Proceedings of the 53th Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale: Vol. 1: Language in the Ancient Near East (2 parts) 9781575066394

Citation preview

Language in the Ancient Near East

Russian State University for the Humanities

Volume XXX/1

Babel und Bibel 4/1 Annual of Ancient Near Eastern, Old Testament, and Semitic Studies

Language in the Ancient Near East Proceedings of the 53e Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale Vol. 1, Part 1

Edited by

L. Kogan, N. Koslova, S. Loesov, and S. Tishchenko

Published for the Russian State University for the Humanities by Eisenbrauns Winona Lake, Indiana

2010

ISBN 978-1-57506-195-5 (vol. 1) ISBN 978-1-57506-196-2 (vol. 2) ISBN 978-1-57506-167-2 (set) ISSN 1938-5668

The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of the American National Standard for Information Sciences—Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI Z39.48-1984.♾™

Contents Contents Preface Program

i vii xi

Part 1. Language in the Ancient Near East Opening Lectures C. Wilcke. Sumerian: What We Know and What We Want to Know W. Sommerfeld. Prä-Akkadisch. Die Vorläufer der “Sprache von Akkade” in der frühdynastischen Zeit

5 77

Languages of the Ancient Near East W. Mori. Notes on the Plural Bases in Sumerian S. Parpola. Sumerian: A Uralic Language (I) A. Sideltsev. Proleptic Pronouns in Middle Hittite Zs. Simon. Das Problem der phonetischen Interpretation der anlautenden scriptio plena im Keilschriftluwischen E. Vernet i Pons. Die Wurzelstruktur im Semitischen. Überlegungen zur Rekonstruktion des Wurzelvokals K. Wagensonner. Early Lexical Lists Revisited. Structures and Classification as a Mnemonic Device

167 181 211 249 267 285

Sumerian and Akkadian Literature and Literary Language B. R. Foster. Similes in the Gilgamesh Epic A. R. George. The Sign of the Flood and the Language of Signs in Babylonian Omen Literature C. Jean. You Recite the Incantation “I am a pure man”: qabû, manû or dabābu? C. Michel. Le langage figuré dans les lettres paléo-assyriens. Expressions relatives à l’homme et à la nature C. Mittermayer. Structural Analysis of Enmerkara and the Lord of Arata I. Zsolnay. Ištar, “Goddess of War, Pacifier of Kings”: An Analysis of Ištar’s Martial Role in the Maledictory Sections of the Assyrian Royal Inscriptions

313 323 337 347 377

389

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Sumerian and Akkadian Lexicon and Terminology I. Arkhipov. Les véhicules terrestres dans les textes de Mari. I. Le nūbalum B. Lion, C. Michel. Le cochon dans les listes lexicales: quelles logiques de classement? N. May. The Qersu in Neo-Assyrian Cultic Setting. Its Origin, Identification, Depiction and Evolution R. Oreschko. Über Spiegel, Bronze aus Dilmun in altsumerischer Zeit H. Reculeau. Périphérique ou local? Le vocabulaire des paysages de la Valée de l’Euphrate au IIe millénaire av. n. è.

405 421 441 491 505

Part 2. Language in the Ancient Near East Papers outside the Main Subjects The Correspondence between Verbal and Nominal Morphology in Sumerian M. Civil. Sumerian Compound Verbs: Class II P. Delnero. The Sumerian Verbal Prefixes im-ma- and im-miF. Karahashi. Argument Structure of Sumerian Verbs II: The Transitive-Ditransitive Alternation G. Zólyomi. The Case of Sumerian Cases

523 535 563 577

Akkadian: Diachrony and Contact V. Golinets. Amorite Names Written with the Sign Ú and the Issue of the Suffixed Third Person Masculine Singular Pronoun in Amorite N. J. C. Kouwenberg. The Recycling of the T-infix in Prehistoric Akkadian: A Case of Exaptation M. P. Streck. Innovations in the Neo-Babylonian Lexicon M. Worthington. i-ba-aš-šu-ú vs. i-ba-aš-šu from Old to Neo-Babylonian

593 617 647 661

Morphosyntax and Text Structure in Akkadian E. Cohen. Conditional Structures in the Old Babylonian Omens C. W. Hess. Oblique Core Arguments in Akkadian

709 729

Contents

G. H. Kaplan. Morphosyntactic Structure of the Premises in the Neo-Babylonian Laws S. Loesov. Akkadian Sentences about the Present Time (II/2) N. Wasserman. The Enclytic Particle -mi within the Framework of Old Babylonian Epistemic Modality— A New Understanding

iii

751 759

787

Peripheral Akkadian Z. Cochavi-Rainey. Akkadian Written by Egyptian Scribes in the 14th and 13th Centuries BCE Y. Cohen. The “Second Glosses” in the Lexical Lists from Emar: West Semitic or Akkadian? J. Ikeda. Was Akkadian Spoken in Emar? Diglossia in Emar A. F. Rainey. The Hybrid Language Written by Canaanite Scribes in the 14th Century BCE J.-P. Vita. Scribes and Dialects in Late Bronze Age Canaan E. von Dassow. Peripheral Akkadian Dialects, or Akkadography of Local Languages?

803 813 841 851 863 895

Limited-corpus Languages of the Ancient Near East M. Giorgieri. Zu den sogenannten Wurzelerweiterungen des Hurritischen. Allgemeine Probleme und Einzelfälle P. M. Goedegebuure. The Alignment of Hattian: An Active Language with an Ergative Base N. V. Harouthyounyan. New Observations on Urartian Vocabulary J. Hazenbos. Hurritisch und syntaktische Ergativität M. Khachikyan. On the Genesis of the Category of Aspect/Tense in Hurro-Urartian, Sumerian and Elamite M. Salvini. Les deux stèles de Rusa III, fils d’Erimena, provenant du Keşiş Göl O. Soysal. Zum Namen der Göttin Kata¶zipuri mit besonderer Berücksichtigung des Kasussystems des Hattischen J. Tavernier. On the Sounds Rendered by the s-, šand ´/z-Series in Elamite

927 949 983 989 999 1015 1041 1059

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Papers outside the Main Subjects Religion and Ideology V. Bartash. Pu¶ru: Assembly as a Political Institution in Enūma eliš (Preliminary Study) V. V. Emelianov. On the Early History of melammu J. Klein. The Assumed Human Origin of Divine Dumuzi: A Reconsideration

1083 1109 1121

Mesopotamia and the Bible M. B. Dick. Foreign Languages and Hegemony B. A. Levine. Cognate Patterns in Ancient Hebrew Poetry: Tracing the Lineage of Psalm 110 J. M. Sasson. Where Angels Fearlessly Tread: Mari Insights on Genesis 19

1137 1147 1163

Presentation of Posters L. Pecha, F. Rahman. The Old Babylonian Text Corpus Project (http://www.klinopis.cz/nobtc) S. Ticca, S. Viaggio. The Project “Duplicazione e Rinascita.” Cataloguing of Objects and Texts in Cuneiform Preserved in the Iraq Museum, Baghdad Abbreviations of Periodicals, Reference Works, Series, and Sources

1187

1193

1207

Previous page: The participants of the 53e Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale in the Hermitage Theater, St. Petersburg, July 27, 2007

Preface This Preface is a token of gratitude to those who, in some way or other, helped us organize the fifty-third Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale, which took place in Moscow and St. Petersburg in July 2007, with “Language in the Ancient Near East” and “City Administration in the Ancient Near East” as its main subjects. In Moscow, the wonderful tandem of two Katias—Markina and Vizirova—successfully carried out innumerable tasks, major and minor, connected with visa service, accommodation, train transfer, and cultural program. Without their patience and devotion, this Congress could never have been as it was. More than a dozen students, graduate students and faculty of the Institute for Oriental and Classical Studies of RSUH worked as volunteers during that memorable week: M. Chamurlieva, D. Cherkashin, M. Dolbilova, M. Ermolaev, E. Frolova, I. Khait, M. Kalintseva, Yu. Kirilenko, A. Kovalev, A. Lyavdansky, A. Morozova, R. Nurullin, N. Rudik, A. Syreishchikova, A. Terpelyuk, S. Tishchenko, V. Tsukanova, Yu. Tulaikova, V. Vdovikov, O. Vinnichenko, E. Vorobieva. Their patient and efficient assistance is hard to overestimate. The same applies to the Institute’s administrative staff represented by Ms. Marina Pedenko and Ms. Svetlana Vesnina. It was a privilege for us to cooperate with the director of the Institute for Oriental and Classical Studies, Dr. Ilya Smirnov, throughout the difficult months that preceded the Congress. His experience, devotion and strong will, but above all his patience, never failed. One would wish that all experts in medieval Chinese literature were so much dedicated to the progress of Assyriological science! From the very beginning of our enterprise, it enjoyed unconditioned approval of the Rector of RSUH, Prof. Efim Pivovar. The facilities the administration of RSUH put at our disposal were a real boost for the organizing committee. To be singled out is the kind help of the vice-rector for administrative affairs, Mr. Aleksandr Volkov, and the head of the financial department, Ms. Svetlana Sokolova.

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Our sincere gratitude goes to colleagues from other academic institutions in Moscow where Assyriological subjects are taught and investigated: Boris Aleksandrov and Daria Gromova (Moscow State University), Ilya Arkhipov (Russian Academy of Sciences), Anastasia Tarasova (the Pushkin Museum of Fine Arts). All of them took this event with much seriousness and responsibility and provided quick and effective assistance in many respects. In St. Petersburg, the city that hosted the previous Russian Rencontre (1984), we were encouraged by the advice of its organizer, Prof. Muhammad Dandamayev. We tried to do our best emulating his erstwhile achievement. This Congress would have never been possible without constant support and cordial hospitality of the Director of the State Hermitage, Prof. Mikhail Piotrovsky, Deputy Director for Research, Prof. Georgy Vilinbakhov, and Academic Secretary, Dr. Mariam Dandamaeva, as well as the Director of the Institute for Oriental Studies (now the Institute of Oriental Manuscripts) of the Russian Academy of Sciences, Dr. Irina Popova, and the head of the Department for Ancient Near Eastern Studies, Dr. Inna Medvedskaya. We would like to express our gratitude to Dr. Andrey Nikolayev (Oriental Department of the State Hermitage) for his immense support during the last, and most difficult, months before the Rencontre, as well as to other staff members of the Oriental Department (A. Novikova, L. Potochkina, L. Smirnova, D. Vasilieva). We are grateful to P. Kagadeeva, A. Moskaleva, R. Oreschko, M. Redina, and M. Sologubova, students of the Oriental Faculty of St. Petersburg State University who worked with us during the days of the Congress. We also thank numerous members of the Hermitage staff for their generous help. In both Moscow and St. Petersburg, the organizing committees benefited from financial support of the Russian Foundation for the Humanities (РГНФ/RFH). We are pleased to extend our sincere gratitude to this institution. We also gratefully acknowledge personal donations of Anatoly Kovalev and Olexandr Usinsky. Alexandra Okhotina and Katia Markina are responsible for the design of the Rencontre’s emblem and maintenance of the website respectively. We are grateful to Anastasia Smirnova, who designed the RAI poster.

Preface

ix

Numerous workshops, which in a sense were a hallmark of this Rencontre, were organized by the following colleagues: S. Garfinkle, A. Kassian, I. Márquez Rowe, S. Loesov, M. Streck, G. Wilhelm, C. Wunsch, G. Zólyomi. To all of them we extend our sincere gratitude. Successful organization of the Rencontre would have been impossible without constant assistance of the Leiden secretariat of the International Association of Assyriology, notably, Wilfred van Soldt and Renee Kalvelagen, who never failed to share with us their invaluable experience and to support us with their advice. Last but not least, it is a pleasant duty to remember a meeting with Klaas Veenhof during the Leiden Rencontre of 2002, where the very idea of a prospective Russian Rencontre was first suggested by one of the undersigned—and enthusiastically approved! L. Kogan, N. Koslova

As usually, the editors of these volumes gladly extend their gratitude to their technical assistants: Dr. Anatoly Kovalev, who prepared the layout, and Ms. Svetlana Vesnina, responsible for the technical editorial work. We cannot but admire their diligent and patient collaboration. L. Kogan, N. Koslova, S. Loesov, S. Tishchenko

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RAI 53: The Program

xiii

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RAI 53: The Program

xv

Language in the Ancient Near East

Opening Lectures

Sumerian: What We Know and What We Want to Know Claus Wilcke München–Leipzig

1. Introduction The great and much admired Igor Michailowich Diakonoff used to say: “As many sumerologists, as many grammars.” Perhaps I should say: “what I know …”1 The words of the equally much admired Thorkild Jacobsen are as actual today as they were more than fourty years ago: The field of Sumerian Grammar is not one in which one can move with much confidence. The Sumerologist who examines his presuppositions knows only too well how many unknowns enter into his slightest decisions, how unproven, perhaps unprovable, are even his most fundamental assumptions about the writing and about the spoken forms it can and cannot symbolize; and he knows how subtly those endless assumptions differ from one scholar to the next. The suggestions … we present here can thus be no more than suggestive guesswork. We have tried however to make educated guesses and to guess systematically …2

After M. L. Thomsen’s outline3 and P. Attinger’s condensed analysis,4 recent years brought a flood of grammars and studies.5 Many agree on many aspects of Sumerian. Other, crucial ones, await agreement. The organizers chose a philologist, not a linguist, for this paper. So this is a philologist’s argument. A pupil of Falkenstein’s, I have absorbed, and draw on, results of many others, mainly Pascal Attinger, Miguel Civil, Dietz Otto Edzard, Thorkild Jacobsen, Joachim Krecher, Piotr Michalowski, Nicholas Postgate, Walther Sallaberger, Herman Vanstiphout, Chris-

1

For reasons of convenience, phonemes appear between [ ], morphemes between / /. V = vowel, C = consonant, NP = noun phrase, VP = verb phrase; see the list of abbreviations at the end of the article. 2 Jacobsen 1965:71, fn. 1. 3 Thomsen 1984; 32001. 4 Attinger 1993. 5 See Edzard 2003a and the bibliography there pp. 181–185; Edzard 2003b; Michalowski 2004; Zólyomi 2005 and the articles in Black–Zólyomi (eds.) 2005.

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Opening Lectures

topher Woods, Mamoru Yoshikava and Annette Zgoll, and try to present here my own concept in a nutshell.6 I concentrate on morphology. Unaffiliated to any known language,7 Sumerian shares its ERGATIVITY with many other languages, ancient and modern, in the Near East and all over the globe. We understand it “Looking through an Akkadian glass darkly”8 and most urgently need a Sumerian Lexicon. Sumerian changed through its 3 ½ millennia, even in periods when its use was restricted to learned circles. Its writing system, too, changed significantly through time. We need synchronic and—if possible—monotopic studies of grammar and orthography before embarking on diachronic and diatopic research. We should not project facts from different periods and places9 onto a single, artificial plane of “THE SUMERIAN.” Here, I concentrate on the 3rd millennium B. C. 2. Dialects, phonology, orthography 2.1. Dialects and socio-linguistic variety Dialects and orthographies differ in this period: Central Babylonia productively uses /a-/ and /i-/ verbal prefixes. Yet, the rare /a-/ prefixes attested in the South seem to be frozen. The vowel harmony observed at OS Lagaš (Øirsu) differs from the practice of other southern provinces. Orthographies of the phoneme [r͂] vary in Ur III Umma, Lagaš and Nippur either due to different shifts this consonant undergoes in different local dialects or because of different systematic “hypercorrections” taught in the schools:

6

I here try to present the concept I developed in recent years. It partly deviates from that of the Falkenstein school as further developed by—among others—J. Krecher and especially D. O. Edzard and culminating in Edzard 2003a, a system I cum grano salis followed while teaching at Munich and at Leipzig. Differences mainly relate to the sequence of some verbal morphemes, the function of the prefixes /mu-/ and /ba-/, the directive (locative-terminative) prefix and the interpretation of the transitive “present-future conjugation” as an antipassive and the existence of a passive to it. It also differs from others in the attempt to find an overall concept for the sequence of verbal morphemes. 7 This is the majority communis opinio; S. Parpola now presents lexical materials suggesting a relationship with Uralic languages. 8 Edzard 2003a:7, quoting 1 Cor. 13, 12. 9 Diatopic synchronic data collections are—due to the availability of relevant sources—sometimes unavoidable.

C. Wilcke, Sumerian: What We Know and What We Want to Know

7

[r (or d?) > r͂] in Umma (e. g. máš-da-r͂e6-a, En-gaba-r͂e6-a)10 and [r͂ > d], [r > d] in Nippur (e. g. /dè, de5/ for /r͂e6/),11 Lagaš replacing [r͂] partly by [r]. Ur and Isin seem to follow the lead of Nippur. [r͂] sometimes disappears, at least graphically, as base-final consonant.12

10

See Wilcke 2000:39; now B. Jagersma (2005) quotes a Sargonic syllabic -r͂á- for [ra] at Umma: MAD 4, 156:12 ì-ku4-r͂á-a; see already Krecher 1987 who also quoted BIN 8, 133:11–12 2× mu-ku4-r͂á (also from Umma). Krecher assumes that the spelling DU.DU in OS Lagaš/Øirsu should be read kux-r͂á/r͂e6, i. e., with a final [r͂], not the [r] attested later at Lagaš, e. g. in Gudea Cyl. A vii 2 ù-mu-na-da-ku4-re ‘would you please enter with it’ or TCTI 2, 3658:2–4 mu Ur-dIškur ba-gaz-šè, dam-ni é-ušbar, ba-an-ku4-ra-šè ‘because his wife had been entered into the weaving mill instead of U., who had been slain.’ But DP 83 ì-kux(DU)-kux(DU)-ra1-am6 renders the cases for OS DU.DU to be read kux-r͂á suspect, even though the meaning ‘to enter’ of the verb DU (mu-DU.r = šūrubtu) is well established and the reading kux for DU in OS Lagaš is probable. Krecher’s three putative readings of DU.DU as kux-r͂e6 cannot be upheld (see below, fn. 122), and all month names about gods entering (DU.DU) their temples (Krecher 1987:12, fn. 13) as well as the references to the princess entering a temple or the holy precinct of Lagaš (iri-kù; p. 12, fn. 14, p. 13: AWL 157 iii 2) may well use imperfect verb bases: ‘Month, when deity X is/was entering her/his house’; ‘The woman is entering the shrine,’ as ku4 ‘to enter’ belongs to the reduplication class and imperfect [kuku] ends in a vowel. The remainig reference, DP 348 vi 2 can also not be read kux-r͂á-am6, as DP 351 shows: here the reed has been brought into the storehouse (×anun dMes-AN.DU-ka, ì-DU). The following DIŠtenû DU-a-am6 ‘it was brought in for the first time’ calls for a base ending in a vowel; this can only be r͂e6 ‘to bring’ reduplicated as an iterative. I therefore see no evidence for a final [r͂] in OS kux(DU) ‘to enter.’ J. Bauer (2004) quotes clear evidence for ku4.r in OS Lagaš and decides, “den Vorschlag Krechers DU = kux nicht zu übernehmen.” 11 See Wilcke 1999a:301–303: the same text replaces logograpic r͂e6(/de6) by de5(RI) and by dè(NE); two others using the same legal formula write twice de5 for r͂e6 and so do others (quoted there p. 303), see also (misunderstood in Wilcke 1988:29, fn. 101) NRVN 235:1–4 (IS 2 x 26) kišib Ur-dEn-líl-lá-da, ní×-ka9 abda-a5, ù-um-de5-de5, zi-re-dam ‘Ur-Enlila’s sealed documents have been accounted for. They will be broken, as soon as they are brought here’; UCP 9, p. 178, No. 17 kišib še-b[a zà?-m]u?, Ur-dEn-líl-lá, ki Na-ba-sa6, en-na na-an-ga×[ál-la], ù-um-d[e5-de5], zi-re-dam, zà!-mu 5-ta mu é dŠára ba-r͂ú-šè ‘Ur-Enlila’s sealed documents about the “New Year” barley rations, as many as are still kept at Nabasa’s, will be broken, as soon as they are br[ought] here. Since 5 “New Years” until the year ŠS 9.’ Leemans 1957, 31:5 may perhaps be read: iti minkam-šè túm-e!(copy MA)-dè nu-im-dè, 10 ma-na nagga, gáb-lá ‘(He swore) to bring it within 2 months. “Will it not have been brought, I shall weigh out 10 pound of tin!” ’ 12 Krecher (1993a) and B. Jagersma (2005:82–84), who sees /r͂/—he writes /ř/—as “a voiceless, aspirated dental or alveolar affricate [tsh]”, assume reduction to [!] (Krecher) or to [Ø] (Jagersma). Here, caution is needed. Krecher described the ob-

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Opening Lectures

Piotr Michalowski just challenged the long held communis opinio that the eme-sal used by women and gala ‘cantors’ or ‘lamentation priests’ in OB and later texts and characterized by special lexemes and certain phonetic shifts represents a dialect. He rather sees it as “a mode of elocution.”13 I beg to—partly—disagree. Regular changes from eme-sal to eme-gi7 and vice versa according to the gender of the speaker present in OB literary sources and proverbs (handed down literarily) as well as the use of eme-sal in texts performed by a gala suggest a social, gender related context in which speaking eme-sal was obligate for women and the vious reduction of final [r͂] for /bar͂4/ > /ba!/ (or /ba/), but what are the rules governing the choice of long or short forms? Finding both spellings, kéš-r͂á and kéš-a, in Ur III Umma (even side by side in one document, e. g., in UTI 4, 2603:8 and 33) need not indicate the possible reduction or loss of base-final [r͂]: kéš-r͂á (/kešr͂-a/) clearly follows D. O. Edzard’s “repetition” rule (2003a:10), base-final consonants forming a new syllable with affixes with initial vowel and “repeated” graphically as head of the resulting syllabogram—a “repetition” only in the transliteration, not in the language. This rule applies most strictly (with some exceptions) to stops (in the narrower sense), less so to sonorants and fricatives which frequently are—because of their relative closeness to vowels?—not bound (graphically) to following vowels, perhaps resulting from the quality (length?) of the vowel of the verb base. Final [¶]+[a]: compare, e. g., the ¶am¢u-Participles zu¶-a ‘stolen’ in the prison rosters (Wilcke 22007:117–119, fn.s 385–386); ITT 2, 5853:1′, 4′; 5885 ii 9; iii 2, 7, 12 and, e. g., BPOA 2, 1886 v 2; 2093:9; 2595:3 with kù-ta du8-¶a ‘ransomed’ in BPOA 2, 1836:2; 1883 i 15′; NG III s. v. du8 (see Falkenstein, apud B. Landsberger: MSL 4, 29, fn. to line 25). Final [l]+[a]: compare the standard writing ¶ul-a ‘destroyed,’ e. g., Nisaba 6, 13 iv 34 et passim; 26obv. iv 1, 18; Sigrist 1981:148–150 with rare forms with -la: NG 203:14 mu a-šà in-`¶ul-laa-a-šè ‘because she had ruined a field’; PDT 1, 423:1 1 sila4 É-da-¶ul-la ‘1 lamb from Eda¶ula.’ Syllabic ¶u-ul shows the base-final [l] in SAT 3, 1718 (ŠS 6):1–6 IØéme-tumTummal(TÙR), šu-na min-a-ba ¶u-ul-×ál ba-an-×ar, u4 45-šè, iti pa4-ú-e-ta, iti dDumu-zi u4 15-šè ‘G.—in/on her hands, both of them, miasma had been put—for 45 days (in prison?), from month xi to xii 15th …’; correct Wilcke 2000:71. See also below, fn. 98. On the other hand, compare standard gul-la, e. g. UTI 4, 2404:2 má gul-la ‘a boat dismantled’; UTI 4, 2521:2 ×iš-gal gul-la ‘big trees destroyed,’ with rare forms in gul-a: MVN 21, 9:3 má gul-a; Santag 6, 21:5 || 41rev. ii 22 šim gul-a ‘aromatic herbs crushed’; the imperative TCS 1, 142:9 é-a-ni gul-a ‘destroy his house!’ Caution is also needed since the readings ¶aš-ša4, ¶aš-a and tar-ra need to be considered for verb forms written TAR.DU, TAR.A, TAR.RA beside ku5-r͂á, ku5-a, ku5-ra. 13 Michalowski 2006:49: “it is hardly a dialect, but simply a mode of elocution, and we can now appreciate that its origins, as well as its continuing function, lie not in a regional dialect or a social register of a living language but in a complex nexus of socio-linguistic facts linked to a constellation of cultic practices that involve basic life-changing events, namely love and death.”

C. Wilcke, Sumerian: What We Know and What We Want to Know

9

gala. The not so small special vocabulary and the unpredictability of the phonetic shifts (e. g. [m] > [m, ×]; [×] > [×, m], [d] > [d, z], [u] > [u, e] etc.) go—in my view—far beyond what may be understood as resulting from “a mode of elocution.” Dietz Otto Edzard’s definition as a “sociolinguistic variety”14 seems quite adequate. We see this “sociolinguistic variety” only from the Isin-Larsa Period onwards, when rules for the syllabic spelling of lexemes were developed,15 and we do not know when it originated. With P. Michalowski (2006:49), I don’t think that the origin of the eme-sal may be linked to any known regional dialect. The [g > b], [b > g] and [× > m] shifts in OS Lagaš observed by Bauer (1998: 435f.) and Krispijn (2005:154–156, 161), belong with the features discussed by Civil (1973), are neither restricted to the province of Lagaš nor to southern Babylonia and cannot be drawn on to postulate a Lagaš dialect, “der charakteristische Züge des Emesal aufwies” (Bauer 1998:436) or a southern dialect, as Krispijn thinks.16

14 Edzard 2003a:171–172. Text-linguistic and diachronic approaches to emesal will be fruitful and may, e. g., reveal tendencies to hypercorrections and related features arising from the growing gap between the spoken language of learned circles of specialists and the standard Sumerian taught at school and resulting in the putative “habitual pompousness” of the gala (Wilcke apud al-Rawi 1992:183f.). 15 After sporadic and, as it seems, still unsystematic attempts at syllabic writing in Neo-Sumerian legal and administrative documents (Wilcke 2000) and school texts; see, for the time being, Rubio 2005. We eagerly wait for his edition of these new sources. 16 J. Bauer’s example ×alga > ma-al-ga (also on Krispijn’s list) is questionable. ×alga is a loan from OAkk., OA malkum ‘advice, itellectual capacity’ corresponding to OB and later milkum. We do not know when, where (at Nippur?) and under which conditions the [m] > [×] shift took place. OS ma-al-ga was in all probability loaned directly from malkum, perhaps before or regardless of it. Th. Krispijn (2005:161f., “Survey 1”) has collected a respectable number of difficult OS and NS passages and proposed intriguing interpretations for what he considers southern vernacular Sumerian which he sees as the source of the eme-sal surviving in female speech.—Yet we should like to know the phonetic rules behind the assumed changes of vowels and consonants. Several among the passages quoted invite for different interpretations and all of them need more discussion. Thus, e. g., Ukg. 4 v 2 “túg ùudrax(ZÍZ)” seems to be parallel to v 5, and v 1–5 may be read túg ×eštu dNin-KILIMgi4-lí-na, túg ù-ZÍZ, túg gaba-šu-ùr, túg ní×-bar-ba, gada ù-lá ‘A “mungo-ear-cloth” when/if a cloth was …, a “breast-rub-cloth,” when/if an overcoat was lined with linen’ heading the list of specified goods the palace collected from the temple administrators as dusu-levy; see Krebernik 1984:292, on v 1; — “unorthographic” a-mar in Ean. 1 x 4! may only be linked to ag/×ar5 = rādu ‘cloudburst,’ if

10

Opening Lectures

Yet, we may with some certainty assume that spoken eme-sal reaches at least as far back into OS times as the profession of the gala is attested. Jerrold Cooper, 17 who strongly supports Walther Sallaberger’s arguments for its use in Ur III times,18 seems to be of this opinion, too, and he points to gala attested in Fāra-Texts and to bala×-performers already in ED Lú A in Uruk III.19 I assume it to have originated as a gender specific variety, its cultic use being a secondary development.20 The earliest possible eme-sal quotation known to me21 comes from Gudea Cylinder B in the direct speech of a goddess22 containing the word the [×] is certain; J. Krecher (1978a:35) left the question open; Steible (1982 I 127; II 45f. following Thureau-Dangin 1907a: ‘Regensturm’) linked it to a-mar-uru5 = abūbu; his ‘Sturmflut (?)’ seems no less probable than the new proposal;—ga-du7 in Gudea Cyl. A xxvi 26 is “unorthographic” for GAN-du7 = ¶ittu ‘door lintel’ for which the Akkadian suggests the reading *¶é-du7, but both readings, ¶é-du7 and gan-du7, are attested lexically; see AHw. ¶ittu I. I am not aware of any direct evidence for a split of these readings along the lines of eme-sal :: eme-gi7. For unorthographic ga for gan in (Central Babylonian) Nippur see Wilcke 2000:71, table 12;—the frequent “unorthograhic” spelling bàd-dab5-raki for bàd-tibiraki does not belong to the “vernacular”; the reading tibira of URUDU.NAGAR results from vowel harmony from older tā/abira (see AHw. and CAD s. v. tabiru), itself a loan from Hurrian tabiri (with elision of the vowel of the first out of 3 open syllables after a preceding closed and certainly stressed one), see Wilhelm 1988:50–57.—Alledged zaZÍZ-da < šertum does not exist. Read with I. J. Gelb, (21961): za-áš-da < sartum ‘criminal act.’ C. Wilcke (1991) had already pointed out the different vowels in [zašda] and [ziz/šda] and also established the different meaning ‘Entschädigung’ for zíz-da / zi-iš-da = kiššātum; see also Wilcke 2003; 22007:59, fn. 180. — *en-šitim as etymology for [mušdama] is very hypothetical. An = Anu ša amēli (Litke 1998:238) writes the divine name d Mušda as d(`NINa).DÍM); in Enki and the World Order 346 it is spelled as dDÍM and syllabically as dMuš-dam(-ma); muš-da-ma in Gudea Cyl. B iii! 16 designates the builders, not the god. There is no hint at a possible component *en ‘lord.’—Finally, vowel harmony will be responsible for the forms an-kára (for enkara) and É-an-gur/gur22-… since É is to be read !à ([Ha]) in the OAkk. syllabary. 17 Cooper 2006. 18 Sallaberger 1993:150, with fn. 708. 19 Cooper 2006:41ff. 20 See al-Rawi 1992, for female gala/kala!um in pre-Ur III times. nam-gala = kala!ūtum will thus originally have been a female office, as Cooper (2006:45) assumes. 21 Read TMH NF 1–2, 27:10 gáb!ab-su bí-du11 instead of the “da-ab-su” of Wilcke (1975:207), discussed by Schretter (1990:72, fn. 6), and, again, quoted as an eme-sal word “if correctly interpreted” by Krispijn (2005:155, fn. 10). It should have been listed by Wilcke (2000:69, table 11), for its gloss and (p. 76, table 14) for the “Zeichenverwechslung.” See also Leemans 1957, 31:7 gáb-lá; YOS 4, 275:8 gáb-til. 22 See Wilcke 2005:295, 299.

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/tummal/ (IM-ma-al, traditionally read /*immal/)23 which from OB times onward replaces the main “dialect” word šilam ‘cow’ in direct speech of females and in lamentations. Gudea Cyl. B iv 6–9 nin ×arza kal-la-ke4 dNanše šìr!(EZEN)-kù inim zu é-e ba-an-du11, u8 gi6-ge umbin mi-ni-íb-kí×, tum9-ma-al an-nake4, ubur! si ba-ni-íb-sá ‘The lady of worthy cultic office, Nanše, knowledgeable about pure song and word addressed the house: “The black ewes (come with) well trimmed hooves, the cows of heaven have let their udders perform perfectly.” ’24

2.2. Questions of phonology and phonetics Our understanding of phonology and phonetics depends on that of syllabic orthography; both bear upon that of morphology. 2.2.1. The vowel [o]; vowel length The vowel [o] may be phonemic beside [a, e, i, u],25 but we do not include it in our transliteration system. Equally, we do not mark vowel length which is obviously phonemic too,26 but difficult to discern outside of words loaned into Akkadian.27 23

The reading tum9-ma-al of the sign group IM-ma-al follows from those of for TÙR and of /tum(m)al/ for TUM.TÙR(ki) established by P. Steinkeller (2001:66–71). He proposed to transliterate tum-immal or tum-malx (p. 70); tum Tum(m)alki seems to fit more adequately. The Ebla reading ù-ma-al6 for ŠÍLAM×DIŠ beside šè-li-im and šè-lam for ŠÍLAM (Krecher 1983, ll. 27–30, 43–46) and the use of IM-ma-al in the Ur III incantation TMH NF 6, 15:27 (iii 4) lú-u18-bi IM-ma-al tùr-kù-ta è-a-gim, gù-nun-bi ¶é-e ‘this man shall call out loudly like a fully grown cow coming out of the pure cattle-pen’ point to a possible rare use of the word in the main dialect, too. 24 The use of the sign TÙR/ŠÍLAM in Ur III Umma to write the placename Tum(m)al (TUM.TÙRki) looks like a learned graphic pun with the eme-sal reading of this sign.––The (flock of) black ewes is a metaphore for rain bearing clouds (‘trimmed hooves’ after Kramer apud Klein 1981:154), as are the ‘udders’ (literally: ‘breasts’ or ‘nipples’) of heaven which first occur with Lugalzaggesi; see Wilcke 1990:482, with note 65. 25 Postulated by Poebel 1931:5ff.; Lieberman 1979; see also Westenholz 1991; Edzard (2003a:14) puts o, ō in brackets. 26 See Edzard 2003a:13. Especially telling are pairs like gàr = karrum || kar = kārum, kíd = kītum || má-gíd = makittum (MSL 12, 167 OB Lú A 300 lú má-gíd = ša ma-ki-it-tum). 27 E. g., suffixed -a-né ‘his, her’ beside independent a-ne ‘he, she’, where -ne may write [nē]. IM-ma-al

12

Opening Lectures

2.2.2. Vowel change or alternation How and why do vowels change in lexemes, e. g., /sig5/ and /sa6.g(a)/ ‘fine, beautiful,’ written and seemingly pronounced differently,28 similarly between /ri/ and /ru/29 and between semantically closely related words like /zu¶/ ‘to steal’ and /za¶/ ‘to disappear’ or /gal/ ‘big’ and /gu-ul/ ‘to become/make big’? 2.2.3. Possible phonemes /gb/ and /×b/ What about the [g< >b] alternation—not only between main “dialect” and eme-sal, but also within the main “dialect”, e. g., a-ba for a-ga ‘rear’ in OS Lagaš,30 du10.g for du10.b in Gudea Cyl. A iv 26; v 26 and ì-gi4-la for ì-bí-la || ibila31 in Ur III Nippur and examples like a-gù > abuttu collected by Miquel Civil, who discussed a possible [gb] phoneme which may, too, occur in initial position in the word traditionally read /gibil4/, i. e., [gbil], and in the syllabogram -bí- in ì-bí-la ‘heir,’ i. e., [gbi]?32 Is the sign G̃Á (usually read ×á, ×e26) used in some Fāra- and Ebla-texts to write the verbal prefix /ba-/, i. e., ba4-,33 a remnant of an older and/or perhaps regionally restricted spelling preserving a conceivable original form */×ba-/ of the prefix (>*/gba-/ > /ba-/)? The widespread use of BÍ

28

See, e. g., the names written differently on clay tablets and seals. Tablet: Ab-ba-sig5 || Seal: Ab-ba-sa6-ga UTI 4, 2641:4; 2646:8 Lú-sig5 || Lú-sa6-ga SNAT 425:6; 428:4 etc. Ur-sig5 || Ur-sa6-[ga] SNAT 366:4 Ur-sig5 || Ur-sa6-ga UTI 3, 1642:6 (cf. 1720, seal) but: Ba-sa6 || Ba-sa6 UTI 4, 2647:4. 29 E. g., in a–ri/ru ‘to beget’ and a–ri for a–ru ‘to present as a votive gift’ (RIME 3/1, p. 10, Ur-Nin×irsu 11), gaba–ri/ru(-gú) ‘to confront’ (OSP 2, 121:4–5; 128:14; 132 ii 3′; Or SP 6, 60: Wengler 50:26), gaba-ru ‘duplicate’ (MAD 4, 148:9) and Lugal-KA sipa anše má gu4-niga A-ga-dèki e-ta-ru-a ‘when L. had steered the boat with fattened oxen from Akkade’ (USP 5:13–15); see also the syllabogram (-)ri(-) seemigly spontaneously replaced by (-)ru(-), in Wilcke 2000:78; also in Pomponio et al. 2006 II 117, II-29:2–5 (from Nippur) kišib Úrdu-×u10, ù-de6, kišib Lú-si4, zi-ru-dam (for zi-re-dam) ‘when U.’s sealed document will have been brought, L.’s sealed document is to be broken.’ 30 En. I 29 xi 3–6 TAKA4 Lum-ma–Øír-nun-ta-ka, a-ba-né-éš ba-gub ‘he retreated on the bank? of the L.-canal’; cf. Ent. 28–29 iii 20–21. 31 NATN 920:4 (AS 6) nam-ì-gi4-la; see Wilcke 2000:36–37. It is a loan from aplu combined with a folk etymology: ‘fat burner.’ 32 Civil 1973. 33 See Edzard 1976:194f.: “ba4-sum,” “šu ba4-ti”; Krispijn 2005:157–158, with fn. 18.

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([gbi]) for the prefix /bi-/ (< /ba-y-/) would agree with such a development. So would also the spelling mi-ni- =[×bini], if we correctly understand it with J. N. Postgate as /*bí-ni/ = /ba-y-ni-/.34 Could then the prefix /mu-/ (= ×u10) equally go back to an initial */×bu-/ (> */×u10-/ > /mu-/)? The different vowels could have caused the consonant [×b] to develop into diffent directions. The difference in meaning between these prefixes would then originally have been expressed by the vowels only? This could explain the two imperative forms (prefixes suffixed to the verbal base) in VENTIVE /BASE-u/ and NON-VENTIVE /BASE-a/ as in ×e26-nu /×en-u/ ‘come here’ and ×en-na (/×en-a/) ‘go (away).’ The different rank of /m/- and /ba/-prefixes in late 3rd millennium and later prefix chains allowing their combination could then result from secondary developments. 2.2.4. New V-VC-spellings in prefix chains from Sargonic times onward What exactly did the sign clusters a-ab-, a-am-, ì-íb-, ì-im-, ì-in-, ù-ub, ù-ul, ù-un-, ù-um-,35 newly invented in Sargonic times, signal to the ancient readers? Two identical vowels separated by a hiatus, a glide or an !alif ([!])? Or—less probably—one vowel with two peaks? Does this mean that the older, traditional spelling with a single syllable sign (ab-, íb-, etc.—used side by side with the new one) always offered the possibility of reading it both, monosyllabically and, e. g., bisyllabically? Or do the new spellings result from new developments in the language? The Isin-Larsa and OB periods replace ì- by i- which seems to be a graphic development only. Th. Krispijn (2005) assumes that “these writings reflect long vowels,” and F. Karahashi (2005:122) thinks that they “sound something like [yin], [yib] and [yim],”36 although OAkk. writing provides no comparable pattern for long vowels and never uses ì- (NI-) to indicate a glide or initial [y] except for the Syllabogram -yá (in dÚa-yá and in Amorite PNs).

34

Postgate 1974:21–24. F. Karahashi (2005:123ff.) relates the many dissenting voices on mi-ni-. She assumes that perhaps “orthography did not matter to the scribes,” which is hard to believe. As long as conditions leading to a putative change */mu-ni-/ > /mi-ni-/ cannot be described, both forms occurring in the same text need to be kept apart. 35 Yoshikawa 1977; Wilcke 1988. 36 The form ì-e-àm-mú she quotes (fn. 15) from Ur Lament 333, 335, 337 could like OB ba-e-a-prefix chains before a base with initial vowel [bay(y)] indicate two syllables separated by a glide in the prefix chain.

14

Opening Lectures Th. Balke37 sees them as purely orthograhical and indicators of initial alif [!].38 He concludes this from Santag 6, 216, opposing in-ba (l. 2) and ì-in-ba (l. 7) “in sich wiederholenden Satzmustern.” But there, one in-ba is followed by 5 ì-in-ba, and there are 3 ì-íb-ba.39 The irregular use of one single traditional spelling, from which the new one has branched off, does not disprove that the new one indicates one of (at least) two possible readings of the old one. Balke also relates V-VC- to Akkadian spellings of the type e-er-ru-ub and a-ak-kal.40 But MAD 22 lists not one such form,41 and I am not aware of any OAkk. one published later. Nor does any single one occur in Markus Hilgert’s Grammar of Ur III Akkadian.42 OAkk. graphic (-)ER- and (-)AK- clearly stand for (-)!er- , (-)!ak- and, in closed syllables spelled CV-VC, for -er-, -ak-. The two isolated V-VC-spellings of nouns with initial Alif in OB copies of OAkk. royal inscriptions may also not be generalized. One of them (a-ar-`bu?a-[x x]) is questionable.43 The other one, na-e e-er-tim (nā!i! !irtim > nā!ī/i !irtim), in two copies of Narām-Su!en’s account of the “Great Revolt”44 might reflect the sequence [i(+!)—!+i]. But an original Narām-Su!en inscription (BE 1/2, 120 ii 4–5) writes na-e [e]r-tim. The OB copyists may therefore have modernized the orthography. Balke’s anachronistic approach cannot explain the need for a new spelling pattern in Sumerian prefix chains, first attested in Šar-kali-šarrī’s first regnal year,45 when OAkk. writing had not yet developed any parallel pattern.

37

Balke 2006:79, fn. 346. J. Krecher (1985:145f., fn. 27), had already stated: “i-im- enthält als einziges Morphem /im/-.” In Krecher 1993a:112, he insisted that readings of signs with initial vowel in fact begin with an alif [!] (or with another consonant) “außer in Fällen von gespaltener Orthographie.” 39 Only Santag 6, 216:2 shows in-ba; ll. 5, 6, 7, 9, 12 write ì-in-ba; ll. 1, 3, 4, (collective plural ergatives) have ì-íb-ba. 40 J. Krecher (1985) already had compared OB i-ir-tum and (OB) i-im- and assumed that it indicate “/!/ am Beginn einer geschlossenen Silbe.” Yet, he overlooked the earlier different spelling with ì- and the absence of comparable OAkk. spellings. 41 Note that OAkk. spellings i-ik-mi, u-ub-lam (etc., see MAD 22 158, 162) represent yikmi, yublam, i. e., closed syllables beginning with the semi-consonant [y]. 42 Hilgert 2002. 43 Kutscher 1989:56 vi 3. The sign transliterated as `bu?a does not look like BU on the photo. 44 Wilcke 1997:25 J xi 6–7 || P rev. iii′ 18′–19′. 45 For the date see Wilcke 1974:39–41, with fn.s 8–9; Wilcke 1974–1977:91; Foster 1980; Steinkeller 1992:56.—The new spellings from this year occur at Nippur (OSP 2, 135:4–7) and Umma (MCS 9, 247rev.:13; MC 4, 27 iv 12–14 [Šar]-kà-lí-šàr-rí, ki-en-gi-šè, [(ì-)i]m!-×en-na-a; Steinkeller reads [b]a-); see also from Øirsu (ITT 2/2, 5759:3′–5′ É-×idri-ka ba-×[ar?], énsi-ke4 Nibruki-ta, ì-im-r͂e6-a ‘… 38

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2.3. Questions of orthography 2.3.1. Logograms and syllabograms The catalogue of logograms, their form and meaning, is governed by tradition. Rules for the use of syllabograms develop in the OS period. They are much more flexible and change more quickly through time and in different cities. How consistent is orthography in Archaic Ur, Fāra- and Isin?46 From the time of E!anatum of Lagaš onwards down to Irikagina, one writes all syllables spoken, but neglects their final consonants. Systematic writing of CVC syllables like [bim] or [bam] as “bi-im” or “ba-am” still waited for Akkadians to invent it.47 Final consonants of words begin to appear under Irikagina. Regular writing of final consonants in non-final syllables begins in Ur III, and differs for different vowels and consonants.48 Not only graphic problems seem involved. Exceptions are rare: Ean. 62 ii 6 lú na-ab-dab5-bé; En. I 28 ii 6 e-ma-an-dím; further in loan words: En. 2 iii 2 ¶a-lu-úb; Ent. 79 ii 8 ¶a¶ar-ra-an; Ukg. 57:1 ma-al-ga-sù (the same in PNN); also in Akkadian PNN: Nik. 1, 3 i 4 LUGAL-bí-nu-um; 224 ii 3 ŠUL-bí-nu-um; CT 50, 36 iii 1 IRI.KUR-da-nu-um?; TSA 10 xi 16 A-ga-am. Another exception is the enclitic copula of the 3rd person singular /-am/. OS verbal bases with a final vowel explicitly show the sequence nominalisator /-a/ + enclitic copula /-am/ (written -am6) to be read bisyllabically (i. e., [_a!am]): DP 438 ii 3 ì-r͂e6-a-am6 (442 ii 4); RTC 26:15 mu-na-r͂e6-a-am6; Nik. 1, 170 iii 3 e-ta-è-a-am6. Therefore the alif ([!]) between nominalisator and copula should also exist after bases or suffixes with final consonant: Ean. 1 xvii 11 were stored in the E×idri, when the steward had brought them here from Nippur’) and of unknown provenance: Owen 1988. 46 See now Krispijn 2005:156–157, 162–164. Syllabic writing of IMPERFECTIVE (marû) verb bases is not yet fully developed in the literary texts from Tall Abū Ôalābī¶; see, e. g., in the “Instructions of Šuruppag”: na-DU11 for na-ab-bé-`ea (37′), nam-me (39′), na-an-ne-en (45′) and the absence of the marû reduplication of SA10 (9, 43′) or ZI (125′) in Alster 2005:176ff. On the other hand, OIP 99, 327 iv 4′; vi 1; ix 2 inim mu-gi4-gi4; Krebernik 1994:152, ll. 9–10 nu-gi4-gi4, nu-šár-šár; Wilcke 2006:232, l. 78 al-×á-×á show syllabic marû writing already developed as well as the use of special plural verb bases in OIP 99, 282 iii 5′ al nam-mu-né-éš (where iii 2; iv 8 inim mu-gi4 before direct speech still attests the lack of marû reduplication); 327 iii 6′ TUŠ al-durun-éš. By the time of E!anatum of Lagaš the writing of marû-forms seems to have reached full fledge. 47 Early exceptions are nam- and nab- in prefix chains and suffixed -kam4 (< /-k-am/), e. g., in the “Instructions of Šuruppag.” 48 See Wilcke 1990:484f., with fn. 67.

16

Opening Lectures gur(-ra)-da-am6 (xxii 14; rev. ii 6; v 27); En. I. 29 x 2 mu-šè-×en-naam6; Ukg. 16 viii 3 e-da-a5-ka-am6, 1 vi 4′ gub-ba-am6 (1 vi 6′, 4||5 x 16–17); 4||5 iv 22 e-ne-kéš-r͂á-am6; DP 438 I 4 e-me-×ar-ra-am6; DP 83 iii 3 ì-kux(DU)-kux-ra-am6 and also after nouns ending in [_a] Ukg. 4||5 x 30 gala-am6, 33 nam-um-ma-am6. Yet, forms of the verbs me and tuku point at a possible elision of the nominalisator /-a/ or its contraction with the [a] of the copula after the final vowels (of different length?) of the base: Poebel 1931:44 (15 references, 8 of them from the same document; no variant): ì-tuku-am6; Ukg. 4 vii 11 e-me-am6 (var. 5 vii 28 e-me-a). On the other hand, the verb ×ál provides three different spellings of the sequence final consonant of the base + nominalisator /-a/ + copula /-am/: Ukg. 4–5 iv 18; vii 6 e-×ál-lam; DP 461 v 2 e-×ál-am6; DP 475 ii 7 e-da-×ál-la-am6 demonstrating the possibility of elision or contraction after the consonant [l].

2.3.2. The joint between prefix chain and verb-base Verbs very consistently mark a hiatus between the syllabically spelled prefix-chain and the logographically written verb base. This allows us to very easily identify the verb in question. Assimilation of prefix-chain-final [n] to following first consonants of the verb base can not be observed on the graphic level. Yet in very few cases, prefix-chain final [n, b] may be graphically bound to the ¶am¢u base /a5/ (AK) ‘to do, to make’ (written _-na,49 _-ba50), and [b] regularly to IMPERFECTIVE51 /e/ ‘to speak’ (> _-bé)

49

See Wilcke 1990:492 and, e. g., BPOA 1, 562:14 (ní×-ka9 á-bi …) nu-un-na ‘(if) he did not establish (the aforementioned account of the labour)’; CUSAS 3, 1048:5 gú-ba kí× bí-na ‘he worked at its (= the field’s) edges’; TMH NF 6, 6:7 d En-líl-le gú-na ba-ni-na ‘Enlil had produced (Samana) on his neck’; 10–13 ù-ku5-e ¶aš-gal-na, ba-ni-na, ki-sikil-e gára-na ba-ni-na, ×uruš-e sa-na ba-ni-na ‘The pauper produced it on his thigh, the young woman produced it on her “ghee,” the young man produced it on his sinews.’ 50 See Wilcke 1999b:627, fn. 18 on CBS 8381:4; TMH NF 6, 6:8 kalam-e ba-ra-ba ‘the land did not at all produce it’; 14–18 gu4-e a-ub- ba-ni-ba, udu-e umbin-si-ba ba-ni-ba, anše ×eštu-ba ba-ni-ba, še×-bar si-ba ba-ni-ba, ×iš ma-nu sa×-¶uš-ba ba-ni-ba ‘the ox produced it (= Samana) on its palate?, the sheep produced it on its hoofs, the donkey produced it on its ears, the wild goat produced it on its horns, the cornel produced it on its awe inspiring head.’ 51 I cannot accept the explanation of B. Kienast and K. Volk (1995:4–7) for their assumption that the verb /e/ be understood as a ¶am¢u (sing.) base in pre-OB times. Especially so since their translation “war dabei zu sagen” (p. 6, following S. Cohen) is clearly imperfective.

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from the Sargonic period onwards,52 and equally [n] to PERFECTIVE /ús/ (> _-nu-ús) ‘to put something close to something.’53 Yet, ús also shows spellings explicitly marking the hiatus after the prefix-chain final allomorph /vowel+n/ to the locative prefix /-ni-/.54 2.3.3. Morpho-phonemic graphemes? Having agreed for a long time55 with the idea of early Sumerian “morpho-phonemic graphemes” introduced by R. D. Biggs and M. Civil56 and accepted, e. g., by P. Attinger,57 I now hesitate to generally accept it because of our lack of knowledge about phonetic developments in OS times. When did, e. g., the shift of [n > l] before [b] (only in the negative indicative prefix and in the word nu-bànda ‘inspector’) combined with regressive vowel harmony (/nu + ba, bi/ > /la-ba/, /li-bi/) occur? It must have taken place after one began to write prefixes syllabically. But did it happen in vernacular OS while the conservative graphic system still followed the traditional standard language and thus seemingly turned NU into a “morpho-grapheme”? Did it happen only at or after the end of the OS period? Would the difference between langue and parole (changing with different speeds) not have played a decisive role, the instruction of writing following the langue, and the faster developing parole superseding it with different delays in different places and scribal schools, so that perhaps even as late as at the time of Gudea, the scribe(s) of his statue B and even later some Ur III scribes were still (partly) following the old langue?58

52

Before the Sargonic period, the [b] is not bound to the following verb /e/; see the Presargonic letters in Kienast–Volk 1995 and, e. g., Barton Cylinder i 12–14 an-né ki-da, inim an-dab6-e, ki an-da inim an-dab6-e ‘Heaven spoke a word with Earth, Earth spoke a word with Heaven’ (Alster–Westenholz 1994). 53 Wilcke 1988:41, fn. 143; Wilcke apud Kienast–Volk 1995:81 (Øir 12rev.:3′). 54 See UET 3, 1540:4; AAICAB 2, pl. 99b, Ashm. 1935–569:4; MVN 18, 415 i 3 ba-an-ú-ús. Such forms occur also—seemingly irregularly—in OB literary texts, e. g., Lugalbanda II 246a (1 source only) and 263 (2 sources: -ú-ús, 1: -ús). 55 In Wilcke 22007:192, fn. 45, I still explained [nu-] in nu-ba- as “morpho-graphemic.” 56 Biggs–Civil 1966:14–15. 57 Attinger 1993:134. 58 Gudea Stat. B v 4 ama ér-ke4 ér nu-bí-du11 ‘no wailing woman sang a dirge’ and vii 53 kí×-×á lú nu-ba-×á-×á ‘nobody was supposed to use …’ (Edzard’s translations in 1997:32, 36). The alternative readings with different word borders of Wilcke (2002:203–204, fn. 14) are not convincing in the light of even later nu-bí-: BPOA 1, 600:10 (AS 5 i) nu-bí-in-eš-a and Molina 1999–2000:224, No. 26:6 ní×-na-me lú-ù nu-bí-na ‘nobody made (them do?) anything.’

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Opening Lectures

Did the vowel [i] of the verbal prefix /ši-/ marking CONSEQUENCES OF and written šè-, ši- in early texts totally or partly assimilate at all times to following vowels? Or did it long resist assimilation and, after the vernacular finally had accepted it, take its time until entering the langue of those determining the writing system? Its form /šu-/ first appears in an Ur III incantation (before -mu-).59 Thus the OB orthography offering the variants /ša-, ši-, šu-/60 originated already in Ur III times. This prefix was much more resistant to change than the PROSPECTIVE PREFIX /u-/ which already in late OS times assimilates to following [ba] and [ni].61 PREVIOUS EVENTS

59 See Alster 2005:176–194: Instructions of Šuruppak, Abū Ôalābī¶ version passim, e. g. 10′–12′ … ù× šè-mu-ra-`¶ula, … lú uru5 ši-sù-x-x, … lú šè-ba-dab5 ‘the people will then ruin it for you, … the man will then overwhelm you (like) a flood, … the man will then make you prisoner’; etc.; Urn. 49 iii 7 šè-RU ‘…’; Ean. 1rev. x 25 mu-bi ši-e ‘Therefore he was proclaiming its (= the statue’s) name’; SRU 43 vi 2 šè-gaz; Alster–Westenholz 1994 (iv 3, 7, 9; vi 2, 4) gig šè-mu-×ar-×ar ‘it (or he) caused much bitterness (for god X towards city Y)’; the authors (pp. 19–20) read gig-šè mu-×ar-×ar; the two Ur III sources for the incantation for Amar-Su!ena’s headache differ in writing the prefix: van Dijk–Geller 2003, No. 1: 2–3 lú-ra sa×-gig šè-mu-×á-×á, sa×-gig-ge gu-sa gig-ge-dè šè-mu-×á-×á (thus text A; text B: šu-mu-×á-×á) ‘Headache settles down here onto man, it settles down here in order that headache sickens the neck tendons’; 6–7 ×uruš-àm sa×-gig-ge ì-dab5, ki-sikil tur-àm(B: am6) gu-sa gi-a šè(B: šu)-mu-gu4-gu4 ‘A man is he— headache has seized him; a young woman is she—it let (her) tightened neck tendons twitch’; the authors refer (p. 13) to CT 17, 21:100–101 (A) || SpTU II 2: 107–110 (B) which reads én sa×-gig lú-ra [š]a(B: šu)-mu-un-×á-×á, sa×-gig gusa-a-gig lú-ra [š]a!(B: šu)-mu-un-×á-×á = mu-ru-u´ qaq-qa-di(B: du) a-na a-[me]-li (ana LÚ) iš-šá-kin-ma, di-!u-u (B: di-!u) mu-ru-u´ da-ad-da-[ni] (B: om.) [a-na a]-me!-lu (ana LÚ) iš-šá-kin-ma ‘Head illness settles (Akk.: settled) down here onto man, headache, illness of the neck tendons settles (Akk.: settled) down onto man’; they translate both the Ur III and the late bilingual text somewhat differently, understand the prefix šu- of Ur III source B and late source B as the noun šu ‘hand’ (i. e., the scribe reinterpretating the prefix šè-) and disregard the latter’s admittedly dammaged variant ša- in late A. 60 See Heimpel 1974:223–228. The—otherwise invisible—presence of the TELICITY prefixes /a-, i-/ may determine the use of the forms /ša-, ši-/, since the prefix vowel does in OB times likewise not necessarily agree with the vowel of the following syllable sign. 61 See Ukg. 4 vii 19 = 5 vii 2 pú ì-ni-r͂ú ‘after he built a well’; 6 ii 2′–3′ igi-nu-du8, a-ba-tuš ‘after the blind man was settled’; ii 22′ lú sa× šembi ì-ni-dé ‘after someone had poured essences on (someone’s) head’; iii 14–15 munus-e níta-ra, `áš ¶ula rib-ba ì-ni-du11 ‘after a woman has uttered a terrible curse against a man’; see the a-ba- forms in: Alster–Westenholz 1994 (xv 7–15); but earlier we read: Ent. 28 vi 22–23 = 29 vi 34 sa-šu4-gal-ni ù-ni-šu4 ‘after he cast down his great battle net (upon him).’

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Similarly, it seems difficult to exlpain the early use of PRECATIVE PREon the basis of a morpho-grapheme ÚÉ-. The rule established by Biggs and Civil62 cannot be upheld in the light of the spectrum of OS forms known today.

FIXES

The prefix occurs in the form ¶é- in the Fāra-Period (e. g., in the Instructions of Šuruppag, Tall Abū Ôalābī¶-Version), but at Lagaš it occurs quite early, already under E!anatum, in the form ¶a- before [i]:63 Ean.64 63 iii 665 ¶a-bí-zi-zi beside ¶é = [¶é-m] (iii 3); ¶é-na-zi (iii 15); Ent. 28 vi 29 ¶a-ni-gaz-e ¶é-ši-gi(4)-gi(4)-a (iv 18 – v 6); ¶é-na-ši-gub Ent. 29 vi 40 ¶a-ni-ugx(ÁB.ŠÀ.GAZ)-ge (vi 8–20); ¶é (vi 17–18); ¶é-¶a-lam-e (vi 19); ¶é-×á-×á (vi 25).

Forms in Presargonic66 and Sargonic letters67 and a royal inscription of Irikagina agree with the Biggs–Civil rule.68 But the Ur III spectrum of forms is totally at odds with it. I can demonstate this here only in a very abbreviated way:69 Obviously, vowel harmony does not rule the choice between ¶a- and ¶é-. It also would make little sense to regard ¶a- throughout as the syllabic reading of morpho-graphemic ¶é-. The many double entries leave little doubt that we should look for a possible morphological difference. A possible solution would be to see [¶a] as the result of a contraction of [¶é + a]. ¶a¶é–– ¶é-mi-… ¶a-a¶é-a¶a-mu-… ¶é-mu-… ¶a-a-da–– ¶a-na-… ¶é-na-… ¶a-ab-… ¶é-ab-, ¶é-eb-… –– ¶é-ne-… ¶a-àm¶é-àm-, ¶é-em–– ¶é-ni-… ¶a-an¶é-en¶a-ni-íb¶é-ni-íb¶a-ba-… ¶é-ba-… ¶a-ra-… –– ¶a-bí-… ¶é-bí-… –– ¶é-ši¶a-ma-… ¶é-ma-…

Biggs–Civil 1966:15: “présargonique––Ur III ¶é → e/i, ¶a → a/u.” See already the references collected by Heimpel 1974:88–89. 64 Old Sumerian royal inscriptions quoted with the sigla of Sollberger 1956 and Steible 1982. 65 See the reconstruction by Cooper 1986:111–114. 66 asØir 1 dates from the year 5 of Enmetena, steward of Lagaš. 67 OS and Sargonic letters are quoted here with the sigla of Kienast–Volk 1995. 68 OS examples: asØir 1 iv 5 ¶a-mu-na-tùm; asØir 2 ¶é-su; asØir 5 ¶a-mušè-×ál; asUnb 1 ¶a-mu-ra-á×-á×; Ukg. 6 iv 3 ¶a-mu-tùm beside: ¶é-ši-gi4-gi4- a-ka (2), ¶é-na-bé-a-ka (5). 69 Thus, e. g., ¶a-ba-… stands for all prefix chains beginning with these two syllabograms, in this case for: ¶a-ba-, ¶a-ba-a-, ¶a-ba-ab-, ¶a-ba-an-, ¶a-ba-an-šiíb-, ¶a-ba-da-, ¶a-ba-NI-na-, ¶a-ba-ni-, ¶a-ba-ra-an-, ¶a-ba-ši-, ¶a-ba-ši-íb-. 62

63

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Opening Lectures In Ur III, I twice noted ¶u- before /mu-/.70 Thus, again, OB orthography of Sumerian has its roots in the late Ur III period.

2.3.4. Morphological structures behind V-VC-spellings in prefix chains 2.3.4.1. Some opinions The newly invented spellings in a-ab, ì-íb- etc. (above 2.2) with their doubly written vowels [a, i, u] beginning these verb forms are bound to signal more than the simple signs ab-, ib-, ub- etc., i. e., more than [!ab, !ib, !ub, etc.], i. e., the TELICITY prefixes /(-)a-, (-)i-/ (so called “CONJUGATION PREFIXES”) or the PROSPECTIVE prefix /u-/ followed by a marker of the dimensional relation already observed by M. Yoshikawa,71 denied by J. Krecher,72 reasserted by C. Wilcke,73 R. de Maaijer74 and F. Karahashi,75 and now again—especially for ì-íb- —denied by Th. Balke.76 2.3.4.2. Th. Balke’s critique Th. Balke77 critically alleges that only a small number of idiomatic expressions uses the V-VC spelling.—Yet, I regard the 32 different verbs listed in

NATN 506rev.:1 ¶u-mu-na-ab-šúm-mu; SNAT 373:16 ¶u-mu-×á-×á. Yoshikawa 1977:223–236. 72 Krecher 1985:145f., fn. 27. 73 Wilcke 1988:5–7, with fn.s 29–31. 74 de Maaijer 1999:116. 75 Karahashi 2005:122 (2.1.3). In view of G. Gragg’s use of “directive” for the case traditionally named “terminative” (1973:15), she criticizes (p. 115) Krecher and Wilcke (who tried to apply Krecher’s terminology in the article discussing Krecher’s new ideas about the obligatory syllabic structure of Sumerian morphemes) for designating with “directive, Direktiv” the same dimensional case with the same semantic field of meanings as the traditional assyriological term “locative-terminative,” i. e., a state at, or a movement toward or away from, a point in contact with, or adjacent to, the object. H. Bußmann (21990) explained the case “Direktiv” as “Akkusativ der Richtung oder des Zieles nach Verben der Bewegung, vgl. lat. domum ire ‘nach Hause gehen’,” which is not exactly the semantic field of the “locative-terminative.” But she does not at all mention a “locative-terminative.” Some kind of compromise is called for. Edzard (2003a:43, 5.4.2.9) now uses “directive” and “directive (locative-terminative)”; Zólyomi (2005:19–21) speaks of the “Obliquus-Direktiv”; Michalowski (2004:34) calls it “locative 2 (terminative)”; Balke (2006 passim) says “Direktiv.” Attinger (2007:55, fn. 2) mentions the perhaps more adequate “adessif ” but also uses “directif.” Here, I shall use this term faute de mieux for brevity’s sake, too, although I am well aware of its limited adequateness. 76 Balke 2006:78–83. 77 Balke 2006:78ff. 70

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ZA 78 (1988) and 16 more collected randomly,78 some in more than one idiom, as a respectable number of non-standard phrases with finite verbs in the predominantly nominally worded corpus of Ur III economic documents.—Balke then states “daß die angenommene semantische Verteilung [i. e.: -in- (< /ni/) ‘in (hinein)’ vs. -ib- (< /bi/ ‘auf, an’)] in erster Linie auf der Wahl der im Deutschen oder Englischen gewählten Präpositionen beruht” (Balke 2006:79) and arbitrarily juxtaposes sentences with identically structured nominal parts and the same verb base but with different prefix chains, i. e., ì-íb-×ál and mu-×ál and assigns identical translations to them.—Yet, the first one means ‘it was placed (at PN’s)’ and the other ‘it is available to me/us (at PN’s).’—He then contrasts dub PN-ka mu-×ál ‘… befindet sich auf der Tafel des PN’ (read: ‘it is available to me/us on PN’s tablet.’—C. W.) with numun-šè a-šà-ga ba-an-×ar ‘wurde als Samen auf das Feld gesetzt’ (read: ‘was put into the field as seeds’; one lets the seeds drop into the furrows!—C. W.) and opines “sollte gemäß der getroffenen Verteilung anstelle von ba-an-×ar (= /ba-n(i)-×ar/) *ì-íb-×ar oder ba-ab-×ar erscheinen.” He further provides the almost identical translations ‘Das Siegel … ist auf ihr (= der Tafel)/wurde darauf (= der Tafel) abgerollt’ for the frequently found formula kišib PN (ì-)íb-ra ‘PN’s seal was impressed onto (this very clay tablet)’ and for the extremely rare expression kišib (PN) ba-ab-ra ‘one impressed a/PN’s seal’ = ‘a sealed document (/a document sealed by PN) was issued.’79 And thus he reaches the “Erkenntnis, daß, obwohl die vermutete 78 Of the verbs ba (ì-in-, ì-íb-: Santag 6, 216); šu--ba (ì-íb-: TCTI 2, 3372); bala (ì-in-: BPOA 1, 70); bar (ì-in-: BPOA 1, 1995, with fn.); durun (ì-íbTUŠ.TUŠ-a: ASJ 2, 10, No. 23); ×ál (ì-im-da-: AAICAB 1, 64 vii 8); gi4 ‘to turn (someone) into something different’ (ì-in-: Nisaba 11, 33rev. i 6, 10); gíd (ì-íb-: UTI 3, 2080; SAT 2, 295); gub (ì-íb-: Civil 1994:201, 8.2.1 A 3354); ku4 ‘to enter a house’ (ì-in-: AUCT 3, 489 ii 5–7); r͂e6 (ì-im-ma-ra-: with igi ‘to blind?’: MVN 18, 342); sè (ì-íb-: UTI 6, 3800); KA (= eme!?)-sig tuku ‘to come into existence, said of calumny’ (ì-íb-: Molina 1999–2000:224, No. 26, BM 27024; cf. o. c. p. 220, No. 10 íb-); zé (ì-in-: for še21 ‘to live at a place [plural]’: Santag 6, 154); zé (ì-in-: ‘to break’: AAICAB 2, pl. 163); zi-ir (ì-in-: BPOA 2, 1891).—Note the contamination of a lí-bí-du11-ga-šè (i 2′; ii 8, 11) and a lí-bí-in-eš-a-šè (i 12′) in BPOA 2, 1883 ii 16 “a ì-in-bé-a-šè,” mixing ¶am¢u- and marû-forms of the verb du11/e/di and the readings ì- and lí- of the sign NI. The scribe had learned to write sign groups, not words of a living language—is this a school text? 79 I know of only 3 examples: MVN 14 (= UTI 1), 231 (excerpt quoted by Balke) reads: donkeys, year AS 5, donkeys, year AS 7, 11 anše DU.DU, ki KAS4-ta, Ur-dŠára ì-dab5, kišib Ur-dŠára, 15 ki KAS4-ta, `Ur-daNun-gal-ke4 ba-an-dib, a[nše D]U.DU gub-ba, year date AS 8, KAS4-ra kišib Øiš-×u10 20 ba-ab-ra ní×-ka9-a ba-an-naan-zi, šà-bi- 1 anše eden-na, 1 dùr-×iš 1 dùr-ga, lá-ì-àm kurum7-ma nu-mu-

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Opening Lectures

semantische Distribution ì-in- ‘in’ vs. ì-íb- ‘an, auf ’ für einige wenige Wendungen grosso modo zutreffend ist, sie bei Einbeziehung sämtlicher Kontexte einer ernsthaften Prüfung nicht standhält, insbesondere, was die semantische Zuordnung ‘auf, an’ für die Präfixkette ì-íb anbelangt.” 2.3.4.3. Attempt at understanding the forms Forms may be divided into two main groups: a) in ergative and antipassive constructions, where the /-b-/ or /-n-/ (directly before the verb basis) coincides with class and number of either the AGENT (in the PRETERIT CONJUGATION) or the PATIENT (in the ANTIPASSIVE PRESENT FUTURE CONJUGATION and the PASSIVE to it). They clearly mark the respective cases. Transitive PRETERITs in a-am-, ì-im-, ù-um- either don’t exist,80 or they follow a hitherto unobserved PRETERIT ANTIPASSIVE pattern with inversion of the ERGATIVE and PATIENT markers; see below, 4.5.3.

b) Intransitive constructions may begin with the PROSPECTIVE prefix /u-/ or with that of the NEGATIVE INDICATIVE /nu-/ (optional); then follows, or appears in inital position, a TELICITY prefix /a-, i-/, further followed by ×ál, kišib Ur-dŠára-ka-bi, 25 ki Ur-dNun-gal-ka, ì-×ál nu-zi-re ‘(Donkeys of years AS 5 and 7), receipts of ? donkeys—Ur-Šara took them over from KAS4. Ur-Nungal took the document sealed by Ur-Šara from KAS4: receipts of ? donkeys present in the year AS 8. A document sealed by Øiš×u (= the chief administrator of the animal yard) was issued to KAS4 (stating that the donkeys) were deducted in his favor in the account. Among these donkeys 1 onager, 1 draught donkey and one suckling donkey were missing and were not available (for the accounting office). The relevant document sealed by Ur-Šara is presently at Ur-Nungal’s. It will not be broken.’—TCTI 2, 3434 1;4!.0 kaš-×en gur, 2 sìla ì-×iš, sá-du11 ku5-r͂á, 5 Ku5-ku5- da-a lú ×ištukul, I7-dNin-piri×-bànda-šè ×en-na, iti ezen-dBa-ú-ta, iti še-gur10-ku5-šè tur-re-dam-ta, mu iti 4-àm, kišib ba-ab-ra-a-šè, kišib Al-la, 4 ‘Because it is 4 months since the sealed document had been issued that 540 liters of normal beer and 2 liters of sesame oil, the regular daily delivery for the armed soldier K. who went to the N.-canal, were to be reduced from month VIII to month XI, Alla confirmed it with his sealing.’ Enigmatic: BPOA 1, 320 (AS 2 ix) 2 ní×-šu, siki?-bi “0;1.4”, géme kíkken bala-šè, šu!? (translit.: “ki”) ba-ab-ti, [gaba?]-ri, ki 2-šè kišib ba-ab-ra, date. ‘The female mill slaves received!? 2 handles? for the bala-service, the wool? for them being … Copy?; one sealed it a second time.’ 80 Add BPOA 1, 363 (different kinds of beer, flour, oils, 1 liter of garlic, a basket) 10 Nam-¶a-ni sagi, dGu-la-šè, siskur-šè, ì-im-r͂e6-a ‘which the cupbearer N. had sent to the goddess Gula as offerings’ or ‘which had been sent for the cupbearer N. (/sagi-r/) to the goddess Gula as offerings’ to the three references collected in Wilcke 1988:15 (b3).

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the allomorphs (1) /V + n/ of the locative prefix /-ni-/ or (2) /V + b/ of the prefix sequence NON-“VENTIVE” /ba-/ + DIRECTIVE /-y-/ > [bay],81 or, (3) /V + m/ of the cluster of “VENTIVE” /m/ + /ba + y/ > [-mmay].82 A different allomorph pattern (4) appears, if the sequence V-VC (ì-íb-, ì-im-) is not immediately followed by the verb-base but by (other) dimensional prefixes (-da-, -ta-, ši). (4a) ì-íb-ta-:83 The allomorph /V + b/ of the prefix /ba-/ + /ta-/ follows the ATELIC PREFIX /ì-/. This form corresponds to the sequence written ba-ra(< -ta)/ši- and representing /ba-ta, ši-/ without reference to the TELICITY of the event. (4b) Similarly /V + m(b)/ before following prefixes will be the allomorph to /m + ba/ ([mma]) and ì-im-da/ta/ši- (/ì-V + m + b-da, ta, ši-/)84 should correspond to im-ma-da/ta/ši- which cannot have the same morphological structure.85 B. Jagersma’s observation that “in Ur III Sumerian, the /t/ of the prefix /ta/ becomes /r/ after a vowel”86 provides a key for understanding this form: a consonantal morpheme usually not explicity written follows between /-ba-/ and /-ta-/.

81

Written immediately before the verbal base OS as ba-, NS (and Sargonic) as ba-a-, OB as ba-e-, but as bí- before the markers of AGENT or PATIENT. 82 Written im-ma- and im-ma-a- immediately in front of the base; see NRVN 59:9 im-ma-a-gur; NG 99:20; 104:9; ZA 53, 56ff., No. 5 iii 10; ITT 2, 2643:5 im-ma-a-gi4(-eš/a-šè); before the AGENT or PATIENT prefixes it becomes [immī], written im-mi-. F. Karahashi (2005:115) misunderstood Wilcke (1988) when assuming that “According to his theory the ‘Direktiv’ infix is not relevant to i3-im-; thus i3-im- is merely a spelling variant of im-.” Pp. 43–46 in ZA 78 (1988) with fn.s 143–144 contrast ì-im- with im-mi- as variants to the same morphological structure and distributed according to the presence or absence of following (ergative or absolutive, in some cases the locative /-ni-/) morphemes. It should be evident that im-mi- is understood there as /i + m-bi/. Seemingly /V-V + m-/ does not correspond to /V-mma-/ < /V-m-ba-/ when not followed by other morphemes. 83 See Wilcke 1988:33 (c4), with fn.s 111–112.—The sequence may be preceded by the PROSPECTIVE /u-/. 84 Out of these, ì-im-da-×ál (also written im-da-×ál) is a special term to designate the number of days left in a month or of office periods(? bala) left to a person; see Wilcke 22007:178, with fn. 25; AAICAB 1/1, pl. 48b, Ashm. 1911-488:10; pl. 60c, Ashm. 1924-650; MVN 1, 254:4; Steinkeller 1989, No. 89:9 (ì-im-da-×ál); ROM 910-209-599:17–18 (unpublished, courtesy M. Sigrist) ní×-ka9 AK Ur-É-maš, bala 5-àm im-da-×ál, meaning perhaps: ‘There are 5 periods of office still unaccounted for in the account of U.’ 85 If it represented */ì-m + ba-da, ta, ši-/, this should become the above /ì-V + m + b- da, ta, ši-/. 86 Jagersma 2005:83, fn. 3.

24

Opening Lectures This is a marker for the 3rd person sg.87 and im-ma-da/ta/ši- then represents (/ì-m-ba-n/b.da, ta, ši-/). But this rule seems not to apply throughout. There are several examples of prefix chains written im-ma-ra(-a/an)- from Drēhim, Lagaš and Umma88 which according to Jagersma’s findings should have no (invisible) person marker before the ABLATIVE-INSTRUMENTAL prefix and therefore, in turn, should turn up as ì-im-ta-, which looks as if there were a choice between the two forms, one perhaps traditional, the other innovative, springing from the vernacular.89 There is one isolated form bridging perhaps the two different forms: MVN 18, 342: 8–9 (from the last years of Amar-Su!ena) may be read mu-bé-éš, igi-min-kam ì-im-ma-ra-r͂e6 ‘therefore (i. e., because of his crime) his second eye was taken out (lit.: brought away).’90 This could be a hypercorrection of vernacular [immarar͂e]. Another hypercorrect form might be the isolated prefix chain ì-im-ma- (AUCT 1, 276:12).

3. Relations between nominal and verbal sentence parts Noun and verb phrases come in chains. The sequence of chain links is fixed and so is the sequence nominal sentence part → verbal sentence part which may—only, as far as I see—be disobeyed in poetry for the sake of focussing or of topicalisation.91 We well know nominal and verbal sentence parts relating to each other in patterns. That of “ERGATIVITY” means: the “ABSOLUTIVE” syntactic 87

Explicitly written in NATN 511:32 [i]m-ma-an-ta-è. Intransitive/passive Verbs ba-al (SNAT 373:4 [AS 5 vii]; s. Wilcke 1991); gur (DAS 332bis:10 [––]; NG 113:53 [Š 40?]; 205:23 [ŠS 4]); r͂e6 (AUCT 2, 230:22 [ŠS 2]; UTI 1, 500:7 [AS 9 i]; ZA 53, 56ff., No. 5 iii 12 [broken]); transitive preterite: šu–bur (TCTI 2, 4061:4 [ŠS 1 x]); dab5 (SNAT 373:5; see above); è (TCTI 2, 3423:5 [IS 2]). 89 ì-im-ta- occurs only in 3 Gudea Statue inscriptions; always in the same formulaic sentence. The year dates for im-ma-ra- extend from the late Šulgi years into the reign of Ibbi-Su!en.—ì-im-da- occurs in AS 6 (AAICAB 1, 64 vii 8) and IS 7 (UET 3, 165:4); ì-im-ši- Š 48 (UET 3, 898:9) and AS 2 (STA 8 vii 24). These extremely rare forms spread over a time span comparable to that of im-ma-ra-. 90 An alternative reading *igi mìn-kam-ni im-ma-ra-r͂e6 is less plausible because of the atypical sequence *-kam-ni.—Note that i-im-ma-ra-an-dù in Heimpel 1974:180 (Curse of Agade 196, only occurrence) needs be corrected to im-ma-raan-dù (-tur misread as i-); see Cooper 1983:58, 184, l. 194. The first sign of the verb form in the Ur III text witness K4 is preserved; it is ba-[…] on the photo on pl. xviii. 91 See Falkenstein 1959:52 (§ 36.1.e); Wilcke 1975:208–210. We still don’t know whether these means for focussing and topicalisation could also be used in everyday speech. 88

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role and case markers are used for SUBJECTS of INTRANSITIVE/PASSIVE and OBJECTS of TRANSITIVE VERBS and differ from those of the AGENT, i. e. the subject of transitive verbs. Verb and nouns mark spatial relations on an objective base (dimensional cases).92 The nominal part may add more relations with adnominal cases (genitive, equative), adverbs and adverbial phrases. The finite verb may relate to nouns or events of previous or coming sentences and express the speaker’s views of the event. Verbs are conjugated in patterns, too. There is one for intransitive verbs in privative opposition to the PRETERIT of transitive (i. e., + ergative) ones. And there is that of the ANTIPASSIVE transitive PRESENTFUTURE in privative opposition to its PASSIVE (i. e., – ergative). VERBS

4. Morphology 4.1. Morphology of nouns 4.1.1. Difficulties of categorisation We know many morphemes, allomorphs and their functions. One may, e. g., ask whether the also independently used demonstrative /ne(n)/ ‘this (one),’ or the seemingly suffixed /-še/ ‘that’ and the pair /-ri/ || /-e/ ‘over there’ || ‘over here’93 are attributes, clitics or suffixes.94 Similarly we still have to learn the nature of -na-an-na ‘apart from,’ (seemingly) suffixed to nouns (PNs), pronouns and nominalized sentences.95 92

Balke 2006. Demonstrative /-še/ (written -šè) seems to replace -ri in the letter (TCS 1, 5:23): gú-šè á ¶é-×á-×á-e gú-e ma-an-su8-bé ‘over there he(?) may have to use force—over here they come to me.’ 94 Because of difficulties to differentiate between these categories on the basis of our text corpus, I shall throughout use the terms “suffix,” “suffixed” and “prefix,” “prefixed.”––Edzard (2003a:160) considers it “unlikely that the [so called ‘isolating’] particle [ri] should be identical in meaning and function with the deictic particle [ri]” because it alternates with the ablative suffix. But a variant ‘After your heart spoke about it’ to ‘the fact there, that your heart spoke about it’ seems quite plausible to me. The so-called “isolating” particle /-ra/ will be a variant of /-ri/, perhaps */tetne/ > /tente/” etc.). It is difficult to follow his lines of thought in view of our examples. Full reduplication occurs, e. g., in CUSAS 3, 1090:2–3 mu-du-lum ku-úr-gu-ru-dè (/*gurgur-ed-e/ ‘(flour) for salted meat to be coiled up’ (cf. 972 ii 39–40; 975 ii 41–42) or, perhaps, 588:5 KAL.KAL-ke4-dè if it may be read as /*kalagkalag-ed-e/ ‘(clothes) to be mended’ (cf. 783:1–2: mattresses).

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4.1.4. Circumpositions and adverbs Circumpositions encircling noun phrases help to overcome the need for adverbs, conjunctions and subjunctions. Most of them originally show the structure NOUN –– NOUN(/SENTENCE+NOMINALIZER) + GENITIVE-SUFFIX99 — DIMENSIONAL-CASE-SUFFIX. They begin to lose the genitive suffix during the Ur III period. Adverbs, particles and clitics and their use are only partly understood. Some like igi-zu (Gudea Stat. B vii 59) = OB i-gi4-in-zu ‘just as if (it were),’100 u4-da ‘if,’ tukum-bi ‘if ’ look like frozen (parts of) sentences and may also function as conjunctions; those formed with suffixed /-eš/ or -bé(-éš/eš) show a clear morphological pattern, others like u4-ba/-bi-a ‘then, at this time,’ ki-ba/bi-a ‘there’ may still be understood as dimensional objects in the sentence. 4.2. Between nouns and verbs 4.2.1. Adjectives and verbs of state We know nouns, pronouns, adverbs, particles and verbs as parts of speech, but—after Jeremy Black’s stimulating study101—need to learn more about adjectives and verbs of state: they function as attributes and predicates, are declinated, take the enclitic copula or are conjugated. A suffix /-a/ turns “naked” bases into nouns with no overtly differing meaning: du10.g and du10.g-a both mean ‘pleasant.’ But, as far as I can see, only the form with suffixed /-a/ can also serve as a substantive(/appellative), e. g. Gudea Cyl. A x 11 a ugu-×u10 du10-ga-bi mugu7 ‘my own father ate its well prepared (parts)”; Lugalbanda I 384 du10-ga-bi mu-un-gu7-uš ‘They ate its well prepared (parts),’ and even as an adverb. Both forms can produce adverbs with suffixed /-bi/, yet only the “naked” type with the ending /-eš/. The forms with suffixed /-a/ are likely perfect participles of inchoative verbs (type: faded beauty) or “passives of state” (type: enchanted lover), and the suffixed /-a/ turning verbs into participles is in all probability the same morpheme as the NOMINALIZATOR /-a/ turning sentences with finite verbs into nouns. Determination by this suffixed /-a/ (as in

99

NOUN(/SENTENCE+NOMINALIZER) + GENETIVE possessive pronominal suffix. 100 See Wilcke 1968; 1969b:188, fn. 466a. 101 Black 2005.

SUFFIX

may be replaced by a

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Opening Lectures zi.d-a ‘right hand,’ from zi.d ‘right’) will be a secondary semantic shift of substantivized adjectives.102

4.2.2. Adverbs/particles or part of prefix chains of verbs? Some adverbs like nam-ga look like parts of a prefix chain of verbs and seemingly may merge with the prefix chain. It is, at times, difficult, or even impossible, to decide whether they are separate adverbs/particles or proclitics. What about /ga-nam/ 103 (= pi[qa], min[de], u[qa], tušša[ma], appū[na])? Is it an adverb or a particle, or is it a proclitic? What does its mean? In at least two cases it has fused with the verbal prefix chain.104 What about nam-da in the messenger text (RTC 330:7 Šušinki-ta nam-da ×en-na-ne-ne), where OBGT I 471–472; 474, 476–477, 479 (|| ela, šumman lā) seems to suggest that the two messengers each getting (a normal ration of ) 2 spoons of oil for 3 days were not really on their way from Susa?

102

With this I largely agree with Krecher (1993b) partly modifying his earlier study of 1978b “Form und Gebrauch” (earlier literature discussed on pp. 376– 380). His more semantically oriented approach looks for the determinative force of the suffix in all its occurrences, whereas my morphological view stresses its function to turn verbs and verbal phrases into nouns common to all its different uses. 103 Not to be confused with the interjection ga-na, which, again looks as if it were an isolated part of a prefix chain, nor with the imperatives ×e26-nu ‘come!’ and ×en-na ‘go!’ 104 Cf. Gudea Cyl. A v 17, 25; vi 8 šeš/nin9-×u10 DN (|| sig4-zi É-ninnu) ganam-me-àm ‘That was in fact my brother/sister DN (|| the true brick of Eninnu),’ viii 1 Gù-dé-a èš É-ninnu-ta u4 ga-nam-ta-è ‘Gudea, indeed, came out of the sanctuary E-ninnu as the rising sun’ (Edzard (1997:74) reads differently) and— seemingly—in separate words: Gragg 1974:62, ll. 48–49 u4-bi-a ní×-bun4-na lú du14-mú-a-ke4 … igirumušen-igirumušen-da du14 ga-nam mu-da-mú ‘On this very day the quarreler Turtle began indeed to quarrel with the herons’; Gragg translates: ‘… (said) “I will indeed pick a quarrel!” ’ and obviously assumes a cohortative; see further TCTI 1, 1036 ii 9 (= iv 2 = v 4) muš-e ×ìri-si-×á zú ga-nam ma-ni-ku5 ‘The snake did, indeed, bite me in the toe’; Šulgi B 74–75 (STVC 52 + SS 42, fig. 2: CBS 13992 ii 19–20 = SS 42, pl. I–VI: CBS 7071+2345+2354 ii 16–17 = SS 42, fig. 4: UM 29-16-411 = ii 14′–15′ = SS 42, fig. 6: N 1324:3′–4′ = SS 42, pl. XIII–XVI: 3N-T 411 ii 15–16) u4-ri-šè (/u4 me-da) u4 ul-lí-a-šè, ga-nam dili-bi ba(-an)-da-sè-ga(-a/àm) lú nam-mu-d[a-a]b-bé (/na-mu-[…], nam-mu-da-du11, nam-mu-ši-íb-bé) ‘until distant days (/forever) until far away days, nobody may talk with me (saying): This is indeed something that is singly comparable to him (= his deeds).’

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4.3. Predicates without finite verbs 4.3.1. Nominal predicates Identifying or qualifying nominal predicates occur frequently. Their predicate may be an unextended noun or noun phrase like di×ir-ra-ni, d Šul-utul ‘His personal god is Šul-utul’ (Ean. 22 iii 5–6); more often the nominal predicate is extended by the enclitic copula, e. g., di×ir-ra-ni, d Šul-utul-am6 (En. I 29 xi 9–10). 4.3.2. “Pronominal conjugation” A very special use of INFINITE VERBS is the so-called “PRONOMINAL CONmostly equivalent to a subordinate temporal clause providing background information. It is formed from both PERFECTIVE and IMPERFECTIVE bases by the affixation of the sequence /-a + POSSESSIVE PRONOUN (+ [for the 1st and 2nd pers. sg.] -ne)/.105 The morphological inJUGATION”

105

See Edzard 1972:14–24, §§ 16–17; again discussed in Edzard 2003a:137–142, § 12.14.4 as the “conjugated participle or pronominal conjugation,” unfortunately not considering Krecher (1993b:96–98) who assumes that this syntagma should end regularly in a dimensional case marker. This he found in the suffix /-ne/ after 1st and 2nd person sg. suffixes and considered it “to be the postpositional form of the verbal infix of locative -ni- with the same /e/ : /i/-relationship as between -šè and -ši-.” Krecher understands 3rd person sg. forms (without this -ne) as DIRECTIVEs, i. e. /_(a)ni/bi + e/ or, perhaps, as ABLATIVE-INSTRUMENTALs and explains “-NI, -BI as -/ni-t/, -/bi-t/.” He obviously observed that 3rd person forms may show explicitly written dimensional suffixes as, e. g., the ablative-instrumental ku4-ku4-da-ni-ta (7× in Inana’s Descent) or the locative in Lugalbanda II 290 (Wilcke 1969b:116) || Enmerkar and Ensu¶kešda’ana 128 (Berlin 1979:46) si-sá-a-na (D), si-sá-na (L, P), whereas 1st and 2nd person forms (at least to my knowledge) never show any such case marker. Yet, I cannot follow his conclusion that -ne (/-ne/) be a locative case suffix(/postposition) corresponding to the locative prefix /-ni-/ and restricted to these syntagmata only and that the 3rd person regularly uses different case markers, among them the regular locative suffix /-a/, but mostly one invisible in writing. He quotes “Enki and Nin-¶ursa×a” (Attinger 1984) ll. 7 || 10, text A) as the single example for 3rd person dili-ni-ne. Here— as I see it—the scribe confused the 1st person account of god Enki of his actions (as present in text B: dili-×u10-ne) with a narrator’s 3rd person tale he was presenting in his text A and which most probably resulted from the god’s name mentioned in the 3rd person in l. 8: ki dEn-ki(B: + ke4) dam-a-ni-da(/ta) ba(-an)-da-nú-a-ba A: ‘where Enki and his wife had lain together’; B: ‘Where Enki had bedded her, i. e., with her husband’ || 11 ki d En-ki(B: + ke4) dNin-sikil-la ba(-an)-da-nú-a-ba, A: ‘Where Enki and Ninsikila had lain together’; B: ‘Where Enki had bedded Ninsikila together with him.’ (The ergative of B obviously reinterprets the original text, now present in A; thus

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Opening Lectures

terpretation of the affixes—except for the POSSESSIVE PRONOUN identifying the subject of the clause; the opposition ERGATIVE :: ABSOLUTIVE is here neutralized in favour of the general notion of subject—is still discussed. The /-a/ (in front of the POSSESSIVE SUFFIXES) should be the NOMINALIZER;106 the /-ne/ will be the (enclitic?) demonstrative particle used here like in dili-×u10/zu-ne ‘I/you alone,’107 where it is obligatory with the 1st and 2nd pers. sg. whereas the 3rd pers. takes only the possessive suffix (in the form -ni/-bi/-nene)108 and does not show the additional suffix /-ne/ 109 —perhaps in haplology after the 3rd person

both witnesses seem to try to adapt a difficult and not fully understood text passage.)—Beyond these questions of detail remains the principal question: are adverbial phrases without dimensonal case marker possible or not? The adverbs mentioned above (4.2.2) show, in part, no case markers. The “subject” of the “pronominal conjugation” agrees mostly with either absolutive or ergative of the main clause. They stand in apposition to them. Where it does not agree with one of these two core parts of the sentence, it will be an apposition to another part of the sentence, be it explicitly mentioned or only virtually present. 106 It does not function as a marker of PERFECTIVE PARTICIPLES as it occurs with IMPERFECTIVE VERBS as well; Edzard is well aware of the problem and asssumes that an “element [a] … of a different origin, with a different function” is added to the suffix [-a] of PERFECIVE PARTICIPLES (and to the IMPERFECTIVE PARTICIPLES formed without it). But I prefer to assume a nominalized verbal phrase until explicit uncontracted forms (type *×en-na-a-×u10-ne) are found. He also discusses the exceptional behaviour of the marû base du (always without /-ed/!) ‘to go’ with its forms du-ni/ne-ne in pre-OB and some OB sources, e. g. Enm. 348 (A, N), 436 (U); other OB sources use du-a-ni, e. g., Enm. 481 (A), 491 (A), 577 (A), 588 (A). The full form du-a-ni occurs before OB times; see, e. g., Gudea Cyl. B v 10 dBa-ú á-mi-né-éš du-a-ni, munus-zi é-a-né-éš šu ×á-×á-àm ‘Ba!u was a true woman at work about her house, when he (Nin-×irsu) walked to her female quarter’; B viii 13–16 ur-sa× Eriduki-šè du-a-ni, silim-ma du10 di-dè, d Nin-×ír-su Eriduki-ta du-ni, iri r͂ú-a ×išgu-za-bi gi-na, nam-ti sipa zi, ×ù-dé-a-da, kiri4 šu ×ál-la-da ‘That the warrior when travelling to Eridu, may say a sweet “Hello,” that Nin-×irsu when coming (back) from Eridu may greet the well built town’s firmly erected dais with (an oracle for) the life of the right shepherd Gudea’ (Edzard 1997:91, 93 translates both quotes differently). The reason for using the full form of the possessive suffix here in “PRONOMINAL CONJUGATION” may be the stress the author puts on this event, especially its subject. 107 Literally: ‘This my/your being(/acting as) one.’ 108 With higher numbers we find, e. g., imin-a/na-ne-ne ‘the seven of them’ (TMH NF 6, 48, No. 12:5; 75, App. 1 i 5′). 109 See, e. g., Lugalbanda II 284 dili-ni; 286 dili-×u10/zu-ne (var. AA: dili-NI).

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POSSESSIVE PRONOUNS110

in order to avoid */-ni-ne/; */-nene-ne/ and also misunderstandings of singulars as plurals. Recently, Th. Balke111 discussed the PRONOMINAL CONJUGATION.112 He questions J. Krecher’s interpretation113 of the suffix /-ne/ (-ne, -né) as a “postposition” and as corresponding to the lovative prefix /-ni-/.114 He sees the “PRONOMINAL CONJUGATION” as a participial syntagma adverbially using a marû or ¶am¢u verbal base which he understands as an infinitive plus the “suffix of determination” -/a/, plus a pronominal suffix relating to the subject and a dimensional suffix -/ne/. Balke’s strange mix of participle, infinitive and adverb—though on different levels of form and function—looks like an attempt at boxing a circle. If the suffixed /-a/ is the “suffix of determination” (see the discussion above), then the verb forms cannot be participles since IMPERFECT participles are formed without it. He then separates 1st and 2nd person forms, which he considers late, from allegedly older 3rd person forms (attested in OS and Ur III sources). To do this, he arbitrarily declares the 1st person attestations from the Fāra period (brought to attention by M. Civil)115 as PNs with (irregularly spelled) predicate mu-ne ‘is his/her name’ and overlooks the Ur III incantation TCTI 1, 1036 ii 13–14 [a-a-×u10? a? ab]zu-`ta èa-a-gu10-ne, dEn-ki `a?a abzu-ta è-a-×u10[n]e, a GUR8?.GUR8?(-)ma-[(x-)-ta], zi PIRIØ.PI[RIØ-×]á? ×en-na-×u10-ne, x [x x ¶a]r-ra-an EŠ.ÚAR-ka ×e26-e ×en-na-×u10-ne, muš-e ×ìri-si-×á zú ga-nam ma-ni-ku5 ‘[My father], when I came out of the [waters?] of [Ab]zu, Enki, when I came out of the [waters?] of Abzu, when I walked [from] the … water with the breath o[f li]ons? when I walked on the … the road of …, a snake did, indeed, bite me in the toe.’ Balke, finally, links the suffix /-ne/ which he now calls a “lokale Postposition”116 to “isolierenden (italics: Th. B.) Postpositionen wie z. B. -ri oder -e” and the suffix /-e/ M. Yoshikawa had observed in

110

The alleged obligatory DIRECTIVE-suffix -/e/ postulated by (Krecher and) Balke in the “PRONOMINAL CONJUGATION” after 3rd pers. sg.-forms in -/(a)ni/ is ruled out by forms like the locative in Lugalbanda II 290 || Enmerkar and Ensu¶kešda’ana 128 si-sá-a-na (D), si-sá-na (L, P). 111 Balke 2006:68ff. 112 Strangely, this book of 2006 (preface dated xii 2005) neither discusses nor even mentions Edzard’s detailed contributions of 1972 and 2003. 113 Krecher 1993b. 114 Balke 2006:69: “Allerdings scheint mir seine Annahme, es handele sich bei -ne um die postpositionale Ensprechung zum Lokativpräfix -NI- … zumindest bedenklich.” 115 Civil 2000, referring to OIP 99, 329 i 4–5 (2 forms) and 388 iii 3–4; iv 1–4; v 1, 3, 5; vi `1, 3a, 5 (12 forms). 116 What, before, he had called “zumindest bedenklich.”

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Opening Lectures genitive compounds and convincingly explained as the demonstrative particle of near-deixis.117 Above (fn. 94), we found the so called “isolating postpositions” to be identical with the homonymous demonstrative particles. Thus, surprisingly, Balke reaches a solution very close to the one proposed here.

4.4. Morphology of verbs 4.4.1. Aspect and conjugation patterns118 The choice of PERFECTIVE/¶am¢u or IMPERFECTIVE/marû verbal bases and of a CONJUGATION PATTERN (PRETERIT or PRESENT-FUTURE) and the presence or absence of the partly optional suffix /-ed/ express ASPECT. 4.4.2. Different verb bases ASPECT/TENSE, NUMBER and NOUN CLASS/GENDER matter for infinite verbs as they do for finite ones. The PERFECTIVE INFINITIVE serves as the basic verb base; it is the form quoted in lexical lists. Regular verbs use the same base in the IMPERFECTIVE, too. Others reduplicate it (with loss of final consonants) for the IMPERFECTIVE or use different lexemes (alternation class)119 partly also for the infinite IMPERFECTIVES. They may add the suffix /-(e)d/—the choice ruled by the absense of ERGATIVITY with finite verbs and by the lexicon for NON-ERGATIVE verbs; yet, with infinite in-

117

Yoshikava 1992. It is difficult to decide whether Sumerian verbs are ruled by the notion of ASPECTS or that of RELATIVE TENSES. For convenience, I differentiate between “perfective” and “imperfective” verb bases (ASPECTS) and the conjugation patterns “PRETERITE” and “PRESENT FUTURE” (TENSES). 119 J. Krecher (1995:163–173) develops the theory that graphically reduplicated PERFECTIVE (¶am¢u) bases of regular verbs or of the alternation class may logographically indicate marû bases. But there is no proof that his examples do not represent free reduplication (to indicate plurality of events or PATIENTS). He states (p. 176, fn. 59 on šu--TI.TI): “Ich kann die Deutung, die C. Wilcke in Fs. Moran 494 für diese mit TI.TI (oder mit einfachem TI, s. § 21) gebildeten Formen gibt (‘… ist mit der ¶am¢u-Basis gebildet’), nicht akzeptieren, auch weil ich seiner Argumentation zugunsten eines ‘Passivs’ nicht zustimme.” In § 21 (p. 161) he even includes the unreduplicated (simple) writings of the PERFECTIVE base /TI/ (in šu--ti ‘to receive,’ alternation class) and of the regular verb /šúm/ without the suffixed marû-/ERGATIVE marker /-e/, calls them, although there is no ergative noun or pronoun in the sentence, “ergativische Belege” and says: “Dort ist überall die marû-Basis zu erwarten.” Wilcke had based his idea of a passive on exactly these forms. I’m afraid, but I cannot follow the logic of Krecher’s argument. D. O. Edzard (2003a:75) accepted Krecher’s interpretation of TI.TI as a marû-base. 118

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transitive verbs /-ed/ is obligate.120 PERFECTIVE PARTICIPLES suffix /-a/ to the base; the IMPERFECTIVE one is identical with its infinitive. IMPERFECTIVE bases with suffixed /-(e)da/ or /-(e)de/ mostly have a modal meaning (‘in order to’ etc.). PERFECTIVE bases with suffixed /-ada/ mean the same in the PASSIVE (of the ANTIPASSIVE). For /-ada/ in a finite verb form see NRVN 236 Ur-sukkal-ke4, é ki.×iš kiri6-ka-ni, al-r̃ú-e, ×iš gú ki á-ni, na-an-gaba-ti-[l]a-da, lú na-me, gù nu-um-×á-×á-a, á-á×-×á sa××a-ta, Ur-mes-e kišib in-na-taka4!(RU) ‘Ursukkal will build his garden house. By order of the temple administrator, Ur-mes issued a document to him that nobody will claim trees, yield or place while his work may not have been finished’ (or: ‘… his trees, yield, place, or work, as long as his health has not been restored’). Some verbs use special, lexically different bases with plural absolutives.121 The semantic field of going and bringing(/causing to go) produced an especially diversified pattern of verb bases differentiated lexically according to ASPECT/TENSE, NUMBER of PATIENTS (= participants in the absolutive): for ‘(to go and) stand’ SINGULAR /gub/ (DU) and PLURAL /su8.g/ (DU+DU), for ‘to go’ the PERFECTIVE SINGULAR /×en/ (DU) with its plural /ere/ (DU+DU) 122 and the With the exception of the verb ×en (PERFECTIVE)/du (IMPERFECTIVE), pl.: er (PERFECTIVE)/su8.b (IMPERFECTIVE) ‘to go.’ 121 Steinkeller 1979. 122 This plural seems to apply only to “going en groupe” since there are also the rare morphologically marked PERFECTIVE PLURALS of the reduplicated base ×en: see SAT 1, 16 (Š 46 xi) 7;1.0 še gur lugal, ki PN1 ù PN2-ta, šà-gal éren Ma-da-ad-ga-šè, mu-×en-×en-né-éš, kišib PN3, šu ba-ti, date ‘7 royal kor, 60 liters of barley from PN1 and PN2 as food for the Madgaean troop—they came here individually—the receipt of PN3 was received. Date.’ And the singular verb base may also take plural subjects: RTC 330:7 (2 men) Šušinki-ta nam-da ×en-na-ne-ne ‘were it not for them (?) having gone from Susa’; 335:8 (3 men) ki énsi-šè ×en-na-ne-ne ‘having gone to the governor.’ Reduplicated ×en together with DP 83 ì-kux(DU)-kux(DU)-ra-am6 (see above, fn. 10) lets us reconsider the reading “mu(-na)-kux-r͂e6-na-am6/kam” proposed by Krecher (1987:14f.) for OS mu(-na)-DU.DU-na-àm/kam, where he has to assume a still unexplainable suffix /-en/. Two observations seem crucial for understanding these formulations in the so-called “mašdaria documents”: a) in AWL 175 (= VS 14, 179) i 8 – ii 2 we read: 1 maš sig, Sig4-ki, sa××a, Pa4-pa4, Lagaški-ša10, da mu-na-ri ‘The temple administrator Sig-kibegi brought along a lean kid to (princess) Papa into (the city of) Lagaš,’ which clearly demonstrates that he himself came to Lagaš to his princess to hand over his gift. This remark applies to the persons and animals in the entries following it (Sallaberger 2005a:252ff.), and it consequently does not apply to the 2 entries in i 1–7: maš da ri-a ‘yield (or metaphorically: a male kid) brought along’ by the wives of the pal120

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Opening Lectures IMPERFECTIVE SINGULAR /du/ (DU) with the PLURAL /su8.b/ (DU+DU). We find special bases for special classes of PATIENTS to express ‘to bring’ i. e., if an AGENT takes part in the event (though not necessarily in the sentence), e. g., in OS Lagaš the verb /ra/ for cattle (including small cattle, PERFECTIVE PLURALS), but DU (reading túm as for persons?) for the respective SINGULARS.123 The PERFECTIVE SINGULAR verb for humans (in Lagaš and elsewhere), cattle and boats (no evidence from post OS Lagaš), i. e., beings able to move by themselves is /túm/ (DU) as opposed to /r͂e6/ (DU) for things needing someone to move them around, whereas the base tùm is used in the IMPERFECTIVE SINGULAR for all types of bringing and la¶4 for plurals of persons and cattle (no boats attested).124 On the other hand, the NUMBER of AGENTS and the ASPECT decide the choice of the base of the verb ‘to say’: PERFECTIVE SINGULAR /du11.g/, PERFECTIVE PLURAL /e/; but IMPERFECTIVE SINGULAR and PLURAL /e/. A similar pattern related to the AGENT may, perhaps, be postulated for the verb ‘to take as one’s due,’ PERFECTIVE SINGULAR /ba/,125 PERFECTIVE and IMPERFECTIVE PLURAL /be6 /.126

ace administrator and the surveyor, who will have resided in the palace and certainly needed not come to Lagaš. But they, too, had to deliver their animals in person. I therefore read in the summation in col. ix 1 – x 3: šu-ní×in 13 udu nít[a], 9 sila4, 9 maš, maš da ri-a, Bára-nam-tar-ra, dam Lugal-an-da, énsi Lagaški-ka-ra, ezen še kú, dNanše-ka, mu-na-×en-×en-na-am6 ‘Total: 13 rams, 9 male lambs, 9 male kids: it is the “yield brought along” from those who came individually to B. wife of L., prince of Lagaš, during Nanše’s “barley-eating-festival”.’ DP 212obv. specifying only the animals, not the contributors, is then to be understood as ‘(Animals,) “it is the yield brought along” from those who came individually into the ki-a-na× (place for funerary offerings) during the festival of the god Lugal-Urub.k into (the city of ) Urub.’ The enclitic copula hides the dimensional relation, which otherwise might be expressed by the ablative -ta or by a circumposition like ki … -ta. b) The genitive at the end of the subscript of Nik. 1, 157 (Selz 1989; Nik. 157) clearly shows the nominalized phrase before -kam in mu-na-DU.DU-na-kam as the possessor of the maš da ri-a: ‘it is the “yield brought along” of those who, when B. had given birth to a daughter, had come to her individually to the palace’ (maš da ri-a, Bára-nam-tar-ra, dumu ì-tu-da-a, é-gal-šè, mu-na-×en-×en-na-kam). Selz’s translation ‘Mašdari’a-Abgaben für Baranamtara, die man, (als) sie eine Tochter geboren hatte, zum “Palast” ihr (feierlich) zugetrieben hatte, sind es’ is ungrammatical; see already Wilcke 1985:294. 123 Bauer 1971:152. 124 Sallaberger 2005b. 125 Not to be confused with ba ‘to divide’ (also used for dividing estates). 126 See Steinkeller 1983:246f. quoting ba-da/dam (HLC, pl. 113: HLb 238 xv 21, 24; Steinkeller reads be4-dam) as variants to be6-dam; see further, AAICAB 1/1, pl. 37: Ashm. 1911-228 iv 8, 10 be6-dam.

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4.4.3. Ergativity, antipassive and the passive to it 4.4.3.1. The problem Most scholars have adopted Piotr Michalowski’s view of split ERGATIVITY in Sumerian127 and see the transitive PRESENT-FUTURE-CONJUGATION as NON-ERGATIVE and SUBJECT/OBJECT oriented. Not so Dietz Otto Edzard. He orally admitted that it fitted the verb; but he saw “the nominal system … definitely ERGATIVE.”128 4.4.3.2. Wolfgang Schulze’s explanation Very recently, in Stuttgart, over a cup of coffee, during the coffee-break of a conference on “Laughter and Weeping,” Wolfgang Schulze, professor of general and theoretical linguistics of the University of Munich, solved the problem for me—I hope, for us. His solution is simple.129 Obligatory AGENT and optional PATIENT marking shows the transitive PRESENT-FUTURE-CONJUGATION as an “ANTIPASSIVE.”130 The “ERGATIVE” marker of the noun in the role of the subject has supplanted an originally different ANTIPASSIVE one. That, he said, happens frequently in Caucasian languages.131

127

Michalowski 1980. Edzard 2003a:90. 129 Schulze and Sallaberger (2007) now explain in a highly formalized way the relations between nominal referents and their “echos” in the verb and describe the PRESENT FUTURE conjugation pattern as an ANTIPASSIVE and also the PASSIVE to it. 130 After this paper was read in the opening session of the 2007 Rencontre, M. L. Khachikyan kindly gave me her article discussing the PRESENT-FUTURE pattern as an ANTIPASSIVE which had just appeared in B&B 3 (2006) for the 2007 rencontre. Recurring on Klimov (1983) and Hopper–Thompson (1980), she explained the ANTIPASSIVE nature of the PRESENT-FUTURE pattern by the lower transitivity of IMPERFECTIVE verbs as compared with the high transitivity of PERFECTIVE ones. She did not know Wilcke 1990:488–498, where the term “ANTIPASSIVE” was not used. Much as we agree in understanding the PRESENT-FUTURE conjugation pattern as an ANTIPASSIVE, I cannot follow her interpretation of the 3rd person pl. ergative maker /-ene/ of verbs as identical with the nominal plural marker /-ene/ of persons “expressing the plural of active nouns” and “to ascribe it the function of the active subject marker,” since it marks the plural of persons regardless of their role as “active subjects,” e. g. of genitives (Falkenstein 1949:74) or of a dative: Gudea Stat. I iii 4–6 = P iii 3–5; it marks a PLURAL ABSOLUTIVE, e. g., in Lugalbanda I 59 imin-bé-ne (d)Uraš-e tu-da šilam(/šìlam) ga kú(-a)-me-eš ‘these seven are born by Uraš and breast fed by the š.-cow.’ 131 See now Schulze–Sallaberger 2007:192–212. 128

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4.4.3.3. The passive to the antipassive A simple solution, indeed. It also explains the special PASSIVE to the transitive PRESENT-FUTURE-CONJUGATION formed by deleting the AGENT and its referent in the verbal chain as well.132 It is natural—Schulze said—to have a PASSIVE to an ANTIPASSIVE. We now understand why AGENT and PATIENT swap markers and slots in the verbal chain in the PRESENT-FUTURE: the AGENT takes the “PATIENT’s role” of governing the sentence and vice versa the PATIENT the dependent role of the AGENT. It then seems cogent for them to also switch their morphological referents.133 4.4.3.4. The 3rd person ergative markers There is an exception. In the 3rd person, suffixed /-e/ in the singular and /-ene/ for the plural of persons replace the “ABSOLUTIVE” suffixes /-Ø/ and /-eš/ respectively. I try to explain this as follows. Transitive PRESENT FUTURE 3rd persons are formed in the patterns: regular verbs -BASE-e and -BASE-e-ne alternation class -BASEmarû-e and -BASEmarû-e-ne reduplication class -BASEv.BASEv and -BASEv.BASEv-ne Passivisation (AGENT and AGENT marker deleted) regular verbs -BASE and -BASE alternation/redupl. class -BASE¶am¢u and -BASE¶am¢u

There is no suffix /-e/ in singular and plural after bases of the reduplication class. The suffix /-ne/ of the plural corresponds to the pronominal element /-ne-/ used with 3rd person plural dimensional prefixes and as plural marker for PATIENTs in this ANTIPASSIVE construction. We therefore may segment the plural suffix /-ene/ into the /-e/ of the singular and the pronominal plural marker /-ne/ of verbal prefixes (and perhaps of the 3rd person pl. personal pronoun /anene/ [a-ne-ne] :: singular /ane/ [a-ne]). If we form the passive by deleting the AGENT and its verbal suffix, then the PERFECT/¶am¢u bases automatically replace the corresponding 132

Wilcke 1990:488–498; not discussed in Edzard 2003a; see now Schulze–Sallaberger 2007:204–206. 133 Bußmann 21990:86f.: “Antipassiv. Konstruktion in Ergativsprachen, in denen eine passivähnliche Struktur grundlegend ist. Wie im Aktiv der Nominativsprachen wird auch im A. typischerweise das Agens einer Handlung durch das ‘Subjekt’ (vgl. → Absolutiv) kodiert; das A. ist jedoch morpho-sytaktisch komplexer und unterliegt mehr Beschränkungen als die grundlegende Diathese des ergativen Sprachtyps.”

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IMPERFECT/marû bases (ALTERNATION and REDUPLICATION classes). This shows that the 3rd person singular AGENT marker encodes the IMPERFECT/marû ASPECT—or rather the other way round: the marker of the IMPERFECT/marû ASPECT (or: the PRESENT-FUTURE TENSE) is in the ANTIPASSIVE identical with, and functions as, that of the AGENT.134

4.5. Excursus 1. An antipassive to the PRETERIT/¶am¢u conjugation? 4.5.1. The problem If the transitive PRESENT-FUTURE-CONJUGATION is construed as an ANTIPASSIVE—could there also be an ANTIPASSIVE in the PRETERITE one? It should follow the same pattern, switch the markers of AGENT and PATIENT and their positions in the chain. It cannot be observed before the Ur III period because the earlier writing system has not yet begun to note syllable final consonants. And it would compete with the ergative construction. But we see thousands of records in the Drēhim archives document that ‘PN “received” (animals)’ writing: PN ì-dab5. Is this a defectively written ERGATIVE PRETERIT /PN /NAME

i-n-dab5-Ø/ PREFIXatelic-ERG3rd sg. h.-BASE-ABS/

or a putative ANTIPASSIVE: /PN() i-{b-}dab5-Ø/ /NAME() PREFIXatelic-{deleted: ABS3rd sg. not-h.}-BASE-AGENT/?

If the morpheme swap between ERGATIVE and ABSOLUTIVE included the case suffixes we even need not assume a graphically suppressed ERGATIVE suffix. But among the examples below we find several with an explicitly written ERGATIVE. 4.5.2. Arguments in favour of a PRETERIT ANTIPASSIVE This analysis becomes more conspicious when the receiving official is Inta!e!a (In-ta-è-a), the writing of whose name shows beyond any doubt the scribe’s familiarity with writing an initial syllable [in] in a verbal chain with the sign IN. In adition, the consistent lack of an “ERGATIVE” marker visible in writing in the slot in front of the verbal base right beside explicitly marked ergatives in the PRETERIT and PRESENT FUTURE (ANTIPASSIVE) con-

134

This explanation bridges the differences in the views of Yoshikawa 1974:18 (= 1993:31f.); Jacobsen 1988:180, Krecher 1995 and of Edzard 2003a:84.

38

Opening Lectures

jugation patterns suggests PRETERIT ANTIPASSIVEs encoding the AGENT with the “ABSOLUTIVE” marker (Ø) in the slot of the PATIENT after the base. Plural forms like ì-dab5-bé-eš ‘they (= 2 people) took them (= 2 donkeys)’ or ì-pà-dè-éš ‘they swore’ and the writing ×á-e maškim-šè! ì-tuku ‘he has taken me as attorney’ showing Ø after the base and thus lacking the 1st person “ABSOLUTIVE” suffix (/-en/, to appear as -un) referring to the PATIENT of the action in an ergative construction are consistent with this interpretation, as are the transitive verb forms in ì-im- discussed above (2.3.4.3a) and parallel ones writing im- only without an ERGATIVE marker in front of the base.135 Could then the split ERGATIVE PRETERIT plural marker /-n-BASE-eš/ have developed out of the plural marker /-eš/ of persons in the putative PRETERIT ANTIPASSIVE (identical with that of the absolutive in the INTRANSITIVE NORMAL PATTERN) by adding that of the 3rd p. singular ERGATIVE PRETERITE? And when would that development have taken place? 4.5.3. Examples NRVN 266 (ŠS 8 iv 15) similar

MVN 13, 518 (AS 4)

similar NATN 920 (AS 6)

similar HLC, pl. 67: HLb 50 (—)

135

14 ×uruš šitim u4-1-šè, ki Amar-šuba-ta, Ur-dEn-líl-lá-ke4 ì-dab5 ‘Ur-Enlila “received” from Amar-šuba 14 mason man days.’ BE 3/1, 21; BIN 3, 503; 5, 103(?); MVN 10, 160; NATN 103, 748, 836; NG 12, 112:19; NRVN 234; SAT 1, 194; TCS 1, 297, 446; TENUS 482; TMH NF 1–2, 246–250; TPTS 324; UTI 3, 1931, 2131 et passim, see, e. g., Koslova 2000:350 (index); MVN 21, p. 159 (index); MVN 22, p. 218 (index). [1 anšekúnga x], Bala-sa6-ga ì-dab5, 1 anšekúnga níta, Šu-zu ì-dab5, šu+ní×in 2 anšekúnga, mu-DU lugal, ki dŠára-ta, ì-dab5-be6-éš, … ‘Balasaga “received” [1 x mule]; Šuzu “received” 1 male mule. They “received” in all 2 mules, a royal delivery, from (god) Šára …’ BE 3, 81. [a]bulla ma¶ ki d[i-ku5] dNin-urta-ka, U4-ma-ni-×ar úrdu x[ ], A-tu ad-da-ni [ ], nam-ì-gi4-lá-šè, ama-ar-gi4-ni ì-×ar, Lú-giri17-zal, Lú-di×ir-ra šeš A-tu-me, nu-ù-ub-gi4-gi4-dè-ša, mu lugal-bi in-pà … NG 30, 74, 77, 127, 137, 145. 0;1.0 da[bin?], Nin-e-ì-`zua, Ur-dLama, ì-gi nu-gi, Šà-ki-bé, su-su-dam, *u4? 46-*šè?, iti šu-numun! ‘60 liters of [barley] flour of Nine-izu: will Ur-Lama have confirmed this, (it will be all right). Will he not have confirmed it, Šakibe will replace it. For 46 days. Month iv L.’

See Wilcke 1988:15 (b3) and 42f., with fn. 141.

C. Wilcke, Sumerian: What We Know and What We Want to Know TJAMC, pl. 69, IES 318 (AS 7 xi 29)

YOS 4, 227 (—)

CT 7, 18389 rev.:18f. (Š 36) similar NG 113:41 (Š 40) AUCT 1, 699 (AS 1 iii) similar

NRVN 115 (IS iii 6)

AUCT 1, 918 (AS 2 i)

similar AUCT 1, 423 (AS 7 ix)

similar

39

kaš sig5, 3;1.4.4 sìla kaš ×en gur, amounts of other commodities, sá-du11-r͂á, šà Ummaki, ×ìri ØIŠ.ZA.AN, kišib énsi-ka, Date, Ur-gi6-pàr-ke4, ì-gi-in, kaš sig5 Dān-ì-lí, šà kaš ×en-ka, ba-ab-du11 ‘(No) good beer, 3 Kor 104 liters of normal beer … “regular daily offerings?,” in Umma; way of ØIŠ.ZA.AN; sealed receipt of the governor. Date. Ur-gipar.k confirmed it. One said? the good beer of Dān-ilī to be among the normal beer.’ sí-im-tum Lú-dEn-líl-lá-ka, ½ sìla 4 gi×4 ì íb-`še8?a, sí-im-tum Ab-ba-gi-na, ì-gi-in, 8 gi×4 ‘the likeness of Lu-Enlila was annointed with ½ liter and 4 shekel of oil. Abbagina confirmed the likeness. 8 shekel.’ (Or: ‘Abbagina’s likeness was confirmed’?) Ur-É-ninnu, šar-ra-ab-du, nam-érim-bi ì-ku5 ‘The š.-official Ur-Eninnu swore the relevant declaratory oath.’ AOAT 25, 449:13; MVN 11, 122; NG 33, 58, 101, 124, 170; TENUS 484. [U]r-dLama-ke4, [in]im di-ku5 ì-kúr ‘Ur-Lama changed the word of the judges’ (cf. l. 30f.). ⅔ ša 1 ⅔ gi×4 urudu lu¶-¶a, mu šitim-šè, Lú-dNa-r͂ú-a, ì-lá ‘Lu-Nar͂u!a weighed out ⅔ pound, 1⅔ shekel of refined copper on behalf of the builders.’ AOS 32, pl. XI: TT 1; BIN 9, 257, 453; BIN 10, 74–75, 84; DCS 31; Nik. 2, 418, 420, 423; Rochester 227; TENUS 403; UET 3, 400, 403, 404, 408, 409, etc. (…), iti-sig4-ga lá-e-dè, mu lugal-bi, in-pà, ì-lá nu-lá, 3 gi×4 kù-babbar lá-da bí-du11 ‘(PN1 received 1 ½ shekels of silver from PN2). He swore to pay it in month iii. Will he have paid it, (it will be all right). Will he not have paid it—he swore to pay 3 shekels of silver.’ 4 ¶ar kù-babbar, PN1 dumu PN2 gala-ke4, u4 lugal-×u10, é PN2 gala-ka, kaš ì-na×-×á-a, in-ba ‘PN1, child of the “cantor” PN2, received as a gift 4 silver rings, when My Lord had drunken beer in the house of the “cantor” PN2.’ AUCT 1, 176, 942; JCS 10, 31, No. 12; but see AUCT 1, 457 and 793 (ì-in-na×-×á-a). 14;2.0 še gur, máš igi 3-×ál-bi si-ge4-dè, mu lugal-bi ì-pà, ki PN1-ta, PN2 ugula, šu ba-an-ti ‘14 Kor, 2 bushel—he swore to fill it up with its interest of 33 ⅓%—PN2 received from PN1.’ AUCT 1, 947; BE 3, 7, 11, 18; NATN 31, 106, 163, 217, 310, 319, 322–333, 336, 361, 437, 498, 528, 762, 791; NRVN 103, 111, 113, 208, 224, 247, 259; Berens 53; TMH NF 1–2, 22, 31, 32a, 40, 44, 63, 310; YOS 4, 1, 19, 22, 26, 33, 54, etc.

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Opening Lectures

NRVN 180 (IS 4) similar TCS 1, 50

(…) lugal-ra ù sa××a nu-na-bé-ne-a, mu lugal-bi, ì-pà-dè-eš ‘(…). They swore that (…), that they will not say it to the king or to the temple administrator.’ NATN 357; NRVN 186, 225; PBS 8/2, 157; TMH NF 1–2, 255+257. PN, sukkal-ma¶-e, ki šuku-a-ni, nu-me-a 0;1.0 GÁNA, in-na-anšúm-ma, ×á-e maškim-šè!, ì-tuku ‘PN, to whom the prime minister has given a 1 eše field lot because he had no lot of his own, has taken me for attorney.’

One may object that ì-dab5 is the traditional writing of a formula, that administrative documents are prone to formulaic writing and that it, like mu-DU, belongs with the quasi-nouns. W. Sallaberger (2005a) finds beside asyntactically joined parts of the OS and Ur III formularies136 in the 136 W. Sallaberger (2005a) has much improved our understanding of formulaic administrative documents. His theory of text segments arranged in syntaxless sequences helps analyse their structures. The subscripts categorizing transaction, participants, purpose, responsability, place and date sparsely use finite verbs and look—in part—like syntaxless juxtappositions of noun phrases—in Ur III documents more so than in OS accounts from Lagaš. One can read most subscripts of the great ration lists from OS Lagaš in the way Sallaberger analyses them (p. 253f.). But some of them explicitly show syntactic relations hidden in others by the rules that appositional noun phrases may share case suffixes (NP1 NP2-suffix) and that in sequential genitive clusters (type *A [B [C [D [E…]-ak]-ak]-ak]-ak) the number of genitive suffixes is (haplologically?) limited to a maximum of two. I hope to have exemplarily demonstrated in Wilcke 1993:30, fn. 5, that in DP 152 xi 3–7 an explicitly written genitive embraces the whole subscript. We therefore should perhaps not deny the ancient scribes their stylistic ability and aspiration for linguistic beauty (even in subscripts of administrative documents) in placing the queen (+ epithets) into a pivotal position as apposition to her mistress, the goddess Ba!u, and at the same time as the head of the appositional construction identifying the nu-banda En-iggal, who actually issued the goods, as her agent, artfully separated from him by a (temporal) locative phrase paralleling the (local) locative after his name (+ profession + ergative suffix). These subscripts thus convey a politically meaningful statement, the message that Irikagina’s ‘reform’ has been enacted: the goddess, not the queen, is owner of the estate; the humans are only her managers. Note also that Sallaberger (p. 254, 2.2.2) erroneously attributes the phrase(s) with copula (-kam = /-k-am/) in HSS 1, 2 ii 3–4 (dated royal year 4) to the subscript. They are part of the list of items accounted for and correctly missing in the subscript (iii 4). In HSS 1, 4 ii 2 – iii 5 (dated royal year 5) the copula, indeed, occurs in the subscript (but not in parallels BIN 8, 348; VS 14, 102!). This text differs fundamentally from those discussed in ASJ 22, 252–255. Not the queen, who administrates the household of goddess Ba!u, issues the goods, but king Irikagina himself, i. e., the steward of the household of Ba!u’s husband Nin-×irsu performs this act. The copula may there-

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41

much poorer Ur III forms. But the remaining Ur III verb phrases still keep their valency and relate grammatically to the participants of the transaction.137 These PRETERITs of the verb dab5 and frequent such spellings of other verbs, too, may be abbreviated or defective writings in notoriously conservative formulae. Indeed, normal ergative PRETERITs exist for all of the verbs involved and for some of them (e. g., weighing metal or cloth, oaths taken) even in identical contexts. The vagueness of a changing orthographic system does—for the time being—not allow for certainty in deciding for or against ANTIPASSIVES in these forms. It also would be quite difficult to on the basis of the written verb forms morphologically differentiate between such PRETERIT antipassives and passives to PRESENT-FUTURE antipassives. fore be used as a means to focus on the goddess as the owner of people and goods. But another aspect may also be relevant: with year 5 (VS 14, 147) the structure of the subscripts, strictly observed from royal year 2–9 onwards, begins to slightly dissolve (returning, in part, to earlier formulations), and HSS 1, 4 might be another witness to this process. Different subscripts with different syntactic relations need different analyses. 137 W. Sallaberger (2005a:261ff.) translates the finite verb šu ba(-an)-ti ‘(s)he received’ as ‘war Empfänger,’ as if it were a nominal phrase. It is the traditional old graphic form of what during the Ur III period increasingly begins to be written šu ba-an-ti (/šu ba-n-ti-Ø/) for the singular ergatives relating to the recipient(s), šu ba-an-ti-eš/éš (/šu ba-n-ti-Ø-eš/) for the plural of single persons and šu ba-ab-ti (/šu ba-b-ti-Ø/) for collective plurals. The absolutive marker /-Ø/ of the verb relates to the goods received (neutralization of the nominal part of the compound verb). There is no need for the verb to relate (with the terminative prefix) to the provider of the goods, who—if mentionend at all—occurs in an adverbial, circumpositional phrase. One cannot demonstrate in detail how the spellings of šu ba-ti develop during the Ur III period. I am most grateful to M. Molina who (in January 2009) gave me access to his BDTNS (Database of Neo-Sumerian Texts). It lists (2009-i-27) 1,115 entries for šu ba-an-ti (including 37 plurals šu ba-an-ti-eš/éš/iš) and 253 of the collective plural form šu ba-ab-ti ‘they received as a group.’ Together they amount to only about 12,54% of the 10,371 entries listed for traditional šu ba-ti (including 72 for plurals šu ba-ti-éš/eš), but their number alone shows the Ur III scribes using šu ba-(an/ab)-ti as a verb with active valencies relating to agents of different number and class. Chronological order clearly exhibits the progress of agent marking. What at first sight looks like a switch in plural marking from collective plurals to personal ones depends on the provenance: from IS 3–8, plurals occur only the Ur corpus, which lacks collective plural marking with this verb; no later plurals are attested for it (see the next page).

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Opening Lectures

Year No. -an-abp. pl.

23–35 07 09 01

36 01 01 00

Year No. -an-abp. pl.

Year No. -an-abp. pl.

37 03 00 01

01 05 07 01

01 17 22 01

38 02 00 00

Reign of Šulgi 39 40 41 42 05 01 03 08 05 00 00 05 00 00 00 01

Reign of Amar-Su!ena 02 03 04 05 06 09 06 09 07 08 03 04 01 05 03 00 00 00 00 00

Reign of Šū-Su!en 02 03 04 05 06 19 14 15 40 91 11 07 10 04 03 00 00 00 06 01

Y.N.

01

02

03

04

05

06

-an-abp.pl.

48 03 00

38 07 01

35 06 03

36 00 03

57 00 05

94 00 04

Reign of Ibbi-Su!en 07 08 09 10 11 34 00 02

46 00 05

00 00 00

01 00 00

00 00 00

43 06 03 00

07 25 20 01

07 175 000 001

44 06 08 01

08 16 11 00

08 43 09 01

45 05 05 00

46 08 05 00

47 06 02 00

48 12 02 00

09 14 05 00

09 41 03 01

12

13

14

15

16

01 00 00

02 00 00

01 00 00

09 00 00

02 00 00

17– 23 02 00 00

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Yet, normal PRETERITs of the verb dab5 are rare in the Ur III documentation, and their contexts differ from those quoted above and thus suggest for ì-dab5 either a graphically frozen formula or an ANTIPASSIVE: NG 214:29–33 (—)

TCS 1, 229

PDT 1, 445 (ŠS 7 ii 1)

ZA 53, 70ff. IM 28051 (Išme-Dagan) AAICAB 1/1, pl. 6: 1910–754:7

PNf1 géme PN2-kam, é-šu-šúm-ma ì-zà¶-àm, buru14-ka PN3 in-dab5, PN4 ba-an-da-an-kar, PN5 ù PN6 íb-gi-in ‘PNf1 is the slave girl of PN2. It is established that she ran away from the š.-building. PN3 seized her for harvest . PN4 took her away from him. PN5–6 confirmed it.’ dam PN1-ka, a-šà-ga-ni, PN2 ba-ab-gub, a-šà in-dab5-ba-na, naba-e-r͂ú ‘One has placed PN2 at the field of the wife of PN1. She should not be obstructed in (the use of) her field, of which she has taken possession.’ 3 udu niga 3-kam ús, Me-dIštaran, mu mu-DU é u4-15-ka-ni d En-líl-zi-šà-×ál maškim in-dab5-ba-šè, ki-ba ba-na-a-×ar ‘3 fattened sheep of third quality of Me-Ištaran have been replaced to her, because the commissioner Enlil-ziša×al had seized her income for the “house-of-the-15th-day”.’ PNf, (…), PNm-e nam-dam-šè ba-an-tuku, (…), a-r͂á 3-kam-maka, ugu lú-ka in-dab5, … ‘PNm had married PNf. (…), at the third time he seized her on top of a man.’ 1 máš gal ur-ma¶-e igi lugal-šè íb-dab5 ‘1 adult billy goat—a lion caught it in the presence of the king.’

4.6. Finite verbs In describing the finite forms of verbs I start at the end, where the chosen lexeme provides basic information about the event and where the main participants are marked with their roles in the event. Before starting with this “core” we have to shortly look at a modal and a syntactical suffix. 4.6.1. Syntactical and modal suffixes 4.6.1.1. Nominalizator /-a/ suffixed to finite verbs nominalizes them together with their noun phrases so that they may be included into a principal sentence as a subordinate clause, their role there determined by case suffixes.

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4.6.1.2. A modal suffix A suffix /-(e)še/ directly attached to finite verbs and to nominal predicates marks them as part of quoted direct speech (comparable to the Akkadian suffix -mi) and may express the speaker’s uncertainty about the truth of the statement.138 4.6.2. The core participants of the event: patient and agent, absolutive and ergative 4.6.2.1. Position and function, general The markers for the core participants of the event, the PATIENT (ABSOLUTIVE) and AGENT (ERGATIVE) enclose the verbal base and its possible extension /-(e)d/, but with a rarely bridged syllable boundary between prefixes and verb base (see above, 2.3.2). There is no such gap before suffixes. To separate this section with its possible switches of positions of ergative and absolutive, I shall name the slots for the different morphemes from back to front with letters. Slot a is taken by the participant governing the event which is obligate. It is the absolutive in the NORMAL CONSTRUCTION and the transitive subject in the ANTIPASSSIVE/PRESENT FUTURE. The markers are: 1st sg. -en

2nd sg. 3rd sg.h/nh -en Ø

1st pl. -enden

2nd pl. -enzen

3rd pl. -eš/-ne

(The [e] of 1st and 2nd p. sg. + pl. merges with the ANTIPASSIVE marker /-e/ and mostly assimilates to the vowel of the base as do the [e] of the 3rd pl. ABSOLUTIVE /-eš/ and ERGATIVE PRETERIT /-n-BASE-eš/; the pronominal 3rd p. plural marker /ne-/ marks the 138 See Falkenstein 1952; Edzard 2003a:58f., § 13:1 explaining his convincing solution for the long enigmatic passage Gudea Cyl. A v 13–15 in Edzard 1997:72. There the suffix written -ŠÈ (-éše) is affixed to the nominal predicates (without enclitic copula!) when the goddess Nanše quotes from Gudea’s description of his dream. Edzard also refers to TCL 2, 5557:1–3 (suffix written -ši), words of the creditor A!aba-saga, quoted in the oath the debtor Ur-ni×ara takes. ‘«“A!aba-saga has a silver credit with Ur-ni×ara” as he says—by the name of the king: I shall double it! I shall pay it back on the first day of month iv» he said.’ The suffix is written -eš-še (or is the -eš the plural marker of ergative preterits?) in Buccellati 1966, No. 10:5ff. 1 gu4 5 u8 dam Šar-ru-um-ì-lí, 1 gu4 5 u8 dam dŠul-gi-ì-lí mar-tu, 1 gu4 5 u8 dam Du-uk-ra, u4 dumu in-tu-eš-še ‘(1 ox and 5 ewes: the wife of dignitary NN)×3, when it was said: “She has given birth to a child” (or: “they have given birth to children”).’—Note that finite verbs need to be nominalized to be followed by the other (adverbial) phrases treated by Edzard in chapter 13 (/×ešen/, /nanna/, /šuba/ and /ri/).

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subject in the antipassive, which uses the same /-ne-/ for the 3rd p. pl. object in slot b. It tends to neutralize this ambiguity of morphemes by replacing the personal pl. marking of objects by collective, i. e., non-person markers).

The slot for the base needs no separate name. Bases may be differentiated as PERFECTIVE (¶am¢u) :: IMPERFECTIVE (marû); INVARIABLE BASES are for the ANTIPASSIVE/PRESENT FUTURE extended by suffixed /-e/. IMPERFECTIVE BASES may in the NORMAL CONSTRUCTION be extended by /-ed(-)/: Base, Base+e, Base¶, Basem, Base(m) + ed. Slot b, immediately in front of the base, takes the not obligate second participant, i. e., the ergative in the NORMAL CONSTRUCTION (but obligate in ergative sentences) or the object in the ANTIPASSIVE/ PRESENT FUTURE. The morphemes used are in principle the pronominal markers used with the dimensional prefixes (comitative, ablative, terminative and dative; see 4.6.3.1.2). But 3rd p. pl. ERGATIVES use in the NORMAL CONSTRUCTION a seemingly already old secondary development, splitting its marker into that of the singular (/-n-/ in slot b) and the plural ABSOLUTIVE (= PRETERIT ANTIPASSIVE[?]; see above 4.5.2) /-eš/ suffixed in slot a. And in the ANTIPASSIVE, 1st and 2nd person plural object markings are not yet attested (or identified). Here the speaker has no or almost no choice. The conjugational patterns rule form and use. The more we move towards the head of the verbal chain, the more subjective becomes the choice of morphemes, and the greater becomes the involvement of the speaker. 4.6.2.2. Diachronic aspects The 1st and 2nd person singular markers of PATIENTS (OBJECTS) change in the ANTIPASSIVE PRESENT-FUTURE: the originally suffixed ABSOLUTIVE morphemes /-en-/ of the NORMAL CONSTRUCTION replace the original PREFIXES /-y/ or /-V-/ in slot b in literary texts available in OB copies.139 We cannot yet know when this change took place, as no earlier pertinent references are available. This development partly affects also post Ur III ergative markings in the NORMAL CONSTRUCTION; see the Lipit-ištar inscriptions 2 and 5 in appendix 1.

139

See Attinger 1985 and Edzard 2003a:84f. (12.7.2); they assume no diachronic development.

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Opening Lectures

4.6.3. Objective and subjective relations of the event; objective and subjective space 4.6.3.1. Prefixes for objective spatial relations On our way to the head of the verb, from objective relations of the event to more and more subjective ones existing in the speakers’ mind only, from the primary participants of the event and its lexical definition marked in the core section over its relations in objective space until we finally reach moods and connectives which transgresss the borderlines of the sentence—on this way, we next meet the prefixes for spatial aspects, a field cut in two by the line separating objective and subjective perceptions of the event. The first group of prefixes relates it objectively to indirect objects, starting points and goals, i. e., the DIMENSIONAL PREFIXES arranged in 5 combinable slots of single or mutually exclusive morphemes. They come in two main subgroups, the second one once more separated into two parts. 4.6.3.1.1. Objective spatial relations, locative and directive: slots 1–2 In slot 1 of this category, as seen from the “core,” and thus closest to the “core” (verb+ergative+absolutive) stands the LOCATIVE prefix (/-ni-/). It could be regarded as mutually exclusive with that of the DIRECTIVE (traditionally: LOCATIVE-TERMINATIVE) (/-y-/),140 were it not for the prefix chains mi-ni- /ba-y-ni-/ and extremely rare im-mi-ni- (/i-m-ba-y-ni/), which, as far as I see, is not attested before the OB period. Therefore I assign slot 2 to the DIRECTIVE. Both prefixes are never accompanied by pronominal elements identifying the noun referred to.141 LOCATIVE and DIRECTIVE in principle relate only to referents of the non-human class. I suggest that -ni- in causative constructions (this includes the verb nam-tar) be understood as DATIVE -na- + DIRECTIVE -ywith persons and the LOCATIVE with non-humans (also in cases where no referent is named in the sentence among the participants to the event).

140 See Karahashi 2005, the remarks of Attinger (2007) and above, fn. 75, on the dilemma with the inadequate term(s). 141 I try here to avoid the traditional assumption of a locative-terminative prefix formed by a pronominal marker and a dimensional element /e/ or /i/. The prefix spellings bí-, (-Vm-)mi- and (-Vn-)ni- as well as -ri- are therefore analysed as /ba-y-/, /-m-ba-y/, /-(n)na-y/ and /-ra-y-/ before a following prefix, i. e., locative /-ni-/, or a prefix of the core group, i. e., ergative or absolutive.

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4.6.3.1.2. Objective spatial relations, terminative and ablative, and comitative. Slots 3–4 Next come the mutually exclusive TERMINATIVE and ABLATIVE and the COMITATIVE formed by the dimensional elements /-ši-/ (TERMINATIVE) or /-ta-/ (ABLATIVE) of slot 3 and /-da-/ (COMITATIVE: slot 4). An optional pronominal marker agreeing with class and person of the (actual or virtual) referent in the nominal sentence part may immediately preceed these dimensional elements (for conditions see 4.6.3.1.4). During the Ur III period, the [ta] of the ABLATIVE prefix /-ta-/ changes to [ra] if not protected by such a pronominal marker (mostly /b/) (often perhaps mute and invisible in writing) directly in front of it.142 The pronominal elements relating to the respective participants are 1st sg. 2nd sg. 3rd sg.h 3rd sg.nh 1st pl. 2nd pl. 3rd pl.h ? ? /-V -/ /-y -/ /-n-/ /-b-/ /me-/mu-e-/ ? /-ne-/ Edzard (2003a:97, see also p. 42) states that the ablative is “generally incompatible with persons” and points to the PN In-ta-è-a contradicting this rule (and to J. N. Postgate’s proposal to understand in-ta nominally as ‘from the stalk’). In the orthographically and syntactically difficult document NRVN 4:4–8, a woman announces to her debtor before witnesses: nam-bé-re-e a-me-ku5, 10 ma-na kù-babbar, ù-ra-lá-a, 1:ma-na:kù:àm,143 ga-a-ta-ab-taka4 ‘after you will have sworn the declaratory oath, after I paid to you 10 pound of silver, I shall leave behind ‘out of you’ one pound exactly.’ I assume the 10 pound payment to be the original debt and the promise of a 10% rebate the sweetener for the debtor to acknowledge the debt in a declaratory oath. The ablative ‘out of you’ /-y-ta-/ is then meant as ‘out of your debt.’

4.6.3.1.3. Objective spatial relations, the dative. Slot 5 At the head of this section stands the DATIVE. Dative prefixes occur only for referents of the class of persons and are necessarily differentiated according to person or number. The dimensional element of the prefix—originally most probably /-a-/—merges with the pronominal markers—for the 1st. pers. sing. and pl. and also with the subjective spatial /m-/prefix—into a special row “dative prefixes”; see also below, 4.6.3.2.3 with fn. 159.

142

See Jagersma 2005:83, fn. 3; see also above with fn. 86. Read most probably: kù ma-na 1-àm: the copula topicalising the number, the number following the measure as an attribute, the measure following the materia measured as an apposition. 143

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Opening Lectures 1st sg. /ma-/

2nd sg. /-ra-/

3rd sg.h /-(n)na-/

1st pl. /me-/

2nd pl. ?

3rd pl.h /-ne-(a144-)/

The locative takes the role of the dative for the class of non-humans/persons.

4.6.3.1.4. Objective spatial relations, choice and pronominal marking Prefixes of all slots may combine; those of the terminative/ablative, comitative and dative are or may be accompanied by a pronominal element, when—and only when—at the head of this group.145 The choice, which relation is explicitly echoed in the prefix chain and which not, may—at least partly—be the speaker’s. 4.6.3.2. Prefixes for subjective spatial relations. Slots 6–8 4.6.3.2.1. Prefixes for subjective spatial relations: definition With the second group of spatial prefixes the speaker attributes the event to his/her own sphere (m-prefixes) or to one different from it (ba-).146 This is “the most controversial part of Sumerian grammar.”147 Form, segmentation and meaning are disputed. I shall here extend the narrow category of spatial relations to cover also relations expressed to remote objects or events linked by means of the prefix /-nga-/ to those in the foreground of the communication. The prefixes of this group may—and quite often do—occur alone; but they are also combinable. 144 Introductory formulae of Ur III letter orders with more than one addressee use ù-ne-a-du11 /ù-ne-a-y-du11-Ø/, see Sollberger 1966:2 formula 4a and, e. g., Molina 1999–2000, No. 1; Pettinato–Waetzoldt 1968:169, No. 1. 145 See the discussion in Edzard 2003a:109. 146 The traditional term “CONJUGATIONAL PREFIXES” is no longer practical. Not only does it convey any semantic or functional meaning. Its definition is equally no longer clear. It was introduced by B. Landsberger apud Scholz 1934:3. A. Falkenstein (1949:179–180), seemingly the first to take it up, restricts it to “Die eigentlichen Konjugationspräfixe i- und mu-” and excludes “die uneigentlichen Konjugationspräfixe na-, ba- und bi-.” Th. Jacobsen (1965) does not speak of “conjugational prefixes” at all and rather describes form and functions. M. L. Thomsen (1984) extends the term to encompass /ĩ-/, /ã-/, /-ga-/, and /mu-/, /-m-/, /ba-/, /bi-/. P. Attinger (1993:261) puts “préfixes de conjugation” in quotation marks and uses instead “Préfixes II” for /i/, /a/, /mu/, /m/, /ba/, /bi/. D. O. Edzard (2003a) no longer speaks of “conjugational prefixes” and treats the different prefixes under different headings. Recently, P. Michalowski (2004:44f.) and Ch. Woods (2008) have reactivated the term, using it for /i-/, /a-/, /mu-/, /ba-/, /bí-/, and /imma-/, /immi-/. 147 Michalowski 2004:44.

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4.6.3.2.2. Prefixes for subjective spatial relations: different in different kinds of texts In the past, we were perhaps not always fully aware of the impact style has on grammatical analyses. The dry and objective style of everyday documents differs totally from the wording of PROCLAMATORY ROYAL INSCRIPTIONS. Their use of the prefixes under discussion has little in common. Speakers of PROCLAMATORY INSCRIPTIONS are, or identify with, the main participant of the events, mostly occurring in the roles of agent of transitive verbs and of subject (in the absolutive) of intransitive ones. The prefix /mu-/ dominating this corpus therefore strongly seems agent and subject oriented. In every day texts, however, only the verb /×ál/ ‘to exist’ produces a greater number of verb forms in /mu-/.148 They record things available or accessible to the speaker. 148

Other verbs, e. g. (here and below randomly picked references from the Sargonic and Ur III periods): JCS 35, 171, No. 7 nam-gú-šè mu-a5; ITT 2, 4690 iii 7 mu-bala-éš-a; NRVN 1:4 mu-dab5; TCTI 2, 2789:13 mu-dab5-dab5-bé-éš; CUSAS 3, 484 ní× šu-taka4 lugal mu-un-de6!-a; 1049 sa¶ar mu-un-de9(TI); 243, 304 siki/še GN-ta Øar-ša-naki-šè mu-un-de6-sa-a; AUCT 1, 444, 502, 661, 705; AUCT 2, 280; ECTJ 158; USP 7; ITT 1, 1101; ITT 2, 4417, 4690; MVN 7, 526; MVN 12, 439; NRVN 193; JCS 10, 30, No. 10; AOAT 25, 441, No. 6; 447, No. 10: all transitive mu-DU; ITT 1, 1422; ITT 2, 4647; NATN 466:3 (verbal?): intransitive mu-DU; TJAMC, pl. 70, IES 319; UTI 3, 1723:11; 1799ed. mu-gi-in; AAICAB 1/4, pl. 308b: TCICA 4 side d; BRM 3, 7:30–32; 10:19–21; CST 872 iii; MVN 4, 176, 177; Nik. 2, 281 mu-gi-né-éš; NATN 511:8 mu-ne-ši-gi4; AUCT 1, 948 (in PN); BE 3, 70:10; UET 3, 993; OSP 1, 134; TIM 9, 99; ITT 5, 6673; Or NS 40, 388, No. 2; PDT 1, 471rev.:3 mu-gi4; CUSAS 3, 529, 550 u4 má PN GN-ta Øar-ša-naki-šè mu-un-gíd-ša-a (cf. 551: … Ø.ki-ta GN-šè in-gíd-sa-a); SNAT 519 nu-tuku4 mu-gub; NRVN 7, 10; Nakahara 42 mu-×á-×á-a; for mu-×ál see above in the text; SAT 1, 16:4 mu-×en-×én-né-eš; TDr 2rev.:5ff. mu-¶ul; MVN 1, 143; PTST 562 mu-ku4-ra; SNAT 360 mu-ku4-ku4; Pettinato 1997, 45rev.:10 mu-la-¶[e?-š]a; OSP 1, 106; ITT 1, 1287; ITT 2, 4436; ECTJ 23; MVN 10, 160; USP 54; RA 80, 9–10, No. 2 mu-la¶5; BPOA 1, 972:8 mu-un-lu5-ga; MVN 13, 279 mu-me-ša; ECTJ 110 mu-mu4; ASJ 11, 154ff., l. 16 mu-sa10; MVN 13, 213 mu-ŠA; ECTJ 39 iv 13f. mu-še; NRVN 721 mu-na-ab-šúm-e; MVN 13, 672 mu-TAG.TAG; ITT 2, 5758 mu-TAR; TJAMC, pl. 23, IOS 15; AOAT 25, 444f., No. 9 i′ – ii 7′ mu-ti-la-(àm); UET 3, 35 mu-tùm-da; NRVN 6 mu-túm-mu-a; AAICAB, pl. 25a mu-un-tùm-mu-a; negated: MVN 18, 412rev.:3–4 i7 gú-mu-ra-ba-al bí-in-eš, i7 nu-mu-ba-al-eš; BPOA 1, 1156, 1370; BPOA 2, 2595 nu-mu-dab5-a-šè; AUCT 1, 444; BPOA 1, 174:5; 368:10; 1365:3; CST 595; MVN 12, 414, 439; MVN 13, 518; MVN 18, 563; NATN 403; Koslova 2000:154; AOAT 25, 441, No. 6; 444, No. 10; STA 27 i 14–15; TAD 54, 66; UET 3, 22 nu-mu-de6; NG 189 (ŠS 5) nu-mu-un-de6-a-šè; for nu-mu-×ál see above in the text; NRVN 59 nu-mu-da-×en; NATN 571; SNAT

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Opening Lectures Different from /x-Ø NOUN-a (LOCATIVE)/ i-in-×ál (or, without a locative referent in the verb: ì-×ál) ‘X is in NOUN,’ the formulation /x-Ø NOUN-a mu-×ál/, mostly used with /ki PN-(a)k-a/ ‘with PN,’ is the rule in Ur III economic texts for availability at a certain place; see, e. g., AUCT 1, 384; BPOA 1, 14 ii 9–12; 845:5 (-la); 1419:6 (-[×ál]); BPOA 2, 1877 i 7–8 || ii 24; CUSAS 3, 1057:3H = 4T (mu-un-×ál); BE 3, 70; CT 7, 31 (18391):12f.; JCS 31, 237, No. 8; HLC, pl. 119: HLb 250 ii 1, 9; iii 6′, 10′; MVN 2, 178; MVN 5, 26; MVN 6, 332; MVN 15, 203:9; MVN 18, 166:5 (but see lines 7 and 18–19); MVN 19, 127rev.; MVN 22, 178rev. ii 1–3; 229rev.:6ff.; Or SP 47–49, 143; SAT 2, 19; SAT 3, 1563; SNAT 155:3; TCTI 1, 720 iv 3f.; 728 iv 13; 896 ii 5; TCTI 2, 2562, 3423, 4133, 4284; TRU 36rev.; UCP 9, 255, No. 87; UET 9, 1154; UTI 1, 430; UTI 3, 1631; YOS 4, 29; cf. also SRU 91; negative: nu-mu-×ál: CT 5, 17 (12231) v 27f.; MVN 1, 138; MVN 18, 166:19; MVN 22, 178rev. ii 2′; NATN 25 i′, ii′; TCTI 2, 3733; UET 9, 1154; UTI 1, 231; UTI 4, 2338; YOS 4, 261.

On the other hand, extremely AGENT centered events like giving birth and killing149 lack the prefix in administrative documents but for the Sargonic governor of Adab Lugal-×iš writing to a subordinate (Lugal-parim4-e):150 [l]ú kí×-g[i4-a]-×[u10] [l]ú mu-ga[z] ‘somebody did slay my messenger.’ Here the focus is not on the unnamed agent but on the sender of the letter: Not anybody’s, but his messenger was slain. This letter thus clearly demonstrates that killing only warrants the prefix /mu-/ if it involves the speaker or his sphere. Birth OS: DP 218 vi 7 – vii 3 Bára-nam-tar-ra, dam Lugal-an-da, énsi, Lagaški-ka-ke4, dumu-munus ì-tu-da-a, ba-kú ‘was consumed when Bara-namtara, wife of Lugalanda, steward of Lagaš, had given birth to a daughter’; 219 i 1 – ii 2 1 udu níta Bára-ir-nun, dam Al-la, aslag-a-ke4, dumu in-tu-da-a, iti ezen dLugal-Urubki-ka til-la-ba, é-mu¶aldim-ma ba-na-sa6 ‘1 ram was cooked for her in the kitchen at the end of the month of the festival of L., when Bara-irnun, wife 535:13 nu-mu-da-a-tuku; AOAT 25, 441, No. 6 nu-mu-da-[an]-túm-ma-a-šè; 442f., No. 7 [nu-mu-n]a-gub-bé-en6; NRVN 53 nu-mu-na-ri; 232 nu-mu-na-ab-zi-zi-a. 149 See Woods 2008:115. 150 Kienast–Volk 1995, Ad 7. The address formula shows Lugal-×iš as the superior; the editors read the addressee’s name as “Lugal-maškim-e”; Limet (1968:172) lists no PN of the type lugal-X-e, where X is a person; I therefore understand it as ‘the king (went/stepped) (on)to the dry land.’—Whether we translate gaz as ‘to kill’ or as ‘to beat, to knock down’ depends on the context (like with Akkadian dâkum, ne!ārum, middle high German slagen or middle English to slay), whether the victim was still alive (what the editors assume) or not. The basic meaning ‘to smash’ leaves it open.

C. Wilcke, Sumerian: What We Know and What We Want to Know of the fuller Alla had given birth to a child’; Nik. 1 (= FAOS 15/1), 157 iv 2 – v 1 maš-da-ri-a, Bára-nam-tar-ra, dumu-munus ì-tú-da-a, é-gal-la, mu-na-×en-×en-na-kam ‘mašdaria-tax of those who had come to her into the palace, when Bara-namtara had given birth to a daughter’; 209 i 1 – ii 3 1 gu4 amar sig, maš-da-ri-a, PN, sagi ma¶-kam, Bára-na-tar-ra, dumu-munus ì-tu-da-a, mu-na-×en ‘1 lean bull calf is the m.-tax of the chief cupbearer PN. He had come to her, when Bara-namtara had given birth to a daughter’; TSA 45 iii 1–4 munus-e dumu ì-tu-da, é-gal-la ba-de6 ‘(Emmer and barley) were brought into the palace, when The Woman had given birth to a child.’ Ur III: Buccellati 1966, No. 10:5ff. 1 gu4 5 u8 dam Šar-ru-um-ì-lí, 1 gu4 5 u8 dam dŠul-gi-ì-lí mar-tu, 1 gu4 5 u8 dam Du-uk-ra, u4 dumu in-tu-eš-še ‘(1 ox, 5 ewes: wife of dignitary NN)× 3, when it was said: “She has (/they have) given birth to a child (/children).” ’ MVN 2, 317 1 máš, 2 udu-niga, a-r͂á 1-kam, 1 udu niga a-r͂á 2-kam, ki Nin-TUR.TUR-šè, 1 máš dEn-líl-lá-bí-du11, Nin-TUR.TUR-e dumu in-tu-da-a, IGI.KÁR é-gi4-a ‘(1 male kid, 3 fattened sheep in 2 consignments sent to) Nin-TUR.TUR, 1 male kid (for) Enlila-bidu, when Nin-TUR.TUR had given birth to a child. Provisions for the daughter in law’; MVN 18, 99:1–3 [n] udu niga, [n′] máš gal niga, IGI.KÁR {u4} dNin-líl-e-ma-kisic-á× u4 dumu in-tu-da-a ‘(small cattle,) provisions for Ninlile-maki’a×, when she had given birth to a child.’ Killing Sargonic and Ur III in-ug: NG 41:1–9 [di-til-la], [Ku-li dumu U]r-É-an-na-k[e4], [Ba-ba]-mu nar in-ug-a-aš, [igi sukka]l-ma¶-šè ba-gi-in, mu Ku-li ba-gaz, eger-a-ni ù dam dumu-ni, dumu Ba-ba-mu-ke4-ne, ba-ne-šúm-ma, Lú-Øír-suki maškim-bi-im ‘closed court case: L. ist the commissioner for the (case) that it had been proved in the presence of the Prime Minister that K., child of U. had killed the musician B. and that because K. had slain him, his estate and his wife and children had been given to the children of B.’ mu-gaz: Kienast–Volk 1995, Ad 7:5–6 (see above, fn. 150). na-ne-gaz-e: Kienast–Volk 1995, Um 5:5–7 [A]-ga-dèki lugal-àm, [l]ú A-ga-dèki, na-ne-gaz-e ‘Akkade is king! He may not kill people from Akkade!’ in-gaz: NG 202:10–14 PN1 dam PN2-ke4, PN3-ke4 PN2 dam-×u10 in-gaz bí-du11, PN3-ke4, lú inim-ma im-ta-an-è nu-un-gaz-a ‘PN1, wife of PN2, declared: “PN3 has slain my husband.” PN3 brought forward witnesses, that he had not slain him’; 15–17 IPN1, PN2 in-gaz, PN1 èn ba-an-tar … ‘PN1 had slain PN2. PN1 was questioned …’; JCS 10, 28: Emory 55:5–6 1 udu niga lugal-e ×íri-ta ingaz, uzu-bi Ú-la dumu-ni šu ba-an-ti ‘The king slew 1 fattened sheep with a knife(/dagger). His child Ú-la received its meat’; TRU

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Opening Lectures 367:9–10 1 udu niga gu4-e ús-sa, lugal-e ×íri-ta in-gaz ‘The king slew a fattened sheep of second quality with a knife(/dagger)’; bí-in-gaz: ZA 55, 83f. (IM 54405) [Ku5]-da-a udu 1-àm, [A]-zama-a [x], [síla?]-a bí-in-gaz, [×]ìri-ba 4 udu-[×u10], 5 ú-gu ba-an-dé[àm] bí-d[u11], A-za-ma-a udu in-d[a-ri?],
é-a-
na ba-ni-r͂e6-[a …], iti ezen-ma¶
Urí[ki-ma], Ku5-da di ga-ab-d[u11] di-da-ni, 10 A-za-ma-a, mu lugal tukum-bi, énsi ezen-ma¶-ta, rev. Ummaki-šè du-ni, di nu-ne-[du11], di-
ta ga!-taka4 [bí]-d[u11?], (rest destoyed) ‘Kuda declared: “Azama!a has slain one sheep on the road.” (He said) “On this trip 4 of [my] sheep were lost.” When Kuda declared in Ur in the month of the “sublime festival”: “I shall start a lawsuit,” Azama!a declared: “By the king’s name, if, after the ‘sublime festival,’ when the governor comes to Umma, I shall not start a lawsuit with them, then I shall withdraw from the lawsuit’ (rest destroyed).’ ” Cf. ba-gaz: MVN 5, 122rev.:1–2 1 gu4 niga mu Ì-lí-lí-a-šè, igi lugalšè ba-gaz ‘1 fattened ox was slain in the presence of the king because of Ilili(a).’ For transitive ba-gaz ‘he has slain him’; see above, in-ug: NG 41:5. Destruction íb-gul: NRVN 265 = NATN 285 22 nindan gíd iz-zi gul-la, … 4 iz-zi-bi 29 ⅓ šar, á ×uruš 1-a ⅓ šar-ta, ×uruš-bi 88 u4 1-šè, íb-gul, iz-zi sumun é dNè-erigal! iri!-bar-ka ‘22 nindan (ca. 132 m) length (of) a wall destroyed … This wall comprizes 29 ⅓ cubic šar (ca. 527 m3), at ⅓ šar (ca. 6 m3) per man, 88 man days have destroyed it. Old wall of the Nergal-Temple of the outer city.’ ba-gul: TCTI 2, 2714 7 ×išù-su¶5 ba-gul ‘7 pine trees were destroyed’; BPOA 1, 169:1–4 1 má 30;0.0 gur 1-àm ésir ¶ád-bi 22 gú, 2 má 40;0.0 gur 1-àm ésir ¶ád-bi 52 gú, má a-ru-a dNin-MAR.KI-ka, ba-gul, … ‘1 30-Kor-boat, 1st go(?), its dry asphalt amounts to 22 talents; 2 40-Kor-boats, 1st go(?), their dry asphalt amounts to 52 Kor: The boats, votive gifts for goddess Nin-MAR.KI, have been scrapped’; UET 3, 1744:1–2 2 túg du8-a u¶-
x[x], ba-gul šà K[UŠ x] ‘2 felted cloths, moth-e[aten], have been destroyed; among the le[ather-…]’; in-¶ul: UET 3, 1335 6 gu4 GÁNA x-ra, a-šà dUtu, Lugal-du10-ga, nu-bànda gu4-ke4, in-¶ul-a, ka-ga-na, ba-an-gi-in ‘it was confirmed from his (own) mouth, that the cow inspector L. has destroyed 6 oxen in the … field, field of the Sun god.’ –– For ì-¶ulul-¶u-da see above, fn. 98. al-¶ul: AUCT 2, 336 5 ½ gi×4 kù-babbar al-¶ul-a, nam-ra-aka, U[r-b]í-lumki, š[ag]i[na], šu [im]-mi-in-ús! ‘The general sent 5 ½ shekel of destroyed silver, booty from Urbilum’; SAT 2, 1010:1–3 3,07 kuš udu, lá-ì su-ga mu kuš al-¶ul-a, ki PN-ta ‘187 sheep skins,

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replaced deficit because of destroyed skins, from PN.’ (cf. MVN 3, 373; Berens 37rev.:6); ba-¶ul: BPOA 2, 2355 14;2.0 še gur, še-ba SIG7-a, mu 3-kam, mu ×iš kiri6 Gú-dè-na ba-¶ul, ×iškiri6 Øiš-×u10, èn-bi nu-un-tar-ra-šè, Égal-e-si su-su-dam ‘E. will replace 14 Kor 2 bushels of barley, barley rations for … service, because the Gu’edena-garden had been ruined and he had not enquired about the Garden of Ø.’; SNAT 510 3 ×iš túg Ú.KAL, ní×-ba-a bala mu 3-kam, mu kiri6 Ur/-àm-ma, ba-¶ul-a-šè, Lú-di×ir-ra-ke4, su-su-dam ‘L. will replace 3 U.-cloths, received term rations for 3 years, because the palm-garden of U. had been destroyed’; MVN 3, 342 IUr-dEn-líl-lá dam-gàr-ra, dumu Šeš-kal-la, I Íštar-ì-lí, in-ni-ri-a-šè, ba-¶ul, šer7-da-aš ‘In addition to the fact(?) that I. had instigated the merchant U. to lead away the child of Š., it was destroyed: as a crime!’; YOS 4, 198 Ní×-ul-pa-è, ù× dusu ba-¶ul, mu Ur-bí-lumki-ma, Ur-sila-lu¶, dumu Ú-´a!-ti, ki Ur-mes-ta, mu Ur-bílumki ba-¶ul šà-gu4-šè, A-gu-gu ì-dab5, ×ìri ì-¶a-¶a-ša, mu Ki-maški ba-¶ul ‘The corvee man Ni×ul-pa!e was destroyed; Year Š 45. Ur-silalu¶, child of U´ātī; from Urmes, Agugu took him as an ox driver in the year Š 45, the feet having been broken; year Š 46’; YOS 4, 216 2,08 kuša-eden-lá gú-na siki-mú, kaskal BÀD.ANk-šè! r͂e6-a, kaskal BÀD.ANki-ta gur-ra, ba-¶ul ba-ra-zi ‘128 waterskins of the tribute, with coat, which the expedition to Dēr had carried (away), and which the expedition from Dēr had brought back, are ruined. They were withdrawn (from the account)’; see also, e. g., AUCT 1, 683 33 gu4 niga, 18 gu4, kaš-dé-a, u4 Úu-mur-ti ba-¶ul-a ‘33 grain-fattened oxen, 18 oxen, drinking party; when Úumurti had been destroyed’ (cf., among others, YOS 4, 74).

Narratives and narrative royal inscriptions stand between these extremes and show the greatest range of variation. We need to very much be aware of the different levels of speaker’s involvement; see below, appendix 1, for a diachronic documentation of the distribution of the prefixes in question (together with (/i-/ and /a-/) and, in the Isin and OB periods, the beginning of the use of epistemic /¶é-/ to mark what is important for the speaker/writer in the moment of speaking/writing, a function formerly covered by /mu-/ and /-m-/; see further appendix 2 for an analysis of the use of /mu-/ and /-m-ba- …/ prefixes and speaker involvement in an Ur III narrative royal inscription. 4.6.3.2.3. Prefix for subjective spatial relations /ba-/: outside of the speaker’s sphere. Slot 6 The SUBJECTIVE SPATIAL PREFIX nearest to the verb is /ba-/. It is object, event, and thereby patient oriented. Every day texts use /ba-/ abundantly

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for forms translatable as passives.151 With regard to subjective space, /ba-/ marks events as occurring in, or directed to a sphere beyond the speaker’s own sphere.152 The verb form šu ba-an-ti, attested thousands of times, fits this pattern exactly: ‘He/She (let his/her hand touch =) reached out to something which was not his’ = ‘took possession of something.’ It also fits Akkadian t-infixes corresponding to /ba-/-prefixes.153 /ba-/ may also serve as a means for backgrounding, downgrading the speaker’s focus on events secondary to his main line of interest as, e. g., preliminary actions or side effects. It also functions as the default marker, not only for subjective space. The speakers fall back on it, if there is no speaker involvement—be it spatial or modal—or interest in the mode of action. If /ba-/ immediately precedes the directive /-y-/, it results in [bay], written BA- in OS (continued by scribal tradition into later periods), BA-Ain Sargonic and Neo-Sumerian, and BA-E- in OB, if—and this is important—no other morpheme (but the locative /-ni-/)154 follows before the BASE. But with all other following morphemes it becomes [bī], written BÍ-.155 Because of this, all attestations of the prefix written BÍ- occur in ERGATIVE OR ANTIPASSIVE verb forms. 4.6.3.2.4. Prefixes for subjective spatial relations: the speaker’s sphere. Slot 7 The prefix /mu-/ (allomorph /-m-/) marks the speaker’s sphere, the “ventive” with verbs of motion. Discovered in 1907 by F. Thureau-Dangin,156 the function of muwas dubbed “ventive” by B. Landsberger in 1923. 157 Jacobsen (1965:79) defines mu as “mark of the occurrence denoted by the verb on the inside border (.u) of the area of the speech situation (m.) … it adds … implications of emotional involvement of the speaker …” J. Krecher158 brought the notion of ventive onto the agenda of 151

Edzard (2003a:95), expressly noted “a special function of [ba], first attested in Ur III, to denote passive voice.” 152 Cf. Jacobsen 1965:82: “mark of location of the occurrence denoted by the verb inside relevant area, not that of the speech situation.” 153 Poebel 1923, § 598; von Soden 1965. 154 See YOS 4, 55 ki-su7-a ba-a-ni-gi4-gi4 ‘He will make him return (the barley) onto the threshing floor.’ Normally /ba-y-ni/ appears written as mi-ni-; see Postgate 1974:20–26. 155 Postgate 1974:20–26 and M. Civil’s remarks there: p. 20, note 11. 156 Thureau-Dangin 1907b, dicussing the famous document RTC 19. 157 Landsberger 1924. 158 Krecher 1985:133–181.

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the Falkenstein-School, and it is now part of D. O. Edzard’s grammar of 2003159 and of G. Zólyolmi’s of 2005.160 Ch. Woods (2008:150) speaks of “empathy,” a term I find very appropriate. I don’t think we should split up the /mu-/ of the later Third Millennium into two meaningful components (see above, 2.2.3). But otherwise Jacobsen’s description is very much to the point.

After prefixes /a-/, /i-/ it occurs as /-m-/. Events may share the speaker’s empathy and the sphere he marks as not his. Equally /m-/ and /ba-/ can be combined, resulting, e. g., in [mma], [mmi]. Such clusters need the prefixes /a(l)-/, /i-/. May /-m-/ perhaps assimilate to the 3rd person dative: /-m-/ + /-na-, -ne(-a)-/ > [-nna-; -nne(-a)-]?161 The speaker may shift his/her area of interest onto a different person. See, e. g., the reports on the invasion of the ruler of Umma into Lagaš territory: Ean. 63 i 11–15 [na-r͂ú]-`a-bia, lú Ummaki-ke4, mu-kur6, eden Lagaški-šè, mu-gub Ean. 6–7 ii 4–8 [lú Ummaki-ke4], na-r͂ú-a-`bia, ì-`kur6a, eden Lagaški-šè, ì-gub Ent. 28–29 i 13–29 Øìš, énsi Ummaki-ke4, nam inim-ma diridiri-šè, e-a5, na-r͂ú-a-bi, ì-kur6, eden Lagaški-šè, ì-gub “The man of Umma (turned it into something beyond words,) destroyed these stelae; he stepped towards the steppe of Lagaš.”

E!anatum 63 not only moves the ergative closer to the verb—with the prefix /mu-/, the speaker either centers his EMPATHY on the enemy or—

159

Edzard 2003a:103–109. Zólyomi 2005:11–43. 161 We would then not need to assume that the prefix /i-/ “does not occur with ventive indicators except with the 3rd sg. non-person class series” (Edzard 2003a: 111); he dubitatively analysed the chain an-na- as “[a(l)na]” in Edzard 2003b:93. Nor need we assume a special pronominal 3rd. person singular form /-nn-/ for the group of the dimensional prefixes as suggested by Zólyomi 2005:31. But then forms beginning with ba-an-na/ne- would need a different analysis. I noted 1× ba-an-na-šúm (YOS 4, 294:1) and 1× ba-an-na-ab-šúm (NATN 511:16), 9× baan-na-zi (CST 707:5; CTNMC 29:9; Nebraska 44 iii 71–80; iv 126–127; MVN 3, 257:7; MVN 13, 567:8; MVN 14, 331 (above, fn. 79); UCP 9, 251, No. 77:5; UET 3, 1397:1′; 1471:12ff.); 1× ba-an-na-an-zi (NATN 25 i′ 6); 1× ba-an-ne-zi (HLC, pl. 33: HLb 81 vi 6). Should we understand the forms in ba-an-na/ne- (and mu-un-na-: year name IS 15) as spelled (and pronounced) analogously to nu-un-na- etc.? See also TMH NF 1–2, 258:6–8 nu-`ur-raa-gi4-gi4-da mu lugal-bi in-pà ‘He swore not to come back to yousic.’ Or should we rather follow Zólyomi? 160

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more probably—stresses the enemy’s intrusion into the speaker/writer’s own area. The other two use /i-/ (for non-telic events) and thus turn it into background information. 4.6.3.2.5. Prefixes for subjective spatial relations: prefix /-nga-/ including remote events. Slot 8 But before reaching the telicity prefixes another slot needs to be considered, the “CONNECTIVE” /-nga-/ including other, remote events or objects into the speaker’s field of vision and interest. Context forms written in-gaand (-)an-ga(-àm)- suggest its position between /a-/, /i-/ and the /(-)m-/ prefixes.162 4.6.3.3. Prefixes for the mode of action: telicity /a(l)-/ and atelicity /i-/. Slot 9 The prefixes /a(l)-, i-/ occupy the next slot. /i-/ has been considered void of meaning and its existence has been denied by assuming a prosthetic vowel. But it is hard to conceive of the invention of the special graph clusters ì-íb-, ì-im-, ì-in-, a-ab-, a-am-, etc. in Sargonic and Ur III times to render somthing immaterial, if the simple signs would have sufficed, and even more so, seeing these forms restricted to certain morphological conditions.163 The prefixes doubtless help form finite forms neutral to the marking of subjective space. But as they combine with /-m-/ and /-m- + ba- / prefixes there must be more. Of the two, /i-/ will act as default prefix if a marking of subjective space would be seen as not appropriate or if motion or action are of higher importance. This default character of /i-/ may be the reason for its dominance at Lagaš and in non-Nippur Ur III texts and the notion that it has no function. There is much consent that /a(l)-/ focusses on the state resulting from the event related, but less so on /i-/. Yet in the same slot and mutually exclusive, they stand in opposition to each other, and /i-/ marks the contrary of what /a(l)-/ stands for. That is “the notion of action, mobility or 162

Edzard (2003a:124) considers the [a] of [anga] as the result of assimilisation in a-ba an-ga-kal a-ba an-ga-a-da-sá (Šulgi D, refrain), but in “Verbalpräfix” (Edzard 2003b:93, 95) he quotes from the OS refrain of the Keš Hymn Kèški-gim rib-ba lú an-ga-túm ‘could anybody bring forth something greater than Keš?’; see now Wilcke 2006, ll. 54 (p. 230), 99 (p. 233), 122 (p. 234). 163 See Attinger 1993:263ff., § 173 summing up the opinions of Foxvog, Heimpel and Krecher and his critical summary of my critique, as well as Edzard’s remarks in 2003a:110; G. Zólyomi (2005), again, knows of no prefix /i-/ (see below with fn. 173–174).

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becoming,”164 and of duratives as events take place. The pair marks manners of action, TELIC and ATELIC EVENTS. This difference is partly neutralized in OS Lagaš and in the Ur III period outside of Nippur. Th. Jacobsen already noticed the notion of “persistence” in forms with /a-/ prefixes and saw them translated by Akkadian statives, ascribing “transitoriness” to those with /i-/,165 and J. N. Postgate found “that i- places stress on the event or occurrence indicated by the verb” contrasting this with verb forms where this slot is not filled.166 P. Attinger saw /a-/ focalising state, not the process leading to it, and differentiated between passives and verbs of state, verities, clauses of contracts stating brutal facts, and adverbial phrases—stating, too, that the meaning remains often ununderstandable. For /i-/ he finds no meaning but the function to mark a verb as inflected.167 C. Wilcke, quoting Attinger, briefly distinguished for /a-/ the focus on state as result of the event and the description of a process marked by /i-/,168 the latter agreeing with Jacobsen and Postgate. In D. O. Edzard’s view /a-/ and /al-/ “indicate the notion of state (not necessarily passive) or habitualness, as against the notion of action, mobility or becoming”169 and although he thus ex negativo had described the greater part of the functions of /i-/—as far as I see, only the not easily conceivalbe possibility of duratives, especially those of verbs of state (e. g., ‘it happens/ed to be sweet’) is missing from his enumeration—he only said of /i-/ that it served “to indicate ‘finilization and ‘pronominalization’ of the base,”170 he also established /a-/ and /al-/ as allomorphs and quoted an OS attestation of /a-/ before /-nga-/.171 Michalowski saw /i-/ as “neutral” and supposed /a-/ “to mark verbs without agents” in the 3rd millennium and in OB literary texts to be “an allomorph of i-.” He treats /al-/ separately: “forms … are intransitive and appear to correspond to Akkadian inflected adjectives (‘statives’).”172 Finally, G. Zólyomi, who knows of no prefix /i-/,173 differentiated between intransive verbs with /a(l)-/ express-

164

Edzard 2003a:111. Jacobsen 1965:76–77. 166 Postgate 1974:26, note 24. 167 Attinger 1993, §§ 173–174. 168 Wilcke 1996:35. 169 Edzard 2003a:111. 170 Edzard 2003a:110. 171 Edzard 2003b. 172 Michalowski 2004:44–45. 173 G. Zólyomi (2005:31), speaks of a prosthetic [i] before the “pronominal prefixes” he reconstructs as “/jr/, /nn/ oder /nne/” (i. e., the 2nd pers. sing., the 3rd pers. sing. and pl.) in initial position. 165

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Opening Lectures ing state and verbs of action where it means state resulting from previous action.174

Different spellings of the PRECATIVE/AFFIRMATIVE prefix as ¶é- or ¶aand of epistemic ša-, ši- may point at contraction with different TELICITY prefixes following them (see above, 2.3.3 and fn. 60). The PREFIXES OF TELICITY combine freely with the /-m-/ prefixes, but with /ba-/ only when /m-/ is present. TELITITY MARKING needs speaker envolvement. He/she decides whether he/she regards someone as ‘seated’ or as ‘sitting.’ The semantic field of these prefixes lies between subjective space and the moods. 4.6.3.4. “Modal” prefixes. Slot 10 Some of the prefixes at the head of the finite verb, often—cum grano salis—called “modal prefixes,” relate the event to others temporally or otherwise consequentially. The border to modality is nowhere clearly drawn. These prefixes seemingly belong to the same slot as the outright modal prefixes, which allow for a clear cut, morphologicyally defined, differentiation between deontic and epistemic use, in the terminology Miguel Civil introduced into our field.175 4.6.3.4.1. Different kinds of epistemic statements 4.6.3.4.1.1. Indicative, positive and negative The indicative is unmarked or has a /Ø-/ prefix. The prefix /nu-/ indicates its negative counterpart and changes before [ba, bi] to [la, li] (see above 2.3.3 with fn. 55–58). Both occur with both conjugation patterns. 4.6.3.4.1.2. Anteriority: /u-/ (“prospective”) Perfective verb forms beginning with the prefix /u-/ express temporal or conditonal anteriority to other events (“prospective”). No other prefix may precede it. It serves as a polite imperative (‘if you please would …’). Akkadians translated it with imperatives. /u-/ assimilates to following [ba, ni] from the late OS period onwards; see above, fn. 61; assimilation to following [bi] will have taken place at the same time, but is documented first with Gudea.176 A difficult form is

174

Zólyomi 2005:35. Civil 2005. 176 Falkenstein 1949:224f. 175

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a-me-ku5 in NRVN 4:4 which I assume to represent /u-a-m-ba-y-ku5-Ø/, i. e. slots 10-9-7-6-b-Base-a. 4.6.3.4.1.3. Consequential events For prefixes /ša-/, /ši-/, /šu-/ and positive /na-/,177 I draw on an unpublished paper of Annette Zgoll, read 1993 at the Oxford meeting of the Sumerian Grammar Discussion Group and kindly put at my disposal. /ša-/ etc. (see above, 2.3.3 with fn. 59–60) expresses consequences resulting from previously related events, be they warnings (Instructions of Šuruppak), conditional clauses (OS contract clause) or similar sequences. Grammatical and lexical texts translate it with lū. This interpretation agrees with M. Civil’s explanation which he recently published.178 4.6.3.4.1.4. Pointer to upcoming events: epistemic /na-/ In Old and Neo Sumerian Texts, /na-/ directs the listener to a verbatim related direct speech, e. g., an oath or the message of a letter. In OB—mostly narrative—texts it may also direct the audience to events resulting from those marked by /na-/ in the story told. It seems to be the counterpart to /ši-/. 4.6.3.4.1.5. Pointer to upcoming selfpraise: /iri-/ Similar to /na-/ is /iri-/. In OB narrative texts it announces selflaudatory speeches. 4.6.3.4.2. Modal prefixes in the narrower sense Moods come in pairs of positive and negative utterances; their deontic and epistemic character separates along the dividing line of CONJUGATION PATTERNs and ASPECTs/TENSes:

177 D. O. Edzard (2003a:119–120) calls them “affirmative 2” and “affirmative 3.” 178 Civil 2005:38–39; see already Heimpel 1974:44: “Civil states that ši introduces a verbal form which is dependent on a previous sentence just as u introduces a verbal form which is dependent on the following sentence,” referring (p. 48, fn. 25) to “Handout AOS Meeting 1968”: “u: main event follows, ši: main event precedes.”

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4.6.3.4.2.2. Optatives: Wishes for future events: “precative” /¶é-/ and “prohibitive” /na-/ The pair of /¶é-/ || /na-/ with the PRESENT-FUTURE/marû CONJUGATION PATTERN is deontic and forms OPTATIVEs ‘may/shall (not),’ the “PRECATIVE” and “PROHIBITIVE.”179 4.6.3.4.2.3. Assertive: “affirmative” and “conditional”: positive /¶é-/ and negative /bara-/ In the PRETERIT/¶am¢u PATTERN, epistemic /¶é-/ pairs with negative /bara-/; both underline factuality (“affirmative”); the basic optative character of /¶é-/ allows it to form conditional clauses: He may have done … > if he has done … . 4.6.3.4.2.4. Imperative and cohortative IMPERATIVE and COHORTATIVE (or VOLITIVE) differ from the formation patterns of the other moods. Both use the PERFECTIVE (¶am¢u) verb base. The IMPERATIVE suffixes the prefix chain of a corresponding statement; the COHORTATIVE uses the prefix /ga-/ and the PRESENT-FUTURE (ANTIPASSIVE) CONJUGATION PATTERN for transitive verbs. Singular subjects (of intransitive and transitive verbs) stay usually unmarked in the verbal chain; plurals are echoed with /-enden/; with the transitive plural base we find OB ga-na-ab-bé-en ‘we want to say: …’ The cohortative also functions as an ‘affirmative’ for the future, assuring le listener of future actions of the speaker. Negative counterparts to both of them are VETITIVE180 (you must not) and NEGATIVE COHORTATIVE (I must not…; I will not …), BOTH construed with the prefix /bara-/ with IMPERFECTIVE verb bases (marû) and the PRESENT-FUTURE conjugation pattern. 4.6.3.4.2.5. Frustrative Unrealizable wishes (FRUSTRATIVEs) are formed with the prefix /nuš-/, for which we once find a by-form /neš-/: Cohen, M. 1981:94, ll. 36–37 = CT 15, 14: BM 22741; see Kramer 1971:24–25: 179

Note that in A. Falkenstein’s terminology (and in accordance with Latin) is an attempt to prevent something happening, whereas the VETITIVE forbids it and is the negative counterpart of the imperative. Akkadianists use these terms the other way round. 180 See the previous footnote. PROHIBITIVE

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a ×uruš šu-zu nu-uš-bí-in-tuku bar-zu né-eš-mi-in-×ál ildag dBil4-ga-mes šu-zu nu-uš-bí-in-tuku bar-zu né-eš-mi-in-×ál ‘Oh, young man, if only I could hold you by your hand, if only you could be made present bodily! Oh, poplar Gilgameš, if only I could hold you by your hand, if only you could be made present bodily!’ ×iš

A. Speaker’s subjective view of the event 10) “MOODS”: Speaker’s views of event as positive (+) or negative (–), as (a) epistemic or (b) deontic or expressed by prefixes and aspect (plus transitive conjugation pattern) or linked consequentiallly/consecutively (→) to other events (mutually exclusive). consequential/consecutive links || moods proper a 1) epistemic, ¶am¢u (plus preterit pattern) (+) /ù-/ → events following temporal || (+) /Ø-/ (–) /nu-/ indicative (+) /ù-/ → events following conditionlal || (+) /¶é-/ (–) /bara-/ 2nd/3rd pers. affirmative (+) /na-/ → events following consecu./c. || (+) /ga-/ (–) /bara-/ 1st pers. affirmative (+) /ši-/ → events related to before || a 2) epistemic marû (plus present-future pattern): (+) /na-/+verbum dicendi → direct speech || (+) /Ø-/ (–) /nu-/ indicative (+) /iri-/+verbum dicendi → self-praise following || b 1.1) deontic: ¶am¢u (plus preterit pattern) || (+) /ù-/ polite imperative b 1.2) deontic: ¶am¢u (plus present-future pattern) || (+) /ga-/; cohortative || (+) suffixed prefix chain; imperative b 2.1) deontic: marû (plus present-future pattern) || (+) /¶é-/; (–) /na-/ optative/precative || (–) /bara-/ neg. cohortative || (–) /bara-/ neg. imperative || (–) /bara-/ vetitive || (±) /nuš-/ frustrative ––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––– 9) MANNER OF ACTION as seen by speaker (mutually exclusive) ATELIC /(-)i-/ || TELIC /(-)a-/ ––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––– 8) THE SPEAKER’S VIEW OF THE EVENT AS BELONGING WITH OTHER ONES RELATED TO /-nga-/ ––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––– SPATIAL RELATIONS OF THE EVENT (α) SUBJECTIVE SPACE: “CONJUGATIONAL” PREFIXES 7) IN/TOWARDS SPEAKER’S SPHERE /(-)mu-, -m-/ 6) OUTSIDE/OUT OF/AWAY FROM SPEAKER’S SPHERE /(-)ba- / (/bi-/ < / ba-y-/) –––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

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B. Speaker’s objective view of the event (β) OBJECTIVE SPACE: DIMENSIONAL PREFIXES a) person marker obligatory if this is the first dimensional prefix 5) DATIVE /person marker + -a/ (different forms for different persons) 4) COMITATIVE (person marker+) /-da-/ 3.1) TERMINATIVE (person marker+) /-ši-/ || 3.2) ABLATIVE /person marker+ -ta-/, /-ra/ b) always without person marker 2) DIRECTIVE /-e-, -y-/ 1) LOCATIVE /-ni-/ –––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––– (b) NORMAL CONSTRUCTION || ANTIPASSIVE CONSTRUCTION BASE ¶am¢u: ergative person marker || BASE marû: patient marker optional obligatory in ergative constr. || (PRESENT-FUTURE PATTERN) of trans verbs (=PRETERITE PATTERN) || /-Ø-/ with intransitive/passive verbs || BASE ¶am¢u: patient marker optional (no ergative) || (PASSIVE TO ANTIPASSIVE) BASE marû: (intransitive/passive: no ergative || marker) || –––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––– Verb BASE ¶am¢u: perfective marû: imperfective (+ -ed: optional?), antipassive+e –––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––– (a) NORMAL CONSTRUCTION || ANTIPASSIVE ||PASSIVE TO ANTIPASS. Obligatory absolutive p. marker ||Obligatory erg. p. marker || /-Ø-/ (no ergative!) ||(PRESENT-FUT. PATTERN) || ================================================= NOMINALIZATOR: -a || QUOTATION MARKER: -(e)še

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Appendix 1. Distribution of /m-/ and /ba-/ prefixes (and of /i-/ and /a-/) in different kinds of royal inscriptions together with the beginning of the use of the “Affirmative” in non-affirmative, speaker centered function. “CONJUGATION PREFIXES”: PROCLAMATORY ROYAL INSCRIPTIONS Urnanše 24)

/ba-y-/ /mu-/

maš bé-pà mu-r͂ú (5×), mu-dun, gú ×iš mu-×ál, mu-tu, a mu-na-x

34)

/ba-y-/ /mu-/

bé-kú mu-r͂ú (14×), mu-dun, gú ×iš mu-×ál, mu-tu

51)

/mu-/

mu-r͂ú (14×), mu-dab5 (7×), mu-dub (2×), mu-dun (3×), mu-sè, mu-tu (8×), mu-x e-šè-×en GIØ4.KÁR

/i-/

E!anatum 2)

/ba-y-/ /mu-/

/i-/ /a-/

GIØ4.KÁR

bé-sè (7×), bé-ge4 (2×) mu-na-r͂ú (3×), mu-ni-r͂ú, mu-dub (3×), mu-na-dun, mu-gaz, [su¶uš]-bi mu-[n]a-gi, šu-na mu-ni-gi4, mu-gub-ba, mu-¶a-lam, mu-¶ul, sa×-šè mu-ni-rig7, mu-na-sa4, mu-na-ta-šúm, mu-na-ús, mu-ug7 sa× e-da-sàg (3×), ì-zi-ga-a ki an-na-á×-×á-ni

Enanatum I 33)

/mu-/ /a-/



mu-na-r͂ú (3×), mu-na-ni-r͂ú, mu-ni-r͂ú, ki-bi mu-na-gi4, mušè-×ar-ra-a, mu-na-šúm-ma-a, šu mu-na-ni-tag, mu-ni-túm ki an-na-á×-×a-ni

Gudea Statue A /mu-/ /i-/

mu-na-r͂ú, mu-na-dím (2×), mu-na-ni-ku4 (2×), mu-na-sa4, musù, mu-tu im-ta-e11, lú … in-r͂ú-a

“CONJUGATION PREFIXES”: NARRATIVE ROYAL INSCRIPTIONS E!annatum 6–7)

/ba-/ /ba-y-/ /mu-/ /i-/ /i-m-ba-/

ba-ri-ri, ba-sa4 (3×) na bí-r͂ú-a (2×), nu-bí-díb, ki-bi bí-ge4 mu-kur6, šu-na mu-ni-ge4 ì-gub, ì-kur6, ki e-na-sur-ra e-ma-×en, e-ma-da¶

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Opening Lectures /ba-/ /ba-y-/ /mu-/ /i-/ /ba-y-ni-/

63)

Ø na bí-r͂ú-a, ¶a-bí-zi-zi mu-gub, mu-kur6, A mu-bala-e-a e-na-á×, e-¶a-lam, e-da-ru mi-[ni-sa4]

Enanatum I 29)

/ba-/ /ba-y-/ /mu-/ /i-/ /i-m-ba-/ /i-m-ba-y-/

a-ba-né-éš ba-gub bí-du11 šu-ta mu-na-ta-ru-a, mu-ni-taka4 ì-kú-e, ì-su-su, e-sar-sar [e-m]a-¶u×, e-ma-bala ì-mi-du11, ì-mi-si-a, ì-mi-ús

Enmetena 28–29 /ba-/ /ba-y-/ /mu-/ /i-/

/i-m-ba-/ /i-m-ba-y-/ /a-m-/

ba-ku4, ki ba-ni-ús ki-bi bí-ge4, na bí-r͂ú, bé-ra, bí-šu4 ki-bi mu-na-ge4, na4-a mu-na-ni-r͂ú, mu-šè-×en-na-àm, mu-gaz, (field) mu-taka4 e-a5 (2×), e-da-a5, íb-ta-ni-è, e-gaz, e-×en, ì-gub (2×), ì-gul-gul, ì-kú, ì-kur6, ì-kur6-kur6, ki e-da-sur, e-da-lá, GIØ4.KÁR ì-sè, ì-su, ki e-ne-sur, (donkeys) e-šè-taka4, e-da-taka4-taka4 e-ma-ta-bala, e-ma-¶u×, šu e-ma-ti ì-mi-du11, ì-mi-dub am6-ta-bala-e-da (/ an-ta bala-e-da?), ki an-na-á×-×á-ni

“CONJUGATION PREFIXES”: PROCLAMATORY-NARRATIVE ROYAL INSCRIPTIONS Gudea Statue B /ba-/ /ba-y-/ /mu-/

/-m-ba-ni/ /-m-ba-y-/ /ba-y-ni/

la-ba-àr, ba-ta-an-dab5-ba-a, ba-×á-×á (2×), ba-×ál-la-àm, ¶a-ba-gub, ba-ni-íb-lá-a, ba-ni-pà-da-a, la-ba-sàg (2×) lú … ba-a-gi4-gi4-a, bí-r͂ú, nu-bí-du11, pa bí-è, bí-íb-gi4-gi4-a, máš-e bí-pà, bí-íb-ta6-ta6-a mu-a5-a5 (2×), mu-ni-ba-al, na-mu-r͂ú, mu-r͂ú-a, mu-na-r͂ú (8×), mu-na-r͂ú-a (2×), mu-na-ni-r͂ú (2×), mu-ni-r͂ú, mu-dím (2×), mu-na-dím (4×), mu-na-dím-dím, zà mu-da-DU-àm, mu-naDU-a-ni, ur5 mu-du8, pa mu-na-è, ¶a-mu-na-ta-è, mu-×ál-àm, mu-×ar, mu-na-×ar (3×), nu-mu-na-×ar, ki-bi mu-na-gi4, muna-gub-gub?, mu-na-ni-gur, mu-na-ni-ku4 (2×), šu-šu mu-lu¶, zà-ba mu-da-nú-àm, mu-da-sá-àm, mu-na-sa4, ×ištukul mu-sàg, mu mu-sar, ×ál mu-na-taka4, mu-tu nu-ma-ni-ra, nam-mi-gul-e mi-ni-gùn, ì-bí-la-ba mi-ni-ku4, mi-ni-si-si, mi-ni-túm,

C. Wilcke, Sumerian: What We Know and What We Want to Know /i-/ /(i-)m(-b)-/ /i-m-ba/ /i-m-ba-y/

65

lú .. šu ì-íb-bala-e-a (2×), lú .. in-r͂ú-a (2×), lú .. íb-KÚR-a, lú .. íb-zi-re-a igi-zi im-ši-bar-ra, im-ta-e11 (11×), im-ta-ab-è-a, ¶é-em-ta-×ar, ¶é-em-ši-gub, ¶é-em-ta-tuš im-ma-dab5, im-ma-ta-lá, èn im-ma-ši-tar gi16-sa im-mi-a5, ¶é-mi-×ál, im-mi-gi4, šu-zi im-mi-×ar, im-mi-si-si

Šū-Su!en Stele 3 /ba-/ /ba-y-/

/mu-/

/ba-y-ni/ /i-/ /i-m-ba/

/i-m-ba-ay/ Other conjugated verb forms

zi-bi ba-ab-de6-a, la-ba-ta-è, sá ba-ni-in-du11-ga-a, sá ba-ni-indu11-ga, ba-ni-zi, umuš ba-ne-×ál?, nam ¶a-ba-an-da-[ku5-r͂]e6-ne GIØ4.KÁR bí-in-sè-sè, gú gurx(ŠE.KÍØ) bí-in-du11, šu si-ga bí-indu11, b[í-…], šix(ŠID) bí-in-`gi4a, bí-in-lá-lá, šu bí-íb-[ùr]-ùr-a, [bí]-íb-sar-re-a mu-ru, mu-na-an-šúm-ma-a, gaba mu-na-da-ri-eš, mu-ug7-ug7, numun-e-eš mu-×ar-×ar, zar-re-eš mu-du8-du8, mu-da-an-gurre-ša, mu-gul-gul, mu-u[n-la-¶a], mu-dím, a mu-na-ru še29-a mi-ni-in-dab5-dab5, še29-a mi-ni-in-dab5-dab5-ba-na, mini-in-×ar, mi-ni-in-si, mi-ni-in-gaz á [íb-ši-á]×-×e26-a, íb-zé-re-a in-pà, [d]ùl?-ni in-RU (v 31) ` im-ma-da-è-eša, im-ma-ta-šub-bu-[š]a-a, igi im-[ma]-an-du8du8, [×iš] i[m-ma]-`nia-in-tag, im-ma-ta-an-×ar im-mi-in-sè, sa×-šè im-mi-in-rig7, im-mi-in-a5, im-mi-in-pà-da, zà-ba im-mi-in-`gub?/ús?a nu-`ÙR.ÙRa-a (vi 6), ¶é-a (vii 16)

Lipit-Eštar d

2)

Li-pí-it-Éštar … šà-ge DU-a dInana-me-en, u4 ní× si-sá, ki-en-gi ki-uri-a, i-ni-in-×ar-[ra-a], É-me-te-nam-lugal-[la], é ki-tuš gu-la-×u10, mu-r͂ú ‘I, Lipit-Eštar, …, the chosen one of Inana, did build my great residence, the “House-appropriate-for-Kingship,” after I! established justice in Sumer and Akkad.’

5)

d Li-pí-it-Éštar … šà-ge DU-a dInana-me-en, u4 ní× si-sá, ki-en-gi ki-uri, i-ni-in-×ar-[ra-a], inim du11-ga, dEn-líl, dNanna-ta, Uri5ki ki-bi ¶é-bí-gi4, ¶i-ri-tum-bi, ¶u-mu-ba-al ‘I, Lipit-Eštar, the chosen one of Inana, did restore Ur on Enlil’s and Nanna’s command, after I! had established the justice of Sumer and Akkad,’ and I did dig its moat.’

Sîn-iddinam 2 (RIME 4, pp. 158–160) Sîn-i-din-na-am … lugal É-babbar é dUtu-ke4, mu-un-dù-a, ×iš-¶ur é di×ir-ree-ne, ki-bi-šè bí-gi4-a-me-en, u4 An-né dEn-líl dNanna dUtu-bi, bala du10 ní× si-sá … ×á-ra sa×-e-eš-e mani-in-rig7-eš-a, d

66

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… iriki ma-da-×u10-šè, a du10 ×á-×á-dè … pa-è ma¶ kè-dè, An-ra dEn-líl-ra, KA in-sa6-sa6, a-ra-zu gi-na-×u10-šè, ¶u-mu-ši-in-še-ge-eš-a, ídIdigna ba-al-la-da … inim nukúr-ru-bi-a, á-bi ¶u-mu-da-an-á×-eš, u4-ba … ídIdigna, i7 ¶é-×ál-la dUtu-ke4 … gal-bi ¶é-em-mi-ba-al, ki-sur-ra in-dub libir?!-×u10-šè, ka-bi um-mi-tum4, a-gam-ma-bi-šè, si gal ¶é-em-mi-sá, a da-rí, ¶é-×ál múš nu-túm-mu, Larsaki kalam-ma-×u10-šè, ¶é-em-mi-×ar, u4 ídIdigna i7-gu-la, mu-ba-al-la-a, á lú-1-e … ur5-gim šu ¶a-ba-an-ti, lú á lá, lú á da¶, ba-ra-bí-tuku, usu ma-da-×u10-ta, kí×-bi ¶é-em-mi-til, inim ka-aš-bar di×ir-re-e-ne ta, ídIdigna i7-da×al-la, ki-bi-šè ¶é-em-mi-gi4, u4 ul du-rí-šè, mu-×u10 ¶é-em-mi-gub ‘I, Sîn-iddinam, the king who built Utu’s temple Ebabbar, and restored the rules of the houses of the gods, prayed to An and Enlil, when An, Enlil, Nanna and Utu had given to me as a gift a pleasent time of office, justice and …, in order to … and to establish for my city and land sweet water, to …, and to make … most famous. When they did consent to my faithful prayer, they did order me with their unchangable word, that the Tigris be excavated, that … and that …. Then … I did greatly excavate the Tigris, Utu’s river of abundance and, after I extended its intake unto my old border dikes, I did let it flow greatly straight into the (waters) of the swamps. I did establish everlasting water, neverending abundance for Larsa and my land. When I excavated the great river Tigris, each man did receive as wages of … in this way. Nobody did receive lower or additional wages. I did finish this labour with my workforce of the land. According to the express decision of the gods, I did restore the vast river Tigris. I did establish my name into faraway everlasting times.’

Appendix 2. The use of prefixes for subjective space in a Neo-Sumerian royal inscription Šū-Su!en 3, inscription on a statue erected in Nippur (Old Babylonian copy) RIME 3, pp. 301–306 (without captions and subscript: vii 17 – viii 10). (fat print translates finite verbs with prefix /mu-/ (mu-), double underlining those with /i-m-ba-, i-m-ba-y/ (im-ma-, im-mi-), simple underlining those with prefixes /ba-, ba-y-, ba-y-ni-/ (ba-, bí-, mi-ni-). For the verb forms see above, Appendix 1.) i1

For his Lord Enlil, king of all lands— (When) to Šu-Su!en, named by An, loved by Enlil, the king—Enlil has chosen him i 10 in his heart as shepherd of ‘our country’ and of the ‘four corners and edges under the sky’—mighty king, king of Ur, king of the ‘four corners and edges under the sky,’ when Enlil (did give to him) life, long lasting vitality, i 20 ti-

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ara and crown, a scepter of faraway days, a royal throne with firm foundations, years of abundance, the mace ‘The-deluge-does-bear-great-fear,’ the a!ankara-weapon ‘Battle-force-force-of-the-militant,’ i 30 its awe inspiring aura extended to the skies, its noise spread out over the rebellious lands, from the other side of the lower sea to the upper sea, [from] the river […] the people, the lords and rulers of […], ii 1 great mountain ranges, foreign countries, faraway places bowing down to his feet,—(when) Enlil, the Lord, to whose word ii 10 everyone is attentive, did give this to Šū-Su!en, the king chosen in his pure heart, ii 14 then Šimaški, all lands of Zabšali, having arisen from the border of Anšan to the upper sea ii 20 like locusts, Nibulmat, [..].., Sigriš, Alumidatim, Garta, Aza¶ar, Bulma, Nušušmar, NušgaNELUM, ii 30 Zizirtum, Ara¶ir, Šatilu, Tirmi!um and [… had joined forces and] together came out there and ii 40 [all] their [lords and rulers] did together confront him in the battle and combat with them. iii 2 Šū-Su!en, mighty king, king of Ur, king of the ‘four corners and edges under the skye’ iii 10 inflicted defeat upon them, mowed down there the necks of their prime warriors, weakened their runners. He did kill strong and weak concertedly, did lay down righteous and wicked heads as seeds, iii 20 did pile up the corpses of the people as shocks. He put in fetters all their lords and rulers. [He added] all the great princes of the lands of Zabšali, all the princes of the different cities, who did turn away from him in the battle, iii 30 to [all the lords and rulers] he had put in fetters and iv 1 le[ad them to Nippur] before Enlil and [Ninlil]. The me[n], who had managed to drop out of the grip of the battle and had birdlike saved their lives to their different cities, did not escape from his hands. Against their different cities iv 10 he himself screeched [like] the Anzu and laid all their well founded cities and settlements into mounds of ruins and did destroy their walls. He opened up the eyes of the men of these different cities whom he had overtaken and put them as personnel into the gardens of Enl[il] iv 20 and Ninlil and into the gardens of all great gods. And he gave as a present the female slaves [of these] different cities whom he had overtaken to the weaving mills of Enlil and Ninlil iv 30 and of all great gods. He `offereda their cattle, small cattle and animals, [which] he did [lead here], in the temple of Enlil v 1 [and Ninli]l and i[n the temples of all great gods]. He filled [go]ld and silver, many [things] fashioned, into great sacks. He loaded v 13 copper and tin, bronze, the things fashioned from it, onto pack asses and made them treasure of the temple of Enlil and Ninlil and of the temples of all great gods. v 24 Šū-Su!en, king, named by An, given supreme power by Enlil, v 35 established his [like]ness at the lateral [ro]cks there in Bulma in the land of Šimaški, so that in the future the praise of v 30 this may not leave (lit.: ‘fall out of’) the mouth and be handed down. He `killed? a its female and male people, those alive and bearing names, with the mace. vi 1 ….where? he has found? it, the socle …, his strength and might, which in future days will not be erased?, he [put] beside it. vi 11 Šū-Su!en, [ki]ng and shepherd of the black headed, levied the people of Úa[bura] and Mardaman and made them knowledgeable. He transplanted them to mine gold an silver.

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Then did Šū-Su!en, mighty king, king of Ur, king of the ‘four corners and edges under the skye’ fashion the gold of the lands of Šimaški, his booty, into a likeness of himself and did dedicate it for his life to his lord Enlil. vi 33

Whoever [or]ders a misdeed against it, vii 1 that one erase its inscription, write his own name onto it, break my fashioned work—may Enlil, king of all lands, and Ninlil, queen of the gods, curse him! May Ninurta, mighty warrior of Enlil, be the commissioner for it.

Conclusion The prefix /mu-/ (11× + 10 /-m-/ prefixes) is as frequent as the ones in /ba-, ba-y-, ba-y-ni-/. The author uses /mu-/ for events of central importance for the main participant and for those affecting himself (like the awe inspiring radiance of the weapon i 26) and for a ventive (iv 33). Of central and lasting importance are: Enlil bestowing onto ŠS regalia, weapons, power and the rule over the whole world (ii 13) and, corresponding to it, ŠS fashioning of the statue (vi 28) and dedicating it to Enlil (vi 32); then the outcome of the battle (iii 16, 18, 20) culminating in the destruction of the city walls (iv 14), not the single actions leading up to these results—dramatic as they may be. Central is the turning point in the battle, the enemy leaders fleeing from the victorious ŠS (iii 29). These events are not only central for the narrative; they are relevant for the speaker’s/writer’s present and future and that of his central figure. It would, I think, not be right to speak here of foregrounding these events, because two of them are reported in subordinated sentences (ii 13, iii 29). The relevance of these events firmly anchors them in the field of the speaker; those no longer relevant (by default or expressly marked) don’t belong to it. Looking at the events carrying a mixed marking (/-m-ba- …/), we see the enemy moving out in a remote area towards the speaker’s field of interest (ii 40); then escaping enemies (iv 3–4)—escape is coming out of danger; this seems to be a ventive with shifted focus but marked as happening outside of the speaker’s sphere of interest. The macabre pun, blinding as eye opening (i 17), describes what happens at home. The speaker’s party gets themselves the eyes of the enemies which seems to justify the ventive. But it happens to the others who don’t belong to his field. And bringing in the booty to its different destinations calls for a ventive and, as it again relates to the enemy group, for the prefix /ba-/, too.

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If we look at the two shorter Lipit-Eštar inscriptions and at the somewhat later and also longer one of Sîn-iddinam, we see the marking of events of actual relevance shifting from /mu-/ (and /-m-/ prefixes in general) to “affirmatives,” i. e., seemingly to the area of mood, i. e., to subjective epistemic observations. The same happens in OB Akkadian at about the same time; see Cohen, E. 1999. It turns up in Assyria in Inscriptions of Salmanassar I and Tukulti-Ninurta I; see Wilcke 2010. Abbreviations Ean. En. I Ent. Ukg. Urn. h

Royal inscription of E-anatum (quoted after CIRPL) Royal inscription of En-anatum I (quoted after CIRPL) Royal inscription of Enmetena (quoted after CIRPL) Royal inscription of Irikagina (quoted after CIRPL) Royal inscription of Urnanše (quoted after CIRPL)

= human, person, n.h = not human, not a person

OA OAkk. OB OB Lú A OS Ur III

Old Assyrian Old Akkadian Old Babylonian a lexical Series, published in MSL 12 Old Sumerian Third Dynasty of Ur

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Molina, M. Neo-Sumerian Letter-Orders in the British Museum. I. Molina, M. et al. (eds.). Arbor Scientiae. Fs. M. del Olmo Lete (AuOr 17–18). Sabadell. Pp. 215–228. Owen, D. I. A Unique Late Sargonic River Ordeal in the John Frederick Lewis Collection. Leichty, E. et al. (eds.). A Scientific Humanist: Studies in the Memory of Abraham Sachs (OPSNKF 9). Philadelphia. Pp. 305–311. Pettinato, G. L’uomo comminciò a scrivere. Iscrizioni cuneiformi della collezione Michail. Milano. Pettinato, G.; Waetzoldt, H. Aggiunte al Corpus di Lettere Amministrativi della Terza Dinastia di Ur. OrAnt 7: 165–179, pl. xxix. Poebel, A. Grundzüge der sumerischen Grammatik (Rostocker Orientalistische Studien 1). Rostock. Poebel, A. The Sumerian Prefix Forms e- and i- in the Time of the Earlier Princes of Lagaš (AS 2). Chicago. Pomponio, F. et al. (eds.). Tavolette cuneiformi di varia Provenienza delle collezioni della Banca d’Italia. Roma. Postgate, N. Two Points of Grammar in Gudea. JCS 26: 16–54. al-Rawi, F. Two Old Akkadian Letters concerning the Office of kala’um and nārum. ZA 82:180–185. Rubio, G. The Orthography of the Sumerian Literary Texts from the Ur III Period. Black–Zólyomi (eds.) 2005. Pp. 203–225. Sallaberger, W. Der kultische Kalender der Ur III-Zeit (UAVA 7/1). Berlin. Sallaberger, W. Textformular und Syntax in sumerischen Verwaltungstexten. Black–Zólyomi (eds.) 2005. Pp. 249–277. Sallaberger, W. ‘bringen’ im Sumerischen. Rollinger, R. (ed.). Von Sumer bis Homer. Fs. M. Schretter (AOAT 325). Münster. Pp. 557–576. Scholtz, R. Die Stuktur der sumerischen engeren Verbalpräfixe (Konjugationspräfixe) speziell dargelegt an der I. und II. Form (E- und MU-Konjugation). 1. Hälfte (MVÄG 39/2). Leipzig. Schretter, M. Emesal-Studien (Innsbrucker Studien zur Sprachwissenschaft. Sonderheft 69). Innsbruck. Schulze, W.; Sallaberger, W. Grammatische Relationen im Sumerischen. ZA 97:163–214. Selz, G. Die altsumerischen Wirtschaftsurkunden der Eremitage zu Leningrad. Altsumerische Verwaltungstexte aus Lagaš. Teil I (FAOS 15/1). Wiesbaden–Stuttgart. Sigrist, M. Le travail des cuirs et peaux à Umma sous la dynastie d’Ur III. JCS 33:141–190.

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Sollberger 1956 Sollberger 1966 Steible 1982 Steinkeller 1979 Steinkeller 1983 Steinkeller 1989 Steinkeller 1992 Steinkeller 2001 Thomsen 1984; 32001

Thureau-Dangin 1907a Thureau-Dangin 1907b van Dijk–Geller 2003

Westenholz 1991 Wilcke 1968 Wilcke 1969a Wilcke 1969b Wilcke 1974

Wilcke 1974–1977 Wilcke 1975

Opening Lectures von Soden, W. Das akkadische t-Perfekt in Haupt- und Nebensätzen und sumerische Verbalformen mit den Präfixen ba-, imma- und ù-. Güterbock, H. G.; Jacobsen, Th. (eds.). Studies in Honor of Benno Landsberger on His SeventyFifth Birthday, April 21, 1965 (AS 16). Chicago. Pp. 103–110. Sollberger, E. Corpus des inscriptions “royales” présargoniques de Lagaš. Genève. Sollberger, E. The Business and Administrative Correspondence under the Kings of Ur (TCS 1). Locust Valley. Steible, H. Die altsumerischen Bau und Weihinschriften (FAOS 5/I–II). Wiesbaden. Steinkeller, P. Notes on Plural Verbs. Or 48:54–67, Steinkeller, P. Review of H. Limet, Textes Sumériens de la IIIe Dynastie d’Ur. Bruxelles, 1976. JCS 35:244–250. Steinkeller, P. Sale Documents of the Ur III Period (FAOS 17). Wiesbaden. Steinkeller, P. Third-Millennium Legal and Administrative Texts in the Iraq Museum, Baghdad (MC 4). Winona Lake. Steinkeller, P. New Light on the Hydrology and the Topology of Southern Babylonia. ZA 91:22–84. Thomsen, M. L. The Sumerian Language. An Introduction to Its History and Its Grammatical Structure (Mesopotamia 10). Copenhagen. Thureau-Dangin, F. Die sumerischen und akkadischen Königsinschriften (VAB 1/1). Leipzig. Thureau-Dangin, F. Sur les préfixes du verbe sumérien. ZA 20:380–404. van Dijk, J. J. A.; Geller, M. Ur III Incantations from the Frau Professor Hilprecht-Collection, Jena (TMH NF 6). Wiesbaden. Westenholz, Aa. The Phoneme /o/ in Akkadian. ZA 81: 10–19. Wilcke, C. Das modale Adverb i-gi4-in-zu im Sumerischen. JNES 27:229–242. Wilcke, C. ku-li. ZA 59:65–99. Wilcke, C. Das Lugalbandaepos. Wiesbaden. Wilcke, C. Politische Oposition nach sumerischen Quellen: Der Konflikt zwischen König und Ratsversammlung. Literaturwerke als politische Tendenzschriften. Finet, A. (ed.). La Voix de l’opposition en Mésopotamie. Bruxelles. Pp. 37–65. Wilcke, C. Die Keilschrifttexte der Sammlung Böllinger. AfO 25:84–94. Wilcke, C. Formale Gesichtspunkte in der Sumerischen Literatur. Lieberman, St. (ed.). Sumerological Studies in Honor of Thorkild Jacobsen on his Seventieth Birthday, June 7, 1974 (AS 20). Chicago. Pp. 205–316.

C. Wilcke, Sumerian: What We Know and What We Want to Know Wilcke 1985

Wilcke 1988

Wilcke 1990

Wilcke 1991 Wilcke 1993

Wilcke 1996 Wilcke 1997 Wilcke 1999a

Wilcke 1999b

Wilcke 2000

Wilcke 2002

Wilcke 2003 Wilcke 2005

Wilcke 2006

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Wilcke, C. Familiengründung im Alten Babylonien. Müller, E. W. (ed.). Geschlechtsreife und Legitimation zur Zeugung. Freiburg–München. Pp. 213–317. Wilcke, C. Anmerkungen zum Konjugationspräfix /i/und zur These vom silbischen Charakter der sumerischen Morpheme anhand neusumerischer Verbalformen beginnend mit ì-íb-, ì-im- und ì-in-. ZA 78:1–49. Wilcke, C. Orthographie, Grammatik und literarische Form: Beobachtungen zu der Vaseninschrift Lugalzaggesis (SAKI 152–156). Abusch, Tz. et al. (eds.). Lingering over Words: Studies in Honor of W. L. Moran (HSS 37). Atlanta. Pp. 455–504. Wilcke, C. Die Lesung von ÁŠ-da = kiššātum. NABU 1991/16. Wilcke, C. Politik im Spiegel der Literatur, Literatur als Mittel der Politik im älteren Babylonien. Raaflaub, K. (ed.). Anfänge politischen Denkens in der Antike (Schriften des Historischen Kollegs 24). München. Pp. 29–75. Wilcke, C. Neue Rechtsurkunden der Altsumerischen Zeit. ZA 86:1–67. Wilcke, C. Amar-girids Revolte gegen Narām-Su!en. ZA 87:11–32. Wilcke, C. Flurschäden, verursacht durch Hochwasser, Unwetter, Militär, Tiere und schuldhaftes Verhalten zur Zeit der III. Dynastie von Ur. Klengel, H.; Renger, J. (eds.). Landwirtschaft im Alten Orient (BBVO 18). Berlin. Pp. 301–339 (because of uncounted misprints only to be used in combination with “Korrekturen zu ‘Flurschäden’,” in NABU 1999/70). Wilcke, C. Neusumerische Merkwürdigkeiten. Böck, B. et al. (eds.). Munuscula Mesopotamica: Fs. J. Renger (AOAT 267). Münster. Pp. 623–638. Wilcke, C. Wer las und schrieb in Babylonien und Assyrien. Überlegungen zur Literalität im Alten Zweistromland (SBAW 2000/6). München. Wilcke, C. Der Kodex Urnamma (CU): Versuch einer Rekonstruktion. Abusch, Tz. (ed.). Riches Hidden in Secret Places. Ancient Near Eastern Studies in Memory of Thorkild Jacobsen. Winona Lake. Pp. 291–333. Wilcke, C. Early Ancient Near Eastern Law. A History of Its Beginnings (SBAW 2003/2). München. Wilcke, C. The Verb si–sá: Diachronic List of Datable Occurrences according to the Number of Participants to the Action. Black–Zólyomi (eds.) 2005. Pp. 279–301. Wilcke, C. Die Hymne auf das Heiligtum Keš: Zu Struktur und Gattung einer altsumerischen Dichtung und zu ihrer Literaturtheorie. Michalowski, P.; Veldhuis, N. (eds.). Ap-

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Woods 2008

Yoshikawa 1974 Yoshikawa 1977 Yoshikawa 1992 Yoshikawa 1993 Zólyomi 2005

Opening Lectures proaches to Sumerian Literature. Studies in Honour of Stip (H. L. J. Vanstiphout) (CM 35). Leiden–Boston. Pp. 201–237. Wilcke, C. Early Ancient Near Eastern Law. A History of Its Beginnings (rev. ed.). Winona Lake. Wilcke, C. Die Inschrift “Tukultī-Ninurta I 1”. TukultīNinurtas I. von Assyrien Feldzug gegen Gutäer und andere, nordöstliche und nordwestliche Feinde und der erste Bericht über den Bau seines neuen Palastes. Fincke, J. C. (ed.). Festschrift für Gernot Wilhelm. Dresden. Pp. 411–446. Wilhelm, G. Gedanken zur Frühgeschichte der Hurriter und zum hurritisch-urartäischen Sprachvergleich. Haas, V. (ed.). Hurriter und Hurritisch (Xenia 21). Konstanz. Pp. 43–67. Woods, Ch. The Grammar of Perspective: The Sumerian Conjugation Prefixes as a System of Voice (CM 32). Leiden– Boston. Yoshikava, M. The Marû-Conjugation in the Sumerian Verbal System. Or NS 43:17–39 (= 1993:31–56). Yoshikava, M. On the Verbal Prefix Chains ì-ín-, ì-iband ì-im-. JCS 29:223–236 (= 1993:184–198). Yoshikava, M. A Sumerian Genitival Construction in Terms of “Status Constructus.” ASJ 14:403–406. Yoshikava, M. Studies in the Sumerian Verbal System (ASJ Sup 1). Hiroshima. Zólyomi, G. Sumerisch. Streck, M. P. (ed.). Sprachen des Alten Orients. Darmstadt. Pp. 11–43.

Prä-Akkadisch Die Vorläufer der “Sprache von Akkade” in der frühdynastischen Zeit

Walter Sommerfeld Universität Marburg

Die “Sprache von Akkade” Zu den zahlreichen Innovationen, die Sargon (konventionell 2334–2279 v. Chr.) und die nachfolgenden Herrscher von Akkade in ihrem Imperium etablierten, gehört die Einführung ihrer Sprache – für offizielle Inschriften ebenso wie für die Kommunikation und für Verwaltungszwecke – samt einer normierten Schrift sowie auch eines weitgehend standardisierten Syllabars.1 Überall, wo Vertreter der zentralen Verwaltung fungieren, kommen diese zum Einsatz – aus pragmatischen Gründen, aber wohl ebenso wegen ihres Prestigecharakters. Damit war auch die Grundlage geschaffen für eine beträchtlich ausgedehnte Anwendung dieses Schriftsystems, das für die Aufzeichnung einer vielfältigen Textproduktion zum Einsatz kam, die weit über den offiziellen Kontext hinausging. Der Name für diese Sprache wurde unmittelbar von Akkade abgeleitet; die Sumerer nannten sie eme Uriki ‘die Sprache von Akkade’, womit in der Eigenbezeichnung ein schlichtes Akkadûm (< *Akkad(e)-ī-um) ‘das sich auf Akkade Beziehende, von Akkade, das Akkadische’ korrespondierte.2 Diese ursprünglich also sehr spezifische, von dem konkreten, exakt lokalisierbaren Toponym hergeleitete Benennung erhielt dann in der Folgezeit eine stark ausgeweitete Bedeutung für eine ostsemitische Sprache, die im Alten Orient regional weit verbreitet und dialektal vielfältig gegliedert war, die sich aber mit ihren distinktiven Merkmalen eindeutig von einer Reihe anderer abhob. Diese “Sprache von Akkade” steht jedoch nicht am Anfang der semitischen Schriftquellen des 3. Jahrtausends im Vorderen Orient, sondern

1

Vgl. Sommerfeld 1999:1–4. Zu Einzelheiten s. Kraus 1970, bes. 25ff.; Sjöberg 1975 passim (Examenstext A); s. noch CAD L 213f.; MSL SS 1, 24:31 (eme Uri = ak-ka-dum). 2

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hat um Jahrhunderte ältere Vorläufer, deren Darstellung im Mittelpunkt des vorliegenden Beitrags steht. Entwicklung und Stand der Forschung Für lange Zeit wurde die gesamte ostsemitische Überlieferung in den Keilschrifttexten des 3. Jahrtausends v. Chr. zusammengefaßt als “Altakkadisch” bzw. “Old Akkadian” bezeichnet und als einheitlicher Dialekt behandelt.3 Die unentbehrlichen Grundlagen für die Erforschung dieser Sprachstufe schuf Gelb in seinen Pionierarbeiten, in denen er eine systematische Abhandlung von Schriftlehre, Grammatik und Lexikon zu diesem gesamten frühen Textkorpus vorlegte: Old Akkadian Writing and Grammar (MAD 2, 1952; 2nd edition, revised and enlarged, 1961); Glossary of Old Akkadian (MAD 3, 1957). Gelb bezeichnete mit “Old Akkadian” die Sprachzeugnisse des Akkadischen von den ältesten Perioden der mesopotamischen Geschichte bis zum Ende der Ur III-Zeit, unterschied aber bereits systematisch zwischen drei voneinander abzusetzenden Sprachstufen (MAD 2², p. 1): “From the linguistic and epigraphic points of view Old Akkadian can be subdivided into three periods: 1. The Pre-Sargonic Period, from the oldest times down to Lugalzagesi. 2. The Sargonic Period, including the period of the kings of the Akkad Dynasty. 3. The Ur III Period, including the period from the end of the Akkad Dynasty to the end of the Ur III Dynasty.”

Die Analyse der diachron zu verzeichnenden Unterschiede spielt allerdings in diesen Arbeiten noch eine vergleichsweise untergeordnete Rolle. Gelb konzentrierte sich auf die am besten dokumentierte Sprachstufe, nämlich diejenige der Akkade-Zeit, und zog das frühere und spätere Material nur additiv zum Vergleich heran, wobei er seine Beobachtungen lediglich okkasionell darstellte, aber nicht systematisch ausarbeitete und aus ihnen keine grundlegenden Schlußfolgerungen für die Dialektgliederung zog. In einer anschließenden Monographie suchte Gelb diese frühe Stufe des Akkadischen sprachwissenschaftlich zu systematisieren, wobei er den

3 So beispielsweise in den Referenzwerken The Assyrian Dictionary of the University of Chicago (1956—); W. von Soden, Akkadisches Handwörterbuch (1959– 1981); Grundriss der akkadischen Grammatik (1952; ³1995).

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Schwerpunkt auf die Überlieferung der Akkade-Zeit legte: Sequential Reconstruction of Proto-Akkadian (AS 18), 1969. Seinen weitreichenden theoretischen Ansatz formulierte Gelb folgendermaßen: “The procedures of sequential reconstruction are applied here to the oldest recoverable stages of the Akkadian language. Instead of ‘Proto-Akkadian,’ I could have used the term ‘Proto-Semitic’ in the title … because the reconstruction of Proto-Akkadian to a very large measure affects that of Proto-Semitic” (p. XI).

In den seither vergangenen Jahrzehnten hat sich das Verständnis der frühen akkadischen Überlieferung rasant weiterentwickelt. Das enorm angewachsene Quellenmaterial hat die Basis für die Erforschung stark verbreitert; aus der vertieften Analyse resultiert auch die Schlußfolgerung, daß die zusammenfassende Bezeichnung “Altakkadisch” die Sachlage unangemessen, wenn nicht sogar irreführend darstellt. Es sollen hier nur die wichtigsten rezenten Arbeiten aufgeführt werden, die wiederum eine ausführliche Darstellung der Entwicklung in der Forschung bieten. Auf die Erforschung des Ur III-Akkadischen hat sich Hilgert konzentriert: Akkadisch in der Ur III-Zeit (IMGULA 5), 2002; New Perspectives in the Study of Third Millennium Akkadian. CDLJ 4 (2003):1–10; Zur Stellung des Ur III-Akkadischen innerhalb der akkadischen Sprachgeschichte. CDOG 3 (2004):185–204. Ein zentrales Ergebnis seiner Untersuchungen besteht in der Schlußfolgerung, daß das Akkadische der Ur III-Zeit im 21. Jahrhundert v. Chr. keine Fortsetzung des Akkadischen der vorhergehenden AkkadeZeit (konventionell 2334–2154) darstellt, sondern daß es sich um eine frühe Form des Babylonischen handelt, das dann nach 2000 allgemeine Verbreitung findet. In einer aktuellen Aufarbeitung der akkadischen Sprachstufe der Akkade-Zeit zeigt dann Hasselbach, daß auch diese keine homogene Einheit bildet, sondern daß sich vielmehr distinkte lokale Varietäten nachweisen lassen: Sargonic Akkadian. A Historical and Comparative Study of the Syllabic Texts, 2005; The Affiliation of Sargonic Akkadian with Babylonian and Assyrian: New Insights Concerning the Internal Sub-Grouping of Akkadian. JSS 52 (2007):21–43. Prä-Akkadisch Zu den Perioden, die unmittelbar der Dynastie von Akkade vorangehen, ist seit den oben zitierten Pionierarbeiten von Gelb ein quantitativ und

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substantiell enormer Materialzuwachs zu verzeichnen. Besonders wichtig war die 1975 einsetzende Entdeckung und Erschließung der viele Tausend Texte umfassenden Archive aus Ebla. War bis dahin über die sprachlichen Verhältnisse der frühdynastischen Zeit in Syrien kaum etwas bekannt, so gehört diese Region nun zu den am besten dokumentierten aus dem 3. Jahrtausend überhaupt, und die Publikation von ca. 40 zeitgleichen Verwaltungsurkunden aus Mari (s. u. 2.7 zu MARI 5 (1987) und 6 (1990)) und weiterer Funde aus Tell Beydar in Subartu 2 (1996) und 12 (2004), insgesamt über 200 Texte, haben die Forschungsbasis noch einmal beträchtlich erweitert. Die Unterschiede zwischen der lokalen Überlieferung aus Syrien und derjenigen, die in dem Gebiet zwischen Mari und Ur anzutreffen ist, sind beträchtlich, aber bislang erst ansatzweise erforscht. In Südmesopotamien entstand der wichtigste Materialzuwachs durch die Veröffentlichung der Quellen aus Abū Ôalābī¶ durch Biggs 1974 und Nippur durch Westenholz (1975b; 1975c), und in der Folgezeit sind noch viele Hundert weitere Texte aus verschiedenen Orten bekannt geworden. Einen den verfügbaren Quellen entsprechenden Forschungsstand gibt es nur partiell, die zusammenfassende Darstellung steht noch aus. Wichtige Aspekte hat nach Bekanntwerden der Funde aus Ebla und Abū Ôalābī¶ noch einmal Gelb analysiert (1981; 1992); er erschloß aus den sprachlichen und orthographischen Merkmalen, die sich in Ebla, Mari, Kiš und Abū Ôalābī¶ finden, einen zusammenhängenden Traditionsverbund, dessen kulturelles Zentrum Kiš bildete. Die prä-akkadischen Personennamen haben systematisch Westenholz (1988) und Di Vito (1993) gesammelt und untersucht. Von Krebernik stammt die bislang vollständigste Zusammenstellung und Auswertung der Fara-zeitlichen Quellen (1998), die auch einen eigenen Abschnitt über “Sumerisch und Akkadisch” (ibid. 260–270) enthält. Eines der größten Desiderate besteht nun in der vollständigen Dokumentation, Analyse und dialektalen Einordnung des prä-akkadischen Sprachmaterials. Nicht einmal eine so grundlegende Frage ist geklärt, in welchem Zusammenhang diese Sprachstufe mit derjenigen steht, die in der Akkade-Zeit überall Verbreitung fand: Ist das Prä-Akkadische ein unmittelbarer Vorläufer, oder handelt es sich um einen eigenen Dialekt? Worin bestehen dann die wesentlichen distinktiven Merkmale? Sind auch innerhalb des Prä-Akkadischen in Südmesopotamien Dialektunterschiede festzustellen?

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Belegzusammenstellung Die hier vorgelegte Untersuchung will einen Beitrag leisten, um diese Lücke zu schließen, wobei die möglichst vollständige Bestandsaufnahme im Vordergrund steht. Damit soll eine Grundlage geschaffen werden, die anschließende Studien erleichtert bzw. auch erst ermöglicht. Diese Zusammenstellung von insgesamt 1000 Einträgen prä-akkadischer Sprachzeugnisse ist folgendermaßen organisiert. 1. Die Dokumentation strebt an, das gesamte prä-akkadische Sprachmaterial zu erfassen, das sich in den (meist sehr verstreut) publizierten Quellen aus dem südlichen Mesopotamien bis hin zu Mari findet. Unter Einbeziehung der Überlieferung aus Ebla und Tell Beydar, die hier nicht weiter berücksichtigt ist, wird damit eine übergreifende Analyse aller prä-akkadischen semitischen Sprachzeugnisse möglich. Um diese zu erleichtern, wird auch eine Aufstellung des Syllabars mit vollständigen Querverweisen angefügt.4 2. Aufnahme gefunden haben sämtliche Elemente, bei denen eine semitische Herleitung evident ist. Berücksichtigt wurden in der Regel auch unsichere und nicht deutbare, sofern in der neueren Fachliteratur die Annahme vertreten wird, eine semitische Zuordnung sei wahrscheinlich oder zumindest möglich. Nur eindeutige Fehllesungen wurden – meist stillschweigend – ausgeschieden. Aufgenommen wurden auch hybride Eigennamen mit einem (angeblich) semitischen theophoren Element. 3. Die einzelnen Einträge werden getrennt in folgenden Gruppen angeordnet: Lexeme, Personen-, Götter-, Orts- und Monatsnamen, gegebenenfalls noch einmal unterteilt nach Belegen aus Rechts- und Verwaltungsurkunden bzw. solchen aus der literarischen und lexikalischen Überlieferung. Die Organisation des Materials erfolgte zeitlich gegliedert entsprechend den beiden frühdynastischen Epochen Fara-Zeit (ED IIIa) respektive prä- und frühsargonisch (ED IIIb) und innerhalb dieser Perioden dann alphabetisch nach den Fundorten der Texte. 4. Nicht aufgenommen wurden die insgesamt fast 200 (angeblich) semitischen Lehnwörter5 im Sumerischen, da hier nicht die Wirkungsgeschichte

4

Der Vergleich mit dem Onomastikon und Syllabar von Tell Beydar ist mittels der gut erschlossenen Editionen in Ismail et al. 1996 bzw. Milano et al. 2004, einfach herzustellen. Zum Onomastikon von Ebla s. Krebernik 1988 und Pagan 1998; zum Syllabar s. unter anderem Conti 1990; Krebernik 1982; 1983; 1985. – Weitere Untersuchungen zum Onomastikon unter Einbeziehung des präakkadischen Materials bieten z. B. Biggs 1988; Catagnoti 1998; Roberts 1972; Steinkeller 1993; zusätzliche Literaturhinweise sind im Folgenden unter den einzelnen Orten zu finden. 5 Die bislang zur Verfügung stehenden Zusammenstellungen sind veraltet und unvollständig, der Anteil des unsicheren und strittigen Materials ist hoch,

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Opening Lectures des semitischen Bevölkerungsanteils auf die Umgebung oder der Kulturverbund “Sumerer und Akkader” untersucht werden soll, vielmehr wird im Folgenden nur das Sprachmaterial zusammengestellt, das direkte Aufschlüsse zu Syllabar, Morphologie und Lexikon der genuinen prä-akkadischen Sprachstufe ermöglicht. Aus dem gleichen Grunde wurden auch sogenannte “Akkadogramme”6 – also Logogramme oder erstarrte syllabische Schreibungen mit semitischem Hintergrund – nicht berücksichtigt. 5. Auf die detaillierte Analyse der einzelnen Elemente oder die Diskussion kontroverser Auffassungen mußte weitgehend verzichtet werden, da eine solche meist komplexe und aufwendige Abhandlung den Rahmen dieses Beitrags bei weitem gesprengt hätte. Die bibliographischen Hinweise auf die Sekundärliteratur beschränken sich deshalb auch auf die wichtigsten Untersuchungen, wobei diejenigen favorisiert werden, die die weiterführende Literatur eingearbeitet haben. Systematisch wird lediglich auf die Zusammenstellungen von Westenholz (1988) und Di Vito (1993) Bezug genommen, die den bislang vollständigsten Überblick über das präsargonische semitische Onomastikon in Südmesopotamien einschließlich entsprechender Deutungsvorschläge bieten.

Der überwiegende Teil des hier zusammengestellten Belegmaterials besteht aus Personennamen. Methodisch von weitreichender Bedeutung ist deshalb die Tatsache, daß das akkadische Onomastikon allgemein die zeitgenössische Sprache mit den verschiedenen Dialektformen repräsentiert; insbesondere bezüglich Lexikon, Morphologie und Phonologie werden Innovationen in einem hohen Maße widergespiegelt. Die zu verzeichnenden Archaismen entsprechen denjenigen der zeitgleichen literarischen Tradition. Streck (2002) hat zuletzt die entsprechende Diskussion zusammengefaßt und diesen Sachverhalt eingehend dargestellt. Es lassen sich keine Befunde erkennen, aufgrund derer bezweifelt werden könnte, daß diese Analyse auch für das hier behandelte prä-akkadische Onomastikon Gültigkeit hat.7 und eine kritische Sichtung wäre folglich sehr aufwendig, vgl. zuletzt Sommerfeld 2006. 6 Vgl. dazu beispielsweise Krebernik 1992:69; 1998:260f. 7 Hasselbach 2005:20f. mit Anm. 105 übergeht diesen von Streck ausführlich begründeten Forschungsstand. Sie verwendet als Argument nur vereinzelte Archaismen im Onomastikon und bestreitet grundsätzlich, daß Personennamen eine geeignete Quelle für die Erfassung von Dialekt- und Sprachmerkmalen des Akkadischen sind (“In general, personal names cannot be counted among the genuine evidence for a language of a specific time and area since they are often resulting from a longer and older tradition”); sie versucht, diese These mit einer entfernten Parallele aus der frühnordarabischen Namengebung zu begründen, wobei die von ihr

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In den sechs Jahrhunderten zwischen der Erfindung der Schrift und der ED IIIa (Fara)-Zeit (ca. 3200–2600 v. Chr.) sind bislang keine eindeutig semitischen Eigennamen, Lexeme oder Lehnwörter nachzuweisen, s. ausführlich Sommerfeld 2006. Im Folgenden werden einige Personennamen aus diesem Zeitraum aufgeführt, bei denen in der Fachliteratur eine semitische Herleitung in Erwägung gezogen wurde und die sich typologisch an das spätere Onomastikon anschließen lassen, auch wenn deren Etymologie nicht geklärt ist. 1. Späturuk- bis Fara-Zeit 1.1. Jemdet Nasr Personennamen No. 1 I-mi-ERIM 2 Si-ma 3 Ú-il

Anm. [1] [2] [3]

Belege: [1] MSVO 1, S. 115. [2] MSVO 1, S. 139. [3] MSVO 1, 104 ii 3.

Alle diese Belege sind äußerst unsicher, s. Sommerfeld 2006:53–55. ED I/II-Zeit 1.2. Ur Personennamen 4 A-LUMx(ZU/ZU+SAR) 5 É-lu-lu 6 GÁ-za-za 7 NI-la-la 8 Zú-lá-lum Zu diesen sehr unsicheren PN s. mit Belegen und weiterer Diskussion Sommerfeld 2006:67f. zitierte Position allerdings umstritten ist und keineswegs eine gesicherte Opinio communis darstellt. Im Bereich des Akkadischen bestehen nachweislich Gegenbeispiele; so lassen sich etwa das Akkadische der Ur III-Zeit oder das Amurritische, die beide ganz überwiegend aufgrund des Onomastikons rekonstruiert werden müssen, eindeutig voneinander und von anderen akkadichen Dialekten und Sprachstufen abgrenzen und in vielen Einzelheiten problemlos klassifizieren.

84

Opening Lectures

ED III-Zeit Die folgende Belegzusammenstellung erfolgt zeitlich gegliedert entsprechend den beiden frühdynastischen Epochen 1. ED IIIa-Zeit (alias Fara-Zeit), ca. 2600–2450 v. Chr., und 2. ED IIIb-Zeit (alias prä- und frühsargonische Zeit), ca. 2450–2300 v. Chr.

Die weitere Anordnung innerhalb dieser Perioden geschieht dann alphabetisch nach den Fundorten der Texte (1.3–1.13, No. 9–322, sowie 2.1–2.15, No. 323–1000). Die einzelnen Einträge werden in folgende Gruppen getrennt: Lexeme, Personen-, Götter-, Orts- und Monatsnamen, gegebenenfalls noch einmal unterteilt nach Belegen aus Rechts- und Verwaltungsurkunden bzw. solchen aus der literarischen und lexikalischen Überlieferung. ED IIIa-Zeit Die zahlenmäßig mit Abstand größte Textgruppe stammt aus Fara (ca. 1000), gefolgt von Abū Ôalābī¶ (über 500), während Adab, das Dijala-Gebiet, Girsu, Isin, Kiš, Mari, Nippur, Ur und unbekannte Fundorte zusammengenommen mit nur ungefähr 150 Texten aus dieser Periode vertreten sind.8 Der Anteil semitischer Personennamen am Onomastikon beträgt in Abū Ôalābī¶ “mindestens 40 Prozent”, in Fara lediglich “ca. 2–3 Prozent” (Krebernik 2002:7; vgl. 1998:264f.), in Kiš weniger als 20 Prozent (Sommerfeld 2006:70f.); in den schlechter bezeugten übrigen Fundorten sind nur Einzelbelege festzustellen, die für aussagekräftige statistische Quantifizierungen keine hinreichende Grundlage bilden. 1.3. (Tell) Abū Ôalābī¶ (abgekürzt TAS) Lexeme 9 10 11 12

in li-im mi-at ù

Zu den Belegen s. Krebernik 1998:270. 8 Einzelheiten lassen sich den Textkatalogen von Krebernik (1998:337–377), bzw. CDLI (http://cdli.ucla.edu/) entnehmen. Im vorliegenden Beitrag werden nur publizierte Texte berücksichtigt.

W. Sommerfeld, Prä-Akkadisch…

85

Lexeme aus literarischen Texten Anm. 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25

AD-sù

a[l] AM-sù gú-lu¶-c¶a!?e i-ma i-NI-x ì-ku-[u]l? in PA.È.AK-sù sù ù URU-s[ù] zi-rí-LUM

[4]

Einzelheiten s. Krebernik 1992; 1998:270. [4] Für /šu’āti/, s. Krebernik 1992:75, 137; 1998:270.

Personennamen Anm. 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48

c

Ae-a-um(-KU.LI) A-¶a-ar-si A-la-LUM A-LAK350-BÀD A-lum-BÀD A-lum-ì-lum Amar-dZu-en AN.R[U?.X?]-¶a-LA[M] Aš-da-da c Aš?e-rúm Áš-mud Ba-lum-ì-l[um] Bí-bí-um BÍL-I[l] d Úa-rí-ur-sag Da-da En-na-Il En-na-na c GIŠ.BAN?e-Il Gu-NI-sum ÚAR-KA ÚAR.TU ÚAR.TU-dNisaba

[5]

ARES 1 56 57, 58 40

StP 16

38 8, 39

29.1c 30.4b

[6] 9 64 10 [7] 11 46 66 [8]

22.4i

86

Opening Lectures 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93

ÚI-la-ì-lum

Úu-dì-um I-bí-um I-dì-dI7 I-dì-dŠa-gagan I-dì-dUD.GAM+GAM I-dì-É I-dúr-[(x)]-a-NAM I-gi-ì-lum I-gi4-ì-lum I-IM.NI-RÚM I-cKA?e-LUM I-ku-a-¶a I-KU.GU-Il I-ku-i-sar I-ku-Il I-kùn-Ma-rí I-me!(BAR)-ERIM+x I-ši-x?-gu-NI-x Ì-lum-ca-¶ae Ì-lum-GÀR Ì-lum-ma-lik Ib-AN-mud Il-BÀD Il-LAK647 [I]l-su-a-¶a Il-su-GÀR Il-sù-a-¶a Il-sù-ERIM+x Il-sù-ma-lik Il-turBÀD Il-czue-zu Im-lik-É Im-rí-iš-É Ìr(UŠ)-bí-a-¶a Ìr(UŠ)-mi-Il Iš-ga-BAD Iš-lul-Il c Iš-má-ìe-lum Iš-¢up-dKA.DI Iš-¢up-Il La-mu-tum Maš-MES.MES Mes-lam-Il Mi-en-nu

[9]

12 67 47 43 44 45 70

43

13 14

43 43

48 16 49 15 41

17.11 17.11

20 21

30.5a 30.4d

17

29.1c 43 30.4a 30.5a 30.4a 43 30.4d 29.1c 43

31 33 32 35 34 18 68

[10]

50 23 63 25 26 42 24 72

17.1

17.11

43 43 43 24.1b 24.1b

[11] 29

30.4b

W. Sommerfeld, Prä-Akkadisch… 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104

87

Mi-mud PÙ.ŠA-É

73 30 52 53 54

PÙ.ŠA-Il

Su-ma-a-ba4 Su-ma-a-¶a Su13-ma-a-¶a Ša-LUM Ti-dur Ù-Aš-tár Ù-NE-NE [U]r-Ap-ra

39.2e 39.2e 30.4a 30.4a

[12] 37 74 [13]

Zur Zusammenstellung der Belege mit Diskussion s. Krebernik 1998:265–267. Ergänzungen: [5] + IAS 328 vi 14. [6] 502 ii 4, s. Pomponio 1991:142. [7] 266; 474:2′. [8] + Alster 2005:180, 48′, Komm. S. 191. [9] + IAS 483Rs.:3; 485:2′. [10] + IAS 61Rs. (?); 116 xiii 1′; 477:1′; 482:1′; 489:3′; 528 iv 3′. [11] IAS 13Rs. i 7′; 18Rs. ii′ 4, s. Biggs 1988:96+41. [12] 529 v 2′, s. Pomponio 1991:146. [13] IAS 478:2′.

Personennamen aus der Names and Professions List (NPL) Anm. 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123

[’À-nu]-NI A-¶u-NE A-LUM A-lum-lum Á-na Ar-NI-ba Ar-rúm Aš-tár-BAL Az-bum Az-za-bum Ba-lu5-lu5 d IM.MImušen-me-ru Da-dum da

ARES 1

[14]

StP 16

30.4b

59 36 61 60 62 65

SIG5

Ga-ri I-bí-la I-dì-ì-lum I-su-BAL I-su13-BAL

27

17.1

88

Opening Lectures 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137

Ib-li Il-SIG5(IGI+LAK527) Im-dum Im-lik-Il Im-mar Iš11-gi4-me-ru Ki-núm LÚ׊È-Il MES-sar Mi-na-LUM Na-sum SIG?-na-sar Sù-ma-me-ru UR.SAG-GÀR

[15]

19 69 22

30.5a 17.8

51 71 28

55 30.5a

Zur Zusammenstellung der Belege mit Diskussion s. Krebernik 1998:268f. Ergänzungen: [14] Archi 1981:186, 173. [15] + Archi 1981:181, 6.

Götternamen Anm. 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157

AN-má-ti AN-tum d

Ba4-al Ba4-li-¶a d BAD-ŠINIG d Da-bar d Da-rí(-x?) d Du-du d

dc e

É

d

Gàra d I-ku-pi d Ištaran(KA.DI) d Kà-kà d Kù-rib-ba d Ma-l[ik?] d Ma-ni d Me-ru d Sar-gi-me-ru d.šè Šer7(NIR) d Zu-en

[16]

[17]

Zur Zusammenstellung der Belege mit Diskussion s. Krebernik 1998:269.

W. Sommerfeld, Prä-Akkadisch…

89

Ergänzungen: [16] Mander 1986:27, 154; Roberts 1972:40. [17] + Krebernik 1992:96.

Ortsnamen Nur wenige Ortsnamen aus dem sog. Atlante Geografico können eindeutig als semitisch identifiziert werden. Mögliche Vertreter aus der Rezension, die in Abū Ôalābī¶ bezeugt ist, sind: 158 A-lu-lumki 159 Qaq-qá-ra(ki) 160 cSa-NINkie 161 cSar-ra-LUMkie 162 Ú-ZARki

[18] [19] [20] [21] [22]

Zu den Editionen und den Parallelen aus Ebla s. Krebernik 1998:284–286, 362 (sub IAS 91–111; 331). Belege mit weiterer Literatur: [18] IAS 91 vi′ 9 (MEE 3, 235:169). [19] IAS 91Rs. iii 7′ // 331 vi′ 5 (MEE 3, 238:242). [20] IAS 91 iv′ 5 (MEE 3, 234:121); s. Frayne 1992:7–9 mit Anm. 28. [21] IAS 91 vi′ 7 (MEE 3, 235:167); s. Frayne 1992:32. [22] IAS 495Rs. i 8′; s. Steinkeller 1979.

Monatsnamen 163 164

ITU ITU

i-si za-’à-tum

S. Cohen 1993:25, 29; Krebernik 1998:257, 270.

1.4. Adab Personenname 165 Me-salim

[23]

[23] RIME 1.8.1.2–3:1, zur Etymologie s. Sommerfeld 2006:72f.

1.5. Dijala-Gebiet (Tell Agrab, Tutub) Personen?- und Gottesname 166 167

ÚAR.TU d

Zu-en

[24] FAOS 7 VP 1:6. [25] FAOS 7 VP 6:3, 8; 7:1′.

[24] [25]

90

Opening Lectures

1.6. Fara Personennamen Anm. 168 169 170 171 172 173 174 175 176 177 178 179 180 181 182 183 184 185 186 187 188 189 190 191 192 193 194 195 196 197 198 199 200 201 202 203 204 205 206 207 208

’À-la-LUMx(ZU/ZU+SAR) ’À-LUM ’À-LUMx(ZU/ZU+SAR) ’À-na ’À-na-lu ’À-na-lu-lu ’À-nam A-¶a-lum A-¶ar-ši A-LUM-ma A-NI-NI AK-Aš-tár amar-dZu-en AN-KALAG AN-mu-da Aš?-má? Aš?-má?-sar Aš-ma¶ Aš-mᶠAš-tár-GÀR Aš-tár-UNmušen Áš-tá-Il Áš-tám-Il Bi-li-li Bù-la-lí d Zu-en-MUD Da-da DA-DU-lul Da-dum E-du-iá En-gi Eš?-še-šu Ga-ri Ga-ri-NI GAG-zi-um GÉME?-Ma-ma Úa-ni-lum ÚAR.TU ÚAR.TU-dSùd ÚAR.TU-TUR I-BU-NI

ARES 1

StP 16

96 [26] [27]

21.2 92

[28] [29]

30.5a 30.5a

75 76 [30] [31] 97

100 [32] 98

W. Sommerfeld, Prä-Akkadisch… 209 210 211 212 213 214 215 216 217 218 219 220 221 222 223 224 225 226 227 228 229 230 231 232 233 234 235 236 237 238 239 240 241 242 243 244 245 246 247 248 249 250 251 252 253

I-bù-LUL-Il I-[Ú]I?-É I-ku-GI I-na-Il I-crí?e-gi I-sar-pum Ì-lum-GÀR Ì-lum-sux(MUŠ) Ib-gi-NE Il-LAGAB-LUMx(ZU/ZU+SAR) Il-lu-sar Il-NI-NI Il-NI-[(x)] Il-sù-nu--ru Il-sux(MUŠ)-nu-me- Il-sux(MUŠ)--me-ru Il-sux(MUŠ)-nu-me-ru Il-tu-tu Iš-lul-Il Iš-me-lum Iš-pi-lum Iš-¢up-Il La-la La-la-lum La-LUM-ma LUM-ma ME-ÚAR-ši Mes-[lam]-Il MI-la MI-la-UN Mi-mud MI.SU4.AD Na-DI-nu NE-LUMx(ZU/ZU+SAR) NI-ba-¶i-li NI-NI Pi-lí-lí Pù-sar Su-mu-cAš?-tár?e Su4-a-bi Šu-a-ba4 Šu-a-na-ti c ŠULe-bí-nu Ù-RI-ti-LUMx(ZU/ZU+SAR) U5-Aš-tár

[33]

91 85

43

95 82

43

99 80 81

24.6e 30.5a

78 77

[34] [35]

88 90 89 91 79 84 293 86 83

87

43

43 24.6a 24.1b

30.4b

101

[36] [37] [38]

43 43 93

[39] 94

92

Opening Lectures 254 255 256 257 258 259 260

Um-ma-TUR Um-me-dTIR mušen UN -sar Ur-dAš-tár Ur-dE-lum Ur-d.šèŠer7(-da) Zú-lá-lum

[40] [41] 92 [42] 102

Zur Zusammenstellung der Belege mit Diskussion s. Krebernik 1998:261–264. Ergänzungen: [26] Marchesi 2006:89. [27] SS NS 3, 10. [28] SS NS 3, 38. [29] SS NS 3, 41. [30] DP 38 i 2, s. Alberti 1981:256. [31] SS NS 3, 63. [32] Krebernik 2002:52, Anm. 277. [33] + WF 76 i 16. [34] BIN 8, 15 iv 3. [35] + CT 50, 25 iii′ 6. [36] SS NS 3, 190f. [37] RTC 12 iii 2. [38] S. Krecher 1973:204–206; Steinkeller–Postgate 1992:19f.; Visicato, in Martin et al. 2001:155; Wilcke 2007:52, Anm. 140. [39] Westenholz 1975a:434. [40] Amiet 1980:1118. [41] ELTS 13Rs. iii 2, s. Krebernik 1993–1994:90. Vgl. kritisch Sommerfeld 2006:69f. [42] SS NS 3, 263f.; Steible–Yıldız 2000:987 ii 5.

Personennamen aus literarischen und lexikalischen Texten Anm. 261 dE-lum-àga-zi 262 dE-lum-[an]-dùl 263 Il-me-sar 264 cSag!e-dE-lum-da

[43]

Zu den Belegen s. Krebernik 1998:264. [43] Anders Krebernik 1998:264; vgl. aber Krebernik 2002:50.

Götternamen Anm. 265 266 267 268

AN-ma-tum d

E-lum Kù-rib-ba d La-¶ar

[44]

d

[45]

W. Sommerfeld, Prä-Akkadisch… 269 270

93

d.šè d

Šer7 Zu-en

[46]

Zu den Belegen s. Krebernik 1998:270. Ergänzungen: [44] Krebernik 1998:264, Anm. 273, vgl. noch Edzard 1976–1980:47. [45] Lambert 1980–1983; vgl. Sommerfeld 2006:74. [46] S. noch Krebernik 1993–1997:361; Pomponio, in Martin et al. 2001:113.

1.7. Girsu Personennamen 271 I-dì-GAN.DU 272 Me-salim 273 Ú-il

Anm. [47] [48] [49]

ARES 1 103

Anm.

ARES 1

StP 16

288

22.4i

289

22.4i

296 291 292 294

17.11 43 24.6a 24.1b

ARES 1 123 5

StP 16

[47] RTC 6 i 4. [48] RIME 1.8.1.1:1. [49] RTC 1 ii 3.

1.8. Isin Personennamen 274 275 276 277 278 279 280 281 282 283 284 285

Amar-dZu-en Bi-li-li Da-da DINGIR-en-ni É-Ma-ma En-na-Il ÚAR.TU I-gu-ì-lí Ì-la-lum Iš-me-ì-lum Iš-¢up-Il Ur-Ap-ra

[50]

[51]

Zu den Belegen s. ELTS, S. 163ff. (No. 14, 15). [50] Steinkeller 2004b. [51] Vgl. Roberts 1972:12.

1.9. Kiš Personennamen Anm. 286 A-bù-lum 287 A-lum-BÀD

[52]

29.1c

94

Opening Lectures 288 289 290 291 292 293 294 295 296 297 298 299 300 301 302 303 304 305 306 307

A-NI-NI Aš-tár-BAL? I-b[í-…] I-b[í]-bí I-bí-DINGIR [I]-GU.KU-[I]l I-mu-mu Ì-l[um?-…] Ì-lum-ÚA.A Im-li[k?-x] Ìr-DU?-[…] Iš-¢up-Il [L]a-m[u-sa/tum/um] LAGAB-da-AN Ma-la-ì-s[ù] c Mes-lame-[I]l Su-m[u-…] Ù-Aš-tár c Ure-dZu-cene Ur-dŠa-ma!-gan

21.2

[53]

132 134 126 1 133

[54]

2

[55] [56] [57] [58] [59] [60]

3 135 7 4 6

24.1b

30.4b

[61] [62]

Zu den Belegen s. ELTS, S. 163ff. (No. 16, 17). Ergänzungen: [52] AAICAB I/1, pl. 4 iv 1. [58] EK IV, pl. XLIV 5 i 2. [53] Buchanan 1966:137. [59] AAICAB I/1, pl. 4 vi 3. [54] Unver., s. ARES 1, 110:2. [60] EK IV, S. 36, 409 C ii′ 2′. [55] Unver., s. ARES 1, 110:3. [61] EK IV, pl. XLIII 1Rs. i 6′. [56] ELTS 16e 2′. [62] AAICAB I/1, pl. 5, 428 i 3. [57] ELTS 16d B ii 1.

1.10. Mari Lexeme 308 ’a5-na 309 be-li-sù 310 ù Die Belege stammen – ebenso wie der PN Šum-BAD (No. 312) – aus der ältesten Mari-Inschrift FAOS 7 MP 24, s. noch Krebernik 1998:270, Anm. 427; 287, Anm. 550.

Personennamen 311 Il-me-sar 312 Šum-BAD

[63]

[63] Amiet 1980, pl. 72 bis B; s. Krebernik 1998:264, Anm. 270.

W. Sommerfeld, Prä-Akkadisch…

95

1.11. Nippur Lexeme [64] [65]

313 áš-te4 314 in [64] ELTS 26 i 11′.

[65] ELTS 26 i 3′.

Personennamen 315 316 317 318

Anm. [66] [67] [68] [69]

Ad-da-LUM Amar-dSu-en En-na-Il Il-sù

[66] ECTJ 54 i 3. [67] ECTJ 54 i 4.

ARES 1

StP 16 43

125

22.4i 43

ARES 1

StP 16

285

30.4d

ARES 1

StP 16 22.4i

[68] ELTS 26 ii 1. [69] OIP 129, pl. 192, 1 i 2.

1.12. Ur Personennamen 319 Il-iš-x 320 Il-su-ma-lik 321 [x]-iš-da

Anm. [70] [71] [72]

[70] UET 2, 308:2; vgl. Krebernik 2002:6, Anm. 15. [71] UET 2, 308:1. [72] UET 2, 308:3.

1.13. Herkunft unbekannt9 Personenname 322 En-na-Il

Anm. [73]

[73] Buchanan 1981:243.

2. ED IIIb- und frühsargonische Zeit Die Überlieferung aus den Jahrzehnten vor der Etablierung der Dynastie von Akkade und aus deren Anfangszeit zeigt hinsichtlich der verwende9

Pettinato (1997:56) bezeichnet den dort veröffentlichten Fara-zeitlichen Text No. 1 als “redatto chiaramente in semitico”. Diese Liste enthält einige sicher als PN zu identifizierende Einträge, jedoch keine mit eindeutig semitischer Etymologie (verlesen ist etwa an-da-ti-in [iv 9] statt An-da-ti-le, vgl. z. B. Nik. 1, 6 xiii 8).

96

Opening Lectures

ten Sprache und des Schriftsystems überwiegend ein Kontinuum. Abgesehen von der vereinzelten Erwähnung von historisch signifikanten Eigennamen und Jahresdaten fehlen Indizien, die eine Trennung der Quellen erlauben, die vor Sargon bzw. unter seiner Herrschaft entstanden sind. Die “Sprache von Akkade” und das innovative Schriftsystem, das zu deren Verbreitung eingeführt wurde, sind bereits konsequent in den offiziellen Inschriften Sargons, die allerdings fast ausschließlich in altbabylonischen Kopien erhalten sind, sowie im Obelisk des Maništušu (ELTS 40) anzutreffen, nicht aber in den frühsargonischen Verwaltungstexten aus Adab, Nippur und Umma, die weiterhin eine lokale Tradition anwenden, die mit der präsargonischen weitgehend identisch ist. Eine deutliche Zäsur ist erst unter Naram-Sin festzustellen, als zusammen mit den vielen Repräsentanten der Zentralverwaltung auch die offizielle Sprache und das Schriftsystem von Akkade in der Administration überall bezeugt sind, neben denen aber die älteren Schreibgewohnheiten teilweise weiterhin koexistierten. Abgesehen von einigen frühsargonischen Dokumenten sind solche aus der Anfangszeit der Dynastie von Akkade bis hin zu Naram-Sin bislang erst ganz vereinzelt identifiziert worden, deshalb läßt sich dieser Umstrukturierungsprozeß noch nicht näher erfassen. Da die prä- und frühsargonischen Sprachzeugnisse derselben Schicht zuzuordnen sind, werden sie in der folgenden Belegzusammenstellung auch gemeinsam erfaßt, nur Inschriften, die aus dem unmittelbaren Milieu der Herrscher stammen, werden nicht berücksichtigt. Die zahlenmäßig mit Abstand größte Textgruppe stammt aus Girsu (über 2000), gefolgt von Nippur (ca. 400); in der Größenordnung von jeweils 100–200 befinden sich diejenigen aus Adab, Mari, Umma und Zabalam und solche unbekannter Herkunft; einige Dutzend Texte stammen aus Isin, Kiš und Ur, während aus dem Dijala-Gebiet, Dilbat, Sippar und Uruk nur vereinzelte Funde bekannt sind.10 Im Allgemeinen sind in sumerischem Milieu semitische Personennamen mit nur wenigen Prozent im Onomastikon vertreten, wobei sich in Nippur in einigen Einzeltexten eine signifikante Häufung findet.11 Ein Befund, der dem auffällig hohen Anteil entspricht, der in Abū Ôalābī¶ in der Fara-Zeit “mindestens 40 Prozent” beträgt, läßt sich in der prä- und frühsargonischen Periode nicht feststellen. 10

Einzelheiten sind im Textkatalog von CDLI (http://cdli.ucla.edu) zu finden. Im vorliegenden Beitrag werden nur publizierte Texte berücksichtigt. 11 Zur Sachlage in Nippur s. die Beobachtungen von Biggs 1988:90f.; Westenholz 1975b:8–10.

W. Sommerfeld, Prä-Akkadisch…

97

2.1. Adab Lexem 323 šu

[74]

[74] ELTS 31 ii′ 4; iii′ 8′; iv′ 4′.

Personennamen 324 325 326 327 328 329 330 331 332 333 334 335 336 337 338 339 340 341 342 343 344 345 346 347 348 349 350 351 352 353 354 355 356 357 358 359

A-bí-bí A-bum-GIŠ.ERIM Be-lí-iš-li Da-dum EZEN-qar-ra-ad Gu-da-ì-lí c e I -dì-ZU Ì-lu-ra-bí Ib-lul-Il! Il-su Ìr-ì-bum Ìr(UŠ)-mi-Il Iš-x-[x] KA-Ma-ma Kál-bum La-la La-qá-tum Ma-ma-um-mi Ma-siki-be-lí Ma-šum PÙ.ŠA-Aš-tár Pù-šu-tum Ra-bí-Il Ra-ì-si-in Si-bi-tum Su-tu-ì-lum Su4?-ma-x-x-x Šu-d[x]-KA [Š]u?-É-a Ú-NE-NE Ú-tum-ma-ì-lum Ù-mu-NI-NI c Ume-ma-DU10 Ur-dEN.ZU Ur-Ì-šum c Zae-NI-NI

Anm.

ARES 1

[75]

253 251 255 256 248

[76] [77] [78] [79]

245 244 249 252

[80] [81] [82] [83]

StP 16

30.5a 24.6a 43 43

250 257

32.1c

258 [84] 259 [85]

39.2e 254 246

30.5a

247

43

[86] [87]

[88] [89] [90] [91] [92]

260 43

98

Opening Lectures 360 Zi-lú-aš-da 361 Zi-rí-LUM 362 [x-…]-cì-líe

Zu den Belegen s. ELTS, S. 163ff. (No. 31–33, App. to 32). Ergänzungen: [75] FAOS 5/II AnAdab 12:3′. [76] OIP 14, 74 ii 6. [77] AnAdab 4:2′. [78] OIP 14, 61 i 3. [79] OIP 14, 58 i 3. [80] TBI I, 30 i 3. [81] OIP 14, 71 ii 2. [82] ELTS 33 ii′ 7′. [83] OIP 14, 71 i 1. [84] TBI I, 140:2; 141:2; 142:5. [85] TBI I, 3Rs. i 4. [86] TBI I, 45 i 3. [87] TBI I, 137:3; 141:8. [88] OIP 14, 63 i 5. [89] AnAdab 11:2′. [90] ELTS 31 iv′ 3′. [91] OIP 14, 51 iv 6. [92] OIP 14, 60 i 4.

2.2. Dijala-Gebiet (Ešnunna, Tutub) Personennamen 363 364 365 366 367 368

A-ar-[x] Aš-tár-la-ba ÚAR.TU Qì-šum Sar-ma-ì-lum Šu-Aš-tár

Anm. [93] [94] [95] [96] [97] [98]

[93] Sommerfeld 2004:292: MAD 1, 261 iii 2. [94] Sommerfeld 2004:288: MAD 1, 260Rs.:3. [95] FAOS 5/II AnEšn. 2:3. [96] Sommerfeld 2004:292: MAD 1, 261 ii 8; iii 8. [97] FAOS 5/II AnHaf. 4:1. [98] Sommerfeld 2004:289: MAD 1, 262 ii 10.

2.3. Dilbat Lexeme 369 in 370 SÁM-sù

[99] [100]

ARES 1

StP 16

194

30.4c 37.3

W. Sommerfeld, Prä-Akkadisch…

99

[99] ELTS 37U. E. iv′ 2; Rs. iii 16. [100] ELTS 37Rs. iii 17.

Personennamen Anm. 371 372 373 374 375 376 377 378 379 380 381 382 383 384 385 386 387

A-lum-DU10 A-NI-NI DUB-si-ga En-na-Il I-dúr-la-im I-KU.GU-Il I-zi-lum Ì-a-ki-na-ni Ì-lu-lu Il-sù-LAK647 Iš-¢up-DINGIR.DINGIR Iš-¢up-Il Pù-pù PÙ.ŠA-sù-DU10 Ra-bí-ì-lum Su4-ma-ma-lik Ur-Ap-ra

ARES 1 144 143

StP 16

137 146 138 140

22.4i

21.2

[101] [102]

17.11

[103] 139 142 145 139a 149 147 141 148

24.1b 32.3c 30.5a 30.4d

Zu den Belegen s. ELTS, S. 163ff. (No. 37). Ergänzungen: [101] S. Steinkeller 1993:242. [102] ELTS 37 i′ 7 (!). [103] S. Glassner 1995:16.

2.4. Girsu Lexem 388 zi-rí-LUM

[104]

[104] Nik. 1, 284 iii 3.

Personennamen 389 390 391 392 393 394 395 396

A-¶a-ti A-lum-BA A-lum-KALAG A-NE-da A-NI-NI Áb-d[a] AN-ma Aš-tár-um-me

Anm. [105] [106]

ARES 1

[107] [108] [109] [110]

StP 16

21.2

267

16.1b 29.1a

100 397 398 399 400 401 402 403 404 405 406 407 408 409 410 411 412 413 414 415 416 417 418 419 420 421 422 423 424 425 426 427 428 429 430 431 432 433 434 435 436 437 438 439 440 441

Opening Lectures Bù-la-lí Da-da DA-DU-lul Da-na É-li-li Gi-num Úa-bil ÚAR.TU I-bí-um Ì-lí-pi-lí Ì-lum-KALAG Ib-mud KA.IL(-ma) Kál-búm La-la Ma-ma-DU Ma-ma-ni Ma-ma-tum Mar-tum Me-salim MI.SU4.AD PÙ.ŠA-dEN.SU PÙ.ŠA-Ma-ma PÙ.ŠA-ma-SAG×Ú PÙ.ŠA-SU Qí-bi Qí-bi-ba-la-¢ì Ra-bí Ra-bí-lum Ra-ì-lum Sa-dSi-bí Si-bí-tum Si-ma Si-PI-DU Si-um-me Su4-ma Su4-sar ŠUL-bí-nu-um Tàš-ni-tum Ú-da Um-me Um-mi Ur-d.šèŠer7(-da) Ur-dZa-ra Ur-Ma-ma

[111] [112] [113] [114] [115] [116] [117] [118] [119] [120] [121] [122] [123] [124] [125] [126] [127] [128] [129] [130] [131] [132] [133] [134] [135]

[136] [137] [138] [139] [140] [141] [142] [143] [144] [145] [146] [147] [148]

275 304 270 266 261

30.5a

262 303

276 277 278 269 268, 300 301 271

305 264 265

273 272 302

274 280 279

39.2e

30.5a 30.4c

29.1a

W. Sommerfeld, Prä-Akkadisch… 442 UŠ-ni-tum 443 ZA-NI-NI 444 Zi-la-la 445 Zi-li 446 Zi-zi

[149]

101 281

[150] [151] [152]

Zu den Belegen s. Selz 1995:294, Anm. 17. Ergänzungen: [105] + Nik. 1, 1 viii 4; DCS 3 ix 15. [106] + AWAS 124 iv 18; DP 116 vi 1; Nik. 1, 16 v 3; 20 v 6!; STH 1, 27 v 9. [107] BIN 8, 381 i 6, vgl. A-ne-da-nu-me-a RTC 19 iii 3; vii 4. [108] + (oft). [109] + BIN 8, 23 ii 7; DP 157 iii 10; RTC 53 iii 2; VS 25, 14 iii 9; 37 iii 10. [110] + BIN 8, 23 ii 4; DP 157 iii 4; 160 ii 6; VS 25, 14 iii 3; 37 iii 4. [111] + DP 101 ii 1; 137 iv 3; ELTS 23 x 1. [112] ELTS 22 ii 4, 41 + (oft). [113] Krecher 1984:153, Anm. 101, zu RTC 25 i 3; + VS 27, 46 i 3. [114] STH 1, 21 iv 11 + (oft). [115] BIN 8, 385 i 2; RTC 17 iv 5. [116] + Selz 1993:88 (oft). [117] Nik. 1, 11 i 1. [118] Selz 1989:73f. + (oft). [119] + (oft). [120] + AWAS 124 iv 15; CT 50, 35 v 5′; DP 117 v 12; Nik. 1, 20 v 11; STH 27 v 6. [121] ELTS, S. 171; s. Steinkeller 1993:240. [122] DP 250 iii 3; RTC 70 ii 1; Nik. 1, 203 v 3; vgl. Selz 1998:319 mit Anm. 37. [123] DP 339 i 2. [124] Selz 1989:552 + (oft). [125] + CT 50, 33 iv 5; DCS 4 xiii 1. [126] + (oft). [127] + BIN 8, 23 iii 6; DP 157 iii 15; VS 25, 14 iii 14; 37 iii 15. [128] RIME 1.9.3.2 i 6; iv 16; 9.3.3 ii′ 6; 9.5.1 i 8; ii 7. [129] + AWL 195 ii 1; DP 136 vi 3; Nik. 1, 3 vii 12. [130] + AWAS 122 i 11; DP 114 i 11; 115 i 11; TSA 15 i 12; 16 i 5. [131] + (oft). [132] DP 339 iv 2. [133] VS 27, S. 23; DP 136 vii 7; Nik. 1, 3 vi 7. [134] + CTNMC 2 i 4. [135] Nik. 1, 11 ii 1. [136] Selz 1995:274 + (oft). [137] VS 27, 24 iv 5. [138] + (oft). [139] + (oft). [140] + (oft). [141] Steinkeller 1995:541; + DP 211 i 4; VS 25, 89 vii 2. [142] Nik. 1, 224 ii 3; 242 ii 2 +; s. Westenholz 1975a:434.

102

Opening Lectures

[143] + (oft). [144] CTNMC 2 ii 7; DP 120 vii 5; 555 iv 5; Nik. 1, 101 i 3; STH 1, 28 ii 8′. [145] + (oft). [146] Selz 1995:276 + (oft). [147] Selz 1995:288. [148] AWL 111 ii 4. [149] + (oft). [150] Selz 1993:273 + (oft). [151] + (oft). [152] + (oft).

Götternamen 447 448

d

EN.ZU

d

Za-za-URU

[153] Selz 1995:274f.

[153] [154] [154] Selz 1995:288.

Ortsnamen 449 Ma-ni-Il 450 Tidnum(GÌR.GÌR)

Anm. [155] [156]

ARES 1 263

[155] RIME 1.9.1.12 iii 3. [156] Marchesi 2006:7ff.

2.5. Isin Lexem 451 šu

[157]

[157] Wilcke 1996:67, zu RA 73 xvii 29.

Personennamen 452 453 454 455 456 457 458 459 460 461 462

A-¶u(RI)-SIG5 Ba-ir-x-[t]um Da-da I-a-É Ì-lum-a-¶a? Kà-la-su-ni Ma-¶ir MI.AB.SU4 MI.AD.SU4 PÙ.ŠA-Ma-ma Ra-bí-ì-lum

Anm. [158] [159] [160] [161] [162] [163] [164] [165] [166] [167] [168]

ARES 1

StP 16 40.6a

30.4a 299

295

39.2e 30.5a

W. Sommerfeld, Prä-Akkadisch…

103

In der folgenden Belegzusammenstellung steht RA 73 verkürzt für den dort S. 1– 22 veröffentlichten Text, zu dem die Neuedition von Wilcke 1996:47–67, zu vergleichen ist. [158] BIN 8, 39 iv 5. [159] RA 73 xvii 11. [160] BIN 8, 34 iii 4; RA 73 ix 16; xvi 25; xvii 7. [161] RA 73 xvii 25. [162] RA 73 xvii 20. [163] MC 4, 4 xvi 16′. [164] MVN 3, 36 passim; RA 73 iii 17; iv 3, 11. [165] BIN 8, 80 iii 10; MC 4, 4 viii 2′; MVN 3, 13 iii 5. [166] RA 73 v 20; xiii 14. [167] RA 73 xvii 30. [168] MVN 3, 36 i 5′; RA 73 xvii 23.

2.6. Kiš Lexeme 463 a-na 464 in

[169] [170]

[169] MAD 5, 25 ii 2; 26 i 5. [170] MAD 5, 38 ii 2′.

Personennamen 465 466 467 468 469 470 471 472 473 474 475 476 477

A-lu-ì-lum Be-lí-x-x Bí-bí È-mi-dEN.ZU I-dì-Aš-tár Ì-clume-GÀR Ì-lum-SAG.NI Il-sù-a-¶a …-Il Pù-pù Sa-dú-ì-lum Sar-NIGIN.NA Su-mu-DI[NGIR]

[171] FAOS 7 VP 9:4. [172] FAOS 7 VP 9:1. [173] MAD 5, 47:2. [174] MAD 5, 64 ii′ 2′. [175] Amiet 1980:947. [176] AAICAB I/1, pl. 8, 1928–441 i 2.

Anm. [171] [172] [173] [174] [175] [176] [177] [178] [179] [180] [181] [182] [183]

ARES 1 124, 131

StP 16 30.4b

135 130 127

128

30.5a 43 30.4a

104

Opening Lectures

[177] Amiet 1980:1074. [178] MAD 5, 90:2!. [179] Amiet 1980:946. [180] MAD 5, 25 ii 6; 26 ii 3. [181] MAD 5, 38 ii 3′. [182] FAOS 7 VP 9:6. [183] MAD 5, 64 iii′ 3′.

2.7. Mari In den nachstehenden Belegzusammenstellungen werden folgende Abkürzungen verwendet: F bzw. MP = FAOS 7, S. 3–26 “Die präsargonischen Inschriften aus Mari”, erschlossen im Glossar FAOS 8; 5 bzw. 6 = Charpin 1987; 1990. Viele Deutungen samt Vergleichsmaterial finden sich bei Gelb 1992: 125–151. Lexeme 478 479 480 481 482 483 484 485 486 487 488 489 490 491 492 493 494 495 496

a-na áš-ti DÙL-sù gi-ti-um i-sù IGI-me IGI-me-sù in ÌR-sù iš má-NE-tum mi-at MU-sù nab-ga-um nab-ra-rutúg nam-KA-rí ´í-tum šè-bum šu

[184] [185] F [186] [187] F F [188] F [189] [190] [191] F [192] [193] [194] [195] [196] [197]

[184] MP 17:6. [185] 5, 66:1, 2; 69:3 passim; 70:4 passim. [186] 5, 72:7 passim; 74:9 ii 1; iv 2. [187] 5, 87:31 iii 4. [188] 5, 68:2 i 5; 71:5 iv 2′; 6 i 3; 73:8 passim; 75–76:11 i 3; iii 2; 76:12 iv 2; F MP 28:4.

W. Sommerfeld, Prä-Akkadisch…

105

[189] 5, 68:2 i 3; iii 2; 71:5 iv 2′; 6 ii 3; 74:9 i 5; v 2; 75:10 iv 1; 78:17 ii 4; 81:22 iii 5; 83:24 iii 7; 84:25 v 5; 85:27 ii 6; 28 i 3, 7. [190] 5, 73:8 i 6; viii 4. [191] 5, 78:18 i 1; 87:31 iv 1; 32 i 1. [192] 5, 76:12 iii 3. [193] 5, 78:18 i 1. [194] 5, 82:23 iii 4. [195] 5, 86:28 v 4. [196] F MP 5:2; anders Steinkeller 1993:240 (PN). [197] 5, 70:4 passim; 74:9 iii 1; 78:16 i 2; 84:26 i 2f.; 85:28 ii 6, 9.

Lexeme aus literarischem Text 497 ir-DA(-)a-LUM 498 qù-ra-dum 499 ù

[198] [199] [200]

[198] QuSem 18, 153 iii′ 3′. [199] QuSem 18, 153 iv′ 6′. [200] QuSem 18, 152–153 i′ 3′f.; iv′ 6′f.

Personennamen 500 501 502 503 504 505 506 507 508 509 510 511 512 513 514 515 516 517 518 519 520 521 522

’À-da-tum ’À-tum-NA.SIG A-bum-GIŠ.ERIM A-dar-a-ba4 A-¶a-tum A-¶i-za-gi A-¶u(RI)-¢a-ab A-ku-a-¶a A-ku-a¶ A-ku-Il A-mu-¢a-ab A-na-da5-rìm AN-ma Ar-ra-DINGIR Ar-si-a-¶a c Are-ši-a-c¶ae Aš-du-ni-ma Ba4-ba4-ì-li BAD-sù-BÀD Be-li-KUR Bí-bí Da-dum Da5-r[úm]

Anm. 5 5 5 [201] 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 F 5 F F [202] 5 5 F 5 5, 6 5 F

ARES 1

StP 16

16.1b

29.1c

106 523 524 525 526 527 528 529 530 531 532 533 534 535 536 537 538 539 540 541 542 543 544 545 546 547 548 549 550 551 552 553 554 555 556 557 558 559 560 561 562 563 564 565 566 567

Opening Lectures Dum-qí-im EN.TI-Il

I-ba4-lum I-dì-Aš-tár I-dì-dI7 I-dì-Da:mu c e I -dì-cIle I-dúr-sum I-¶u-lum I-ku-a-¶a I-ku-dŠa-ma-gan I-ku-dUTU I-kùn-Ma-ríki I-lul-DINGIR I-N[E-…] I-sar-pum I-sar-ra-an I-zi-um Ì-iš-ì-lum Ì-lum-a-pir6 Ib-bu-bu Ib-lul-Il Ìr-ì-bum Iš12-gi4-Ma-rí Kà-ra-na Kir-ba-núm Ku-ba-rúm Kùn-BÀD La-i-mu La-la La-li Ma-ku-rí Ma-la-i-zi Ma-si-gi-be-li Me-sar MI-lu-lu Mi-su-wa Mi-SU4 Mí-ma-¶ir-sù Na-ga-[x]-tum Na-nu-im Pù-pù PÙ.ŠA-dMa-lik Ra-bí-DINGIR Ra-b[í]-I[l]

5 F 5 5 F 5 F 5 5 5 F [203] F 5 [204] [205] 5 5 [206] 5 [207] F 5 F 5 5 [208] F 5 [209] 5 5 5 5 5 5 [210] [211] F 5 5 5 5 [212] 5

30.4b

17.1 17.1

17.11 17.11 17.11 43 24.6e

24.6a

33.1

30.5a

W. Sommerfeld, Prä-Akkadisch… 568 569 570 571 572 573 574 575

Sá-ba Su-ma-LAGAB Su-wa-d[a] Šu-Da-mu U9-´í-i-sar UR-ba-LUM d UR- UTU.ŠA Zi-ra

107

[213] 5 [214] 5 5 5 F [215]

Soweit nicht anders angegeben, sind die Belege in den Indizes (FAOS 8, 29–71, bzw. Charpin 1987:97–99) zu finden. [201] 6, 248:40 iii′ 6. [202] F MP C 1, 8. [203] F, Archi–Biga 2003:31. [204] F MP 34, 2′. [205] F MP 16, 1!. [206] 6, 248:40 iv′ 1. [207] 6, 248:40 iii′ 8. [208] F MP 21, 1!. [209] 6, 249:41 ii 4′. [210] 5; 6, 245:38 iii 7. [211] 6, 248:40 iii′ 2, 4. [212] 6, 249:41 iii 2′. [213] F MP 23, 1. [214] F MP 10, 3. [215] 5; 6, 248:40 ii′ 111′.

Götternamen 576 Aš-tár 577 dA-bir5-tum 578 dBa-surx(ÚI×MAŠ)-ra-at 579 dIl-Úa-lam 580 dINANNA-´arx(SUM)-bat 581 dNIN-tá-ra-at 582 dNIN-[x]-¶a-da-núm 583 dRa-sa-pá-an 584 Ôarx(SUM)-batki

5 5 [216] 5 5 F 5 5 5

Soweit nicht anders angegeben, sind die Belege in den Indizes (FAOS 8, 23, bzw. Charpin 1987:99f.) zu finden. [216] ZA 74, 165.

Monatsnamen 585 586

ITU ITU

gi-NI ¶a-li

[217] [218]

108 587 588 589 590 591 592 593 594

Opening Lectures i-ba4-sa i-ik ITU i-ik-za ITU i-rí-sá ITU i-si ITU ik-za ITU za-’à-tum ITU za-lul ITU ITU

[219] [220] [221] [222] [223] [224] [225] [226]

[217] 5, 72:7 iii 6; 87:31 iv 3; 6, 245:38Rs.:1; 248:40 v′ 1. [218] 5, 72:7 v 3; 78:16 ii 1; 88:33 iv 1. [219] 5, 74:9 iii 5; 75:10 ii 5; 76:12 vi 1; 83:24Rs.; 89:37, 3′. [220] 5, 84:26 vi 1. [221] 5, 84:25 vii 1; 86:28 vi 1. [222] 5, 76:11 ii 1; 82:23 v 1; 6, 249:41Rs.:1. [223] 5, 73:8 vi 2; 85:27 v 1; 6, 248:39Rs.:1. [224] 5, 73:8 x 1; 74:9 vi 2; 75:10 vi 1; 78:17 v 1; 80–81:21 ii 6; iv 1. [225] 5, 81:22Rs.:1. [226] 5, 71:5 vi 1′; 74:9 ii 3; 76:12 iii 6.

2.8. Nippur Zu den prä- und frühsargonischen Texten aus Nippur s. ECTJ, S. 9f.; OSP 1, S. 3f. Lexeme 595 gišzi-ri-LUM 596 ra-šum 597 túg¶a-la-um/¶a-la-umtúg 598 za-tum

[227] [228] [229] [230]

[227] ECTJ 146:2. [228] ECTJ 125:1; 156:1. [229] ECTJ 103:1; 104 ii 2; 106:4; 107:2; 114:1. [230] ECTJ 125:2; 156:2; 157 ii 4, 5; OSP 1, 82 i 4.

Personennamen Anm. 599 600 601 602 603 604 605

A-ba-ì-[lum?] A-ba-la-du A-bí-bí A-bí-¢ab4 A-bum-BAL A-bum-Da-gan A-¶i-¢a-ba

[231]

ARES 1

StP 16 30.4a

40.6a 30.5c 30.4a 40.6a

W. Sommerfeld, Prä-Akkadisch… 606 607 608 609 610 611 612 613 614 615 616 617 618 619 620 621 622 623 624 625 626 627 628 629 630 631 632 633 634 635 636 637 638 639 640 641 642 643 644 645 646 647 648 649 650

A-¶[i-…] A-¶u(RI)-da-mi-iq A-¶u(RI)-DU10 A-¶u(RI)-GIŠ.ERIM A-¶u(RI)-¢ab4(URUDU) A-¶u(RI)-[…] A-ma-ì-lum A-NE-da A-NI-NI Á-ba-la-du Á/It-tu Ap-ra-Il Áp-lum Aš-tár-BÀD Aš-t[á]r?-x [dE]N.ZU-al-sù d EN.ZU-al6-sù d UTU-a-bí Da-bí Da-da Dar-ma-Il E-li-li È-a-ra-bí È-a-sar È-gu-Da-gan È-li-um È-NI-NI En-bí-Aš-tár En-na-Il En-na5-Il En-ni-Ma-ma Ga-lí-lum Ga-zi-ra GAL-PÙ-Aš-tár Gan-dKIŠ ÚAR.TU ÚAR.TU-TUR I-bí-ì-lum I-bí-lum I-bí-[x] I-da-ì-lum I-cdae-Il I-ku-Il I-lu5-lu5 I-lul-DINGIR

109

[232] 236 237 [233] [234]

40.6a 40.6a 30.5a 40.6a 30.4a 40.6a 21.2

195

43

223

29.1c

[235]

230 229

29.1c 29.1c 29.1a

[236]

198

43 43 30.5a 30.4c

232 [237] [238]

129 199 200 201

37.1 22.4i 22.4i 22.4i 29.1c 32.1c

[239]

[240]

202 203

17.5

206

25.2c 25.2c 17.11

207

43

110

Opening Lectures

651 652 653 654 655 656 657 658 659 660 661 662 663 664 665 666 667 668

I-ni-lum I-pi-ì-lum I-rí-iš I-sar-BAD I-sar-šum I-sar-um I-ša-ni-KA.GA I-ti-da-gal Í-zi Ì-lí-a-¶i Ì-lí-¶i Ì-lí-pi-lí Ì-lu-lu Ì-lú-lú Ì-lum-al-sù Ì-lum-BA Ì-lum-ba-ni Ì-lum-BAL

669 670 671 672 673 674 675 676 677 678 679 680 681 682 683 684 685 686 687 688 689 690 691 692 693 694

Ì-lum-GÀR Ì-lum-i-pi Ì-lum-kà-bar Ì-lum-KALAG Ì-lum-ra-bí Ì-l[um-x-x] Ì-rí-iš Ib-lul-Il Ib-ni-pi-lí c e Il -su-ra-bí Il-su-su IR11-sú-ni Iš-lul-Il Iš-me-ì-lum Iš-me-lum Iš-¢up-Il Ku-tum La-mu-UD La-qì-pum La-UD-NI LÚ-si-LUM LUGAL-a-mi LUGAL-da-na LUGAL-mu-da Ma-ma-¶i¶ir Ma-ni

204

43 43 29.1a

233

29.1a

[242]

220 211 212 208

[243]

209 197

[241]

210

205

43 29.1c 43 30.1b 30.5c 39.2d 30.5a 43 30.5a 30.5a 30.5a

24.6a 17.2

[244] 43 214 215 216 213 239

43 24.6a 24.6a 24.1b

[245] 240

[246] [247]

29.1a 30.5a

W. Sommerfeld, Prä-Akkadisch… 695 696 697 698 699 700 701 702 703 704 705 706 707 708 709 710 711 712 713 714 715 716 717 718 719 720 721 722 723 724 725 726 727 728 729 730 731 732 733 734 735 736 737 738 739

Ma-csikie Ma-ŠÚ+SA-gi4-su Mi-la-ba Na-¶a-iš NI.LI.ASARI NI-NI Nu-PI-ì-lum Pi-lí-lí Pù-Ma-ma Pù-pù Pù-su PÙ.ŠA-Aš-tár PÙ.ŠA-dEn-líl PÙ.ŠA-Ma-ma PÙ.ŠA-pi-lí PÙ.ŠA-ra PÙ.ŠA-[…] Qí-šum Ra-bí-ì-lum Sar-ÚA.LU.ÚB Sar-um-GI SI.A-um Si-AZ Si-cìe-lí Si-KUL.BA Su4-i-bí Su4-ma-BA Ša-na-pum Ša-ra-ga Šu-Aš-tár Šu-da-[x] Šu-Dur-ùl Šu-cì-lí-sue Šu-Ma-ma Šu-x-[x-u]m Tab5(URUDU)-rí-tum Tàš-¢up-pá Tu-´ix(ÁB.ŠÀ)-a U-il Ú-il?(TUM) Ú-Ma-ma Ù-mu-NI-NI U9(EZEN×AN)-bar-tum U9(EZEN×ÚAL)-LAGAB Um-ma

111

[248]

[249] [250]

221 225

224 231 227 234 235 238 217

43 43 43 43 32.1c

39.2e 39.2e 39.2e 39.2e

30.5a 30.5a

29.1b

37.3

228

37.3 37.3

[251] [252] [253]

218 219 226 43

112 740 741 742 743 744 745 746 747 748 749 750 751 752 753 754 755 756 757

Opening Lectures Um-me Um-mi-mi Um-mi-¢a-bàt Ur-dEN.ZU Ur-dKA.DI Ur-dKIŠ-ra ! Ur-d.šè Šer7-da Ur-Ma-ma UŠ-bum UŠ-rí-bum Wa-mi-tum Za-ma-ru12 Zi-ra Zi-zi Zix(ÁB.ŠÀ)-ra [x]-x-a-tum [x-…]-cdeEN.ZU [x-…-I]l

29.1c 40.6a

[254]

243

[255] [256] [257] [258]

Soweit nicht anders angegeben, sind die Belege im Index OSP 1, S. 75–106 zu finden. [231] ECTJ 35 ii 5. [232] OSP 1, 23 v 25. [233] ECTJ 40 i 3; OSP 1, 27 ii′ 1. [234] OSP 1, 56 ii 4′. [235] Unver., s. ARES 1, 115:229. [236] StP SM 16, 309, Anm. 12. [237] RIME 1.14.17:1, 10. [238] ECTJ 219 iii′ 3; FAOS 5/II 235 AnNip. 12:5!; OSP 1, S. 82; RIME 1.8.3. [239] Vgl. Steinkeller 2004a:175. [240] OIP 97, 80:5 i 4′. [241] OIP 97, 80:5 ii 1′. [242] FAOS 5/II 250 AnNip. 46:2. [243] FAOS 5/II 246 AnNip. 37:1!; OSP 1, S. 83. [244] ELTS 30a vii 3′. [245] OSP 1, 23 vii (N 6547) 20. [246] ECTJ 156:4; FAOS 5/II 233 AnNip. 9:3′. [247] Vgl. StP SM 13, 44. [248] S. Steinkeller 1993:241. [249] S. StP SM 16, 262, Anm. 73. [250] ELTS 30a iv 2′; v 3′ (?); FAOS 5/II 230 AnNip. 5:2. [251] OSP 1, 24 iv 7. [252] Vgl. Selz 1993:533f. [253] FAOS 5/II 241 AnNip. 27:3. [254] Vgl. Steinkeller 2004a:175. [255] Vgl. Catagnoti 1998:60.

W. Sommerfeld, Prä-Akkadisch…

113

[256] Vgl. Selz 1993:533f. [257] OSP 1, 120 iv′ 2′. [258] OIP 97, 80:5 iii 1′.

Gottesname 758

d

EN.ZU

[259]

[259] MBI 2 ii 10; iii 8f.; RIME 1.14.20.1 i 22.

Ortsnamen Anm. 759 A-mi-mi(ki) 760 É-AK-Aš-tárki 761 É-Áš-da-ma-Il(ki) 762 É-Da-da(ki) 763 É-Iš-d[a]-ma-I[lki] 764 É-Ma-ma(ki) 765 É-Maš-tum(-ma)ki 766 É-Ri-ZA-NE(ki) 767 É-ŠITA-tumki 768 Si-mur-umki

222 196 196 241 242

Die Belege sind im Index OSP 1, S. 110–114 zu finden.

2.9. Sippar Lexeme 769 770 771 772 773 774 775 776 777 778

[a]-na ap-lu da-da-rí-im i-na-kir in pá-la-ag SÁM-sù šu tu-lá-tim ú-sá-la-tim

[260] FAOS 7 VP 12:4. [261] ELTS 36 ii 8. [262] ELTS 38 i 9. [263] ELTS 36 ii 7. [264] ELTS 38 i 7, 13, 15. [265] ELTS 38 i 9. [266] ELTS 36 i 2. [267] ELTS 38 i 9.

ARES 1

[260] [261] [262] [263] [264] [265] [266] [267] [268] [269]

114

Opening Lectures

[268] ELTS 38 i 11 (“Feld mit Ungeziefer[befall]”, vgl. Sjöberg 2003:561f. zu VE 0295 DU-lá-tum). [269] ELTS 38 i 7.

Personennamen Anm. 779 780 781 782 783 784 785 786 787 788 789 790 791 792 793 794 795 796 797 798

Aš-tár-ra! Be-lí-BAL Be-lí-GÚ Bìl-zum Dar-A-a I-KA-LUM I-ku-tum I-mu-tum Ib-ni-DINGIR KA-Me-er Ma-ki-be-lí Pù-Nu-nu Pù-sa-GAL PÙ.ŠA-ra-ra Rí-i´-DINGIR Su4-be-lí Šu-Aš-tár Šu-ì-li Um-me-DU10 Ur-Ma-ma

ARES 1

StP 16

116 106

17.11

104

17.2

[270]

112

33.1

[271]

118 120 114 109

29.1a 37.3

[272]

Zu den Belegen s. ELTS, S. 163ff. (No. 36, 38). Ergänzungen: [270] FAOS 7 VP 12:1. [272] ELTS 38 ii 4. [271] FAOS 7 VP 12:2.

2.10. Umma Lexem 799 za-al-tum

[273]

[273] DV 5, 42:3!; USP 2:1, 10.

Personennamen Anm. 800 801 802 803

A-bu-BAL A-¶u-¶u A-ÚU.LUM-ma-lí-ik A-¶u-¢ab4(URUDU)

[274] [275]

ARES 1

StP 16

34.2; 40.6a

W. Sommerfeld, Prä-Akkadisch… 804 805 806 807 808 809 810 811 812 813 814 815 816 817 818 819 820 821 822 823 824 825 826 827 828 829 830 831 832 833 834 835 836 837 838 839 840 841 842 843 844 845 846

A-NI-NI A-x-x-um Da-da En-na-LUM Èš-me Èš-me-GÁRA Èš-me-lum Úa-dì Ì-lí-[…] Ì-lí-ASARI Ì-lí-EN-[…] Ì-lí-pi-lí Ì-lu-da Ì-lu-kà-sa-ad Ì-lu-lu(-)SILA-si Ì-lu-SUM-ri Ì-lum-ma--ik Ib-ni-ba/PI!-NI Ib-um c !? Iš -da-ume KA-Ma-ma KAL-ma-LUM La-qipx(GIB) Ma-al-tum-BAL Nu-mu-ra-bi PA-x-a-¶u Pi-[lí?]-ì-lí Pi-lí-lí Pù-su-GI PÙ.ŠA-È-a c PÙ.ŠA-Sa-maše (?) Sar-ru-mu-da Šu-Aš-tár Šu-cme?-NIe Šu-pi-lum c !e U -bíl-Aš-tár Ú-da Ù-mu-NI-NI Um-me Ur-dAš-tár Ur-dKA.DI Ur-dPi-lí Zi-zi

Zu den Belegen s. Foster 1982a:305–315.

115 21.2

[276] 22.4i [277] [278] [279]

24.6a

[280]

[281] [282] [283]

43 29.1a 29.1a 30.5a 43

43

32.1c 30.5a [284]

[285] 43 32.1c 39.2e [286] 30.5a 37.3 37.3 [287] 43

116

Opening Lectures

Ergänzungen: [274] DV 5, 33:8. [275] DV 5, 30:5; USP 4:4. [276] DV 5, 29:8. [277] USP 5:2. [278] Archi–Pomponio–Stol 1999, 19 iii 14. [279] B&B 2, 191:4; DV 5, 44:8. [280] B&B 2, 192:6; DV 5, 48:14. [281] B&B 2, 188 iv 12; JCS 32, 123:2, 3!; RA 8, 158d:3. [282] Durand 1982, pl. 7, 53:2; DV 5, 15 i 5!. [283] DV 5, 33:5, vgl. Hilgert 2002:206f. [284] DV 5, 12:3, s. Steinkeller 1987:191. [285] B&B 2, 192:3. [286] DV 5, 21:5. [287] CHÉU 54 ii 14; DV 5, 15 i 3.

Gottesname 847

d

Ištaran(KA.DI)

[288]

[288] Santag 7, 5 iii 1.

Ortsnamen 848 cBÀDe-Ra-bí-lum-ka 849 Dur-Ib-laki 850 Za-búm

[289] [290] [291]

[289] DV 5, 48:12. [290] DV 5, 10:3. [291] RGTC 1, 192; vgl. Steinkeller 1987:185–187.

2.11. Ur Lexem 851

DAM-sù

[292]

[292] RIME 1.13.8.1:4′.

Personennamen 852 853 854 855 856 857

A-dEN.ZU-gim AN-BU Da-da Da-da-ì-lum Da-na É-li-li

Anm. [293] [294]

ARES 1

StP 16

[295] [296] [297]

282

30.4a

W. Sommerfeld, Prä-Akkadisch… 858 859 860 861 862 863 864 865 866

Úa-la-NI I-bí-a I-zi-ì-lum Ì-lum-qur-ad I[l]-[…] ME-Aš-tár Mu-ti-NE Pù-AD x-lu-lum

117

[298]

287 284 283

[299]

286

[300]

32.1c

Zu den Belegen s. StP SM 13, S. 9, 117–124. Ergänzungen: [293] Iraq 22, 81:26. [294] RIME 1.10.1.2–3. [295] FAOS 5/II AnUr 14:1. [296] Kaskal 2, 61:11 usw. [297] RIME 1.13.9.1:4. [298] UET 1, 4:4. [299] UET 1, 4:2. [300] Amiet 1980:1182.

Gottesname 867

d

EN.ZU

[301]

[301] FAOS 5/II AnUr 14:2; 23:2′.

2.12. Uruk Personenname 868

c

Ì-lí-a-líe (?)

[302]

[302] ZA 72, 168 iv 10′.

2.13. Zabalam Personennamen 869 870 871 872 873 874 875 876 877 878

A-NE-da Da-ad Da-du E-li-ASARI EREN-da-ni Èš-me-lum Ga-cdae-LU[M] Gan-dKIŠ-ra Gu-NI-NI ÚAR-um

Anm. [303] [304] [305] [306] [307] [308] [309] [310] [311] [312]

ARES 1

StP 16 40.6a

24.6a

118 879 880 881 882 883

Opening Lectures Ì-clume-ba-ni Ki-tum La-qip Ur-dEN.ZU Ur-dKIŠ-ra

[313] [314] [315] [316] [317]

30.1c

[303] AOAT 25, pl. III* iv 3; BIN 8, 55 i 5. [304] BIN 8, 78 i 4. [305] BIN 8, 86 ii 6; iv 7; JCS 31, 40 iv 2. [306] BIN 8, 102 i 2. [307] BIN 8, 89:4; 96:3, 7; 104 ii 1; vgl. Steinkeller 1987:191. [308] OrAnt 18, 225 i 9. [309] HUCA 49, 55:20 iii 8. [310] BIN 8, 55 i 7. [311] MVN 3, 3 xiii 5. [312] HUCA 49, 44:8 i 4. [313] BIN 8, 31:2. [314] BIN 8, 116 ii 7. [315] MVN 3, 3 iii 9. [316] BIN 8, 60 i 6. [317] HUCA 49, 53:18 iii 6; OrAnt 18, 225 ii 9.

2.14. Herkunft unbekannt Lexeme 884 885 886 887 888 889 890 891 892

è-tá-su ì/’a5-na in iš-du-du sa-dì-um ša šu ù c ZUe-ba-rí-um

[318] ELTS 35 ii 1′, 5′, 8′. [319] RA 67, 96 iii 8. [320] ELTS 35Rs. ii 13′. [321] ELTS 35Rs. i 10′, 14′, 17′. [322] ELTS 35 ii 9′. [323] RA 67, 96 iv 6. [324] MVN 3, 65 iii 4. [325] ELTS 34 i 2; RA 67, 96 ii 8; iv 1. [326] ELTS 34 ii 8 (Nisbe zu ON?).

Anm. [318] [319] [320] [321] [322] [323] [324] [325] [326]

ARES 1 191

W. Sommerfeld, Prä-Akkadisch…

119

Personennamen 893 894 895 896 897 898 899 900 901 902 903 904 905 906 907 908 909 910 911 912 913 914 915 916 917 918 919 920 921 922 923 924 925 926 927 928 929 930 931 932 933 934

A-bí-bí c e A -¶a-¶a A-¶u-¶u A-¶u-ì-lum A-ku-ì-lum A-rúm A-tá-kál-sù A-za-šum? An-da-be-lí Bí-bí Da-tu-tu Dì-li-lumum c E-mi-dEN.ZUe EN.ZU-LUGAL GA-NI-ZU-ma I-bí-dUTU I-dì I-GU.KU-DINGIR I-ku8-núm I-lu-[lu?] I!-lul-DINGIR I-na-na I-nin-núm I-za-mar I-zi-Il Ì-lí-a-¶i Ì-lí-x-[x] [Ì?]-clu-lue Ì-lum-a-¶a Ì-lum-be-l[í] Ì-lum-GÀR Ì-lum-KALAG Ì-lum-ra-bí [I]b?-lu-DINGIR c Ib-lule-DINGIR Ib-NI-NI Il-GIŠ.ERIM Il-su-ERIM+x c Il-su-sue Il-sù-GÀR Il-ZU-ERIM+x Ìr-ì-bum

Anm. [327] [328] [329] [330] [331] [332] [333] [334] [335] [336] [337] [338] [339] [340] [341] [342] [343] [344] [345] [346] [347] [348] [349] [350] [351] [352] [353] [354] [355] [356] [357] [358] [359] [360] [361] [362] [363] [364] [365] [366] [367] [368]

ARES 1

StP 16

184 150 151

40.7a 43

175 185

192 30.4c 176 110 105

157 178 115 181 161 166 108

29.1a

153 154 107 155 156

30.4a 29.1a 30.5a 30.5a 30.5a

152 177

24.6a

168 170 167 169 180

43 30.5a

120 935 936 937 938 939 940 941 942 943 944 945 946 947 948 949 950 951 952 953 954 955 956 957 958 959 960 961 962 963 964 965 966 967 968

Opening Lectures Iš-lul-DINGIR Iš-lul-Il Iš-má-ì-lum Kál-bum Kar-ki-rúm Ku-ru-ub-dÌr-ra La-mu-um Lu-mi-zi Me-ra-nú[m] Mu-tù-DINGIR Na-mu-ra-[sú] NI-NI PÉŠ-ì-lum Pù-ì-lum Pù-me Pù-pù Pù-su-GI Pù-Sùd PÙ.ŠA-Aš-tár PÙ.ŠA-be-lí PÙ.ŠA-dEn-líl PÙ.ŠA-cdGÁ×SIG7e Pù-za-um Ra-bí-ì-lum c Sáe-lim-a-lum Si-GÀR Su-m[a-m]e-ru Su-mu-dA-a Su4-ma-ra-bí àa-bùm U9-´í-um Um-mi-mi! [x]-x-Aš-tár [x]-x-cra-bíe

[327] MVN 3, 65 iii 2. [328] RA 67, 96 ii 9. [329] BIN 8, 11 i 2; iv 1; MVN 3, 65 i 4. [330] FAOS 7 VP 17:3′. [331] ELTS 28 ii 11′. [332] ELTS 35 ii 3′. [333] BIN 8, 11 iii 7. [334] ELTS 28 ii 12′. [335] Amiet 1980:1717; vgl. Roberts 1972:13f.

[369] [370] [371] [372] [373] [374] [375] [376] [377] [378] [379] [380] [381] [382] [383] [384] [385] [386] [387] [388] [389] [390] [391] [392] [393] [394] [395] [396] [397] [398] [399] [400] [401] [402]

159 158 160 187

43 24.6a

188 189 190 117 165 164 162

43

119

32.1c

171 113 172 173 122 163 174

39.2e 39.2e 39.2e

182 111 183 186 121 193

[336] BIN 8, 11 iii 4. [337] BIN 8, 11 iii 5. [338] BIN 8, 11 iii 3. [339] ELTS 28 ii 10′. [340] YOS 9, 1:1. [341] ELTS 34Rs. i 3. [342] ELTS 35 i 8′. [343] Amiet 1980:1712. [344] ELTS 35 i 6′. [345] Santag 7, 8Rs.:1.

30.5a 40.6a

37.2

29.1c

W. Sommerfeld, Prä-Akkadisch… [346] ELTS 35Rs. ii 14′. [347] MVN 3, 65 iii 3. [348] BIN 8, 11 v 1. [349] ELTS 35 ii 10. [350] MVN 3, 65 i 5. [351] BIN 8, 11 ii 8. [352] BIN 8, 11 iii 6. [353] ELTS 35Rs. ii 15′. [354] ELTS 34 i 10. [355] BIN 8, 11 iv 6. [356] FAOS 7 VP 17:4′. [357] ELTS 35 i 3′. [358] MVN 3, 65 i 3. [359] BIN 8, 11 iv 4; vi 2. [360] ELTS 35Rs. i 15′. [361] ELTS 28 ii 3′. [362] RA 67, 96 ii 7. [363] ELTS 34 ii 9. [364] VO 6, 27:2. [365] RA 67, 96 i 3′. [366] BIN 8, 11 ii 4. [367] ELTS 34 iv 10. [368] MVN 3, 65 i 2; ii 4. [369] MVN 3, 65 ii 1. [370] BIN 8, 11 vi 5. [371] BIN 8, 11 ii 7; v 7; VO 6, 27:1. [372] BIN 8, 11 i 3; v 5. [373] ELTS 35 ii 7′. [374] ZA 77, 176 mit Anm. 21 (A 7115:5).

121

[375] BIN 8, 11 i 9; iii 2. [376] MVN 3, 65 iii 1. [377] ZA 69, 124f. [378] FAOS 7 VP 17:8′. [379] ELTS 35 ii 4′. [380] MVN 3, 65 iii 6. [381] BIN 8, 11 v 3. [382] MVN 3, 65 ii 4. [383] RA 67, 96 i 6′. [384] ELTS 34 ii 1; iii 3. [385] ELTS 35 i 4′. [386] BIN 8, 11 iii 1. [387] RA 67, 96 ii 5. [388] ELTS 35Rs. i 12′. [389] BIN 8, 11 v 8. [390] ELTS 28 i 3′. [391] ELTS 35Rs. i 11′. [392] ELTS 34 iv 8. [393] ELTS 28 i 6′. [394] Buchanan 1981:317. [395] ASJ 13, 184:2. [396] ELTS 35Rs. i 13′. [397] MVN 3, 65 ii 2. [398] MVN 3, 65 iii 5. [399] ELTS 35 i 5′, 7′. [400] MVN 3, 65 iv 2. [401] ELTS 35Rs. i 16′. [402] ELTS 28 i 4′.

Ortsnamen 969 Úur-rúm 970 Ter5-qí-um

Anm. [403] [404]

[403] ELTS 34Rs. i 2. [404] MVN 3, 65 iv 1.

2.15. Herkunft unbekannt (Sumer) Lexeme 971 ù 972 za-tum [405] MC 4, 10:5. [406] Santag 7, 195:2, 5.

[405] [406]

ARES 1 179

122

Opening Lectures

Personennamen 973 974 975 976 977 978 979 980 981 982 983 984 985 986 987 988 989 990 991 992 993 994 995 996 997 998 999

A-NI-NI Al-ì-li Da-da ÚAR.TU I-bí-Il I-da-Il I-mi-DINGIR Ì-lí-EN.NUN Ì-lum-GIŠ.ERIM Ì-lum-KA.NI Ì-NI-NI Il-su c IR11e-sú-ni Iš-c¢upe-Il La-la Ma-la-Aš-tár Ma-ni(-)ÚA.A NI-NI Nin-giš-da-na-ni Pù-gul Su4-pi-lí Tàš-c¢up-pá!e Ú-il c e Ú -KA-il UD-sa Ur-Ap-ra Ur-dEN.ZU

[407] AAICAB I/1, pl. 1a iii 2. [408] BIN 8, 46 i 5. [409] BIN 8, 17 ii 2. [410] AAICAB I/1, pl. 1a ii 2; b iv 6; pl. 2c i 3. [411] MC 4, 8 iv 3. [412] CT 50, 48 ii 8; Pettinato 1997:8 i 5!. [413] Pettinato 1997:8Rs. ii 3. [414] Pettinato 1997:8 v Rs. ii 8!. [415] Pettinato 1997:9 i 1. [416] BIN 8, 36 iii 1. [417] BIN 8, 16 ii 4. [418] BIN 8, 41:2. [419] BIN 8, 68 ii 12. [420] BIN 8, 12 ii 2.

Anm. [407] [408] [409] [410] [411] [412] [413] [414] [415] [416] [417] [418] [419] [420] [421] [422] [423] [424] [425] [426] [427] [428] [429] [430] [431] [432] [433]

ARES 1

StP 16 21.2 21.2

25.2c

290 297

43 43

294

24.1b

298 43

[421] MC 4, 12 iii 4. [422] Unver., s. ARES 1, 116:298. [423] CT 50, 48 iv 7. [424] Pettinato 1997:8 iv 2. [425] MC 4, 10:4, s. Wilcke 2007:61, Anm. 186. [426] MC 4, 9 iii 8. [427] MC 4, 8 i 2. [428] MC 4, 8 iv 2. [429] AAICAB I/1, pl. 1bRs. ii 8. [430] Pettinato 1997:3 iii 3!. [431] MVN 3, 94 iii 2. [432] MC 4, 9 iv 3. [433] BIN 8, 14 ii 3′.

W. Sommerfeld, Prä-Akkadisch…

123

Gottesname 1000

d

Ištaran(KA.DI)

[434]

[434] RIME 1.12.6.2:14, 62, 65, 81.

3. Syllabar Die Zuordnung der Syllabogramme folgt in der Regel den “konventionellen Lesungen”, die Borger (2004) zugrunde legt, so daß die Kompatibilität mit diesem Referenzwerk und der späteren Tradition gewahrt ist.12 A

A-A Á

Á

(IT) AB

AB AP ÈŠ

ÁB

ÁB

ÁB.ŠÀ

Ô Íx

ÁP ZIx AD

AD

AT AG AÚ AL

AL

MÁÚ AN

AR ARAD ASARI

ÌR

Am Silbenanfang /’a/ passim (ca. 100×), nach Vokal I-a-É (455), I-bí-a (859), Ì-a-ki-na-ni (378), Tu-´ix(ÁB.ŠÀ)-a (732), s. É-a, È-a (zur Wiedergabe von /j/). c e A -a-um(-KU.LI) (26), Dar-A-a (783), Su-mu-dA-a (962). Á-na (109), Á-ba-la-du (615). Á/It-tu (616). A-¶u(RI)-¢a-ab (506), A-mu-¢a-ab (510), MI.AB.SU4 (459). ap-lu (770). Ap-ra-Il (617), Ur-Ap-ra (104, 285, 387, 998). Èš-me (808), Èš-me-GÁRA (809), Èš-me-lum (810, 874). Áb-d[a] (394). Áp-lum (618). Tu-´ix(ÁB.ŠÀ)-a (732). Zix(ÁB.ŠÀ)-ra (754). Ad-da-LUM (315), Da-ad (870), EZEN-qar-ra-ad (328), Ì-lu-kàsa-ad (817), Ì-lum-qur-ad (861). MI.AD.SU4 (460), MI.SU4.AD (240, 417), Pù-AD (865). mi-at (11, 489). d Ba-surx(ÚI×MAŠ)-ra-at (578), dNIN-tá-ra-at (581). pá-la-ag (774). A-ku-a¶ (508). a[l] (14), za-al-tum (799). Al-ì-li (974), dBa4-al (140), [dE]N.ZU-al-sù (621), Ì-lum-al-sù (665), Ma-al-tum-BAL (827). Aš-mᶠ(186). An-da-be-lí (901), dRa-sa-pá-an (583), I-sar-ra-an (539). AN-BU (853), AN-KALAG (181), AN-ma (395, 512), AN-ma-tum (265), AN-má-ti (138), AN-mu-da (182), AN-tum (139), Ib-ANmud (71), LAGAB-da-AN (301). A-ar-[x] (363), A-¶a-ar-si (27), Ar-NI-ba (110), Ar-ra-DINGIR (513), Ar-rúm (111), Ar-si-a-¶a (514), cAre-ši-a-c¶ae (515). Ìr-DU?-[…] (298), Ìr-ì-bum (334, 545, 934), Ku-ru-ub-dÌr-ra (940), s. a. UŠ. E-li-ASARI (872), Ì-lí-ASARI (813), NI.LI.ASARI (699).

12 Zu einigen Besonderheiten des frühen Schriftsystems vgl. Krebernik 1998: 271–284, zum Syllabar unter Einbeziehung weiterer syllabographischer Schreibweisen l. c. 284–298.

124

Opening Lectures

AŠ

ÁŠ

ÁŠ

TÀŠ AZ BA

BA

PÁ BAD

BAD BAT BE

BÀD

BÀT U9

BAR BI BÍL BÌL BU

BU SU13

DA

DA

Aš-da-da (34), Aš-du-ni-ma (516), Aš?-má? (183), Aš?-má?-sar (184), Aš-ma¶ (185), Aš-mᶠ(186), Aš?-rúm (35), Zi-lú-ašda (360), passim in Aš-tár (33×). áš-te4 (313), áš-ti (479). Áš-mud (36), Áš-tá-Il (189), Áš-tám-Il (190), É-Áš-da-ma-Il(ki) (761). Tàš-ni-tum (435), Tàš-¢up-pá (731, 994). Az-bum (113), Az-za-bum (114), Si-AZ (717). A-ba-ì-[lum?] (599), A-ba-la-du (600), A-¶i-¢a-ba (605), Á-bala-du (615), Ar-NI-ba (110), Aš-tár-la-ba (364), Ba-ir-x-[t]um (453), Ba-lu5-lu5 (115), Ba-lum-ì-l[um] (37), dBa-surx(ÚI×MAŠ)ra-at (578), dKù-rib-ba (151, 267), Ì-lum-ba-ni (667, 879), Kirba-núm (548), Ku-ba-rúm (549), Mi-la-ba (697), NI-ba-¶i-li (243), Qí-bi-ba-la-¢ì (423), Sá-ba (568), Si-KUL.BA (719), URba-LUM (573), ZU-ba-rí-um (892). A-lum-BA (390), Ì-lum-BA (666), Su4-ma-BA (721). pá-la-ag (774). d Ra-sa-pá-an (583), Tàš-¢up-pá (731, 994). BAD-sù-BÀD (518), dBAD-ŠINIG (142), I-sar-BAD (654), Iš-gaBAD (85), Šum-BAD (312). d INANNA-´arx(SUM)-bat (580), Ôarx(SUM)-batki (584). be-li-sù (309). Be-li-KUR (519), Ma-si-gi-be-li (556), in be-lí (BAD-lí) oft. Um-mi-¢a-bàt (742). U9(EZEN×AN)-bar-tum (737), U9(EZEN×ÚAL)-LAGAB (738), U9-´í-i-sar (572), U9-´í-um (965). d Da-bar (143), I-me!(BAR)-ERIM+x (66), Ì-lum-kà-bar (671), U9(EZEN×AN)-bar-tum (737). Bi-li-li (191, 275), Nu-mu-ra-bi (828), Qí-bi (422), Qí-bi-ba-la¢ì (423), Si-bi-tum (348), Su4-a-bi (248). BÍL-I[l] (39), U!-bíl-Aš-tár (839). Bìl-zum (782). A-bu-BAL (800), AN-BU (853), I-BU-NI (208), Ib-bu-bu (543). I-su13-BAL (123), Su13-ma-a-¶a (99). da-da-rí-im (771), ir-DA(-)a-LUM (497). Da-ad (870), Da-da (41, 194, 276, 398, 454, 625, 806, 854, 975), Da-da-ì-lum (855), É-Da-da(ki) (762), Da-du (871), DA-DUlul (195, 399), Da-dum (117, 196, 327, 521), Da-tu-tu (903). d Da-bar (143), Da-bí (624), daSIG5 (118), A-¶u(RI)-da-mi-iq (607), Da-na (400, 856), LUGAL-da-na (691), Nin-giš-da-na-ni (991), dDa-rí(-x?) (144). A-bum-Da-gan (604), È-gu-Da-gan (630). I-dì-Da:mu (528), Šu-Da-mu (571), Šu-da-[x] (725). ’À-da-tum (500), A-NE-da (392, 613, 869), Áb-d[a] (394), Adda-LUM (315), An-da-be-lí (901). AN-mu-da (182), LUGAL-mu-da (692), Sar-ru-mu-da (835). Aš-da-da (34), É-Áš-da-ma-Il(ki) (761), É-Iš-d[a]-ma-I[lki] (763). EREN-da-ni (873), Ga-da-LU[M] (875), Gu-da-ì-lí (329), Ida-ì-lum (646), I-da-Il (647, 978), I-ti-da-gal (658), Ì-lu-da (816), Iš!?-da-um (823), LAGAB-da-AN (301), dNIN-[x]-¶a-

W. Sommerfeld, Prä-Akkadisch…

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125

da-núm (582), Su-wa-d[a] (570), Ú-da (436, 840), Ur-d.šèŠer7da (259, 439, 746), Zi-lú-aš-da (360), [x]-iš-da (321). è-tá-su (884). A-tá-kál-sù (899), Áš-tá-Il (189), dNIN-tá-ra-at (581). A-¶i-¢a-ba (605), A-¶u(RI)-¢a-ab (506), A-mu-¢a-ab (510), àabùm (964), Um-mi-¢a-bàt (742). Áš-tám-Il (190). A-dar-a-ba4 (503), Dar-A-a (783), Dar-ma-Il (626). oft in Aš-tár. Na-DI-nu (241), in Ištaran (dKA.DI). ITU i-rí-sá (590), ú-sá-la-tim (778). Sá-ba (568), Sá-lim-a-lum (959). Me-salim (165, 272, 416). tu-lá-tim (777), ú-sá-la-tim (778). iš-du-du (887). A-ba-la-du (600), Á-ba-la-du (615), Aš-du-ni-ma (516), Da-du (871), DA-DU-lul (195, 399), dDu-du (145), E-du-iá (197), I-dì-GAN.DU (271), Ma-ma-DU (412), Si-PI-DU (430). Mu-tù-DINGIR (944). DUB-si-ga (373). Iš-¢up-dKA.DI (88), Iš-¢up-DINGIR.DINGIR (381), Iš-¢up-Il (89, 230, 284, 299, 382, 684, 986), Tàš-¢up-pá (731, 994). Kál-búm (410), Za-búm (850). Dur-Ib-laki (849), Šu-Dur-ùl (726), Ti-dur (101). d E-lum (266), dE-lum-àga-zi (261), dE-lum-[an]-dùl (262),  Sag!-dE-lum-da (264), Ur-dE-lum (258). E-du-iá (197), E-li-ASARI (872), E-li-li (627), E-mi-dEN.ZU (905). ITU za-’à-tum (164, 593). ’À-da-tum (500), ’À-la-LUMx(ZU/ZU+SAR) (168), ’À-LUM (169), ’À-LUMx(ZU/ZU+SAR) (170), ’À-na (171), ’À-na-lu (172), ’À-nalu-lu (173), ’À-nam (174), [’À-nu]-NI (105), ’À-tum-NA.SIG (501). d  É (146), I-a-É (455), I-dì-É (55), I-[Ú]I?-É (210), Im-lik-É (81), Im-rí-iš-É (82), PÙ.ŠA-É (95), [Š]u?-É-a (352). É-li-li (401, 857), É-lu-lu (5), É-Ma-ma (278). DINGIR-en-ni (277), En-bí-Aš-tár (633), En-gi (198), En-na-Il (42, 279, 317, 322, 374, 634), En-na5-Il (635), En-na-LUM (807), En-na-na (43), En-ni-Ma-ma (636), Mi-en-nu (93). d Zu-en (157, 167, 270), dZu-en-MUD (193), Amar-dZu-en (32, 180, 274), Ur-dZu-en (306). d EN.ZU (447, 758, 867), [dE]N.ZU-al-sù (621), dEN.ZU-al6-sù (622), EN.ZU-LUGAL (906), A-dEN.ZU-gim (852), E-mi-dEN.ZU (905), È-mi-dEN.ZU (468), Ur-dEN.ZU (357, 743, 882, 999). Amar-dSu-en (316), PÙ.ŠA-dEN.SU (418). Za-ma-ru12 (751). EREN-da-ni (873). Eš?-še-šu (199). EZEN-qar-ra-ad (328). Ma-¶ir (458), Ma-ma-¶i¶ir (693), Mí-ma-¶ir-sù (561).

126 GA

Opening Lectures GA

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nab-ga-um (491). Ga-da-LU[M] (875), Ga-lí-lum (637), GA-NI-ZU-ma (907), Ga-ri (119, 200), Ga-ri-NI (201), Ga-zi-ra (638), DUB-si-ga (373), I-dì-dŠa-gagan (53), I-ša-ni-KA.GA (657), Iš-ga-BAD (85), Na-ga-[x]-tum (562), Ša-ra-ga (723). d Kà-kà (150), Ì-lu-kà-sa-ad (817), Ì-lum-kà-bar (671), Kà-la-suni (457), Kà-ra-na (547). La-qá-tum (340), Qaq-qá-ra(ki) (159). ITU i-ba4-sa (587). A-dar-a-ba4 (503), Ba4-ba4-ì-li (517), dBa4-al (140), dBa4-li-¶a (141), I-ba4-lum (525), Su-ma-a-ba4 (97), Šu-a-ba4 (249). GÁ-za-za (6). GAG-zi-um (202). Qaq-qá-ra(ki) (159). GAL-PÙ-Aš-tár (639), I-ti-da-gal (658), Pù-sa-GAL (791). A-tá-kál-sù (899), Kál-bum (338, 938), Kál-búm (410). A-bum-Da-gan (604), È-gu-Da-gan (630), I-dì-dŠa-gagan (53), I-dì-GAN.DU (271), I-ku-dŠa-ma-gan (533), Ur-dŠa-ma!-gan (307). d GÁRA (147), Èš-me-GÁRA (809). Aš-tár-GÀR (187), Ì-lum-GÀR (69, 215, 470, 669, 923), Il-suGÀR (75), Il-sù-GÀR (932), Si-GÀR (960), UR.SAG-GÀR (137). EZEN-qar-ra-ad (328). gi-ti-um (481), ITU gi-NI (585). A-¶i-za-gi (505), dSar-gi-me-ru (155), En-gi (198), Gi-num (402), I-gi-ì-lum (57), I-ku-GI (211), I-rí ?-gi (213), Ib-gi-NE (217), Ma-si-gi-be-li (556), Pù-su-GI (832, 951), Sar-um-GI (715). La-qì-pum (687), Qì-šum (366). I-gi4-ì-lum (58), Iš11-gi4-me-ru (129), Iš12-gi4-Ma-rí (546), Ma-ŠÚ+SA-gi4-su (696). La-qipx(GIB) (826). i-na-kir (772), Kir-ba-núm (548). Rí-i´-DINGIR (793). È-gu-Da-gan (630), Gu-da-ì-lí (329), Gu-NI-NI (877), Gu-NIsum (45), I-gu-ì-lí (281), I-GU.KU-DINGIR (910), [I]-GU.KU[I]l (293), I-KU.GU-Il (62, 376), I-ši-x?-gu-NI-x (67). I-ku8-núm (911). qù-ra-dum (498). gú-lu¶-¶a!? (16). Pù-gul (992). Ì-lum-qur-ad (861). gú-lu¶-¶a!? (16), ITU ¶a-li (586), túg¶a-la-um/¶a-la-umtúg (597). A-¶a-ar-si (27), A-¶a-¶a (894), A-ku-a-¶a (507), Ar-si-a-¶a (514), Ar-ši-a-¶a (515), I-ku-a-¶a (61, 532), Ì-lum-a-¶a (68, 456, 921), [I]l-su-a-¶a (74), Il-sù-a-¶a (76, 472), Ìr(UŠ)bí-a-¶a (83), Su-ma-a-¶a (98), Su13-ma-a-¶a (99). Ì-lum-ÚA.A (296), Ma-ni(-)ÚA.A (989). A-¶a-lum (175), A-¶a-ti (389), A-¶a-tum (504), AN.R[U?.X?]-¶aLA[M] (33), dBa4-li-¶a (141), dÚa-rí-ur-sag (40), dIl-Úa-lam (579),

W. Sommerfeld, Prä-Akkadisch… d

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NIN-[x]-¶a-da-núm (582), Úa-bil (403), Úa-dì (811), Úa-la-NI (858), Úa-ni-lum (204), Na-¶a-iš (698), Sar-ÚA.LU.ÚB (714). A-¶ar-ši (176), dLa-¶ar (268), ME-ÚAR-ši (235). ÚAR-KA (46), ÚAR-um (878). ÚAR.TU (47, 166, 205, 280, 365, 404, 641, 976), ÚAR.TUd Nisaba (48), ÚAR.TU-dSùd (206), ÚAR.TU-TUR (207, 642). Úur-rúm (969). Si-mur-umki (768). A-¶i-¢a-ba (605), A-¶i-za-gi (505), Ì-lí-a-¶i (660, 918), Ì-lí-¶i (661). ¶i ÚI-la-ì-lum (49), I-[Ú]I?-É (210), Ma-ma- ¶ir (693), NI-ba-¶i-li (243). d Ba-surx(ÚI×MAŠ)-ra-at (578). A-¶u(RI)-da-mi-iq (607), A-¶u(RI)-DU10 (608), A-¶u(RI)GIŠ.ERIM (609), A-¶u-¶u (801, 895), A-¶u-ì-lum (896), A-¶uNE (106), A-¶u(RI)-SIG5 (452), A-¶u(RI)-¢a-ab (506), A-¶u(RI)-¢ab4 (610), A-¶u-¢ab4 (803), A-¶u(RI)-[…] (611). A-ÚU.LUM-ma-lí-ik (802), Úu-dì-um (50), I-¶u-lum (531), PA-x-a-¶u (829). Am Wortanfang (meist als Konj.-präfix) in Namen passim (ca. 100×). i-ma (17), i-na-kir (772), i-sù (482), ITU i-ik (588), ITU i-ik-za (589). La-i-mu (551), Ma-la-i-zi (555); im Wechsel mit anderen Syllabogrammen: I-a-É (455), I-na-Il (212), I-na-na (914), I-rí-iš (653). Í-zi (659). E-du-iá (197). Dur-Ib-laki (849), Ib-AN-mud (71), Ib-bu-bu (543), Ib-gi-NE (217), Ib-li (124), [I]b?-lu-DINGIR (926), Ib-lul-DINGIR (927), Ib-lul-Il (332, 544, 676), Ib-mud (408), Ib-ni-ba/PI!-NI (821), Ib-niDINGIR (787), Ib-NI-NI (928), Ib-ni-pi-lí (677), Ib-um (822). ITU i-ik (588), ITU i-ik-za (589), ITU ik-za (592). A-ÚU.LUM-ma-lí-ik (802), Ì-lum-ma--ik (820). A-¶u(RI)-da-mi-iq (607).  Sá-lim-a-lum (959). A-¶ar-ši (176), Ar-ši-a-¶a (515), I-ši-x?-gu-NI-x (67), MEÚAR-ši (235). als GN passim, unsichere und weitere Belege: Il-su-su (679, 931), Il-tu-tu (226), Il-zu-zu (80), KA.IL(-ma) (409), Ú-KA-il (996), U-il (733), Ú-il (3, 273, 734?, 995). da-da-rí-im (771), li-im (10). Im-dum (126), Im-lik-É (81), Im-lik-Il (127), Im-li[k?-x] (297), Im-mar (128), Im-rí-iš-É (82). Dum-qí-im (523), I-dúr-la-im (375), I-IM.NI-RÚM (59), Na-nuim (563). in (9, 20, 314, 369, 464, 485, 773, 886). Ra-ì-si-in (347). KA-Me-er (788). ir-DA(-)a-LUM (497), Ba-ir-x-[t]um (453).

128

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iš (487), iš-du-du (887). Iš !?-da-um (823), Iš-ga-BAD (85), Iš-lul-DINGIR (935), Išlul-Il (86, 227, 681, 936), Iš-má-ì-lum (87, 937), Iš-me-ì-lum (283, 682), Iš-me-lum (228, 683), Iš-pi-lum (229), Iš-¢upd KA.DI (88), Iš-¢up-DINGIR.DINGIR (381), Iš-¢up-Il (89, 230, 284, 299, 382, 684, 986), Iš-x-[x] (336). Be-lí-iš-li (326), É-Iš-d[a]-ma-I[lki] (763), Ì-iš-ì-lum (541), I-rí-iš (653), Ì-rí-iš (675), Il-iš-x (319), Im-rí-iš-É (82), Na-¶a-iš (698), [x]-iš-da (321). àa-bùm (964). nam-KA-rí (493). ÚAR-KA (46), I-KA-LUM (60, 784), I-ša-ni-KA.GA (657), Ì-lum-KA.NI (982), KA.IL(-ma) (409), KA-Ma-ma (337, 824), KA-Me-er (788), Šu-d[x]-KA (351), Ú-KA-il (996). Zú-lá-lum (8, 260). d Ištaran (149, 847, 1000), Iš-¢up-dKA.DI (88), Ur-dKA.DI (744, 844). KAL-ma-LUM (825). A-lum-KALAG (391), AN-KALAG (181), Ì-lum-KALAG (407, 672, 924). d Kù-rib-ba (151, 267). Kar-ki-rúm (939). Ì-a-ki-na-ni (378), Kar-ki-rúm (939), Ki-núm (130), Ki-tum (880), Ma-ki-be-lí (789). Dum-qí-im (523), Qí-bi (422), Qí-bi-ba-la-¢ì (423), Qí-šum (712), Ter5-qí-um (970). La-qip (881). Šu-Dur-ùl (726). Gan-dKIŠ (640), Gan-dKIŠ-ra (876), Ur-dKIŠ-ra (745, 883). I-dúr-[(x)]-a-NAM (56), I-dúr-la-im (375), I-dúr-sum (530). ì-ku-[u]l? (19). A-ku-a-¶a (507), A-ku-a¶ (508), A-ku-ì-lum (897), A-ku-Il (509). I-ku-a-¶a (61, 532), I-ku-dŠa-ma-gan (533), I-ku-dUTU (534), I-ku-GI (211), I-ku-i-sar (63), I-ku-Il (64, 648), dI-ku-pi (148), I-ku-tum (785). I-GU.KU-DINGIR (910), [I]-GU.KU-[I]l (293), I-KU.GU-Il (62, 376). Ku-ba-rúm (549), Ku-ru-ub-dÌr-ra (940), Ku-tum (685), Maku-rí (554). d Kù-rib-ba (151, 267). I-kùn-Ma-rí (65), I-kùn-Ma-ríki (535), Kùn-BÀD (550). túg ¶a-la-um/¶a-la-umtúg (597), pá-la-ag (774), ú-sá-la-tim (778). La-i-mu (551), La-la (231, 339, 411, 552, 987), La-la-lum (232), La-li (553), La-LUM-ma (233), La-mu-tum (90), La-muUD (686), La-mu-um (941), [L]a-m[u-sa/tum/um] (300), La-qátum (340), La-qì-pum (687), La-qip (881), La-qipx(GIB) (826), La-UD-NI (688). ’À-la-LUMx(ZU/ZU+SAR) (168), A-ba-la-du (600), A-la-LUM (28), Á-ba-la-du (615), Aš-tár-la-ba (364), Bù-la-lí (192, 397), d La-¶ar (268), Dur-Ib-laki (849), Úa-la-NI (858), ÚI-la-ì-lum 

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(49), I-bí-la (120), I-dúr-la-im (375), Ì-la-lum (282), Kà-la-suni (457), Ma-la-Aš-tár (988), Ma-la-i-zi (555), Ma-la-ì-s[ù] (302), MI-la (237), Mi-la-ba (697), MI-la-UN (238), NI-la-la (7), Qí-bi-ba-la-¢ì (423), Zi-la-la (444). Il-LAGAB-LUMx(ZU/ZU+SAR) (218), LAGAB-da-AN (301), Suma-LAGAB (569), U9(EZEN×ÚAL)-LAGAB (738). tu-lá-tim (777). Zú-lá-lum (8, 260). Iš12-gi4-Ma-rí (546). AN.R[U?.x?]-¶a-LA[M] (33), dIl-Úa-lam (579), Mes-lam-Il (92, 236, 303). Iš11-gi4-me-ru (129). be-li-sù (309), ITU ¶a-li (586), li-im (10). Al-ì-li (974), Ba4-ba4-ì-li (517), Be-li-KUR (519), Be-lí-iš-li (326), Bi-li-li (191, 275), dBa4-li-¶a (141), Dì-li-lumum (904), E-li-ASARI (872), E-li-li (627), É-li-li (401, 857), È-li-um (631), Ib-li (124), La-li (553), Ma-si-gi-be-li (556), NI-ba-¶i-li (243), NI.LI.ASARI (699), Šu-ì-li (796), Zi-li (445). ap-lu (770). ’À-na-lu (172), ’À-na-lu-lu (173), A-lu-ì-lum (465), A-lu-lumki (158), É-lu-lu (5), I-lu-[lu?] (912), Ì-lu-da (816), Ì-lu-kà-sa-ad (817), Ì-lu-lu (379, 663, 920), Ì-lu-lu(-)SILA-si (818), Ì-lu-ra-bí (331), Ì-lu-SUM-ri (819), [I]b?-lu-DINGIR (926), Il-lu-sar (219), Lu-mi-zi (942), MI-lu-lu (558), Sar-ÚA.LU.ÚB (714), x-lu-lum (866). Ì-lú-lú (664), LÚ-si-LUM (689), Zi-lú-aš-da (360). gú-lu¶-¶a!? (16). Ba-lu5-lu5 (115), I-lu5-lu5 (649). ITU za-lul (594). DA-DU-lul (195, 399), I-lul-DINGIR (536, 650, 913), I-bù-LULIl (209), Ib-lul-DINGIR (927), Ib-lul-Il (332, 544, 676), Išlul-DINGIR (935), Iš-lul-Il (86, 227, 681, 936). ir-DA(-)a-LUM (497), gišzi-ri-LUM (595), zi-rí-LUM (25, 388). Passim in dE-lum, ì-lum. ’À-LUM (169), A-bù-lum (286), A-¶a-lum (175), A-ÚU.LUMma-lí-ik (802), A-la-LUM (28), A-lu-lumki (158), A-LUM (107), A-lum-BA (390), A-lum-BÀD (30, 287), A-lum-DU10 (371), Alum-ì-lum (31), A-lum-KALAG (391), A-lum-lum (108), A-LUM-ma (177), Ad-da-LUM (315), Áp-lum (618), Sá-lim-a-lum (959). Ba-lum-ì-l[um] (37), Dì-li-lumum (904), En-na-LUM (807), Èšme-lum (810, 874), Iš-me-lum (228, 683), Ga-da-LU[M] (875), Ga-lí-lum (637), Úa-ni-lum (204). I-ba4-lum (525), I-bí-lum (644), I-¶u-lum (531), I-KA-LUM (60, 784), I-ni-lum (651), I-zi-lum (377), Ì-la-lum (282), Iš-pi-lum (229). KAL-ma-LUM (825), La-la-lum (232), La-LUM-ma (233), LUMma (234), LÚ-si-LUM (689), Mi-na-LUM (133), Ra-bí-lum (425), BÀD-Ra-bí-lum-ka (848), Ra-ì-lum (426), Sar-raLUMki (161), Ša-LUM (100), Šu-pi-lum (838), UR-ba-LUM (573), Zi-rí-LUM (361), Zú-lá-lum (8, 260), x-lu-lum (866). d NIN-[x]-¶a-da-núm (582), I-ku8-núm (911), I-nin-núm (915), Ki-núm (130), Kir-ba-núm (548), Me-ra-nú[m] (943).

130

Opening Lectures

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MÁ

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i-ma (17). Passim in Ma-ma, ma-lik, nach Pron. si-/su-/sù-/su4-/su13-ma. A-LUM-ma (177), A-ma-ì-lum (612), AN-ma (395, 512), AN-matum (265), Aš-du-ni-ma (516), Dar-ma-Il (626), É-Áš-da-maIl(ki) (761), É-Iš-d[a]-ma-I[lki] (763), GA-NI-ZU-ma (907), KA.IL(-ma) (409), KAL-ma-LUM (825), La-LUM-ma (233), LUM-ma (234). Ma-¶ir (458), Ma-ma-¶i¶ir (693), Mí-ma-¶ir-sù (561). A-ÚU.LUM-ma-lí-ik (802), Ì-lum-ma--ik (820). d Ma-ni (153), Ma-ni (694), Ma-ni(-)ÚA.A (989), Ma-ni-Il (449). I-kùn-Ma-rí(ki) (65, 535), Iš12-gi4-Ma-rí (546). Ma-si-gi-be-li (556), Ma-siki (695), Ma-siki-be-lí (342). Ma-al-tum-BAL (827), Ma-ki-be-lí (789), Ma-ku-rí (554), Mala-Aš-tár (988), Ma-la-i-zi (555), Ma-la-ì-s[ù] (302), Ma-maDU (412), Ma-ma-ni (413), Ma-ma-tum (414), Ma-ŠÚ+SA-gi4su (696), Ma-šum (343), PÙ.ŠA-ma-SAG×Ú (420), Sar-ma-ì-lum (367), I-ku-dŠa-ma-gan (533), Ur-dŠa-ma!-gan (307), Ú-tum-ma-ì-lum (354), Za-ma-ru12 (751). Um-ma (739), Um-ma-DU10 (356), Um-ma-TUR (254). má-NE-tum (488). AN-má-ti (138), Aš?-má? (183), Aš?-má?-sar (184), Iš-má-ì-lum (87, 937). d EN.ZU-al6-sù (622). Aš-ma¶ (185). I-za-mar (916), Im-mar (128), Mar-tum (415). É-Maš-tum(-ma)ki (765), Maš-MES.MES (91), PÙ.ŠA-Sa-maš  (?) (834). IGI-me (483), IGI-me-sù (484). d Me-ru (154), dIM.MImušen-me-ru (116), dSar-gi-me-ru (155), Ilsù-nu--ru (222), Il-sux(MUŠ)--me-ru (224), Il-sux(MUŠ)-nu-me- (223), Il-sux(MUŠ)-nu-me-ru (225), Iš11-gi4-me-ru (129), KA-Me-er (788), Su-m[a-m]e-ru (961), Sùma-me-ru (136). Èš-me (808), Èš-me-GÁRA (809), Èš-me-lum (810, 874), Iš-me-ìlum (283, 682), Iš-me-lum (228, 683). Me-sar (557), Il-me-sar (263, 311). Aš-tár-um-me (396), Si-um-me (431), Um-me (437, 740, 842), Um-me-dTIR (255), Um-me-DU10 (797). I-me!(BAR)-ERIM+x (66), ME-Aš-tár (863), ME-ÚAR-ši (235), Me-ra-nú[m] (943), Me-salim (165, 272, 416), Pù-me (949), Šu-me?-NI (837). Maš-MES.MES (91), Mes-lam-Il (92, 236, 303), MES-sar (132). mi-at (11, 489). A-¶u(RI)-da-mi-iq (607), A-mi-mi(ki) (759).  E-mi-dEN.ZU (905), È-mi-dEN.ZU (468), I-mi-DINGIR (979), I-mi-ERIM (1), Ìr(UŠ)-mi-Il (84, 335). Lu-mi-zi (942), LUGAL-a-mi (690), MI.AB.SU4 (459), MI.AD.SU4 (460), MI.SU4.AD (240, 417), Mi-en-nu (93), MI-la (237), Mila-ba (697), MI-la-UN (238), MI-lu-lu (558), Mi-mud (94, 239), Mi-na-LUM (133), Mi-su-wa (559), Mi-SU4 (560), Wa-mi-tum (750).

W. Sommerfeld, Prä-Akkadisch…

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MUD MUNUS

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131

Ma-ma-um-mi (341), Um-mi (438), Um-mi-mi (741, 966), Ummi-¢a-bàt (742). A-mu-¢a-ab (510), I-dì-Da:mu (528), Šu-Da-mu (571), I-mu-mu (294), I-mu-tum (786). La-i-mu (551), La-mu-tum (90), La-mu-UD (686), La-mu-um (941), [L]a-m[u-sa/tum/um] (300). AN-mu-da (182), LUGAL-mu-da (692), Sar-ru-mu-da (835). Mu-ti-NE (864), Mu-tù-DINGIR (944), Na-mu-ra-[sú] (945), Nu-mu-ra-bi (828), Ù-mu-NI-NI (355, 736, 841). Su-mu-Aš?-tár? (247), Su-mu-dA-a (942), Su-mu-DI[NGIR] (477), Su-m[u-…] (304). Áš-mud (36), dZu-en-MUD (193), Ib-AN-mud (71), Ib-mud (408), Mi-mud (94, 239). Mí-ma-¶ir-sù (561). Ì-lum-sux (216), Il-sux-nu-me-ru (u. ä. 223–225). ’a5-na (308), a-na (463, 478, 769), ì/’a5-na (885), i-na-kir (772). ’À-na (171), ’À-na-lu (172), ’À-na-lu-lu (173), ’À-tum-NA.SIG (501), A-na-da5-rìm (511), Á-na (109), Da-na (400, 856), LUGAL-da-na (691), Nin-giš-da-na-ni (991). En-na-Il (42, 279, 317, 322, 374, 634), En-na-LUM (807), En-na-na (43), I-na-Il (212), I-na-na (914). Ì-a-ki-na-ni (378), Kà-ra-na (547), Mi-na-LUM (133). Na-DI-nu (241), Na-ga-[x]-tum (562), Na-¶a-iš (698), Na-mura-[sú] (945), Na-nu-im (563), Na-sum (134). SIG?-na-sar (135), Ša-na-bum (722), Šu-a-na-ti (250). nab-ga-um (491), nab-ra-rutúg (492). d A-bir5-tum (577). nam-KA-rí (493). ’À-nam (174), I-dúr-[(x)]-a-NAM (56). Ì-lum-a-pir6 (542). A-bí-bí (324, 601, 893), A-bí-¢ab4 (602), dUTU-a-bí (623), Bí-bí (467, 520, 902), Bí-bí-um (38), Da-bí (624), En-bí-Aš-tár (633). I-bí-a (859), I-b[í]-bí (291), I-bí-dUTU (908), I-bí-DINGIR (292), I-bí-ì-lum (643), I-bí-Il (977), I-bí-la (120), I-bí-lum (644), I-bí-um (51, 405), I-bí-[x] (290, 645), Su4-i-bí (720), Ìr(UŠ)-bí-a-¶a (83). È-a-ra-bí (628), Ì-lu-ra-bí (331), Ì-lum-ra-bí (673, 925),   Il -su-ra-bí (678), Ra-bí (424), Ra-bí-DINGIR (566), Ra-bí-ìlum (385, 462, 713, 958), Ra-bí-Il (346, 567), Ra-bí-lum (425),  BÀD-Ra-bí-lum-ka (848), Su4-ma-ra-bí (963). Sa-dSi-bí (427), Si-bí-tum (428), ŠUL-bí-nu (251), ŠUL-bínu-um (434). Úa-bil (403). má-NE-tum (488). A-¶u-NE (106), É-Ri-ZA-NE(ki) (766), Ib-gi-NE (217), Mu-ti-NE (864), Ú-NE-NE (353), Ú-NE-NE (103). A-NE-da (392, 613, 869), NE-LUMx(ZU/ZU+SAR) (242). áš-te4 (313). A-na-da5-rìm (511). A-rúm (898), Ar-rúm (111), Aš?-rúm (35), Da5-r[úm] (522), Úur-rúm (969), I-IM.NI-RÚM (59), Kar-ki-rúm (939), Ku-barúm (549).

132 NI

Opening Lectures ’ A5 Ì

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TER5

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PI

WA PÙ

BÙ BUM

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’a5-na (308), ì/’a5-na (885). ì-ku-[u]l? (19), ì/’a5-na (885). passim in ì-lí, ì-lum, s. a. ì-li (s. LI), ì-lu (s. LU). Ì-a-ki-na-ni (378), Ì-iš-ì-lum (541), Ì-la-lum (282), Ì-NI-NI (983), Ì-rí-iš (675), Ìr-ì-bum (334, 545, 934), Ma-la-ì-s[ù] (302), Ra-ì-lum (426), Ra-ì-si-in (347), Ur-Ì-šum (358). passim in be-lí, ì-lí, pi-lí (s. PI). A-ÚU.LUM-ma-lí-ik (802), Bù-la-lí (192, 397), Ga-lí-lum (637),  Ì-lí-a-lí (868). i-NI-x (18), ITU gi-NI (585). oft in ba-ni (s. BA), ib-ni (s. IB), ma-ni (s. MA). A-NI-NI (178, 288, 372, 393, 614, 804, 973), È-NI-NI (632), Gu-NI-NI (877), Ì-NI-NI (983), Ib-NI-NI (928), Il-NI-NI (220), NI-NI (244, 700, 946, 990), Ù-mu-NI-NI (355, 736, 841), ZANI-NI (359, 443). [’À-nu]-NI (105), Ar-NI-ba (110), Aš-du-ni-ma (516), DINGIRen-ni (277), En-ni-Ma-ma (636), EREN-da-ni (873), GA-NI-ZUma (907), Ga-ri-NI (201), Gu-NI-sum (45), Úa-la-NI (858), Úa-ni-lum (204), I-BU-NI (208), I-IM.NI-RÚM (59), I-ni-lum (651), I-ša-ni-KA.GA (657), Ì-a-ki-na-ni (378), Ì-lumKA.NI (982), Ì-lum-SAG.NI (471), IR11-sú-ni (680, 985), Kà-lasu-ni (457), La-UD-NI (688), Ma-ma-ni (413), NI-ba-¶i-li (243), NI-la-la (7), NI.LI.ASARI (699), Nin-giš-da-na-ni (991), Šu-me?-NI (837), Tàš-ni-tum (435), UŠ-ni-tum (442). Gi-num (402). I-nin-núm (915), dNIN-tá-ra-at (581), dNIN-[x]-¶a-da-núm (582), Sa-NINki (160). d.šè Šer7 (156, 269), Ur-d.šèŠer7(-da) (259, 439, 746). [’À-nu]-NI (105), Il-sù-nu--ru (222), Il-sux(MUŠ)-nu-meru u. ä. (223–225), Mi-en-nu (93), Na-DI-nu (241), Na-nu-im (563), Nu-mu-ra-bi (828), Nu-PI-ì-lum (701), Pù-Nu-nu (790),  ŠUL-bí-nu (251), ŠUL-bí-nu-um (434). Si-KUL.BA (719). Ter5-qí-um (970). Ì-lí-pi-lí (406, 662, 815), Ib-ni-pi-lí (677), Ib-ni-ba/PI!-NI (821), PÙ.ŠA-pi-lí (709), Su4-pi-lí (993), Ur-dPi-lí (845), Pi[lí?]-ì-lí (830), Pi-lí-lí (245, 702, 831). d I-ku-pi (148), I-pi-ì-lum (652), Ì-lum-i-pi (670), Iš-pi-lum (229), Nu-PI-ì-lum (701), Si-PI-DU (430), Šu-pi-lum (838). Mi-su-wa (559), Su-wa-d[a] (570), Wa-mi-tum (750). A-bù-lum (286), Bù-la-lí (192, 397), I-bù-LUL-Il (209). šè-bum (495). A-bum-BAL (603), A-bum-Da-gan (604), A-bum-GIŠ.ERIM (325, 502). Az-bum (113), Az-za-bum (114), Ìr-ì-bum (334, 545, 934), Kálbum (338, 938), Ša-na-bum (722), UŠ-bum (748), UŠ-rí-bum (749). passim in PÙ.ŠA-. GAL-PÙ-Aš-tár (639), Pù-AD (865), Pù-gul (992), Pù-ì-lum (948), Pù-Ma-ma (703), Pù-me (949), Pù-Nu-nu (790), Pù-pù (383, 474, 564, 704, 950), Pù-sa-GAL (791), Pù-sar (246),

W. Sommerfeld, Prä-Akkadisch…

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Pù-su (705), Pù-su-GI (832, 951), Pù-Sùd (952), Pù-šu-tum (345), Pù-za-um (957). I-sar-pum (214, 538), La-qì-pum (687). nab-ra-rutúg (492), qù-ra-dum (498), ra-šum (596). passim in ra-bí (s. BÍ), ap-ra (s. AP). Ar-ra-DINGIR (513), Aš-tár-ra! (779), dBa-surx(ÚI×MAŠ)-ra-at (578), dNIN-tá-ra-at (581), dRa-sa-pá-an (583), EZEN-qar-ra-ad (328), Ga-zi-ra (638), Gan-dKIŠ-ra (876), Ur-dKIŠ-ra (745, 883), I-sar-ra-an (539), Kà-ra-na (547), Ku-ru-ub-dÌr-ra (940), Me-ra-nú[m] (943), Na-mu-ra-[sú] (945), Nu-mu-ra-bi (828), PÙ.ŠA-ra (710), PÙ.ŠA-ra-ra (792), Qaq-qá-ra(ki) (159), Ra-ìlum (426), Ra-ì-si-in (347), Sar-ra-LUMki (161), Ša-ra-ga (723), Ur-dZa-ra (440), Zi-ra (575, 752), Zix(ÁB.ŠÀ)-ra (754). giš zi-ri-LUM (595). É-Ri-ZA-NE(ki) (766), Ga-ri (119, 200), Ga-ri-NI (201), Ì-luSUM-ri (819), Ù-RI-ti-LUMx(ZU/ZU+SAR) (252). RI als graphische Variante von ÚU s. dort. nab-ra-rutúg (492). passim in me-ru (s. ME). AN.R[U?.x?]-¶a-LA[M] (33), Ku-ru-ub-dÌr-ra (940), Sar-ru-mu-da (835). ITU i-ba4-sa (587), sa-dì-um (888). d Ra-sa-pá-an (583), Ì-lu-kà-sa-ad (817), Pù-sa-GAL (791),  PÙ.ŠA-Sa-maš (?) (834), Sa-dSi-bí (427), Sa-dú-ì-lum (475),  Sa-NINki (160), UD-sa (997). d Úa-rí-ur-sag (40), Ì-lum-SAG.NI (471), UR.SAG-GÀR (137). Aš?-má?-sar (184), È-a-sar (629), Il-lu-sar (219), MES-sar (132), Pù-sar (246), Su4-sar (433), UNmušen-sar (256). I-ku-i-sar (63), I-sar-BAD (654), I-sar-pum (214, 538), I-sar-raan (539), I-sar-šum (655), I-sar-um (656), U9-´í-i-sar (572). Il-me-sar (263, 311), Me-sar (557). d Sar-gi-me-ru (155), Sar-ÚA.LU.ÚB (714), Sar-ma-ì-lum (367), Sar-ru-mu-da (835), Sar-um-GI (715). Sar-NIGIN.NA (476), Sar-ra-LUMki (161), SIG?-na-sar (135). ITU i-si (163, 591). A-¶a-ar-si (27), Ar-si-a-¶a (514), DUB-si-ga (373), Ì-lu-lu(-) SILA-si (818), LÚ-si-LUM (689), Ma-si-gi-be-li (556), Ra-ì-si-in (347), Sa-dSi-bí (427), Si-mur-umki (768), Si-PI-DU (430). Si-AZ (717), Si-bi-tum (348), Si-bí-tum (428), Si-GÀR (960), Si ì -lí (718), Si-KUL.BA (719), Si-ma (2, 429), Si-um-me (431). ’À-tum-NA.SIG (501), SIG?-na-sar (135). Ma-siki(695), Ma-siki-be-lí (342). è-tá-su (884). Il-su (333, 984), [I]l-su-a-¶a (74), Il-su-ERIM+x (930), Il-suGÀR (75), Il-su-ma-lik (320), Il-su-ra-bí (678), Il-su-su (679, 931), Šu-ì-lí-su (727). Su-ma-a-ba4 (97), Su-ma-a-¶a (98), Su-ma-LAGAB (569), Su-m[a-m]e-ru (961). Su-mu-Aš?-tár? (247), Su-mu-dA-a (962), Su-mu-DI[NGIR] (477), Su-m[u-…] (304). Amar-dSu-en (316), PÙ.ŠA-dEN.SU (418), PÙ.ŠA-SU (421).

134

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SUM ÔARX

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ŠÈ ÚB

ŠITA ŠU

ŠÚ+SA ŠUL TAG

ŠUM

TI

DÌ

TI

I-su-BAL (122), Kà-la-su-ni (457), Ma-ŠÚ+SA-gi4-su (696), Mi-su-wa (559), Pù-su (705), Pù-su-GI (832, 951), Su-tu-ì-lum (349), Su-wa-d[a] (570). MI.AB.SU4 (459), MI.AD.SU4 (460), MI.SU4.AD (240, 417), Mi-SU4 (560). Su4-a-bi (248), Su4-be-lí (794), Su4-i-bí (720), Su4-pi-lí (993), Su4-sar (433). Su4-ma (432), Su4-ma-BA (721), Su4-ma-ma-lik (386), Su4-mara-bí (963), Su4?-ma-x-x-x (350). be-li-sù (309), i-sù (482), IGI-me-sù (484), sù (22). AD-sù (13), AM-sù (15), DAM-sù (851), DÙL-sù (480), ÌR-sù (486), MU-sù (490), PA.È.AK-sù (21), SÁM-sù (370, 775), URU-s[ù] (24). Il-sù (318), Il-sù-a-¶a (76, 472), Il-sù-ERIM+x (77), Il-sù-GÀR (932), Il-sù-LAK647 (380), Il-sù-ma-lik (78), Il-sù-nu-ru (222). A-tá-kál-sù (899), BAD-sù-BÀD (518), [dE]N.ZU-al-sù (621), d EN.ZU-al6-sù (622), Ì-lum-al-sù (665), Ma-la-ì-s[ù] (302), Míma-¶ir-sù (561), PÙ.ŠA-sù-DU10 (384), Sù-ma-me-ru (136). Gu-NI-sum (45), I-dúr-sum (530), Ì-lu-SUM-ri (819), Na-sum (134). d INANNA-´arx-bat (580), Ôarx-batki (584). En-na5-Il (635). ša (889). passim in PÙ.ŠA-. I-dì-dŠa-gagan (53), I-ku-dŠa-ma-gan (533), UR-dŠa-ma!-gan (307), I-ša-ni-KA.GA (657), Ša-LUM (100), Ša-na-bum (722), Ša-ra-ga (723), UR-dUTU.ŠA (574). Eš?-še-šu (199). šè-bum (495). In d.šèŠer7(-da) (s. NIR). Sar-ÚA.LU.ÚB (714). É-ŠITA-tumki (767). šu (323, 451, 496, 776, 890). Šu-Aš-tár (368, 724, 795, 836), Šu-d[x]-KA (351), Šu-Da-mu (571), Šu-Dur-ùl (726), [Š]u?-É-a (352), Šu-ì-li (796), Šu-ì-lísu (727), Šu-Ma-ma (728). Eš?-še-šu (199), Pù-šu-tum (345), Šu-a-ba4 (249), Šu-a-na-ti (250), Šu-da-[x] (725), Šu-me?-NI (837), Šu-pi-lum (838), Šu-x-[x-u]m (729). Ma-ŠÚ+SA-gi4-su (696).  ŠUL-bí-nu (251), ŠUL-bí-nu-um (434). ra-šum (596). A-za-šum? (900), I-sar-šum (655), Ma-šum (343), Qí-šum (712), Qì-šum (366), Šum-BAD (312), Ur-Ì-šum (358). sa-dì-um (888). Dì-li-lumum (904), Úa-dì (811), Úu-dì-um (50). I-dì (909), I-dì-Aš-tár (469, 526), I-dì-dI7 (52, 527), I-dì-dŠa-gagan (53), I-dì-dUD.GAM+GAM (54), I-dì-Da:mu (528), I-dì-É (55), I-dì-GAN.DU (271), I-dì-ì-lum (121), I-dì  Il (529), I-dì-ZU (330). áš-ti (479), gi-ti-um (481).

W. Sommerfeld, Prä-Akkadisch…

àÌ TU

DÚ TU

TUM

DUM TUM

TUR U Ú

Ù

U5 UB UD

UD UTU

UD.DU

UL UM

È

135

A-¶a-ti (389), AN-má-ti (138), I-ti-da-gal (658), Mu-ti-NE (864), Šu-a-na-ti (250), Ti-dur (101), Ù-RI-ti-LUMx(ZU/ZU+SAR) (252). Qí-bi-ba-la-¢ì (423). Sa-dú-ì-lum (475). tu-lá-tim (777). Á/It-tu (616), Da-tu-tu (903), Il-tu-tu (226), Su-tu-ì-lum (349), Tu-´ix(ÁB.ŠÀ)-a (732). ÚAR.TU (47, 166, 205, 280, 365, 404, 641, 976), ÚAR.TUd Nisaba (48), ÚAR.TU-dSùd (206), ÚAR.TU-TUR (207, 642). qù-ra-dum (498). Da-dum (117, 196, 327, 521), Dum-qí-im (523), Im-dum (126). ITU za-’à-tum (164, 593), má-NE-tum (488), ´í-tum (494), za-al-tum (799), za-tum (598, 972). ’À-da-tum (500), ’À-tum-NA.SIG (501), A-¶a-tum (504), AN-matum (265), AN-tum (139), Ba-ir-x-[t]um (453), dA-bir5-tum (577), É-Maš-tum(-ma)ki (765), É-ŠITA-tumki (767), I-ku-tum (785), I-mu-tum (786), Ki-tum (880), Ku-tum (685), La-mutum (90), La-qá-tum (340), Ma-al-tum-BAL (827), Ma-ma-tum (414), Mar-tum (415), Na-ga-[x]-tum (562), Pù-šu-tum (345), Si-bi-tum (348), Si-bí-tum (428), Tab5(URUDU)-rí-tum (730), Tàš-ni-tum (435), Ú-il?(TUM) (734), Ú-tum-ma-ì-lum (354), U9(EZEN×AN)-bar-tum (737), UŠ-ni-tum (442), Wa-mi-tum (750), [x]-x-a-tum (755). ÚAR.TU-TUR (207, 642), Il-turBÀD (79), Um-ma-TUR (254).  ! U -bíl-Aš-tár (839), U-il (733). ú-sá-la-tim (778). Ú-da (436, 840), Ú-il (3, 273, 995), Ú-il?(TUM) (734),   Ú -KA-il (996), Ú-Ma-ma (735), Ú-NE-NE (353), Ú-tum-maì-lum (354), Ú-ZARki (162). ù (12, 23, 310, 499, 891, 971). Ù-Aš-tár (102, 305), Ù-mu-NI-NI (355, 736, 841), Ù-NE-NE (103), Ù-RI-ti-LUMx(ZU/ZU+SAR) (252). U5-Aš-tár (253). Ku-ru-ub-dÌr-ra (940). I-dì-dUD.GAM+GAM (54), La-mu-UD (686), La-UD-NI (688), UD-sa (997). d UTU-a-bí (623), I-bí-dUTU (908), I-ku-dUTU (534), UR-dUTU.ŠA (574). è-tá-su (884). È-a-ra-bí (628), È-a-sar (629), È-gu-Da-gan (630), È-li-um (631), È-mi-dEN.ZU (468), È-NI-NI (632), PÙ.ŠA-È-a (833). ì-ku-[u]l? (19). gi-ti-um (481), nab-ga-um (491), sa-dì-um (888), túg¶a-la-um/ ¶a-la-umtúg (597).   A -a-um(-KU.LI) (26), Bí-bí-um (38), Dì-li-lumum (904), È-li-um (631), GAG-zi-um (202), ÚAR-um (878), Úu-dì-um (50), I-bí-um (51, 405), I-sar-um (656), I-zi-um (540), Ib-um (822), Iš!?-daum (823), La-mu-um (941), Pù-za-um (957), Sar-um-GI (715), SI.A-um (716), Si-mur-umki (768), ŠUL-bí-nu-um (434), Ter5-qíum (970), U9-´í-um (965), ZU-ba-rí-um (892).

136

Opening Lectures

UN UR

LIK

UR

URU

RÍ

URU URUDU

DA5 TAB5 àAB4

UŠ

ÌR UŠ

Um-ma (739), Um-ma-DU10 (356), Um-ma-TUR (254). Aš-tár-um-me (396), Si-um-me (431), Um-me (437, 740, 842), Um-me-dTIR (255), Um-me-DU10 (797). Ma-ma-um-mi (341), Um-mi (438), Um-mi-mi (741, 966), Um-mi-¢a-bàt (742). MI-la-UN (238). d Ma-l[ik?] (152), Ì-lum-ma-lik (70), Il-su-ma-lik (320), Il-sù-malik (78), PÙ.ŠA-dMa-lik (565), Su4-ma-ma-lik (386). Im-lik-É (81), Im-lik-Il (127), Im-li[k?-x] (297). d Úa-rí-ur-sag (40), Ur-ba-LUM (573), Ur-sag-GÀR (137). Ur-Ap-ra (104, 285, 387, 998), Ur-dAš-tár (257, 843), Ur-dE-lum (258), Ur-dEN.ZU (357, 743, 882, 999), Ur -dZu-en (306), Ur-Ì-šum (358), Ur-dKA.DI (744, 844), Ur-dKIŠ-ra (745, 883), UrMa-ma (441, 747, 798), Ur-dPi-lí (845), Ur-dŠa-ma!-gan (307), Urd.šè Šer7(-da) (259, 439, 746), UR-dUTU.ŠA (574), Ur-dZa-ra (440). da-da-rí-im (771), ITU i-rí-sá (590), nam-KA-rí (493), zi-rí-LUM (25, 388). d Da-rí(-x?) (144), dÚa-rí-ur-sag (40), I-kùn-Ma-rí (65), I-kùn-Ma-ríki (535), I-rí?-gi (213), I-rí-iš (653), Ì-rí-iš (675), Im-rí-iš-É (82), Iš12-gi4-Ma-rí (546), Ma-ku-rí (554), Rí-i´DINGIR (793), Tab5(URUDU)-rí-tum (730), UŠ-rí-bum (749), Zi-rí-LUM (361), ZU-ba-rí-um (892). d Za-za-URU (448). A-na-da5-rìm (511), Da5-r[úm] (522). Tab5-rí-tum (730). A-bí-¢ab4 (602), A-¶u(RI)-¢ab4 (610), A-¶u-¢ab4 (803). Ìr(UŠ)-bí-a-¶a (83), Ìr(UŠ)-mi-Il (84, 335); s. a. ARAD. (748), UŠ-ni-tum (442), UŠ-rí-bum (749).

UŠ-bum

i-ik-za (589), ITU ik-za (592), ITU za-’à-tum (164, 593), za-lul (594), za-al-tum (799), za-tum (598, 972). A-¶i-za-gi (505), A-za-šum? (900), Az-za-bum (114), dZa-zaURU (448), É-Ri-ZA-NE(ki) (766), GÁ-za-za (6), I-za-mar (916), Pù-za-um (957), Ur-dZa-ra (440), Za-búm (850), Za-ma-ru12 (751), ZA-NI-NI (359, 443). Ú-ZARki (162). ´í-tum (494). U9-´í-i-sar (572), U9-´í-um (965). giš zi-ri-LUM (595), zi-rí-LUM (25, 388). Ga-zi-ra (638), GAG-zi-um (202), I-zi-ì-lum (860), I-zi-Il (917), I-zi-lum (377), I-zi-um (540), Í-zi (659), Lu-mi-zi (942), Ma-la-izi (555), Zi-la-la (444), Zi-li (445), Zi-lú-aš-da (360), Zi-ra (575, 752), Zi-rí-LUM (361), Zi-zi (446, 753, 846). IR11-sú-ni (680, 985), Na-mu-ra-[sú] (945). GA-NI-ZU-ma (907), I-dì-ZU (330), Il-ZU-ERIM+x (933), Il-zu-zu (80), ZU-ba-rí-um (892). d EN.ZU usw. s. u. EN. ’À-la-LUMx (168), ’À-LUMx (170), A-LUMx (4), Il-LAGAB-LUMx (218), NE-LUMx (242), Ù-RI-ti-LUMx (252). Bìl-zum (782). ITU

ZA

ITU

ZAR ZI

ÔÍ ZI

ZU

SÚ ZU

ZU/ZU+SAR

LUMX

ZUM

ZUM

W. Sommerfeld, Prä-Akkadisch…

3.1. Alphabetische Liste der Lautwerte ’À ’A5

É NI

A

A

A-A

A-A

Á

Á

AB

AB

ÁB

ÁB

AD

AD

AG

AG

AÚ

AÚ

AL

AL

AL6

MAÚ

AN

AN

AP

AB

ÁP

ÁB

AR

AR

ASARI

ASARI

AŠ

AŠ

ÁŠ

ÁŠ

AT

AD

AZ

AZ

BA

BA

BA4

GÁ

BAD

BAD

BAR

BAR

BAT

BAD

BÀT

BÀD

BE

BAD

BI

BI

BÍ

NE

BIL

NE

BÍL

BÍL

BÌL

BÌL

BIR5

NAM

BU

BU

BÙ

PÙ

BUM

PÙ

137

138

Opening Lectures BÚM

DÚB

BÙM

KA

DA

DA

DA5

URUDU

DAR

DAR

DI

DI

DÌ

TI

DU

DU

DÚ

TU

DUB

DUB

DUM

TUM

DUR

DUR

DÚR

KU

E

E

É

É

È

UD.DU

EN

EN

ER

IR

EREN

EREN

EŠ

EŠ

ÈŠ

AB

EZEN

EZEN

GA

GA

GÁ

GÁ

GAG

GAG

GAL

GAL

GAN

GAN

GÁRA

GÁR

GÀR

GÀR

GI

GI

GI4

GI4

GU

GU

GÚ

GÚ

GUL

GUL

ÚA

ÚA

ÚAR

ÚAR

ÚI

ÚI

ÚIR

EZEN

W. Sommerfeld, Prä-Akkadisch… ÚU

ÚU

ÚUR

ÚAR

I

I

Í

IÁ

Ì

NI

IÁ

IÁ

IB

IB

IK

IG

IL

IL

IM

IM

IN

IN

IQ

IG

IR

IR

ÌR

ARAD

ÌR

UŠ

IÔ

GIŠ

IŠ

IŠ

IŠ11

LAM×KUR

IŠ12

LAM

IŠTARAN

KA.DI

(IT)

Á

KA

KA

KÀ

GA

KAL

KAL

KÁL

GAL

KALAG

KAL

KAR

KAR

KI

KI

KIR

GIR

KIŠ

KIŠ

KU

KU

KÙ

KUG

KU8

GU

KUL

NUMUN

KÙN

KUM

LA

LA

LÁ

LAL

LAGAB

LAGAB

139

140

Opening Lectures LAM

LAM

LI

LI

LÍ

NI

LIK

UR

LIM

IGI

LU

LU

LÚ

LÚ

LU5

LUL

LUÚ

LUÚ

LUL

LUL

LUM

LUM

LUMx

ZU/ZU+SAR

MA

MA

MÁ

MÁ

MAÚ

MAÚ

MÁÚ

AL

MAR

MAR

MAŠ

MAŠ

ME

ME

MES

MES

MI

MI

MÍ

MUNUS

MU

MU

MUD

MUD

MUR

ÚAR

NA

NA

NA5

ŠA

NAB

NAB

NAM

NAM

NE

NE

NI

NI

NIN

NIN

NU

NU

NUM

NIM

NÚM

LUM

PÁ

BA

PI

PI

PIR6

NAM

W. Sommerfeld, Prä-Akkadisch… PÙ

PÙ

PUM

PÙ

QÁ

GA

QAQ

GAG

QAR

GÀR

QÍ

KI

QÌ

GI

QIP

KIB

QIPx

GIB

QÙ

GU

QUR

GUR

RA

RA

RI

RI

RÍ

URU

RIB

KAL

RÌM

NE.RU

RU

RU

RU12

EN

RÚM

NE.RU

SA

SA

SÁ

DI

SAG

SAG

SALIM

DI

SAR

SAR

SI

SI

SIG

SIG

SIKI

SÍG

SU

SU

SÚ

ZU

SÙ

SUD

SU4

SU4

SU13

BU

SUx

MUŠ

SUM

SUM

SURx

ÚI×MAŠ

ÔARx

SUM

ÔÍ

ZI

ÔÍx

ÁB.ŠÀ

141

142

Opening Lectures ŠA

ŠA

ŠE

ŠE

ŠÈ

ŠÈ

ŠER7

NIR

ŠI

IGI

ŠITA

ŠITA

ŠU

ŠU

ŠÚ+SA

ŠÚ+SA

ŠUL

ŠUL

ŠUM

TAG

TÁ

DA

TAB5

URUDU

TÁM

DAM

TÁR

DAR

TÀŠ

ÁŠ

TE4

NE

TER5

PAN

TI

TI

TIM

DIM

TU

TU

TÙ

DU

TUM

TUM

TUR

TUR

àA

DA

àAB4

URUDU

àÌ

TI

àUP

DUB

U

U

Ú

Ú

Ù

Ù

U5

U5

U9

BÀD

UB

UB

ÚB

ŠÈ

UD

UD

UL

UL

ÙL

KIB

UM

UM

W. Sommerfeld, Prä-Akkadisch… UN

UN

UR

UR

URU

URU

UŠ

UŠ

UTU

UD

WA

PI

ZA

ZA

ZAR

ZAR

ZI

ZI

ZIx

ÁB.ŠÀ

ZU

ZU

ZÚ

KA

ZUM

ZUM

143

4. Vergleich signifikanter Dialektmerkmale Präsargonisch – Akkade-Zeit – Ur III-Zeit Bei dem Versuch, anhand von charakteristischen Merkmalen die prä-akkadische Überlieferung sprachgeschichtlich zuzuordnen, lassen sich Kriterien in den Bereichen von Syllabar, Phonologie und Morphologie entwickeln. Dabei sollen in der folgenden Untersuchung in der Regel nur solche Belege berücksichtigt werden, deren Interpretation gesichert ist, denn valide Schlußfolgerungen setzen eine Datenbasis ohne Ambiguität voraus. 4.1. Syllabar Das präsargonische System der Syllabogramme weist beträchtliche regionale Unterschiede auf, die sorgfältig beachtet werden müssen, wenn falsche Deutungen vermieden werden sollen. Beispielsweise wird in Mari beim Zeichen NI der andernorts übliche Lautwert lí nicht verwendet, und die gängige Differenzierung zwischen li und lí kann deshalb hier nicht erscheinen. Daß in Mari aber dennoch ein Unterschied zwischen /e/ und /i/ bestand, zeigt etwa die Opposition zwischen ME und MI (vgl. IGI-me(-sù) [483, 484] und mi-at [489]).

144

Opening Lectures

Opposition von Zeichenpaaren Das Zeicheninventar, das in der Akkade-Zeit allgemein im Gebrauch war, weist bei folgenden Zeichenpaaren eine Differenzierung zwischen den Vokalen /e/ und /i/ auf:1 Ke Ki

E

BI

GI

LI

ME

Ì

BÍ

KI

LÍ

MI

Diese Oppositionen werden in der Regel in offiziellen Texten der Akkade-Zeit sorgfältig beachtet, aus denen sich u. a. folgende charakteristische Dialektunterschiede ergeben: 0000000000000000000000000000000 Plural mask. im cas. obl. Verben ii inf.: Stativ, Verbaladjektive Diphthong ai Adverbialendung

altakkadisch ilē kēn > ē00bētum > ē00ēnum alē

babylonisch ilī kīn > ī00bītum > ī00īnum alī

Es ist somit beispielsweise eine unterschiedliche Darstellung zu verzeichnen zwischen – ilī ‘mein Gott’ und ilē ‘Götter’ – ālī ‘meine Stadt’ und alē ‘wo?’

+ +

– –

Die Trennung zwischen /e/ und /i/ ist auch im sumerischen Kontext signifikant und läßt sich besonders klar im präsargonischen Girsu im Zusammenhang mit der Vokalharmonie beobachten,2 vgl. etwa e-me-gar (AWL 90 i 5) versus ì-mi-si-a (RIME 1.9.4.2 vii 6) / ì-mi-du11 (ix 9). Nach dem Ende der Akkade-Zeit werden diese orthographischen Konventionen aufgegeben. In der Ur III-Zeit bestanden anscheinend zwischen /e/ und /i/ keine signifikanten sprachlichen Oppositionen mehr, und eine orthographische Differenzierung zwischen den vokalischen Allophonen war damit überflüssig geworden, Einzelheiten s. Hilgert 2002: 120–125. Der präsargonische Befund entspricht weitgehend demjenigen der Ur III-Zeit und zeigt beispielsweise beim Suffix der 1. Ps. Sing., den Verben med. inf. oder der Monophthongierung von /ai/ keine klaren orthographischen Distinktionen zwischen /e/ und /i/, die analog zu den Oppositionen der Akkade-Zeit wären. Dabei sollen hier nur solche Beispiele 1

Einzelheiten s. ebenso wie weitere entsprechende Zeichenpaare Sommerfeld 1999:18–22; 2003:572, und (mit teilweise abweichender Bewertung) Hasselbach 2005. 2 Weitere Beispiele aus sumerischem Kontext s. Sommerfeld 1999:18f.

W. Sommerfeld, Prä-Akkadisch…

145

herangezogen werden, bei denen das Belegmaterial umfangreich genug ist, um aussagekräftige Beobachtungen zuzulassen. Prä- und frühsargonisch Akkade-Zeit Suffix 1. Ps. Sing. Su4-a-bi ‘Er ist mein Vater’ (Fara 248), vgl. a-bí ‘mein Vater’ (passim), vgl. Su4-beI-bí- ‘Er berief ’ (TAS 51). la ‘Er ist Herr’ (MAD 5, 57 i 17; HSS 10, 5:25), Su4-be-lí ‘Er ist mein Herr’ (passim). Al-ì-li ‘Die Stadt ist mein Gott’ (Herk. Al-ì-lí (AIHA 1 iii 1; OAIC 8, 2; Tutub unb. 974), vgl. A-lu/lum-ì-lum (TAS 31, Kiš 50:4). 465). Aš-tár-um-me ‘Aštar ist meine Mutter’ Nur um-mi (passim). (Girsu 396), Ma-ma-um-mi ‘Mama ist meine Mutter’ (Adab 341), Si-um-me ‘Sie ist meine Mutter’ (Girsu 431), Um-me-DU10 ‘Meine Mutter ist gut’ (Sippar 797), Um-mi¢a-bàt (Nippur 742); vielleicht als Kurzform Um-me (Girsu 437, Nippur 740, Umma 842) neben Um-mi (Girsu 438), Um-mi-mi (Nippur 741, Herk. unb. 966). Verben II Inf. Ki-núm ‘(Der) Zuverlässig(e)’ (TAS 130), Nur GI-núm, GI-in usw. (passim). Pù-su-GI ‘Sein Wort ist zuverlässig’ (Umma 832, Herk. unb. 951), Sar-um-GI ‘Der König ist zuverlässig’ (Nippur 715), La-qì-pum ‘Ist (der Gott) nicht zuverläs- La-qì-pum (passim), singulär Qí-pum sig?’ (Nippur 687), Qí-šum ‘Geschenkt(er)’ (MAD 1, 4 iii′ 5′), (Nippur 712), Qì-šum (Dijala 366). Qì-šum (passim). Monophthongierung Si-bi-tum ‘Sie ist das (Familien-)Haus’ Si-bi-tum (AIHA 1 vii 7; 7 ii 11), Su4-bi(Adab 348), Si-bí-tum (Girsu 428). tum (8:23; 38:12′), Su4-bí-tum (MAD 1, 166Rs.:2′).3

4.2. Reduktion von Phonemen Pharyngale und Glottale Kennzeichnend ist der Erhalt von pharyngalen und glottalen Phonemen in der offiziellen Sprache von Akkade, während sie in der Ur III-Zeit zusammengefallen und meist ganz reduziert sind. Zu untersuchen sind folgende Phoneme: 3 Dieser Text, der in einem Privathaus gefunden wurde (s. MAD 1², S. XV) und in einer sehr einfachen Schrift verfaßt ist, entstammt nicht der Zentralverwaltung Ešnunnas und gibt nicht die offizielle Sprache wider.

146

Opening Lectures Pharyngale Glottale

/µ/ /‘/ /’/ /h/

MÁ ist spezifisches Silbenzeichen zur Darstellung von /ma‘/ und /ma’/ und steht in Opposition zu MA für /ma/:

áš-má-ma Iš-má-ma-lik

‘ich hörte und …’ (Girsu, FAOS 19, S. 116, Gir 37:3). ‘Malik erhörte’ (Ebla passim).

Bei dem Namen Iš-má-ì-lum /jišma‘’ilum/ ‘Gott erhörte’ sind aufschlußreiche variierende Schreibweisen zu verzeichnen, die den präsargonischen Befund in enge Nähe zum Ur III-zeitlichen stellen und eine klare Opposition zu demjenigen der Akkade-Zeit bilden. Folgende Schreibungen sind bezeugt: Neben Iš-má-ì-lum und Iš-máDINGIR steht eine Reihe von Varianten, bei denen das Syllabogramm ME verwendet wird: Iš-me-ì-lum

Iš-me-DINGIR Èš-me-DINGIR

Iš-me-lum Èš-me-lum

Èš-me

Nachstehende Tabelle gibt einen zeitlich und regional gegliederten Überblick über die verschiedenen Gebrauchsweisen mit Angabe der Beleghäufigkeit.

Iš-má-ìlum Iš-má-

Fara Süden TAS 1

Isin 10

Akkade-Zeit Norden Süden Sippar 3

Ur III Süden

Girsu 2 MO 4 Susa 11 Kiš 1 Sippar 2 unb. 4 Dijala 11 Gasur 47

Beydar 1 Ebla passim

DINGIR

Iš-me-ìlum Iš-me-

Prä- / Frühsargonisch Syrien Norden Süden unb. 3

Nippur 2 unb. 1

vd. 37

DINGIR

Iš-me-lum Fara 1 Èš-me-

Nippur 1

DINGIR

Èš-melum Èš-me

Girsu 4 Umma 1 Susa 1

Umma 2 Zabalam 1 Umma 1

Ur 2

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Belege Fara-Zeit Fara: No. 228; Isin: No. 283; TAS: No. 87. Prä-/Frühsargonisch Beydar: Subartu 2, 5 i 7; Nippur: No. 682, 683; Umma: No. 808, 810; Zabalam: No. 874; Herk. unb.: No. 937. Akkade-Zeit Dijala: AIHA 4 iii 5; 10 ii 10; 13:2; AuOr 9, 142 i 9′; ELTS 43 vii 18; MAD 1, 66 i′ 1′; 163Rs. iv′ 15; v′ 6; MVN 3, 111 ii 3′; Or 51, 356 i 5; Tutub 9:7. Gasur: HSS 10, S. XXXIV. Girsu: ITT 1, 1475:10; 5, 6688:4′. Kiš: MAD 5, 33 ii 9. MO: ELTS, S. 172, No. 40. Sippar: ELTS, S. 172, No. 41 (Iš-má-ì-lum); CT 44, 48:35 (2×). Susa: MDP 14, 56:3′ (Èš-me-DINGIR); 7:5, 11; 40:4, 6; 47:7; 66:4, 11; 71 v 3′, 8′; 85:6; MDP 24, 342:21. Umma: CT 50, 64:8. Herk. unb.: MVN 3, 30:5; 38:8; AfO 22, 13:11, 5 (Iš-me-DINGIR); 14:14, 6; 15, 17 (Iš-má-DINGIR). Ur III Hilgert 2002:261f., 560, 586.

Nur bei der alternativen Schreibweise mit ME ist eine Krasis bezeugt: /jišmē-’ilum/ > /jišmêlum/. Edzard (1998–2001:108) hat diesen Befund folgendermaßen analysiert:4 “Bei Iš/Èš-me-lum ist eine Krasis zwischen dem Auslaut der Verbalform und dem Anlaut von [’ilum] anzunehmen. Das war nur möglich, wenn die Verbalform vokalisch endete und nicht auf den Konsonanten [‘]. Steht hier eine vor-akkadische Form, oder waren [yišmē] und [yišma‘] synchrone Dialektvarianten, wobei die südliche Form [yišmē] früher durch engere Berührung mit dem Sumerischen entstanden wäre?”

Die Krasis ist im präsargonischen Onomastikon häufiger anzutreffen. Es lassen sich etwa noch folgende relativ sichere Beispiele anführen:

4

Zu dieser Krasis s. noch Di Vito 1993:238 (teilweise fehlerhaft); Roberts 1972:121, 137. – Im Gegensatz zur häufig vertretenen Auffassung (z. B. MAD 3, 274f.) liegt in Ì-lí-iš-ma-ni keine Kontraktion vor, der Name ist vielmehr zu deuten als iliš-mani ‘Dem Gott ist er lieb’ (zu manûm/menû ‘lieben’).

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Prä- und frühsargonisch A-¶a-lum ‘Bruder ist der Gott’ (Fara 175). A-¶ar-ši ‘Einen Bruder habe ich bekommen’ (Fara 176). I-ba4-lum ‘Der Gott ging einher’ (Mari 525).

Akkade-Zeit A-¶a-ì-lum und A-¶u-ì-lum (ELTS, S. 163). A-¶a-ar-ši (ELTS, S. 163; HSS 10, S. XXVII). Vgl. I-ba-LUGAL (JCS 35, 158:16, 10); I-ba-um (Kurzname, Edzard 1968– 1969:17, 27.2; MDP 14, 72 i 14′; ii 12′). I-bí-lum ‘Der Gott berief ’ (Nippur 644). I-bí-ì-lum (ELTS 40 B XIV 18). I-zi-lum ‘Der Gott ging heraus’ (Dilbat Ambivalent sind I-´i-LUM (MVN 3, 377), neben I-zi-ì-lum (Ur 860), I-zi-um 92:2) und I-ZI-LUM (passim), vgl. Hil(Mari 540). gert 2002:251. Ì-lí-¶i ‘Mein Gott ist mein Bruder’ (Nip- Ì-lí-a-¶i (passim). pur 661). Ra-bí-lum ‘Groß ist Gott’ (Girsu 425, Ra-bí-ì-lum (ELTS 41Rs. ii′ 7′), neben Umma 848). Ra-bí-lum (Umma, BIN 8, 324:4). Ra-ì-lum ‘Hirte ist Gott’ (Girsu 426). Vgl. SIPA-ì-tum (OAIC 6:4).

Die Krasis ist charakteristisch für das akkadische Onomastikon der Ur IIIZeit, s. ausführlich Hilgert 2002:65–79, während sie in der Akkade-Zeit nur relativ selten erscheint und dann meist nur im Süden, aus dem auch der größte Teil des Ur III-zeitlichen Belegmaterials stammt. Die Verwendung des Silbenzeichens È im Gottesnamen Ñajja (Ea)5 deutet ebenfalls auf eine Verschiebung oder Reduktion des Pharyngals /µ/. In der Akkade-Zeit ist die den Pharyngal reflektierende Schreibweise É-a (’À-a) üblich, die präsargonisch nur einmal erscheint (Adab 352).6 Stattdessen wird der Gottesname vielmehr mehrfach È-a geschrieben: Èa-ra-bí (Nippur 628), È-a-sar (629), PÙ.ŠA-È-a (Umma 833). In der Akkade-Zeit finden sich dafür nur vereinzelt im Süden Belege, s. Hilgert 2002: 215. Das Syllabogramm È wechselt sonst nicht mit É, sondern mit I und steht wohl für /(j)e/, vgl. Hasselbach 2005:87f. Damit ist die Aussprache des Namens anscheinend derjenigen vergleichbar, die in der Ur III-Zeit verbreitet war und die offensichtlich ohne stark artikulierten konsonantischen Anlaut erfolgte, wie die Sandhi-Schreibungen Du-šu-me-a, I-dì-ne-a, Na-ra(-am)-me-a, s. Hilgert 2002:67–69, zeigen. Auch die häufige Schreibweise mit dem Syllabogramm PI in pi-lí/lum, für die sich in der Akkade-Zeit nur eine Parallele findet (NIN-pi-lí MVN 5

Zur Etymologie s. u. a. Müller 2002:505ff.; Roberts 1972:19ff.; Selz 2002: 663ff.; Tonietti 2003:668f. 6 Vgl. Hasselbach 2005:80f. Zur Möglichkeit, daß zur Wiedergabe des Namens É-a auch die verkürzte Schreibweise É Verwendung findet, s. Hilgert 2002: 213f.; Tonietti 2003:666ff.

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3, 21:11), während für /ba‘lī/ usw. üblicherweise BAD-lí geschrieben wird, spricht für die Reduktion des Pharyngals, da PI sonst nur die KV-Zeichen BI und BÍ zur Wiedergabe von /be/ und /bi/ ersetzt, s. Steinkeller 2004b. Falls der Name UŠ-rí-bum (Nippur 749) als Ìr-rí-bum zu interpretieren ist und dann zu Ìr-ì-bum zu stellen wäre – wofür in der Akkade-Zeit fast immer Ìr-e-bum belegt ist –, wäre wie in der Ur III-Zeit wohl ein Lautübergang von r’b zu rīb zu konstatieren, s. Hilgert 2002:362ff. Liquide Ein Phänomen, das in der Ur III-Zeit öfter zu verzeichnen ist, besteht in der intervokalischen Reduktion von /l/ und /r/, s. Hilgert 2002:471, Anm. 102 bzw. 194ff. Hierfür gibt es in der davorliegenden klassisch-sargonischen Periode keine Parallelen, vielleicht aber im folgenden frühsargonischen Namen aus Umma: Ì-lum-ma--ik (820). Kurzformen Im Gegensatz zum Onomastikon der Akkade-Zeit sind für dasjenige der Ur III-Zeit Verkürzungen charakteristisch, bei denen die Kasusmorpheme bzw. das Subjekt fortgelassen werden (z. B. I-bí Hilgert 2002:455, I-tur 370, I-¢ì-ib 375, Ib-ni 418; Ba-ni 425, 430, Ša-lim 215, und passim). Hierfür finden sich auch präsargonisch mehrere Beispiele: Prä- und frühsargonisch Akkade-Zeit A-ku-a¶ (Mari 508) neben A-ku-a-¶a (507) a-¶u, a-¶a usw. passim, a¶ ist sehr sel(vgl. Hilgert 2002:626 usw.). ten (Ú-tá-a¶ FAOS 19, S. 151 (Si 1:7′); MAD 1, 163 ii 8). Èš-me (Umma 808). Keine Kurzform Èš/Iš-me, Iš-má usw. Úa-bil (Girsu 403). Úa-bil-si-im (AIHA 13:6). La-qip (Zabalam 881), La-qipx(GIB) (Um- Nur La-qì-pum. ma 826) neben La-qì-pum (Nippur 687) (vgl. Hilgert 2002:651 usw.). Ma-¶ir (Isin 458). Keine Kurzform neben Ma-ma-¶i-ir (MAD 5, 66Rs. iii 7), Ma-ma-¶ir(-su) (ELTS, S. 174; HSS 10, S. XXXV! u. ö.). Ra-bí (Girsu 424). Ra-bí (MDP 14, 8:25) neben Ra-bíDINGIR/ì-lum usw. passim.

4.3. Die Differenzierung der Sibilanten Die Wiedergabe der Sibilanten gehört zu den komplexesten phonologischen Problemen im älteren Akkadischen, und deren Artikulation im ein-

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zelnen sowie die Prozesse und verschiedenen Phasen der Verschiebungen sind noch keineswegs vollständig geklärt. Im Rahmen dieses Beitrags kann nur der Aspekt untersucht werden, ob die präsargonische Differenzierung mit derjenigen der Akkade- oder aber der Ur III-Zeit zusammengeht, die sich signifikant unterscheiden. Das orthographische System zur Wiedergabe der Sibilanten stellt sich folgendermaßen dar. Es steht ein Inventar von drei Zeichenreihen {S}, {Š} und {Z} zur Darstellung von neun protosemitischen Phonemen (¬ ¯ À s z ´ ś ¥ š) zur Verfügung. Akkade-Zeit: In der offiziellen “Sprache von Akkade” werden die Reihen {S}, {Š} und {Z} konsequent auseinandergehalten. Überschneidungen sind nur vereinzelt zwischen den Reihen {S} und {Š} festzustellen. Ur III-Zeit: Die Reihen {S} und {Š} werden promiscue gebraucht. Konsequente Opposition besteht zur Reihe {Z}. Altbabylonische Zeit (Norden): Mit {S} und {Z} werden Allophone in konditionierter Umgebung wiedergegeben; während {Z} die Gruppe der Affrikaten (ts dz t´) repräsentiert, bezeichnet {S} den deaffrizierten Sibilanten /s/. Opposition besteht zur Reihe {Š}. Die Zusammenhänge können tabellarisch folgendermaßen festgehalten werden (PrPh = Protosemitische Phoneme): Zeit Akkade Ur III aB

Reihen Graph. 3 {S} 2 {S}/{Š} 3 {Š}

PrPh šś šś¬ šś¬

Graph. {Š}

PrPh ¬

Graph. {Z} {Z} {Z} {S}

PrPh sz´ ¯À ¥ sz´ ¯À ¥ sz´ ¯À ¥ (Affrikaten) s (deaffriziert)

Die Übersicht läßt sich in der Anordnung nach beispielhaften Syllabogrammen noch etwas einfacher gestalten: Akkade Ur III aB

SA

ŠA

ZA

SA/ŠA

ZA

ŠA

ZA

(Affrikaten) / SA (s < ts)

Da sich das recht komplexe System der Syllabogramme, die in der Orthographie der Akkade-Zeit im Gebrauch sind (vgl. Hasselbach 2005:95– 97), nur teilweise mit der noch ziemlich begrenzten Überlieferung der davorliegenden Perioden vergleichen läßt, soll sich die nachfolgende Untersuchung auf die am besten bezeugten und funktional gut analysierbaren Zeichengruppen konzentrieren. Dabei besteht die zentrale Fragestellung darin, ob die Zeichenreihen {S} und {Š} wie in der Akkade-Zeit

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auseinandergehalten werden oder aber wie in der Ur III-Zeit zusammengefallen sind. Die diesbezügliche Sachlage hat Hilgert folgendermaßen zusammengefaßt: “A significant portion of the distinct orthographic conventions characterizing the better part of the Sargonic Akkadian textual tradition is abandoned completely in the Ur III period. This observation applies in particular to the graphic representation of the Akkadian sibilants. Regarding the orthography of Ur III Akkadian, universal and rigidly followed writing conventions cannot be detected. In fact, the seemingly arbitrary interchangeability of presumably homophonic syllabograms and syllabogram sequences may be addressed as the one overriding characteristic of the Akkadian orthography in the Ur III period” (Hilgert 2003:10, § 4.6.3).

Die “Sprache von Akkade” unterscheidet sehr konsequent zwischen: I. II. III.

Pronominalsuffix Genitiv, Silbe /su/ Selbständiges Personalpronomen, Pronominalsuffix Akkusativ Anaphorisches Pronomen

SU SU4 ŠU

Anhand von Beispielen aus dem Obelisk des Maništušu (ELTS 40) soll diese Verteilung verdeutlicht werden. I KÙ.BABBAR-su(-nu)

su-kà-nu Pù-su-GI Su-mu-GN Su-mu-GI

II Su4-ma-ba-ni Su4-ma-mu-tum Su4-ma-SIPA Mi-su4-a Su4-a-tum-mu-da

III šu PN usw. Šu-GN Šu-ì-li Šu-ì-lí-su

Eine äquivalente Verteilung läßt sich präsargonisch in Texten nordbabylonischer Provenienz feststellen, wie “Kudurrus” aus Dilbat (ELTS 37) und Sippar (ELTS 36) zeigen. Das Syllabogramm SU ist allerdings nicht gebräuchlich, an dessen Stelle wird SÙ verwendet. Dilbat (ELTS 37, s. o. 2.3) I SÁM-sù

Il-sù-LAK647 PÙ.ŠA-sù-DU10

II Su4-ma-ma-lik

III (nicht belegt)

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II Su4-ma-ba-ni Su4-ma-mu-tum Su4-ma-SIPA Mi-su4-a Su4-a-tum-mu-da

KÙ.BABBAR-su(-nu)

su-kà-nu Pù-su-GI Su-mu-GN Su-mu-GI

III šu PN usw. Šu-GN Šu-ì-li Šu-ì-lí-su

Eine äquivalente Verteilung läßt sich präsargonisch in Texten nordbabylonischer Provenienz feststellen, wie “Kudurrus” aus Dilbat (ELTS 37) und Sippar (ELTS 36) zeigen. Das Syllabogramm SU ist allerdings nicht gebräuchlich, an dessen Stelle wird SÙ verwendet. Dilbat (ELTS 37, s. o. 2.3) I SÁM-sù

Il-sù-LAK647 PÙ.ŠA-sù-DU10

II Su4-ma-ma-lik

III (nicht belegt)

II Su4-be-lí

III šu Šu-Aš-tár Šu-ì-li

Sippar (ELTS 36, s. o. 2.9) I SÁM-sù

In der Fara-Zeit ist eine vergleichbare Differenzierung nicht festzustellen. In Abū Ôalābī¶ (s. o. 1.3) sind die entsprechenden Syllabogramme SU/SÙ/SU13 mit folgender freier Verwendung bezeugt: I I-su-BAL [I]l-su-a-¶a Il-su-GÀR AD-sù Il-sù-a-¶a Il-sù-ma-lik I-su13-BAL

II Su-ma-a-ba4/¶a

III (nicht belegt)

sù Sù-ma-me-ru Su13-ma-a-¶a

Ebensowenig zeigen die Belege aus Fara (s. o. 1.6) ein regelhaftes Muster bei der Verteilung der Syllabogramme SU/SÙ/SU4/ŠU: I Su-mu-Aš?-tár? Il-sù-nu--ru

II Šu-a-ba4 ‘Er ist Vater’ Su4-a-bi ‘Er ist mein Vater’

III (nicht belegt)

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PS Nippur (s. o. 2.8) I Il-su-ra-bí Pù-su GN-al-sù

II Su4-i-bí Su4-ma-BA

III Šu-GN

II Šu-ome?-NIp (vgl. Aš-tárme-ni MAD 1, 3 iii 6). Šu-pi-lum (vgl. Su4-be-lum ASJ 4, 11f. ii 7; iii 12 u. ö.).

III Šu-GN

PS Umma (s. o. 2.10) I Pù-su-GI

Herkunft unbekannt (s. o. 2.14–15) I è-tá-su Il-su-ERIM+x Pù-su-GI Su-mu-dA-a Il-sù-GÀR

II Su-m[a-m]e-ru

III šu

A-tá-kál-sù Su4-ma-ra-bí Su4-pi-lí

Diese insgesamt noch nicht sehr zahlreichen Belege bieten immerhin folgendes Bild. Eine Differenzierung analog zum Obelisk des Maništušu zwischen dem Pronominalsuffix Genitiv und dem selbständigen Personalpronomen zeigt neben Dilbat und Sippar noch die Nippur-Überlieferung. Das System, das in der “Sprache von Akkade” konsequent verwendet wird, war also zuvor nicht allgemein verbreitet.7 Wie in der Ur IIIZeit wechseln die Syllabogramme der {S}- und {Š}-Reihen in Fara und Umma. In welchem Ausmaß dieser Zusammenfall bereits üblich geworden war, läßt sich allerdings noch kaum beurteilen, da das aussagekräftige Material einen geringen Umfang aufweist und regional noch beträchtliche Überlieferungslücken bestehen. Ein weiteres Beispiel für die unterschiedliche Darstellung der Sibilanten ist in dem häufigen Namen A-¶a-ar-ši (u. ä.) zu finden.

7 Die sprachliche Realisierung, die dieser Verteilung zugrunde liegt, wird unterschiedlich interpretiert, s. Hasselbach 2005:154f.; 2006. Eine Diskussion des Sachverhalts soll an anderer Stelle geführt werden.

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Präsarg. TAS Präsarg. Fara

A-¶a-ar-si

Präsarg. Mari Präsarg. Beydar (Subartu 2, S. 187)

Ar-si-a-¶a

A-¶ar-ši

Akkade-Zeit

Ur III-Zeit (Hilgert 2002:627 usw.)

ŠI

A-¶a-am-ar-si (4) Ar-si-a¶ (2)

Ar-ši-a-¶a (späte Kopie) Ar-ši-a-¶u

A-¶a-ar-ši (ELTS, S. 163; HSS 10, S. XXVII) Ar-ši-a-¶a (HSS 10, S. XXVIII) A-¶a-am-ar-ši (4) A-¶a-ar-ši (1) Ar-ši-a¶ (104)

Im Obelisk des Maništušu (s. ELTS, S. 163) wird ŠI verwendet. Die Variante mit SI ist regional und diachron mehrfach bezeugt, so daß sie als alternative Artikulation koexistiert haben muß. Das konsequente System von drei getrennten Sibilantenreihen, das in der offiziellen “Sprache von Akkade” realisiert wird, ist also präsargonisch ebensowenig wie in der Ur III-Zeit durchgängig, der partielle Zusammenfall der Sibilanten also wohl schon eingetreten. 4.4. Morphologie Status constructus Eines der charakteristischen Merkmale der Morphologie, das den Dialekt der Akkade-Zeit abhebt, liegt im Status constr. im Gen. Sg. mask. vor, der durchgängig mit -i gebildet wird, während das Babylonische hier kein Morphem verwendet (vgl. Hasselbach 2005:182f.). Das einzige präsargonische Beispiel für eine entsprechende Genitivverbindung folgt dem babylonischen Sprachgebrauch: 1 BUR GÁN šu pá-la-ag da-da-rí-im ‘18 iku Land am Kanal mit daddarum-Pflanzen’ (ELTS 38 i 9, Sippar).

In der “Sprache von Akkade” wäre hier /palgi/ zu erwarten. 5. “Babylonisch” in der Akkade-Zeit Wenn folglich einige sprachliche Innovationen, die charakteristisch für das Ur III-Akkadische sind, bereits vor der Akkade-Zeit erscheinen, stellt

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sich die Frage, ob bzw. wo derartige Merkmale neben der offiziellen “Sprache von Akkade” koexistierten. Um diese zu lokalisieren, muß ein komplexes analytisches Instrumentarium zum Einsatz kommen. Unter anderem sind folgende Gegebenheiten herauszufinden: – Stammt ein Text aus dem Zusammenhang der offiziellen Verwaltung bzw. der übergeordneten Administration,8 oder gehört er einer lokalen Überlieferung oder einem Privatarchiv an? – Sind Schreiber aus der Zentralverwaltung tätig, oder agieren provinzielle Schreibkundige? – Zeigen die Tafelformen und der Duktus die charakteristischen Merkmale und die Einheitlichkeit des allgemein eingeführten Standards von Akkade, oder ist beispielsweise ein einfacher, flüchtiger Duktus festzustellen, liegen grober, schlecht ausgeschlämmter Ton, eine ungewöhnliche Tafelform usw. vor?

Wenn eine solche Untersuchung systematisch bei der gesamten Überlieferung der Akkade-Zeit durchgeführt wird, kommen vielfältige lokale sprachliche Besonderheiten zutage, die sich eindeutig von der “Sprache von Akkade” unterscheiden.9 Dies ist beispielsweise in einer Textgruppe aus Ešnunna der Fall, von denen die meisten von Gelb in OAIC veröffentlicht wurden, s. die vorläufige Skizze in Sommerfeld 1999:10–12. Doch auch wenn die Familie des Königs und hohe Offizielle involviert sind, kann ein lokales sprachliches Register zur Anwendung kommen, z. B. in einem privatwirtschaftlichen (“private household”) und -rechtli8 Vgl. etwa die prägnante Charakterisierung wesentlicher Merkmale von Westenholz 1984:17ff. 9 Hasselbach (2007) kommt zu folgendem Schluß (l. c. 42): “There is a clear North-South dichotomy in the linguistic evidence from the Sargonic period. The northern evidence, centring around the Diyala region, is the most innovative corpus of this time period and a predecessor of later Babylonian, while southern Babylonian texts and original royal inscriptions preserve a more archaic stage of Akkadian.” Die Daten, die sie für ihre Analyse zugrunde legt (S. 27, 31f., 39), sind allerdings keineswegs geeignet, entsprechende Schlußfolgerungen ausreichend zu begründen. Es handelt sich überwiegend um Briefe, deren Herkunft in der Regel unbekannt ist, die in FAOS 19 aber meist ganz und gar ungerechtfertigt unter einer Gruppe “Briefe aus dem Diyālā-Gebiet” (S. 153–169, Di 1–11) eingeordnet wurden. Selbst wenn Ešnunna als Fundort feststeht, ist eher davon auszugehen, daß Dialektmerkmale aus dem Umfeld des Absenders als des Adressaten verschriftet wurden, ein Sachverhalt, den Hasselbach aber nicht reflektiert. Weitere Texte ihrer Belegsammlung stammen aus privatem Kontext (z. B. Wohnhäusern), die oft eine andere sprachliche Varietät als die offiziellen Archive wiedergeben. Diglossie ist in Wirklichkeit in der Akkade-Zeit nahezu überall festzustellen.

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chen Kontext. Im Rahmen dieses Beitrags kann dies nur exemplarisch an einem Beispiel demonstriert werden. Mugdan (Umm el-Jīr) Aus diesem Ort in der Nähe von Kiš stammt eine Textgruppe von ca. 40 Verwaltungsurkunden und drei Briefen.10 Sie werden folgendermaßen charakterisiert: “(The) texts are (1) the remains of an official archive of an Akkadian royal domain during the reign of Naram-Sin, and (2) a group of intramural and private documents, most of which apparently belonged to a household that administered this domain” (Foster 1982b:38). Eine Reihe von sprachlichen Merkmalen unterscheidet diese Textgruppe von der überwiegend üblichen kontemporären Überlieferung der Akkade-Zeit. Sibilanten Wie oben dargestellt, werden im offiziellen Akkadischen orthographisch getrennt: (I) Pronominalsuffix Genitiv, Silbe /su/, (II) selbständiges Personalpronomen, Pronominalsuffix Akkusativ, (III) anaphorisches Pronomen. Die folgende Tabelle führt in der ersten Zeile einige der hierfür gängigen Syllabogramme auf. Die Mugdan-Texte zeigen dagegen eine teilweise freie Verwendung des betreffenden Syllabars, ein sonst erst in der Ur III-Zeit verbreitetes Phänomen. (I) SA / SI / SU i-ša-aq [1]

(II) SU4 Su4-ma-DINGIR [2] Su4-ma-´a-ba [3]

(III) ŠA / ŠI / ŠU šu-ut [5] su-ut [6]

Šu-me-eg-rí / Šu-mi-ig-rí [4]

Su-Ma-ma [7]

[1] ASJ 4, 27 ii 3 (dort als PN aufgefaßt; folgende alternative Interpretation ist wohl vorzuziehen: SIG5-iš im-dú-ud / SIG5-iš i-ša-aq ‘gut hat er abgemessen, gut hat er (das Korngefäß) geglättet’, zu šêqum). [2] MAD 5, 66 ii 4. [3] FAOS 19, S. 149 (Pu 3:2); MAD 5, 67 ii 8. [4] ASJ 4, 22a:6; BIN 8, 121 i 7. [5] ASJ 4, 28 vi 15; MAD 5, 68 ii 2 (sonst šu-ti, vgl. Hasselbach 2005:161, 164). [6] BIN 8, 121 iv 1 (neben šu ii 10). [7] BIN 8, 121 iii 11 (neben Šu-Ma-[ma] MAD 5, 92:5). 10

Zu dieser Textgruppe s. die ausführliche Behandlung von Foster 1982b; 1983:173f.; vgl. FAOS 19, S. 148–150; Visicato 2000:209–212 mit weiterer Lit. Auch BIN 8, 121 (Bearbeitung Edzard 1982) ist dieser Gruppe zuzuordnen; die Kollation des Textes ergab, daß dieser dieselben spezifischen äußeren Merkmale bezüglich der Schrift- und Tafelform aufweist, vgl. hierzu Foster 1982b:10, 35f.; 1983:173.

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157

Das Determinativpronomen weist im Sing. eine einheitliche Form ša auf; belegt sind Nom. mask. und Akk. fem.: kaspum(KÙ.BABBAR) ša MU.2.KAM.MA ‘(⅓ Mine, 4 Sekel) Silber ist (der Betrag) von zwei Jahren’ (MAD 5, 101 ii′ 5; vgl. ASJ 4, 18f.; MAD 3, 252). eqlam(GÁN) ša ON ‘das Feld von ON (sollen sie bewässern)’ (FAOS 19, S. 149 (Pu 3:5f.); vgl. sonst ša-at, s. MAD 3, 58 und 253).

Beim Konjugationspräfix im D- und Š-Stamm wird das Syllabogramm für /ju/ nicht mehr verwendet, die Opposition mit Ù für /’u/ ist aufgehoben, und es ist – wie altbabylonisch – nur noch Ú im Gebrauch: U

ú-ba-rí ú-kál-lim ú-se11-´í

(Bedeutung unsicher) (ASJ 4, 15:4; vgl. S. 19); ‘er zeigte’ (l. c. 16 ii 12); ‘er führte hinaus’ (l. c. 17 iv 15).

Anstelle der “altbabylonischen” Form ú-se11-´í ist in der Akkade-Zeit sonst u-su-´i/´í üblich (s. Sommerfeld 2003:580f.). Bei den Verben med. Alef ist der Übergang zur Gruppe med. ā – also von der starken zur schwachen Flexion – vollzogen: ‘er strich glatt’ (zu ASJ 4, 27 ii 3 s. o., zu erwarten wären etwa: iš-aq oder iš-’à-aq); i-ša-ru ‘er besiegte’ (ASJ 4, 23 iv 2, sonst iš11-a-ru vgl. FAOS 8, S. 276– 278); a-na na-si ‘zum Leben’ (BIN 8, 121 iv 7, sonst na-’à-si u. ä. AfO 22, 17, 27:2; ELTS 40 B xi 15; FAOS 8, S. 259; FAOS 19, S. 274f.; MAD 1, 135Rs.:4′). i-ša-aq

Diese Flexion ist die gleiche wie diejenige der Ur III-Zeit und “typisch babylonisch”. Zusammenfassung und Ausblick Die hier präsentierte Zusammenstellung von insgesamt 1000 Einträgen prä-akkadischer Sprachzeugnisse besteht überwiegend aus Eigennamen. Auch wenn sich die Gesamtzahl reduziert, weil in dieser nach Orten gegliederten Materialsammlung einige Elemente mehrfach erscheinen, und wenn die unklaren und unsicheren Belege, die keine Basis für aussagekräftige Schlußfolgerungen bieten, nicht weiter in Betracht gezogen werden, bleiben einige Hundert Belege, bei denen Etymologie und Morphologie sicher bestimmt werden können. Diese prä-akkadischen Sprachelemente bieten keineswegs ein einheitliches Bild. Einige weisen ausgesprochen archaische Merkmale auf und stehen der “Sprache von Akkade” nahe, die dann von den Herrschern

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der Akkade-Dynastie als offizielle Verwaltungssprache etabliert wird, während andere insbesondere in Sumer sich schon früh durch Innovationen abheben und bereits in der Fara-Zeit Merkmale aufweisen – etwa die Reduktion von Phonemen –, wie sie für das Akkadische der Ur IIIZeit charakteristisch sind. Gewisse spezifische Dialektmerkmale, die typisch für das Babylonische sind, aber in der “Sprache von Akkade” fehlen, sind also bereits sehr früh nachzuweisen. Daraus darf jedoch keineswegs der Schluß gezogen werden, daß das Akkadische der Ur III-Zeit mit der prä-akkadischen Sprachstufe gleichzusetzen wäre; es bestehen in vielfacher Hinsicht manifeste Unterschiede, deren Darstellung aber im Einzelnen erst noch erfolgen muß. Über welche Prozesse sich die prä-akkadischen Dialekte, die seit der Fara-Zeit bezeugt sind, zum Babylonischen entwickelt haben, ist noch nicht erforscht. Auch die präzise Dokumentation des ostsemitischen Sprach- oder Dialektkontinuums von Sumer bis Ebla ist noch ein Desiderat. Wie in vielen anderen Gesellschaften (z. B. in der arabischen Welt) müssen wir auch in der Akkade-Zeit mit der Koexistenz von Standardsprache und Dialekten rechnen. Diglossie, bei der es eine klare funktionale Differenzierung zwischen zwei eng verwandten Sprachvarietäten gibt, die ausgeprägte Gleichzeitigkeit einer überregionalen Hochsprache, die schriftlich und in formellen Kontexten verwendet wird, und einer Vielzahl von mündlich und in informellen Kontexten verwendeten Dialekten kennzeichnet möglicherweise auch die sprachliche Situation der Akkade-Zeit. Es wird allerdings noch gründliche Forschung erforderlich sein, um die Zusammenhänge im Einzelnen zu klären. Literaturverzeichnis Alberti 1981 Alberti–Pomponio 1986 Alster 2005 Amiet 1980 Archi 1981 Archi–Biga 2003

Alberti, A. Besprechung von Biggs, R. D. Inscriptions from Al-Hiba–Lagash. The First and Second Seasons (BiMes 3). Malibu, 1976. Or 50:252–257. Alberti, A.; Pomponio, F. Pre-Sargonic and Sargonic Texts from Ur Edited in UET 2, Suppplement (StP SM 13). Rome. Alster, B. Wisdom of Ancient Sumer. Bethesda. Amiet, P. La glyptique mésopotamienne archaïque. Deuxième édition revue et corrigée avec un supplément. Paris. Archi, A. La “Lista di nomi e professioni” ad Ebla. StEb 4:177–204. Archi, A.; Biga, M. G. A Victory over Mari and the Fall of Ebla. JCS 55:1–44.

W. Sommerfeld, Prä-Akkadisch… Archi–Pomponio–Stol 1999 Biggs 1974 Biggs 1988

Borger 2004 Buchanan 1966 Buchanan 1981 Catagnoti 1998

Charpin 1987 Charpin 1990 Cohen 1993 Conti 1990 Di Vito 1993 Durand 1982 Edzard 1968–1969 Edzard 1976–1980 Edzard 1982

Edzard 1998–2001 Foster 1982a Foster 1982b

159

Archi, A.; Pomponio, F.; Stol, M. Testi cuneiformi di vario contenuto. Torino. Biggs, R. Inscriptions from Tell Abū Ôalābīkh (OIP 99). Chicago. Biggs, R. The Semitic Personal Names from Abu Salabikh and the Personal Names from Ebla. Archi, A. (Hrsg.). Eblaite Personal Names and Semitic Name-Giving (ARES 1). Roma. Pp. 89–98. Borger, R. Mesopotamisches Zeichenlexikon (AOAT 305). Münster. Buchanan, B. Catalogue of Ancient Near Eastern Seals in the Ashmolean Museum. Vol. I. Cylinder Seals. Oxford. Buchanan, B. Early Near Eastern Seals in the Yale Babylonian Collection. New Haven. Catagnoti, A. The III Millennium Personal Names from the Úabur Triangle in the Ebla, Brak and Mozan Texts. Lebeau, M. (ed.). About Subartu. Studies Devoted to Upper Mesopotamia. Vol. 2. Culture, Society, Image (Subartu 4/2). Turnhout. Pp. 41–66. Charpin, D. Tablettes présargoniques de Mari. MARI 5:65–127. Charpin, D. Nouvelles tablettes présargoniques de Mari. MARI 6:245–252. Cohen, M. The Cultic Calendars of the Ancient Near East. Bethesda. Conti, G. Il sillabario della quarta fonte della lista lessicale bilingue eblaita (QuSem 17). Firenze. Di Vito, R. A. Studies in Third Millennium Sumerian and Akkadian Personal Names. The Designation and Conception of the Personal God (StP SM 16). Roma. Durand, J.-M. Documents cunéiformes de la IVe Section de l’École pratique des Hautes Études. T. I. Gèneve–Paris. Edzard, D. O. Die Inschriften der altakkadischen Rollsiegel. AfO 22:12–20. Edzard, D. O. Il. RlA 5:46–48. Edzard, D. O. Qīšum, Ensi von Kazallu. Van Driel, G.; Krispijn, Th. J. H.; Stol, M.; Veenhof, K. R. (eds.). Zikir šumim. Assyriological Studies Presented to F. R. Kraus on the Occasion of His Seventieth Birthday. Leiden. Pp. 26–33. Edzard, D. O. Name, Namengebung (Onomastik). B. Akkadisch. RlA 9:103–116. Foster, B. R. Ethnicity and Onomastics in Sargonic Mesopotamia. Or 51:297–354. Foster, B. R. An Agricultural Archive from Sargonic Akkad. ASJ 4:7–51.

160 Foster 1983 Frayne 1992 Gelb 1957 Gelb 1961 Gelb 1969 Gelb 1981 Gelb 1992 Glassner 1995

Hasselbach 2005 Hasselbach 2006 Hasselbach 2007 Hilgert 2002 Hilgert 2003 Hilgert 2004

Ismail et al. 1996 Kraus 1970 Krebernik 1982 Krebernik 1983 Krebernik 1985

Opening Lectures Foster, B. R. Collations to the Umm el-Jir Tablets. ASJ 5:173–174. Frayne, D. The Early Dynastic List of Geographical Names (AOS 74). New Haven. Gelb, I. J. Glossary of Old Akkadian (MAD 3). Chicago. Gelb, I. J. Old Akkadian Writing and Grammar. Second Edition, Revised and Enlarged (MAD 22). Chicago. Gelb, I. J. Sequential Reconstruction of Proto-Akkadian (AS 18). Chicago. Gelb, I. J. Ebla and the Kish Civilization. Cagni, L. (Hrsg.). La lingua di Ebla. Atti del Convegno internazionale (Napoli, 21–23 aprile 1980). Napoli. Pp. 9–73. Gelb, I. J. Mari and the Kish Civilization. Young, G. D. (Hrsg.). Mari in Retrospect. Fifty Years of Mari and Mari Studies. Winona Lake. Pp. 121–202. Glassner, J.-J. Besprechung von Gelb, I. J.; Steinkeller, P.; Whiting, R. M. Earliest Land Tenure Systems in the Near East: Ancient Kudurrus (OIP 104). Chicago, 1991. BiOr 52:5–24. Hasselbach, R. Sargonic Akkadian. A Historical and Comparative Study of the Syllabic Texts. Wiesbaden. Hasselbach, R. Interpreting Early Akkadian Orthography: A Note on Pronominal Suffixes in Sargonic Akkadian. ZA 96:161–177. Hasselbach, R. The Affiliation of Sargonic Akkadian with Babylonian and Assyrian: New Insights Concerning the Internal Sub-Grouping of Akkadian. JSS 52:21–44. Hilgert, M. Akkadisch in der Ur III-Zeit (IMGULA 5). Münster. Hilgert, M. New Perspectives in the Study of Third Millennium Akkadian. CDLJ 4:1–10. Hilgert, M. Zur Stellung des Ur III-Akkadischen innerhalb der akkadischen Sprachgeschichte. Meyer, J.-W.; Sommerfeld, W. (Hrsg.). 2000 v. Chr. Politische, wirtschaftliche und kulturelle Entwicklung im Zeichen einer Jahrtausendwende (CDOG 3). Saarbrücken. Pp. 185–204. Ismail, F.; Sallaberger, W.; Talon, Ph.; van Lerberghe, K. Administrative Documents from Tell Beydar (Seasons 1993– 1995) (Subartu 2). Turnhout. Kraus, F. R. Sumerer und Akkader, ein Problem der altmesopotamischen Geschichte. Amsterdam–London. Krebernik, M. Zu Syllabar und Orthographie der lexikalischen Texte aus Ebla. Teil 1. ZA 72:178–236. Krebernik, M. Zu Syllabar und Orthographie der lexikalischen Texte aus Ebla. Teil 2 (Glossar). ZA 73:1–47. Krebernik, M. Zur Entwicklung der Keilschrift im III. Jahrtausend anhand der Texte aus Ebla. Ein Vergleich

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Krebernik 1988 Krebernik 1992 Krebernik 1993–1994

Krebernik 1993–1997 Krebernik 1998

Krebernik 2002

Krecher 1973 Krecher 1984 Lambert 1980–1983 Mander 1986 Marchesi 2006 Martin et al. 2001 Milano et al. 2004 Müller 2002 Pagan 1998 Pettinato 1997 Pomponio 1991 Roberts 1972

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zwischen altakkadischem und eblaitischem Schriftsystem. AfO 32:53–59. Krebernik, M. Die Personennamen der Ebla-Texte. Eine Zwischenbilanz (BBVO 7). Berlin. Krebernik, M. Mesopotamian Myths at Ebla: ARET 5, 6 and ARET 5, 7. QuSem 18:63–149. Krebernik, M. Besprechung von Gelb, I. J.; Steinkeller, P.; Whiting, R. M. Earliest Land Tenure System in the Near East: Ancient Kudurrus (OIP 104). Chicago, 1991. AfO 40– 41:88–91. Krebernik, M. Mondgott. A. I. In Mesopotamien. RlA 8: 360–369. Krebernik, M. Die Texte aus Fāra und Tell Abū Ôalābī¶. Bauer, J.; Englund, R. K.; Krebernik, M. Mesopotamien. Späturuk-Zeit und Frühdynastische Zeit (OBO 160/1). Freiburg–Göttingen. Pp. 237–427. Krebernik, M. Zur Struktur und Geschichte des älteren sumerischen Onomastikons. Streck, M. P.; Weninger, St. (Hrsg.). Altorientalische und semitische Onomastik (AOAT 296). Münster. Pp. 1–74. Krecher, J. Neue sumerische Rechtsurkunden des 3. Jahrtausends. ZA 63:145–271. Krecher, J. Sumerische und nichtsumerische Schicht in der Schriftkultur von Ebla. Cagni, L. (Hrsg.). Il bilinguismo a Ebla. Napoli. Pp. 139–166. Lambert, W. G. La¶ar. RlA 6:431. Mander, P. Il pantheon di Abu-Ôālabīkh. Napoli. Marchesi, G. Lumma in the Onomasticon and Literature of Ancient Mesopotamia (HANE/S 10). Padova. Martin, H. et al. The Fara Tablets in the University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology. Bethesda. Milano, L.; Sallaberger, W.; Talon, Ph.; van Lerberghe, K. Third Millennium Cuneiform Texts from Tell Beydar (Seasons 1996–2002) (Subartu 12). Turnhout. Müller, H.-P. Eva und das Paradies. Loretz, O. et al. (Hrsg.). Ex Mesopotamia et Syria lux. Festschrift für Manfred Dietrich (AOAT 281). Münster. Pp. 501–510. Pagan, J. M. A Morphological and Lexical Study of Personal Names in the Ebla Texts (ARES 3). Roma. Pettinato, G. L’uomo cominciò a scrivere. Iscrizioni cuneiformi della collezione Michail. Milano. Pomponio, F. I nomi personali dei testi amministrativi di Abū Ôalābī¶. SEL 8:141–147. Roberts, J. J. M. The Earliest Semitic Pantheon. A Study of the Semitic Deities Attested in Mesopotamia before Ur III. Baltimore–London.

162 Selz 1989 Selz 1993 Selz 1995 Selz 1998

Selz 2002

Sjöberg 1975 Sjöberg 2003 Sommerfeld 1999 Sommerfeld 2003

Sommerfeld 2004

Sommerfeld 2006

Steible–Yıldız 2000

Steinkeller 1979 Steinkeller 1987 Steinkeller 1993

Opening Lectures Selz, G. Die Altsumerischen Wirtschaftsurkunden der Eremitage zu Leningrad (FAOS 15/1). Stuttgart. Selz, G. Altsumerische Wirtschaftsurkunden aus amerikanischen Sammlungen. Bd. 1–2 (FAOS 15/2). Stuttgart. Selz, G. Untersuchungen zur Götterwelt des altsumerischen Stadtstaates von Lagaš. Philadelphia. Selz, G. du11-ga-ni-mu-gi-na, aber steht die Lesung von URU-KA-gi-na(-k) fest? Ein Beitrag zum Problem des göttlichen Wortes im sumerischen Personennamen. AoF 25:312–327. Selz, G. “Babilismus” und die Gottheit dNindagar. Loretz, O. et al. (Hrsg.). Ex Mesopotamia et Syria lux. Festschrift für Manfred Dietrich (AOAT 281). Münster. Pp. 647–684. Sjöberg, Å. Der Examenstext A. ZA 64:137–176. Sjöberg, Å. Notes on Selected Entries from the Ebla Vocabulary eš2-bar-kin5. I. Selz, G. (Hrsg.). Festschrift für Burkhart Kienast (AOAT 274). Münster. Pp. 527–568. Sommerfeld, W. Die Texte der Akkade-Zeit. 1. Das DijalaGebiet: Tutub (IMGULA 3/1). Münster. Sommerfeld, W. Bemerkungen zur Dialektgliederung Altakkadisch, Assyrisch und Babylonisch. Selz, G. (Hrsg.). Festschrift für Burkhart Kienast (AOAT 274). Münster. Pp. 569–586. Sommerfeld, W. Die inschriftliche Überlieferung des 3. Jahrtausends aus Tutub. Waetzoldt, Hartmut (Hrsg.), Von Sumer nach Ebla und zurück. Festschrift Giovanni Pettinato zum 27. September 1999 gewidmet von Freunden, Kollegen und Schülern (HSAO 9). Heidelberg. Pp. 285–292. Sommerfeld, W. Die ältesten semitischen Sprachzeugnisse – Eine kritische Bestandsaufnahme. Deutscher, G.; Kouwenberg, N. J. C. (Hrsg.). The Akkadian Language in Its Semitic Context (PIHANS 106). Leiden. Pp. 30–75. Steible, H.; Yıldız, F. Lapislazuli-Zuteilungen an die “Prominenz” von Šuruppak. Graziani, S. et al. (Hrsg.). Studi sul Vicino Oriente Antico dedicati alla memoria di L. Cagni. Napoli. Pp. 985–1032. Steinkeller, P. More Evidence for the Reading bulx of LAGAB×SUM. RA 73:91–92. Steinkeller, P. Besprechung von Foster, B. R. Umma in the Sargonic Period. Hamden, 1982. WZKM 77:182–195. Steinkeller, P. Observations on the Sumerian Personal Names in Ebla Sources and on the Onomasticon of Mari and Kish. Cohen, M. E. et al. (Hrsg.). The Tablet and the Scroll. Near Eastern Studies in Honor of William W. Hallo. Bethesda. Pp. 236–245.

W. Sommerfeld, Prä-Akkadisch… Steinkeller 1995 Steinkeller 2004a Steinkeller 2004b Steinkeller–Postgate 1992 Streck 2002

Tonietti 2003

Visicato 2000 Westenholz 1975a Westenholz 1975b

Westenholz 1975c Westenholz 1984 Westenholz 1988 Wilcke 1996 Wilcke 2007

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Steinkeller, P. Besprechung von Marzahn, J. Altsumerische Verwaltungstexte aus Girsu/Lagaš (VS 25). Berlin, 1991. JAOS 115:540–543. Steinkeller, P. Studies in Third Millennium Paleography 4. Sign KIŠ. ZA 94:175–185. Steinkeller, P. On the Writings of bēlum in Sargonic and Earlier Sources. NABU 2004/13. Steinkeller, P.; Postgate, J. N. Third-Millennium Legal and Administrative Texts in the Iraq Museum, Baghdad (MC 4). Winona Lake. Streck, M. P. Sprachliche Innovationen und Archaismen in den akkadischen Personennamen. Streck, M. P.; Weninger, St. (Hrsg.). Altorientalische und semitische Onomastik (AOAT 296). Münster. Pp. 109–122. Tonietti, M. V. É = bītum or = !à? About Ea in Early Dynastic Sources. Marrassini, P. (Hrsg.). Semitic and Assyriological Studies Presented to Pelio Fronzaroli. Wiesbaden. Pp. 666–679. Visicato, G. The Power and the Writing. The Early Scribes of Mesopotamia. Bethesda. Westenholz, Aa. Old Sumerian Administrative Documents in the Pontifical Biblical Institute in Rome. Or 44: 434–438. Westenholz, Aa. Old Sumerian and Old Akkadian Texts in Philadelphia Chiefly from Nippur. I. Literary and Lexical Texts and the Earliest Administrative Documents from Nippur (OSP 1). Malibu. Westenholz, Aa. Early Cuneiform Texts in Jena. København. Westenholz, Aa. The Sargonic Period. Archi, A. (Hrsg.). Circulation of Goods in Non-Palatial Context in the Ancient Near East. Rome. Pp. 17–30. Westenholz, Aa. Personal Names in Ebla and in Pre-Sargonic Babylonia. Archi, A. (Hrsg.). Eblaite Personal Names and Semitic Name-Giving (ARES 1). Roma. Pp. 99–117. Wilcke, C. Neue Rechtsurkunden der Altsumerischen Zeit. ZA 86:1–67. Wilcke, C. Early Ancient Near Eastern Law. A History of Its Beginnings. Winona Lake.

Languages of the Ancient Near East

Notes on the Plural Bases in Sumerian* Wakaha Mori Research Institute for Humanity and Nature, Kyoto

Introduction This paper deals with plural bases in Sumerian and aims to highlight their characteristics. As is well known, in several Sumerian verbs, the singular and plural forms have different bases. A prevailing explanation for this is that the plural bases indicate the plurality of either a subject or an object. In this paper, I will focus mainly on the major plural bases. The plural bases considered in this paper are as follows: durun, meaning ‘to sit,’ or ‘to be present’ (singular: tuš), sug meaning ‘to stand’ (singular: gub), la¶ ‘to take,’ or ‘to carry’ (singular: tum or de) and ere or sub ‘to go’ (singular: gen or du). Previous explanations on the plurality of these plural bases have primarily been based on their syntactic aspect. However, I suggest that a plural base is originally a verb that expresses presence or movement, and that it indicates that its internal argument is plural. In the first part of this paper, I will demonstrate the different types of nouns that are associated with plural bases. I will select two plural bases, ere and sub, meaning ‘to go.’ These two bases have been interpreted as different aspect forms of the same verb. Then, in the latter part of this paper, I will consider the types of nouns whose plurality can be shown by comparing the function of plural bases with that of plural pronominal suffixes in Sumerian. 1. Noun types Grammatically, Sumerian has two noun classes—human and nonhuman. In actuality, one more class of nouns is sometimes distinguished among nonhuman nouns, on the basis of animacy. This distinction among human, nonhuman animate and inanimate classes is very important when * This research was partially supported by a Grant-in-Aid for Scientific Research on Priority Areas, #17063006, 2005–2009 (Formation and diffusion of the Sumerian writing system, Prof. Kazuya Maekawa) from the Ministry of Education, Science, Sports and Culture of Japan.

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we discuss plural bases.1 The three-way distinction is illustrated below. The plural bases ere and sub do not indicate plurality for all types of nouns. Both of these bases are used to indicate the plurality of human or non-human animate nouns, not of inanimate nouns. It should be noted that the usage of ere and sub found in the texts of the third millennium BC are rather different from the ones found in later sources. 1.1. ere I will first consider the examples with ere. All the references provided below are from the third millennium BC. References (1)–(5) concern human nouns, while (6)–(9) concern nonhuman animate nouns. (human, third millennium BC) (1) Nik. 1, 133 iii 2–5 (Selz 1989) […] He2I-gal-ta HerxI(HDUI.DU)-ra-ne i3-Hgu7I ‘[Persons] going from the palace ate (5 gur of grain).’ (2) Nik. 1, 21 vii 1 (Selz 1989) šu-nigin2 23 lu2 ugula-GIN2-Hgi4I? erx(DU.DU)-HraI ‘Total of 23 persons going to (?) the foreman of …’ (3) NG 209 iii 56–58 (TMH NF 1–2, 271) /persons/ ki-nam-erim-še3 ud-3-am3 nu-um-e-re-eš ‘The persons did not come to the place of oath for three days.’ (4) TrD 85:4–5 (similar example: TrD 83:11) ud did2-lu2-ru-gu2-ta i3-im-e-re-eš2-ša-a ‘When they came from Idlurugu river …’ (5) TRU 305:3 (cf. Owen–Veenker 1987:287, A 3; CST 254:2: e-ra-ne) mu mar-tu maš-maš dilmun-ta e-ra-ne-še3 ‘In place for the Martu sorcerers, coming from Dilmun.’ e-ra-ne: MVN 13, 320rev.:1; UET 3, 1159:5; UET 9, 889:15′; UET 3, 1229:3; UET 3, 1054:7′; UET 9, 472:3′; UET 9, 958:1; UET 3, 1377:26; MVN 13, 196:3; e-ra: UET 3, 980:3; er-ra-ne-še3: TRU 334:4; SAT 2, 913obv.:5 (= MVN 5, 115:5); i3-im-e-re-ša: UET 3, 1633:11; i3-im-er-re-eš: NG 120b:9–10 (non-human, third millennium BC) (6) DP 83 iii 2–3 gud udu e2-barag-ga-ta i3-erx(DU.DU)-ra-am6 ‘Oxen and sheep, which came from Ebaraga.’

1

Sallaberger (2005) discusses verbal bases ‘to bring’ including the plural base la¶, and notes that de6 and tum2 take different types of nouns.

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169

(7) DP 240 i 2 anše kaskal-ta erx(DU.DU)-ra-am6 ‘They are donkeys coming from the expedition.’ (8) MVN 13, 32:1–3 0:0.4.5 sila3 še ša3-gal ir7mušen tu-gur8mušen e2-gal-še3 e-ra ‘45 sila of barley as rations to the ir-birds and tugur-birds going to the palace.’ (9) Hirose 407:2–3 ša3-gal ur-gi7-tur-tur e2-gal-ta er-ra ‘Rations to small dogs coming from the palace.’ er-ra: TUT 49:4; TCTI 2, 3794:8; BJRL 64, 61:2; JCS 11, 77:3; Nik. 2, 440obv.:1; Nik. 2, 440rev.:3; TSU 81:10; BAOM 2 33, 83:1; SA 7:3; TCTI 1, L.737 v 21; ibid. vi 15; AAICAB 1/1, pl. 19 Ashm. 1911–152:2; PIOL 19, 366:5 (er!-ra!); er-a-x: UMTBM 1, 3u.e.:2

References (1), (2), (6), and (7) date back to the Early Dynastic period, while the other references are from the Ur III sources. Usually, the logographic writings of ere, found in the Early Dynastic references, changed to the syllabic ones in the Ur III period. These writings are of two types, namely, e-r (Ur, Drehem and Umma) and er (Lagaš and Drehem). They simply reflect the regional difference in documentation and do not differ substantially in usage. In references (6)–(9) with the nonhuman nouns, only nouns referring to animals occur with plural bases. None of the nouns which occur with them refer to inanimate entities. On the other hand, there are many examples of ere in the literary texts of the second millennium BC, and I can safely say that in all these examples only human nouns occur and nonhuman nouns, either animate or inanimate, are never found (I will not provide examples in this regard in this paper). Thus, I conclude that ere is a verbal base that indicates the plurality of an animate (both human and animal) entity. In the second millennium BC, however, the use of ere was restricted to the human class. 1.2. sub While there are many examples of sub in the lexical texts, it rarely occurs in other types of texts. This is striking in comparison with the frequency in which ere is used. I could find only three examples of sub in documents of the third millennium BC, which I quote here as references (10), (11) and (21). The occurrence of sub in the texts of the later periods is shown in references (12)–(19). References (12)–(15) concern human nouns, while references (16)–(19) concern nonhuman animate nouns, both occurring with the plural base sub.

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（human, third millennium BC） (10) TCS 1, 173:9 (BM 29893) kaskal-še3 i3-su-be2-eš ‘They went to the expedition.’ (11) TCS 1, 5 ii 12 (BM 134635) gu2-e ma-an-su8-be2 ‘They came to me here.’ (human, second millennium BC) (12) Puzur-Šulgi to Šulgi about the advance of the enemy 29, 1 ms (Michalowski 1976; Black et al. 1998 (3.1.07)) ugu-gu10-še3 he2-em-su8-be2-eš ‘May they come to me.’ (13) Winter and Summer 271 (Black et al. 1998 (5.3.3)) udu-gin7 igi-za mu-un-su8-su8-be2-eš ‘(People) go in front of you like sheep.’ (14) ELA 335–336 (Cohen 1973; Vanstiphout 2003; Black et al. 1998 (1.8.2.3)) nam-lu2-ulu3 kiši6 ki-in-dar-ra-gin7 arattaki-aš ni2-ba mu-un- su8-be2-eš ‘People went to Aratta by themselves like ants in the crack.’ (15) Išme-Dagan W B 6–7 (Ludwig 1990; Black et al. 1998 (2.5.4.23)) d a-nun-na ub-šu-unkin-na […] den-lil2 dnin-lil2-ra su8-su8-HubI […] ‘Anuna-gods go to/serve Enlil and Ninlil in Ubshu-unkin.’ i3-su8-be2-en-za-na: Father and Son 104K (Sjöberg 1973a); mu-su8be2-eš: Falkenstein 1963:52, n. 154; ¶e2-en-da-su8-su8-be2-eš: YOS 11, 90:21–22 (Cavigneaux–Al-Rawi 1995); i3-su8-be2-en-d[e3-en]: TMH NF 3, 5:24 (How Grain Came to Sumer = Black et al. 1998 (1.7.6)); ¶e2-em-da-su8-su8su-su-be2-eš: UET 6/1, 103:42–43 (Rīm-Sîn D = Black et al. 1998 (2.6.9.4)); su8-su8-ub: Išme-Dagan X 2 (Sjöberg 1973b, No. 7 = Black et al. 1998 (2.5.4.24)); ¶u-mu-un-su8-ub: ELA 479 (Cohen 1973; Vanstiphout 2003; Black et al. 1998 (1.8.2.3)) (nonhuman, second millennium BC) (16) Lugalbanda in the mountain cave 311–312 (Hallo 1983; Black et al. 1998 (1.8.2.1) l. 308) am-si4 am-kur-ra u2-a su8-ba-bi maš2-si4 [maš2-u]d5 u2-a su8-[ba]-bi ‘Wild oxen and mountain oxen grazing in the grass, brown goats and nannygoats grazing in the grass.’ (17) LSUr 43 (Michalowski 1989; Black et al. 1998 (2.2.3)) e-el-lu šir3 gud su8-su8-ba eden-na nu-di-de3 ‘Lest the singing voices and songs for driving cattle are sung in the plain.’ (18) Iddin-Dagan A 138b (Reisman 1970:147–211; in Black et al. 1998 (2.5.3.1) l. 140A) i-lu šir3-bi gud su8-su8-ba eden-na [dug4]

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‘The singing voices and songs for driving cattle are sung in the plain.’ (19) Lipit-Eštar and the Plow 121 (Civil 1976:85) d li-pi-it-ištar gud su8-su8-ba-zu i-lu-zu dug3-ga-am3 ‘Lipit-Ištar, your song with which you drive oxen is sweet.’

An important point to note is that no example with an inanimate noun has been attested. I would like to conclude that sub exclusively indicates the plurality of animate nouns. Furthermore, the plural base sub is most commonly used for humans, although several examples of sub have been found with non-human animate nouns in the second millennium BC. It is clear that they are all used only in the context of grazing animals. I now summarize the relationships between plural bases and noun classes as follows. Both ere and sub indicate the plurality of animate entities, that is, humans or animals. In references from the third millennium BC, many examples of ere with animate (both human and nonhuman nouns) can be found, while no examples of sub with nonhuman animate nouns have been attested. In the later references, on the other hand, no examples of ere with nouns referring to animals can be found, whereas some examples of sub with nouns referring to animals occur only in specific contexts. This might indicate a particular usage of sub, as the meaning of its singular form does not seem to be similar to that of its plural form. References (20) and (21) are problematic, but are related to the discussion of this paper. (20) DP 53 xi 3–4 /things/ … ud gešgigir NINAki-ta lagaški-še3 erx(DU.DU)-ra-a ‘When (the men) went by(?) cart from NINA to Lagaš.’ (21) TSA 1 xii 4–5 /things/ gešgigir-re2 gir2-suki-ta sux(DU.DU)-ba-bi ba-DU ‘(The men) of the cart (?) coming from Girsu carried the things.’

Reference (20) has an ere example, and (21) has a sub. Both examples are from the Early Dynastic period and are very similar in both content and context. Although the plural nouns in these examples have frequently been interpreted as referring to inanimate entities, I would rather like to suggest that they might actually refer to humans. If I follow the former interpretation, they would be the only examples of the usage of ere and sub with inanimate nouns in any period. The scope of this paper does not permit me to consider other bases in detail here. Instead, I will provide data pertaining to some of the other bases in Table (22). This table shows the types of nouns that plu-

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plural bases mark. I observe that the distribution varies between the third and the second millennia BC. The distribution of noun classes that sug (to stand) and še (to be present)2 mark is also very interesting. In the second millennium BC, sug was used mostly with nouns referring to male animals; and the usage of še was common prior to the Ur III period (only a few examples of še are found in Ur III texts). I believe that the plural base was originally concerned with verbs expressing movement or presence.3 (22) Entities that major plural bases can indicate as being plural Third millennium BC hunon-human inaniman animate mate

Second millennium BC hunon-human inaniman animate mate

ere ‘to go’

++

++

sub ‘to go’

+

++

++

+ (in a specific) context)

++

++

+ (in a specific context)

++

sug ‘to stand’

++

la¶ ‘to carry’

++

++

++

++

++

++

durun ‘to sit, to be present’

++

++

+

++

++

+

še ‘to present’

++

++

be

+ ++ indicates “frequently found”

2. Argument types 2.1. Arguments related to plural bases A traditional explanation is that plural bases indicate the plurality of a subject or an object. However, I suggest that the semantic type of an argument is more important for the indication of plurality than its syntactic 2

I assume the phonetic value of SIG7 to be še in this paper. In this discussion, I do not consider the verbal base e ‘to say, marû’ as a plural base. 3

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status,4 That is, a plural base is used to denote the plurality of an argument which is inherent in verbal semantics, regardless of its syntactic status. Here, the concept of argument structure is very useful. From the perspective of argument structure, a sentence consists of a verb and one or more arguments, and the verb describes the relationship between arguments. To illustrate, the arguments whose plurality is indicated by plural bases may refer to the following entities: – – –

an entity of movement in the case of ere and sub (go); an entity of existence in the case of sug (stand), and durun and še (be present); an entity to be conveyed in the case of la¶ (carry).

We can say that these entities are the arguments that are semantically most closely related to the verbal bases. I assume that they are all internal arguments of the verb. In the following discussion, I will consider three kinds of arguments: Agent, Theme and Causer.5 Agent refers to the performer of an action. Theme refers to an object that, except for its position, is not transformed by the action, and in this sense, it is different from a patient argument. Then Causer occurs only in a causative construction. I will show that among these three types, only theme arguments are marked by plural bases. I will also compare the function of plural bases with that of the third person plural pronominal suffix. For this purpose, I will consider examples of plural bases with a third person plural suffix that is only used to represent a human class). 2.2. la¶ and the pronominal suffix The plural base la¶ means ‘to carry,’ or ‘to take.’6 Since it is a verb with a high degree of transitivity, it has both an agent and a theme in its argu4

Yoshikawa (1981) has already mentioned that Sumerian does not have the concept of number-concord between the nominal complex and the verbal complex. Civil 1999–2000:184 also notes that “Cross-linguistically, the plural in a verbal stem is not simply the result of an agreement with a plural noun phrase in the sentence, but can be an inherent plurality of the verbal stem itself.” 5 Various arguments have been discussed in linguistic literatures. They include Agent, Patient/Theme, Benefactive, Goal, Source and Causer. 6 Steinkeller 1979 mentioned that a plural base la¶ indicates the plurality of the object.

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ment structure. I would like to clarify that la¶ indicates the plurality, not of a syntactic object, but of a theme argument. This interpretation has an advantage in that it can indicate the plurality of something that is carried, regardless of its clause structure. Even if a plural entity appears as a syntactic object in a clause, unless it is a theme, a plural base can not indicate its plurality. Such examples can be seen in references (28) and (29). As for other bases, see reference (37), (40) and (41). I will now consider the cases, where the plural base and the pronominal suffix indicate the same entity. Each argument marked by the plural base is framed in the reference quoted below. In reference (23), there are a singular human agent and a plural human theme, and both the plural base la¶ and the third person plural suffix -eš indicate the plurality of a human theme. This type of references are all from the Akkadian period. (human agent sg.; human theme pl. (-eš)) (23) SRU 46:14–15 /persons/ PN1 dumu PN2 [š]eš PN3-ke4 [a-g]a-de3ki-ta [m]u-la¶5-¶e-eš2 ‘PN1, son of PN2, brother of PN3 took persons from Agade.’ mu-la¶5-¶e-eš2: ITT 1, 1066:5′; [mu]?-la¶5-¶e2-eš2: ITT 1, 1241rev.:5; ba-la¶5-¶e-eš2: ITT 1, 1120:3 (24) USP 6:1–5 14 munus ad-da mu-la¶5-¶e 3 gala dumu e2-ni-ke4 mu-la¶5-¶e ‘Adda took 14 women. Eni’s son took three incantation singers.’

References (25), (26) and (27) concern a singular human agent and a plural animal theme. In these sentences, la¶ undoubtedly indicates many animals. When a carried entity is singular, a plural base is not used. As mentioned above, this can be seen in references (28) and (29). The pronominal suffix -eš represents the plural agent. (human agent sg.; animal theme pl.) (25) NG 120a:6–7, 10–11 (Iraq 5, p. 168, BM 105393; similar example: NG 120b:27–28) /animals/ PN1 igi-ensi2-ka-še3 mu-la¶5 … PN2 u3 PN3 nibruki-še3 la¶e-dam ‘PN1 took animals to the governor. … PN2 and PN3 should take them to Nibru.’ (26) MVN 14, 176Vs.:5 (similar examples: BIN 5, 93:7; BIN 5, 32:10) /cows/ e2-gal-ta la-¶a ‘Cows taken from the palace.’ (27) BIN 5, 96:1–2 (similar examples: MVN 16, 733obv.:9 – rev.:1) 60 u8 bar-gal2 e2-gal-še3 la-¶a ‘60 unshorn ewes taken to the palace.’

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Cf. human agent pl. (-eš); inanimate theme sg. (28) ITT 2, 4418:1–5 1800 še [gur]-sag-[gal2] PN1 [u3 P]N2-ta [a-g]a-de3ki-še3 mu-tum2 (DU)-eš2 ‘They carried 1800 gursaggal of barley from PN1 and PN2 to Agade.’ (29) Adab A652:17 /cereals/ PN1 u3 PN2 mu-tum2(DU)-eš2 ‘PN1 and PN2 carried cereals.’

Next, I will consider examples where the plural base la¶ and the suffix -eš indicate the plurality of different entities. References (30) and (31) have an animal theme, and (32) and (33) have an inanimate theme, where the plural base la¶ indicates the plurality of a nonhuman theme, while -eš indicates that of a human agent. (human agent pl. (-eš); animal theme pl.) (30) TCS 1, 196:8–10 (TrD 67) /sheep (pl.)/ e2-dur5 lu2-ÚAR-ka-eš2 mu-la¶6(DU) la-¶e-eš2 ‘They took sheep to the lu2-ÚAR’s hut.’ (31) SAB Ad 14:12–14 /donkeys/ … e2 PN1 dumu PN2-ke4 ba-ab-la¶5-¶e-eš2 ‘PN2’s sons took the donkeys to PN 1’s house.’ (human agent pl. (-eš); inanimate theme pl.) (32) MAD 4, 126:1–5 3 k[uš(?) u8(?)] GN PN1 PN2 HxI-da mu-la¶5-¶e-eš2 ‘PN1 and PN2 carried three hides … to GN.’ (33) OSP I No. 21 iv 3–4 /things/ ugula du6-bar6ki-ke4 ba-la¶5(DU.DU)-eš2 ‘The foremen of Dubar carried things.’

It is important to note that in sources from the third millennium BC, a la¶ clause often lacks an agent noun and that only a theme noun is expressed. Therefore, of the verbal base la¶, I can safely state that the theme is its internal argument and the plurality of the internal argument is always indicated by la¶. It is worth noting that there are no Ur III administrative documents where both la¶ and -eš indicate the plurality of a single theme argument. The verbal base la¶ and the suffix -eš are used to indicate the plurality of different entities. In an intransitive sentence, generally, a plural base and -eš indicate the plurality of the same entity. Its plural entity is the argument closely involved with the verbal event such as movement or presence. In a transi-

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tive sentence, a plural base always indicates a theme, not an agent, while -eš can indicate the plurality of either a theme or an agent. 2.3. sug, durun, and the pronominal suffix References of sug are provided in (34)–(36). ( human theme pl. (-eš)) (34) STH I, 18:11, 10 (HSS 3) /men/ udu-nig2-gu7-a ba-sux(DU.DU)-ge-eš2 ‘The men stood at fattened sheep.’ (human agent sg.; inanimate theme pl. ) (35) Šulgi V 25 (Frayne 1997:156–157; Klein 1985; Black et al. 1998 (2.4.2.22)) d nanna unu2 kig2-nim bur-nun su8-ga-ni ‘The princely bowls he set in the morning dining hall for Nanna.’ (human agent pl. (-eš); inanimate theme pl. ) (36) Sumerian Flood Story 201 (Civil 1969; Black et al. 1998 (1.7.4) l. D 1) im-¶ul-im-¶ul im-si-si-ig du3-bi teš2-bi i3-su8-ge-eš ‘They cause imhul-storms and imsig-storms all together.’ Cf. human agent pl. (-eš); human theme sg. (37) Dumuzid & Geštinana 18 (Sladek 1974; Black et al. 1998 (1.4.1.1)) guruš-e mu-ni-in-gub-bu-de3-eš ‘They made the lad stand up.’

In the case of sug, intransitive sentences such as (34) are the most common, where sug and -eš concern the same entity. In (35), the agent is represented by a possessive suffix -ani ‘his,’ while sug indicates that the theme argument is plural. The sentence quoted in (36) has a plural agent represented by -eš and an inanimate plural theme marked by sug. In this case, sug indicates the plurality of ‘storms.’ The suffix -eš is a human plural entity. Although the sentences prior to line 201 in question are missing from the text, a plural human agent is possibly restored in this sentence. In my interpretation, the verbal expression in (36), namely, the verbal expression i3-su8-ge-eš (36) literally means ‘they caused to stand storms.’7 As exemplified in (37), if a theme argument is singular, sug is not used. It is never used to indicate the plurality of a causer. The following references contain usages of durun ‘to sit.’ ( human theme pl. (-eš)) (38) ITT 1, 1182rev.:4–5 7

A similar example is found in Uruk Lament E 89: giš-gud-si-dili kuš-guru12ur3 ba-su8-ge-[eš] (Green 1984; Black et al. 1998 (2.2.5)).

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/seven men/ e2-duru5-ensi2-kaki i3-durunx-ne2-eš2 ‘The seven men lived in Eduru-ensi.’ (human agent pl. (-eš); human theme pl. ) (39) Urnamma A 82 (Flückiger-Hawker 1999; Black et al. 1998 (2.4.1.1)) ur-dnamma gišbun gal-gal-la ba-ši-in-dur2-ru-ne-eš ‘Urnamma let them sit at the big banquet.’ Cf. human agent pl. (-eš); human theme sg. (40) Dumuzid & Geštinana 18 (Sladek 1974; Black et al. 1998 (1.4.1.1)) guruš-e mu-ni-in-gub-bu-de3-eš mu-ni-in-tuš-de3-eš ‘They made the lad stand up and they made him sit down.’ human agent pl. (-ne); human theme sg. (41) Urnamma A 136 (Flückiger-Hawker 1999; Black et al. 1998 (2.4.1.1)) ur-dnamma barag gal kur-ra-ke4 mu-ni-ib-tuš-u3-ne ‘They let Urnamma sit at the big throne of the netherworld.’

Reference (38) is an intransitive sentence, while transitive sentenses are seen in (40) and (41). In (39) and (41) for transitive cases, a third person plural pronominal suffix and similar noun phrases are found. In (39), where the human theme is plural, durun is used. On the other hand, in (41), where the human theme is singular, the form tuš (i. e., the singular form) occurs in place of durun. Reference (42) exemplifies that the third person plural pronominal suffix -ne represents a causer argument. We see that a pronominal suffix can indicate the plurality of a causer in a causative sentence. (42) IDN 352–353 (Sladek 1974; Black et al. 1998 (1.4.1)) sipad-de3 gi-gid2 gi-di-da igi-ni šu nu-mu-un-tag-ge-ne ‘They did not make the shepherd play a gigid or a flute before her.’

Plural bases are used in transitive, and even causative as well as intransitive sentences. In any sentences, we observe that the plural base denotes the plurality of a theme argument, and not the other arguments such as an agent, patient or causer. These theme arguments are the most important arguments for each plural base. I can say that they are internal argument of the verb. We can assume that the function of a plural base is to indicate the plurality of an internal argument. Thus, the plurality marked by plural bases is different from that marked by plural pronominal suffixes, because these suffixes can represent other types of arguments. Plural bases occur regularly in the sources from the third millennium BC, when its internal argument is plural.

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3. Conclusion I would like to put forth two main conclusions on the usage of Sumerian plural bases. The first is that verbs that have plural bases express movement or presence, and their plural bases are used to describe the existence—movement of a plural entity that the nouns are referring to. Although these entities may syntactically be subjects or objects, the primary function of a plural base is to indicate the plurality of an internal argument The second conclusion is that each plural base has a restriction on the classes of nouns it may take. The limitation varies with each plural base. It also varies with the historical period from which data have been obtained, as shown in Table (22).8 The use of plural bases seems to have been quite prevalent, at least in the third millennium BC. This probably points to an original characteristic of the Sumerian language. In the second millennium BC, the usage seems to have been narrowed and changed in several ways. References Black et al. 1998 Cavigneaux–Al-Rawi 1995 Civil 1969 Civil 1976

Civil 1999–2000 Cohen 1973 Falkenstein 1963 Flückiger-Hawker 1999

Black, J. A. et al. Electronic Text Corpus of Sumerian Literature (www-etcsl.orient.ox.ac.uk). Cavigneaux, A.; Al-Rawi, F. N. H. Textes magiques de Tell Haddad (Textes de Tell Haddad II). Troisième partie. ZA 85:169–220. Civil, M. The Sumerian Flood Story. Lambert, W. G.; Millard, A. R. (eds.). Atra-¶asis. The Babylonian Story of the Flood. Oxford. Civil, M. The Song of the Plowing Oxen. Eichler, B. L.; Heimerdinger, J. W.; Sjöberg, Å. W. (eds.). Kramer Anniversary Volume. Cuneiform Studies in Honor of Samuel Noah Kramer (AOAT 25). Neukirchen–Vluyn. Pp. 85–95. Civil, M. Reading Gilgameš. AuOr 17–18:179–189. Cohen, S. Enmerkar and the Lord of Aratta. PhD. Diss. Philadelphia. Falkenstein, A. Sumerische religiöse Texte. 4. Ein Lied auf Šulpa’e. ZA 55:11–67. Flückiger-Hawker, E. Urnamma of Ur in Sumerian Literary Tradition (OBO 166). Fribourg–Göttingen.

8 Other plural bases such as lugx ‘to be present’ and sun5 ‘to enter’ have the same characteristics, they express presence or movement and have restriction on the plurality with regard to animacy.

W. Mori, Notes on the Plural Bases in Sumerian Frayne 1997 Green 1984 Hallo 1983 Klein 1985 Ludwig 1990 Michalowski 1976 Michalowski 1989 Owen–Veenker 1987 Reisman 1970 Sallaberger 2005

Selz 1989 Sjöberg 1973a Sjöberg 1973b Sladek 1974 Steinkeller 1979 Vanstiphout 2003 Yoshikawa 1981

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Frayne, D. R. Ur III Period (2112–2004 BC) (RIME 3/2). Toronto–Buffalo–London. Green, M. W. The Uruk Lament. JAOS 104:253–279. Hallo, W. W. Lugalbanda Excavated. JAOS 103:165–180. Klein, J. Šulgi and Išmedagan: Runners in the Service of the Gods. Beer-Sheva II:7*–38*. Ludwig, M.-Ch. Untersuchungen zu den Hymnen des Išme-Dagan von Isin (SANTAG 2). Wiesbaden. Michalowski, P. The Royal Correspondence of Ur. PhD. Diss. Yale University. Michalowski, P. The Lamentation over the Destruction of Sumer and Ur (MC 1). Winona Lake. Owen, D.; Veenker, R. MeGum, the First Ur III Ensi of Ebla. Cagni, L. (ed.). Ebla 1975–1985. Dieci anni di studi linguistici e filologici. Napoli. Pp. 263–291. Reisman, D. Two Neo-Sumerian Royal Hymns. PhD. Diss. University of Pennsylvania. Sallaberger, W. ‘Bringen’ im Sumerischen. Lesung und Bedeutung von de6 (DU) und tum2 (DU). Rollinger, R. (Hrsg.). Von Sumer bis Homer. Festschrift für Manfred Schretter zum 60. Geburtstag am 25. Februar 2004 (AOAT 325). Münster. Selz, G. J. Altsumerische Verwaltungstexte aus Lagaš. 1. Die altsumerischen Wirtschaftsurkunden der Eremitage zu Leningrad (FAOS 15/1). Stuttgart. Sjöberg, Å. W. Der Vater und sein missratener Sohn. JCS 25:105–169. Sjöberg, Å. W. Miscellaneous Sumerian Hymns. ZA 63: 1–55. Sladek, W. R. Inanna’s Descent to the Netherworld. PhD. Diss. Johns Hopkins University. Steinkeller, P. Notes on Sumerian Plural Verbs. Or NS 48:54–67. Vanstiphout, H. Epics of Sumerian Kings: The Matter of Aratta (WAW 20). Atlanta. Yoshikawa, M. Plural Expressions in Sumerian Verbs. ASJ 3:111–124.

Sumerian: A Uralic Language (I)* Simo Parpola University of Helsinki

After the discovery of Sumerian as a previously unknown language in 1853, it was immediately recognized as distinct from Semitic, but its linguistic affiliation has remained elusive to the present day.1 The early researchers, starting with Edward Hincks and H. C. Rawlinson, associated it with the “Scythian” or “Turanian” (i. e., Ural-Altaic) phylum, and for a long time many Assyriologists shared this view. The founder of French Assyriology and the actual “discoverer” of Sumerian, Jules Oppert, compared the new language with Turkish, Finnish and Hungarian.2 His stu-

* An earlier version of this article was presented at the 53e Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale in Moscow on July 23, 2007. I gratefully acknowledge the financial support from the State Council for Culture and Society of the Academy of Finland, without which the research behind it would not have been possible. The following abbreviations are used for Uralic languages and their subgroups: C = Cheremis (Mari), E = Estonian, F = Finnish, Fc = Finnic, H = Hungarian, K = Karelian, Km = Kamas, L = Lappish, Lv = Livonian, M = Mordvin, Mt = Mator (Motor), O = Ostyak (Khanty), OU = Ob-Ugrian, P = Permian, S = Samoyed, Slk = Selkup, T = Tawgi (Nganasan), U = Votyak (Udmurt), V = Vogul (Mansi), Vc = Volgaic, Vt = Votian, Y = Yurak (Nenets), Yn = Yenissei Samoyed, Z = Ziryene (Komi), (P)FU = (Proto-)Finno-Ugric, PU = Proto-Uralic. For Assyriological abbreviations see http://cdliwiki.mpiwg-berlin.mpg.de/ doku.php/abbreviations_for_assyriology; for Fenno-Ugristic and Uralistic abbreviations see the bibliography. A = Altaic, Mo = Mongolian, Tc = Turkic, Tu = Turkish. Sumerian items are given in bold face in the CAD style. Sum. = Sumerian, PSum. = Proto-Sumerian, PSg = Pre-Sargonic, EG = Emegir, ES = Emesal. By ‘Proto-Sumerian’ I understand the form of Sumerian spoken before the Sumerian immigration to Mesopotamia. Editorial note: owing to limitations of space, the appendices to this paper will be published separately as Part II in the next issue of B&B. 1 See Weissbach 1898; Christian 1932 and 1961; Jones 1969; Civil in Zakar 1971:215–216; Römer 1999:43; Edzard 2003:2–3; http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/ Sumerian_language. 2 Oppert 1854, 1859, and 1873. Oppert was the first to use the term Sumerian for the new language and likewise the first to explicitly associate it with the Ural-

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dent François Lenormant, who was familiar with comparative Uralistics and Altaistics and in 1875 provided the first grammatical sketch of Sumerian, found it most closely related to Finno-Ugric, while also containing features otherwise attested only in Turkish and other Altaic languages.3 However, in 1875–1878 and 1883, respectively, two prominent FinnoUgrists, August Ahlqvist and Otto Donner, reviewed Lenormant’s work and concluded that in their opinion Sumerian was definitely not a Ural-Altaic language.4 In retrospect, considering the many defects of Lenormant’s presentation of Sumerian grammar and lexicon, such a categorical statement was certainly premature. But it had far-reaching consequences. The possibility that Sumerian could be related to Uralic and/or Altaic languages was henceforward regarded as excluded in Assyriological and Uralistic circles, so that no Assyriologist, Sumerologist or Uralist in his or her right mind has considered it worthwhile to return to the matter since the nineteenth century.5 Typically, when a Hungarian scholar in 1971 tried to reopen the discussion of “Sumerian–Ural-Altaic affinities” in the journal Current Anthropology, a few linguists welcomed the suggestion, but the feedback from Assyriologists and Finno-Ugrists was scornfully negative.6 Attempts to connect Sumerian with other languages have not been successful, however, so that 155 years after its discovery, Sumerian still remains totally isolated linguistically. At the same time, Hungarian (and recently also Turkish and Finnish) non-Assyriologists have kept pointing out more grammatical and lexical similarities between Sumerian and Ural-Altaic and proposed hundreds of new Ural-Altaic etymologies for Sumerian words.7 These more or less amateurish studies unfortunately contain a great number of clearly abortive etymologies and thus have failed to convince the experts. The problem is that random lexical simiAltaic phylum. According to Muss-Arnolt 1894:526, his views were “still endorsed by most of the leading Assyriologists” in 1894. 3 Lenormant 1874, 1875a, 1876 (cf. App. 1). 4 Ahlqvist 1878 (dated at the end as “Dec. 1875, Febr. 1878”); Donner 1883. Ahlqvist’s position was already foreshadowed in the postscript to Lenormant 1876. Donner was Professor of Sanskrit and comparative Indo-European studies at the University of Helsinki, but at the same time also a pioneer and authority in comparative Finno-Ugristics (Donner 1874–1888). 5 An exception is Tallqvist 1947 (cf. ibid. 11). 6 Zakar 1971. 7 Bobula 1951; Gostony 1975; Kaya 1997; Chong 2003; Hakola–Assadian 2003; Hamori 2005 (cf. App. 2).

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larities are no proof of linguistic affinity.8 The only accepted way of demonstrating genetic relatedness between languages is to identify a sufficient number of cognates in basic vocabulary, to establish interlocking sound correspondences that are reflected in the language’s grammatical systems as well.9 This is a task requiring much more than a simple comparison of look-alike words, since phonological and semantic changes can render cognate words practically unrecognizable even in genetically related languages. As an Assyriologist and a native speaker of a Uralic language, I have had a somewhat schizophrenic attitude towards the similarities between Sumerian and Ural-Altaic. They have continued intriguing me, but at the same time I have been reluctant to attach much importance to them. Given the rate at which languages change and the enormous temporal and geographical distance separating Sumerian from the present-day Uralic languages, how could these languages be related, and even if they were, how could their affinity be proven? The fruitless attempts to establish the linguistic affiliation of Sumerian demonstrate that virtually any language resembles Sumerian to some extent. Thus haphazard similarities prove nothing. My attitude changed in November 2004, when I noticed that many Finnish words with good Uralic etymologies could be related to Sumerian through regular sound changes. This observation suggested that the similarities between Sumerian and Uralic were not fortuitous but due to genetic relatedness, and I decided to put the matter to a test. The thing to establish was how many examples of the two sound correspondences that had caught my attention (F h- ~ Sum. š-; F v- ~ Sum. mu- or u-) could actually be found in a systematic search. I reasoned that if the correspondences were due to mere chance and the languages were not genetically related, it would be very difficult to find further examples; conversely, if the languages were related, many more examples were bound to be found. Using as a shortcut the most recent Finnish etymological dictionary (SSA), I discovered, in two months’ time, 75 likely cases of h- ~ š-, 56 cases of v- ~ (m)u-, and 28 cases of v- ~ ø-. That was much more than originally expected, and in the course of the search I kept making further discoveries, so that by February 3, 2005, I had tentatively identified about 400 Sumerian words with likely Uralic etymologies. These findings convinced me that the matter was indeed worth serious study, and in 8 9

Cf. Oswalt in Zakar 1971:220. Cf. Campbell 1997; Vajda 2008.

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November 2005, I submitted to the Academy of Finland a research proposal entitled “The Linguistic Relationship between Sumerian and Ural-Altaic,” the aim of which was to go through the entire vocabulary of Sumerian (including morphological elements) from the etymological point of view, identify and collect all the items that can be associated with Uralian or Altaic etyma, ascertain that the comparisons are phonologically and semantically sound, convert the material into a database, and make it available to Sumerologists, Finno-Ugrists and other specialists. In collecting the material, I proposed to primarily use modern etymological dictionaries and studies, but […] also take into consideration whatever Sumerian–Ural-Altaic etymologies have been previously suggested by other scholars. In addition, I will systematically note all possible Indo-European etymologies suggested for all the words included. Since comparative Finno-Ugric, Altaic and Indo-European studies are beyond my competence, I intend to consult specialists in these studies in all questions of details that cannot be settled using the standard reference works. The database will include all attested phonetic spellings and meanings of the Sumerian words included and all forms and meanings of the corresponding Uralic, Altaic and Indo-European items in all the languages in which they are attested. These data will be used to determine the relevance of the comparisons, which will be assessed separately for form and meaning on a scale from 4 to 1. The highest score indicates perfect agreement in form and meaning; a low score correspondingly poor match and doubtful relevance. The number of languages in which an item is attested is not taken into consideration in assessing its relevance, but will be used in determining the position of Sumerian within the hypothetical proto-language family.

The application was successful, and I spent the academic year 2006– 2007 systematically comparing Sumerian with Ural-Altaic and IndoEuropean along the lines just described. What follows is a concise report of the results obtained during this time period. A full report must be reserved for a later occasion, the matter being too vast and complicated to be properly treated in article form. To date, having scrutinized about 80% of Sumerian vocabulary, I have identified about 1,700 words and 70 grammatical and lexical morphemes likely to have an Uralic and/or Altaic etymology, allowing for regular sound changes and semantic shifts. The analysis of the material is still in progress, and it would be pointless to assess the feasibility of the individual comparisons here. But after two years of assiduous checking, I

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feel confident that at least 60 per cent of the comparisons are correct and will stand the test of time. Although similarity alone does not prove anything, and although chance similarity cannot be excluded in all the cases, the great number of potential cognates indisputably is a strong indication of genetic relatedness.10 Words with likely Altaic etymology constitute only a small minority (about 7%) of the material, and although more Altaic parallels will doubtless be found in the future, the general picture is unlikely to change significantly. Sumerian cannot thus be closely related to Altaic languages. However, a more distant genetic relationship seems not only possible but certain, since most of the Altaic parallels are basic words and grammatical morphemes, and they are also found in Uralic languages.11 10 In the study of language relatedness, quality of comparisons is more important than quantity. But even quantity has great significance. The more typological, grammatical and lexical parallels and points of converge between languages can be found, the better and more reliably can their relatedness be established; and conversely, the less such evidence is available, the greater is the probability that the similarities derive from mere chance, language contact, or a very distant relationship at best (cf. the Nostratic, Ural-Altaic, IE-Uralic, IE-Semitic, and other similar hypotheses, which may all be basically correct but remain unproven for lack of sufficient evidence). It is no coincidence that 18th-century attempts to connect Finnish with Greek and Hebrew (see Harviainen 2005) did not produce more than 77 lexical comparisons, and that attempts to connect Sumerian with Bantu, Basque, Bornu/Hausa, Chinese, Dravidian, Indo-European, Kartvelian, Polynesian, Tibeto-Burman, etc., have not resulted in more than 337 comparisons at best. 11 E. g., Sum. -ak (genitive) ~ Tc -a, -ka, -ja (dative-lative); -da ‘with, at’ ~ Tc -ta, -da (locative-ablative); dab5 ~ Tc tap ‘seize’; eger ~ Tu geri ‘back’; dug4, di ~ Tu de‘to say, tell’; gál ~ Tu ol- ‘to be, become’; geš ~ Tu ağaç ‘tree, wood’; gub ~ Tc kop‘to get up’; gùd ‘nest’ ~ Tc kota ‘house’; gur4 ~ Tu gür, Mo kür ‘thick’; ígira, igiru ~ Tc ujγur ‘storch’; kaš4 ~ Tu koş- ‘to run’; kur ~ Tc kyr ‘mountain’; kur9 ~ Tc kir-, k3r- ‘to enter’; -m ~ Tc -n (instrumental); peš ~ Tu piç ‘offshoot’; -ra (dative) ~ Tc -ra (directive); sá ~ Tc täg-, däj-, dej- ‘to reach’; sug ‘marsh, lake’ ~ Tu su ‘water, stream’; -šè ~ Tc (Chuvash) -čen (terminative); -ta ~ Tu -tan, -dan (ablative); tag ~ Tc täg-, däj- ‘to hit’; temen ‘foundation (platform)’ ~ Tc töŋ ‘hill; ground,’ tej ‘foundation’; til ~ Tu diri-, Tc tir- ‘to live’; tuku5 ~ Tu doku- ‘to weave’; ubur ~ Tu öbür, Mo ebür ‘breast’; ud ~ Tc öd ‘time’; u(n) ~ Tc on, un, von, vun ‘ten’; za ~ Tk sen ‘you’; zé-eb ~ Tu sev ‘good.’ All these words are also found in Uralic. A few Sumerian words have an obvious cognate in Altaic but not in Uralic, e. g. a-na ~ Tu ne, Tc nä, nō, nā, inä ‘what?’ (Räsänen 1957:47); a-na-gin7 ~ Tu ne-ke, neçin ‘why?’; bi ‘it, this, that’ ~ Tu bu ‘this’; dingir ~ Tc täŋri, teŋir, tigir, Mo teŋri, teŋgeri ‘god’ (Räsänen 1969:474a), cf. O teŋgertonG3̑r, ťiŋg3rťonχ3̑r ‘dragonfly,’ H vízi-tünder ‘water fairy, elf ’; eš5 ~ Tu üç ‘three,’ cf. F usea ‘many’; ki(g) ~ Tc kok

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The overwhelming majority of the proposed cognates are thus Uralic, mostly Finno-Ugric. More than one thousand of them are attested in at least one major branch of Uralic beside Finnic and thus are certainly very old, dating to at least 3000 B. C.12 The rest have a more limited distribution and are largely found only in Finnic and Lappish. Although there is no Uralic evidence that such words already existed in Proto-Finno-Ugric or Proto-Uralic, there is no reason why they should be excluded from consideration, particularly if the words in question are basic words attested in all Finnic languages and have no satisfactory etymology.13 The words with proposed Uralic etymology run the whole gamut of Sumerian vocabulary and include: –

–

hundreds of common verbs of all possible types, such as verbs of being, bodily processes, sensory perception, emotion, making, communication and movement; over a hundred adjectives; cardinal numbers; pronouns of all types; adverbs, interjections, and conjunctions;

‘earth’ (Räsänen 1969:276a); ku ~ Tc ko- ‘to place, lay’ (ibid. 273a); ukum ‘dust’ ~ Tc kum ‘sand,’ Mo χum ‘sand, dust’ (ibid. 229b). The relationship of Sumerian to the Altaic languages will not be further considered in this article for lack of space. For the same reason, the relationship of Indo-European to Uralic and Sumerian will be left out of consideration here 12 Cf. App. 13–16. The chronology of the split-up of the Uralic family is debated, but it is generally agreed that it occurred more or less concurrently with the dispersion of the Indo-European language family, i. e. between 4000–2000 B. C. (see, e. g., Korhonen 1984). Since the eighties there has been a growing consensus that Proto-Finnic was probably spoken in the Baltic area already as early as 3000 B. C. (see Häkkinen 1996:90–92, and Koivulehto 1984). Based on physical anthropological evidence, Markku Niskanen locates the original homeland of the Finns in the Dnieper-Don region of the South Russian plain and connects their arrival in the Baltic with the spread of the Battle-Axe (Corded Ware) culture to the eastern Baltic and southwest Finland around 3200 cal. B. C. (Niskanen 2002:145, 147–148). 13 A case in point is F kylvä- ‘to sow, strew, scatter,’ Ingrian külvä-, K kylve-, Ludian külvä-, külvi-, Votian čülvä-, E külva-, Livonian kill- and L gilve-, kalve- id., which has been considered a loan from Proto-Germanic *kleuƀan- (> Old Norse kljúfa, Swedish klyva ‘to split’; SSA 1 463). As pointed out by Kylstra et al. (1996: 136), “die Etymologie ist sowohl semantisch als auch lautlich problematisch.” A more satisfactory etymology is Sum. kul ‘to sow, scatter’ (App. 11), cf. kul = sapā¶u ‘to scatter, disperse,’ BRM 4 33 ii 9; kul = šapāku ‘to pour out (seeds),’ ibid. 15. The specific meaning ‘to sow’ is ascertained by the fact that the word is written with the logogram for ‘seed’ (numun). The Uralic etymology of F kylvä- is strengthened by M kalavto- ‘to scatter, dissolve’ (L 23 577a), which has escaped the attention of the editors of SSA and UEW.

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hundreds of basic nouns including words for body parts, kinship terms, natural phenomena, animals, plants, weapons, tools and implements, and various technical terms reflecting the cultural level of the neo- and chalcolithic periods in the fields of agriculture, food production, animal husbandry, weaving, metallurgy, building technology, etc.14

It must be emphasized that the majority of the words concerned are basic words belonging to the core vocabulary of Sumerian, and show a very good phonological and semantic match between the Sumerian and Uralic items compared (3 + 3 or higher on the above-mentioned four-graded scale of relevance). K. Rédei’s Uralisches etymologisches Wörterbuch contains a total of 1802 lexical entries, while the total of assuredly Uralic or Finno-Ugric basic words in Finnish and Hungarian is generally put at about 750 and 660 only, respectively. Against this background, proposing more than 1,000 Uralic etymologies for Sumerian would appear to be “too good to be true.” But the matter has to be put in perspective. It has been pointed out that the entries of UEW constitute only a fraction of the original Uralic vocabulary, much of which probably remains hidden in the unetymologized vocabulary of the individual Uralic languages.15 Sumerian predates all attested forms of Uralic by thousands of years, and it must therefore have preserved much more of the original vocabulary than the contemporary Uralic languages, all of which have been heavily influenced by Indo-European and/or Turkic languages.16

14

Cf. App. 11–14. Kulonen 1996:13–14. 16 It has been claimed that languages lose “approximately 80% of the[ir] vocabulary […] in a millennium. Two related languages would then share 65% of their vocabulary after a thousand years had elapsed. In four millennia, the number of shared words would be very small, certainly far fewer than 57 [in the 100word Swadesh List]” (W. P. Lehmann in Zakar 1971:219). W. H. Jacobsen Jr. (ibid. 217) counts with a 86.4% retention rate. Note, however, that “of the old Mongolian vocabulary, only 1% has become entirely obsolete and nearly 95% is still in current use with its original meaning. This indicates much higher survival rates than those calculated by the glottochronologists” (Clauson 1973:494). According to Clauson (ibid.), “languages do not all change at a uniform rate … After a careful study of all the literature on glottochronology at my disposal, I conclude that it could never become an exact science for the following reasons: Unless the whole vocabulary of a nuclear language is known (which in fact never occurs) it is impossible to determine how much of it has survived in the vocabularies of daughter languages, since some words may survive only in one language, and words are not counted as survivals unless they survive in all.” 15

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The present-day Germanic languages, which separated some 2,000– 3,000 years ago, still share a core vocabulary of thousands of words, whereas less closely related IE languages likewise contain a large number of words derived from proto-IE, albeit often in heavily altered form, despite the fact that they split up more than 5,500 years ago. The large number of common words related through regular sound changes is precisely the reason why these languages can be identified as members of the same family. In the case of Sumerian and Uralic, the task of demonstrating their relatedness is much tougher, since Sumerian predates even the oldest attested IE language (Hittite) by more than a millennium and no written sources in any Uralic language are available before A. D. 900. Thus comparing Sumerian with Uralic is like comparing ancient Hittite with modern French, Welsh, Swedish or Czech. The phonological changes that have taken place over the millennia have mostly altered the PIE words and morphemes surviving in these modern languages beyond recognition. It is only through careful comparative study encompassing all IE languages that phonological rules accounting for the changes can be formulated and the gap between seemingly unrelated words closed. With enough comparative material, the same can also be done with Sumerian and Uralic. Admittedly, that is a difficult task, but it is not an impossible one. I will illustrate the point by focusing on a sound change that has escaped the attention of scholars but is crucial to demonstrating the relatedness of Sumerian and Uralic. Language Sumerian

Finnish

Ingrian Karelian Vepsian Votian Estonian Lappish

Word

Meaning

Reference

skull, cranium; top (of head); brain soft cranium, brain; marrow brain pan brain; mind, understanding

SSA 1 62, 64

oimo, oimu, oimi aivot, ajut aivo(t) aiv(od), aiv(ud) aju(d) aju, ai(d)

reason, understanding brains brain(s); marrow brain(s) id. id.

SSA 2 261a SSA 1 62, 64 SSA 1 62 ibid. SSA 1 64 ibid.

oim, uim oaive, oaivi, åiwe, ŭoijie, ojv, vueīv

reason, understanding SSA 2 261a head; reason, understanding; SKES II 423a top; mountain top

ugu, a-gù ugu-dig ugu-díli aivo, aivu, aimu, a(i)ju

Civil 1973; Westenholz– Sigrist 2006

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vuoiŋâš, vuoìvašn, vuevešn, vujvešn uj

brain

SKES I 12a

brain; marrow

L 23 2440a

Cheremis

βuj βuj-tor3̑k, βuj-δor3̑k

head; upper end, top part brain

L 11 14; 32 57

Vogul Ostyak

āwt, ēwt, āwa, äw ēχ, ōχ, åχi, äχ uχ, uγ, oχ, oγ, ow

head mountain head

UEW I 542 L 2 2995 L 10 21a

Hungarian

uχ-wēt3m agy

L 10 274a UEW I 5

Yurak

ŋäeββa ŋäeββaì

brain brain, marrow; (OH) skull, cranium cranium, skull, (top of) head, top brain

Tawgi

abuði, eba, ewa ebē, ae úbo ŋaiwuo, ŋoiwuo

head brain end, top head

UEW I 336 ibid. UEW I 542 UEW I 336

Selkup Taigi Mator

ūk3, ūG, ūg, ūγ3 aiba ajbaj

end, head, top head first

L 30 199 UEW I 336 SW 17

Mordvin

Yenissei

L 13 22 ibid.

Table 1. Sumerian and Uralic words for ‘skull, cranium, top, top of head, brain’

Years ago, Miguel Civil in his article “From Enki’s headache to phonology” showed that the Sumerian word ugu, ‘skull, cranium; top’ (= Akkadian mu¶¶u, eli, etc.) had a variant a-gù in third-millennium texts; and from its association with the divine name dab-ú and Akkadian abbuttu, ‘upper part of the head, scalp,’ he concluded that the middle consonant of the word probably originally was a labio-velar stop, traces of which could also be found in other Sumerian words.17 Recently, Joan Westenholz and Marcel Sigrist have shown that beside ‘cranium, head, top of the head, top,’ ugu also means ‘brain, marrow.’18 The word ugu/agu has a perfect counterpart in the Uralic words for ‘cranium, head, top (of the head), brain,’ which not only share its semantic field but also display the same alternation in the first vowel and the middle consonant (see Table 1).19 Remarkably, Sumerian ugu(4) ‘to give 17

Civil 1973:61. Westenholz–Sigrist 2006. 19 The relevant words are presented as separate entries in etymological dictionaries (see UEW I 5 ajŋe ‘Schläfe,’ 337 ojwa ‘Kopf, Haupt,’ 542 ukɜ (okɜ) ‘Kopf,’ 18

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birth,’ a homophone of ugu ‘brain,’ likewise has a Uralic counterpart in F aiko-, aivo- ‘to intend, give birth,’ homophonous with F aivo, ‘brain’ (Table 2).20 The k/v variation in aiko-/aivo- correlates with that in the Sumerian and Uralic words for ‘head, top, brain’, and supports the reconstruction of a labio-velar stop in the middle. Language Sumerian

Word ugu4, ugu ama-ugu(4) aiko-, (dial.) aivo-, aihoaigo-, aigu-, aiku-

Finnish Karelian

aikoja, aikoi, aika

Meaning to give birth; to beget

Reference Ea I 137; CAD genetic mother, progenitrix A1 340; EPSD SSA 1 56 s. v. to intend, plan aihe, 57 s. vv. aika2, aikoa to give birth; to achieve birth-giving woman, mother to measure, deduce

Livonian

aìg3̑

Lappish

ajk (in divine names) mother

Selkup

ko-

to give birth

SSA 1 57 s. v. aika2 L 30 1750

Table 2. Uralic counterparts of Sumerian ugu4 ‘to give birth’ and ama-ugu4 ‘mother’

Several other words discussed by Civil also display a g/b alternation, for example gurux/buru4 ‘crow,’ and gur(u)21/bu-ùr, ba-ru ‘shield.’ These two words must have been quasi-homophonous in Sumerian, since they could be written with the same logogram (ŠIR.BUR.MUŠEN = buru4mušen ‘crow’).21 The Uralic words for ‘crow’ (in some languages ‘raven, hawk’)22 resemble the Sumerian word and display a similar variation in the initial stop. Language Sumerian Finnish Karelian

Word gurux, buru4, bur4 varis (variks-), vares varis, variś, variš varoi

Meaning crow, raven crow id. id. (deminutive)

Reference Civil 1973 SSA 3 410, SKES 5 1654b

and SSA 1 62 aivo ‘Gehirn; Verstand, Vernunf,’ 64 aju ‘Gehirn; Vernunft, Verstand,’ SSA 2 261 oimo ‘Sinn,’ oiva ‘hervorragend’). 20 aivo- is a dialectal by-form of aiko-. It cannot be explained as an instance of the Finnish consonant gradation, which yields aijon for the 1st p. sg. prs. of aikobut aivon for the 1st p. sg. prs. of aivo- (see SSA 1 57b). SSA connects aiko- with aika ‘time,’ which hardly fits the semantics of the verb. 21 See Civil 2003:51–52. 22 The evidence points to two originally separate words, *kwar3k and *kwar3ks, the former probably being the basic word for ‘crow’ and the latter a derivation from it, denoting a crowlike bird of prey.

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Estonian Livonian Lappish

vares varīkš vuorčes, vuorač, vuorrâzâs, wuoratjis, wuorakjis, wuortja

id. id. id.

SKES 5 1655a

Mordvin

varaka vaŕćej, varśej, varksij, varkśij

id. id.

L 23 2541 L 23 2552

Cheremis Votyak

βaraš, βarakš variš, varįš

(sparrow) hawk hawk, gull

L 11 8b; 32 27 L 21 140

Ziryene

varįš, variš

L 7 319a

urin-jēkwä, ūrin-ēkoa

hawk, bird of prey crow

koår3̑s, kār3̑s kār3̑s, kǡr3̑s, kār3̑š war3̑s warγaj

griffin large eagle, griffin hawk crow

UEW II 647 L 10 429a L 10 239a L 2 2904

Hungarian Yurak

varjú βarŋe, βarŋī, βarŋäe, βarŋŋe

id. id.

UEW I 559 L 13 48b

Selkup

kü3rus, kw7rŭs ku3rä, ku3̑rä, k{arĕ

hawk crow

L 30 2362 L 30 2248

Kamas Koibal Mator

bāri, βāri, båri bare berĕ

id. crow, raven crow

L 8 8b Paasonen 1917:290 SW 170

Vogul Ostyak

UEW I 559

Table 3. Sumerian and Uralic words for ‘crow, raven, hawk’

As in the case of ugu ~ F aivo, comparative evidence thus again supports reconstructing a labio-velar stop (/kw/) in the PSum and PU forms of this word.23 Strikingly, as in the case of ugu4 ~ F aiko-/aivo-, the homophony between Sumerian buru4 ‘crow’ and bu-ùr/ba-ru ‘shield’ is paralleled by a similar homophony between F varis ‘crow’ and varus,24 ‘equipment, armour’ (Table 4). Language Sumerian

23

Word gur(u)21, kuškuru14, kuš.e bu-ùr, ÍB.ba-ru, kuš buru4mušen, eùr kuš

Meaning shield

Reference Civil 1973; 2003:52, EPSD

Note also that onomatopoetic verbs describing the croaking of crows and ravens have an initial labio-velar in Mordvin and Votyak: M kvarnu-, karno-, varno‘to croak’ (L 23 626, 996, 2541); U k{argetȋ- ‘to croak’ (L 21 141). 24 This word is largely limited to Finnic, but its O and H cognates (overlooked in SSA and UEW) confirm its PFU origin.

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Languages of the Ancient Near East

Finnish

varus varustus varus, varuz

equipment, armour id., fortification, fort equipment, protection

Ludian Estonian

varustavarustavarustus

to equip id. equipment

Lappish Ostyak

varustiùr

Hungarian

vár város

to equip wall of an ancient fort fortification, fort city

Karelian

SSA 3 414a s. v. varustaa, SKES 5 1650 s. v. vara

L 2 2820 Nyirkos 1977 ibid.

Table 4. Sumerian and Uralic words for ‘shield, protection’

The regularity of the correspondence between Sumerian /g/ or /k/ and Uralic /v/ or /w/ in the above examples amounts to a phonological rule and helps establish further connections between Sumerian and Uralic words displaying a similar correlation, for example Sumerian gíd(-da) ‘to pull’ and Uralic *wetä- ‘to pull’, and Sumerian kur ‘mountain’ and Uralic *wōr ‘mountain’ (see Tables 5–6). Comparative evidence once again unequivocally supports positing an original labio-velar stop in these words. Language Sumerian

Word gíd(-da)

Finnish

vetä-

Karelian

pidetvete-

Vepsian

pitet-, pitketveda-

Votian Estonian

vettäveda-

to pull, transport, lead to pull, draw, transport, bring

Livonian Lappish

viedveđati-

id. to transport

Mordvin

ved’ a-, vet’ a-

to lead, bring

piďe-

Meaning to pull (taut), draw; to drag, haul, transport; to lengthen to pull, draw, transport to lengthen to pull, transport, bring, lead to lengthen to pull, transport; (-s) to lengthen to lengthen

Reference Antagal A 159, VIII 141, A VI/1:200f.; EPSD SSA 3 431; SKES 1719 SSA 2 377; SKES 580 SSA 3 431; SKES 1719 SSA 2 377; SKES 580 SSA 3 431; SKES 1719 SSA 2 377; SKES 580 SSA 3 431; SKES 1719

L 23 2633

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193

Cheremis

βiδe-, βüδe-

to lead, guide, bring

L 11 15b; 32 63

Vogul

kut, k3̑t, γ3̑t p7lt

length length

Wichman 1953:410 UEW I 377

Ostyak Hungarian

p3t, päʌ vezet-

long, tall, high to lead, bring

L 10 777a; 2 1770 UEW I 569

Yurak Selkup

βe̮ttākütt3-

to lengthen to draw

L 13 69b L 30 1974

Table 5. Sumerian and Uralic words for ‘to pull, draw, lengthen’

An original labio-velar can on various grounds be posited for many other Sumerian-Uralic word-pairs, and a study of the relevant evidence indicates that this archiphoneme, like the IE labio-velar, had a great variety of reflexes and, depending on the phonological context, could also be realized as d, m, ¶, ø in Sumerian and as d, t, s, h in Uralic (see App. 15).25 Language Sumerian Finnish

kur vuori

Meaning mountain id.

Ingrian Karelian Estonian

vieru vēru, vērus vaara, voara, vuara voor

precipice hillside hill, mountain ridge

veer

hillside

Lappish

vierra, vierrâ, vīrra

ridge, hillside

Mordvin

kårrå gora

ridge mountain

Cheremis

veŕak, ṕeŕak, pärak kur3̑k, kuruk

id. mountain

25

Word

Reference CAD Š1 49b SSA 3 475, SKES 1821 SSA 3 435a SSA 3 435a, 434a SKES 5 1581b Kokla et al. 1993:646b ibid. 630b, SSA 3 435a SKES 6 1727a UEW II 677 L 23 415 < Russ. горá L 23 26b (alu veŕak) L 11 52b, 32:296

Note that many of the Sumerian (and Uralic) words with posited labio-velar have IE counterparts likewise containing an original labio-velar, e. g. gen, mèn ‘to go’ ~ IE g{em- (Pokorny 1959:463–465); gíd(-da) ‘to draw, lengthen’ ~ IE ghed(ibid. 437–438), {ed(h)- (ibid. 1115–1116); gíd-i ‘to plead, appeal’ ~ IE g{hedh(ibid. 488); gír ‘to burn’ ~ IE g{er-, g̑{er3- (ibid. 499); gir5(-gir5), gígri, diri ‘to go around’ ~ IE k{el-1, k{el3-, k{ek{lo- (ibid. 639–640); gu4 ‘ox’ ~ IE g{ou- (ibid. 482– 483); gur4, búr ‘round, fat’ ~ IE g{er-2, g{er3- (ibid. 476–477); kur ‘mountain’ ~ IE g{er-3, g{or- (ibid. 477–478); kúš-ù ‘to tire, be exhausted’ ~ IE k̑{es-, k̑us- (ibid. 631– 632); meli, gèli ‘uvula, pharynx’ ~ IE gel-2, g{el (ibid. 365); peš ‘(off)shoot; twig, birch’ ~ IE g{es- (ibid. 480); ugur ‘sword, dagger, knife’ ~ IE g{eru- (ibid. 479).

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Votyak

vȋr, vįr

hill, highland

L 21 321a

Ziryene

gureź, guredź gor, ge̮r, ge̮ra

mountain mountain

ibid. 63b L 7 59a, 53a < Russ.

kįr

hill, mountain, precipice

ibid. 109a

keres, kere̮s

mountain, hill, highland

ibid. 92b

Ural Mountains mountain ridge wooded hill, ridge

UEW II 677 s. v. kurɜ UEW II 833 s. v. arɜ2 L 10 71–72

Selkup

kvark-vož wor, wŏr ur, ɯr, urʿ, worʿ, wirʿ, wur kūra

wooded mountain ridge

L 30 2292

Kamas

bōr

mountain, ridge

L 8 10b

Vogul Ostyak

Table 6. Sumerian and Uralic words for ‘mountain’. Cf. PIE g{er-3, g{or- ‘mountain’ (Pokorny 1959:477–478),Tc kyr, kir ‘mountain, ridge, hillside’, M kira ‘ridge’ (Räsänen 1969:265)

Other surprising sound correspondences between Sumerian and Uralic can likewise be explained as different reflexes of Proto-Uralic phonemes. PU /*j/ regularly disappears in Sumerian, PU /*w/ either disappears or is replaced by m, b, u or l,26 and PU /*ń/ may, like /*j/, disappear totally or be replaced by d or t (see App. 16). I have not yet finished charting all phonological correspondences between Sumerian and Uralic, but those already studied are certainly regular. For example, in word-initial position Sum. š regularly corresponds to PU /š/ or /č/ and Finnish /h/, Sum. s to PU /s/ or /ś/ and Finnish /s/, and Sum. z to PU /ć/ or /s/ and Finnish /s/.27 Reading

Meaning

Uralic etymology

a, aj, ja10, e4

water

F jää, jej ‘ice,’ L jiegŋâ, M ej, ev, eS, jäj, äj, C ij, H jég id., O j3ŋk ‘water,’ jeŋk, joŋk ‘ice’

a, aj, aja, e4

father

F äijä, äj ‘old man, father’, L aggja ‘grandfather,’ U aj, ajį, aj3 ‘father,’ Z aj, V jeγ, jaj, O j3γ id.

26

PU /*w/ is frequently lost in Uralic languages as well, and m/v alternation is common in Uralic. /l/ has an allophone [w] in many Uralic languages and alternates with /v/ in Ziryene. 27 The PU affricates /č/ and /ć/ seem to have been largely lost in classical Sumerian, the former merging with /š/ and the latter largely (but not totally) with /s/. PU /ś/ must have largely merged with /s/, as in Finnic. It may be noted that PU /č-/ (and occasionally also /ć-/, /ś-/, /š-/ and /s-/) is often changed in Sumerian to /¶/ before PU /a/, /o/ and /u/, thus anticipating the Finnic change č-/š- → h-.

S. Parpola, Sumerian: A Uralic Language a, aj

oh! woe!

duru5

wet, fresh, soft

ea eš10

195

F ai ‘oh! woe!’, M C U Z V O aj id.

F tuore ‘fresh,’ E toores ‘raw, fresh, moist,’ L njuorâs ‘soft,’ U ńur ‘moist,’ Z ńure̮ś ‘wet,’ H nyers ‘fresh, raw’ to cry, wail, groan F joika-, joiat-, L juoigâ- ‘to sing loudly, bawl, groan’ water; tears

F vesi ‘water; tears,’ M ved’, C w3t, Z viz ‘stream’, V üt’, wit’ ‘water,’ O jis ‘crying,’ H víz ‘water’

Table 7. Phonetic and semantic values of the Sumerian cuneiform sign A

The word a-gù ‘brain’ discussed above was written syllabically with two cuneiform signs, A and KA, both of which have several phonetic values and meanings in Sumerian, based on homophony and idea association. All these phonetic values and meanings have plausible etymologies in Uralic, and the homophonic and semantic associations between the individual meanings work in Uralic, too; compare the homophony between a, aj ‘water’ and aja, aj ‘father’ in Sumerian, and jää, jäj and äijä, äj in Uralic (Table 7). And this applies not only to the sign A and KA (for the latter see App. 17, No. 15) but the Sumerian syllabary in its entirety. Consider, for example, the sign AN (App. 17, No. 13), whose basic meaning, ‘heaven, highest god,’ was in Old Sumerian homophonous with the third person singular of the verb ‘to be,’ am6. The Uralic word for ‘heaven’ and ‘highest god’ was *joma, which likewise was virtually homophonous with the third person singular of the verb ‘to be,’ *oma.28 These two words would have become totally homophonous in Sumerian after the loss of the initial /j/. The loss of the initial /j/ also provided the homophony between Sumerian a(j) ‘water’ and aj(a) ‘father’ already discussed. Overall, the evidence for the Uralic affinity of Sumerian is overwhelming. In addition to the great number of cognate words and the regularity of the sound correspondences already discussed, Sumerian displays the basic distinctive features of Uralic (see App. 3), and its grammatical system is clearly Uralic, with similar pronouns, personal suffixes of the verb, and case endings (see App. 6–9). In addition, over 30 Uralic derivational morphemes can be identified in Sumerian nouns and verbs (see App. 10). The few non-Uralic features of Sumerian, such as the prefix chains of the verb and the placement of the adjective attribute after the noun, can be 28

UEW II 717 s. v. oma; Häkkinen 2002:110; F on, V (South) om, U vań (L 21 307), H van ‘is,’ Z em, im ‘is,’ pl. Z eme̮ś ‘are’ (L 7 339, cf. Sum. ì-me-eš, -me-eš ‘are’).

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explained as internal developments of Sumerian after its separation from the other Uralic languages.29 The Sumerians thus came to Mesopotamia from the north, where the Uralic language family is located, and by studying the lexical evidence and the grammatical features which Sumerian shares with individual Uralic languages, one can make additional inferences about their origins. Sumerian has affinities within all the major branches of the Uralic family, but particularly with the Finnic and Ob-Ugrian ones, with which it shares a number of significant phonological, morphological and lexical isoglosses (see App. 4–5). The latter include, among other things, a common word for ‘open sea, ocean’ (Sum. ab or a-ab-ba, F aava, aapa, aappa, L appa, appe, āve),30 and common words for cereals, sowing and harvesting, domestic animals, wheeled vehicles, and the harness of draught animals (see App. 11–12). A number of these words also have counterparts in Indo-European, particularly Germanic languages. These data taken together suggest that the Sumerians originated in the Pontic-Caspian region between the mouth of the Volga and the Black Sea, north of the Caucasus Mountains, where they had been living a sedentary life in contact with Indo-European tribes. I would not exclude the possibility that their homeland is to be identified with the Maikop culture of the North Caucasus, which flourished between 3700 and 2900 B. C. and had contacts with the Uruk culture.31 Placing the Sumerian homeland in this area would help explain the non-Uralic features of Sumerian, for the Kartvelian lan29

The prefix chain of the Sumerian verb kept increasing in complexity with the passage of time, reaching its maximum complexity in Late Sumerian. The early system, evidenced by the texts from Fara, involved only modal prefixes, the prefixes mu-, ba- and bí-, and inflected forms of personal pronouns of the type an-da-gál, an-ne-ág. In archaic administrative texts, the adjective attribute frequently precedes the noun, cf. GALa SANGAa ‘high priest’ (passim); 2 GI6 BUa ‘two black snakes’ (W 8405), 648 GI6 U8 ‘648 black ewes’ (W 9578l), 80 GI6 UDUNITA ‘80 black rams’ (ibid.), 930 GI6 UDUNITA U8 ‘930 black rams and ewes’ (ibid.), 60 GI6 UD5a ‘60 black goats’ (W 9579s), 120 U4 AMAR GÀR ‘120 white calves’ (W 6375a), […] 3 U4 GU4 ‘3+ white oxen’ (W 9656dr), 1 TUR ŠIRb ‘one small egg (?)’ (W 6756c), 141 TUR MU ‘141 small …’ (W 9168+); however, the reverse order also occurs, cf. 111 U8 GI6 ‘111 black ewes’ (W 9578c), 4 SUÚUR GALa ‘4 big carps’ (W 9578m); see Englund 1994:125 (s. v. GAL), 128 (s. v. GI6) and 163 (s. vv. TUR and U4). This indicates that the adjective attribute originally preceded the main word but was already being increasingly placed after it in the Uruk IV period, almost certainly as a result of substratum influence. 30 Cf. O ɒba ‘broadest place in a fish trap’ (L 10 66a). 31 See Anthony 2007:287–299; Trifonov 2004; Rassamakin 2002.

S. Parpola, Sumerian: A Uralic Language

197

guages spoken just south of it are ergative and have a system of verbal prefixes resembling the Sumerian one.32 The Sumerian words for chariot, wheel, and the harness of draught animals that it shares with Uralic show that its separation from Uralic took place after the invention of wheeled vehicles, which were known in the Maikop culture since about 3500 B. C. About 3500 B. C., the Indo-European Yamnaya culture that had emerged between the Danube and the Don began to expand dynamically to the east, reaching the Caucasian foreland by about 3300 B. C.33 This expansion is likely to have triggered the Sumerian migration to Mesopotamia. It would have proceeded through the Caucasus and the Diyala Valley, and since wheeled transport was available, could easily have been completed before the end of the Late Uruk period (ca. 3100 B. C.). The arrival of the Sumerians in Mesopotamia would thus approximately coincide with the destruction of the Eanna temple precinct at the end of the Uruk IVa period. The lexical items shared by Sumerian and Uralic, especially those relating to the culture and technology of the chalcolithic age, thus provide a medium through which it becomes possible not only to solve the problem of the origin of the Sumerians and date their arrival in Mesopotamia, but also to penetrate into the prehistory of the Finno-Ugric peoples and check the various theories and reconstructions built on archaeology and comparative linguistics with the help of very ancient linguistic data. The lexical items that Sumerian shares with Indo-European and Altaic are likewise of utmost relevance to the linguistic relationship between IndoEuropean and Uralic on the one hand, and Uralic and Altaic on the other, as well as to the question of the original “homelands” of these language families. Of course, very much work still remains to be done before the relevant evidence has been fully analyzed and validated.

32

See Rebrik 2004 and Tseretheli 1913–1916. It is not excluded that Kartvelian is distantly related to Sumerian, for in addition to similarities in the verbal system, it also has other grammatical and lexical isoglosses with Sumerian. It should be noted, however, that while ergativity is not a general feature of the Uralic languages, the Ob-Ugrian languages, Ostyak and Votyak, are split-ergative languages (see Honti in Sinor 1988:165 and 191–192; Kulonen 1989). Havas (2006; 2008) traces the Ostyak system to the Ostyak protolanguage. Ergative structures have been traced even in Finnish (Itkonen, T. 1974; 1975), and it has been suggested that proto-Uralic was an ergative language (Katz 1980). It has also been pointed out that functionally the Hungarian verbal prefix meg- closely resembles Sumerian mu- (Gostony 1975, No. 859). Thus Sumerian may well have inherited its ergativity and verbal prefix system from Proto-Uralic. 33 Carpelan–Parpola 2001:60–61.

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Languages of the Ancient Near East

The results of this study challenge many preconceived views and theories and cannot be expected to be easily swallowed. However, they are based on a large set of previously overlooked, interlocking facts, which support one another and form a system that makes sense. I believe the evidence speaks for itself. Certainly it is no longer possible to claim, as Kramer did in 1963, that In structure, […] Sumerian resembles not a little such agglutinative languages as Turkish, Hungarian, and some of the Caucasian languages. In vocabulary, grammar, and syntax, however, Sumerian still stands alone and seems to be unrelated to any other language, living or dead.34

This unfortunate statement, which has been repeated countless times and has had an enormous influence on scholarly attitudes, is based on nothing but insufficient knowledge of Uralic languages and comparative Uralistics. It can be excused considering Kramer’s great contributions to Sumerology. But it can no longer serve as an excuse for disregarding the Uralic affinities of Sumerian or relegating them to the realm of chance, fantasy and day-dreaming. I am currently in the process of turning the data collected and analyzed by me into an Internet database in collaboration with the Department of General Linguistics of the University of Helsinki. Needless to say, this work, as indeed any further research on the subject, would greatly profit from advice and constructive criticism received from fellow Assyriologists, Sumerologists, Finno-Ugrists and Uralists. Abbreviations of Sumerian lexical texts A Ai. An Antagal Diri Ea Emesal Erimhuš Hh

Izi 34

The Series Aa A = nâqu (MSL 14) The Series Ana ittišu (MSL 1) The Series An = Anum (Litke 1998) The Series An-ta-gál = šaqû (MSL 17) The Series Diri = (w)atru (MSL 15) The Series Ea A = nâqu (MSL 14) Emesal-Vocabulary (MSL 4) The Series Erim-¶uš = anantu (MSL 17) The Series ÚAR-ra = ¶ubullu (Tablets I–IV = MSL 5; Tablets V–VII = MSL 6; Tablets VIII–XII = MSL 7; Tablet XIII = MSL 8/1; Tablets XIV = MSL 8/2; Tablet XV = MSL 9; Tablets XVI–XVII = MSL 10; Tablet XVIII = MSL 8/2; Tablet XIX = MSL 10) The Series Izi = išātu (MSL 13)

Kramer 1963:306 (my emphasis).

S. Parpola, Sumerian: A Uralic Language Kagal Lu Nabnitu Nigga NBGT OBGT Proto-Aa Proto-Ea Sa Sa Voc. Sb

199

The Series Ká-gal = abullu (MSL 13) The Series Lú = ša (MSL 12) The Series SIG7.ALAN = nabnītu (MSL 16) Níg-ga = makkūru (MSL 13) Neo-Babylonian Grammatical Texts (MSL 4) Old Babylonian Grammatical Texts (MSL 4) Proto-Aa (MSL 14) Proto-Ea (MSL 2 and 14) Syllabary A (MSL 3) Sa Vocabulary (MSL 3) Sb Vocabulary (MSL 3)

Abbreviations CIFU EUM

FUF H JSFOu L

NSS SKES SSA SUST SW UEW UrLang

Congressus Internationalis Fenno-ugristarum Encyclopaedia of Uralic Mythologies, ed. Anna-Leena Siikala, Vladimir Napolskih, Mihály Hoppál. Budapest, 2003– Finnisch-Ugrische Forschungen Hilfsmittel für das Studium der finnisch-ugrischen Sprachen. Helsinki, 1894– Journal de la Société Finno-ougrienne/Suomalais-ugrilaisen Seuran Aikakauskirja. Helsinki, 1886– Lexica Societatis Fenno-ugricae. Helsinki, 1913– : L 2 = Paasonen–Donner 1926 (Ostyak); L 6 = Lagercrantz 1939 (Lappish); L 7 = Wichmann–Uotila 1942 (Ziryene); L 8 = Donner–Joki 1944 (Kamas); L 10 = Karjalainen–Toivonen 1948 (Ostyak); L 11 = Paasonen–Siro 1948 (East Cheremis); L 12 = Toivonen et al. 1955–1981 (SKES); L 13 = Lehtisalo 1956 (Yurak); L 15 = Itkonen, T. 1958 (Kolta Lappish); L 17 = Räsänen 1969 (Turkish); L 21 = Wichmann–Korhonen 1987 (Votyak); L 23 = Paasonen–Kahla 1990– 1996 (Mordvin); L 30 = Alatalo 2004 (Selkup); L 32 = Moisio–Saarinen 2008 (Cheremis) Sadeniemi 1957–1961 Toivonen et al. 1955–1981 Itkonen–Kulonen 1992–2000 Suomalais-ugrilaisen Seuran Toimituksia/Mémoires de la Société Finno-Ougrienne. Helsinki, 1890– Janhunen 1977 Rédei 1988–1991 Sinor 1988

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Cavigneaux et al. 1985 Chong 2003 Christian 1932 Christian 1961

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Kulemzin, V. M. et al. Khanty Mythology (EUM 2). Budapest. Kulonen, U.-M. The Passive in Ob-Ugrian (SUST 203). Helsinki. Kulonen, U.-M. Johdatus unkarin kielen historiaan. Helsinki. Kulonen, U.-M. Sanojen alkuperä ja sen selittäminen. Helsinki. Kulonen, U.-M. Itämansin kielioppia ja tekstejä (H 15). Helsinki. Kylstra, A. D. et al. Lexikon der älteren germanischen Lehnwörter in den ostseefinnischen Sprachen. Bd. I–II. Amsterdam–Atlanta. Lagercrantz, E. Lappischer Wortschatz. I–II (L 6). Helsinki. Landsberger, B. Die Serie ana ittišu (MSL 1). Rome. Landsberger, B. Die Serie Ur-e-a = nâqu (MSL 2). Rome. Landsberger, B. The Series ÚAR-ra = ¶ubullu. Tablets I– IV (MSL 5). Rome. Landsberger, B. The Series ÚAR-ra = ¶ubullu. Tablets V– VII (MSL 6). Rome. Landsberger, B. The Series ÚAR-ra = ¶ubullu. Tablets VIII–XII (MSL 7). Rome. Landsberger, B. et al. Das Syllabar A (R. T. Hallock); Das Vokabular Sa (B. Landsberger; R. T. Hallock); Das Vokabular Sb (H. S. Schuster; B. Landsberger). Berichtigungen und Nachträge zu MSL II. Indices zu MSL II (MSL 3) Rome. Landsberger, B. et al. Part I. Emesal-Vocabulary by B. Landsberger with contributions by A. Falkenstein and Th. Jacobsen. Part II. Old Babylonian Grammatical Texts. Part III. Neo-Babylonian Grammatical Texts by R. T. Hallock and B. Landsberger (MSL 4). Rome. Landsberger, B. et al. The Fauna of Ancient Mesopotamia. Second Part: ÚAR-ra = ¶ubullu. Tablets XIV and XVIII (MSL 8/2). Rome. Landsberger, B. et al. The Series ÚAR-ra = ¶ubullu. Tablets XVI, XVII, XIX and Related Texts (MSL 10). Rome. Landsberger, B.; Civil, M. The Series ÚAR-ra = ¶ubullu. Tablet XV and Related Texts, With Additions and Corrections to MSL II, III, V, and VII (MSL 9). Rome. Landsberger, B.; Kilmer, A. D. The Fauna of Ancient Mesopotamia. First Part: ÚAR-ra = ¶ubullu. Tablet XIII (MSL 8/1). Rome. Landsberger, B.; Kilmer, A. D. The Fauna of Ancient Mesopotamia. First Part: ÚAR-ra = ¶ubullu. Tablets XIV and XVIII (MSL 8/2). Rome.

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Maddieson 2008

Mallory 1989 Michalowski 1980 Moisio–Saarinen 2008 Moora 1958

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Nyirkos 1977 Oppert 1854 Oppert 1859

Oppert 1873 Oppert 1875 Paasonen 1893 Paasonen 1917

Languages of the Ancient Near East Lehtisalo, T. Über die primären ururalischen Ableitungssuffixe (SUST 72). Helsinki. Lehtisalo, T. Juraksamojedisches Wörterbuch (L 13). Helsinki. Lenormant, Fr. La magie chez les Chaldéens et les origines Accadiennes. Paris. Lenormant, Fr. La langue primitive de la Chaldée et les idiomes touraniens. Paris. Lenormant, Fr. Les principes de comparaison de l’accadien et des langues touraniennes. Réponse à une critique. Revue de philologie et d’ethnographie 2:78–97 (with a postscript on pp. 98–99). Litke, R. L. A Reconstruction of the Assyro-Babylonian GodLists, AN : dA-nu-um and AN : Anu šá amēli (TBC 3). New Haven. Maddieson, J. Front Rounded Vowels. Haspelmath, M. et al. (eds.). The World Atlas of Language Structures Online (http://wals.info/feature/description/11). Mallory, J. P. In Search of the Indo-Europeans: Language, Archaeology and Myth. London. Michalowski, P. Sumerian as an Ergative Language. JCS 32:86–103. Moisio, A.; Saarinen, S. Tscheremissisches Wörterbuch (L 32). Helsinki. Moora, H. Zur ethnischen Geschichte der ostseefinnischen Stämme (Suomen muinaismuistoyhdistyksen aikakauskirja 59/3). Helsinki. Muss-Arnolt, W. The Works of Jules Oppert (with Portrait). BA 2:523–556. Niskanen, M. The Origin of the Baltic-Finns from the Physical Anthropological Point of View. The Mankind Quarterly 43/2:121–153. Nyirkos, I. Unkarilais-suomalainen sanakirja/Magyar-finn szótár. Helsinki. Oppert, J. Letter to F. Spiegel, dated Babylon 16 January 1854. ZDMG 8:598–599. Oppert, J. Expédition scientifique en Mésopotamie exécutée par ordre du gouvernement de 1851 à 1854 par Mm. Fulgence Fresnel, Félix Thomas et Jules Oppert. Tome II. Déchiffrement des inscriptions cunéiformes. Paris. Oppert, J. Extrait de la notice de M. Oppert sur les textes sumériens. JA 7/1:112–288. Oppert, J. Études sumériennes. Premier article: Sumérien ou accadien? JA 7/5:267–318. Paasonen, H. Mordvinische Lautlehre. Helsingfors. Paasonen, H. Beiträge zur finnisch-ugrisch-samojedischen Lautgeschichte. Budapest.

S. Parpola, Sumerian: A Uralic Language Paasonen 1918 Paasonen 1923

Paasonen 1953 Paasonen–Donner 1926 Paasonen–Siro 1948 Paasonen–Kahla 1990–1996 Parpola 1975 Parpola 2005

Poebel 1931 Pokorny 1959 Pihel–Pikamäe 1999 Rapola 1966 Rassamakin 2002

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Paasonen, H. Die finnisch-ugrischen s-Laute (SUST 41). Helsinki. Paasonen, H. Beiträge zur Aufhellung der Frage nach der Urheimat der finnisch-ugrischen Völker (Turun (Suomalaisen) Yliopiston julkaisuja B 1/5). Helsinki. Paasonen, H. Mordwinische Chrestomathie mit Glossar und grammatikalischem Abriss. Zweite Auflage (H 4). Helsinki. Paasonen, H.; Donner, K. H. Paasonens Ostjakisches Wörterbuch nach den Dialekten an der Konda und am Jugan (L 2). Helsinki. Paasonen, H.; Siro, P. H. Paasonens Ost-tscheremissisches Wörterbuch (L 11). Helsinki. Paasonen, H.; Kahla, M. H. Paasonens Mordwinisches Wörterbuch (L 23). Helsinki. Parpola, S. Transliteration of Sumerian: Problems and Prospects. StOr 46:239–257. Parpola, S. The Linguistic Relationship between Sumerian and Ural-Altaic. Research plan submitted to the Research Council for Culture and Society of the Academy of Finland on November 15, 2005. Poebel, A. The Sumerian Prefix e- and i- in the Time of the Earlier Princes of Lagaš (AS 2). Chicago. Pokorny, J. Indogermanisches etymologisches Wörterbuch. Bern. Pihel, K.; Pikamäe, A. Suomalais-virolainen sanakirja/Soomeeesti sõnaraamat. Tallinn. Rapola, M. Suomen kielen äännehistorian luennot. Helsinki. Rassamakin, Yu. Aspects of Pontic Steppe Development (4550–3000 BC) in the Light of the New Cultural-chronological Model. Boyle, K.; Renfew, C.; Levine, M. (eds.). Ancient Interactions: East and West in Eurasia. Cambridge. Pp. 49–74. Räsänen, M. Uralaltaische Wortforschungen (StOr 18/6). Helsinki. Räsänen, M. Materialien zur Morphologie der türkischen Sprachen (StOr 21). Helsinki. Räsänen, M. Versuch eines etymologischen Wörterbuchs der Türksprachen (L 17). Helsinki. Rebrik, V. Zur Frage der kartwelo-sumerischen Sprachenfamilie. JAC 19:101–123. Rédei, K. Uralisches etymologisches Wörterbuch. I–III. Wiesbaden. Reiner, E.; Civil, M. The Series ÚAR-ra = ¶ubullu. Tablets XX–XXIV (MSL 11). Rome. Renfew, C. Archaeology and Language: The Puzzle of IndoEuropean Origins. Harmondsworth.

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Smith 2007 Steinitz 1966–1991 Tallqvist 1947 Tseretheli 1913–1916

Toivonen et al. 1955–1981 Trifonov 2004

Turunen 1949 Vajda 2008 Van Windekens 1962 Van Windekens 1963 Virtaranta 1958 Virtaranta–Koponen 1968–2005 Weissbach 1898 Westenholz–Sigrist 2006

Languages of the Ancient Near East Römer, W. H. Ph. Die Sumerologie. Einführung in die Forschung und Bibliographie in Auswahl (AOAT 262). Münster. Sadeniemi, M. Nykysuomen sanakirja. I–VI. Porvoo. Sammallahti, P. Über die Laut- und Morphemstruktur der uralischen Grundsprache. FUF 43:22–66. Sammallahti, P. Historical Phonology of the Uralic Languages. In Sinor 1988:478–571. Sammallahti, P. The Saami Languages. Kárásjohka. Schretter, M. Emesal-Studien. Sprach- und literaturgeschichtliche Untersuchungen zur sogenannten Frauensprache des Sumerischen (Innsbrucker Beiträge zur Kulturwissenschaft. Sonderheft 69). Innsbruck. Sinor, D. (ed.). The Uralic Languages. Description, History and Foreign Influences (HdO 8/1). Leiden–New York–København–Köln. Smith, E. J. M. [-ATR] Harmony and the Vowel Inventory of Sumerian. JCS 59:19–38. Steinitz, W. Dialektologisches und etymologisches Wörterbuch der ostjakischen Sprache. Berlin. Tallqvist, K. Sumer. kur.gi = fi. kurki ‘Kranich’? StOr 13/10:3–11. Tseretheli, M. Sumerian and Georgian. A Study of Comparative Philology. JRAS 1913:783–821; 1914:1–36; 1915:255–288; 1916:1–58. Toivonen, Y. H. et al. Suomen kielen etymologinen sanakirja. I–VII (L 12). Helsinki. Trifonov, V. Die Majkop-Kultur und die ersten Wagen in der südrussischen Steppe. Fausa, M.; Burmeister, S. (eds.). Rad und Wagen. Mainz a. R. Pp. 167–176. Turunen, A. Kalevalan sanakirja. Helsinki. Vajda, E. A Siberian Link with Na-Dene Languages (http://www.uaf.edu/anlc/docs/vajda-2008.pdf ). Van Windekens, A. J. Éléments ouraliens en tokharien. Orbis 11/2:600–612. Van Windekens, A. J. Nouvelle note sur les éléments ouraliens en tokharien. Orbis 12/1:250–252. Virtaranta, P. Pääpainollisen tavun jälkeisen soinnillisen dentaalispirantin edustus suomen murteissa (SKST 252). Helsinki. Virtaranta, P.; Koponen, R. Karjalan kielen sanakirja. I– VI (L 16). Helsinki. Weissbach, F. H. Die sumerische Frage. Leipzig. Westenholz, J.; Sigrist, M. The Brain, the Marrow and the Seat of Cognition in Mesopotamian Tradition. JMC 7:1–10.

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Proleptic Pronouns in Middle Hittite* Andrej V. Sideltsev Institute of Linguistics, Russian Academy of Sciences, Moscow

1. DATA. GRAMMATICALIZED USE It was noticed already by McCone (1979:470–471, 475, 482) that nominal constituents can be dislocated into the post final position (that is, after the verb) for presumably emphatic reasons.1 In this case they are doubled by proleptic2 pronouns.3 The object of the paper is to collect all MS data of this type, assess their usage and determine (1) the degree of foreign language influence and (2) the precise diachronic process by which the structure came into existence. 1.1. There are two main types: one and two nominal constituent right dislocations. 1.1.1. The only dislocated nominal constituent is a direct Object, doubled by the object clitic: TYPE 1.1. natta=war=an wemiyanun DTelipinun ‘I have not found him, Telipinu.’ -an here is a common gender singular pronoun coreferent

* A preliminary version of the paper was read at RAI 53, July 2007. I express sincere gratitude to Dr. Campbell, Dr. Goedegebuure, Dr. Hazenbos, Dr. Kassian, Prof. Dr. Soysal, Dr. Yakubovich, Prof. Dr. Wilhelm who all kindly commented in some way on the paper both at RAI 53 and after it. I am particularly grateful to Dr. Rizza who made available to me two of his papers before their publication. Very special thanks go to Dr. Giorgieri, who kindly corrected my Hurrian. Naturally, all the infelicities are the author’s only. The paper itself is a drastic revision of several sections in my article “Middle Hittite Inverted Word Order,” published in Anatolian Languages (Canberra, 2002). 1 See Sideltsev 2002 passim for later literature. 2 Proleptic pronouns are the pronouns that duplicate nouns used in the same clause. 3 This grammaticalized function was noted by McCone, ibid., and later by Garrett (1990:252–256). See now also Rizza’s paper read at Arbeitstagung der Indogermanishen Gesellschaft, September 2007.

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with Telipinu. The clause corresponds to the unmarked type natta=wa(r) Telipinun wemiyanun ‘I have not found Telipinu.’4

D

EXAMPLES 1 (CTH 324.1.A) KUB 17, 10Vs. i 28′–29′ … UL=war=an wemiyanun D Telipinun nạkkin DINGIRLAM ‘… I have not found him, Telipinu, the noble god.’ (CTH 404.1.I.A) KBo 39, 8Rs. iii 17–18 … [(par)] ạ̄=wạr=an=kan [(allapa¶)te]n apel UD-aš ¶urtiyaš … ‘You have spat it out, (namely) (the tongue) of the curses of that day.’5 (CTH 404.1.I.A) KBo 39, 8Rs. iii 11–13 [(karap)du (pitta)]lliš GÌR-aš idālun EME-an # [(nu=war=an iškiša)]z karapdu # ZU9=ya=war=at [(karapdu idālu)] KA×U-iš! idālu EME-an ‘May the swift foot lift up the evil tongue, may it (i. e. the swift foot) lift it (i. e. the evil tongue) with (its) back (i. e. carry it on its back), and may (its) tooth lift them, (namely) evil mouth (and) the (evil) tongue.’6 (CTH 443.1) KBo 15, 10+Vs. ii 26–28 ḌUTU-uš DUTU-waš DINGIR.LÚMEŠ DỊM DIM-naš DINGIR.LÚMEŠ kūš tu¶šumen # [n]=at ar¶a tu¶šan ēštu ŠA fZi idālu uttar alwanzatar # [n]=at EGIR-pa ANA f Zi=pat w[a]¶ān ēštu … ‘Sundeity (and) Sundeity’s male gods, Stormgod (and) Stormgod’s male gods, we have cut these. Let them, (namely) Zi’s evil word (and) sorcery, be separated (likewise). Let them be turned back to the aforementioned Zi.’7 (CTH 638.2.A) KUB 9, 3+Rs. iv 8–10 āšta=ma=kan 12 GU4ÚI.A 3 ME ḪI.A UDUÚI.A # n=an ¶uišuanda[(n)] šarranzi 5 GU4 1 ME 50 UDUḪI.A # n=an=za LÚ.MEŠSANGA URUKā[(š¶a)] danzi … ‘There remain 12 oxen (and) 300 sheep. They divide them8 up, (into the groups, namely) 5 oxen (and) 150 sheep alive. The priests of Kašha take them for themselves.’ tris (CTH 725.J) KUB 48, 2:5′–8′ [(mān=)]at tapari[(yaweni=ma)] [(laba)]rnaš LU[(GAL-waš É-ir)] # [(iyawen)]i=ma=aš ÚU[(R.SAGMEŠ # n=aš=ši)] [(piweni SIG5-and)]u[(š NA4ḪI.A)]9 ‘When they! determined

4 Both types are actually attested in one text in (CTH 404.1.I.A) KBo 39, 8Rs. iii 17–18 … [(par)]ạ̄=wạr=an=kan [(allapa¶)te]n apel UD-aš ¶urtiyaš … (Exx. 1) vs. Vs. ii 31 idālawēš=wa(r)=kan ¶ūrtāuš parā allapahten. 5 Now I follow Miller’s elegant analysis in Miller 2004:85, 120. 6 Now I follow Miller’s analysis in Miller 2004:82, 83, 119. 7 This interpretation (with proleptic pronoun) is to be preferred to that of Kassian 2000:41. 8 Sg. collective in the text. 9 Now the context is also attested in late MS Or. 90/1147Vs. ii 3′–5′ mān=[(at … L)]UGAL-waš [ … n)]=aš=ši p[(iweni …, published by Süel–Soysal 2007:7 (see ibid. 3 for the dating).

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it, (namely) the house of Labarna, the king, (they spoke thus:) “We will make them, (namely) mountains, we will give them, (namely) favourable stones to him.” ’10 Hattian word order is identical, only the verb of the first clause (e=š=ka=¶er=pi) has overt marker of pl. object (š), the verb of the second clause (ni=pu=pe) contains an object marker only if we assume a metathesis, the verb of the third clause (ai=ø=(y)ay=e/ya) has a zero object marker: anna e=š=ka=her=pi11 tabarn[a=n katte] le=waael # ni=pu=pe12 ziš # pala ai=ø=(y)a=e/ya13 i=mal¶ip.14 (CTH 789) KBo 32, 15Rs. iii 15 ug=an pē[šk]imi pariššān ‘I will give it, (namely) pariššan.’ The restoration follows Hoffner 21998:80, n. 60; Wilhelm 1997:285; HEG P 444 and CHD P 155 contra Neu 1996:297, 361 (pí-ẹ[-¶u-t]e-mi). There is no Hurrian correspondence for pariššan:15 Rs. iv 15 iža=ž ar=ol=aw=nna ‘I give it.’ Neu (1996:362) supposes that pariššan may have been used by the Hittite translator to ensure the referential unequivocality for the pronoun—‘a group of captives.’ However, Hurrian context does not have any equivocality— the pronoun refers to kirenzi in the next clause: Rs. iv 15–18 ārd(i)=iffu=šša(< ž+n(n)a) kirenzi=ø ar=i=a=mma # futki=ž Fazanigar=v(e)=až Sazalla=ž kirenzi=ø ar=i=a=mma ‘My town does not give it, (namely) release. Zazalla, the son of Pazzanikarri does not give release’ following Wilhelm 1997:285–286. Very interesting is the Hittite rendering of the second clause, as it keeps the pronoun, but omits the Object ‘release,’ thus transforming the pronoun from a proleptic one into a single indication of the Object in the clause (mirroring the reverse in the first clause!): (16) ammel=ma=a[n UR]U-aš UL pāi. Third Hittite clause follows Hurrian. So, the easiest way to understand the clauses is to suppose that pariššan somehow stood in the Hittite translation for parā tarnumar, normal rendering

10

The translation follows Schuster 1974:67, 85. 1 pl. subject=pl. object= according to Soysal 2004:189. The only difficulty is that the syntactic object is actually sg.! 12 At face value the form does not contain an object marker. It possesses it only if we assume that there was a metathesis *i=n=pu=e=pi < *ai=n=pu=e=pi with ai regular marker of 1 pl. subject and an sg. object. See Soysal 2004:199. There is some reason to assume a metathesis as n is not attested in the first position in the clitic chain. 13 Only 1 pl. is marked as ai. 3 sg. object is ø following Goedegebuure (in the present volume). 14 Attested in NS (CTH 725.A) KUB 2, 2+Vs. ii 45–47; late MS Or. 90/401Vs.: 7–9; Or. 90/1067Vs. i 2′–3′, published by Süel–Soysal 2007:6–7 (see ibid. 3 for the dating). 15 Otherwise Hurrian is identical including the pronoun. 11

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Languages of the Ancient Near East of kirenzi.16 So I follow Hoffner’s translation (21998:75: ‘I will keep on sending the pariššan’) which seems to imply this. (CTH 789) KBo 32, 19Vs. ii 2 ar¶a=ma=an tarn[a mPurran=pa]t? piyạn[(t)an …] ‘Release him, (namely) captive Purra.’ Identical ibid. Rs. iii 27′–28′. Hurrian may be identical including the pronoun:17 Vs. i 3 nakk=i=(m)ma Purra=n āzziri=ø. EGIR-pa

(CTH 789) KBo 32, 15Vs. ii 19′–20′ … UL=ma=an iyaweni parā tạrnumar … ‘We do not do it, (namely) liberation.’ I follow Wilhelm 1997:277; de Martino 1999:16–17 with further lit. (assuming a mistake of -an for -at) contra Neu 1996:324–326. Hurrian is identical, including the proleptic pronoun: Vs. i 19′–20′ nakk=i=uffu=š(š)a(< ž+n(n)a) kirenzi=ø. (CTH 789) KBo 32, 15Vs. ii 12′–13′ … n=an kuišša TÚGkušišiyaz waššaweni DÚS-un:18 ‘… Each of us will clothe him with a fine garment, (namely) the … god.’19 Hurrian is verb initial and does not employ the pronoun Vs. i 11′–12′: [(itt=i=l)]=eva=ž alāl(i)=ae ene. (CTH 789) KBo 32, 15Vs. ii 16′–17′ … n=an=kan pallantiyaz āppa tarnumeni DÚS-un20 ‘We will bring him, (namely) the … god, back from dire need.’21 Hurrian is fragmentary, verb initial and does not seem to contain the pronoun: Vs. i 16′ pend=i=l=eva=ž falli ..[.

1.1.2. The other one nominal constituent right dislocation is that of Subject, also doubled by the subject clitic (with restrictions according to Watkins–Garrett’s law). TYPE 1.2. tuwarnattaru=war=at uddār ‘May they, (namely) the words be broken’. -at here is a neutral gender plural pronoun coreferent with uddār ‘words.’ The clause corresponds to the unmarked type nu=wa(r) uddār tuwarnattaru ‘May the words be broken.’ 16

Cf. Haas cited in HEG P 465. If we follow Campbell’s analysis (2007:126) of mPurra=n as PN=3sg. ENCL. But, as Dr. Giorgieri notes in an e-mail of 20.03.2008, Hurrian may be different if we choose the other option: -an connecting phrases or words (see Giorgieri 2000:244; Wegner 2000:100; cf. Neu 1996: 398). In this case we would get m Purr(a)=an ‘also Purra’ in the phrase ‘And release also (-an) Purra, the captive!’ 18 Following CHD P 62 contra Neu 1996:312–315. Cf. Wilhelm 1997:280–281: DINGIR.UŠ-un. 19 Following Hoffner 21998:75; CHD P 62 contra Neu 1996:312–315. 20 Following CHD P 62 contra Neu 1996:323; Masson 2002:559; HEG P 390. Cf. Wilhelm 1997:280–281: DINGIR.UŠ-un. 21 CHD P 62: ‘We will release him, the DÚS, from depravation?.’ 17

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EXAMPLES 2 (CTH 404.1.I.A) KBo 39, 8Rs. iv 15–16 … tuwarnattaru=war=at ¶ūmanda ud[(d)]ār ¶urtāušš=a ‘May they, (namely) all the words and curses be broken.’ (CTH 404.1.I.A) KBo 39, 8Rs. iv 19–20 … katta=war=aš22=šmaš= kan (erased) waršan ēštu ịdālu uddār KA×U-aš EME-aš ‘May they, (namely) the evil words of the mouth (and) tongue be wiped off you.’ bis (CTH 788.1.A) KBo 19, 145Rs. iii 30′–35′ [(k)]uē[(zza=at=ka)]n ẉ[(ēr)] ānte[š NA4ḪI.A] # [(ku)] ẹ̄[(zza=at=ka)]n [(ÚUR.SAG)-az] katta maụššẹr [(ānteš NA4ḪI.A # ā)]nteš=kạn NẠ4 ÚỊ.Ạ [(URUNīnuwaz ÚUR.SAG) … -š]a?ziyạ-[ . -a]z? [(parā wēr x) … ]x šaš=kan […]ta x [(iwar) ] ẠNẠ [(DIŠ)TAR men]a¶¶andạ wẹ̄r ‘From what did they, (namely) the hot stones, come? From what mountain did they, (namely) the hot stones fall down?’ ‘The hot stones came forth from Nineve, from the mountain …] x x x [ … like … ]. They came to Šawuška.’ Hurrian text in Rs. iv 30′–35′ is too fragmentary. (CTH 789) KBo 32, 15Vs. ii 14′ [m]ān=aš ¶artanza=ma23 DIM-aš … ‘But if Tessup is ever dried out (? from the heat of the day).’24 Hurrian has identical word order, but no pronoun: Vs. i 14′ tapš=a=b šib=ā Teššob=ø. Probably also frgm. (CTH 470) KBo 41, 22rev. iii′–v′ [nu=wa(r) id]ālun UD-an ku x [- … DINGIRMEŠ-aš karpin panga[waš EME-an … # šameddu=war=at=kan he[š- … ‘Remove? the evil day, … the wrath of the gods, the tongue of the multitude, [ .] Let it disappear, (namely,) the x [ ].’25

1.2. A rarer phenomenon is a two nominal constituent right dislocation of TYPE 2. n=an pa¶¶ašnuandu labarnan paššileš ‘May the pebbles protect him, the Labarna’ where both Object NP labarnan and Subject NP paššileš are in the post final position, the common gender singular pronoun -an being coreferent with the Object NP. I interprete this type as right dislocation of two nominal constituents (O and S in the majority of cases; O and Adv; S and Adv).

22

Following Miller 2004:123 (supposing a mistake =aš= for =at=). See the discussion in Neu 1996:316–319 (¶urtanz(a)). Cf. CHD P 62 followed by HEG P 390: ¶arga!nz(a) ‘ruined(?).’ Wilhelm 1997:280–281: ¶artant- or ¶atant-. 24 Following Hoffner 21998:75. Cf. CHD P 62. 25 Following CHD Š 120. 23

216

Languages of the Ancient Near East EXAMPLES 3 V-S-O/V-O-S (CTH 704.II.2.A) KBo 39, 163+Vs. i 12′–13′ DIŠTAR QATAMMA ] warapzi # nu=[šši -z]i # ụnuškizzi=ma=aš LÚ SANGA DIM x [ ‘He bathes Šauška likewise. He [ ] for her. But the priest adorns them, (namely) Tessup (and) [Hebat? ].’ The interpretation of this fragmentary context is very likely in view of similar contexts employing the same verb unu-: ibid. 10′– 11′ ma¶¶an=ma arrumanzi zi[nnanzi] # n=an unuzzi … ‘When they finish washing (her), (s)he adorns her’ and ibid. 15′ [ ] x-an LÚ SANGA DINGIRMEŠ un[u]škizzi ‘The priest adorns the gods.’ (CTH 789) KBo 32, 14Vs. ii 55–56 … wala¶du=ya=an DIM-aš teššummin … ‘May Tessup strike it, (namely) the goblet.’ Hurrian is analogous (Subject and Object are in a different order; no proleptic pronoun): Vs. i 56 id=i26=e(n) kāzi=ø Teššoba=ž. (CTH 789) KBo 32, 14Rs.:46 … wala¶du=ya=an DIM-aš AN.ZA.GÀR ‘… May Tessup strike it, (namely) the tower.’ Hurrian is analogous (Subject and Object are in a different order; no proleptic pronoun): Rs.:39 id=i=e(n) kumdi=ø Teššoba=ž. (CTH 789) KBo 32, 14lk. Rd.:3 … walahdu=ya=a[t DIM-aš GIŠ-ru]27 ‘May Tessup strike it, (namely) the wood.’ Hurrian is analogous (Subject and Object are in a different order; no proleptic pronoun): Rs.:61 id=i=e(n) tāli=ø [Teššoba=ž]. (CTH 789) KBo 32, 14Vs. ii 13–14 … peššyandụ=ya=an aliyanan ṢĀIDUTIM … ‘May the hunters fell it, (namely) the deer.’ Hurrian is identical but for the proleptic pronoun: Vs. i 13–14 kut=t(< id)28=e(n) nāli=ø kēbel(i)=l(a)(< na)=až=už.

LÚ.MEŠ

(CTH 820.4) KBo 21, 22Rs.:39′–40′ … n=an pa¶¶ašnuandu lab[arn]an [LU]GAL-un paššileš ‘… May the pebbles protect him, the Labarna, the king.’ V-O-O (CTH 789) KBo 32, 15Vs. ii 18′–19′ n=an=kan ¶uịšnumini DIM-an LÚ šiššiyalan dammiš¶iškizzi=an kuiš … ‘We will save him, the Stormgod, in regard to the oppressor who is oppressing him …’ Following the argument of Dr. Giorgieri, e-mail of 20.03.2008 (LÚšiššiyalan is a nomen actoris/agentis, lit. ‘one who presses’; it functions as an accusative of relation in the clause). Cf. differently Hoffner 21998:75 (‘debtor’). Hurrian is very similar: Vs. i 18′–19′

26

Campbell 2007: 250: =ī=. See for the proleptic pronoun Neu 1996:210. 28 Campbell 2007:255, 493: kut=(i)t)=. 27

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eġel(=i)=l29=eva=š(š)a(< ž + n(n)a) Teššob=ø ¶enzi=(i=)da ¶amaz= i=a=š(š)e=dan ‘We want30 to save him, Tessup, from (the person) who oppresses (him) in relation to debt’ following Wilhelm 1997: 280–281 (contra Wegner 2000:206–207; cf. Hoffner 21998:79, n. 55). I think it is best to include LÚšiššiyalan into the clause in question (following Hoffner 21998:75 contra Neu 1996:323–324; Wegner 2000:208), as well as assess dammiš¶iškizzi=an kuiš as a relative clause (following Wilhelm 1997:280–281 contra Hoffner 2 1998:75: ‘Who (then) will oppress him?’ and, in principle Masson 2002:558). V-Adv-O/V-O-Adv (CTH 591.I.a.A) KBo 17, 88+Rs. iii 24′–26′ … āššuš=aš ¶alugaš wemiškiddu mayantan DUTU=šummin ftawanannan AN.BAR-aš GIŠDAGti …31 ‘May the good news find them, (namely) our vigorous “Sungod” (i. e. the king) (and) tawananna on the dais of iron.’32 (CTH 725.J) KUB 48, 2:2′–3′ [(dāir=m)]a=at URUḪa[(ttuši)] [(šalli G IŠ )] ŠÚ.A # dāir=m[(a=at)]33 ‘But in Hattuša they (the gods) placed it, (namely) the great throne. They placed it …’ Hattian word order is identical,34 there is no overt correspondence to the Hittite pronoun (3 sg. object is =ø=): ø=šu=ø= waa=ø35 URUḪattuš titta¶=zilat.36 (CTH 789) KBo 32, 216+Rs. iii 9′–11′ [(m)M]ẹ̄ki ịya=war=at [aššuli(?) URU]Ẹ̄b[l]a GIŠŠÚ.A-aš URU-r[i] [(par)]ā tarnumar ‘… Mekki, make it, (namely) liberation favourably in Ebla, the city of throne.’ No Hurrian text is preserved. Probably the original Hurrian version is retained in KBo 32, 62Vs. i 4′ [Mēgi] nakk=i ke[ld(i)=āi (without the pronoun!). See Neu 1996:491, 525. (CTH 789) KBo 32, 19Rs. iii 45′–46′ [m]ān=war=at UL=ma iyatteni [pa]rā tarnumar URUĒblai GIŠŠÚ.A-aš URU-ri ‘If you do not make it, (namely) liberation in Ebla, the city of throne.’

29

Campbell 2007:322: eġ=il(=i)=l°. Campbell 2007:322: ‘would.’ 31 Identical to KBo 20, 67+Rs. iv 24–25, 10–11 and 16–17 (both broken), probably also KBo 17, 88+Rs. iii 10′–12′ (the enclitic pronoun is in the lacuna). 32 The translation is after Klinger 1996:321, 330–331, 346; Garrett 1990:239 contra CHD L/N 117. 33 Now the context is also attested in late MS Or. 90/1147Vs. ii 1′ daī[(r/dai[ēr= ma-at, published by Süel–Soysal 2007:6 (see ibid. 3 for the dating). 34 Cf. Schuster 1974:67, 79f.; CHD L/N 164. 35 According to Soysal 2004:190–191 (not marking the final position). 36 Attested in NS (CTH 725.A) KUB 2, 2+Vs. ii 40–41; late MS Or. 90/401Vs.: 4, published by Süel–Soysal 2007:6 (see ibid. 3 for the dating). 30

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Languages of the Ancient Near East Hurrian word-order is identical,37 the enclitic proleptic pronoun is in lacuna: Rs. iv 45′–46′ [na]kk=i=o/u[šš=o=n(n)a ā]i38 kirenzi=ø Ebla=v[a] šēr(i)=že=[ne]. V-S-Adv (CTH 404.1.I.A) KBo 39, 8Rs. iii 34–35 … tuwarnattaru=war=at DUG ḫupuwaya KA×U-it EME-it … ‘May it, (namely) the ¶upuwa-vessel, be broken with mouth (and) tongue.’39

1.2.1. The structure outlined in 1.2 (Exx. 3) is very similar to verb fronting.40 The latter contains the verb in the initial/first position and two (or more) nominal constituents following it.41 No proleptics are used which is actually the only formal difference between most42 cases of this type and two nominal constituent right dislocation.43 1.2.2. There are also just two cases which likewise demonstrate two nominal constituents in the post final position, but contain neither a verb in the initial/first position, nor a proleptic pronoun:44

37

See de Martino 1997:81 for the anomalous word order in Hurrian! Cf. Neu 1996:394. 39 Contra Luraghi 1990:29 (but cf. ibid. 96), I do not refer to this section all movement of non-amplificatory (in her understanding) nominal constituents into the post-final position. 40 For MS examples see Sideltsev 2002:139–141. New examples are: late MS (CTH 725) Or. 90/132+Rs. iii 7–9 dāš=ma=z(a) DŠu[(līnkattiš)] LUGA[L?-uš] UNUTEMEŠ # n=at d[āš …, published by Süel–Soysal 2007:13 (see ibid. 3 for the dating). (CTH 646.1.A) KBo 39, 137+Vs.:33′ ] x x ši[panzak]izi=ma kụ̄š DINGIR.MAÚÚI.A. (CTH 404.1.I.A) KBo 39, 8Rs. iii 48 [(tarm)]ān=war=at ēštụ [(KA×)]U-it EME-it! Ḍ[(UTU-i kattan)] ‘Let it (i. e. the earth) be pegged, with mouth (and) tongue, for the sun-god below!’, following Miller 2004:93. 41 The syntactic transformation here is fronting of the verb. 42 Not all, as there is one case—(CTH 591.I.a.A) KBo 17, 88+Rs. iii 24′–26′ (Exx. 3)—where two nominal constituent right dislocation is different from verb fronting not only by the presence of the proleptic pronoun, but also by the verb position, which is neither first nor initial. 43 And this is so far the only formal reason to set the type of two nominal constituent right dislocation apart from verb fronting. Otherwise (i. e. if we assign it to verb fronting) the proleptics would be completely unmotivated. Besides, verb fronting does not in any case explain KBo 17, 88+ (see fn. 42). 44 The latter is easy to understand as the constituents to the right of the verb are neither direct objects nor subjects. Thus they do not constitute an exception to the usage outlined above. 38

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EXAMPLES 4 (CTH 151) VBoT 1Vs.:28–29 nu=tta kāšma pippeššar uppa¶un ạššul[i] kiššari=šši mIršappa LÚ¶alug[atallaš=maš] ‘Hereby I have sent you in the hand of my messenger Irsappa a shipment in good will: …’45 (followed by a list of gifts in 30–38). (CTH 591.I.a.A) KBo 17, 88+Rs. iii 8′–10′ … [(m)]ayạnti=ma f ÚI.A UTU=š[ummi tawanan(nai šakuaš M)]U -uš upp[i]šk[and]u TI ÚI.A [9-an] LIM 9-an d[a]n 9-an GAŠAN MU -uš …47 ‘Let them bring years to our vigorous Sungod (and) Tawananna for the eyes? 9 times 1000, twice 9 times, 9 times …? years.’48 D

1.2.2.1. The first example, (CTH 151) VBoT 1Vs.:28–29, belongs from standard Hittite point of view to “accented proleptic pronoun” inversions which are basically identical to “unaccented proleptic pronoun” inversions, the focus of the present paper. The only difference is the use of an accented pronoun or a generic noun (pippeššar in this case) in lieu of enclitic pronouns. Such inversions are very homogeneous (I would even say lexicalized) and are used to introduce lists of objects in rituals—the enumeration of objects is right dislocated (i. e. placed in the post final position) and referred to by an accented pronoun or a generic noun occupying the unmarked object position to the left of the verb.49 So, normally we would expect a structure like nu=tta kāšma pippeššar aššuli kiššari=šši mIršappa LÚ¶alugatallaš=maš uppa¶un followed by a list of gifts. The list of gifts would be the dislocated constituent, direct object to uppa-, cataphorically referred to by the generic noun pippeššar. Actually, this structure is already an inversion—of an “accented pronoun” type. The inversion in question (right dislocation of two constituents—aššuli and kiššari=šši mIršappa LÚ¶alugatallaš=maš) must have been applied to the “accented pronoun” type inversion secondarily (see 2.1.2 in more detail). 1.2.2.2. In whatever way we assess the only other example—(CTH 591.I.a.A) KBo 17, 88+Rs. iii 8′–10′—it will most certainly be highly ir-

45

After CHD P 271–272. Cf. Rost 1956:336. Starke’s analysis (1981:25–27) differs markedly. 46 Wrong placement of the paragraph divider. 47 Cf. without direct object ‘years’ in the post-final position in Rs. iv 22–23 KUR-antaš DINGIRMEŠ-aš DUTU[=šummi ftaw]anann[(ai š)]akụ?aš MUÚI.A-uš uppiškandu 9-a[n LIM] 9[-a]n dan 9̣[-an] GAŠANTI. 48 Following Klinger 1996:319, 344–346. 49 This semantically restricted usage is probably due to the specific semantics of accented pronouns, for which see Goedegebuure 2003, 6.4.3.1.

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regular too. The most obvious way of analyzing the context is to confront it with a nearly identical one in the same text (cited in fn. 48). The sole significant difference between the two contexts is the lack of direct object MUÚI.A-uš ‘years’ in the post-final position in the latter. The question is how to interprete the difference. There are basically two options: (1) MUÚI.A-uš was introduced into the post final position in Rs. iii 8′– 10′ to clarify the unconventional structure;50 (2) MUÚI.A-uš was deleted in Rs. iv 22–23 as tautological. I prefer the first option. In this case the first MUÚI.A-uš would behave as a kind of generic noun in the “accented proleptic pronoun” type inversion. The second option is unparallelled. So the primary clause for our discussion would be that of Rs. iv 22–23. Thus this inversion is a one nominal constituent right dislocation51 and is consequently irrelevant for our discussion.52 2. ANALYSIS. GRAMMATICALIZED USE First it is necessary to assess some peculiarities of the use of the inversion (the right dislocation of one or two nominal constituents), namely the type of text and statistics. First comes the type of text. If we consider the frequency of inversions of any kind53 in different types of texts, there will be three groups. The first group is constituted by texts belonging to CTH 789, 725, Mastigga, VBoT 1, Telipinu-myth. The second, by KBo 17, 65+, KBo 15, 10+, KUB 14, 1+, KBo 15, 25, KUB 15, 34+, KBo 17, 88+. The third, by all the rest of the texts.54 The distribution of all types of inversions in these three groups is as follows: the first group attests 63 inversions in 5 texts (12.6× in average); the second—21 inversions in 6 texts (3.5× in average); the third, 41 inversions in 33 texts (1.2× in average).

50

Mind also the paragraph divider in front of it! The constituent is represented by a series of coordinated Adv. 52 Certainly the use of GAŠANTI is enigmatic, but I cannot suggest any interpretation for it. 53 It is appropriate here to broaden the scope and consider all types of inversions, i. e. also verb, negation and adverbial ones. 54 The delimitation is different from that of my paper on inversions in Sideltsev 2002:177–178. 51

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The first group is mostly translations (bilinguals) from Hurrian55 and Hattian56 or texts, written within another tradition by a scribe whose native language was not Hittite (Mastigga—Kizzuwatnean tradition,57 Arzawa letter VBoT 1—Egyptian tradition58). The Telipinu-myth is a case apart. As is well known, it contains both Hattian and Kizzuwatnean (Hurro-Luwian) features. The most realistic assessment of this evidence is that the Hattian features were primary while Kizzuwatnean ones were either introduced secondarily or even spread from Hatti to Kizzuwatna.59 The considerable linguistic Luwian influence60 in either case is secondary and occurred in MH time while the composition is OH. The question, then, is what layer should the inverted word order belong to—Luwian or Hattian. The parallels with the OH/OS text edited as StBoT 861 which at the same time shows exceptionally big number of inversions (7×)62 of the same type as Telipinu-myth make it likely that the inversions belong to the OH time and may be due to Hattian influence. In any case, Telipinu-myth and StBoT 8 do not contain indications of another tradition which are as clear as all the rest of the texts in this group. The second and third groups are very heterogeneous. They include Hittite proper (KUB 14, 1+; KBo 15, 10+; KBo 15, 2563), Hurrian (KUB 15, 34+; KBo 19, 145; KBo 39, 163+), Hattian (KBo 17, 88+) and Luwian (KBo 17, 65+) texts. The considerable (3.6 times) difference between the statistics in the first and second group, as well as the one between the second and third groups (2.9 times) requires an explanation. There are no significant differences between groups 2 and 3 as for the type of text. I have to admit that both display Hittite proper type of inversions. Group 2 with its greater number of inversions is probably just more emotionally charged. The difference between group 1 and group 2

55

Texts belonging to CTH 789. CTH 725. 57 Miller 2004:244, 251, 253–257. The question what was the language of this tradition is open: there is one Luwian verb-form in the text—see Miller 2004:122. See also ibid. 110–111 on -kan/šan UDU šer ar¶a wa¶nu-. For possible Hurrian influence see fn. 136 in Sideltsev 2002. 58 See Starke 1981 passim. Cf. Eichner 1980:157; CHD P s. v. pippeššar w. lit. 59 Klinger 1996:132–133; Miller 2004:441–442, 455–457, both with ref. to earlier lit. 60 See references in Sideltsev 2002, fn. 137. 61 See Otten–Souček 1969:106–107. 62 For which see Luraghi 1990:112. 63 See Miller 2004:445–447. 56

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must be motivated in another way. It may be foreign language influence. There is a very clear correspondence between foreign language influence in 4 out of 5 texts of the first group. The only remaining text still has traces of another tradition. The opposite is, however, not true—there is no correspondence between the type of text and the number of inversions in groups 2 and 3: clearly Hittite texts fall into group 2 while some Hurrian and Hattian rituals (partly written in Hurrian and Hattian) are in group 3. Thus the hypothesis of foreign language influence only holds if we introduce another factor (a kind of filter between the foreign influence and the number of inversions which sometimes allowed and sometimes blocked foreign influence). It may be something like a scribe’s qualification: a careful and experienced scribe employed only stereotypical phrases, i. e. closely followed literary tradition which did not make significant use of inversions while a careless or inexperienced one did not and let the foreign language material penetrate his text. Consequently, we may conclude that inverted word order has experienced strong foreign language influence. The use of inversions in Hittite proper texts assures the fact that the type was not borrowed and that foreign influence only stimulated inner Hittite phenomena.64 Still even more interesting is the statistical difference between distribution of different types of inversions in these three different groups of texts. The difference actually forms a kind of hierarchy: inversion type

1 group

2 group

3 group

negation inversion V-Adv verb fronting one nominal constituent right dislocation two nominal constituent right dislocation

17% 35% 59% 74% 79%

23% 25% 14% 15% 14%

40% 40% 27% 11% 7%

64 See for more detail Sideltsev 2002 passim. For the difference between stimulation/triggering and borrowing see, among others, Birnbaum 1984:35: “One must differentiate between such influence which constitutes a purely mechanic transfer of altogether alien syntactic elements (functions, structures) to a language not in any way previously known to it, and the impact that merely implies the activation and enhancement of already existing or potentially developable formal means […] found within the grammatical system of the influenced language itself.” Ibid. 38: “[…] a distinction between a mere mechanical transfer of foreign syntactic patterns and the activation and intensification of pre-existent indigenous syntactic models or formal-functional means, inherent in the affected language but triggered by foreign influence.”

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This table proves the arbitrary character of groups 2 and 3—all they have in common is frequency of inversions. If, on the contrary, we reformulate the basis of grouping (i. e., delimit not between high frequency and lower frequency texts, but between “foreign” and “native” ones), we will get significantly different statistics: inversion type

foreign group

Hittite

negation inversion V-Adv verb fronting one nominal constituent right dislocation two nominal constituent right dislocation

37% 40% 69% 89.5% 93%

63% 60% 31% 10% 7%

I interpret the data as follows: negative inversions are a clearly native Hittite syntactic structure, which did not undergo any significant foreign influence.65 V-Adv and verb fronting (which may be indeed one class) are native Hittite (with OH parallels), they were stimulated by foreign language influence in MH period. 2.1. The higher we rise along the hierarchy, the more obvious is the foreign language influence. It actually becomes so heavy for nominal constituents right dislocations that a question arises—if the influence is so significant that we may actually suppose a borrowing. I tend to answer the question positively for two nominal constituent right dislocation. There are three reasons for this. First comes, naturally, the type of text where it mostly occurs. It is predominantly (93%) a “foreign” group, including most of the texts of group 1 (with the exception of Telipinu-myth) as well as “foreign” texts of lower-frequency groups 2 (KBo 17, 88+, a translation from Hattian)66 and 3 ((CTH 704.II.2.A) KBo 39, 163+, a Hurrian ritual). The only text not demonstrating obvious foreign language influence is (CTH 820.4) KBo 21, 22.67 Second, when two nominal constituent right dislocations are attested in the texts which are translations (moreover, bilinguals) from Hattian and Hurrian, they closely follow the other language syntactic structure. In the Hurro-Hittite Bilingual all the contexts with both Hurrian and

65

Which is easy to understand as neither Hattian nor Hurrian had negation as a separate word. 66 See Klinger 1996:253–254. 67 But cf. Watkins 1995:139.

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Hittite text preserved represent nearly complete correspondence68 between Hurrian and Hittite clauses as far as the word order is concerned. The same is true for the only context from the Hattian-Hittite Foundation ritual. An even more probative fact is that there are cases when translators from Hurrian into Hittite deliberately tried to avoid two nominal constituent right dislocations69 because they probably felt it did not fit into Hittite syntax. Third and very important is the fact that the syntactic type of right dislocation of two nominal constituents does not occur in the overwhelming majority of MH inversions where only one constituent is normally dislocated. Thus it is structurally isolated against the background of MH and OH syntax. 2.1.1. What is more, but for KBo 21, 22, I would consider two nominal constituent right dislocation not a feature of Hittite syntax, but a solecism—a mistranslation following the original language too closely, occurring from time to time. It is only KBo 21, 22 that makes us suppose a very sporadic use of two nominal constituent right dislocation outside translating from Hurrian, Hattian, Egyptian and probably Luwian. 2.1.2. The point—that two nominal constituent right dislocation is not a normal feature of Hittite syntax—is even more enhanced when we turn back to (CTH 151) VBoT 1Vs.:28–29 (Exx. 4). If we assume that there can only be one inversion at a time in a clause,70 the “accented proleptic pronoun” inversion will be a real syntactic transformation and the two nominal constituent right dislocation—just a result of translation from presumably Egyptian. Thus it can be interpreted as simply reflecting the Egyptian original. 2.2. An interesting feature is that despite the fact that influence came from such different and moreover genetically unrelated languages like Hurrian, Hattian, Egyptian and probably Luwian,71 the result—impact 68 With one notable exception—the dislocated constituents may be in a different order—see (CTH 789) KBo 32, 14Vs. ii 55–56 – Vs. i 56; (CTH 789) KBo 32, 14Rs.:46 – Rs.:39; (CTH 789) KBo 32, 14lk. Rd.:3 – Rs.:61 in Exx. 3. 69 See 3.1.1. 70 An assumption that seems likely in view of the emphatic nature of inversions: there can be only one focus or emphasis at a time in some piece of information/information unit. In any case, there is not a single case of an accented pronoun inversion combined with another (nominal constituent right dislocation or verb fronting) inversion in the same clause. 71 Cf. most recently Rieken 2006, where the problem of word order is not tackled.

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on the Hittite syntax is similar, if not identical. I will even venture to say that it is indistinguishable. Probably the reason is the typological similarity of the donor languages. 2.3. The question if one nominal constituent right dislocation is also a borrowed syntactic type is less clear. On the one hand, the statistics is very close to two nominal constituent right dislocation. Still, structurally one nominal constituent right dislocation does not differ from any native Hittite type of inversion—unlike two nominal constituent one. So, even if this type was brought into existence by foreign language influence (which seems possible), it was more assimilated by Hittite by MH period. Thus the most obvious difference of one and two nominal constituent right dislocations is their different status in Hittite—the former seems assimilated while the latter is not. 2.4. Summing up, we have to say that most types of inversions experienced some foreign language influence. However, its nature was different for different types: while verb fronting was stimulated by foreign language influence, two nominal constituent right dislocation was caused by foreign language influence, which is also possible (but less certain) for one nominal constituent right dislocation. Probably lack of certainty is due to the fact that it was borrowed earlier. 3. Now I will assess the second constituent part of right dislocation, namely proleptic pronouns. I will analyse in more detail their use in the bilinguals, that is the correspondence between Hurrian and Hittite proleptics in the Hurro-Hittite Bilingual (CTH 789) as well as Hattian and Hittite ones in the Hattian-Hittite Foundation ritual (CTH 725). 3.1. In CTH 789 Hittite proleptic pronouns translate Hurrian enclitic pronouns in the following cases: KBo 32, 15Vs. ii 18′–19′, 19′–20′; Rs. iii 15; KBo 32, 19Vs. ii 2–3 (all Exx. 1); probably fragmentary KBo 32, 19Rs. iii 45′ (Exx. 3). KBo 32, 13Vs. ii 30–32 (Exx. 8) is very special—see below. Proleptic pronoun is not used in Hittite while it is present in Hurrian only in KBo 32, 19Vs. ii 20–21 (Exx. 6). Proleptic pronouns are used only in Hittite (there is no Hurrian pronominal correspondence) in: KBo 32, 14Vs. ii 13–14, 55–56; Rs. iii 46; lk. Rd.:3 (Exx. 3); KBo 32, 15Vs. ii 12′–13′ (Exx. 1), 14′ (Exx. 2), 16′–17′

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(Exx. 1). Probably this is also the case with KBo 32, 216+Rs. iii 9′–11′72 (Exx. 3). Now to some interpretation of the correspondences. Mind that six (+ 1(?)) cases where proleptic pronouns were introduced only in Hittite are structurally identical: V-O(-S); V-S-O; V-S. They could be interpreted during the translation process into Hittite as verb fronting. Thus technically there was no necessity to introduce a proleptic pronon. It was the translator’s choice and the translator’s choice was determined by Hittite syntactic laws. In two more cases the translator had to use the Hittite proleptic pronoun as from Hittite point of view the inversions represented right dislocation of Object and thus required a proleptic according to Hittite syntactic laws. The same is true for all the cases where Hittite proleptic pronouns translate Hurrian proleptics, i. e. Hittite proleptics follow the rules of Hittite syntax. Proleptic enclitic pronoun in Hurrian does not correspond to Hittite enclitic pronoun when there are no Hittite syntactic reasons (i. e. right dislocation) for its use: EXAMPLES 5 (CTH 789) KBo 32, 14Vs. ii 35–36 … nu=za apēdani LÚ-ni DINGIRMEŠ šēr ¶attātar šiš¶ir … ‘The gods chose a wise course of action regarding that man …’73 Hurrian Vs. i 35–36 ta¶¶e=ne=va=l(la)74 ēn=ž/zāri=ø mād= ašt=a=b ed(i)=ī=da. (CTH 789) KBo 32, 13Vs. ii 1 DIM-aš ma¶¶an iyattat … ‘When Tessup went.’ Hurrian Vs. I 1 Teššob=ø fariž=a=nna Allani=va ‘Tessub went to Allani.’75 (CTH 789) KBo 32, 13Vs. ii 7–8 A.ŠÀ 7 tawallaš=ma=ššan ANA ḪI.A GIŠ GÌR.GUB GÌR =ŠU paraknut ‘He raised his feet on a footstool (consisting of) seven tawalla’s of field.’ Hurrian Vs. i 5–6 avihar(i)=ne=ve=ne=lla ur(i)=ī=l(la) admi= ne keligel=ešt=o=m.76

72

Although no Hurrian text is preserved, the original Hurrian version may be retained in KBo 32, 62Vs. i 4′ [mMēgi] nakk=i ke[ld(i)=āi (without the pronoun!). 73 Following Hoffner 21998:70. See also in detail Wilhelm 1992:130. 74 See for the proleptic -l(la) Catsanicos 1993, No. 27; Neu 1996:139. 75 Following Wilhelm 1992:130; Wegner 2000:179–180. For -nna see Neu 1996:231 and Wegner 2000:180.

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There are only two cases which do not fit into the system of Exx. 1–5. The first is KBo 32, 19Vs. ii 20–21 (Exx. 6) due to the fact that it does not translate the Hurrian proleptic pronoun into Hittite, although it is required by Hittite syntax! That is, if the translator kept closer to the Hurrian original in this very case, he would have produced a more standard Hittite text. The second is (CTH 789) KBo 32, 13Vs. ii 30–32 (Exx. 8).77 It is immediately apparent from confronting Hurrian and Hittite in this context that there is no complete correspondence between Hurrian and Hittite clauses. In Hurrian both kire=tte and tumn=adi=ne are different indications of ‘fingers’: kire=tte ‘the eight (fingers),’ tumn=adi=ne ‘in (two) groups of four.’78 As tumn=adi=ne is in “ne-case,” the pronoun -lla can only be coreferent with kire=tte in the previous clause. Thus Hittite (mis)translated Hurrian ‘in (two) group(s) of four they (the fingers)’ as ‘they, (namely) (her) four fingers’ changing the case of ‘group of four’ and adding ‘fingers.’ The result was a different syntactic function of Hittite -at in comparison with Hurrian -lla. For the analysis of these two last contexts within Hittite see Exx. 4, 6 and 7. 3.1.1. The following case is particularly interesting because practically the same clause is attested 6 times with variations in the use of proleptics and word order. Thus it can be very revealing both for translating from Hurrian into Hittite and for the use (or non-use) of proleptics. The data are as follows: 1. KBo 32, 19Vs. i 11–12 āi nakk=ed=ašš=o kirenzi=ø Ebla=va šēr(i)=že=ne KBo 32, 19Vs. ii 11–12 mān parā [tarnumar iyatteni] URUĒbla=ma [GIŠŠÚ.A-aš URU-ri] 2. KBo 32, 19Vs. i 12–13 man=a nakk=ed=ašš=o kirenzi=ø KBo 32, 19Vs. ii 13 nu mān par[ā tarnumar iyatte]ni 3. KBo 32, 19Vs. i 20–21 nakk=i=o/ušš=o=n(n)a kirenzi=ø Ebla= va šēr(i)=že=ne (Exx. 6) KBo 32, 19Vs. ii 20–23 mān UL=m[a= ø iya]tt[eni] parā tarnumar UR[UĒb]lai GIŠŠÚ.A-aš URU-ri

76

For the analysis of -l(la) see Wegner 2000:182 (indicator of pl. dir. Objekt). Cf. Neu 1996:242. 77 My analysis of this difficult context closely follows Dr. Giorgieri (e-mail of 20.03.2008). 78 See Giorgieri 2000:200; Wilhelm 1992:135 (“gruppo di Quattro/Gruppe von vier”).

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Languages of the Ancient Near East 4. KBo 32, 19Rs. iv 45′–46′ [na]kk=i=o/u[šš=o=n(n)a ā]i kirenzi=ø Ebla=v[a] šēr(i)=že=ne (Exx. 3) KBo 32, 19Rs. iii 45′–46′ [m]ān=war=at UL=ma iyatteni [pa]rā tarnumar URUĒblai GIŠŠÚ.A-aš URU-ri 5. KBo 32, 15Vs. i 19′–20′ nakk=i=uffu=š=š(š)a(< n(n)a) kirenzi=ø (Exx. 1) KBo 32, 19Vs. ii 19′–20′ UL=ma=an iyaweni parā tarnumar 6. No Hurrian text is preserved. Probably the original Hurrian version is preserved in KBo 32, 62Vs. i 4′ [mMēgi] nakk=i ke[ld(i)=āi KBo 32, 216+Rs. iii 9′–11′ [(m)Mē]ki iya=war=at [aššuli(?) URU ]Eb[l]a GIŠŠÚ.A-aš URU-r[i (par)]ā tarnumar (Exx. 3)

If we look at all the 6 cases of basically the same phrase parā tarnumar iya- : nakk- kirenzi=ø, sometimes enlarged by locative URUĒblai : Ebla=va, we will immediately see that: (1) two types of word order are attested in Hittite—V-O(-Adv) and OV(-Adv). The first is attested 4×, the second, 2× (in the same context, actually in one sentence), while in Hurrian only one type is attested— V-O(-Adv) 5×; (2) only two Hurrian clauses do not employ the proleptic enclitic pronoun (in the same context), which is copied by Hittite. Three others contain the pronoun. It corresponds in 2× to Hittite proleptic pronoun and is left untranslated in 1× (see 5.1). The proleptic was probably (?) added in Hittite in No. 6. Thus nakk-°(=n(n)a) kirenzi=ø (Ebla=va) was translated as parā tarnumar iya- (URUĒblai) or iya-=at parā tarnumar (URUĒblai). So I think that these data are extremely helpful to understand the nature of the two nominal constituent right dislocation. The Hurrian type nakk-°(=n(n)a) kirenzi=ø is clearly the starting point. Then it was optionally enlarged by Adv. In Hittite the structure was translated in two ways: (1) it was fully copied with the resulting solecist two nominal constituent right dislocation; (2) the position of the Object was changed—it was moved in front of the verb. Thus the resulting structure was more regular from Hittite point of view (which in this case represented just a one constituent right dislocation of Adv). This modification of Hurrian into Hittite is more standard from another point of view, namely the use of proleptics. The fact is that the Hurrian clause employs proleptics 3× (+ 1× frgm.) and does not 2× (+1×?). The reason for this difference is unclear and in any case remains outside the scope of the present paper. The Hittite, however, regularized this variation considerably:

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clear79 Hurrian V-O(-Adv) without the enclitic proleptic pronoun were translated as O-V(-Adv) which expectedly shows lack of the pronoun in Hittite. 3.1.2. At this point it is necessary to refute the hypothesis, formulated by Neu in his edition of CTH 789 (StBoT 32, pp. 144 and passim), according to which Hittite enclitic pronouns (including those with proleptic function) translate Hurrian transitivity markers. There are several reasons against this. (1) Hittite proleptics correspond to Hurrian transitivity marker only when they are required by Hittite syntactic laws (i. e. there is an Object to the right of the verb). They do not, when they are not (i. e. the Object is to the left of the verb). (2) There is no statistically meaningful correlation between transitivity markers (actually, the whole set of endings that expresses transitivity) and Hittite proleptic pronouns if we consider all the cases. Just one example will suffice: KBo 32, 15Rs. iv 15–18 (partly cited in Exx. 1) iža=ž ar=ol=aw=nna # ārd(i)=iffu=š=ša(< n(n)a) kirenzi=ø ar=i=a=mma # futki=ž Fazanigar=v(e)=až Sazalla=ž kirenzi=ø ar=i=a=mma. The Hittite text has a proleptic pronoun only in the correspondence to the first clause80 and uses none in the second and third clauses!81 Another good example demonstrating that it is not the transitivity markers that cause the use of enclitic pronouns is KBo 32, 14Rs. iv 9–10 šullūbri=ø ērbi=ne=ž ephe=ne tal=ahh=o=m # tal=a¶¶=o=m ep¶e=ne. Both clauses have identical transitive verbs, but in Hittite enclitic pronoun is used only in the translation of the second clause (Rs. iii 9–10 NINDA kugullan UR.GI7-aš UDUN-niya peran arha pittenut # parā=an=kan ¶uitiat UDUN-niyaz). So, the absolute majority of Hurrian transitive verb forms did not automatically cause the use of Hittite enclitic pronouns—if it was the case, there would be a number of unmotivated (from Hittite point of view), pleonastic enclitic pronouns, which is not true. The pronouns were sometimes used in Hittite to translate clauses including (inter alia) transitive verbs, but only when they were required by Hittite. The transitivity did not induce their use by itself.82 79

Which definitely does not include No. 6. Where Hurrian employs an enclitic pronoun and transitive verbal endings (not an explicit transitivity marker). 81 Where Hurrian attests no enclitic pronoun, but transitivity markers in both cases. 82 See also now Rizza’s paper read at Arbeitstagung der Indogermanishen Gesellschaft, September 2007. I formulated this idea already in Sideltsev 2002:150– 151. The difference between my current position and that of 2002 is that I sup80

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3.2. The data for Hattian are much more limited. Out of four cases analyzed in the present paper, only one certainly has an object marker, the rest do not: one is likely to have possessed it, but does not display it at face value in the current shape, i. e. at the level of the translator; two cases clearly have zero marking of object—see (CTH 725.J) KUB 48, 2: 2′–3′ (Exx. 3) and 5′–8′ (Exx. 1). Drawing from 3, and remembering that Hattian stimulated or caused the use of inversion,83 there were ample data in Hattian to influence the use of proleptics—primarily subject and object84 markers in the clitic chain which could theoretically induce the use of proleptics. But, surprisingly, in concrete examples only one proleptic Hittite pronoun out of four (25%) actually translates Hattian object markers. Thus it is hard to support the hypothesis of Schuster 1974:85.85 posed then (p. 148) that some correspondences between Hurrian and Hittite are so complete that it is possible to suppose that in these very concrete clauses Hittite proleptics translate Hurrian morphemes. But, in the same context I immediately added that Hittite proleptics even in these contexts follow Hittite syntactic laws. So both at that time and now I believe that Hittite proleptics as a system are independent from any single Hurrian syntactic or morphological feature. The reason for this is that there are two types of contexts: (1) a context where Hittite translation follows word-to-word the Hurrian original, the enclitic pronoun corresponds to the Hurrian one; (2) a context where Hittite translation follows word-to-word the Hurrian original, but the Hittite proleptic pronoun does not correspond to the Hurrian one (i. e., it is either used in the absence of a Hurrian pronoun or it is not used when a Hurrian pronoun is used). As the use (and non-use) of Hittite proleptics in both 1 and 2 follow the same set of rules, two conclusions can be made: (a) Hittite proleptics are a system of their own; (b) the system is independent from Hurrian. Of course, the synchronic correspondence of Hittite and Hurrian proleptics in concrete contexts of the first type is in this case incidental—the Hittite pronoun is used not because of the Hurrian pronoun, but because of a Hittite syntactic rule. Diachronically, the situation is slightly different. It is possible to interpret contexts of the first type as indicating diachronic stimulation/triggering by Hurrian pronouns of Hittite ones—not in this particular context, but rather in this type of context; not at this particular time, but at a time when Hurrian influence only started; not in this particular text, but rather in the first written texts or oral communication when Hurrian and Hittite came into contact. 83 See also Justus 1992:454–455. 84 But cf. the position of Goedegebuure who thinks there was not an explicit 3 sg. Patiens marker in the clitic chain (it was expressed by a zero morpheme)—see Goedegebuure 2003. 85 Cf. Pecchioli Daddi 2001:45, 556 who ascribes the Hittite word order to the influence of Hattian, but seems (?) to keep apart the proleptics.

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Alternatively, of course, we may suppose that the translator into Hittite was so sensitive about covert (zero) Hattian markers of 3 sg. object, that he regularly marked them as Hittite enclitic pronouns. Certainly, the supposition would explain all the rest of examples. But even in this case (which can be neither proved nor refuted) it remains an indisputable fact that the translator marked them only when it was possible from Hittite point of view86—see identical conclusions about the use of proleptics against the background of Hurrian transitivity in 3.1.2. 3.3. So, as I hope to have demonstrated in the previous sections of 3, the structures of one and two nominal constituent right dislocations may be different, but the use of proleptic pronouns is identical. Thus it can be said that the use of proleptics in Exx. 3 corresponds directly to that of Exx. 1 and 2: they are used if the object is to the right of the verb. If not, no proleptics are used (Exx. 4). What is more important is that this use of proleptics still conforms to the Hittite proper model even in Hurro-Hittite and Hattian-Hittite bilinguals—they are used only when they are required by Hittite syntactic laws.87 Naturally, another problem is why Hattian or Hurrian V-O is sometimes translated into Hittite as V=pron.-O and sometimes as V-O. It is the object of research of Dr. Rizza88 who thinks that comparing these two Hittite types of contexts will help us to understand the use of proleptics. It may well be so. However, I, at least at present, do not regard this as an object of analysis: I think that basically Hattian V-O was translated as Hittite V=pron.-O when it was understood as right dislocation of an NP; Hattian V-O was translated as Hittite V-O when it was understood as verbfronting. I cannot prove this point as I refuse to use functional analysis for dead languages, not because I think it is wrong, but because I think it is hard to apply it convincingly and objectively to a dead language. 3.4. Actually, if we look at statistics for proleptics, our conclusions should be different. In part 2 I cited the statistics for use of different 86

I. e. when they followed Hittite syntactic rules. See 3.1; see also 3.1.2 and 3.2 for a critical assessment of borrowed theories. Now Dr. Rizza in his (unpublished) work assesses different treatment of Hattian and Hurrian originals in Hittite as for the proleptic pronouns. As my Hattian data are so limited (the bulk of it being NS copies), discovery of any differences is impossible within my MS corpus. 88 Comunicazione al Sodalizio Glottologico Milanese, June 2006; paper read at Arbeitstagung der Indogermanishen Gesellschaft, September 2007. 87

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types of inversions in different types of texts. High frequency in the texts of the first group was one of the reasons why I considered the structure of two nominal constituent right dislocation to be borrowed. Now, the distribution of proleptics is as follows: proleptics in one nominal constituent right dislocations constitute 16× in the texts of the first group (84%), 2× in the texts of the second group (11%), 1× in the texts of the third group (5%). The statistics for proleptics in two nominal constituent right dislocations is not very much different: 8× in the texts of the first group (73%), 2× (18%), second, and 1× in the texts of the third group (9%). The combined statistics is: 78% in the first group, 13%, second, 9%, third. According to this statistics, the use of proleptics must have been more heavily influenced by foreign language than the use of one nominal constituent dislocations, practically to the same degree as two nominal constituent inversions! 3.5. Interestingly, this statistics is not supported by the bilingual influence: there is only one straightforward Hattian correspondence for them; in the Hurro-Hittite Bilingual they translate 6× (43%) the Hurrian proleptic pronoun, but there are no Hurrian correspondences for them in 8× (57%). There are also 4 cases when Hurrian proleptics are not translated into Hittite at all because they do not meet the Hittite requirements for the use of the pronouns. Thus the bilingual evidence clearly points to the fact that the use of proleptics is not dependant on Hurrian (or even more clearly, on Hattian). So, the statistics for proleptics and two nominal constituent right dislocation is basically identical. Neither seems to have been used in OH time.89 It should probably indicate equally borrowed character for both. But the behaviour of proleptics and two nominal constituent right dislocation is radically different in the bilingual texts: in the Hurro-Hittite Bilingual, as was already noticed, all the contexts with both Hurrian and Hittite text preserved represent complete correspondence between Hurrian and Hittite clauses as far as two nominal constituent right dislocation is concerned. The proleptics, as was shown in the previous paragraph, are used rather independently

89

See for OH Luraghi 1990:106–107. Mind that all of McCone’s NH examples (1979:470–471) with proleptics are from Ullikummi! The only context he cites from the tale of Appu (his number 5) is no longer relevant—see CHD Š 306– 307 w. lit.

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from any single syntactic Hurrian feature: they translate the Hurrian proleptic pronoun only in 43% of all cases when the pronoun is used in Hittite. 3.6. It is all the more intriguing because proleptics seem to be attested only in borrowed (two nominal constituent right dislocation) or likely to have been borrowed (one nominal constituent right dislocation) structures. 4. DATA. NON GRAMMATICALIZED USE So far I have discussed not only the use of proleptics, but also the expected (regular) non-use of them (in the structures O-V-S-Adv, etc.—see primarily Exx. 4 and 5). Now I will pass to the cases where there is no proleptic pronoun even though it should be used according to the rules set above (and going back to McCone), i. e. I will pass to exceptions. 4.1. First come the cases with no object proleptic pronoun: EXAMPLES 6 MS90 (CTH 631.1.A) KBo 17, 74+Vs. ii 31 LU[GAL-i] māniya¶¶i NINDA wagātaš 2-a¶¶i 2 GỊŠzạluwaniuš 2 DUG¶upparụš … ‘He hands over to the king 2 loaves of wagata-bread, two z. (and) two bowls.’ As is known (HEG T 94–95; Eichner 1992:51), the form 2-a¶¶i has two interpretations—as a 3 sg. pres. form of a verb ‘he doubles’ (Neu), or as the dual form of the numeral ‘a couple of loaves’ (Watkins, supported by Eichner). Syntactically, the first hypothesis would force us to assess the sentence as # LU[GAL-i] māniya¶¶i # NINDA wagātaš 2-a¶¶i # 2 GIŠzaluwaniuš 2 DUG¶upparuš #. As the meaning of the sentence in either analysis is basically the same, we would have two mistakes if we stick to this assessment: the clause 2 GIŠ zaluwaniuš 2 DUG¶upparuš would be without a verb; the meaning ‘two’ or ‘twice’ in the second clause would be expressed by a verb and by numerals in the third clause. All in all, the analysis would yield a very strange, unparallelled and presumably corrupt sentence. Watkins’s assessment, on the contrary, would produce one perfectly normal clause. Still, even this analysis would suppose an unusual feature: lack of a proleptic pronoun. (CTH 652.I.A) KBo 25, 109Rs.:9′–10′ … nu ANA DUMU.É.GAL mašiwan [āššu? # nu91 ap]iniššuwan ekuzi wēlwaš=pat DIM-an

90

Following Groddek 2002:92; 2004:99. Dated ah? in Košak’s electronic Konkordanz, version 1.1. 91 According to the collation by Prof. Dr. Wilhelm (e-mail of 16.10.2007) there is space in the lacuna only for the restoration nu, but not nu-uš. Thus only the res-

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D

Maliyan ‘The palace servant drinks the Stormgod of the meadow, the male gods, (and) Maliya as many times as (seems) good to him.’ (CTH 789) KBo 32, 19Vs. ii 20–21 mān UL=m[a iya]ạtt[eni] parā tarnumar UR[UĒb]lại GIŠŠÚ.A-aš URU-ri ‘If you do not make liberation in Ebla, the city of throne.’ Hurrian word-order is identical:92 Vs. i 20–21 nakk=i=o/ušš= o=n(n)a kirenzi=ø Ebla=va šēr(i)=že=ne. As different from Hittite, it employs enclitic proleptic pronoun -n(n)a.

4.2. There is one exception to the use of proleptics for the Subject. EXAMPLE 7 (CTH 404.1.I.A) KBo 39, 8Vs. ii 36–37 … SAG93 ÚI.A=šmaš tueggaš ¶ūmandāš tarpalliš UDU GE6 … ‘This black sheep (is) a substitute for your heads (and) all the parts of (your) bodies.’94

4.3. Thus the statistics for the use of proleptic pronouns for Object and Subject is identical: subject proleptic pronouns are used 6× (+ 1× frgm.)—86%, not used 1×, 14%, while object ones are used 24×, 89%, and not used 3×, 11%. The common ground is extreme rarity. 4.4. An important consequence of 4.1–4.2 is the fact that it is no longer possible to assess all verb initial clauses as verb fronting as was done in 1.2.1. Now at least part of them may be right dislocation of one or two nominal constituents without proleptics. It also means that in such cases the criteria to differentiate between verb fronting and right dislocation will be only functional. Needless to say, the criteria must be functional in any kind of analysis, but it is often very difficult to demonstrate functional difference objectively for a dead language and is only too easy to extrapolate onto it either the functional analysis of the native language of the scholar or typological data. Thus I am reluctant to employ purely functional criteria, excluding only the cases where the evidence seems particularly probative and unambiguous. I also set the cases of non-use of proleptics delimited on the basis of functional analysis apart from the ones on the basis of formal analysis and do not include them into statistics. toration of Bawanypeck–Görke (2001:40; CHD L/N 446) is possible contra CHD L/N 207 ([nuš]). 92 See de Martino 1997:81 for the anomalous word order in Hurrian! 93 Following Groddek 2004:12. 94 Cf. Miller 2004:75.

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4.4.1. The first example of functional analysis is (CTH 404.1.I.A) KBo 39, 8Vs. i 46–49 … KA×U-it EME-it [(kuit)] memiškittẹn # kinuna=wa(r) kāša tiššatwa # [(nu=wa(r)=šm)]aš=kan tu¶šan ēštu tuiggaš apedaš [(UD-aš E)]MEḪI.A … ‘What you spoke with the mouth (and) tongue—here are tiššatwa—let (it, namely) the tongues of those days be removed from your persons.’ A more accurate (but less readable) translation would be: ‘Let (it), what you spoke with the mouth (and) tongue—here are tiššatwa— (namely) the tongues of those days, be removed from your persons,’95 where ‘(it),’ ‘what you spoke’ and ‘the tongues of those days’ are coreferent.

The following example is likely to represent a starting point for (CTH 404.1.I.A) KBo 39, 8Vs. i 46–49: (CTH 404.1.I.A) KBo 39, 8Vs. ii 1–3 … kuịt=[(wa(r)=za=kan)] kuit ištarna ¶ūrzakitten # kin[(una=wa(r))] apuš ¶ūrtauš EMEḪI.A DUTU-uš GÙB ̣ -lạ w[(a¶nudd)u] ‘Whatever curses you spoke between you, let now the sun-god (un)twist those curses (and) tongues to the left!’ This example is a classical relative clause, where kuit kuit is resumed not by proleptic pronoun, but by NP apuš ¶ūrtauš EMEÚI.A. Confronting the two contexts, it is easy to see that (CTH 404.1.I.A) KBo 39, 8Vs. i 46–49 represents a combination of a relative clause and two nominal constituent right dislocation without the expected proleptic pronoun. Right dislocation, and not verb fronting in the context is likely due to the relative clause emphasizing ‘(evil) words,’ despite absence of any formal evidence for this. The other example comes from the same text: (CTH 404.1.I.A) KBo 39, 8Vs. i 40–42 [k]āš=wa(r) KU6-uš arụnaš # nu=wa(r)=kan kāš KU6 [m]ā¶¶an arun[a]z tu¶¶uštat # kinuna tu¶šandu [ap]edaš UD-aš EME[ḪI.].A ¶ūrtāuš … ‘This fish is the “mighty bull of the sea.” And just like this fish was removed from the sea, let now the tongues (and) curses of those days detach.’ GU4.MAÚ-aš

Here kāš KU6 and [ap]edaš UD-aš EME[ÚI.]A ¶ūrtāuš are likened and contrasted, which makes it plausible that it is [ap]edaš UD-aš EME[ÚI.]A ¶ūrtāuš that is focused (and right dislocated for focus) in the third clause. Many more possibilities of analysis like this exist, but I restrain from citing them. 95

The translation basically follows CHD L/N 24; HEG T 380. García Trabazo 2002:373 (“Lo que has hablado con la boca y la lengua—mira ahora las lenguas—, (eso) se te debe cortar de (tu) cuerpo: las lenguas durante aquellos días”) is the closest to our understanding. The translation of the last clause follows Miller 2004: 67–68.

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5. As different from 4.1 and 4.2, examples from this section demonstrate a certain instability of the use of proleptics, namely free variation of the use and non-use of proleptics within one context or one text synchronically or diachronically. There are two secure cases of variation to my knowledge in MS texts. 5.1. The first one was cited in 3.1.1. It unambiguously indicates that in Hittite there was a tendency to use proleptics with right dislocation, but it was not universal: KBo 32, 19Vs. ii 20–21 mān UL=m[a=ø iya]tt[eni] parā tarnumar UR U [ Ēb]lai GIŠšÚ.A-aš URU-ri (Exx. 6)

versus Vs. ii 19′–20′ UL=ma=an iyaweni parā tarnumar (Exx. 1), Rs. iii 45′–46′ [m]ān=war=at UL=ma iyatteni [pa]rā tarnumar URUĒblai GIŠ ŠÚ.A-aš URU-ri (Exx. 3), KBo 32, 216+Rs. iii 9′–11′ [(m)Mē]ki iya=war=at [URU]Eb[l]a GIŠŠÚ.Aaš URU-r[i (par)]ā tarnumar (Exx. 3).

5.2. The other case of variation is provided by one context in CTH 404:96 (CTH 404.1.I.A) KBo 39, 8Rs. iii 17–18 [(par)]ā=war=an=kan [(allapa¶)te]n apel UD-aš ¶urtiyaš 97 (Exx. 1)

versus NS (CTH 404.1.III) KBo 9, 106(+)Vs. ii 32–33 parā=wa(r)=kan allapa[¶ta ] EME-an, NS (CTH 404.1.II.D2) KBo 44, 19Vs. ii 15–16 parā=wa(r)=kan [ ] allapa¶ten apel UD-aš ¶urtiyaš

without the pronoun. If we want to reduce all these variants to one, we will have to follow Miller 2004:85, 120 that the original is preserved in 1.III, i. e. it contained no proleptic pronoun (here I differ from Miller) and ¶urtiyaš EMEan ‘tongue of the curses’ as the object. My following scenario basically follows Miller’s: EME-an was dropped (the stage is not attested). Then, on the one hand, II.D normalized ¶urtiyaš into ¶urtauš (regular acc. pl.) while I.A preserved gen. and introduced the proleptic pronoun. 96

Probably there are some other candidates—see Miller’s comments on I.B IV 1′ and II.E IV 8′ (2004:103). The contexts are, however, too fragmentary for any definitive conclusion. 97 Also preserved in I.C3 5–6′.

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So the original structure preserved in 1.III and minimally modified in II.D98 contained no proleptic. It was only later introduced in 1.A.99 5.3. In all the rest of the cases free variation of the use vs. non use of proleptics belongs to the NH period.100 5.3.1. The first NS case of variation is constituted by the phrase ‘He took (some objects). (He took them.) He put them (on an object)’ attested with identical word order in 2 contexts in CTH 725 (both without the pronoun): late MS101 (CTH 725) Or. 90/132+102 Rs. iii 7–9 dāš=ma=z(a)103 Šu[(līnkattiš)] LUGA[L?-uš] UNUTEMEŠ # n=at d[āš # n=at=kan] anda daiš ¶[attalwaš104 GIŠ-rui], late NS (CTH 725.C) KUB 48, 3:2′–3′ [d]āš=ma!=z(a) TÚ[GÚI.A KUŠ NÍG.BÀRAÚI.A KUŠE.SIRÚI.A=ya] # n=aš=šan d[āiš GIŠDAG-ti] D

versus NS (CTH 725.A) KUB 2, 2+Rs. iii 21 dāš=ma=aš=z(a) KUŠ NÍG.BÀRAÚI.A KUŠE.SIRÚI.A=ya] # n=aš=šan d[āiš GIŠDAG-ti].

TÚ[GÚI.A

The parallelism of the contexts was already noticed by Schuster (1974: 116): the Hattian verb corresponding to [d]āš=ma=z(a) and dāš=ma= aš=z(a) is the same a (3 sg./pl. subject)=n (sg. object)=tu¶.105 The fact that 98

It implies that NS copies of this text show and thus go back to a MS manuscript more archaic than extant MS copies. See for the phenomenon in CTH 404 Sideltsev 2002 passim (specially for word order) and Miller 2004:240 and esp. 243. 99 Thus I explicitly disagree with Miller (ibid. 120) that lack of the pronoun is a secondary feature. Actually, it is represented by 1.III which is certainly more correct. Consequently, I think it is better to treat it as reflecting the original situation in all respects. 100 (CTH 324.1.A) KUB 17, 10Vs. i 28′–29′ (see Exx. 1) versus NS II.A IBoT 3.141+Vs.:16′ … UL=war=an wemiyanu[n] # is not actually a variation of the use vs non-use of proleptics: in the MS copy the pronoun is proleptic, in NS—not as the coreferent noun was deleted by the copyist, quite likely in NH time. 101 The dating follows Süel–Soysal 2007:3. 102 The text is published in Süel–Soysal 2007:13. The restorations in the second and third clauses are mine. See also parallel (the only difference is šarā in the clause n=at [dāš) late MS Or. 90/995+Vs. ii 6′–7′, published ibid. 14 (see ibid. 3 for the dating). 103 Identical to the NS dupl. (CTH 725.A) KUB 2, 2+Rs. iii 48. 104 Unfortunately, the remains of the sign in front of the lacuna as seen in the photo in Süel–Soysal 2007:21 do not fit the ÚA sign easily. 105 See Soysal 2004:189, 206, 210, 369. Cf. ān(3 sg. AGENS)-ø(3 sg. PATIENS)-tu¶-ø in Goedegebuure’s article in the present volume.

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-aš is present only in the NS copy106 was plausibly interpreted by Schuster (1974:116) as its secondary introduction in NH period. 5.3.2. A contrary phenomenon—deletion of a proleptic—is attested in CTH 591. It involves a proleptic pronoun in MS (CTH 591.I.a.A) KBo 17, 88+Rs. iii 24′–26′ (Exx. 3)—very regularly used throughout the text as the clause is repeated 5×—versus its NS duplicate I.a.E KUB 57, 27: 2′–5′ without the pronoun. In this case the pronoun was probably deleted by the NS copyist in NH period. 5.4. It is noteworthy that examples from 5.2 and 5.3 are not unidirectional—they demonstrate both introduction (5.2, 5.3.1) and deletion (5.3.2) of proleptics diachronically. 6. The following contexts contain a proleptic object pronoun, but no inversion. EXAMPLES 8 (CTH 186) HKM 10Vs.:8–9 … URULišipra=wa(r) kuin aše[š]¶[i] # nu=war=an=za imma 3 ME ÉTUM arnum[i] ‘I will deport it, (namely) indeed 300 households (from) Lišipra which I resettle.’107 The translation is rather tentative. The analysis is as follows: -an both resumes the relative clause ‘Lišipra, which I resettle’ and refers proleptically forward to 300 households, lit. ‘Lišipra, which I resettle, I will remove it, namely 300 households.’ Frgm. (CTH 323.B) KUB 36, 44+Vs!. i 12′–13′ [..(.)] DUTU-uš aruni antagašša pait # n=aš DUGÚA[B.ÚAB … IŠTU] GAB.LÀL gariet # šer=a namma URUDU-an ištap[paš/-ta ‘The Sungod went to the Sea, to his loins.108 (He) covered them, (namely) the KUKUBU vessels … with wax. Then (he) stopped (them) on top (with) copper.’ (CTH 480) KUB 29, 7+Rs.:29–30 … ṇ=at109 DINGIRLUM LÚŠE.KIN. KUD-aš mā¶¶an miyān iyatnuwan ¶āšuwāiSAR […] x [.] waršta … ‘And the deity, like a reaper, has reaped it, the growing, luxuriant soapwort […].’110

106

The only relevant late MS text (dated, published and restored in Süel–Soysal 2007:3, 12: Or. 90/132+Vs. ii 10′–11′ dạ̄[š … # n=a[š=šan is too fragmentary. 107 Cf. Luehr 2001:340–341; Alp 1991:135: ‘Lišipra, das ich (wieder) besiedelt[e,] von dort werde ich ganz und gar dreihundert Familien fortführen.’ 108 Following Melchert 2003:281. Cf. Hoffner 21998:27; Pecchioli Daddi 2001:64. 109 The reading follows CHD P 399. Cf. Torri 2003:160; Lebrun 1976:123; Trabazo 2002:502. 110 Following CHD P 399 and HED M 8. Cf. Torri 2003:161; Lebrun 1976: 123; Trabazo 2002:503; HED H 211.

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(CTH 789) KBo 32, 13Vs. ii 30–32 kišraš=ma=šši galulupēš=šeš talugaē[š] # n=at=kan miyawēš=pat galulupēš [ANA B]IBRI kattanta kiantari ‘The fingers of her hand (are) long. They, (namely) (her) four fingers were placed under the animal-shaped vessel.’111 Hurrian is not pleonastic: Vs. i 29–30 fug=ugar=ī kire=tte # tumn=adi=ne=lla ¶uruffe=ve=ne tud=uff=a. ‘The eight (fingers) stretch/open. In (two) group(s) of four they (the fingers) lay under the animal shaped vessel.’ The analysis of Hurrian follows Dr. Giorgieri (e-mail of 20.03.2008).112 See for discussion 3.1. bis late MS113 (CTH 447.B) KBo 11, 72+Vs. ii 32′–33′ … n=uš ḪI.A LUGAL-i MUNUS.LUGAL-ri talugauš MU -uš pāi # namma=at ANA LUGAL gimri tar¶uilatar pāi ‘Give them, (namely) long years to the king (and) queen. Then give it, (namely) valour in the (battle)field to the king.’

6.1. Exx. 8 clearly do not fit into the system of Exx. 1–5 as their most conspicuous feature is pleonastic use of the proleptics without inversion.114 They cannot easily be explained as secondary in relation to that system. 7. ANALYSIS. NON GRAMMATICALIZED USE So, now that all the cases of non-use or pleonastic use of proleptics have been assessed, one may want to make use of them to understand the origin and development of the system.115 I suppose that it is possible to regard the non-use or pleonastic use as primary (later followed by the system with free variation) in comparison with the fully developed system displayed in Exx. 1–5. 7.1. The reason for this is the difficulty to explain away Exx. 6–8 as secondary development. For example, as a philological explanation for KBo 17, 74+ (Exx. 6) we may assume that the lack of the proleptic pronoun is due to its transformation while copying. It is certain that the composition of CTH 631

111

Following Neu 1996:269; Hoffner 21998:75 contra HED M 116. See also Wegner 2000:123: -lla refers to the fingers. 113 See Popko 2003:447, 18; Groddek 2004:51–52. Cf. electronic Konkordanz, version 1.1. 114 The type was noted by Garrett (1990:264–266) with NS examples. I assess his only MS example (CTH 262) IBoT 1, 36Vs. i 5 rather as possessor raising because of a different restoration: [I]GIÚI.A-ŠU=ma=at=kan parā nē[an]teš … ‘… they, (namely) their eyes (being) turned outwards,’ following Güterbock–van den Hout 1991. I am also reluctant at present to refer 1 and 2 person pronouns to this type. 115 Cf. Garrett 1990:264–266 for whom pleonastic pronouns remained a mystery. 112

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goes back to OH time (actually, there are OS texts in this group—see Košak’s electronic Konkordanz, version 1.1). So while being copied, the numeral 2-a¶¶i may have been reanalyzed as a verb116, thus constituting a separate clause # NINDAwagātaš 2-a¶¶i #. This could have led to the deletion of the pronoun in *LUGAL-i=at māniya¶¶i. Unfortunately, this assessment may be very good on paper—but how does one reanalyze a numeral as a verb, especially if this reanalysis leads to an ungrammatical structure? Besides, the text may actually be OS (see fn. 90) and thus the hypothesis of a long period of copying would not hold. A textual explanation for KBo 32, 19Vs. ii 20–21 (Exx. 6) may be as follows. The context is preceded (in ll. 11–12 and 12–13) by similar contexts ((nu) mān parā tarnumar iyatteni (URUEbla=ma GIŠŠÚ.A-aš URU-ri)) which do not correspond directly to Hurrian, as the latter attests clause initial verb and no proleptic pronoun. The context which is located further from these three—in Rs. iii 45′–46′—does have a proleptic pronoun. Thus, the easiest way to assess the evidence is to assume that the text in question does not have the pronoun due to its “attraction” to ll. 11–12 and 12–13. We can interprete the “attaction” in the following way: the translator automatically continued not to use proleptic pronouns in the third similar context although this time (as different from two first ones) it was present in the Hurrian original, but decided to follow (for the first time in KBo 32, 19) the word order of the Hurrian original. The main weakness of this analysis is that the word order of KBo 32, 19Vs. ii 20–21 actually corresponds directly to that of its Hurrian original117 and not to the word order of ll. 11–12 and 12–13 where Hurrian word order was modified in the Hittite translation. Besides, KBo 32, 19Vs. ii 20–21 is textually far enough from ll. 11–12, 12–13. There is no philological way to explain away Ex. 7. KBo 39, 8Rs. iii 17–18 clearly implies that the proleptic was introduced secondarily (see 5.2). The only example for which there is a relatively easy philological explanation is (CTH 789) KBo 32, 13Vs. ii 30–32 (Exx. 8). The pronoun became proleptic in Hittite because of a (mis)translation of Hurrian adverbial modifier as subject in Hittite (see 3.1). Thus in this very case the pleonastic proleptic is due to an incomplete transformation during translation and has nothing to do with either Hittite or Hurrian prolepsis: one part of the Hurrian phrase (Adv NP) was transformed in Hittite while the other 116 117

Homonymous with the numeral—see Eichner 1992:51. See 3.1.1 for the analysis of the correspondence with Hurrian.

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(pronoun) which would normally have had to be modified as well (deleted in this case in Hittite), was not transformed due to the scribe’s slip. 7.2. It follows from 7.1 that explanation of Exx. 6–8 as secondary development suggested in 7.1 is untenable. Thus, on the basis of the available data I sketch the following scenario: right dislocations

proleptics

0. One nominal constituent dislocation was attested sporadically, or not attested at all.

0. Enclitic pronouns were used pleonastically in non-inverted clauses.118 The remnants of this system are retained in (CTH 323.B) KUB 36, 44+Vs!. i 12′–13′, (CTH 480) KUB 29, 7+Rs.:29–30 and (CTH 447.B) KBo 11, 72+Vs. ii 32′–33′ (all—Exx. 8). 0.1. Enclitic pronouns were also used pleonastically in translations from a foreign language—as in (CTH 789) KBo 32, 13Vs. ii 30–32 (Exx. 8).119

1. One nominal constituent dislocation was either borrowed or very heavily stimulated by a foreign language.

1. Enclitic pronouns were not first used in the new structure as in Exx. 6–7.

2. It started to be assimilated by Hittite.

2. Enclitic pronouns were introduced into one nominal constituent right dislocation on the analogy of relative clauses, triggered by foreign language influence120. This stage can be asserted on the basis of comparison between (CTH 404.1.I.A) KBo 39, 8Rs. iv 19–20 and (CTH 404.2) KUB 34, 82+Vs. i 18′–20′ (see 7.3). The introduction can be most clearly seen in (CTH 404.1.I.A) KBo 39, 8Rs. iii 17–18 in comparison with its duplicates (see 5.2). Initially, their use was

118

The stage is definitely MH, judging from the nature of Exx. 8. By itself this context can be explained as an incomplete transformation of Hurrian and thus simply a translator’s slip—see 7.1 (end). But in the broader context of other pleonastic uses of pronouns (see 0 in this table) it may be assessed as regular. 120 E. g., Hurrian—the clearest case—certainly possessed a kind of proleptic pronouns. Thus it could provide an initial impulse for Hittite to modify the use of enclitic pronouns in order to imitate this aspect of Hurrian syntax. But the impact could be nothing more than a trigger as the Hurrian system differs considerably by the fact that the structure resembling Hittite nominal constituent right dislocation did not automatically require a proleptic pronoun. 119

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Languages of the Ancient Near East not completely stabilized, as reflected in lack of proleptics in Exx. 6–7 and variation between their use and non-use in the texts of group 1 (see 5.1).

3. A new structure was borrowed and not yet assimilated— two nominal constituent right dislocation.

3. Enclitic pronouns functioned in the new structure as well, as it was syntactically similar to one nominal constituent right dislocation. They were nearly grammaticalized in both types of right dislocations.

7.3. The analogy which I proposed in section 2 of the table above is likely to be between relative clauses121 and right dislocations. It set the model for the specific Hittite use of proleptics in right dislocation constructions, different from Hurrian or any other language. So, right dislocations (as well as left ones)122 “borrowed” the proleptic by the proportion: PROLEPTIC … # RELATIVE PRONOUN + noun … vs. PROLEPTIC … dislocated NP.

This stage is probably attested in

121

Which were already widely attested in OH time displaying two structures RELATIVE PRONOUN + noun … # PROLEPTIC … and PROLEPTIC … # RELATIVE PRONOUN + noun … . 122 Mind that the other relative structure—RELATIVE PRONOUN + noun … # PROLEPTIC … also introduced proleptics into the other type of dislocation—left one (left dislocated NP # PROLEPTIC …, i. e. emphatic movement of nominal constituents (actually only Object) into the cleft clause preceding the main clause for topicalization). See Garrett 1994:36; Rieken 2000:411–419: bis (CTH 324.1.A) KUB 17, 10Vs. ii 36′ – Rs. iii 2 … n=an ar[āit] ## karpiš # n=an arāit ## kardimiy[az # n=an] arāit ## šāwar arāit ‘She held him in check. The anger, she stopped/lifted it. The wrath, she stopped/lifted it. She stopped/lifted the sullenness.’ See for the analysis Kassian et al. 2002:530, fn. 25 w. lit. Cf. Luraghi 1990:101; Mazoyer 2003:47, 76, 101. (CTH 412.3) KUB 12, 63+Vs.:30′ manikuwanduš=a KASKALḪI.A-uš # UL=aš dalugnula … ‘The short roads, they are not for lengthening.’ The proleptic is acc. pl. in Hittite. The translation is tentative, the analysis is not, see Rieken 2000:465–466; HEG P 468 w. lit. (CTH 412.3) KUB 12, 63+Vs.:31′ kappauš ḪUR.SAGMEŠ # UL=uš parganula … ‘The low mountains, they are not for raising’; parallel to the previous context. Cf. wrongly Sideltsev 2002:158–159. The complete symmetry between two types of relative clauses and two types of NP dislocations makes the proposed proportion all the more likely.

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(CTH 404.1.I.A) KBo 39, 8Rs. iv 19–20 … katta=war=aš=šmaš=kan (erased) waršan ēštu ịdālu uddār KA×U-aš EME-aš ‘May they, (namely) the evil words of the mouth (and) tongue be wiped off you.’ (CTH 404.2) KUB 34, 82+Vs. i 18′–20′ [ka]tta=war=at=ta=kkan waršan ēštu # RELATIVE CLAUSE: kēdani UD-ti kue [u]ddār aniyawen # nu=wa(r)=ta=kkan idālu uddār katta [QATAM]MA waršan ēštu ‘Let the matters which we have performed today be washed off of you! And let the evil words likewise be washed off of you!’

(CTH 404.1.I.A) KBo 39, 8Rs. iv 19–20 contains “classical” one nominal constituent right dislocation, accompanied by a proleptic. It corresponds in another version of the text (CTH 404.2) KUB 34, 82+Vs. i 18′–20′ to two clauses, the first of which is identical syntactically with one important difference: it attests a relative clause in the place of the dislocated nominal constituent of the first clause. So it is likely to demonstrate initial stage of the use of proleptic pronoun in the structure of right dislocation, analogical after the relative clause. 7.4. As I said above, I consider non-use and pleonastic use of proleptics as primary and consequently more archaic. The problem here is that many examples of both types do not behave as archaisms—they seem to be used (and produced) at later stages of Hittite as well, namely in late MH (see HKM 10 and KBo 11, 72+ among Exx. 8) and even NH (see 5.3). Thus it makes sense to consider them rather typological archaisms (i. e. this kind of use is primary). Their concrete realizations, on the contrary, function not as fossilized remnants of a prior system, but rather as statistically limited marginal systems capable of producing a limited number of new ‘live’ clauses—consequently recreating archaic systems anew.123 It is easy to see how this came into existence on the basis of free variation from 5.2–5.3. Part of free variation examples (5.2) can be interpreted as preserving primary system and part of them (5.3.1–5.3.2) as testifying to the free variation resulting from the synchronic coexistence of primary (non-use of proleptics with right dislocation) and secondary (use of proleptics with right dislocation) systems in NH period. The distinction is based on chronology of attestations. Mind, however, that variation within 5.2 is different as in CTH 404 NS copies systematically preserve more regular MH variants than MS.

123 The practical implication of this for systems 1 (use of proleptics) and 2 (non-use of proleptics) is the fact that system 1 was never completely grammaticalized (although it came very close to it).

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8. CONCLUSION My conclusions are actually twofold. They concern both types of inversions and the use of proleptics. First, I hope to have demonstrated that Hittite texts attest three subsystems as far as the use of proleptics is concerned: in the first one proleptic pronouns were used with (and) regularly required by right dislocation; in the second one the use of proleptics is not obligatory with right dislocation (there are cases of non-use of proleptics as well as free variation of the use vs non-use of proleptics); the third one is independent of right dislocation and attests pleonastic use of proleptics. I consider the third system to be primary and the second one to represent remnants of the original system before the use of proleptics was nearly grammaticalized in the right dislocation construction. My second conclusion deals with types of inversion. I suppose that the textual distribution in combination with bilingual evidence unambiguously testifies to the fact that two nominal constituent right dislocation was a borrowed syntactic type, moreover, a solecism which only in one case spread to a non-translational context. This is also possible for one nominal constituent right dislocation. On the contrary, negation right dislocation and verb fronting (which are outside the scope of the present paper) were native Hittite structures only stimulated by foreign language influence (i. e. they occur most commonly in the texts with strong foreign language influence). The proleptics are more complicated. On the one hand, the statistics for proleptics and two nominal constituent right dislocation is basically identical. Neither seems to have been used in OH time. It should probably indicate equally borrowed character for both. But, on the other hand, the behaviour of proleptics and two nominal constituent right dislocation is radically different in the bilingual texts: in the Hurro-Hittite Bilingual, all the contexts with both Hurrian and Hittite text preserved represent complete correspondence between Hurrian and Hittite clauses as far as word order within two nominal constituent right dislocation is concerned. On the contrary, the proleptics are used rather independently from any single syntactic Hurrian feature: they translate the Hurrian proleptic pronoun only in 43% of all cases when the pronoun is used in Hittite; they correspond even poorer to the Hurrian transitivity markers. Thus proleptics follow their own rules rather than simply copying Hurrian or Hattian even though they are mostly used in borrowed structures. The fact that the use of proleptics was predominantly limited to the texts of groups 1 and (to a much lesser extent) 2 just reflects the distribution of

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borrowed syntactic types where they were used. The proleptics themselves seem to be the Hittite element even in these borrowed structures. Thus I differ explicitly from Luraghi 1990:130, fn. 31 (citing Güterbock) that “the frequent pattern with co-referential ‘proleptic’ clitic and post-verbal Subject is in fact a Hurrian construction.” The pattern is both Hurrian (Hattian) and Hittite. So, the scenario that may explain all this confusing array of data may be as follows. First, enclitic pronouns were not used cataphorically but pleonastically. Then, after one nominal constituent right dislocation structure was established in Hittite, they were introduced into it on the analogy of relative clauses. Their use was not first completely stabilized. Thus enclitic pronouns started to be used proleptically on the basis of an inner Hittite analogy possibly in an attempt to make the borrowed structure more Hittite. The foreign language influence may have been instrumental in the introduction—but as the initial trigger only. The use of enclitic pronouns was stabilized within Hittite without any reference to foreign language influence. References Alp 1991 Bawanypeck–Görke 2001

Birnbaum 1984

Campbell 2007 Catsanicos 1993 Eichner 1980

Eichner 1992

Alp, S. Hethitische Briefe aus Maşat-Höyük. Ankara. Bawanypeck, D; Görke, S. Das Festritual für den Wettergott der Wiese. Richter Th. et al. (eds.). Kulturgeschichte. Altorientalische Studien für V. Haas zum 65. Geburtstag. Saarbrücken. Pp. 29–50. Birnbaum, H. Divergence and Convergence in Linguistic Evolution. Fisiak, J. (ed.). Historical Syntax. Papers from the VIth International Conference on Historical Linguistics, Poznan, 22–26 August 1983 (CILT 34). Berlin. Pp. 25–46. Campbell, D. Mood and Modality in Hurrian. 1. PhD. Diss. Chicago. Catsanicos, J. Unpublished report at II Congresso Internazionale di Hittitologia. Pavia, 28 giugno – 2 luglio 1993. Eichner, H. Phonetik und Lautgesetze des Hethitischen – ein Weg zu ihrer Entschlüsselung. Mayrhofer, M.; Peters, M.; Pfeiffer, O. E. (eds.). Lautgeschichte und Etymologie. Akten der VI. Fachtagung der Indogermanischen Gesellschaft, Wien, 24.–29. September 1978. Wiesbaden. Pp. 120–165. Eichner, H. Anatolian Numerals. Gvozdanovic, J. (ed.). Indo-European Numerals (Trends in Linguistics—Studies and Monographs 57). Berlin–New York. Pp. 29–96.

246 García Trabazo 2002 Garrett 1990 Garrett 1994 Giorgieri 2000 Goedegebuure 2003

Groddek 2002 Groddek 2004 Güterbock– van den Hout 1991 Hoffner 21998 Justus 1992

Kassian 2000 Kassian et al. 2002 Klinger 1996 Lebrun 1976 Luraghi 1990 Luehr 2001

de Martino 1997 de Martino 1999

Masson 2002

Mazoyer 2003 McCone 1979

Languages of the Ancient Near East García Trabazo J. V. Textos religiosos hititas. Mitos, plegarias y rituales. Madrid. Garrett, A. The Syntax of Anatolian Pronominal Clitics. PhD. Diss. Harvard University. Garrett, A. Relative Clause Syntax in Lycian and Hittite. Sprache 36:29–59. Giorgieri, M. Schizzo grammaticale della lingua hurrica. PdP 55:171–277. Goedegebuure, P. Reference, Deixis and Focus in Hittite. The Demonstratives ka- ‘this,’ apa- ‘that’ and asi- ‘yon.’ PhD. Diss. Amsterdam. Groddek, D. Hethitische Texte in Transkription. KBo 30. (DBH-P 2). Dresden. Groddek, D. Hethitische Texte in Transkription. KBo 39. (DBH-P 11) Dresden. Güterbock, H. G.; van den Hout, Th. P. J. The Hittite Instruction for the Royal Bodyguard (AS 24). Chicago. Hoffner, H. A. Hittite Myths (SBL WAW 2). Atlanta. Justus, C. F. The Impact of Non-Indo-European Languages on Anatolian. Polomé, E. C.; Winter W. (eds.). Reconstructing Languages and Cultures. Berlin–New York. Kassian, A. S. Two Middle Hittite Rituals Mentioning fZiplantawija, Sister of the Hittite King mTuthalija II/I. Moscow. Kassian, A. S. et al. Hittite Funerary Rituals, šalliš waštaiš (AOAT 288). Münster. Klinger, J. Untersuchungen zur Rekonstruktion der hattischen Kultschicht (StBoT 37). Wiesbaden. Lebrun, R. Šamuha, foyer religieux de l’empire hittite. Louvain-la-Neuve. Luraghi, S. Old Hittite Sentence Structure. London. Luehr, R. Relativsartze im Hethitischen. Wilhelm, G. (Hrsg.). Akten des IV. Internationalen Kongresses für Hethitologie. Würzburg, 4.–8. Oktober 1999 (StBoT 45). Wiesbaden. Pp. 333–346. de Martino, S. Qualche osservazione sull’uso delle congiunzioni nella bilingue hurrico-ittita. SMEA 39:75–83. de Martino, S. Problemi di traduzione per antichi scribi ittiti: la redazione bilingue del “canto della liberazione”. Hethitica 14:7–18. Masson, E. La charge des mots. de Martino, S.; Pecchioli Daddi, F. (eds.). Anatolia antica. Studi in memoria di Fiorella Imparati (Eothen 11). Firenze. Mazoyer, M. Télipinu, le dieu marécage. Essai sur les mythes fondateurs du royaume hittite. Paris. McCone, K. R. The Diachronic Possibilities of the IndoEuropean “Amplified” Sentence: A Case History from An-

A. V. Sideltsev, Proleptic Pronouns in Middle Hittite

Melchert 2003

Miller 2004 Neu 1996

Otten–Souček 1969 Pecchioli Daddi 2001

Popko 2003 Rieken 2000

Rieken 2006 Rost 1956 Schuster 1974 Sideltsev 2002

Soysal 2004 Starke 1981 Torri 2003 Süel–Soysal 2007

Watkins 1995 Wegner 2000

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atolian. Brogyanyi, B. (ed.). Studies in Diachronic, Synchronic, and Typological Linguistics. Festschrift for Oswald Szemerényi on the Occasion of his 65th Birthday. Amsterdam. Pp. 467–487. Melchert, H. C. Hittite antaka- ‘loins’ and an Overlooked Myth about Fire. Beckman, G. et al. (eds.). Hittite Studies in Honor of Harry A. Hoffner Jr. on the Occasion of His 65th Birthday. Winona Lake. Pp. 281–287. Miller, J. L. Studies in the Origins, Development and Interpretation of the Kuzzuwatna Rituals (StBoT 46). Wiesbaden. Neu, E. Das hurritische Epos der Freilassung, I. Untersuchungen zu einem hurritisch-hethitischen Textensemble aus Ḫattuša (StBoT 32). Wiesbaden. Otten, H.; Souček, V. Ein althethitisches Ritual für das Königspaar (StBoT 8). Wiesbaden. Pecchioli Daddi, F. A Song of Release from Hattic Tradition. Wilhelm, G. (Hrsg.). Akten des IV. Internationalen Kongresses für Hethitologie. Würzburg, 4.–8. Oktober 1999 (StBoT 45). Wiesbaden. Pp. 552–560. Popko, M. Das hethitische Ritual CTH 447. Warszawa. Rieken, E. Die Partikeln -a, -ja, -ma im Althehtitischen und das Akkadogramm Ù. Ofitsch, M.; Zinko, Ch. (eds.). 125 Jahre Indogermanistik in Graz. Graz. Rieken, E. Zum hethitisch-luwischen Sprachkontakt in historischer Zeit. AoF 33:271–285. Rost, L. Die ausserhalb von Boğazköy gefundenen hethitischen Briefe. MIO 4:328–350. Schuster, H.-S. Die hattisch-hethitischen Bilinguen. I. Einleitung, Texte und Kommentar. Teil 1 (DMOA 17). Leiden. Sideltsev, A. Inverted Word Order in Middle Hittite. Shevoroshkin, V. V.; Sidwell, P. J. (eds.). Anatolian Languages (Association for the History of Language Studies in the Science & History of Language 6). Canberra. Pp. 137–188. Soysal, O. Hattischer Wortschatz in hethitischer Textüberlieferung (HdO I/74). Leiden–Boston. Starke, F. Zur Deutung der Arzawa-Briefstelle VBoT I, 25–27. ZA 71:221–231. Torri, G. La similitudine nella magia analogica ittita (Studia Asiana 2). Roma. Süel, A.; Soysal, O. The Hattian-Hittite Foundation Rituals from Ortaköy. I. Fragments to CTH 725 “Rituel Bilingue de Consécration d’un Temple.” Anatolica 33:1–22. Watkins, C. How to Kill a Dragon: Aspects of Indo-European Poetics. Oxford. Wegner, I. Einführung in die hurritische Sprache. Wiesbaden.

248 Wilhelm 1992

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Languages of the Ancient Near East Wilhelm, G. Hurritische Lexikographie und Grammatik: Die hurritisch-hethitische Bilingue aus Boğazköy. Or NS 61:122–141. Wilhelm, G. Die Könige von Ebla nach der hurritisch-hethitischen Serie “Freilassung.” AoF 24:277–293. Wilhelm, G. Akten des IV. Internationalen Kongresses für Hethitologie Würzburg, 4.–8. Oktober 1999 (StBoT 45). Wiesbaden.

Das Problem der phonetischen Interpretation der anlautenden scriptio plena im Keilschriftluwischen* Zsolt Simon Ungarische Akademie der Wissenschaften

1. Das Problem Das Grundproblem dieses Beitrags kann sehr einfach formuliert werden: was ist die sprachliche Realität der anlautenden sog. scriptio plena, d. h. der V1-V1K-Schreibung1 im Keilschriftluwischen? Da die keilschriftluwischen Texte von hethitischen Schreibern geschrieben worden sind, könnte man die Frage so beantworten, dass die in der hethitischen Rechtschreibung beobachteten Regeln auch hier gültig sind. Obwohl dieses rein theoretisch möglich, sogar, solange keine Gegenargumente zur Verfügung stehen, anzunehmen ist, braucht jede einzelne Sprache eine eigene Untersuchung. Dies ist besonders gültig im Falle des Keilschriftluwischen. Erstens, die Forschung ist nicht einig bezüglich dieser Frage im Hethitischen (für eine detaillierte Forschungsgeschichte mit weiterführender Literatur s. Kimball 1999:54–66, vgl. noch Kimball 1983; Melchert 1994:27–29): obwohl die anlautende scriptio plena laut der traditionellen Auffassung die Länge (und dadurch in vielen Fällen—aber nicht immer—den Akzent) bezeichnet, wurde aber unlängst auch die letzte theoretische Möglichkeit (vgl. Streck 2003–2005:138a) vorgeschlagen, nämlich, dass sie die Reihe des glottalen Verschlusslauts und eines Vokals bedeutet (Kloekhorst 2006:80–81; 2008:32–33). Zweitens, die Beleglage ist ganz anders wie die des Hethitischen, weil, dank dem Hieroglyphen-Luwischen, auch in einem anderen Schrift-

* Ich bedanke mich bei der Stiftung “Nyelvészet a Felsőoktatásban”, die meine Teilnahme finanziell unterstützt hat, bei Alwin Kloekhorst und Ilya S. Yakubovich, die mir die schriftliche Fassung ihrer Doktorarbeit zugänglich gemacht haben und bei Béla Stipich, für die sprachliche Korrektur dieses Beitrags. 1 Für eine genauere Bestimmung dieser Definition s. unten. In diesem Beitrag—der manchmal wacklige Fachliteratur entgegen—wird konsequenterweise nominal plena und adverbiell plene benutzt.

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system verfasste synchrone Belege zur Beurteilung phonologischer Fragen zur Verfügung stehen.2 Die Forschung wendet nicht zu viel Aufmerksamkeit dem Keilschriftluwischen in dieser Frage zu. Melchert (1994:27) hat die hethitische Lage mangels Gegenargumente auf diese Sprache ausgebreitet. Der oben erwähnte Aufsatz von Kloekhorst ließ die keilschriftluwische Beleglage einfach außer Acht (2006, bes. 95–96), obwohl sie in der scriptio plena-Debatte eben wegen dieser speziellen Beleglage ein wichtiges Argument, bzw. gegebenenfalls Gegenargument gewesen wäre. Um diese anlautende plena-Schreibung zu beurteilen, stehen also theoretisch zweierlei Quellen zur Verfügung: 1) synchrone Beweise; bzw. 2) diachrone, d. h. etymologische Beweise. Aus der Sicht der Argumentation hat offenbar die erste, d. h. die synchrone Gruppe der Belege stärkere Beweiskraft, ihr ist also Vorzug zu gewähren. Welche Art von synchronen Beweisen könnte im Falle des Keilschriftluwischen zur Verfügung stehen? 1) Umschreibungen aus anderen Sprachen (die, abgesehen von einigen Namen, leider nicht vorhanden sind); bzw. in andere Sprachen eingedrungene Lehnwörter (die, leider, wiederum nicht beitragen können, weil man bei den ins Hethitische eingedrungenen Wörter dem gleichen Problem gegenübersteht, und weil das obligatorische Epenthese des glottalischen Verschlusslauts bei vokalisch anlautenden Wörter im Semitischen die in der Korrespondenz der altassyrischen Kaufleute gegebenenfalls erhaltenen Wörter (vgl. neuestens Dercksen 2007) unbrauchbar macht). 2

Laut der traditionellen Auffassung bilden das Keilschriftluwische und das Hieroglyphen-Luwische zwei verschiedene Variante des Luwischen, s. neuestens Melchert 2003a:171–174. Yakubovich 2009:573 hat aber m. E. überzeugend bewiesen, dass die Schriftsysteme mit den Sprachvarianten ursprünglich nichts zu tun hatten, sondern es handelte sich um zumindest drei Dialekten (er nennt sie “Kizzuwatna Luvian” (keilschriftliche Texte), “Empire (oder Hattusa) Luvian” (keilschriftliche und hieroglyphische Texte) und dessen Nachfolger, das “Iron Age Luvian” (hieroglyphische Texte)). Man muss aber beachten, dass weder die traditionale Auffassung, noch diese Neugestaltung der luwischen Dialektologie die Methodologie dieses Beitrags betrifft, weil dieser Beitrag eine komparative Untersuchung der zwei Schriftsysteme bezüglich der Adaptation gewisser phonetischen Erscheinungen darstellt. Nichtsdestotrotz soll man theoretisch mit der Möglichkeit rechnen, dass diese Varianten, bzw. Mundarten in der hier untersuchten Frage phonologisch oder phonetisch unterschiedlich waren, besonders da es phonologische Unterschiede zwischen den luwischen Varianten tatsächlich gab (vgl. z. B. Melchert 2003a:171). Für diese Möglichkeit s. unten.

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2) Die hieroglyphen-luwischen Entsprechungen der betreffenden keilschriftluwischen Wörter. Obwohl das Hieroglyphen-Luwische die Länge nicht bezeichnet, bezeichnet jedoch die dritte Möglichkeit, den [!] in anlautender Position vor /]/ durch das Zeichen *19 (Kloekhorst 2004). Ähnliches ist aber leider für die Position vor /_/, bzw. /a/ nicht bekannt. Ob es einen Zusammenhang zwischen und der scriptio plena gibt, wird im Folgenden nachgegangen. 3) Die inneren Alternationen im Keilschriftluwischen, d. h. ob Wörter mit plene geschriebenen Vokalen sich mit Formen ohne plena-Schreibung in einem und gleichen Paradigma wechseln. Im Folgenden werden zuerst diese synchronen Beweise, und dann die etymologischen Belege untersucht. 2. Die hieroglyphen-luwischen Entsprechungen Um die hieroglyphen-luwischen Entsprechungen der anlautenden scriptio plena zu identifizieren, habe ich eine Tabelle mit allen mit plena anlautenden keilschriftluwischen Wörtern und mit ihren hieroglyphenluwischen Entsprechungen (falls bekannt) zusammengestellt. Die keilschriftluwischen Wörter stammen aus dem Standardwerk von Melchert 1993 (die folgenden Typen wurden ausgelassen: die weitergebildeten Wörter, Wörter unbekannter und unklarer Bedeutung, bzw. Lesung,3 Toponymie, Lall- und onomatopoetische Wörter,4 hurritische Lehnwörter5).

2.1. Keilschriftluwisch und Hieroglyphen-Luwisch keilschriftluwisch ā(ya)- ‘machen’ āhha ‘als’ āla/ī- ‘Meer’6 ānnan ‘unten, unter’

3

hieroglyphen-luwisch á(ia)- ‘ds.’ ? ? á-na-tara/i- ‘unter’7

āhšā- ‘’, āhhuwahuwā- ‘’, ālalatta- ‘’, āllatimanta ‘?’, āluwa- ‘?’, āmmamma/i- ‘?’, āmmaniya- ‘?’, ānna- ‘?’, ānnak[ ] ‘?’, ānnanā[ ] ‘?’, ānnunna/i‘’, āppuwani(i)- ‘’, ārrahhaniya- ‘?’, ārraš- ‘?’, ārrazza‘?’, ārlanuwa- ‘’, *Úārnit- ‘’, ārtattar ‘’, ārza- ‘?’; āššanišwant(i)- ‘?’, GIŠāštarala- ‘?’, āššūtti- ‘?’, āttani- ‘?’, ātti- ‘?’. 4 āhra- ‘Weh’, ānna/i- ‘Mutter’. 5 (DUG) āhrušhit- ‘Weihrauch’; āpit- ‘Opfergrube’. 6 Bei der Angabe der Bedeutung folge ich Starke 1990:3741346. 7 KULULU-Bleistreifen 1, § 4, 15. Eintrag, 1. Element (Hawkins 2000:512).

252

Languages of the Ancient Near East keilschriftluwisch ānnara/ī- ‘kräftig, männlich’ ānni(ya)- ‘machen’ ānta ‘in’ ānza(š) ‘wir, uns’ āpā-11 ‘er, jener’ āppa ‘zurück, wieder’, āppan ‘hinten, hinter’ āra/ī- ‘Zeit’ ārray(a)- ‘lang’ ārši(ya)- ‘fließen’ āš-/aš- ‘sein’ āšš- ‘Mund’ āšhar/ašhan- ‘Blut’ āššiwant(i)- ‘arm’ NA4 āššu- ‘Pfeiler’ āz- /ad- ‘essen’ ādduwa- ‘böse, schlecht’

hieroglyphen-luwisch ?8 ? a-ta ‘ds.’9 á-zu-za ‘ds.’10 á-pa/i- ‘ds.’ á-pa-na ‘hinten’ á+ra/i- ‘Zeit, Alter’ LONGUS a+ra/i- ‘ds.’ ? á-sa- ‘ds.’ á-sa5-za- ‘sprechen’ á-sa-ha-na-ti-sa-za ‘Blutopfer’; “*350” á-sa-ha+ra/i-mi-sa ‘Opfer’ ? á-su- ‘Stein(monument) o. ä.’ á-ta-, á-za- ‘ds.’ á-tu-wa/i-ta4/5- ‘ds.’

Tabelle 1

Die hieroglyphen-luwischen Entsprechungen sind für vierzehn keilschriftluwische Wörter mit anlautendem [ā] bekannt. Aus diesen vierzehn 8

In Simon 2008 habe ich eine Lesung zax/zú für das viel diskutierte Zeichen *448 vorgeschlagen. Trifft diese Hypothese zu, könnte man hypothetisch eine Verknüpfung von ānnara/ī- ‘kräftig, männlich’ mit á-na+ra/i-sù-ha- ‘?’ (EMİRGAZİ § 37, Abl. Sg. Subst./Adj.; Hawkins 2000:123) mit der Bedeutung ‘Manneskraft’ vorschlagen. Eine solche Bedeutung würde in den Kontext passen: “wa/i-tu-’ CERVUS2.DEUS.*463-ti (DEUS)MONS.MENSA Á.FEMINA?.DEUS.*461 su-na-sa-ti á-na+ra/ i-sù-ha-ti PRAE hwi/a!-i(a)-tu” (Hawkins 1995:88–89), d. h. “Mögen der Gott Kurunta, der Gott des Tafelberges, der Gott X mit Fülle und Kraft vor ihm gehen!” Für weitere Diskussion s. Simon 2008:26, Anm. 18. 9 Es wird dreiundsechzig mal als a-ta, einmal als á-ta geschrieben (KARAHÖYÜK § 11 á-tá(-)i(a)-*515-ha ‘’), wobei aber weder die Segmentierung, noch die Interpretation klar ist, vgl. Kloekhorst 2004:31. 10 Zur Beweisführung des Lautwertes zu dieses viel diskutierten Zeichens s. jetzt Hawkins apud Herbordt 2005:297–298. Für eine alternative Lesung zax s. Yakubovich 2009:66–68. 11 Melchert 1993:20 bucht mit kurzem /a/ ein, aber auch er selbst zitiert den Beleg KUB 35, 103Vs. ii 12′ āpan (Sg. Akk. c.). Obwohl dieses Wort elfmal (vielleicht zwölf mal) mit /ă/ geschrieben wird, kann die Länge anders nicht erklärt werden (die scriptio plena kann ohne weiteres ausgelassen werden, s. unten). Kloekhorsts Emendation der sehr schön lesbaren Textstelle zu a-pa!-a!-an (2007: 230) ist völlig ad hoc (vgl. mit dem Photo in Mainzer Photoarchiv).

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Fällen entspricht dem plene geschriebenen [ā] ein zwölf mal und zweimal.12 Diese zwei Ausnahmen sind ānta- ‘in’ und ārray(a)- ‘lang’. Da den Lautwert [!(])] und den Lautwert []] hat, kann man diese Entsprechungen am einfachsten so erklären, dass die scriptio plena in den entsprechenden Fällen [!]], in den Ausnahmen [ā] bezeichnete. Eine andere, theoretische Möglichkeit wäre anzunehmen, dass alle plene geschriebene Vokale tatsächlich lang sind: in diesem Fall sollte man einen allgemeinen Schwund des anlautenden Laryngals und die Dehnung des anlautenden Vokals im Keilschriftluwischen gegenüber dem Hieroglyphen-Luwischen annehmen (und dies wäre dann die in Anm. 2. erwähnte Möglichkeit des dialektalen Unterschieds). Diese Annahme hätte aber Folgen, die diese Hypothese selbst widerlegen. Da alle diese Vokale auf uranatolische kurze Vokale zurückgehen (bis auf āra/ī- ‘Zeit’ < idg. *(h1)yéh1ro- ‘Zeit’ und āšš- ‘Mund’ < idg. *h1eh3-s‘Mund’, vgl. Tabelle 3. unten), braucht man diese Dehnung zu erklären. Der Schwund des Laryngals vor dem Vokal verursacht natürlich keine Dehnung, und weder eine allgemeine Dehnung der anlautenden Vokale könnte die Formen erläutern, weil es viele Formen gibt, die konsequent nicht plene geschrieben sind. Melchert 1994:261, 263–264 nimmt eine allgemeine luwische Dehnung der anlautenden betonten Vokale an, die aber die Formen, wo der Akzent auf einer anderen Silbe stand (āpā- ‘er, jener’ < *h1obhó-, und wahrscheinlich ā(ya)- und ānni(ya)-, beide aus der *-yé/ó- Klasse, vgl. später noch ī(ya)‘gehen’ < *h1i-yé/ó- ‘ds.’, Kloekhorst 2008:192, 180–181, 382, 380, vgl. unten) unerklärt lässt. Diese müssen also einen glottalen Verschlusslaut enthalten, und wenn diese Wörter diesen Laut aufbewahrt haben, dann sollte man den Schwund in den übrig gebliebenen Wörter durch Lautregeln ergreifen, das mir aber wegen vieler Widersprüche unmöglich zu sein scheint (z. B. Aufbewahrung in āpā- ‘er, jener’, aber Schwund in āppan; Aufbewahrung in ānni-, aber Schwund in ānnan). Deshalb muss man die Annahme, alle plene geschriebenen anlautenden Vokale seien lang, zurückweisen. 2.2. Eine Gegenprobe Es lohnt sich die Frage der Übereinstimmungen auch umgekehrt aufzuwerfen: was ist die keilschriftluwische Entsprechung des hieroglyphen-lu-

12

Falls mein Vorschlag über á-na+ra/i-sù-ha- zutrifft (Anm. 8.), vermehren sich die Entsprechungen zu fünfzehn.

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wischen ? Die folgende Tabelle enthält alle hieroglyphen-luwischen Wörter, die mit anlauten. Da die Liste von Kloekhorst 2004:29 leider unvollständig ist, wurde eine möglichst lückenlose Liste neu erstellt, anhand des Standardwerks von Hawkins 2000 (Eisenzeit), ergänzt mit den neu gefundenen und den spätbronzezeitlichen Inschriften (zum letzteren vgl. Hawkins 1995). Die oben genannten Typen wurden ausgelassen.13 Für die philologischen Notizen der in Tabelle 1. schon erwähnten Wörter s. dort. keilschriftluwisch ā(ya)- ‘machen’ ? ? ? ānnan ‘unten, unter’ ?15 ānza(š) ‘wir, uns’ āpā- ‘er, jener’ āppa ‘zurück, wieder’, āppan ‘hinten, hinter’ āra/ī- ‘Zeit’ āš-/aš- ‘sein’ ? āšš- ‘Mund’ āšhar/ašhan- ‘Blut’ NA4

āššu- ‘Pfeiler’ ? azzu(wa)- ‘Pferd (?)’ āz-/ad- ‘essen’

13

hieroglyphen-luwisch á(ia)- ‘ds.’ INFRA á-ka- ‘unterwerfen’14 á-ma/i- ‘mein’ á-mu ‘ich, mich, mir’ á-na-tara/i- ‘unter’ á-na+ra/i-sù-ha- ‘?’ á-zu-za ‘ds.’ á-pa/i- ‘ds.’ á-pa-na ‘hinten’ á+ra/i- ‘Zeit, Alter’ á-sa- ‘ds.’ (MENSA.)SOLIUM á-sa- ‘Sitz’ á-sa5-za- ‘sprechen’ á-sa-ha-na-ti-sa-za ‘Blutopfer’; “*350” á-sa-ha+ra/i-mi-sa ‘Opfer’ á-su- ‘Stein(monument) o. ä.’ EQUUS.ANIMAL á-sù/zú- ‘Pferd’16 á-ta-, á-za- ‘ds.’

Unklare Lesung: (“*91”)á-tu-ti- (hapax, ASSUR-Briefe d § 6, Hawkins 2000: 546); (*205)á-tu-ni- ‘?’ (ASSUR-Briefe a § 7 und f+g § 18, Hawkins 2000:543); áta5-mí-sa- (hapax, ASSUR-Briefe c § 3, Hawkins 2000:545); (“INFANS.NI”)á-ta5-la‘Bruder’ (problematische Lesung, KARKAMIS A15b § 16, Hawkins 2000:132); áta-ha-si- ‘?’ (hapax, Adj. Gen., SULTANHAN § 33, Hawkins 2000:470–471); áta4/5- ‘’ (vgl. Hawkins 2000:372 mit Belegen); á-ru-wa/i+ra/i-tu ‘?, sich verbeugen??’ (hapax, ŞIRZI § 3, vgl. Hawkins 2000:324 mit Lit.); á-na-ia ‘Mutter??’ (hapax, Dat. Sg., KULULU Bleistreifen 1, § 5, 60. Eintrag, 4. Element; Hawkins 2000:512); á-mu+ra/i- ‘?’ (vgl. Hawkins 2000:444 mit Belegen); á-la- ‘?’ (hapax, ERKİLET 2 § 1, Hawkins 2000:495). 14 Vgl. Rieken 2007, bes. 294 mit Anm. 2. 15 Vgl. aber Anm. 8. 16 Für eine alternative Lesung zax des Zeichens sù/zú s. Simon 2008.

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255

hieroglyphen-luwisch á-ta4/5-ma-za ‘Name’ VAS á-tara/i- ‘Person, Seele’ á-tu-wa/i-ta4/5- ‘ds.’ á-wa/i- ‘ds.’ LITUUS á-za- ‘lieben’ Tabelle 2

Die keilschriftluwischen Entsprechungen sind für vierzehn hieroglyphen-luwische Wörter bekannt. Aus diesen vierzehn Fällen entspricht dem ein plene geschriebenes zwölf mal,17 die zwei Ausnahmen sind die folgenden: 1) azzu(wa)- ‘?Pferd’: dieser Beleg ist eigentlich ein hapax (azzuwanza, Dat-Lok. Sg., KBo 13 260 II 24), und weder seine Bedeutung, noch die Lesung ist einwandfrei (vgl. mit der Kollationierung von Starke 1985: 2614: “vielleicht mit einem untergeschriebenem ZA gegen Edition”). Deshalb halte ich dieses Wort für kein schwerwiegendes Gegenargument, besonders, weil, wie bekannt, die scriptio plena ausbleiben kann: mit anderen Worten, eine Argumentation darf nicht auf das Fehlen der scriptio plena aufgebaut werden (vgl. Melchert 1994:27–29)—insbesondere, wenn nur ein einziger Beleg zur Verfügung steht.18 2) Einen ganz anderen Fall bietet die andere Ausnahme, awī- ‘kommen’, das konsequent ohne plena-Schreibung geschrieben worden ist. Obwohl, wie gesagt, keine Argumentation auf das Fehlen der scriptio plena aufgebaut werden darf, ist die Beleglage so konsequent (mehrere Dutzende Belege), dass man /ă/ annehmen muss. Damit haben wir ein zumindest hier unerklärbares Problem, das, aber zur Frage der Interpretation der anlautenden nicht-plena Schreibung gehört, die in nächstem Paragraph diskutiert wird. 3. Der Wechsel innerhalb der Paradigmen Ein Teil der keilschriftluwischen Wörter zeigt regelmäßigen Wechsel in der Schreibung, bzw. Auslassung der scriptio plena: Diese sind āš-/aš- ‘sein’ 17

Wenn meine Hypothese über den Zusammenhang von á-na+ra/i-sù-ha- mit ānnara/ī- zutrifft (s. Anm. 8.), sind dann fünfzehn Entsprechungen bekannt, davon dreizehn Gleichungen. 18 Wie bekannt, kann das Ausbleiben der scriptio plena durch verschiedene Gründe verursacht werden, und ist auch temporal nicht einheitlich, weil sie im junghethitischen Duktus öfters ausbleiben kann, wie in den älteren. Hier ist es zu erwähnen, dass die überwiegende Mehrzahl der keilschriftluwischen Texte im junghethitischen Duktus geschrieben worden sind, vgl. die Statistik von Starke 1985:21–31, bes. 29.

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Languages of the Ancient Near East

und āz-/ad- ‘essen’. Diese Wörter zeigen plena-Schreibung in Präs. Sg. 3. (āšti), aber keine plena-Schreibung in Imp. Pl. 3. (ašandu, adandu). Obwohl die Schriftform der gleichen hieroglyphen-luwischen Wörter solche Alternationen nicht zeigt (immer mit geschrieben), hat man diese mit den zwei Lautwerten des -Zeichens ([!a], bzw. [!]), und damit einen durch die Schrift verborgenen Ablaut plausibel erklärt (vgl. Kloekhorst 2004:41): dieser Ablaut ist weitgehend identisch mit dem der indogermanischen Formen (z. B. *h1es-/*h1s- ‘sein’ > āš-/aš-). D. h., auch der innerparadigmatische Wechsel unterstützt sowohl in synchronem, als auch in diachronem Sinn die Interpretation der scriptio plena als glottaler Verschlusslaut. Mit dieser Interpretation gelangt man aber im Fall der Pluralformen zu gleichem Problem wie oben, bei awi-, nämlich nicht-plena Schreibung im Keilschriftluwischen, aber im Hieroglyphen-Luwischen. Man kann theoretisch wiederum annehmen, dass diese Erscheinung einen dialektalen Unterschied zwischen diesen Sprachvarianten bildet. Dieses wird aber nicht nur durch die Neugestaltung der luwischen Dialektologie (vgl. Anm. 2), sondern auch durch die Konsequenz der Schreibung innerhalb der keilschriftluwischen Texte widerlegt. Man muss deshalb innersprachliche Ursachen suchen. Einen solchen Unterschied könnte verursachen, falls das Hieroglyphen-Luwische (bzw. dessen muttersprachliche Schreiber) den Anlaut phonologisch (d. h. /!C/), das Keilschriftluwische (bzw. dessen mutmaßlich hethitische Schreiber) dagegen phonetisch wiedergegeben hätte (d. h. [xC], wo den unbekannten Reflex des glottalen Verschlusslauts bezeichnet). Die Reihe /!C/ konnte entweder durch einen Stützvokal [!xC] oder durch die Vokalisation [xC] des glottalen Verschlusslauts aufgelöst werden. Da der [!] im ersteren Fall aufbewahrt worden wäre, hätte er laut den obigen Ergebnissen durch scriptio plena kennzeichnet werden müssen, so bleibt die Vokalisation als Lösung. Der Lautwert des Vokals musste wegen der konsequenten Schreibung [a] sein (wenn es tatsächlich [3]/[ɐ] oder ähnlicher anaptyktischer, d. h. ein vom [a] phonetisch unterschiedlicher Vokal gewesen wäre, wie der das gleiche Problem im Hethitischen phonologisch gesehen genauso interpretierende Kloekhorst 2008:27–28 annimmt, würde man eine schwankende Schreibung o. ä. erwarten, die aber in diesem Fall nie erscheint).19 19 Dies ist natürlich nur ein Teil der größeren Problematik der mit *aT anlautenden schwachen Stämme, die hier ausführlicher leider nicht erörtert werden kann (vgl. Melchert 1994:66–67).

Zs. Simon, Scriptio plena im Keilschriftluwischen…

257

Um die Ergebnisse der synchronen Untersuchungen zusammenzufassen, kann man feststellen, dass die anlautende scriptio plena zwei Funktionen hatte, sowohl die Reihe von [!]], als auch das Phonem [ā] zu bezeichnen. 4. Etymologische Beweise Zur Erklärung der anlautenden scriptio plena kann auch die Etymologie wertvolle Hinweise bieten, wobei aber zu betonen ist, dass die etymologische Herleitungen, seien sie ganz einwandfrei, nur Hypothesen sind, die fortlaufend verbessert werden, deshalb verfügen sie nur über einen begrenzten Stellenwert bei der Bestimmung von Lautwerten. Nach den Untersuchungen von Kloekhorst (2004) ist der [!] die hieroglyphen-luwische Fortsetzung des *h1 der indogermanischen Grundsprache. Deshalb würde man erwarten, dass die mit scriptio plena anlautenden keilschriftluwischen Wörter etymologisch mit *h1 angelautet sind. Die folgende Tabelle enthält die wahrscheinlichsten Etymologien der oben ausgewählten keilschriftluwischen Wörter. Zur Auswertung dieser Belege muss man aber zwei wichtige methodologische Anmerkungen vorausschicken, nämlich, dass zwei Gruppen der Belege nicht als positives Argument gewertet werden können. Erstens, diejenige Etymologie, wo die Annahme des *h1 nicht auf tochtersprachlichen Beweisen beruht, sondern auf der unbewiesenen Hypothese, dass alle indogermanische Wurzeln mit einem Konsonanten angelautet haben. Während der Rekonstruktion stellt sich in vielen Fällen heraus, dass eine gewisse idg. Wurzel vokalisch angelautet hat. In diesen Fall rekonstruieren die Anhänger dieser Hypothese im Anlaut ein *h1. Wir haben aber schon früher gesehen, dass das Hieroglyphen-Luwische, das dieses anlautende *h1 aufbewahrt hat (Kloekhorst 2004), auch Wurzeln indogermanischer Herkunft mit anlautendem Vokal kennt (z. B. a-ta ‘in’), mit anderen Worten, es müssen in der indogermanischen Grundsprache solche Wurzeln existiert haben, die vokalisch angelautet haben, weil keine Regel den Schwund des Laryngals in diesen hieroglyphen-luwischen Fällen erklären kann. Zweitens, man muss auch von denjenigen Etymologien als Argument absehen, wo die Annahme ausschließlich auf der hieroglyphenluwischen Form beruht, weil die Argumentation in jenem Fall zirkulär wäre. Legende: + = grundsprachliches *h1 nach nicht-anatolischen Beweisen; Ø = kein *h1 in der Grundsprache nach den tochtersprachlichen Beweisen; ! = *h1 nur wegen dem Hieroglyphen-Luwischen.

258

Languages of the Ancient Near East Die Tabelle unterscheidet die Rekonstrukte von den Transponaten nicht. Für die philologischen Problemen der gegebenen keilschrift-, bzw. hieroglyphen-luwischen Wörter s. die Bemerkungen zu den Tabellen No. 1. und 2.

keilschriftluwisch ā(ya)- ‘machen’ āhha ‘als, wenn’

hierogl.-luwisch á(ia)- ‘ds.’ k. B.

āla/ī- ‘Meer’ ānnan ‘unten, unter’ ānnara/i‘männlich, kräftig’

k. B. á-na-tara/i‘unterer’ ?

ānni(ya)- ‘machen’

k. B.

ānza(š) ‘wir, uns’

á-zu-za ‘ds.’

āpā- ‘er, sie, es, jener’ āppa ‘zurück, wieder’ āppan ‘hinten, hinter’

á-pa/i- ‘ds.’

āra/i- ‘Zeit’

á+ra/i- ‘Zeit, Alter’

á-pa-na ‘hinten, hinter’

indogermanisch / uranatolisch ? ?20 *h1om + *=h3e ! (Kloekhorst 2008:539) ? ? *énem (Melchert ! 1994:243, 247) *h1én-h2nor-o! ‘having virility inside’ (Melchert 1994:50) *h1énor- ‘?’ ?/!21 (Kloekhorst 2008: 387) uran. *h1n-yé/ó+ (Kloekhorst 2008: 180–181) *sme ‘uns’ (Katz ?22 1998:141–151) *h1obhó- (Kloekhorst ! 2008:192) uran. *h1op-o(m) ! (Kloekhorst 2008: 193–194)

*(h1)yéh1ro- ‘Zeit’ (Melchert 1994:75)

!/+23

20 Für eine überzeugende Kritik aller früheren Rekonstruktionen s. Kloekhorst 2008:382. Sein Vorschlag (*HH-yé/ó- > /!3ya-/) überzeugt mich nicht, weil keine außeranatolische Verknüpfung und nichts über die luwische Fortsetzung des angenommenen *HH-yé/ó- bekannt ist. 21 S. Anm. 8. 22 Anhand des hieroglyphen-luwischen Wortes sollte man die indogermanische Form als *h1sme ‘uns’ angeben. 23 Wegen des übereinstimmendes altgr. Wortes ὥρα hängt diese Frage mit der klassischen Problematik der zweifachen griechischen Vertretung des anlautenden *y zusammen. Falls idg. anlautendes *h1y im Griechischen tatsächlich als /h/ erscheint, kann man auch hier, unabhängig vom Hieroglyphen-Luwischen im An-

Zs. Simon, Scriptio plena im Keilschriftluwischen… keilschriftluwisch ārši(ya)- ‘fließen’

hierogl.-luwisch k. B.

āš-/aš- ‘sein’

á-sa- ‘ds.’

āšš- ‘Mund’

á-sa5-za- ‘sprechen’

āšhar/ašhan- ‘Blut’

á-sa-ha-na-ti-sa-za ‘Blutopfer’ “*350” á-sa-ha+ra/imi-sà ‘Opfer’ k. B. á-su‘Stein(monument) o. ä.’ á-ta-, á-za- ‘ds.’

āššiwant(i)- ‘arm’ āššu- ‘Pfeiler’

NA4

ad-/āz- ‘essen’ ādduwa- ‘böse, schlecht’

á-tu-wa/i-ta4/5- ‘ds.’

259

indogermanisch / uranatolisch *h1ers- ‘fließen’ + (LIV2 241) *h1es- ‘ds.’ (LIV2 + 241–242) *h1eh3-s- ‘Mund’ ! (Kloekhorst 2008: 166–167) *h1ésh2, Gen. ! *h1sh2éns ‘Blut’ (Kloekhorst 2008: 258–260) ?24 ? ?25 ?

*h1ed- ‘ds.’ (LIV2 230–231) *h1édwo- ‘ds.’ (Kloekhorst 2008: 421)

+ !/+26

Tabelle 3

In fünf Fällen kennt man das Etymon nicht, bzw. nicht genau genug, in sieben Fällen kann man nur anhand des Hieroglyphen-Luwischen ein *h1 annehmen (ein Wort kann zur beiden Gruppen gehören). Es bleiben aber drei sichere Fälle (ārši(ya)- ‘Fluss’, āš-/aš- ‘sein’, ad-/āz- ‘essen’) und zwei wahrscheinliche Fälle (āra/i- ‘Zeit’, ādduwa- ‘böse, schlecht’), wo man wegen der nicht-luwischen, d. h. unabhängigen Beleglage ein *h1 annehmen muss, mit anderen Worten, es stehen drei Fälle zur Verfügung, wo die anlautende scriptio plena ein *h1 fortsetzt.27

laut ein *h1 annehmen. Für eine kurze Darstellung mit weiterführender Lit. s. Meier-Brügger 2002:85–86. 24 Vgl. Kloekhorst 2008:221 (gegen die Rekonstruktion *ési- von Melchert 1994:63). 25 Laut Hawkins 2000:127 und Plöchl 2003:22 verwandt mit heth. NA4aku(dessen Bedeutung aber ‘Seemuschel’ ist, vgl. Hoffner 1978:245). Diese Hypothese ist aber sowohl lautlich, als auch philologisch unbefriedigend. Für detaillierte Kritik s. Simon 2008:23, Anm. 10. 26 Falls das indogermanische Wort aus *h1ed- ‘beißen > essen’ gebildet wurde, wie Watkins (1982:261) annimmt (und übernommen von Melchert 1984:106). 27 Theoretisch gehört auch ānni- hier, aber seine genaue Ableitung ist ganz unsicher.

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Languages of the Ancient Near East

Hier muss man noch zwei weitere Wörter erörtern, ārray(a)- ‘lang’ und ānta- ‘in’, über die oben vorgeschlagen wurde, dass sie tatsächlich mit langem Vokal anlauten. Leider ist die Beweiskraft der Etymologie in diesem Fall sehr gering: eine überzeugende Etymologie für ārray(a)‘lang’ ist zumindest mir nicht bekannt.28 Die genaue Herleitung von ānta‘in’ ist trotz der sicheren Wurzeletymologie (*(h1)endo) problematisch. Da ein Teil der verwandten Wörter auf Nullstufe zurückgehen müssen (altirisch and, lykisch ñde) und ein anderer sowohl Nullstufe, als auch Vollstufe fortsetzen kann (altlateinisch endo, altgriechisch ἔνδον), schlägt Kloekhorst 2008:185 eine indogermanische Form *h1ndo vor. Da aber die hieroglyphen-luwische Form kein hat, muss man *ndo annehmen, woraus alle tochtersprachliche Reflexe regelmäßig hergeleitet werden können.29 *ndo gibt lautgesetzlich vorluwisch *anda und weil sich alle luwische betonte anlautende Vokale verlängern (Melchert 1994:261, 263– 264, zum Sitz der Akzent hier vgl. die griechische Form), kann man feststellen, dass auch die Etymologie die Interpretation der plena-Schreibung in ānta- als Länge unterstützt. 5. Ein Test: plene geschriebene anlautende i und u-Vokale Die bisher vorgetragenen Ausführungen wären wahrscheinlicher, wenn eine ähnliche Erscheinung auch im Falle von anlautendem u, bzw. i nachgewiesen werden könnte. Das grundsätzliche Problem bei einer solchen Untersuchung ist, dass es ausschließlich etymologische Beweise, d. h. wesentlich schwächere Argumente zur Verfügung stehen, weil das Hieroglyphen-Luwische mehrere -s bzw. -s im Anlaut nicht unterscheidet. Die nach den oben genannten Regeln zusammengestellte Tabelle sieht folgendermaßen aus:30 28

Der vorsichtige Vorschlag von Kloekhorst 2004:43 ist mir wegen der ad hoc Annahme *h3r-ei-e/o- > a+ra/i- [#3r°] nicht überzeugend. 29 Einschließlich hethitisch anda (zum Lautlichen vgl. anzāš ‘uns’ < *nsós, Kloekhorst 2008:87). Kloekhorsts eigene Erklärung (2008:185), dass das Ausbleiben der plena-Schreibung durch die Akzentlosigkeit der Lokaladverbien in poetischen Texten verursacht wird, ist ad hoc, besonders weil der Schwund des auch von Kloekhorst angenommenen glottalen Verschlusslauts durch Akzentlosigkeit nicht erklärt werden kann. Kloekhorsts Erklärung zum Fehlen des (2004:43: eine uranatolische Dissimilation aus *!n!don) ist äußerst ad hoc und hängt von der unakzeptierten Interpretation der indogermanischen stimmhaften Konsonanten als präglottalisierten Konsonanten ab. 30 Quelle: Melchert 1993. Ausgelassen: īr(h)wa- ‘?’, Dītmari(ya)- ‘’, bzw. ūpnalla- ‘?’.

Zs. Simon, Scriptio plena im Keilschriftluwischen… keilschriftluwisch ī(ya)- ‘gehen’

hierogl.-luwisch i- ‘ds.’

īkkunā(i)- ‘salben (?)’ īlhā(i)- ‘waschen’

k. B. k. B.

īnzagan- ‘?’ īppatarri(ya)‘Besitz ergreifen’ īš(ša)ra/i- ‘Hand’

k. B. k. B.

ū- ‘trinken’ ū(n)z(a) ‘ihr, euch’

u- ‘ds.’ u-zu-za- ‘ds.’32

ūppa/i- ‘bringen’ ūtar ‘Wort, Rede’

(CAPERE)upa- ‘ds.’ k. B.

istra/i- ‘ds.’

indogerm. / uranatolisch *h1i-yé/ó- ‘ds.’ (Kloekhorst 2008:380) ? ? uran. *ēlh2ah2ye/o(Melchert 1994:80) ‘?’31 *h1ep- ‘erfassen’ (LIV2 237) *g̑hésr ‘ds.’ (Kloekhorst 2008:471–472) *h1egwh- ‘ds.’ (LIV2 231) *uswe ‘euch’ (Katz 1998: 141–151) ? *h2ow-h1p-(o)i-33 ? *wéth2/uth2en- 34

261

+ ? ? ? + Ø

+ Ø ?/+ ?/Ø

Tabelle 4

Leider sind viele Fälle unbekannt (drei), bzw. zumindest problematisch (zwei). Es gibt aber mindestens drei klare Fälle (zwei für und ein für : ī(ya)- ‘gehen’, īppatarri(ya)- ‘Besitz ergreifen’, ū- ‘trinken’), wo man wegen der nicht-anatolischen Belege ein *h1 annehmen muss, d. h., mit anderen Worten, dass die anlautende scriptio plena auch idg. *h1 fortsetzen kann. Wie oben, auch hier könnte die scriptio plena rein theoretisch langen Vokal bezeichnen, wenn man den Fall des anlautenden Laryngals und danach die Verlängerung des Vokals wegen des Akzents annimmt. Da aber die Etymologie von ī(ya)- ‘gehen’ eindeutig zeigt, dass der Vokal unbetont war, muss man hier (und analogisch auch in den zwei anderen Fällen) mit der Aufbewahrung des Laryngals rechnen, ganz wie oben.

31 Für Kritik der von Melchert (2003b) vorgeschlagener Bedeutung (‘in die Erde eingegrabenes Objekt’) und Rekonstruktion (*en dhg̑h&m) s. Kloekhorst 2008: 861–862. 32 Zum Zeichen vgl. Anm. 10. 33 Laut der traditionellen Auffassung (s. z. B. Melchert 1994:278), nach der dieses Verb mit heth. uppa-i/uppi- ‘(herbei)senden’ verwandt ist (für dessen Etymologie s. Kloekhorst 2008:921–922 und 909–910). Kloekhorst 2008:922 stellt aber in Frage die Bedeutung des keilschriftluwischen Wortes, da die angenommene Bedeutung laut ihm in die Textstellen nicht passt. 34 Für eine Kritik der früheren Vorschläge s. Kloekhorst 2008:932–933, dessen hier angegebenes Etymon aber zu der luwischen Form nicht passt.

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Languages of the Ancient Near East

Es ist aber gleichzeitig zu betonen, dass man zumindest zwei sichere Fälle kennt, wo die scriptio plena sicher kein *h1 fortsetzt (īš(ša)ra/i- ‘Hand’; ū(n)z(a) ‘ihr, euch’), d. h., dass man wieder auch darauf einen Beweis gefunden, dass die scriptio plena auch langen Vokal bezeichnet. 6. Die hyperplena Schreibung Während der bisherigen Untersuchungen wurde die Quantität des dem glottalen Verschlusslaut folgenden Vokals nicht klargemacht. Das hieroglyphen-luwische Schriftsystem ist für eine solche Unterscheidung nicht geeignet, da sowohl [!ă] als auch [!ā] als wiedergegeben worden wären. Es gibt aber im Keilschriftluwischen eine interessante und bisher unerklärte Erscheinung, die sog. hyperplena-Schreibung, deren Ähnlichkeit mit dieser Problematik kaum zu leugnen ist. Unter „anlautender scriptio hyperplena“ versteht man die V1-V1-K° und V1-V1-V1K Reihen (Melchert 1994:28–29; Kimball 1999:64). Diese Definition aber ist inkonsequent: niemand würde die anlautende Reihe V1-K° als scriptio plena auffassen, dann bedeutet aber die Reihe V1-V1-K° einfach die plene geschriebene Form der Reihe V1-K°.35 Deshalb muss man die Benennung „anlautende hyperplena Schreibung“ auf die V1-V1V1K Reihe beschränken (und die Reihe V1-V1-K° als einfache scriptio plena auffassen). Da aber die traditionelle Erklärung der anlautenden hyperplenaSchreibung als langer Vokal auf V1-V1-K° beruht (Melchert 1994:27–29, vgl. hier auch die Kritik der zweisilbischen Interpretation, vgl. noch Kimball 1999:64–65), muss man diese Frage erneut untersuchen. Dazu braucht man wieder alle Belege zusammenzustellen, die dieses zeigen. Weil, wie gesagt, die hieroglyphen-luwische Schrift aus dieser Sicht leider nicht weiterführend ist, kann man bei der Interpretation dieser Erscheinung ausschließlich auf die etymologischen Beweise stützen (innerparadigmatische Wechsel wurden bisher noch nicht beobachtet). Tabelle 5. enthält die auf die V1-V1-V1K Reihe beschränkten Belege— das Material ist aber schmal: es schließt nur Wörter mit anlautendem in sich:

35

Es ist wohlbekannt, dass die plena-Schreibung im Falle anlautender offenen Silben oft ausgelassen wird (vgl. Melchert 1994:28 mit Lit.). Daraus folgt aber nicht, dass diese V-K° Schreibung als plena aufgefassen werden soll, besonders weil diese Wörter—trotz der erwähnten Tendenz—manchmal auch plene geschrieben werden (Melchert, l. c.).

Zs. Simon, Scriptio plena im Keilschriftluwischen… keilschriftluwisch ānni(ya)- ‘machen’

hierogl.-luwisch k. B.

ānta ‘in’

a-ta ‘ds.’

āš-/aš- ‘sein’ āšš- ‘Mund’

á-sa- ‘ds.’ á-sa5-za- ‘sprechen’

263

indogermanisch/uranatolisch uran. *h1n-yé/ó- (Kloekhorst 2008:180–181) *h1ndo(n) ‘ds.’ (Kloekhorst 2008:185) *h1es- ‘ds.’ (LIV2 241–242) *h1eh3-s- ‘Mund’ (Kloekhorst 2008:166–167)

Tabelle 5

Es besteht aber ein wesentlicher Unterschied zwischen ānta ‘in’, āš-/aš‘sein’ einerseits und āšš- ‘Mund’ andererseits. Solange ānta und āš-/aš- neben mehreren Dutzenden einfacher plena-Schreibung nur einmal hyperplene geschrieben wurden (ähnliches gilt für ānni(ya)-), wird āšš- ‘Mund’ konsequent hyperplene geschrieben. Dieser Unterschied darf aber einerseits nicht überwertet werden, da āšš- syllabisch geschrieben bisher nur zweimal belegt ist. Dennoch, dieser Unterschied wird anders beleuchtet, falls man in Betracht zieht, dass āšš- (ānta und āš-/aš- entgegen) auf einen uranatolischen langen Vokal zurückgeht, der im Luwischen regelmäßig aufbewahrt wurde. So bildet āšš- ein einziges, jedoch sicheres Beispiel für die hyperplena-Schreibung für die Reihe [!ā]. Diese Lösung—anlautender glottaler Verschlusslaut und langer Vokal werden durch hyperplenaSchreibung wiedergegeben—ist auch aus der Sicht des Schriftsystem logisch: falls sowohl der anlautende glottale Verschlusslaut, als auch der anlautende lange Vokal durch die Verdoppelung des Vokalismus gekennzeichnet wird, kann der Fall, wo beide erscheinen, durch die Kombination der Verdoppelung zum Ausdruck gebracht werden. Man muss aber im Auge behalten, dass die Beleglage karg ist und diese Untersuchungen sich nur auf das Keilschriftluwische beziehen. 7. Fazit Laut der synchronen und der diachronen Beweise kann man über die Funktion der anlautenden scriptio plena im Keilschriftluwischen folgendes feststellen: keilschriftluwisch phonet. Werte hierog.-luwisch

[ă]

plena [ā] [!ă]

hyperplena [!ā]

Tabelle 6

Die scriptio plena bezeichnete einerseits den glottalen Verschlusslaut, andererseits den anlautenden langen Vokal. Mit anderen Worten, so-

264

Languages of the Ancient Near East

wohl die Hypothese über die Länge der früheren Forschung, als auch die Hypothese des glottalen Verschlusslauts von Kloekhorst sind zur gleichen Zeit gültig. Man braucht aber in jenem einzelnen Fall zu untersuchen, was die scriptio plena bedeutet: eine eindeutige Hilfe können die jeweiligen hieroglyphen-luwischen Entsprechungen bieten, aber auch die nicht-anatolischen Beweise für *h1 können die Frage entscheiden. In den anderen Fällen aber, mangels genügender Beweise, sollte man am vorsichtigsten die scriptio plena als Länge interpretieren. Zitierte Literatur Dercksen 2007 Hawkins 1995

Hawkins 2000 Herbordt 2005

Hoffner 1978

Katz 1998 Kimball 1983 Kimball 1999 Kloekhorst 2004

Kloekhorst 2006 Kloekhorst 2008 Meier-Brügger 2002

Melchert 1984

Dercksen, J. G. On Anatolian Loanwords in Akkadian Texts from Kültepe. ZA 97:26–46. Hawkins, J. D. The Hieroglyphic Inscription of the Sacred Pool Complex at Hattusa (SÜDBURG). With an Archaeological Introduction by Peter Neve (StBoT Bh 3). Wiesbaden. Hawkins, J. D. Corpus of Hieroglyphic Luwian Inscriptions. I. Inscriptions of the Iron Age. Berlin–New York. Herbordt, S. Die Prinzen- und Beamtensiegel der hethitischen Grossreichszeit auf Tonbullen aus dem Nişantepe-Archiv in Hattusa mit Kommentaren zu den Siegelinschriften und Hieroglyphen von J. D. Hawkins. Mainz am Rhein. Hoffner, H. A. Besprechnung von Friedrich, J.; Kammenhuber, A. Hethitisches Wörterbuch. I/1 (a–annari). Heidelberg, 1975. BiOr 35:242–246. Katz, J. T. Topics in Indo-European Personal Pronouns. Doktorarbeit. Harvard. Kimball, S. Hittite Plene Writing. Doktorarbeit. University of Pennsylvania. Kimball, S. Hittite Historical Phonology (IBS 95). Innsbruck. Kloekhorst, A. The Preservation of *h1 in Hieroglyphic Luwian. Two Separate a-Signs. Historische Sprachforschung 117:26–49. Kloekhorst, A. Initial Laryngeals in Anatolian. Historische Sprachforschung 119:77–108. Kloekhorst, A. Etymological Dictionary of the Hittite Inherited Lexicon. Leiden–Boston. Meier-Brügger, M. Indogermanische Sprachwissenschaft. Unter Mitarbeit von Matthias Fritz und Manfred Mayrhofer. Berlin–New York. Melchert, H. C. Studies in Hittite Historical Phonology (Ergänzungshefte zur ZVS 32). Göttingen.

Zs. Simon, Scriptio plena im Keilschriftluwischen… Melchert 1993 Melchert 1994 Melchert 2003a Melchert 2003b

Plöchl 2003 Rieken 2007

Simon 2008

Starke 1985 Starke 1990 Streck 2003–2005 Watkins 1982

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Melchert, H. C. Cuneiform Luvian Lexicon. Chapel Hill. Melchert, H. C. Anatolian Historical Phonology (LSIE 3). Amsterdam–Atlanta. Melchert, H. C. Language. Id. (Hrsg.). The Luwians (HdO 68). Leiden–Boston. Pp. 170–210. Melchert, H. C. PIE “thorn” in Cuneiform Luvian? JonesBley, K. et al. (Hrsg.). Proceedings of the 14th Annual UCLA Indo-European Conference. Los Angeles, November 8–9, 2002 (JIES Monographs 47). Los Angeles. Pp. 145–161. Plöchl, R. Einführung ins Hieroglyphen-Luwische (DBH 8). Dresden. Rieken, E. Lat. ēg-ī ‘führte’, iēc-ī ‘warf ’ und h.-luw. INFRA a-ka ‘unterwarf ’. Nussbaum, A. J. (Hrsg.). Verba Docenti. Studies in Historical and Indo-European Linguistics Presented to Jay H. Jasanoff by Students, Colleagues, and Friends. Ann Arbor–New York. Pp. 293–300. Simon, Zs. Towards an Interpretation of the Hieroglyphic Luwian Pair of Signs *109.*285 and the Phonetic Value of *448. Kadmos 47:20–30. Starke, F. Die keilschrift-luwischen Texte in Umschrift (StBoT 30). Wiesbaden. Starke, F. Untersuchung zur Stammbildung des keilschrift-luwischen Nomens (StBoT 31). Wiesbaden. Streck, M. P. Orthographie B. Akkadisch im II. und I. Jt. RlA 10:137–140. Watkins, C. Notes on the Plural Formations of the Hittite Neuter. Neu, E. (Hrsg.). Investigationes Philologicae et Comparativae. Gedenkschrift für Heinz Kronasser. Wiesbaden. Pp. 250–262. Yakubovich, I. Sociolinguistics of the Luvian Language. Leiden–Boston.

Die Wurzelstruktur im Semitischen Überlegungen zur Rekonstruktion des Wurzelvokals

Eulàlia Vernet i Pons Universität Barcelona

Einleitung Mit diesem Referat soll der Versuch unternommen werden, morphologisch und von einem historischen Standpunkt aus die nominale und verbale Wurzel des Semitischen zu definieren, und zwar speziell anhand der Zeugnisse der in der historischen Rekonstruktion verwendeten antiken Sprachen, im Besonderen Bibelhebräisch (Masoretisch), Aramäisch, Klassisches Arabisch, Akkadisch und Ge’ez.1 In Zusammenhang mit den Sprachfamilien im Allgemeinen, und im Besonderen was die semitischen Sprachen angeht, gründet die linguistische Darlegung der genetischen Verwandtschaft—welche eine rein historische Gegebenheit sein muß—nicht ausschließlich auf dem Vorhandensein gemeinsamer Merkmale in der Gruppe artverwandter Sprachen, sondern auf den für jede Sprache erstellten Entsprechungsgesetzen. Die erste Grundlage, nämlich das Vorhandensein gemeinsamer Merkmale, bestünde also in den Anhaltspunkten; die zweite, die der Gesetze der inneren Entsprechung, wären die schlagkräftigen Beweise. Nehmen die Sprachen im Laufe der Zeit auch eine andere Struktur an, können dennoch die für die Form dieser und jener zutreffenden regelmäßigen Merkmale ausfindig gemacht werden, wobei diese nicht willkürlich zu erklären sind, sondern einzig durch die historische Verwandt1

Im Zusammenhang mit der semitischen Wurzelstruktur im Allgemeinen ist die Bibliographie sehr weitläufig. In diesem Sinne, v. besonders F. W. M. Philippi (1875); B. Landsberger (1935); J. Cantineau (1950); K. Petráček (1954; 1955; 1974; 1982; 1985; 1987); J. Macdonald (1963–1965); A. Zaborski (1969; 1971; 1975; 1991; 1994); I. M. Diakonoff (1970; 1975); D. Cohen (1973:447ff.; 1978:88); P. Fronzaroli (1973); W. von Soden (1973); W. Eilers (1978:126; 1987); O. Rössler (1981); A. Loprieno (1984); R. M. Voigt (1988; 2001); H. Fleisch (1990:402); L. E. Edzard (1991); E. Lipiński (1991); G. M. Schramm (1991); G. Goldenberg (1994); J. Tropper (1995); G. Buccellati (1996:57–59); G. del Olmo Lete (1998; 2003; 2004), und B. Kienast (2001, § 50.2).

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schaft (Cohen 1973:431). Der endgültige Beweis der genetischen Verwandtschaft, und für viele Linguisten tatsächlich der einzig reelle Beweis (Hock 19912:567), besteht in der linguistischen Rekonstruktion der Urformen, von denen dann systematisch die jeweils bezeugten Formen abgeleitet werden können: hierin besteht das große Ziel der historischen Linguistik. 1. Die historische Rekonstruktion der semitischen Wurzel Im Unterschied zur Indoeuropäischen Sprachwissenschaft, in der die Wurzelrekonstruktion bereits 1935 mit der klassischen Studie Benveniste’s (19623:171)2 in befriedigender Weise zustandekam, ist das Wurzelproblem in der Semitistik, mangels eines festgelegten, anerkannten Rekonstruktionssystems und womöglich auch aufgrund des offenkundigen formell trikonsonantischen Erscheinungsbildes der semitischen Sprachen (v. del Olmo Lete 2003:7), noch immer nicht gelöst worden: es besteht keine communis opinio wenn es darum geht, die Wurzeln aus historischer Sicht formell zu rekonstruieren. Beim Theorisieren über die semitische Wurzel geben sich die Semitisten und Linguisten, wie wir im Nachhinein darlegen werden, als Vertreter eines der folgenden Denkansätze zu erkennen.3 Einerseits besteht die traditionelle Sichtweise der Semitisten welche die Wurzeln mit konsonantischem Skelett rekonstruieren, ohne jeglichen Wurzelvokal: dies entspricht der herkömmlichen Vorstellung der semitischen Wurzel, so wie sie von den Gelehrten jahrhundertelang verstanden wurde, von den mittelalterlichen Grammatikern bis hin zu den Semitisten des 19. und 20. Jahrhunderts, nützlich und pädagogisch zum Verständnis der internen Funktionsweise der semitischen Sprachen (dieser Standpunkt wurde von einer erheblichen Mehrheit von Semitisten eingenommen; in den letzten Jahren gehören, unter anderen, H. Fleisch (1990:402), G. Buccellati (1996:57–59), B. Kienast (2001, § 50.2) zu den Anhängern der konsonantischen Rekonstruktion). Andererseits haben wir die Sichtweise innovativerer Forscher, die in vergleichender und semitistischer Linguistik arbeiten, von denen viele die semitische und afroasiatische Wurzel als eine, zumindest in präsemitischer 2

Zur indoeuropäischen Wurzel im Vergleich mit der semitischen Wurzel, v. K. Ammer (1950–1952:198–199). 3 Ein exzellentes Forschungsstadium der Wurzelstruktur-Problematik im Semitischen von den Vierziger Jahren bis heute finden wir bei G. del Olmo Lete (2003:15–55).

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Epoche, überwiegend bikonsonantische Wurzel verstehen, erweitert um ein Wurzeldeterminativ, und mit einem Wurzelvokal als kennzeichnendem Vokal der Wurzel (namentlich W. von Soden (GAG § 50c), G. R. Castellino (1962:45), P. Fronzaroli (1963:126), J. Kuryłowicz (1972:43), K. Petráček (1982:384–385), G. Schramm (1991:1407), I. M. Diakonoff (1991–1992) und G. del Olmo Lete (2003:28–29)).4 2. Struktur der nominalen und verbalen Wurzel im Semitischen Bei gründlicher Vergegenwärtigung dieser historischen Perspektive der Sprache sowie der linguistischen Rekonstruktion der ursprünglichen Wurzeln, werde ich im Folgenden eine Beschreibung der semitischen Wurzel vornehmen.5 Die Struktur der semitischen Wurzel an sich, der nominalen wie auch der verbalen, sowie das klare Vorhandensein von Gesetzmäßigkeiten in der Unvereinbarkeit bestimmter Konsonanten,6 ver4

Wie können diese beiden Tendenzen nun miteinander vereinbart werden? Die Antwort ist schlicht und bezieht sich auf den Bereich der Synchronie und der Diachronie. Daher können wir uns dem Argument von Prof. Gregorio del Olmo anschließen, der in seiner Studie (2003:28–30) zwei Anwendungsebenen des Konzepts von Wurzel unterscheidet. Die erste Ebene, nämlich die funktionelle, ist diejenige die auf die synchronische oder morphologische Analyse Bezug nimmt; auf dieser Ebene ist die Wurzel als abstraktes diskontinuierliches Morphem zu verstehen. Die zweite postulierte Ebene ist die generative oder diachronische Ebene, wie sie den ursprünglichen oder etymologischen Formen eigen ist, die sich durch einen Wurzelvokal als integratives Morphem der Wurzel auszeichnen. Die semitische Wurzel (das lexikalische Ur-Morphem) ist also Professor G. del Olmo zufolge eine linguistisch-historische Realität von komplexem phonologischen Aufbau (2003:30), “symphonisch” (Konsonant + Vocal) und mit einem präzisen semantischen Wert. 5 In der Tendenz zum konsonantischen Triradikalismus der (verbalen) semitischen Wurzel wurde eine für diese Familie typische Eigenschaft gesehen. Hinsichtlich der Beschreibung der nominalen und verbalen Wurzel des Protosemitischen jedoch gehen die Forschermeinungen auseinander, und es gibt nach wie vor ungelöste Fragen, so etwa zum Triradikalismus oder Biradikalismus der Wurzel, oder welche Rolle die Vokale in der historischen Rekonstruktion spielen. 6 Die semitischen Sprachen lassen gewisse strukturelle Unvereinbarkeiten erkennen, was die mögliche Kombinationsvielfalt trikonsonantischer Wurzeln einschränkt. In den semitischen Sprachen können sich zwei identische Konsonanten, oder zwei Konsonanten mit dem gleichen Artikulationspunkt, nicht in erster und zweiter Position befinden; ebenfalls selten sind sie in der ersten und dritten Position anzutreffen. In zweiter und dritter Position kommen identische Konsonanten häufig vor, aber keine Konsonanten mit ähnlicher Artikulationsbasis. Die Ausnahmen dieser Unvereinbarkeiten semitischer Wurzeln bilden die Verben se-

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anlassen uns zur Definition der semitischen Wurzel als komplette phonetische Entität, nicht etwa motiviert durch einen produktiven oder lebendigen Herleitungsprozeß, sondern als morphologische und abstrakte Basis der Herleitung, das heißt als denjenigen Teil des Wortes von dem aus alle historisch bezeugten Formen der semitischen Sprachen mittels der erstellten internen Gesetze hergeleitet und erklärt werden. Diese Wurzel ist eine reine analytische Abstraktion, da es in keiner geschichtlichen Periode möglich ist (v. Cohen 1973:448), sie tatsächlich zu finden. Angesichts dieses Umstandes glauben wir, daß die einfachste Struktur der semitischen Wurzel7 den Parametern einer monosyllabischen Wurzel entsprechen dürfte; diese ist bikonsonantisch und, wenn man so will, trilitteral, da in unserer Beschreibung die Vokale mit einbezogen werden (dies ist die grundlegende Struktur vieler nomina primitiva).8 cundae geminatae. Die Biographie zum Thema der Unvereinbarkeiten von Wurzeln ist sehr weitläufig. Die wissenschaftliche Untersuchung dieses Themas wurde mit dem mittlerweile klassischen Artikel von J. Greenberg (1950) eingeleitet. Was die Unvereinbarkeit von Wurzeln im Hebräischen angeht, cf. A.-Z. Aešcoly (1937–1940), K. Koskinen (1964), M. Weitzman (1987) und Y. Tobin (1990). Hinsichtlich des Semitischen im Allgemeinen, cf. G. Herdan (1962), R. M. Voigt (1981) und A. Zaborski (1994; 1996). Bezüglich des Ägyptischen, cf. G. Roquet (1973) und R. M. Voigt (1999:366). Die indoeuropäischen Sprachen lassen ebenfalls klar eine Unvereinbarkeit der Radikale erkennen, was sie typologisch mit den semitischen vergleichbar macht. In diesem Sinne, cf. Kuryłowicz (1935:121) und Ammer (1950–1952:211–212). 7 V. in diesem Sinne die von Prof. Voigt (1988:15) vertretene Auffassung von Wurzel, die der unseren tatsächlich sehr nahe kommt: “Nach den bisherigen Ausführungen dürfte klar geworden sein, worin die hier vertretene Wurzelkonzeption besteht. Sie läßt sich in zwei Sätzen wiedergeben: a) Jede Wurzel besteht aus drei Radikalen; b) Ein Radikal ist entweder ein Konsonant oder ein Vokal (d. i. natürlich ein Kurzkonsonant bzw. ein Kurzvokal). Nur der offene Vokal kann nicht Radikal einer Wurzel sein, weil er nicht in silbeneröffnender Position stehen kann. Es gilt also: R (Radikal) =K (z. B. KTB, QTL, CWR, ŠDD) oder V (z. B. QUM, RMI, CDU, ULD)—außer A. Es wäre sinnvoll, bei den Verba primae, mediae und tertiae vocalis von ‘vornvocaligen’, ‘mittelvocaligen’ und ‘hintenvocaligen Wurzeln’ zu sprechen. Gerade die Vertreter biradikalistischer Theorien stellen die infirmen Verbaltypen gerne in dieser Weise dar—als ob der vokalische Charakter eines Radikals ein Hinweis auf seine spätere Hinzufügung sei”. 8 Was den Monosyllabismus der indoeuropäischen Wurzel betrifft, hat man diese seit den Studien von Benveniste (1935) als monosyllabisch angesehen, sowie trilitteral (der Wurzelvokal zählt ebenfalls), bikonsonantisch (Kons. + Voc. + Kons.) und empfänglich für Wurzelerweiterungen in Form eines Suffixes (dritte Position) oder, in Sekundärformationen, eines vierten oder fünften Elements der Wurzel. V. in diesem Sinne Benveniste (1962:171), “On a vu que le dissylabisme

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Der Auftakt und die Coda dieser Silbe müssen also von einem Konsonanten oder Semikonsonanten gebildet werden. Als Silbengipfel der Wurzel sollte ein kurzer Vokal9 bzw. ein Semivokal oder ein syllabischer Sonant (liquid oder nasal) rekonstruiert werden.10 Wir glauben, daß die Etablierung des Trikonsonantismus in den semitischen Wurzeln während der protosemitischen Etappe stattfand, dank der produktiven Funktion der verbalen Apophonie und der nominal deverbalen Apophonie und aufgrund der daraus folgenden syllabischen Restrukturierung der Wurzel. Interessant ist daß in historischer Zeit verschiedene Spuren erhalten geblieben sind, die auf ein bikonsonantisches Stadium der Wurzel verweisen könnten. So konnte die Wurzelerweiterung aufgrund verschiedener Vorgänge stattfinden, wie etwa der Wurzelverdoppelung (Verben pll, Verben plpl > ppl, etc.), oder durch das konsonantische Verhalten der Semivokale y und w der verba mediae infirmae sowie der verba teriae infirmae des Semitischen bzw. durch die Affigierung eines Wurzeldeterminativs, dessen morphologische Realität, bei unbekannter Bedeutung, dennoch klar ersichtlich ist.11 apparent de certaines racines indique simplement un état suffixé. Mais la racine, monosyllabique, est en même temps trilitère. Cette définition doit être entendue littéralement et phonétiquement, et non pas au sens où les sémitistes l’emploient pour caractériser seulement le schème consonantique de la racine. En conséquence, sont exclues: les racines à voyelle longue ou autre que e (o); les racines à initiale ou finale vocalique; les racines à consonnes pareilles (pep-, mem-, etc.); les racines à sourde et sonore aspirée”. Zur Rolle der Phonetik in der indoeuropäischen Wurzel, v. Ammer 1950–1952:199–200. 9 Ein weiterer Verteidiger der syllabischen Rekonstruktion der Wurzel ist Petráček (1954:592–593), der, unter Bezugnahme auf die vorausgegangenen Parallelen der indoeuropäischen Linguistk, diachronische Argumente heranzieht um für die vokalische Wurzelrekonstruktion zu bürgen (1982:384–385). Petráček zeigt in seinem Artikel (1982) die traditionellen Unterschiede auf, die zwischen den indoeuropäischen und semitischen Wurzeln gesehen wurden; in einem Versuch der Annäherung an beide Wurzeln, analysiert der Autor nacheinander (1982:384–386) die traditionellen Unterschiede von einem anderen Standpunkt aus und vereinigt sie. 10 Zur Möglichkeit der Rekonstruktion als Silbengipfel der syllabischen Liquide und Nasale, v. Blake 1911:217–222, im Besonderen S. 217. V. ebenfalls in Zusammenhang mit diesem Thema Petráček 1987. 11 Die brugmannische Definition der Wurzeldeterminative findet sich im GAG 2.1.10f. (zitiert von Ammer 1950–1952:195, n. 8a), “Man versteht darunter Laute, Konsonanten oder Sonanten, die in einem Teil von etymologisch zusammengehörigen Wörtern hinter demjenigen Wortstück, das den nicht weiter im Vergleich mit

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Zum Thema der Wurzeldeterminative oder Wurzelerweiterungen möchten wir klar den Unterschied zwischen Wurzelsuffixen—also jenen Teilen des Wortes die durch einen produktiven und lebendigen Ableitungsprozeß motiviert sind und sich durch eine klare und produktive semantische Funktion auszeichnen12—und “Verlängerungen” der Wurzel (Wurzelerweiterungen) oder Wurzeldeterminativen—also jenes Element, das durch einen eben nicht produktiven, nicht lebendigen Ableitungsprozeß motiviert wurde, und das daher einer Bedeutung entbehrt, wenngleich es morphologisch durchaus nachzuweisen ist—hervorheben. Wenn also, in diesem Sinne, die Morphologie des Wurzeldeterminativs zwar eindeutig ist, trifft dies auf seine Bedeutung keineswegs zu (v. Ammer 1950–1952:213).13 Die Umwandlung der trikonsonantischen semitischen Wurzel in eine als Silbe verstandene Wurzel, wie sie Benveniste (19623:170) für das Indoeuropäische durchführte, wurde allgemein zurückgewiesen, vor allem aber auf dem Terrain der Semitistik und der Wurzelrekonstruktion. Diakonoff (1988; 1991–1992) jedoch hat in seinen Studien die Silbentheorie auf die semitische Wurzel angewandt und bedient sich der Doppelrolle anderen Wörtern analysierbaren Grundteil darstellt, auftreten und eine Bedeutsamkeit nach Art solcher Bedeutungen, wie sie an den hinter der Wurzel stehenden Formantien gewöhnlich zu beobachten sind, nicht erkennen lassen. Im übrigen denkt auch Brugmann weitgehend an ursprüngliche präsensbildende Formantien, die später auf den ganzen Verbalstamm übertragen wurden”. 12 Wie zum Beispiel die Suffixe -ān > -ōn > -ūn des Semitischen, welche Adjektive, Verbalsubstantive, Diminutive, Agensnomina und gebrochene Plurale bilden; oder etwa die Suffixe in -at, -ut, -it, welche abstrakte oder kollektive Nomina bilden. Alle diesen Suffixen fällt also im semantischen Feld der Wurzel eine konkrete Bedeutung zu. 13 Was nun die funktionelle Bedeutung dieser vielfältigen Wurzelerweiterungen anbelangt, so haben wir in der Einleitung festgestellt, daß wir sie von den Suffixen insofern scharf trennen wollen, als ihnen keine bestimmte semantische oder besser parasemantische Bedeutung zukommt. Wir können etwa hier das Beispiel der Wurzel *ghe-we ‘gießen’ anführen, die bekanntlich eine -d- Erweiterung in der lat. Form fu-n-do sowie got. giutan usw. aufweist. Bedeutungsmäßig decken sich die beiden Wurzeln vollkommen, im Lat. ist wahrscheinlich auch die Aktionsart noch durch das eingetretene n-Infix genauer präzisiert. Der Grund der Erweiterung scheint hier nicht im Semantischen zu liegen, sondern ich sehe ihn vielmehr im Formellen: Das Germanische—wie wohl auch das Lateinische— hatte in seiner Verbalstruktur sehr wenige Möglichkeiten, vokalisch auslautende Verba ohne Schaden an der Deutlichkeit durch spätere Lautgesetze zu flektieren. Durch die Erweiterung wurde diese Schwierigkeit beseitigt. Dieses Argument trifft wohl bei den meisten Erweiterungen dieser Art, also bei Verlängerungen der ersten Hochstufe, zu.

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der vokalischen und konsonantischen Sonanten auf dem theoretischen Feld der semitischen Wurzel: so können zwei scheinbar derart weit auseinanderliegende Wurzelkonzeptionen typologisch auf einen Nenner gebracht werden. 3. Die konsonantische Beschreibung der semitischen Wurzel Nachdem wir unsere historische Auffassung von Wurzel dargestellt haben, gehen wir nun zur Analyse der Beschreibung der semitischen Wurzel im Laufe der Forschungsgeschichte über. Wie bereits erwähnt, ist es in der traditionellen Semitistik weit verbreitet, die Wurzel trikonsonantisch zu rekonstruieren, ihr keine syllabische Struktur zu verleihen und, zumindest für die verbalen Wurzeln, keinerlei Wurzelvokal zu rekonstruieren. Die quantitative Vorherrschaft (Cohen 1973:435) von Konsonanten gegenüber Vokalen wurde als Offenbarung einer Funktionshierarchie angesehen. Von diesem Standpunkt aus interpretiert man die Konsonanten als lexischen Bedeutungsträger des Worts, während die Vokale rein grammatikalische Funktionen übernehmen: von daher rührt es daß die semitische Wurzel als diskontinuierliches Lexem angesehen wurde, mit einem Mangel an Vokalen und durch und durch konsonantisch (Fleisch 1990:402).14 Diese Meinung wird von Gelehrten vertreten, die auf die traditionell konsonantische Sichtweise der Wurzel setzen, die synchron als konsonantische, abstrakte Realität gilt, im von der traditionellen Semitistik auf sie angewandten Sinn.15

14

“Une racine sémitique n’est composée que de consonnes; le développement d’une racine ne peut donc être envisagé que sous l’angle: consonne. Le bilitère est devenu trilitère par l’adjonction de consonnes, comme on voit le trilitère devenir quadrilitère par l’adjonction de consonnes”. 15 Die terminologische Verschiedenheit ist auch auf diesem Feld präsent, was gelegentlich Verwirrung hervorruft. Manche Gelehrte unterscheiden zwischen Wurzel, als Ausdruck einer konsonantischen Identität, und Etymon, welches historisch gesehen einen Wurzelvokal mit eingeschlossen hätte. V. in diesem Sinne Goldenberg 1994:30, der dieses Problem auf eine Weise zu lösen versucht die sich auf die lexische Bedeutung der Termini auswirkt. Diese Meinung legt den terminologischen Unterschied nahe, der zwischen der indoeuropäischen und der semitischen Linguistik zum Tragen kommt: im Indoeuropäischen sind Wurzel (root) und Etymon (etymon) Synonyme, i. e., sie deuten stets auf die Urform des Wortes hin, während in Semitistik, aufgrund der formalen Eigenschaften dieser Sprachen, manche Gelehrte diesen terminologischen Unterschied etablieren wollten. Wir glauben, daß dieses konsonantische Skelett als konsonantische, sche-

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Wie man sieht, wurde die semitische Wurzel traditionell als konsonantisches Skelett des Lexems ohne jegliches grammatikalisches Morphem verstanden, derivativ oder flexional oder mit noch inmotiviertem Vokal, wie in den nomina primitiva. So heißt es etwa, die Wurzel von kåtab (‫)כָּתַ ב‬ (pf. act.), kotēb (‫( )כּ ֹתֵב‬ptc. act.), miktåb (‫‘ ) ִמכְתָּב‬Schriftstück’ werde aus den drei Konsonanten k-t-b gebildet. Dies bedeutet nichts anderes, als daß diese drei Konsonanten die all diesen Formen gemeinsamen Lautelemente sind, und nur sie, denn wie wir sehen konnten, haben die lexematischen Basen kåtab-, kotēb-, miktåb- keines der vokalischen Elemente gemeinsam. Eine solche Definition sollte allerdings keinerlei Implikation in den historischen oder morphogenetischen Bereich nach sich ziehen (v. Cohen 1978:88). Den synchronischen Hypothesen von Kuryłowicz (1961, § 20) zufolge muß unserer Meinung nach der Vokalismus in den verbalen Wurzeln des Semitischen für die Wurzelbildung grundlegend sein, auf synchronischer Ebene wie a fortiori auch auf der diachronischen, und zwar aufgrund der Bedeutung, die im Semitischen die Apophonie innehat. 4. Über die Bedeutung der Rekonstruktion des Wurzelvokals im Semitischen Der in den semitischen Sprachen verallgemeinerte Gebrauch der inneren vokalischen Flexion (Introflexion) stellt eine Eigenschaft dar, die typologisch bis ins Protosemitische zurückverfolgt werden kann (v. Petráček 1954:589);16 dieses Phänomen ist womöglich eine der klaren Evidenzen der Notwendigkeit der vokalischen Rekonstruktion in den semitischen Wurzeln, denn eben die Wurzelflektion ist es doch welche die Tatsache hervorhebt, daß jede Form ein Thema mit sich führt, das sich durch eine der Radikalen innewohnende vokalische Sequenz auszeichnet. In diesem Sinne, und nachfolgend werden wir darauf noch zurückkommen, sollte die Aberkennung eines Eigenwerts des thematischen Vokals diesem nicht rundweg jegliche Funktion absprechen. Es gibt Fälle, in matische und diskontuniierliche Abstraktion der Wurzel verstanden werden sollte. 16 “Unter einem Typ versteht man gewöhnlich einen Komplex von Zusammenhängen, die der Grammatik einer Sprache ein gewisses Gepräge geben. Diese Typen, oder typologischen Tendenzen, sind bekannt: es sind die Isolierung, die Agglutination, die Flexion, die Introflexion und die Polysynthesis. Manche Forscher kennen noch weitere. Davon ist den semitischen Sprachen die Introflexion eigen, die sich hier am stärksten durchsetzt”.

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denen die bloße Sequenz von Vokalen in einem bestimmten Schema das einzige Unterscheidungsmorphem ist, etwa in den gebrochenen Pluralen oder im apophonischen Verbalsystem selbst (v. Petráček 1954:593).17 Wenngleich der Ursprung der vokalischen Rekonstruktion des Protosemitischen in den Werken von Semitisten indoeuropäischer Schule, wie Cuny (1943; 1946), zu suchen sein sollte, gewinnt die Theorie der vokalischen Rekonstruktion von der Mitte des 20. Jahrhunderts an Auftrieb, vor allem durch die Arbeiten von G. R. Castellino (1962), P. Fronzaroli (1963), W. von Soden (GAG), A. M. Gazov-Ginzberg (1965:95), J. Kuryłowicz (1972), I. M. Diakonoff (1970; 1988; 1991–1992), D. Cohen (1978:89), K. Petráček (1982), G. Schramm (1991), E. Ullendorff (1958:69) und R. M. Voigt (1988:15).18 Das erstmalige Auftreten innerer vokalischer Flektion im Protosemitischen stellt die wichtigste Tatsache dar, die zum Verständnis der afroasiatischen Wurzel notwendig ist. Der Wurzelvokal—sehr wahrscheinlich a gemäß Diakonoff (1988:50), allerdings auch 3 bei Diakonoff (1991– 1992:99)—, der die Position des Silbengipfels der monosyllabischen Wurzel einnimmt, war im Afroasiatischen als Morphem von geringerer Bedeutung als die Konsonanten: dergestalt sollte das Auftreten der Apophonie zu verstehen sein, also zur Ersetzung dieses ursprünglichen Vokals. Nach dem Ursprung der Apophonie sollte in den konjugierten Verbformen des Afroasiatischen Ausschau gehalten werden, die auf dem äußerlichen Gegensatz “imperfektiv vs. perfektiv” (oder “durativ vs. punktuell”) basiert, sowie auf dem formellen Gegensatz zwischen “Langvokalismus vs. Kurzvokalismus”.

17

“Die Vokale dienen im System der semitischen Sprachen zum Unterscheiden der Bedeutung, begrifflich als auch grammatisch: kitāb ist etwas anderes als kātib, kataba etwas anderes als kutiba. Dasselbe gilt aber von den Konsonanten: µarb ist etwas anderes als harb, jaqtulu etwas anderes als taqtulu. Der Unterschied zwischen den Vokalen und Konsonanten ist vielmehr quantitativ und besteht im Grade der Ausnützung derselben im System der Sprache. Man weiß, daß der Wechsel des Vokalismus (die Introflexion) das das Semitische beherrschende Prinzip ist, wenn auch die Modifizierung durch konsonantische Elemente stattfindet. Man kann die Konsonanten und Vokale voneinander nicht trennen und isolieren, was eine der typologischen Eigenschaften des Semitischen ist. Es ist also unrichtig zu sagen, daß die Bedeutung nur an den Konsonanten haftet”. 18 Zur Rekonstruktion des Wurzelvokals in der indoeuropäischen Wurzel, v. Ammer 1950–1952:198.

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Somit befürworten wir also die Vokalisierung der ursprünglichen Wurzel,19 da in allen semitischen Sprachen, das heißt bis in die geschichtliche Zeit, die Vokalisierung der präfigierten Konjugation der Zustandsverben aufgrund der suffigierten Form vorhersehbar ist, was bei umgekehrten Verhältnissen für die Aktionsverben zutrifft (v. Kuryłowicz 1972:66, § 4); eine so deutliche morphologische Vorhersehbarkeit unterscheidet die Aktionsverben (agentiv-transitive wie yaqtu/ilu und qatala) klar von den Zustandsverben (yi/uqtalu), fientiven Verben (qatila) und stativen Verben (qatula) und scheint darauf hinzudeuten, daß die präfigierte Form sowie die des Imperativs der Aktionsverben tatsächlich den für das Thema charakteristischen, direkt vom Wurzelvokal hergeleiteten Vokal repräsentiert (v. Fronzaroli 1963:126).20 Angesichts des Forschungsstandes der internen Gesetze der semitischen Apophonie sind wir also fest von der Notwendigkeit überzeugt, die Wurzel vokalisch zu rekonstruieren (v. Kuryłowicz 1961, § 20; 1972:34), womit wir es als verfehlt ansehen, sie als konsonantisches Skelett zu verstehen: wenngleich der Basisvokal von R2 variabel und auf den ersten Blick sogar unvorhersagbar sein kann (cf. ar. qatala, qatila oder qatula), können wir uns anhand des phonetischen Kontexts—etwa das Vorhandensein von Laryngalen, die ein Timbre a in den Aktionsverben der präfigierten Konjugation erfordern würden—sowie der argumentellen Aufladung des Verbes (Stativität, Fientivität und Agentivität) wie auch seiner genetischen Eigenschaften (primäres, denominatives oder deverbales Verb) des thematischen Vokals der Basisform versichern.21

19

Als Anhänger der Vokalisierung der verbalen semitischen und akkadischen Wurzel gibt sich W. von Soden zu erkennen, eine der herausragenden Autoritäten in vergleichender Semitistik und in Assyrologie, der in seiner Akkadischen Grammatik ständig auf dieses Problem Bezug nimmt (GAG §§ 50c, 73c, 87a–d, 107b, etc.). 20 “Conseguenze per il nostro problema ha un’osservazione del Kuryłowicz sulla prevedibilità della vocalizzazione. In tutte le lingue semitiche (…) la vocalizzazione delle forme a prefissi dei verbi di stato è prevedibile data la forma a suffissi, e viceversa nei verbi d’azione. Questa prevedibilità morfologica separa nettamente i verbi d’azione da quelli di stato e sembra indicare che nei primi la forma a prefissi con vocale immotivata ha preceduto la forma a suffissi, mentre l’opposto è avvenuto nei secondi. (…) Al tempo stesso conferma che la vocale delle forme a prefissi e dell’imperativo dei verbi d’azione rappresenta veramente la vocale più antica del lessema”. 21 Zum Thema des apophonischen Vokals in der verbalen Wurzel, v. die Studien von J. Kuryłowicz (1961) und J. Aro (1964).

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Als einfacher gibt sich der in den abgeleiteten Konjugationen vorhandene Vokalismus zu erkennen, der dank der fest etablierten apophonischen Regeln des Semitischen vollständig ableitbar ist. Somit muß sich jeglicher Vokalismus grundlegender oder abgeleiteter verbaler Formen, bei deverbalen Nomen und bei Adjektiven, dank der apophonischen Umwandlungen rückwirkend, direkt oder indirekt, im grundlegenden thematischen Vokalismus reflektieren. Das Vorhandensein und die Etablierung der Apophonie im Verbalsystem des Semitischen legen den Gedanken nahe, daß die für das Semitische befriedigendste nachweisbare Beschreibung die Tatsache ist, daß sich die kontinuierlichen Grundlagen mittels des Apophonieprozesses von linealen Wurzeln herleiten (v. Schramm 1991:1403).22 In Anlehnung an die Vokalthese von Kuryłowicz (1961, § 20) bin ich der Meinung, daß, nach dem derzeitigen Beobachtungsstand der Apophonie, ein originärer Vokalismus der verbalen Wurzel rekonstruierbar sein muß, und daß diese Rekonstruktion äußerst wichtig ist, zumindest um in befriedigenderer Weise den problematischen Weg der protosemitischen und hamitosemitischen Rekonstruktion vorzuzeichnen. Wie bis hierher zu sehen ist, machen hauptsächlich Fragen der Nomenklatur und der Diachronie die Problematik der Wurzelrekonstruktion aus. Aufgrund der perfekten und realen Formalität der semitischen Wurzeln hat die Sichtweise der traditionellen Semitistik die Wurzel charakterisiert und sie von einem synchronischen und sequentiellen Gesichtspunkt aus definiert: es ist sehr deskriptiv, die Wurzel als konsonantisches Skelett zu verstehen, als einen Träger der Grundbedeutung, durchsetzt von Vokalen die, in apophonischer Weise, grammatisch und argumental die Bedeutung der konsonantischen Abstraktion nuancieren. Wir glauben, daß diese deskriptive Sicht lediglich auf beschreibender und synchronischer Ebene der historischen Sprache Gültigkeit haben kann, nicht aber im Bereich der Diachronie, des Komparativismus oder der Rekonstruktion angewandt werden sollte. Traditionell wurde den Vokalen gewöhnlich eine rein grammatikalische Rolle zugeschrieben, den Konsonanten hingegen eine lexische. Wenn es nun vor allem in der verbalen Wurzel auch legitim sein mag, 22

“Ultimately the derivation of the verb forms proceed from a root that generates a base from which the future stem is derived first, then to a secondary form that generates the past. In addition, it will also be seen that the phonological shapes of the stem are predictable if the vowel is an inherent component of the root”.

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die Vokale durch Einfügung den Konsonanten unterzuordnen, insofern als jene der potentiellen Bedeutungsfähigkeit der Konsonanten eine konkrete Bedeutung verleihen, stimmen wir keineswegs zu, den Vokalen eine rein “grammatische”, “ableitende” Fähigkeit zuzusprechen, übernehmen sie doch auch, vor allem im Fall der nominalen Wurzeln, eine “lexische” Rolle in einer bestimmten Sprache (v. Cohen 1973:437). Man hat bereits beobachtet, daß in der Funktionsweise der semitischen Sprachen die vokalischen Opositionen ganz allein die Gesamtheit der semantischen 23 Unterscheidung zwischen zwei Formen̬ übernehmen können, wie zum ̬ Beispiel (Cohen 1973:437) in arabisch gima:l ‘Kamelle’ : gama:l ‘Schönheit’; hebräisch "ereb (‫‘ )ע ֶֶרב‬Abenddämmerung’ : "ēreb (‫‘ )ע ֵֶרב‬Mischung’; µereb (‫)ח ֶֶרב‬ ‘Schwert’ : µo:reb (‫‘ )ח ֶֹרב‬Trockenheit’; amharisch mä£amiya, Instrumentalsubstantiv von ‘aus der Handfläche Korn, Zucker oder pulverförmige Nahrung zu sich nehmen’ : mä£omiya, Instrumentalsubstantiv von ‘stehen; Ort wo man stehend wartet’; ge’ez sämun ‘Woche’ : sämen ‘Norden’; tigrai sämay ‘Himmel’ : semuy ‘berühmt, namhaft’. 5. Schlußfolgerungen Als Fazit möchte ich schließlich hervorheben daß mir, auf diachronischer Ebene, und vor allem im Bereich des Protosemitischen, die rein konsonan23

Hinsichtlich der Funktion des Wurzelvokals im Indoeuropäischen und Semitischen, v. Ammer 1950–1952:198: “Denn wenn wir den Begriff der distinktiven Funktion hier zunächst nur für die Wurzel, d. i. für die materielle Bedeutung negiert haben, schließen wir damit nicht aus, daß der Vokal—oder auch die Vokale—eine Relationsbedeutung oder eine grammatisch-semantische Funktion beinhalten können, wie es ja im Ablaut weitgehend der Fall ist: die Oppositionen e : ò (o der Abtönung!) sowie e : ø (…) weisen im Idg. jederzeit parasemantische (für die Wortbildungs- und Beugungselemente) Funktionen auf. Im übrigen sei hier auf die semitischen Sprachen verwiesen, wo bekanntlich auch nur die Konsonanten die materiellsemantischen Faktoren darstellen, während der Vokalismus ausschließlich parasemantische Funktionen ausübt. Es ist aber gerade der qualitative Ablaut (Abtönung), der die distinktive Funktion der Vokale im Sinne der materiellen Bedeutungsunterscheidung in Frage stellt: dieser Ablaut existiert bekanntlich in voller Ausprägung nur bei e, während die von Hirt herangezogenen Fälle eines qualitativen Ablautes a : ò so dürftig sind, daß man eher geneigt wäre, die verhältnismäßig wenig zahlreichen Wurzeln mit angeblich ursprünglichen a als fremde Beimischung des Idg. anzusehen, worauf auch Specht in ganz anderem Zusammenhange hingewiesen hat. Für die Vokale i und u schließlich konnte nie ein qualitativer Ablaut nachgewiesen werden, so daß diese Vokale durchaus fremdartig der sonstigen Wurzelstruktur gegenüberstehen würden”.

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tische Rekonstruktion der Wurzel nicht angemessen erscheint. Die Tatsache, daß manche es schwierig gefunden haben mögen den Basisvokal der Wurzel zu rekonstruieren, zum Beispiel aufgrund des Vorhandenseins von Apophonie, ist kein hinreichender Grund für die Behauptung, dieser Vokal hätte nie existiert und müsse nicht rekonstruiert werden, sondern im Gegenteil: gerade die Präsenz der internen Vokalflektion weist uns auf die sichere Existenz des direkt vom Wurzelvokal abgeleiteten thematischen Vokalismus bei den verbalen Wurzeln hin; dieser Umstand rechtfertigt bereits die Rekonstruktion eines radikalen Protovokals, von dem aus sich in historischer Zeit die apophonischen Vokale abgeleitet hätten.24 Nicht zuletzt unter Zuhilfenahme eines Arguments von Diakonoff (1991–1992:99) sollte man zudem annehmen dürfen daß, wenn die verbalen Wurzeln bereits im Proto-Afroasiatischen auf ein Wurzel-Wort zurückgehen, und die Wörter stets von der syllabischen Struktur bestimmt werden, die Silbe einen Vokal zum Silbengipfel hätte, oder doch wenigstens einen syllabischen Sonanten, welcher einen kurzen, vollgradigen Vokal hervorbringen würde. Die Problematik der Rekonstruktion der semitischen Wurzel erscheint klarer, wenn wir uns die Konzepte des Strukturalismus, Synchronie und Diachronie, vor Augen halten. Hinsichtlich des Wurzelvokals stimmt es wohl, daß für das Semitische bestimmte Formen von inmotiviertem Vokalismus rekonstruiert werden können, und zwar im Falle der nomina primitiva. Wir glauben aber daß das Problem der Mehrdeutigkeit, das man zwischen der nominalen Wurzel (mit kontinuierlichen Morphemen) und der verbalen Wurzel (mit diskontinuierlichen Morphemen) in der Synchronie der Sprache ansiedeln wollte, innerhalb der linguistischen Diachronie mithilfe der vokalischen Rekonstruktion der verbalen Wurzel gelöst werden könnte:25 auf ähnliche Weise wie dies bereits im Indoeuropäischen geschehen ist, wurde ein ursprünglicher, grundlegender Monovokalismus für die verbale Wurzel im Protosemitischen von Gazov-Ginzberg (1965:95) vorgeschalgen, wie auch, auf dem Gebiet des Afroasiatischen, von Diakonoff (1988:50).

24 Das wegweisende Werk von J. Kuryłowicz (1961) befürwortet die sichere Rekonstruktion des Vokalismus der Wurzel. 25 In der strukturalistischen Grammatik des Babylonischen zeigt sich Buccellati (1996:57–56), und zwar veranlaßt durch den synchronischen und analytischen Ansatz seines Werks, ebenfalls als Vertreter der Sichtweise der semitischen Wurzel von einem traditionellen Gesichtspunkt aus: trikonsonantisch und bestehend aus diskontinuierlichen Morphemen, ohne Wurzelvokal.

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Aus historischer Sicht wollen wir die Zweckmäßigkeit der vokalischen Rekonstruktion der Wurzel rechtfertigen, als Träger eines inmotivierten Vokalismus im Falle der nomina primitiva, oder bereits in geschichtlicher Zeit mittels der produktiven Etablierung der Apophonie motiviert, dies im Falle der verbalen Wurzeln und der deverbalen Substantive. Hinsichtlich der verbalen Wurzeln haben wir nachdrücklich auf die Bedeutung der Rekonstruktion ihres Vokalismus hingewiesen, denn in bereits geschichtlicher Zeit leiten sich von diesem Wurzelvokal die thematischen Vokale her, welche alle eine morphologische Funktion aufweisen, aufgrund der Tatsache daß es sich um ein flexives Morphem handelt das Diathese anzeigt (im Akkadischen Agentivität oder Stativität; im Westsemitischen, Aktiv, Passiv und Stativität) und in einem frühen Stadium des Protosemitischen—da es sich in den historischen Sprachen schon nicht mehr um einen produktiven Prozeß handelt—sicher auch eine Aktionsart (Transitivität, Kausativität und Faktitivität in den transitiven Verben; Stativität und Fientivität in den Zustandsverben). Mittels der Beschreibung der semitischen Wurzel und der Bedeutung der Rekonstruktion ihres ursprünglichen Vokalismus haben wir versucht, ihre bedeutende Rolle hervorzuheben, um so der fälligen historischen Rekonstruktion der Wurzeln Genüge tun zu können. Bibliograhie Aešcoly 1937–1940 Ammer 1950–1952 Aro 1964 Benveniste 19623 Blake 1911 Brugmann–Delbrück 1893–1919

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Morgenländische Forschungen. Festschrift Heinrich L. Fleischer. Leipzig. Pp. 69–106. Roquet, G. Incompatibilités dans la racine en ancien égyptien. Göttinger Miszellen 6:108–117. Rössler, O. The Structure and Inflexion of the Verb in the Semito-Hamitic Languages. Arbeitman, Y.; Bomhard, A. (eds.). Bono homini donum: Essays in Historical Linguistics, in Memory of J. Alexander Kerns. Amsterdam. Pp. 679–748. Schramm, G. M. Semitic Morpheme Structure Typology. Kaye, A. S. (ed.). Semitic Studies in Honor of Wolf Leslau on the Occasion of His 85th Birthday. Wiesbaden. Pp. 1402– 1408. Tobin, Y. A Combinatory Phonology of the Hebrew Triconsonantal (CCC) Root System. La Linguistique 26:99–114. Tropper, J. Die semitische ‘Suffixkonjugation’ im Wandel. Dietrich, M.; Loretz, O. (eds.). Vom Alten Orient zum Alten Testament. Festschrift für Wolfram Freiherrn von Soden zum 85. Geburstag am 19. Juni 1993. Kevelaer–Neukirchen–Vluyn. Pp. 491–516. Ullendorff, E. What is a Semitic Language? A Problem of Linguistic Identification. Or 27:69–75. Voigt, R. M. Inkompatibilitäten und Diskrepanzen in der Sprache und das erste phonologische Inkompatibilitätsgesetz des Semitischen. WO 12:136–172. Voigt, R. M. Die infirmen Verbaltypen des Arabischen und das Biradikalismus-Problem. Stuttgart. Voigt, R. M. Ägyptosemitischer Sprachvergleich. Grunert, S.; Hafemann, I. (eds.). Textcorpus und Wörterbuch. Aspekte zur ägyptischen Lexikographie. Leiden–Boston–Köln. Pp. 345–366. Voigt, R. M. Semitische Verwandtschaftstermini. Zaborski, A. (ed.). New Data and New Methods in Afroasiatic Linguistics. Robert Hetzron in Memoriam. Wiesbaden. Pp. 205– 218. von Soden, W. Ein semitisches Wurzelwörterbuch: Probleme und Möglichkeiten. Or 42:142–148. Weitzman, M. Statistical Patterns in Hebrew and Arabic Roots. JRAS 15–22. Zaborski, A. Prefixes, Root-Determinatives and the Problem of Biconsonantal Roots in Semitic. FO 11:307–313. Zaborski, A. Biconsonantal Verbal Roots in Semitic. Prace Językoznawcze 35:51–96. Zaborski, A. Note on Biconsonantal and Triconsonantal Roots in Cushitic. FO 16:263–266. Zaborski, A. Biconsonantal Roots and Triconsonantal Root Variation in Semitic: Solutions and Prospects. Kaye,

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Languages of the Ancient Near East A. S. (ed.). Semitic Studies in Honor of Wolf Leslau on the Occasion of His 85th Birthday. Wiesbaden. Pp. 1675–1703. Zaborski, A. Exceptioneless Incompatibility Rules and Verbal Root Structure in Semitic. Goldenberg, G.; Raz, Sh. (eds.). Semitic and Cushitic Studies. Wiesbaden. Pp. 1–18. Zaborski, A. Some Alleged Exceptions to Incompatibility Rules in Arabic Verbal Roots. Zemánek, P. (ed.). Studies in Near Eastern Languages and Literatures. Memorial Volume for Karel Petráček. Prague. Pp. 631–658.

Early Lexical Lists Revisited Structures and Classification as a Mnemonic Device*

Klaus Wagensonner University of Vienna

§ 1. Introduction Besides the extraordinary rich data obtained from the “lexical” remains of the ancient Near East, the so-called lexical lists (henceforth LL)—preferably bi- or poly-lingual ones1—are the foundation of our modern-day dictionaries of Akkadian, and, to a certain degree, mirror and enlighten the cultural foundations and peculiarities of Mesopotamia by classifying and labeling the environment.2 Despite the high status this text genre has, it should be considered with respect and sometimes also scepticism. The latter holds true when we are dealing in particular with late lists, which were the end-product of a long canonization process and therefore produced a high number of misleading or, from our modern perspective, dubious entries.3 But to say it in * The study presented here is partly continued in a lecture held at the 54e

Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale in Würzburg on July 23rd, 2008. There, the author tried to compare the lexical lists with contemporaneous mundane texts. This issue is briefly introduced in the conclusive remarks of this paper. 1 It is disputable if we can consider the earliest mono-lingual lists as outputs of “lexicography” or regard them exclusively as “word-lists.” In Egyptology such word-lists were interpreted as “onomastica.” The discussion of this and other topics regarding classification and categorization is ongoing within the framework of the COST Action A-31 “Stability and Change of Classification Systems in a Cross-Cultural Perspective.” 2 Dietz Otto Edzard questions if these lists can be considered as “Kunstwerke,” works of art (2007). Although this approach regards later lexical lists, it also holds partly true for the lists under discussion; cf. infra §§ 3f. 3 For instance cf. the mātu-section of Nabnītu (SIG7.ALAN iv 52ff. = MSL 16, 79): KUR ma-a-tu4 KI MIN MA.DA MIN KALAM MIN KI.IN.GI MIN GU2 MIN KA.NAG MIN EME.SAL GI MIN (MUŠ3 MIN) IGI ma-a-tu4 MA MIN (MUŠ2 MIN) Just the entries in bold print are “genuine”; the others are partly derived from those. Numerous instances can also be gathered from late bilingual texts like the canonized Udug-¶ul-incantations.

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Languages of the Ancient Near East

Miguel Civil’s words, “the Sumerologist may fail to realize how lucky he is to have at his disposal an enormous wealth of ancient lexical material” (1982: 123). In this article it is the author’s intention to concentrate on the early monolingual evidences. Therefore I limit myself to the lexical data from Uruk IV and III and—where it is necessary in purpose of reconstruction—its ensuing tradition in ED I and IIIa/b. Although this time span seems long, the lexical tradition remains highly steady. This homogeneity of structure and sequence during those periods is strongly connected to the scribal education and therefore has a profound mnemonic character. The sequence of entries in a LL seems to work primarily with graphic issues linked in many cases to the sign shape.4 At first glance, this serialization could be interpreted as a kind of mnemonic help for apprentice scribes to become easily acquainted with the information contained in the lists and achieve the ability to manipulate early (cuneiform) writing. Although it is hitherto hardly provable, these arrangements seem to share some characteristics with the contemporaneous administrative documents. It is obvious from the evidence that these characteristics intrude into the economic records more than previously thought. Together with determinatives or classifiers to be discussed in § 5 they are an useful tool for a more elaborate recording of data, either lexical or administrative. § 2. Corpus Although an amount of approximately 700 tablets and fragments dealing with lexical information seems to weigh little in contrast to the huge corpus of about 5000 administrative documents found in the debris of Uruk, the information provided by that genre of textual inheritance makes it clear that the early writers were aware of the capabilities inherent in a script which was invented only a few centuries before the first secured attestations of LL in the Uruk IV and III-periods. In spite of sparsely found lists dating to the former period, the main progress of canonization was conducted—as far as we can date the texts—in the Uruk III-period. During that time, the differences between manuscripts 4

This principle was briefly quoted by Claus Wilcke: “Die ‘Listen’ waren in historischer Zeit hierarchisch nach Rang oder Größe des Bezeichneten, nach Assonanz oder Reinformen der Bezeichnungen, nach graphischer Identität oder Ähnlichkeit, wie auch aufgrund semantischer Nähe geordnet und nach unterschiedlichen Merkmalen aufgefächert” (2005:439).

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of the same list decrease considerably,5 which leads to the assumption that there must have been a central institution partly or fully responsible for the scribal education.6 § 3. Arrangement in theory A thorough investigation of the lists reveals the features of serialization and shows that the entries are arranged, not arbitrary. To keep this study within reasonable limits I will only point to some representative examples demonstrating the high level of knowledge organization which underlies the lists’ content.7 As far as our modern interpretation is true, all Urukean LL are “thematic” according to their content. This means that each list covers one or—in a few cases—several semantic fields. To a certain degree, this is also acknowledged for the Sumerian Word List C (former Tribute) providing a kind of practical and usable guide for the LL and simultaneously helping the apprentice scribe to convert the “theoretical” lexical entries to a more mundane usage as found in economic records.8 It is only this list which shows such a strong connection between the early lexicographic outputs on the one hand and the administrative documents on the other.9 An intriguing question is the arrangement of entries by means of hierarchy. In this paper I do not intend to neglect a hierarchical arrangement in the lists entirely. But, on basis of our still insufficient knowledge of the political, religious, and social stratification in Uruk at the end of 5

The LL Swine (former Dog) must be excluded from this process because both manuscripts dealing with designations of pigs do not share the same sequence (cf. Cavigneaux 2006:20ff.; Veldhuis 2006:186, n. 8). This list was obviously not dealt with in the lexical tradition of the 3rd millennium. The same holds true for other word-lists which were generally referred to as “vocabularies.” 6 Cf. inter alia Krispijn 1991–1992:13ff. and a forthcoming article by Hans J. Nissen. Jonathan Taylor studied the perception of the early lexical lists in the OB period following the different tablet types used in the scribal education. In his conclusive remarks he states that the “scribes were interested in the text [Standard Professions List and the other Archaic/Early Dynastic compositions] itself and display a good level of understanding of it, but they were interested also in the formatting of the text” (2008:208). 7 Cf. infra § 4 with a separate discussion of each of the main lexical lists found in Uruk. 8 This was persuasively demonstrated by Niek Veldhuis in his thorough analysis and interpretation of Sumerian Word List C (2006:193ff.). 9 We have also other archaic LL attesting natural numbers; cf. Archaic Food (/Grain).

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the 4th millennium it is almost impossible to make any conclusive remarks on this topic according to the lists. Anyway, some features should be discussed here cursorily: It is the well-known professions-list Lu2 A which forms the main example for a proper discussion of hierarchy in this early stage of lexicography. Starting with the title NAMEŠDA,10 it is noteworthy, anyway, that the constituent NAM2 ( )11 is only attested in the first entries of that list. But this alone is no implication for any hierarchical structure. Nevertheless, the Urukean lexical corpus provides us with a second list containing professions and/or titles called Officials.12 There, some of the entries mentioned in the first section of Lu2 A are listed again.13 Nonetheless, a rather important indication for a hierarchy is the fact that professions preceded by GALa (e. g. GALa UMUN2) are listed prior to those preceded by SANGAa (e. g. SANGAa UMUN2). This observation is based on different groups of entries sharing the same sign or sign-sequence. The following table gives an inventory of those arrangements. Although many titles have not been interpreted satisfactorily up to now,14 it is obvious that GALa—if there is any hierarchy intended—was an important function, perhaps of higher rank than SANGAa: Match

Sequence

Entries Lu2 A

SUKKAL

GALa SUKKAL, GADAa SUKKAL

GAa

GALa GAa, SIG2b GAa

ŠABa

GALa ŠABa, BUa ŠABa(, NAM2 ŠABa) (GALa KU3a, IDIGNA KU3a)

18–19 20–21 25–26(+26a) (28a–28b)

(KU3a) 10

It would go far beyond the scope of this paper to deal with this title appropriately, but cf. for a thorough discussion Lambert 1981:94ff. and Selz 1998:300f. 11 The signs are based on the CDLI-project (URL: http://cdli.ucla.edu/tools/ cdlifiles/archsignfiles_jpg.zip, accessed on October 19th, 2008). 12 A score transliteration of this list is found in Englund–Nissen 1993:86ff. and in the DCCLT-project (accessed on October 19th, 2008). For a thorough investigation of the list’s structure the Fāra-text SF 59 as well as MEE 3, 50 from Ebla are indispensable. 13 Despite its prominence in administrative records, the title EN is not mentioned in the professions list. Nonetheless, there are some entries incorporating this title/sign: Lu2 13 (ENa IBa), 63 (ENGIZ), 64 (ENDIB), 67 (ENKUM), 92 (ENa+NUNa UTULa). In Archaic Officials the situation is different: There, the sign is quoted in entries 14 (ENa+NUNa), 15 (ÚI ENa E2a NUNa), 16 (ENa I NUNa), 17 (ENa AMAR), 18 (ŠU2+ENa AN), 20 (ENa NUNa URI), 21 (ENa AN RU), 22 (ENa SAG) [, 31 (MENa ŠA3a AN)]. Interesting is Officials 18 (ŠU2+ENa AN) where ENa might be a phonetic complement for the reading EN2(ŠU2.AN). 14 Cf. several interpretations in Bauer et al. 1998 passim; Selz 1998:294ff.

K. Wagensonner, Early Lexical Lists Revisited… Match

Sequence

UMUN2

GALa UMUN2, ERIN UMUN2, SANGAa UMUN2

UMUN2 KU3a

GALa UMUN2 KU3a, ABa UMUN2 KU3a

IMa

GALa IMa, IMa TUR

ZATU737+DI, SANGAa ZATU737+DI

ZATU737+DI

GALa

SANGAa

GALa SANGAa, DUBa SANGAa

SAG

SAG SUG5, UB SAG

MEa

KAR2a MEa, GALGAa MEa

LAGARa

LAGARa IBa, LAGARa GAR

NIMGIR

GALa NIMGIR, SIG7 NIMGIR

EZENb

GALa EZENb, MUŠ3a EZENb, DU EZENb

GALa SUÚUR, SANGAa SUÚUR, APINa SUÚUR ZAGa

GALa ZAGa, NESAG2a ZAGa, BARA3 ZAGa, DILMUN ZAGa

DU6b

GALa DU6b, KURa DU6b, KISALb1 DU6b, KUb2 BA DU6b,

UTULa

GALa UTULa, ENa+NUNa UTULa, TARa UTULa

GURUŠDAa

GALa GURUŠDAa, SANGAa GURUŠDAa

UDUa AB2

[

TARa DU6b

] UDUa AB2, GALa UDUa AB2

289 Entries Lu2 A 29–31 32–33 35–36 40–41 47–48 49–50 54–5515 56–57 65–66 71–73 79–81 82–85 86–90 91–93 96–97 110–11216

Whether this evidence implies a hierarchic arrangement is not provable. But such similarities shown in the table above are conspicuous and possibly reveal a kind of hierarchy or at least taxonomy beneath the surface of the list and therefore give rise to that conclusion.17 Anyway, the sequence GALa → SANGAa is the best documented in the professions list. Many other titles are only attested once in that list and so they do not clarify the results. Another LL which should be mentioned at this place is Archaic Animals. This list is strictly organized in three major parts which are taxonomically related: The taxa are (1) Animals 1–26 consisting of entries with the sign AB2 ‘cow,’ (2) Animals 27–52 characterized by GU4 ‘ox,’ and finally (3) Animals 53–76+ mentioning different kinds of ‘calves’ (AMAR).18

15

Note that the ED successor OIP 99, 1 iii 18 reads NUN GA2+GAR ME. The Fāra-text SF 33 even has in iv 4 GA2+GAR ME NUN ME. 16 In OIP 99, 1 (reconstruction) we read SANGA AB2 UDU, LAGAR AB2 UDU, GAL LAGAR.gunû PA AB2 UDU (cf. the DCCLT-project). 17 Presumably only one broken instance—namely Lu2 110f. ([ ] UDUa AB2, GALa UDUa AB2)—testifies a title higher than GALa; cf. supra note 16. Margaret Green supposes that “the Sumerian bureaucracy of the early archaic period already had a departmentalized, hierarchical structure. This seems likely from the large number and variety of official titles which occur in the archaic administrative texts and which, by Uruk IV, were already collected in lexical lists” (1981:348). 18 Although the end of the list is broken, the last legible entry possibly mentions AM ‘wild ram,’ a sign which is graphically connected to AMAR. This fourth section is well attested in the ED manuscripts.

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At least in these two lists we cannot exclude hierarchy or taxonomy at all, but it presumably penetrates only the main structure of those lists. In looking at them in greater detail, there are other tools of arrangement recognizable. Due to the less-advanced schematization of signs during the Uruk IV and III-periods, the textual remains found in Uruk represent an appropriate basis for a thorough analysis of such techniques19. I will briefly discuss at the end of this paper that these methods are not only restricted to the lexical corpus but can be determined in a high amount of administrative documents as well. A thorough analysis and research in this field is still pending. As introduction, the graphic patterns observable in the LL should be discussed briefly. Considering the graphic shape of signs, sequences can be categorized as follows: 1. a group of entries shares one sign, 2. a group of entries shares a sign-sequence (consisting of two or more signs), 3. a group of entries shares a specific sign-combination (composed of two juxtaposed signs or by means of a frame-sign), 4. a group of entries shares the shape of a sign, 5. a group of entries shares a frame-sign, 6. a group of entries shares a sign-part, 7. a group of entries shares a sign-modification (gunû, tenû, and so on).

The chart below (fig. 1; all the figures are placed after the text) shall demonstrate these patterns by means of representative examples taken from the lexical corpus of the archaic layers of Uruk. All these patterns are well attested within the corpus of archaic (and Early Dynastic) LL. Although this study deals with comparisons based on graphic shapes, phonetic relations—unfortunately rather speculative—should not be omitted here entirely: – In the professions-list Lu2 A entries 14–18 except for entry 15 contain the sign GALa. It is very presumable that entry 15 (NUN ME) was incorporated in this sequence in virtue of the reading ABGAL.20

19

Unfortunately the preservation of several lists often depends on the amount of manuscripts found. So, whereas major parts of the (archaic) professions-list Lu2 A can be reconstructed satisfactorily, other lists like Plants are only partly accessible. Of great concern are the ED successors from Ur (ED I), Fāra and Abū Ôalābīkh (ED IIIa), and Ebla (ED IIIb); cf. the chart in Bauer et al. 1998:88f. 20 Cf. already Krebernik 2002:64; 2007:42f.

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– A second example is found in Archaic Vessels 23 (DUGb+KASKAL) and 24 (DUGb.gunû = KAŠb). Here too, a phonetic similarity is very likely because of the attested reading of the sign KASKAL. – In the same list we find entries 93f. (GI6 TUG2a(.gunû)) and 95f. (GI 21 TUG2a(.gunû)) where GI6 and GI might be related.

Before we look in greater detail at the structures attested in the LL, some more or less frozen or stereotypical sequences should not be neglected:22 – The sequence found in Archaic Wood 19 (GIŠ MA) and 20 (GIŠ ÚAŠÚUR) is well attested in the administrative corpus.23 Entry 18 (GIŠ DIN) can also be joined to this sequence.24 – In the same list we find a sequence consisting of the entries 13 (GIŠ LAMa), 14 (GIŠ LAM+KURa), and 15 (GIŠ KURa), which is more or less paralleled in Archaic Vessels 41 (DUGb+LAM+KURa), 42 (DUGb+LAMa), and 43 (DUGb+ KURa). – Further note entries Lu2 A 10 (NAM2 PAa RADa [ ]), 11 (ABa MEa [ ]), and 12 (GALa BAD+DIŠa [ ]) in comparison to Cities 9 (UR2 KU6a RADa), 10 (ŠIMa RADa), and 11 (AMAb MEa). In all these examples the sign ME is graphically recognizable.25 – In the professions list Lu2 A we also find entries 22 (GALa KISALb1) and 23 (GALa NIMa), which correlates to Officials 5 (KISALb1) and 6 (NIMb2). Whether this example should be omitted because of the similar contexts remains unsure.26 – Last but not least the sequence AB2—GU4—AMAR—AM should be quoted here. As mentioned above in the discussion of hierarchic or taxonomic arrangements, these four categories represent the main sections of Ar21

Cf. infra § 4.11. Unfortunately it is by no means provable, if the combination of vessels (DUG) and garments (TUG2) is caused by the similar phonetic representation, though both sections are separated by entries classified either with PU2 or GA’ARa1. Last but not least note Fish 27 (GIRa), 28 (KIN GIRa), and—probably phonetically connected—29 (GIR2a KU6a). 22 The following collection of examples is of course not exhaustive. 23 For instance cf. IM 74343 (CDLI-database, No. P004234; accessed on October 19th, 2008) dating to the Uruk IV-period where the sequence MA, ÚAŠÚUR, and MA+MA is attested. 24 Cf. IM 74276,1 (CDLI-database, No. P004169; accessed on October 19th, 2008) dating to the Uruk III-period where we find the whole sequence: ŠU2 DUGb+DIN, MA, and ÚAŠÚUR. 25 Cf. Swine 6 (MEa GARA2a+SILA3a ŠUBUR) and 7 (RAD.gunû ŠUBUR). The proximity of ME and RAD is also well attested in administrative documents; cf. the paper to be published in the proceedings of the 54e Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale (in preparation). 26 Cf. also Lu2 A 88 (KISALb1 DU6b) and 89 (KUb2 BA DU6b) where KUb2 can interpreted as graphically related to NIMa.

292

Languages of the Ancient Near East chaic Animals. The same sequence is found in two short sections of the LL (ED) Grain(/Food): (1) in entries 57–60 (su-la2 ab2/gu4/amar/am) and (2) 80–83 (adkinx(ŠEŠ2) ab2/gu4/amar/am).27

§ 4. Arrangement in practice28 Whereas in the previous chapter the different possibilities of arrangement have been introduced, it is now time to look closer at the texts themselves and observe the different processes of structuring. The following preliminary observations are neither intended to be exhaustive nor do I insist on their validity, because a certain degree of speculation is unavoidable in “interpreting” the contents. The lexical corpus known from Uruk does not cover all areas of political, religious, or daily life. Eye-catching is the fact that especially areas are treated, which are significant for economy. As a result, already at the time of the lists’ emergence, their purpose was mainly connected to a mundane usage. The following figure tries to assign the thirteen known lists from Uruk III to superordinate fields29 (fig. 2).30 § 4.1. Cities (and Geography)31 Particularly the LL Cities was hitherto much discussed concerning its content. The lack of any secured god list32 in the archaic layers led to the hypothesis that its arrangement of city or topographic designations may have been caused by mythological or cultic hierarchy due to the fact that 27

Cf. the DCCLT-project (accessed on October 19th, 2008). The archaic predecessor is unfortunately too fragmentary. 28 Where necessary the archaic sign is set in brackets directly after the transliteration. 29 Other attested lists like “vocabularies” are omitted here. 30 The term “cosmology” is perhaps inappropriate for both of its representatives. A diachronic overview is found in Bauer et al. 1998:98f. Score transliterations are published in Englund–Nissen 1993:69ff. and within the framework of the DCCLT-project (accessed on October 19th, 2008). 31 Cf. for a score transliteration of the LL Cities Englund–Nissen 1993:145ff. The badly damaged manuscripts of the LL Geography are edited on pp. 150f. Anyway, following Bauer et al. 1998:88f., the evidence from Fāra and Abū Ôalābīkh provides us with successors of this list. Cf. for the latter the edition in Biggs 1974: 71ff. 32 The Uruk III fragment W 20713,1 quoted in Bauer et al. 1998:88 is too small to give any conclusive remarks concerning LL containing divine names. Nonetheless, it is noteworthy that some of the god lists known from ED Fāra are added to the topographic list (cf. SF 23).

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“many of the toponymns contain elements of divine names (…), or are coterminous with divine names” (Bauer et al. 1998:92).33 Roger Matthews in his study of the so-called City seal investigated the links between representatives of that seal impression and the LL under discussion (1993:33ff.; Bauer et al. 1998:93f.). Recently Piotr Steinkeller doubted these relations, because “there is no reason why these two documents should necessarily show an identical sequence of toponymns, for their respective purposes were quite different. Whereas the city seal attested to a specific political situation, limited to a particular time and place, the geographical list served as an exhaustive scholarly catalogue of all the major ‘Sumerian’ cities, arranged hierarchically according to their size and importance” (2002:255). But, for this study, the patterns introduced supra in § 3 are of concern:34 – Graphically connected are entries 37 (AN NEa E2b), 38 (NINLIL), 39 (SAL GA2b+DUBa URI3a PAPa), 40 (E2b+AŠc), [41],35 and finally 42 (NAa E2a), where a rectangular sign (inter alia E2) is included. – Pattern 1 discussed above is attested in entries 58 (SUa E2a), 59 (GIR2a SUa), and 60 (ABZU). The last entry introduces the next group consisting of entries 61 (ABa TE) and 62 (BAR 1N57 ABa).

§ 4.2. Lu2 A (NAMEŠDA)36 The professions and titles list has been much discussed concerning its structure and possible hierarchy, which presumably mirror the Urukean human stratification at the time of the list’s emergence. Considering the graphic patterns introduced supra § 3 this list is one of the most complex representatives of our corpus. Very likely this efficient method of arranging the entries explains the list’s high popularity not only in the Uruk periods but also in the 3rd millennium. There is no place to deal with its structure appropriately, but I should pinpoint some specimens: – Entries 40 (GALa ZATU737+DI), 41 (SANGAa ZATU737+DI), 42 (SANGAa ZATU737+U4), 43 (SANGAa ZATU737+SAL), and 44 (SANGAa ZATU737+ ). GAR) are joined together by virtue of the frame-sign ZATU737 ( 33

Cf. also Englund–Nissen 1993:35. Although it is highly speculative and probably not provable, entries 29 (ERIM2(NEa+RU)) and 30 (SUSA(MUŠ3+ERIN)) seemingly joined together in virtue of the possible phonetic similarities between ERIM2 and ERIN. This may also explain the usage of the sign MUŠEN in the subsequent entry (TUR TUb MUŠEN); cf. the discussion of other possible phonetic relations supra § 3. 35 Note that the Fāra-text SF 23 mentions E2.DUR; cf. also OIP 99, 21 (DUR E2). 36 For a score transliteration cf. Englund–Nissen 1993:69–86 or the DCCLTproject. 34

294

Languages of the Ancient Near East – Pattern 6 discussed supra § 3 is used in entries 53 (NUNa BU3a [ ]) and 54 (KAR2a [ ] MEa) where the latter is traceable in the juxtaposed sign BU3a. MEa in the latter entry is also found in entry 55 (GALGAa MEa). – The same pattern is found in entries 61 (GALa KAKa KAKa [ ]) and 62 (GALa ŠAGAN [ ]) where the shape of KAKa is recognizable in the latter entry.37 – Probably we can find a relatively complex sequence also in entries 71–73, each containing the sign SUÚUR. The last entry (APINa SUÚUR) is connect] APINa). Here, a sign-part of MARa was possibly ed to 74 (MARa [ used referring to MEa ( ) in entries 75 (BUa NUNa MEa) and 76 (BUa SANGAa NUNa MEa). – Finally note entries 102 (KAB GI ABa [ ]) and 103 (UNUGa [ ]).

Fig. 3 based on the reconstruction made by Englund–Nissen 1993:17, fig. 4, shows those interrelations. § 4.3. Officials38 The second list dealing more or less with human stratification is of great concern because it resembles some of the titles also attested in Lu2 A. Whereas the archaic manuscripts have many lacunae, the ED successors are the most reliable source for an appropriate reconstruction of the list’s content.39 – Note entries 14 (ENa+NUNa), 15 (ÚI ENa E2a NUNa), and 16 (ENa I NUNa). – Considering the ED Fāra-text SF 59 there is an interesting specimen in ]) and 8 (KAB [ ]). entries iii 7 (DA [

Within the corpus of lexical texts from Uruk, four lists deal with different species of domestic or wild animals (§§ 4.4–7). To a certain degree, some of these designations are referred to by the Sumerian Word List C (cf. infra § 4.13). § 4.4. Animals40 Although this LL is well documented in the Uruk III-period, the fragments do not cover the whole content as it is attested in the ED periods.41 As mentioned above this list contains three main sections: AB2 ‘cow,’ GU4 37

Similar cases are well attested in the LL Metal; cf. infra § 4.12. A score transliteration of this archaic list is published in Englund–Nissen 1993:86–89 or in the DCCLT-project. 39 Here, the Fāra-text SF 59 as well as MEE 3, 50 from Ebla should be mentioned, both perfectly preserved representatives of that list. 40 Cf. the score transliteration in Englund–Nissen 1993:89–93. 41 Cf. e. g. the well preserved Fāra-text SF 81. 38

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‘ox,’ and AMAR ‘calf.’ In each section a stereotypical set of qualifications with only slight varieties is listed.42 – In the entries 6 (ŠU AB2) and 7 (ŠU BAR AB2) as well as in 8 (GI [AB2]) and 9 (GI BAR [AB2]) the sign BAR is each added to the latter entry. – Noteworthy are the entries 15f. of the AB2-section in comparison to their counterparts in the GU4-section. Whereas in the entries 15 (SIG7 SIG2a2 AB2) and 16 (SIG7 SIG2a2 GI6 AB2) the sign SIG2a2 is used, the parallel in entries 41f. mentions DU8c.gunû instead.

§ 4.5. Birds43 In opposition to the LL Fish (cf. infra § 4.6) almost every entry of the list Birds is classified with the prototypical sign of a bird, MUŠEN. Due to the bad preservation of the archaic manuscripts information about the inner structure is only partly recognizable: – The first entries of the list—1 (SI MUŠEN), 2 (GIŠ3b MUŠEN), and 3 (DU MUŠEN)—may have joined together by means of the original depiction of those lexemes as bodyparts.

§ 4.6. Fish44 The major part of the list’s entries—as far as it is preserved in the Uruk III-manuscripts—is classified with the sign KU6a. Anyway, the first section mentions other well-known sorts of fish like SUÚUR (entries 1–4), SUKUDa (entries 5–7), SUMAŠ (entry 9), LAK777 (entry 10), and UBIc (entries 12–13). – In entries 20 (1N57 [ ] KU6a), 21 (1N2 [ ] KU6a), and 22 (DUR2 [ ] KU6a) the horizontal stroke is predominant. ] KU6a) both – Entries 48 ([NAGAa] U2b MUŠEN [ ] KU6a) and 49 ([ ] NAMd [ contain a bird-shaped sign and hence were possibly joined together.45 ]+SARa KU6a) and 53 (LU2 [ ] KU6a) – Presumably entries 52 (KAa [ are an example for pattern 6 in this list. – Entries Fish 94–97 form a group following pattern 5. In each line the ) is used. frame-sign GA2a1 (

42

Such repetitions are not uncommon within the lexical corpus. The most prominent example is the repetitive section in Sumerian Word List C which was interpreted as one argument for the literary content of that text; cf. infra § 4.13. 43 Find the score transliteration in Englund–Nissen 1993:98–100. 44 Cf. the score transliteration in Englund–Nissen 1993:93–98 (resp. the DCCLTproject). 45 These two entries are also attested in the well preserved Fāra-text VAT 12693 (SF 10) iii 13f.

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§ 4.7. Swine46 This list is only preserved through two tablets from Uruk. One well preserved manuscript, namely W 12139 contains 58 designations of swine, which is also quoted in a colophon. Although the second fragment— W 20497—correlates with some of the entries of the former text, it seems, that both tablets were written ad hoc and did not enter the corpus of canonized lists.47 § 4.8. Wood48 This LL is one of the few representatives of our corpus which uses the graphemic classifier GIŠ extensively; only three entries lack this sign. – The entries 40 (GALa ŠA), 41 (ŠU ŠA), and 42 (GIŠ LI) are definitely joined to) recognizable in the sign LI ( ) too. gether based on the sign ŠA ( – Entry 45 (INb ÚI GIŠ) is attested in three subsequent entries of that list. – Note also entries 48 (GUMb [ ]), 49 (GUM.nutillûb [ ]), and 50 (GUMb GIŠ). This example is interesting, because only the last entry quotes the graphemic classifier GIŠ explicitely, which might be also recognizable in the shape of the sign GUMb. – Interesting are also entries 54 (NAM2 [ ] E2b) and 55 (GIŠ.tenû [ ] E2b). In comparison to the shape of the sign NAM2 the classifier GIŠ is slanted by 90° in the latter entry. – Noteworthy is the short section of entries 74 (TAGb GIŠ), 75 (SI TAGb GIŠ), and 76 (GIŠ SI KAKa). Whereas the first two entries contain the sign TAGb, SI in the second entry is taken over to the last one.49

§ 4.9. Grain50 This list is also referred to as Food. Whereas the archaic reconstruction leaves many lacunae, we have some well preserved ED manuscripts like SF 15. 46

Cf. the score transliteration in Englund–Nissen 1993:100–103. Cf. Veldhuis 2006:188. This suggestion receives its justification from the fact that that list is absent in the ensuing tradition of the 3rd millennium. Cf. also the discussion in Cavigneaux 2006:20ff. 48 This list is edited in Englund–Nissen 1993:103–112. 49 Cf. also Wood 66 ([ ] KIa GIŠ), 67 (GIŠ APINb KIa), and 68 (UR4b GIŠ SIG) where ) and UR4b ( ) are graphically relatively in the last two entries APINb ( similar. A further example is found in the ED geographical list found in Tell Abū Ôalābīkh: OIP 99, 96 iii′ 4′ (= 154: U3 GIŠ DUR2ki), 5′ (U3 GIŠ DUR2 KUL.ABAki), and 6′ (GIŠ KUL.ABAki) (cf. the score transliteration in Biggs 1974:71ff.). 50 Cf. the score transliteration in Englund–Nissen 1993:142–145 or the DCCLTproject. 47

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– Entries 26 (GAR.gunûc [ ]), 27 (BUa SAG.nutillû [ ]), 28 (U4 SAG.nutillû), and finally 29 (GALa GAR [ ]) are possibly grouped together on basis of the outer shape of the sign GAR which is graphically traceable in the sign 51 SAG.nutillû. – The sequence of entries 30 (GALa GUG2a), 31 (GUG2a), and 32 (GUG2a GUG2a) is obvious, but these lines are connected with the following entries 33 (ŠITAb3 LAGABa+ŠA) and 34 (LAGABa+ŠITAa1 LAGABa+ŠA)52 because of the sign LAGAB ( ) which is similar to the sign GUG2a ( ). – In the entries Grain D8 (SILA3a+ŠU), D9 (SILA3a+ZATU629), and D10 (SILA3a+ZATU646b) the sign SILA3a ( ) is used as a kind of frame-sign.

§ 4.10. Plant53 The preservation of the archaic list of plants is unfortunately relatively bad.54 – Relevant is the section starting with entry 11 (ÚI IMa). According to the ) is quoted in each entry until 20. In ED evidence the sign IMa/NI2 ( the archaic fragments it is not found in every entry, but might be gra; entry 11), U4 ( ; entry 13, 16f.), phically related to the signs ÚI ( and SIG ( ; entry 15).55

§ 4.11. Vessels56 The LL Vessels (or more accurately Vessels and Garments) deserves a thorough study, because it is the best source for the sign DUGb in its usage as frame-sign.57 – Note entries 29 (DUGb+ZATU779 [ ]) and 30 (DUGb+ŠEa+NAM2 [ ]) as ]) and 45 (DUGb+ZATU781 [ ]).58 In the well as 44 (DUGb+GIŠ [ former case pattern 4 is used, in the latter pattern 6. – An interesting sequence is found in the TUG2a(.gunû)-section in entries 91–98. As fig. 4 shall demonstrate, entries 91f. (containing U4) and 93f. (GI6) are connected semantically. Presumably the latter is phonetically ) in entries related to entries 95f. (GI). Finally, since the sign NEa (

51

Cf. also ibid., entries 19 (U4 GAR), 20 (GAR.gunûb), and 21 (GAR). It is questionable if the signs ŠITAa1 and ŠA are genuinely related; cf. also fig. 6c. 53 Cf. the score transliteration in Englund–Nissen 1993:120–122. 54 We have the well preserved ED IIIa text SF 58 which combines the lists Plants and Birds. 55 A similar case is found in the badly damaged LL Geography in entries 1 (E2a ] EZENb), 2 (BUa [ ] A), and 3 (NI2 [ ]). ÚI [ 56 Cf. the score transliteration in Englund–Nissen 1993:123–134 or on the homepage of the DCCLT-project (accessed on October 19th, 2008). 57 Cf. infra § 5 for preliminary remarks on this topic. 58 A similar case is found in Wood 51 (BA ŠE3 [ ] U2b) and 52 (GIŠ URUDUa [ ]). 52

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Languages of the Ancient Near East 97f. might depict an ear, it can be connected to preceding entries.59

GI

(

) in the

§ 4.12. Metal60 From our modern point of view this LL containing mainly objects made of metal demonstrates a high efficiency concerning its arrangement.61 Simultaneously this list shares some peculiarities with the LL Vessels (and Garments), inasmuch a great amount of entries is repeated individually by adding the presumable qualifier AN.62 ) and 2 (URI ) are graphically related on basis – The entries 1 (ŠENa of their gunû-markings.63 – The most interesting group in this list is represented by entries 3 (MUD3a ), 4 (MUD3.gunû ), and 5 (MIRb ), where the neck of the vessel in MUD 3a was compared to the final part of the sign MIRb. ) – A very similar situation is found in the entries Metal 6 (ZATU732 ) where the shape of the former is retrievable in the and 7 (ŠAKIRb GAR-sign inscribed in ŠAKIRb. ) and 10 (AN GIR2a) is connected – The sequence of entries 9 (GIR2a ) to the succeeding entries (until 14) containing the sign DIMc ( which share some similarities in shape. – Furthermore note entries 42f. ((AN) TAK4a MARb) and 44f. ((AN) BAR UŠa) ) and UŠa ( ) are graphically related. where the signs MARb ( The latter two entries are possibly connected to entries 46–50 by virtue ) and the very similar BAR of a comparison between the signs NU ( ( ). – Last but not least note entries 54 (EDIN ), 55 (AN EDIN), 56 (ZATU777 ŠE3 [ ] UDUa), 57 (ZATU777 KU3a [ ]), and 58 (ZATU777 KIa [ ] A?). Here, possibly the horizontal strokes lead to this arrangement.

59

Entries 95f. and 97f. could also be phonetically related, if we consider the reading GIBIL4 for the sign NE. Compare this instance with Archaic Cities 32 (GIBIL6 (GI NEa)) and Archaic Animals where U4 (entry 3//29) and GI6 (entry 4//30) are in proximity to NEa (entry 2//28) and GI (entry 8f.//60f.). 60 For a score transliteration cf. Englund–Nissen 1993:134–141 or the DCCLTproject. 61 Perhaps it comes with no surprise that one Uruk III-text—ATU 3, pl. 4, W 11986, a—contains Lu2 A as well as Metal. Cf. the discussion of the former supra § 4.2 (quoted in Veldhuis 2006:19316). 62 It is comparable to the extensive TUG2-section in Vessels where the sign TUG2 is marked in each repeated entry. 63 This sequence is also attested in economic records like MSVO 4, 21 quoted infra fig. 6a.

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The following reconstruction (see fig. 5) shall demonstrate the high efficiency of that list’s structure64. § 4.13. Sumerian Word List C (former Tribute)65 This list was persuasively interpreted by Niek Veldhuis as “an exercise that remains relatively close to the practice of archaic writing. Among the frequently attested lists (Lu A, Vessels, Word List C, Metal) it is no doubt the one with the most practical relevance. Far from being literature or secret lore, Word List C is an exercise in elementary administrative skills” (2006:195). As in the other lists, here too we find the patterns obviously used to join the entries and establish an appropriate arrangement; some examples are: – In the entries 3–5 (// 31–33) the frame-sign LAGABa is used. ] AMAR), 12 (1N14 SUÚUR [ ]), 13 (1N14 KAR2a – Entries 11 (1N1 GAb [ ]), 14 (3N1 KAD4b [ ]), and presumably 15 (3N1 ZAx [ ]) are [ joined together by means of strokes characterising the signs.

The repetition of ll. 3–30 in its entirety was much discussed. Recently, Niek Veldhuis (2006:184f.) pointed out that the peculiarities of this list neither indicate an early literary work as it has been proposed in Bauer et al. 1998: 99ff., nor represent “secret lore” suggested by Joan Goodnick Westenholz (1998:459ff.). After the repeated section a new set of entries starts with entry 59. I want to rivet to the following remarks: – Entries 64 (GI), 65 (GI ZIa), and 66 (GI ZIa ŠE3) are definitely joined together based on the sign GI whose shape has some similarity to ZIa. Obviously entries 66 (GI ZIa ŠE3), 67 (ZATU718, E2a PIRIGb1), 68 (ENa ŠE3), and 69 (ENa ŠE3 ZIa) are equally grouped together by virtue of the sign ŠE3 which is contained in all entries except for one. In that entry, ŠE3 ( ) may be recognizable in the sign ZATU718 ( ).

§ 5. Classification in early lexical texts An exhaustive study of the classification system(s) used in the archaic lexical corpus exceeds the scope of this paper by far.66 Therefore, the follow-

64

Cf. Englund–Nissen 1993:32, fig. 14. Cf. the score transliteration in Englund–Nissen 1993:112–120 and in the DCCLT-project (accessed on October 19th, 2008). 66 Within the framework of the COST-project A-31 “Stability and Change of Classification Systems in a Cross-Cultural Perspective” a study is currently ongo65

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ing notes are intended to attract the reader’s attention to the paradigm of the so-called frame-signs which, orginally, seems to be strongly related to the other—separately written—classifiers or determinatives. These signs are per definitionem signs whose shape has the capability to include another sign or sign-group. This definition fits very well on signs depicting a kind of container. The best-known example of such a container is DUG ‘vessel,’ which is found extensively in the LL Vessels (and Garments). Margaret Green states that this sign “functions as a determinative but is written enclosing an inscribed sign” (1981:360). Jean-Jacques Glassner refers to these signs as “matrice” (2000:187ff. resp. Bahrani–Van de Mieroop 2003:143ff.). He quotes, “La matrice ne réfère pas nécessairement à un objet concret particulier ni ne définit un champ lexical précis” (2000: 188). Combinations with the afore-mentioned sign DUG were collected by Theo Krispijn (1991–1992:14f.). If we compare this evidence to the much later list of vessels in tablet X of Ur5-ra : ¶ubullu, we see that there the sign DUG is never used as frame-sign or matrix; it is written separately and precedes the lexeme.67 Furthermore, in the majority of examples available the inscribed signs can be interpreted as representations of real commodities. A second very important question is whether or not an inscribed sign is partly or fully representing the phonetic reading of the whole complex sign. This problem was discussed by Jean-Jacques Glassner as follows: “Parmi les signes dérivés figurent des morphophonogrammes, ces compositions de plusieurs sous-graphies dont l’une a une fonction figurative et l’autre une valeur phonétique conçue pour indiquer la prononciation de la graphie” (2000:189 resp. Bahrani–Van de Mieroop 2003:144). But this definition is problematic because there are some dichotomous examples like the combination of the box GA2 resp. PISAG3 and EN with the attested reading MEN ‘crown.’ In that case, the sign EN may be interpretable either as phonetic indicator or as semantic indicator referring to the person associated with MEN ‘crown’ (Glassner 2000:189f. resp. Bahrani– Van de Mieroop 2003:145). Theo Krispijn in his study lists in the chapter “phonetic complements and glosses” (= “Materials 5”) further examples (1991–1992:17) in the Uruk III lexical texts. Last but not least it is questionable whether or not those frame-signs can be distinguished from other—juxtaposed—complex signs. The lexiing, whose aim is a comparative investigation of classifiers in Egyptian hieroglyphs and cuneiform writing (together with Niv Allon, Hebrew University, Jerusalem). 67 Cf. the edition in Civil 1996.

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cal corpus of the Uruk IV and III periods contains several occurrences like Lu2 A 53, NUNa BU3a, where the latter is a combination of the signs SAG ‘head’ and KAR2,68 or Fish 52, KAa+SARa KU6a, and so forth. In those cases another type of “clustering” was used. After Margaret Green such complex signs trace back to the sign clustering well documented in texts of the Uruk IV period (1981:361). What relevance the afore-mentioned frame-signs have on classification is not entirely clear. At least such signs depicting a kind of container could be comparable to other known classifiers like GIŠ, KU6 or MUŠEN. But whereas the frame-sign DUG became discarded after the Uruk period—later it is only attested in the direct successors of the Urukean lists—other signs like GA2 or LAGAB preserve more or less their “status” as frame-sign.69 The following chart gives an overview of the distribution of frame-signs in the pertaining corpus:70 Frame-sign DUGb

LAGAB

68

Evidence Cities 16 (KAŠb A); Swine 6 (MEa GARA2a+SILA3a ŠUBUR); Grain C1 (DUGb+?), C2 (DUGb+AB2), C3 (DUGb+TIa); Plant A2 (DUG+AŠb SUMa); Vessels 4 (DUG+AŠc), 21 (DUGb+ŠEa), 22 (DUGb+BALAa), 23 (DUGb+KASKAL), 24 (KAŠb), 25 (DUGb+ GEŠTUa), 26 (DUGb+?), 27 (DUGb+SAa+GI), 28 (DUGb+ NAGAa), 29 (DUGb+ZATU779), 30 (DUGb+ŠEa+NAM2), 31 (DUGb+TAK4a), 32 (DUGb+SAa), 33 (DUGb+SIG7), 34 (DUGb+ SIG2a1), 35 (DUGb+TIa), 36 (DUGb+MAŠ), 37 (DUGb+SI4a), 38 (DUGb+GAb), 39 (DUGb+GI6), 40 (DUGb+U2a), 41 (DUGb+ LAM+KURa), 42 (DUGb+LAMa), 43 (DUGb+KURa), 44 (DUGb+ GIŠ), 45 (DUGb+ZATU781), 46 (DUGb+BIR3c), 47 (DUGb+ KU6a), 48 (DUGb+ŠAÚ2a), 49 (DUGb+ANŠEb), 50 (DUGb+UÚ3a), 51 (DUGb+ÚI), 52 (DUGb+DIN), 53 (ŠU2 DUGb+DIN), 54 (DUGb+DIN), 59 (DUGb+SIG7 U4), 60 (DUGb+SIG7 GI), 61 (DUGb+SIG7 NIMa) Lu2 A 113 (GALa? MUNU3?), Grain 30 (GALa GUG2a), 31 (GUG2a), 32 (GUG2a GUG2a), 33 (ŠITAb3 LAGABa+ŠA), 34 (LAGABa+ŠITAa1 LAGABa+ŠA); Vessels 62 (AGAR2); Metal 16 (ZATU786 AGAR2), 17 (AGAR2 DUB2 [ ]); Sumerian Word List C 3/31 (5N1 MUNU3), 4/32 (5N1 GAZI), 5/33 (5N1 ÚALUB)

Cf. supra § 4.2. They are still present in the late sign names which were published by Yushu Gong (2000). 70 In this table signs are included whose graphical shape seemingly involves a frame-sign; e. g. MUNU3 with the outer shape of LAGAB. The incorporation of these signs is caused by their supposed relevance in the arrangement of entries within the lists discussed in §§ 2–4. 69

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EZEN

Evidence Cities 11 (AMAb MEa), 39 (SAL GA2b+DUBa URI3a PAPa); Lu2 A 24 (GALa SILA4b), 55 (GALGAa MEa); Officials 31 (MENa ŠA3a AN); Fish 94 (GA2a1+ÚI), 95 (GA2a1+SUÚUR), 96 (GA2a1+A), 97 (GA2a1+KU6a); Swine 19 (SILA4b ŠUBUR); Plant C3 (ZATU684 AMAb) Cities 8 (GABURRA); Lu2 A 40 (GALa ZATU737+DI), 41 (SANGAa ZATU 737+DI), 42 (SANGAa ZATU737+U4), 43 (SANGAa ZATU737+SAL), 44 (SANGAa ZATU737+GAR) Cities 4 (UNUGa), 18 (NANŠEb), 44 (ABa.gunû), 73 (ABa+ ZATU659); Lu2 A 103 (UNUGa) Cities 88 (BAD3a); Lu2 A 125 (GALa EZENb+6N57)

NINDA2

Grain 1 (NINDA2+1N1), 2 (NINDA2+2N1)

ZATU759

Fish 93 (ZATU759+KU6a)

Frame-sign GA2a

ZATU737

ABa

According to this statistical overview the most productive frame-sign was DUGb. Most of those lexically attested combinations of DUGb are absent in the administrative corpus.71 In my opinion, the apprentice scribe who learnt the script and the list’s content also became acquainted with the syntax of the script and therefore was able to manipulate the basic inventory of signs to a certain degree.72 By inscribing, combining, attaching, and marking he was able to add new meanings to the existing corpus of signs. Conclusions The archaic texts—whether lexical or administrative—contain a remarkable amount of data. The inventors of the (cuneiform) writing system created an astonishing tool to transfer knowledge either on an intellectual level or by recording economic procedures. In this paper I tried to show that these texts—at least the lexical evidences73—are organized and struc-

71

An analysis was done by Krispijn 1991–92:14, who compared the LL Vessels (and Garments) with the contemporaneous administrative corpus. 72 This interpretation is acknowledged by a text published as MSVO 3, 81 and discussed by Peter Damerow (2006:7). 73 It is doubtful if such principles also influenced the choice of signs in Sumerian literary texts. An interesting example is UET 6, 101, a hymn to Haya. In l. 11 we find the expression ki-sikil dnin-(…). There, KI and AN are semantically related, whereas SIKIL and NIN show some graphic similarities. In the same text, in l. 21, we find ki-galam-¶ur-kalam-ma, where on the one hand KI and ÚUR are graphically related and on the other hand GALAM and KALAM phonetically.

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tured with high efficiency. Although many links and relations within several lists seem sometimes speculative and doubtful, it is obvious that scribal training demands a kind of tool helping apprentice scribes to learn entries and therefore designations for the environment’s components. That the professions list Lu2 A (NAMEŠDA) shows the most complex serialization may be influenced by the content of this list representing the contemporaneous stratification of the Urukean society. Perhaps these features are partly responsible that the archaic lists were copied for such a long period and remain popular until the beginning of the 2nd millennium74 and, what is even more important, the creation of the great lexical compendia like Ur5-ra. These early word-lists presumably influenced the arrangement of commodities in contemporaneous economic records, too. As far as we know, the archaic texts lack any literary output.75 The lists’ main purpose was the education of scribes who were supposed to work in an administrative milieu. As shown in §§ 2 and 4 the content of the LL leads to the assumption that administration was the main recipient. I will finish this paper by riveting cursorily on some examples of mundane texts which allow comparisons between lexical texts and economic records (fig. 6). The evidence discussed above should demonstrate that such arrangements in the lists are not incidental. If we set the Sitz im Leben of these texts in the school milieu, it is obvious from the evidence that the principles of arrangement evolved in the lists also penetrated the mundane texts. Examples (a) and (b) (fig. 6) show that entries from the LL Metal were used in the same arrangement in administrative documents. The third instance makes it clear that the signs ŠITA and ŠA are related. This is proven by the LL Grain where entries 33 (ŠITAb3 LAGABa+ŠA) and 34 (LAGABa+ŠITAa1 LAGABa+ŠA) are attested.

74 Cf. Jonathan Taylor’s discussion of the early lists’ relevance in the scribal education in the OB period (2008). 75 Cf. supra § 4.13.

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Fig. 1

Fig. 2

K. Wagensonner, Early Lexical Lists Revisited…

Fig. 3

305

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Fig. 4

K. Wagensonner, Early Lexical Lists Revisited…

Fig. 5

307

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Fig. 6

K. Wagensonner, Early Lexical Lists Revisited…

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References Bahrani– Van de Mieroop 2003

Bauer et al. 1998

Biggs 1974 Cavigneaux 2006

Civil 1976

Civil 1996

Damerow 2006 Edzard 2007

Englund–Nissen 1993 Glassner 2000 Gong 2000 Green 1981 Krebernik 2002

Krebernik 2007

Krispijn 1991–1992 Lambert 1981 Matthews 1993

Bahrani, Z.; Van de Mieroop, M. The Invention of Cuneiform. Writing in Sumer (translation of J.-J. Glassner 2000). Baltimore–London. Bauer, J.; Englund, R. K.; Krebernik, M. Mesopotamien. Späturuk-Zeit und Frühdynastische Zeit. Annäherungen 1 (OBO 160/1). Fribourg–Göttingen. Biggs, R. D. Inscriptions from Tell Abū Ôalābīkh (OIP 99). Chicago–London. Cavigneaux, A. Les suidés: pictogrammes et listes lexicales. Lion, B.; Michel, C. (eds.). De la domestication au tabou: Le cas des suidés dans le Proche-Orient ancien (Travaux de la Maison René-Ginouvès I). Paris. Pp. 15–24. Civil, M. Lexicography. Lieberman, S. (ed.). Sumerological Studies in Honor of Thorkild Jacobsen on His Seventieth Birthday June 7, 1974 (AS 20). Chicago. Pp. 123–157. Civil, M. ÚAR-ra = ¶ubullu: Tablet X dug = karpatu. Sallaberger, W. Der babylonische Töpfer und seine Gefässe (MHEM 3). Ghent. Pp. 129–163. Damerow, P. The Origins of Writing as a Problem of Historical Epistemology. CDLJ 2006/1:1–10. Edzard, D. O. Die altmesopotamischen lexikalischen Listen—verkannte Kunstwerke? Wilcke, C. (ed.). Das geistige Erfassen der Welt im Alten Orient. Sprache, Religion, Kultur und Gesellschaft. Wiesbaden. Pp. 17–26. Englund, R. K.; Nissen, H. J. Die lexikalischen Listen der archaischen Texte aus Uruk (ATU 3). Berlin. Glassner, J.-J. Écrire à Sumer. L’invention du cunéiforme. Paris. Gong, Y. Die Namen der Keilschriftzeichen (AOAT 268). Münster. Green, M. The Construction and Implementation of the Cuneiform Writing System. Visible Language 15/4:345–372. Krebernik, M. Von Zählsymbolen zur Keilschrift. Greber, E.; Ehlich, K.; Müller, J.-D. (eds.). Materialität und Medialität von Schrift. Bielefeld. Pp. 51–71. Krebernik, M. Zur Entwicklung des Sprachbewusstseins im Alten Orient. Wilcke, C. (ed.). Das geistige Erfassen der Welt im Alten Orient. Sprache, Religion, Kultur und Gesellschaft. Wiesbaden. Pp. 39–61. Krispijn, Th. J. H. The Early Mesopotamian Lexical Lists and the Dawn of Linguistics. JEOL 32:12–22. Lambert, W. G. Studies in UD.GAL.NUN. OrAnt 20:81–97. Matthews, R. J. Cities, Seals and Writing: Archaic Seal Impressions from Jemdet Nasr and Ur (MSVO 2). Berlin.

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Languages of the Ancient Near East Nissen, H. J. Schule vor der Schrift. Selz, G. J. (ed.). Ancient Near Eastern Studies: The Empirical Dimension. Selz, G. J. Über Mesopotamische Herrschaftskonzepte. Zu den Ursprüngen mesopotamischer Herrcherideologie im 3. Jahrtausend. Dietrich, M.; Loretz, O. (eds.). dubsar anta-men. Studien zur Altorientalistik. Festschrift für Willem H. Ph. Römer zur Vollendung seines 70. Lebensjahres mit Beiträgen von Freunden, Schülern und Kollegen (AOAT 253). Münster. Pp. 281–344. Taylor, J. Lexicographical Study of the Already Ancient in Antiquity. Biggs, R. D. et al. (eds.). Proceedings of the 51st Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale. Chicago. Pp. 201–208. Steinkeller, P. Archaic City Seals and the Question of Early Babylonian Unity. Abusch, T. (ed.). Riches Hidden in Secret Places. Ancient Near Eastern Studies in Memory of Thorkild Jacobsen. Winona Lake. Pp. 249–257. Veldhuis, N. Review of Englund–Nissen 1993. BiOr 52: 433–440. Veldhuis, N. How did They Learn Cuneiform? Tribute/ Word List C as an Elementary Exercise. Michalowski, P.; Veldhuis, N. (eds.). Approaches to Sumerian Literature in Honour of Stip (H. L. J. Vanstiphout). Leiden. Pp. 181–200. Westenholz, J. G. Thoughts on Esoteric Knowledge and Secret Lore. Prosecký, J. Intellectual Life in the Ancient Near East (CRRAI 43). Prague. Pp. 451–462. Wilcke, C. ED LÚ A und die Sprache(n) der Archaischen Texte. Van Soldt, W. H. (ed.). Ethnicity in Ancient Mesopotamia (CRRAI 48). Leiden. Pp. 430–445.

Sumerian and Akkadian Literature and Literary Language

Similes in the Gilgamesh Epic Benjamin R. Foster Yale University

The study of figurative language in Akkadian literature has reached a point we can narrow and refine the inquiry to certain periods, types of texts, or specific aspects of the individual figures themselves. Considering similes, we can sort similes in different and productive ways, for instance, by the density of their occurrence—how many similes occur in proportion to the total word count of a composition. Using this approach, we will find that incantations have a high density of simile, but poetic narratives, such as the Gilgamesh Epic, a low one, and proceed from there to evaluate their density in a group of texts over time, such as epics or prayers. We can sort similes by their complexity, contrasting the simple, two or three word similes of Atrahasis or Enuma Elish with the far more elaborate similes of the Epic of Erra, or with the highly wrought and prosy similes of the Eighth Campaign of Sargon II. We can sort similes by originality—does a particular simile occur elsewhere? If so, is it a literary allusion or a common expression? If not, how do we judge its originality? We can further sort similes by what the subject is compared to: another person, a god, an animal, a manmade object, or something occurring in nature.1 Based on this, we can consider figurative strategies as a whole in a single composition, to construct a restricted logic of how similes are used. To this end, the five tables below summarize the use of similes in the Gilgamesh Epic, sorted by what the subject of the comparison is compared

1

For the text of the Epic, I cite according to George, A. R. The Babylonian Gilgamesh Epic. Introduction. Critical Edition and Cuneiform Texts. Oxford, 2003, abbreviating BGE, as well as for philological, epigraphic, contextual, and comparative data. For figures of speech, I cite also Streck, M. P. Die Bildersprache der akkadischen Epik (AOAT 264). Münster, 1999, abbreviating Streck, according to his numeration of figures, as this work, which could not take George’s edition in account, contains many useful and important observations on the figures discussed here, including their broader context in Akkadian literature, as well as a general treatment of Akkadian simile, which I presuppose here.

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to. I have freely combined the different versions of the Epic, but have omitted Tablet XII in order to focus on Tablets I–XI as a unified work. Table 1: Comparisons to human beings comparison subject street mob kiss feet like a little childa Gilgamesh have way like a childb let out hair, mourning like your sistersc weep for you like your brothersd mourn like a mothere mourn bitterly like a hired? (female) keenerf veil the friend (Enkidu) like a brideg caress? (Enkidu) like a wifeh

(?) (?) pastures Gilgamesh Gilgamesh Gilgamesh

scream like a woman in childbirthi struggle like a woman in laborj face like a wayfarer’s from afark roam in steppe like a bandit (trapper?)l

birth goddess storm Gilgamesh Gilgamesh

become like a warrior/groomm talk like a weaklingn

Enkidu Enkidu

stab like a butchero

Gilgamesh

citation SB I 255 OB III 265, SB III 210 SB VIII 39 SB VIII 38 SB VIII 13 SB VIII 45 SB VIII 59 OB II 33, SB I 256 etc. SB XI 117 SB XI 132 SB X 116 etc. OBA VA+ BM ii 11′ OB II 110 OB III 156, SB II 232 SB VI 145

a. kī šerri lā!i unaššaqū šēpīšu. George: ‘They were kissing his feet like a little baby’s,’ see BGE 1 802, implying that the fallen object was cute and appealing, whereas B. Foster (Foster, B. Gilgamesh: Sex, Love, and the Ascent of Knowledge. Marks, J.; Good, R. (eds.). Love & Death in the Ancient Near East, Essays in Honor of Marvin H. Pope. Guilford, 1987, p. 27) suggested that the young men were behaving in an infantile manner, crowding about the sensational arrival in awe: ‘like infantile urchins they did it homage.’ George’s has the advantage of closer parallelism with the following line, in which there is a womanly gesture of affection, whereas Foster’s has the advantage of not assigning the massive object, too heavy even for the mighty Gilgamesh to move, tiny feet. For a possible anthropological parallel to George’s interpretation (see also Streck 43), one may diffidently cite Charles Doughty (Doughty, Ch. Travels in Arabia Deserta. New York, no date, p. 279): “There is a strange custom, (not only of nomad women, but in the Arabic countries even among Christians, which may seem to remain of the old idolatry among them,) of mothers, their gossips, and even young maidens, visiting married women to kiss with a kind devotion the hammam of the male children.” My anthropological da-

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tum is the crowd of children and onlookers who could be expected to appear in a Mesopotamian village when a stranger of extraordinary appearance approached. b. kīma ´e¶ri ernittaka kušdā (see BGE 1 215; Streck 16). c. kīma a¶ātika lū uššurā pērātūšunu eli ´ērīšun (BGE 1 652; Streck 46). d. kīma a¶¶ēka libkū elīka … (BGE 1 652; Streck 46). e. linambā qerbētu kīma ummika (BGE 1 650; Streck 25). f. kīma lallarīti unamba ´arpiš (BGE 1 654; Streck 26). g. iktumma ibri kīma kallati [pānīšu] (BGE 1 654; Streck 47). h. arāmšuma kīma aššatim a¶abbub elšu (BGE 1 174; Streck 52). i. išassī dIštar kīma alitti (BGE 1 710; Streck 29). j. ša imta¶´u kīma ¶ajjalti (BGE 1 710; Streck 190). k. ana ālik ur¶i rūqati pānūšu mašlū (BGE 1 684; Streck 101). l. attanaggiš kīma ¶ābilim qabaltu ´ēri (BGE 1 278; Streck 19). m. kīma muti ibaššī (BGE 1 176; Streck 57; cf. Streck 93: awīliš īwe). n. [u at]tā kīma pasnaqi taqabbī (BGE 1:200). o. u Gilgameš kī ¢ābi¶i [x x] qardi u lē!i (BGE 1:626). Some of the most frequent and original similes in the Gilgamesh Epic are based on human relationships and activities. Of those that compare men to women and children, two (a., b.) refer to children and imply undisciplined emotion, five (c., d., e., g., h.) refer to natural (female to male, male to male) or marital kinship as examples of tenderness of feeling, one (f.) compares a man’s expression of grief to that of a mourning woman (I have no proof that this instance really means a professional mourner), and two (i., j.) allude to women and the pain and physical effort of childbirth. Comparisons of men to men make negative examples of men not in positions of control or authority (wayfarer, k., bandit, l., weakling, n.). They make positive comparisons to men of skill (butcher, o.) or men in favorable or respected positions (warrior or bridegroom, m.). We can detect an interesting consistency among the figures of speech comparing men to women and children. The comparisons suggest that the subject shows strong feeling and open expression of emotion beyond what might be expected of other men. They seem to be positive in their implication. Thus, the more a man acted or treated another person the way a woman or a child would, the greater depth, range, and expression of feeling was attributed to him. Men were the term of comparison for status, women and children the term of comparison for tenderness, emotion, and pain.

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Table 2: Comparisons to deities comparison subject (specific gods) Enkidu hair like a grainfield (a goddess, Nisaba)a skin like a wild beast (a god, Sumuqan)b Enkidu strength like a mass from the sky(? a god, Anu)c Enkidu face like a monster bird’s (Anzu)d (gods in general) leading (Enkidu) like a gode for Gilgamesh, as for a god …f you are become like a godg (humans be) like us godsh bellow? like thunder (Adad)i

dream apparition Shamhat rival is ready? Enkidu flood hero and wife Humbaba

citation SB I 107 SB I 109 SB I 125, 137, 248 etc. SB VII 169

OB II 73 OB II 194 OB II 53, SB I 207 SB XI 204 SB IV 205

a. itiq pertišu u¶tannaba kīma dNisaba (BGE 1 544; Streck 21). b. lubušti labiš kīma dSumuqan (BGE 1 544; Streck 21). c. [kīma ki´ri] ša dAnim dunnun[ā emūqāšu] (BGE 1 544; Streck 76, 84). d. ana ša Anzê panūšu mašlū (BGE 1 642; Streck 102). e. ´abtat qassu kīma ilim ireddēšu (BGE 1 174; 1 67; Streck 14). f. ana dG. šarrim ša Urukki ribītim šakiššum me¶rum (BGE 1 178; 1:190– 191; Streck 53). g. kīma ilim tabaššī (BGE 1 174, 550; Streck 58). h. lū emū kīma ilī nāšima (BGE 1 716; Streck 59). i. kīma dAdad i[raggum] (BGE 1 598). In proportion to comparisons with human beings, there are few comparisons with gods in the Gilgamesh Epic and in each case they refer to exceptional characteristics or activities of human beings. The meaning of ‘leading like a god’ (e.) was hitherto considered to refer to Shamhat in the role of a protective deity. More recently, George considers the reference to be to leading a cult image in procession: Enkidu has become like a god led by a human worshiper. An advantage of George’s transfer of the comparison from Shamhat to Enkidu is that this comparison would then become consistent with all the other comparisons in this group, in which only male characters are compared to gods. The meaning of simile f. is also disputed. George’s recent interpretation suggests that Gilgamesh was provided a ‘rival,’ so, like a god, he could triumph over a rival in order to achieve special status. However that may be, the intent of the simile is to glorify Gilgamesh. What Shamhat means when she tells Enkidu

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(g.) ‘You are become like a god’ is not clear, if it is more than lover’s talk. A Mesopotamian wisdom composition claims that when people feel satisfied they would rival their gods,2 so this may be all she meant. Utanapishtim gained immortality, so was ‘like us gods’ (h.), but was not really a god, presumably, as immortality was only one attribute of divinity. Utanapishtim was not granted transcendent power or a cult, for instance. When a comparison was made, on the other hand, between a deity and a human being (Table 1, simile i.), the intent is to show that the goddess is feeling extreme pain. comparison grappled like bullsa lords it like a bullb overran like a bullc overran like an oxd bellowed like a bulle toppled? like a bullf paced like a lionessg moaned like a doveh

Table 3: Comparisons to animals subject Gilgamesh, Enkidu Gilgamesh dream monster storm god, Adad monster, Humbaba Enkidu defeating monster Gilgamesh Gilgamesh

trussed arms like a birdi clad with feathers like a birdj circled like an eaglek crouched like dogs outsidel crowded like fliesm buzz like fliesn fill sea like fisho Selected Metaphor: spawn of a turtlep

Enkidu the dead Gilgamesh gods gods lips drowned people

citation OB II 218 SB I 64 etc. SB VII 174 SB XI 108 SB IV 201 OB Nippur 5 SB VIII 61 MB Megiddo rev.:14′ SB VII 183 SB VII 189 SB VIII 60 SB XI 116 SB XI 163 SB VII 73 SB XI 124

Enkidu

SB V 88

a. i´´abtūma kīma lē!im ilūdū (BGE 1 180; 1 191; Streck 15). b. ugdaššar rīmāniš šaqū rēšu (BGE 1 542; Streck 22, 94). c. kīma rīmi dan[ni ir¶]i´ elīja (BGE 1 642; Streck 24). d. ir¶i´ māta kīma alpi … (BGE 1 708). e. kīma rīmu kadri itkupu … issîma (BGE 1 598; Streck 67). f. kīma lē!im tušabraqšu (BGE 1 242; 1 244; Streck 17). g. kīma nēšti ša šuddat mērāniša (BGE 1 656; Streck 85). h. kīma summi udamm[im …] (BGE 1 344; Streck 20). i. iksīma kīma i´´ūri idīja (BGE 1 644; Streck 45). j. labšāma kīma i´´ūri ´ubāt kappi (BGE 1 644; Streck 35). 2

Ludlul II 45: išibbâma išannanā ilšun (Lambert, W. G. Babylonian Wisdom Literature. Oxford, 1960, p. 40).

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k. kīma arē isār [elišu] (BGE 1 656; Streck 27). l. kīma kalbi kunnunū ina kamāti rab´ū (BGE 1 710; Streck 68). m. kīma zumbē eli bēl niqî ipta¶rū (BGE 1 712; Streck 31). n. ¶amā kīma zumbē (BGE 1 636; Streck 188). o. kī mārī nūnī umallā tâmtamma (BGE 1 710; Streck 78). Selected Metaphor: p. atam raqqu u šeleppê (BGE 1 606; Streck 132). Unlike the comparisons with human beings, many of these similes are attested elsewhere in Mesopotamian literature, which made ample use of animal similes.3 Some figures are perhaps enhanced in the Gilgamesh Epic by making them to the female of the species (the lioness, g., and maybe the dove? h.), in both instances, as with human beings and the anguished goddess, to deepen the painful emotion implied in the comparison. This seems in keeping with the theme of feminization that has so often been explored in treatments of the Epic. Nor is the choice of animals striking, save for the flies and dogs. The comparisons of gods to dogs (l.) and flies (m.) are unique and strongly negative, so much so as to be dramatic and among the most famous comparisons in Mesopotamian literature. In Mesopotamian literature comparisons to reptiles were normally negative. I suspect comparing Enkidu to a turtle (p.) was to some extent humorous, as the Epic had hitherto stressed his hairiness, for which a turtle would be scarcely apt. Table 4: Comparisons to products of civilization comparison subject neta Enkidu, lying down arrowb Gilgamesh, attacking roar like a drumc Enkidu’s voice stately as a battlementd Enkidu passed over like a battlee storm wind shattered [like a pot?]f landscape flat as a rooftopg flooded landscape sank like a rafth Gilgamesh in dream sprang back like a spring ropei monster in dream like …? j city wall Selected Metaphors: axe, sword, shield at sidek Enkidu (as friend) best, favorite garmentl Enkidu (as friend)

citation SB IV 13 etc. SB IX 17 SB IV 241 SB II 41 SB XI 111 SB XI 108 SB XI 136 SB VII 173 SB VII 172 SB I 13 SB VIII 46–47 SB VIII 48

3 Heimpel, W. Tierbilder in der sumerischen Literatur (StP 2). Rome, 1974; Marcus, D. Animal Similes in Assyrian Royal Inscriptions. Or 46 (1977):86–106; Streck. Bildersprache, pp. 172–176.

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a. kīma šēšê [ ] (BGE 1 588; 2 818). b. kīma šilta[¶i ana b]irīšunu imqut (BGE 1 668; Streck 28). Streck notes the parallel to TCL 3, 133 (Eighth Campaign of Sargon II); for other allusions to the Epic in that text, see Foster, B. A New Edition of the Epic of Gilgamesh. JAOS 125 (2005):63–64. c. [kī]ma lilissu lū šapû r[igimka] (BGE 1 600; Streck 44). d. lānu šī¶u naburriš šar[¶u] (BGE 1 560; 2 804; Streck 95). e. kīma qabli eli nišī ubâ!u [ ] (BGE 1 710; Streck 6). f. [karpatiš?] i¶p[îša] (BGE 1 708; 2 885; Streck 178). g. kīma ūri mit¶urat ušallu (BGE 1 712; Streck 30). h. kīma amu u¢¢ebbanni (BGE 1 642; Streck 189, compare 7). i. kīma keppî iša¶¶i¢ (BGE 1 642; 2 849; Streck 24). j. kīma qê nipš[u] (BGE 1 538; 2 780–781; Streck 216). Selected Metaphors: k. ¶a´´in a¶ija [tukl]atu idija nam´ar šippija arīte ša panīja (BGE 1 654; Streck 159). l. lubār isinnātija nībi¶ lallêa (BGE 1 654; Streck 159). The first four of these, as well as the axe metaphor, k. refer to implements of battle or public ceremony and seem original to the Epic. So too the roof, g., raft, h., and rope, i., seem original, though the swamped raft is directly derived from an original simile in the earlier Atrahasis story, which compares the drowned human race to a drifting, capsized raft. On the other hand, shattered like a pot, if correctly restored, is a cliché in Akkadian. The simile was perhaps refurbished in the epic, as the human race was made from clay. In contrast to Homeric epic, Mesopotamian literature knows considerable ceramic imagery, which always stresses how fragile it is, whereas the notion of containing is expressed by comparisons to vats.4 Table 5: Comparisons to naturally occurring phenomena comparison subject citation roofed over like the depthsa the ark SB XI 31 roots like a bramble’s, pricks like a thornb plant of rejuvenation SB XI 283–284 snapped off like a reedc human progeny SB X 301 rose up like a cloudd monster bird in dream OB Nippur rev.:1′ 4

Streck. Bildersprache, p. 187; besides the literature cited there, instances are collected and discussed in Foster, K. P. Ceramic Imagery in Ancient Near Eastern Literature. Vandiver, P. B. (ed.). Materials Issues in Art and Archaeology. II (Materials Research Society Symposium Proceedings 185). Pittsburgh, 1991. Pp. 389–413.

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raining down like foge wafted over like fogf like something taboo (or disgusting)g like something pure (or: snow??)h pale, like something cut off(?)i dispensed like river water, celebrated like New Yearj Selected Metaphors: rain, cloud, fogk

death sleep fine clothes clothes Enkidu

empty airl

human accomplishments

work force dead and sleeping?

SB V 136 SB XI 211 SB VIII 64 SB XI 254 OB Schøyen 2 63 SB XI 74–75 SB IV 104; X 316; XI 211 OB III 143

a. kīma apsî šâši ´ullilši (BGE 1 704; compare Streck 37). b. kīma eddēti [šikinšu] šakin, si¶ilšu kīma amurdimma usa[¶¶al] (BGE 1 720; Streck 48, 60). c. amēlūtum ša kīma qanê api ¶ā´ipi šumšu (BGE 1 696; Streck 189a). d. i[tbēma kī]ma [e]rp[eti]mma (BGE 1 244; Streck 18). e. mūtum kīma imbari izannun elīšun (BGE 1 608; Streck 23). f. šittu kīma imbari inappuš elīšu (BGE 1 716; Streck 32). g. inassa¶ inaddi damqūti aša[kkiš] (BGE 1 656; Streck 96). h. kīma elli limsi (BGE 1 718; 2 894 (‘pure as can be’); Streck 32a). i. k[īma nak]sim (BGE 1 236). j. [ašqi] kīma mê nārimma … isinni ippušu kī ūmi akītimma (BGE 1 706; Streck 83). Selected Metaphors: k. šallu u mitum kī pî a¶amešma (BGE 1 696 (‘abducted’); Streck 103). l. mimma ša itteneppušu šāruma (BGE 1 200; Streck 119). These lack a pattern, unlike the human and animal comparisons, beyond the fact that most are negative in their implication. It would appear, then, that when human beings were compared to animals, the intent of the comparison was generally positive, but when human beings or their accomplishments or attributes were compared to other aspects of the natural world, such as water, clouds, reeds, clay (see Streck 111), and the like, the comparison was often negative. With respect to density of figure, one may calculate the evidence various ways, but as a very rough figure of about one simile per fifty lines of poetry, comparable to that of the Shamash Hymn, in which we find but four direct similes in two hundred lines. One may modify that proportion by noting a tendency to cluster figures, like accidentals in music, so that they are by no means evenly distributed, as in SB VIII 38–39, with two others in the same speech (SB VIII 13, 45); SB XI 117, 131; SB I 107,

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109, 125; SB VII 174, 183, 189. A comparable pattern occurs in the Shamash hymn, where two of the four similes occur in one line, in a context in which Shamash’s justice is compared, one way or another, to a net, a snare, and a trap for the unwary. In the Gilgamesh Epic, similes are more typical of direct speech, often of high emotional content, assigned to characters in the narrative, rather than typical of the narrative voice. Examples of this include Gilgamesh’s speech of mourning, Utanapishtim’s narrative of the flood, Shamhat’s encouragement of Enkidu, Gilgamesh’s ridicule of Enkidu’s fears and his description of his bereaved plight, not to mention narratives of nightmares. Most of the comparisons to human beings, in fact, among the most original in the Epic, are made by characters in the Epic, rather than by the narrator.5 I offer two conclusions. First, I suggest that the use of similes in the Epic follows deliberate creative patterns of content, context, and distribution. The aspect of content that has attracted the most attention is the use of comparison to human beings to feminize Gilgamesh. I think that the evidence shows that this was intended not as a statement about Gilgamesh’s sexuality, as some critics have taken it, but rather to show that Gilgamesh the hero felt more deeply than other men, just as he was stronger and more adventurous than other men. Animal similes, on the other hand, take us onto familiar and well-trodden territory, so scarcely need further comment. Finally, it seems significant that material culture would be used for positive comparison in a poem that glorifies civilization, whereas nature for the most part would be used for negative comparison in a poem that says human beings should rise above nature. Distribution shows a tendency towards the well-known principle of parallelism that if a figure occurs once, a similar one will likely occur nearby, often on a related theme. Context suggests that similes were deemed characteristic of vivid, elevated speech in portrayal of character. Placing the fund of similes within the Gilgamesh Epic in the broader context of Akkadian literature, I would venture to say that they show greater literary development than, for example, similes in Enuma Elish or Atrahasis, but are less elaborate than similes in Akkadian works of the eighth century and later. I would suggest, further, that as individual similes grow in complexity in later Akkadian literature, they tend to lose the thematic contour of a creative pattern that appears in the Gilgamesh Epic, rather, they tend to stand alone.

5

See further Streck. Bildersprache, p. 229.

The Sign of the Flood and the Language of Signs in Babylonian Omen Literature Andrew R. George SOAS

The Babylonian Flood story contains a passage in which a god warns mankind of the coming Flood in cryptic terms. The passage appears in the Old Babylonian poem of Atram-¶asīs as the following two lines, passage (a): anāku ullîš ušaznanakku ¶i´bī i´´ūri bu-du-ri nūni (OB Atram-¶asīs III 34–35, Lambert–Millard 1969:88) ‘Later I shall myself rain down upon you (sing.) an abundance of birds, a profusion(?) of fish.’

This couplet terminates Enki’s instructions to Atram-¶asīs concerning the building of the boat in which he will survive the Flood, so it is certain that Enki is the god who sends this apparent promise of plenty. One word of the couplet remains a problem, i. e. bu-du-ri, but it is not the purpose of this paper to focus on this difficulty.1 The first-millennium text of this passage has not yet been recovered among the sources of the poem of Atram-¶asīs that have recently been published (Al-Rawi–George 1996; Böck–Márquez Rowe 1999–2000; Lambert 2005). However, a version of the Flood story very close to that handed down in Atram-¶asīs was at some time interpolated into the Epic of Gilgameš, where the couplet (a) is embedded in a longer passage. The text is not yet completely recovered but what survives is given here as passage (b): [urr]adma ana Apsî itti Ea bēlīya ašbāku ana kâšunu ušaznanakkunūši nu¶šamma [¶i´ib] i´´ūrāti puzur nūnīma i[l?-…] x x x x mešrâ ebūramma ina šēr kukkī ina līlâti ušaznanakkunūši šamūt kibāti (SB Gilgameš XI 42–47, George 2003:704–706) For different interpretations of bu-du-ri (profusion, reedshoot, object made of reed) see most conveniently Shehata 2001:136–137. 1

324

Sumerian and Akkadian Literature and Literary Language ‘[I shall] go down to the Apsû, to live with Ea, my master, he will rain down on you (pl.) plenty: [an abundance] of birds, a riddle(?) of fishes, […] … riches (at) harvest-time! In the morning he will rain down on you (pl.) bread-cakes, in the evening, a torrent of wheat.’

In this passage of three couplets Enki’s promise remains part of the god’s instructions, but has been transferred into the mouth of the Flood hero, for this is what Ea wants him to tell the elders of his city Uruk. To take account of the new context the verb ušaznan is now third person and the second-person singular dative suffix has been made plural. In the evolution of passage (a) into passage (b), Enki-Ea’s promise has grown from two lines to five, and in doing so has accrued greater capacity for cryptic expression. What interests us here is the language of Ea’s promise, particularly the last two lines, XI 46–47. These two lines seem to be more enigmatic than the three that precede them. They are repeated twice, with minor variants, as the plot develops, when they are written as single lines and are not accompanied by the other three lines (SB Gilgameš XI 88 // 91): ina šēr kukkī ina līlâti ušaznana (var. izannanu) šamūt kibāti. The compression of the couplet into a single line and its twofold repetition are probably poetic devices to emphasize the growing haste of the Flood hero’s frantic preparations as time runs out. The singling out of this part of the promise, and the omission of the other three lines, reaffirms the importance of what is said specifically in this line: “in the morning he will rain down bread-cakes, in the evening a shower of wheat.” The history of interpretation of these lines has been given by Alan Millard in an article published twenty years ago under the title “The Sign of the Flood” (Millard 1987). Millard observed that, as long ago as 1921, scholars such as Arthur Ungnad and then Carl Franck had supposed that the lines contained word-plays on kukku “bread-cake” and kibtu “wheat,” which allowed them to be interpreted as unfavourable outcomes, i. e. a prediction of disaster. He then showed that the particular grounds Franck cited in support of the puns turned out to be false, noted that the word-play theory was rejected by Wolfram von Soden, and concluded that the “word play has lost its basis.” Millard proposed another solution to the conundrum set by the sign of the flood. He observed that rains of wheat and other stuffs feature in the protases of omen texts, where they seem always to bode ill, and suggested that whoever expanded the text of Enki’s warning with the lines

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in question had a knowledge of the language of omens. “It is in this context the sign of the Flood makes best sense, as an omen, which those who heard or read the story would recognize as a rare presage portending events of unaccustomed magnitude” (Millard 1987:67). Millard concluded that “to some well-educated Babylonian scribes reading the story of the Flood, and perhaps to a few of the public hearing it, the sign Ea promised would not be totally strange, and the diviners might recognize that it heralded disaster.” For him the ambiguity lay not in word-play but “in the nature of the sign,” meaning that the portent of strange precipitation automatically signified disaster. The outlandish rain foretold in Ea’s promise was followed by the greatest catastrophe in human history, as the Babylonians saw it, and subsequently became an aetiology for the bad consequences of similar portents. There is new evidence bearing on this topic. It comes from a Middle Babylonian tablet of liver omens, now in a private collection. The pertinent entry is passage (c): manzāzu(KI.[GUB) ki-ma k]u-uk-ki den-líl a-na māti(KUR) a-na lemutti(ÚUL)ti ú-PšarQ (MS 3176/2:10, George forthcoming)

BE

‘If the “station” [is like a] bread-cake: Enlil will descend on the land with evil intent.’

In its mention of kukku, a “bread-cake” in the customary translation, this omen is a broad vindication of Millard’s general position, that Ea’s promise in the story of the Flood uses the language of omens. But in its detail it offers a different solution, for ill-boding precipitation is not at issue here. The manzāzu “station” is a crease or groove on the left lobe of the liver. Its absence was ominous, and so too was its presence in an abnormal configuration, when it was a locus at which a sign appeared. In passage (c) the abnormal configuration is the crease’s resemblance to a kukku. It happens that a first-millennium omen commentary tells us what shape is meant by the simile “like a kukku”. This is passage (d): manzāzu(NA) kīma(GIM) kukki(GÚG) appu(KIR4) u išdu(SUÚUŠ) giš kakka(TUKUL) ibnû(DÙ)-ma qabal(MURUB4)-šú zu-qúr (Manzāzu Commentary 1:106, Koch-Westenholz 2000:146–147) BE

‘ “If the ‘station’ is like a bread-cake”: (i. e. its) tip and base are pointed (lit. form weapon-marks) and its middle is peaked.’

The comments appended to the protasis by the commentator give a description of how a feature of the liver can resemble a kukku. It comes to

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a peak in the middle and a point at both ends. The peaked middle of the kukku is also noted in another omen commentary. This is passage (e), which elucidates a protasis describing the appearance of the šulmu, a crease on the other lobe of the liver in the vicinity of the gall-bladder: BE šulmu(SILIM) kīma(GIM) kukki(GÚG) qabal(MURUB4) šulmi(SILIM)

(Pān tākalti Commentary 3:28, Koch-Westenholz 2000:413)

zu-q[úr]

‘ “If the ‘well-being’ is like a bread-cake”: (i. e.) the “well-being’s” middle is peaked.’

In both cases the imagery signifies a mark on the liver that takes the form of a short ridge whose middle is higher than its ends. Returning to passage (c), here is a pairing of protasis and apodosis that very firmly makes the equation “kukku = Enlil plotting against mankind”. As all knew well, Enlil’s malevolence towards mankind was what brought about the series of disasters that punctuated early human history, culminating in the Flood. It seems that in divination the kukku could be a harbinger of the Flood, if not also of the other disasters born of Enlil’s antipathy to men. If Ea’s promise in Gilgameš is couched in the language of divination it is the word kukku that is the key portent, not the rain, and it signifies not just disaster, but the specific catastrophes inflicted on mankind by Enlil: plague, drought, famine and Flood. The Flood was the most terrible of these, and left an indelible mark on the Babylonian world-view. Despite Millard’s misgivings, word-play has remained alive as a strategy used by scholars to explain how Ea’s promise of bread-cakes and wheat signified a prediction of disaster. The false leads followed by Frank have been abandoned. Some have invoked the general notions of “double meanings and puns” (Dalley 1989:133; Tournay–Shaffer 1994:227) and “ambiguous language” (Foster 2001:84). Others have sought to apply to the problem the Babylonians’ own techniques of bilingual hermeneutics, using Sumerian equivalences and Akkadian cognates true and false to explore connections between kukku, kibtu and an evil outcome (Bottéro 1992a:186, fn. 3; George 2003:511–512; Maul 2005:186). The new evidence provided by passage (c) means that there is another avenue to be explored. The correspondence between kukku and Enlil’s wrath is there embedded in a semiological system of observation and prediction. The relationships of protases to apodoses in omen texts are one of the most elusive problems that attend any attempt at understanding the way in which Babylonian intellectuals configured their world. With some omens the connection was the result of empirical observation

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but an origin in reality cannot be attributed to the vast majority, for they were extrapolated as the compendia grew. It is reasonable to assume that protases and apodoses were elaborated according to a set of principles, a system of signs that may be called a Babylonian semiology. One such sign seems to be kukku = Enlil’s wrath. In the language of signs the word kukku in the protasis matches the anger of the divine ruler of the world in the apodosis. One may go so far as to say, in the terminology of semiologists, that the word kukku is the signifier, the bread-cake as a concrete object is the signified and the prediction associated with it (Enlil’s wrath) is a second referent. Some fundamental rules of the Babylonian system of signs as revealed by liver omen texts were identified by Ulla Jeyes (1980) and Ivan Starr (1983). Subsequently, in his study of Mesopotamian thought, Mogens Trolle Larsen identified three main elements that played a role in the relationship between protases and apodoses: (a) contrasting pairs or binary oppositions, (b) analogy, association and paranomasia, and (c) specific correspondences (Larsen 1987:213–214). Others have written specifically on what they have identified as analogy (Glassner 1984) and homophony (Greaves 2000). However, much of the system remains opaque. As Ann Guinan remarked in her study of left/right binary opposition in divination, “only rarely are we able to trace the conceptual link that reaches outside the world of appearances and apprehend the internal logic of a single omen” (Guinan 1996:5). The ancients themselves give us a little guidance. Some generalized associations between the portent and the observation are set out at the beginning of the extispicy series Multābiltu, now edited by Ulla Koch (Koch 2005:8–10). It is uncertain how far these statements represent extrapolation and how far they set out original principle. Late first-millennium commentaries reveal that Babylonian scholars were themselves intrigued by the internal logic of entries in omen compendia, especially those of the diagnostic series (George 1992). The search for “internal coherence” is a particular hallmark of commentaries from the Late Babylonian private libraries of Uruk and Nippur (Frahm 2007:248). The manifold and ingenious strategies the commentators employed do not throw up any clear pattern, and show that, whatever logic had originally generated the pairing of most protases and apodoses, these commentators struggled to understand it much as we do. One of the obvious and better-known ways in which protases and apodoses are related to each other is through phonetic similarity between

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the observation and the prediction. It is predictable but germane to quote in this connection an omen that has been much cited by writers on divination (YOS X, 24:9, see e. g. Cooper 1980; Bottéro 1992b:133): ina imitti martim pilšū šina palšūma šutebrû amūt Apišalîm ša Narām-Sîn ina pilšim ikmûšu “(if) there are two holes to the right of the gall-bladder and they go right through: the omen of the Apišalian, whom Narām-Sîn captured by tunnelling.” While some would see this omen as founded in paranomasia (word-play), I think these terms are too trivial. The Babylonians had a different understanding of linguistics than we have, and found connections between words where we find none (Lambert 1999). It is clear from the lexical list Nabnītu that phonological similarity was an important factor in native etymology (Finkel 1982:31–36). Accordingly, an equation like pilšū palšū = Apišal is not inconsequential; on the contrary it asserts that the two sides of the equation were linguistically cognate. However misconceived we find this etymology, the equation sets out a correspondence that was considered real and meaningful. From the point of view of semiology, it is important to note that it is the word pilšu in its written or spoken form that generates Apišal in the apodosis. In the language of semiology, in this omen the signifier produces the sign. Babylonian scholars evidently set great store on making connections between words in this way, so it is reasonable to presume that they employed their understanding of etymology in generating pairs of protases and apodoses, as omen compendia developed, as well as in the practice of hermeneutics. The double meanings, puns and word-plays cited by scholars attempting to relate kukku and kibtu in SB Gilgameš XI 46–47 to evil outcomes can be defended if they rest on equations that a Babylonian would find meaningful. It is very possible, therefore, that pseudo-etymology does underlie the pairing of the observation (Ea’s promise) with the outcome (Enlil’s flood). There is another factor in the equation, however, and this is figurative interpretation. Figurative interpretations can be applied to the two basic structural elements of omen protases and apodoses, (a) things observed or predicted and (b) processes observed or predicted. These two elements may be called respectively idea and function. As we shall see, figurative interpretation of an idea produces a symbolic relationship between two things; figurative interpretation of a function produces an analogous relationship between two processes. Symbolism in divination is explicit in the diviner’s apparel and ritual apparatus, for the end of the text about the first diviner of legend, King

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Enmeduranki of Sippar, reveals that these mundane items were explicitly identified with divine forces (Lambert 1998:150–1533, ll. 78–130). In omen texts figurative associations are expressed by both symbolism and analogy. These are clearly seen to operate in some omens of malformed births. While Erle Leichty urged caution in identifying associations between observations and predictions in these omens (Leichty 1970:6–7), some are self-evident. In SB Izbu XVI, for example, the foetus’s intestines symbolize property, for their exposure to sight signifies the vulnerability of property (ll. 39′, 71′: carted off by the enemy) and their absence signifies a lack of property (l. 43′: famine and impoverishment). The same association already occurs as an analogy in an Old Babylonian forerunner, YOS X, 56 i 1–3, where intestines that spill out the foetus’s belly signify the liquidation of assets, behaviour motivated by famine and impoverishment (Leichty 1970:201, read in l. 3 [b]u-š[a-ša a-na ma-¶]i-ri-im ú-ši-i´´e “(the land) will send its possessions to market”). Symbolism and analogy were principles that already informed the earliest omen compendia. The operation of symbolism in extispicy is a topic discussed briefly by Ulla Jeyes, who observed that “all fortuitous marks … symbolize something. The hole was associated with death, the ‘Weapon’ with warfare, the ‘Foot’ with the approaching enemy, and the ‘Wish’ with a demand from the god” (Jeyes 1980:25). These are what Larsen called a “set of correspondences between specific features of the liver and phenomena in the physical world” (Larsen 1987:214); the ominous characteristics of these features had analogous effects on their counterparts in the larger world. Jeyes concluded that a “theory of symbolism can explain the connection between protasis and apodosis.” The example she chose to illustrate the connection was an entry in an Old Babylonian compendium: [MAŠ e]lēnum bāb ekallim šīlum šeli wā´i abullim nēšum idâk “[If] there is a hole gouged(?) above the Palace Gate [part of the liver], a lion will kill someone who goes out of the city gate” (YOS X, 26 ii 32, cf. Jeyes 1980: 32, fn. 73). The hole in the Palace Gate means death in the city gate, so there is a double equation of ideas: location (Palace Gate = city gate) and mark (hole = death). From the point of view of semiology, concrete objects, location and mark, generate the apodosis. In this omen it is the signified, not the signifier, that produces the sign. If features of the liver and marks on them could have symbolic meanings for diviners, then it is not so improbable to suggest that the shape of these marks might also be interpreted by symbolism. On occasion this does indeed seem to be so, as can readily be seen from two entries in the

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same omen text that gave us passage (c). In passage (f ) the correlation between the observed shape of the “station” in the protasis and the prediction cited by the apodosis is very clear: [išid? manzā]zi kīma ziqit zuqaqīpi ikpup rubâ zuqaqīpu izaqqi[ssu] (MS 3176/2:15)

BE

‘If [the base(?) of the “station”] curves around like a scorpion’s sting: the prince will be stung by a scorpion.’

The curved crease known as the “station” prefigures a scorpion’s sting because it resembles one. In passage (g) the correlation is only slightly less easy to uncover: [BE šulm]u kīma Puskari ana idi┐ m[arti ittab]šīma ana šapal marti iš-〈pi-il〉 rīdi usurti (MS 3176/2:33) ‘[If the “well]-being” [has grown] like a crescent beside the gall[bladder] and reaches down to the bottom of the gall-bladder: (it signifies) a driving into encirclement.’

Here the crease known as the šulmu makes a loop that prefigures a military manoeuvre to trap the enemy. In both omens there is a clear figurative relationship between the portent and the prediction that rests in the first on an equation of ideas (symbolism) and in the second on an equation of functions (analogy). On the topic of figurative language in omens, two points of caution have to be made. First, while some similes can be shown to have a symbolic interpretation, like the “station” that curves “like a scorpion’s sting” in passage (f ), others do not seem to produce meaning in this way, at least, as far as we can see. Many similes were perhaps for illustrative purposes only, and without symbolic value. Second, there is no overall consistency in the symbolism of shapes. Passage (c) establishes a connection between a shape like a kukku and Enlil’s wrath. Other protases that liken portentous objects to a kukku occur in Šumma padānu I 23–24 (ed. KochWestenholz 2000:196), where a kukku-shaped “path” signifies a captured city, and Šumma izbu XVII 52′ (ed. Leichty 1970:169), where the apodosis is broken. It seems that, unlike the symbolism of fortuitous marks noted by Jeyes, the symbolism of shape and form was less thoroughly worked out in the omen corpus. In her exploration of divinatory rhetoric in terrestrial omens Ann Guinan found that “divinatory meaning emerges from minimal rhetorical deviations when omens are integrated with each other in a restricted context, such as the same tablet” (Guinan 1989:232).

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The meaning is determined locally. Thus a kukku-shaped mark did not of necessity signify Enlil’s hostility to mankind. But it did so in the company of the other omens that describe the manzāzu in terms of similes (MS 3176/2:1–16). In the light of the prevalence of figurative association in omens I feel that the connection between the kukku “bread-cake” and Enlil’s wrath in the omen passage (c) and SB Gilgameš XI (b) is just as likely to derive from a symbolic interpretation as from a word-play or pseudo-etymology. In other words, the sign could have been produced by the signified and not by the signifier. But I can get no further, because I do not know the Babylonians’ language of signs. From the point of view of the Babylonian intellectual, perhaps, a distinction between kukku the signifier and kukku the signified would not be a major one, for both figurative and etymological speculation were essential components of Babylonian semiology. Eckart Frahm’s important new study of Babylonian commentaries has found that figurative interpretation was used much less than graphic and phonetic hermeneutic techniques (etymography and etymology), but was nevertheless a technique employed in the decoding of signs (Frahm 2007:52). The same techniques were certainly employed in the codification of signs in omen literature, where, as we have seen, symbolic interpretation is everywhere visible. An important point emerges: in seeking connections between omen protases and apodoses, modern scholars will most profitably approach the problem if they bring to it the same knowledge of Babylonian semiology—the language of signs—as their ancient counterparts had. At the moment, that knowledge is only partly recovered; hence the frustrating struggles described in this paper. The last question that arises is the question of date. Which came first, passage (b) of SB Gilgameš XI or passage (c), the entry in the Middle Babylonian omen text? Did the omen tradition assimilate a literary motif or did the literary composition adopt a divinatory motif ? The omen text is difficult to date more exactly than Middle Babylonian. More is known of the history of the Flood story, and one can begin with passage (b). Passage (b) is a speech within a speech, for Ea is telling the Flood hero what to say. In fact, it is a speech within a speech within a speech, because in the poem of Gilgameš the whole story of the Flood is narrated by Ūtanapišti, the former Atra-¶asīs.2 Thus Ūta-napišti tells Gilgameš what Ea 2

As we now know from a newly published LB fragment of the poem of Atram-¶asīs, the name Ūta-napišti was given to the Flood hero only when he was

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told him to tell the elders. A comparable narrative development can be seen in the episode in which Gilgameš dreams of Enkidu, which is part of the poem’s narrative in the Old Babylonian Pennsylvania tablet (OB II col. i) but reported in a speech of the prostitute Šam¶at in the first-millennium text (SB I). However, it is now clear that these two examples of narrative complexity were introduced into the poem at different times (George 2007). The history of the evolution of the poem was clearly very complex. This means that we have to be wary of dating the expansion of the single couplet (a), from which kukku is absent, to the triple couplet (b), in which kukku is present. It is not yet possible to place in time the evolution of the couplet known to us as OB Atram-¶asīs III 34–35 to the triple couplet known to us as SB Gilgameš XI 43–47. The change could have occurred before the Flood story was adapted to Gilgameš, during that adaptation, or (less probably) later. So the longer version of the passage, with its reference to kukku, may be original to a version of the poem of Atram-¶asīs, or it may not. It may then have antedated the omen text, or it may not. In short, the chronological relationship of passages (b) and (c) cannot be determined from the history of the texts in which they appear. If literary history leads to a dead end, there is still room for speculation based on more circumstantial evidence. Sîn-lēqi-unninni, and others like him, were scholars. To judge from the distinguished example of Esangil-kīn-apli in the eleventh century, the editorial work of standardizing texts was carried out by very learned men indeed (Finkel 1988; Lambert 2005:xv–xviii; Al-Rawi–George 2006:54–55; Frahm 2007:255–261). It would fit what we know of the background of scholars like him, that texts they standardized should bear the imprint of their education and learning. It thus seems more likely to me that the omen of the kukku and Enlil’s wrath informed the expansion of passage (a) into passage (b) in the Flood story, rather than that the omen (c) was itself generated by a knowledge of the kukku motif in the Flood story. Millard noted that the use of divinatory language in the passage of Gilgameš brought to the Flood story a logical detail that contrasts the Flood hero’s knowledge with the ignorance of the townsfolk: “to Ut-natranslated into an immortal (Lambert 2005:198, v 17): at-t[a-m]a Izi-sù-ud-ra lu-u UD-napišti(ZI)tim [šùm-ka] “You were Ziusudra, but let [your name] (now) be Ūtanapišti.” In SB Gilgameš the Flood hero is called Atra-¶asīs in the narrative of the Flood itself (SB XI 49, 197), but is otherwise Ūta-napišti. This is a consistent application of the same idea, that Ūta-napišti came by that name only after the Flood.

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pishtim’s doomed countrymen the sudden outpouring of heavenly bounty would not carry any baleful message … for only he had learnt the secret plan of the gods” (1987:68–69). More specifically one might add that Atram-¶asīs, the antediluvian king of Šuruppak, was learned in the art of reading the language of signs, as his name “Surpassing-Wise” suggests, while the townsfolk were not. In ancient Mesopotamia divination was jealously guarded knowledge, and the illiterate were not privy to it. By contrasting the Flood hero’s understanding of the language of signs with his people’s ignorance of it, the learned editor responsible for interpolating the kukku motif into the Flood story implicitly claimed Atram-¶asīs as a fellow scholar. In doing so he projected on to the remote, mythical past a Babylonian intellectual’s chauvinistic view of the importance of scholarship in general and divination in particular. This is fully in accord with the Babylonian myths of the Seven Sages and the divine origin of learning, and specifically with the diviners’ own tradition that their secret language of signs was imparted by the gods Šamaš and Adad to another antediluvian king, Enmeduranki of Sippar. References Al-Rawi–George 1996 Al-Rawi–George 2006 Böck–Márquez Rowe 1999–2000 Bottéro 1992a Bottéro 1992b Cooper 1980

Dalley 1989 Finkel 1982 Finkel 1988

Foster 2001

Al-Rawi, F. N. H.; George, A. R. Tablets from the Sippar library VI. Atra-¶asīs. Iraq 58:147–190. Al-Rawi, F. N. H.; George, A. R. Tablets from the Sippar library XIII. Enūma Anu Ellil XX. Iraq 68:23–57. Böck, B.; Márquez Rowe, I. MM 818: A New LB Fragment of Atra-¶asīs I. AuOr 17–18:167–177. Bottéro, J. L’épopée de Gilgameš, le grand homme qui ne voulait pas mourir. Paris. Bottéro, J. Mesopotamia: Writing, Reasoning, and the Gods (transl. Z. Bahrani and M. Van De Mieroop). Chicago. Cooper, J. S. Apodotic Death and the Historicity of “Historical” Omens. Alster, B. (ed.). Death in Mesopotamia. Papers Read at the XXVIe Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale. Copenhagen. Pp. 99–105. Dalley, S. The Myths of Mesopotamia. Oxford. Finkel, I. L. The Series SIG7.ALAN = Nabnītu (MSL 16). Rome. Finkel, I. L. Adad-apla-iddina, Esagil-kīn-apli, and the series SA.GIG. Leichty, E.; deJong Ellis, M.; Gerardi, P. (eds.). A Scientific Humanist: Studies in Memory of Abraham Sachs. Philadelphia. Pp. 143–159. Foster, B. R. The Epic of Gilgamesh. New York.

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Frahm 2007

George 1992

George 2003 George 2007 George forthcoming Glassner 1984

Greaves 2000

Guinan 1989

Guinan 1996 Jeyes 1980 Koch 2005

Koch-Westenholz 2000

Lambert 1998

Lambert 1999

Lambert 2005

Frahm, E. Origins of Interpretation. An Introduction to Babylonian and Assyrian Text Commentaries. Unpublished Habilitationsschrift. Philosophische Fakultät der RuprechtKarls-Universität Heidelberg. George, A. R. Babylonian Texts from the Folios of Sidney Smith. Part Two: Prognostic and Diagnostic Omens. RA 85:137–167. George, A. R. The Babylonian Gilgamesh Epic: Introduction, Critical Edition and Cuneiform Texts. 2 vols. Oxford. George, A. R. The Civilizing of Ea-Enkidu: An Unusual Tablet of the Babylonian Gilgameš Epic. RA 101:59–80. George, A. R. Babylonian Divinatory Texts in the Schøyen Collection. Glassner, J. J. Pour un lexique des termes et figures analogiques en usage dans la divination mésopotamienne. JA 272:15–46. Greaves, S. W. Ominous Homophony and Portentous Puns in Akkadian Omens. Noegel, S. B. (ed.). Puns and Pundits. Word Play in the Hebrew Bible and Ancient Near Eastern Literature. Bethesda. Pp. 103–113. Guinan, A. K. The Perils of High Living: Divinatory Rhetoric in Šumma Ālu. Behrens, H.; Loding, D.; Roth, M. T. (eds.). DUMU-E2-DUB-BA-A. Studies in Honor of Åke W. Sjöberg. Philadelphia. Pp. 227–235. Guinan, A. K. Left/Right Symbolism in Mesopotamian Divination. SAAB 10:5–10. Jeyes, U. The Act of Extispicy in Ancient Mesopotamia: An Outline. Assyriological Miscellanies 1:13–32. Koch, U. S. Secrets of Extispicy. The Chapter Multābiltu of the Babylonian Extispicy Series and Ni´irti bārûti Texts Mainly from Aššurbanipal’s Library (AOAT 326). Münster. Koch-Westenholz, U. Babylonian Liver Omens. The Chapters manzāzu, padānu and pān tākalti of the Babylonian Extispicy Series Mainly from Aššurbanipal’s Library (CNIP 25). Copenhagen. Lambert, W. G. The Qualifications of Babylonian Diviners. Maul, S. M. (ed.). Festschrift für Rykle Borger zu seinem 65. Geburtstag am 24. Mai 1994 (CM 10). Groningen. Pp. 141–158. Lambert, W. G. Babylonian Linguistics. Van Lerberghe, K.; Voet, G. (eds.). Languages and Cultures in Contact. At the Crossroads of Civilizations in the Syro-Mesopotamian Realm (CRRAI 42). Leuven. Pp. 17–31. Lambert, W. G. No. 42. Atra-¶asīs. Spar, I.; Lambert, W. G. (eds.). Cuneiform Texts in the Metropolitan Museum of Art. 2. Literary and Scholastic Texts of the First Millennium B. C. New York–Turnhout. Pp. 195–201.

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Lambert, W. G.; Millard, A. R. Atra-¶asīs. The Babylonian Story of the Flood. Oxford. Larsen, M. T. The Mesopotamian Lukewarm Mind: Reflections on Science, Divination and Literacy. RochbergHalton, F. (ed.). Language, Literature, and History: Philological and Historical Studies Presented to Erica Reiner (AOS 67). New Haven. Pp. 203–225. Leichty, E. The Omen Series Šumma Izbu (TCS 4). Locust Valley. Maul, S. M. Das Gilgamesch Epos. Munich. Millard, A. R. The Sign of the Flood. Iraq 49:63–69. Shehata, D. Annotierte Bibliographie zum altbabylonischen Atram-¶asīs-Mythos Inūma ilū awīlum (GAAL 3). Göttingen. Starr, I. The Rituals of the Diviner (BiMes 12). Malibu. Tournay, R.; Shaffer, A. L’épopée de Gilgamesh (LAPO 15). Paris.

You Recite the Incantation “I am a pure man”: qabû, manû or dabābu? Cynthia Jean FNRS–ULB

In rituals, verba dicendi, i. e. declarative verbs, introducing an incantation, a formula or a prayer, are mainly qabû, manû and dabābu. Others verbs describe how to deal with the recitations but they are rather technical or specific to certain performances. We can actually: – throw an incantation (SÌ / nadû “to throw, to cast”1); – murmur an incantation (la¶āšu), for example, in the ears of gods in the mīs pî ritual or in a straw for ghost-induced hearing troubles; – sing a cultic prayer (different verbs meaning “to sing,” “to say in lament,” etc.), especially in rituals involving lamentation-priests (kalû) or singers (nāru); – write an incantation or an apotropaic formula (ša¢āru), usually on amulets or on the hips of apotropaic figurines.

My concern goes to verbs meaning “to recite, to say an incantation.” The point of this discussion is – to determine if these verbs were interchangeable or not; – to find out if information can be obtained from the chosen verb about the person supposed to recite, the type of incantation, the mode of recitation, etc.

Some assyriologists have already pinpointed the problem,2 usually within a limited corpus in the comments of an edition. As usual in this kind of topic, the synchronic and diachronic study of these three verba dicendi is hampered by the cuneiform system itself (verbs written with logograms vs. written in full) and by a tendency to maintain 1

The verb SÌ is quite uncommon and often used in connection with gods reciting specific incantations, in the expression nam-šub eriduki-ga sì “You throw/ recite the namšub-incantation of Eridu” (cf. the Akkadian translation šipat Eridu tanaddi). As Finkel pointed out, the expression is surprising (Finkel 1980:51). 2 Reiner 1958 passim (she does not give her interpretation but purposely makes different translations for these verbs); Caplice 1974a:12–13; Maul 1994:67–69.

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tradition in ritual matters, especially in written records. We may wonder how far the vocabulary and the orthography used in the ritual instructions are meaningful. For example, in Neo-Assyrian letters, qabû is hardly written logographically, but is frequently spelled DUG4.GA in rituals from Assurbanipal’s library. Moreover, determining the grammatical person is sometimes tricky. Much attention has been focused until now on identifying who is talking in the rituals. The identification of the second person and the third person in rituals will not be discussed here. The performer, usually the exorcist (āšipu) but the lamentation-priest (kalû) or the physician as well (asû), will be referred to as “the specialist”. The person benefiting from the ritual will be referred to as “the patient” in its broadest sense. After gathering a bunch of occurrences,3 it is quite obvious that verba dicendi in rituals are not used at random. Several texts use two or three of them in close sentences or one in contrast with another (see Appendix below). Example from a ghost ritual:4 Lines 13–15 ana IGI dUTU u MUL.MEŠ U4.3.KÁM ana mu¶-¶i (eras.) im-ta--an-nu J ÉN GIDIML mim+ma lem-nu iš-tu U4-mi an-ni-i ina SU! NENNI A NENNI ZI-ta5 šu-´a-a-ta ¢ar-da-Jta u kuš-šu-daL-ta (eras.)(...) Lines 17–19 ina U4.3.KÁM ina U4.GURUM.MA KEŠDA ana IGI dUTU JKEŠDAL L LÚ.GIG NU ÍL-ma ana IGI dUTU ki-a-am tu-šad-bab-Jšú J ÉNL dUTU mu-tál dA-nun-na-JkiL e-tel dÍ-gi-gi mas-su-ú ´i-ru mut-tarru-Ju te-ni-ši-eL-ti (…) Lines 36–37 [ki-a-am tu]-šad-bab-šu ana DUG GAR-an-šu-ma tu-tam-ma-šu [niš KI-tim lu-u ta-ma-ta5] niš AN-JeL lu-u ta-ma-ta5 niš dUTU lu-u ta-mata5 DUG4.GA-ma KÁ-šú BAD-¶i L. 13–15. ‘Before Šamaš and the stars, for three days, he5 repeatedly recites over it.

3 This paper is a preliminary study on the use of declarative verbs in rituals. The corpus studied is not exhaustive but offers a representative selection of incantations and rituals: bīt rimki, dream rituals, foundation rituals, ghost rituals, ÚUL.BA.ZI.ZI, incantations for babies (“Baby-Beschwörungen”), kalû rituals, Lamaštu incantations, Maqlû, Mīs pî, Namburbi, ŠÀ.ZI.GA, Šēp lemutti, Šurpu, Utukkū Lemnūtu and war rituals. 4 BAM 323 and duplicates, cf. Scurlock 2006, text 226. 5 “He” refers to a performer and “NN son of NN” to the patient.

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Incantation: “Ghost (or) whatever is evil—from this day forward, you are extracted from the body of NN son of NN; you are expelled, you are driven away and banished (...)”. L. 17–19. On the third day, in the late afternoon, you set up an offering table before Šamaš. The patient raises the figurine and then you have him say as follow before Šamaš: Incantation: “Šamaš, noblest of the Anunnaki, lordliest of the Igigi; august leader, ruler of the people (...)” L. 36–37. You have him speak thus. You put it (the figurine) in a jar and then you make it swear. You say: “By earth may you swear, by heaven may you swear, by Šamaš may you swear” and then you close its mouth.’

The following observations can be made from this corpus: 1) In duplicates the same verb is used,6 maybe a consequence of ..strong scribal traditions in the transmission of rituals; 2) The recitation’s introductory verb (“you say thus” before an in..cantation or a prayer) is, in most cases, the same as the verb of ..the concluding formula (“you say this three times” or “after you ..said this”); 3) What we can say for sure is that the choice of the verb is not ..linked with: – the “language” of the recitation (Sumerian, Akkadian, foreign words or mumbo jumbo); – the origin of the tablet (no clear-cut difference between Assyria .and Babylonia); – the datation of the text (which is never certain but we may see the different meanings of qabû, manû and dabābu were still vivid .at the first millennium, e. g. in written Neo-Assyrian dialect, as .they are used in letters from scholars7).

6 In the corpus studied here, few exceptions were found. See for example the Aššur Dream Ritual Compendium IV:30 (Butler 1998:287): three duplicates have DUG4.GA-ma but STT 275 (with a slightly different ritual) has JŠIDL. Another occurrence is in a namburbi dealing with a howling dog: KAR 64:23 has DUG4.GA but two duplicates have tu-šad-bab-šu (Maul 1994:315–316). 7 For dabābu, see SAA X, 2:8–9 (letter of the chief scribe Nabû-zēru-lēšir about the substitution of the king ritual): the substitution king and queen will repeat a prayer before Šamaš one after the other (ina ba-at-ta-ta-a-e ma-¶ar dUTU ú-sa-ad-biib-šú-nu). For manû, see SAA X, 238rev.:4+10 (from the chief exorcist Mardukšākin-šumi, in an explanation of a ritual against demons and epilepsy), or SAA X, 321 passim (from the chief physician Urad-Nanaya, in an explanation about a ritual to stop nasal haemorrhage).

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Dabābu The less frequent and most technical of the three verba dicendi is dabābu. In general, the different meanings of dabābu give the idea of elaborate discussions, loud talking and direct speech8 (to talk, to recite, to discuss a topic, to plead in court, to protest, …). The Š-stem conveys the idea of “putting somebody up to something” (to get somebody—especially a woman—to talk, to make somebody recite, to make somebody plead a case or to cause plotting). In his study on the namburbi incantations, R. Caplice noticed the verb dabābu was used to introduce recitations but also in the expression “to express what is on one’s mind.”9 mala libbašu ´abtu idabbub amata ša libbišu idabbub ma!adāti ī´āti ina libbišu idabbub

‘He says everything that is captured in his heart’ ‘He says the word of his heart’ ‘He says much or little from his heart’

This expression10 is clearly devoted to the patient praying with his own words (i. e. not quoting a formulaic prayer) but Caplice got however the impression that within the namburbi corpus, the two verba dicendi— qabû and dabābu—were used interchangeably, while manû referred to a more solemn mode of recitation (“to intone”). Occurrences from a larger corpus of rituals show that qabû and dabābu are definitely not used in the same context. Usually written in full 11 (which leaves no doubt about the grammatical person), dabābu is found in both G- and Š-stems and refers exclusively to recitations which are not carried out by the specialists but by the patient himself, sometimes described as NA.BI, LÚ.GIG or LUGAL. The G-stem refers to a recitation just

8

The root DBB is from the Hamito-Semitic *dob “speak, call” which gives *dub (“speak”) in the Semitic subgroup, with a reduplication in the Akkadian dabābu (HSED 165, No. 724). This root *dob is formed from the onomatopoeic base *db-, whose first use (hitting noises such as slaps, beatings or drippings) is connected with actions as murmuring, slandering, speaking, etc. (DRS). 9 Caplice 1974a:13. 10 Dabābu alone can have this meaning as well, see SpTU 2, 21:14 (Butler 1998:402–403). 11 There are a few exceptions, written DU11.DU11: SpTU 2, 21:14 (Butler 1998:402), KAR 72rev.:2 (Ebeling 1954, text 13); LKA 112rev.:10 (Maul 1994:334); STT I, 64:18 (Maul 1994:317; other duplicates have the verb written in full); A 183:5′ (Maul 1994:230; dupl. written in full); 80-7-19,88:3′ (Maul 1994:278); DT 80:8 (Maul 1994:283); A 3471:2′+14′ (Caplice 1974a:346–347); Farber 1989 § 42:25˚.

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made by the patient12 or is used in the expression mentioned above (“to express what is on one’s mind”). The Š-stem at the second person indicates the specialist will have the patient recite after him.13 All kinds of recitations are introduced by dabābu: prayers, one-sentence formulas or incantations labelled as ÉN. In which way the patient had to repeat the words remains unclear (informal or solemn tone). The expression “to express what is on one’s mind” would suggest a kind of conversation-like intonation, but the ritual instructions frequently mention the patient had to kneel before repeating the recitation, a ritual gesture which would suggest an attitude of humility towards the gods. In royal rituals or in magical protections in warfare, the king has to repeat some formulas or prayers, also introduced by dabābu, as in namburbi rituals to protect the royal army (horses, troops or the king’s chariot)14 or during a ritual performed by a kalû, in which the king repeats eršemmû-laments.15 Some texts clearly show the opposition between the person in charge of the recitation by using the verbs dabābu and manû: in the bīt rimki ritual, in each of the seven “houses,” G-stem forms of dabābu are used for the king’s recitation, while manû is for the exorcist’s16 or in some parts of the ritual tablet of Šurpu, using Š-stem forms of dabābu for the patient and manû for the performer.17 12

See for example, the namburbi KAR 64:34 (+ duplicates; Maul 1994:317, referring to an incantation to Šamaš) or the ritual dealing with ghosts LKA 84rev.:6 (Scurlock 2006, text 217, referring to an incantation to Šamaš). In both texts, compare with the Š-stem form of dabābu, introducing the same incantation. 13 See e. g. in the namburbi corpus: KAR 72:20 (apotropaic formula; Ebeling 1954, text 13), as opposed to tu-šaq-ba-šú (l. 19); 80-7-19,88:23′ (incantation to Šamaš; Maul 1994:280); 91-5-9,155rev.:7 = Rm 510:7′ (incantation before the stars; Maul 1994:260, line x+21), or in rituals dealing with ghosts: with a sentence addressed to the dead, CT 23, 15-22+:67′ (Scurlock 2006, text 21); with an incantation (ÉN) to Ea: LKA 88:26+28 (Scurlock 2006, text 115); with an incantation (ÉN) to Šamaš: KAR 267:9 (Scurlock 2006, text 119), LKA 84:9 (Scurlock 2006, text 217; compare with G-stem rev.:6) or BAM 323:18+36 (Scurlock 2006, text 226). 14 See e. g. 82-3-23,1:27 (referring to an invocation in Sumerian; Caplice 1970, text 37) or Th. 1905-4-9,88:23 (referring to two ÉN-incantations, one in Sumerian, one in Akkadian; Thureau-Dangin 1924:131 = Maul 1994:391). 15 See e. g. AO 6472rev.:19+23 (Thureau-Dangin 1921:38). 16 Læssøe 1955:32. 17 Šurpu I, 8–10: [ÉN] áš-ši GI.IZI.LÁ pu-¢ur lim-nu [LÚ].GIG tu-šad-bab ÉN lu pa¢-ra DINGIR.MEŠ GAL.MEŠ [ÉN] ma-mit DÙ.A.BI LÚ.IŠIB ŠID-nu ‘The incantation “I hold the torch, release from evil” you will have the patient speak (after you). But the incantation “Be it released great gods” (and) the incantation “Any Oath” the in-

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Manû and qabû The use of these two verbs is more complex. Their general meanings do not help to make a difference between them in the ritual texts. Qabû has its basic meaning “to say,” sometimes with the spoken words quoted, and manû in a ritual context means “to recite.”18 At this stage I could not find systematic rules explaining the use of qabû and manû. Each long ritual has both of them, appearing frequently in closely related parts of the text and sometimes used in contrast, hence the conclusion their use should be consistent. Unlike dabābu, the verbs qabû and manû do not give a clue about the person involved in the recitation. Both can concern the specialist or the patient, even if we can get the impression we identify the one or the other because the recitation is pronounced at the first grammatical person. Sometimes the first person clearly refers to the specialist, usually the exorcist (“I am the pure man of Eridu”) but sometimes to the patient (“I am NN son of NN,” “I am constantly terrified,” “my head,” etc.). In the latter option, the identification of the person talking is unsure as it was highly probable the patient was quoting or repeating after the specialist. As Caplice pointed out,19 we may assume that all patients were not able to read the recitations on the specialist’s tablet, or even to know these recitations by heart. The type of recitation does not seem to call for a specific verb. Invocations to gods or to ritual arrangements (Kultmittelbeschwörungen) and first person incantations are introduced by both verbs. The adverb kīam is more frequent with qabû, in the expression kīam DUG4.GA “you say thus,” just followed by the words to recite, but kīam is also found with manû. We have at least a few rules, but they are guidelines only, as many occurrences do not fit into these observations. Manû, often written in his logographic form ŠID(-nu), seems more widely used in some contexts: cantation-priest will recite himself ’ (transl. Reiner 1958:11). Also in Šurpu I 16–17 or in the namburbi KAR 223:17 (manû) + rev.:8 tu-šad-bab-šú (Ebeling 1931:5–8). 18 The root MN! is from the Hamito-Semitic *man- “know, test” giving the pattern *mVnVw, with a double meaning “test, try” and “count” (hence the Akkadian manû “to count, to recount events, to deliver, to assign”). The base *mVn is used in the Semitic subgroup for intellectual activities in general (HSED 373, No. 1721). The root QB! is from the Hamito-Semitic *qab- “speak, shout,” giving *qVb “say” in the Semitic subgroup (HSED 333, No. 1528). 19 Caplice 1974a:13.

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1) Introduction of recitations labelled as “ÉN” (šiptu “incantation”) ..not using the first person (also with šu’illakku, ki’utukku); 2) Consecration of tools, potions, ritual objects, persons or places, ..to activate them in the magical sphere.

Qabû, often written in his logographic form DUG4.GA(-ma), is particularly used in connection with 1) Short sentences or formulas: –. expressions to repeat such as Ea īpuš Ea ipšur ‘Ea did it, Ea undid it’; –. short prayers such as ‘O Šamaš, propitiate their divine wrath’; –. murmured words (li¶šu-recitations); 2) Deconsecration and negative statements to avert troubles (e. g. at …the end of the mīs pî ritual, the craftsmen deny having carved the . . statue); 3) Reference to divine words or incantations given by the gods …(purussû “dream oracles,” “say the incantation of DN”).

Some texts use the Š-stem of qabû and manû to express a meaning similar to the Š-stem of dabābu.20 + Saying an apotropaic formula, qabû in connection with dabābu, both in the Š-stem: KAR 72:18–20 (Ebeling 1954, text 13)21 (NA.BI …) ki-a-am tu-šaq-ba-šú ÚUL ISKIM an[-ni-ti] šu-li-iq-ma 3-šú tu-šad-bab-šú ‘(This man …) you will have him say “Be the evil of this ominous sign be cleared off”. Three times you will have him recite (this).’

+ Saying a prayer, the Š-stem of manû in connection with qabû: BM 121037:13′– rev.:1 (Caplice 1971, text 65) ana IGI dXXX dEN.ZU dNanna-ru šu-pu-JúL 3-šú tu-šam-na-šu JKI.ZA.ZA ùL ana IGI KEŠDA BI kám DUG4.GA DINGIR.MEŠ GAL.MEŠ li-nam-mi-ru-ka ‘You will have him recite three times before Sîn, Enzu and glorious Nannar. He prostrates himself and says thus before the cultic arrangement “May the great gods make you bright…” (prayer goes on).’

“Deviant cases,” if I may say so, are difficult to explain. We can hardly detect the impact of canonization in rituals, the adding or re-writing of 20 Cf. occurrences in the Š-stem of manû (CAD M1 227) and qabû (CAD Q 41), always written phonetically. 21 See also A 183:5′–9′ = LKU 34:3′–5′ (Maul 1994:230).

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some lines, maybe with a vocabulary closer to the spoken dialect. Many questions will probably remain unanswered, because we lack information and systematic studies about facts such as the categories of incantations or the modes of intonation (informal, solemn, aloud or under one’s breath, antiphonic system, scansion…). Appendix: Pairs of Verba dicendi 1) manû / qabû + Mīs pî – Nineveh Ritual Tablet, l. 59a manû – l. 60 qabû (Walker–Dick 2001:41) – Nineveh Ritual Tablet, l. 162 manû – l. 164 qabû (Walker–Dick 2001:49–50) – Babylonian Ritual Text, l. 10–15 qabû and manû alternatively (Walker– Dick 2001:71) – Babylonian Ritual Text, l. 52 qabû – l. 53 manû (Walker–Dick 2001:73) + Dream rituals – Aššur Dream Ritual Compendium IV 22, 27, 31, 33 qabû – l. 25–26 manû (Butler 1998:284–287) – Ritual to obtain a purussû, l. 81c manû – l. 84 qabû (Butler 1998:359–360) + Namburbi corpus – LKA 108, l. 3 qabû – l. 7, 9 manû (Ebeling 1956, text 31) – LKA 117, l. 2 qabû – l. 7 manû (Ebeling 1956, text 32) – K 9789+, rev.:6′ qabû – rev.:13′–18′ manû (Maul 1994:212) – K 3909+ and dupl., l. 10 manû – l. 11 qabû (Caplice 1971, text 35) – KAR 38 + dupl., l. 70 qabû (2 occ.) – l. 74 manû (2 occ.) (Maul 1994:427–428) – K 2773+, l. 18, 26 manû – l. 20, 26 qabû (Maul 1994:447) – K 157+, l. 30′, 46′ qabû – l. 33′, 48′ manû (Maul 1994:358–359) – “Universalnamburbi”, l. 83 manû – l. 78, 85 qabû (Maul 1994:490) + Ritual of the kalû, VAT 8022rev., l. 1 manû – rev., l. 2 qabû (Thureau-Dangin 1921:22) + Foundation rituals (Ambos 2004), passim + Ghost rituals (Scurlock 2006), passim + Šēp lemutti, l. 150, 158 manû – l. 158, 162, 163 qabû (Wiggermann 1992:12) 2) dabābu / manû + Dream rituals – Ritual to obtain a purussû, l. 68 manû + dabābu (Butler 1998:356) + Namburbi corpus – IV R2 60rev., l. 11 dabābu – rev., l. 13 manû (Ebeling 1955, text 20) + Šurpu I, l. 9 dabābu – l. 10 manû; l. 16 manû – l. 17 dabābu (Reiner 1958:11) 3) qabû / dabābu + Dream rituals – SpTU2, 21, l. 12, 15 qabû – l. 14 dabābu (Butler 1998:402) + Namburbi corpus

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– KAR 72rev., l. 1 qabû – rev., l. 2 dabābu (Ebeling 1954, text 13) – LKA 112 + dupl., rev., l. 6 qabû – rev., l. 10 dabābu (Maul 1994:334) – KAR 64:23 qabû (but dupl. have dabābu); l. 35 qabû – l. 34 dabābu (Maul 1994:317) – 80-7-19,88:19′ qabû – l. 23′ dabābu (Maul 1994:279–280)

References Ambos 2004 Butler 1998 Caplice 1970 Caplice 1971 Caplice 1974 Caplice 1974a Ebeling 1931 Ebeling 1954 Ebeling 1955 Ebeling 1956 Farber 1989 Finkel 1980 Læssøe 1955 Maul 1994

Parpola 1993 Reiner 1958 Scurlock 2006

Thureau-Dangin 1921 Thureau-Dangin 1924

Ambos, C. Mesopotamische Baurituale aus dem 1. Jahrtausend v. Chr. Dresden. Butler, S. A. L. Mesopotamian Conceptions of Dreams and Dream Rituals (AOAT 258). Münster. Caplice, R. Namburbi Texts in the British Museum IV (Pl. I–IX). Or 39:111–151 (texts 34–43). Caplice, R. Namburbi Texts in the British Museum V (Pl. II–XVIII). Or 40:133–183 (texts 44–72). Caplice, R. The Akkadian namburbi Texts: An Introduction (SANE 1/1). Malibu. Caplice, R. An Apotropaion against Fungus. JNES 33: 345–349. Ebeling, E. Aus dem Tagewerk eines assyrischen Zauberpriesters (MAOG 5/3). Leipzig. Ebeling, E. Beiträge zur Kenntnis der Beschwörungsserie Namburbi. RA 48:178–191 (texts 11–15). Ebeling, E. Beiträge zur Kenntnis der Beschwörungsserie Namburbi. RA 49:32–41 (texts 16–20). Ebeling, E. Beiträge zur Kenntnis der Beschwörungsserie Namburbi. RA 50:22–33 (texts 30–34). Farber, W. Schlaf, Kindchen, Schlaf.! Mesopotamische BabyBeschwörungen und -Rituale (MC 2). Winona Lake. Finkel, I. L. The Crescent Fertile. AfO 27:37–52. Læssøe, J. Studies on the Assyrian Ritual and Series bît rimki. Copenhagen. Maul, St. M. Zukunftsbewältigung. Eine Untersuchung altorientalischen Denkens anhand der babylonisch-assyrischen Löserituale (Namburbi) (BaF 18). Mainz am Rhein. Parpola, S. Letters from Assyrian and Babylonian Scholars (SAA X). Helsinki. Reiner, E. Šurpu. A Collection of Sumerian and Akkadian Incantations (AfO Bh 11). Graz. Scurlock, J. Magico-Medical Means of Treating Ghost-Induced Illnesses in Ancient Mesopotamia (Ancient Magic and Divination 3). Leiden. Thureau-Dangin, F. Rituels accadiens. Paris. Thureau-Dangin, F. Le rituel pour l’expédition en char. RA 21:127–137.

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Walker–Dick 2001

Wiggermann 1992

Walker, Chr.; Dick, M. The Induction of the Cult Image in Ancient Mesopotamia. The Mesopotamian Mīs Pî Ritual (SAALT 1). Helsinki. Wiggermann, F. A. M. Mesopotamian Protective Spirits. The Ritual Texts (CM 1). Groningen.

Le langage figuré dans les lettres paléo-assyriennes Expressions relatives à l’homme et à la nature

Cécile Michel CNRS, Nanterre

Les expressions figurées, procédés littéraires qui permettent de fleurir le langage, jouent un rôle dans l’évolution des langues: elles produisent souvent des glissements de sens par métaphore, métonymie ou synecdoque.1 Parmi les très nombreuses tablettes découvertes dans les ruines du ProcheOrient, les lettres représentent un corpus privilégié pour l’étude du langage figuré car elles ne suivent pas un format prédéfini comme les contrats et n’utilisent pas une langue officielle comme celle des inscriptions royales.2 Le genre épistolaire, qui emploie un langage plus proche de la langue parlée ainsi qu’un mode allusif, n’est pas toujours aisé à traduire. La correspondance exhumée à Kaniš représente un échantillon particulièrement significatif à cet égard. Produite en abondance par un groupe social mouvant, celui des marchands, elle propose un vocabulaire technique nourri et témoigne de préoccupations quotidiennes. K. R. Veenhof, en 1987, s’est intéressé à quelques métaphores liées aux activités professionnelles des marchands. La sélection d’expressions figurées analysée dans cet article concerne plutôt les images construites sur l’homme et son environnement naturel; celles-ci ne sont pas nécessairement propres aux Assyriens du début du IIe millénaire av. J.-C. Le choix s’est d’abord porté sur un vocabulaire bien délimité, les parties du 1

Métaphore: comparaison, sans comparatif, entre deux réalités fondée sur une analogie; métonymie: remplace un concept par un autre ayant un rapport logique avec le premier; synecdoque: variété de métonymie, remplace un mot par un autre avec un rapport d’inclusion des comparés. Pour ces différents types de figures dans la documentation akkadienne, cf. Wilcke 1987. Watanabe (2002: 16–21) distingue trois sortes de métaphores: substitution, comparaison et interaction sémantique. Tous mes remerciements vont à Klaas Veenhof qui a relu cet article et proposé quelques références supplémentaires. 2 Le langage figuré dans la documentation écrite du Proche-Orient ancien a fait l’objet d’un colloque édité par M. Mindlin, M. J. Geller et J. E. Wainsbrough (1987). Durand (2006) propose l’étude des proverbes et expressions proverbiales dans la correspondance de Mari.

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corps humain, étudié par L. Oppenheim dans la correspondance du Ier millénaire (1941) et recensé dans le Semitic Etymological Dictionary par Kogan et Militarev (SED I). J’ai ensuite relevé quelques images utilisant les fonctions vitales de l’homme, puis j’ai rapidement envisagé son environnement à travers les quatre éléments et le monde animal. En effet, le vocabulaire relatif à la faune paraît fréquent dans les expressions figurées akkadiennes par le truchement de comparaisons entre les comportements humain et animal. 1. La correspondance paléo-assyrienne Les lettres découvertes dans les maisons du quartier commerçant de Kaniš émanent des échanges entre les marchands résidant dans cette localité et, d’une part, leurs familles et collègues demeurés à Aššur, d’autre part leurs correspondants installés dans d’autres comptoirs de commerce d’Asie Mineure. 1.1. Une abondance de lettres privées Les lettres représentent en moyenne un peu plus du tiers des tablettes d’un fonds d’archives; le site de Kaniš en aurait livré environ 8000 sur un total de 22 500 tablettes.3 Ces missives ont été conservées par leur propriétaire pour les informations qu’elles contiennent sur les opérations en cours et les partenaires commerciaux; elles délivrent également des renseignements sur la vie quotidienne de leurs auteurs.4 Toutefois, ces messages n’ont que peu de valeur contrairement aux contrats et autres documents juridiques; ils ont été abandonnés dans les maisons et représentent les principaux témoignages des générations les plus anciennes. La correspondance de trois, voire quatre générations d’une même famille s’est parfois accumulée dans une seule demeure, ce qui explique le nombre important de lettres découvertes dans les maisons du kārum de Kaniš.5

3 Pour un inventaire des tablettes découvertes à Kaniš, cf. Michel 2003 et 2006. L’organisation des archives paléo-assyriennes a été analysée par Veenhof 2003. 4 Michel 2001 propose la traduction d’un échantillon de 400 lettres paléo-assyriennes. 5 La composition de différents fonds d’archives a été analysée par Larsen 2008, Michel 1998 et 2008c; pour l’archivage des lettres, cf. Michel 2008b.

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1.2. Des lettres écrites par leurs auteurs La documentation épistolaire paléo-assyrienne est produite par un groupe socioculturel qui connaît des conditions d’existence particulières où les membres d’une même famille sont régulièrement séparés. De par ses activités professionnelles, le marchand est fréquemment en déplacement, éloigné pendant de longues périodes de sa femme et de ses jeunes enfants demeurant à Aššur ou à Kaniš. Son principal outil de communication, à la fois dans la sphère privée et professionnelle, reste donc l’écrit. Etant donné qu’il n’existe pas suffisamment de scribes pour accompagner les nombreux marchands assyriens sillonnant les routes de haute Mésopotamie et d’Asie Mineure, il paraît logique de supposer que ceux-ci ont appris à lire et à écrire afin de rédiger leur courrier, enregistrer leurs opérations commerciales ou noter le montant des taxes qu’ils règlent en cours de route.6 Une partie des expressions analysées dans le cadre de cet article émane de femmes d’Aššur. Celles-ci ne voyagent guère;7 elles gèrent leur maisonnée, élèvent leurs enfants et gardent des archives de leurs époux, archives dont elles connaissent le classement et dans lesquelles elles sont capables de retrouver des textes précis. Leurs lettres traitent à la fois des affaires commerciales et de leur vie quotidienne. Certaines de ces lettres, de par leur ton et de nombreux repentirs dans l’écriture, semblent avoir été rédigées par leur expéditrice.8 1.3. La langue des lettres Ces missives, dès lors qu’elles sont directement écrites par leurs auteurs et non par un scribe professionnel, sont dépourvues des formules de bénédiction classiques dans le reste de la correspondance akkadienne. Elles témoignent d’un ton personnel et utilisent un langage que l’on devine proche de la langue parlée.9 Leur grammaire et leur syntaxe sont parfois approximatives, et à travers le choix du vocabulaire transparaît la person-

6

Larsen 1976:305 et 2001:277; Michel 2008a. Michel 2008d. 8 Michel 2009. 9 Michel 2008b. Durand (2006:7–9), fait une observation identique pour les lettres découvertes dans les archives royales de Mari. Tout en signalant que cette correspondance montre une langue vernaculaire, il précise que l’on ignore à quoi ressemblait la langue parlée et l’on connaît très peu d’onomatopées et d’interjections; il note néanmoins le caractère spontané du contenu des lettres. 7

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nalité de leurs auteurs.10 Les lettres échangées entre les membres d’une même famille possèdent un ton très direct dans les manifestations émotionnelles.11 Toutefois, l’expression des sentiments est davantage présente dans la correspondance féminine;12 celle-ci reflète les aspirations des femmes de marchands à une vie harmonieuse et prospère au sein de la société. 1.4. Le langage figuré dans les lettres Le caractère spontané du langage épistolaire paléo-assyrien explique l’usage fréquent de diverses figures de style. Certaines métaphores, relevant de la terminologie commerciale et donc typiques de ce dialecte, ont été analysées il y a une vingtaine d’années par Klaas Veenhof qui s’est concentré sur le rôle proéminent de l’argent, principal moyen de paiement, et des tablettes, souvent synonymes de créances. Beaucoup d’expressions imagées émanent de la personnification de ces deux objets: l’argent ‘est affamé’ lorsqu’il n’est pas productif, les tablettes ‘meurent’ ou ‘sont tuées’ lorsqu’elles ont perdu leur valeur.13 Lorsqu’une lettre traite d’affaires plus personnelles, son auteur fait également usage de différentes figures de style, le plus souvent par analogie, usant de comparaisons ou métaphores pas toujours faciles à identifier, ou par substitution, recourant à la métonymie. Ce langage figuré fleurit tout particulièrement dans les discours chargés en émotion.14 Dès lors qu’elles ne relèvent plus de la terminologie commerciale, ces expressions figurées ne sont pas spécifiquement paléo-assyriennes et relèvent plus généralement d’un fond akkadien commun. Mon propos n’est donc pas d’isoler les expressions propres au dialecte des marchands d’Aššur,

10

Larsen 2001:276, relève des habitudes scribales ou linguistiques qui varient selon les auteurs des lettres. 11 En témoigne par exemple les courriers envoyés par Aššur-idī à son fils Aššur-nādā; par exemple TC 3, 93:17–26 (Michel 2001, No. 162; Larsen 2002, No. 15): ‘Pourquoi ne cesses-tu d’agir à l’encontre de l’enseignement divin et aggraves-tu ainsi tes fautes? As-tu oublié le commandement des dieux? Pourquoi donc le commandement des dieux ne te semble-t-il pas important? Jusqu’à ce jour, tu es en retard! Moi, à qui dois-je me fier désormais?’ Voir également TC 3, 94 (Larsen 2002, No. 14). 12 Larsen 2001:275; Michel 2001, chapitre 7 propose la traduction d’une centaine de lettres envoyées ou reçues par des femmes. 13 Veenhof 1987. 14 Veenhof 1987:43.

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mais plutôt d’identifier, dans la correspondance des marchands de Kaniš, différentes images relevant de champs sémantiques donnés.15 2. Les figures de style construites sur les parties du corps et sur se fonctions Ainsi que le constatait L. Oppenheim il y a plus de soixante ans en relevant les idiomes dans les lettres akkadiennes du Ier millénaire, le vocabulaire des différentes parties du corps humain constitue un corpus idéal pour l’étude des expressions figurées car il est facile à délimiter et s’avère être particulièrement représentatif dans ce niveau de langue.16 La seule réserve émise par ce savant concerne l’usage de certaines parties du corps, tels le cœur, libbum, ou la main, qātum, comme prépositions ou associées à des prépositions; ces occurrences ne seront pas analysées dans cet article. Les parties du corps sont abordées dans l’ordre donné par les textes médicaux du Ier millénaire, qui présentent les symptômes en partant de la tête pour finir par les pieds. Les figures de style formées sur ce vocabulaire utilisent souvent les mêmes verbes, très courants en akkadien; leur traduction n’apparaît pas toujours évidente. 2.1. La tête et ses éléments 2.1.1. La tête Deux mots désignent ‘la tête’ dans la documentation paléo-assyrienne, qaqqudum et rēšum. Toutefois, l’usage le plus fréquent des deux termes renvoie plutôt à la personne en général, avec un sens réflexif, et occasionnellement seul le premier se réfère à la partie supérieure du corps. Qaqqudum est employé avec le verbe ma¶ā´um ‘frapper’ à plusieurs reprises. L’expression qaqqadam ma¶ā´um, analysée par K. Veenhof,17 dériverait d’un geste symbolique consistant à frapper une personne sur la tête pour la rendre responsable. Il s’agit alors le plus souvent du rem15

Je préciserai toutefois lorsque l’usage d’une expression imagée est spécifique aux tablettes de Kaniš. 16 Oppenheim 1941. Je tiens à rendre ici hommage aux travaux de ce savant ainsi qu’à ceux, plus récents, de A. Militarev et L. Kogan qui ont consacré le premier volume de leur Semitic Etymological Dictionary aux parties des corps humain et animal (SED I). Voir également Dhorme 1923 et Gruber 1980; ce dernier auteur note, en introduction, que la gestuelle joue un rôle de premier plan dans le langage figuré. 17 Veenhof 1972:160, n. 274.

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boursement d’une dette. D’une traduction très large, ‘revendiquer’, la figure de style prend dans certaines lettres le sens plus précis de ‘garantir’, voire ‘mettre en gage sa personne’.18 C’est le cas par exemple de l’expression amtim qaqqidim ma¶´im dans une lettre de Waqqurtum:19 ‘Aujourd’hui je ne te plais même pas autant qu’une “servante frappée sur la tête”, car pour une servante tu mesures (au moins) des rations (régulières)’. L’auteure de cette missive se plaint d’être traitée par son époux comme si elle avait une condition inférieure à celle d’une servante mise en gage. De fait, les femmes accusent souvent les hommes de leur famille de ne pas leur envoyer suffisamment pour se nourrir, et prétendent devoir se contenter de la faible ration accordée aux esclaves:20 ‘En (me) mesurant (une ration de seulement) 20 litres, ils m’ont fait l’égale de tes servantes! Les servantes consomment 20 litres, et moi je devrais me contenter de 20 litres?’. L’expression ‘frapper sur la tête’ pourrait aussi renvoyer à un geste d’appropriation et signifier ‘déclarer sien’.21 Une formule de responsabilité solidaire, fréquente dans les créances, utilise une construction avec une préposition: ina qaqqidim rakāsum, ‘imputer une dette à quelqu’un’.22 Le terme qaqqudum est également employé dans une expression imagée qui n’est pas sans rappeler les gestes de déploration. Un marchand assyrien s’est laissé entraîner par des compatriotes peu scrupuleux et a assisté au vol de quelques étoffes; pris de remords, il en informe les autorités assyriennes locales et précise son désarroi ainsi:23 ‘j’ai répandu de la poussière sur ma tête!’ 18

Pour ce sens, voir par exemple CCT 4, 29a:23–24, 27–28 (Michel 2001, No. 163): a-dí KÙ.BABBAR ú-[´]í-a-ni qá-qá-sà, ma-¶a-a´ … a-na 20 ma-na, [KÙ.BABBAR] qá-qí-dí a-ma-¶a-a´ ‘Jusqu’à ce que l’argent sorte vers moi, garantis-la (marchandise) … “Pour les 20 mines [d’argent], je garantis de ma personne!” ’ 19 ATHE 44:25–28 (Michel 2001, No. 319): u4-ma-am : ma-lá : am-tim : qá-qí-dí/im, ma-a¶-´í-im : ú-lá ad-mì-qá-ku-ma, ep-re-e : a-na am-tim, tù-ma-da-ad, et le commentaire Michel 2001:446, note b. Un sens similaire est attesté dans le texte inédit C 15:8 mentionné par le CAD Q 112 (8a 5′). 20 BIN 4, 22:18–22 (Michel 2001, No. 375): 20 SILÀ ma-da-dam, iš-tí a-ma-tí-kàma, ú-uš-ta-am-¶i-ru-ni, GEMÉ 20 SILÀ e-kà-lá, ú a-na-ku 20 SILÀ a-kál. 21 Cf. BIN 6, 26:8–11: 5 ku-sí-a-tim qá-qá-sí-na, im-ta-¶a-a´ um-ma a-na-ku-ma, úlu qá-qá-sí-na, tám-¶a-a´ (exemple cité par le CAD M1 80b). 22 L’expression ina qaqqad NP rakāsum correspondant à une clause de responsabilité jointe a été analysée par Veenhof 2001:148–152. 23 KTH 3, 19–20: ep-ra--am ana qá-qí-/dí-a, áš-pu-uk!(KUM)-ma. K. R. Veenhof me signale que cette expression est également utilisée dans le texte inédit Kt c/k 561:7–10: a-na šu-mì KÙpì-im a-dí ší-ni-šu, ù 3ší-šu ep-ra-am a-na, qá-qí-dí-a áš-pu-uk-ma,

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Le plus souvent, le mot qaqqudum, doté d’un pronom personnel suffixe, prend un sens réflexif. Il est ainsi utilisé avec le verbe palā¶um, ‘avoir peur’, pour signifier ‘craindre pour sa tête/vie’.24 On le trouve également employé avec le verbe šalā¶um, ‘retirer’ avec le sens de ‘se retirer’. Deux femmes s’adressent ainsi à Pūšu-kēn:25 ‘Tu (es) notre père, songe à un moyen (par lequel) il se désisterait. Il a confiance en son père, réfléchis à la façon dont tu peux le retirer (de l’affaire)’. Cette utilisation de qaqqudum avec un pronom suffixe existe aussi dans les phrases nominales telle:26 ‘à un agent (qui est) sûr comme vous-même (qaqqidikunu)’. De cet usage est vraisemblablement formée la taxe personnelle, qaqqadatum, due par les marchands aux postes douaniers entre Aššur et Kaniš. Le mot rēšum sert de même à designer la personne lorsqu’il est accompagné du verbe uzuzzum, ‘se tenir’, dans l’expression très courante rēšam uzuzzum, ‘être prêt à, être à la disposition/au service de’. Une belle illustration figure dans une lettre de Puzur-Aššur à sa promise, Nuhšātum:27 ‘Je suis seul, il n’y a personne qui me sert, ni personne qui dresse la table pour moi!’ Le terme pānum ‘front, face’ intervient le plus souvent précédé d’une préposition comme dans ina pani- suivi d’un pronom suffixe et se traduit par ‘personnellement’. Il est parfois attesté pour désigner la face d’un objet (d’une étoffe par exemple) et plus rarement avec le sens de ‘visage d’un être humain’. Ainsi, l’expression ‘avoir la face lourde’ signifie ‘être

a-na kà-ri-im a-li-ik (transcription J.-G. Dercksen). On la retrouve dans le texte Kt 00/k7:11–12, cf. Kogan–Koslova 2006:592. Elle figure aussi dans le corpus des textes médicaux où le verbe employé est nadûm (AMT 90, 1:14). 24 Cf. par exemple ICK 1, 1:57 (Michel 1991, No. 125): [a]-bu-ni a-na qá-qí-díšu ip-lá-a¶-ma ‘notre père craignait pour lui-même’. 25 ArOr 47, 43:30–33 (Michel 2001, No. 321): a-bu-ni a-ta, a-šar qá-qí-dí-šu ša-lá¶i-im mì-li-ik, a-na a-bi-šu-ú i-ta-kà-al ma-lá, qá-qá-sú ta-ša-lá-¶a-ni mì-li-ik. Voir également BIN 4, 51:45–48 (Larsen 2002, No. 64): KÙ.BABBAR 10 ma-na.TA na-šíra-am, ù a-ta qá-qá-ad-kà šu-ul-¶a-am. 26 BIN 4, 25:13–14: a-na DAM.GÀRri-im ke-nim, ša ki-ma qá-qí-dí-ku-nu. Voir aussi TC 1, 18:5: šu-ma lá qá-qí-dí-kà. 27 BIN 6, 104:15–18 (Michel 2001, No. 397): we-da-ku : ma-ma-an : ša i-na, re-šée-a : i-za-zu-ma, pá-šu-ra-am : i-ša-kà-na-ni, lá-šu. Voir également BIN 6, 27:11–16 (Ichisar 1981:293): e-ra-áb : š[u]-m[a], [i]-re-eš15 : a-bi4-a, a-[zi]-iz-ma : uz-[ni], lá i-pèté, ù i-na re-ší-kà, lá a-zi-iz-/-ma qá-ta-t[im]; BIN 6, 195:19–20: ù [a-na-ku] i-na re-šík[u-n]u, a-za-zu; CCT 3, 15:35–36 (Ichisar 1981:305–306): A-šùr-SIG5 i-re-ší-a, i-zaaz : iš-tí-a; CCT 3, 40c:12–14: a-ma-kam lá i-sà-hu-ur, [i]-re-ší-a, i-tí-zi-iz; RA 60, 128: 13–14 (Larsen 2002, No. 154): A-bu-ša-lim i-re-eš15, a-bi4-šu : i-zi-iz…

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déprimé’:28 ‘(que de bonnes nouvelles de toi me parviennent dans la ville) afin que je ne sois pas malheureux à ton sujet’. L’expression, spécifiquement paléo-assyrienne, ´ulum pānim kallumum, ‘montrer un visage noir’, se traduit par ‘montrer de la colère’.29 Pānum est fréquemment utilisé avec le verbe šakānum, ‘poser, placer’, dans le sens ‘placer sa face, regarder dans une certaine direction’,30 voire ‘avoir l’intention de’ dans la phrase:31 ‘Si tu as l’intention d’aller à Aššur’. Dans certaines occurrences, l’expression peut être traduite par ‘interférer’:32 ‘tu ne dois pas interférer avec mes instructions et mes affaires’. Pānum intervient aussi à plusieurs reprises comme complément d’objet direct du verbe wabālum pour signifier: ‘avoir de la considération pour, favoriser (quelqu’un)’.33 2.1.2. Les parties de la tête Les parties de la tête les plus fréquemment employées dans le langage figuré restent les yeux, la bouche et les oreilles qui permettent évidemment de voir, exprimer ou entendre quantité de sentiments. Le front, pūtum, est utilisé avec les verbes ebēbum et zakā’um à l’emphatique (système II), ‘rendre pur’, dans un contexte juridique ou économique, pour signifier ‘dégager quelqu’un d’une revendication de nature économique ou juridique’ comme dans la phrase:34 ‘Vous serez dégagés de chaque sicle d’argent que vous aurez géré dans la ville (d’Aššur)’. 28 KBo 9, 9:7′: pá-nu-ú-a a-na ´é-ri-kà lá i-kà-bi4-tù. Voir également Chantre 15: 8 à propos d’un marchand qui a subi des pertes importantes: pá-nu-ú-a i-ik-ta-ábtù-ma, et l. 20: pá-nu-ú- kà-áb-tù. 29 TC 2, 43:29: pá-ni-a lá ú-´a-lam. Pour cette expression, cf. CAD Ô 241, 2′. K. R. Veenhof me signale également l’usage de pānam šuršûm, expression connue par les sources paléo-babyloniennes, et qui signifie ‘faire comprendre’, cf. BIN 6, 42:8: šu-ma a-šar ús-mu pá-ni-e ú-ša-ar-ša-kà. 30 CCT 2, 3:27: pá-nam šu-ku-šu-ma ‘Mets-le face (à cela)’; CCT 5, 1b:6–7: É.GALlúm : pá-ni a-na, Šu-Ištar : iš-ku-ma ‘le palais a porté son attention sur Šū-Ištar’, cf. Larsen 1971:321. 31 BIN 4, 22:5–6 (Michel 2001, No. 375): šu-ma pá-nu-kà, a-na A-limki!(LIM) šaak-nu. L. Oppenheim (1941:257) relève des sens divergents pour pānam šakānum, mais il mélange les usages du nom pānum ‘la face’, avec ceux de l’adjectif panûm ‘premier, prochain’, très bien attesté en paléo-assyrien, cf. CAD P 84, 96. 32 CCT 2, 20:19–21: a-na té-er-tí-a ú a-wa-tí-a : pá-ni-kà : lá ta-ša-kà-an-ma. 33 Cf. Kt 92/k 203:27–28 (Çeçen 1997:223; Michel 2001, No. 21): a-¶u-um pá-ni [a¶i]-im ú-lá, ú-ba-al; voir aussi Kt 92/k 200:31 (Çeçen 1997:225; Michel 2001, No. 22). 34 TC 2, 21:23–25 (Michel 2001, No. 326): a-šar KÙ.BABBAR, 1 GÍN i-na a-lim šu-tébu-lá-tù-nu-ni, pu-ut-ku-nu lu za-ku-a-at. Ce mot est également employé avec le verbe

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Les yeux, ēnān, interviennent dans toutes sortes de constructions, avec une préposition ou un verbe de mouvement.35 Lorsque le mot est précédé de la préposition ina et augmenté d’un pronom suffixe désignant une personne, il prend le sens très courant: ‘être considéré par cette personne comme …’, par exemple dans ce passage36 ‘Jamais nous ne t’avons blâmé, et (pourtant) à tes yeux, nous ne sommes pas des gentilshommes!’; ou encore dans cette lettre d’un père qui fait des remontrances à sa fille:37 ‘Moi-même et mes fils nous ne sommes pas importants à tes yeux. Si moi-même et mes fils nous étions importants à tes yeux, alors moimême je t’aurais honoré comme une fille’. Le plus souvent, le terme apparaît comme complément d’objet direct du verbe amārum, ‘voir’, dans le sens de ‘voir les yeux de quelqu’un’, une synecdoque qui signifie: ‘voir personnellement, rendre visite à’.38 Cette expression prend une tournure pieuse lorsqu’elle renvoie au dieu; elle émane alors souvent de la corres-

elēlum, au système II, ‘purifier’ dans un contrat d’affranchissement et d’adoption daté du kārum Ib, cf. Veenhof 1982, l. 3: pu-us-sú ú-li-il ‘il l’a affranchi’. 35 Oppenheim 1941:258 constate que les expressions qui utilisent ēnān ‘les yeux’, ont souvent un sens proche de celles construites avec pānum; cela est également valable en paléo-assyrien, par exemple dans les cas où ‘tête’ et ‘yeux’ servent à désigner la personne toute entière. 36 TC 3, 1:23–27 (Michel 2001, No. 211): ma-ti-ma li-ba-kà, ú-la nu-la-mì-in, a-ta a-na la a-wi-li, i-na e-ni-kà, ša-ak-na-ni. Voir aussi BIN 6, 119:8–10: ma a-wi-lúm a-la a-wi-lim, i-na e-ni-kà, ša-ki-in. 37 VS 26, 33:2′–9′ (Michel 2001, No. 355): [… a-na-ku], [ù] me-er-ú-a : i-na, e-niki : ú-lá kà-ab-tá-ni, šu-ma-mì-in4 : a-na-ku, ù me-er-ú-a : i-na, e-ni-kà : kà-ab-tá-ni, ù ana-ku : ki-ma, me-er-ú-a-tim (sic! on attend un singulier) ú-kà-bi-it-ki-mì-in4. Dans une autre lettre adressée à une femme, AKT 1, 14:10–11 (Michel 2001, No. 383), on trouve: ‘pourquoi me fais-tu honte à ses yeux?’, mì-šu-um i-na e-ni-šu, tù-ba-a-šani, montrant, par là, l’importance de la perception de soi par un tiers; voir également TPAK 1, 50:30–31 (Michel 2001, No. 168): ša-il5 : i-na e-ni-kà, a-sà-ri-im : atù-wa-ar ‘à tes yeux je passe maintenant pour fautif !’ 38 BIN 6, 20:15–17 (Michel 2001, No. 334): a-pu-tum ki-ma-ma ša-´ú-ra-tí-ni, lu ša-´ú-ra-ti : a-dí, e-né-e-a : ta-me-ri-ni ‘comme tu l’as attentivement surveillée (jusqu’à présent), je t’en prie continue à la surveiller avec attention jusqu’à ce que tu me voies personnellement’; BIN 6. 97:11: e-né-šu : lá-mu-ur, et 14–15: a-lá-kàma : e-né-kà, a-ma-ar-ma; KTBl 6:15: lá a-lá-kam-ma e-né-kà, lá a-mar; Sadberk 10: 19: ú e-né-kà : ú-lá a-ta-ma-ar; CCT 4, 43a:50: a-lá-kà-ma e-né-kà a-ma-ar. Voir également la construction amer ēnīšu ‘personnellement’ TC 3, 67:19 (Michel 2001, No. 149), BIN 6, 31:16 ou KTBl 6:16 et l’expression ‘œil contre œil’ dans ATHE 59:28–29 (cf. Larsen 1967:29): e-na-at e-na-at, lu ni-na-me-er. L. Kogan me signale que cette expression figurée, très ancienne, est déjà attestée dans une lettre d’époque sargonique Ad 12:11.

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pondance féminine. Tarām-Kūbi écrit à l’attention de son époux:39 ‘lorsque tu auras entendu ma tablette, viens, regarde vers Aššur, ton dieu et ton domaine et tant que je vivrai que je puisse voir tes yeux’. On la trouve également dans la lettre d’un fils à son père:40 ‘Tu (es) le seul, mon dieu, mon confident et mon espoir; que ton père soit heureux, et prie pour moi afin que je puisse voir l’œil du dieu et le tien’. Cette expression pourrait avoir un lien avec les yeux de la statue divine, souvent dotés d’un pouvoir magique au Proche-Orient ancien. L’œil, ēnum, intervient comme complément d’autres verbes: –

– –

avec našā’um, ‘porter’, dans l’expression ‘lever les yeux’, pour signifier ‘convoiter, désirer’, souvent un bien, voire de l’argent:41 ‘tu ne dois pas convoiter chaque sicle d’argent’ ou ‘tu ne dois pas désirer ma ruine’;42 avec ma¶ārum, ‘recevoir’, avec pour sens ‘être agréable, plaire’:43 ‘si cette servante te plaît (prends la servante)’; avec patā’um, ‘ouvrir’, la formulation ‘ouvrir les yeux’ signifie ‘encourager, rendre heureux’, comme dans ce message pressant:44 ‘sauvez-moi tant que je peux encore être sauvé et rendez-moi heureux!’

L’œil, ēnum, peut également être le sujet d’un verbe; il est ainsi employé avec: – 39

alākum, ‘aller’, une expression qui se traduit par ‘surveiller’;45

CCT 3, 25:23–26 (Michel 2001, No. 345): ¢up-pá-am ta-áš-me-ú : al-kam-ma, een6 : A-šùr : DINGIR-kà ù -li be-tí-ka, a-mu-ur : ú a-dí : ba-al-¢á!-ku-ni, e-né-kà lámu-ur, ou encore cette lettre adressée par deux femmes à Imdīlum: TC 1, 5:15, 13–17 (Michel 2001, No. 348): a-pu-tum ki-ma ¢up-pá-am, ta-áš-me-ú al-kam-ma, e-en A-šùr : a-mu-ur-ma, na-pá-áš-ta-kà, e-¢í-ir ‘s’il te plaît, dès que tu auras pris connaissance de (cette) lettre, viens, rends visite au dieu Aššur et sauve ta vie!’ 40 KTS 1, 15:41–44 (Michel 2001, No. 16): [iš]-té-en a-ta ì-lí tù-kúl-tí, ú ba-áš-tí aba-kà lu-ša-lim-ma, kur-ba-ma e-en A-šùr ú, e-né-kà lá-mur; KTS 1, 1b:18–22 (Michel 2001, No. 352), lettre d’Ištar-bāšti à son frère: ‘prépare-toi à partir pour rendre visite au dieu Aššur et à ton père, et ainsi réjouir ton père’, tí-ib-a-ma, a-tal-kam-ma e-en6, A-šùr ù e-en6, a-bi4-ka : a-mur-ma li-bi4, a-bi4-ka ¶a-dí. 41 TC 3, 39:9–11: a-na, KÙ.BABBAR 1 GÍN e-né-kà, la ta-na-ší. Voir également BIN 4, 34:18–20: a-na KÙ.BABBAR, 1 ma-na ù 2 ma-na DIRI, e-né-kà : lá ta-na-ší. 42 BIN 4, 96:8–9 (Michel 2001, No. 316): (à propos d’étoffes) e-né-kà : lá ta-naší-ma, lá tù-¶a-lá-qá-ni. 43 CCT 5, 49a:10: šu-ma am-tum, e-kà : ma-a¶-ra-a[t]. 44 RA 60, 115:20–22: a-na u4-um, e-¢á-grah-ri-im e¢-ra-ni, e-né-a pè-et-a. On trouve l’expression e-né-a pé/è-té-(a), ‘rends(rendez)-moi heureux’ dans BIN 4, 72: 23; ICK 1, 17:44; Prag I 437:12; TC 3, 129:1′ … Voir également VS 26, 17:18–19 (Michel 2001, No. 110): e-né-a, ta-áp-té et BIN 6, 64:44: e-né-šu pì-tí-a-ma (cf. CAD P 351). 45 TC 3, 105:17–18: e-ni-ki i-na ´é-ri-šu, li-li-ik.

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ekēlum, ‘être ou devenir sombre’, pour exprimer soit une mauvaise intention, soit une dépression. Dans le premier cas on peut citer une lettre d’Imdīlum qui se plaint des agissements du frère de son correspondant de la manière suivante:46 ‘ton frère ses yeux se sont obscurcis’ à comprendre par ‘ton frère médite de mauvaises choses’, dans le second cas, l’expression relève d’une lettre désespérée d’une femme qui n’a même pas de quoi se nourrir: ‘Mes yeux sont devenus sombres (à force d’essayer de trouver) de la nourriture pour moi et pour les enfants!’47 Sans doute cette mère, suite à des nuits d’insomnies, a-t-elle les yeux cernés; lemēnum, pour exprimer au contraire ‘regarder avec colère’ comme dans cette injonction:48 ‘pourquoi devrais-je t’écrire de longues phrases? Je (suis) quelqu’un de confiance, je ne suis pas négligent. Tu ne dois pas me regarder avec colère!’; nadā’um, avec pour sens ‘faire très attention, surveiller’.49

Dans une lettre qu’il adresse à son épouse, Pūšu-kēn emploie une expression atypique où les yeux sont sujets des verbes ‘entrer’ et ‘sortir’:50 ‘Moi, ici, comme on a l’habitude de dire, je … sur le pain (et) la bière mes yeux entrent et sortent!’; il faut sans doute comprendre ici que Pūšu-kēn est débordé, qu’il n’arrive pas à garder un œil sur tout et doit en outre penser à se sustenter, l’expression ‘pain et bière’ devant être comprise comme ‘boire et manger’. L’expression est malheureusement incomplète. Le nez, appum, ne prête se pas à des figures de style dans la correspondance paléo-assyrienne, en revanche, la bouche, pûm, est très présente dans le langage imagé où elle intervient comme complément de 46

TTC 27:30–31 (Michel 2001, No. 82): a-¶u-kà e-na-šu, ek-lá. BIN 6, 183:14–16: a-na ú-ku-ul-tí-a ù ú-ku-ul-tí, ´ú-ù¶-ri-im e-na-a, i-ta-na-kilá, cf. Michel 1997:101, n. 71. 48 Prag I 466:3–6: mì-nam a-wa-tim, ma-da-tim lu-lá-pì-ta-ku-nu-tí, ke-num a-na-ku lá a-na-dí : e-na-kà lá i-lá-mì-na (lā anaddi est à comprendre comme une abréviation de: a¶am lā anaddi). Voir également AKT 3, 89:10: e-na-a : lá il5-mì-na, TPAK 1, 7:8: e-na-šu il5-mì-na-ma et TPAK 1, 11:31–32: e-na-kà a-té-er-tim, il5-tám-na. À propos de ces deux derniers exemples, Larsen (2001:276, n. 3), note que cette expression fait partie des habitudes de langage d’Aššur-mūtappil. 49 ATHE 62:36 (Michel 2001, No. 207): e-na-tum na-ad-a ‘des vigies ont été postées’. 50 CCT 6, 11a:37–39 (Michel 2001, No. 300, n. f ): a-na-ku a-na-kam, ki-ma i-qábi4-ú-ni i-´é-er? NINDA KAŠ!(KÀ) a-ku?-lu?, e-na-a e-ra-ba ú-´í-a!. Cette expression n’est pas sans rappeler les artifices de certains films d’animation de la première moitié du XXe siècle où les yeux des personnages, afin de refléter l’état d’âme de ces derniers, donnaient l’impression de sortir de leurs orbites. La lecture asyndétique KAŠ! pour le signe KÀ m’a été suggérée par K. R. Veenhof. La phrase ‘comme on a l’habitude de dire’ renverrait à l’énoncé d’une expression proverbiale. 47

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verbes de mouvement tels tadānum ‘donner’, patā’um ‘ouvrir’, wabālum ‘porter’, elā’um ‘monter’; les expressions renvoient aux différentes manières de s’exprimer et pûm doit alors se comprendre comme ‘la parole, les mots, les propos’51 … L’expression pâm tadānum, très fréquemment employée, prend exceptionnellement le sens d’ ‘ordonner’ comme dans: ‘Puzur-Ištar, là-bas, m’avait donné l’ordre suivant:52 “Prends les étoffes comme dividendes”. Mais moi, j’ai refusé’. Toutefois, elle se traduit le plus souvent par ‘donner sa parole, promettre’:53 ‘s’il te plaît, obéis aux ordres divins! Tu as donné ta parole au dieu à cinq ou six reprises et tu as rompu (ta promesse)’. Il est également possible de faire une promesse en utilisant l’expression pâm ka’’ulum,54 puis de tenir celle-ci en employant le verbe malā’um à l’emphatique, ‘remplir une promesse’:55 ‘le marché est troublé et il ne nous est pas possible de tenir (nos) promesses (données) au moment où les marchandises étaient remises à crédit; l’argent est difficile (à obtenir)’. Lorsque pûm est le complément d’objet direct du verbe ‘ouvrir’, souvent en relation avec une démarche auprès des autorités, la

51

Ce sens de pûm est attesté avec bien d’autres verbes. Par exemple avec šâlum ‘interroger’: [pí]-i ru-ba-tí ú GAL sí-[mì-il5-tim], [š]a-a-al-ma, ‘renseigne-toi sur chaque mot prononcé par la reine et le rabi simmiltim’ (OIP 27, 5:12–13). Ou encore avec šemûm ‘écouter’: pí-šu, ší-me-ma ‘écoute ses propos’ (CCT 2, 44b, 8–9, Michel 2001, No. 229); voir aussi ICK 2, 152:14: pí-šu iš-m[e]. 52 TC 3, 84:31–36 (Michel 2001, No. 235): Puzur4-iš4-tár : pá-šu, a-ma-kà-ma i-dínam, um-ma šu-ut-ma, TÚGÚÁ a-na šé-lu-e-tim, le-qé a-na-ku, ù-la a-mu-ú. 53 HUCA 39, 12:13, 24–27 (Michel 2001, No. 262; Larsen 2002, No. 34): a-putum : a-wa-at : DINGIRÚÁ, ú-´ur : a-dí 5 ¶a-am-ší-šu ù 6 ší-ší-šu, pá-kà a-na DINGIR : tadí-ni, ù tù-pá-šé-er; CCT 2, 43:13–14 (Michel 2001, No. 193): iš-tí i-[ib-r]i a-wi-li, ša pì-šu-nu i-dí-nu-ni-ku-ni!; CCT 4, 46a:7–9 (Michel 1991, No. 60): i-na pá-ni-tim : ina, Bu-ru-uš-¶a-tim : a-na Úa-na-a, pí-i : a-dí-in; KTS 12:21–22 (Larsen 2002, No. 63): Šu-da-šùr ša pá-šu a-na KÙ.BABBAR, i-dí-na-ni; BIN 4, 45:15–16 (Michel 2001, No. 187): a-na a-ší-im mì-ma : pu-i, ù-lá a-dí-in; TC 3, 83:31–32: šu-ma ki-ma Dan-we-er, pá-i a-dì-in-ma; CCT 3, 10:32–33 (Larsen 2002, No. 67): ma-lá a-na-kam pá-kà, ta-dí-nu-ni-a-tí-ni. Pour d’autres références, cf. CAD P 53 (sub pû) et CAD N1 459 (sub nadānu). 54 CCT 5, 1a:34–35: ù a-tù-nu : a-na-kam : ik-ri-bu-um, pí-ku-nu : lu-kà-il5-šu-um ‘quant à vous, ici, concernant l’offrande votive, promettez(-la) lui’, littéralement ‘que votre bouche la retienne pour lui’. Le terme ikribum dans cette phrase pourrait être traduit par bénédiction; il pourrait en être de même dans AKT 3, 63:12– 14: i-tù-a-ar mì-šu-um, ik-ri-bu-um, i-na pí-kà : i-ta-na-dí-am; CCT 4, 31a:28–29: ú ikri-ba-am, pá-šu ub-lam. 55 CCT 4, 10a:18–22 (Michel 2001, No. 242): ma-¶i-ru-um pá-ru-ud-ma, i-na reeš15 ba-áb-tim, ú-lá na-ad-ú-ma : pá-am, ú-lá nu-ma-lá KÙ.BABBARpi, da-nu.

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traduction la mieux adaptée est ‘protester’:56 ‘là-bas prenez contact avec le kārum et protestez’. Si la combinaison de pûm avec le verbe wabālum ‘apporter’ semble signifier simplement ‘parler, dire’,57 lorsque le mot est construit avec le verbe wa´ā’um ‘sortir’, la traduction correspond plutôt à ‘prononcer’,58 tandis qu’avec elā’um ‘monter’, l’expression se traduit par ‘divulguer’:59 ‘Tu ne dois lui (fém.) divulguer aucune affaire relative à la maison’. Si pûm se traduit fréquemment par ‘la parole’, la langue, lišānum, correspond à un certain type de propos, ‘les commérages’, et rappelle notre formulation ‘avoir la langue bien pendue’. Ce mot intervient fréquemment dans la phrase ina pîm u lišānim alākum pour signifier ‘propager des propos et des commérages’:60 ‘que m’as-tu laissé afin de ne pas m’abandonner dans une maison vide? Tu as propagé propos et commérages et tu as même emporté (ce qui relevait) de mes offrandes votives!’ Ces deux mots sont parfois associés à d’autres verbes, comme dans cette lettre adressée par Innāya à Puzur-Sîn:61 ‘Tu es mon père et mon maître; ne te

56

KUG 34:33–34 (Michel 2001, No. 241): a-ma-kam : kà-ra-am, mu-ù¶-ra-ma puku-nu : pé-té-a-ma. Voir aussi BIN 6, 69:24: pí-šu-nu IGI kà-ri-im li-ip-té-ú; Kt n/k 67: 14 (Donbaz 2001:84): pì-i : áp-té-ma; TC 3, 38:23–24: a-na a-lá-ki-šu-[nu], pá-i lá ápta-na-té. 57 BIN 6, 187:5–6: ma-mì-tám, pá-šu-nu lu-ub-lá-ma; CCT 4, 31a:28–29: ú ik-riba-am, pá-šu ub-lam; Prag I 650:15–16: lá tí-šu-a-ni : ik-ri-ba-[am], pì-i ub-lam; CCT 5, 4a:5–6: ù pá-a KÙ.BABBAR [a]-na, a-wi-lim lu nu-bi-il5. 58 KTS 1, 15:22–25 (Michel 2001, No. 161): li-bi4, a-ba-e-šu-nu ú-lá-mì-nu-ni-ma, a-ba-ú-šu-nu IGI i-li-šu-nu, ik-ri-bu-um i-pì-šu-nu ú-[´í]-a-ni ‘(ils) ont mis leurs patrons en colère et leurs patrons ont prononcé une malédiction contre eux devant leurs dieux’. 59 CCT 4, 35b:30–32: mì-ma a-wa-at É, i-ma-a¶-ri-ša i-pì-ki, lá e-li. 60 Kt c/k 43:35–39 (Balkan 1957:16, n. 20): mì-nam, té-zi-ba-am-ma, lá i-na Ébé-tim, e-ri-im té-zi-ba-ni, i-na pí-im ù li-ša-nim, ta-li-ik-ma a-ni-qí-a ta-ta-ba-al. Cette expression est analysée par Larsen (1971:319–320), qui fournit d’autres exemples. Adana 237B:18–19 (Donbaz 1984): i-pì-im : ù li-ša-nim ta-li-kà-ma, ša a-na DINGIR : lá dam-qá-ni : ta-áš-tap-ra-nim ‘Vous avez propagé propos et commérages et vous m’avez écrit des choses qui ne sont pas bonnes pour le dieu’. Le mot pûm est parfois remplacé par takilum ‘calomnie’: a-na, ta-ki-li ù li-ša-nim, lá ta-la-ak, ‘Tu ne dois pas prêter attention aux calomnies et commérages’ (AAA 1:7–9, Michel 2001, No. 320). 61 AKT 3, 62:36–45: a-bi a-ta a-ta ra-ma-kà, lá ta-ša-gi5-iš! ù i-a-tí, lá taša-gi5-ša--ni a-bi a-ta, be-li a-ta iš-tù-ma a-šu-mì, Úa-na-na-ri-im i-na pí-im, ù li-ša-nim ša ta-ni-iš-tim, lá da-am-qí-im a-na sà!-lá-¶i-kà, a-tù-ru iš-tù-BA ar-nam ù, ší-látim i-šu-a-ku-ni mì-nam, a-qá-bi (ce passage est cité et traduit par Larsen 2001:282 et n. 43). Les commérages sont parfois accompagnés de ‘mots incendiaires’, ex-

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tue pas toi ni ne m’assassine pas moi! Tu es mon père et mon maître; puisque je suis censé être devenu quelqu’un qui te porte atteinte par des propos et des commérages de mauvaises gens à cause de l’affaire de Hannan-nārum, et puisque je suis vraiment censé n’avoir que faute et crime envers toi, alors que puis-je dire?’ Les oreilles, uznān, interviennent le plus souvent comme complément d’objet direct du verbe patā’um, ‘ouvrir’, dans le sens d’ ‘informer’:62 ‘informe-moi avec attention de tout ce que tu entendras de la bouche de notre père’. Ce mot apparaît encore avec les verbes šakānum ‘poser, placer’ et bašā’um ‘être’, dans le sens de ‘prêter attention, être vigilant’,63 ou encore avec nadā’um utilisé dans le même sens:64 ‘de même que (je porte toute) mon attention (mes yeux) aux affaires de la maison de notre père, soyez vigilants’. Enfin l’expression uznam lapātum ‘toucher l’oreille’, apparaît à plusieurs reprises dans les procès-verbaux paléo-assyriens; elle est utilisée pour réclamer l’attention des témoins sur une déclaration précise:65 ‘celui qui a prêté le serment de la Ville a réclamé notre attention avec insistance’.

pression qui utilise la même image en akkadien: awātum ¶im¢ātum (Hirsch 1967; Larsen 2001:280–281). 62 TC 2, 44:13′–17′: úz-ni, pì-té ma-lá a-wa-tim, i-pì a-bi4-ni da-mì-iq-tám, ù da-mìiq-tám-ma, ta-ša-me-ú ‘informe-nous très précisément de tout ce que tu entendras de positif de la bouche de notre père’. Le verbe est le plus souvent à l’impératif : uz-ni pé/è-té/e9(-a) par exemple dans les textes CCT 2, 11a:23 (Michel 2001, No. 126); CCT 2, 11a:22; Prag I 655:4′; ICK 1, 13:30 (Michel 2001, No. 102); KTS 2, 22:17–18 et CCT 3, 36a:15 (Michel 2001, No. 60): ú-za-ni : pè-té. Il est également employé à l’infinitif, VS 26, 52:4–6: (kīma) … uz-ni-a pá-ta-/em, ¶i-im-¢átim ù a-ra-tim, ta-áš-ta-na-pá-ra-am ‘au lieu de m’informer, tu ne cesses de m’envoyer des (mots) incendiaires et des injures!’; TC 3, 90:32–33: ki-ma, úz-ni-im páta-im : ta-sà-li-a-ni, ou à d’autres formes conjuguées; CCT 4, 18a:8 (Michel 2001, No. 203): ú-za-kà lu pá-ta-a-at; VS 26, 45:9′–10′ (Michel 1991, No. 10): [uz-ni], liip-té; CCT 2, 34:36 (Michel 2001, No. 274): mì-šu-um uz-ni lá tap-té; BIN 6, 27:13– 14 (Ichisar 1981:293): uz-[ni], lá i-pì-tí; Kt 83/k 117:22 (Michel 2001, No. 44): ú-zaku-nu : ni-pá-té. Pour d’autres références, cf. CAD P 352–353. 63 Avec šakānum: ú-za-ku-nu, lu ša-ak-na-at-ma, ‘soyez vigilents!’ (TC 3, 81:20– 21, Michel 2001, No. 191). Cf. CAD Š1 146 (sub uznu) qui donne le sens dérivé de ‘convoiter’. Avec bašûm: ú-za-kà li-ib-ší-ma (BIN 6, 15:11, Michel 2001, No. 217), úza-kà lá i-ba-ší (TC 2, 9:6, Michel 2001, No. 183). 64 TC 3, 81:25–28: ki-ma e-ni-a a-na, a-wa-tim ša É a-bi4-ni, ú-za-ku-nu, lu na-ad-at. 65 TPAK 1, 168:15–16: [ša] ni-iš [A-l]imki, [ú]z-na-tí-ni il5-pu-ut; AKT 3, 53:24; BIN 4, 107:13–14; Kt n/k 1339:33–34 (Çeçen 1995:51, 63); TC 3, 267:19–20. Pour cette expression qui serait équivalente à ka’’ilā, ‘souvenez-vous (de ceci)!’, cf. Dercksen 1997–1998:338a.

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2.2. Le tronc Comparé aux parties du visage et aux extrémités des membres, le tronc est peu représenté; il se résume à trois mots: libbum ‘le cœur, l’intérieur’, sūnum ‘le sein, le giron’ et ´ērum ‘le dos’. Le mot libbum ‘le cœur’, voire ‘l’esprit’, sert en akkadien à formuler toutes sortes de sentiments; son usage dans la littérature épistolaire paléo-assyrienne a récemment été analysé par M. T. Larsen qui relève les sens suivants:66 – – – – – – – – – –

avec le verbe namārum ‘briller’: être heureux;67 avec le verbe elā’um ‘monter’: être soulagé;68 avec le verbe marā´um ‘être malade’: être triste, désolé;69 avec le verbe lemēnum ‘être mauvais’: être en colère, l’expression lumun libbim désignant la colère;70 avec le verbe parādum ‘craindre’: être inquiet, malade;71 avec le verbe tadānum ‘donner’: encourager;72 avec le verbe ¢a’’ubum ‘rendre bon’: satisfaire;73 avec le verbe nuā¶um ‘être apaisé’: être rassuré, être à l’aise;74 avec le verbe ¶adā’um ‘être heureux’, au système II: réjouir;75 avec le verbe nasā¶um ‘tirer, extraire’: être désespéré.76

À cette liste, il est possible d’ajouter d’autres constructions, comme par exemple l’usage de libbum avec le verbe atwu’um pour signifier ‘insinuer’, 66

Larsen 2001:278–279. Ne sont retenus ici que les expressions qui utilisent libbum ‘cœur (d’une personne)’; le mot est également employé pour les choses inanimées: ina libbi mātim, ‘au cœur du pays’. 67 Larsen 2001:279, n. 21 (TC 3, 13:14–17): ma-áš-ká-tí-a, a-na-ší-a-ma, li-ba-kà, i-na-me-er. 68 Larsen 2001:279, n. 22 (Prag I 430:20–22): ma-áš-kà-tám KÙ.BABBARpí 1 GÍN, ša tù-šé-ba-lá-ni : lá-mur-ma, li-bi : le-li-a-ma lá-a¶-du. 69 Prag I 638:12′–13′: šu-ma lá ta-li-kam ma-dí-iš, li-ba-kà i-ma-ra-a´. 70 TC 3, 93:32–36 (Michel 2001, No. 253; Larsen 2002, No. 14): i-na pá-ni-tim, lu-mu-un li-bi4-a ma-ad ù li-ba-kà, i-de8 : um-ma a-na-ku-ma ù-um-šu-ma sà-¶e-er, ù awa-at ì-lí iš-té-me li-ba-kà, lá ú-la-mì-in ‘au début, ma colère était grande, et tu le savais bien! Je pensais: “Jusqu’à maintenant, il n’a cessé d’être en retard, mais il a écouté le commandement divin. Il ne peut pas t’avoir mis en colère” ’. 71 TC 3, 25:12–14: ša-al-ma-ku, mì-ma li-ba-kà, lá i-pà-ri-id, et les nombreux exemples cités par le CAD P 142a. 72 RA 58, 121:15–17 (Michel 1991, No. 15): li-ba-am, a-na a-wi-lim, dí-in. 73 BIN 6, 187:20–21: li-bi4, um-mì-a-ni-kà ¢á-ib. Cet usage, bien attesté par les sources babyloniennes, correspond au terme générique désignant la ‘satisfaction’ dans les contrats. 74 CCT 4, 18b:13–14: li-[bi4], a-wi-lim li-nu-ù¶. 75 KTS 1b:21–22: li-bi4, a-bi4-ka ¶a-dí (¶addi, imp. II). 76 ICK 1, 17:10: ù li-bi4-i : na-as-¶u.

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avec le verbe ´arāpum à traduire par ‘s’enflammer’ ou avec le verbe išārum avec pour sens ‘être juste’:77 ‘il insinue le mal dans son cœur! Il n’est pas juste envers toi!’ Le terme libbum intervient très souvent dans l’expression lā libbi ilimma ‘contre la volonté du dieu’, que l’on traduit par ‘hélas!’; elle précède généralement l’annonce de la mort de quelqu’un: ‘Hélas! Ma femme est morte’,78 mais peut également servir de prélude à l’indication d’un revers de fortune: ‘Hélas! J’ai subi des pertes’.79 Il est aussi utilisé avec un pronom suffixe comme dans l’expression ša libbišu ‘de son choix/qu’il préfère’. En dehors de ces usages, libbum sert généralement, dans le vocabulaire technique commercial paléo-assyrien, à désigner ‘le compte (d’un marchand)’. Le terme sūnum désigne la partie du corps comprise entre la ceinture et les genoux. Employé avec le verbe šakānum ‘placer’, il symbolise la protection et s’applique dans plusieurs lettres de Kaniš à une jeune fille que l’on veut consacrer. C’est ainsi qu’à plusieurs reprises Lamassī écrit à son mari pour qu’il vienne présider la consécration de sa fille:80 ‘la petite a grandi, montre-toi un homme d’honneur, viens et place-la dans le sein du dieu Aššur’. Le mot ´ērum, ‘le dos’, rarement utilisé au sens propre, apparaît généralement associé à une préposition de la manière suivante: ina ´ēr ‘sur, à la charge de’, ina ´ēr suivi du subjonctif, ‘non seulement’ et ana ´ēr ‘chez,

77

TC 3, 93:19–21 (Michel 2001, No. 253; Larsen 2002, No. 14): lá-am-na-tim, i-na li-bi4-šu e-ta-wu, li-bu-šu lá eš-ru-ni-ku-um (noter que cette dernière proposition est au pluriel, ce qui n’apparaît pas dans la traduction). Pour l’usage de libbum avec ´arāpum, cf. Kt 91/k 385:6: li-bu-šu : i-ta-na-a´-/ra-áp; l’expression est analysée par Veenhof (2007:294) qui propose la traduction suivante: ‘every time he bursts out’. Les expressions figurées construites avec libbum sont nombreuses et cette liste est loin d’être exhaustive; K. R. Veenhof me signale par exemple la phrase ina libbi NP atlukum ‘être oublié par NP’, BIN 4, 45:4–5 (Michel 2001, No. 187); VS 26, 56:33 (Michel 2001, No. 76) et RA 59, p. 170, No. 30, ll. 20–21. On peut également ajouter l’usage de libbum comme sujet de ´abātum dans le texte BIN 6, 23:6–8 (Michel 2001, No. 69): a-na-kam : É.GALlúm i-ša-tum, e-ku-ul-ma : li-bi4 ša-rutim, i-´a-ba-at-ma ‘Ici le feu a consumé le palais et cela occupa l’esprit des princes’. 78 C’est ainsi que Pūšu-kēn annonce à son correspondant le décès de son épouse: la li-bi, DINGIR-ma a-ší-tí me-ta-at (TC 1, 30:3–4). 79 Chantre 15:4–5: lá li-bi-i i-li-ma, i-bi-sà-e a-ta-mar. 80 BIN 4, 9:20–23 (Michel 2001, No. 304): ´ú-¶a-[a]r-tim, ir-tí-bi4 : ku-ta-bi4-itma, al-kam a-na sú-un, dA-šur : šu-ku-ší. Voir également les lettres RA 59, p. 159 (Michel 2001, No. 306) et CCT 3, 20 (Michel 2001, No. 307). C’est également l’endroit où l’on cache des marchandises lorsque l’on se livre à la contrebande, cf. BIN 4, 48:23 (Michel 2001, No. 176).

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pour, en plus de’. Il est attesté, précédé d’une préposition, avec le verbe amārum, dans une construction dont le sens n’est pas limpide:81 ‘qu’ils regardent dans/sur son dos celui qui place la parole des dieux pour celle du genre humain’. Selon M. T. Larsen, il faut comprendre:82 ‘que (les dieux) s’intéressent à ceux qui mettent davantage de poids dans leurs paroles que dans celles des hommes’; il est aussi possible de traduire l’expression ainsi:83 ‘que l’on montre du doigt celui qui (fait suffisamment peu de cas) des paroles divines pour les considérer comme de (simple) paroles humaines’. Le dos intervient également dans quelques images utilisant des réalités de la nature, chacune apparemment employée de manière unique; par conséquent, les expressions ‘boire de l’eau sur le dos de quelqu’un’ ou ‘porter le ciel sur le dos’ seront analysées plus loin. 2.3. Les membres Bras et jambes ne sont guère attestés dans la documentation paléo-assyrienne, en revanche leurs extrémités, les mains et les pieds sont d’usage courant, et šēpum ‘le pied’, semble avoir été utilisé occasionnellement pour désigner la jambe.84 De même que ´ērum ‘le dos’, qātum ‘la main’, intervient le plus souvent comme préposition ou associé à une préposition. Par ailleurs qātum peut être détourné de son sens propre dans le vocabulaire technique commercial pour désigner aussi ‘la part’ dans une entreprise commerciale, et le mot au pluriel, qātātum, renvoie au ‘garant’, celui qui tient les mains du débiteur pour l’assister. En d’autres occurrences, tout comme rēšum ou pānum, qātum peut renvoyer à la personne avec un sens réflexif lorsqu’il comporte un pronom suffixe.85 Le mot qātum peut être soit sujet soit complément d’objet direct d’un verbe. Dans le premier cas, son emploi avec le verbe enā’um ‘changer’,

81 TC 3, 93:8–11: i-na ´é-ri-šu le-mu-ru, ša a-wa-at : ì-lí, a-na ša ta-ni-iš-tim, i-šaku-nu. 82 Larsen 2002, No. 14. 83 Michel 2001, No. 253. 84 HUCA 40–41, pp. 51–52, ll. 5–11, cf. Gwaltney 1983, No. 24 (Ichisar 1981:76– 77; Larsen 2002, No. 127): ´ú-ub-ri : wa-áš-ba-/at-ma, iš-tí : a-ni-ú-tim, a-na wa-´a-e-ma, ¶u!-zi-ru-um : e-ki-ri-/ma, am-qú-ut-ma : šé-pì, áš-tí-bi4-ir-ma, ak-ta-lá ‘Mon personnel était prêt à partir avec ces (autres personnes) lorsqu’un cochon m’a attaqué, je suis tombé et je me suis brisé la jambe, par conséquent je suis retenu (ici)’. 85 VS 26, 31:8–9: ¢up-pá-am qá-ta-kà, lu-la-pí-ta-ma ‘écris la tablette toi-même’, littéralement ‘que tes (deux) mains écrivent la tablette’.

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renvoie à la façon d’agir, ou à l’attitude d’une personne:86 ‘changez votre attitude! Auquel d’entre vous devrais-je quelque chose?’ L’usage de qātum avec wabālum ‘porter’ prend le même sens en akkadien et en français, ‘porter la main sur, toucher à’. Informé d’un procès impliquant le commerce de divers types d’étoffes, un marchand supplie son correspondant ainsi:87 ‘je t’en prie, ne touche plus aux étoffes sapdinnum et pirikannum, ne les achète pas!’ L’emploi de qātum avec le verbe e´ēlum ‘paralyser’, indique une lenteur dans l’action, en parlant d’un versement à effectuer:88 ‘j’apprends que la main du marchand est lente (à payer)’. Dans une lettre d’un père à son fils, particulièrement chargée en émotion, qātum est sujet du verbe nabalkutum ‘se rebeller, traverser’, expression que l’on peut traduire par:89 ‘il a commis un crime!’ L’utilisation de qātum comme complément d’objet direct est fréquente avec le verbe ma¶ā´um ‘frapper’; mais contrairement au français où l’on se tape la main en signe d’accord (toper), dans le dialecte paléo-assyrien, ‘frapper la main’ signifie ‘refuser un accord’:90 ‘Relativement à ce que tu as écrit à propos de Kulumāya, en accord avec ta lettre, nous ne (le) rejetterons pas ni nous ne t’embarrasserons’. L’usage de qātum complément d’objet direct du verbe ´abātum ‘saisir’, possède deux sens différents; soit il correspond simplement au verbe ‘prendre’,91 soit il se traduit par ‘aider, assister’:92 ‘du fait que j’étais malade, ne sois pas affligé, Aššur et ton dieu m’ont pris par la main, et j’ai guéri’. 86 TC 3, 63:9–10: qá-at-ku-nu : e-ni-a, a-na ma-nim : mì-nam : i-na, ba-ri-ku-nu : ¶a-bu-lá-ku. Voir également CCT 4, 32a:21. 87 VS 26, 9:20–23 (Michel 2001, No. 199): a-pu-tum a-na sà-áp-dí-ni, ù pì-ri-kàni, qá-at-kà lá tù-ba-al-/ma, la ta-ša-am. 88 TC 2, 5:13–14: a-ša-me-ma DAM.GÀR, qá-sú e´-lá-at. 89 TC 3, 93:22 (Michel 2001, No. 253): qá-sú na-bá-al-ku-ta-at. Larsen (2002, No. 14) a traduit cette ligne ainsi: ‘His hand is turned away’. 90 BIN 6, 59:4–6 (Michel 2001, No. 313): a-dí ša Ku-lu-ma-a ša ta-áš-pu-ra-ni, ama-la na-áš-pé-er-ti-kà : qá-tám, la ni-ma-¶a-a´ ù-la nu-ba-áš-kà. Voir également TC 2, 17:8–10: a-wi-lu-um, iš-tap-ra-am qá-ta-am, lá am-¶a-a´ ‘l’homme m’a écrit, je n’ai pas pu refuser’; CCT 3, 44a:13–14: qá-tí Tù-ra-mì-il5, lá ta-ma-¶a-´a. Ce sens a été établi par Balkan 1967:396, n. 2. En paléo-babylonien, l’expression synonyme utilisée est qātam napā´um. 91 BIN 6, 52:7′–9′: qá-tí, a-ší-tí-kà : ´a-áb-tá-ku, a-tal-kam ‘prends la main de ta femme et viens’. 92 CCT 4, 14b:6–9 (Michel 1991, No. 89): a-na ša am-ru-´ú-ni mì-ma, i-na li-bi4kà lá ta-ša-kán, A-šùr ù il5-kà : qá-tí, i-´a-áb-tù-ma : áš-tí-lim. Cf. également Prag I 663:14–15. La traduction de cette expression par ‘aider’ est bien attestée dans le corpus paléo-babylonien, de même que d’autres expressions utilisant la main et

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Les mentions les plus fréquentes de šēpum renvoient au ‘convoi’ de marchandises affrété par un commerçant.93 Lorsque šēpum correspond au ‘pied’, il peut être utilisé comme complément d’objet direct pour désigner la personne, sujet du verbe de mouvement. Il intervient alors avec le verbe akāšum ‘bouger’:94 ‘je déplacerai mes pieds (j’irai) là où je dois’. De même il est employé avec tadānum ‘donner’, avec le sens de ‘se mettre en route’,95 ou avec qerēbum ‘être proche’, pour signifier ‘approcher’96. Le mot šēpum apparaît plus rarement avec d’autres verbes d’action. Il peut être le sujet du verbe parāsum ‘couper’, avec pour sens: ‘être bloqué’.97 On le trouve également comme complément de kabāsum ‘écraser’, pour signifier ‘mettre au courant, avertir’; selon J.-M. Durand, cette expression, connue par les archives de Mari, serait équivalente à ‘faire du pied à quelqu’un’ afin d’attirer son attention:98 ‘lorsque l’on m’en eut averti, je le fis arrêter’. L’emploi de šēpum avec le verbe ´abātum est courant dans les sources akkadiennes; il renvoie au pied d’une autorité supérieure, voire d’une divinité. Dans une lettre de Lamassī à son mari, celleci le supplie de venir à Aššur pour rendre hommage et se soumettre à son dieu en utilisant cette formule šēp ili ´abātum ‘saisir le pied du dieu’.99 Enfin, deux expressions uniques font intervenir simultanément la main et le pied. Dans la première, les extrémités des membres sont sujets du verbe trembler, ra¶ābum, pour exprimer l’émotion d’individus aperce-

que l’on trouve à la fois à Kaniš et dans la documentation d’autres sites ou d’autres époques; on citera par exemple qātam našā’um ‘lever la main (pour prêter serment)’ (Kt n/k 794:31–32, cf. Michel 2001, No. 87), mala qassu ikaššuduni ‘autant qu’il pourra en faire’. 93 Larsen 1967:95–96; Michel 1992 et Veenhof 2008:217–218. 94 CCT 4, 38a:5–6 (Michel 2001, No. 182): šé-pé-e-a : a-šar : ú-ku-ší-im, ú-kà-áš. 95 CCT 2, 1:22–23, 25 (Michel 2001, No. 144): a-na Bu-ru-uš-¶a-tim, šé-pè-a ada-an-ma … u-za-kà-ma i-šé-pì-a ú-ba-lá-kum ‘je me mettrai en route pour Burušhattum … je te l’apporterai en personne’. 96 CCT 3, 25:19–20 (Michel 2001, No. 345): ú a-wi-lúm, šé-ep-šu : a-na A-limki liiq-ru-ba-am ‘et que l’homme s’approche de la Ville’. 97 VS 26, 71:14–15: a-na kà-ri-im : šé-pí, pá-ar-sà-at ‘mon accès au kārum est bloqué’; šēpum est ici utilisé au singulier et non au duel. 98 Cf. Durand 1988:154, n. e et Durand 1998:510, n. b. BIN 6, 58:28–30: kima šé-pì, [ik]-bu-sú-ni e-mu-qá-tám, [a-´a]-ba-sú-ma; šēpum est ici utilisé au singulier et non au duel. 99 CCT 3, 20:38–40 (Michel 2001, No. 307): ú ´ú-¶a-ar-tum da-ni-iš, ir-tí-bi tí-iba-ma a-tal-kam a-na sú-ni A-šur, šu-ku-ší ù šé-ep ì-lí-kà ´a-ba-at ‘la petite a beaucoup grandi, mets-toi en route, viens la placer dans le sein du dieu Aššur et saisir le pied de ton dieu’.

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vant de l’or:100 ‘(s’)ils voient de l’or, (leurs) mains et (leurs) pieds trembleront’. La seconde émane d’une femme qui écrit à son fils retenu par le palais son inquiétude et ses tourments:101 ‘mets-toi en route et viens, pour ce qui est des dieux et des démons qui ne cessent de venir, j’ai placé mes mains et mes pieds’, cela signifie sans doute qu’elle se protège comme elle peut des catastrophes qui pourraient survenir. 2.4. Vivre, mourir, manger et sentir Outre les différentes parties du corps, quelques verbes exprimant les fonctions vitales de celui-ci sont fréquemment détournés de leur sens propre, soit pour personnaliser un objet, soit encore pour amplifier la portée du discours. K. R. Veenhof a montré comment, dans le vocabulaire technique commercial, l’argent pouvait prendre vie, fructifier, avec l’usage du verbe balā¢um, vivre, ou au contraire être affamé, barā’um, c’est-à-dire être stocké au lieu d’être productif par le biais d’investissements.102 De même, la tablette de créance, qui représente un certain capital meurt, muātum, ou est tuée, duākum, lorsque l’argent ayant été remboursé, elle n’a plus aucune valeur juridique.103 Le verbe balā¢um est employé dans un sens figuré par Ištar-bāšti dans une lettre adressée à l’un de ses frères cadets: ‘Pourquoi toi et ton frère vous disputez-vous l’un l’autre pour votre or et votre argent? Lequel a commencé la dispute? Moi je vais vous guérir!’ Elle indique ainsi son intention de calmer et réconcilier ses frères.104 Le verbe muātum, quant à lui, intervient à plusieurs reprises, en guise d’hyperbole, dans des missives dont les auteurs expriment leur désespoir dû à une situation catastrophique, souvent financière, dans laquelle ils se trouvent. Plusieurs femmes utilisent cette figure de style dans leur correspondance. Zizizi explique ainsi sa situation à ses parents:105 ‘Ma sœur Šiduna est morte et 100

BIN 4, 99:13–15: KÙ.KI e-mu-ru-ma, qá-ta-an : ú šé-pá-an, i-ra-¶u-ba. Kt 93/k 296:17–20: a-na ša i-li : ú ša ú-tù-ki, ša i-ta-na-lu-ku-ni-/ni, qá-tí-i : ú šé-pí-i, áš-ta-kán. 102 Veenhof 1987:62. 103 Veenhof 1987:47–48. 104 TC 3, 112:9–14 (Michel 2001, No. 350): mì-šu-ú ša a-ta ù a-¶u-kà, ša i-na bari-ku-nu-ma, a-na KÙ.BABBARpì-ku-nu ù KÙ.GI-ku-nu, tù-uš-té-´a-a-ni ma-nu-um, iš-tí ma-nim-ma tù-uš-té-´a-a, a-na-ku ú-ba!-lá-a¢-ku-nu-/ma. 105 Prag I 688:4–20 et 27–30: Ší-du-na a-¶a-tí, me-ta-at, ù a-ni : A-al-DU10, ma-ri-i´, úlá a-le-e-ma, KI ma-ma-an, ú-lá a-ta-w[u], ú ma-ma-an, ša-ba-am ú-lá, i-da-nam, a-bi4 a-ta belí a-ta, um-mì a-ti, i-na u4-mì-im, ša ¢up-pì ta-ša-me-a-ni, ¢up-pá-am lá-pí-ta-ma, ¢up-pá-am : awa-tim, dam-qá-tim lá-pí-ta-ma (…) ¢up-pá-kà li-li-kam-ma, li-ba-am dì-na[m], šu-ma e-´í-ìš 101

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maintenant Al-¢āb est malade. Je n’en peux plus; je ne peux parler à personne et personne ne me donne satisfaction! Tu (es) mon père et mon maître, tu (es) ma mère. Dès que vous prendrez connaissance de ma lettre, écrivez-moi un message, et écrivez de gentils mots dans la lettre (…) Que ta lettre me parvienne et encourage-moi! Si aucune lettre de vous ne me parvient rapidement, j’en mourrai!’ Le verbe akālum ‘manger, s’alimenter’, est volontiers détourné de son sens propre pour être appliqué à l’argent, sous toutes ses formes, profits ou dettes; il peut alors se traduire par ‘jouir’ ou encore ‘dépenser’. C’est ainsi qu’un père conseille à son fils:106 ‘je vais acheter deux talents d’étain et je te les enverrai afin que tu jouisses des bénéfices! (Mais) tu ne dois rien dépenser de mon argent’. Un autre exemple, plus dramatique, émane d’une femme qui se plaint de ne pas avoir suffisamment pour se nourrir et conclut par cette métonymie:107 ‘moi, ici, je n’ai que des dettes à manger’. Le verbe ‘manger’ prend occasionnellement comme sujet un sentiment négatif qui mine celui qui l’emploie; un marchand accuse son fils d’agir contre la loi et a peur des conséquences:108 ‘Tu ne cesses de m’envoyer de l’argent frauduleusement, et on déduit les droits d’entrée dans les maisons des autres; tes méfaits sont nombreux, c’est pourquoi des angoisses te concernant n’ont cessé de me dévorer!’ Comme la langue vernaculaire aime l’emphase, certaines femmes n’utilisent pas le verbe ‘manger’, mais plutôt ‘avaler’, pour signifier à leurs époux, par exemple, l’importance des frais occasionnés par l’éducation des enfants ou par l’entretien des serviteurs:109 ‘ne sais-tu donc pas ¢up-p[á-kà], lá i-li-kam a-mu-a-at!. Ce texte a été réédité par Kryszat 2007 qui propose d’identifier Zizizi avec Ištar-bāšti, fille d’Imdīlum. Voir également la correspondance de Kunnanīya, cf. KTH 5 (Michel 2001, No. 385). Noter que le mot nēberum, ‘point de passage, gué’, est utilisé en paléo-assyrien pour exprimer la mort de quelqu’un: ba-áb né-be-ri-šu, ‘au moment de trépasser’ (RA 60:128, 25 = OAA 1, No. 154). 106 CCT 3, 6b:17–21 (Michel 2001, No. 254; Larsen 2002, No. 22): 2 GÚ AN.NA, la-áš-a-ma lu-šé-bi-la-ku-ma, né-ma-al-šu, a-kukúl : mì-ma i-na, KÙ.BABBARpì-a : la ta-kál. 107 ATHE 44:28–29 (Michel 2001, No. 319): a-na-ku a-na-kam, ¶u-bu-lam : a-kà-al. 108 KTS 1, 15:4–8 (Michel 2001, No. 161): KÙ.BABBARáp-kà i-sà-al-e, tù-uš-té-néba-lá-ma ú É, ša-ni-ú-tim ni-is-¶a-tim i-na-sú-¶u, ú ší-lá-tù-kà ma!-da-ma, ú pì-ir-da-tùkà : e-ta-ak-lá-ni. Avec le même usage, K. R. Veenhof me signale le texte inédit Kt c/k 266:17–18: i-a-tí ´í-¶a-tum, ša bi-tí-im e-kà-lá-ni ‘(Toi, là-bas tu manges et tu bois mais) moi, ici, les soucis pour la maisonnée me dévorent’. 109 CCT 4, 15c (Michel 2001, No. 327):5–9: lá tí-de8-e ki-ma, KÙ.BABBAR 1 mana.TA, i-šu qá-tí-ni, ´ú-¶a-ru-ni, ¶a-al-tù-ni. La correction proposée par le CAD Š1 239a (¶a-al-qú-ni ‘dilapident’) offre un sens équivalent.

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que nos garçons ont pour habitude d’avaler chaque mine d’argent que nous possédons?’ Elles utilisent également ce verbe pour expliquer les relations parfois tendues. Lamassī, désireuse d’être bien considérée par ses voisins, enjoint son époux de rentrer afin d’agir comme un bon père qui organise le meilleur avenir pour sa fille:110 ‘Tu entends comme le genre humain est pervers, chacun est prêt à avaler son voisin!’ Le verbe ‘sentir’, exceptionnel dans les sources paléo-assyriennes, intervient dans un dicton populaire:111 ‘tu refuses de m’envoyer les esclaves alors que tu es capable de donner mes (propres) esclaves à Irišum et Innāya! Par Aššur et Ilabrat, chaque fois que (les choses) puent, elles sont senties!’ L’auteur de cette lettre dénonce ainsi les actes malhonnêtes de son correspondant, actes que ce dernier ne peut tenter de dissimuler; en français, les expressions: “tout finit par se savoir” ou “la gale ni l’amour ne se peuvent cacher” n’ont pas la connotation négative de l’acte dévoilé. En revanche l’expression proverbiale “même bien enfouie, la charogne se révèle par son odeur” conserve en outre l’aspect olfactif. 3. Les figures de styles construites sur les réalités de la nature Les figures de style construites sur les réalités de la nature, moins fournies en exemples que les parties du corps humain, témoignent également d’un langage direct, souvent chargé en émotions. Parmi les quatre éléments, l’eau et la terre se prêtent aux images, l’air intervient dans le mot ciel et le feu apparaît de manière détournée, sous le verbe brûler. Plusieurs assyriologues ont étudié l’expression ‘mots incendiaires’, awātum ¶im¢ātum, construite sur le verbe ¶amā¢um ‘brûler’.112 Les espèces animales, généralement très présentes dans les expressions proverbiales akkadiennes, sont exceptionnellement utilisées ainsi dans les lettres de Kaniš. 3.1. L’eau, le ciel et la terre L’eau, élément vital pour le corps, est pourtant rarement attestée comme boisson contrairement à la bière, voire au vin.113 Lorsqu’elle intervient

110

RA 59, p. 159, ll. 3–6 (Michel 2001, No. 306): ta-ša-me-ma : ta-ni-iš!-/tum, il5!té-mì-in, a-¶u-um : a-na a-¶i-im, a-na ¶a-lá-tim : i-za-az. 111 TPAK 1, 47:13–20: ÌRdí : šé-ru-a-am, lá ta-mu-a a-na, I-ri-ší-im ù I-/na-a, ÌRdí-a i-ta-du-nam, ta-le-e A-šùr, ù dNIN.ŠUBUR lu i-/dí-a, i-ma-tí i-ba-i-ša-/ni, i-´í-na. 112 Cf. ci-dessus n. 61. 113 Michel 1997:103–105.

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comme complément d’objet du verbe ‘boire’, elle sert alors à la construction d’une tournure imagée. Ainsi, Šū-Kūbum, qui réclame sa part des bénéfices à ses associés, leur écrit:114 ‘personne ne doit boire de l’eau à mes dépends (litt. sur mon dos)’ et Pūšu-kēn termine l’une de ses lettres par cette déclaration:115 ‘L’homme de Širun ne doit pas boire de l’eau à leurs dépends’ (litt. “sur leur dos”). L’expression ‘boire de l’eau sur le dos de quelqu’un’ signifie ‘profiter d’une situation au détriment de quelqu’un’; elle prend peut-être sa source dans l’usage partagé des canaux d’irrigation. Lorsqu’un cultivateur utilise trop d’eau pour son champ, ses voisins n’ont plus d’eau pour arroser leurs cultures, qui dépérissent. Un contrat de vente témoigne de ce partage: le vendeur se défait de quatre champs et d’un verger jouxtant ses propres champs; le document précise:116 ‘toute l’eau d’irrigation qui s’écoulera sera pour eux deux (vendeur et acheteur)’. L’eau du ciel, la pluie, et les conséquences d’un orage sont également évoquées dans les premiers mots d’une lettre pathétique d’Aššur-idī à son fils:117 ‘comme par le pied d’Adad courant, ma maison est inondée’, une métaphore que l’on peut comprendre de la manière suivante: ‘Ma maison est dévastée comme si (elle avait subi) l’assaut du dieu de l’Orage (en pleine) course’. Le dialecte paléo-assyrien n’utilise pas le terme akkadien traditionnel er´etum pour désigner ‘la terre’ par opposition au ciel (sauf dans les incantations), mais plutôt le mot qaqqurum, qui renvoie au ‘sol’. Ce vocable sert généralement pour définir la ‘situation’ dans laquelle se trouve un individu. Aššur-rē´i décrit ainsi la position délicate de son père, accusé de contrebande par le palais:118 ‘mon père se trouve dans une situation difficile, et le palais surveille la maison de mon père’. Ce terme désigne aussi ‘le sol’, au sens propre, lorsque, dans une situation particulièrement 114

Kayseri 90:20–22 (Michel 1991, No. 79): ma-ma-an : ma-e, i-´é-ri-a, lá i-ša-tí. BIN 4, 29:44 (Michel 2001, No. 201): Šu-ru-ni-um ma-e i-´é-ri-šu-nu lá i-ša-tí; pour ce passage, cf. Veenhof 1987:43. 116 Kt o/k 52:10–11 (Albayrak 2001:308, 311): ma-e ší-qí-tim, ša i-lu-ku-ni ša ki-lále-šu-/nu-ma. Ce texte est repris par Dercksen 2008:149. 117 CCT 4, 1a:3–4 (Michel 2001, No. 261; Larsen 2002, No. 13): ki-ma šé-ep dIM ra-pì-dim, Étí ra-¶i-i´. 118 KTS 1, 37a:14–17 (Michel 2001, No. 205): a-bi-i, i-na qá-qí-ri-im da-nim, waša-áb : ú Éet a-bi-a, É.GALlúm i-na-´a-ar. Voir également CCT 2, 47b:25; Akkadica 18, 33:23 (avec une discussion sur le sens de qaqqurum dannum); CCT 2, 43a:18; KTK 17:7. Le mot er´etum est employé dans les incantations Kt a/k 320 (Hecker 1996), Kt 94/k 520:22 (Barjamovic–Larsen 2008) et l’inédit Kt 91/k 502:10. 115

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dramatique, le locuteur a l’impression qu’il se dérobe sous ses pieds. Kunnanīya, une Anatolienne dont le mari assyrien est décédé et qui est dépouillée par sa belle-famille, écrit:119 ‘si tu (es) ma sœur et si tu m’aimes véritablement (écoute-moi)! Je n’en peux plus, je vais mourir! Mon sol n’est plus’, c’est-à-dire ‘je n’ai plus d’issue!’ La terre elle-même, réduite à l’ ‘argile’, ¢i¢¢um, qui en est le principal composant en Mésopotamie, sert de synecdoque pour la tablette, support du courrier:120 ‘comment se faitil … que j’ai épuisé l’argile de cette ville en ne cessant de t’envoyer des lettres, alors que tu ne m’envoies pas d’argent et que je n’entends jamais rien?’ Le ciel est évoqué pour illustrer l’immensité et son usage s’inscrit dans une connotation négative. Cette comparaison intervient dans une lettre d’Aššur-taklāku à son épouse secondaire. Excédé des remontrances de cette dernière, il écrit:121 ‘Parce que des affaires aussi vastes que les cieux sont mises sur mon dos, alors toi, tu ne cesses de m’écrire (des lettres) incendiaires!’; l’équivalent de cette expression en français serait: “porter tout le poids du monde”. L’image d’un ciel que l’on ne peut atteindre est employée pour exprimer une taille infinie:122 ‘je leur ai procuré des ¶urātim qui étaient si long (qu’ils atteignaient) le ciel’. À défaut de l’air, le vent, šārum, intervient exceptionnellement comme synonyme de ‘mensonges’:123 ‘ce sont des mensonges (vents), en fait un mensonge (vent) de ta propre bouche!’ Cette métaphore met l’accent sur la ‘légèreté’ de propos peu importants ou mensongers que le vent emporte. Deux expressions françaises utilisent le vent dans un sens équivalent: “ce n’est que du vent”, se dit de promesses faites à la légère, ou encore “autant en emporte le vent”, des promesses auxquelles on n’ajoute pas foi, voire des menaces dont on ne craint pas les effets.

119

KTH 5:3–6 (Michel 2001, No. 385): šu-ma : a-¶a-tí : a-tí, ma ke-na-tí-ma ta-rai-mì-/ni, lá al-té-e : a!-mu-wa-/at-ma, qá-qí-ri-i : lá-šu. 120 Kt 89/k 232:4 et 6–10: mì-nu-um ša … ¢í-¢á-am, ša a-limki : a-nim i-na, tí-ša-puri-im : ag-da-am-ra-ku-ni-ma, ú KÙ.BABBAR : lá tù-šé-ba-lá-ni, ú mì-ma-ša-ma : lá a-šame-ú (texte cité par Veenhof 2008:201, n. 8). L’auteur note que cette expression est également attestée dans les documents AKT 4, 30:28–29, 31–32: ¢í-¢ám ša alimki i-na šu-té-bu-lim, ag-da!-mar : a-tí-i (…) ma-tí-ma : na-áš-pè-er-tí-ki, lá i-lá-kam, et Kt n/k 161:37–38: ù ¢í-tá-am ša Kà-ni-iš, ni-ig-da-am-ra-kum. 121 RA 51:6, 11–15 (Michel 2001, No. 396): a-šu-mì-i : i-´é-ri-a, a-wa-tum ša maal-a, ša-me-e na-ad-a-ni, ù a-tí ¶i-im-¢á-tim, ta-áš-ta-na-pí-ri-im. 122 CCT 4, 6c:18–20: ¶u-ra-tim, ša a-dí ša-ma-im a-ru-ku-ni, áš-ta-kà-šu-nu-tí. 123 KUG 14:15: ša-ru ù ša-ar pí-k[à].

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3.2. Des métaphores animalières exceptionnelles Contrairement au corpus de proverbes sumériens et à la littérature akkadienne, où les métaphores utilisant le monde animal abondent, le corpus épistolaire paléo-assyrien ne fait guère usage des animaux dans le langage figuré, sans doute principalement parce que les marchands, du fait de leur mode de vie, ne fréquentent que quelques espèces. Les ânes, qui servent au transport de leurs marchandises, ou les bêtes, dont ils consomment la chair comme le mouton, le bœuf 124 ou le porc, ne sont pas encore attestés dans des figures de style. Les archives épistolaires de Mari font en revanche abondamment référence aux animaux dans les proverbes et le chien y est omniprésent.125 Cet animal est également très fréquent dans les lettres néo-assyriennes où les auteurs s’y comparent pour s’auto-humilier.126 Il apparaît, comme un terme de mépris pour un inférieur, dans une lettre découverte à Kaniš, qui toutefois n’émane pas d’un Assyrien mais de la chancellerie anatolienne, plus précisément du prince de la ville de Māma; elle est adressée à Waršamma, prince de Kaniš, avec lequel il est en conflit. Ce dernier ayant fait allusion au lien de vassalité unissant le roitelet de Ta’išama à lui-même, Anum-hirbi de Māma résume la relation de la manière péjorative suivante:127 ‘puisque le Ta’išaméen est ton chien, pourquoi donc s’acoquine-t-il avec d’autres roitelets? Le Sibuhéen, mon chien, s’acoquine-t-il, lui, avec d’autres roitelets? Est-ce que le prince de Ta’išama est à présent devenu notre égal?’ L’usage d’une telle métaphore s’explique 124

Une expression difficile à comprendre fait mention du bœuf ; elle intervient dans un document juridique tenant lieu d’acte de divorce et qui décide du sort des enfants. La mère obtient la garde de sa fille et peut décider de la marier à l’homme de son choix; le père peut prendre avec lui son garçon après avoir réglé à sa femme des indemnités d’entretien, versement qui intervient ‘lorsque le petit garçon aura peur devant un bœuf ’, TC 2, 76:21–23: i-nu-mì ´ú-ù¶-ru-um, ipá-ni GU4 i-pá-ri-du, ù KÙ.BABBAR i-dá-an. Il me semble que cette phrase doit être prise au sens propre, car elle pourrait renvoyer à l’âge auquel un jeune enfant apprend la peur, vers deux ou trois ans, période qui coïncide par ailleurs avec le sevrage. Une autre interprétation consiste à y voir là un rite de passage au moment de la puberté. 125 Durand 2006:11–12. 126 Villard 2000 et Kogan 2003:251. 127 Kt g/k 35:8–17, en dernier lieu Michel 2001, No. 62: iš-tù-ma, Ta-i-ša-ma-iú-um kà-lá-áb-kà-ni, a-mì-nim iš-tí ša-ra-ni-e ša-ni-ú-tim, i-dá-ba-áb, ša-ni-ú-tim i-da-baáb, Sí-bu-¶a-i-ú-um kà-al-bi, iš-tí ša-ra-ni-e ša-ni-ú-tim, i-da-bu-ub ru-ba-um Ta-i-š[a-mai-ú-um], a-na ša-al-ší-ni ru-ba-im, i-tù-wa-ar. Un tel usage du chien est également fréquent dans la correspondance d’El-Amarna.

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peut-être par la présence au palais d’un rabi kalbātim ‘chef des chiennes’, sans doute en charge d’un élevage de canidés.128 Les marchands assyriens, quant à eux, croisent l’animal lors de leurs déplacements. Une incantation contre le chien noir errant montre en effet que celui-ci attaque parfois les caravanes marchandes sur la route.129 Le comportement du chien est évoqué dans une lettre inédite envoyée par Lamassātum, qui reproche à son frère de renier sa maison:130 ‘tu as rejeté la maison comme des chiens (le feraient) et tu ne t’en occupes pas!’ Cette affirmation ferait allusion au chien qui dort à l’extérieur et donc ne s’intéresse pas à ce qui se passe à l’intérieur. * * * Le dialecte paléo-assyrien se caractérise donc par un détournement du sens premier de nombreux mots pour enrichir le vocabulaire technique commercial. C’est le cas par exemple pour certains mots désignant des parties du corps humain comme libbum dans la formulation ina libbi ‘propriété de’, qātum ‘la part dans une entreprise’ ou šēpum dans l’expression šēp NP ‘(marchandise) transportée sous la responsabilité de/convoi de’;131 cette pratique rend parfois les tablettes de Kaniš un peu obscures pour l’assyriologue. La correspondance assyrienne abonde également en figures de style, de nombreuses images étant utilisées pour exprimer les sentiments ou pour amplifier le discours par une pratique fréquente de l’exagération. Beaucoup d’expressions imagées figurent entre autres dans les lettres féminines qui laissent généralement davantage de place aux sentiments. Cette langue fleurie, proche du langage vernaculaire, semble avoir fait partie de l’apprentissage scolaire des marchands d’Aššur et de Kaniš, comme en témoignent les fragments d’un grand texte scolaire conservé sur plusieurs colonnes et découvert en 1969 et 1970 dans le kārum. Il s’agit d’une longue liste d’expressions utilisées dans les lettres;132 parmi celles-ci figure par exemple un exercice sur la conjugaison des verbes au

128

GAL kalbātim: AKT 3, 41:17; Chantre 2:21; Kt c/k 1641:17. Kt a/k 611 publiée par Veenhof 1996. ! 130 Kt 93/k 241:14–17: ki-ma, kà-al-be-e, Ébé-tám ta-dí-ma, lá ta-ša-ar. Cette expression peut aussi se comprendre par: ‘comme (si tu avais affaire à) des chiens’. 131 Cette expression existe déjà en sumérien, le mot gìr désignant le responsable pour le transfert de biens. 132 Le texte a été reconstitué à partir de deux fragments, Kt v/k 7 et Kt u/k 31 et publié par Hecker (1993:282–285). 129

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système II avec les phrases suivantes:133 ‘tu m’as discrédité dans le kārum’, ‘alors que toi, tu as obtenu de l’argent, mon propre argent tu l’as gaspillé…’. Ce texte scolaire propose aussi quelques expressions utilisant les parties du corps:134 ‘à tes yeux (tu considères comme)’ ou encore ‘et tu as rendu mon cœur mauvais (tu m’as mis en colère)’. On peut en conclure que les Assyriens recevaient une éducation scribale différente de celle des Babyloniens, qui leur permettait de transcrire leur dialecte tel qu’ils le pratiquaient à l’oral; cela explique sans doute en partie le nombre conséquent des lettres paléo-assyriennes, leur caractère vivant et leur contenu riche en détails sur la vie de tous les jours. Bibliographie Albayrak 2001 Balkan 1957 Barjamovic–Larsen 2008 Çeçen 1995 Çeçen 1997

Charpin 2008 Dercksen 1997–1998 Dercksen 2008

Dhorme 1923 Donbaz 1984 Donbaz 2001

Albayrak, İ. Kültepe metinlerinde geçen mā’û ‘‘su’’ kelimesi. AMMY 2000:300–311. Balkan, K. Letter of King Anum-Hirbi of Mama to King Warshama of Kanish (TTKY 7/31a). Ankara. Barjamovic, G.; Larsen, M. T. An Old Assyrian Incantation against the Evil Eye. AoF 35:144–155. Çeçen, S. mūtānu in den Kültepe-Texten. ArAn 1:43–72. Çeçen, S. Kaniš Kārum’unun diğer kāarum ve wabartumlar’a “KÙ.AN” (amutum) ile ilgili önemli talimatları. Belleten 61:219–232. Charpin, D. Lire et écrire à Babylone. Paris. Dercksen, J. G. Compte-rendu de TPAK 1. AfO 44–45: 333–339. Dercksen, J. G. Observations on Land Use and Agriculture in Kaneš. Michel, C. (éd.). Old Assyrian Studies in Memory of Paul Garelli (OAAS 4 = PIHANS 112). Leyde. Pp. 139–157. Dhorme, E. L’emploi métaphorique des noms de parties du corps en hébreu et en akkadien. Paris. Donbaz, V. A Kültepe Text from the Museum at Adana (237B). AfO 31:15–24. Donbaz, V. Ma¶ar patrim ša Aššur—A New Interpretation. Van Soldt, W. H. et al. (éd.). K. R. Veenhof Anniversary Volume. Studies Presented to Klaas R. Veenhof on the Occasion of his Sixty-Fifth Birthday (PIHANS 89). Leyde. Pp. 83–101.

133 A ii′ 2–3: i-na kà-ri-im, tù-uq-ta-li-li; A ii′ 6–8: ú a-ta : am, KÙ.BABBAR tù-sà-pì-i¶-ma. 134 A iii′ 30: e-ni-kà; A iii′ 14–15: ù li-bi4-i, tù-ul-ta-mì-im.

KÙ.BABBAR,

tár-tí-ší i-a-

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Durand 1988 Durand 1998 Durand 2006 Gruber 1980 Gwaltney 1983 Hecker 1993

Hecker 1996 Hirsch 1967 Ichisar 1981 Kogan 2003 Kogan–Koslova 2006

Kryszat 2007 Larsen 1967 Larsen 1971 Larsen 1976 Larsen 2001

Larsen 2002 Larsen 2008

Michel 1991 Michel 1992

Durand, J.-M. Archives épistolaires de Mari. I/1 (ARMT 26). Paris. Durand, J.-M. Les documents épistolaires du palais (LAPO 17). Paris. Durand, J.-M. Dictons et proverbes à l’époque amorrite. JA 294:3–38. Gruber, M. I. Aspects of Nonverbal Communication in the Ancient Near East (StP XII/1–2). Rome. Gwaltney, W. C. The Pennsylvania Old Assyrian Texts (HUCA Sup 3). Cincinnati. Hecker, K. Schultexte von Kültepe. Mellink, M. J.; Porada, E.; Özgüç, T. (éd.). Aspects of Art and Iconography: Anatolia and its Neighbors. Studies in Honour of Nimet Özgüç. Ankara. Pp. 281–291. Hecker, K. Schultexte aus Kültepe: ein Nachtrag. NABU 1996/30. Hirsch, H. Zornige Worte. ZA 58:104–109. Ichisar, M. Les archives cappadociennes du marchand Imdīlum. Paris. Kogan, L. On Some Animal Names in the Languages of Ancient Syrian and Mesopotamia. AuOr 21:249–256. Kogan, L.; Koslova, N. Compte-rendu de Dercksen, J. G. (éd.). Assyria and Beyond. Studies Presented to Mogens Trolle Larsen. Leiden, 2004. B&B 3:589–612. Kryszat, G. Eine Dame mit Namen Zizizi. AoF (Fs. I. Wegner) 34:210–218. Larsen, M. T. Old Assyrian Caravan Procedures (PIHANS 22). Istanbul. Larsen, M. T. Slander. Or 40:317–324. Larsen, M. T. The Old Assyrian City-State and Its Colonies (Mesopotamia 4). Copenhague. Larsen, M. T. Affect and Emotion. Van Soldt, W. H. et al. (éd.). K. R. Veenhof Anniversary Volume. Studies Presented to Klaas R. Veenhof on the Occasion of his Sixty-Fifth Birthday (PIHANS 89). Leyde. Pp. 275–286. Larsen, M. T. The Aššur-nādā Archives (OAA 1 = PIHANS 96). Leyde. Larsen, M. T. Archives and Filing Systems at Kültepe. Michel, C. (éd.). Old Assyrian Studies in Memory of Paul Garelli (OAAS 4 = PIHANS 112). Leyde. Pp. 77–88. Michel, C. Innāya dans les tablettes paléo-assyriennes. Paris. Michel, C. Transporteurs, responsables et propriétaires de convois dans les tablettes paléo-assyriennes. Réflexions sur les expressions šēp NP et ellat NP. Charpin, D.; Joannès, F. (éd.). La circulation des biens, des personnes et des idées dans le Proche-Orient ancien (CRRAI 38). Paris. Pp. 137–156.

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Michel, C. À table avec les marchands paléo-assyriens. Waetzold, H.; Hauptmann, H. (éd.). Assyrien im Wandel der Zeiten (CRRAI 39 = HSAO 6). Heidelberg. Pp. 95–113. Michel, C. Quelques réflexions sur les archives récentes de Kültepe. Alp, S.; Süel, A. (éd.). III. Uluslararası Hititoloji Kongresi. Çorum, 1996. Ankara. Pp. 419–433. Michel, C. Correspondance des marchands de Kaniš au début du IIe millénaire av. J.-C. (LAPO 19). Paris. Michel, C. Old Assyrian Bibliography of Cuneiform Texts, Bullae, Seals and the Results of the Excavations at Aššur, Kültepe/Kaniš, Acemhöyük, Alişar and Boğazköy (OAAS 1 = PIHANS 97). Leyde. Michel, C. Old Assyrian Bibliography 1 (February 2003 —July 2006). AfO 51:436–449. Michel, C. La pratique de l’écriture et du calcul par les marchands assyriens du début du IIe millénaire av. J.-C. Tarhan, T.; Tibet, A.; Konyar, E. (éd.). Muhibbe Darga Armağanı. Istanbul. Pp. 345–364. Michel, C. La correspondance des marchands assyriens du XIXe s. av. J.-C.: de l’archivage des lettres commerciales et privées. Pantalacci, L. (éd.). La lettre d’archive. Communication administrative et personnelle dans l’Antiquité proche-orientale et égyptienne (Topoi Sup 9 = BiGen 32). Le Caire. Pp. 117–140. Michel, C. The Alāhum and Aššur-taklāku Archives Found in 1993 at Kültepe Kaniš. Kryszat, G. (éd.). AoF (Fs. K. Hecker) 35:53–67. Michel, C. Femmes au foyer et femmes en voyage: le cas des épouses des marchands assyriens au début du IIe millénaire av. J.-C. Rogers, R.; Thébaud, F. (éd.). Voyageuses, le genre du voyage, voyage et genre. Clio. Histoire femmes et sociétés 28:18–38. Michel, C. Les femmes et l’écrit dans les archives paléoassyriennes. Briquel-Chatonnet, F.; Farès, S.; Lion, B.; Michel, C. (éd.). Femmes, cultures et sociétés dans les civilisations méditerranéennes et proches-orientales de l’Antiquité. (Topoi Sup 10). Lyon. Pp. 253–272. Mindlin, M.; Geller, M. J.; Wainsbrough, J. E. Figurative Language in the Ancient Near East. Londres. Oppenheim, L. Idiomatic Accadian (Lexicographical Researches). JAOS 61:251–271. Veenhof, K. R. Aspects of the Old Assyrian Trade and Its Terminology (SDIOAP X). Leyde. Veenhof, K. R. A Deed of Manumission and Adoption from the Later Old Assyrian Period. Van Driel, G. et al. (éd.). Zikir šumim. Assyriological Studies Presented to F. R.

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Kraus on the Occasion of his Seventieth Birthday. Leyde. Pp. 359–385. Veenhof, K. R. ‘Dying Tablets’ and ‘Hungry Silver’ … Elements of Figurative Language in Akkadian Commercial Terminology. Mindlin, M.; Geller, M. J.; Wainsbrough, J. E. (éd.). Figurative Language in the Ancient Near East. Londres. Pp. 41–75. Veenhof, K. R. An Old Assyrian Incantation against a Black Dog (Kt a/k 611). WZKM 86 (Fs. Hans Hirsch):425– 433. Veenhof, K. R. The Old Assyrian Period. Westbrook, R.; Jasnow, R. (éd.). Security for Debt in Ancient Near Eastern Law (CHANE IX). Leyde–Boston–Cologne. Pp. 93–159. Veenhof, K. R. Archives of Old Assyrian Traders. Brosius, M. (éd.). Archives and Archival Tradition. Concepts of Record Keeping in the Ancient World. Oxford. Pp. 78–123. Veenhof, K. R. Sisterly Advice on an Endangered Marriage in an Old Assyrian Letter. Roth, M.; Farber, W.; Stolper, M.; von Bechtolsheim, P. (éd.). Studies Presented to Robert D. Biggs, June 4, 2004. Chicago. Pp. 285–303. Veenhof, K. R. Communication in the Old Assyrian Trading Society by Caravans, Travelers and Messengers. Michel, C. (éd.). Old Assyrian Studies in Memory of Paul Garelli (OAAS 4 = PIHANS 112). Leyde. Pp. 199–246. Villard, P. Le chien dans la documentation néo-assyrienne. Parayre, D. (éd.). Les animaux et les hommes dans le monde syro-mésopotamien aux époques historiques (Topoi Sup 2). Lyon. Pp. 235–249. Watanabe, C. E. Animal Symbolism in Mesopotamia—A Contextual Approach (WOO 1). Vienne. Wilcke, K. A Riding Tooth: Metaphor, Metonymy and Synecdoche. Quick and Frozen in Everyday Language. Mindlin, M.; Geller, M. J.; Wainsbrough, J. E. (éd.). Figurative Language in the Ancient Near East. Londres. Pp. 77–102.

Structural Analysis of Enmerkara and the Lord of Arata* Catherine Mittermayer Universität Tübingen

Since its first publication by Samuel Noah Kramer in 1952, the story of Enmerkara1 and the Lord of Arata2 has been a matter of considerable debate. In this paper I argue, that the composition as a whole bears many features of the Adamin. Focusing on the main section of the story, the disputation between the two lords, I will demonstrate that it is built of two interconnected disputes, with one inserted into the other. While the protagonists Enmerkara and the Lord of Arata each take turns initiating one of these disputes, it is always the former who emerges as the clear winner. 1. Outline of the story The tale is divided into five parts:3 * Throughout this paper literary texts are quoted after the conventions of Mittermayer 2006 (add PrColl = Proverb Collection), the standard abbreviations follow PSD and RlA. The sign values are those of Attinger apud Mittermayer 2006. I wish to express my thanks to Alexandra Kleinerman who was kind enough to look over my English. 1 There are two reasons pointing to a vocalic ending of the name: first there is no genitive written after Enmerkara as in EnmEns 114 (ki×2-ge4-a en-me-erkara2), and second, there are several texts (Lgbd II 292 und 327 Text AA, 359 Text A; EnmEns 39 Text G) adding a phonetic complement ra after the last syllable (en-me-er-kara2ra), what makes a reading en-me-er-kara2 instead of en-me-erkar2 highly probable. 2 There are several writings rather pointing to Arat/da than Aratta in old Babylonian times, as for example a-ra-ta // (-š)a-ra-da in Keš Hymn ll. 13f. (prov. unknown), a-ra-ta in CLAM 547 iv 12 (Kiš) und a-ra-ta(-a) in PrColl 9 Sec. A 3 (Susa); notice furthermore the ED writing a-ri2-da from Ebla. 3 Previous commentators divided the story into smaller sections based on a scenic approach. Compare for example Lambert 1955:215–220, who identified nine scenes (leaving out prologue and conclusion). Wilcke 1992:576f. suggested to differentiate ten episodes each defined by its respective location. Only Vanstiphout 2003:50–52 preferred a primary division into Argument (ll. 1–32), Contest (ll. 105–541) and Resolution (ll. 542–636+), which he however subdivided as well into rather small sections.

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I. prologue: II. transition section 1: III. main section: IV. transition section 2: V. conclusion:

1–32 33–104

background: Ø trading

storyline: actors and scenes → Enmerkara’s plea to Inana (raw materials) debate between the lords Iškur appears; origins of Arata

√ trading

← union of Inana and Enmerkara

105–541 542–576 577–637?

The background story as sketched in the prologue and the conclusion is the upcoming long distance trade between Babylonia and the Iranian plateau. As is clarified in ll. 12 and 16–19 no goods were exchanged prior to the events described in the story: 12 Delmun did not yet exist […]. 13–15 (…) 16 […] were not carried, trading did not yet exist, 17 […] were not carried (as well), there was no long distance trade. 18 [Gold, sil]ver, copper, tin and blocks of lapis lazuli 19 […] were not yet brought down from the mountains.4

But by the end it is stated in ll. 617–625 that the first trading goods are being prepared for delivery to Uruk: 617 As soon as they had been assigned their tasks, 618 the people of Arata 619 got ready to exchange gold, precious metals and lapis lazuli. 620–623 (…) 624 For Inana, Lady of the Eanna, 625 they will heap them up in piles in the courtyard of the Eanna.5

Against this backdrop the storyline evolves. The prologue introduces the two protagonists namely Enmerkara (ll. 1–27) and the nameless Lord of Arata (ll. 28–32) with their cities Uruk and Arata respectively.6 The first transition section begins with Enmerkara’s plea to Inana, in which 4 12–19: kur delmunki in-nu [x x x] SKAT / (…) / [x x] Sx x x nu?T-il2 bala nu-AKe / [x x x] Snu?T-il2 nam-gagaeš nu-AK-e / [ku3-si22 ku3]-babbar uruda AN.NA na4 lagab za-gin3-na / [x x k]ur-bi-ta teš2-ba nu-mu-un-e11-de3. 5 617–625: Seš2T-gar3 [(x) i]m-ma-an-du3-a-gen7 / Snam-lu2-lu7Tl[u] arataSkiTa-ke4 / ku3-Ssi22 ku3T na4[za?-g]in3? bala AK-Sde3 si bi2-in-sa2T / (…) / dinana SninT e2-an-Sna-raT / kisal e2-an-naki?-ka kuru13-še3 mu-Sun-dubT-bu-ne. 6 Such an introduction of two main characters in the beginning of a story reminds us of the Adamin. But there is a difference in the way they are presented: whereas in the debate poems the disputants are normally introduced in a neutral way (with the exception of HoPl and EnmEns), in our story there is a clear distinction between the two and clear preference for Enmerkara.

S T

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he asks for access to Arata’s raw materials (ll. 38–64). Because—as the background story informed us—trade has not yet come into existence, Enmerkara is dependent on her help. In response Inana grants him her affection and predicts his victory over the Lord of Arata (ll. 69–104). These events lead over to the main section, which describes the dispute between Enmerkara and the Lord of Arata (ll. 105–541) and which is terminated by Iškur in the second transition section. After a short digression concerning the origins of Arata, Enmerkara is—in the concluding part of the story—united with Inana in a rite resembling the Sacred Marriage Ritual (ll. 577–594). It is followed by a divine judgment and declaration of fate (ll. 600–602), constituting the peaceful exchange of goods between Uruk and Arata (ll. 617–625), thus linking the conclusion of the plot to the background story. The story as a whole bears many features of the classic debate poems, the Adamin, most notably the division of the tale in five episodes—as outlined above—which are easily related to the constituents of a classic Adamin: I. II. III. IV. V.

prologue: transition section 1: main section: transition section 2: conclusion:

introduction of the disputants argument (occasio litigandi) debate (stand-off is effectuated) judgment and conciliation

As in all the Adamin, the prologue of our story introduces the disputants. Then, in our first transition section—Enmerkara’s plea to Inana— the occasio litigandi is mentioned (namely Enmerkara’s claim to power over Arata’s resources). This in turn is followed by the main section, the disputation between the two lords, with Enmerkara clearly being the stronger of the two contestants. The second transition section of Enmerkara and the Lord of Arata, however, cannot be related to the classic Adamin. It has a special purpose, which might best be described as functional. By bringing rain to Arata, and thereby causing a rich harvest, Iškur compensates Enmerkara’s superiority for the Lord of Arata and effectuates a stand-off between the two parties.7 Due to his intervention, the Adamin takes its regular course, that is, the winner is determined by divine judgment. The conclusion describes this divine judgment, which is most likely spoken by Inana: 7 The intervention of Iškur is nothing but a short moment of final suspense or—to use a German dramaturgical expression—ein retardierendes Moment. Wilcke 1992:577 referred to the classic term deus ex machina to describe Iškur’s role.

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Sumerian and Akkadian Literature and Literary Language 600 This is, what she decreed in his (= Enm.) presence in [Ar]ata: 601 “[…] shall be piled up and brought together, 602 […] in your …, your wealth.”8

The text concludes with the conciliation and peaceful coexistence of Uruk and Arata as trade partners. 2. The Main Section (ll. 105–541) a) Content The main section of Enmerkara and the Lord of Arata is a self-contained part of the story and should therefore be separated from the trading topic of the background story. It was planned and arranged in a highly artistic way consisting of an elaborate game of demands and counter demands, which the two lords assign to each other. A messenger acts as middleman: Traveling seven times back and forth between Uruk and Arata, he delivers their messages. 1. demand

precious metals in bags on donkeys

no!

solution

barley in wide-meshed nets on donkeys

1. riddle

2. demand

scepter as powerful as the one of Enmerkara

no!

solution

scepter from a hitherto unknown material

2. riddle

no!

dog in a hitherto unknown color

3. riddle

counter riddle

garment in a hitherto unknown color

As with the classic debate poems the appeal of the main section lies in its entertainment value, which becomes especially apparent in the portrayal of the protagonists. The two lords are diametrically opposed characters with heavily exaggerated features. Whereas Enmerkara masters everything self-confidently from start to finish, the lord of Arata turns out to be a pretty ridiculous ruler.9 As will be seen, this difference between 8

600–602: [x ar]ataki(-)a-na an-da-be2-a / [x ¶e2]-em-dub-dub gu2 ¶e2-em-×ar×ar / [x]SxT (-)za-a ¶e2-×al2-SzuT. 9 In EnmEns too, the discrepancy between the two lords increases throughout the story.

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the two lords is not only made on the level of content but on that of structure as well, and is further supported by stylistic devices. The dispute between the two lords is opened by Enmerkara. He sends a messenger to Arata with the threat to destroy the city, if the Lord of Arata does not accept the following demand: 1. demand: The Lord of Arata is to transport precious metals in bags on donkeys (to …) in order to build a temple (or a temple complex) for Enmerkara!

The lord of Arata rejects this demand vehemently and—in response— invites Enmerkara to a battle of wits that ought to show himself as the superior one. Without waiting for an answer he opens this contest with the following riddle: 1. riddle: Enmerkara is to transport barley in nets with wide meshes on donkeys to Arata!

Enmerkara is able to solve this riddle thanks to the aid of Nisaba. He soaks part of the barley in order to get malt, by which he reduces the wide meshes of the nets. Afterwards he fills in the requested barley and sends the messenger back to Arata. Along with the barley Enmerkara sends the lord of Arata a second demand: 2. demand: The Lord of Arata is to manufacture a scepter as powerful as Enmerkara's in order to demonstrate, that his own strength is equal to that of the Lord of Kulaba!10

Here a wise man of Arata comes forward with the proposal to deceive Enmerkara by pretending to submit to him: 371 Let us submit in an empty and deceitful way 372 to the lord of Kulaba [with …] carnelian.11

But the lord of Arata does not agree to his plan, instead he decides to ask Enmerkara another riddle: 2. riddle: He is to manufacture a scepter from a hitherto unknown material (neither wood, nor metal nor stone)!

This time, Enmerkara solves the riddle on the basis of instructions he receives from Enki. By means of magical items he manufactures a scepter 10

And not—as previously thought—that he has to produce one from Enmerkara’s scepter. 11 371–372 me-en-de3 su3-ga lul-la-SbiT-[eš2] / en kul-aba4ki-a-ra na4gug SxT [x + edge] ga-mu-na-dur2-ru-ne-en-Sde3T-e[n].

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from a material that is first described as being semi-fluid (like oil) and, which, after a long period of weathering, becomes stiff, perhaps a reference to resin. Enmerkara sends the scepter without any comment or message to Arata. As the lord of Arata catches sight of this scepter he starts to panic and—for a short moment—he thinks of agreeing to the wise man’s plan of deception (mentioned above). But instead—as before—he decides to ask Enmerkara a third riddle: 3. riddle: He is to send him a dog in a hitherto unknown color!

This time Enmerkara refuses to solve the riddle, and as the lord of Arata did he prefers to ask him one himself. In the course of a very long, tripartite message he submits the following to him: 1. counter riddle: He is to send him a garment in a hitherto unknown color! 473 (…) tu9· ¶u-SmuT-ra-ab-šum2-mu ‘(…) he shall give you (such) a garment’12

For the first time in the story the lord of Arata should now have the opportunity to demonstrate his cleverness. But this never comes to pass: the messenger is completely overburdened by his lord’s words and can hardly keep them in mind. It is there and then that Enmerkara invents writing: He grasps a piece of clay and writes the message down (literally: ‘he puts the matter on the clay’). Receiving the first clay tablet, the Lord of Arata is completely taken aback by it as, naturally, he could not read the message. Unable then to respond to Enmerkara’s demand, he would have been defeated, were it not for Iškur’s intervention. Thus Enmerkara’s greatest triumph is not the two riddles he solves by divine assistance, but the spontaneous invention of writing. It is an invention, which he makes by himself, without any support, that would bring him the victory over the lord of Arata. b) Structure On the level of structure the main section can be considered from two different angles. In the overall structure of the story it represents the debate between Enmerkara and the Lord of Arata. This “large” Adamin is opened by Enmerkara and his first demand. But—embedded in this de12 Thus the garment is not part of Enmerkara’s solution as has hitherto been assumed, but rather the counter claim. In other words, he will only send his dog to Arata if the Lord of Arata is able to produce such a garment himself.

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bate—there is another one, the “small” Adamin, which is explicitly stated as being an Adamin. This one is opened by the Lord of Arata with his first riddle:

The small Adamin consists of the three riddles, comprising the task itself, Enmerkara’s solution and his follow-up demand. As such, the Lord of Arata is the instigator, who asks his disputant three seemingly unsolvable riddles. But Enmerkara, being the reactor, proves his great intellect through his clever solutions to the Lord of Arata’s challenges. In doing so, he makes the Lord of Arata look weak, although he was the original instigator.13 The small Adamin is enclosed by Enmerkara’s first and last demand, which cover his first message (ll. 115–135) and the third part of his seventh message (ll. 486–496). In these passages he calls on his opponent to submit to his will. Both messages have similar wordings14 and show very close parallels in structure. But they differ in length with the Lord of Arata’s response being rather brief compared to Enmerkara’s more extensive demand:

13

115–123 Lest I … , 124–129 after he has … , 130–133 he shall have … .

(na-prefix) (u-prefix) (¶e2-prefix)

9 l. 6 l. a total of 19 lines 4 l.

487–490 Lest I … , 491 after he has … , 492–494 he shall have … .

(na-prefix) (u-prefix) (¶e2-prefix)

4 l. 1 l. a total of 8 lines 3 l.

The same can be found in EnmEns, where the Lord of Arata is also both the initiator and the loser of the dispute, an otherwise unusual feature of the Adamin poems. 14 Some lines are even repeated verbatim, as for example 115//487: iri-ni irsa×sa× mušen-gen7 ×eš-bi-ta na-an-na-ra-ab-dal-en, 117//489: KI.LAM ×al2-la-gen7 na-an-si-ig-en.

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Both paragraphs show the same structure: Enmerkara first threatens the lord of Arata indirectly (by saying ‘lest I do …’), later he adds his demands (as ‘he shall have build …’ or the like). They result in the following order: 134 ‘As soon as holy and fate-setting songs are resounding in its chambers 135 tell him the fate-setting song15 of Nudimmud!’16 495 ‘His order, the one of Nudimmud, 496 his omen shall be known. Tell him this!’17

The large Adamin comprises the main section as a whole: it opens with Enmerkara’s first demand and closes with the transmission of the last, similarly composed message to the lord of Arata. Therefore the large Adamin gives the expected development in which the initiator is the ultimate winner of the debate. As such, in the large Adamin Enmerkara is the instigator, while the lord of Arata is just the reactor. From this point of view those elements previously referred to as riddles turn out to be counter demands. When formulating these the lord of Arata is always picking up a motif from the demand of his opponent. He modifies the original demand and frames his answer based on this. And if that were not enough, he also adjusts his counter demand on the level of structure, sometimes even adopting the same wording:18 1) delivering precious metals in bags on donkeys → delivering grain in nets on donkeys

The first motif is “delivering something in a receptacle.” Both claims are built on prospective verbal forms (/u/-): 124// After having packed gold nuggets into leather bags a-ba-ni-in-AK 125// and placed pure metal in its ore alongside, za3 u3-ba-ni-in-us2 15

For a discussion of the term nam-šub and its translation by ‘fate-setting song’ see the introductory chapters to Mittermayer 2009. Cf. also FlückigerHawker 1999:260–263 and Cohen 1975. 16 134–135: E2.NUN.E2.NUN-ba ser3 ku3 nam-šub du12-a-ba / nam-šub dnu-dim2mud-da-kam e-ne-ra du11-mu-na-ab. 17 495–496: enim du11-ga dnu-dim2-mud-a-ka / ×ešgem-a-SniT ¶e2-zu-zu e-neS raT du11-mu-na-ab. 18 What makes him once more look like the weaker of the two lords.

C. Mittermayer, Structural Analysis of Enmerkara… 126// after having baled these precious metals 127// and loaded them onto mountain asses,19 (128ff.// he shall have built for me …) 281 After having poured barley into wide meshed nets 282 and loaded them onto pack-asses, 283 with remounts placed at their side,20 (284 after having piled up heaps of barley in the courtyard of Arata

385

u3-mu-un-dim2-dim2 para10 um-mi-in-la2-la2

u3-mu-ni-in-si-si um-mi-in-la2 a-ba-an-si3 tukumbi … mu-dub-be2)

2) manufacturing of a scepter as powerful as Enmerkara’s → manufacturing of a scepter from a hitherto unknown material

The second motif is the “manufacturing of a scepter.” Whereas Enmerkara uses only positive phrasings in his description of the scepter the lord of Arata chooses a negative selection process: 340 ‘My scepter’s roots are the power of lordship, 341 its branches provide a protection for Kulaba, 342 under these widely ramified branches in the shrine Eanna 343 holy Inana refreshes herself.’21 398 ‘A scepter! It may not be of wood, nor be referred to as wood! 399 When he placed … into his hand and you? inspected it, 400 it may neither be of poplar nor of wood from the olibanum tree, x nam-me y nam-me (401–408 neither wood nor metal nor precious stone)’22 or: x y nam-me

19

124//–127//: ku3-si22 u3-du2-da-ba kušLU.UB2/LU.UB2.ŠIR a-ba-ni-in-AK / ku3 me-a sa¶ar-ba za3 u3-ba-ni-in-us2 / ku3 sa×-PA-še3 u3-mu-un-dim2-dim2 / anše kurkur-ra-ke4 para10 um-mi-in-la2-la2. 20 281–283: še sa-al-kad4-e u3-mu-ni-in-si-si / anše para10 la2-e um-mi-in-la2 / anše bala-e da-bi-a a-ba-an-si3. 21 340–343: ×idru-×a2 ur2-bi me nam-nun-na-ka / pa-bi kul-abaki-a an-dil2-eš i3-AK / pa mul-mul-la-bi eš3 e2-an-na-ke4 / ku3 dinana-ke4 ni2 im-ši-ib-te-en-te. 22 398–408: ×idru ×eš SnamT-me mu ×eš na-an-še21-še21 / Sx x šuT-na um-ma-niin-×ar igi um-mi-bar-bar / ×eš e4eldig nam-me ×eššem-ge17 nam-me / [×]eš¶a-šu-ur2 namme S×ešTŠIM nam-me / [×e]šeren nam-me ×ešza-ba-lum nam-me / [×e]ššu-ur2-me nam-me ×eš dašgari nam-me / ×ešasar2 KA ×eš gigir2-ra nam-me / ×ešKID-da ×eš kušusan3-na nam-me / ku3-si22 nam-me uruda nam-me / ku3 me-a zi ku3-babbar nam-me / na4gug nam-me na4zagin3 nam-me.

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Both demand and counter demand end on three identical lines: 344/409 ‘ “After having cut out (such) a scepter himself, it shall be with him, 345/410 it shall be placed in his hand like a string of carnelian or lapis lazuli beads, 346/411 and the Lord of Arata/Kulaba shall bring that to me.” Tell him that!’23

With Enmerkara’s refusal to perform the third task the previous pattern of the story is broken and the roles are reversed. That is, the lord of Arata now makes the demand to which Enmerkara is forced to react. As hitherto the lord of Arata responded, now Enmerkara rejects the demand and asks the Lord of Arata a riddle. This gives the impression that Enmerkara is making fun of the Lord of Arata by imitating him in an exaggerated way, as here the demand and counter demand bear the most resemblance: 3) sending a dog in a hitherto unknown color → sending a garment in a hitherto unknown color

It obviously has the motif “sending something in a hitherto unknown color” and the only difference consists in the object: a dog on the part of the Lord of Arata and a garment on the part of Enmerkara: 457/471 ur/tu9 na-an-gegge-ge 458/472 ur/tu9 na-an-su4-e 459/473 ur/tu9 na-an-si12-Ssi12T-ge

ur/tu9 na-an-babbar-re ur/tu9 na-an-tara4-e ur/tu9 na-an-GUNU3.GUNU3-gu2 ur/tu9 ¶u-mu-ra-ab-šum2-mu

457/471 ‘A dog/garment! He may dye it neither black nor white, 458/472 neither brown nor dark red, 459/473 neither greenish nor pied; he shall give you (such) a dog/garment!’

For logical reasons one line is added in Enmerkara’s counter claim: 474 ‘(Only then) I will send to him my dog, “the Guda×al? of Enlil”.’24

But again both messages result in the same lines: 460/475 ‘My dog will (then) struggle with his dog, 461/476 and may everybody know the stronger one! Tell him that!’25

23

344–346/409–411: ×idru um-ta-an-kid7 ¶u-mu-un-da-×al2 / na4gug ×eš-dili za-gin3 ×eš-dili-gen7 šu-ni-a ¶u-mu-un-×al2 / en arataki-ke4 / kul-aba4ki-a-ke4 igi×u10-še3 ¶u-mu-un-DU e-ne-ra du11-mu-na-ab. 24 474: ur-S×u10 gu2?-da?-×al2?-den-lil2T-la2 ur šu ga-SmuT-na-Staka4T. 25 460–461//: ur-×u10 ur-ra-ni a-da-min3 ¶e2-em-da-e / a2 ×al2 ¶e2-zu-zu e-ne-ra du11-mu-na-ab. na4

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For the first time in the story the lord of Arata would now get the opportunity to match Enmerkara in solving riddles. But he is incapable of responding to the challenge, because he is unable to read the tablet with the message. Once more, he is shown to be less competent than Enmerkara. That is, however we look at the story, the Lord of Arata always turns out to be the weaker of the two contestants. As we have seen, in this tale repetition is intentionally employed as a stylistic device to judge the disputants. By using similar motifs and sentences the responses from the lord of Arata seem unassertive and dependent. It is also interesting to note that only Enmerkara’s messages are repeated and not those of the lord of Arata, indicating a clear emphasis in favor of Enmerkara in the main section of the story. References Cohen 1975 Cohen 1988 Flückiger-Hawker 1999 Kramer 1952 Lambert 1955 Mittermayer 2006

Mittermayer 2009 Vanstiphout 2003 Wilcke 1992

Cohen, M. E. The Incantation-Hymn: Incantation or Hymn? JAOS 95:592–611. Cohen, M. E. The Canonical Lamentations of Ancient Mesopotamia (CLAM). Ann Arbor. Flückiger-Hawker, E. Urnamma of Ur in Sumerian Literary Tradition (OBO 166). Fribourg. Kramer, S. N. Enmerkar and the Lord of Aratta. A Sumerian Epic Tale of Iraq and Iran. Philadelphia. Lambert, M. Le jeu d’Enmerkar. Syria 32:212–221. Mittermayer, C. Altbabylonische Zeichenliste der sumerischliterarischen Texte (unter Mitarbeit von P. Attinger) (OBO Sonderband). Fribourg. Mittermayer, C. Enmerkara und der Herr von Arata. Ein ungleicher Wettstreit (OBO 239). Freiburg–Göttingen. Vanstiphout, H. L. J. Epics of Sumerian Kings: The Matter of Arata (WAW 20). Atlanta. Wilcke, C. Sumerische Epen. Von Jens, W. (Hrsg.). Kindlers Neues Literatur Lexikon. Bd. 19. München. Pp. 575– 580.

Ištar, “Goddess of War, Pacifier of Kings”: An Analysis of Ištar’s Martial Role in the Maledictory Sections of the Assyrian Royal Inscriptions*

Ilona Zsolnay Brandeis University

Though there are a few works devoted to investigating the visual representations of martial Ištar, such as Gudrun Colbow’s Die kriegerische Ištar,1 not much analysis has been undertaken to better comprehend the manner in which Ištar’s warlike qualities are manifest in texts. This is surprising since Assyriologists have been well aware of her martial characteristics since the early days of the discipline, when the Assyrian royal inscriptions were first deciphered. Given that Ištar is deemed by scholars to be the “deity of love and war,” it is worth noting that most academic works deal explicitly with her “love” aspect. Why so little scholarly attention has been focused on her role in warfare is unclear. Perhaps it is because sex is more enticing than war, or perhaps we still, even in this modern age, are uncomfortable with examining how a female figure participates in, and, in fact, may even orchestrate, the theater of war. Though we accept the martial aspect of this goddess because she is repeatedly described as militaristic, our analyses remain cursory; we rarely delve into the ramifications and implementations of this characteristic. This presentation seeks, at least in small part, to remedy this oversight and will co-mingle the themes of two previous RAIs: “Krieg und Frieden im alten Vorderasien,” the theme of last year’s Rencontre in Münster and “Sex and Gender in the Ancient Near East,” the theme of the 47th RAI in Helsinki. The scope of this paper is limited to the martial curses which are found in the concluding formula of the royal inscriptions of the Middle * This article presents material developed as part of my Brandeis University doctoral dissertation, written under the supervision of Professor Tzvi Abusch. I would like to express my gratitude to Professor Abusch for his invaluable guidance and suggestions. I would also like to thank Joan Westenholz for graciously agreeing to review the article. 1 Colbow, G. Die kriegerische Ištar. München, 1991; see also Barrelet, M. Les déesses armées et ailées. Syria 32 (1955):222–260.

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Assyrian kings Adad-nārāri I, Šalmaneser I, and Tukultī-Ninurta I. Maledictions are employed to threaten a future ruler who does not perform various prescribed tasks or, conversely, who commits acts which have been proscribed. Generally the curses found in the royal inscriptions are designed to affect sovereignty, fertility (human or agricultural), or the physical well being of the king (and/or his family).2 I am using the term “martial curse” to refer to those maledictions whose results are meant to affect the military activities of the king. In this type of curse Ištar is the deity overwhelmingly invoked, not Aššur, not Adad, not Anu. In these particular maledictions, we might expect to find Ištar reveling in warfare, violently punishing the non-compliant future king, or even empowering the enemy against him, but the curses which involve Ištar are far less obvious. While Adad may be forthrightly asked to bring famine to the land, to rain down lightning, or to overwhelm with a terrible flood, Ištar is vaguely requested to “establish a defeat of his land.”3 At first, one might assume it is because she, herself, is fighting on the battlefield, but the inscriptions do not explicitly state this, and they give no indication that this is the action which takes place. When examined as a group, it becomes evident that in these particular maledictions Ištar is not called upon to wield a weapon against the non-compliant future ruler; rather, she is implored to cause his inability to wield such a weapon. These curses are intended to affect the performance of the king on the battlefield by removing any possibility that the king may be able to defend himself, to act heroically, and to achieve victory on the battlefield. They are, in fact, meant to

2

Most discussions pertaining to maledictions stem from Biblical scholarship, e. g., Crawford, T. Blessing and Curse in Syro-Palestinian Inscriptions of the Iron Age. New York, 1992; Hillers, D. Treaty-Curses and the Old Testament Prophets. Rome, 1964; and the unpublished dissertation of S. Gevirtz. Curse Motifs in the Old Testament and in the Ancient Near East. University of Chicago, 1959. 3 E. g., RIMA I A.76.2:55–62: 55 dIŠKUR i-na ri-¶i-i / le-mu-ti li-ir-¶i-is-su a-bu-bu 56 im-¶u-ul-lu sa¶-maš-tu te-šu-ú a-šàm-šu-tu su-qu 57bu-bu-tu a-ru-ur-tu ¶u-šá-hu i-na ma-ti-šu 58lu ka-ia-an KUR-sú a-bu-bi-iš lu-uš-ba-i 59a-na ti-li ù kar-me lu-te-er diš8-tár beel-ti 60a-bi-ik-ti KUR-šu li-iš-ku-un i-na pa-ni na-ak-ri-šu 61ia iz-zi-iz dIŠKUR i-na be-ri-iq le-mu-ti KUR-su 62li-ib-ri-iq a-na KUR-šu ¶u-šá-ha li-di ‘May the god Adad overwhelm him with a terrible flood. May deluge, hurricane, insurrection, confusion, storm, need, famine, hunger, (and) want be established in his land. May (Adad) cause (these things) to pass through his land like a flood and turn (it) into ruin hills. May the goddess Ištar, my mistress, bring about the defeat of his land. May he not stand firm before his enemy. May the god Adad strike his land with terrible lightning (and) afflict his land with want.’

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transform the king into a demasculinized, and therefore feminine and ineffectual, figure. Conceptions of gender4 Since Simone de Beauvoir famously wrote, “On ne naît pas femme: on le devient” (one is not born a woman, one becomes one),5 gender theory has differentiated biological sex from gender, which it defines as a cultural construct. As such, biology is not necessarily the sole factor of gender determination. Briefly, gender is defined as a role which is performed. Different cultures create various paradigms which determine the two (or more) genders. These paradigms are, in part, constructed of rights and responsibilities, and assign roles within society and may be addenda to, or a result of, ascribed roles. Biology, on the other hand, is used to determine the sex of an individual. Generally speaking, this is based on primary and secondary physical attributes. Primary attributes include reproductive organs; secondary attributes would be features such as beards, menstruation, semen production, and breasts. Female and male are biological terms, while masculine and feminine are terms which denote gender. In Mesopotamia, femininity and masculinity were considered me, that is, they were considered two of the divinely ordained organizing principles by which society may be governed.6 As Julia Asher-Greve has shown, 4

The following section also appears in Zsolnay, I. Do Divine Structures of Gender Mirror Mortal Structures of Gender?, in the forthcoming anthology dedicated to the late Tikva Frymer-Kensky tentatively titled, In the Wake of Tikva Frymer-Kensky (eds. R. Beal, S. Holloway, and J. Scurlock). Piscataway, 2010, pp. 103–120. 5 de Beauvoir, S. Le deuxième sexe. Paris, 1949, vol. II, p. 14. For a primer on gender theory see Wharton, A. The Sociology of Gender: an Introduction to Theory and Research. Oxford, 2005; Glover, D.; Kaplan, C. Genders. London, 2000; Fausto-Sterling, A. Sexing the Body: Gender Politics and the Construction of Sexuality. New York, 2000. For a reassessment of this theory see the work of Butler, J. Gender Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity. London, 1990; idem. Bodies That Matter: on the Discursive Limits of “Sex”. New York, 1993. For a discussion as to the relevance and applicability of theories of gender to the study of the ancient Near East see Bahrani, Z. Sex as Symbolic Form: Eroticism and the Body in Mesopotamian Art. Parpola, S.; Whiting, R. (eds.). Sex and Gender in the Ancient Near East. Proceedings of the 47th Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale. Helsinki, July 2–6, 2001. Helsinki, 2002, pp. 53–58. 6 See Farber-Flugge, G. Der Mythos “Inanna und Enki” unter besonderer Berücksichtigung der Liste der me. Rome, 1973, Tafel II vi 20: ¶i-li nam-munus-e-ne ‘Reiz, wie er Frauen zuseht, (hast du mitgebracht)’; for a discussion of ¶i-li see Hruška, B. Das spätbabylonische Lehrgedicht ‘Inannas Erhöhung’. ArOr 37 (1969):496– 497, nn. 13–14.

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there were strict methods for assigning roles and maintaining gender structures in Mesopotamia.7 After the age of three, when children were no longer breast feeding, they were inscribed with a gender. Citing an Ur III birth incantation which reads: If it is a male, he holds in his hand a weapon and an ax, which is his strength of heroship. If it is a female, she holds in her hand a spindle and a decorated comb,8

Asher-Greve highlights that accoutrements given to male children were symbolic of strength and heroism, while those given to female children were symbolic of domestic duties and beauty. She further observes that masculine children were expected to be vocal and active, while feminine children were expected to be silent and obedient. Although there is some evidence that, when older, biological males could take on feminine roles and vice versa,9 children were generally directed by parents and teachers into these gender roles, through segregated and differentiated training

7

Asher-Greve, J. Decisive Sex, Essential Gender. Parpola, S.; Whiting, R. (eds.). Sex and Gender, pp. 11–26. Asher-Greve is the first to note that while biological sex was not considered me, gender was. 8 Ibid. 13. Asher-Greve cites Römer, W. Geburtsbeschwörungen. TUAT II. Gütersloh, 1982, pp. 204–207. See also Stol, M. Birth in Babylonia and the Bible, Its Mediterranean Setting. Groningen, 2000, pp. 60–61; Cunningham, G. ‘Deliver Me from Evil,’ Mesopotamian Incantations 2500–1500 BC. Roma, 1997, pp. 69–75. Stol translates this line: ‘If it is a male, let him take a weapon, an axe, the force of his manliness. If it is a female, let the spindle and the pin be in her hand’; Cunningham offers: ‘If it is a male, may it a weapon (and) axe, its strength of heroism, seize in the hand. If it is a female, may spindle and hair-clasp be in its hand’ (I thank Joan Westenholz for suggesting the inclusion of these two references). 9 See Groneberg, B. Die sumerisch-akkadische Inanna/Ištar: hermaphroditos? WO 17 (1986):25–46; Maul, S. Kurgarrû and assinnu und ihr Stand in der babylonischen Gesellschaft. Haas, V. (ed.). Aussenseiter und Randgruppen: Beträge zu einer Socialgeschichte des alten Orients. Konstanz, 1992, pp. 159–72; Leick, G. Sex and Eroticism in Mesopotamian Literature. London, 1994; Asher-Greve, J. The Essential Body: Mesopotamian Conceptions of the Gendered Body. Gender & History 9 (1997):432–461; Nissinen, M. Homoeroticism in the Biblical World. Minneapolis, 1998; Asher-Greve, J. Decisive Sex, Essential Gender. Sex and Gender, pp. 11–26; McCaffrey, K. Reconsidering Gender Ambiguity in Mesopotamia: Is a Beard Just a Beard? Sex and Gender, pp. 379–391; Gabbay, U. The Akkadian Word for ‘Third Gender’: The kalû (gala) Once Again. Biggs, R.; Myers, J.; Roth, M. (eds.). Proceedings of the 51st Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale. Chicago, July 18–22, 2005. Chicago, 2008, pp. 49–56.

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and through the recitation of proverbial sayings.10 While acquiescence was the significant characteristic of femininity, the fundamental aspects of masculinity were strength, power, and action. The šà.zi.ga texts, which are devoted to the restoration of a man’s lost potency, bolster this correlation. In Mesopotamia, one of the ways in which a man demonstrated his masculinity (i. e., his potency) was by an erection. The šà.zi.ga texts, which consist of a variety of incantations the goal of which is to alleviate erectile dysfunction or impotence, 11 confirm the perceived dependence of strength on masculinity. In these texts, the man complaining of lost potency is considered weak, his muscles slack and limp, even being referred to as kīma sinništi (GIM SAL) ‘like a woman.’12 Because analogies equating performance in the bedroom with performance on the battlefield are also made, it may be inferred that, without potency, not only sexual intercourse, but also martial action could not be performed. Frequently in these texts, the penis is equated with a bow or other type of weapon and to be able to wield it was paramount.13 Without potency, an erection could not be maintained; a bow could not be pulled taught. Heroism was a direct result of masculinity, for if a warrior lacked potency, he could not wield his weapon. If he could not wield his weapon, he could not act heroically. The importance of martial prowess is perhaps nowhere more evident than in the royal inscriptions of the heroic kings, the Middle Assyrian kings. For these rulers, it was their physical superiority and their abilities on the battlefield which were most important for maintaining their right to kingship. In the inscriptions we are told that the king is designed by the gods, his whole body made excellent, for he is: the one whose conduct is abundantly pleasing to Aššur, valiant hero, capable in battles, crusher of enemies, the one who makes resound the noise of battle with his enemies, whose aggressive battle

10

Asher-Greve. Decisive Sex, Essential Gender. Sex and Gender, p. 13. Biggs, R. The Babylonian Sexual Potency Texts. Sex and Gender, pp. 71–78. 12 STT 280:22–25, treated in Biggs, R. šà.zi.ga. Ancient Mesopotamian Potency Incantations. Locust Valley, 1967, pp. 3, 66–69. 13 For discussions addressing the equation of weapons and masculinity see Hoffner, H. Symbols for Masculinity and Femininity. JBL 85 (1966):326–334; more recently, Kamionkowski, S. Gender Reversal and Cosmic Chaos: A Study on the Book of Ezekiel. London, 2003, pp. 79–85; Biggs, R. The Babylonian Sexual Potency Texts; Chapman, C. The Gendered Language of Warfare in the Israelite-Assyrian Encounter. Winona Lake, 2004, pp. 20–59. 11

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During the Middle Assyrian period, the purpose of the king was to continually engage in warfare and to fight for the gods; they give him warfare, a crown, and a weapon.15 As is well known from the inscriptions of these kings, the necessity for successful military actions and heroic behaviors was all-consuming. Above all, they proudly declare that they face their enemies with strength and fearlessness. If a king were to lose his masculinity he would lose his ability to be heroic, the very validation of his kingship; thus, the threat of its removal was a powerful one. Maledictions The martial curses which may appear in the inscriptions of Adad-nārāri I, Šalmaneser I, and Tukultī-Ninurta I are: (1)16 ‘may she establish a defeat of his land,’ (2) ‘may he not stand before his enemy,’ (3) ‘may she transform his masculinity in the same manner as a sinnisānu,’17 (4) ‘may 14

RIMA I A.0.77.1:8–16: 8šá al-ka-ka-9tu-šu šu-tu-ra el aš-šur ¢a-a-ba 10ur-šá-nu qar-du le-ú tu-qu-ma-ti 11qa-am za-a-a-ri mu-ul-ta-aš-gi-mu 12qa-bal ge-ri-šu šá ki-ma nab-li 13it-ta-na-aš-ra-ru e-re-e¶ 14ta-¶a-sú ù ki-ma giš-pár mu-ti 15la pa-de-e te-bu-ú GIŠ.TUKUL.MEŠ-šú 16NUN ki-nu. 15 The battlefield continued to be the stage for the performance of masculinity in the Neo-Assyrian period (see Chapman. The Gendered Language of Warfare, pp. 20–28). 16 For the ease of comprehension, I am assigning a number to each curse. These numbers are somewhat arbitrary in that they should not be read as indicators for any sequential appearance in the inscriptions. 17 Although there is a general consensus as to the connotation of this line, there is no agreement on its translation. RIMA I (p. 240) and CAD S 286 translate the line ‘may she change him from a man to a woman,’ while Weidner, E. Die Inschriften Tukultī-Ninurtas I und seiner Nachfolger. Graz, 1959, p. 8, renders ‘möge seine Mannheit einem Eunuchen gleich werden lassen.’ The issue of concern is two-fold: a. the interpretation of sinnisāniš (should we understand the term to mean a kind of woman or a synonym for assinnu) and b. how to understand the relationship between the verb ewû ‘to change’ and the suffixed form of sinnisānu (does the line inform us what the king becomes or the manner in which he changes?). Each of these questions will be taken up in turn. a. Grammatically, due to the particularizing suffix -ānu, sinnišānu should be read as a specific category of women (sinništu); however, the lexical series HAR.gud (B vi 133) equates sinnišānu with the cultic functionaries of Ištar, the assinnu ([lú].UR.SAL = [a]s-sin-nu = sin-niš-[a]-[nu]), who are generally considered to have been biological males (though of questionable gender, see n. 10). Here, sinnišānu should not be understood as referring to a biological female (contrary to Lambert, W. Hymn to the

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she cause his potency to pour-out,’ (5) ‘may she place him into the hand of his enemies,’ (6) ‘may she break his weapon.’ The subject of each of Queen of Nippur. Van Driel, G. (ed.). Zikir Sumin. Leiden, 1982, p. 69 iii 70). In each of the Akkadian cultic references, which proclaim that Ištar is capable of changing men into women and vice versa, the general term for woman (sinništu) is used: zika-ra-am a-na si-ni!-ni7-iš-tim si-ni!-iš7 a-na zi-ka!-ri-im tu-ur-ru-um (bilingual: Sjöberg, Å. in-nin šà-gur4-ra: A Hymn to the Goddess Inanna by the en-Priestess Enheduanna. ZA 65 (1976):190, l. 120); zik-ru-su-nu ú-te-ru ana sinništi ([SAL]-ti) (Cagni, L. L’epopea di Erra. Rome, 1970, p. 26 iv 56); [mu-te]r-ret zik-ri ana sin-niš u sin-niš-tú ana zik-r[i] (Lambert, W. Hymn to the Queen of Nippur 198, l. 70). It is only in the “black magic” sections of northern Assyrian royal inscriptions (Sjöberg, Å. in-nin šà-gur4-ra, p. 226, n. 17) that the term sinnisānu (bi-form sinnišānu) is used, e. g. Borger, R. Die Inschriften Asarhaddons. Graz, 1956, 99rev.:56 and Bauer Aššurbanīpal (Bauer, T. Das Inschriftenwerk Assurbanipals. Leipzig, 1933, 2 45, No. 3b). That is to say, the examples are not necessarily interchangeable and may not bolster each other. (On the possibility that the southern texts depict a gender-changing festival dedicated to Ištar see the multiple works of B. Groneberg, e. g., Lob der Ištar: Gebet und Ritual an die altbabylonische Venus Gottin (Groningen, 1997) and eadem. Namûtu ša Ištar: “Das Transvestiesschauspiel der Ištar”. NABU 1997/68; Leick, G. Sex and Eroticism in Mesopotamian Literature. New York, 1994, pp. 159–161, 225–226; Böck, B. Überlegungen zu einem Kultfest der altmesopotamischen Göttin Inanna. Numen 51 (2004):20–46.) Further evidence, which supports an understanding of sinnisānu as merely a synonym for assinnu, is Wiseman, D. The Alalakh Tablets. London, 1953, p. 1:20 (to be discussed below). b. In earlier forms of Akkadian, the suffix -iš can act as a terminative-adverb (acting similar to the preposition ana), while in later Akkadian, the suffix acquires an adverbial quality similar to the more common kīma, thus indicating manner or correspondence (see Ugnad, A. Akkadian Grammar (revised by L. Matouš), transl. H. Hoffner. Atlanta, 1992, § 45; Mayer, W. Zum Terminativ-Adverbialis im Akkadischen: Die Modaladverbien auf -iš. Or 64 (1995):161–186; Huehnergard, J. A Grammar of Akkadian. 2nd ed. Winona Lake, 2005, § 28.2). This is particularly the case when the suffix -iš is found on a noun used in connection with of the verb ewû ‘to change’ (CAD E 413). Since the inscriptions of Tukultī-Ninurta demonstrate dialectical variety either use is possible. I have chosen to translate (similar to Weidner) ‘may she transform his masculinity in the same manner as a sinnisānu.’ This alleviates the clumsy syntax resulting from the appearance of the abstract noun zikrūti (as opposed to the common Akkadian term for a biological male, zikaru). Unlike Weidner I am not wholly convinced that the sinnišānu (assinnu) was a eunuch, for there is no firm evidence which confirms that the assinnu were castrated (CAD A2 341). After the completion of this article, Joan Westenholz alerted me to a third option. In his discussion of the terminative-adverb -iš, Werner Mayer argues sinnišāniš < *ana sinniššūti; thus, he translates ‘zur Weiblichkeit’ (Zum Terminativ-Adverbialis, p. 172). This solution both alleviates the clumsy syntax and demonstrates a change in gender, not sex.

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these curses is Ištar18 and in all of them, she implored as a goddess of reversals with the ability to render a king powerless. Though there are a total of six martial curses,19 only two are common to all three Middle Assyrian kings (1 and 2), while the remaining four are particular to the inscriptions of Tukultī-Ninurta I (3, 4, 5, and 6). Because of this distribution, the two maledictions which appear in various inscriptions of all three rulers will be addressed first. This will then be followed by a discussion of the final four. In the first curse to be considered (1), Ištar is implored to establish (liškun) a defeat (abikti) of the land of a non-compliant future ruler. Normally, when used in the Assyrian royal inscriptions, it is the king who uses this idiomatic phrase (abikti iškun) when proudly declaring he has crushed the enemy.20 In this curse, the outcome is reversed. It is the future king, not the enemy, who will be the object of the defeat. The non-compliant future king is the one who will have done to him, that which he would normally do to others. In the second curse, ‘may he not stand before his enemy,’21 we again find a reversal. Typically, it is the mighty king who either instills great fear into his enemy, forcing him to cower in terror, or who, through use of force, overwhelms his enemy.22 So overpowered, the enemy is reported to be unable to stand, prostrating himself before the victorious Assyrian king.23 In

18

There is one exception: RIMA I A.0.78.23:140–143. Here, Aššur, Enlil, and Šamaš are entreated instead of Ištar. This replacement is demonstrative of the significant theological changes which took place during the end of Tukultī-Ninurta’s reign. 19 There is a further martial curse in the concluding formula of the standard inscription of Tukutltī-Ninurta; however, due to a lacuna, the text is unclear. All that remains is: […] 20li-nir qu-ra-di-šú 21lu-ub(p)-b(p)u (Weidner, E. Die Inschriften Tukultī-Ninurtas, p. 8). Though Weidner translates ll. 19–21 ‘möge sie töten, seine Krieger 21möge sie…’ one would expect the object before not after linēr. Weidner himself provides no discussion of the line and no similar texts are yet evident which might offer a comparison. 20 See RIMA I A.0.74.1001:10; A.0.77.1 ii 71–72; A.0.78.5:42. 21 Generally found as a set, occasionally the second curse, ‘may he not stand before his enemy,’ is absent. 22 See RIMA I A.0.76:1, 7, 8, 10, 19, 20, 21:16–17; A.0.77.1:21–22; A.0.77.17: 1–5; A.78.1 iv 22–23. 23 This motif is, of course, a quite common image of Mesopotamian victory stele from at least the time of Narām-Sîn on. See the unpublished dissertation of Cifarelli, M. Enmity, Alienation and Assimilation: The Role of Cultural Difference in the Expansion of Assyrian Ideology. Harvard University, 1994. I am also grateful to J. Assante for allowing me to preview her forthcoming article, “Men Looking at

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this curse, it is the king who will be overwhelmed and not be able to stand. In both maledictions, Ištar is implored to alter the correct and normal course of royal military action; she is requested to render a king unable to combat his foe. Unfortunately, these curses do not provide any indication as to how these reversals were enacted. Fortunately, the answers may be deduced from the royal inscriptions of Tukultī-Ninurta. Because the concluding formula of the standard inscription of Tukultī-Ninurta24 contains five of the six possible curses which may appear in the inscriptions (1, 2, 3, 4, and 5), and in order to facilitate the discussion, this section (i. e., the concluding formula) will be treated here in full. Following an invocation of Ištar which identifies her as both the ‘Sovereign of War’ (bēlet qabli u tā¶āzi) and the designator of Tukultī-Ninurta’s kingship (nābât palêya) are three maledictory couplets: A.

lušūmi zikrūssu sinnisāniš mutūssu ana ri¶ûti liškun ‘May she transform his masculinity in the same manner as a sinnisānu. May she cause his potency to pour-out.’

B.

[abikti] [mātīšu] liškunšu ina pā[ni nakirīšu] ayy-izziz ‘May she establish [a defeat of his land]. May he not stand be[fore his enemy].’

C.

[…] linēr qurādīšu lu-ub-bu ana qāt (ŠU) nākrīšu (KÚR.MEŠ-šu) lumellīšu ‘May she slay x x x … his warriors … May she place him into the hand of his enemies.’

In each curse contained in the initial pair of maledictions (A) Ištar is requested to change the gender of the king; thus, as with the first set of curses analyzed above (1 and 2), the goddess is once again entreated to reverse expected states. The opening curse contains the goal, to transform (lušūmi) the noncompliant king’s masculinity (zikrūssu) in the same manner as a sinnisānu. The abstract term zikrūtu, which is derived from zikāru ‘male,’ has the meaning ‘masculinity’ or ‘heroism.’ As has been discussed, masculinity is the quintessential quality necessary for a king to demonstrate. With this curse, the masculinity of the king will no longer be at the expected level; it will be modified, consequently rendering him impotent. We are told the manner by which Ištar will cause this change Men: The Homoerotics of Power—Kings, Eunuchs and ‘Others’—in the State Arts of Assyria.” 24 RIMA I A.0.78.1 vi 9–22.

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in the subsequent malediction. In this curse, Ištar is implored to cause (liškun) the non-compliant king’s potency (mutūssu) to pour-out (ana ri¶ûti). Here, the verb šakānu is once again being used to indicate a negative, reversing condition. Though a somewhat rare word, the lexical list Malku equates mutūtu with metlūtu ‘prowess’ or ‘excellence.’25 The noun ri¶ûtu, which has the meaning semen or sperm, derives from re¶û ‘to pour,’26 thus we may read ana ri¶ûti liškun idiomatically, ‘to cause to pourout.’ Generally, the verb re¶û and its derivatives are employed in contexts which suggest procreation or intercourse; here its meaning is used ironically. The king’s potency, which should normally be employed to its fullest height, is depleted; he is made weak. Again, the king is rendered powerless in the midst of the enemy.27 The second pair of maledictions located in the standard inscription of Tukultī-Ninurta (B) is comprised of two curses previously discussed: (1) ‘may she establish a defeat of his land,’ followed by, (2) ‘may he not stand before his enemy.’ As already observed, in these curses Ištar is implored to reverse the normal Assyrian military outcome. She is entreated to bring about the defeat of the king by causing his inability to face his opponent. This may be accomplished through the implementation of the first set of curses (A). Because the masculinity of the king will be discharged, he will be rendered weak and unable to act. As an impotent and feminized figure, he will not be able to gird his loins. It is in the closing malediction (5) found in the final set (C) of the concluding formula of Tukultī-Ninurta’s standard inscription that this demasculinization is 25

CAD M2 45. CAD R 343ff. 27 Neither of these maledictions (3 and 4) is concerned with the dynastic line of the king; they are not meant to threaten his lineage. Curses which threaten dynasty are not concerned with gender or physical power. They are phrased differently, using agricultural or destructive terminology, e. g., RIMA I A.0.39.1:114–117: Šamaš Enlil Adad u Šarru-mātim pere’šu lilqutū and RIMA I A.0.77.1:166: šumšu (MU-šú) zērašu (NUMUN-šú) ina māti (KUR) lu¶alliqū. Though Ištar can be the subject of such curses in texts whose province is outside of Aššur, in Assyrian royal inscriptions she is rarely called upon to perform such actions. Furthermore, though a king’s gender may be permanently altered through the eradication of his potency, in the Tukultī-Ninurta curse no act of castration/cutting is mentioned, and it may not be assumed (it was Na’aman, N. The Ištar Temple at Alalakh. JNES 39 (1980):209–214, who posited the existence of a cult of a “castrating” Ištar). Like other transformations, a change of gender did not have to be physical (I refer here to Enkidu’s transformation after engaging in sexual activity with Šam¶at). 26

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completed. In the last curse, (5) ‘may she place him into the hand of his enemies,’ Ištar is entreated to offer the king up to his foes. In his pacified state, his fate no longer in his own hands, the king is placed literally into the hand (ana qāt) of his enemies (nakrīšu).28 The final malediction to be discussed, (6) ‘may she break his weapon,’ appears in the concluding formula of four dedicatory inscriptions of Tukultī-Ninurta. Each of the inscriptions records renovations done to the Ištar temple at Aššur.29 In two of the inscriptions the curse appears together with the maledictions (4) ‘may she cause his potency to pourout’30 and (5) ‘may she place him into the hand of his enemies,’ while in another two it appears only with the latter curse (5).31 Generally, in Sumerian or Babylonian texts, it is Enlil, Ninurta, or the war god Zababa, who is implored in maledictory sections to break weapons; however, in the Old Babylonian inscriptions of Šamšī-Adad,32 Hammurabi,33 and Yarīm-Līm (a ruler of Alalakh),34 it is Ištar who is entreated to perform this action. In the inscription of Šamšī-Adad, Ištar is simply requested to break (lišbir) the weapons (kakkī) of the king and his army. There is, unfortunately, too little context from which to draw further conclusions as to the deeper significance of the malediction. The epilogue of the Code of Hammurabi reads, ‘may [Ištar] turn his good fortunes to bad, may she break (lišbir) his weapon (kakkašu) on the field of battle and strife!’ Although, in this instance, the curse, too, does not 28 Only once, in the maledictory section of an inscription of Šamšī-Adad I (RIMA I A.0.39.2), do we find a similar curse in the corpus of Assyrian royal inscriptions prior to Tukultī-Ninurta I. In this instance, it is Šamaš who is the subject: ‘May Šamaš, the great judge of heaven and the netherworld, place him (the non-compliant future ruler) into the hands of a king who is his enemy (ana qāt šarri bēl limuttīšu limallīšu) as one who gives up a murderer.’ Here, ana qāt limallīšu lit. ‘to fill the hands,’ is used metaphorically. Šamaš is invoked as the great judge. The context for the curse is judicial; there is no further sub-text. Furthermore, because the setting of the curse is legal it does not equate with our curse, whose province is the battlefield. 29 RIMA I A.0.78.11, 13, 14, 16. Two of these inscriptions are dedicated to the restoration of the Ištar temple at Aššur (11 and 13) and two are inscriptions which dedicate the erection/modification of the chapel to Dinitu, a manifestation of Ištar at Aššur (14 and 16). 30 RIMA I A.0.78.13 and 16. 31 RIMA I A.0.78.11 and 14. 32 RIMA I A.0.39.1:127–131. 33 CH LXXXVII. 34 RIME IV E4.34.1.1:16–20.

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immediately seem to reference Ištar’s ability to change a person’s gender, it does show her penchant for reversals. The context of the Yarīm-Līm malediction, on the other hand, does suggest this type of transformation; furthermore, it bears a striking resemblance to the concluding formula found in the Tukultī-Ninurta inscriptions located in the Ištar temple. In the concluding formula of the inscription of Yarīm-Lim we read: Adad ina kakki ša qātīšu li¶bussu dÚepet dEštar šukurrašu lišbir dEštar ana qāti mukaššidīšu limallīšu dEštar assinnam parā’am ina birkīšu litebbi ‘May Adad smash him with the weapon which is in his hand; may Hepat and Eštar break his spear; may Eštar place him into the hand of his pursuers; may Eštar, (as with) an assinnu, cause potency to flow out from his loins.’35

As in the Šamšī-Adad and Tukultī-Ninurta inscriptions, the verb šebēru is used to designate the action (‘to break’ or ‘to smash’36). Unlike the ŠamšīAdad and Tukultī-Ninurta inscriptions, the object of the verb is a šukurru ‘spear or lance,’37 a more specific, and decidedly more suggestive, weapon than the all-purpose kakku. The Assyrian royal inscriptions record the re35

As with RIMA I A.0.78.1 vi 12–13, there is no consensus on the translation or even on the transcription of lines 19–20. Wiseman transliterates: 19 dIštar SAG.UR.SAG PA.RA ú-ra-am 20i-na bi-ir-ki-šu li-te-ib-bi and translates ‘(19) may IŠTAR who makes eunarchs [sic] … (20) bind (?) (him) in his privates’ (Wiseman, D. The Alalakh Tablets. London, 1953, p. 25). Both Na’aman (The Ištar Temple at Alalakh, p. 210) and G. Giacumakis (The Akkadian of Alalakh. Brandeis University diss., 1963), follow E. Speiser’s transcription and translation in The Alalakh Tablets. JAOS 74 (1954):23. Reading the sign No. 376 of Borger’s ABC as ¢e4, Speiser translates ‘Ishtar shall impress (li¢ebbi) feminine parts into his male parts.’ D. Wiseman and RIME IV (E4.34.1.1) read No. 376 as te, thus suggesting not ¢ebû ‘to impress’ or ‘to sink’ but tebû ‘to rise’ or ‘to get up.’ There is even greater confusion regarding SAG.UR.SAG para-ú-ra-am. Though SAG.UR.SAG = assinnu (CAD A 341), the meaning of pa-ra-ú-raam is unclear. AHw. 833 translates ‘ein Homosexueller,’ equating it with parrû I ‘Buhlknabe’ (pi-il-pi-il/li = pa(-a[r])-ru-u CT 18, 35 iv 38 (Ant.), p. 834), while CAD splits the writing into two words and translates ‘may Ištar apply to (remove from?) his loins … in the future’ (CAD P 192). Although it is inviting to translate pa-ra-ú-raam as another cultic figure of Ištar with questionable gender (< parā’u ‘to cut through, to sever, split’ (CAD P 181)), this leaves no direct object. Speiser’s solution is no better. He also divides pa-ra-ú-ra-am, reading PA.RAM = as ‘male genitalia’ (though parû = ‘mule [!]’) and ūru as ‘female genitalia.’ The idea of impressing or sinking genitalia is difficult to conceive of, let alone substantiate. Better is to allow that the Akkadian of Alalakh is fraught with inaccuracies and accept that pa-ra-ú-raam must have a meaning similar to mutūtu, as RIME IV has done (E4.34.1.1). 36 CAD Š2 246–250. 37 CAD Š3 233–235.

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ceiving of weapons which are bestowed to the king personally by the gods,38 thus weapons indicate a direct connection to the gods. The request for Ištar to break a king’s weapon is tantamount to breaking this connection; further, it indicates the removal of their faith (i. e., that of the gods) in his ability to perform his martial (and possibly sacred) duties. Finally, there is a third meaning to this curse. If we recall the Ur III birth incantations and the šà.zi.ga texts, a weapon was considered a symbol of masculinity. Therefore, in this malediction, Ištar is requested to not only break the king’s connection to the gods and their trust in him, but also to shatter his very manhood. This reading is confirmed by the third curse, ‘may Eštar, (as with) an assinnu, cause potency to flow out from of his loins.’ The objective of this last malediction mirrors the language of two of curses located in the Tukultī-Ninurta inscriptions: (3) ‘may she transform his masculinity in the same manner as a sinnisānu’ and (4) ‘may she cause his potency to pour-out.’ While in the Tukultī-Ninurta inscription we find re¶û, here we have the verb tebû. Like re¶û, the verb tebû ‘to get up, rise,’ is generally used in a positive way, to indicate masculine potency. Here, as in the case of the Tukultī-Ninurta curses, it is used ironically, as is the noun birku, a euphemism for male or female genitalia. In the šà.zi.ga texts, when used in combination birku and tebû frequently signify erection, one of the indicators of masculinity. In both the Tukultī-Ninurta and Yarim-Lim maledictions this typical meaning is upturned; Ištar causes the king’s potency to not flow up (as it were) but to flow out. Conclusion That, after analysis, Ištar is found to be connected with masculinity and heroism is not unexpected, for in Sumerian tradition, it is either from Enki that she receives the m e of heroism or it is Enlil who places her in charge of battle and warfare. She is also praised as the heroic one in multiple Sumerian hymns. In the Akkadian Agušaya poem, Ištar is not only called the warrior of the gods, but her martial actions are called her zikru,39 or her e¢lūti,40 her “manliness”; thus, she is a feminine figure who performs a masculine role in military contexts. Finally, the Assyrian royal inscriptions themselves continue this tradition, pronouncing Ištar, “the

38

See RIMA I A.0.76.3:21ff.; A.0.76.1001:10′ff. Agušaya ii 3 (Groneberg, B. Lob der Ištar, p. 75). 40 Ištar-Louvre i 8 (ibid., p. 23).

39

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one who controls the rites of heroism”41 and it is Ištar of whom it is frequently said: “to grant potency is hers, to remove potency is hers.”42 As a deity shown in this study to be in control of the masculinity of kings, Ištar plays a pivotal role in their performance on the battlefield.43 With the ability to render a king passive and ineffectual, she, in effect, controlled the very outcome of conflict.

41

See RIMA II A.0.99.2; A.0.100.1; A.0.101.17; A.0.101.20; A.0.102.14. Biggs, R. šà.zi.ga, p. 46. Also of note is that, in these texts, problems with potency can be attributed to the anger of Ištar (and Marduk); however, it must also be observed that, on the whole, they refer to a snatching away of potency (ekēmu, ¶alāqu, ´abātu) by a witch or other maleficent being. 43 One may also wish to consult the Ištar of Nineveh curses and the Hittite military oaths (Hoffner, H. Symbols for Masculinity and Femininity, pp. 331–332); though it is unclear what the goal of these curses may be. The removal of masculinity may, in these instances, be an effort to cause humiliation or shame to men by causing them to be woman; as if, to be a woman was, in and of itself, disgraceful. 42

Sumerian and Akkadian Lexicon and Terminology

Les véhicules terrestres dans les textes de Mari. I. Le nūbalum* Ilya Arkhipov CNRS—Académie des Sciences de Russie

Les archives paléobabyloniennes de Mari contiennent des données riches et prometteuses relevant de la culture matérielle et jettent souvent une vive lumière sur des termes et des réalités inconnues ou rares dans d’autres corpus cunéiformes. Le projet Matériaux pour le Dictionnaire Babylonien de Paris (MDBP) sous la direction de J.-M. Durand est destiné à éditer des textes administratifs concernant plusieurs domaines de l’artisanat et de la gestion de biens à Mari. Un volume sur la vaisselle de luxe a déjà été publié par M. Guichard (MDBP 2 = ARMT 31, 2005), un autre, consacré aux tissus et aux vêtements (MDBP 1 = ARMT 30), vient de paraître. Les textes relatifs aux métaux seront rassemblés dans le troisième volume à la préparation duquel je participe actuellement. Un des lots les plus intéressants dans ce corpus concerne les moyens de transport terrestres (dont beaucoup d’éléments constitutifs étaient fabriqués en métal). Le vocabulaire des véhicules sera étudié en détail dans MDBP 3. Pourtant, il est évident que l’intérêt de ce sujet ne se limite pas à son aspect lexicographique. A cet égard, je voudrais présenter une série d’articles sur les moyens de transport à Mari, en mettant l’accent sur les questions économiques et idéologiques de leur utilisation. Cela permettra aussi de publier quelques documents épistolaires qui sont importants pour le sujet mais ne peuvent pas être édités dans le corpus de textes administratifs. Le plus remarquable parmi les véhicules à Mari est certainement le nūbalum. C’est G. Dossin qui a introduit ce terme dans l’usage au début des années 1950, en le considérant comme l’équivalent mariote de la graphie GIŠ.GIGIR, le sumérogramme le plus fréquent pour le mot ‘char’.1 * Je tiens à remercier avant tout J.-M. Durand qui m’a confié l’édition d’un lot considérable de textes de Mari, y compris deux lettres publiées ci-dessous, et qui m’a fait part de plusieurs idées sur lesquelles se fonde en grande partie cet article. Je suis de même reconnaissant à L. Barberon et A. Jacquet qui ont non seulement corrigé mon français, mais m’ont aussi fait quelques suggestions importantes sur le fond. 1 ARMT 5 (1952), p. 137.

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L’hypothèse a été reprise par les autres éditeurs des textes de Mari,2 ainsi que par AHw. 799 et CAD N2 306. Par la suite, le nūbalum a été oublié pour quelques décennies, jusqu’à ce que J.-M. Durand propose, dans une note de bas de page, que ce mot puisse désigner une sorte de chaise à porteurs de très grand luxe.3 Peu après, B. Groneberg a publié un article synthétique sur le nūbalum, où elle étudia la signification du terme, l’histoire de la fabrication des nūbalum à Mari et les termes désignant les éléments constitutifs de ce véhicule.4 D’ailleurs, B. Groneberg n’a pas été convaincue par l’idée de J.-M. Durand et a continué à considérer que le terme nūbalum désignait un char. Plus tard, B. Groneberg a édité une lettre sur le nūbalum d’une princesse, sans toutefois trancher entre les deux identifications possibles.5 Enfin, J.-M. Durand a confirmé son hypothèse dans les Documents épistolaires de Mari où il a aussi parlé du statut et du symbolisme du nūbalum.6 Entre-temps, tous les éditeurs de textes de Mari ont partagé, à ma connaissance, l’avis de J.-M. Durand.7 En ce qui concerne les autres, M. Van De Mieroop a traduit le terme comme ‘sedan’ dans un texte de Tell-Leilan8, tandis que F. van Koppen a préféré conserver la traduction traditionelle de nūbalum par ‘char’.9 Ainsi, il se trouve qu’aujourd’hui le seul ouvrage synthétique sur le nūbalum et les deux grands dictionnaires traitent ce véhicule comme une sorte de char. En même temps, l’hypothèse alternative de J.-M. Durand, quoique largement acceptée, n’a jamais reçu d’argumentation détaillée. Il me semble donc nécessaire de revenir sur la question. Le but de la présente contribution est d’étudier de manière exhaustive la signification du terme ainsi que le rôle du nūbalum dans la société et l’idéologie mariotes, à propos duquel J.-M. Durand a déjà fait quelques remarques importantes. Cependant, les questions philologiques concernant les élements constitutifs du véhicule ont déjà été examinées en profondeur par B. Groneberg et ne seront reprises que dans MDBP 3. 2

E. g. ARMT 16/1 (1954), p. 200. ARMT 26/1 (1988), p. 123. 4 MARI 6 (1990):161–180. 5 FM 2 (1994):133–137. 6 LAPO 16 (1997), pp. 236–237; LAPO 17 (1998), pp. 486–487. 7 Charpin, D.; Lafont, B. ARMT 26/2 (1998), pp. 177, 483; Guichard, M. NABU 1994/31; Maul, S. FM 2 (1994):50; Kupper, J.-R. MHEO 2 (1994), p. 266, 270; Ziegler, N. FM 4 (1999):52. N. Ziegler fut la première à utiliser l’heureuse traduction ‘palanquin’ qui exprime bien la somptuosité du nūbalum. 8 Or 63 (1994):320. 9 AoF 29 (2002):25. 3

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Le terme nūbalum est presque exclusivement attesté à Mari, à l’exception de quelques autres mentions isolées et en partie contestables.10 Grâce au projet MDBP, nous avons sous les yeux la totalité des textes, connus ou nouveaux, où figure ce mot. Toutes les attestations datées ou datables proviennent de l’époque de Zimri-Lim,11 ce qui ne devrait pas être un hasard. Les documents appartiennent à plusieurs types qui présentent les informations de manière différente. Une bonne soixantaine de textes administratifs traite de dépenses de matières diverses – surtout de l’or et de l’argent, mais aussi de pierres précieuses, du bois, de la colle, de l’huile etc. – pour la fabrication, la décoration ou l’entretien de plusieurs nūbalum et de leurs parties constitutives. Ces documents, ainsi que quelques inventaires mentionnant des nūbalum, permettent de reconstituer la structure matérielle de ces véhicules et l’histoire de leur fabrication, en indiquant parfois leur destination. Les lettres attestant le terme ne sont qu’une quinzaine, mais elles fournissent des informations plus variées et souvent essentielles pour notre sujet. L’identification Dès la première apparition du mot, il était clair qu’il désignait un véhicule.12 Il a été présumé depuis longtemps que nūbalum représentait un nom de char, tandis que J.-M. Durand a proposé de voir dans ce véhicule une sorte de chaise à porteurs ou de palanquin (cf. l’historique du sujet ci-dessus). Il ne reste qu’à trancher entre ces deux possibilités.

10 La grande majorité de ces documents a été cataloguée par B. Groneberg dans MARI 6; la liste complète des attestations du nūbalum à Mari sera donnée dans MDBP 3. Ce mot est toujours écrit syllabiquement, son équivalence avec le sumérogramme GIŠ.GIGIR est à exclure (cf. infra). 11 Malgré l’opinion de B. Groneberg (MARI 6:163, 168), le mot na-ba-lu attesté dans un texte du type šakkanakku (ARMT 19, 460:5, 7) n’a sûrement pas le même sens, car il est qualifié comme une partie de char (šu GIŠ.GIGIR) et pas comme un véhicule en soi. 12 L’étymologie du mot correspond bien à cette interprétation: selon toute vraisemblance, il représente une forme mapras- de la racine sémitique wbl ‘transporter’, avec une dissimilation de m > n et une contraction de au > ū (Durand, J.-M. ARMT 26/1, p. 123; Groneberg, B. MARI 6:161). W. von Soden (AHw. 799) propose la lecture nubālum, mais sans la justifier; la lettre A.2982 (cf. n. 23) donne d’ailleurs une variante nu-bu-la-am, ce qui confirme que la deuxième voyelle du mot était courte.

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Pour G. Dossin, nūbalum était la lecture du sumérogramme GIŠ.GIGIR à Mari.13 L’argument principal consistait dans le fait que la lecture habituelle de ce sumérogramme, narkabtum, ne convenait pas dans les archives de Mari, où, dans tous les contextes clairs, le mot écrit GIŠ.GIGIR était du genre masculin comme le mot nūbalum. Toutefois, on connaît aujourd’hui des textes où nūbalum et GIŠ.GIGIR figurent côte-à-côte et leur identification donnerait un contresens (ARMT 14, 40; A.868). De plus, M. Guichard a découvert que c’était probablement le mot rakabum qui correspondait à Mari au sumérogramme GIŠ.GIGIR.14 Cela n’exclut malgré tout pas que le nūbalum soit un type particulier de char comme le pensent B. Groneberg et F. van Koppen.15 Leur raisonnement repose surtout sur ce passage d’une lettre de Bahdi-Lim, gouverneur de Mari, au roi Zimri-Lim: ‘De même que tu es roi des Hanéens, tu es aussi, en second lieu, roi d’un territoire akkadien. Mon Seigneur ne doit pas monter sur des chevaux. C’est sur un nūbalum et des mules que mon Seigneur doit monter afin d’honorer sa royauté16.’ Pour B. Groneberg et F. van Koppen, la phrase signifie que le véhicule était tiré par des mules; il est pourtant évident qu’il peut aussi bien s’agir de deux façons possibles, consécutives ou alternatives, de se déplacer: ‘C’est sur un nūbalum et (ensuite) sur des mules …’ ou bien ‘C’est sur un nūbalum et (une autre fois) sur des mules …’17 Ainsi, le passage ne peut pas servir d’argument pour l’identification du véhicule, bien que ce texte soit important pour la question du rôle idéologique du nūbalum dont je parlerai ci-dessous. Un autre argument contre l’hypothèse de J.-M. Durand est qu’il n’existe presque pas de documentation iconographique ou archéologique pour le palanquin ou la chaise à porteurs au Proche-Orient ancien, ce qui fait penser que les sources écrites ne devraient pas non plus attester de

13

ARMT 5 (1952), p. 137. NABU 1994/31. 15 MARI 6:164; AoF 29 (2002):25. 16 [ki-ma] LUGAL ÚA.NA.MEŠ at-ta, [ù š]a-ni-iš LUGAL ak-ka-di-im at-ta, [be-lí] i-na ANŠE.KUR.ÚÁ la i-ra-ka-ab, [i-na gi]šnu-ba-lim ù ANŠE.ÚÁ ku-da-ni-ma, [b]e-[lí] li-ir-kaam-ma qa-qa-ad šar-ru-ti-šu, li-ka-bi-it (ARMT 6, 76 = LAPO 17). 17 C’est ainsi que le passage est compris par J.-M. Durand, ainsi que par D. Charpin, et N. Ziegler (WZKM 97 (2007):75–76). D. Charpin avait aussi proposé qu’un palanquin ait pu être porté par des mules (MARI 7 (1993):170); il apparaît cependant que les seuls animaux au monde utilisés dans ce but aient été les éléphants et les chameaux. 14

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tels véhicules.18 Effectivement, nous n’en avons guère d’attestations dans les sources cunéiformes en dehors de Mari, mais cela pourrait s’expliquer par la singularité de ces archives documentant souvent des réalités inconnues ailleurs en Mésopotamie (cf. “L’horizon spatial et temporel”). En revanche, il existe plusieurs témoignages en faveur de l’idée que le nūbalum n’était pas un véhicule à roues. Tout d’abord, le nūbalum n’a pas du tout la même structure matérielle ni les mêmes parties constitutives que les chars: avant que le sujet soit examiné en détail dans MDBP 3, on peut déjà comparer la description de chars faite par J.-M. Durand et celle du nūbalum, par B. Groneberg.19 Le plus remarquable est que, comme B. Groneberg l’a déjà indiqué, aucun des nombreux textes concernant le nūbalum ne mentionne jamais ni de roues ni leurs éléments.20 D’ailleurs, une lettre indique explicitement que le nūbalum était porté (našûm) par des personnes dans le cadre d’un voyage: ‘On a attaqué et tué, entre Arrapha et Kakmum, Yaduranum et les hommes qui étaient avec lui et portaient le nūbalum.’21 B. Groneberg, qui avait connaissance de ce texte, a proposé que le véhicule ait été porté vide,22 ce qui donnerait une scène étrange s’il s’agissait vraiment d’un char. Enfin, il existait au palais de Mari une catégorie de personnel associé à ce véhicule, les ša nūbalim,23 qui constituaient une partie non négligeable des domestiques: le texte ARMT 21, 399 représente une liste de 48 awīlū ša nūbalim au service de Sin-mušallim;24 ARMT 13, 30 mentionne 22 ša nūbalim parmi d’autres serviteurs du palais; TEM III vii 19, – 18 ša nūbalim; M.18147,25 – 11 ša nūbalim. Leur nombre élevé et l’absence de termes analogues pour d’autres véhicules empêche d’y voir des 18

Groneberg, B. MARI 6:164. ARMT 21, pp. 280–289; MARI 6:167–180. 20 MARI 6:163. 21 ia-du-`raa-nam, ù LÚ.MEŠ ša it-ti-šu nu-ba-la-am na-šu-[ú], bi-ri-it ar-ra-ap-¶iki im , [ù ka]-ak-mi-imki iš-¶i-[ ¢ú-šu-nu-ti-ma], [i-du]-ku-šu-nu-ti (ARMT 26, 512:8–12). Le même évènement est mentionné apparemment par une lettre du roi des Qutéens qui sera publiée par M. Guichard (A.2982). 22 MARI 6:163. 23 CAD N1 307 et AHw. 799 mettent le terme ša nūbalim en rapport avec le mot nūbalum venant de la racine ʼbl et signifiant sans doute ‘terrain sec’. En réalité, il n’existe à ma connaissance qu’une seule attestation sûre de ce mot avec un sens topographique (TCL 1, 238:13), et il n’y a aucune raison de le lier à cette catégorie de personnel (cf. Durand, J.-M. ARMT 26/1, p. 123). 24 Sin-mušallim était haut administratif du palais de Mari (ARMT 23, 238 et p. 217), peut-être le responsable des ša nūbalim? 25 FM 4:48. 19

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spécialistes de la fabrication et de l’entretien de chars; il est donc difficile de comprendre le terme (awīlū) ša nūbalim autrement que par ‘porteurs de palanquin’, seul moyen de transport qui nécessite un personnel aussi nombreux.26 L’identification du nūbalum comme un véhicule sans roues et porté par des gens me semble aujourd’hui incontestable. Les textes de Mari permettent de préciser le sens du terme, en donnant d’amples informations sur la fabrication, la structure matérielle, l’utilisation et le statut de ce véhicule. La fabrication Quelques dizaines de textes mentionnant les travaux pour des nūbalum se séparent clairement en cinq lots chronologiques27. Le premier remonte à la période vii/ZL 1 – viii/ZL 2; il n’est pas évident s’il s’agit de la fabrication d’un ou de plusieurs nūbalum. Le destinataire de ce(s) véhicule(s) n’est jamais précisé; ARMT 25, 16028 mentionne un nūbalum ša pa-gi-i, mais la traduction de ce passage par ‘palanquin du singe’, quoique possible, me semble trop étonnante. Le deuxième lot de textes date du milieu de l’année ZL 5 (les mois iv à vii). En ce cas, nous avons la chance de savoir que ce nūbalum était fabriqué pour le dieu Itur-Mer (ARMT 23, 198 de 25/iv/5).29 Le troisième lot se rapporte aux mois iii à ix de ZL 6 et documente un nūbalum dit ‘d’or’ (ARMT 25, 407 de 9/v/ZL 6).30 Inib-šina, la sœur de Zimri-Lim et la grande prêtresse d’Addu, a fait un apport important d’or pour la fabrication du nūbalum en v-bis/ZL 6 (M.12111); on sait qu’elle disposait d’un palanquin (FM 4, 50 de 8/xii/ZL 7) et de ša nūbalim à son service (M.18147 de 27/v/ZL 7).31 Cela fait penser que le nūbalum fabriqué en ZL 6, était destiné à Inib-šina. Enfin, les deux derniers lots de documents, datant de vi–viii/ZL 12 et de iv/ZL 13, ne 26

Cf. Durand, J.-M. LAPO 16, p. 236; Ziegler, N. FM 4:48. Ces lots avaient été déjà distingués grosso modo par B. Groneberg (MARI 6: 165–166); plusieurs textes mentionnés dans sa liste seront (ré)édités dans MDBP 3, souvent avec des datations précisées. 28 La date du texte d’après la collation est 21/v/ZL 2. 29 La lettre FM 2, 17 traitant de travaux pour le palanquin d’Itur-Mer doit dater de la même période. Un autre texte mentionnant le nūbalum de cette divinité est l’inédit M.10410 (MDBP 3). 30 Le démontage d’un ‘grand palanquin d’or’ est documenté par trois lettres, ARMT 13, 18 et 21 et FM 6, 59, datant de la toute fin du règne de Zimri-Lim (cf. Durand, J.-M. LAPO 16:239). Est-ce le même objet? 31 Ziegler, N. FM 4:46–49; les inédits M.12111 et M.18147 sont cités à la p. 48. 27

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permettent pas d’identifier le futur utilisateur des palanquins en cours de fabrication. Parmi eux, le deuxième est qualifié de ‘nūbalum en bois de Magan’ (ARMT 25, 351 et 676). Les documents sur la fabrication des palanquins à Mari, ainsi que quelques autres textes, nous donnent une idée assez claire de la structure et de l’aspect de ce véhicule, même si les problèmes philologiques restent nombreux.32 Un nūbalum comprenait un châssis en bois sur lequel étaient fixés les brancards et les pieds, un habitacle fabriqué partiellement en cuir et meublé éventuellement à l’intérieur d’un lit: les textes distinguent clairement le nūbalum normal et le nūbal eršim, le palanquin à lit (FM 3, 59, etc.). Les palanquins étaient très richement décorés de pierres précieuses, d’ornements, d’inscriptions et de statuettes mais surtout d’or et d’argent. Par exemple, ARMT 25, 129 donne le total des dépenses de métaux précieux pour le nūbalum fabriqué en ZL 6: plus de 14 mines d’or et de 18 mines d’argent. Il faut noter que ce métal provenait en partie des nēmetti nūbalim, ‘tributs de nūbalum’ de hauts fonctionnaires mariotes (ARMT 25, 376 et M.12111).33 Les fonctions et le statut Dans plusieurs cultures, un véhicule porté par des serviteurs représentait un moyen de transport extrêmement prestigieux et chargé d’une forte symbolique du pouvoir. C’était aussi le cas du nūbalum, ce dont témoignent aussi bien sa splendeur matérielle que le rang de ses utilisateurs. Le nūbalum à Mari était le véhicule royal par excellence. Une des premières lettres de l’époque de Zimri-Lim, ARMT 6, 76 (citée ci-dessus, n. 17), dit que le roi doit se faire porter en nūbalum pour rentrer la première fois dans la ville de Mari. Un texte daté de 30/xii/ZL l enregistre une dépense d’huile ‘pour oindre les ša nūbalim lorsque le roi est revenu du district supérieur’ (FM 3, 125:18′): cela signifierait que Zimri-Lim effectua en palanquin un voyage en amont de l’Euphrate. Plus tard, le roi turukkéen Zaziya a parlé d’une façon ironique, devant les rois du Sindjar, de cette manière de se déplacer propre au roi de Mari: ‘Où est Zimri-Lim que vous recherchiez pour être votre père et derrière qui vous

32

Voir avant tout Groneberg, B. MARI 6:167–180 et FM 2:133–137; cf. aussi la lettre FM 2, 17. 33 Le terme nēmettum, dans ce contexte, ne signifie évidemment pas ‘Sitz’ comme l’a interprété B. Groneberg qui cite l’inédit M.12111 (MARI 6:170, 178). “A.2111” mentionné ibid. n’est que le numéro altéré du même texte.

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marchiez lorsqu’il circulait en palanquin?’34 Enfin, un ‘nūbalum du roi’ est mentionné dans le mémorandum ARMT 23, 103, malheureusement non daté. Curieusement, aucun des nombreux documents sur la fabrication de palanquins ne dit qu’ils étaient destinés au roi, bien que ce puisse bien être le cas des nūbalum fabriqués au début et à la fin du règne, dont nous ne connaissons pas les futurs utilisateurs. D’autre part, Zimri-Lim devait avoir un palanquin à sa disposition avant même sa prise du pouvoir, puisqu’il lui a été conseillé de rentrer dans Mari avec ce véhicule. Selon la lettre A.868 (publiée ci-dessous), les rois Bunu-Eštar de Kurda et Šarraya de Razama avaient aussi des palanquins à leur disposition. Hormis les rois, d’autres personnes de sang royal pouvaient utiliser le nūbalum. Le palanquin d’Inib-šina, la sœur du roi, a déjà été mentionné ci-dessus. Dam-Hura´im, l’épouse principale de Yasmah-Addu puis de Zimri-Lim,35 reçut un nouveau palanquin de Qa¢na, sa ville d’origine (A.1292).36 La lettre ARMT 26, 13 traite de la préparation d’une maison pour la seconde épouse de Zimri-Lim, Šiptu, qui arrivait de Halab. Il s’agit en particulier de l’envoi de porteurs de palanquin (ša nūbalim), ce qui indiquerait que Šiptu disposait aussi de ce véhicule. Les hauts fonctionnaires de Mari avaient le droit de se déplacer en nūbalum pendant leurs missions diplomatiques. Nous savons qu’une de ces missions s’est mal finie: l’ambassadeur Yaduranum et les porteurs de son nūbalum furent tués dans le piémont du Zagros (ARMT 26, 512).37 Un autre fonctionnaire qui avait droit à un palanquin était Sammetar,38 bien que cela pût être mal pris par les rois étrangers, comme l’indique la magnifique lettre A.868: a-na be-lí-i[a] 2. qí-bí-m[a] um-ma sa-am-me-e-t[ar] 4. ÌR-ka-a-[m]a aš-šum nu-ba-lim ša be-lí ú-ša-bi-lam 6. [nu-b]a-lum šu-ú ik-šu-dam ù šu-ma-am GAL [be-lí] iš-ku-na-an-ni ù ma-tum ka-lu-ša 8. ì[š-me] ù be-lí i-di LUGAL.MEŠ ša ma-a-tim

34 a-li-ma zi-im-ri-li-im, ša a-na a-bu-ti-ku-nu te-še20-a-šu-ma i-nu-ma šu-ú i-na gišnuba-lim ra-ak-bu, at-tu-nu wa-ar-ki-šu ta-al-la-ka (A.1025:15–17, publié par Kupper, J.-R. MARI 6:337–348). 35 Durand, J.-M. LAPO 18:295–299. 36 FM 2:133–137. 37 Cf. n. 22. Le statut exact et la carrière de Yaduranum sont inconnus. 38 Sur ce personnage, cf. Lion, B. Amurru 2 (2001):188–195.

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š[e-ti] ša a-šar a-al-la-ku [ul-l]a-num 10. Ibu-na-eš4-tá[r] ` a ù šar-ra-ia ša nu-ba-lam [ra]-ak-bu 12. [u]l-li-iš ka-lu-šu-nu GIŠ.GIGIR [SA]G?-ma T. ra-ak-bu ù ‹i›-ba-aš-š[u-ú] 14. ša [GIŠ.GIGIR Ú]S?-ma ra-a[k-b]u `ùa as-sú-ur-r[e] 16. i-n[u-m]a nu-ba-lam ra-ak-ba-ku R. [LUGAL.MEŠ] šu-nu i-im-ma-ru-ma 18. a-wa-tim uš-te-ep-pé-šu um-ma-a-mi ki-ma né-ti-ma ÌR-su 20. nu-ba-lam ú-ša-ar-ki-ba-am-ma i¢-ru-dam a-wa-tim uš-te-ep-pé-šu 22. i-na-an-na šum-ma a-wa-tum i-in be-lí-ia ma-a¶-ra-at iš-tu DUMU.MEŠ ši-ip-ri 24. ka-lu-šu-nu ù ma-tum ka-lu-ša nu-ba-lam ša-a-tu i-mu-ru i-na qa-a¢-¢ú-na-an 26. ú-lu-ma i-na sa-ga-ra-timki nu-ba-lam ša-a-tu lu-ud-di šum-ma la ke-em-ma 28. an-ni-tam la an-ni-tam be-lí li-iš-pu-ra-am ‘ 1–2Dis à mon Seigneur: 3ainsi parle Sammetar, 4ton serviteur. 5 Au sujet du palanquin que mon Seigneur m’a fait porter, 6il m’est arrivé. Hé bien! c’est un grand honneur 7que m’a octroyé mon Seigneur et le pays tout entier 8–9est au courant. Or, mon Seigneur sait que les rois de ce pays où je dois aller, mis à part 10Bunu-Eštar 11et Šarraya qui se déplacent en palanquin, 12–13voyagent sinon tous en char de première qualité et il y en a même 14–15qui le font en char de seconde qualité. Or, il ne faudrait pas, 16lorsque je monte en palanquin, 17 que ces rois, le voyant, 18n’en fassent toute une histoire, disant: 19– 21 «Il nous a envoyé son serviteur en lui permettant de se déplacer en palanquin comme s’il était un de nous». Il vont en faire toute une histoire. 22En fait, s’il plaît à mon Seigneur, 23–24maintenant que tous les messagers et tout le pays 25–27ont vu ce palanquin, il me faut le mettre en dépôt à Qa¢¢unan ou bien à Saggaratum. Sinon, 28que mon Seigneur m’écrive ce qu’il doit en être.’

Les rois de petits royaumes de Haute-Mésopotamie trouvaient donc scandaleux le fait qu’un ambassadeur de Zimri-Lim voyageât en palanquin, tandis que certains d’entre eux ne pouvaient pas se permettre un tel luxe. D’ailleurs, l’utilisation inappropriée du palanquin pouvait être perçue par les Mariotes comme une démonstration de révolte, ce que montre un texte parlant d’un roitelet benjaminite: ‘En fait, lui, le serviteur, Samsi-Addu, qui (soi disant) n’a en rien péché contre mon Sei-

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gneur, il est pourtant monté dans le nūbalum. Alors, en roi des Bords-del’Euphrate, il a entrepris la sédition.’39 La sensibilité des Mariotes au sujet du palanquin se révèle aussi sans doute dans la lettre A.3892, malheureusement acéphale, citée in extenso par J.-M. Durand et B. Groneberg.40 Voici ce texte en entier: (Début manque.) [......................]`xa [..........................] 2′ [x x]-`xa-ša-am ša i-na ter-qa[ki ...........] [x] `xa ia-qí-im-dIM a-na ia-am-¶a-a[dki] 4′ [i¢?-¢]a-ra-ad ù áš-ta-al-{x-x}-ma [i]-na gišnu-ba-al GIŠ.NÁ a-na šu-ur-ku-bi-šu-nu 6′ ú-ul na-¢ú LÚ.TUR.MEŠ na-a¶-rum ba-lum munusmu-še-ni-qa-tu-šu-nu it-ti-šu-nu 8′ i-ra-ak-ka-ba ki-i uk-ta-al-lu ri-ig-ma-am ú-ul i-ša-ak-ka-nu-ú 10′ ù gišnu-ba-lum šum-šu ra-bi aš-šum an-né-tim T. áš-ta-al-ma i-na 1 gišma-a-ia-al-tim 12′ ú-ša-ar-ki-ib-šu-nu-ti-ma mu-še-ni-qa/-tu-šu-nu R. it-ti-šu-nu `raa-ak-ba 1 gišma-a-ia-a[l-tam š]a-a-ti 14′ 4° GU4.HÁ i-ša-ad-da-d[u] te-[r]e-tim ú-še-pi-iš-ma 16′ a-na te-re-tim ša-al-ma-tim 50 ´a-ba-am DUMU.MEŠ ter-qaki `ú?a-[x x]-`ma?a I 18′ ¶a-am-mu-¶a-lum ù `x xa-[x-z]a?-nu [x x] `x xa TU `xa 20′ [..................]`x xa [.........a]n?-ni (Reste manque.) ‘ 1′–2′… à Terqa … 3′–4′… vient d’envoyer Yaqqim-Addu au Yamhad, et j’ai pensé 5′–6′qu’il ne convenait pas de les faire monter dans un nūbalum à lit: les enfants …,a) 7′–8′si leurs nourrices ne montent pas avec eux, comment se tiendront-ils, 9′ne se mettront-ils pas à crier? 10′–12′ Et le prestige du nūbalum est (trop) grand!b) J’ai réfléchi à cela et je les ai fait monter sur une mayyaltum;c) 13′leurs nourrices voyagent avec eux. Cette mayyaltum, 14′ce sont quatre bœufs qui la tirent. 15′ J’ai fait prendre les présages; 16′en fonction de leurs bons résultats, 17′… 50 hommes de Terqa. 18′Hammu-halum et …’ a) Je n’ai pas de solution pour cet endroit; cf. les propositions de J.-M. Durand et B. Groneberg.

39

[i]-na-an-na-ma ÌR-ma sa-am-[si-a-du], ša mi-im-ma a- be-lí-ia la i¶-¢u-ú, nu-ba-la-am ir-ka-bu, ù LUGAL a-a¶ ENGURpu-ra-tim, a-na ši-pí-ir ba-ar-tim, qa-su iš-kuun (M.8860:7–12). Nous pourrons mieux comprendre ce texte difficile (cité par Durand, J.-M. CRRAI 46 (2004):164) quand son édition complète sera publiée. 40 ARMT 26/1, p. 123; MARI 6:162.

giš

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b) La phrase peut signifier littéralement ‘chaque nūbalum est grand’ ou bien ‘un nūbalum, sa renommée est grande’ (cf. A.868:6–7). Dans les deux cas, l’idée serait la même: le statut trop haut du palanquin est un argument supplémentaire pour que les enfants n’y montent pas. c) Une sorte de véhicule (CAD M1 117); sûrement pas ‘ein Bett’ comme traduit B. Groneberg. Le mot peut avoir ce sens mais il ne semble pas être employé à Mari; ici le contexte l’exclut clairement.

B. Groneberg a considéré que l’expéditeur de la lettre proposait d’utiliser un ‘grand nūbalum’ à la place d’un nūbalum à lit et de mettre sur ce nūbalum un lit-mayyaltum, ce qui n’est pas en accord avec la logique du texte. En réalité, l’expéditeur explique au roi ses raisons pour faire voyager les enfants en grand char-mayyaltum et pas en palanquin: c’est plus pratique et cela permet en outre d’éviter une situation délicate où les voyageurs n’avaient pas le statut conforme au véhicule. Enfin, il n’est pas étonnant que ce moyen de transport si prestigieux ait été destiné aussi au déplacement des effigies divines: un nūbalum d’Itur-Mer a déjà été évoqué ci-dessus; un inventaire inédit mentionne deux palanquins qui ont pu servir pour le transport des statues des dieux Lagamal et Ikšudum.41 J.-M. Durand pense que le nūbalum fabriqué à la fin du règne de Zimri-Lim représentait un ex-voto destiné à Dagan de Terqa,42 mais faute de références précises, son raisonnement m’échappe. L’horizon spatial et temporel Les archives de Mari montrent que le terme nūbalum était connu et employé bien en dehors du royaume même de Zimri-Lim. D’après la lettre A.868, les rois de Kurda et de Razama dans la région du Sindjar,43 disposaient de palanquins-nūbalum. D’ailleurs, le terme est utilisé par des représentants de régions frontalières du monde syro-mésopotamien, tels que Nanib-šawuri, roi de Haburatum dans le Haut-Tigre (A.2178),44 Zazum, roi des Qutéens (cf. n. 22), et Zazia, roi des Turukkéens (cf. n. 35), les deux peuples habitant le Zagros septentrional. En dehors des textes de Mari, le mot nūbalum n’est attesté qu’exceptionnellement. Un texte de Tell-Leilan, datant du milieu du règne de 41

M.6742+ (MDBP 3). LAPO 16:236–237. 43 Pour les localisations des toponymes des archives de Mari, voir désormais FM 5:272–276. 44 Publié par Kupper, J.-R. MHEO 2 (1994):268–270. 42

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Zimri-Lim, enregistre une sortie de bière pour des porteurs de palanquin, ša nūbalim.45 En Babylonie, un document de distribution de farine mentionne une personne ‘venue de Larsa avec le nūbalum’;46 une lettre paléobabylonienne tardive parlerait encore de ‘chargés de palanquin’ (ERÉN nu-ba-l[i]) dans un contexte peu clair (AbB 11, 77:15). Enfin, un texte d’Alalah VII, contemporain de l’époque de Samsu-iluna, enregistre de l’or pour sertir un nūbalum (ALT 372). Toutes ces attestations clairsemées datent de l’époque paléobabylonienne.47 La question se pose de savoir si la même réalité matérielle peut être documentée par les documents cunéiformes sous un autre nom ou par des sources non-écrites (archéologie et iconographie). Les témoignages assurés sont très limités: quelques textes néo-assyriens montrent que la chaise-kussûm pouvait servir à transporter le roi et d’autres personnages importants;48 l’utilisation de brancards, parfois munis d’un siège ou d’une partie couverte, est attestée par l’iconographie de la Suse proto-urbaine et à l’époque néo-assyrienne.49 Ces objets ne seraient toutefois ni descendants ni prédécesseurs du somptueux palanquin-nūbalum.50 Pourquoi ce véhicule, qui avait une telle importance à Mari, est-il presque inconnu dans toute la culture mésopotamienne? Sans doute estce un exemple supplémentaire de ces réalités qui ne sont souvent documentées que par les archives de Mari mais qui trouvent des parallèles dans le monde ouest-sémitique. En effet, des nūbalum pouvaient être fabriqués dans les régions méditerranéennes: le palanquin de Dam-hura´im fut envoyé de Qa¢na (cf. n. 37); un autre texte parle d’un nūbalum ‘de facture yamhadéenne’;51 j’ai déjà cité le document d’Alalah qui enregistre une livraison d’or pour sertir un palanquin (ALT 372). Enfin, il n’est pas

45

Or 63 (1994):320–321. [š]a it-ti nu-ba-lim, iš-tu LARSAki il-li-[kam] (VS 13, 49:6–7). Ce texte date de l’année Rim-Anum 2 = Samsu-iluna 9. 47 Un document-tākultu néo-assyrien mentionne un dnu-ba-lu (KAR 214 i 14), mais il n’est pas évident qu’il existe un lien entre cette divinité et le palanquin paléo-babylonien (pro: CAD N2 306; contra: AHw. 799). 48 Voir ma note Sänfte. A. RlA 11/7–8 (2008):498–499. 49 Seidl, U. Sänfte. B. Ibid., p. 499. 50 Des objets portés par des gens, mais différents du nūbalum, servaient à Mari au transport de malades. Tels sont les cas du lit eršum (ARMT 26, 282:7–10; ARMT 26, 370:46′–47′) et peut-être de la civière-belānum (ARMT 1, 91+ = LAPO 16, 321:3′; ARMT 26, 404:21; mais cf. Loesov, S. ARM X 4: A Commentary, Studia Semitica. Festschrift Militarev. Moscow, 2003, pp. 368–372). 51 1 gišnu-ba-lum ši-pí-ir ia-am-¶a-adki (ARMT 26, 370:49′). 46

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exclu que de tels véhicules existaient déjà à l’époque d’Ebla,52 et si on quitte le domaine cunéiforme, c’est la célèbre litière biblique de Salomon qui vient immédiatement à l’esprit (Cant. 3:9–10). Pour aller encore plus à l’ouest, les palanquins représentaient un moyen de transport assez répandu en Egypte ancienne.53 Tout cela pousse à revenir, pour terminer, à la lettre ARMT 6, 76 où Bahdi-Lim dit à Zimri-Lim que ce dernier, en tant que roi des Hanéens et des Akkadiens, doit monter soit sur le nūbalum, soit sur des mules (cf. n. 17). Ce passage mettrait en opposition deux façons royales de se déplacer: la manière ‘hanéenne’-amorrite, en palanquin, et l’‘akkadienne’-mésopotamienne, sur des mules.54 Une telle tradition expliquerait l’absence totale du nūbalum dans les textes de Mari datant du règne de YasmahAddu dont la famille et la cour adhéraient à la culture akkadienne.55 * * * Les données des textes de Mari permettent aujourd’hui de prouver que le terme nūbalum désignait une sorte de palanquin, c’est-à-dire un véhicule d’apparat porté par des hommes. Les nūbalum abondamment décorés étaient destinés au transport de personnes de sang royal, d’effigies divines et de hauts fonctionnaires, aussi bien pour des voyages assez longs que pour des déplacements dans le palais. Cette réalité, absente de la culture suméro-akkadienne, appartenait plutôt au monde méditerannéen oriental qui est, pour cette époque, surtout documenté par les archives de Mari.

52

M. G. Biga, communication personnelle. Partridge, R. Transport in Ancient Egypt. London, 1996. Pp. 88–95. 54 Durand, J.-M. LAPO 17:487. 55 Cf. Ziegler, N.; Charpin, D. WZKM 97 (2007):76. 53

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A.868 face

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419

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A.3892

Le cochon dans les listes lexicales: quelles logiques de classement? B. Lion, C. Michel* Paris–Nanterre

À François Poplin, en témoignage amical de Michelion

Dans une ferme un jour un cochon vadrouilla Dans la cuisine et l’écurie il se gouilla Fumier, déchets tripatouilla, L’eau grasse jusqu’aux oreilles il barbouilla, Et puis revint céans, Cochon comme devant… “Le porc” (III, 16) M. Colin. Fables de Krylov. Traduction et commentaire. Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1978. Pp. 69–70.

La place des suidés (la famille des cochons) dans les listes lexicales est complexe. Ces documents servaient d’abord à réfléchir sur les mots et les signes, mais ils révèlent aussi la perception du monde de ceux qui les ont élaborés. Ainsi, il a déjà été noté que le cochon, bien que domestiqué depuis le IXe millénaire av. J.-C. au Proche-Orient, est classé dans la version canonique d’ur5-ra parmi les animaux sauvages.1 L’examen des listes lexicales du IIe et du Ier millénaire met en évidence la place ambiguë des cochons, presque toujours classés parmi les espèces sauvages, mais traités parfois d’une façon qui les assimile aux animaux domestiques. Les suidés côtoient dans les listes des animaux très divers, comme les ours, les ron* B. Lion, Université Paris 1 Panthéon – Sorbonne, et C. Michel, CNRS. ArScAnHAROC, Maison René-Ginouvès Archéologie et Ethnologie. 1 Ayant travaillé avec plusieurs collègues sur les suidés à l’occasion d’un colloque (Lion–Michel 2006), nous avons souhaité approfondir ce point. Et puisque les Pr. Kogan et Militarev ont consacré plusieurs publications aux noms d’animaux, la 53e Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale à Moscou et Saint-Pétersbourg nous a semblé une occasion tout indiquée (SED II).

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geurs, les lièvres, les bovidés et les cervidés; ces classements témoignent de diverses logiques d’associations. Si la graphie des signes joue un rôle prépondérant, d’autres explications peuvent venir s’y ajouter: elles tiennent à l’aspect de l’animal ou à ses conditions d’élevage; il est également possible d’avancer des hypothèses d’ordre anthropozoologique. 1. Le corpus des listes lexicales mentionnant le cochon2 1.1. La liste archaïque d’Uruk La liste lexicale la plus ancienne concernant les suidés date de l’époque d’Uruk III:3 elle contient 58 entrées et enregistre les suidés en fonction de leur âge et de leur couleur, ainsi que les animaux engraissés et leurs produits. Elle n’est pas entièrement comprise et n’a pas de filiation directe dans les listes lexicales plus tardives. Elle a déjà fait l’objet de nombreuses études et ne sera pas prise en considération dans cet article. 1.2. Les listes paléo-babyloniennes N. Veldhuis a répertorié quatre exemplaires de listes lexicales paléo-babyloniennes comportant une section consacrée au cochon. Trois proviennent de Nippur.4 Le manuscrit SLT 37+46+ offre apparemment la même organisation que le texte IM 58670+IM 58671: les cochons y apparaissent après les rongeurs, les lézards et les tortues et avant les fourmis. Le troisième document de Nippur, SLT 51, situe les suidés après les serpents et avant les BÁN-ÚU et les rongeurs. Dans le dernier texte, YBC 4679, d’origine inconnue, la section des suidés est plus longue que dans les autres exemplaires; elle forme la transition entre la liste des animaux domestiques, qui s’achève par les équidés, et celle des animaux sauvages, qui commence avec l’aurochs et l’éléphant.

2

Les listes lexicales sont données en annexe à la fin de l’article. Englund 1995:129–131; Englund 1998:94, 170–173 et fig. 63; Cavigneaux 2006:20–21. Pour une interprétation différente, Steinkeller 1995–1996:211–214, spécialement 212–213, l’auteur considère qu’il s’agit d’une liste de personnes dépendantes. 4 Veldhuis 2006. Les transcriptions de ces textes sont disponibles sur le site élaboré par N. Veldhuis à l’adresse suvante: http://cuneiform.ucla.edu/dcclt/web/ Q000001/xQ000001.html. 3

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1.3. La liste médio-babylonienne Le revers d’un texte scolaire médio-babylonien de Nippur, UM 29-15944, également publié par N. Veldhuis, est entièrement consacré aux suidés.5 Cette liste présente la particularité d’offrir une section développée concernant la truie. 1.4. Les listes du Ier millénaire La section des suidés dans la version canonique d’ur5-ra est connue par cinq manuscrits; trois proviennent d’Aššur, un de Ninive et le dernier de Babylone.6 Cette section suit les cervidés, le lièvre et l’ours, et précède les rongeurs. Le manuscrit C (= K 71 A), originaire de Ninive, a servi à élaborer la liste canonique des suidés dans MSL. Les manuscrits K (= LTBA 1 49), de Babylone,7 et B (= LTBA 1 44) d’Aššur, présentent une section identique, mais ils sont détruits sur la fin. En revanche, les deux autres recensions assyriennes sont différentes. Le manuscrit A (= LTBA 1 40) est brisé en son début et omet deux lignes, et le manuscrit D (= LTBA 1 45), présente les variantes les plus importantes: il ignore une dizaine de lignes de la version canonique (couleur, qualité), mais introduit une petite section (3 lignes) consacrée aux femelles, et après la l. 180 de la version canonique (MSL VIII/2, 21 col. iv l. 5) il énumère une demi-douzaine de qualificatifs absents des autres listes. Le vocabulaire pratique d’Aššur constitue une sorte de résumé de ur5ra; les šá¶ n’y occupent plus que trois lignes après le lièvre, l’onagre et la gazelle et avant la section des rongeurs.8 Enfin, la série sig7-alan = Nabnītu (MSL XVI) donne un classement thématique et étymologique établi à partir de l’akkadien; le cochon y occupe le début de la 31e tablette qui n’est connue que par un unique exemplaire de Ninive.9 2. Les suidés: animaux sauvages ou domestiques? Dans le cas des suidés, la distinction entre sauvage et domestique ne va pas toujours de soi. Porc et sanglier sont interféconds et ne forment

5

Veldhuis 2000:78–79 et Veldhuis 2006:28–29. Elle est éditée dans MSL VIII/2, p. 19–21, l. 158–183. Les manuscrits comportant la section des suidés sont: A, B, C, D et K. 7 Ce texte provient du secteur de la ziggurat, cf. Pedersén 2005:286 (No. 22). 8 Landsberger–Gurney 1958:332, l. 384–386. Cette section n’est connue que par un manuscrit de Sultantepe. 9 Finkel–Civil 1982:245–246. 6

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qu’une seule espèce biologique.10 Dans l’antiquité proche-orientale, le cochon domestique ressemblait davantage au sanglier que les porcs lisses et roses d’aujourd’hui, qui sont une création récente.11 De ce fait, dans l’iconographie, l’identification de l’animal est souvent délicate et le contexte donne parfois plus d’indications que la représentation de l’animal: une scène de chasse renvoie au sauvage.12 Il n’existe pas, à notre connaissance, de scènes d’élevage de cochons. Aujourd’hui, l’imaginaire des peuples privilégie l’un ou l’autre: alors qu’en 2007, les Chinois fêtaient l’année du cochon, les Japonais célébraient l’année du sanglier. 2.1. Une place ambiguë Les listes lexicales témoignent de cette ambiguïté entre le sauvage et le domestique. Même si les troupeaux de porcs sont attestés par les textes dès l’époque d’Uruk,13 la plupart des listes lexicales classent le cochon du côté du sauvage. Ainsi, dans la tradition d’ur5-ra, les animaux domestiques sont traités sur la tablette XIII tandis que le cochon figure sur la tablette XIV avec les animaux sauvages;14 il en va de même pour le chien.15 En revanche, les autres espèces qui connaissent à la fois des formes sauvage et domestique sont réparties entre les deux tablettes. Ainsi, la section consacrée aux bovins domestiques est développée dans la tablette XIII (280–353) tandis que celle des bovins sauvages figure dans la tablette XIV (48–60). L’appartenance des suidés aux animaux sauvages est confirmée par le vocabulaire pratique d’Aššur qui fait suivre les trois entrées consacrées à ces animaux par le terme générique pour les qua-

10

Poplin 1993:530: “Ils sont une seule chose divisée en deux par l’homme”. Voir également Poplin 1976:7–8: “le croisement … a sûrement été recherché dans le passé, à la fois pour échapper à une trop grande consanguinité et pour accroître le format, car le sanglier était alors plus grand que le porc”. 11 Poplin 1976:7, à propos de la distinction entre sauvage et domestique: “plus on remonte dans le temps, plus les distinctions sont délicates, car plus le porc ressemble à la forme sauvage”. 12 Englund 1995:121–133 (sceaux d’Uruk: 121–124); Gransard-Desmond 2006a et 2006b. 13 Texte publié par Cavigneaux 1991:57 (W 23948); collations par Englund 1995:125–129; Englund 1998:169–175 et fig. 64. 14 Veldhuis 2000:78–79. 15 MSL VIII/2, p. 11, l. 61 et suivantes.

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drupèdes sauvages, máš-anše = būlu.16 Il semble déjà en aller de même à l’époque paléo-babylonienne dans les manuscrits de Nippur.17 Toutefois, on relève deux cas plus complexes. Dans l’exemplaire paléo-babylonien de provenance inconnue (YBC 4679), le classement des suidés entre les animaux domestiques et les animaux sauvages témoigne peut-être d’une hésitation.18 Dans la tablette néo-assyrienne 31 de la série Nabnītu, les suidés sont suivis des bovins domestiques, puis des bovins sauvages. 2.2. Le sexe et l’âge des animaux La tablette XIII d’ur5-ra propose des sections très développées sur les différentes espèces domestiques; elle indique le sexe de l’animal, son âge, sa race, son origine géographique, sa couleur, son alimentation… En revanche, la tablette XIV offre des rubriques beaucoup plus succinctes pour les espèces qui y sont énumérées. Parmi les sections les plus longues figure cependant celle des suidés qui compte environ vingt-cinq lignes. Dans la liste ur5-ra du Ier millénaire, seul le manuscrit D ajoute systématiquement les femelles après les mâles et donc insère munus-šá¶, la truie (col. iii l. 51), entre le cochon et le porcelet.19 En outre, dans tous les manuscrits où la fin de la section est conservée, trois lignes sont dédiées à un nom sumérien spécifique pour la truie/laie qui n’est pas formé à partir de celui du mâle: megida, mot qui peut être écrit de deux manières différentes: megida (TAB.TI) ou megida2 (TAB.KUN). Dans le manuscrit D ces trois lignes sont séparées du reste par un trait (D col. iv l. 12–14).

16

Landsberger–Gurney 1958:332, l. 387. Selon Veldhuis 2006:26, le classement des suidés et de quelques autres espèces, dans la version composite paléo-babylonienne, résulterait d’un ajout, à la fin, d’une liste d’animaux sauvages antérieurement constituée. 18 Veldhuis 2006:28. 19 Sur ce manuscrit, les noms des femelles sont indiqués par munus (femelle) +nom du mâle, comme à la col. iii, l. 47 pour la hase ou à la col. iii, l. 49 pour l’ourse. En revanche, dans tous les manuscrits, après la gazelle, maš-dù (Ú¶ XIV 152), vient le mâle, maš-(dù)-nita (Ú¶ XIV 152). Cela semble indiquer que certaines espèces sont perçues comme féminines ou masculines, indépendamment du sexe de l’animal et bien que la catégorie de genre grammatical n’existe pas en sumérien. En français, la grenouille et le crapaud correspondent à deux espèces différentes; mais la première ayant un nom de genre féminin et la seconde un nom de genre masculin, les deux animaux sont souvent perçus à tort comme étant la femelle et le mâle d’une même espèce. 17

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Dans les manuscrits paléo-babyloniens, la section des suidés est plus courte, et la truie/laie occupe la dernière ligne, après le porcelet;20 elle y est désignée par le terme megida2 (TAB.KUN) ou megidax (KUN). L’exercice cassite entièrement consacré aux suidés est exceptionnel car il consacre sept lignes sur un total de onze à la truie et énumère ses différents états par rapport à la reproduction: pleine, qui a ou n’a pas mis bas, qui a ou n’a pas été montée; ce type d’indications caractérise habituellement les animaux domestiques. munus

megida2 megida2 šag4 «U» šag4-peš-šu ù-tu nu-MIN zu-zu nu-MIN munus

truie truie pleine (truie) pleine (truie) qui a mis bas (truie) qui n’a pas idem (truie) qui a été montée (truie) qui n’a pas idem

Les listes du Ier millénaire, ur5-ra et le vocabulaire pratique d’Aššur, désignent simplement le jeune comme le “cochon petit”, šá¶-tur. À l’époque paléo-babylonienne, la liste standard de Nippur propose šá¶-zétur-tur, la liste non standard ainsi que celle d’origine inconnue šá¶-zé-e¶tur. Selon P. Steinkeller, ces différentes graphies correspondraient au nom sumérien du porcelet, za¶da ou ze¶da.21 Dans ce cas, dès le début du IIe millénaire, les listes connaissent des mots différents pour l’adulte et le jeune. Cette distinction est en général caractéristique des animaux domestiques. E. Benveniste a fait la même observation pour les langues indo-européennes qui emploient la racine *sū- pour l’adulte et *porkopour le jeune.22 Il précise que les mots spécifiques pour désigner les petits sont bien attestés pour les espèces domestiques, car l’âge des animaux importe aux éleveurs. Il en va donc de même en sumérien où l’on connaît de surcroît pour les principales espèces domestiques une distinction mâle, femelle et jeune.23 C’est le cas par exemple pour les noms sumériens des bovins: gu4, áb et amar ou des ovins: udu, u8 et sila4. Ce trait rapproche donc les suidés des animaux domestiques. 20 Excepté dans le manuscrit d’origine inconnue (YBC 4679), où le porcelet précède bien la truie mais en est séparé par cinq lignes. 21 Steinkeller 2007. 22 Benveniste 1949:85. 23 L’akkadien ne connaît, en revanche, que deux noms distincts pour le jeune (kurkizannu) et l’adulte (ša¶û, emprunté au sumérien šá¶); le nom de la femelle est construit sur ce dernier terme, ša¶îtu.

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3. Les différentes logiques d’association N. Veldhuis a bien montré qu’il ne faut pas chercher dans les listes lexicales les prémices de nos propres catégories scientifiques, en l’occurrence la zoologie ou la biologie.24 Il constate que les listes de plantes et d’animaux n’ont pas un caractère taxonomique mais sont plutôt organisées selon la graphie des signes utilisés pour écrire leurs noms. Les textes lexicaux servent à l’apprentissage de la langue et de l’écriture et non des sciences naturelles; il estime qu’il s’agit donc d’un inventaire de signes et de mots sumériens. Toutefois, il n’est pas impossible que certaines associations d’idées soient révélatrices de la perception du monde. Ainsi, pour les suidés, plusieurs autres logiques d’organisation peuvent venir se superposer aux associations graphiques: des similitudes quant au physique ou au comportement des animaux, des stratégies d’élevage communes, ou des associations d’idées que l’anthropozoologie peut mettre en valeur. 3.1. Le cochon et l’ours 3.1.1. Association graphique L’association graphique est évidente dans le cas de l’ours qui précède immédiatement la section des suidés dans ur5-ra; le nom de l’animal y est en effet écrit avec le signe šá¶: dam(ou dím)-šá¶, en akkadien dabû. Il s’agit d’un terme rare, sans doute détourné de son sens premier,25 qui n’est attesté, en dehors des listes lexicales, que dans quelques inscriptions royales néo-assyriennes; la désignation classique de l’ours est az = asu (Ú¶ XIV 120).26 En revanche, le vocabulaire pratique d’Aššur regroupe les deux noms de l’ours, az (a-za) et dam-šá¶ (l. 372–373), qui précèdent la section des suidés d’une dizaine de lignes: dans ce cas, ce n’est donc plus la logique graphique qui prédomine.27 3.1.2. Confusion iconographique S’il y a bien un rapprochement graphique de l’un des noms de l’ours et de celui cochon, d’autres similitudes entre ces deux bêtes peuvent être 24

Veldhuis 2004:81–86. Civil 1998:12, voir à ce sujet Landsberger 1934:83. 26 Pour une lecture az ou aza, cf. Attinger 2006. 27 De même, Landsberger 1934:80–83, § 19, suit une logique par espèce et regroupe les deux noms de l’ours. L’ours dam-šá¶ = dabû se trouve donc séparé des cochons qui n’apparaissent qu’au § 25, p. 100–103. 25

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mises en valeur par l’examen de leurs représentations, qui prêtent parfois à confusion. Ainsi, dans un article consacré aux rhytons et objets funéraires de Kültepe en forme de sanglier, T. Özgüç présente trois groupes de récipients.28 Dans le premier groupe, celui des rhytons zoomorphes montrant l’animal debout sur ses quatre pattes, le second vase, découvert en 1992, a un corps peint en brun-rouge et une tête beige, décorée de motifs en lignes brunes. Or les extrémités des pattes de l’animal ressemblent à celles d’un plantigrade, munies de doigts et non à celles d’un suidé aux sabots fendus. Ses oreilles sont rondes comme celle de l’ours et non pointues comme celles du sanglier et son museau allongé n’a pas la forme d’un groin (Fig. 1).29 3.1.3. Des animaux chassés ensemble Le sanglier, animal sauvage, est chassé, comme l’iconographie l’atteste abondamment. À l’époque néo-assyrienne, il ne figure pourtant que deux fois parmi les tableaux de chasse des rois. Dans ces deux cas, l’ours (asu) est aussi mentionné.30 La première attestation figure dans une inscription d’Aššur-bēl-kala:31 le roi “a tué (blanc) panthères, (blanc) tigres, (blanc) ours, 2? cochons de cannaie, (blanc) autruches. Il a fait tomber (blanc) onagres et gazelles, (blanc) loups (et) des simkurru (guépard?)…” La mention des ours précède donc immédiatement celle des cochons. L’autre référence figure sur une statue de Salmanazar III:32 “J’ai tué en combat seigneurial [x taureaux sauvages], 640 lions, 40? éléphants, [des ânons dans mon char ouvert. J’ai capturé] 28 ourses ainsi que 5 cerfs [x x

28 Özgüç 1998:248; Özgüç 2003:200. Nous remercions F. Poplin pour l’identification de l’animal. 29 Pastoureau 2007 note que, dans le monde grec, l’ours et le porc sont considérés comme les deux animaux les plus proches de l’homme (p. 44, 88 et 177). Le fait qu’ils aient, comme l’homme, un régime alimentaire omnivore a pu renforcer cette association (p. 55 et 91). L’ours et le cochon sont aussi deux animaux proches l’un de l’autre dans les traditions germaniques (p. 76) et chez les Lapons (p. 318). 30 Une association similaire est relevée par Pastoureau 2007 en Europe du Nord où, jusqu’au XIe siècle ap. J.-C., l’ours et le sanglier constituent le gibier noble par excellence (p. 81, 83). Ces deux animaux, comme les lions, sont très présents dans les ménageries royales. Dans la littérature germanique, tous deux sont les attributs traditionnels des héros (p. 192). 31 Grayson 1991:104, texte A.0.89.7, iv 22–26. 32 Grayson 1996:84, texte A.0.102.16, 343′–347′.

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x], x+112 [x x x], 51 cochons de cannaie, x+122 panthères, 1 senkurru (guépard?).” 3.1.4. Le cochon, l’ours et le chien À l’association du cochon et de l’ours s’ajoute parfois le chien. Ce dernier est d’ailleurs souvent mentionné avec le cochon, tous deux étant méprisés car considérés comme sales.33 C’est sans doute pour cette raison, en forme de dérision, qu’Asuhīli, roi d’Arzâ, vaincu par Assarhaddon, est exposé, enchaîné à la porte de Ninive, avec ces trois bêtes.34 3.2. Le cochon et les rongeurs Plusieurs listes lexicales, comme le vocabulaire pratique d’Aššur et ur5-ra, énumèrent les suidés à proximité des rongeurs. Dans les listes paléo-babyloniennes, ces deux espèces forment la transition entre les sauvages et les domestiques; or N. Veldhuis constate que suidés et rongeurs peuvent-être aussi bien chassés, sous leur forme sauvage, qu’engraissés et abattus.35 L’association de ces deux espèces se retrouve à la fin du IIIe millénaire dans les techniques d’élevage. Ainsi, la documentation administrative de Garšana, issue d’un domaine appartenant à une femme de la famille royale, fait état, dans plusieurs tablettes, de livraisons d’orge, de roseaux, de son, de dattes, de blé et de farine à des suidés et des rongeurs, ces derniers étant désignés par le terme générique péš, comme dans les listes lexicales.36 3.3. Le cochon, les bêtes à cornes et le lièvre Dans la liste ur5-ra, les suidés, précédés immédiatement par l’ours, interviennent après divers cervidés (cerf : lu-lim, si-mul, darà-maš; chevreuil: darà-maš-dù, darà-¶al-¶al-la), bovidés (bélier sauvage: šeg9; bison? : alim; gazelle: maš), ainsi qu’après le lièvre (KA-edin-na).37 Ces associations paraissent à première vue surprenantes. Toutefois, cervidés et bovidés sont munis d’appendices sur la tête; les premiers portent des bois (organes os.

33

Villard 2000; Parayre 2000:168–180 et Villard 2006. “À côté d’une grand porte à l’intérieur de Ninive, en compagnie d’un ours, d’un chien et d’un cochon, je les installai là enchaînés,” Borger 1956:50, l. 41–42, cité par Villard 2006:209. 35 Veldhuis 2006:27. 36 Owen 2006:79–80. 37 Dans le vocabulaire pratique d’Aššur, on trouve la succession: lièvre, onagre, la gazelle et son petit, puis les suidés. 34

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seux caducs, sur la tête des mâles), tandis que les seconds ont deux cornes frontales persistantes et creuses. D’un point de vue anthropozoologique, les défenses du sanglier sont assimilées à des cornes ou à des bois; F. Poplin évoque ainsi “l’équivalence de la dent du sanglier, de l’andouiller du cerf et de la corne du bouquetin… Les grandes dents du sanglier se trouvent assimilées à des cornes. Il les a sur la mâchoire, les bêtes à cornes les ont sur le front, ils les ont donc sur la tête et il n’y a pas d’animaux qui aient les deux à la fois. C’est l’un ou l’autre, ce qui favorise l’équivalence en logique profonde.”38 Cette association se retrouve dans l’iconographie néo-assyrienne à Ninive, sur un relief qui montre une laie et ses petits dans la cannaie, et des bovidés un peu plus loin ainsi qu’au registre supérieur.39 Plus troublant, le curieux rhyton mycénien trouvé à Ugarit crée un monstre hybride: il présente à la fois un groin de suidé et des cornes de caprin. Il est identifié au Musée du Louvre par un cartel indiquant “en forme de tête de sanglier” (Fig. 2).40 Dans la liste paléo-babylonienne d’origine inconnue, les suidés sont suivis par l’aurochs (am) et l’éléphant (am-si): cela relève de la même logique, qui met en relation les bêtes à cornes et celles ayant des défenses; F. Poplin ajoute que “sangliers et éléphants ont leurs cornes dans la bouche.”41 Quant au lièvre, toujours selon F. Poplin, ses longues oreilles peuvent aussi évoquer les cornes:42 “cet animal est rapporté aux bêtes à cornes 38

Poplin 1995:452. Barnett–Bleibtreu–Turner 1998 I 66–67, cour VI, dalle 61, 148 a et b; II, pl. 107–109. On trouve également un sanglier en compagnie d’un cervidé dans une cannaie sur les reliefs de la salle S1 du palais d’Aššurbanipal, cf. Barnett 1976, salle S1, pl. LXIII–LXIV, dalles A et E. 40 Poplin 2000:6. 41 Mot d’enfant cité par Victor Hugo, L’Art d’être grand-père. IV. Le Poème du Jardin des Plantes. III. Ce que dit le public (15 août 1874): “CINQ ANS, regardant l’éléphant: ‘Il a des cornes dans la bouche’.” Poplin 2000:5, met en lumière un “système des bêtes à cornes” englobant les porteurs d’appendices frontaux (bovins, moutons, chèvres, antilopes) et les animaux à longues dents saillantes (éléphants et porcins mâles). Bien entendu, dans la liste lexicale ur5-ra, le rapprochement graphique entre am, l’auroch, et am-si, l’éléphant, prime. Pour l’association iconographique du cochon avec les bêtes à cornes, cf. Gransard-Desmond 2006b:318–319. 42 Poplin 1995:463, n. 12. Sur un relief présentant une scène de chasse, du palais de Sargon à Khorsabad, un serviteur porte sur son épaule une gazelle et tient dans sa main droite un lièvre, cf. Albenda 1986:169 et fig. 76. Landsberger 1934 a omis le traitement du lièvre. 39

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dans nos associations profondes”; il développe cette idée en expliquant que “par leur museau fendu, lièvres et lapins se rapportent aux pieds fendus que sont les ruminants, c’est-à-dire les bêtes à cornes (…). Cette assimilation se fait dans la profondeur de notre esprit avec une force qu’on ne soupçonne généralement pas. Elle est favorisée par la ressemblance des longues oreilles avec les cornes (…) Dans la perception profonde, les lagomorphes sont des bêtes à cornes molles”.43 Il y aurait donc un second rapprochement possible, le museau fendu du lièvre rappelant le sabot fendu des bovidés, des cervidés et des suidés. Les bêtes à cornes, à bois, à défenses et le lièvre formeraient donc dans notre imaginaire un groupe que l’on retrouverait dans les listes lexicales. *** Si la logique des associations graphiques a bien présidé à la rédaction des listes lexicales, cette constatation n’exclut donc pas d’autres possibilités de relations entre les espèces. Elles ne relèvent pas forcément de la classification zoologique, mais s’appuient plutôt sur un bestiaire mental que l’anthropozoologie met en lumière. De ce point de vue, les contacts interdisciplinaires avec nos collègues du Muséum, spécialistes de ces domaines, nous ont paru très enrichissants. C’est pourquoi nous envisageons de les poursuivre, mais pour l’étude d’autres espèces, car nous espérons maintenant avoir suffisamment rendu hommage aux cochons.

43

Poplin 1990:30.

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Fig. 1. Rhyton zoomorphe en forme d’ours, Kültepe, XIXe siècle av. J.-C. Musée des Civilisations Anatoliennes, Ankara (Özgüç 1998:248; 2003:200)

Fig. 2. Vase mycénien zoomorphe, Ugarit, XIVe siècle av. J.-C. Musée du Louvre, Paris. AO 19932 (photo: X. Faivre)

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Les listes lexicales Les listes paléo-babyloniennes (N. Veldhuis. http://cuneiform.ucla.edu/ dcclt/web/Q000001/xQ000001.html) IM 58670 +IM 58671 Rongeurs Lézards Tortues R iv 19 šá¶ 20 šá¶ giš-gi 21 šá¶ u4-MAŠ.MAŠ 22 šá¶ niga [...]

SLT 37+46+

SLT 51

YBC 4679

Rongeurs [...]

Serpents [...]

Equidés

R ii 16′ šá¶ 17′ šá¶ giš-gi 18′ šá¶ u4-uš-šú 19′ šá¶ niga 20′ šá¶ má-gan 21′ šá¶ nam-erímma 22′ šá¶ nam-en?ak 23′ šá¶ zé-tur-tur 24′ megidax

R ii 1 […]-a-ak 2 šá¶ má-gan 3 šá¶ zé-e¶-tur 4 megidax

R iii 36 šá¶ 37 šá¶ giš-gi 38 šá¶ niga 39 šá¶ ama-gan 40 šá¶ zé-e¶-tur 41 šá¶ sig4-sig4 42 [šá¶] nam-a-aak R iv 1 šá¶ LIŠ-a 2 šá¶ iri 3 šá¶ si-mu-ra 4 megida2 Aurochs Elephant

Fourmis

5 BÁN.ÚU [...] Rongeurs

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La liste cassite (Veldhuis 2000) 01 šá¶ si-mur-rum 02 nam-ni-a-ak 03 giš-gi 04 iri nita 05 munusmegida2 06 munusmegida2 šag4 “U” 07 šag4-peš-šu 08 ù-tu 09 nu-MIN 10 zu-zu 11 nu-MIN Vocabulaire pratique d’Aššur (Landsberger–Gurney 1958:332, manuscrit A de Sultantepe, 334–336) Lièvre (l. 380), onagre (l. 381), gazelle (l. 382–383) 384 šá¶ giš-gi šá-¶a-pu 385 šá¶ (šá-¶a) šá-¶u-u 386 šá¶-tur kur-ki-za-nu 387 máš-anše bu-u-lu _______________________________ 388 rongeurs (péš) … Nabnītu (Finkel–Civil 1982, tablette XXXI, p. 245–246) Colonne i 1 šá¶ šá-¶[u-ú] 2 gir šá-¶[u-ú] 3 ša¶ giš-gi MIN lam-[pi] 4 šá¶-šá¶ MIN M[IN] 5 ša¶-zé-da MIN M[IN] 6 me-gíd-daAŠ.KUN šá-¶i-[tum] 7 MINmegida šá-¶i-[tum] Viennent ensuite d’autres mots se prononçant également ša¶û en akkadien, comme le poisson (l. 9) ou l’étoffe (l. 11).

B. Lion, C. Michel, Le cochon dans les listes lexicales…

Liste ur5-ra (MSL VIII/2:19–21) C. K 71 A (II R 6) Ovins sauvages, Bison, Cerf, Bouquetin, Chevreuil, Gazelle Lièvre Ours (dam-šá¶) iii, 21–46 zé-e¶ šá-¶u-ú šá¶ MIN [šá¶]-tur kur-ki-za-an-nu š[a¶-giš-gi šá¶]-¶a-pu šá¶-[giš-gi-ìkú-e bur-ma]-mu šá¶-[bar-g]ùn -nu MIN šá¶-zé-da-baršur-ra MIN šá¶-má-ga-na ma-ak-ka-nu-ú šá¶-min-sig5-ga MIN dam-qu šá¶-¶uš-a ¶u-uš-šu-ú šá¶-¶uš-a ru-uš-šu-ú šá¶-sa7-a ba-nu-ú šá¶-bar-guz ap-par-ru-ú šá¶-si-mur-ra ŠU-u šá¶-nam-enna-ak-a bit-ru-ú šá¶-tab-ri-ri-ga ku-´a-a-a šá¶-še ma-ru-ú šá¶-še-sig5-ga MIN dam-qu šá¶-babbar šá¶-ge6 šá¶-sa5 [šá¶]-gùn-nu [šá¶]-sig7-sig7 me-gíd-da šá-¶i-tum megida MIN [megida2] MIN

B. LTBA 1 44 Bovins sauvages, Cerf, Bouquetin, Chevreuil, Gazelle Lièvre Ours (dam-šá¶) iii, 16–35 zé-e¶ [ša]-¶[u-ú] šá¶ MIN šá¶-tur kur-ki-[za-an-nu] šá¶-giš-gi šá¶-[¶a-pu] šá¶-giš-gi-ìkú-e bur-m[a-mu] šá¶-bar-g[ùngùn-n]u MIN šá¶-SI-da-baršur-ra MIN šá¶-má-ga-na ma-[ak-ka-nu-ú] šá¶-min-sig5-ga MIN dam-[qu] šá¶-¶uš-a ¶[u-u]š-š[u-ú] šá¶-¶uš-a [ru]-uš-š[u-ú] šá¶-[sa]7-a ba-n[u-ú] šá¶-bar-guz a[p-par-ru-ú] šá¶-s[i-mur-ra] [Š]U-u šá¶-nam-e[n-naak-a bit-ru-ú] šá¶-tab-ri-ri-ga ku-´a-a-[a] šá¶-še ma-r[u-ú] šá¶-še-si[g5-ga] MIN dam-qu šá¶-babbar pi-´[u-ú] [šá¶-g]e6 ´[al-mu]

435

436

Sumerian and Akkadian Lexicon and Terminology

Liste ur5-ra (MSL VIII/2:19–21) K. LTBA 1 49 Gazelle Lièvre Ours (dam-šá¶) ii 158–168 zé-e¶ šá¶ šá¶-tur šá¶-giš-gi šá¶-giš-gi-ì-kú-e šá¶-bar-gùngùn-nu šá¶-zé-e-pašur-ra šá¶-má-ga-na šá¶-má-ga-nasig5-ga šá¶-¶u[š-a] šá¶-¶[uš-a]

A. LTBA 1 40 Ovins sauvages, Cerf, Bouquetin, Chevreuil […]

iii 1–13 [ša-¶u-ú] [ša-¶u-ú] [kur-ki-za-an-nu] [šá¶-¶a-pu] [bur-ma-mu] [bur-ma-mu] [bur-ma-mu] [ma-ak-ka-nu-ú] [ma-ak-ka-nu-ú dam-qu] [¶u-uš-šu-ú] [ru-uš-šu-ú]

š[á¶-sa7-a šá[¶-bar-guz šá¶-[si-mur-ra šá¶-[nam-en-naak-a šá¶-t[ab]-r[iri-ga šá¶-š[e šá¶-še-sig5-g[a šá¶-ba[bbar šá¶-g[e6 šá¶-gùn-gùn[-nu me-gíd-da [megida me[gida2

Rongeurs Mangouste

ba-nu-ú] ap-par-ru-ú] ŠU-u] bit-ru-ú] ku-´a-a-a] ma-ru-ú] ma-ru-ú dam-qu] pi-´u-ú] ´al-mu] bur-ru-mu] ša-¶i-tu ša-¶i-tu] ša-¶i-tu]

B. Lion, C. Michel, Le cochon dans les listes lexicales… Liste ur5-ra (MSL VIII/2:19–21) D. LTBA 1 45 Cerf, Bouquetin, Chevreuil, Gazelle Lièvre Ours (dam-šá¶) iii 50–59 — iv 1–14 šá¶ munus-šá¶ šá¶-tur šá¶-giš-gi šá¶-min-kú-e šá¶-giš-ùr-ra

ša-¶u-u ša-¶i-tum kur-ki-za-nu šá-¶a-a-pu bur-ma-mu ár-ra-bu

šá¶-má-ga-na šá¶-min-sig5

MIN

ma-ka-nu-u dam-qu

šá¶-še ma-ru-ú šá¶-še-sig5 MIN dam-[qu] šá¶-babbar p[i-´u-ú] šá¶-ge6 ´al-[mu] šá¶-sa5 sa-[a-mu] šá¶-gùn-a bur-[ru-mu] šá¶-sig7-sig7 ir-[qu] šá¶-šu-gi še-e-[bu] šá¶-šu-gi-na ŠU-ú šá¶-gá-na-gig-dug4-ga ŠU šá¶-šu-min ú-zu-b[u] šá¶-nam-lugal-la-ak-a bit-[ru-ú] šá¶-nam-Ù šap-´u _________________________________________ munus-šá¶ ša-¶i-tu megida MIN megida2 Rongeurs

437

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Bibliographie Albenda 1986 Attinger 2006 Barnett 1976 Barnett–Bleibtreu– Turner 1998 Benveniste 1949 Borger 1956 Cavigneaux 1991 Cavigneaux 2006

Civil 1998 Englund 1995

Englund 1998

Finkel–Civil 1982 Gransard-Desmond 2006a

Gransard-Desmond 2006b

Grayson 1991 Grayson 1996 Landsberger 1934

Albenda, P. The palace of Sargon King of Assyria. Paris. Attinger, P. Aza ‘‘ours’’. NABU 2006/37. Barnett, R. D. Sculptures from the North Palace of Ashurbanipal at Niniveh (668–627 B. C.). London. Barnett, R. D.; Bleibtreu, E.; Turner, G. Sculptures from the Southwest Palace of Sennacherib at Niniveh. London. Benveniste, E. Noms d’animaux en indo-européen. BSL 45:74–103. Borger, R. Die Inschriften Assarhaddons, Königs von Assyrien (AfO Bh 9). Graz. Cavigneaux, A. Die Texte der 33. Kampagne. BaM 22: 33–123. Cavigneaux, A. Les suidés: pictogrammes et listes lexicales. Lion, B.; Michel, C. (éd.). De la domestication au tabou. Paris. Pp. 15–24. Civil, M. “Adamdun,” the Hippopotamus, and the Crocodile. JCS 50:11–14. Englund, R. K. Late Uruk Pigs and Other Herded Animals. Finkbeiner, U.; Dittmann, R.; Hauptmann, H. (éd.). Beiträge zur Kulturgeschichte Vorderasiens. Festschrift für Rainer Michael Boehmer. Mainz. Pp. 121–133. Englund, R. K. Texts from the Late Uruk Period. Bauer, J.; Englund, R. K.; Krebernik, M. Späturuk-Zeit und Frühdynastische Zeit (OBO 160/1). Freiburg. Pp. 13–233. Finkel, I.; Civil, M. The Series SIG7.ALAN = Nabnītu (MSL XVI). Rome. Gransard-Desmond, J.-O. Du sanglier au porc, l’iconographie proche-orientale du IVe au Ier millénaire av. J.-C. Lion, B.; Michel, C. (éd.). De la domestication au tabou. Paris. Pp. 41–58. Gransard-Desmond, J.-O. L’utilisation du cochon et l’iconographie proche-orientale du IVe au Ier millénaire av. J.-C. Lion, B.; Michel, C. (éd.). De la domestication au tabou. Paris. Pp. 313–324. Grayson, A. K. Assyrian Rulers of the Early First Millennium BC I (1114–859 BC) (RIMA 2). Toronto. Grayson, A. K. Assyrian Rulers of the Early First Millennium BC II (858–745 BC) (RIMA 3). Toronto. Landsberger, B. Die Fauna des alten Mesopotamien nach der 14. Tafel der Serie ÚAR-RA = ¶ubullu. Leipzig.

B. Lion, C. Michel, Le cochon dans les listes lexicales… Landsberger–Gurney 1958 Lion–Michel 2006 Owen 2006

Özgüç 1998 Özgüç 2003 Parayre 2000

Pastoureau 2007 Pedersén 2005 Poplin 1976 Poplin 1990 Poplin 1993

Poplin 1995

Poplin 2000

Steinkeller 1995–1996

Steinkeller 2007 Veldhuis 2000 Veldhuis 2004

Veldhuis 2006

439

Landsberger, B.; Gurney, O. Practical Vocabulary of Assur. AfO 18:328–341. Lion, B.; Michel, C. (éd.). De la domestication au tabou: le cas des suidés au Proche-Orient ancien. Paris. Owen, D. Pigs and Pig By-Products at Garšana in the Ur III Period. Lion, B.; Michel, C. (éd.). De la domestication au tabou. Pp. 75–87. Özgüç, T. Boar-shaped Cult Vessels and Funeral Objects at Kaniš. AoF 25:247–256. Özgüç, T. Kültepe Kaniš/Neša. The Earliest International Trade Center and the Oldest Capital City of the Hittites. Istanbul. Parayre, D. Les suidés dans le monde syro-mésopotamien aux époques historiques. Parayre, D. (éd.). Les animaux et les hommes dans le monde syro-mésopotamien aux époques historiques (Topoi Sup 2). Lyon. Pp. 141–206. Pastoureau, M. L’ours. Histoire d’un roi déchu. Paris. Pedersén, O. Archive und Bibliotheken in Babylon: die Tontafeln der Grabung Robert Koldeweys 1899–1917. Saarbrücken. Poplin, F. Origine du porc. Ethnozoothechnie 16:6–13. Poplin, F. Le cheval, le canard et le navire et pourquoi pas le lapin. Anthropozoologica 12:13–33. Poplin, F. Que l’homme cultive aussi bien le sauvage que le domestique. Exploitation des animaux sauvages à travers le temps. XIIIe Rencontres Internationales d’Archéologie et d’Histoire d’Antibes, IVe colloque international de l’Homme et l’Animal, 15–16–17 octobre 1992. Juan les Pins. Pp. 527–538. Poplin, F. La chasse au sanglier et la vertu virile. Homme et animal dans l’antiquité romaine. Actes du colloque de Nantes 1991, Caesarodunum n° hors série. Tours. Pp. 445–467. Poplin, F. De la corne à l’ivoire. Des ivoires et des cornes dans les mondes anciens (Orient-Occident). Collection de l’Institut d’Archéologie et d’Histoire de l’Antiquité. Lyon. Pp. 1–10. Steinkeller, P. Compte rendu de R. K. Englund, H. J. Nissen et P. Damerow. Die lexikalischen Listen der archaischen Texten aus Uruk. Berlin, 1993. AfO 42–43:211–214. Steinkeller, P. The Sumerian Pig Term ŠÁÚ.ZÉ.DA. NABU 2007/18. Veldhuis, N. Kassite Exercises: Literary and Lexical Extracts. JCS 52:67–94. Veldhuis, N. Religion, Literature, and Scholarship: The Sumerian Composition ‘‘Nanše and the Birds’’ (CM 22). Leyden–Boston. Veldhuis, N. How to Classify Pigs: Old Babylonian and Middle Babylonian Lexical Texts. Lion, B.; Michel, C. (éd.). De la domestication au tabou. Paris. Pp. 25–29.

440 Villard 2000

Villard 2006

Sumerian and Akkadian Lexicon and Terminology Villard, P. Le chien dans la documentation néo-assyrienne. Parayre, D. (éd.). Les animaux et les hommes dans le monde syro-mésopotamien aux époques historiques (Topoi Sup 2). Lyon. Pp. 235–249. Villard, P. Le porc dans les sources néo-assyriennes. Lion, B.; Michel, C. (éd.). De la domestication au tabou. Paris. Pp. 205–214.

The Qersu in Neo-Assyrian Cultic Setting Its Origin, Identification, Depiction and Evolution*

Natalie N. May Ben-Gurion University of the Negev

Proper understanding of the cultic locus described in ritual texts as qersu is the key to comprehension of many of the Neo-Assyrian royal rituals. The present study is dedicated to defining this word and identifying its artistic representations. The etymology Already Parpola (1983:65–66) pointed to the possible West Semitic origin of this word. He associated it with the Hebrew qäräš, which he interpreted as board, prow (?) and Ugaritic qrš, translated by him as ‘abode’. In his view the meaning of qersu in Akkadian was ‘a fenced area (mostly situated in the temple precincts) reserved for the performance of cultic and magical rituals demanding the highest secrecy: apotropaic rituals …, extispicies …, divine meal …, etc.’ Deller (1987:231) tried to prove (contra Parpola 1983:65–66 and CAD Q 269) that in Neo-Assyrian qersu means ‘Weinlaube.’ He relates to Talmudic Heb. "ryš and Arabic "arīš, as to West and South Semitic evidence for the parallels to the meaning ‘Weinlaube’ suggested by him, though he himself admitted the phonetic difficulty of such etymology. Highly important is that all the evidence he brings in favour of his suggestion derives from late usage in Talmudic Hebrew and Aramaic, and modern in Arabic (ibid. 231 and n. 20). Recently Fleming (2000) compared the early Akkadian evidence from Mari with the Ugaritic examples1 and the Biblical texts. As for the meaning of qersu in the texts from Mari, he follows Durand’s interpretation, * I am most grateful to Prof. Simo Parpola and Prof. Victor Hurowitz for reading and correcting the earlier draft of this article, and to Elnathan Weissert for his help. 1 All the Ugaritic examples of the use of qrš come from the same stock-phrase (see Cunchillos–Vita 1995:1786): wtb!u qrš.mlk. !ab. šnm—‘and entered the qrš of the Father of Years’ (i. e. El) with an exception of one uncertain very damaged and reconstructed context (KTU 1.163:10).

442

Sumerian and Akkadian Lexicon and Terminology

that it is ‘a heavy object that serves to raise the structure of the tent’ (Fleming 2000:487), while the tent in question is a public structure, analogous in his view to the Biblical sanctuary tent. The Ugaritic qrš he translates ‘tent-shrine’ (ibid. 491–492), following Cross and Clifford, and pointing to the possible pars pro toto interpretation of qersu in the Mari kispum text (see below) and in the Ugaritic Baal myth. His conclusion is that in Mari, in Ugarit and in the Bible the qersu/qrš/qäräš is a frame of a public tent, or the priestly tent sanctuary, the portable tent-shrine itself. Indeed the Hebrew qäräš is everywhere in the Bible, with but one exception,2 associated with miškān. Actually it is found mostly in the description of the tent sanctuary in Ex 26:17–28 and 36:21–34. The meaning is ‘frame’ or ‘board.’3 I believe that the history of qersu in Akkadian is more complicated than that suggested by Deller, and its exact meaning and designation as well as the form evolved gradually. Let us examine the texts at our disposal in order to trace this evolution. Use of qersu in Akkadian The translation by the dictionaries CAD Q gives two meanings for the qersu under two separate entries qirsu A (a sacred area; Q 269a–b) and qirsu B (a wooden object; Q 269b–270a). Parpola (1983:66, n. 124) believes, that qirsu B is ‘a wooden vehicle (drawn by asses).’ “… This word may or may nor be etymologically related to (GIŠ) qersu ‘sacred enclosure’.” Finally, the evidence from Mari, limited to one quotation only, is summarized under CAD Q 270a qirsû s. (mng. unkl.). AHw. 918a translates qersu as ‘ein hölzerner Verschlag,’ but differentiates between cultic and profane usages. In my view it is definitely the same object both in cultic context and in other cases, but is it a ‘Verschlag’? 1. Mari As noted, CAD Q 270a gives one example for this word from Mari texts along with the remark “mng. unkn.”

2

Ez 27:6; this exceptional passage is exhaustively treated by Fleming (2000: 491). Parpola’s translation as ‘prow?’ probably comes from here. 3 See Hurowitz 1995:134–143; 147–151 on the reconstruction of the Tabernacle’s wooden frame of qěrāšîm.

N. May, The Qersu in Neo-Assyrian Cultic Setting…

443

The text cited by CAD Q 270a is a kispum ritual (M.12803), which, as all scholars agree (Durand–Guichard 1997:63; Fleming 1999:1614), is dated to the reign of Samsi-Addu I. It is one of four presently known ritual texts from Mari, first published by Birot (1980:139–150) and reedited by Durand–Guichard (1997:63–70, 76–77). The passage of interest for us (obv. ii 7–14) was collated by Fleming (2000:490–491). The text is a ritual of the funerary offerings to the statues of Sargon I and Naram-Sin. Birot (ibid. 139) saw in this ceremony a legitimation rite aimed at connecting Samsi-Addu I’s dynasty with the divine kings of Akkad—a tendency well attested also for the Assyrian Sargonids. The importance of this text for further understanding of the qersu, its functions, origin and cultic setting makes it necessary to be reviewed here again (following Fleming 2000: 490–491): Col. II 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14.

ūm gimkim qersū iššakkanū imērum iddâk ilū u enūt[um] ina libbi qersī u´´û ilum ana bītišu šarru a[na] ekallišu illak ‘On the gimkim day the qersus are installed. A donkey is killed. The gods and the utensils come out from inside the qersu. The god to his house, the king to his palace goes.’

The essential features designating the qersu in this text are: a. The obviously temporal and portable character of the qersu, which can be installed and removed.5 b. Its being a separate structure outside the temple, in which the gods are only temporarily staying for a certain purpose—the donkey ‘sacrifice’ (¶ajjaram qatālum, e. g. ARM 2, 37:11). Thus the nomadic Amorite rite was to be performed in a typically nomadic type of a sanctuary (Fleming 2000:491). c. The donkey ‘sacrifice’ itself is an extremely important feature for understanding the meaning of qersu in its later Neo-Assyrian context, where it is closely connected with donkeys or colts. It is rather certain that a ritual slaughtering is meant here, and the use of iddâk in connection with the

4

Durand and Guichard assume it because the ritual is performed for Sargon I and Naram-Sin; Fleming bases this dating on calendrical matters. 5 The gods and utensils are removed from the qersu and returned to their permanent place.

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Sumerian and Akkadian Lexicon and Terminology

donkey, even though the same text chooses innaqqi for the sheep sacrifice (I 7, 8 etc.), is to be noted. d. The qersu here is used to designate the entire structure and not only its wooden frame. The determinative GIŠ is missing. Thus, we can assume that the term is employed pars pro toto, which is characterized by the absence of the determinative GIŠ. e. Participation of the king in the rite involving the qersu as will be observed also in the Neo-Assyrian period.

To this example Fleming (2000:486–487 and n. 11) adds two others from Mari (M.6873 and M.6754). In both of them qersu is written with the determinative GIŠ and is related to ¶urpatum—the tent itself or its fabric. The first (M.6873)6 is an administrative text, listing the numbers of men responsible for each part of the tent. It provides the information that one large tent could have ten qersus and the notion that qersus are to be installed (following Fleming 2000:486–487; Durand–Guichard 1997: 65–66): ¶urpatum rabītum 16 awīlū 10 GIŠqersū 20 awīlū 5 GIŠmuzzazū 5 awīlū 14 GIŠmurudû 2 awīlū napḫarum 43 awīlū ša ¶urpatim rabītim … 10 GIŠqersū 3 GIŠmurudû 2 awīlū našû ‘One large tent (by) 16 men, 10 qersus (by) 20 men, 5 stands? (by) 5 men, 3 fence units? (by) 2 men—total: 43 men pertaining to the large tent— … 10 qersus (and) 3 fence units? (by) 2 men are carried.’

This text presents an interesting parallel to Num 3:25–37 and 4:24– 33, ascribing such duties of transportation of various parts of the Tabernacle to certain Levitical families. The Gershonites are responsible for the covers and other skin and textile constituents of the Tabernacle and the altar; the furniture and other sacral utensils are assigned to the Kohathites; and carrying the frames (qaršê hammiškān), bars, posts and sockets is the duty of the Merari family (Num 3:36–37): ‫שׁכָּן וּב ְִריחָיו ְו ַעמֻּדָ יו ַואֲדָ נָיו ְוכָל־ ֵכּלָיו וְכ ֹל‬ ְ ‫שׁמ ֶֶרת ְבּנֵי מ ְָר ִרי ק ְַרשֵׁי ַה ִמּ‬ ְ ‫וּ ְפקֻדַּ ת ִמ‬ .‫ ְו ַע ֻמּדֵ י ֶה ָחצֵר ָסבִיב וְאָדְ נֵיהֶם וִיתֵ ד ֹתָ ם וּמֵיתְ ֵריהֶם‬: ‫עֲב ֹדָ תוֹ‬ ‘The marshalled force bearing the Merarite assignment is charged with the planks (qaršê) of the Tabernacle, and its bolts; its posts and 6

Unpublished, partially cited in Durand–Guichard 1997:65–66.

N. May, The Qersu in Neo-Assyrian Cultic Setting…

445

its sockets, and all of its appurtenances, and their complete construction; also the posts of the courtyard, on every side; and their sockets, their tent pegs, and their lashings.’7

The last text from Mari mentioning the qersu is a letter (M.6754, Birot 1993:211) from the governor of Qa¢¢anân, Zimri-Addu whom he calls ‘brother’. Its concern is the delivery of a tent (¶urpatum) with its qersus to Zimri-Addu. This document indicates the connection of ¶urpatum and its qersus with the military campaigns and probably with the king (following Birot 1993:211 and Heimpel 2003:453, No. 27 124 for the translation): 



Obv. ana [Šunu]¶ra- ¶a [lû] / qibima / umma Zimri-Addu / a¶ukāma / x   x x x kīma ¶ur [pa- (…) Rev. annumma ¢uppam a[na ´ēr šarri?] / ušābilam šupur[ma ¶urpatam] / šâti lilqūn[i]m[ma / ša šuddun ¶u[rpatim šâti] / qadum GIŠqersīša [epuš] / ana mātim šanītim ū[lūma] tillatim / b[ēlī i]l[l]ak ¶urpatam / [lā]? [i]kallūnim / [ina annêti]m a[¶]¶ūtka / [u rā’imūtka] lūmur Obv. [Say to Shu-Nu]hra-halu: [so (says) Zi]mri-Addu, your brother. … as for the [tent] (…). Rev. Now I have sent a letter to the [king?]. Write [and] may they fetch me this [tent]. [Make] so that this tent will be handed over together with its qersus. (If) [my lo]rd will go to another land or else, to the aid (of someone), they shell [not?] withhold the tent. Let me see in this your brotherly attitude [and friendship] in this!

The qersu, previously unattested in Akkadian, appears for the first time in an Amorite ritual. The West Semitic connections of the qersu, explored by Fleming (2000:486–487) and its functions as they appear in the above cited text M.12803 ii 7–14, suggest that it is a loan word and a term for a nomadic tent sanctuary or its wooden frame. Taking into consideration that Mari was governed by the Amorite dynasty of Samsi-Addu I, we can propose that it also was in use in Assyria, ruled at this time by the same dynasty, and from there it was passed down into the Neo-Assyrian epoch. 2. Neo-Assyrian As inner Akkadian evidence for his theory Deller addresses the usage of this word in ritual contexts (see below), consisting of nine quotations appearing in CAD Q 269 under qirsu A (a sacred area) = AHw. 918a qersu ‘ein hölzerner Verschlag 1) im Kult’; but his main source of inspiration is nevertheless the famous relief with the so-called “Garden Scene” of Ashurbanipal (BM 124920; fig. 1 and esp. 1a). 7

Translation following Levine 2000:153.

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Sumerian and Akkadian Lexicon and Terminology

It is important to stress that all the examples treated by Deller and CAD under the entry ‘(a sacred area),’ which involve cultic activities, are related to the king, and all derive from the times of Esarhaddon and Ashurbanipal, except for VAT 10464 which, as Deller (1987:235) himself recognizes, is impossible to date. Three of them introduce qersu as a spot where a certain part of a royal ritual takes place with the participation of the king: 1) K.10209: this is the terminating point of the field war ritual, ending a series of rites, which include sacrifice performed by the king, ll. 38 to 45, 46: (šarru…) erāb āli ana madākti uppaš [an]a qersi errab naptunu iššakkan [ša]rru i¶addu ‘(The king …) performs a triumphal entrance into the camp. He enters the qersu. A meal is prepared. The king rejoices.’

2) VAT 10464rev. vi 3–11. The ritual is performed with a letter coming to the city of Ashur from the field and is a part of the akītu-festival: našpartu ina GIŠqersi ušerrab ušeššab dariu ina[ssa¶] silqu epp[al] [unī]qu iqallu ¶ariu ipatte našpartu ina libâni ša rab! šipirte ikar!rar ana Libbi-āli illaka kî kunukku issu Libbi-āli ana mu¶¶i urigallu illakanni8 ‘He brings the letter into the qersu (and) puts (it there), makes sacrifices, offers boiled food, he burns a female kid (and) opens a ¶ariu, puts the letter on the neck of the message master, comes to Ashur. When the sealed (letter) from Ashur upon the divine symbol comes …’

Sacrifices are made inside the qersu, when the letter is brought into it. The same ritual is performed, when the letter is taken from the Libbi-āli (centre) of the city of Ashur to the divine symbols (urigallu; ll. 10–11), probably to the military camp (May 2007:235–236). Thus the text connects the qersu and the divine standards. The text comments explicitly (ibid. ll. 12–13) that the same rites are to be performed ‘either in Kalhu, or in Nineveh, or in hostile land,’ which is evidence that the qersu was a portable freestanding structure, available for ceremonies performed in field, as was the Biblical miškān (e. g. Ex. 26). 3) A125 (van Driel 1969, 123:128–129rev. v 8–14 = Menzel 1981 T 35rev.:9–15). This is a royal ritual belonging to the ceremonies of the cult of Ashur starting on 16 Shebat and continuing until 10 Adar, as the first lines of the text declare. Ashurbanipal and the limmu of Bēl-Harran8

The main clause is broken away.

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šaddû’a (year 650) are also mentioned there, probably designating the year when the ritual was performed. Van Driel (ibid. 140) remarks that it remains obscure whether these rites took place yearly. The ceremony involving the qersu was held on 8 Adar (Menzel 1981 T 35rev. v 9–15), presumably during the procession in the Anu temple, in which Ashur participated (ibid. 144). It involved the following acts: 7. issi Bēl-agû ana bēt Anu illakū 8. Aššur ina šubtišu ussēšib nidnakka gizillâ 9. ittapa¶ darâte inassa¶ 10. itqūru9 ša akussu issakan ¶ammurtu 11. ētapal uttazziz šarru u´´â 12. ¢ābtu ina mu¶¶i takmēsāni ša ina libbi GIŠqersi 13. uq¢arrib buzāti umtarriqū 14. šarru ina ekalli ītašar ‘With the Lord-Crown they go to the temple of Anu. (The king) seated Aššur on his seat, lit a censer and a torch, and performed the sheep offerings. He placed out a plate with soup, provided hammurtu-beer, and remained standing (upon the stand). The king came out. He strewed salt upon the slaughtered sheep10 inside the qersu.11 They broke the glass vessels. The king went straight to the palace.’

This passage makes it clear again that qersu is a freestanding structure outside the temple, here in the precinct of the temple of Anu. 4) A variant of the previous text is Menzel 1981 T 50–51: 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35. 36. 37. 9

āšipu šiptu AGA ME.L[Á]M.A.NI šiptu GIŠ.TUKUL IM.MA.x imannu šarru ana bēt tikāte ētarba īlu ana eli ki[turr]rišu ušeššib(u) Šerū’a Kippat-māti [Tašmētu] [K]alappu Madânu issi īli ina bēt Adad [itt]al[ku] īlu ina šubtišu ušeššib(u) nidnakka giz[illâ] [ittapa¶ … ] AN GAR BE GIŠ ti ētapla12 [ ] ētapla ¶ammurtu ētapla x [ ]x (x) šamnu na¶armu¢u uq¢arrib x [ ]x (x) zīqtu ša bu´inni  x x x[ ]-šu ukâl šarru u´´â ina nēreb bēt A[nu i]zziz uttazziz šarru u´´â  ¢ābtu ina eli paššūrē ša ina libbi GIŠqersi ša x [ ][x x] uq¢arrib

Van Driel (1969:128) reads DUG! = karpatu. Van Driel (ibid. 129) suggests ‘pickled mutton.’ 11 Menzel (1981 T 37) translates qersu as ‘Hütte’ here. 12 Probably [ittapa¶ … issak]an aklu ina karpati ētapla ‘[lit] a censer (and) a torch, [… set], provided food in a bowl’? 10

448

Sumerian and Akkadian Lexicon and Terminology ‘The exorcist receited the Radiance of the Crown incantation and Weapon … incantation. The king entered bēt tikāte; he seated the god on his chair. Šerū’a Kippat-māti [Tašmētu K]a[la]ppu Madânu went to the temple of Adad together with the god; he seated the god on his seat; [lit.] a censer (and) a torch, … provided; … provided; provided ¶ammurtu-beer; strewed a dissolved oil; wick lamp … held. The king came out, stood at the entrance to the temple of Anu (and) remained standing. The king came out. He strewed salt upon the table in the qersu.’

The rest of the examples mentioning qersu in ritual context derive from letters written to the king by his officials. 5) In a letter (K 511 = ABL 21 = LAS 178 = SAA 10, 264obv.:6–10, rev.:1–2 = Parpola 1993:208) addressed either to Esarhaddon or to Ashurbanipal, the royal chief exorcist Marduk-shakin-shumi asks the king’s permission to bring the skulls into the qersu: gulgullāte šina ša ina libbi dulli qabûni nušēriba ina qersi kuzippi nu-šáURU!-bi!-iš! ina libbi niškun ‘May we bring these skulls prescribed in the ritual into the qersu, clothe them with garments and install them there?’

This letter and the first example (K.10209) together with Ashurbanipal’s “Garden Scene” (BM 124920; fig. 1a), where the severed head is hanging from a tree next to the king banqueting with his queen in a vine arbour, led Deller to suggest that this vine arbour is the qersu. Ceremonies with enemy’s head are an important part of a triumphal erāb ali in the time of Esarhadon and Ashurbanipal (Tadmor 2004:269–270; May 2007:257–299). The text of the field war ritual (K.10209:45–46; Deller 1992:342–343; May 2007:190–193) involves a qersu as a place of royal banquet. The depiction of the field war ritual (fig. 2), which I suggest be identified with this text (ibid.), represents among other ceremonies Assyrian soldiers in unique decorated skirts carrying severed heads of the enemies and standing in front of a baldachin structure. The last, as I will try here to prove, is a qersu. 6) In the other letter Esarhaddon’s chief haruspex, Marduk-shumuu´ur, along with two other diviners, Na´iru and Aqar-Aia, all known to be involved with writing of queries to the Sun god (PNA 121, 721–725; 934– 935), ask royal permission to leave, because (K 89 = ABL 181 = LAS 115 = SAA 10, 176obv.:8–10 = Parpola 1993:138): dullīni ina libbi qersi ibašši ‘We have our rites to perform in the qersu.’

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7) Rites (dullu) are mentioned again in connection with qersu in a letter of the king’s exorcist, Adad-shumu-u´ur, and Urad-Ea, the galmā¶u of the Moon god (of Harran) and of the king.13 They are informing the ‘farmer’ (Esarhaddon’s title during the appointment of a substitute king period) about the expiatory rites they are to perform for his sake (81–24, 58 = ABL 361 = LAS 167 = SAA 10, 212obv.:9–14, rev.:1–13 = Parpola 1993:169). Date 17 of the third month 669 BCE (Parpola ibid.). dull[ī]ni ūma ina nu[batti] ibašši anāku ša ¶aliqti šīri Urad-Ea [š]a [p]ān Enlil neppaš ina qersi nellak dullu ša bēt [r]i[mki] it[tima]li ētapaš maqalūtu aq¢ulu takpirtu nussētiq ana kalê ša annāka āšipu issešu apteqid ¢ēmu assakanšu muk 6 ūmē šam¶ir takpirtu dāt annê tušettaqa ‘We have rites to perform to[night]: I shall perform one against “Loss of Flesh,” and Urad-Ea another before Enlil. We shall go to the qersu. Yesterday I performed the ritual (dullu) of bēt [r]i[mki]; I made a burnt-offering and we executed a purification ritual. I have appointed an exorcist for the chanter who is here, and gave him the following orders: “For six days do likewise, performing the purification ritual (takpirtu) after this (fashion).” ’

This letter connects qersu specifically with purification. Two more letters are written to the ‘farmer’ by the same Adad-shumu-u´ur and involve a qersu, a reed hut (kikkisu)14 and a barber (examples 8 and 9). The first letter prescribes that the ‘farmer’ performs purification rites including shaving and nail cutting on the 13th or 15th of Tammuz; the second instructs doing the same with his sons. Both letters date from the 12th of the third month of 669 BCE (Parpola 1993:168). 8) K 568 = ABL 4 = LAS 137 = SAA 10, 210obv.:6–14, rev.:1–8 = Parpola 1993:168: ikkāru ana qers[i] [ill]ak ina libbi kikkisi [err]ab uššab [issu q]ersi [is]a¶¶ura [x]x illaka gallābu [0] errab [´]uprī [ša] ikassapūni [ina] la¶anni [i]šakkunū [i]kannukū [ina m]i´ri nukurti [u]bbulū ‘[the “far]mer” goes to the qersu, [ent]ers the reed hut, sits down, (then) returns [from] the qersu and goes […]. A barber enters. The nails [which] he cuts are put into a bottle (which) is sealed and brought [to] the border of the enemy country.’

13

Parpola 1971:43–44. CAD K 352b also translates as a ‘reed wall’ or ‘reed fence’ regarding our examples 8 and 9. Is it a reed fence of the qersu, the wooden prototype (GIŠmurudû) of which is mentioned by M.6873. 14

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9) K 113 = ABL 183 = LAS 138 = SAA 10, 211obv.:6–11, rev.:1–2 = Parpola 1993:168: kīma ina qersi ittalkū ina libbi kikkisi ētarbū issu ammāka isa¶¶urūni gallābu errab ‘After they have gone to the qersu and entered the reed hut/entered the reed fence?, they return from there, and the barber enters.’

In a letter (SAA 10, 209 = Parpola 1993:167rev.:1–6) dated to the 9th of the third month of 669 BCE Adad-shumu-uṣur and Marduk-shakinshumi instruct the king about the time when a young girl (MĺGURUŠTUR = batūssu) should enter before the king. Soon after that he is to be shaved.15 On the night (MI = GE6) of the 11th day dullu-rituals are to be performed. The date of shaving and cutting the nails preceded by sitting in the qersu is set for the 13th in the letter quoted above dating from 12th. This constellation of rites was correlated by Mayer (1988:145)16 with a namburbi-ritual he published (1905-4-9, 89 = BM 98583). There the king’s body is shaved, and the hair is sent to the border of the foreign land. The action that follows is a ritual intercourse. On the 9th day the rites’ performer has to bring a young girl (MĺGURUŠTUR = batūssu) to the king, who is to have an intercourse with her, after which she is sent to the border of Assyria with a foreign land as is the shaved hair. The king should bathe in juniper water for three days and say a prayer to Marduk at night (Mayer 1988:147obv.:1–9). Sacrifices follow. After the king and his men are purified, prayers are said, divination is performed on a sheep and divination is performed concerning the enlarging, literally ‘widening’ of the land (ruppiš mātka; Mayer 1988:147–148obv.:10–18, rev.:1–18).17 An identical set of purification rites18 performed in the last year of Esarhaddon during the period of the substitute king can be reconstructed from the letters quoted above (SAA 10, 209–212),19 although their order is different from that of BM 98583: intercourse, dullu at night, sitting 15

ina mu¶¶i batūssi ša bēlī iqbûni mā mīnu simunu lū tēruba nēmel ¶āripāni [šūt]ūni ⅔ bēri ūmu lišqia ¶arammēma lū tērub basi iddāti bēlī gallābūssu lēpuš mūšu ša ūmi 11KÁM ina nubatti dullu. 16 The tablet is Neo-Assyrian, but cannot be dated more exactly. 17 Remarkably, this expression is found both in the Middle Assyrian Coronation Ritual (Müller 1937:12, 34f.) and in Ashurbanipal’s Coronation Hymn (Livingstone 1989:11 = LKA 31:17). 18 See also Maul 1994:78 on this matter. 19 SAA 10, 212 = 6 here; SAA 10, 210 = 7 here; SAA 10, 211 = 8 here. 



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in a reed hut, or behind a reed fence inside the qersu; shaving and nail cutting. The ritual ablutions are to be done not by the king himself, but by his exorcist and his ‘chief singer’ of the Moon god (SAA 10, 212:5–6). The purpose here is not purification before divination, but annihilating the evil impact of lunar eclipse (Parpola 1971:57). All those rites are connected with the qersu. What the king does while sitting in the qersu is not indicated. This might be the location where intercourse took place since it is followed by shaving as the letter concerning that matter instructs (SAA 10, 209 = Parpola 1993, 167rev.:1–6). The purification of my example 7 and the cycle of examples 8–9 and SAA 10, 209 can be connected to the bēt rimki ritual because of the number of details. The bēt rimki ritual, written down at the time of Ashurbanipal, prescribes to the exorcist and the other participant of the rite (BBR II 26 iii 22–24): mašmašu ana ´ēri u´´âma bēt rimki ippuš ana dEa dŠamaš u dAsalluhi urigallu ša šarri ina libbi tukān ‘The exorcist goes to the field; (after he) made a purification house for Ea, Šamaš and Asalluhi, you will install the divine standards20 of the king inside it.’

Then follow the offerings. This line drove Læssøe (1955:7) to the conclusion that “bēt rimki was no permanent structure, but a building—quite possibly made from perishable material such as straw or rush—erected for the occasion, whenever a ritual bath was to be performed.” Indeed a reed hut (šutuk/ina šutukki bēt rimki) was a part of the purification house (Reiner 1958:61a, šurpu-series, commentary on tablet IX 87) where the namburbi-rites were performed. It also occurs in another kind of purification as well—the mīs pî. A reed hut or fence, though called kikkisu is a part of the qersu, when purification of the substitute king’s period is held in it (two next examples; K 568 = ABL 4 = LAS 137 and K 113 = ABL 183 = LAS 138). Both the qersu and bēt rimki are removable and free-standing. In addition, the divine standards21 connected with the qersu in VAT 10464, cited above, are almost always shown together with the baldachin 20

Pongratz-Leisten 1992:324 suggest giurigallu here as a ‘Stangen aus Rohr’ which constructed ’eine Art Rohrhütte oder magischen Kreis.’ 21 Mentioned in BBR II 26 v 49 again in broken context, after the king’s ritual ablution, followed by sacrifices.

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structure, which I will argue is a representation of the qersu (see below). Here they play a part in the bēt rimki ritual, the ritual, which was performed before going to the qersu (SAA 10, 212obv.:9–14, rev.:1–13), when it served as a substitute for the purification house (bēt rimki) itself. Takpirtu which, according to SAA 10, 212obv.:9–14, rev.:1–13, is associated with the qersu and bēt rimki, was performed for the king during the bēt rimki ritual at least thrice (BBR II 26 i 19; ii 2–3; v 34–35). In both cases the king drove outside through the palace gates, and purification of the palace with a scapegoat (maš¶ulduppu) and other means followed. 10) The last letter mentioning the qersu is addressed to Ashurbanipal. The astrologer Nabû-ahhe-eriba describes reading the reports of the lunar eclipse to Esarhaddon inside the qersu on the river bank (81-2-4, 98 = ABL 1096 = LAS 60, date 18 of the first month 667 BCE): ina mu¶¶i nāri ummânu ša abušu ša ina mu¶¶i šarri bēlija udaššunni ina qersi ina pān šarri issassi ‘… a scholar, whom the father of the king, my lord knew, used to read them to the king in a qersu on the river bank.’ GIŠ

The mention of the lunar eclipse connects it again with the ritual of the substitute king and also states that the reports of the eclipse were read to the king inside the qersu. Parpola (1983:65) notes that “on the bank of the river” is “a location convenient for washing away the pollution caused by the eclipse,” which brings us back to the ablutions performed in the namburbi-ritual after the intercourse (Mayer 1988, 147obv.: 8). So, of the six letters mentioning the qersu four are related to the substitute king ritual and three of them are written one after another (SAA 10, 210–211 on the 12th of the third month of 669 and SAA 10, 212 on the 17th of the third month 669).22 During the substitute king’s ritual the king was forbidden to leave the palace area (Parpola 1971:64). Thus the qersu, at least in the times of Esarhaddon and Ashurbanipal, his son, was a free-standing structure within the precinct of the royal residence.

22

See note 133 for the numbering in the present discussion. Marduk-shakinshumi’s letter (SAA 10, 264; 4 here) concerning the skulls could be also related to the substitute king ritual, since its author was one of the experts on it and its main initiator in 671–670 BCE (Parpola 1971:60; PNA 723).

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Another text of a ritual nature should be added to the examples cited by Deller and CAD Q.23 As in the rest of the ritual texts, here too sacrifices are made inside the qersu. 11) The large baked tablet (ND 1120) derives from Kalhu. It was “found in the debris thrown out beyond the S. W. corner of the ‘S. E. Palace,’ i. e. c. 10 m. E. of the room VIII of the Burnt Palace” (Wiseman 1952:65). The text dated to 22 àebet (X), 9th year of Sargon II (714 BCE, Ishtarduri the eponym), is said to be “an excerpt from an older tablet” (van Driel 1969:198)!24 According to van Driel (ibid.) it is not “a ritual in the usual sense of the word,” but “seems to be a report concerning ceremonies apparently connected with putting into use certain cultic implements,” among them the qersu. Nevertheless, Wiseman (ibid.) describes it as a “part of a royal ritual text.” Thus the qersu appears here in cultic usage again (after Deller 1981:65): 6. […] ūm 21KÁM mdNabû-šallim-šunu ¢upšar šarri ana Libbi-āli ittalka 7.] x qersē dannūte issu bēt šakin māti na´ûni ina mu¶¶i maškitti itta¶ar/ itta¶´ū! ‘On the 21st day Nabu-shallim-shunu, the king’s scribe, went to the city of Ashur. The strong qersus25 brought from the house of šakin māti he received in front of the offering table/… he strong qersus26 brought from the house of šakin māti; in front of the offering table they fight one with another (sacrifice is following).’

Further on, ll. 19 and 22, ‘the stable of Ninurta’ (bēt ubūsāte ša dNinurta) is mentioned. An adoration of the royal image takes place in bēt abūsāte (the god is not named there explicitly, but is probably Adad) in the course of the akītu-ritual (May 2007:107–108, 215–236; VAT 10464obv. i 6–12). Ninurta, as well as Adad, is probably one of the divine symbols (Pongratz-Leisten 1992:338–339) that were revered mounted on a chariot (Bleibtreu 1992:353, 356, pls. 64a, b; 65a, b).

23

CAD quotes it under the entry qirsu B (a wooden object), Q 270a. This is the earliest Neo-Assyrian text mentioning the qersu in ritual context. The fact, that it is said to be copied from the “earlier tablet” points to the existence of the qersu before the Assyrian Sargonids. The original might derive from the times of Ashurnasirpal II and Shalmaneser III, where the representations of the baldachin structures, discussed below, belong. It might date even earlier, through the MA into OA period, when the qersu is mentioned for the first time in the kispum ritual from Mari. 25 The poles, which hold the construction? 26 The poles, which hold the construction? 24

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The attribution of the text to the royal rituals is based not only on the type of the tablet, but on the content, since the plan of the ritual was reported to the king (van Driel 1969, 200obv.:5) and on the identity of its author, Nabu-shallim-shunu. The last one was a well-known royal scribe and author of Sargon II’s “Letter to Ashur” (PNA 870b). He is the one who together with the city scribe Zazâ performs the ritual for the king here. This ritual as well as the field war ritual ends with the ritual meal (naptunu; Deller 1992:342–343; K.10209:45), which in this case is complemented by sacrifice, incense burning and libation, and finally with throwing some part of the sacrifice into the river (van Driel 1969, 202rev.:11; Menzel 1981 T 97). Besides its connection to bēt abūsāte this ritual shows a close resemblance to the akītu-ritual (see above VAT 10464rev. vi 1–14 and May 2007:215–236) in a number of aspects. In the akītu a letter coming to Libbi-āli? is placed inside the qersu, a naptunu is served there and sacrifices are performed. Earlier in the akītu-ritual offerings are thrown into the spring (ēnu; KAR 215obv.:10–11). Van Driel (ibid. 205) suggested that the present text (ND 1120; 10 here) is a letter sent to Sargon II from the city of Ashur and is actually a report about the ritual performed (ibid. 200obv.:5). Is this letter of the kind that is installed in the qersu in VAT 10464rev. vi 1–14, probably a letter to a god, as suggested by Deller (Deller 1987:235)? The above quoted texts show that the qersu was: – A free-standing removable structure, remote from regular place of activities of the king and his cultic personnel (contra Parpola 1983:65–66), so special permission was necessary to go there (SAA 10, 176). In the course of the substitute king's ritual it must be located within the palace precinct since it was visited by the king during this period. – A structure connected with purification and apotropaic rites of various kinds, especially namburbi, probably as a part of bēt rimki, but they are not said explicitly to take place inside the qersu itself. Worth pointing out is that a sacrifice is made in the course of the bēt rimki ritual (so SAA 10, 212 = 6 here) in front of the urigallu (VAT 10464rev. vi = 2 here). The divine standards, as we saw from the written evidence and, as will be shown, follows more persistently from the visual one (figs. 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8? and Barnett–Falkner 1962, pl. LX?), are also connected to the qersu. – Among the purification rituals connected with the qersu, sexual intercourse should be specially noted. – Other kinds of rituals take place inside the qersu, including sacrifices and royal or divine meal (naptunu) (Parpola 1983:66).

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– There was a reed hut (šuttuk bēt rimki?, kikkisu) inside the qersu or a reed fence, surrounding it.

Are there indeed two different meanings—‘a sacred area’ and ‘a wooden vehicle or cart’—designated by the same word qersu, as CAD Q and Parpola suggest, and do they differ from the object described by this word in Mari? Actually, the “cultic” and “profane” usages of qersu share common features: the word appears only in Neo-Assyrian, it is written with or without the determinative GIŠ and all eight examples of non-cultic context for qersu appear in royal documents, related to the king or his staff again. Among them, four are connected with asses (or donkey/horse colts?), which connection was the basis of Parpola’s (1983:66, n. 124) and Saggs’ (1956:44) conclusions, though asses are never said to be harnessed to a qersu. They are: 12–13) ND 2451 (Postgate 1974:376–379 and Parker 1961:28–30). Small tablet (12 × 5.5 cm) which is, according to Postgate (ibid. 379), ‘probably a six-monthly account of the issues and receipts “of the beasts of burden and carts”.’ The tribute of 707 BCE (limmu of Sha-Ashurdubbu) is mentioned (rev.:6), so the text was written close to this date. Most of the tablet contains a list of courtiers (obv.:13–28; rev.:1–12), who are probably paying their tax of animals to the palace (Parker 1961:29). Obv.:4 120 emārē(ANŠEMEŠ) ša qersi ina libbi 1 qapūti ‘120 asses of the qersu in one corral’; Obv.:13 18 mētūte ša qersi ‘18 dead (asses) of the qersu.’

Parker in her comments (ibid.) to the text refers to the qersu as “some kind of shrine” and notes that BE.MEŠ in obv. 13 does not certainly relate to donkeys. Postgate, on the contrary, suggests reading qir-su as bis-su = biltu ‘load, pack’ and translates ANŠE.MEŠ ša bissi as ‘pack asses.’ Unfortunately the context here is far too laconic to permit any solution. 14) ND 2643 (Saggs 1956:41–42, Pl. IX, No. 25 = Saggs 2001:282– 28327).

27 In his revised edition of the Nimrud Letters Saggs translates qersu as ‘wagon’ with reference to CAD Q qirsu B, but notes (ibid. 283), that it might be connected to the West Semitic kussû.

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This is an undated letter addressed to the king by a certain Aššūr-mātka-tēra, official of Sargon II, who is organizing the deportation of a group of Arameans (PNA 194). It ends in the following words: Rev.:20–24 issu ma´en emārēja/mūrēja(ANŠE.NITÁMEŠ-ia) ibaššûni GIŠqersijama ana ¶arrāni lamtu¶ ‘when I have colts, I will transport my qersu on the way.’28

15) Rm 619 = ADD 1036 = SAA 11, 36 (Fales–Postgate 1995:32ff.). This tablet from Nineveh is a register of the tribute distribution to palace personnel, dated to the time of Sargon II or Sennacherib. Obv. ii 11–12 2 emārēja/mūrēja (ANŠE.NITÁ) GIŠqersi ša-pān-ekalli ‘two colts of the qersu for the palace supervisor.’29

16) K.8835 + K.10335 = ADD 1039 = SAA 7, 120 (Fales–Postgate 1992:131–132). The text, also from Nineveh and dated perhaps to the time of Sargon II (Fales–Postgate 1992:xxix), is probably a list of clothes and shoes: Obv. ii 1–3 1 TÚGpa-x[x x] bēt ra[m]ā!ki ša qersi ‘1 bathroom pa-x[x x]-cloth of the qersu’ or ‘1 pa-x[x x]-cloth of the bathroom of the qersu.’

The passage (15 here) is too laconic and damaged to understand its precise meaning, but note the connection of the qersu to the ritual bathing ceremonies (dullu ša bēt rimki) in the letter of Adad-shumi-u´ur and Urad-Ea (SAA 10, 212) and ablutions in the namburbi-ritual for the substitute king period discussed above.

28

Postgate 1989:8: ‘I have no donkeys, but as soon as I do have some, I shall load up for the journey’; CAD M1 331a–332b: ‘to the extent that (?) horses will be available’; ibid. 404a: ‘I will bring my qersu’s on the way’; CAD Q 269b: ‘as soon as I have donkeys, I will take my q.-s on the road.’ It should be noted here that no plural is indicated for the qersu here and it is written with GIŠ determinative. The choice of the verb is remarkable as well, and points towards the transportation of goods and materials, but not of the vehicles. Note also that the writing ANŠE.NITÁ = mūru ‘foal’ (CAD M2 229a, 230a) may not necessarily indicate donkeys in connection with the qersu, but definitely indicates male beasts. See also Borger 2003: 318 (sign 353, for ANŠE.NITÁ = imēru). 29 For ANŠE.NITÁ see n. 140. Fales–Postgate (1995:33) translate ‘donkeys,’ but leave qersu without a translation.

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17) K.554 = ABL 100 = SAA 1, 47 (Parpola 1987:46–46). àab-šar-Aššur, the treasurer, writes to Sargon on the matter of crossing the flooding river and finding a place for a camp. To do this he goes to the qersu: Rev.:4–6 annaka mu? su x x x GIŠqersi attalak ātamar! damiq adanniš ‘here … I went to the qersu (Parpola 1987:47: “by the cart”), I looked, it is very good.’

There is no indication that qersu is a cart here, but again as in the field war ritual (Deller 1992:342–343; K.10209:44) it is connected with a military camp (madāktu). The following two passages shed some light upon the construction and the environment of the qersu. 18) ND 2665 is a letter found at Kalhu, written to the king (Sargon II ) by an official whose name is broken away. He quotes the letter which came to him from the king and says as follows: ?

GIŠ

qersi ša GIŠdun30 x ¶i x x ‘the qersu of a bed’ (reading and interpreting of the rest of the line and the next line is extremely uncertain, see Saggs 1956:44).

Dunnu is a kind of bed (CAD D 185b–186a) though Saggs (ibid.) tries to interpret it here as ‘sleeping compartment,’ which he suggests to be a part of chariot, since he assumes that qersu is a cart. 19) Finally a letter to Sargon II from Ashur-alik-pani, the king’s military official on the Assyrian northern frontier, which in SAA 5, 152 is defined as “Request for New Carts,” is actually a “Request for New Qersus”; K.1031 + K.1251 = ABL 784 = SAA 5, 152rev.:6–11 (Lanfranchi–Parpola 1990:115–116): GIŠ

qersēja pāniūte ibašši lā damqu šaniūte eššūte ú-TAR-si lā gammurū ina mu¶¶i Adad-ibni šarru bēlija lišpura GIŠqersē damqāte ša eliš kitê   šapliš tunimme issēniš l[išpur] ū [ni] ‘My previous GIŠqersus were not good and I have …ed new ones, but they are not ready. May the king, my lord, write to Adad-ibni, that they should [send me] good GIŠqersus, (furnished) with linen abo[ve] and with tunimmu leather below.’

Among various representations of carts in the art of the Assyrian Sargonids no vehicle with an upper part made of cloth is attested. It is also 30

See Saggs 2001:286, n. 8 for the reading.

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hard to believe that a cart might need a leather bottom. This description better matches a kind of tent. Thus we can assume that: – The qersu is in some way connected with donkeys or colts (which led to a suggestion, that it is a cart), but actually the donkey slaughtering takes place inside the qersu during the kispu-ritual already in Mari (see above, M.12803). – The qersu is also connected with a bed; probably there was a bed inside it? – The qersu had a linen (or other kind of cloth) top and a leather bottom, though wood was also involved in its construction.

Pictorial representation in Neo-Assyrian art and its later developments The baldachin structures The baldachin structures discussed here are constructions resting on pillars which constitute a frame supporting them, and are not to be confused with the bow or arched baldachins (May 2007:54–57). These baldachin structures would be called today pergolas, arbours or canopies.31 To the best of my knowledge they appear for the first time on the White Obelisk, a monument of disputable date,32 the pictorial representations of which display many archaic features (Reade 1975). The White Obelisk On the reliefs of the White Obelisk baldachin structures are represented three times in different situations. Unfortunately the scale of the depiction does not permit us to recognize many details. The second register, sides A–C (fig. 9) The king, marked by his crown, and his retinue are standing in front of a city designated by gates flanked with towers. Nine arches, probably

31

If parokhet is a canopy and not a veil (Hurowitz 1995:144–146), the Assyrian baldachin structures looked very much like the Tabernacle. 32 It is dated by reign of Ashurnasirpal I or Ashurnasirpal II; in either case it is the earliest or one of the earliest monuments (together with other representations Ashurnasirpal II) depicting the baldachin structure. Since the White Obelisk is dated to Middle Assyrian period on the grounds of analysis of its relief (Reade 1975; Pittman 1996) and to the time of Ashurnasirpal II basing on the philological and linguistic data of the text, I would suggest to check the possibility of the secondary use of the Middle Assyrian monument by the scribes of Ashurnasirpal II.

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formed by vegetation,33 coupled and resting on pillars provide them with shelter. The king is attended by a eunuch in a fez with a whisk. A person standing in front of him also seems to be wearing a crown (a crown prince?). He is followed by two pairs of men in fezzes. In the first pair the front figure seems to hold a cup. The second is attended by a smaller figure with a cup. Traces of one more person can be distinguished under the last arch. The arches are flanked by schematically depicted trees. Behind the courtiers stands a table with two vessels. An interesting feature is that the whole composition stands upon a water stream. It is more probable that a libation, not a symposion, is represented here, since the acting persons are standing, and not sitting as in the banquet scenes. The third register, sides A–C (fig. 10) After the scene of sacrifice (May 2007:122–124) the king appears under a baldachin structure sitting on a throne with a stool for legs (side B). Though the pillars are missing in the representation, it is not a bowed arch,34 but an arbour. In front of the king stands a table with an attendant in front of it. Next to this group sits a courtier at another table and an attendant stands waiting upon him facing each other. Behind the king appear two pairs of courtiers standing by the tables. Above them are two pairs of individuals sitting face to face. This banqueting scene is a part of a sacrificial ceremony marked with an epigraph: ‘The bēt nat¶i of Nineveh: I perform the wine offerings of the temple of the exalted goddess,’ and represents a ritual meal, a naptunu (ibid. 199). The fourth register, sides D–C (fig. 11) The king with a staff stands under a baldachin (side D, the pillars again are not shown). Behind him appear a bareheaded eunuch with a whisk and a bearded courtier in a fez. Two beaded persons in fezzes with raised right hands stand in front of the king in row one after another. They are followed by a pair in fezzes (still side D). Booty or tribute are brought to the king and shown already outside the baldachin (sides A–C).

33 Bulges in a shape of a grape bunches terminate the short ends of the arches, when their long external parts, which reach the ground, are fashioned by a wavy stuff with bulges, reminding a liana or a vine rod. Unfortunately the miniature representation does not permit to recognize the details with certainty. 34 Compare with the bowed arches of Ashurnasirpal’s Balawat Gates (Barnett 1973, BM.126458) and Bands IIIb and IVb (King 1915, pl. XIV and pl. XX respectively).

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I believe that all three depictions designate the celebration of a triumph in different forms: a libation, a sacrifice with ceremonial meal and bringing tribute before the king (May 2007:182–328). Ashurnasirpal II A palace relief A columned baldachin structure (fig. 2) is probably not unique in the art of Ashurnasirpal II, but it is represented once only in the monumental media of the palace reliefs in the entire corpus of Neo-Assyrian art. The largest, and thus the most detailed representation of this object at our disposal, appears in the upper register of the relief of the throne room (Meuszyński 1981, pl. 2, B-7) as a part of the depiction of the field triumph ritual (May 2006:190–196). The structure is roofed by a baldachin decorated all over by hexagons. Pomegranates and cones are hanging down from its edge. The two front columns of the structure are crowned by two caprides surmounted upon fleur de lys made of two horns and triangle in between them. The back pillar terminates with a fleur de lys made of two horns and a scaled cone between them. Those toppings rest upon triple bands or pillows. The pillars are adorned with an arrow-like geometric pattern pointing upward. It is hard to understand whether a double chamber construction is depicted here or whether it is an attempt to represent a three-dimensional object by means of two-dimensional media. A modern spectator would certainly comprehend it as such, but to the best of my knowledge architectural constructions are always shown flat in the Mesopotamian pictorial tradition: either as elevations, or as sections or views from above. Another example of a double baldachin structure is found on the Balawat gates of Shalmaneser III (Band IVb, King 1915, pl. XIX). This might be evidence of further parallels between the baldachin structure/qersu and the Priestly Tabernacle, which was divided into two parts (Ex. 26:33).35 Horses not harnessed, are depicted in front of the structure drinking from a trough. A soldier is grooming the horse by cleaning it inside the structure. A eunuch with a towel and a stick? is standing at the entrance of this structure. Behind the structure a fortified Assyrian camp is depicted, where a festive meal (naptunu) is prepared.

35

Detailed comparison of the Priestly Tabernacle and the baldachin structure/ qersu will be carried out the author in a separate article.

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Shalmaneser III The Balawat Gates (between 848–844 BCE; Yamada 2000:51) The baldachin structures are depicted in almost every register of each band of the Balawat Gates, most often inside the camp and with a eunuch next to it or inside it. Following is the list with short descriptions of those structures. Ia. Inside the camp, in its upper register with a eunuch next to it behind; fleur de lys crown the pillars. Something hangs down the baldachin’s edge (King 1915, pl. VI). Ib. Inside the camp together with a horse and tent, occupies two registers of the camp; fleur de lys crown the pillars (King 1915, pl. I). IIIa. Inside the camp, in its upper register, a eunuch and a horse in front of it; fleur de lys crown the pillars (King 1915, pl. XVIII). IIIb. Inside the camp; a eunuch in front of it; knobs are laying upon two petals, which crown the pillars. Doors shut (King 1915, pl. XIII). IVa (fig. 3). Appears in the middle of the strip inside a rectangular fortified camp; the king with a mace is seated on a stool with a pillow in front of a baldachin structure turning to the right. One eunuch behind him holds a parasol, another in front of the king, a whisk and towel. It cannot be recognized whether the king and the eunuch in front of him hold anything in their hands. Fleur de lys crown the pillars standing on round bases. The camp is approached from behind by four beardless and four bearded courtiers in long garments, with swords and quivers. Four bearded personages wear pointed helmets. The fifth, instead of carrying quiver, holds the reins of a horse harnessed to the royal chariot. Behind the royal chariot two other chariots with the divine symbols arrive. This standard triad of ceremonial battle wagons is followed here by the fourth, driven by a shaved person in a tall pointed hat, obviously a priest. This detail emphasizes the cultic character of the depicted ceremony.36 IVb. Inside the camp, in its upper register; double, as on fig. 2. The rear part of the structure is lower than the front one; eunuchs stand in front of it and inside its front chamber. Fleur de lys crown the pillars of both. The roof is flat (King 1915, pl. XIX).

36

The same four chariots are shown on the lower register (Band IVb, King 1915, pl. XIX–XX) of this band, and the priest is driving in the fourth. Interestingly enough, they are not approaching a baldachin structure, but an arched baldachin under which the king is undergoing exactly the same ceremony as in the upper register (IVa).

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Band V depicts the campaign to Northern Syria continued from Band IV (Year 2 = 857 BCE, Year 3 = 856 BCE and Year 6 = 853 BCE, King 1915, pls. XXV–XXX) and the tribute of Unqi/Patin. Va. Appears twice: (1) in the middle of the strip—broken; (2) inside the camp in its lower register; fleur de lys crown the pillars. Additional decoration, probably in the form of a human torso, crowns the top of the structure. Two flanking figures turn towards it. Vb. Appears twice: (1) in the middle of the strip; (2) inside the camp. In the middle of the strip (fig. 4) stands the king, turning to the left and holding a reversed bow in the left hand and arrows in the right?. Behind him are three eunuchs with towels. The first one holds a whisk, two more quivers and bows. Behind them is a baldachin structure with a meal served upon a table and a wine? pot on a tripod?. They look exactly like offering tables and libation receptacles in sacrificial scenes. Behind the structure are a eunuch with a towel, a bow and a quiver and a bearded man with mace, quiver and sword leading the royal chariot, which is followed by two chariots with divine standards advancing from a rectangular camp. The chariots are followed by four bearded men (soldiers?), two in long and two in short garments carrying maces, bows and quivers. In front of the king stands a bearded official (crown prince?) with raised hand followed by three eunuchs and two bearded men all with swords performing the Hittite/Aramaic gesture of adoration.37 After them a eunuch with towel and mace turning to the left meets another eunuch with sword and stick, who introduces the Syrian prince and his daughter, represented by figures smaller than those of Assyrians. They are followed by the tribute. The baldachin structure in this representation with a meal being served inside it has fleur de lys, crowning the pillars. Pomegranates are hanging down the baldachin edge. The top is adorned with a knob. Inside the camp another baldachin structure of this type with a decorated baldachin is depicted: fleur de lys crowns the pillars; the festoon? decorates the material of the baldachin. Additional decoration crowns the top. Soldiers in helmets are preparing a meal? around and below it. On band VI (figs. 5–6) the depiction of the campaign to Northern Syria continues (King 1915, pls. XXXI–XXXVI).

37

Mayer-Opificius 1995:335–336.

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VIa–b. The baldachin structure is identical in both registers. In this band’s lower register (fig. 6, almost identical to the upper)38 in the middle of the strip the king with a reversed bow and arrows turns to the left. He is followed by two eunuchs: one with a whisk and a towel, another with a bow, a quiver and a mace. Behind them is a baldachin structure with a loaded table and a vessel on tripod? under it. A eunuch with a whisk and sword stands under the baldachin next to the table. After him two bearded soldiers, one holding a mace, the other a quiver lead the royal chariot. Then appear two chariots with the divine standards. In front of the first are two bearded soldiers in long garments. One with a bow and quiver holds a long stick, probably a divine standard, while the other has a quiver and a sword. Behind the row of chariots appear six soldiers with maces, bows and quivers advancing over a stream from a rectangular camp (empty). In front of the king stands a row of eight officials: three bearded—the first of them with a sword; a crown prince (marked by a head band?; Reade 1972:93); and four eunuchs? (one with broken lower part of the face). One of the eunuchs has folded hands. Then a eunuch with a mace, a towel and a sword turns to the left meeting another eunuch, who introduces the tributaries with their right hands in the Hittite adoration gesture. The first small figure is probably that of the daughter of Sangara, king of Carchemish, raising her hand in an adoration gesture as well. The baldachin structure within which the festive meal is served has pillars with round bases decorated with two petals. A ring with four petals arranged symmetrically towards horizontal and vertical axes appears in the middle of each pillar. They are crowned with a cone and a ring with four petals. The edge of the baldachin is decorated by pomegranates. The important thing is that from among numerous representations of baldachin structures on the Balawat Gates the meal is served inside them only, if the tribute includes a daughter of the local ruler (Yamada 2000:255). VIIb. Appears twice: (1) in the middle of the strip—fleur de lys? crown the pillars. The edge of the baldachin is decorated with tassels; the king stands in front of it with his retinue in front and behind him (King 1915, pl. XLI); (2) inside the camp in its upper register, a eunuch with a bow stands, behind it; fleur de lys crown the pillars (King 1915, pl. XLII). IXa and b. Three baldachin structures: two in lower (fig. 7 and King 1915, pl. LIII) and one in upper (King 1915, pl. LI) registers; on each— 38

The upper register does not show the tributary king’s daughter, but the tribute bearers only.

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pillars on rounded bases with two petals, crowned with fleur de lys with two petals mirrored downwards; baldachin with fringes as on the throne base from Calah. The structure in the upper register (King 1915, pl. LI) is inside the camp, in its upper register; a eunuch stands inside it, a bearded man behind. In the lower register (fig. 7) the structure is in the middle of the strip with the king seated upon a pillowed stool inside it. The stool and the pillow under his legs are put upon the brick podium, greatly resembling that of the throne of Shamash on the Sippar tablet (Orthmann et al. 1975, pl. 248). The bow is on his lap, and arrows are in his right hand. One eunuch with a mace and a round decorated shield stands behind him under a baldachin, the second with a sword, a bow, a quiver and a mace outside it and the third with a sword, towel and whisk—in front. Second time it appears inside the camp (King 1915, pl. LIII) in its upper register, a eunuch stands inside it, another behind, in front of it is a bearded individual. XIIa (King 1915, pl. LXXI). Inside the camp, a eunuch inside it, the baldachin itself broken, but its terminals protrude above the pillars, and are probably figurative. XIIb (King 1915, pl. LXIX). Inside the camp in its upper register, a eunuch inside it; the structure is perfectly rectangular with a massive lintel. Pillars on conical bases are crowned with exaggerated double petals?. XIIIb (King 1915, pl. LXXII). Free standing, a eunuch inside it. Pillars on conical bases are crowned with fleur de lys. The baldachin is fluted. The representations of the Balawat Gates above discussed show that the baldachin structure is strongly connected with the divine symbols and with the military camp. Of twenty depictions of the camp the baldachin structure appears on the Balawat Gates on thirteen,39 which suggests that this structure was important as a symbolic part of the military camp. On all the representations on the Balawat Gates the chariots with divine symbols on the poles are shown in the immediate proximity to the baldachin structure. They are either advancing from this structure depicted at the band’s edge inside the camp towards the middle of the strip, or approaching it, when the baldachin is depicted free-standing in the centre of a band. When two structures appear in the same register, the chariots with the symbols move from the one at the edge inside the camp toward the free standing one in the middle. There are only two exceptions to 39

In four of seven cases where the baldachin structure is missing on the camp depiction, the camps are shown empty, with no details at all.

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this rule. The first one is band Ia—the divine symbols are dismounted and adored together with a royal stele (fig. 12) at one end of the register; the baldachin inside the camp is depicted at the other end of this band. The other is band XIIIb, where only the royal chariot is shown and the two chariots with the symbols are missing. On the relief of Ashurnasirpal II chariots with poles approach the baldachin structure standing by the camp, when returning from the battle in triumph. An additional example of the baldachin structure is the one under which Shalmaneser III of Assyria and Marduk-zakir-shumi of Babylon appear shaking hands (Orthmann et al. 1975, pl. 208). Here its pillars are crowned with knobs and the baldachin itself is decorated with a fish spine pattern and hanging festoons. More 9th c. BCE depictions of a baldachin structure A Glazed Brick A glazed brick dated to the 9th c. BCE and sometimes attributed to the reign of Ashurnasirpal II (fig. 13) shows the king with a cup above the reversed bow under a baldachin structure flanked by two eunuchs. The one in front has a towel, and probably a dipper, the other behind the king carries a bow and a quiver. A soldier with a mace appears the last one outside the structure. Cones and pomegranates are hanging down its edge as on the depiction of this structure in Ashurnasirpal II’s field war ritual (fig. 2). An Ivory Strip The principal panel (fig. 14) of the ivory inlay of furniture strips, “found scattered along the front and sides of the royal dais in the throne room” (Mallowan 1966 I 248) represents the king receiving tribute. The king with a cup in his right hand raised above an axe in his left is attended by two eunuchs. The first one holding a towel and a fan stands opposite him; the second one with a parasol appears behind him accompanied by a beardless bearer of a quiver, bow and mace. This group is followed by a royal chariot led and driven by bearded persons. Finally, behind the chariot at the left-most end of the strip, a baldachin structure is depicted. Its two plain pillars are crowned with massive, scaled cones resting on two small petals, one at each side of a cone. The top of the baldachin is adorned with a knob, and triple tassels are hanging from its edge. A eunuch with a quiver, bow and mace stands under the baldachin.

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This strip, performed in Assyrian style, is dated to the 9th c. BCE and might belong to Ashurnasirpal II as well as to Shalmaneser III (Mallowan–Davies 1970:30). As follows from these examples, the baldachin structure is characteristic of the environment on the march of military campaigns and camps. In Neo-Assyrian monumental art it is always connected with the king, and often a ritual is taking place inside it or in its immediate proximity, as in the field war ritual depiction of Ashurnasirpal II (fig. 2) and bands IVa (fig. 3) and b (King 1915, pl. XIX–XX), Vb (fig. 4), VIb (fig. 6) and IXb (fig. 7) of the Balawat Gates. At this point it is appropriate to consider of purification rituals inside or next to the pergola/baldachin structure of bands IVa40 and IXb of the Balawat gates, the 9th century ivory panel and the glazed brick (figs. 3, 7, 13, 14), where the sitting or standing king appears flanked by two eunuchs. The image of the king with a bow and arrows flanked by two winged deities purifying him with mullilu-sprinkler? and banduddû-bucket, interchanging with image of the king with a bowl flanked by two eunuchs, is well known from rooms G and N in the east suite of the North-West Palace of Ashurnasirpal II at Kalhu (Curtis–Reade 1995, No. 248; Russell 1998, fig. 14). The east suite is particularly associated with purification and probably with the bēt rimki rite (Russell 1998:671–697). Indeed in the bēt rimki ritual we find the instruction to purify the king from right and from left, as the depictions in question show (BBR II 26 v 39–40): šina mullilē ina libbi tašakkanma šarru ina imnišu [u šumēlišu mullil]a inašši ‘After you put two purifiers inside them (two great offering vessels; burzigallu.—N. M.), the king will lift a purifier on his right and on his left.’

In room H of this suite the king is being purified by winged genii with banduddû, while he holds a bowl above the bow (Russell 1998, fig. 17). Finally on the northern wall of room G, at the culminating point of the east suite, the king is depicted sitting on the throne with his legs upon a stool and a bowl in his right hand (fig. 15). Two eunuchs with whisks flank him. The one in front of the king has a towel and a dipper, the other behind, a bow and a quiver. This whole composition is flanked by winged

40

Note the same ceremony under arched baldachin on band IVb.

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genii with mullilū and banduddû, symbolizing purification rites performed here. The depiction of the libating king symbolizes the entire sacrificial ritual and is the only visually represented and strictly cultic action of the king. It is a public depiction of the moment of his public appearance (May 2007:245–246). Thus, the royal appearance under the baldachin with a cup has a twofold meaning: the climactic public moment of the sacrificial rites performed by the king, and purification reached through the sacrifice (idem). It is obvious, therefore, that on bands IVa and IXb (figs. 3, 7), the ivory panel41 and the glazed brick (figs. 13, 14), a purification ritual is depicted in/in front of a baldachin structure/pergola, though in more abbreviated form than on the reliefs of the east suite of the North-West Palace. The ritual character of the ceremony performed is underlined by the appearance of the priest in the additional fourth chariot following the royal vehicle and two carriages with divine symbols on band IVa. The same row of chariots accompanies the same ceremony held under an arched baldachin in the lower register of this band (IVb) and the priest is seen in the fourth as well. In the period of Sargonids, to which all of our Neo-Assyrian textual evidence belongs, representations of the baldachin structure are absent. The depictions of field rituals are reduced to the sacrificial scene in front of the pair of the divine symbols, all examples of which were assembled by Reade (2005, figs. 11–17).42 Noteworthy is that on the reliefs of Tiglath-Pileser III and Sargon II those symbols stand next to a tent (Barnett–Falkner 1962, pl. LX and fig. 8), the construction of which is the same as that of a regular Assyrian tent, and which when shown in section displays a strong frame supporting the covering cloth. On Sargon’s relief this tent is decorated with concentric squares. This can be a later modification of Ashurnasirpal II’s and Shalmanesers III’s baldachin structure. As was noted, Ashurbanipal’s vine arbour (fig. 1 and esp. 1a), was suggested to be identified as qersu by Deller (1987). There is no need to re41

To the best of my knowledge depiction of an axe shown on the ivory panel as a purified weapon is unique. 42 In all those scenes from Sennacherib’s times the symbols are mounted on free-standing chariots; no tent or other construction is seen in their surrounding in unbroken context (the Lachish room, Barnett et al. 1998, pls. 345–347, nos. 437– 439; on the rest of Sennacherib’s presentations the context is broken).

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peat here his argumentation. Moreover, I would like to stress similarities it shares with the qersu-arbours of his predecessors and differences, which divide between them and reflect the changes which this structure underwent in the course of Neo-Assyrian history. Ashurbanipal’s vine arbour is unique, not only in Neo-Assyrian, but in Mesopotamian art as a whole, though it often appears as a resting spot in depictions starting from the Hellenistic period (cf. Dionysos under the vine, e. g. Dinkler 1979:402, fig. 58) and later in antiquity (Jonah resting under the gourd, ibid. and p. 405, No. 361; p. 410, No. 367; p. under the 413, No. 371, etc.). Ashurbanipal borrowed it from the Elamite imagery (Amiet 1986:159; Porada 1990:175; Stronach 1996:190;43 May 2007: 205), which preceded him for more than millennium. The other, but uncertain example of a vine arbour representation is attested probably on the White Obelisk (fig. 9). The vine foliage adorning the arbour, though natural in this case, reflects the “rhetoric of abundance” inherent to floral ornaments (Winter 2003), such as cones and pomegranates, which decorate the baldachin structures of Ashurnasirpal II and Shalmaneser III (figs. 2, 4, 5, 6, 13, 14). Royal marital or sexual rites take place not only in Ashurbanipal’s pergola, but in the baldachins of Shalmaneser III (figs. 4, 5, 6), where they take place together with the triumphal festive royal meal (naptunu) terminating the field war ritual (May 2007:190–194). But Ashurbanipal’s arbour, being definitely a free-standing structure, is not part of a military camp, but of the entourage of a park surrounding royal palace, i. e. a free-standing structure of the palace area as it appears in Esarhaddon’s correspondence, concerning the substitute king period (see above). This change might reflect both the development of functions and Sitz im Leben of the portable shrine in Neo-Assyrian ritual milieu and the influence of the atmosphere of Ashurbanipal’s period, who hardly participated personally in the military campaigns. Conclusions A portable shrine—the qersu—was introduced into Mesopotamia by the Amorite nomads together with the West-Semitic word designating it. The same Amorite dynasty, which left us the Mari kispu-ritual where this word was first attested, ruled in Assyria and I believe brought the baldachin 43

Stronach also points to the possible Egyptian sources of this depiction.

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structure and the term qersu into the Assyrian milieu, where it continued its existence until the Late Assyrian period. The West-Semitic etymology of the Akkadian qersu is supported by the Ugaritic (Fleming 2000:491–492) and Hebrew evidence. The qäräš/ qěrāšîm/qaršê hammiškān of Ex 26:15–28; 36:21–34; 39:33 and Num 3:36; 4:31 designate a (wooden) frame, and specifically its vertical pillars, often resting on silver bases, of the profoundly nomadic portable sanctuary of ’ōhel mō‘ēd. As a portable structure the qersu appears both in Mari and in the NeoAssyrian sources. The Neo-Assyrian evidence points also to its connection with a military camp and to divine symbols, often shown revered on campaign. I argue on the grounds of the pictorial and written evidence discussed above that the baldachin structure or pergola can be identified with the Neo-Assyrian term qersu.44 There is no basis for distinguishing two different meanings of qersu, the ‘sacred area’ and the ‘wooden vehicle,’ as CAD and Parpola do; but the use of the word in non-cultic context do not exclude the possibility, that the structure used in ritual was meant. – The connection of the qersu with donkeys and colts does not provide a proof that it was a cart rather than a portable construction with a wooden frame base, cloth top or cover, and a leather bottom. Inside it was a reed hut or wall and probably a bed. Already the Mari kispu-ritual provides evidence that the qersu was connected with donkeys through the donkey slaughtering, a nomadic rite performed inside it. This connection of donkeys or colts with a portable shrine might survive until the Neo-Assyrian period, though probably not in this particular form. Worth notice that the Levitic family Merari responsible for the transportation of qaršê hammiškān (Num 4:31–33; 7:8) is given carts and beasts of burden to perform this duty. – There is no doubt that the qersu was a part of the royal entourage, since in cultic usages it is always connected with the king and in non-cultic usages it is mentioned either in the letters written to the king or in inventory lists of the palace utensils also as ascribed to palace officials. – Finally, it should be clearly established that the qersu is attested at least from the period of Sargon II in ritual context as well, and not only from the times of Esarhaddon and Ashurbanipal as it might seem from Deller’s analysis (Deller 1987). 44 The methodological grounds for identifying the ritual depicted by the early Neo-Assyrian monuments with the ritual known from Late Assyrian text are provided in May 2007, Part II, Chapter 2.

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Sumerian and Akkadian Lexicon and Terminology – The etymologies provided by Deller (ibid. 231–232) do not necessarily suggest that the meaning of qersu should be ‘vine arbour,’ and not just ‘arbour,’ since in related languages etymologically connected words often have close, but not exactly the same, and sometimes even opposite, meanings.

I would suggest for the qersu the following interpretation: ‘a portable shrine, an arbour often used on the march as a camp chapel (especially in the earlier Neo-Assyrian period).’ This might also explain the connection of the qersu with donkeys or colts which were needed to transport it, though this matter can be more complex (see below). The baldachin structures of Ashurnasirpal II’s relief (fig. 2) and of the Balawat gates suite perfectly the textual descriptions of the functions of the qersu: 1) It is an important part of the Assyrian camp (madāktu) in the periods of Ashurnasirpal II and Shalmaneser III—fig. 2 and the Balawat Gates, passim. 2) It is strongly connected with portable divine symbols (šurinnu or urigallu) both in texts and imagery. 3) A festival meal (naptunu) for the king is served there—figs. 1, 2, 4, 5, 6, 10. Of all the representations of a royal banquet or a served festive meal an arbour is lacking only in the depictions of the banquet of Sargon II (Botta–Flandin 1849, pl. 57, 58, 60–66, 112, 113) where the upper part and the king himself are broken away and the White Obelisk, seventh register, side D (Sollberger 1974, pl. XLV), where the feasting king sits inside the fortified city. 4) Purification rites are performed there—figs. 3, 7, 13, 14. 5) Intercourse took place inside it during the substitute king ritual (note also the qersu ša dun[ni]?—‘the qersu of a bed’ in ND 2665 in this connection). The appearance of the vassal kings’ daughters among the tribute delivered to the king, who stands by the baldachin structure depicted on bands Vb, VIb of the Balawat Gates (figs. 4, 6), also may be a part of the royal purification ceremony which was performed on occasion of war and included intercourse.45 In this connection the vine arbour in the “Garden Scene” of Ashurbanipal (fig. 1a) constitutes a difficulty, since the queen of Assyria, Libbali-Sharrat, feasts there with her royal spouse. She does not seem to be a participant in the sexual part of the namburbi, as she could not be sent away ‘to the border of a hostile land’ as the ritual demands. In this case either the ritual is limited to the royal festival with a modification so that the queen participates in it too (Deller 1987: 230); or, if the intercourse is implicated here, a sacred marriage was also performed inside 45

It is probably the namburbi published by Mayer (1988).

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the qersu-arbour (Barnett 1985), which might be the case also for the vassal kings’ daughters.46 6) The qersu was covered with linen—the baldachin structures have a textile top (leather bottom cannot be recognized in visual media).47

In this connection the vine arbour of Ashurbanipal is an exception: it has grapevines instead of a textile cover with pomegranates and cones hanging down, as symbols of abundance. Grapevines are also an abundance symbol, though deriving from Elam and Anatolia and not from Southern Mesopotamia.48 I see it as a specific, probably more elaborate case of the qersu, as the vine arbour is a specific case of an arbour. So Deller’s identification of the qersu as a ‘Weinlaube’ is correct, but is only a particular case of a wider entity. Ashurbanipal’s vine arbour was definitely not portable, though it stood outside the palace. Here the realia of the time of this king, who did not frequently participate personally in the military campaigns, are reflected. This depiction suits the usage of the qersu in the substitute king ritual as a free-standing structure within the palace precinct. In two cases the baldachin structure is depicted as a double construction: on the monumental relief from the palace of Ashurnasirpal II (fig. 2) and on band IVb (King 1915, pl. XIX) of the Balawat Gates. Such a double tent is reminiscent of the Tabernacle, which consisted of two chambers (Ex. 26:33). Finally, a few words should be said on the relation of the qersu to the horses or colts. Royal rituals performed in the stable (bēt abūsāte) and in the qersu are found when the ceremony was held in a city (see VAT 10464obv. i 1–15 and KAR 215rev. vi 1–13, May 2007:215–236 and ND 1120, Deller 1981:65, ll. 7, 22). In Ashurnasirpal II’s field war ritual representation (fig. 2), the horses appear in front or probably even inside the arbour. On the Balawat Gates they are often seen in the immediate proximity to it, inside the camp (e. g., Band Ib, King 1915, pl. I). When the 46

The theme of the sacred marriage is purposely not treated in the present study, for it would demand separate research worthy of dissertation length treatment unto itself. We must suffice here by stating that although the existing evidence suggests some connection between the qersu and the sacred marriage rites, it cannot serve as a clear-cut proof. 47 [Ša] qersi da’nū(KALAGMEŠ)—‘the strong [x-s of] the qersu’ (ND 1120) probably are either a dismountable carcass or a pillars of an arbour. 48 On the symbolism of grapevines and vine drinking in Anatolia (see Gorny 2000:159–162) and on Anatolian and Elamite vine imagery influence on the first millennium Assyria (Stronach 2000, esp. p. 180).

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qersu is depicted outside the camp, chariots with divine symbols are always nearby. On Ashurbanipal’s relief depicting a royal banquet in a vine arbour (upper register, slab D, fig. 1b), traces of a horse’s lips eating from a trough are preserved together with a chest and front legs of a horse. A groom stands nearby and a table loaded with horse harness is behind him. With the lack of a text it is impossible to understand what this connection signifies, but it is important to establish its existence. It is quite probable that a cart, following the divine standard and royal chariot in the sixth register (sides A–B) of the White Obelisk, is a qersuarbour depicted on the march: it is an important part of the royal ritual procession (fig. 16) and is crowned with a supernatural creature—winged quadruped, as the arbour of the field ritual is crowned with caprides (fig. 2, 16). This image of a wheeled sanctuary strongly reminds much later representations of the Ark of Covenant in synagogues of Dura-Europos and Capernaum (Kraeling 1956, pl. LVI, panel WB4; Kohl– Watzinger 1916:34, Abb. 6849). Is it the explanation of the emārī ša qersi in ND 2643, SAA 11, 36 and ND 2451? Did the qersu substitute for all the structures of the temple and the temple precinct, including the bēt abūsāte during the army campaign? This seems to be highly probable, but remains uncertain in the light of the evidence at our disposal. Nevertheless the qersu was obviously the primary sacred place for the cultic activities of the Assyrians during their military campaigns. List of figures50 Fig. 1. ‘Ashurbanipal’s feast.’ Reliefs of the North Palace of Ashurbanipal fallen into the room S (S1). Entire picture according to the Boutcher’s original drawings. Three registers. Slabs A–E. After Barnett 1976, pl. LXIII. Fig. 1a and b. Details. Fig. 2. Baldachin structure in royal field war ritual. Ashurnasirpal II. NorthWest Palace at Kalhu, the throne room B-5+6+7-a. Fig. 3. Balawat Gates. Band IV, upper register. Encampment and assault of Dabigu of Bit-Adini (Year 251 of Shalmaneser III = 857 BCE). After King 1915, pls. XIX–XX.

49

The Ark in the land of Philistines is depicted on the panel from Dura-Euro-

pos.

50

Figs. 1, 8, 9, 10, 11, 14, 16 © Trustees of the British Museum. See Yamada 2000:51 and 255 on generalization of similar incidents in representations of the Shalmaneser III’s Balawat Gates. 51

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Fig. 4. Balawat Gates. Band V, lower register. Tribute of a city, probably of Unqi/Patin (Year 2 of Shalmaneser III = 857 BCE). After King 1915, pls. XXVIII–XXX. Fig. 5. Balawat Gates. Band VI, upper register. Tribute of Sangara, king of Carchemish (Year 2 of Shalmaneser III = 857 BCE). After King 1915, pls. XXXIV–XXXVI. Fig. 6. Balawat Gates. Band VI, lower register. Tribute of a city, probably of Carchemish (Year 2 of Shalmaneser III = 857 BCE). After King 1915, pls. LI–LIII. Fig. 7. Balawat Gates. Band IX, lower register. Capture of the city Qarqar in Hamath (Year 6 of Shalmaneser III = 853 BCE). Fig. 8. Tent of Sargon II. After Botta–Flandin 1849 II, pl. 146. Fig. 9. White Obelisk, second register, sides A–C. After Sollberger 1974, pls. XLII–XLIV. Fig. 10. White Obelisk, third register, sides A–C. After Sollberger 1974, pls. XLII–XLIV. Fig. 11. White Obelisk, fourth register, sides D–C. After Sollberger 1974, pls. XLII–XLIV. Fig. 12. Balawat Gates. Band I, upper register. After King 1915, pls. I–II. Fig. 13. Glazed brick, depicting the king inside an arbour, flanked by eunuchs. Nimrud, 9th c. BCE. After Layard 1953, pl. 55. Fig. 14. The baldachin structure (qersu). Ivory panel. 9th c. BCE. Kalhu. Temple of Nabu. The throne room. After Mallowan 1966:247–248, no. 209. Fig. 15. North-West Palace of Ashurnasirpal II at Kalhu. Room G, G-2, 3. Central scene of the room, adorning its northern wall. Winged genii are purifying the libating king attended by eunuchs. After Layard 1853, fig. 5. Fig 16. White Obelisk. VI register, sides D–C. After Sollberger 1974, pls. XLII– XLV. Fig. 17. The king seated in a grove under the arched trees is accepting. Balawat Gates of Shalmaneser III. After Unger 1920, p. I, 3–5. Fig. 18. A baldachin structure within a camp. Balawat Gates of Shalmaneser III, Band P. After Unger 1920, Pl. II, 7.

474 Sumerian and Akkadian Lexicon and Terminology

Fig. 1

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Fig. 1a & 1b

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476 Sumerian and Akkadian Lexicon and Terminology

Fig. 2

Fig. 4

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Fig. 3

477

478

Fig. 6

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Fig. 5

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Fig. 7

Fig. 8

479

480

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Fig. 9

Fig. 10

Fig. 11

Fig. 12

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Fig. 13

Fig. 14

481

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Fig. 15

Fig. 16

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Fig. 17

483

484

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Fig. 18

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Appendix52 After this paper was submitted, during RAI 55 I came across a fragment of band N of the Shalmaneser’s III Balawat Gates at the Louvre. It represents the king celebrating a victory with a cup in his hand. Loaded tables stand in front of him (fig. 17; Unger 1920, pl. 1; Schachner 2007:148, fig. 77 and 306, pl. 14). He is surrounded and attended by his eunuchs, while the soldiers are bringing him the booty—cedar beams. The entire scene takes place in a grove. The king is seating under an arch of two bowed trees. This image is a link between the celebration scene under floral arches, which appears on the White Obelisk (fig. 9) and the ‘Garden Scene’ of Ashurbanipal (fig. 1–2). The question of interrelation between a grove and an artificial wooden construction, which is a portable sanctuary, will be discussed on the other occasion. There are two more representations of a portable sanctuary on the Balawat Gates’ bands at the Louvre. On the band P it is shown standing on the mountain within a camp. A beardless figure is depicted inside it and a bearded man with a raised hand in front (fig. 18; Unger 1920, pl. 2; Schachner 2007:308, pl. 16). The other representation of a baldachin structure in the Louvre is an exact parallel to the figs. 4–6, though not a chariot, but a boat seems to appear behind it (Louvre AO 1934).

52

I am glad to express my gratitude to Élisabeth Fontan, Conservateur en chef, Département des Antiquités orientales, Museé du Louvre for her kind help.

Über Spiegel, Bronze und Schiffe aus Dilmun in altsumerischer Zeit Rostislav N. Oreschko Institute of Oriental Manuscripts, St. Petersburg

1. Einer der kennzeichnenden und glücklichen Züge der altsumerischen administrativen Texte, im Vergleich mit späteren Texten aus der Ur-IIIZeit, ist ihr etwas weitläufigerer Stil und die Neigung zu detaillierten Beschreibungen der zu registrierenden Gegenstände und Handlungen. Solche Details sind häufig sehr interessant und können einige bemerkenswerte Hinweise auf damalige kulturelle, historische oder religiöse Verhältnisse in latenter Form verbergen. In den hier dargelegten Ausführungen möchte ich die Bezeichnung eines Objektes besprechen, das in einer bestimmten Gruppe altsumerischer Texte vorkommt, die Listen der Kultgegenstände darstellen. Die übliche Schreibweise des Namens dieses Objektes ist zàbar dílim má-dilmun, zwar einige Abweichungen in der Schreibung vorkommen (dazu s. u.). Das bisherige Verständnis dieser Zeichengruppe ist m. E. nicht ganz treffend und lässt viele Fragen offen. Diese Interpretation geht auf Anton Deimel zurück, der darunter “eine eherne Schale in Form eines Dilmun-Schiffes” verstand.1 In dieser Weise wurde die Bezeichnung auch in späterer Literatur aufgefasst. In ihren Ausgaben altsumerischer Texte folgen J. Bauer2 und G. Selz3 Deimels Interpretation, ebenso die Autoren, die sich mit den Beziehungen Mesopotamiens zu den im Persischen Golf liegenden Ländern, und darunter Dilmun, beschäftigen, wie z. B. W. Heimpel,4 B. Alster5 und

1

Deimel, A. Die Opferlisten Urukaginas und seine Vorgänger. Or 28 (1928):70. Bauer, J. Altsumerische Wirtschaftstexte aus Lagasch (StP 9). Rome, 1972, S. 461. 3 Selz, G. Die altsumerischen Wirtschaftsurkunden der Eremitage zu Leningrad (FAOS 15/1). Stuttgart, 1989, S. 533. 4 Heimpel, W. Das Untere Meer. ZA 77 (1987):37–38. 5 Alster, B. Dilmun, Bahrein, and Alleged Paradise in Sumerian Myth and Literature. Potts, D. (Hrsg.). Dilmun. New Studies in the Archeology and Early History of Bahrain (BBVO 2). Berlin, 1983, S. 50–51. 2

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B. Hruška.6 Dabei nimmt man Bezug auf textlich bezeugte Bootsmodelle altbabylonischer Zeit, die die mit Dilmun und Makkan Handel treibenden Kaufleute oder ihre Verwandten für die Tempel weihten, offensichtlich für die Tempel derjenigen Götter, die in irgendeiner Verbindung mit der See und dem Seehandel standen, um ihr Wohlwollen zu erreichen oder Dank auszusprechen.7 Derartige Bootsmodelle sind auch archäologisch bezeugt, einschließlich im Kontext der Tempel.8 Die Frage ist aber, wie gut Bootsmodelle in den Kontext altsumerischer Texte passen. Der Gegenstand zàbar dílim má-dilmun taucht in 7 publizierten Texten des altsumerischen Korpus auf: Fö 13, BIN 8, 390, DP 51, 69–72. Außer DP 51, der eine Liste von Weihungen meistens in Form verschiedener Viktualien (níĝ šu-taka4) darstellt, sind alle Texte Listen von Paraphernalia, die eine Rolle in Kult spielten, aller Wahrscheinlichkeit nach im Kult der Götterbilder, und die beim Anlass eines Festes verschiedenen Gottheiten geweiht wurden (a … ru). Die Weihungen werden in der Regel im Namen der Frau des Ensis (barag-nam-tarra oder sa6-sa6) vollzogen. Neben zàbar dílim má-dilmun werden unter den Weihungen am häufigsten verschiedene Arten des Halsschmucks und der Kronen aufgelistet, manchmal auch Gewänder und andere Gegenstände. Besonders wichtig ist aber die Tatsache, dass diese Weihungen für den Kult ganz verschiedener Götter bestimmt waren. In drei Fällen erhält diesen Gegenstand die Göttin dnanše (Fö 13 ii 2; DP 70 i 1; DP 72 iii 1), und je einmal treten andere Göttinnen auf: d¶endur-sa× (DP 72 v 2), dnin-mar-KI (DP 69 i 1), dinanna ib-gal (BIN 8, 390 i 1). Einmal aber erhält den zàbar dílim má-dilmun auch eine männliche Gottheit, dnin-asu (DP 51 ii 4). Außer wahrscheinlich Nin-mar-KI, weist m. W. keine einzige von diesen Gottheiten eindeutige Verbindungen entweder mit der See oder mit dem Handel auf, was die Weihung eines Bootsmodells erklären könnte. Die Göttin Nin-mar-KI hatte einen Tempel in Guaba, das an der Meerküste lag. Eine solche Lage legt die Vermutung nahe, dass der Tempel in gewisser Weise am Seefernhandel im Persischen Golf beteiligt war, worüber man vielleicht auch in den Textzeugnissen einige

6 Hruška, B. Dilmun in den vorsargonischen Wirtschaftstexten aus Shuruppak und Lagaš. Potts, D. (Hrsg.). Dilmun. New Studies in the Archeology and Early History of Bahrain (BBVO 2). Berlin, 1983, S. 83. 7 Cf. Oppenheim, A. L. The Seafaring Merchants of Ur. JAOS 74 (1954):8, n. 8. 8 Meyer, J.-W. Zur Bedeutung der Bootsmodelle aus dem Alten Orient. Richter, T.; Prechel, D. et al. (Hrsg.). Kulturgeschichten. Altorientalische Studien für Volker Haas zum 65. Geburstag. Saarbrücken, 2001, S. 267–283.

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Hinweise findet.9 Aber der gesamte Kontext der Texte lässt keine Zweifel darüber, dass es nicht um gelegentliche Weihungen der Kaufleute geht, sondern dass es Listen der Paraphernalia oder Schmuckgegenstände (im weiteren Sinne) sind. Jedenfalls ist es klar, dass man hier eher einen universellen Gegenstand erwarten muss als ein Bootsmodell oder eine Schale in der Form eines spezifischen Schiffes. Das zweite Moment, das Einwände hervorruft, ist die innere Diskrepanz der gesamten Wendung zàbar dílim má-dilmun, falls man das Element má-dilmun als Bezeichnung der Form versteht, und zwar die Diskrepanz zwischen der Form eines Schiffes, sei es auch ein Dilmun-Schiff, und der Form, die das Element dílim voraussetzt. Dílim (manchmal auch dél gelesen) hat die akkadische Entsprechung itquru und kann zwei zusammenhängende Gegenstände bezeichnen, und zwar eine Waagschale oder einen Löffel.10 Im ersten Fall sollte es eine sehr flache Schale oder sogar ein Diskus sein.11 Im zweiten Fall ist es auch eine kleine Schale, rund oder länglich, mit einem Griff versehen.12 In beiden Fällen setzt das Element dílim einen eher runden und ziemlich flachen Gegenstand voraus. Das lässt sich kaum mit der Form eines Schiffes, besonders eines Seeschiffes, in Übereinstimmung bringen. Aus dem Mesopotamien des 3. Jahrtausends sind zahlreiche Darstellungen, vor allem auf Siegeln, und Modelle von Wasserfahrzeuge auf uns gekommen.13 Nach diesen Darstellungen sind typische mesopotamische Boote ziemlich lang und haben hohe Steven, die häufig nach innen gebogen sind. Diese Form zeigt keine Ähnlichkeit zu der Form einer Schale. Mesopotamische Beispiele stellen aber meistens eher Flussboote dar und können für Rückschlüsse auf das Aussehen eines dilmunitischen Seeschiffes nur mit Vorsicht benutzt wer-

9

Nik. 313, wo ein Seehändler Utu-lú-sa6-ga nach seiner Rückkehr aus Elam auf Konto des Kaufmanns Ur-é-mùš eine bestimmte Summe Silber im Tempel der dnin-mar-KI setzt. Vgl. Selz, G. J. Untersuchungen zur Götterwelt des altsumerischen Stadtstaates von Lagaš. Philadelphia, 1995, S. 260 mit Anm. 1251. 10 Lexikalisch ist auch die Bedeutung ‘Ruderblatt’ bezeugt, was durchaus verständlich ist, berücksichtigt man die allgemeine Ähnlichkeit zu einem Löffel als einem Stiel mit breiteren Ende. Die Belege s. in CAD I/J 300–302. 11 S. z. B. einen Exemplar aus Tello: Genouillac, H. Fouilles de Telloh 2. Paris, 1936, S. 95 und Pl. 88, I (AO 12830). 12 Für Beispiele und Literatur s. RlA 7:75–77. 13 S. Göttlicher, A. Materialien für ein Corpus der Schiffsmodelle im Altertum. Mainz, 1978, S. 23–30 und Taf. I–VII; Amiet, P. La Glyptique mésopotamienne archaïque. Paris, 1961, Pl. 13bis, 86, 91, 103; Salonen, A. Die Wasserfahrzeuge in Babylonien (StOr 8/4). Helsinki, 1939, Taf. III–XIII.

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den. In dieser Hinsicht scheinen Darstellungen auf Siegeln und Schiffsmodelle aus dem Gebiet des Unteren Meeres selbst – aus Failaka und Bahrain – viel informativer zu sein. Die Schiffe auf diesen Siegeln sehen kürzer als mesopotamische Boote aus (d. h. das Verhältnis der Länge zu Höhe ist geringer), haben ziemlich hohe Steven und zeigen einen deutlichen Knick an den Stellen, wo die Steven mit dem Kiel zusammengefügt sind.14 Dieser Knick und die daraus folgende im Aufriss fast rechteckige Form des Schiffes schließen jegliche Assoziationen mit einer Schale aus.15 Die Interpretation von zàbar dílim má-dilmun als eine Schale in der Form des Schiffes stößt also auf viele Widersprüche und benötigt eine andere Erklärung. In der folgenden Analyse wird der Versuch unternommen, auf zwei Fragen Antwort zu geben: 1) Was für ein Gegenstand steht hinter dieser Bezeichnung? 2) Welche Eigenschaft, wenn nicht die Form, beschreibt dabei má-dilmun? 2. Ein Problem, das bislang nicht ernsthaft berücksichtigt wurde, ist, welches Element die Rolle des eigentlichen Namens des Gegenstandes – zàbar oder dílim spielt. In den Textausgaben besteht eine gewisse Unsicherheit bei der Auffassung der Rolle des zàbar.16 Die Übersetzung ‘Bronze(-)Schale’ setzt einerseits voraus, dass zàbar als Hinweis auf das Material des Gegenstandes aufgefasst wurde und dílim als Name, aber andererseits umschreibt man zàbar nicht als Determinativ, sondern stellt zàbar und dílim als zwei Substantive in Apposition. Die Funktion des zàbar als Hinweis auf das Material des betreffenden Objektes, also als “Determinativ” des Metallgegenstandes, ist für altsumerische Texte nicht belegt, diese Rolle spielt immer urudu. In späteren sumerischen Texten steht zàbar fast immer nach dem Namen des Objekts selbst und fungiert

14

Zu den Darstellungen auf Siegeln s. Potts, D. T. Watercraft of the Lower Sea. Dittmann, R.; Finkbeiner, U. et al. (Hrsg.). Beiträge zur Kulturgeschichte Vorderasiens: Festschrift für Reiner M. Boehmer. Mainz, 1995, S. 559–571. Zu den Fragmenten der Schiffmodelle aus Bahrain s. Mortensen, P. et al. (Hrsg.). Qala’at al-Bahrain. Vol. 1. Aarhus, 1994, S. 369. 15 Es sei hier auch bemerkt, dass in den Fällen, wo es sich sehr wahrscheinlich um Bootsmodelle handelt – in den altbabylonischen Texten (z. B. ÜT V 532, 561, 563) und in einem neusumerischen Text (MVN XV, 226) –, vor der Bezeichnung des Bootes (am häufigsten ist es má-gur8) kein anderes Wort steht. Die Modelle wurden also nicht ‘Gefäße in der Form eines Bootes’, sondern einfach ‘Boote’ genannt und wurden folglich überhaupt nicht als ‘Schalen’ aufgefasst. 16 S. Bauer, J. Wirtschaftstexte, S. 461; Selz, G. Wirtschaftsurkunden, S. 533; ders. Untersuchungen, S. 150, 199–200, 213, 257.

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wahrscheinlich auch nicht als Determinativ, sondern als Apposition, also “X der Bronze”. Die Stellung des zàbar auf die erste Position verlangt also eine andere Erklärung. Glücklicherweise gibt es noch einen altsumerischen Text, Nik. 301, in dem sehr wahrscheinlich derselbe Gegenstand belegt ist, aber in einer etwas anderen Schreibung: Vs. I

5. II

5. Rs. III

12 uruduzàbar-KA-zi 12 uruduzàbar-šu 6 uruduzàbar má-dilmun 3 urudusim-zàbar 12 túgšu-du8-ùr 12+ túgní×-lem4 sal-la 4 túgní×-lem4 gíd-da 10 lá 1 gadaa-dab6 1 gadaù-lá 2 túgkúš 6 túgní×-bar-ba 10 túgbar-dul5 [sal]-la [...] [x x x]-lá [x x (x) x]-×ar

Der Text ist unter zwei Aspekten wichtig. Erstens zeigt die Form zàbar má-dilmun eindeutig, dass gerade zàbar die Bezeichnung des Gegenstandes selbst darstellt, und darüber hinaus weist das Ausbleiben des dílim darauf hin, dass dieses Element sekundär ist und demnach die Funktion eines Attributes hat. Zweitens stellt Nik. 301 den zàbar dílim má-dilmun in den Kontext, der m. E. sehr hilfreich bei Interpretation sein könnte. Hier haben wir vier Namen von Gegenständen, drei von ihnen enthalten das Element zàbar als Hauptteil, der vierte schließt es in Verbindung mit dem Element nam ein. Als Substantiv kann zàbar ganz verschiedene Objekte aus Bronze bezeichnen,17 aber der Kontext des Textes, in dessen zweitem Teil auch verschiedene Kleidungsarten aufgelistet sind, legt nahe, dass es sich um eine Klasse ähnlicher Objekte handelt, die auch in einer gewissen Verbindung mit Kleidern stehen. Obwohl die Rückseite der Tafel zerstört ist, gibt es Gründe zu vermuten, urudu

17

S. vor allem der betreffende Teil der lexikalischen Serie A = nâqu (MSL XIV, III/3:193ff). Vgl. Steinkeller, P. On the Meaning of zabar-šu. ASJ 9 (1987): 348; Römer, W. Hymnen und Klagelieder in sumerischer Sprache (AOAT 176). Münster, 2001, S. 84, und auch akk. siparru (CAD S 296).

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dass dieser Text eine Inventurliste derjenigen Gegenstände ist, die auch in der oben genannten Textgruppe der Götterweihungen figurieren. Von den in Nik. 301 aufgelisteten Objekten aus Bronze ist nur die Bedeutung des zàbar-šu ziemlich klar. Wie P. Steinkeller gezeigt hat,18 steht hinter dieser Bezeichnung der Spiegel, akk. mušālu (mašālu, mešēlu), und sie ist eine frühere Variante des späteren ní×-zàbar-šu. Darüber hinaus kann auch zàbar selbst den Spiegel bezeichnen und so kann man vermuten, dass zàbar-šu eine Art Spiegel ist, wohl ein Spiegel mit einem Griff. Das ist die am häufigsten bezeugte Spiegelart. Was der Name des vierten Gegenstandes, nam-zàbar, bezeichnet, ist nicht klar. Aber es ist bemerkenswert, dass auch in anderen Fällen, wo nam-zàbar in altsumerischen Texten auftaucht, es unmittelbar nach zàbar-šu steht (außer Nik. 301 sind es VAT 4856 ii 5–6 und DP 75 ii 2–3). Das setzt eine enge Verbindung zwischen diesen zwei Gegenständen voraus. Wenn es keine Spiegelart ist, könnte man an eine Spiegelstütze oder etwas Ähnliches denken.19 Die Bedeutung des uruduzàbar-KA-zi bleibt ganz unklar. Man kann nur vermuten, dass hinter dieser Bezeichnung, wie auch hinter uruduzàbar má-dilmun selbst, verschiedene Spiegelarten stehen. Dass es in diesem Text nicht um verschiedenartige Gegenstände aus Bronze geht, sondern um eine Klasse der ähnlicher Objekte, legt auch der weitere Zusammenhang nahe. Im zweiten Teil des Textes werden verschiedene Gewandarten aufgezählt und so bilden diese zwei Sachkategorien zusammen ein Verzeichnis der Schmuckgegenstände, die mit Körperpflege bzw. Körperverzierung verbunden sind, oder in diesem Fall wohl mit ‘Standbildpflege’. Die Bedeutung ‘Spiegel’ ist trotzdem nicht die einzige mögliche Variante und man kann nicht ausschließen, dass es z. B. um kosmetische Utensilien geht.20 3. Wenden wir uns jetzt unmittelbar denjenigen Texten zu, in denen zàbar dílim má-dilmun vorkommt. Wie schon oben erwähnt, sind es Listen der Weihungen (ní× a-ru(-a)) für verschiedene Gottheiten aus Anlass eines Festes. In der Liste sind neben zàbar dílim má-dilmun vor allem verschiedenartige Kronen oder Diademe (men) und Halsschmuck (gu18

S. Anm. 15. Kaum an einen Futteral, weil es keinen Hinweis gibt, dass nam-zàbar aus Leder oder Holz hergestellt wurde, was aus allgemeinen Gründen logisch zu vermuten wäre. Vgl. aber u. Hinweis auf bronzene Spiegelkästchen in der antiken Zeit. 20 Die zweite Bedeutung des akk. mušālu ist Kosmetikpalette (CAD M2 256), obwohl es niemals mit dem Sumerogramm UD.KA.BAR geschrieben wird. Das zeigt, wie leicht die Bezeichnung auf verwandte Objekte übertragen werden konnte, die präzise Bedeutung lässt dabei nur der Kontext bestimmen. 19

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za) genannt, also die Gegenstände, die für die Verzierung verschiedener Körperteile bestimmt waren. Manchmal werden in den Texten Gefäße bur genannt (BIN 8, 390 i 5; DP 70 i 2–3; DP 71 i 1; DP 72 ii 2 ), die für wohlriechende Stoffe bestimmt sein konnten. Darüber hinaus wurde einmal ein Kleidungsstück (túg ní×-sal-la, BIN 8, 390 ii 9) und eine Art Gurt (ebí¶ SAL) erwähnt. Zuletzt wird in einem Text dieser Gruppe eine Zeile vor zàbar dílim má-dilmun ein silberner Spiegel mit einem nicht ganz klaren Attribut (zàbar kù lu¶-¶a dub SA(É)-kam?) genannt (DP 72 ii 3), was eine enge Verbindung zwischen zwei Objekten voraussetzt. Zàbar ku luh-ha und zàbar dílim má-dilmun stellen wohl verschiedene Arten desselben Gegenstandes dar, gerade so wie men sag sig-ga und men ku lu¶-¶a in den Zeilen 1–2 desselben Textes oder gu-za LI-LI-da ku lu¶-¶a und gu-za zi-um ku-sig in zwei folgenden Zeilen. Abgesehen von dem Text DP 71, wird zàbar dílim má-dilmun in allen Texten der oben genannten Gruppe erwähnt und ist demnach ein typischer Gegenstand, der im Festkult verschiedener Götter Verwendung fand. Mit dieser Textgruppe steht ein anderer kleiner Korpus der altsumerischen Texte in engem Zusammenhang. In dieser zweiten Gruppe werden auch Festkultgegenstände aufgelistet, aber keine Götterweihungen, sondern Weihungen für Ahnen. Sie umschließt fünf Texte (DP 73, 74, 76, 77, 78). Als Beispiel sei DP 74 angeführt: Vs. I

II

5. III

5. Rs. IV

1 gú-za ad-tab kù lu¶-¶a 1 gú-za um-dur kù-sig17 1 gú-za um-dur kù lu¶-¶a 1 gú-za GUL LI-LI-da me-nigìn-ta 1 gú-za ad-tab kù lu¶-¶a 3 gú-za um-dur kù lu¶-¶a nin-me-zi 1 gú-za ad-tab kù lu¶-¶a 1 gú-za um-dur kù-sig17 2 gú-za um-dur kù lu¶-¶a munus-sa6-ga 1 gú-za ad-tab kù lu¶-¶a 2 gú-za um-dur kù lu¶-¶a 1 gú-za GUL um-dur gal-gal gemé-dba-ú 4 bar-si siki 4 sa sa× 4 zàbar-šu

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5.

V

4c-za-ne-ne-kam ezem dba-ú-ka d ba-ú-ig-gal sagi sa6-sa6 dam iri-ka-gi-na lugal lagaški-ka-ke4 e-na-šúm 3

Auch das ist eine Liste von Schmuckgegenständen, aber die Struktur unterscheidet sich ein wenig von entsprechenden Listen mit Götterweihungen. Wie man sehen kann, sind in DP 74 vier Personen genannt. Vor jedem Namen werden je vier Halsschmuckobjekte aufgezählt und dann, in der vierten Kolumne, werden noch 3 Gruppen mit je 4 Gegenständen genannt, offensichtlich je ein Gegenstand für jede Person. Diese letzten Gegenstände unterscheiden sich nicht voneinander und sind darum alle zusammen ohne Beiwörter am Ende genannt, im Gegensatz zu den im ersten Teil des Textes aufgezählten Sachen. Alle diese Gegenstände erfüllen m. E. die gleiche Funktion wie die in den Götterweihungslisten, und zwar sind sie für die Verzierung der Ahnenbilder bestimmt. Das ist wieder ein Set einander ergänzender Schmuckgegenstände: Halsschmuck (gu-za), Kleider (bar-si siki), Kopfbedeckung (sa-sag) und Spiegel (zàbar-šu). Ein Spiegel ist noch in zwei anderen Texten dieser Gruppe genannt (DP 73, 74). In DP 77 und 78, wo zàbar-šu fehlt, fehlen auch Halsschmuck und Kopfbedeckung, das sind also nur Kleiderlisten. Das Kleid figuriert deutlich häufiger in den Listen der Festweihungen für Ahnen als für Götter. Diese Tatsache kann man dadurch erklären, dass die für Götterkult abzugebenden Kleider auf getrennten Tafeln aufgelistet wurden, die nicht auf uns gekommen sind. So ist aus den Listen der Ahnenweihungen klar ersichtlich, dass eine Spiegelart, und zwar zàbar-šu im Festkult der Ahnenbilder Verwendung fand. Bei dem Vergleich der Texte aus den beiden Gruppen kann man schließen, dass zàbar dílim má-dilmun als eine funktionelle Entsprechung des zàbar-šu in den Listen der Götterweihungen auftritt. Der Unterschied besteht m. E. im Grad der Prächtigkeit. Die Festkultgegenstände für die Ahnen waren, nach den genannten Listen zu beurteilen, etwas weniger prachtvoll als die für die Götter. Darum war für die Ahnen nur die übliche, einfache Spiegelart aus Bronze zàbar-šu bestimmt, hingegen für die Götter prächtigere zàbar dílim má-dilmun oder zàbar kù lu¶¶a. Dieselbe Situation liegt mit einem sa-sag für die Ahnen vor, das allem

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Anschein nach nicht aus Edelmetall hergestellt war, und einem men, einem Diadem oder einer Krone, aus Edelmetall für die Götter. 4. Die zwei Attribute dílim und má-dilmun sind dann Hinweise auf irgendwelche Besonderheiten, die zàbar dílim má-dilmun von der gewöhnlichen Spiegelart unterscheiden. Es scheint keine andere Möglichkeit zu geben, als in dem Element dílim ein Charakteristikum der Form des Spiegels zu sehen. Wie schon oben gesagt, kann dílim zwei Gegenstände darstellen: einen Löffel und eine Waagschale. Es ist schwierig zu entscheiden, welche von diesen zwei Möglichkeiten gemeint sein könnte, weil das vorhandene Material aus dem Mesopotamien des 3. Jahrtausends sehr sparsam ist. Einerseits gibt es eine bestimmte Ähnlichkeit, abgesehen von Proportionen, in Form eines Löffels und eines Spiegels mit einem Griff. In diesem Fall konnte dílim eine allgemeine Form des Spiegels angeben: eines Spiegels, der zusammen mit dem Griff als ein Stück gegossen ist, im Unterschied zu den üblichen mesopotamischen Exemplaren lediglich mit einem Ansatz für den Griff aus einem anderen Material. Außerdem waren manchmal die Spiegel der späteren Zeiten ziemlich konkav gestaltet,21 was die Ähnlichkeit der Spiegelfläche mit einer flachen Schale noch verstärkt. Es gibt aber noch eine andere Möglichkeit. Falls unter dem Attribut dílim eher eine Waagschale verstanden wurde, ist es ein Hinweis auf die runde Form des Spiegels, eventuell mit dem Rand, aber ganz ohne Griff. Mir gelang es nicht, eine solche Form im mesopotamischen archäologischen und bildlichen Material ausfindig zu machen. Diese Spiegelform ist aber gut bekannt aus klassischer Zeit dort, wo die antiken Kulturen verbreitet waren oder Einfluss hatten. Der Spiegel solchen Typs hatte einen mehr oder weniger hohen Rand (an der Hinterseite), der die Funktion einer Versteifungsrippe erfüllte, und manchmal einen kleinen Ring auf der Hinterseite für die Befestigung. Häufig waren runde Spiegel ohne einen Griff mit einem bronzenen Kästchen versehen oder waren als Klappspiegel gestaltet,22 um die Spiegelfläche zu schützen. Die Spiegel dieser Form sind unter den etruskischen23

21

S. z. B. Corpus Speculorum Etruscorum. Bundesrepublik Deutschland. Fasc. 1. München, 1986, S. 109, 159, 163, 167. 22 Schwarzmaier, A. Griechische Klappspiegel. Berlin, 1997. 23 Corpus Speculorum Etruscorum. Bundesrepublik Deutschland. Fasc. 3. München, 1990, S. 64, 89; Denmark. Fasc. 1. Odense, 1981, S. 45; Great Britain. Fasc. 2. Cambridge, 1993, S. 117.

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und den späteren römischen24 Spiegeln bekannt. Man findet ähnliche Spiegel auch im fünften und vierten vorchristlichen Jahrhundert im Nordschwarzmeergebiet, also im Gebiet der griechisch-skythischen Interferenz.25 Der Spiegel dieser Form ähnelt wegen des ziemlich hohen Randes tatsächlich einer flachen Schale und wird von Forschern manchmal fiale genannt. 5. Schließlich kommen wir zum Problem, was má-dilmun in der Bezeichnung zàbar dílim má-dilmun beschreibt. Die Antwort ist in anderen Texten zu suchen, die Dilmun oder die dilmunitischen Schiffe erwähnen. Die ‘Schiffe Dilmuns’ werden mehrmals in altsumerischer Zeit in Inschriften Ur-Nanšes erwähnt,26 ebenso in späteren königlichen Inschriften. In allen Fällen ist dilmun nur ein Hinweis auf den Herkunftsort der Schiffe, man gibt keine weitere Details in Bezug auf Aussehen, Besatzung oder Ladung.27 Das Land Dilmun taucht in den sumerischen Texten des 3. 24

S. z. B. Lloyd-Morgan, G. The Mirrors: Including a Descriptions of the Roman Mirrors Found in the Netherlands, in Other Dutch Museums. Hague, 1981. 25 Kuznecova, S. Die Spiegel Skythiens. Moskau, 2002 (Zerkala Skifii). 26 Die Belege s. RGTC 1, S. 158. 27 Mir scheint kaum möglich, die Wendung, in der die Dilmun-Schiffe immer wieder in Königlichen Inschriften auftreten, má dilmun (kur-ta) gú ×iš mu-×ál als ‘er (Ur-Nanše) hat Dilmun-Schiffe (aus Fremdland) Holzlasten bringen lassen’ zu übersetzen (Falkenstein, A. Die Inschriften Gudeas von Lagaš. Einleitung (AnOr 30/1). Roma, 1966, S. 47; Steible, H. Die Altsumerischen Bau- und Weihinschriften (FAOS 9/2). Wiesbaden, 1982, S. 4–5). Noch weniger wahrscheinlich scheint die Heimpels Übersetzung ‘Dem Ur-Nanše, König von Lagaš, legten sich Tilmunschiffe aus dem Land (nämlich Tilmun) das Joch auf den Nacken’ (Heimpel, W. Das Untere Meer. ZA 77 (1987):70), was eine gewisse Abhängigkeit Dilmuns von Ur-Nanše voraussetzt und sehr umstritten sowohl in gesamten historischen Kontext scheint, als auch im Kontext der Inschriften, wo Ur-Nanše nur seine ganz friedliche Bautätigkeiten beschreibt. Dieselbe Wendung ist in Statue D und Zylinder A Gudeas bezeugt, wo Dilmun-Schiffe zusammen mit den Schiffen aus má-ganki, me-lu¶-¶aki und gu-biki auftreten (Stat. D iv 4–11). Es ist kaum sinnvoll, zu vermuten, dass alle diese Schiffe nur Holz lieferten und man gerade diese Tatsache irgendwie hervorheben brauchte. Umstritten ist auch die Verwendung des ×iš als ein Gesamtbegriff für verschiedene (hochwertige) Holzarten. Zuletzt scheint seltsam, eine so künstliche Konstruktion mit dem Verb ×ál zu verwenden, um die ziemlich einfache Handlung ‘bringen’ wiederzugeben, während, z. B., in derselben Statue Gudeas (Stat. D iv 15–16) bei Beschreibung der Lieferung von Diorit ein normales Verb e11 verwendet wird. Ich möchte die Wendung gú ×iš … ×ál als eine Bezeichnung des Prozesses des Anlegens eines Schiffes interpretieren. Ich nehme an, dass ×iš eine verkürzte Schreibweise für den Gegenstand ist, dessen völligere Variante durch ×iš-dù-a vertreten ist und

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Jahrtausends relativ häufig auf. Was das altsumerische Material anbetrifft, wird das Land (als ein konkreter Ort) in 7 administrativen Texten (AWL 188, 191, 189; DP 518, RTC 26, VAT 4845, YBC 12130) erwähnt. Ein Teil dieses Textkorpus behandelt die lagaschitische Wareneinfuhr aus Dilmun. Aus diesen Texten ergibt sich, dass die Ware, die sumerische Kaufleute in Dilmun am meisten interessierte, Metall war. Das Metall – Kupfer und Zinn – ist das einzige Importgut, das in den oben genannten Texten bezeugt ist. Auch in den Texten der folgenden Perioden – von der altakkadischen bis der altbabylonischen – ist Dilmun als (Re-)Exportgebiet des Kupfers gut bezeugt.28 Auf solche Weise war Dilmun stark mit Metall assoziiert. Man darf demnach noch eine Widerspiegelung dieser Tatsache in der Wendung zàbar dílim má-dilmun sehen und má-dilmun als Hinweis auf die Herkunft oder den Vermittler des Objektes verstehen. Obwohl nach Textzeugnissen Kupfer aus der Region des Unteren Meers als Rohstoff geliefert wurde, ist es klar, dass die Golfländer nicht nur Lieferanten des Metalls waren, sondern auch eine eigene metallurgische Tradition haben mussten und verschiedene Bronzewaren herstellen konnten. Noch ein Beleg von Bronzewaren aus Magan stammt aus einem altakkadischen Text (OIP 14, 103), wo unter der ein Paar Zeilen weiter unten an derselben Stelle aus Gudeas Statue genannt wird (Stat. D iv 12–14). Folgend Alster, der den entsprechenden Verbalausdruck (×iš … dù) aus “Enki und Weltordnung” (l. 126) als ‘moorings … be fixed’ übersetzt (Alster, B. Dilmun, Bahrein, S. 50 mit Anm. 75), kann man annehmen, dass ×iš-dù-a eine Art Vorrichtung ist für das Festmachen des Schiffes am Ufer. Es geht wahrscheinlich um einen Haltepflock, den man ins Ufer ‘hineinsteckte’ (dù). Diese Interpretation passt besser in den Kontext der genannten Inschriften und wird darüber hinaus durch eine parallele Stelle aus einer Inschrift Sargons (C 2, s. Gelb, I. J.; Kienast, B. Die Altakkadischen Königsinschrigten des 3. Jh. v. Chr. (FAOS 7). Stuttgart, 1990, S. 164, ll. 11–16) bestätigt, wo die Schiffe aus Magan, Meluhha und Dilmun im Hafen von Akkade ‘angebunden’ (kéš) werden. Man hat sehr wahrscheinlich noch eine Schreibvariante desselben Wortes im technischen Begriff ×išmá-dù (oder genauer ×iš-má-dù) (Römer, W. Beiträge zum Lexikon des Sumerischen. 4. Dietrich, M. (Hrsg.). Mesopotamica–Ugaritica–Biblica. Festschrift für Kurt Bergerhof zur Vollendung seines 70. Lebensjahres am 7. Mai 1992 (AOAT 232). Kavelaer, 1993, S. 384). In der bei Römer angeführten Passage aus Gilgamešepos entspricht dem in der sumerischen Version stehenden ×iš-má-dù einmal akk. tarkullu ‘mooring post’ (CAD T 236) und einmal sikkatu ‘peg, nail’ (CAD S 247). Die dort benutzten Verben passen auch perfekt zu der vorgeschlagenen Deutung: ma¶ā´u (ra) ‘hineinschlagen, -treiben’ und nasā¶u (dab) ‘ausreißen’. 28 S. Heimpel, W. Das Untere Meer. ZA 77 (1987); Leemans, W. F. Foreign Trade in the Old Babylonian Period. Leiden, 1960.

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verschiedenen Utensilien ein ZA-LUM zàbar má-gan genannt ist, dessen Bedeutung leider unklar ist. Überraschenderweise stehen auf der Liste auch verschiedene Spiegelarten (ma-ša-lum gal und ma-ša-lum tur in Zeilen 6–7 und zàbar-šu in Zeile 8). In jedem Fall ist es klar, dass es sich um eine Klasse ähnlicher Objekte handeln sollte, die am Ende des Textes zusammen als zàbar ¶i-a genannt und summiert werden. Dieser Text zeigt außerdem die Richtung, in der die Erklärung der ungewöhnlichen Angabe der Herkunft, und zwar durch Hinweis auf einen Schiff, zu suchen ist. Es ist bekannt, dass Dilmun selbst – heutiges Bahrein und die gegenüberliegenden Gebiete der arabischen Halbinsel – der Herkunftsort des Kupfers nicht sein konnte, weil es keine Kupfervorkommen besaß. Heute hält man Makkan – heutiger Oman – für den Herkunftsort des Kupfers, das nach Mesopotamien durch den Persischen Golf gelangte. Die Zinnvorkommen, die die Quellen des nach Mesopotamien importierten Zinn waren, lagen noch weiter im Osten, aller Anschein nach im Gebiet, das Meluhha einschloss. Laut heutigen Angaben kann man diese Zinnvorkommen in Afganistan lokalisieren.29 In diesem Handelsystem fungierte Dilmun vor allem als Vermittler. Andererseits ist es bekannt, dass in der altsumerischen Periode die Namen Makkan und Meluhha nicht in den Texten vorkommen. Eine mögliche Erklärung dieser Tatsache ist (wenn es kein Zufall ist), dass der ganze mesopotamische Handel im Persischen Golf in altsumerischer Zeit durch Vermittlung von Dilmun und seiner Flotte stattfand. Vielleicht gerade deswegen war das, was eigentlich “die Bronze aus Makkan” war, wie im erwähnten altakkadischen Text, in der altsumerischen Zeit als “die Bronze der Dilmun-Schiffe” bekannt gewesen. Schließlich sei noch ein altsumerischer Text erwähnt, in dem die betreffende Wendung zàbar má-dilmun auftritt. Der Text RTC 23 stammt aus dem frühen Abschnitt der lagaschitischen Geschichte, und deswegen liegen hier einige Abweichungen von dem normalen Dokumentformular vor, was seine endgültige Interpretation erschwert. Es geht um die Zeilen iii 3–4, wo nach der Mengenangabe einer Kupferart (10 lá 1 ma-na urudu EN-da nagga u5-a), welche nur hier bezeugt ist, zàbar má-dilmun steht. Man könnte hier eine verkürzte oder nachlässige Schreibung des Objektes in Terminativ vermuten, wie es in der Zeile i 2 der Fall ist (zàbar gu5-li-šè ‘für (Herstellung) der Guli-Gefäße’). Bei der zweiten Metallmengenangabe in den Zeilen ii 7 – iii 2 fehlt aber jeglicher Hinweis 29

Zu diesen Fragen s. Stech, T.; Piggot, V. C. The Metals Trade in Southwest Asia in the Third Millennium B. C. Iraq 48 (1986):39–64.

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auf den Zweck der Abgabe. Das macht auch die Vermutung möglich, dass die Wendung zàbar má-dilmun keine fehlerhafte Schreibung ist und nicht einen Objekt bezeichnet, sondern ganz buchstäblich in diesem Fall als ‘Bronze des Dilmun-Schiffes’ zu verstehen ist und auf diese Weise eine weitere Beschreibung der Kupferart darstellt, die offensichtlich nicht sehr präzis bestimmt ist (urudu EN-da nagga u5-a wortwörtlich ‘auf Zinn gesetztes Kupfer’), wogegen die ersten zwei Proportionen Kupfer/Zinn genau angegeben (1:7 bzw. 1:6) sind. Man könnte dann in zàbar mádilmun einen Hinweis auf Kupferqualität sehen. Bei Bevorzugung der ersten Interpretation soll man aber keinen Widerspruch darin sehen, dass die ‘Spiegel des Dilmun-Schiffes’ vor Ort hergestellt werden konnten. Das ist ein gewöhnlicher Prozess, wenn der Name einer Sache nach ihrer Verbreitung mit einem bestimmten Ort verbunden bleibt. Man herstellt z. B. die Bajonette schon lange nicht nur in Bayonne, ebenso wie die Herstellung des Damastes (Damaszener-Stahls) war nicht nur auf Damaskus beschränkt.

Périphérique ou local? Le vocabulaire des paysages de la Vallée de l’Euphrate au IIe millénaire av. n. è. Hervé Reculeau Russian State University for the Humanities, Moscow

La région du Moyen-Euphrate présente au IIe millénaire av. n. è., dans la période comprise entre les XVIIIe et XIIIe s., des traits historiques et culturels propres qui permettent de la définir, selon l’expression de J.-M. Durand,1 comme un “espace médian”, situé à mi-chemin des mondes occidentaux (Levant, Syrie méditerranéenne) et orientaux (Mésopotamie proprement dite, soit les pays historiques de Sumer et d’Akkad). Ces spécificités, qui trouvent leur origine dans l’installation en ces terres, au tournant du IIIe et du IIe millénaire, de populations amorrites d’origine occidentale,2 se marquent, sur le plan documentaire, par la présence dans les tablettes cunéiformes du Moyen-Euphrate de vocables inconnus des textes orientaux, et dont l’étymologie révèle une origine ouest-sémitique. Ces spécificités linguistiques sont, avant tout, sensibles dans l’onomastique, où elles servent usuellement à établir l’origine amorrite d’un nom3—sans que l’on puisse en inférer nécessairement celle de l’individu qui le porte, au moins après le XIX s. av. n. è., où populations amorrites et akkadiennes se sont définitivement mêlées. Si les anthroponymes “amorrites” sont attestés dans l’ensemble de l’aire syro-mésopotamienne, il n’en est pas de même de nombreux noms communs, connus de la seule région médiane (en l’absence quasi-complète de documents provenant des régions occidentales): sans surprise, c’est dans le domaine des pra1

Durand, J.-M. Assyriologie. Annuaire du Collège de France 2001/2002:741–761. Voir en dernier lieu la contribution de D. Charpin à Charpin, D.; Edzard, D. O.; Stol, M. Mesopotamien. Die altbabylonische Zeit (OBO 160/4). Fribourg–Göttingen, 2004, pp. 57–60. 3 Voir en particulier les travaux pionniers de Huffmon, H. B. Amorite Personal Names in the Mari Text. Baltimore, 1965 et Gelb, I. J. Computer-Aided Analysis of Amorite (AS 21). Chicago, 1980, à compléter par les études plus récentes de Durand, J.-M. Études sur les noms propres d’époque amorrite, I: les listes publiées par G. Dossin. MARI 8 (1997):597–674, et Streck, M. P. Das amurritische Onomastikon der altbabylonischen Zeit. Bd. 1 (AOAT 271/1). Münster, 2000. 2

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tiques socio-culturelles propres à cette région que ce vocabulaire est le plus riche, en particulier en ce qui concerne l’organisation tribale et les pratiques nomades, éléments essentiels de son identité.4 De façon peut-être plus inattendue, l’étude du vocabulaire employé pour décrire les réalités topographiques et paysagères de la vallée du Moyen-Euphrate révèle elle aussi l’existence d’un corpus lexicographique spécifique, dans lequel des termes d’origine ouest-sémitique côtoient ceux rencontrés dans les textes mésopotamiens. Certains termes, cependant, posent problème: leur analyse par le biais de l’étymologie ouest-sémitique, telle qu’elle a été souvent entreprise,5 aboutit à des résultats peu satisfaisant dès lors que l’on cherche à recontruire la réalité des paysages antiques décrits dans les documents cunéiformes, et il semble parfois préférable de poser l’existence, dans le corpus méso-euphratéen, de formes akkadiennes non (encore?) attestées dans les espaces où l’akkadien était considéré, au moins pour la première moitié du II millénaire av. n. è., comme la langue vernaculaire.6 Par l’étude de ce lexique, il est ainsi possible de mettre en avant certains traits des pratiques scribales du Moyen-Euphrate au IIe millénaire avant notre ère, qui relèvent moins d’un usage “périphérique” de l’akkadien, comme on le répète trop souvent, quelles témoignent de l’existence de traditions locales, avec leurs logiques propres. On peut l’étudier en s’attachant, dans un premier temps, à la nature de la documentation méso-euphratéenne, avant de montrer comment le vocabulaire des paysages témoigne d’un usage propre de termes tant ouest-sémitiques qu’akkadiens, et de préciser, enfin, le jeu des relations entre la notation dans une langue donnée et le sémantisme véhiculé. 1. La nature de la documentation méso-euphratéenne 1.1. Les documents de la pratique du Moyen-Euphrate: lettres, contrats et textes administratifs La documentation “primaire” disponible pour l’analyse des paysages mésoeuphratéens est constituée des archives cunéiformes datées du Bronze 4

Voir en dernier lieu Durand, J.-M. Peuplement et sociétés à l’époque amorrite: (1) les clans bensim’alites, dans Nicolle, C. (éd.). Nomades et sédentaires dans le Proche-Orient ancien (CRRAI 46 = Amurru 3). Paris, 2004, pp. 111–197. 5 Un ouvrage récent s’est même proposé d’en faire le relevé et l’analyse systématiques, à partir de la documentation d’Emar: Pentiuc, E. J. West Semitic Vocabulary in the Akkadian Texts from Emar (HSS 49). Winona Lake, 2001. 6 Voir en dernier lieu Charpin, D.; Ziegler, N. Amurritisch lernen. WZKM 97 (2007):55–77.

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moyen et récent, retrouvées en divers sites de la vallée de l’Euphrate dans son parcours syrien. À l’exception de quelques inscriptions royales provenant de Mari, en particulier l’inscription dite du “disque” de Ya¶dunLîm,7 il s’agit de textes de la pratique, dont la répartition dans le temps et l’espace est inégale. Les documents les plus anciens datent de l’époque amorrite, et sont avant tout représentés par les archives palatiales de Mari, au temps des rois Yasma¶-Addu et Zimrī-Lîm. Le corpus le plus important est celui des différentes correspondances de fonctionnaires en poste dans le royaume,8 qui mentionnent en particulier les travaux d’irrigation nécessaires aux cultures, et de ce fait contiennent maintes notations de termes topographiques. Il est complété par les textes administratifs qui enregistrent les estimations de récoltes liées à l’impôt (šibšum) ou à la gestion des terres

7

Frayne, D. R. Old Babylonian Period (2003–1595 BC) (RIME 4). Toronto, 1990, pp. 602–604, No. E4.6.8. (avec la bibliographie antérieure), à compléter par Durand, J.-M. La maîtrise de l’eau dans les régions centrales du ProcheOrient. Annales HSS 57/3 (2002):566–567. 8 Les lots d’archives diffèrent sensiblement entre les deux règnes, de même que le degré d’avancement de leur publication. Pour l’époque du Royaume de Haute-Mésopotamie, les lettres publiées dans les volumes I, II (pour partie), IV et V des Archives Royales de Mari ne traitent que peu de sujets agraires, mentionnés avant tout dans les correspondances (encore inédites) de serviteurs royaux comme le šukkallum Lā!ûm, le responsable du cadastre Ikšud-appāšu, Šamaš-māgir, en poste dans la région de la Forteresse de Yasma¶-Addu, et de deux serviteurs aux attributions inconnues, Ilī-nērī, en poste sur le Habur, et Úabdu-Amim, qui s’occupait des champs de la région de Našer. Parmi les documents datant du règne de Zimrī-Lîm, la correspondance des trois grands gouverneurs provinciaux, publiée dans les volumes II (pour partie), III, VI, XIII (pour partie) et XIV des ARM, ainsi que celle des gouverneurs de Qa¢¢unān publiée en ARM XXVII forment le cœur du dossier, mais de nombreux éléments encore inédits se trouvent dans des lettres émanant de gouverneurs ayant occupé le poste de façon plus temporaire (voir pour le détail de ces responsables Lion, B. Les gouverneurs provinciaux du royaume de Mari à l’époque de Zimrî-Lîm. Amurru 2 (2001):141–209). Outre les gouverneurs, les šandabakkū Yasīm-Sumu et Ôidqêpu¶ ou d’autres fonctionnaires royaux chargés des affaires agricoles du Palais ont laissé quelques lettres, pour l’essentiel inédites. Pour les lettres publiées, nous renvoyons à la réédition de Durand, J.-M. Documents épistolaires du palais de Mari. T. 1–3 (LAPO 16–18). Paris, 1997, 1998 et 2000, l’ensemble des documents ayant trait aux affaires agricoles encore inédits devant faire l’objet d’une prochaine publication par nos soins, à paraître dans la série Florilegium Marianum.

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palatiales,9 et par quelques documents juridiques privés retrouvés au Palais, qui contiennent des tablettes enregistrant des achats de champs.10 Cette dernière catégorie représente l’essentiel de la documentation hors de Mari car, hormis un document administratif de Tuttul daté de Yasma¶-Addu,11 le reste de la documentation utile pour notre propos est exclusivement composé de textes juridiques, datant soit de l’époque amorrite, comme pour une partie des textes de Terqa,12 soit du Bronze récent, comme c’est le cas pour le restant de la documentation de Terqa, complétée par celles des sites de la boucle de l’Euphrate, Emar13 et Ekalte,14 ainsi que par divers textes issus de fouilles clandestines pouvant être rattachés soit à ces deux derniers sites, soit à leurs abords.15

9 Quelques uns de ces textes ont été publiés dans les volumes VII, IX, XI, XII, XXII, XXIII et XXIV des ARM, mais l’essentiel en est toujours inédit, et fera l’objet d’une publication par nos soins dans l’ouvrage mentionné ci-dessus. 10 Boyer, G. Textes juridiques et administratifs (TCL 29). Paris, 1957, pour les planches, et Boyer, G. Textes juridiques (ARMT VIII). Paris, 1958, pour les transcriptions, à compléter par les collations de Durand, J.-M. Relectures d’ARM VIII, I. Collations. MARI 1 (1982):91–135 et Charpin, D. Relecture d’ARM VIII: compléments. MARI 2 (1983):61–74. Une partie de ces documents est toujours inédite et doit faire l’objet d’une publication par D. Charpin. Elle n’a pas été prise en compte pour la présente étude. 11 Krebernik, M. Tall Bi‘a/Tuttul. II. Die altorientalischen Schriftfunde (WVDOG 100). Saarbrücken, 2001, No. 120. 12 Voir, pour les documents provenant des fouilles officielles, Rouault, O. Terqa Final Reports. 1. L’archive de Puzurum (BiMes 16). Malibu, 1984, et pour ceux issus de fouilles clandestines, Podany, A. H. The Land of Hana: Kings, Chronology and Scribal Traditions. Bethesda, 2002, à compléter par Charpin, D. Chroniques du Moyen-Euphrate. I. Le “royaume de Hana”: textes et histoire. RA 96 (2002):61–92. 13 Arnaud, D. Recherches au pays d’Aštata. Emar VI/1. Textes sumériens et akkadiens. Planches. Paris, 1985; Id. Recherches au pays d’Aštata. Emar VI/2. Textes sumériens et akkadiens. Planches. Paris, 1985; Id. Recherches au pays d’Aštata. Emar VI/3. Textes sumériens et akkadiens. Textes. Paris, 1986. Le quatrième volume, qui contient les transcriptions et traductions de textes littéraires, n’intéresse pas directement notre étude. 14 Mayer, W. Tall Munbāqa-Ekalte. II. Die Texte (WVDOG 102). Saarbrücken, 2001. 15 Huehnergard, J. Five Tablets from the Vicinity of Emar. RA 77 (1983):11–43. Arnaud, D. La Syrie du moyen-Euphrate sous le protectorat hittite: contrats de droit privé. AuOr 5 (1987):211–241; Id. Textes syriens de l’âge du Bronze récent (AuOr Sup 1). Barcelona, 1991 (ci-après TSABR); Id. Tablettes de genres divers du Moyen-Euphrate. SMEA 30 (1992):195–248.

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1.2. La nature des documents du Moyen-Euphrate Cette documentation est avant tout caractérisée par son fort degré de normalisation, qui s’est effectué sous l’influence directe des pratiques scribales de Mésopotamie. À Mari, c’est pendant le règne de Ya¶dun-Lîm que le système d’écriture local, improprement appelé “šakkanakku”, a été remplacé par le système d’écriture alors en vogue à Ešnunna,16 sans doute pour des raisons politiques17 mais aussi afin d’établir une koiné autorisant une meilleure communication entre les différentes cours de l’espace amorrite.18 Une des conséquences de ce changement de paradigme a été de masquer, dans la nouvelle documentation, certains traits dialectaux propres à l’espace méso-euphratéen, l’emploi de l’akkadien standard, tant au niveau lexical que syntaxique, faisant disparaître de la documentation le vocabulaire “local”, que les textes antérieurs montrent être phonétiquement et morphologiquement distinct du dialecte ešnunnéen.19 La normalisation des pratiques scribales à l’époque de Ya¶dun-Lîm influença l’ensemble de la documentation mariote postérieure, et il faut noter que les scribes de Mari n’ont pas, comme le firent ceux d’Ugarit au Bronze récent, opté pour une dichotomie dans les systèmes d’écriture en Beckman, G. Three Tablets from the Vicinity of Emar. JCS 40 (1988):61–68; Id. Texts from the Vicinity of Emar in the Collection of Jonathan Rosen (HANE/M II). Padoue, 1996 (ci-après HANE/M II, les textes étant cités sous le sigle RE). Goodnick-Westenholz, J. Cuneiform Inscriptions in the Collection of the Bible Lands Museum Jerusalem: The Emar Tablets (CM 13). Groningen, 2000 (ci-après CM 13). Sigrist, M. Seven Emar Tablets. Rainey, A. F. (éd.). kinattūtu ša dārâti: Raphael Kutscher Memorial Volume. Tel Aviv, 1993, pp. 165–184. Tsukimoto, A. Akkadian Tablets in the Hirayama Collection (I). ASJ 12 (1990):177–259; Id. Akkadian Tablets in the Hirayama Collection (II). ASJ 13 (1991):275–333; Id. Akkadian Tablets in the Hirayama Collection (III). ASJ 14 (1992):289–310; Id. An Akkadian Field Sale Document Privately Held in Tokyo. ASJ 14 (1992):311–315. Id. Six Fragments from the Middle Euphrates Region. ASJ 13 (1991):335–341; Id. A Testamentary Document from Emar—Akkadian Tablets in the Hirayama Collection (IV). ASJ 16 (1994):231–238. 16 Durand, J.-M. Unité et diversités au Proche-Orient à l’époque amorrite. Charpin, D.; Joannès, F. (éds.). La circulation des biens, des personnes et des idées dans le Proche-Orient ancien (CRRAI 38). Paris, 1992, pp. 97–128, part. pp. 121–123. 17 Voir en dernier lieu la contribution de D. Charpin à Charpin, D.; Ziegler, N. Mari et le Proche-Orient à l’époque amorrite. Essai d’histoire politique (FM V). Paris, 2003, part. p. 39–40. 18 Durand, J.-M. CRRAI 38:122. 19 Id. p. 121, ainsi que Durand, J.-M. La situation historique des Šakkanakku MARI 4 (1985):147–172, part. p. 169–171.

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fonction de leur usage: hormis le cas particulier des serviteurs ayant suivi Samsī-Addu depuis l’Est au temps du Royaume de Haute-Mésopotamie et qui se sont installés dans les royaume de Mari, l’akkadien n’était pas la langue usuellement parlée sur le Moyen-Euphrate, où l’on se servait avant tout d’un vernaculaire amorrite;20 l’akkadien y était donc avant tout une langue écrite, dont l’usage était de règle dans les échanges internationaux. Il est néanmoins remarquable que la notation en akkadien est devenue, après la réforme, la norme d’écriture unique, même dans des textes à usage interne, comme les lettres de gouverneurs au roi, les billets administratifs destinés à la gestion du Palais, ou encore les textes juridiques. Pour les archives postérieures à la chute de Mari, la nature juridique des textes se marque par l’adoption des formulaires standardisés attestés à l’est, mêlant clauses en akkadien et mots-clefs sumériens, selon une organisation précise qui voit se succéder, pour les contrats d’achats de biens immobiliers par exemple, la description du bien (taille et qualité du terrain, “cadastre”, propriétaire), la mention du transfert (prix et paiement), des clauses de non-revendication et enfin la liste des témoins. Le formulaire général est ainsi construit sur le modèle des contrats akkadiens, même si des distinctions apparaissent nettement, en particulier en ce qui concerne les clauses de non-revendication (mention des “frères” à Emar,21 formules de malédiction spécifiques, comme celle mettant en œuvre un bétyle,22 etc.). Ces dernières différences reflètent cependant plus des pratiques socio-culturelles spécifiques qu’une tradition scribale propre. 2. Termes ouest-sémitiques et akkadiens dans le lexique topographique de l’Euphrate Cette documentation fortement normalisée possède néanmoins des caractéristiques propres à cet espace médian: dans le cas qui nous intéresse ici, le vocabulaire des paysages se présente ainsi comme un conservatoire de termes vernaculaires, souvent notés sous une forme akkadisée, du fait de 20

Charpin, D.; Ziegler, N. Amurritisch lernen. WZKM 97 (2007):55–77. Sur cette institution, voir en particulier les travaux de Wilcke, C. AÚ, die ‘Brüder’ von Emar. Untersuchungen zur Schreibtradition am Euphatknie. AuOr 10 (1992):115–150; Bellotto, N. I LÚ.MEŠ.a¶¶i-ia a Emar. AoF 22 (1995):210–228, et dernièrement Otto, A. Alltag und Gesellschaft zur Spätbronzezeit: Eine Fallstudie aus Tall Bazi (Syrien). Turnhout, 2006. 22 Durand, J.-M. Le culte des pierres et les monuments commémoratifs en Syrie amorrite (FM VIII). Paris, 2005, pp. 31–32. 21

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leur contexte de notation, mais qui n’appartiennent pas au répertoire oriental et dont l’étymologie peut s’expliquer par le biais des langues ouest-sémitiques. Ce phénomène d’importation de vocables issus des vernaculaires locaux ne permet toutefois pas de rendre compte de l’ensemble des termes propres au Moyen-Euphrate, certains cas ne se comprenant qu’en supposant une pratique dynamique de l’akkadien par les scribes de cette région. 2.1. La topographie, un conservatoire de lexèmes ouest-sémitiques… Parmi ces termes, notons à titre d’exemple celui de ¶amqum, qui est apparu dans les textes de Mari dès les premières éditions.23 Il a été identifié avec le mot ouest-sémitique "amq signifiant la “vallée”,24 et désigne à proprement parler le “fond de vallée”, soit sa partie la plus basse, celle sur laquelle coule le fleuve. Ce terme, inconnu des textes de l’est, est désormais attesté à Emar au Bronze récent, sous la forme "amqu (am-qu).25 Un autre exemple net, emprunté au vocabulaire technique de l’irrigation à Mari, est connu par une unique occurrence, en LAPO 17 802 (= ARM XIV 14). Le terme yābiltum qui y est employé est un hapax, de formation clairement ouest-sémitique, ainsi que le soulignait M. Birot dans son édition du texte: l’emploi du signe IA révéle une prononciation occidentale YBL de la racine connue à l’est sous la forme WBL, “apporter”.26 La réalité concrète représentée par la yābiltum est précisée, dans le même texte, par son équivalence avec le mot atappum (l. 17), qui montre qu’il s’agit d’un “petit canal de dérivation”:27 cette unique occurrence nous révèle ainsi le nom vernaculaire (“amorrite”) de ce type de canaux, masqué usuellement dans la documentation par l’emploi du terme akkadien atappum. Un phénomène similaire est attesté à Emar pour décrire un grand wādi situé au Sud de la ville, désigné tantôt au singulier comme “le Déva-

23

Le terme apparaît ainsi en ARM II, 107:22; III, 30:9; XIV, 75:17 et 23; XIV, 86:35. 24 Durand, J.-M. Problèmes d’eau et d’irrigation au royaume de Mari: l’apport des textes anciens. Geyer, B. (dir.). Techniques et pratiques hydro-agricoles traditionnelles en domaine irrigué (BAH 136). Damas, 1990, pp. 101–142, part. p. 119. 25 TSABR 3:8. 26 Birot, M. Lettres de Yaqqim-Addu, gouverneur de Sagarâtum (ARMT XIV). Paris, 1974, pp. 41 et 43. 27 Durand, J.-M. LAPO 17:607, n. a) au texte 802. Pour l’équivalence avec atappum, cf. déjà Birot, M. ARM XIV:220.

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lant” (Yar(a)dānu) ou au pluriel comme “les Dévalantes” (Yardānātu),28 et pour lequel on recourt à la racine YRD, forme ouest-sémitique de la racine connue en akkadien comme WRD, “descendre”: bien que le terme soit posé tantôt avec une initiale IA-,29 tantôt avec une initiale WA-,30 le terme est, comme l’a montré J. Huehnergard, d’origine ouest-sémitique,31 le signe PI devant être ici lu ya- (IA8), selon une idiosyncrasie de scribe que l’on peut répérer en d’autres endroits,32 et en accord avec un usage du signe PI déjà connu à Mari. Ce ne sont là que quelques exemples, mais ils témoignent de la façon dont le vocabulaire topographique révèle, dans des textes notant de l’akkadien, certains mots d’origine ouest-sémitique, propres au langage vernaculaire de l’espace méso-euphratéen. Il ne faut toutefois pas en exagérer l’importance, et une étude détaillée des emplois lexicaux montre qu’il ne faut pas systématiquement regarder vers l’ouest pour comprendre ces termes—fussent-ils attestés uniquement dans cette documentation. 2.2. … mais qui accorde néanmoins une large place au lexique akkadien Un des traits surprenants du lexique topographique du Moyen-Euphrate est que, même pour des termes qui n’existent pas dans les régions orientales, une compréhension par l’akkadien apparaît souvent préférable à une étymologie ouest-sémitique. Un premier cas concerne le terme 28 Sur cette réalité topograhique, voir Reculeau, H. Late Bronze Age Rural Landscapes of the Euphrates according to the Emar Texts. D’Alfonso, L.; Cohen, Y.; Sürenhagen, D. (éds.). The City of Emar among the Late Bronze Age Empires. History, Landscape, and Society. Proceedings of the Konstanz Emar Conference, 25.– 26.04.2006 (AOAT 349). Münster, 2008, pp. 129–140. 29 Ex.: RE 64:1: A-ŠÀ i-na KÁ ia-r[a-d]á-ni; TSABR 58:1: A-ŠÀ i-na KÁ ia-[ra-d]á-ni KI-TA. 30 Emar VI/3, 137 (VI/1, 86–87):1: [gišKIRI6-NUMUN i-n]a pa-ni KÁ ša dia8-ar-da-nati; Emar VI/3, 168 (VI/2, 458–459):8′: gišKIRI6-NUMUN a-na pa-ni KÁ ša ia8-ar-da-na-ti4; Emar VI/3, 206 (VI/1, 98):1: gišKIRI6-[NUMUN a-na pa-ni KÁ ša ia8-ar-da-na-t]i. 31 Huehnergard, J. apud Pentiuc, E. J. West Semitic Vocabulary in the Akkadian Texts from Emar (HSS 49). Winona Lake, 2001, p. 86, ainsi que les commentaires de ce dernier auteur ibid., p. 87. 32 En Emar VI/3, 137, en effet, la graphie KÁ ša dwa-ar-da-na-ti de la l. 1 trouve son équivalent l. 6, où la divinité Yum¶a, formée sur le nom ouest-sémitique du jour (Yum, orthographiée en Emar VI/3, 140:3: dUD-¶a) est notée diu8(WA)-um*-¶a. Cf. Durand, J.-M. NABU 1987/15 et id. Compte-rendu de Recherches au Pays d’Aštata. Emar VI/3. Textes sumériens et accadiens par Daniel Arnaud (II). RA 84 (1990):49–85, part. p. 60.

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sip¶u(m) présent abondamment dans les textes de la boucle de l’Euphrate au Bronze récent (Emar, Ekalte), mais pour lequel on dispose d’au moins une attestation dans les archives de Mari. 33 Pour la documentation d’Emar, les interprétations du terme sont nombreuses et contradictoires: si J.-M. Durand avait dans un premier temps suggéré d’y voir une métathèse pour si¶pu, “à proximité”,34 R. Zadok y voit des terres neuves, d’après une racine ouest-sémitique mal attestée (SPÑ),35 A. Tsukimoto considère à l’inverse qu’il s’agit de friches,36 sur la racine akkadienne SPÚ, et M. Yamada de lots de terres non jointifs,37 selon la même étymologie. N. Bellotto hésite entre des terres enrichies par les alluvions du fleuve38 ou une division administrative,39 E. Pentiuc les considère comme des terres plates, sur la racine ÔPÑ,40 et L. Mori se range à l’hypothèse formulée pour Mari par M. Birot,41 qui y voit des terres “ensemencées à la volée”. L’étude des contextes d’apparition du terme a récemment conduit J.-M. Durand à en proposer une analyse différente, comme des “terres éparpillées”, à laquelle nous nous rallions.42 Le sip¶um s’oppose ainsi aux terroirs habituels, mis en valeur de façon récurrente, et connus comme mēreštum (“l’endroit où l’on laboure”) et še/ir!um (“la terre sillonée”). Plu33

ARM XXVII, 3:7–15: (7) še-em ši-ib-ša-am ša qa-a¢-¢ú-na-anki, (8) uš-ta-ad-di-in, (9) ŠE-Ì-GIŠ e-ri-iš, (10) 50 GÁN A-ŠÀ ši-ir-¶a-am, (11) ù 20 GÁN A-ŠÀ sí-ip-¶a-am e-riiš, (12) ŠE-Ì-GIŠ da-am-qú, (13) a-na mu-wu-úr A-ŠÀ A-GÀR, (14) qa-tam aš-ku-un, (15) a-¶u-um ú-ul na-di. Soit: “J’ai collecté le grain représentant l’impôt šibšum de Qa¢¢unân. J’ai semé du sésame: j’ai ensemencé 50 arpents de terre sillonnée (šer!um) et 20 arpents de terres isolées (sip¶um), (et ce) sésame est beau. J’ai commencé de labourer les terres arables. On ne baisse pas les bras!” 34 Durand, J.-M. Compte-rendu de Recherches au Pays d’Aštata. Emar VI/3, Textes sumériens et accadiens par Daniel Arnaud (II). RA 84 (1990):49–85, part. p. 61. 35 Zadok, R. Notes on the West Semitic Material from Emar. AION 51 (1991):113– 137, part p. 119. 36 Tsukimoto, A. An Akkadian Field Sale Privately Held in Tokyo. ASJ 14 (1992), p. 312, n. 1. 37 Yamada, M. Division of a Field and Ninurta’s Seal: An Aspect of the Hittite Administration in Emar. UF 25 (1993):453–460, part. p. 456, n. 1. 38 Opinion présentée lors de la RAI de Venise (1997) et citée par Mori, L. Reconstructing the Emar Landscape (QGS 6). Rome, 2003:132, n. 87. 39 Opinion citée par Beckman, G. HANE/M II:13. 40 Pentiuc, E. HSS 49, pp. 163–164. 41 Mori, L. QGS 6, pp. 132–134. 42 Durand, J.-M.; Marti, L. Chroniques du Moyen-Euphrate 2. Relectures de documents d’Ekalte, Émar et Tuttul. RA 97 (2003):141–180, part. p. 147, n. 32.

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tôt qu’une étymologie ouest-sémitique, le terme se présente ici comme une formation akkadienne PiRS-, construisant le nomen actionis43 de la racine SPÚ, “disperser, éparpiller”.44 Un second exemple peut être donné avec le cas du na¶rapu, uniquement attesté, avec la graphie NA-AÚ-RA-BU, par trois textes d’Emar.45 Plusieurs interprétations de ce terme ont été proposées, sans qu’un consensus ne se dégage: R. Zadok a proposé d’y voir une “grotte”,46 A. Tsukimoto a suggéré d’y voir une “entrée”, *na"rabu étant alors compris comme une forme alternative de nērebu,47—sens en réalité conditionné par sa compréhension erronée de balîtu (méandre mort) comme *balittu, “réservoir”,48 mais qui a été suivi par M. Yamada,49 E. Pentiuc 50 et L. Mori.51 G. Beckman traduit pour sa part le terme en RE 86 comme “le désert”, d’après le terme biblique µārēb, “désert, désolé”,52 mais ce sens n’est guère satisfaisant: la racine est en effet attestée en akkadien, sous la forme ¶arābu, signifiant “être en ruine” (G-Stamm) ou “ruiner” (Š-Stamm),53 et les contextes dans lesquels ce verbe apparaît54 montrent clairement qu’il s’agit d’un processus intentionnel et d’origine anthropique (la dévastation d’un lieu par une armée et l’état qui en résulte), non d’une réalité topographique telle qu’elle apparaît dans les textes d’Emar—une compréhension par “désert” posant par ailleurs un problème sur le plan géographique, puisque les exemples connus indiquent clairement que le NA-AÚ-RA-BU se trouvait en milieu humide.

43

GAG § 55. Cf. CAD S 151, s. v. sapā¶u: “1. to scatter, disperse”. 45 Hirose 43:4: aš-šum A.ŠÀ.ME ša na-oa¶p-ra-pí ša ba-li-ti URU šu-mi; l. 10–11: SAG-2KÁM 1* ¶u-ur-ru ù na-a¶-ra-pu, (11) ša ba-li-ti URU šu-mi. Emar VI/3 194:8: [SAG-KI-2KÁM-ma ¶]u-ur-ru na-a¶-ra-p[u ša ba-li-ti URU šu-mi]. RE 86:27: pa-nu-šu: na-a¶-ra-pu. 46 Zadok, R. Notes on the West Semitic Material from Emar. AION 51 (1991):114. 47 CAD N2 165a, s. v. nērebu: “1. entrance, 2. mountain pass”. 48 Tsukimoto, A. Akkadian Tablets in the Hirayama Collection (III). ASJ 14 (1992):290. 49 Yamada, M. Division of a Field and Ninurta’s Seal: An Aspect of the Hittite Administration in Emar. UF 25 (1993):453–460. 50 Pentiuc, E. HSS 49, p. 129. 51 Mori, L. QGS 6, pp. 130–131, en liant en RE 86 les ll. 27–28: (27) pa-nu-šu: na-!-ra-bu, (28) A-ŠÀ-ÚÁ ú-ga-ra-ta ša É-GAL. 52 Beckman, G. HANE/M II, p. 109: “Perhaps this is a West Semitic term meaning ‘desert’—cf. Biblical Hebrew ¶areb, ‘waste, desolate’.” 53 CAD Ú 87a, s. v. ¶arābu: “(1) to lay waste; (2) šu¶rubu to lay waste”. 54 Voir les exemples recensés par le CAD Ú 87b–88a. 44

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Si l’on analyse à présent les emplois de ce terme dans leur contexte topographique, tant Hir 43 que Emar VI/3 194 le montrent lié à un bras mort du fleuve, et voisinant une dépression humide. Inversement, l’exemple de RE 86, 27 témoigne que cette réalité peut aussi être employée à l’état absolu, et est donc identifiable pour elle-même. La seule façon de faire coïncider les deux réalités ici décrites est de lire la séquence NA-AÚ-RABU des textes d’Emar comme na-a¶-ra-pu, le terme étant à poser non sur une racine ouest-sémitique mais comme une simple formation naPRaS-55 dérivée de ¶arāpum, connu en Babylonien standard pour signifier “couper, trancher”, et que les listes lexicales donnent comme équivalent de nakāsum, “découper” et batāqum, “fendre, briser”,56 terme bien connu à Mari pour désigner l’action érosive des eaux sur les bords de canaux, et en particulier son résultat malheureux, la brèche (bitqum). Le na¶rapu d’Emar représente ainsi la gorge que creuse l’écoulement régulier de l’eau depuis une source quelconque, en l’occurrence, d’après les exemples connus, depuis un bras mort amenagé pour l’irrigation ou depuis un fossé. Ces quelques exemples montrent ainsi que le vocabulaire des paysages présent dans les textes du Moyen-Euphrate fait non seulement se côtoyer des termes akkadiens et ouest-sémitiques, mais que de surcroît des termes d’usage strictement local peuvent présenter des formations akkadiennes inconnues des textes issus de Mésopotamie stricto sensu: les spécificités des textes méso-euphratéens ne se limitent donc pas à l’importation de termes étrangers dans des documents rédigés en akkadien, mais traduisent une pratique dynamique de cette langue. 3. Les relations entre la notation d’une langue et le sémantisme véhiculé Cette réflexion, de la part des scribes de l’Euphrate, sur la nature même de l’écriture cunéiforme et de la langue qu’elle note, apparaît plus clairement encore lorsque l’on analyse les relations sémantiques et étymologiques entre des termes issus de corpus linguistiques différents, mais de même signification. 3.1. Le cas particulier des sumérogrammes Un exemple peut en être trouvé dans la définition du plateau steppique, et particulièrement celle de son rebord abrupt, décrit tant dans les textes 55 56

GAG § 56b. Voir les exemples recensés par CAD Ú 90b–91a, s. v. ¶arāpu B: “to cut”.

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de Mari que dans ceux de la boucle de l’Euphrate comme une “montagne”, mais avec des variantes graphiques et/ou linguistiques nettes, si la métaphore utilisée est la même. À Mari, le rebord du plateau est désigné par le terme de šadûm,57 en particulier pour la région de Lasqum, quelque peu en aval de la passe de Halébiyeh, la “montagne” de Lasqum servant ici de refuge lors d’une épidémie. L’emploi du terme šadûm pour désigner le rebord du plateau se retrouve en LAPO 16 205 (= ARM XIV 34): on y voit les commandos d’interventions (bazā¶ātum), normalement affectés à la garde des campagnes du royaume, aller chercher du ¶urnûm dans la “montagne” (KURRA, l. 7), qui d’après la zone d’action de ces serviteurs désigne moins une véritable zone de montagne que le rebord du plateau, ce que confirmerait l’identification traditionnelle de la plante avec la menthe, même si elle n’est pas assurée.58 Dans ce dernier cas, il est probable qu’il ne faille pas adopter une compréhension trop réduite du terme šadûm, qui désigne moins ici le rebord du plateau (tel qu’il apparaît aux habitants des vallées vivant à ses pieds), mais bien l’ensemble du haut-plateau steppique de Shamiyeh ou de Djézireh.59 Ce phénomène peut expliquer l’existence, dans les textes lexicaux plus récents de Mésopotamie, de plusieurs appellations recourant au qualificatif “du ‘plateau’ (KUR/šadûm)” pour des plantes dont l’environnement naturel est tout sauf montagneux. Un premier exemple en est fourni par le ¶urnûm sus-cité, un texte médical mentionnant spécifiquement le “¶urnû du ‘plateau’ ” (¶urnû ša KUR-e).60 Le même raisonnement vaut pour les “champignons du désert” (kam!ātum), dont les textes de Mari montrent bien que l’habitat était la steppe syrienne mais dont la seule attestation dans une liste lexicale babylonienne est glosée en “plante, fruit du ‘plateau’ ”.61 Dans les textes de la boucle de l’Euphrate au Bronze récent, le rebord du plateau est désigné par l’idéogramme ÚUR-SAG, présent aussi bien

57

Voir déjà Durand, J.-M. FM VIII:5, n. 20. Voir en dernier lieu Durand, J.-M. LAPO 16:336, n. a) au texte 205. 59 Pour ce sens général de šadûm comme désignant le plateau steppique, voir Heidel, A. A Special Usage of the Akkadian Term Šadû. JNES 8 (1949):233–235. 60 Biggs, R. D. ŠÀ.ZI.GA. Ancient Mesopotamian Potency Incantations (TCS 2). New York, 1967, p. 52a (AMT 73, 2:3): Ú úr-na-a ša KUR-e. 61 Uruanna III 321, cité en CAD K 120b, s. v. kam!atu: Ú GURUN KUR-i = Ú ka!-ma-tú. 58

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dans les textes d’Emar que dans ceux d’Ekalte.62 Eu égard au sémantisme du terme ÚUR-SAG, qui note usuellement dans la graphie médio-babylonienne les véritables montagnes,63 de même qu’à Mari šadûm note conjointement la falaise de l’Euphrate et les véritables montagnes du nord et de l’est, il semble au premier abord que l’on se trouve ici en présence d’un phénomène de remplacement dans le choix de l’idéogramme, une même notion topographique étant notée selon un jeu graphique différent selon les pratiques scribales, mais fondamentalement similaire: cette impression est renforcée par le fait que, sauf erreur de notre part, ni le terme akkadien šadûm, ni l’idéogramme KUR ne sont utilisés dans la boucle de l’Euphrate au Bronze récent. Il est néanmoins possible que le sumérogramme ÚUR-SAG, qui n’est connu à Mari que dans le cadre de l’ordalie fluviale à Hīt,64 doive être en réalité lu ¶uršānum, strict équivalent akkadien de l’idéogramme, plutôt que šadûm: par métonymie, le terme propre à la falaise au droit de Hīt aurait, aux époque plus récentes, été utilisé pour désigner l’ensemble du versant.65 3.2. Etymologies “sumériennes” et “akkadiennes” À côté de ces variantes dans la notation des idéogrammes, les textes de l’Euphrate témoignent de l’emploi, pour désigner une même réalité, de termes sémitiques d’étymologie distincte mais dont la logique sémantique est similaire. Un exemple net en est la désignation de certaines terres du fond de vallée, souvent comprises commes des “prairies alluviales”,66 mais qui re62

Ex. gr., pour Emar: Emar VI/3, 171:7: EGIR-sà ÚUR.SAG; RE 70:7: EGIR-sú Sigrist, Mél. Kutscher 4:6: SAG-KI-1-KAM-MA ÚUR-SAG, et pour Ekalte: MBQ 14:3–4: (3) [iš]-tu KASKAL ša KI-TA-t[i], (4) Ú[UR]-SAG a-di ÍD-NUN-N[A]. 63 Voir les exemples recensés en CAD Ú 253b–254b, s. v. ¶uršānu A. 64 Pour ce sens de ¶uršānum, cf. CAD Ú 254b–255b, s. v. ¶uršānu B: “(1) the place of the ¶.-ordeal: (2) ordeal (by water)”. Pour le déroulement de l’ordalie fluviale, cf. Durand, J.-M. ARM XXVI/1: 509–539, avec bibliographie antérieure p. 509, n. 1). 65 L. Kogan me signale cependant que l’emploi de ÚUR-SAG pour rendre le cananéen *šadû, au sémantisme équivalent à celui de son pendant akkadien, est fréquent dans les lettres cananéennes d’el-Amarna, comme l’attestent les gloses liées à l’idéogramme. Cf. Gianto, A. Amarna Lexicography: The Glosses in the Byblos Letters. SEL 12 (1995):65–73, part. p. 67–68. 66 Veenhof, K. An Old Babylonian Deed of Purchase of Land in the De Liagre Böhl Collection. Beek, M. A.; Kampman, A. A.; Nijland, C.; Ryckmans, J. (éd.). Symbolae Biblicae et Mesopotamicae Francisco Mario Theodoro de Liagre Böhl dedicatae. Leiden, 1973, pp. 371–375. ÚUR-SAG;

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présentent ce qu’en géographie l’on nomme un “atterrissement”, c’est-àdire une zone d’alluvions créée par un cours d’eau, que ce soit par accumulation progressive ou par changement de cours. À Mari comme à Terqa, ces terres sont essentiellement désignées par le terme ušallum, qui est présent dans de nombreux textes de la pratique d’époque paléo-babylonienne, tant dans la vallée du MoyenEuphrate qu’en Mésopotamie propre. Ce terme ušallum a, d’après la liste Malku/šarru, qui pose “raq-qa-tum = ú-sal-la”,67 pour synonyme raqqatum, qui a été considéré par W. von Soden comme un emprunt de l’araméen raqqe¬a, n’entrant en usage qu’au premier millénaire.68 M. Stol a néanmoins montré son emploi dès l’époque paléo-babylonienne, et l’impossibilité d’une telle origine:69 on en connaît ainsi une attestation à Mari, en ARM XXIII, 59070 (une liste de terres situées dans la partie basse de la vallée, à Našer), à laquelle on peut ajouter un toponyme comme celui de Raqqum, qui se rattache certainement à cette réalité géographique. L’équivalence lexicale entre ušallum et raqqatum est par ailleurs confirmée par les textes de la pratique d’Emar et Ekalte, où le terme ušallum est inconnu, et où la même réalité est désignée par raqqatum.71 Le terme ušallum se présente très nettement comme l’akkadisation du terme sumérien ú-sal, dont le sens précis n’est nulle part explicité, à

Voir aussi AHw. 1440b, s. v. ušallu(m): “Überflutungs-, Uferland, Wiese, Aue”, ainsi que Durand, J.-M. Problèmes d’eau et d’irrigation au royaume de Mari: l’apport des textes anciens. Geyer, B. (dir.). Techniques et pratiques hydro-agricoles traditionnelles en domaine irrigué (BAH 136). Damas, 1990, p. 120. 67 Von Soden, W. Die akkadische Synonymenliste “D”. ZA 43 (1936):233–250, part. p. 235, l. 42. 68 Von Soden, W. Aramäische Wörter in neu-assyrischen und neu- und spätbabylonischen Texten. Ein Vorbericht. III. Or NS 46 (1977):183–197, part. p. 193; cf. AHw. 958a, s. v. raqqatu II: “Uferwiese, -streifen”. 69 Stol, M. Old Babylonian Fields. BSA 4 (1988):173–188, part. p. 174. 70 ARM XXIII, 590: 6–7 GÁN ra-qa-tum. 71 Voir en particulier, pour Emar: Emar VI/3, 146:1–2: (1) A-ŠÀ ma-la ma-´u-ú i-na ra-qa-ti, (2) ša DUMU ia-¶i-AN; SMEA 30, 3:1–2: (1) A-ŠÀ ma-la ma-´ú-ú i-na raqa-ti, (2) ša DUMU ia-¶i-AN; CM 13, 5:8: gišKIRI6-GEŠTIN i-na ra-qa-ti ša DUMU ia-a¶¶i-AN; Hir 7:21: A-ŠÀ i-na ra-qa-ti ša KÁ […]; RE 1:3–5: (3) giš[KI]RI6-GEŠTIN-ia, (4) ša ra-qa-ti ša tex(TI)-er-´i, (5) URUki; RE 49:1: A-ŠÀ ma-la ma-o´ú i-nap ra-qa-ti; Emar VI/3, 170+:37′′: A-ŠÀ i-na ra-qa-ti ša Ia-¶[i-…]. Le terme est aussi connu à Ekalte, e. g.: MBQ 7:1: A-ŠÀ i-na ra-qa-ti ošap ANTA; MBQ 13:1: A-ŠÀ i+na ra-qa-ti an-ta-ti; MBQ 6:1: A-ŠÀ i+na ra--ti KI-TA {NI}; MBQ 83:1: A-ŠÀ i-na orap-q[a-ti AN/KI]-TA.

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l’exception de l’analyse proposée par J. Halloran, qui le considère comme l’union de ú, “herbe” et sal, “se maintenir”.72 Le verbe sal est susceptible de nombreuses attestations (“to be narrow, thin, wide, spacious; to spread; to persist; to belittle”73), et il n’est pas évident que cette explication soit la bonne, dans la mesure où le propre de ces zones proches du fleuve est que, malgré, ou plutôt à cause de leur localisation, elles ne sont en aucun cas les zones maintenues le plus longtemps en herbe pendant la saison sèche, comme on pourrait le croire au premier abord, la crue du fleuve détruisant au contraire la végétation. En réalité, c’est un autre sens de sal(-la) qui doit être ici pris en considération, celui de “être fin”: l’équivalence akkadienne de ce verbe est en effet raqāqum,74 dont est précisément dérivé raqqatum, que l’on doit considérer comme le véritable terme sémitique pour exprimer cette réalité: en akkadien comme en sumérien, le terme peut donc être considéré comme devant son nom au caractère peu épais de la végétation herbeuse qui, hors de la période qui suivait la décrue, la recouvrait.75 On assiste ici à des jeux portant sur les étymologies akkadiennes et sumériennes, qui permettent de désigner une même réalité selon un schéma similaire, tout en restant au sein du système suméro-akkadien, et sans faire intervenir l’opposition entre vernaculaire parlé et langue notée. Conclusion: choix lexicaux et multi-linguisme L’analyse de quelques-uns des termes attestés dans les documents cunéiformes du Moyen-Euphrate au IIe millénaire av. n. è. permet ainsi de mettre en avant des logiques diverses, parfois contradictoires, qui ne peuvent se résumer à une simple importation, dans des textes akkadiens, de vocables ouest-sémitiques, trahissant l’origine des scribes méso-euphratéens mais aussi, incidemment, leur incapacité à écrire un akkadien “cor-

72

Dans son dictionnaire de sumérien en ligne: http://www.sumerian.org/ sumerlex.htm. 73 Id. 74 CAD R 167b, s. v. raqāqu, avec parallèles lexicaux: sal.sal et sal.la = raqāqum. 75 K. Veenhof (Fs. Böhl 372) avait proposé que l’équivalence entre ú-sal-la et raqqatum indique la planéité des terres tout juste libérées par l’eau, avec pour paradigme l’état des terres au sortir de l’inondation liée au Déluge (Gilgameš XI 134). Il nous semble néanmoins préférable de chercher l’étymologie du terme dans la forme sumérienne, qui lie l’herbe (ú) au verbe sal, et d’y voir une référence à la maigre végétation qui caractérise ces mêmes terres.

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Sumerian and Akkadian Lexicon and Terminology

rect”—ce que sous-entend un terme comme celui, couramment employé, d’akkadien “périphérique” pour décrire la langue notée dans ces textes. Bien au contraire, une étude plus fine montre que, s’il y eut bien importation dans les textes en akkadien de termes occidentaux issus du vernaculaire, il convient ici de ne pas confondre la langue notée sur le Moyen-Euphrate avec ce que pût être le dialecte parlé au même endroit et aux mêmes époques: si ce dernier nous est, pour l’essentiel, à jamais inaccessible, la première témoigne de traditions scribales spécifiques, en partie autonomes de celles de l’est, dans lesquelles les scribes de l’Euphrate apparaissent capables non seulement de mêler termes orientaux et occidentaux, mais aussi d’employer des termes akkadiens, ou dérivés de racines akkadiennes, inconnus à l’est, et même de jouer sur les étymologies des termes sumériens et akkadiens. En ce sens, les textes révèlent avant tout le multi-linguisme des scribes du Moyen-Euphrate, leur capacité à comprendre et noter des langues diverses, dont deux (sumérien et akkadien) étaient pour eux des langues essentiellement (sinon même exclusivement) écrites. Puisant dans des répertoires linguistiques et des pratiques scribales variées, ils ont créé une tradition locale, avec ses dynamiques propres, et qui semble avoir, au moins partiellement, influencé les scribes des régions orientales aux époques plus récentes: ce n’est sans doute pas un hasard si, dès la seconde moitié du IIe millénaire, puis pendant tout le suivant, les termes jusqu’alors strictement méso-euphratéens ont commencé d’être utilisés dans l’est, d’abord dans la langue savante, puis (pour certains termes), dans les textes de la pratique. En ce sens, la composition (probablement à l’époque kassite), d’une liste comme Malku/šarru, qui se présente comme le conservatoire, à l’usage des scribes des régions orientales, d’un vocabulaire d’origine souvent étrangère, et dans lequel on retrouve de nombreux termes qui étaient d’usage courant dans les documents de la pratique du Moyen-Euphrate, témoigne non seulement que ce vocabulaire était en partie obscur aux scribes de l’est, mais aussi qu’ils ont ressenti le besoin de le conserver et, au-delà, de se le réapproprier.

Language in the Ancient Near East

Russian State University for the Humanities

Volume XXX/2

Babel und Bibel 4/2 Annual of Ancient Near Eastern, Old Testament, and Semitic Studies

Language in the Ancient Near East Proceedings of the 53e Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale Vol. 1, Part 2

Edited by

L. Kogan, N. Koslova, S. Loesov, and S. Tishchenko

Published for the Russian State University for the Humanities by Eisenbrauns Winona Lake, Indiana

2010

ISBN 978-1-57506-195-5 (vol. 1) ISBN 978-1-57506-196-2 (vol. 2) ISBN 978-1-57506-167-2 (set) ISSN 1938-5668

The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of the American National Standard for Information Sciences—Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI Z39.48-1984.♾™

The Correspondence between Verbal and Nominal Morphology in Sumerian

Sumerian Compound Verbs: Class II Miguel Civil Chicago / Barcelona

This paper proposes that the chapter on compound verbs in a Sumerian grammar has to distinguish at least three types or classes of compound verbs. The term compound verb will be understood here in its traditional sense: the close association of a verbal base and an incorporated element that can be of a nominal or adpositional nature. This association implies a new lexical item and/or changes in the valence of the verb. The proposed classification is based on the kind of elements added to the base. 1. The first class is the well-known type studied in Karahashi (2000; 2004), and includes the compounds formed by a nominal element and a verbal base:1 S-e valence pattern: subject agent

NP-e oblique object theme

NP-ø direct object instrument

(grammatical relations) (semantic roles)

The instrument/direct object is in the majority of cases the name of a body part, or of a material instrument (e. g., compounds with giš), with a residue of verbs with a nominal element of unknown meaning (e. g., èn— tar ‘to ask,’ ‘to investigate,’ ne—su-ub ‘to kiss’).2 This class will not be further discussed here. A second one includes the compounds of particle + verbal base, where particle designates the so-called dimensional affixes/infixes (henceforth DI), and will constitute the main subject of the present inquiry. This type of compound is well-known in linguistics and is the object of study of three main circles: the classicists, the grammarians of English and Germanic, and the linguists working on the description and typology of exotic languages. The latter group has introduced the concept of applica-

1

This arbitrary notation is inspired in Haspelmath–Müller-Bardey 2004. One can propose at times etymologies that remain nevertheless hypothetical; e. g. na—de5 ‘to cut down a tree’ includes possibly na ‘stone’ in reference to the stone axes used in the past to cut down a tree. 2

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Verbal and Nominal Morphology in Sumerian

tives, said of the morphemes incorporated to the verb that modify the valence pattern. Since the study of Sumerian is more in a situation similar to fieldwork rather than in a theoretical elaboration stage, the term applicative will rarely be used in what follows. There is a third class of compound verbs, somewhat peripheral, formed by a periphrastic construction with a verb meaning ‘to make’ (ak, dug4/e,3 dù, za), with a nominal, or nominalized, element (often a loanword), syntactically the direct object: e. g., inim—dug4 ‘to say,’ ¶a-ab-lum—ak ‘to oppress,’ ga-ba-al—dù ‘to fight,’ etc. It will not retain our attention here either, and the paper will concentrate on the second class. This is not a very original paper. The basic idea of taking the Sumerian verbs with the so-called “dimensional” infixes (DI) as a combination verbal base + adposition is not new: it was already proposed, under the label Wurzelerweiterung, by Delitzsch 1914 (who explicitly compared the process to the Greek and Latin preverbs). Gragg 1973 provides the syntactic and lexical foundations for this interpretation, but refrains from formulating the ultimate conclusions. The recent exhaustive work of Balke 2006, even if limited to the nominal adpositions, makes much easier the study of these compounds. The present paper has the modest goal of proving that this particle/adposition association with the verb is a true compounding process, of examining some of its properties, and claiming as a conclusion that its formal and explicit treatment should be part of any Sumerian grammar. 2. The consequences of this compounding process are: (a) The creation of a new lexical item (this follows from the definition itself of a compound, Comrie 1985). The semantic difference is induced by the incorporation of the adposition, and can go from a subtle, perhaps untranslatable, semantic nuance to very significant changes in meaning.4 (b) A readjustment of the argument structure, a change of the valence pattern of the verbal base. For instance, an intransitive verb when coupled with a particle/applicative may increase its valence and become transitive. (c) The added DI may give a modal or an aspectual orientation to the verb, in which case there may be no strict creation of a new lexical entry.

3

The author is of the opinion that the basic meaning of dug4/e in this construction is not ‘to say’ but ‘to do’. 4 Spears 1993 provides a very good repertoire of such forms in English and of their semantic variation.

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525

Some methodological remarks are in order. Without dwelling on the better known obstacles to the writing of an adequate Sumerian grammar, such as lack of informants, insufficient phonological information, unavailable paraphrases, etc., there are a couple of methodological considerations relevant to the analysis of the particle + verbal base compounds. (a) First, the lack of information on the phonological and morphological segmentation of the so-called “verbal chain.” The traditional view is that everything preceding the verbal base is a series of prefixes, or proclitics, (the distinction between affix and clitic is of no immediate relevance here) dependent on a verbal base as its head. But there is another possibility: is there a preverb5 in the sense that the affixes, or clitics, are dependent of a head formed by a modal element plus a so-called conjugation prefix (with a voice-like function)? If the answer is affirmative, the affixes would be in fact suffixes, and there would be a phonological and morphological break just before the verbal base (P = pronominal element of the series: ø, e, n/b; # = pause/break): modal + (conjunctive) + voice ± DAT ± P ± COM ± P ± {ABL/ALL} ± {LOC1/LOC2} + P # Base + etc.

While the acceptation of this hypothesis would have important theoretical consequences for the morphology, it does not affect too seriously the following analysis, so it will not be further discussed here.6 The second point, however, has direct relevance to the problem. (b) If, anticipating the conclusions, one accepts the functional similarity between the Sumerian compound verbs of class II, i. e., the ones formed by DI + verbal base, and certain forms in other languages, namely the preverbs in classical Greek, and the so-called multi-word lexical verbs in English,7 one faces a very complex situation. The combinations particle + verbal base are true compounds that have extremely idiomatic meanings whose interpretation requires a knowledge of the context and of the communicative situation; here, the lack of Sumerian informants is a crucial ob5

In a sense somewhat different from the one encountered in the grammars of classical languages. 6 The pronominal infixes (series: -ø-, -e-, -n-, -b-) are found after a conjugation prefix (voice) where it can be doubtful whether they are dependent from this prefix of from a following DI; e. g. ba-e-da-, or ba-an-da-. They are different in any case from the pronominals immediately preceding the verbal base. 7 In what follows, the parallels will be taken mostly from these two languages, but Latin and German would do equally well, if not better. For Greek, see Brunel 1939 and Humbert 1972.

526

Verbal and Nominal Morphology in Sumerian

stacle. These compounds tend also to be ambiguous in the sense that true compounds tend to fade into free combinations, or collocations, where verb and particle keep their original meanings. They can even be both (Biber et al. 2002:123). It is often difficult to decide whether a given English construction is an intransitive phrasal verb (shut up, come on) or a free combination (come back, go in). Classical Greek, e. g., provides similar examples.8 3. Not all so-called Sumerian dimensional affixes (DI) are created equal, they all share some morphological properties and can be considered a morphological class, but functionally there are four subclasses, with quite different behavior: dative, comitative, directionals, and locatives (the last two subclasses with two members each). In the corpus used for the present inquiry there are more than 3400 instances of DIs: Table 1. Number of DIs in the corpus 1 dative 967 28.4% 2 comitative 415 12.2% 3a allative 185 5.5% 3b ablative 219 6.4% 4a locative 1 859 25.2% 4b locative 2 757 22.3%

The frequency of COM is seriously inflated by its written confusion with the ABL (see below). After briefly considering types 1 and 4, the discussion will be limited to examples of classes 2 and 3, because of their interest and because of time limitations. Suffice it to say that the dative signals mainly an extra valence, the presence of an indirect object (with a role of beneficiary, destination, etc.) as a verb argument, but there are also cases of the so-called “dative of interest,” not dependent on the valence pattern of the verb. Less known are a few rare functions, one of which will be seen presently. DI of class 4 (locatives) are extremely frequent: LOC1 besides its obvious peripheral, adverbial function, can be a syntactic marker of anaphoric interclausal connection (something similar to French y in j’y vais or pensez-y). None of these make a compound verb. LOC2 signals ditransitivity and is a real 8

I will refrain from quoting constructions from African or Australian languages, and the like. They provide theoretical linguistics with nice examples of chemically pure contrasts that make good blackboard illustrations, but in many cases sidestep background complexities, often unknown. Contrast the mature and nuanced discussions in Humbert 1972, for instance.

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applicative, its high frequency is due to its use in class I compound verbs, and similar constructions. It has been treated in Karahashi 2000, and will not be discussed here. This leaves the DIs of classes 2 and 3, the comitative and the locatives, respectively. 4. The comitative is a complex case. Some studies of cases, e. g., Blake 2001, Butt 2006, pay little attention to the comitative (a couple of pages in Blake, nothing in Butt), but Schlesinger 1995 devotes a long chapter to it (he considers comitatives most of the instrumentals, etc.), and there are even full studies devoted to it, e. g., Stolz 1993. In fact is a very frequent adposition in many languages: just count in the dictionaries the compounds of con- in Latin, and of συν- in Greek; even the English Collegiate Webster has more than 31 columns of mostly learned, non-native English words starting with con- (not counting the variant com-). Sumerian is more sober in its use of the comitative (see statistics), but presents graphic and phonological complications that affect its identification. It can be often confused (as a nominal postposition as well as a DI) with the ABL -tawhich in turn has a morphophonemic alternant -ra-, graphically identical with the 2s DAT. There are even cases where one cannot decide whether a verbal form has basically -da- or -ta-: Table 2. Finite forms of the verb gá-la—dag with -da/taSources with: gá-la ba-ra-ba-ta-dag-ge LUr 143 gá-la nu-um-da-dag-ge LA 182 gá-la nu-mu-un-da-dag-ge-en LA 140 gá-la nu-mu-un-ta-dag-ge Nu 115 gá-la nu-um-ta-dag-ge LSU 390 gá-la ši-me-da-dag-ge ŠIn 127

ta 1 0 1 1 2 0

da 0 1 1* 0 0 1

The verb gá-la—dag ‘to neglect’ puts its complement (the neglected object) in the ALL or LOC2 case.9 One may even wonder if COM and ABL had coalesced, at least partially, in OB Sumerian. The close similarity of instrumental and comitative roles could have been a contributing factor. One of the general features of COM (with-phrases) in English and other languages is precisely INSTR(ument), alongside ACCOMP(animent), and MANN(er) (Schlesinger 1995:61). The feature ACCOMP of -da- signals a symmetrical relation between two or more coordinated arguments. In principle all predicates that can 9

The semantic parallel mùš/muš—túm ‘to stop’ does not take any DI and so it does not help.

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Verbal and Nominal Morphology in Sumerian

take more than one subject or object can take the COM in this sense, with very few restrictions. It is not associated with particular lexical entries, except in the cases of reciprocal verbs, and the like. It may form a compound verb, or it may be a simple adverbial construction. [1] kiši8-gin7 ki-in-dar-ra ba-an-di-ni-ib-ku4-re-eš-àm ‘(the Anunas) went, like ants, into the crevices of the earth’ Lugalbanda 2:83.

Abilitative. It is a well-known function, already isolated by the native grammatical sources where pronoun + da is translated by Akk. le’û ‘to be able to’ (NBGT 1, 399–402). It is a modal meaning, and thus it does not form a compound verb. For details, see Gragg 1973:54. Transitivizer. The DI -da- can enable an intransitive predicate to take a direct object. For instance, the intransitive gál ‘to be somewhere’ contrasts with the transitive da-gál, ‘to have, to provide’: [2] urudagín gišapin dím nu-ù-da-gál ‘you do not provide the adze that builds plows’ Silver and Copper C:28. [3] a-na-zu mu-da-gál ‘what do you have/provide?’ Ewe and Grain 91. [4] al ak-dè gin-na al-šub ¶é-da-gál ‘having to go to work with a hoe, you have (instead) a mallet’ Dialogue 3:65.

Note that the translation ‘to provide’ interprets da-gál as a sort of causative. The transitivizing function of -da- can be seen also with other verbs such as ku4 ‘to enter’ or gen/du/re7 ‘to go/come.’ Examples of these verbs show the grammaticalization path of the transitivizer. [5] tum-ma-alki gipisan ninda ama dnin-líl-lá-kam é-gi6 tum-ma-alki ninda sá-dug4-ga-ta (for -da!) ur-sag dnin-urta den-líl-ra mu-na-da-an-ku4-ku4 máš-gi6 nisag en-na-ta kù dnin-in-si-na den-líl-ra mu-na-da-an-ku4-ku4 ‘The Tummal is the bread basket of Mother Ninlil, the Lady of the Tummal with the bread of the regular supplies goes-into-with (= brings in) it to Enlil’s warrior Ninurta. With (the message of) the dream and the first offerings, Holy Ninisina goes-into-with (brings) them to Enlil’ Song of the Hoe 38–42.

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[6] PN1 PN2 níg-šu-tag-ga PN3 dumu lugal-ka-da é dšará im-da-a-re-éš ‘PN1 and PN2 went to Š’s temple with the offerings of PN3, the princess’ JNES 63 (2004):209 (Ur III).

From constructions with the adposition in the nominals and in the verb, the language passed to constructions with no adposition in the nominals, but keeping the DI in the verb: NP-Post + DI-V → NP-ø + DI-V

Postpositions and DI are semantically, and at least in part phonologically identical, so there is a sort of concord. Concords imply a certain degree of redundancy and therefore tend to be unstable, leading in this case to the deletion of the nominal adposition. The two constructions still coexist in Ur III and OB times, showing a current, incomplete grammaticalization process. The transitivizing COM would be a good example of applicative. The OB native grammarians were aware of the transitivizing function of COM: in the paradigm of gar in OBGT 6, the affixed -da- is systematically translated by the Akkadian accusative suffix. Now, in OB Sumerian literary texts, gar does not take the COM: out of a sample of 291 occurrences of the verb gar in a limited corpus, there are only 6 instances of COM (2%), all of them easily explained by reasons other than the presence of a direct object: there are ACCOMP forms, combined with collocations like ér-re gar, or du6da gar, and so on. Lexical entries such as da-ri = našû ša almatti ‘to support a widow’ (Nabnitu 16:145),10 or the section an-da-gál in Izi A 3:7′–15′, confirm that the native scribes were aware of the phenomenon. 5. The directional cases 5.1. The ablative As already indicated, there are at times problems of identification. ABL is often written with the sign DA, but still more often it can be written with the sign RA (Gragg 1973:93 for the DI; Balke 2006, for the nominal postposition). Roughly, pre-Ur III and Gudea write the verbal affix as -ta(with exceptions, for instance, u4 2 u4 3 nu-ma-da-ab-zal Cyl A 23:2, and spellings of the -da-ra-ta- type). In Ur III documents -ra- is clearly dominant, again with exceptions: for instance, one, or more, Drehem scribes write ba-ta-zal, instead of the ubiquitous ba-ra-zal, from Šulgi 40 to Šulgi 46. In OB times the, already mentioned, alternation of TA and DA is quite frequent. Pseudo-ablatives include the copulative written -bi-ta, instead of -bi-da in Old Sumerian. 10

Compare the treatment of da-ri in Selz 1995.

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Verbal and Nominal Morphology in Sumerian

The very frequent compound gù—dé means ‘to address,’ ‘to call,’ the destinatary of the call is in the DAT (if a person), or LOC2 (if a nonperson), the information contents of the call (if any) is not specified. With the addition of ABL the verb becomes a new lexical entry meaning ‘to recite’ or ‘to read’ (i. e., ‘to recite from a tablet’); a new argument (the thing that is being recited or read) is added and marked for LOC2; the “audience” in Dialogue 1:61, below, has the ALL. [7] ad-da-mu im-šu-mu in-na-ra-dé-a ‘my father, I read my “hand tablet” to him’ Edubba A:10. [8] níg im-sar-re gù nu-ub-ta-dé-e ‘no one can read what he has written’ Dialogue 1:134. [9] šu nu-sag9 nu-sag9 ki nam-dub-sar-ra-šè gù nu-ra-dé-e ‘a hand(writing) not nice at all, no one can read it out in class’ Dialogue 1:61.

In the following passage, gù—ta-dé is probably to be analyzed as: -niri- < *-na+ta+LOC 2: [10] dub-sar ¶é-DU šu-ni ¶é-ib-dab5-bé nar ¶é-DU gù ¶u-mu-un-ni-ri-dé ‘if a scribe comes, let him put his hand to work, if a musician comes, let him1 recite to him2’ Šulgi B 312–313.11

Apparently not commented so far, is the use of -ta- in a sense obviously related to the instrumental meaning of the nominal postposition -ta. It is found in constructions of the type ‘to do something with something.’ The evolution of the argument patterns is: PN-ta instrument

PN-ø theme

V predicate

→

PN-ø instrument

PN-ø theme

ta-V predicate

E. g., leather pieces + (mouth of) jar (of contents) + ba-ra-kéš ‘to close (and tie) up’: [11] 1 kuš udu ú-¶ab ka dug ì-nun ba-ra-kéš ‘the opening(s) of jars of clarified butter were closed up with one brown sheep hide’ MVN 16, 768 (Ur III).

11

Note the ambiguity of the logogram DU that can be read also gub.

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531

[12] 20 kuš sila4 ka dug mun-gazi bal-a-ka ba-ra-kéš ‘the openings of jars transferring spices were closed up with 20 lamb hides’ UTI 3, 1724 (Ur III).

Similarly, reed bundles-ø + animal(s)-ø + ba-ra-šeg6 ‘to cook’: [13] 120 sa-gi gud 3 ba-ra-šeg6 50 sa-gi udu niga 10 ba-ra-šeg6 ‘3 oxen were cooked with 120 reed bundles 10 fat sheep were cooked with 50 reed bundles’ Whittier 1:5 (Ur III).

This construction is typical of Ur III accounts (it makes easier the listing and manipulation of numerical data), but is also found elsewhere: [14] den-ki-ke4 im abzu-a ba-al-gu7 ba-da-an-dím ‘Enki made up a turtle out of /with clay of the Abzu’ Ninurta and the Turtle 36.

Finally, the verb ù-ku-ku/ku4-ku4 ‘to sleep’ is appropriate to examine the behavior of the ALL (or Terminative) as a DI. This verb, always with a negative in its finite forms, because of a linguistic taboo, has often the ALL. The reason for the sleeplessness, if imputable to a person is in the DAT, a curious and infrequent meaning of this case: [15] á mu-e-a-ak šu-bi na-de5-ge ù ba-ra-ra-ku-ku-un ‘you depilate (yourself), cleaning those hands, I cannot sleep because of you’ Dialogue 5:5. [16] dam mu-lu du5-mu mu-lu dag-gi4-a ti-la ù nu-mu-un-na-ku-ku-ù-ne ‘the wife of a gentleman and the gentelman’s sons living in the ward cannot sleep because of her’ Dialogue 5:114.

It can also be in the ALL if it is a non-person, but without a crossreferencing DI (peripheral adverbial): [17] gá-e mu-zu-šè gi6-an-bará-ba ù dùg nu-mu-da-ku4-ku4-un ‘for your sake, I cannot sleep day or night’ Edubba B:121. [18] dnin-gal kalam-ma-ni-šè ù nu-ku-ku-ne ‘Ningal does not sleep for the sake of her country’ Ur Lament 81.

There are, however, a number of passages with the ALL infix that do not include the reason:

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Verbal and Nominal Morphology in Sumerian

[19] lú tur gibil-bi é-dù-gin7 igi-ni ù dùg-ga nu-ši-ku4-ku4 ‘like a young man building a house for the first time, his eyes cannot go to sleep’ Gudea Cyl A 19:23. [20] ki-sikil tur dag-gi4-a ti-la ù nu-mu-un-ši-ku-ku ‘the young girls living in the ward cannot go to sleep’ Dialogue 5:130; similarly in 157.

In such cases, the ALL infix has an ingressive meaning, it refers to the entry into a state or process: ‘to fall sleep, to go to sleep.’ In the preceding passages the subject is prevented from starting out the action described by the predicate. The modification of the meaning of the verbal base is here aspectual. Strictly speaking, this addition of -ši- does not create a compound verb. Somewhat similar is the opposite situation, i. e., the reference to the end point of a process, what one can call completive meaning.12 The infix -ta- with some verbs, for instance verbs of cutting, such as kudr and ¶aš, or of destruction, such as gul or ¶a-lam, can be shown to express this completive aspect: ‘to cut off ’ rather than simply ‘to cut,’ and ‘to anhilate,’ ‘to destroy completely’ rather than simply ‘to destroy.’ For morphophonemic, or merely graphic, reasons, the ABL in such cases is often written -da- and this has led to the erroneous idea that such verbs take the COM. Due to alternative ways of looking at the boundaries (A and B) of the event or state, there is an ambiguity that can lead to a switch of the affixes: perspective internal external

A process B ← ta šè/ši → šè/ši →

← ta

This is why in the case of ù ši-ku-ku the ALL with a terminative sense marks the onset of a state, and in the case of -ta-, the ABL marks the end of a change as, for instance, in ta-gul. Such constructions are thus aspectual, not verbal compounds. In conclusion, forms incorporating particles (or DI, or applicatives) to verbal bases can be true compound verbs, but also can be modal markers, or simply signal the presence of peripheral adverbial phrases in the sentence. To keep apart these various functions is not an easy task, and there is much to be done in a careful analysis of the semantics and pragmatics of Sumerian predicates with the ambition of finding out some day in Sumerian texts subtle differences of the order of Engl. to find vs. to find 12

Not to be confused with the completive theme of the verb.

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out. To end on a practical note, when parsing Sumerian sentences we will be well advised to follow this rule of thumb: “scan from right to left rather than from left to right.” References Balke 2006 Biber et al. 2002 Blake 2001 Brunel 1939 Butt 2006 Comrie 1985

Delitzsch 1914 Gragg 1973 Haspelmath– Müller-Bardey 2004

Humbert 1972 Karahashi 2000 Karahashi 2004 Schlesinger 1995 Selz 1995

Spears 1993 Stolz 1993

Balke, Th. E. Das sumerische Dimensionalkasussystem (AOAT 231). Münster. Biber, D.; Conrad, S.; Leech, G. (eds.). Longman Student Grammar of Spoken and Written English. Harlow. Blake, B. J. Case (Cambridge Textbooks in Linguistics). Cambridge. Brunel, J. L’aspect verbal et l’emploi des préverbes en grec, particulièrement en attique. Paris. Butt, M. Theories of Case (Cambridge Textbooks in Linguistics). Cambridge. Comrie, B. Aspect: An Introduction to the Study of Verbal Aspect and Related Problems (Cambridge Textbooks in Linguistics). Cambridge. Delitzsch, F. Grundzüge der sumerischen Grammatik. Leipzig. Gragg, G. B. Sumerian Dimensional Infixes (AOAT Sonderreihe 5). Neukirchen–Vlyn. Haspelmath, M.; Müller-Bardey, Th. Valence Change. Morphology: an International Handbook on Inflection and Word-Formation. 2. Berlin. Pp. 1130–1145. Humbert, J. Syntaxe grecque. Paris. Karahashi, F. Sumerian Compound Verbs with Body Parts. PhD. Diss. University of Chicago. Karahashi, F. Some Observations on Sumerian Compound Verbs. Or 39:96–110. Schlesinger, I. M. Cognitive Space and Linguistic Case: Semantic and Syntactic Categories in English. Cambridge. Selz, G. J. Maš-da-ři-a und Verwandtes. Ein Versuch über da—ři “an der Seite führen”: ein zusammengesetztes Verbum und einige nominal Ableitungen. ASJ 17:251–274. Spears, R. A. NTC’s Dictionary of Phrasal Verbs and Other Idiomatic Verbal Phrases. Lincolnwood. Stolz, Th. Über Komitative. Arbeitspaper Nr. 24 des Projektes “Prinzipien des Sprachwandels” der Universität Essen.

The Sumerian Verbal Prefixes im-ma- and im-miPaul Delnero The Johns Hopkins University

1. Introduction The form and function of the so-called “conjugation prefixes,” has been, and continues to be one of the most widely debated and inconclusively resolved issues in Sumerian grammar.1 Since Thureau-Dangin’s initial treatment of the topic in 1907,2 numerous theories about the usage of these elements have been proposed, but none have proven to be decisive. At the core of the difficulties involved in understanding the significance of the conjugation prefixes is the problem of identifying their morphological shape. Unlike nominal case endings, which, with only a few exceptions, are each written with the same cuneiform sign, many verbal elements appear to have been rendered in different graphic forms depending on their relative position within the verbal chain. As a result, it is difficult to determine, in some instances, whether forms that differ graphically represent distinct 1

This article is a revised and slightly modified version of a paper that was presented in a session on Sumerian grammar at the conference from which the articles in the present volume were drawn. At the time this paper was being prepared, Christopher Woods’ book on the Sumerian conjugation prefixes—Woods, C. The Grammar of Perspective: The Sumerian Conjugation Prefixes as a System of Voice. Leiden– Boston, 2008—was only available to me as a preliminary draft, which its author generously permitted me to consult in preparation for this study. Since Woods’ book contains a wealth of invaluable insights into the nature of some of the verbal prefixes treated in this article and will almost certainly replace all previous studies of the conjugation prefixes as the definitive work on this topic, it would greatly exceed the scope of the present study to discuss the ideas and theories put forth in it in detail and depth, especially on the points where there is a divergence from the views presented here. For this reason the content of Woods’ book will not be cited or discussed, except to note instances where a topic that is mentioned only in passing in this article is treated more extensively, in order to avoid redundancy. In particular, the reader is referred to Woods’ exemplary and thorough discussion of the prior literature on the subject of the conjugation prefixes for a summary of previous theories about these elements and a comprehensive overview of the extensive history of the debate about their function and meaning. 2 Thureau-Dangin 1907:380–404.

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grammatical elements, or whether they are variant writings of the same grammatical element, conditioned by the phonological, morphological, or grammatical context in which the element occurs. A clear, and relatively uncontested example of this ambiguity is the writing of the locative infix /n(i)/ and the writing of the pre-verbal element /n/, used to mark the third, singular animate agent of a transitive, ¶am¢u verbal form.3 The former, which can be written as -ni- or with a -Vn- sign, depending on its position in the verbal chain, is graphically indistinguishable from the latter when it directly precedes the verbal base, since both the locative infix /n(i)/ and the pronominal element /n/ are written with a -Vn- sign in this position. The ambiguity between different writings of the same grammatical element and graphically identical writings of different grammatical elements contributes not only to the difficulty of identifying the morphological shape of the conjugation prefixes, but also, at a more basic level, of determining which elements should be classified as prefixes of this type. The term “conjugation prefix,” which was originally coined by Landsberger,4 is typically applied to describe the group of prefixes that occur at the beginning of Sumerian verbal forms. But since these prefixes are written after modal prefixes, like ¶e2-, ga-, nu-, na-, or bara-, and do not always occur at the beginning of the verbal chain, the relative position of a grammatical element is not a sufficient criterion for determining whether a prefix belongs to this group. Moreover, since the function and range of meanings of these prefixes are still widely disputed, there continues to be disagreement about which, and even how many, prefixes should be assigned to this group. The prefixes that have been classified as conjugation prefixes vary from as few as two: ba- and mu-5 to as many as

3

Throughout this study the terms marû and ¶am¢u are used as they are conventionally applied in most grammatical studies of Sumerian to describe only the two primary morphological shapes of the verbal base in finite verbal forms, disregarding the controversial question of the exact function and range of these two conjugations. For a current and more detailed discussion of the meaning and the application of these terms to the Sumerian verb see Edzard 2003:73–89. 4 See Falkenstein 1949:179, who cites Scholtz 1934:2 as the first to adopt Landsberger’s term in writing. This reference is also noted in Woods 2008, where the previous literature and the history of the debate about the function and meaning of the “conjugation prefixes” are described and discussed in more extensive detail. 5 See Postgate 1974:20, 24, who classifies ba- and mu- as “Rank 2” or “conjugation prefixes,” and argues that these two prefixes have a different rank and function than the “Rank 1” prefixes i- and ø-.

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seven: i3-/a-, mu-, ba-, imma-/amma-, immi-/ammi-, bi2-, and al-6 or /i/, /a/, /al/, /m/, /mu/, /ba/ = /b/ + /a/, and /bi/ = /b/ + /i/;7 although, in most studies it is generally assumed that there are between three (mu-, ba-, and i(3)-)8 and four (mu-, ba-, i(3)-, and im-ma-).9 The ambiguity of the morphological shape of the conjugation prefixes contributes significantly to the differing views about which elements are prefixes of this type. It is not always clear, for example, whether some of the elements that have been classified as conjugation prefixes are independent prefixes or merely phonological components of another prefix, as has been argued for the element i-, which has been interpreted as a phonological component of the prefix im-, understood to be an alternate form of the conjugation prefix mu-.10 In addition, there are also instances in which it is unclear whether an element that has been classified as a conjugation prefix is a single prefix or a composite prefix consisting of both a conjugation prefix and another grammatical element, as has been argued for bi2-, which has been interpreted as a writing of the conjugation prefix ba- followed by the directive element /i/.11 This ambiguity is particularly evident, however, in the case of the verbal prefixes im-ma- and im-mi-. The morphological identity of these two forms remains enigmatic, in spite of the many theories that have been proposed, and is the subject of a contentious debate that has yet to lead to a consensus concerning even the most basic aspects of their morphology. Moreover, unlike the opposing views about the morphological shape of some of the other conjugation prefixes like mu- and ba-, which are typically confined to only two contrary interpretations—whether these forms should be analysed as one or two elements—the theories about the morphological identity of im-ma- and im-mi- differ substantially with respect to both how many and which elements these forms contain. To cite only the more recent theories that have been put forward, there is still disagreement as to whether each of these forms represents a single prefix—a minimalist position proposed by Gragg,12 and more recently 6

Gragg 1973b:8. Attinger 1993:204, 262. 8 Cf. Gragg 1973a:93. 9 Cf. Karahashi 2000:117 and Michalowski 2004:44. 10 See Krecher 1985. 11 Karahashi 2000. 12 Gragg 1973a:93; cf. however, Gragg 1973b:71, where Gragg tentatively suggests that im-ma- and im-mi- are “compound conjugation prefixes,” consisting of more than one grammatical element. 7

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adopted by Karahashi13 and Woods14—or as many as four elements: a conjugation prefix /i/, the ventive element /m/, the third singular pronominal element /b/, and the locative or locative-terminative elements /a/ and /i/—as argued by Black,15 Wilcke,16 and Attinger.17 Others, following Krecher, prefer to see the im- in these forms as an allomorph of the conjugation prefix mu- written with the locative or locative-terminative elements /a/ and /i/,18 and Michalowski has even suggested interpreting imma- as a reduplicated form of mu-.19 One reason for the lack of consensus about the morphological identity of im-ma- and im-mi- is the nature of the arguments that have been adduced in support of the theories that have been proposed about it. Many of these theories have focused only on evidence that seems to support the morphological analysis being put forward, while neglecting to consider all of the evidence that could be brought to bear on the argument, including possible evidence to the contrary. Although each of these views has been supported by examples of im-ma- and im-mi- appearing in apparent complementary distribution with the verbal elements they are being argued to contain, none has systematically considered their relation to all of the other elements with which they could conceivably be related. Since it is not possible to establish the morphological shape of im-ma- and im-mi- accurately without considering this aspect of their usage, however, it is first necessary to compare the distribution of these forms to the distribution of the other prefixes that have been argued to have similar functions. In this article the distribution of im-ma- and im-mi- will be investigated and compared with the distribution of mu-, ba- and bi2-, the verbal prefixes with which they are most frequently associated in theories about their morphological identity. Since it would be beyond the scope of this study to examine all of the attestations of these elements in texts from different periods and textual genres, this study will focus instead on the distribution of these prefixes in a smaller, more narrowly confined corpus of ten literary compositions known collectively as the Decad. This group comprises the following texts:

13

Karahashi 2000:117. Woods 2008. 15 Black 1986:78. 16 Wilcke 1988:49. 17 Attinger 1993:261. 18 Krecher 1985:141. 19 Michalowski 2004:44. 14

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1) ŠA: A praise poem of Šulgi (Šulgi A)20 2) LiA: A praise poem of Lipit-Eštar (Lipit-Eštar A)21 3) Al: The song of the hoe22 4) InB: The exaltation of Inana (Inana B)23 5) EnA: Enlil in the E-kur (Enlil A)24 6) KH: The Keš temple hymn25 7) ErH: Enki’s journey to Nibru26 8) IEb: Inana and Ebi¶27 9) Nu: A hymn to Nungal (Nungal A)28 10) GH: Gilgameš and Huwawa (Version A)29 These compositions, which were copied extensively during the Old Babylonian Period, were selected because each of the lines in these texts is preserved in an average of fifteen to thirty copies, providing an abundant source of comparative data for distinguishing intended forms from erroneous variants.30 Furthermore, since complete scores of all of the texts in this group could be consulted,31 it was not necessary to rely on composite texts in studying the distribution of the elements being considered in this study.32

20

ETCSL 2.4.2.01. ETCSL 2.5.5.1. 22 ETCSL 5.5.4. 23 ETCSL 4.07.2. 24 ETCSL 4.05.1. 25 ETCSL 4.80.2. 26 ETCSL 1.1.4. 27 ETCSL 1.3.2. 28 ETCSL 4.28.1. 29 ETCSL 1.8.1.5. 30 For a more detailed discussion of the use of the Decad as a corpus for studying Sumerian grammar and for further references to selected treatments of the individual compositions in this group of texts see Delnero 2007:116–118, with notes 5–15, and Delnero 2006:22–24, with notes 17–27. For treatments of the Decad as a group of compositions and its use and significance in the Old Babylonian scribal curriculum see Tinney 1999, Robson 2001, Black et al. 2004:299– 301, and Delnero 2006:22–147 (with additional literature). 31 Delnero 2006:1857–2473. 32 For a discussion about the limitations of composite texts and the importance of scores in analysing grammatical forms in Sumerian literary compositions see Delnero 2007:106–111; for a description of how the scores for the Decad in Delnero 2006 were compiled, see Delnero 2007:218–219 and Delnero 2006:175–177. 21

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Since the corpus utilized in this study is limited to a small group of texts from a single period, the purpose of the present study is not to propose a definitive explanation for the morphology of im-ma- and im-mithat accounts for every occurrence of these forms in all texts and periods, but to put forward a hypothesis about the morphology and function of these prefixes which is derived from the correlations observed in these texts that can be tested and refined by examining the usage of these forms in texts outside this corpus. On the basis of this investigation, it will be suggested that im-ma- and im-mi- are the forms that resulted when the prefixes ba- and bi2- were written together with i-, an element that is frequently conflated with i3-, but which seems to have been a separate prefix that was used with verbal forms to indicate a sequence of events. 2. The distribution of mu-, ba-, bi2-, im-ma- and im-miBefore examining the distribution of im-ma- and im-mi-, the elements mu-, ba-, and bi2- will be considered. Leaving aside the question of function, there appear to be at least five basic factors that can condition the occurrence of mu-, ba-, and bi2-. These are: 1. The transitivity of the verb with which they occur. 2. The other infixes in the verbal chain. 3. The total number of participants involved in the verbal clause. 4. Whether the verbal form is ¶am¢u or marû. 5. The semantic relationship between the verb and its dimensional complements. Most of the remainder of this article will be devoted to discussing the different ways in which these factors appear to influence the distribution of the five prefixes being investigated. In the following sections, examples of forms in the Decad that are conditioned by these factors will be cited to illustrate the manner in which each of these factors seems to govern the usage of the prefixes examined.33 Since the purpose of this study is only 33

All of the examples cited in this study follow the line numbering of the scores of the Decad in Delnero 2006:1857–2473. Since in numbering the lines for these scores, only lines that occur in the majority of extant sources were numbered with whole numbers, whereas lines that occur in less than half of the preserved sources were given lettered numbers (e. g., 48a, 56b, etc.), the line numbers do not always correspond exactly to the line numberings for these compositions in the ETCSL corpus. To facilitate identifying these lines in the ETCSL corpus, the line numbers that are not identical are noted here (the number to the

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to suggest general patterns in the usage of these prefixes, analysis and discussion of the specific examples cited are intentionally kept to a minimum. 2a. The prefix muOf the three prefixes treated in this section, the verbal prefix mu- appears the most frequently, occurring with a total of 271 verbal forms in the Decad.34 Apart from ten forms whose transitivity could not be determined with certainty, 220 of these forms are unambiguously transitive,35

left of “=” is the line number used in this study, and the number to the right is the corresponding ETCSL line number): ŠA: 30a = 31; 31–36 = 32–37; 36a = 38; 37–49 = 39–51; 49a = 52; 50–99 = 53–102. InB: 125 = 129; 126 = 133; 127 = 128; 128 = 129; 129 = 127; 130 = 131; 131 = 132; 132 = 125; 133 = 126. KH: 36a = 37; 37–50 = 38–51; 50a = 52; 51–94 = 53–96; 95 = 96a; 96–116 = 97–117; 115a = 118; 116a = 119; 117–131 = 120–134. ErH: 63a–c = 69–71; 69–124 = 72–127; 125 = 128–129. IEb: 18–126 = 19–127; 127 = 128–129; 128–181 = 130–183. GH: 37a1–37f1 = 38–43; 38 = 44; 38a = 45; 39 = 46; 40–156 = 47–163; 156a–f = 164–169; 157–169 = 170–182; 169a–b = 183–184; 170 = 185; 170a = 186; 171–186 = 187–202. 34 ŠA: 21, 28, 29, 42, 43, 45, 56, 60, 63, 68, 69, 70, 73, 74, 75, 77, 80, 87, 881, 882, 90, 91; LiA: 24, 28, 34, 921, 922, 101, 103, 106; Al: 8, 9, 16, 17, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 29, 30, 31, 34, 40, 42, 47, 48, 54, 58, 65, 90, 103, 1051, 1052; InB: 71, 72, 81, 16, 22, 25, 30, 35, 37, 65, 66, 69, 70, 75, 76, 79, 81, 831, 832, 881, 882, 89, 901, 902, 107, 1171, 1172, 119, 137, 141, 149, 150, 151; EnA: 7, 8, 19, 25, 27, 64, 73, 79, 80, 82, 83, 87, 96, 99, 103, 1061, 1062, 107, 108, 113, 116, 117, 118, 130, 154, 1631, 1632, 164; KH: 5, 6, 7, 20etc, 57, 58, 59, 60, 75, 77, 78, 79, 80, 113, 114, 119, 120; ErH: 10, 17, 60, 61, 66, 691, 692, 74, 75, 76, 79, 80, 81, 82, 93, 102, 109, 113, 114, 116, 117; IEb: 38//97, 51//110, 601, 602, 62, 80, 82, 83, 111, 117, 118, 122, 123, 124, 126, 127, 128, 138, 142, 145, 1581, 1582, 160, 161, 170, 172, 173, 174; Nu: 20, 21, 28, 30, 34, 38, 39, 44, 451, 452, 47, 49, 52, 53, 54, 56, 60, 64, 66, 70, 71, 72, 76, 77, 78, 83, 85, 86, 91, 93, 96, 103, 104, 105, 106, 107, 108, 110, 115; GH: 3, 8, 16, 19, 28, 38, 44, 51, 53, 63, 671, 672, 681, 682, 73, 75, 80, 90, 911, 912, 921, 922, 96, 104, 109, 116, 117, 129, 132, 133, 136, 138, 139, 141, 142, 144, 147, 1491, 1492, 1501, 1502, 1503, 151, 153, 156, 162, 163, 164, 165. 35 ŠA: 21, 28, 29, 42, 43, 45, 56, 63, 68, 69, 70, 73, 74, 75, 77, 87, 881, 882, 90, 91; LiA: 24, 28, 34, 921, 922, 101, 103, 106; Al: 8, 9, 16, 17, 20, 21, 23, 24, 25, 29, 30, 31, 34, 47, 48, 54, 58, 65, 103, 1051, 1052; InB: 71, 72, 81, 16, 22, 30, 37, 65, 75, 76, 79, 81, 831, 832, 881, 882, 89, 902, 107, 119, 137, 141, 149, 150, 151; EnA: 19, 25, 27, 64, 73, 82, 83, 87, 96, 103, 1061, 1062, 107, 108, 113, 116, 117, 118, 130, 154, 1631, 1632, 164; KH: 7, 20etc, 57, 58, 59, 60, 75, 77, 78, 79, 80, 113, 114;

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whereas only 41 forms are clearly intransitive.36 This suggests that there is a greater tendency for verbal forms with mu- to be transitive instead of intransitive. A second factor, which seems to have influenced the occurrence of mu- more directly, is the type of verbal infixes with which it co-occurs. In this corpus, mu- is attested frequently with dative infixes and dimensional infixes with animate referents. A total of 57 of the forms with mu- contain the third and second singular dative infixes -na- and -ra-.37 In addition mu- occurs with the comitative infix -da- in 45 forms,38 with the terminative infix -ši- in 7 forms,39 and with the infix /ni/, analyzed as the third singular animate pronoun /n/ and a directional element /i/, in 17 forms.40 In all of these instances, with the exception of seven forms in which -dais used non-referentially with an abilitative meaning,41 these infixes have an animate referent. Examples of mu- occurring with each of these types of infixes include the following: Co-occurrence with an (animate) dative infix (1) gala-ra kušub3 li-li-is3 mu-na-šum2 (IEb 173)—transitive; 3rd singular dative ‘I gave ub and lilis drums to the gala performer.’

ErH: 17, 61, 691, 692, 74, 75, 76, 79, 81, 93, 102, 109, 113, 114, 116, 117; IEb: 38//97, 51//110, 601, 602, 80, 82, 83, 111, 127, 128, 138, 142, 145, 1581, 1582, 160, 161, 170, 172, 173, 174; Nu: 20, 21, 28, 30, 34, 39, 44, 451, 47, 49, 52, 53, 54, 56, 60, 64, 66, 70, 71, 72, 76, 77, 78, 83, 85, 86, 91, 93, 96, 103, 105, 110, 115; GH: 3, 8, 16, 19, 38, 44, 53, 671, 672, 681, 682, 80, 90, 911, 912, 921, 922, 109, 116, 117, 129, 133, 138, 141, 142, 144, 147, 1491, 1492, 1501, 1502, 1503, 151, 153, 156, 162, 163, 164, 165. 36 ŠA: 60, 80; Al: 22, 40, 42, 90; InB: 25, 35, 66, 69, 901; EnA: 7, 8, 79, 80, 99; KH: 6, 119, 120; ErH: 10, 60, 66; IEb: 117, 118, 122, 123, 124, 126; Nu: 38, 452, 106, 108; GH: 28, 51,63, 73, 75, 96, 104, 136, 139. 37 Al: 22, 29, 40, 42, 65, 103; InB: 65, 75, 76, 81, 832, 119, 141, 150, 151; EnA: 7, 8, 83, 87, 107, 108; KH: 5, 6, 7; ErH: 10, 60, 66, 76, 114; IEb: 601, 602, 111, 128, 172, 173; Nu: 30, 38, 105, 106; GH: 3, 16, 67, 68, 104, 117, 129, 132, 133, 136, 138, 142, 147, 153, 162, 163, 164, 165. 38 ŠA: 77, 80; LiA: 34, 103; Al: 25, 40, 42, 47, 48, 54, 58, 65; InB: 30, 70, 79, 89, 107; EnA: 73, 1061, 1062, 107, 1631, 1632, 164; KH: 80; ErH: 80; IEb: 80, 831, 832, 126, 127; Nu: 28, 34, 47, 52, 70, 71, 85, 86; GH: 28, 51, 63, 75, 96, 139. 39 Al: 20, 21; InB: 35, 66, 90; IEb: 160; GH: 116. 40 Al: 24, 31; EnA: 103, 113; KH: 20etc, 79; ErH: 102; IEb: 174; GH: 8, 19, 67, 682, 90, 91, 92, 109, 156. 41 ErH: 80; IEb: 83, 126, 127; Nu: 34; GH: 28, 96.

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(2) an-ub-da-limmu2 den-lil2-ra kiri6-gin7 mu-na-sig7 (KH 6)—intrans.; 3rd sg. dat. ‘The four world corners became green like an orchard for Enlil.’ (3) gala-e an-bar-ka šu ¶u-mu-ra-ab-gi4-gi4 (InB 141)—2nd sg. dat. ‘The gala performers should repeat it to you at midday.’

Co-occurrence with the verbal element -da- (comitative/abilitative) (4) … a2 gal mu-da-a×2-e (Nu 86)—referential, 1st sg. ‘… (Birtum) gives important instructions to me.’ (5) e2-gal an-ne2 ki ×ar-×ar-am3 kaš ¶u-mu-un-di-ni-na× (ŠA 77)— refer., 3rd sg. ‘At the palace that An founded, I drank beer with (Utu).’ (6) lu2 sukud-ra2 an-še3 nu-mu-da-la2 (GH 28)—non-referential, abilitative ‘No tall person is able to reach the heavens.’

Co-occurrence with the element -ni- = /n/ + /i/ (7) dingir na-me igi nu-mu-ni-in-du8 (EnA 103) ‘No god can look upon (Enlil).’ (8) en-ki-du10-e dGIŠ.BIL2-ga-mes-ra inim mu-ni-ib-gi4-gi4 (GH 156) ‘Enkidu replied to Gilgamesh.’

Co-occurrence with -ši-, with an animate referent (9) den-lil2-še3 kalam-ma-ni ki mu-un-ši-in-dar-re (Al 20) ‘Enlil’s land breaks through the soil toward him.’ (10) igi mu-ši-in-bar igi uš2-a-kam (GH 116) ‘(When) he looks toward you, it is the look of death.’

A third conditioning factor is the number of participants or arguments involved in the verbal clause. The influence of this factor is particularly evident in instances in which the verbal form is transitive and does not contain a dimensional infix. In contrast to ba- and bi2-, which nearly always have at least three participants with transitive verbs, 43 of the 48 forms with mu- of this type have only two participants—an agent and a direct object42—and the remaining five have a spatial complement 42 ŠA: 28, 29, 42, 43, 45, 68, 69, 73, 74, 75, 881, 882; LiA: 28, 92; Al: 8, 9, 16; InB: 71, 81, 16, 881, 882, 90, 137, 149; EnA: 154; KH: 57, 58; ErH: 691, 692, 117; IEb: 138, 170; Nu: 53, 64, 72, 78, 91; GH: 44, 144, 1501, 1502, 1503.

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marked with the terminative element -še3,43 but never the locative or locative-terminative case endings. Examples of two-participant constructions with mu- include the following: (11) danna ¶u-mu-gi-en … (ŠA 29)—¶am¢u ‘I put down double-hour markers …’ (12) dumu-×u10 e2 mu-un-du3 lugal den-ki-ke4 (ErH 117)—¶am¢u ‘My son, king Enki, built a house.’ (13) e2-×u10 lu2 si-sa2 mu-un-u3-tu lu2 lul mu-un-te-en-te-en (Nu 103)— marû ‘My house gives birth to righteous people, (but it) annihilates wicked people.’

Another observable factor is the conjugation of the verbal form. 109 of the 220 transitive forms with mu- (or approximately 50 percent of these forms) are in the marû conjugation,44 a significantly higher percentage than the number of marû forms with ba- and bi2-, which are attested with marû forms in less than fifteen percent of their occurrences. Although mu- can occur with marû forms of all types, these occurrences are particularly common with verbal forms that also contain the locative infix /ni/. Out of the 98 forms with mu- and /ni/,45 45 are marû,46 accounting for almost half of the marû forms with mu-. Examples include the following:

43

InB: 72; ErH: 93; Nu: 44, 66; GH: 151. ŠA: 90, 91; LiA: 103, 106; Al: 20, 24, 25, 30, 31, 103, 1051, 1052; InB: 30, 37, 76, 79, 141, 151; EnA: 19, 25, 27, 64, 73, 83, 87, 1062, 107, 108, 113, 116, 117, 118, 130, 1631, 1632, 164; KH: 59, 60, 75, 77, 78, 79, 113, 114; ErH: 17, 61, 74, 75, 76, 79, 81, 102, 109, 113, 114; IEb: 51//110, 602, 80, 82, 83, 111, 127, 128, 1582, 160, 161; Nu: 20, 21, 30, 34, 39, 47, 49, 52, 54, 56, 60, 70, 71, 76, 77, 86, 93, 96, 103, 105, 110, 115; GH: 3, 8, 16, 19, 38, 53, 671, 672, 681, 682, 90, 109, 117, 129, 133, 141, 149, 153, 156, 162, 165. 45 ŠA: 21, 56, 60, 63, 70, 77, 87, 90, 91; LiA: 24, 92, 101, 103, 106; Al: 17, 24, 30, 40, 42, 90, 1051, 1052; InB: 66, 69, 83, 89, 90, 1171, 1172; EnA: 19, 25, 27, 64, 73, 79, 80, 82, 96, 99, 116, 117, 118, 130; KH: 7, 59, 60, 75, 77, 78, 113, 114, 119, 120; ErH: 17, 61, 66, 74, 75, 79, 109, 113, 116; IEb: 38//97, 80, 82, 111, 117, 118, 122, 123, 124, 126, 142, 145, 158; Nu: 28, 30, 451, 452, 49, 71, 76, 77, 83, 85, 93, 104; GH: 38, 53, 73, 80, 91, 92, 132, 136, 141, 149. 46 ŠA: 90, 91; LiA: 101, 103, 106; Al: 24, 30, 1051, 1052; EnA: 19, 25, 27, 64, 73, 116, 117, 118, 130; KH: 59, 60, 75, 77, 78, 113, 114; ErH: 17, 61, 74, 75, 79, 109, 113; IEb: 80, 82, 111, 158; Nu: 30, 49, 71, 76, 77, 93; GH: 38, 53, 141. 44

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(14) den-lil2 a-ra-zu-a mu-ni-in-¶un-e-ne (Al 24) ‘(The Anuna) appeased Enlil with supplication.’ (15) ku6 engur-ra-ke4 ×iš-gi-a nunuz nu-mu-ni-ib-nu2-nu2 (EnA 118) ‘The freshwater fish would not lay eggs in the canebrake.’

The fifth and final factor is semantic. There are at least 15 instances in which verbal forms with mu- seem to have a first singular goal, expressing an action directed toward the speaker—a function analogous to that of the Akkadian ventive.47 Two examples include: (16) nin me-en an-ne2 nam mu-un-tar … (Nu 64) ‘I am a queen, An determined (my) fate (for me) …’ (17)

d GIŠ.BIL2-ga-mes zi an-na mu-un-pad3 zi ki-a mu-un-pad3 zi kur-ra mu-un-pad3 (GH 150) ‘Gilgamesh swore by the life of heaven (to me), he swore by the life of earth (to me), and he swore by the life of the mountains (to me).’

2b. The prefix baAfter mu-, the prefix ba- is the second most common verbal prefix in the Decad, occurring with a total of 155 verbal forms.48 There are, however, notable differences in the distribution of these two prefixes: First, while ba-, like mu-, is attested with both transitive and intransitive forms, ba- occurs with 99 transitive forms (or 63 percent of the total number of forms with ba-),49 and with 45 intransitive forms (or 29 per47

ŠA: 45, 74; LiA: 28, 101; InB: 90; IEb: 51//110; Nu: 64, 66, 93, 96, 110; GH: 44, 1501, 1502, 1503. 48 ŠA: 2, 23, 24, 25, 33, 34, 41, 48, 50, 51, 52, 57, 58, 671, 672, 85, 86; LiA: 64; Al: 10, 11, 32, 33, 57, 60; InB: 10, 19, 36, 42, 59, 70, 71, 72, 76, 77, 86, 87, 93, 94, 95, 104, 105, 145, 146, 1471, 1472, 1473, 148; EnA: 11, 18, 28, 37, 71, 119, 160, 169; ErH: 1, 6, 12, 65, 71, 72, 951, 952, 96, 97, 99, 1111, 1112, 112, 118; IEb: 8, 36//95, 37//96, 39//981, 39//982, 40//99, 41//100, 45//104, 47//106, 48//107, 531, 532, 54, 55, 56, 62, 66, 84, 85, 88, 89, 90, 121, 130, 131, 137, 139, 140, 141, 146, 162, 163, 175, 176, 177; Nu: 21, 26, 39, 56, 58, 59, 61, 75, 78, 92, 99; GH: 4//30, 15, 231, 232, 241, 242, 29, 34, 35, 41, 42, 46, 711, 712, 82, 891, 892, 99, 104, 1051, 1052, 106, 107, 118, 1191, 1192, 140, 142, 145, 154, 170, 177, 178, 179, 180, 181, 182, 183, 184. 49 ŠA: 23, 24, 25, 33, 34, 50, 51, 52, 671, 672, 85, 86; LiA: 64; Al: 10, 11, 32, 33, 60; InB: 72, 76, 77, 86, 87, 93, 94, 95, 104, 105, 145, 146; EnA: 11, 18, 37, 71, 119; ErH: 6, 12, 65, 96, 97, 99, 112, 118; IEb: 8, 36//95, 37//96, 39//981, 39//982, 40//99, 41//100, 45//104, 47//106, 48//107, 531, 532, 54, 55, 56, 66, 84, 85, 88, 89, 90, 121, 130, 131, 139, 140, 141, 146, 162, 163, 175, 176, 177; Nu: 56, 75; GH:

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cent of the total number of occurrences of ba-),50 a significantly higher ratio of transitive to intransitive forms than the ratio of transitive to intransitive forms with mu-. Second, ba- tends to occur with different infixes. Unlike mu-, which occurs frequently with dative infixes, there are only three occurrences of ba- with a dative infix, and all of these are in passive constructions in the composition InB,51 suggesting that they are exceptional. By contrast, baoccurs in a total of 19 forms with the ablative element -ra- and its allomorphs -da- and -ta-52—a much higher frequency than mu-, which only occurs with the ablative element in five forms, all of which are in Nu,53 and two of which are with the verb ×al2--tak4 ‘to open.’54 Furthermore, in every instance in which ba- is attested with a dimensional infix that also occurs with mu-, it has an inanimate instead of an animate referent. Examples of ba- with the ablative element and with -ši- with an inanimate referent include: Co-occurrence with the ablative element (18) u3-ma gub-gub-ba e2-ta ba-ra-an-e3-en (InB 104) ‘Standing there triumphantly, he threw me out of the temple.’ (19) bara2 nam-¶e2 e2-kur e2 za-gin3 sa¶ar-ta ba-ra-an-il2 (EnA 37) ‘(Enlil) caused the throne of abundance, the Ekur, the shining temple, to rise out of the dust.’

Co-occurrence with -ši-, with an inanimate referent (20) diškur-gin7 ki šeg11 gi4-a-za dašnan la-ba-ši-×al2 (InB 10) ‘Ašnan is not present where you screamed like Iškur.’ (21) a2 ma¶-bi-še3 gu4 ma¶ ga-ba-ši-ib-gub (IEb 36//95) ‘I want to place large siege engines against (Ebi¶’s) large side.’

4//30, 15, 34, 35, 41, 42, 82, 891, 892, 104, 140, 145, 170, 177, 178, 179, 180, 181, 182, 183, 184. 50 ŠA: 2, 41, 48, 57, 58; InB: 10, 19, 36, 70, 71, 1471; EnA: 28, 160; ErH: 1, 71, 72, 951, 952, 1111, 1112; IEb: 62, 137; Nu: 26, 39, 58, 59, 61, 78, 92; GH: 231, 232, 29, 46, 711, 712, 99, 1051, 1052, 106, 107, 118, 1191, 1192, 142, 154. 51 InB: 76, 146, and 1471. 52 ŠA: 24, 25, 671, 672; InB: 86, 87, 94, 95, 104, 105; EnA: 28, 37; ErH: 112, 118; Nu: 26, 39, 61, 78; GH: 4//30. 53 Nu: 20, 21, 107, 108, and 115. 54 Nu: 20 and 21.

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The most apparent difference between ba- and mu-, though, is the number of participants involved in specific types of constructions with ba-. In each of the 23 instances in which ba- occurs with the locative infix /ni/,55 for example, there are consistently at least four participants. As shown in the following examples, the first participant is always the agent of a transitive verb, the second is the nominal component of a compound verb, the third is the second syntactic object after the verb’s nominal component, and the fourth is a spatial or adverbial complement, usually, but not always, marked with the locative element /a/: (22) e2 … gal-le-eš ku3-sig17-ga šu-tag ba-ni-in-du11 (ErH 11–12) ‘He ornamented the house magnificently with gold.’ (23) zi-pa-a×2 ku3-ga-na na4-gug gi-rin-na si ba-ni-in-sa2 (IEb 55) ‘She arranged luminous carnelian (beads) around her holy throat.’ (24) uruki-na lu2 dili-gin7 si gu3 ba-ni-in-ra (GH 41) ‘He sounded the horn in his city (to call) for single men.’

Since bi2- never occurs with /ni/, and all of the forms with mu- and /ni/ in this corpus have only three participants, using the prefixes ba-ni- in the verbal chain seems to have been a standard means of constructing four-participant clauses in these compositions. A similar contrast in usage can also be observed in forms with bawithout /ni/. While almost all of the forms of mu- without /ni/ are twoparticipant constructions, and mu- never occurs without /ni/ in intransitive constructions in this corpus, all of the forms of ba- without /ni/ are three-participant constructions when the verb is transitive, and either two-participant intransitive or one-participant passive constructions when it is not, as illustrated by the following examples: Three-participant transitive constructions (without /ni/) (25) den-lil2-le ×išal-a-ni za3-mi2 ba-an-du11 (Al 11)—¶am¢u ‘Enlil praised his hoe.’ (26) am-gal-gin7 kur gu2-erim2-×al2-la u3-na ba-gub-be2-en (IEb 8)— marû ‘Like a bull, you stand ready to attack the enemy lands.’

55

ŠA: 51, 52; ErH: 6, 12, 65, 96, 97, 99; IEb: 47//106, 54, 55, 56, 66, 88, 89, 90, 141, 162, 163; GH: 35, 41, 42, 170.

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Intransitive/passive constructions (without /ni/) (27) kaš ba-na× kurun2 ba-du10-ga-ta (ErH 111)—one-participant/passive ‘After beer was drunk and wine was enjoyed.’ (28) kur ba-sa¶4-sa¶4 … (GH 71)—one-participant/passive ‘The mountains were obscured …’ (29) den-ki(-ke4) kaš-kaš-e ba-te kurun2-kurun2 ba-te (ErH 95)— two-part./ intransitive ‘Enki approached the beer (and) he approached the wine.’

The final observable difference between mu- and ba- is semantic. In addition to forms with the ablative infix, there are also a number of attestations of ba- without this element that seem to express movement away from the speaker. These include occurrences of ba- with the verb kar ‘to take away from’56 and ×in in a context in which it clearly denotes ‘going back,’ as opposed to ‘going to.’57 Similarly, the verb nam--ku5 ‘to curse,’ which occurs three times in this corpus with the prefix ba-,58 seems to have an inherently separative meaning. The usage of ba- with these verbs, illustrated in the following examples, is the exact inverse of that of mu- when mu- is used to express movement toward the speaker: (30) nam lugal-an-ne2 munus-e ba-ab-kar-re (InB 77) ‘The woman should take away the fate of Lugal-Ane.’ (31) en-ki-du10 mušen dab5-ba ki-bi-še3 ¶a-ba-×in (GH 154) ‘Enkidu, the caged-bird should fly (back) home.’ (32) … ×iš-bi nam ba-an-ku5 (IEb 146) ‘… (Inana) cursed its trees.’

2c. The prefix bi2Of the three prefixes discussed in this section, bi2- appears with the least frequency, occurring with a total of only 67 forms in the Decad.59 Its distribution, however, is the clearest and the most consistent. Unlike forms 56

InB: 77 and 86. GH: 154. 58 InB: 95; IEb: 48//107, 146. 59 ŠA: 29, 301, 302, 49; LiA: 94, 96; InB: 8, 51, 52, 53, 69, 98, 102, 1031, 1032, 106, 1221, 1222, 1341, 1342, 137; EnA: 12, 38, 40, 67, 90, 91, 95, 110, 116; KH: 109; ErH: 13, 25, 48, 98, 100; IEb: 9, 20, 57, 59, 84, 112, 113, 114, 132, 134, 135, 146, 148, 149, 150, 170; Nu: 36, 41, 77, 84, 92; GH: 6//32, 7//33, 47, 49, 66, 82, 96, 128, 129, 144. 57

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with mu- and ba-, which can be either transitive or intransitive, bi2- is only attested with transitive verbal forms in this corpus. Another significant difference is that bi2- is never followed by the dative, the locative /ni/, or any of the other dimensional infixes that are commonly attested with mu- and ba-, but only directly by the verbal root when the verb is ¶am¢u and has a first or second singular agent, or by a pre-verbal pronominal element and the verbal root when the form has a third singular animate or inanimate agent or direct object, as illustrated by the following examples: (33) … me gaba-zu bi2-tab (InB 8) ‘… you pressed the mes to your chest.’ (34) ki mu gub-bu-ba-am3 mu-×u10 ga-bi2-ib-gub (GH 6//32) ‘At the place where names are placed, I want to place my name.’ (35) kalag-ga me-en ni×2-zi pa bi2-e3 (LiA 96)—¶am¢u ‘I, the strong one, made true things manifest.’ (36) piri× ¶uš-gin7 EN-na nu-še-ga ze2-za bi2-ib-te-en-te-en (IEb 9)— marû ‘Like a fierce lion, you extinguish the disobedient and unsubmissive with your venom.’

A third distinguishing aspect of the use of bi2- is that, in contrast to forms with mu-, which, without /ni/, usually only involve two participants, and forms with ba-, which can occur with one to four participants, all of the forms with bi2- in this corpus are three-participant constructions like the following: (37) ne-mur mu-dub šu-lu¶ si bi2-sa2 (InB 137) ‘I piled up coal (and) I prepared the purification rites.’ (38) a-tu-e šibir šu bi2-in-du8 (KH 109) ‘The atu-priest grasped the staff.’ (39) kiši16 kur-ra-ke4 bi2-in-du(24)-en (InB 106) ‘He drove me into the thistles of the mountain.’

The final, and most notable difference between bi2-, and mu- and ba-, however, is that bi2- is often used with verbal forms to express actions that occur ‘on’ or ‘at’ a specific location. This is especially clear in the following examples, in which bi2- is used with the verbs ×ar ‘to place,’ du3 ‘to build,’ and ra ‘to strike’ to indicate events that transpire ‘on’ or ‘at’ the places denoted by za3 ‘side,’ gu2 ‘river bank,’ and tibir ‘cheek’:

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(40) za3-ba kiri6 ¶e2-bi2-gub ki ni2 dub2-bu ¶e2-bi2-×ar (ŠA 30) ‘I planted orchards and placed resting places at its side.’ (41) … e2 gu2-a bi2-in-du3 (ErH 13) ‘… (Enki) built the temple on the river bank.’ (42) ne mu-un-su-ub-ba-gin7 te-na tibir-ra bi2-in-ra (GH 144) ‘Approaching as if he were going to kiss (him), he struck (Huwawa) on the cheek.’

2d. The prefixes im-ma- and im-miHaving examined the factors that seem to condition the occurrence of the prefixes mu-, ba-, and bi2-, attention can now be turned to im-maand im-mi-. Since these prefixes are typically associated with ba- and bi2and/or the ventive element /m/, it should be possible to test the validity of these theories by determining the extent to which the distribution of imma- and im-mi- corresponds to the distribution of these three elements. The results of this analysis show that the distribution of im-ma- and immi- bears little resemblance to that of mu-, but is similar, to the point of being identical, to that of ba- and bi2-. The prefix im-ma- occurs with 41 forms in the Decad.60 In most instances the factors that seem to condition its occurrence are the same as those that have been shown to condition ba-. Twenty-eight of the 41 forms with im-ma- are transitive,61 and 10 are intransitive,62 yielding a ratio of 68 to 24 percent, a ratio that is very similar to the ratio of transitive to intransitive forms with ba-, which is 63 to 29 percent. In addition, imma-, like ba-, occurs exclusively with dimensional infixes that have an inanimate referent, and is typically used in four and three-participant constructions with transitive verbs, and in two and one-participant constructions with intransitive verbs. Lastly, im-ma- is also attested with verbs that have a separative meaning, like kar ‘to depart’ and il2 meaning ‘to rise up from’ in a context that is very similar to (19), in which il2 is used with the prefix ba- and the ablative element -ra- to describe erecting a temple. Ex60

ŠA: 64; Al: 4, 5, 66; InB: 71, 1391, 1392; EnA: 9, 13, 72, 142, 146, 148; KH: 9, 61, 65, 81, 112; ErH: 8, 17, 191, 192, 201, 202, 34, 36, 37, 70, 78, 87, 901, 902, 94, 103, 104, 119; IEb: 42//101, 43//102, 46//105, 1511, 1512, 164, 178, 179; Nu: 41, 76, 99, 116; GH: 25, 26, 39, 40, 48, 72, 871, 872. 61 ŠA: 64; Al: 4, 5, 66; EnA: 13, 72, 142; KH: 9, 61, 65, 81, 112; ErH: 8, 17, 192, 202, 34, 36, 37, 70, 901, 902, 103, 104, 119; IEb: 42//101, 43//102, 46//105, 1512, 164, 178, 179; Nu: 41, 76, 99, 116; GH: 25, 26, 48, 871, 872. 62 InB: 71, 1391, 1392; EnA: 9; ErH: 191, 201, 87, 94; IEb: 1511; GH: 72.

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amples of im-ma- occurring in each of these types of constructions, as well as with these two verbs, include: Co-occurrence with -da- and an inanimate referent (43) kur-kur-re sa× im-ma-da-sig3-ge (EnA 72) ‘(Its brickwork) makes the foreign lands tremble in fear.’ (44) temen-zu na4-gug im-ma-da-an-sa2 (ErH 36) ‘(Enki) lined your foundation with carnelian.’

Four-participant transitive constructions (with /ni/) (45) eš3-e abzu-a ul im-ma-ni-in-de6 (ErH 8) ‘(Enki) brought joy to the shrine in the Abzu.’ (46) an ki ma¶-a im-ma-an-tuš / an-ra den-lil2 im-ma-ni-in-us2 (ErH 103–104) ‘(Enki) sat An at the head of the table, and then he sat Enlil next to An there.’

Three-participant transitive constructions (without /ni/) (47) kur-ra u3-ma-×u10 im-ma-gub (IEb 178) ‘I established my victory over the mountain.’ (48) (eriduki-a …) den-ki-ke4 gu4 im-ma-ab-gaz-e udu im-ma-ab-šar2-re (ErH 90) ‘Enki slaughtered oxen and sacrificed sheep in Eridu.’

Intransitive/passive constructions (without /ni/) (49) im-ma-si im-ma-diri-ga-ta … (InB 139)—one-participant/passive ‘(Because my heart) was full, was overfull …’ (50) ¶ur-sa× ebi¶ki-ke4 im-ma-×in … (IEb 151)—two-participant/intransitive ‘(Inana) went to the mountain Ebi¶ …’

Semantic: verbal event directed away from the subject/speaker—separative (51) eriduki den-ki-ke4 im-ma-an-il2-la-ba (ErH 70) ‘When Enki caused Eridu to rise up (from the dust).’ (52) e2 eriduki-še3 im-ma-kar-ra (ErH 87) ‘When (the boat) departed toward the temple of Eridu.’

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The prefix im-mi- occurs with thirty forms in this corpus.63 Relative to im-ma- and ba-, the similarities between the distribution of im-mi- and bi2- are even closer. Like bi2-, all of the verbal forms with im-mi- are transitive, and do not occur with dative or dimensional infixes. Moreover, all of the forms with im-mi- are three-participant constructions that express actions that occur on or at the location denoted by the nominal complement to which they correspond. Examples of im-mi- in each of these types of constructions include: Transitive verbs with only pronominal elements (53) … zi-×u10 im-mi-ku2 (InB 105) ‘I wasted (lit. consumed) my life (at the temple).’ (54) ub3 zabar nu-×al2-la ki-bi-še3 im-mi-in-e3 (ErH 92) ‘(Enki) brought bronze ub drums to the places where there weren’t any.’

Three-participant constructions (55) bara2-gal ma¶-bi dur2 im-mi-in-×ar … (Nu 86) ‘(Birtum) sat on (the temple’s) great and mighty throne …’ (56) i7-de3 lugal-bi-ir ad im-mi-ib-gi4-gi4 (ErH 88) ‘The river advised its lord.’

Semantic: ‘on,’ ‘at’—locative-terminative usage (57) dGIŠ.BIL2-ga-mes-e maš2 babbar-ra šu im-mi-in-tag (GH 13) ‘Gilgamesh chose (lit. put his hand on) a white goat.’

In light of the numerous parallels between the distribution of the prefixes im-ma- and im-mi- and the prefixes ba- and bi2-, and in the absence of evident differences between the two sets of prefixes, it seems very likely that im-ma- and im-mi- are not only related to ba- and bi2-, but directly contain these elements. The question that remains, then, is which other element or elements are also present in these forms. In most of the theories that include ba- and bi2- in the analysis of imma- and im-mi-, it is generally assumed that these forms also contain the ventive element /m/. This seems unlikely for at least two reasons. First, 63 ŠA: 66, 84, 89; LiA: 95; Al: 1, 7, 18, 64, 69; InB: 91, 105, 118; EnA: 92, 102; KH: 76, 108; ErH: 67, 88, 92, 105, 106; IEb: 21, 35//941, 35//942, 78, 144; Nu: 29, 86; GH: 13, 79.

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even if it is argued that /m/ and the prefix mu- are different elements, the number of uses of mu- that are similar to the Akkadian ventive, like its co-occurrence with the dative, and the instances in which it used to express motion toward the speaker, suggest that the two elements are at the very least related. Since these uses of mu- appear to be mutually exclusive with some of the factors that condition the usage of ba- and bi2-, it is difficult to explain why the ventive would be conditioned by different factors when it is written independently as mu- than when it occurs with baand bi2-. Second, and more significantly, however, there does not seem to be any evidence for the existence of a ventive element /m/ that is distinct from mu-, as some have argued. If it is assumed that Krecher’s theory that im- is a writing of /m/ and a prosthetic vowel /i/ is correct,64 then imwould be the only form other than mu- that could plausibly contain this element. A survey of the verbal forms with im- in the Decad, though, reveals that it is unlikely the /m/ in this prefix is related to the ventive. The prefix im-, which occurs with a total of 44 verbal forms in this corpus,65 occurs in three distinct types of contexts: in 19 instances im- is written directly before the verbal base in a marû form with an inanimate direct object,66 in another 18 it is followed by the dimensional infixes -da-, -ta-, and -ši-, when they have an inanimate referent,67 and in the remaining 7 it immediately precedes the base of an intransitive verb cross-referenced by a nominal phrase marked with the locative element /a/.68 Since in the first two instances, /m/ is probably an allomorph of the third singular inanimate pronoun /b/, and in the latter an allomorph of the locative element /ni/, with which it occasionally varies, it seems improbable that the /m/ in these forms is a ventive element related to mu-. If im-ma- and im-mi- contain ba- and bi2-, but not the ventive element /m/, then the only element that remains is /i/. 64

Krecher 1985. Al: 73; InB: 29, 31, 32, 33; EnA: 46, 78, 147, 149, 153; KH: 11; ErH: 15, 18, 40, 91, 1071, 1072, 108; IEb: 115, 116, 1201, 1202, 121, 125, 136; Nu: 11, 12, 18, 29, 35, 42, 461, 462, 47, 51, 60, 61, 79, 80, 811, 812, 109; GH: 110, 143. 66 Al: 73; ErH: 15, 18, 40, 1071, 1072, 108; IEb: 116, 1201, 1202, 125, 136; Nu: 11, 461, 60, 61, 80, 811, 812. 67 InB: 29, 31, 33; EnA: 46, 147, 149, 153; IEb: 115; Nu: 12, 18, 29, 35, 47, 51, 79, 109; GH: 110, 143. For examples of im- before these infixes cf. EnA 46 and 147, and Nu 51 and 79, which are cited in the Appendix under A.1, (b2), below. 68 InB: 32; EnA: 78; IEb 121; Nu: 42, 462; GH: 651, 652. 65

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3. The prefix i- and the forms im-ma- and im-miThe theory that the element /i/ and the prefixes /ba/ and /bi/ are present in im-ma- and im-mi- can be traced as far back as Poebel,69 but finds its first full expression in Falkenstein’s grammar of the Gudea inscriptions.70 This idea, which was later defended by Postgate, who made a more direct claim that im-ma- and im-mi- are to be analyzed simply as /i/ + /ba/ and /i/ + /bi/,71 is also found, in a different formulation, in Thomsen’s grammar of Sumerian.72 The primary weakness of all of these proposals, however, is that they lack a precise definition of the function of the element /i/. Falkenstein assumed that /i/ is a conjugation prefix that is mutually exclusive with mu-, and is used principally with verbal forms that have an inanimate referent,73 a notion which fails to distinguish /i/ adequately from ba- and bi2-, prefixes that also tend to occur with inanimate referents. Thomsen, on the other hand, interprets /i/ vaguely as “the most neutral prefix, used where other presumably more specific conjugation prefixes are not necessary,”74 and Postgate declines to define the function of /i/ beyond as an element that, in his view, is in opposition to a supposed zero marker and not mu-.75 In Old Babylonian literary compositions there are two different writings of an element /i/ that occur as prefixes at the beginning of verbal forms. One of these prefixes is written with the NI sign, conventionally transliterated as i3, and the other is written with the sign I(1). In practically every treatment of the element /i/ to date, these two forms are assumed to be writings of the same element. However, the distributions of these forms when they occur as verbal prefixes do not appear to be complementary. With the exception of forms of the types i-ib(2)-VB, i-im-VB, and i-in-VB, in which i3- and i- can vary freely, i3- typically occurs directly before the verbal base with either intransitive verbs like ša6 ‘to be good,’ ¶ul2 ‘to be happy,’ kur2 ‘to be altered,’ and nu2 ‘to be lying down,’

69

Poebel 1923:241 (im-mi- = /i/ + /b-i/), 253 (im-ma- = /i/ + /b-i/ + /’a/). Falkenstein 1949:202–203 (im-ma- = /i/ + /ba/), 205–206 (im-mi- = /i/ + /bi/). 71 Postgate 1974:19–21. 72 Thomsen 1984. 73 Falkenstein 1950:160. 74 Thomsen 1984:176. 75 Postgate 1974:24–26; but cf. 26, n. 24: “It seems to me that the most promising explanation lies along the lines that i- places stress on the event or occurrence indicated by the verb, whereas zero prefix stresses the result of the action, or the simple fact that it has occurred.” 70

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which have a stative meaning, or with transitive verbs like ku2 ‘to be eating’ or ku5 ‘to be cutting,’ when they refer to actions that take place over an extended duration of time.76 The element i-, by contrast, never occurs directly before the verbal base, and tends to be attested with forms that are part of a sequence of events—a function of /i/ that has already been observed by Vanstiphout, who nonetheless incorrectly assumed that i3and i- are allomorphs, and defined i-, in opposition to mu-, as an element that is used to “background” instead of “foreground” events.77 Examples of i- being used with verbs that are connected in sequence include the following: (58) e2 ku3-ga i-ni-in-du3 na4za-gin3-na i-ni-in-gun3 / gal-le-eš ku3-sig17-ga šu-tag ba-ni-in-du11 (ErH 11–12) ‘(Enki) built the temple with silver, then decorated it with lapis-lazuli / and (lastly) covered it magnificently with gold.’ (59) kur gul-gul ti a2-ta i-ni-bad kur-re ba-e-šum2 / piri×-gin7 an-ki-a šeg11 i-ni-gi4 u×3-e su i-ni-sig3 / am-gal-gin7 kur gu2-erim2-×al2-la u3-na ba-gub-be2-en (IEb 6–8) ‘Destroyer of lands, you unleash arrows from your arm, overpowering the land. / Screaming like a lion in heaven and on earth, causing the people to tremble, / you stand ready, like a bull, to attack the enemy lands.’ (60) bar-bi-a izi i-ni-in-ri i-bi2-bi bi2-in-mu2 (IEb 148) ‘Setting fire to (Ebi¶’s) side, (Inana) caused the smoke to rise up (on it).’

This function of i- is especially clear in (58), in which this element is used with verbal forms describing the sequence of different stages in the building and decoration of a temple.78 That it is this /i/ that is also present in the forms im-ma- and im-mi- is made apparent by the attestations of im-ma- and im-mi- appearing consistently in verbal forms that are also part of a sequence, as illustrated by the following examples:

76

Attestations of i3- in these usages in the Decad comprise ŠA: 27, 72; InB: 20, 27, 28, 401, 402, 681, 682, 78, 85, 99, 135; EnA: 136; ErH: 107, 115; IEb: 169; Nu: 49, 52, 54; GH: 58, 691, 692, 70, 74, 98, 108, 1111, 1112, 1121, 1122, 140, 158, 171. Four of these forms (InB 40, ErH 115, Nu 49, and GH 58) are translated in the Appendix, under A.1, (d1), below. 77 Vanstiphout 1985. 78 The other instances of the verbal prefix i- occurring with this function in the Decad comprise IEb: 133 and GH: 9, 17, 18.

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(61) e2-e im-ma-×in gu3 im-ma-de2-e / sig4-e im-ma-×in gu3 im-ma-ab-šum2-mu (ErH 19–20) ‘(After) approaching the temple, (Isimu) speaks to it; / (after) approaching its brickwork, he addresses it (as follows).’ (62) bad3-da gu2-×u10 im-ma-an-la2 / ad6 a-a i7 ib2-diri-ge igi im-ma-an-šum2 (GH 25–26) ‘(When) I hang my neck over the wall / I see a corpse in the water floating on the river.’ (63) bara2-gal ma¶-bi dur2 im-mi-in-×ar a2 gal mu-da-a×2-e (Nu 86) ‘Sitting on the great and mighty throne, (Birtum) gives important commands to me.’ (64) dGIŠ.BIL2-ga-mes-e maš2 babbar-ra šu im-mi-in-tag / maš2 si4 maš2 da-ri-a gaba-na i-im-tab / šu-na ×idru ku3 kiri4-ni ba-da-an-×al2 / d utu-an-na-ra gu3 mu-un-na-de2-e (GH 13–16) ‘Gilgamesh chose a white goat, / then he pressed a brown goat— a sacrificial goat—to his chest / and (lastly) he placed the holy staff in his hand to his nose, / speaking to Utu of Heaven (as follows).’ (65) an ki ma¶-a im-ma-an-tuš / an-ra den-lil2 im-ma-ni-in-us2 / d nin-tu za3 gal-la im-mi-in-tuš / d a-nun-na ki-us2-ki-us2-bi-še3 im-mi-in-dur2-ru-ne-eš (ErH 103–106) ‘First (Enki) sat An at the head of the table, then he sat Enlil next to An there, and then he sat Nintu at the place of honour, and (lastly) he sat the Anuna next to them there.’

The use of im-ma- and im-mi- to mark verbs that express events that occur in sequence is particularly evident in (65), in which the temporal sequence and order in which Enki seats different deities at a banquet table is described using verbal forms that begin with these prefixes. 4. Conclusion On the basis of the comparison between the distribution of the prefixes mu-, ba-, and bi2- and the distribution of the prefixes im-ma- and im-miand the comparative analysis of the five factors that seem to condition the usage of these two sets of prefixes, the following observations can be made: 1) The verbal prefixes mu-, ba- and bi2- seem to be conditioned by the transitivity of the verbal form with which they occur in ways that are distinct to each of these prefixes: bi2- occurs exclusively with transitive verbs; mu- occurs primarily, but not exclusively with transitive verbs; and baoccurs more frequently with intransitive verbs than mu- and bi2-. With respect to transitivity, im-mi-, which also occurs exclusively with transi-

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tive verbs, is closely related to bi2-, and im-ma-, which occurs with a similar ratio of intransitive to transitive verbs as ba-, is similar to ba-. 2) The verbal prefixes mu-, ba- and bi2- generally occur with different infixes: mu- occurs primarily with dative infixes, like -na- and -ra-, and the dimensional infixes -da- (comitative), -ši- (terminative), and -ni- (/n/ + /i/), when these infixes have animate referents; whereas ba- occurs primarily with the ablative infix (written -ta-, -ra-, or -da-) and the terminative infix -ši- when it has an inanimate referent, but almost never with a dative infix; while bi2- never occurs with any other dimensional infixes. In this respect, im-mi-, which also does not occur with any other dimensional infixes, is similar to bi2-, and im-ma-, which occurs with dimensional infixes that have an inanimate referent, is closely related to ba-. 3) With respect to the number of participants in clauses with verbs containing these prefixes, both ba- and im-ma- occur in four-participant constructions with the verbal infix -ni- and in two-participant constructions without -ni- when the verb is intransitive; whereas bi2- and im-mitypically occur in three-participant constructions. 4) The prefix mu-, unlike the prefixes ba-, bi2-, im-ma-, and im-mi-, occurs frequently with marû verbal forms. 5) Semantically, both bi2- and im-mi- express actions that take place ‘on’ or ‘at’ a location when they occur with verbs that have a dimensional complement and ba- and im-ma- can occur with verbal forms that have a separative meaning. The similarity between the prefixes ba- and im-ma- and the prefixes bi2- and im-mi- in relation to these factors strongly suggests that ba- and bi2- are not merely related to im-ma- and im-mi-, but that im-ma- and im-mi- contain these elements. Furthermore, since im-ma- and im-mido not seem to share functions with the verbal prefix mu- and there does not seem to be an element /m/ that is distinct from mu- that could be present in these forms, it seems likely that im-ma- and im-mi- are simply writings of ba- and bi2- with the verbal prefix /i/, an element which is used primarily with verbal forms that express actions occurring in a sequence. In this usage, the element /i/ is distinct from the prefix i3-, which is used with verbs of state and to express actions that occur over an extended duration of time, and also from the verbal element prefix u3-, which is used to mark an event that occurs prior to another event in instances in which there is a direct causal relation between these events. It should be stressed, however, that these observations about the usage of /i/ are pre-

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liminary, and that a more precise definition of the function of this element will have to await further study.79 Appendix: the morphology of i- with mu-, ba-, and bi2Having demonstrated the likelihood that im-ma- and im-mi- could plausibly be analyzed as writings of /i/ with the prefixes ba- and bi2-, this appendix contains a brief and tentative description of the orthography of the element /i/ when it occurs with mu-, ba- and bi2- in different positions in the verbal chain, including when these elements are preceded by modal prefixes. 1. In the indicative /i/ combines with ba- and bi2- to form im-ma- and im-mi-, except in forms in which ba- is followed directly by the verbal base or the dimensional infixes -da-, -ta-, or -ši-, when /i/ and ba- are realized as im-. When /i/ occurs with mu-, however, /i/ replaces mu- when mu- is followed by /ni/ and/or pre-verbal /n/, but is written as im- when these two elements occur in a marû verb with a third singular inanimate pronoun, and omitted entirely in all other instances. Similarly, /i/ is not written with i3 when i3 directly precedes the verbal root, but can be written optionally as i3- or i- when i3- precedes the pre-verbal elements /n/ or /b/. 2. When /i/ is written with the modal prefixes ¶e2-, ga-, ši-, and u3- or the prefix of negation nu-, it combines with ba-, bi2-, and mu- according to the same rules as with the indicative. Modal prefixes with /i/ and ba- or bi2- become ¶e2-em-ma- or ¶e2-em-mi-, ga-am3-ma- or ga-am3-mi-, umma- or um-mi-, and so forth; and /i/ and mu- with the same prefixes become ¶e2-ni-, ga-ni- and nu-un- or ¶e2-em-, ga-am3-, and nu-um- depending on whether mu- is followed by the pronominal element /b/, or by /ni/ and/or the pre-verbal element /n/. 3. /i/ is not expressed orthographically with the prefixes na-, a(l)-, and in-ga- when they are followed by ba- or bi2-, since these prefixes are always written with a reduplicated /m/ before these elements. This accounts for the forms nam-ma- and nam-mi-, which are occasionally written as nam-ba- and nam-bi2-, but never as *na-ba- and *na-bi2- in Old Babylonian texts, as well as the forms am3-ma- and am3-mi- for *a(l)-ba- and *a(l)-bi2-, and in-ga-am3-ma- and in-ga-am3-mi- for *in-ga-ba- and *in-

79

For a more detailed and nuanced description of the function of /i/ which is consistent in many respects with the function proposed in this study, see, for the present, Vanstiphout 1985 (in particular, the observations and examples on pp. 5–10).

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ga-bi2-. Note also, that like the other modal prefixes with /i/, mu- is always omitted after na-, a(l)-, and in-ga-, yielding the forms na-an- for *na-muun- and in-ga-ni- for *in-ga-mu-ni-. The tentative rules governing the morphology of /i/ with the verbal prefixes with which it seems to occur can be summarized as follows: A.1. Indicative (a) /i/ + bi2- > im-mi(b1) /i/ + ba- > im-ma(b2) /i/ + ba- + /b/ (3rd Sg. Inan. Pron.) + -da-/-ta-/-ši- > im-ta/-da/-ši- (cf. EnA 46: im-ta-du7-du7; EnA 147: im-da-še×3-še×3; Nu 51, 79: im-ši-×al2) (b3) /i/ + ba + /ni/ (loc.) + VB (intransitive) > (i-)im-VB (cf. InB 32, Nu 42: im-si (var. i-in-si); Nu 46: im-ra; GH 65: (i-)im-zi (i-)im-bu-lu-¶a) (b4) /i/ + ba + /e/ (loc.-term.) + VB (intransitive) > ib(2)-VB (cf. InB 143: ib2-gu-ul) (c1) /i/ + mu + ni(-in)- > i-ni(-in)- (cf. ErH 11; IEb 6–7, 148: *i-muni(-in)- > i-ni(-in)-) (c2) /i/ + mu + (-ni)-/b/ (3rd In. DO)-VB (marû) > im-VB (marû) (cf. ErH 108: im-gur4-gur4-ne; IEb 136: im-bar-re; Nu 81: im-su3-e) vs. mu/mi-ni-ib-VB (marû) NOTE: im + e = ‘to speak’ marû > im-me (cf. ErH 18; IEb 125) (c3) /i/ + mu + all other prefixes except -ni- and /b/ > mu- + prefixes (e. g., *i-mu-na-VB > mu-na-VB; *i-mu-un (3rd An. AG)-VB > mu-unVB, etc.) (d1) /i/ + i3- (stative/durative pronoun; cf. InB 40: nin ur5 i3-ša6 nin ša3 i3-¶ul2 ‘Lady, can you be happy? Lady, can you rejoice?’; ErH 115: i3-su8ge-en-za-na ‘you (Anuna) who are standing (here)’; Nu 49: ×iš-¶ur-bi i3kur2 ‘its plan is changed (permanently)’; GH 58: ×išpa-bi i3-ku5-ru-ne ‘they were cutting its branches’) + VB > i3-VB (d2) /i/ + i3- + /b/ (3rd Sg. Inan. Pron.) + VB > (i(3)-)ib(2)-VB (cf. InB 38: ib2-te-en-te-en) A.2. With modal prefixes For ¶e2-, ga-, ši-, u3-, and nu- same rules as for indicative: ¶e2 + i + bi2> ¶e2-em-mi- (cf. ŠA 66: ¶e2-em-mi-ib-za; ErH 67: ¶e2-em-mi-ib-ša4); ¶e2 + i + ba- > ¶e2-em-ma- (cf. InEn 24380: ¶e2-em-ma-ab-gaz-e); ¶e2 + i + mu- + ni(-in)- > ¶e2-ni(-in)- (ŠA 55: du10 ¶e2-ni-dub2 a-zal-le ¶e2-ni-tu5); 80

InEn: Inana and Enki = ETCSL 1.3.1.

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¶e2 + i + mu + (-ni)-/b/ (3rd In. DO)-VB (marû) > ¶e2-em-VB (marû) (cf. ŠA 62: ¶e2-em-tuku4-tuku4); ga + i + bi2- > ga-am3-mi- (cf. IEb 35//94: gaam3-mi-ib-si); ga + i + ba- > ga-am3-ma- (cf. IEb 42//101: ga-am3-ma-abAK); u3 + i + bi2-/ba- > um-mi/ma- (cf. EnA 46: um-ma-te; LglB 198:81 ummi-dim2); nu + i + ma/mi- > nu-um-ma/mi- (cf. LglB 148: nu-um-magid2-de3; InB 118: nu-um-mi-la2); etc. for ši- (i. e. ši + i + bi2/ba- > ši-immi/ma-). A.3. (-)Vm-mV without /i/ With na-, a(l)-, and (i)nga- the reduplication of m is purely orthographic/ phonetic: na + ba- > nam-ma- (*na-ba-; cf. GH 27: nam-ba-AK-e); na + bi2- > nam-mi- (*na-bi2-; cf. GH 77: nam-bi2-ib-sar); na + mu + prefix(es) > na-PFX (cf. GH 1–2: na-an-gub for *na-mu-un-gub); al + ba- > am3-ma- (cf. KH 81: e2 še×9 lu-lim-e gu2 am3-ma-gur-re ‘The house herds wild sheep and deer together (continually)’; *a-ba- only attested directly before verbal base); al + bi2- > am3-mi-; etc. for in-ga- (i. e. *in-gaba/bi2 > in-ga-am3-ma/mi-). References Attinger 1993 Black 1986 Black et al. 2004 Delnero 2006

Delnero 2007

Edzard 2003 Falkenstein 1949 Falkenstein 1950 Gragg 1973a

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Attinger, P. Eléments de linguistique sumérienne. La construction de du11/e/di “dire” (OBO Sonderband). Fribourg. Black, J. Review of Thomsen, 1984. AfO 33:77–83. Black, J.; Cunningham, G; Robson, E.; Zólyomi, G. The Literature of Ancient Sumer. Oxford. Delnero, P. Variation in Sumerian Literary Compositions: A Case Study based on the Decad. PhD. Diss. University of Pennsylvania. Delnero, P. Pre-verbal /n/: Function, Distribution, and Stability. Ebeling, J.; Cunningham, G. (eds.). Analysing Literary Sumerian: Corpus-based Approaches. London. Pp. 105– 143. Edzard, D. O. Sumerian Grammar (HdO I/71). Leiden– Boston. Falkenstein, A. Grammatik der Sprache Gudeas von Lagaš. I. Schrift- und Formenlehre (AnOr 28). Roma. Falkenstein, A. Grammatik der Sprache Gudeas von Lagaš. II. Syntax (AnOr 29). Roma. Gragg, G. Linguistics, Method, and Extinct Languages: The Case of Sumerian. Or NS 42:78–96.

LglB: Lugalbanda and the Anzud bird = ETCSL 1.8.2.2.

P. Delnero, The Sumerian Verbal Prefixes im-ma- and im-miGragg 1973b Karahashi 2000 Krecher 1985 Michalowski 2004

Poebel 1923 Postgate 1974 Robson 2001 Scholtz 1934

Thomsen 1984 Thureau-Dangin 1907 Tinney 1999 Vanstiphout 1985 Wilcke 1988

Woods 2008

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Gragg, G. Sumerian Dimensional Infixes (AOAT S 5). Neukirchen–Vluyn. Karahashi, F. The Locative-Terminative Verbal Infix in Sumerian. ASJ 22:113–133. Krecher, J. Die /m/-Präfixe des sumerischen Verbums. Or NS 54:133–181. Michalowski, P. Sumerian. Woodard, R. D. (ed). The Cambridge Encylclopedia of the World’s Ancient Languages. Cambridge. Pp. 19–59. Poebel, A. Grundzüge der sumerischen Grammatik. Rostock. Postgate, J. N. Two Points of Grammar in Gudea. JCS 26:16–53. Robson, E. The Tablet House: A Scribal School in Old Babylonian Nippur. RA 95:39–66. Scholtz, R. Die Struktur der sumerischen engeren Verbalpräfixe (Konjugationspräfixe) speziell dargelegt an der I. und II. Form (E- und MU- Konjugation) (MVAG 39/2). Leipzig. Thomsen, M. L. The Sumerian Language: An Introduction to its History and Grammatical Structure. Copenhagen. Thureau-Dangin, F. Sur les préfixes du verbe sumérien. ZA 20:380–404. Tinney, S. On the Curricular Setting of Sumerian Literature. Iraq 41:159–172. Vanstiphout, H. L. J. On the Verbal Prefix /i/ in Standard Sumerian. RA 79:1–15. Wilcke, C. Anmerkungen zum “Konjugationspräfix” /i/und zur These vom “sylbischen Charakter der sumerischen Morpheme” anhand neusumerischer Verbalformen beginnend mit i3-ib2-, i3-im- und i3-in-*. ZA 78:1–49. Woods, C. The Grammar of Perspective: The Sumerian Conjugation Prefixes as a System of Voice. Leiden–Boston.

Argument Structure of Sumerian Verbs II: The Transitive-Ditransitive Alternation∗ Fumi Karahashi Chuo University

0. Preliminary At the Münster RAI in 2006, I argued that some Sumerian verbs of type S = O,1 such as e3 ‘go out,’ gub ‘stand,’ ku4 ‘enter,’ zi ‘rise,’ etc., showed the socalled Causative Alternation (Karahashi 2008). I concluded that the transitive/causative variant of these verbs is a lexical expression on the grounds that the valency increment in these verbs does not necessarily affect verbal morphology. I also suggested that Sumerian seemed to allow recursive causativity in the lexicon, at least with some of the verbal lexemes in question.2 Both of the above points are clearly illustrated in connection with the verb zi, which means ‘rise’ (1a), ‘raise’ (= cause to rise) (1b), or ‘cause to raise’ (1c) depending on the number of arguments, while all of them employ the conjugation prefix ba-, especially (1a) and (1c) containing the same ba-an-V.3 (1) Verb zi a. šar2-ra la-ba-an-šub-bu-uš [Sšar2-ra] la-ba-an-zi-ge-eš ‘No multitudes have fallen down; no multitudes have risen up’ (Gilgameš & Agga 76)4 ∗ I am deeply thankful to Miguel Civil, David Embick, and Beatrice Santorini for their insightful comments and suggestions. Needless to say, all flaws and errors are mine alone. 1 Abbreviations are: A = transitive subject; ACC = accusative; CAUS = causative; DAT = dative; DO = direct object; intr. = intransitive; IO = indirect object; NOM = nominative; NP = noun phrase; O = transitive object; PN = personal name; S = intransitive subject; tr. = transitive; V = verb. In this paper the usage of square brackets does not follow the conventions of Assyriology, but represents a linguistic unit such as noun phrase. In order to keep the examples visually simple, textual restoration is not indicated. In any event, there is not much restoration involved in the cited examples. 2 Cf. Dixon 2000:59: double application of causative is “not available for lexical causatives.” 3 For these examples, see Karahashi 2008:86, 88. 4 Römer 1980:33; Black et al. 1998 (1.8.1.1).

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Verbal and Nominal Morphology in Sumerian b. [A×uruš-e] utu-ra an-še3 [Ošu-ni] ba-an-na-zi ‘The lad raised his hands to Utu to heaven’ (Inana’s Descent to the Netherworld 369)5 c. (lu2…) aš2-bal-ba-ke4-eš [IOlu2 kur2] [Ošu] ba-an-zi-zi-a ‘(Whoever) should make someone else raise a hand on account of this curse’ (Šu-ilīšu 1:23–25)6

The question now arises as to how other types of Sumerian verbs achieve a causative effect. This paper will discuss causatives of certain transitive verbs with specific characteristics, such as gu7 ‘eat’ and nag ‘drink’ (simplex transitive verbs) and igi—du8 ‘see’ (compound verbs) and address two points: their formal mechanism (morphological derivation) and the syntactic encoding of the core arguments. In the following, I will first review the causatives of transitive verbs in general, and then examine the causatives of simplex transitive and compound verbs in Sumerian. 1. Causatives of transitives: theoretical background A causative construction involves a valency increment of one, by adding an argument, a causer, onto a basic clause (Dixon 2000:30). The causative of a transitive verb, therefore, contains three core arguments: the two original core arguments of the transitive plus an additional one, a causer. There are, both across and within languages, a variety of different formal mechanisms to achieve such a causative effect. Two major mechanisms are periphrastic (syntactic) causatives, as in (2) and morphological causatives, as in (3): (2) Mary made John/him read a book. (3) Hanako-ga Taroo-ni hon-o yom-ase-ta. Hanako-NOM Taroo-DAT book-ACC read-CAUS-PAST ‘Hanako made Taroo read a book.’

(2) gives an English example, where the causative verb ‘make’ is employed to construct a periphrastic (syntactic) causative. (3) is a Japanese example of a morphological causative, where a verbal affix -(s)ase- immediately follows the verbal root. A further question concerns how the causative of a simplex transitive (or monotransitive) encodes the causee and the theme/patient. Two major types of encoding are shown in (4) (Comrie 1985:338–42; Dixon 5 6

Sladek 1974:149; Black et al. 1998 (1.4.1). Frayne 1990:16.

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2000:47–56). Example (2) is Type (4a), exhibiting a double accusative construction, while Example (3) is Type (4b). In this type, the theme is encoded as accusative and the causee as dative. (4) Syntactic Encoding of Causatives of Transitives Type Causer Causee Theme a A DO DO b A IO DO

It is noteworthy that the case array of these constructions is the same as that of ordinary ditransitives (Dixon 2000:52), as shown in (5–6): (5) Mary gave John/him a book (6) Hanako-ga Taroo-ni hon-o age-ta Hanako-NOM Taroo-DAT book-ACC give-PAST ‘Hanako gave Taroo a book.’

I return to this point in Section 4. 2. Causatives of simple transitives in Sumerian I will examine the five Sumerian verbs gu7 ‘eat,’ nag ‘drink,’ zu ‘know,’ dab5 ‘take,’ and tuku ‘have.’ In order to minimize the range of interpretational possibilities, I will cite examples with three overt arguments: causer, causee, and theme. 2.1. gu7 ‘eat’ Two examples of the gu7 ‘eat’-causative are given in (7): (7) a. [Aden-ki-ke4] eš3-e nibruki-am3 [IOa-a-ni den-lil2-ra] [Oninda] ...........mu-un-gu7-e ‘Enki, at the shrine in Nippur, makes his father Enlil eat food’ (Enki’s Journey to Nippur 104–05)7 .b. [IOud5-de] [Oni×2-ar3-ra]

bi2-ib2-gu7-en ‘I make the goats eat groats’ (Nanna’s Journey to Nippur 271)8

The theme is what is to be eaten: ninda ‘food/bread’ (7a) and ni×2-ar3-ra ‘groats’ (7b), which are encoded as direct object (O). The causee, who does the eating, is generally marked oblique, encoded as indirect object (IO). In (7a), ‘his father Enlil’ is overtly marked with the dative postposi7 8

Al-Fouadi 1969; Black et al. 1998 (1.1.4). Ferrara 1973; Black et al. 1998 (1.5.1).

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tion -ra (a-a-ni den-lil2-ra); in (7b), ‘goats’ with the locative-terminative postposition -e (ud5-de). The causer, encoded as transitive subject (A), is an independent NP in (7a): den-ki-ke4, ‘Enki’ with the ergative postposition -e, while in (7b) the verbal suffix -en refers to the causer. The English verb ‘feed’ may be used for ‘make … eat’ in translation.9 2.2. nag ‘drink’ An example of the nag ‘drink’-causative is given in (8), in an imperative form: (8) enmen e-tuku [Oa] nag-mu-ub-ze2-en ‘I am thirsty; make (me) drink water! / give (me) a drink!’ (Edubba .A 13)10

The theme is a ‘water.’ The causee, ‘me,’ could have been expressed as the 1st singular dative verbal infix, thus creating *nag-ma-. The form we have here, nag-mu-ub-, might remind us of the OBGT VI 51 gar-mu-ub = šuškinanni (Imperative of šakānu Š-stem plus the 1st singular accusative suffix) ‘cause (someone) to place me.’11 In that case, however, ‘me’ is not a causee, but the theme. Does this mean that V-mu-ub can express either the 1st singular accusative or the 1st singular dative, depending on the context?12 Or does it mean that the causee was encoded, in this example, as direct object? Another possible interpretation is that the causee is not expressed at all. This would be analogous to imperatives of causatives in Japanese, where the 1st person causee is often omitted. I return to the issue of the encoding of the causee in Sections 2.3 and 2.4. 2.3. zu ‘know’ Two examples of the zu ‘know’-causative are given in (9): (9) a. [Ae-ne] [Onam-ma¶-a-ni] ši-im-ma-an-zu-zu-un ‘He makes me know his greatness’ (Enmerkar and the Lord of Aratta 292)13 9

Note another construction of the gu7-causative and the nag-causative, where the comitative infix occurs: tukum-bi [Aama] [IOdumu-ni-ir] [Oin-tuku] mu-(un)-da-an-gu7 [Oin-tuku] mu-(un)-da-an-nag ‘If a mother let her child eat what she has, drink what she has’ (Nanše A 194–195, Heimpel 1981). 10 Kramer 1949. 11 Edzard’s (2003:128) translation: ‘cause me to be set (here).’ 12 Cf. Attinger 2004:76. 13 Vanstiphout 2003; Black et al. 1998 (1.8.2.3).

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b. [IOšagina-×u10-ne-er] [Oad gi4-gi4] mu-un-zu [Oinim šar2-šar2] mu-un-zu ‘I make my generals know how to give advice and how to converse’ (Šulgi B 227)14

In (9a), the causer (encoded as A) is overtly expressed, i. e., the 3rd singular pronoun ene ‘he,’ the theme (encoded as O) is nam-ma¶-a-ni ‘his greatness,’ and the causee, ‘me,’ is expressed with the verbal suffix -en (written -un due to vowel assimilation). This suffix cross-references either the direct object (tr. ¶am¢u conjugation) or the transitive subject (tr. marû conjugation), and here clearly the direct object is meant. Example (9b) contains two clauses: in the first the theme is ad gi4-gi4 ‘giving advice’ and in the second inim šar2-šar2 ‘conversing.’ The causer, although not overtly given, can safely be assumed to be ‘I’ from the context. The causee (encoded as IO) is šagina-×u10-ne-er ‘my generals,’ an independent NP with the dative postposition. These two examples suggest that the causee argument was variably encoded either as a direct or an indirect object.15 2.4. dab5 ‘seize, hold, take’ Three examples of the dab5 ‘seize, hold, take’-causative are given in (10):

14

Castellino 1972; Black et al. 1998 (2.4.2.02). An analogous situation exists in French (B. Santorini, personal communication). In standard French the causee is dative (encoded as an indirect object), as shown in (a–b): (a) J’ai fait porter la valise à Jean. I have made carry the suitcase Jean-DAT ‘I made Jean carry the suitcase.’ (b) Je lui ai fait porter la valise. I him-DAT have made carry the suitcase ‘I made him carry the suitcase.’ On the other hand, in a pattern that is now nonstandard, but that is found throughout all stages of French, the causee is accusative (encoded as a direct object), as shown in (c–d): (c) J’ai fait Jean porter la valise. I have made Jean carry the suitcase ‘I made Jean carry the suitcase.’ (d) Je l’ai fait Jean porter la valise. I him-ACC have made carry the suitcase ‘I made him carry the suitcase.’ 15

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Verbal and Nominal Morphology in Sumerian (10) a. [Adur-dnin-urta-ke4] [IOug3 šar2-re] [Ous2 zi] ¶e2-bi2-ib-dab5-be2 ‘May Ur-Ninurta make/let the numerous people take the righteous path!’ (Ur-Ninurta D 34)16 b. [Ox ma-na sig2] [Aur-dig-alima-ke4] ud ti-la-a e2 ur-dig-alima-ta [Olal-la-gu-la] i3-dab5 ‘Ur-igalima makes/lets Lallagula take X mina of wool during living days from the house of Ur-igalima’ (Falkenstein 1956 6:17–21) c. [O11/.3 ma-na kug-babbar še-ba i3-ba u3 sig2!-ba] a-ra2-2-kam [Oummi-eš4-tar2 dam-×u10] ga-dab5-dab5 ‘I will make/let my wife Ummi-eštar take 1 and 1/.3 mina of silver, grain-, oil-, and wool-rations for two times’ (Falkenstein 1956 8:2–4)

The theme (encoded as O) is what is to be taken: us2 zi ‘righteous path’ (10a) and various types of rations (10b–c). The causer (encoded as A) is an independent NP (PN) with ergative marking, dur-dnin-urta-ke4 (10a) and ur-dig-alima-ke4 (10b). In (10c), the 1st person singular subject is indicated with the modal/cohortative prefix ga-. The causee in (10a) is encoded as IO: a NP ‘the numerous people’ with the locative-terminative postposition -e, ug3 šar2-re. On the other hand, the causee, lal-la-gu-la “Lallagula” (10b) and ummi-eš4-tar2 dam-×u10 ‘Ummi-eštar, my wife’ (10c), has no overt oblique marker. Nor is the dative infix placed in the verbal prefix chain. Economic texts from the Ur III period sometime employ -e, -a, or -Ø instead of the dative postposition -ra. In such cases, however, especially with NP-Ø, the dative infix normally occurs in the verbal prefix chains.17 Compared with such sentences, (10a) and (10b) look like a double accusative construction. Therefore, with reservation, the causee in question is labeled O. Here again, these examples suggest that the causee argument was encoded either as an indirect or a direct object.18

16

Falkenstein 1957; Black et al. (2.5.6.4). a-na-¶a-ni-e ba-na-gi-in ‘(his male-slave, female-slave, son, and daughter) were guaranteed to Anahani’ (Falkenstein, 1956 44:11–13); PN1-e…PN2 dam-na in-na-ba ‘PN1 allotted (15/.6 sar of house lot) to his wife PN2’ (Falkenstein, 1956 10:2–6); geme2 a-kal-la-Ø ba-na-gi-in ‘a slave-girl was guaranteed to Akalla’ (Falkenstein, 1956 37:14); when the postposition -a is affixed to PN a-kal-la, this -a is overtly expressed as a-kal-la-a (Falkenstein, 1956 37:3). 18 Now let us go back to the example of zi (1c), where recursive causativity is found. I labeled the causee, lu2 kur2 ‘someone else,’ indirect object (IO) as shown below: (lu2…) aš2-bal-ba-ke4-eš [IOlu2 kur2] [Ošu] ba-an-zi-zi-a 17

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2.5. tuku ‘have’ Two examples of tuku ‘have’-causative are given in (11): (11) a. [Aza-e-me-en] [IOinim-×u10] an-ki-a [Ogaba-ri] la-ba-e-ni-tuku19 ‘You do not cause my word to have rivals in the universe’ (Inana & Ebi¶ 67)20 b. [IOdiš-me-dda-gan lugal ki-en-gi ki-uri-ra] ud [Aden-lil2-le] [Odnin-urta ur-sa× kala-ga-ni] maškim-še3 mu-ni-in-tuku-a ‘When Enlil had Išme-aga, king of Sumer and Akkad, have .Ninurta, his mighty champion, as bailiff.’ (Išme-Dagan 7:1–7)21

The theme (encoded as O) of the tuku-causative is what is to be had by or given to someone: gaba-ri ‘rivals’ (11a) and dnin-urta ur-sa× kala-ga-ni ‘Ninurta, his mighty champion’ (11b). The causer in (11a) is ‘you,’ the 2nd person singular pronoun za-e plus the 2nd person singular enclitic copula -me-en, za-e-me-en, and in (11b) ‘Enlil’ with the ergative postposition -e, den-lil2-le. The causee (encoded as IO) in (11a) is inim-×u10 ‘my word,’ where locative-terminative marking is assumed and in (11b) dišme-dda-gan lugal ki-en-gi ki-uri-ra ‘Išme-Dagan, king of Sumer and Akkad’ with the dative postposition. 2.6. Observations 2.6.1. Formal mechanism of causatives There is no discernible pattern in the verbal prefixal morphology of these causatives, as our examples have shown: mu-un-; mu-ub-; mu-ni-in-; mani-in-; ba-e-ni-; ba-ni-in-; bi2-ib2/ib-; im-ma-an-; im-mi-; i3-. In other words, the valency increment does not necessarily affect the choice of prefixes, and therefore, the causative of our verbs appears to be lexical. The verbs dealt with here, gu7 ‘eat,’ nag ‘drink,’ zu ‘know,’ dab5 ‘take,’ and tuku ‘have,’ belong to a class of verbs called ingestives.22 “These are verbs that (in the typical case) refer to some sort of ingestion, whether literal or not so

‘(Whoever) should make someone else raise a hand on account of this curse’ (Šu-ilīšu 1:23–25). However, lu2 kur2 is not overtly marked as an oblique argument. Neither dative nor any other dimensional infix is placed in the verbal prefix chain. This label, therefore, may be changed to O: [Olu2 kur2]. 19 Var.: la-ba-ni-in-tuku. 20 Attinger 1998; Black et al. 1998 (1.3.2). 21 Frayne 1990. 22 This was noted by D. Embick (personal communication).

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literal” (Bhatt–Embick 2003:37) and in Hindi, ingestives form a specific group deriving (direct) causatives by adding -aa- to the verb roots. On the other hand, with the exception of tuku, which always seems to require more than two arguments, the first four verbs also belong to the S = A subtype. That is to say, while they are basically semantically transitive, with an agent (transitive subject) and a theme (direct object), the theme need not be expressed in the syntax (Dixon 2000:38), as shown in (12): (12) a. [SMary] has eaten b. [AMary] has eaten [Oa big apple]

Of interest for our discussion here is the observation that there is, in Amharic (a Semitic language), a small set of ambitransitive verbs of the S = A subtype which almost exclusively contains ingestive verbs such as ‘eat’ and ‘drink’ (Amberber 2000:313). This is also the case for our Sumerian verbs of ‘eat,’ ‘drink,’ ‘know,’ and ‘take,’ where the two categories overlap. In Sumerian, the verbs of type S = A and/or of ingestive as well as those of type S = O seem to achieve a causative effect by null derivation, unless some unwritten phonological change of the verb roots is involved. 2.6.2. Syntactic encoding of the core arguments In our examples, the theme (the original O argument) retains its direct object encoding, and the newly added argument, the causer, is encoded as transitive subject. The causee (the original A argument) seems to be variably encoded as either an indirect or a direct object (13). (13) Syntactic Encoding of the Core Arguments Causer Causee Theme A IO/DO DO

3. Causatives of Sumerian compound verbs In this section I will discuss two Sumerian compound verbs, igi—du8 ‘see’ and zu2—du3 ‘bite.’ Both are basically semantically transitive and occur in causative constructions as shown below.23 In the prototypical Sumerian com23 Sumerian compound verbs with semantically intransitive meanings, such as sig4—gi4 ‘roar,’ gu3—e3 ‘call,’ and pa—e3 ‘appear,’ also occur in causative constructions, as shown in the following. They contain three arguments: the agent (= causer) in ergative, the theme in oblique, and the nominal constituent in absolutive. eš3 dnin-dub-ke4 sig4 mu-gi4-gi4 ‘Nindub was causing the shrine to roar’ (Gudea Cyl. B vi 3, Edzard 1997, Black et al. 1998 (2.1.7))

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pound verb construction, the nominal constituent (e. g., igi ‘eye’ of igi—du8; zu2 ‘tooth’ of zu2—du3) is syntactically encoded as direct object, appearing in the absolutive case; the semantic/logical object of the compound verb is syntactically encoded as indirect object, marked with an oblique-case postposition (generally the dative for an animate noun and the locative-terminative for an inanimate one). The causative of compound verbs thus contains four arguments: causer, causee, theme, and nominal constituent. 3.1. igi—du8 ‘see’ A causative example with of igi—du8 ‘see’ is given in (14): (14) .ud [Adaš-im2-babbar] [IOgiskim sag9-sag9-ga-ne2] [Oigi] ma-ni-indu8-a igi nam-ti-la-ka-ni mu-ši-in-bar-ra-a ‘When Ašimbabbar made me see his good sign, and looked at me with his eye of life’ (Warad-Sin 16:25–29)24

Example (14) contains two clauses: the predicate in the first is igi—du8 and the one in the second, igi—bar, of which we are concerned with the first. There, the causer is daš-im2-babbar, although the ergative-marker is not expressed in writing. The causee is ‘me,’ expressed as the 1st dative in the verbal prefix chain, ma-. The theme is giskim sag9-sag9-ga-ne2 ‘his good sign’, with locative-terminative marking. The nominal constituent is igi ‘eye’, with absolutive marking. The causative of igi—du8 may be translated as ‘show’ in English. 3.2. zu2—du3 ‘bite’ An example of a causative with zu2—du3 ‘bite’ is given in (15): (15) [Adnin-ki nam-ni ma-ni-kud-ra2] [IOummaki] [IOmuš] ki-ta [giri3ba] [Ozu2] ¶e2-mi-du3-du3-e [IOna-kam-tum a-na gar-gar-ra-zu] izi-gin7 [Ogu3] mi-ni-in-e3-en23 ‘The storehouse, which you accumulated, you make roar like (the sound of people sitting around) the fire’ (Winter and Summer 226, Black et al. 1998 (5.3.3)) en-e ni×2 ul-e pa na-an-ga-am3-mi-in-e3 ‘The lord also caused necessary things to appear’ (Song of the Hoe 1, Black et al. 1998 (5.5.4)) From the syntactic viewpoint, the causatives of the semantically intransitive Sumerian compound verbs are the same as those of Sumerian monotransitives. However, since the verbal constituents of such compound verbs belong to the S = O subtype, I have excluded them from the discussion in this paper. 24 Frayne 1990.

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Verbal and Nominal Morphology in Sumerian ‘May Ninki whose oath they swear for me make a snake from the earth bite the foot of Umma!’ (Ean. 1rev. v 32–36)25

In (15), the causer is dnin-ki nam-ni ma-ni-kud-ra2 ‘Ninki whose oath they swear for me.’ The causee is muš ‘snake’: although the NP takes no oblique-marking postposition, the verbal prefix chain contains the locative-terminative infix, he2-immi- < he2-imma+*I.26 The theme is ummaki … giri3-ba ‘the foot of Umma’ (lit. ‘of Umma … its foot’) with the locativemarking postposition. The nominal constituent is zu2 ‘tooth’, with absolutive marking. 3.3. Observations 3.3.1. Formal mechanism of causatives The causatives of these two compound verbs also look like lexical expressions or zero-derived causatives. It is noteworthy that the verb ‘see’ is certainly an ingestive verb,27 and that ‘bite’ may also be one. In addition, neither verb requires the theme to be expressed in the syntax. In this respect, the two compound verbs resemble the five simplex verbs discussed earlier. 3.3.2. Syntactic encoding of the core arguments In (14–15), the semantic object argument and the nominal constituent retain their original encoding, indirect and direct object, respectively. The newly added argument, the causer, is encoded as A and the causee, as indirect object (16). This is probably what is to be expected. Since my research is not exhaustive by any means, however, it would not be surprising if we were to encounter a different encoding of causee or semantic object. (16) Syntactic Encoding with Causative of Compound Verb Causer A

Causee IO

Semantic Object IO

Nominal Const. DO

4. Transitive-ditranstive alternation in Sumerian Jacobsen (1965:93, n. 16) discusses the “use of the i/e-allative form as a causative,” where the morphemes in the verbal prefix chain including -ni-

25

Steible 1982. This might be considered as applicative, which I will address elsewhere. 27 Verbs of perception are ingestive verbs: see Bhatt–Embick 2003:37. 26

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and bi2- are interpreted to mark “the agent object.”28 What Jacobsen discusses is how the causee is marked morphologically and encoded syntactically. This is a different matter from how verbs achieve a causative effect. Zólyomi (2000) suggests that these morphemes -ni- and bi2- were reinterpreted as causative markers by Akkadian-speaking scribes. By “causative markers” he means, I suppose, that they become causative morphemes on a par with the Japanese causative morpheme -(s)ase- in (3). I think this idea is a sensible solution, and it may indeed be the case for some causative constructions in the Old Babylonian period. But if correct, it of course raises the question of how Sumerian achieved a causative effect before the reinterpretation of the two morphemes. One such mechanism is lexical causatives, and our data point in this direction. If there is a problem here, it is that zero-derived lexical causatives are generally said to be limited to the intransitive-transitive alternation. Now, we are going to change our viewpoint 180 degrees and take a look at a decomposition of ditransitive verbs. The standard contemporary syntactic analysis decomposes ditransitive verbs into two more basic predicates, a causative predicate and another predicate determined by the meaning of the ditransitive. For instance, ‘give’ is semantically decomposed into ‘cause’ and ‘have,’ ‘show’ into ‘cause’ and ‘see,’ ‘feed’ into ‘cause’ and ‘eat,’ etc.29 (17) a. Mary gave John/him a book b. Mary CAUSE John/him HAVE a book (18) a. Mary showed John/him a book b. Mary CAUSE John/him SEE a book (19) a. Mary fed John/him nutritious food b. Mary CAUSE John/him EAT nutritious food

This decomposition analysis can be applied to the Sumerian verbs under discussion in the following way. (20) a. Mary tuku John/him a book b. Mary CAUSE John/him tuku a book (21) a. Mary igi—du8 John/him a book b. Mary CAUSE John/him igi—du8 a book

28

This line of analysis has been followed and further developed by many scholars: for the references, see Karahashi 2008:90, n. 7. 29 B. Santorini (personal communication). See also Santorini–Kroch 2007, Chapter 7.

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Verbal and Nominal Morphology in Sumerian (22) a. Mary gu7 John/him nutritious food b. Mary CAUSE John/him gu7 nutritious food

If we assume that CAUSE is expressed by a zero morpheme, we will get a tuku ditransitive, an igi—du8 ditransitive, and a gu7 ditransitive, respectively. A major difference between English and Sumerian is that while English has distinct vocabulary items for the transitive and its corresponding ditransitive, Sumerian employs one and the same vocabulary item for both. 5. Conclusions Once a new argument, the causer, is added, the verbs gu7, nag, zu, dab5, tuku, igi—du8, and zu2—du3 become causatives. I suspect that the zeroderived character of these causatives has something to do with the characteristics of these verbs (their membership in the S = A class and/or the ingestive class). Needless to say, further research is necessary to clarify the apparent correlation. The causee in the causative of monotransitives may permit either indirect object or direct object encoding, an issue which is related to whether Sumerian allows double accusatives, and which also requires further research. References Al-Fouadi 1969 Amberber 2000

Attinger 1998 Attinger 2004 Bhatt–Embick 2003

Black et al. 1998 Castellino 1972 Comrie 1985

Dixon 2000

Al-Fouadi, A.-H. A. Enki’s Journey to Nippur: The Journeys of the Gods. PhD. Diss. University of Pennsylvania. Amberber, M. Valency-changing and Valency-encoding Devices in Amharic. Dixon, R. M. W.; Aikhenvald, A. Yu. (eds.). Changing Valency: Case Studies in Transitivity. Cambridge. Pp. 312–32. Attinger, P. Inana et Ebi¶. ZA 88:164–195. Attinger, P. Les prefixes personnels finaux. NABU 2004/75. Bhatt, R.; Embick, D. Causative Derivations in Hindi (http://people.umass.edu/bhatt/papers/bhatt-embickcaus.pdf). Black, J. A. et al. Electronic Text Corpus of Sumerian Literature (www-etcsl.orient.ox.ac.uk). Castellino, G. R. Two Šulgi Hymns (BC) (SS 42). Roma. Comrie, B. Causative Verb Formation and Other Verbderiving Morphology. Shopen, T. (ed.). Language Typology and Syntactic Description. Vol. III. Grammatical Categories and Lexicon. Cambridge. Pp. 309–48. Dixon, R. M. W. A Typology of Causatives: Form, Syntax and Meaning. Dixon, R. M. W.; Aikhenvald, A. Yu.

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Edzard 1997 Edzard 2003 Falkenstein 1956 Falkenstein 1957 Ferrara 1973 Frayne 1990 Heimpel 1981 Jacobsen 1965

Karahashi 2008 Kramer 1949 Landsberger et al. 1956 Römer 1980 Santorini–Kroch 2007

Sladek 1974 Steible 1982 Vanstiphout 2003 Zólyomi 2000

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(eds.). Changing Valency: Case Studies in Transitivity. Cambridge. Pp. 30–83. Edzard, D. O. Gudea and His Dynasty (RIME 3/1). Toronto. Edzard, D. O. Sumerian Grammar (HdO 1/71). Leiden– Boston. Falkenstein, A. Die neusumerischen Gerichtsurkunden. II. Umschrift, Übersetzung und Kommentar. Munich. Falkenstein, A. Sumerische religiöse Texte. ZA 52:56–75. Ferrara, A. J. Nanna-Suen’s Journey to Nippur (StP SM 2). Rome. Frayne, D. Old Babylonian Period (2003–1595 BC) (RIME 4). Toronto. Heimpel, W. The Nanshe Hymn. JCS 33:65–139. Jacobsen, T. About the Sumerian Verb. Güterbock, H. G.; Jacobsen, T. (eds.). Studies in Honor of Benno Landsberger on his Seventy-Fifth Birthday (AS 16). Chicago. Pp. 71–102. Karahashi, F. Argument Structure of Sumerian Verbs I: Causative Alternation. Chuo University Kiyo 53:77–96. Kramer, S. N. Schooldays: A Sumerian Composition Relating to the Education of a Scribe. JAOS 69:199–215. Landsberger, B. et al. Materialien zum sumerischen Lexikon. Vol. 4. Roma. Römer, W. H. Ph. Das sumerische Kurzepos “Bilgameš und Akka” (AOAT 209/1). Neukirchen–Vluyn. Santorini, B.; Kroch, A. The Syntax of Natural Language: An Online Introduction Using the Trees Program (http:// www.ling.upenn.edu/~beatrice/syntax-textbook). Sladek, W. R. Inanna’s Descent to the Netherworld. PhD. Diss. The Johns Hopkins University. Ann Arbor. Steible, H. Die altsumerischen Bau- und Weihinschriften. Inschriften aus ‘Lagaš’ (FAOS 5/I). Wiesbaden. Vanstiphout, H. Epics of Sumerian Kings: The Matter of Aratta (WAW 20). Atlanta. Zólyomi, G. Structural Interference from Akkadian in Old Babylonian Sumerian. ASJ 22:335–60.

The Case of the Sumerian Cases Gábor Zólyomi Eötvös Lórand University

Abstract Cases are traditionally identified on the basis of their nominal markers in Sumerology. This understanding is different to the way case is defined in the linguistic literature which think of cases as sets of nominal forms that are mutually substitutable in one or more syntactic environment, and makes a distinction between cases and case-markers, the means by which cases are signaled. This paper will show that the traditional description of Sumerian adverbial cases leads to a number of contradictions. It will suggest that cases defined on the basis of linguistic principles allow one to make generalizations in the description of Sumerian and eventually lead to a simpler and descriptively more adequate grammar. Introduction Cases are traditionally identified on the basis of their nominal markers in Sumerology. In this paper I will argue that some of the adverbial cases should be defined with reference to verbal prefixes as well, because this approach results in a more revealing case-system. The morphological segmentation and glossing of the Sumerian examples in this paper are based on the assumption that the Sumerian finite verbal form exhibits a template morphology.1 Table 1 summarizes the analysis that underlies the glossing of the examples (for details see Zólyomi 2007b):2 1

Template morphology is understood as a system “in which inflectional affixes are apparently organized into a number of position classes such that the members of any given class are mutually exclusive but occupy the same sequential position, or slot, relative to members of other classes within a given word form.” (Stump 2001:33). 2 In my earlier papers on Sumerian grammar I labeled the cases of slot 9 as locative, oblique-locative, and oblique-directive (cf., e. g., Zólyomi 2007a and 2007b). I was warned that the terms oblique-locative and oblique-directive were not only cumbersome and long, but also inaccurate, as locative too must be considered an oblique case. I have therefore decided on changing my terminology

578

Slot 1 Slot 2 Slot 3 Slot 4 Slot 5 Slot 6 Slot 7 Slot 8 Slot 9 Slot 10 Slot 11 Slot 12 Slot 13 Slot 14

Verbal and Nominal Morphology in Sumerian Table 1. The structural positions of the Sumerian finite verbal form MODAL prefixes COORDINATOR prefix VENTIVE (= cislocative) prefix MIDDLE prefix or 3NH INITIAL PRONOMINAL prefix (specifying the person, gender and number of the first in the sequence of the prefixes of slots 6–9) INITIAL PRONOMINAL prefix (specifying the person, gender and number of the first in the sequence of the prefixes of slots 6–9) DATIVE prefix Adverbial I: COMITATIVE prefix Adverbial II: ABLATIVE or TERMINATIVE prefix Adverbial III: LOCATIVE1, LOCATIVE2, or LOCATIVE3 prefix FINAL PRONOMINAL prefix (referring to A or P, depending on the tense) VERBAL STEM PRESENT-FUTURE MARKER PRONOMINAL

(in intransitive verbs) suffix (referring to A, S, or P, depending on the tense)

SUBORDINATOR

Cases in Sumerian and in linguistics I will begin with comparing the concept of case in Sumerology and in linguistics. Table 2 shows the ten nominal cases distinguished in Thomsen’s Sumerian grammar (1984). Note that, except for the case-marker -/e/, there is a oneto-one correspondence between the cases and the case-markers, called as postpositions by Thomsen. This is no coincidence, as Thomsen identifies cases solely on the basis of their nominal markers. Edzard’s grammar (2003) distinguishes the same cases based on the same principle. The only difference is that Thomsen’s locative-terminative is called directive by him. Table 2. The Sumerian case-system (according to Thomsen 1984:88) Animate Inanimate Prefix Chain Genitive §§ 161–168 -ak -ak Absolutive § 169 -Ø -Ø Ergative § 173 -e -e Dative §§ 175–179 -ra -na- etc. Locative §§ 180–187 -a -niComitative §§ 188–194 -da -da -daTerminative §§ 195–202 -šè -šè -šiAblative-Instrumental §§ 203–213 -ta -ta- and -raLocative-Terminative § 174 -e -niEquative §§ 214–220 -gin7 -gin7 and using the method of numbering as is used in some typological descriptions of languages with a rich system of adverbial cases.

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In the two most popular Sumerian grammars cases are thus distinguished solely by their nominal markers. The principle underlying this approach is this: each distinct case-marker defines a separate case. The traditional approach abandons this principle only for the sake of the casemarker -/e/, as it distinguishes between the ergative and the locativeterminative not by their markers but by the distribution of the nominal forms and by the verbal affixes indexed with them. The traditional understanding of case in Sumerian is quite different from the way case is defined in the linguistic literature that makes a distinction between cases and case-markers, the means by which cases are signaled. Cliff Goddard, for example, describes cases in the following way: “It should be clear that the concept of case is based on relationships of form AND distribution—roughly, a case is a class of nominal forms which are mutually substitutable in certain syntactic or semantic environments given that any two cases, casei and casej, are formally distinguished by at least one subclass of nominal.” (Goddard 1982:169). One can find similar definitions in Blake 1985, Comrie 1991, and Blake 1994. In the following I will refer to the approach summarized in Goddard’s definition as the distributional approach to cases, and will refer to the traditional descriptions of Sumerian cases as the formal approach. Consider now Tables 3 and 4. They display the singular forms of two Russian words, both meaning approximately ‘newspaper’. The two words belong to different grammatical genders, consequently the same cases are marked with different markers except for the prepositional case. In Table 3 the word-forms are arranged according to the form of the casemarkers, while in Table 4, they are arranged according to the functions of the cases. These functions have obviously been identified using the distributional approach. Table 3. Russian cases arranged according to the form of their markers CASE-MARKER FUNCTION -Ø m. Nom. and Acc. (журнал) -a m. Gen. (журнала), f. Nom. (газета) -u m. Dat. (журналу), f. Acc. (газету) -e m., f. Prep. (журнале), f. Dat. (газете) -y f. Gen. (газеты) -om m. Instr. (журналом) -oj f. Instr. (газетой)

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Verbal and Nominal Morphology in Sumerian Table 4. Russian cases arranged according to their functions CASE

MASCULINE

FEMININE

Nominative Accusative Genitive Dative Instrumental Prepositional

журнал журнал журнала журналу журналом (о) журнале

газета газету газеты газете газетой (о) газете

Table 3 gives a chaotic impression, making it difficult for someone to make straightforward generalizations about the function of the nominal forms. The arrangement of Table 4 on the other hand makes it easy to identify the function of a given word-form immediately. Returning to Sumerian, it is easy to see that the principles underlying the traditional descriptions of case in Sumerian correspond to the principles underlying the arrangement in Table 3. Thomsen and Edzard’s treatment of cases relies on a long tradition of grammatical description. Many generations of sumerologists have been brought up in this tradition and produced good enough translations of thousands and thousands of Sumerian texts. Were they all wrong? Let us see! The identification of cases is always a language-specific procedure. In some languages the formal and the distributional approaches result in the same case-system, in other languages, like for example in Russian and Latin, they do not. The basic question is therefore this: Are case-markers alone enough in Sumerian to identify cases? This is an absolutely non-trivial question and in the remaining part of the paper I will argue that they are not. In particular, I will claim that some of the adverbial cases can only be identified with reference to verbal prefixes in Sumerian. My argument will focus on nominal forms with the case-marker -/ra/, the case-marker traditionally identified with the dative case. Consider example (1) which shows the most common use of the casemarker -/ra/. The noun phrase case-marked with /ra/ corresponds to a prefix /nna/ in the verbal prefix-chain. I analyze this /nna/ prefix further into an initial pronominal prefix /nn/ and an adverbial prefix /a/.

G. Zólyomi, The Case of Sumerian Cases (1) ELA 420 (ETCSL 1.8.2.3)3 d en-me-er-kar2-ra en-ki-ke4 ×eštug2 enmerkar=ra enkik=e ×eštug=ø PN=DAT DN=ERG ear=ABS ‘Enki gave wisdom to Enmerkar.’

581

mu-na-an-sum2 mu-S5nn-S6a-S10n-S11sum-S13ø VEN-3SG-DAT- A.3SG-give-P.3NH S3

The relationship between the noun phrase and the composite verbal prefix is schematized in Table 5. It shows that the role of the adverbial prefix /a/ corresponds to the role of the case-marker -/ra/, both serve for identifying the syntactic function of the verbal participant. Table 5 NOUN PHRASE REFERENTIAL EXPRESSION CASE-MARKER

Enmerkar -/ra/

VERBAL PREFIX S5 /nn/ S6 /a/

In the traditional descriptions of Sumerian the relationship between noun phrases and adverbial prefixes is basically thought to be a kind of concord or agreement (see Thomsen 1984:214ff., Edzard 2003:2). Agreement is a grammatical relationship in which one can distinguish a controller and a target. For example, in the German sentence “Mein Vater beobachtet” the verb agrees with the subject, and the agreement is marked with the suffix -/et/. (2) a) Mein Vater beobacht-et b) Er beobacht-et c) *Beobacht-et

3 In the examples quoted here, the first line represents the Sumerian text in standard graphemic transliteration; the second, a segmentation into morphemes which interprets the first line; the third, a morpheme-by-morpheme glossing; and the fourth, a translation. The morphemic glossing follows the conventions of “The Leipzig Glossing Rules” (http://www.eva.mpg.de/lingua/files/morpheme. html). Abbreviations used in the morphemic glosses: ~PL = reduplication expressing verbal plurality; 3NH = third person non-human; 3PL = third person plural; 3SG = third person singular human; A = agent, the subject of transitive verbs; ABL = ablative; ABS = absolutive; DAT = dative; DEM = demonstrative pronoun; DIR = directive; DN = divine name; ERG = ergative; GEN = genitive; GN = geographical name; H = human; L1 = locative1; L2 = locative2; L3 = locative3; LOC = locative; NH = non-human; P = patient, the object of transitive verbs; PL = plural; PN = personal name; POSS = possessive enclitic; S = subject, the subject of intransitive verbs; TN = temple name; VEN = ventive. The sign “=” links enclitics to their hosts.

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Here the controller is the noun phrase “Mein Vater” and the target is the verb. In the German sentence, the noun phrase “Mein Vater” can be replaced by the pronoun “Er”, but either the noun phrase or the pronoun must be present in the sentence: the verbal form alone without a controller (as in example 2c) results in a grammatically incorrect sentence. In example (1), the relationship between the noun phrase casemarked with the enclitic -/ra/ and the prefix /nna/ is different from the German-type agreement. This relationship is different first of all because in Sumerian the sentence type 2c is grammatically correct. In example (3), for example, the beneficiary is expressed solely through the composite verbal prefix /nn/ + /a/, no controller is present. (3) Gudea Cyl. A 15:6 (ETCSL 2.1.7; Lagaš, 22 c. BCE) elam elam-ta mu-na-×en elam=ø elam=ta S3mu-S5nn-S6a-S11×en-S13ø elamite=ABS GN=ABL VEN-3SG-DAT-go-S.3NH ‘The Elamites came to him (= Gudea) from Elam.’

Verbal prefixes which may occur either alone or may be accompanied by a coreferential noun phrase have been extensively discussed in the lingusistic literature (see Corbett 2003:164–192 or 2006:99–112 for a summary). They are distinguished both from agreement markers and from free pronouns. Agreement markers may not occur alone, while free pronouns occur in complementary distribution with lexical nominals. The term that has established itself for this third kind of linguistic element is pronominal affix. As table 6 shows, they share their syntactic behaviour with pronouns, and share their morphological behaviour with other inflectional affixes. Pronominal affixes may exceptionally occur also with free pronouns, but only to emphasize a contrast with expectation or a shift in topic, just like in Sumerian. Table 6. The syntax and morphology of pronominal affixes (after Corbett 2003:169, Fig. 1) syntax: non-argument argument linguistic element: ‘pure’ agreement pronominal affix free pronoun marker morphology: inflectional form free form

The composite verbal prefixes of Sumerian (composed of an initial pronominal and an adverbial prefix) must therefore be considered as anaphoric pronouns syntactically. Consequently, in example (1) the relationship between the noun phrase case-marked with the enclitic -/ra/ and

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the verbal prefix /nn/ + /a/ is not agreement, but in fact coreferentiality, they refer to or index the same verbal participant. Consider now the following three pairs of examples, examples (4) to (8), and example (1), repeated here for the sake of convenience. These six examples are provided with two slightly different lines of morphological glossing. The first one reflects the terminology and analysis of the traditional descriptions, the second one anticipates my own analysis and terminology. The second examples of each pair contain a noun phrase marked with the case-marker -/ra/. Each pair contains the same verb, in the same meaning. The first examples differ from the second ones in the grammatical gender of the verbal participant that is marked with -/ra/ in the second examples. So, for instance, in example (6) the human object of claim is marked with -/ra/, while in example (5) the same verbal participant belongs to the non-human gender and is marked with the casemarker -/’a/. (4) Ukg. 16, 1:1–5 (Lagaš, 24 c. BCE) lu2 ummaki-ke4 e2-ki-bir2-ra-ke4 izi ba-sum2 lu umma=ak=e ekibirak=e izi=ø S4b-S6a-S10n-S11sum-S13ø man GN=GEN=ERG TN=DIR fire=ABS 3NH-DAT-A.3SG-give-P.3NH man GN=GEN=ERG TN=DAT.NH fire=ABS 3NH-DAT-A.3SG-give-P.3NH ‘The Ummaite set fire to the Ekibira (lit. “gave fire to it”).’ (1) ELA 420 (ETCSL 1.8.2.3) en-me-er-kar2-ra den-ki-ke4 ×eštug2 enmerkar=ra enkik=e ×eštug=ø PN=DAT DN=ERG ear=ABS PN=DAT.H DN=ERG ear=ABS ‘Enki gave wisdom to Enmerkar.’

mu-na-an-sum2 S3mu-S5nn-S6a-S10n-S11sum-S13ø VEN-3SG-DAT-A.3SG-give-P.3NH VEN-3SG-DAT-A.3SG-give-P.3NH

(5) NSGU 194:31′ (Lagaš, 21 c. BCE) lu2-ge-na ab2-ba inim bi2-×ar lugena=e ab=bi=’a inim=ø S4b-S9i-S10n-S11×ar-S13ø PN=ERG cow=DEM=LOC word=ABS 3NH-DIR-A.3SG-put-P.3NH PN=ERG cow=DEM=L2.NH word=ABS 3NH-L2-A.3SG-put-P.3NH ‘(Ur-Ninmarki bought a cow from Abakala.) Lugena laid a claim to that cow (lit. “put a word on that cow”).’ (6) NSGU 205:2–4 (Lagaš, 21 c. BCE) m igi-sag9-ga igisaga PN1 PN1

urdu2 urdu slave slave

maš-gu-la-ra mašgula=ak=ra PN2=GEN=dat PN2=GEN=L2.H

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i3-bi2-la maš-gu-la-ke4-ne inim in-ni-×a2×arar-eš 4 ibila mašgula=ak=ene=e inim=ø S5inn-S9i-S10n-S11×ar-S13eš heir PN2=GEN=PLUR=ERG word=ABS 3SG-DIR-A.3SG-put-A.3PL heir PN2=GEN=PLUR=ERG word=ABS 3SG-L2-A.3SG-put-A.3PL ‘The heirs of Mašgula laid a claim to Igisaga, the slave of Mašgula.’ (7) Gudea Cyl. A 4:4 (ETCSL 2.1.7; Lagaš, 22 c. BCE) kar ni×in6ki-na-ke4 ma2 bi2-us2 kar ni×in=ak=e ma=ø S4b-S9i-S10n-S11us-S13ø quay GN=GEN=DIR boat=ABS 3NH-DIR-A.3SG-be.next-P.3NH quay GN=GEN=L3.NH boat=ABS 3NH-L3-A.3SG-be.next-P.3NH ‘He (= Gudea) moored the boat at the quay of Ni×in.’ (8) Gudea Cyl. B 19:20–21 (ETCSL 2.1.7; Lagaš, 22 c. BCE) d d en-lil2-ra nin-ma¶ mu-ni-us2 enlil=ra ninma¶=ø S3mu-S5nn-S9i-S10n-S11us-S13ø DN1=DAT DN2=ABS VEN-3SG-DIR-A.3SG-be.next-P.3H DN1=L3.H DN2=ABS VEN-3SG-L3-A.3SG-be.next-P.3H ‘He (= Gudea) seated Ninma¶ next to Enlil.’

Table 7 gives a summary of the patterns used in the three pairs of examples. A fourth pattern is added as it involves one of the case-markers, the case-marker -/’a/, which also plays a role in Pattern III. Example 9 provides an example of the use of this fourth pattern. (9) Gudea Cyl. A 23:7 (ETCSL 2.1.7; Lagaš, 22 c. BCE) e2-a mi-ni-šu4-šu4 e=’a S3mi-S9ni-S10n-S11šug~šug-S13ø temple=L1 VEN-L1-3SG.A-stand.PL~PL-3NH.P ‘He (= Gudea) had each of them (= stone basins) stand in the temple.’ Table 7. Summary of the adverbial patterns5 CASE-MARKER

Pattern I (exx. 4 and 1) (= dative) Pattern II (exx. 7–8) (= locative3) Pattern III (exx. 5–6) (= locative2) Pattern IV (ex. 9) (= locative1) 4

ADV. PREF.

HUMAN

NON-H.

-/ra/

-/e/

S6

-/ra/

-/e/

S9

-/ra/

-/’a/

S9

—

-/’a/

FUNCTION

/a/ /i/ /i/

/ni/

S9

adessive, allative superessive, sublative inessive, illative

For marking plural agents of preterite verbal forms with circumfixes, see Zólyomi 2007b:27. 5 Note that the verbal prefixes are listed in their most basic form in the table. For a recent discussion of their various allomorphs, see Jagersma 2006.

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Can the traditional, formal approach account for these patterns? It cannot, and results in clumsy descriptions. When, for example, describing examples (5) and (6), the formal approach cannot but claim that the idiom inim — ×ar marks the object of the claim with the locative if it belongs to the non-human gender, but with the dative if it belongs to the human gender. It also states that in both cases the same participant shows agreement with a directive prefix in the verbal prefix-chain. And imagine if example (6) had the form in another context like example (10), that is, the object of the claim were only expressed through a verbal prefix. So in which case were then the verbal participant Igisaga, the slave of Mašgula? The formal approach is forced to claim that in the directive, as it is expressed solely through a directive prefix in the clause. *(10) i3-bi2-la maš-gu-la-ke4-ne inim in-ni-×a2×arar-eš ibila mašgula=ak=ene=e inim=ø S5inn-S9i-S10n-S11×ar-S13eš heir PN2=GEN=PLUR=ERG word=ABS 3SG-DIR-A.3SG-put-A.3PL heir PN2=GEN=PLUR=ERG word=ABS 3SG-L2-A.3SG-put-A.3PL ‘The heirs of Mašgula laid a claim to him (= Igisaga).’

In sum, the traditional understanding of Sumerian cases forces one to accept that the same verb uses different cases to mark the same participant depending on the grammatical gender of that participant, or depending on whether the participant is expressed only through a verbal prefix or as a noun phrase in the clause. Let us now apply Goddard’s definition of case, that is the distributional approach to the linguistic evidence summarized in Table 7. It is easy to see that in examples 5 and 6 the noun phrases case-marked with -/ra/ and -/’a/ respectively are mutually substitutable. The similarity of the syntactic and semantic environment is also signalled by the use of the same adverbial prefix. It is therefore fair to conclude that this pattern is a case. The recognition of this case labelled here as locative2 makes it very easy to describe the construction used with the idiom inim — ×ar. Instead of the clumsy description of the formal approach, one can just state that the idiom marks the verbal participant functioning as the object of the claim with the locative2 case. Pattern II and Pattern III are identified as different cases because they use a different case-marker with non-human nouns. That is they are formally distinguished by at least one subclass of nominals which qualifies them as separate cases according to Goddard’s definition.

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We have now come to the role of the adverbial prefixes in the recognition of cases. I have argued earlier that the composite verbal prefixes of Sumerian are not agreement markers, but must be considered syntactically as anaphoric pronouns. They consist of an adverbial prefix preceded by an initial personal prefix that shows agreement in person, number, and gender with a coreferential noun phrase which may or may not be present in the clause. At the same time these composite prefixes make more or other formal distinctions than nominals. Pronouns often do this, one has to think only of the English personal pronouns. The division of labor between noun phrases and coreferential verbal prefixes is comparable to the relationship between nouns and adjectives in Latin when an adjective makes more distinctions than the noun. Consider Table 8. The word form dominae is ambiguous, it can be either genitive or dative. If it is modified with an adjective of the third declension, which has different forms in the genitive and the dative, then its syntactic function becomes clear. Table 8 NOUN

ADJECTIVE

NOUN PHRASE

dominae mistress.SG.GEN

tristis sad.SG.GEN

lugal=ra king=DAT.H

e=e house=DAT.NH

dominae mistress.SG.DAT

tristī sad.SG.DAT

lugal=ra king=L3.H

e=e house=L3.NH

ADVERBIAL PREFIX S6

/a/

DAT

S9

/i/

L3

The Sumerian cases dative and locative3, Patterns I and II of Table 7, differ only in the form of the verbal prefix indexing the noun phrase. The syntactic function of these nominal forms varies with the form of the adverbial prefix. In fact, if the coreferential noun phrase is not present in the clause, it is only the verbal prefix that helps the hearer or reader to identify the syntactic function of the verbal participant it refers to. In Latin cases are recognized using the distributional approach, consequently the word form dominae is considered to be the homonymous case-form of two separate cases, the genitive and the dative. One cannot escape the conclusion that the Sumerian evidence must be evaluated in the same way: Pattern I and II are two separate, although, with regard to their nominal forms, homonymous cases. By the same token, noun phrases case-marked with the case-marker -/’a/ are either in the locative1 or in the locative2 case depending on the verbal prefix.

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Until now I have focused on the formal aspect of the Sumerian casesystem. But the whole exercise is pointless, unless it results in a better understanding of the function of the adverbial cases. As a matter of fact, it does. The four cases of table 7 that have been identified using the distributional approach have well-definable meanings. Some of these meanings are, however, simply undetectable for the formal approach to cases. In the last part of the paper I will compare the formal and distributional approaches in terms of their description of the local cases’ meaning. In languages with a rich inventory of local cases, the local cases form a system. In these systems the cases stand in multilateral oppositions expressing language-specific local distinctions. The structure of the Sumerian verbal prefix-chain reflects these oppositions. As Table 1 above shows the terminative and the ablative prefix occupy the same slot, that is, they are in a complementary distribution. This is just expected as something moving away from something cannot move towards it at the same time. It is much less obvious what are the oppositions among the cases whose verbal prefixes occupy slot no. 9, the last adverbial slot. In Table 7, I have called these cases locative1, locative2, and locative3. Table 9 shows the system of Sumerian local cases in an arrangement in which their distinctions can be recognized easily. The basic distinction is between cases with contact and without contact. The cases with contact differ from the cases without contact in the certainty of the contact: locative1, locative2, and the locative3 always involve a direct contact; direct contact may occur also with the other cases, but its occurrence is not necessarily implied, it is only optional. It is a nice manifestation of linguistic iconicity that the verbal prefixes of cases that imply contact occupy the adverbial slot nearest to the verbal base. In slot no. 9 the main distinction is between locative1 on the one hand, and locative2 and locative3 on the other hand. The locative1 implies movement into or location in the inside of an entity, while both locative2 and locative3 imply movement to or location at the outside of an entity. This is therefore the cross-linguistically well-attested distinction between exterior and interior cases. The distinction between locative2 and locative3 encodes a difference in relative orientation: both cases imply proximity and contact from outside, but the locative2 implies horizontal direct contact (= above), while the locative3 implies a nonhorizontal direct contact (= beside). q

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Verbal and Nominal Morphology in Sumerian Table 9. The system of adverbial cases in Sumerian

exterior

without contact (slot 7–8)

adjacent

DESTINATION

SOURCE

“at”

“to”

“from”

locative1

interior with contact (slot 9)

LOCATION

horizontal (“above”) nonhorizontal (“beside”)

locative2

— — —

locative3

comitative

terminative

ablative

In the system just outlined, the case-marker -/’a/ may have two different meanings depending on the verbal prefix. When it is indexed with /ni/, it is a marker of locative1, an interior case, while when it is indexed with /i/, it is a marker of locative2, an exterior case, see examples (9) and (5) above. In example (5), the idiom inim — ×ar uses locative2, as the verb ×ar governs this case when it means ‘to put something on something’, one can observe this use, for example, in hundreds of Ur III documents about boats loaded with something. How does the formal approach fare with these differences in meaning? Thomsen describes the use of the case-marker -/’a/ which she identifies with the locative case in the following way: “The locative denotes the place ‘where’ ” (Thomsen 1984:98). Michalowski, who is also an adherent of the formal approach, states about the case-marker -/’a/ labelled as locative 1 by him that it “marks the inanimate place where an action takes place” (Michalowski 2004:34). The problem with these descriptions is that they are vague, and so quite unhelpful when one has to teach the uses of Sumerian cases to beginners. At the same time they are inaccurate, as the case-marker -/’a/ may refer to both location and destination. The differences between the meanings of the case-marker -/’a/ are formally encoded in the verbal morphology, which is invisible for the formal approach. Instead of recognizing the syntactically relevant meanings of a given case-marker as different cases, the formal approach must resort to makeshift explanations. Consider the following description of the use of the case-marker /ra/, called dative case by Michalowski:

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“The dative marks the beneficiary of an action … but also functions as locative with animates (‘upon the king’) …” (Michalowski 2004:34). The dative functioning as locative, a contradiction in terms, corresponds to the human marker of locative2, and Michalowski’s description does not mention the important fact that the two functions he lists are distinguished formally by the use of different verbal prefixes. Edzard’s grammar (2003) is the first one I know of which defines some of the cases in relation to each other. In Table 10, he characterizes the meaning of the locative, that is the meaning of the case-marker -/’a/ as illative and inessive which corresponds to the meaning of the case I call locative1. Table 10 (from Edzard 2003:44) Locative:

or

motion towards

Terminative: Directive:

motion into, position inside

or

motion arriving at, position next to

But on another page of the grammar he states: “The main function of the locative is to indicate rest and arrest at a goal, not movement toward or into something (which would rather be rendered by the terminative …), there is no insistence on direct contact.” (Edzard 2003:39). Here he characterizes the meaning of the same case in a way similar to the meaning of the case that I label locative2. These are contradictory descriptions, and I think that the contradiction between them originates in fact in the method itself, that is in the formal approach, which aims to establish the syntactically relevant functions of cases relying solely on the form of case-markers without paying attention to syntax, encoded in the verbal morphology. Returning to the question posed earlier by me as to whether all sumerologists working with cases based on the formal approach are wrong, the answer, of course, is that they are not. But this is not the point. The point is that descriptions of Sumerian still adhere to a terminology that reflects neither the achievements and methodology of modern descriptive linguistics nor our improved knowledge about the functioning of Sumerian nominal and verbal morphology. The use of a terminology that conforms to the principles of modern descriptive linguistics may not only lead to a simpler and more adequate description of

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Sumerian grammar, but would surely make Sumerian more accessible to contemporary linguistic research. References Blake 1985

Blake 1994 Comrie 1991

Corbett 2003

Corbett 2006 Goddard 1982

Edzard 2003 Jagersma 2006 Michalowski 2004

Stump 2001

Thomsen 1984

Zólyomi 2007a

Zólyomi 2007b

Blake, B. J. Case Markers, Case and Grammatical Relations: An Addendum to Goddard. Australian Journal of Linguistics 5:79–84. Blake, B. J. Case (Cambridge Textbooks in Linguistics). Cambridge. Comrie, B. Form and Function in Identifying Cases. Plank, F. (ed.). Paradigms: The Economy of Inflection (Empirical Approaches to Language Typology 9). Berlin– New York. Pp. 41–56. Corbett, G. G. Agreement: The Range of the Phenomenon and the Principles of the Surrey Database of Agreement. Transactions of the Philological Society 101:155–202. Corbett, G. G. Agreement (Cambridge Textbooks in Linguistics). Cambridge etc. Goddard, C. Case Systems and Case Marking in Australian Languages: A New Interpretation. Australian Journal of Linguistics 2:167–196. Edzard, D. O. Sumerian Grammar (HDO I/71). Leiden– Boston. Jagersma, B. The Final Person-Prefixes and the Passive. NABU 2006/93. Michalowski, P. Sumerian. Woodward, R. D. (ed.). The Cambridge Encyclopedia of the World’s Ancient Languages. Cambridge. Pp. 19–59. Stump, G. T. Inflection. Spencer, A.; Zwicky, A. M. (eds.). The Handbook of Morphology (Blackwell Handbooks in Linguistics). Oxford–Malden. Pp. 13–43. Thomsen, M.-L. The Sumerian Language. An Introduction to Its History and Grammatical Structure (Mesopotamia 10). Copenhagen. Zólyomi, G. Left-dislocated Possessors in Sumerian. Katalin, É. K. (ed.). Universal Grammar in the Reconstruction of Ancient Languages (Studies in Generative Grammar 83). Berlin–New York. Pp. 161–188. Zólyomi, G. Sumerisch. Streck, M. (Hrsg.). Sprachen des Alten Orients. Darmstadt. Pp. 11–43.

Akkadian: Diachrony and Contact

Amorite Names Written with the Sign Ú and the Issue of the Suffixed Third Person Masculine Singular Pronoun in Amorite* Viktor Golinets University of Leipzig–University of Basel

1. Introduction Amorite is the second oldest attested Semitic language (if one counts Eblaite as a variety of Akkadian) and the oldest attested West Semitic language. Although it has been known to the scientific community for over a hundred and twenty years, Amorite still remains one of the least studied ancient Semitic languages. The main obstacle to research is the absence of written sources: to date there is no text that can be analysed as Amorite. We know, however, from the Mari texts that Amorite was a spoken language at that time.1 The only source for reconstructing it is the Amorite onomasticon.2 In order to understand any specific feature of Amorite grammar, one needs to understand a name which exhibits the feature in question. Both comparative Semitic morphology and onomastics guide researchers in the study of the Amorite grammar. 1.1. The sign Ú as a representation of the suffixed 3 m. sg. pronoun: History of interpretation In this study I want to address the question of the attestation of the suffixed personal pronoun of the third person masculine singular in Amorite. Because there is no Amorite text known to us, we cannot expect to find an independent form of any personal pronoun. The only forms which could be found are suffixed forms.

* I thank Michael P. Streck for discussing with me some issues addressed in this study and Martin Worthington for proofreading and various comments. 1 Streck 2000, § 1.83 and 84. Lexical lists mention Amorite alongside Sumerian, Akkadian, Elamite, Subarian and other languages, cf. Streck 2000, § 1.85. 2 Cf. Streck 2000, § 1.2 about the Amorite onomasticon in general.

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The only study that deals at length with Amorite personal pronouns is the description of Amorite grammar by Ignace Gelb, “La lingua degli amoriti” (1958). Here, p. 152, § 3.1.1.1.6, he listed the following names, in which he saw evidence for the 3 m. sg. suffixed pronoun in the genitive: Pu-ú-dda-gan I-la-¶a-ad-nu-ú I-la-kab-ka-bu-ú Zu-ra-¶a-am-mu-ú

Puhu-Dagān (5174M);3 !Ila-¦adnuhu (2530M); !Ila-kabkabuhu (2534M); Ýūra-"ammuhu (6615M).

Gelb interpreted the spellings with the sign Ú as representations of the suffixed 3 m. sg. pronoun, which he reconstructed as -hu according to the evidence provided by other West Semitic languages. It is -hu in Ugaritic, -hū in Hebrew, -ha in Arabic. According to Gelb (loc. cit.), defective spellings of the pronoun in question occur less frequently than plene spellings. He quoted as examples: Zu-ra-¶a-am-mu Ia-am-zi-¶a-ad-nu

Ýūra-"ammu(hu) (6614M); JāmÀī!-¦adnu(hu) (2964M).

Alongside these examples for the suffixed genitive pronoun, Gelb (1958: 152, § 3.1.1.2.2) also listed examples for the suffixed 3 m. sg. pronoun in the accusative: Ia-a¶-zi-bu-ú Ì-lí-i¶-nu-ú A-ad-lu-ú Ia-di-ú [L]a?-ri-im-i-ba-lu-ú

Jā"zibuhu (2880M); !Ilī-jiµnūhu? (2730D); Jadlūhu (16D); Jādi"hu (3212B); …jibaluhu (4322M).

Gelb was not the first to analyse the morphophonemic feature expressed by the sign Ú in this way. This interpretation was first proposed by Fritz Hommel in 1897. He interpreted the name “Sumhu-amara” as ‘His name

3 This and the next ten transcriptions of the names are taken from Gelb 1958. Other transcriptions are mine unless otherwise noted. The numbers after the examples refer to the Index of names in Gelb 1980:552–653 or to other sources. A letter following a number designates the geographical provenance of the given name: “A” for Alala¶; “B” for Babylonia; “D” for the Dijala-region; “Ú” for Úana; “M” for Mari; “U” for Ugarit. “Late” means that the attestation dates from the first millennium B.C. A question mark after the number signifies that the provenance is not clear. “F” or “M” before the number means that a person behind a name is feminine or masculine according to the text. “Nom” and “Gen” mean that a name appears contextually in the nominative or genitive. The name Pu-úd da-gan is Akkadian (cf. Huffmon 1965:112).

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595

commanded,’ “Sumhu-apika” as ‘His name is mighty,’ “Sumhu-watara” as ‘His name is prevailing,’ “Sumhu-japi"a” as ‘His name is shining,’ “Sumhu-rijāmu” as ‘His name is loftiness’ (Hommel 1897:83–85; 98–103 and Hommel 1904/1926:140). In 1904/1926:95, 140 Hommel maintained that sumu-hû ‘his name’ was contracted to sumû. In all cases he cited the names in connected transcription and gave no example of their original orthography. Hommel supposed that what we now consider to be Amorite names attested in Akkadian texts were South Arabian (Hommel 1897:58–117 and Hommel 1904/1926:92, 129ff.). Therefore he interpreted the element “Sum-hu” in accordance with his analysis of Sabaic names Smh!mr, Smh!pq, Smhwtr, Smhkrb, Smhsm", Smh"ly, Smhrym (cf. Hayajneh 1988:29, the names are collected in Ryckmans 1934:266).4 H. Grimme (1912:14) understood such names in the same manner. He translated Sumuabu as ‘His godly manifestation is father’ (‘Seine göttliche Erscheinungsform ist Vater’), because according to him the name of a deity is tantamount to the manifestation of that deity.5 T. Bauer (1926:58) criticised Hommel’s interpretation on the grounds that the ending -u in sumu could not be a contracted vowel of sumu + hu because of the existence of names like Sa-ma-AN (5431B, M) with the ending -a on the element śam: “if the last vowel in sumû is a contracted vowel, then the variant sama is impossible.”6 É. Dhorme (1928:69, note 2), could not provide any other explanation of sumu than Hommel and accepted Hommel’s analysis in spite of Bauer’s objections. 4

Hommel also cites the Minean name Sms!mn (Ryckmans 1934:266). According to Garbini 1974:65 (with references), the reading has been improved and this name in the form cited by Hommel can be cancelled. (I owe this information to Peter Stein.) 5 “Der ‘Name’ eines Gottes ist gleichbedeutend mit ‘Erscheinungsform’ oder ‘Aeusserung’.” 6 I transcribe the sibilant as /ś/ following Gelb 1980 and Streck 2000. Gelb 1980:182 analysed Sa-ma-AN as Śamān. But even if this name includes the suffix -ān, there are other names that include the word śam or śum ‘name, descendant,’ with the ending -a. These names are Sa-ma-a-da-¶[i-i]m (Gen, 5426M), Sa-ma-a-da¶u (5427M), Sa-ma-a-da-¶u-um (5428M) Śamâdā"u(m) < *Śama-yadā"um ‘The descendant of knowledge (?)’ (for translation see Streck 2000, § 2.20, 2.26, 3.67); Sama-me-el (5433M), Ša-ma-me-el (5817D) Śama-mêl < *Śama-ma-!el ‘Really a descendant of god’; Su-ma-i-la (5584B) Śuma-!ila ‘Descendant of god,’ etc. Streck 2000, § 2.39, has shown that śam is a variant of śum (cf. also Aistleitner 1957:293, § 12f.). The base śim is also attested in Amorite (Streck 2000, loc. cit).

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F. Thureau-Dangin (1934:142f.) also agreed with Hommel, explaining sumu as a contraction of sumu-hu in spite of Bauer’s objections. On the other hand, he pointed out that the final -u could be a nominative ending. C.-F. Jean’s opinion (1950:88b) was that in the name Sa-mu-ú-i-l-a “Le -u peut représenter le pron. suff. aram. ‫”ה‬, the pronoun’s referent being a deity. M. Noth (1953:132) pointed out that the ending -u remains the same regardless of the grammatical case in which a name appears contextually. This ending never bears mimation. As an explanation for this phenomenon he suggested that the West Semitic appellative words "ammu ‘father’s brother,’ ¶ālu ‘mother’s brother’ and śumu ‘name (= descendant)’ resisted integration into Akkadian syntax (p. 133f.). This -u could be a “West Semitic case ending” (p. 134). J. J. Finkelstein (1954:179) wrote about the name La-na-su-ú: “the final u is difficult to explain.” M. Birot (1955:24) understood su-mu-ú simply as ‘the name.’ J. Aistleitner’s position (1957:293, § 12f ), was the same as Hommel’s: the sign Ú represents the suffixed pronoun -hu, which contracted to ū. In the name Su-mu-a-tar (5620late) the defective writing of the suffixed pronoun is attested. Aistleitner related this pronoun to a protective deity in the same way as Hommel. He translated the name Su-mu-a-tar as ‘His, of a protective deity, name is extensive.’ A. Goetze (1958:32) understood the spelling with Ú as a representation of the pronoun -hū. Gelb (1958) did not cite the studies of his forerunners but he must have known them. Besides the arguments presented in older studies, three other factors could have affected his understanding of the morpheme written with the sign Ú. These factors could also have influenced the analysis of the spellings with the sign Ú offered by other scholars before and after Gelb. First, Gelb assumed that the plene orthography in Amorite names does not represent a long vowel but an independent syllable (Gelb 1958: 144, 146, 1.4) in contrast to its general use in cuneiform texts.7 The second consideration seems to be that in syllabically written Ugaritic texts the suffixed 3 m. sg. pronoun is graphically expressed by the sign Ú (cf. Tropper 2000, § 41.221.51). 7 “Contrariamente all’uso generalmente seguito nell’assiriologia [read: “in cuneiform texts”], la ‘scriptio plena’ dei PN amoritici non è usata per indicare vocale lunga ma rappresenta sillabe indipendenti.”

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The third consideration could be the presence of the Akkadian personal names containing suffixed personal pronouns. In Akkadian we find nominal sentence names built with the suffixed genitive pronoun of the 3 m. sg., e. g. Per-ilišu ‘The young shoot of his god’ and Inb-ilišu ‘The fruit of his god’ (Stamm 1939:260); Dān-rigimšu ‘His (Adad’s) voice is mighty’ (Stamm 1939:235); dAnu-ana-kussîšu ‘Anu, (be merciful) to his (i. e. the king’s) throne’ (Stamm 1939:180, note 5); Aliat-subassu ‘Exalted is his dwelling’ (Stamm 1939:187); Nabī-ilišu ‘The one named by his god’ (Stamm 1939:258). The suffixed accusative 3 m. sg. pronoun appears in Akkadian names Uballissu(-dMarduk) ‘He (or: Marduk) made him healthy’ (Stamm 1939:187); Ilšu-ibnīšu ‘His god created him’ and Ilšu-ibbīšu ‘His god named him’ (Stamm 1939:26). Let us turn back to listing the opinions of scholars. H. B. Huffmon (1965:107–116) summarized the older discussion on this subject. He pointed out that in the majority of Amorite names concerned it is the second element of a name that bears the element written with the sign Ú. Further he argued against the interpretation of Ú as a suffixed pronoun. I will refer to his arguments later on. G. Buccellati (1966:192) saw in the spelling with the sign Ú the attestation of the suffixed 3 m. sg. pronoun. In the volumes of the series Archives Royales de Mari the names spelled with the sign Ú at the end are transcribed with -û (passim). Gelb analysed many more Amorite names as containing the pronoun in question in his Computer-Aided Analysis of Amorite (1980:524–526). E. E. Knudsen (1991:875f.) interpreted the Amorite evidence in the same way as Gelb. He commented further (p. 876): “However, since no case distinctions are involved, an analysis as mirror formations -uhū and -ahā would seem preferable.” R. Zadok (1993:323b) made no comment about the element written with the sign Ú in the names he cited. H. Rechenmacher (1997:6, note 15) spoke of the “undoubted use of pronominal suffixes” in Amorite names having no parallels in Hebrew onomastics. However, he cited no examples.8 M. P. Streck (2000) was not convinced that these names include the pronoun. He made no comment on this subject, but consistently supplied with a question mark the transcriptions and translations of the names written with the sign Ú, e. g., § 2.58, 2.162, 2.171, 3.33. 8

Cf. Hayajneh 1988:29, who cites Gelb 1980 and also speaks of the use of the pronoun in Amorite names.

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M. Krebernik (2001:209) supplied with a question mark transcriptions of two names written with the sign Ú at the end. The following chart recapitulates the answers to the question whether the sign Ú represents the suffixed pronoun. Pro Hommel 1897 Grimme 1912

Contra

Not sure

Bauer 1926 Dhorme 1928 Thureau-Dangin 1934 Jean 1950 Noth 1953 Finkelstein 1954 Birot 1955 Aistleitner 1957 Goetze 1958 Gelb 1958; 1980 Huffmon 1965 Buccellati 1966 Knudsen 1991 Zadok 1993 Streck 2000 Krebernik 2001

For my part, I do not think it is correct to interpret the spellings with the sign Ú as representations of the suffixed 3 m. sg. pronoun. I have found six arguments that undermine this interpretation. These arguments pertain to grammar, to the structure and semantics of names, and to the distribution of names in texts. In the following I will cite names from Gelb 1980:524–526 and from other sources. The examples I have chosen are only the names I understand or I believe I understand. It goes without saying that no grammatical conclusions can be drawn from the names whose meanings are not clear. 2. Arguments against the interpretation of spellings with the sign Ú as the pronoun 2.1. Grammatical arguments 2.1.1. First argument: Orthography The first argument pertains to the orthography of Amorite names. The belief that plene orthography in Amorite names does not represent a long vowel but an independent syllable (Gelb 1958:146, 1.4.) influenced

V. Golinets, Amorite Names Written with the Sign Ú…

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Gelb’s argumentation, but it is not plausible because there are indeed cases of plene spellings of contracted vowels (cf. Streck 2000, § 2.80f.). As already noted by Huffmon (1965:113–114), who criticized Gelb’s assertion, the sign Ú is also employed in position where neither morphological elements nor contracted vowels are expected. Ñayya-śumu ‘The descendant is alive,’ the name of the same person (cf. ARM 28, 381) mentioned in some Mari texts, is written in different ways: Úa-ià-su-mu (ARM 28, 50:5; 90bis:1; 95:15); Úa-ià-su-ú-mu (ARM 28, 80:3; 81:2; 82:3; 83:3; 84:3; 85:3; 86:3; 87:3; 88:3; 91:5, 12, 13; 95:12, 13,9 14, 18, 21, 32, 33, 40, 41; 168:27); Úa-ià-sú-ú-mu (ARM 28, 138:24; 147:4); Úa-ià-su-ú-mu-ú (ARM 28, 90:3; 91:10).10

The following spellings occur even on the same tablet: Úa-ià-su-mu (ARM 28, 95:15); Úa-ià-su-ú-mu (ARM 28, 95:12, 13, 14, 18, 21, 32, 33, 40, 41)

and Úa-ià-su-mu-ú (ARM 28, 91:5, 12, 13); Úa-ià-su-ú-mu-ú (ARM 28, 91:10).11

We see that the word śumu ‘name, descendant,’ is variously written as sumu, su-mu-ú, su-ú-mu and sú-ú-mu-ú, although there are neither morphological elements nor contracted vowels in this word, which is etymologically related with the Hebrew šēm < *šim (with secondary vocalic lengthening) and Arabic !ism (cf. Noth 1953:133; Huffmon 1965:113). In this case an additional question arises: how should we explain the spellings with the sign Ú in the middle of the word? I will return to this question in the final section of this study. The fact that the syllabic orthography of Ugaritic texts uses the sign Ú for the indication of the 3 m. sg. pronoun is no reason for considering the sign Ú as a representation of the same pronoun in Amorite names. 9

This text is also published by Bottéro 1981. He reads the name in the line 13 as Úa-ià-su-mu-ú. According to ARM 28, p. 134, and the copy on p. 322 the name is written as Úa-ià-su-ú-mu. 10 Cf. also spellings in different texts: Úa-ià-su-mu-ú (ARM 26/1, 249:3, 14; 45, 22) and Úa-ià-su-ú-mu (ARM 26/1, 126:4, 5; 129:12), the same person, according to ARM 26/1, 596; Úa-ià-su-mu-ú (FM 2, No. 122:22, 29) and Úa-ià-su-ú-mu (FM 2, No. 127:7, 14; same person). 11 Cf. also the spellings Ì-lí-su-mu (ARM 28, 44:28; 65:13); Ì-lí-su-ú-mu (ARM 28, 98:2; 99:7, 12; 100:6, 21; 101:28, 37; 102:12) and Ì-lí-sú-’u5-um (ARM 28, 94:5) which render the name of the same person (cf. ARM 28, 381).

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The sign Ú has a multitude of functions in Amorite names written in cuneiform. 2.1.2. Functions of the sign Ú The sign Ú is employed to indicate various morphophonological features in the same way as it is used in the orthography of Akkadian words. 2.1.2.1. Ú standing for etymologically long vowel /ū/ Lu-ú-¶a-a-ia (ARM 21, 403 ix 15): Lū-µayya ‘May he live.’

Cf. Lu-¶a-a-iaki (ARM 16/1, 21; ARM 26/2, p. 547); Lu-¶a-ia-yuki (ARM 26/2, 353:17): Lū-µayyû ‘The one from Lū-µayya’; Lu-¶a-a-ia-anki (ARM 26/2, 331:10′; 334:7, 11): Lū-µayyān ‘The one from Lū-µayya.’ Zu-ú-da-da (ARM 23, 449:66, 68): Ḏū-dāda ‘The one of the beloved one’;12 Zu-ú-¶a-ad-ni (Gen, ARM 26/2, 317:23): Ḏū-"adni ‘The one of pleasure’; Zu-ú-¶a-ad-nim (Gen, 6630M): Ḏū-"adnum;

cf. Zu-¶a-ad-nim (Gen, 6589M): Ḏū-"adnum; Zu-u-i-la (6631B): Ḏū-!ila ‘The one of god.’ Already Gelb (1958:152, § 3.1.2.1) analysed the last name in this way, despite his view of orthography of Amorite names (cf. Huffmon 1965:114).

2.1.2.2. Ú standing for the long vowel /û/ arisen as a result of vowel contraction In the names derived from tertiae Aleph roots, the root vowel and the Aleph can contract with the vowel of the case ending -u(m). Ia-a¶-bu-ú-um (2830M): Ya¶bûm < *Ya¶ba!um (√ ÚB!), a hypocoristicon of a name like Ia-a¶-ba-dra-sa-ap (2827M): Ya¶ba!-raśap ‘Raśap rescued.’13 Ia-zu-ú-um (ARM 24/1, 223 ii 29): Yay´ûm < Yay´i!um (√ YÔ!), a hypocoristicon of a name like Ia-zi-dda-gan (3606B, M, Ú): Yay´i!-dagan ‘Dagan appeared.’

In the following example the sign Ú could represent either a contraction vowel or a syllable boundary (cf. 2.1.2.8).

12

Cf. Huffmon 1965:186; Gröndahl 1967:191, for other Semitic names built with this relative pronoun. 13 According to Huffmon 1965:110 in one word names the spelling -ú-um could be “a variant of the hypocoristic ending, -u(m).”

V. Golinets, Amorite Names Written with the Sign Ú…

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La-na-su-ú-um (4310M): La-naśûm < La-naśū!um ‘Truly accepted’ (√ NŚ!),

cf. La-na-su-ú (4309B): La-naśû < *La-naśū!u.

2.1.2.3. Ú standing for the first radical of a root which is both primae Aleph and mediae Waw Ia-ú-uš-da-mu (3577M): Ya!ūś-!Amu ‘!Amu granted’ (√ !WŚ); Ia-ú-uš-DINGIR (3578M; 3580C): Ya!ūś-!il ‘The god granted’; Ia-ú-uš-dIM (3579M): Ya!ūś-haddu ‘Haddu granted’; Ia-ú-uš-ba-al (ARM 21, 410 x 21): Ya!ūś-ba"al ‘Ba"al granted.’

Cf. Ia-uš-DINGIR (3586M): Ya!ūś-!il; Ia-uš-dIM (3587M); Ia-úš-dIM (3589M): Ya!ūśhaddu.

2.1.2.4. Ú standing for the radical of primae Waw/Yod roots Ia-ú-zi-lum (3582B): Yaw´îlum < *Yaw´i!-ilum ‘The god appeared’ (√ W/YÔ!); Ia-ú-zi-DINGIR (3581B): Yaw´i!-!il; I-ia-ú-zi (2501M): Yaw´ī.

Cf. Ia-´i-qa-tar (3485B): Yay´i!-qatar ‘The rock appeared’; Ia-´i-DINGIR (3484B): Yay´i!-!il ‘The god appeared.’

2.1.2.5. Ú standing for the second radical of mediae Waw/Yod roots Ku-ú-nu-um (4147D): Kuwwunum/Ku!!unum (√ KWN). Sa-ba-a-ú-um (5370B): Šāba-µayyum ‘The living one is turning (towards the family)’ (√ ÑYY); Á-ú-DINGIR (597U): Ñayyu-!il ‘God is alive’; Úa-ú-um (2207B): Ñayyum, cf. Úa-iu-um (2044B) Ñayyum.

2.1.2.6. Ú standing for the third radical or its contraction in nouns and verbs from tertiae infirmae roots a. substantives Ar-wi-ú (921B, M): Arwiju ‘Gazelle’; Ar-wi-ú-um (922B, M): Arwijum; Ar-wi-um (923B, M): Arwijum.14

14

73).

Gelb took these names for Amorite but they could be Akkadian (cf. AHw.

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I-zi-na-bu-ú (2662B, M): !I´ī-nabû ‘Nabû appeared.’15

b. verbal forms Ia-ar-bu-èl (Kisurra 9A:9), E-[er]-bu-ú-[e]l (Kisurra 152:9′): Ya/erbū-!el ‘The god is great’ (√ RBH/W).

Cf. the Moabitic imperfect form !"nw ‘I will oppress’ (√ "NH/W) in the stele of Meša, line 6. 2.1.2.7. Ú standing for contraction with nisbe (īy + u > û) A-mu-ru-ú (439B): Amurrû.

Cf. A-mu-ur-ru (449M): Ammurû; A-mu-ru-um (441U): Amurrûm; A-mur-ru-um (453B). Ti-il-a-ab-nu-ú (ARM 21, 400:24; ARM 24/1, 61 iii 1; 63 ii 10): Till-!abnû ‘The one from Tell-Abnim’; Ti-il-a-ab-nu (ARM 21, 382 i 16′).16

2.1.2.8. Ú as an indication of the syllable boundary The sign Ú can indicate the syllable boundary between a vocalic ending stem and the vowel of the ending -um. In Akkadian texts Ú is one of a number of signs which perform this function (Reiner 1964:176f.). The Amorite examples are: Ia-wi-ú-um (ARM 23, 451:14), cf. note 14 for Huffmon’s comment on this name; Ia-a¶-wi-um (ARM 23, 448:13); Ia-wi-um (ARM 23, 449:13); Ia-a¶-wi-um (ARM 23, 450:13).

These are different spellings of the name Yaµwī!um (√ ÑYY) in four different copies of the same text (cf. ARM 23, 401, 403).17 Da-di-ú-um (Tuttul 213): Dādī!um (cf. Krebernik 2001:213).

15

The names dNa-bu-ú-ma-lik (4952M) Nabû-mālik ‘Nabû is an adviser’ and Ibi-na-bu-ú (2417?) Ibbī-nabû ‘Nabû named’ are Akkadian (cf. Huffmon 1965:112, about the first one). 16 Till-abnim is a locality mentioned in ARM 1, 10:5, cf. Groneberg 1980:237. The analysis of ti-il as ´ill ‘shadow’ (the name would then mean ‘Shadow of a (deified) stone’) is impossible because of the spelling with TI (cf. Streck 2000:195 on spellings of /´/). 17 See Streck 1999a for the discussion of the meaning of the verbal root and the name in Amorite.

V. Golinets, Amorite Names Written with the Sign Ú…

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A-aq-bi-u-um (Tuttul 208): Yaqbi!um (cf. Krebernik 2001:208); Ia-aq-bi-ú (Tuttul 218, 208): Yaqbi!u(m) (cf. Krebernik 2001:208).18

Root MÔ! In Amorite this root has the root vowel /i/ (with some exceptions where it is /u/, e. g., Ia-am-zu-ad-nu-ú (2968B): Yam´u!-"adnum ‘The delight is able/ sufficient’). In hypocoristica of verbal names with the root vowel /i/ the sign Ú marks the syllable boundary. The following examples are spellings of the name Yam´i!um, in all instances the name of the same person, a functionary of Ḏimrī-lîm in Upper Mesopotamia (cf. ARM 16/1, 220; ARM 26/2, 559). This name is a hypocoristicon of a name like Ia-am-zi-DINGIR (2963B, M): Yam´i!-!il ‘The god is able/sufficient’ or Ia-am-zi-¶a-ad-nu (2964M): Yam´i!-"adnu ‘The delight is able/sufficient.’19 Ia-am-zi-ú-um (Nom, ARM 26/2, 318:2; 319:3; 339:3; 340:3; 342:3; ARM 27, 87:6): Yam´i!um; E-em-´í-ú-um (Tuttul 213): Yim´i!um < Yam´i!um (cf. Krebernik 2001:213).

Cf. Ia-am-zi-ju-um (2966M; ARM 2, 124:2 = ARM 26/2, 311:2; ARM 26/2, 323:2, 37; 324:2); Ia-am-zi-um (Nom, ARM 26/2, 341:3): Yam´i!um; I-im-´í-um (Tuttul 213, cf. Krebernik 2001:213): Yim´i!um < Yam´i!um.20

In Ia-am-zu-ú-um (Nom, ARM 27, 86:5), spelled with the sign Ú, this sign is used to indicate either the syllable boundary, in the case that the root MÔ! has here the root vowel /u/, or the contracted vowel, Yam´ûm < Yam´u!um or Yam´i!um. Cf. Ia-am-zu-um (ARM 26/2, 301:3; 308:3, 10; 309:3; 313:2; 314:2; 315:2; 316:2): Yam´u!um or Yam´ûm; Ie-e-em-zu-um (3654B), Ie-e-im-zu-um (3655B): Yim´u!um or Yim´ûm (cf. Ra-pu-ú-um (5263M): Rapûm < Rapī!um or Rapū!um ‘Healed’). The examples listed under 2.1.2.1 – 2.1.2.8 show that there is no evidence to consider every cuneiform sign as a representation of an independent syllable which represents a morpheme on the morphological level. Gelb’s above-mentioned assumption should be rejected. Furthermore, it is difficult to explain why Babylonian scribes should 18

There is no indication that two spellings render the name of the same person. The translation of the names with the verbal element of the root MÔ! follows Streck 2000, § 2.65, note 2. 20 Cf. also Ra-bi-ú-um (5243M), Ra-bi-ju-[um] (5238M): Rāpi!um (or Rabī!um ?). Cf. Streck 1999b on Amorite names from the root RP!. 19

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use special orthography for the writing of Amorite names (cf. Streck 2000, § 2.1). The evidence of appellation names is of special importance for our argumentation. Ši-im-ru-ú (ARM 26/1, 9:17): Šimru(m) ‘Fennel’; Ši-im-ru-um (ARM 26/1, 9:10): Šimrum; Ši-im-ru (ARM 26/1, 9:12, 15, 30): Šimru; Ši-im-ri (Gen, ARM 26/1, 9:8): Šimru.

These four forms render the name of the same person and they are written on the same tablet. Other names are: Ar-wi-ú (921B, M): Arwiju(m) ‘Gazelle’; Ar-wi-ú-um (922B, M): Arwijum; Ar-wi-um (923B, M): Arwijum. Aq-bu-ú (886B): "Aqbu(m) ‘Shelter’ (√ "QB); Aq-bu-um (887D): "Aqbum.

In appellation names on semantic grounds no pronoun is expected.21 Accordingly, the plene orthography with the sign Ú can definitively not be interpreted as reflecting the pronoun. At the same time, the defective orthography cannot be interpreted as an indication of the defectively written pronoun.22 2.2. Second argument: names with genitive construction The second observation which leads us to contest the analysis of the sign Ú as a representation of the pronoun pertains to the name Mu-tu-ba-lu-ú (4808M), with genitive construction (cf. Streck 2000:360 for the reading). It is an example of the name with the first element in construct state ending with a vowel /u/ (cf. Streck 2000, §3.53–58 about this phenomenon). If the pronoun is attested in this name then we would expect the form *Mutu-ba"li-hu with the pronoun sounding -ihu. Knudsen suggested an interpretation of the ending -uhu as a “mirror formation” (cf. section 1.1). This would mean that the vowel of the case ending was assimilated to the 21 Appellation names with the suffixed pronoun occur in Akkadian only in Old Babylonian time and they are only a few. They are unparalleled in other Semitic onomastic corpora. In Akkadian they bear the feminine pronoun 3 sg. and there is no example with the masculine pronoun (cf. Stamm 1939:77). 22 Gelb’s analysis of the names Ia-am-zi-¶a-ad-nu and Zu-ra-¶a-am-mu in which he saw attestations of the pronoun written defectively (1958:152), also lacks a solid foundation. He gave it up in 1980:597, 653.

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vowel of the suffixed pronoun (Knudsen 1991:876). But such a form of the masculine pronoun would not have parallels in other Semitic languages, as Knudsen admits (loc. cit.).23 There is another possible explanation of the form Mu-tu-ba-lu-ú. The second element in Amorite names with genitive construction typically stands in the genitive (cf. Streck 2000, § 3.53–56). But there are some names in which the second element has the ending -um. The explanation for this phenomenon is that the name is declined according to the syntax of the Akkadian sentence and the whole name receives the ending -um (cf. Streck 2000, § 3.9, “Gruppenflexion”). This explanation suggested by Streck is more convincing. It demands that the sign Ú be considered a representation of the ending -um. 2.3. Structural and semantic arguments As the sign Ú is used to represent different morphophonological features one might think that it can be interpreted as the representation of the 3 m. sg. pronoun on semantic grounds, and that comparative Semitic onomastics could back up Gelb’s interpretation and that of his predecessors. However, we will see in the following that the onomastic perspective brings other arguments against interpreting the sign Ú as a representation of the pronoun. 2.3.1. Third argument: names with two different pronouns? If the sign Ú were considered as a representation of the pronoun 3 m. sg., then some names would include two different pronouns. These are names like Da-di-¶a-ad-nu-ú (1426?): *Dādī-"adnu-hu *‘My beloved is his delight’; Úa-a-lí-i-lu-ú (1815M): *Úālī-!ilu-hu *‘My mother’s brother is his god’; Úa-li-¶a-ad-nu-ú (2061M): *Úālī-"adnu-hu *‘My mother’s brother is his delight’; Úa-am-mi-su-mu-ú (1897B): *"Ammī-śumu-hu *‘My father’s brother is his son’; Zi-im-ri-lu-ú (F, 6515M): *Ḏimrîlu-hu < *Ḏimrī-!ilu-hu *‘My shelter is his god.’ 23

At the same time he maintained that the suffixed 3 sg. feminine pronoun in Hebrew and Aramaic are mirror formations (loc. cit.). But the first vowel of this pronoun is the connecting vowel (Barth 1901:198). Its quality does not depend on the quality of the suffix vowel. According to Barth, loc. cit., the connecting vowel in Hebrew and Aramaic affects the vowel of the suffixed pronoun—not vice versa—and causes it to drop out. As far as the twelve examples of the Amorite suffixed pronoun 3 sg. feminine -ha in Gelb 1980:524 (cf. Gelb 1959:152, 3.1.1.1.7) are concerned, it is not sure that the names have this pronoun. The lexical meaning of every single name and their linguistic affiliation are not clear.

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Akkadian: Diachrony and Contact

If we tried to explain the morpheme rendered in these names by the sign as the suffixed pronoun, we would encounter semantic difficulties. One might argue that these names are paralleled by Akkadian names like A¶iummišu ‘His mother’s brother’; A¶i-abiya ‘My father’s brother’ (Stamm 1939:302). But these Akkadian names that belong to the category of substitution names (“Ersatzname,” Stamm 1939:301) are composed of two kin terms. They have only one pronoun. By contrast, the Amorite names cited have one kin term and two pronouns of different grammatical persons. Huffmon has shown that the vowel /i/ in the first element of Amorite nominal sentence names is the pronoun of the first person singular, not the connecting vowel as in Hebrew names.24 The Akkadian verbal sentence names that have pronouns on both elements are names like Ì-líib-ba-an-ni ‘My god named me’ (Stamm 1939:28, 142) and Ìl-šu-ib-ni-šu ‘His god created him’ (Stamm 1939:139); Ìl-šu-i-bi-šu ‘His god named him’ (Stamm 1939:142). Both elements in such names carry pronouns of the same grammatical person. The following questions arise: What are the referents for both pronouns in Amorite names cited above? Which of the two pronouns in the name refers to the name bearer—is it “my” or is it “his”? It does not matter whether such a name is thought to be pronounced by the name bearer or by the name giver—the names have completely unexpected meanings and, as pointed out already by Huffmon 1965:112, they do not have parallels in Semitic onomastic corpora. Ú

2.3.2. Fourth argument: no short name with 3 sg. pronoun in the accusative There is another typological observation that leads us to question the common interpretation of the function of the sign Ú. It pertains to the names that allegedly have the suffixed 3 m. sg. pronoun in the accusative. These are the already cited names Ia-a¶-zi-bu-ú Ì-lí-i¶-nu-ú

Jā"zibuhu (2880M); !Ilī-jiµnūhu? (2730D) (in Gelb’s transcription).

Gelb’s transcription requires translations ‘He (i. e. a deity) helped him’ for the first name and ‘My god was merciful toward him’ for the second. The following considerations speak against this interpretation.

24

Huffmon 1965:104–107. See Rechenmacher 1997:15f. about the connecting vowel in Hebrew names.

V. Golinets, Amorite Names Written with the Sign Ú…

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The 3 m. sg. pronoun being the object of a verbal sentence is extremely rare in Semitic names. Hebrew personal names do not include this pronoun (Stamm 1967:144; Rechenmacher 1997:6, note 15). In Phoenician only two verbal names with this pronoun are attested: B"lµn! ‘Baal took pity on him’ and B"lpd! ‘Baal redeemed him’ (see Stamm 1967:144f., note 35 with references). In Akkadian names this pronoun appears only in a few names like Nusku-ibnīšu ‘Nusku created him’ (Stamm 1939:193, note 4); Ilu-i´´uršu ‘The god protected him’ (Stamm 1939:118); dSîn-e-ri-im-šu ‘Sîn took pity on him’; I-ri-im-šu ‘He/she took pity on him’; Irēm-šu-Ninurta ‘Ninurta took pity on him’; I-ri-en-šu-dMarduk ‘Marduk took pity on him’; fIrēm-ši-, I-ri-en-ši-dGula ‘Gula took pity on her’ (Stamm 1939:190; 1967:145); Ìl-šu-ib-ni-šu ‘His god created him’ (Stamm 1939:139); Ìl-šu-i-bi-šu ‘His god named him’ (Stamm 1939:142); Ištar-išmēšu ‘Ištar heard him’ (Stamm 1939:189; 1967:145).25 With the imperative: Nabû-bal-li¢-šu ‘O Nabû, sustain/make him healthy!’; Bēl-tabtan-nu-bul-li¢-su ‘O Bēl, you have (just now) created, sustain/make him healthy!’ (Stamm 1939:154); Ilu-ku´uršu ‘O god, strengthen him!’; Nabûku´uršu ‘O Nabû, strengthen him!’ (Stamm 1939:157).26 These examples show that names with suffixed pronoun in the accusative are possible onomastically. But we do not find hypocoristica of such names in Akkadian. This fact speaks against Gelb’s interpretation of Iaa¶-zi-bu-ú. As far as the name Ì-lí-i¶-nu-ú is concerned, we have already mentioned that names with two different pronouns are unparalleled in Semitic onomastics. Even if we try to understand these names in the way required by the common interpretation, then we can also expect to find names with the pronoun of the first person singular accusative in Amorite. Such names are common in Akkadian: Nabû-īdânni ‘Nabû knows me’ (Stamm 1939: 198); Sîn-im-na-an-ni ‘Sîn loves me’ (Stamm 1939:192); Ninurta-i-pi-ra-ni ‘Ninurta provided for me’ (Stamm 1939:189). With pronouns on both elements: Ì-lí-iš-me-a(n)-ni and Ì-lí-iš-me-ni ‘My god heard me’ (Stamm 1939:189; 1967:145); Be-lí-iš-me-an-ni ‘My lord heard me’ (Stamm 1939: 189); Ì-lí-ib-ba-an-ni ‘My god named me’ (Stamm 1939:28, 142) and oth-

25

With plural pronoun: Nabû-erībšunu ‘Nabû replaced them (the dead brothers)’ (Stamm 1939:290). 26 The names are cited either in transliteration or in connected transcription as they appear in Stamm 1939.

608

Akkadian: Diachrony and Contact

ers.27 The short forms of such names are rare in Akkadian. We find I-pira-an-ni ‘He provided for me’; Ir!ânni ‘He shepherded me’ (Stamm 1939:189); I´-ru-pa(-an)-ni ‘He purified me’ (Stamm 1939:314). If we turn to Amorite we do not come across short forms of verbal sentence names with pronoun of the 1st person as an object. We would expect to find names like *Ya"zibu-ni ‘He (i. e. a deity) helped me’ and probably also *Ya"zibu-nu ‘He (i. e. a deity) helped us’ (√ "ZB ‘to help’ like in Ex 25:3), like *!Ilī-yiµnū-ni ‘My god was merciful toward me,’ and other names in which the parents refer to the fact that a deity has given them a child. Such names are not attested in Amorite, although a few names with the personal pronoun of the first person singular and plural as an object occur in Ugaritic and Aramaic (Stamm 1967:144, note 35). The Amorite names that do include a suffixed accusative pronoun of the first person singular are composed of three elements: a verbal form, a pronoun and a theophoric element. These are the names: Ia-ab-ba-an-ni-DINGIR (2799M): Yabbânni-!il < *Yabbi!-anni-!il ‘The god named me’; Ia-ba-an-ni- DINGIR (3148M): Yabbânni-!il < *Yabbi!-anni-!il; Ia-ab-ba-an-ni-il (Tuttul 218): Yabbânni-!el < *Yabbi!-anni-!el; A-ba-an-ni-il (Tuttul 218): Yabbânni-!el < *Yabbi!-anni-!el; I-ba-ni-il (Tuttul 216, 218): Ibbânni-!el < *Ibbi!-anni-!el.

With imperative: Ši-ma-a¶-ni-DINGIR (5887M): Śima"-ni-!ila ‘Hear me, o god!’; Si-ma-a¶-ni-i-la (ARM 23, 623:46): Śima"-ni-!ila ‘Hear me, o god!’

These are the only Amorite names carrying this pronoun. No hypocoristica of such names are attested in Amorite. The limited attestation of such names allows us to ask if the cited names are coined from tripartite Akkadian names like Ì-lí-iš-me-a(n)-ni (Stamm 1939:189) ‘My god heard me’; Ì-lí-ib-ba-an-ni (Stamm 1939:142) ‘My god named me’; Bēl-ši-man-ni (Stamm 1939:167) ‘Hear me, o Bēl!’28 West Semitic names have not developed the complexity that is particular to Akkadian names. Akkadian has many more different classes of names than West Semitic languages, and it displays more variety in the classes that are common to Akkadian and West Semitic (Stamm 1967:145, cf. also p. 147 and 27

Cf. Stamm 1939:95, 147, 149, 167, 168, 177, 180–182, 189–192, 198; with imperative: 157, 168, 175, 178. For South Arabian names with this pronoun cf. Hayajneh 1988:29. 28 Cf. Stamm 1967:145, note 39, who observes that there is no verbal sentence name built of three elements in Amorite, Ugaritic, Phoenician, Hebrew and South Arabian.

V. Golinets, Amorite Names Written with the Sign Ú…

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Rechenmacher 1997:6). The West Semitic onomastic corpora are poorer than the Akkadian one as far as names with pronouns and names composed of three elements are concerned. This fact induces us to consider tripartite Amorite names that include the pronoun of the first person as calques of Akkadian names. As a result, the cited Amorite tripartite names with the pronoun of the first person cannot be used as a typological indication for the existence of bipartite verbal sentence names having the 3 m. sg. pronoun as object. 2.3.3. Fifth argument: Who is “his son”? The semantic difficulties grow bigger if we try to translate names in which the alleged 3 m. sg. pronoun is attached to the nouns śumu ‘name, descendant’ and māru ‘son’—the latter in mixed Akkadian-Amorite names. Úa-ià-su-mu (ARM 28, 50:5; 90bis:1; 95:15); Úa-ià-su-mu-ú (ARM 26/1, 249:3, 14; 45:22); Úa-ià-su-ú-mu-ú (ARM 28, 90:3; 91:10).

From the point of view of onomastics, we expect a name to be pronounced by the parents of a newborn child or by the sibling(s); or the name is thought to be pronounced by the newborn him/herself; or the name is a generic statement that can be said by any speaker (Stamm 1939:23, cf. also Rechenmacher 1997:8). Comparative Semitic onomastics also shows that the referent of the pronoun in the names should be either the name bearer or a deity but not the name giver (cf. Stamm 1939:24; 1967:144). In Akkadian names the pronoun of the third person refers to the name bearer or a deity (Stamm 1939:25, 77; 1967:145f.). In Sabaic names with the 3 m. sg. pronoun the referent of the pronoun is a deity. The alleged pronoun in Amorite names was understood as referring to a deity by Jean 1950:88; Birot 1953:167; 1955:24; Aistleitner 1957:293. One might suggest that in the name Ha-ià-su-mu-ú the pronoun stands for a deity.29 However, the absence of names of the type “the descendant of DN is alive,” with a divine name occupying the position of the suffix, militates against this. The person referred to in the name Ñayya-śumu is the name bearer himself and not his son. The meaning of this name should be “the son is alive” (in the sense “the son is there”) and not *“his son is alive.” The

29

Cf. Stamm 1939:76 about substitution of a deity name by a pronoun.

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same is true for the name I-zi-ma-ru-ú (ARM 24/1, 6 ii 13) I´ī-māru(m). It means ‘the son appeared’ and not ‘his son appeared.’ 2.3.4. Sixth argument: distribution of names The five objections along with the doubts expressed in older studies require a new explanation of the function of the sign Ú in the orthography of Amorite names. How should we understand such spellings if this sign does not represent the suffixed third person masculine singular pronoun? Now I am going to present the strongest argument against the common interpretation. The evidence this argument is based on will lead us to an explanation which seems convincing to me. The sixth argument pertains to the distribution of the names written with the sign Ú. I think that the strongest evidence against analysing the names written with the sign Ú as containing the suffixed 3 m. sg. pronoun is the fact that there are different attestations of the name of the same person which are written with and without the sign Ú. Sometimes they occur on the same tablet. 2.3.4.1. Different spellings of the same name: -Cu and -Cu-ú There are attestations of the name of the same person written as -Cu and -Cu-ú. 2.3.4.1.1. The name of the same person written in two ways on the same tablet Aq-ba-¶a-mu (ARM 26/2, 524:35); Aq-ba-¶a-mu-ú (ARM 26/2, 524:42);

cf. Úa-aq-ba-¶a-am-mu (ARM 26/2, 524:38); Úa-aq-ba-¶a-am-mu-ú (ARM 26/2, 524:3): "Aqba-"ammu(m) ‘The father’s brother is shelter.’30

Note that these four spellings occur on the same tablet. 1. Úa-aq-ba-¶a-am-mu (ARM 2, 39:19, 58, 80 = ARM 26/2, 411:58, 80); 00Úa-aq-ba-¶a-am-mu-ú (ARM 2, 39:14, 16, 24 = ARM 26/2, 411:14, 16, 19, 24). 2. Úa-aq-ba-¶a-am-mu (ARM 26/2, 412:17); 00Úa-aq-ba-¶a-am-mu-ú (ARM 26/2, 412:10, 14, 18, 55). 3. Úa-aq-ba-¶a-am-mu (ARM 26/2, 491:45);

30

Cf. Streck 2000, § 3.33, about the a-case of the noun.

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611

00Úa-aq-ba-¶a-am-mu-ú (ARM 26/2, 491:5, 6): "Aqba-"ammu(m) ‘The father’s brother is shelter.’

The name of "Ammu-rāpi!, the king of Kurda, is written as Úa-am-mu-ra-bi (ARM 26/2, 404:53)

and Úa-am-mu-ú-ra-bi (ARM 26/2, 404:51): Úammu(m)-rāpi! ‘Father’s brother is curative.’ I-túr-áš-du (ARM 28, 64:25); I-túr-áš-du-ú (ARM 28, 64:6, 17);

and I-túr-áš-du (ARM 28, 122:11, 17, 21); I-túr-áš-du-ú (ARM 28, 122:6): !Itūr-!aśdu(m) ‘The warrior returned.’

These are two cases in which the same person’s name is spelled differently on a single tablet (cf. ARM 28, 64, note b, 381). 2.3.4.1.2. The name of the same person written in two ways on different tablets The name of the king of Mari Śumu-Yamm ‘The descendant of Yamm’ appears as Su-mu-mu (5686M): Sumûmmu < *Śumu-Yammu; Sa-mu-mu-ú (5480M): Samûmu(m) < *Śamu-Yammu(m); Su-mu-ia-ma-am (5665M): Śumu-Yam(a)m, cf. ARM 16/1, 188 and Streck 2000, § 2.32; 2.39.

The following are spellings of the name of the same person (cf. ARM 26/1, 597): I-dur-ás-du (ARM 26/1, 152:3; 184:3; 233:3)

and I-dur-ás-du-ú (A.2588, 50, see ARM 26/1, 241).

The following are two variant spellings of the name of the same person, cf. ARM 26/1, 601: Ia-am-zi-¶a-ad-nu (ARM 26/1, 152:5); Ia-am-zi-¶a-ad-nu-ú (2964M; ARM 26/1, 168:3; 169:3; 170:3): Yam´i!-"adnu(m) ‘The pleasure (i. e. divine epithet) is able/sufficient.’ Ia-si-im-¶a-am-mu (ARM 26/2, 383:2); Ia-si-im-¶a-am-mu-ú (ARM 26/2, 491:5, 8): Yaśīm-"ammu(m) ‘Father’s brother set up (a descendant).’

612

Akkadian: Diachrony and Contact

The spellings -Cu-ú and -Cu can be compared with spellings of the same name written with and without the mimation expressed by the sign UM: Ku-úr-ra-nu (ARM 28, 120:14, 17) and Ku-úr-ra-nu-um (ARM 28, 120:21), note that both spellings occur on the same tablet. 2.3.4.2. Different spellings of the same name: -Cu-ú and -Cu-um 2.3.4.2.1. The name of the same person written in two ways on the same tablet Ši-im-ru-ú (ARM 26/1, 9:17): Šimru(m) ‘Fennel’; Ši-im-ru-um (ARM 26/1, 9:10): Šimrum; Ši-im-ru (ARM 26/1, 9:12, 15, 30): Šimru; Ši-im-ri (Gen, ARM 26/1, 9:8): Šimru.

2.3.4.2.2. The name of the same person written in two ways in different copies of the same text I-lu-ú (ARM 23, 448:20): !Ilu(m); I-lu-um (ARM 23, 451:21): !Ilum;

cf. I-lu-ia (ARM 23, 449:20; 450:20): !Iluya.

These variants render the name of the same person, cf. the comment of ARM 23, 403 to the text No. 451: “Duplicat partiel des n° 448, 449 et 450.” 2.3.4.2.3. The name of the same person written in two ways in different texts Gu-ub-bu-ú (ARM 23, 608:1); Gu-ub-bu-um (ARM 23, 9:5; 11:4; ARM 24/1, 310rev.:6).

ARM 23:573 states: “Cf. le texte n° 9, où Gubbûm, sans doute la même personne, reçoit un habit SI-SÁ ÚS.” 3. What does the sign Ú indicate if not the suffixed pronoun? The new explanation We see that the ending of the same name could be written -Cu as well as -Cu-ú and -Cu-um as well as -Cu-ú. If the spelling -Cu-um represents mimation, it is safe to conclude that the spelling -Cu-ú is another way to render mimation. Von Soden in his GAG § 63c*, noted that in the lexical list Lú

V. Golinets, Amorite Names Written with the Sign Ú…

613

the sign Ú is often employed to indicate the ending -um.31 Von Soden wondered whether -um was pronounced -uw. I think that the Amorite evidence too points in this direction. In the spoken language /m/ in the vicinity of /u/ shifted to /w/. This new diphthong /uw/ could have turned to a monophthong /û/, as it has been the case in Akkadian (Mayer 1991:50f.; Streck 2006, § 120b). This shift in Amorite names has found expression in the orthography in the same manner as the lexical list Lú preserved the actual pronunciation of this ending in Akkadian.32 The Late Babylonian name DN-nādin-šu-ú ‘A deity gives a son’ (AHw. 1275; CAD Š3 295; cf. Stamm 1939:98 about this type of names) also suggests this shift.33 In the case of the name Úa-ià-su-mu-ú (ARM 28, 91:5, 12, 13); Úa-iàsu-ú-mu-ú (ARM 28, 91:10) and Úa-ià-su-mu (ARM 28, 95:15); Úa-ià-su-úmu (ARM 28, 95:12–14, 18, 21, 32, 33, 40, 41) spelled in different ways in same texts, /um/ of the word stem is probably also affected by this shift: Úayya-śumum > Úayya-śuwuw > Úayya-śû!û (with some kind of a syllable divider). The sign MU in su-ú-mu and su-ú-mu-ú is either a spelling for /wu/34 or it has been kept in the orthography as a morphographemic spelling. Another explanation for the plene writing of the word śumu is that the sign Ú has been used to express the word stress.35 31

See Civil 1969: za-ab-u-ú for zabbum (158:29; cf. AHw. 1501); sú-ra-ta-nu-ú for surrātānum (158:34; cf. AHw. 1062); lim-nu-ú for limnum (158:37); a-a-bu-ú for ajjābum (159:38, 42); la-si-mu-ú for lāsimum (159:44); la-ap-nu-ú for lapnum (159: 51); qù-tu-nu-ú for quttunum (160:85; cf. AHw. 931) and other words. 32 A comparable case could be the distinction of the vowels /u/ and /o/ in the series Proto-Aa, Proto-Izi and Proto-Kagal (Westenholz 1991). These lists also preserved the pronunciation of the spoken language. 33 Cf. Mayer 1991:49, for spellings of the Akkadian word šumu as šu(-ú) and for other examples of Akkadian spellings with the sign Ú for /mV/. 34 Cf. GAG § 22 and Streck 2006, § 80f. Streck 2006, § 79, lists also two ú-wu spellings for /wu/ from Mari: ú-wu-ú-ur-tim (ARM 2, 119:5′): wu!!urtim and ú-wuúš-šu-ur-ti-im (ARM 2, 119:7): wuššurtim. Cf. also the names La-na-su-mu-um (4308B) La-naśū!um and La-na-su-wu-um (4311M): La-naśū!um ‘Truly accepted,’ there the signs MU and WU has the function of syllable divider. 35 In Middle Babylonian the spelling šu-ú-mu for šumu ‘name’ occurs in a text from Elam: Ninurta bēl apli šu-ú-mi u kudurri (MPD 2, 109:7–8, cf. CAD Š3 295a) and in a text from Nuzi: šu-ú-mu ša amēli ša-a-ni-i [iq]abbī (JEN 434:9–10, cf. CAD Š3 288b and Speiser 1935:442). The word šumu is also written as šu-ú-mu in the latter text in the line 14. The word šanî in the line 9 has also plene orthography. Remarkably, both texts do not exhibit extended use of plene spellings. On question of plene spellings of etymologically short vowels in Akkadian cf. Streck 2006, § 46ff., and the literature cited in Mayer 1991:47 note 34.

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Both spellings -ú and -um occur in Mari and in Babylonia side by side whereas the first one is more common in the West. But the spelling -ú and consequently the shift /um/ > /û/ is not predominant even in the West, in the “Amorite heartland,” where two pronunciations and two orthography practises coexisted. Therefore no dialectal grouping can be accomplished. Against the suggested explanation of the spellings with the sign Ú in word-final position speaks the fact that only the ending -um which is attached to the word stem is written with this sign. If this ending is attached to the suffixes -t, -at and -ān it is never written with the sign Ú.36 At the moment I can propose no interpretation of this phenomenon. Nevertheless I hope that the presented explanation of the spellings with the sign Ú does not in itself bring new complications. At any rate it seems now to be established that there is no sure attestation of the suffixed 3 m. sg. pronoun in Amorite. The negative evidence for this pronoun has positive implications for the question of the genetic classification of the Amorite language. Now we don’t have evidence to regard Amorite as a representative of the Heh languages as far as the pronoun of the 3 m. sg. is concerned. Amorite does not have two different forms of the 3 m. sg. pronoun, the independent form šu/ū and the suffixed form -hu, as Knudsen 1991:876, suggested. References Aistleitner 1957 Barth 1901 Bauer 1926

Birot 1953 Birot 1955 Bottéro 1981 Buccellati 1966 Civil 1969

36

Aistleitner, J. Studien zur Frage der Sprachverwandtschaft des Ugaritischen I. AOH 7:251–307. Barth, J. Beitrage zur Suffixlehre des Nord-Semitischen. AJSL 17:193–208. Bauer, T. Die Ostkanaanäer. Eine philologisch-historische Untersuchung über die Wanderschicht der sogenannten “Amoriter” in Babylonien. Leipzig. Birot, N. Textes économiques de Mari (II). RA 47:161– 174. Birot, N. Textes économiques de Mari (III). RA 49:15–31. Bottéro, J. L’ordalie en Mésopotamie ancienne. Annali della scuola normale superiore di Pisa III/11:1005–1065. Buccellati, G. The Amorites of the Ur III Period. Naples. Civil, M. (ed.). The series lú = ša and Related Texts (MSL 12). Roma.

Cf. e. g. Ia-qar-tum (F, 3417M): Yaqartum (√ YQR); Ia-at-ra-tum (M, 3123B): Yatratum (√ YTR); Ia-a¶-du-na-nu-um (2832B): Ya"dunānum (√ "DN).

V. Golinets, Amorite Names Written with the Sign Ú… Dhorme 1928 Finkelstein 1954

Garbini 1974 Gelb 1958 Gelb 1980 Goetze 1958 Grimme 1912 Gröndahl 1967 Groneberg 1980 Hayajneh 1988

Hommel 1897

Hommel 1904

Hommel 1926

Huffmon 1965 Jean 1950

Knudsen 1991

Krebernik 2001 Mayer 1991 Noth 1953

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Dhorme, É. Les Amorrhéens. À propos d’un livre récent. RB 38:63–79. Finkelstein, J. J. An Old Babylonian SA.GAZ List. Bottéro, J. (ed.). Le problème des Úabiru à la 4e Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale. Paris. Pp. 177–181. Garbini, G. (ed.). Iscrizioni sudarabiche. Vol. 1. Iscrizioni Minee. Napoli. Gelb, I. J. La lingua degli Amoriti. ANLR 13/3–4:143– 164. Gelb, I. J. Computer-Aided Analysis of Amorite (AS 21). Chicago. Goetze, A. Remarks on Some Names Occurring in the Execration Texts. BASOR 151:28–33. Grimme, H. Die Jahotriade von Elephantine. OLZ 15:11–17 Gröndahl, F. Die Personennamen der Texte aus Ugarit (StP 1). Roma. Groneberg, B. Die Orts- und Gewässernamen der altbabylonischen Zeit (RGTC 3). Wiesbaden. Hayajneh, H. Die Personenamen in den qatabānischen Umschriften. Lexikalische und grammatische Analyse im Kontexts der semitischen Anthropomastik (TSO 10). Hildesheim. Hommel, F. Die altisraelitische Überlieferung in inschriftlicher Bedeutung. Ein Einspruch gegen die Aufstellungen der modernen Pentateuchkritik. München. Hommel, F. Grundriss der Geographie und Geschichte des Alten Orients. Erste Hälfte. Ethnologie des Alten Orients. Babylonien und Chaldäa (Handbuch der Altertumswissenschaft). München. Hommel, F. Grundriss der Geographie und Geschichte des Alten Orients. Zweite Hälfte. Ethnologie und Geographie des Alten Orients (Handbuch der Altertumswissenschaft). München. Huffmon, H. B. Amorite Personal Names in the Mari Texts: a Structural and Lexical Study. Baltimore. Jean, C.-F. Les noms propres de personnes dans les lettres de Mari. Parrot, A. (ed.). Studia Mariana (DMOA 4). Leiden. Pp. 63–98. Knudsen, E. E. Amorite Grammar. A Comparative Statement. Kaye, A. S. (ed.). Semitic Studies in Honor of Wolf Leslau. Wiesbaden. Pp. 866–885. Krebernik, M. Ausgrabungen in Tall Bi‘a/Tuttul. II. Die altorientalischen Schriftfunde (WVDOG 100). Saarbrücken. Mayer, W. R. Ein Hymnus auf Ninurta als Helfer in der Not. Or 61:17–57. Noth, M. Mari und Israel. Eine Personennamenstudie. Geschichte und Altes Testament. Albrecht Alt zum siebzigsten

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Streck 1999a Streck 1999b Streck 2000

Streck 2006 Thureau-Dangin 1934

Tropper 2000 Westenholz 1991 Zadok 1993

Akkadian: Diachrony and Contact Geburtstag (Beiträge zur historischen Theologie 16). Tübingen. Pp. 127–152. Rechenmacher, H. Personennamen als theologische Aussagen. Die syntaktischen und semantischen Strukturen der satzhaften theophoren Personennamen in der hebräischen Bibel (Arbeiten zu Text und Sprache im Alten Testament 50). St. Ottilien. Reiner, E. The Phonological Interpretation of a Subsystem in the Akkadian Syllabary. Studies Presented to A. Leo Oppenheim. Chicago. Pp. 167–180. Ryckmans, G. Les noms propres sud-sémitiques. Tome I. Répertoire analytique (Bibliothèque du Muséon 2). Louvain. Speiser, A. Notes to Recently Published Nuzi Texts. JAOS 55:432–443. Stamm, J. J. Die akkadische Namengebung (MVÄG 44). Leipzig. Stamm, J. J. Ein Problem der altsemitischen Namengebung. Papers of the Fourth World Congress of Jewish Studies. I. Jerusalem. Pp. 141–147. Streck, M. P. Der Gottesname ‘Jahwe’ und das amurritische Onomastikon. WO 30:35–46. Streck, M. P. Hammurabi oder Hammurapi? ArOr 67: 655–669. Streck, M. P. Das amurritische Onomastikon der altbabylonischen Zeit. Band 1. Die Amurriter. Die onomastische Forschung. Orthographie und Phonologie. Nominalmorphologie (AOAT 271/1). Münster. Streck, M. P. Altbabylonische Grammatik mit Grundwortschatz, Übungen und Chrestomathie. Unpublished Ms. Thureau-Dangin, F. Un comptoir de laine pourpre à Ugarit d’après une tablette de Ras-Shamra. Syria 15: 137–146. Tropper, J. Ugaritische Grammatik (AOAT 273). Münster. Westenholz, A. The Phoneme /o/ in Akkadian. ZA 81: 10–19. Zadok, R. On Amorite Material from Mesopotamia. Cohen, M. E.; Snell, D. C.; Weisberg, D. B. (eds.). The Tablet and the Scroll. Near Eastern Studies in Honor of William W. Hallo. Bethesda. Pp. 315–333.

The Recycling of the T-infix in Prehistoric Akkadian: A Case of Exaptation N. J. C. Kouwenberg Leiden

Introduction There are various reasons to assume that already in Proto-Semitic the basic stem with infixed t, the Gt-stem, had lost a large part of its specific function of expressing detransitivity to other categories, and that it was being marginalized and replaced by other derived stems and by lexical categories. This process is in full swing in Akkadian and is partly observable from the texts and partly reconstructible from typological parallels. However, the verb forms with infixed t which were involved in the process did not all simply disappear: various verbal categories flourishing in historical Akkadian owe their emergence to the exaptation—i. e. the reuse in a different function—of erstwhile Gt forms. This holds in particular for the deverbal noun of the D-stem (taprīs/taprist), the perfect with infixed t (iptarVs), and the TAN-stems. 1. The functions of the t-infix in Akkadian One of the most important verbal markers in Akkadian is an infix t, which comes after the first radical of the verb, or—if the verbal stem has a consonantal prefix—immediately after the prefix. It shows a remarkable variety of functions. Table 1 shows a survey of the verbal categories with a t-infix in Akkadian and a general characterization of its function.1

1 See GAG § 92–94. It is convenient to divide the derived verbal stems of Akkadian into the primary stems (G-stem, D-stem, Š-stem and N-stem), the secondary stems or T-stems (Gt, Dt, Št1 and Nt), each of which is derived from the corresponding primary stem, and the tertiary stems or TAN-stems (Gtn-stem, Dtnstem, Štn-stem and Ntn-stem). The latter obtain their meaning from the corresponding primary stem, although historically they are based on the corresponding secondary stem, see Section 4.3 below.

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1. 2. 3.

Category Secondary stems (Gt, Dt and Št1) Tertiary stems All stems

Function ‘detransitive’ (recipr./refl./pass.) verbal plurality temporal: perfect tense

Table 1

1) In the secondary stems, the t-infix indicates ‘detransitivization,’ i. e., it derives forms with reflexive, reciprocal, mediopassive and similar notions from transitive verbs. If the basic verb is a G-stem, the t-infix usually makes it reciprocal, in some cases reflexive, but never passive, e .g. preterite imta¶´ū ‘they fought (with each other)’ from ma¶ā´u ‘to hit,’ and iptašaš ‘he anointed himself ’ from pašāšu ‘to anoint.’ If the basic verb is a D-stem or a Š-stem, the t-infix usually makes it passive and in some cases also reciprocal or reflexive, e. g. present ubtazza! ‘he is being treated unjustly’ from buzzu!u ‘to treat unjustly’, uttaššaqū ‘they kiss (each other)’ from našāqu (G and D) ‘to kiss,’ and uptassam ‘he veils himself ’ from pussumu ‘to veil.’ 2) In the tertiary stems, on the other hand, the t-infix is pluractional, i. e. a marker of verbal plurality. They have an infix tan in the present tense, but simply t in all other forms, e. g. ittanallak ‘he walks to and fro’ from alāku ‘to go/come,’ preterite ittallak, imperative atallak, etc. 3) As the table shows, the third major function of the t-infix is to express the perfect, a temporal category originally used to refer to a past event which—in the formulation of Loesov (2004)—the speaker wants to relate to the present situation and therefore includes in his (subjective) perception of the present (the time of utterance). The reasons for doing so are manifold: he may be personally interested or involved in it, the event may be very recent and/or still unknown to the addressee, or he may wish to highlight (foreground) it vis-à-vis other events. In the course of time, this perfect came to be stranded in a number of fixed environments, in particular the so-called consecutio temporum, a preterite or a string of preterites concluded by a perfect, and the epistolary perfect. Subsequently, it developed into a neutral past tense in affirmative main clauses, restricting the other past tense, the preterite iprVs, to subordinate, negative and interrogative clauses. In principle, the perfect can be formed from primary, secondary and tertiary stems: beside imta¶´ū from ma¶ā´u G ‘to hit,’ one could derive imtata¶´ū ‘they have fought with each other’ from ma¶ā´u Gt ‘to fight with each other,’ and ittatallak ‘he has walked to and fro’ from alāku Gtn. This

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means that perfect forms of secondary and tertiary stems are expected to have a double t-infix. Such forms are indeed occasionally found, especially in later dialects, but they are fairly rare. The multiple functions of the t-infix lead to a considerable degree of ambiguity. First of all, perfect forms of verbs in the G-stem, D-stem or Šstem are identical in form to the preterite forms of the corresponding Tstems: the forms imta¶´ū and iptašaš can also be perfect of the G-stem and then mean ‘they have hit’ and ‘he has anointed’, respectively. Similarly, the preterite forms of the Dt and Št presents quoted above are at the same time perfects of the corresponding D- or Š-stem: ubtazzi! can mean ‘he was treated unjustly’ and ‘he has treated unjustly,’ uttaššiqū ‘they kissed (each other)’ and ‘they have kissed (someone else).’ Second, the non-present forms of the tertiary stems are identical to the corresponding T-stems. Thus the forms ubtazzi! and uttaššiqū are also preterites of the Dtn-stem and the Štn-stem, respectively, and thus have yet a third meaning, ‘he treated unjustly all the time’ and ‘they kissed repeatedly (someone else).’ This does not apply to the Gtn-stem, however, which is consistently differentiated from the Gt-stem by its geminate second radical, e. g. preterite Gtn ittallak versus Gt ittalak ‘he started going’ from alāku. Thus for most verb forms with infixed t, only the context can decide which of the possible meanings applies. How can we explain this variety of functions and the resulting ambiguity? The first answer which comes to mind is that they are simply different prefixes, each with its own historical background. However, this is very unlikely for at least two reasons. First, there is no distinction whatsoever in form between the different functions of the t-infix: the verb forms are always the same, regardless of which function t has. Second, infixes do not emerge easily. They are by far the least common type of affix (Ultan 1975). For the situation in Akkadian this means that a unitary origin is a priori more likely than the assumption of different infixes emerging through different historical processes. If the various functions of t were patently irreconcilable, we would have no other choice than to assume different sources. However, if there is a possibility of deriving the three functions from the same source, this option is definitely to be preferred. I will argue that this is indeed the case: all functions of t are manifestations of the same morpheme and have the same historical background. They have emerged as a result of a protracted grammaticalization process, which has diversified its use. This diversification was caused by two phe-

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nomena well-known in the historical development of languages: the natural tendency of grammatical markers to lose their expressive power and to be replaced by stronger markers, and the influence which the interaction between morphosyntactic categories may exert on the function of a grammatical category. 2. The historical background of the t-infix Verbal forms with prefixed or infixed (rarely also suffixed) t are widespread in the Afroasiatic languages and belong to the oldest reconstructible grammatical formatives of this phylum.2 The functions most commonly attributed to it are reflexive, reciprocal, middle and passive, and it is therefore plausible that its original function can be defined as a voice marker indicating detransitivization.3 Typological evidence concerning the grammaticalization of voice markers further suggests that the reflexive function is the most original one and that t is actually a strongly grammaticalized reflex of a noun which served as a reflexive marker. A common grammaticalization path of voice markers starts with an analytical marker of prototypical reflexivity, often a noun referring to the body or a body part, in particular “head.”4 Subsequently, it comes to be used for emphasis (“my body/ head,” etc. > “myself ”) and hence as a reflexive, starting in prototypical reflexive situations and then also in natural ones. This may trigger several other uses in a grammaticalization process which is remarkably uni-

2

For t in Afroasiatic, see Rössler 1950; Lieberman 1986:610–619 and Diakonoff 1988:104–105. For Semitic, see Brockelmann 1908:528 and 533–535; Moscati 1964:127; Lipiński 1997:396, and Streck 2003:103–104. For t as a suffix in Cushitic, see Hayward 1975:206–209. 3 Some quite different functions are also reported, such as frequentative or habitual in Berber (Steiner 1981:21–23 and 26; Lipiński 1997:395). It is unclear to what extent it harks back to the common proto-language or represents a later secondary development. For the alleged separative and durative/intensive functions of the t-infix in Akkadian, see Kouwenberg 2005. For the pluractional function of the TAN-stems, see Section 4.3 below. 4 In prototypical reflexive verbs, the subject performs on him/herself an action normally performed on some other entity (English kill, blame, hurt, curse). Natural reflexive verbs, on the other hand, are verbs which because of their semantics have a natural propensity to be used in reflexive events, so that their reflexive use is (at least in specific contexts) just as common or even more common than other uses, e. g. verbs of body care: wash, shave, dress, etc. (Kemmer 1993:50–67).

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form across languages.5 First, reflexive markers often allow a reciprocal interpretation if the subject is plural and the meaning of the verb allows it (like se in Romance and sich in German).6 Second, extension of the reflexive marker to inanimate subjects may lead to the mediopassive (anticausative) function: just as X hurt the man becomes the man hurt himself through reflexivization, X opened the door may become the door opened itself, in other words, the door opened. If in such an environment an agent is implied or even expressed, the marker may also acquire passive meaning: the door opened (by somebody’s action) > the door was opened (by somebody). Third, the use of a reflexive marker in natural reflexive situations may lead to a weakening of its reflexive function and ultimately to the emergence of “middle verbs,” i. e. verbs which are not reflexive in meaning, but have a marker which is or used to be reflexive (Kemmer 1993). 2.1. The functional development of detransitive t in Akkadian Even though we do not know the etymology of the t-infix, both its actual use and its historical development in Akkadian fit neatly into the grammaticalization process of reflexives outlined above. To appreciate this, we have to investigate the morphosyntactic domain of detransitivity as a whole, and thus include in our description also the use of the (medio)passive N-stem and the nominal markers of reciprocity and reflexivity (see also Streck 2003:96–98). Starting as a reflexive, the t-infix gradually extended its domain until it had become a general marker of detransitivity: reflexive, reciprocal and passive/intransitive. At some point of its development, however, it began to be challenged by new forms from two sides: on the one hand, its reflexive function was increasingly taken over by new reflexive nouns, in particular ramānu (Assyrian ramănu)—original meaning unknown—and pagru ‘body.’ The moment our documentation begins, these nouns have almost entirely expelled the t-stems from the reflexive use: what remains 5

Cf. Heine 1999; Kemmer 1993:196–200; Faltz 1985. Schladt (1999) points out that all reflexives in African languages, and a large part of them in languages all over the world, originate as nouns for the body or salient parts of the body, especially the head, and gives an account of the step by step development of their grammaticalization. He also asserts that expression of reflexivity by means of (original) pronouns is typical of European languages only (ibid. 110–111). 6 Kemmer 1993:98; Heine 1999:8 and 12. The common element in reflexive and reciprocal functions is a “low distinguishability of participants” (Kemmer 1993): the initiator is also the endpoint of the action, or both initiators are also endpoint.

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are a handful of verbs and a few lexicalized expressions, such as the above-mentioned pašāšu Gt and pasāmu Dt, labāšu Gt ‘to dress oneself,’7 and šakānu Gt ‘to provide oneself with,’ especially in combination with šuma ‘name’ in the sense of ‘to acquire a good reputation.’8 The reciprocal use of the t-stems is also under threat from nominal expressions for reciprocity, namely the use of a¶um ‘brother’ in two different cases: a¶um a¶am ‘each other’, a¶um ana a¶im ‘to each other’, a¶um itti a¶im ‘with each other,’ etc. It is clear, however, that this process started much later than the replacement of the reflexive use of the Gtstem and that this construction is a relative newcomer in the oldest texts we have. This can be inferred in particular from the fact that it is completely transparent and that a¶um behaves like an ordinary noun and takes the exact form that is grammatically required. For instance, the subject of the clause is singular, which is unusual for a reciprocal clause, and when the subject is feminine, Old Babylonian uses a¶ātum ‘sister’ instead of brother, in one case even when the subject is inanimate but grammatically feminine.9 In other texts the typical features of grammaticalization set in: the feminine form is replaced by the more common masculine form regardless of the subject, the verb may also be in the plural even though the subject is still singular, and by Middle Babylonian times we find a single form a¶āmiš ‘each other’, which is obviously related to a¶um, but no longer transparent in form. So in their reciprocal function, too, the t-stems are being replaced by an alternative marker of nominal origin, but to a lesser extent than in the reflexive function. Therefore, we find a rather productive use of the tstems for reciprocity in the older dialects of Old Babylonian and Old As-

7

However, labāšu Gt is not a good example of a reflexive Gt-stem, because the G-stem does not mean ‘to dress somebody else’ (which can only be expressed by the D-stem lubbušu) but can only have clothing as object. It is conceivable that ‘to dress somebody else’ was the original meaning of the root LBŠ but that this highly transitive use was monopolized by the D-stem, as happened in many other verbs, see Kouwenberg 1997, especially Chapter 11. 8 E. g. FM 6, p. 184, 14rev.:11′ šumam damqam bēlni li-iš-ta-ka-an ‘may my lord get a good reputation,’ and further Gilg. p. 200, l. 160 and p. 202, l. 188; ARM 1, 69rev.:15′; RIME 4, 606:58 (all Old Babylonian). Interestingly, the same meaning may also be expressed by the N-stem (e. g. ARM 10, 107:23–25; FM 3, p. 192, No. 20:14 and elsewhere), and by the G-stem with a reflexive noun (AbB 1, 115rev.:4′ with pagrum). 9 For a¶ātum instead of a¶um when the subject is feminine, see CAD A1 173a s. v. a¶ātu A 3.

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syrian, and especially for the Gt-stem: about 60 different verbs have a reciprocal Gt-stem in these dialects (Streck 2003:20–38). So there is good reason to say that apart from a few exceptional cases of varied nature, the Gt-stem is specifically reciprocal. An important difference between the Gt-stem on the one hand and the Dt- and Št1-stems on the other, is that the Gt-stem is not used for (medio)passive, i. e. for those kinds of detransitivity that involve a promotion of the direct object to subject. This is related to the existence of the N-stem, which serves as (medio)passive to the basic stem. The N-stem has a background which is quite different from that of the T-stems. It originally consisted of a verbal adjective and an auxiliary verb; these two elements have coalesced and the n prefix is all that remains of the auxiliary (Testen 1998; Kouwenberg 2004). Thus it is typologically parallel to the periphrastic passive in many European languages. This is important because it means that the passive function of the N-stem is not an off-shoot of another function such as reflexive, but that it is original, based on the usually passive meaning of the verbal adjective. Therefore, the N-stem shows the opposite functional development as compared to the Gt-stem: it is first and foremost (medio)passive, and the rare instances of a reflexive and reciprocal function can be explained as a result of its gradually replacing the Gt-stem. The processes outlined above are summarized in Table 2: ramānu, a¶um / a¶am, → a¶āmiš, etc.

reflex. Gt Dt Št1

recipr. Gt Dt Št1 Table 2

pass./intr. — Dt Št1

← N-stem

Whereas from the left side of the table the nominal markers gradually replace first the reflexive and subsequently the reciprocal function of all t-stems, from the right side the N-stem takes over the passive/intransitive function, but only of the Gt-stem. The latter process is already completed in the oldest available texts, so that it is quite possible that the extension of the Gt-stem to passive/intransitive function never took place, but was halted by the advance of the N-stem before Gt could acquire this function (cf. Streck 2003:108). However, the assumption that N indeed replaced earlier passive Gt forms is supported by the fact that after having completely taken over this function, N also started attacking the reflexive and reciprocal use of Gt. This partly happened in the historical period and can be documented from the texts. Some reciprocal verbs occur in the Nstem from the oldest texts onwards, such as amāru N ‘to meet’, edēru N ‘to

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embrace’ and emēdu N ‘to put together.’ On the other hand, the very few reflexive Gt-stems attested in Old Babylonian typically use the N-stem in later periods: labāšu ‘to put on (clothes)’, pašāšu ‘to anoint oneself ’ and lapātu (idem). However, the use of the N-stem in these functions always remained marginal: the increasing dominance of the nominal markers prevented it from becoming very productive. The final outcome is that the Gt-stem is squeezed between the nominal markers and the N-stem and manages to hold its ground only in the specific area of reciprocity. It does so only in Old Babylonian and Old Assyrian; in the subsequent periods, the reciprocal use of Gt is also more or less completely wiped out, and the only remaining voice marking function of the t-infix is the passive/intransitive use of the Dt-stem and the Št1stem, the only categories for which there is no competing marker. However, in the later periods there is a sharp contrast between nonliterary and literary texts. In the non-literary texts from the Middle Babylonian and Middle Assyrian period and later, the scene is almost completely dominated by the analytical markers. In literary texts of Standard Babylonian, on the other hand, we witness a remarkable upsurge of Gt forms, amply documented by Streck (2003:89–92, especially the table on p. 90). This must be regarded as a literary and (partly) artificial phenomenon (see Kouwenberg 2005). So far I have not mentioned another phenomenon which illustrates the functional development of the t-infix: from the oldest texts onwards there are a growing number of intransitive verbs in the Gt-stem in which the tinfix has no consistent function at all. By far the most common instance is alāku Gt, which is traditionally described as ‘separative’ and translated as ‘to go away,’ but which is basically ingressive ‘to start going,’ as I have argued elsewhere (Kouwenberg 2005). Other instances from the oldest period are šapû Gt ‘to be silent,’ erēbu Gt ‘to enter,’ wa´û Gt ‘to go/come out,’ and the fossilized Gt-stem itūlu ‘to lie down.’ In the literary texts of Standard Babylonian, this kind of Gt-stem proliferates. Some of them are verbs which have lost their reflexive or reciprocal character, but most of them seem to have adopted the reflexive marker because of some similarity in meaning with reflexive verbs. These verbs can be regarded as the Akkadian manifestation of ‘middle verbs,’ as defined in Section 1 above. 2.2. The Gt-stem in West Semitic If we consider the corresponding verbal categories in West Semitic, it turns out that the development of the basic stem with infixed t is not very

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different from that in Akkadian. It is important, however, to distinguish between t as an infix and t as a prefix. The t-infix as a more or less productive verbal stem is only attested in Ugaritic and (Classical) Arabic. Ugaritic shows a few verb forms with infixed t which have direct and indirect reflexive function (e. g. rµ´ Gt ‘to wash (oneself)’ and !sp Gt ‘to collect for oneself,’ respectively), or reciprocal function (e. g., ¶´b Gt ‘to fight’). There is also a fairly large number of unclear cases, which may partly be caused by our inability to distinguish verbs in the basic stem with infixed t from derived stems with infixed t.10 Of special importance is Tropper’s (2000:528) observation that the suffix conjugation of the Gtstem (*iqtatVla) is very rare and that the prefix conjugation (*yiqtatVl(u)) is especially common in the poetic corpus but rare in prose texts (ibid. 531). This suggests that it is an archaic category preserved in literary style, just as the Gt-stem in later Babylonian. This is in keeping with what we know about other languages from the same area: they show some residual instances of infixed Gt forms, but these are restricted to the oldest attested stages; in later texts, they are replaced by prefixed forms and/or by periphrastic markers.11 The basic stem with infixed t in Classical Arabic, Stem VIII (iqtatala), shows two features which are particularly relevant for the development of the t-infix. First, its function is generally described as direct and indirect reflexive, reciprocal, and to a lesser extent passive, especially in verbs which do not have a Stem VII (inqatala).12 Second, many Stem VIII forms

10

For these verb forms, see Krebernik 1991:236–239, and Tropper 2000: 531–532. 11 In the oldest Aramaic texts, we find a few instances of infixed t (Garr 1985: 119–120), but later Aramaic only uses prefixed forms, unless the first consonant is a sibilant (Segert 1990:256). Moabite has several forms of the verb lµm ‘to fight’ with infixed t, and also Phoenician has a few infixed t forms in its oldest inscriptions (Friedrich–Röllig 1999:94). In Hebrew, the t-infix may have survived in a few fossilized forms used as place names and other obscure instances (Testen 1999:5–6). However, Hebrew has one possible example of a prefixed Gt-stem: the form hitpāqrd ‘to be mustered’ (Joüon–Muraoka 1991:158–159, but they leave open the possibility that it has an original long ā, like the Arabic Stem VI yataqātala). Finally, Amorite may have had past participles with infixed t, cf. proper names of the type Bata¶rum (from √ bµr ‘to select’), Yatašrum (from √ yšr ‘to be straight, right,’ and some others, suggesting the existence in Amorite of a Gtstem with infixed t, see Streck 2000:340. 12 Wright 1967 I 41–42; Joüon 1935:111–115; Fleisch 1979:309–314; Diem 1982:70–73.

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are strongly lexicalized and/or show no discernible difference in meaning from the basic stem.13 In the domain of detransitivization of Classical Arabic, Stem VIII competes with Stem VII (inqatala), which is characterized by a nasal prefix and thus corresponds to the Akkadian N-stem. It partly overlaps with Stem VIII, but where they differ Stem VII is more like a (medio)passive or intransitive counterpart of the active form without an agent. 14 00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000 000This shows that there is a certain degree of parallelism between the functions of the Gt-stem and the N-stem in Akkadian on the one hand, and those of Stem VIII and Stem VII, respectively, in Arabic on the other. Both the Gt-stem and Stem VIII clearly show their association with reflexivity and reciprocity (the Gt-stem more so than Stem VIII), but both are also strongly lexicalized and often interchangeable with the basic stem (Stem VIII more so than the Gt-stem). The predominantly (medio)passive use of Stem VII agrees well with the historical background of the N-stem. This suggests that in Arabic, too, the voice marker t is older and more lexicalized than n, that t has lost its force in many verbs, and has been replaced by n in certain functions. The impression of parallel development is confirmed by a closer look at the further destiny of the Gt-stem and Stem VIII in their respective languages. As we saw above, the Akkadian Gt-stem became obsolete after the Old Babylonian and Old Assyrian period, except as a literary artifact in Standard Babylonian. Something similar happened in Arabic if we consider the evidence from modern Arabic dialects. Very few of these preserve Stem VIII as a productive category. According to Retsö (1983: 164), it mainly survives in “a rather small group, being limited to the south of the Arabian peninsula (Yemen, Ña¥ramaut).” Elsewhere, it was replaced by forms with prefixed t of the type itqatal (Diem 1982:64–66; Lipiński 1997:397–398). 13

Wright 1967 I 41–42; Fleisch 1979:314; Diem 1982:70–73. For a long list of such verbs, see Zaborski 2004. 14 See, for instance, the formulations of Joüon (1935:111–115) and Fleisch (1979:309–314), and in particular that of Reckendorf (1967:49): “[W]ährend die andern vier Medialformen (i. e., the derived stems with t as infix or prefix.— N.J.C.K.) bezeichnen, dass die Wirkungen unter mehr oder weniger positivem Zutun des Subjekts zu Stande kommen, scheint bei der VII Konjug. ursprünglich die lebendige Mitwirkung des Subjekts in den Hintergrund zu treten, sie bedeutete wohl: die Wirkungen der von der I Konjug. bezeichneten Handlung unter indifferentem Verhalten über sich ergehen lassen. Der Anteil des Subjekts ist negativ.”

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This is indirectly confirmed by the West Semitic languages which have lost the basic stem with infixed t, in particular Aramaic and Ge"ez. They have developed a stem with t as a prefix in all forms. In Ge"ez (Stem III/1 y3tqattal, taqat(a)la) and Aramaic (e. g. the Syriac !Ethp3"el stem ne¬q3¢el, !e¬q3¢el), it is the productive means of creating a detransitive (mostly passive) derivation of the basic stem. Although there can be little doubt that t was originally a prefix in (Pre-)Proto-Semitic and earlier in Afroasiatic, there are good reasons to assume that the consistent prefixing of t in these stems in Ge"ez and Aramaic is a secondary development, and that infixing of t once existed but disappeared with the original Gt-stem itself.15 The presence of prefixed t forms in Ge"ez and Aramaic coincides with the absence of a productive N-stem with (medio)passive function. This suggests that the rise of a new Gt-stem with prefixed t is caused by the urge to create a new (medio)passive for the G-stem, and it explains why it is much more predominantly (medio)passive than the original Gt-stem. The model for this was formed by the derived stems which had a detransitive derivation with prefixed t- all along: in Aramaic (with Syriac as example), the !Ethpa""al ne¬qa¢¢al, !e¬qa¢¢al beside the active Pa""el n3qa¢¢rl, qa¢¢rl, in Ge"ez the III/2 Stem y3tqēttal, taqattala and the III/3 Stem y3tqāttal, taqātala, which neatly correspond to the Arabic Stem V (yataqattalu, taqattala) and Stem VI (yataqātalu, taqātala). Thus the Ge""ez III/1 Perf taqat(a)la is a back-formation from taqattala and taqātala and does not go back to the original Proto-Semitic verbal stem with infixed t. Its fluctuation between a and Ø < i or u (with taqatala mainly in verbs with gutturals) is based on the same phenomenon in the perfect of the G-stem (qatala or qatla < *qati/ula). This also applies to the corresponding Aramaic stem. The final conclusion is that in all West Semitic languages the use of the original infixing Gt-stem is drastically reduced over time. Apart from Arabic, it is restricted to the oldest attested stages. In Classical Arabic, it manages to hold its own fairly well but shows clear signs of loss of function and lexicalization. In modern Arabic, it is largely replaced by prefixed forms, and this also happened more consistently in Ge"ez and 15

For Ge"ez, this is argued by Diem 1982:57–58. However, Brockelmann (1908:529), Lieberman (1986:614) and Fischer (1982:84) consider itqatal to be original and Classical Arabic iqtatala secondary, comparing it with Aramaic !Ethp3"el. If they mean that it is older than the corresponding prefix forms, this is difficult to reconcile with the rest of the evidence concerning the overall development of the verbal stems with t, apart from the chronological problem.

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Aramaic. From a typological perspective, the decline of the Gt-stem with infixed t is not unusual: Ultan (1975:171) observes that “[I]nfixes tend to decay semantically more rapidly than other affixes” (see also ibid. 185– 188). One of the reasons is that infixes are always “firmly and closely bound to their roots. This close physical bond leads to blurring and eventual fusion of the semantic value or function of the infix with that of its root” (ibid. 171). 3. Exaptation The parallels between the use of the basic stem with infixed t in Akkadian and in West Semitic suggest that the seeds for its development were already sown in their common ancestor, Proto-Semitic. In other words, the decline of the Gt-stem and its replacement by the N-stem and nominal markers already began before Proto-Semitic was split up. This would not be surprising, because the Afroasiatic parallels demonstrate that in the Proto-Semitic stage t, both as a prefix and as an infix, already had a long history behind it. In Proto-Semitic, then, the t-infix had preserved its proper function in a relatively small group of verbs with reciprocal and rarely reflexive function. It was no longer productive but there were still a large number of verbs around which had the t-infix but not a well-defined function, a situation which persisted into the historical period, as testified by Akkadian and Arabic, in particular. This opened the possibility of exaptation, that is, of assigning a new function to individual forms from the verbal categories with infixed t. The term exaptation was introduced into historical linguistics by Lass (1997:316–324). It is borrowed from evolutionary biology and refers to the reuse of existing material for a different purpose than the original one. The standard examples are the feathers of birds, which are originally meant for keeping warm, but also started to be used for flying, and the respiratory and digestive organs of many animals, which were exapted for the production of sound. In the history of languages, Lass uses the term for cases in which a grammatical marker adopts a new function which is apparently unrelated to its older function. The new function may coexist with the older one so that the marker combines several functions. There are also cases in which a grammatical marker has lost its function but is still around in a certain group of words and subsequently develops a new function. This is what Lass calls the recycling of junk.

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The history of the t-infix in Akkadian offers some intriguing instances of exaptation, which are more striking than Lass’s own examples, but also more speculative, since they are to be located in prehistory between the period of the Proto-Semitic parent language and the time of our earliest texts. This was the formative period of Akkadian. There are three morphosyntactic categories in Akkadian which can be argued to arise from the exaptation of the t-infix: the verbal noun of the D-stem with prefixed t (the patterns taprist or taprīs in Akkadian), the Akkadian perfect with infixed t iptarVs, and the iterative TAN-stems. 4. Three cases of exaptation in the Akkadian verb 4.1. The verbal noun of the D-stem In Akkadian and Arabic, and to some extent also in other Semitic languages, the verbal noun belonging to the D-stem, the verbal stem with gemination of the second radical (uparras in Akkadian, qattala (Stem II) in Arabic), shows a very unexpected form, namely with a prefix ta- and no gemination of the second radical, see some examples in Table 3: Verbal noun Akkadian Arabic

D-stem Verb

ta¶sistu ‘reminder, note’

⇐ ¶ussusu ‘to remind’

taklimtu ‘instruction, display’

⇐ kullumu ‘to show’

tam¬īl ‘representation’

⇐ ma¬¬ala ‘to make similar’

tarbiyah ‘education’

⇐ rabbā ‘to raise, to educate’ Table 3

The association between this verbal stem and its verbal noun can hardly be original. If we consider the form of the latter, in particular the prefix ta-, they seem to belong to the Gt-stem rather than the D-stem. This is confirmed by a few taprist nouns in Akkadian which really belong to the Gt-stem, see Table 4: Ancient verbal noun ta´bittu ‘quarrel’

Verb ´abātu Gt ‘to quarrel’

Productive v. n. (inf.) ti´but(t)u

tašnintu ‘rivalry’ tēnītu, tēnû ‘relief, substitution’

šanānu Gt ‘to compete’ enû Gt ‘to replace each other’

šitnun(t)u

Table 4

There are many more instances of this type of noun in Akkadian, but most of them have a different vowel, usually a long ā or a short u, see e. g. in Table 5:

630 Ancient verbal noun tam¶ā´u ‘battle’ tamgurtu ‘agreement’

Akkadian: Diachrony and Contact Verb ma¶ā´u Gt ‘to fight with e. o.’ magāru Gt ‘to agree with e. o.’

Productive v. n. (inf.) mit¶u´u mitgur(t)u

Table 5

This suggests that the taprist nouns are originally deverbal nouns of the Gt-stem dating from the prehistoric period in which this stem still had a t-prefix rather than a t-infix. In the verb, the prefix was later replaced by an infix, and this led to a replacement of the deverbal nouns with a prefix with new deverbal nouns with an infix. This is what we find in historical Akkadian, see the right column of Tables 4 and 5. However, some of the old nouns with a prefix ta- must have survived, and speakers could associate these forms—or part of them—with the D-stem instead of the Gtstem. The association between taPRiS and the D-stem is also found in West Semitic, in particular in Arabic, where the pattern taqtīl (or taqtilah) serves as ma´dar of Stem II.16 This is remarkable, not only because it is completely different from all other forms of Stem II, but also because it differs from most other ma´dar patterns of the derived stems as well: they normally show the vowel sequence -i-ā-, e. g., qitāl in Stem III (qātala), !iqtāl in Stem IV (!aqtala) and istiqtāl in Stem X (istaqtala).17 Just as Akkadian, West Semitic has preserved some traces of an older association between deverbal nouns starting with ta- and the Gt-stem, although they are not very abundant. In Arabic, we find a number of verbal nouns with ti- which are semantically reciprocal and often belong to a Stem VIII verb, such as tilqā! ‘meeting’ from laqiya (I and VIII) ‘to meet,’ and tim¬āl ‘image, statue’ from ma¬ala ‘to resemble’ (with ti- < ta- through dissimilation of a-ā). Moreover, Testen (1999:7–14) has pointed to Arabic deverbal nouns starting with tu- (with the patterns tuCāC- and tuCaCat< *t-wCāC-, etc.) and associated with Stem VIII verbs with w as first radical, such as tujāha ‘facing, opposite’ (a noun grammaticalized into a preposition) beside ittajaha ‘to face, to be oriented towards’ (cf. wajh ‘face’). They are remnants of an earlier deverbal noun pattern with a prefixed t-, which was later replaced by the new and productive pattern (i)qtitāl (in this case (i)ttijāh). 16

See Wright 1967 I 115. Ge"ez uses taqtāl in the same function according to Barth 1894:293. 17 There is, however, a rare alternative Stem II ma´dar qittāl (Wright 1967 I 115, sub 6). Rather than an a more original form than taqtīl, it looks like a secondary formation by analogy with the ma´dars of other derived stems.

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Ge"ez has a few verbal nouns of the pattern tVqtāl which semantically belong to the G-stem or the Gt-stem, such as ta¢bāb ‘astuteness, skill’ from ta¢ab(a)ba ‘to be astute, act wisely,’ and tamyā¢ ‘conversion’ from tamay¢a ‘to turn’ (intr.) (Barth 1894:293; Testen 1999:4–5). They mostly have the pattern taCCāC, but there are also a few cases with 3 in the first syllable, pointing to an earlier tiCCāC or tuCCāC.18 Finally, there are some individual deverbal nouns with ta- which can be associated with an erstwhile existing Gt verb, such as Hebrew talbōšet and Syriac talbeštā, both meaning ‘garment,’ which can be compared to Akkadian labāšu Gt ‘to put on,’ and Hebrew tō´ā!ōt ‘outlets,’ which corresponds to Akkadian tū´ātu ‘sortie, offspring’ < *taw´a!tum, cf. wa´û Gt = G ‘to go/come out.’ A remarkable instance which dates back to Proto-Semitic is the word for twins, which can be reconstructed *taw!ă/ām on the basis of Babylonian tū!ă/āmu, Hebrew tō!amīm and Arabic taw!am, plural tawā!im (Brockelmann 1908:79 and 384). Arabic also preserves a corresponding verb in the reciprocal Stem III wā!ama ‘to agree.’19 However, the great majority of nouns with prefixed ta- are either so strongly lexicalized that they preserve no traces of their former association with a Gt-stem, or they have made the same switch as many taPRiS(t) forms in Akkadian and have gone over to the D-stem.20 Even so, they show that West Semitic once had the same pattern for the deverbal forms of the Gt-stem. 18 The regular verbal noun (or infinitive) pattern is taqat3lo(t), see Tropper 2002:96–97. 19 For the meaning, cf. Akkadian tāpalum ‘pair’ from apālum Gt ‘to correspond to each other’ (CAD T 177f.). 20 For a selection of examples, see Kienast 2001:113–115. The relationship between these deverbal nouns and the Gt-stem was already observed by Praetorius (1889:38), but categorically rejected by Barth (1894:275–276) and has apparently been more or less forgotten since. Kuryłowicz (1972:120–122) states that ta- serves to reinforce verbal abstracts and infinitives and is also used as a “simple phonetic prop (without semantic value) used as expressive enlargement or ‘euphonic’ element” (ibid. 120), cf. doublets such as Ar liqā! and tilqā! ‘meeting,’ tim¬āl and mi¬āl ‘image,’ hulūk and tuhlāk as ma´dars of halaka ‘to perish.’ He also regards Akkadian taprīs and taprūs as derivations of parīs and parūs with ta- as the exponent of substantive value (ibid. 122). This might apply to a few individual cases, but it ignores the semantic association of many ta-prVs nouns with the Gt-stem and leaves the source of t- unexplained. Kienast (2001:113–115) distinguishes t- with a verbal function, obviously associated with the T-stems and the D-stem, and a nominal t- which he derives from a pronoun plus a nominal clause. This seems needlessly complicated, and the two kinds are difficult to distinguish, as Kienast admits (ibid. 113).

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At first sight, a shift in function from deverbal noun of the Gt-stem to deverbal noun of the D-stem may seem to be a rather unlikely development from a semantic point of view, because Gt and D have a kind of opposite function: the use of Gt as a detransitive voice marker implies a change from transitive to intransitive, whereas many D-stems do exactly the opposite: they make intransitive verbs transitive. This does not seem to be a serious objection, however. Deverbal nouns are a typical category in which valency contrasts are neutralized (Hopper–Thompson 1984: 737–738). English deverbal nouns such as sight and construction can be both active and passive according to their intended meaning: they can refer to the action of seeing and constructing, but they can also indicate the result of the action on the direct object: sight when it means that which has been seen, and construction when it refers to the concrete object that has been built. A related phenomenon is the fact that the Akkadian infinitive, also a kind of deverbal noun, is neutral with regard to the active/passive distinction. For instance, a genitive dependent on the Inf dâku ‘to kill’ can refer to both the person who kills someone and the person who is killed. The reason why the pattern taPRiS(t) came to be associated with the D-stem must be sought in a significant difference in frequency and productivity between the source and the target of the shift. It seems plausible therefore that the overall decline in productivity which I have ascribed to the Gt-stem on the basis of its use in Akkadian and West Semitic provided a general condition for this process to happen. Deverbal nouns are often only loosely connected with the verbal paradigm and may easily survive as independent lexemes, in particular when they are in common use. Therefore, they can also attach themselves to other verbal forms, which are more frequent and therefore more prominent in the mind of the speakers. The D-stem is by far the most productive of all derived stems.21 A relatively small number of taPRiS(t) nouns associated with the Dstem is enough to trigger an analogical expansion of this model and create a direct derivation from D to taPRiS(t), without any association with the Gt-stem. In this way, taPRiS(t) became productive in both Akkadian and Arabic, so that its original function was largely—in Arabic even completely—eclipsed by its association with the D-stem. Since the secondary association of taPRiS(t) with the D-stem already started in Proto-Semitic, it is one of the earliest examples of the exaptation of the t-infix.

21

See Kouwenberg 1997:110f.

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4.2. The perfect The second instance of exaptation is the emergence of the perfect with infixed t in Akkadian, which has the form iptarVs in the basic stem, with the nature of V depending on the vowel of the corresponding present (iparrVs). It is specific to Akkadian, and in spite of a few dissenting voices,22 it is generally assumed that it is an Akkadian innovation, and that it has developed from a specific use of the Gt-stem. The main argument is that it is very hard to find any other source. However, the semantics of such a development are problematic, and there do not seem to be any convincing typological parallels.23 As already sated above in Section 1, in the oldest well-documented dialects, Old Babylonian and Old Assyrian, the perfect still shows a semantic difference from the other past tense, the preterite iprVs, in that it implies the personal interest or involvement of the speaker.24 This suggests that the perfect function of t is ultimately related to the use of t as an indirect reflexive, which could be interpreted as involvement of the speaker in the event and from there to a past tense with current relevance, to quote only one of the many formulations. The absence of typological parallels makes this explanation speculative. However, it may become more palatable if we assume that the previous weakening of the force of t paved the way for associating forms with infixed t with the basic stem and for fading out the original detransitive meaning of t.25 22

E. g., Loprieno 1986:123–141; Voigt 1987:93–97 and 2002:284f.; Zaborski

2004. 23

Some scholars—in particular Kuryłowicz (1962:64f.; 1972:61)—have argued that the perfect function of iptarVs is an instance of the well-known development from resultative to perfect, which is exemplified by the perfect tenses in modern West European languages, and in Semitic by the suffix conjugation, which is stative/resultative in Akkadian but appears as a past tense in West Semitic. However, this is implausible, because there are no indications that the t-infix has ever had a resultative function, in accordance with the fact that cross-linguistically resultatives tend to come from other sources than reflexives, mainly from statives (Bybee et al. 1994:67f.). 24 See in particular Loesov 2004; earlier work includes von Soden (GAG § 80); Maloney 1981; Leong 1994:151–225; Streck 1995 and 1999; and Metzler 2002: 875–86. 25 It has been claimed that the temporal function of the t-infix arose under Sumerian influence, in particular by von Soden (1965), and more recently by Streck (1995:221) and Huehnergard (2006:13–14). It does not seem possible to argue compellingly for or against this claim. The similarities between the Akkadian perfect and specific verb forms in Sumerian are superficial at best (apart

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4.3. The emergence of the TAN-stems The most important case of exaptation—in terms of its impact on the verbal system of Akkadian—concerns the paradigm of the tertiary stems, the TAN-stems, and in particular the basic TAN-stem, the Gtn-stem. It is closely bound up with an issue which is rather controversial in Semitic comparative linguistics, namely the nature of the Proto-Semitic present/ imperfective. The question is whether Proto-Semitic had a form similar to the one attested in Akkadian and South Semitic, i. e. a form with gemination of the second radical (Akkadian iparrVs, Ge"ez y3qatt3l), or whether it had a present/imperfective similar to the one attested in Central Semitic, which consists of a simple prefix category with—at least originally—a special set of suffixes to distinguish it from the prefix category which mainly has modal function (e. g. Arabic yaqtulu, -ūna, Hebrew yiq¢ol). Only one of these can be reconstructed as the Proto-Semitic present/imperfective.26 Some argue that it is the simple prefix form attested in Central Semitic—preserved in its most archaic form in Classical Arabic—which was the Proto-Semitic present/imperfective, and that Akkadian and South Semitic have innovated by means of a new form which comes from the derived verbal stem with gemination of the second radical. The main problem with this view is that it does not seem to leave any room for the existence of a present/imperfective form *yiqattal in Proto-Semitic, although there are compelling reasons to reconstruct it. First, *yiqattal has parallels in Afroasiatic, namely the Berber ‘Intensive Aorist’ with gemination and the Beja imperfective with infixed nasal. These suggest that *yiqattal has an Afroasiatic background. Second, Akkadian iparrVs does not look like a recent formation, as Voigt (1990 and 2004:35–38) rightly points out, and it is hard to envisage how it could have developed in the relatively short period between Proto-Semitic and Proto-East-Semitic.27 Third, in reconfrom the fact that the function(s) of the latter are often ill-defined), and the widespread tendency of languages to create a past tense form which underlines the recentness and current relevance of a past event increases the possibility that Akkadian and Sumerian developed this function independently. On the other hand, the case for Sumerian influence becomes more attractive as a plausible innerAkkadian explanation is harder to find. 26 There is a huge amount of literature about this debate. For a bibliography, see Knudsen 1982:9, note 24 with additions in Knudsen 1984–86:238, note 1 and 1998:5, note 8. More recent contributions are Kienast 2001:293–295 and T. D. Anderson 2000. 27 Because of the (probable) time stretch separating Proto-Semitic from Akkadian, we should regard all Akkadian verb forms as Proto-Semitic, since however

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structing the prehistory of a language it is generally more plausible to assume a process of simplification than the emergence of a totally new category (Voigt 1990:93).28 It is therefore more likely that the verbal system of Central Semitic with only one prefix stem (yiqtVl-) is a reduction of an older more comprehensive system than that of Akkadian with two prefix stems (iprVs and iparrVs) (Voigt 2004:36). Therefore, most scholars regard the form with gemination existing in Akkadian and South Semitic as the direct continuant of the Proto-Semitic present/imperfective. However, this raises other problems. First, the exact correspondence between the Arabic Imperfect yaqtulu, -ūna and the Akkadian subjunctive, especially in its Assyrian form iprusu, -ūni, compels us to reconstruct this form to Proto-Semitic as well. However, which function did it have? It cannot have been the Proto-Semitic present/imperfective, if one claims that this function was performed by a form with gemination. The usual explanation is therefore that the suffix -u, -ūnV was a marker of subordination but spread to main clauses in Central Semitic and developed into an imperfective marker. This is typologically unlikelong this period may have lasted, it was certainly too short to allow for the rise of the relatively opaque verbal categories of Akkadian; relatively young categories are generally more transparent in form, such as the periphrastic categories of West Semitic (Voigt 2004:37–43). 28 This is Hetzron’s (1976) principle of “archaic heterogeneity,” which states that if cognate languages share a specific (sub)system which is similar enough to be related but more heterogeneous in one language than in another, the relatively most heterogeneous system may be regarded as the most archaic, and the more homogeneous ones are more likely to result from simplification (1976:93). Accordingly, Hetzron (1976:104) argues that the system of Akkadian and South Semitic is more archaic than that of Central Semitic, and closer to Proto-Semitic. The same reasoning is implicit in Voigt 1990:93. I accept the general usefulness of Hetzron’s principle for morphological developments and I agree with his conclusion in so far as the Akkadian imperfective is concerned, but for the evolution of verbal categories in general the principle can easily be shown to be invalid, if we compare the expression of the present tense in other languages, e. g., in modern English and standard German: English has two present categories, a simple present (I write) and a compound one, the progressive (I am writing), whereas standard German only has one (ich schreibe). According to the principle of archaic heterogeneity, the English situation would be more original and the German one would result from a simplification. We actually know that the reverse is true: German has preserved the Proto-Germanic situation with a single (reconstructible) present, and English has innovated (see also Bybee et al. 1994:144). The same applies to the rise of past tense forms, which tend to be enriched by old resultatives or completives (Kuryłowicz 1975:106 and 128; Bybee et al. 1994:51–105).

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ly, since the usual development goes in the opposite direction: verb forms restricted to subordinate clauses are typically residual categories which were once generally used but were ousted from main clauses by a competing form (see in particular Haspelmath 1998). Second, in all attested instances of the renewal of present categories as described by various authors,29 the innovating form is more contrasting, more voluminous, and—at least originally—more transparent than the old one.30 This is what we would expect, since the renewal is motivated by the desire to encode the category in question in a more expressive and/or more “user-friendly” way. According to these criteria, it is unlikely that *yiqtVlu, -ūnV is a replacement of *yiqattal. Quite to the contrary, they suggest that *yiqattal replaced *yiqtVlu, -ūnV, since it has a stronger marking, is more transparent because of its gemination, and is more clearly differentiated from the (original) perfective *yiqtVl, -ū. Third, there is no trace of *yiqattVl- in Central Semitic.31 Of course, it is quite normal for grammatical categories to drop out of use, but this particular case is inconsistent with everything we know about the evolution of verbal categories. If *yiqattVl- was indeed the Proto-Semitic imperfective, it was the basic form of the verbal paradigm and therefore a very unlikely candidate for vanishing without a trace. The usual fate of similar categories in other languages is that they are replaced by more expressive ones in a gradual process, which tends to leave a residue of older forms, often in secondary functions (Haspelmath 1998). This is the picture which clearly arises from D. Cohen’s (1984) investigation into the verbal systems of other Semitic languages. There are no such phenomena relating to a geminated imperfective in Central Semitic. The best way out of this dilemma, which overcomes the drawbacks of both solutions, is to assume that the Proto-Semitic present/imperfective survives in Central Semitic and thus was very similar to Classical Arabic yaqtulu, -ūna, but that Proto-Semitic also had an imperfective with gemi29

E. g., Bybee et al. 1994:125–175; Haspelmath 1998; for Semitic D. Cohen

1984. 30

Opaque forms are generally older than transparent forms, as emphasized by Voigt in the context of the Proto-Semitic verb (1990:87–89; 2004:35–36). 31 There is a long-standing discussion about this issue, see the earlier literature collected by Knudsen (1982:9, note 25), but there seems to be a broad consensus now that there are no reliable traces of *yiqattVl- in Central Semitic, as may appear from recent contributions, such as T. D. Anderson 2000:25 and Kerr 2001. However, some dissenting voices remain, such as Lipiński 1997:339 and Voigt 2004:50–51.

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nation, say *yiqattal, not as part of the basic stem, but of a derived stem with pluractional function. This was particularly advocated by Kuryłowicz (1962:53 and 59f.; 1972:53f.). In other words, the state of affairs in ProtoSemitic was like the one in the upper row of Table 6: basic stem

pluractional stem

PSem. pres./impf.

*yiqtVl-u, -ūnV

*yiqattal-u, -ūnV

Akk. present

iparrVs

iptanarrVs

Table 6. Basic and pluractional stems in Proto-Semitic and Akkadian

The situation in the historical Semitic languages arose from this configuration in a fairly straightforward way: in Akkadian, the pluractional present replaced the basic one and relegated it to subordinate clauses, where it was reinterpreted as a kind of subjunctive, see the lower row of Table 6. In West Semitic, the original present/imperfective was maintained and the pluractional derived stem was eliminated. At a much later stage, South Semitic renewed its present/imperfective in a way which is very similar to what happened in Akkadian, namely by incorporating the form of the D-stem (Proto-Semitic and West Semitic *yuqattil-, cf. Arabic yuqattilu) into the paradigm of the basic stem, see in particular Rundgren 1959: 292–294. What is the connection between this process and the background of the pluractional function of the t-infix? The lower row of Table 6 shows that the change in function of the pluractional stem did not lead to the loss of the grammaticalized contrast between a ‘neutral’ and a pluractional present/imperfective: just as Proto-Semitic had *yiqtVlu—*yiqattalu, Akkadian has iparrVs—iptanarrVs. Where does the form iptanarrVs, i. e. the Gtn-stem, come from? Apart from the participle, which plays no role in the present argument, the new pluractional stem has three different markers as compared to the basic stem, depending on the morphosyntactic category: an infix t, an infix n, and gemination, see Table 7: present preterite imperative stative infinitive

G-stem iparrVs iprVs pVrVs parVs parāsum

Gtn-stem iptanarrVs iptarrVs pitarrVs pitarrus pitarrusum

contrastive markers t+n t + gem. t + gem. t + gem. t + gem.

638

Akkadian: Diachrony and Contact G-stem Gtn-stem contrastive markers parsum — pārisum muptarrisum mu- + t + gem. Table 7. G-stem versus Gtn-stem in Akkadian

verbal adj. participle

In the other TAN-stems, the distinction between the primary stem and the corresponding pluractional TAN-stem is purely based on the t-infix, except in the present, where the marker is t + n, just as in the Gtn-stem, see Table 8: Dtn-stem Štn-stem Ntn-stem

present preterite present preterite present preterite

primary stem uparras uparris ušapras ušapris — —

tertiary stem uptanarras uptarris uštanapras uštapris ittanaprVs ittaprVs

contr. marker t+n t t+n t t+n t

Table 8. The remaining primary stems versus the tertiary stems in Akkadian

Thus the t-infix is the only marker of the TAN-stems which is always there. The source of this t is a much debated question, but I would like to suggest that it is a case of exaptation: it actually comes from the detransitive t of the secondary stems. This happened in the following way. The verbal systems of the Semitic languages have a strong tendency to replicate in the derived stems the distinctions existing in the basic stem, so that a two-dimensional structure emerges in which not only the basic stem but also some of the derived stems have a passive, a reflexive, a pluractional derivation, etc., see, for instance, the Akkadian scheme in Table 9:32 name G-stem N-stem D-stem Š-stem

32

primary secondary tertiary stems stems + Ø stems + T + T(AN) iparrVs Gt iptarrVs Gtn iptanarrVs ipparrVs (Nt) (ittaprVs) Ntn ittanaprVs uparras Dt uptarras Dtn uptanarras ušapras Št1 uštapras Štn uštanapras Table 9. The derived stems of Akkadian (present tense)

The table does not include the ŠD-stem (ušparras), which is a secondary and largely artificial creation of the literary language of Standard Babylonian (Kouwenberg 1997:336–339), and the Št2-stem, also called the “lexical Št-stem” (uštaparras), which is outside the system, in so far as it is basically a denominal category, serving to derive verbs from nouns with the prefix ta- (tēmīqu ‘prayer’ → šutēmuqu ‘to pray’), see Kouwenberg, forthcoming, Chapter 14.

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In Ethiopian Semitic, the same tendency has resulted in a strikingly different system, in which the D-stem and the stem with a long vowel in the first syllable, the ‘L-stem’, have adopted the same range of derivations as the G-stem (Moscati 1964:130), see Table 10: stem G ‘D’ ‘L’

qatala qattala qātala

causative !aqtala !aqattala !aqātala

detransitive taqat(a)la taqattala taqātala

reflexive/causative !astaqtala !astaqattala !astaqātala

Table 10. The system of derived verbal stems in Ge"ez

The corresponding scheme in Central Semitic is less systematic and I will therefore leave it out of account here.33 Thus it is plausible to assume that a comparable situation existed in Proto-Semitic, similar to that in the daughter languages but with its own specific peculiarities. There is a broad consensus that Proto-Semitic had— apart from the basic stem—more or less productive derived stems for the expression of detransitivity (the N-stem and stems with infixed t), causativity (the stem with a sibilant or a guttural prefix) and verbal plurality combined with factitivity (the stem with gemination of the second radical). I am suggesting that Proto-Semitic had an additional derived verbal stem to express verbal plurality of the basic stem, formally dependent on the basic stem, and iconically characterized by gemination of the second radical and presumably also a fixed stem vowel a in the final syllable: *yiqattal, which actually represents the immediate ancestor of the Akkadian present iparrVs, as argued above. If in Proto-Semitic the basic stem had a derivation with pluractional function, it is plausible to assume that the other primary stems also had such a derivation, and that in the case of the Gt-stem this may have consisted of gemination of the second radical in combination with the infixed t, cf. Table 11: PSem basic pres./impf. plur. pres./impf. G-stem *yiqtVlu, -ūnV *yiqattalu, -ūnV Gt-stem *yiqtatVlu, -ūnV *yiqtattalu, -ūnV Table 11. G and Gt present/imperfective forms in Proto-Semitic

In this configuration, the replacement of *yiqtVlu by *yiqattalu in Akkadian left the basic stem deprived of its pluractional counterpart. This represents a violation of the markedness principle that a marked category

33

See for this scheme, e. g. Cohen 1984:60–61; Moscati 1964:148–152.

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will not show distinctions which the corresponding unmarked category does not have.34 To remedy this irregularity the old Gt pluractional *yiqtattalu was re-employed as a pluractional to the basic stem, after *yiqattalu had replaced the old Impfv *yiqtVlu. Presumably, both shifts occurred together as a kind of morphosyntactic drag chain: when *yiqattalu occupied the slot of *yiqtVlu, it dragged *yiqtattalu along into its old slot, see Table 12a with the original arrangement, and 12b with the situation in Akkadian.35 PSem. G Gt

core pr./ipf. *yiqtVlu ←

derived pr./ipf. Akk. *yiqattalu G → ↑ *yiqtatVlu Gt *yiqtattalu Table 12a

core pres. *yiparrVs ← *yiptarrVs Table 12b

derived pres. *yiptarrVs ↑ —

The upper left half of Table 12 shows this process by means of the arrows. The result is shown in the right half of the Table. In the wake of the replacement of *yiqtVlu by *yiqattalu the form iptarrVs, originally the pluractional of the Gt-stem, replaced the ancient Gt present *yiqtatVlu, but in those verbs in which the Gt-stem did not have a clear function it was exapted as pluractional of the basic stem. This clarifies a few remarkable facts concerning the pluractional stems in Akkadian. First, it explains why in historical Akkadian the TAN-stems do not belong to the T-stems, in spite of their t-infix, but to the primary stems instead: the Gtn-stem is exclusively the pluractional of the G-stem, not of the Gt-stem, and likewise the other TAN-stems are only the pluractionals of the corresponding primary stem. Second, it explains why the T-stems themselves do not have a pluractional derivation: they lost it to the more frequent and semantically more basic primary stems. Third, it explains why the preterite of the Gtn-stem is always identical to the present of the Gt-stem (iptarrVs): historically, they are the same form (see below). Once the model iparrVs → iptarrVs was established for the opposition neutral versus pluractional in the basic stem, the t-infix had a new function: since the basic form also had gemination now, the marking of pluractionality came to be associated with the t-infix, which thus became a marker of verbal plurality instead of a voice marker. The tendency of replication mentioned above helped create the other TAN-stems: the re34

For this principle, see, for instance, Greenberg 1966:27–28. The initial replacement of *yiqtVlu by *yiqattal may have been caused by the inadequacy of the formal contrast with the corresponding preterite *yiqtVl. In West Semitic, this problem was solved by replacing *yiqtVl with qatVla. 35

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lationship between basic present iparrVs and iterative present *iptarrVs was transferred to other TAN-stems: iparrVs → iptarrVs gave rise to uparras → *uptarras in the D-stem and ušapras ⇒ *uštapras in the Š-stem. In the N-stem this development was not possible because its first consonant is a geminate, which cannot accommodate an infixed t. Therefore, the same procedure was used as in the N-stem perfect ittaprVs: instead of creating the required forms on the basis of the present stem ipparrVs, they were built on the stem naPRvS: *yintaprVs (> ittaprVs). The spread of t with its new pluractional function led to a uniform system, based on a quadriliteral base CvCCvC with t infixed after the first consonant (cf. also Edzard 1996:17–19), see Table 13. simple stem plur. stem original pres.

Gt(n) Nt(n) Dt(n) PaRRvS naPRvS PaRRvS PtaRRvS ntaPRvS PtaRRvS *iptarrVs *ittaprVs *uptarrVs Table 13. The basic forms of the TAN-stems

Št(n) šaPRvS štaPRvS *uštaPRVS

The later imperfective with -tan- did not yet exist at this stage. We may assume that the differentiation between imperfective and perfective, if present at all, was still made by means of different endings, as it was in Proto-Semitic (present/imperfective *yiqtVlu versus preterite *yiqtVl). This system is the direct precursor to the historical one. In historical Akkadian, the present of the Gtn-stem is iptanarrVs, but this is a secondary form, with no parallels anywhere in Semitic. Its emergence is related to another process which followed the replacement of the old Gstem present/imperfective *yiqtVlu by iparrVs, namely the renewal of all present forms of the derived stems, usually by means of new forms with gemination, just as iparrVs, but where this was not possible, by other means. In the Gtn-stem, this was realized by the reinterpretation of a geminate as a cluster of n + consonant. In other words, the form iptarrVs was reanalyzed as based on an underlying *iptanrVs (which is historically false) which formed the basis of iptanarrVs by analogy with the G-stem relationship between iprVs and iparrVs (Kuryłowicz 1972:25f. and 63): iprVs : iparrVs ⇒ *iptanrVs : x in which x = iptanarrVs,

where the relevant part of the stem on which the analogy is based is underlined. Reanalysis of an original geminate as the product of n plus the corresponding simple consonant is made possible by the rule of n-assimilation,

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which is consistently applied in Akkadian.36 Once established as marker of the G-stem present, -tan- was again replicated in the other TAN-stems: D-stem uptanarras, Š-stem uštanapras, N-stem ittanaprVs. It goes without saying that both the renewal of the Proto-Semitic present/imperfective *yiqtVlu by means of the geminated present iparrVs and the rise of the TAN-stems as proposed here are hypothetical, but to a certain degree they confirm each other. The form iptarrVs, then, testifies to the former existence of a derived pluractional imperfective in the Gtstem. Because of the markedness principle invoked above this implies that the G-stem must have had a derived pluractional as well. It is not difficult to guess what this G-stem pluractional must have looked like: gemination but no t-infix, in other words, *yiqattal-. This is indirect proof that *yiqattal- was once a pluractional derivation of the G-stem. The changes in the present/imperfective categories discussed here are one more example of a phenomenon we observe time and again in the history of the Semitic languages and which has been so masterfully described by D. Cohen (1984) for West Semitic: the functional categories themselves remain constant over a long period, but their morphological encoding is from time to time renewed by the introduction of more expressive categories. This account of the emergence of the Gtn-stem is the most striking example of exaptation in the Akkadian verbal system. Just as in the case of taprist and the perfect with infixed t, the rise of the TAN-stems seems to presuppose a situation in which, at least for a significant number of verbs, the paradigm of the Gt-stem including its pluractional derivation was no longer a coherent unity, but was falling apart, with one form joining this stem and another form joining that stem, but most forms simply disappearing, as we expect them to do.

36

Sporadically, we also find this phenomenon also in nominal inflection. In Old Babylonian, we find a plural erbenētum from erbettum ‘group or team of four,’ in Neo-Assyrian a noun pe!ettu ‘burning coal’ with a plural pe-e!-na-a-ti SAA 2 p. 51:533, although the original form is pe!emtu, see Hämeen-Anttila 2000:24, and in Late Babylonian the noun piqittu ‘appointment, function’ shows a plural piqinēti or piqnēti from a virtual singular *piqintu, see CAD P 393a s. v. piqittu e.

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References Anderson 2000 Barth 1894 Brockelmann 1908 Bybee et al. 1994 Cohen 1984

Diakonoff 1988 Diem 1982 Edzard 1996

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Fleisch 1979 Friedrich–Röllig 1999 Garr 1985 Greenberg 1966

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Hayward 1975 Heine 1999

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Anderson, T. D. The Evolution of the Hebrew Verbal System. ZAH 13:1–66. Barth, J. Die Nominalbildung in den semitischen Sprachen. Leipzig. Brockelmann, C. Grundriß der vergleichenden Grammatik der semitischen Sprachen. I. Laut- und Formenlehre. Berlin. Bybee, J.; Perkins, R.; Pagliuca, W. The Evolution of Grammar. Chicago. Cohen, D. La phrase nominale et l’évolution du système verbal en sémitique. Études de syntaxe historique (Collection linguistique publiée par la Société de Linguistique de Paris LXXII). Leuven. Diakonoff, I. M. Afrasian Languages. Moscow. Diem, W. Die Entwicklung des Derivationsmorphems der t-Stämme im Semitischen. ZDMG 132:29–84. Edzard, D. O. Die Iterativstämme beim akkadischen Verbum. Die Frage ihrer Entstehung; ihre Funktion; ihre Verbreitung (SBAW 1996/2). München. Faltz, L. M. Reflexivization. A Study in Universal Syntax. New York. Fischer, W. Das Neuarabische und seine Dialekte. Fischer W. (ed.). Grundriß der arabischen Philologie. I. Sprachwissenschaft. Wiesbaden. Pp. 83–95. Fleisch, H. Traité de philologie arabe. II. Pronoms, Morphologie Verbale, Particules. Beyrouth. Friedrich, J.; Röllig, W. Phönizisch-Punische Grammatik (AnOr 55). Rome. Garr, W. R. Dialect Geography of Syria-Palestine, 1000–586 B. C. E. Philadelphia. Greenberg, J. Language Universals with Special Reference to Feature Hierarchies (Ianua Linguarum Series Minor 59). The Hague. Hämeen-Anttila, J. A Sketch of Neo-Assyrian Grammar (SAAS 13). Helsinki. Haspelmath, M. The Semantic Development of Old Presents: New Futures and Subjunctives without Grammaticalization. Diachronica 15:29–62. Hayward, R. J. Middle Voice Verb Forms in Eastern Cushitic. Transactions of the Philological Society:203–224. Heine, B. Polysemy Involving Reflexive and Reciprocal Markers in African Languages. Frajzyngier, Z.; Curl, T. S. (eds.). Reciprocals, Forms and Functions (TSL 41). Amsterdam. Pp. 1–29. Hetzron, R. Two Principles of Genetic Reconstruction. Lingua 38:89–108.

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Hopper, P. J.; Thompson, S. A. Transitivity in Grammar and Discourse. Language 56:251–299. Huehnergard, J. Proto-Semitic and Proto-Akkadian. Deutscher, G.; Kouwenberg, N. J. C. (eds.). The Akkadian Language in its Semitic Context (PIHANS 106). Leiden. Pp. 1–18. Joüon, P. Remarques sur les 3me et 7me formes verbales fā"ala et infa"ala de l’arabe. MUSJ 19:97–116. Joüon, P.; Muraoka, T. A Grammar of Biblical Hebrew (Subsidia Biblica 14). Rome. Kemmer, S. The Middle Voice (TSL 23). Amsterdam. Kerr, R. Wie lange dauert die Gegenwart? or The Future Revisited. The Verbal Formation yVqattVl in North-West Semitic. DS-NELL 4/2:129–174. Kienast, B. Historische Semitische Sprachwissenschaft. Wiesbaden. Knudsen, E. E. An Analysis of Amorite. A Review Article. JCS 34:1–18. Knudsen, E. E. Innovation in the Akkadian Present. OrSu 33–35:231–239. Knudsen, E. E. Central Semitic *yaqtulum Reconsidered: A Rejoinder to J. Tropper. JSS 43:1–9. Kouwenberg, N. J. C. Gemination in the Akkadian Verb (SSN 32). Assen. Kouwenberg, N. J. C. Assyrian Light on the History of the N-stem. Dercksen, J. G. (ed.). Assyria and Beyond. Studies Presented to Mogens Trolle Larsen (PIHANS 100). Leiden. Pp. 333–352. Kouwenberg, N. J. C. Reflections on the Gt-stem in Akkadian. ZA 95:77–103. Kouwenberg, N. J. C. The Akkadian Verb and its Semitic Background. Winona Lake. Krebernik, M. Gt- und tD-Stämme im Ugaritischen. Gross, W.; Irsigler, H.; Seidl, Th. (eds.). Text, Methode und Grammatik. Wolfgang Richter zum 65. Geburtstag. St. Ottilien. Pp. 226–270. Kuryłowicz, J. L’apophonie en sémitique (Prace Językoznawcze 24). Wrocław. Kuryłowicz, J. Studies in Semitic Grammar and Metrics (Prace Językoznawcze 67). Wrocław. Kuryłowicz, J. Esquisses linguistiques. II (Internationale Bibliothek für allgemeine Linguistik 37). München. Lass, R. Historical Linguistics and Language Change (Cambridge Studies in Linguistics 81). Cambridge.

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Leong, Tien Fock. Tense, Mood and Aspect in Old Babylonian. PhD. Diss. University of California. Lieberman, S. J. The Afro-Asiatic Background of the Semitic N-Stem: Towards the Origins of the Stem-Afformatives of the Semitic and Afro-Asiatic Verb. BiOr 43: 577–628. Lipiński, E. Semitic Languages. Outline of a Comparative Grammar (OLA 80). Leuven. Loesov, S. T-Perfect in Old Babylonian: The Debate and a Thesis. B&B 1:83–181. Loprieno, A. Das Verbalsystem im Ägyptischen und im Semitischen (GOF IV/17). Wiesbaden. Maloney, J. F. The t-Perfect in the Akkadian of Old Babylonian Letters. PhD. Diss. Harvard University. Cambridge. Metzler, K. Tempora in altbabylonischen literarischen Texten (AOAT 279). Münster. Moscati, S. (ed.). An Introduction to the Comparative Grammar of the Semitic Languages (Porta Linguarum Orientalium. Neue Serie VI). Wiesbaden. Praetorius, F. Beiträge zur äthiopischen Grammatik und Etymologie. BA 1:21–47. Reckendorf, H. Die syntaktischen Verhältnisse des Arabischen. Leiden. Retsö, J. The Finite Passive Voice in Modern Arabic Dialects. Göteborg. Rössler, O. Verbalbau und Verbalflexion in den Semitohamitischen Sprachen. ZDMG 100:461–514. Rundgren, F. Intensiv und Aspektkorrelation. Studien zur Äthiopischen und akkadischen Verbalstammbildung. Uppsala– Wiesbaden. Schladt, M. The Typology and Grammaticalization of Reflexives. Frajzyngier, Z.; Curl, T. S. (eds.). Reflexives, Forms and Functions (TSL 40). Amsterdam. Pp. 103–124. Segert, S. Altaramäische Grammatik. Leipzig. Steiner, G. Die sog. tan-Stämme des akkadischen Verbums und ihre semitischen Grundlagen. ZDMG 131:9–27. Streck, M. P. Zahl und Zeit. Grammatik der Numeralia und des Verbalsystems im Spätbabylonischen (CM 5). Groningen. Streck, M. P. Das “Perfekt” iptaras im Altbabylonischen der Hammurapi-Briefe. Nebes, N. (ed.). Tempus und Aspekt in den semitischen Sprachen. Wiesbaden. Pp. 101–126. Streck, M. P. Das amurritische Onomastikon der altbabylonischen Zeit. Band I (AOAT 271/1). Münster. Streck, M. P. Die akkadischen Verbalstämme mit ta-Infix (AOAT 303). Münster. Testen, D. The Derivational Role of the Semitic N-Stem. ZA 88:127–145.

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Akkadian: Diachrony and Contact Testen, D. Arabic Evidence for the Formation of the Verbal Noun of the Semitic Gt-stem. JSS 44:1–16. Tropper, J. Ugaritische Grammatik (AOAT 273). Münster. Tropper, J. Altäthiopisch. Grammatik des Ge"ez mit Übungstexten und Glossar (Elementa Linguarum Orientis 2). Münster. Ultan, R. Infixes and Their Origins. Seiler, H. (ed.). Linguistic Workshop. III. München. Pp. 157–205. Voigt, R. M. Derivatives und flektives T im Semitohamitischen. Jungraithmayr, H.; Müller, W. W. (eds.). Proceedings of the 4th International Hamito-Semitic Congress (CILT 44). Amsterdam. Pp. 85–107. Voigt, R. M. Die drei Aspekte des Semitohamitischen und des Indogermanischen. Mukarovsky, H. G. (ed.). Proceedings of the Fifth International Hamito-Semitic Congress 1987. Vol. 1. Vienna. Pp. 87–102. Voigt, R. M. The Hamitic Connection: Semitic and Semitohamitic. IOS 20:265–290. Voigt, R. M. Die Entwicklung des Aspektsystems vom Ursemitischen zum Hebräischen. ZDMG 154:35–55. von Soden, W. Das akkadische T-Perfekt in Haupt- und Nebensätzen und sumerische Verbalformen mit den Präfixen ba-, imma-, und u-. Güterbock, H. G. et al. (eds.). Studies in Honor of Benno Landsberger (AS 16). Chicago. Pp. 103–110. Wright, W. A Grammar of the Arabic Language. I–II. Cambridge. Zaborski, A. Traces of iptaras in Arabic. Takács, G. (ed.). Egyptian and Semito-Hamitic (Afro-Asiatic) Studies in Memoriam W. Vycichl (SSLL 39). Leiden. Pp. 160–171.

Innovations in the Neo-Babylonian Lexicon* Michael P. Streck University of Leipzig

Introduction The Akkadian language, with a known history of more than 2000 years, for which two dictionaries are now almost finished, offers a unique opportunity for the study of lexical innovations and changes. New words emerge, old words change their meaning or become obsolete. Several questions can be addressed. How are new words formed? Which semantic developments are attested? What is the relationship between old and new words? This paper concentrates on innovations and changes which can be observed in the Neo-Babylonian (NB) dialect. I do not intend completeness of the documentation. Rather, I will present a selection of 64 typical and well attested words or phrases. The list of examples of lexical innovations below contains 7 columns. Attestation The word or phrase in the first column precedes the range of attestations in the second column. Some lexical innovations are also shared by NeoAssyrian (NA) and thus are common innovations of Akkadian in the 1st mill. BC rather than exclusive to the Babylonian dialect: see ak(k)ī, bēl piqitti, e¢ēru D and unqu. u!iltu in NA designates ‘an excerpt tablet’ but in NB a contract-tablet. The lexemes dannu, nikkassu, pirku, ša¢āru and širku are only rarely attested in NA. Some words are also attested in Standard Babylonian (SB) texts from the 1st millennium in addition to NB. These are NB innovations which found their way into the literary language: allā, ¶amû, kādu, mār banê, nâpu/nūptu and širku. However, most of the lexical innovations analyzed in the following are attested exclusively in NB.

* I express my gratitude to C. Hess, who read the manuscript, corrected my English style and made useful remarks, and to V. Golinets, who provided me with material for the etyma of the Aramaic loanwords in Neo-Babylonian.

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Form In the third column the form of lexical innovations is described. There are four possibilities. First, a lexical innovation can be a loan from another language. In NB, most loanwords originate from Aramaic (Aram.),1 like the words agâ (?), gildu, kiništu, lamūtānu, qubbulu, šelû and te!iqtu. akanna(ka) is probably a combination of Aram. hāk and Akkadian (Akk.) annû. At present, more than 250 loans from Aram. are attested in NB. Some 40 loans in texts from the Achaemenid period originate from Old Persian, and very few in texts from the Hellenistic period from Greek. Whether nāšu is also a loan, and if yes, from which language, is not clear. Second, a new word can be shaped by a Sumerian base. Given that Sumerian as a spoken language already died out more than 1000 years earlier, this is remarkable. On the other hand, this possibility is very rare and, not surprisingly, seems to be restricted to the spheres of cult and writing: see gi¢¢u, ‘receipt,’ lit. ‘long tablet,’ guqqû ‘a monthly offering’ and perhaps riqqu ‘oblate.’ Third, a new word or phrase is frequently derived from an older Akkadian root or roots: adû (?), ak(k)ī, allā, ašša, bēl piqitti, bīt dulli, bīt narkabti/ qašti/sīsî, e¢ēru (?), ¶amû, kādu (?), kap(a)d (?), karammu, ana madakti alāku, ma¶īra epēšu, mār banê, mu´īptu, miš¶u, nâpu/nūptu (?), nubatta bâtu, pūta našû, sē¶û, šalânu-, ša¢āru, u!iltu, ūmussu and utru. For akanna(ka) see above. Fourth, some lexical innovations are restricted to new meanings imposed on older words: amēluttu, amur, babbanû, be!ēšu/bīšu, dannu, ¶arā´u, kī, lēta nadû, manzaltu, maškanu, mukinnu, na¶āsu, nasāku, našpartu, nikkassu, nis¶u, pappasu, pirku, qallatu, qallu, qalû, rasānu, etc., sissinnu, sūtu and unqu. Semantic change The fourth column gives the NB meaning of the word. For old words the meaning in earlier periods of Babylonian is presented in the fifth column. The sixth column tries to describe the semantic change of these words in general terms. Since in fact each word is a unique case, a description like this meets with some difficulties and can only give a first insight into the broad range of possible semantic changes. We can distinguish several semantic developments.2 1 2

See von Soden 1966; 1968; 1977. Cf. Bussmann 1998:420 s. v. “semantic change.”

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First, semantic narrowing: “restriction of the semantic scope or context in which the word may be used” (Bussmann 1998:420). Here belong: amēluttu, amur, dannu, mukinnu, qallatu, qallu, qalû and unqu. Second, semantic widening, “characterized by generalization” (Bussmann 1998:420): kī, našpartu, pappasu (?). Third, metonymy: manzaltu, nikkassu, sūtu. Fourth, metaphor. This category includes mostly verbs: be!ēšu/bīšu, ¶arā´u, na¶āsu, nasāku, rasānu; but also the verbal nouns nis¶u and pirku. Fifth, semantic degeneration: babbanû. Other words which can not be classified along these lines, simply designated as “shift” in the table, are lēta nadû and maškanu. Position in the Neo-Babylonian lexicon The last column describes the position of lexical innovations in the NB lexicon. We can distinguish three possibilities. First, the innovation fills a semantic gap which means that it designates something for which before there was no designation at all. Normally a change in the extra-linguistic reality resulted in the need for a new word or phrase. The words for realia in particular belong to this category: bīt narkabti/qašti/sīsî, gi¢¢u, guqqû, mu´īptu, nāšu, u!iltu and unqu. Other words are: amēluttu, amur, ¶arā´u, kiništu, manzaltu, nâpu/nūptu, nis¶u, pappasu, rasānu/rāsinu/rāsinūtu, sissinnu, sūtu and širku. Secondly, a lexical innovation replaces an older word which in turn becomes obsolete. Without detailed studies of individual lexical fields the causes for these replacements are not clear and probably in many cases will never be. To this category belong: adû, agâ, akanna(ka), ak(k)ī, allā, ašša, babbanû, be!ēšu/bīšu, bēl piqitti, dannu, e¢ēru, ¶amû, kap(a)d, karammu, kī, lēta nadû, mār banê, maškanu, mukinnu, na¶āsu, našpartu, nikkassu, nubatta bâtu, pirku, pūta našû, qalû, ša¢āru, šelû, te!iqtu, ūmussu and utru. Third, sometimes a lexical innovation coexists with an earlier world. I have put “synonym” in inverted commas because true synonyms are very rare. Since all of our information is derived from texts which are sometimes highly formalized it may often be that what we think is synonymous in reality contains finer, different nuances which escape us. However, the words in question at least have more or less the same range of meaning. To this category belong: bīt dulli, gildu, kādu, lamūtānu, ana madakti alāku, ma¶īra epēšu, nasāku ana mu¶¶i, qallatu, qallu, qubbulu, sē¶û, and šalânu-. Sometimes these words at the same time replace an older word. See allā, e¢ēru, karammu, lēta nadû, nikkassu and šelû.

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According to GAG § 121a, the origin of the word is not clear. But in GAG § 113h von Soden analyses the ending as the locative -ū, which would yield an analysis adī (preposition/conjunction) + -ū. If the translation of some EA and Bo. attestations of adī by ‘here then’ in CAD A1 131 adû a is correct (but see AHw. 13 adi F ‘fürwahr,’ followed by Moran 1992:158, n. 7 to no. 87 ‘truly’), this could be an argument in favor of this analysis. (In ARM 13, 44:8 adi ana means ‘and also for,’ cf. Durand 1997:284 ‘jusque pour’; the reference belongs to CAD adi B ‘together with.’) 2 Von Soden 1966:5f.; 1977:184. Cf. hāk ‘jener’ (Dalman 112); hāk, hak ‘this, that’ (Ja. 350). 3 But annû survives in combination with agâ forming the demonstrative agannû ‘this.’ 4 CAD A1 260 (akanna B a) has one Middle Babylonian (MB) attestation which is interpreted by AHw. 28 (akânu) as a different word. 5 See von Soden 1966:6; 1977:184 and AHw. 1542. Cf. hk!/hkh ‘here’ (DNWSI 279); hākā ‘hier, hierher, jetzt’ (Dalman 112f.); hākā ‘here, hither; in this case, now’ (Ja. 350); haka I ‘here’ (DM 120). 6 < an(a) kī. 7 AHw. 270 ezib d ‘m/spB selten.’ 8 The word also sometimes refers to single slaves, see CAD A2 61 c 1′, 2′. 9 Older awīlūtu is both a collective term (‘people, mankind’) and an abstract term (‘status of being freeborn, behaviour of a gentleman’). 10 < an(a) ša. 11 For ašša in NB see Hackl 2007:21, 99–101 and 132–133. 12 In accordance with what is known from adjectives of the nominal pattern PaSPaSS like dandannu ‘very mighty’ and kaškaššu ‘very strong,’ the reduplication *banbanû, although not actually attested, must have had the superlative meaning ‘very good’ in MB, which was weakened to simple ‘good’ in NB. A degeneration like this is shared by many adjectives of comparable meaning in different languages. Thus, in German, the adjectives super or toll, in colloquial language have become words for normal ‘good’ although they originally had the stronger meanings ‘excellent’ and ‘crazy.’ 13 In spite of Aram. b!š (cf. b!š1 haf "el ‘to make miserable’ and b!š2 ‘bad, evil’ (DNWSI 142); b!š ‘schlecht sein’ (HALAT 1678); b!eš ‘malus fuit’ (Brock. 56); b!eš ‘schlecht, mißfällig, böse, ärgerlich, krank sein’ (Dalman 47); b!e/iš ‘schlecht, mißfällig sein, verdriessen, erkranken’ (WTM I 188); b!e/iš ‘to be bad, displeasing, ill; to grow sick’ (Ja. 135); biš (DM 63)), the word is not interpreted as a loan in the dictionaries and by von Soden 1966; 1977. The reference for awāt bīšim ‘bad news’ from Boghazköy (CAD B 271 bīšu 3a; AHw. 131 bīšu I 1), idiomatically almost identical with NB amātu bi!iltu and dibbī bīšūtu, virtually excludes a loan. 14 See Jursa 2005:25. 15 Only sporadically attested in NA. 16 The substantive dannu ‘vat’ is very probably derived from the adjective dannu ‘solid, strong’ as is shown by the adjectival plural dannūtu. Less likely, this plural is formed on the model of the adjective because of the homonymity of two

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dannu’s of different etymology. Whereas AHw. 161 is not sure about the derivation of dannu II, CAD D 99 states “derived from the adj. dannu describing containers.” But in fact CAD D 93 dannu 1a has only two problematic references for dannu with reference to containers: DUG.KALA (AJSL 36, 83:109) translated as ‘a thick container’ but probably simply to be read dannu ‘vat,’ and [dug.kalag] = [da]n-nu-tu (Ú¶ X 237c, cf. MSL 7, 89) interpreted as ‘NA for dannatu’; however, no dannatu-container is otherwise attested, and a form with Assyrian vowel harmony in this lexical list is most suspicious. 17 The adjective dannu is still attested in NB, cf., e. g., Ebeling 1953:89. 18 As a substantive dannu originally meant ‘the strong one’ in general. 19 It is almost impossible to determine similarities and differences between the various containers for liquids. Many words for beer containers are attested, cf. Kämmerer–Schwiderski 1998:59 s. v. “Bierkrug.” 20 Only D-stem attested in NA. 21 Both dictionaries distinguish e¢ēru ‘to take away, save’ and e¢ēru ‘to pay’ although they share the logograms KAR and SUR. The first root consonant of both verbs cannot be determined, and no Semitic cognates are known. 22 For the construction of the word see Jursa 2005:48. 23 For the difference between e¢ēru and ma¶āru in some contexts see Jursa 2005:44. 24 See von Soden 1966:8; 1977:186. Cf. gld ‘hide, skin’ (DNWSI 223); geldā ‘cutis, pellis’ (Brock. 117); gildā ‘Überzug, Platte; Haut, Schorf ’ (Dalman 74); gildā ‘Haut, Kruste’ (WTM I 331); gildā ‘plate, covering; scab, scurf; skin, leather’ (Ja. 245); gilda ‘testicle’ (DM 90). 25 Sum. gíd ‘long.’ 26 Sum. gúg ‘cake, offering,’ cf. CAD G 135 (guqqanû discussion section). 27 One attestation: AnSt 7, 130:31 (Sultantepe, 1st mill.). 28 In NB takālu is only attested in literary texts and in personal names. 29 Royal inscriptions of the NA period. 30 A derivation from kâdu A ‘to cease (?), to come to an end (?)’ (CAD K 35) = kâdu I ‘festhalten’ (AHw. 420) is improbable. However, no Semitic cognates are known. 31 CAD K 183 comments: “There is no reason to connect this word with kapādu. It is most likely an Aram. expression.” AHw. 443 also questions a connection with kapādu. However, there is no corresponding root in any of the numerous Aramaic dialects. On the other hand, a semantic development ‘to plan, to strive’ > ‘to hurry’ doesn’t seem to be impossible. 32 Many other words for ‘granary, silo’ are booked by Kämmerer–Schwiderski 1998:353 s. v. “Speicher.” 33 See Hackl 2007:23f. for the semantic development of kī which he separates from kī < kīma. 34 See von Soden 1966:13; 1977:189. Cf. kenīšūtā ‘compressio; congregatio’ (Brock. 335); kenūštā ‘congregatio; commune; synagoga; schola’ (ibid. 335); kenīštā ‘Sammlung; gottesdienstliche Versammlung; Versammlungshaus, Synagoge; Gemeinde’ (Dalman 192); kenīšā, kenīštā ‘Versammlung, Versammlungsort’ (WTM II 359); kenīšūtā ‘Versammlung’ (ibid. 360); kenišā, keništā ‘gathering, assembly’ (Ja. 649); kinša ‘assembly, congregation’ (DM 214); kinša ‘assembly, congregation’

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(ibid. 214); kništa ‘assembly congregation, place of congregation, synagogue, church’ (ibid. 291). 35 See von Soden 1966:76; 1977:189. Cf. lwy ‘accompany’ (DNWSI 569); lewāt ‘bei’ (HALAT 1731); lwā ‘sich anschliessen, begleiten’ (Dalman 214); lwī, lwā ‘to join, cling to; to escort’ (Ja. 697); lwā ‘anhangen’ (WTM II 484); lwā ‘comitatus est,’ lewītā ‘comitatus; funus’ (Brock. 360); lwa ‘to go with, accompany, conduct, escort’ (DM 232). 36 lēta nadû, literally ‘to incline the cheek,’ in OB and SB most often has the meaning ‘to pay attention to’ which is still attested in NB. On the other hand, in NB it is more frequently a gesture of ‘becoming careless.’ 37 See CAD M1 257 (mār banê 2) for SB attestations from the inscriptions of Assurbanipal. 38 See Jursa 2005:10 for this interpretation. 39 AHw. 102 (banû I 1a). 40 maškanu, in OB designates the ‘threshing floor’ and in MB means ‘place.’ Both meanings can be derived from the literal meaning ‘place of putting.’ But in NB maškanu means ‘pledge’ which is derived from the literal meaning ‘object of putting,’ an example for the much wider semantic range of maPRaS nouns than described by our grammars (see Streck 2002). 41 The meaning ‘witness’ is only attested once in OB, see CAD M2 186 (mukinnu 1a). 42 na¶āsu as a movement of persons is still attested in NB. 43 One lexical attestation each (CAD N2 327 nâpu A and 343 nūptu). 44 According to AHw. 804, the word might be a loan from Aramaic. Von Soden 1968:262: “dürfte aram. Herkunft sein … Allerdings fehlen mir Nachweise für dieses Wort … aus den jüngeren aram. Sprachen. Daher bleibt die Ableitung unsicher.” Cf. DNWSI 723 s. v. nwph: “highly uncert. interpret.” 45 našpartu in the OB of Mari had the meaning ‘written order, message,’ which was widened to any ‘instruction,’ written or not, in NB.s 46 Cf. AHw. 761 “u(nbekannter) H(erkunft).” 47 One NA attestation in CAD N2 229 nikkasssu 3b = SAA 10, 359rev.:15. 48 Semantic development ‘account’ > ‘things accounted’ > ‘property.’ 49 In NB attested only in literary texts (AHw. 144). 50 ‘Something cut off ’ > ‘expense.’ 51 Probably ‘income in form of porridge’ > ‘income of all kinds.’ 52 In NA rarely attested, cf. CAD P 403. 53 According to von Soden 1968:263, the word would be ‘eine in dieser Form aram. sonst nicht bezeugte Ableitung von praq ‘einlösen’; cf. also von Soden 1977: 192 and AHw. 855 perku B. But this is phonologically and semantically difficult: the Akkadian root is *prk, not *prq, and the latter in Aramaic never has the meaning ‘harm, wrong.’ The etymologically corresponding root *prk in Aramaic also has a different meaning: prk1 ‘to break, to damage’ (DNWSI 938); prak ‘zerbröckeln, zermalmen, widerlegen,’ pirkā ‘Widerlegung’ (Dalman 348f.). Therefore, the meaning ‘harm, wrong’ seems to be due to an inner-Akkadian semantic shift rather than a loan from Aramaic. Given that the root *prk has a general basic meaning ‘to separate,’ this shift is not surprising. Note that CAD P gives three lemmata: pirku, A ‘harm, wrong,’ B transversal …,’ and C ‘width’ (the latter said

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to be a ‘foreign word’); the references in AHw. 867 pirqu II ‘Auslösung’ are booked under CAD pirku A. For NB pirqūtu ‘freedom,’ a loan from Aramic *prq, see Weisberg 2000 and OIP 122, 38:45 with commentary p. 73. 54 ‘Something lying across’ > ‘harm.’ 55 Cf. Streck 1992:147f. The logogram GÉME can be read both qallatu and amtu in NB. For GÉME = amtu see also the writing KUR ti-GÉME for māt tâmti (ti-amti) (Jursa 1999:20). 56 See von Soden 1968:264; 1977:193. Cf. qbl Pael ‘empfangen’ (HALAT 1771); qubbālā ‘acceptio; receptio, convivium; adoptio’ (Brock. 642); qbl Pael ‘erhalten, empfangen; aufnehmen; übernehmen; klagen,’ qublānā ‘Entgegennahme,’ qabbālūtā ‘Annahme’ (Dalman 353); qabbālūtā ‘Aufnahme’ (WTM IV 237); qabbālūtā ‘reception, taking’ (Ja. 1310); qbl ‘to receive, accept, offer up, take, approve, advance, promote, put forward, prefer; to confront, meet with, advance (against or towards), bring against, oppose, accuse, impeach’ (DM 404). 57 Both used in the payment clause of sale contracts, cf. Jursa 2005:29, note 155. 58 The relationship between the older and the NB rasānu is not entirely clear. According to Kessler 1991:81, the NB meaning could be derived from the older one: “Es mag durchaus sein, daß die Begriffe entsprechend der Bedeutung des Verbums rasānu auf dem Hintergrund kultischer Handlungen unter Verwendung von Wasser oder anderer Flüssigkeiten, sei es bei der täglichen Zubereitung von Speisen oder deren Präsentation, entstanden sind.” His further argument ((ibid. 82), that a “Grundbedeutung ‘Pfründenaus- oder Pfründendurchführung’ ” might be possible as well is true for NB but does not answer the question of the origin of this meaning of rasānu. I cannot detect an Aramic origin of the word. Note that rasānu and its derivations is in use in Uruk only; in Babylon and Sippar its counterpart is epēšu/ēpišānu/ēpišānūtu (Jursa 1999:44, n. 149). 59 Sum. rig7, the verbal base of the composite verb sa×–rig7 ‘to donate’? However, CAD volume S considers it to be a strange spelling for širku, which has the same meaning. 60 Together with širku. 61 The sissinnu-remuneration consisted of dates. 62 The sūtu rent consisted of agricultural products measured by the sūtu-vessel. 63 Cf. ša lā which corresponds to Aramaic delā. Whether NB ša lā is a calque of the Aramaic expression (AHw. 521 s. v. lā C 2c) is doubtful, because ša lā is attested already in OB. 64 Only rarely attested in NB letters and economic texts, see CAD B 72 balu k 2′. 65 In NA only rarely attested, see AHw. 1203 ša¢āru I 1 and CAD Š2 223 1 b 3′ and 224 1 b 4′. In SB I. mill. references only. 66 Both words only in NB royal inscriptions, see CAD Š3 144 ši¢irtu b and 145f. ši¢ru 1 b 2′. 67 See von Soden 1968:268; 1977:195. Cf. šālū ‘Nachlässigkeit’ (HALAT 1790); e š lī ‘quievit; desiit; tacuit; mansit’ (Brock. 778); šelā, šelī ‘sorglos sein; vergessen; irren’ (Dalman 404); šelī, šelā ‘vergessen, etwas gedankenlos thun’ (WTM IV 562); šelē, šelā ‘to be at ease, quiet, unconcerned; to neglect, forget; to be unaware, err, make a mistake’ (Ja. 1582); šālūtā ‘neglect, error, forgetfulness’ (ibid. 1579); šla I ‘to be quiet, still, rest, stay still, be at ease; to desist, be motionless,’ afel ‘to abandon’ (DM 466).

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68

“Exceptionally NA, when referring to Babylonians” CAD Š2 106 širku A b. For a SB attestation see ibid. a. 69 širku ‘gift’ (CAD Š2 111 širku B) is not attested in OB or MB, and only very rarely in Ugarit, Middle Assyrian and NB. 70 Together with riqqu. 71 See von Soden 1968:268; 1977:196; Cf. "uq ‘eng sein; bedrängt sein; Angst haben’ (Dalman 308); "uq ‘to be narrow, pressed; to feel pain, disgust; to be sick of ’ (Ja. 1056); "uq ‘drücken, drängen’ (WTM III 628f.); "wq ‘to be weary’ (CSD 406); auq, huq I, "uq ‘to be anxious, worry’ (DM 10); aquta ‘distress, adversity, need, evil, ill will, envy harm’ (ibid. 34); aqta ‘distress, need, adversity, hardship, penury, want, privation’ (ibid. 34).

Conclusion The kind of analysis of the Akkadian lexicon which has been presented here will offer us a deeper insight into the lexical structures of individual periods of attestation and the development of the lexicon in the course of time. It should be supplemented by a contrast of the different dialects, particulary Babylonian and Assyrian, which has already been started by L. Kogan (2006).3 At the end, this analysis of the Akkadian lexicon will be an important element of the still unwritten comprehensive history of the Akkadian language. References Bussmann 1998 Durand 1997 Ebeling 1953 Hackl 2007 Jursa 1999 Jursa 2005 Kämmerer– Schwiderski 1998 Kessler 1991 Kogan 2006

3

Bussmann, H. Routledge Dictionary of Language and Linguistics. London. Durand, J.-M. Documents épistolaires de Mari (LAPO 16). Paris. Ebeling, E. Glossar zu den neubabylonischen Briefen. München. Hackl, J. Der subordinierte Satz in den spätbabylonischen Briefen (AOAT 341). Münster. Jursa, M. Das Archiv des Bēl-rēmanni (PIHANS 86). Leiden. Jursa, M. Neo-Babylonian Legal and Administrative Documents (GMTR 1). Münster.

Kämmerer, T. R.; Schwiderski, D. Deutsch-Akkadisches Wörterbuch (AOAT 255). Münster. Kessler, K. Uruk. Urkunden aus Privathäusern (AUWE 8). Mainz. Kogan, L. Old Assyrian vs. Old Babylonian: The Lexical Dimension. Deutscher, G.; Kouwenberg, N. J. (eds.). The

See also the preliminary remarks in Streck 2007:67f. s. v. 3.3 “Dialektale Varianz und sprachistorische Entwicklung.”

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Streck 2007 von Soden 1966; 1968; 1977

Weisberg 2000

Akkadian: Diachrony and Contact Akkadian Language in Its Semitic Context (PIHANS 106). Leiden. Pp. 177–214. Moran, W. L. The Amarna Letters. Baltimore. Streck, M. P. Review of F. Joannès, Archives de Borsippa. Genève, 1989. ZA 82:145–148. Streck, M. P. Die Nominalformen maPRaS(t), maPRāS und maPRiS(t) im Akkadischen. Nebes, N. (ed.). Neue Beiträge zur Semitistik. Wiesbaden. Pp. 223–257. Streck, M. P. Akkadisch. Streck, M. P. (ed.). Sprachen des Alten Orients (3rd edition). Darmstadt. Pp. 44–79. von Soden, W. Aramäische Wörter in neuassyrischen und neu- und spätbabylonischen Texten. Ein Vorbericht. I. Or 35:1–20; II. Or 37:261–271; III. Or 46:183–197. Weisberg, D. B. Pirqūti or Širkūti? Was Ištar-ab-u´ur’s Freedom Affirmed or was He Re-enslaved? Graziani, S. (ed.). Studi sul vicino oriente antico dedicati alla memoria di Luigi Cagni. Napoli. Pp. 1163–1177.

i-ba-aš-šu-ú vs. i-ba-aš-šu from Old to Neo-Babylonian* Martin Worthington St John’s College, Cambridge

1. Introduction The study of ancient languages is lent spice (and bedevilled) by the fact that grammatical forms or spellings which on existing understanding seem erroneous may yet turn out to have an unsuspected justification, whether grammatical or orthographic. This is no less true of Babylonian than of other tongues. Indeed, the purpose of this paper is to suggest that a number of Babylonian spellings which on current understanding are wrong (orthographically defective) actually conform to undetected patterns, by virtue of which they are bona fide. Once this is recognised, the distribution of “defective” vs. “normal” spellings over time and across different textual genres allows one to deduce the sociolinguistic status of the spoken forms represented by “defective” spellings, and encourages the formulation of a hypothesis about the phonological development of vernacular Babylonian. Thus our analysis of orthography will lead us into questions of linguistic register and language change. Part I (§§ 2–7) will present orthographic patterns in different textual corpora. Part II (§§ 8–12) will attempt to mine the patterns for phonological and sociolinguistic implications. After the Conclusions (§ 13), the Appendix (§ 14) will present the data from which patterns were distilled. 1.1. Grammatical domain of the enquiry We will be studying spellings of certain verbal forms terminating in a vocalic contraction. As is well known, when two adjacent vowels at the end1

* I am deeply grateful to Prof. A. R. George and Dr. N. J. C. Kouwenberg for reading successive drafts of this article, and providing encouragement and very useful suggestions. 1 By “at the end” of a Babylonian word we mean followed by zero, with no further morphemes or enclitic particles of any type. Thus in the terminology of this paper the contracted vowel û is word-final in ilqû ‘they took’ but not in ilqûšu ‘they took him/it’ nor in ilqûma ‘they took, and then …’; similarly, the contracted

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of a Babylonian word contract, the resulting contracted vowel (contractedness being marked with a circumflex accent in normalised transcription) is usually spelled “plene”, i. e. with an extra V (vowel) sign, in cuneiform. For example, ibaššû ‘they (masc. pl.) exist’ (< ibašši-ū) is usually spelled i-ba-aššu-ú or i-ba-šu-ú rather than i-ba-aš-šu or i-ba-šu. It is again widely realised that this orthographic pattern has important implications for Babylonian phonology: since non-contracted vowels, whether long or short, are usually not spelled plene in word-final position,2 whereas contracted vowels usually are, it can be inferred that the pronunciation of contracted vowels in word final position was different from that of non-contracted vowels (both long and short) in the same position. Thus, at least in word-final position, Babylonian distinguished contracted /û/ from non-contracted long /ū/ and short /u/ (and similarly for other vowels: /â/, /ā/, /a/, etc.).3 Nonetheless, while plene spellings are certainly usual for word-final contracted vowels, there are also cases of plene-less spelling. These were taken seriously in the pioneering Akkadian grammar of F. Delitzsch (1889), who cited spellings like i-ba-aš-šu as evidence that verbs terminating in a contracted vowel were not stressed on the final syllable.4 More recently, however, spellings like i-ba-aš-šu have fared poorly in the opinion of Assyriologists. They are rarely commented on, and it seems that most scholars regard them as orthographically defective, i. e. as instances of scribal errors known as “lipographies” (omission of one or more signs).5 This paper will argue for a different view, namely that the absence of plene spelling reflects a phonetic change. vowel â is word-final in annâ ‘this’ (accusative singular without mimation) but not in annâm ‘this’ (acc. sing. with mim.). 2 Plene spellings do occur in non-contracted forms (e. g. i-pa-ar-ra-su-ú for iparrasū ‘they divide’), but never as frequently as in contracted forms. In Old Babylonian they are perhaps most frequent in Larsa, where the distribution of plene spellings at large is surprising (GAG § 7e Anm.). In Neo-Babylonian they are quite common e. g. in the letters of the scholar Bēl-ušēzib. 3 A different view is espoused by Buccellati, G. A Structural Grammar of Babylonian (Wiesbaden, 1995), pp. 19–21; Buccellati, G. JAOS 122/4 (2002):874b; Izre’el, S.; Cohen, E. Literary Old Babylonian (München, 2004), pp. 5, 10–11, 31. See however the cogent rebuttals by L. Kogan in B&B 1 (2004):370–380 and 2 (2005):744– 745, who observes that such views are undermined by cuneiform orthography. 4 Delitzsch, F. Assyrische Grammatik. Berlin, 1889, § 53b (p. 123): “sogar bei den Verbis tertiae ‫י‬finden sich – allerdings selten – Schreibungen wie ib-nu ‘sie bauten’, eine Schreibung, die bei der Betonung ibnû́ unmöglich wäre.” 5 E. g. recently Aa. Westenholz in: Deutscher, G.; Kouwenberg, N. J. C. (eds.). The Akkadian Language in Its Semitic Context (PIHANS 106). Leiden, 2006, p. 256,

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Of all the forms which can give rise to word-final contracted vowels, we shall concentrate on III-weak verbal forms (including statives) in which contraction has occurred with the subordinative singular marker -u or the masculine plural marker -ū.6 The reason for this restriction is that, in the corpora studied, other morphemes seemed unlikely to yield sufficient numbers of attestations to produce clear patterns. When sufficient evidence becomes available, it will be interesting to study other morphemes independently, and to compare the results arising from them with those here obtained for subordinative -u and masculine plural -ū. (Some preliminary remarks are offered in § 12). For convenience of reference, in the following we will use “subordinative” and “plural” as shorthand for “a III-weak verbal form terminating in a vocalic contraction which involves the subordinative marker -u”7 and “a III-weak verbal form terminating in a vocalic contraction which involves the plural marker -ū” respectively. (Thus plural verb forms will never be called “subordinatives,” even when they appear in subordinative clauses.) We will further use i-ba-aš-šu-ú and i-ba-aš-šu as shorthand for plene and plene-less spellings of all relevant verbal forms (“subordinatives” and “plurals,” as just defined). All discussion of plene and plene-less spelling in the following should be understood to refer to word-final contracted vowels, so that e. g. *li-i-mu (līmû ‘may they become’) would count as “plene-less” for our purposes, even though it contains a plene spelling. 1.2. Methodology This paper seeks to show that spellings like i-ba-aš-šu conform to undetected patterns. Our approach will be quantitative: we will compare the rate of plene and plene-less spelling for subordinatives and plurals (using these terms in the restricted sense defined above) in different periods

n. 14, specifically on Old Babylonian: “the very few cases of iq-bu instead of iq-bu-ú are most likely simple errors.” George, A. R. The Babylonian Gilgamesh Epic (Oxford, 2003), p. 224 likewise dubs i¢-¶u for i¢-¶u-ú ‘they approached’ on a manuscript of Old Babylonian Gilgameš an “orthographic mistake.” See also E. E. Knudsen, JCS 32/1 (1980):4: “the rare spelling ib-nu for ib-nu-u/ú.” The same view is implicit in GAG § 7e: “Auslautende Kontraktionslängen werden fast immer geschrieben (z. B. ú-ra-ab-bu-ú).” For an exception (Lambert apud George, Gilgamesh 251) see § 10 with fn. 24, below. 6 More will be said on these morphemes. See below with fn. 29. 7 For reasons to be discussed, in § 3 the definition of “subordinative” will be further narrowed to exclude tīdû in the phrase kīma tīdû ‘as you know.’

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and textual genres. We will use simple statistical tests to validate our numerical findings. Counts will be made from sources belonging to the Old Babylonian (ca. 1900–1500 BCE) and Neo-Babylonian (ca. 1000–600 BCE) periods. While it would have been desirable to include evidence from the intervening (“Middle Babylonian”) period, the currently extant sources from this period are too scanty for their inclusion to be meaningful. Fortunately, the picture which emerges from the Old and Neo-Babylonian evidence is such as to encourage a hypothesis concerning phonological development from the earlier period to the later, even in the absence of evidence from the intervening centuries. The oldest (and largest) corpus of sources we shall study is the fourteen volume series Altbabylonische Briefe (AbB), founded and edited by F. R. Kraus. AbB includes ca. 2700 letters, which constitute the great majority of Old Babylonian letters from outside Mari.8 These derive from a number of different sites (though many are unprovenanced), span a period of some three centuries (ca. 1800 to ca. 1500 BCE), and vary in length and state of preservation.9 Though not all AbB letters contain grammatical forms relevant to 8

In this paper we will not study the Mari letters (nor the linguistically similar ones from Tell Al-Rimah, published by S. Dalley and not included in AbB). Nonetheless, a comparison of Mariote and AbB letters might prove rewarding to future researchers. According to A. Finet (L’accadien des lettres de Mari. Bruxelles, 1956, § 1d), “la 3e personne du pluriel de l’indicatif des verbes à 3e faible est généralement écrite comme une brève [i. e. non-plene]; elle n’est guère allongée [i. e. written plene] qu’au subjonctif.” This tendency is not statistically verifiable in AbB, perhaps owing to the paucity of relevant forms. 9 Precisely owing to this inherent diversity, D. Charpin (RA 100 (2006):190) has questioned whether it is appropriate to use AbB as a single corpus for linguistic analysis. We would reply that, while this is a legitimate concern, its weight depends on the nature of the investigation being undertaken and of the results sought. For example, a result which consists in the observation that something is consistently absent (e. g. in our case plene-less spellings of tīdû in the phrase kīma tīdû ‘as you know’, see § 3) is all the more striking if it is made in a corpus which is internally diverse. Also, it is one of the advantages of a quantitative methodology that it smooths over unevenness, enabling one to spot trends without getting bogged down in individual cases. For the present investigation, it is clear that, even if it is internally somewhat uneven, AbB behaves in a way which is clearly different from later non-royal letters (Cole archive, see fn. 11) and Old Babylonian literature (see fn. 18). Thus it is useful (and, we hold, legitimate) to treat it as a single corpus. At the same time we welcome future studies which are able to spot sub-patterns within AbB, and look forward to an investigation equivalent to the present one being carried out for Mari letters—which, as observed by Char-

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this paper,10 the AbB corpus is sufficiently large for trends to emerge clearly. It yields 791 attestations of spellings relevant to our investigation. Still from the Old Babylonian period, we will study a number of manuscripts of “literary” compositions (see below with fn. 18): Gilgameš, Atra¶asīs, Anzû, the Hammurapi stele, several royal inscriptions, etc. (a precise listing is given in the Appendix). These do not constitute a sharply defined corpus, but nonetheless they make for a revealing comparison with the language of letters from the same period. They yield 89 attestations of spellings relevant to our investigation. From the Neo-Babylonian period we shall first study an archive of 111 letters from Nippur, published by S. W. Cole.11 On the basis of their contents, the letters can mostly be dated to the period 755–732 BCE.12 They are accordingly about a millennium younger than AbB. They yield 83 attestations of spellings relevant to our investigation. Still from the Neo-Babylonian period, we shall study the Neo-Babylonian (as opposed to Neo-Assyrian) correspondence of the last four major Neo-Assyrian kings (Sargon, Sennacherib, Esarhaddon, Assurbanipal), whose reigns span from 721 to ca. 630 BCE. The bulk of the letters is published in volumes X, XVII and XVIII of the Helsinki series State Archives of Assyria (SAA). These three volumes contain over 400 Neo-Babylonian letters (many of which are unfortunately badly fragmentary), yielding 218 attestations of spellings relevant to our investigation. For the collection of spellings we are reliant on modern editions. Though it would have been desirable to collate all the sources used here, this was unpractical. Accordingly, within our data there probably lurks the odd spelling which collation would have modified or disposed of.

pin, stem from a period of 25 years, and so can provide very useful synchronic snapshots of the language. 10 The relative rarity of the forms studied here may be the very reason why they have not been noticed to conform to a pattern: if one encounters forms of a certain type infrequently, one is less likely to observe the conditions under which they appear—or rather, to notice they only appear under certain conditions. 11 Cole, S. W. The Early Neo-Babylonian Governor’s Archive from Nippur (OIP 114). Chicago, 1996. The archive also includes a small number of documents of other types (lexical lists, literary compositions, etc.). For reasons which will become apparent below, their linguistic characteristics should be studied separately from those of the letters; and since the number of spellings relevant to the present investigation which appear outside the letters is extremely small, we shall only study the letters. 12 See Cole. Governor’s Archive, pp. 1–6.

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However, these cases may be presumed to be sufficiently rare not to invalidate our numerical patterns. Spellings involving the aleph sign (e. g. i-re-’u-ú ‘they shepherd’) were ignored, as in such cases the extra vowel (in our example: ú) could serve as a sign-reader (i. e. indicating that the aleph sign should be read ’u rather than e. g. ’a) rather than constituting a true plene spelling.

Part I. Orthographic patterns 2. Catalogue of spellings like i-ba-aš-šu in AbB Fifty-two letters in AbB include spellings like i-ba-aš-šu, though since some letters include more than one attestation, the total number of attestations is fifty-nine.13 These figures include a number of forms whose parsing is uncertain (i. e. the suffixed morpheme involved in the contraction could either be sub. -u or pl. -ū), but exclude a number of cases in which a sequence of signs could be interpreted as a spelling like i-ba-aš-šu, but need not be.14 We will cite the fifty-nine attestations with the relevant grammatical context. For convenience of reference we will add the labels sub. (i. e. subordinative, as defined above), pl. (i. e. plural, as defined above) and unclear (i. e. subordinative or plural as defined above, but not clear which). References to AbB volumes will be given in the form X, 13rev.:5′ (i. e. AbB volume X, letter 13, reverse line 5′). Where we adopt the ipsissima verba of previous translators, this is indicated; but we must acknowledge that our indebtedness to previous translators is great even when we have thought it appropriate to modify their translations. Discussion resumes after item 53. 1. I, 38:19: […] `aa-wi-lum i-qá-ab-bu (sub.) ‘(that) … the gentleman said.’

The context is badly damaged, but if awīlum is correctly read, i-qá-ab-bu must be subordinative singular, with awīlum as subject.

13 It should be noted that the number of cases in which a Sandhi spelling (resulting from crasis with following u-Anlaut) is possible are small. 14 Examples of spellings which could be read as i-ba-aš-šu forms, but need not be, include te še mu at V, 232:12 (could be read te-še-mu, i. e. tešemmû ‘(that …) you hear,’ but the context is fragmentary) and i wa du at X, 19:13 (could be read i-wadu, i. e. iwaddû ‘they know’/‘(that …) he knows’; but could also be read i-pi-du, i. e. ipīdū from pâdu ‘to incarcerate,’ used of oxen).

M. Worthington, i-ba-aš-šu-ú vs. i-ba-aš-šu from OB to NB 2. I, 89:5–10: kīma ištu kaqqad / ebūri ŠE’am lā i-šu / u … / … / … / ul tīdé ‘Do you not know that from the beginning of the harvest I have no grain, and …?’ (sub.). Sandhi spelling possible. 3. I, 141:26–28: kīm[a] tīdû / war¶u annû ša (wara¶) ¢ebītum i-qá-ab-bu / (wara¶) šabā¢um šū ‘As you know, this month which is known as (lit. ‘they call’) the month àebītum is the month Šabā¢um’ (pl.). 4. II, 55:4–8: awīlê ša ina a¶ palgi damanum / eqlēti ´abtū / dekē-ma / palgam damanum li-i¶-ru / ina ‘Call up the men who occupy the fields on the bank of the Damanum canal, so that they dig the Damanum canal. In …’ (pl.). 5. II, 85:30–31: ŠE’am kīma i-[b]a-aš-šu / `aa-[n]a bīt šamaš ana aban šamaš ub-bi-ka?-[m]a ‘Despatch (pl.) the corn as it is to the temple of Šamaš, to the stone of Šamaš, and …’ (sub.). 6. II, 97:10–14: kīma awīlūtíka / [r]abītim ana dēkî / [qi]-`bīa-ma / ana bīti [l]ā i-ša-ás-sú / ana ‘Like the great gentleman you are, talk to the dēkûm-officials so that they no longer make demands against the household. For …’ (pl.). 7. III, 170:21–23: kaspam ša ina qāti / i-ba-šu / šūbilam ‘Send me the silver which is to hand’ (sub.). 8. III, 11:14–15: ana wardim amtim u mār aw[īlim š]a ta-ša-as-sú / ul uwakkal ‘He will not appoint an overseer over the slave, slave-girl or aw[īlum wh]ich you will summon’ (sub.). Sandhi spelling possible. 9. III, 15:5–7: ŠE’um ša ib-ba-šu ina sūt šamaš / ma¶rīki lištanni-ma / likkanik ‘Let the grain that became available be remeasured with the measure of (the) Šamaš (temple) and sealed in your presence’ (sub.). 10. III, 23:12–15: [aš]šum ana abbāya / a-qá-ab-bu / anumma šamašwēdam-u´ur / a¢¢ardakkum ‘Since I will speak to Abbāya, I herewith send you Šamašwēdam-u´ur’ (sub.). 11. III, 61:15–16: aššum awâti[m ša t]e-eš15-mu / [k]īma te-eš15-m[u a]tmi ‘About the words you heard, I spoke as you heard’ (sub. *2). 12. IV, 111:35–38: 10 bur eqlam ašar damqu / šumma amertášunu / šumma ša ina qātíka i-ba-aš-šu / idinšunūšim

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Akkadian: Diachrony and Contact ‘Give them 10 bur of field where it is good, either their preference, or what is available to you (lit. “that which exists in your hand”)’ (sub.). 13. V, 166rev.:7–9: ana e´ēdim / u mimma ša ta-qá-bu / awīlê idiglāy / lušārikum ‘For harvesting and whatever (else) you say, let me have the Tigris men directed to you’ (sub.). 14. V, 217:10–11: ana enlil-mansum / ezub ša il-le-qú / 2 šiqil kaspum u¶¶ur ‘Regarding Enlil-mansum, setting aside what has (already) been received, two shekels are outstanding’ (sub.). 15. V, 258:3–4: mīnum ša kī’am ta-aq-ta-na-bu / biri’āku em´ēku ‘What (is this) that you always say thus “I am hungry, I am famished”?’ (sub.). 16. VI, 55:10–13: [kīma?] ¢uppum / [x x (x)-u]m ana bēltíya / [x]-¢e4-e¶¶u / izizzī ‘[As soon as] [this] tablet … my lady, make yourself available!’ (unclear). The restorations [ú]-¢e4-e¶-¶u (pl.) and [u¢]-¢e4-e¶-¶u (sub.) are both possible; [i]-¢e4-e¶-¶u (sub.) seems to be idiomatically unlikely. 17. VI, 130:20–22: ŠE’am ša i-ba-aš-šu / u šammam ma!-li ša i-ba-aš-šu / liqē-ma ‘Take the grain which there is and as much grass as there is, and …’ (sub. *2). Since a plant balu is otherwise unknown, we prefer the emended reading šammam(Ú) ma!-li to the úba-li (“Übersetzung unsicher”) of AbB VI. 18. VI, 155:9′–15′: ina lā kunukkim / me¶er ¢uppi bēlíya / ana bēlíya ¢uppī ul ušābilam / adi mû ibbaššû-ma / ašapparu-ma kunuk šumíya / ištu bābili i-le-eq-qú / ana sîn-išme’anni [l]ā t[u]qqâ ‘Without the seal, I could not send my tablet to my lord as a reply to my lord’s tablet until there was water, and I could write, and they could bring the seal with my name from Babylon. Do not wait for Sîn-išme’anni’ (probably pl.). Other interpretations of the passage are possible, but the difficuties do not impinge on i-le-eq-qú. 19. VII, 93:35–36: dabābam mala libbaka / na-šu g[u]mme[r]-ma dubub ‘Say to me in full everything your heart has to bear’ (sub.). 20. VII, 125rev.:1–8: anāku mār manni š[a rēdi?] / arkatim lā i-šu annu-[x x] / ša ana sîn-nādin-šumi ana m[ārū]t[i]m taddinīnni / sîn-

M. Worthington, i-ba-aš-šu-ú vs. i-ba-aš-šu from OB to NB nādin-šum[i] / šū ana bītíšu-ma ittepi / yâti ana atarti um-ta-lu / ēlēnumma naDi’āku / u bēlī šū gimra ligmur ‘Me, of which man that has no [he]ir am I the son? No[w], about the fact that you gave me to Sîn-nādin-šumi for r[ear]ing, this Sîn-nādin-šumi took (me) into his very house as a pledge. For me they have paid back in excess. Moreover I have been beaten. O my lord, may this one completely cease’ (sub.; pl.). 21. VIII, 15:20–28 and 33–40: tuppam anni’am / ana bēlí[k]a / šūbel[m]a / me¶er tuppim / li¶mu¢amma / ašar i-qá-ab-bu / ummānātúya / lellikā-ma / ište’at lēpušā … šumma atta lupputāt(a) / ina mār tamkārī taklūtim / 2 šina addiššunūšim-ma / li¶mu¢ū-ma / bēlī lišmē-ma / mimma ša bēlī / i-qá-ab-bu / šamšī-adad ‘Have this tablet brought to [your] lord, so that the answer to the tablet may hasten back, so that my troops may go where he says, so as to form one (with his). … If you yourself are held up, I gave (the letter) to two of the trusty merchants, so that they can make haste, my lord can hear, and whatever my lord says—. Šamšī-Adad …’ (sub. *2). 22. VIII, 94:5–9: TÚG? ša s[î]n-asûm / ma¶rīka / i-le-qú / ana bīt ilim / lā ileqqûšināt[i] ‘The garments which Sîn-asûm takes in your presence, let them not take them to the temple’ (unclear). Also possible: ‘In your presence they shall take the garments of Sîn-asûm …’. 23. VIII, 149:16′–19′: nīš marūtuk / u bēlíya ¶ammurapi / ša iturru-ma ana bi-it […] / i-ša-as-sú inanna ‘The oath of Marduk and my lord Hammurapi (be upon) the one who again shouts at the house of [a fisherman]. Now …’ (probably sub.). 24. VIII, 156:15: [TÚG? na?-a¶?-ra?-m]u ina qātíya i-ba-aš-šu it-ta-a¶?la?-´ú?-ú? (unclear). 25. IX, 93:19–24: ¢ēmum līra¶amma / liqûssu lillikam / kanīk suluppī / ša i-le-eq-qú(text: MA) / lillikam / kanīkš[u] l[i?]-z[i]-ba-ak-ku ‘May the message come quickly, so that he can come to take (the dates). May the document about the dates that he can take come. Let him draw up his document for you’ (sub.). 26. IX, 111:5′–8′: suluppū ana ekallim / ul i-ba-aš-šu / attunu tašpurāma suluppū / ana sa¶irtim illikū ‘There are no dates for the palace. It was you who wrote that the dates should go to the retail market’ (pl.). 27. IX, 184:14–19: u šupuršum-ma / ar¶iš ´ibûssu / l[īp]uš / lāma mupallis[a]m / ir-šu ištu ´ibûtam / šâti ītepšu

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Akkadian: Diachrony and Contact ‘Also, write to him that he should do his business quickly, before he has a meddler (to deal with). After he has done this business, …’ (sub.). 28. IX, 208:18–20: mimma / [š]a ta-qá-bu / līpušū ‘They should do whatever you say’ (sub.). 29. IX, 228:21–25: ammīni ašar [x (x x)] / eqlī(A.ŠÀ-li) abīya [x (x x)] / iba-aš-šu e-pe-r[i x (xx)] / u ´u¶āram / ištēn ura[bb]i-ma ‘Why, where […] the fields of my father […] there is/are, […] dus[t]? Now, I have reared one boy, and …’ (unclear). 30. IX, 262:6–11: 2400 ŠE.GUR / ša É.G[AL?] / kaspam il-q[ú] / šatamm[ī] (ŠA.TAM.`Ea.[NE]) uštēti[q] ‘The 2400 kor of barley (for) which the palace took silver I had pass by the administrators’ (sub.). The translation ‘I had the administrators transport the 2400 kor of barley …’ in AbB IX (followed by CAD Š2 186b ‘I made the accountants transport …’) is syntactically difficult, because in translating etēqu Š as ‘cause to transport’ it relies on a meaning ‘to transport’ for etēqu G, but this is not attested. 31. X, 5:31–33: aššum awātim ša tanakkutu (sic!, for tanakkudu) / u ana ilšu-bāni ta-aq-bu / ašālšu-ma ‘About the matter which you were afraid of and told Ilšu-bāni about, I asked him, and …’ (sub.). 32. X, 13:21–23: warkatam purus-ma / awīlû šunu lā uddabbabū-ma / lā iš-ta-na-as-sú ‘Establish the (relevant) facts, so that these men will no longer be pestered or summoned (lit. “… and they (impersonal 3rd pl.) will not summon (them)”)’ (pl.). 33. X, 23:12–14: ´ābū wa[t]rū[tum] / ina qātíni u[l] i-ba-aš-[šu] / eqel ‘We have no superfluous troops to hand. The field of …’ (pl.). Cf. plene spelling in line 19: [´]ābī ina qātíni i-ba-aš-šu-ú ‘the troops which we have to hand.’ 34. X, 53:1–5: ŠE’am ša ina bīt ibni-iškur / mār A AB RI DI / šapku-ma pé¶u / balu tarībatum mār sîn-¶ā´ir / lā tepette ‘The grain which is stored and sealed in the house of Ibni-Iškur son of …, do not open (it) without Tarībatum son of Sîn-¶ā´ir!’ (sub.). 35. X, 151:12–14: awīlam / ša ukaššûma ilikšu / it-ta-na-aš-šu lā udabbab ‘He must not pester a man who continues to perform his ilkuduty profitably’ (sub.). Translation (and interpretation of ú-kaaš-šu-ma), after Walker, JCS 30 (1978):240. AbB X: ‘der einem Neben[v]erwerbe nachgeht.’

M. Worthington, i-ba-aš-šu-ú vs. i-ba-aš-šu from OB to NB 36. X, 186:11–13: šupramma / ašar ta-qá-ab-bu / alpī lissu¶ū ‘Write to me, and they will take the oxen off (to) where you say’ (sub.). 37. XI, 86:17′–18′: […] kaspam ša šakanakkam(GÌR?.NITA) te-ge-[r]u / […] … ‘… the silver about which you will sue the governor …’ (sub.). 38. XI, 172:9–11: amšāli-ma-mi / šugrê-mi iš-šu / appuna-ma ‘Only yesterday they carried off the baskets. Moreover …’ (pl.). 39. XII, 88:29–30: kīma ša sissiktáka / i´abbatu mala i-ba-šu kullimanni ‘As one who seizes your hem, show me everything there is’ (sub.). 40. XIII, 66:18–19: kīma ina ālim te--te-né-em-mu / dīna ana bēltíša qibi ‘Pronounce a verdict for her mistress in accordance with everything you will hear in the town’ (transl. AbB XIII) (sub.). 41. XIII, 84:14–16: [i]štu wara¶šu um-ta-al-lu / UD 1 KAM ana bīt āgiríšu / l[ā] illak ‘After he has completed his month he should not serve even a single day in the house of his hirer!’ (sub.). 42. XIII, 175:15–17: ¢uppī kīma te-èš-te-mu / šulumka / šupram-ma ‘As soon as you have heard my letter, write to me how you are, and …’ (transl. AbB XIII) (sub.). 43. XIV, 25:32–35: kīma 10 mana kaspim / ša abūša lā i-du / adi būšīki it?-ta-/[x (x)] x-al ‘(Goods) equivalent to 10 minas of silver, of which her father knew nothing, including property of yours, …’ (transl. AbB XIV) (sub.). 44. XIV, 27:11–13: [a]ššum eqlim ša nadī[tim] / ŠE’am mala ma-´u / šanîš zūzī ‘As for the field of the nadītum, divide the barley for her, as much as there is, into two’ (sub.). 45. XIV, 30:25–26: kīma u¶innūya na-šu / ašpuramma īmurūnim ‘At my command they (inspected the dates and) saw that my green dates are ripe’ (pl.). 46. XIV, 35:20–22: u ¢uppam ša ittíka / mimma lā ib-ba-šu / ¢uppi būrtim naši’āku ‘Also, I have on me a tablet (to the effect) that you owed nothing, a tablet with a sworn deposition’ (sub.). 47. XIV, 37:23–24: alpū lā i-bé-er-ru / idi eleppíka ‘The oxen must not starve! As rent for your boat …’ (pl.).

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Akkadian: Diachrony and Contact 48. XIV, 66:22–23: ¢uppī kīma te-eš15-te-mu / ina têrtíšu lā tanassa¶šu ‘When you have heard this letter of mine, do not remove him from his job!’ (transl. AbB XIV) (sub.). 49. XIV, 78:5–10: PA.PA šarri? / ša ana ti?-bi abīka bēlī šumšu / izkuru bilat eqlim kirîm u šamaššammī / ša ištu MU 2 KAM ša lā leqêka te-el-tene-qú / uštemmed-ma ina zumríka / ileqqe ‘The captain of the king whom my lord appointed as your father’s successor will add up the revenue of field, orchard and sesame (plantation) which you have been collecting for two years without the right to do so, and will deprive you of it’ (sub.). Sandhi spelling possible. A subordinative in line 13 has the plene spelling: ša te-el-qú-ú a-¶a-šu. 50. XIV, 84:19–21: ana wakil amurri / aštapram / ša wakil amurri i-qáab-bu (end of letter) ‘I herewith write to the general. What the general orders—’ (sub.). 51. XIV, 91:28–29: u itâm ša kirîm ša i-ba-aš-šu / išariš ul kullumānu ‘Also, the existing boundary of the garden has not been duly indicated to us’ (sub.). 52. XIV, 111:52–57: ´ēnī damqāti idin / pagram lā tanaddin / kīma ina bi-it x x `ima / ¶i¢ītum lā ib-ba-aš-šu / ana awāt tadbubu / ana ekallim luqbi ‘Give out sheep of good quality, don’t give out a corpse! If no mistake occurs in the …-building, I will talk to the palace about the matter you spoke of’ (sub.). Also possible that the relative clause belongs with previous sentence, as in the translation of AbB XIV. 53. XIV, 201:16–24: ana mimma ašariš / ana kārat i-ba-šu / uppiš / suluppū i-ba-šu / ša 2 5/6 šiqil kaspim ´ibtum ana kaqqadi / itūr-ma / 3 IGI 6 GÁL u 6 ŠE kaspum / ana kārat i-ba-šu / suluppī šūbila ‘Make a calculation for everything over there on the basis of the going rate of exchange (lit. “the rate of exchange which there is”). Dates are available. The interest due on 2 5/6 shekels of silver has been added to the principal, which is now 3 1/6 shekels and 6 grains of silver. Send me dates according to the going rate of exchange’ (sub.; pl.; sub.).

On the basis of these attestations, we can formulate two preliminary observations: a) there are no plene-less spellings of the subordinative tīdû < *tīde-u ‘(that …) you know’;15 this will be discussed in § 3. b) 75% of 15

We disregard two possible but very uncertain attestations of plene-less tīdû used in the phrase kīma tīdû, as they occur in very obscure contexts and the forms can be read

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these 59 attestations are subordinatives, while only 25% are plurals; this will be discussed in § 4. 3. An exceptional subordinative in AbB: tīdû in kīma tīdû In AbB, the subordinative tīdû < *tīde-u ‘you know’ occurs only in the phrase kīma tīdû ‘as you (m. sg.) know.’ This phrase is attested 85 times, and tīdû in this phrase is, excluding the two highly dubious cases mentioned in fn. 15, always spelled plene. Comparing spellings of this use of tīdû with spellings of all other subordinatives,16 we obtain the following figures. Table 1. Plene vs. plene-less spellings of tīdû in kīma tīdû and other subordinatives in AbB other sub. s tīdû in other sub. s tīdû in kīma tīdû kīma tīdû plene 85 100% 89.7% 373 plene-less 0 43 0% 10.3% p = 0.0004 (Fisher)

The difference is striking (and statistically significant): tīdû in kīma tīdû never loses the plene spelling, whereas other subordinatives lose it over 10% of the time. Thus tīdû in kīma tīdû behaves differently from other subordinatives, and we infer that it was never pronounced in such a way that the phonetic feature represented by plene spelling was lost, whereas other subordinatives were so pronounced. The implications of this discrepancy will be discussed below (§§ 9.1 and 10.1). For the moment it suffices to note that tīdû in kīma tīdû should be analysed separately from other subordinatives, and in the following we will accordingly do so. From this point onwards, except whereas otherwise indicated, when speaking of “subordinatives” we mean “subordinatives other than tīdû in the phrase kīma tīdû.” For the reader’s convenience, this restriction will be repeated from time to time.

elsewise: i) kīma ti-du DUMU? ME? GA?/T[A]? NI Ù ŠU ME IN NI? (X, 42:42)— phps. read tidu-ú!; ii) kīma ti-du ma WI i ma (IX, 138:7)—phps. read ti-du-ma, as suggested in AbB IX. 16 It is possible that the distinction should be drawn differently: subordinative forms of idû ‘to know’ in clauses beginning with kīma, vs. all other subordinatives. If the distinction were so drawn, the pattern would be even sharper (see below with fn. 27).

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4. Relative frequency of spellings like i-ba-aš-šu and i-ba-aš-šu-ú for subordinatives and plurals in AbB In § 2 we saw that AbB contains about three times more plene-less spellings of subordinatives than of plurals. In principle, this could simply be because subordinatives are more common than plurals in AbB, so it does not tell us whether subordinatives lose the plene spelling more frequently than plurals. To establish this it is necessary to consider the total populations (i. e. all spellings of subordinatives and plurals, plene and plene-less). Accordingly, we provide the full figures in the following table (the data from which counts were made are reproduced in the Appendix). Figures for ambiguous cases (i. e. ones where the context does not show whether the form is subordinative or plural) are given in the “?” column. Table 2. Plene vs. plene-less spellings of subordinatives (other than tīdû in kīma tīdû) and plurals in AbB sub. pl. sub. pl. ? plene 89.7% 95.9% 373 281 52 plene-less 10.3% 4.1% 43 12 4

? 93% 7%

sub. vs. pl. (ignoring ?-column): p = 0.0025 (Fisher)

If we temporarily ignore the ambiguous cases, we see that subordinatives lose the plene spelling 10.3% of the time, while plurals lose it 4.1% of the time. In other words, subordinatives are more than twice as likely to lose the plene spelling as plurals. This difference is statistically significant.17 This difference in the behaviour of subordinatives and plurals will lead us to challenge the view that spellings like i-ba-aš-šu are scribal errors (lipographies). For the moment, however, let us consider the evidence of Old Babylonian literature. 5. Old Babylonian literature We now turn to Old Babylonian “literature,” which we define loosely to embrace compositions which employ elevated language: narrative works such as Gilgameš, Atra-¶asīs, Anzû, and legends about the Kings of Akkad, but also royal inscriptions, including the Hammurapi Stele.18 17

If all the ambiguous plene spellings turned out to be subordinatives and all ambiguous plene-less spellings turned out to be plurals, the pattern would no longer be statistically significant. This is, however, extremely unlikely to be the case. 18 The editions used are as follows. Gilgameš: George, A. R. The Babylonian Gilgamesh Epic. Oxford, 2003; Atra-¶asīs: Lambert, W. G.; Millard, A. R. Atra¶asīs. Oxford, 1969; Anzû: Annus, A. The Standard Babylonian Epic of Anzû. Hel-

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It would have been possible to find additional relevant forms by considering e. g. incantations (which are written in poetic language), but this was not deemed necessary: the sample of Old Babylonian literary compositions considered here suffices to reveal a difference vis-à-vis letters of the same period. In our sample of Old Babylonian literature, plene-less spellings hardly occur at all. We provide figures only for subordinatives,19 as these make for the starkest contrast with AbB.20 Table 3. Plene vs. plene-less spellings of subordinatives (other than tīdû in kīma tīdû) in AbB and OB literature AbB OB lit. AbB OB lit. plene 89.7% 99% 373 87 plene-less 43 1 10.3% 1% p = 0.0029 (Fisher)

Thus letters are far more likely than literary manuscripts to lose the plene spelling in subordinatives, and the difference is statistically significant. Before attempting to account for this discrepancy, we will survey the evidence from the Neo-Babylonian period. 6. The “Cole archive” We now turn to the Early Neo-Babylonian Nippur archive beautifully edited by Stephen W. Cole (hence “Cole archive” for short). While this is far smaller than AbB, indeed so small that it could potentially fail to sustain a quantitative investigation of rather rare grammatical forms, it so happens that we are lucky: the numbers are such as to allow several important points to emerge clearly.

sinki, 2001; Legends about the Kings of Akkad (incl. Sargon the Conquering Hero, Narām-Sîn and the Lord of Apišal, Gula-AN and the Seventeen Kings against Narām-Sîn, and The Cuthean Legend): Westenholz, J. G. Legends of the Kings of Akkade. Winona Lake, 1997; Hammurapi Stele: Borger, R. Babylonischassyrische Lesestücke. Rome, 1979; other royal inscriptions: Frayne, D. Old Babylonian Period (RIME 4). Toronto, 1990. Obviously, where these works edit Old Babylonian and non-Old-Babylonian manuscripts, this section of our paper only draws on the Old Babylonian ones. 19 There are no attestations of the phrase kīma tīdû in the sample of literary manuscripts studied here. 20 When a spelling of a form in a composition is preserved on multiple manuscripts (in the terminology of RIME 4: “exemplars”), these are counted as separate attestations (cf. fn. 52 below).

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The spellings (plene vs. non-plene) of subordinatives and plurals in letters from the Cole archive can be tabulated as follows. Table 4. Plene vs. plene-less spellings of subordinatives and plurals in the Cole archive plene plene-less

sub. 48 1?

pl. 19 7

? 1 3

sub. 98% 2%

pl. 73% 27%

? 25% 75%

sub. vs. pl. (ignoring ?-column): p = 0.0020 (Fisher)

We see that there is a conspicuous, and statistically significant, difference between subordinatives and plurals. Such a difference was found also in AbB, but in the Cole archive the tendency in AbB is reversed: in AbB it was subordinatives who lost the plene spelling more frequently than plurals (10.3% vs. 4.1%), whereas here it is plurals who lose it more frequently than subordinatives (27% vs. 2%). The most substantive difference between AbB and the Cole archive resides in the behaviour of plurals. The difference is statistically highly significant. Table 5. Plene vs. plene-less spellings of plurals in AbB and the Cole archive plene plene-less

AbB 281 12

Cole 19 7

AbB 95.9% 4.1%

Cole 73% 27%

p = 0.0003 (Fisher)

By contrast, the difference between AbB and the Cole archive in the behaviour of subordinatives is not substantive. Table 6. Plene vs. plene-less spellings of subordinatives in AbB and the Cole archive plene plene-less

AbB 373 43

Cole 48 1

AbB 89.7% 10.3%

Cole 98% 2%

(not statistically significant)

The distribution is statistically significant, and even if the single plene-less spelling in the Cole archive were discounted on the principle testis unus testis nullus, the statistical correlation would be very poor. Accordingly, there is no reason to think that the two corpora have substantively different proportions of plene-less subordinatives.21

21

In general, when applying Fisher’s exact test (and similar ones) it is desirable to collect a sufficiently large sample for no cell to contain numbers (other than zero) smaller than c. 7. Unfortunately, we cannot increase our sample size, owing to lack of evidence.

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Be that as it may, the incidence of plene-less plurals in the Cole archive (27%) is far too high for lipography to be conceivable. Thus the spelling of word-final contracted vowels in plurals has changed significantly vis-àvis AbB. For subordinatives, we provisionally reserve judgement (the question will be taken up again in § 10 below). Before attempting an interpretation and explanation of these patterns, let us consider spellings in the Sargonid correspondence, which being only slightly later than the Cole archive provides a useful point of virtually synchronic comparison. 7. The Neo-Babylonian correspondence of the Sargonid kings We now turn to the Neo-Babylonian correspondence of the Sargonid kings (Sargon, Sennacherib, Esarhaddon and Assurbanipal). As mentioned above, their reigns span from 722 to ca. 630 BCE, so that their correspondence is virtually contemporary with (ca. 1 century removed from) the Cole archive. In the Neo-Babylonian Sargonid correspondence, plene-less spellings are very rare tout court, with no significant difference between subordinatives and plurals.22 Table 7. Plene vs. plene-less spellings of subordinatives and plurals in Neo-Babylonian Sargonid correspondence ? sub. pl. plene 101 86 27 plene-less 1 + 1? 2 0 (not statistically significant)

The four plene-less spellings are: 1) i-na-áš-šú (X, 113:18e.), plural; 2) ú-še-´u (XVII, 73e.:16), subordinative; 3) ú-mas-su (XVII, 129rev.:23), plural; 4) and i-ba-áš-šú (XVIII, 83rev.:2), which is probably subordinative, but which, written u for historical i being unremarkable in Neo-Babylonian, could also be a spelling of the fossilised verb form ibašši used as an adverb. If this were so, the form would not be relevant to our investigation, and the number of relevant plene-less spellings would drop to three.

22

The virtual consistency of plene spellings in Sargonid letters was reported already by J. P. Hyatt (The Treatment of Final Vowels in Early Neo-Babylonian. New Haven, 1951), p. 57: “A final circumflected vowel was always preserved … in the script.” Hyatt also claims that “circumflected” vowels were “always preserved in the pronunciation,” but we shall argue in § 11 that the Sargonid correspondence is not representative of vernacular pronunciation.

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The Neo-Babylonian Sargonid correspondence thus presents a situation different from that of both AbB and the Cole archive, but very similar to that of Old Babylonian literature.

Part II. Analysis and interpretation of the patterns 8. Outline So far we have collected spellings of subordinatives and plurals (as defined in § 1) in four groups of sources, two of these groups being Old Babylonian (AbB and literature), and two Neo-Babylonian (Cole archive and Sargonid correspondence). AbB and the Cole archive contained numerous plene-less spellings, whereas Old Babylonian literature and the Sargonid correspondence contained almost none. Where plene-less spellings were numerous (AbB and Cole archive), they appeared with different frequencies for subordinatives and plurals (in AbB there was a third category, the exceptional subordinative tīdû in the phrase kīma tīdû ‘as you know’). In this section we shall attempt to demonstrate the import of these patterns, and show that they are informative about both phonology and sociolinguistics. We shall begin by arguing that plene-less spellings are not erroneous (lipographic), and should rather be understood to reflect phonetic reality (§ 9). We will then discuss the phonological basis of plene-lessness, and chart its distribution through time, formulating a hypothesis about the phonological development of vernacular Babylonian (§ 10). We will then attempt to explain, in terms of their use of different language registers, why there are differences across textual corpora from the same period (§ 11). Finally, we will make some suggestions about how our methodology and findings might be applied to the study of forms other than those considered here (i. e. other than subordinatives and plurals as defined in § 1). 9. Arguments against spellings like i-ba-aš-šu being erroneous As remarked above (cf. fn. 5), the communis opinio of scholarship today seems to be that spellings like i-ba-aš-šu are simple scribal errors (lipographies). If the occurrences of such spellings are scrutinised, however, their distribution argues against this view. 9.1. AbB We have seen that in AbB the subordinative tīdû ‘you (m. sg.) know’ in the phrase kīma tīdû ‘as you know’ is always (subject to fn. 15) spelled plene, whereas other subordinatives lose the plene spelling over 10% of the

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time. Plurals lose the plene spelling less than half as frequently, ca. 4% of the time. We thus have a threefold distinction in the likelihood of losing the plene spelling. This situation gives us two strong indications that the absence of plene spelling is not simply erroneous (lipographic). First, in so large a corpus as AbB, one would expect lipographies to be spread with statistically equivalent frequency over all three categories (tīdû in kīma tīdû, other subordinatives, and plurals).23 However, the plene-less spellings are not so distributed: they are entirely absent from one of the three categories (tīdû), and occur with significantly different frequencies in the other two. Second, once one excludes the attestations of tīdû in kīma tīdû, the sheer number of plene-less subordinatives is striking: over 10%. Though quantitative study of the frequency of different types of errors has not yet commenced for cuneiform, impressionistically speaking it would be surprising for a particular group of grammatical forms (i. e. subordinatives other than tīdû in kīma tīdû) to be spelled erroneously over 10% of the time. Since plene-less spellings are neither so distributed, nor as rare, as errors should be, we infer that they are not errors. It also deserves mention that there are three letters where one meets two plene-less spellings (item 11 0 in § 2 = III, 61; item 020 = VII, 125; item 021 = VIII, 15), and one where one meets three (item 53 = XIV, 201). These, the latter in particular, further militate against the supposition of lipography. Whether plene-less spellings of plurals are also bona fide is uncertain. As an incidence of errors, impressionistically speaking 4.1% hovers on the brink of plausibility, and it is conceivable, though far from certain, that all plene-less plurals in AbB are lipographic. In the present state of knowledge we cannot resolve this question. 9.2. The Cole archive In the Cole archive, plurals lose the plene spelling far more often than subordinatives (27% vs. 6%), and the difference is statistically significant. Similar considerations apply to those voiced above for AbB: one would expect errors to be distributed with statistically equivalent frequency (cf. 23

“Statistically equivalent frequency over all … categories” does not mean that all categories should necessarily display the same percentage of lipographies, but that, if they display different percentages, the appropriate statistical test should show that the differences are not significant, i. e. that they can be understood as fluctuations around a core common percentage.

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fn. 23) across the two categories. Also, as with the 10.3% of plene-less subordinatives in AbB, 27% is an implausibly high incidence of errors in a particular grammatical category (plurals). Thus, as in AbB, the distribution of plene-less spellings in the Cole archive argues against their being errors. 9.3. Overall Although it is possible, even likely, that a small number of the plene-less spellings which we encountered are simply lipographic, this explanation does not convince for the phenomenon of plene-lessness at large. In AbB, subordinatives other than tīdû in kīma tīdû ‘as you know’ lose the plene spelling too often for all these forms to be errors, and the same is true of plurals in the Cole archive. This view is confirmed by the statistically uneven distribution of plene-less spellings across different grammatical categories (plurals vs. subordinatives vs.—in AbB—the exceptional subordinative tīdû in kīma tīdû ‘as you know’). We conclude that scribes could intentionally spell certain forms nonplene. What this tells us about Babylonian phonology will be discussed in the following section. 10. Spellings like i-ba-aš-šu: a phonological interpretation Since spellings like i-ba-aš-šu are generally dismissed as erroneous, they have excited few phonological interpretations.24 If however their distribution and incidence show that they are not errors, as argued in the previous section, then phonological interpretation becomes necessary. In this section we shall attempt to provide one. As stated at the outset, we interpret plene spellings as representing a phonetic feature which distinguishes contracted vowels from non-contracted ones. Conversely, we presume that the absence of plene spelling where one expects it testifies to the loss of this phonetic feature.25 Thus 24

An exception is W. G. Lambert, who remarked apropos of i-ba-aš-šu ina ‘(that …) exists in’ on an Old Babylonian manuscript of Gilgameš from Tell Harmal that “the lack of plene marking of the final -û … may … be explained as signifying a running together of ibaššû and ina” (personal communication reported—in content rather than as a direct quotation—by George, Gilgamesh, p. 251). 25 An alternative view might be that contracted vowels were always pronounced with the phonetic feature which distinguished them from non-contracted ones, but that this phonetic feature was not always represented in writing.

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plene-less spellings show that in pronunciation contracted vowels were sometimes reduced to sound like non-contracted ones. In general terms, then, plene-lessness testifies to something which is very well documented cross-linguistically: word-final syllables being pronounced less distinctly, leading to their phonetic erosion.26 We will now examine the distribution of plene-less spellings within the two corpora where they appear most frequently (AbB and the Cole archive), and formulate a hypothesis about the evolution of the pronunciation of vernacular Babylonian from the Old to the Neo-Babylonian period. 10.1. AbB We saw that in AbB the subordinative tīdû in the phrase kīma tīdû ‘as you know’ never (subject to fn. 15) loses the plene spelling, whereas other subordinatives do. The difference is very unlikely to be due to the phonetics of the contraction—many III-weak verbs produce contractions which we believe to be phonetically identical to that in tīdû. In other words, it is very unlikely that there is anything unique about the form tīdû (or its û-vowel) per se. The difference must arise on the sentence level: the phrase kīma tīdû ‘as you know’ was consistently pronounced in such a way as to preclude loss of the phonetic feature represented by plene spelling.27 We thus take the difference between tīdû and However, if plene spellings could simply be omitted at the whim of the scribe (rather than in accordance with phonological principles) then one would expect plene-less spellings to occur, like errors, with statistically even distribution (cf. fn. 23) across different grammatical categories (plurals, subordinatives, and the exceptional subordinative tīdû in kīma tīdû ‘as you know’). That they do not is a strong argument against the view just mentioned. 26 In Babylonian, as in many languages, this process is widely supposed to have affected non-contracted word-final vowels, and thus to be responsible for the erosion of nominal case markings. 27 It is possible (i. e. consistent with the evidence, but not proven by it) that the same manner of pronunciation which precluded loss of the feature represented by plene spelling applied to all kīma clauses including subordinative forms of the verb idû ‘to know.’ If this were so, rather than between “tīdû in kīma tīdu” and “other subordinatives,” the distinction should be drawn between “subordinative forms of idû in kīma clauses” and “other subordinatives.” As observed in fn. 16, the pattern would become numerically sharper, for a number of plene spellings currently housed in the “other subordinatives” category (e. g. AbB I, 18:10: kīma šāpirī i-du-ú ‘as my boss knows’) would migrate to the “subordinative forms of idû in kīma clauses” category, and the proportion of plene-less spellings in the “other subordinatives” category would rise.

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other subordinatives as evidence that in Old Babylonian times the presence/absence of the feature represented by plene spelling was, at least in part, dictated by sentence prosody.28 Another observation made in AbB was that subordinatives (other than tīdû in kīma tīdû) are more than twice as likely to lose the plene spelling as plurals. Accounting for this is difficult in the present state of knowledge, as there are several important unknowns. The first of these is the uncertainty as to whether plene-less plurals are bona fide, or scribal errors (lipographies). We argued that subordinatives lose the plene spelling too often (10.3% of cases) for all plene-less subordinatives to be scribal errors, but this argument need not apply to plurals, whose incidence of plene-lessness is lower (4.1%). Thus it is clear that subordinatives and plurals lose the phonetic feature represented by plene spelling at different rates, but the extent of this difference is not certain: it could be “sometimes” (sub.) vs. “less often” (pl.), or it could be “sometimes” (sub.) vs. “never” (pl.). The second unknown which complicates comparisons of subordinatives and plurals arises with the phonetic characteristics of their respective morphemes. The widespread Assyriological distinction between short -u (sub.) and long -ū (m. pl.) is largely conventional,29 promoted by its useful ability to disambiguate many verbal forms in normalised transcription (e. g. sub. iparrasu ‘(that …) he divides’ vs. m. pl. iparrasū ‘they divide’). In the present state of knowledge it must be recognised that the difference may not have existed: the subordinative morpheme could have been long (-ū), and phonetically identical to the masculine plural marker. Given these (and other) unknowns, it would be unwise to offer a single explanation of the different behaviour of subordinatives (other than tīdû in kīma tīdû) and plurals in AbB. At least two possible explanations suggest themselves. They are not exclusive, so both may be correct simultaneously. First, if the subordinative and masculine plural morphemes really were phonetically different (-u vs. -ū), it is possible that they gave rise to phonetically different contractions,30 so that e. g. the û-vowel in subordi28

It would be interesting to investigate whether the consistency in pronunciation tallies with consistency in pragmatic function, i. e. whether (as is intuitively possible) kīma tīdû ‘as you know’ always fulfils the same rhetorical function in AbB letters. 29 The length of the masculine plural morpheme is supported by comparative evidence, so the unknown quantity is the subordinative marker. 30 Spellings in lexical lists from Old Babylonian Nippur indicate that the û resulting from contraction of a + u was phonetically different from that resulting from contraction of i + u and u + u (Poebel, A. Studies in Akkadian Grammar (AS

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native-ibaššû was phonetically different from that in plural-ibaššû. If this were so, the difference might (depending on its nature) have given the plural-û greater resistance to erosion than the subordinative-û, and this could explain the different rates of plene-less spelling. (Indeed some scholars may regard our findings as supporting the view that the two morphemes were phonetically different, but we prefer to remain cautious about this.) Second, one might reasonably wonder whether the fact that subordinatives lose the plene spelling more often than plurals indicates that pleneless forms are non-pausal: since the great majority of subordinate clauses precede the main clause or are embedded in it, one could imagine that the feature represented by plene spelling was lost because the speaker’s voice rushed on to speak the rest of the sentence, so that the word’s final syllable was not pronounced distinctly, but reduced. If this were the case, one might expect to find a difference in rates of plene-less spelling between plurals occurring in subordinative clauses (embedded in the sentence) and plurals occurring in main clauses (at the end of the sentence).31 Unfortunately, the relevant numbers are too small to allow analysis of this.32 The explanation of plene-less spellings in terms of non-pausality would cohere with the evidence from kīma tīdû that a factor in determining the phonetic change resulting in plene-lessness was sentence prosody, but this does not amount to proof. For AbB, then, we must content ourselves with the observation that there is a phonological difference between subordinatives and plurals, though its extent cannot be measured exactly, nor its causes ascertained with confidence. On the evidence of the behaviour of tīdû in kīma tīdû, one factor which induces (the phonetic change resulting in) plene-lessness is sentence prosody, but there may have been others. Patchy though this picture is, it nonetheless makes for an instructive comparison with the Cole archive.

9). Chicago, 1939, pp. 116–117 and fn. 1, p. 117; cf. Westenholz, Aa. ZA 81 (1981):10–19). Thus the phonetic character of a contracted vowel could vary with the quality of the constituent vowels. The hypothesis above is that it also varied with their quantity. 31 Babylonian prose sentences are usually verb-final. 32 This is a powerful illustration of just how large corpora have to be, to enable quantitative analysis of grammatical minutiae. We set out with fourteen volumes of letters, and still there are issues for which the evidence is too thin to permit an investigation.

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10.2. The Cole archive The Old Babylonian period, from which the AbB corpus dates, ended around 1500 BCE. The next six centuries yield too little evidence to undertake a quantitative study of spellings of subordinatives and plurals, so we cannot continually monitor the language as it changes. Nonetheless, the Cole archive provides us with a very useful snapshot of the language in the years ca. 750 to ca. 730 BCE. Thus though we cannot observe the evolution from Old to Neo-Babylonian as it happens, we can study its results. We saw above (§ 6) that subordinatives in the Cole archive do not behave significantly differently from those in AbB, whereas Cole plurals lose the plene spelling far more often than those in AbB. Thus, over the six-seven centuries which separate the two corpora, plurals underwent a development which subordinatives did not. To account for this divergence, we will formulate a hypothesis about the evolution of vernacular Babylonian from the time of AbB to that of the Cole archive. Our hypothesis may of course be supported, refined or corrected by future textual finds (particularly from the time between AbB and the Cole archive). Our hypothesis involves the history of both “III-strong”33 and III-weak verbs, and combines well known facts with the evidence of the previous sections and some supposition. In brief, it runs thus: the plurals of III-weak verbs were modified by analogy with plurals of III-strong verbs, whereas subordinatives of III-weak verbs were not modified by analogy with subordinatives of III-strong verbs; and the analogical change in III-weak plurals occurred after the loss of the subordinative marker in III-strong verbs. 10.3. The history of III-strong subordinatives34 As is well known, at some point by or in the early first millennium, vernacular Babylonian gave up the subordinative marker -u, at least in freestanding35 forms of most36 III-strong verbs. Thus subordinatives like ipar33

By “III-strong” verbs we mean verbs that are not III-weak (though they may be I- or II-weak). 34 In this section (10.3) “subordinative” means “a form of a III-strong verb in which one expects the subordinative marker -u.” 35 By “free-standing” we mean followed by zero (no -ma, no suffixes). 36 The doubtful cases are: a) G-stem perfects and Gt preterites of verbs with three strong radicals (e. g. iptaras). In these forms, the addition of the subordinative marker resulted in vowel syncope and change to the syllabic structure (non-sub. iptaras vs. sub. iptarsu). Hence it is possible that forms with the subordinative marker were retained (or that forms which originally had the subordinative marker continued to be distin-

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rasu ‘(that …) he divides’ and irrubu ‘(that …) he enters’ became /iparras/ and /irrub/ in vernacular language. This was sometimes reflected in writing, though owing to orthographic conservatism, and perhaps also to linguistic conservatism of literate speakers,37 the erstwhile subordinative marker -u often appears in writing even in the first millennium. A clear terminus ante quem for the onset of the loss of the subordinative marker is provided by the Cole archive. Examples of subordinatives ending in zero in the archive include the following:38 u agannû / kī ta-b[u]-uk ‘But if you have (already) l[e]d these away, …’ (7:17–18; transl. Cole). šamû / kī anāku u atta ni-par-`raa-[a]s ‘By heaven, you and I cannot break (the oath)’ (23:6–7, oath; transl. Cole). kī te-pu-uš ‘Just as you made (it), …’ (30:17; transl. Cole). ana mu¶¶i ša kī pî annî / mār šipríka i-pu-ul / ašapparaššumma ‘I will write to him about the fact that this is how he (allegedly) answered your messenger’ (33:16–18). enna adû kī / ¢ābta a¶ūya uqattû-ma / i-pu-uš ‘Now then, if my brother has made a complete end to friendly relations, …’ (35:4–6; transl. Cole). bēl u nabû lū īdû / kī ša lā kaspi nībi ta-`naa-ši ‘May Bēl and Nabû know that without silver you cannot carry away an(y) amount’ (43:28–29, oath; transl. Cole).

guished in some way, even after the subordinative marker was lost). b) G-stem presents of verbs which were III-strong but II-weak, e. g. mâtu ‘to die,’ sub. imuttu ‘(that …) he dies.’ Here the subordinative marker might have been “protected” against erosion by the double t (see probably i-¶a-aš-ši, fn. 46). These two cases (a and b) deserve separate investigation (which cannot be undertaken here), though this would be complicated by the fact that, particularly sub (b), relevant attestations are quite rare. 37 It is cross-culturally standard for literate speakers of a language to retain older pronunciations for longer. See the examples cited in Goody, J. The Interface between the Written and the Oral. Cambridge (UK), 1987, pp. 268–269. 38 We ignore attestations in which the verb ends in a CVC sign (e. g. ša bēlī iš-pur ‘which my lord wrote about’), as such signs could well have been read CVCV or even, where appropriate, CCV. On such matters in later Babylonian see: Streck, M. P. Keilschrift und Alphabet. Borchers, D.; Kammerzell, F.; Weninger, S. (eds.). Hieroglyphen— Alphabete—Schriftreformen. Studien zu Multiliteralismus, Schriftwechsel und Orthographieneuregelungen (Lingua Aegyptia. Studia Monographica 3). Göttingen, 2001, pp. 77–97.

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Perhaps also kī ma-ad kaspu / ša ina mu¶¶íšunu / aparrasu, taking ma-ad as stative. ‘If the silver which I am to set aside for them is much, …’ (30:10–12).

Perhaps also amāt ša anāku u atti / itta¶āmeš nid-bu-ub ‘(There is) a matter which you and I should discuss together’ (42:6– 7; transl. Cole).

There may even be an example with the subordinative ending missing before a suffix: kaspu ša ad-di-ka / ul attūya ‘The silver which I gave you isn’t mine’ (65:13–14; transl. Cole). The subordinative marker is absent if ad-di-ka represents addikka < addinka. The uncertainty arises because one could emend to ad-di--ka. Thus III-strong subordinatives ending in zero are attested in the Cole archive. Hence, as observed above, the archive provides a terminus ante quem for the onset of the loss of the subordinative marker. But at which point before this terminus ante quem did the onset of the loss occur? There are at least two possible answers, one well known, one new. We shall present them both, though for the purposes of our overall argument the absolute date of the loss of the subordinative marker is not very important. Thus the remainder of this section of the paper (10.3) is something of an excursus. GAG § 83g understands the subordinative marker to have been lost through the erosion of final short vowels,39 so that it is phonologically equivalent to, and contemporaneous with, the erosion of case marking (which occurred in the late second/early first millennium).40 39

§ 83g: “Der Abfall der kurzen Auslautvokale (§ 13 c) führt n/spB und nA dazu, dass der Subj. sich oft nicht mehr vom Ind. unterscheidet.” 40 Originally, GAG § 83g mentioned -u-less subordinatives from Old Babylonian Mari, suggesting they may be Canaanisms (i. e. aberrations caused by linguistic interference, rather than witnesses to the history of bona fide Babylonian): “auch aB in Mari begegnen öfter endungslose Subj.-Formen (z. B. ša aqabbī-kum ‘was ich dir sage’ ARM I, 2:4); vielleicht sind diese als Kanaanismen zu erklären.” However, a starred addendum dating to 1995 reads “Der letzte Satz ist zu streichen,

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An alternative view is however possible. Subordinatives unexpectedly written without -u are attested, though rarely, already in the Old Babylonian period.41 Hence one could espouse the view that the decline of the subordinative marker began in that period. It is of course possible, even likely, that -u-less subordinatives were “wrong” or non-standard according to Old Babylonian grammar, but this is true of many linguistic innovations. It constitutes no reason for doubting that -u-less subordinatives could occur, nor for being surprised that they eventually gained ascendancy over subordinatives with -u. If one interprets the (admittedly rare) spellings of subordinatives without -u as indications that the subordinative marker was (rarely, though probably more often in speech than in writing) being dropped already in the Old Babylonian period, then one can adduce an excellent reason over and above phonetic erosion why this might happen: the subordinative marker was highly redundant.42 In most cases, it gave the

weil aqabbêkum (sic!) eine Ventiv-Form ist!” Thus the third edition of GAG offers no examples of -u-less subordinatives for the Old Babylonian period, probably deeming the relevant attestations to be isolated errors. 41 1) See in AbB: XIV, 164:18–20: ezib ŠE-e-em labīrim / ša ina bīti i-ba-aš-ši / mīnu ‘… apart from the old barley that was (available) in the house. What …?’ (Šamaš¶ā´ir) and I, 122:19–24: tīdi atta kīma / ištu ITU 20 KAM / puzur-adad 3 alpī / u ´a¶¶aram / ana nadānim a¢-ru-ud-ma / ´a¶¶arum i¶-ta-li-iq-ma ‘You know yourself that twenty months (Kraus suggests: mistake for ‘days’) ago I sent Puzur-Adad to sell three oxen and some ´a¶¶aru-grain, but the ´a¶¶aru-grain subsequently vanished’ (the contraction ia > ê in ta-ra-aš-še20-em (line 18) need not be Mariote—see GAG § 16k* and cf. uncontracted iq-bi-am in line 14). 2) Examples of u-less subordinatives in Mari and Tell al-Rimah are given by Finet, L’accadien des lettres de Mari, § 91d (ref. courtesy N. J. C. Kouwenberg) and Dalley, S.; Walker, C. B. F.; Hawkins, J. D. The Old Babylonian Tablets from Tell Al Rimah (London, 1976), p. 217 ad line 8. Note: Pace Kraus, a subordinative is not expected in the phrase ištu šamaš iz-za-a-az lū turrat ‘It (the gate) should be closed from “The sun is standing” onwards,’ so the phrase is not relevant here: ištu functions as a preposition, and the phrase šamaš izzaz ‘the sun stands’ as a noun. See Wilcke, C. A Riding Tooth: Metaphor, Metonymy and Synechdoche, Quick and Frozen in Everyday Language. Mindlin, M.; Geller, M. J.; Wansbrough, J. E. (eds.). Figurative Language in the Ancient Near East. London, 1987, p. 91 (ref. courtesy N. J. C. Kouwenberg). 42 It should be stressed that redundancy is not per se sufficient to justify the supposition that the subordinative marker was dropped, for languages tend to be full of redundancies. On the other hand, from time to time redundancy does lead to abandon of the relevant element (as in French ne, rendered redundant and ousted in colloquial language by its former comrade pas), so if one has independent evi-

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hearer no useful information, i. e. most utterances would be perfectly understandable if it were omitted. Furthermore, there were many cases where it was excluded by other morphemes (ventive, plural, and feminine singular markers, etc.); and šumma clauses, though functionally subordinate,43 dispensed with it altogether. Thus the language was quite capable of getting on without it, and this made it a prime candidate for abandon. The view that the loss of the subordinative marker began already in the Old Babylonian period would lead to a new explanation of forms like wašbatu ‘(that …) she sits’ (for expected wašbat), in which the subordinative marker unexpected co-occurs with the feminine stative ending -at. Such forms, which are at odds with ‘good’ Babylonian grammar, occur— though rarely—already in Old Babylonian, and more frequently in Middle Babylonian (GAG § 83a). Scholars who follow GAG’s view that the subordinative ending was lost contemporaneously with the erosion of case markers (late second/early first millennium) view forms like wašbatu as evidence that the subordinative marker was live and productive enough to expand analogically into forms where it was historically absent. Conversely, if one believes that the decline of subordinative marker began already in Old Babylonian, one could argue as follows: the more the subordinative marker was dropped from the vernacular language, the less sure speakers were of how to use it, and so the more likely they were to produce hypercorrect forms like wašbatu. In Old Babylonian it was (as reflected in the very small number of attestations of -u-less subordinatives) rare for the subordinative marker to be dropped, so speakers were still aware of how to use it “correctly,” and produced correspondingly few “wrong” forms like wašbatu; whereas the higher incidence of forms like (w)ašbatu in Middle Babylonian may reflect the fact that it was now more common to drop the subordinative marker, so that speakers were less sure of how to use it. Thus, if one believes that u-less subordinatives first appear in the first millennium, then GAG’s view that they arose through phonetic erosion of -u is highly plausible. However, if one takes them seriously, the Old Babylonian attestations of u-less subordinatives call this view into quesdence that the element was lost (in our case, spellings without -u) and it is known that the feature was redundant, then redundancy is a likely cause of the loss. 43 On “functional subordination” see Or 75/4 (2006):347–349. Neo-Assyrian examples are used there, but it is likely that the principle can be extended to other varieties of Akkadian.

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tion, for the erosion of final non-contracted vowels had—as far as is known—not yet begun in Old Babylonian. From a historical-linguistic perspective, the Old Babylonian attestations make perfect sense: since the subordinative marker was all but redundant, it would be understandable for speakers to begin omitting it. On the other hand, the Old Babylonian attestations are very few in number. Until abundant Middle Babylonian evidence becomes available, it is not clear how to interpret them: as isolated oddities, or as indications that the decline of the subordinative marker had begun. In summary, it is possible that -u-less subordinatives did not arise through phonetic erosion of -u in the late second/early first millennium, but rather result from a process of linguistic simplification (elimination of a redundancy) which began in the Old Babylonian period. If this were so, it is probable that for a long time forms with and without the subordinative marker co-existed. We cannot disprove GAG’s view that the loss of the subordinative marker occurred through phonetic erosion, contemporaneously with the loss of case markings. But the alternative view we suggested also fits the evidence, and deserves consideration. 10.4. The history of III-weak plurals As is well known, the plurals of III-strong verbs stably kept their ending -ū from Old Babylonian to Neo-Babylonian (and even beyond, into Late Babylonian). By contrast, the orthography provides indications that plurals of III-weak verbs changed through time. In AbB they were overwhelmingly spelled plene, with a mere 4.1% of plene-less spellings. By the time of the Cole archive, some six-seven centuries later, the proportion of plene-less spellings had risen to 27%. Why the difference? Our hypothesis is that, at some point no later than the Cole archive, vernacular plurals of III-weak verbs (like ibaššû ‘they exist’) began to be modified by analogy with plurals of III-strong verbs (like iparrasū ‘they divide’): the final û-vowel of III-weak plurals lost the phonetic feature which had resulted in plene spelling, and came to be pronounced like -ū at the end of III-strong verbs.44 Thus ibaššû ‘they exist’ came to be pronounced /ibaššū/, etc. For this new pronunciation, no plene spelling was necessary (hence the 27% of plene-less plurals in the Cole archive), but plene spellings continued to

44

Depending on when it happened, the analogy may have been catalysed by phonetic erosion.

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be used, owing to orthographic conservatism. If the analogical change was complete in the vernacular by the time of the Cole archive (so that III-weak plurals were consistently pronounced with final /ū/), then the many plene spellings in the Cole archive (73%) are all traditional (i. e. orthographically conservative) or linguistically archaising. However, if the change was not yet complete (so that older /ibaššû/ and newer /ibaššū/ coexisted at the time of the Cole archive), then certainly some and perhaps even all of the plene spellings reflect phonetic reality. This point cannot be decided at present. For reasons to be explained below, we hypothesise that this analogical change in III-weak plurals occurred after the loss of the III-strong subordinative marker discussed above. 10.5. The history of III-weak subordinatives In AbB, 10.3% of III-weak subordinatives are spelled non-plene. In the Cole archive, the corresponding figure is 2% (i. e. the single attestation a-na-áš-šú, 102:20). Thus the proportion of plene spellings has increased. Prima facie, this would suggest that there has been a change in pronunciation. Curiously, this putative change would involve lengthening rather than shortening of wordfinal vowels. This would contradict the general picture of erosion of wordfinal sounds which characterises the history of Babylonian (loss of mimation in the second millennium, and of short final vowels in the first). However, as noted in § 6, the difference between the two corpora’s rates of plene spelling for III-weak subordinatives is not statistically significant. Hence, though the Cole archive’s percentage of plene spellings is higher than that in AbB, this is not actually evidence of a substantive underlying difference: the two percentages can be understood as fluctuations around a common, core value.45 It follows that there is no evidence of a change in pronunciation. We have argued that in the Old Babylonian period III-weak subordinatives were mostly pronounced with final /û/, but that this was sometimes (probably more often than recorded in writing) reduced to /ū/ or /u/. The absence of a statistically significant difference in the rate of plene spelling between AbB and the Cole archive suggests that the Cole archive witnesses to the same situation, i. e. that the vernacular pronunciation of III-weak subordinatives had not changed significantly since Old Babylonian times. 45

This picture might some day be altered by the discovery of additional sources (esp. more tablets from the Cole archive). On present evidence, however, we have no reason to suppose that there was a substantive difference in the rate of plene spelling of III-weak subordinatives between AbB and the Cole archive.

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This interpretation might induce an objection along the following lines: “If it is true that there was no substantive difference in the pronunciation of III-weak subordinatives in AbB and the Cole archive, then why did III-weak subordinatives not undergo the same analogical change as that which you hypothesised above for III-weak plurals?” In other words: if /ibaššû/pl > /ibaššū/ because of pl. iparrasū why not /ibaššû/sub > /ibaššu/ because of sub. iparrasu? We will suggest two possible reasons for this. The first supposes that the analogical change undergone by III-weak plurals occurred after the loss of the subordinative marker in III-strong verbs. If this were so, it would be understandable for the new vernacular III-strong subordinative iparras to have difficulty influencing the pronunciation of its III-weak equivalent /ibaššû/sub. For whereas with plurals the analogical change was fairly minor (/û/ to /ū/), with subordinatives it would now be much more drastic (/û/, more rarely /ū/ or /u/, to zero). What is more, it would have resulted in forms with final double consonants (*/ibašš/), to which Babylonian was hostile. Secondly, while III-strong plurals all ended in -ū throughout the period considered, with III-strong subordinatives there were III-strong but II-weak forms, which (unlike iparrasu > iparras) probably continued to end in a vowel (e. g. imuttu ‘(that) he will die’).46 If III-strong subordinatives did not have uniform endings (varying between zero and final vowel), this might have impeded their functioning as a source of analogy. One might also ask why, if the pronunciation of III-weak subordinatives had not changed significantly from AbB to the Cole archive, in the 46

III-strong subordinatives in the Cole archive sometimes display the ending -i rather than expected -u, e. g. kī ni-iš-šu-ri for expected kī niššuru ‘when we laid claim to it’ (98:14). In such cases it could be argued that a Ci sign was used for /C/, so that the apparent ending -i is purely graphic, and the real intended ending is zero. While this usage of final vowels is well documented in the Cole archive (e. g. lu-ú-še-bi-li ‘let him send’), it is also true that there is much interchangeability of word-final i and u in Neo-Babylonian. Accordingly, the ending -i for expected subordinative -u could well be bona fide. At 62:15 one meets kaspu ša i-¶a-aš-ši ‘the silver about which he is anxious,’ where i-¶a-aš-ši (for older i¶aššu, from ¶âšu) is at least as likely to represent /i¶ašši/ as /i¶ašš/. It further deserves note that no Cole letter including a III-weak subordinative spelled plene also includes a III-weak subordinative spelled with a final VC sign, though such spellings do occur in the archive, as documented in § 10.3.

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Cole archive they are spelled plene more often than in AbB. In response to this, it should again be stressed that, as revealed by the statistical test, the difference is more apparent than substantive. Nonetheless, it seems that the Cole scribes were somewhat more meticulous than AbB scribes about using plene spellings, even if the pronunciations underlying the two corpora were not very different. What, if anything, this indicates about issues such as linguistic register, linguistic competence, and the status of Babylonian as a vernacular language must await further study.47 10.6. Summary Our hypothesis about the evolution of vernacular Babylonian from the Old Babylonian period to the time of the Cole archive can be summarised schematically as follows. Table 8. The hypothesised evolution of vernacular Babylonian from AbB to the Cole archive Subordinative Plural III-strong III-weak III-strong III-weak Old Babylonian period: /iparrasu/ /ibaššû/ /iparrasū/ /ibaššû/ (rarely also and /ibaššu/ /iparras/?) (or /ibaššū/) Maybe ca. 1000 BCE, maybe earlier (III-strong sub. ending lost): /iparras/, as above as above as above but /imuttu/? Some time later (analogical change in III-weak plurals): as above as above as above /ibaššū/ (and /ibaššû/?) So, as reflected in the Cole archive: /iparras/ /ibaššû/ /iparrasū/ /ibaššū/ (but /imuttu/?) and /ibaššu/ (and /ibaššû/?) (or /ibaššū/)

47

One might ask: if the Cole scribes were so meticulous about spelling the subordinative marker “correctly” in III-weak verbs, why were they less meticulous about spelling it in III-strong verbs? This can be answered in terms of pronunciation: by the time of the Cole archive the III-strong subordinative ending was probably defunct or almost, whereas, even if (as in AbB) it coexisted with the ‘shortened version’, the /û/ in III-weak subordinatives was alive and well. But it is also worth noting that no letter in the Cole archive which includes a III-weak subordinative spelled plene includes a III-strong subordinative spelled with zero ending. Thus the inconsistency does not really exist.

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New textual finds, particularly from the Middle Babylonian period, may of course modify this hypothesis. But at present it seems the most economical and plausible interpretation of the evidence. 11. The sociolinguistic picture: i-ba-aš-šu spellings as witnesses to non-standard forms Of the four corpora of sources considered, two contained many plene-less spellings, two contained virtually none. In the previous section we attempted to make phonological sense of the two that contained many (AbB and the Cole archive). In this section we will attempt to explain why the other two corpora (Old Babylonian literature and the Sargonid correspondence) contain so few plene-less spellings, even though they are contemporary with corpora containing many. The interpretation here proposed for this orthographic discrepancy between contemporary corpora is sociolinguistic: the phonetic reduction/ erosion of contracted vowels sometimes occurred in vernacular speech, but it was regarded as a non-standard feature. Hence its orthographic manifestation (plene-lessness) was acceptable in most letters, but inappropriate to contexts rich in decorum, such as literature and royal letters. Plene-less spellings are, accordingly, rare on literary manuscripts and in royal letters. This is not only true of the Sargonid correspondence. Of the many royal letters in AbB, only two contain plene-less spellings (II, 55 = No. 4 above and IV, 111 = No. 12 above), though it must be admitted that the total number of plurals and subordinatives (however spelled) in them is not large, so a sharp contrast cannot be drawn between royal and non-royal letters of the Old Babylonian period. If the plene-less spellings (and the spoken forms they represent) were regarded as non-standard, and hence consciously excluded from literature and royal letters, it is not difficult to suppose that they were sometimes, if not quite as consistently as in literature and royal letters, deliberately excluded from non-royal letters. This being so, the incidences of plene-less subordinatives which we see in AbB and in the Cole archive are probably lower than the rate at which contracted vowels were phonetically reduced/eroded in vernacular speech. Generally, then, when one meets a plene-less subordinative in Old Babylonian and a plene-less subordinative or plural in Neo-Babylonian, it is of course possible that the plene-lessness is a purely graphic error (lipography), as this is bound to have occurred from time to time; but it is

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also possible, even likely, that a linguistically non-standard form has crept in from the scribe’s vernacular. For example, an Old Babylonian plene-less subordinative occurs in a culinary recipe: YOS XI, 26 i 44–46 (see Bottéro, J. Textes culinaires mésopotamiens. Winona Lake, 1995, p. 72): isrī PIsurram ¶epuwātim ša diqāri / akal se20(ÔI)-pí ša! (text: ta)48 ina tinūrim i-né-pu / ina mu¶¶i i´´ūrī tasappa¶ ‘Sprinkle crushed isrus (and) PIsurru from the pot and sēpu-bread which was baked in an oven onto the birds.’

The tablet contains many odd sign forms and possible misspellings, but very few lipographies. Thus the form i-né-pu cannot simply be dismissed as erroneous (lipographic) on the grounds that the scribe made many errors: he did, but they were not of this type. Accordingly, we suppose the form to the bona fide. Perhaps a non-standard form was deemed acceptable in a culinary recipe, this apparently being a utilitarian document void of literary ambitions.49 In itself, that different linguistic registers should be employed in different textual typologies is not surprising, and observations to this effect have been made previously, e. g. by I. J. Gelb: “The difference between the literary and the everyday speech is apparent … in ancient Babylonian. Not only are the historical, religious and epic compositions written in a more archaic language than the letters, but we can even observe similar archaic tendencies in the language of the formal, royal letters as compared with that of private letters written in the vernacular.”50 Indeed, many differ48

Instead of akal se20-bi ša!, Bottéro reads nindase20-bé-ta and translates: ‘La fressure et les gésiers découpés de (= qui étaient en) la marmite, (ainsi que) les painssebetu avaient cuit au fourneau, tu (les) parsèmes par-dessus les oiseaux.’ Bottéro explains his reading nindase20-bé-ta in a note to a line earlier on the same tablet (I, 21): “Il existait une sorte de ‘pain’ appelé ninda/akal sepi (CAD S 227a), que l’on retrouverait ici, féminisé, au singulier collectif ou au pluriel en graphie défective (epšâ, son epithète—lecture douteuse!—est au pluriel), écrit avec ce curieux SE20 (´i) déjà rencontré (12b–13) …” However, once one follows Bottéro in reading ÔI as se20 and supposing a connection with Neo-Assyrian akal sepe, it seems unnecessary to posit a feminine form *sebetu. Retaining the masculine form absolves the scribe of lipography (), and on a tablet with so many mistaken sign forms the emendation ta > ša is painless. Line I, 21, which Bottéro reads ninda se20-bé-ta! (text: ša), remains obscure, but it is likely that here too ša should be separated from preceding akal se20-bé. 49 It would be interesting to extend the present investigation to Old Babylonian administrative documents. 50 Gelb, I. J. A Study of Writing (2nd rev. ed.). Chicago, 1963, p. 223.

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ences between e. g. letters and literature are obvious (vocabulary, word order, assimilated vs. unassimilated forms). Nonetheless, the differences go beyond the obvious. Detailed analysis can refine our understanding of how speakers of Babylonian viewed different grammatical forms, and of the linguistic choices they made in different contexts. In the following section we will offer a taste of the sort of complexities which future research might uncover. 12. Contractions involving other morphemes Our arguments so far have sought to establish two principles: 1) the phonetic feature which distinguished contracted vowels from non-contracted vowels, resulting in plene spelling for the former, could be lost; 2) when said phonetic feature was lost, as reflected in plene-less spellings, the resulting pronunciation was regarded as non-standard. These principles were distilled from the spelling of contractions involving only two morphemes, both of which are verbal (sub. -u and m. pl. -ū). What about other ones? Without undertaking a full statistical investigation, we will briefly comment on the status constructus of III-weak nouns, as this makes for an interesting contrast with the patterns uncovered so far. As is well known, singular status constructus forms typically dispense with case markers. For nouns with III-strong stems (cf. fn. 33), this means that the stem is followed by zero or, where necessary, by a helping vowel: bītu ‘house’ > bīt, pirištu ‘secret’ > pirišti (phps. pronounced /pirišt3/, GAG § 64h). For nouns with III-weak stems, the stem may be followed by zero, or a trace of the original weakness may survive: būšu ‘property’ > būš or būši. Occasionally, however, case markers are retained in the status constructus. In several Old Babylonian royal inscriptions this happens with the participle from the III-weak root šm’ ‘to hear/to heed’ (cf. GAG § 64i*). Interestingly, though the nominative marker has contracted with the weakness (producing šēmû ‘(the) one who heeds’), the resulting contracted vowel û is several times spelled non-plene: še-mu dUTU ‘(the) one who heeds Šamaš’ (RIME 4, p. 335:32, Hammurapi) [še]-mu dEN-LÍL ‘(the) one who heeds Enlil’ (RIME 4, p. 355:10, Hammurapi) še-mu DINGIR.GAL.GAL ‘(the) one who heeds the great gods’ (RIME 4, p. 387:82, Samsuiluna)

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It is hard to believe that these are all lipographies, as it would be extraordinary to find such a high concentration of lipographies in a particular form of a particular word. Rather, we interpret these spellings as indications that, as with subordinatives and perhaps also with plurals, the contracted u-vowel was reduced in pronunciation, losing whatever feature would otherwise have induced the plene spelling. That word-final phonetic erosion should occur in a status constructus form is no surprise: it is why status constructus forms lost their case markers in the first place. Thus we have observed the same phonetic process (reduction of /û/ to—probably—/u/) to occur in Old Babylonian with both subordinatives and with šēmû ‘one who hears/heeds.’ However, the sociolinguistic status of the resulting forms was different: we have seen that reduced/eroded subordinatives were avoided in royal inscriptions and literary works, and suggested this is because they were regarded as non-standard. By contrast, royal inscriptions were happy to employ the reduced/eroded form of šēmû: this was apparently not regarded as non-standard. It emerges that a single phonetic change (reduction of /û/ to—probably—/u/) was viewed differently by speakers of Old Babylonian when it occurred in subordinatives (perhaps also plurals) on the one hand, and construct forms of III-weak participles on the other: the former was viewed as non-standard, the latter was not. 13. Conclusions This article has aimed to show that plene-less spellings of “subordinatives” and “plurals” (as defined at the outset)51 should be taken seriously. In this we have vindicated F. Delitzsch (cf. fn. 4) over more recent scholars. Plene-less spellings are never in the majority in the corpora which we examined, but they can reach numerically impressive heights (10.3% for subordinatives in AbB; 27% for plurals in the Cole archive). Their distribution within and across corpora both helps us reconstruct Babylonian phonology and reveals something of linguistic choices by Babylonian speakers.

51

I. e. III-weak verbal forms ending in vocalic contractions which involve the subordinative suffix -u or the plural suffix -ū.

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13.1. Phonology We argued that, though the occasional form may of course be lipographic, plene-lessness reflects a phonetic difference vis-à-vis vowels spelled plene. The justification for this view lies in the distribution of plene-less spellings already in AbB (none for tīdû in kīma tīdû; more for other subordinatives than for plurals) and then in the Cole archive (far more for plurals than subordinatives): in sufficiently large corpora, one would expect errors (lipographies) to occur with statistically even distribution across different grammatical and lexical categories. Plene-less spellings were understood to show that the final contracted vowel had been reduced/eroded so as to lose the phonetic feature which had distinguished it from non-contracted vowels. It was observed (fn. 26) that erosion of final syllables is cross-linguistically standard, and documented in other contexts in Babylonian itself. Why subordinatives should lose the plene spelling more frequently than plurals in AbB remains uncertain. Two reasons suggested were: phonetic differences between the subordinative and plural morphemes; plurals’ appearing in pausal position more often than subordinatives. It is also uncertain whether plene-less plurals in AbB are bona fide or simply lipographic. As for why plurals lose the plene spelling more often than subordinatives in the Cole archive, we formulated a hypothesis about the phonological development of vernacular Babylonian: we suggested that at some point after it became usual to drop the “III-strong” subordinative marker (which may have happened earlier than is usually supposed), the pronunciation of III-weak plurals was changed by analogy with that of “IIIstrong” (cf. fn. 33) plurals, so that they came to be pronounced like /ibaššū/ rather than /ibaššû/. This hypothesis will have to be tested against future research into spellings of all word-final contracted vowels, and against future textual finds (particularly from the Middle Babylonian period). Be that as it may, AbB and the Cole archive both displayed different patterns for the behaviour of subordinatives and plurals. This shows that research into plene spellings, which promises to do much to enrich our understanding of Babylonian phonology, should be conducted separately for individual morphemes as well as for different textual corpora. 13.2. Sociolinguistics We argued that the distribution of plene-less spellings tells us about how Babylonian speakers viewed the spoken forms which plene-less spellings

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represent. Subordinatives and plurals in which the final vowel was reduced/eroded were regarded as non-standard, hence they and their orthographic manifestation (i. e. plene-lessness) were usually excluded from compositions rich in decorum, such as narrative literature, royal inscriptions, Hammurapi’s stele, and royal correspondence (Sargonid, phps. also Old Babylonian). By contrast, they were acceptable in non-royal letters, in both Old and Neo-Babylonian times. The perception of non-standardness did not attach to all forms in which final contracted vowels were reduced/eroded. As witnessed by plene-less spellings, the same Old Babylonian royal inscriptions which eschew vernacular (phonetically reduced/eroded) subordinatives nonetheless include the phonetically reduced/eroded form /šēmu/ (or /šēmū/?) for the III-weak participle šēmû ‘(the) one who hears’ (status constructus with nominative case marker). Thus it was not only phonology which caused a form to be perceived as non-standard: morphosyntax was a factor too. 13.3. Further research The topic we studied (spellings of word-final contracted vowels) is far from exhausted. Future researchers may attempt more refined temporal differentiation, e. g. distinguishing sub-periods within the rather long “Old Babylonian” period, and introduce geography as a variable (either simply “North” vs. “South,” or site by site). There are also many morphemes which we have not tackled, whose orthographic manifestations need to be compared. More generally, several of the principles argued for in this paper are relevant to many possible linguistic and philological analyses of Babylonian, e. g.: 1) it can be worthwhile to study spellings of individual morphemes separately, rather than assuming they all behave the same way; 2) a given phonetic change could be regarded differently (standard vs. non-standard) by Babylonian speakers in different morphosyntactic contexts; 3) textual corpora which are rich in decorum (e. g. literature, royal letters) are linguistically conservative in at least one way which is not usually recognised; more may be found. 14. Appendix: the data AbB The plene-less spellings were listed in § 2. The plene spellings are as follows. Subordinatives (other than tīdû in the phrase kīma tīdû)

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I. eš-mu-ú (7:19), ta-qá-ab-bu-ú (7:26), tu-´ú-ú (8:8), el-qú-ú (10:18), ka-lu-ú (13:10), na-šu-ú (14:17), i-du-ú (18:10), id-du-ú (18:30), nu-uš-ta-tu-ú (21:17), i-qáab-bu-ú (25:19), iš-mu-ú (27:13), i-tar-ar-ru-ú (27:34), i-ka-al-lu-ú (28:8), ip-te-tu-ú (33:37), i-ba-šu-ú (34:16), t[e]-eš-te-mu-ú (36:10), ik-lu-ú (44:7), te-le-qú-ú (46:23), ` a i -šu-ú (47:5), ib-ba-šu-ú (53:6), ab-ba-šu-ú (53:7), [il-q]ú-ú (54:7), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (81:20), ip-pé-et-tu-ú (82:10), te-re!-¶u!-ú (83:5), tu-še-´ú-ú (83:7), tu-še-´ú-ú (83:16), te-re-¶u-ú (84:6), tu-še-´u-ú (84:8), te-re-¶u-ú (84:17), tu-še-´u-ú (84:20), ar-šu-ú (89:12), i-šu-ú (89:17), il-qú-ú (95:23), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (96:11), iq-[b]u-ú (99:7), il-qú-ú `a (101:11), [n] a -šu-ú (120:12′), ta-qá-bu-ú (124:28), `úa-´ú-ú (134:28), i-ba-aš-šu-[ú] (138:36). II. na-šu-ú (1:24), [i(b)-b]a-aš-šu-ú (4:7), i¶-¶e-ru-[ú] (4rev.:2′), te-e¶-te-ru-ú (5:17), i-qá-ab-bu-`úa (8:14), il-qú-`úa (12:19), iq-[qá-bu]-ú (14:9), `ia-š[u]-`úa (21:7), te-el-qú-ú (26:21), ib-ba-šu-ú (28:12), ib-ba-šu-ú (28:20), ib-šu-ú (28:26), ib-banu-ú (36:7), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (47:11), te-re-¶u-ú (48:10), tu-še-´u-`úa (48:13), te-re-¶[u]` a ú (49:10), ka-lu-ú (83:12), i-du-ú (84:4), na-šu-ú (84:8), na-šu-ú (84:10), te-eš-mu-ú (86:4), ta-qá-ab-bu-ú (86:15), i-še-mu-ú (90:32), tu-u´-´ú-ú (92:13), i-qa-ab-bu-ú (105:12), bé-lu-ú (111:16), i-šu-ú (142rev.:6′), iq-bu-ú (147:4), i-du-ú (151:9), ti-šu-ú (152:21), i-šu-ú (154:7), e-pé-tu-ú (157:12), um-ta-al-lu-ú (158:7), ti-šu-ú (160:6), teeš-te-mu-ú (161:33), ú-´ú-ú (162:25), i-du-ú (179:9). III. ti-eš-mu-`úa[…-m]a (6:5), tu-še-´u-ú (18:7), iq-bu-ú (22:37), eš-mu-ú (30:6), te-eš-mu-ú (38:16), i-bé-er-ru-ú (46:9), i-gu-ú (50:6), ta-qá-bu-ú (52:7), i-du-ú (53:21), [ir]-šu-ú (71:14), i-[š]u-ú (72:8), [t]e-iš-pu-ú (73:13), še-bu-ú (74:25), nu-še-e-´ú-ú (81:8), i-šu-ú (90:8), il-qú-ú (91rev.:12′), ta-ka-lu-ú (94:5′), il-qú-ú (99rev.:3′), nu-ušta-tu-ú (100:7′). IV. i-ba-aš-šu-ú (10:5), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (12:15), id-du-ú (17:9), na-du-ú (17:14), iq-buú (40:22), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (51:27), ra-bu-ú (53:7), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (54:14), i-re-ed-du-ú ` a (55:7), il-le-qú-ú (59:6), il-[le-q] ú -ú (76:6), il-le-qú-ú (77:7), šu-´u-ú (77:37), iq-bu-ú (79:15), il-te-eq-qú-ú (79:29), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (112:7), te-el-te-qú-ú (123:8), il-qú-ú (138:9), i-[b]a-aš-/šu-ú (138:16), ta-qá-ab-bu-ú (138:23), i-qá-ab-bu-ú (139:33), ir-teed-du-ú (140:30), ú-pé-et-tu-ú (160:19′). V. a-ba-aš-šu-ú (53:7′), tu-´ú-ú (80:6′), i-šu-ú (160:9′), ta--bu-ú (176:15′), ti-šu-ú (178:6′), i-re-du-[ú] (187:4′), aq-bu-[ú] (200:20′), iq-bu-ú (264:8′). VI. i-du-ú (15:9), i-re-e-du-ú (31:14), ta-aq-bu-ú (57:26), a-ra-aš-šu-ú (63rev.:14′), il-le-eq-qú-ú (66rev.:7′), te-eš-mu-ú (96:5), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (98:10), iš-mu-ú (122:8), iš-muú (122:11), na-du-ú (125:9), te-eš-mu-ú (135:11), na-šu-ú (143:16), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (148:28), te-le-¶u-ú (153:17), na-šu-ú (158:17), i-du-ú (169:14), ak-lu-ú (172:12), ilqú-ú (173:11), te-el-qú-ú (177:17), ib-ba-aš-šu-ú (179:12), i-ba-aš-šu-`úa (189:18), idu-ú (190:4), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (195:16′), te-¢e4-¶u-ú (199:7), te-el-qú-ú (210:2). VII. i-ba-aš-šu-ú (6:17), iq-bu-ú (18rev.:4′), ne-il-qú-ú (21:16), iq-bu-ú (21:22), tere-¶u-ú (32:9), [tu-še]-´[ú]-`úa (32:12), ib-šu-ú (56:19), i-ba-aš-[š]u-ú (60:11), eš-mu-ú (62:7), tu-´ú-ú (68:4), [e]l-qú-ú (75:6), nu-za-ak-ku-ú (84:9), i-du-ú (88:5), i-du-ú (88:16), [t]e-eš-te-ne-mu-ú (92:22), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (107:6), il-qú-ú (126:18), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (129:16′), il-qú-ú (133:10), na-šu-ú (135:9′), te-el-te-qú-`úa (142:10′), iš-šu-ú (153:2), iš-mu-ú (153:37), te-eš-mu-ú (161:1), te-eš-mu-ú (162:1), te-eš-te-ni-im-mu-ú (163:1), i-šuú (167:14), i-šu-`úa (167:23), ta-qá-ab-bu-ú (171:17), tu-še-lu-ú (187:15). VIII. el-le-qú-ú (12:40), [i]b-ba-aš-šu-[ú] (28:14), te-el-qú-ú (70:18), te-el-qú-ú (70:20), tu-´ú-ú (86:6), ta-qá-bu-ú (103rev.:13′), ta-qa-bu-`úa (110:7), i-ta-´ú(text:

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(130:7′), [i]p-pé-tu-ú (131:5′), [t]a-[t]a-qá-bu-`úa (144:13′), i-gu-`úa (148:6), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (152:42). IX. ir-šu-ú (1:10), ta-qá-ab-bu-ú (1:16), ni-ir-bu-ú (9:8), il-qú-`úa(-)[(šu)] (32:7), tišu-ú (39:20), ti-šu-ú (49:31), ni-iš-te-mu-ú (49:32), ir-šu-ú (50:10), ad-du?-`úa (53:8), išu-ú (63:7), `ia-šu-ú (65:9), i-du-ú (97:9), [t]e-el-qú-ú (105:14), ta-ar-šu-ú (105:17), tadu-ú (150:19), il-qú-ú (150:26), ´a-bu-ú (151:9), ta-na-aš-šu-`úa (155:21), eš-m[u-ú] (160:14), te-eš-mu-ú x (161:15), ta-qá-ab-bu-ú (175:19), te-re-¶u-ú (176:5), tu-še-´ú-ú (176:8), i-ša-at-tu-`úa (194:19), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (196:5), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (196:16), [i]d-du-ú (197:8), a-ša-ru-ú (218:17), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (239:17), ta-aq-bu-ú (242:5), t`a-aaq-bu-ú (246:14), ip-pu-ú (249:14), te-el-qú-ú (269:15), te-il-qú-ú (279:1). ` a X. a¶-du-ú (4:42), il-qú-ú (9:17), `ia-[b] a -aš-šu-ú (16:4), i-šu-ú (16:11), i-du-ú (23:17), te-le-qú-ú (32:31), i[b]-ba-šu-`úa (54:11), i-šu-ú (74:8), i-du-ú (80rev.:4), idu-ú (99rev.:2′), [(t)i]-šu?-ú (101:7), i-šu-ú (116:16), nu-še-e´-´ú-ú (120:17′), i-šu-ú (158:12), i-du-ú (176:20), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (178:29), tu-´ú-ú (190:20), ar-šu-ú (196:29), na-šu-ú (198:18), a-¶a-a¢-¢ú-ú (198:22), il-qú-ú (211:6). XI. i-¶a-ad-du-ú (9:5), [i]-ba-aš-šu-ú (40:7), i-šu-ú (55:20), [t]a-qá-ab-bu-ú (62:2), ta-ra-aš-šu-ú (68rev.:11′), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (78:11), i-qá-ab-bu-ú (79:13), i-du-ú (83:1), nuuš-ta-tu-ú (94:17), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (101:25), `maa-lu-[ú] (103:16), aq-bu-ú (104:4), nuuš-ta-tu-ú (108:11), i-ba-šu-ú (115:8), ú-re-du-ú (116:4′), ta-aq-bu-ú (136:11), ni-it-ta´ú-ú (150:22), i-šu-ú (154:6), i-šu-ú (158:11′), aq-bu-`úa (158:19′), `ia-ba-aš-šu-ú (159:23), ta-qá-bu-ú (186:34), u´-´ú-ú (194:25), ni-qá-ab-bu-ú (194:29). XII. i-še-em-mu-ú (2:24), el-qú-ú (5:27), i-du-ú (9:5), i-lu-`úa (31:15), ib-ba-šu-ú (31rev.:4′), te--qú-ú (52:30), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (53:24), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (54:17), iš-mu-ú ` a (66:7′), ta-aq-bu-ú (68:12), e-le-eq-qú-ú (72:22), eš-mu-ú (76:11), [t] u -uq-te-et-tu-ú (91:11), aš-tu-ú (92rev.:12′), aš-tu-ú (92rev.:15′), aq-bu-ú (102:13), i-šu-ú (102:15), il-qú-ú (102:24), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (113:9), te-iš-te-né-mu-ú (119:5), te-el-q[ú-ú] (149:3′), teel-qú-ú (149:20′), t[a]-q[á]-a[b]-bu-ú (159rev.:3′), `ia-du-ú (172:8′), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (172:13′), ta-aq-bu-ú (172:14′), `ela-qú-ú (190rev.:6′), [il]-qú-ú (195:8). XIII. i-ba-aš-šu-ú (2:10), i-šu-ú (4rev.:16′), ú-ša-ab-šu-ú (5:9), i-du-`úa (6:7), i¢bu-ú (6:29), il-qú-ú (22:24), qá-bu-ú (37:10), i-šu-ú (41:23), ú-´ú-ú (60:29), te-eš-te[m]u-ú (70:8), nu-uš-ta-tu-ú (73:2), i-du-ú (89:12), i-šu-ú (89:21), ip-pu-ú (89:38), išu-ú (89:40), ta-qá-ab-bu-ú [x] x […] (95:7′), [i-t]a-wu-ú (111rev.:2′), te-eš-mu-ú (120:6), i-šu-ú (134:6), ta-qá-ab-bu-ú (145:31), ak-lu-ú (154:13), tu-´ú-ú (175:9), i-šu` a ú (178:7), il-qú-ú x x (181:11). XVI. i-ba-aš-šu-ú (4:8), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (4:25), id-du-ú (5:13), `id-da[u-ú] (5rev.:2′), [i]b-ba-šu-ú (8:6), uq-ta-ta-at-tu-ú (8:14), uq-ta-ta-at-tu-ú (8:16), ak-lu-u (12:6), il-teqú-ú (34rev.:12′), aq-bu-ú (52:14), ib-ba-aš-šu-ú (56:31), ta-am-lu-ú (56:36), i-ib-šu-ú (57:5), i¢-bu-ú (62:8), il-qú-ú (74:18), ta-mu-ú (74:25), i-šu-ú (75:32), te-el-qú-ú (78:13), tu-ša-ar-ru-ú (79:9), te-eš-mu-ú (81:5), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (81:24), i-re-du-ú (86:11), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (90:15), i-du-ú (91:35), ik-lu-ú (94:4), i-du-ú (94:16), i-šu-ú (109:5), ibba-aš-šu-ú (111:55), le-qù-ú (114:22), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (124:18), tu-´u-ú (128:6), i-ba-aš-šuú (131:13), na-šu-ú (140:7), e-el-qú?-ú (140:24), te-el-qú-ú (141:16), il-qú-ú (147:6), aba-aš-šu-ú (154:12), nu-uš-ta-tu-ú (155:12), i-qá-ab-bu-ú (160:17), na-¢ù-ú (168:23), idu-ú (179:14), i-du-ú (179:27), i-[b]a-aš-šu-UM / mamma (180:7–8), iš-mu-ú (189:10), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (192:22), ta-qá!-bu-ú (217:29). BA)-ú

M. Worthington, i-ba-aš-šu-ú vs. i-ba-aš-šu from OB to NB

701

The exceptional subordinative tīdû in the phrase kīma tīdû ti-du-ú x […] (I, 5:12), ti-du-ú (I, 59rev.:19′), ti-du-ú (I, 77:5), ti-du-ú (I, 106:4), ti-du-ú (I, 108:3), ti-du-ú (I, 119:7′), ti-du-ú (I, 141:26), ti-du-ú (I, 142:14), ti-du-ú (II, 88:1), ti-du-ú (II, 94:5), ti-du-ú (II, 96:28), t[i]-du-ú (II, 109:17), ti-du-ú (II, 159:11), ti-du-ú (III, 2:33), ti-du-ú (III, 2:36), ti-du-ú (III, 22:12), ti-du-ú (III, `a 29:5), [t]i-du-ú (III, 43:25), [t]i-du-ú (III, 56:7), ti-du-ú (IV, 73:6), [t] i -du-ú (V, ` a 114:7), ti-du- ú […] (V, 149:5′), ti-du-ú (V, 239:27), ti-du-ú (VI, 91:10), ti-du-ú (VI, 115:8), ti-du-ú (VI, 120:6), ti-du-ú (VI, 152:12), ti-du-`úa (VI, 157:20), ti-du-ú (VI, 174:10), ti-du-ú (VI, 177:28), ti-du-ú (VI, 220:11), ti-d[u]-ú (VII, 77:19), ti-duú (VII, 78:7), ti-du-ú (VII, 94:7), ti-du-ú (VII, 110:8), ti-du-ú (VII, 115:10′), t[i-d]uú (VII, 121:9), ti-du-ú (VII, 137:11′), ti-du-ú (VII, 146:7′), ti-du-ú (VII, 159:3), tidu-ú (VII, 171:3), ti-du-ú (VII, 183:13), ti-du-ú (VIII, 82:6), ti-du-ú (VIII, 148:9), ti-du-ú (IX, 6:5), ti-du-ú (IX, 46:12), ti-du-`úa (IX, 70:7), ti-du-ú (IX, 133:5), ti-du-ú ` a (IX, 174:8), ti-[d] u -ú (IX, 182:4), ti-du-ú (X, 7:8), ti-du-ú (X, 20:19), ti-du-ú (X, 42:6), ti-du-ú (X, 42:30), ti-du-ú (X, 73:24), ti-du-ú (X, 147:7), ti-du-ú (X, 176:19), ti-du-ú (X, 198:6), ti-du-`úa (XI, 16:12), ti-du-ú (XI, 67:10), ti-du-ú (XI, 77:12), tidu-ú (XI, 98:11), ti-du-ú (XI, 104:16), ti-du-ú (XI, 120:1), ti--ú (XI, 151:4), tidu-ú (XII, 67:12), ti-du-ú (XII, 72:11), ti-du-ú (XII, 116:12), ti-du-ú (XII, 124:6), tidu-[ú] (XII, 138:12), ti-du-ú (XII, 171:26), ti-du-ú (XII, 182:11′), ti-du-ú (XII, 198:6), ti-du-ú (XIII, 60:1), ti-du-ú (XIII, 116:8), ti-du-ú (XIII, 149:13), ti-du-ú (XIII, 149:22), ti-du-ú (37:5), ti-du-ú (37:7), ti-du-ú (50:10), ti-du-ú (82:10), ti-du-ú (87:10), ti-du-ú (112:33), ti-du-ú (123:11), ti-du-ú (204:23).

Plurals I. `ia-ip-tu-ú (9:16), eš-mu-ú (11:15), u´-´ú-ú ši [x] (52:37), li-ib-ba-šu-ú (61:13), i-qá-bu-ú (80:21), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (96:8), i-le-eq-qú-ú (105:16), ú-´ú-ú (114:8′), il-te-qú-[ú] (120:4′), ma-¢ú-ú (139rev.:4). II. um-ta-al-lu-ú (3:7), ú-ma-al-lu-ú (3:11), il-qú-ú (3:16), uš-ta-ar-d`ua-ú (4rev.:5′), il-qú-ú (11:10), i-du-ú (11:12), i-ba-aš-šu-`úa (11:13), i[l-qú]-`úa (11:23), il-qú-ú (11:26), i-du-ú (11:28), li-il-qú-ú (28:13), i-šu-ú (40:19), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (56:7), [ip]é-et-tu-ú (65:18), li-še-lu-`úa (66:22), na-šu-ú (84:26), še-mu-ú (88:9), iš-mu-ú (88:15), iq-bu-ú (88:16), li-il-qú-ú (92:23), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (118:8), [i]l-qú-ú (124:11), ušte-´ú-ú (131:12), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (147:9), i-le-¶u-ú (147:10), i-ra-aš-šu-ú (147:25), li-iš-qúú (149:14), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (151:11), ib-ba-šu-ú (157:16), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (159rev.:6′), i-šaás-su-ú (173:12). III. ma-lu-ú (7:24), ir-šu-ú (7:26), ir-šu-ú (7:27), it-ta-´u-ú (22:20), li-iš-qú-ú (28:8), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (34:17), ú-še-´ú-ú (39:27), li-ip-¶[u]-`úa (40:16), i-le-qú-`úa (48:20), id-de-ku-ú (51:18), da-ru-ú (61:10), ib-te-ru-ú (74:21), ib-ru-ú (74:27), i-bé-erru-ú (74:33), ú-ši-´ú-ú (88:18), ba-šu-ú (94:11′), i-ra-aš-šu-ú (94:13′), na-du-ú (97:5), li-iq-bu-ú (99rev.:2′). IV. i-re-ed-du-ú (11:12), i-re-ed-du-ú (11:15), šu-tam-lu-ú (25:6), i-ra-aš-šu-ú (30:14), ma-´ú-ú (39:21), i-lu-ú (65:11), i-lu-[ú] (65:16), na-šu-ú (71:9), it-ta-ab-šu-ú (80:5), ib-šu-ú (80:11), li-ib-ba-šu-ú (80:17), i-ra-aš-šu-ú (111:32), i-šu-[ú] (113:7), iša-ás-sú-ú (117:10), il-qú-ú (122:10), na-šu-ú (131:12), il-te-qú-ú (139:10), il-le-qú-ú (139:15), i-ig-gu-ú (140:17), i-na-ad-du-ú (140:18), ma-´ú-ú (141:6), i-bi-ru-ú (146:19), il-te-qú-ú (150:8), ir-du-ú (156rev.:5′).

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V. iq-ta-bu-ú (28:15′), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (165:10), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (165:11), ú-ra-bu-ú (165:13), ú-ša-ar-ru-ú (218rev.:9′), i-le-qu-ú (232:10), id-du-`úa [x] (275rev.:6). VI. ip-pu-`úa (6:16), i-šu-ú (9:8), i-šu-ú (9:11), i-šu-ú (9:18), i-ba-aš-š[u-ú] (14rev.:2′), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (22:41), i-bé-ru-ú (39:8), [i-be-er-ru]-ú (66rev.:13′), i-šu-ú (70:20), i-ka-lu-ú (81:13), ba-šu-ú (102:7), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (102:10), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (115:9), li-iš-q[ú]-`úa (115:12), li-ša-aš-mu-ú (135rev.:16′), li-´ú-[ú] (152:13), šu-´ú-ú (153:24), il-qú-ú (157:24), il-qú-ú (157:29), `ia-re-ed-du-[ú] (182:8), im-lu-ú (186:11), i-il-lu-ú (190:16), li-lu-ú (190rev.:8′), ma-´ú-ú (210:4). VII. da-ru-ú (9:5), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (9:13), ma-´ú-ú (26:15), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (53:22), ka-lu-ú (58:7), da-ru-ú (81:8), da-ru-ú (84:7), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (103:14), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (104:19), il-qúú (116:28), uš-ta-ad-du-ú (121:19), ú-ša-ad-d[u]-ú (121:22), li-ta-aš-šu-ú (130:7′), ú-¶eep-pu-ú (153:9), na-du-ú (160:11), iš-ta-su-ú (162:5), i-ba-aš-šu-`úa (179:14), i-ta-na-a´´ú-[ú] (182:23). VIII. ú-´ú-ú (12:23), ú-´ú-ú (12:30), n[a]-šu-ú (12:34), iq-bu-ú (19:9′), re-du-ú (46:16), i-¶e-pu-ú (46:17), i-me-sú-u (46:17), li-im-sú-ú (79:27), iq-bu-ú (80:11′), il-qúú (81rev.:2′), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (82:7), na-¢ù?-ú (84:13), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (84:34), wa-´ú-ú (87:10), ib-ba-šu-ú (109:14), il-qú-ú (158rev.:6′). IX. i-ba-aš-šu-ú (2:11), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (59:14), i-re-ed-du-`úa (80:9), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (85:20), i-ra-aš-šu-ú (91:14), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (92:12), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (92:14), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (92:21), i-ra-aš-šu-ú (93:13), na-šu-ú (97:12), il-qú-ú (110:6), le-qú-ú (110:14), il-tene-qú-ú (113:11), li-iš-qú-ú (115:9), na-¢ù-ú (151:17), ´a-bu-ú (151:19), l[i]-ir-šu-ú (156:14), im-lu-ú (177:4), i-du-ú (179:15), i-re-ed-du-ú (194:15), ma-lu-ú (232:7), leel-qú-ú (236:14), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (241:7), bé-ru-ú (246:17). X. it-te-pu-ú (1:24), im-ta-¢ú-ú (15:9), i-¶a-at-tu-ú (15:16), m[i]-i´-´ú-ú (15:18), na-šu-ú (17:16), i-bé-ru-ú (20:18), da-ru-ú (21:4′), [l]i-iš-šu-ú (22:11), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (23:19), i-ra-aš` a šu-ú? (26:17), [k] a -l[u]-ú (32:26), li-pé-et-tu-ú (52:17), li-du-ú (56:33), i-ra-aš-šu-ú (69:8), ir-ta-šu-ú (77:19), i-ba-aš-š[u-ú] (117:3′), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (124:10), i-ta-ar-ru-ú (175:18), i-baaš-šu-ú (177:30), [iš]-ta-ad(text: ID)-du-ú (181:4), id-du-ú- (196:10), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (201:15). XI. bé-ru-ú (27:28), i-le-eq-qú-ú (32:26), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (52:21), [da-ru]-ú (59:7), i-leeq-qú-ú (72:26), i-ra-aš-šu-ú (84:16), ip-pu-ú (86:4), ip-pu-ú (94:11), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (95:29), i-še-em-mu-ú (102rev.:5′), i-gu-ú (106:7′), iš-mu-ú (107:26′), iq-bu-ú (117:9′), `uša-te-lu-ú (123:14), na-du-`úa (127:5′), li-ib-ba-šu-ú (154:17), il-qú-ú (158:22′), il-le-qú-ú (161:5), le-qú-ú (163:12), i-le-qú-ú (172:13), le-el!-qú-ú (172:14), ú-še-lu-ú (186:12), ú-še-lu-ú (186:15). XII. i-ša-ás-su-ú (2:21), ú-x-[x]-x-ú (9:12), il-qú-`úa (9rev.:10), i-pé-tu-ú (51:20), li-il-qú-ú (77:24), `ia-šu-ú (82rev.:7′), iš-mu-ú (115:8), da-`rua-ú (145:6), il-qú-`úa (149:5′), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (178:9), i-ba-šu-ú (180:18). XIII. šu-ur-du-ú (5:10), li-im-lu-ú (5:12), li-im-lu-ú (5rev.:6′), i-šu-ú (6:34), il-teqú-ú (12:10), ú-¢e4-e¶-¶u-ú (16:25), iq-bu-ú (18:18), iq-bu-ú (34:12′), li-ir-šu-ú (37:33), i¶-du-ú (53:11), `ia-ba-šu-ú (58:20), i-ba-šu-ú (58:21), il-qú-ú (59:23), iš-muú (60:15), iq-bu-ú (60:16), uš-ta-ad-du-ú (60:32), iš-mu-ú (60:37), i-du-ú (60:38), i-raaš-šu-ú (71:14), šu-te-em-¢ú-ú (78:3), im-ta-l[u]?-ú? (82:14), ma-´ú-ú (110:24), il-te-qú-ú (144:12′), da-ru-`úa (169:4′). XIV. i-ig-gu-ú (8:18), u¢-¢e4-e¶-¶u-ú (20:10′), ik-ka-lu-ú (32:10), na-du-ú (38:6), na-šu-ú (55:22), it-ru-ú (55:24), ib-ba-šu-ú (59:4), u´-´ú-ú (62:15), i-pé-¶u-ú (74:15), il-qú-ú (75:27), li-iš-šu-ú (85:12), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (92:10), li-qá?-tu-ú (93:27), i-bé-er-ru-ú

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(94:15), li-it-te-eb-bu-ú (94:23), ik-lu-ú (100:8), il-le-qú-ú (113:24), ik-ta-lu-ú (113:27), li-iš-šua-ú (123:22), ik-ka-al-lu-ú (123:23), i-na-ad-du-ú (139:21), i-le-qú-ú (147:16), ib-ba-aš-šu-ú (163:17), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (164:33), i-šu-ú (179:17), li-`´úa-ú (182:12), ušte-lu-ú (206:30), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (209:16).

`

Uncertain ib-ba-šu-ú (I, 9:19), i-ka-lu-ú (I, 44:10), na-šu-ú (I, 64:13), ze-nu-ú (I, 108:13), ippé-et-tu-ú (II, 65:12), in-na-du-ú (II, 84:5), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (II, 152:8), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (II, 179:12), il-qú-`úa (III, 69:7), il-qú-`úa (III, 69:11), na-du-[ú] (III, 74:17), i-[š]u-ú ` a (III, 109:10), [i-b]a-aš-šu-ú (V, 39:5′), ip-pu-ú (V, 130rev.:1′), [i-b] a -aš-šu-ú (V, 133:2′), i-ba-aš-šu-[ú] (V, 157:23′), ú-ši-´u-ú (V, 165rev.:3), le-qú-ú (VII, 33:17), iba-aš-šu-ú (VII, 88:11), i-b[a]-aš-šu-ú (VII, 120:17), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (VII, 170:15), is-suú (VIII, 6:5), i-ta-wu-ú (VIII, 26rev.:3′), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (VIII, 48:7), le-qú-ú (VIII, 81:11), i-b[a-a]š-šu-ú (VIII, 84:56), i-ba-a[š-š]u-ú (VIII, 89:4), i-le-qú-ú (VIII, ` a 94:15), i-ba-aš-`šu-úa (VIII, 137:2′), i-ba-šu-ú (VIII, 156:18), [x-d] u -ú (IX, 40:21), i-qá-ab-bu-ú (IX, 72:11), i-du-ú (IX, 82:25), ir-šu-ú (IX, 118:18), `ia-ba-aš-šu-ú (IX, 145:4), i-re-du-ú (IX, 242:14), i-ra-aš-šu-ú (X, 16rev.:22′), ú-´ú-ú (X, 69:32), našu-ú (X, 168a:28), i-du-ú (X, 196:25), šu-ur-qú-`úa (XI, 72:32), il-qú-ú (XI, 116:15′), i-ba-a[š-šu]-`úa (XI, 156:9), i-šu-ú (XI, 160:27), i-šu-ú (XI, 171:15), it?-ta-du-ú (XI, 193:10), i-ba-aš-š[u]-ú (XII, 84:10), še-mu-ú (XIII, 60:9), [iš]-te-mu-`úa (XIII, 74:19), ú-še-lu-ú (XIII, 124:23′), [u]š-te-´u-ú (141:18), i-ba-aš-šu-ú [x x x] (148:30).

Old Babylonian literature Subordinatives (the sole plene-less spelling appears sub Gilgameš) Atra-hasīs: i-lu-`úa (I 17), i-šu-`úa (I 223), ú-¶[a-ar]-ru-ú (I 292 A), ú-¶a[r]-ru-ú (I 292 E), iš-mu-ú (III ii 50, probably sub.). Gilgameš: [i-b]a-aš-šu-ú (III 17), da-ru-ú (III 160), da-ru-ú (III 188), ta-¶a-du-ú (III 262), ti-du-ú (Sch.2 81), i-ba-aš-šu (Har. 15). Anzû: uš-we-ed-du-ú (N50), [a]b-nu-ú (N53), […-n]u-ú (N57). RIME 4:52 i-na-´ú-ú (268:32), im-ma-aš-šu-ú (336:79), i-šu-ú (378:114; exx. 1, 2, ` a ` 6 , 10a, 11, 12), ib-ba-nu-ú (377:57; ex. 2, 8), ib-ba-nu-ù (377:57; ex. 12), iš-muú (605:30; exx. 1–9), ib-nu-ú (605:35; exx. 1–9), na-bu-ú (672:30), na-bu-ú (674:70; exx. 2, 3, `4a), ib-šu-ú (674:81; exx. 2, 3). Westenholz, Akkade (cited by p. number): [a-t]a-wu-ú (62:7), ú-ša-an-nu-ú (182obv.:8), ú-de-eš-šu-ú (254:11′), ib-ba-šu-ú (276:8′). Hammurapi stele: i-du-ú (Prol. iii 57), id-du-ú (§ 2:51), iq-bu-ú (§ 3:62), ibba-aš-šu-ú (§ 5:20), qá-bu-ú (§ 26:1), i-ra-aš-šu-ú (§ 39:33), id-du-ú (§ 43:11), ibba-aš-šu-ú (§ 46:53), il-qú-ú (§ 47:62), il-qú-ú (§ 49:40), il-qú-ú (§ 51:63), ip-pétu-ú (§ 53:18), in-na-du-ú (§ 62:40), il-qú-ú (§ 72+e:7), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (§ 75+e:8), il-qú-ú (§ 78+f=100:2), il-qú-ú (§ 101:11), na-šu-ú (§ 103:27), il-qú-ú (§ 106:65), il-qú-ú (§ 107:11), il-qú-ú (§ 113:12), il-qú-ú (§ 120:20), úr-ta-ab-bu-ú 52 In RIME 4, some of the spellings are attested on multiple exemplars of the same inscription. In these cases, the numbers of the exemplars bearing the spelling are given.

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(§ 137:5), ir-šu-ú (§ 166:52), ra-bu-ú (§ 202:77), i-du-ú (§ 206:10), i-du-ú (§ 227:52), ú-¢e 4-eb-bu-ú (§ 237:51), ú-¢e 4-eb-bu-ú (§ 240:78), ú-ša-ab-šu-ú (§ 267:85), i-ra-aš-šu-ú (Ep. xlviii 5), i-ba-aš-šu-ú (Ep. xlviii 24), ib-ba-aš-šu-ú (Ep. xlviii 63), i-be-el-lu-ú (Ep. li 67).

Cole archive Subordinatives plene: i-qab-bu-ú (1:29), áš-mu-ú (2:4), taš-mu-ú (3:7), ú-mas-su-ú (5:20), i-ba-áššúa-ú (9:9), tam-nu-ú (12:16), ú-mas-su-ú (13:22), aq-bu-ú (16:30), ka-lu-ú (17:7), aq-bu-ú (17:18), ¶a-du-ú (19:14), [áš]-mu-ú (20:17), `ia-ba-áš-šú-ú (21:7), za-ku-ú (27:25), áš-mu-ú [(x)] (29:5), ´e-bu-ú [(x) a-na] (36:14), ¶a-du-ú (37:22), ¶a-du-ú (38:14), ú-mas-su-ú (39:20), ´e-bu-ú (40:13), ba-šu-ú (40:9), ´e-bu-ú (41:33), [´e]-bu-ú (41:25), ú-mas!-`su-úa (44:20), ú-mas-`sua-ú (45:25), ú-mas-su-ú (46:27), `¶a-dua-ú (47:20), aq-bu-ú (56:11), i-ba-áš-šú-ú (60:8), taš-šú-ú (68rev.:4′), `iš-šúa-ú (77:9), úmas-su-ú (80:27), ¶a-du-ú (83:31), áš-mu-`úa (83:8), ú-mas-su-`úa [(x)] (93:29), ´ebu-ú (96:16), áš-mu-ú (96:10), ú-mas-su-ú (97:34), `ia-ba-áš-šú-ú (97:26), i-ba-áš-šú-ú (97:32), ú-mas-su-ú (98:24), áš-mu-ú (99:4), taq-bu-ú (100:4), `úa-mas-su-ú (103:27), i-du-ú (103:9), `¶aa-du-`úa (110rev.:3′), iš-mu-`úa (110rev.:6′). non-plene: a-na-áš-šú (102:20). `

Plurals plene: i-qab-bu-ú (1:15), im-me-rik-ku-ú (1:27), id-de-ku-ú (5:9), lu-´u-ú (7:24), idu-ú (23:8), [li-i]t-tab-`šú-úa (29:25), i-de-ek-ku-ú (34:8), i-du-ú (43:28), ba-nu-ú (56:17), ba-nu-ú (57:10), i-lu-ú (59:13), ba-nu-ú (60:22), ba-nu-ú (60:25), i-`qabab[u]-ú [(x x)] (82:34), li-id-ku-ú (96:19), i-ba-áš-šú-ú (96:24), i-de-ku-ú (96:27), `liiša-mu-ú (98:23), iš-šu-ú [(x)] (109:21). non-plene: `it-tab-šúa (4:7), i-ba-áš-šú (14:7), ú-ban-`nua (17:37), lu-bé-en-`nua (17:41), iz-nu (53:20), iš-šú (80:25), i-qab-bu (111:14).

Uncertain whether subordinative or plural na-šu-ú (41:13). i-ma¢-¢u (46:27), i-pet-tu (78:10), li-qe¢-¢u (80:26).

SAA X, XVII and XVIII The four plene-less spelling were cited in § 7. The plene spellings are as follows: Subordinative SAA X: áš-mu-ú (109:8′), aq-bu-ú (109:14′), aq-bu-ú (109:18′), a-šem-mu-ú (110rev.:8′), i-qab-bu-ú (111rev.:20), i-te-eb-bu-ú (112:7), it-bu-ú (112:9), im-man-nuú (112:18), i¶-¢u-ú (113:12), iš-mu-ú (116rev.:16e), i-ba-áš-šú-ú (160:35), ´i-bu-ú (161rev.:12′), i¢-¶[u]-ú (163:12), i[š-š]u-ú (163rev.:7′), iš-šu-ú (163rev.:12′), i-ba-áššú-ú (168:14), ú-zak-ku-ú (169rev.:4), e-lu-ú (171:16), iš-šu-ú (171rev.:3), ir-bu-ú (179:19), iq-bu-ú (180rev.:3).

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SAA XVII: áš-mu-ú (10rev.:13), ¶a-du-ú (11rev.:3), `úa-´u-ú (20:16), ba-nu-ú (21rev.:10), it-tab-šú-ú (21rev.:8), ni-du-ú (22rev.:15), áš-mu-ú (22rev.:5), iš-mu-ú (22:21), ¶[a-d]u-ú (24rev.:7′), aq-bu-ú (30:6), iq-bu-ú (43:14), iq-bu-ú (47rev.:8′), ášmu-ú (53:12), iš-mu-ú (54:6), nu-mas-s[u]-ú (67:17). SAA XVIII: nu-še-´u-ú (186rev.:6), ba-nu-ú (181:7), ba-šu-ú (9rev.:6), ta-ad-ku-u (3:2), ¶a-du-ú (185rev.:7), a¶-¢u-ú (94rev.:2), a¶-¢u-ú (181:8), i-¶a¢-¢u-ú (176rev.:11), ¶e-pu-ú (160:5), i-du-šú (198rev.:2), i-du-u (21rev.:8), i-du-ú (181rev.:22), ak-lu-ú (60rev.:8), nim-lu-ú (158:4), ad-du-ú (151:5), id-du-ú (202rev.:14), na-du-ú (160:6), iššu-ú (24:10), iš-šu-ú (56rev.:10), iš-šu-ú (160:8), [i]š-šu-ú (54rev.:20), ap-tu-u (1rev.:2), ap-tu-ú (123:12), ip-tu-ú (85rev.:9), pa-tu-ú (88rev.:13), aq-bu-u (17:6), aq-bu-u (179:3), [a]q-qa-bu-ú (121:4), iq-bu-ú (138:2), i-qab-bu-ú (131:12), i-qab-bu-ú (189rev.:1), i-qa-bu-ú (105rev.:8), taq-bu-ú (72:15), taq-bu-ú (72rev.:6), qa-tu-ú (88rev.:10), [i-ra-á]š-šú-ú (103rev.:15), sa-lu-ú (88rev.:10), ´e-bu-ú (57:16), ú-´al-lu-ú (55e.:15), ú-´al-lu-ú (88rev.:9), ta-šat-tu-ú (177:10), niš-lu-ú (197:12), áš-mu-ú (36rev.:12), áš-mu-ú (83rev.:3), áš-mu-ú (83rev.:6), áš-mu-ú (94:10), áš-mu-ú (115rev.:6), áš-mu-ú (132rev.:7), áš-mu-ú (181rev.:22), áš-mu-ú (192:8), áš-mu-ú (201rev.:9), áš-mu-ú (202:18), [áš]-mu-ú (68:4), á[š-m]u-ú (131rev.:6), il-te-mu-ú (83rev.:7), iš-mu-ú (170:7), iš-mu-ú (170rev.:4), -mu-ú (170rev.:2), [i]š-mu-ú (36rev.:8), ni-iš-mu-u (86rev.:20), ni-iš-mu-ú (88rev.:4), ni-iš-mu-ú (163:19), ni-iš-mu-ú (163:21), ta-šem-mu-ú (149:11), šur-bu-ú (24rev.:8).

Plural SAA X: i-du-ú (109rev.:9), iq-bu-ú (111:13), i-du-ú (111:16), lid-du-ú (111rev.:18), iq-ta-bu-ú (112:30), i-ta-mu-ú (113:3), i-qab-bu-ú (113rev.:10), i-na-áš-šú-ú (160rev.:37), lim-nu-ú (168:6), in-[d]a-nu-ú (168rev.:7), li-iq-bu-ú (178:7), liš-šu-ú (373:12), liš-šu-ú (374rev.:4′). SAA XVII: iq-ta-bu-ú (3rev.:16), [i]b-ru-ú (7:14), ub-te-ru-ú (8rev.:7′), i-de-ek-ku-ú (21rev.:6), ú-še-´u-ú (22:22), i-te-lu-ú (22rev.:24), iš-mu-ú (22:18), [i-q]ab-bu-ú (23:22′), ir-šu-ú (25rev.:4′), liš-šu-ú (26rev.:13), i-d[u]-`úa (27rev.:6), [ú-´al-l]u-`úa (32:13), [¶a]-mu-ú (34:16), qa-tu-ú (34:11), i-du-ú (39rev.:16e), [i-d]u-ú (40:12), i-šat-tu-ú (43rev.:15), i-du-u (46s.:3), i-ba-áš-šú-ú (49rev.:12), [i]g-di-lu-ú (49rev.:16), i-i¶-¢u-ú (52:17), i¶-¢u-ú (53:15), i¶-ta-mu-ú (73:9), i-ba-áš-šú-ú (83:3′), [i]d-du-ú (101rev.:17′), it-te-né-eb-bu-ú (106:12). SAA XVIII: il-te-mu-ú (4:6), ¶a-mu-ú (14rev.:13), liq-bu-u (21:6), liq-bu-ú (54:5), liq-bu-ú (54:18), ú-šá-áš-mu-ú (54rev.:8), iš-mu-ú (57:18), li-iq-bu-ú (60:7), liq-bu-ú (70rev.:4), [i]-qab-bu-ú (70rev.:17), in-da-lu-ú (70rev.:22), i-ba-áš-šú-ú (76:4), it-tašú-ú (76:5), ip-te-tú-ú (79:9), it-te-bu-ú (80:9), i¶-¢u-ú (83:6), liq-bu-ú (85:6), ik-te-lu-ú (85:12), iš-šu-ú (86rev.:7), ú-šá-an-nu-ú (89rev.:5), liq-bu-ú (94:7), ¶u-u¢-¢u-ú (94rev.:5), i¶-¢u-ú (94rev.:7), ip-tu-ú (100rev.:6), iš-mu-ú (100:5), na-šu-ú (103rev.:2), i-du-ú (113rev.:13), it-ta-šu-ú (115rev.:5), liš-mu-u (121:2), it-bu-ú (146:11), it-bu-ú (148:11), it-bu-ú (148rev.:3), it-bu-ú (149rev.:5), i-na-áš-šu-ú (157:6), i-du-ú (158:12), iq-bu-ú (158:6), [i]-qab-bu-ú (164rev.:14), liš-mu-ú (170rev.:11), i-bé-ru-ú (175rev.:13), i¶-¢u-ú (181rev.:10), iš-šu-ú (181rev.:2), liq-bu-ú (182:8), iq-bu-ú (183:6), id-de-ku-ú (199:9), liq-bu-ú (202:8), iq-bu-ú (204e.:29), lima-al-lu-ú (200:13).

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Uncertain whether subordinative or plural SAA X: [ú]-ma-al-lu-ú (109:5′), qa-bu-ú (112rev.:23), i-ba-`áš-šú-úa (112:37e), ira-áš-šu-ú (118:3′), i-ba-áš-šu-ú (160:7). SAA XVIII: i-du-ú (199rev.:5), u´-´u-ú (199rev.:3), ka-lu-ú (193rev.:8), ba-šu-ú (187:16), iq-bu-ú (186rev.:2), i-nam-du-ú (173rev.:4), [i-qa]b-bu-ú (171rev.:4), iš-mu-ú (142rev.:11), qa-bu-ú (142rev.:9), ¶e-pu-ú (142rev.:3), iq-bu-ú (123rev.:12), iq-bu-ú (123rev.:12), i-qab-bu-ú (116:8), ¶e-p[u]-ú (114:3), iš-šú-ú (110:4), ú-¶a-ap-pu-ú (91:5), tak-lu-ú (7rev.:4), it-te-[bu]-ú (9:6), ú-šel-lu-ú (15rev.:4), i-qab-bu-ú (38:2), ´e-bu-ú (54:14), ik-lu-ú (88:7).

Morphosyntax and Text Structure in Akkadian

Conditional Structures in the Old Babylonian Omens* Eran Cohen The Hebrew University, Jerusalem

1. Preliminaria This paper is a part of a monographic study in an advanced state of preparation describing all conditional structures in various genres written in Old Babylonian (henceforth OB). The aims of this study are to show that the syntactic nature of conditional structures is remarkably different across genres, and provide a syntactic description for the conditional structures in each of them. Conditionals in OB are often discussed, but always as secondary to another central issue: tense (Maloney 1981; Leong 1994; Streck 1999; Metzler 2002; Loesov 2004), modality (Krebernik–Streck 2001; Cohen 2005, chapters 5 and 6; 2008 § 2.5.1), or the entire grammar (GAG §§ 160–162; Buccellati 1996 § 86.2; Huehnergard 2005a § 17.3). Since comprehensive descriptions of conditional systems are a relative rarity in the field of Semitics and in general (special descriptions are found only for Arabic, Peled 1992, and for Hebrew, Bar 2003), such a description for OB is definitely called for. This monographic study examines each potential conditional structure in three genres: letters, legal codes and omens (the OB literary language has very few such structures). All potentially conditional structures, that is, different strategies suspected as conditional in the letter corpus, are analyzed syntactically, from both the syntagmatic axis (the horizontal dimension, that is, compatibility with other constitutents, various contexts, etc.) and the paradigmatic axis (the vertical dimension, i. e., interchangeability with other entities). The resulting statement is a comprehensive description of the conditional system in this corpus, the first one based on all of the occurrences of conditional structures in the letter corpus (represented by the AbB series). Some potential conditional structures do not have a consistent condi* I would like to thank my two colleagues, Eitan Grossman and Avi Winitzer, for their constructive remarks.

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tional value, and are consequently concluded not to be conditional patterns. A special effort is made to identify and define the syntactic (rather than semantic) relationships between the two parts of these patterns. In addition, the categories found as a result of the examination of opposition between the forms at work are stated for both protasis and apodosis of the conditional pattern. The same examination is carried out for the legal codes: different potentially conditional structures are analyzed, described separately, and compared with reference to legal formulation outside this corpus as well. It turns out quite clearly that the conditional structures in these two genres, i. e., letters and laws, are actually quite different linguistic entities despite partial similarity in the inventory of conditional structures. This conclusion rests on the fact that the conditional structures in both genres differ from each other in many linguistically pertinent details. The present paper is the description of the potentially conditional structure found in the omen literature of OB—its syntactic structure, the various categories at work and the syntactic nature of the relation between its protasis and apodosis. 2. Distinctive characteristics of omens Omen compendia constitute an enormous corpus, yet the conditional structure in them is quite uniform. Conditional structures in other genres consist of several strategies while omens consist of one only. Omens, like the laws, have no textual context, that is, the verbal forms are not referential to previous occurrences taking place in reality outside the structure. Like the law collections, they are generic, that is, represent a general, rather than a specific case (which was probably the reason for their compilation). However, the signals for this genericity are weaker in omens than they are in the legal codes. It is as though the abstraction phase, which takes place when formulating a specific case (as found in ex. 35 below) into a case of general validity, took place only partially. 2.1. Markers While conditional structures in the letters and laws have several strategies, here the formulation follows but one pattern. The main difference in structure is the use of logographic signs other than the explicit šumma to introduce the protases: AŠ, BE, DIŠ, MAŠ, as well as others. The protases, although introduced by seemingly different markers, demonstrate the same syntax, e. g., the same proportional distribution of predicative

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forms. In addition, in the rare places where negation is attested in the protasis (e. g., with AŠ, YOS 10, 23:7 and with DIŠ, 56 i 23, ii 15), it is lā, rather than ul. In this kind of OB (i. e., other than in the epic) LĀ IPRUS figures only in šumma protases and in pronominal questions, and the latter are not attested in the omens. Another important point is that two texts (YOS 10, 51 and 52), which are basically identical, differ in that the former has šumma while the latter has BE as introductory particle. For these reasons the difference between the various logographic signs is regarded here as linguistically non-pertinent, and these structures are all regarded as šumma structures (in conformity with Huehnergard 2005b and Winitzer 2006). This relative uniformity will make it possible, eventually, to discuss one specific syntactic link between the protasis and the apodosis in the omens. 2.2. Protasis The protasis in this corpus has several peculiarities, vis-à-vis šumma protases in the other corpora. First, a non-verbal clause (henceforth NVC) is much more common than in the other corpora. These NVCs are special in that they denote either existence or comparison. Existential NVCs (which are rather rare elsewhere) occur either with some kind of a locative support, or with a numeral: [1] šumma ina libbi na[´]raptim padānum ‘If there is a path inside the depression…’ YOS 10, 11 iv 16–17; [2] šumma izbum šinā zibbātušu ‘If an anomaly has two tails (lit. its tails are two)’ YOS 10, 56 ii 10.

The most common existential or locative expression (they are not always easy to tell apart) is the form šakin. As for ibašši, the most common existential elsewhere, it is basically attested in the negative:1 [3] šumma bāb ekallim ina maškanišu lā ibašši-ma ‘If the palace gate is not in its place...’ YOS 10, 23:7.

The comparative NVC does not occur in šumma protases of other corpora: [4] šumma libbum kīma iškī immerim ‘If the heart is like a sheep’s testicles…’ YOS 10, 9:21.

1 As a copular expression it is attested in the affirmative as well: šumma martum ´urīrītum ibašši ‘if the gallbladder is a lizard’ (YOS 10, 31 xiii 42–44); cf. šumma martum appaša kīma ´urīrītim ‘If the gallbladder’s nose is like a lizard’ (ibid. x 4–6).

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The type and distribution of NVCs is markedly different than in other corpora. This has to do, naturally, with the stative nature of the omen protases. Another very common phenomenon is topical extraposition (Huehnergard 2005a § 22.3). This is the regular case when it is a šumma izbum omen, where izbum is the topic, but this phenomenon is common in other cases too: [5] šumma martum mû[š]a ana kīdim ¶a[l]´ū ‘If (as regards the) gall-bladder, its liquids are squeezed out...’ YOS 10, 31 x 24–36.

On the other hand, focus phenomena in the protasis are much less common: [6] šumma bāb(ū) ekallim šinā-ma ritkubū ‘If two palace gates lie on top of each other..’ (or: ‘if there are two (and) they lie...’) YOS 10, 24:2.

Despite the tendency towards an impersonal, or generic, character of the omens, there is, in the protasis, an occasional reference to 1st and 2nd persons (Jeyes 1989:43): [7] [šumma bāb ekallim] «ta»rīq-ma u šittā ubānātiya ana libbim ubbal ‘[If the palace gate] is empty and I can bring two of my fingers inside...’ YOS 10, 25:13; [8] šumma tallu ikbir-ma ana pilšišu ubānī ušērib/ušerreb ‘If the diaphragm has become thick, but I can/could insert my finger into its perforation’ YOS 10, 42 iii 31–32; [9] šumma bāb ekallim rīq-ma ana libbišu šittā ubānātuka īrubū/irrubū ‘If the palace gate is empty and two of your fingers (could) penetrate its center’ YOS 10, 24:30.

It seems that in this case the 1st and 2nd persons are not remarkably different from just saying ‘two fingers can fit.’ The predicative forms in the omen protasis show a peculiar system. The opposition between them is aspectual, rather than temporal or modal.2 Metzler’s dichotomy of past and present rests on the telicity3 of the lexeme (Metzler 2002:66–67, 161–162), but it does not really seem neces2

OB always has some aspectual oppositions, as found between paris and the other forms (one exception: see the apodosis, § 2.3 below), as well as between TAN and simple formation. However, a purely aspectual system is found only here and in OB epic narrative (Cohen 2006). The other genres show, as always, some minimal aspectual oppositions, and other than that the leading category in the epistolary šumma protases is tense while in the laws it is rather modality (see note 8). 3 A semantic feature which has to do with the distinction between lexemes having an endpoint (telic) and those which do not (atelic).

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sary. The beast omens,4 unlike those concerning extispicy, may answer to a different set of rules: beasts actually do things while exta basically do not. These actions can be perceived and analyzed as events, viz., like the material found in law protases. Otherwise, in extispicy, the diviner analyzes a state, and may have found in this state clues to events which have brought it about. These states are represented as unmarked (PARIS), durative (IPARRAS), or coupled with an inference of the original, unwitnessed event leading to the current state (IPRUS). As to the absolute tense of the forms in the protasis, the two characteristics discussed above, (§ 2), viz., lack of concrete reference to actual events in the context and genericity (which shows some general validity), point out to the logical conclusion that the predicative forms in the protasis are not referential to a specific point of time. All of the protatic predicative forms are referential to one and the same temporal point, whatever it may be. There are no temporal oppositions between them. The most common form in the protasis is PARIS (single or chained), which denotes an unmarked state. Its value being clear, it makes sense to compare it in minimal pairs with the other forms. PARIS

vs. IPARRAS

The following example confronts two cases of the same lexeme: [10]

šumma izbum ina irtīšu petī-ma u daltum … šaknat-[m]a ippette u iddil ‘If the anomaly is open in its chest and there is a door … and it is (being) opened and closed’ YOS 10, 56 ii 1–2.

Both cases have the same diathesis (medial/passive), the difference seems to be between an unmarked, neutral state in peti vs. some kind of durative or dynamic state, which in this case even shows some movement. The interconnection via u (rather than -ma, which denotes a fixed order of the predications) between both IPARRAS forms gives the impression of iterativity, movement back and forth.

4

E. g., šumma immerum pīšu iptenette rigmū; šumma immerum lišāššu uštene´´eam niprū; šumma immerum lišāššu ištanaddad ana šarrim awātum damiqtum imaqqut ‘If the sheep keeps opening its mouth, noises; if the sheep keeps sticking out its tongue, progeny; if the sheep keeps pulling in its tongue, something good will happen to the king’ (YOS 10, 47:6–7).

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vs. IPRUS

[11] [12]

šumma nīrum sa¶er ‘If the “yoke” is turned’ Nougayrol 1950:13, l. 11; šumma martum is¶ur-ma mu¶¶am ša ubānim iltawi ‘If the gall bladder has turned and surrounded the finger’ YOS 10, 31 ii 31–35.

Both sa¶er and is¶ur denote a state. However, is¶ur refers to two points: one, the action itself, which is unwitnessed by the diviner but rather inferred, and the second, the resulting state (see, along similar lines, Metzler 2002:66). That is, IPRUS in this context is very much like a resultative perfect (see Comrie 1976:56–58),5 whereas sa¶er merely denotes a state. TAN formations are usually paired with IPARRAS (for instance, YOS 10, 47:6–7, given in note 4). However, one finds them with IPRUS as well: [13] [14]

šumma martum išissa šīram katim ‘If the gallbladder’s base is covered by flesh’ (or ‘covers flesh’?) YOS 10, 31 iv 25–27; šumma izbum uznāšu īnīšu iktattamā ‘If (as for) the anomaly, its ears have 0been covering its eyes’ YOS 10, 56 ii 23.

The form ik-ta-WtaX-ma is interpreted as Gtn formation of IPRUS, because a Gt formation of IPARRAS does not make sense syntactically (there is a marked object, which is incompatible with reciprocals in OB). PARIS

vs. IPTARAS

[15]

[16]

šumma ina mu[¶]¶i nīri kakkū šinā imittam u šumēlam šaknū ‘If above the yoke two weapons are situated on the right and the left’ YOS 10, 42 iv 21–22; šumma ina rēš i´´ūrim ina imittim sūmum ištu 3 adi 6 ittaškanū ‘If from three to six red spot(s) have been situated at the top of the “bird” ’ YOS 10, 52 i 3–4.

seems to have, in the omen protasis, the same value as IPRUS, viz., it is a resultative perfect. In both examples the lexeme is the same and so is the diathesis, šaknū reflects an unmarked state, ittaškanū a resultative perfect. IPTARAS

IPRUS

vs. IPARRAS

The opposition between these forms is usually central in OB. In the protasis, however, it depends a lot on the lexeme: 5 The form iprus has a similar function in the epistolary corpus in the protasis of šumma conditionals as well as in the protasis of the paratactic conditional pattern. However, in both cases it is always in the negative.

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šumma kakki imittim kīma sikkatim izziz ‘If the weapon on the right has stood up like a peg’ YOS 10, 46 iv 30; šumma naplastum ittaziz ‘If the lobe has stood up’ YOS 10, 17:36; šumma in amūtim 4 naplasātum ištēniš izzazzā ‘If in the liver four lobes (are) stand(ing) together’ YOS 10, 11 i 23–24.

The PARIS formation of izuzzum is rare, and possibly the IPARRAS form is the one used for it (GAG § 107e). The difference between IPARRAS, on the one hand, and IPRUS or IPTARAS on the other, is analogous, at least in principle, to the pairs discussed above. What is quite clear is that there is no temporal opposition between the forms. The lexeme na¢ālum has the same distribution: [20] [21]

šumma maskiltum ša ubān ¶ašîm ¶ur¶udam i¢¢ul ‘If the maskiltum of the finger of the lung has faced the throat’ YOS 10, 36 iv 8–9; šumma kakki imittim ina rēš martim šak[im-ma] martam īmid-ma (or immidma) šumēlam ina¢¢al ‘If the right weapon lies at the head of the gallbladder and leans (lit. has leaned or leaning) on the gallbladder and is facing the left’ YOS 10, 46:1–2.

Metzler 2002:165 mentions that there is a difference in the nature of objects (or adverbial complements?) between the two tense formations: i¢¢ul occurs with various parts of the internal organs, ina¢¢al only with šumēlam ‘left’. But otherwise, Metzler sticks with the original opposition, viz., resultative perfect vs. durative state. The table summarizes the values of predicative forms in the omen protasis: forms paris iprus & iptaras iparras

functions depicting a state representing a state resulting from an inferred action (= resultative perfect) durativity or iterativity

remarks • aspectual oppositions • no events • no temporal oppositions

2.3. Apodosis It is the omen apodosis which presents the most marked differences visà-vis šumma structures in the other corpora. First, unlike the legal apodosis, which is entirely impersonal and thus addressed to anyone, the omen apodosis, although mostly constructed in the 3rd person, occasionally refers to the 1st and 2nd person, either by various personal pronouns or in the verbal form itself: [22]

… [m]āt nakrika tušamqat ‘… you will overthrow the land of your enemy’ YOS 10, 56 iii 23.

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This 2nd person, in many cases, does not seem to have, in this corpus, a specific referent,6 and may well express the same genericity otherwise expressed by 3rd person. What is surprising is that there are some references to 1st person as well, which cannot be linked to a generic case, but rather to the diviner himself (Jeyes 1989:22): [23]

ša lišāniya ina mātim ittanallak ‘My informer will walk throughout the land’ YOS 10, 36 iv 10–11.

The genitive personal pronoun is the most common case, but there are other cases, such as the possessive adjective: [24]

qarrādū yā!ūtun u ša nakrim ištēniš imaqqutū ‘Warriors, mine and the 0enemy’s, will die together’ YOS 10, 42 iv 22–23.

Even rare 1st person verbal forms are attested: [25]

šumma šupat šumēli eliš ekmet nakrī ina šubtišu šallassu ašallal ‘If the left quarter is inverted above, I shall plunder my enemy in its quarter’ OBE 018:1–3 (and similarly šallat ašallalu YOS 10, 36 ii 20).

Such examples, absent in the apodoses of legal codes, make it more difficult to speak of an absolute genericity in the omens. This is further corroborated by a few concrete deictic expressions (Jeyes 1989:44). Some such expressions can arguably be referred to as general,7 some cannot: [26]

āl nakrim ūmam urradam ‘the enemy’s city will come down today’ YOS 10, 36 i 49.

ūmam seems to have a concrete deixis (unless it means ‘in daytime’?). In addition, Jeyes (1989:44) enumerates collective names for the enemy, such as Amurrûm, Šubarûm, etc. Another case referred to ibid. is ullu ‘no’ (OBE 13rev.:16, following the adverb šanîš), which can be a concrete answer to a concrete question. So, unlike the legal apodosis, we cannot say that these apodoses are entirely devoid of signals for hic et nunc: it seems that the omen compendia have not been thoroughly formulated as generic.

6 Generics occur, in various languages, in the 2nd person as well. An OB example is found in i´´ūram bār-ma êšam illakū watmūšu ‘(If you) hunt a bird, where would its chicks go?’ (Gilg. Ishchali 15′) does not mean a specific ‘you’ but rather a general case, ‘if one catches…’ 7 E. g., šamûm ina 3 ūmī izannu[n] ‘rain will fall in three days’ (YOS 39, 10rev.:5), or ūmam šâti-ma nakrum iša¶¶it ‘that very day the enemy will attack’ (YOS 10, 44:44, both examples cited in Jeyes 1989:44).

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The apodosis paradigm contains, as other apodoses, IPARRAS forms (which are the most common) as well as PARIS forms. So far it is very similar to the legal codices. However, in addition to the mentioned forms, IPRUS forms are attested as well: [27]

… tešlīt awīlim ilum išme ‘The god heard the man’s prayer’ YOS 10, 25:20 (other cases in Metzler 2002:213–217).

This phenomenon is not common, but it is not as odd as it is in the legal codes (cf. the unique tuššam-ma idke CH § 11) or in the epistolary conditional structure. Yet, it is rather important, for two reasons: first, because it hints that the apodotic paradigm has temporal oppositions (unlike any other apodoses in OB), and second, because it is very instructive when one is trying to understand the nature of sequence between the omen protasis and apodosis. Unlike the epistolary and legal apodosis, where there are basically modal oppositions,8 the apodosis in the omens possesses temporal oppositions— IPARRAS basically denotes the future, PARIS denoted the present,9 and IPRUS refers to events which already happened (see previous example): [28]

šumma izbum šinnāšu wa´â šarrum ūm[ūšu] gamrū ina kussîšu šanûm uššab ‘If an anomaly’s teeth are out, the king’s days are over, another one will sit on his throne’ YOS 10, 56 i 34–35.

There are occasional exceptions, but this example is overall representative. IPRUS forms in the apodosis demand that we reconsider our protatic values. In several places, the protasis is viewed as related temporally (inter alia) to the apodosis, preceding it by one step: the former occurs, and only then the latter. This may be true in many cases, but not in this corpus: the apodosis contains the signifiant which signifies events and states which cover the entire temporal spectrum, and in fact, may have started, or even taken place, before the omen was read. The sequence in the conditional structures in this corpus is different, then. It implies, rather than a sequence consisting of one thing followed by another, one thing and what it means. See further on this issue § 2.3 below.

8

The opposition PARIS vs. IPARRAS in the legal apodosis correspond conclusions vs. corrective measures, or judgement vs. sentence. It could be summarized as temporal (with various problems emerging: what to do with idke in CH § 11), or as modal, which seems better: the conclusions are indicative, the judgement is modal. 9 Nougayrol 1950:33 (cited in Metzler 2002:190).

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Another special characteristic is the common occurrence of a known pattern #object + (explicit) subject + verbal form#, whose function in the epistolary corpus is to mark the subject as focus.10 [29]

nakrum mātam ušamqa[t] ana muškēnim bīssu u unêtiš[u] ekallum iredde ‘… an enemy will ruin the land; as for the muškēnum, the palace will claim possession of his house and his house equipment’ YOS 10, 56 i 19–20.

Note that the first clause has the common order, subject preceding object, whereas in the second one the object precedes, and the subject takes the slot immediately preceding the verbal form. This pattern is a focal pattern in the letters, but in the epic a similar version11 marks contrast, which could be either focal or topical. In ex. 29 it seems plausible that the palace is contrasted with the enemy. It is difficult to determine, based on the limited context at our disposal, which kind of contrast, viz., focal or topical. Since this pattern is quite common, however, it is probably not focal (focus, if too common, loses its emphasis). The same could be said about the following example: [30]

bīšam ša mātim šâti [mā]tum [ša]nītum itabbal ‘Another land will carry off the 0possessions of this land’ YOS 10, 56 i 32–33.

mātum šanītum functions, in this pattern, as a contrastive topic. The solution offered for this pattern in the omen apodosis is challenged by either qāssu or qātka occurring in the same pre-verbal position: [31]

šarrum ālam nakram qāssu ikaššad ‘The king will personally conquer a foreign city’ YOS 10, 31 viii 34–37.

The translation of this qāssu is offered by Huehnergard 2005b:56, taking it as an adverbial phrase (lit. ‘in his own hand’). However, in certain places, we cannot analyze this syntagm as adverbial: [32]

āl pātika ša ibbalkituka qātka ikaššad ‘Your hand will reach (this) border town of yours which rebelled against you’ YOS 10, 44:17.

Note that in this case qātka must be the thematic referent of the 3rd person index in the verbal form, i. e., the subject. In this case, Huehnergard (2005b:135) uses the 2nd person: ‘you will personally’. qātka/qāssu always occurs in this preverbal slot, and, when not adverbial, conforms with the pattern in question. The idea subsumed in ‘personally’ or ‘himself ’ is 10

See Izre’el–Cohen 2004:92–93 (for literary OB), Cohen 2005:34–35; Cohen 2008, § 2.2.1. 11 Note that in epic OB the verbal form can occur anywhere in the clause, so the only criterion is that the object precede the subject.

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usually regarded as focal (him rather than anyone else), and regarding these cases as topical is not very appealing. The overall solution will be the one adopted for the OB epic—the pattern signals either topicality or focality. In our case we can go one step further and specify in which conditions: when qāssu or qātka is in the pre-verbal slot, it is focal. The last distinctive characteristic to be mentioned is the fact that the apodosis can consist, in addition to the forms already discussed, of a substantive in the nominative: [33] [34]

šumma martum ina abullim nadiat nikurtum dannatum ‘If the gall bladder is 0lying in the “city gate”, severe hostility’ YOS 10, 31 xi 43–47; šumma šumēl ubānim pū´am itaddâ tibût erbîm ‘If the left-side of the finger is covered (with) white (spots), locust attack’ YOS 10, 11 iii 25–26.

Unlike the letters, where this phenomenon is not attested, and the legal codes, where it is restricted to technical terminology (e. g., LE § 58, which has napištum ´imdat šarrim as its apodosis), in our case this phenomenon is regular, and not limited to technical terminology. The import of this phenomenon is explored under § 3.3 below. 3. The nature of omen conditional structures Several comparisons are conducted in order to reveal the internal syntactic relationships of the omen structure: 1. with an epistolary omen report; 2. with other semiotic systems; 3. with other paradigms which are similar to the omen apodosis paradigm. 3.1. The epistolary omen report It is very instructive to see how similar material is formulated in a different corpus. Omen reading reports are found inside letters as well. The Mari Archive contains divinatory material, which is extensively treated in the better part of ARM 26/1 (the entire first part thereof, pp. 4–373). The most instructive text for us in this context is a report of reading an omen, and several such reports are attested. Unlike the reports (found, e. g., in Goetze 1957 and Nougayrol 1967) which contain no ‘apodoses’ so to speak, only the technical results of the omen reading itself, the epistolary omen reports often contain the entire thing. The report of these readings in the letters depicts a specific case, an omen reading with a specific purpose in mind (e. g., a´´abāt ālim ‘for capturing the city’, ex. 35 below). The physical results are occasionally reported, often following têrētim ēpuš-ma ‘I read the omen …’, the contents

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are basically reported by PARIS forms, spiced now and then with IPRUS and IPARRAS forms. The meaning of these signals is basically reported by future-denoting IPARRAS as well as by present-denoting PARIS. In a few cases this part is more complex and involves a condition. Specific legal cases found in the letters consist of a report (in form of direct speech) and directive(s) uttered by the king, which are not constructed as conditional structures. A similar case is found in an epistolary report of reading an omen: [35]

têrētim a´´abāt ālim ana 3 ūmī ēpuš–ma 7têrēt[u]ya šalmā 9karšum šumēlam [t]arik [u] tirānū wa´bū 14[t]êrē[t]uya kišdātim īšâ ina kakkim dan[nim] bēlī ālam i´abbat ‘I read the omens for capturing the city for the three days and my omens are good; the left-side belly is dark and the intestines are swollen. My omens include conquest. My lord shall seize the city by strong arms’ ARM 26, 117:5–18.

The report consists of 1. aim of the omen (l. 5–6); 2. results in a nutshell (l. 7–8); 3. physical findings (l. 9–13, corresponding content-wise to the omen protasis); and 4. the prediction (l. 14–18, corresponding to the omen apodosis). Note that the concrete, specific case in the letter is not packaged as a conditional structure. The omen is communicated, by and large, using the same predicative forms, whether found inside a letter or in an omen compendium. The difference between the two is 1. the specificity of the former vs. the relative genericity of the latter, and 2. the packaging. Whereas the report consists of chains of predicative forms in the letter, it has the form of a conditional in the compendium. This structural difference suggests that despite the conditional structure, the value is not conditional (the same information is communicated via a non-conditional chain of forms), and that the conditional structure is merely a form whose function is to signal the relationship between the physical findings and their interpretation. 3.2. Other semiotic systems The semantic relationship between the protasis and the apodosis in the omens is basically described as signifiant–signifié (Winitzer 2006:38–39; Loesov 2004:148, note 139), where “die Protasis die Apodosis bezeichnet” (Metzler 2002:41). The content of the protasis implies the events and states in the apodosis. The omens are a semiotic system, a system of signs. Another such system is language. Both systems consist of signs which are twofold: a signifiant and a signifié. In language the former is the form and the latter its

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content. In the system of omens the signifiant is what is found in the protasis, the physical findings, and the signifié is their interpretation, found in the apodosis. There are many such systems, some more complicated than others. Yet another semiotic system with a similar content is graphology. Graphological signs too consist of a signifiant (the features of handwriting) and a signifié (the personal characteristics of the writer). The linguistic formulation of these signs consists of several possible patterns. The first formulation is conditional, like in the case of our omens: [36] [37] [38]

If the upper loop is way over inflated, then the imagination is very vivid;12 If the lower zone is formed with a straight line downward it shows the writer is independent and confident;13 Now if you have a long, tall, narrow ‘b’, rather all pinched together, you have resentment.14

Unlike the omens, other linguistic expressions are found here as well. One is the temporal formulation: [39] [40]

When the letter ‘b’ is closer to printed formation, the more able the writer is to use imagination and originality;15 When the dot on the ‘i’ is made like a circle it shows an artistic personality.16

Note that there is no difference between both formulations: the same type of information is communicated. However, this variation is not always possible in other cases of conditional clauses. It is in the case of generic cases (Snitzer-Reilly 1986), such as ‘if/when water temperature drops below 32 degrees Fahrenheit, water freezes.’ There is an additional formulation which particularly interests us— the copular clause: [41]

In fact a small handwriting is usually a sign of concentration and focus.17

The copular formulation is even found without the copula, constructed in a similar manner to the OB non-verbal clauses:

12

http://www.suite101.com/article.cfm/handwriting_analysis/90151/2. http://www.ehandwritinganalysis.com/formation.html. 14 http://www.suite101.com/article.cfm/handwriting_analysis/90151. 15 http://www.ehandwritinganalysis.com/formation.html. 16 http://www.ehandwritinganalysis.com/formation.html. 17 http://blog.penelopetrunk.com/2004/10/03/handwriting-analysis-can-helpcareers/. 13

722 [42] [43]

Morphosyntax and Text Structure in Akkadian Long starting strokes from below the baseline—this stroke is a so-called waste of time and energy (Broschk 2004:112); Starting strokes touching the head of capitals—this is a sign of a person under stress (Broschk 2004:114).

This formulation is interesting because, unlike the conditional structure, which may mask various relationships, the copular formulation shows, clear and simple, a THEME—RHEME articulation, that is, a given entity and a new information entity. The rhematic part, after the copula or mdash, basically has a resumptive entity (‘this stroke’ in ex. 42, ‘this’ in ex. 43) whose function is to represent the theme inside the rheme (like a topical construction). In other corpora which are linguistically closer to the OB omens, we find similar formulation of yet another semiotic system—dreams and their interpretations, which are basically constructed in the same manner: [44]

w3hinne min hay!ōr "ōlō¬ šε®a" pārō¬ y3pō¬ mar!ε … šε®a" pārō¬ ha¢¢ō®ō¬ šε®a" šānīm hennā ‘ (dream:) “And, behold, there came up out of the river seven 0well favored kine …” (interpretation:) “The seven good kine are seven 0years” ’ (Gen. 41:2, 26);

[45]

mê nādišu [išq]ianni … ša mê nādišu išqûka ilka mukabbit qaqqadika Lugalbanda ‘ (dream:) “[He let] me [drink] from his waterskin” … (interpretation:) “The one who let you drink from his waterskin is your god, who honors you, Lugalbanda” ’ (Gilg. Harmal 1:9–16).

Note that both examples contain, within the interpretation, a part resuming the data from the dream (‘the seven good cows’ and ‘the one who let you drink’). The meaning of this syntagm is given thereafter. The syntactic relationship between the resumptive part and its meaning is predicative in both cases, as it is in the English examples above (exx. 41–43). The same occurs in diviners’ letters, where the essence of the divination act is given, often at the beginning: têrētuya šalmā ‘my omens are favorable” (e. g., ARM 26, 98:9, and passim in those letters)—again, predicative relationships. 3.3. The omen apodosis paradigm The preceding paragraphs merely examine analogous semantic situations, not the problem itself. It seems, however, that it can be shown, basing on syntactic evidence, that the conditional structure in the OB omens consists of a predicative link between its protasis and apodosis. In the structural analysis method, when two entities interchange in the same slot and in the same syntactic setting, they also have the same

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function. In our case, when a substantive in nominative status and an independent verbal form interchange, it almost seems trivial, as both evidently function as the apodosis of the omen. However, this is not a common occurrence in every šumma structure: it never happens in the epistolary corpus, and found but rarely with legal šumma structures only when it is a technical term (e. g., dīn napištim). This identity in function of substantives and verbal clauses is verifiable from another angle: connectives generally interconnect entities of similar function, even if not strictly the same morphologically. One nice example for this is found in ex. 24 above (qarrādū yā!ūtun u ša nakrim ‘Warriors, mine and the enemy’s’), where a morphological adjective is interconnected with a ša syntagm, which is essentially a syntactic adjective. Similar cases are found in the omens. Winitzer 2006:65–125 convincingly discusses two such connectives; the main one is šanûm šumšu (ibid. 65–110), which is disjunctive, like ū, standing between alternative interpretations: [46]

[47]

šumma bāb ekallim erbet tibût šar ¶ammê šanû šumšu ¶i´bu ana ekallim ul irrub ‘If the ‘palace gates’ are four, uprising of a usurper king; its other interpretation: products will not enter the palace’ YOS 10, 24:11 (Winitzer 2006:82, ex. 2.66); [šumma] ina qabliat naplastim ina imittim šīlum nadi ina a¶iāt awīlim mammān[an] imât šanû šumšu namtalli qablītim ‘[If] in the middle of the ‘view’ in the right a concavity is situated, someone from the man’s dependents will die; its other interpretation: an eclipse of the middle watch’ YOS 10, 17:50 (Winitzer 2006:86, ex. 2.70).

The essence of both examples is given in the table below: ex. 46 ex. 47

1st interpretation šanûm tibût šar ¶ammê ina a¶iāt awīlim mammān[an] imât šumšu

2nd interpretation ¶i´bu ana ekallim ul irrub namtalli qablītim

Note that interpretations, regardless of whether they are a clause or a substantive, occur on either side of the connective šanûm šumšu. The fact that interpretations, whether they are a clause or a substantive, can thus interconnect, proves their syntactic equivalence in the apodosis, and corroborates their common interchange in this slot. Besides the apodosis of omens, there is but one syntactic slot, or function, in OB, where a substantive in nominative status freely interchanges with an independent (i. e., non-subordinate) predicative form, thus showing functional equivalence between them: it is the rheme paradigm following a substantival theme. Compare the following pairs, coming from the letter corpus:

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ex. 48

theme awātum šī...

49

awātum šī

50 51

awīlû šunu awīlû šunu

rheme iqqabiakkum

translation The matter was told to you … takittum The matter is a confirmation. illikūnim These men came. wardū ša nadiat (If) these men are slaves DN of a DN nadītum …

locus AbB 10, 13:19–20 AbB 10, 150:15 AbB 7, 58:14 AbB 1, 115:8

The substantival rhemes in exx. 49 and 51 interchange with the respective verbal clauses in exx. 48 and 50, in a manner similar to the omen apodoses. It is true that the rheme paradigm is wider, i. e., it allows prepositional syntagms, which are not attested here in rheme function.18 Paradigm identity is attested in another related domain in OB—the apodosis paradigm of both the šumma conditional pattern and the paratactic conditional pattern: conditional type protasis (verbal forms) connective ul iprus -ma paratactic iparras (variant ‘→’) paris iprus conditional iptaras particle šumma iparras paris NVC

i

ii

apodosis iparras paris liprus (lā iparras) NVC Q (interrogative)

A comparison conducted between the two most common conditional patterns in the epistolary corpus shows that the structures are markedly different: the distribution of forms in the protasis and the syntactic characteristics of each of the protases are not the same (at least externally). Yet, at the same time, the apodosis paradigm in both patterns looks identical. In other words, two a priori different patterns have a paradigm in common. An identity between two complex signals such as this paradigm can hardly be accidental. Based on that, it is more than reasonable to deduce that the identity of the rheme paradigm and the omen apodosis paradigm (in their most peculiar feature) is not accidental either. 18

Prepositional syntagms are attested, but in functions other than the rheme: ina kakkim tēšûm ‘by weapon—chaos’ (YOS 10, 17:43) or as topic (see presently). This is probably due to the interpretative nature of the omen apodosis, which cannot be represented via a prepositional syntagm. There is possibly one example, mentioned above in § 4.1.3, of ullu ‘no,’ which is hard to judge syntactically (as annam ‘yes’ is), but could be an adverb.

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The striking similarity at the core of the paradigm should be interpreted as follows: the apodosis of omen šumma constructions is a rheme, that is, the new information, predicated on the theme, which is the given, or presupposed information. By default, if the apodosis is the rheme, the protasis is the theme of the construction. One might ask how a šumma syntagm can function as a thematic or topical entity (on this question see Haiman 1978). The answer is found in the following group of examples, all coming from omen apodoses: 52 53 54

topic/theme š[umm]a ana [ma]r´im ana mar´im mar´um

rheme iballu¢

(=‘(as for) the sick, he shall live’) ARM 26, 3:8; OBE 4:5′, 11′; 6:6′ YOS 10, 58:3 YOS 10, 57:27

This happens when the signals in the omen protasis are applied to an alternative entity, which may be presented by all these strategies, in the same syntactic setting: a šumma protasis,19 a prepositional syntagm, and a nominative-status entity. All of them function as topic or theme in their clause (see Winitzer 2006:57–65; Jeyes 1989:45, 48). 4. Concluding remarks The information gathered and discussed so far is summarized in the table: Omen šumma structures: No modality protasis (= theme) apososis (= rheme) exponent value categories exponent value categories iprus/iptaras iprus past resultative pf. aspect tense iparras durativity paris present paris unmarked iparras future state NVC NVC future?

The conditional structure is concluded to represent a predicative link, or a nexus, rather than a conditional. Lack of conditionality can be deduced by the different packaging of the same information when occurring inside a letter. The predicative link is arrived at by an examination, on the one hand, of the various ways in which different languages represent various generalizations from a corresponding semiotic system (the graphological signs), and on the other, by showing that the omen apodosis is 19

šumma functions occasionally as a disjunctive conjunction, like ū. However, this is not the case here, since it is compatible with u (e. g., u šumma, YOS 10, 41:42). Note that this is an indirect corroboration of the true disjunctive nature of šanûm šumšu, which never co-occurs with u.

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similar to the rheme paradigm in any clause in OB in the interchange between verbal and (nominative) non-verbal entities. References Bar 2003 Broschk 2004

Buccellati 1996 Charpin 2005

Cohen 2005 Cohen 2006 Cohen 2008 Comrie 1976 Goetze 1957 Izre’el–Cohen 2004 Haiman 1978 Huehnergard 2005a Huehnergard 2005b Jeyes 1989 Krebernik–Streck 2001

Leichty 1970 Leong 1994 Loesov 2004 Maloney 1981

Bar, T. If: Conditional Sentences in Contemporary Hebrew: Structure, Meaning, and Usage of Tenses. Munich. Broschk, S. Graphology and Personality: A Correlational Analysis. MA Thesis, Rand Afrikaans University (http://etd.rau. ac.za/theses/available/etd-10042004-132105/). Buccellati, G. A Structural Grammar of Babylonian. Wiesbaden. Charpin, D. Le statut des “codes des lois” des souverains babyloniens. Sineux, P. (ed.). Le législateur et la loi dans l’Antiquité: Hommage à François Ruzé. Caen. Pp. 93–108 Cohen, E. The Modal System of Old Babylonian (HSS 56). Winona Lake. Cohen, E. The Tense-Aspect System of the Old Babylonian Epic. ZA 96:31–68. Cohen, E. Syntactic Marginalia in Old Babylonian (a review article). JAOS 126:551–565. Comrie, B. Aspect. Cambridge. Goetze, A. Reports on Acts of Extispicy from Old Babylonian and Kassite Times. JCS 11:89–105. Izre’el, Sh.; Cohen, E. Literary Old Babylonian (Lincom Europa Languages of the World/Materials 81). Munich. Haiman, J. Conditionals are Topics. Language 54:564–89. Huehnergard, J. A Grammar of Akkadian2 (HSS 45). Atlanta. Huehnergard, J. Key to a Grammar of Akkadian2 (HSS 46). Atlanta. Jeyes, U. Old Babylonian Exispicy: Omen Texts in the British Museum. Istanbul. Krebernik, M.; Streck, M. P. šumman lā qabi!āt ana balā¢im … Wärst du nicht zum Leben berufen … Der Irrealis im Altbabylonischen. Bartelmus, R.; N. Nebes, N. (eds.). Sachverhalt und Zeitbezug: Semitistische und alttestamentliche Studien, Adolf Denz zum 65. Geburtstag (JBVO 4). Wiesbaden. Pp. 51–78. Leichty, E. The Omen Series šumma izbu. New York. Leong, T. F. Tense, Mood and Aspect in Old Babylonian PhD. Diss. University of California. Loesov, S. T-Perfect in Old Babylonian: The Debate and a Thesis. B&B 1:83–182. Maloney, J. F. The T-perfect in the Akkadian of Old Babylonian Letters, with a Supplement on Verbal Usage in the Code

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Metzler 2002 Nougayrol 1950 Nougayrol 1967 Peled 1992 Snitzer-Reilly 1986

Streck 1999

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of Hammurapi and the Laws of Ešnunna. PhD. Diss. Harvard University. Metzler, K. A. Tempora in Altbabylonischen Literarischen Texten (AOAT 279). Münster. Nougayrol, J. Textes hépatoscopiques d’époque ancienne conservés au musée du Louvre (III). RA 44:1–40. Nougayrol, J. Rapports paléo-babyloniens d’haruspices. JCS 21:219–235. Peled, Y. Conditional Structures in Classical Arabic. Wiesbaden. Snitzer-Reilly, J. The Acquisition of Temporals and Conditionals. Traugott, E. C. et al. (eds.). On Conditionals. Cambridge. Pp. 309–331. Streck, M. P. Das “Perfekt” iptaras im Altbabylonischen der Hammurapi-Briefe. Nebes, N. (ed.). Tempus und Aspekt in den semitischen Sprachen (JBVO 1). Wiesbaden. Pp. 101–126. Winitzer, A. The Generative Paradigm in Old Babylonian Divination. PhD. Diss. Harvard University.

Oblique Core Arguments in Akkadian* Christian W. Hess Universität Leipzig

1. Introduction The analysis of prepositions in Akkadian has variously been relegated to either the lexica or the grammars. Entries for the preposition ana are exemplary: CAD A2 100–101 contains mostly attestations from lexical lists before referring to the grammars, whereas GAG3 § 114d refers to the dictionaries for most uses beyond the dative. The conjunction of syntax and semantics has led to a situation in which the prepositions have been thoroughly treated by neither. There are, of course, exceptions. W. von Soden’s GAG § 143c notes that certain verbs in the semantic range ‘to wait,’ ‘to help,’ ‘to approach,’ and ‘to pray’ “attain their full sense only through the addition of an adverbial specifier.”1 The set again appears in AHw. 47b s. v. ana E 1e under the basic “local” meaning ‘to, towards…’: “e) (im Wechsel mit dem Akk.) beten zu… ‘warten auf ’ (qu’’û, puqqu), ‘sehen, schauen auf ’ (dagālu, naplusu, qâlu) usw.” Beginning with W. von Soden’s observations, the paper attempts to expand and define von Soden’s semantic group ‘to wait,’ to situate this behavior within the syntactic context of the Semitic languages, and to propose a syntactic explanation for oblique marking of arguments in Akkadian. I begin by presenting a series of Akkadian verbs for which object marking with the preposition ana is attested, discussing * The following is a considerably revised and expanded version of a paper held at the 53rd Rencontre Assyriologique in Moscow—expanded at least to the degree that “beyond the scope of this talk” has become “beyond the scope of this paper.” Thanks are due to those who offered questions or suggestions following the talk. I gratefully acknowledge Michael P. Streck (Universität Leipzig), Michael Waltisberg (Universität Marburg) and Kai Lämmerhirt (Universität Göttingen) for their comments and suggestions on various drafts of this paper. 1 GAG § 143c: “… viele Verben der Bewegung und solche, die das Hervorbringen bestimmter Laute bezeichnen … [gewinnen] erst durch eine adverb. Bestimmung als Ergänzung, die Ziel oder Ausgangspunkt angibt, den vollen Sinn…, wenn diese auch manchmal als dem Sprechenden selbstverständlich fortgelassen wird.”

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semantics as far as they relate to attested syntactic behavior. Most examples come from Old Babylonian and Old Assyrian texts, partly to avoid questions of the preposition as an accusative marker, though older and later texts and lexemes will be cited when relevant. The attestations are mostly culled from the dictionaries, supplemented when possible. I will concentrate on verbs in the G-stem, but include derived stems for which either no G-stem is attested or for which the derivation does not involve an obvious change in transitivity. I also assume the preposition ana, the dative pronouns and (following GAG § 67a) the terminative ending -iš to be functionally equivalent. Needless to say, I can make no claim to completeness, though I do, of course, claim that the uses cited are representative. 2. Constructions with the preposition ana 2.1. Function of ana in this context The use of the preposition ana as quoted from W. von Soden’s AHw. above provides a neat starting point. Akkadian employs the sensory organs in a number of idiomatic phrases involving metaphoric extensions of perception. The most readily known is perhaps the man in the laws of Úammurapi, running to put out a fire: (ša) 57a-na nu-ma-at 58be-el É 59i-in-šu iš-ši-ma (CH § 25) ‘(who) casts his eye on the possessions of the house’s owner…’ In AbB 1, 139rev.:6–8, the addressee is urged not to skimp on the price of slaves, but rather to spend the little extra to make sure the slaves are healthy and free of blemishes: 6… a-na KÙ.BABBAR ma-¢ì-im 7i-in-ka la ta-naši-ma ¶a-¢ì-a-am 8la ta-ša-am … ‘don’t cast your eye on the paltry silver and don’t buy a faulty one …’ The faculty of sight is clearly not at issue in either, but the coveting of possessions or the small sum of money involved. We can continue with the ears. The late OB letter AbB 1, 15 contains the appeal of an anonymous son that his father finally send him the documents proving his ownership of a slave. The father has left on a business trip without having responded and problems have again arisen: 13 i-nu-ma a-na e-re-eb a-bi-ia ka-ta 14uz-na-ia ib-ba-ši-a (AbB 1, 15:13–14) ‘While my ears were set for your, my father’s, return …’ We can compare the wait of the anxious son to a scene in an OB hymn to Ištar of the king Ammīditāna. The goddess Ištar and her spouse (¶ammu in line 36) have taken their place on the dais, while: 39mu-ut-ti-iš-šu-un i-lu-ú na-zu-iz-zu-ú 40 ep-ši-iš pí-šu-nu ba-ši-à-a uz-na-šu-un ‘the gods stand before them, their ears set for their speech to begin.’2 In both the idiomatic phrase uznum 2

Cf. Edzard 2004:513.

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bašûm expresses the wait for or expectation of an event, expressed in the dative or terminative. The attention of the subject is directed at (ana) a particular stimulus. 2.2. List of verbs for which the function is attested 2.2.1. Perception verbs We can thus begin with the co-occurence of ana and perception verbs. Akkadian has several words which belong to the general semantic field of visual perception, the most important of which are: amārum, barûm, ´ubbûm, dagālum, na¢ālum, and palāsum (cf. the overview in Fincke 2000:26–30). The differences among the implications of various English or German translations can be classified according to whether the action is obligatorily volitional or agentive, that is, requires that its subject intentionally perform the implied activity (watch, look), or not (see). The latter is termed perception, the former directed perception.3 Constructions with the preposition ana are attested for the directed perception verbs dagālum, na¢ālum, and palāsum. 2.2.1.1. dagālum The verb dagālum occurs in Old Akkadian and from the Old Assyrian period onwards in the general meaning ‘to look, to look at.’ CAD D 22a s. v. 1a 2′ lists several examples of the verb without object. Thus the eagle asks Etana, clinging to his back while ascending to heaven, to look down to the earth below: du-gul ib-ri ma-a-tu ki-i i-ba-áš-[š]i ‘Look, my friend! What is the land like?’ (Haul 2000:204, ll. 27, 33). The construction with accusative is common. CAD D 21 s. v. 1a 1′ points to OB Gilg. III 274: [a-a ip]-la-a¶ libba(ŠÀ)-ka ia-ti du-ug-la-ni ‘Let your heart [not fe]ar, look at me.’4 The use of the preposition ana (also ana/ina pān and pān) marks a semantic shift to a general meaning ‘to wait for, to attend to.’ CAD D 23a s. v. 2 cites two Old Assyrian letters for the construction:5 7a-na 5 UD-me 3 Cf. Gruber 2008:305: “An Agentive verb is one whose subject refers to an animate object which is thought of as the wilful source or agent of the activity described in the sentence.” The terminological distinction between verbs of perception and directed perception, representing state and activity predicates, respectively, can be found in Van Valin–LaPolla 1997:115. The identification is based on dominant meanings (perception or directed perception) of individual Akkadian verbs, despite considerable semantic overlap among them. 4 For the OA meaning ‘to have a claim on,’ apparently with accusative, see Veenhof 2001:129. 5 See AHw. 149b s. v. G 4. Cf. also the OA letter CCT 3, 35b:23–24: 23a-dí-i Šud En.líl 24UD-ma-am ú-ra-am ni-da-gal-šu-um ‘as to PN, we are expecting him today

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ana KÙ.BABBAR 8a-da-ga-al … (CCT 2, 1:7–8) ‘for five days I have been waiting for the silver.’ 2.2.1.2. na¢ālum J. C. Fincke (2000:28) characterizes the verb as designating the ability to see and expressing “conscious, but unprejudiced and non-evaluative sight.”6 Constructions are attested without an explicit object, with the accusative and with ana. Without object in AbB 1, 142:22–23: 22ki-ma a-na¢a-lu 23lu-pu-uš ‘I would act, as I see fit’;7 in OB Gilg. II 88–89: 88ip-te-eq-ma i-na-a¢-¢al 89ù ip-pa-al-la-as ‘He watched(?), gazing and staring’; or in BWL 42, 73 (= Ludlul II 73): bal-´a-a-ma ul i-na-a¢-¢al i-na-a-a ‘My eyes stare but do not see.’ With accusative in OB Gilg. II 53: a-na-¢al-^ka dEn_-kidu10 ki-ma ilim ta-ba-aš-ši ‘I look at you, Enkidu, you are like a god.’ CAD N2 121b assigns two meanings to the verb according to the construction used: with ana CAD translates ‘to look for support, to wait,’ with the accusative ‘to see, to look.’8 AHw. 767a s. v. 2 includes several of the attestations cited by CAD as an alternative construction to the accusative. Is it possible to narrow the meaning of the dative construction one way or the other? Compare the following passages. Syria 19, 120b:22: ana ¢ēmim ša tašapparam ana¢¢al ‘I will wait(?) for the report you are going to send’; ARM 5, 5:14–15: 14ù a-na-ku a-na ma-an-nim 15a-na-a¢-¢à-a[l] ‘to whom shall I look for support?’ In neither letter does na¢ālu mean perception referring to the faculty of sight, but expectation.9 To these we can add a pasor tomorrow,’ as well as NA a-na ka-a-šá a-da-gal-ka ša be-lí at-ta-a-ni ‘I look to you who are my master (and I weep before you)’ (SAA 13, 158rev.:8′). Additional uses with ina pān cited are cited under CAD D 23a s. v. 2a 3′, confined to NA only. AHw. 149b s. v. 6b ‘gehorchen’ also cites several NA examples with locativeadverbial object. 6 “Ausgehend von der Grundbedeutung von na¢ālu, die vorhandene Sehfähigkeit zu bezeichnen…, handelt es sich bei diesem verbum videndi zunächst um das bewußte, aber unvoreingenommene und wertfreie Sehen.” For a distinction between na¢ālum and amārum in connection with dreams see Zgoll 2006:358. 7 Kraus, AbB 1, S. 109, Anm. zu 142a “Wörtlich: ‘Wie ich sehen werde, will ich (es) machen’.” 8 AHw. 766b s. v. G assigns both constructions to the meaning ‘schauen, hinsehen,’ citing the same passages as CAD. 9 The same can be said of the passage AfO 17, 288:110: a-na ši-id-di É.GAL-lim la-a i¢-¢u-lu ‘(If) they (the officials) have not attended to the palace grounds…’ Von Soden’s it-ta-a¢-la Ištariš, quoted in AHw. 767a s. v. 2a for UMBS 1/1, 2:56 can be supplanted by Lambert’s (1989:327 iii 117) reading it-ta-ad-la-a¶ ¢e4-e-mi. The quoted passage BWL 166, l. 13 is also misleading: [i]´-´ur šá-a-ri ana maš-tak

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sage from the Old Babylonian “Man and his God”: li-i¢-¢ú-ul ak-li-iš-ka lizu-ub li-¶u-ur ù li-i¶-[¶a-ar-mi-i¢] (AOS 67, 192:61). The weeping supplicant has just been extolled to feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty. If we assume the sense of the verb with ana given in ARM 5, 5:15, then only the sorcerer in the previous line “may wait (in vain) for your food, may (instead) melt, flow down and dis[solve].” We might thus conclude that here, too, the preposition ana consistently co-occurs with a semantic shift away from pure perception. Exceptions can be found in two passages in the later epic of Gilg. X 10: sa-bi-tum ana ru-qí ina-^a¢-¢a-al_-šum-^ma_ ‘The ale-wife looked upon him in the distance’; Gilg. XI 2 a-na-a¢-¢a-la-kúm-ma mUD-napišti(ZI) ‘I look upon you, Ūtanapišti.’ An extended sense of the verb seems not to fit either. There seems no way around George’s (2003:869) conclusion “that this verb can be construed with either case.” Despite the lack of clear examples from earlier periods for this usage, it seems reasonable to conclude that the object of na¢ālum can be marked both directly and obliquely in its use as a perception verb, but is consistently oblique in the extended sense ‘to wait.’ 2.2.1.3. palāsum Only rarely is the verb palāsum used in the G-stem; more common is the lexicalized N-stem with active meaning. Both will be treated below. Fincke (2000:29f.) identifies a basic meaning of the verb as “non-volitional sight…, which can however be directed towards a person … or an object,” providing the example of a passage from an incantation: i-na-a-šú pi-ta-ma man-ma ul ip-pal-la-as ‘His eyes are open but he cannot see anyone.’ A survey of the attestations given in CAD P 52a–58b indicates that the non-volitional meaning ‘see’ is rare; the implication of active perception is more common. Indeed, semantic overlap with the verb dagālum is provided by a parallel to the passage from Etana presented above: ib-ri nap-li-is ma-a-tu ki-i mì-n[i] ^ _ i -ba-áš-ši ‘Look, my friend! What is the land like?’ (Haul 2000:198, l. 39). Attestations without explicit marking of the object are difficult to find; several of those implied by the short citations from the dictionaries are certainly misleading. A possible example might be found in OB Gilg. II 87–89: 87a-ka-lam iš-ku-nu ma-¶ar-šu 88ip-te-eq-ma i-na-a¢-¢al 89ù ip-pa-al-la-as ‘They placed bread before him, he watched(?), gazing and staring.’ Though, again, the object might simply be the accusative a-ka-lam from line 87. Accusative marking seems to be rare as well, though we can refer IM i-na-¢a-lu ‘They look to the weather vane for the direction of the wind.’ The direct object of na¢ālu is the accusative i´´ūr šāri.

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to AbB 1, 102:12–14: 12A.ŠÀ ši-ip-ra-tim ma-la i-pu-šu 13ù A.ŠÀ ŠE GIŠ.Ì ša ipu-šu 14i-ta-ap-la-ás-ma “inspect the field, as much as they have prepared, and the sesame field which they have prepared, one after the other (Gtn).” The verb regularly takes the preposition ana, a dative pronoun or the terminative -iš. A common use is the expression of divine care for mankind. For example, in the G-stem in an Old Babylonian hymn to Nanaya (ZA 44, 32:24): pa-al-sà-ši!-im ki dUTU ni-šu nu-ri-iš-ki ‘Mankind looks on your light as on the sun’; or in a letter from the Šemšara archives (Eidem–Læssøe 2001:138, ll. 60–62): 60gi-nu-a-tum-ma i-te-be-a 61i-na ITI an-ni-im [sth. is omitted in translation] ilum(DINGIR) a-na ma-tim 62i-pa-la-às ‘the offerings will arise (and) in this month the god will care for the land.’10 This extended meaning would serve as the basis for those expressions collected by Durand 1988:170 for the D-stem. A passage in the Old Babylonian dialogue between “a man and his god” is again problematic: a-pa-al-la-ás-ku-um-ma da-ri-iš ba-la-¢[a-am] (AOS 67, 192:61). The conjunctive -ma following the verb indicates the presence of another verb at the end of the line, making Lambert’s (1987: 199) translation, ‘Eternal life I will provide for you,’ unlikely. Despite the lack of space following the DA, von Soden’s suggestion (TUAT III/1, 140) to reconstruct … da-ri-iš ba-la-¢[á-am tu-ta] yielding ‘I will look after you, and thus you will ever find life’ seems the most reasonable so far.11 Despite an apparently considerable overlap in meaning among the verbs presented above, each maintains specific nuances lacking in the others. Common to all is a consistent shift away from immediate perception to directed perception or cognition. Parallels for this transfield semantic shift are readily found, for example, in the variation of the Greek εἶδον ‘to see’ and οἶδα ‘to know,’ both from the same root, or in the change in meaning from PIE *k̂leu-, *k̂leu-s- ‘to hear’ to Old English hlystan ‘to listen,’ Swedish lystra ‘to attend to,’ and Danish lystre ‘to obey’ (Evans–Wilkins 2000:551f.). Oblique marking of the object in each case above tends to accompany a semantic extension or derivation of the Akkadian perception verbs listed above.12 Thus contra CAD P 54b s. v. 6a ‘to look, gaze at.’ For writings of the verb with final š, see Rouault 1977:149 and Veenhof, AbB 14, 33, fn. ad No. 36b. The expression is already attested in an Ur III-period inscription of the Elamite Puzurinšušinak, FAOS 7, 333 (= Elam 8 = Puzurinšušinak 7): in 1 MU dMÙŠ.EREN ip-pá-al-śušum ‘in the year, in which Inšušinak looked (favorably) upon him.’ 11 Cf. Foster 2005:150: ‘I will see to it that you have a long life.’ 12 This marking pattern may also serve to explain the occasional use of ana with šemûm ‘to hear’ in, for example, Atr. 86, l. 33 (e ta-aš-mi-a a-na ši-KU-x […]). 10

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2.2.2. Cognition: care and attention Following the shift from perception to directed perception and cognition, we now turn to verbs with a primary meaning of care or attention. It is this use of ana which we find, for example, in idiomatic uses of the verb marā´um, as in AbB 1, 89:19–20: 19šum-ma i-na ki-it-tim 20a-¶i at-ta ù ta-mara-´a ‘If you are truly my brother and are concerned about me…’13 The use of the preposition is attested with two verbs which lexicalize the meaning, na’ādum and puqqum. 2.2.2.1. na’ādum The verb na’ādum is attested from Old Assyrian and Old Babylonian on with the primary meaning ‘to attend to’ something, extending to ‘to be worried’ or ‘to be concerned’ for something. Without object in ARM 10, 142:9–11: 9… a-na pa-ag-ri-ia 10na-´a-ri-im a-¶i ul a-na-ad-di 11m[a]-di-iš n[aa]’-da-a-ku ‘I don’t neglect to watch my body, I am very careful’; AbB 8, 121:15: ma-di-iš i-i-id ‘Be very careful!’. When the object of attention or care is expressed, it seems always to be marked with the dative (CAD N1 2b s. v. 1a 3′): 4′[´]ú-[¶a-r]u-ú ki-ma ša a-na a-wa-ti-[k]a 5′[la i]-na-a¶-¶i-du ‘… that the lads do not pay attention to your affairs …’14 (AbB 8, 19:4′–5′; OB); 30… a-na té-er-tí-a 31i-¶i-id ‘pay attention to my instructions’ (BIN 4, 98:30–31; OA). The accusative seems not to be attested. 2.2.2.2. puqqum Synonymous with na’ādum is the D-stem verb puqqum ‘to heed, to be attentive to, to be concerned.’ Unlike na’ādum, the object of the verb can be marked with the accusative, ana, -iš or dative (CAD P 512 s. v. 1a 2′). Indeed, free variation among the markings is provided by a passage in the CAD Š2 283a s. v. 2c ‘to listen to someone’; AHw. 1212a s. v. G 1f (SAA 18, 87rev.: 19 with ana mu¶¶i). If this is the case, then the explanation of the use of ana as accusative marker with šemû given by von Soden in AHw. 1213a for several NeoBabylonian passages (e. g. ABL 1006:1) may be unnecessary. A similar shift would also underlie the NB/NA use of ina/ana mu¶¶i with amārum ‘to look to, to look after’ (CAD A2 21 s. v. A 5; AHw. 41b s. v. C 2b). 13 Cf. also ARM 26/2, 298:8–9: a-na-ku a-na fBe-[e]l-[t]i-ia 9ú-[u]l [u]š-ta-ma-ra-a´, translated there as ‘mais quant à moi, je ne me fais pas de souci pour ma reine.’ 14 Cf. AHw. 693 s. v. G 2 ‘sich bekümmern, sich sorgen (ana um).’ See also ibid., s. v. Gt 1 for LB ana GN… at-ta-’i-id (VAB 4, 80 i 27; CT 36, 22/3:20). Also: šumma tara’’amanni ana awāt ¢uppim i’id-ma ‘If you love me, pay attention to the words of the tablet’ (TCL 4, 18:48); ana têrti-ia i’id ‘pay attention to my instructions’ (BIN 4, 98:31; OA).

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Theodicy (BWL 76:131) cited by CAD P (514a s. v. 1a 2′): the published text has uptēq ila ‘he heeds the god,’ for which an unpublished manuscript yields uptēq ana ili.15 Despite this, the dative seems to be more common: reference can be made to the personal names Iliš-pīq (TIM 3, 80:18; OB) and Upāq-ana-Marduk (BE 15, 200 iii 40; MB).16 We now turn to a series of verbs indicating neglect or carelessness; they represent lexical antonyms of the two preceding. For each, the construction with ana is normal. In addition to the phrase a¶am nadûm ‘to neglect’ quoted above, we can also point to the use of qâlum ‘to be silent’ (CAD Q 74a s. v. 2b), with the extended meaning ‘to heed,’ but also the implication ‘to be silent (with the implication of doing nothing),’ and ‘to neglect’ “as a feature of the Canaanite EA texts” (Rainey 1996:13). 2.2.2.3. egûm The most common verb in Akkadian meaning ‘to neglect’ is egûm, ‘to be careless, neglectful (of duty)’ (CAD E 48a). Both the constructions with and without an explicit object are common. Without an object in CH § 125: beel É ša i-gu-ma ‘The owner of the house who has been negligent …’; and CH § 267 šum-ma SIPA i-gu-ma ‘If a shepherd has been negligent …’ When the object of neglect or carelessness is stated, then it is marked with the preposition ana, as in AbB 9, 134:17: a-na ki-sí-ku-nu la te-gi-a ‘Do not be careless about your funds’; or AbB 1, 133:25–26: a-na wa-ar-di-im 26na-´ari-im la te9-gu ‘Don’t neglect to guard the slave!’ An accusative is only present as an additional adverbial modifier of the verb, indicating with respect to what the subject has been neglectful, as in the Middle Babylonian personal name Mi-na-a-e-gu-a-na-dŠamaš ‘In what have I neglected Šamaš?’ cited in CAD E 48b s. v. 1a 3′.

See also AHw. 879b s. v. D 1b. Though CAD P lists constructions with ana, ina or dative pronoun, the only example with ina is found in the NA text KAR 58: 30. Cf. also CAD P 513b s. v. 2b (Dtn) ‘to be constantly attentive’ with ana. 16 Despite the recent reservations expressed by Streck (2007:407), George’s (2003:185) interpretation of the verb ip-te-eq-ma in the passage from the Old Babylonian Gilgameš cited above as a G-stem to the verb puqqum still merits consideration. While the stative does occasionally occur with īnum, Fincke (2000:36) has already noted that the root, when referring to the eyes, is used exclusively to express a pathological defect in vision. There should be no need to interpret an implicit īnāšu or similar. 15

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2.2.2.4. mekûm The verb mekûm ‘to be negligent’ is relatively rare in Old Babylonian, confined mostly to tablets from Mari. The verb is commonly attested in Amarna and in Middle Babylonian texts. Fales–Jakob-Rost (1991:99) note the general semantic equivalence with egûm, despite the fact that both verbs occasionally occur side by side. Constructions without an explicit object, with the accusative or with the dative are attested.17 Without object in EA 367:14: … u´-´ur la-a tà-mé-ek-ki ‘be on guard, do not be negligent.’ With accusative in a line from the myth of Adapa (EA 356:33′): ¢e-e-ma ša áš-ku-nu-ka la te-mé-ek-ki ‘do not neglect the order I have given you.’ And with ana (UM 1/2, 30:5–6): ù a-na ša-la-mi-ka la i-mé-ek-ki ‘May (Gula) not neglect your wellbeing.’ 2.2.2.5. šâ¢u The existence of a verb šâ¢u ‘to be negligent’ was already recognized by Delitzsch 1896:646b, who placed it in the semantic field of nâ´um. The root is attested in Amarna Akkadian, Standard Babylonian and Neo-Babylonian (CAD Š2 243a s. v. 1a) with the accusative (SAA 18, 57:20): … a-mat šarri(LUGAL) il-tu-¢u ‘(Nabû-ušallim) has neglected the royal order …’ As well as with ana (PSBA 31, pl. 19:8; NB letter): ana ma´´arti … lā tašu¢¢ā ‘do not neglect your guard duty.’18 There is no discernible difference in meaning for either.19 2.2.2.6. šelû The verb šelû, in the semantic field ‘to be negligent, careless, inattentive’ (CAD Š2 274a) is most likely an Aramaic loanword, attested only in Neo-Babylonian without explicit object, ina (mu¶¶i), and ana (mu¶¶i) (AHw. 1211a). Without an object (BIN 1, 49:15–16): 15… UD-mu u 16GE6 EN la i-šel-li ‘Day and night my lord should not be inattentive.’ With ana (SAA 18, 202:15): a-na a-de-e ul a-šel-lu ‘I will not neglect the treaty.’ An adverbial phrase can also take the place of the object marked by the preposition, as in (BIN 1, 53:23): ina mu¶¶i(UGU) EN la išel-li ‘My lord must not be inattentive about it …’

17 AHw. 643a s. v. 2a mekûm is also constructed once with ana in HSS 9, 28:18 (Nuzi) or with ištu in EA 192:16. 18 AHw. 1205a s. v. G1 again cites both Ash. Nin. A V 3 and the above passage with explicit reference to the use of ana as accusative marker. 19 On the interpretation of several “Canaanite passive” forms assigned to the verb by CAD Š2 243a s. v. 2 and AHw. 1205a s. v. 2, see Rainey 1996 II 175 and Moran 1992:356 ad l. 3.

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2.2.2.7. šuta’’ûm šuta’’ûm, apparently a lexicalized Dt-stem to the root Š’I (Kouwenberg 1997:315) ‘to trifle, to treat lightly’ is well attested from Old Babylonian on, as in AbB 14, 145:26–28: 26ul-[l]a-nu-uk-ka a-na ma-an-nim 27a-ša-ap-pa-ra-am 28 la tu-uš-ta-a ‘To whom but to you should I write? Do not treat (the matter) lightly.’ With accusative in AbB 4, 131:13–14: 13ù É.[G]AL-lum ma-di-iš i-qáal-šu-nu-ši-[im] 14ú-ul šu-ta-¶u-šu-nu-ti!? ‘… and the palace is very attentive to them, they do not neglect them.’ And with ana in AbB 1, 118:12: a-na a-wati-ka ú-ul uš-ta-i ‘I have not treated your affairs lightly’; or AbB 1, 61:12′– 13′: 12′[a-n]a ša aš-pu-ra-am 13′[a]-bi la u[š]-ta-a-am ‘My father should not treat lightly what I have written.’ CAD Š3 399b s. v. c further distinguishes constructions with an impersonal object, consistently marked with the preposition, and a personal object, indicated by a prepositional phrase or by the accusative. Judging from the attestations offered in CAD and AHw. 1291b, the use of the accusative is relatively rare. 2.2.2.8. waqûm and qu’’ûm Problems of orthography and morphology and the possibility that “the two verbs…, with similar ranges of meaning, were confused with each other” (CAD Q 332a) in Akkadian justify treating both together here. The verb qu’’ûm is attested as a D-tantum verb (Kouwenberg 1997:315) meaning ‘to wait, to wait for,’ waqûm most commonly in the Dt-stem with the meaning ‘to wait (on), to attend to,’ with mostly lexical attestations in the G-stem and rare occurrences noted in the D-stem ‘to wait’ (AHw. 1461b s. v.). We can cite examples for both verbs without explicit objects; qu’’ûm D in BIN 4, 32:13–14 (OA): 13um-ma a-na-ku-ma 5 ša-na-at 14ù-lá úqá-a … ‘I said: “I will not wait for five years” …’; waqûm Dt in JCS 15, 8 iv 5: lu-ši-ib lu-te-eq-qí šum-ma ša gir-ri-ia ‘I would sit and wait, if he is on the way to me’; or in TC 2, 2:9–11 (OA): … a-wi-lu KÙ.BABBAR ma-dam e-ri-šu a-ší-a-ti nu-ta-qá ‘… the men are asking for too much silver, and therefore we are waiting …” More commonly, qu’’ûm simply takes the accusative, as in FAOS 7, 233:261–262 (= Narām-Sîn C 1, OAkk.): KAŠŠUDUL u-qá-e ‘he awaited battle’; or in the Old Babylonian letter AbB 1, 36:8–9: 8a-wi-lu-ú ka-ta-a-ma 9 ú-qa-wu-ka … ‘The men await you.’ waqûm seems most often to take the dative or ana: al-kam-ma i nu-wa!-qí!-ku-um (AbB 1, 50:14; D, OB) ‘Come here and let us wait for you’;20 and 14a-na šu-ul-lu-mi-ku-nu 15^lu_-wa-qù-ú 20

Following von Soden’s reading in AHw. 1461b s. v., supported by Figulla’s copy in CT 43, 50.

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‘may (the gods) attend to your well-being’ (OBTI 18, l. 15, following Greengus 1986:20). The construction seems also to be attested in BID 186, l. 46 ([k]a-ša-a-ma LÚ.GIG LUGAL gít-ma-lum ú-qí-ka ‘For you has the sick man waited, o noble king’), assuming the enclitic pronoun -ka represents the same case as dative [k]a-ša-a-ma. Unfortunately, there are exceptions, for example for waqûm Dt in the variants to the Namburbi-text BaF 18, 422:57 (a-na ´i-it pi-ia ú-taq-qá-a DINGIR.MEŠ EN qú-la-a-tim ‘Heed what issues from my mouth, o gods, lords of silence!’), in which two manuscripts omit the preposition at the beginning of the line. The situation is slightly more confused with the Dstem of waqûm. Ignoring the problematic citations from the Cruciform Monument, the remaining citations all refer to a stock-phrase in Assyrian royal inscriptions, first attested in the Tiglath-pileser I’s inscription RIMA II A.0.87.1:70–73: EGIR-a ul ú-qi, translated according to Borger (1956: 44, fn. ad 64) as ‘… and I did not attend to the rear guard …’21 The phrase is again found, without object, in an Esarhaddon inscription (Borger 1956:43, l. 63–64): 1-en UD-me 2 UD-me ul uq-qí pa-an ERIMÚI.A-ia ul adgul ar-ka-a ul a-mur … ‘I did not wait (even) one or two days, I did not attend to my troops, did not see to my rear guard.’ If we accept R. Borger’s interpretation and translation, the passages would attest to accusative marking of the object for the verb waqûm. Turning back to qu’’ûm D: if we follow CAD Q 332b and omit the passages VS 16, 15:18 (AbB 6, 15:18) and TC 3, 115:6, for which improved readings have been suggested, and leave also aside the fragmentary Middle Assyrian KAV 217:16, in which the entire prepositional phrase has been reconstructed before the verb, we are left with the Old Assyrian TC 21 AHw. 1461b sticks to the older uq5-qi4! for the passage in the Cruciform Monument, translating, according to etymology and context, ‘to maintain, to provide further,’ which reading was again followed by Al-Rawi–George 1994: 147, fn. 11. The meaning is obscure, depending on an uncertain Old Ethiopic etymology, the phonetic value UQ5, following Borger 2004:275, singular. It still seems that E. Sollberger’s reading u9-kinx was discarded rather too hastily. The required verb in the passage is not only duplicated by the line u-kin in JEOL 20, 57, l. Si v 9, but also certainly paralleled in context by the ú-kin of the Kurigalzu temple endowment edited by A. Ungnad in AfK 1, 19 ii 10 etc. This suggests a reading lu uu9-GI4, with a phonetic gloss to a pseudo-archaizing u9, or lu-u u9-GI4 for the Sippar copy in Al-Rawi–George 1994:142 ii 29. The use of the logogram GI4 would assume a confusion of GI4 and GI/GIN6 = kânum, for which we can refer to several passages listed in CAD K 160a in the lexical section. The mixed writing accords with the “frequent use of cryptograms” in the inscription noted by B. R. Foster in Longman 1991:82, fn. 13.

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3, 263:20 (ú-qá-a-šu-um), BIN 4, 18:21 (a-na ¢up-pì-im tù-qá-a) and KTK 21:20–22 (20… URUDU lá-mu-num 21i-ba-ší a-na SIG5 22tù-qá-a). Assuming that these verbs have been correctly interpreted, and do not simply represent defective writings for present forms of waqûm D (i. e. tuqqā etc.), we are then left with two verbs with similar meanings, of which waqûm regularly takes the dative, only rarely the accusative, qu’’ûm regularly the accusative, rarely the dative. We might thus conclude, following the CAD, that both verbs influenced each other not only semantically but also syntactically. 2.2.3. Cognition: trust and fear The verbs above are confined to a rather narrow set indicating attention or wait together with their lexical opposites. Proceeding from these, the final set of verbs under consideration includes those expressing explicit mental (to think) and emotional (to fear) activities and states. 2.2.3.1. ¶amû The late (Neo-Assyrian and Neo-Babylonian) ¶amû ‘to become confident, to rely’ (CAD Ú 72b) occurs either without explicit object or with ana. Without object in SAA 10, 154rev.:4: ummu šarri(AMA LUGAL) bēltija (GAŠAN-a) lu ¶a-ma-ti ‘let the mother of the king, my lady, be confident.’ With ana in SAA 18, 14rev.:10–13: mātāti(KUR.KUR) gab-bi a-na pa-ni šarri be-lí-ia ¶a-mu-ú ‘all the lands rely upon the king, my lord.’22 2.2.3.2. ¶asāsum ¶asāsu ‘to think of (= to be mindful of ), to remember’ (CAD Ú 122a) is likewise attested with all three constructions. Lack of an explicit object and the dative, however, seem comparatively rare. We can cite the Gt-imperative in the Standard Babylonian Gilg. XI 22: ki-ik-ki-šu ši-me-ma i-garu ¶i-is-sa-as ‘Listen, reed fence, pay attention, wall!’ Much more common is the accusative; CAD Ú 124b s. v. ¶asāsu 6a cites VAS 10, 214 iv 10–11 (OB Agušaja; see Groneberg 1997:76): 10ši-i i¶-su-ús!(RI) qú-ur-da-am 11i-libi-i-ša ik-ta-´a(A)!-ar a-na-an-ta ‘she thought of heroism, in her heart prepared for battle’; or OB Gilg. III 271: [il-k]a ta-¶a-sà-as dLugal-bàn-da ‘you will remember your God, Lugalbanda.’ The use of the dative with this verb seems to be confined to two attestations. The first is found in the Old Akkadian personal name Úusus-

22

Thus against the translation ‘to rejoice’ given by Reynolds 2003:182a for this passage and for SAA 18, 162rev.:9.

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sarrāriš (Hilgert 2002:278 with fn. 27) as well as a couplet of an Old Babylonian dialogue (JCS 15, 6:17–18): 17e-li-ki ¶a-as-sà-a-ku 18a-na ši-ib-qì-ki ša pa-na-nu-um ‘I am more mindful than you of your earlier tricks.’ The object in both occurrences is certainly negative. One might hesistantly suggest a translation ‘to be wary of ’ for both, though two attestations can hardly provide the basis for a conclusion either way. 2.2.3.3. kapādum The variable use of the accusative and the preposition ana with the verb kapādum ‘to plan, to plot, to devise’ is relatively clear. The accusative, on the one hand, occurs as the direct object, ‘to plan something,’ as in RIMA 1 0.75.1 i 14–18 (Arik-dēn-ili): e-nu-ma … e-pe-eš15 É šá-a-tu ak-pu-dú ‘When I planned the building of this temple …’ The construction kapādum ana, on the other hand, carries the meaning ‘to plan for/against’ something. We can contrast two lines from the Tukulti-Ninurta epic cited in CAD K 173b s. v. b. The first Tn-Epic iv 21 (Machinist 1978:92, l. 21′): M Tukulti-Ninurta a-na na-´ar ma-mi-ti it-ta-kíl ka-pid a-na qa-ab-^le_ ‘TN trusted in loyalty to the oath, he planned for the battle’; the second in Machinist 1978:116, l. 21′: i+na-an-na ku-pu-ud ana šar(MAN) Kaš-ši-i … ‘Now plan against the king of the Kassites …’23 What is planned is indicated by the accusative, the intention of the plan by the preposition ana, analogous to the use of a beneficiary dative. 2.2.3.4. palā¶um We can cite all three constructions for the verb in CAD P 37b ‘to be afraid, to fear.’ Without object in ARM 2, 106:19–21: 19 ap-la-a¶-ma UR.MAÚ še-tu 20 a-na mu-ba-al-li-i¢-¢im ša GIŠÚI.A 21 ú-še-ri-ib-ma ‘I was afraid and (so) I let the lion enter into a wooden cage’; or in ARM 10, 97:13–14: 13 aš-šum a-wa-tim an-ni-tim 14ap-la-a¶-ma ù a´-ri-im ‘Because of this word I became afraid and worried.’ With the accusative in AbB 1, 132:5–6: 5… ap-ta-la-a[¶-k]a-ma 6a-wa-tam qá-ba-am ul e-li-a ‘I became afraid of you and could not say a word.’ The direct cause of fear is marked with the accusa-

23 Against CAD K 173b s. v. 2, there is no need for a special meaning ‘to take care of,’ as is suggested for a lone Old Babylonian text (TCL 17, 15:10–13 = AbB 14, 69:10–13): 10 a-wi-lam ša GIŠKIRI6 la ka-ap-du 11 a-na GIŠKIRI6 ša ta-ap-pí-šu 12 i-in-šu i-na-aš-ši-ma 13 GIŠKIRI6-šu ul i-ka-pu-ud. We can follow Veenhof in AbB 14, p. 61 ad No. 69 and the lexical notes on p. 209 in translating simply: ‘A man who, not having planned his own garden, covets his colleague’s garden, will never develop his own garden.’

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tive. The use of the preposition ana is similar to the use with kapādum, as in AbB 11, 125:26′: a-na na-pí-iš-ti-ia ap-ta-la-a¶ ‘I became afraid for my life/ livelihood.’ 2.2.3.5. parādum CAD P 141b also lists parādum ‘to be fearful, disturbed, restless, upset’ without explicit object and with a prepositional phrase. Without object in ARMT 14, 11:15–16: 15… É-ti ka-lu-šu 16p[a-r]i-id ‘My entire household was upset.’ With prepositional phrase in CCT 4, 27a left edge 1: a-na URUDU … lá i-pá-ri?-id ‘he should not be concerned about the copper.’ The accusative seems not to be attested. 2.2.3.6. ša¶ātum According to the attestations in CAD Š1 86b, ša¶ātum ‘to fear, to respect, to become afraid,’ like palā¶um but unlike parādum, can be used to express the sentiments of awe and reverence. With the accusative in ARM 3, 36:21: be-lí aš-¶u-ut-ma … ‘I became afraid of my lord …’ Or with the preposition ana, as in TCL 4, 10:7: a-na tup-pi-kà la ta-ša-¶u-ut-ma ‘Do not be afraid for your tablet.’ 2.2.3.7. takālum We can end with takālum ‘to trust, to rely, to put one’s faith in,’ which consistently takes a prepositional phrase as object. CAD T 63b cites OB Etana (Haul 2000:110, l. 11′): at-ka-la-ak-ku-um-ma (var. at-kal-kúm-ma) d UTU qú-ra-du ‘I trusted you, O warrior Šamaš’; or OB Gilg. III vi 249: [e t]a-at-kal Gilgameš ana e-mu-qí-ka ‘Do not trust in your own strength.’ 2.3. Semantic coherence of the set Beginning with several perception verbs, we have described constructions with a prepositional phrase in which perception shifts to directed perception, moving to attention and cognition verbs in the range ‘to care for’ or ‘to wait’ and ending with emotional verbs ‘to fear’ and ‘to trust.’ The syntactic properties discussed above are summarized in the table below. Do these verbs represent a distinct subset of the Akkadian lexicon? Each belongs to the universal semantic set covered by Sanmartín 2002: 188 for Akkadian under “mental predicates.” Moreover, if we consider the distinction between grammatical roles (subject, object) and semantic roles (agent, patient, recipient), most recently discussed in Woods 2008:45ff., we can identify the subject of each verb as either a perceiver

C. W. Hess, Oblique Core Arguments in Akkadian

743

(who sees, hears, etc.), cognizer (who thinks, waits, etc.), or emoter (who fears, loves, etc.). These three categories can be subsumed under the label experiencer, i. e. someone who experiences an internal state (Waltisberg 2007:365; Van Valin–LaPolla 1997:85). We can thus generally reformulate von Soden’s obervations cited above (GAG § 143c; AHw. 47b) as follows: Akkadian can use a prepositional phrase headed by the preposition ana to mark the second (semantic) argument of an experiencer predicate. Verb dagālum na¢ālum

N-/Dtn y

W.O. ? +

Acc. + +

N-/Dtn n

W.O. + +

Acc. + (+)

Dat. (+) +

palāsum

n

+

+

+

¶amû

n

+

o

+

na’ādum

n

+

o

+

¶asāsum

(y)

(+)

+

(+)

puqqum

n

o

+

+

kapādum

n

+

+

+

egûm

n

+

o

+

palā¶um

N

+

+

+

mekûm

n

+

+

+

parādum

N

+

o

+

šâ¢um

n

o

+

+

ša¶ātum

N

+

+

+

šelû

n

+

o

+

takālum

N

+

o

+

+

+

+

šuta’’ûm

Dat. Verb + qu’’ûm + waqûm

Table 1: Summary of Object Marking with Experiencer Predicates24

Both grammars and dictionaries give the impression that this usage is a syntactic quirk for which the accusative is to be expected. But even if we confine ourselves to the Semitic languages, we can note several parallels for experiencer predicates which behave similarly. The following examples should suffice, though they can easily be expanded. Jenni’s (2000: 117–133) prepositional analysis and Malessa’s (2000:119) work on valence in Biblical Hebrew offer the following: r’h ‘to see, look at’ (with b); µzh ‘to see, perceive’ with l-, b-; nb¢ (pi) ‘to look at’ with l- and (hi) with ’l or b; šm" ‘to hear, listen; heed’ (with b-, possibly also with l-); qšb (hi) ‘to listen attentively’ with l-; and jµl (pi) ‘to wait or hope for’ (l-). Reckendorf ’s (1921:236–237) Arabic syntax notes ’aµassa ‘to perceive, sense, experi-

24

N-/Dt- refers to N- and Dt-Stem passives; W.O. = Without Object. Entries in parentheses refer to rare or abnormal usage.

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Morphosyntax and Text Structure in Akkadian

ence’; raǧā ‘to hope for’; and sami"a ‘to hear’ with bi or li.25 Going farther afield, we can, according to the entries in Dillmann 1865 and Dillmann 1857:306f., point to Old Ethiopic säm"a ‘to hear’ with the prepositions bä¶abä, bä or dibä; ´änµa ‘wait, await, watch for’ with lä; täsäffäwä ‘to hope (for), await, expect’; and tämaµ¥änä ‘to trust.’26 The use of the preposition does not represent a periphrase of the accusative, but is normal within a defined semantic range. But if we want to argue that the syntactic behavior of the Akkadian verbs presented above is to be ascribed to their semantic properties, we are left with the problem why these verbs seem to mark their objects with a preposition (e. g. palāsum and dagālum) while other verbs with similar meanings, such as amārum, which displays a more concrete transfield semantic shift “to know (come to know by seeing)” (CAD A2 13a s. v. A 2d), or ´ubbûm do not? An easy answer would simply be that oblique marking can be tendentially identified, but is in the end simply lexically idiosyncratic. A definitive answer would demand a conjunction of several factors, for most of which even preliminary studies are still lacking. I will however briefly present several observations on properties of the verbs which I consider to be relevant to a future solution. 1. All of the verbs belong to the class of those exhibiting “low transitivity,” following Kouwenberg 1997:92–93. This statement relates the notion of semantic roles to the syntactic properties of transitivity. These semantic roles can, however, be simplified and subsumed under two generalized semantic roles in a sentence, namely “actor” and “undergoer,” defined as “the primary arguments of a transitive predication, either one of which may be the single argument of an intransitive verb” (Van Valin 2005:60). A verb can take up to two macroroles, but no more. Low transitivity means that the subject and object of our verbs deviate from the prototypical definition of the semantic macroroles actor and undergoer, in that “their interaction does not involve movement (directed or otherwise), and neither entity is apparently contacted or directly affected by the other” (Michaelis 1993:341). This seems not only to provide support for properties of transitivity as the underlying factor of D- and Dt-stem interchangeability discussed by Kouwenberg 1997:332–333, but also accords with the observation that the verbs are almost all, with the excep25

Lane 1427c suggests that the latter indicates “what is intentional … meaning ‘I gave ear, hearkened, or listened to him, or it’.” 26 Cf. Michaelis 1993 as well as Blake 1994:144f. for examples of “non-subject complements of certain intransitive verbs” in Greek and Latin.

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tion of puqqum, šâ¢um, and possibly dagālum attested without explicit objects. We can follow a general observation that perception verbs tend to omit their object “if it could be inferred from the preceding discourse or context” (Dixon 1991:127; thus also von Soden in GAG § 143c). Indeed, Van Valin–LaPolla 1997:124 demonstrate that the second argument of certain activity verbs, including English look at, are syntactically and semantically optional, whereas the second, optional argument of verbs such as eat (or Italian mangiare, etc.) involve a derivational shift (Van Valin– LaPolla 1997:148). We are left with the conclusion that the verbs listed above can be syntactically intransitive. 2. Only in few cases (na¢ālum, perhaps also the late mekûm, and šâ¢um) does there seem to be free variation between accusatival and prepositional marking. In most, the difference between the two is semantically functional (as in palā¶um) or derivative (as in dagālum), that is, the preposition marks a semantic derivation of the verb. The verbs waqûm and qu’’ûm almost consistently mark their objects with one construction or the other, not equally often with both; they are thus poor examples for a variation of accusatival and prepositional object marking. The possibility of simply lexicalizing the derivative dagālum ana, as suggested by Dixon 1991:126 for English ‘to look at,’ ‘to look like,’ etc., is in part unsatisfactory, since this solution does not explain the consistent use of the preposition with a confined semantic set of verbs. 3. Following the observation on transitivity, none of the verbs presented above, with the possible exception of na¢ālum and ¶asāsum, is unambiguously attested with a passive N-stem or Dt-stem.27 Indeed, for palāsum the ingressive N-stem with active meaning is more common than the G-stem, whereas for palā¶um the N-stem occurs as a NA variant to the G-stem without discernible difference in meaning. This is not, for example, the case for amārum. We can conclude that the object of the verbs cannot function as a syntactic pivot or controller in a passive transformation, that is, cannot control verbal agreement as subject. We can compare the German passive construction “Ihm wurde von seinen Freunden geholfen” to active “His friends helped him,” offered in Palmer 1994:128. This distinction between a controller and an argument is an important point against the passivization test for arguments proposed by Buccellati Cf. the passive G-statives of na¢ālum given in Zgoll 2006:356f.; they are passives of the primary meaning ‘to look at, inspect,’ rather than ‘to attend to.’ The lone example of a passive N-stem of dagālum given in AHw. 150a can probably be discounted; see the re-edition in SAA 10, 362edg.:17′. 27

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Morphosyntax and Text Structure in Akkadian

1996:363. The German example does show that a term can be an argument despite oblique marking and without being able to occur as subject of a passive. 4. Jolly 1993 proposes a tripartite division of the functions of prepositions within a clause: adjunct, argument, and argument-adjunct, of which all three can be demonstrated in Akkadian. Adjunct uses provide peripheral modifiers to the core as a whole, pertinent examples for which are subsumed under the functions “temporal” and “modal” in von Soden’s dictionary, e. g. ana 5 ūmē ‘for five days.’ Argument uses, which mark a semantic argument of the core, most commonly indicate the recipient with verbs of giving or the goal with inherently telic motion verbs such as ¢e¶ûm. That is, using the definition of (semantic) arguments given by Deutscher 2000:9, the preposition marks “a central element, which is required by the predicate, and which in some sense ‘completes’ a missing part in the interpretation of the predicate.”28 Argument-adjuncts, which share an argument with the clause, are most commonly used to indicate a location with verbs of placing, putting such as nadûm or šakānum or with inherently atelic activity predicates such as rapādum or lasāmum.29 While the difference between the last two types, as noted by Kouwenberg 2002, is not particularly salient for Akkadian grammar, it does explain the similar behavior of dative and allative marking as well as the apparent similarities between our verbs and verbs of movement. To summarize, the situation can be described thus: most of the experiencer predicates described above can appear syntactically intransitive, require two semantic arguments, but seemingly only one semantic macrorole. In other words, following Van Valin 2005:64, they are M(acrorole)-intransitive. The thing attended to, waited on or for, or looked at cannot be assigned a macrorole, just as the goals or destination reached with motion verbs or recipient with certain transfer verbs cannot. Now, none of these observations alone can provide an explanation, but together they contribute to a framework within which a more comprehensive investigation of argument-marking patterns in Akkadian might procede.

28 Cf. also the terminological survey given in Karahashi 2000, Appendix C. The notion of arguments versus non-arguments or adjuncts provided the basis for Kouwenberg’s (2002) investigation of the ventive. 29 Consider, for example, the various prepositions attested for nadûm in kišpī eli awīlim iddī (CH § 2); išātam nēpešī-šunu iddû (CT 46, 1 ii 8); and ana ´ibittim tanaddīšu (VS 16, 105:16). In effect, argument-adjuncts represent reduced propositions.

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Though further investigations are certainly required, I would propose that most cases can be covered by the rule: Non-macrorole arguments in Akkadian are by default marked with the dative preposition ana. References Al-Rawi–George 1994 Blake 1994 Borger 1956 Borger 2004 Buccellati 1996 Delitzsch 1896 Deutscher 2000 Dillmann 1857 Dillmann 1865 Dixon 1991 Durand 1988 Edzard 2004

Eidem–Læssøe 2001 Evans–Wilkins 2000

Fales–Jakob-Rost 1991 Fincke 2000 Foster 2005 George 2003 Goddard 2008 Goldberg–Ackerman 2001 Greengus 1986

Al-Rawi, F. N. H.; George, A. R. Tablets from the Sippar Library III. Two Royal Counterfeits. Iraq 56:135–148. Blake, B. J. Case. Cambridge. Borger, R. Die Inschriften Asarhaddons Königs von Assyrien (AfO Bh 9). Graz. Borger, R. Mesopotamisches Zeichenlexikon (AOAT 305). Münster. Buccellati, G. A Structural Grammar of Babylonian. Wiesbaden. Delitzsch, F. Assyrisches Handwörterbuch. Leipzig. Deutscher, G. Syntactic Change in Akkadian: The Evolution of Sentential Complementation. Oxford. Dillmann, A. Grammatik der äthiopischen Sprache. Leipzig. Dillmann, A. Lexicon Linguae Aethiopicae. Lipsia. Dixon, R. M. W. A New Approach to English Grammar, on Semantic Principles. Oxford. Durand, J.-M. Archives épistolaires de Mari. I/1 (ARM 26). Paris. Edzard, D. O. Altbabylonische Literatur und Religion. Attinger, P. et al. (eds.). Mesopotamien: Die altbabylonische Zeit (OBO 160/4). Fribourg. Pp. 481–640. Eidem, J.; Læssøe, J. The Shemshara Archives. Vol. 1. The Letters. Viborg. Evans, N.; Wilkins, D. In the Mind’s Ear: The Semantic Extensions of Perception Verbs in Australian Languages. Language 76:546–592. Fales, F. M.; Jakob-Rost, L. Neo-Assyrian Texts from Assur: Private Archives. Part 1. SAAB 5:3–157. Fincke, J. C. Augenleiden nach keilschriftlichen Quellen. Würzburg. Foster, B. R. Before the Muses: An Anthology of Akkadian Literature. Bethesda. George, A. R. The Babylonian Gilgamesh Epic. Oxford. Goddard, C. Lexico-Semantic Universals. Hanks, P. (ed.). Lexicology. Vol. 3. London. Pp. 99–163. Goldberg, A. E.; Ackerman, F. The Pragmatics of Obligatory Adjuncts. Language 77:798–814. Greengus, S. Studies in Ishchali Documents (BiMes 19). Malibu.

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Groneberg 1997 Gruber 2008 Haul 2000 Hilgert 2002 Izre’el 1991 Jenni 2000 Jolly 1993

Karahashi 2000 Kouwenberg 1997 Kouwenberg 2002 Lambert 1987

Lambert 1989

Longman 1991 Machinist 1978 Malessa 2006 Michaelis 1993

Moran 1992 Palmer 1994 Rainey 1996

Reckendorf 1921 Reynolds 2003 Rouault 1977

Groneberg, B. R. M. Lob der Ištar: Gebet und Ritual an die altbabylonische Venusgöttin (CM 8). Groningen. Gruber, J. S. Look and See. Hanks, P. (ed.). Lexicology. Vol. 4. London. Pp. 297–310. Haul, M. Das Etana-Epos: Ein Mythos von der Himmelfahrt des Königs von Kiš. Göttingen. Hilgert, M. Akkadisch in der Ur III-Zeit (IMGULA 5). Münster. Izre’el, S. Amurru Akkadian: A Linguistic Study. Vol. I (HSS 40). Atlanta. Jenni, E. Die hebräischen Präpositionen. Band 3. Die Präposition Lamed. Stuttgart. Jolly, J. Preposition Assignment in English. Van Valin, Jr., R. D. (ed.). Advances in Role and Reference Grammar. Amsterdam. Pp. 275–310. Karahashi, F. Sumerian Compound Verbs with Body-Part Terms. PhD. Diss. University of Chicago. Kouwenberg, N. J. C. Gemination in the Akkadian Verb (SSN 32). Assen. Kouwenberg, N. J. C. Ventive, Dative and Allative in Old Babylonian. ZA 92:200–240. Lambert, W. G. A Further Attempt at the Babylonian “Man and his God”. Rochberg-Halton, F. (ed.). Language, Literature, and History: Philological and Historical Studies Presented to Erica Reiner. New Haven. Pp. 187–202. Lambert, W. G. A Babylonian Prayer to Anūna. Behrens, H. et al. (eds.). dumu-e2-dub-ba-a: Studies in Honor of Åke W. Sjöberg. Philadelphia. Pp. 321–336. Longman, T. Fictional Akkadian Autobiography. Winona Lake. Machinist, P. The Epic of Tukulti Ninurta I. PhD. Diss. Yale University. Malessa, M. Untersuchungen zur verbalen Valenz im biblischen Hebräisch (SSN 49). Assen. Michaelis, L. A. On Deviant Case-Marking in Latin. Van Valin, Jr., R. D. (ed.). Advances in Role and Reference Grammar. Amsterdam. Pp. 311–373. Moran, W. L. The Amarna Letters. Baltimore. Palmer, F. R. Grammatical Roles and Relations. Cambridge. Rainey, A. F. Canaanite in the Amarna Tablets: A Linguistic Analysis of the Mixed Dialect Used by Scribes from Canaan. 4 Vols (HdO I/25). Leiden. Reckendorf, H. Arabische Syntax. Heidelberg. Reynolds, F. The Babylonian Correspondence of Esarhaddon (SAA 18). Helsinki. Rouault, O. Mukannišum: l’administration et l’économie palatiales à Mari (ARMT 18). Paris.

C. W. Hess, Oblique Core Arguments in Akkadian Sallaberger 1999

Sanmartín 2002 von Soden 1968

Streck 2007 Van Valin 2005 Van Valin–LaPolla 1997 Veenhof 2001

Waltisberg 2007

Woods 2008 Zgoll 2006

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Sallaberger, W. ‘Wenn Du mein Bruder bist, …’ Interaktion und Textgestaltung in altbabylonischen Alltagsbriefen (CM 16). Groningen. Sanmartín, J. Universales semánticos y su lexicalización en acadio. AuOr 20:183–219. von Soden, W. Aramäische Wörter in neuassyrischen und neu- und spätbabylonischen Texten. Ein Vorbericht. II. N–z und Nachträge. Or NS 37:261–271. Streck, M. P. Beiträge zum akkadischen Gilgameš-Epos. Or NS 76:404–423. Van Valin, R. D. Exploring the Syntax-Semantics Interface. Cambridge. Van Valin, R. D., Jr.; LaPolla, R. J. Syntax: Structure, Meaning and Function. Cambridge. Veenhof, K. The Old Assyrian Period. Westbrook, R.; Jasnow, R. (eds.). Security for Debt in Ancient Near Eastern Law. Leiden. Pp. 93–159. Waltisberg, M. Zur Semantik von Präpositionen: "al im Biblisch-Aramäischen. Luchsinger, J. et al. (eds.). “… der seine Lust hat am Wort des Herrn!” Festschrift für Ernst Jenni zum 80. Geburtstag (AOAT 336). Münster. Pp. 364–378. Woods, C. The Grammar of Perspective: The Sumerian Conjugation Prefixes as a System of Voice (CM 32). Leiden. Zgoll, A. Traum und Welterleben im antiken Mesopotamien (AOAT 333). Münster.

Morphosyntactic Structure of the Premises in the Neo-Babylonian Laws Golda H. Kaplan Istitute of Oriental Manuscripts, St. Petersburg

The fragments of the Neo-Babylonian Laws (NBL) found in the city of Sippar go back to the 7th century B. C.1 The premises in the Neo-Babylonian Laws are mostly structured as attributive ša-clauses with the Preterite. As far as we know, the Preterite within such clauses used to denote the past throughout the history of Akkadian:2 šá nu-dun-nu-ú a-na DUMU.SAL-šú iq-bu-ma lu-ú ¢up-pi iš-¢u-ru-šú u ár-ki NÍG.ŠID-šú im-¢u-ú a-ki-[i] NÍG.ŠID-šú šá ri-e-¶i nu-dun-nu-ú ana DUMU.SALti-šú i-nam-din (inandin) … ‘A man who made an oral promise of the dowry for his daughter, or wrote (it) on a tablet for her,3 and whose estate later decreased—he shall give to his daughter a dowry in accordance with the remaining assets of his estate …’ NBL § 9obv. iii 23–29, v. also NBL § 5obv. ii 4–10; § 6obv. ii 15–18; § 7obv. ii 24–31; § 8obv. iii 3–10; § 10obv. iii 32–35; § 12rev. i 7–11; § 15rev. ii 29–33. LÚ

The premises in NBL rarely expressed by šumma-clauses should also be regarded as dealing with the past according to the meaning of the text:

1

NBL examples are cited according to: Driver, G. R.; Miles, J. C. The Babylonian Laws. Vol. II. Oxford, 1955, pp. 324–347; NBL § 9, 12 are given in round brackets according to: Roth, M. T. Law Collections from Mesopotamia and Asia Minor. 2nd ed. Atlanta, 1997, pp. 143–149. 2 Hecker, K. Grammatik der Kültepe-Texte (AnOr 44). Roma, 1968, § 141, 142; Aro, J. Studien zur mittelbabylonischen Grammatik (StOr 20). Helsinki, 1955, pp. 146– 147; Mayer, W. Untersuchungen zur Grammatik des Mittelassyrischen (AOAT Sonderreihe 2). Neukirchen–Vluyn, 1971, § 63; Streck, M. P. Zahl und Zeit. Grammatik der Numeralia und des Verbalsystems im Spätbabylonischen. Groningen, 1995. T. II, § 21, 24. 3 Cf. confusion of masculine and feminine pronominal suffixes in the Kuyunjik manuscripts of the Standard Babylonian Gilgameš epic (George, A. R. The Babylonian Gilgamesh Epic. Oxford, 2003, p. 440).

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Morphosyntax and Text Structure in Akkadian DAMtum

šá nu-dun-na-a-šú mu-ut-su il-qu-ú DUMU-šú DUMU.SAL la ti-šuú u mu-ut-su ši-im-ti ub-lu RÙ NÍG.ŠID šá mu-ti-šú nu-dun-nu-ú ma-la nu-dun-nu-ú in-nam-din-šu šum-[ma] mu-ut-su ši-rik-tum iš-[ta]-rak-šú ši-rik-ti šá mu-[ti]-šú it-ti nu-dun-ni-e-šu ta-liq-qí-e-ma ap-lat šum-ma nudun-nu-ú la ti-i-ši LÚSÁ.KUD NÍG.ŠID šá mu-ti-šú im-ma-la-ku (imma[r]ma) ki-i NÍG.ŠID šá mu-ti-šú mín-ma in-nam-din-šú (inandinšu). ‘A wife, whose husband took her dowry, and who had no son or daughter, and whose husband died—a dowry equivalent to the dowry (which her husband had received) shall be given to her from her husband’s estate. If her husband awarded to her a marriage gift, she may take her husband’s marriage gift together with her dowry, and thus her claim can be satisfied. If she had no dowry, a judge shall assess the value of her husband’s estate, and shall give to her some property in accordance with the value of her husband’s estate.’ NBL § 12rev. i 7–23, v. also § 7obv. ii 35–38.

One premise in the Neo-Babylonian Laws is structured as an independent sentence with subsequent actions expressed by the PreteritePerfect chain (sequence): LÚ DAM i-¶u-uz-ma DUMU.MEŠ ú-lid-su ár-ki LÚ šu-a-ti šim-ti ú-bil-šuma a-mil-tum šu-a-ti a-na É šá-ni-i e-ri-bi pa-ni-šú il-ta-kan nu-dun-na šá ul-tu É AD-šú tu-ub-lu u mín-ma šá mu-ut-su iš-ru-ku-šú i-liq-qí-e-ma… ‘A man married (or supposedly: ‘will marry’) a wife, and she bore (or: ‘will bear’) him sons and later on the man died (or: ‘will die,’ lit. fate ‘carried off,’ or: ‘will carry off ’ that man), and that woman then decided (or: ‘will decide,’ lit. ‘set,’ or: ‘will set her face’) to enter another man’s house—she may take (from her first husband’s estate) the dowry that she had brought from her father’s house and anything that her husband awarded to her and …’ NBL § 13rev. iv 24–34.

We remember that in all Akkadian dialects the Preterite and the Perfect in an independent sentence used to express the past (GAG § 79, 80); and in addition to the fact that all other premises in the Neo-Babylonian Laws should be regarded as referring to the past, this one is also preferably to be translated by the past. One can safely assume that the temporal logic of laws was the same throughout the history of the Akkadian legal tradition. Hence, let me consider the temporal context in the premises of the Code of Hammurapi (CH).

G. Kaplan, Morphosyntactic Structure of the Premises in NB Laws

753

CH is a compendium of laws framed with an introduction and conclusion.4 Usually a law has a premise expressing a legal case, and a sanction. Syntactically such a law is a complex sentence, the first part (protasis) of which expresses the premise, and the second part (apodosis) expresses the sanction. The protasis, as a rule, is a šumma-clause: šum-ma a-wi-lum A.ŠÀ … ša AGA.UŠ … iš-ta-am ¢up-pa-šu i¶-¶e-ep-pí … ‘If a man bought (or: ‘buys’) the field … of a rēdûm … his tablet shall be broken …’ CH § 37, XIIa, 10–16.

It is possible to determine the time of action from the meaning of the text in the following parts of CH: in the Introduction and in the Conclusion, in cases of direct speech and oaths included in the text and in sanctions. The case with the premises is more difficult. All the premises can be divided into two groups. The 1st group includes original premises preceding the original sanctions. šumma-clauses of the original premises are mostly formulated through the Preterite and the Perfect. Old Babylonian letters show that the Preterite and the Perfect in šumma-clauses could express both the past and the future. Thus one has to determine their time reference out of the context of a letter. As for laws of CH, taken separately, beyond the structure of CH, the temporal meaning of the original premises is usually unclear. The premises of the 2nd group appear after the original sanctions were carried out (or not), causing further sanctions. These premises seem to belong to the future for they occur after the original sanctions that truly refer to the future: šum-ma a-wi-lum ki-iš-pí e-li a-wi-lim id-di-ma … ša e-li-šu ki-iš-pu nadu-ú … dÍD i-ša-al-li-a-am-ma šum-ma dÍD ik-ta-ša-sú mu-ub-bi-ir-šu Ésú i-tab-ba-al … ‘If a man laid (or: ‘lays’) (a charge of) sorceries upon a man and … he upon whom (the charge of) sorceries were laid shall submerge in the River and if the River overwhelms him, his accuser may take his house …’

4

CH is cited according to: Borger, R. Babylonisch-assyrische Lesestücke. Roma, 1963; Driver, G. R.; Miles, J. C. The Babylonian Laws. Vol. II. Oxford, 1955, pp. 1– 304; Roth, M. T. Law Collections from Mesopotamia and Asia Minor. 2nd ed. Atlanta, 1997, pp. 71–142; Ungnad, A. Keilschrifttexte der Gesetze Hammurapis. Leipzig, 1909.

754

Morphosyntax and Text Structure in Akkadian CH § 2, Va, 33–45, v. also CH § 2, Va, 48, 49; § 13, VIIIa, 20; § 105, Ib, 47, 51; § 129, Vb, 51; § 141, VIIb, 46, 53; § 149, IXb, 4; § 172, XIIIb, 18, 30; § 173, XIIIb, 45, 46; § 174, XIIIb, 53; § 178, XIVb, 92, XVb, 2.

As mentioned above, the time reference of the so-called original premises is usually unclear. Nevertheless, the whole text of CH seems to make it more clear. CH begins as follows: ì-nu AN … dEN.LÍL … a-na dAMAR.UTU … dEN.LÍLut KIŠ ni-šì i-ši-mušum … i-nu-mi-šu Úa-am-mu-ra-pí … AN ù dEN.LÍL a-na ši-ir ni-ši ¢úub-bi-im šu-mi ib-bu-ú ‘When Anum … (and) Ellil … allotted the divine lordship of all the people unto Marduk … at that time Anum and Ellil for the prosperity of the people called my name Hammurapi …’ CH Ia, 1–49.

Let us compare the beginning of the Introduction with its last phrase paying attention to the adverb of time which precedes the law part of CH: i-nu-ma dAMAR.UTU a-na šu-te-šu-ur ni-ši KALAM … ú-wa-e-ra-an-ni kiit-tam ù mi-ša-ra-am i-na KA ma-tim aš-ku-un ši-ir ni-ši ú-¢i-ib i-nu-mi-šu šum-ma a-wi-lum a-wi-lam ú-ub-bi-ir-ma … ‘When Marduk commanded me to give justice to the people of the land… I prospered the people (lit. ‘I made good the flesh of the people’). At that time—If a man accused a man and …’ CH Va, 14–25.

As is evident, the first phrase of the Introduction and the closing phrase of the Introduction + the law part of CH have to a certain extent a similar syntactic construction. Both phrases are complex sentences that have subordinate clauses of time with a conjunction inu/inūma (GAG § 116b). The main clause in the second phrase in its turn consists of two clauses, and the adverb inūmīšu precedes the second main clause which actually opens the law part of CH. If the main clause of the first phrase following the adverb inūmīšu, describes a past action, and if the first main clause of the second phrase describes a past action too, then it is natural to suppose that the second main clause of the second phrase, which follows another inūmīšu—that is, the law part of CH—also describes a past action.5

5

Cf. Driver, G. R.; Miles, J. C. The Babylonian Laws. Vol. II, p. 146.

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In some of šumma-clauses of the original premises the time reference as the past can be easily determined by the context, as it had been noted by H. Hirsch:6 šum-ma a-wi-lum a-na DUMU-šu na-sa-¶i-im pa-nam iš-ta-ka-an … da-aa-nu wa-ar-ka-sú i-pár-ra-su-ma šum-ma DUMU ar-nam kab-tam … la ublam a-bu-um DUMU-šu i-na ap-lu-tim ú-ul i-na-sà-a¶ šum-ma ar-nam kabtam … it-ba-lam a-na iš-ti-iš-šu pa-ni-šu ub-ba-lu šum-ma ar-nam kab-tam a-di ši-ni-šu it-ba-lam a-bu-um DUMU-šu i-na ap-lu-tim i-na-sà-a¶ ‘If a man decided (or: ‘decides,’ lit. ‘sets,’ or: ‘will set face’) to disinherit his son and … the judges shall investigate his case and if the son did not commit a heavy sin … the father may not disinherit his son. If he committed a heavy sin … they shall pardon him for the first time; if he committed a heavy sin a second time, the father may disinherit his son.’ CH § 168–169, XIIb, 9–36, v. also CH § 12, VIIIa, 6; § 46, XIIIa, 51; § 131, Vb, 73; § 132, VIb, 3; § 147, VIIIb, 61; § 151, IXb, 32, 34; § 172, XIIIb, 8.

Some original premises in CH include an attributive ša-clause with the Preterite, which always denotes a past action. Thus, such a clause sometimes helps us to determine a whole premise as the past: šum-ma NIN.DINGIR … ša a-bu-ša še-ri-ik-tam iš-ru-ku-ši-im ku-nu-kam iš-¢ú-ru-ši-im i-na ¢up-pí-im ša iš-¢ú-ru-ši-im wa-ar-ka-sà e-ma e-li-ša ¢abu na-da-nam iš-¢ur-ši-im-ma … ‘If for a priestess-ugbabtum … whose father bestowed a dowry on her (and) wrote for her a sealed tablet he wrote in the tablet which he wrote for her, to give her estate where it was good to her and …’ CH § 179, XVb, 20–32, v. also CH § 178, XIVb, 73, 75; § 179, XVb, 34.

Some original premises in CH are structured as šumma-clauses with the Present denoting the punctive. But such cases usually can be regarded as having a shade of modality: šum-ma a-wi-lum ¶i-ir-ta-šu … i-iz-zi-ib … še-ri-ik-tam … ú-ša-lam-ši-imma i-iz-zi-ib-ši ‘If a man wished (or: ‘wishes’) to divorce his wife … he shall restore to her the dowry… and he shall divorce her.’ CH § 138, VIIb, 14–24, v. also CH § 30, Xa, 67; § 122, IVb, 36; § 274, XXIIIb, 22 (?). 6 Hirsch, H. Zur Frage der t-Formen in den keilschriftlichen Gesetzestexten. Dietrich, M., Röllig, W. (eds.). Lišān mit¶urti. Festschrift W. von Soden (AOAT 1). Neukirchen, 1969, p. 124.

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It is typical of the Present in Akkadian to denote the punctive in the future with a shade of modality (GAG § 78d), in particular, in the sanctions of CH. In Old Babylonian and Old Assyrian the Present could also express the punctive in the past with a shade of modality (GAG § 78f, GKT § 74c). The punctive of the original premises is regularly expressed by the Preterite and the Perfect. In a šumma-clause both forms can be used simultaneously. In such sequences the first action is, as a rule, expressed by the Preterite and the last one by the Perfect: šum-ma da-a-a-nu-um di-nam i-di-in pu-ru-sà-am ip-ru-ús ku-nu-uk-kam ú-še-zi-ib wa-ar-ka-nu-um-ma di-in-šu i-te-ni da-a-a-nam šu-a-ti … ú-kaan-nu-šu-ma … ‘If a judge rendered (or: ‘renders’) a judgement, gave (or: ‘gives’) a verdict, or deposited (or: ‘deposits’) a sealed opinion, after which he reversed (or: ‘reverses’) his judgement, they shall convict that judge …’ CH § 5, VIa, 6–17, v. also CH § 2, Va, 35–36; § 3, Va, 61–63; § 17, VIIIa, 53–55; § 22, IXa, 24–25; § 32, XIa, 18–19; § 33, XIa, 46– 47; § 42, XIIa, 65–66; § 56, XVa, 40–42; § 57, XVa, 50–53; § 58, XVa, 72–74; § 106, Ib, 57–59; § 119, IIIb, 76–78; § 123, IVb, 47–49, § 124, IVb, 59–60; § 125, IVb, 68–75; § 127, Vb, 28–29; § 142, VIIb, 60–62; § 159, Xb, 39–42; § 175, XIIIb, 61–63; § 179, XVb, 32–34; § 185, XVIb, 35–36; § 188, XVIb, 56–58; § 209, XVIIIb, 25–27; § 213, XVIIIb, 46–48; § 215, XVIIIb, 58–59, 62–64; § 218, XVIIIb, 77–78, 81–82; § 219, XVIIIb, 87; § 220, XVIIIb, 91–92; § 224, XIXb, 22–23; § 225, XIXb, 31–32; § 227, XIXb, 44–47; § 238, XXb, 58–59; § 240, XXb, 70–71; § 245, XXIb, 7–10; § 247, XXIb, 23–24; § 250, XXIb, 47–48; § 279, XXIIIb, 68–69, etc.

In the Old Babylonian letters the Preterite-Perfect frame denoting a sequence of actions in the past in independent sentences was the same: p

i-bi-dIŠKUR … ki-a-am ú-lam-mi-da-an-ni um-ma šu-ma A.ŠÀ É a-bi-ja … … ib-qú-ra-an-ni-ma … ši-bu-tum iz-zi-zu wa-ar-ka-at A.ŠÀ-im šu-a-ti ip-ru-sú-ma ki-ma… A.ŠÀ-um šu-ú ´i-bi-it-ni-ma ú-bi-ir-runim-ma DUB-pa-am id-di-nu-nim… i-na-an-na GIŠ.TÚG.PI.LAL … A.ŠÀ-li ib-ta-aq-ra-an-ni ù še-e i-na-a´-´a-ar ‘Ibbi-Adad informed me this way: “The field of the house of my father … the Deaf contested (from) me and … the elders gathered, treated the matter of this field and that … this field is exactly our property they stated and gave me a tablet (about this) … Now the Deaf … has contested my field (from) me (again) and watches my barley”.’ AbB 4, 40:5–20. GIŠ.TÚG.PI.LAL

Generally speaking, a šumma-clause is a type of an independent sentence (GAG § 161a). Hence, it seems reasonable to compare the use of

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the Preterite and the Perfect in šumma-clauses of CH with the use of the Preterite and the Perfect in independent sentences describing past events in the Old Babylonian letters. Hence, all mentioned above seems to prove Hans Hirsch’s idea that in Akkadian legal texts (Hirsch meant the Laws of Eshnunna, the Code of Hammurapi and the Middle Assyrian Laws) casuistically formulated cases were depicted as having taken place.7 The assumption of Hans Hirsch is additionally proved by the NeoBabylonian Laws where the premises are usually formed as ša-clauses with the Preterite, and as it was mentioned above, the Preterite within šaclauses always denoted the past. Thus, the temporal logic of laws seems to have been preserved throughout the history of the Akkadian legal tradition in spite of the changing of its expression.

7

“Wir haben vor uns jeweils besondere, kasuistisch formulierte ‘Fälle’, die als in der Vergangenheit abgeschlossen der jeweiligen Strafverfügung vorausgehen.” (Hirsch, H. Zur Frage der t-Formen in den keilschriftlichen Gesetzestexten. Lišān mit¶urti. Festschrift W. von Soden, p. 125).

Akkadian Sentences about the Present Time (II/2) Sergey Loesov Russian State University for the Humanities, Moscow

The present contribution is a continuation of my enquiry into the ways Akkadian verb expresses contemporaneity with a reference point.1 In this part, I continue the analysis of the verb list started in Loesov 2006. The first draft of this verb list was compiled on the basis of the OB glossary in Huehnergard 1997 (see Loesov 2006:140f. for the selection criteria); it comprised some 130 verbs common in OB letters. Later, I decided to expand the list by including some verbs from the glossary of Streck 2006.2 In the introductory note to the glossary, M. P. Streck explains: “Der folgende Grundwortschatz enthält alle häufigen altbabylonische Wörter. Aufgenommen sind alle Wörter, die im Akkadischen Handwörterbuch von W. von Soden einen Eintrag aufweisen, der mindestens eine Halbe Spalte lang ist” (p. 204). To complicate matters even more, I have added to the list a few common OA verbs that do not appear in either of the OB textbook glossaries. I believe that as far as the verbal morphosyntax (and perhaps grammar in general) goes, the Kültepe correspondence is the closest approximation to an Akkadian vernacular of the 2nd millennium one can ever get in our sources. Therefore, some frequent Old Assyrian verbs (mostly not technical terms of business) have to be included in the list (certain OA examples were crucial for the previous parts of this study). The OA corpus used in this study is largely limited to texts that K. Hecker made available online (http://www.hethport.uni-wuerzburg.de). The numbering of entries in the verb list continues from Loesov 2006. For the entry organization and abbreviations, see Loesov 2006:140f.3 1

The previous parts of this study were published in B&B 2:101–148 (= Loesov 2005) and B&B 3:133–148 (= Loesov 2006). 2 I am grateful to Prof. M. P. Streck for allowing me to use the manuscript of his textbook Altbabylonische Grammatik. 3 In the present contribution, there are gaps in the alphabetic listing of entries. E. g., (45) mâtum ‘to die’ is followed by (46) qerēbum ‘to approach,’ while some entries that are expected to be in between are now missing. The verbs that have been left out will be added in the last part of this study. An alphabetical index of all analysed verbs with their respective numbers will be supplied.

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The rest of the entries and a discussion chapter will be published in the future issues of B&B. In the meantime, I am going to put forward a few interpretative observations. In Loesov 2005, I claim that the Pres. iparras has problems coding telic events, and this is because iparras is supposedly an “Old Present.” Yet an obvious question arises: How did this come about while no competing New Present was emerging, since Akkadian (unlike most other branches of Semitic) developed no New Present?4 I suggest a speculative answer to this question. Akkadian, like most Semitic languages, felt a need to renew the methods of coding the Present Time sense. From the perspective of the Central Semitic, the easiest way to do so would have been to create a denominative Present using the base of the Active Participle. Yet, for Akkadian this path was unavailable, because what the traditional grammar of Akkadian calls “Participle” is an agent noun fully preserving its morphological (i. e., derivational) meaning when used predicatively, as e. g. in an OA sentence rābi´āti atta ‘you are a representative.’ The predicative use of the Participle is very rare, and it is never used as an attributive adjective. Thus, in an Akkadian translation of English sentences like, “I saw a playing child/burning building,” we would be unable to use participles as attributive adjectives the way they are used in English. To quote Kouwenberg forthcoming 8.4.3, “Since the Akkadian present participle is primarily an agent noun, cannot express concomitant action, and is hardly ever used as a predicate, it is an unlikely source for the creation of new tense/aspect forms.” As a matter of fact, the Proto-Semitic nominal pattern *R1āR2iR3- itself was a garden variety agent noun and no “participle,”5 so, in order to ultimately become the source of a New Present in various daughter languages of the Proto-Semitic, R1āR2iR3- had in the first place to get firmly entrenched in the nominal predicate slot (a step never taken by Ak-

4

I thank Dr. Kouwenberg for posing such a question to me in a p. c., as well as for his critique formulated both in our correspondence and in his forthcoming book The Akkadian Verb and Its Semitic Background (= Kouwenberg forthcoming), which he sent me as a manuscript. Much of my thinking about Akkadian verb has been taking shape in an ongoing dialogue with Kouwenberg’s ideas, which, I believe, will profoundly impact our understanding of the Akkadian grammar in the years to come. 5 This is born out by the way the reflexes of the PS *R1āR2iR3- are used in noun phrases of individual Semitic languages, in particular in Biblical Hebrew and Aramaic.

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kadian), and hereafter to be adjectivized in this very slot, i. e., to undergo a shift from “X [is] a doer” to “X [is] doing.”6 Now then, the etymologically primary meaning of the SC is the resultative one, i. e. it is far away from depicting ongoing events. Cross-linguistically, the resultative forms of transitive verbs may have both passive and active readings (Nedjalkov ed. 1988), which is especially true of the Akkadian SC. Yet, the “active” resultative is unstable, it is not salient (“observable”) or relevant enough: the resultative sense is much easier oriented patient-wise than agent-wise, since it is the patient that is normally affected by a transitive action. This is why the “Active Statives” of the traditional grammar were easily shifting to dynamic (fientive, non-resultative) uses, which, as I claim in Loesov 2005, can be both perfective (Preterite-like) and progressive (Present-like). Faute de mieux, Akkadian pressed this inherent resource into the service of renewing the Present Time semantic domain. Another relevant feature is the imperfective nature of the Stative-Resultative: Imperfectivity is a semantic element that resultative verb forms share with genuine dynamic Present Tenses, and this commonality may also have played a part in the assumed shift.7 Kouwen6

Note that the denominative New Present of Aramaic had no chance to emerge through a shift from the noun phrase to the nominal sentence (*a doing X > X [is] doing), since in Aramaic R1āR2iR3- is not a productive attributive adjective. 7 This topic is fraught with theoretical questions about motives and mechanisms of grammatical change. The real problem is: Could iparras give up (and share with something else) part of its present-tense functions if no innovative form or construction that was destined to win, i. e., to replace iparras completely, was in view? The problem of a more or less stable grammatical competition was most recently treated (among other themes related to the notion of “linguistic complexity”) in Dahl 2004. Östen Dahl adduces some well-known instances of “pattern competition” in the contemporary European languages, e. g. voy a trabajar and trabajaré in Spanish, “the choice between the perfect and the simple past as ways of expressing past time reference in languages such as English or Scandinavian” (p. 129), variation of “short” and “long” inflectional forms of predicative adjectives in Russian. He believes that “[c]ompetitive situations like the ones mentioned here are difficult for the structuralist ideal, with a system of neat oppositions ‘où tout se tient’ ” (ibid.). As noted in the previous parts of this study, in written records of Akkadian there exists a kind of competition between the Pres. and the SC in the Present Time domain. This applies mostly (but not exclusively) to outspoken semantically low-transitivity verbs, both with and without a direct object. A list of such verbs found earlier includes akālum ‘to have usufruct of,’ baqārum ‘to claim,’ ¶ašā¶um ‘to need, desire,’ kalûm ‘to hold, detain,’ nazāqum ‘to worry,’ parādum ‘to care, be afraid,’ takālum ‘to trust,’ wa´ûm ‘to have exit,’ wašābum ‘to live, be around.’

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berg forthcoming 7.3 argues: “In terms of semantic transitivity, statives have ‘zero transitivity,’ since they do not indicate a change in the state of the world. Accordingly, they cannot have an agentive subject, since agentivity implies a conscious volitional act on the part of the subject and is therefore only applicable to actions.” Binnick 1991:187, to whom K. refers at this juncture, indeed says: “States are largely involitional, involuntary. Therefore they cannot be agentive, and consequently any structure presupposing agency, for example […] the imperative (be tall !) is excluded.” Yet, in Akkadian the SC can have an agentive grammatical subject, e. g. it is used within the prohibitive construction (and with the directional ventive!): ana eqlim šuāti mamman lā ¢e4-¶i-a-am ‘nobody has to approach this field!’ (AbB 4, 125:14). An interim conclusion from this study, focused on the ways the SC and the Pres. of individual verbs are used in OB and OA, suggests that the SC is more unpredictable than GAG and subsequent grammatical research have it. According to GAG 126f., the only important restriction on the formation of the SC is the atelic semantics of a given verb, which is true in many cases (but not always, cf. the list of verbs in fn. 7). Kouwenberg forthcoming 7.3 claims (following GAG) that “the fientive verb itself must be telic in order to have a stative at all,” yet this claim is not sharp enough. Indeed, the criterion of (a)telicity may turn out to be not that crucial.8 Now, let us recall the semantic taxonomies of verbs that are current in typological studies (as described in Loesov 2005): very roughly, these taxonomies are based on the four Vendlerian classes (states, atelic processes, telic processes, punctual events), combined with the criteria of agentivity and transitivity (the latter understood both syntactically and semantically). If we then examine a given cross-linguistically identifiable semantic group of Akkadian verbs, we will be unable to tell from their prima facie semantic and syntactic properties whether their SC is productive and whether it appears in our records at all, and if it does, what it means. By contrast, as regards the Pres. and Pret., we can safely assume their existence and predict their meanings for most dictionary items of the G-stem (the few conspicuous exceptions are well-known and entered in textbooks and reference grammars of Akkadian). The t-Perf. is much 8

GAG 126f. does imply that telic verbs normally form the SC, but all three von Soden’s examples are infelicitous, which is hardly incidental. Thus, tebi ‘ist aufgestanden = ist auf ’ is exceptional (i. e., tebûm is a basic motion verb, yet its SC is quite rare), wa-´í-a-at (CH VIII rev.:7) is doubtless a predicative “participle,” erbet ‘ist eingetreten = ist darin’ is also exceptional.

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less frequent in text than the two basic tenses, yet so far no serious semantic restrictions on its formation have been reported.9 I see at least two problems with the SC: (1) If a given frequent (non-atelic) verb does not have a productive SC, why is this so? (2) Why does the SC develop lexicalized meanings of its own the way the other “tenses” do not?10 As a random example, consider a list of some frequent motion verbs, both transitive and intransitive, that include in their argument structure (always or in most contexts) the goal of movement, i. e., some of them are likely to be telic: wabālu ‘to bring, carry,’ šūbulum ‘to send, deliver,’ (ana X) alāku ‘to go/come to X,’ elûm ‘to go up (to a landmark),’ erēbum ‘to enter,’ kašādum ‘to reach,’ qerēbum ‘to draw near,’ sanāqum ‘to reach,’ šapārum ‘to send,’ târum ‘to return,’ ¢arādum ‘to send,’ ¢e¶ûm ‘to approach,’ warādum ‘to go/ come down (to a landmark),’ wârum ‘to go (up to),’ zabālum ‘to carry, transport.’ It turns out that for most of these motion verbs the SC is either unattested or very rare, for some of them it is frequent, and in certain contexts (or in lexicalized meanings) it may have been productive. And this unpredictability of the SC will probably be the case for almost any group of Akkadian verbs singled out on semantic grounds just outlined. One wonders what this massive lexicalization (and marginalization?) of the SC tells us about the history of the Akkadian and Semitic verb.11 9

Kouwenberg forthcoming 6.3, fn. 8 notes that “the t-perfect is not, like the stative, restricted to telic verbs: prototypically atelic verbs, such as to dance, and to walk around, are also used in the t-perfect.” 10 The problem receives attention in Kouwenberg forthcoming 7.3. K. explains lexicalization of the SC (he has mostly “active statives” in mind) by its crosslinguistic semantic properties of a resultative verb form: zero transitivity/agentivity, stativity (= zero dynamics), no morphologically encoded active vs. passive voice distinction. Yet, a question arises: Why then for resultative verb forms in other languages no massive lexical shifts have been reported, but rather restrictions on productivity (for these latter see Nedjalkov ed. 1988)? 11 I still believe (see Loesov 2005:142ff. for argumentation) that the SC first made its appearance as the resultative inflectional form of dynamic transitive verbs. Later it expanded (perhaps not always equally successfully) to other semantic groups of verbs, and then, as the last stage in its inner-Akkadian development, the SC came to be used for optional morphological identification of nominal predicates, both adjectives and nouns. Kouwenberg (forthcoming 7.4.1) also maintains his earlier view that “the univerbation which created the stative started with primary adjectives and spread from there to past participles, which have the same form” (cf. Kouwenberg 2000). In the fn. 48 of that chapter K. argues that my etymology “seems to be contradicted by Berber, where the suffix conjugation is only open to primary adjectives.” Yet, given the current state of

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(38) kullumum ‘to show; to assign’ To code the Experiencer, i. e., the one to whom something is shown, assigned, etc., the prefixing tenses use the acc.: ÍD GN li-ka-al-li-mu-ka ‘let them show you the Gabûm canal’ (AbB 4, 74:10f.). In all the attested cases from OB letters, the SC is P, with the Experiencer as the syntactic subject: (1) itâm ša kirîm ša ibaššû išariš ul ku-ul-lu-ma-nu ‘We have not been properly shown the existing boundary of that garden’ (AbB 14, 91:28f.); (2) ittī-kunu bā!erūtam e[pē]šam ku-ul-lu-mu-ma taprik-am-ma ana bā!erūtim epēšim [ul t]addin-aššunūti ‘They have been assigned to do the fishing with you, but you were a hindrance and did not allow them to do the fishing. < Let them (now) do the fishing!>’ (AbB 11, 112:18–22, Stol’s translation); (3) kīma šattišam ku-ul-lu-ma-ta ‘As you experience each year’ (AbB 7, 169:9f.),12 (4) kīma ištu labirtim É-ti na-ap-¢a-ri-ia šisâm u a¶ītam lā ku-ul-lu-mu ul tīde ‘Do you not know that from of old my guesthouse has never been “shown” summons and extraordinary duties?’ (AbB 2, 97:1–5, cf. CAD K 523a). The SC P appears a few more times in stereotyped adverbial kīma-clauses: ‘have votive gifts made kīma ku-ul-lu-ma-ta as you have been assigned’ (AbB 9, 182:22), ‘the rites of the seventh day, kīma ku-ul-lu-ma-a-ta as you have been instructed, perform!’ (AbB 14, 50:10′), ‘bring garlic and onions kīma ku-ul-lu-mu as it has been prescribed’ (AbB 2, 99:14).13 These are all the examples in OB letters I am aware of. One token is known from an OB physiognomic text: šumma awīlum pa-ga-ar ši-ru-šu pū´am ku-ul-lu-u[m]-ma u nu-uq-di itaddu ‘if a man’s body/flesh14 shows white spot(s) and is dotted with nuqdu-marks’ (AfO 18, 66:42).15 A syntactic analogy with the letters allows one to interpret the first clause of the protasis as ‘if his flesh is shown/assigned white spots’ Afroasiatic grammatical reconstruction, there can be no saying whether the Berber evidence reflects the situation in a Berber-Semitic proto-language. 12 Kraus translates ‘Wie du alljährlich hast erleben lassen,’ but without an (at least implicit) personal object this translation does not really make much sense. Note that in AbB 7, 177:10 Kraus restores ki-ma ša-at-ti-ša-am ku-ul-l[u-ma-ta] ‘Wie du alljährlich erlebst.’ This usage is passive, ‘you are shown.’ 13 The last example is exceptional. If I understand it correctly, it does not quite belong here. The clause seems to be “impersonal,” as against kīma kullumāta ‘you (ms) have been prescribed/told.’ In other words, the syntactic subject of this kullumū is no Experiencer, but rather an unnamed Agent. 14 According to the Edition, pa-ga-ar ši-ru-šu ‘is a mistake of the scribe or a gloss showing a variant from a duplicate.’ 15 The translation “shows” appears both in the Edition (Köcher and Oppenheim) and CAD K 521.

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(i. e., by a deity), but this is by no means certain.16 In OA, the SC has not been found, while the prefixing tenses are well-known, especially in the meaning ‘to produce a tablet’ (CAD K 521f.). ↓ In (2), the SC appears with the sequencing conjunction -ma within the narrative part of the letter, which makes a genuinely resultative reading hardly possible. In (3) and (4), the time adverbials šattišam and ištu labirtim exclude the resultative interpretation of the SC. Thus, at least in these cases the SC is used instead of the regular past tenses of kullumum. No VA. (39) labāšum ‘to put on clothing’ The SC in the sense ‘to wear clothing, to have clothes, to be clothed, to be covered’ is common, cf. CAD L 17f. The following keen observation in the discussion section of CAD L 22 is especially valid for the OB and OA: labāšum G is used in the SC only (‘to wear’), while the prefixing tenses (‘to put on’) and the infinitive are usually supplied by the Gt forms of the same root. The SC of Gt is not in use in OB and OA letters.17 ↓ This suppletion probably has to do with the fact that ‘to wear’ is a stative notion, while ‘to put on’ is a telic one.18 That the G-stem of labāšum exists only in the guise of the SC is a retention: ‘to put on’ is usually expressed by litbušum, the causative sense ‘to clothe’ by lubbušum (CAD L 22). Thus, both indirect reflexive and causative for this root acquired explicit morphological markers, with the resulting ousting of the prefixing forms of labāšum G from Akkadian.19

16

CAD K 521b brings a similar example with the Pres. (SB Alu): ‘If the eyes of an ox … pū´a ú-kal-lam show the whites’ (CT 40, 32rev.:17). 17 According to Kouwenberg forthcoming 14.3.4, in SB the SC forms litbuš and labiš interchange freely, since in this corpus “the number of lexicalized Gtstems increases drastically.” The t-Perf. of nalbušum (ittalbaš) fills the slot of the non-existing t-Perf. of litbušum (CAD L 19, 22), because t-stems do not usually form the t-Perf. 18 Cross-linguistically, these concepts are often expressed by different roots, as in English, cf. e. g. also Spanish traer ~ ponerse, Russian nosit’ ~ nadevat’. In Syriac, they are expressed by different stems of the root lbš, in the way reminiscent of Akkadian: ‘he wears’ is usually l®īš (a conjugated resultative adjective), while ‘he (has) put on/will put on’ is often coded by the finite verb forms of t-stems (PS 1888, CSD 235). 19 The meaning of ilbaš/*ilabbaš was ‘to put on,’ i. e. indirect reflexive (fully alive in BH lā®aš (lā®ēš)/yilbaš). It was supplanted by the Gt stem because the latter is an overt exponent of the detransitive meaning (indirect reflexive is a particular

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VA labšu ‘clad, arrayed,’ attested predominantly in SB lexical texts within a compound labiš kitê ‘linen-wearer’ (a temple official). (40) lapātum ‘to touch; to affect; to write down’ The SC is frequent in A readings and common in P readings, which might be expected of certain low-transitivity more-than-one-place verbs. Cf. the following examples of the A usage in OB: awīlû … la-a[p-t]u-ni-inni ‘die Männer … haben mich angegriffen’ (AbB 8, 22:3ff.), ana alpim PN u PN2 la-ap-tu-ni-a-ti ‘PN and PN2 keep bothering (?) us on account of the ox’ (TIM 2, 78:49 = CAD L 86a, tentatively accepted in AbB 8, 78:49 ‘greifen uns hart wegen (dieses) Rindes an’), tamû qaqqad ilī-šunu la-ap-tu ‘they have sworn, they have touched the head of their god’ (MDP 24, 337rev.:12 = CAD L 85a, OB Susa). In OB, the P reading is well attested for the meaning ‘to water,’ ‘to smear a surface with a liquid’: ¢ēm eqel GN mala mê la-ap-tu šupram … u ¢ēm eqel GN2 mala eršu u mê la-ap-tu šupram ‘schreibe mir einen Bericht über das Feld in GN, wieviel bewässert ist … schreibe mir auch einen Bericht über das Feld in GN2, wieviel bestellt und wieviel bewässert ist’ (AbB 6, 114:19–25), šumma martum damam la-apta-at ‘if the gall bladder is smeared with blood’ (YOS 10, 31 xii 11). Cf. also an OB example for the meaning ‘to affect,’ with the cause participant in the accusative: barley kalmatam la-pi-it ‘is infested by vermin’ (AbB 14, 56:21). This P usage is well-known in OA: ni-ša-me-ma TÚG.ÚI.A sá-sá-am lá-áp-tù ‘we have heard that the textiles are moth infested’ (CTMMA I, 77:7ff.);20 kīma šīmum ša akkidīyē lá-áp-tù-ni ‘since the trade in Akkadian textiles has been affected (I have not sent you any)’ (TCL 1, 2:11f., tr. of Veenhof 1972:377). In Kültepe, the P reading in the meaning ‘to be written down, recorded, entered into a document’ is ubiquitous, e. g. ‘x silver ina ¢uppim labīrim la-ap-tù are recorded on the old tablet’ (TCL 21, 184:6), šu-um-šu i-na É kà-ri-im lá-pí-it ‘sein Name ist im Karum-Haus eingetragen’ (Prag I 482:6f.). In OB, the SC is also used in the meaning directly derived from the VA (‘to be bad, evil-portending, abnormal, anomalous’): têrētum mādiš la-ap-ta ‘the exta are very anomalous’ (ARM 2,

manifestation of the detransitive meaning, along with direct reflexive, reciprocal, passive, etc.). The SC labiš survived just because the SC is in itself detransitive, so in this case there was no need to renew the morphological shape. Kouwenberg forthcoming counts labāšu with “middle verbs” (3.5.2.4, 18.3.1, with references to earlier literature on this kind of verbs in Semitic). 20 See Michel 1998 for more examples of this kind.

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39:64), šumma bamtum imittam la-ap-ta-at ‘if the thorax is abnormal on the right side’ (YOS 10, 48:41), see more examples in CAD L 88b.21 ↓ The above contrast in interpretations between ‘haben mich angegriffen’ and ‘greifen uns hart’ is required by the respective contexts, its grammatical justification presents no problem, since lapātum is a ‘takinghold-of ’ verb with an “active” trans. SC of the eqlam ´abtāku type. This means that its temporal interpretation may be either PERFECT-RESULTATIVE or PRESENT-STATIVE, depending on the context. The lastmentioned meaning of the SC ‘to be abnormal’ does not belong with the rest of its meanings, here we come across a homonymy of sorts: lapit ‘is abnormal’ is a genuine conjugated verbal adjective (in the same sense as lū awīlāta ‘be a gentleman!’ is a conjugated noun), it has no prefixing finite forms at its side, while all the other tokens of the SC discussed in this entry are members of the finite paradigm of lapātum, their relationship to the rest of finite forms is transparent: eqlum mê lapit ‘the field has been irrigated’ vs. eqlam mê luput ‘irrigate the field!’ (see CAD L 86). VA laptum ‘injured; affected (by disease); unfavourable (of omen).’ (41) lupputum ‘to touch, to smear, to write, to tarry’ The SC has much the same kind of readings as that of lapātum. In OB, the P reading is frequent in extispicy protases: DIŠ ´ēlum ša imittim damam lu-pu-ut ‘if the right rib is smeared with blood’ (YOS 10, 47:86). In Kültepe, both A and P readings for the meaning ‘to write’ are attested: me-e¶ra-at ma-mì-tim … a-na kà-ri-im lá-pu-ta-nim ‘the copies of the oath have been written down for the kārum’ (CCT 4, 30a:8ff.), AN.NA ša i-na ¢up-pì-im lá-pu-ta-ku-ni ‘(the amount of ) tin for which I have been entered into the document’ (CCT 4, 1a:10f.), na-áš-pè-er-tám [ša a-n]a ´é-er I-li-a [Puzur4]-Ašur lá-pu-tù ‘was das Schreiben betrifft, [das Puz]ur-Aššur [a]n Ilīja geschrieben hat …’ (Prag I 661:18–20). The meaning ‘to tarry, to be delayed’ (CAD L 92) is attested only in OB (OA renders this sense with sa¶ārum), cf. an example of the SC with this meaning: ištu inanna UD.5.KAM … lu-up-pu-ta-a-ku ‘I am going to stay (here) for another five days from now’ (LHarm 1:37ff.). Among the many individual senses of lupputum, this is the only intransitive one. Most probably, it first arose in the SC via a semantic shift of the ‘to be touched’ meaning, and later this

21 Ilya Khait (RSUH, The Pushkin Museum of Fine Arts) suggests me in a p. c. that YOS 10, 48:41 and its likes might have to be interpreted as ‘smeared (with blood),’ i. e. they are a kind of shorthand for damam lapit.

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new meaning developed its own prefixing tenses: ¢uppi bēlīya ú-la-ap-pítam ‘the tablet of my lord was late (arriving) here’ (ARM 2, 106:14). The VA lupputu (SB ‘damaged, soiled’) also developed its own SC ‘to be anomalous (said of ominous features)’ (CAD L 91): bēlī īde kīma têrētum lu-up-pu-ta ‘my lord knows that the extispicies are anomalous’ (ARM 10, 87:9). (42) lawûm ‘to move in a circle, to surround’ In OB, the Pres. is hardly ever used to express contemporaneity with a reference point. Kouwenberg counts lawûm among verbs that “have an active stative with more or less lexicalized meanings”: lawû ‘to lay siege to,’ Stat. ‘to besiege’ (i. e., ‘to lie around (a city)’; Kouwenberg forthcoming 7.3.2). In OB letters, the SC seems to be productive in both P and A trans. readings: ālum GN la-wi (ARM 6, 65:8), dūrum šul¶êm la-wi ‘the wall is surrounded by an outer wall’ (ARM 6, 29:16), inanna bēlšu ištu 3 MU lawi-ma ‘and now his lord has been under siege for three years (and still he has not come)’ (ShT, p. 79:59f.), ālam GN ša PN la-wu-ú PN i´´abat ‘the town GN that Išme-Dagan was besieging Išme-Dagan has captured’ (ARM 1, 4:5–8). A similar usage is well attested in divination apodoses, e. g. āl la-wi-at ana libbi-šu terrub ‘you will enter the city which you are besieging’ (RA 27, 142:2). In OB divination protases, the SC is attested in what appears to be an intrans. non-passive sense: šumma qut[rinnum] alākšu ana [imittim] la-wi … šumma qutrinnum alākšu ana šumēlim la-wi ‘if the drifting smoke circles to the right …’ (PBS 1/2, 99 ii 1–7, transl. as in CAD L 70). This token of the SC looks like a fientive one.22 P tokens of the SC are frequent in OB divination protases, e. g. DIŠ ur!udum šēram lawi ‘if the trachea is surrounded with flesh’ (YOS, 10 36 iv 21). In OA, I was able to find only the Imv. and the Proh. of this verb, with the transitive meaning ‘to wrap’ (CAD L 75b, Prag I 718:22). VA lawûm ‘besieged; fenced.’ (43) leqûm ‘to take’ In OB letters, the SC A is common. It is routinely used to render the notion ‘X (has) received something’, often a specified amount of barley or silver: 97 ŠE.GUR ana 80 ŠE.GUR ša elīya taršû le-qí-a-ti ‘You have received 97 kor of barley for the 80 kor of barley that you held against me’ (AbB 9, 105:15ff.), ištu annikīam kaliāku 3 GÍN KÙ.BABBAR ana šamaššammī ana ¢ātim 22

Yet, cf. šumma qutrinnum alākšu ´alim ‘if the smoke’s trail is black’ (PBS 1/2, 99 i 17).

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le-qí-a-ku ‘while I stay here, I have collected 3 shekels of silver as “fee” for the linseed’ (LH 13:21–25). Additional tokens of this kind are e. g. AbB 8, 81:9–12; 9, 110:14; 12, 29:7; 14, 15:11; LH 23:6. This usage is formulaic in OB documents of private law from Susa (CAD L 135).23 The SC A appears in non-technical contexts, too: PN dīnam šuāti ul l[e-q]í ‘PN does not accept that verdict’ (AbB 11, 7:22f.); ammīnim būram [l]e-qú būram šū´i ‘Warum hat man das Kalb weggenommen? Gib das Kalb heraus’ (AbB 8, 9:8ff.), in Mari once with an inanimate subject: me¶ir ¢uppi annîm kanīk LUGAL le-qí ‘the copy of this tablet has (got) the king’s seal’ (ARM 22, 252:7f.),24 so it may have been productive for different shades of meaning.25 Importantly, I have found only two unambiguous P tokens of the SC in the core OB: zikarum ša le-qù-ú ‘a boy who is an adoptee (= who was “taken”)’ (AbB 14, 114:22, the main gloss is that of Veenhof ), našpakum ina nēreb KÁ i-[b]i-ru pate¶-ma šeum le-qí ‘Der Speicher am Eingang des Ibiru-Tores ist durchbohrt und Gerste ist (heraus)genommen’ (AbB 6, 219:14f., beginning of a quoted letter).26 The resultative nature of both these examples is questionable. A Mari example comes from an administrative document: ‘a certain amount of silver ša ka-ni-ik-šu i-na É.GÁL-lim la le-qú whose receipt has not been accepted (or ‘received’?) in the Palace’ (ARM 9, 254:14f.). In Kültepe, only two tokens of the SC A have been found, both nonresultative: 2 GÍN KÙ.BABBAR a-na TÚG ša-mì-šu lá-qí ‘2 S. Silber hat er für den Kauf eines Stoffes genommen’ (Prag I 429:31), ma-nu-um [k]i-ma i-a-tí i-na KÙ.BABBAR da-nu-tim e-na-ni-ki-i lá-qé-e ša a-wi-lim a-bu-šu ú um-mu-šu lá e-pu-šu ‘Wer ist da, der wie ich mit hartem Silber deine Bitten erhört? Des Herrn Vater und Mutter tuen (es) nicht!’ (Prag I 662:26′–29′).27 The 23 Kouwenberg forthcoming 7.3.2 notes that the SC of leqûm is often used in legal contexts referring to “ownership of commodities that someone is entitled to and has received.” 24 I am grateful to Dr. Ilya Arkhipoff for kindly alerting me about this example. 25 In the case of ARM 22, 252:7f., the real-life situation could be more easily expressed by an explicitly passive construction, because “in reality” the tablet was sealed with the king’s seal. 26 AbB 7, 33:17f. a-šar le-qú-ú li-iš-¢ú-ra-am ‘wo er weggenommen ist, soll er mir aufschreiben!’ is poorly understood, and AbB 14, 114:22 is not quite transparent. 27 The clearly habitual sense of lá-qé-e reminds one Yahdunlim’s šēmi ikribī le-qí unnēnim ‘the one who listens to vows, accepts prayers’ (Syria 32, 12 i 12, and see CAD L 136b for more examples of this noun phrase), yet the syntax of Prag I 662:26′–29′ leaves no doubt that here we deal with a “real” SC verb form rather than predicative form of a Participle (cf. Kouwenberg forthcoming 8.4.1 for a

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SC P has been found in the following OA texts: 6 TÚG ku-ta-ni i-na sà-e-tim a-šu-mì PN1 ù PN2 lá-qí-ú ‘6 kutānu-textiles have been taken from the sa!utum in the name of PN1 and PN2’ (OAA 1, 111:13 ff. = CCT 4, 13a), 7 ½ TÚG ku-ta-nu a-na ša-du-e-tim lá-qí-ú ‘7 ½ kutānu-textiles have been taken for the transport tariff’ (ibid. 16 f.); 1 ½ GÍN KÙ.BABBAR ša A-bu-šalim iš-tí Da-da-a ú-lá lá-qí ‘1 ½ Sekel Silber des Abu-šallim sind von Dadā’a nicht genommen’ (KUG 22:16–19); KÙ.BABBAR ša lá-qí-ú ‘silver that has been taken’ (CCT 5, 25b:16). Thus, the lá-qé-e of Prag I 662 is the only “non-technical” example found in OA, but this of course may be due to the nature of the extant Kültepe archives and incompleteness of my search results. Leqûm is the head of a well-known idiomatic verb phrase whose direct object is šē¢ūtu ‘contempt, disdain,’28 the whole being ‘to hold somebody in contempt.’ From the examples quoted in the dictionaries (AHw. 1222a, CAD L 145b, Š2 345a), it follows that, with leqûm used in the prefixing tenses, šē¢ūtu takes possessive pronouns pointing to the patient, e. g. ši-¢ù-us-sà la te-le-qé ‘do not despise her’ (AbB 3, 90:9). When the head is used in the SC, it can agree either with the patient, ma-ma-an ša ¢up-pì-a ú KÙ.BABBAR-pì a-na a-wa-tim lá i-de8-ú šé-¢ù-tí lá-qé ‘Whoever has not deposited my tablets or my silver for (my) cause, is contemptible (lit. ‘takes my contempt’) (BIN 6, 99:12–16 = Michel 1991, No. 99), or with the noun šē¢ūtu: šē¢ūt-ī le-qí-a-at ‘ich bin verachtet’ (lit. *‘my contempt is being taken’ = ‘I am a target of contempt’) (AbB 5, 160:10′). In the vernacular dialects outside of the corpus, the SC P is exploited mostly by the Assyrian legalese: it occurs in set expressions uppu laqi ‘it is acquired and taken (into possession)’ (MA legal documents, cf. CAD A2 202b; L 140b), ´arip laqi ‘it is sold and taken over’ (NA legal documents, cf. CAD Ô 105b), once in Middle Assyrian Laws (§ 44: ana šīm gamer la-qíu-ni ‘(the one who) is taken for the full value’), and more times in MA and NA legal documents (CAD L 140a, see also AHw. 545a under “St. Pass.”). ↓ The fact that in OB letters the SC of leqûm, a transitive verb, is attested almost exclusively in A readings requires explanation. The evidence can be accounted for by the suggestion in Loesov 2006:138: P resultative readings of the SC usually describe those P states that are “obthoroughgoing syntactic description of the “Participle” as a habitual agent noun). The e-vocalism of this word is enigmatic anyway. The plene-writing may render a prosodic feature, though this orthographic reflection of the “question intonation” has so far been described for OB only. The string e-pu-šu is a Pres. eppušū. 28 Curiously, the noun does not seem to be attested outside of this expression.

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servable” at the reference time.29 If this is true, the number of verbs with productive and semantically predictable (non-lexicalized) SC P reduces drastically. In Loesov 2006:136–140, I put forward (with the above explanation) a list of some frequent and semantically basic high-transitivity verbs whose SC P is very rare or not attested at all in predictable meanings. One of the verbs from this list was dâkum ‘to kill.’ Now, Kouwenberg forthcoming 7.3.3 discusses “Marginal and secondary uses of the stative” (i. e., essentially, its dynamic use as a perfect/preterite), and one of his prime examples is dīk, which “means ‘he has been killed (and therefore is now dead)’ and simply describes the condition of the subject. However, the inclusion of a specification of the time and/or the place of death shifts the attention from the present state to the previous event . Therefore, the stative is used as a perfect here.”

One of the instances K. produced is AbB 13, 181:31f. (ina mit¶uri 1 mār GN di-i-ik ‘one man from GN was killed in the clash’), the very text I mentioned (Loesov 2006:136) as about the only token of dīk in the core OB, i. e. outside of Mari. The only other known instance from AbB 1–14 is 8, 24:19; this token of dīk is also dynamic and past-time, as pointed out in Kouwenberg forthcoming 7.3.3. This leaves us with no genuinely resultative use of dīk in the whole of the core OB corpus. The two P tokens of the SC of dâkum in OB just mentioned are not resultative by the criteria of Kouwenberg, and therefore the requirement of “being observable” (I would say, of Anschaulichkeit) does not apply to this use of the SC. This Anschaulichkeit-criterion makes the availability of the resultative SC P heavily depend on the lexical semantics of a given trans. verb. The “past-tense” interpretation of the SC30 is valid also for a part of the attested SC forms of leqûm, including some of the above examples.31 Obviously, the state of 29

Cross-linguistically, resultative (i. e., roughly, past-tense passive) participles are more often than not employed when they stand for “observable” properties. I could illustrate this with the following made-up English examples: “a broken hand/my hand is broken” is OK, while “a kissed hand/my hand is kissed” is bizarre. 30 About this use of the SC, both A and P, see also Loesov 2005:133f. and the literature referred to there. The “past-tense” SC can correspond functionally to the English Present Perfect, Simple Past and Past Perfect. 31 Simply put, adverbials of past time and locative expressions dependent on a verb form are incompatible with a purely resultative sense, and this situation is somewhat analogous to the way words like ‘yesterday’ are incompatible with the English Present Perfect. For a detailed discussion, see Kouwenberg forthcoming

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“being-taken” is hardly ever observable, therefore the SC P of leqûm is not particularly frequent, the passive of leqûm being coded by the N-stem, which looks productive in both OB and OA (see CAD L 147). Note that the MA and NA P usages mentioned above are all technical and (in this sense) idiomatic. No proper VA, except for a noun leqû ‘adoptee’ in SB lexical texts (CAD L 130f.). Again, this fact is explained by my Anschaulichkeit-criterion, as applied to resultative adjectives. (44) ma¶ārum ‘to accept, receive, meet’ In OB, the SC A is common in legal passages of letters, it means ‘somebody has (got) something’ (cf. Kouwenberg forthcoming 7.3.2 with a reference to Rowton 1962, see examples in these studies and CAD M1 53). Otherwise, semantically more or less predictable tokens of the SC A are rare, they appear in literary texts. Cf. an example from the Etana epic: erû ma-¶i-ir ukultam kīma ni-ši-im na-e-ri emūqam īšu ‘the eagle took food, he gained strength like a raging lion’ (Bab. 12, pl. 12 vi 3f. = CAD N1 151a).32 In the rest of A tokens, the subject is inanimate: dummuqtum maa¶-ra-su ‘happiness is waiting for him’ (Kraus Texte 62rev.:9, an OB physiognomic text), šumma ši-pu-um ti-bu-um ma-¶i-ir33 ‘if the “footmark” is equal to the t.’ (YOS 10, 50:13 = CAD T 390b, a technical usage in extispicy). Note an idiomatic verb phrase X īnam (+ POSSESSOR) ma¶ir, lit. ‘X meets somebody’s eye,’ i. e., ‘X pleases, is acceptable to somebody,’ which is attested mostly in OB (CAD M1 64). Within this phrase, the Pres. can also appear: ina kīm inanna ´ēnū nasqātum īnam ul i-ma-a¶-¶a-ra ‘right now (even) the choice sheep look terrible’ (AbB 14, 77:7ff., Veenhof ’s translation). The SC P has not been found in OB letters, the only example known to me comes from divination: hni-qí LÚ iti-ti DINGIR hmai-¶i-ir ‘the sacrifice of the man has been received by the god’ (YOS 10, 17:1 = Jeyes 1984:43).

7.3.3. Sure enough, this use of the SC is etymologically secondary, yet whether it is marginal in the corpus, is not obvious. 32 CAD E 158b has ‘the eagle, having been fed …’, N2 196a has ‘the eagle, receiving food …,’ both interpretations are inferior to the above one. Speiser’s translation (ANET 114) ‘the eagle, having received the food … gained strength’ is to my mind the most precise of the four, since Speiser singles out this non-trivial use of ma¶ir by means of the English Perfect Participle. 33 Sic, no accusative in this sentence!

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In OA, the SC is rare. The only semantically unbound (non-idiomatic) token I have found is an instance of legal (or “business”) A use so typical of OB: mì-ma a-nim ša Lu-lu i-na ša 12 ma-na ta-da-num-ma? [Ú-sà]-nim ma¶i-ir ‘tout cela (appartient) à Lulu. [Usā]num (l’)a reçu sur ce qui est des 12 mines (d’argent) à remettre’ (TPAK I, 147a:11–14).34 ↓ Semantic shifts of the kind šīmam am¶ur ‘I received the purchase price’ > šīmam ma¶rāku ‘I have the purchase price’ are described in Kouwenberg forthcoming 7.3.2 as development of lexicalized meanings.35 I fully agree with K. that the SC tends to lexicalize, yet ma¶ir, leqi and their likes are not the most interesting instantiations of this tendency. First of all, certain Akkadian verbs show more unpredictable semantic shifts from the prefixing tenses to the SC; these shifts are especially characteristic of the technical language of divination, e. g. ekim ‘is stunted, atrophied’ (ekēmum ‘to take away’), ma¶i´ ‘is flattened’ (ma¶ā´um ‘to hit’), šakin ‘there is’ (šakānum ‘to set’); cf. also the rare instances of amer and alik ‘he is familiar’ in OB epic texts (amārum ‘to see,’ alākum ‘to walk’). Second, the fact that resultative forms of “taking” verbs may denote “Haben” (Ungnad 1918, to whom K. refers in this connection)36 looks as a rather expected one, though it probably still remains within the compass of lexicalization concept. This particular meaning shift has a reliable typological parallel in Aramaic. Kutscher 1973:269, within an outline of early Medieval Aramaic, notes that “in all dialects the passive participle ‫ קטיל‬seems to be employed with certain verbs in the active voice , e. g., ‫‘( טעין‬carrying’).” In ancient Aramaic, q¢īl- is the base of the G-stem resultative participle, used mostly as a passive predicate. What Kutscher has in mind are in particular some verbs of “taking,” as his example shows. Thus the Syriac ¢"īn (lit. ‘[he is] loaded’) and šqīl (lit. ‘[he is] lifted up’) often appear in text

34

My search results are by no means definitive, yet they do reflect the situation in OA relative to OB. Note that for the idiom X īnam ma¶ir CAD M1 64 books only one OA example, while the instances from the core OB and Mari are numerous, and their list in CAD was hardly meant to be exhaustive. 35 K. points out similar semantic shifts also for the SC A of leqûm, ´abātum, and našûm. 36 In this five-pages note, A. Ungnad described the basic meaning of the SC as follows: “… müssen wir doch stets im Auge behalten, daß der Permansiv seiner Grundbedeutung nach d e n je n i g e n b e z e i c h n e t , a n d e m e i n e H a n d l u n g z u m A b s c h l u ß g e k o m m e n i s t …” (p. 281), i. e., Ungnad believes the SC is a diathesis-neutral resultative verb form and shows this in his note. It is amazing how far ahead of his time Ungnad was, in fact, ahead of some contemporary writers on the SC.

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in the sense ‘he holds, he is carrying/bringing, he has.’37 As all predicative adjectives, these participles take phonologically reduced post-positive subject pronouns of the 1st and 2nd persons: b-ī¯ay ¢"īn-nā ‘I hold (it) in my hands.’38 It is also worth notice that leqûm and ma¶ārum display their famous productive “Haben” A readings of the SC in OB, but not in OA. A natural explanation will be that these are technical usages of law and business that developed within OB. In business OA, the corresponding senses must have been expressed by different exponents. VA ma¶rum ‘received.’ (45) mâtum ‘to die’ The SC is common in both OB and OA; it is better attested in OA, and often appears in the syntactic slots of the Perf. or Pret.,39 while a purely resultative usage of mēt is also well known in OA (unlike that of the SC P of dâkum in the whole of our corpus): ANŠE.ÚI.ru-kà me-tù ‘Deine Esel sind tot’ (Prag I 426:11), 1 ANŠE me-et (ibid. 22), and passim in the accounts of gains and losses. Death of humans is often reported in the same way, e. g. PN me-et ší-im-tù-šu ú-lá i-ší-im ‘PN has died without having left his last will’ (BIN 6, 2:3ff.), lā libbi ilim-ma aššitī me-ta-at ‘alas, my wife has died’ (TCL 4, 30:4); cf. same kind of usage in a conditional clause: šummamin meta-ku ‘if I had died/if I were dead’ (TCL 19, 32:30). An instance of the SC in a typically preterital slot: ½ TÚG i-nu-mì DUMU.MUNUS-sú me-ta-at-ni a-na PN ú-šé-bi4-il5 ‘½ Stoff habe ich, nachdem seine Tochter gestorben war, zu PN geschickt’ (BIN 4, 141 = Ulshöfer 1995, No. 397:143), and see also e. g. KUG 35:8, Prag I 648:7. Actually, the Pret. of muātum seems to be underrepresented in OA “in favour” of the SC. The Perf. has not been found in main clauses. In OB, unlike in OA, the t-Perf. is well attested in main clauses, it is used oftener than the Pret., and this unusual evidence might be explained by a “middle” (or, better, “unaccusative”) lexical meaning of this verb coupled with the etymologically “middle voice” nature of the t-Perf.

37

Cf. also a very telling example from Mandaic, quoted in Nöldeke 1875:381, w-ngydy-l trysar malakia ‛und 12 Engel ziehen es’ (NGD ‛to draw, to lead forth’). 38 See Goldenberg 1998:610 for references to the grammars of Syriac that illustrate this feature, and for parallels with Hebrew. 39 Mâtum is another prime example of a verb with “improperly” used SC apud Kouwenberg (forthcoming 7.3.3). His evidence comes from OA, MA, and SB.

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(Loesov 2004:162–172),40 cf. a curious sentence from an OB letter wherein the grammatical subject gets the accusative case, and the t-Perf. appears in an unexpected syntactic position within a narrative: am-tam ša ana šūbulim ana ´ērīka im-tu-ta-an-ni ‘the slave-girl who was supposed to be sent to you died on me’ (AbB 2, 87:10f.).41 In the core OB letters, the SC seems to be rarer than in OA, yet it is also attested in preterital slots: ištu ITI.1.KAM šerrum ina libbīya mi-it-ma ‘the child in my womb died a month ago’ (ABIM 15:10). In OA and OB, there are a few tokens of the Pres. that can be construed as depictions of ongoing telic events (“somebody is dying”), yet for my study they are a moot point both for typological reasons (Loesov 2005:112, with an OA example) and because a prospective interpretation cannot be excluded for all of them on contextual grounds. CAD M1 422b offers a new reading (coll. F. Köcher) of the OB letter VAS 16, 88:17: u anāku ina ¶é-ep libbi mi-ta-a-ku ‘and I am dying from a broken heart’ (cf. AbB 6, 88), but it does not look secured, since ¶í is almost unattested as a syllabic value in AbB 1–14, and the context does not really help to establish the meaning of this sentence. ↓ Kouwenberg forthcoming 7.3.2 counts mâtum among change of state intransitive verbs whose SC may resemble what K. calls “adjectival statives” (ibid.). This is perhaps the reason why mīt-/mēt- is productive in purely resultative usage, although it does not meet the criterion of Anschaulichkeit. VA mītum ‘dead.’ (46) qerēbum ‘to be near; to approach’ The stem vowel of this verb is unstable: OB iqrab—iqarrab and iqrib— iqerrib,42 OA iqrub—iqarrub (CAD Q 228, Kouwenberg forthcoming 3.3.3, 3.5.3, 17.3.3.2), the SC is qerub (OB), qurub (OA).

40

And cf. Kouwenberg forthcoming 6.4 on the etymology of the t-Perf.: “For the time being, we can say little more than that the rise of the t-perfect is likely to be related to the autobenefactive meaning of the t-infix, but further details remain completely obscure.” 41 This text was also commented upon in Loesov 2004:118f. and Kouwenberg forthcoming 6.3.1. 42 According to CAD Q 228a, a/a is “OB lit.,” according to Kouwenberg forthcoming, it is “early OB.”

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In OB letters, the SC has dozens of attestations (cf. CAD Q 228–230 for a selection), in Kültepe I have found only one token in addition to those four booked in AHw. 915a and CAD Q 229b.43 ↓ Both dictionaries stick to the uniform rendering of the SC as a stative predicate. AHw. 915a has ‘St. ist nah, in der Nähe’ as the gloss for the first sub-entry of qerēbum, the same tactics (‘is close’ and similar translations) is accepted in CAD Q 228–230. In both dictionaries, SC tokens populate, just on their own, entire sub-entries for individual meanings. All this may be understandable in view of the assumed semantically deadjectival nature of qerub/qurub, revealed formally by its “adjectival” vocalism. But a closer look shows that in both dictionaries an oversimplification in the arrangement of the evidence might have occurred. An alarming fact is that no reliable token of the Pres. has been found in either OB44 or OA letters, though the Pres. of qerēbum is expected to code the progressive sense ‘is/was approaching.’ Indeed, the nature of our sources does not impede expressing this nuance of meaning: in letters, one mentions approaching/proximity of seasons, troops and other entities moving in space or time. Therefore I suggest that the SC of qerēbum has both stative and dynamic readings, depending on the context and lexical meanings of the respective grammatical subjects. Thus, šadûm qéru-ub ‘das Gebirge lag nahe’ (AbB 8, 92:27) is stative.45 Yet, in dUTU-ši-dIM u ummānātū-šu qé-ru-ub ¢ēmum annûm li¶mu¢ (AbB 8, 15:40–45), the SC codes a situation that “in real life” is dynamic, ‘Šamši-Adad with his troops is approaching, (therefore) this message is to be delivered rapidly.’ 46 Additional instances of this kind can be easily found in the dictionaries. If 43

KÙ.BABBAR.áp-kà qú-ru-ub ‘Dein Silber ist nahe’ (Prag I 483:25). This passage is similar to ŠE ù KÙ.BABBAR ú-ul qé-er-ba-am-ma ‘wenn Silber oder Gerste mir nicht zur Verfügung steht’ (AbB 1, 118:13); this may have been a lexicalized usage of qerub/qurub in the business Akkadian (‘to be available’), and cf. CAD Q 230b e. 44 My search result agrees with Kouwenberg forthcoming 3.3.3, fn. 57: OB iqarrab “is inferred from sporadic OB iqrab” (cf. ana ¶iāriš iq-ra-ab in CT 15, 5 ii 8 = CAD Q 234b). 45 It is likely that CH 8:15 šumma … šībū-šu lā qer-bu also belongs here, because, as I will try to show below, the SC of qerēbum encodes either a “pure” state or an atelic process, while its capacity to denote a resultative state is questionable due to the atelic nature of the root. Thus, I understand this clause as ‘if his witnesses are not around,’ in spite of the parallelism with šumma … šībī-šu lā irdi-am in the same § 13. One has to bear in mind that the SC of certain verbs can be used in the slots of the Perf. and the Pret., yet this is not the case with qerēbum. 46 See Charpin–Durand 1997:379–381 for a new historical interpretation of this letter.

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the ongoing event of approaching is regularly encoded by the SC, essentially a non-fientive verb form, this is because the Pres. of qerēbum is unable to express the idea (for an attempt to explain this, see the forthcoming discussion chapter). Looking at the compatibility of “moving” subjects of qerub with prefixing tenses of verbs expressing motion towards a landmark, one notices that these are invariably verbs other than qerēbum. For example, consider ebūrum ‘harvest time’ as subject: kīma tīdû ebūrum qé-ru-ub ‘as you know, harvest time is near/approaching’ (AbB 11, 151:4f., cf. an almost identical text in 12, 34:13) vs. ebūrum wuddi i¢-¢à-¶i-a-am ‘harvest time has definitely arrived’ (ShA 1, 59:24), ebūrum iktašd-am ‘harvest time has come’ (ARMT 13, 35:6), ebūrum lā ikaššad-am ‘die Erntezeit soll nicht anbrechen!’ (AbB 1, 117:15), and a similar verb phrase with the SC: ebūru kašid-nâti ‘die Erntezeit ist für uns angebrochen’ (AbB 3, 49:12). An instance from OA is sikkātum (pl.), a noun with poorly understood meaning:47 tuwār sikkātim qú-ru-ub ‘the return of the s. is imminent’ (TCL 14, 37:15 = CAD S 252a)48 vs. sí-kà-tum da-na a-dí-ni lá i-tù-ra-nim ‘die s. sind heftig; bis jetzt sind sie noch nicht zurückkehrt’ (Prag I 565:5ff.), adi 2 [ūmi] sí-kà-tum iturrā-nim ‘the s. will return within two days’ (Ka 259:2, quoted in CAD S 252), and cf. a-dí 2 U4-me sí-kà-tum i-pá-¢á-ra-nim ‘bis in 2 Tagen werden die s. aufbrechen’ (Prag I 598:9f.).49 What then about prefixing forms (other then the Pres.) of qerēbum in letters? — The Pret. has been found only in MHET 1, 88:12 (kīma e-eq-ri-bu kīam iqbi ‘this is what he said when I approached’) and ARMT 27, 162:7 (qāssu ana pīšu iqri-ib ‘sa main s’est approchée de sa bouche’). The t-Perf. has been located only within one phrase used twice by the same writer from Mari: (inanna) ebūrum iq-te-er-ba-am ‘(now) the harvest time has arrived’ (ARMT 27, 30:21′; 37:28). The only prefixing forms found in Kültepe are the two tokens of the Prec. liqrub-am ‘let (the principal/my caravan) arrive’ booked in CAD Q 232b 2′. Short supply of prefixing forms for future and past-time references requires an explanation. My suggestion is as follows. Lexically, qerēbum is 47

CAD S 252b follows the opinion that sikkātum “possibly refers to a military expedition or the army,” yet K. Hecker (KUG, p. 105, cf. Prag I, p. 158) has shown that this interpretation is not plausible, he believes “daß es sich um ein Fest handelt.” 48 Syntactically, sikkātum is here a dependent in a subject noun phrase, but this fact does not affect the gist of the present discussion. 49 Note that the SC of qerēbum in its motion readings assumed here does not take the ventive (unlike the SC of some other motion verbs), while all the prefixing verb forms in the above examples do have the ventive.

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an atelic motion verb, it is more in the way of ‘to get nearer/closer’ to a goal, ‘to approach’ it than ‘to arrive’ (= ‘to reach a goal’), and therefore it is more at home when the event of motion towards a goal is considered from an imperfective viewpoint.50 Now, the above-mentioned prefixing forms of Akkadian, including the future-time Pres., always have perfective readings (Loesov 2005). For this reason, the Pret./Prec., t-Perf., and future-time (perfective) Pres. of qerēbum are rare.51 For the letter-writers of our corpus to use the prefixing tenses of qerēbum was to overstrain the atelic meaning of the root, there emerged a conflict between the lexical root meaning and the aspectual meaning of the respective inflectional bases. As for the ongoing atelic approaching, it is encoded by the SC, by far the most frequent finite form of qerēbum in the epistolary corpus.52 For this verb, the contrast between the present-time SC and (rarely used) perfective future-time Pres. can be visualized by the following pair of examples from the OB divination apodoses: U4-ma-tu-šu qé-er-ba: ‘(If a man is distinguished by beautiful hair the end of ) his days is near/approaching’ (AfO 18, p. 63:18) vs. šumma naplaštum ana padānim iq-te-er-ba-am tu-ruku-tum ana šarrim i-qé-er-ri-bu-nim-ma a-PI-EL-šu ekallam ibêl ‘If the spy-hole has approached the path, the Turukkeans will approach the king, and then their man/his heir will take over the palace’ (YOS 10, 11 ii 14–17). The suggestion that the SC of a motion verb should code an ongoing event of movement at all might look bizarre, yet it is to a certain extent corroborated by the OA verb phrase naš!-am ‘he is carrying (something) to where you are’ (Loesov 2005:128ff.) and the observations on the SC of ¢e¶ûm ‘to approach’ below. Cross-linguistically, this situation has a nontrivial parallel in the Modern Western Aramaic (MWA).53 This language has a resultative (etymologically denominative) verb form with the base

50

For previous research on the semantics of qerēbum, see Kouwenberg 1997: 234, 399. 51 AbB 11, 39:9′ (a-qè-er-r[u-ba-ak-ki-im] ‘I will travel to you’) would be the only token of the future-time Pres. I have found in letters, yet the restoration of the Edition is not 100% reliable, and the GI sign (= qè) is an unusual means of rendering [qe] in this verb. 52 The lack of the ventive on the SC of qerēbum in its (as I believe) motion readings is probably also related to the basic atelicity of this verb. The (in)compatibility of the ventive with inflectional forms of motion verbs depending on their aspectual and lexical properties requires a special study. 53 The most recent description of its phonology and morphology is Arnold 1990.

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*qa¢īl54 for two-place verbs, and *qa¢¢īl55 for one-place and certain lowtransitivity two-place verbs (e. g., šm" ‘to hear’ and µmy ‘to see’). The *qa¢īlbased resultative forms may get, as in Akkadian, both active and passive readings, e. g., ču "zimil-laµ ‘they have not invited us’ vs. ču ne"zem ‘I am not invited.’ The Present-Future base of the MWA verb is *qā¢il. Yet, some frequent intransitive motion verbs of the MWA use the resultative base *qa¢¢īl for ongoing events contemporaneous with a reference point, and *qā¢il for future references only: nnaffīq ana l-elbar ‘I am going outside (now)’ vs. ču nnōfiq ‘I will not go out’ (nfq ‘to go out’; for additional examples and a list of these verbs, see Correll 1978:65). D. Cohen (1984: 502) observes that in these motion verbs *qā¢il functions ‘comme un futur et d’autre part pour le passé et le présent comme un habituatif,’ and this constitutes an isogloss with the functions of the Akkadian iparras as described in Loesov 2005. Both Ch. Correll and D. Cohen believe that this shift has to do with the imperfective connotations of the resultative verb forms, and I share this opinion. In this respect, the most serious difference between Akkadian and the MWA is that the latter possesses two allomorphs of the resultative base, depending on the lexical meaning of the given verb. VA qerbum ‘near.’ (47) sanāqum ‘to arrive, to reach, to check, to put pressure on’ The SC is frequent in OB and rare in OA. To explain its grammatical properties, it would be important to understand how the rather disparate lexical meanings of this verb evolved. One solution is to posit the motion sense ‘to arrive, reach, approach’ as the primary one (probably with CAD, which lists motion readings first).56 For this sense, the SC was not found in OB, one token (with an inanimate subject and metaphorical sense of motion) is known in OA: ú U4-ma-am sí-ki lá tù-kà-al U4-mu-ú sà-an?-qú-ni-ati ba-a-am iš-tí-a a-dí a-limki a-ku-ul ‘And today do not detain me. It is high time for us (lit. ‘the days have reached us’)! Come, eat with me (on the way) to the City’ (CCT 4, 39a:9′ff.). Otherwise, sanāqum is often used as a verb of telic motion in OB, e. g. kīma is-sà-an-qú-ni-ik-kum ‘when they reach you’ (AbB 14, 4:16). CAD S 139b 5a) singles out the following meaning: ‘(in the stative) to be adjacent to, next to,’ with OB examples from mathemati54

Historically, qa¢īl is a proto-Aramaic passive participle of the G-stem. Etymologically, qa¢¢īl is a productive adjective formed from intransitive verbs in Middle Aramaic languages. 56 In SB incantations, the verbs sanāqum, kašādum, qerēbum, ¢e¶ûm could be used together to enhance the ‘let the evil not come’ idea (cf. CAD S 136b). 55

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cal and divination texts. The examples cited in CAD look like resultative tokens of the SC in its motion sense: 1 (BÙR)iku lū sà-ni-iq ‘one bur has to border (on one side of the dividing line),’ i. e. ‘let one bur reach …’ (AOS 29, p. 45 B 5, cf. CAD S 140a for more examples of the same kind in problem-texts), il-šu u ištar-šu ul sà-an-qú-šu ‘his god and his goddess are not near him,’ i. e., lit. ‘have not reached him’ (AfO 18, p. 64 i 38). The meanings ‘to check’, ‘to put pressure on’ may have been derived from the telic motion meaning of sanāqum. Here belong four stereotyped P tokens of the SC from LH and one A token from AbB. I will start with the latter, already mentioned in Loesov 2005:124f.: PN annikīam sà-ni-iqni-a-ti-ma alākam ana ´ēri-ka ulā nile!!e ‘PN is checking on us here and we cannot come to you’ (AbB 9, 88:6–11, translation follows the Edition). In Loesov 2005, I opted in this case for “checking” rather than “pressing”57 for a somewhat dogmatic reason: I believed that Present-Time activities (= agentive atelic processes) are coded by the Pres., while Present-Time telic events are coded by the SC. In the meantime, my case-studies of frequent verbs show that the relationship between the lexical meaning of verbs and the inflectional base they choose to code the Present-Time sense is more complex. Yet, the trouble with saniq-niāti in AbB 9, 88 is that neither this short letter nor lexicographical data really help to establish the meaning of the passage. But a comparison with OB anāku annikīam sanqāku usages from Ešnunna (see below) and the above motion contexts allow one to suggest that we are dealing here with a technical term of law or administration. Although its exact import escapes us, I propose that this term is indeed related more to “checking” than to “pressing” and that it is derived from the motion meaning, i. e., “PN has reached PN2 and is now doing something to him.” Note that annikīam ‘here’ makes resultative interpretation of ‘PN annikīam saniq-niāti’ unlikely,58 while a purely past-time reading of this sentence is also not very plausible in the context. Thus, there are reasons to assume a present-time dynamic (and most probably telic) sense for this saniq-niāti, in accord with my initial suggestion in Loesov 2005. Now I will look at the corresponding P 57

Pace CAD S 140b: ‘PN is pressing us here so that we cannot go to you.’ Cross-linguistically, genuine resultative verb forms are (due to their semantics) hardly compatible with deictic spatial adverbials. Consider the German intransititive resultative form of the verb (sich) betrinken ‘get drunk’ Ich bin betrunken. Ich bin hier betrunken is hardly ever used (except perhaps for emphasis), anyway this sentence cannot render a message similar to that of Ich habe mich hier betrunken. (I thank Dr. Maria Bulakh for discussing with me certain subtleties of the German usage.) 58

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tokens from LH that occur in letters penned by different writers and addressed to (as it seems) their peers: anāku annikīam sa-an-qa-ku (7:20f.), annikīam sa-an-qa-nu-ma ni-ib-te-e-ri! (20:10ff.)59, anāku sa-an-qa-ku-ma alākam ul ele!!i (42:8f.), anāku annikīam sa-an-qa-ku-ma ul alli[kam] (46:4ff.). Most likely they are passive transforms of active constructions represented in the corpus by the above “PN annikīam saniq-niāti(-ma alākam ana ´ērika ulā nile!!e).” Again, the regularly appearing annikīam is hardly compatible with resultative reading of the respective SC tokens (‘I am/have been SNQ-ed’), while the stereotyped nature of these verb phrases and almost complete lack of further details (e. g., reasons of being ‘hard pressed’60 etc.) make plausible my suggestion that this SC form developed a dynamic technical reading, i. e., ‘I/we undergo SNQ-ing,’ probably a well-known bureaucratic procedure.61 Finally, for the assumed meaning ‘to check’ one P token with an inanimate subject is available in OA: ¶urā´am addiššum-ma lā sà-ni-iq ‘I gave him the gold but it was not checked’ (BIN 6, 189:24 = CAD S 138b). VA sanqum ‘checked, verified.’ (48) ¢e¶ûm ‘to come near, approach’; ‘to add to’ (trans.) The SC is frequent in both trans. and intrans. meanings. The intrans. variety of the SC has both stative and dynamic readings. The only example of the latter from OB letters is as follows: ana eqlim šuāti mamman lā ¢e4-¶ia-amvent. ‘(daß) mit besagtem Felde niemand zu schaffen haben soll’ (AbB 4, 125:14). Lu-Ninurta represents the situation he prohibits as a telic (or a punctual) event of motion: ‘nobody has to approach this field!’ The “third-party” goal ventive probably serves to enhance the dynamic nature of this verb form. Within the same archive, the very same concept is usually expressed by a stereotyped Pres.-based prohibitive, without the ventive: PN a-na eqlim šu[āti] lā i-¢e4-e¶-¶i-i ‘PN soll sich mit besagtem Felde nicht zu schaffen machen!’ (AbB 4, 87:2′), and see also e. g. 4, 159:6′ (la i¢e4-e¶-¶i); 9, 189:12 (la i-¢e4-e¶-¶i); 11, 165:21 (la t[e]-¢e4-e[¶]-¶i-a ‘youpl. 59

The signs sequence ni-ib-te-e-ri! is taken (with CAD B 119) to mean ‘we are constantly hungry,’ i. e. with an emendation and against the Edition. 60 So CAD S 140b. 61 N. J. C. Kouwenberg informs me in a p. c. that in his view the original meaning of sanāqum is ‘to pinch, to squeeze.’ In this case the motion sense of sanāqum (‘to arrive, reach’) would be derived from ‘pressing’; it seems that W. von Soden held a similar opinion, cf. the arrangement of the sanāqum entry in AHw. 1021 and the assumed etymological Semitic parallels suggested there.

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should not touch [the field’]); with a different goal/semantic object: mamman lā i-¢e-e¶-¶i-šu-nu-ši-im ‘niemand soll ihnen nahetreten’ (8, 115:7′). The “indicative” Pres. appears in OB letters only with future reference: bēlī ana GN qadum gamarat ummānātīšu i¢-¢e-¶i-a-amvent. … ištu inanna ana UD.20.KAM i-¢e4-e¶-¶i-a-amvent. ‘my lord has approachedPf GN with all his troops … within twenty days he will approachPres here’ (TIM 2, 15:13–19 [AbB 8, 15] = CAD à 74b),62 ištu inanna ana ITI UD.30.KAM e-¢e-¶i-a-kum ‘within a full month from now I will come to you (UET 5, 82rev.:12′ = CAD à 72b), see also ShT, p. 34:37; ARM 10, 4:19 (in a figurative sense). In divination protases, at least one token of the Pres. is attested, in “competition” with the SC: šumma ¢ulīmum … ina bamat G[ÙB(?)] i(?)-¢e4-¶i-i ‘if the spleen comes close to the left side of the chest’ (RA 67, 42:41′ = CAD à 74b). In the six stereotyped protases of YOS 10, 46 i 11–35, ¢e¶ûm appears in the SC form with the ventive, e. g. šumma TUKUL imittim ina rēš martim ubān lā ¢e4-¶i-a-am šakim-ma šumēlam ina¢¢al ‘if the right weapon is not approaching the top of the gall bladder, lying one finger distant from it’ (YOS 10, 46 i 11ff.).63 In OA, the Pres.-based prohibitive is well-attested: a-na ba-áp!-pí-ri64 É Šu-Ištar ma-ma-[an] lá i-¢á-¶i ‘let nobody approach the “beer breads” of the Šu-Ištar household’ (CCT 3, 14:27ff.), see also e. g. Prag I 437:6 (lá i-¢á¶i). In one instance, the negated Pres. codes a habitual situation within the ‘negative asseverative form’ marked by the subjunctive morpheme (E. Cohen 2005:19, cf. GKT 233d): dA-šur ù DINGIR.ÚI.A-ú-ni li-¢ù-lu mama-an a-na KÙ.pí-kà 1 GÍN la i-¢á-¶i-ú ‘let Aššur and our gods witness: nobody does ever touch even a shekel of your silver’ (KTS 2, 45:28–31); in another instance this very form refers to the future: adi kaspam ša DN uštabbû mamman lā i-¢á-¶i-ú ‘until he has been paid the silver of DN in full, no (other claimant) will approach (it)’ (CCT 4, 37b:14).65 The Pres. is also

62 “He will approach here” is no idiomatic English. The sense is doubtless “he will arrive here,” “he will come.” See above on the complementary distribution of the SC qerub and the prefixing forms of other motion verbs, in particular ¢e¶ûm. 63 I thank Ilya Khait for sharing with me his transliteration and translation of YOS 10, 46 i 11–35. The above translation is essentially in agreement with that of I. Khait. Winitzer 2006:414 interprets this text quite differently: ‘If the weapon of the right—not reaching a finger (in length)—is situated in the head of the gallbladder it faces the left …’ I do not quite understand this rendering. 64 The reading is with Michel 2001:462, note d to No. 339. 65 Hirsch 1961:50b, CAD Š2 255a and Schwemer 2001:15 translate this verb form as if it were a prohibition (‘nobody may approach’ and the like), which is

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used with future reference: KÙ.BABBAR a-qá-tim ša a-bi4-ni i-¢á-¶i ‘the silver will go to our father’s account’ (CCT 3, 9:14f.), a-na SÍG.ÚI.A ú-lá a-¢á-¶i ‘I am not going to occupy myself with the wool’ (BIN 6, 76:5f., cf. Dercksen 1996:125–127, fn. 399), wa-dí a-li-tí-a ú-lá i-¢á-¶i-i ‘sure he will not approach me!’ (CCT 3, 7a:26f.).66 The SC is used in a stative sense, it is probably lexicalized as a technical term: ŠÀ.BA 5/6 ma-na LÁ 1 〈GÍN〉 KÙ.BABBAR ší-im KÙ.GI ¢á-¶i ‘davon ist 5/6 Mine minus 1 Silber, der Kaufpreis für das Gold, verfügbar’ (BIN 4, 148:34f. = Ulshöfer 1995, No. 67). Thus, neither the Pres. nor the SC of this verb are attested in letters in the sense of the ongoing Present. Tentatively, I suggest that this evidence may have to do with the “achievement” (punctual event) sense of the root. The SC of ¢e¶ûm in its trans. sense ‘to add to’ has the expected passive meaning ‘is added’ in both OB and OA (see CAD à 78). No VA. (49) ¢u¶¶ûm ‘to conduct, to bring near, to hand over; to add to’ Neither the Pres. nor the SC are used for the ongoing present-time events. The only SC token that CAD à has under the motion glosses (‘to conduct’ etc.) is from an OB divination: šumma ina išid martim pi¢rum šakimma ana zumriša ¢ù-ú¶-¶u ‘if there is a fissure at the base of the gall bladder and it is close to its (the gall bladder’s) body’ (YOS 10, 31 xii 31 = CAD à 80b). For the meaning ‘to add to’ the passive SC form ‘is added’ is well attested in both OB and OA (see CAD à 80b–81a). In OA, the SC is common in a lexicalized meaning ‘to have something to do (with),’ ‘to have a claim,’67 which is unknown for the prefixing verb forms and appears only in the context of negations or a question word fully justified by the context, yet the author represents the prohibition as an affirmative statement. 66 Why is there no ventive? 67 CAD à 81 ‘to involve (someone), to make (someone) concerned’; the gloss is not felicitous, since the sub-entry does not bring a single causative context and has no verb forms other than the SC. EL II 192–193, fn. 2 is nearer to the mark: ¢a¶¶ûm can be used (along with other possibilities) “6) im passivisch wiederzugebenden Permansiv … mit dem Subjekt der Person und dem—meistens zu subintelligierenden— Objekt der Sache mit der Bedeutung ‘einer Sache nahegebracht sein’, ‘mit einer Sache befaßt sein’, ‘an einer Sache teilhaben’, ‘an einer Sache Anrecht haben’.” It is a pity that the authors of the last volumes of CAD more or less discontinued discussion sections and references to lexical observations in earlier literature.

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mīnam ‘whatacc.’: PN lá ¢á-¶u ‘PN has no claim (on the goods mentioned above)’ (BIN 4, 194:21), ú šu-ut lá ¢á-¶u ‘while he has no claim’ (KTS 2, 37:17′), mīnam ¢á-¶u-a-ku ‘what is it to me?’ (CCT 4, 5b:10), lá ¢á-¶u-a-ku ‘it is none of my business!’ (CCT 3, 46b:9), and cf. a-na-ku ú-lá lá ¢á-¶u-aku (ibid. l. 17), a-ta lá ¢á-¶u-a-tí (BIN 6, 92:24). For the rare instances of the VA in NB and SB, see CAD à 123f., ¢u¶¶û A (if it belongs here) and ¢u¶¶û B. References Arnold 1990 Binnick 1991 Charpin–Durand 1997 Cohen, D. 1984 Cohen, E. 2005 Correll 1978 Dahl 2004 Dercksen 1996 Goldenberg 1998 Hirsch 1961 Huehnergard 1997 Jeyes 1989 Kouwenberg 1997 Kouwenberg 2000 Kouwenberg forthcoming Kutscher 1973 Loesov 2004

Arnold, W. Das Neuwestaramäische. V. Grammatik. Wiesbaden. Binnick, R. Time and the Verb. A Guide to Tense and Aspect. New York–Oxford. Charpin, D.; Durand, J.-M. Aššur avant l’Assyrie. MARI 8:367–391. Cohen, D. La phrase nominale et l’évolution du systéme verbal en sémitique. Etudes de syntaxe historique. Leuven–Paris. Cohen, E. The Modal System of Old Babylonian (HSS 56). Winona Lake. Correll, Ch. Untersuchungen zur Syntax der neuwestaramäischen Dialekte der Antilibanon. Wiesbaden. Dahl, Ö. The Growth and Maintenance of Linguistic Complexity. Amsterdam. Dercksen, J. G. The Old Assyrian Copper Trade in Anatolia. Leiden. Goldenberg, G. Studies in Semitic Linguistics. Selected Writings. Jerusalem. Hirsch, H. Untersuchungen zur altassyrischen Religion (AfO Bh 13/14). Graz. Huehnergard, J. A Grammar of Akkadian (HSS 45). Atlanta. Jeyes, U. Old Babylonian Extispicy. Omen Texts in the British Museum. Leiden. Kouwenberg, N. J. C. Gemination in the Akkadian Verb (SSN 32). Assen. Kouwenberg, N. J. C. Nouns as Verbs: The Verbal Nature of the Akkadian Stative. Or 69:21–71. Kouwenberg, N. J. C. The Akkadian Verb and Its Semitic Background. Winona Lake. Kutscher, E. Aramaic. Encyclopedia Judaica 3:257–287. Loesov, S. T-Perfect in Old Babylonian: The Debate and a Thesis. B&B 1:83–181.

S. Loesov, Akkadian Sentences about the Present Time (II/2) Loesov 2005 Loesov 2006 Michel 1991 Michel 1998 Michel 2001 Nedjalkov ed. 1988 Nöldeke 1875 Rowton 1962 Schwemer 2001 Streck 2006 Ulshöfer 1995 Ungnad 1918 Veenhof 1972 Winitzer 2006

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Loesov, S. Akkadian Sentences about the Present Time (I). B&B 2:101–148. Loesov, S. Akkadian Sentences about the Present Time (II/1). B&B 3:133–148. Michel, C. Innāya dans les tablettes paléo-assyriennes. II. Édition des texts. Paris. Michel, C. Les Mites d’Assyrie. Moths in the Assyrian Texts of the Second Millennium B. C. JAOS 118:325–331. Michel, C. Correspondence des marchands de Kaniš au début du IIe millénaire avant J.-C. Paris. Nedjalkov, V. (ed.). Typology of Resultative Constructions. Amsterdam–Philadelphia. Nöldeke, Th. Mandäische Grammatik. Halle. Rowton, M. The Use of the Permansive in Classic Babylonian. JNES 21:233–303. Schwemer, D. Die Wettergottgestalten Mesopotamiens und Nordsyriens im Zeitalter der Keilschriftkulturen. Wiesbaden. Streck, M. Altbabylonische Grammatik mit Grundwortschatz, Übungen und Chrestomathie. Leipzig (a manuscript). Ulshöfer, A. Die altassyrischen Privaturkunden. Stuttgart. Ungnad, A. “Haben” im Babylonisch-Assyrischen. ZA 31:277–281. Veenhof, K. Aspects of Old Assyrian Trade and Its Terminology. Leiden. Winitzer, A. The Generative Paradigm in Old Babylonian Divination. PhD. Diss. Harvard University. Cambridge (MA).

The Enclitic Particle -mi within the Framework of Old Babylonian Epistemic Modality—A New Understanding* Nathan Wasserman Hebrew University of Jerusalem

The enclitic particle -mi is generally considered in Assyriology as a marker of direct, or reported speech. In this paper I wish to claim that there is much more in this particle than was hitherto realized. In what follows I will present a new understanding of this particle and suggest that -mi has undergone a process of functional reassignment which led it, by the middle of the OB period, to assume a new role, that of a modal particle. I will argue further that the original task of this particle was not entirely abandoned, but was retained in literary texts, with some modification. The full documentation and discussion, as well as the description of the syntactic behavior of -mi is found in my forthcoming monograph on OB epistemic modality. Here I will limit myself to the main conclusions. I. The bulk of examples of -mi, gathered from OB sources, call for some initial observations. First, the number of attestations of -mi in OB is not very high. The total number of attestations of -mi is a little over 120, in about 70 epistolary and literary texts. Even if some examples have slipped my attention, these figures fit well within the framework of the attestations of the main OB modal particles: pīqat, midde, wuddi, anna, tuša, kīša, -man, and assurrē, namely between 20 to 200 attestations for each particle. These figures are much lower than what one would expect, had -mi been a quasi-automatic marker of direct speech. Another observation concerns the almost even distribution of the attestations of this particle between the epistolary and literary texts (37 passages vs. 32 passages respectively). The reason for this situation—which is unique, as other modal particles are predominantly found in letters—is that -mi went through a historical process until it attained its modal role. Because it was not originally modal, its distribution is different than that of other OB modal particles, showing no preference to epistolary texts.

* The following is a shortened version of a chapter on the particle -mi in my monograph titled Most Probably. Epistemic Modality in Old Babylonian (forthcoming).

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II. Let us commence by examining briefly the previous views regarding -mi. von Soden rendered this particle as introducing cited direct speech.1 CAD offered a more general designation, stating only that this particle “indicat[es] direct speech.”2 Most Akkadian grammars oscillate between the two options: Ungnad–Matouš,3 Reiner,4 Huehnergard5 and Buccellati,6 to name only a few, all hold the view that -mi denotes direct speech, or cited direct speech. So do most text editors and commentators.7 Some scholars, however, took another way.8 The most interesting suggestion was raised by Finet,9 who suggested that -mi is a by-form of the omnipresent particle -ma, in the surrounding of direct speech.10 Suggestive as it may be, this idea must be rejected. A careful perusal of the available material proves that there are many cases of -ma in surroundings, where, according to Finet, one would expect -mi.11 More importantly, there are clear cases where -ma and -mi are concatenated, resulting in -mami,12 or even -mi-ma,13 thus proving that -ma and -mi do not preclude each other paradigmatically. In fact, the two particles operate on different lev-

1

In GAG §§ 121b and 123c, von Soden listed this particle with other particles that introduce cited direct speech (“Einleitung der zitierten direkten Rede”). 2 CAD M2 46 s. v. 3 Ungnad–Matouš 1964:110, § 96. 4 Reiner 1966:104. 5 Huehnergard 1997:136. 6 Buccellati 1996:366, § 65.5. 7 E. g. AbB 14, 195, n. c); ARM 26/2, 58, n. h); ARM 26/2, 60, n. e). 8 As Groneberg (1997:92, n. 52) who suggests that “die Partikel -mi betont hier den Vokativ”, having in mind, presumably, the (different?) particle -mē (GAG § 123d). Farber (1996) also raised some doubts as to the common opinion about -mi as designating direct speech. 9 Finet 1956:281, § 100h. 10 “Dans les discours rapports, la particule enclitique -ma se presente parfois sous la forme -mi…” Groneberg (1997:51, n. 171), commenting on a line in the lament Ištar-Louvre, goes in the same direction: “-mi steht hier wahrscheinlich für -ma.” Similar view expresses Lipiński (2001:483, § 49.8) regarding this particle in El-Amarna letters: “…the enclitic particle -mi which is a variant of -ma.” 11 E. g. George 2003:180 (Gilg. P. vi 232–234): den-ki-du10 a-na ša-ši-im / is-sàqar-am a-na dGIŠ / ki-ma iš-te-en-ma um-ma-ka / ú-li-id-ka ‘Enkidu said to him, to Gilgameš: “As one unique your mother bore you…”.’ 12 ARM 28, 145:12′–18′; Livingstone 1988, p. 177, ll. 33–34; AbB 1, 27:6–9; AbB 7, 8:5′–12′; AbB 10, 57:6–28; AbB 11, 172:6–17. See also the OAkk. example in Sommerfeld 2000, p. 423, l. 28. 13 ARM 26/1, 12:5′–15′.

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els: -ma functions on the syntagmatic level, creating logical dependence between two clauses, while -mi sheds a modal coloring on the statement. III. -mi in Epistolary Texts. A fresh and impartial examination of the evidence shows that the particle -mi in epistolary texts does not fundamentally indicate direct or reported direct speech. No doubt, these surroundings are necessary for the appearance of this particle, but the role of -mi is not to mark it. In order to substantiate this unexpected statement one may simply look at the scores of examples of reported speech without -mi. This particle is thus certainly not a necessary indicator of direct speech.14 Its paucity and irregular appearance in OB letters show that not only is it not obligatory; it is not even an optional indicator of direct speech.15 It follows that—if not a relic—the particle -mi must carry another meaning that is activated in the surroundings of direct speech, answering specific needs of the speaker. Looking at the data from the stand-point of epistemic modality, I determine that -mi in OB letters denotes the non-commitment of the speaker to his words, creating distance between the speaker and the contents of the report embedded in his speech. By using -mi the speaker indicates that he is not responsible, and not vouching for the words or deeds of the “I” reported by him.16 This function, which I label as SPACER, stands in relation to other modal particles in the system, especially wuddi, anna, and lū ittum, which serve as strong committing particles, through which the speaker wishes to stress the validity of his arguments. Thus, the reason that -mi is found only in reported direct speech is because this environment, more than others, calls for different mechanisms of PERSPECTIVIZATION, similar to Konjunktiv II in German, which is used to express doubt, uncertainty, a contrary-to-reality condi-

14 Just one example, out of many other possible: AbB 13, 21:4 and 18, where a long and detailed reported speech is framed between the two identical phrases kīam ulammidanni, “thus he informed me.” No -mi is used. 15 As designated by Buccellati (1996:366, § 65.5). A case in point is the attestation of -mi in CH. This particle appears thrice in § 9, where it is followed by iqtabi, proving as it were, according to the common opinion, that -mi is a marker of a reported direct speech. However, there are 11 cases of similar reported direct speech in CH, also indicated by iqtabi, without -mi (§§ 47, 126, 141, 142, 159, 161, 168, 170, 171, 192, 282). This situation tells clearly that, at least in this text, the function of -mi is not merely to mark a direct speech, but something else. 16 Palmer 1986:134, 163–167; Goldenberg 1991:87–88.

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tion, or to indicate that “what is said or was said… is not part of the writer’s or speaker’s own statement.”17 Consider text (1): (1) ARM 1, 118:4–14: p¶a-ar-da-nu-um LÚ.SIPA aš-šum ÁB.[ÚÁ] / ma-¶aar ik-šu-ud-ap-pa-šu im-¶u-[ra-an-ni] / um-ma šu-ma ÁB.[Ú]Á ša É.GAL-lim ba-né-[tum] / im-ma-aq-qú-[ta] / a-na 1 li-im 2 me-at ÁB.ÚÁ 3 LÚ-ka-pa-[ru] / it-ti-ia-mi iz-za-az-[zu] / ul-li-iš mi-im-ma ú-la-mi i-b[a°-aš-še20] / ù ba-lum LÚ.SIPA.MEŠ i-na -´a-ri-[im] / ip-lu-šu-ma 5 ÁB.ÚÁ i-na ma-a-[tim] / ú-šé-´ú-ú / ù 5 ÁB.ÚÁ UR.MAÚ i-na gišTIR u[l°-li-it] ‘Hardānum the shepherd turned to me (Yasmah-Addu) through Ikšud-appašu concerning the cows, saying: “the nice cows of the palace are negligently treated. For 1200 cows (only) three shepherd-boys serve with me-mi. Soon (reportedly) none-mi will be left. And (as) there are not (enough) shepherds (to accompany the cows to pasture) they have made a breach in the enclosure and let five cows go out to the country (alone) and a lion devoured (those) five cows in the wood”.’18

Yasmah-Addu reporting here to Samsī-Addu, about what Ikšud-appašu told him as received from the chief shepherd, Hardānum. Ikšud-appašu was clearly not happy to announce the lamentable situation of the royal cows, as was also probably Yasmah-Addu, who knew well the fits of his father. Ikšud-appašu expressed his separation from the words of Hardānum by using -mi, making it clear that he is not committed or responsible for the content of this report. Next, text (2): (2) ARM 10, 129:1–20: [a-na f]ši-ib-tu / [qí-b]í-ma / um-ma be-el-ki-i-ma / eš-me-e-ma fna-an-na-mì / sí-im-ma-am mar-´a-at / ù it-ti É.GAL-lim / ma-gaal wa-aš-ba-at-ma / MUNUS.MEŠ ma-da-tim it-ti-ša-ma / i-sa-ab-bi-ik / i-naan-na dan-na-tim šu-uk-ni-ma / i-na ka-ás i-ša-at-tu-ú / ma-am-ma-an la iša-at-ti / i-na gišGU.ZA ša úš-ša-bu / ma-am-ma-an la úš-ša-ab / ù i-na gišNÁ ša it-ti-il-lu / ma-am-ma-an la it-te-e-el-ma / MUNUS.MEŠ ma-da-tim / it-ti-šama / [l]a i-sa-ab-bi-ik / [sí-im-m]u-um šu-ú mu-uš-ta-a¶-¶i-zu ‘Say to Šībtu, this is your lord: I have heard that (reportedly) Nannâ-mi is sick with the simmum-disease, and that she frequents the palace a lot, and that many women were in contact with her. Now, give strict orders so that nobody should drink from the cup she drinks; nobody should sit in the chair she sits; nobody should sleep in the bed she sleeps, so that she will not be in contact with the many women who are with her. This simmum-disease is contaminating!’19

17

Palmer 2001:113. See Durand 1997:48. 19 Durand 2000:1164. 18

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Here Zimrī-līm is turning the attention of his wife to a sick woman in the palace. By employing -mi the king makes it clear that his knowledge of the matter is not based on an official report, but on overhearing, the validity of which is not certain.20 Another example, text (3): (3) ARM 5, 59:1–21: a-na be-lí-ia ia-ás-ma-a¶-dIM / qí-bí-ma / um-ma / ITI tam-¶i-ri U4 21-KAM BA.ZAL-ma / ¢e4-ma-am iš-tu ia-anki!-¶aki / ki-a-am ub-lu-nim um-ma-mi / ´a-bu-um LÚ èš-nu-naki / i-na [k]abi-it-ti-šu / i-na ma-an-ki-siki / i-pa-a¶-¶u-ur / ù da-nu-um-ta-¶a-az-mi / it-tišu / [Í]D i-bi-ir-ma / a-[na] ra-pí-qí-imki-mi / [i]-la-ak / [¢e4-ma-a]m-ma ša ana ra-pí-qí- i-la-[k]u / [ú-ul] ú-ki-nu-nim / [ú]-ka-nu-nim-[m]a / [a]ša-pa-ra-a[m] / a-na ši-i la ši-i / ¢e4-em-ka lu ´a-bi-it {eTUMf} ‘Say to my lord Yasma¶-Addu, this is Warad-Sîn. Day 21 of the month Tamhirum has passed when they have brought (this) report from Yankiha: “The army of the sire of Ešnunna with (all) its might is assembling in Mankisûm, and (reportedly) Dannum-tā¶az-mi has crossed the river with them and he is heading to Rāpiqum-mi.” The report according to which he is heading to Rāpiqum they did not confirm. Once they will give me a confirmation (about it) I will write to you. This way or other—take your decision.’21 ÌR.dEN.ZU-ma

Warad-Sîn, Yasma¶-Addu’s high official, is passing on information about the advancement of the Ešnunneans, yet he is eager to distance himself from the unconfirmed detail about the presence of Dannum-tā¶az in the Ešnunnean camp, using -mi for this purpose. The epistemic function of -mi as a non-committing particle is evident by its opposition to kânum-D, “to confirm.” An interesting semantic aspect of -mi as a SPACER is that quite a few of instances of -mi concern unfortunate issues: death or disease (of cows/ lion/person),22 administrative misunderstandings and negligence,23 military or political bad news.24 This finding is only natural: one is more likely to wish to distance oneself from ill-fated news than from cheerful accounts. The following letter, text (4), demonstrates this nicely:

20

For in this case one would expect the name of the reporting source in the form of PN išpuranni, or some reference to a ¢ēmam wabālum, or the like (cf. Durand’s remark in Durand 2000:345, n. a). 21 Durand 1998:535. 22 ARM 1, 118:4–1; ARM 10, 129:1–20; ARM 14, 1:17–25; ARM 26/1, 275:5– 18; ARM 26/2, 304:37–46. 23 ARM 5, 9:5–19; ARM 26/1, 12:5′–15′; ARM 26/1, 16:4–15; ARM 26/2, 303:7′–17′; FM 1, 82:40–50; FM 8, 49:5–15; ShL 35:5–17; Ziegler 1999, 57:4–19. 24 ARM 5, 59:1–21; ARM 26/1, 140:1–40.

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Morphosyntax and Text Structure in Akkadian (4) ARM 26/1, 275:5–18: u4-um ¢up-pí an-né-e-em / a-na ´e-er be-lí-ia u-ša-bi-lam / psu-um-¶u-ra-bi / ki-ma la li-ib-bi i-la / la U4 1-KAM la °2KAM / [i]m-ra-a´ i-na U4-mi-im-ma ša-a-ti / um-ma-mi še-pí / mar-´a-atm[i] / a-di-ma še-pí-šu-x / um-ma-mi ri-i[t-ti] / mar-´a-a[t-m]i / ù qa-tam a-na qa-tim-ma / na-pi-iš7-ta-am / iš7-ta-ka-an ‘The day I sent this letter of mine to my lord, Sum¶u-rabi—god forbid!—became ill, not (even) one day, not two days (have passed), the very day he said: “my leg hurts!-mi” and soon after his leg he (said): “my hand hurts!-mi” and immediately he rendered his soul.’

The writer is anxious to keep himself apart from the disturbing event he reports, hooking -mi to the frightening words of the miserable Sum¶urabi, thus indicating: his leg, his hand—not mine; he died—not me, god forbid. IV. Turning to literary texts (royal inscriptions included) one finds out that, contrary to epistolary texts, in OB literary passages -mi does not function as a modal particle, which creates a distance of the speaker from his report. If not a SPACER, what then is the role of -mi in this sub-corpus? Obviously it has to do with direct speech, since -mi is found in this environment. But, as with letters, this observation has a limited value, since there are scores of examples of direct speech in literary texts without -mi.25 Analysis of the sources shows that what most of the examples of -mi in literary texts have in common is that they break the flow of narrative discourse by creating a sudden verbal turn, a direct address to a person (human or divine) who is present in the situation; briefly, -mi marks an APOSTROPHE.26 Hence, contrary to its modal role in letters, in literary

One example, out of many: George 2003:172 (Gilg. P. i 1–5): it-bé-e-ma dGIŠ šu-na-tam i-pa-aš-šar / is-sà-qar-am a-na um-mi-šu / um-mi i-na ša-a-at mu-ši-ti-ia / šaam-¶a-ku-ma at-ta-na-al-la-ak / [i-n]a bi-ri-it e¢-lu-tim ‘Gilgameš arose to reveal a dream, saying to his mother: “o mother, during the course of this night I was walking about lustily in the company of young men …” ’ (Trans. George). 26 A succinct, and adequate description of apostrophe is found in the Dictionnaire de poétique et de rhétorique: “Figure par laquelle l’orateur, au milieu de son discours, se détourne de son public pour s’adresser à quelque personne ou objet particulier. L’apostrophe peut prendre pour objet les êtres présents ou les absents, les vivants ou les morts, enfin des êtres animés ou inanimés…” (Morier 1989:123). The New Princeton Encyclopedia of Poetry and Poetics gives a somewhat different definition of apostrophe, which fits less to Babylonian literature: “A figure of speech which consists of addressing an absent or dead person, a thing, or an abstract idea as if it were alive or present …” (Perminger–Brogan 1993:82). 25

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texts -mi is a pragmatic device, marking a shift from narrative to conversational discourse. Consider text (5): (5) van Djik, Or 41 (1972):343–344 (VS 17, 34):1–13 (incantation for a cow in labor): ar-¶u-um e-ri-a-at ar-¶u-um ul-la-ad / i-na ta-ar-ba´í-im ša dUTU / sú-pu-ú-úr dŠAKAN / i-mu-ur-ši-i-ma dUTU i-ba-ak-ki / imu-ur-ši-i-ma el-la-am-me-e i-il-la-ka / di-i-ma-a-šu / am-mi-nim-mi dUTU i-ba-ak-ki / [e]l-lam-me-e i-il-la-ka di-ma-šu / [a-n]a ar-¶i-ia-mi la-a pe-tii-tim / ú-ni-qí-ia la wa-li-it!-tim / [ma-na]-am-mi lu-u[š-pu-ur] / [ù lu-w]ae-[er] / [a-na ma-ra-a]t a-ni-im se-bi ù s[e-bi] ‘The cow is pregnant, the cow is giving birth—in the pen of Šamaš, the fold of Šakan. When Šamaš saw her he was crying. When the “pure-of-rites” saw her, he was shedding tears. — “Why-mi does Šamaš cry, the ‘pure-of-rites’ shedding tears? For my cow-mi, not open (yet), my kid, (who did) not give birth (yet).” — “Whom-mi should I assign and send to the Daughters of An, seven and seven?” ’

This famous incantation opens with a short story. When the narrative flow breaks, -mi appears, marking the turn to the conversational mode, the address of the speaker to himself, through the mediation of the audience. Another example, text (6): (6) Charpin, Le Clergé d’Ur, 1986:327 (UET 6, 402):26–29: ka-a-ti ù ma-ru-ka / la a-¶a-ba-lu-ka-ma it-ma / DINGIR.E.NE an-nu-tum / lu ši-buú-a-mi iq-bi ‘ “I will not wrong you and your son(s)!” he swore. — “These gods (which are mentioned before) are my witnesses-mi!” he said.’27

In this literary letter a sequence of reported speeches are dependent on itma, “he swore,” none of which has -mi. The particle is attached only to the actual appeal to the gods present in the situation. Another clearcut example is text (7): (7) Groneberg, Lob der Ištar, 1997:81 (VS 10, 214) vii 20–22 (Agušaya A hymn): i-ga-at il-tum te-re-ta-ša ra-bi-a / be-le-et-mi la ip-ru-ku [x x?] / pa-ni-iš-ša ma-am-ma-[an] ‘She is a leader. The goddess, her decisions are great. — “You are the lady-mi!” No one ever opposed her.’

Or a passage from the stela of Dāduša of Ešnunna, where -mi marks the switch from the historical account to a hypothetical conversation be27

This example is valuable, since it is a letter to the god, namely formally a letter, but in fact a purely literary composition. As seen, in this text -mi is fully adherent to the behavior of this MP in literary texts, thus proving the literary character of this genre (see Wasserman 2003:178).

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tween a future evildoer and his collaborator (a motive which originates in Narām-Sîn28 and echoed in the epilogue to the Codex of Hammurabi29 and in Gilgamesh30), text (8): (8) Charpin, RA 98 (2004):155 xvi 3–6: ù aš-šum er-re-tim ša-ni-a-am / ú-ša-a¶-¶a-zu / [šu-um]-šu-mi ša-a¢-ra-am / pí-ši-i¢-ma šu-mi šu-¢ú-ur ‘And (if) because of the curse (on the stele) he will fetch someone else: — “erase-mi his written name and write my name (instead)”.’

So, again, -mi is marking a turn from narrative to conversational mode, an indicator of APOSTROPHE. V. Crucial for reviewing the history of -mi is to observe that in literary texts -mi tends to exclude verba dicendi. Only in five cases, out of all collected literary texts, does -mi follow a speech related verb.31 The collocation of -mi and qabûm is absent from all collected literary texts, further clarifying the issue. The reason for this exclusion must be that in OB literary texts, the basic meaning of ‘to say’ is embedded in -mi itself, rendering the verb qabûm redundant.32 A similar process was identified by Deutscher regarding the quotative umma: “the enma/umma clause initially encapsulated the meaning of speech … In the earliest Old Babylonian texts … umma appears after speech verbs such as ‘write’ … or ‘answer’ …, but it does not appear after the unmarked speech verb qabûm.”33 But this is only part of the picture, since the tendency for mutual exclusion of speech-related verbs and -mi is limited only to literary texts. In letters the situation is diametrically opposed: in most cases where -mi is found, it is dependent on a speech-related verb, usually qabûm. How are we to explain this polar situation? Allowing the OAkk. corpus into the discussion proves beneficial at this juncture. Fortunately, unlike other modal particles, -mi is relatively well documented in OAkk.: ten 28

Kienast–Sommerfeld 1994, p. 381, ll. 72–81 (Narāmsîn C 30). Driver–Miles 1952 II 96–98 (CH epilogue) rev. xxv 3–40. 30 George 2003:200 (Gilg. Y. iv 146–150), where Gilgameš hypothesizes on the future talk of people who will be amazed by his heroic deeds, after his death. 31 Frayne 1990, p. 669, ll. 8–12 (Ipīq-Ištar of Malgium) atwûm; Lambert 1989, p. 326, ll. 84–87 (lament-prayer to Anūna) šunnûm; George 2003:178 (Gilg. P. v 178) atwûm; Vogelzang 1988, p. 97, ll. 31–33 (Anzu) zakārum, 44–48 atwûm; Groneberg 1997, p. 81, vii 13–22 (Agušaya hymn) wuddûm. 32 E. g. Sigrist 1987, p. 85, ll. 4–7 (an incantation against a dog): a-nu-um-ma ana ša-ri-im / a-li-ki-im qí-bi-a-ma / ni-ši-ik ka-al-bi-im / me-ra-ni e i-ib-ni ‘Now say to the blowing wind: “May the dog’s bite not create puppies!”.’ 33 Deutscher 2000:73. 29

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cases of -mi in letters,34 and seven cases in royal inscriptions are known to me.35 In all of these texts -mi indisputably marks a direct speech, placed mostly after enma, and occasionally after the verb qabûm.36 In none of these texts can modal coloring be detected. One may therefore safely conclude that the original role of this particle in Akkadian was that of a strengthening marker of direct speech. More importantly, originally -mi did not carry any modal meaning, a role that can be found no earlier than the middle of the OB period—and only in letters. (From this viewpoint epistolary texts prove to be innovative, while literary texts show clear adherence to archaic style—a conclusion that indicates that OB letters were a dynamic segment of Akkadian, susceptible to novelties, perhaps even based on real spoken vernacular.)37 What caused this innovation, the introduction of the modal function of -mi? The answer must be connected to the changes that occurred in the language of letters, more specifically to the grammaticalization process of the quotatives umma and ummami. As put by Deutscher: “By the middle of Old Babylonian period, umma X-ma has established itself as the common and unmarked way of introducing direct speech. Direct speech without any marker, or with the enclitic marker -mi, becomes rare in the colloquial language of the letters, compared to the ubiquitous umma.”38 The pieces of the puzzle seem to fall in place now. Since umma and ummami became the main vehicles to introduce direct speech in OB letters, -mi could drop this discourse function. Once the particle was liberated, so to say, from its original role of marking direct speech,39 it could assume another—modal—role, that of a SPACER. In literary texts, by contrast, the role of introducing direct speech was not assigned to umma and ummami, so -mi had to retain its role of marking direct speech there. However,

34

Kienast–Volk 1995, p. 90, ll. 7, 22 (Gir 19); p. 143, ll. 12, 15 (Ki 2); p. 153, l. 4 (Di 1); 158:8 (Di 4); p. 160, ll. 4, 6 (Di 5); p. 169, l. 4 (Di 11); p. 175, ll. 6, 15 (E 4). 35 Kienast–Sommerfeld 1994, p. 360, ll. 9–10, p. 361, l. 29, p. 381, ll. 72, 79, 81; Sommerfeld 2000, p. 423, l. 28. 36 In the famous Gutium letter from the time of Šar-kali-šarrī (Kienast–Volk 1995, p. 90, ll. 7, 22 [Gir 19]), that is a relatively late letter, and in an OB copy of Narāmsîn’s inscription (Kienast–Sommerfeld 1994, p. 381, ll. 72–83 [Narāmsîn C 30]). 37 But cf. Sallaberger 1999. 38 Deutscher 2000:75. 39 Especially as -mi was commonly present in the quotatives when attached to umma, resulting in ummami. Here one can appreciate fully GAG § 123c, where von Soden argued that -mi serves as a marker of reporting other person’s words, when the use of umma is avoided for some reason.

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since in literary texts other means for introducing direct speech were also available (as ana PN zakārum), -mi was differentiated from these other means, and started to render not any direct speech, but a sudden break in the narrative flow, an APOSTROPHE. VI. Is there a preferred location for -mi within the sentence? Since -mi is an enclitic particle, it is logical to compare its position to that of another enclitic modal particle, the irrealis marker -man. As exemplified in the chapter dedicated to this modal particle in my forthcoming monograph, there are no constraints as to the sentential component(s) to which -man is attached.40 The mechanism that was identified is principally a pragmatic one: -man tends to be attached to the semantically prominent element in the sentence. In addition, a propensity was identified to place -man at even intervals along the sentence, to help the hearer to keep in mind the irrealis mode all along the sentence. Turning back to our particle, the examples at hand show that -mi, just like -man, can be attached to any part of speech: to verbs (regardless of tense),41 to adjectives42 and substantives (in different cases),43 to pronouns,44 to PNs,45 to adverbs,46 to interrogatives,47 to prepositions (even to the non-adhesive ana and ina),48 to conditionals,49 to deictic, anaphoric, or temporal elements,50 and to negation particles.51 Pragmatically, all these locations are characterized as semantically foregrounded loci. In addition, when the particle is used modally, -mi is attached to this component of the reported speech from which the speaker wishes to distance himself most. Consider text (9): (9) ARM 26/2, 303:7′–17′: i-na ešaf-ni-im u4-mi-im ul-lu-ri / i¢-¢á-¶eem-ma ù ¢e4-em-ma-am / ša be-lí iš-pu-ra-aš-šu ema-a¶-rif-šu {x} / ni-išku-un it-bi-ma um-ma š[u-m]a / ma-le-e šu-ub-ra-am ù sa-am-mé-tar / tu-

40

Similarly Krebernik–Streck 2001. E. g. AbB 7, 8:5′–12′; ARM 26/1, 275:5–18. 42 E. g. ARM 26/1, 140:1–40. 43 E. g. AbB 14, 217:20–30; ARM 26/2, 303:7′–17′. 44 E. g. AbB 10, 190:11–31; ARM 28, 48:21–34. 45 E. g. ARM 5, 59:1–21; ARM 10, 129:1–20; ARM 28, 179:31–41. 46 E. g. ARM 26/1, 140:1–40. 47 ARM 26/1, 12:5′–15′. 48 E. g. AbB 11, 172:6–17 and ShL 28B:4–12 (ana-mi); ARM 1, 118:4–14 (itti); Landsberger–Jacobsen 1955, 14:9 (ina-mi), 14:14 (ana-mi). 49 AbB 10, 57:6–28. 50 FM 1, 82:40–50; ShL 28B:4–12; ShL 70:42–45. 51 E. g. ARM 28, 147:4–8 and see above. 41

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še-zi-ba ù i-ia-ti tu-še-ze-ba-ni-in-ni / ù it-bi-ma ul-lu-ri ap-pa-ni-šu / ú-ul at-ta [š]a dì-’a4-ti-im / ta-aš-ku-un-ma eùf tu-¶a-al-li-iq-šu-nu-ti / ù et-bima a-n[a-k]u um-ma a-na-ku-ma / a-na ar-ni-ka ar-ni-mi ú-ul ta-qa-bi ‘In the next day Ulluri came to me and we have presented to him the missive which my lord has charged him. He (Haya-sūmu) stood up and said: “As much as you (pl.) have saved Šubram and Sammetar, so you (pl.) will save me?!” And Ulluri stood up in front of him (saying): “isn’t it you who caused … and destroyed them?” And I stood up and so did I say: “to your sin you (never) say: ‘(it is) my sin-mi’!” ’52

The writer, Yam´um, is eager to distance himself from the contents of his words to Haya-sūmu. The particle -mi is used to assure that his addressee, the king, will be aware that the one who never admits his own faults is not the reporting person, but Haya-sūmu. The component on which -mi harbors is the one from which the speaker wishes to distance himself: ‘my sin.’ But another mechanism is also at work here. In OB letters, the particle -mi is found at the very last word of the line at a rate that is much higher than expected, had this location been accidental. In Babylonian letters in 66% of the attestations -mi is found at the end of the line. In Mari letters the number is a bit lower: 51% of the cases of -mi are attested at end of lines. (Note that so far the particle is better attested in the Mari than in Babylonia.) Taking all provenances together, in slightly more than half of the epistolary attestations, -mi is anchored to the last word of the line—a proportion which cannot be accidental. The final position of -mi in letters, it must be stressed, is exceptional, since other OB modal particles typically hold a frontal position. As to the location of -mi in literary texts, here the results are even more striking. More than 90% of the attestations of -mi in literary texts are attached to the head of the line! The explanation for this dichotomy is clear. The different location of -mi mirrors its different function in literary and non-literary texts. Since in literary texts the particle -mi maintained its original function of marking direct speech, the particle kept the frontal position, typical of quotatives. In OB letters, by contrast, the role of -mi as quotative was transferred to umma and ummami, and the particle was assigned a new, modal function of a SPACER. As such it was relegated to final position, probably because the frontal position was taken by the new quotatives.

52

See Heimpel 2003:290.

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Are the different locations of -mi a sign that this particle is in fact a grapheme reflecting scribal conventions, similarly to quotation marks used in modern practice, and not a fully functioning morpheme? Or does it, on the contrary, hint that the seemingly arbitrary parsing of the text into line-units is not merely technical but carries linguistic meaning? This idea is not new regarding literary texts, but it is less evident as far as epistolary texts go. Be that as it may, the particle -mi is a fascinating and complex component of OB modal system, and a mine for future research. References Buccellati 1996 Deutscher 2000 Driver–Miles 1952 Durand 1997 Durand 1998 Durand 2000 Farber 1996 Finet 1956 Frayne 1990 George 2003 Goldenberg 1991

Groneberg 1997

Heimpel 2003

Huehnergard 1997 Kienast–Sommerfeld 1994 Kienast–Volk 1995

Buccellati, G. A Structural Grammar of Babylonian. Wiesbaden. Deutscher, G. Syntactic Change in Akkadian. The Evolution of Sentential Complementation. Oxford. Driver, G. R.; Miles, J. C. The Babylonian Laws. Oxford. Durand, J.-M. Documents épistolaires du palais de Mari (LAPO 16). Paris. Durand, J.-M. Documents épistolaires du palais de Mari (LAPO 17). Paris. Durand, J.-M. Documents épistolaires du palais de Mari (LAPO 18). Paris. Farber, W. qanu’ummi qanu’um. NABU 1996/80. Finet, A. L’Accadien des lettres de Mari. Bruxelles. Frayne, D. R. Old Babylonian Period (2003–1595 BC) (RIME 4). Toronto–Buffalo–London. George, A. R. The Babylonian Gilgamesh Epic. Oxford. Goldenberg, G. On Direct Speech and the Hebrew Bible. Jongeling, K.; Murre van den Berg, H. L.; van Rompay, L. (eds.). Studies in Hebrew and Aramaic Syntax Presented to Professor J. Hoftijzer on the Occasion of His 65th Birthday. Leiden. Pp. 79–96 (= Goldenberg, G. Studies in Semitic Linguistics. Jerusalem, 1998. Pp. 197–214). Groneberg, B. R. M. Lob der Ištar. Gebet und Ritual an die altbabylonische Venusgottin. Tanatti Ištar (CM 8). Groningen. Heimpel, W. Letters to the King of Mari. A New Translation, with Historical Introduction, Notes, and Commentary (MC 12). Winona Lake. Huehnergard, J. A Grammar of Akkadian. Atlanta. Kienast, B.; Sommerfeld, W. Glossar zu den altakkadischen Königsinschriften (FAOS 8). Stuttgart. Kienast, B.; Volk, K. Die sumerischen und akkadischen Briefe des III. Jahrtausends aus der Zeit vor der III. Dynastie von Ur (FAOS 19). Stuttgart.

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Lambert 1989

Landsberger– Jacobsen 1955 Lipiński 2001 Livingstone 1988

Morier 1989 Palmer 1986 Palmer 2001 Perminger–Brogan 1993 Reiner 1966 Sallaberger 1999

Sigrist 1987

Sommerfeld 2000

Ungnad–Matouš 1964 Vogelzang 1988 Wasserman 2003 Ziegler 1999

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Krebernik, M.; Streck, M. P. Šumma lā qabi’āt ana balā¢im … Warst du nicht zum Leben Berufen … Der Irrealis im Altbabylonischen. Bartelmus, R.; Nebes, N. (eds.). Sachverhalt und Zeitbezug. Semitistische und alttestamentliche Studien Adolf Denz zum 65. Geburtstag (JBVO 4). Wiesbaden. Pp. 51–78. Lambert, W. G. A Babylonian Prayer to Anūna. Behrens, H.; Loding, D.; Roth, M. T. (eds.). Dumu-é-dub-ba-a. Studies in Honor of Åke W. Sjöberg. Philadelphia. Pp. 321–336. Landsberger, B.; Jacobsen, Th. An Old Babylonian Charm against Merhu. JNES 14:14–21. Lipiński, E. Semitic Languages. Outline of a Comparative Grammar. Leuven. Livingstone, A. “At the Cleaners” and Notes on Humorous Literature. Mauer, G.; Magen, U. (eds.). Ad bene et fideliter seminandum. Festgabe für Karlheinz Deller zum 21. Februar 1987 (AOAT 220). Pp. 175–187. Morier, H. Dictionnaire de poétique et rhétorique. Paris. Palmer, F. R. Mood and Modality. Cambridge et al. Palmer, F. R. Mood and Modality. Cambridge–New York. Perminger, A.; Brogan, T. V. F. (eds.). The New Princeton Encyclopedia of Poetry and Poetics. Princeton. Reiner, E. A Linguistic Analysis of Akkadian. The Hague. Sallaberger, W. “Wenn Du mein Bruder bist…” Interaktion und Textgestaltung in altbabylonischen Alltagsbriefen (CM 16). Groningen. Sigrist, M. On the Bite of a Dog. Marks, J. H.; Good, R. M. (eds.). Love and Death in the Ancient Near East: Essays in Honor of Marvin H. Pope. Guilford. Pp. 85–88. Sommerfeld, W. Narām-Sîn, die “Große Revolte” und MAR.TUki. Marzahn, J.; Neumann, H. (eds.). Assyriologica et Semitica. Festschrift für Joachim Oelsner anlässlich seines 65. Geburtstages am 18. Februar 1997 (AOAT 252). Münster. Pp. 419–36. Ungnad, A.; Matouš, L. Grammatik des Akkadischen. München. Vogelzang, M. E. Bin šar dadme. Edition and Analysis of the Akkadian Anzu Poem. Groningen. Wasserman, N. Style and Form in Old-Babylonian Literary Texts (CM 27). Leiden–Boston. Ziegler, N. A Questionable Daughter-in-Law. JCS 51:55–58.

Peripheral Akkadian

Akkadian Written by Egyptian Scribes in the 14th and 13th Centuries BCE Zipora Cochavi-Rainey Bet Berl College

Of special interest in the study of Peripheral Akkadian is the corpus of texts written by Egyptian scribes (cf. Cochavi-Rainey 1982; 1988; 1990a; 1990b). This is because the native language of those scribes is abundantly documented in the many Egyptian texts in hieroglyphic and hieratic script. The following are some of the salient features of their Akkadian letters, namely those expressions that reflect idioms from native Egyptian. 1. Use of finite verb forms An important feature of Peripheral Akkadian is the use of the verb tenses in comparison with Middle Babylonian. Aro (1955:80–86) describes the tense functions in Middle Babylonian as follows: the preterite indicates past action only in subordinate clauses, in negative main clauses, or in interrogative clauses, while the iptaras forms appear in positive declarative sentences. Although the Egyptian scribes do not follow the rigid word order of placing the verb at the end of the clause, they do usually employ iptaras and preterite forms correctly. This true in both the 14th and the 13th centuries. a-nu-um-ma aš-te-me a-wa-ta5 ša ta-aš-pu-ra eli(UGU)-še a-na ia-ši ‘now, I have heard the word which you sent to me concerning her’ (EA 1:10, also 12). ù a-na-ku at-ta-din a-na a-la-ki-šu-nu a-na ka-a-ša / … ša il-qú-ni-ik-ku ‘and I sent them to you … which they have brought to you’ (KUB 3, 34obv.:17–19; cf. also rev.:3–5; Edel 1994 I 184–185).

But sometimes iptaras forms do appear in subordinate clauses: ša a¶i(ŠEŠ)-šu i-na b[á-]a-bi iš-tu āli(URU.KI)-šu it-ta-sú-uk-šu ‘one whose own brother has cast out of his city gate’ (EA 162:11). [k]i-mu-ú ša a¶-ta-bat-šu-nu-t[i] ‘instead of those whom I have carried off ’ (KL 69.277obv.:11).

804

Peripheral Akkadian ša it-ta-ši ‘who bore’ (KUB 3, 34obv.:10; Edel 1994 I 182–183). ù a-na-ku / a¶-tá-di dan-níš dan-níš / ki-i a-bu-ia il-tap-ra a-na ia-ši ‘and I rejoiced very, very much that my father sent to me …’ (KUB 3, 70obv.:13–15; Edel 1994 I 34–35).

2. Use of the stative There are some places where the stative seems to be used like its Egyptian usage, for example, a verb of motion in the stative indicating past tense. Note the verb of motion tebû “to depart” in the stative with the meaning of past action: 3 karāšū (KI.KAL.BE.MEŠ) te-bu-ú i-na ¶arrānāti (KASKAL.MEŠ) ‘three brigades had set out on the roads’ (KBo 1, 15+19obv.:18; Edel 1994 I 58–59, line 23).

Compare the Ugaritic verb cognate to Akkadian tebû, namely, tb‘: tb‘ . k¬r / lahlh . hyn . tb‘ . lmšknth (tabi‘a Kô¬aru le’ahlihu, Hayyānu tabi‘a lemaškanātihu) ‘departed Kothar to his tent, Hayyan departed to his abode’ (KTU 1.17 v 31–33).

One of the main features of classical Egyptian is the use of verbal constructions in circumstantial clauses. The stative verbal conjugation shares in the same circumstantial substitution table. This principle is carried over to Ramesside Egyptian though some additional elements, such as the circumstantial particle xw, also play a role. For example, xw.f µr gm t±y.f µm.t sdr.tx mr.tx m ‘¯± ‘he found his wife lying down and feigning to be sick (lit.: sick in falsehood)’ (The Two Brothers 4, 8; Gardiner 1932:13).

There is a passage in one of the Amarna letters from Pharaoh to Intaruta, ruler of Achshaph, where the use of the stative reminds us of the Egyptian usage: ù lu-ú šu-šu-ra-tá a-na pa-ni / ´ābī (ERÍN.MEŠ) pí-¢a-ti šarri (LUGAL) aklu (NINDA) ma-a-ad / karānu (GEŠTIN) gáb-bu mi-im-ma ma-a-ad ‘and may you be ready to meet the army of the king, while the bread is plentiful, while the wine, as much as there is, is plentiful’ (EA 367:15–17).

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Here gabbu is declined properly in the nominative and is a strong arguing point in favor of our assumption that mād is really a stative, the predicate of a circumstantial clause. 3. Some calques on Egyptian expressions Several letters from Pharaoh have commands to be alert and on guard. ù u´-´ur lu-ú na-´a-ra-ta ‘and guard! May you be on guard!’ (EA 367:4; 99:7–8; 370:4; 117:84).

The Egyptian scribes chose na´āru as a calque on their own verb rs (rxs) “to be wakeful, vigilant.” For example, when the Egyptian army was arrayed opposite Megiddo on the eve of Thutmose III’s victory, the troops were reviewed: sn rsw n mš‘ ¯d n.sn mn-xb mn-xb, rs-tp rs-tp ‘passing by in review of the army, saying to them “Courage, courage! Vigilance, vigilance!” ’ (Sethe 1907:656, 9–12).

In the same letter there is another echo of Egyptian usage: u´-´ur Mu´N-´ur la-a tá-mé-ek-ki ‘and guard! guard! Do not be slack!’ (EA 367:14).

The parallel is in Thutmose III’s admonitions to the priests: rsw tpw.tn µr xrt.tn, m b±gx µr nt-‘.tn nb ‘be ye vigilant concerning your duty, do not be slack concerning all your rituals.’ (Sethe 1907:752, 9–10).

4. Negative aorist || Akkadian present There are some interesting Akkadian expressions in the cuneiform version of the treaty between Ramses II and Úattusilli III that can be compared to their Egyptian counterparts in the hieroglyphic version. One of these is the use of the Akkadian Present with past continuous meaning: ul-tù MdáN-ri-ti ilu(DINGIR-LIM) ú-ul i-na-an-MdinN a-na e-pé-ši nukurti (LÚ.KÚR) i-na be-ri-šu-nu/ [i-na ri-ki-il-ti a-d]i da-a-ri-ti ‘from the beginning the god did not ever permit the making of hostilities between them [by means of a treaty for]ever’ (lines 10– 11; Edel 1997:6, 18).

It is precisely the Akkadian Present, used with an adverbial qualifier ultu dārīti “from the beginning,” that expresses “never permitted.” As is well

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known, the Akkadian present can express continued or repeated action in the past, just like the imperfect in West Semitic. Therefore, the verb form inandin, is admirably suited to this context and in itself, it even provides an interesting confirmation for the Late Egyptian nuance of the Egyptian Negative Aorist that appears in the parallel context: xr r-µ±t n ¯r nµµ … bw dx p±-n¬r ¶pr ¶rwyw r-xwd.sn m nt-‘ ‘formerly, from time immemorial, the god never permitted hostilities to occur between them by (means of) a treaty ’ (line 7; Edel 1997:19; Kitchen 1971:227).

The following non-aggression clauses are syndetically joined by the conjunction in the Akkadian version of the treaty, but the verb tenses (Present) match the Egyptian text perfectly: ù IRe-a[-ma-še-ša m]a-a-i dA-ma-na šarru (LUGAL) rabû (GAL) šàr māt (KUR) Mi-i´-ri-i la-a ú-gàr-ra māt (KUR) Úa-at-ti a-na la-qé-e mi-im-ma / i-na libbi (ŠÀ)-šu [a-na ´]a-a-ti ù IÚa-at-tu-ši-li šarru (LUGAL) rabû (GAL) šàr māt (KUR) Úa-at-ti la-a ú-gar14-ra a-na māt (KUR) Mi-i´-ri-i / a-na la-qé-[e mi-im-m]a i-na libbi (ŠÀ)-šu [a-n]a ´a-a-ti ‘while Ramses, beloved of Amon, the great king, the king of Egypt will never make a raid into the land of Úatti in order to take anything from within it [for]ever and Úattusili, the great king, the king of the land of Úatti will never make a raid into the land of Egypt in order to tak[e anythi]ng from within it [for]ever’ (lines 22–24; Edel 1997:26).

The Egyptian parallel clauses have the circumstantial negative aorist: xw bw xrx p± wr ‘± n Ú-t thx r p± t± n Kmt r nµµ r x¬± nkt xm.f, xw bw xrx Wsrm‘±t-R‘ stp.n.R‘ p± µk± ‘± n Kmt thx r p± t± [n Ú-t r x¬± nkt x]m.f r nµµ ‘while the great chief of Úatti never will make a raid into the land of Egypt forever, to take anything from it, and Was(r)-mu‘a-Rē‘a Satep-na-Rē‘a, the great ruler of Egypt, never will make a raid into the land of Úatti to take something from it forever’ (Treaty, lines 13–14; Edel 1997:27).

The Akkadian verb forms are ugarra, the D present of gurrû “to make a raid, campaign.” 5. The prospective || infinitive phrase Erman (1884) was the first to describe the function of the Egyptian verb (r)dx, “to give,” in governing the prospective; he called the forms that followed (r)dx “Subjunktiv.” It was Friedrich (1924) who observed that the use of the verb nadānu to express the causative in the Boghazköi texts

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from Egypt was really a calque on the use of (r)dx in causal clauses and that the phrase, ana + infinitive + pronominal suffix or dependent noun, served to render the Egyptian “subjunctive” verb form that customarily followed the verb rdx, “to give,” in expressions of causality. The continuation of the Treaty passage cited in the preceding section is as follows: bw dx p±-n¬r ¶pr ¶rwyw r-xwd.sn m nt-‘ ‘the god never permitted hostilities to occur between them by (means of) a treaty’ (line 7).

The corresponding Akkadian is: ilu (DINGIR-LIM) ú-ul i-na-an-MdinN a-na e-pé-ši nukurti(LÚ.KÚR) i-na be-ri-šu-nu / [i-na ri-ki-il-ti a-d]i da-a-ri-ti ‘the god did not ever permit the making of hostilities between them [by means of a treaty for]ever’ (lines 10–11).

In the passage cited above, the Egyptian bw dx p± n¬r ¶pr ¶rwyw is paralleled by the Akkadian ilu (!) ul inandin ana epēši nukurta (!); the form ¶pr is the prospective s¯m.f here with a nominal subject. The same holds true for the subsequent parallel: r tm dx.t ¶pr ¶rwyw r-xwd.sn r nµµ ‘in order to prevent hostilities from occurring between them forever’ (Treaty, line 9);

which corresponds to: a-n[a la na-da]-ni a-na e-pé-ši nukurti (LÚ.KÚR) i-na be-ri-šu-nu a-na ´a-a-ti ‘so as to prevent the occurrence of hostility between them for ever’ (line 13).

The Egyptian scribes felt that ana + infinitive with genitive suffix was the closest equivalent they could find for translating their own subordinate prospective. The infinitive of the verb epēšu was taken by the Egyptian scribes to mean not only “to do, make,” but also “to become, to come into being.” As we will see below, they had a precedent for this nuance in other peripheral texts. In Egyptian, causal clauses are comprised of the verb (r)dx, “to give,” governing a verbal form from the prospective conjugation pattern, for example: xw.f dx.t xw.x ‘he caused that I should come’ (Wenamon 2, 26; Gardiner 1932:69).

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Peripheral Akkadian

With regard to the word order in these causal sentences, it should be noted that the complement, ana + infinitive, comes immediately after the form of nadānu. The various examples of this construction from the Ramesside epistles are as follows: ù a-na-ku at-ta-din a-na a-la-ki-šu-nu a-na ka-a-ša ‘and I caused their going to you’ = ‘and I sent them to you’ (KUB 3, 34obv.:17; Edel 1994 I 184–185). it-ta-an-nu a-na a-la-ki-šu a-na e-pé-ši / šammī (Ú.MEŠ) a-na šarri (LUGAL) ‘they caused his going (= they sent him) to prepare medicines for the king’ (KUB 3, 67rev.:1–2; Edel 1994 I 170–171).

The examples above correspond to past tense forms of the Egyptian verb (r)dx. Of course, (r)dx can serve as the causative verb while it can itself take any of the normal forms for transitive verbs in the Egyptian conjugation system, such as the imperative, for example: xmx šmt wpwt r ¶swt nb r w¶±.s ‘cause that emissaries go to all the foreign lands to seek her’ (The Two Brothers 11, 5–6; Gardiner 1932:21).

Compare the following Akkadian example: i-din a-na a-la-ki amīlī (LÚ.MEŠ) a-na ta-ba-[ki šaman rūšti (Ì.SAG)] ‘send men in order to pou[r oil]’ (KUB 3, 63obv.:15; Edel 1994 I 134–135).

The causal verb may also appear in the infinitive, as in this passage from Wenamon: xw.f (µr) dx.t wµmw r µ±t.w r dx.t š‘d.w ¶tw ‘and he appointed supervisors over them to cause that they should cut down trees’ (Wenamon 2, 43; Gardiner 1932:71).

Similarly, one finds in the Akkadian texts: a¶u (ŠEŠ)-ia li-še-bi-la / amīla (LÚ-la12) … / a-na na-da-ni a-na a-la-di-ša ‘may my brother send a man … to cause that she give birth’ (KBo 28, 30obv.:11–13).

One may also find (r)dx in the initial prospective (optative), ¶r dx p± R‘ … snb.k ‘and may Rē‘ cause … that you be healthy’ (P. Bologna 1, 2; Gardiner 1937:1).

Perhaps this is the form behind the following use of the Akkadian precative:

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ù li-di--šu-nu-ti a-na ša-mé-šu-nu ‘and may he grant them that they should hear’ (KUB 3, 69obv.:8; Edel 1994 I 88–89).

The Egyptian prospective form as subjunctive after rdx can also be in the passive voice, for example: xw.f µr dx.t xn.tw / 200 n t-¶-b-s-t ‘and he caused that 200 baskets be brought’ (Taking of Joppa 2, 5–4; Gardiner 1932:83).

It would appear that the reflex of that construction in the Egyptian letters from Boghazköi has ana plus an infinitive with a pronominal suffix denoting its object rather than its subject: [a]t-ta-din a-na ša-pa-ri IMa-a-i-re-a ‘I caused that Mai-Rē‘ be sent (lit. the sending of Mai-Rē‘)’ (NBC 3934obv.:25; Edel 1994 I 54–55). ù dšamaš (UTU) i-na-an-din a-na du-um-mu-qí ša-la-ma ‘and may the sun god permit an effective reconciliation’ (KBo 1, 29 + KBo 9, 43obv.:13–14; Edel 1994 I 40–41; CAD D 63b). ù i-na-an-di-nu a-na du-um-mu-qí / sa-la-ma ‘and may they cause the improvement of the peace’ (KUB 3, 70obv.:19–20; Edel 1994 I 34–35).

The verb (r)dx may also govern a stative or the preposition µr plus an infinitive instead of the prospective s¯m.f. In such cases, the subject of the prospective action may appear as the direct object of (r)dx, for example: mtwtw dx.t / rmt µr rs Nfr-µtp ‘and they caused people to keep an eye on Nfr-µtp’ (P. Salt 124 obv.:2, 16; Černy 1929, pl. XLIV).

This would appear to be the construction that stands behind the following: a-nu-ma at-ta-din IPi-ka4-aš-ta a-na qá-be-e gab-bi gab-bi / a-ma-te MEŠ ‘now I have caused Pikašta to tell (you) everything’ (KUB 3, 69obv.:10–11; Edel 1994 I 88–89).

6. Independent pronouns In all of the Akkadian dialects of this period the use of nominative independent pronouns is not consistent. However, in the texts written by Egyptian scribes discovered in the Boghazköi archive, the syntactic construction S – V – X (X = verbal complement) is ubiquitous. It seems to me that this may reflect the Egyptian substratum of their Akkadian dialect. The basis

810

Peripheral Akkadian

for my assumption is the fact that in Ramesside Egyptian, there are many constructions in which the actor precedes the verb. The principal Egyptian conjugation patterns which begin with an actor expression are those of the First Present (tw.x (µr) xr.t “I do it,” “I am doing/making,” tw.x snb.kwx “I am healthy,” etc.) and of the circumstantial clauses (xw.x ¶wx.kwx mkx.kwx “while I am secure and invulnerable”). In the Semitic languages, the verbal prefixes and suffixes can stand for the actor and thus in many cases they obviate the need for an independent pronoun. So it is interesting that the Egyptian scribes make use so often of independent pronouns in their Akkadian texts. A selection of examples follows: First Person ù a-na-ku la mu-ud-da-ku a-na ša-a-ši ‘and I was not aware of it’ (NBC 3934obv.:23′; Edel 1994 I 54–55); a-na-ku at-ta-din 1-en LÚsà-ak-ruma[-aš a-na a-la-ki] ‘I sent one charioteer’ (KUB 3, 51rev.: 3′–4′; Edel 1994 I 18–19); ù a-na-ku a-ta-mar ¢up-pa ‘and I saw the tablet’ (KUB 3, 63obv.:12; Edel 1994 I 134–135); … ša a-na-ku aq-bé-e-šu ‘… which I said to him’ (KUB 3, 27obv.:7; Edel 1994 I 70–71). Second Person ù at-ta tal-MtapN-MraN ‘and you sent’ (KBo 1, 15+19obv.:3; Edel 1994 I 58–59, line 8′); ul at-ta tàš-pu-ra a-n[a ia-ši], ‘didn’t you write to [me]?’ (KUB 3, 22obv.:10; Edel 1994 I 50–51); … ša at-ta ta-ad-dinu a-na la-qé-e i-na qāti (ŠU-ti)-šu ‘… which you sent by his hand’ (KUB 3, 67rev.:10; Edel 1994 I 170–171); … ša at-ti tàš-pu-ri ‘… which you (f.) sent’ (KUB 3, 66rev.:10′; Edel 1994 I 172–173); ù attu-nu la-a tù-ka4-ab-[ba-dá] ‘and you do not hon[or]’ (KUB 3, 47rev.:7; Edel 1994 I 74–75). Third Person ù šu-ú il-li-ik a-na [Pentešina (IZAG.ŠEŠ)] ‘and he went to [Pentešina]’ (KUB 3, 51rev.:4′; Edel 1994 I 18–19); [ù] šu-ú it-tá-din 1-en LÚsà-ar-ku / [a-na a-la-ki] ‘[and] he MsentN one charioteer’ (ibid. rev.:6′–7′; Edel 1994 I 18–19); ù šu-nu iq-b[u-ú] ‘and they sai[d]’ (KBo 1, 15+ 19obv.:12; Edel 1994 I 58–59, line 22′); ù šu-nu [ik]-tal-du a[-na aš-ri ša šarri(LUGAL)] ‘and they [re]ached the pl[ace of the king]’ (KUB 3, 66obv.:16; Edel 1994 I 172–173); ù šu-nu ip-pu-šu [a-na ša-] a-ši / šammī (Ú.MEŠ) a-na a-la-di-ša ‘and they will prepare [for h]er medicines so that she may give birth’ (KBo 28, 30rev.:12–13; Edel 1994 I 178–179).

Of special interest are the examples of the precative, where an explicit pronominal subject is usually unnecessary. Of course, in the first example, one may argue that there is a special reason for using the independent pronoun, viz. that the speaker wishes to stress the identity of the actor, who is himself:

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a-na-ku-ma MluN-da-an-ni-ka ‘it is I who surely will strengthen you’ (KUB 3, 124:7).

However, in the next example, there is, at least, no formal emphasis on the pronominal subject: ù šu-ú li-id-din ¶urā´a(GUŠKIN)-šu ù šu-ú li-id-din kasap(KÙ.BABBAR)-šu ‘and may he give his gold and may he give his silver’ (KUB 1, 24 + KUB 3, 84obv.:16; Edel 1994 I 74–75).

7. Conclusion The profound influence of the Egyptian scribes’ native idioms is evident in most of the letters they wrote in both the 14th and 13th centuries BCE. This only a selection of examples. However, the calques are more prevalent in the latter century. On the other hand, the scribes who wrote the Egyptian letters in the Amarna archive generally avoid extreme Egyptianisms. They adhere more strictly to the style of the international dialect of Akkadian that was in use at that time. There is no doubt, nevertheless, that the Egyptian scribes intended their texts to be read as Akkadian. This is especially obvious with the Babylonian version of the famous Peace Treaty. References Aro 1955 Cochavi-Rainey 1982 Cochavi-Rainey 1988

Cochavi-Rainey 1989

Cochavi-Rainey 1990a

Cochavi-Rainey 1990b

Černy 1929

Aro, J. Studien zur mittelbabylonischen Grammatik (StOr 20). Helsinki. Cochavi-Rainey, Z. The Egyptian Letters of the el-Amarna Archive. MA thesis. Tel Aviv University (in Hebrew). Cochavi-Rainey, Z. The Akkadian Dialect of the Egyptian Scribes in the 14th–13th Centuries B. C. E. PhD. Diss. Tel Aviv University (in Hebrew with English summary). Cochavi-Rainey, Z. Canaanite Influence in the Akkadian Texts written by Egyptian Scribes in the 14th and 13th Centuries, B. C. E. UF 21:39–46. Cochavi-Rainey, Z. Egyptian Influence in the Akkadian Texts written by Egyptian Scribes in the 14th and 13th Centuries, B. C. E. JNES 49:57–65. Cochavi-Rainey, Z. Tenses and Modes in Cuneiform Texts Written by Egyptian Scribes in the Late Bronze Age. UF 22:5–23. Černy, J. Papyrus Salt 124 (Brit. Mus. 100055). JEA 15:243–258.

812 Edel 1994 Edel 1997 Erman 1884 Friedrich 1924 Gardiner 1932 Gardiner 1937 Kitchen 1971 Sethe 1907

Peripheral Akkadian Edel, E. Die ägyptisch-hethitische Korrespondenz aus Boghazköi in babylonischer und hethitischer Sprache. Leverkusen. Edel, E. Der Vertrag zwischen Ramses II. von Ägypten und Úattušili III. von Úatti. Berlin. Erman, A. Spuren eines alten Subjunctivs im Koptischen. ZÄS 22:28–37. Friedrich, J. Zu den keilschriftlichen ägyptischen Wörtern aus Boghazköi. OLZ 12:704–707. Gardiner, A. H. Late Egyptian Stories (Bibliotheca Egyptiaca 1). Brussels. Gardiner, A. H. Late Egyptian Miscellanies (Bibliotheca Egyptiaca 7). Brussels. Kitchen, K. A. Ramesside Inscriptions, Historical and Biographical. Vol. II. Fasc. 5. Oxford. Sethe, K. Urkunden der 18. Dynastie. Historische-biographische Urkunden (Urkunden des Ägyptischen Altertums IV/3). Berlin (reprinted 1961).

The “Second Glosses” in the Lexical Lists from Emar: West Semitic or Akkadian?* Yoram Cohen Tel Aviv University

Introduction The Emar lexical lists constitute the bulk of the Mesopotamian scholarly materials excavated at the site.1 Representative of less known lexical traditions and recensions, they provide an important supplement to Sumerian and Akkadian lexicography. Justly so, they are considered, along with the Úattuša and Ugarit lexical lists, and in spite of their local peculiarities, to be one of the major contributions to our state of knowledge of this important genre during a period it is hardly documented in the core areas, i. e., in Assyria, and much less so, in Babylonia.2 The so-called Western Periphery lexical lists, Emar included, also provide important lexicographic data on languages other than Sumerian and Akkadian. For example, in many of the Hattuša lists and in some of the Ugarit lists the meanings of Hittite, Hurrian, and Ugaritic words can be divulged thanks to one or two extra columns supplied to the right of the Akkadian column. In Emar, however, the lexical lists were not supplied with an extra column. Local or non-Akkadian words, as translations of the Sumerian first column, appear at times in the “Akkadian” second column.3 In addition, local words were occasionally entered to the right * The author wishes to thank Kathleen Abraham, Uri Gabbay, Andrew George, Leonid Kogan, Matthew Rutz, and Niek Veldhuis for their many insightful comments and useful contributions; Sivan Kedar is thanked for the editing and formatting of this article. Abbreviations follow the CAD; note the following additional abbreviations: Emar = Arnaud 1985–1987, SED II = Militarev–Kogan 2005, and SpTU IV = von Weiher 1993. This study was supported by the Israel Science Foundation, Grant No. 1075/05. 1 Most of the Emar lexical lists are found in Arnaud 1985–1987; see also MSL 15, 84–87 and Rutz 2006. Other sources are MSL SS 1, 28–35 (= Yoshikawa–Matsushima 1981), Watanabe 1987, and van Soldt 1993 (the fragment is probably from Emar, rather than Ugarit). 2 See Civil 1989 and Borger 2004:231–234. 3 Many of these words appear in the Sa Vocabulary, Emar 537. See the studies of Sjöberg 1998; 2006; Pentiuc 1999; 2001; Ikeda 2003; Cohen 2003.

814

Peripheral Akkadian

of the Akkadian column, as “second glosses”, systematically marked off with a Glossenkeil.4 The result was this: first column = Sumerian entry; second column = first gloss; and third column = (Glossenkeil) second gloss. These Glossenkeil words are found only in three of the Emar lexical lists: the bilingual ÚAR-ra=¶ubullu (herewith Hh), lú = ša, and izi = išātu.5 As we will show here, the Glossenkeil words are to be used carefully in the reconstruction of the city’s lexicon, for not all of these second glosses are Emarite West Semitic words.6 In fact, many can be recognized as Akkadian lexemes. Our aim here is to present all the second glosses in the Emar lists and to discuss their etymological origin. We begin with a presentation and a brief discussion of all the Emar second glosses arranged alphabetically. In the final part of this paper, we will evaluate the percentage of the West Semitic vis-à-vis the Akkadian entries and consider the purpose and origin of the second glosses in the Emar lexical lists.7 The second glosses 1. Hh Vb–VII, Emar 545 D (Msk 74209a+):69, 136′8 (giš)9 apin á-kár

u-nu-tu ‘utensil’

: a-nu ‘utensil’

4 As Matthew Rutz calls to my attention, the use of the Glossenkeil in Emar is found in the lexical lists many times simply to mark off Akkadian entries in the second column. In addition, it is found to gloss logograms in the Emar ritual texts, mark variant apodoses in omen texts, and, in general, indicate irregular entries or lines; see Seminara 1998:69–70. Hence, there is no need to associate Glossenkeils neccesarily with West Semitic glosses, a modern habit induced by the Canaanite glosses of the El-Amarna Letters. 5 These lists are the product of the ‘Syro-Hittite’ scribal school, generally associated with the influential Zū-Ba"la family; the uni-lingual Hh list, on the other hand, is the product of the earlier ‘Syrian’ scribal school. See in detail Cohen 2009. 6 For the classification of Emarite as a West Semitic language, see Pruzsinszky 2003:41–47 with previous literature. 7 This study supplements Pentiuc 2001 and explicates many of the glosses left untranslated or unexplained in his monograph. I have referred to his work in cases where there is an agreement between us and thus refrained from citing again his references. New entries not found in Pentiuc 2001 are marked here by an asterisk. They are nos. 4, 5, 8, 9, 19, 21, 33, 34, 36, 41, 42, 48, 54, 55 (in note 63), and 58–60. Duplicate copies are also indicated in this paper; see Ikeda 2003: 266 for problems arising when using Arnaud’s composite editions in critical studies. The values assigned to the Sumerian signs are based on Borger 2004 and ePSD (http://psd.museum.upenn.edu/epsd/). 8 For the division of the Hh lexical list in Emar (which follows the Middle Babylonian ordering of tablets), see Civil 1989 and Veldhuis 1997:69.

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Spellings of the first gloss with an initial e- (enūtu) are known from Old Babylonian Mari and elsewhere; spellings with a- (anūtu) are found in NA; see AHw. 55, 1422. The equation of giš apin á-kár with unūtu is found in MSL 6, 16 (Hh V):127. The second gloss anu is attested in the lexical tradition; it is found in the synonym list Malku II 132,10 cited in CAD A2 146: a-nu = i-´u ‘wood(-implement).’11 Both unūtu and anu are related etymologically to Heb. ‫אניה‬ ‘vessel, ship’.12 Since the second gloss does not appear in other non-lexical materials from Mesopotamia, and, moreover, it is listed in Malku, which gives rare or foreign words and their Akkadian equivalents, it is probably a West Semitic word. 2. Hh XVII–XVIII, Emar 579 (Msk 74165c):173, 3′ [… (mušen)]

[…]

[: a]r-ga-bu ‘bat’13

The second gloss is also found in the ÚAR-gud lexical list, which is a commentary to the Hh list; note MSL 8/II, 173:39: [GAR.I]Bmušen = ir-ka-bu = [a]r-ga-bu. The etymology of the word is not clear and, apart from lexical sources, it is always written logographically; see the discussion of Civil 1984 and consider SED II 47–48 for a proposed etymology and comparison with Akkadian akbaru and Hebrew ‫עכבר‬, both meaning ‘mouse.’ 3. Hh XIV, Emar 551 A (Msk 74171a):115, 55′ [amar maš-dà]

ú-za-lu ‘gazelle’

: ar-PI ‘gazelle’

The reading of the second gloss is either arwu or aryu; see Pentiuc 2001: 32–33 and CAD A2 293. Consider also Malku V 42, cited in CAD Ô 43: armu = ´a-bi-tum, and a synonym list, CBS 8538rev., cited in CAD A2 294: ar-wi-um = maš.dà.14 The word is probably West Semitic, although docu9

The determinatives or the ‘headers’ of each section in the Emar Hh list were not written repeatedly for each entry. Hence, they are given here in brackets simply to indicate the determinative of the Sumerian entry. 10 For the synonym list Malku, see Cavigneaux 1983:639. 11 The Malku list can be conveniently browsed at the Digital Corpus of Cuneiform Lexical Texts (= DCCLT) site; see http://cdl.museum.upenn.edu/cgi-bin/ cdlpager?project=dcclt, under 1st millennium, Synonym Lists. 12 See also Pentiuc 2001:27. 13 See Pentiuc 2001:32 who follows Civil’s reconstruction of the line. The latter sees [a]r-ga-bu as the second gloss to [an.im.dugud (mušen)] = [Anzû]; Emar 579 is assigned to Hh XVII–XVIII by Civil 1989:18–19. 14 The synonym list can be found in the DCCLT web site as P263338.

816

Peripheral Akkadian

mented also in Mesopotamian sources (in the early periods exclusively in PNs); see AHw. 73 and SED II 26ff. *4. Hh XVI, Emar 553 H (Msk 74233s):126, 21′ [(na4) …]

[ú-´]u-ur-tum ‘sign’ / ‘form’

: Aš-tar mul ‘Ištar the star’

Arnaud, following an equation given in AHw. 1440, which in turn is based on the Aa lexical list (MSL 14, 228:129), restores [na4-maš-dà] = [ú-´]u-urtum. This restoration, however, is not certain. The Ugarit recension of Hh XVI, which is very similar to the Emar one, displays a different sequence with the entry na4-maš-dà appearing elsewhere than what Arnaud’s restoration suggests. Because the Akkadian equivalent is broken in the Ugarit recension, the entry does not assist in restoring the Emar list.15 If, however, we accept Arnaud’s restoration, note that in an OB recension of the Silbenvokabular A lexical list dAšra[tum] is equated with maš-ziga.16 The second gloss under discussion is possibly a reflection of this lexical tradition, which associates the goddess Aštar with maš (either mašzi-ga or [maš-dà]). In this case, the gloss does not stand as a synonym for the first gloss but rather as an additional explication of the Sumerian entry. In the Emar recension of the Silbenvokabular A dInanna (Aštar) mul is equated with an-ba-ni.17 The goddess Aštar mul is known from an Emar sacrificial list of local deities, and the writing dAš-tar appears thus in other Emar sources.18 It should be noted, however, that this spelling is ubiquitous in many Akkadian sources, either from the Western Periphery or the core areas, and need not represent an Emarite origin. 15

See MSL 10, 40:77–85 and 47:273. On the basis of the Ugarit tablet, and a unilingual tablet from Alalakh, for which see MSL 10, 37 and the DCCLT web site under P348413, Niek Veldhuis (personal communication) suggests restoring Emar 553 H:26, 18′–24′ as follows: [(na4) sur-nir] [šu-r]i-in-nu [(na4) eš-gur] [eš-g]u-ur-ru [(na4) dag-ga]z! ¶i-ig-lu [(na4) ka-pa-az] [ú-´]u-ur-tum : Aš-tar mul [(na4) ¶úl] [b]i-ib-ru [(na4) u4-¶i-in] [ú]-¶é-nu [(na4) nunuz] [er]-ni-tum 16 Sollberger 1965:23, 49. 17 Emar 603:160. 18 Beckman 2002:41.

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*5. Hh Vb–VII, Emar 545 H (Msk 74211) and D (Msk 74209a+; the second gloss is not provided):79, 527′ ti-¶i (giš) dì¶ (= NIM)

ba-al-tum ‘thorn bush’

: ba-a[š-mu] ‘plant-type’

The restoration of the second gloss is not certain. Arnaud reads ba-a[ltum], but if that is the case, what is the sense in the second gloss? Parallels to the restoration offered here can be found. The lemma bašmu is equated with baltum in Malku II 137ff. and the pharmaceutical Uruanna list; see CAD B 65, 141. The word appears throughout Mesopotamian sources, but like other plant-names, its ultimate origin and etymology is difficult to pin-point. It, like other common terms, such as animal names, may belong to a shared stock of areal words, spread over all North Syria and Mesopotamia.19 6. Hh Vb–VII, Emar 545 E (Msk 74234c) and D (Msk 74209a+; the second gloss is not preserved):73, 267 dur (giš) dúr

ki-iš-kàr-rum ‘wooden board’

: dá-pa-rum ‘wooden board’

The first gloss is usually documented as Akkadian kiskirru, as Pentiuc 2001: 187 observes, but in the Emar list it is given a different vocalization; see CAD K 424. The second gloss is dapāru, probably meaning ‘wood’ or ‘board.’ Compare the following equation in Malku VIII 157, cited in CAD D 14:20 da-ba-rum = i´-´u (for the more common i´u; cf. CAD I/J 215ff.). Consider the relation of dapāru to Akkadian dipāru ‘torch’; dipāru may be a secondary meaning of the original meaning ‘(reed-)staff.’21 The relation of dapāru to duprānu or daprānu ‘juniper’ is to not be denied; see CAD D 189 and Sivan 1984:214. The origin of the word remains undetermined. 7. Hh XIX, Emar 556 B (Msk 74190j):134, 18′ and 20′ (síg) za-gìn-na síg-sag-g[il-m]ud

19

uq-ni-tum ‘lapis-coloured (wool)’ ¶a-ša-ma-nu ‘blue-coloured (wool)’

: dú-u¶-šu ‘blue-coloured (wool)’ : dú-u¶-šu ‘blue-coloured (wool)’

See Kogan 2006. The meaning of dabāru is said there to be unknown, but now can be explicated thanks to the Emar list. 21 A similar semantic expansion can be seen in English ‘torch’ originally from Latin torqua ‘twisted (rope or tow).’ 20

818

Peripheral Akkadian

The second gloss is without doubt the same as listed in the dictionaries sub dušû (Sumerian du8/du¶.ši.a) ‘a precious (blue-)stone’, ‘a (blue) colour.’22 For the spelling with /¶/, compare Malku VI 128, cited in CAD D 200: ul-pa-nu = du¶-še-e. See also MSL 10 (the Ugarit unilingual recension), 129:79, and 150:49 and 51. For a proposed loan into Biblical Hebrew as ‫תחש‬, see Dalley 2000. The origin of the word is not known, but it has a very long attestation in Mesopotamian sources. *8. Hh XVI, Emar 553 A (Msk 74230a):124, 201′ (na4) ia-ni-bi

i-ia-ni-bu ‘stone-(type)’

: e-la-lu ‘stone-(type)’

The two glosses are stone-types; see CAD I/J 322 sub janibu and CAD E 74 sub elallu. Both words are well-documented in Mesopotamian sources. *9. Hh XVII–XVIII, Emar 555 F (Msk 74158r) and K (Msk 7467; an excerpt tablet; the second gloss is not provided):131, 72′ tu-ma¶ (mušen)

tù-ma-¶u ‘big dove’

: gir-ri-bu ‘crow’

The first gloss is the Akkadization of the Sumerian entry tu-ma¶, a bird designation, literally, ‘big dove.’ The former entry in the list has tu = summatu = ‘dove’; see also no. 50. The second gloss remains unknown, but it may be a particular spelling of āribu/ērebu ‘crow’ with the initial g sign for /ģ/; compare spellings with initial ¶ signs, such as ¶e-re-e-bu for ērebu; see CAD A2 265.23 10. Hh Vb–VII, Emar 545 D (Msk 74209a+; the second gloss is not preserved) and AN (Msk 74201e):74, 345′ a-ga (giš) aga

a-gu ‘axe’

: gur-di-[mu] ‘axe’

Civil 1989:8 compares the second gloss with the following Ebla lexical entry: gišaga = gur-du-mu-um.24 Because it is not found in additional sources, we can consider it as West Semitic. Comparison is warranted with Hebrew ‫גרזן‬0‘ax’ and ‫גרדום‬0‘executioner’s spot’, lit., ‘a cutting, a chopping’. An OB profession is the gardumu (meaning unclear); see CAD G 50. 22 See Pentiuc 2001:47, with references to various discussions, and Steinkeller 2006:2–7. 23 Compare the following Ebla entry for ‘crow’ in Krebernik 1983:13, 295: ugamušen = ga-rí-bù, ¶a-rí-bù(-um). See also Kogan 2001:278, 285; Wasserman 1999:345, n. 20, and the discussion of Huehnergard 2003. Consider Civil 1974– 1977:65 for the Sumerian equivalents. 24 See also Pentiuc 2001:54.

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11. Hh XVI, Emar 553 K (Msk 74199o):127, 4′ [na4-nun]uz

er-ni-tum ‘egg-shaped stone’

: ¶a-lu-l[u] ‘stone’

Both entries are well-documented words, although here seen with different renderings and vocalizations than what is found in the dictionaries. The first, er-ni-tum, is found under erimmatu (see CAD E 294).25 The second gloss is usually spelled ¶ulālu (see CAD Ú 226). For additional lexical data, compare MSL 10 (the Ugarit recension of Hh XVI), 40:85: na4nunuz = er-me!-tum and 107: na4-nír-[¶u-la-lum] = [¶u]-la-lu. 12. izi = išātu, Emar 564 (Msk 7490b):161, 1′26 áš

a-sa-ak-ku ‘disease’

: ¶ar-¶u-ru ‘disease’

Pentiuc 2001:80 and Sjöberg 2006:402 considered a-sa-ak-ku as the asakku/ ašakku disease. The second gloss was considered by Sjöberg 2006:402 to be a West Semitic word related to Hebrew ‫‘ חרחר‬fever.’ The gloss might indeed be connected etymologically, but consider also its relation to Akkadian arāru ‘to fear, be agitated’ (CAD A2 236–237). A similar lemma to the Emar gloss may be arurtu ‘disease,’ ‘twitching of the limbs’ (see CAD A2 324). The origin of the gloss remains unclear. 13. Hh Vb–VII, Emar 545 D (Msk 74209a+; the second gloss is not preserved) and H (Msk 74211):79, 518′ (giš) nam-gaz

ta-aš-šu ‘?’

: i-da-nu ša gišBAN ‘? of the bow’27

Both entries are obscure, but probably refer to weaponry, considering the mention of a ‘bow’ in the second gloss, and the place of these entries in the environment of other kinds of weapons.28 The origin of the gloss is not known.

25

The same spelling is found also in Emar 553:120, 28′ and 126, 24′; see n. 15. Emar 564 was assigned to the izi = išātu list by Civil 1989:20. The reading of the line follows Sjöberg 2006:402. 27 The reading follows Civil 1989:14. The following entry, 519′, should read: (giš) nam-gaz-bùr-bùr-ri ta-aš-šu pal-lu-šu ‘perforated ?’ For pallušu, see CAD P 505, sub pullušu. 28 Consider the relationship of the first gloss to daššu ‘(chariot-)part’ (see CAD D 120), sub daššu B and CAD P 19, sub pagūmu. For the Sumerian nam-gaz, earlier má-gaz, with the apparent meaning ‘slaughter-bench,’ given in CAD M1 128, sub makā´u, see Veldhuis 1997:187–188. 26

820

Peripheral Akkadian

14. Hh XIX, Emar 556 B (Msk 74190j):134, 19′ na-bá-su ‘red (wool)’

síg-¶é-me-ta

: i-Di-¢u

The first gloss nabāsu refers to the colour of the wool, namely, red; see CAD N1 21. The second gloss is perhaps to be read as i-ti4-¢u, etymologically related to ute¢¢û ‘to be darkened’ or (with metathesis) e¢ûtu ‘darkness.’ These two words are compared in the lexical tradition with iklētu ‘darkness’, da!āmu ‘to become dark’, da!ummatu ‘darkness.’ Compare síggi6 = a-tu-ú ‘black (wool)’ (MSL 10, 139:10; CAD A2 518, sub atû C); this lemma is perhaps etymologically related to e¢û ‘to be dark’ and should be more properly normalized as a¢û rather than atû. At this stage, it is best not to determine the origin of the second gloss because of the uncertainty of its normalization. 15. Hh XIV, Emar 551 A (= Msk 74171a):115, 51′ and 52′ [darà]-maš [darà]-maš-dù

a-ia-lu ‘stag’ na-lu ‘stag’

: i-la-nu ‘stag’ : MIN29

Both ayyalu and nālu are represented as equations of darà-maš in other lexical lists. The second gloss, however, is found in neither lexical lists nor other sources; it is reasonable to consider it a West Semitic word. See Pentiuc 2001:83 and SED II 38. 16. Hh Vb–VII, Emar 545 D (Msk 74209a+) and N (Msk 74146n; neither of the two glosses is preserved):74, 331′ il-li-el (giš) illar (= RU)

tá-al-pa-nu ‘bow’

: ir-ri-bu

The first gloss is found as tilpānu ‘bow (?)’ in CAD T 414ff. The second gloss, left untranslated in Pentiuc 2001:90, is to be normalized as errebu ‘enterer’ (cf. CAD E 304). This second gloss is the first of the qualifying terms of the bow, determined by RU (with RU = erēbu). It is followed in the Emar list by (332′–335′): RU.DU

šub-šub-ba RU-zi-ga RU-nigin

āliktu ‘going’ maqittu ‘attacking’ [t]ebūtu ‘raised’ s/ša¶irtu ‘returning’

29 This sign means ‘ditto’ in regard to the entry above it. The sign can appear also, as will be seen, in the Sumerian column, replacing the header or determinative to save repetious copying of the same sign over and over again.

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These are all entered as first (!) glosses. Compare a similar sequence in MSL 6, 88–89 and 109. The second gloss, to conclude, can be considered Akkadian. 17. lú = ša, Emar 602 A (Msk 74121):191, 370′ síg-gal4-la ‘female pubic hair’

su-u¶-šu ‘crotch, vagina’

: iz-bu ‘miscarried fetus’

The usual equivalent of the Sumerian síg-gal4-la is Akkadian bi´´ūru ‘female genitalia’ or ūru ‘nakedness’ (as an euphemism).30 The first gloss su¶šu or su¶su, although unusual, is not an isolated case.31 Compare with SpTU IV (lú = ša list):190 i 20: [síg-ga]l4-la = su-u¶-su.32 Therefore, although translated as ‘bed’ in CAD S 349 sub su¶su, the correct meaning of this word, on the basis of the lexical data, is ‘crotch’ or ‘vagina.’33 This can be verified also on account of contextual usage in Late Old Babylonian izbu omens, one of which reads “if a woman gives birth to a fetus and it is female, its nipples are both located in its su¶su; and its genitalia (bi´´ūru) on its chest; but a testicle and a penis are located in the place of the genitalia (so and so will happen).”34 From this citation it is clear that su¶s/šu must mean an organ—without doubt, the genital region. The second gloss izbu ‘miscarried fetus’ in the Emar list refers to the omen genre where the term su¶s/šu is found.35 Rather than being a translation, the second gloss, an Akkadian word obviously, is a learned commentary which indexes the first gloss according to its generic usage. 18. Hh XI–XII, Emar 584 (Msk 7484c):175, 3′36 [kuš-lá-lá]

[ku-ru]-us-su ‘leather-strap’

: ka-ri-su ‘leather-strap’

The second gloss, as Pentiuc 2001:94 suggests, is a variant on the first, with a different vocalization; see CAD K 581 and MSL 7, 128:113: kuš.lá.lá = ku-ru-us-su. Hence both glosses are Akkadian. 30

See Civil 2006. The gloss is not a hapax, pace Civil 2006:55 and note 3. 32 Reference courtesy of Jon Taylor. 33 See the subsequent suggestion in CAD P 453, which gives the translation “pubes (?)” on the basis of the Emar list. 34 The omen is taken from izbu omens of the Schøyen Collection to be published by Andrew George and cited here with his kind permission. 35 Following a suggestion of Andrew George (personal communication). 36 Identification of fragment and restoration by Civil 1989:16. 31

822

Peripheral Akkadian

*19. Hh Vb–VII, Emar 545 D (Msk 74209a+) and L (Msk 74158f) + X (Msk 74107w):76, 411′37 (giš) bún-[…]

[…]

: la-¶u ‘?’

The Sumerian is poorly preserved and the first gloss entry is missing. The second gloss la-¶u remains obscure. The section seems to be concerned with musical instruments, hence bún as bellows or bladder, if that is what the broken Sumerian entry refers to here, might direct us towards thinking that la¶u is some kind of a musical instrument or one of its parts. 20. Hh Vb–VII, Emar 545 L (Msk 74158f):78, 471′ [(giš) …]

kul-BE-tum ‘jar’

: ma-aD-ri-iG-tu

Pentiuc 2001:113–114 suggests the reading kulmittu or kulbattu ‘jar’ for the first gloss as in CAD K 526. The second gloss remains obscure with no clear root derivation. It is apparent, however, that some kind of utensil is meant, probably built on the nomen instrumenti maprast (cf. GAG § 56c). Consider its relation to darāku ‘to pack’ (only in OA sources) in CAD D 108–109 and AHw. 163. Its origin remains obscure. *21. izi = išātu, Emar 537 J (Msk 74127n (+) 74238n):30, 4′38 gaz

[…]-x

: ma-¶a-´um ‘to crush’

The first gloss is lost; the second gloss is Akkadian ma¶ā´u ‘to crush’, a suitable equivalent for gaz. See also MSL 14, 100:608. 22. lú = ša, Emar 602 A (Msk 74121) and E (Msk 74158d + 74169a; neither of the two glosses is preserved):188, 271′ gu-da / gudu4

[pa-š]i-šu ‘priest’

: ma-¶i-ru ‘servant’

For the first gloss, see the Emar citation in CAD P 253, sub pašīšu. The second gloss is probably an Akkadian word derived from ma¶āru, perhaps in the sense of ‘to serve, to approach, to pray’. See also Pentiuc 2001:119.

37

The line is restored according to Civil 1989:13. See Civil 1989:20 for the assignment of Emar 537 J to the izi = išātu list, and Pentiuc 2001:79. 38

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823

23. Hh Vb–VII, Emar 545 D (Msk 74209a+; the second gloss is not preserved) and H (Msk 74211):79, 522′ (giš) sìl-la-umbin

mu-mar-ri-tum ‘cutting implement, weapon type’

: ma-la-¶u ‘cutting, shearing’

The first gloss is listed and translated, as Pentiuc 2001:126 observes, in CAD M2 196 as a ‘scraping or combing tool.’ It is more likely that the gloss is to be translated as some kind of a cutting implement or a weapon-type, perhaps a curved claw-like short sword or dagger.39 Note the following entry, Emar 545:79, 523′: (giš) tukul-sìl-la-umbin = kak-ki mu-mar-ri-ti; and MSL 6 (Hh VII), 86:27 and 101:210: giš.tukul / giš.níg.umbin = (kak-ki) mu-mar-ri-ti. Given the alternative equation (in another manuscript) of mumarritu to giš.níg.sík (see MSL 6 ibid.),40 we understand it could perhaps be used as a shearing instrument. The second gloss explains what is done with this implement: cutting or shearing. Hence, compare mala¶u to malaku ‘a cut (of meat),’ on the basis of MSL 9 (ÚAR-gud commentary to Hh XV), 35:47 and 37:50: [uzu]-sìl-gal = ma-la-ku = ditto. Both mala¶u and malaku might, in fact, be the same lemma, considering the quite common /¶/ and /k/ alteration in Akkadian. However, given the fact that the second gloss is not attested in other sources, it is perhaps best to leave its origin undetermined. 24. Hh XI–XII, Emar 548 E (Msk 74104i; neither of the two glosses is preserved) and I (Msk 74156e; the Glossenkeil mark is missing):92, 116 kuš-e-sír-íb

še-nu ‘sandal’

‹:› ma-sa-[nu] ‘sandal’

The second gloss masānu presents a different vocalization than mešēnu ‘sandal,’ as it is listed in CAD M2 38. Both glosses, hence, are Akkadian. 25. Hh XVII–XVIII, Emar 555 J (Msk 74103e) + H (Msk 7481n):131, 52’41 [šen-šen-bal-ba-úš (mušen)]

[¶ar/¶urba]-qà-an-nu

: ma-´i-´i-ia-[…]

39 Jean-Marie Durand (personal communication) mentions that the king of Mari was armed with a mumarritu, surely then a type of weapon. The word literally means ‘the one who makes (the enemies’ life) bitter,’ derived from the Semitic root m-r-r; see also Durand 1993:53–54. The word in CAD M2 196, however, is derived from arû ‘to cut branches’ (see CAD A2 317, sub arû C). 40 See also Veldhuis 1997:189. 41 The line is restored following Civil 1989:19.

824

Peripheral Akkadian

The second gloss is obviously a bird name, given as a synonym or a gloss to [¶ar/¶urba]qan(n)u (see CAD Ú 97). It is not listed, however, in the dictionaries and is not known from elsewhere, hence its origin is obscure. 26. lú = ša, Emar 602 D (Msk 74148b):188, 245′ (šab) MIN

na-aš-pa-ku! ‘storage(-vessel, -room)’

: ma-ši-mu ‘storage-room’

For the first gloss našpaku ‘storage(-vessel, -room)’, see CAD N2 66. The second gloss is probably a West Semitic word for ‘storeroom’, which can be compared to Hebrew ‫אסם‬0‘barn’; see also Pentiuc 2001:123. Consider also two Akkadian cognates or possibly loan-words, both meaning ‘storehouse’: ammušmu (CAD A2 77), and išittu, the latter of which is equated with sissimu ‘granary’ in Malku I (CAD I/J 243 and S 325).42 27. Hh Vb–VII, Emar 545 H (Msk 74211) and AB (Msk 74199j):72, 243′ (giš) sag-du

a-sú-ú ‘loom part’

: na-ba-lu ‘harp’/‘hanging’

The first gloss is asû (alternatively listed as esû) ‘a wooden part of the loom’ (CAD A2 347, sub asû B and CAD E 338, sub esû A). The second gloss, as suggested by Pentiuc 2001:131, is derived from the West Semitic root n-p-l ‘to fall.’ If it is normalized as nabalu, it can be perhaps related etymologically to Hebrew ‫נבל‬0‘harp,’ because of the latter’s shared shape with a loom: a wooden frame with suspended strings (considering that this is what an ancient harp was). The gloss is not attested elsewhere. 28. Hh XVI, Emar 553 A (Msk 74230a):121, 93′ [(na4) min-nír-á-šuba (= ZA+SUÚ)]

[a-š]u-ku-ut-tum ‘wedge (of the precious stone ¶ulālu)’

: nu-!-bu ‘a small piece (of precious stone)’

Compare the appearance of the first gloss [a]šukutu in the Ugarit recension of this tablet (MSL 10, 42:118): na4-nír-á-šuba (= ZA+SUÚ) = a-ši-kutu. The second gloss nu!bu is attested in an Emar ephemeral document, where a ransom for the Hurrian king is discussed.43 Although Pentiuc 2001:134–135 and Seminara 1997 argued that the second gloss nu!bu is a local or West Semitic word, it can be taken, in fact, as a variant of Ak42

See Lambert 1995. Sigrist 1993, no. 6:9–10: 4 DUMU.MUNUS.MEŠ-šu qa-du na4nu-bi-šu-nu ‘his four daughters with their pieces of (precious-)stones.’ For a discussion of this text, see Cohen–d’Alfonso 2008 with previous literature. 43

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825

kadian nību ‘a small piece (of a precious stone)’ (see CAD N2 206, sub nību B).44 The spelling of nu!bu with the glottal stop should not be taken as a necessary indication of a local form. Many Akkadian words in the Emar lexical lists are supplied with the glottal stop, whereas in the core area they are not (see, e. g., no. 45). 29. Hh XVI, Emar 553 A (Msk 74230a+):121, 96′ [(na4) (nír) min-giš-dub]

[ni-iš-d]u-up-pu ‘plaque made of precious stone’

: nid-du-pu! ‘plaque of precious stone’

The first gloss denotes a plaque made of a precious stone (see CAD G 109). The second gloss expresses another pronunciation of the same word, originally Sumerian. The signs are to be read neither uš-du-pu (per Arnaud) nor uš-du-te (with copy, per Pentiuc 2001:191) but nid-du-pu!.45 Compare MSL 10 (the Ugarit recension), 42:122: na4-nír-giš-dub = ni-išdu-pu; and ibid., 5:31: na4-giš-dub-du8-ši-a = giš-dup-p[u]. 30. izi = išātu, Emar 564 (Msk 7490b):161, 4′46 […]

ni-is-sà-tum ‘grief ’

: pu-šu-u¢-¢ú! ‘discomfort’

The first gloss means ‘grief ’ or ‘discomfort.’ For the second gloss, Pentiuc 2001:42 reconstructs bušuttu, which he considers a local word meaning ‘grief,’ ‘depression.’47 More likely, in our opinion, however, is to reconstruct the gloss as Akkadian puššu¢u (D stem of pašā¢u), in spite of the difficulty which the defective spelling presents. Although in its restricted sense the verb pašā¢u means ‘to obliterate’, it can be used to describe a condition of the exta, medical symptoms, and celestial phenomena. Note that the D stem commonly describes diseases and physical handicaps (see CAD P 251). 31. Hh Vb–VII, Emar 545 D (Msk 74209a+), AO (Msk 74122e; Sumerian col. preserved), and Z (Msk 74233b; only the second gloss is preserved):76, 391′ (giš) (á-)zánaru (= ZA-dINANNA)

44

za-na-ru ‘musical instrument’

: qà-an tá-bi-tum : qà-an tá-bi-ti-iš ‘musical instrument; like/in the manner of a m.i.’

See such a spelling in Hh XVI, Emar 553:124, 209′: na4 ni-bi. Likewise, read Emar 282:21: na4 nid!-dup-pu! (an inventory from “Temple M1”). 46 Emar 564 is assigned to izi = išātu by Civil 1989:20. 47 See also Sjöberg 2006:403. 45

826

Peripheral Akkadian

The first gloss is listed as zannaru ‘lyre’ in CAD Z 46. There it is considered a foreign word attested only in first millennium ‘canonical’ lexical lists, such as the ÚAR-gud commentary (MSL 6, 142:166) and Diri (MSL 15, 138:43). It is difficult to know when this word entered the lexical tradition, although the Middle Babylonian period would be the latest, on the basis of the Emar manuscript.48 The second gloss, definitely not a local word,49 is probably the Akkadian translation of the first: qan tabbitum or qan tabbitiš.50 It does not seem to rely on the Sumerian entry, because qanû equals gi and not giš. For combinations with qan X, see MSL 7, 67 and CAD Q 85ff. The incorrect ending of the nomen rectum need not trouble us: it can be compared with entries like kuš-balag = ma-šak balag-gu or kuš-balag-di = ma-šak tim-bu-tu (MSL 7, 136:265–266); compare also no. 48. For tabbitum → tambuttu or timbuttu, see CAD T 417. 32. lú = ša, Emar 602 A (Msk 74121; Sumerian missing) and AD (Msk 7495a; almost totally gone):191, 366′ […]

qú-ur-ru-ru ‘craftsman’

: qà-ar-[ra-ru] ‘crafts[man]?’

With the Sumerian entry missing, the first gloss not attested as such in the dictionaries, and the second gloss only partly preserved, it is difficult to offer a fully satisfactory explanation to these entries. It is possible that the first gloss is an assimilated form (or perhaps a scribal mistake) of qurqurru/gurgurru ‘craftsman’ (see CAD G 137). If that is the case, the second gloss gives perhaps a different realization of the same lemma: qar[rarru] or qar[qarru].51 Because of the uncertainty of this restoration, the origin of the gloss is left undetermined. *33. Hh XVI, Emar 553 K (Msk 74199o):127, 5′ [na4-nunuz-tu]r

´i-ip-ru ‘precious stone trim’

: ri-i[ ¢-bu] ‘ “sprouting” precious stone trim’

Both glosses are attested in the lexical tradition. The first gloss can be compared to MSL 10 (ÚAR-gud commentary of Hh XVI), 33:104: na4nunuz-tur-tur = ´ip-ri-e-tum = pur-¢a-a-tum (see CAD Ô 202, sub ´ipirtu

48

The word is possibly documented as an Akkadian loan much earlier, already at Old Akkadian Nippur (see Steinkeller 1993:145). 49 Compare Pentiuc 2001:92. 50 The reading of Arnaud 1985–1987 IV 76, followed by Pentiuc 2001:92, is: ka[a]n-da-bi-tu4 / ka-an-da-bi-ti-iš. 51 Compare Pentiuc 2001:92.

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827

B). The second gloss appears under a different vocalization in the same entry of the Ugarit recension of Hh XVI (MSL 10, 43:149): [na4]c nunuzd-tur = ra-a¢-bu. The attestation of the gloss, albeit with a different spelling, in Mesopotamian sources, leads us to consider this word as Akkadian. *34. Hh XVI, Emar 553 A (Msk 74230+):121, 91′ (na4) (nír) min-babbar-dili

: sa-a-su ‘precious stone’

pá-pár-di-lu-u ‘precious stone’

Both entries are found in the lexical tradition, although not equated to each other (see CAD P 107 and CAD S 197). 35. lú = ša, Emar 602 A (Msk 74121) and D (Msk 74148b; only the first gloss is preserved):187, 206′ ugula šidim (= DÍM)

i-ti-in-ni ‘(the overseer of the) builder’

: M[IN s]i-kà-rum ‘ditto (the overseer of the) worker’

The first gloss is Akkadian itinnu ‘builder’ (with ugula = (w)akil ‘overseer of ’ not repeated). The second is a variant on Akkadian sēkiru and sekkiru (also sakkiru is attested), both appearing in the lexical tradition, although not equated with itinnu (see CAD S 214 and Pentiuc 2001:159). *36. Hh XIII, Emar 550 E (Msk 7522):111, 173′ (gud) ki-dIškur-ri

ni-qi-i ‘offerings’

: ša dIŠ[KUR] ‘belonging to Adad’

The second gloss simply specifies, as the Sumerian entry, for or to whom the offerings belong: ‘(bull-)offering belonging to or for Adad.’ 37. Hh XVII–XVIII, Emar 579 (Msk 74165c):173, 9′ and 10′52 [súr-dù (mušen)]

[ka-s]u-su ‘hawk’

: ša-a-i-[?] ‘?’

The first gloss means ‘hawk’; the second is unclear. Pentiuc 2001:165 cites Civil (personal communication) for the meaning ‘falcon, hawk.’53 Black–AlRawi 1987:126, 13 have ši-u-um, which is an entry for a bird-type in an Old Babylonian bird-list, possibly related, like the second gloss, to Akkadian šâ!u ‘to fly about.’ However, since the second gloss never appears elsewhere, and its meaning is not known, it is best to suspend judgement concerning its origin. 52 53

See Civil 1989:19 and Pentiuc 2001:165. For a possible Ugaritic cognate, see Watson 2002.

828

Peripheral Akkadian

38. Hh XVII–XVIII, Emar 555 F (Msk 74158r) and K (Msk 7467; exercise, the second gloss is not provided):131, 70′ sim-ma¶ (mušen)

si-nu-un-tum ‘swallow’

: ša-!-ba

The second gloss is unknown from elsewhere, and it is possibly a West Semitic word, but this is yet to be verified (see Pentiuc 2001:168). 39. Hh VIII–IX, Emar 546 A (Msk 74155+):82, 9 (gi) min-izi-lá

gi-zi-lu-u ‘torch’

: šab-bu-¢u ‘staff ’

The first gloss gizillû is the Akkadianized form of gi-izi-lá. The second gloss is a different vocalization of Akkadian šabbi¢u ‘staff ’ (see CAD Š1 10). 40. Hh XVI, Emar 553 A (Msk 74230a):120, 29′ za-ki-i[n] (na4) za.gìn

uq-nu ‘lapis’

: ša-a-da-[nu] ‘hematite’

The second gloss is šadânu ‘hematite,’ a word well attested in Mesopotamian sources, hence not local (see CAD Š1 36). *41. izi = išātu, Emar 537 J (Msk 74127n + 74238n):30, 5′54 gaz

[da-k]a-ku ‘to crush’

: Šar-Pa-u ‘?’

The restoration of the first gloss as dakāku ‘to crush’ is uncertain.55 The second gloss was read by Arnaud as šar-pa-u, but the meaning and etymology remain obscure. *42. lú = ša, Emar 602 A (Msk 74121):191, 380′ [bur]-šúm-ma

pu-ur-šum-tum ‘old woman’

: munusši-ib-tu ‘old woman’

The second gloss provides a synonym to the Sumerian entry. The word is obviously Akkadian (see CAD P 525 and Š2 390ff.). 43. Hh Vb–VII, Emar 545 D (Msk 74209a+; the second gloss is not preserved) and Y (Msk 74146g+) + H (Msk 74211) + AF (Msk 74233e):69, 120′56 (giš) apin/àbsin

54

[e-pu-u]n-nu ‘plow’ e-p[í-nu]

: ši-ir-¶a-tù ‘furrow(s)’

See Civil 1989:20 and Pentiuc 2001:79; edited mistakenly as a manuscript of the Emar Sa Vocabulary, Emar 537. 55 Compare MSL 17, 225:164: gaz = [da-ka-k]u, and CAD D 34 sub dakāku ‘to crush.’ 56 Restored according to Civil 1989:12.

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829

The first gloss is [epu]nnu or ep[innu] ‘plow.’ The second gloss šer¶ātu is obviously related to, if not simply, a fem. pl. form of Akkadian šer¶u ‘furrow’. The gloss, rather than explaining or providing a synonym for the Akkadian, gives another meaning for the Sumerian entry apin. Compare MSL 14, 133 ii 3ff., where (giš) apin is equated with epinnum ‘plow,’ erēšum ‘plowing,’ ikkarum ‘plower’/‘farmer,’ šer¶um ‘furrow’ and absinnum ‘furrow’ (for the last two equations the Sumerian sign is to be read àbsin). Civil’s equation (in Pentiuc 2001:172) of the Emar gloss with an Ebla lexical entry su-¶a-tum is valid, but that is not necessarily an indication the word is originally West Semitic. 44. Hh Vb–VII, Emar 545 D (Msk 74209a) and Y (Msk 74146g+) + H (Msk 74211) + AF (Msk 74233e):69, 117′57 [(giš) na-ba-rum]

ta-ab-bu-uk-ku ‘heaped-up grain’

: ta-ab-ku8 ‘storage of grain’

The restoration of this line is not certain. The first gloss is based on Y (which does not have a second gloss at all). The second gloss is based on D which reads: […]-ku? ta-ab-gu. Manuscripts Y + H + AF, according to Civil 1989:12, continue here with: [(giš) na]-ba-rum = MIN; [(giš) na]-barum = MIN. This means that, if Civil’s restoration is accepted, [(giš) naba-rum] = tabbukku and tabku. Sumerian na-ba-rum is a back-formation of Akkadian nabāru which means ‘cage’ or ‘enclosure.’ It is compared in Malku V, along with rā¢u ‘channel’ and ´urru ‘insides,’ to libbu ‘insides,’ ‘center.’58 This leads us to suggest that both glosses, if indeed equated with na-ba-rum (= nabāru), are derivations of tabāku ‘to heap up, store’, comparable to tabku ‘stores of grain’, tubbuku ‘stored (barley)’, or tubukkû ‘heaped-up grain.’59 Because Hh Vb–VII is concerned with various tools and implements (as indicated by the head-sign giš), the meaning of both glosses is perhaps some implement for seeding or heaping up grain, in the shape of a funnel or some other closed container. 45. lú = ša, Emar 602 A (Msk 74121):191, 373′ eme-da

57

ta-ri-tum ‘nursemaid’

: ta-ri-!-tum ‘nursemaid’

See Civil 1989:12. See CAD N1 21. 59 See CAD T 28–29, 445–446 and 448, respectively. Consider also tubuqtu (CAD T 449), or perhaps tubuktu, whose meaning is uncertain, but might denote a storehouse. 58

830

Peripheral Akkadian

The second gloss is the same as the first, only with a glottal stop spelling, a feature common to this and other lexical lists from Emar (see CAD T 232 sub tārītu). 46. Hh Vb–VII, Emar 545 D (Msk 74209a+; neither of the two glosses is preserved) and H (Msk 74211):79, 516′ šid-šid […] šid-x[…]

¶é-la-pu ‘willow’

: ti-iš-tu ‘?’

The first gloss means ‘willow’ (see CAD Ú 185 sub ¶ilēpu). The second gloss is obscure, but as Pentiuc 2001:182 says, it could denote the local term for such a tree-type. 47. lú = ša, Emar 602 A (Msk 74121), D (Msk 74148b), S (Msk 74146d), and Msk 74129d:187, 217′ [ug]ula-é-du[b]-ba-a

[šatam é]-du-bi [‘supervisor of the sch]ool’

: tu-ra-ta!-nu [: tar]-te-en-nu ‘supervisor’

The equation of the Sumerian and its glosses as found in Arnaud’s edition is made up of four different fragmentary manuscripts and therefore it is not entirely secure.60 The second gloss, whatever its definite Sumerian and Akkadian equations might be, is the term tur(a)tannu (with an anaptyctic vowel to break the consonantal cluster /rt/) or [tar]tennu, originally of Hurrian origin. The word is found in the lexical tradition in MSL 12, 238:1–2 (NA List of Professions) and is known from a variety of Akkadian sources. The word itself is known also in the Emar ephemeral documents (see Pentiuc 2001:181). *48. Hh Vb–VII, Emar 545 E (Msk 74234c):75, 381′ (giš) balag-di

ti-im-bu-!-[tum] ‘musical instrument’

[: t]ù-ub-bu ‘musical instrument’61

The second gloss is a variant of the first gloss, Akkadian timbu!u[tum] ‘musical instrument’ or ‘harp’ (see CAD T 417, and compare there the second gloss with tibbu!u). Compare also Heb. ‫ תוף‬and Ug. tp. 49. lú = ša, Emar 602 A (Msk 74121) and AD (Msk 7495a; heavily broken and only parts of the Sumerian are preserved):191, 371′ pi-in-zi-ir 60 61

li-pí-is-si20-tum ‘vulva’

: ¢á-an-na-pu ‘dirty’

The reconstruction of this entry is based on Taylor 2001:564, l. 34. Arnaud 1985–1987 IV 75:381′: […]x-up-pu.

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The Sumerian entry pi-in-zi-ir is a back-formation from the Akkadian bi´´ūru ‘vulva’ (see no. 17, CAD P 452, and Civil 2006). The first gloss is found under lipiššatu ‘vulva’ in CAD L 199. The second gloss is an euphemism which needs no explanation. This parras form derives from Akkadian ¢anāpu ‘to be dirty’ (see CAD à 46–47 and Pentiuc 2001:186–187). It is likely that the gloss is Akkadian, because a similar lemma is known in the lexical tradition. Consider MSL 14, 409:65ff.: (lu-um) lum = tabāštānu ‘excrement,’ ¢unnupu ‘to dirty,’ and russû ‘to sully.’ The verb ¢anāpu (in the D Stem) is apparently found in an Emar ritual (Emar 474: 6′, see CAD à 47), although the context is obscure because of the poor preservation of the lines. For a discussion and a different suggestion, see Pentiuc 2001:186. 50. Hh XVII–XVIII, Emar 555 F (Msk 74158r) and K (Msk 7467; an exercise; the second gloss is not provided):131, 71′ tu (mušen)

su-um-ma-tum ‘dove’

: PI-at-tum ‘dove’

The first gloss is summatum ‘dove’; the second gloss is reconstructed by Pentiuc 2001:139 as yattu or possibly wattu (following Arnaud), etymologically related to Hebrew ‫יונה‬0‘dove’ (see also SED II 321). The word is probably West Semitic. 51. Hh XIII, Emar 550 E (Msk 7522):112, 225′ [(anše) min-gìr-nun]-na

ku-da-nu ‘mule’

: ú-BI-ia-an-nu ‘?’

The second gloss is totally obscure. See Pentiuc 2001:187–188. 52. Hh XIV, Emar 551 A (Msk 74171a):115, 37′ az

a-su ‘bear’

: za-ba-ú ‘animal-type’

The second gloss denotes some kind of animal, probably a bear or hyena (see SED II 285 and compare Hebrew ‫צבוע‬0‘hyena’). Not found in other Akkadian sources, and with valid West Semitic cognates, the gloss is probably a West Semitic word. The spelling -ba-ú could be an indication of an aleph (see Pentiuc 2001:161). In the lexical tradition dabû is found equated with the more common Akkadian asu ‘bear’ (probably a loan from Sumerian). Note [giš]-az = a-su = da-bu-u (Hg A i 222) and da-abbu, a-su = da-bu-u (Malku V 50) in CAD D 17. 53 (a + b). lú = ša, Emar 602 A (Msk 74121):185, 105′ (šà-tam) min-nam-dumu-a-ni

(šatam) ma-ru-ut-ti-šu ‘supervisor of adoption’

MIN

: zu ma-a´-¶a-ra-ta-šu ‘the one of the “youth” ’

832

Peripheral Akkadian

The second gloss consists of two words. a. The pronoun zū ‘he,’ ‘this one’ reflects the local language; it is well attested in local names (e. g., Zū-Ba"la ‘the one of Ba"al’; Zū-Aštarti ‘the one of Aštarte,’ etc.). b. The word ma´¶arata-šu could be a variant of Akkadian me´¶erūtu (CAD M2 36–37), but this is unlikely, because of the preceeding zū and its -a case ending. Hence, it is probably West Semitic ‘youth’ or the like (see Pentiuc 2001:116). The suffix pronoun -šu is due to Akkadian interference (see Ikeda 2003:268–269). *54. Hh XVI, Emar 553 B (Msk 74198af):125, 229′ and 230′ [(in-gi) min-b]a-ra ½ gín [(in-gi) min-ši-n]a-bi ⅔-na-bi gín

zu-uz ši-ni-pu

: ½ GÍ[N] : 40 GÍN

The second gloss here is explanatory: it tells us that zūzu is indeed a halfunit and šinipu are 40 shekels, or two-thirds of 60.62

62 In addition to these secure readings, there are six second glosses in a very fragmentary state; nonetheless, they are cited here in order to present the data fully and invite others to suggest restorations and comparisons. The Emar lists contain additional Glossenkeil signs whose glosses, however, are totally missing; these were not included here. *55. Hh Vb–VII, Emar 545 AE (Msk 74204c) (+) H (Msk 74211) and D (Msk 74209+; no gloss):79, 529′: ti-¶i (giš) dì¶ (= NIM) = a-ša-gu ‘acacia’ = : a?-[...] (see CAD A2 408–409). 56. Hh Vb–VII, Emar 545 D (Msk 74209a+) and O (Msk 7498m; the second gloss is not preserved):74, 314′: ¶ar-mušen-na = ¶u-¶a-ru ‘snare’ = : ¶u-ra-[?]. Perhaps restore ¶u--ra-[tu] ‘sna[res]’!. 57. Hh Vb–VII, Emar 545 D (Msk 74209a+) and H (Msk 74211) + AL (Msk 74238h) + AH (Msk 74197h):71, 225′: šu¶ub4! (= ŠU--E[Š]) = [me-di-lu ‘bolt’] = [: x]-la-ra-ma / [: ?]-ced-la-ra-mu. The reconstruction of this line is not secure (see Civil 1989:8 and 12 and MSL 6, 27–28:265–267). *58. Hh Vb–VII, Emar 545 D (Msk 74209a+) and K (Msk 74238d; only the Sumerian is preserved): 73, 298′: (giš) sa-a = še-e-tum ‘net’ = : ma-[...]; see the entries in MSL 6, 67ff. and 78, 26. *59. Hh XVIII, Emar 555 B (Msk 74100c) + C (Msk 74100a): 132, 97′: urudù-maš-mušen = x-x-x = : MUŠEN ša ku-ub-ši. The first gloss is lost; the second gloss means ‘bird with a crest’ or the like (see CAD K 486). *60. Hh XVI, Emar 553 A (Msk 74230a): 120, 48′: [na4-...] = […] = [: …](-)tuud-du ¶a-ar-ru.

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Discussion We have collected altogether 61 second glosses which appear in the Emar lexical lists ÚAR-ra = ¶ubullu, lú = ša and izi = išātu. Of these 61, six are in a broken state and resist identification; and three are either proper nouns and/or explanatory.63 Hence we are left with 52 glosses to work with. They can be assigned to three main categories: Akkadian, West Semitic, and undefinable words (mostly of a Semitic origin). We can now try to provide an answer to the question posed in the title of this paper: are the Emar second glosses West Semitic or Akkadian? There are 25 glosses which can be considered Akkadian either because of their root and root-pattern, their being loan-words from Sumerian, or their long attestation in Mesopotamian sources (even if ultimately they are loan-words from other languages). Also counted as Akkadian glosses are those which display a vocalization different than the lemmata listed in the Akkadian dictionaries. These forms are not to be treated as local words because they have mostly well-documented diachronic and sometimes synchronic (in Emar as in other contemporary sites) attestations displaying either close or similar spellings to those in the Emar lists. Indeed, some of the second glosses simply provide a differently spelled form than that given as the first gloss. The Akkadian glosses are ba[šmu] (5), du¶šu (7), elallu (8), errebu (16), izbu (17), ma¶ā´um (21), mā¶iru (22), puššu¢u (30), qan tabbitum and qan tabbitiš (31), sāsu (34), šadânu (40), šībtu (42), šer¶ātu (43), tabku (44), and ¢annapu (49). Akkadian glosses which display a non-standard spelling or pronunciation are ¶alūl[u] (11), karissu (18; glossing the first entry [kur]ussu), masā[nu] (24), nu"bu (28), niddupu (29; glossing [nišd]uppu), ri[¢bu] (33), [s]īkarum (35), šabbu¢u (39), tāri!tum (45; glossing tārītum) and [t]ubbu (48; glossing timbu!u[tum]).64 It is notoriously difficult to determine West Semitic forms in Akkadian texts, either from the so-called Western Periphery, Emar being no excep-

63

Three glosses which are either proper nouns and/or explanatory are Aš-tar (4), ša dIš[kur] (36), and ½ / 40 GÍ[N] (54). 64 The lexical lists from Emar, and also from Ugarit (see, e. g., Huehnergard 1989:13), are full of ‘non-standard’ spellings of Akkadian words, but it is not as yet clear whether the origin of these spellings is due to local phonological restraints and conditions (in which case, the variants in each site arose independently), or rather to the common source of their lexical materials. See the discussion below. MUL

834

Peripheral Akkadian

tion, or from Mesopotamia proper.65 The basic criterion, applicable to our glosses as well, is the distribution of the forms: whether they appear in Western Peripheral or Mesopotamian sources, in which textual genres, in what periods, and their overall frequency. An additional criterion is the degree of closeness the gloss displays to West Semitic cognates documented elsewhere, i. e., not in Akkadian sources. Answering these criteria are 10 glosses: anu (1), arwu (3), gurdimu (10), ilanu (15), ma´¶arata-šu (53b), mašimu (26), nabalu (27), w/yattum (50), Zaba!u (52), and zū (53a). Because detailed explanations for the inclusion of the glosses were given for each and every case in the presentation of the data above, there is no need for repetition here but to state that the Emar West Semitic glosses are documented almost exclusively in lexical sources, the majority of which are the Emar lists themselves.66 There are 16 second glosses whose origin and (sometimes) meaning remain equally obscure, although, for the most part, their Semitic root can be extracted. These are: argabu (2), dapāru (6), girribu (9), ¶ar¶uru (12), idanu (13), i-Di-¢u (14), la¶u (19), maDriGtu (20), mala¶u (23), ma´i´ia[?] (25), qar[raru ?] (32), ša-a-i-[?] (37), ša!ba (38), šar-pa-u (41), ti-iš-tu (46), and ú-BI-iannu (51). Because these glosses are rarely or not at all attested in other sources, some may indeed be West Semitic words or, on the other hand, Semitic words of a wide distribution with no clear origin, such as argabu (2), or girribu (9). One single gloss can be indentified as Hurrian: tur(a)tannu/[tar]tennu (47). It is found as a load-word in West Periphery Akkadian and contemporary and later Mesopotamian sources. What are we to make of the data presented here? The distribution pattern that emerges is that out of 52 second glosses about a half are Akkadian words (25 entries), a fifth West Semitic (10 entries), and less than a third are basically either Akkadian or West Semitic (16 entries). Because of the high percentage of Akkadian words, it is clear that the inclusion of the second glosses was not primarily intended to supply translations of Akkadian words into the local language. Rather the intention was to supply synonyms, related terms, or explanations to the first gloss, without a

65

See the assessments of Ikeda 2003; Pentiuc 2001:12–15 and Huehnergard 1987. Compare the criteria of determining Aramaic loanwords in Akkadian in Abraham–Sokoloff, forthcoming. 66 Nos. 1, 3, and 10 are found in other lexical lists; the rest of the glosses only in Emar.

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835

specific regard of the target language.67 The fact that many of the Akkadian second glosses are ‘rare’ words—either hardly known from elsewhere but the lexical tradition and/or displaying aberrant spellings— shows us that the aim of their inclusion was not necessarily to clarify a difficult first gloss, but simply to provide an additional entry. Moreover, it is inconceivable, in our mind, that learned entries, such as argabu, Aštar MUL, or izbu, would have been at the immediate disposal of the local scribes for the purpose of “translation.”68 The purpose of the second gloss, to conclude, was not merely to translate, but rather to amass additional data to the lexical lists. Instead of having synonyms or related terms added to the second column one beneath the other, new entries were added in a third column to the right of the second. When the particular distribution of the glosses across textual genres is given attention, it can be seen that two of the ten second glosses considered West Semitic appear in the lexical list Malku, which purposely lists foreign or rare words besides the common Akkadian equivalents.69 And an additional ten of the second glosses identified as Akkadian are likewise documented in Malku, and in other lexical sources, such as ÚAR-gud, Silbenvokabular A (both commentaries in essence), Hh, and others.70 This rather high percentage (a bit under a quarter) is an indication that these words, in large uncommon, were part of the Mesopotamian lexical tradition, some, at least, already by the end of the second millennium. 67 It is worthwhile to contrast our view with Civil’s evaluation of the second glosses situation in his 1989 review of Arnaud 1985–1987. Civil (1989:8) says that “(t)he inadequacy of the traditional Mesopotamian lexical lists to reflect the current language of the area is shown by the presence of glosses that accompany some of the entries (around forty in total). Some of them are mere explanatory … [no. 42], others expected … [no. 3], but others are completely new like … [nos. 43 and 57]. The study of these glosses, coupled with an analysis of exotic words in legal and administrative texts, will throw much needed light on the linguistic conditions of the area.” The square brackets replace, for the sake of brevity, Civil’s full citations of entries already given in the present article. 68 Only five second glosses were dispersed in other Emar sources, i. e., ephemeral documents and rituals: Aštar (MUL) (4), niddup(p)u (29), nu!bu (28), tur(a)tannu/ [tar]tennu (47), and zū (53a; in PNs only). The scarcity of the items in Emar, however, is not unique and agrees with the general low dispersal of Western Periphery lexical entries (in Akkadian and as well as in other languages) elsewhere than the lexical lists. 69 The entries are anu (1), and arwu (3). 70 These are argabu (2), Aštar MUL (4), ba[šmu] (5), dapāru (6), du¶šu (7), elallu (8), sāsu (34), šadân[u] (40), šībtu (42), and tur(a)tennu/[tar]tennu (47).

836

Peripheral Akkadian

Four glosses (nos. 18, 29, 45 and 48), which directly supply a different spelling or vocalization of the first entries, also speak of a phenomenon associated with Mesopotamian scribal circles. Recording variants in lexical lists (and especially in their commentaries and other learned compositions) is a well-recognized feature typical of learned exegesis.71 It can be detected also in other Emar lists: at times, some variant lexical items are given not as second glosses, like here, but as subsequent entries.72 With a large precentage of the glosses Akkadian, and a substantial amount appearing in other lexical sources, we need to ask whether the inclusion of the glosses was an innovation peculiar to Emar, or was the list transmitted already with the second glosses, to which some local terms might have been added? It is difficult to give a clear-cut answer to these questions. On the one hand, because contemporary lexical lists from Mesopotamia or the Western Periphery do not display the phenomenon of second glosses, there is a chance that we are facing a local innovation. On the other hand, on top of the arguments already presented, we can say that the appearance of many of the glosses in duplicate manuscripts (where preserved),73 may serve as an indication, although not obliging, that the lists were transmitted to the city in this form, and then faithfully copied. If it is agreed that at least some of the glosses arrived with the lists, what then is their source? The answer to this question is, of course, tied to the larger issue of the transmission routes of the Mesopotamian scholarly materials to Emar and, in generally, to the Western Periphery. While it is not the intention of this study to solve this problem, it is to be noted that the Emar lexical lists studied here display contemporary Middle Babylonian features, a fact which may allow us to consider them arriving, perhaps not in a direct manner, from Kassite centers in Northern Babylonia.74 A recent study has shown the proximity of some of the Emar lists to Kassite 71

See Lambert 1999:222–223. Of interest is Emar 572, an extract of the izi = išātu list, which gives alternative spellings for salātu ‘to split’: 8. (šu.kàd) min = ša-la-tum; 9. (šu.kàd) min = sàla-tum. Consider also Hh XVII–XVIII, Emar 555 J + H 47′ [buru5-ú.gír (= kiši17)] = u´-´u-ur ki-is-[si]; 48. [buru5-ú.gír] = i´-´u-ur et-te-e-[tu]. 73 E. g., Nos. 19, 26, 27, 30, 31, and 47. 74 This is true at least of the Syro-Hittite scholarly materials, which are more recent than the Syrian texts. See Seminara 1998:225–230 and passim (although his study does not differentiate between both scribal schools in regard to the Mesopotamian scholarly materials) and Cohen 2009. The Syro-Hittite scholarly materials are dated on the base of their colophons to the second half of the 13th century (see Cohen 2004 and Cohen–d’Alfonso 2008). 72

Y. Cohen, The “Second Glosses” in the Lexical Lists from Emar…

837

lexical traditions.75 The activities of a foreign teacher, Kidin-Gula, who probably came from Northern Babylonia or the Land of Su¶u, and his role in the instruction of copying the Hh, lú = ša (most likely), and izi = išātu lexical lists in the Emar scribal school are likewise not to be ignored when assessing the transmission of the Emar scholarly materials.76 We surmise that the mixed lexicographical nature of the Emar lexical lists, as evidenced by the second glosses, was partly due to the city’s linguistic affinity. However, it was also the result of the contemporary Babylonian lexical lists transmitted to Emar. The linguistic milieu where the Babylonian lists were composed was not uniform but consisted of Babylonian and Assyrian dialects, in contact with Hurrian and West Semitic languages spoken across North Syria, the Middle Euphrates region and Northern Babylonia. The reflection of these languages is seen in the entries of the lexical lists transmitted to the Western Periphery, Emar included, at the end of the second millennium. By the first millennium, a host of such foreign words were part and parcel of the Mesopotamian stream of tradition, where they can be quite frequently detected in lexical lists and their commentaries as well as in other learned compositions. References Abraham–Sokoloff forthcoming Arnaud 1985–1987 Beckman 2002 Black–Al-Rawi 1987 Borger 2004 Cavigneaux 1983 Civil 1974–1977 Civil 1984 Civil 1989 Civil 2006

75 76

Peterson 2006. See Cohen 2004.

Abraham, K.; Sokoloff, M. Aramaic Loanwords in Akkadian: A Reassessment of the Proposals (to appear in AfO 52:1–93). Arnaud, D Recherches au pays d’Aštata. Emar VI. Les textes sumériens et accadiens. T. I–IV. Paris. Beckman, G. The Pantheon of Emar. Taracha, P. (ed.). Silva Anatolica: Anatolian Studies Presented to Maciej Popko on the Occasion of his 65th Birthday. Warsaw. Pp. 39–54. Black, J. A.; Al-Rawi, F. N. H. A Contribution to the Study of Akkadian Bird Names. ZA 77:117–126. Borger, R. Mesopotamisches Zeichenlexikon (AOAT 305). Münster. Cavigneaux, A. Lexikalische Listen. RlA 6:609–641. Civil, M. Enlil and Namzitarra. AfO 25:65–71. Civil, M. On Some Terms for “Bat” in Mesopotamia. AuOr 2:5–9. Civil, M. The Texts from Meskéne-Emar. AuOr 7:5–25. Civil, M. be5/pe-en-zé-er = bi´´ūru. Guinan, A. K. et al. (eds.). If a Man Builds a Joyful House: Assyriological Studies

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Cohen 2003 Cohen 2004 Cohen 2009 Cohen–d’Alfonso 2008

Dalley 2000 Durand 1993 Huehnergard 1987 Huehnergard 1989 Huehnergard 2003 Ikeda 2003 Kogan 2001 Kogan 2006 Krebernik 1983 Lambert 1995 Lambert 1999

Pentiuc 1999 Pentiuc 2001 Peterson 2006 Pruzsinsky 2003 Rutz 2006 Seminara 1997 Seminara 1998

Peripheral Akkadian in Honor of Erle Verdun Leichty (CM 31). Leiden–Boston. Pp. 55–61. Cohen, Y. The Term for ‘Lung’ in West-Semitic / Northwestern Peripheral Akkadian. JAOS 122:824–827. Cohen, Y. Kidin-Gula—The Foreign Teacher at the Emar Scribal School. RA 97:81–100. Cohen, Y. The Scribes and Scholars of the City of Emar in the Late Bronze Age (HSS 59). Winona Lake. Cohen, Y.; d’Alfonso, L. The Duration of the Emar Archives and the Relative and Absolute Chronology of the City. d’Alfonso, L.; Cohen, Y.; Sürenhagen, D. (eds.). The City of Emar among the Late Bronze Age Empires. History, Landscape and Society. Proceedings of the Konstanz Emar Conference, 25.–26.4.2006 (AOAT 349). Münster. Pp. 3–25. Dalley, S. Hebrew taµaš, Akkadian du¶šu, Faience and Beadwork. JSS 45:1–19. Durand, J.-M. Le combat entre le Dieu de l’orage et la Mer. MARI 7:41–62. Huehnergard, J. Review of Sivan 1984. JAOS 107:713–725. Huehnergard, J. The Akkadian of Ugarit (HSS 34). Atlanta. Huehnergard, J. Akkadian ¶ and West Semitic *µ. Kogan, L. (ed.). Studia Semitica. Moscow. Pp. 102–119. Ikeda, J. A New Contribution to Northwest Semitic Lexicography (Review of Pentiuc 2001). BiOr 60:264–280. Kogan, L. *ģ in Akkadian. UF 33:263–298. Kogan, L. Animal Names in Biblical Hebrew: An Etymological Overview. B&B 3:257–320. Krebernik, M. Zu Syllabar und Orthographie der lexikalischen Texte aus Ebla. Teil 2 (Glossar). ZA 73:1–47. Lambert, W. G. The Root of išittu ‘storehouse’. NABU 1995/32. Lambert, W. G. Babylonian Linguistics. van Lerberghe, K.; Voet, G. (eds.). Languages and Cultures in Contact: At the Crossroads of Civilizations in the Syro-Mesopotamian Realm (CRRAI 42). Leuven. Pp. 217–231. Pentiuc, E. J. West Semitic Terms in Akkadian Texts from Emar. JNES 58:81–96. Pentiuc, E. J. West Semitic Vocabulary in the Akkadian Texts from Emar (HSS 49). Winona Lake. Peterson, J. Direct Interconnections between the Lexical Traditions of Kassite Babylonia and the Periphery. UF 38:577–592. Pruzsinszky, R. Die Personennamen der Texte aus Emar (SCCNH 13). Bethesda. Rutz, M. T. More Diri from Emar. NABU 2006/85. Seminara, S. Note di lessicografia emarita. RSO 71:15–24. Seminara, S. L’accadico di Emar (MVS 6). Rome.

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Was Akkadian Spoken in Emar? Diglossia in Emar Jun Ikeda University of Tsukuba

Introduction: What is diglossia? Charles A. Ferguson (1959:435) defined diglossia as follows: “DIGLOSSIA is a relatively stable language situation in which, in addition to the primary dialects of the language (which may include a standard or regional standards), there is a very divergent, highly codified (often grammatically more complex) superposed variety, the vehicle of a large and respected body of written literature, either of an earlier period or in another speech community, which is learned largely by formal education and is used for most written and formal spoken purposes but is not used by any section of the community for ordinary conversation.” In other words, diglossia is a bilingual situation in a given speech community in which one of the varieties has high prestige, and another has low prestige. The high variety (H) is usually not only spoken (HS) but also written (HW), whereas the low variety (L) is essentially a spoken language, as shown in Chart 1. High variety (H) Low variety (L)

Written (W) + –

Spoken (S) + +

Chart 1: Diglossia in general

Ferguson’s definition of diglossia especially fits Arabic-speaking communities today, where, in addition to the local colloquial Arabic ("āmmiyya), there is a highly codified literary Arabic (fu´µā), which is learned through formal education and used for most written and formal spoken purposes, but is not used by any section of the community for ordinary conversation. The situation in the Ancient Near East was similar, but somewhat more complicated. In Assyrian cities, for instance, local Assyrian dialects were spoken, among other languages. In addition to them, there was a highly codified Standard Babylonian, which was learned through formal

842

Peripheral Akkadian

education and was used for some written and academic spoken purposes, but not used by any section of the community for ordinary conversation, i. e., the H language in diglossia. It was complicated, however, by the fact that there was also a standard literary Assyrian with some small geographical and idiosyncratic variation (Luukko 2004:7–8). In other words, the L language was not only spoken (LS) but was also written (LW), as shown in Chart 2. Standard Babylonian (H) Assyrian (L)

W + +

S + +

Chart 2: Diglossia in Assyrian Cities

We know that there was still another literary language in Mesopotamia, i. e. Sumerian. It was not a variety of Akkadian, but was learned in Akkadian-speaking communities through formal education and used for some written and academic spoken purposes, but was not used by any section of the community for ordinary conversation either in Babylonia or Assyria. This situation is represented in Chart 3. Sumerian (H) Akkadian (L)

W + +

S + +

Chart 3: Diglossia in Mesopotamia

Such a situation has been called extended diglossia, “where forms of two genetically unrelated (or at least historically distant) languages occupy the H and L niches, such that one of the languages (e. g. Latin in medieval Europe) is used for religion, education, literacy and other such prestigious domains, while another language (in the case of medieval Europe, the vernacular languages of that era) is rarely used for such purposes, being employed only for more informal, primarily spoken domains” (Schiffman 1997:208). Extended diglossia applies perfectly well also to some societies in the Mesopotamian periphery such as Nuzi, where, in addition to the local vernacular, Hurrian, there was a highly codified superposed Akkadian. Akkadian was used for religion, education, literacy and other such prestigious domains, while Hurrian was rarely used for such purposes, being employed for more informal, primarily spoken domains. However, Hurrian technical terms and proper names were sporadically embedded in documents written in Akkadian, and this is indicated in Chart 4 by the “plus” sign in parentheses.

J. Ikeda, Was Akkadian Spoken in Emar? W + (+)

Nuzi Akkadian (H) Hurrian (L)

843 S + +

Chart 4: Extended Diglossia in Nuzi

By looking at Charts 2 to 4, we realize that when we talk of diglossia, there are actually four (rather than two) languages or varieties involved, i. e. HW, HS, LW and LS. Among them, the LS language is a mother tongue. Since an L language is essentially a spoken language, in many cases the LW variety exists only marginally at best. The HW language must be learned more or less systematically. It is usually taught at school. The HS variety in a literate society is often a product of deliberate borrowing of the grammar and lexical items from the HW language and the unconscious transfer of some linguistic elements from the LS language. Theoretically speaking, interlingual borrowing and transfer may occur among the all four languages or varieties involved, as shown by the many arrows in Chart 5.

H borrowing transfer L

W

borrowing transfer

S

+




+



 



(+)




+

Chart 5: Diglossia reformulated

The difference between the spoken language and its written counterpart, if any, is worth noting here. Recent linguistic studies suggest that speech and written texts in general are two substantially different entities. According to Per Linell (2005), speech is “part of an integrated communicative act which comprises talk and a range of other semiotic resources, including prosody … and non-verbal means, such as gaze, facial expressions, pointing and other gestures, etc. as well as aspects of the material surround (p. 20).” On the other hand, “written texts are typically not perceived and interpreted at the same time and space as they are produced (p. 21).” Moreover, written texts consist of discrete and relatively stable units (i. e. graphemes), while “the phonetic processes of speech are essentially coarticulatory; strings of discrete segments (at a ‘mental level’) are coarticulated in such a way that dynamically varying continuum arises (p. 61).” Because of such polarity between the W and the S varieties as well as that between the H and the L languages, their combinations, i. e. HW, HS, LW and LS, turn out to be four quite distinct linguistic systems.

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With all these considerations in mind, let us now turn to Emar Akkadian. In Emar, Akkadian was the H language, whereas the local vernacular Emarite was an L language. We know that Emarite terms and proper names were sporadically written, so the LW cell in Chart 6 is marked with a “plus” sign in parentheses. However, an intriguing question in this regard (as indicated by the question mark in Chart 6) is whether Akkadian was a specifically written language or was also a spoken one. Many of us commonly take it for granted that it was spoken, but how do we know?

Emar Akk. (H) borrowing transfer Emarite (L)

W

borrowing transfer

S

+




?



 



(+)




+

Chart 6: Diglossia in Emar

For one thing, we could say that in the Charts 1 to 5, the HS variety is never missing, so we would expect the same slot be filled in Chart 6 as well. We might also say that it is not so difficult in general to speak the H language when we know to write it, as the HS variety is often a product of deliberate borrowing of the grammar and lexical items from the written language and the unconscious transfer of some linguistic elements from the LS language. But, these reasoning, however sensible, are still circumstantial and leave room for the question, how do we know? If we look at Chart 6 once again, however, we realize that there is a way to know if Emar Akkadian was spoken. If we can establish cases of transfer of some linguistic elements from the HS, spoken Emar Akkadian, to another variety, then we will know for sure that it actually existed. Since the LS language is not recorded in Emar, and the LW variety is recorded only poorly, the key to demonstrating the existence of spoken reality of Emar Akkadian will be identifying transfer from the HS to the HW variety (indicated by the leftward arrow in Chart 6a). W Emar Akk. (H) borrwing transfer Emarite (L)

+

(+)

borrowing transfer ⇐

S ?

+

Chart 6a: Key to the existence of spoken Emar Akkadian

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Transfer from LS to LW Before we get down to the question of transfer from the HS to the HW variety, let us take a brief look at some examples of transfer from the spoken to written Emarite (LS to LW). Although they are not directly related to the transfer from the HS to the HW variety, there is one good reason to look at them: nobody denies the existence of the LS language, so the examples of transfer from the LS to the LW variety will be a solid point of departure for our ultimate question. As we know, spelling is fixed by and large by the graphic convention, but the actual pronunciation varies. When a scribe writes down a word form whose spelling is fixed by scribal tradition, he does not have to bother too much with how the word is actually pronounced. When he tries to write down a word form whose spelling is not fixed by the scribal tradition, however, he has to decide case by case on the best way to represent it graphically. As we have seen above, the phonetic processes of speech are essentially coarticulatory with a dynamically varying continuum, while graphemes are discrete. That is to say, we cannot accurately reproduce all the actual speech sounds using a given set of graphemes. Under such conditions, phonetic variation might be transfered to writing. (1) Spelling variation a ~ u (cf. Pentiuc 2001:234) a. /baqar-/ [bɒqar-] “flock, herd, bovines”: ba-qa-ra (Emar 6, 327:9) ~ bu-qà-ri (Emar 6, 373:39, 43, 67′, 175′, 176′, 185′, 192′; 374:19′, 20′; 378:1, 2). b. /kamar-/ [kɒmar-] “priest”: kà(GA)-ma-ri (Emar 6, 446:38) ~ ka-ma-[ri] (Emar 6, 378:48′) ~ kà-ma-ru (Emar 6, 446:16) ~ ku-ma-ru (Emar 6, 274:17; 373:134; 468:3′). c. /kabur-/ [kɒbur-] “kabur-payment”: ka4(QA)-bu-ra (RE 20:20) ~ ku-bu-ra (RE 94:11) ~ ku-bu-ru (Emar 6, 109:19; 110:25; 111:22; 130:18; AuOr Sup 1, 67:19) ~ ku-bu-rù (ASJ 12, 12:23; RE 33:22) ~ ku13(KUM)-bu-ru (Emar 6, 230:6′). As Eugene Pentiuc has demonstrated, these are not genuine Akkadian words. It follows that their spelling is not fixed by scribal tradition, so the scribe needs to find a way to approximate the dynamically varying speech sounds with a given set of graphemes. In these examples, the a and u vowels alternate when they are between a bilabial consonant and a velar or uvular consonant. Since a labial consonant causes a slight rounding of the neighboring sounds, and a velar or uvular consonant causes a slight retraction, this spelling variation is most probably due to the attempt to

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Peripheral Akkadian

approximate a rounded and retracted [ɒ]. Such rounding and retraction of the vowel would not occur unless the scribe co-articulated the dynamically varying physical sounds. (2) Sandhi spelling (cf. Pruzsinszky 2003:144, 219)1 a. !Ajja-!a¶ī [aj(j)a:xi]2 a-ia-!a-¶i (BLMJ 13, 18:14; Emar 6, 77:22) ~ a-ia-¶i (Emar 6, 132:7; 168:34′; 279:30; 319:15; SMEA 24:2). b. Urri-ili [urri:li]3 ur-ri-RiS-lí (Emar 6, 52:16) ~ ú-ri-li (ASJ 13, 17:17). Another case of transfer from the LS to the LW variety is found in so-called “sandhi spelling.” Sandhi can be defined as the alteration of sounds within words across morpheme boundaries (internal sandhi) or across word boundaries (external sandhi). The examples above show that some personal names consisting of two words can be written either with or without sandhi. Spellings without sandhi are morphologically motivated. With such spellings, the scribe tries to maintain each morphologically discrete unit intact, e. g. /aj(j)a/ and /a:xi/ or /ur(r)i/ and /ili/. On the other hand, spellings with sandhi are an approximation of how the names are actually pronounced, at the expense of morphological discreteness. Thus, spelling with sandhi can be regarded as a phenomenon resulting from the coarticulation of physical sounds dynamically varying across word boundaries. Transfer from HS to HW Now let us look at some Akkadian (HW) examples: (1) Spelling variation tu ~ tù (cf. Ikeda 1995) The spelling of the syllable /tu/ varies between tu and tù. a. In the word-medial position, tù (DU) is preferred: i´-´a-ab-tù-ni “they arrested” (Emar 6, 17:19), LÚ mu-tù-ši “her husband” (RA 77, 2:29), ti-im-tù-ta “(if ) they die” (RA 77, 2:39), ti-im-tù-ut “(if ) she dies” (Emar 6, 185:10′; RA 77, 2:26).

1

I thank Dr. Matahisa Koitabashi for directing my attention to sandhi (oral communication). 2 Pruzsinszky (2003:217) takes it as a West Semitic name !Ajja-!a¶i meaning “Wo ist der Bruder?” 3 Pruzsinszky (2003:107) takes it as an Akkadian name Urri-ili meaning “Der Tag / das Schutzdach des Gottes.”

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b. In the word-initial position, it is mostly written tu: tu-ri-iš “she will inherit” (Emar 6, 185:13′), tu-uš-ša-ab-ma “she may live” (Emar 6, 156:23), tu-še-li “(if) she produces” (Iraq 54, 5:7). c. For some collocations, both spellings are found: lu-ú tu-na-ab-bi “may she invoke” (RA 77, 2:12) ~ lu-ú tù-na-bi “may she invoke” (RA 77, 1:8), lu-ú tù-ur-ša-šu-nu “may they inherit” (RA 77, 2:42), ša tù-la-ad “whom she bears” (RA 77, 2:32). In the a examples the syllable /tu/ is written as tù using the DU sign, whereas the same syllable is rendered by the TU sign in the b examples. If we look at the data more closely, we notice that the consonant t in the a examples is both preceded and followed by a voiced sound. This is a typical environment for voicing assimilation to take place. In contrast, in the b examples the consonant t stands at the beginning of a word. This assimilation was not a phonological rule, however, as the c examples do not conform to this pattern. The c examples indicate that such voicing took place within a dynamically fluent speech in an ad hoc manner and that it was rather a sort of fast-speech phenomenon on the sub-phonological level. We may conclude from these examples that the consonant t in the a examples was probably voiced in fluent speech and such surface pronunciation was unconsciously transferred to writing. (2) Sandhi spelling (cf. Seminara 1998:113–114) /ana ajjimmē/ [ana:mme:] a-na-me-e “to anyone” (AuOr Sup 1, 47:16) ~ a-na-a-me-e (ASJ 16, l. 28).4 As Stefano Seminara (1998) pointed out, the first spelling a-na-me-e (AuOr Sup 1, 47:16) most probably stands for ana ajjimmē “to anyone.” I myself did not think of this possibility when I wrote my dissertation on the Emar texts, but this interpretation makes good sense in the context5 and is reinforced by the second example a-na-a-me-e, which Seminara did not cite. The spellings vary slightly, but ana ajjimmē “to anyone” makes good sense in both cases. As sandhi results from coarticulation of sounds flowing across word boundaries, these two examples can be taken as further evidence that Emar Akkadian had a phonetic reality. 4

Cf. /ana arana/ [ana:rana] a-na-ra-na “to arana” (AuOr Sup 1, 14:25) ~ a-na a-ra-na (ASJ 12, 2:15′; AuOr Sup 1, 15:8′). I excluded these examples from our discussion because arana is not an Akkadian word. 5 The following verb, which Arnaud read lu-ú ta-a´-bu-¢a5 (AuOr Sup 1, 47:17), is probably to be read lu-ú ta-a´-li. Cf. a-na-a-me-e lu-ú ta-a´-li-šu “she may throw it to anyone” (ASJ 16, l. 28).

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Peripheral Akkadian

(3) “Inflected” logogram (Ikeda 1995:45) i-na MU KALALA.GI “in the year of famine” (Emar 6, 139:42). Cf. KALA (Emar 6, 20:14), KALA.GA (Emar 6, 138:11, 24, 41; 158:14), KALA-ti (AuOr Sup 1, 9:21). The word dannatu “famine” was written in several ways in Emar. was by far the most frequent spelling. The logogram KALA was sometimes used without GA, either by itself or with a phonetic complement. The phonetic complement -ti indicates that the logogram in this this context was articulated as dannati in Akkadian. Then what does the spelling KALALA.GI tell us? It tells us, I think, that the scribes in Emar sometimes enounced Sumerian words and phrases in their original pronunciation rather than in their Akkadian rendering. We know that such a practice existed from some of the Sumerian literary texts found in Emar which include phonetic renderings of each line (what Daniel Arnaud called “trilingual literary texts”). We have here interesting example of even adding the Akkadian genetive case ending to the articulated Sumerian word. This might seem unlikely in writing, but is possible in speech. The spelling KALALA.GI is apparently a case of the transfer of such an oral practice into written Akkadian. It tells us one more thing also. If the scribes of Emar were accustomed to verbalizing Sumerian, it seems unreasonable to assume that they did not verbalize Akkadian also.

KALA.GA

(4) Deictic use of annû (cf. Ikeda 1992) a. (31) É-tu4.ÚÁ ša ma-gal-li DUMU ¶i-nu-dda-gan (32) mpíl-sú-dda-gan DUMU dIŠKUR.GAL (33) a-na É.GAL il-qè-šu-nu (34) ù É-tu4.ÚÁ an-na-ti (35) i-na pu-ú-¶i-šu-nu (36) a-na ma-gal-li DUMU ¶i-nu-dda-gan (37) id-di-in-šu-nu (Description of three houses and one KI er´etu) ‘The houses belonged to PN1 son of PN2. Pilsu-Dagan son of dIŠKUR.GAL took them over for the palace. And he gave these houses to PN1 son of PN2 in exchange for them’ (Emar 6, 8:31–37). b. (9) É-t[u4 š]a mRa-¶i-Sdda-gan DUMU ¶i-in-nu-dda-gan (10) mpíl-Rsúd daS-g[an DUMU] RdSIŠKUR-GAL (11) a-na É.GAL il[-qè?-]šu (12) ù É-tu4 an-[nu?-ú?] (13) a-na pu-¶i ša RÉ?-ti?-šu?S (14) a-na ma-¶i-dRda- ganS DUMU ¶i-nu-dda- gan id-dì-in-šu (Description of a house) ‘The hous[e be]longed to PN1 son of PN2. Pilsu-Dag[an son of] dIŠKUR.GAL to[ok ]it over for the palace. And he gave th[is] house to PN1 son of PN2 in exchange for his house’ (Emar 6, 10:9–14).

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Our final example is somewhat more controversial. In his review of Emar VI, Jean-Marie Durand proposed that we should understand an-na-ti in our example a and an-[nu-ú] in our example b as derivative forms of "NĪ “to change” corresponding to enû “to substitute,” rather than as forms of the demonstrative pronoun annû (p. 173). As evident from the translation of these texts, it would be very strange if an-na-ti and an-[nu-ú] were anaphoric pronouns referring to the real estate described at the beginning of each document: the king confiscated real estate property and then granted that very property to the same person from whom he had confiscated it! This is highly unlikely, so when I first read Durand’s article, I was convinced that his proposal was the only reasonable way to make sense of these examples. I even found an additional example of the alleged lexeme back in 1992. However, I take here the liberty of proposing a different solution. We all know that Akkadian annû was fundamentally a deictic pronoun rather than an anaphoric one, and was only secondarily used as an anaphoric pronoun. This original deictic usage of the pronoun may have been what was intended here by the scribe. I suggest that these documents were written inside the royal property which was about to be offered to a person in exchange for his property. While writing up the document, the scribe referred to the royal property as “these” or “this” simply because the property was right in front of him. Such pointing to the surroundings is natural and quite common in speech, but is avoided in writing because, as we have seen above, “written texts are typically not perceived and interpreted at the same time and space as they are produced.” It is possible that in this case the text was dictated and the scribe wrote down the spoken text as is without “translating” it into the written language. Anyhow, this peculiar use of annû was probably due to unconscious transfer of speech pragmatics into written Akkadian. Conclusion Spelling variation, sandhi spelling, an “inflected” logogram as well as the deictic use of annû suggest that Akkadian was not only written but also spoken in Emar. Strangely enough, these examples except for one (sandhi spelling in ASJ 16) are found only in documents referring to the royal family of Emar. This leads us to the conclusion that Akkadian was spoken in Emar at least in the royal scribal circle.

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Peripheral Akkadian

Abbreviations ASJ 12 ASJ 13 ASJ 16

AuOr Sup 1 BLMJ

Emar 6 Iraq 54 RA 77 RE SMEA

Tsukimoto, A. Akkadian Tablets in the Hirayama Collection (I). ASJ 12 (1990):177–259. Tsukimoto, A. Akkadian Tablets in the Hirayama Collection (II). ASJ 13 (1991):275–333. Tsukimoto, A. A Testamentary Document from Emar: Akkadian Tablets in the Hirayama Collection (IV). ASJ 16 (1994):231–238. Arnaud, D. Textes Syriens de l’âge du bronze récent (AuOr Sup 1). Barcelona, 1991. Westenholz, J. G. Cuneiform Inscriptions in the Collection of the Bible Lands Museum Jerusalem: The Emar Tablets. Groningen, 2000. Arnaud, D. Recherches au Pays d’Aštata. Emar VI. Paris, 1985–1987. Dalley, S.; Teissier, B. Tablets from the Vicinity of Emar and Elsewhere. Iraq 54 (1992):83–111 (+ Plates X–XIV). Huehnergard, J. Five Tablets from the Vicinity of Emar. RA 77 (1983):11–43. Beckman, G. Texts from the Vicinity of Emar in the Collection of Jonathan Rosen. Padova, 1996. Arnaud, D. Tablettes de genres divers du moyen-Euphrate. SMEA 30 (1992):195–245.

References Durand 1989 Ferguson 1959 Ikeda 1992 Ikeda 1995

Linell 2005 Luukko 2004 Pentiuc 2001 Pruzsinszky 2003 Seminara 1998 Schiffman 1997

Durand, J.-M. Review of Emar VI/3. RA 83:163–191. Ferguson, C. F. Diglossia. Word 15:325–340. Ikeda, J. More Attestations of "NĪ in Emar and Munbāqa. NABU 1992/110. Ikeda, J. A Linguistic Analysis of the Akkadian Texts from Emar: Administrative Texts. Unpublished PhD. Diss. Tel Aviv University. Linell, P. The Written Language Bias in Linguistics: Its Nature, Origins and Transformations. London. Luukko, M. Grammatical Variation in Neo-Assyrian. Helsinki. Pentiuc, E. J. West Semitic Vocabulary in the Akkadian Texts from Emar. Winona Lake. Pruzsinszky, R. Die Personennamen der Texte aus Emar. Bethesda. Seminara, S. L’accadico di Emar. Rome. Schiffman, H. F. Diglossia as a Sociolinguistic Situation. Coulmas, F. (ed.). The Handbook of Sociolinguistics. London. Pp. 205–216.

The Hybrid Language Written by Canaanite Scribes in the 14th Century BCE Anson F. Rainey Tel Aviv University

At the dawn of Amarna research, scholars were surprised to find certain features that were foreign to the Akkadian that they had known thus far. Among them was the use of a consonantal prefix for verbs in the first person singular. It was denoted by the PI/WA sign which was soon recognized to have the values ya, yi, yu. When sorting out the verb forms (Böhl 1909; Ebeling 1910; Dhorme 1913; 1914) all the deviations from the Akkadian paradigms were thought to be the result of the “Canaanite” (i. e. North Western Semitic) mother tongue of the scribes. That was correct only to a certain degree. There were also variations from the Akkadian conjugation patterns that were the result of their own local modifications of the Old Babylonian language that they chose to write (cf. Rainey 1996 II 47–48). The frequent appearance of forms like yiddin (3 m. s.; EA 248:11) and i´´ur (1 c. s.) were compared to Massoretic Hebrew yišmōr and ’ešmōr; that was contrary to the phonological history of Hebrew. It should also be remarked that, although those same scribes were familiar with the Middle Babylonian employed in the other peripheral areas, they deliberately chose to use Old Babylonian as the foundation of their hybrid language. A few texts in Old Babylonian have been discovered in the land of Canaan (Horowitz–Oshima–Sanders 2006). No one knows when or where the “school” of Canaanite scribes devised the ground rules for the hybrid language. The earliest examples are two letters written in Gaza and discovered at Taanach (Rainey 1977; 1999). The study of Akkadian grammar was also still in its infancy when scholars first addressed the Amarna letters. For example, the existence of the iptaras/uptarris/uštapris conjugation pattern as a tense in the G stem was unknown. Those forms were all reckoned as Gt’s, Dt’s or Št’s in the earliest monographs and in the Glossary to Knudtzon’s edition (Ebeling 1915 passim). The most striking aspect of the Amarna letters written in the Egyptian Province of Canaan is the system of verbal morphology and syntax. It was over half a century before that system was adequately defined (Moran

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Peripheral Akkadian

1950; cf. now Moran 2003:1–130). Further refinements were made in the wake of Moran’s brilliant breakthrough (Rainey 1996 II). There are therefore, three layers in this hybrid language: (1) the basic Old Babylonian; (2) the local modifications (3) and the purely NorthWest Semitic elements. As mentioned above, the early Amarna scholars usually failed to distinguish between (2) and (3). The ensuing examples will serve to illustrate the principle feature of this fascinating linguistic phenomenon. 1. The hybrid language as a dialect The following examples from one Jerusalem letter will illustrate the status of the hybrid language alongside Middle Babylonian and Middle Assyrian. 17) 18) 19) 20) 21)

a-qa-bi a-na LÚ MÁŠKIM LUGAL LENM-ia am-mi-nim-mi ta-ra-ia-m[u] LÚ ¶a-pí-riKI ù LÚ.MEŠ ¶a-z[i-a-nu-ti] L taM-za-ia-ru ù ki-na-an-na ú-ša-à-ru i-na pa-ni LUGAL EN-ia

Hybrid Hybrid Hybrid

‘I will say to the commissioner of the king, my lord, “Why do you love the ‘apîru and hate the city [rulers]? Thus I am maligned in the presence of the king, my lord” ’ (EA 286:17–21). 39) 40) 41) 42) 43) 44) 45) 46) 47) 48)

a-na-ku a-qa-bi e-ru-ub-mi it-ti šàr-ri EN-ia ù 2 IGI.MEŠ LUGAL EN-ia ù nu-kúr-túMEŠ L M KAL.GA a-na mu-¶i-ia ù iš-tu LUGAL EN-ia ù li-it-ru-u´ i-na pa-ni LUGAL [ù] LÚ.MEŠ ma-´ar-ta ù 2 [IGI.MEŠ] ù LUGAL EN-ia \ e-nu-ma LUGAL E[N-ia] [T]I.LA LeM-LnuM-ma it-ta-ṣú-ú LÚ.M[ÁŠKIM.MEŠ]

Middle Babylonian

Middle Babylonian

‘I keep saying “I will go in to the king, my lord, so that I may behold the eyes of the king, my lord.” But the hostility against me is strong and I am unable to go in to the king, my lord. So may it be pleasing in the sight of the king [so that] he may send a garrison troop that I may enter and that I may behold the [eyes] of the king, my lord. As the king, [my] lo[rd], lives, whenever the com[missioners] come forth, …’ (EA 286:39–48).

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The Jerusalem scribe used a mixture of Middle Babylonian and Middle Assyrian verb forms (Moran 1975 = 2003:266–268). In the main body of his texts, he used the suffix verb forms for past tense according to the hybrid system, e.g. ma-an-na ep-ša-ti “What have I done?” (EA 286:5). But he used the prefix forms of Middle Babylonian, mainly the Akkadian present, e. g. i-ka-lu ka-ar-L´iM-ya “They are maligning me” (EA 286:6; ikkalū not MA ekkulū) or of Middle Assyrian, e. g. la ta-ša-mé-ú “they do not listen to me” (EA 286:50, tašamme’ū albeit with hybrid t- for 3 m. pl.). But in direct quotes he employed the verbal forms of the hybrid dialect. He also uses hybrid forms for glosses on particular Babylonian idioms, e. g. the third person plural as indefinite subject, ikkalū “They are eating,” a common means of expressing the passive, is glossed by ú-ša-a-ru “I am being maligned” (EA 286:6), a G passive 1 c. s. of the verb šâru (< ši’āru). It is obvious, therefore, that the Jerusalem scribe recognized three dialects: Middle Babylonian, Middle Assyrian and the hybrid language. The hybrid is a full fledged dialect alongside MB and MA! The next example, from Gezer, illustrates all three of the linguistic strata that comprise the hybrid language. 23) 24) 25) 26) 27) 28)

u a-nu-LmaM LélM-te9-LnéM-LméM a - naM a-LwaM-LteMLMEŠM LLUGALM EN-ia L M u iš-te9-mu [a-na] LaM-wa-LteMLMEŠM LIM Ma-i[a] LMÁŠKIMM LLUGALM EN-ia d[UTU] iš-tu AN ša10-mì DU[MU] LdMUTU(!)

Middle Babylonian

L M L

Hybrid

‘And now I am constantly obeying the words of the king, my lord and I am obeying the words of Maya, the commissioner of the king, my lord, [the sun god] from heaven, the s[on] of the sun god’ (EA 300:23–28). The form iš-te9-mu is taken from Old Babylonian as attested by the combination -št- instead of the usual MB -lt- which is present in the Gtn form in line 23. On the other hand, the first person singular prefix, -Øi- is a departure from the Babylonian paradigm. As mentioned above, third person forms such as yi-iš-me (EA 119:26 et al.) and yi-iš-mu (EA 109:16 et al.) have been augmented by a consonantal prefix, -y-. Forms with -Ø- instead of -y- are then used for first person singular, iš-me (EA 136:15 et al.) and iš-mu (EA 251:15) although the correct forms eš-me (EA 105:40 et al.) and eš-mu (EA 116:16) are also attested. In strong verbs the same practice is common, e. g. yi-ib-lu-u¢ “may he live” (EA 105:83) and ib-lu-L¢áM “(that)

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I may live” (EA 123:26) or LyiM-LnaM-L´íM-ru “(if) he will protect” (EA 112:14) and i-na-´a-ru-na “(from whom) will I guard?” (EA 112:10). The vocalic suffix on iš-te9-mu represents the third language stratum in these texts. It is the West Semitic marker of the imperfect. The form is meant to express the present-future nuance “obeying.” Thus the suffix reflects the system whereby West Semitic tense (and modal) markers are applied to Akkadian verb forms. That is really the essence of the hybrid language. The Gtn Present form in line 23 (I’ve given the scribe the benefit of the doubt about the first vowel) is just to make sure that the hybrid form in line 25 will be properly understood. The following passage, also from Gezer, where the same Middle Babylonian Gtn Present form appears, is equally instructive: 11) 12) 13) 14) 15) 16) 17) 18) Lo. ed. 19) Rev. 20) 21) 22) 23) 24) 25) 26)

a-na-ṣa-ru-mì a-šar LUGAL EN-ia LdM UTU iš-LtuM AN ša10-mì-i L M ša it-ti-LiaM u gáb-bi mì-im-mì ša ša-pár LUGAL EN-ia L M a -na ia-ši gáb-ba L M lu -ú ep-pu-šu-mì [u m]a-an-nu-mì a-LnaM-ku UR.GI7

Hybrid

Hybrid Hybrid

[u ma-]an-nu LÉM-ia [u] [m]a-LanM-nu LURU.KIM-ia [u m]a-an-nu Lgáb-LbiM mi-im-mì ša LiM-LbaM-aš-ši a-na ia-ši u a-wa-teMEŠ LUGAL EN-ia dUTU LišM-tu AN ša10-mì-i ú-LulM L M il -te9-né-em-me

Middle Babylonian

‘Now I am guarding the place of the king, my lord, the sun god from heaven, which is with me, and as for every thing that the king, my lord, has written to me, I am verily doing it all. [And w]hat am I, a dog, [and wh]at is my house, [and w]hat is my city, [and w]hat is everything that belongs to me, that I should not continually heed the words of the king, my lord, the sun god from heaven?’ (EA 378:10–26).

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The two verbs in lines 11 and 17 are hybrid forms. The present-future nuance is not based on their being Akkadian Present, but on the final -u suffix of the West Semitic imperfect. The Middle Babylonian Gtn Present is employed once again by a Gezer scribe in order to leave no doubt as to the sender’s sincerity and steadfast obedience. The use of this Middle Babylonian “gloss,” demonstrates that the body of each text was expected to be read as is, i. e. as hybrid Akkadian. In spite of the deviations from the original Old Babylonian base language, both letters would be comprehensible to anyone trained to read normative Akkadian. The hybrid language was a real dialect alongside Middle Babylonian and Middle Assyrian. 2. The North West Semitic patterns of the prefix conjugation For over twenty years (Rainey 1986), I have been advocating the view that the tenses and modes of the North West Semitic prefix conjugation can be categorized by a sequence of two Moods, Indicative and Injunctive, with three distinct patterns in each. It is possible to say, however, that the third pattern in each Mood has the same special suffix, the Energic, which may be applied to both Moods depending on the contextual circumstances. The table of the six patterns is as follows: Indicative yaqtul, -û Preterite yaqtulu, -ûna Imperfect yaqtulun(n)a Energic

Injunctive Jussive Volitive Energic

yaqtul, -û yaqtula, -û yaqtulan(n)a

The two passages cited above from EA 300 and EA 378 illustrate the present-future function of the yaqtulu imperfect. The following illustrates the contrast between the preterite and the imperfect: iš-te-mé / a-wa-teMEŠ ša iš-pu-ur / LUGAL EN -ia a-na ÌR-šu / ú-´ur-mi MÁŠKIM -ka / ù ú-´ur URU.DIDLI.ÚÁ ša / LUGAL EN-ka a-nu-ma / Li´M´ú-ru ú a-nu-ma / LišM-te-mu UD.KAMV-ma / ù mu-ša a-wa-teMEŠ ša / LUGAL EN-ia ‘I have heeded the words which the king, my lord, sent to his servant, “Guard your commissioner and guard the cities of the king, your lord. Now I am guarding and now I am heeding day and night the words of the king, my lord” ’ (EA 292:17–26). LÚ

The zero form (yaqtul), iš-te-mé, refers to the single event of hearing the message sent by the king (i. e. having the tablet read aloud). The yaqtulu forms, Li´M-´ú-ru and LišM-te-mu, affirm the continuous compliance with

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the king’s instructions, “day and night.” Especially striking here is the contrast between iš-te-mé and LišM-te-mu, 1st c. s. forms of šemû “to hear” (with the preformative vowel of Akkadian 3rd m. s.). It is the suffix -u on the latter that sets it apart as present/future. “Volitive” has been arbitrarily chosen as the title for the yaqtula conjugation pattern to distinguish it from the jussive and the imperative. However, that distinction is one of convenience only since volitive and injunctive would both be valid definitions for all conjugation patterns in this non-indicative mood. Note the expression of a possible result after an imperative: ù yi-iq-bu / a-na ia-ši id-na-LniM / DAM-ka ù / DUMU.MEŠ-ka ù lu-ú / ima-¶a-´a ‘And he is saying to me, “Give me your wife and your children or else I will attack!” ’ (EA 270:17–21).

The injunctive energic in the hybrid texts can be applied to the imperative, e. g. in the following the energic morpheme is attached to a plural imperative: ù / uš-ši-ru-na-ni 50 ta-pal / ANŠE.KUR.RA ù 2 ME ERÍN.MEŠ GÌR.MEŠ / ù i-zi-za i-na URUŠi-ga-ta / i-na pa-ni-šu a-di / a-´í ERÍN.MEŠ pí-¢á-ti ‘So send to me fifty spans of horses and two hundred foot troops so that I may take up a position in Shigata facing him until the coming forth of the army’ (EA 71:22–27).

In one instance injunctive energic is applied to a 3 f. sg. with a collective subject: pal-¶a-ti LÚ.MEŠ ¶u!-LupM[-ši-ia] / ul ti-ma-¶a-´a-na-n[i] ‘I am afraid of [my] tenant [farmers] lest they smite m[e]’ (EA 77: 36–37).

It is a pleasant duty to acknowledge the solution posed by Tropper– Vita (2005) for two passages that had caused me considerable discomfort, viz. the following: qí-bi ù lu-ú / tu-wa-aš-ša-ru-na / ú-nu-tuMEŠ-šu … ù qí-bi ù lu-ú tu-ud-danu-LnaM ‘Command that his personal possessions be sent … So command that they be given’ (KL 72.600:11–13, 19–21).

The -u-na verbal suffixes seemed incompatible to me with the injunctive particle lu-ú. Since both verb forms were passive I suggested that perhaps the indicative was used with the injunctive particle. A similar passage is attested in the Taanach letters:

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ša-ni-tam šum-ma GI.GAG.Ú.TAG.GA URUDU / i-ba-aš-šu ù LluM-ú tu-danu-na ‘Furthermore, if there are bronze arrows, then let them be given’ (Taanach 2:19–20; Horowitz–Oshima–Sanders 2006:133).

However, Tropper and Vita are certainly correct that these three passages have energic suffixes appended to plural forms. Nevertheless, they overlooked two basic facts: (1) the energic is never attached to the yaqtul jussive; (2) the plural of volitive yaqtula is identical with the plural of jussive yaqtul. So all three verbal forms must be reckoned as volitive plurals plus energic suffix. The injunctive particle lu-ú assures that the conjugation pattern is injunctive and the energic proves that it is yaqtula. 3. The suffix conjugation in conditional clauses Two examples in this category will have to suffice. As has been well known for a long time (Moran 2003:25–38; Rainey 1996 II 347–366) the suffix conjugation in the hybrid texts is employed as the stative but also to express transitive nuances. Especially striking is its use of chains of clauses representing various types of consequence or result (Moran 2003:31–33; Rainey 2003). The ensuing examples will illustrate not only the function of the suffix conjugation but also a special type of conditional sentence unique to these texts. Furthermore, it will demonstrate the results of recent collations as reinforced by the photographic methods of the West Semitic Research team and my own use of Photoshop in checking my own collations with photographs. EA 132:23 (BM 29801) At the end of this line. Knudtzon read: la-a ir-¶[a ] but Moran evidently wanted to suggest a verb in the first person plural. His note on the passage (Moran 1992:214, n. 3) is as follows: ‘…Perhaps ni-x-[x] (line 32); the third vertical of ir (Knudtzon, BB) is not clear. “If we do not … Gubla, then …”?’

When we were about to photograph this tablet in the British Museum, I stood in front of a tall window with glorious sunshine coming in and showed it to Bruce Zuckerman (who is not a cuneiformist): “Bruce, how many tiny wedges do you see?” He replied “Three.” So I asked him for a special shot clearly showing the whole sign with its three wedges.

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la - a ir - t[i-¶a-at] Fragment of EA 132:23 The IR sign is perfectly clear. The following wedge is not a vertical as thought by Knudtzon; it is the head of a horizontal followed by the lower trace of a vertical. That sign is TI. This permits the completion of the vocable as a hybrid suffix form from a well known verb, viz. 3 f. s irti¶at applied to the survival of various towns (EA 90:8; 91:21; 124:10; 129:18). The citation of the speech by Aziru (EA 132:19–24) can now be read: 19) ù an-nu-ú i-na-na 20) pu-¶i-ir IA-zi-ru ka-[li] 21) LÚ.MEŠ GAZ.MEŠ ù q[a-bi] 22) a-na ša-šu-nu šum-ma 23) URU Gub-la la-a ir-t[i-¶a-at] 24) [š]u-ut LyuM-L´aM [ - - - - - ] (3 lines missing)

‘And now Aziru has assembled all the ‘apîru men and sa[id] to them, “If the city of Byblos does not rem[ain] [he] will go forth [ - - - - - - - -]” ’

The full import of Aziru’s declaration cannot be completely understood. Perhaps he was saying that if Gubla/Byblos is unable to hold out against his attack, then Rib-Haddi will have to abandon it. Solving the following crux led to the recognition of another class of conditional sentences, noted by Moran (2003:54–56, 70). The passage is: EA 76:19–21 This text, at the bottom of the obverse, is especially broken on the lower left corner. At the edge of the break in line 21 one sees two oblique wedges (see figure on the next page). Knudtzon assumed that those two wedges were the latter half of a BI sign and supplied a first person imperfect form of qabû “to speak.”

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EA 76:19–21 Kn 000Kn 19) 00000020) 00000021) 00000019) 00000020) 00000021)

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ù la-£a!-ma [š]u-tú 2 āla an - ni [t]a ù [a-£]a-[b]i ia - nu a - šar ir - ru - bu ‘. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . und genommen hat [e]r diese 2 Städte, und [ich sp]r[e]che: “Es ist kein Ort, wo hineinkommen kann …” ’

Moran (1992:146) followed suit: “… and [h]e himself has taken these two cities. [I s]aid, ‘There is no place where [me]n can enter …’ ” But their translations did not run smoothly. In seeking an alternative, I noted that the two wedges could easily be the latter part of GA. The signs KAL.GA in line eight would fit exactly in the broken space in line 21. At the edge of the break in line 22, there is the sign tu4 and the signs URU Ir-qa- would just fit the space from the original edge of the tablet (the signs below were copied from the same tablet). These restorations produce a sensible text:

EA 76:19–22 with restorations la - qa - ma 000019) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ù 000020) [š]u - ut 2 URU an - ni - LtaM ù 000021) [KAL . G]A ia - nu a - šar er - ru - bu 000022) [URU Ir-qa-]tu4 a - na ša - a - šu . . . . . . . . . . . ‘If [h]e takes these two towns, then [he will be stro]ng. There is nowhere that I can enter into. [The city of Irqa]tu belongs to him.’

The resulting context begins with a type of conditional sentence unique to the Amarna texts from Canaan. There is no conditional particle; the verb in the protasis is the absolute infinitive with an independent pronoun as subject, while the verb in the apodosis is a stative a form of

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danānu, in this case dān (kalaga). The verb in the next clause, errubu, is obviously 1st person singular and not third plural as thought by Knudtzon and Moran. The reference to ‘Irqatu serves to underline the fact that Rib-Haddi will have no place to which he can flee. For the same construction, cf. the following (EA 362:25–29): 25) 26) 27) 28) 29)

ù ti7-iq-bu-ni ´a-bat-mi ni-nu-u16 URU.MEŠ Gubub-li ù dan-na-nu-u16 a-mur-mi L M ´a -bat-mi šu-nu URU.KI Gub-li ù da-an-nu …

‘They said to me, “If we seize the towns of Byblos, then we will be strong.” Look, they have taken a town of Byblos and they are strong …’

4. Final remarks These few passages demonstrate that the hybrid language devised by the scribes in the Egyptian Province of Canaan was a real dialect. To what degree it was spoken is hard to determine. On the other hand, Moran and others have exaggerated the problem faced by someone not versed it this dialect in understanding the messages. Although modern scholars used to other dialects of Akkadian were often puzzled by some of the phrases employed, they still generally grasped the meaning of any particular letter. The way the three language strands are woven together in this dialect is a fascinating study with many challenges for the scholar. For understanding the diachronic history of Northwest Semitic, this hybrid language, especially its verbal system, is essential. It cannot be ignored. References Böhl 1909

Dhorme 1913 Dhorme 1914 Dhorme 1951 Ebeling 1910 Ebeling 1915

Böhl, F. M. Th. de Liagre. Die Sprache der Amarnabriefe mit besonderer Berücksichtigung der Kanaanismen (LSS 5/2). Leipzig (reprinted 1968). Dhorme, P. [E.]. La langue de Canaan. RB 10:369–393 (reprinted in: Dhorme 1951. Pp. 405–432). Dhorme, P. [E.]. La langue de Canaan (suite). RB 11:37– 59, 344–372 (reprinted in: Dhorme 1951. Pp. 432–487). Dhorme, P. [E.] Recueil Éduard Dhorme. Paris. Ebeling, E. Das Verbum der El-Amarna Briefe. BASS 8: 39–79. Ebeling, E. Glossar. In Knutdzon, J. A. Die El-AmarnaTafeln (VAB 2). Leipzig, 1964. Pp. 1358–1583.

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Moran 1950

Moran 1975

Moran 1987 Moran 1992 Moran 2003 Rainey 1977 Rainey 1996 Rainey 1999 Rainey 2003 Tropper–Vita 2005

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Horowitz, W.; Oshima, T.; Sanders, S. Cuneiform in Canaan. Cuneiform Sources from the Land of Israel in Ancient Times. Jerusalem. Moran, W. L. A Syntactical Study of the Dialect of Byblos as Reflected in the Amarna Tablets. PhD. Diss. Johns Hopkins University. Moran, W. L. The Syrian Scribe of the Jerusalem Amarna Letters. Goedicke, H.; Roberts, J. J. M. (eds.). Unity and Diversity. Baltimore. Pp. 146–166. Moran, W. L. Les lettres d’el Amarna. Correspondance diplomatique du pharaon. Paris. Moran, W. L. The Amarna Letters. Baltimore–London. Moran, W. L. Amarna Studies. Collected Writings. Edited by J. Huehnergard, Sh. Izre‘el. Winona Lake. Rainey, A. F. Verbal Usages in the Taanach Texts. IOS 7:33–64. Rainey, A. F. Canaanite in the Amarna Tablets. Vols. I–IV. Leiden. Rainey, A. F. The Taanach Letters. EI 26:153*–162*. Rainey, A. F. The Suffix Conjugation Pattern in Ancient Hebrew: Tense and Modal Functions. ANES 40:3–42. Tropper, J.; Vita, J.-P. Der Energikus an Jussiven im Kanaano-Akkadischen der Amarna-periode. Or 74:57–64.

Scribes and Dialects in Late Bronze Age Canaan Juan-Pablo Vita CSIC—IEIOP, Zaragoza

1. Language, dialects and scribes in the Syro-Palestinian Amarna letters 1.1. The Syro-Palestinian Amarna letters (= EA) have a multiple linguistic interest.1 The language used in the 14th century B. C. in the letters from the Syro-Palestinian vassals from Egypt, known as “Canaanite” (cf. Rainey 1996; von Dassow 2004) or “Canaano-Akkadian” (cf. Izre’el 2005), seems to be Akkadian based on a old Babylonian dialect (cf. Rainey 1996:17– 32). But they were the work of autochthonous Syro-Palestinian scribes, whose mother tongue was not Akkadian but a northwest Semitic language which frequently seeped into the Akkadian language that they use, regarding morphology, syntax and lexicon.2 It is, therefore, an Akkadian language impregnated by elements from other linguistic systems, the local northwest Semitic languages and dialects, a morphosyntactic phenomenon which seems to go back to the letters from Taanak, in the middle of the 15th century B. C. (Rainey 1996:31–32). The proper character of this phenomenon of linguistic interference, of language mixing (spoken or arti-

1 This article is the result of the Research Projects “Lenguas y dialectos en la Siria-Palestina del Bronce Final. Nuevas bases para el estudio del substrato semítico-noroccidental en la correspondencia de El-Amarna (s. XIV a. C.)” (BFF 2003-03883) and “Bancos de Datos Semíticos Noroccidentales: Desarrollo y aplicación de nuevas tecnologías para el estudio y conservación de da la documentación semítico-noroccidental del II y I milenio a. C.” (HUM 2007-65317), funded by the Spanish Ministerio de Educación y Ciencia within the National Plan for Scientific Research, Development and Technological Innovation (I+D+I) and by the European Union (Feder Funds). This article gives some provisional results of our research on the scribes of the Cananean letters from El Amarna. The full results will be published in an adequately illustrated monograph. I wish to thank Dr. J. Marzahn (Vorderasiatisches Museum) and the Trustees of the British Museum for their kind permission to publish photographs of tablets keept in their museums which are used to illustrate this article. 2 On the codeswitching phenomenon of the Canaanite glosses existing in the letters, see Izre’el 1995; Liverani 1998:24–27.

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ficial language, etc.), is still being debated, as shown, in particular, by the opinions and works of W. L. Moran (1992:xxii),3 A. Gianto (1990:10–11; 2000:131),4 A. F. Rainey (1996:32),5 Sh. Izre’el6 (1987, § 1.5) and E. von Dassow (2004).7 It is an essential aspect of the studies of Amarna which remains open to future investigations. 1.2. Throughout the last four decades there has been increasing evidence that the language used in the Amarna Palestinian letters is not uniform, which has led to focusing on the study of local corpora or subcorpora.8 But considerations such as those made by Sh. Izre’el (1991:9–10) seem to lean towards the need to further refining the criteria of linguistic research: “The diversity of the scholarly traditions attested in the dialectal continuum of the peripheral areas of Mesopotamia seems at times to be 3

To W. L. Moran (1992:xxii), the language of the southern letters would be a pidgin which can only be described “as an entirely new code, only vaguely intelligible (if at all) to the West Semite because of the lexicon, and to the Babylonian because of the grammar.” 4 Gianto suggested that this language be labelled as an “interlanguage”; it could be the development of “a linguistic system in its own right … a form of institutionalized interlanguage functioning as a contact language in a multilingual society” (Gianto 2000:131). 5 Rainey agrees to this language being called an “interlanguage,” but he also believes that it is impossible to define to what extent this language was actually spoken and that the syntax unquestionably reflects the (northwest Semitic) mother tongue of the scribes. Cf. also Rainey–Notley (2006:88): “Was it due to some dominant, creative personality in one of the scribal schools? Did this result in, or was it the result of, a spoken ‘interlanguage’ that developed among the local administrators?” 6 For whom it is a “mixed language” which was actually spoken; cf. for example Izre’el (1987, § 1.5): “the formation of the Amarna jargon cannot be understood unless it were spoken in some way sometimes along its history … a contemporary underlying spoken reality for the language attested in the Amarna letters can also be shown to have existed, even if not as a native tongue or in use in everyday speech.” 7 Von Dassow suggests that the language of the letters is in fact Canaanite written in an Akkadographic form: “the hybrid of Canaanite and Akkadian in which Canaanite scribes wrote was not a language of any kind, but an artifact of these scribes’ use of cuneiform, and furthermore, that the language underlying their communication in cuneiform was not Akkadian but Canaanite” (von Dassow 2004:642); “Akkadographic writing of Canaanite … Canaanite emerges as the spoken and written lingua franca of part of Egypt’s empire in the Levant” (von Dassow 2004:674). 8 See, for example, Smith 1998.

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very wide. Thus, the task of compiling one comprehensive homogeneous grammar of PA seems to be almost an impossible mission. A comprehensive collection of the common linguistic traits of this linguistic continuum has to be made after having described one by one its dialects and subdialects, namely the reduced, and sometimes very small and scanty, corpora of texts belonging essentially to the same or closely related genres, originated from the same area, and written by one or several scribes of a specific family or school within a limited span of time.” On the other hand, the language of the various Canaanite letters is not uniform at all, as clearly explained by the same author: “The CanAkk [= Canaano-Akkadian] texts are characterized by inherent variation. Variation may be geographically dependent. It may depend on the scribal tradition of different cities, but also on imported traditions or variant local ones … Geographic variation is dependent upon scribal traditions and scribal education. By and large, there is correlation between the provenance of a letter and its linguistic structure. The farther south one travels in Canaan the more remote becomes a CanAkk text from Akkadian, and the closer it becomes to the Canaanite vernacular of that region” (Izre’el 2005:3). Along this line of thought and observation, authors such as J. P. van der Westhuizen (1991; cf. § 10) and Sh. Izre’el (2003:72; cf. § 2.1) have highlighted very aptly the leading role that must be given to scribes in any linguistic approach to the Syro-Palestinian Amarna letters. 2. Palaeographic identification of scribes 2.1. In a recent article, Sh. Izre’el (2003:72) expounded a series of relevant observations regarding the need to take into account the “scribe factor” when studying the language of the Canaanite Amarna letters; for example: “the possibility that scribes who had received their education in one place did their service in a different location … Scribes sometimes wrote letters for more than one Canaanite ruler,” reaching the conclusion that “Since the Amarna letters themselves do not include any data on their respective scribes, the only way of revealing such discrepancies is by philological and linguistic analyses.” In our opinion, though, it is also necessary to consider the palaeography of the scribes as an initial step to philological and linguistic analysis of the letters, although the three types of analysis must obviously be used in combination. Indeed, an interesting contribution to research into the different existing dialects in this epistolary corpus could be made by the palaeographic identification of the hands of the scribes and its further philological and historical exploita-

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tion, a methodology that has been successfully developed by disciplines related to Assyriology to a greater or lesser degree, such as Egyptology,9 Mycenology10 and, in a more distant field, studies on Mayan scribes.11 Within the study of late Bronze Syria-Palestine, J. Nougayrol (1955: XXXVI n. 2; 1968:1) announced the development of a similar work focused on the scribes from Ugarit which ultimately was not published12. Nevertheless, in this field, the recent work of W. H. van Soldt (2001b) on the scribe from Ugarit Nahiš-Šalmu can be seen. The identification of scribes of the Emar corpus produced the first conclusions in articles by J. Ikeda (1992; 1999), and the matter has been recently studied in depth by Y. Cohen (2009). 2.2. In the case of the Amarna Canaanite letters, the main criterion traditionally used in order to determine a linguistic corpus as an initial step to its philological and linguistic study has been the sender of the letters. However, in our opinion this criterion is insufficient and ought to be combined with the identification of the hands of the scribes who wrote the texts, as a preliminary basis for further philological and linguistic analysis of a given corpus, following in this sense the pioneering work of W. L. Moran (1975 = Huehnergard–Izre’el 2003:249–274) on the scribe of the letters of Jerusalem. The identification of the hands of the scribes must investigate, mainly, the general shape of signs, the overall ductus, the presence of telling or distinctive signs, the morphology of tablets as well as the distribution of the text on them (use of space, distance between signs, between lines). This line of research requires a combination of palaeographic, linguistic and historical criteria. The task, in this sense, is clearly facilitated by the numerous and precise observations made by J. A. Knudtzon in his edition of the Amarna corpus on the scribes’ writings, as well as on the colour and texture of the clay of the tablets.13 9

More recently Egyptology has started to develop this aspect further, as shown by Janssen (1987; 2000) as well as Donker van Heel and Haring (2003). I am indebted to Juan Carlos Moreno (CNRS-Lille) for these references. 10 With the classic works by Olivier (1967), Palaima (1988), and the more recent work by Driessen (2000). 11 Lacadena García-Gallo 2000. 12 The work of Nougayrol was to be titled: Essai d’identification graphologique des tabellions d’Ugarit. 13 These are observations that Weber (1915) included in the appropriate places in his “Anmerkungen” to Knudtzon’s edition.

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3. Digital photography 3.1. At present, epigraphic, palaeographic and philological work is enormously facilitated by the possibilities raised by digital photography and the Internet.14 As is well known, the Amarna corpus is widely dispersed between several museums around the world (Artzi 1985) and a substantial part of the texts are unpublished from a photographic point of view. On the other hand, the Vorderasiatisches Museum of Berlin letters are, along with the small group from the Louvre Museum, the only letters which have good quality copies, carried out by O. Schroeder (1914) and F. Thureau-Dangin (1922) respectively. Photographing the Amarna tablets has made, therefore, an essential contribution to our research. 3.2. To date, we have been able to photograph the Canaanite letters kept at the Vorderasiastisches Museum (Berlin), the British Museum (London) and the Louvre (Paris). These photographs allow us to observe the actual physical aspect of the texts, to establish palaeographic comparisons between texts kept at different museums, to illustrate publications with group and detailed photographs that allow the reader to have a graphic complement as an independent item to verify our analyses and conclusions, as well as to seek a digital reunification of this artificially dispersed documentary corpus in the future as an initial step to a desirable comprehensive publication on the Internet. To date, in co-operation with Joachim Marzahn (VAM, Berlin), we have been able to publish on the Internet the Canaanite letters kept at the Vorderasiastisches Museum.15 The West Semitic Research Project, and academic project affiliated to the University of Southern California School of Religion and directed by Dr. Bruce Zuckerman, also provides, through the database “InscriptiFact,” high quality photographs corresponding to over one hundred Amarna letters housed at the Vorderasiatisches Museum of Berlin and at the British Museum.16 4. Petrography 4.1. The recent publication of the analysis and results of the petrographic project carried out by Y. Goren, I. Finkelstein and N. Na’aman (2004) on 14

The “Cuneiform Digital Library Initiative,” of the University of California (Los Angeles) and the Max Planck Institut (Germany), is good instance in this sense: http://cdli.ucla.edu. 15 http://amarna.ieiop.csic.es. 16 http://www.inscriptifact.com.

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a substantial part of the Amarna letters has contributed greatly to the Amarna studies.17 It is essential work in order to gain more or less accurate knowledge of the physical origin of the tablets, which also provides new elements for research and reflection on the political relations between the various Canaanite kingdoms amongst themselves, between them and the Egyptian administration, on the training and administrative role of scribes, as well as on the study of the various Canaanite linguistic corpora. 4.2. Palaeographic and philological studies must take into consideration the results of petrographic analysis since, in our opinion, both types of approach to the documents complement each other, and to a greater degree, lead in the same direction. The following example may illustrate this. Through palaeographic, orthographic, grammar and content criteria we suggested the adscription of the unheaded letter EA 308 (it does not include any toponyms or anthroponyms) to the corpus of the town of Ashkelon (Vita 2000a); on the other hand, and separately, Y. Goren, I. Finkelstein and N. Na’aman (2004:311) conclude that this tablet must come from Gaza or Ashkelon. As these authors point out, J. A. Knudtzon had already placed this letter near the letters of Ashkelon. The origin of letter EA 308 may, therefore, be placed with high certainty in this town. 5. Correction factors 5.1. Once the hands of the scribes are identified and the petrographic data is incorporated into the analysis, a series of correcting factors will have to be considered in order to refine, through philological and historical criteria, the resulting data. For example, if a letter was dictated by King A not to his scribe but to the scribe of King B; in that case, the dialect of that letter may reflect that of the town of King A and not, as could be expected, that of King B. Such is, for instance, the case, yet to be investigated in this sense, of letters EA 136–138 of Rib-Adda, King of Byblos, drafted during his exile in Beirut (cf. also Izre’el 2003:72). These three letters are commonly seen as part of the dialect of Byblos (cf. Gianto 1990:5). However, as pointed out by J. A. Knudtzon (1907–1915:1236), the palaeography of these letters does not match that of the scribes of Byblos, but fully that of the scribe of the King of Beirut. In principle, there17

The publication of this work was preceded by a series of articles on this subject; see Goren 2000; Goren–Finkelstein–Na’aman 2002; 2003a; 2003b.

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fore, letters EA 136–138 could also be examples of the language of Beirut. It is also possible, at least in theory, that Rib-Adda dictated the letters and the scribe from Beirut copied the message literally, in which case these letters would be part of the dialect of Byblos. But there is yet a third option: that the scribe blended in the message both his own linguistic elements and those from the King of Byblos, thus producing a mixed dialect. It is a question of trying to resolve philological and linguistic problems that may arise once an initial draft of the dialectal map of SyriaPalestine has been made, and it will be necessary to differentiate for each site between the historical and the linguistic corpus (see also § 10). 6. Epistolar corpus of the Kings of Gezer 6.1. Everything that has been explained so far can be exemplified through the analysis of a given case: the scribes of the Kings of Gezer.18 It consists of resuming our previous work on the subject (Vita 2000b), updating it through the progress made by our own research, incorporating the petrographic results of Y. Goren, I. Finkelstein and N. Na’aman (2004) and illustrating the material and palaeographic observations with a number of digital photographs. It must be noted that J. A. Knudtzon’s comments are always our principal starting point and guide. 6.2. The Amarna archive contains preserved letters from three Kings of Gezer19 who, chronologically, are Milki-Ilu, Ba"lu-šip¢i (dIŠKUR.DI.KUD)20 and Yapa¶u. The first is the sender of five letters (EA 267–271), the second is the sender of three (EA 272, 292–293) and the third sends five letters (EA 297–300, 378). A. F. Rainey (2003:201–202; cf. also Vita 2006: 440–441) could recently pinpoint Ba"lu-šip¢i as the sender also of letter EA 272.21 Before, J. A. Knudtzon had repeatedly pointed out the close material and palaeographic relationship that he had noted between this

18

EA Gazru, OT Gezer; cf. Belmonte 2001:79. On the possibility of a fourth King of Gezer as the author of EA 294, see later sub § 8.7. 20 On the possible interpretation of this name see Hess 1993:53, Liverani 1998:453–454 s. v. “Addu-dani/Ba"lu-shipti” and van Soldt 2001b:587; 2002: 73: Ba"lu/dān(u). 21 According to the collation by Rainey (2003:201–202), the first four lines of the message must be read: 1) [a-]Zna[ ZLUGAL[ [EN-ia DINGIR.MEŠ-ia] 2) Zd[Z UTU[-Zia[ [qí-bí-ma] 3) Zum[-Zma[ IZd[ZIŠKUR[.ZDI[.ZKUD[ [ÌR-ka] 4) [ep]Z [ Z [? Z ri ša GÌR[.ZMEŠ[-[ka]. 19

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letter and the letters of Milki-Ilu.22 The precise identification of the scribe of EA 272 is considered later on in section § 7.2. In total thirteen letters from Gezer kings are preserved. 6.3. This group of texts (obviously without including EA 272) has been the subject of various, important linguistic studies by Sh. Izre’el (1978), J. L. Hayes (1984:55–123) and J. P. van der Westhuizen (1995). From the historical point of view, this corpus is completed by letter 369 (cf. also § 7.4), from the Pharaoh to Milki-Ilu.23 7. Scribes of the correspondence of the Kings of Gezer As we will now try to demonstrate, the thirteen letters of the Kings of Gezer may have been written by a total of only two, perhaps three, scribes. 7.1. Scribes of Milki-Ilu’s letters The five letters from Milki-Ilu (EA 267–271) seem to have been written by the same scribe. The palaeographic unity of these letters has already been highlighted by J. A. Knudtzon when glossing the letters EA 272–280;24 plates 1–2 confirm the accuracy of his observations. The petrographic analysis carried out by Y. Goren, I. Finkelstein and N. Na’aman (2004: 22

“[EA 272] Nach Schrift und Ton den Milkilu-Briefen (267–271) gleich” (Knudtzon 1907–1915:1328, Anm. 1); “Die Absenderin von No. 273 und 274 steht nach dem Inhalt ihrer Briefe … höchstwahrscheinlich in irgendwelcher Verbindung mit Milkilu, wofür auch spricht, daß ihre Briefe nach Schrift und Ton denen Milkilus (267–271) gleich sind. Dies gilt allerdings auch von 272 und 275– 280” (Knudtzon 1907–1915:1328, Anm. 2; our use of italics); “Die Tafeln No. 275– 277 sind nach Schrift und Ton einander und Nr. 267–274 ebenso wie 278–280 gleich” (Knudtzon 1907–1915:1329, Anm. 1). See also Goren–Finkelstein–Na’aman (2004:275): “Our investigation confirms Knudtzon’s hypothesis and indeed suggests that EA 272 was made at Gezer.” 23 Gezer has also provided a fragment of an envelop of a letter from the old Babylonian period, a fragment of letter possibly from the Amarna period (cf. on this subject also Albright 1943:30), two legal documents from the Neo-Assyrian period and a tablet with possible drawings of an astronomical nature (Horowitz– Oshima–Sanders 2002:756; 2006:51–60; Horowitz–Oshima 2004:37). 24 Knudtzon 1907–1915:1328, n. 2: “Die Absenderin von Nr. 273 und 274 steht nach dem Inhalt ihrer Briefe (vgl. bes. 273, 23f.) höchstwahrscheinlich in irgendwelcher Verbindung mit Milkilu, wofür auch spricht, daß ihre Briefe nach Schrift und Ton denen Milkilus (267–271) gleich sind. Dies gilt allerdings auch von 272 und 275–280 (Knudtzon 1907–1915:1328, n. 1: ‘Nach Schrift und Ton den Milkilu-Briefen (267–271) gleich’)” (our use of itallics).

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271–272)25 on this group of tablets demonstrates that Gezer is the most probable place of preparation and dispatch of these letters. 7.2. Scribes of Ba"lu-šip¢i’s letters J. A. Knudtzon pointed out the close palaeographic relationship between letters EA 292 to 294, as well as between these and Milki-Ilu’s letters (§ 7.1). However, he indicates the existence of slight palaeographic variations between both groups, in particular in signs IL5, EN and GÌR.26 Plate 3 shows the palaeographic proximity between letter 271, from Milki-Ilu, 292 and 294, but also some differences in the general ductus.27 As shown by plate 4, the sign GÌR has, indeed, slight variations but there are also significant differences in the writing of MEŠ and AM. These differences, on the one hand, highlight the internal palaeographic unity of 292 and 294 (cf. also sign IL5 on plate 4) and, on the other hand, make them different from Milki-Ilu’s letters. However, as shown also by plate 4, there are not any significant differences in the rest of the signs of both groups of letters, as for example the writing of syntagm LUGAL EN-ia, which include signs LUGAL, EN and IA, which are relevant from a palaeographic point of view. As shown also by plates 3 and 4, letter 272 follows the same line as the rest of Ba"lu-šip¢i’s letters. The petrographic analysis shows that letters 272 and 292 were, very probably, sent from Gezer (cf. Goren–Finkelstein–Na’aman 2004:273 and 275). On the author and origin of EA 294, see below sub § 8.7. 7.3. Scribes of Yapa¶u’s letters A different scribe from the one who wrote Milki-Ilu’s letters must have been the author of four of the letters of Yapa¶u. The palaeographic unity of the three letters EA 298–300 was already noted by J. A. Knudtzon.28 As 25

Except for EA 267, currently in the Cairo Museum. “Die Tafeln 292–294 scheinen ganz dieselbe Schrift zu haben … Die Schrift findet sich auch auf 296 und 297, und ist derjenigen der Milkilu-Tafeln usw. ähnlich, nicht aber in allen Einzelheiten gleich (so wiechen el, en und šêpu etwas ab). Inhaltlich gehören 292 und 294 zusammen” (Knudtzon 1907–1915:1344, n. 2); “Die Tafel [EA 296] stimmt in bezug auf Schrift mit 292–294 und in bezug auf Ton mit 294 überein” (Knudtzon 1907–1915:1346, n. 1); “Nr. 297 … weist dieselbe Schrift auf wie 292–294 und 296” (Knudtzon 1907–1915:1346, n. 2). 27 Letter EA 293 is in Cairo. On the identity of the sender and the palaeography of EA 294 see later on sub § 8.7. 28 Knudtzon 1907–1915:1346, n. 2: “298–300 gleichen einander sowohl in Schrift als in Ton.” 26

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also shown by A. Millard (1965:143), EA 378 could have been the work of the same scribe, by whom four letters would therefore be preserved (cf. also Vita 2000b:76). Plates 5–6 show the palaeographic unity of EA 298– 300 and 378. The petrographic research of Y. Goren, I. Finkelstein and N. Na’aman (2004:273–275), concludes that the four letters were not sent from Gezer but from Gaza. The position of the scribe of letter EA 297 remains to be elucidated. As we have seen (cf. n. 26), J. A. Knudtzon includes this letter, from the palaeographic point of view, amongst the group of letters of Ba"lu-šip¢i (EA 292–294). Like EA 292 and 294 (§ 7.2), plate 4 shows that EA 297 is also different from the letters of Milki-Ilu in signs GÌR, MEŠ and AM, but not in LUGAL EN-ia. Palaeographic data indicate that the scribe of EA 297 is undoubtedly a different scribe from that of letters EA 298–300 and 378; it is in fact the same scribe who wrote EA 292 and 294 (cf. plate 7). The petrographic study establishes that it was sent from Gezer (Goren– Finkelstein–Na’aman 2004:273). 7.4. The scribe of letter EA 369 W. L. Moran (1992:366, n. 1) pointed out a series of items of ductus, grammar and content that could differentiate letter EA 369 from the rest of letters dispatched from the Egyptian chancery. Later, Sh. Izre’el (1995: 109–118) provided elements that were to show that this letter could have been written by a scribe from Gezer; EA 369 could thus be the work of a third scribe from Gezer who, at least in this case, may have written the letter from Egypt. However, as E. von Dassow points out (2004:655, n. 33), the question of whether this scribe had an Egyptian or Canaanite origin may not be considered settled yet. 8. Scribes of Gezer and correspondence of kings from other localities 8.1. As shown here, the scribe who wrote Milki-Ilu’s letters seems to have written also some letters for kings from other places, namely Lapuma, Gath and Gintu-Kirmil, perhaps also Beth-shemesh. It is also possible that he may have been the author of a letter sent from Ashdod or Jaffa. 8.2. As we have seen above (cf. n. 22), J. A. Knudtzon pointed out the palaeographic similarity between letters 273 and 274 and between these and Milki-Ilu’s letters. In his comment he adds: “Die Form der Tafel 273 ist ganz wie die von 271, doch die Grösse etwas verschieden” (Knudtzon 1907–1915:1328, n. 2). Plates 8 and 9 illustrate this fact. The sender of

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both letters is NIN-UR.MAÚ.MEŠ, Queen of Ôapuma.29 At the time of drafting the letters she must have been in exile in Gezer: in EA 274 she informs the pharaoh that her town has been taken by the "apīru (Vita 2000b:72). The petrographic analysis of EA 27330 confirms that the tablet was produced in Gezer (Goren–Finkelstein–Na’aman 2004:276–277). 8.3. The three letters EA 278–280 were sent by Šuwardata, probably the King of Gath (Gimtu; cf. Liverani 1998:80; Goren–Finkelstein–Na’aman 2004:279). J. A. Knudtzon (1907–1915:1329, n. 2) says: “Die Briefe des Šuwardata zerfallen … nach ihrer Schrift in zwei Klassen: a) Nr. 278–280, welche dieselbe Schrift haben wie die Milkilu-Tafeln und andere oben erwähnte, die mit diesen übereinstimmen; b) Nr. 281–284, die einen anderen Schrifttypus aufweisen.” Letters EA 278–280 also seem to have been written by the scribe of Milki-Ilu, as shown by plate 10. The historical reason for this could be the close political relationship existing between Milki-Ilu and Šuwardata: letter EA 278 documents the good relations between both rulers; two other letters, EA 271 (from Milki-Ilu) and 290 (from "Abdi-Úeba of Jerusalem), show that they were both united at some stage. From the petrographic point of view, letter 279 seems to have been sent from Gath (Goren–Finkelstein–Na’aman 2004:280–28131). Regarding EA 278, also linked to the group of letters EA 275–277, see below sub § 8.4. 8.4. Letters EA 275 and 276 are sent by Ya¶zib-Adda, King of an unknown locality; EA 277 lost both the name and locality of the sender.32 This group is rounded off with EA 278 from Šuwardata (cf. § 8.3). All four of them make up a homogeneous group of letters, both regarding their contents and their palaeography: they produce an identical message and, as shown by plate 11, were written by the same scribe who wrote the letters of Milki-Ilu (Vita 2000b: 73). From the petrographic point of view, all four letters seem to have a common origin (Goren–Finkelstein–Na’aman 2004:291). N. Na’aman and Y. Goren (in Goren–Finkelstein–Na’aman 2004:291) suggest that they could have been sent at the same time from the capital of Ya¶zib-Adda, very likely situated near Gath and Gezer, perhaps Beth-shemesh. Should this be the case, 29 Liverani (1998:123), for whom “lo stile sobrio dell’indirizzo e dei saluti non sembrano meridionali,” places letters EA 273 and 274 in the Middle Jordan. See, however, Vita 2005 on the possible placing of Ôapuma near Gezer. 30 Letter EA 274 is in Cairo. 31 EA 280 is in Cairo. 32 Liverani (1998:111) includes EA 277 within this corpus “perché del tutto analoga alle due precedenti.”

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and if the author of these letters is the scribe of Gezer, he must have travelled to this town. As an alternative, they point out the possibility that they were sent from Gezer, but this would mean “that the Gezer scribe chose a specific mixture for these four letters which was not used for the other Gezer tablets” (Goren–Finkelstein–Na’aman 2004:291). 8.5. Tagi is the sender of EA 266. It is highly probable that his capital was Gintu-Kirmil, a locality which could be the modern Jatt (cf. Goren–Finkelstein–Na’aman 2004:257). Three letters from this King are preserved (EA 264, 265 and 266) which, according to the petrographic analysis of the tablets, come from Gintu-Kirmil (Goren–Finkelstein–Na’aman 2004:257). J. A. Knudtzon had already noted that the writing of EA 266 differs from the other two, although without making a link with any other known scribe.33 Actually, it is a letter written by the scribe of Milki-Ilu (cf. Vita 2000b:71–72 and plate 12). Other Amarna letters ratify the close relationship between Milki-Ilu and Tagi: the latter is Milki-Ilu’s father-in-law (EA 249) and they are both political and military allies (EA 289). The other two letters (EA 264 and 265) are the work of another scribe. 8.6. The sender of letter EA 296 is Ya¶tiru, Canaanite in name but brought up in Egypt and still integrated within the Egyptian administrative structure (Liverani 1998:65). In his message, as M. Liverani (1998:65) outlines: “Dichiara di proteggere le porte urbiche di Gaza e Giaffa, città abbastanza distanti tra loro e separate dal regno di Ascalona: dunque aveva a carico il collegamento viario più che le località in questione. È una funzione atipica, che produce una lettera atipica.” J. A. Knudtzon pointed out in various comments the palaeographic relationship between EA 296 and other letters from Gezer, in particular the close palaeographic relationship with EA 292– 294 (§ 7.2) and 297 (§ 7.3).34 According to J. A. Knudtzon, therefore, from the palaeographic point of view, letters EA 292–294 and 296–297 are part of a group; see also below sub § 9. Thus, the letter might have been written in Gezer itself. M. Liverani (1998:65) attributes it to the towns of Úazzātu (capital of the Egyptian province of Canaan; cf. for example Katzenstein 1982) and Jaffa. H. J. Katzenstein (1986) on the contrary, suggested that Ya¶tiru be seen as a ruler of the town of Mu¶¶azu, near Gezer. Based on 33

“… weil die Tafel [EA 266] nicht dieselbe Schrift aufweist wie die zwei vorhergehenden” (Knudtzon 1907–1915:1329, n. 2); “da EA 266 sowohl nach Schrift (vgl. z. B. En) als Ton von den zwei andern abweicht” (Knudtzon 1907–1915:1323, n. 2). 34 Cf. above n. 26 and Vita 2000b:74.

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the petrographic analysis of the tablet, Y. Goren, I. Finkelstein and N. Na’aman (2004:293) suggest that it may have been sent from Ashdod or, as a plausible alternative, from Jaffa. 8.7. W. L. Moran (1992:336) attributes letter EA 294 to Ba"lu-šip¢i (which he reads “Adda-danu”); in the same manner, although with some doubts, M. Liverani (1998:104 and n. 158). The problem lies in the uncertain reading of the anthroponym. Sh. Izre’el (1978:15), after collation of the tablet, suggested the name of the sender be read as ÔI-x-x-NI. Y. Goren, I. Finkelstein and N. Na’aman (2004:293)35 also think that EA 294 could not have Ba"lu-šip¢i as the sender and that the name of line 3 ought to be read ÔI-x-x-NI; they also specify that “the first sign is clearly ´i and the last is ni … Hence, the author of EA 294 is most probably not the author of EA 292” (Goren–Finkelstein–Na’aman 2004:293, n. 3; as already concluded by Izre’el 1978:15, n. 16). Previously, N. Na’aman (1997:615) had suggested the reading ÔI-x-IB?-NI. The line is in a poor state of preservation and would require a new collation. Should the reading of the first and last sign be confirmed, it would indeed be a different sender from Ba"lu-šip¢i. As pointed out by M. Liverani (1998:104, n. 158), proximity in style and content of letter EA 294 and the letters from Gezer may indicate that the sender was a new King of Gezer, or failing that, the King of a neighbouring locality. Available palaeographic data, as seen above sub § 7.2, do not allow us in any case to discount that the scribe of EA 294 may have been the same as the scribe of EA 272 and 292. The petrographic analysis of the tablet indicates that it could have been sent from Ashdod (Goren–Finkelstein–Na’aman 2004:293–294). 9. The Gezer letters: historical corpus, linguistic corpus and scribes’ mobility 9.1. The aforementioned elements sub §§ 7–8 allow us to conclude, provisionally, that the thirteen letters from Kings of Gezer were written by three, perhaps two scribes. Milki-Ilu might have used only one scribe, Ba"lu-šip¢i may have also used only one scribe, perhaps a different one from the scribe who wrote Milki-Ilu’s letters, and Yapa¶u might have used two scribes: EA 297 would be the work of the scribe of Ba"lu-šip¢i, the rest of his letters would have been written by another scribe. Hence, at least Ba"lu-šip¢i and Yapa¶u would have shared a same scribe. The 35

Without mentioning the collation by Izre’el.

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three Kings seem to have sent letters from Gezer, but some of them would have also been sent from outside the capital of the kingdom, from Ashdod (Ba"lu-šip¢i) and Gaza (Yapa¶u). Two of these scribes from Gezer could have also written letters for kings of other places. The scribe of Milki-Ilu would be the author of the two letters of Queen NIN-UR.MAÚ.MEŠ of Ôapuma, of at least two letters of Šuwardata, King of Gath, of two letters of Ya¶zib-Adda (unknown locality) and of one letter of Tagi, King of Gintu-Kirmil. These letters would have been sent from Gezer, Gath and, perhaps, Beth-Shemesh. On the other hand, the scribe of Ba"lu-šip¢i would have written a letter for Ya¶tiru (Gaza, Jaffa?), probably sent from Ashdod or, perhaps, Jaffa. 9.2. The elements described above sub § 7.2 show that the script used by the scribe of Milki-Ilu and the script used by the scribe of Ba"lu-šip¢i are very similar and are, in general, identical, although there are significant variations in the writing of some signs. The petrographic analysis of this group of tablets also shows that the geographic origin of the tablets is different. However, on the basis of considerations of chronology, contents and palaeographic nature, it is questionable whether the scribe of Ba"lušip¢i’s letters, of a letter from Yapa¶u (EA 297) and of the Ya¶tiru letter (EA 296) was not in fact the same scribe who wrote Milki-Ilu’s letters. The chronology of the texts allows us, indeed, to consider the possibility that all the letters were written by the same scribe, who may have been at the service of, at least, three Kings of Gezer (cf. also Vita 2000b:75). The four letters EA 292–294 (Ba"lu-šip¢i) and EA 297 (Yapa¶u), from Kings of Gezer, are chronologically placed in the middle of the reign of Amenophis IV (Campbell 1964:126, 135). EA 296 (Ya¶tiru) may be dated to an earlier period, the final part of the reign of Amenophis III and early Amenophis IV (Campbell 1964:100, 134), like the letters of the scribe of Milki-Ilu EA 266–280 (Campbell 1964:134). From a biological point of view, thus, it is possible that all the letters were written by one scribe. In this case, the script variations which are noticeable between letters written far apart in time could be explained as a personal evolution of the scribe’s writing style. An additional argument in favour of the unity of the hand that wrote this group of texts is offered by letters EA 266 (Tagi), 292 (Ba"lu-šip¢i) and 296 (Ya¶tiru).36 The three letters have a long poetical introduction, almost identical in detail in all three (cf. Katzenstein 1986:7; Moran 36

Cf. van der Toorn 2000:107, n. 99: “EA 266 … 292 … 296 … (all three from Gezer).”

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1992:335; Vita 2000b:74). In our opinion, the best possible explanation for this is that the three of them were written by the same scribe, who may have used the same introduction on three different occasions in his life for letters from three different rulers. 9.3. Taking into account all the above-mentioned considerations sub § 9.2, we suggest the following allocation of documents to the historical and linguistic corpus of Gezer, as well as to the identified scribes. – Historical corpus: EA 267–272, 292–293, 297–300, 369, 378. Total: 14 letters. – Linguistic corpus: EA 266–280, 292–294, 296–300, (369; cf. § 7.4), 378. Total: 24 (25) letters. – Scribes: – Scribe 1. EA 266–280, 292–294, 296, 297. Total: 20 letters. – Scribe 2. EA 298–300, 378. Total: 4 letters. (– Scribe 3. EA 369; cf. § 7.4).

10. Final considerations 10.1. As we already pointed out in previous works (Vita 2000b:76, cf. above § 6.1; 2002:35), the identification of the hands of the scribe results in the re-organization of the linguistic corpora of a significant number of Canaanite localities. These adjustments can be divided into three types: increase in number of texts assignable to the dialect of one locality, decrease in the number of texts assignable to the dialect of another, and the complete disappearance of texts which, in principle, may have attested to the dialect of a particular locality. In the case of Gezer, the number of texts which are available for the linguistic analysis of their dialect varies, with a very high degree of certainty, from 13 to, at least, 24 texts (§ 9.3). Within this group of documents that attest to the dialect of Gezer, there are letters sent by kings from, at least, three other localities (Ôapuma, Gath and Gintu-Kirmil), a figure which might even reach as many as five separate locations (with the possible addition of Beth-shemesh and Ashdod or Jaffa, cf. above § 8). Consequently, the number of texts of some linguistic corpora, such as those from Gath or Gintu-Kirmil, is reduced, and villages such as Ôapuma are left with no text at all to document their dialect. The main palaeographic relationships identified so far between

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the localities could also be the basis for a future dialectal map of the Canaanite dialects of Amarna.37 10.2. The scribe thus becomes a key element for the linguistic study of the Canaanite dialects of the Amarna age. As we have already explained (cf. § 1.2), the importance of scribes in this sense was already pointed out by other authors.38 In this context, as we have tried to show here, we believe that we can accept as a working hypothesis that a scribe reproduced in his writings his own language and grammar first and foremost, even more so than the language of the location where he worked (remember the existence, well proven in Canaan, of foreign scribes). In this sense, we would like to restate our opinion that it is desirable to start from the identification, initially palaeographical, of the scribes who wrote the letters, as the main criterion for a preliminary linguistic demarcation of the Canaanite dialects of Amarna (cf. also § 2.1). The letters from kings of different kingdoms that were written by the same scribe, must, in principle, be considered as a unit from the point of view of the language. 10.3. As previously pointed out, the palaeographic and petrographic results must be subject to a series of correcting factors. To the aforementioned factors (cf. § 5), the variables of chronology and geographic origin of the letters will also have to be considered. Apart from the mention of well identified anthroponyms in the letters, as well as toponyms of well-known locations or identified through historical geography studies, the petrographic analysis of the Amarna tablets (§ 4) has contributed to enriching the range of origins (either certain or likely) of the various letters. As a result, the equation “kings—scribes—places of draft and dispatch of the letters” has become notably more complicated; this issue will have to be looked into specifically in future in order to be understood and resolved. In the case of Gezer, as we have seen (cf. § 8), most of the letters sent by its kings come from Gezer itself but some of King Yapa¶u’s letters were

37 In the process of palaeographic identification of the scribes, the fact that a scribe might have changed his orthography over the years will have to be taken into consideration (as is the case of the scribe of letters EA 221–223, see Vita 2002; cf. also §9.2). 38 Mainly in the works of A. F. Rainey, Sh. Izre’el, J. P. van der Westhuizen, K. van der Toorn and, more recently, E. von Dassow. See, particularly, the consideration of J. P. van der Westhuizen 1991:54–55, 79–80; 2000:447.

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sent from Gaza (§ 7.3),39 where he had used his own scribe to write his letters to the pharaoh.40 In the case of the letters written by the scribe of Gezer for other kings, Y. Goren, I. Finkelstein and N. Na’aman (2004:279) suggest that the scribe of Gezer could have travelled to those allied kingdoms to write the letters. Based on this explanation is the idea that there may have existed the figure of an itinerant scribe (cf. Goren–Finkelstein–Na’aman 2004: 129) and that some kings may have lacked scribes (cf. Goren–Finkelstein– Na’aman 2004:133, 225). However, it seems hard to imagine the possibility of the existence of a kingdom with no scribes (that is, of an administration and a chancery without their own scribes) and, on the other hand, it is also possible that the allied kings of Gezer may have travelled to this locality and used the local scribe to write their correspondence. A clear example in this sense would be the case of the Queen of Ôapuma, since at the time of writing and dispatching the two letters that are preserved from her (EA 273 and 274) she must have been in exile in Gezer (cf. 39

Y. Goren, I. Finkelstein and N. Na’aman (2004:323–324) provide the following possible historical explanation regarding this: “Yapa¶u, the ruler of Gezer, was in deep trouble ever since he ascended the throne. In trying to consolidate his position, he begged repeatedly for Egyptian military aid. Since four of his letters were dispatched from Gaza, he must have travelled there several times, imploring the local authorities for help and writing desperate letters to the Pharaoh.” 40 A similar case is provided by the letters of Zitriyara (EA 211–213), King of an unknown locality, whose writing and content seem to point towards an area in the north of Canaan (Goren–Finkelstein–Na’aman 2004:307). Liverani (1998a: 254) allocates these letters, with reservations, to southern Syria, because they contain also a certain formula which could indicate a southern Palestine origin. However, the petrographic analysis of the tablets could indicate that the three letters may have been sent from Gaza (Goren–Finkelstein–Na’aman 2004:307: “the only possible interpretation of their southern provenance is that he [= Zitriyara] appeared before the Egyptian officials in the administrative centre at Gaza and wrote his letters from there”). In this case, the three letters are clearly the work of three different scribes; some of the three scribes may have been Zitriyara’s own scribe, but perhaps the variety of scribes for such a small corpus may be better explained as being the work of various scribes of the Egyptian administration of Gaza. Y. Goren, I. Finkelstein and N. Na’aman (2004:323) have identified up to 22 letters from eight different kings, whose kingdoms range from Beirut to Lachish, which may have been dispatched from Gaza. As opposed to the case of Yapa¶u of Gezer, the historical circumstances which may account for each particular instance are yet to be discovered (see on this subject the considerations by Goren–Finkelstein–Na’aman 2004:324).

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§ 8.2); the Amarna letters also provide other cases of this kind (cf. Goren– Finkelstein–Na’aman 2004:132). 10.4. To date, our work has dealt with approximately 275 Canaanite letters, from which about 95 scribes have been identified. It is foreseeable that this figure may change towards the end of our research, but probably, not significantly. These scribes (their writing, their language, their education and their possible belonging to a certain school, their indigenous or foreign nature) will have to be studied bearing in mind that the work of some may be very well represented whereas for others we may have only one or two letters.

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Plate 1

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Plate 2

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Plate 3

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Plate 4

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Plate 5

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Plate 6

Plate 7

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Plate 8

Plate 9

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Plate 10

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Plate 11

889

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Plate 12

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References Albright 1943 Artzi 1985

Belmonte 2001 Campbell 1964

Cohen 2009 von Dassow 2004 Donker van Heel– Haring 2003

Driessen 2000

Gianto 1990 Gianto 2000

Goren 2000 Goren–Finkelstein– Na’aman 2002

Goren–Finkelstein– Na’aman 2003a

Goren–Finkelstein– Na’aman 2003b

Albright, W. F. A Tablet of the Amarna Age from Gezer. BASOR 92:28–30. Artzi, P. The Present State of the Amarna Documents. Proceedings of the Ninth World Congress of Jewish Studies. Panel Sessions. Bible Studies and the Ancient Near East. Jerusalem. Pp. 3–16. Belmonte, J. A. Die Orts- und Gewässernamen der Texte aus Syrien im 2. Jt. V. Chr. Wiesbaden. Campbell, E. F., Jr. The Chronology of the Amarna Letters. With Special Reference to the Hypothetical Coregency of Amenophis III and Akhenaten. Baltimore. Cohen, Y. The Scribes and Scholars of the City of Emar in the Late Bronze Age. Winona Lake. von Dassow, E. Canaanite in Cuneiform. JAOS 124:641– 674. Donker van Heel, K.; Haring, B. J. J. Writing in a Worksmen’s Village. Scribal Practice in Ramesside Deir el-Medina. Leiden. Driessen, J. The Scribes of the Room of the Chariot Tablets at Knossos. Interdisciplinary Approach to the Study of a Linear B Deposit. Salamanca. Gianto, A. Word Order Variation in the Akkadian of Byblos. Roma. Gianto, A. Amarna Akkadian as a Contact Language. van Lerberghe, K.; Voet, G. (eds.). Languages and Cultures in Contact. Leuven. Pp. 123–132. Goren, Y. Provenance Study of the Cuneiform Texts from Hazor. IEJ 50:29–42. Goren, Y.; Finkelstein, I.; Na’aman, N. The Seat of Three Disputed Canaanite Rulers according to Petrographic Investigation of the Amarna Tablets. Tel-Aviv 29:221–237. Goren, Y.; Finkelstein, I.; Na’aman, N. The Expansion of the Kingdom of Amurru According to the Petrographic Investigation of the Amarna Tablets. BASOR 329:1–11. Goren, Y.; Finkelstein, I.; Na’aman, N. The Location of Alashiya: New Evidence from Petrographic Investigation of Alashiyan Tablets from El-Amarna and Ugarit. AJA 107:233–255.

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Hayes 1984

Hess 1993 Horowitz–Oshima 2004

Horowitz–Oshima– Sanders 2002

Horowitz–Oshima– Sanders 2006

Huehnergard–Izre’el (eds.). 2003 Ikeda 1992 Ikeda 1999 Izre’el 1978 Izre’el 1987

Izre’el 1991 Izre’el 1995 Izre’el 2003

Izre’el 2005 Janssen 1987 Janssen 2000 Katzenstein 1982

Peripheral Akkadian

Goren, Y.; Finkelstein, I.; Na’aman, N. Inscribed in Clay. Provenance Study of the Amarna Tablets and Other Ancient Near Eastern Texts. Tel Aviv. Hayes, J. L. Dialectal Variation in the Syntax of Coordination and Subordination in Western Akkadian of the el-Amarna Period. PhD. Diss. UCLA. Hess, R. S. Amarna Personal Names. Winona Lake. Horowitz, W.; Oshima, T. Cuneiform Tablets from Canaan in the Istanbul Arkeoloji Müzeleri. Colloquium Anatolicum 3:31–39. Horowitz, W.; Oshima, T.; Sanders, S. A Bibliographical List of Cuneiform Inscriptions from Canaan, Palestine/ Philistia, and the Land of Israel. JAOS 122:753–766. Horowitz, W.; Oshima, T.; Sanders, S. Cuneiform in Canaan. Cuneiform Sources from the Land of Israel in Ancient Times. Jerusalem. Huehnergard, J.; Izre’el, Sh. (eds.). Moran, W. L. Amarna Studies. Collected Writings. Winona Lake. Ikeda, J. Linguistic Identification of an Emar Scribe. Orient 28:37–40. Ikeda, J. Scribes in Emar. Watanabe, K. (ed.). Priests and Officials in the Ancient Near East. Heidelberg. Pp. 163–185. Izre’el, Sh. The Gezer Letters of the El-Amarna Archive. Linguistic Analysis. IOS 8:13–90. Izre’el, Sh. Some Methodological Requisites for the Study of the Amarna Jargon. Notes on the Essence of That Language (http://www.tau.ac.il/humanities/semitic/ eameth.html). Izre’el, Sh. Amurru Akkadian: A Linguistic Study. Atlanta. Izre’el, Sh. The Amarna Glosses: Who Wrote What for Whom? IOS 15:101–122. Izre’el, Sh. Canaanite Varieties in the Second Millennium BC: Can We Dispense with Anachronism? Orient 38:66–104. Izre’el, Sh. Canaano-Akkadian. München. Janssen, J. J. On Style in Egyptian Handwriting. JEA 73:161–167. Janssen, J. J. Idiosyncrasies in Late Ramesside Hieratic Writing. JEA 86:51–56. Katzenstein, H. J. Gaza in the Egyptian Texts of the New Kingdom. JAOS 102:111–113.

J.-P. Vita, Scribes and Dialects in Late Bronze Age Canaan Katzenstein 1986

Knudtzon 1907–1915 Lacadena GarcíaGallo 2000

Liverani 1998 Millard 1965 Moran 1975

Moran 1992 Na’aman 1997 Nougayrol 1955 Nougayrol 1968 Olivier 1967 Palaima 1988 Rainey 1996 Rainey 2003

Rainey–Notley 2006 Schroeder 1914 Smith 1998

Thureau-Dangin 1922 van der Toorn 2000 van der Westhuizen 1991 van der Westhuizen 1995

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Katzenstein, H. J. Some Reflections Concerning ElAmarna 296. Ninth World Congress of Jewish Studies. A. The Period of the Bible. Jerusalem. Knudtzon, J. A. Die El-Amarna-Tafeln. Leipzig. Lacadena García-Gallo, A. Los escribas del Códice de Madrid: Metodología paleográfica. Revista Española de Antropología Americana 30:27–85. Liverani, M. Le lettere di El-Amarna. Vol. 1. Le lettere dei “Piccoli Re”. Brescia. Millard, A. R. A Letter from the Ruler of Gezer. PEQ 97: 140–143. Moran, W. L. The Syrian Scribe of the Jerusalem Amarna Letters. Goedicke, H.; Roberts, J. J. M. (eds.). Unity and Diversity. Essays in the History, Literature, and Religion of the Ancient Near East. Baltimore. Pp. 146–166 (= Huehnergard–Izre’el (eds.) 2003:249–274). Moran, W. L. The Amarna Letters. Baltimore. Na’aman, N. The Network of Canaanite Late Bronze Kingdoms and the City of Ashdod. UF 29:599–626. Nougayrol, J. Le Palais Royal d’Ugarit. III. Paris. Nougayrol, J. Ugaritica. V. Paris. Olivier, J.-P. Les scribes de Cnossos. Essai de classement des archives d’un palais mycénien. Roma. Palaima, Th. G. The Scribes of Pylos. Roma. Rainey, A. F. Canaanite in the Amarna Tablets. 4 vols. Leiden. Rainey, A. F. Some Amarna Collations. Eph"al, I; BenTor, A.; Machinist, P. (eds.). Hayim and Miriam Tadmor Volume. Jerusalem. Pp. 192–202. Rainey, A. F.; Notley, S. R. The Sacred Bridge. Carta’s Atlas of the Biblical World. Jerusalem. Schroeder, O. Die Tontafeln von El-Amarna (VS XI). Leipzig. Smith, P. The Inflectional Morphology of the yvqtvlVerb in the Shuwardata Amarna Letters (EA 278–284, 366). IOS 18:125–170. Thureau-Dangin, F. Nouvelles lettres d’El-Amarna. RA 19:91–108. van der Toorn, K. Cuneiform Documents from Syria-Palestine. Texts, Scribes, and Schools. ZDPV 116:97–113. van der Westhuizen, J. P. Morphology and Morphosyntax of the Verb in the Amqi Amarna Letters. JS 3:54–84. van der Westhuizen, J. P. Word Order Variation of Verbal Sentences in Selected Gezer Amarna Letters. JS 7:1–15.

894 van der Westhuizen 2000

van Soldt 2001a

van Soldt 2001b van Soldt 2002 Vita 2000a Vita 2000b Vita 2002 Vita 2005 Vita 2006

Weber 1915

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van der Westhuizen, J. P. Morphology and Morphosyntax of the Adjective as also Attributive and Predicative Constructions in the Amqi Amarna Letters. Van Lerberghe, K.; Voet, G. (eds.). Languages and Cultures in Contact. Leuven. Pp. 445–459. van Soldt, W. H. Nahish-Shalmu, an Assyrian Scribe Working in the ‘Southern Palace’ at Ugarit. Van Soldt, W. H. et al. (eds.). Veenhof Anniversary Volume. Studies Presented to Klaas R. Veenhof on the Occasion of his SixtyFifth Birthday. Leiden. Pp. 429–444. van Soldt, W. H. Studies on the sākinu-Official (1). UF 33:579–599. van Soldt, W. H. Additions to “Studies on the sākinuOfficial (1). UF 33 (2001)”. NABU 2002/74. Vita, J.-P. La provenance de la lettre d’El-Amarna EA 308. Semitica 50:1–7. Vita, J.-P. Das Gezer-Corpus von El-Amarna: Umfang und Schreiber. ZA 90:70–77. Vita, J.-P. Der Schreiber der Amarnabriefe EA 221–223. SEL 19:33–36. Vita, J.-P. Der biblische Ortsname Zaphon und die Amarnabriefe EA 273–274. UF 37:673–677. Vita, J.-P. Anmerkungen zu einigen Amarnabriefen aus Kanaan. Del Olmo, G.; Feliu, Ll.; Millet, A. (eds.). Šapal tibnim mû illakū. Studies Presented to Joaquín Sanmartín on the Occasion of His 65th Birthday (AuOr Sup 22). Barcelona. Pp. 437–444. Weber, O. Anmerkungen in the 2nd vol. of Knudtzon 1907–1915. Pp. 1009–1357.

Peripheral Akkadian Dialects, or Akkadography of Local Languages? Eva von Dassow University of Minnesota

To my father Bob, who first taught me how language and writing work

A curious case of convergent evolution has occurred in ancient Near Eastern studies during the first few years of the 21st century: several scholars working independently of each other on different text corpora, examining the relation of writing to language and language to text, have theorized that the language of a text may be dissociated from the language employed to write it. That is, writing need not (and often does not) straightforwardly represent the language in which a text is read or understood. Instead, writing may encode language B by means of language A, or language C by means of languages B and A; or else writing may not directly encode a specific target language at all, but instead record linguistically interpretable information, using graphic sequences that may represent elements in one or more languages to compose a text. This idea is not really new. The mechanism whereby one written language is employed to write another was termed alloglottography by Ilya Gershevitch (1979), who coined the word three decades ago in the context of explaining his theory of how Old Persian was written by means of Elamite.1 Working independently on entirely different material at about 1

Skepticism regarding whether the propositions Gershevitch elaborated in this entertaining article were meant altogether seriously has been expressed by Stolper and Tavernier (2007, n. 3), who opine that “much of [Gershevitch’s article] was meant not only as an amusement in its oral form, but actually as a parody of Iranian philology and epigraphy.” Though Gershevitch may in part have been joking, the substance of his extended joke was largely sound. The core concept of alloglottography, whether under that name or another, has significant explanatory power, and has accordingly been developed and applied by many others (as is evident from the references that follow). Rubio emphasizes this point in his remarks on Gershevitch’s theory, its reception (or lack thereof), and the broad ap-

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the same time, Roger Wright (1982) posited that this mechanism (to which he gave no special name) was at work in the writing of vernacular Romance languages by means of Latin, during the early medieval period.2 The same mechanism involving single words, that is, words written in language A but meant to be read in language B, is well known under various designations; to denote such writings, Ignace Gelb chose the term “allogram,” others have used “heterogram,” and Maurice Pope has introduced the term “xenogram.”3 The phenomenon of alloglottography is of course most familiar to cuneiformists in the form of Sumerograms that are to be read as Akkadian words in Akkadian texts, Akkadograms that are to be read as Hittite words in Hittite texts, and so forth. But the principle that sign sequences may be interpreted in a language other than that which the signs’ primary values indicate, or that the linguistic realization of written signs may differ from what the signs ostensibly write, is broadly applicable, especially in two types of contexts: script borrowing across speech communities, and the divergence of language from its written representation. Put simply, writing need not and often does not directly represent the language of texts, much less speech.

plicability of the alloglottographic model (regardless of the details of its articulation for Achaemenid Iran), in his 2007 postscript to his contribution to Margins of Writing (see below, nn. 7–8). 2 Wright’s theory of the Latinography of Romance has achieved some measure of the acceptance denied to Gershevitch’s theory of the Elamography of Old Persian; it has been developed and tested by other scholars in Wright (ed.) 1991; and its validity is affirmed by Tuttle 1996:633. Nevertheless, the idea that medieval written Latin meant anything but Latin can (according to my experience) provoke reflexive rejection by some Latinists. 3 For “allogram,” see Gelb 1963:105; for “heterogram,” in reference to Aramaeograms in writing Middle Persian, see Skjærvø 1996:517, 520. Pope credits “xenogram” to a suggestion from Professor Crossland of the University of Sheffield, in the glossary to his second edition of Story of Decipherment (1999:215– 17); he notes that the term “allogram” has been dropped by reason of being “already in use for other purposes,” and criticizes the substitute “heterogram” as obscure, clumsy, and etymologically inaccurate. Pope’s problem with “allogram” may be exhibited by Gelb’s use of the similar word “allograph,” in his 1970 note on morphographemics, to refer to differing graphic representations of the same element of speech (rather than to mean a grapheme representing an element of one language that is read in another language). Gelb’s admonition in that note to beware “the pitfalls inherent in an easy assumption of identity of written with ‘spoken’ forms,” since “writing can and does at times function separately and in addition to language” (1970:73), is relevant here.

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Accordingly, in an article published in 2006, I have argued that the language of the Canaanite Amarna letters was not a Canaanized form of Akkadian, as is usually assumed, but Canaanite, written in large part Akkadographically (von Dassow 2004 [2006]). In other words, the use of Akkadian to write texts in Late Bronze Age Canaan is an instance of alloglottography, not of Akkadian as a lingua franca or koine, and the apparent hybridization of Canaanite with Akkadian is an artifact of the system of writing, not an instance of a mixed language. Meanwhile, Ignacio Márquez Rowe has examined the use of Akkadian at Ugarit and the use of Peripheral Akkadian more generally, in his book Royal Deeds of Ugarit, also published in 2006. Although he does not propose that the Akkadian-language texts of Ugarit were written alloglottographically, Márquez Rowe does raise many of the same points as I do about the nature of textual records in the Late Bronze Age and the relation of writing to language, and he reaches similar conclusions; in particular, he concludes that Akkadian was not a lingua franca and varieties of Peripheral Akkadian were not spoken, rather, Akkadian was used to represent in writing utterances that were expressed in the local vernacular.4 Carole Roche has independently and simultaneously reached the same conclusion with regard to the Ugaritic use of Akkadian in at least some kinds of texts. In a recent article (Roche 2008), she argues that in texts employing both the Ugaritic alphabet and Mesopotamian cuneiform side by side, the parts that are written using logograms and syllabically-spelt Akkadian words are in fact written in Ugaritic and meant to be read in Ugaritic, along with the alphabetically-written parts of the same texts.5 That is, Ugaritic was (sometimes) written Akkadographically. Roche proposes that her argument regarding the “bi-scriptal” (or digraphic) texts be extended to the entirely logosyllabic texts of Ugarit as well, and tested to determine how broadly it applies.6 4

See Márquez Rowe 2006, Ch. 4 (“Akkadian in Ugarit”); many of the arguments developed there are also presented, more briefly, in Márquez Rowe 2004. 5 Roche 2008; this is the published version of a paper presented at the 51st Rencontre Assyriologique in 2005. In addition, Roche observed instances of the Akkadography of Ugaritic in a paper presented in 2004 (not yet published, to my knowledge), examining the use of Mesopotamian lexical lists to teach writing at Ugarit (“The Diffusion of Mesopotamian Lexical Lists Throughout the Middle East in the Late Bronze Age: The Impact on Neighboring Civilizations,” presented at the 214th meeting of the American Oriental Society, San Diego, California, March 15, 2004). 6 Roche 2008:160; she suggests realizing such a study in a future article. While it may be a valid heuristic device for examining the use of logosyllabic cuneiform

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In the meantime, Gonzalo Rubio has contributed an essay, “Writing in Another Tongue,” to the volume Margins of Writing, Origins of Cultures, also published in 2006, in which he examines instances of the phenomenon of alloglottography across ancient Near Eastern history.7 Taking Gershevitch’s theory of the Elamography of Old Persian as his point of departure, Rubio develops in detail the comparison between early Japanese uses of Chinese writing and early Semitic uses of Sumerian writing that was first articulated by Miguel Civil (1984:75–76). In each case, speakers of one language borrowed a system of writing from speakers of another, and in adapting the script to write their own language, developed methods of using graphic sequences representing elements in the source language to encode elements in their own, while also gradually adapting sets of signs to represent their own language directly. These two cases of alloglottography, the Sinography of Japanese and the Sumerography of Semitic, each of which was accompanied by the development of non-xenographic methods of writing as well, exhibit remarkably close structural similarities.8

in the “bi-scriptal” Ugaritic texts, the classification of usages that Roche employs as a tool of investigation in her 2008 article is not by itself an adequate method to analyze “mono-scriptal” texts. The basis for determining which was the language the texts’ users “meant” does not lie within the classificatory scheme she outlines (see further below, p. 911, with n. 29). 7 This volume (Sanders 2006), the proceedings of a seminar held at the Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago in 2005, sold out and went into a second printing by the end of 2007; the pagination of the second printing differs from the first due to the addition of postscripts by two contributors (Rubio and van den Hout), therefore references here are to the second printing (in which, regrettably, the number of typographic errors has been augmented rather than reduced). 8 Rubio (2007:41–45) provides a series of specific examples to illustrate the array of mechanisms for using the Chinese script to write in Japanese, with references to the pertinent secondary literature, and compares these to the uses of Sumerian to write Semitic-language texts. In his postscript to this article (2007), Rubio emphasizes that the writing of Japanese by means of Chinese in early Japanese texts is an unquestionable instance of alloglottography, which, being well understood and well documented, yields a model that may be applied to cases in the ancient Near East (or elsewhere). (The mechanisms Rubio discusses are covered in the succinct description of Japanese writing contributed to The World’s Writing Systems by Janet S. Smith (1996), which however is essentially a summary of how Japanese is written in the present, with scant reference to its historical origins and development.)

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Besides Rubio’s study, several other contributions to the same volume refer to alloglottography, as if it had just come into vogue.9 Something must have been in the air, since, except for the participants in the seminar that yielded Margins of Writing, none of us had been in touch with each other during the course of our work on this topic. In the present paper I summarize the theory that I proposed to explain how Akkadian was used to write Canaanite in cuneiform, and explore its possible application to other Peripheral Akkadian text corpora; then I inquire what kinds of evidence would (or would not) supply criteria for determining whether my theory applies, or the standard theory with which it competes; lastly I suggest a third way, taking as a point of departure the autonomy of writing in relation to spoken language. According to the standard theory, varieties of Peripheral Akkadian writing actually represent languages of one or another type, with the Canaanite varieties representing a mixed language instantiated in multiple lects. This theory presupposes that the writing of Peripheral Akkadian texts directly represents the language of the texts, whereas my theory dissociates the language of writing from the language of the text. To make my usage clear, the “language of writing” is the primary language that is directly 9 Cooper discusses alloglottography in reflecting on Rubio’s contribution, as a respondent (2007:89). Although Michalowski never uses the term alloglottography, the concept is in play in his essay on the lives of the Sumerian language: after itemizing several possible modes of writing and reading a cuneiform text (ostensibly) written in Sumerian or Akkadian, he enunciates criteria that may enable one to decide among the possibilities (on which see further below, p. 912), then turns to the problematic example of a legal document written using both languages (2007:171–172). Woods, examining the evidence for Sumerian-Akkadian bilingualism, suggests alloglottography as the less likely of two alternative models for interpreting the same document, preferring to take it as an instance of code-switching (2007:102–103). Both concepts, alloglottography and code-switching, are adduced (but apparently confused with each other) by van den Hout (2007:238) in his discussion of KBo 12, 38, which, however, does not appear to instantiate either of the two phenomena if, in accord with his description, it simply contains Hittite drafts for Hieroglyphic Luwian inscriptions (in which case it probably does reflect HittiteLuwian bilingualism, which is what van den Hout intends to show). Despite the utility of the concept so denoted, the term “alloglottography” had not previously attained currency, as witness its absence from the index to Daniels and Bright’s encyclopedic survey The World’s Writing Systems (1996), and the exculpatory comment offered by Langslow (2002:37) upon mentioning the word. The failure of Gershevitch’s coinage to catch on may be due in part to its lexical opacity to any but the increasingly few Anglophone scholars (other than classicists) who have studied Greek.

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represented by the graphic sequences employed to write the text, while the “language of the text” is the language in which what is written is understood and interpreted by the text’s users. In the cases under discussion, the language of writing is some form of Akkadian, more or less deviated from native Mesopotamian forms, this Akkadian being, in its written representation, a composite incorporating a form of Sumerian. According to the standard theory, the language of the Canaanite Amarna letters, as well as contemporaneous cuneiform texts found in Canaan, is an extremely Canaanized form of peripheral Akkadian or, better, a mixed language hybridizing Canaanite with Akkadian.10 This characterization of the language is based on the following features of the texts: Akkadian words are arranged in Canaanite syntactical order, employed according to Canaanite grammatical rules, provided with Canaanite affixes, and glossed with Canaanite translations; sometimes purely Canaanite words are simply dropped in unmarked amid the Akkadian ones; and non-Akkadian forms are even created out of Akkadian parts. 11 According to my theory, these very same features are evidence that the language of the texts is Canaanite, not Akkadian, which is instead employed as the language of writing.12 Learning to write in cuneiform entailed learning to spell words in Akkadian, as well as learning Sumerograms, and these spellings of Akkadian words served the Canaanite

10

This view is prominently represented by the work of Anson Rainey and his students, among whom Shlomo Izre’el has been foremost in giving it theoretical underpinnings. See, in particular, Rainey 1996 (hereafter CAT, with volume number); and Izre’el (forthcoming), with previous literature. This article by Izre’el, available at http://www.tau.ac.il/humanities/semitic/canakk2007.pdf, is cited herein as Izre’el forthcoming, with the paragraph numbers of the current on-line version. 11 For examples of these features, with text citations and secondary literature, see von Dassow 2004:644–647. Composite Canaano-Akkadian verb forms, in which an inflected Akkadian verb form serves as a base to which Canaanite affixes are added (ibid. 644–646), are conventionally taken to be an extreme manifestation of the hybridization of Canaanite with Akkadian (or indeed as proof of it). 12 See von Dassow 2004, esp. pp. 652–658. I reanalyze the hybrid CanaanoAkkadian verb forms as Akkadographic writings of Canaanite verbs, with phonetic complementation to indicate the Canaanite forms, on pp. 659–661. (Rainey actually anticipated this mode of analysis, perhaps unwittingly, in stating that the Akkadian base forms used for the construction of hybrid Canaano-Akkadian verb forms were “really logograms” [CAT II 13]; when asked about this statement at the 53rd Rencontre, he replied, in essence, that he did not really mean the words he had written and published.)

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scribes as Akkadograms with which to write Canaanite. The scribes sometimes provided their Akkadograms with phonetic complements indicating the proper Canaanite reading, or else modified their Akkadographic spelling paradigms to take Canaanite affixes, procedures yielding sign sequences that graphically hybridize Canaanite with Akkadian. They also used signs in their syllabic values to write entire Canaanite words phonetically, and frequently glossed Akkadograms or Sumerograms with syllabically-written Canaanite words, again in order to indicate the proper Canaanite reading. Sometimes only the Canaanite word appears, glossing nothing, though nowhere is an entire sentence written syllabically in Canaanite.13 That the sentences written Akkadographically are to be read in Canaanite is indicated by their Canaanite syntax. It seems practically self-evident that texts written in cuneiform, by Canaanite-speaking scribes, which exhibit Canaanite grammar, phonetic complements, and lexicon, and even include overt clues to their reading in Canaanite in the form of gloss-marked Canaanite words, should be understood as texts written in Canaanite, despite their (rather ragged) Akkadian dress. But instead the consensus has been to treat the system of writing these texts as if it were a language, which would then be a hybrid of Canaanite and Akkadian, and to analyze this hypothetical language using the concept of linguistic interference, the analogy of mixed languages created in language contact situations, or the analogy of an interlanguage generated in the process of second-language learning.14 The application of the interlanguage model has been criticized by Márquez Rowe, who observes that the language in which Peripheral Akkadian texts were writ13

An exception to this statement may be the fragment of a letter found at Ugarit that Arnaud identifies as a letter written in Canaanite, and which he attributes to Tyre (RS 94.2615; Arnaud 2006). Though the surviving text does indeed appear to be Canaanite, regrettably too little is preserved to be certain what any of it says (or even to be wholly confident that it is a letter, much less to reconstruct what the letter was about as Arnaud does (ibid. 13)). 14 Moran (1992:xxi) described the Canaanite form of Akkadian as a pidgin. Gianto (1990:10–11; 1999) has argued for understanding Amarna Akkadian (including Canaano-Akkadian) as an interlanguage. Izre’el, applying the contactlanguage model, identifies Canaano-Akkadian as a mixed language, not a pidgin or creole nor yet an interlanguage (Izre’el forthcoming § 1.5). Rainey indiscriminately uses a variety of terms (pidgin, jargon, interlanguage, code; e. g., CAT II 1, 32, 121, 133, 135), without defining any of them or seeking to establish a theoretical basis for determining which might apply. The concept of interference is broadly employed in discussing Peripheral Akkadian; see, e. g., Wilhelm 1970:13; Huehnergard 1989:21, 272; Izre’el 1991:10, and passim in Ch. 6.

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ten, be it ever so aberrant in relation to Mesopotamian Akkadian, was the normative language that was taught in schools, not a stage in learning (as an interlanguage is) but the product of learning; furthermore, learning Peripheral Akkadian occurred only as a component of learning to write in cuneiform, which is unlike the situation the concept of interlanguage is meant to explain (Márquez Rowe 2006:150–158, 164–165). I have criticized the application of the contact-language model, on the grounds that the sociolinguistic situation of Late Bronze Age Canaan is not analogous to the type of situation in which mixed languages structurally resembling the putative Canaano-Akkadian hybrid are created; moreover, whereas contact languages of all types develop exclusively as spoken languages, Canaano-Akkadian would have been developed exclusively for writing (von Dassow 2004:648–650, with n. 20). I use the word “develop” intentionally, since, having developed, a contact language may be written (as creoles often are), whereas, while Canaano-Akkadian could conceivably have been spoken, it was not developed for the purpose of spoken communication. If Canaano-Akkadian were a contact language, on structural and typological grounds it would be a bilingual mixed language, not a pidgin or creole. 15 However, the sociolinguistic domains occupied by CanaanoAkkadian, on the one hand, and bilingual mixed languages, on the other, are mutually exclusive.16 Bilingual mixed languages are created by speak-

15

For a lucid explanation of the typology of contact languages, see Thomason 2001, Chs. 7 (on pidgins and creoles) and 8 (on bilingual mixed languages). I have shown why Canaano-Akkadian cannot be classified as a pidgin or creole (von Dassow 2004:648–649), and so has Izre’el (forthcoming § 1.5). Briefly, a pidgin is a contact language that is no one’s native language and possesses limited expressive resources, being used in a limited range of situations, while a creole is one that has become the native language of a speech community and has accordingly developed a full range of expressive resources for use in all situations. Canaano-Akkadian fits neither definition, inasmuch as its expressive resources were not (intrinsically) limited, while it was never anyone’s native language. 16 The sociolinguistic situations that may give rise to bilingual mixed languages are described and illustrated by Thomason 2001:203–207. An essential condition is the presence of bilingual speakers in substantial numbers, and a defining characteristic is that the new language serves to mark its speakers as members of a distinct ethnic or cultural group. Neither was true in the case of Canaano-Akkadian. Further, not written but spoken communication provides the context and purpose for creating and using such a mixed language, which again is the antithesis to the attested Canaanite use of Akkadian.

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ers fluent in both source languages who, typically, use their new language in speech to manifest distinct identity as a group (thus excluding nonmembers through their communication with each other). This is certainly not the purpose for which scribes used Canaano-Akkadian, which was instead employed for official communication in writing, a use to which bilingual mixed languages are not put. Moreover, while such a mixed language serves to shut out non-members of its speech community, the putative Canaano-Akkadian language would have served as a lingua franca through which members of different speech communities communicated with each other.17 Most fundamentally, what is required for creating a bilingual mixed language is the existence of bilingual speakers. But there is no evidence that Akkadian was spoken in Canaan, except by occasional Mesopotamian visitors; the only context for speaking the Akkadian language was scribal instruction, as Márquez Rowe has pointed out, and in that context it was already the “peripheral” varieties of Akkadian that were in use (Márquez Rowe 2006:145–149, 154, 158–164). If Akkadian was not spoken by speakers of Canaanite, an essential prerequisite for creating a mixed Canaano-Akkadian language is missing. It must be added that the same prerequisite applies to the model of linguistic interference: in the absence of bilingual individuals who speak both of the languages involved (regardless how poorly or well), linguistic interference does not occur. Notwithstanding these obstacles to its application, the mixed-language model has great appeal because known bilingual mixed languages do exhibit the types of features that characterize Canaano-Akkadian, including the oddest of them, the hybrid verb forms. So, for instance, a HebrewStrangely, these criteria seem to be ignored by Thomason herself in her contribution to Lenguas en contacto: el testimonio escrito (2004), the proceedings of a conference on the topic, in which she treats ancient written texts as if they were equivalent to spoken language, disregarding Márquez Rowe’s emphatic argument in the same volume (esp. pp. 20–23) that there is a categorical distinction between speech, on the one hand, and written evidence of language, on the other (especially ancient written evidence; this point is taken up further below, pp. 916– 918). Thomason (2004:11) misrepresents Márquez Rowe’s view when citing his article for the statement that as a lingua franca, Akkadian was influenced by local spoken language; in fact, he questions whether the term lingua franca is applicable (2004:22). See further Márquez Rowe 2006:139–144; there, he concludes that Peripheral Akkadian was primarily a “contact written language” (ibid. 163), which, on the criteria expounded here, may be an oxymoron (but see below, pp. 920–921). 17 Note Thomason’s statement that “bilingual mixed languages are not lingua francas linking the two speech communities that provided their linguistic material” (2001:197).

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English bilingual child who, when her mother told her to wash her hands, replied “kvar vashti” created a hybrid verb form identical in structure to those attested in the Canaanite Amarna letters.18 Examples of this kind are easily found, and readers of this article can all come up with their own, whether in Engrish or Spanglish or whatever mixed language they like. But examples of graphic hybridization on the model of alloglottography are also easily found. A battle of analogies will not decide the question whether Canaano-Akkadian was a language or a means of writing one; analogy is a means to understanding, not a means of explanation. Instead what is necessary is to identify criteria for determining which analogy, which model, or which theory is valid for the case at hand. As in the example of the child’s utterance, bilingual mixed languages are the creation of bilingual speakers (or learners), and they are created in the context of informal speech; such languages are not used in writing, especially not for writing official communication. These criteria are not met in the case of Canaano-Akkadian, therefore the mixedlanguage model is not a viable theory to explain the language of the Canaanite Amarna letters. Nor does contact language theory in general supply a viable explanation of Canaano-Akkadian; it cannot have been a pidgin, creole, or lingua franca any more than a bilingual mixed language. Contact languages of all types surely existed in the ancient Near East, but, as Piotr Michalowski observes, as contact languages they would never have made it into writing.19 (Parenthetically, inasmuch as linguae francae or mixed languages may nowadays be used in writing e-mail correspondence, this exception proves the rule, since electronic communication is typically conducted according to the rules of colloquial speech.) Yet it does not follow, as if by default, that the model of alloglottography does apply to the Canaanite use of Akkadian. What criteria may be used for determining whether it does, and what alternative theory may be viable? The same questions should be asked regarding “peripheral Akkadian” in general, for most if not all Peripheral Akkadian text cor18

I owe this example (“I already washed”) to Jonathan Paradise. One of many examples of (ostensible) Canaano-Akkadian hybrids constructed essentially the same way as Hebrew-English wash + ti is iz-zi-iz-ti, “I stood” (EA 296:28), composed of the Akkadian base izziz (3ms. preterite) affixed with the Canaanite 1cs. suffix -ti. (Numerous examples of this type are given in Rainey 1996 II, Ch. 12, esp. pp. 284–295.) 19 Michalowski 2007:172; further on, he notes that the archetypal lingua franca “was used almost exclusively in spoken discourse” (p. 176, n. 6).

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pora share some of the salient features of the Canaanite Amarna letters: the construction of Akkadian parts of speech according to the grammar and syntax of a local language, the application of affixes in the local language to Akkadian words, the writing of hybrid words composed of parts derived from both languages, and the use of glosses in the local language. The language of writing in Nuzi, for example, is described as HurroAkkadian on account of the frequent appearance of Hurrian-influenced grammatical constructions and the creation of hybrid words and phrases out of both Hurrian and Akkadian parts, in addition to a substantial amount of Hurrian vocabulary.20 Some texts from Alala¶ IV also feature Hurrian grammatical constructions, hybrid Semito-Hurrian forms, and Hurrian glosses, while the texts recently found at Qatna are reportedly permeated with Hurrian elements.21 And the Akkadian texts of Ugarit share the features observed in the Canaanite Amarna letters, though to a lesser degree, as if the Akkadian language had been inserted mostly whole into a West Semitic template.22 It may be hypothesized, then, that the “Hurro-Akkadian” of Nuzi, Alala¶, and Qatna represents the Akkadography of Hurrian, and the West-Semitized Akkadian of Ugarit may represent the Akkadography of Ugaritic, at least in part. The alternative is to revert to the proposition that the language of writing was truly Akkadian, in some sense, albeit a form of Akkadian that was more or less influenced by local languages. But how would one know? What criteria, or what kind of data, would make it possible to discriminate between 20

On the Hurro-Akkadian of Nuzi, see Wilhelm 1970 (especially Ch. IV, Syntaktische Interferenzphänomene, pp. 61–85); a cursory update, with references to recent literature, is given by Giorgieri (2005:92–97), in the context of his more general remarks on Hurrian-Akkadian language contact in areas subject to the Mittani Empire. 21 Hurrian features in the Akkadian of Alala¶ IV are treated in Márquez Rowe 1998. On the Hurrianization of Alala¶ in general, see von Dassow 2008:71–76, and on the languages used in speech and writing at Alala¶ IV, ibid. 75–76. On Hurrian features in the Qatna texts, see Richter 2005a:113–121 (where he even calculates percentages of Hurrian elements) and 2005b:159–168. 22 Features of “hybridization” between Ugaritic and Akkadian do however occur in the Akkadian texts of Ugarit. These features, which include Akkadianized forms of Ugaritic verbs and vice versa, comparable to the hybrid Canaano-Akkadian verb forms, are discussed by Huehnergard (1987; see especially pp. 5, 7, 15, and 323–325), who treats them as the product of linguistic interference. Márquez Rowe (2006:152–153) likewise employs the concept of interference in discussing the hybrid Ugarito-Akkadian forms, among other “Ugaritisms” in the Akkadian texts of Ugarit.

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graphic phenomena and linguistic ones, when writing provides our only access to language? Is it even logically possible to demonstrate that “peripheral Akkadian” dialects really existed, rather than representing varieties of Akkadographic writing? One can put the question of Peripheral Akkadian versus Akkadography to a practical test. Gershevitch succinctly defined alloglottography as “the use of one writable language for the purpose of writing another” (1979:138); his theory of how this would work has recently been distilled by Langslow into a definition of alloglottography as “the use of one language (call it L1) to represent an utterance in another language (L2) … in such a way that the original utterance in L2 can be accurately and unambiguously recovered from the document in L1.”23 Can one accurately and unambiguously recover an original Canaanite utterance, for example, from its written representation in (Canaano-)Akkadian form? In my article “Canaanite in Cuneiform,” I have demonstrated that the reading in Canaanite can indeed be recovered from the Akkadographic writing of part of a sample letter (EA 254:1–15; von Dassow 2004:665–666)—and this despite our limited knowledge of the Canaanite language(s) in the Late Bronze Age. This test will not work as easily for every case, however. Texts written by different Canaanite scribes do not all exhibit the key features (Canaanite syntax, affixes, glosses, etc.) in equal measure. Among other factors, each scribe’s writing would represent what he was taught; if he had been taught something close to a standard Mesopotamian form of Akkadian writing, that is what he would write, though the language of reading could still be Canaanite. Moreover, as Rubio emphasizes, the mechanism of alloglottography may be implemented so thoroughly as to leave little or no trace in the “writing interface” (2007:67–69). But how can one tell, in that case, what language the scribe thought to be the language of the text? Further issues arise in considering other Peripheral Akkadian corpora. Leaving aside the yet-unpublished Qatna texts—which indeed ap23

Langslow 2002:44–45 (his definition is quoted by van den Hout (2007: 238)); Adams (2003:471) defines alloglottography the same way in his brief discussion of Gershevitch’s theory. Langslow and Adams, however, share a highly restricted idea of the mechanism the term and the theory were meant to describe; they appear to misconstrue Gershevitch’s scenario of dictation in Old Persian being taken down in Elamite, in such a way that it could be read back correctly in Old Persian, as a model of the mechanism through which (elements of) one writable language may be employed to write another, rather than simply as an illustration of how it might have worked in practice.

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pear to represent the (partial) Akkadography of Hurrian, based on the data made available so far24—each of the corpora mentioned above differs from the Canaanite cuneiform texts in some important respect. At Nuzi, there is evidence suggesting both the speaking of Akkadian and Hurrian-Akkadian bilingualism; at Ugarit, the Akkadian of the texts tends to appear too fluent and uncontaminated for the Akkadographic model.25 And at Alala¶, where the writing of Akkadian seldom seems fluent, Hurrian features are accompanied, sometimes within the same text, by West Semitic features;26 so, would the Alala¶ texts represent the Akka24 Note Richter’s observation that in the five Qatna letters, only the opening formulae are entirely in Akkadian, and otherwise practically every sentence contains Hurrian words and Hurrian glosses on Sumerograms or Akkadian words (2005b:160). (The opening formulae of letters are, of course, highly standardized and the language used to write them bears no necessary relation to the language of the letter; the address and salutation of the Mittani Letter EA 24, a wholly Hurrian text, are written using Akkadian.) Richter offers a few examples to illustrate other features of “Hurro-Akkadian” in the Qatna texts, including instances in which (ostensibly) Akkadian words and morphemes are constructed in accord with Hurrian syntax—and as often as not helpfully glossed in Hurrian! (ibid. 163). From Richter’s description, there seems to be so much Hurrian in these texts as to suggest that they may, in part, simply be written in Hurrian with liberal use of Akkadograms, but only publication of the tablets will make it possible to tell. 25 Hurrian-Akkadian bilingualism at Nuzi is inferred from the following circumstantial evidence (Wilhelm 1970:8–11): while Hurrian was the dominant spoken language in the area, most scribes in the earlier generations bore Akkadian names, and are assumed to have descended from families who came from Akkad; some correlation is observable between the linguistic derivation of scribes’ names (Hurrian or Akkadian) and their competence in writing Akkadian; and Hurrian features are introduced into the Akkadian of the texts gradually over the course of scribal generations, indicating progressive linguistic interference in writing correlated with the erosion of bilingualism in speech. The proposition that persons other than scribes also spoke Akkadian is based mainly on the fact that the texts often record quoted speech in Akkadian (ibid. 8), which as discussed further below is not an altogether reliable criterion. But Nuzi was close to Akkad, whence it seems to have received many immigrants, so it is inherently likely that Akkadian was spoken in Nuzi. The same is not true for Ugarit, where immigrants from Mesopotamia were few. Regarding the varying levels of proficiency in writing Akkadian that were achieved by the scribes of Ugarit, see Márquez Rowe 2006:151–154. 26 The vocabulary of the Alala¶ IV corpus contains, besides Hurrian and Northwest Semitic words, Hurro-Semitic composite nouns like ¶ania¶¶e, which may be pluralized either as a Hurrian word (¶ania¶¶ena) or a Semitic one (¶ania¶¶ū), though not both within one text. Glosses, affixes, and syntactic constructions that represent a language other than the language of writing are more likely than nouns to indicate the underlying language of a text. Both Hurrian

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dography of Hurrian, of the local Northwest Semitic dialect, or both at once? In each case, certain features of local-language “interference” in written Akkadian may readily be interpreted as Akkadographic representations of utterances in the local language, but an attempt to carry this interpretation through entire texts or text groups would encounter obstacles.27 The alloglottographic model may explain the use of writing in some part of these text corpora, but it does not tidily account for all the evidence. How then to ascertain whether and in what measure the theory of alloglottography applies? The apparent fluency with which texts are written is no criterion, since facility in the graphic representation of linguistic expression could yield ostensibly the same result as linguistic facility. The amount of “suband West Semitic features in such categories may co-occur in AT 2, the treaty between Alala¶ and Tunip, and AT 15, a royal grant of maryanni-status. In their reedition of AT 2, Dietrich and Loretz identify two West Semitic verb forms, up-súqà, ‘(their hands) are cut off ’ (dual; marked with the Glossenkeil) and yu-dá-šu, ‘he recognized it’ (with an Akkadian, or Akkadographic, suffix), alongside a Hurrian gloss, ¶a-at-¶a-ar-re, ‘from/in the breach’ (Dietrich–Loretz 1997; see their notes on ll. 30, 33, and 50, and for the correct analysis of ¶at¶=ar(=i)=re, see Giorgieri 2005:94, n. 46). AT 15 contains two Hurrianized abstract nouns, SANGA-še and kumur-še, both ‘priesthood’ (l. 11), the one formed from a Sumero-Akkadian loanword and the other from a local West Semitic word. Of more linguistic significance, however, is the sentence a-na ma-ri-ia-an-na wa-ŠAR-šu, ‘he released him to maryanni(-status)’ (AT 15:4), in which the noun maryanna is evidently construed in the Hurrian essive case, while the verb appears to be formed on the pattern of the West Semitic suffix conjugation (but may instead be interpreted as an Akkadian predicative used in accord with Hurrian grammar, according to Márquez Rowe 1998:76; see my edition of AT 15, von Dassow 2008:273–274). 27 One of the most distinctive features of the Hurro-Akkadian of Nuzi, for example, is the construction combining a Hurrian infinitive with a form of Akkadian epēšu, ‘to do,’ which could be understood as a quasi-logographic mechanism for indicating what to read in Hurrian, rather than as an artifact of Hurrian interference or of insufficient competence in Akkadian (cf. Wilhelm 1970:8 and now Giorgieri 2005:97). Other features of the Nuzi “dialect” that lend themselves to an Akkadographic interpretation include Hurrian nouns “conjugated” as Akkadian predicative forms, e. g., šellindann(i)+āku, ‘I am a šellindanni’ (Wilhelm 1970:71), readable as Hurrian šellindanni=tta; and singular verb forms to which the plural determinative MEŠ is affixed, e. g., SUMna MEŠ, where MEŠ would represent the Hurrian 3rd person plural morpheme -lla (ibid. 63) while the verb form written would serve as a Sumero-/Akkadogram representing the corresponding Hurrian verb, thus SUMna MEŠ could stand for Hurrian *ar=a=lla. But it remains to be seen how thoroughly this mode of reading could be applied to the Nuzi corpus, or to logically defined segments thereof.

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strate” vocabulary that appears in the texts is no criterion, either, given that words move easily from language to language. Nor is the use of glosses decisive, since glosses may indicate the target language or may have a different function, depending on the text’s context and purpose. The application of morphemes derived from a local spoken language (B) to words in the language of writing (A) could, in principle, represent either linguistic interference (language B interfering with A) or phonetic complementation (graphs indicating the reading in language B, rather than A), so even this kind of evidence cannot alone constitute a criterion for determining that the language of writing (A) differs from the language of the text (B). The like applies to other ostensibly hybrid forms. In general, non-standard orthographies, forms, and usages may arise from linguistic interference or inadequate linguistic or graphic competence, as well as resulting from a disjunction between the language of writing and the language of the text. Even syntax—typically the trickiest aspect of language to mediate from one language to another, and the least susceptible to equivocal graphic representation—cannot furnish an unambiguous criterion for ascertaining what is the language of a text, at least not when dealing with short passages. Consider the syntactic permutations a Hittite scribe had to perform to render, say, a simple sign sequence such as I-NA É LUGAL into Hittite ¶aššuwaš parni, ‘into the king’s house.’ All the grammatical elements indicated in writing change places, the Akkadographically-written preposition vanishes into a dative case ending (parni), and a case ending represented by no grapheme must be realized (¶aššuwaš). Evidently this was unproblematic for the scribe writing and reading Hittite by means of Sumero-Akkadian sign strings (alongside syllabic Hittite spellings), some of which were much more complicated than the example given; and no one would suggest that such syntactically non-Hittite sign sequences, which form a significant proportion of the graphemes used to write a Hittite text like the Ten-Year Annals of Mursili II, were to be read in any language but Hittite. Albeit none of these half-dozen features can, by itself, serve to determine whether a text is written alloglottographically, in combination they would indicate with high probability whether or not one language is being used to write another. Omitting apparent fluency or the lack thereof—qualities intrinsically problematic and impossible to formulate objectively—a set of criteria for determining that the model of alloglottography applies to a given case may be abstracted from the features listed above (substrate vocabulary, glosses, linguistically incommensurate mor-

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phology, hybrid forms, non-standard forms, linguistically incommensurate syntax), as follows: a. elements of language A are constructed according to the syntax, grammar, and morphology of language B; b. composite writings occur that combine elements of both languages A and B; c. affixes in language B are applied to words written in language A; d. words in language A are provided with translations in language B;

and e. words in language B also appear independently.

Together these five indicia can serve as criteria of alloglottography, the writing of one language by means of another. The regularity of such features would furnish a superordinate criterion; that is, if in a given text or text corpus, f. features of types a–e occur regularly or systematically,

this regularity would reinforce the determination based on individual specific indicia. Thus, if features of types a–e are present, and (f ) are regular characteristics of the writing of a text, they determine that language A, the language of writing, encodes utterances in language B, the language of the text. In general, the Canaanite Amarna letters test positive on the entire set of six criteria, yielding the conclusion that the language of these texts is indeed Canaanite, written alloglottographically by means of Akkadian; their apparent mixed Canaano-Akkadian language is an artifact of the Akkadography of Canaanite. The absence of indicia a–e would accordingly suggest the contrary, that the language of writing and the language of the text are identical. Their absence would not however absolutely determine that the model of alloglottography was inapplicable, since the nature of this mechanism is such that it may not be overtly reflected in the writing of a text; some positive criterion is needed as well. In the case of texts written in Mesopotamian cuneiform, or in any writing system that similarly employs characters to signify both units of sound and units of meaning, one such positive contraindication of alloglottography could be found in: g. thoroughly phonetic writing, with only sparing use of logograms and few or no morphographemic spellings.

Cuneiform corpora having these characteristics include the Old Assyrian archives, the Mari letters, and the Hurrian columns of the HurrianHittite bilinguals, as well as the Mittani Letter (EA 24); in each of these cases, which test positive for indicium g as well as testing negative for in-

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dicia a–e, it is essentially beyond doubt that the writing directly encodes the language of the text.28 Most cases, of course, are more ambiguous. The five indicia a–e may not all be present, or they may appear only sporadically, or they may be applied only with difficulty. No Peripheral Akkadian text corpus is characterized by thoroughgoing phonetic writing (g), but neither are many cuneiform text corpora generally, in whatever language. Other means of assessment would be useful, but they are hardly forthcoming in the literature, since the issue has seldom been considered heretofore. With regard to the Akkadographic sign sequences in the digraphic texts from Ugarit, Roche proposes the criteria of proportion and function, but these criteria do not actually form the basis for her determination that the sign sequences in question were read in Ugaritic, and it is hard to see how they could.29 Michalowski, considering the problem of determining whether 3rd-millennium cuneiform texts were written in Sumerian or a Semitic language, observes that “the difficulties in identify-

28

This statement remains valid even if, as must have been true for much of the Mari correspondence, letters had to be translated on the spot from and to the language(s) of the correspondents; the need for such translation is reflected in a letter in which the writer recommends a man based on his plurilingual competence (see Charpin 2004:43, with n. 68). There is a contrast that is of interest here between the Hurrian and Hittite columns of the bilinguals (edition: Neu 1996; see also Wilhelm 2001, with references). The Hittite columns are just as surely written in Hittite as the Hurrian columns are in Hurrian, but the mode of writing differs significantly: whereas in the Hittite columns, logographic writings are employed in normal proportions, in the Hurrian columns they are rare to nonexistent; in the tablets of parables, even the divine determinative is not used. This difference between the writing of the Hurrian original and the Hittite translation manifests the intent to represent the Hurrian language of the text accurately, something that the scribe(s) did not need to do for the language of the Hittite translation (so much the worse for us non-Hittite speakers). 29 The criteria “proportion” and “function” are presented at the outset (Roche 2008:156), but in what follows, proportions are not given, nor any characterization of which functions Akkadographic writings can or cannot serve. Instead, what decides Roche in favor of interpreting the sign sequences in Mesopotamian cuneiform as Akkadograms is the (un)likelihood that, having expressed (that is, having written or read) one part of an utterance, encoded in Ugaritic alphabetic script, in Ugaritic, a scribe would then express another part of it, encoded in Mesopotamian cuneiform, in Akkadian (the improbability of such a procedure can be sensed more sharply if one imagines the reverse, that is, reading the parts written in Ugaritic script in Akkadian). This reflects a different type of criterion, one that is limited to instances in which two scripts as well as two languages are in play.

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ing the linguistic identity of a text … are inherent in the system of writing that was used in early Mesopotamia” (2007:171); one need hardly add that such difficulties continued to inhere in the cuneiform writing system as it was transmitted beyond Mesopotamia. He then enunciates criteria for determining the probable language of a cuneiform text, which may be paraphrased as follows: 1) geographic (or cultural) origin of the text; 2) syllabic sign sequences readable with good sense in only one of the possible languages; and 3) logograms or syllabic signs used for contextually required values in only one of the possible languages. These three criteria are valid not only for 3rd-millennium Mesopotamia but for the use of cuneiform in general; with some modification (e. g., revising “syllabic” to “phonetic”) they could be extended to encompass the use of writing in general. Their application would, of course, indicate that probably the Canaanite Amarna letters were written in Canaanite, many of the Nuzi texts were written in Hurrian, at least some of the “Akkadian” texts written at Ugarit were written Akkadographically in Ugaritic, and so forth. But the modifier “probably” is repeated on purpose, as these criteria are not meant to yield an absolute determination. Michalowski presents them in the context of an essay exploring the question whether the Sumerian we know from texts, at any point in its history, represents a living, spoken form of Sumerian, and more generally exploring the relationship of textualized language to spoken language. The problem of determining whether a given language was the language of the text or a means of writing the text is similar, though not identical, to the problem of determining whether a language used in writing was living or extinct in speech. Therefore the types of evidence brought to bear on the latter question are also relevant to the former, and are valid means to address whether Peripheral Akkadian dialects possessed real existence as languages. Two of the principal types of indicia that are utilized to argue that a language of writing was spoken are the following: – the use of the language to represent direct speech, or quotations;

and – novel orthographies, or unconventional spellings, that appear to reflect linguistic developments within the language of writing, or to indicate morphophonological phenomena in speech.

What might these types of evidence indicate regarding the linguistic status of Peripheral Akkadian, particularly its Canaanite varieties? With regard to quotations, it is normally assumed that the language of quoted speech more closely approximates spoken language than the lan-

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guage of the prefabricated formulae employed to write letters and documents, and this assumption is probably valid in a general way. However, it is still the scribe who renders the supposed quotation into written form, and he necessarily does so using the same system of writing and spelling conventions that he uses to write the text as a whole. Thus, if his system of writing employs alloglottography, then so will his written representation of quoted speech. Moreover, the proposition that quoted speech reflects spoken language entails the assumption that quotations really are quotations, rather than paraphrases, summaries, or embellishments of what the person quoted said. Yet seldom is there reason to imagine that what the scribe writes is what was actually said, be it rendered in translation or in the speaker’s language. Jack Sasson (2002) has illustrated how far quotation may diverge from the message putatively quoted, using examples drawn from the Mari letters; and at Mari the gap between the languages of writing and speech was nowhere near so large as it was in the communities where writing was done using Peripheral Akkadian. There is, then, good reason to assume that what is presented as quoted speech does not replicate the actual words spoken, in the language in which they were spoken. If one were to insist that it does, one would be compelled to conclude that Pharaoh spoke Canaanite as well as CanaanoAkkadian, for he is quoted in both idioms.30 30

Abi-milki of Tyre quotes Pharaoh saying kûnā, ‘be ready,’ in Canaanite (EA 147:36), and quotes him using the Canaanite jussive yakun in his order that ‘my force be ready for me,’ ia-ku e-mu-qí UG[U-¶]i-ia (EA 154:7–8; for partial clarification of this passage see Na’aman 1997; for an improved translation, Liverani 1998, no. 121). Rīb-Hadda of Byblos quotes Pharaoh’s order ‘Guard! May you guard!’ in Canaano-Akkadian, as ú-´ur-mi lu-ú na-´ir-ta (constructing a Canaanite suffix-conjugation form of na´āru, EA 112:9); elsewhere Pharaoh is quoted issuing the order to ‘guard the place of the king that is with you’ in (Egyptianized) Akkadian, ú-´ur-mi aš-ri LUGAL ša it-te-ka (EA 293:10–11; similarly EA 292:20–22 and 294:8–11); but Pharaoh’s own letters to his Canaanite vassals convey this order in Canaano-Akkadian: ù u´-´ur lu-ú na-´a-ra-ta aš-ru LUGAL ša it-ti-ka (EA 99:7–9, 367:4–5, and 370:4–6, again conjugating na´āru as a Canaanite suffixed form; on the Egyptian calques in the Akkadian used in these letters, as well as in the quotations in EA 292–294, see Moran 1992:xxvii–xxviii, with nn. 75–76). The point at issue could be illustrated by many other examples. Rīb-Hadda, writing to Pharaoh, quotes Abdi-Aširta of Amurru in Canaano-Akkadian, not in Amurru Akkadian (EA 74:25–27 and 31–41, the second passage ostensibly reporting the content of a written message); but Pharaoh, writing to Aziru of Amurru, quotes both Aziru and Rīb-Hadda in Akkadian (EA 162:4–6, 8, 17–18, etc.). RībHadda even quotes the king of Mittani in Canaano-Akkadian (EA 95:29–33; see Liverani 1998, no. 156, with n. 102). The evidence could hardly do more to clar-

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Non-standard spelling can be a significant source of evidence for phonological developments in the language of texts, and thus for the continued use of that language in speech.31 Unconventional spellings of Sumerian words accordingly constitute an important element of Christopher Woods’s argument that Sumerian continued to be spoken during the Ur III and Old Babylonian periods: in contrast to the “frozen morphology of the standard orthography,” these “unorthographic spellings,” he argues, “suggest the assimilations, dissimilations, and the allophonic and allomorphic variations that belong to the realm of speech” (Woods 2007:100). Similarly, Shlomo Izre’el presents examples of written forms that purportedly attest morphophonological developments within Canaano-Akkadian (Izre’el forthcoming §§ 2.2.1–5), in order to demonstrate that Canaano-Akkadian was spoken and therefore has the status of an actual language.32 But his interpretation of the writings he adduces as evidence of phonology entails the assumption that spelling represents pronunciation, and thus involves circular logic inasmuch as the proposition to be demonstrated—that Canaano-Akkadian was spoken as it was written—is simultaneously required to serve as a premise of the argument. Regardless of the logical problem, most of the writings that Izre’el presents as evidence of linguistic development are more easily explained as the result of regional spelling practices, or in some cases possibly scribal error.33 Among the few examples that appear to be more easily explained by reference to phonology are occasional instances of the assimilation of nun to a following consonant, where the nun and the following consonant respectively belong to Canaanite and Akkadian morphemes. But since such assimilation occurs in both West Semitic lanify that the language employed for writing does not represent the actual language(s) of communication. 31 Note, for example, Adams’s discussion of transliterated texts (2003:40–67), in which he distinguishes phonetic spellings of Latin words in the Greek alphabet, as evidence for the Latin speech of the writers, from orthographic conventions for the writing of Latin in Greek script, which are employed independent of actual pronunciation. 32 In his study of Amurru Akkadian, too, Izre’el identifies orthographic features as evidence of the phonology of this “dialect” (1991, Ch. 1), though without marshalling such data in a coordinated argument for its use in speech; his assumption that Amurru Akkadian was a “living language” is made explicit (ibid. 13), but not provided with an evidentiary and theoretical foundation. 33 For details, see von Dassow 2004:661–664, where I also discuss Izre’el’s examples of morphological creativity as evidence for the “spoken reality” of Canaano-Akkadian.

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guages and Akkadian, Canaanite scribes could easily have applied this feature in writing without ever having spoken the written forms thus produced—after all, they did know the phonetic values of the signs they used. Such orthographies are not, therefore, evidence that the language of writing possessed any phonology of its own. It is no more unproblematic to assume that spelling represents pronunciation than to assume that quotation in writing represents the words actually spoken. Even if spelling conventions had once been created to capture a language’s spoken form (which of course is not always true), non-standard spellings may reflect the disuse in speech of the language of writing instead of attesting morphophonological developments in speech. Moreover, despite the kinship between the questions involved, the redeployment of an argument devised for assessing the continued use in speech of a language known to have existed in some form (such as Sumerian) to prove the existence of a postulated language (any form of Peripheral Akkadian) is logically problematic, enough so that such an argument can only supplement sounder criteria, not stand on its own. The novel Sumerian orthographies Woods discusses may attest the speaking of Sumerian in the Old Babylonian period, but non-standard spellings of Akkadian words by Canaanite scribes do not attest the speaking of Canaano-Akkadian, and consequently fail to furnish a valid argument that such a language existed. One of the other types of evidence Woods adduces, in conjunction with unconventional spellings, is particularly pertinent here: in the texts he considers, glosses are in Sumerian, not Akkadian (2007:101)—that is, Sumerian was really the language of these texts, the language in which they were read, and the correct Sumerian reading is indicated by such glosses. The same type of evidence in the Canaanite Akkadian texts indicates that the language of those texts was Canaanite. Certainly the spelling of Akkadian forms in the Canaanite Amarna letters often reflects the fact that (correct) Akkadian was not spoken by the scribes of these texts, while their spelling of (correct) Canaanite forms reflects the fact that they did speak Canaanite. Whether any of the unconventional or non-normative Akkadian forms that are used in Peripheral Akkadian writing should be understood to represent Peripheral Akkadian speech is doubtful. Though the question cannot be answered by means of analogy, it is worth noting that the Late Babylonian writing of Akkadian presents virtually the same constellation of issues as Peripheral Akkadian, for it similarly involves frozen graphic forms, novel orthogra-

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phies, the question of interference from a cognate spoken language— Aramaic—and the problem of determining whether the Late Babylonian language used in writing was actually spoken. According to Michael Streck’s analysis, Late Babylonian was indeed spoken, but its morphophonology had diverged so far from the language’s written representation that much of the standard syllabic orthography had effectively become morphographemic; and then, rather than reforming the spelling conventions so as to represent speech more accurately, Late Babylonian scribes tended to elaborate them so that the relation of sign to sound was more oblique.34 Thus Late Babylonian writing is, in large part, the Akkadography of the Late Babylonian language, just as, I propose, varieties of Peripheral Akkadian writing are largely the Akkadography of local languages.35 But perhaps yet another approach is needed, besides the alloglottographic model according to which one language is encoded by means of writing another, and the model according to which writing literally embodies language. Each of these two models presupposes that, somehow or other, writing does encode communication in some specifiable language.36 This need not always be true. To suggest that writing does 34 Streck (2001) focuses specifically on Late Babylonian spelling practices that are likely to reflect the influence of Aramaic alphabetic writing on cuneiform orthography, through the medium of scribes who used both scripts. This aspect of his discussion is of additional interest with regard to the development of Peripheral Akkadian writing conventions, alongside alphabetic writing, in the Late Bronze Age Levant. 35 A comparable process transpired in the development of Late Egyptian writing conventions, as described by Ogden Goelet (2008) in a recent essay on scribal education in the Ramesside period: not only does Egyptian orthography of this period indicate ignorance of the phonology underlying inherited writings, there is a general trend away from representing phonology or even morphology and toward enabling rapid visual apprehension of words by treating individual lexemes as immutable units. (Goelet’s comparison of the output of Ramesside scribal education to the modern “whole word” method of instruction in reading and writing, as distinct from the “phonics” method, is apt (ibid. 108); his assumption that the concept of spelling implies phonetic representation is however infelicitous, as is the general tendency to conflate language with the writing of it.) This does not of course mean that Late Egyptian scribes no longer spoke Egyptian, rather their Egyptian speech had diverged so far from the form of the language embodied in traditional orthography that their modifications to this orthography yielded a sort of “Egyptography” of Egyptian. 36 Yakubovitch’s objection to the “teleological character” of the alloglottographic model, which he raised in commenting on the oral presentation of this

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not necessarily encode utterances in a particular language is not to raise from the philosophical dustbin discarded notions about ideographic writing systems directly capturing ideas without the intermediary of language.37 Rather it points to the functional and conceptual autonomy of writing in relation to language. Writing does things spoken language cannot do, and not simply inasmuch as it enables transcending the temporal and spatial bounds of live speech. In no case, as Jerrold Cooper points out, was writing invented “to mimic spoken language or to perform spoken language’s functions” (2004:83). Written expression moreover takes forms spoken language cannot take, and it does not typically replicate the forms that spoken language does take. Not only are there no “oral counterparts” (Cooper’s phrase) to most types of texts produced early in the history of any writing system (such as accounts, offering lists, and building inscriptions), in their early incarnations all writing systems that arguably were independently invented express language “only in highly restricted applications, and all depend to some degree on nonlinguistic features—tablet format, string placement, figural representation, institutional context—for their interpretation” (ibid. 80). Thus, for example, in the case of early Mesopotamian writing, “the role of grammar and syntax in ordering language and rendering it intelligible was performed for the archaic administrative tablets by format” (ibid. 81). Language without grammar and syntax is an impossibility. That written signs may equivocally represent words or morphemes theoretically realpaper, and which he likewise expresses in his review of Sanders 2006, seems to be meant to capture this problem (the word “teleology” is of course inappropriate). He points out that “in most cases we simply have no way to directly assess the expectations of the authors of ancient texts as to how they should be read” (Yakubovitch 2008:205). In fact, many ancient texts were probably not expected to be read at all, except perhaps within the very limited orbit of their production and use (this would apply to most administrative records and legal documents); in the case of letters, normally their reading in the language of the addressee has to be assumed, no matter how they were written. 37 This idea, whose ancestry goes back to classical Greece, was originally developed with regard to Egyptian hieroglyphic writing (its history is recounted in Pope 1999); in the modern period it has been applied to various other scripts, in particular Chinese, prompting an emphatically-argued rejection by Boltz (1994: 5–8). Partly in reaction, it seems, to the romantic mysticism of the notion that Chinese characters embody ideas unmediated by linguistic articulation, Boltz insistently defines writing as “the graphic representation of speech; and a writing system, then, as any graphic means for the systematic representation of speech” (ibid. 17). His definition is too restrictive, as the observations that follow show.

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izable in any language does not violate the putative bond of writing to language, but that writing should do without representing grammar and syntax means that in such a case it does not encode language (except in a very limited way); instead, it encodes information, which may be realized in linguistic form. Even as a writing system develops fuller resources for representing language, up to the point that all elements of a specific language can be encoded, this capacity is not actualized in all text genres (for it need not be), and in the meantime conventions for the written recording of linguistic utterance have also developed, so as to perpetuate and even foster the distinctive character of written expression. The result is that writing serves as much to mask as to express language. And the consequence for the study of languages attested only by written sources is that linguistic concepts, theories, and typologies developed based on observation of spoken language, and developed to explain phenomena in spoken language, do not apply. Or better, they can only be applied if they are first extended so as to take account of the fundamental distinctions between written texts and speech. J. N. Adams makes this point in his recent study of bilingualism in the Latin-using world, emphasizing “the inadequacy of applying to a written text the same methodologies as those used by linguists investigating modern speech communities” (2003:xxi). Michalowski draws the conclusions for the cuneiform-using world, observing first that “the restricted and stylized versions of Akkadian and Sumerian that were preserved in permanent form do not in any way represent spoken language, alive or dead” (2007:173). If this is so for Mesopotamia, how much more so for the “periphery”! He proceeds to point out that “much of what we conceive as historical development can be conceived of as change in writing conventions” (ibid. 174). What then of such phenomena as linguistic interference? The data that seem to suggest this process may be interpreted “as evidence for interference not among vernaculars, but in the restricted domain of written tradition” (ibid. 182). Of necessity, the like would apply to the Peripheral Akkadian-using world of the Levant, where, as Márquez Rowe demonstrates, “the written word and the spoken word clearly belonged to two different linguistic systems” (2006:166): the varieties of Peripheral Akkadian existed in writing only. Contact language theory concerns the use and development of language in speech. Insofar as writing, especially the writing of ancient texts, does not represent speech, it is a logical fallacy to lift concepts drawn from contact linguistics and employ them unmodified in the analysis of

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written sources. To see linguistic interference, interlanguages, mixed languages, and code-switching in written texts is a delusion if the writing of those texts does not replicate spoken language—unless one can demonstrate that parallel phenomena operate in the use and development of written forms of language. And they may well do. If the use of language in writing constitutes a distinct linguistic system, it is reasonable to expect that the types of phenomena observed in speech should have analogues in writing. Huehnergard observes that one of the few features shared by all Peripheral Akkadian dialects, other than the presence of “substrate interference,” is that, “in common with pidgin languages … all exhibit some simplification or regularization vis-à-vis the grammar of the normative [Akkadian] dialect,” this simplification typically resulting in “reduction of allomorphism.”38 Izre’el similarly observes that the “simplification and reduction” characteristic of a lingua franca are found in Amurru Akkadian.39 This phenomenon is a real feature of the peripheral use of Akkadian, regardless of whether one believes in the existence of (spoken) peripheral Akkadian dialects or is persuaded that peripheral Akkadian predominantly functions as a means to render local speech into written form. Likewise real are the durable borrowing, calquing, and emulation in West Semitic languages of words, phrases, and formulae derived from Sumerian and Akkadian (as well as Egyptian, and to a lesser extent other languages), which became locally integrated to the point that such loanwords and formulae persist into biblical Hebrew; and this phenomenon is a linguistic one, be it effected via writing or speech. If no Akkadian was ever spoken in the Late Bronze Age Levant (not, in any case, as a regular, locally-established form of speech), elements of Akkadian nonetheless en-

38

Huehnergard 1989:272. The only other broadly shared features that he identifies are one “abstract” characteristic, “admixtures of Mesopotamian dialects other than the one that constitutes the basic grammatical matrix,” and two specific features, “indiscriminate use of signs to represent voiced, voiceless, and emphatic stops,” and the use of the enclitic -mê (yielding kīmê, mīnummê, etc.). All three can readily be understood as outcomes of the teaching and practice of particular conventions of writing, rather than representing actual “dialectal” features. 39 Izre’el 1991:364. One of the more interesting features of simplification that Izre’el describes is the replacement of synthetic constructions by analytic ones, in particular constructions using the relative ša (1991:366). By contrast, Wilhelm explains various usages of pleonastic ša in the Nuzi texts by reference to the interference of Hurrian (1970:81–83). It should be noted that simplification and interference are different (albeit potentially congruent) phenomena (see Huehnergard 1989:272–274; he also mentions that simplification and reduction are distinct, 272, n. 2).

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tered Levantine languages, and they would have to have done so through the medium of writing. In the meantime, while they lasted, the written forms of Akkadian employed in the Levant were transformed by their users. Contact language theory does not account for these processes that transpired in and through writing. If you wish to describe interference, borrowing, and mixing among forms of language that existed in writing only, you must develop the requisite extensions of contact linguistics to describe what happens to language in writing. Such work has been begun by Adams (2003) in considering the use of Latin by bilinguals in classical antiquity. Having defined the relevant terms and delineated the types of phenomena they designate, he inquires how interference, mixing, and so on may operate in the production of written sources, distinguishing the operation of these phenomena on the orthographic level and the linguistic level.40 The same kind of investigation could be undertaken for the ancient Near East (or some reasonable slice of it), starting from the methodological groundwork Adams has laid and elaborating it as necessary to deal with non-alphabetic as well as alphabetic scripts. In the meantime, however, our sources require us to develop a more comprehensive theory of writing, one that can account for the complexity of its actual operation and usage. We are accustomed to assuming that writing represents language; most of us were taught that way when, as children, we learned to read and write, and now we may hardly be able to think of (or in) a language without simultaneously visualizing its written form. But this modern conception of writing and its relation to language is a special case, not the norm on the basis of which writing may be defined. As well as simply encoding (a) language, writing 40 Besides definitions, Adams starts by setting forth a typology of textual sources that serve as evidence for bilingualism (2003, Ch. 1), which is a prerequisite for studying contact language phenomena, given that it is bilingual individuals through whom language contact transpires (see above, pp. 902–903, with n. 16). Curiously, alloglottography, properly understood as the mechanism whereby graphic representation of one language encodes expression in another (cf. Adams’s flat reading of Gershevitch’s theory as essentially identical to “wordfor-word translation,” ibid. 470–471), seems to have been left out of account in this otherwise thorough study. Many of the observations, case studies, and arguments developed by Adams are relevant to the issues under discussion here: note, for example, his remarks on “the transitory and individual character of a good deal of contact-induced change” (p. 426), necessitating a distinction between “ephemeral interference” and “contact-induced change” (p. 526); and his point that the presence of “language mixture” in texts does not imply the existence of a “mixed language” (pp. 717–718).

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may represent selected elements of language in formulating texts that correspond to no spoken utterance; it may encode forms of language that no one ever spoke; and it may encode expression in one language by means of the graphic representation of (elements of) another language. In the ancient Near East, that the language of writing should differ from the language of the text, or in any case from the language of reading, was normal. Regarding the use of Aramaic as the common language of writing throughout the Achaemenid Empire, Jonas Greenfield cites the statement in Ezra 4:7 that a document was “written in Aramaic and read in Aramaic” (his translation) as a reflection of the “well known practice … of writing one’s documents in the Aramaic script but reading them in the local language” (1991:182). It would have been superfluous for the passage in Ezra to specify that the language of writing and the language of reading were the same, if this could be taken for granted! Of the same well-known practice, Greenfield elsewhere states, adducing several more biblical testimonia, that “the means by which Aramaic script was used to facilitate communication has often been described: the document was dictated by the king or by an official to the scribe, who then wrote the text in Aramaic; the addressee’s scribe read the letter in the recipient’s native tongue” (1985:707–708). Thus, rather than representing the language of communication, writing could serve as an intermediary between languages. References Adams 2003 Arnaud 2006 Boltz 1994

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Adams, J. N. Bilingualism and the Latin Language. Cambridge. Arnaud, D. Un fragment de lettre en canaanéen: RS 94. 2615, provenant sans doute de Tyr. AuOr 24:7–15. Boltz, W. G. The Origin and Early Development of the Chinese Writing System (AOS 78). New Haven (reprinted with corrections, 2004). Charpin, D. Histoire politique du Proche-Orient Amorrite (2002–1595). Part 1. Attinger, P. et al. (ed.). Mesopotamien: Die altbabylonische Zeit (OBO 160/4). Fribourg. Civil, M. Bilingualism in Logographically Written Languages: Sumerian in Ebla. Cagni, L. (ed.). Il Bilinguismo a Ebla. Atti del convegno internazionale (Napoli, 19–22 aprile 1982). Naples. Pp. 75–97. Cooper, J. S. Babylonian Beginnings: The Origin of the Cuneiform Writing System in Comparative Perspective. Houston, S. (ed.). The First Writing: Script Invention as History and Process. Cambridge. Pp. 71–99.

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Peripheral Akkadian Cooper, J. S. Response for the First Session: Origins, Function, Adaptation, Survival. Sanders, S. L. (ed.). Margins of Writing (2nd printing). Chicago. Pp. 87–91. Daniels, P. T.; Bright, W. (eds.). The World’s Writing Systems. Oxford. Dietrich, M.; Loretz, O. Der Vertrag zwischen Ir-Addu von Tunip und Niqmepa von Mukiš. Young, G. D. et al. (eds.). Crossing Boundaries and Linking Horizons. Bethesda. Pp. 211–242. Gelb, I. J. A Study of Writing (2nd ed.). Chicago. Gelb, I. J. A Note on Morphographemics. Cohen, D. (ed.). Mélanges Marcel Cohen (Janua linguarum. Series maior 27). The Hague. Pp. 73–77. Gershevitch, I. Alloglottography of Old Persian. Transactions of the Philological Society 1979:114–190. Gianto, A. Word Order Variation in the Akkadian of Byblos (StP 15). Rome. Gianto, A. Amarna Akkadian as a Contact Language. Van Lerberghe, K.; Voet, G. (eds.). Languages and Cultures in Contact. Proceedings of the 42th Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale (OLA 96). Leuven. Pp. 123–132. Giorgieri, M. Bedeutung und Stellung der ‘mitannischen’ Kultur im Rahmen der Kulturgeschichte Vorderasiens. Prechel, D. (ed.). Motivation und Mechanismen des Kulturkontaktes in der Späten Bronzezeit (Eothen 13). Firenze. Pp. 77–101. Goelet, O. Writing Ramesside Hieratic: What the LateEgyptian Miscellanies Tell us about Scribal Education. D’Auria, S. H. (ed.). Servant of Mut: Studies in Honor of Richard A. Fazzini. Leiden. Pp. 102–110. Greenfield, J. Aramaic in the Achaemenian Empire. Ch. 15 in The Cambridge History of Iran. Vol. 2. The Median and Achaemenian Periods. Cambridge. Greenfield, J. Of Scribes, Scripts, and Languages. Baurain, C. et al. (eds.). Phoinikeia Grammata: Lire et écrire en Méditerranée (Studia Phoenicia). Namur. Pp. 173–185. Huehnergard, J. Ugaritic Vocabulary in Syllabic Transcription (HSS 32). Atlanta. Huehnergard, J. The Akkadian of Ugarit (HSS 34). Atlanta. Izre’el, S. Amurru Akkadian: A Linguistic Study. 2 vols. (HSS 40). Atlanta. Izre’el, S. Canaano-Akkadian: Some Methodological Requisites for the Study of the Amarna Letters from Canaan. Bietak, M.; Goldwasser, O. (eds.). In the Footsteps of the Hyksos (provisional title); http://www.tau.ac.il/humanities/semitic/canakk2007.pdf.

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Langslow, D. R. Approaching Bilingualism in Corpus Languages. Adams, J. N. et al. (eds.). Bilingualism in Ancient Society: Language Contact and the Written Text. Oxford. Pp. 23–51. Liverani, M. Le lettere di el-Amarna. I. Le lettere dei “Piccoli Re” (Testi del Vicino Oriente antico 2. Letterature mesopotamiche 3). Brescia. Márquez Rowe, I. Notes on the Hurro-Akkadian of Alala¶ in the Mid-Second Millennium B.C.E. Izre’el, S. et al. (eds.). Past Links: Studies in the Languages and Cultures of the Ancient Near East (IOS 18). Winona Lake. Pp. 63–78. Márquez Rowe, I. Reflexiones sobre el acadio como lengua de contacto en el antiguo oriente. Bádenas de la Peña, P. et al. (eds.). Lenguas en contacto: el testimonio escrito. Madrid. Pp. 17–34. Márquez Rowe, I. The Royal Deeds of Ugarit: A Study of Ancient Near Eastern Diplomatics (AOAT 335). Münster. Michalowski, P. The Lives of the Sumerian Language. Sanders, S. L. (ed.). Margins of Writing (2nd printing). Chicago. Pp. 163–190. Moran, W. L. The Amarna Letters. Baltimore. Na’aman, N. Amarna Notes. NABU 1997/21. Neu, E. Das hurritische Epos der Freilassung. I (StBoT 32). Wiesbaden. Pope, M. The Story of Decipherment. London. Rainey, A. F. Canaanite in the Amarna Tablets: A Linguistic Analysis of the Mixed Dialect Used by the Scribes from Canaan. 4 vols. Leiden. Richter, T. Qatna in the Late Bronze Age: Preliminary Remarks. Owen, D. I.; Wilhelm, G. (eds.). General Studies and Excavations at Nuzi 11/1 (SCCNH 15). Bethesda. Pp. 109–126. Richter, T. Hurriter und Hurritisch im bronzezeitlichen Syrien. Prechel, D. (ed.). Motivation und Mechanismen des Kulturkontaktes in der Späten Bronzezeit (Eothen 13). Firenze. Pp. 145–178. Roche, C. Classification de l’utilisation du cunéiforme mésopotamien dans les textes ougaritiques. Biggs, R. D. et al. (eds.). Proceedings of the 51st Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale Held at the Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago, July 18–22, 2005 (SAOC 62). Chicago. Pp. 155–170. Rubio, G. Writing in Another Tongue. Sanders, S. L. (ed.). Margins of Writing (2nd printing). Chicago. Pp. 33–70 (including postscript). Sanders, S. L. (ed.). Margins of Writing, Origins of Cultures (OIS 2). Chicago (1st printing, 2006; 2nd printing, 2007).

924 Sasson 2002

Skjærvø 1996

Smith 1996 Stolper–Tavernier 2007

Streck 2001

Thomason 2001 Thomason 2004

Tuttle 1996

van den Hout 2007

von Dassow 2004 [2006] von Dassow 2008 Wilhelm 1970 Wilhelm 2001

Woods 2007

Wright 1982 Wright (ed.) 1991 Yakubovich 2008

Peripheral Akkadian Sasson, J. M. The Burden of Scribes. Abusch, T. (ed.). Riches Hidden in Secret Places: Ancient Near Eastern Studies in Memory of Thorkild Jacobsen. Winona Lake. Pp. 211–228. Skjærvø, P. O. Aramaic Scripts for Iranian Languages. Daniels, P. T.; Bright, W. (eds.). The World’s Writing Systems. Oxford. Pp. 515–535. Smith, J. S. Japanese Writing. Daniels, P. T.; Bright, W. (eds.). The World’s Writing Systems. Oxford. Pp. 209–217. Stolper, M. W.; Tavernier, J. From the Persepolis Fortification Archive Project. 1. An Old Persian Administrative Tablet from the Persepolis Fortification. ARTA: Achaemenid Research on Texts and Archaeology (on line). Streck, M. P. Keilschrift und Alphabet. Borchers, D. et al. (eds.). Hieroglyphen, Alphabete, Schriftreformen. Studien zu Multiliteralismus, Schriftwechsel und Orthographieneuregelungen (Lingua Aegyptia, Studia monographica 3). Göttingen. Pp. 77–97. Thomason, S. Language Contact: An Introduction. Washington. Thomason, S. Determining Language Contact Effects in Ancient Contact Situations. Bádenas de la Peña, P. et al. (eds.). Lenguas en contacto: el testimonio escrito. Madrid. Pp. 1–14. Tuttle, E. Adaptations of the Roman Alphabet: Romance Languages. Daniels, P. T.; Bright, W. (eds.). The World’s Writing Systems. Oxford. Pp. 633–642. van den Hout, T. Institutions, Vernaculars, Publics. Sanders, S. L. (ed.). Margins of Writing (2nd printing). Chicago. Pp. 221–262 (including postscript). von Dassow, E. Canaanite in Cuneiform. JAOS 124/4: 641–674. von Dassow, E. State and Society in the Late Bronze Age: Alala¶ under the Mittani Empire (SCCNH 17). Bethesda. Wilhelm, G. Untersuchungen zum Úurro-Akkadischen von Nuzi (AOAT 9). Kevelaer. Wilhelm, G. Das hurritisch-hethitische ‘Lied der Freilassung.’ Kaiser, O. (ed.). Texte aus der Umwelt des Alten Testaments. Ergänzungslieferung. Gütersloh. Pp. 82–91. Woods, C. Bilingualism, Scribal Learning, and the Death of Sumerian. Sanders, S. L. (ed.). Margins of Writing (2nd printing). Chicago. Pp. 95–124. Wright, R. Late Latin and Early Romance in Spain and Carolingian France. Liverpool. Wright, R. (ed.). Latin and the Romance Languages in the Early Middle Ages. London. Yakubovich, I. Review of Sanders, S. L. (ed.). Margins of Writing. Chicago, 2006. JIES 36/1:202–211.

Limited-corpus Languages of the Ancient Near East

Zu den sogenannten Wurzelerweiterungen des Hurritischen Allgemeine Probleme und Einzelfälle

Mauro Giorgieri Università de Pavia

0. Mit der pauschalen, etikettenartigen Bezeichung “Wurzelerweiterungen” (engl. root-complements, it. ampliamenti radicali) werden in den hurritologischen Studien jene Morpheme bezeichnet, die unmittelbar nach der Basiswurzel auftreten und derer Bedeutung unterschiedlich modifizieren. Manchmal können sie auch in Folge von mehreren angeordnet sein. Sowohl die Zahl als auch die Funktion und die exakte phonologische Gestalt der meisten dieser Suffixe konnten leider noch nicht mit Sicherheit bestimmt werden. 1. Um einen ersten Überblick über diese Morpheme zu bieten, habe ich in die folgende Tabelle diejenigen Suffixe gesammelt, die in den in jüngerer Zeit publizierten grammatikalischen Abrissen der hurritischen Sprache als Wurzelerweiterungen identifiziert wurden: Wegner 2007:87ff. Bei Verben: 1. -al-: unklar 2. -am-: Faktitiv 3. -an(n)-: Kausativ 4. -apš-/-epš-: unklar, gelegentlich an Zahlwörter 5. -ar-: Faktitiv und Iterativ 6. -aš-: intensivierend 7. -ad-: unklar 8. -a¶¶-: unklar (vielleicht räumliche Beziehung) 9. -e/i¶-: Funktion “ein-, hinein”? 10. -uk+ar-: Gegenseitigkeit und Iterativ-Durativ 11. -u/ol-: Reflexiv und intransitivierend

Giorgieri 2000:196ff. 1. -aġ-/-a¶¶-, -iġ-, -oġ-, uġ-: significato sconosciuto, talvolta indicatore di direzione 2. -al-, -o/ul(l)-: significato non chiaro, forse indicatore di dimensione spaziale 3. -am-: significato fattitivo 4. -an(n)-: significato causativo 5. -apš-, -epš-: significato sconosciuto 6. -ar-: significato iterativo-frequentativo

Wilhelm 2004:101f. 1. -aġ-/-a¶¶-, -iġ-, -oġ-, -uġ-: meaning unknown 2. -al-: meaning unknown 3. -am-: factitive 4. -an(n)-: causative 5. -an-: meaning unknown 6. -and-: meaning unknown (bimorphemic?) 7. -ang-: meaning unknown (bimorphic?) 8. -apš-, -epš-: meaning unknown 9. -ar-: iterative-frequentative 10. -až-: intensive

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12. -ol-: unklar 13. -om-: unklar 14. -on-: unklar 15. -Všt-: in einigen Fällen hat denominalisierenden Charakter (auch grammatikalische Funktion: Aspekt od. Aktionsart) 16. -ill-: Inchoativ oder Ingressiv (nur in der Bo. Bil.) 17. -il+an-: in al=il=an=o=m der Bo. Bil. 13. -upp-: unklare Bedeutung 14. -uš(š)-: unklare Bedeutung 15.- ut-: unklare Bedeutung; wohl nicht dasselbe wie die Negationspartikel -ut16. -t-: unklare Bedeutung; vielleicht identisch mit der WE -t- der Nominalmorphologie 17. -u/o¶-: unklare Bedeutung 18. -ir-: unklar 19. -o/ur-: unklare Bedeutung

7. -o/um-: significato sconosciuto 8. -ud-: serve a negare il significato di base della radice 9. -ugar-: significato reciproco

11. -om-: meaning unknown 12. -ugar-: reciprocal (bimorphemic? cfr. -ar) 13. -up(p)-: meaning unknown 14. -ur-: meaning unknown

In einem “Anhang” am Ende des Artikels findet sich dann ein Katalog, der all jene Suffixe enthält, die sowohl in den oben erwähnten Grammatiken als auch an anderen Stellen der hurritologischen Sekundärliteratur als Wurzelerweiterungen erkannt bzw. besprochen wurden. Vollständigkeit wird angestrebt, wohl jedoch nicht erreicht. Dabei handelt es sich meistens um Suffixe, die selten begegnen und deren morphologische Segmentierung bzw. Funktion als Wurzelerweiterung noch unklar oder bestritten ist. Eine ausführliche Besprechung all dieser Suffixe würde den Rahmen dieses Beitrages sprengen. Man kann aber in dem Katalog im “Anhang” einige Beispiele finden, die die Existenz der jeweiligen Suffixe bezeugen und ihre Verwendung verdeutlichen, sowie zusäztliche, nützliche bibliographische Hinweise aus der jüngeren Literatur. Wenn möglich, habe ich immer die Basiswurzel angegeben, an die die Wurzelerweiterung antritt. 2. Wie schon aus der oben gebotenen Tabelle und dem Verzeichnis im “Anhang” hervorgeht, ist es ein Problem, welche Morpheme man als Wurzelerweiterungen klassifizieren kann. Es besteht zwischen den drei oben erwähnten grammatikalischen Abrissen der hurritischen Sprache keine volle Übereinstimmung weder über die Anzahl der Wurzelerweite-

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rungen noch über die exakte Funktion von mehreren dieser Suffixe. Was ihre Anzahl betrifft, so habe ich mich z. B. in meiner Behandlung (Giorgieri 2000:196ff.) auf die wichtigsten, besser belegten und gedeuteten Formen beschränkt, ohne andere, kaum verständliche, äußerst fragliche Suffixe zu berücksichtigen. Dennoch denke ich in Unterschied sowohl zu Wegner 2007, die ein weiteres, homonymes Suffix -ud- in Betracht zieht, als auch zu Wilhelm 2004, daß etwa das negative Suffix -ud- eine Wurzelerweiterung ist, d. h. nicht zu den grammatical, sondern zu den derivational Morphemen gehört. Darauf werde ich später im einzelnen eingehen (s. § 4). In anderen Fällen gibt z. B. Wegner 2007, Giorgieri 2000 und Wilhelm 2004 gegenüber, eine verschiedene Interpretation der Funktion eines Suffixes an – so etwa bei der Zuweisung einer faktitiven Funktion zu dem Suffix -ar-, wobei Giorgieri 2000 und Wilhelm 2004 nur eine iterativfrequentative Funktion erkennen (zu diesem Suffix s. ausführlich § 5). 2.1. Recht auffällig sind die großen Schwierigkeiten, die bei dem Verständnis der exakten Funktion und Bedeutung der meisten Wurzelerweiterungen noch bestehen. In den meisten Fällen bleibt die Funktion dieser Suffixe leider unbekannt. Manchmal ist nicht klar, welchen Unterschied es zwischen der Basiswurzel und der erweiterten Form gibt (z. B. zwischen tan- und tan=d-, beide ‘machen’, tal- und tal=a¶¶-, beide ‘fortnehmen’; s. “Anhang”). Manchmal ist sogar die Bedeutung der Basiswurzel unklar oder ist eine Basiswurzel überhaupt nicht belegt (z. B. bei ¶ic=uġ- ‘betrüben’; s. “Anhang”). Dazu kommen auch die Probleme der exakten Bestimmung der phonologischen Gestalt von mehreren Formen, wobei der -o- bzw. -u-Vokalismus insbesondere schwierig zu bestimmen ist (z. B. bei -o/ul(l)-, -o/um-, -o/ur-; s. “Anhang”). 2.2. Abgesehen von diesen Schwierigkeiten, die uns ein befriedigendes Verständnis des gesamten Bereiches der sogenannten Wurzelerweiterungen noch verwehren, möchte ich nun auf ein Problem hinweisen, das die nähere, sprachwissenschaftliche Charakterisierung der Wurzelerweiterungen betrifft und vielleicht der markanteste Unterschied zwischen der Behandlung der Wurzelerweiterungen durch mich und Wilhelm einerseits und Wegner andererseits darstellt. Wegner behandelt zwar diese Morpheme innerhalb der Verbalmorphologie und betrachtet sie morphologisch in derselben Weise wie einige Elemente, die zur Bildung von Nomina dienen (d. h. Suffixe wie etwa -ade in fir=ade ‘auswärtiger Gast’,1 -ardi in der Bildung von Kollektiva wie z. B. šal(a)=ardi ‘Tochterschaft’, oder -ži in der Bildung von Abstrakta

1

Zu diesem Bedeutungsansatz für das Wort firade s. Wilhelm 2005:175ff.

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wie z. B. itk=al=zi ‘Reinigung’, usw.). Das erklärt wohl auch, warum Wegner unter den Wurzelerweiterungen auch Suffixe wie -ill- (inchoativ-ingressiv), -ol- (reflexiv-intransitivierend) und -Všt- (Aktionsart-/Aspekt-Markierung?) mit berücksichtigt, die meiner Meinung nach vielmehr als grammatikalische Elemente der Verbalmorphologie zu betrachten sind. Wegner selbst ist wahrscheinlich davon bewußt, wenn sie auf S. 130 ihrer Grammatik schreibt: “[…] Formanten wie -Všt-, -ill-, -a¶¶-, -uš- und -u/ol- […], für die vielleicht das Etikett ‘Wurzelerweiterung’ nicht zutreffend ist, da sie wahrscheinlich etwas anderes – Aktionsart- oder Aspektmarkierung – signalisieren.”2

2.3. Um den Begriff “Wurzelerweiterung” besser zu verstehen und zu definieren, wäre dagegen meiner Meinung nach wichtig, diese Elemente als primäre Derivationssuffixe zu bestimmen, die weder der Nominalmorphologie stricto sensu noch der Verbalmorphologie stricto sensu zuzuweisen sind. Ich verwende hier den Begriff “Derivationssuffix” in einem breiteren Sinne als üblich in der Hurritologie – wo man als Derivationssuffixe diejenigen Suffixe versteht, die nach dem sogenannten Derivationsvokal -o- auftreten3 –, d. h. im Sinne von “derivational suffixes” (vs. “inflectional” oder “grammatical” suffixes).4 3. Wie die wenigen unten angeführten Beispiele es zeigen, den verbalen bzw. nominalen Charakter einer Form liefern erst die grammatikalischen Elemente (“inflectional suffixes”) der Verbal- bzw. Nominalmorphologie. (1) eman ‘zehn’ + -am- (faktitiv):

(2) tal- ‘herausnehmen’ + -a¶(¶)-:

(3) tād- ‘lieben’ + -ūgār- (rezipr.):

2

eman=am=ož=aw ‘ich habe verzehnfacht’ (Mitt.), trans.-erg. Prät 1. Pers. Sg. eman=am=ġ(e)=a ‘zehnfach’, Essiv (Adverb) tal=a¶¶=o=m ‘er hat fortgenommen’ (Bo. Bil.), trans.-erg. 3 Pers. Sg. (Althurr.) tal=a¶(¶)=o/ul=zi ‘(Herbei)-Ziehen(?)’/‘Reinigung(?)’ (Bo.)5 tād=ūgār=(i)=r(< l)=eva ‘Mögen (wir) einander lieben!’ (Mitt.), Wunschform auf -i= l=eva tad=ugar=ni “gegenseitige Liebe” (Bo.)

Wegner 2007:130; vgl. Wilhelm 1992b:670. So in Giorgieri 2000:204ff.; Wilhelm 2004:105f. 4 Vgl. etwa Bybee 1985:81ff. 5 Zum Bedeutungsansatz ‘(Herbei)-Ziehen’ s. Haas 1998:6 mit Anm. 23, 243; Wilhelm 2004:104 (‘attraction’) und Wegner 2007:59 (‘Herbeiziehung’). Zum Bedeutungsansatz ‘Reinigung’ s. Janowski–Wilhelm 1993:147 mit Anm. 179. Wegner und Wilhelm analysieren die Form als tal=a¶(¶)=o/u=l=zi. 3

M. Giorgieri, Zu den sogenannten Wurzelerweiterungen… (4) puġ- ‘tauschen’ + -ugar- (rezipr.):

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puġ=ugar=ož=i ‘(Pn1 mit PN2) hat einen Austausch gemacht’ (Ug.), trans.-nichterg. Prät. 3. Pers. Sg.6 puġ=ugar=i ‘Austausch, Ersatz’ (Bo., Nu.)

3.1. Es ist allerdings zu beobachten, daß, während die Funktion von den meisten Wurzelerweiterungen nach semantischen, derivativen Kategorien chrakterisiert werden kann (-a¶¶- hat z. B. vermutlich eine separative Bedetung, -ugar- hat reziproke und vielleicht reflexive und ingressive Funktion; -ann- ist kausativ, -am- faktitiv), in einigen Fällen handelt es sich dabei wohl um grammatikalische Morpheme, die ihren Ursprung im Rahmen der reinen verbalen Morphologie haben (z. B. Morpheme der Aktionsart- oder Aspektmarkierung), die aber in den Bereich der Semantik und des Lexikons, mit anderen Worten der Wortbildung und der Derivation, überführt wurden. 3.2. Gerade dieses Problem möchte ich im folgenden kurz besprechen, auf Grund von zwei Wurzelerweiterungen: -ud- (§ 4) und -ar- (§ 5). Es sei aber vorerst ausdrücklich behauptet, daß es sich bei diesem Prozeß nicht um eigentliche “Lexikalisierung” handelt, da Grundfunktion und Bedeutung dieser Suffixe beibehalten bleiben, sondern um die Überführung von dem Bereich der “inflectional” Grammatik in jenen der “derivational” Grammatik, d. h. des Lexikons und der Semantik. 4. -ud4.1. Eine Negation -ud- konnte E. Neu auf Grund der folgenden Stellen in der hurritisch-hethitischen Bilingue aus Boğazköy (= Bo. Bil.) erkennen:7 (1a) am=ol=ud=o=m ‘er schaute nicht an’ (KBo 32, 14 iv 4, 17 ≈ heth. anda UL aušzi). (1b) am=ud=o=m ‘er beachtete nicht/schaute nicht an’ (KBo 32, 14 i 29, 37 ≈ heth. āraš! UL).8 (1c) fur=ud=o=m ‘er sah nicht’ (KBo 32, 14 i 29, 38 ≈ heth. wemit UL).

An diesen Textstellen entspricht das hurr. Morphem -ud- eindeutig der akkadographischen Negation UL der heth. Fassung. 6

Zur richtigen Lesung dieser Form (RS 15.86, Z. 7: pu-¶u-ka-ru-ši) s. van Soldt 1991:350, Anm. 209. 7 Neu 1988:242 mit Anm. 29. Vgl. jetzt ausführlich Wegner 2007:96f. 8 Zur Deutung dieser Textstelle s. Wilhelm 1992a:128 u. zuletzt de Martino– Giorgieri 2008:72.

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4.2. Weitere durch das Morphem -ud- negierte, transitiv-ergativische Formen des Althurritischen auf -o=m begegnen in den hurritischsprachigen Texten aus Boğazköy, z. B.: (2) a-a¶-ru-du-um (ChS I/1, 3Vs.:12; d. h. aġr=ud=o=m, zu aġr‘weihräuchern’;9 Kontext unklar: ‘ein (Weihrauch-)Geschenk? räucherte er nicht’).

4.3. Nicht nur indikativische Verbalformen auf -o=m, sondern auch Modalformen können anscheinend durch das Morphem -ud- negiert werden: (3a) tapp=ud=evā=tta ‘ich werde/würde (eine Strasse) nicht befestigen’ (ChS I/8, 58 iii 6′).10 (3b) a-ru-ú-ten (ar=ud=en? TB 11021Vs.:5′).11

4.4. In anderen Fällen hat aber das Morphem -ud- meiner Meinung nach vielmehr die Funktion eines lexikalischen Derivationssuffixes und dient als Wurzelerweiterung, um das Gegenteil der Bedeutung der Basiswurzel auszudrücken. Das geht aus den folgenden Beispielen klar hervor, die die Wurzel sul(l)- ‘binden’ betreffen: (4)

sul(l)- ‘binden’ (> sul(l)i ‘Band, Schnur’) vs. sul(l)=ud- ‘lösen (wörtl. los-/ab-binden, los-machen)’.12 (4a) sul(i)=ā=d sul=ud=i=b ‘ich habe ein Band abgebunden/gelöst’ (ChS I/5, 2Rs.:69′). (4b) sul(i)=a sull=ūd=i=ž ‘Möget ihr das Band abbinden/lösen!’ (ChS I/5, 40Rs.:47′).13 (4c) sula(< i)=l sul=ud=o=kka(< o)=l ‘die Bande lösen sich nicht’ ..(ChS I/5, 80 i 22′, Beschwörung des ‘Nicht-wieder-Lösens’). (4d) hurr. sul=ud=umme ≈ akk. pa¢āru (Ug. tril. Sa-Vokabular v 19′).14

9

Vgl. de Martino–Giorgieri 2008:41. Zur Stelle s. Trémouille 2005:xix mit Anm. 2. 11 Analyse unklar und Kontext zerstört; s. Wilhelm 1991:164: ‘He shall not give!’ 12 Dazu s. Giorgieri 1998:80. 13 Die heth. Fassung dieser zweisprachigen Beschwörung ist eigentlich keine wörtliche Übersetzung des hurritischen Spruches, sondern vielmehr eine Paraphrase; es ist unklar, ob hurr. sul(l)=ud- hethitisch mit ar¶a tarna- ‘loslassen’ oder la- ‘lösen’ wiedergegeben wird (ChS I/5, 40Rs.:46′–47′). Vgl. auch Z. 40′ hurr. sul(i)=a=dil sūl=ud=i[b ‘wir haben ein Band entbunden/gelöst’ ≈ heth. Z. 39′–40′ … ar¶a lāuēn … ar¶a tarnumen. In diesem Zusammenhang sei auch die merkwürdige Form zu-lu-u-tu-u-e-en (sic nach Kollation!) in ChS I/5, 87 iii 11 erwähnt. 14 Vgl. André-Salvini–Salvini 1998:24. 10

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Aus diesen Belegen geht eindeutig hervor, daß die erweiterte Form sul(l)=ud- nicht ‘nicht-binden’, sondern ‘ab-binden, los-binden > lösen’ bedeutet, d. h. das Morphem -ud- funktioniert hier nicht mehr als grammatikalische Negation bei Verbalformen, sondern als Derivationssuffix, ähnlich wie etwa deutsch los-/ab- in los-/abbinden (gegenüber ‘binden’) oder englisch un- in unbind (gegenüber bind). Demzufolge haben sul(l)und sul(l)=ud- nicht dieselbe Bedeutung ‘lösen’, wie es früher in den hurritologischen Studien angenommen wurde, sondern verschiedene Bedeutungen, wobei sul(l)=ud- das Gegenteil von sul(l)- bedeutet. Diese Opposition zwischen sul(l)=ud- ‘abbinden, lösen’ und sul(l)- ‘binden’ findet eine Bestätigung nicht nur durch das abgeleitete Substantiv sul(l)i, wofür ich bereits eine Bedeutng ‘Band, Schnur’ angesetzt hatte (Giorgieri 1998:80, Anm. 27), sondern auch durch die folgenden Passagen, die eine Bedeutung ‘binden’ für die unerweiterte Wurzel sul(l)- liefern: (4e) up(=)?š=i=b izūz(i)=a Ke[šši … ] izūzi sūl=ož=a ‘Ke[šši] hat Emmer gemäht/geernt? […] den Emmer hat er (dann) gebunden/zu einem Bündel zusammengebunden’ (ChS I/6, 26 iv 3′f.).15 (4f ) zu-lu-ši-iq-qa-`um ia-pu-uš ‘(Seine Tochter fPN1 ist (noch) klein?, seine Tochter fPN2 ist Prostituierte. Zur Ehefrau? hat er/habe ich!? (sie) nicht gemacht … Und ich!? habe (sie) nicht gebunden’ (JEN 671:28).16

4.5. Was für die Wurzel sul(l)- beobachtet wurde, gilt auch für die fast gleichbedeutende Wurzel ¶emz- (mit Metathese ¶ezm-) ‘fesseln, (sich) gürten’, die auch im Substantiv ¶emzi ‘Fessel, Gürtel’ o. ä. vorliegt. Die durch das Suffix -ud- davon abgeleitete Form ¶emz=ud- bedeutet daher ‘entfesseln, losmachen’,17 wie es die folgenden Beispiele zeigen: (5)

15

¶emz-/¶ezm- ‘fesseln, (sich) gürten’ (¶ezm=umma, Nu.),18 ¶ezmi ‘Gürtel, Fessel’ vs. ¶emz=ud- ‘entfesseln, losmachen’.

Ich schlage vor, die Form up(=)?š- mit dem Substantiv ubi ‘Gerste’ (≈ ŠE, Bo. Bil.) zu verbinden und als ‘mähen, ernten’ zu deuten. 16 Zu diesem Text und dem Zusammenhang s. Wilhelm 1990:521 mit Anm. 82. Ich folge seiner Analyse der Form als sul=ož=i=kk=aw=m?, nicht aber seiner Übersetzung mit ‘ich habe nicht freigelassen(??)’, da sie noch einen Bedeutungsansatz ‘lösen’ für sul(l)- voraussetzt. Das auslautende -m deute ich als Konnektiv -m(a) ‘und’. Die akkadische Form i-pu-uš ist wohl fehlerhaft statt richtigen e-pu-uš. 17 So gegen Haas 1993:267, Anm. 48. 18 S. Wilhelm 1992b:663.

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(5a) ¶emza(< i)=l ¶emz=ud=o=kka(< i)=l ‘die Fesseln entfesseln sich nicht’ (ChS I/5, 80 i 22′, parallel zu 4c; Beschwörung des ‘Nichtwieder-Lösens’). (5b) ¶emz=at¶=ōž=i ‘(Allani) gürtete sich’ (≈ heth. nu=z=šan anda iš¶uzijait, KBo 32, 13 i 10 – ii 11).19

4.6. Es ist dagegen unklar, ob in der Form na¶¶=ud=o/uva (ChS I/1, 41 iii 39) das Morphem -ud- Derivationssuffix oder Negation ist. Der Satz kann zwar entweder mit ‘(der Herr) setzt (dich) nicht (auf den Thron) ein’ oder ‘(der Herr) setzt (dich) von dem Thron ab’ wiedergegeben werden.20 4.7. Wegner (2007:89) setzt eine Wurzelerweiterung -ut- (sic) an, deren Funktion unklar ist; ihrer Meinung nach handelt es sich dabei nicht um denselben Format wie die Negationspartikel -ud-.21 Nach Wegner gehören hierzu sowohl die oben besprochene Form sul(l)=ud-, wobei sie offensichtlich nicht meine Deutung akzeptiert (vgl. aber Wegner 2007:89, Anm. 81), als auch die Form keb/v=ud- ‘hinstellen’. Diese erweiterte Form der Wurzel ke(b/v)- ‘stellen, legen’ ist an der folgende Stelle der Bo. Bil. bezeugt: (6)

kev=ud=u ‘(ein Thron) war hingestellt’ (KBo 32, 13 i 2; heth. Übersetzung verloren).22

Wie auch Wilhelm (2001a:90, Anm. 2a) notiert, wäre die Form kev= ud=u am ehesten als Negativform zu deuten, doch wäre dies inhaltlich schwer mit dem folgenden Wortlaut zu verbinden. Tatsächlich hat diese Verbalform keine negative Bedeutung, so daß man Wegner zuzustimmen hat, daß ein gleichlautendes Suffix -ud- existiert, das jedoch keine 19 Die jüngst von Wilhelm 2001a:90 vorgeschlagene Übersetzung ‘die gegürtete (Allani)’, der die Verbalform ¶emz=at¶=ōž=i (3. Pers. Sg. Prät. antipassiv; so nach Wilhelm 1992a:130 u. 1992b:663; Neu 1996:249) offensichtlich als Adjektiv élargi auf -o=ži (d. h. ¶emz=at¶=ō=ži) interpretiert (vgl. auch Wegner 2007:209), scheint mir in Anbetracht der eindeutigen Verbalform ¶emz=at¶=o=m (ChS I/1, 41 vi 22′) fraglich zu sein (so richtig beobachtet schon von Wegner 2007:209). Allerdings sind Verbformen mit präteritalem Suffix -ož- in der Bo. Bil. sonst recht selten belegt (vgl. KBo 32, 19 i 6, 8 sāž=ul=ōž=a ‘er verköstigte’). 20 Eine weitere unklare Form mit der Negation -ud- ist wohl ar=o/ul=ud=a, die in ChS I/6, 10 i 17′ und KBo 32, 208+ iv 8′ in beschädigtem Kontext begegnet. 21 Diese Meinung vertritt bereits Haas 1993:267 mit Anm. 48. 22 Eine gleichlautende Form ki-wuú-tu begegnet auch im Text ChS I/6, 26 iv 8 (Kešše-Mythos) leider in unklarem Zusammenhang. Zur Form ki-pu-du-we-en (Mari 7+6, Z. 3′) vgl. unten (Beisp. No. 8a).

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Negativformen bildet. Ein weiterer Beleg dieser Wurzelerweiterung -ud-, deren exakte Funktion leider noch unbestimmbar bleibt, liegt in der folgenden Form aus dem Proämium der Bo. Bil. vor: (7)

mādi am(m)=ud=ōbade ‘unerreichbare/nie gesehene Weisheit’ (KBo 32, 11 i 6; heth. Übersetzung verloren).

Dabei handelt es sich um ein Epitheton der Göttin Iš¶ara, die als mādi am(m)=ud=ōbade beschrieben wird. Hier fehlt leider die hethitische Entsprechung, so daß die exakte Bedeutung des Ausdrucks schwierig zu bestimmen bleibt. Einem Vorschlag S. de Martinos folgend,23 kann man die Form am(m)=ud=ōbade entweder als ‘nie erreicht/unerreichbar’ (von amm- ‘erreichen’)24 oder als ‘nie gesehene’ (von am- ‘(an)sehen’)25 deuten. Dabei ist -o/ubade die Negation,26 während die Erweiterung -ud- anscheinend keine negative Bedeutung hat. Dasselbe gilt auch für die weiteren Formen, die sich in einem hurritischen Text aus Mari finden:27 (8a) ki-pu-du-we-en (wohl als kev=ud=o=v(a)=en zu analysieren) ‘es möge nicht hingestellt sein/werden?’ (Mari 7+6, Z. 3′); (8b) ¶ut=¶(i)=a šalġ=ud=o=kko ‘(die Götter? … ) hören auf (sein?) Gebet nicht’ (Mari 7+6, Z. 11′).28

In diesen Fällen sind die Morpheme -va- bzw. -kkV (intrans. -o=kko) die Negation, während -ud- kein Negationsmorphem darstellt. Für die 23 de Martino 2000:300, Anm. 22; vgl. auch de Martino–Giorgieri 2007a:259 u. de Martino–Giorgieri 2008:81. 24 de Martino–Giorgieri 2008:76f. 25 de Martino–Giorgieri 2008:72ff. 26 Zu dieser Negation vgl. zuletzt Röseler 2005:128f. mit Anm. 3. 27 Auf andere, in den hurritischen Texten aus Mari belegte Formen, die ein Morphem -ud- enthalten, welches wohl keine negative Bedeutung hat, hat Haas 1993:267, Anm. 48 hingewiesen. 28 Zu dieser Textstelle s. jetzt die überzeugende Analyse durch Haas–Wegner 2004:343f. und Wegner 2004:102. Zur Konstruktion šalġ- (intr.) + Essiv vgl. etwa die Wendung amōm(i)=a=b šalġ=ōl=a ‘die Botschaft/Anweisung hört!’ (KBo 32, 14 i 24; iv 7, 21; Rs.:33, 53 ≈ ¶atrieššar ištamaškiten, Bo. Bil.). Zur Analyse der Form šalġ=ōl=a als Imp. intrans. s. jetzt zu Recht Campbell 2008:280, Anm. 57. Seine Deutung der ganzen Stelle scheint mir aber in Anbetracht des anderen oben zitierten Beispieles der Konstruktion šalġ- (intr.) + Essiv fraglich. Zumal bedeutet hurr. amo/umi gegen Campbell 2008:280, Anm. 57 tatsächlich ‘Botschaft, Sendung, Anweisung’ (s. ausführlich de Martino–Giorgieri 2007a:256ff. u. 2008: 79f.), nicht ‘Verwalter’ (dieses vielmehr hurr. amo/uminni ≈ heth. manija¶¶aš iš¶a-! vgl. zuletzt de Martino–Giorgieri 2008:75 mit Literatur).

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Existenz zweier homonymer Morpheme -ud-,29 deren das eine als Negationspartikel fungiert, das andere dagegen nicht, kann man vielleicht eine Parallele bei der Existenz von zwei gleichlautenden Suffixen -kk- finden, deren das eine das Negationsmorphem bei Bewegungsverben, Zustandsverben und transitiv-nichtergativischen Verben ist,30 das andere dagegen bei Wörtern wie z. B. amo/umikkonni ‘Verwalter’ und aš¶ožikkonni ‘Opferherr’ auftritt, die keine negierten Formen sind. 4.8. Am Ende sei auf einige seltsame Wörter hingewiesen, die eine Wiederholung des Suffixes -ud- zeigen. Dabei handelt es sich um Unheilsbegriffe, die in den hurritischen Ritualtexten aus Boğazköy begegnen: (9)

eg=ud=ut=ki ‘Unreinheit/Verunreinigung’ (passim ChS I/1) und itk=ud=ut=ki (1x, ChS I/1, 10 ii 8; zu itk- ‘rein sein’). (10) kul=am=ud=ut=ki ‘Verleumdung’ (ChS I/1, 9 iv 15; zu kul‘sprechen’).

Die Deutung dieser Formen als Unheilsbegriffe verdanken wir V. Haas.31 Die von ihm gebotene morphologische Analyse dieser Wörter ist aber m. E. nicht völlig befriediegend. Haas meint, daß das erste -udeine Wurzelerweiterung unbekannter Funktion ist, während das zweite die Negation -ud- darstellt. Meiner Meinung nach dürfte dagegen das hier wiederholte Suffix -ud- in beiden Fällen das Negationsmorphem sein, das zweimal wohl mit verstärkender Funktion auftritt. 5. -ar5.1. Die iterativ-frequentative Bedeutung der Wurzelerweiterung -arist seit langem bekannt.32 Diese Funktion des Suffixes verdeutlicht am besten die folgende Stelle des Mittani-Briefes, die eine Opposition zwischen pašš=ar- und unerweitertem pašš- zeigt: (1)

29

ôlē=n šēn(a)=iffu=ž paššit¶e pašš=ar=ī=vā=en Mane=nna=man pašš=i=en ‘Mein Bruder möge (doch endlich) aufhören, andere

Beide Morpheme haben anscheinend u-Vokalismus, da sie überwiegend mit dem Zeichen Ú geschrieben werden. Zur Negation/Wurzelerweiterung mit negativer Bedeutung -ud- vgl. KBo 32, 14 iv 17 -ú-tu-; TB 11021Vs:5′ -ú-ten; ChS I/5, 40Rs.:47′ -ú-ti- (aber KBo 32, 14 i 29 -u-tu-!). Zur homonymen Wurzelerweiterung vgl. KBo 32, 13 i 2 u. ChS I/6, 26 iv 8 -wuú-tu. 30 Vgl. Giorgieri 2000:233. 31 Haas 1993:267. 32 Vgl. von Schuler 1961:21f.

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Gesandten zu schicken!33 Nur den Mane möge er schicken!’ (Mitt. iv 53f.).

In der Bo. Bil. wird hurr. -ar- durch heth. -ške/a- wiedergegeben: (2)

ijā=d šēdu=i=lija=ne=ž šid=ār=(i)=a nāl(i)=l(< n)e=ž ‘(ein Berg sagt:) “Warum verflucht mich der (von mir) fett gemachte Rehbock dauernd?!” ’ (KBo 32, 14 i 11 ≈ heth. appa ¶urzakizzi ii 11f., Bo. Bil.; parallel zu i–ii 53f.).34

5.2. Die Wurzelerweiterung -ar- begegnet dann im Rahmen der Wortbildung als Derivationssuffix überwiegend in Berufsbezeichnungen, die wohl von einer Verbalbasis auf -ar- mit dem Suffix -nni gebildet werden,35 wie die folgenden Beispiele es zeigen: (3a) urb=ar=i=nni ‘Schlachter’ (wörtl. ‘einer, der berufsmäßig etwas zu schlachten pflegt’, zu u(r)b/v- ‘schlachten’); (3b) fand=ar=i=nni ‘Koch’ (wörtl. ‘einer, der berufsmäßig etwas in die richtige Form zu bringen pflegt’, zu fand-/fend- ‘richtig sein/machen, in die richtige Form bringen’; ≈ heth. LÚMUÚALDIM, Bo. Bil.).

In solchen Formen bleibt daher die urspüngliche iterativ-frequentative Funktion des Suffixes -ar- noch erkennbar. 5.3. Einem anderen Muster folgt offfensichtlich die mit dem Suffix -ta/enni36 gebildete Berufsbezeichnung ¶až=ar=denni ‘Salberin’. Aus anderen Beispielen wie etwa abul=danni ‘Torwächter’ (zu akk. abullu ‘Tor’), en=dan (ein Königstitel, zu sum. en) oder šellin=danni ‘Verwalter, Hausbeauftragter’ (zu hurr. šelli ‘Haus’)37 geht hervor, daß das Wort ¶až=ar=denni eine denominale Bildung ist, die nicht direkt von der Basis ¶až=ar- ‘zu salben pflegen’, sondern von dem Nomen ¶āž=ar=i ‘(Fein-) Öl’ (≈ heth. Ì.DÙG.GA, Bo. Bil.) abgeleitet wird. Nun stellt sich aber die Frage nach der Deutung des Elements -ar- in dem Wort ¶āž=ar=i ‘(Fein-)Öl’ (mit den Varianten ¶āžra und ¶āžarri), das herkömmlicherweise als Nominalbildung auf -i von der durch das itera-

33

Wörtlich: ‘Mein Bruder möge einen anderen Gesandten nicht immer wieder schicken!’. 34 Vgl. etwa Neu 1990:228f. Eine ausführliche Analyse des komplexen Problems der Entsprechung zwischen hurr. -ar- und heth. -ške/a- würde den Rahmen dieses Beitrages sprengen und soll ggf. an anderer Stelle veröffentlicht werden. 35 S. Giorgieri 2000:211. 36 S. Giorgieri 2000:204. 37 S. Wegner 2001:444.

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tiv-frequentative Morphem -ar- erweiterten Verbalbasis ¶āž=ar- ‘zu salben pflegen’ interpretiert wird. 5.3.1. Es gibt im Hurritischen eine Reihe Nomina, die ein unklares Element -ar- enthalten. Einige davon können tatsächlich als deverbative Bildungen analysiert und bestimmt werden, wie z. B. šid=ar=ni ‘Fluch’ (zu šid- ‘verfluchen’) oder kapp=ar=ni (ein Gefäß, Behälter; zu kapp- ‘füllen’), die das iterativ-frequentatives Suffix -ar- enthalten. In anderen Fällen fehlt dagegen eine sichere Verbalbasis, wie etwa bei pedari ‘Rind’ und pedar=ži ‘Stall’; niġ(a)ri ‘Mitgift’;38 avari (mit der Variante avali) und aviġari (Feldbezeichnungen), so daß eine exakte morphologische Analyse dieser Wörter unklar bleibt.39 Bei der Abstraktbildung ašta=kk(a)=ar=ži ‘Üppigkeit, weiblicher Reiz’ handelt es sich sogar um eine denominale Ableitung auf -ar=ži von dem Substantiv ašta=k(k)a ‘Dame’.40 5.3.2. In ihrer Grammatik I. Wegner unterscheidet zwischen der Wurzelerweiterung -ar-, der sie faktitive und iterative Bedeutung zuschreibt,41 und einem nominalen Suffix -ar- unbekannter Funktion, die sie in einigen Substantiven isoliert, die ich oben (§ 5.3.1) zitiert habe (z. B. ¶ažari, pedari, niġari, šidarni).42 Dagegen hatte ich in meinem Abriß

38

Während der Diskussion nach meinem Referat hat mich I. Yakubovič dankenswerterweise darauf hingewiesen, daß niġ(a)ri seiner Meinung nach ein indoarisches Lehnwort sein könnte. In einer darauf folgenden e-mail (28.10.2008) hat er den Sachverhalt folgendermaßen erklärt: “I connect it with Skt. ni-har- ‘schenken, belohnen’. The problem of this etymology is that the combination of the root har and the preverb ni is not found in the Vedas, but Mittannian is not precisely Vedic, and so it may contain some combinations typical of later Sanskrit (whether these innovations are independent I would not dare to say).” In Anbetracht der Tatsache, daß auch andere dem semantischen Feld des Geschenkaustausches zugehörige hurr. termini technici Entlehnungen aus dem Indo-arischen sind (waduranni ‘Brautpreis, Brautgabe’ ≈ akk. ter¶atu, und vielleicht maganni ‘Geschenk’; vgl. Giorgieri 2000:187, Anm. 46, 211, mit Literatur), ist diese Idee, nicht von der Hand zu weisen. Allerdings fehlt hier das Suffix -nni, das es bei anderen aus dem Indo-arischen entlehnten Wörtern sonst typisch ist (Giorgieri 2000:211). 39 Ein Suffix -ar- begegnet auch in unklaren Formen wie z. B. tad=ar=ašk=ae (daneben auch tad=ir=eški, zu tad- ‘lieben’) oder an=an=ar=eski ‘Freude?’ (zu an‘sich freuen/erfreuen lassen’); dazu s. Wilhelm 2004:103. 40 Vgl. dazu de Martino–Giorgieri 2007b:134ff. 41 Wegner 2007:88. Belege einer faktitiven Funktion von -ar- kenne ich bisher jedoch nicht. 42 Wegner 2007:53.

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der hurritischen Grammatik alle oben zitierten Formen (§ 5.3.1) der Wurzelerweiterung -ar- zugewiesen.43 Jetzt bin ich auch aber überzeugt, daß man dem Vorschlag Wegners folgend ein Morphem -ar- ansetzen dürfte, das zur Bildung von Nomina dient, oft in Suffixkonglomeraten (d. h. in -ar=ni, -ar=ži und vielleicht auch im Kollektiva bildenden Suffix -ardi, das daher als -ar=di zu analysieren wäre) begegnet und wohl von der iterativ-frequentativen Wurzelerweiterung -ar- zu trennen ist. Dieses Morphem würde ich demzufolge auch im Substantiv ¶āž=ar=i erkennen, das nicht von einer iterativ-frequentativen Verbalbasis ¶āž=ar-, sondern direkt von der Basiswurzel ¶āž- durch das Nominalsuffix -ar=i abgeleitet wird. Ob dieses Suffix der nominalen Wortbildung ursprünglich dasselbe wie iterativ-frequentatives -ar- war, kann man nicht mehr bestimmen. Anhang Verzeichnis der hurritischen Wuzelerweiterungen G = Giorgieri 2000; We = Wegner 2007; Wi = Wilhelm 2004. Fett-unterstrichen: in G, We und Wi als Wurzelerweiterung erkannt. Fett-kursiv: zumindest in zwei unter G, We, Wi als Wurzelerweiterung erkannt. *: mit dem Asteriskus beziechne ich diejenigen Morpheme, die m. E. nicht zu den Wurzelerweiterungen gehören. 1. -ad-/-(a)d-

Funktion: unbekannt; vgl. das Nominalsuffix -(a)de und siehe auch unten -t-/-d(z. B. in šir=ad- ‘besingen, (er)zählen’ < šir- ‘zählen?’, širi ‘Zahl’, Bo., Bo. Bil.) Literatur: Giorgieri 2000:200, Anm. 78; Richter 2005:36; Richter 2007:83f. mit Anm. 18; Wegner 2007:88.

2. -ag- (?)

Funktion: unbekannt (nur selten belegt und m. E. fraglich); vgl. -ig- und -o/ug-? Literatur: Prechel–Richter 2001:354, Anm. 113.

3. -a¶¶-/-aġ-

Funktion: unbekannt (vielleicht separativ: Bewegung von/ aus(?), so nach G und We); vgl. -iġ-, -oġ- und -uġ(z. B. in tal=a¶(¶)- ‘weg-/herausziehen, fortnehmen’; ‘(sich) reinigen’ ≈ heth. ar¶a pittenu-, parā ¶uittija-, parkunu- Bo. Bil. < tal‘weg-/herausziehen, fortnehmen’ ≈ heth. parā šallannaiBo. Bil.; tapš=aġ=i ‘Mundschenk’).

4. -al-

Funktion: unbekannt; vgl. -o/ul(l)(oft belegt: z. B. in itk=al=zi ‘Reinigung’ < itk- ‘rein sein’, Bo., an-

43

Giorgieri 2000:197. So auch Wilhelm 2004:101.

940

Limited-corpus Languages of the Ancient Near East dere Analyse bei Janowski–Wilhelm 1993:147 mit Anm. 49; Wilhelm 2004:104 u. Wegner 2007:59: itk=a=l=zi ‘Reinheit, purity’; ¶ež=al- ‘nakt sein’, Bo. Bil.; kab=al- ‘(Feld) plündern’, Qa¢na) Literatur: zuletzt Prechel–Richter 2001:361 mit Anm. 161; Richter 2005:36.

5. -am-

Funktion: faktitiv (Oft belegt: z. B. eman=am- ‘zehnfach machen’ < eman ‘zehn’).

6. -an-/-ann-1

Funktion: kausativ (Oft belegt: z. B. ar=ann- ‘(sich) geben lassen’ (Mitt.) < ar- ‘geben’) Literatur: zuletz Richter 2005:32, Anm. 26 (mit weiterer Literatur).

7. -an-2 (Wi)

Funktion: unbekannt (nicht aber kausativ! Meistens mit intransitiv flektierten Bewegungsverben) (z. B. in ke/il=an- ‘sich erheben’ ≈ heth. pargawan, Bo. Bil. < ke/il=i=ge/il- ‘erheben’ ≈ parknu-, Bo. Bil.; ¶ab=an- ≈ heth. pai-, Bo. Bil.; unklar ob hierzu zugehörig: ul=an- ‘fressen’, mit trans.-ergat. Endung! ≈ heth. adanna dai-, Bo. Bil.) Literatur: Giorgieri 2001a:126, Anm. 7; Richter 2005:29.

8. -and- (Wi)

Funktion: unbekannt (z. B. in pic=and(=išt)- ‘sich freuen’, Mitt. < pic(=ošt)- ‘sich freuen’, Mitt.).

9. -ang- (Wi)

Funktion: unbekannt (z. B. in f/pir=ang- ‘fliehen’ < fir- ‘lösen’; pūd=ang- ‘überführen’, Bo. Bil.) Literatur: Wilhelm 1992a:133; Wilhelm 2005:184.

10. -apš-

Funktion: unbekannt; vgl. -epš(z. B. in šin=apš- ‘wechseln’ < šina ‘zwei’; pur=apš=i ein Priester).

11. -ar-

Funktion: iterativ-frequentativ (auch habituativ? Aktionsart od. Aspekt?). Vgl. auch -ir- und -o/ur-? Siehe ausführlich unten § 5 Literatur: Giorgieri 1999:74, Anm. 50 (mit Literatur); Wegner 2003:342.

*12. -až(We, Wi)

Funktion: intensiv; gehört eher zu den grammatikalischen Verbalsuffixen? (z. B. in ¶až=až- ‘(er)hören’ < ¶až- ‘hören’).

13. -b/v-

Funktion: unbekannt (wohl nicht intransitivierend!); vgl. auch -m-? (z. B. in am- ‘(ver)brennen’ ∼ am=b- (dies. Bed.), ke- ‘stellen, legen’ ∼ ke=b/v- (dies. Bed.), na- ‘weiden’ ∼ na=v- (dies. Bed.)) Literatur: Giorgieri 1998:78f. (mit Literatur); Giorgieri 2001a: 137; Wilhelm 2001b:449 mit Anm. 2.

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14. -epš-

Funktion: unbekannt; vgl. auch -apš(z. B. in eġ=epš- ‘abschnüren’ ≈ heth. ar¶a wešurija-, Bo. Bil.).

15. -ib-

Funktion: unbekannt (selten belegt und sehr fraglich) Literatur: Prechel–Richter 2001:357.

16. -ig-

Funktion: unbekannt (selten belegt und sehr fraglich) Literatur: Prechel–Richter 2001:354, Anm. 113; Richter 2007:86.

17. -iġ- (-eġ-)

Funktion: unbekannt (vielleicht Bewegung nach drinnen?); vgl. auch -a¶¶-/-aġ-, -oġ- und -uġ(z. B. in pūz=iġ- ‘(ein)tauchen’ ≈ heth. anda šunija-, Bo. Bil.).

18. -il=an(We)

Funktion: unbekannt (nach Wegner 2007:89 nur in al=il=an=o=m ≈ heth. wešgawan dāiš, Bo. Bil.; vgl. -ill-?).

*19. -ill- (We)

Funktion: inchoativ-ingressiv (anscheinend nur in der Bo. Bil., wo mit heth. Supinum -wan + dai- wiedergegeben ist, nicht jedoch in Mitt.!); das Morphem gehört eher zu den grammatikalischen Verbalsuffixen Literatur: zu -ill- in der Bo. Bil. Neu 1996:104 (mit Literatur) u. Wegner 2007:130; zu -ill- im Mitt.-Br. Girbal 1992:179ff.; vgl. auch Giorgieri 2000:224, Anm. 155.

20. -in-

Funktion: unbekannt (selten belegt und sehr fraglich) (z. B. in ag=o/ug=in- ‘herbeibringen, tragen?’ < ag- ‘aufnehmen, tragen’; vielleicht auch in kir=en?=zi ‘Freilassung’ < kir‘los-, frelassen’ ≈ heth. parā tarna-, Bo. Bil.) Literatur: Prechel–Richter 2001:350ff., 354, 371; Giorgieri 2001a: 129, Anm. 19; Giorgieri 2002:81 mit Anm. 62.

21. -ir-

Funktion: unbekannt; selten belegt; vgl. -ar- und -o/ur-? (z. B. in maz=ir- ‘helfen’ < maz- dies. Bed.) Literatur: Giorgieri 1999:71ff.; Wegner 2007:89.

22. -iž-

Funktion: unbekannt (ingressiv?) (z. B. in par=iž- ‘gehen, sich auf den Weg machen’ ≈ heth. ija-, Bo. Bil. < par- ‘gehen lassen, leiten, einladen?’, so etwa in ChS I/1, 3Vs.:20, 21 par=i=a – nach Haas 1998:3 bedeutet hier par- ‘anlocken’, mit ažuġi ‘Duft der Opferspeisen’; vgl. auch par=d- im Rahmen der Anthroponomastik, dazu Richter 2007:111).

*23. -l- (?)

Funktion: unbekannt (der Ansatz dieser Wurzelerweiterung ist sehr fraglich!) (z. B. in kel(=)?l- ‘wohl sein/zufrieden machen’ < kel- ‘wohl sein/ zufrieden machen’) Literatur: Wegner apud Giorgieri 2001b:148, Anm. 63 (mit weiterer Literatur).

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*24. -m- (??)

Funktion: unbekannt (der Ansatz dieser Wurzelerweiterung ist sehr fraglich! Vielleicht handelt es sich dabei um dasselbe Element wie in tal(=)m/b- ‘groß sein/werden’; vgl. dazu Giorgieri 2001a:137f. und siehe oben -b/v-) (von E. Neu in sil(=)?m=an- ‘zerbrechen’ ≈ heth. ar¶a duwarnaiund sug(=)?m- ‘hereinkommen’ ≈ heth. anda ar-, Bo. Bil., isoliert) Literatur: vgl. zuletzt Neu 1996:426 bzw. 259; siehe aber Wilhelm 1992a:136.

25. -o/ug-

Funktion: unbekannt (z. B. in ag=o/ug=in- ‘herbeibringen, tragen?’ < ag- ‘aufnehmen, tragen’) Literatur: Prechel–Richter 2001:354, Anm. 113 (mit Literatur); Giorgieri 2001a:129, Anm. 19; Giorgieri 2002:81 mit Anm. 62.

26. -oġ-

Funktion: unbekannt; vgl. auch -a¶¶-/-aġ-, -iġ- und -uġ(z. B. in ul=o/uġ- ‘Koalition wechseln’ (Qa¢na) < ōli ‘ander’; ōl=ōġ- ‘nahe sein?’, Mitt.; irn=ōġ(=ož)- ‘äquivalisieren’, Mitt. < irn- ‘gleich(wertig)/ähnlich sein’) Literatur: Richter 2005:30.

*27. -ol- (We)

Funktion: intransitivierend-reflexiv; von Wegner 2007:88 als -o/ul- angegeben, von Giorgieri und Wilhelm dagegen als -olangesetzt und als Verbalsuffix betrachtet. Meiner Meinung nach gehört dieses Morphem eher zum Bereich der Verbalmorphologie; vgl. Wilhelm 1992a:137; Giorgieri 2000:224 (z. B. in ¶ic=ūġ=ol- ‘sich betrüben’ ∼ ¶ic=ūġ- ‘betrüben’, Mitt.; tiġ=an=ol- ‘sich zeigen’, Mitt.).

28. -o/ul(l)(G, Wi)

Funktion: unbekannt; von Wegner 2007:88 als -ol- angesetzt, besser aber als -o/ul(l)-; vielleicht Bezeichnung einer Richtung (vgl. heth. anda?) (oft belegt: z. B. fur=o/ull=i=nni ‘Opferschauer’ < fur- ‘sehen, schauen’; ag=o/ul- ‘(Metall) treiben’ ≈ heth. gulš-, Bo. Bil. < ag‘aufnehmen, tragen, heben’; amm=ol=i ‘Richtung, Ziel?’ (Qa¢na) < amm- ‘ankommen’; muž=ol- ‘in die richtige Form bringen’ < muž- ‘(ge)recht, richtig sein’ Literatur: Wilhelm 1992a:137 (s. v. -ol- mit früherer Literatur); Giorgieri 2000:196f. mit Anm. 67 (mit Literatur); de Martino– Giorgieri 2007a:251f.

29. -o/um-

Funktion: unbekannt (z. B. in am=o/um- ‘beaufsichtigen’ < am- ‘(an)schauen, (an)sehen’).

30. -on- (We)

Funktion: unbekannt (selten belegt) (z. B. in tad=on- ‘lieben’ < tād- ‘lieben’, Bo.) Literatur: Wegner 1990:301, 302, Anm. 10.

31. -o/ur(We, Wi)

Funktion: unbekannt; morphophonologisch bediente Nebenform zu -ar-?

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(z. B. in kul=o/ur- ‘sprechen’ < kul- dies. Bed.; ag=ur=ni ‘getriebene Verzierung’, Bo. Bil. < ag- ‘aufnehmen, tragen, heben’) Literatur: Giorgieri 1999:74f. mit Anm. 51; Giorgieri 2000:196, Anm. 65; zuletzt Wegner 2003:342 mit Anm. 10; de Martino– Giorgieri 2007a:251. 32. -š- (?)

Funktion: unbekannt; sehr fraglich und selten (z. B. in ¶ap(=)š=ar- ‘(die Auge auf etwas) unaufhörlich richten’ ≈ heth. zikk-, Bo. Bil. < ¶ab- (Bewegungsverb, in ¶ab=an- belegt; s. oben -an-2); vielleicht auch in up(=)?š- ‘mähen/ernten??’, ChS I/6, 26 iv 3, s. oben § 4 Beispiel 4e).

33. -t-/-d- (We)

Funktion: unbekannt; vielleicht eine morphophonologisch bedingte Nebenform zu -ad-? Vgl. auch das Nominalsuffix -ade? (z. B. in tan=d- ‘machen’ < tan- dies. Bed.; fut=t- ‘gebären’ < fud- dies. Bed.) Literatur: Wilhelm 1992a:136; Fincke 1998:47f.; Giorgieri 2000: 200, Anm. 78; Richter 2007:111, Anm. 131 (mit weiterer Literatur).

34. -ud-1 (G)

Funktion: drückt das Gegenteil der Basiswurzel aus (vgl. deutsch ‘ent-/los’, engl. ‘un-’) Siehe ausführlich unten § 4 Literatur: Giorgieri 1998:80; Giorgieri 2000:198.

35. -ud-2 (W1)

Funktion: unbekannt Siehe ausführlich unten § 4 Literatur: Giorgieri 2000:198, Anm. 73 (mit Literatur).

36. -ugar-

Funktion: detransitivierend? > reziprok, reflexiv?, ingressiv? (vgl. etwa akkad. -t-, ital. se/si) (Reziprok tād=ūgār- ‘einander lieben’ < tad- ‘lieben’; ašt=ugari ‘Gleichrangigkeit, gegenseitige Entsprechung’, Mitt.; reflexiv? fug=ugar- ‘sich erstrecken?’ ≈ heth. talugaeš, Bo. Bil.; ingressiv? ag=ugar- ‘(sich) aufmachen, in Bewegung setzen’, Mitt., dann lexikalisiert? in ag=ugar=umma epēšu ‘auslösen, freikauen’, Nu.) Literatur: Giorgieri 2004:321ff.; Richter 2005:37f.; Richter 2007:94, Anm. 68.

37. -uġ-

Funktion: unbekannt; vgl. auch -a¶¶-/-aġ-, -iġ- und -oġ(z. B. in ¶ic=ūġ- ‘betrüben’, Mitt.; ull=uġ- ‘feindlich sein?’, Mitt., und ‘wegnehmen/abwischen’, Bo. < ull- ‘zurückhalten, niederdrücken’) Literatur: Giorgieri 2001b:148; Richter 2005:30.

38. -up(p)(We, Wi)

Funktion: unbekannt (z. B. in kad=upp- ‘?’ < kad- ‘sprechen, sagen’; tān=upp- ‘?’ < tan- ‘machen’; pid=upp- ‘sich drehen, tanzen’ ≈ heth. we¶-, Bo. Bil. < pid- ‘wenden, zurückgeben’)

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Limited-corpus Languages of the Ancient Near East Literatur: Márquez Rowe 1996:283f. (zur Wurzel pid-, aber mit kaum überzeugender grammatikalischer Analyse der Form pid=upp=a aus der Bo. Bil.!).

39. -uš(š)- (We)

Funktion: unbekannt; vielleicht eher als -o/už- anzusetzen und wohl den Verbalsuffixen zuzuschreiben (jedoch nicht mit der Tempusmarkierung -ož- zu verwechseln!) (z. B. in urġ=upt?=o/už-, Mitt.) Literatur: Wegner 2007:89.

*40. -Všt- (We)

Funktion: unklar (nach Wegner hat das Suffix manchmal denominalisierenden Charakter), aber wohl im Bereich der Aspekt oder Aktionsart der Verben zu suchen. Gegen Wegner gehört wohl dieses Morphem nicht zu den Derivationssuffixen, sondern zu der Verbalmorphologie; s. Wilhelm 1992b:670: “Eine weitere grammatikalische Differenzierung der o-Formen erfolgt anscheinend durch die dann fälschlich so genannten Wurzelerweiterungen -Všt- und -ol-”; vgl. auch Giorgieri 2000:224 u. Wegner 2007:88f.

Literatur André-Salvini–Salvini 1998

Bybee 1985 Campbell 2008 de Martino 2000

de Martino–Giorgieri 2007a

de Martino–Giorgieri 2007b de Martino–Giorgieri 2008 Fincke 1998

André-Salvini, B.; Salvini, M. Un nouveau vocabulaire trilingue sumérien-akkadien-hourrite de Ras Shamra. Owen, D.; Wilhelm, G. (eds.). General Studies and Excavations at Nuzi 10/2 (SCCNH 9). Bethesda. Pp. 3–40. Bybee, J. L. Morphology. A Study of the Relation Between Meaning and Form. Amsterdam–Philadelphia. Campbell, D. Split Ergativity in Hurrian. ZA 98:262–294. de Martino, St. Il “Canto della liberazione”: composizione letteraria bilingue hurrico-ittita sulla distruzione di Ebla. PP 55:296–320. de Martino, S.; Giorgieri, M. Das Projekt Literatur zum hurritischen Lexikon. Groddek, D.; Zorman, M. (Hrsg.). Tabularia Hethaeorum. Hethitologische Beiträge Silvin Košak zum 65. Geburtstag. Wiesbaden. S. 247–262. de Martino, S.; Giorgieri, M. Hurritisch ašti ‘Ehefrau’. AoF 34 (Fs. I. Wegner):126–148. de Martino, S.; Giorgieri, M. Literatur zum Hurritischen Lexikon (LHL). Band 1/A. Firenze. Fincke, J. Beiträge zum Lexikon des Hurritischen von Nuzi. Teil 2. Owen, D.; Wilhelm, G. (eds.). General Studies and Excavations at Nuzi 10/2 (SCCNH 9). Bethesda. Pp. 41–48.

M. Giorgieri, Zu den sogenannten Wurzelerweiterungen… Giorgieri 1998

Giorgieri 1999 Giorgieri 2000 Giorgieri 2001a

Giorgieri 2001b

Giorgieri 2002 Giorgieri 2004

Girbal 1992 Haas 1993 Haas 1998 Haas–Wegner 2004

Janowski–Wilhelm 1993

Márquez Rowe 1996

Neu 1988

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Giorgieri, M. Die erste Beschwörung der 8. Tafel des Šalašu-Rituals. Owen, D.; Wilhelm, G. (eds.). General Studies and Excavations at Nuzi 10/2 (SCCNH 9). Bethesda. Pp. 87–94. Giorgieri, M. Zu den hurritischen Personennamenn in den Amarna-Briefen. SMEA 41:63–83. Giorgieri, M. Schizzo grammaticale della lingua hurrica. PP 55:171–277. Giorgieri, M. Hurritisch te-li-(i-)ip-pa / hethitisch nu- … maknut in der hurritisch-hethitischen Bilingue aus Boğazköy. Richter, Th.; Prechel, D.; Klinger, J. (Hrsg.). Kulturgeschichten. Altorientalistische Studien für Volkert Haas zum 65. Geburtstag. Saarbrücken. S. 125–138. Giorgieri, M. Die hurritische Fassung des UllikummiLieds und ihre hethitische Parallele. Wilhelm, G. (Hrsg.). Akten des IV. Internationalen Kongresses für Hethitologie (Würzburg, 4.–8. Oktober 1999) (StBoT 45). Wiesbaden. Pp. 134–155. Giorgieri, M. Hurritisch tōb/v- ‘beschwören’. SMEA 44: 67–82. Giorgieri, M. Syntaktische Bemerkungen zu hurr. tād= ugār- und akk. ra’āmu in den Tušratta-Briefen. Groddek, D.; Rößle, S. (Hrsg.). Šarnikzel. Hethitologische Studien zum Gedenken an Emil Orgetorix Forrer (19.02.1894– 10.01.1986) (DBH 10). Dresden. S. 321–330. Girbal, C. Das hurritische Antipassiv. SMEA 29:171–182. Haas, V. Hurritologische Miszellen. AoF 20:261–268. Haas, V. Die hurritischen Ritualtermini in hethitischem Kontext (ChS I/9). Roma. Haas, V.; Wegner, I. Das Gegenwortpaar ‘wahr’ und ‘falsch’ im Hurritischen. Groddek, D.; Rößle, S. (Hrsg.). Šarnikzel. Hethitologische Studien zum Gedenken an Emil Orgetorix Forrer (19.02.1894–10.01.1986) (DBH 10). Dresden. S. 339–344. Janowski, B.; Wilhelm, G. Der Bock, der die Sünden hinausträgt. Janowski, B.; Koch, K.; Wilhelm, G. (Hrsg.). Religionsgeschichtliche Beziehungen zwischen Kleinasien, Nordsyrien und dem Alten Testament (OBO 129). Fribourg. S. 109– 169. Márquez Rowe, I. The Interpretation of Hurrian pid=(u)wa in the Light of Hittite, Akkadian and Urartian Data. AuOr 14:283–284. Neu, E. Varia Hurritica. Sprachliche Beobachtungen an der hurritisch-hethitischen Bilingue aus Úattuša. Neu, E.; Rüster, C. (Hrsg.). Documentum Asiae Minoris Antiquae. Festschrift für Heinrich Otten zum 75. Geburtstag. Wiesbaden. S. 235–254.

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Neu 1990 Neu 1996

Prechel–Richter 2001

Richter 2005 Richter 2007 Röseler 2005

von Schuler 1961 van Soldt 1991 Trémouille 2005 Wegner 1990

Wegner 2001

Wegner 2003 Wegner 2004

Wegner 2007 Wilhelm 1990

Wilhelm 1991 Wilhelm 1992a

Wilhelm 1992b

Neu, E. Zum hurritischen Verbum. Or NS 59 (Gs. E. von Schuler):223–233. Neu, E. Das hurritische Epos der Freilassung I – Untersuchungen zu einem hurritisch-hethitischen Textensemble aus Úattuša (StBoT 32). Wiesbaden. Prechel, D.; Richter, T. Abrakadabra oder Althurritisch. Betrachtungen zu einigen altbabylonischen Beschwörungstexten. Richter, T.; Prechel, D.; Klinger, J. (Hrsg.). Kulturgeschichten. Altorientalistische Studien für Volkert Haas zum 65. Geburtstag. Saarbrücken. S. 333–372. Richter, T. Kleine Beträge zum Hurritischen Wörterbuch. AoF 32:23–44. Richter, T. Ergänzungen zum Hurritischen Wörterbuch. I. AoF 34 (Fs. I. Wegner):78–115. Röseler, I. Zu den hurritischen Begriffen firubat¶e und alubat¶e in Texten aus Nuzi. Owen, D.; Wilhelm, G. (eds.). General Studies and Excavations at Nuzi 11/1 (SCCNH 15). Bethesda. Pp. 127–132. von Schuler, E. Hurritische Nomina Actoris. RHA 19/68: 19–23. van Soldt, W. Studies on the Akkadian of Ugarit. Dating and Grammar (AOAT 40). Kevelaer–Neukirchen–Vluyn. Trémouille, M.-C. Texte verschiedenen Inhalts (ChS I/8). Roma. Wegner, I. Phonotaktischer n-Verlust in Jussivformen des Boğazköy-Hurritischen. Or NS 59 (Gs. E. von Schuler):298–305. Wegner, I. ‘Haus’ und ‘Hof ’ im Hurritischen. Richter, T.; Prechel, D.; Klinger, J. (Hrsg.). Kulturgeschichten. Altorientalistische Studien für Volkert Haas zum 65. Geburtstag. Saarbrücken. S. 441–447. Wegner, I. Zum Namen Udibšarri. AoF 30:341–344. Wegner, I. Überlegungen zur zeitlichen Einordnung und geographischen Herkunft des hurritischen MariBriefes 7+6. AoF 31:101–104. Wegner, I. Hurritisch. Eine Einführung (2., überarbeitete Auflage). Wiesbaden. Wilhelm, G. Marginalien zu Herodot Klio 199. Abush, T. et al. (Hrsg.). Lingering over the Words. Studies in Honor of W. L. Moran. Cambridge (MA). S. 505–524. Wilhelm, G. A Hurrian Letter from Tell-Brak. Iraq 53: 159–168. Wilhelm, G. Hurritische Lexicographie und Grammatik: Die hurritisch-hethitische Bilingue aus Boğazköy. Or NS 61:122–141. Wilhelm, G. Zum hurritischen Verbalsystem. Anschütz, S. R. (Hrsg.). Texte, Sätze, Wörter und Moneme (Fs. K. Heger). Heidelberg. S. 659–671.

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Wilhelm, G. Das hurritisch-hethitische “Lied der Freilassung”. TUAT Ergänzungslieferung. Gütersloh. S. 82–91. Wilhelm, G. Hurritisch naipti ‘Weidung’, ‘Weide’ oder eine bestimmte Art von Weide. Richter, T.; Prechel, D.; Klinger, J. (Hrsg.). Kulturgeschichten. Altorientalistische Studien für Volkert Haas zum 65. Geburtstag. Saarbrücken. S. 449–453. Wilhelm, G. Hurrian. Woodard, R. D. (Hrsg.). The Cambridge Encyclopedia of the World’s Ancient Languages. Cambridge. S. 95–118. Wilhelm, G. firadi ‘auswärtiger Gast’, firadoš¶e ‘Gästehaus’. Owen, D.; Wilhelm, G. (eds.). General Studies and Excavations at Nuzi 11/1 (SCCNH 15). Bethesda. S. 175– 184.

The Alignment of Hattian: An Active Language with an Ergative Base Petra M. Goedegebuure The Oriental Institute, Chicago

1. Introduction One of the limited corpus languages of the Ancient Near East is Hattian, the language of the non-Indo-European indigenous population of Central Anatolia of the 3rd and 2nd millennium BC. There is general consensus that the speakers of Hattian lived within the bend of the Kızıl Irmak river1 although how far their territory extended beyond that is still a matter of debate.2 Hattian is documented in cuneiform script on clay tablets stored in the archives of the Hittite empire. Compared to the ca. 30,000 tablets and tablet fragments written in Hittite, the 359 fragments in Hattian (see fig. 1)3 form indeed a highly restricted corpus. Despite attempts to find a genetic relationship with the Northwest Caucasian languages, Hattian must still be considered an isolate for practical purposes. The only way to truly access this language is therefore by means of the Hattian-Hittite bilinguals, but considering that only 15 of the 359 fragments are bilingual it is clear that there is not much material to help us understand the remaining monolingual Hattian documents and those Hittite documents with untranslated Hattian. 1

See for example Klinger (1996:182ff.) and Singer (1981:119–123). The Hattians are often referred to as the indigenous people of Anatolia, but what is meant is that they were already present before the arrival of the Anatolian Indo-Europeans (Kammenhuber 1969:429; Soysal 2004a:2, n. 3). 2 Kültepe/Kaneš (near modern Kayseri) is usually seen as the original and main power base of the speakers of Hittite. Soysal on the other hand assumes that Kültepe/Kaneš was part of the Hattian linguistic area. According to him, only around 1800–1750 BC the Hittites gained control of Kültepe with the conquests of Pit¶ana and Anitta, but before that period the Hittites were an integral and politically subordinate part of Hattian society (Soysal 2004a:6). 3 The counts in fig. 1 are based on Soysal 2004a:52–68, with dating of the texts following the online Konkordanz der hethitischen Keilschrifttafeln, Version 1.3 (http://www.hethport.uni-wuerzburg.de/hetkonk/).

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Fig. 1. Chronological distribution of Hattian texts, Hittite texts containing untranslated Hattian, and Hattian-Hittite bilingual texts

Given this rather desperate situation it is all the more astonishing that we still know so much about this language, thanks to the often monumental undertakings of scholars like Girbal, Klinger, Schuster, Soysal, and Taracha and the earlier grammatical studies of for example Laroche and Kammenhuber. However, since Hattian is the language of the cult during the Old Hittite period (ca. 1650–1450 BC),4 a deeper knowledge of Hattian is important for our understanding of early Hittite religion. A very important step towards that goal is Soysal’s monograph on the Hattian lexicon (Hattischer Wortschatz in hethitischer Textüberlieferung. Leiden etc., 1994). But with respect to verbal morphology and syntax much remains to be done. In this paper I will address the syntactic alignment of Hattian by providing a thorough analysis of certain elements in the prefix chain of the verb. Although I needed to restrict my study to the 3rd person singular prefixes, the results support most of Taracha’s views for the plural forms as defended in Taracha 1988, 1989, 1993, 1995 and 1998. In order to provide the background that is necessary for the main discussion presented in sections 4 (transitive clauses) and 5 (intransitive clauses), I will first address the function of the verbal prefix -¶- (section 2), followed by an introduction to typological language type and alignment in general and for Hattian (section 3). In section 6 I will present some 4

The influence of Hattian culture in the historical Hittite period is thoroughly investigated in Klinger 1996.

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evidence for the anti-passive in Hattian, thereby showing that this language has an ergative base, although it is not fully ergative in the way Taracha has described it. 2. Preliminary study: the verbal morpheme -¶as a marker of the allative According to Soysal (2004a:215–216) the verbal infix -¶- captures three different morphemes. As -¶1- it apparently appears as an assimilated form of the object marker -n- before the velars ¶- and k- (also see Girbal 1986:8f.),5 but, surprisingly, also before labials, dentals and sibilants. The two other morphemes -¶2- and -¶3- seem to be connected with morphemes with local value. The infix -¶2- is found after the local infix -ka(Soysal 2004a:216), whereas -¶3- might be an apocopated form of the dative-like infix -¶a2- (Soysal 2004a:216, 218). Schuster (2002:447) on the other hand opted for a unified treatment of -¶- as a marker for the goal or end point of an action, equating it with the Hittite 3rd person dative enclitic pronoun -ši ‘to him/her.’6 His claim was only based on limited evidence, but since his discovery is very important for the remainder of this article (see especially section 6), I will present additional material to support Schuster’s claim. I will begin with listing those verbal complexes with -¶- and its allomorph -k- that match a Hittite verb accompanied by the dative pronoun -ši (the Hattian verbal stem is underlined): 1. taš-te-¶-ka-zi()-a taš-te-¶-ka-zzī()-a

-šši-kan anda lē kittari -šši-kan anda lē ‘Let … not lie with him’

KUB 2, 2 + KUB 48, 1 ii 51/54 KUB 2, 2 + KUB 48, 1 ii 53/ 55–56

2. [t]u-¶-ta-šul tu-¶-za-š[ul]

-šši EGIR-an … tarnaš -šši EGIR-anda tarnaš ‘He released … after him’

KUB 28, 4obv.:17a/19b KUB 28, 4obv.:17a/19b–20b

The myth “The Moon fell from Heaven” clearly shows how -¶- may alternate with -k-. The phrase ā¶kunnu-fa Tāru in KUB 28, 4obv.:9a (also see ex. 6) appears as ākkunnu-fa Tā[ru] in obv. 16a in the same text. With Taracha (1989:262) I would not go as far as Girbal (1986:10), followed by Soysal (2004a:341, 348), and conclude that ān- assimilated to -k- by taking

5

Klinger (1994:31; 1996:630) treats -¶(a)- as the object marker proper. This is also implied by Taracha’s translations of -¶- as ‘ihm?’ (1988:63; 1989:262). 6

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the shape of a¶- or ak-,7 but with Schuster (2002:465) we should accept the reality of a possible assimilation of -¶- to -k-, at least before a velar. This allows us to bring KUB 28, 4obv.:19a into the equation with: 3. še-ttu-k-ka-aš8

-šši kattan tīēt ‘She stepped next to him’

KUB 28, 4obv.:19a/22b

In general the Hittite dative pronoun -ši does not refer to inanimate entities. Since animacy does not seem to play a role in Hattian grammar, I do not expect a similar restriction for the infix -¶-. And indeed we find -¶- in the absence of -ši in clauses where an inanimate local phrase can be adduced from the preceding context: 4. tē-ta-¶-šūl 5. ā(n)-¶-pa

-ašta anda tarneškiddu ‘May he release … into (it)’ daiš-ma-at-šan ‘She placed it at (it)’

KUB 2, 2 iii 51/549 KBo 37, 1 i 10/ii 9

In section 4 I will present some further arguments for treating the sequence (a-)an- as a unitary morpheme ān-/an- instead of as a sequence of separate morphemes a-/ā- and -n-, following the majority of scholars.10 I therefore take a form such as a-a¶-pa in KBo 37, 1 i 10 (ex. 5) as ā(n)-¶-pa. The syllabic nature of the script does not allow a sequence of three consonants (-VnC1C2V-), hence the spelling -VC1-C2V- (also see ex. 21 with *ān-p-ta- > āpta-, and fn. 59 with *an-t-¶a > at¶a-). An alternative explanation for the omission of -n- might simply be the full assimilation of -n-

7

Instead, I suggest that -n- only assimilates to a following consonant in a consonant cluster -nC1C2-, see below. 8 I prefer an analysis še-ttu-k-ka-aš as ‘?-tu-3ALL-on/with-come’ with the motion verb stem aš ‘come’ over še-tuk-aš (Soysal 2004a:709), with a verb tuk with unknown meaning, or še-tu-k-kaš (Schuster 2002:465), with a verb kaš with unknown meaning. For the equation of the Hattian imperative aš-a ‘come!’ with the Hittite imperative e¶u, see Haas 1970:184, and for the prefix še- see Soysal 2004a:239 (sub še3-). 9 The duplicate KBo 21, 110rev.:8′ has a 2nd person verbal complex tū-tašūl ‘You must release.’ Both texts also contain a 2nd person prohibitive aša¶=pi taš-tū-ta-šūl-a ‘You may not release evil’ (KUB 2, 2 iii 51–52/KBo 21, 110rev.:9′) = Hitt. KUB 2, 2 iii 55 idalu=ma=kan anda lē tarnāi ‘He may not release evil into (it).’ At this point it is unclear to me why the infix -¶- is absent with a 2nd person but present with the 3rd person. 10 See Kammenhuber 1962:22; 1969:513f.; Klinger 1994:30; 1996:627; Girbal 1986:6; 2000:369; Taracha 1988:62f.; 1989:265; 1995:354. But pace Soysal 2004a:189.

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to a consonant immediately followed by another consonant. Two other instances of this phenomenon, both with the verb kun ‘look (at),’ are: 6. ā(n)-¶-kunn-u-fa 7. fa-a(n)-¶-kun

au[(šta-an)] ‘He saw him’ a[uš]ta-at ‘She saw it’

KUB 28, 5obv.:21a/20b KUB 28, 6 i 12a/11b

The Hittite construction with the accusative object -an or -at is matched by a Hattian construction with -¶-. Verbs of seeing do not necessarily express the stimulus of the perception as direct object (or accusative object) as with English see and Hittite auš- ‘see,’ but may also use an oblique case for the stimulus. In English, for example, a verb like look may take a prepositional object at something.11 We also find this in Hittite where the verb šuwaya-, the equivalent of look at, usually takes an allative object12 instead of an accusative object. The use of -¶- to mark the stimulus may therefore not be taken as evidence for the alternative interpretation of -¶- as an object marker, rejected above. Instead, it supports the other uses of -¶- as a goal marker. I therefore translate the verb kun as ‘look (at)’ instead of ‘see.’ We also find -¶- in clauses with a full local noun phrase, that is, when the referent of the local expression is not discourse topical. The Hittite counterparts of course also contain a local noun phrase. At this point it is important to realize that Hattian tends to cross-reference arguments on the verb whether a full noun phrase is present or not. This method of referring is completely different from the Hittite system, in which entities are referred to by pronouns or nouns, or sometimes zero, but never marked on the verb with the exception of the subject. Just as the Hittite verb does not lose its verb ending when a subject noun phrase is present, Hattian does not shed its verbal prefixes in the presence of a full noun phrase with the same semantic or syntactic role. 8. ziš! Š. … fa-¶-zī-¶ert-a

11

INA ÚUR.SAGŠ. munnandu ‘they hide … at Mount Š.’

KUB 2, 2 + KUB 48, 1 ii 57, 60/61, iii 2 (similar iii 10/12)

Levin (1993:185ff.) distinguishes three major types of English verbs of perception: the see verbs like feel, hear, smell, taste, notice, the sight verbs like glimpse, perceive, overhear, scan, scent, watch and the peer verbs like gape, glance, goggle, listen, look, sniff. Only the verbs of the latter group are not used transitively: the stimulus is expressed as a prepositional phrase with at or as one of the locative prepositions. 12 See for example nu uliliya GIŠTI^R_-na šūwaya ‘look at the greenery (and) forest’ (KUB 29, 1 i 52, OH/NS).

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The pattern that emerges is that -¶- seems to be used to cross-reference a local expression on the verb, especially when the referent of the local expression is the goal or end point of the action. The majority of verbal complexes contains an additional local prefix, such as ka, ta and zi, which are the verbal counterparts of the preposition-like nominal prefixes ka, ta and zi. Not all referents that are the goal or end point of an action receive -¶marking. It seems that when the action ends on top of a referent, -¶- is absent. In case of the verb nifaš ‘sit’ the object on which someone sits down may be mentioned in the preceding lines, but it is not resumed in the prefix chain of the verb. A form *ta-¶-nifaš is not attested:13 9. ta-nifaš

-za […] ‘he sits down (on the throne)’

KUB 2, 2 ii 42/44

Another verb that is connected with an endpoint on top of something is the verb neš (or eš?) ‘place.’ In two bilingual instances an object is placed on the throne (kā-¶anfašuidd-un), but the throne is not cross-referenced on the verb by means of -¶-: 10. an-neš kā-¶anfašuidd-ūn

-šan dāiš GIŠDAG-ti ‘he puts … on the throne’

KUB 2, 2 iii 20/22 (similar iii 24/25)

Finally, there are a few cases where the Hittite verb is accompanied by the local adverb šer ‘(up)on, onto, over’ and a local expression in the same clause or in the preceding lines, but again each time the element -¶- is absent: 11. dKāšku! du-k-z[(ik)] 12. ga-ur(-)an-ntī-u 13. a(n)-š-ti14

13

-kan šer KI.LAM-ni maušta ‘he fell on the gate building’ PÚ-i šer artari ‘(it) stands over the spring’ -k[a]n šer kāri^ya_[t] ‘she covered … over (it)’

KUB 28, 4obv.:15a/17b (similar obv.:8a) KUB 28, 6obv.:10a/10b KUB 28, 6obv.:13a/13b

Although *ta-¶-nifaš is not attested, we do find forms that begin with ¶a(e. g., ¶a-nifaš-ū in KUB 28, 110rev.:9 and ¶ā-nifaš in KUB 28, 18obv., l. col. 8, rev., r. col. 6′. The alternation of locative/stative? ta- and motion? ¶a- (see Soysal 2004a:218) and the relationship between our infix -¶- and motion? -¶a- still require further study. 14 The context of aš-ti is KUB 28, 6obv.:12a–13a fa-a(n)-¶-kun-ø (CONJ-3S.AG3ALL-look-PST) Furušemu ta-zzi-a¶-du (ta-from-heaven-‘ABL’) ta-zū¶(-)a(n)-š-ti-ø (her-cloth-3S.AG-3PL.PAT-place-PST) ‘Furušemu looked at it (the apple tree in bloom). She put her heavenly clothes on (it)’ = Hitt. KUB 28, 6obv.:11b–13b a[uš]ta=at URUPÚ-naš dUTU-uš nu=k[a]n mišriw[an …] TÚG=SÚ šer kāri^ya_[t] ‘The sungoddess of Arinna noticed it. She covered her lumin[ous] clothes over (it) = she covered it with her lumin[ous] clothes’ (see CHD M 298a).

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Besides the goal of a motion onto and position on, the goal of motion into is also excluded from cross-reference with -¶-: 14. pē-fil … taš-tē-ta-nūw-a

15. u-da-nu 16. [t]a-nifaš 17. šū-fa URUÚattuš …

-kan … É-ri anda lē uizzi ‘let (him) not enter the house’ -kan … an[d]a pāiši ‘you will go inside’ -šan anda ēšzi ‘he sits down inside’ dāir-ma-at URUÚattuši … ‘they placed it in Úattuša’

KUB 2, 2 iii 40–41/43–44

KUB 2, 2 iii 57/58 KUB 2, 2 iii 53/56 KUB 2, 2 ii 40–41/43

In semantic theories a distinction is often made between a location as the goal or end point of an action and a recipient. In Functional Grammar the semantic function of recipient is defined as “the entity into whose possession something is transferred” (Dik 1997:121). This transferral is literal with a verb like ‘give to,’ but more abstract or metaphorical with English verbs like ‘wave to,’ ‘be grateful to’ and ‘apologize to’ (Dik 1997: 121–122). The distinction between a location as the goal of an action and a recipient seems to be maintained in Hattian. Whereas a location may be marked on the verb by means of -¶-, this marker is always absent with the verb stem yay- ‘give’ (for a list of its attested verbal complexes see Soysal 2004a:284): 18. yā(y)-e … 19. [tab]ar[na] katte yā[y-a] [tabarna katte y]āy-a

20. āšš-iya … tabarna kattē

n-aš-ši piweni ‘we will give them to him’ labarnai LUGAL-i [piya]n[du] LUGAL-i labarn[ai piyandu] ‘let them give to Labarna, king’ peiēr … l[(a)]ba[rnai] LUGAL-i ‘they gave … to Labarna, king’

KUB 2, 2 + KUB 48, 1 ii 47/50 KUB 2, 2 + KUB 48, 1 iii 5–6/9 KUB 2, 2 + KUB 48, 1 iii 11/13 KUB 2, 2 iii 27/28–29

As examples 18–20 show, recipients in Hittite may be expressed as -ši. In the following example we witness the same phenomenon whereby the recipient of a command finds expression in Hittite but not in Hattian: 21. ā(n)-p-ta-kā-fā¶-ø …

anda-ma-šši-ššan wātarna¶¶i ‘he orders to him’

KUB 2, 2 iii 34/37

To summarize, the verbal infix -¶- expresses the goal of an action or the stationary end point of the action, when the end point is near, by or at the goal, irrespective of the animacy of that goal. In other words, -¶- is an allative and adessive marker. When the action involves motion into (illative) or onto (sublative) a goal, we do not find -¶-. The semantics of

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-¶- are then clearly different from its alleged Hittite counterpart, the dative clitic pronoun -ši. Not only does -ši usually refer to animate entities, -ši may also express the other types of goals and the recipient of an action. Only when the referent is both discourse topical, animate and the allative goal of an action, we find -ši as a translation of -¶-:

allative goal other goals recipient

animate -¶ø ø

HATTIAN inanimate -¶ø ø

animate -ši -ši -ši

HITTITE inanimate ø ø ø

Fig. 2. Goal and recipient marking in Hattian and Hittite

3. From verbal prefixes to alignment: theoretical remarks and previous scholarship The analysis of the prefix chain of the verbal complex still constitutes a major problem in Hattian studies. Solving this problem is not merely a prerequisite for an enhanced understanding of Hattian texts, but it is also interesting from a theoretical linguistic point of view. Typological studies show a strong correlation between prefixing, verb-initial word order, head-marking, and stative-active alignment. As I will summarize below, Hattian is a prefixing, head-marking language with basic verb-initial word order. It might then also have stative-active, or, in the more recent terminology used in Donohue–Wichmann 2008, semantic alignment instead of nominative-accusative or ergative-absolutive alignment. As far as I am aware of, there is only consensus regarding the prefixing nature of Hattian and the basic VSO word order (Berman 1977:458–459; Klinger 1994:34).15 Klinger (1994:35, n. 56) already pointed at the typological correlation between prefixing and verb-initial word order. Nichols (1992) discovered the relationship between word order, marking type, and alignment. She has found the following correlates, among others: 1. “Verb-initial order and lack of any determinate or stated order favor head marking; verb medial and verb final order favor dependent marking” (Nichols 1992:113).

15

In Goedegebuure 2008:156–157, 176 I showed that transitive clauses prefer VSO word order but intransitive clauses SV word order. Kammenhuber (1962:18; 1969:543) claimed that word order in Hattian varies freely, and that the verb can take any position in the clause (1969:503, 543). This is only true if one does not distinguish between transitive and intransitive clauses.

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2. “The accusative alignment … is equally compatible with all head/ dependent types. The ergative alignment favors dependent-marking morphology … [t]he stative/active type … strongly prefer[s] head-marking morphology” (Nichols 1992:100–101).

In Goedegebuure 2008:157ff. I discussed the third typological parameter, marking type and concluded that Hattian is mainly head-marking. The most important syntactic relations, those of subject and object,16 are not marked on Hattian nouns. Instead, we find agreement markers on the verb. And although the dimensional relations may be marked on the nouns as prefixes, the verb is also marked for dimensional relations. This means that if we want to evaluate the claims made for ergative-absolutive alignment or nominative-accusative alignment, we need to understand how the syntactic relations are marked on the verb (see for example Girbal 1986:139; Taracha 1988:60; 1995:354). This is the core problem which underlies the debate regarding the alignment of Hattian. The starting point for any investigation of alignment is how the only argument of the intransitive verb is marked. In a nominative-accusative alignment this argument receives the same marking as the agentive-like argument in a transitive clause, as witnessed by the nom. sg. ending -š of the intransitive and transitive subjects in ex. 22 and 23, respectively: lē ui-zzi 22. idalu-š=a=kan UN-a-š É-r-i anda evil-NOM.S=QUOT=PTCL .man-NOM.S house-LOC in PROHIBITIVE come-3S.PRS ‘The evil man may not come into the house’ (KUB 2, 2 iii 43–44, NS, CTH 725). d 23. dā-š=ma=za Šulinkatte-š LU[GAL-u]-š UNUTEMEŠ take-3S.PRT=QUOT=REFL Šulinkatte-NOM.S ki[ng]-NOM.S tools ‘Lord Šulinkatte took the utensils’ (KUB 2, 2 iii 48, NS, CTH 725).

In an ergative-absolutive alignment the marking is different: this time objects and intransitive subjects are grouped together. The ergative language Hurrian has one case ending, the absolutive, for the object of a transitive clause and the intransitive subject, whereas the transitive subject receives a different, ergative, marking. The absolutive singular case ending is -ø, the ergative singular is -ž:

16

The object is only occasionally marked by means of the more general oblique marker -šu (Soysal 2004a:241, with references to older literature).

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24. nāli-ø … faban(i)-ne-ž mela¶¶-o-m17 deer-ABS.S mountain-RELATOR-ERG.S expel-TRANS-3S.PAT ‘The mountain expelled a deer (from within it)’ (KBo 32, 14 i 1–2, MS, CTH 789, ed. Campbell 2007:82) 25. nāli-ø deer-ABS.S

ōlvī-ne other-RELATOR

faban(i)-ne mountain-RELATOR

¶abān-a-b18 cross over-INTRCLASS MARKER

‘The deer crossed over to another mountain‘ (KBo 32, 14 i 2–3, MS, CTH 789, ed. Neu 1996:74)

Semantically aligned languages hold a position in between. The single argument of an intransitive clause may either take the marking otherwise attested with the transitive subject, or it may take the marking of the object. Although there is considerable cross-linguistic variation with respect to the factors that determine how the arguments of these monovalent predicates are expressed, two semantic parameters stand out: the semantic role of the argument of the predicate (agent versus patient) and the lexical aspect of the predicate (stative versus active, telic versus atelic). In Galela, a non-Austronesian language from North Halmahera in Eastern Indonesia,19 stativity governs the choice of the pronominal prefixes with intransitive verbs (Holton 2008). Active intransitive verbs take the agent marker that is also used for the agent of transitive verbs (exx. 26 and 27), while stative verbs take the patient pronominal prefix (exx. 28 and 29): 26. no-tagi 2S.AG-go ‘You are going.’

27. no-wi-doto 2S.AG.-3S.M.PAT-teach ‘You teach him.’

28. ni-kiolo 2S.PAT-asleep ‘You are asleep.’

29. wo-ni-doto 3S.AG.-2S.PAT-teach ‘He teaches you.’

But in Lakhota, a Sioux language, agentivity is the controlling factor (Mithun 1991). Mithun (1991:516) describes a prototypical agent as a participant which “performs, effects, instigates and controls” the state-ofaffairs denoted by the predicate. This explains why a non-stative verb like ‘fall’ takes the pronominal prefix that is also used for the patient of a

17

For the Hurrian verbal morpheme -m as a 3rd person sg. patient marker see Campbell 2007:81ff. 18 For the morpheme -b as a verbal class marker of the intransitive, without connection with person or number, see Campbell 2007:76ff. 19 The examples are taken from Holton 2008:261.

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transitive verb (exx. 30 and 31), whereas a stative verb like ‘dwell’ still takes the agentive marker (exx. 32 and 33):20 30. ma-híxpaye ‘I fell.’

31. ma-ktékte ‘He’ll kill me.’

32. wa-thí ‘I live, dwell.’

33. wa-ktékte ‘I’ll kill him.’

The distribution of the agent and patient markers in the three alignment types can be visualized as follows (figs. 3 and 4): transitive subject intransitive subject object

ergative system A P P

accusative system A A P

semantic system A — A P P

Fig. 3. The distribution of agent and patient markers in the three types of alignment transitive subj. intransitive subject object

ergative sys. Ergative

accusative sys.

semantic system —

Nominative

Agentive

Absolutive

Patientive Accusative

Fig. 4. The case system of the three types of alignment

With these schemas in mind, we can now assess previous claims about the alignment of Hattian. The field is divided between advocates of the nominative-accusative alignment (Kammenhuber 1969:502, 543: Hattian does not have an “allzu passivischen Verbalauffassung”; Klinger 1994: 36ff.; Girbal 1986:137–140; 2000:369; Soysal 2004a:37) and the ergative-absolutive alignment (Schuster 1974:106, fn. 35; Taracha 1988:60– 63; 1989:266; 1993:292–293; 1995:354; 1998:15f.). Kammenhuber, Klinger and Taracha have provided most philological support for their respective claims. Kammenhuber (1962:22) and Klinger (1994:30; 1996:627–628) argue that an- and sometimes ø are the 3rd person singular markers for the transitive subject. The prefix aš- is a 3rd person plural transitive subject marker. Klinger follows Forrer’s (1922: 237f.) suggestion that the singular direct object is marked by means of -¶(a)- (1994:31; 1996:630, not accepted in Kammenhuber 1969:525, and see my discussion above). The plural object is probably represented by -wa-/-b- (Klinger 1996:631). Kammenhuber and Klinger do not explicitly 20

The examples are taken from Mithun 1991:514–515.

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discuss the shape of intransitives with respect to person markers, but both consider either the bare verbal stem or the verbal stem preceded by local prefixes as the normal form for the intransitive singular (Klinger 1994:39, n. 81 and Kammenhuber 1969:50921). Klinger provides a few arguments against an ergative structure for Hattian,22 and more or less by default opts for an accusative alignment. The different markings for the transitive subject, intransitive subject and object however, do not point at an accusative alignment. Instead, languages with this type of marking are usually classified as tripartite. Taracha also argues that an- is the optional 3rd person singular transitive subject marker (1993:290; 1995:354) and ø the marker of the 3rd person singular intransitive subject (1988:62). The 3rd person singular object is unmarked (1988:63, 67). The two latter roles may also be optionally marked by means of te- (1989:265).23 For the plural agreement markers he claims that a/eš- marks both the intransitive subject and the object (1988:61–62; 1993:289f.). Since both the singular and the plural intransitive subject and object receive the same marking on the verb, Taracha concludes that Hattian has ergative alignment (followed by Goedegebuure 2008:143, fn. 15). Figure 5 tabulates the distribution of the verbal prefixes according to Kammenhuber, Klinger and Taracha.

21

Kammenhuber observes that intransitive verbs sometimes occur without any prefixes, whether personal or local. The only example to support this view is antiu (KUB 28, 6obv.:6′, 8′, 10′), which should now be analyzed as an-ti-u, ironically as one of the intransitive verbs marked with the agent prefix. From her description of the remaining intransitive verbs (1969:510f.) I infer that she assumed that the singular intransitive verbs were always unmarked for person. At the time plural intransitive verbs had not yet been detected. 22 Klinger (1996:629) argues that an ergative alignment requires congruency with the object and adduces the verbal complex nīpupē (KUB 2, 2 ii 46) with the 1st person plural subject marker -i/e-, hence congruency with the subject, as counter-evidence against an ergative alignment. First of all, in an ergative system the absolutive is unmarked and often realized as zero (Dixon 1979:72). The fact that we cannot see such a marker does not mean that there is only congruency with the subject. In addition, we should always reckon with an ergative split, especially regarding the person markers. In Dyirbal for example, the 1st and 2nd person pronouns receive nominative-accusative marking, whereas the 3rd person pronouns, proper names and common nouns follow the ergative pattern (Dixon 1979:87). Assuming that ergativity requires congruency with the object, we would first have to prove that Hattian does not have a similar ergative split before we could use the congruency argument. 23 For a rejection of this morpheme as a 3rd person singular marker see fn. 47.

P. M. Goedegebuure, The Alignment of Hattian…

transitive subj. intrans. subj. object alignment

Kammenhuber sg. pl. ø or ana/ešø ? ? ? ?

Klinger sg. pl. ø or ana/ešø ? -¶(a)-wa-/-btripartite system

961

Taracha sg. pl. ø or anø ø or tea/ešø or tea/ešergative system

Fig. 5. The distribution of the verbal prefixes according to Kammenhuber, Klinger and Taracha, and the alignments matching these distributions

To establish the alignment of Hattian we need to reassess how the intransitive subject is marked: does it pattern with the transitive subject or with the object, or both? Girbal (1986:6) initially states that an- only occurs in transitive clauses, but later observes that an- is also found with intransitives (2000:369). Taracha (1988:62f.; 1989:265) originally classified an- as a demonstrative in view of its irregular use with both transitives and intransitives, but later revoked his views (1993:290; 1995:354), concluding that an- only occurs with transitives and therefore functions as an ergative marker. Before addressing these contradicting views on the use of an- with intransitives, it needs to be sorted out how the object is marked on the verb. This is one of the topics in the next section. Due to limitations of space, I will restrict the discussion to the prefixes of the singular. 4. Marking of 3rd person singular transitive subject and singular object If a verb whose subject is a 3rd person singular belongs to the formal class of true transitives (“Rein-Transitiv,” Soysal 2004a:188), the verbal prefix chain starts with an-24 or its phonologically conditioned variant am-. According to Soysal (2004a:189), the agreement marker for the 3rd person singular subject on the verb is a-, leaving -n- and -m-25 as markers for the 3rd person singular object.26 Mostly however, an- is analyzed as a unitary morpheme for the 3rd person singular subject.27 24

“Die Verbalformen mit anlautendem Vn= (z. B. an=) geben in den transitivisch gebildeten Sätzen regelmäßig verbale Singularität mit direktem/betontem (singularem) Objekt wieder” (Soysal 2004a:188). 25 For my rejection of -¶- and -k- as allomorphs of -n-, see section 2. 26 Dunajevskaja (1962) also treats a-/ā- and -n- as distinct morphemes. She too classifies -n- as an object marker, but suggests a reflexive function for a-/ā(1962:281). 27 See Kammenhuber 1962:22; 1969:513f.; Klinger 1994:30; 1996:627; Girbal 1986:6; 2000:369; Taracha 1988:62f.; 1989:265; 1995:354.

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There are three major arguments to take an- and its alternant am- as a unitary morpheme marking the 3rd person singular subject only. First, if an- or -n- were cross-referencing the singular object, we would expect to find it in clauses with a singular object and a non-3rd person subject. The following example contains a 1st person plural subject and a 3rd person singular object: 34. pala and

aī-ø-ppu-ø 1PL.AG-3S.PAT-make-PST

[ai]-pparāiu-šū 1PL-priest-‘ACC’

pala and

ai-ø-šaīp-ø 1PL.AG-3S.PAT-do good-PST ‘We made him our priest and we treated him well’ (KBo 37, 9obv.:5′–6′, MS, CTH 728, ed. Soysal 2004b:82, 84).

The sequence *ai-n-pu would have become *aimpu,28 just as we find ampu < *an-pu, and many more verbs with initial p- that also show am- instead of an-.29 Similarly, the 1st person singular marker fa-, the 2nd person singular marker u(n)- and the optative forms of all persons are never attested in combination with an alleged object marker -n- or its allophone -m-.30 Secondly, an- also cross-references the subject in a few intransitive clauses. This again prevents a further analysis of an < *a=n. As I will discuss in section 5, the occurrence of an- in intransitive clauses is not a mistake that should be attributed to disappearing knowledge of Hattian (pace Soysal 2004a:188). Thirdly, as is typologically very common, 2nd person imperatives are usually not marked for the subject. Nothing however should prevent the expression of the object on the verb. In the Northwest Caucasian language Abkhaz, often adduced for comparison with Hattian, the 2nd per-

28 Soysal (2004a:490) analyzes i-im-pu-u and variant spellings as *ai=n= pu(=u) “we will do/make it”. Each form only occurs in festival texts as the object of a Hittite verb of speaking, either as a single word or combined with ¶u-u-u. A typical example is LÚ.MEŠ¶a-a-pi-eš ¶u-u-u i-im-pu[-u] ¶al-zi-iš-ša-an-z[i] ‘The ¶apimen call out ¶ū īmpū’ (KBo 25, 46obv.:9′, OH/MS, CTH 649). The context does not provide any clues as to the meaning of these two words, and it is therefore premature to even try to present a morphological analysis. 29 It is unclear whether a sequence *ai=n=šaip would have led to *ainšaip or *aiššaip. Assimilation of -nš- > -šš- is attested (Soysal 2004a:156) but is not obligatory (compare for example [… (-)]uú-ru-uš-ši-mu-ú in KUB 28, 64obv.:10 with uu-ru-un-ši-mu in KUB 28, 104 iii 9′ (Soysal 2004a:104f.)). 30 See for example the transitive verbal complexes fa-ø-¶¶ill-ū ‘1S.-3S.PATpour-FUT = I will pour it’ (KBo 37, 23 iii 18, MS), or taš-tū-ø-ta-šūl-a ‘NEG-OPT: 2S.-3S.PAT-in(to)-release-MOD = You may not let it (i. e., evil) inside’ (KUB 2, 2 iii 52, NS).

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son imperative of a transitive verb consists of the bare stem, without subject affix but with object affix: 35. y3-q’a-c’a it-prev.-do-imp. ‘(You-sing.) do it!’

In Hattian however, we never find -n-/-m- on the imperative.31 A typical example is 36. ø-miš-ā ¶apalkiy-an kālapupišēt 3S.PAT-take-MOD iron-‘GEN’ fire place? ‘Take the iron fire place?’ (KBo 37, 1 i 15 = Hitt. dā=ma=an=za URUDU?? k lKA.IZ[I…]× KBo 37, 1 ii 15, NS, CTH 726).

AN.BAR-aš

The verbal complex mišā only consists of the verbal stem miš ‘take’ and the modal ending -a, but is matched by the Hittite imperative dā and the enclitic singular object pronoun -an. The absence of an-/ān- might not conclusively prove that it only cross-references the subject and not also or only the object, but it certainly supports that claim.32 There is one phenomenon that might present counter-evidence to the claim that an-/ān- is a unitary morpheme. A number of transitive forms shows the sequence a-wa-an- or its phonologically conditioned variant a-wa-am- (Soysal 2004a:263). Soysal classifies the sequence a-wa- as a 3rd person marker a- followed by the plural marker -wa-, and -n-/-m- of course as an object marker. But taking into account the date of the texts in which this sequence occurs, it becomes obvious that we are dealing with a chronological distribution. Of the 19 attestations with a-wa- which can be analyzed as verbal complexes, 7 occur in OS and 8 in MS documents. So either the 3rd person plural marker awa- was facing extinction, or, and this is more likely, over time the morpheme awan- contracted to ān-, with phonetic long /a/. A few intransitive verb forms seem to contain only a-, but the three forms listed by Soysal (2004a:194) do not actually prove the existence of a separate prefix a-. The words a-ta-ka-a-a¶-za-aš (KUB 28, 80 ii 11) and a-ta-an-nu (KBo 37, 17:16′) occur without context. Although it is likely that these words are indeed verbal complexes, we cannot be sure that 31

This observation is based on the lexicon listed in Soysal 2004a:274–330. For a discussion of the formation of the imperative, see Soysal 2004a:195. 32 A clause like im-a=¶u šaīl kātti kurkupienna ‘im (imp. 2. s.) the standard? of the Lord, King’ (KUB 1, 17 ii 19–20) shows by analogy that miš-ā does not contain an assimilated -n-, otherwise we would have found *n-im-a.

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they are intransitive. Without context we might as well emend to a--ta-ka-a-a¶-za-aš (ān-ta-ka-¶-zaš) 33 ‘s/he z.-ed sthg down toward him/her/it’ (compare a-an-tág-ga-pu-ut = ān-ta-ga-put in KBo 37, 100:6′) and, assuming metathesis of the syllables, emend a-ta-an-nu to a-an-ta-nu (ān-ta-nu) ‘s/he brings sthg inside,’ also attested in KUB 28, 59 i 15′.34 The remaining form a-ta-ni-aa-aš (a-ta-nifaš) ‘he sits down’ (KUB 2, 2 iii 53) is simply not assured (see Soysal 2004a:393, and my fn. 57). Taking all of the above into account, we must conclude that an-/ān- is a unitary marker for the 3rd person singular subject. The function of an- as marker of the transitive subject is well established.35 Since an- is very often the only element preceding the verbal stem, this automatically implies that the 3rd person singular object is always unmarked on the verb, as has been observed before (Taracha 1988:63, 67), validating the use of the symbol ø, the zero-morpheme for the 3rd person singular object. In the glosses I will use the semantic roles proto-agent (AG) and proto-patient (PAT) for an-/ān- and ø, respectively. d Kata¶zifurē-šu 37. pala ān-ø-zar(a)š-ø=ma36 and 3S.AG-3S.PAT-call-PST=REFL Kata¶zifuri-‘ACC’ ‘And s/he called Katahzifuri’ (KBo 37, 1 i 7–8 = Hitt. nu=a=z kalliešta dKamrušepan ii 7, NS, CTH 726, ed. Schuster 2002:156f.). d 38. ām-ø-miš-ø zī[(lāt)] Kata¶zīfuri pala [ø-t]a-nifaš37-ø 3S.AG-3S.PAT-take-PST throne Kata¶zifuri and 3S.PAT-STAT?-sit-PST ‘Katahzifuri took the throne and sat down’ (KBo 37, 1 i 26–28 = Hitt. GIŠŠU.A-ki= ma=za=kan dKamrušepaš ēššat ‘Kamrušepa seated herself on the throne,’ KBo 37, 1 ii 26–27 with dupl. KBo 37, 2:6′, NS, CTH 726, ed. Schuster 2002:158f.).38

33 The forms ap-za-aš (or dup-za-aš??) (NS, KBo 37, 28 iv 15′) and du-up-za-aš (MS, KBo 37, 34 ii 6′), both with the object plural marker -(a)p-, show that the verb zaš is used transitively. 34 KUB 28, 59 i 15′: ān-ø-ta-nu-ø=ma (3S.AG-3PAT-into-go-PST=REFL) eš-kātta¶ […] ‘He brought the queens (= statues of the queens?) inside […]’ (ed. Taracha 1988:63, n. 23). Hattian verbal stems may be used both transitively and intransitively (Soysal 2004a:199). 35 It is unclear on what grounds Schuster (1974:120, 142) claimed that aneither marks the subject in intransitive clauses or the object in transitive clauses. Schuster’s view is similar to an earlier observation by Dunajevskaja. Dunajevskaja (1962:281) adduced KUB 28, 6obv.:10a (šāfat=ma ga-ur-an-ti-u) as an example of an intransitive verb with the marker -n-. She concludes that -n- denotes both the subject in intransitive clauses and the object in transitive clauses. 36 For the function of -ma see most recently Simon 2008. 37 Spelled as [t]a-ni-aa-áš! (Soysal 2004a:750).

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The transitive subject marker ān- is also attested with the plural object marker -fa-/-p- (Klinger 1996:631; Soysal 2004a:234f. (-p1-, and possibly -p2-)): 39. [(pal)]a ān-ta-p-(p)nu-ø39 pi-izzī fa-š¶a[(p)] and 3S.AG-in(to)-3PL.PAT-watch-PST into?-good40 PL-god ‘And he (Zilipuriu) looked benevolently at the gods (and (so) they gave abundance to Labarna, king)’ (KBo 21, 110obv.:9′, w. dupls. KUB 2, 2 iii 26 (ān-da-p-pu), Or. 90/1839 + Or. 90/1771 + Or. 91/113 i 17′ = Hitt. n=ašta DINGIR.MEŠ anda ū[škit]41 ‘He lo[oked] at the gods,’ KUB 48, 3:6′, w. dupls. KUB 48, 6:5′ and KUB 2, 2 iii 28, NS, CTH 725, ed. differently Schuster 1974:73 (“Darauf schauten die Götter hin(ein)”). 40. [pal(a and

ā(n)-p-ta-)]kā-fā¶-ø42 3S.AG-3PL.PAT-in(to)-on-place-PST

d

tū¶ul tuwa¶ši 4? pillar? ‘And he placed the four pillars in (the palace) for Šulinkatte, King: (“Let each one support the walls”)’ (KUB 2, 2 iii 34–35, with dupl. KBo 21, 110obv.:14′–15′ = Hitt. anda=ma=šši=ššan ātarna¶¶i43 dU.^GUR_ LUGAL-i 4-aš [š]ar¶uliuš ‘But

38

Šulinkatti Šulinkatti

[katt]ē king:DAT

Schuster proposed a different translation, assuming an omission in the Hattian text: ‘er nahm den Thron. die Göttin Kata¶ziwuri; darauf setzte sie sich.’ 39 The parsing of the verbal complex follows Klinger (1996:631, w. fn. 61) in recognizing the plural object marker -p-. The only objection against taking -pas a plural object marker instead of as part of the verbal stem, is that this marker usually precedes the local infixes. However, since the same phenomenon can be observed with the goal-marker -¶- (compare exx. 1–3, 8 with ex. 4), I am inclined to follow Klinger. 40 With Haas (1970:75 (n. 2), 167) and Schuster (1974:121) I take pizzi (pi-izzi) as an adverb ‘favorably, in günstiger Weise,’ which was not translated in the Hittite version. The same adverb, again without Hittite equivalent, can be observed in KUB 2, 2 iii 57 with nu ‘come, go’: u-da-nu pizzi ‘you go inside in a favorable way’ = Hitt. an[d]a p^ai_ši ‘you go inside’ (KUB 2, 2 iii 58). 41 The restoration of the verb proposed by Schuster (1974:73, 117, 120) as u[šker] depends on his analysis of an- as a singular object marker and DINGIR.MEŠ/ fa-š¶ap as the plural subject. 42 Whenever an- occurs with the plural morpheme p, the n is elided. This should not be taken as evidence for a 3rd person marker a-, because each time the plural morpheme -p- is followed by another consonant. The syllabic nature of the script does not allow a sequence of three consonants (-npC-), hence the spelling ap-CV. Alternatively, n is completely assimilated to p (see section 2). However, it is unclear to me why we never find an-fa-CV. 43 The duplicate ]-a¶-¶i (Or. 90/132 + Or. 90/292 (+) Or. 90/422 iii 1) now shows that the emendation of watarna¶¶i to watarna¶¶ir as proposed by Schuster 1974:131 is not required (Süel–Soysal 2007:13).

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he commands the four pillars for him, that is, for 37–38 (CTH 725).44

U.GUR,

king’ KUB 2, 2 iii

However, an- does not occur in all types of transitive clauses (Taracha 1989:266, Girbal 2000:369, Soysal 2004a:190ff., Klinger 1994:30). There is also a transitive-intransitive category (Soysal’s “Transitiv-Intransitiv” category) marked by tu/šu that never takes the 3rd person subject marker an-,45 even though this category is attested with 1st and 2nd person subject markers in the slot preceding tu/šu- (see Soysal 2004a:190). The morpheme tu/šu itself can therefore not be equated with a 3rd person marker (Girbal 2000:369). The transitive 3rd person singular subject for tu-verbs is thus a zero-morpheme. Ascertained examples of transitive tu-verbs with a 3rd person singular subject and singular object are:

44

My analysis of both the Hittite and Hattian clauses differs from all others (see, for example, Schuster 1974:72f.; Süel–Soysal 2007:13). By separating šar¶uliuš ‘pillars’ from the reported speech clause kuišš=a=a=za kuttan pa¶šaru, the pillars become the direct object of atarna¶¶- ‘to command.’ The distributive pronoun kuišša ‘each (one)’ now refers to the four pillars individually, and the message becomes that the pillars have to protect or support the walls of the building for which this myth and ritual are intended. As a result, the clause kuišša=a=za kuttan pa¶šaru matches te-kīp [p]ē-kaššil iš-kā-te¶. The word te-kīp is clearly a modal verb, and matches pa¶šaru (Soysal 2004a:784; Süel–Soysal 2007: 13). The word iš-kā-te¶ is not a verb (pace Soysal 2004a:501) but a noun and consists of the plural morpheme iš-, a nominal prefix ka- (ka1-, Soysal 2004a:225) and the root te¶ ‘build.’ As such it is the most likely candidate to be equated with kuttan (acc. sg.) ‘wall.’ This leaves pē-kašš-il as the equivalent of kuišša. Perhaps pē-kašš-il can be analyzed as the plural morpheme pi-, the core element kaš ‘head,’ and the masculine suffix -Vl. This would not give a perfect match with the Hittite distributive universal quantifier, but it would make sense in the context to have the capitals of the pillars support the building. Or perhaps the plural lexeme ‘head’ grammaticalized as a distributive along the cline ‘heads’ > ‘each head’ > ‘each one’. Without further attestations the solutions offered for pēkaššil remain highly conjectural. 45 Despite this claim there are a few words that seem to contain the sequence an-tu- (Soysal 2004a:370–371), but none of the proposed analyses is certain. For example, a-an-tu-uh-ha-ap-nu (KUB 28, 98 iii 12′) might represent an-tu-¶a-pnu (Soysal 2004a:370), but Haas (1970:187) splits off an-tu¶ ‘he took.’ The verbal complex an-tu-u¶-du-un-du (KUB 28, 4obv., l. col. 12) represents an-tu-¶-dundu “etwa *‘er starrte ständig wie gebannt zu ihr hin’ ” (Schuster 2002:466), or perhaps an-*ta!-*¶a-dundu ‘she throws a spell at him’ (Soysal 2004a:370). But since the verbal stem dundu only occurs here (and in duplicates), nothing precludes an-tu¶dundu with a verbal stem *tu¶dundu.

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41. [ø-t]ū-ø-miš-ø tabarna le-fūr 3S.AG-tū-3S.PAT-take-PST Tabarna his-land ‘Tabarna took his land’ (KBo 37, 49rev.:14′ = Hitt. nu=za labarnaš LUGAL-uš utn[(ē dāš)] ‘Labarna, king, took the land for himself,’ KBo 17, 22 iii 5′ (OS), w. dupl. KUB 28, 8 + KBo 37, 48rev., r. col. 4′, NS, CTH 736, ed. Klinger 2000:159; Girbal 2000:367f.). 42. [(ø-tu)]-ø-¶-ta-šul-ø tūmin 3S.AG-tu-3S.PAT-3ALL-in(to)-release-PST rain ‘He (the Stormgod) released rain after him’ (KUB 28, 4 i 10, with dupl. KUB 28, 3 + KUB 48, 61 i 11 = Hitt. nu=šši dU ¶ēun EGIR-an [tarnaš], KUB 28, 5 ii 12–13, CTH 727, ed. Schuster 2002:384f.).

These clauses again show that the singular object is not overtly marked, or, in other words, that its marker is a zero-morpheme. The sequence tu-un-pa-a-al in KUB 28, 72obv., l. col. 17′ cannot be adduced as evidence for an object marker -n- because the lack of context not only allows an analysis tu-n-pal (so Soysal 2004a:835) but also t-un-pal (OPT-2S-pal).46 Non-indicative 3rd person singular verbal complexes are marked by means of te-, irrespective of the transitivity of the verb.47 Kammenhuber 46

Compare t-un-pal with the 2nd person optative form t-un-tu-p-tell-a ‘OPT-2S-tu-3PL.PAT-tel-MOD = May you t. them’ (KBo 23, 97rev.:10′; Soysal 2004a:835). 47 Taracha (1989:264, 265) proposes that te- (or ti-) expresses the intransitive singular subject and the singular object in the optative. But a plural intransitive form like tešput ‘let them be’ (KUB 24, 14 iv, l. col. 7′) shows that we should not take te- as a unitary singular morpheme. If we also take tu(n)- (= t-u(n)-), the optative complex for the 2nd person subject singular into account, then tecould be analyzed as t + e/i with e/i marking the transitive and intransitive 3rd person singular subject (Soysal 2004a:214, sub *-e2- and 2004a:221, sub *-i3-), and teš- could be t + eš, with eš as the intransitive 3rd person plural subject. However, intransitive forms like tē-fa-pūlē ‘OPT-3PL.PAT-become = let them become’ (NS, KBo 37, 1 i 20) and [t]e-p-ka-¶¶il-a ‘OPT-3PL.PAT-up(on)-grow-MOD = let them grow/flourish’ (OS, KUB 28, 75 ii 18) show that the optative marker is te-, not t-. By implication, tu(n)- is contracted from *te-u(n)-. The uncontracted form is not attested, but if the following analyses are correct, we have both the contracted and uncontracted forms of the optative 1st person plural t-ai- < te-ai. The contracted form is found in ta-i-i¶-ku-na = t-ai-¶-kun-a (Soysal 2004a:736) ‘OPT-1PL-3ALL-look-MOD = let us/may we look at him’ (NS, KUB 28, 112:9′), but the uncontracted sequence is found in te-a-i-ša?-tu-u-wa = te-ai-š-tūp-a (Soysal 2004a:778) ‘OPT-1PL-3PL.PAT-tup-MOD = let us/may we t. them’ (NS, KUB 28, 82+ i 46′). The prohibitive prefix taš- (Soysal 2004a:248) provides further evidence for vowel contractions. This morpheme appears three times in the uncontracted shape teauš- in an old script text in teauš-te-ga-p-nu ‘NEG-OPT-up3PL.PAT-go = let them not go up’ (OS, KUB 28, 24obv.:5′, 6′, 10′. I choose a

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already noted that *te-an- > te-n- or t-an- is not attested (Kammenhuber 1969:507). As with the tu-forms, the transitive subject morpheme of the modal forms is ø (Klinger 1994:30, with n. 34), and so is, again, the singular object morpheme: 43. mal¶ip=[¶]u tē-ø-ø-ta-¶-^šu_l good=QUOT OPT-3S.AG48-3S.PAT-in(to)-3ALL-release ‘Let him release good things into it’ (KUB 2, 2 iii 51 = Hitt. n=ašta āššu anda tarnieškiddu, KUB 2, 2 iii 54, NS, CTH 725, ed. Schuster 1974:74).

Summarizing the results at this point, the 3rd person singular transitive subject is marked by means of ø if the verbal complex contains the affix tu- or in the non-indicative mode, otherwise the marker is an-/ān-.49 The 3rd person singular object is always expressed as a zero-morpheme. 5. Marking of 3rd person singular intransitive subject In the preceding section I discussed the shape and distribution of the verbal prefixes for the 3rd person singular transitive subject (Agent) (= an- for the class of purely transitive verbs, ø for the tu/šu-verbs and the modal forms) and the 3rd person singular object (Patient) (= ø). In order to establish the alignment of Hattian, we need to examine how the intransitive subject (S) is expressed. If Hattian has a nominative-accusative alignment, A and S should be treated the same. The subject marker for the intransitive tu/šu-verbs and the intransitive modal forms should be ø, and with the remainder of the intransitive verbs we should expect an(figure 6). An ergative-absolutive alignment on the other hand should lead to the grouping together of S and P, versus A. For all intransitive classes we should find ø as the marker for S (fig. 7). And finally, a seman-

verbal root nu ‘go’ over pnu- ‘look at’ in the hope that that makes more sense contextually in lines 5′–6′ fā[-š]¶aw-un (GEN/DAT) fā-ša[¶] alip teauš-te-ga-p-nu ‘Let the evil words not go up to the gods’). 48 Because the modal morpheme tu(n)- for the 2nd person may be analyzed as the optative marker t(e)- followed by the 2nd person marker u(n)-, the zero-morpheme for the 3rd person subject follows the morpheme te- as well. For this reason a form like an-te-eg-ga-¶u-li in KBo 21, 109 i 9′–11′ (GAL=ŠUNU ¶alzāi an-te-egga-¶u-li apē=ma=šši kattan ¶alzianzi te-eg-ga-¶u-li te-eg-ga te-eg-ga-¶u-li, translit. Klinger 1996:694; Schuster 1974:18, n. 50 reads dTegga¶uli) probably does not contain the optative morpheme te-. 49 The mismatch between āmmiš ‘she took’ in KBo 37, 1 i 30 and 33 and the Hittite translation dāir ‘they took,’ or even ‘they placed’ in KBo 37, 1 ii 31, 32 and 33 is discussed by Schuster (2002:250f.).

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tic alignment requires that the treatment of the subject does not depend on the transitivity of the verb, but either on the lexical semantics of the verb or the agentivity of the single argument. If agentivity is the guiding semantic principle for example, then agentive intransitives (SA) would pattern with the transitive subject (A), and the patientive intransitives (SP) would pattern with the object (P). Again, with the tu/šu verbs and the modal forms we only expect ø, but the other intransitives would either be marked by an- or by ø (fig. 8). indicative non-tu-verbs ananø

A =S P

indicative tu-verbs

all modal forms

ø ø ø

ø ø ø

Fig. 6. Predicted prefixes in the nominative-accusative alignment

A S =P

indicative non-tu-verbs anø ø

indicative tu-verbs

all modal forms

ø ø ø

ø ø ø

Fig. 7. Predicted prefixes in the ergative-absolutive alignment

A =SA SP =P

indicative non-tu-verbs ananø ø

indicative tu-verbs

all modal forms

ø ø ø ø

ø ø ø ø

Fig. 8. Predicted prefixes in the semantic alignment

This distribution shows that modal verbs and the tu- verbs have to be excluded from the discussion because transitives and intransitives are treated the same, irrespective of alignment: both verb classes always show ø-marking for the 3rd person singular subject. Compare exx. 44, 45, and 46 with ex. 43, and ex. 47 with exx. 41 and 42: 44. kātte te-ø-kunku¶¶ū-a king OPT-3S.PAT-live-MOD ‘May the king live!’ (KUB 28, 75 ii 14 = Hitt. [LU]GAL-uš ¶ušuanza ēštu, KBo 25, 112 ii 4′ (both OS, CTH 733), translit. Neu 1980:193). 45. pīp a-ša¶ taš-te-ø-¶-ka-zi[(-a)] stone DET?-evil NEG-OPT-3S.PAT-3S.ALL-up-be.put-MOD ‘May not the evil stone be placed on/in it (i. e., on/in the house of the king)’ (KBo 19, 162obv.:11 (MS), with dupl. KUB 2, 2 + KUB 48, 1 ii 51 and Or. 90/1067

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i 4′, also see obv.:12–13 = Hitt. idaluš=ma=šši=kan NA4 anda lē kittari, KUB 2, 2 + KUB 48, 1 ii 54, NS, CTH 725, ed. Schuster 1974:66 (differently)50). 46. ka-ša¶l taš-tē-ø-nū(w)-a pē-fil DET?-evil NEG-OPT-3S.PAT-come-MOD into-house ‘May evil not come into the house!’ (KUB 2, 2 iii 40 = Hitt. nu=a=k[á]n idalu[š=][a]=ká[n ]˻lē˼ uizzi, KUB 2, 2 iii 42, NS, CTH 725, ed. Schuster 1974: 72f.).51 d Kāšku! tu-ø-k-z[(ik)]-ø 47. kāp=¶u zi-a¶-du moon=QUOT down-heaven-‘ABL’ gate building52 tu-3S.PAT-upon-fall-PST ‘The moon fell down from heaven onto the gate building’ (KUB 28, 4 i 15a, with dupl. KUB 28, 5, l. col. 20a = Hitt. dSIN-aš=a=kan nepišaz maušta n=aš=kan šer KI.LAM-ni maušta, ii 16b–17b, NS, CTH 727, ed. Schuster 2002:388f. (differently)53).

The 3rd person subjects of the remaining intransitive verbs are not uniformly marked. Very often there is no marking, in other words, we have a zero-morpheme, see Girbal 1986:57, Taracha 1988:62, Soysal 2004a:190, 192. Once in a while however we find intransitive verbs with the transitive 3rd person singular subject marker an- (with Girbal 2000:369; Taracha 1988:62f.; 1989:265, contra Girbal 1986:6, 57 and Taracha 1995:354). According to Soysal (2004a:188),54 an-marked intransitives should be treated as scribal errors due to disappearing knowledge of Hattian. But instead of assuming that the scribes erroneously turned these verbs into transitive forms, we could also treat these forms as grammati50 According to Schuster (1974:97) pí-i-ip is an unmarked locative form of fae- ‘house’ (in Schuster’s transcription vae-), followed by a particle -p (in his transcription -b). However, the word for house is clearly fael (Soysal 2004a:320). For pīp as ‘stone,’ see Soysal 2004a:681 with references. 51 Schuster (1974:72) considers pí-e-ii-il = pi-fil ‘in-house’ > ‘in the house’ as part of this clause, although the Hittite version treats this constituent as part of the next clause. 52 Soysal (2004c:370) equates dkašku with Hittite ¶ilammar ‘gate building.’ 53 Schuster (2002:388f.) presents a different sentence parsing and translation (‘Der Mond ist hier vom strahlenden (Himmel) aus (herab)gefallen; er wandte sich nach der (Stadt) La¶za ((und) fiel hier (nieder)).’ Of the several points of divergence I cite here Schuster’s analysis of dKāšku! as a verb ankāšma ‘he fell down’ and of tukzik as ‘he turned.’ For further discussion and partial rejection of Schuster’s views see Soysal 2004c:370f. 54 “Ganz seltene Fälle in den Bilinguen, wo ein hattisches Prädikat auf an= ins Hethitische doch mit einer intransitivischen Entsprechung übertragen wird, sollten auf jeden Fall auf die allmählich nachlassende Überlieferungstradition der Hethiter zurückgeführt werden” (also see Soysal 2004b:89–90, with n. 16; 2004a:81–82, 137, 218).

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cal. With the exception of kitat (an=kitāt in KBo 37, 9obv.:9′) which, if it means ‘fight,’ might be transitive, the other intransitive verbs cannot take another argument besides the intransitive subject. As already discussed in section 4, this suggests that an- is not further segmentable: we do not expect subject and object marking (i. e., a(subj.)-n(obj.)) in intransitive verbs. The alternation of the zero-morpheme with an- is attested with the same verbs. Of course we should be aware of the fact that verbal stems may be used both transitively and intransitively (see fn. 34), but there still remain a few cases in which the morpheme an- occurs in an ascertained intransitive context. Compare for example the zero-marked intransitive form of nu ‘go’ in exx. 48, 49 and 52 with the an-marked forms in ex. 50 and 51, the latter in the same text as ex. 49: d Úapantali 48. ø-wa55-nū-ø=ppa 3S.PAT-?-go-ø=but . Úapantali ‘Hapantali went’ (KUB 28, 4 i 11a–12a = Hitt. pait=a[š dÚ(ap)]anta[(lia)š], ii 11b, with dupl. KUB 28, 5 ii 15b, NS, CTH 727, ed. Schuster 2002:386f.). d 49. ø-¶a-nū(-)a-ø=pa Úašammī[l] 3S.PAT-(in)to-go-PST=but . Úašammil ‘[And she called the strong blacksmith. …] Hasammil entered’ (KBo 37, 1 i 16–17 = Hitt. andan=ma=kan pait dÚa[ša]m[miliš], ii 17, NS, CTH 726, ed. Klinger 1996:640f., 662; Schuster 2002:158f.).

50. [(pūluku=p)]ē zi-a¶-du an-zaš-nu-u foliage=but down-heaven-‘ABL’ 3S.AG-?-go-PRS ‘The foliage reaches down from heaven’ (KBo 37, 49rev.:19′ (NS), with dupl. KUB 28, 8rev., l. col. 7a = Hitt. [(la¶¶urn)]uzianteš=a nepiš[za ua]nzi,56 KUB

55 According to Schuster (2002:454, 3.2.12), wa is a mistake for wii = bi-, a plurality marker (2002:456), but according to Soysal (2004a:192, 262) wameans ‘hierher?’ and is the opposite of pi- ‘dorthin?’ (2004a:236). 56 Klinger (2000:158) restores [(la¶¶urn)]uzianteš=a nepiš[ emia]nzi (for a slightly different restoration see CHD L–N 16a), to retain the structure of the preceding lines labarna[(š šurkiš=š)eš] arunaš tēga(n)=ššet emia[nzi] ‘The roots of labarna reach (lit. find) the sea-bed’ (KUB 28, 8 + KBo 37, 48rev., r. col. 9′–10′ (NS)). This would mean a departure from the Hattian version, which uses different verb stems (nu ‘go’ versus ša¶¶u ‘reach?’ (with Klinger (2000:162f.), isolating the verb ša¶, pace Soysal (2004a:306), who suggests an equation with tegan ‘earth’) and a Hattian “ablative” (zi- … -du) versus a Hittite acc. obj. nepiš. But since the tablet breaks off right after nepiš and the verb is not preserved, we are entitled to restore differently. Saying that the foliage or branches seem to come down from heaven expresses the same concept as branches reaching up to heaven: the difference is the point of view. If the Labarna is viewed as a gi-

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28, 8 + KBo 37, 48rev., r. col. 10′–11′, with dupl. KBo 17, 22 iii 12′ (OS) (CTH 736), ed. Klinger 2000:159). 51. ān-¶a-kka-nu-ø […-ni]faš-ø tabarna«n» kātte 3S.AG-(in)to-up(on)-go-PST […]sit-PST Tabarna king ‘(In Hattusa they built the houses of the king, Labarna.) He entered and sat [down], King Tabarna’ (KBo 37, 1 iv 4 (NS) = Hitt. anda=ma=aš=kan pait labarnaš LUGAL-uš, Or. 90/1693 ii 10′, see Soysal 2004a:359, 546, 755 (CTH 726), translit. Klinger 1996:646; ed. Schuster 2002:162).

The sequence of entering and sitting down of ex. 51 is found without the marker an- in: 52. ]× ø-ta-¶ā-kka-nu-ø ø-ta-nīfaš-ø 3S.PAT-STAT/INTR?-(in)to-up(on)-go-PST 3S.PAT-STAT/INTR?-sit-PST ‘S/he entered (and) sat down’ (KUB 28, 64obv.:4, NS, CTH 745).

As in the previous example, the verb nifaš ‘sit’ is usually attested with a zero-morpheme: mā li-tūmil-i palā lē-pi-pīzzil-i 53. lē-kusim mā ø-¶ā-nifaš-ø šāīl lord CONJ his-rain-? and his-PL-rainstorm-? his-throne CONJ3S.PAT(in)to-sit-PST ‘(As for) his throne, the lord (= the Stormgod) sat down on (it), together with (?) his rain and his storms’ (KUB 28, 18rev., r. col. 6′–8′, OS/MS, CTH 735). 54. dŠulinkatti katti ø-ktal-nifaš-ø57 Sulinkatti king 3S.PAT-STAT/INTR?-sit-PST ‘Sulinkatti, King, sat down (on it)’ (KUB 2, 2 iii 52–53 = Hitt. dŠulinkattiš=šan LUGAL-uš anda ēšzi, KUB 2, 2 iii 56, NS, CTH 725, ed. Schuster 1974:74).

But in the MS version of CTH 725 we find a form with an- whereas the younger duplicate (KUB 2, 2 ii 42) has the affix ta-: 55. tabar[(na)] kātte ān-nifaš-ø // ø-ta-nifaš-ø tabarna king 3S.AG-sit-PST // 3S.PAT-STAT/INTR?-sit-PST ‘(They placed the Great Throne in Úattuš. They placed it (so that)) Tabar[na], King, might take a seat’ (KBo 19, 162:6–7, with dupl. KUB 2, 2 ii 42 = Hitt. nu=za labarnaš LUGAL-kušl […], KUB 2, 2 ii 44, NS, CTH 725, ed. Schuster 1974:66).

gantic tree, then the viewpoint of mere mortals could be to stand under the tree, with its foliage coming down from as high as heaven. 57 Schuster (1974:144) reads q-^t_q-ni-aa-aš after collation. There is enough space for the sign A, and the lower side of the vertical is indeed visible. However, this sign might as well be erased, and the form a-ta-nifaš can therefore not be taken as assured.

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The same alternation of an intransitive58 form with ān- in the older manuscript and with ø in the younger one, occurs in the duplicates of the “Angry Priest” bilingual: 56. pala ān-¶a-u[i]t=pa // ø-¶ā-uit-ø=pa59 ūk and 3S.AG-(in)to-sour=but//3S.PAT-(in)to-sour-PST why ‘(Lady [Estan?] and [Lord] Taru speak as well: “[…] and we made him [ou]r priest, we treated him well, and we also assigned his land to him. (So) why does he pick a fight,) and why did he become sour?” ’ (KBo 37, 9obv.:10′ (MS), with dupl. KUB 28, 1 iv 25′ = Hitt. šammalešzi=ma=aš [ku]at,60 KUB 28, 1 iv 26′–27′, NS, CTH 728, ed. Soysal 2004b:80, 82).

Finally, the intransitive verbs of perception ¶ukuru ‘look’61 and kun ‘look at’ are attested both with and without an-/ān-: 57. an-ta-¶¶ukuru-ø Kata¶zifuri zi-a¶-šu 3S.AG-in(to)-look-PST Kata¶zifuri down-heaven-‘ABL’ ‘Kata¶ziwuri looked down from heaven (and [said] thus: “What is this?”)’ (KUB 28, 4obv., l. col. 13a–14a62 = Hitt. aušta=ma=kan dKamrušepaš nepišaz katta, KUB 28, 4obv., r. col. 15b, NS, CTH 727, ed. Schuster 2002:386f.). Kata¶zifuri 58. ø-ta-¶¶ūkuru-ø 3S.PAT-in(to)-look-PST Kata¶zifuri

zi-a¶-du pala(-)a(n)-¶-kūnn-u down-heaven-‘ABL’ and-3S.AG-3ALLlook-PRS ‘Kata¶ziwuri looked down from heaven and looks at them (= the clothes of Šaru?)’ (KBo 21, 82 i 26′–27′,63 MS, CTH 734, tsranslit. Del Monte 1979:113).

In section 2, sub ex. 6, I argued that the perceived entity of the verb kun ‘look at’ was not expressed by means of the patient marker ø, but by means of the goal marker -¶-. This verb may therefore be considered in-

58 On the assumption that an- only occurs in transitive clauses, Kammenhuber (1969:514) took ¶awit as transitive. The meaning of the corresponding Hittite verb šammaleš-/šammalia- was still unknown to her. 59 Compare the similar alternation of at-¶a[-a?-ú-it] (< *an-t-¶awit) in KBo 37, 74:4′ (MS) with ta-a-¶a-a-ú-e-et in KUB 28, 1 iv 35′ = Hitt. n=aš šammalliazi KUB 28, 1 iv 37′. 60 My translation of Hattian and restoration of the Hittite version differ from those of Soysal. The reasons are explained in Goedegebuure 2008:149, n. 32. 61 I follow Schuster’s initial suggestion for this verb as an intransitive verb of perception (2002:487). 62 This clause is also attested in KUB 28, 86 + KUB 48, 23 (NS, CTH 734) iii–v 4–5: ān-ta-¶¶ukuru-ø dKata¶zipūri zi-a¶-š[u] itā=¶u=pi ūk (translit. Del Monte 1979:111). 63 Also see KBo 37, 28 iv 10′–11′ (NS, CTH 734): ta-¶¶ūku[r]u-ø=pi dKata¶zifūri [zi-a¶-šu pala] a(n)-¶!-kunn-ū ū[k]=¶ū itā.

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transitive, as is also shown by those forms that occur with ta- instead of an-. The alternation of a(n)-¶-kun and ta-¶-kun is the same as found with ‘sit,’ an-nifaš and ta-nifaš, and ‘go,’ ān-¶a-ka-nu and ta-¶a-ka-nu: 59. ø-ta-¶-kūm-ø=pa=lī 3S.PAT-STAT/INTR?-3ALL-look-PST=but=PRON.3S64 ‘But/And s/he looked at him/it’ (KUB 28, 45 i 18′, NS, CTH 744).

The following text-citation was originally discarded as evidence for the use of an- with intransitive verbs (Taracha 1993:290; 1995:354), but can now be reinstated: 60. šāfat=ma ga-ur -a(n)-ntī-u apple-tree=REFL on-spring -3S.AG-stand-PRS The apple-tree stands over the spring. (KUB 28, 6obv., l. col. 10a = Hitt. GIŠÚAŠÚUR PÚ-i šer artari, KUB 28, 6obv., r. col. 10b, NS, CTH 728).

Soysal (2004a:188) assumes that an-marked intransitives should be treated as scribal errors due to disappearing knowledge of Hattian (also see Schuster 1974:52). We would therefore expect that the frequence of an- increases in later documents. This is not the case. We find both ānand ø-intransitives in middle script and new script documents, but there is a tendency to change ān- to ø in the later manuscripts, as illustrated by the duplicates in ex. 55 (ān-nifaš in the MS version, ta-nifaš in the NS version) and ex. 56 (ān-¶a-wit in the MS version, ¶ā-wit in the NS version). This actually implies that more intransitive verbs in NS manuscripts were originally marked by means of ān- in the older manuscripts, but were deemed inappropriate in the later manuscripts. But the most important argument against scribal failure is that the dual marking of intransitives is linguistically acceptable (figs. 3, 4 and 8). The agentive and patientive marking found with intransitives conclusively points at a semantic alignment of Hattian. As noted above sub ex. 25, the use of agentive subject markers and patient subject markers for intransitives in semantically aligned languages is subjected to certain rules. The distinction between agent and patient marking is often one between control and lack of control, or between activities and states, or telicity and atelicity. It seems that ø started to replace the agent marker an-, so in order to find the original semantic motivation for the use of these markers, we need to consider: a) all pre-NS examples of ø and an-, b) NS attestations of intransitively used an- be-

64

For a different parsing of the sequence -(u)m-pa-li-i see Soysal 2004a:732.

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cause this might represent an original situation, c) as well as variation of the subject markers within a single text, irrespective of its date. Attestations of only the zero-morpheme in NS texts have to be excluded because we might be dealing with an innovation that almost certainly has blurred the original semantic motivation for the use of either an- or ø. Based on these criteria the exx. 48, 52, 54, and 59 are excluded from the following discussion. The remainder of the examples is listed in fig. 9. The opposition activity-state as a motivation for the use of an- and ø can be excluded. Both markers are attested with activities (ø-¶a-nūa, ex. 49, ān-¶a-kka-nu, ex. 51) and possibly states (an-ta-¶¶ukuru, ex. 57, ta-¶¶ukuru, ex. 58). The same is true for telicity (compare telic ø-¶a-nūa, ex. 49 and ø-¶a-nifaš, ex. 53 with telic ān-¶a-kka-nu, ex. 51 and ān-¶a-uit, ex. 56). It is therefore safe to conclude that lexical aspect does not govern the choice of subject marker. The remaining factor is the semantics of the intransitive subject. According to Mithun (1991:516) a typical agent performs, effects, instigates or controls a situation or event. As the table shows, in almost each case the subject performs, effects or controls the action or state, yet both anand ø are used. The degree of instigation however seems to explain the use of these markers. In ex. 49 Úašammil, the strong blacksmith, is asked to enter. Úašammil necessarily controls the action of entering, which however, was not on his own account but on the instigation of others. This explains why the patientive marker ø is used. In ex. 56 on the other hand the gods are in the dark about why the unnamed king is angry. The circumstances of the king do not call for this reaction, so at least in the opinion of the gods the action of ‘becoming sour’ is only on the instigation of the king. Thus, it is appropriate to use the agentive marker an-. It is also likely that the king enters his palace on his own instigation (ex. 51, with an-), not because his subordinates command him. The remaining examples do not confirm nor contradict the suggestion that an- is used when the intransitive subject instigated the action or situation denoted by the verb. In most examples the lack of understanding of the co-text, the cultural setting, or both, prevents a satisfying explanation. Is ex. 53 part of a myth which describes how the deity Taru is perhaps asked to sit down on his throne? Is an-ta¶¶ukuru ‘she looked down’ in ex. 57 a voluntary action, on instigation of the agent, but ø-ta¶¶ukuru ‘she looked down’ in ex. 58 not? In the myth-like ex. 60, does the apple tree stand over the spring on its own instigation? Do we have to assume that the king in ex. 55 sits down on the throne without being

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asked? Without the context providing clues to the volition of the action or situation, it remains guesswork. LEXICAL ASPECT ACTIVITY

TELICITY

AGENTIVITY CONTROL

INSTIGATION

nu ‘go’ ex. 49 (ø) + + + ex. 50 (an-) + + +? ex. 51 (an-) + + + nifaš ‘sit’ ex. 53 (ø) + + + ex. 55 (an-) + + + ¶awit ‘become sour’ ex. 56 (an-) + + + ¶ukuru ‘look’ ex. 57 (an-) —? — + ex. 58 (ø) —? — + kun- ‘look at’ ex. 58 (an-) —? — + nti- ‘stand’ ex. 60 (an-) — — ? Fig. 9. Correlation of semantic factors with the intransitive subject markers an- and ø

— +? + ? +? + ? ? ? ?

6. The antipassive The fact that the Hattian intransitive singular verb may take either an- or ø-marking for its single argument conclusively characterizes Hattian as a semantically aligned language. The question whether Hattian is nominative-accusative or ergative-absolutive has therefore become somewhat irrelevant. However, semantically aligned languages may still have an accusative or ergative base. Since the majority of intransitive clauses takes the ø marker for the intransitive singular subject, which is identical to the singular object marker, Hattian has an ergative base. We might therefore hope to find the antipassive, the counterpart of the passive in nominative-accusative systems. The passive voice promotes the patient-object to patient-subject, and the agent-subject, if expressed at all, loses its subject marking and becomes simply an agent (with ‘by’-marking in English). Mirrorring this, the anti-passive voice promotes the agent-ergative to agent-absolutive, while the patient may be expressed in an oblique case, such as the dative or instrument (Polinsky 2008):

P. M. Goedegebuure, The Alignment of Hattian… ACCUSATIVE LANGUAGE

977

ERGATIVE LANGUAGE

agent patient patient agent active Nominative Accusative active Absolutive Ergative passive ø / Oblique Nominative anti-pass. ø / Oblique Absolutive Fig. 10. Case marking in the voices of accusative and ergative languages

What we are looking for in Hattian is a verb with two arguments but with the ø-morpheme instead of an-/ān- for the agent, and with again the ø-morpheme or the allative marker -¶- for the patient. There seems to be one example that shows exactly this pattern: 61. [ø-t]ū-ø-fa-ø65 tāufa tūpi ø-ta-¶-ku-ø-(w)at 3S-tu-3S.PAT-place-PST Fear Fright 3S.PAT-PASS/INTR?-3ALL-take-PST-? ‘Fear positioned him (the Moongod), Fright took him’ (KUB 28, 4 i 11a, NS, CTH 727, ed. Schuster 2002:386, 441–446 (translating differently)). 62. ēp-ta=an na¶šaraz ēp-ta=an weritema-š take-3S.PRT=him Fear take-3S.PRT=him Fright-NOM.S.C. ‘Fear seized him; Fright seized him (the Moongod)’ (KUB 28, 4 i 21b, NS, CTH 727, ed. Schuster 2002:387).

This example has both the morphological (Soysal 2004a:200) and word order features of an intransitive clause. The Hittite translation shows that this clause was understood as transitive, but the Hattian verb ku ‘grab, seize’ looks intransitive: it lacks the agent marker ān- and starts with tainstead. The affix ta- often occurs with verbs that are stative or passive-like (Soysal 2004a:194–195). The element which would normally be the syntactic object, the Moongod, is now expressed by means of the allative infix -¶-. A final clue to the intransitivity of this verbal complex is that the Hattian verb appears in sentence final position, and as I have shown elsewhere (Goedegebuure 2008:156), this position is highly correlated with intransitivity. One of the functions of the antipassive is to shift the focus of the clause away from the patient to the action denoted by the verb (Cooreman 1994:60; Palmer 1994:181–186). This is exactly what we see in the second clause of the Hittite translation (ex. 62). The initial position of the Hittite verb cannot 65 Written as ut-u-aa. Schuster (2002:386) suggest to emend to tu!-u-aa. He treats this word as a variant of tufi ‘fear’ (2002:445), whereas Klinger, still reading ud-u-aa, opts for a verb (1994:39, fn. 76). Combining the new reading with Klinger’s suggestion, we can actually make some sense of this line. The verbal complex tūfa may be resolved as a tu-transitive of the verb fa ‘place.’ The concept of fear placing someone in a fixed position could refer to the well-known fact that one can be frozen on the spot in fear.

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be explained as a faithful but unwarranted rendering of the word order of the Hattian clause, which has the verb in final position, but has to be caused by the pragmatics of the Hittite language itself. As observed by Luraghi (1990:94), one of the reasons to place a verb in initial position is for emphasis, in other words, for focusing the attention specifically on the verb. Thus, the verbal complex ta¶kuwat is without a doubt an antipassive, confirming that Hattian is a semantically aligned language with an ergative base. It is therefore not surprising that later duplicates of older texts tend to replace the agentive marker an- of intransitive verbs with the patientive zero-morpheme. Hattian became more ergative towards the New Hittite period.66 7. Summary The 3rd person singular subject of intransitive clauses in Hattian is usually expressed in the prefix chain of the verb by means of a zero-morpheme, formally similar to the 3rd person singular object verbal prefix. Once in a while however we find an-/ān-, the 3rd person singular transitive subject marker with intransitive verbs. This is not a scribal error, but a phenomenon that is the defining feature for semantically aligned (= active) languages. In ergative languages on the other hand, the single argument of an intransitive verb alsways receives ‘patient’ marking, irrespective of the semantics of the verb or the agentivity of the subject. The choice for the subject marker in intransitive clauses does not depend on the lexical aspect of the verb, but on the agentivity of the single argument. The meagre evidence allowed the preliminary conclusion that the notion of instigation governs this choice: the agent marker an- is found when the subject instigated the action or situation denoted by the verb, otherwise the patient marker ø is used. Despite the semantic alignment of Hattian, the one instance of an antipassive, together with the preference for zero-marking of the intransitive subject points at an ergative base for Hattian. The replacement of an-intransitives in MS manuscripts by means of ø-intransitives in NS duplicates shows that Hattian moved towards an even more ergative alignment. To conclude, although Hattian is truly a small corpus language, with less than 15 bilingual texts, there is nevertheless enough material to show that Hattian is an active, or semantically aligned language with an ergative base. 66

This development implies that Hattian remained alive until at least the end of the 14th century BC.

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References Berman 1977

Campbell 2007

Cooreman 1994

Del Monte 1979

Dik 1997

Dixon 1979 Donohue–Wichmann 2008 Dunajevskaja 1962

Forrer 1922 Girbal 1986 Girbal 2000 Goedegebuure 2008

Haas 1970 Holton 2008

Kammenhuber 1962 Kammenhuber 1969

Klinger 1994

Berman, H. A Contribution to the Study of the Hattic-Hittite Bilinguals (Review of Schuster 1974). OLZ 72: 453–460. Campbell, D. The Old Hurrian Verb. Archi, A.; Francia, R. (eds.). VI Congresso Internazionale di Ittitologia. Roma, 5–9 settembre 2005. Parte I (SMEA 49). Roma. Pp. 75–92. Cooreman, A. A Functional Typology of Antipassives. Fox, B. A.; Hopper, P. J. (eds.). Voice: Form and Function (TSL 2). Philadelphia. Pp. 49–88. Del Monte, G. F. Il mitologema di Kata¶ziwuri. Carruba, O. (ed.). Studia Mediterranea Piero Meriggi Dicata (Studia Mediterranea 1). Pavia. Pp. 109–120. Dik, S. C. The Theory of Functional Grammar. Part I. The Structure of the Clause. 2nd, revised edition (Functional Grammar Series 20). Berlin–New York. Dixon, R. M. W. Ergativity. Language 55:59–138. Donohue, M.; Wichmann, S. (eds.). The Typology of Semantic Alignment. Oxford. Dunajevskaja, I. Zur Klärung der Präfixe im Úattischen. Proceedings of the 25th International Congress of Orientalists. Moscow. Pp. 275–282. Forrer, E. Die Inschriften und Sprachen des Úatti-Reiches. ZDMG 76:174–269. Girbal, C. Beiträge zur Grammatik des Hattischen. Frankfurt am Main–Bern–New York. Girbal, C. Ein hattischer Paragraph. AoF 27:367–372. Goedegebuure, P. M. Central Anatolian Languages and Language Communities in the Colony Period: A LuwianHattian Symbiosis and the Independent Hittites. Dercksen, J. G. (ed.). Anatolia and the Jazira during the Old Assyrian Period (OAAS 3). Leiden. Pp. 137–180. Haas, V. Der Kult von Nerik. Ein Beitrag zur hethitischen Religionsgeschichte (StP 4). Rome. Holton, G. The Rise and Fall of Semantic Alignment in North Halmahera, Indonesia. Donohue, M.; Wichmann, S. (eds.). The Typology of Semantic Alignment. Oxford. Pp. 252–276. Kammenhuber, A. Hattische Studien. 1. RHA 20/70: 1–29. Kammenhuber, A. Das Hattische. Spuler, B. et al. (eds.). Altkleinasiatische Sprachen (HdO 2/1–2, 2). Leiden. Pp. 428–546, 584–588. Klinger, J. Hattisch und Sprachverwandtschaft. Hethitica 12:23–40.

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Klinger 1996 Klinger 2000

Levin 1993 Luraghi 1990 Mithun 1991 Neu 1980 Neu 1996

Nichols 1992 Palmer 1994 Polinsky 2008

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Klinger, J. Untersuchungen zur Rekonstruktion der hattischen Kultschicht (StBoT 37). Wiesbaden. Klinger, J. ‘So weit und breit wie das Meer …’—Das Meer in Texten hattischer Provenienz. Arbeitman, Y. L. (ed.). The Asia Minor Connexion. Studies on the Pre-Greek Languages in Memory of Charles Carter (Orbis Sup 13). Leuven–Paris. Pp. 151–172. Levin, B. English Verb Classes and Alternations. A Preliminary Investigation. Chicago. Luraghi, S. Old Hittite Sentence Structure. London–New York. Mithun, M. Active/Agentive Case Marking and Its Motivations. Language 67:510–546. Neu, E. Althethitische Ritualtexte in Umschrift (StBoT 25). Wiesbaden. Neu, E. Das Hurritische Epos der Freilassung, I. Untersuchungen zu einem hurritisch-hethitischen Textensemble aus Úattuša (StBoT 32). Wiesbaden. Nichols, J. Linguistic Diversity in Space and Time. Chicago. Palmer, F. R. Grammatical Roles and Relations. Cambridge. Polinsky, M. Antipassive Constructions. Haspelmath, M. et al. (eds.). The World Atlas of Language Structures Online. Munich: Max Planck Digital Library, chapter 108. Available online at http://wals.info/feature/108. Schuster, H.-S. Die Úattisch-hethitischen Bilinguen. I. Einleitung, Texte und Kommentar. Teil 1 (DMOA 17). Leiden. Schuster, H.-S. Die Úattisch-hethitischen Bilinguen. II. Textbearbeitungen. Teil 2–3 (DMOA 17/2). Leiden–Boston–Köln. Simon, Z. Zur Funktion des hattischen Suffixs -ma. Archi, A.; Francia, R. (eds.). VI Congresso Internazionale di Ittitologia. Roma, 5–9 settembre 2005 (SMEA 50). Roma. Pp. 705–712. Singer, I. Hittites and Hattians in Anatolia at the Beginning of the Second Millennium B. C. JIES 9:119–134. Soysal, O. Hattischer Wortschatz in hethitischer Textüberlieferung (HdO I/74). Leiden–Boston. Soysal, O. The Angry Priests in a Hattian-Hittite Narrative. JANER 4:75–98. Soysal, O. Review of Schuster 2002. BiOr 61:355–378. Süel, A.; Soysal, O. The Hattian-Hittite Foundation Rituals from Ortaköy (I). Fragments to CTH 725 “Rituel bilingue de consécration d’un temple”. Anatolica 33:1–22. Taracha, P. Zu den syntaktischen Verknüpfungen im Hattischen. AoF 15/1:59–68. Taracha, P. Ein Beitrag zur Erforschung des Hattischen. Review of Girbal 1986. OLZ 84/3:261–269.

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New Observations on Urartian Vocabulary Nikolay V. Harouthyounyan Institute of Oriental Studies of Armenia

1. The meaning of the verb ašd(u)The meaning of this verb up to now remains poorly discussed. Some proposals were suggested regarding the character of this word. G. Melikishvili’s comparison with Urart. ašt(u)- and the latter’s alleged correspondence to Akkadian šakānu of Rusa I’s Topuzawa inscription (Melikishvili 1960:324, 391) is doubtful. The same is true for the reading of the partly damaged áš-du-[…] of the same inscription as áš-gub(?), as well as the comparison of the latter with ērubu of the parallel Akkadian text (König 1957:91, 145, 175); for the latter it should be reminded that Urartian ašg(u)- means “to capture” (KUKN 437), whereas the Akkadian erēbu “eintreten” (AHw. 234ff.). Much more doubtful seems the treatment of ašd(u)as “wie” (Friedrich 1931:117, Anm. 5) or “for” (Diakonoff 1963:73, 87). But cf. other defective forms of several Urartian transitive verbs—harharuli (KUKN 392:7) and harharu (KUKN 173 vi 18), karubi (KUKN 241F:22), karuali (KUKN 241D:49) and karu (KUKN 520obv.:14), ’aldubi (KUKN 174B2:26), ’alduni (KUKN 77:10) and ’aldu (KUKN 393obv.:4), šuduštuni (KUKN 520obv.:13) and šuduštu (KUKN 520rev.:8), nuluštubi (KUKN 173 ii 42) and nuluštu (KUKN 478:7). The aforementioned attestations, together with the partially defective ašdu[bi] of Topuzawa inscription, make good sense for ašdu as a transitive verb. Let us refer to Urartian texts. 1. … a-ru-[bi LÚÙKUMEŠ] URUAr-di-ni-ni a-´u-ni áš-du-[bi UD]ME KUR-ni-[ú-ki] (KUKN 387, Urart. text, 23f.). ‘… I gave a feast (for) the people of Ardini, on (that) same day I entered my country.’ 2. … [EZEN a]-na LÚÙKUMEŠ ina ŠÀ URUMu-´a-´ir áš-[ku]-un [i]-na lìb-bi UDme ana KUR-ia e-ru-bu ana-ku … (KUKN 387, Akk. text, 22f.). ‘… I established a feast (for) the people in Mu´a´ir. (On) that day I entered into my country …’

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If we take into account the correspondence of Urart. arubi with Akk. aškun, Urart. URUArdini with Akk. URUMu´a´ir, Urart. ašdubi with Akk. ērubu anāku, Urart. KUR-ni-uki with Akk. KUR-ia, then it may be assumed that the Akkadian passage is an exact translation of the Urartian version. The previously suggested restoration of KUR-ni-[e-di] probably should be reread as KUR-ni-[ú-ki], as follows from the comparison of this passage with some identical passages of the Khorkhor inscription (KUKN 173 ii 55ff.; iii, 1; iii 23ff.). It should be noted that in the Urartian text of Topuzawa the Urartian word for the Akkadian 1 person sg. personal pronoun anāku is absent, since ašdubi normally means ērubu anāku, cf. also anāku … lū allik (Akk., line 10) = Urart. uladi (Urart., line 9), anāku … lū attallaka (Akk., lines 16f.) = uladi (Urart., line 17), ērubu anāku (Akk., line 23) = ašdubi (Urart., line 23) of the same text. Now let us discuss two contexts from Khorkhor inscription where the defective verb ašdu is used, and the possibilities to confirm the ašdu = erēbu correspondence. 1.

m

Ar-[gi]š-ti-i-še mMe-nu-a-[¶i]-ni-še a-li-e K[UR]Aš-[šur LÚA.S]IMEŠ-´i-e KUReba-ni[-ú]-ki áš-du LÚ[¶u]-ra-di-ni-e-li ú-e-li-du-ú-bi … KURKu-la-ši-ni KUR ba-ba-ni su-[ú-i-du-lu-bi] … [LÚA.SIMEŠ a-šú]-ú-bi ši-ú-bi KURe-ba-ni-úka-[ni] … (KUKN 173 ii 55–57; iii 1–7). ‘Argisti, son of Menua, says: the Assyrian army invaded my country. I gathered troops… up to the mount Kulašini I threw away, … I pursued the army, drove out of my country.’

2. … mAr-[g]i-iš-ti-še a-li-e É.GALMEŠ ši-du-ú-ú-li KURšú-ri-[…]-li[…]-i iš-pu-úi-ú-bi KURAš-šur LÚ¶u-ra-di-e KURe-[ba]-ni-ú-ki áš-du … LÚa-ú-[e]-ra-ši-li kid[a]-nu-bi KURAš-šur su-ú-i-[du-lu]-bi za-á[š-gu]-bi [ši-ú-bi] KURe-ba-ni-úka-n[i] (KUKN 173 iii 23–31). ‘Argisti says: I erected fortresses, strengthened the kingdom. The army of Assyria invaded my country … I sent auxiliary troops, threw Assyria out of my country.’

As we can see, while the Topuzawa inscription states the entrance of the army into the country—ašdubi KUR-niuki (KUR-ia ērubu anāku), the Khorkhor inscription mentions the invasion of Urartu by the Assyrian army—KURAššur LÚA.SIMEŠ-´ie KURebani-uki ašdu, KURAššur LÚ¶uradie KURebani-uki ašdu. That is why in Topuzawa the verb ašd(u)- is used in the 1st person sg. (ašdubi), while in Khorkhor the defective ašdu is used for the 3rd person sg. ašduni; the latter form appears in Rusa II’s Karmirblur and Ayanis inscriptions as well (see below 1 and 2).

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Let us see if the above-mentioned meaning “to enter, invade” could be supported by other Urartian texts. 1. … d¶al-di-ni É me-i a-i-ni-i zu-ma-gi-e áš-du-ú-ni a-li áš-du-li-e ši-na-amdi-ni mu-ri-e (KUKN 424:21f.). 2. … d¶al-di-ni É me-i a-i-ni-i zu-ma-gi-e áš-du-ú-ni a-li-e áš-du-li ni mu-ú-ri … (Ayanis I, p. 257, section III, 7f.). 3. … mRu-sa-a-še [a-li a-li-e d¶al-di]-ni ni … (KUKN 425:9f.).

É

áš-du-li ¶a-ab-ti-ni

II-am-di-

KIN(?)

ma-nu-

4. … mRu-sa-a-še a-li a-li-e d¶al-di-ni-e É áš-du-li a-ab-ti-ni-e KIN ma-nu-ni … (Ayanis I, p. 257, section IV, 5f.). 5. … mRu-sa-a-še a-li a-li-e d¶al-di-ni-e ni] … (KUKN 415:7).

É

áš-du-li-e ¶a-[ab-ti-ni

KIN

ma-nu-

6. … a-li d¶al-di-na-ni GIŠKÁ UDU e-ra-ši-ni ú-ú-li a-li LÚpa-la-gi ma-nu-li ášdu-li-ni d¶al-di-ni-e É … (KUKN 424:14). 7. … a-li d¶al-di-na-na GIŠKÁ UDU e-ra-ši-ni ú-ú-li a-li áš-du-li-ni d¶al-di-ni (Ayanis I, p. 257, section II, 8f.).

É

8. … a-li i-ni ú-li KURšú-ri-li áš-du-li-ni Ési-ir-¶a-ni-ni ma-ri-a-¶i-ni Ésu-si-nika-a-i … (Ayanis I, p. 257, section II, 10f.). 9. … [a-li d¶al-di-na-ni GIŠKÁ] UDU e-ra-ši-ni-e ú-ú-li [a-li li áš-du-li-ni d¶al-di-ni-e É] … (KUKN 270:7).

LÚ

pa-la-gi ma-nu-

10. … [a-li i-ni ú-li KURšú-ri-li10 ú-ú-la-li áš]-du-li-i-ni Ési-ri-¶a-ni-ni [su-si-ni..ka] … (KUKN 270:9).

Unfortunately, the above-mentioned texts do not lend themselves to full translation. Nonetheless, our suggestion seems to be true. Cf. the entrance of the cult personnel into different buildings of the temple, the entrance of one of them into the temple of Haldi (LÚpalagi ašdulini d¶aldini É), the entrance of the people of Urartu into the sir(i)¶ani-house near the susi-house (KURšurili ašdulini Ésirhanini mariahini Ésusini-ka). 2. The interpretation of the word erašini The word erašini, in combination with the preceding sumerogram UDU read as UDU e-ra-ši-ni-e (Melikishvili 1960:260; Salvini 2001:257, section II 1.9), mistakenly UDUe-ra-ši-ni-e or UDUe-ra-ši-ni-e (Harouthyounyan 2001:353) and even […]-´i-e-ra a-ši-ni-e (König 1957:111). The author suggests the possible correspondence of UDU erašini to the sumerographic UDU ŠE appearing in the Gövelek inscription of Rusa III in the passages dealing with animal sacrifices to be offered to different gods:

986

Limited-corpus Languages of the Ancient Near East m

Ru-sa-še a-li gu-ni e-el-zu-še te-ru-bi a-še AMEŠ ´u-i-ni-ni ni-ki-du-li d d UDU.MÁŠ.TUR ¶al-di-e ni-ip-si-du-li-ni GUD V UDU ¶al-di-e TAG UDU d d d ŠE UDU IM UDU ŠE U[DU] UTU UDU ŠE UDU ’A-ru-ba-ni-[e] UDU ŠE UDU DINGIRMEŠ UDU ŠE UDU dNIN UDU mRu-sa-i-ni-e DINGIR-gi (sic!— N. H.) GUDÁB mRu-sa-i-ni-e dNIN GUDÁB dA-ni-qu-gi III UDU DINGIRMEŠ ´u-i-ni-ni UDU ŠE UDU dAš-šur UDU ŠE UDU dNa-la-i-ni-e UDU ŠE UDU d Qu-e-ra … a-še AMEŠ ni-ki-du-li a-še AMEŠ e-ši-a-´i-ú-li UDU ŠE UDU d¶aldi-e (Salvini 2002:117, 122, I.2–3, 16–17).

The above-mentioned phrase UDU ŠE forces us to revise the traditional readings of similar phrases containing the sumerographic writing of animal-names such as GUD ŠE (instead of GUD-še), ÁB ŠE (ÁB-še), PIT.ÚAL.LU ŠE (PIT.ÚAL.LU-še) (KUKN 173 iii 43; 174B1:25; 407rev.:26 = Ayanis I, p. 254, section I, 1.19). As to the Urartian UDU erašini, presumably corresponding to UDU ŠE, it is attested only in three texts dealing with cultic activities. 1. … [a-li d¶al-di-na-ni GIŠKÁ] UDU e-ra-ši-ni-e ú-ú-li [a-li li áš-du-li-ni d¶al-di-ni-e É] … (KUKN 270:7).

LÚ

pa-la-gi ma-nu-

2. … a-li d¶al-di-na-ni GIŠKÁ UDU e-ra-ši-ni ú-ú-li a-li LÚpa-la-gi ma-nu-li ášdu-li-ni d¶al-di-ni-e É … (KUKN 424:14). 3. … a-li d¶al-di-na-na GIŠKÁ UDU e-ra-ši-ni ú-ú-li a-li áš-du-li-ni d¶al-di-ni É (Ayanis I, p. 257, section II, lines 8f.).

It is also remarkable that the word order in the phrase UDU e-ra-ši-ni is the same as that of the Sumeographic phrases GUD ŠE, GUDÁB ŠE, UDU ŠE and PIT.ÚAL.LU ŠE.

N. V. Harouthyounyan, New Observations on Urartian Vocabulary

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References Diakonoff 1963 Friedrich 1931 Harouthyounyan 2001

König 1957 Melikishvili 1960 Salvini 2001

Salvini–Çilingiroğlu 2001

Salvini 2002

Diakonoff, I. M. Urartian Letters and Documents. Moscow– Leningrad (Urartskie pis’ma i dokumenty). Friedrich, J. Beiträge zu Grammatik und Lexikon des Chaldischen. Caucasica 8:114–150. Harouthyounyan, N. V. Corpus of Urartian Cuneiform Inscriptions. Yerevan, 2001 (Korpus urartskih klinoobraznyh nadpisej). König, F. W. Handbuch der chaldischen Inschriften. II. Graz. Melikishvili, G. A. Urartian Cuneiform Inscriptions. Moscow (Urartskie klinopisnye nadpisi). Salvini, M. The Inscriptions of Ayanis (Rusahinili Eiduru-kai): Cuneiform and Hieroglyphic. Salvini, M.; Çilingiroğlu, A. (eds.) 2001. Pp. 251–319. Salvini, M.; Çilingiroğlu, A. Ayanis I. Ten Years’ Excavations at Rusa¶inili Eiduru-kai. 1989–1998 (Documenta Asiana VI). Roma. Salvini, M. Una stele di Rusa III Erimenahi dalla zona di Van. SMEA XLIV/1.

Hurritisch und syntaktische Ergativität Joost Hazenbos Amsterdam–München

1. Hurritisch als Ergativsprache Die Ergativität des Hurritischen ist schon lange gut bekannt. Beschrieben wurde sie z. B. Ende der 30er Jahre des letzten Jahrhunderts von E. Speiser,1 der wenige Jahre später mit seiner Monographie Introduction to Hurrian2 die erste ausführliche grammatikalische Beschreibung des Hurritischen veröffentlichen würde, eine Beschreibung, die auch nach mehr als sechs Jahrzehnten immer noch brauchbar ist. Speiser hatte erkannt, daß das Hurritische ein und denselben Kasus für das intransitive Subjekt und das direkte Objekt hatte und daneben über einen anderen Kasus für das transitive Subjekt verfügte. Die drei zentralen Satzfunktionen transitives Subjekt, intransitives Subjekt und direktes Objekt sind hier also anders verteilt als in den meisten indoeuropäischen Sprachen und in den semitischen Sprachen, die das transitive und intransitive Subjekt gleich markieren und für das direkte Objekt eine andere Kasusmarkierung haben. Die Sprachen der letzten Gruppe nennt man “Akkusativsprachen”, für Sprachen wie das Hurritische benutzt man den Terminus “Ergativsprachen”. Speiser kannte übrigens diesen Terminus schon. Vorsichtshalber zögerte er jedoch noch, ihn zu benutzen—er bevorzugte den Begriff “Agentiv”.3 Im Laufe der zweiten Hälfte des vorigen Jahrhunderts hat der Terminus “Ergativ” sich unter den Hurritologen definitiv durchgesetzt.4 Einige wenige Beispiele sollen nun das grammatikalische System des Hurritischen kurz erläutern. 1

Speiser 1939. Speiser 1941. 3 “I have chosen it (i. e. den Terminus “agentive”) in preference of the ‘ergative’ of the Caucasic grammars in order not to imply a definite parallelism before it has been demonstrated beyond all doubt” (Speiser 1941:108, Anm. 117). 4 Bush 1965 benutzt noch den Terminus “agentive”, aber s. z. B. Diakonoff 1957:167, 170; Kammenhuber 1968:64, 79, Anm. 5; Haas–Wilhelm 1969; Diakonoff 1971. 2

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(1) šēn(a)=iffu=š=(nn)a=ān ašte=ø šār=oš=a (MittBr III 1) Bruder=Poss1Sg=ErgSg=3SgAbs=Part Frau=Abs wünschen=PrätTr=Ag3Sg

‘Mein Bruder hat eine Frau gewünscht.’

In Satz (1) trägt das Substantiv ašte ‘Frau’ keine Kasusmarkierung und ist das direkte Objekt des transitiven Verbs ‘er hat gewünscht’. Dazu wäre Satz (2) zu vergleichen: (2) Mane=ø=nna=man paššīthi=v=ø nīri=ø (MittBr II 95) Mane=Abs=3SgAbs=Part Bote=Poss2Sg=Abs gut=Abs

‘Dein Bote Mane ist gut.’

In Satz (2) hat die Phrase ‘dein Bote Mane’ keine Kasusmarkierung. Hier geht es aber nicht wie bei dem unmarkierten ašte=ø in Satz (1) um ein direktes Objekt, sondern um das Subjekt eines intransitiven Satzes. (3) iye=mā=nīn tive=ø Mane=š šēn(a)=iffu=da kad=ill=ed=a (MittBr II 101–102) Rel=3SgAbs=Part Wort=Abs sagen=Mod=FutTr=Ag3Sg

Mane=ErgSg

Bruder=Poss1Sg=DirSg

‘Das Wort, das Mane meinem Bruder sagen wird.’

In Satz (3) ist Mane transitives Subjekt. Anders als in Satz (2) hat der Personenname ein Kassusuffix -š; dasselbe Suffix steht in Satz (1) bei šeniffuš. Die Sätze (1) bis (3) zeigen in aller Kürze, wie das Hurritische die drei zentralen Satzfunktionen markiert: Es verfügt über einen Kasus für das intransitive Subjekt und das direkte Objekt einerseits und einen anderen Kasus für das transitive Subjekt andererseits. Der unmarkierte Kasus für das intransitive Subjekt und das direkte Objekt wird Absolutiv, der markierte Kasus für das transitive Subjekt Ergativ genannt. 2. Syntaktische Ergativität Im Abschnitt 1 hat nur die Ergativität im Kasussystem oder morphologische Ergativität eine Rolle gespielt. Das Thema dieses Beitrages ist jedoch syntaktische Ergativität.5 Um diesen Begriff zu erklären ist ein kurzer Umweg über das Deutsche sinnvoll. Satz (4) ist ein grammatikalischer deutscher Satz: (4) Peter begrüßt Ingrid und geht weiter.

In diesem Satz ist Peter im ersten Teil transitives Subjekt, im zweiten Teil intransitives Subjekt. Da in der Akkusativsprache Deutsch transitives und 5

Allgemein dazu z. B. Dixon 1994:143–181.

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intransitives Subjekt gleich behandelt werden—beide haben ja den Kasus Nominativ—kann Peter in der zweiten Satzhälfte problemlos weggelassen werden. Nicht grammatikalisch ist im Deutschen dagegen Satz (5): (5)
Ingrid lächelt und Peter begrüßt.

Die zweite Hälfte dieses Satzes ist unvollständig, denn es fehlt ein direktes Objekt. Ingrid kann diese Rolle nicht innehaben, denn sie ist in der ersten Satzhälfte intransitives Subjekt, und intransitives Subjekt und direktes Objekt haben im Deutschen zwei unterschiedliche Kasus: Nominativ und Akkusativ. Will man nun diese beiden Satzhälften koordinieren, ohne daß man die gegrüßte Ingrid in der zweiten Hälfte durch ein Pronomen aufnimmt, kann man das tun, indem man die zweite Hälfte passivisch formuliert: (5a) Ingrid lächelt und wird von Peter begrüßt.

Satz (5a) ist völlig akzeptabel, denn Ingrid ist in beiden Phrasen intransitives Subjekt; diese zwei Formulierungen können nun problemlos miteinander koordiniert werden. In Ergativsprachen sind die Koordinierungsmöglichkeiten und -beschränkungen mutatis mutandis vergleichbar. Eine Sprache gilt als syntaktisch ergativisch, wenn sie in koordinierten Sätzen wie den deutschen Beispielsätzen (4) und (5) eine klare Trennung macht zwischen dem intransitiven Subjekt und dem direkten Objekt einerseits und dem transitiven Subjekt andererseits, oder, in anderen Worten, wenn der morphologische Unterschied zwischen den Kasus Absolutiv und Ergativ auch syntaktisch, in der Koordination zweier Sätze, fortgesetzt wird. Wie würde also ein ergativisches System die Sätze (4) und (5) behandeln? In einer syntaktisch ergativischen Sprache wäre eine Koordination wie in Satz (4) grammatikalisch nicht akzeptabel, da Peter in der ersten Satzhälfte als transitives Subjekt den Kasus Ergativ und in der zweiten Satzhälfte als intransitives Subjekt den Kasus Absolutiv hätte. Satz (5) dagegen wäre vollkommen akzeptabel; in beiden Satzhälften hätte Ingrid als intransitives Subjekt und direktes Objekt den Kasus Absolutiv.

992

Limited-corpus Languages of the Ancient Near East

3. Koordination im Hurritischen6 Um nun die Frage nach der syntaktischen Ergativität des Hurritischen gut untersuchen zu können, braucht man längere und gut erschlossene Textabschnitte. Im hurritischen Textbestand sind das der Mittani-Brief 7 und das zweisprachige, hurritisch-hethitische “Lied der Freilassung”. Innerhalb des Hurritischen als “limited corpus language” müssen wir also unser Korpus noch weiter einschränken und Beispiele in diesen beiden Texten suchen. Beispiel (6) stammt aus dem Mittani-Brief: (6) undo=mān šēn(a)=iffu=ve=n(na) ašte=ø ar=oš=av nun=Part Bruder=Poss1Sg=GenSg=3SgAbs Frau=Abs geben=PrätTr=Ag1Sg

itt=ošt=a=mān (12) šēn(a)=iffu=da (MittBr III 11–12) gehen=PrätIntr=Intr=Part Bruder=Poss1Sg=DirSg

‘Nun habe ich die Frau meines Bruders gegeben, und sie ist zu meinem Bruder gegangen.’

Dieser hurritische Satz ist mit dem deutschen Beispielsatz (5) vergleichbar. Er enthält eine Koordination mit der Partikel -mān von zwei Phrasen, in denen ein Element—das Wort ašte—einmal direktes Objekt und einmal intransitives Subjekt ist. War Satz (5) im Deutschen ungrammatikalisch, so ist eine solche Koordination in einer Ergativsprache wie dem Hurritischen problemlos möglich; das Objekt von arošav ‘ich habe gegeben’ steht im Absolutiv und das Subjekt von ittošta ‘ging’ auch. In Satz (6) ist die Syntax also ergativisch. Sehr interessant ist Satz (7), der aus dem “Lied der Freilassung” stammt: (7) [ā]i henni Teššub=ø henz-ād=u wenn jetzt Teššub=Abs bedrücktsein?=?

kīrenz(i)=a=mma (5′) [š]ār=i=b (KBo XXXII, 15 i 4′–5′8) Freilassung=Ess=Part fragen=Antip=3Sg/Pl

‘[We]nn jetzt Teššub bedrückt ist(?) und er Freilassung [f]ordert.’ (Hethitisch II 4′–5′ DI]M-aš šiššiyanit dammišhanza (5′) [parā tarnumar u]ewakki)

6

S. Hazenbos 2002:871, und rezent auch Campbell 2007:88–94, der erfreulicherweise mit anderen Beispielen und einer anderen Methode zu einem vergleichbaren Ergebnis kommt wie ich. Ich danke Dennis Campbell dafür, daß er mir seine Dissertation sehr schnell zugänglich gemacht hat. 7 Transliteration: Friedrich 1932:9–32. Übersetzung: Wilhelm 1992:63–71. 8 Neu 1996:288, 289, 300–304.

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Die erste Hälfte des Satzes ist nicht ganz klar, aber ist auf jeden Fall intransitiv. Die zweite Hälfte ist transitivisch zu übersetzen. Sie ist jedoch nicht konstruiert mit dem transitiven Subjekt im Ergativ und dem direkten Objekt im Absolutiv, sondern enthält eine alternative Konstruktion. Das Verbum steht im Antipassiv, und diese verbale Form hat einen Agens als Subjekt im Absolutiv; der Patiens ist kein obligatorischer Satzteil, aber kann in einem peripheren Kasus, im allgemeinen dem Essiv, erscheinen. Der Mittani-Brief bietet ein Beispiel, das beide Konstruktionsmöglichkeiten schön kontrastiert:9 (8) undo=mān šēn(a)=i[ff]e=ø=n(na) pašš=[oš=i nun=Part Bruder=Poss1Sg=Abs=3SgAbs schicken=PrätTr=Antip

Ma]ne=ø=nna=ān š[ē]n(a)=i[ffu]=š (108) pašš=oš=a (MittBr II 107–108) Mane=Abs=3SgAbs=Part Bruder=Poss1Sg=ErgSg schicken=PrätTr=Ag3Sg

‘Nun [hat] m[ei]n Bruder geschickt—den [Ma]ne hat m[ei]n B[ru]der geschickt!’

Die erste Hälfte von Beispiel (8) enthält einen patienslosen Satz mit einem antipassivischen Verb und dem Agens im Absolutiv, die zweite Hälfte dagegen einen transitiven Satz mit einer aktiven Verbalform, dem Agens im Ergativ und dem Patiens im Absolutiv. Nun ist der Agens des Verbums šar- ‘fragen, fordern’ in Satz (7) der Absolutiv Teššub=ø, und der Essiv kirenza ‘Freilassung’ ist der Patiens des Fragens. Warum verwendet der Text hier gerade diese antipassivische Konstruktion statt der üblicheren mit einem aktiven transitiven Verb, mit Teššubaš im Ergativ und kirenzi im Absolutiv? Eine plausible Erklärung könnte die folgende sein: Es sind hier zwei Sätze koordiniert, von denen der erste ein intransitives Subjekt und der zweite ein Agens hat. In der üblicheren aktiven Konstruktion hätte der Name Teššub noch mal im Ergativ wiederholt oder als Pronomen aufgenommen werden müssen. Um das zu vermeiden wählt der Autor des Textes hier das Antipassiv und kann so den Absolutiv Teššub=ø in der zweiten Satzhälfte in der Rolle des Agens auftreten lassen. Satz (7) wäre also zu vergleichen mit dem deutschen Satz (5a), in dem das Passiv eingesetzt wird um eine grammatikalisch akzeptable Koordination zu erreichen.

9

G. Wilhelm hat während der Diskussion in Moskau meine Aufmerksamkeit auf diesen Abschnitt gelenkt. Die von Friedrich 1932:19 übernommenen Ergänzungen ergeben sich aus dem Kontext. Für eine spekulative Erklärung der Abwechslung von Antipassiv und transitivem Aktiv in (8) s. Anm. 13.

994

Limited-corpus Languages of the Ancient Near East

In demselben “Lied der Freilassung” finden wir jedoch auch Beispiel (9): (9) andi=ø futki=(i?)=ø (…) teh-ešt=a=b talmu=a=b jener=Abs Kind=(Poss3Sg?)=Abs aufwachsen-Werw=Intr=3Sg/Pl großwerden=Intr=3Sg/Pl

attai=i=ø am-ol=ud=o=m (KBo XXXII, 14 iv 2–410) Vater=Poss3Sg=Abs erreichen-Werw=Neg=Tr=3SgAg

‘Jener Sohn (…) wuchs auf, wurde groß, seinen Vater suchte er nicht auf.’ (Hethitisch III 2–4 apāš DUMU=ŠU (...) šallešta=aš n(u)=aš meani ārš n(u)=ašta namma atta(n)=šan anda UL aušzi)

Der Absolutiv andi=ø futki=ø “jener Sohn” ist Subjekt der intransitiven Verben teheštab und talmuab. Ohne Übergang ist diese Nominalphrase jedoch auch Subjekt des transitiven Verbs amoludom, das eigentlich einen Ergativ als Subjekt erfordert. Das ist im Widerspruch mit der gerade vorgeschlagenen Erklärung für Beispiel (7); offensichtlich kann ein Absolutiv im Hurritischen seine grammatikalische Rolle ändern und stillschweigend als transitives Subjekt eines Folgesatzes auftreten. Beispiel (9) steht stellvertretend für eine Gruppe von Textstellen aus den Parabeln im “Lied der Freilassung”; alle stammen aus dem die Metapher erklärenden Teil einer Parabel. Die sind grammatikalisch wie Beispiel (9) aufgebaut: Ein Absolutiv am Anfang der Erklärung ist wenig später das zu ergänzende Subjekt eines transitiven Verbes.11 Der Mittani-Brief enthält eine mit Beispielsatz (9) vergleichbare Textstelle: (10) faš=ai=n(na)=an šēn(a)=iffe=ø eintreten=DebFin=3SgAbs=Part Bruder=Poss1Sg=Abs

(34) ped-ešt=i=en=an nihāri=ø šir=i?=en=(n)na=ān (MittBr III 33–34) ausbreiten-Werw=Mod1=Mod2(3Sg)=Part Mitgift=Abs angenehmsein?= Mod1?=Mod2(3Sg)=3SgAbs=Part

‘Mein Bruder möge eintreten, er möge die Mitgift ausbreiten, und sie möge angenehm sein(?).’

Die erste Phrase in diesem Textbeispiel ist intransitiv, und das Subjekt des Verbums, šeniffe ‘mein Bruder’, steht dann auch im Absolutiv. Über die Analyse des folgenden Verbs pedeštien und vor allem über den Status des =i= in dieser Form besteht unter den Hurritologen noch keine 10

Neu 1996:82–83, 160–164. Vgl. KBo XXXII, 14 i 17–22; 32 iv 13–19; 14Rs.:48; eine Ausnahme ist KBo XXXII, 14 i 31–38, mit einem Ergativ in i 34. 11

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Einigkeit,12 aber—und das ist für unser Thema wichtiger—die syntaktische Konstruktion der Form ist unumstritten. Sie ist eine transitive modale Form, die einen Ergativ als Subjekt und einen Absolutiv als direktes Objekt erfordert. Das direkte Objekt zu pedeštien ist der Absolutiv nihari=ø. Als Subjekt muß aus dem vorigen Satz in Gedanken die Nominalphrase ‘mein Bruder’ ergänzt werden, die dort aber, wie wir gesehen haben, keine Ergativmarkierung trägt, sondern den Kasus Absolutiv hat. Textbeispiel (10) ist also mit (9) vergleichbar. 4. Interpretation des Materials Ist nun das Hurritische syntaktisch ergativisch? Aufgrund der Beispiele (9) und (10) ist diese Frage mit ‘nein’ zu beantworten. Beide Beispiele enthalten keine syntaktische Fortsetzung der strikten Trennung vom transitiven Subjekt und intransitiven Subjekt, sowie sie die hurritische Morphologie eindeutig zeigt. In (9) und (10) kann ein morphologisch als intransitives Subjekt markiertes Wort problemlos auch die Rolle des transitiven Subjekts übernehmen. Ist dann das Hurritische syntaktisch akkusativisch, sowie das Deutsche, Englische usw.? Stehen syntaktisch gesehen transitives Subjekt und intransitives Subjekt auf der einen Seite einer Trennlinie, und das direkte Objekt auf der anderen Seite? Auch das ist nicht der Fall. In Beispiel (6) erfüllt ein Absolutiv nacheinander eine Rolle als direktes Objekt und als intransitives Subjekt, und durchbricht damit sozusagen eine akkusativische Grenze. In einer Akkusativsprache wäre dies undenkbar. So scheint sich das Hurritische syntaktisch gesehen in einer Art Schwebezustand zwischen Ergativität und Akkusativität zu befinden. Das macht Beispiel (7) schwer einzuordnen. Die naheliegende Erklärung für die Einsetzung des Antipassivs in diesem Satz ist, wie wir gesehen haben, die Eröffnung der Möglichkeit, einen Satz mit einem Agens im Kasus Absolutiv zu bilden. Wie die Sätze (9) und (10) jedoch zeigen, bestand kein grammatikalischer Zwang hierzu. Vielleicht haben trotzdem stilistische Gründe bei der Wahl des Antipassivs eine Rolle gespielt. Doch mit die-

12

Für =i= als modales Suffix (wie in diesem Beitrag) s. u. a. Girbal 1989:83; Wegner 2000:88–93 (= Wegner 2007:102–109); Hazenbos 2005:148–149. Für =i= als transitives Suffix s. u. a. Giorgieri 2000:238–239; Wilhelm 2004:113; Campbell 2007:211–281.

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sem Gedanken begebe ich mich mangels einschlägigen Vergleichmaterials schon auf das unsichere Gebiet der Spekulation.13 Abkürzungen bei den Textbeispielen 1 = 1. Person; 2 = 2. Person; 3 = 3. Person; Abs = Absolutiv; Ag = Agens; Antip = Antipassiv; DebFin = Debitiv-Finalis; Dir = Direktiv; Erg = Ergativ; Ess = Essiv; Fut = Futur; Intr = Intransitiv; MittBr = Mittani-Brief; Mod (1, 2) = (1., 2.) Modalsuffix; Neg = Negation; Part = Partikel; Pl = Plural; Prät = Präteritum; Poss = Possessivum; Rel = Relativum; Sg = Singular; Tr = Transitiv; Werw = Wurzelerweiterung.

Literaturverweise Bush 1965 Campbell 2007 Diakonoff 1957

Diakonoff 1971 Dixon 1994 Friedrich 1932 Giorgieri 2000 Girbal 1989 Haas–Wilhelm 1969

Bush, F. W. A Grammar of the Hurrian Language. PhD. Diss. Brandeis University, Ann Arbor. Campbell, D. Mood and Modality in Hurrian. PhD. Diss. University of Chicago. Diakonoff, I. M. A Comparative Survey of the Hurrian and Urartean Languages. Akten des vierundzwanzigsten Internationalen Orientalisten-Kongresses München. Wiesbaden. Pp. 165–170. Diakonoff, I. M. Hurrisch und Urartäisch (MSS Bh 6). München. Dixon, R. M. W. Ergativity (Cambridge Studies in Linguistics 69). Cambridge. Friedrich, J. Kleinasiatische Sprachdenkmäler (Kleine Texte für Vorlesungen und Übungen 163). Berlin. Giorgieri, M. Schizzo grammaticale della lingua hurrica. PdP 55:171–277. Girbal, C. Der Pluralisator /t/ in hurritischen Verbformen. AoF 16:78–83. Haas, V.; Wilhelm, G. Zum hurritischen Ergativ. Or 38: 552–556.

13 P. Goedegebuure und C. Wilcke fragten mich im Anschluß an meinen Vortrag in Moskau nach der Möglichkeit von pragmatischen Faktoren bei der Konstruktionswahl im Hurritischen. Auch solche Faktoren können mitgespielt haben, aber dürften im beschränkten hurritischen Textkorpus vorerst kaum mit Sicherheit nachzuweisen sein. Dixon 1994:208 nennt die Tendenz von Sprachen, ein neues Element als intransitives Subjekt oder direktes Objekt zu präsentieren (für beide Satzfunktionen haben Ergativsprachen den Kasus Absolutiv). Hat eine solche Tendenz vielleicht mitgespielt bei der Formulierung der zweiten Hälfte von Beispiel (8) mit Mane als Patiens im Absolutiv in einer aktiven transitiven Konstruktion? Auch diese Hypothese ist nur spekulativ; außerdem war Mane schon kurz davor im vorhergehenden Paragraphen (MittBr II 102) erwähnt.

J. Hazenbos, Hurritisch und syntaktische Ergativität Hazenbos 2002 Hazenbos 2005

Kammenhuber 1968 Neu 1996

Speiser 1939 Speiser 1941 Wegner 2000 Wegner 2007 Wilhelm 1992

Wilhelm 2004

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Hazenbos, J. Besprechung von Wegner 2000. JAOS 122: 870–872. Hazenbos, J. Hurritisch und Urartäisch. Streck, M. P. (Hrsg.). Sprachen des Alten Orients. Darmstadt. Pp. 135– 158. Kammenhuber, A. Morphologie hurrischer Nomina. MSS 23:49–79. Neu, E. Das hurritische Epos der Freilassung. I. Untersuchungen zu einem hurritisch-hethitischen Textensemble aus Hattuša (StBoT 32). Wiesbaden. Speiser, E. A. Studies in Hurrian Grammar. JAOS 59: 289–324. Speiser, E. A. Introduction to Hurrian (AASOR 20). New Haven. Wegner, I. Einführung in die hurritische Sprache. Wiesbaden. Wegner, I. Einführung in die hurritische Sprache. 2. Auflage. Wiesbaden. Wilhelm, G. EA 24: A Letter in Hurrian about Marriage and Friendship. In Moran, W. L. The Amarna Letters. Baltimore. Pp. 63–71. Wilhelm, G. Hurrian. Woodard, R. (Hrsg.). The Cambridge Encyclopedia of the World’s Ancient Languages. Cambridge. Pp. 95–118.

On the Genesis of the Category of Aspect/Tense in Hurro-Urartian, Sumerian and Elamite Margarit Khachikyan Institute of Oriental Studies of Armenia

This paper is an attempt to trace back the formation of the category of aspect/tense in Hurrian, Urartian, Sumerian and Elamite and to point out the similarities of this process and its peculiarities in each of them.1 1. Hurrian and Urartian Hurrian, being a language of ergative typology, is characterized by the opposition of two conjugational types: transitive/ergative and intransitive/ absolutive. The transitive conjugation was formed by means of ergative subject markers. In the sphere of the intransitive conjugation, which was formed by means of the absolutive subject markers the following semantical-morphological subtypes are distinguished: – intransitive verbs, with the thematic vowel -a- (nahh-a-b ‘he sat down,’ KBo XXXII, 14 iv 25; un-a-ø ‘he comes/is coming,’ Mit. ii 14); – verbs of non-centrifugal/reflexive semantics and verbs of transitive semantics forming the antipassive construction, with the thematic vowel -i- (ugulgar-i-ø ‘he prostrated himself,’ KBo XXXII, 15 iv 10; pi´andož-itta- ‘I rejoiced,’ Mit. iv 9; ela1 fahroša2 tant-i-b3 … Allane ‘Allane (abs.) shearranged3 a fine2 feast1 (loc.-essive),’ KBo XXXII, 13 i 12–13; paššed-i-d‘I will send/write [to my brother],’ Mit. iii 116); – verbs of state and of involuntary action with the thematic vowel -u or -e (par-u-ø ištaniyeda ‘he-felt-ill in himself,’ KBo XXXII, 14 iv 59; tupp-e-ø ‘it [the tablet of the dowry] does exist,’ Mit. iii 36).

Because of the considerable differences in the aspectual/temporal systems of old and late Hurrian, they will be discussed separately.

1 On the aspects/tenses in Hurrian and Urartian see also Khachikyan 2005, for a more detailed analysis of the aspectual system in Sumerian cf. Khachikyan 2006.

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Old Hurrian The term old Hurrian is used to designate the language of the HurroHittite bilingual from Boğazköy and the Tišadal inscription from Urkesh, characterized by the presence of the thematic vowel -o- in the perfective forms2 and the 3rd person singular subject marker(s) -b/m. As seen from table 1, the transitive verb distinguished between perfective/past and imperfective/non-past forms, whereas the intransitive verb was aspectless/atemporal. Despite the fact that the 1st and 2nd person perfective forms (col. 1a) are not attested, while the 3rd person forms are not built according to the ergative pattern (they contain the non-ergative morph(s) -b/m instead of the ergative subject marker -(i)a, cf. col. 2a), we may state that the perfective conjugation is ergative, whereas the 3rd person form falls out of the paradigm. This assertion is based: a) on the fact that the 3rd person forms appear in sentences of ergative construction, with the subject in the ergative and direct object in the absolutive case, cf. (1); b) on the comparison with Urartian which reveals considerable similarities with old Hurrian (the perfective conjugation in Urartian is ergative, see col. 1b); c) on the fact that the old Hurrian imperfective forms were conjugated ergatively (col. 2a). And since “in a considerable number of languages an ergative construction is limited to perfective or preterit environments, while the non-ergative type is used in imperfective or nonpreterit environments” (Hopper–Thomson 1980:271), the conjugation of the imperfective forms according to the ergative pattern implies that the perfective forms also belonged to the ergative conjugation. (1) kazi1 tawalli-š2 … tawašt-o-m3 ‘a smith2 (erg.) cast3 a jug1 (abs.),’ KBo XXXII, 14 i 42–43. (2) Megine-lla1 (< *Megineš-lla) alilan-o-m2 uhne ‘Megi (erg.) lamented2 them1, the uhne (abs.),’ KBo XXXII, 15 iv 8–9. (3) neravu1-mma2 (< *neravuš-mma) … Kumarveneš un-o-b ‘your-mother1 (erg.) … Kumarve begot you2,’ KUB XLVII, 78:13′–14′.

2

The pronunciation [o] (graph. helm 1992:667.

U)

was established by G. Wilhelm, see Wil-

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Excursus There has been no unanimity concerning the morph -m. I. M. Diakonoff (1971:111, 123, n. 143) compared -m in the form pahaštum of the Tišadal-inscription from Urkesh with the Urartian object marker -ne in the 3rd person perfective forms (col. 1b). Yet the object marker in old Hurrian is -n(na), not -m, as follows from the 1st p. sg. imperfective form arol-av-nna ‘I (will) give him away’ (col. 2a). According to G. Wilhelm (1992:666), -m is a “bipolar” suffix combining the meanings of the 3rd p. sg. subject and object (“(s)he/it” + him/ her/it”). E. Neu considered -m as an articulatory variant of -b (Neu 1996:142, 169, 181). The author identified the suffix -m of the perfective conjugation with the subject marker -b of the intransitive conjugation (col. 3a) and explained -m as a dialectal variant of -b (Khachikyan 1985:21, 81–82). However, after the discovery of the Hurro-Hittite bilingual, where both grammemes are attested, we are inclined to interpret -m as an articulatory or graphical variant of -b. 3 Anyhow, irrespective of whether -m and -b are different morphemes or allomorphs of the same morpheme, it is beyond doubt that -b expressed the 3rd person subject of both the intransitive (cf. col. 3a of table 1), as well as transitive verbs (cf. note 3). * * * From the fact that the 3rd p. subject marker -b was used with the verbs of transitive (thematic vowel -o-) and intransitive (thematic vowels -a- and -i-) action, in contrast with the marker -ø of the verbs of state and involuntary action/state (thematic vowel -u-/-e-), we may assume that the 3rd person perfective forms with the non-ergative subject marker(s) -m/b reflected an earlier stage of the language, which was characterized by the opposition of the verbs of action to the verbs of state and, respectively, of the active subject (marker(s) -b/m) to the inactive one (marker -ø). It is noteworthy that in the Hurro-Hittite bilingual, alongside the 3rd person verbs of action with the suffix -b/m, a number of 3rd person forms

3

The possible conjecture that the form puzih-o-b (KBo XXXII, 14 iv 24) is a result of misspelling of the form puzih-o-m in the parallel passage (ibid., l. 11) and that the use of the 3rd person subject marker -b is limited to the verbs with the thematic vowels -a and -i, is ruled out by the passage (3), with the 3rd p. sg. subject marker -b corresponding to the singular noun nera and the 2nd p. sg. pronominal clitic -mma, expressing the object of the passage.

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without this suffix are also attested: nahhoš-o-ø, ugulgar-i-ø, himzathoš-i-ø, naned-i-ø et al. (cf. col. 1a, 3a of table 1). This inconsistency, perhaps, should be explained by the elimination of the opposition active : inactive, which resulted in the total loss of -b/m in late Hurrian. The replacement of the opposition active : inactive by the opposition transitive : intransitive, in its turn, led to the emergence of a new, transitive conjugation, with ergative subject markers instead of the active subject markers of the previous stage. As the ergative conjugation is transitive by definition, the marker of transitivity -o- in the forms of the newly emerged ergative conjugation became redundant. And since the ergativity is related with the perfective/preterital semantics, the vowel -o- was reinterpreted into the marker of perfectivity and the newly formed conjugation into the perfective conjugation (col. 1a). This was succeeded by the emergence of another set of ergative forms without the vowel -o- (col. 2a), which marked imperfectivity in contrast with the forms containing this vowel. The intransitive verb in old Hurrian, unlike the transitive one, did not develop special means for expressing aspectual/temporal distinctions. Late Hurrian The verbal system of late Hurrian, characterized by the loss of the transitivity marker -o and the subject marker(s) -b/m-, underwent considerable changes: the aspectual system of old Hurrian, confined to the transitive verb only, was substituted for a system of tenses (present, past, future), embracing both the transitive and intransitive verbs. The unmarked present tense contrasted with the past and future tenses, designated by the suffixes -oš- and -ed- respectively, cf. (4–6). (4) Ergative: tan-av ‘I do’ (Mit. ii 92), tad-iv ‘you love’ (RŠ h. 6:3), kad-ia ‘he/she speaks’ (Mit. iv 12). Absolutive: un-a-m ‘you come’ (KUB XLV, 25:3, 5, 7, 9, 11), una-ø ‘he comes’ (ibid. i 14). (5) Ergative: ar-oš-av ‘I heard’ (Mit. iii 2 etc.), ar-oš-o ‘you gave’ (KUB XLVII, 2 iv 13), ar-oš-a ‘he gave’ (Mit. i 46). Absolutive: pi´and-oš-i-tta(-) ‘I rejoiced’ (Mit. iii 99), itt-oš-t-a-ø ‘it (the gift) departed’ (ibid. i 90). (6) Ergative: kad-ed-av ‘I shall say’ (Mit. iv 9), ar-ed-o ‘you will give’ (KUB XLVII, 53:17), ar-ed-a ‘he will give’ (Mit. i 106).

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Absolutive: pašš-ed-i-d- ‘I shall send [to my brother]’ (Mit. iii 116), un-ed-t-a-ø ‘she [the wife of my brother] will arrive’ (ibid. iii 21).

These suffixes are also attested in old Hurrian. But, unlike late Hurrian, where they functioned as temporal markers, in old Hurrian they didn’t express grammatical meaning and functioned as derivational morphs. This may be inferred from the parallel use of the forms with these suffixes and without them, cf. the parallel forms šiyal-oš-o-m and šildanur-o-m in (7) and pah-ed-av … šer-ed-av … hubušt-av in (8). Moreover, these suffixes are also attested in the old Hurrian intransitive forms that knew no aspectual/temporal distinctions, cf. the reflexive form himzath-ož-i-ø ‘she girded up’ and the antipassive form nan-ed-i-ø ‘it (the weapon) will strike,’ cited above. (7) šiyal-oš-o-m1 abre2 pillanewa3 kirarneš4 tur(i)ye5 eše6 šildanur-o-m7 ‘hepiled-up1 the-logs2 at-the-canal3, (their-)bottom4 reached/touched7 deep5 the ground6 (the underworld)’ (KBo XXXII, 14 iv 56). (8) arde-ma1 URUEbla2 pah-ed-av3 … šer-ed-av4 … adašše5 … hubušt-av6 ‘and-the-city1 of Ebla2 will-I-destroy3 … will-I-raze4 (to the ground) … I shall break6 the-rampart5 (round the city)’ (KBo XXXII, 19 i 24–27).

Urartian The Urartian verbal system is more archaic than that of late Hurrian and is closer to old Hurrian. Like in old Hurrian, the Urartian perfective/past tense forms contained the thematic vowel -o-,4 followed by the ergative subject markers. It should be noted, that despite its outward resemblance with the old Hurrian 3rd person perfective form (in both forms the thematic vowel -ois followed by a suffix of the non-ergative set, cf. col. 1a and 1b of table 1), they are different: in old Hurrian we have a residual form with the active subject marker(s) -b/m, whereas the Urartian form seems to be an ergative one, with the ø-allomorph of the ergative subject marker and the 3rd p. sg. absolutive object marker -ne (ha-o-ø-ne ‘he took it’ (KUKN passim). This conjecture is confirmed by the fact that in the corresponding forms with the 3rd p. pl. object suffix -le the latter is attached to the ergative marker -a: ha-o-a-le ‘he took them’ (KUKN 56:15).

4

The character of this vowel, denoted by the series of U-signs, is assumed by analogy with old Hurrian.

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The structure of the Urartian imperfective forms (cf. col. 2b of table 1), as well as of the intransitive ones (col. 3b), also coincides with that of old Hurrian. Like in old Hurrian, the aspectual/temporal distinctions did not apply to the intransitive verb and were limited to the sphere of the transitive one. This may be proved by (9) and (10): the form nahade refers to the past tense in (9) and to the present in (10). (9) naha1-de2 LÚAD-sine3 esi4-ye5 ‘I2 ascended1 (seated myself on) the paternal3 (his5) place4’ (KUKN 424:3–4, 274:4). (10) nahade1 LUGÁL-tuhinina2 GIŠGU.ZA3-a4 ‘I-am-seated1 on4 the royal2 0throne3’ (ibid. 406:24–25).

Conclusions The stages of development of the verbal system of proto-Hurro-Urartian that resulted in the formation of the category of aspect in Hurrian and Urartian are presented in table 2. Stage 1: the verbs are distributed into two groups: verbs of action and verbs of state. Stage 2: the verbal vocabulary is redistributed into transitives and intransitives. This stage is marked by the emergence of the ergative conjugation formed by means of ergative markers attached to the thematic vowel of the transitive verb -o-. Stage 3: due to the link of ergativity with the perfective semantics, the ergative forms are perceived as perfective ones. This leads to the formation of another set of ergative forms devoid of the thematic vowel -o-. The latter express imperfectivity as opposed to the perfective forms. Stage 4: peculiar to Hurrian only, this stage is marked by the development of a system of tenses replacing the former system of aspects. The formation of this category resulted from the grammaticalization of the old Hurrian derivational suffixes, in all likelihood, denoting Aktionsart distinctions. 2. Sumerian In Sumerian, like in Hurro-Urartian, the transitive verbs were opposed to the intransitive ones and the aspectual distinctions were limited to the sphere of the transitive verbs, cf. table 3. The distinctions between the perfective and imperfective forms were not denoted by special morphs, but were expressed by functional reversal

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of the pre-radical and post-radical affixes: the former expressed the subject of the perfective and the object of the imperfective conjugation, the latter—vice versa (cf. col. 1 and 2 of table 3). As to the subject markers of the intransitive verb, they coincided with the object markers of the perfective/past forms, which means that the perfective/past tense forms of the transitive verb belonged to the ergative conjugation (cf. col. 1 and 3 of table 3). On the other hand, the intransitive subject markers coincided, though partially, with the subject markers of the imperfective aspect. Differences are only revealed in the 3rd person, cf. the imperfective subject markers -e in singular and -ene in plural against -ø and -eš of the intransitive conjugation (col. 2 and 3 of table 3). From the fact that the 3rd p. pl. subject marker of the imperfective conjugation -ene expressed the plural of the active nouns (dingir ‘god’ ~ dingir-ene ‘gods’) we may assume, that initially it marked the active subject as opposed to the inactive one.5 Hence, the morphs -e- and -ø in the 3rd p. sg. imperfective forms are to be interpreted as the 3rd p. sg. active and inactive subject markers respectively. One, however, should note that the original function of these two sets of subject markers had undergone changes. The inactive markers were not limited to the verbs of state, as in the languages of active typology distinguishing between action and state, but denoted the subject of the intransitive verbs in general. On the other hand, the active set of affixes did not express the subject of the verbs of action, but was only confined to the transitive verbs. Conclusions The above-mentioned facts allow us to trace back the evolution of the verbal system and the formation of the aspectual/temporal system in Sumerian (cf. table 4). Stage 1: the verbal vocabulary falls into the groups of verbs of action and those of state. The traces of this opposition are revealed in the opposition of the 3rd person subject markers of the imperfective and intransitive conjugations (cf. table 3), going back to the active and inactive ones. Stage 2: it is marked by the redistribution of the verbal vocabulary into the groups of transitive and intransitive verbs, resulting in the shift

5

The same phenomenon is known in Elamite, where the morph -p functioned as the 3rd p. pl. active subject marker and the plural marker of the active substantives.

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of the intransitive verbs from the group of the verbs of action to that of the verbs of state. This phenomenon finds its morphological expression in the use of the originally inactive 3rd p. subject marker -ø with the verbs of intransitive action as well. Stage 3: characteristic of this stage is the emergence of a new, ergative type of conjugation (cf. col. 1 of table 4), alongside with the transitive conjugation of the previous stage. Because of the link of the ergative forms with the perfective semantics, the forms of the ergative conjugation are perceived as perfective ones. In consequence, the aspectless forms of the older transitive conjugation (stage 2) are reinterpreted into imperfective ones. 3. Elamite The verbal system of Elamite is characterized by a split: the past tense distinguishes between the transitive/ergative and intransitive/absolutive conjugations, the non-past tense does not (cf. table 5). The transitive conjugation was formed by adding personal subject markers to the verbal stem. The object might be expressed by resumptive pronominal elements (cf. table 6) that preceded the verbal form, being attached to personal pronouns, cf. (11–12).6 (11) u1 ak2 Nahhunte-utu muhti3 nu-n4 kulla-hu5 kullak6-nikame7 hap-ti8 ‘I1 and2 Nahhunte-utu we-implored5 you4 with-offers3 (and) you-heard8 our7 prayer6’ (EKI 54 § 13). (12) u1 … Siyankuk siyan2-ime3 … kuši-h4 Nahhunte lansitirra5 i-r6 šari-h7 … i-r8 murta-h9 ‘I1 … built4 the sanctuary of Siyankuk (lit. Siyankuk, its3 sanctuary2) … cast7-him6 (= Nahhunte), the gold5 (statue of ) Nahhunte … placed9 him8’ (EKI 10a i–iv).

The intransitive conjugation was formed by means of the personal classifiers attached to the -k-stem (col. 2 of table 5). It expressed: a) the past tense of the intransitive verbs (13); b) the passive of the transitive verbs (14). (13) kuš1 u2 Babili šanu-k-it3 appi4 dayaiš5 u6 i-r7 bebti-p8 ‘while1 I2 was3 in Babylon these4 countries5 rebelled8 (lit. he7 they-rebelled8,

6

The use of these elements with the personal pronouns creates the illusion that the personal pronouns had a special object (accusative) form opposed to the unmarked subject form (u ‘I’ ~ u-n ‘me,’ nuku ‘we’ ~ nuku-n ‘us,’ appi ‘they’ ~ appi-n ‘them’ etc.), cf. Reiner 1969:91; Stolper 2004:75. In reality neither the Elamite noun, nor the pronoun had positional cases. The markers of the spatial “cases,” actually, were partly grammaticalized postpositions.

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without agreement in number between the resumptive pronoun -r and the personal classifier -p) against-me6’ (DB 20:1). (14) Ziššantakma i-r1 marri-š2 u3-ikki4 i-r5 tingi-š6 … zip7 unina8-ma9 rappak-ø10-a11 marri-k-ø12 ‘They-seized2 him1, Ziššantakma, sent6 him5 to4 me3 … he-was-tied/chained10 and11 held12 at9 my8 gate7’ (DB 26:65–66).

The forms of the non-past tense were built by means of the personal classifiers added to the -n-stem (15–16). These forms were also used to express oblique moods (17–18). (15) u1 Šattarida par2 Makištarra-na nima-n-ki3 ‘I1 am3 Šattarida (from) Makištarra’s family2’ (DB 22:10–11). (16) siyan1 Inšušinak-me2 aha3-n4 kuši-n-ki5 … ‘I-will-build5 here3 (-it4 or -I4?) the sanctuary1 of2 Inšušinak’ (EKI 43 iii). (17) hami1 Pirrumartiš hupirri2 šinnuk-ø3 šaparakumme4 huttima-n-ra5 ‘there1 came3 that2 (very) Pirrumartiš to make5 (so that he makes) a battle4’ (DB 25:50–51). (18) akka1 ´almum2-ume3 huma-n-ra4 akka5 hutu-n-ra6 … ‘who(ever)1 takes-away4 my3 statue2, who(ever)5 breaks6 (it) … (may the curse of the gods fall upon him)’ (EKI 16 iii).

The intransitive and non-past forms were preceded by the resumptive elements (cf. table 6), performing the role of the subject with the intransitive verbs. It is not quite clear, whether these elements expressed the subject or the object with the non-past forms of the transitive verbs, cf. col. 3 of table 5 and (16). Thus, the resumptive elements denoted the object with the forms of the transitive, and the subject with those of the intransitive conjugation. This fact allows us to assume that these conjugations were correlated as absolutive vs. ergative. The absence of the 3rd person singular active classifier -r in the intransitive forms (col. 2 of table 5) allows us to assume that the intransitive conjugation originated from the inactive one.7 This hypothesis is supported by the following data: a) along with the intransitive verbs this conjugation included passive forms, which apparently expressed a resultative state (a real passive, with the doer of action in instrumental is a later phenomenon; in all likelihood, it appeared under Old Persian influence);

7

Cf. the -ø subject marker in the Hurro-Urartian verbs of state (table 1) and in the Sumerian intransitive forms going back to the inactive conjugation (table 3).

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Limited-corpus Languages of the Ancient Near East b) the 3rd p. pl. form of the intransitive verbs (V-p, instead of the expected *V-k-p) is alien to this conjugation. Moreover, the absence of the plural form is in full agreement with the fact that the inactive substantives in Elamite had no plural forms.

Thus, the missing plural form must have been borrowed from another paradigm, obviously, that of the active conjugation, -p being the 3rd p. pl. active marker. The traces of the active conjugation are revealed in the verbal nouns with the derivational suffix -r: sunki-r ‘king (= ruler),’ liba-r ‘servant,’ bahi-r ‘protector,’ kap-nuški-r ‘treasurer (= treasury keeper).’ That this suffix originated from the active personal classifier and had not totally lost its initial function is evident from the fact that these substantives lost it when combined with the plural marker -p or other personal classifiers: sunki-r (sg.), sunki-p (pl.), u PN sunki-k GN-k(a) ‘I, PN, the king-I of GN.’ These data attest to the opposition of the active verbs to the inactive ones that predated the opposition of transitives to intransitives. The active and inactive conjugations were formed by adding personal classifiers to the verbal base (active) or to the -k-stem (inactive). At this stage of development the conjugation based on the -n-stem, in all likelihood, expressed oblique moods of the active verbs as opposed to the indicative mood of the active conjugation. That it was confined to the active verbs follows from the 3rd p. sg. subject marker -r, instead of -ø of the inactive conjugation. Conclusions The evolution of the verbal system in Elamite resulting in the formation of its aspectual/temporal system is presented in table 7. Stage 1: characteristic of this stage is the opposition of the verbs of action to the verbs of state. Stage 2: the verbs are redistributed into the groups of transitive and intransitive ones. The verbs of the intransitive action merge with the inactive ones, a new set of forms emerges for the verbs of the transitive action. As a result, the former active conjugation comes into disuse and is ousted from the verbal system. Stage 3: due to the relation of transitivity to perfective/preterital semantics the transitive (ergative) conjugation acquires perfective/preterital meaning. By analogy, the intransitive conjugation, too, is transformed into perfective/preterital. The imperfective/non-past semantics, being ex-

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cluded from the transitive and intransitive conjugations of the indicative mood is transferred to the sphere of the oblique mood. 4. Summary The aspectual systems in Hurro-Urartian and Sumerian emerged in the sphere of the transitive verbs as a result of ergativization of these languages and replacement of the initial opposition action : state by the opposition transitive : intransitive. The formation of the category of aspect in both of them was connected with the emergence of the ergative conjugation, related with perfective semantics. This process, however, was not completed in either of these languages: it didn’t affect the sphere of the intransitive verbs and was confined to the transitive ones. Only in late Hurrian this asymmetrical system was dropped, giving place to the temporal system, which embraced the verbal vocabulary as a whole. In Elamite, too, the genesis of the aspectual/temporal system is connected: a) with the emergence of the opposition transitive : intransitive, instead of the previous opposition of the verbs of action to the verbs of state, b) the broadening of the sphere of the verbs of state at the expense of the intransitive verbs of action, c) the formation of a transitive ergative conjugation transformed into perfective/preterital. From this point on Elamite followed its own way that considerably differs from that of Hurro-Urartian and Sumerian: by analogy with the transitive conjugation, the intransitive conjugation, too, acquired perfective/preterital meaning, whereas the imperfective/non-past semantics was adopted by the forms of the oblique mood. As a result, Elamite developed a system distinguishing between the transitive and intransitive conjugations in the past tense as opposed to the non-past conjugation, neutral in respect to transitivity : intransitivity.

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References Diakonoff 1971 Hopper–Thompson 1980 Friedrich 1932 Grillot-Susini–Roche 1987

Grillot-Susuni et al. 1993

Khachikyan 1985 Khačikjan 1998 Khachikyan 2005

Khachikyan 2006 Laroche 1968 Neu 1996

Reiner 1969

Stolper 2004

Wilhelm 1992

Diakonoff, I. M. Hurrisch und Urartäisch (MSS Bh 6. NF). München. Hopper, P. J.; Thompson, S. A. Transitivity in Grammar and Discourse. Language 56:251–299. Friedrich, J. Kleinasiatische Sprachdenkmäler. Berlin. Grillot-Susini, F. avec collaboration de C. Roche. Éléments de grammaire élamite (Éditions Recherches sur les Civilisations 29). Paris. Grillot-Susini, F.; Herrenschmidt, C.; Malbran-Labat, F. La version élamite de la trilingue de Behistun: une nouvelle lecture. JA 281:19–59. Khachikyan, M. L. Hurrian and Urartian (Hurrity i urarty 2). Erevan. (Hurritskij i urartskij jazyki). Khačikjan, M. The Elamite Language (Documenta Asiana IV). Roma. Khachikyan, M. L. Aspects/Tenses in Hurrian and Urartian. Koslova, N. et al. (eds.). Edubba is Everlasting. Proceedings of the Conference Held in Commemoration of the 90th Birthday of I. M. Diakonoff. St. Petersburg. Pp. 242–248. (Vid/vremja v hurritskom i urartskom jazykah). Khachikyan, M. L. Towards the Aspect System in Sumerian. B&B 2:31–39. Laroche, E. Documents en langue hourrite provenant de Ras Shamra. Ugaritica 5:447–544. Neu, E. Das hurritische Epos der Freilassung. I. Untersuchungen zu einem hurritisch-hethithischen Textensemble aus Hattuša (StBoT 32). Wiesbaden. Reiner, E. The Elamite Language. Spuler, B. et al. (eds.). Altkleinasiatische Sprache (HdO I, Abt. II/1–2). Leiden–Köln. Pp. 54–118. Stolper, M. W. Elamite. Woodard, R. D. (ed.). The Cambridge Encyclopedia of the World’s Ancient Languages. Cambridge. Pp. 60–93. Wilhelm, G. Zum hurritischen Verbalsystem. Anschütz, S. R. (ed.). Texte, Sätze, Wörter und Moneme. Festschrift für Klaus Heger zum 65. Geburtstag. Heidelberg. Pp. 659–671.

Les deux stèles de Rusa III, fils d’Erimena, provenant du Keşiş Göl Mirjo Salvini Rome

Abstract La découverte récente d’une nouvelle stèle monumentale, dont le texte est un duplicata de deux documents préalablement connus, permet d’opérer un raccord entre eux et de reconstruire ainsi l’œuvre du roi urartéen Rusa, fils d’Erimena. C’est à ce souverain qu’il faut désormais attribuer la celèbre “Stèle du Keşiş Göl” qui avait été initialement attribuée à Rusa I, fils de Sarduri et, plus récemment, à Rusa II, fils d’Argishti. L’importance de ce monument, découvert en 1892 et maintenant exposé au Vorderasiatisches Museum de Berlin, réside dans le fait qu’il fut la raison principale de la celèbre “Armenische Expedition” de Carl Friedrich Lehmann-Haupt et Waldemar Belck organisée en 1898–1899 par l’Académie de Sciences de Prusse. Cette date doit être considérée comme celle de la naissance de la recherche moderne sur la civilisation et la langue urartéennes. Ce document est maintenant complet et il nous renseigne sur l’activité de Rusa III dans la région montagneuse à l’est de Van, notamment l’aménagement d’un lac artificiel (le “Lac de Rusa”, le moderne Keşiş Göl) ainsi que la construction de la ville de Rusahinili (Toprakkale). En outre, cette nouvelle découverte risque de bouleverser en partie la chronologie urartéenne du VIIème siècle. * * * Je pars du principe qu’à la base de toute construction linguistique il y a le travail épigraphique, afin d’établir une base textuelle solide. Tel a été le travail des pionniers de nos disciplines orientalistes à partir du XIXe siècle, de ceux qui ont découvert le vieux perse achéménide, l’assyrien, le sumérien, le babylonien et d’autres langues encore. Ils ont ainsi posé la base de la reconstruction de ces langues, à l’aide de lexiques, vocabulaires et grammaires. Ceci vaut à plus forte raison pour les “Limited Corpus Languages” qui font l’objet du présent “Workshop”. En ce qui concerne la langue urartéenne, l’époque des grandes découvertes est loin d’être

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finie. C’est cet aspect de la recherche, éditions et collations, que j’ai pratiqué avec constance ces dernières années dans ma préparation du nouveau “Corpus des inscriptions urartéennes”, qui sera publié dans les prochains mois.1 J’avais en effet d’abord proposé une communication intitulée “Урартская наскальная грамматика и лексика”, c’est-à-dire “Grammaire et lexique rupestre urartéens”, car plusieurs fois ces dernières années j’ai eu la chance de découvrir de nouvelles formes verbales et des constructions syntactiques en interrogeant la pierre et le rocher. D’autre part, au cours des dix dernières années, plusieurs nouveaux documents sont venus enrichir le Corpus urartéen. Ils proviennent principalement de la Turquie orientale et de l’Azerbaidjan iranien. Je rappelle notamment la longue inscription sacrée du temple d’Ayanis2 (fig. 1), situé sur la côte est du lac de Van et la stèle de Movana3 à l’est du Zagros, dans la province de Urumiyeh, ainsi que d’autres inscriptions rupestres dans ces deux pays, sans oublier le Nakhichevan.4 Or, un nouveau document d’une grande importance vient d’être découvert dans les montagnes à l’est de Van. Il s’agit d’une stèle de basalte, entière, trouvée dans des circonstances encore inconnues dans le voisinage du village de Savacık (dont le vieux nom arménien est Havadzor) dans la région du Keşiş Göl (fig. 2), un lac artificiel perché dans les montagnes à l’est de Van. Elle resta intacte pendant vingt-sept siècles, mais fut malheureusement sauvagement martelée par les villageois, lors de sa découverte, dans leur folle recherche d’or caché dans la pierre. En décembre 2006 la stèle fut transportée au Musée de Van (fig. 3).5 Grâce à l’information donnée par mon collègue Oktay Belli de l’Université d’Istanbul, que je tiens à remercier, j’ai pu étudier la stèle pendant la première semaine d’avril de année 2007.

1

Salvini, M. Corpus dei testi urartei (en cinq volumes) (= CTU). Vol. I–III. Rome, 2008; Vol. IV–V en préparation. 2 Salvini, M. The Inscriptions of Ayanis. Monumental Stone Inscriptions. Çilingiroğlu, A.; Salvini, M. (eds.). Ayanis I. Ten Years’ Excavations in Rusahinili Eiduru-kai (Documenta Asiana 6). Roma, 2001, pp. 251–271. 3 André-Salvini, B.; Salvini, M. The Bilingual Stele of Rusa I from Movana (West-Azerbaijan, Iran). SMEA 44 (2002):5–66. 4 Salvini, M. Urartu. La scoperta di due iscrizioni rupestri in Iran e in Turchia. SMEA 47 (2005):241–256; Salvini, M. Eine urartäische Felsinschrift in der Region Nachičevan. ZA 88 (1998):72–77, Taf. 1–4. 5 Salvini, M. Le due stele di Rusa Erimenahi dal Keşiş-Göl. SMEA 48 (2006): 209–272.

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De façon tout à fait inattendue, ce document jette une lumière sur un problème historique posé par une autre célèbre découverte qui remonte à la fin du XIXè siècle. J’ai la chance de pouvoir dire que cent seize années plus tard ce problème est résolu. Tout commença en l’année 1891, lorsque W. Belck, au cours de sa Wissenschaftliche Erforschung Altarmeniens, découvrit la stèle qui est connue traditionnellement sous le nom de “Stèle du Keşiş Göl”;6 elle était mutilée de sa partie supérieure, mais on en comprit immédiatement la grande importance. Cette découverte joua ensuite un rôle fondemental dans les recherches urartéennes. Dans le volume 24 de la Zeitschrift für Ethnologie, en 1892, fut publiée la relation faite par Waldemar Belck et Carl Friedrich Lehmann (plus tard Lehmann-Haupt) lors de la séance du 30 avril 1892 de la Berliner Anthropologische Gesellschaft, sous le titre “Ueber neuerlich aufgefundene Keilinschriften in russisch und türkisch Armenien”. Ils y présentaient ce qui fut alors considéré comme “la plus importante des inscriptions récemment découvertes”. On comprit immédiatement qu’elle était l’œuvre d’un certain Rusa, dont le texte ne conservait pas le patronyme. Une première étude du texte fut effectuée par C. F. Lehmann(-Haupt) qui en fournit une copie autographe. La position de la stèle est décrite par Belck dans les termes suivant: “Die Inschrift befindet sich in wilder Gebirgsgegend, ca. 23 Werst östlich von Van und ca. 6 Werst vom christlichen Dorfe Toni, in dem 20 Nestorianer- und 10 Armenier-Familien in friedlicher Gemeinschaft hausen”. Ce document fut alors l’élément principal utilisé par Lehmann-Haupt et Belck pour organiser la Armenische Expedition de la Preussische Akademie der Wissenschaften en 1898–1899. Dans son grand ouvrage Armenien einst und jetzt Lehmann-Haupt décrira plus tard le lac Keşiş et la stèle qu’il avait retrouvée en 1898 dans la même position dans laquelle W. Belck l’avait vue sept ans auparavant.7 Il raconte que les habitants de Doni avaient déjà, dans l’année 1889, arraché la stèle de sa base dans l’espoir d’y trouver un trésor et qu’ils l’avaient laissée là à côté; c’est ainsi que Lehmann-Haupt put voir les deux pierres, base et stèle, l’une à côté de l’autre. 6

Lehmann-Haupt, C. F. Corpus Inscriptionum Chaldicarum. Berlin–Leipzig, 1927–1935. Projekt 141 (Taf. XXXVIII) = UKN 268 = HchI 121 = KUKN 391. Lehmann-Haupt, C. F. Armenien einst und jetzt. II/1. Berlin–Leipzig, 1926. 7 Lehmann-Haupt, C. F. Armenien einst und jetzt. II/1. Berlin–Leipzig, 1926 (19. Kapitel: Ertschek-See und Keschisch-Göl, pp. 35–54).

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Il est intéressant de lire le récit des opérations du transport de la stèle, qui pesait 3 à 4 tonnes; elle fut divisée en deux parties et fut chargée sur deux chars trainés par plusieurs buffles; elle arriva à Van la veille de Noël 1898. Par suite du partage des trouvailles de la fouille de Toprakkale, la stèle fut attribuée à l’expédition allemande, et elle se trouve depuis lors au Vorderasiatisches Museum de Berlin (fig. 4) avec les objets de Toprakkale. A partir des travaux de Lehmann-Haupt, dont le Corpus Inscriptionum Chaldicarum demeura inachevé, la stèle du Keşiş Göl fut attribuée à Rusa I, fils de Sarduri, l’adversaire de Sargon.8 Ce souverain fut donc considéré comme le constructeur du “lac de Rusa” et de la ville de Rusahinili, dont les ruines couvrent la colline de Toprakkale, près de Van. C’est en effet le contenu principal du texte de la stèle. Cette attribution fut confirmée par la suite dans les corpora de Melikišvili, de König, ainsi que dans le tout récent corpus de N. V. Harutjunjan.9 Depuis 1988 j’en ai proposé l’attribution à Rusa II, fils de Argišti.10 Pendant l’un de mes voyages de reconnaissance épigraphique, le 7 aout 2002, suivant une information du Musée de Van, j’avais découvert une nouvelle stèle (fig. 5) qui décorait l’angle d’une maison du village de Gövelek, à quelques kilomètres au nord du Keşiş Göl, et à 27 km à l’est de Van. Le jour suivant, dans une cour de ferme du même village, j’ai trouvé cet autre fragment (fig. 6) qui s’avèra être la partie inférieure de la stèle.11 L’épaisseur des deux parties correspondait précisement, et les textes respectifs étaient la continuation l’un de l’autre. Néanmoins la stèle, ainsi reconstituée, était encore privée de sa partie inférieure, et l’état du verso du deuxième fragment montrait que le texte était resté incomplet (fig. 7). On note les 3 dernières lignes vides et le texte interrompu à la conjonction e’a ‘et’. L’auteur de ce document est Rusa, fils d’Erimena, qui est considéré comme le troisième roi de ce nom12. Le texte de la stèle de Gövelek, après 8

Lehmann-Haupt, C. F. Armenien einst und jetzt. II/1. UKN II = Meликишвили, Г. А. Урартские клинообразные надписи. II. Oткрытия и публикации 1954–1970 гг. VDI 3 (1971):229–255; 4 (1971): 267– 293. HchI = König, F. W. Handbuch der chaldischen Inschriften (AfO Bh. 8). Graz, 1955–1957. 10 Salvini, M. Die urartäischen Schriftdenkmäler aus Bastam (1977–1978). Kleiss, W. (Hrsg.). Bastam 2. Ausgrabungen in den urartäischen Anlagen 1977–1978 (Teheraner Forschungen 5). Berlin, 1988, pp. 125–144 (voir p. 131, n. 50). 11 Salvini, M. Una stele di Rusa III Erimenahi dalla zona di Van. SMEA 44 (2002):115–143. 12 Salvini, M. Rusa I. II. III. RlA 11:464–466. 9

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une longue formule d’introduction sur l’intronisation de Rusa III, parle de travaux d’irrigation dans les termes suivants: “En face du mont Qilbani la terre était désertique, rien, absolument rien, ni champs de blé ni vignoble il n’y avait ici; pas un canal n’avait été tracé ici. Dès que Haldi l’eut ordonné je réalisai tout cela”. J’ai identifié la montagne Qilbani à l’Erek Dağ, qui domine toute la région. Ensuite le texte cite aussi un lac (´uini), qui est évidemment le Keşiş Göl (fig. 8). Le revers de la stèle est occupé, jusqu’à la cassure, par une prescription sacrificielle comportant une série de sacrifices d’animaux, et on y cite la ville de Rusahinili au cas directif (Rusahina=idi), mais malheureusement dans un contexte lacunaire. Sur la base de ces éléments, dans ma publication de la stèle de Gövelek (SMEA 48), j’en ai conclu que Rusa III, l’auteur assuré de la stèle de Gövelek, avait continué le travail commencé par son prédécesseur Rusa II, que je croyais être l’auteur de la stèle de Berlin. Or, la nouvelle stèle de Savacik change complètement la perspective. Elle s’est avérée immédiatement être un duplicata de la stèle de Gövelek pour la première partie du texte, et de la première stèle du Keşiş Göl (celle de Berlin) pour la deuxième partie. J’ai donc pu opérer un joint entre la stèle de Gövelek et la stèle du Keşiş Göl, ce qui permet de reconstruire une stèle de 3,60 m de hauteur, sans tenir compte de la base qui était enfoncée dans un socle qui en assurait la stabilité (fig. 9).13 Quant à la stèle de Berlin – je l’appelle désormais sous ce nom pour la distinguer des autres stèles et fragments, car toutes proviennent du Keşiş Göl –, elle ne portait pas de texte sur le revers, raison par laquelle elle avait été appuyée contre la paroi de la salle; mais il était clair que les lignes finales de la face ne pouvaient en aucun cas représenter la conclusion du texte. On en avait donc déduit que le texte continuait sur le verso, dans la partie perdue. Le texte de Lehmann-Haupt constatait la présence de lignes préparées pour l’écriture, sur le verso: “Ergab sich, daß eine ganze Reihe von Linien für Schriftzeichen auf der Rückseite eingegraben waren. Die Stelen-Rückseite war also tatsächlich in ihrem

13

Salvini, M. Le due stele di Rusa Erimenahi dal Keşiş-Göl. SMEA 48 (2006): 209–272; Salvini, M. Ein folgenreicher Textanschluss. Eine urartäische Königsinschrift im Vorderasiatischen Museum facht den wissenschaftlichen Disput an. Antike Welt 2/8:35–37.

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verlorenen oberen Teil beschrieben gewesen, aber man hatte mehr Linien gezogen, als für den Schluß der Inschrift nötig gewesen wäre”.14 C’est ce que j’ai constaté sur le revers de la stèle de Gövelek, dont la stèle de Berlin est la continuation. Nous savons maintenant, grâce au nouveau joint, que le texte du revers ne fut jamais achevé bien que la stèle, selon les témoignages, ait été érigée sur son socle. En conclusion, nous avons maintenant deux stèles du Keşiş Göl dont le texte est presque identique, mis à part quelques variantes; elles appartiennent toutes les deux à Rusa III, et je les appelle dans mon corpus Keşiş Göl 1 et Keşiş Göl 2.15 La nouvelle stèle de Savacık, qui est plus réduite en hauteur car elle est inscrite sur trois faces, recto, côté droit et verso, doit être considérée comme le texte principal qui fut copié sur l’autre stèle, plus monumentale. Celle-ci, inscrite sur le recto et en partie sur le verso, resta inachevée pour des raisons qui nous échappent. Lors de ma publication de la stèle de Gövelek j’ai remarqué les incertitudes du scribe qui a inscrit le texte, surtout sur le verso (voir fig. 7); il y a même des fautes, ce qui est rarissime chez les lapicides urartéens. Je crois d’ailleurs qu’il eut un changement de scribe au cours de la rédaction de la partie finale du texte. Telle est la situation du point de vue épigraphique; mais il convient de dire quelques mots sur les conséquences historiques de l’attribution de la stèle classique du Keşiş Göl, c’est-à-dire de la stèle de Berlin, non plus à Rusa Ier, ni à Rusa II, mais à Rusa III, fils d’Erimena. L’une des difficultés rencontrées est de savoir qui a fondé et construit Rusahinili/Toprakkale.16 Tous les savants se sont fondé naturellement sur le texte de la stèle de Berlin, là où nous lisons “j’ai imposé le nom de ‘Lac de Rusa’, j’ai tracé un canal d’ici jusqu’à Rusahinili …” et plus loin “Rusa dit: ‘quand j’ai édifié Rusahinili, quand j’ai fait ce lac artificiel, j’y ai transféré des habitants de Tušpa’ ”. L’affirmation paraît tellement claire que l’on se sent obligé de considérer Rusa Erimenahi comme celui qui a fondé Rusahinili et y a réalisé le lac artificiel pour l’approvisionnement de sa nouvelle résidence sur la hauteur de Toprakkale. Or, il est sûr, d’après ces nouveaux textes, que la figure de Rusa III sort décidément de l’ombre; et 14

Lehmann-Haupt, C. F. Armenien einst und jetzt. II/1, p. 46. CTU A 14-1 et A 14-2. 16 Seidl, U. Wer gründete Rusahinili/Toprakkale? ARAMAZD 2 (2007):137–145, a proposé Rusa Erimenahi (selon elle = Rusa II); voir dans le même volume Salvini, M. Argišti, Rusa, Erimena, Rusa und die Löwenschwänze. Eine urartäische Palastgeschichte des VII. Jh. v. Chr. Erevan, 2007, pp. 146–162 + Tables III, VI. 15

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je crois qu’il faut lui attribuer désormais la paternité de toutes les réalisations de la région du Keşiş Göl; en premier lieu le lac artificiel avec ses barrages (fig. 10) et le canal qui porte les eaux dans le lit d’un cours d’eau naturel jusqu’au pied de Toprakkale. Mais il doit également être considéré comme l’auteur de deux inscriptions rupestres de la région, celle de Kaissaran (fig. 11), connue depuis Lehmann-Haupt (qui est un simple exercice de lapicide) et celle très abimée de l’Erek Dağ (fig. 12) que j’ai publiée tout récemment. La question se pose de manière différente en ce qui concerne Toprakkale. Malgré l’affirmation de Rusa Erimenahi, i-ú mru-sa-¶i-i-ni-li ši-du-ú-li ‘lorsque j’édifiai Rusahinili’. Je crois qu’il faut attribuer la fondation de Rusahinili à Rusa II Argistihi, et cela pour les raisons suivantes. La bulle de Bastam CB Ba-6 (Ba 78–146) (fig. 13), publiée en 1988,17 contient un nom d’année: “Année dans laquelle Rusa Argištihi posa (son/le/ce?) trône à Rusahinili, en face du mont Qilbani”. Donc, Rusahinili Qilbani=kai, c’est-à-dire Toprakkale (fig. 14), existait déjà et l’on devait la différencier par rapport à l’autre Rusahinili, en face du mont Eiduru (Eiduru=kai), c’est-à-dire le site d’Ayanis, qui est en face du Süphan Dağ. On sait que Bastam et Ayanis ont été fondées par Rusa II Argištihi. Entre les deux Rusa, il y a deux générations au moins (voir la table chronologique en annexe) puisque Rusa Argištihi doit être considéré comme le fils d’Argišti, le successeur de Rusa I, qui est cité par Sargon II d’Assyrie en l’année 708. Il s’agit donc de Rusa II, qui est également le roi d’Urartu mentionné par Asarhaddon en 673/672. Par contre le roi Rusa qui envoya ses félicitations à Assurbanipal en 652 doit être identifié à Rusa III Erimenahi. Cette datation de Rusa Argištihi (Rusa II) est confirmée aussi par les données de la dendrochronologie, qui fixent dans les années 677–673 +4/–7 av. J.-C. la coupe des arbres qui formèrent les poutres du porche sacré d’Ayanis.18 17

Salvini, M. Die urartäischen Schriftdenkmäler aus Bastam (1977–1978). Kleiss, W. (Hrsg.). Bastam 2. Ausgrabungen in den urartäischen Anlagen 1977–1978. Berlin, 1988, pp. 125–144. 18 Manning, W. et al. Science 294 (2001):2534; Çilingiroğlu, A. ARAMAZD 1 (2006):135: “For example, cutting dates for major timbers from the ongoing excavations of Altan Çilingiroğlu at Ayanis from a temple of Rusa II dedicated to the god Haldi, and placed in the earlier part of the reign of this last great king of Urartu, are now placed ca. 677–673 +4/–7 B. C., which corresponds well with the approximate dates for Rusa II of ca. 685–645 B. C. derived through textual and inscriptional synchronisms with the historical Neo-Assyrian chronology.”

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Je crois que la solution de l’énigme concernant la fondation de Toprakkale consiste à croire que Rusa Argistihi, le grand constructeur des villes-forteresses de Karmir-blur, Bastam et Kefkalesi, planifia contemporainement deux villes portant son nom de Rusahinili: l’une est Ayanis, qu’il acheva à la perfection, et l’autre Toprakkale, qu’il fonda sans pouvoir en conclure la construction. Parmi les boucliers en bronze trouvés à Toprakkale, un seul appartient en effet à Rusa Argistihi, tandis que les autres sont inscrits au nom de Rusa Erimenahi. Un autre document provenant de Toprakkale joue un rôle dans cette question: la tablette de Berlin VAT 7770 (fig. 15) contient un nom d’année que j’ai proposé de traduire “Année de la ville de Rusa, fils d’Argišti, lorsque Šagaputara, roi d’Išqugulu, alla au pays de Mana à la place de Aka’a, (et) lorsque Haldi m’installa en tant que roi dans la ville de Rusahinili, en face du mont Qilbani, dans le sanctuaire BARA”.19 Ainsi le lien entre Rusa Argistihi et Toprakkale est confirmé. L’impression qui ressort de l’analyse de ces données est que Toprakkale fut la dernière des fondations de ce roi, restée inachevée. Par la suite donc Rusa III, qui se concentra sur cette résidence et sur la région du Keşiş Göl, pourra revendiquer pour lui même l’édification de Rusahinili, commencée en vérité par Rusa II. En effet, une découverte que j’ai pu faire en juillet 2007 au Musée de l’Ermitage montre que Rusa Argistihi avait très probablement construit un temple susi à Rusahinili Qilbanikai (Toprakkale) comme dans les autres villes qu’il avait fondées. Il s’agit d’un petit fragment inscrit, provenant apparemment de Toprakkale, qui est un duplicata de la grande inscription de Rusa II Argistihi à Ayanis (CTU A 12-1), ce qui montre que ce roi avait construit un temple à Toprakkale.20 Les édifices de Toprakkale, et parmi eux le temple, dont la structure ressemble fortement à celui d’Ayanis qui fut édifié par Rusa II Argištihi, ont donc été fort probablement construits ou achevés par Rusa III; et l’on peut se poser la question de la datation des célèbres bronzes de Toprakkale (fig. 16), qui faisaient partie d’un trône divin. Selon Ursula Seidl qui a étudié la question en reconstruisant le trône original d’après les statuettes de bronze éparses, il ne peut être daté avant Sennachérib (704– 19

Salvini, M. Die urartäische Tontafel VAT 7770 aus Toprakkale. AoF 34 (2007):37–50. 20 Le fragment, que j’ai publié dans SMEA 48 (2006):256–260, est inséré dans mon corpus comme CTU A 12-5a. Sur la question historique voir mon article cité plus haut dans ARAMAZD 2 (2007).

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681 av. J.-C.), dont on remarque des influences de style.21 Ceci pourrait confirmer que le trône en bronze retrouvé est bien celui qui est cité dans le nom d’année de la bulle de Bastam CB Ba-6 (Ba 78–146), citée plus haut. Une question reste ouverte: est-que le trône de bronze de Toprakkale était un trône royal ou divin? U. Seidl opte pour la deuxième hypothèse; mais si l’on compare les noms d’année de la bulle de Bastam avec la tablette VAT 7770 de Toprakkale, on note une forte analogie entre les deux formulations, ce qui fortifie l’hypothèse que la formulation de la bulle de Bastam fait reférence au transfert du gouvernement dans la nouvelle résidence de Rusahinili Qilbanikai (Toprakkale).22 Ceci ne signifie pas que le trône cité dans le nom d’année coincide avec le trône de bronze. Les nouvelles découvertes épigraphiques ont donc renouvelé la discussion sur la chronologie urartéenne du VIIème siècle. Legendes des figures Fig. 1 Fig. 2 Fig. 3 Fig. 4 Fig. 5a Fig. 5b Fig. 6 Fig. 7 Fig. 8 Fig. 9 Fig. 10 Fig. 11 Fig. 12 Fig. 13 Fig. 14

21

Détail de l’inscription du temple de Ayanis: CTU A 12-1, col. V–VI, partie gauche. Carte de la région de Van, avec les sites archéologiques et les lieux de découverte des principales inscriptions urartéennes. La stèle de Savacık de Rusa III dans le Musée de Van, CTU A 14-2. La stèle du Keşiş Göl dans le Vorderasiatisches Museum de Berlin (partie inférieure de CTU A 14-1). La nouvelle stèle de Gövelek, au moment de la découverte, en août 2002. Recto (partie supérieure de CTU A 14-1). La nouvelle stèle de Gövelek, au moment de la découverte, en août 2002. Recto (partie supérieure de CTU A 14-1). Le deuxième fragment de la stèle de Gövelek, en août 2002. Recto. Verso du deuxième fragment de la stèle de Gövelek. Le lac artificiel du Keşiş Göl (août 2007). Les deux stèles du Keşiş Göl (CTU A 14-1, et 2): reconstruction et synopse. Le barrage de nord-ouest du Keşiş Göl (août 2007). L’inscription rupestre de Kaissaran (CTU A 14-4). L’inscription rupestre de l’Erek Dağ (CTU A 14-3). Bulle inscrite de Bastam (Ba 78–146 = CTU C Ba-6). La colline de Toprakkale, près de Van, dominée par l’Erek Dağ.

Seidl, U. Der Thron von Toprakkale. Ein neuer Rekonstruktionsversuch. AMI 27 (1994):67–84; ead. Die Bronzekunst Urartus. Mainz, 2004, pp. 61–64; Wer gründete Rusahinili/Toprakkale? ARAMAZD 2 (2007):137–143 (voir n. 7). 22 Voir dans ARAMAZD 2 (2007):150 (Die Jahresnamen des Rusa Argištihi).

1024 Fig. 15 Fig. 16

Limited-corpus Languages of the Ancient Near East La tablette de Toprakkale VAT 7770 (= CTU CT Tk 1), conservée dans le Vorderasiatisches Museum de Berlin. Statuette de bronze de Toprakkale dans le Vorderasiatisches Museum de Berlin.

Annexe: Table chronologique de l’Urartu Rois assyriens

Synchronismes23

Rois urartéens

Salmanassar III (858–824 av. J.-C.)

cite Ar(r)amu l’Urartéen (années 859, 856, 844)

[aucun document d’Aramu]

Salmanassar III

cite Seduri, l’Urartéen = (année 832)

Šamši-Adad V (823–811)

cite Ušpina (année 820)

=

[aucun synchronisme] Salmanassar IV (781–772) Assur-nirari V (754–745) Teglat-phalasar III (744–727) Sargon (721–705)

cite Argištu/i

Sennachérib (704–681) Asarhaddon (681–669)

[aucun synchronisme]

=

est cité par cite Sarduri, Sardaurri = (années 743, 735?) cite Ursa, Rusa = (années 719–71324) cite Argišta (année 709) =

cite Ursa (année 673/672)

Documents indigènes de: Sarduri I, fils de Lutipri* (env. 840–830) [* aucun document de lui] Išpuini, fils de Sarduri (env. 830–820) corégence de Išpuini et Minua (env. 820–810) Minua, fils de Išpuini (env. 810–785/780) Argišti I, fils de Minua (785/780–756) Sarduri II, fils de Argišti (756 – env. 730) Sarduri II Rusa I, fils de Sarduri (II) (env. 730–713) Argišti II, fils de Rusa (713–?) [aucun synchronisme]

=

Rusa II, fils de Argišti (1ère moitié du VIIe sec.) ----------------------------------

23 Voir les synchronismes assyriens chez Fuchs, A. Urar¢u in der Zeit, sous presse dans les actes du Symposium Biainili-Urartu (München 12–14 octobre 2007). 24 La date de 713, plutôt que celle plus traditionelle de 714 pour la mort de Rusa I, est prouvée par les Annales de Sargon, année 9: Fuchs, A. Die Inschriften Sargons II. aus Khorsabad. Göttingen, 1994, p. 419, ainsi que Lanfranchi, G. B.; Parpola, S. The Correspondence of Sargon II. Part II. Letters from the Northern and Northeastern Provinces (SAA V). Helsinki, 1990, p. xxvii.

M. Salvini, Les deux stèles de Rusa III… Erimena (LÚa´uli ?)26

[aucun synchronisme] [aucun synchronisme] Assurbanipal (669–627) Assurbanipal

25

cite Rusa (année 65225) cite Ištar/Issar-duri (année 646/642)

1025

=

Rusa III, fils de Erimena

=

Sarduri (LÚa´uli ??), fils de Rusa III Sarduri III, fils de Sarduri

Voir mon interprétation du sceau d’Erimena, et les problèmes chronologiques du VIIe siècle: Salvini, M. Argišti, Rusa, Erimena, Rusa und die Löwenschwänze. Eine urartäische Palastgeschichte des VII. Jh. v. Chr. ARAMAZD 2 (2007):146–162 + Tables III, VI. 26 Nous devons prendre en considération la nouvelle dendrochronologie selon laquelle Rusahinili Eidurukai (Ayanis) a été fondée dans la deuxième moitié des années 670: Manning, W. et al. Science 294 (2001):2534; Çilingiroğlu, A. ARAMAZD 1 (2006):135.

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Limited-corpus Languages of the Ancient Near East

Fig. 1. Détail de l’inscription du temple de Ayanis: CTU A 12-1, col. V–VI, partie gauche

M. Salvini, Les deux stèles de Rusa III…

Fig. 2. Carte de la région de Van, avec les sites archéologiques et les lieux de découverte des principales inscriptions urartéennes

1027

1028

Limited-corpus Languages of the Ancient Near East

Fig. 3. La stèle de Savacık de Rusa III dans le Musée de Van, CTU A 14-2

M. Salvini, Les deux stèles de Rusa III…

1029

Fig. 4. La stèle du Keşiş Göl dans le Vorderasiatisches Museum de Berlin (partie inférieure de CTU A 14-1)

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Limited-corpus Languages of the Ancient Near East

Fig. 5a. La nouvelle stèle de Gövelek, au moment de la découverte, en août 2002. Recto (partie supérieure de CTU A 14-1)

M. Salvini, Les deux stèles de Rusa III…

1031

Fig. 5b. La nouvelle stèle de Gövelek, au moment de la découverte, en août 2002. Recto (partie supérieure de CTU A 14-1)

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Limited-corpus Languages of the Ancient Near East

Fig. 6. Le deuxième fragment de la stèle de Gövelek, en août 2002. Recto

M. Salvini, Les deux stèles de Rusa III…

Fig. 7. Verso du deuxième fragment de la stèle de Gövelek

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Limited-corpus Languages of the Ancient Near East

Fig. 8. Le lac artificiel du Keşiş Göl (août 2007)

M. Salvini, Les deux stèles de Rusa III…

1035

Fig. 9. Les deux stèles du Keşiş Göl (CTU A 14-1, et 2): reconstruction et synopse

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Limited-corpus Languages of the Ancient Near East

Fig. 10. Le barrage de nord-ouest du Keşiş Göl (août 2007)

M. Salvini, Les deux stèles de Rusa III…

Fig. 11. L’inscription rupestre de Kaissaran (CTU A 14-4)

Fig. 12. L’inscription rupestre de l’Erek Dağ (CTU A 14-3)

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1038

Limited-corpus Languages of the Ancient Near East

Fig. 13. Bulle inscrite de Bastam (Ba 78–146 = CTU C Ba-6)

M. Salvini, Les deux stèles de Rusa III…

1039

Fig. 14. La colline de Toprakkale, près de Van, dominée par l’Erek Dağ

Fig. 15. La tablette de Toprakkale VAT 7770 (= CTU CT Tk 1), conservée dans le Vorderasiatisches Museum de Berlin

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Fig. 16. Statuette de bronze de Toprakkale dans le Vorderasiatisches Museum de Berlin

Zum Namen der Göttin Kata¶zipuri mit besonderer Berücksichtigung des Kasussystems des Hattischen* Oğuz Soysal The Oriental Institute, Chicago

I. Zum Kasussystem des Hattischen Die vorliegende Untersuchung hat sich zur Aufgabe gemacht, die nominalen “Kasuserscheinungen” im Hattischen kurz zu diskutieren und deren mögliche Einflüsse auf das altanatolische Onomastikon mit einem Beispiel aus dem religiösen Bereich aufzuzeigen. Der Leser möchte dies lediglich als einen erstmaligen Versuch zum Thema werten, weitere Beiträge zu dieser Problematik sind hoffentlich von zukünftigen Arbeiten zu erwarten.0

* Das Manuskript wurde im Mai 2008 abgeschlossen. Mein Dank gebührt Herrn Dr. Thomas Zimmermann (Bilkent Universität, Ankara) für die Durchsicht des deutschen Manuskripts. Die Literaturabkürzungen entsprechen denen in HW2 und CHD. Zusätzliche Eintragungen lauten: Beiträge: Chr. Girbal, Beiträge zur Grammatik des Hattischen. Europäische Hochschulschriften: Reihe 21 (Linguistik), Bd. 50. Frankfurt am Main–Bern– New York, 1986. Drevnjaja Anatolija: Drevnjaja Anatolija. Akademija Nauk SSSR. Ordena trudovogo krasnogo znameni Institut vostokovedenija. Moskva, 1985. Etimologija: Etimologija. Principy rekonstrukcii i metodika issledovanija. Moskva. Fs. Belkıs and Ali Dinçol: Vita. Belkıs Dinçol ve Ali Dinçol’a Armağan / Festschrift in Honor of Belkıs Dinçol and Ali Dinçol (İstanbul, 2007). Fs. Košak: Tabularia Hethaeorum. Hethitologische Beiträge Silvin Košak zum 65. Geburtstag (DBH 25). Wiesbaden, 2007. Hethitische Literatur: Haas, V. Die hethitische Literatur. Texte, Stylistik, Motive. Berlin–New York, 2006. The Luwians: Melchert, H. C. (ed.). The Luwians (HdO 68). Leiden–Boston, 2003. Offizielle Religion: Offizielle Religion, lokale Kulte und individuelle Religiosität. Akten des religionsgeschichtlichen Symposiums “Kleinasien und angrenzende Gebiete vom Beginn des 2. bis zur Mitte des 1. Jahrtausends v. Chr.” Bonn, 20.– 22. Februar 2003 (AOAT 318). Münster, 2004. Onomasticon: Van Gessel, B. H. L. Onomasticon of the Hittite Pantheon. Pt. I, II, III (HdO 33). Leiden–New York–Boston–Köln, 1998, 2001.

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Die in 2004 erschienene Studie “Hattischer Wortschatz in hethitischer Textüberlieferung” (im Folgenden HWHT), 184, resümiert die Verhältnisse der Nominalfälle in der hattischen Sprache folgendermaßen: “Ein Kasussystem wie im Hethitischen, das schlechthin mit Endungen funktioniert, ist für das Hattische nicht festgelegt. Zwei hauptsächliche Obliquusendungen -(V)n und -š(u) —nebst der lautlichen Variante -d/t(u)— und ihre Kombinationen mit den Lokalpräfixen ¶a-, ka-, pe- und zi- geben ungefähr die Fälle außer den nackten Stammformen, d. h. etwa dem Nominativ, wieder”. Die bemerkenswerte Eigenschaft dieser Sprache ist besonders in der Wiedergabe der dimensionalen und richtungsanzeigenden Kasus zu beobachten, wobei Präfixe und Suffixe sich zusammen kombinieren bzw. gegenseitig modifizieren. Dies verleiht dem Hattischen eine Sonderstellung innerhalb der anderen bekannten Sprachen des Alten Orients. Akkusativ: Dieser Nominalfall ist vor allem mit der heiklen Streitfrage verbunden, ob das Hattische als eine Ergativ- oder Nominativ/Akkusativsprache zu bestimmen sei. Nach bisheriger Kenntnislage des Hattischen kann man nicht von einem echten Akkusativmorphem sprechen, sondern vielmehr von einem Anzeiger des direkten Objekts. Nur die “betonten” nominalen Objekte der transitiven Sätze werden mit Endung -šu bzw. -tu/-du versehen, während die “betonten” Adjektiva dafür bloß -š bzw. -t besitzen, d. h. ohne Aufnahme der Nominalmarkierung -u-. Ein augenscheinliches Beispiel hierfür bildet die Wendung ure=š ¶uzzaššai=šu (= in heth. Kontext: innarauwandan LÚSIMUG.A) “dén mächtigen Schmied”. Es ist aber auch möglich, daß Subjekt/Objekt-Verhältnisse in dieser Sprache einfach durch die Wörterfolge in einem transitiven Satz bestimmt sind, die nach der syntaxtischen Formel “Subjekt—Objekt— Prädikat” funktioniert. Genitiv: Als der am besten belegte und bekannte Fall im Hattischen gilt der Genitiv, der regelmäßig mit der Obliquusendung -n gekennzeichnet wird. Diese Endung kann auch mit vorangesetzten Vokalen als -an, -in und -un auftreten. Die Bespiele für den Genitivgebrauch sind nur als Teile der sogenannten “genitivus possessivus” Bildungen bezeugt, die zusammen mit den Possessivpräfixen le-, še- und te- konstruiert werden: tabarna=n le=wuur “des tabarna, sein Land = das Land von tabarna”, zari=un te=pin “des Menschen, sein Kind > das Menschenkind”. Dativ: Die möglichen Arten des Dativs in der hattischen Sprache oder deren präzise Abstufungen voneinander lassen sich zur Zeit nicht ermit1

Vgl. O. Soysal, in: Gs. Forrer 2004:616–619 (bei der Diskussion des Ablativs im Hattischen; s. auch hier unter Ablativ → 2.a und 3.a).

O. Soysal, Zum Namen der Göttin Kata¶zipuri…

1043

teln. Es scheint, daß diese Sprache im Gegensatz zum Hethitischen zur Wiedergabe der Dimensional- und Richtungsaspekte umfangreichere Ausdrucksmöglichkeiten besaß.1 Demnach wäre die mögliche Existenz mehrerer Dativbildungen im Hattischen nicht sonderlich überraschend. I) Die einfachste Bildungsweise des Dativs ist es, das indirekte Objekt des Satzes ohne irgendein Lokalpräfix auftreten zu lassen, indem es nur mit der Obliquusendung -n versehen ist. Das auslautende -n kann aber zuweilen durch einen Langvokal ersetzt werden. Ein anschauliches Beispiel dafür in einem vollständigen Satz heißt nun: [(pal)]a a=š=iya dWaašul [(t)]abarna=n kāttē (für *katten)2 (KBo 21, 110Vs.:10′=11′) = Heth. nu pier iyata tameta laba[rnai] LUGAL-i (KUB 2, 2 + KUB 48, 1 iii 27 = KUB 2, 2 + KUB 48, 1 iii 28–29) ‘Sie gaben den Überfluß und die Üppigkeit dem tabarna-König’.

Für diesen Fall ist zu notieren, daß es sich dabei um die Personenklasse (tabarna-König) handelt, und der Dativ hier keine Funktion einer Orts-/Richtungsbestimmung zu übernehmen braucht. Er könnte dann einfach als ein dativus commodi bzw. sympatheticus ‘zu, für …’ agieren. II) Als eine weitere Art von Dativ, die mit dem Lokalpräfix pe- vielmehr “richtungsanzeigend” zu sein scheint, aber sich bislang textlich nur selten bezeugen läßt, ist in folgender Bildung nebst ihrer hethitischen Übersetzung belegt: pe=wiil (KUB 2, 2 + KUB 48, 1 iii 40) = Heth. É-ri anda (KUB 2, 2 + KUB 48, 1 iii 43) ‘in das Haus hinein’.

III) Eine größere Anzahl von Dativbildungen im Hattischen wird entweder ganz einfach durch die Lokalpräfixe ¶a- ‘zu, gegen(über)?’, ka‘auf ’ bzw. zi- ‘unter’ ausgedrückt, oder durch die Kombination dieser Präfixe mit der Obliquusendung -(V)n bei Nomina gebildet, die aber gelegentlich fehlen kann. Die Beispiele hierfür lauten: 1.a) ¶a=le=kiš (KBo 37, 1 iv 14′) = Heth. ¶arša[ni=ši?] (KBo 37, 1 iii 14′) ‘zu seinem Kopfe’. 1.b) ¶a=pi=puna=n (KBo 25, 119:4′; KBo 25, 120:12′; KUB 28, 75 iii 9′, 12′, 17′, 21′, 26′, 30′) = Heth. dandukišni (KBo 25, 112 ii 18′, iii 6′; KUB 8, 41 ii 2′, 5′, 8′, 11′, 19′) ‘zur/für die Menschheit’. 1.c) ip=¶a=kiš (KUB 28, 42 Vs. lk. Kol. 8′) ‘zu unseren Köpfen’. 1.d) up=¶a=puluptā (für *pulupta=n) (KUB 28, 75 ii 17) = Heth. NINDA ¶arša(š)=šmaš) (KBo 25, 112 ii 8′) ‘zu euren / für eure Dickbro-

2

Vgl. O. Soysal, in: Fs. Belkıs and Ali Dinçol 2007:735 (m. Anm. 3). Als zusätzlicher Beleg wäre noch [taba]rnan kattē in KUB 28, 71Vs.:6′ zu nennen.

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Limited-corpus Languages of the Ancient Near East te(n)’. Bei den Beispielen 1.c und 1.d ist die Position der Possessiva ip= und up= für die 1. bzw. 2. Pl. Person in der ersten Stelle der Morphemenkette eigenschaftlich, wenn man sie mit den anderen Wendungen mit dem Possessivum li-/le- für die 3. Sg. Person (wie bei ¶a=le=kiš oben 1.a) vergleicht. In grammatischer Hinsicht läßt sich das vorliegende Phänomen einstweilen nicht überzeugend erklären, außer dem sichtbaren Numerusunterschied zwischen der Possessiva. Dies könnte jedoch auch in der Aussprache des Wortes oder der Schreibgepflogenheit der späteren heth. Textüberlieferung begründet liegen.

Ferner sind einige unsichere, aber immer noch mögliche Belege zu notieren: 1.e) ¶a=li=ta¶a(=)n (KUB 28, 4 Vs. lk. Kol. 31) ‘zu seinem ta¶a(n)’.3 1.f) ¶a=ša¶=(a)ški=n (KUB 28, 24 Vs. lk. Kol. 9′) ‘dem bösen Herzen (gegenüber)’.

Trotz der sinnvollen Deutung sollte diese Bildung nicht als ein sicheres Beispiel zum hatt. Dativ gelten, da der erste Teil ¶a=ša¶ genauso gut das mit einem Artikel versehene Substantiv ‘das Böse’ heißen kann.4 2.a) kā=¶anwaašuit=un (KUB 2, 2 + KUB 48, 1 iii 20, 24) = Heth. =šan GIŠ DAG-ti (KUB 2, 2 + KUB 48, 1 iii 22, 25) ‘auf den Thron’. 2.b) kā=tarū (für taru=n zu GN Taru) (KUB 28, 7 Vs. lk. Kol. 1) ‘auf/über Taru’.

Ferner sind zu notieren: 2.c) kā=mal¶ip (KUB 28, 77 + KBo 25, 118 i 11) (wobei eine modifierende Endung fehlt) ‘auf / über das gute …’. 2.d) ka=neu=n (oder ka=ne=un) (KUB 28, 37 Rs. r. Kol. 2) 2.e) kā=par=wuur (KUB 1, 17 ii 21) (wobei eine modifierende Endung fehlt) ‘auf/über die tausend(e) Länder’. Die dazu gehörige Form kā=par=wuun (KUB 1, 17 iii 55) könnte andererseits möglicherweise als eine assimilierte Schreibung für die vollständigere kā=par= *wuur=*un angesehen werden. 2.f) eš=wuur kā=ta¶ kā=akza=aš=put (für kā=*ša¶ kā=*kaza a=š=put) (KBo 37, 23 ii 21′–22′) ‘Sie streckten die Länder auf das Böse und

3

Schwerlich zum Verbalstamm ¶an ‘öffnen’ gehörig, wie etwa Schuster, H.-S. HHB II (2002):628, 633 (Anm. 1273) denkt; s. Soysal, O. BiOr 61 (2004):377. Auch eine Interpretation ¶a=li=ta¶=an für ¶a=li=*ša¶=an ‘zu seinem Bösen’ wäre mehr als unwahrscheinlich, da die gut belegte Obliquusform von ša¶ eigentlich *ša¶=in lautet. 4 Siehe dazu HWHT 217.

O. Soysal, Zum Namen der Göttin Kata¶zipuri…

1045

Blut? nieder’ oder ‘Sie ließen die Länder auf dem Bösen und Blut (gelegt) zu sein’.5 2.g) ka=ta¶=in (für ka=*ša¶=in) (KUB 28, 98 iii 14′) (dessen heth. Entsprechung *=šan idalui šēr zu erwarten wäre) ‘auf das Böse’.6 Diese Bildung funktioniert an sich genau nach dem bekannten Modell kā=¶anwaašuit=un ‘auf den Thron’ (hier → III.2.a), obgleich das Präfix dort korrekterweise mit plene ka-a- wiedergegeben ist.

Ferner sind die folgenden Bildungen zu notieren: 2.h) ka=takum=un (für ka=*takumi=un) (KUB 44, 26 Vs. 9′; KUB 28, 24 Vs. lk. Kol. 8′; KBo 37, 3 + KUB 28, 87 Vs. 9′) ‘auf den Zauberer’.7 3.a) zi=le=¶a(=)par(=)šip=un (KBo 21, 82 i 14′) ‘unter sein ¶aparšip’ (oder ‘unter seine tausend(e) šip?’). 3.b) zi=le=kpi=n (für zi=le=*kip=*in) (KBo 21, 82 i 14′) ‘unter sein kip (= Schutz?)’. 3.c) zi=kuru=n (oder zi=kur=un) (KUB 28, 86 + KUB 48, 23 iii/v 10) ‘unter kur(u)’. 3.d) zi=li=kuru=n (oder zi=li=kur=un) (KUB 28, 53 iv 11′) ‘unter sein kur(u)’.

Lokativ: Es ist den bisherigen Belegen in den hattisch-hethitischen Bilinguetexten zu entnehmen, daß die geographischen Eigennamen im Hattischen ohne irgendeine Lokativaufnahme erscheinen, indem sie mit ihren endungslosen Formen vorliegen: Hatt. URULa¶zan (KBo 37, 1 i 3) = Heth. URULi¶zini (KBo 37, 1 ii 2) ‘in der Stadt Li¶zina’. Obgleich ein ortsbestimmender Kasus im Hattischen nicht mit letzter Klarheit ausfindig gemacht werden kann, läßt sich doch eine lokative Nuancierung bei Nomina durch die Kombination der Lokalpräfixe ¶a-, ka- und zi- mit Nomi5

Zu hierfür vermutetem Nomen *kaza ‘Blut’ vgl. das adjektivische kazza ‘blutfarbig?, rot?’ (HWHT 288). Auf die Schwierigkeiten der Trennung beider Verben put ‘sein’ und putu ‘niederstrecken’ in mehreren Fällen ist in HWHT 304 hingewiesen. 6 Die Bildung kata¶ läßt sich kaum auf das Substantiv katta¶ ‘Königin’ beziehen (so richtig bei H.-S. Schuster, HHB II 183–184, 541); die Eintragungen für kata¶in in HWHT 287, 541, wären nun dementsprechend zu korrigieren. Die Einfach- oder Doppelschreibung eines inlautenden Konsonanten wirkt im Hattischen manchmal auch morphologisch dahingehend entscheidend, ob es sich dabei um ein Nomen oder Verbum handelt. Dieses Verhältnis ist beispielsweise zwischen dem Verbalen kate (= ka=te) ‘darauf legen’ und Nominalen katte ‘König’ zu beobachten (HWHT 545). 7 Es ist aber nicht eindeutig, ob das anlautende ka- hier ein Präfix ist oder dem Nominalstamm zugehört. Eine selbständige Form *takumi- ist übrigens bislang nicht belegbar; s. O. Soysal BiOr 61 (2004):368. Das Beispiel ka=takum=un wäre demnach nur unter Vorbehalt aufzunehmen.

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nalsuffix -i (-e) vermuten, wie sie bei den nachstehenden Anwendungen zu spüren ist: 1.a) ¶a=nu=ni=š¶aw=i (KBo 37, 11 i 7) ‘beim … Gott’; vgl. die formal ähnliche Bildung zi=nu=ni=š¶aw=i (hier → 3.a). 1.b) ¶a=waa=š¶ap=i (KUB 28, 75 ii 22) = Heth. DINGIR.MEŠ=nan/DINGIR. MEŠ=naš ištarna) (KBo 25, 112 iii 11′; KBo 25, 112 ii 12′, 19′) ‘bei/unter den Göttern’. Diese Deutung ist durch die heth. Entsprechung gesichert. 1.c) ¶a=wuur=i[…?] (KUB 28, 16 + Vs. r. Kol. 7′b) etwa ‘im Lande?’. Der Beleg hat allerdings keine hethitische Übersetzung. 1.d) ¶a=zāril=i (KUB 28, 16 + Vs. lk. Kol. 7′a) ‘beim Menschenkind, unter der Menschheit” (das Nomen zaril ist mit Maskulinum -l markiert)’. 2.a) kā=la(=)waa=e (KBo 37, 1 i 49) = Heth. =šan paššui Or. 90/1693 ii 4′ ‘auf dem Postament’. Die Bedeutung ist gesichert durch die heth. Entsprechung.8 Dazu gehörig ist wohl noch die alternierende Schreibung ka=la(=)ba=e (KUB 28, 71 Rs. lk. Kol. 4′). 2.b) kā=li=šakil=i (KBo 2, 24 Vs. r. Kol. 7′); ohne heth. Entsprechung; dürfte aber etwa ‘auf/bei seinem Herzen’ heißen. 2.c) kā=mu¶al=e (KBo 37, 1 iv 7) =? Heth. =kan ¶ašši Or. 90/1693 ii 13′ ‘am/ beim Herd’. Es ist zu vermuten, daß das eigentliche Nomen für den ‘Herd’ im Hattischen mu¶ ist,9 und dies mit dem Suffix -(a)l in die (belebte?) Maskulinklasse überführt wird; vgl. den Ortsnamen URUTimu¶ala in den heth. Dokumenten, der sich innerhalb des Hattischen sinnvoll als ti=mu¶al=a ‘sein (Sg. n.) Herd’ analysieren läßt, wobei das Suffix -a auch eine spätere heth. Thematisierung darstellen kann. 2.d) kā=šail=i (KBo 37, 94 Rs. 7) ‘bei/mit/neben dem Herrn’.

Zu beachten sind ferner: 2.e) ka=p=waaril=i (KBo 37, 11 i 17, 18). Diese Bildung könnte sowohl nominaler (zu Pl. m. Form von paraiu ‘Priester’) wie auch verbaler (zu waaril) Natur sein.10 Wenn die zweite Möglichkeit zutrifft, heißt sie ungefähr ‘bei/unter den Priestern’. 2.f) ga=ura=nti=u (für ga=ura=*e/i?=nti=u) (KUB 28, 6 Vs. lk. Kol. 10′) = Heth. PÚ-i šer artari (KUB 28, 6 Vs. r. Kol. 10′) ‘der Apfelbaum steht auf dem Brunnen’. Eine äußerst verderbte Textüberlieferung in KUB 28, 6 bedarf mehrerer kritischer Interpretationen zur vorliegenden hatt. Bildung, wonach zwei unmittelbare Wörter, nämlich nominales ga=ura und verbales nti=u, zusammengekoppelt sind, und anstelle von regularem ka(-a)- einmaliges Präfix ga- auftritt. Es ist auch zu vermuten, daß bei der 8

Der Wortstamm für ‘Postament’ im Hattischen lautet weder waae noch lawaa, so nach HWHT 319 bzw. BiOr 61 (2004):367 sondern waa, so daß beide Angaben nun zu korrigieren wären. 9 Dies wäre eine weiterführende Feststellung gegenüber HWHT 295. 10 In HWHT 321 (sub waaril) als Nomen aufgenommen.

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hierfür zu erwartenden Lokativform ga=ura=*e/i als Folge ihrer Verbindung mit dem folgenden nti=u auch eine lautliche Assimilation von ae/i > a stattgefunden hat. 2.g) ka=zi=škil=i (KBo 37, 17:6′). Der Beleg hat keine hethitische Übersetzung, so daß man für ihn mehrere Interpretationsmöglichkeiten vorschlagen könnte: Ein einfaches Nomen im Lokativ ka=zi=škil=i ‘auf dem/beim … Herzen?’11 oder vielmehr eine weiter substantivierte Formation ka=zi= škil=i ‘was (das) unter dem Herzen (ist)’.12 Daß ka- hier kurz geschrieben ist, würde seinen Charakter als ein präformatives Element bzw. Bildungspräfix bei Nomina befürworten. In diesem Punkt ist es maßgebend, zwei ähnliche Präfixe ka- funktionsmäßig voneinander zu trennen. Denn das Hattische kennt neben diesem ka- auch ein richtungsanzeigendes ka-, das anscheinend durch die Graphie ka-a- gekennzeichnet ist.13 3.a) zi=nu=ni=š¶aw=i (KUB 28, 18 Vs. r. Kol. 5) ‘unter dem … Gott’; vgl. die formal ähnliche Bildung ¶a=nu=ni=š¶aw=i (hier → 1.a).

Ablativ: Dieser Fall funktioniert im Hattischen anscheinend wiederum durch eine Kombination der drei Lokalpräfixe ¶a-, ka- und zi-, aber diesmal mit einer weiteren Obliquusendung -tu/-šu. Daß der Ablativanzeiger allein die Endung -tu/-du gewesen sei, wie es im allgemeinen akzeptiert wurde, möchte man jetzt bezweifeln, weil -tu als lautliche Variante von -šu sonst auf das direkte Objekt des transitiven Satzes hinweist, und somit als eine primitive Art von “Akkusativ” angesehen werden muß; s. oben. 1.a) ¶a=kantiuz=tu (KUB 28, 4 Vs. lk. Kol. 21 // KUB 28, 5 Vs. lk. Kol. 27′) = Heth. NA4pirunaz (KUB 28, 4 Vs. r. Kol. 26′) ‘aus dem Felsen’. 1.b) ¶a=ziuz=[tu] (KUB 28, 5 Vs. lk. Kol. 26′ // KUB 28, 4 Vs. lk. Kol. 21) (bietet ein vollständiges, aber fehlerhaftes ¶a=tili=tu) = Heth. ÚUR.SAG-a[z?] (KUB 28, 4 Vs. r. Kol. 26) ‘aus dem Berge’. 2.a) ka=ya¶=du/šu (KUB 28, 3 + KUB 48, 61 Vs. lk. Kol. 9; KUB 28, 4 Vs. lk. Kol. 8; KUB 28, 5(+) Vs. lk. Kol. 10′) = Heth. nepišaz (KUB 28, 5(+) Vs.

11

Wenn der Bedeutungsansatz ‘klein’ für das hatt. Adjektiv zi zutrifft (HWHT 327), könnte man hierfür von einer Übersetzung wie ‘auf dem/beim kleinen? Herzen’ ausgehen. Daß dieser Analyse zufolge hier kaum der Lokalanzeiger zi‘unter’ vorliegen kann, ist einsichtig, da das anlautende Morphem ka- ‘auf, über’ für den vorliegenden Fall die Funktion des Ortsbezugs bereits übernommen hat. 12 Als eine dritte Möglichkeit zum Verständnis dieser Form besteht immer noch ein verbales ka=*ti šakil=i ‘liegt auf/bei dem Herzen’. 13 Da die Pleneschreibung bei einem Wort nach hethitischem Sprachgefühl meistens nur (ortho)graphische Relevanz hat, wäre es zu vermuten, daß diese morphologische Feinheit in der heth. Textlieferung nicht ganz beachtet worden ist, so daß sich das präformative Element ka- und das Lokalpräfix ka-a- nicht sauber voneinander trennen lassen; vgl. auch die Belege für Dativ → III.2a–h.

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r. Kol. 10′) ‘vom Himmel herab’ eigentlich ‘von dort (Himmel) hierher (herauf)’; vgl. die deiktische Alternation zi=ya¶=du.14 2.b) ka=liš=tu (KUB 28, 77 + KBo 25, 118 i 12) (zu liš ‘Jahr’ und bedeutet etwa ‘von Jahr(en) her’?). 3.a) zi=ya¶=du/šu (KUB 28, 3 + KUB 48, 61 Vs. lk. Kol. 16; KUB 28, 4 Vs. lk. Kol. 14; KUB 28, 5(+) Vs. lk. Kol. 18′; KUB 28, 4 Vs. lk. Kol. 15; KUB 28, 5(+) Vs. lk. Kol. 20′) = Heth. nepišaz (KUB 28, 4 Vs. r. Kol. 15′, 16′) ‘vom Himmel hinab’ eigentlich ‘von hier (Himmel) dorthin (hinab)’; vgl. die deiktische Alternation ka=ya¶=du. 3.b) zi=kup=tu (KBo 37, 23 i 6′) (zum Nomen kup, das im Hattischen einen Körperteil kennzeichnet). 3.c) ta=zi=ya¶=du (KUB 28, 6 Vs. lk. Kol. 13′) = Heth. mišriw[anza] (KUB 28, 6 Vs. r. Kol. 12′). Die heth. Entsprechung “glänz[end]” scheint eine freie Übersetzung vom Hattischen ‘das aus dem Himmel (ist), das Himmlische’ zu sein.15 Der nominale Komplex ta=zi=ya¶=du, der personifiziert möglicherweise auch im Götternamen dTazziyašu auftritt, ist insofern wichtig, da er einen exemplarischen Fall besonderer Art von Wortbildung im Hattischen, und zwar ein Denominativum, darstellt, wobei ein im Kasus stehendes Nomen durch ein nominales Präfix (in diesem Fall ta-) weiter substantiviert wird.16 Primärkasus Akkusativ?

Genitiv

Dativ1

Präfixe

Keine

Keine

Keine

Endung

=šu/=tu

=n kombiniert mit darauffolgenden Possessiva le= še=/te=

=n

Richtungs- und Lokalanzeigende Kasus Dativ2 Lokativ Ablativ ¶a= ¶a= ¶a= ka= ka= ka= zi= zi= zi= =n =e/=i =šu/=tu

II. Zum Namen der Göttin Kata¶zip/wuuri = Kam(ma)rušepa Trotz ihrer schematischen Züge, die zwei verschiedenen Kasus im Hattischen entsprechen, bedeuten die oben angeführten Beispiele ka=zi=škil=i (Lokativ → 2.g) und ta=zi=ya¶=du (Ablativ → 3.c) mehr als zwei im Kasus 14

Ausführlich diskutiert von O. Soysal, in: Gs. Forrer, 616–619; vgl. auch idem, BiOr 61 (2004):371. 15 HWHT 244 (unter ta2-); ferner Soysal, O. Anatolica 31 (2005):195. 16 Die Vorsilbe ta- ist an dieser Stelle sicherlich kein Richtungsanzeiger, da die funktionsähnlichen Morpheme ta- und zi- nicht zusammen erscheinen können; vgl. den Fall bei ka=zi=škil=i, diskutiert oben.

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stehende Wörter, da sie sich noch durch die präformativen Elemente kaund ta- weiter substantiviert befinden. So können sie nun nach ihrer Bildungsweise wesentlich zum besseren Verständnis der Nominalformation im Hattischen beitragen. In diesem Zusammenhang ist der Eigenname Kata¶zip/wuuri von besonderem Interesse. Kata¶zip/wuuri war ursprünglich eine hattische Göttin, die später auch in das idg. hethitisch-luwische Pantheon mit Namen Kamrušepa integriert wurde.17 Doch ihr Name hat sich im Palaischen, der nördlicheren Schwestersprache des Hethitischen und Luwischen, wohl bedingt durch geographisch-ethnische Ursachen, gänzlich dem hattischen Vorbild getreu als Kata¶zip/wuuri bewahrt, wenn man der Textüberlieferung von Boğazköy vertrauen will.18 Die hattische Bezeichnung dieser Göttin erscheint in Dokumenten aus Boğazköy und Ortaköy in folgenden Schreibungen:19 1) Ohne Götterdeterminativ und in Stammform: ka-ta¶-zi-pí-ri, ka-ta¶-zi-u̯uu-ri. 2) Mit Götterdeterminativ und in Stammform: dKa-ta¶-zi-pu-u-ri, dKa-at!-ta¶-zipu-ri, dKa-ta¶-zi-u̯uu-ri, dKa-ta¶-zi-i-u̯uu-ri, dKa-ta¶-zi-u̯uu-u-ri. 3) Mit Kasusendungen: dKa-ta¶-zi-pu-ri-šu (= dKata¶zipuri=šu), dKa-ta¶-zi-u̯uu-reen (dKata¶ziwuure=n), dKa-ta¶-zi-u̯uu-re-e-šu (= dKata¶ziwuure=šu).

Die originale hattische Bildung dKa-ta¶-zi-u̯uu/pu-(u)-ri ist, wie oben angedeutet, auch in den palaischen Dokumenten religiösen Inhalts, einschließlich Ritualen, Hymnen und Mythen (CTH 751, 752) sowie Festritualen zum Kult von Ziparwa unter palaischem Einfluß (CTH 643, 750) aufzuspüren,20 welche in mehreren jüngeren Kopien (Jh., Sjh.), aber auch

17

Zur Göttin Kata¶zipuri/Kamrušepa s. G. Frantz-Szabó, in: RlA 5:351–352, 478; Toporov, V. N. Etimologija 1983 (1985):146–160; idem in: Drevnjaja Anatolija (1985):106–127; H. Klengel, in: Fs. Pugliese Carratelli (1988):105–107; Haas, V. Gesch. Relig. (1994):152, 200, 261, 276, 310, 412, 438–441, 512, 517, 611, 613–615, 620, 715–716, 881, 900–901; Klinger, J. StBoT 37 (1996):155–159; Schuster, H.-S. HHB II 182–184, 187, 220, 238, 322, 370–372, 421, 474–475, 494, 578–579, 647; Haas, V. Materia. I (2003):4–5, 17; idem. Die hethitische Literatur (2006):104, 205. Belege zur Namensschreibung aufgelistet bei: van Gessel, B. H. L. Onomasticon. I (1998):217ff., 235ff.; Soysal, O. HWHT 287, 541ff. (mit sämtlicher Literatur). 18 Zu Kata¶zip/wuuri anhand des palaischen Textkorpus s. Kammenhuber, A. OLZ 50 (1955):369, 374; eadem. BSL 54 (1959):26, 27 sowie RHA 17 (fasc. 64 [1959]):6, 17, 21, 77–78; Carruba, O. StBoT 10 (1970):59; idem. Pal. (1972):38, 48. 19 Die Belegstellen sind bereits in HWHT 541ff. angeführt, die hier nicht wiederholt zu werden brauchen. 20 Einmal auch in fehlerhafter Schreibung [dKa-ta¶-z]i-u̯aa!-u-ri in KBo 53, 129 lk. Kol. 6′.

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in älteren Schriften überliefert sind. Beispielsweise erscheint der Gebrauch Ka-ta¶-zi-pu-ri in den alt- und mittelhethitischen Handschriften.21 Bemerkenswert ist die onomastische Erscheinung, daß Kata¶zip/wuuri nicht selten auch in hethitischen Dokumenten auftaucht (CTH 370, 458, 732), die sonst dafür die Form Kamrušepa gebrauchen. Die Sprachstufe und Kultschicht jener Texte mit Kata¶zip/wuuri lassen sich meist mit älteren Datierungen verbinden: dKa-ta¶-zi-pu-(u)-ri-iš erscheint zwar in der jungen Abschrift KUB 56, 17 Vs. 4, Rs. 1, die aber auch ein mh. Duplikat KBo 31, 92 besitzt.22 Die gleiche Graphie findet man auch in den jh. Überlieferungen des Úutuši Rituals,23 dessen Vorlage sprachlich sicher aus althethitischer Zeit stammt. Den ältesten Beleg mit der Schreibung d Ka-ta¶-zi-u̯uu-ri innerhalb des Hethitischen findet man im fragmentarischen Kontext der schwerverständlichen mythologischen Komposition KBo 20, 59:8′ und (13′), die im mittelhethitischen Duktus verfaßt ist. Im Vergleich zu Kata¶zip/wuuri scheint die Verwendungssphäre des Namens Kamrušepa mit dessen Schreibvarianten Kammarušepa und Kamrušipa umfangreicher zu sein. Die Niederschriften der heth.-luw. Schriftzeugnisse, die diese Namensform gebrauchen, weisen zudem noch jüngere Datierungen auf, indem sie eine Zeitspanne vom Mittelhethitischen bis zum Spätjunghethitischen umfassen. Kamrušepa erscheint nämlich: d

1) In den einleitenden Passagen zweier Ritualtexte, die jeweils in der Form hattisch-hethitischer Bilingue gestaltet sind und ein Mytholegem aus dem hatt. Milieu enthalten, wo Kamrušepa das heth. Pendant von Kata¶ziwuuri präsentiert (CTH 726, 727). 2) In mehreren religiösen Kompositionen der “erzürnten und verschwundenen Gottheit”, welche in der Schreibtradition von Boğazköy am bestens durch den “Telipinu Mythos” vertreten sind (CTH 324, 325, 335). 3) In den Mythologemen als Teil (magischer) Rituale bzw. Beschwörungen, oder in der Einleitung einiger Zaubersprüche (CTH 336, 338, 370, 390, 395, 434, 441, 457, 732, 764, 765, 767, 770).24 4) Gelegentlich unter anderen Göttern als Opferempfänger, z. B. in KBo 11, 22 Vs. iii 5; KBo 45, 214 Vs. 13′; KUB 43, 23 Rs. 37′; VS 28, 11 ii 17; VS 28, 33 Vs. iii 1–2. 21

Beispielsweise KBo 17, 35Rs.? iii 8′ (Mh.), KUB 35, 165Rs.:26 (Ah. oder Mh.), KBo 8, 74 + KUB 32, 117 + KBo 19, 156 iii 19′ (Ah.). 22 Košak, S. ZA 78 (1988):146; der Beleg zitiert dort als noch unpubliziertes 46/f. 23 KBo 13, 106 i 8, 9 und KUB 28, 82+ i (8); zum Text s. jetzt Polvani, A. M. in: Offizielle Religion (2004):374f. 24 Zu Kamrušepa in Kompositionen dieser Art, aber vorwiegend kizzuwatnäischen Ursprungs, s. Haas, V. Or NS 40 (1971):419–424; Haas, V.; Wilhelm, G., AOAT S 3 (1974):24–26.

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5) Einmal in der Götteraufzählung in KUB 14, 13 i 9.

Auch die textchronologische Aufgliederung einzelner Schreibungen, einschließlich derjenigen aus dem Luwischen bzw. mit Luwismen, ergibt folgendes Bild: dKam-ma-ru-še-pa (Mh., Jh.), dKam-ru-še-pa (Mh., Jh., Sjh.), d Kam-ru-ši-pa (Jh., Sjh.). Unter Berücksichtigung aller obengenannten Informationen lassen sich das sprachliche Alter und Milieu der beiden Namen der Göttin wie folgt ermitteln: 1) Kata¶zip/wuuri (hattischer Herkunft): Belegt im Palaischen und Hethitischen, aber nie im Luwischen (seit ah. Duktus). 2) Kam(ma)rušepa (unbekannten Ursprungs): Bezeugt im Hethitischen und Luwischen, aber nie im Palaischen (erst seit mh. Duktus und Sprachstufe).

Angesichts der Tatsache, daß die Hethiter in ihren ältesten Texten, z. B. im Palaischen, die ursprüngliche Form Kata¶zip/wuuri verwendet hatten, sollte Kam(ma)rušepa eher als ein jüngeres Sprachprodukt unter luwischem Einfluß angesehen werden,25 der sowohl in der hethitischen Gesellschaft wie auch in der Schreibtradition von Boğazköy erst in der mittelhethitischen Periode wirksam wurde. Demnach empfiehlt sich, die Analyse und Deutung von Kam(ma)rušepa in erster Linie innerhalb des Luwischen vorzunehmen.26 25

Daß die Bildung Kam(ma)rušepa gegenüber Kata¶zip/wuuri jünger sein soll, dürfte auch durch die Alternation zwischen zwei Exemplaren des Úutuši Rituals KUB 28, 82+ i 8 ([dKata¶zi]puri; Jh.) und KUB 41, 7 i 2′ (dKamrušipaš; Sjh.) eine weitere Unterstützung finden. 26 In diesem Zusammenhang soll die Glaubwürdigkeit der bislang unbewiesenen, aber in der Literatur öfters ausgesprochenen Vermutung über das Überlieferungsalter von Kam(ma)rušepa und deren Namen in Frage gestellt werden. Sicher unzutreffend ist die Schlußfolgerung von G. Kellerman, in: Fs. Güterbock2 (1986):120–121 (mit Rückverweis auf A. Goetze und O. R. Gurney), wenn die Autorin sie in folgender Weise formuliert: “(…) one may safely maintain that Kamrušepa is a Hittite goddess of magic, known from the Old Hittite period”; ähnlich M. Hutter, in: The Luwians (2003):230. Bereits hatte Gurney, O. R. Schweich (1977):16 (Anm. 5), diesbezügliche Kenntnislage ganz einleuchtend resümiert: “Kamrusepa and Askasepa are among the deities celebrated by the ‘singer of Kanesh’, but they are not attested in the Old Assyrian texts or in the Old Kingdom, and Kamrusepa at least is found mainly in texts of a Luwian or Kizzuwadnean character”. Daß der Name Kamrušepa in den heth. religiösen Dokumenten mit verschiedenen “Göttern von Kaniš” oder den “Sängern von Kaniš” verbunden ist (vgl. zuletzt A. Archi, in: Offizielle Religion 22, 24), dürfte sicher nicht als Indiz für die Verbindung der Göttin unter diesem Namen mit vor- und frühhethitischen Zeiten bewertet werden, da man bei der Bildung Kam(ma)rušepa jederzeit mit

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Die Rolle von Kata¶zipuri/Kamrušepa innerhalb des altanatolischen Götterkreises im 2. Jahrtausend ist den mythologisch-religiösen Texten aus der Hethiterzeit eindeutig zu entnehmen. Diese Göttin tritt meistens mit der Pflicht auf, eine magische Reinigung zu vollziehen, die stark mit den Ritualangelegenheiten verbunden ist und sowohl für die Götter wie auch für die Sterblichen, einschließlich der Menschheit und Tierwelt, lebensnotwendig sein kann. Kata¶zipuri/Kamrušepa zeichnet sich dabei insbesondere durch ihre (Zauber-)sprüche aus.27 Die literarische Darstellung ihrer diesbezüglichen Mitwirkung in den mythologischen Texten, bzw. Ritualen ist mit einem festen Schema verbunden, wobei sie ein wohlbekanntes Motiv der hattischen Mythologeme als Teil der Reinigungs- und Heilungsbeschwörungen darstellt: Kata¶zipuri/Kamrušepa blickt vom Himmel hinab, sieht die Menschheit oder Tierwelt auf der Erde in einer unglücklichen bzw. unheilvollen Situation und beginnt zu sich selbst zu sprechen, wobei ihre Rede im wesentlichen aus der nochmaligen Beschreibung der bereits zuvor dargestellten Ereignisse besteht. Es folgen dann Ritualhandlungen, um die unheilvolle Situation zu bereinigen.28 Diese informativen Einzelheiten würden einstweilen zur einer mittelhethitischen Modernisierung bzw. Umnennung der ursprünglichen Bezeichnung Kata¶zip/wuuri rechnen sollte. Wie oben angedeutet, ist der Name Kam(ma)rušepa innerhalb der zeitgenössischen Zeugnisse des althethitischen Schriftums bisher nicht belegbar. 27 Kamrušepa wird in der Literatur vorwiegend als “Zaubergöttin”, bzw. “Beschwörungsgöttin” oder “Heilgöttin” (G. Frantz-Szabó, in: RlA 5:351) genannt, sie ist aber von V. Haas in verschiedener Weise qualifiziert: Gesch. Relig. 517: “Haus- und Herdgöttin”; Materia. I 102: “Herdgöttin”; Die hethitische Literatur 104: “die zauberkundige Göttin des häuslichen Herdes”, 350: “eine hethitischluwische Haus- und Heilgöttin”. Wie wir unten noch zu erörtern haben, entspricht der Hauptcharakter von Kata¶zip/wuuri bzw. Kamrušepa eher einer “Zauber-/Beschwörungsgöttin”, so daß sich die restlichen sekundären Qualifizierungen für sie erübrigen. 28 Siehe dazu G. F. del Monte, in: Fs. Meriggi2. I (1979):109–120; Girbal, Chr. Beiträge (1986):20ff., 52–54; Soysal, O. NABU 2002/7; idem. in: Fs. Popko 328 (m. Anm. 36), ArAn 5 (2002):182 (m. Anm. 35), sowie in Gs. Forrer 615–616; Schuster, H.-S. HHB II 474–475. Obwohl dies in erster Linie als ein markierendes Motiv für die Mythologeme aus dem hattischen Umfeld gilt, findet man es doch seit dem Mittelhethitschen auch in religiösen Kompositionen mit Luwismen, ja sogar in luw.-hurr. Ritualbeschwörungen aus Kizzuwatna, wo dieselbe Göttin, jedoch diesmal ausschließlich mit Namen Kamrušepa, gleiche Funktionen ausübt, wie z. B. in KUB 17, 8 (CTH 457.1.A), KBo 43, 223 + KUB 35, 107 + KBo 9, 127 + KUB 36, 41 (CTH 764.I.A). Zum Thema vgl. auch O. Soysal, in: Fs. Popko 322 (Anm. 19), 331–332 (Anm. 44) und s. noch unten.

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Schlußfolgerung führen, Kata¶zipuri/Kamrušepa sei hauptsächlich eine Heilgöttin gewesen. Doch existieren einige Umstände, die diesem Urteil ernsthaft widersprechen. Erstens, Kata¶zipuri/Kamrušepa besitzt auch eine von den Menschen gefürchtete Eigenschaft: Ihre (Zauber-)sprüche sollten nicht in das Haus hineingelangen, wie man in einer Wunschaussage der hatt.-heth. Bilingue KBo 37, 129 liest. Zweitens ist aufgrund eines Fragmentes aus Ortaköy zur gleichen Textkomposition30 zu vermuten, daß ihr hattischer Name zuweilen mit der Bezeichnung katakumi ‘zauberkräftig; Zauberer’ (Heth. alwanzena-) in dieser Sprache gleichgesetzt wird, da auch dessen Sprüche für menschliche Wesen gewiß als unangenehm und nachteilig empfunden werden können. Es empfiehlt sich deswegen, Kata¶zipuri/Kamrušepa in erster Linie als eine Beschwörungs- bzw. Zaubergöttin zu betrachten und nicht unbedingt als eine Heilgöttin oder dergleichen.31 Die bisherigen Etymologie-, Analyse- und Deutungsversuche beider Namen Kata¶zipuri (Hatt.) und Kamrušepa (Heth./Luw.) in jeweiligen Sprachen erwiesen sich als nicht sonderlich befriedigend und beruhen lediglich auf Vermutungen. Kamrušepa wurde beispielsweise mit dem heth. Wort kammara- (c.) ‘Dunst, Qualm’ in Verbindung gebracht,32 wo29 In der hatt. Passage KBo 37, 1 iv 18′–19′ lautet es: [¶a=š]a¶ teš=te=ta=nu lē=alēp/[pala? dK]ata¶ziwuure=n šē=alēp ‘[das B]öse möge nicht hineinkommen, nämlich seine Worte, [auch] die Worte von Kata¶ziwuuri!’. 30 Eine Textbearbeitung mit A. Süel ist vorgesehen. 31 Der neulich von D. Groddek sowie A. M. Polvani, in: Fs. Košak (2007):328ff., bzw. 569ff., diskutierte Text KBo 43, 4+ Vs.? ii 5′ spricht überraschenderweise von einem eventuellen Todesfall der Göttin Kamrušepa. 32 Diese Ansicht wurde seinerzeit von Laroche, E. Rech. (1947):67 (jedoch noch ohne Kenntnis der Bedeutung von kammara-) und von Goetze, A. Language 29 (1953):266 m. Anm. 21, vertreten und hat —trotz der späteren Einwände von Kammenhuber, A. KZ 77 (1961):183f.— eine höhere Wahrscheinlichkeit für sich. Denn der Name von Kamrušepa kommt auch in der Vollgraphie dKammarušepa vor, obwohl der Auslaut -u des vorderen Bestandteils des Namens dabei einstweilen unerklärt bleibt; zur Problematik vgl. auch A. Kammenhuber, a. a. O. Die Wahrscheinlichkeit liegt auf der Hand, daß *kam(ma)ru- möglicherweise ein luw. Wort als Entsprechung von kammara- im Hethitischen wäre. Eine eventuelle luw. Herkunft von Kam(ma)rušepa aufgrund des Alters und Milieus der Beleglage dieses Namens ist bereits oben ausgesprochen. Ein gegenteiliges Argument dafür könnte aber insofern eingeworfen werden, daß sich nämlich im bislang bekannten Wortschatz des Luwischen kein Wort wie *kam(ma)ru- belegen läßt, und ein Vokalverhältnis a ~ u als Stammumlaut innerhalb der (bzw. zwischen den) heth. und luw. Lemmata, unbeachtet von vereinzelten und manchmal auch überaus hypothetischen Vergleichen wie arma- ‘Mond’ ~ *armu- (Puhvel, J. HED 1–2

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nach das letzte Element -šepa “Genius” zu deuten wäre. Die Göttin hieße dann “Genius vom Dunst”.33 Im Lichte rezenter hattischer Studien muß aber jetzt angenommen werden, daß das heth.-luw. Bildungssuffix -šepa/ -zipa bei Nomina vielmehr auf das Hatt. -šemu/-temu zurückgeht und eigentlich die ‘Mutter von …’ deutet.34 Als eine vernünftige Bedeutung für Kamrušepa könnte man sich demnach die ‘Mutter des Dunstes bzw. Nebels > der Trübe/Trübheit’ vorstellen,35 die im übertragenen Sinne auf eine durch ihre Zauberkünste bekannte Göttin semantisch leicht bezogen werden kann.36 Die Versuche zum Verständnis der hatt. Bezeichnung Kata¶zipuri sind jedoch weniger geglückt. Der erste Bestandteil des Eigennamens ist öfters inkorrekt auf die hatt. Königinbezeichnung katta¶ bezogen, und in dem darauf folgenden Element zipuri das Wort für (1984):153 sowie HED 4 (1997):36), ir¶a- ‘Grenze’ ~ *ir¶u- (Puhvel, J. AJPh 98 (1977):151; vgl. Starke, F. StBoT 31 (1990):200 m. Anm. 661) oder Heth. ¶ašša‘Enkel’ ~ Luw. -*¶šu (H. C. Melchert, in: The Luwians 16–17), konkret nicht zu beweisen sind. 33 Goetze, A. Language 29 (1953):266 m. Anm. 21: ‘demon of the mist’. 34 Diese Idee beruht grundsätzlich auf der förmlichen Umwandlung von Wurunšemu (= wuur=un še=mu) ‘Mutter des Landes’ (HWHT 325), dem hatt. Namen bzw. Epitheton der Sonnengöttin von Arinna, in die spätere Gestalt Urunzipa (KBo 57, 48:9′, Bo 3891:8′) und ist an anderer Stelle eingehend erörtert. 35 Die “mütterliche” Beschaffenheit von Kamrušepa wird nach einer Textaussage in KUB 17, 8 iv 20 (AMA-ni ‘der/zur Mutter’; vgl. Haas, V. Gesch. Relig. 439 m. Anm. 143) ersichtlich, die dort nicht unbedingt auf ihre familiären Verhältnisse, d. h. Mutterschaft, bezüglich irgendeinem spezifischen Gott oder Wesen hindeutet. Dagegen aber beachte die Formulierung ‘die Schutzgottheit der Mutter (D.) Kamr[ušepa]’ (dLAMMA-yaš MUNUSAMA-ni dKamr[ušepai]) in einer luw. Komposition KBo 29, 25 ii? 8′. 36 Warum A. Kammenhuber, KZ 77 (1961):183–184, diese Möglichkeit ganz ausschließen will, bleibt unverständlich. M. Hutter, in: The Luwians 230, denkt andererseits hierfür an eine Verbindung von Kamrušepa mit ‘Feuer’ und ‘Rauch’ wegen ihrer engen Beziehung zu ‘(Haus-)Herd’ und ‘Zaubersprüchen des Feuers’ in den religiösen Vorstellungen Altanatoliens. Ein semantischer Widerspruch dagegen ließe sich dahingehend erheben, daß der aus Feuer bzw. Flamme stammende Rauch im Hethitischen nicht mit kammara-, sondern mit dem anderen Substantiv tu¶¶u(wa)i- (Akkad. qutru) wiedergegeben wird: KBo 10, 2 iv 39–40 (Akk. KBo 10, 1Rs.:23–24); vgl. bereits Friedrich, J. HW 2. Erg. (1961):25. Die Bezeichnung kammara- scheint dagegen eine Naturerscheinung wie ‘Lufttrübung, Ausdünstung’ also ‘Nebel’ bezeichnet zu haben. Im semantischen Sinne relevant wäre es fernerhin, daß im neulich edierten KBo 53, 50:2′–5′ kammarāš und alwanzešnanza in einem näheren, aber leider zerstörten, Kontext zusammen erwähnt sind.

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‘Land’ pur/wuur im Hattischen vermutet worden,37 was aber den Komplex zipuri nicht einleuchtend erklärt. Laut einer zutreffenden Beobachtung von H.-S. Schuster38 dürfte man bei Kata¶zipuri nicht mit katta¶ rechen, da das leztere immer mit doppeltem -tt- geschrieben wird, und Kata¶zipuri dagegen ausnahmslos mit einfachem -t- auftritt.39 Er möchte in kata¶ bei Kata¶zipuri vielmehr das Nomen ša¶/ta¶ ‘böse’ erkennen, das mit dem Nominalpräfix ka- determiniert ist.40 Die Feststellung von H.-S. Schuster ist als ein bedeutender Fortschritt zu diesem Thema zu begrüßen, doch seine weiterführenden Erklärungen zur Interpretation des Namens Kata¶zipuri lassen sich nur unter Vorbehalt diskutieren.41 Wenn 37

Laroche, E. Rech. 29: “Nom formé de deux éléments: Kata¶- ‘Reine’ et zipu/iri, attesté en hittite par le titre d’un fonctionnaire religieux LÚzipuriaš”; Kammenhuber, A. KZ 77 (1961):183: “protohatt. GN katta¶-zip/u̯uri mit katta¶ ‘Königin’ im Vorderglied (…)”; E. von Schuler, in: Wb. Myth. Bd. 1 (1965):174: “Kata¶ziwuuri: ‘Große(?) Königin’; Carruba, O. StBoT 10 (1970):59: “Im Namen stecken chatt. katta¶ ‘Königin’ und u̯uur ‘Land’, die genauen Verhältnisse der Komposition sind jedoch unklar”; von Bredow, I. Altanat. Gotth. (1995):132: “ihr Name ist hatt. mit den Gliedern katta¶ ‘Königin’ und u̯uur ‘Land’ ”; Haas, V. Gesch. Relig. 310: (katta¶=ziwuri); vgl. auch G. Frantz-Szabó, in: RlA 5:478. 38 HHB II 183–184. 39 Die einzige Ausnahme dKa-at!-ta¶-zi-pu-ri in KUB 17, 28 ii 18 überliefert sicherlich keinen zuverlässigen Beleg zum Namen, weil das Wort an dieser Stelle ohnehin als dKa-ap-ta¶-zi-pu-ri verschrieben ist; s. HWHT 119, 542. 40 Eine weitere “personifizierte” bzw. “individualisierte” Form von ša¶ ‘böse’ erscheint mit dem Nominalpräfix ¶a- als ¶aša¶ ‘das Böse’ (s. oben m. Anm. 4), vorläufig aber ohne irgendeine Bedeutungsnuance gegenüber kata¶ zuzulassen. Es wäre ferner zu notieren, daß bei ka-ta¶-o ‘das Böse’ als Bestandteil des Namens Kata¶zup/wuuri und bei ka-a-ta-a¶ ‘auf das / dem Böse’ in KBo 37, 23 ii 21′ (Dativ → III.2.f) ein distinktiver Graphieunterschied zwischen dem präformativen Nominalelement ka- (einfach) und dem Lokalpräfix ka-a- (plene) besteht; zur Problematik s. oben mit Anm. 13. 41 Er lehnt nämlich in HHB II 183ff., die Möglichkeit ab, daß bei der Formation des Nomens Kata¶zipuri der Bestandteil p/wuur ‘Land’ vorliegt, und schlägt stattdessen in Anlehnung an Laroche, E. Rech. 29 (s. Anm. 37 oben), ein längeres zipuri vor, das man anscheinend auch beim Namen eines Kultfunktionärs —wohl Reinigungspriesters— LÚzipuriaš in KUB 30, 69Vs.:1 aufspüren kann. Diese Form erweckt aber neben einer weiteren ähnlichen Bezeichnung LÚzipuriyatalla-, trotz der gegenteiligen Auffassung von Nakamura, M. Nuntarriyaš¶a (2002):161, zugleich den Verdacht, daß es sich in beiden Fällen um abgekürzte Schreibungen für das sonst besser bezeugte LÚzilipuriyatalla- ‘Mann/Priester des Gottes Zilipuri’ handeln könnte. Für diese Identifikation spräche auch die textliche Beobachtung, daß sowohl LÚzilipuriyatalla- wie auch LÚzipuriyatalla- in näherem Kontext zusammen mit LÚ É¶ešta- erwähnt werden: KBo 25, 176Rs.:13′–14′ // KUB 10, 13Vs. iii 14′, 16′; KUB 43, 29 ii 5 (LÚzilipuriyatalla- und LÚ É¶ešta-); dagegen aber

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man nun hierfür einen alternativen Erklärungsversuch wagen möchte, wäre es aus gutem Grund zu überlegen, daß das übriggeliebene Glied zipuri, trotz H.-S. Schusters Bedenken, aus einem Substantiv (pur) und Kombination zweier Morphemen zi=…=i um ‘Land-’ Wort besteht. Dadurch gelangt man zu dem Analysenergebnis zi=pur=i, das gemäß der Lokativbildungen ka=zi=škil=i und zi=nu=ni=š¶aw=i (s. unter Lokativ → 2.g und 3.a) problemlos die Bedeutung ‘unter dem Land’ ergibt. Der Name Kata¶zipuri läßt sich demnach in zwei Bauelemente gliedern: ka=ta¶ + zi=pur=i ‘das Böse unter dem Land (= in der Unterwelt?)’.42 Diese einfache, ja sogar ziemlich karg anklingende, Bildung könnte immerhin in eine finite Form ergänzt werden, in dem sie entweder in nominalem Sinne ‘das Böse ist/liegt unter dem Land’ oder sogar als ein Wunschform ‘das Böse möge unter dem Land sein/bleiben’ auszulegen wäre. Das ‘Böse unter dem Land’ könnte kaum ein Attribut der Göttin Kata¶zipuri selbst darstellen, obgleich sie sich —wie oben angedeutet— zuweilen auch durch ihre Hexenkunst auszeichnet. Denn die mythologischen Erzählungen weisen als Aufenthaltsort dieser Göttin ganz klar den Himmel aus,43 somit war sie kein unterirdisches Wesen. Das ‘Böse unter dem Land’ als Eigenname wie hier dürfte eher eine ungünstige bzw. unheilbringende Angelegenheit reflektieren, die der Göttin zur Erledigung oder Wegschaffung überantwortet worden ist und durch die Beschwörungen von Kata¶zipuri und mittels der dazu gehörigen Rituale ihren endgültigen Ort unter der Erde finden soll.44 So möchte man nun diese KBo 10, 31 iii 25′–26′ (LÚzipuriyatalla- und LÚ É¶ešta-); vgl. dazu noch F. P. Daddi, in: Offizielle Religion 364. 42 Unter den weiteren eventuellen Zergliederungsmöglichkeiten für Kata¶zup/wuuri muß ka=ta=¶a=zi=pur=i wegen zu vieler Präfix- und Infixe sicher ausgeschlossen werden. Ein ka=ta¶azi=pur=i sieht dagegen von seiner Wortstruktur her vernünftiger aus, ist aber immer noch nicht zu deuten. 43 Gesichert durch die bekannte Erzählungsformel in hatt. / heth. Mytholegemen in KBo 21, 82 i 26′–27′ (Hatt.), KUB 28, 4 lk. Kol. 13–14 (Hatt.) und r. Kol. 15 (Heth.), KUB 17, 8 iv 1 (Heth.) ‘Kata¶aziwuuri / Kamrušepa schaute aus dem Himmel (hinab)’. Eine alternierende, angebliche Formulierung ‘Da schaute Kamrušepa zum Himmel hoch’ bei Tischler, J. HEG III/10 (1994):398, basiert lediglich auf einer von Starke, F. StBoT 30 (1985):243, zum größten Teil ergänzten und daher mehr als unsicheren Textstelle in KBo 12, 89 iii 9′–10′. 44 Es wird in den heth. Texten auf verschiedene phantasievolle Weise formuliert, wie die unerfreulichen bzw. schädlichen Wesen, Angelegenheiten, Erscheinungen und Kräfte unter die schwarze Erde (katta(n) / kattanda danku(wa)i takna / daganzipa) gehen (pai-), hingeschafft werden (peda-) und dort hineingenommen (anda epp-), hinuntergeschluckt (katta paš-), verborgen (munnai-) oder festgenagelt

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Formation als eine ursprünglich an die Göttin gerichtete Wunschform ka=ta¶ + zi=pur=i ‘das Böse (möge) unter dem Land (sein)!’ annehmen, die sich später als ein Satzname entwickelt hat und ihr beigestellt wurde.45 Was auch immer der Eigenname Kata¶zip/wuuri genau im Hattischen heißen soll: Er ist sicher nicht die sprachliche Entsprechung von Heth./Luw. Kam(ma)rušepa46 ‘Mutter des Dunstes > der Trübe, Trübheit’, da keines der Bauelemente beider Nominalkomposita semantisch miteinander korrespondiert. Das Nomen Kam(ma)rušepa ist demnach keine direkte Übersetzung aus dem Hattischen, sondern hat eine andere Bedeutung im heth./luw. Sprachgut, dessen Schaffung und semantische Entwicklung in diesen beiden idg. Sprachen unabhängig von seinem hatt. Pendant verlaufen ist. Wie oben bei der Erörterung der chronologischen Entwicklung des Namens Kata¶ziwuuri/Kam(ma)rušepa und bei der Diskussion des Lemmas *kam(ma)ru- in Anm. 32 darauf hingewiesen wurde, könnte Kam(ma)rušepa eher auf den Wortschatz des Luwischen zurückzuführen sein. Die Übernahme dieser Göttin von den Luwiern, wenn auch mit einem anderen Namen, könnte sehr wohl einen hattischen Kultureinfluß auf das luwische Religionsleben wiederspiegeln. Wie aber dieser Einfluß zustande gekommen ist, muß vorläufig ungeklärt bleiben. Ob er tatsächlich Folge eines früheren und direkten Kontakts zwischen Hattiern und Luwiern gewesen ist, oder, ob er im engeren und literarischen Sinne lediglich auf die schriftliche Tradition der Hethiter beschränkt bleibt, müssen weitere Forschungen klären.

(tarmai-) werden sollen: KBo 10, 45 ii 8–9, iv 13–15; KBo 12, 91 iv 6′–8′; KBo 13, 131Vs.:7′–9′; KBo 23, 4 + KUB 33, 66 + KBo 40, 333 i 5′–11′; KBo 34, 24 + KUB 33, 3 i 7–10; KUB 2, 2 + KUB 48, 1 iii 12; KUB 7, 41 iii 9–12; KUB 17, 10 iv 15–19; KUB 29, 7 + KBo 21, 41Rs.:63–64; KUB 30, 33 iv 8–9; KUB 30, 34 iv 33–34; KUB 30, 36 ii 14–16; KUB 33, 8 iii 6–14; KUB 35, 147Rs.?:8′; KUB 39, 104 + KUB 30, 35 iv 11′–12′; KUB 41, 8 iii 8–12. 45 Mit einer ähnlichen Formation könnte auch bei Zilipuri zu rechnen sein, wonach der Göttername sich als zi=li=pur=i ‘unter seinem Land’ zergliedern und deuten ließe. Da in vorliegender Kette, im Gegensatz zu Kata¶zipuri (ka=ta¶=zi=pur=i), nur ein nominales Glied (p/wuur) vorliegt, sollte diese Bezeichnung sich direkt auf die Person oder Beschaffenheit von Zilipuri selbst beziehen. Es gibt bislang keinen handfesten Beweis für das Wesen von Zilipuri als einer unterirdischen Gottheit. Die Auskünfte über Zilipuri, die von F. P. Daddi, in: Offizielle Religion 358ff., zusammengefaßt sind, würden indes eine Verbindung dieser Gottheit mit der Unterwelt nicht vollkommen ausschliessen; vgl. auch Popko, M. Religions (1995):72. 46 Vgl. A. Kammenhuber, KZ 77 (1961):183.

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On the Sounds Rendered by the s-, šand ´/z-Series in Elamite* Jan Tavernier Louvain-la-Neuve

1. Introduction The study of Elamite phonology is a difficult task. Four reasons make it extremely hard to get a hold on how the Elamites pronounced their language (Reiner 1969:71; Grillot-Susini–Roche 1987:10; Khačikyan 1995:105; Krebernik 2005:161). Firstly, Elamite is written by means of the Sumero-Akkadian cuneiform writing system, a script which was not devised for expressing Elamite. As a result of this, the Sumero-Akkadian cuneiform signs cannot render in a clear way all Elamite phonemes, and as a consequence of this, some signs had to render more than one phoneme. Secondly, given the isolated status of Elamite, there is no comparative linguistic material for the study of Elamite phonology. Although McAlpin (1981) reconstructed a Proto-Elamo-Dravidian substrate language and thus proposed a connection between Elamite and the Dravidian languages, the link between them is still too weak to allow far-going conclusions on Elamite phonology. Thirdly, one should keep in mind the possibility of Elamite dialects, which may touch on phonological issues. Finally the phonological system also had its own diachronic development.1 * Abbreviations follow the system used in Northern Akkad Project Reports 8 (1993):49–77. Other abbreviations are: AE = Achaemenid Elamite; AE (AHam) = Achaemenid Elamite—texts dated to Atta-¶amiti-Inšušinak; MBHT = Middle Babylonian texts from Haft Tepe; MBSu = Middle Babylonian texts from Susa; ME = Middle Elamite; ME TTM = Middle Elamite texts from Tal-i Malyān; NA = Neo-Assyrian; NB = Neo-Babylonian; NE = Neo-Elamite; OAkk. = Old Akkadian; OBMa = Old Babylonian texts from Mari; OBSu = Old Babylonian texts from Susa; OBTM = Old Babylonian texts from Tal-i Malyān; OE = Old Elamite. 1 Basically there are five diachronic stages in the development of the Elamite language. The first one is Old Elamite (ca. 2300–1500 BC), followed by Middle Elamite (ca. 1500–1000 BC), Early Neo-Elamite (NE I; ca. 1000–650 BC), Late Neo-Elamite (NE II; ca. 650–550 BC) and Achaemenid Elamite (ca. 550–330 BC). This framework is relevant not only for Elamite phonology, but also for mor-

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Possibly because of these reasons, the recently published Elamite grammars (Grillot-Susini–Roche 1987; Khačikyan 1998; Stolper 2004; Krebernik 2005) devote relatively little attention to Elamite phonology. Nevertheless, these difficulties should not deter the scholar from trying to solve the mysteries of Elamite phonology given that there are three types of sources which enable him / her to conduct such a study. (1) Transcriptions of non-Elamite words in Elamite texts (Iranian, Akkadian and West-Semitic proper names and loanwords). (2) Transcriptions of Elamite proper names and words in non-Elamite texts. (3) Spelling variants within Elamite texts themselves.

These sources can easily be divided into two groups: internal data have no connection whatsoever with a non-Elamite language (No. 3), whereas external data (nos. 1–2) do have a connection with text attestations in languages other than Elamite. This article focuses on a particular phonological issue, the sounds rendered by the s-, š- and ´/z-series in Elamite. It is not certain how many sibilants and/or affricates Elamite possessed (Foy 1898:129; Reiner 1969:72–73) and therefore several scholars have published various ideas on this topic. With Old Persian phonology in mind, Westergaard (1845:343, 348–349, 355–356) believed in the existence of El. /č/, /s/, /š/ and /z/. Holtzmann (1851:147, 154, 168–169; also Weissbach 1890:47 and Grillot-Susini–Roche 1987:10) accepted the existence of /s/, /š/ and /z/. Four years later Norris (1855:39, 44 and 50) mentioned /č/, /ç/, /s/ and /θ/, whereas according to Mordtmann (1862:31) Elamite possessed /ç/, /s/, /θ/ and /z/. Other scholars assume the existence of only /s/, /š/ and /č/ (Hüsing 1898:15; Bork 1910:569–571 and 1925:74; Weidner 1917:32; Paper 1955:25–29; Reiner 1969:72; McAlpin 1981:65, 90–91). In his study on Proto-Elamo-Dravidian (PED) McAlpin includes a historical phonology of these three phonemes. PED /*š/ remained /š/ in Elamite (whereas it disappeared in Dravidian). PED /*c/ became ProtoElamite /*c/, but subsequently had a more complicated development, as the following table shows:

phology and syntax. Only with regard to the writing system it should be slightly modified, in the sense that the Middle Elamite period is divided into two subdivisions: Classical Middle Elamite (the royal inscriptions) and Late Middle Elamite (the administrative tablets from Tall-i Malyān).

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Table 1: Development of PED and Proto-Elamite /*c/ (McAlpin 1981) Phonetic context Middle Elamite Achaemenid Elamite Before /a/ /*c / > s /*c / > s /*c / > z (= /č /) (rarely) Before /e/, /i/ /*c / > s /*c / > z (= /č /) /*c / > z (= /č /) (rarely) Before /u/ /*c / > z (= /č /) Not mentioned2 /*c / > s (rarely)

In reality, however, these rules do not withstand critical research. For example, many times /č / precedes /a/ and this /č/ cannot have other origins than from PED /*c / in McAlpin’s view. Khačikyan (1995:105–107; 1998:7–8) has two alveolar fricatives (/s/ and /š/) and two affricates (/c / and /č /). Stolper (2004:71) postulates at least three fricatives, transcribed as s, š and z, and an affricate /č /. Labat (1951:28) denies the existence of /θ/ and has doubts on /č /, whereas Steve (1992:14) cautiously mentions /ž/ and /ğ/. Recently Krebernik (2005:162) has mentioned /s/, /š/, /z/ with their respectively geminated variants. Finally Henkelman (2008:278, n. 635) assumes the existence of an affricated dental /ts/. All together eight fricatives (/ç /, /s/, /ss/, /š/, /šš/, /θ/, /z/ and /zz/) and five affricates (/c /, /č /, /ğ/ and /ts/ and /ž/) have been mentioned in previous publications. Some phonemes are accepted by almost all scholars: /č/, /s/, /š/ and, to a lesser extent, /z/, whereas others (/c / /ç /, /ğ/, /ts/, /θ/ and /ž/) are only mentioned in the works of one or two authors. Three types of signs may render sibilants or affricates: the s-signs, the š-signs and the ´/z-signs. A problem that emerges when studying the sibilants is that the VC-signs (e. g. ÁŠ) may render various sibilants (áš = ás; is = iz, etc.). Also CV-signs, which generally have a clearer distinction, may be confusing, e. g. zu may be read as sú. Another problem is that the cuneiform writing system is not apt to express affricates. Finally it should be noted that CVC-signs will not be used in this discussion because of their ambiguity as to the precise character of the consonants they express. 2. Non-Elamite expressions in Elamite texts The first step in the study of Elamite sibilants and affricates is an analysis of Elamite renderings of non-Elamite expressions, especially of Akkadian

2

As the sign ZU had disappeared by the Achaemenid period, a clear distinction between /cu/ and su cannot be made.

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and Old Iranian ones (cf. Foy 1898:128–129; Cameron 1948:40–45 and 1954–1959:471; Paper 1955:29–30;3 Khačikyan 1995:106–107 and 1998: 7–8). There are not many Akkadian expressions rendered in Elamite, in contrast to the numerous Iranian proper names and loanwords appearing in Achaemenid Elamite texts. Nevertheless the Akkadian expressions are important, since they are, contrary to the Iranian proper names and loanwords, not limited to the Neo-Elamite and Achaemenid period. Although CVC-signs are not valuable for this study, one example of an Akkadian sibilant (ziqquratu) rendered by CVC-signs, is here included, since it is the only attestation of Akkadian /z/ in Elamite. Table 2: Akkadian and Aramaic names and words in Elamite Akkadian Attar-sūrī- (Aramaic), PN Bēlšunu, PN ešertu ‘chapel, shrine’ kiššu ‘bundle’ (pl. kišati) Išme-karāb, a theonym Man-ištūšu, a royal name4 misarru ‘(metal) band’ mīšaru ‘justice’ nikassu ‘account’ nisannu month name paspasu ‘duck’ pašīšu anointing priest qištu ‘wood, forest’ Sîn-qatēni, PN ´almu ‘statue’

3

Period AE AE ME ME ME ME ME ME AE AE ME AE NE I–II ME AE ME ME NE I NE I NE II NE II AE (AHam)5

Elamite ÚAL At-tur-r[u-i]š-šu-ri-iš ÚAL Be-ul-šu-un AŠ i-ši-ir-tu ki-ša-a-ti d Iš-ni-ka4-ra-ab Ma-an-iš-du-uz-zu mi-za-ru-um mi-ša-ri nu-ik-kás-su-um-me nu-šá-an ba-as/z-ba-as/z ba-is/z.KIMIN ba-ši-šu ki-iš-tu4-um ÚAL Ši-in-ka4-tan-na sa-al-mu-um (1 time) za-al-mu (14 times) za-al-mi (1 time) za-al-mu (11 times) za-al-mi (2 times) za-al-mu (14 times) za-al-mu (3 times)

Paper made the mistake of including Babylonian renderings of Old Persian names and loanwords in his table of sibilant correspondence-sets. These names and loanwords, however, do not yield reliable information on Elamite phonology, but rather on Old Iranian phonology. 4 The later spelling of this name is Ma-ni-iš-ti-iš-šu (Steinkeller 1987–1990:334). 5 The inscription on a stela of Atta-¶amiti-Inšušinak (EKI 86–89) was formerly dated to the second half of the 7th century BC (Vallat 1996:391) but recently the idea was expressed that this king could very well be identical with the rebel

J. Tavernier, On the Sounds Rendered by the s-, š-, ´/z-Series… Akkadian ´almu ‘statue’ (contd.) ´imittu ‘bundle of silver scrap’

Period AE ME

´īt šamši ‘sunrise’ Šamaš-gerra, PN

ME AE

šaqû ‘high’ ziqquratu ‘ziggurat’

ME ME ME NE II

1063

Elamite za-ul-man (3 times) si-mi-it-tum4, si-mi-it-tu8-um si-it-ša-am-ši Ša-ma-iš-ki-la/ra

ÚAL

ša-qu-tu4 sig-ra-tu4-me (1 time) zak-ra-tu4-me (3 times) zik-kur-ti-um (1 time)

As can be seen in this overview Akkadian (and Aramaic) /s/ is rendered in Elamite by the three types of signs indicating sibilants: s (nikassu), š (Attar-sūrī-, nisannu, Sîn-qatēni) and ´/z (misarru), albeit more frequently by š. Akkadian /´/ is rendered by s in the Middle Elamite texts from Tal-i Malyān (´imittu and ´īt šamši) and by ´/z in other texts (´almu); only once is it written with s (´almu). Elamite š-signs are the only ones used to render Akkadian /š/ (Bēlšunu, ešertu, kiššu, Išme-karāb, mīšaru, pašīšu, qištu, Šamaš-gerra, šaqû), except for the rendering of Man-ištūšu. The rendering of Akkadian /z/ by CVC-signs makes it difficult to draw any conclusions about it. Numerous Iranian proper names and words are transcribed in Neoand Achaemenid Elamite texts. Accordingly they are a very important source for the study of late Elamite sibilants. The Elamo-Iranian transpositions may be divided into four categories: (1) directly transmitted Iranica, (2) semi-directly transmitted Iranica, (3) non-Iranian proper names and loanwords in Old Persian and (4) indirectly transmitted Iranica. The first two categories are the basis for the Elamo-Iranian transpositional system and are also most important for the study of ElamAθamaita- mentioned in Darius’ Bīsītūn Inscription (Waters 2000:85; Tavernier 2004:22–29; Henkelman 2008:291). In a rather haughty tone Vallat has criticized this idea, which he has consigned to the “poubelles de l’Histoire” (Vallat 2006:61). Vallat bases his criticism on one sentence in an unpublished text from Atta-¶amitiInšušinak. It goes as follows: “Comme Šutur-Na¶¶unte, fils de Úumban-immena, manœuvre à Ayapir, j’ai mâté son armée” (Vallat 2006:59). According to Vallat this sentence proves that Šutur-Na¶¶unte and Atta-¶amiti-Inšušinak must have been contemporaries. Leaving aside the methodological error of citing unpublished sentences exclusively in translation and without their context, a remark must still be made: it is by no means sure that the Atta-¶amiti-Inšušinak cited by Vallat is the same individual as the Atta-¶amiti-Inšušinak of the stela. As long as Vallat presents his arguments in such a way, they cannot be convincing and therefore I see no reason to change my point of view concerning this issue.

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ite phonology. In the first category, the names and words whose Iranian original is attested in Old Persian are collected. As there are no Old Iranian texts dating from the Neo-Elamite period, there are no Neo-Elamite Iranica belonging to this category. The second group includes NeoElamite and Achaemenid Elamite Iranica that differ only slightly from an attested Old Persian name or word, for example because a proper name or loanword belongs to another Iranian dialect or because it is a younger equivalent of an Old Persian name or word. The third category contains non-Iranian names and loanwords that were transmitted to Elamite through Old Persian. The fourth category is composed of Iranica whose Iranian original is not preserved, but which can be reconstructed according to the transpositional system constructed on the basis of the expressions of categories one and two (Tavernier 2007:3–4). Old Iranian /č/ is mostly rendered by ´/z-signs. More seldom it is expressed by s- or t-signs. The sequence /ču/ had to be rendered by SU, because ZU had disappeared from the syllabary and was no longer available for the scribes. Old Iranian /ç/ was always written by means of š-signs. There is only one exception to this: *dauçaka- ‘sacrifice,’ appears in Elamite as da-u-si-ka4 (Hinz 1973:108–109 and 1975:91; Koch 1977:127; Henkelman 2008:212–213; Tavernier 2007:462, No. 4.4.22.8). Old Iranian /j/ is almost exclusively expressed by El. ´/z-signs. /Ju/ is expressed by SU because of the lack of ZU and the name *Jīča- is once spelled Si-iz-za (Tavernier 2007:220, No. 4.2.895). Old Iranian /s/ and /š/ are rendered by š-signs, with two exceptions: *patisēka-, a kind of payment, is twice written bat-ti-zé-kaš (Hallock 1969:135, 676; Tavernier 2007:444, No. 4.4.10.15) and *Pēšiyāhvādiya- appears mostly as Bezí-ia-ma-ti-ia (Tavernier 2007:74, No. 2.3.36). Old Iranian /z/ is mostly represented by El. ´/z-signs, but El. š-signs could also be used to render this phoneme. Because of the already mentioned problem with ZU, the sequence /zu/ was rendered by SU, which could also be used in order to write /za/ before /w/. Finally Old Iranian /ž/ was rendered by El. s-, š- or ´/z-signs. The Elamite s- and š-series were, next to the d/t-series, also used for the transcription of Iranian /θ/. 3. Elamite expressions in Akkadian texts The second step is to study Elamite expressions in Akkadian texts. It should be noted that reconstructed Elamite forms are not included in the general conclusions derived from this table.

J. Tavernier, On the Sounds Rendered by the s-, š-, ´/z-Series…

1065

Table 3: Elamite names and words in Akkadian (see also Krebernik 2006:84–90) No. Elam. spelling Elam. period Akk. spelling Akk. period 1 ak-sir6 ME, NE II ak-si-ir7 OBSu ak-sír7 ME ak-še-er OB ak-še-ir ME, AE ak-sìr7 MB ak-ši-ri7 NE II ak-ši-ra AE 2 Az-za-za NE II A-za-za OAkk. BE/ÚAL 7 3 el-ta-aš Úal-lu-iš NE II, AE OBSu mÚa-lu-si NA mÚa-lu-su NA mÚal-lu-si NA mÚal-lu-ši NA mÚal-lu-šú NB ¶al-taš7 4 ¶al-taš7 NE II OBSu ÚAL al-da-a-še NA Úal-da-iš AE al-da-še NA al-da-si NA al-da-su NA ¶al-da-a-šú NA al-da-šú NB ìl-da-šú NB ¶a-né-eš 5 ¶a-né-eš7 OE Ur III, OB ¶a-ni-iš ¶a-ni-iš7 ME, NE II OBSu ¶a-aš-ša 6 *hašša OBSu ¶u-pír-ri-ri-ša 7 *hupirririša OBSu 7 ¶u-ši¶u-si8 ° NE II, AE ° OBSu ¶u-ut-li-iš 9 *hutliš OBSu 10 dKi-ri-ri-ša Ki-ri-ri-ša OBSu, MBSu ME, NE II7 d Ki-ri-ri-šá AE Ki-ma¶-si-ir 11 dKir-wa-si-ir OE OAkk. d d Kir-ma-sir Ki-ir-me-si-ir ME MBHT d Ki-ir-wa-si-ir MBHT d Ki-ir- NA -ma-as 12 *Kutuzuluš Ku-du-šu-lu-uš OBMa Ku-du-zu-lu-uš OBSu 13 *kuššuku Ku-uš-šu-ki OBSu 14 *Kušum Gu-šum OBSu Gu-ú-šum OBSu 6 7

As an element in anthroponyms and toponyms. Attested as an abbreviated form Kiriša (dKi-ri-iš-ša) in EKI 76:34.

1066 No. 15 16 17

18

Limited-corpus Languages of the Ancient Near East Elam. spelling *kutuhtaš *liriša *lurs/šu

Elam. period

d

Ma-zi-at Ma-an-za-at d Ma-za-at

OE ME ME

d

ME

d

19

Na-pi-ri-ša

Akk. spelling Ku-du-u¶-ta-aš li-ri-šà lu-ur-si lu-ur-ši lu-ur-šu d Ma-an-zi-at d Ma-an-zi-it d Ma-an-za-at

d

20 pa-¶aš8

ME

Na-pi-ri-ša Na-ap-ri-si Pa-¶a-aš

21 *šarnup 22 dŠá-iz-zí 23 dŠi-da-nu d Šu-d[a-nu] 24 si-il-¶a-ak

NE II NE II NE II OE, ME

šá-ár-nu-up-pu Šà-zi d Šu-da-a-nu d Šu-da-nu si-il-¶a-ak7

d

ši-il-¶a-° šil-¶a-°

še-el-¶a-ak ši-il-¶a ši-il-¶a-° Si-ir-uk-du-u¶ Si-ir-uk-tu¶

Ši-mu-mu Si-mu-ut

ME, NE II ME, NE II, AE OE ME AE OE, ME

Ši-mut Ši-mu-ut

ME, NE I–II ME, AE

d

25 Si-[ir-uk-du-u¶] Ši-ir-uk-du-¶ 26 27

m d

d d

28 si-ia-an si-a-na zi-ia-an

8

d

ME, NE I–II NE II NE II, AE

Si-mu-mu Si-mu-ut

d

Ši-mu-ut Ši-mut d Šu-mu-du zi-a-na-am zi-a-nam zi-a-ni zi-ia-an zi-ia-na-[am] d

Akk. period OBSu OBSu OBSu OBSu OBSu Ur III Ur III OA, OB, MB, MBHT, NA, NB OBSu NA OBSu, MBHT NB OBSu NA NA Ur III Susa, OBSu, OBTM Ur III Ur III OB, OBSu9 OBSu OBSu OBSu OB, OBSu, MB, MBHT OB MB NA OBSu OBSu OBSu OBSu OBTM

Although this is written with a CVC-sign, it is certain that š is meant, since the verbal endings of the third person singular of conjugation I are exclusively written with š in Elamite. 9 Dossin (1962:157) reads Ši-il-¶a-¶a on an inscribed bronze axe from Luristān. Nevertheless the sign traces on his plate rather point to Si-il-¶a-¶a than to a reading Ši-il-¶a-¶a.

J. Tavernier, On the Sounds Rendered by the s-, š-, ´/z-Series… No.

Elam. spelling zi-ia-an (contd.)

Elam. period

29 su-u¶-mu-tú zu-u¶-mu-tú 30

m

ME ME NE I

Šu-tur-dUTU

31 taš da-iš 32 du-ni-iš du-nu-iš 33 Zí-we-pa-la-ar-¶u-u¶pa-ak Si-me-pá-la-ar-¶u-u¶pa-ak Si-me-pá-la-ar-¶u-u¶pá-ak Si-me-pá-la-ar-¶u-uppá-ak Si-me-pá-la-ar-¶u-uppak

ME, NE II, AE AE ME NE II, AE OE ME ME ME ME

34 Zí-it

OE

35 zu-kir su-gìr su-un-gìr su-un-ki-ir zu-uk-ki-ir zu-un-ki-ir

OE ME, NE I ME ME ME ME

1067

Akk. spelling zi-ia-nam zi-i-a-ni zu-mi-tum

Akk. period OBSu MBSu OBSu

m

NA

Šu-túr-dNa-¶uun-de ta-aš

OBSu

da-aš tu-ni-iš7

MBHT OB

Si-we-pa-la-a[rOBSu ¶u-u¶-pa-ak] Še-ep-la-ar-pa-ak OBMa Še-ep-[l]a-ra-paak Zí-we-pa-la-ar¶u-uh-pa-ak Zí-we-pa-la-ar¶u-ú¶-p[a-ak] Si-it Ši-ti su-kir zu-uk-ki-ir

OBMa OBSu OB Babylon OB UrIII or OB OAkk. Susa OBSu

The following table (Table 4) summarizes the various transpositions between Akkadian and Elamite. In a strict sense, only transpositions belonging to the same chronological period are listed. Period

Elamite

OE—Old Akk.

s ´/z

OE—Ur III

š ´/z s š

OE—Old Bab.

Table 4 Akk. Akk. (Elam) (Mes.) s s

s š

š ´/z s š

Examples Kirwasir zunkir haneš Manzat Simut, Siruktu¶ haneš

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Period OE—Old Bab. (contd.)

ME—Middle Bab.

NE—Neo-Ass.

AE—Neo-Ass.

Elamite ´/z ´/z ´/z ´/z s s š š š ´/z š š š

Akk. (Elam) s

´/z

Akk. (Mes.) s š ´/z š

´/z s s ´/z

s š š ´/z s š š

Examples Ziwepalarhuhpak Zit Ziwepalarhuhpak Ziwepalarhuhpak, zunkir Simut siyan Simut Kiririša Simut Manzat10 Halluš Halluš, Šitanu, ŠuturNahhunte haltaš

Elamite š-signs are mostly rendered by Akk. š-signs as well. The (at first sight) exceptional Akkadian writing Simut for Šimut is explained by the occurrence of Old and Middle Elamite Simut. Neo-Assyrian has a real variation of s and š in its renderings of Elamite š, but this is probably due to Assyrian phonology itself, where an s/š-variation exists (Parpola 1974: 1–2; Fales 1986:61–63; GAG § 37). If the strict diachronic approach is set aside, i. e. if transpositions of different periods are included, it becomes apparent that the transposition El. š—Akk. š is maintained, with one exception: El. akšer (ME—AE) is once rendered by ak-si-ir (in a personal name) in an Old Babylonian text from Susa. Elamite s-signs are rendered by signs belonging to the s- and ´/z-series. This pattern remains unchanged, when including non-diachronic transpositions. Finally Elamite ´/z-signs are mostly written by means of ´/z-signs (Old Elamite—Ur III and Old Babylonian, Middle Elamite—Middle Babylonian; see, however, below, No. 1). In two cases they are rendered by s-signs (Old Elamite—Old Akkadian, Old Elamite—Old Babylonian), but each of these examples is attested only once. The first example may be due to Old Akkadian orthography while the usual spelling of Ziwepalarhuhpak in the Old Babylonian texts from Susa is with z. If the strict diachronic approach is set aside, one can see that Old Elamite ´/z is exclusively rendered by Akkadian ´/z-signs, both in Mesopotamia and in Elam. 10

lant.

Possibly the following nasal had influence on the real character of this sibi-

J. Tavernier, On the Sounds Rendered by the s-, š-, ´/z-Series…

1069

Two more interesting aspects should be mentioned: 1) Some Elamite expressions showing an initial variation s/z are rendered in Elamite Akkadian by equivalents with initial z. El. S/Ziwepalarhuhpak, s/ziyan, s/zuhmutu and s/zunki appear in Akkadian as Ziwepalarhuhpak, ziyan, zuhmutum and zukkir. In Mari this variation was expressed with š-signs: S/Ziwepalarhuhpak became Šeplarpak. 2) Elamite words with an initial variation of s and š (cf. infra) are rendered in Elamite Akkadian by s, whereas in Mesopotamian Akkadian š is the exclusive way to render these lexemes (sil¶a-, Simut and Siruktu¶).11

The following tables incorporate all the data in a clear overview. The italics in Table 7 indicate that these transpositions are not very frequent. Table 5: Akkado-Elamite transpositions Akkadian Voiceless alveolar fricative (/s/)

Emphatic alveolar fricative (/´/) Voiceless palato-alveolar fricative (/š/) Voiced alveolar fricative (/z/)

Elamite s (rare) š ´/z (rare) s ´/z š z

Table 6: Irano-Elamite transpositions Old Iranian Elamite Voiceless palato-alveolar affricate (/č /) s (seldom) t (rare) ´/z (frequent) Voiceless alveolar fricative (/ç /) s (once) š (frequently) Voiced palato-alveolar affricate (/j/) s (rare) ´/z (frequent) Voiceless alveolar affricate (/s/) š (frequent) ´/z (once) Voiceless palato-alveolar fricative (/š/) š (frequent) ´/z (once) Voiceless interdental fricative (/θ/) d/t s (frequent) š (rare) Voiced alveolar fricative (/z/) š (rare) ´/z (frequent) 11 This study is based on material from ElW. Additional Old Babylonian examples are Ri-ib-Ši-mu-ut (BIN 10, 157:7), Si-el-¶a, Še-el-¶a, Šim-še-il-¶a (Whiting 1987:29, n. 90) and dŠi-mu-ut-a-bi (OECT 15, 95:22).

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Limited-corpus Languages of the Ancient Near East Old Iranian Voiced palato-alveolar fricative (/ž/)

Elamite s s/š (initial)

s/z (initial) š

´/z

Elamite s (once; SU for ZU) š (three times) ´/z (twice)

Table 7: Elamo-Akkadian transpositions El. Akkadian Mes. Akkadian voiceless alveolar voiceless alveolar fricative (/s/) fricative (/s/) voiceless alveolar voiceless palato-alveolar fricative (/s/) fricative (/š/) voiceless palato-alveolar fricative (/š/) voiced alveolar fricative (/z/) voiced alveolar fricative (/z/) voiceless palato-alveolar fricative (/š/) voiceless alveolar fricative voiceless alveolar fricative (/s/)13 12 (/s/) voiceless palato-alveolar voiceless palato-alveolar fricative fricative (/š/) (/š/) voiced alveolar fricative (/z/) voiced alveolar fricative (/z/) voiceless alveolar fricative (/s/) voiceless palato-alveolar fricative (/š/)

4. Spelling variants in Elamite The third source for studying Elamite phonology is the corpus of spelling variants within Elamite. First of all, it must be emphasized that some lexemes are spelled exclusively with only one grapheme, s, š or z. (1) Only s:

(2) Only š:

(3) Only z:

halsa- ‘to banish’; hasur ‘anointer’ (?); husa- ‘tree’; kars- ‘to paint, dye’; sa- ‘to travel’; sari- ‘to destroy’; sati- ‘to ration, portion’; sira‘to weigh, hang.’ 3rša- ‘great’; hušu- ‘to retaliate’; meša ‘later’; niški- ‘to guard’; šalhu‘to command’; šara- ‘to enforce’; šera- ‘to command’; šinni- ‘to come’; šišna- ‘beautiful.’ haz- ‘to be big’; izzi- ‘to go’; Manzat, a theonym (both in Akkadian and Elamite texts); zak- ‘to spend; value’; zau̯m- ‘to labour’; zikka‘to heap up.’

It is unfortunately not possible to determine to what extent scribal habits inspired the exclusiveness of the writings above. There is no diachronic aspect involved here since most of the lexemes are attested from

12 13

Examples: akšir, ¶uši- and Šimumu. In Neo-Assyrian only.

J. Tavernier, On the Sounds Rendered by the s-, š-, ´/z-Series…

1071

the Old or Middle Elamite down to the Achaemenid period (halsa-, izzi-, niški-, sari-, sira-, šalhu-, šera-, etc.). More information comes from the spelling variations, of which there are various types. The first one is s/š. Foy (1898:129; also Khačikyan 1995:106) mentions a shift from Old Elamite s to Middle and later Elamite š, with reference to Old Elamite sutet > Middle El. šutme and to Old and Middle El. Simut > Middle and Neo-Elamite Šimut. That this shift should be considered a “rule,” as Khačikyan puts it, is, however, exaggerated. A closer look at the various examples yields a modified result. There is certainty on the alternation s/š. Examples are (1) hipis (AE) ~ ipiš (NE II) ‘axe,’ (2) Insušinak (OE, ME, NE I) ~ Inšušinak (ME, NE I), a theonym, (3) musika (AE) ~ mušika (AE) ‘it is counted,’ (4) pepsi- (ME) ~ pepši- (ME, NE II, AE) ‘to renew,’ (5) sil¶a- (ME, NE II14) ~ šilha- (NE II, AE) ‘strong,’ (6) s[ip]ari (ME TTM) ~ šipari (AE), a month name, (7) Simut (OE, ME) ~ Šimut (ME, NE I–II, AE), a theonym, (8) Si[ruktu¶] (OE) ~ Širuktu¶ (ME), a personal name, (9) suhter (ME) ~ šuhter (ME; only once) ‘altar,’ (10) sut- (OE) ~ šut- (ME) and šit- (AE) ‘night’15 and (11) šasika (AE) ~ šašika (AE) ‘left over.’ In some cases the variation seems to have a diachronic nature. In others, however, both variants occur in the same time period (e. g. nos. 3, 4 and 8). Remarkably, the diachronic examples all concern an initial variation: silha, sipari, Simut, Siruktuh, suhter (su-u¶-te-er, su-u¶-ter) and sutet (su-dè-et). Four of these forms concern a sequence rendered by the sign SI, which can easily be read ší (as Glassner–Herrero 1990:12 and Stolper 1982:60 transcribe).16 In that sense, this could be used to argue against any shift or variation. Fortunately the fifth and sixth form differ from the four other ones and corroborate the variation. It is, however, still possible that the variation only applies to the sequence /su/. The general pattern seems to be that Old Elamite and Middle Elamite s (in the cases of silha-, sipari and Simut) became š during the Middle Elamite period. This is, however, not a general rule and may thus point

14

In the adjective si-ul-¶i-te-ek-ra, attested three times in the inscriptions of Hanne (ca. 625–600 BC). These attestations are rather exceptional, appearing at a time when all other attestations of the lexeme šilha ‘strong,’ are written with š. Perhaps a dialect aspect of Hanne’s inscriptions could be seen here. 15 S/šut- is the stem and appears in such forms as sutet, šutkume, šutme and šitmana. 16 One should also keep in mind that i may have a palatalizing influence on sibilants.

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to a specific phoneme which in the Middle Elamite period merged with a phoneme rendered by š (at least in initial position). It is also illustrative that sometimes the Akkadian scribes in OBSu used s (at least in non-initial position) where later Elamite has š: aksir ~ akšir ‘guide, leader,’ husi- ~ huši- ‘to hurdle.’ Another type of variation is s/z. Examples are (1) hasi (NE II) ~ hazi (NE II, AE) ‘hair (?),’ (2) kass- (ME) ~ kazz- (ME, NE II, AE) ‘to forge, smith,’ (3) kusi- (ME) ~ kuši- (ME, NE, AE) ‘to build,’ (4) mass- (ME, NE I– II) ~ mazz- (NE II, AE) ‘to cut off,’ (5) Pessitme (AE) ~ Pezzatme (AE), a toponym, (6) siya- (ME, NE II, AE) ~ ziya- (NE II, AE) ‘to see,’ (7) siyan (ME, NE II) ~ ziyan (NE II, AE) ‘temple,’ (8) sila (ME) ~ zila (OE, NE II, AE) ‘statue,’ (9) Silili (OBSu) ~ Zilili (OBSu), a personal name, (10) Simepalarhuhpak (ME) vs. Zimepalarhuhpak (OE), (11) sizzim (NE II) ~ zizzim (NE II), a type of shoes (?), (12) Sinini (NE II) ~ Zinini (AE), a personal name, (13) sip (ME) ~ zip (AE) ‘door, gate,’ (14) sukuka (AE) ~ zikuka (AE) ‘demanded, requested,’ (15) Sunkiki (ME) ~ Zunkiki (ME), a personal name. Some examples of a variation š/t/z are attested: (1) huršubum (OBSu) ~ hurtebum (OBSu), a month name, (2) kit- ‘to pour out’ (with forms ki-iz ~ ki-ti-iš and ki-iz-za17 ~ ki-ti-iš-da) and (3) kuti- ‘to carry’ (with forms ku-iz ~ ku-ti-iš, ku-iz-da ~ ku-iz-iš-da, ku-iz-da-ti-iš-da, ku-iz-za-iš-da and ku-ti(-iš)šá ~ ku-(-iz)-za, ku-iz-za-iš). Tempt ‘lord’ (with forms semm, semt, šemm, šemt, temm, temp, temt and tept) is a special case. The forms beginning with s and š are attested in Mesopotamian sources dating from the Ur-III period to the Old Babylonian period. In all probability these spellings are the result of popular etymology, as Akkadian has a lexeme simtu ‘appropriate, proper (symbol)’ (Zadok 1984:43), although Henkelman (2008:278, n. 635) considers the various spellings as possible proof for an affricated dental /ts/ in Elamite. Another interesting case could be the divine name Zit, spelled dZí-it in the Narām-Sîn Treaty (EKI 2 i 6). This name was connected by Vallat (2000:1068; 2002–2003:530, 537; see Henkelman 2008:278, n. 635) with Ši-ti (Iraq 38, 62:6), occurring in a Mesopotamian magical spell. Moreover, it is very likely that both spellings are related to Si-it (MHEO 2, 75:6), as Šit(i) and Sit appear in very similar contexts. This would, however, be the only example of such a variation.

17

According to ElW 472 this form was pronounced /kitsa/.

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Finally there is the interchangeability of š and z. Stève (1992:17; also Khačikyan 1995; Stolper 2004:71 and Vallat 2004:136, n. 6) argues that š and z often alternated in Elamite, but only three examples of such an alternation are attested. The first one is the Middle Elamite divine name Hutekašan (in f Ú-tuk-dÚu-te-ka4-ša-an), which appears as Hutekazan on an Old Elamite cylinder seal (Úu-te-kà-za-an; Vallat 2004:137). The second one is the personal name Kutuš/zuluš. Ku-du-šu-lu-uš is attested in an Old Babylonian text from Mari (Durand 1986:119, n. 26), while Ku-du-zu-lu-uš occurs various times in Old Babylonian texts from Susa. The third example is the place name Anšan (OE, ME)/Anzan (ME, NE I–II, AE). It should be mentioned, however, that toponyms are usually very difficult to explain and that the name Anšan may not even be Elamite at all. Accordingly, the phonological conclusions that can be drawn from the latter example are minimal, as a consequence of which there are only two examples for this variation. This, of course, does not support a variation š/z in Elamite phonology.18 It seems that each of these variations (s/š, s/z, s/š/z and š/t/z; perhaps š/z) points to a specific phoneme. Diachronic aspects (e. g. phoneme shifts) are not likely to have played a great role here, since all spellings occur in all periods. 4. Analysis What conclusions can be drawn from this data? According to Khačikyan (1995:106; 1998:7; also Stolper 2004:71) the s-series must render an affricate for three reasons: (1) the connection between s and OP /θ/, (2) the variation s/š and (3) the variation s/š/t. This is not probable. As the ´/zseries also indicates a fricative, the interchangeability of s and z must be seen in this connection. Moreover, a variation s/š/t/z does not exist, since the spellings with s all come from Mesopotamia and are probably the result of popular etymology. Moreover, there is one example of a variation s/š/z, signs which again can all render fricatives. 18

The variations between Hutekašan and Hutekazan on the one hand and Kutušuluš and Kutuzuluš on the other hand might be explained by assuming that the former ones are palatalized pronunciations of the latter ones. In fact there are both diachronic and synchronic (geographic) differences between the various spellings. Diachronically, in later Elamite the palatalized equivalent of /z/, i. e. /ž/, is mostly rendered by a š-sign. Synchronically, the Mari texts seem to have a preference for š. The two names attested in these texts are Kutušuluš and Šeplarpak, which appear with z (Kutuzuluš and Ziwepalarhuhpak) in the Old Babylonian texts from Babylon and Susa.

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Accordingly, these reasons are rather indications for the s-series denoting a fricative. In addition to this the external data favour a connection between the s-series and fricatives: El. s = Old Ir. /θ/. It must be accepted that the s-series expresses a fricative. The character of this fricative is, however, not known with certainty (see below). It is also possible that the s-series can express an affricate. This suspicion is raised by the variation between s- and z-signs (Stolper 2004:71). This (and not the three reasons mentioned by Khačikyan) is the main indication for this idea. Again the character of the affricate is far from certain. The spelling variation s/z shows that the affricates behind s and z are not very different. The affricate closest to /č / is its non-palatalized equivalent /c /. Khačikyan (1995:107; 1998:6) observes that the external evidence (El. s = OP /θ/ and El. ´/z = OP /č / and /j /) suggests that the s-series renders /c /, whereas the ´/z-series was used to express /č /. With regard to the š-series the situation seems quite clear (Khačikyan 1995:106 and 1998:7). Both the external data (e. g. Akk. and Old Ir. /s/ and /š/ are mostly rendered by š) and the variation s/š indicate that this series renders one or more fricatives. Mesopotamian orthography supports this, since the š-series is used for the notation of historical nonaffricates in Akkadian (Diakonoff 1988:37). In all likelihood the š-series rendered both /s/ and /š/. The ´/z-series only rendered one phoneme according to Khačikyan (1995:106). Nevertheless the external data favours a connection of the ´/zseries and affricates on the one hand and a connection of the ´/z-series and the voiced alveolar fricative /z/ on the other hand. The latter is not abnormal as this series was also used to render this phoneme in Akkadian. It can be assumed that this series is the usual notation for an affricate, but it is not sure which affricate is meant. Here the internal variation š/t/z may be important and may point the researcher in the direction of a phoneme /č / (Paper 1955:29–30; Khačikyan 1995:106; 1998:7; Stolper 2004:71),19 although Labat (1951:28) is reluctant to accept the existence of such a phoneme in Elamite. The forms ku-iz and ku-ti-iš then represent spoken /kuč /, while ku-ti-iš-da and ku-iz-da render /kučta/. 19

Stolper’s idea that spellings like ku-iz-iš-da and ku-iz-da-ti-iš-da served to clarify a cluster /tšt/ does not pose a problem for this assumption since this cluster contains an affricate. ElW 308 believe that this variation (s/š/t) indicates the interdental fricative /θ/ (probably because s, š and t are the three sign series that can render OP /θ/).

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It is likely that Elamite also had a phoneme or allophone /s’/, a lax version of /s/, that was written by means of the ´/z-series. This would parallel the existence of lax and tense variants in the Elamite plosive series. Proof for this phoneme is the frequent transposition of Akkadian and Old Iranian /z/ by El. z. If Elamite had not known /s’/, then Ir. /z/ would have been rendered more often by š-signs. With historical Dravidian phonology in mind, one could postulate a retroflex approximant /À/ for Elamite (Proto-Dravidian has a such a phoneme, see McAlpin 1981:24–25). This phoneme would be expressed by the ´/z-series. Yet, the existence of such a phoneme remains very uncertain, because of the weak ties between Dravidian and Elamite. Based on an alleged variation š/z, Steve has postulated the existence of palato-alveolar affricates /č / (voiceless) or /j / (voiced) on the one hand or of a voiced fricative /ž/ on the other hand. It has been shown, however, that this variation should not be automatically accepted within the Elamite graphemic and phonological system. The only question left open is the character of the fricative rendered by the s-series. This question is very hard to answer. First of all, it is not impossible that one phoneme could be rendered by more than one sign (e. g. /t/ by d and t; cf. Reiner 1969:72–73). Accordingly, s may also represent /s/. Nevertheless, the variation s/š and the fact that in initial position this variation became š during the middle Elamite period point to a separate phoneme, which merged with /s/ in initial position. Possible candidates are an interdental fricative /θ/ (based on the external evidence: El. s = OP /θ/) or a lateral fricative /ś/. To sum up, Elamite probably had six (or seven, if one accepts the retroflex approximant) alveolar fricatives, palato-alveolar fricatives and affricates: the alveolar fricatives /s/ and /s’/, a palato-alveolar fricative (/š/), two affricates (/c / and /č /) and one yet unknown fricative (/θ/ or /ś/). The table below connects these phonemes with graphemes. Sign series s š ´/z

0000

Phoneme Interdental or lateral fricative Alveolar affricate (?) Alveolar fricative Palato-alveolar fricative Alveolar fricative Palato-alveolar affricate Retroflex approximant (?)

/ś/ or /θ/ /c / /s/ /š/ /s’/ /č / /À/

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Phoneme Alveolar, interdental or lateral fricative; or Palato-alveolar fricative Alveolar affricate Palato-alveolar affricate

/s/, /ś/, /š/ or /θ/ /c / or /s’/ /č /

In the reverse order, this gives Elamite phoneme /c / /č / /s/ /ś/ or /θ/ /s’/ /š/ /À/

Graphic rendering s-series, s/z-variation ´/z-series, š/t/z-variation š-series, s/š-variation s-series, s/š-variation ´/z-series, s/z-variation š-series, s/š-variation ´/z-series

References Bork 1910 Bork 1925 Cameron 1948 Cameron 1954–1959 Diakonoff 1988 Dossin 1962 Durand 1986

Fales 1986 Foy 1898 Glassner–Herrero 1990 Grillot-Susini–Roche 1987 Hallock 1969 Henkelman 2008

Bork, F. Nochmals das Alter der altpersischen Keilschrift. ZDMG 64:569–580. Bork, F. Elam. B. Sprache. Reallexikon der Vorgeschichte. Vol. 3. Berlin. Pp. 70–83. Cameron, G. G. Persepolis Treasury Tablets (OIP 65). Chicago. Cameron, G. G. The “Daiva” Inscription of Xerxes: In Elamite. WO 2:470–476. Diakonoff, I. M. Afrasian Languages. Moscow. Dossin, G. Bronzes inscrits du Luristan de la collection Foroughi. IrAnt 2:149–164. Durand, J.-M. Fragments rejoints pour une histoire élamite. Fragmenta Historiae Elamicae. Mélanges offerts à M.-J. Steve. Paris. Pp. 111–128. Fales, F. M. Aramaic Epigraphs on Clay Tablets of the NeoAssyrian Period (SS NS 2). Roma. Foy, W. Beiträge zur Erklärung der susischen Achaemenideninschriften. ZDMG 52:564–605. Glassner, J. J.; Herrero, P. Haft Tépé: choix de textes. I. IrAnt 25:1–45. Grillot-Susini, F.; Roche, C. Eléments de grammaire élamite (Editions Recherche sur les Civilisations 29). Paris. Hallock, R. T. Persepolis Fortification Tablets (OIP 92). Chicago. Henkelman, W. F. M. The Other Gods Who are: Studies in Elamite-Iranian Acculturation Based on the Persepolis Fortification Texts (Achaemenid History 14). Leiden.

J. Tavernier, On the Sounds Rendered by the s-, š-, ´/z-Series… Hinz 1973 Hinz 1975 Holtzmann 1851 Hüsing 1898 Khačikyan 1995 Khačikyan 1998 Koch 1977

Krebernik 2005 Krebernik 2006 Labat 1951

McAlpin 1981

Mordtmann 1862 Norris 1855 Paper 1955 Parpola 1974

Reiner 1969 Steinkeller 1987–1990 Stève 1992 Stolper 1982 Stolper 2004

Tavernier 2004

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Hinz, W. Neue Wege im Altpersischen (GOF 3/Ir 1). Wiesbaden. Hinz, W. Altiranisches Sprachgut der Nebenüberlieferungen (GOF 3/Ir 3). Wiesbaden. Holtzmann, H. Ueber die zweite Art der Achämenidischen Keilschrift. ZDMG 5:145–178. Hüsing, G. Elamische Studien. I (MVAG 3/7). Berlin. Khačikyan, M. Notes on Elamite Phonology. SMEA 35: 105–109. Khačikyan, M. The Elamite Language (Documenta Asiana 4). Roma. Koch, H. Die religiösen Verhältnisse der Dareioszeit: Untersuchungen an Hand der elamischen Persepolistäfelchen (GOF 3/ Ir 4). Wiesbaden. Krebernik, M. Elamisch. Streck, M. P. (ed.). Sprachen des alten Orients. Darmstadt. Pp. 159–182. Krebernik, M. Philologische Aspekte elamisch-mesopotamischer Beziehungen im Überblick. B&B 3:61–99. Labat, R. Structure de la langue élamite (état présent de la question). Conférences de l’Institut de Linguistique de Paris 9:23–42. McAlpin, D. Proto-Elamo-Dravidian: The Evidence and Its Implications (Transactions of the American Philosophical Society 71/3). Philadelphia. Mordtmann, A. D. Erklärung der Keilinschriften zweiter Gattung. ZDMG 16:1–126. Norris, E. Memoir on the Scythic Version of the Behistun Inscription. JRAS 15:1–213. Paper, H. H. The Phonology and Morphology of Royal Achaemenid Elamite. Ann Arbor. Parpola, S. The alleged Middle/Neo-Assyrian Irregular Verb *na´´ and the Assyrian Sound Change š > s. Assur 1/1:1–10. Reiner, E. The Elamite Language. Friedrich, J. (ed.). Altkleinasiatische Sprachen (HdO I 2/1–2/2). Leiden. Pp. 54–118. Steinkeller, P. Man-ištūšu. A. Philologisch. RlA 7:334– 335. Stève, M.-J. Syllabaire élamite: histoire et paléographie (CPOP 1). Neuchâtel–Paris. Stolper, M. W. On the Dynasty of Šimaški and the Early Sukkalma¶s. ZA 72:42–67. Stolper, M. W. Elamite. Woodard, R. (ed.). The Cambridge Encyclopedia of the World’s Ancient Languages. Cambridge. Pp. 60–94. Tavernier, J. Some Thoughts on Neo-Elamite Chronology. Arta: Achaemenid Research on Texts and Archaeology (http://www. achemenet.com/ressources/enligne/arta/table.htm).

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Tavernier 2007

Vallat 1996

Vallat 2000

Vallat 2002–2003 Vallat 2004 Vallat 2006 Waters 2000 Weidner 1917 Weissbach 1890 Westergaard 1845 Whiting 1987 Zadok 1984

Tavernier, J. Iranica in the Achaemenid Period (ca. 550–330 B. C.). Lexicon of Old Iranian Proper Names and Loanwords, Attested in Non-Iranian Texts (OLA 158). Leuven. Vallat, F. Nouvelle analyse des inscriptions néo-élamites. Gasche, H.; Hrouda, B. (eds.). Collectanea Orientalia. Histoire, Arts de l’espace et industrie de la terre: Études offertes en hommage à Agnès Spycket (CPOA 1). Neuchâtel. Pp. 385– 395. Vallat, F. Le ‘clergé’ élamite. Graziani, S. (ed.). Studi sul vicino oriente antico, dedicata alla memoria di Luigi Cagni. Napoli. Pp. 1065–1074. Vallat, F. Suse G. La religion suso-élamite. SDB 74:529– 553. Vallat, F. Le cylindre de Úute-kazan et la chronologie des premiers sukkalma¶. Akkadica 125:135–140. Vallat, F. Atta-¶amiti-Inšušinak, Šutur-Na¶¶unte et la chronologie néo-élamite. Akkadica 127:59–62. Waters, M. W. A Survey of Neo-Elamite History (SAAS 12). Helsinki. Weidner, E. F. Studien zur hethitischen Sprachwissenschaft (LSS 7/1–2). Leipzig. Weissbach, F. H. Die Achämenideninschriften zweiter Art. Leipzig. Westergaard, N. L. Zur Entzifferung der Achämenidischen Keilschrift zweiter Gattung. ZKM 6:337–466. Whiting, R. Old Babylonian Letters from Tell Asmar (AS 22). Chicago. Zadok, R. The Elamite Onomasticon (AION Sup 40). Napoli.

Papers outside the Main Subjects

Religion and Ideology

Pu¶ru: Assembly as a Political Institution in Enūma eliš (Preliminary Study) Vitali Bartash The State University of Belarus, Minsk

This paper is based on a premise that the creators of Mesopotamian myths and epics put, voluntary or unintentionally, their own knowledge into their works. The knowledge reflects, to some extent, the sociopolitical realities of the historical stages, which are scarcely reflected in contemporary sources. As a result, the analysis of the evolution of the assembly institution in “Enūma eliš” can provide a model of kingship’s genesis in Mesopotamia. § 1. Introduction The Babylonian cosmological poem “Enūma eliš” is considered an apologetics of despotic king’s power. Th. Jacobsen has shown that “Enūma eliš” ’s plot describes the evolution of political institutions and postulates absolute despotic monarchy as a self-evident and final stage of the development of the political system (Jacobsen 1976:212). In spite of this, the words šarru ‘king’ and šarrūtu ‘kingship’ are found only 22 times in the poem’s text. On the contrary, the words which denote the assembly—a social-political institute of communal ruling—are mentioned 40 times. These two words are pu¶ru and ukkinnu, the latter being a derivate from sum. ukkin and is a synonym of the former.1 Moreover, it should be noted that about a half of the poem’s 1092 verses (Talon 2005) are intended to describe assembly meetings. Therefore, it is reasonable to consider Enūma eliš as an excellent source for investigating the assembly institution in Ancient Mesopotamia. The assembly—pu¶ru (sum. unken < u×3 ‘people’ + ken ‘circle’, Dia1

E. g.: pu-u¶-ru šit-ku-na-ma (II 12); ukkin-na šit-ku-na-ma (II 18). Cf. in parallel passages: ad-di ta-a-ka AŠ UKKIN DINGIR.DINGIR (I 153); [ad]-di ta-a-ka i-na pu-¶ur DINGIRmeš. Thus, we can read UKKIN as ukkinnu only when it is written ukkin-na (contrast Talon 2005:120, 124). The use of ukkinnu is a poetic device intended to avoid mentioning too often the word pu¶ru.

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konoff 1967:50)—is a public meeting of all competent community members (Diakonoff (ed.) 1983:366). Assembly as a social-political institute is often found in Mesopotamian myths and epics. It is known that the communal system in Ancient Mesopotamia was long-lasting and conservative. It is manifested by the fact that this social-political structure was translated into the gods’ world: an assembly of gods, a council of the eldest gods; a chief-god (Diakonoff 1990:77). Тh. Jacobsen observed that up to the fall of the Ur III dynasty and maybe later, in spite of the true monarchy having dominated Mesopotamia’s inhabitants, the gods’ world continued to be interpreted as a primitive democracy (Jacobsen 1976:215). It was only from the second half of the II millennium B. C. on that Marduk’s absolute monarchy got established in the Babylonian gods’ kingdom. On the basis of the premise that the social-political institutions have been transferred to the gods’ world it is possible to formulate the main methodological approach of this research—to regard the information about the assembly in Enūma eliš as historical evidence. However, here we are faced with the following difficulty: the historical facts reconstructed on the basis of myths and epics could be at least twice distorted—first, when the ancient man transferred his ideas into the gods’ world; and second, when the modern researcher tries to find a grain of historical truth in a myth. Nevertheless, as stated by Lambert– Millard (1969:13), “the sociological system described [in epics] was that which they [ancient people] actually knew …”. This kind of reconstruction yielded good results in the study of Classical antiquity; the Homeric poems’ investigation sets an example of that. There is, consequently, hardly any reason to ignore this method in the Ancient Near Eastern Studies, the more so since such precedents are actually known in the history of research into Mesopotamian epics and folklore (Diakonoff 1966; Kaneva 1964). Gods’ world in Ee can be considered as a model society—a totality of persons, within which everyone fulfills some particular function and takes an appointed position in the social structure. One limitation on the use of Ee for the reconstruction of social-political reality is that it cannnot be used for the study of that stratum of society which was connected to the temple: with few exceptions, the protagonists of Ee are gods, and they could not be responsible for their own cult. Conversely, as for the communal institutes, the figure of the king and his courtiers, Ee and some other texts (e. g. Lambert–Millard 1969:21) are unique sources for recon-

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struction of social-political processes at the early stages of Mesopotamian civilization. As stated above, the fact that the divine society in Ee is to some extent a model of a real society, can hardly be doubted. The question is rather: what epoch does this model belong to? From the very beginning of research on Ee it was clear that the poem is of composite nature—that is why it was possible to decompose the poem’s text into several plots used by one or several author(s) in its composition (King 1902 I lxvii). Therefore, the poem cannot reflect the sociopolitical features of one single and definite period of Mesopotamian history. At the modern stage of the study of Ee (which does not stand too far apart from L. W. King’s work) we can only suppose that at the time when Ee was created the word lugal was still used in the meaning ‘military chief ’ till (late second millennium, Horowitz 1998:108). We must assume that, because of its complex character, Ee reflects the peculiarities of sociopolitical reality of different periods of ancient Mesopotamian history. The possibility of distinguishing between probable sources—and, thus, layers of different chronological periods—in Ee can be established only after all sociopolitical institutions mentioned in the poem are defined and described. The present paper is concerned with the assembly (pu¶ru). The tasks of the research are: 1. To detect lexical meanings of the word pu¶ru within the text of Ee. 2. To analyze all assemblies which were held within the plot of Ee, to define causes for the assembly’s convocation, its membership, model of its conducting and the assembly’s resolutions (see the table below). 3. To provide a model of the assembly’s functioning. This is achieved by considering the mutual relations between lugal and the assembly. In addition, this would make possible to answer an important question: how did lugal come to power and how his power did surpass the power of the assembly?

§ 2. Lexical meaning of the word pu¶ru in Ee Throughout Ee there are seven assemblies. How can we identify when does an assembly begin and when does it stop? An assembly’s beginning is marked by narration, where the following words are used. –

pu¶ru ‘assembly’: innišqū a¶u a¶i ina pu¶ri (UKKIN) ‘They kissed each other at the assembly’ (III 132); innendūma pu-¶ur-šu-nu … ‘they gathered at their assembly’ (V 87);

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–

ukkinnu ‘assembly,’ e. g.: ukkin-na šitkunūma ‘they have organized the assembly’ (I 132); ubšukkinnakku ‘court of the assembly’: ina ub-šu-ukkin-na-ki ina ub-šuukkin-na-ki uš-ta-di-nu šu-nu mil-kat3-su-un ‘they consult each other at the assembly’ (VI 162); forms of the verb pa¶āru: pa-a¶-ru-ma dIgigî kalīšun dAnukkī ‘Igigi have gathered—all Anunnaki’ (II 121); [pa]¶-ru-ma dIgigī kalīšunu uškinnūš(u) ‘Igigi have gathered, they prostrated themselves in front of him’ (V 85). The termination of each assembly can be easily identified by the context.

The word pu¶ru in Ee can be used in the following meanings. 1. Pu¶ru—‘assembly’ as an institution of the communal ruling, for example: ina ilāni bukrīša šūt iškunūši p[u-u¶-ra] ‘among gods, her children, who organized the assembly for her’ (I 147), mu’errūtu pu-u¶-ru ‘leadership at the assembly’ (I 149), pu-u¶2-ru šitkunatma ‘she organized the assembly’ (II 12), etc. 2. Pu¶ru—‘(a site where) an assembly (takes place),’ for example: innišqū a¶u a¶i ina pu¶ri (UKKIN) ‘they kissed each other at the assembly’ (III 132); tišamma ina pu¶ri (UKKIN) ‘sit down at the assembly!’ (IV 15); ūšibūma ina pu¶rīšunu (UKKIN-šu2-nu)2 ‘they have sat at their assembly’ (IV 165). This meaning is a clear example of metonymy, when the semantics ‘institution’ is carried over to the place where this institution occurs.3 The locative aspect of this meaning is stressed by the preposition ina. The meaning of pu¶ru in Ee I 55 is uncertain: mimmû ikpudū pu¶ruššun ‘everything that they have schemed … they.’ Translation of this passage is faced with the following difficulties. 1. In this context, pu¶ru cannot have an institutional meaning as only two protagonists (Apsu and Mummu) are involved.4 2. The root mlk is semantically related to pu¶ru, but does not elucidate its meaning in the present context.5

2

Talon (2005:69) has ina ukkin-šu2-nu, but if it were ukkinnu, it would be written something like ina ukkin-ni-šu2-nu. 3 Cf. on the contrary: bītu ‘house’ and ‘family’ (CAD B 282)—that is “people who live in the house.” In this case, the meaning shift is from place to social institution. 4 Mummu’s title (sukallu—I 30, 48) means that Mummu’s immediate chief must bear the title lugal. But why Apsu bears no such title in the poem’s text? It is quite possible that Apsu is not titled as lugal because he is a negative character and the author, standing on Marduk’s side, simply cannot name Apsu as lugal, because it is Marduk who must acquire this title in the future.

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3. It seems that this line was obscure for the ancients too, cf. the spelling variation in the copies6.

The main subject of the present paper is pu¶ru in its institutional sense (as mentioned above, ukkinnu is a full synonym of pu¶ru, the difference is probably only stylistic). Historically, this meaning is the primary one— originally the assembly was a meeting of the community and only afterwards the place where such a meeting occurred also began to be called ‘assembly’. In the following table boundaries of all the assemblies mentioned in “Ee” and their significant characteristics are identified. Table. Assemblies in Enūma eliš Part I 1. The assembly

2. Cause for the assembly

3. Who organized the assembly (the assembly’s membership)

4. For whom is the assembly organized 5

The assembly of mutinous gods7 (hereafter—Tiamat’s “party”) (a) (I 132–162): b) In retelling of Ea to Anshar (II 12–48); c) Anshar to his messenger Gaga (III 16–52); d) Gaga to Lahmu and Lahamu (III 74–110); ukkin-na šitkunūma (I 132). 1. The murder of Apsu and the capture of Mummu (I 113– 114, 117–118). The demand to take vengeance on Ea’s “party” (gimillašun terrī) (I 123). 2. Anu creates ‘the wind of four (sides of the earth)’ (šār erbetti), which horrifies Tiamat’s “party” (I 115). 3. The necessity to remove the unrelenting yoke (šutbî abšāna lā sākipi), which hinders Tiamat’s “party” from having a rest (I 122). a) The gods belonging to the “party” of Tiamat (ukkin-na šitkunūma) (I 132); b, c, d) According to Ea (II 12), Anshar (III 16) and Gaga (III 74), the assembly is organized by Tiamat (pu¶ru šitkunatma). As Apsu is killed, Tiamat turns into the assembly leader; this fact finds confirmation in her ‘majestic and incomparable’ commands (gapšā têrētūša lā ma¶rā šināma) (I 145). For Tiamat (ina ilāni bukrīša šūt iškunūši pu¶ra—I 147). The assembly, organized by the mutinous gods, cannot be considered valid, so it must be legitimized in the course of its work.

I 47–48: i-pul-ma dMu-um-mu Apsû (ZU.AB) i-ma-al-lik; suk-kal-lum la ma-gi-ru mi-lik mu-um-mi-šu. I. e. Mummu advises Apsu to destroy the gods and this fact is called pu¶ru in I 55. 6 (A) i-na pu-u¶2-ru-šu-[un] (prep. + subst., loc.-adv.); (p) [pu-u]¶?-ri-šu-un (= pu¶rī-šun (prep. + subst., gen.) or pu¶riš-šun (subst., term.-adv.)); (AA) ina (AŠ) pu-u¶-ra-ni-x (maybe ina pu¶rāniš-šun?) (Talon 2005:35). 7 Dispersing of Tiamat’s assembly and, correspondingly, her “party” by Marduk takes place after his victory over Tiamat (ki´rī-ša uptarrira pu¶urša issapha—IV 106).

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Religion and Ideology 1. Battle planning (ibannû ´ūlāti) (I 132). 2. Building up of the army through Tiamat’s begetting of various monsters (134–143). 3. An attempt to legitimize the assembly. Tiamat equates dragons with gods (iliš umtaššil—I 138) by means of imparting ‘fearsomeness’ (pul¶ata/-āti ušalbiš-ma) and melammu (sg. or pl.) to them (melamma/-u/-ē uštaššâ) (I 137–138; II 23–24; III 27–28, 85–86). Apparently, the equation of monsters to gods is needed to increase the quantity of gods on Tiamat’s side to legitimize her assembly. 4. Enthronization as the act of legitimating. Tiamat enthrones (by means of uttering an incantation—I 153) one of the gods who have organized the assembly for her—Kingu (I 147–148). Matrimony is a way of transition of power8 (¶ā’ir-ī — I 155) by which Tiamat transfers the ruler’s functions to her husband (ipqidma qātuššu—I 152). Thus, Kingu acquires the title of the assembly’s leader (mu’errūtu pu¶ru—I 149). 1. Tiamat transfers the ruler’s functions to Kingu (I 154). Kingu becomes the leader of the gods. This opinion is confirmed by his titles and functions: – ālikūt ma¶ri pān ummāni—the leader of troops (I 149); – mu’errūtu pu¶ru—the leader at the assembly (I 149); – dēkû ananta—the beginner of struggle (I 150); – rab-sikkatūtu—the chief of peg (I 151). 2. Tiamat makes Kingu sit on the throne (?) (ušēšibaššu ina karri—I 152). 3. Henceforth, Kingu possesses the power of all the gods (malikūt ilāni gimrassunu—I 154). – He is high-ranking (ēdû—I 155). – His commands spread upon all Anunnaki, i. e. upon all gods in general (I 156). 4. Kingu acquires the destinies’ tablet (I 157).9 5. Kingu acquires Anūtu—leadership of the gods (I 159). 6. After acceding to the leader’s post, Kingu proclaims the destruction of Ea’s “party” (I 161–162). Thus Tiamat obtained what she wished—a legitimate way to take vengeance on her foes.

This marriage cannot be legitimate from the point of view of Mesopotamian family law, as in casu the woman chose her husband by herself. Marduk denotes the illegitimate character of such a marriage in his accusation of Tiamat before their battle (tambê Kingu ana ¶ā’irūtīki—IV 81). Then Marduk declares that Kingu has acquired power which is inappropriate to him (ana lā simātīšu taškunīš(u) ana para´ enūti—IV 82). Thus, from the point of view of Tiamat’s opponents, Kingu is a usurper. 9 After Tiamat had been defeated, Marduk took away the tablet of destinies from Kingu, sealed it with his own seal and put it on his own chest (IV 121–122).

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7. Functions of the assembly

1. Legitimization of power. Creating, by means of the assembly, a legitimate power, under whose protection Tiamat could avenge and at the same time fulfill the demands of those gods who supported her. 2. Enthronization. 3. Initiation of the military action.

1. The Assembly 2. Cause for the assembly 3. Who organized the assembly (the assembly’s membership) 4. For whom is the assembly organized 5. Progress of work during the assembly

Common assembly of Ea’s “party” (II 121–162):10 pa-a¶-ru-ma Igigî kalīšun Anukkī (II 88). Failure of Anshar in his attempt to pacify Tiamat by sending Ea and Anu (II 49–120). All gods (Igigî kalīšunu Anukkī—II 88) (except for the gods of Tiamat’s “party”?).

Part II

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1. The assembly begins in silence (II 122), as the gods do not know, who will dare to come forward to Tiamat after Ea’s and Anu’s failure (II 123). 2. According to Ea’s plan (ka-inim-ma-ak) (CAD K 36), Marduk appears before Anshar and volunteers to kill Tiamat and avenge the gods (II 136–142, 145–148). 3. In return for rescuing the gods, Marduk’s conditions are as follows: a) organization of the assembly (šuknāma pu-u¶-ra—II 158) in the court of the assemblies (ina ub-šu-ukkin-na-ki—II 159); b) proclaiming Marduk’s destiny as a supreme one (šūterā (n)ibâ šīmt-ī—II 158); c) right to rule the destinies (ipšu pîja kīma kâtunūma šīmata lušimma—II 160);

When Marduk had finished the creation of the universe, he transferred the tablet of destinies to Anu (V 70). This fact does not mean that Marduk disclaimed lugal’s responsibility—when Anshar embraces Marduk, the latter is titled as ‘king’ (īdiršumma Anšar (ana) šarri (LUGAL) šulma ušāpīma—V 79). In addition, Marduk was mentioned as the king in V 88 (izzizū iknušū annāma (ana) šarri (LUGAL)), i. e. before the kingship has finally moved to Marduk. 10 In casu the word pu¶ru is not used, but use of the verb pa¶āru and the context (pa¶rūma dIgigî kalīšunu dAnukkī —II 88) denote that the gods of Ea’s “party” gathered exactly at the assembly.

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Religion and Ideology d) nothing that Marduk commanded or created could be changed or abolished (lā uttakkar mimmû abannû anāku; aj itūr aj innennâ siqar šaptī-ja—II 161–162). Apparently, the assembly finished after Marduk had stipulated the terms of the treaty. We can see the results of this assembly from the beginning of tablet III: Anshar as the head of the assembly sends his messenger Gaga to the elder gods Lahmu and Lahamu11 to bring them to the assembly (III 4–6). To produce a deeper impression, Anshar orders Gaga to retell them the story about Tiamat’s preparations and her horrible plan. This, in turn, must bring all the gods (lîbukūnimma ilāni nagabšun—III 7) in order to gather the assembly in its fullest strength: all gods, including the elder ones. Thus, the gods of the public assembly, with Anshar at the head, accepted the terms of Marduk. 1. Recommendation for a (lugal’s) position. 2. Approval or rejection of a pretender.

Part III 1. The assembly 2. Cause for the assembly 3. Who organized the assembly (the assembly’s membership) 4. For whom is the assembly organized 5. Progress of work during the assembly

Assembly of the great gods—transfer of the lugal’s title to Marduk (III 130 – IV 34): innišqū a¶u a¶i ina pu¶ri (UKKIN) (III 132). Approval of Marduk’s terms in the public assembly. The great gods who declare destinies (ilū rabûtu kalīšunu mušimmu šīmāti—III 130). Anshar heads the assembly (III 131).

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1. Salutation. Gods greet each other with kisses (III 132). 2. Banquet. The gods join the discussion which begins in the form of a banquet. The gods eat cereals and drink kurunnu-beer. After the gods get drunk, they declare Marduk’s destiny (III 133–138). 3. The laying of the cult dais (parakku) at the assembly. This act symbolizes creation of new authority (iddûšumma parak rubûti—IV 1). 4. Marduk occupies the parakku in front of his ‘fathers’ (the elder gods) for ruling (ma¶ariš abbē-šu ana malikūti irme—

11 The fragment III 125–128 means that Lahmu, Lahamu and many other gods did not know about Tiamat’s plans and were neuter with respect to the conflict before Gaga’s message.

V. Bartash, Pu¶ru: Assembly as a Political Institution…

6. Resolutions

7. Functions of the assembly

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IV 2). Taking the cult platform at the assembly symbolizes that Marduk has acquired a new kind of power. 5. The gods define Marduk’s power as lugal (see resolutions). 6. The gods raise demands to lugal (see resolutions). 7. Checking of a new lugal (IV 19–26). The gods want to check the power of Marduk’s word and create a star (lumāšu12). They request Marduk to destroy the star by his utterance (ipšu pîka) and then to return it back. Marduk carries out this task with success. 8. Proclamation of the king and handing the signs of the king’s dignity (scepter, throne and reign) to Marduk (Mardukma šarru—IV 28; u´´ibūšu ¶a¢¢a kussâ u palâ—IV 29). 9. The gods give Marduk the weapon, that cannot be withstood and order him to destroy Tiamat (IV 30–32). The spheres of Marduk’s authority. 1. Marduk is proclaimed as the pre-eminent god among the great gods (attāma kabtāta ina ilāni rabûti) (IV 3), his destiny is incomparable (IV 4), no one can go by his side (IV 10). 2. Marduk’s command is Anu (IV 4), i. e. the supreme power. His order cannot be changed (IV 7). 3. Marduk can demote and promote anyone he wants (IV 8), i. e. all the gods become his subordinates. 4. Marduk acquires kingship of the whole universe (niddinka šarrūtu kiššat kal gimrēti—IV 14). The gods’ requests to Marduk. 1. He must provide the gods’ sanctuaries, so their sanctuaries must be carried to Marduk’s abode (IV 11–12). 2. Marduk must avenge the gods (IV 13). 3. Marduk must seat in the assembly, though his word will be lofty (IV 15). Thus, a new lugal must coordinate his actions with the assembly of the great gods. 4. The gods request personal immunity for the gods who trust him, but punishment for those who ‘have learned evil,’ i. e. for the “party” of Tiamat (IV 17–18). 1. The treaty between the lugal’s title pretender and the assembly. Determination of the king’s authority and raising demands to the pretender. 2. Enthronization. 3. Initiation of a military action.

CAD L 245: lumāšu, 2.

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Part IV 1. The assembly 2. Cause for the assembly 3. Who organized the assembly (the assembly’s membership) 4. For whom is the assembly organized 5. Progress of work during the assembly

Common assembly—enthronization of king Lugal-dimmer-ankia (V 85–156). ([pa]¶-ru-ma Igigî kalīšunu uškinnūš(u); Anunnakī mala bašû …; innendūma pu¶uršunu labāniš appi—V 85–87). 1. Marduk defeats Tiamat. 2. Marduk creates the universe. Igigi and Anunnaki (V 85–86).

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1. The assembly expresses its respect to the king (V 86–88). 2. Marduk accepts the signs of the king’s dignity. Marduk puts on ‘melammu of kingship’—the tiara of fearsome appearance (melammē šarrūti agâ rašubbati—V 94) and takes other signs of the king’s dignity,13 he hangs up the scepter of ‘well-being and attention’ at his side (ušpar šulme u tašmî iduššu īlul—V 100). 3. Providing with the throne name—transmission of the kingship. Lahmu and Lahamu appeal to the assembly and inform it that earlier Marduk was the beloved ‘son,’ but now he is the king with the throne name ‘King of the gods of the universe’ (lugal-dim3-me-er-an-ki-a) and when he speaks the assembly must be mindful (V 107–122). So the final transmission of the kingship comes true (V 113). 4. Broadening of the king’s functions and authorities (see resolutions). 5. The king makes a decision to build his temple at the assembly (V 122–129). He explains his decision as a need for an evening rest place for the gods (V 125–128). 6. The gods request from Marduk to create beings, which would be responsible for regular offerings and would carry out hard labor of the captured gods14 (V 139–142). 7. After a consensus between Marduk and the gods, the latter agree to proclaim him as their king under his throne name and urge Marduk to fulfill his plans (V 146–156).

13 ‘The divine weapon’ he takes in his right hand (V 95), what he takes in his left hand is unknown, because the text here is broken (V 96). 14 A labor service was imposed exactly upon Tiamat’s former supporters—VII 27–29: ša an-ilāni kamûti iršû tajjāru; abšāna endū ušassiku eli ilāni nakkirīšu; ana padîšunu ibnû amēlūtu ‘He is that, who had mercy to the bound gods; the yoke was imposed upon them—he allowed to put (it) off from his enemies; for their liberation he created the humanity.’

V. Bartash, Pu¶ru: Assembly as a Political Institution… 6. Resolutions

7. Functions of the assembly

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Functions of the king 1. The king must provide the divine sanctuaries (attā lū zāninu parakkīni—V 115). 2. The authority of the king broadens—henceforth, the king may command everything he likes (mimmû attā taqabbû i nīpuš nīni—V 116). 1. Providing with the throne name—the final transmission of the kingship to Marduk. 2. Providing with new authorities—henceforth, Marduk and the assembly are not in an equal position. Now the assembly must keep silence when the king speaks or commands and the assembly must execute the orders.

Part V 1. The Assembly 2. Cause for the assembly

3. Who organized the assembly (the assembly’s membership) 4. For whom is the assembly organized 5. Progress of work during the assembly

The assembly of the great gods. Kingu’s trial (VI 17–58). d Marduk u2-pa¶-¶ir-ma ilāni rabûti (VI 17). 1. The order of the gods (dMarduk zikri ilāni ina šemêšu— VI 1; (Ea): aššu tapšu¶ti ša ilāni ušannâššu ¢ēmu—VI 12) to make them free from their hard labor. Ea sees the fulfillment of this condition in the execution of one of the rebel gods and creation of man (linnadnamma ištēn a¶ūšu; šū li’abbitma nišū lippatqū—VI 13–14). 2. Alteration of the ‘ways of life’ (alkakātu) of gods by means of dividing them into two classes (VI 9–10). Marduk gathered the assembly of the great gods ([Ea commands]: lip-¶u-ru-nim-ma ilānu rabûtu—VI 15; Marduk u2-pa¶¶ir-ma ilāni rabûti—VI 17).

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1. Marduk orders and gives instructions to which gods must adhere (VI 18–19). He demands from the gods to give out the god who incited Tiamat to rebellion (VI 23–26). The gods hand out Kingu (VI 29–30). 2. The execution of Kingu. Ea creates humanity with Kingu’s blood through Marduk’s ‘artful designs’ (ina niklāti ša Marduk) (VI 31–38). 3. Marduk divides the gods into two parts and settles them in the recently created heaven and earth. Marduk prescribes Anu to keep his instructions (VI 39–44). 4. Marduk ‘divides the shares’ to the gods (uza’’izu isqassun —VI 46), i. e. he defines the roles/functions of the gods. 5. The (rebel) gods thank Marduk for granting amnesty to them (šubarrû) (VI 49).

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Religion and Ideology 6. The gods ask and get Marduk’s permission to build Babylon (VI 50–58). 1. The handing out of Kingu to the assembly’s court. 2. Creation of humanity. 3. Marduk announces the amnesty to the rebel gods and reforms the divine society. 4. Marduk appoints Anu to keep his instructions. 5. The gods get the king’s consent to build Babylon. 1. The assembly as a judicial authority. The assembly as a place of execution. 2. The assembly is the place where the king announces his amnesty, utters commands and makes appointments. 3. The decisions of the assembly must be approved by the king (e. g. the plan of the building).

Part VI 1. The assembly 2. Cause for the assembly 3. Who organized the assembly (the assembly’s membership) 4. For whom is the assembly organized 5. Progress of work during the assembly

6. Resolutions

Common assembly after building Babylon (VI 67–94). Finishing of Esagil’s building (VI 67). Igigi and Anunnaki (300 Igigî ša šamāmī u 600 ša Apsî kalīšunu pa¶-ru—VI 69).

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1. Marduk sits down on the ‘great dais for a sanctuary’ (parama¶¶u, BARAG.MAÚ) (VI 70). 2. Marduk invites the great gods (‘his fathers’) to the banquet in Babylon (VI 71–76). 3. Offerings in Esagil temple (VI 77). 4. All instructions and ordinances are being determined (têrēti nap¶aršina u´urāti—VI 78). 5. Division of positions in the heaven and the earth among the gods (VI 79). 6. Fifty great gods choose seven gods of destinies (VI 80–81). 7. Anu places the bow at the assembly of the great gods by which Marduk killed Tiamat (VI 82–92). 8. Anu lays the ‘throne of kingship’ (kussi šarrūti) at the assembly (VI 93–94). 1. Dividing functions among celestial and terrestrial gods. 2. The great gods elect the judicial body (seven gods of destinies).

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3. Introduction of Marduk’s bow into the assembly of the great gods. 4. Establishment of the king’s throne at the assembly— symbolizes the subordinate position of the assembly. 1. Assembly is the place where the king appoints the administrative positions. 2. Public assembly ceases to be a political authority. 3. The assembly of the great gods possesses broader authority—they at least choose the judicial body. 4. The function of admission of new members into the assembly of the great gods.

Part VIIa 1. The assembly 2. Cause for the assembly 3. Who organized the assembly (assembly’s membership) 4. For whom is the assembly organized 5. Progress of work during the assembly

6. Resolutions

7. Functions of the assembly

The assembly of the great gods—transmission of divine names to Marduk (VI 95–160): ip-¶u-ru-nim-ma ilānu rabûtu (VI 95). Fifty great gods elevate Marduk’s destiny and prostrate themselves (šīmat dMarduk ullû šunu uškinnū—VI 96) The assembly of fifty great gods (VI 95).

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1. The great gods curse themselves and swear to Marduk in an act of loyalty (VI 97–98). 2. In this way, the great gods transfer performance of the kingship and supremacy over the gods of the heaven and earth to Marduk (VI 99–100). 3. Anshar, Lahmu and Lahamu pronounce Marduk’s new divine names. Then they order (siqaršun—VI 161) other great gods (VII 143–144) to utter the names of Marduk the king (VI 101–160). 1. The oath of the subjects to their king. The final transmission of the kingship from the gods to Marduk. 2. Marduk is named by the divine names. Thereby, the gods outline (but not prescribe) Marduk’s functions and authorities. 1. The place where the subjects swear. 2. Transmission of the kingship. 3. Praising of the ruler. 4. The assembly of the great gods obeys the orders of the ruler.

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Part VIIb 1. The assembly

2. Cause for the assembly 3. Who organized the assembly (the assembly’s membership) 4. For whom is the assembly organized 5. Progress of work during the assembly

6. Resolutions

7. Functions of the assembly

The assembly of the great gods—performing rites and transmitting the divine names to Marduk (VI 161 – VII 144); ina ub-šu-ukkin-na-ki uštaddinū šunu milkassun (VI 162); ūšibūma ina pu¶rīšunu (UKKIN-šu2-nu) (VI 165). This assembly is a logical continuation of the former one, so they can be considered as a single one. Transmission of the divine names to Marduk = transmission of the power belonging to the great gods assembly (VI 160). The assembly of fifty great gods (ina zikri ¶anšā ilānu rabûtu; ¶anšā šumēšu imbû … —VII 143–144).

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The great gods consult each other15 in the court of the assembly (VI 162), then they sit down at the assembly and name destinies to Marduk in the form of a ritual (ina mēsī nagbāšunu uzakkirūni šumšu) (VI 165–166). Then the great gods utter the divine names of Marduk16 (VII 1–144). 1. Marduk acquires the names of fifty great gods. This fact means that the whole power is transferred to him. 2. Henceforth, Marduk is responsible for convening of meetings (mukīn pu¶ri (UKKIN) ša ilāni … —VII 37), i. e. the authority of the assembly appears to be in a subordinate position relative to the king’s authority. Henceforth, the king may or may not convene the assembly of the great gods. The end of political power of the elders’ assembly.

§ 3. Divine hierarchy in Ee The theory of “seven assemblies” is based on the division of the gods into ‘(all) gods’ (ilū) and ‘great gods’ (ilū rabûtu)—a small part of the totality of gods. In order to prove such a division, designations of the gods in Ee 15 The author of Ee believes that the main reason for the gods to transfer the completeness of power to Marduk is that he avenged them by killing Tiamat (VI 163) and he became the provider (zāninu) of the gods (VI 164). 16 One of Marduk’s names is of considerable interest, namely dZI.UKKIN.NA. It is rendered by the author of Ee as napišti ummānīšu (VII 15), ‘the life of a crowd/troop(s)’ (AHw. 1413: ummānu). This fact shows that originally the (public/common) assembly included all members of the community capable to bear arms.

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must be investigated. According to the text these are: (A) Igigi and Anunnaki; (B) gods-fathers; (C) all the gods (usually DINGIR.DINGIR or DINGIRMEŠ); (D) the great gods (usually DINGIR.DINGIR GAL.GAL or DINGIRMEŠ GALMEŠ); (E) the gods of destinies (DINGIRMEŠ NAMMEŠ). A. Igigi and Anunnaki. The analysis of the usage of the theonyms “Anunnaki” and “Igigi” throughout Ee reveals two co-existing traditions. 1. The first (and apparently original) tradition divides the gods into two classes—Igigi and Anunnaki—according to the following principle. The Anunnaki in Ee are the gods who joined the side of Tiamat (= ilū (DINGIRMEŠ) ka-mu-tum in IV 127). For the first time they are mentioned when Tiamat appoints Kingu as the leader of precisely these gods (I 156 ff.). Their second appearance is when Marduk grants them amnesty and they promise, in turn, that Marduk will be their lord henceforward. Then they start to carry out the labor service—they build Marduks temple Esagil.17 The Igigi in Ee are the gods who took the side of Ea (the “party” of Ea). Gaga tells about Tiamat’s preparations.18 These gods are named ‘the great gods.’19 This tradition differs immensely from that reflected in Atrahasis, where seven great Anunnaki impose on Igigi the burden of hard labour (Lambert–Millard 1969:5–6). 2. The later editor of Ee did not properly understand this division. In the second tradition, reflected in this later edition, Igigi and Anunaki are usually mentioned together with a general meaning ‘all gods.’20 There

17

li-ir-tab-bu-u2 zik-ru-ka eli (UGU) kalī(DU3)-šu2-nu dA-nu-uk-ki (I 156; II 42; III 46, 104); dA-nun-na-ki pa-a-šu-nu i-pu-šu-ma; a-na dMarduk (AMAR.UTU) be-li-šu2-nu šu-nu iz-zak-ru; i-dnanna be-li2 ša2 šu-bar-ra-ni taš-ku-nu-ma (VI 47–49); dA-nun-na-ki it-ru-ku al-la (VI 59). 18 (After the report of Gaga) dI2-gi3-gi3 nap-¶ar-šu2-nu i-nu-qu mar-şi-iš (III 126); (La¶mu and La¶āmu) i-pu-šu-ma pa-[a]-šu-nu i-[zak-ka-ru an-i]lī (DINGIR.]DINGIR) d I2-gi3-gi3 (V 108). 19 (To Marduk) i-pu-lu-šu-ma dI2-gi3-gi3 ilū (DINGIR.DINGIR) rabûtu (GAL)meš (VI 27); zik-ri dI2-gi3-gi3 im-bu-u na-gab-šu2-nu (VII 137). From the fact that in tablet VII Marduk acquires 50 divine names one can deduce that there are 50 Igigi with the meaning ‘the great gods.’ 20 pa-a¶-ru-ma dI2-gi3-gi3 ka-li-šu-un dA-nu-uk-[ki] (II 121); [pa]¶-ru-ma dI2-gi3-gi3 ka-li-šu2-nu uš-kin-nu-uš; [d]A-nun-na-ki ma-la ba-šu-u u2-na-aš2-ša2-qu šēpī(GIR3)min-šu2 (V 85–86); dA-nun-na-ki ka-li-šu2-nu pa-rak-ki-šu2-nu ib-taš-mu; 5 UŠ dI2-gi3-gi3 ša2 ša2ma-ma u 600 ša2 Apsî (ZU.AB) ka-li-šu2-nu (VI 68–69); (Marduk) mu-¢ib libbi (ŠA3bi) dAnun-na-ki mu-šap-ši-hu dI2-gi3-gi3 (VI 134); a-na dI2-gi3-gi3 u dA-nun-na-ki u2-za-’i-zu man-za-zu (VI 145).

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are, however, some cases where only Anunnaki are regarded as ‘all gods.’21 It should be emphasized that the division of the gods into two classes in Ee does not correlate with their connection with the heaven and the earth (cf. VI 40, 68–69). Thus, in Ee there is an original tradition where Anshar is represented as the ‘father of gods’ and 50 Igigi as the great gods. This tradition is opposed to a later editorial stratum where Anu is the ‘father of gods’ and Anunnaki, ‘those of Anu’ are the great gods. B. Gods-fathers. Judging from the use of the word abu ‘father’ in Ee, the following genealogical connections can be established. 1. Apsu is the father of Mummu (I 49). 2. Lahmu and Lahamu are the fathers of Anshar (III 6). 3. Lahmu and Lahamu are the fathers of Gaga (III 68). 4. Anshar and Kishar are the fathers of Anu (I 14). 5. Anshar is the father of the great gods (II 125). 6. Anshar is the father of Anu (I 19; II 103, 107, 109, 115). 7. Anshar is the father of Ea (II 8, 9, 11, 60, 61, 79, 85, 91). 8. Anshar is the father of Marduk (II 139, 145, 153, 154). 9. Anu is the father of Marduk (IV 44, 123, 147). 10. Ea is the father of Marduk (I 83, 89; II 127, 131, 135; VII 5(?)). 11. ‘The gods’ are the fathers of Ea (I 17). 12. ‘The great gods who determine the fates’ are the fathers of Marduk (IV 2). 13. ‘The gods’ are the fathers of Marduk (IV 27, 33, 64, 84, 133; V 72, 89, 118, 131; VI 71, 83, 85, 109, 126, 140; VII 13, 42, 47, 139). Diagram 2 summarizes the data of the abu-relationship in Ee. The following conclusions can be made. 1. In Ee, one can reveal a double system of kinship: kinship by birth and “subordinate kinship.” The latter means that the representatives of each superior generation are ‘the fathers’ of all subsequent generations. This feature of Ee is apparently an echo of the patrimonial relationship of the tribal epoch. 2. Anshar is the father of the great gods (II 125), Lahmu and Lahamu are not referred to as great gods.

21 d Marduk (AMAR.UTU) šarru (LUGAL) ilī (DINGIR.DINGIR) u2-za-’i-iz; dA-nun-na-ki gim-rat-su-nu e-liš u šap-liš (VI 39–40); ana (DIŠ) dA-nun-na-ki ša2 šamê (ANe) u er´etim (KItim) u-za-’i-zu is-qat-su-un (VI 46).

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3. ‘The gods-fathers’ of Marduk are to some extant identical with Lahmu and Lahamu (V 77). 4. ‘The great gods (who decree fates)’ and ‘gods’ are not the same, because Anshar is the father of the great gods, thus the great gods are his children (diagram 2). In turn, the term 'gods' is employed to designate progenitors of both Marduk and Ea, thus the gods belonging to the superior generations are named ‘gods.’ This point of view is confirmed by V 77–78: ‘The gods had seen him; their liver rejoiced joyfully; Lahmu and Lahamu, all his fathers.’ C. All gods. As far as ‘all gods’ or ‘(simply) gods’ are concerned, there are some peculiarities. Taking tablet I as an example, one can detect the following variant spellings. Spelling DINGIR.DINGIR—18 times. In 13 times the spelling DINGIR.DINGIR is found in the composite edition (I 7, 9, 34, 52, 56, 57, 99, 102, 110, 127, 128, 147, 153), but in the actual copies the variant spelling DINGIRMEŠ is found 10 times (I 7, 9, 34, 56, 57, 99, 110, 127, 147, 153) and even DINGIRME is attested once (I 128). Spelling DINGIRMEŠ—4 times (I 20, 21 (-ni/-nu), 80, 103). Two observations are in order here. 1. Apparently both spellings render the same meaning ‘all gods’22. The spellings DINGIR.DINGIR and DINGIRMEŠ are thus used randomly. 2. There are two confusing features. The first is that sometimes DINGIRMEŠ is used as a variant of DINGIR.DINGIR, but never vice versa. Secondly, there are two occasions where the meaning ‘gods’ is rendered fully or partly (I 21: DINGIRMEŠ-ni (H: -nu); VI 119: i-la-ni), which implies the form ilānī, with the particularising suffix -ān. It is tempting to suppose that all DINGIRMEŠ spellings were read ilānū/ī ‘the definite gods,’ ‘die Götter’, whereas the spelling DINGIR.DINGIR denoted ‘gods = (Pantheon), all gods,’ ‘Götter’ as in GAG §61 i. Cf. in-nin-du-ma at-¶u-u2 DINGIRMEŠ-ni (H: -nu) ‘the god-friends have gathered.’ The suffix -āni is used here firstly because ‘gods’ have an attribute (‘friends’) and secondly because they form a particular group of gods gathered to disturb Tiamat — thus only a part of all gods.

22

Cf. (Apsu and Mummu) a-na DINGIR.DINGIR (Q: DINGIRMEŠ) bu-uk-ri-šu-nu uštan-nu-ni ‘to (all) gods, their children, they repeated’ (I 56); le-e’-u2 le-e’-u2-ti ABGAL DINGIRMEŠ dEN [it]-tar-¶e-e-[ma] ‘the competent (of) competent, sage of (all) gods,’ Bel was poured out (I 80).

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If these observations are valid, random spelling of ‘gods’ may be accounted for by misunderstanding of the poem’s details by ancient editors or copyists. D. The great gods 1. Apsu is the progenitor of the great gods (I 29). 2. Anshar is the father of the great gods (II 125) and ‘the destiny of the great gods’ (II 155). 3. Babylon is a temple of the great gods (V 129). 4. Marduk orders the great gods to gather at the assembly (VI 15) and he gathers them (VI 17). 5. Igigi are the great gods (VI 27). 6. The great gods are responsible for fixing destinies (III 130). 7. Marduk is the most important among the great gods (IV 3, 5). 8. Marduk creates the stations for the great gods and fashions the stars and constellations—the gods’ likenesses (V 1–2). 9. Twice the great gods are mentioned as ‘50’: u2-ši-bu-ma ilū rabûtu (DINGIR.DINGIR GAL.GAL) (VI 74); ilū rabûtu (DINGIR.DINGIR GAL.GAL) ¶aam-šat-su-nu u2-ši-bu-ma (VI 80). The third occurrence can be deduced from VII 136–140 where the great gods transfer their names (50 + the names of Enlil (dEN.KUR.KUR) and Ea (dE.A)) to Marduk. E. The gods of destinies 1. Anshar is the god who fixes destinies (II 61, 63) for the great gods (II 155). 2. Gaga asks Lahmu and Lahamu to fix the destiny for Marduk (III 65, 123). 3. All the gods can fix destinies (they must fix them for Marduk who would avenge them) (II 158; III 10, 60, 118, 138). 4. All the gods (VI 161) name the destiny for Marduk (VI 165). 5. Marduk wants to acquire the right to fix destinies like the gods (III 62, 120). 6. Kingu as a king (but still an usurper) can fix destinies for the gods. With respect to Kingu, the gods are called mārū, which is another representation of “subordination” kinship. 7. The great gods fix destinies for Marduk (III 130; VI 96). 8. Great gods are the fixers of destinies (III 130). 9. Marduk is provided with his destiny by his ‘fathers’ (IV 33). 10. The main representation of power in Ee is ‘the tablet of destiny.’ Firstly Kingu (I 157; II 43; III 47, 105) but later Marduk (IV 121) and, finally, Anu (V 69–70) possess it.

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Thus, all the gods can fix destinies. The main rule is that a superior fixes the destiny for a subordinate. The gods of destinies as a class of gods are mentioned only twice: ilū šīmāti (DINGIR.DINGIR NAMMEŠ) sebe(7)-šu2-nu a-na purussî (EŠ.BAR) uk-tin-nu (VI 81); dA-ša2-ru ša2 ki-ma šu-mi-šu2 i-šu-ru ilī šīmāti (DINGIRMEŠ NAMMEŠ) (VII 122). Let us try to recapitulate. 1. The concept ‘gods’ in Ee can be used in two meanings: (a) gods in general—i. e. “all gods that exist”; (b) gods relevant for this or that particular instance—several gods or a part of gods’ society. In this sense, this term can subsume ‘the great gods,’ too. 2. 50 descendants of Anšar—namely Igigi—are called ‘the great gods.’ The great gods cannot be the Anunnaki gods, as in Ee the father of the gods is not Anu but Anšar. This subtle tenet partly reveals the purpose of the poem—to establish a new theology where, in opposition to the Sumerian system of gods’ kinship and distribution of power based on the supremacy of Anu, Marduk acquires the supreme power from the hands of an assembly headed by Anšar (cf. VII 97 where Marduk after acquisition of the domination is named in term of “subordinate” kinship: d A.RA2.NUN.NA … ba-an ilī (DINGIRMEŠ) abbī (ADMEŠ)-šu2). § 4. Public assembly and assembly of the elders The text of Ee distinguishes between two types of assembly. 1. The assembly of all gods, where all gods are present. There are three assemblies of this kind: the second, the fourth and the sixth. Finite forms of the verb pa¶āru (mostly pa¶rū—stative 3 pl. m.) prevail in the descriptions of these assemblies. This kind of assembly has a historical parallel in the form of a public assembly—an institution which includes all competent male members of the community. 2. The assembly of fifty great gods only, who determine and fix destinies. There are also three assemblies of this kind: the third, the fifth and the seventh. The word pu¶ru prevails in the description of these assemblies, and only few finite verbal forms occur (for example: Marduk upa¶¶irma ilāni rabûti ‘Marduk has gathered the great gods’—VI 17). In addition, the difference between two kinds of assembly is every time clearly indicated—whenever public assembly is meant, its general nature is always emphasized (Igigî kalīšunu Anukkī—II 121), in the case of the assembly of the great gods, its membership bears distinctly refined charac-

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ter (ilū rabûtu kalīšunu mušimmu šīmāti—III 130). The historical parallel to the later institution is the assembly or the council of the elders. The assembly of Tiamat and her supporters differs tremendously from other assemblies. The aim of this assembly is to find a way to avenge the hostile gods. The circumstances in which the assembly is held and, on the whole, the progress of its work clearly imply its illegal character. However, this “non-model,” extraordinary assembly does aim towards legitimating itself. This trend is patent when Tiamat equates the monsters with gods. Apparently thereby Tiamat seeks to establish a quorum, necessary for the transmission of the leader’s authority. After the death of Tiamat’s husband, who was a sort of community patriarch, she was unable to rule over the gods’ community, as historically it had a patriarchal character. Therefore she marries Kingu and thus delegates him all authority. Judging by the titles of Kingu (I 149) as well as by the fact that he becomes the possessor of the tablet of destinies (I 157) it is clear that it is he who must bear the title of lugal. But the author(s) of Ee cannot name Kingu lugal, because Kingu is a negative character, an opponent of Marduk, who in turn must bear this title. From the standpoint of Ea’s “party,” Tiamat’s assembly is an illegal, mutinous political action. Thus, from Marduk’s point of view the transmission of supremacy looks like usurpation: ana lā simātīšu taškunīš(u) ana para´ enūti ‘you have appointed him for the ritual of supremacy not appropriate to him’ (IV 82). It must be mentioned that during the transmission of the ‘kingship of all universe’ to Marduk (šarrūtu kiššat kal gimrēti—IV 14) he does not obtain the tablet of destinies. But it is Marduk who is considered as a legitimate king. Thus, the fact that Marduk is enthroned at the assembly of great gods (assembly III) is the cause of the legitimacy of his power. § 5. The role of the assembly in the expansion of king’s authorities Ee gives an interesting model, which probably depicts the evolution of the pu¶ru and lugal institutions at the early stages of the development of the state in ancient Mesopotamia. After the conflict between Apsu and the gods of Ea’s “party” the gods’ community is divided into two parts (cf. § 3 A). 1. The usurper and his camp—the “party” of Tiamat. After the assembly of the mutinous gods, Kingu becomes a formal leader of this “party.” But all the real power remains in Tiamat’s hands. This can be proved by the fact that Marduk fights Tiamat, but not the usurper. At the beginning, this camp or “party” includes an absolute majority of the

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gods, as Ea, when he gives the report about Tiamat’s assembly, says: is¶urūšimma ilānu gimiršun(u); adi ša attunu tabnâ idāša alkū; imma´rūnimma iduš(ša) Tiāmat tebûni ‘All gods turned to her; with all that you had created, they defected on her side; they crowd—on the side of Tiamat they raised’ (II 13–15). 2. The opponents to Tiamat’s camp. It is named Ea’s “party” for two reasons: firstly, the murder of Apsu by Ea was a fatal blow that led to the division of the divine society; secondly, Ea is the father of Marduk—the main protagonist of the poem, who joins the fight after his father decided to propose his son as a candidate for defeating Tiamat: (Ea says): attāma mārī munappišu libbīšu; muttiš Anšar qitrubiš ¢e¶ēma ‘You, my son, who relax my heart; approach Anshar closely’ (II 132–133). The second assembly (II 121–162) presents the public assembly of gods which have gathered to resolve a problem—how to obviate the threat for the community’s existence. According to Ea’s will, his son, the young god Marduk, proposes his service to kill Tiamat to the assembly of gods. He also formulates his conditions: transferring to him an extraordinary authority. According to the subsequent development of the plot, it is clear that gods of the public assembly accepted the terms. However, they have no right to provide Marduk with lugal’s authority. Therefore Anshar23, the head of the public assembly, sends his messenger to the first gods—Lahmu and Lahamu, who are the progenitors of all gods. The form, the structure and the functions of the assembly as a political institution come into sight during the third assembly. The whole assembly has the following structure. 1. Common assembly comprises all gods. As it was shown in the case of the second assembly, this body can accept or reject the conditions. 2. The inner part of the assembly is a council of fifty great gods. This part of the assembly can be considered as a kind of “upper chamber” of the common assembly. This organ is a part of the common assembly, as it is connected with the public assembly, as public assembly is a place where a pretender proclaims the program of his actions. Thus, two parts of the assembly are interconnected. But after the fulfillment of the public assembly’s functions at the second assembly, a great bulk of the gods plays no role at the third meeting. On the contrary, the great gods sit down at the banquet and, as a result of their discussion, elaborate the conditions of the 23 Anshar is titled ‘lord’ (be-lum—II 155). In IV 83 Marduk states that Anshar is a ‘king of gods’ (LUGAL DINGIR.DINGIR). This fact emphasizes, once again, the special role of Anshar and the insignificance of Anu (let alone Enlil) in Ee.

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transmission of king’s power to Marduk.24 The elders grant Marduk the right to take the place upon the ‘sacred dais of power’ (parak rubûti—IV 1), which they have created. This act symbolizes granting of the king’s extraordinary authorities. Marduk’s main achievements are: Marduk is proclaimed to be the most important among the great gods, thus he becomes the “subordinate father” of the great gods (cf. VII 97). Marduk acquires the supreme power in the form of kingship over the whole universe. But the great gods also make some requests to Marduk. As a result, the king as a political authority must act within the limits established by the assembly of the great gods. He must carry out his military function and, what is the most important, he cannot apply his extraordinary power to the assembly. This fact betrays the contractual nature of lugal’s power. After fixing the rights and obligations and after checking the new king, gods transfer to Marduk the signs of the king’s dignity and proclaim him a king. Thus the model of lugal’s accession to power consists of the following elements. First, the pretender tries to achieve the approval of his candidacy at the public assembly. Subsequently, an approval from the assembly of the great gods is necessary, which is given after a scrupulous determination of rights, duties and limits of lugal’s authorities. Only after that the extraordinary authorities are passed to the pretender. Let us mention, finally, that the transmission of power in Ee occurs under the pressure of the external circumstances. The third assembly shows the subordinate power of the king at an early stage of the existence of this political institution. Conversely, the fourth, public assembly could well be labeled “the triumph of Marduk”— here Marduk strengthens his position and acquires new authorities. Gods treat Marduk with respect because of his tremendous achievements. Marduk puts on the crown of kingship and takes other signs of the supreme power which identify his authority as a military function (the “divine weapon” he takes in his right hand) and the function of supplying the means for the community’s wellbeing.

24 “The indications which we have, point to a form of government in which the normal run of public affairs was handled by a council of elders but ultimate sovereignty resided in a general assembly comprising all members—or, perhaps better, all adult free men—of the community. This assembly settled conflicts arising in the community, decided on such major issues as war and peace, and could, if need arose, especially in a situation of war, grant supreme authority, kingship, to one of its members for a limited period” (Jacobsen 1943:169).

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Finally, Lahmu and Lahamu announce the assembly that, while earlier Marduk was only their favorite “son”, from now on he is the king under the throne name LUGAL-DIMMER-AN-KI-A25: pānâma Marduk māru narāmni; inanna šarrākun(u), qibīssu qālā ‘earlier Marduk was our beloved son, now he is your king—be mindful of his speech!’ (V 109–110). The assembly of the elders becomes a consultative institution under the king rather than a body which can limit the king’s power—Marduk convokes the fifth assembly by himself and utters commands, which gods have to carry out (VI 18–19). At this assembly Marduk already acts quite independently: he quickly decides the fate of the instigator of the revolt— Kingu, further he divides gods into two classes, and then orders Anu to keep his instructions. He prescribes the functions of the gods and grants an amnesty for the mutinous gods. Now assembly only dares to ask the king to give his consent to build Babylon, which they afterwards do by their own means. Though the sixth assembly is designated as public, ordinary gods do not act here in any way, while the great gods elect the judicial body of seven gods of destinies. Anu lays ‘the throne of kingship’ (kussi šarrūti)— but not parak rubûti ‘the sacred dais of rule’ as previously—in the assembly, which symbolizes the end of political power of the assembly of the elders. There is not much to say about the seventh assembly where fifty great gods hand over the divine names to Marduk, thereby concentrating an absolute power in his hands. § 6. Conclusion 1. According to Th. Jacobsen: “An or Enlil usually broached the matters to be considered; and we may assume—our evidence does not allow us to decide the point—that the discussion which followed would be largely in the hands of the so-called ilū rabiūtum, the ‘great gods’ or, perhaps better, ‘the senior gods,’ whose number is said to have been fifty. The two groups which stand out from the ordinary members of the pu¶rum, the ilū rabiūtum and the ilū šīmāti or mušimmu šīmāti, are mentioned already in the myth of Enlil and Ninlil (Barton, MBI No. 4 ii 13–14; Chiera, SEM

25

That Marduk acquires his new power exactly during the assembly can be deduced from VI 139, where the great gods proclaim: LUGAL-DIMMER-AN-KIA šumšu ša nimbû pu¶urni ‘Lugal-dimer-an-kia is his name, which we have named at our assembly.’

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77 ii 5–6; Pinches in JRAS 1919, pp. 190f. rev. 1–2) as dingir-gal-galninnu-ne-ne dingir-nam-tar-ra-imin-na-ne-ne, ‘all the fifty senior gods and the seven gods who determine fates …’ Yet it is possible that the seven gods who determine the destinies formed merely a part of ‘the senior gods’ ” (Jacobsen 1943:165, fn. 50). The situation in Ee generally corresponds to this pattern, except for the insignificant roles of Anu and Enlil. In Ee, the word pu¶ru designates the institution of the communal rule which comprises all gods. Among these, ‘fifty great gods’ are distinguished. The functions of the assembly include: discussion of affairs and pronouncement of decisions, delegating authority and enthronization of a king. 2. Form and functions of the assembly can be deduced from the study of the relations between the assembly and the emergent royal power. Now the stages of the “conversion to despotism” can be determined. a) During the second and the third assemblies Marduk counts upon the majority of the public assembly, which forces the great gods to hand over an extraordinary authority to Marduk. This transmission is portrayed as a treaty between the assembly and the pretender, which fixes lugal’s rights and duties. b) At the forth assembly, Marduk is on the top of success as he is the victor over Tiamat and a creator of the universe. This leads him to the acquisition of the title of the eternal king. Here we observe the genesis of the hereditary royal power. Fifty great gods proclaim Marduk’s throne name and his right to possess kingship. c) In the fifth and the sixth assemblies Marduk acquires the right to convoke the assembly. The king acts independently at the assembly, while the gods act according to the king’s instructions. d) In the seventh assembly the great gods hand over their authorities and functions to Marduk.

Thus in Mesopotamia the origin of the king’s authority is closely connected with the assembly. Ee describes twice how the pretender is approved—primarily as an extraordinary leader of the community and afterwards as an eternal king. 3. The election of the military leader (lugal) was originally conditioned by an external threat, but conversion to despotism occurs later— after the end of the creation of the universe, when lugal surpassed the political influence of the assembly. 4. There are inconsistencies and contradictions in Ee both in mythology and spelling. It probably means that the extant text of Ee elaborates on more ancient versions (written or oral) with quite a different ideological background.

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Diagram 1. Statistical evidence for the use of the terms designating the assembly and the king in Ee

Diagram 2. The use of the term abu ‘father’ in Ee. Grey arrows designate kinship by birth, black arrows—“subordinate kinship”. About Enlil cf. VII 136

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References Diakonoff 1966

Diakonoff 1967 Diakonoff 1990 Horowitz 1998 Jacobsen 1943 Jacobsen 1976 Kaneva 1964

King 1902

Lambert–Millard 1969

Talon 2005

Diakonoff, I. M. Social Relations in Sumerian and Babylonian Folklore. VDI 1:9–27 (Obščestvennye otnošeniya v šumerskom i vavilonskom fol’klore). Diakonoff, I. M. Languages of the Ancient Near East. Moscow (Jazyki Drevnej Perednej Azii). Diakonoff. I. M. Archaic Myths of the East and the West. Moscow (Arhaičeskie mify Vostoka i Zapada). Horowitz, W. Mesopotamian Cosmic Geography (MC 8). Winona Lake. Jacobsen, Th. Primitive Democracy in Ancient Mesopotamia. JNES 2:159–172. Jacobsen, Th. The Treasures of Darkness. History of Mesopotamian Religion. New Heaven–London. Kaneva, I. T. The Sumerian Heroic Epic as Historical Source. VDI 3:245–267 (Šumerskij geroičeskij epos kak istoričeskij istočnik). King, W. L. The Seven Tablets of Creation, or the Babylonian and Assyrian Legends concerning the Creation of the World and of Mankind. Vols. I–II. London. Lambert, W. G.; Millard, A. R. Atra-hasīs. The Babylonian Story of the Flood. With The Sumerian Flood Story by M. Civil. Oxford, 1969. Talon, Ph. The Standard Babylonian Creation Myth Enūma Eliš (SAACT IV). Helsinki.

On the Early History of melammu* Vladimir V. Emelianov St. Petersburg State University

As is well known, melammu, usually translated ‘fearsome radiance, aura,’ is one of the most fundamental concepts of Mesopotamian religion.1 This notwithstanding, only one monographic study has been devoted to it. About forty years ago (1968), E. Cassin published a book entitled La splendeur divine. Introduction à l’étude de la mentalité mésopotamienne, where she thoroughly studied the word, mainly on the basis of Akkadian sources, and was able to clarify a number of problems. She considered all aspects of the use of the word melammu as well as its synonyms,2 convincingly criticized A. Leo Oppenheim’s hypothesis that melammu was a mask put on and removed by the mašmaššu-priest (Oppenheim 1943:31–34),3 and formulated the basic attributes of divine light (or charisma) in application to all religions of the ancient world. From her work it becomes clear that the concept of charisma is indissolubly connected with the ideas of whiteness, light, cleanliness, force, sexual appeal and sexual power, youthfulness, pleasure, beauty, will, independence, and political activity. From all these, the most fundamental one is the association of charisma with its bearer’s fertility. In addition to E. Cassin’s book, we can also mention an important lexicographic article by W. H. Ph. Römer, which collects all the occurrences of the word me-lam2 in Sumerian texts. This article comes with a catalogue of nouns and verbs that helps locate the most frequent * I’m very thankful to my colleagues Profs. Drs. Simo Parpola, Manfred Krebernik, Gebhard Selz for their critical listening of my paper. I also want to express my gratitude to Mr. Kamran Vincent Zand for the latest additions to its textual base. 1 melammu (melimmu, milammu, malemmu) 1. radiance, supernatural awe-inspiring sheen (inherent in things divine and royal), 2. glow of good health (CAD M2 9). 2 NI2 = pulu¶tu, NI2.GAL = namrirrû, NI2.ÚUŠ = rašubbatu, SU.ZI = šalummatu (Cassin 1968:3–8). The connection between me-lam2 and ni2 (‘identity,’ ‘personality,’ then ‘awe’) requires a separate article (see now Black–Green 2004:130–131). Also cf. ne-la2-am-mu, ni2-lam2-ma (MNS 1, 95; Römer 1975:146, 156). 3 His later translation and understanding was ‘awe-inspiring radiance’ (or tremendum) (Oppenheim 1990:78).

On the Early History of melammu* Vladimir V. Emelianov St. Petersburg State University

As is well known, melammu, usually translated ‘fearsome radiance, aura,’ is one of the most fundamental concepts of Mesopotamian religion.1 This notwithstanding, only one monographic study has been devoted to it. About forty years ago (1968), E. Cassin published a book entitled La splendeur divine. Introduction à l’étude de la mentalité mésopotamienne, where she thoroughly studied the word, mainly on the basis of Akkadian sources, and was able to clarify a number of problems. She considered all aspects of the use of the word melammu as well as its synonyms,2 convincingly criticized A. Leo Oppenheim’s hypothesis that melammu was a mask put on and removed by the mašmaššu-priest (Oppenheim 1943:31–34),3 and formulated the basic attributes of divine light (or charisma) in application to all religions of the ancient world. From her work it becomes clear that the concept of charisma is indissolubly connected with the ideas of whiteness, light, cleanliness, force, sexual appeal and sexual power, youthfulness, pleasure, beauty, will, independence, and political activity. From all these, the most fundamental one is the association of charisma with its bearer’s fertility. In addition to E. Cassin’s book, we can also mention an important lexicographic article by W. H. Ph. Römer, which collects all the occurrences of the word me-lam2 in Sumerian texts. This article comes with a catalogue of nouns and verbs that helps locate the most frequent * I’m very thankful to my colleagues Profs. Drs. Simo Parpola, Manfred Krebernik, Gebhard Selz for their critical listening of my paper. I also want to express my gratitude to Mr. Kamran Vincent Zand for the latest additions to its textual base. 1 melammu (melimmu, milammu, malemmu) 1. radiance, supernatural awe-inspiring sheen (inherent in things divine and royal), 2. glow of good health (CAD M2 9). 2 NI2 = pulu¶tu, NI2.GAL = namrirrû, NI2.ÚUŠ = rašubbatu, SU.ZI = šalummatu (Cassin 1968:3–8). The connection between me-lam2 and ni2 (‘identity,’ ‘personality,’ then ‘awe’) requires a separate article (see now Black–Green 2004:130–131). Also cf. ne-la2-am-mu, ni2-lam2-ma (MNS 1, 95; Römer 1975:146, 156). 3 His later translation and understanding was ‘awe-inspiring radiance’ (or tremendum) (Oppenheim 1990:78).

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contexts and compounds in which the word me-lam2 occurs (Römer 1975:146–157). It should be pointed out, however, that two important questions have not been considered at all in research so far, viz. (1) the etymology of Sumerian me-lam2, and (2) the original meaning of me-lam2 based on early Sumerian contexts. In what follows, I shall try to clarify these problems, however, without suggesting any final answers. The etymology of me-lam2 Me-lam2 is a compound noun consisting of two parts: me and lam2.4 For the basic meaning of me (‘vital force,’ ‘will to life,’ ‘desire,’ ‘opportunity’) see Emelianov 2005:24–26. The second component of the word, lam2, is written with the sign NE, which basically means ‘fire, flame.’5 Other words written with the same sign include izi ‘fire,’ kum2 ‘hot,’ and the verb bil2, ‘to set fire,’ all associated with the image of fire. It is hence logical to assume that the word lam2 was likewise associated with fire and/or the process of burning. However, no cuneiform syllabary provides any Akkadian equivalent of lam2, nor is there any evidence of a noun or verb lam2 in monolingual Sumerian texts.6 Until now, there have been no serious attempts to establish the meaning of this Sumerian word. All suggested translations of me-lam2 are conventional. Thus E. Cassin, who renders it with the abstract word ‘splendeur,’ explains her translation by referring to the importance of the sign NE in the compound, and considers lam2 as a property or function of flame (or what burns) (Cassin 1968:6). Å. Sjöberg believes that lam2 means ‘hot,’ comparing it with the sign NE read kum2, and translates ‘awe-inspiring radiance’ (TCS 3, 59). W. H. Ph. Römer understands melam2 without any explanation as ‘glühende Me’s’ (Römer 1975:146). M. Krebernik repeats this translation, with a question mark after ‘glühende,’ in his RlA entry on “Melammu” (Krebernik 1990:35). We see that none of the above-mentioned scholars tried to understand this complicated question seriously at all. 4 me.lamlam2 = me-lam-mu (MSL 12, 107:101), also melemmu (AHw. 643). LAM2 can also be read as li9-m (Bauer 1987), lem4 (ETCSL), limx (Flückiger-Hawker 1999:337). 5 A. Deimel understood the pictographic shape of NE as “brennende Fackel” (ŠL II 172). 6 “Le sens exact de lim est obscure mais il a peut-être un rapport avec la lumière” ( Jaques 2006:201).

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A unique compound that has lam2 as its last component is the name of a ritual attire, tug2nig2-lam2, translated into Akkadian as lama¶uššu, lubuštu, or raqqatu (AHw. 532, 561, 958; CDA 299). This garment is often mentioned in economic texts, which list it among offerings to gods,7 and also in six literary texts (twice in broken context). From the latter we know that Dumuzi put it on before visiting Inanna, and that kings could also wear it (Dumuzi-Inanna B 17). In particular, in Shulgi A, the king of Ur puts on a small tug2nig2-lam2 and says that it covers his hips, i. e., it is a loincloth.8 Nothing more is known about this clothing from Sumerian texts. As for its Akkadian equivalents, lama¶uššu obviously is of Sumerian origin, its first part corresponding to lam2, and the second to ¶uš ‘furious; red.’9 The second equivalent, lubuštu, simply means ‘attire, garment.’ The word raqqatu, written logographically TUG2.SAL.LA, literally means ‘thin attire.’ Based on the Akkadian equivalents, the element lam2 in tug2 nig2-lam2 could logically mean ‘covering.’10 If so, the noun me-lam2 can be understood as ‘covered with me.’ The fact that a word for covering is written with a sign denoting burning and fire reflects the widespread metaphor of fire and light as the attires of gods11 attested in many Mesopotamian texts (Cassin 1968:20–21). Moreover, in Römer’s catalogue, me-lam2 occurs in the overwhelming majority of contexts in combination with the verb dul, ‘to cover’ (24 cases in all periods; Römer 1975:147–149). Hence it seems plausible to consider “covering” the basic meaning of lam2. But where, in that case, does the connotation of melam2 with light come from? The absence of an independent Sumerian word lam2 from cuneiform dictionaries is puzzling. It could be explained by assuming that the word is a borrowing from another language. In this context it is worth noting 7

For example, in combinations tug2nig2-lam2 ensi2 ‘attire of a governor’ (RTC 276rev. i 11; MVN 6, 327obv.:1), tug2nig2-lam2 lugal ‘king’s attire’ (MVN 22, 255obv.:1). From these scanty data we can conclude that lama¶uššu was intended for governors and kings. 8 tug2 nig2-lam2-ban3-da ib2-ga2 ba-du3, ‘covered my hips with the lama¶uššu-garment’ (Shulgi A 43; Klein 1981:193). 9 One meets in Babylonian incantations phrases like na¶laptu santu ša pulu¶ti ‘red attire of awe,’ ´ubātu sāmu ´ubāt namrirri ‘red attire, attire of shining’ (Cassin 1968:103–104). 10 lamx(BIR)-¶u-šu-u = lu-ba-šu sa-a-mu ‘red garment’ (Malku VI 73; CAD L 59). 11 (Ištar) Girru litbušat melamme našāta ‘(Ishtar), covered with flame, wearing light’ (Streck Asb., p. 78, IX 80); (Nergal) Girru labiš melamme ‘(Nergal) is a flame covered with light’ (CAD M2 9–12).

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that there exists a word lāmu (also la’mu, la¶mu) in Akkadian, meaning ‘burning brands, coals, ashes.’12 Its Sumerian equivalent in most syllabaries is just the sign NE (Proto-Izi I 3; Antagal H 27; MSL 9, 118). If NE was in this case read as lam2, the equation lam2 = lāmu would support the suggested translation of the compound me-lam2 as ‘burning me(s).’ However, there is a rather essential argument against this hypothesis: in some syllabaries, the sign NE is followed by the signs da-al or dal (RI), making it necessary to read the combination of signs as de3-da-al (Izi I 172; CAD L 69).13 Thus, based on an analysis of the sign NE and the majority of the contexts in which it occurs, Sumerian me-lam2 can be understood as a bright garment of flame and light, covering the person dressed in it or endowed with it. Early Sumerian contexts Having defined melammu as originally a garment of flame and light, let us now consider the question of who were the primary bearers of these garments. To this end it is necessary to turn to the early Sumerian contexts of me-lam2 as well as the Uruk epical songs, which preserve many old religious structures. Me-lam2 is mentioned for the first time in Old Sumerian god lists from Fara, where it is preceded by the determinative di×ir, ‘god’ (SF 1 ix 13; SF 5 Vs. iii 5, Rs. ii 2; Krebernik 1990:35). We also know of sacrifices given to the god dME.LAM2 in Fara (TSŠ 629 ii 4). Thus, in the 26th–25th centuries B. C. dme-lam2 was worshiped as a divine being receiving offerings as nourishment. This personification of divine light is completely absent from later Sumerian texts but resurfaces in Neo-Assyrian lists of gods: dme-lam2 = dEN.LÍL be-lum ep-še-ti qa-[…], BA 5, 655:13; dlugal-me-lam2-ma = ŠU (= Nergal), An = Anum VI 85 (Litke 1998:206). The first literary text to mention me-lam214 is a badly preserved hymn to Shamash from Ebla, duplicated in Abu-Salabikh (ARET V, 6 = OIP 99, 12 ‘Embers’ (CAD L 69), ‘glowing ashes’ (CDA 177). Cf. Hebr./Arab. laham ‘to burn, to flame,’ Arab. lama‘a ‘to shine bright, to flame (about stars or lightning) (Steinberg 1878:230; Lane 3013).’ The same may be with su-lim < su ‘body’ + la’mu/lama‘a ‘the flame of somebody’s body,’ i-lim < *ni2-lim ‘identity’ + la’mu (see also Jaques 2006:201). ¶ 13 ne-e NE, de-eNE, [de3.da-]alRI = la-’-[mu] (Izi I 172); NEla-a -mu (Proto-Izi I 3); NE = la-’-mu (text -bu) (Antagal H 27, see MSL 9, 118; CAD L 69). 14 We also know broken fragment of Fara text (probably a hymn) where one can read e2 me-lam2 u5 ‘The temple riding melammu’ (NTSŠ 168+269+300+ 328+978+979+980, VII, 16; see also IX, 25: e2-ša3 me-lam2 u2 (instead of u5) ‘the inner temple riding melammu’) (courtesy of Mr. Kamran Vincent Zand).

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326): PA.E3 dME.LAM15 = ti-bi2-u316 i-la-me ‘Divine splendor lightens the ERIN2+X of Šamaš,’ ‘(The city of) AL.NIMki illuminates (?) the lands, divine splendor flashes up’ (OIP 99, 326:3.7, 4.4 = ARET V, 6:4.6, 6.1); ’a3šum me-i-li-me DUMU.NITA2 dEN.ZU ‘The fiery splendor of the son of Suen’ (ARET V, 6:8.5); me-i-la-me dUTU gu2-ra-dim2 (ARET V, 6:10.4) ‘the divine splendor of the hero, Šamaš’ (BFE 155; Krebernik 1992:83–85, 128). Here the radiance of the city and sun is obviously meant.17 Two attestations of me-lam2 in the Old Sumerian period go a little further: An-ta-sur-ra e2 me-lam2-bi kur-kur-ra a-dul5 ‘Antasurra, the temple whose light covers all the countries’ (Ent. 8, 6:1–2; Ent. 23:39–40); e2giš gigir-ra e2 me-lam2-bi kur-kur-ra dul5 (Ukg. 10, 2:3–4) ‘the House of Chariot, the temple whose light covers all the countries’ (Behrens–Steible 1983:85). We see that melammu can be understood here as the religiouspolitical force of the temple, subordinating all neighboring territories. The Old Akkadian royal inscriptions do not contain any attestations of me-lam2 or its Akkadian equivalent, melammu.18 We now move on to consider the contexts of the word in the Cylinders of Gudea: 232

A9.11 e2-×u10 e2-ninnu an-ne2 ki ×ar-ra A9.12 me-bi me gal-gal me-me-a dirig-ga 234 A9.13 e2 lugal-bi igi sud il2-il2 235 A9.14 anzud2mušen-gin7 šeg12 gi4-a-bi-še3 236 A9.15 an im-ši-dub2-dub2 237 A9.16 me-lam2 ¶uš-bi an-ne2 im-us2 238 A9.17 e2-×a2 ni2-gal-bi kur-kur-ra mu-ri 239 A9.18 mu-bi-e an-zag-ta kur-kur-re gu2 im-ma-si-si ‘As if at the roaring of the Anzud bird, the heavens tremble at my house, the E-ninnu founded by An, the powers of which are the 233

15 “Note the determinative and LAM instead of the usual LAM2 (NE) in the logographic spelling of the TAS text The syllabic spelling me-i, which can represent only a closed (/me’/) or two open syllables (/me’i/), but not /me/ or /mē/, is important for the etymology of the word. Since it always ends in -me, it seems doubtful that the final vowel indicates a Semitic case ending. Note, that me-i-la/li-me represents a status constructus in ARET V, 6:8.5 and 10.4. Perhaps, (me-)i-la/li-me is a syllabically spelt sumerogram for a plural noun” (Krebernik 1992:128). 16 “I interpret the Semitic verb as tippi’û, 3rd person pl. of wuppû” (Steinkeller 1992:266, fn. 69). 17 d Utu me-lam2-an-na kur-kur-ra bi2-dul: Šamaš melamme šamê mātāti taktum ‘Ah Shamash! You covered all the countries with your heavenly light!’ (OECT 6, 52:9f.; CAD M2 9). 18 Nevertheless, in later omen texts Sargon is described as the possessor of heavenly light: šalummassu eli mātāti itbuk ‘He poured his light on all the countries’ (Cassin 1968:66). However, melammu is not mentioned here.

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Religion and Ideology greatest, surpassing all other powers, at the house whose owner looks out over a great distance. Its fierce halo reaches up to heaven, the great fearsomeness of my house settles upon all the lands. In response to its fame all lands will gather from as far as heaven’s borders…’ 471

A17.18 e2 me-lam2-bi an-ne2 us2-sa A17.19 me-bi an ki-da gu2 la2-a ‘Towards the house whose halo reaches to heaven, whose powers embrace heaven and earth…, (Gudea went from the south and admired it northwards).’ 472

703

A26.1 šu-ga-lam ka2 me-lam2-ba A26.2 ušum ×išimmar-bi im-ma-ab-dab5-be2 ‘In Shu-galam, its awesome gate, he had the Dragon and the Date palm take their stand.’ 704

B16.3 _e2`-e me gal-la _sa×` mi-ni-ib2-il2 B16.4 ni2 me-lam2-ma šu mi-ni-ib2-du7 ‘The temple towered upwards in full grandeur, unparallelled in fearsomeness and radiance.’ B24.9 _e2` kur gal-gin7 an-ne2 us2-sa B24.10 ni2 me-lam2-bi kalam-ma ru-a 1357 B24.11 an-ne2 den-lil2-e nam lagaški tar-ra ‘The house reaches up to heaven like a huge mountain and its fearsomeness and awesome radiance have settled upon the land. An and Enlil have determined the fate of Lagash.’ 1356

All the occurrences of melammu here are associated with the radiance of the temple Eninnu. It is not a passive radiance, but an aggressive one reaching the heavens and subordinating the neighboring cities to the will of this mighty temple. It is by means of this radiance that the sacred function of the temple as an intermediary between Heaven and Earth is brought to realization. Two poems commemorating the feats of the god Ninurta—Lugale and Angim—can also be dated to the reign of Gudea. In both of them, Ninurta is repeatedly named as the possessor of me-lam2 (Lugale 1, 194, 274, 293, 442; Angim 70, 82, 124, 147), but it is also emphasized that he received his splendor as a gift from the god of heaven, An: ni2 me-lam2ma an-na an-ša3-ta sa×-×a2-eš mu-un-rig7-ga = pu-lu¶-ti me-lam-me dA-nuum ina qe-reb šamêe a-na ši-rik-ti iš-ruk-šu2 ‘An from the middle of the Heaven handed the horror of splendor over to him as a gift’ (Angim 70).

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Thus, we learn that melammu was not a property inherent to all gods, but had to be earned as a gift from the god of Heaven.19 Let us now consider the evidence from the Uruk epical songs. a) Enmerkar and Ensuhkešdanna 11. unugki-ga ka-tar-ra-bi kur-ra ba-te×3 12. me-lam2-bi kug-me-a zid-da-am3 13. arattaki-a tug2-gin7 ba-e-dul gada-gin7 ba-e-bur2 ‘Unug, the glory of which reaches the highland and its radiance, genuine refined silver, covers Aratta like a garment, is spread over it like linen.’ b) Lugalbanda and Hurrum 176. dinana dumu dsuen-na-ke4 177. gud-gin7 kalam-ma sa× mu-na-il2 178. me-lam2-ma-ni kug dšara2-gin7 179. muš3-a-ni ¶ur-ru-um kur-ra-kam ud mu-un-na-×a2-×a2 ‘Inana (i. e., the evening star), the daughter of Suen, arose before him like a bull in the Land. Her brilliance, like that of holy Shara, her stellar brightness illuminated for him the mountain cave.’20 208. dsuen dumu ki a×2-×a2 den-lil2-la2 209. di×ir21 si-un3-na me-te-aš bi2-ib-×al2 210. me-lam2-ma-ni [me]-_lam2?` na4 _za-gin3`-gin7 211. muš3-a-ni ¶ur-ru-um kur-ra-ka ud mu-na-×a2-×a2 ‘Suen, the beloved son of Enlil, the god reached the zenith splendidly. His brilliance, like that of lapis lazuli, his stellar radiance illuminated for him the mountain cave.’ 232. _šul` dutu si muš3 kug-ga-na an-ta mu-ta-la2 232B. [me-lam2-a-ni ¶ur-ru-um] _kur`-ra-ka ud _mu`-[na-×a2-×a2] 233. kug dlugal-ban3-da ¶ur-ru-um kur-ra-_ka` mu-na-šum2 234. [d]_udug` sag9-ga-ni an-ta im-ta-la2 235. dlama sag9-ga-ni e×er-a-na ba-e-×en ‘The youth Utu extended his holy, shining rays down from heaven,22 he bestowed them on holy Lugalbanda in the mountain cave. His good protective god hovered ahead of him, his good protective goddess walked behind him.’ 19

In Lugale 43, the demon Asag is also provided with me-lam2. But this is explained by the fact that Asag was the child of An (Lugale 26), therefore he was “entitled” to melammu by birth. 20 Comparison with Shara is not clear. Shara is the god of Umma, bearing a title ur-sa×-an-na ‘hero of An’ (Black–Green 2004:173). So, he is connected with celestial sphere and probably has the right to possess melammu-shining. 21 1 ms. has instead: en. 22 1 ms. adds: his brilliance illuminated for him the mountain cave.

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In these passages, the bearers of melammu include only heavenly bodies (Utu, Nanna,23 Inanna) and the city of Uruk ruled by them. In Enmerkar and Ensuhkešdanna, the melammu of Uruk covers the hostile Aratta. In the Lugalbanda Epic, the hero receives the radiance of the Sungod as a gift during his vigil in a cave. After that he is called ‘holy’ and is protected by good angelic spirits. It is a situation analogous to Mesopotamian consecration incantations, where after the consecration of an object, the good šēdu and lamassu spirits take over the place of the malicious demons at the object’s body.24 Hence it is possible to assume that in this case a similar process took place, and Lugalbanda became a sacred person through the descent of solar beams upon him (about all features of Lugalbanda’s sanctity see Vanstiphout 2002:283–284). A different picture is encountered in the epic song about Gilgameš and Agga. Here the word me-lam2 occurs in two contexts: 43. ne-eš2 ×iššu-kar2 a2 me3 sa ¶e2-em-mi-gi4 44. ×ištukul me3 a2-zu-še3 ¶e2-em-mi-gi4 45. ni2 gal me-lam2-ma ¶e2-em-dim2-dim2-e 46. e-ne du-a-ni-ta ni2 gal-×u10 ¶e2-eb-šu2 ‘On this account let the weaponry and arms of battle be made ready. Let the battle mace return to your side. May they create a great terror and radiance. When he comes, my great fearsomeness will overwhelm him.’ 84. e×er zabar-dab5 unugki-ga-ke4 dgilgameš2 bad3-še3 im-me-ed3-de3 85. ab-ba di4-di4-la2 kul-aba4ki-a-ke4 me-lam2 bi2-ib-šu2-šu2 ‘Gilgameš climbed up on the rampart after the officer of Unug. His radiance overwhelmed Kulaba’s young and old.’

Here, me-lam2 refers to the radiance emitted by the weapons by means of which Gilgameš overwhelms Agga, as well as to the radiance of Gilgameš himself, overwhelming old and small inhabitants of Uruk. In the first case, Gilgameš himself displays an eagerness to fight, in the second one he infects the citizens of his city with military enthusiasm. The context in the poem “Gilgameš and Huwawa” is again different. Here seven radiances are attributed to Huwawa, and all attempts of Gilgameš to seize them result in failure: in the end, Enlil distributes them to 23

Cf. Assyrian Sin bēl melamme ‘Sin is the lord of shining’ (KAR 69:22). Udug-¶ul a-la2-¶ul bar-še3 he2-em-ta-gub / dAlad sig5-ga dLama sig5-ga ¶e2en-da-su8-su8-ge-eš ‘May the evil demon and the evil ghost step aside! May the good šēdu and the good lamassu stand by him!’ (VAT 8348:13–14; Emelianov 1998:54). 24

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various localities (field, river, reed-thicket, lions, mountains, forests, palace, and the god Nungal). However, it should be noted that the radiances of Huwawa are referred to by two different terms (ni2-te, me-lam2) in the two versions of the epic, and they are strictly seven in number. Therefore it is best to regard this context as unique and study it separately. The idea that a ruler can possess melammu thus occurs for the first time in the Lugalbanda Epic and in Gilgameš and Agga. In historical documents, it is first attested in a royal hymn of Ur-Nammu, where we are told: dUr-dNamma dSu’en ša3-ge ba-ni-in-pa3 / lugal ¶i-li gur3-ru melam2 kalam-ma dul-la ‘Suen has selected Ur-Nammu in his heart, he is a charm-bearing king, whose radiance covers the country’ (Urn. EF 24–25; Flückiger-Hawker 1999:272). Here the association with lunar light and the sexual appeal of the king of Ur is interesting. His name is written with the divine determinative, although it is known that Ur-Nammu was not deified in his lifetime. The endowment of the king of Ur and his dynasty with melammu is explained by the special relationship of Ur-Nammu with Gilgameš, combined with the doctrine of the heavenly origin of kingship. In a hymn of Ur-Nammu we are explicitly told: šeš dBilgames gu-la-me-en / [dumu d]u2-da dNin-sumun2-ka-me-en numun nam-en-na-me-en / [an-t]a namlugal ma-ra-e11! ‘I am a brother of the great Gilgameš! I am a true son of Ninsumun! I am the seed of lordship! Kingship has descended to me from Heaven’ (Urnamma C 114). Heavenly kingship, granted by Enlil and Suen, secured for Ur-Nammu the possession of melammu. But how was heavenly kingship connected with Gilgameš, who did not possess it while a vassal of Agga, though he did for some reason possess divine radiance? And why do the two poems about Gilgameš correspond so badly to each other—in one of them Gilgameš is unable to obtain beams of light, in the other they belong to him immanently? It seems to me that we are here faced with the phenomenon of “inverse connection.” Ideologists of the time of Ur-Nammu could attribute the possession of melammu to Gilgameš based on his alleged ‘brotherhood’ with the Ur III dynasty. From this perspective, it is possible that the lines about the radiance of Gilgameš were inserted into the text of Gilgameš and Agga at the Ur III period, when this composition was presumably written down, some eight or nine centuries after the events purportedly described in it. Since that time the mention of the royal melammu becomes one of the most widespread topoi of the royal hymns. In the post-Sumerian period the king’s melammu gradually supersedes the melammu of a temple and the

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melammu of a city in the religious texts, and essentially suppresses the melammu of heavenly bodies.25 Thereafter this topos passes from hymns to royal inscriptions and the royal annals of the Neo-Assyrian and NeoBabylonian periods. But the study of this evidence is beyond the scope of the present paper. To sum up, in the early Sumerian texts me-lam2 appears as the fiery attire of heavenly bodies and gods. This attire could be bestowed by Heaven upon cities and temples, and also upon people invested with sanctity. During the Ur III period, me-lam2 became an attribute of kings related to a deified hero, and simultaneously an attribute of this hero.26 Me-lam2 embodies the function of expansion and helps establish control over space or authority over the enemy. This light becomes appreciable at the moments of intensity, the conflict between its bearer and world around. The seven melammus of Huwawa require a separate study and are left out of consideration here. References Bauer 1987 Behrens–Steible 1983 Black–Green 2004 Cassin 1968 Emelianov 1998

25

Bauer, J. Altorientalische Notizen 42. Würzburg. Behrens, H.; Steible, H. Glossar zu den altsumerischen Bauund Weihinschriften (FAOS 6). Wiesbaden. Black, J.; Green, A. Gods, Demons and Symbols of Ancient Mesopotamia. London. Cassin, E. La splendeur divine. Introduction à l’étude de la mentalité mésopotamienne. Paris. Emelianov, V. V. Sumerian Consecration Incantations and the Concept of Sanctity in Sumer. Palestinskiy sbornik 35:39–60 (Šumerskie zaklinanija konsekracii v svjazi s ponimaniem svjatosti u šumerov).

In the Neo-Assyrian astrological prescription the melammu-shining of Jupiter is mentioned only once: DIŠ MUL SAG.ME.GAR melammu šakin ‘If (star) Jupiter has melammu’ (Thompson Rep. 145rev.:1; CAD M2 12). 26 In the Sumerian texts me-lam2 is known also as a part of personal names and a name of the field: An-na-me-lam2-šudx (BU) ‘penetrating heavenly light,’ Lu2-E2-me-lam2-su3 ‘man of Emelamsu,’ Lugal-me-lam2-ma ‘the lord of light,’ Me-lam2-an-na ‘light of the Heaven,’ Me-lam2-kur-ra ‘light of the mountain,’ Melam2-Kiški ‘light of Kish,’ Ur-me-lam2-an-na ‘slave of the heavenly light,’ dUtu-melam2 ‘shining of sun’ (Römer 1975:154–156). Here also prevail contexts which confirm connection between melammu-shining and the celestial sphere. See also dating formula mu me-lam2-a-ni kur-kur-ra bi2-in-dul9 ‘year (when) his melammu covered all the countries’ (UET 3, 260rev.:3).

V. Emelianov, On the Early History of melammu Emelianov 2005 Flückiger-Hawker 1999 Jaques 2006 Klein 1981 Krebernik 1990 Krebernik 1992 Litke 1998 Oppenheim 1943 Oppenheim 1990 Römer 1975 Steinberg 1878 Steinkeller 1992

Vanstiphout 2002

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Emelianov, V. V. Calendar Ritual in Sumerian Religion and Culture (ME’s and the Spring Festivals). Diss. Hab. St. Petersburg State University (unpublished). Flückiger-Hawker, E. Urnamma of Ur in Sumerian Literary Tradition (OBO 166). Freiburg–Göttingen. Jaques, M. Le vocabulaire des sentiments dans les texts sumériens. Recherche sur le lexique sumérien et akkadien (AOAT 332). Münster. Klein, J. Three Šulgi Hymns. Sumerian Royal Hymns Glorifying King Šulgi of Ur. Ramat-Gan. Krebernik, M. Melammu. RlA 8:35. Krebernik, M. Mesopotamian Myths at Ebla: ARET 5, 6 and ARET 5, 7. Fronzaroli, P. (ed.). Literature and Literary Language at Ebla. Firenze. Pp. 63–149. Litke, R. A Reconstruction of the Assyro-Babylonian God-Lists AN: dA-nu-um and AN: Anu ša amēli (TYBC 3). New Haven. Oppenheim, A. L. Akkadian pul(u)¶(t)u and melammu. JAOS 63:31–34. Oppenheim, A. L. Ancient Mesopotamia. Portrait of a Dead Civilization (Russian translation). Moscow. Römer, W. H. Ph. Beiträge zum Lexikon des Sumerischen. 1. BiOr 32:146–157. Steinberg, O. N. A Hebrew and Chaldean Etymological Dictionary to the Books of the Old Testament. Vilna (Evrejskij i haldejskij etimologičeskij slovar’ k knigam Vethogo Zaveta). Steinkeller, P. Early Semitic Literature and Third Millennium Seals with Mythological Motifs. Fronzaroli, P. (ed.). Literature and Literary Language at Ebla. Firenze. Pp. 243–275. Vanstiphout, H. L. J. Sanctus Lugalbanda. Riches Hidden in Secret Places. Ancient Near Eastern Studies in Memory of Thorkild Jacobsen. Winona Lake. Pp. 259–289.

The Assumed Human Origin of Divine Dumuzi: A Reconsideration Jacob Klein Bar-Ilan University

Ever since the rich cultic literature concerning Dumuzi and Inana came to light, students of Sumerian literature and religion were puzzled about the origin and status of this dying and resurrecting fertility god. Thorkild Jacobsen, saw in Dumuzi a genuine and original god, who embodied the power of fertility in vegetation and animal world, and whose central ritual was the sacred marriage rite.1 The majority of scholars in recent research, on the other hand, tend to see in Dumuzi a historical human figure, who was only secondarily deified. The strongest evidence for the human origin of this god is of course the historical fact, that at least since Šulgi, all Ur III and Early Old Babylonian kings incarnated DumuziAma’ušumgal-ana in the sacred marriage rite, and after their demise were identified with the dead Dumuzi and other chtonic deities (such as Nin×išzida, Damu, Ištaran etc.).2 That Dumuzi was originally mortal is also reflected in Dumuzi’s Dream (l. 206), where Dumuzi appeals to the old woman, Belili, for protection from the demons saying: “I am not a man, I am the husband of a goddess”;3 and there are sporadic allusions

1

Jacobsen 1970:73–90; Jacobsen 1976:25–73. This hypothesis as to Dumuzi’s nature was prevalent in the early stages of research (see summary in Gurney 1962:147–150). 2 Cf. Edina-Usa×ake 285′–302′ (PRAK 2 D 41 ii 1–4; SK 26 vii 1–32); see Cohen 1988:676, ll. 168ff.; Jacobsen 1987:78f.; Fritz 2003:256–259; Shifra–Klein 1996:417f. For the theological and mythopoeic reasoning behind the deification of the Neo-Sumerian kings and their identification with Dumuzi, see further Alster 1972:12–15; idem 1995:1570–1571. Note, however, that due to a lacuna of undetermined size in the relevant section of Edina-Usa×ake, the extant list of dead kings begins with Ibbi-Sin, who died in captivity, and thus met a death similar to Dumuzi. Therefore, we cannot be certain that the earlier Ur III kings were identified with Dumuzi after their death. 3 Sum. lú nu-me-en dam di×ir-ra-me-en (Alster 1972:74). See already ibid. 74, l. 192: ‘O Utu, you are my brother-in-law, I am your sister’s husband!’

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in the Dumuzi-Inana love songs to his human status.4 Now, since Sumerian epic literature ascribes the performance of the sacred marriage rite with Inana already to Enmerkar of the First Dynasty of Uruk; and since two of his successors, Lugalbanda and Gilgameš, became posthumously deified, Falkenstein and Kramer, the major exponents of this hypothesis,5 identified the god with Dumuzi, ‘the fisherman,’ who according to the Sumerian King List ruled between the above two kings.6 This identification encounters two major difficulties: The first difficulty is the absence of Dumuzi in Early Dynastic god lists, where only the divine name Amaušumgal(-ana), which becomes later the major byname of Dumuzi, is attested. The second difficulty is the appearance of an earlier Dumuzi in the King List, in the ante-diluvian section, designated as a ‘shepherd’ and located at Badtibira.7 Now, Badtibira was known as the major cultic center of Dumuzi during the Old Sumerian and the Old Babylonian periods, where Dumuzi was worshipped in his temple, the é-muš-kalam-ma, occasionally under the epithet lugal-é-muš. This temple was built (or restored) by Enmetena of Lagaš, around 2400 BCE.8 A hymn dedicated to this temple, full of allusions to the sacred marriage of Dumuzi with Inana, is included in the well known collection of the Sumerian temple hymns, whose composition is ascribed to En¶eduana.9 In his long paper on the “philological aspect” of the Tammūz problem, read before the 3rd Rencontre,10 Falkenstein reviewed all administrative, historical and literary sources dealing with the god Dumuzi, which were available to him, and came to the conclusion that this deity must have originated from a merger of two posthumously deified human figures. These human figures, according to Falkenstein, could be either Amaušumgal-ana of Badtibira and the later Dumuzi of Uruk; or the two rulers by the name Dumuzi listed in the King List. In the following I will present Falkenstein’s major arguments in favor of this hypothesis, based on his above mentioned survey of the administrative and literary sources pertaining to Dumuzi. His data can now be updated and corrected with

4

See, e. g., Dumuzi-Inana O 20–22 (Sefati 1998:211); Y 55–65 (ibid. 269); C1 iii 4–13 (ibid. 288f.). 5 Cf. Falkenstein 1954:41ff.; Kramer 1969:57. 6 SKL iii 14–16 (Jacobsen 1939:88). 7 SKL i 15 (Jacobsen 1939:72). 8 Cf. Ent. 45–73 i 1–7 (Steible 1982 II 263; cf. RIME 1, p. 202, E1.9.5.3). 9 Cf. Sjöberg 1969:29–30, ll. 210–220. 10 Falkenstein1954.

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the help of subsequent studies by Renger,11 Kutscher,12 Sallaberger,13 Alster14 and Fritz.15 Falkenstein’s arguments, supplemented by the above studies are as follows: (a) Dumuzi does not appear in god-lists until the OB period. On the other hand, we find the god Ama-ušumgal, whose name becomes later the most important epithet of Dumuzi, in Early dynastic god-lists.16 From this Falkenstein concluded that the god Ama-ušumgal is an archaic forerunner of the later Dumuzi.17 (b) As to the element Dumuzi in personal names attested in administrative documents, the opinions differ. According to Falkenstein and recently Krebernik apud Fritz, this component in personal names in pre-Sargonic documents beginning from the Fara period refer to the goddess Dumuzi-abzu, a local goddess of Kinunir near Lagaš. According to this hypothesis, personal names with the fertility god Dumuzi as a component begin to appear only in the administrative texts from the Ur III period.18 Selz, Alster and other Sumerologists assume, on the other hand, that the Dumuzi who is attested in all personal names from the Fara period on, is identical with the fertility god Dumuzi, Inana’s husband.19 (c) Judging from references to the cult of Dumuzi in Third and Second Millennium administrative texts, Dumuzi remains a local god, whose worship is limited mainly to the areas of UrukKullaba, Badtibira and Øirsu. According to Kutscher, in all times, he had only two temples: one in Øirsu, which is attested from the Early Dynastic period until the end of the Ur III period, the other in Badtibira, attested from the ED period until the end of the OB period. It cannot be determined whether

11

Renger 1972–1975:251–259. Kutscher 1990. 13 Sallaberger 1993 I 233f., 257–264; II 190 (sub dDumu-zi). 14 Alster 1955. 15 Fritz 2003. 16 For these two divine names in god lists see Fritz 2003:55–67. 17 Falkenstein 1954:44. 18 Cf. recently Fritz 2003:207–212. 19 Selz 1995:114, n. 424; 116, n. 435; Alster 1995:1572. 12

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there was a temple of Dumuzi also in Umma, in the Sargonic period, or perhaps only a local shrine.20 (d) In cultic and historical sources Dumuzi first appears under his name in the Sargonic and Gutian Periods: in Umma, there is a month named after him and, as mentioned before, there may have been a temple or a local shrine dedicated to him. His cult is also attested in Adab. From a votive inscription of Ur-gigira of Uruk we conclude that this dynasty worshipped and represented Dumuzi in Badtibira. Similarly, later Utu-¶egal’s victory inscription indicates that Dumuzi and Gilgameš were included in the pantheon of this city.21 (e) That the cult of Dumuzi was already widely spread in the Ur III period is indicated by the numerous personal names with his name as a theophoric element, as well as the cultic calendar of this period. In Øirsu, he had a large temple, and the ‘Month of Dumuzi’ appears in the calendars of Lagaš (VI), Girsu (XI) and Umma (XII). During this month festivals of sacred marriage and mourning were probably celebrated. Offerings to Dumuzi are brought also in Nippur, Ku’ara, Adab, Badtibira, Ur and Uruk.22 (f ) Although Dumuzi is richly documented from the OB period on in cultic-religious literature, he is very rarely attested in offering lists and other administrative sources, apart from a few documents presumably stemming from an archive from Badtibira.23 In Isin the cult of Dumuzi was abandoned, and he is replaced by Ama’ušumgalana (and Damu). In Larsa (and Nippur), his cult is maintained. He is mentioned several times in the cultic calendar of Larsa and Badtibira (where he had his only temple at that time). In Sippar the 4th month is named after Dumuzi24 and in the fifth month (= Abu) there is a festival day called “the day of the captivity of Dumuzi” (ūm kimīt dDumuzi).25 20

Kutscher 1990:30ff., 43. Cf. Utu¶e×al 4:57–64 (RIME 2, p. 285). See further below. 22 See Sallaberger 1993 I 233f., 257–264; II 190 (sub dDumu-zi); Fritz 2003:225ff. In Uruk there is a ‘Month of Lugal-Emuš’ during which offering is brought (not to the latter but) to Dumuzi. 23 Kutscher 1990:37–39. 24 Du’ūzu (Tammuz = ituizi-izi-×ar). 25 Cf. lú dab-ba = kamû (CAD K 127b). Most bilinguals equate kamû with dab. The eighth month in Larsa and Badtibira corresponds to the fifth month of Sip21

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(g) Turning to the literary sources, Falkenstein observed that in the myth Inana’s Descent, the god who lives in the Emuš of Badtibira, is not Dumuzi, but Lulal; Dumuzi who is destined to die and descend to the netherworld, on the other hand, is located at Kulaba.26 It is only the lament literature, which identifies the two Dumuzis: that of Badtibira and that of UrukKulaba. This may indicate, according to Falkenstein, that later the two Dumuzi figures were fused and identified. (h) The tense relationship between Inana and Dumuzi and the fact that she could condemn him to death indicates that he could not have been a genuine, full-fledged, god. As a human being, Dumuzi could not escape the death-sentence and as such he shared the same fate with Gilgameš who also sought eternal life, but had to die and become a chthonic god.27 (i) Finally, in the standard Babylonian Gilgameš epic, Gilgameš counts Dumuzi among Inana’s dead lovers.28 It stands to reason that he refers to his predecessor who disappeared from history without leaving after him hereditary successors. Kutscher, whose study concentrates on the cult of Dumuzi, takes for granted the identification of this god with Dumuzi of Uruk. In his discussion of the Sargonic and Gutian sources, he quotes Utu¶egal’s words in his inscription, relating to his support from the pantheon of Uruk (ll. 55– 64):29 gu-ti-umki / den-líl-le ma-an-sum / nin-×u10 dinana / á-da¶-×u10-um / d dumu-zi / ama-ušum-gal-an-na-ke4 / nam-×u10 bí-du11 / dbil4-ga-mes / dumu dnin-sún-na-ke4 / maškim-šè ma-an-sum ‘Enlil has given Gutium to me. My lady, Inana, is my ally. Dumuzi-Ama-ušumgal-ana has declared: “It is a matter for me!” (and) he (= Dumuzi) gave me Gilgameš, the son of Ninsun, as bailiff.’ According to Kutscher “this passage, which establishes Dumuzi as superior to Gilgameš, accords well with the histori-

par. In Mari mourning rites for Dumuzi were held on the third month. Months named after Dumuzi we find also in Nuzi, Assur, Chagar-Bazar, Nērebtum, Tell Rimah, Iščali and Šubat-Enlil. 26 Falkenstein admits the possibility that Inana’s Descent presents us two Dumuzi figures: one in Badtibira, under the name Lulal; the other in Kullaba, under the name Dumuzi. 27 See also notes 3 and 4 above. 28 Standard Babylonian Epic VI 46–47 (George 2003:620). 29 Cf. RIME 2, pp. 285f.

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cal tradition of the Sumerian King List 109–115 (WB iii 14–20), where Dumuzi precedes Gilgameš on the throne of Uruk.”30 The identification of divine Dumuzi with the fourth ruler of the First Dynasty of Uruk was sharply contested by W. Heimpel. In his review of Kramer’s The Sacred Marriage Rite,31 Heimpel, in principle, agrees with Falkenstein and Kramer that Dumuzi is a deified human being. However, he points out the difficulties in identifying him with Dumuzi of Uruk. His major arguments are as follows. (a) The literary form of the tradition about Dumuzi is typologically different from that concerning the epical heroes Enmerkar, Lugalbanda and Gilgameš: the Dumuzi literature consists basically of cultic-mythological songs, and laments as against the zàmí type epics pertaining to the Uruk heroes.32 Assuming that myths antedate epics, the Dumuzi of the myths cannot be a contemporary of the epical heroes.33 (b) There are clear allusions to the divine Dumuzi in epics dedicated to Enmerkar and Lugalbanda, Dumuzi’s predecessors.34 (c) The first Dumuzi (that of Badtibira) has the epithet ‘shepherd’ (sipa), which is the standard epithet of divine Dumuzi in the

30

Even if we translate with Frayne (ibid.) and ETCSL 2.1.6 ‘he (= Gilgameš) has assigned him (= Dumuzi) as bailiff,’ still the context supports Kutscher’s conclusion. 31 Heimpel 1972:90–91. 32 Although Inana’s Descent is a zà-mí composition, it is basically a mythical work. 33 W. W. Hallo too, in his survey of Sumerian literature, points out the cultic nature of the Dumuzi texts, and concludes that “it is not certain whether Dumuzi reflects the Urukian ruler of the King List tradition or the antediluvian king of Bad Tibira.” Nevertheless, since the Descent of Inana myth ends with the zà-mí notation, he does not exclude the possibility that it reflects the fate of “a historic ruler of Uruk” (cf. Hallo 1974:190). 34 Cf. ELA 98–101 (Cohen 1973:68; cf. Jacobsen 1987:286): [ud]-ne ud te-en-e um-ma-[te]-a-ta / ki ddumu-zid-da u8 máš sila4?-ni lu-a / a kalag-ga a-šà ddumuzid-da-ka / udu kur-ra-gin7 du10 ¶a-ra-ni-ib-×ar ‘On that [day], after evening will have arrived, / in the place where the ewes, kids and lambs of Dumuzi multiply, in the Akalag, the fields of Dumuzi, may they (= the people of Aratta) bend their knees for you, like mountain sheep.’ Lugalbanda Epic II 155–157: ¶e2-×al2 dugšakir kug ddumu-zid-da-[ka-ka] / ì-bi ki-šár-ra-ke4 ša-ra-x […] / gara2-bi ki-šar2-ra-ke4 ša-ra-x […] ‘The plenty of Dumuzi’s holy butter churn, whose butter is the butter of all the world, shall be granted to you. Its milk is the milk of all the world; it shall be granted to you.’

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literary tradition. Dumuzi of Uruk, on the other hand, is designated in the King List as a ‘fisherman’ (šu-ku6). (d) The literary tradition does not speak of Dumuzi as the ruler of Uruk. Before his marriage his home is the steppe, and even thereafter he has not moved to the city of Uruk.35 For all these reasons, Heimpel prefers to identify the divine Dumuzi with the first Dumuzi in the King List, namely that of Badtibira. The last two objections of Heimpel were answered already by Falkenstein: It is true that Dumuzi of the literary texts and the first Dumuzi of the King List share the epithet ‘shepherd.’ However, this epithet is standard for rulers in Mesopotamian literature, and it could suppress the epithet ‘fisherman’ in the process of literary tradition. As to the location of divine Dumuzi in Kullaba, this is meaningless in view of the fact that Kulaba was merely a district of Uruk. Heimpel’s other two objections can also be answered. The allusions to Dumuzi in the epics dealing with Enmerkar and Lugalbanda, may be explained as late anachronisms. Heimpel’s first argument, namely that the Dumuzi literature, which is basically of cultic-mythological nature, must antedate the zà-mí type epics about the Uruk heroes, will be refuted, I believe, by the new data about Dumuzi of Uruk, which is the subject of the rest of this article. In 1991 I published an article in the Civil FS, about a new Nippur duplicate of the Sumerian King List, kept in the Brockmon Collection, University of Haifa,36 which joins text P3 of Jacobsen’s editio princeps.37 In that article I pointed out and discussed in detail a unique historical note concerning Dumuzi of the First Dynasty of Uruk, found in this duplicate. Whereas all other duplicates of the King List devote to Dumuzi only three lines, the Brockmon duplicate, whose obverse is extremely eroded and difficult to read, allots to him five lines. The first three lines

35

Cf. Inana’s Descent 347–349: ga-e-re7-dè-en ×iš¶aš¶ur gul-la edin kulaba -šè [ga-an-ši-re7-en-dè-en] / ×iš¶aš¶ur gul-la edin kul-aba4ki-šè ×iri3-ni-šè bae-re -eš / ddumu-zi túg ma¶-a i-im-mur10 ma¶-a dúr-a dúr im-ma-×ar ‘ “Let us go on. Let us go on to the great apple tree in the plain of Kulaba.” They followed her to the great apple tree in the plain of Kulaba. There was Dumuzi clothed in a magnificent garment and seated magnificently on a throne.’ 36 Klein 1991. 37 Text C in Glassner’s edition (cf. Glassner 2004:117). ki 4 re 7

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of this text are identical to the corresponding lines in all other duplicates, reading:38 dumu-zi šu-ku6 uru-ni ku’ara (ÚA.A)ki 100 mu ì-ak ‘Dumuzi, the fisherman, His city being Ku’ara, reigned 100 years.’

As to the extra two lines, which cannot be found in any of the other duplicates, I read them formerly as follows: šu-aš en?-me-bara2-ge4?-e-si nam-ra YìZ-ak?

which I accordingly translated: ‘Single-handed he captured Enmebaragesi.’

Having assumed that this manuscript of the King List is the earliest and most reliable one the OB duplicates, I came up with a rather speculative hypothesis. I surmised that the military conflict between Kiš and Uruk lasted two generations: first Dumuzi fought Enmebaragesi, capturing and eliminating him or her; and subsequently Gilgameš fought Aga, Enmebaragesi’s son, likewise capturing him, but afterwards allowing him to return to his city. This hypothetical historical reconstruction contradicted the hymnal tradition of Šulgi O, which praises Gilgameš of having captured Enmebaragesi of Kiš, whereby he ‘brought over the kingship from Kiš to Uruk.’39 On my second visit to the Hecht Museum at Haifa, in August 2006, I had the opportunity to collate BT 14, and copy it for publication. Upon collation, it turned out that my first reading of the historical note was erroneous, and therefore I owe an apology to all those colleagues who read my above article, and were mislead by it.40 The new reading, and this time I believe the correct one, is as follows: Y

šuZ-dili en-me-Ybara2-ge4-e-si-taZ nam-ra YakZ

which is to be translated: 38

SKL 109–111 (= WB iii 14–16). See discussion in Klein 1991:125–129. 40 Paticularly to Miguel Civil, Jean-Jacques Glassner, Claus Wilcke. 39

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‘He (i. e. Dumuzi) was taken captive by the single hand of Enmebaragesi.’

If my new reading of this note is correct, the ablative suffix -ta has here an instrumental function,41 and the non-finite ¶am¢u verbal root ak, is to be understood as an “intransitive/passive participle.”42 Before trying to evaluate the historical and mythological implications of this peculiar note about the fate of Dumuzi of Uruk, it should be emphasized that in the entire King List there is only one other similar note which synchronizes between two dynasties, namely the note which tells us that Sargon of Agade was, prior to his accession, the ‘cupbearer of UrZababa’ of Kiš.43 From this note Jacobsen concluded that Sargon was a contemporary of no less than 6 subsequent kings of Kiš, and one of Uruk—Lugalzagesi—before he gained control over Mesopotamia. Similarly, our note about the capture of Dumuzi by Enmebaragesi reveals that the latter was a contemporary of at least two kings of Uruk, namely Dumuzi and Gilgameš. Most probably, however, Enmebaragesi must have been in power even before Dumuzi, in the last years of the reign of Lugalbanda. Now, this newly gained “historical” data about Dumuzi seems to explain two puzzling details in his biography: (a) The fact that according to the King List the term of his kingship was short by 26 years from that of Gilgameš;44 and (b) that contrary to Gilgameš he did not have hereditary successors.45 However, what is more important from the point of view of our topic, this note may even provide the clue to the mythological tradition about the death of divine Dumuzi. If indeed the god Dumuzi is a fusion of the two human historical Dumuzi figures of the King List, we may 41

For the ablative suffix denoting the instrument or means, see Thomsen 1984:106, § 209; Edzard 2003:41f. For the compound šu PN-ak-ta and similar compounds with the ablative suffix, which were formed to circumvent the rule that this suffix cannot be used with animate nouns, see Thomsen 1984:104, § 205. 42 I. e., AK is perhaps to be read aka, standing for *ak-a (cf. Thomsen 1984: 255ff.; Edzard 2003:130ff.). For the full grammatical analysis of this sentence see my comments to this line in my forthcoming article “The Brockmon Collection Duplicate of the Sumerian King List” (BT 14), in which I offer an edition of BT 14+P3. 43 SKL 268 (= WB vi 33); cf. the chronological and historical analysis of this synchronism in Jacobsen 1939:145, 158–161, 178–179. 44 The King List ascribes to Dumuzi a reign of only 100 years, as against Gilgameš who is allotted a reign of 126 years (SKL 109–115 = WB iii 14–20). 45 SKL 116–121 (= WB iii 21–26).

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assume that whereas he took over from the ante-diluvian Dumuzi the epithet ‘shepherd,’ the mythological tradition about his home in UrukKulaba, as well as the legend about his tragic capture and descent to the netherworld, reflects the history of the post-diluvian Dumuzi of Uruk. In fact, the cultic-mythological literature about Dumuzi is quite equivocal as to the origins of divine Dumuzi. It had been pointed out already by Falkenstein, that in this literature Dumuzi and his family are sometimes related to Uruk-Kulaba, and other times to Badtibira and the Emuš temple.46 In fact, we can point to further evidence to the composite character of divine Dumuzi: whereas numerous laments refer to him as ‘the lord of Badtibira,’47 and locate his lamenting sister, Øeštinana, and his whimsy wife, Inana, in the vicinity of Badtibira,48 in a Dumuzi-Inana song he refers to himself as ‘the lord of Ku’ara’;49 and in one of the myths about his death his sister Øeštinana is referred to as ‘my lady, born in Ku’ar.’50 All 46

See especially Falkenstein 1954:58–59. Cf., e. g., Eršema 60:8–9 (Cohen 1981:90): ù-mu-un-e bàd-tibiraki nu-un-ti / su8-ba en ddumu-zi nu-un-ti ‘The lord of Badtibira, the beaten bull, lives no more, the shepherd, the lord Dumuzi, the beaten bull, lives no more!’ See further Inana and Bilulu 1–3 (ETCSL 1.4.4; cf. Jacobsen– Kramer 1953:172; Fritz 2003:127): edin-na ddumu-zi i-lu za-ra ilu za-ra [i-lu] Y bala× mu-unZ-da-Ydi-diZ [é a-r]a-Yli mu-unZ YbàdZ-tibiraki YmuZun ‘In the desert, my Dumuzi, I sing with her the wail for you, the wail for you, the “harp”-wail; in the temple of Arali, I sing with her; in Badtibira I sing with her’; VS 10, 123rev. i 6–10 (a Dumuzi lament): edin-šè di-mu-dè dimu-dè šà na-ba / ma-an-di5-di5 / edin-šè a-ra-li-šè di-mu-dè / edin-šè x-Ytiki-aZ-šè / edin bàd-tibiraki-a-šè / edin é-mùš-a-šè di-mu-dè šà na-ba-an-di-di; BE 30/1, 6 i 3–7 (cf. Fritz 2003:130): dama-ušumgal-an-na amaš-zu / ù-mu-un-e a-ra-li / su8-ba en ddumu-zi / ù-mu-un du6-su8-ba / mu-ud-na ga-ša-an-[an]-na / ù-mu-un-e bàdtibiraki-ke4; VS 2, 34obv.:5–8 (Fritz 2003:133): a guruš ù-mu-un-e a-ra-li / a guruš ù-mu-un-e du6-šuba2 / a guruš ù-mu-un-e bàd-tibiraki / a guruš ù-mu-un-e émùš. 48 See, e. g., JCS 40 (1988):168 ii 10–12 (a self-praise of Inana): mu-ú-[d]a-na×u10 YušumZ-gal-an-na-ke4 YmeZ? nam-YdamZ-šè in-×á?-YanZ-pà-da-dè bàd-ti-bíra YéZ-muš-kalam-ma-ta ‘My lover, Ušumgalana, has chosen me as his wife; in Badtibira, out of the Emuškalama …’ For further references to (edin)é-muš (-kalam-ma) in liturgical Dumuzi texts, see George 1993:129, sub No. 829; Fritz 2003:113, n. 412 (p. 120). 49 Dumuzi-Inana X 111–112 (cf. Sefati 2005:260; cf. Fritz 2003:151ff.): [×á]Y Z? e en-me-en uru-×u10 ki nu-m[u?-x-á×]-YeZ? / [ddumu]-YziZ-me-en sig4 ku6-akike4 [ki nu-mu?-x-á×]-YeZ? ‘[As for] me, who am a lord, my city does not love me! / I, Dumuzi, my city does not lo[ve me]!’ 50 I. e., in-nin-×u10 ú-tu-da ku’arki (Inana and Bilulu 143 = ETCSL 1.4.4; cf. Jacobsen–Kramer 1953:178, l. 153). See already Sefati’s comment to Dumuzi47

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these contradictory statements clearly attest to a merger of the two Dumuzi figures of the King List in late cultic-mythological literature. Furthermore, Dumuzi of Uruk’s tragic fate may even account for the rather surprising rejection of Inana-Ištar’s proposal of marriage by Gilgameš, according to Sumero-Akkadian mythic-epic tradition.51 In view of his predecessor’s violent death, Gilgameš may have reached the conclusion that the patron goddess of his city is not capable or is not reliable of protecting her human royal husbands. Accordingly he defied Inana-Ištar in refusing to marry her in the traditional sacred marriage rite. Whatever the relation between the divine Dumuzi and the post-diluvian Dumuzi of Uruk may be, the new reading of this historical note allows a better perspective as to the history of the political and military struggle between Kiš and Uruk toward the end of the ED II period. Assuming that this note is not a mere propagandistic Ur III or Isin addition to the King List, aiming to enhance the glory of Gilgameš, we may reconstruct the following hypothetical course of events: After a long and stable rule of the heroic king Lugalbanda over Uruk, the throne was seized by a certain Dumuzi from Ku’ara,52 who happened to be a weak ruler. This situation may have been exploited by Enmebaragesi of Kiš, to attack and capture him, and subjugate Uruk, by putting Gilgameš on its throne as a vassal-king. Whether Gilgameš was himself a usurper, or perhaps a relative of the royal family of Kiš, as a Sumerian epical source seems to indicate,53 he soon became popular in Uruk, and felt strong enough to rebel and free himself from Uruk’s tyInana X 112 (Sefati 2005:271). Note that Ku’ara is also mentioned in a wellknown OB Dumuzi lament, as a resting place of a Dumuzi figure, among the numerous graves where the cultic Dumuzi laments were recited; see Edina-Usa×a 158–159 (Cohen 1988:676; cf. Jacobsen 1987:77): gam-gam-da eden ku’araki-ka [al]-lá-gu-la-×u10 àm-nú-a-ba ‘Since in Gamgamda, in Ku’ara’s desert, my [Al]lagula is laid to rest …’ 51 See the Standard Babylonian Gilgameš Epic VI 1–79 (George 2003:470–474, 618–623); note already the MB Emar2 version (ibid. 332–335). This episode in the Akkadian epic is based on the Sumerian epic “Gilgameš, Inana and the Bull of Heaven” (Cavigneaux–Al-Rawi 1993:97–129; cf. especially ibid. 105, ll. 34–39; George 1999:166–175). Thus we deal here with a relatively old tradition concerning the defiance of the sacred marriage rite with Inana by Gilgameš. 52 For this city see Heimpel 1980–1983. It is not impossible that the epithet ‘fisherman,’ applied here to Dumuzi, reflects a word play on the name of the city of his origin, Ku6-a(r), which was connected by popular etymology with the word ku’a ‘fish.’ 53 Gilgameš and Huwawa 139 (Edzard 1991:211); see Shaffer 1983.

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rannical subjugation. He may have had a clash already with Enmebaragesi, as Šulgi hymn O claims.54 Most probably, however, he took the opportunity to rebel with the death of Enmebaragesi, Aga’s father or mother, taking advantage of the change in the rule, or the weakness of the new king of Kiš. I fully realize that the above hypothetical reconstruction of political history and history of religion is bound to be rejected by critical Sumerologists on methodological grounds. B. Alster, for example, who formerly considered Dumuzi a deified human king, and admitted that “numerous motifs and patterns from mythology and folklore (about him) were gathered around a center which may have had a limited historical origin,”55 recently changed his mind and opines that “With our present state of knowledge it must be admitted that there is no way of reaching back to any historical facts relating to the alleged existence of a ruler Dumuzi in the first half of the third millennium BCE, and that the accuracy of the King List cannot be trusted for this early period.”56 It is true that the above hypothesis concerning the origin of divine Dumuzi and the political and military struggle between Kiš and Uruk toward the end of the ED period II, is based on late literary sources, and is therefore highly speculative. But we should keep in mind, that the synchronisms between Gilgameš and the dynasty of Enmebaragesi provided by hymnic and epic literature are numerous and consistent; and this synchronism is now verified by a factual note in a historiographical source, which reports of a struggle between Dumuzi, the predecessor of Gilgameš, and Enmebaragesi of Kiš. And this historical note is supported by countless mythological and cultic sources, which all attest to the violent and untimely death of Dumuzi. We should bear in mind that Dumuzi and Gilgameš appear in a relatively late period, on the verge of history, and many of the late traditions about them agree with each other. Therefore, we cannot dismiss these traditions as mere product of the respective authors’ imagination. On the other hand, the ante-diluvian section of the King List, which tells about a king of Badtibira, by the name of Dumuzi, may be an artificial and fictional invention of an ancient historiographer, who conceived the god Dumuzi of Badtibira as the deified human eponym of the city of his worship. Hence, if there ever existed a human king by the name of Dumuzi in Sumerian his54

Šulgi O 54–60 (see pertinent bibliography in Klein 1991:126, n. 16). Alster 1972:13. 56 Alster 1995:1572. 55

J. Klein, The Assumed Human Origin of Divine Dumuzi…

1133

tory, it must have been the Dumuzi of the First Dynasty of Uruk, rather than the legendary ante-diluvian Dumuzi of Badtibira. References Alster 1972 Alster 1995 Cavigneaux–Al-Rawi 1993 Cohen 1973 Cohen 1981 Cohen 1988 Edzard 1991 Edzard 2003 Falkenstein 1954 Fritz 2003 George 1993 George 1999 George 2003 Glassner 2004 Gurney 1962 Hallo 1974 Heimpel 1972 Heimpel 1980–1983 Jacobsen 1939 Jacobsen 1970 Jacobsen 1976 Jacobsen 1987

Alster, B. Dumuzi’s Dream (Mesopotamia 1). Copenhagen. Alster, B. Tammuz. Van der Toorn, K. et al. (eds.). Dictionary of Deities and Demons in the Bible (DDD). Leiden, 1995. Cols. 1567–1579. Cavigneaux, A.; Al-Rawi, F. N. H. Gilgameš et taureau de ciel (šul-mè-kam). RA 87:97–129. Cohen, S. Enmerkar and the Lord of Aratta. PhD. Diss. Philadelphia. Cohen, M. E. Sumerian Hymnology: The Eršemma. Cincinnati. Cohen, M. E. The Canonical Lamentations of Ancient Mesopotamia. I–II. Potomac, 1988. Edzard, D. O. Gilgameš und Úuwawa A. II. ZA 81:211. Edzard, D. O. Sumerian Grammar. Leiden. Falkenstein, A. Tammuz. Van der Ploeg, J. P.; Kampman, A. A. (eds.). Tammouz dans les civilisations mésopotamiennes (CRRAI 3). Leiden, 1954. Pp. 41–65. Fritz, M. M. “… und weinten um Tammuz”. Die Götter Dumuzi-Ama’ušumgal’anna und Damu (AOAT 307). Münster. George, A. R. House Most High: The Temples of Ancient Mesopotamia. Winona Lake. George, A. R. The Epic of Gilgamesh. London. George, A. R. The Babylonian Gilgamesh Epic. I–II. Oxford. Glassner, J.-J. Mesopotamian Chronicles (SBL WAW 19). Atlanta. Gurney, O. R. Tammuz Reconsidered: Some Recent Developments. JSS 7:47–160. Hallo, W. W. Toward a History of Sumerian Literature. Lieberman, S. J. (ed.). Sumerological Studies in Honor of Thorkild Jacobsen (AS 20). Chicago. Pp. 181–203. Heimpel, W. Review of Kramer 1969. JAOS 92:288–291. Heimpel, W. Ku’ara. RlA 6:256–257. Jacobsen, T. The Sumerian King List (AS 11). Chicago. Jacobsen, T. Toward the Image of Tammuz and Other Essays on Mesopotamian History and Culture. Cambridge (MA). Jacobsen, T. The Treasures of Darkness: A History of Mesopotamian Religion. New Haven–London. Jacobsen, T. The Harps that Once …: Sumerian Poetry in Translation. New Haven–London.

1134 Jacobsen–Kramer 1953 Klein 1991 Kramer 1969 Kutscher 1990 Poebel 1914 Renger 1972–1975 Sallaberger 1993 Sefati 1998 Sefati 2005

Selz 1995 Shaffer 1983 Shifra–Klein 1996 Sjöberg 1969 Steible 1982 Thomsen 1984

Religion and Ideology Jacobsen, Th.; Kramer, S. N. The Myth of Inanna and Bilulu. JNES 12:66–68, 160–188. Klein, J. A New Nippur Duplicate of the Sumerian King List in the Brockmon Collection, University of Haifa. Michalowski, P. (ed.). AuOr (Fs. M. Civil) 9:123–129. Kramer, S. N. The Sacred Marriage Rite. Bloomington. Kutscher, R. The Cult of Dumuzi/Tammuz. Klein, J.; Skaist, A. (eds.). Bar-Ilan Studies in Assyriology Dedicated to Pinhas Artzi. Ramat-Gan. Pp. 29–44. Poebel, A. Historical Texts (PBS 4/1). Philadelphia. Renger, J. Heilige Hochzeit. A. Philologisch. RlA 4:251– 259. Sallaberger, W. Der kultische Kalender der Ur III-Zeit. I–II. Berlin–New York. Sefati, Y. Love Songs in Sumerian Literature: Critical Edition of the Dumuzi-Inanna Songs. Ramat-Gan. Sefati, Y. At Dead of Night I will Come (DI X). Sefati, Y. et al. (eds.). “An Experienced Scribe Who Neglects Nothing”: Ancient Near Eastern Studies in Honor of Jacob Klein. Bethesda. Pp. 254–286. Selz, G. Untersuchungen zur Götterwelt des altsumerischen Stadtstaates von Lagaš (OPSNKF 13). Philadelphia. Shaffer, A. Gilgamesh, the Cedar Forest and Mesopotamian History. JAOS 103:309–313 Shifra, Sh.; Klein, J. In Those Distant Days: Anthology of Ancient Near Eastern Poetry in Hebrew. Tel Aviv, 1996. Sjöberg, Å. W. The Collection of the Sumerian Temple Hymns (TCS 3). Locust Valley. Steible, H. Die altsumerischen Bau- und Weihinschriften. I– II. (FAOS 5). Wiesbaden. Thomsen, M.-L. The Sumerian Language. Copenhagen.

Mesopotamia and the Bible

Foreign Languages and Hegemony Michael B. Dick Siena College

My thesis claims that foreign languages (Sprachidiomata) in both Mesopotamia and Israel have two nuances depending on their relationship to empire. When within the center (Cosmos), a polyglot society is possible; outside in the periphery (Chaos), they are a threat and embody nakrūtu! First of all, foreign languages (idiomata) could be seen in a neutral context. The Assyrian Empire of the 8th century was clearly polyglot, especially in Eber Nāri—Phoenician, Aramaic, Israelite, Judahite, Luwian, etc. Such a mix would also result from Assyrian policies of mass deportation.1 This linguistic tolerance reached its climax in the later Achaemenid period. We can see this attitude in the dedication inscription of Sargon II for his new capital. 72. ba-’u-lat ar-ba-’i EME a-¶i-tu at-me2 la mit-¶ur-ti a-ši-bu-te KUR-e u3 KUR mala ir-te-’-u2 ZALAG2 DINGIR.MEŠ EN gim-ri ‘People of the four regions (speaking in) foreign language(s), (of) divergent speech, living in mountains and flat lands—as many as the light of the gods, the Lord of the universe, guides—’ 73. ša i-na zi-kir da-šur EN-ia i-na mi-tel ši-bir-ri-ia aš2-lu-la pa-a 1-en u2ša2-aš2-kin-ma u2-šar-ma-a qe2-reb-šu ‘Whom I took prisoner with the power of my scepter at the order of Aššur, my Lord, I imposed (on them) “one single mouth,” and I settled them within it (Dūr-Sharrukīn).’

Second, foreign languages could also epitomize the “other” and represent the tension between the center “we” and the periphery “them.”2 In a text from Adad-nirari I (14th century BCE), who greatly expanded the Assyrian homeland, earning the title šar kiššati, we find linked “enemies, strangers, foreigners, and foreign languages” (nakara a¶â ajāba

1

Saggs, H. W. F. The Encounter with the Divine in Mesopotamia and Israel. London, 1978, pp. 127–128. 2 ša šadûšunu [Elam, Subartu, Gutium, and Tukriš] nesû lišānšunu egrū (UET I, 146 iii–iv 6; iv 6–7, Hammurabi). Sumerian: kur-bi ba9-ra2 eme-bi gilim-ma.

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Mesopotamia and the Bible

lemna lišāna nakirta… (AOB I, 64:45).3 Since the periphery (Chaos) must be dominated in order to create a Cosmos, foreign languages are often cited in contexts of threat and hegemony, chaos and cosmos. In sum, the perception of a foreign language depends on whether it submits to the aegis of the center, which relates to the injunction of the Assyrian coronation ritual māta ruppiš.4 This view of foreign languages approximates the Greek use of βάρβαρος which also connotes power and control.5 βαρβάρων δ’ Ἕλληνας ἄρχειν εἰκός, ἀλλ’ οὐ βαρβάρους, µῆτερ, Ἑλλήνων: τὸ µὲν γὰρ δοῦλον, oἳ δ’ ἐλεύθεροι (Euripides. Iphigenia in Aulis 1400)

The Greeks are destined to rule over the barbarians, a persistent theme throughout Aeschylus’ Persians, where the Queen mother has a dream of her son Xerxes unsuccessfully trying to yoke a Greek woman and a “barbarian” woman (Persian) to his chariot. In Livy’s Ab urbe condita, a Macedonian ambassador in his speech to Greek allies on the brink of forming alliances with Rome points out this polarity: Cum alienigenis cum barbaris aeternum omnibus Graecis bellum est eritque (XXXI 29, 15).

The word βάρβαρος is disparaging from its very etymon, since it stems from a root indicating (1) a bodily defect such as unintelligible “stuttering,” or (2) unintelligible animal sounds, particularly bird chirps (Strabo XIV 2 28ff.). The priestesses of Dodona were called barbaroi because they chirped like birds (Strabo XIV 2 28ff.). Βάρβαρος describes the quintessential “other.” This same dual evaluation (speech defect and animal

3

All Assyriological abbreviations follow the abbreviations in the CAD. KAR 3:16. It is common that imperial ideology considers the same phenomenon in different ways: “Ideology has the function of explaining … how and why some events acquire a positive value in one place but a negative one in another, introduce order if performed by us, but disorder if performed by others.” Liverani, M. The Ideology of the Assyrian Empire. Larsen, M. T. (ed.). Power and Propaganda: A Symposium on Ancient Empires (MCSA 7). Copenhagen, 1979, pp. 298. See p. 306 for a treatment of chaos and cosmos, which is borrowed from Eliade, M. Le sacré et le profane. Paris, 1965. 5 Arabic uses of ¢im¢im(iyyu)n and ‘ağamun originally referred to speech defects but later to foreigners’ attempts to speak Arabic. Talmudic Aramaic uses ‫פסילוס‬ (from Greek ψελλός) which denotes both stammering and dialectal oddities. See Alon, I. Introduction. IOS 14 (1994):243–248. 4

M. B. Dick, Foreign Languages and Hegemony

1139

sounds) in the portrayal of foreign languages in the periphery occurs in both Mesopotamia and in the Hebrew Bible. Foreign languages outside the center as speech defect In the bilingual Hammurabi passage cited previously, a lišānu a¶ītu can also be called egru “twisted” (Sumerian eme-bi gilim), which besides having a connotation of “perverse” also suggests a bodily defect.6 The protasis in a medical series reads ša amīlu pâšu kabit, and “heavy mouth” probably implies a speech deficiency. Misspeaking Sumerian can be likened to a speech difficulty (perhaps “stuttering”).7 “In the Sumerian tongue he is heavy, he cannot keep his tongue straight.”8 This semantic field helps us explain the Hebrew reference to Moses ‫( ְכבַד־פֶּה אָנֺכִי וּ ְכבַד לָשׁוֹן‬Ex 4:10). Traditionally this has referred either to Moses’ inability to speak Egyptian after his putative 60 year absence from Egypt (Ex 7:7) or to a speech defect. A similar phrase in Ezek 3:5–6 clearly applies “heavy tongued” to foreign language: ‫שׂפָה ְו ִכבְדֵ י‬ ָ ‫ כּי ֹלא אֶל־עַם ִע ְמ ֵקי‬5 ‫לָשׁוֹן אַתָּ ה שָׁלוּ ַח אֶל־בֵּית יִשׂ ְָראֵל׃ ֹלא׀‬ ‫שׂפָה ְו ִכבְדֵ י לָשׁוֹן‬ ָ ‫אֶל־ ַעמִּים ַרבִּים ִע ְמ ֵקי‬ ‫שׁמַע דִּ ב ְֵריהֶם אִם־ֹלא ֲאלֵיהֶם‬ ְ ִ‫ֲאשֶׁר ֹלא־ת‬ ‫׃‬.‫שׁמְעוּ ֵאלֶיָך‬ ְ ִ ‫שׁ ַלחְתִּ יָך ֵה ָמּה י‬ ְ 6

‘For you are sent, not to a people of unintelligible speech and difficult language, but to the House of Israel — 6 not to the many peoples of unintelligible speech and difficult language, whose talk you cannot understand. If I sent you to them, they would listen to you.’9 3:5

Likewise, the Hebrew roots ‫לעג‬, ‫לעז‬, ‫עלג‬, and possibly ‫( זעם‬Hos 7:16)10 indicate both speech defects as well as the speaking of foreign languages. In Isa 28:11 ‫“ לעג‬stammer” is parallel to ‫ ָלשׁוֹן אַח ֶֶרת‬. Ps 114:1 ‫ ֵמעַם ֹלעֵז‬is 6 See CAD K 42a 2′ for bodily defects. Also see Tigay, J. H. “Heavy of Mouth” and “Heavy of Tongue” on Moses’ Speech Difficulty. BASOR 231 (1978):59. 7 eme-gerx-še3 al-dugud eme-ni si nu-ub-sa2. 8 Kramer, S. N. The Sumerians: Their History, Culture, and Character. Chicago, 1963, p. 223; Sjöberg, Å. W. The Old Babylonian Eduba. Lieberman, S. J. (ed.). Sumerological Studies in Honor of Thorkild Jacobsen (AS 20). Chicago, 1976, p. 162. 9 Unless otherwise indicated, the English translation is taken from the Jewish Publication Society Tanakh (1985). 10 Paul, S. M. Hosea 7:16: Gibberish Jabber. Divrei Shalom: Collected Studies of Shalom M. Paul on the Bible and the Ancient Near East 1967–2005 (CHANE 23). Leiden, 2005, pp. 257–262.

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translated by the Old Greek as ἐκ λαοῦ βαρβάρου. In Isa 32:4 the metathetic form ‫ ִע ְלּגִם‬uses the qi¢¢ēl pattern for physical disabilities to mean “stutterers”. Later in Saadia and Jonah Ibn Janāµ the root ‫ עלג‬means a foreign language.11 In Akkadian many words used for language designated as “foreign” are also part of disease vocabulary. The Š form of šanû B is used of a foreign language in šunnâ lišānu (eme gu3.bal.bal.e);12 with other body parts, the verb means insanity, confusion, which is very similar to the range of the verb nakāru. Foreign languages outside the center as animal sounds The Neo-Assyrian text of Ashurnasirpal II madattu ša KUR siparmena ša kīma sinnišāti ´abrūni am¶ur (AKA 322:76) probably means “I received the tribute from the people of the land of Siparmena who chirp like women.”13 The enigmatic passage in Isa 28:11–13 mocks Samaria and its leaders; they had initially jeered the prophet in 28:10, so now God announces that He is bringing Assyria (implied) like a flood down on them, a people jabbering in a foreign unintelligible tongue (28:11: ‫שׂפָה‬ ָ ‫ְבּ ַל ֲעגֵי‬ ‫)וּ ְב ָלשׁוֹן אַח ֶֶרת‬, chirping in bird talk ‫צַו ָלצָו צַו ָלצָו קַו לָקָ ו קַו ָלקָו‬. This crux interpretum which seems to parallel the speakers of foreign jibberish (the Assyrians), has been variously understood as learning the ABCs (Driver and earlier), sounds and actions of drunkards (vomit & excrement). However, it can also refer to the chirping of their approaching Assyrianspeaking masters. In S. A. Hopkins’ revisions to G. R. Driver, Semitic Writing, Hopkins finds acceptable roots witnessed in Arabic for chatter.14 In W. G. Lambert’s edition of the birdcall text,15 the suššuru-bird calls keke-e; the partridge (buru5.¶abrud.damušen) calls ´i ´i.16 Aramaic ‫צוץ‬III means “to 11

Weinberg, W. Language Consciousness in the OT. ZAW 92 (1980):191. CAD Š1 403b; 4R 20:23f. The phrase is also found in BWL 128:49 (Hymn to Shamash). The noun muštannû (LU2.KUR2) means enemy. 13 I prefer to derive the verb from ´abāruA “to twitter (of birds)” rather than from ´epēru “to dress hair” as does the CAD Ô (however CAD S 290a says “twitter [?]”). See Liverani, M. Stereotipi della lingua “altra” nell’Asia anteriore antica. VO 3 (1980):18. 14 ¯awwatu “clamor”14 and qawqaw “croaking of frogs” or qâqa “a hen.” 15 Lambert, W. G. The Birdcall Text. AnSt 20 (1970):111–117. In view of this text scholars should be forgiven attempts to find words in the Isaiah text: “plumb line, command, etc.” 16 As in Isa 28:10, 13, in many languages bird calls are duplicated sounds, e. g. cuckoo, Kuckkuck. 12

M. B. Dick, Foreign Languages and Hegemony

1141

peep” and ‫ קוֹקוֹ‬means a “croak”, while ‫ קוּקיא‬is a type of bird (cuckoo?). Isa 18:2 (see 18:7) calls Egyptians “tall and fearsome” and ‫קַו־קָ ו גּוֹי‬, a people of unintelligible (bird?) sounds. Perhaps the beginning of that Hôy-oracle does not refer to the whirr of insect wings in Egypt (clearly an acceptable meaning according to Herodotus 2.95); but rather it represents the unintelligible Egyptian language. Hegemony and foreign languages Mesopotamia The previous text from Sargon II showed that there many languages could coexist as long as they were placed within a cosmos under one authority pû ištēn. The redactional history of the submission of Gyges of Lydia to Ashurbanipal illustrates this point. Here I follow in the main the reconstruction of Cogan and Tadmor.17 Probably the earliest version of this encounter, to be dated to ca. 666/5 BCE, is called Prism E1 and mentions a rider (rakbû, RA.GABA) who arrives at the Assyrian border to seek submission to Ashurbanipal (ana ša’āl šulmēya).18 The emphasis in the preserved text is on the incommunicability of his foreign language: lišānšu nakratma lā išemmû atmûšu, which also reinforces the priority topos. The implication is that he comes from a territory not assigned Ashurbanipal by Ashur (lines 10–11), i. e. from chaos, the periphery. In Prism E2 (dated to ca. 665/664) the king is identified, who as in E1 is from an ašru rūqu.19 In this redaction, a messenger (lu A.KIN = mār šipri) reports to Ashurbanipal that the God Ashur had appeared to Gyges (Š of 2

17 Cogan, M.; Tadmor, H. Gyges and Ashurbanipal: A Study in Literary Transmission. Or NS 46 (1977):65–84. Also see Gelio, R. La délégation envoyée par Gygès, roi de Lydie. Fales, F. M. (ed.). Assyrian Royal Inscriptions: New Horizons (Orientis Antiqui Collectio XVIII). Roma, 1981, pp. 203–224. 18 The phrase rakbû / mār šipri + ana ša’āl šulmēya is only used in the heroic-priority contexts of voluntary submission to Assyria. See Gelio, R. La délégation envoyée par Gygès, roi de Lydie. Fales, F. M. (ed.). Assyrian Royal Inscriptions: New Horizons (Orientis Antiqui Collectio XVIII). Roma, 1981, p. 205. The typical “heroic-priority topos” in Neo-Assyrian royal inscriptions is provided by the geographical notation: ša matēma rakbûkun daraggu lā iškuna ana kisurri. The “heroicpriority” motif has been thoroughly studied in Roberto Gelio’s 1977 dissertation at the Università di Roma, “Ovvero il motivo della priorità eroica nelle iscrizioni reali assyre.” 19 The heroic-priority motif is more regular, which becomes even more developed in editions B, C, F, and A: šarrāni alīkūt ma¶ri abbūya lā išmû zikir šumišu.

1142

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barû) and told him to take hold of Ashurbanipal’s feet and to acknowledge his suzerainty (ana epēš ardūti). This theophany is placed in the very center of the narrative. Since the focus is on the submission of Gyges, the enemy (nakru) is no longer the language of Gyges’ rider, as in E1, but on the Cimmerians (LU2.KUR2): Gyges is no longer the periphery; he has been brought within the cosmos. In turn, the Cimmerians have become Ashur’s enemies. Gyges’ messenger now communicates flawlessly—there is no longer a language barrier, and so no mention of a bēl lišānišu. Israel In the long list of curses in Deut 28, God threatens Israel with the ultimate curse, which is picked up and applied by the 8th-century Prophets: ‫ יִשָּׂא י ְהוָה ָעלֶיָך גּוֹי מ ֵָרחוֹק ִמ ְקצֵה‬49 ‫שׁר גּוֹי ֲאשֶׁר‬ ֶ ָ‫ָאָרץ ַכּ ֲאשֶׁר י ִדְ ֶאה ַהנּ‬ ֶ ‫ה‬ ‫שׁמַע ְלשׁ ֹנוֹ׃‬ ְ ִ‫ֹלא־ת‬ 28:49

‘The LORD will bring a nation against you from afar, from the end of the earth, which will swoop down like the eagle—a nation whose language you do not understand…’

The increasing Assyrian threat to Israel that now represents the periphery/chaos was frequently couched in terms of confronting a foreign language. Many of the texts we have already mentioned should be seen in that context. In the Book of Hosea, Samaria was torn between submitting either to Assyria to Egypt (7:11; 12:2). In linguistic terms, would they learn Egyptian or Akkadian? In Hos 7:16 delegates to Egypt are mocked: ‫׀ ֹלא עָל הָיוּ ְכּ ֶקשֶׁת ְר ִמיּ ָה יִפְּלוּ‬.‫ י ָשׁוּבוּ‬16 ‫ַבח ֶֶרב שׂ ֵָריהֶם ִמזַּעַם לְשׁוֹנָם זוֹ ַל ְעגָּם ְבּא ֶֶרץ‬ ‫ִמצ ְָרי ִם׃‬ 16

‘They come back; They have been of no use, Like a slack bow. Their ambassadors shall fall by the sword, Because of the stammering of their tongues. Such shall be the results of their jabbering in the land of Egypt.’20

The ambassadors’ attempts to negotiate submission to Egypt are concretized in their use of the Egyptian language, which was ultimately gib-

20 The phrase ‫ ִמזַּעַם לְשׁוֹנָם‬does not refer to “indignation” but to “stuttering” with a good basis in Arabic zaāum (‫)زغم‬. Shalom Paul translates the line “their jibberish jabber.” The remaining ‫ זוֹ ַל ְעגָּם‬is probably an explanatory gloss.

M. B. Dick, Foreign Languages and Hegemony

1143

berish; they failed and will die by the sword. The defective language of Egypt had already been mentioned in Ps 114:1: ‫ ְבּצֵאת י ִשׂ ְָר ֵאל ִמ ִמּצ ְָרי ִם ֵבּית יַעֲק ֹב‬1 ‫ֵמעַם ֹלעֵז׃‬ αλληλουια ἐν ἐξόδῳ Ισραηλ ἐξ Αἰγύpτου οἴκου Iακωβ ἐκ λαοῦ βαρβάρου 114:1 ‘When Israel went forth from Egypt, the house of Jacob from a people of strange speech…’

114:1

Isa 19:1–15 announces defeat for Egypt, which will submit to a harsh taskmaster (v. 4): ‫וּ ֶמלְֶך עַז י ִ ְמשָׁל־בָּם‬.21 The poem concludes (probably a later addendum with ‫ )בַּיּוֹם הַהוּא‬with ironic mention of Egypt’s having to learn the language of Canaan: ‫שׂפַת ְכּנַעַן‬ ְ ‫( יְהְיוּ ָחמֵשׁ ע ִָרים ְבּא ֶֶרץ ִמצ ְַרי ִם מְדַ בְּרוֹת‬v. 18). As we saw previously, Isa 28:11–13 turns the mockery of the Prophet’s opponents against them. The God of Israel will force a foreign language, a stammering speech (Assyrian), upon Isaiah’s opponents; they will lose their ‫“ ַהמְּנוּחָה‬rest,” which to the Deuteronomist had always meant an occupation of their land free from external threat (Deut 12:9; 30:15). In a 180˚ reversal of this fate, Isa 33:17–24 dreams of restoration for Israel from foreign suzerains. ‫שׂפָה‬ ָ ‫אֶת־עַם נוֹעָז ֹלא תִ ְראֶה עַם ִע ְמ ֵקי‬ ‫ִמשְּׁמוֹ ַע נִ ְלעַג לָשׁוֹן אֵין בִּינָה׃‬ ‘No more shall you see the barbarian folk, the people of speech too obscure to comprehend, stammering in a language that you cannot understand.’22 19

This dual view of foreign languages (chaos and cosmos) may help us understand other biblical passages. Here I shall look at 2 Kings 18:13– 19:37 and Gen 11:1–9. 2 Kings 18:13–19:37 2 Kings 18:13–19:3723 is a complex passage detailing Sennacherib’s invasion of Judah in 701 BCE. I am not primarily concerned with the source-

The identity of this harsh taskmaster ranges from Sargon II or Pianky (8th century) to Antiochus III in the 2nd century. 22 I am indebted to many of the suggestions of J. Blenkinsopp, Isaiah 1–39 (AB 19). New York, 2000, pp. 444–445. 23 There are parallels in Isa 36–39 and 2 Chr 32. The priority of the accounts in 2 Kings and Isaiah remain a source of controversy among scholars. For a treatment of the parallel texts, see Machinist, P. The Rab Šāqēh at the Wall of Jerusalem: Israelite Identity in the Face of the Assyrian “Other.” HS 41 (2000):151–168. 21

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critical division of the passage into A and B (and possibly B1 & B2), nor with its verisimilitude with Assyrian war policy. The speech of the rab šāqēh is an excellent example of Assyrian pî ¢ābi or dibbī ¢ābūti “sweet talk” used in Assyrian siege-craft;24 and yes, Aramaic (2 Kings 18:26) was widespread in the Assyrian provinces west of the Euphrates. However, I am more interested in the ideology of 2 Kings 18:26, which is the response of Hezekiah’s court officials to the first rab šāqēh address. ‫שׁ ְבנָה‬ ֶ ‫ וַיּ ֹא ֶמר ֶא ְליָקִים בֶּן־ ִח ְל ִקיּ ָהוּ ְו‬26 ‫שׁקֵה דַּ בֶּר־נָא אֶל־ ֲעבָדֶ יָך‬ ָ ‫ֶל־רב־‬ ַ ‫וְיוֹאָח א‬ ‫א ֲָרמִית כִּי שׁ ֹ ְמעִים ֲאנָחְנוּ וְאַל־תְּ דַ בֵּר ִעמָּנוּ‬ ‫י ְהוּדִ ית בְּאָזְנֵי ָהעָם ֲאשֶׁר עַל־הַחֹמָה׃‬ 26

‘Eliakim son of Hilkiah, Shebna, and Joah replied to the Rabshakeh, “Please, speak to your servants in Aramaic, for we understand it; do not speak to us in Judean in the hearing of the people on the wall.”.’

The request of the Jerusalemite officials that the Assyrians speak in Aramaic is more than just a nice historical or psychological touch; in line with what I have been discussing in this paper, their language request marks their first steps to recognizing the suzerainty of Assyria by adopting its diplomatic language. (Just as Hosea saw the Israelite ambassador speaking Egyptian was already a doomed sign of submission.) In 2 Kings 18:37 – 19:5 (actually the older B1 account), the Deuternomistic Historian depicts the diffidence and wavering in Hezekiah’s court, which reaches full despair with their torn garments and sackcloth.25 This becomes quite clear when the court officials deliver this message to the Prophet Isaiah; they address The God of Israel as ‫“ י ְהוָה אֱֹלהֶיָך‬the Lord your God” (2 Kings 19:4). Isaiah is only able to bolster their confidence with his following oracle of salvation (2 Kings 19:6–7). This royal flirtation with submission is considerably diminished in the later accounts (B2 and 2 Chr 32) which portray a more confident and defiant Judahite government. Genesis 11:1–9 With foolish bravado, I finish this present paper with some tentative suggestions for the poorly termed “Tower of Babel” narrative in Gen 11:1–9. Quot homines, tot opiniones! A recent treatment by T. Hiebert lists quite 24

Gallagher, W. R. Sennacherib’s Campaign to Judah: New Studies. Halpern, B.; Weippert, M. H. E. (eds.). Studies in the History and Culture of the Ancient Near East. XVIII. Leiden, 1999, p. 171. 25 Ibid. 217.

M. B. Dick, Foreign Languages and Hegemony

1145

persuasively the many mistaken readings of this passage.26 His conclusion, however, is somewhat bothersome. He tries to remove all negativity from the story (no more “sins of arrogance and pride” and subsequent punishment) in order to see it ultimately as narrating the origin of cultural diversity, with Babylon adjudged as the cradle of civilization. Then the only tension in the narrative would be the human centripetal force towards cultural homogeneity and God’s centrifugal reaction towards cultural heterogeneity. Hiebert criticizes as “post-colonial” C. Uehlinger’s theory that Gen 11:1–9 deals with God’s dissipating the imperial oppression (ištēn pâ šakānu / ‫שׂפָה ֶאחָת‬ ָ ) of Assyria (and later Babylon). For Uehlinger the collapse of the “city and tower” would be based on the collapse of Dūr Sharrukīn / Nineveh and secondarily of Babylon (similar to what is found in the redaction of Isa 14). With Uehlinger, I agree on the significance of Dūr Sharrukīn for exegesis; however, I disagree with both Hiebert and Uehlinger on evaluating the narrative’s multilingual outcome. It is neither a freedom from oppression nor the neutral story of multicultural origins. Multiple languages and attendant incommunicability (‫שׂפַת ֵרעֵהוּ׃‬ ְ ‫ )ֹלא יִשְׁמְ עוּ אִישׁ‬symbolize a reversion to chaos (recall the Prism E1 in the Gyges narrative); in its final redaction the following Abraham story is supposed to ameliorate this chaos: ‫( ְונִב ְְרכוּ בְָך כּ ֹל מִשְׁ פְּח ֹת ָה ֲאדָ מָה׃‬Gen 12:3). God, not Sargon II, will restore a cosmos from chaos.27 My thesis claims that there are two attitudes towards foreign languages, depending on their being controlled by the center or not. In Gen 10–11, the Book of Genesis presents both possibilities side by side. Gen 10 details the spread of languages throughout its world with no hint of disapproval: ‫ְאַרצ ֹתָ ם‬ ְ ‫ ֵמ ֵאלֶּה נִפ ְְרדוּ ִאיּ ֵי הַגּוֹי ִם בּ‬10:5 ‫שׁפְּח ֹתָם בְּגוֹיֵהֶם׃‬ ְ ‫אִישׁ ִללְשׁ ֹנוֹ ְל ִמ‬

26

Hiebert, T. The Tower of Babel and the Origins of the World’s Cultures. JBL 126 (2007):29–58. 27 In Zeph 3, the prophet follows his jubilant announcement of Nineveh’s fall with a promise that the peoples again will experience ištēn pû. In the Eschaton (3:8) the Tower of Babel will be reversed! Such a speech, however, is not any particular language (Sprachidiom),27 say Hebrew as it will later be understood, but the Rede which establishes cosmos:

‫ְרוּרה‬ ָ ‫שׂפָה ב‬ ָ ‫ כִּי־אָז ֶאהְפְֹּך אֶל־ ַעמִּים‬9 ‫שׁכֶם ֶאחָד׃‬ ְ ‫ִלקְר ֹא ֻכלָּם ְבּשֵׁם י ְהֹוָה ְל ָעבְדוֹ‬ 9

‘For then I will make the peoples pure of speech, So that they all invoke the LORD by name And serve Him with one accord.’

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Mesopotamia and the Bible 10:5

‘From these the maritime nations branched out. These are the descendants of Japheth by their lands—each with its language—their clans and their nations.’

The Priestly Writer’s account in Gen 10 is out of logical sequence with the following etiological narrative of the Tower of Babel; and chapter 10’s Table of Nations seems to face backwards towards Noah’s prior blessing in Gen 9:1. This blessing places foreign languages in the Table of Nations within the perspective of a divine Cosmos. ‫ַויְב ֶָרְך אֱֹלהִים אֶת־נ ֹ ַח ְואֶת־ ָבּנָיו וַיּ ֹא ֶמר‬ ‫ָאָרץ׃‬ ֶ ‫וּרבוּ וּ ִמלְאוּ אֶת־ה‬ ְ ‫ָלהֶם פְּרוּ‬ 9:1

‘God blessed Noah and his sons, and said to them, “Be fertile and increase, and fill the earth.”.’

On the other hand, Gen 11:1–9 is not so positive, pace Hiebert. The collapse of any pâ ištēn or ‫שׂפָה ֶאחָת‬ ָ “imperium” is inherently ambiguous. For Judah, the collapse of Nineveh in 612 BCE was sheer joy (Nah 2:1), for the Ninevites, it was pure chaos. However, the broader redactional context of Gen 1–11 the so-called Primeval History suggests that this history represents a tug of war (перетягивание каната, ein Tauziehen, tiro alla fune, gagneterrain) between the spread of blessing and the spread of curse. In this final redaction framework, the Yahwist’s account of the Tower of Babel (Gen 11) would then present a negative counterbalance to the spread of language as berakah “blessing” in the previous Table of Nations (Gen 10). Thus, the primeval history ends on this negative note of Chaos—only to be resolved by the following Abraham narrative (Gen 12:2–3).28 Conclusion This description of languages and empire continues even to the present. It dominates political discussion in the USA about the role of English and, say, Spanish. Arguments for making English the official language are often voiced in terms cosmos, “us” versus “them”: The absolutely certain way to bring this nation to ruin, or preventing all possibility of its continuing to be a nation at all would be to permit it to become a tangle of squabbling nationalities. We have but one flag. We must also learn one language and that language is English. President Theodore Roosevelt

28

Clines, D. J. A. The Theme of the Pentateuch (JSOT Sup 10). Sheffield, 1978, pp. 68–69.

Cognate Patterns in Ancient Hebrew Poetry: Tracing the Lineage of Psalm 110 Baruch A. Levine New York University

The investigation of cognates of Biblical Hebrew lexemes (henceforth BH) enables us to learn more about their register, and is basic to the comparative method in exegesis. Although it is accurate to say that we are seldom dependent on cognates for the essential meaning of BH lexemes, our understanding of BH diction is, nevertheless, enhanced by the information coming from other, ancient Semitic languages where usage is often more extensive and discrete. Cognates can validate the accepted meanings of elusive BH lexemes, and at times also correct them, or nuance them. Furthermore, investigating cognates can expose previously unrecognized roots in BH, itself. Over the years, I have engaged in cognate research with great interest, as have others. My most recent study appears in the Proceedings of the 51st Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale, and provides relevant bibliography (Levine 2008). Historical and cultural considerations The value and validity of utilizing cognates in biblical exegesis, still questioned in certain quarters, cannot be established through linguistic analysis alone. The linguistic process must be correlated with cultural and historical factors. When we adduce cognate evidence we are assuming that BH was being enriched by various forms of synchronic contact with other Semitic languages, and through the retention of earlier components of language and culture persisting in the environment. Given the history of the Levant, it is probable, on this basis, that the biblical authors and the scribes whose work survives in ancient Hebrew epigraphy, knew West-Semitic languages such as Phoenician, and later, Punic. Undoubtedly, they also knew the interior languages—Moabite, Ammonite and Edomite, and probably some form of early Arabic. As the 1st millennium progressed, knowledge of Aramaic, in various phases, spread among Israelite authors, peaking during the Persian period. We are told that in 701 B. C. E., at the time of Sennacherib’s blockade of Jerusalem, Judean officials already understood

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Mesopotamia and the Bible

Aramaic, although the populace did not, as yet (see 2 Kings 18:26 // Isa 36:11). The investigation of Ugaritic and of other, earlier WS cognates attests to the retention, or survival of linguistic and literary patterns from earlier periods of southern Canaanite history, that continued to inform the written, as well as the oral culture; leaving footprints in BH diction, especially in BH poetry. A perusal of Ras Shamra Parallels, volume I, edited by Loren Fisher (1972), leaves little room for doubt that much of the WS repertoire, represented most prominently by the Ugaritic corpus of the Late Bronze Age, was known to Israelite authors in one form or another. In that volume, Anton Schoors deals with literary phrases and Mitchell Dahood reviews parallel pairs, common to BH and Ugaritic, as then known. Even the section on flora, fauna, and minerals by Jack M. Sasson reveals similar comparisons. Notwithstanding a degree of methodological “looseness” evident in these studies, their cumulative impact is impressive. The situation with respect to Akkadian, in its various phases and periods, is more complex. In their recent book, Cuneiform in Canaan (2006:3– 25), Horowitz and Oshima (with Seth Sanders editing three alphabetic cuneiform finds) survey the extent of cuneiform evidence actually found in Canaan, from the Old Babylonian/Middle Bronze Age, down through the Late Bronze Age, to the Neo-Assyrian, Neo-Babylonian and Hellenistic periods. They provide a breakdown by genre (Table 1, p. 5), and place the cuneiform documents in historical perspective before presenting updated editions of them. Among the finds in ancient Israel are three lexical texts from the Late Bronze Age that exhibit Canaanite columns (Aphek 1, 3; Ashqelon 1), indicating that translation, as between Akkadian and Canaanite, was being undertaken. Then, there are two Ugaritic-type abecedaries, rare outside the Kingdom of Ugarit, one found at Beth Shemesh and the other at Taanach, that date from the same general period. A brief alphabetic-cuneiform inscription on a knife blade found near Nahal Tabor is of a type found only in the southern Levant, showing adaptation from the canonical type at Ugarit. Noting that so many of the Amarna letters were actually sent from Canaan to Egypt, Horowitz and Oshima explain that following the close of the Late Bronze Age, the scribal culture in Canaan shifted from cuneiform to alphabetic writing in dialects of the Canaanite language group. Not until the Neo-Assyrian period do we again encounter cuneiform in Canaan, as far as we know. What we find at those later periods are not texts representative of Canaanite culture, as was the case in the Late

B. A. Levine, Cognate Patterns in Ancient Hebrew Poetry…

1149

Bronze Age, but Akkadian writings directly connected to the Assyrian and later Neo-Babylonian presence in Canaan. It turns out, therefore, that evidence of the Akkadian element in Canaanite culture, itself, antedates the BH creativity that commenced in Iron Age I. This leaves open the question as to whether, or to what extent biblical authors and Hebrew scribes of the 1st Millennium knew Akkadian. In a study entitled “The Babylonians and Chaldeans,” W. G. Lambert (1973:179–195) devotes an entire section to “Babylonians and Hebrews,” in which he attempts to identify periods of confluence in Babylonian and “Hebrew” history. His historical breakdown generally accords with the documentary/linguistic evidence from Canaan, presented and discussed by Horowitz and Oshima, although at times, his logic is open to question. Consider the following statement by Lambert: “It was only with the rise of the Assyrian empire that Mesopotamian influence began to be felt again in Palestine, and this trend continued after the fall of the Assyrians with the rise of the NeoBabylonian empire. However, during these periods the Assyrians and Babylonians were the avowed enemies of the Hebrews, and this must have restricted the extent of cultural borrowing by the Hebrews” (Lambert 1973:194).

It is not necessarily the case that enmity restricts cultural borrowing, or sharing, where the degree of contact is sufficient to facilitate it. Throughout history, conquered peoples have appropriated cultural features from their conquerors, often as part of the very effort to accommodate the threat posed by these enemies. In BH we find the clear footprints of borrowing and of shared culture, even during those periods when Akkadian sources in Canaan would have been “imported,” so to speak, and we are consequently warranted in concluding that Akkadian and BH were “languages in contact.” This said, the most promising area of cognate inquiry at the present time is the investigation of WS cognates of BH. These are attested as early as the Ebla finds and Mari, and abundantly in cuneiform sources from the Late Bronze Age, such as Amarna glosses, syllabic Ugaritic and WS lexemes at Emar, all in addition to the Ugaritic corpus in alphabetic cuneiform. Lambert calls attention to the question of Israelite origins as a factor in tracing language contact and cultural transmission. This question is being widely debated, hampered by an unfortunate dearth of controllable evidence, and we await further clarification. None of the proposed scenarios would, however, nullify the significance of cognates, attested both in pre-Israelite and in contemporary Semitic languages, for our un-

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derstanding of BH. The writers of ancient Israel were part of what has been called a “cultural continuum.” Cognate patterns It is the purpose here to build on previous work, moving beyond individual lexemes to explore “cognate patterns.” By this is meant the cumulative effect of the cognates of key words appearing in a single, biblical text on our understanding of that text, as a whole. We proceed on the premise that Biblical writers had choices, or alternatives with respect to vocabulary and diction. There was usually more than one way of expressing the same thought, of describing the same scene, or of narrating the same event, so that we may be able to trace the literary lineage of an entire text by examining the cognates of its formative vocabulary. In a lecture some years ago, before the Biblical Colloquium, George Mendenhall suggested that going beyond individual lexemes enables us to advance source analysis by differentiating discrete strata within a single biblical text. A case in point is 1 Kings 5, to be discussed further on. With wellsprings of linguistic knowledge available to them, what do the choices made by biblical authors signify? Does tracing cognate patterns add significantly to our understanding of biblical texts? There has been interest in identifying regional dialects in Biblical Hebrew, as between northern and Judean, although definitive conclusions elude us. In sum instances, therefore, choice may have been dialectal. An indisputable variable is genre, so that, as an example, more Ugaritic cognates are concentrated in poetic texts than in biblical narrative. This was already recognized by the contributors to Ras Shamra Parallels I. The most slippery factor is “semantic field,” or “semantic range.” Cognates often express differing, yet related notions in different languages, just as there is variance even within the same language. Proposed cognates are not always semantically equivalent, but this does not invalidate them if they are within the semantic range, and are identifiable phonetically. In this connection, mention should be made of Leonid Kogan’s recent study, “Lexical Evidence and the Genealogical Position of Ugaritic” (2006). This is the first of several anticipated investigations by Kogan, whose exhaustive coverage of the Semitic languages in the course of surveying Ugaritic vocabulary has already been of great assistance. His treatment of the root m-¶-´ ‘to strike, crush, kill’ will figure in the forthcoming discussion. For Kogan, semantic equivalence is significant in determining the genealogy of Ugaritic. The problem being addressed here is the character of BH, especially Hebrew

B. A. Levine, Cognate Patterns in Ancient Hebrew Poetry…

1151

prosody, and in our scheme of things, there can be greater tolerance for semantic variance. Psalm 110, for reasons soon to become evident, might well serve as a paradigm for studying cognate patterns. Psalm 110: a paradigm of cognate patterns Psalm 110 is a royal ballad in the Zion tradition, expressive of the heroic, warrior-God theme. Yahweh addresses an unnamed Judean king, charging him to do battle against his enemies, assuring him of divine assistance in battle, and pledging to guarantee him a lasting dynasty. This Psalm recalls the charge of the god Aššur to Assyrian kings to conquer by the authority of their ¶a¢¢u ‘scepter,’ a symbol of royal power, known in the Hebrew of Psalm 110 as ma¢¢ēh. Following is the transcribed Hebrew text of Psalm 110, with proposed translation and brief annotation. Note that the Masoretic Text is problematic at one point, and that the meaning of the Psalm requires clarification at several intervals. Hebrew Text of Psalm 110 in Transcription (as emended): 1) lĕdāwid mizmôr: nĕ!um YHWH la!ădōnî: šēb liymînî "ad-!āšît !ōybêkā hădōm lĕraglêkā. 2) ma¢¢ēh "uzzĕkā yišlaµ YHWH mi´´iyyôn. rĕdēh bĕqereb !ōybêkā. 3) "ammĕkā nĕdābōt bĕyôm µêlekā. bĕhadrê qodeš mēreµem mišµār; lĕkā ¢al yaldūtekā. 4) nišba" YHWH wĕlō! yinnāµēm: !attāh kōhēn lĕ"ôlām, "al-dibrātî malkî-´edeq 5) !ădōnâi "al-yĕmînkā, māµa´ bĕyôm !appô melākîm 6) yādîn baggôyîm mālē! gĕwiyyôt; māµa´ rō!š "al-!ere´ rabbāh. 7) manµîl badderek yĕšîtēhû, "al-kēn yārîm rō!š (Masoretic: minnaµal badderek yišteh). Proposed translation: 1) A Psalm of David: Speech of Yahweh to My Lord: Sit (enthroned) at my right arm, As I put down your enemies as a stool at your feet. 2) Yahweh will thrust forth your mighty scepter from Zion. Advance into the midst of your enemies! 3) Your militias will be dedicated on the day of your battle. In Temple visions, from early in the womb, The dew of your youth was given to you. 4) Yahweh has sworn and will not renege: “You are a priest forever; by my word; my rightful king!” 5) The LORD is at your right arm. On the day of his wrath he crushes kings.

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6) He pronounces judgement against the nations, With corpses aplenty, he crushes heads over vast areas. 7) He designates him (= the king) victor in the mission. (Masoretic: ‘On the way, he drinks from a stream.’) Therefore, he (= the king) holds his head high.

Problems in the text of Psalm 110 Before discussing key words and their cognates, it would be best to dispose of several problems of interpretation in this Psalm. The most glaring anomaly is to be found in the concluding verse 7, according to the Masoretic reading. The notion that Yahweh drinks water from a stream to revive himself has always seemed odd, and it is possible that the original sense of this verse escaped the Masoretes. Mitchell Dahood (1970: 119– 120), although some of his emendations are extreme, was on the right track in making sense of this verse. He saw in this hemistich a form of the verb šāt (radical š-y-t) ‘to place,’ which occurs earlier in verse 1 (see discussion, below), as well as a form of the verb nāµal ‘to receive as a grant, inherit,’ homographic with the noun naµal ‘stream.’ It is possible to elicit a different sense from this hemistich without even altering the consonantal text. If instead of minnaµal ‘from a stream’ we read a Hiph"il participle, manµîl (written defectively) ‘victor’ (literally: ‘one who grants, empowers’) and instead of yišteh ‘he drinks,’ we read yešîtēhû (written defectively) ‘he designates him,’ we end up with: ‘He designates him victor in the mission.’ The subject of the verb šāt is Yahweh; the object is the king, who is the victor. One is required to understand further that Hebrew derek ‘road, journey,’ can on rare occasions mean ‘mission, the purpose of a journey’ (cf. 1 Sam 21:6). Read in this way, Psalm 110 would exhibit an inclusio: in verse 1 we read that Yahweh places the king’s enemies at his feet, and in verse 7, he designates the king as victor, all conveyed by the verb šāt. Several expressions, occurring in verse 3, also require comment, because they are exceptional in Biblical Hebrew diction, though intelligible in themselves. The precise construction "ammĕkā nĕdābōt ‘Your militias will be dedicated’ is unique in the Hebrew Bible, but its theme evokes the dedicated voluntarism of the Israelite militias, of which we read in Jud 5:2: behitnaddēb "ām ‘when the forces dedicate themselves’ (cf. Jud 5:9). The unique form mišµār is derived from šaµar ‘dawn,’ hence: ‘from early.’ The construction ¢al yaldūt ‘the dew of youth’ is unique to this Psalm, but must surely connote growth, vigor, and blessing (cf. Gen 27:28, Isa 26:19, Hos 14:6).

B. A. Levine, Cognate Patterns in Ancient Hebrew Poetry…

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Verse 4 refers to the addressed king as kōhēn ‘priest,’ and there is a tradition which takes malkî-´edeq to be the name of the Canaanite priestking of Salem, mentioned in Genesis 14:18 as having greeted Abram in the name of El Elyon. Although such resonance is tempting, and has generated an inner-biblical association between the patriarch, Abraham, and Jerusalem, it is not sustainable contextually. Nor did the Masoretes think so, because they hyphenated the appellation in Psalm 110, but in Genesis 14:18, where it is, in fact, the name of a king, there is no hyphen. (On the nuanced meaning of ´edeq in Psalm 110, see further.) Key words and their cognates Now to the key words which convey the meaning of this Psalm, and their cognates. There are three primary key words, as follows. 1) The verb šāt (radical š-y-t) ‘to put, place,’ and related meanings. In verse 1: "ad !āšît !ōybêkā hădōm lĕraglêkā ‘As I put down your enemies as a stool at your feet.’ Cf. Ps 8:7: kol šattāh taµat raglâw ‘Everything you placed under his feet.’ I assume that the Psalmist opted for the verb šāt in place of śām (radical ś-w-m) ‘to put, place,’ which is far more frequent in BH. Both verbs occur in poetry as well as in prose, but the poetic register dominates in the case of šāt, the bulk of whose attestations are concentrated in the Psalms, as a matter of fact. In several instances, the Psalmist repeats the verb šāt instead of varying usage (thus, Psalms 31, 73 [3 times], 83, 88), supporting the conclusion that it was a favored verb of choice. This is corroborated by the fact that in all of Psalms, there are only two instances where the author utilized both verbs in the same text. In almost all cases, where there is one there is not the other. In Ps 104:3 we have haśśām "ābîm rĕkûbô ‘He uses dense clouds as his chariot,’ and in vs. 20 tāšet µōšek wiyhî lâilāh ‘You instill darkness and it is night-time.’ Outside of Psalms, in Jer 13:16, we have direct parallelism: wĕśāmāh lĕ´almāwet // wĕšît [Qere] la"ărāpel ‘He turns it into blackness // making it into dark clouds.’ This is the only case outside of Psalms where both verbs occur in the same poetic text. Clearly, we have a fixed, parallel pair expressing a proverbial cosmic image. The case of Psalm 18, where we also find both šāt and śām, is more complex. In verse 12 we find yāšet µōšek sitrô ‘He installed darkness as his cover,’ once again expressing the cosmic image, whereas verse 44 has: tĕśîmēnî lerō!š gôyîm ‘You have placed me at the head of nations.’ (Note the variant tišmĕrēnî ‘You preserve me’ in the duplicate, 2 Sam 22:44). In this case, we see that the author had

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special recourse to the known image when speaking of God’s obscure abode in heaven, whereas that author’s usual verb was śām. There would be nothing more expected than for a poet to vary usage, and the fact that such variance is so rare is telling. After all, the two verbs exhibit idiomatic overlaps. (a) śām lēb ‘to be mindful’ (Exod 9:21, Isa 57:1, Jer 12:11, Ezek 44:5, Job 1:8, 2:3), and šāt lēb (Exod 7:23, 1 Sam 4:20, Jer 31:21, Ps 48:14, Prov 22:17, 24:32, 27:23). (b) śām "ayin ‘to give one’s attention to’ (Jer 24:6) and šāt "ayin (Ps 17:11). (c) śām maµăseh ‘to provide shelter’ (Isa 28:15), and šāt maµăseh (Ps 73:28). The authoritative sense of ‘appointing, designating’ likewise attaches to both verbs, in poetry and in prose (cf. 2 Sam 17:25, Exod 21:22, 33:4). To pursue the significance of the exclusive choices observable in biblical poetry, in this case between śām and šāt, invites a review of the distribution of the cognates of both verbs in the Semitic languages. It is significant that neither radical ś-w-m nor š-y-t, attests a cognate in Akkadian. The notion that Akkadian šêtu is a cognate of the WS root š-y-t is unwarranted, in my view (pace AHw. 1221 s. v. šêtu II). As illustrated by CAD (Š2 341–343 s. v. šêtu) this verb is most often intransitive in Akkadian, and when transitive means ‘to leave behind.’ It is attested primarily in Old Akkadian. The more frequent derivative šittu ‘balance, remainder, inheritance’ (CAD Š3 136–140 s. v. šittu A) continues through NB, but in semantic terms, it is a stretch to connect its connotations with BH and WS š-y-t. DUL (848–851) seems to have blended the various meanings of Ugaritic št, perhaps to accommodate the alleged Akkadian cognate, by including the translation ‘to leave (in a condition).’ I have found no citation in which the verb št in Ugaritic means ‘to leave behind’—as a remainder. Also note that Huehnergard (1987:181) cites the syllabic Ugaritic. polyglot vocabulary, where the Akkadian column has šakānu for WS ŠYT. The available inner-biblical and cognate data may be summarized as follows: a) the root ś-w-m is attested in Hebrew, Phoenician-Punic, and Aramaic, but not in Ugaritic. (See Krahmalkov 2000:483–484, for Phoenician-Punic, and DNWSI 1126 for Sam’al and Aramaic š-w-m.) b) The root š-y-t is attested in Hebrew, Phoenician-Punic and in Ugaritic, but not in Aramaic. The register of št is authority, exercised by deities and kings, at times with permanent effects. It exhibits cosmic connotations, but at the same time expresses the imposition of law. Cognates of BH šāt likewise occur in the context of war. Note in particular the statement in the Phoenician Azitwadda inscription regarding the king’s enemies: w!nk štnm

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tµt p"my ‘I set them under my feet’ (KAI 26 A I 16/17). This closely parallels usage in our Psalm (and cf. Isa 22:7, Ps 3:7). It would appear that the poet of Psalm 110 chose a BH verb, with WS cognates, attested in myth and epic, as well as in law and everyday life, and which occurs in Phoencian royal inscriptions. It is a verb of choice in many Psalms, and in biblical epic, generally. Actually, usage of št in Ugaritic is broader than is the case with BH šāt, due to the fact that Ugaritic had no other verb that simply means ‘to put, place.’ The fact that the two Hebrew verbs, šāt and śām, occur so rarely in the same text, in the face of their synonymity, and their idiomatic overlaps, suggests that the reason for the author’s choice was literary and/or dialectal. 2) The verb rādāh (radical r-d-h) ‘to advance, drive off, pursue; dominate, rule.’ In verse 2: rĕdēh bĕqereb !ōybêkā ‘Advance into the midst of your enemies.’ This translation reflects a different understanding of BH rādāh, to be justified in due course as we deal with the comparative evidence from Akkadian. BH rādāh is an alternative to the more common verb māšal ‘to rule.’ Contrast 1 Kings 5:1 with 1 Kings 5:4. a) (1 Kings 5:1) ‘Then Solomon was exercising rule over (hāyāh môšēl b-) all of the kingdoms, from the River (= Euphrates), up to the Egyptian border.’ b) (1 Kings 5:4) ‘For he (= Solomon) rules over (rōdeh b-) over the entire Cis-Euphrates, from Tiphsah up to Gaza.’

The primary chronicle begins in verse 2, and following; verse 1 was attached as an introduction. The different choice of verb points to different sources, which, in turn, suggests that the two verbs exhibit different registers. This turns out to be the case. BH māšal is consistently political (as is BH mālak ‘to rule, govern’), whereas BH rādāh may refer to battle as well as governance (Ps 72:8). More often than not, this verb pertains to treatment of workers and slaves, and the organization of fighting forces, etc. Thus, in the very same record, in Kings 5:30 // 1 Kings 9:23, we read of Solomon’s garrison commanders as: ‘The ones in charge of the conscripts (hārōdîm bā"ām) who were performing the assigned tasks’ (cf. Lev 25:43, 52, Ezek 34:4, 2 Chron 8:10). Both in poetry and in prose, the action conveyed by this verb may be directed against enemy nations who oppress Israel (Lev 26:17, Num 24:19, Isa 14:2, 6, Ezek 39:16, Lament 1:13, Ps 72:8, Neh 9:28). Finally, the verb rādāh is employed in the first chapter of Genesis to define human stewardship over creation: wĕyirdû bidgat hayyām ‘And let them rule over the fish of the sea,’ etc. (Gen

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1:26, 28). Note that the syntax in most cases is rādāh + prepositional beth, connoting opposition. Based on available data, WS exhibits no clear cognates of Hebrew rādāh. The only traces are to be found in a theophoric, personal name at Ebla (ir-da DN ‘DN has prevailed (?)’) and in the Ugaritic component of a DN rdn, with the characterizing affix -ānu, hence ‘ruler’ (apud DUL 732 s. v. r-d-y). More evidence may well verify a WS cognate. In Akkadian, on the other hand, there is extensive evidence for the cognate verb redû (CAD R 226–251 s. v. redû A), expressing the basic connotation ‘to drive, pursue, follow,’ hence ‘to control, oversee,’ and note derivative forms. The translation ‘advance’ in Psalm 110 was, in fact, suggested by Akkadian usage, in which the theme of motion is endemic to the verb redû A, making it possible to explain additional BH passages more reasonably. As an example, it is a giveaway: that both Hebrew rādāh and Akkadian redû can mean ‘to flow, let flow’—as said of a liquid. In Akkadian, we have the phrase redû ša mê ‘the flowing of water’ in a lexical series, and in documents we find: ‘from the mouth, ears and nose, blood was flowing’ (ir-re-di damu—see CAD R 239, meaning 7). Cf. Jud 14:9, speaking of honey: ‘Then he let it flow (wayyirdēhû) into his palms.’ Most probably, Lament 1:18 is to be read in a similar way: ‘From on high he (= God) dispatched fire into my bones, and let it flow’ (wayyirdennāh). Also expressing motion is usage of rādāh in BH to describe the deployment of troops in battle (Isa 22:7, Ps 3:7), and similarly, by Akkadian redû (CAD R 230 s. v. meaning 3′). In Jer 5:31 we find the meaning ‘to follow’ which is rare in BH, but more frequent in Akkadian. Thus: ‘The prophets spoke falsely, and the priests followed along with them’ (yirdû "al yĕdêhem). A comparison of blessing and its reverse further illustrates the theme of pursuit: a) The blessing (Isa 14:2): ‘They shall become captors to their captors, and shall rout their taskmasters’ (wĕrādû bĕnōgśêhem). b) The curse (Lev 26:17): ‘You shall be repulsed by your enemies, and your foes shall rout you (wĕrādû bākem śōn!êkem). You shall flee though none pursues you’ (wĕ!ên rōdēp !etkem).

In b), note that rādāh is synonymous with rādap, the usual BH verb meaning ‘to pursue.’ Cf. the Akkadian cognate, radāpu ‘to pursue’ (CAD R 59 s. v. radāpu), attested only from NA and NB on, and a likely WS root. (In CAD, note mention of an Aramaic cognate, and the curious omission of reference to the BH cognate!)

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An additional passage where BH rādāh is possibly clarified by usage of the Akkadian cognate, redû is Num 24:19, a verse in the last of the Balaam orations. The Masoretic text reads: (orthographic) wyrd my"qb, (vocalized): wĕyērd miyya"ăqōb. It has often been suggested to divide the words differently so as to read wĕyirdēm ya"ăqōb, yielding the sense ‘And Jacob shall rout them, and deport survivors from them.’ It is significant that BH rādāh generated a geminate form, rādad, bearing similar connotations. It is uncertain whether Akkadian radādu (CAD R 58–59) represents a comparable geminate realization of redû, although its meanings surely suggest this, for Akkadian radādu means ‘to pursue.’ Although BH rādad means ‘to subjugate’—in battle in Ps 144:3, in Isa 45:1, lārōd lĕpānâw gôyîm is best rendered: ‘to disperse nations before him’ (correcting the Masoretic pointing: lĕrad). And then we have 1 Kings 6: 32 ‘The double doors were of olive wood, and on them he carved reliefs of cherubim palms, and calyxes. He overlaid the cherubim (wayyāred "al hakkĕrûbîm) and the palms with gold.’ It is curious that Hebrew rādîd ‘garment, shawl’ (Isa 3:23, Song of Songs 5:7) is paralleled by Akkadian raddidu ‘garment’ (CAD R 60), both conveying the sense of being covered from on top. In summary, investigation of the cognates of BH rādāh indicates that the biblical author of Psalm 110 used this verb to mean what it distinctly means in Akkadian. In immediate context, our translation: ‘Advance into the midst of your enemies!’ is arguably more apt than NJPS: ‘Hold sway over your enemies,’ or ‘Rule in the midst of your foes’ of NEB. It is the theme of motion, so basic in Akkadian, than allows for this interpretation. 3) The verb māµa´ (radical m-µ-´) ‘to strike, crush; to kill.’ a) In Verse 5: māµa´ bĕyôm !appô mĕlākîm ‘On the day of his wrath he crushes kings.’ b) In verse 6: māµa´ rō!š "al !ere´ rabbāh ‘He crushes heads over vast territory.’ This is perhaps the most complex, yet most enlightening of the key words in Psalm 110. As has been noted by any number of scholars, BH māµa´ occurs only in poetic texts, whereas the Hiph’il hikkāh ‘to strike’ (from the root n-k-h), which may be regarded as an alternative to māµa´ in BH, is not genre specific. Compare Ps 110: 5, just cited, with Ps 136:17: lĕmakkeh mĕlākîm gĕdōlîm ‘To the one (= God) who strikes great kings.’ The two verbs, māµa´ and hikkāh, with only one exception, never appear together in the same text. That exception is Isa 30:26, a late biblical text, where we find the redundant combination: maµa´ makkātô ‘the impact of his blow.’ Once again we note that where there is one of the verbs, there

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is not the other, suggesting that these are verbs of intentional choice. The form ymµ´ is attested in ancient Hebrew epigraphy, in the Horvat "Uza bowl inscription (Davies 2004:15 s. v. 37.007, and Beit Aryeh 1993:64– 65). This is one of two, similar inscriptions from that Negeb site, dating to the mid-to-late 7th century B. C. E., both of which are fragmentary and difficult to comprehend. The one in which the form ymµ´ appears exhibits a literary quality, and we can possibly read ymt ‘he will die,’ and a form of the root q-b-r ‘to bury.’ It would be preferable to summarize the distribution of the root m-¶-´ in the Semitic languages in advance of the discussion to follow. Cognates of BH māµa´ occur in Ugaritic, including syllabic Ugaritic, in an EA gloss, in a lexical text from Ebla (DUL 540–542), and widely in the Akkadian of most regions. It bears mentioning that Ugaritic attests an infrequent root m-¶-š ‘to crush,’ which is probably only an alloform of m-¶-´ (DUL 543). If we accept Aramaic m-µ-! ‘to pound, strike’ as a cognate, then it is also attested in Old Aramaic and Official Aramaic (DNWSI 610–611). It is realized in Old South Arabic (Sabaean) as m-¶-¥ (Biella 1982:271–272), connoting quarrying, the crushing of rock. Only Phoenician and Punic appear to lack a cognate. As Kogan explains (2006:446, 454–455), the semantic progression expressed by the root m-¶-´ goes from ‘strike,’ and similar connotations, to ‘kill.’ In BH this also parallels the predications of hikkāh ‘strike’ > ‘kill.’ Sometimes blows and wounds are fatal, sometimes they are not; sometimes there is intent to kill, sometimes only to overpower, or disable. The root m-¶-´ is “telic;” it anticipates the outcome of being struck or beaten, which is often death. In fact, in no Semitic language does the root m-¶-´ necessarily mean ‘to kill’ in the same way as do Hebrew hārag, rā´aµ, qā¢al (also Aramaic) and hēmît. Akkadian dâku has as its primary meanings ‘to kill, slay,’ but it, too, can connote related acts, such as ‘to defeat’ (CAD D 35–36). Akkadian attests the much less frequent verb, ¶atû A ‘to smite’ (CAD Ú 151–152), whose usage somewhat parallels that of ma¶ā´u. In light of the comparative situation, I conclude that since Ugaritic, unlike BH or Akkadian, lacked verbs that specifically connote killing, the Ugaritic verb m¶´ was overloaded, and became the key verb of choice to mean ‘kill.’ As Kogan notes, in EA 245:14 ma-a¶-´ú-ú is listed as a WS gloss of Akkadian da-ku-šu ‘they killed him,’ which only proves that WS m¶´ is the verb of choice to mean to kill, not that always means ‘to kill.’ Kogan lists some contextual examples of the meaning ‘to kill’ in Ugaritic which are indisputable, in context, but other occurrences of Ugaritic m¶´

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express the meaning ‘to wound, strike,’ and not specifically ‘to kill.’ A case in point is KTU 1.6 V 2–3, speaking of Ba"lu: rbm . ym¶´ . b ktp dkym . ym¶´ . b ´md ´ġrm . y m¶´ (= ym¶´) . l ar´ ‘The great ones he struck with a scimitar, Those who were like Yamm he struck with a mace; The small ones he struck to the ground.’

It is informative that the Ugaritic GT form, ymt¶´ means ‘to fight, do battle,’ and is parallel with ¶´b ‘to fight’ (DUL 411). Thus, KTU 1.3 II 29–30: "d . tšb" . tmt¶´ . b bt t¶t´b . bn . ¬lµnm ‘She does battle to satiety in the house, She fights between the tables.’

Also note in Ugaritic the derivatives, m¶´ ‘beater, weaver,’ and m¶´ ‘machete.’ In sum, the verb m¶´ in Ugaritic describes a violent, physical act, which often results in death. It is agreed, however, that the one, uncertain attestation of hrg in Ugaritic hardly indicates that it was the verb of choice when the meaning is ‘to kill’ (see KTU 1.13.5; Kogan 2006:446). In our view, overall usage of m¶´ in Ugaritic does not breach semantic equivalence with BH, or with Akkadian, for that matter. In fact, Akkadian attests forms and derivatives of the verb ma¶ā´u that correlate with the range of meanings in Ugaritic, e. g. ‘to weave (= ‘to beat, press down’), to fight.’ We are speaking of semantic field, or range, with precise meaning determined by usage and context. Just as Ugaritic m¶´ does not always specifically mean ‘to kill,’ so may BH māµa´, indeed, bear the functional meaning ‘to kill.’ As an example, cf. Ps 18:38–39 // 2 Sam 22:39: I pursued my enemies and overtook them. I did not turn back before terminating them ("ad kallôtām). I struck them (wā!emµā´ēm) so that they could not stand up. They lay fallen at my feet.

In this instance, there is parallelism of māµa´ // killāh ‘to terminate,’ and further on in both versions of the same Psalm (verse 41), we find parallelism of māµa´ // Hiph’il hi´mît ‘to destroy.’ It is worthy of note that both parallelisms are also attested in Ugaritic poetry (DUL 442 s. v. k-l-y D-stem; 786–787 s. v. ´-m-t). So, the functional connotation of māµa´ in

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the above biblical passage is ‘to kill,’ but this meaning is determined by immediate context. Now, to the Akkadian evidence on ma¶ā´u, which is extensive. Kogan correctly notes that most attestations cited in CAD for ma¶ā´u ‘to kill’ are actually from EA texts, which suggests to him that the meaning ‘to kill’ is western, or local, and not semantically equivalent to usage in Akkadian generally, or in BH. The fact is that Akkadian writings from various regions and periods also attest the meaning ‘to kill.’ Thus, CAD R 75 cites a NB text, ABL 1339:7: mamma mamma la i-ma¶-¶a´ ‘nobody will kill another man.’ Also note in an OB extispicy (YOS 10 46 iv 15): nakrum … būlka i--¶a´ ‘the enemy will slay your cattle.’ Furthermore, the sense ‘to kill’ in Akkadian is very much in evidence in the derived stems of ma¶ā´u (see CAD M1 84 s. v. meaning 11b). It is of interest that only in Akkadian and in BH are parts of the human body the direct objects of the root m-¶-´. In BH these parts are rō!š ‘head’ (as in Psalm 110; also qodqod ‘crown head,’ by emendation in Num 24:17 [qarqar > qodqod]), motnaim ‘midriff ’ (Deut 33:11), µălā´aim ‘midriff, thighs’ by emendation in Num 24:8 (wĕµi´´āw > wĕµălā´āw); pē!āh ‘sideburn’; figuratively: ‘corner of a field, la marche’ (Num 24:17), and raqqāh ‘temple’ (Jud 5:26). Jud 5:26 yields additional information of value. Synonymous with the verb māµa´ and occurring in the same verse, are hālam ‘to pound,’ māµaq ‘to smash,’ and µālap ‘to pierce.’ Ugaritic attests the root h-l-m, which closely parallels m-µ-´ in connotation and usage (DUL 339), and like māµa´ in BH and ma¶ā´u in Akkaian, also takes parts of the body as direct object. In Akkadian we have many parts of the body as direct objects of ma¶ā´u, literally and figuratively. Included are: panū and panātu ‘face,’ qaqqadu ‘crown, head,’ mu¶¶u ‘head,’ šapru ‘thigh’ (CAD M1 71–81 s. v. ma¶ā´u 4). In summary, the syndrome ‘strike’ > ‘kill’ is ubiquitous in the Semitic languages that attest the root m-¶-´. BH usage of māµa´ lies within the semantic range of this root, and mirrors its usage in both Ugaritic and Akkadian. Kogan is correct in calling attention to variances in application, but this is normal for cognates. The fact that parts of the body are the direct object in both BH and Akkadian suggests an unusual degree of at least functional equivalence between the two languages. We learn from the above review that the author of Psalm 110 twice opted for the verb māµa´ to convey a dramatic image of divine might and victory in battle, showing how graphic the verb māµa´ is; it conveys the violence of attack.

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4) Further words of interest in Psalm 110. It is interesting to find a Ugaritic cognate of BH hădōm ‘footstool’ (DUL 335), a term of uncertain origin. Similarly, the combination bĕhadrê qodeš (elsewhere: bĕhadrat qodeš as in Ps 29:2, 96:9, 1 Chron 16:29), is usually taken to mean ‘in the majesty/brilliance of the sanctuary.’ The basis for our translation: “in Temple visions” is the likely, but uncertain Ugaritic cognate, hdrt, which is parallel with µlm ‘dream’ in KTU 1. 14 III 50– 51, in the Keret Epic: krt . y¶¢ . w µlm "bd . il . w hdrt ‘Keret awakened, and it was a dream; The servant of Ilu and it was a vision.’

The combination: yādîn + beth of opposition (‘He pronounces judgment against’) is unique in BH, but well attested in Akkadian (CAD D 102–103 s. v. dânu 3′). The title malkî-´edeq ‘my rightful king’ resonates with a nuance of the root ´-d-q in Ugaritic and Aramaic (Levine 1974: 135–137). Finally, the unique form mišµār most immediately recalls Ugaritic and syllabic-WS šµr (DUL 812–813), although other cognates are also attested. Conclusion Reading Psalm 110 against the background of the Semitic cognates of its key words not only pins down the meanings of such words more precisely, but also shows the richness of ancient Hebrew prosody. Here we have a poet who opts for the verb šāt over śām so as to dramatically express divine authority, thereby resonating with Phoenician royal inscriptions. He uses the verb rādāh in an extraordinary way, to convey the fierce movement of an attack. Until we have more evidence regarding the presence of a root r-d-y (3rd weak) in WS, evidence that I predict will emerge, we must rely on the extensive evidence relevant to the Akkadian cognate, redû. In the present state of knowledge, usage of rādāh in Psalm 110 seems to break the WS mold, because in all other cases, our attention turns westward, where we find everything that we need, although we have much more! This is certainly true of the ubiquitous root m-¶-´, which is prominent in Ugaritic, and is attested in syllabic WS, and also widely distributed in Akkadian. In a word, we have learned a good deal about the register of the key words in Psalm 110 by investigating their cognate pattern. To test this method further, one has only to trace the

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distribution of the connotation ‘to sit enthroned’ for the BH verb, yāšab, and its many cognates in the Semitic languages. References Beit Arieh 1993 Dahood 1970 Dahood 1972 Davies 2004 Fischer 1972 Horowitz–Oshima 2006

Huehnergard 1987 Kogan 2006 Krahmalkov 2000 Lambert 1973

Levine 1974 Levine 2008

Sasson 1972 Schoors 1972

Beit Arieh, I. The Horvat "Uzza Bowel Inscription. TelAviv 20:64–65. Dahood, M. Psalms III (AB). Garden City. Dahood, M. Ugaritic Parallel Pairs. Fischer, L. (ed.). Ras Shamra Parallels. I. Roma. Pp. 71–382. Davies, G. Ancient Hebrew Inscriptions. Vol. 2. Corpus and Concordance. Cambridge. Fisher, L. (ed.). Ras Shamra Parallels. I. Roma. Horowitz, W.; Oshima, T. Cuneiform in Canaan. Cuneiform Sources from the Land of Israel in Ancient Times. Jerusalem. Huehnergard, J. Ugaritic Vocabulary in Syllabic Transrcription (HSS 32). Atlanta. Kogan, L. Lexical Evidence and the Genealogical Position of Ugaritic (I). B&B 3:429–488. Krahmalkov, Ch. R. Phoenician-Punic Dictionary. Leuven. Lambert, W. G. The Babylonians and Chaldeans. Wiseman, D. J. (ed.). Peoples of the Old Testament. Oxford. Pp. 179–195. Levine, B. A. In the Presence of the Lord. Leiden. Levine, B. A. The CAD and Biblical Hebrew Lexicography. Biggs, R. D. et al. (eds.). Proceedings of the 51st Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale. Chicago. Pp. 111–117. Sasson, J. M. Flora, Fauna and Minerals. Fischer, L. (ed.). Ras Shamra Parallels. I. Roma. Pp. 383–452. Schoors, A. Literary Phrases. Fischer, L. (ed.). Ras Shamra Parallels. I. Roma. Pp. 1–70.

Where Angels Fearlessly Tread Mari Insights on Genesis 19

Jack M. Sasson Vanderbilt University

Facts may be true, but they are not truths Sigrid Undset

Cities of wickedness There have been many novels, poems, and movies about Sodom and Gomorrah, two of five “cities of the plain” (Gen 13:12; 19:29) that God destroyed. Some of these contributions are very metaphoric, confirming Proust’s thesis that Sodom is part of our own realties. Most essays, however, exploit the more lurid details that are found about them in the Bible.1 The Bible itself has many allusions to these cities, mostly to cite them as example of deserved destruction;2 but it is Sodom that earns the fullest attentions, its sins so manifest as to seldom require explanation. Isaiah (1:9–10; 3:9) says that it was oppression and injustice. Jeremiah (23:14) accuses it of adultery, for him a metaphor for idolatry. Ezekiel indicts its pride and sloth (Ezek 16:49–50). The Book of Genesis has the fullest portrayal of Sodom, yet without a consistent point of view. In Gen 13, Sodom sits in a luxuriant plain, “like the garden of Yahveh or like the land of Egypt” (13:10), so a reasonable place for Lot to choose when separating from Abram. In Gen 14, its king is beholden to Abram for rescuing him from eastern invaders. In Gen 18, God shares with Abraham his intent to punish the town, “its outcry” being so great; but only in Gen 19 is there a thicker context for its sin.3

1 Fine discussions and decent bibliographies on these issues are gathered in Noort, E.; Tigchelaar, E. (eds.). Sodom’s Sin. Genesis 18–19 and Its Interpretations. Leiden, 2004. 2 Isa 1:9; 13:19; Jer 23:14; 49:18; Amos 4:11; Zeph 2:9; Matt 10:15; Rom 9:29; Jude 7. 3 In Hebrew lore, the events are set as a prequel to Ammonite and Moabite origins.

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Entering Sodom As is well known, God sends two angels to Sodom to test whether the outcry is justified (Gen 18:21–22). The two are heading toward the public square to overnight when Lot stops them at the city gate, urging them toward his house for food and shelter. While Lot attends to them, the entire population comes to his home, demanding, “Where are the men who came to you tonight? Bring them out to us ~ta h[dnw.” The last expression is widely translated as demanding sexual gratification, “unnatural lust” as Westermann calls it;4 and in the Jerusalem Bible we get the full frontal version, “so we can have intercourse with them.” Over the centuries, the debate about the intended crime has shifted from homosexuality (a desire for a person of the same sex), to rape (an abusive and violent act).5 Yet, the expected language in Biblical Hebrew for such violent acts should have been twn[l or +b ll[thl rather than ta [dy, which in Hebrew lore is about the sexual contact that a man has with a woman.6 In contrast, there are many innocent passages where men are said to “know others”: thus, when Jacob asks the shepherds of Haran (Gen 29:5) whether they know Laban son of Nahor (rwxn-!b !bl-ta ~t[dyh), he is not likely to be prying into their sexual habits.7 Perhaps it is for this reason that in the Targumim and rabbinic lore the abuse of hospitality is Sodom’s most blatant failure.8 4

Gen 12–36. Genesis 12–36: A Commentary. Minneapolis, 1985, p. 301. The JPS gives a softer rendering, “that we may be intimate with them.” 5 See Vandermersch, P. Sodomites, Gays, and Biblical Scholars: A Gathering Organized by Peter Damian. Noort; Tigchelaar (eds.). Sodom’s Sin, p. 149–151. When Josephus (Ant I/11, 3) and Philo (de Abrahamo 26, 134–136) blamed Sodom of perversion, they were likely polemicizing against their own social milieus. 6 Also instructive is Judg 19:24–25. When men of Gibeah described as idle (l[ylb-ynb) come inquiring after a Levite sheltering with an Ephraimite resident, the host offers them to “abuse” his “virgin” daughter and the Levite’s concubine (~twa wn[w). However, when either the host or the Levite (the text is ambiguous) brings out his concubine, the men are said to hb-wll[tyw htwa w[dyw, “they molested her sexually,” obviously a circumlocution for ta twn[l. Note, however, that at Judges 19:22 the Hebrew simply has the verb [dy without ta, an idiom that connotes sexuality only in contexts that are obvious. 7 He said to them, “Do you know Laban the son of Nahor?” And they said, “Yes, we do.” See also Exod 1:8, “A new king arose over Egypt who did not know Joseph”; Exod 5:2, “But Pharaoh said, ‘Who is the LORD that I should heed Him and let Israel go? I do not know the LORD, nor will I let Israel go’.” 8 See M. W. Towney’s entry “Sodom and Gomorrah,” pp. 720–721, in Jeffrey, D. L. (ed.). A Dictionary of Biblical Tradition in English Literature. Grand Rapids, 1992;

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While it would be useless to absolve Sodom of wickedness, nonetheless the exact nature of its offense is extrapolated mostly from Lot’s words and actions. We are told that when its citizens demand to know who the men at his place were, Lot comes out of his compound, locking the gate behind him. He addresses them as “brothers” when he, a gēr, was not a full citizen. Lot warns them against doing evil (w[rt yxa an-la). He then offers them his two daughters, “who have never known a man,” to treat as they pleased but to leave his guest alone. Their reaction is interesting: they do not wait for him to shove his daughters out so they can abuse them (as do the men of Gibeah in Judg 19); rather, they mock him for presuming to judge them and move to force themselves inside his home.9 It is at this point that the angels prove their mettle. They magically yank him back through the gate, strike the mob with night blindness, and transport him magically beyond the city walls.10 The remaining episodes, including Lot’s escape to Zoar, the destruction of Sodom, the petrifaction of his wife, and the incest of his daughters, are too well known to warrant more comments here. Still, we might ask: what really happened at Lot’s gate? Lot is what one might charitably label an “unreliable character,” at least because his words or deeds do not match either the point of view or the moral stance of the narrator. To begin with, his guests, angels who must certainly Florentino García Martínez: Sodom and Gomorrah in the Targumim, pp. 83–96 in Noort; Tigchelaar (eds.). Sodom’s Sin. Brief and cogent reviews of the issues raised in the Sodom and Gibeah incidents are in Martti Nissinen’s Homoeroticism in the Biblical World. A Historical Perspective. Minneapolis, 1998, pp. 45–52, and in Frederick E. Greenspahn. Homosexuality and the Bible. CCAR Journal: A Reform Jewish Quarterly (2002):39–40. For cuneiform evidence, see Jerrold S. Cooper. Buddies in Babylonia: Gilgamesh, Enkidu, and Mesopotamian Homosexuality in Tzvi Abusch (ed.). Riches Hidden in Secret Places: Ancient Near Eastern Studies in Memory of Thorkild Jacobsen. Winona Lake, 2002, pp. 73–85. Citing R. A. Wright’s 1989 Yale dissertation (Establishing Hospitality in the Old Testament: Testing the Tool of Linguistic Pragmatics), Victor Matthews raises the issue whether Lot and the people of Sodom simply misunderstood each other since they were acting from opposite ownership of citizenship; Hospitality and Hostility in Genesis 19 and Judges 19. Biblical Theology Bulletin 22 (1992):5–6. 9 The narrator dramatically stages v. 19. He has the people of Sodom first address Lot (“Stand back”), then ridicule him among each other (“This fellow came here as an alien, and now imagines he can rule”), before warning him (“we will treat you worse than them (or because of them)”). 10 See Stol, M. Blindness and Night-blindness in Akkadian. JNES 45 (1986): 295–299 and Markham, J. Geller’s review of Pablo Herrero, La thérapeutique mésopotamienne. BiOr 43 (1986):741–743.

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know what they say, attributed sons among those that belong to Lot’s household (Gen 19:12).11 A couple of verses later (19:14) we discover that his daughters were not likely the virgins he claimed to be, since he converses with sons-in-law, who “were married to his daughters” (19:14).12 When he alerts these sons-in-law of the impending cataclysm, they instantly dismiss his word; perhaps they knew something about his trustworthiness. Nothing in previous or later Biblical narratives about Lot improves the frailty of his judgment.13 Entering Zimri-Addu’s Qa¢¢unan All this raises a question about what happens when men of seemingly uncertain background show up unannounced near a town, and this led me to inspect ARM 27, 116, a letter sent to Zimri-Lim of Mari, with contents piquant enough for Jean-Marie Durand to compare them with events at the siege of Jericho and for Sophie (Démare) Lafont to use them in evaluating the status of the outsider in the Old Babylonian period.14 The author of this letter is Zimri-Addu, a man with proven standing in 11

Had rape of males been at stake, presumably the sons might have been better baits than the daughters Lot offered the crowd at his door. 12 There is a problem about the daughters and the relations they might have had with the sons-in-law. Rashi (among others) assumes Lot has only two daughters who were engaged to marry. Yet in v. 14 wytnb yxql (lit., “takers of his daughters”) that follows on wyntx “sons-in-law” can only be about marriage, as is the case whenever xql “to take,” is in similar contexts, whether or not it is construed with the word hva, “woman, wife”; see Gen 34:16, where Jacob proposes tribal confederation with the Shechem upon taking and giving daughters. Others imagine that the two daughters that Lot offered the posse, and who later bore him Moab and Ben-Ammi (vv. 37–38), were in addition to those who perished in the conflagration with their husbands. The TNK assumed the last was the case and cites the angels as urging Lot to take along his “remaining” daughters, a gratuitous expansion of the text. Everything is possible, of course; but in reading narratives one should refrain from introducing characters not explicitly provided by their authors. 13 Lot’s lack of judgment is furthered by a paralysis of resolve (v. 16) and by his inability to accept the hazard of his situation or to distance himself from the scene of the cataclysm (vv. 18–20). That this whole incident is played as prequel to the sordid goings on in the cave of Zoar (vv. 30–38) fits the overall characterization of Lot as achieved in chapter 19. 14 Durand, J.-M. Réalités amorrites et traditions bibliques. RA 92 (1998):11– 14; Sophie (Démare) Lafont. Le roi, le juge et l’étranger à Mari et dans la Bible. RA 92 (1998):171–181; Femmes, Droit et Justice dans l’antiquité orientale. Contribution à l’étude du droit pénal au Proche-Orient ancien (OBO 165). Fribourg, 1998, p. 424.

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Qa¢¢unan province if only because he had good access to clay and to scribes. Like many of the principals in the Mari archive, he had many duties, among them leading troops to allies, carrying diplomatic missions, and doing everything to enhance his value to the king.15 Since he traded on confidence, Zimri-Addu was not beyond snitching on colleagues (ARM 27, 117),16 and belittling potential competitors (ARM 27, 152). In turn, he is disparaged by them (ARM 27, 151; see ARM 26, 380). His complaints about being denied land or water rights (ARM 27, 137–138) show him combative; but also betray the lack of clout to give him results. He adopts a chummy tone with the king’s private secretary (ARM 27, 125; see 137) and fearlessly attacks some of the king’s most trusted officers, such as the mer¶ûm Ibal-pi-El (ARM 27, 152) as well as Zakira-Úammu (ARM 27, 108–109, 137–138), who may have been his immediate superior at Qa¢¢unan. At one point, however, he complains of being shunned by his colleagues, admitting that he was “moving about like a cursed man” (ARM 27, 151:102). I think we will soon learn why.

15

On Zimri-Addu, see M. Birot’s comments to ARM 27, 99–172 (Correspondance des gouverneurs de Qa¢¢unân. Paris, 1993), as well as his introductory remarks in ARM 27, 26–29, 30–36. Additional Qa¢¢unan documents are published by J.-M. Durand. Administrateurs de Qa¢¢unân. FM 2 (1994):83–114 and Isabelle Guillot. Les gouverneurs de Qa¢¢unân: nouveaux textes. FM 3 (1997):271–290 (FM 3 131–133). A Zimri-Addu makes sugāgūtum payment on 14 vi in a year (“Lions of Dagan”) as yet not set securely within Zimri-Lim’s year-formulas: FM 10 (2008):65. Fine overviews of Zimri-Addu and his career are in B. Lion’s Les gouverneurs provinciaux du royaume de Mari à l’époque de Zimri-Lîm. Amurru 2 (2001):167–171 and in Nele Ziegler’s review of M. Birot’s ARMT 27 (AfO 46–47 (1999–2000):324– 336). It is not yet settled whether our Zimri-Addu is the same as the leader of Mari troops during Hammurabi’s Larsa’s campaign. Birot argues (ARMT 27, p. 30, n. 153) for them being the same because echoes of the same complaints against a Zakira¶ammu are found in both sets of Zimri-Addu’s letters (27, 108–109 and 137–138). 16 Zimri-Addu sends ARM 27, 117 to the king: ‘Yatarum, the son of Larum, conveyed 10 pounds of tin to the land of Idamara´ with which to purchase slaves. He gave half a pound of silver to Šubram. When Yatarum’s messenger realized that there were no slaves for purchase, he left this tin, as well as his (Yatarum’s) seal, in Der with Ba´´um (a few broken lines). I wrote to Ba´´um the following, “This being a palace matter, 2 of your colleagues should take the 10 pounds of tin that Yatarum’s young servant left with you, as well as his seal, and convey them to my lord.” This is what I wrote, but so far my messenger has not returned (any response), one way or another. I am now writing my lord and he should write me however he wishes it done.’

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In the middle years of Zimri-Lim’s reign, when Zimri-Addu was carrying out his duties, Qa¢¢unan was apparently no longer the forsaken spot that an earlier governor had whined about.17 Three major officials (La’um, Zakira-Úammu, and Zimri-Addu) overlapped in their efforts to keep it under Mari’s control. One of Zimri-Addu’s jobs was chief of human resources for work in the district, and as such it involved him in policing it.18 In ARM 27, 121, he conveys to Mari a person his guards kidnapped with the proviso that the man must not be allowed to return home.19 In ARM 27, 118, he finds reason to arrest a man who somewhat stupidly

17

Akšak-magir sends Zimri-Lim FM 2, 88–89; Heimpel, W. Letters to the King of Mari (MC 12). Winona Lake, 2003, p. 516: ‘Ever since my lord has selected (lit. “touched”) me in Samanum, I continued to listen to my lord’s utterances (lips), erring neither by commission or omission. In fact, my lord had shown me benevolence. In an unfortunate way, it is as if I had betrayed my lord’s (secret) order and, by holding me responsible, my lord had sent me to this plot of land. But once in Qa¢¢unan, however, I did not complain. My lord must not judge me unreliable. When nothing was there, ever since I arrived here, I have plowed 100 acres of land; moreover, I brought together a scattered palace (staff). Now then, I keep hearing about the voyage of my lord to Ka¶at. I fear that my lord might rely on the Qa¢¢una(n) palace and not have provisions for travel and lodging brought here. There is no brewer here and there are no millers … My lord must not transfer me for no fault and replace me with Maprakum. My lord should send an answer to my tablet, whatever the decision, so that I could get to leave.’ 18 During the last days of Zimri-Lim, policing movement in and out of Mari was the job of Manatan, who left us a small dossier; see Ozan, G. Les letters de Manatân. FM 3 (1997):291–305 and earlier Ziegler, N. Deux esclaves en fuite à Mari. FM 2 (1994):11–21. Manatan reports on people passing through and forwards news he gathers on interviews. Ambassadors and messengers who lack proper documentation or who show up unexpectedly create the most problem for him, as is clear from the series of documents FM 3, 147–149. It is interesting that the Mari front office kept track of where its messengers were at any one time, as suggested by A.3889 (Lafont, B. Le fonctionnement de la poste et le métier de facteur d’après les textes de Mari. Young, G. D. et al. (eds.). Crossing Boundaries and Linking Horizons: Studies in Honor of Michael C. Astour on His 80th Birthday. Bethesda, 1997, p. 327). 19 “… I am sending along to my lord this man along with Bali-Addu, chief for the squad I have dispatched to seize him; my lord should question this man. This man should be guarded and must not post a notice to his land (naš[partam] ana mātīšu lā uše´´i). I am writing to my lord as servant.”

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admits to have kidnapped people for a foreign ruler.20 Zimri-Addu was by no means unique in displaying strong-arm tactics, for there is a fair amount of exchanges in the archives in which either the king or his administrators speak of ridding themselves of particular individuals, the notion being that a certain degree of lawless behavior was acceptable, especially when perpetrated by the state.21 Officials working in the boonies may even make a business of it as long as they were discreet so as not to harm the king’s political standing.22 Occasionally, such undertakings take unexpected turns and in our letter we find Zimri-Addu trying to deflect potential reproach because he 20

The story is picked up following lines 1′: ‘(Ibal-pi-El) wrote to Sammetar (likely the king of Ašnakkum), saying “(Iš¶i-Lim) kidnapped in Úamiqatum, a land under treaty with us. Now if you expect my satisfaction (lit: satiety), look after the welfare of those young men and release them. In a land under treaty …” This is the note that Ibal-pi-El wrote to Sammetar and Sammetar released them. When these young men saw Iš¶i-Lim on the road, they led him to me, saying “This man kidnapped us from Úamiqatum.” But he denied (knowing) these young men, saying, “I have not kidnapped you.” But in an aside he told me, “We are three men and Sammetar sent us to kidnap these young men.” I had this man thrown in jail. I am now writing my lord; my lord should write me as he pleases (rest fragmentary).’ 21 See the two articles: Bonneterre, D. The Structure of Violence in the Kingdom of Mari. The Canadian Society for Mesopotamian Studies Bulletin 30 (1995):11–22 and idem. Surveiller, punir et se venger: la violence d’état à Mari. MARI 8 (1997): 537–561. Sophie Lafont studies a number of OB documents with the theme: Enlèvement et séquestration à l’époque paléo-babylonienne. FM 6 (2002):69–88. 22 Governors can confess to having murderous thoughts. Kibri-Dagan writes his king (ARM 3, 36 = LAPO 17, 704, pp. 451–452): ‘Ôura-Úammu stopped me just at the city gate and told me the following, “As of now, you are in control of my estate in my own town. You seized my servant; but just now my lord supported me to return my servant. So give me back my servant; turn him back for him to serve me.” This is what this man said to slight me. Now I was just about to take hold of this man and send him to hell but had respect for my lord. For this reason, I did not touch this man, and said nothing hurtful to his face. Yet this man did slight me, and said incredible things to my face. Now, I am writing to my lord so that he can do what suits him.’ Ôura-Úammu is the Yaminite leader of the Amnanum tribe; see Bardet, G. Textes No 1 à 90, pp. 18–20 in ARM 23 as well as Durand, J.-M. Peuplement et sociétés a l’époque amorrite (I): Les clans bensim’alites. Amurru 3 (2004):168.

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blundered badly when he detained two men moving into Qa¢¢unan. His letter is remarkably assertive, given the error to which he readily admits. Yet because letter writing is also a form of storytelling, Zimri-Addu needed to give structure and causality to the events that were mishandled, intimating that their occurrence was inevitable and therefore excusable. To gain praise rather than blame, he must also suggest to the king corrective acts that will seem undemanding but also prudent. The arrival of Num¶â tribesmen ARM 27, 116 opens, as do so many others, with assurance that everything is under control, with Qa¢¢unan safe and sound. (See Appendix for a translation of the letter.) Two Num¶â tribesmen reached the city gate and were moving toward the town’s center (Qa¢¢unan rebītim). ZimriAddu had them picked up and when they were brought to him in the dead of the night, he had them thrown in the nepārum. Let us call this nepārum, “jail”; but especially when it is in the singular, the word in the Mari records evokes a Guantanamo Bay where people can be made to disappear.23 Nothing is particularly striking here since local authorities 23

References to nepārum in the singular gravitate to the meaning “prison,” a transitional place in which to process undesirables or keep them out of circulation while matters are pending. In the plural (nepārātum), it refers to workplaces. (Unfortunately, there are exceptions both ways.) On the nepārum see the comments of Durand in LAPO 18 (pp. 250–258) and those of Heimpel (Letters, p. 208), as well as the articles of M.-F. Scouflaire: Quelques cas de détentions abusives à l’époque du royaume de Mari. Akkadica 53 (1987):25–35 and Premières réflexions sur l’organisation des “prisons” dans le royaume de Mari. Lebeau, M.; Talon, P. (eds.). Reflets des Deux Fleuves. Volume de Mélanges Offerts à André Finet (Akkadica Sup. 6). Leuven, 1989, pp. 157–160. Add now FM 9, 3:27 and 28:17. Whether or not these nepārātum need to be differentiated from the ´ibittum / bīt ´ibitti is difficult to assess. While all sorts of people can be thrown in a nepārum (for example, two songstresses, for unknown reasons, ARM 27, 47; a man with tax issues, FM 2, 52; a loose tongue, FM 9, 28), some dangerous people are dumped there: a parricide (ARM 27, 115 = LAPO 18, 1063, pp. 237–238), a blabbermouth (A.2801 = LAPO 16, 268, pp. 418–420), a potential regicide (ARM 28, 52), and an aggressive murderer (ARM 27, 57). The unpleasantness that occurred there includes starvation (A. 1401 see F. Joannès. Nouveaux Mémorandums. Durand, J.-M.; Kupper, J.-R. (eds.). Miscellanea Babylonica. Mélanges offerts à Maurice Birot. Paris, 1985, pp. 102–103. According to a fuller version of ARM 14, 17 = LAPO 17, 829, pp. 640–642, an imprisoned man was being forced to sell family and property to escape execution. Horror stories about those in a nepārum are also preserved in such texts as ARM 14, 77–78 (LAPO 18, 928–929, pp. 64–68). In a Shemshara document, Samsi-Addu tells Kuwari: “Concerning Hazip-Tešub about whose execution you

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can pick up people on a whim or suspicion, especially when they do not carry credentials, are not part of a group, or simply carry valuable information.24

wrote to me, I have this notion: since you have talked about his execution, let him die. Why should he live? Let him die in jail (nepārum). He is always writing to his city wishing to turn your land against you. If his kinfolk who are with me ask, I will act like he remains alive, saying, ‘he lives, he lives!’ … They will keep imagining him as living and stuck in jail”; see ShT.883 = ShL I, 16:16–31 = Eidem, J.; Læssøe, J. The Shemshara Archives. I. The letters. Copenhagen, 2001. An earlier (?) letter (ShT.906+ = ShL I, 17) has Kuwari worried that Samsi-Addu is treating his nemesis too well. See also ShT.873 = ShL I, 46, a man jailed for being (falsely) accused of deserting. A nice study on prisons in the NB period is: Kleber, K.; Frahm, E. A Not-So-Great Escape: Crime and Punishment according to a Document from Neo-Babylonian Uruk. JCS 58 (2006):123–135. Two documents refer to the consequence of travelling without proper permits. In A.2776 Samsi-Addu direct his son to throw into a nepārum messengers and merchants who travel without permission (balum šâlim). For travelling without a visa, Asqur-Addu of Karana could put people to death; see A.285:24′–25′. Both these texts are published on pp. 383–387 of Charpin, D.; Durand, J.-M. Aššur avant l’Assyrie. MARI 8 (1997). 24 See the interesting article of Ziegler, N. Samsi-Addu et la combine sutéenne. Amurru 3 (2004), especially pp. 107–108. The “classic” Mari letter about making people disappear is ARM 13, 107 (= LAPO 18, 1069, p. 244). Kibri-Dagan writes the king: ‘My lord wrote me the following about Yarim-Dagan who formerly lived in Dunnum, but who has now gone to Ilum-muluk, “(Locate) this man. If there is a secret pit, in the open field or within town, get rid of that man. No one must find him whether climbing heaven or sinking to hell.” This is what my lord wrote me. Now, (while) this man is dwelling in Ilum-muluk, I have looked into the matter: There is no secret pit in the open field or in town in which to get rid of him. I have looked for the opportunity to get rid of him but have not yet found it (a few lines missing). My lord should reflect in accordance with his majesty, for me to fulfill my lord’s order.’ It would be too far-fetched to think that the Yarim-Dagan who carried news of Princess Kirum’s woes (see ARM 10, 33 and 35) was to be silenced for his knowledge of a sordid matter. There is a similar situation in ARM 1, 57 (= LAPO 18, 1076, p. 251), in which Samsi-Addu writes his son, “I am sending Simti-Era¶ to you. He should be kept in jail. Nothing about him must be let out, whether he dies or lives …” Two documents refer to the consequence of travelling without proper permits. In A.2776, Samsi-Addu directs his son to throw into a nepārum messengers and merchants who travel without permission (balum šâlim). For travelling without a visa, Asqur-Addu of Karana could put people to death; see A.285:

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Whether the matter was political or not is difficult to say because we cannot date accurately most of the letters; still, that they are attributed to the Num¶âs may suggest that the matter was indeed political. Num¶â was a major tribe with important settlements by Kurda and Karana south of the Sindjar. With little cohesion among its elements and between it and it its tribal congeners, Sim’al and Yamutbal, the Num¶âs no less than Kurda played political yo-yo with Mari (pro ARM 27, 14; contra ARM 26, 358), even during Zimri-Lim’s relatively brief reign and possibly also during the handful of years Zimri-Addu was in Qa¢¢unan.25 Were these two men taken for spies that needed arrest, as Durand implies (RA 92 (1998):

24′–25′; these two texts are cited in Charpin D.; Durand, J.-M. Aššur avant l’Assyrie. MARI 8 (1997):383–387. The Mari records also contain a fair amount of information on people detained in limited space or in relatively attractive place, for example, in a bīt nap¢arim. They might be kept against their will so as to prevent them from revealing sensitive troop movements (preparation for war) or from relaying what they hear. In some cases, important people are kept against their will to force them to do something they would rather not. Their situation can deteriorate by receiving inadequate ration or (worse?) by being denied the normal courtesies due their ranks. See for example, ARM 26, 368 (= LAPO 17, 584):36–38, concerning an Elamite diplomat; somewhat similar is ARM 26, 361 (= LAPO 17, 558):16–17. Something similar was likely occurring to Belšunu, despite his jeremiads, when confined in an É AGRIG (AbB 2, 83). On the bīt nap¢arim, see the comments of Veenhof, K. R. Assyrian Commercial Activities in Old Babylonian Sippar—Some New Evidence, pp. 294–295 in Charpin, D.; Joannès, F. (eds.). Marchands, diplomates et empereurs: études sur la civilisation mésopotamienne, offertes à Paul Garelli. Paris, 1991. See also Lafont, S. Le roi, le juge et l’étranger à Mari et dans la Bible. RA 92 (1998):173–175. 25 On Num¶â (according to ARM 26, 412, around Kurda and Karana) and Yamutbal (around Andarig), see Joannès, F. Routes et voies de communication dans les archives de Mari. Amurru 1 (1996):349–354. These tribal groups shared generic identity and even join in combat, according to A.3274; see Guichard, M. Les relations diplomatiques entre Ibal-pi-El et Zimri-Lim: Deux étapes vers la discorde. RA 96 (2002):131–132. More often they were in perpetual tension with each other. We have a nice letter in which combative Num¶â declares its lust for battling Yamutbal (ARM 27, 68). Hammurabi of Babylon presumes (incorrectly) perpetual enmity between Zimri-Lim’s Mari and Num¶â; see A.3577, cited in Durand, J.-M. Espionnage et guerre froide: la fin de Mari. FM 1 (1992):45–46. Yamutbal and Num¶â could circulate en masse (includes “little boys and girls” and male and female slaves) near Terqa and Úišamta, creating havoc and food shortage in the region; see ARM 2, 99 (= ARM 26, 62 and LAPO 17, 735, pp. 492– 494). These groups also moved toward Kurda from Saggaratum (ARM 26, 302).

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13)?26 Were they transients who failed to register locally, as Sophie Lafont suggests (RA 92 (1998):172–173)? Or were they merely riffraff, the kind of Num¶âs known from other documents to attack people in transit (ARM 27, 168) and to deceive women into leaving their homes?27 Zimri-Addu does not explain what plans he had for the men he had arrested. He only says that that nobody witnessed what happened, conveniently ignoring the part played by those arresting them. This is the first of many instances in which he doles out facts that may be true, but are they certainly are not truths, and we will soon realize that Zimri-Addu is no more reliable a narrator than is Lot as a character. Typical for such literature, however, he will leave the evidence for us to question his credibility. The inquiry Three men, Zimri-Addu continues, came to ask about the two Num¶âs because they knew them to have crossed just ahead of them. We have their names: Zimri-Era¶, Saggaran, and Yakun-Addu; but as Zimri-Addu says nothing at this stage about their identity or their destination, we must presume that he expects the king to be aware of them and their mission.28 The few words they are quoted to say may betray Canaanism; but this could be the scribe’s contribution.29 Zimri-Addu answers them in 26

On spies and spying in the documents, see J.-M. Durand’s LAPO 17, pp. 304–310. 27 A.582 (Durand, J.-M. Réalités amorrites. RA 92 (1998):10): ‘Two Num¶â men and a man from Nuruggum, having come from Dumatum, had seduced two women, telling them, “Come along and be our wives.” They had brought with them two mares and were going to the river. 3 Sim’al, one from Úišamta and two from Úimmaran, saw them at the edge of the Úabur. They began to pasture animals with them. That same night, these abominations of God killed them below the field area. They kidnapped the two women and the mares, planning to sell them …’ 28 Zimri-Addu does not say where the party of Zimri-Era¶ was going. Heimpel (Letters, p. 451 note 2 comments: “If they went to Mari, and if the king was in Mari at the time, the timing ‘on their return’ makes no apparent sense. Possibly they were headed for Babylon and Zimri-Lim was not in Mari at the time”). Yakun-Addu may have been from Kurda (ARM 14, 110:10) or from Andariq (ARM 7, 211:3). If the name is any indication, Saggaran may also be from Kurda, as its god was Šaggar. 29 LÚ.MEŠ a-li-na (l. 12), or so conjectures Birot, p. 203 note e. The form is found in a letter from Urgiš, ARM 28, 44:7, where Zimri-Lim is quoted to say,

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half-truths. They did not reach Qa¢¢unan’s square, he declares; which is technically correct.30 He promises that his patrols will monitor any movement which, given the circumstance, is beside the point if not also crass. Rather abruptly, Zimri-Addu takes the offensive: dozens from Num¶â and Yamutbal, he says, have come to Qa¢¢unan in recent days, likely as migrant workers; but none among them has ever complained of being guarded or oppressed; in fact they once testified to exactly this benevolence on his part.31 We could ask why Zimri-Addu needed to tell Zimri-Lim such tidbit about his hospitality. The king has already been alerted about the arrested Num¶âs, so Zimri-Addu risked appearing too clever. Perhaps this grandstanding about his managerial probity is simply to reassure the king that this matter is isolated and should not compromise his record of accomplishment or his future effectiveness. Alerting the king When the visitors leave without offering gratitude, Zimri-Addu must have sensed that the matter is far from ended. As a mid-level careerist, a cantankerous one at that, he certainly could expect his authority to be challenged by his equals and so he acts with the certainty that a complaint will be lodged. Writing the king, he claims that he had not been aware of the connection between the Num¶âs and his visitors; but he never makes it clear how long he was in the dark about it. I am supposing that by the time he wrote, the Num¶â affair had become irreversible and I would not be surprised if Zimri-Addu had already disposed of the men, perhaps having sold them to the Sutu nomads, experts at trafficking flesh.32

alinama dummuqātum ša ana Terru attaddinu, “where are just now the good deeds I showered on Terru?” 30 Does Zimri-Addu expect Zimri-Lim to approve of such cleverness? For such casuistry see A.2995+ (LAPO 16, 310, pp. 490–493), with more juicy examples in Gichard, M. Violation du serment et casuistique à Mari. Lafont, S. (ed.). Jurer et maudire: pratiques politiques et usages juridiques du serment dans le Proche-Orient ancien (Méditerranées (1997):10–11). Pp. 71–84. 31 “1 LÚ ina libbišunu ša ukaddušu uluma ebēlšu LÚ šū liqbi.” For kuddum, see A.1401 (cited above):25–27, “annûm ša IGI Itur-mer Ištar-kabar ina nepārim ukiddu.” 32 The reputation of Sutu as kidnappers and slave traders haunted Zimri-Lim who once dreamt they were kidnapping his spouse (ARM 26, 225). Sutus had no compunction to enslave their own (ARM 8, 9), and could be relied upon to carry on the trade even within among territories in alliance (salmātum). This is nicely il-

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So Zimri-Addu suddenly becomes positively garrulous, with details about the Num¶âs that were likely extracted from his victims.33 The Num¶âs were no messengers, he claims; one was shiftless, moving from Saggaratum to Kurda, and the other attended Saggaran, one of the three men who had visited him. Zimri-Addu is betting that, though they left in silence, the visitors likely knew what had happened in Qa¢¢unan and feels certain that in justifying their plaint before the king (awātni i niškun), they will likely demand the testimony of “their” ma(p)palū (l. 34; but also 42 and 49) as well that of a Num¶â woman in whose house the two men were seized. The woman, who is never named, was apparently the wife of a Sim’al man, so basically of the same stock as the Num¶âs; but whether or not she was their kin or hosting them for romantic or commercial reasons is not easy to tell.34 That she will be a major personality in this drama will soon become clear. The mystery is who are these ma(p)palū whose presence is demanded at the expected inquest? Birot and Durand give philological reasons why they are “translators,” and so does Heimpel, but with much less enthusiasm.35 Durand relies on this de-

lustrated by ARM 14, 79 (= LAPO 18, 1056, pp. 229–230), a letter Yaqqim-Addu of Saggaratum sent the king: ‘The nomad Halākumu has sold a slave to the Sutus in Idamara´ [Durand: Hit] and was leading here 2 donkeys and 3 sheep, his payment. Those on patrol did not notice it when he shuttled the slave from here to Idamara´ [Durand: Hit]. On his return, however, those on patrol seized and led to me the 2 donkeys. I interrogated Úalākumu, who had sold the slave to the Sutus, and he said, “I bought this slave in another land and sold him in another land. Why are you questioning me?” So I told him, “This whole area is under my own lord’s peace. One day they might come and meet my lord; what would I respond?” I am now conveying Úalākumu and the 2 donkeys, (used as) payment for the slave. The 3 sheep were indeed slaughtered …’ In this regard AbB 3, 1, a letter from Samsu-iluna, shows that these sentiments prevailed beyond Mari, “No one must purchase from the Sutus men or women from Idamara´ or Arrap¶a. Any merchant who purchases from Sutus a person from Idamara´ or Arrap¶a will forfeit his money.” On the Sutus, see Joannès, F. Palmyre et les routes du désert as début du deuxième millénaire av. J.C. MARI 8 (1997):408–411. 33 We note that the visitors told him nothing like that. 34 Whether or not she was a prostitute, I would not play her as a Rahab from Jericho, at least because there is no reason to imagine that spying was at issue. 35 The word seems to be derived from apālum, but in which way or in what sense is difficult to say, given the broad range of the verb; see Heimpel, Letters, pp. 450–451, n. 153 for diverse suggestions.

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tail to question our notion of Amorite unity when Kurda and Mari needed dragomen to communicate.36 But why would such a small party need two such translators, especially when one of them worked for Saggaran who presumably shared the same language skills? Birot suggests that the word in fact may actually mean “witnesses” or “guarantors.” What is clear is that Zimri-Addu senses a scandal brewing because he expects the Num¶â woman to accuse these ma(p)palū (qaqqassunu ima¶¶a´).37 I speculate therefore that they are the guards who arrested the men, but cannot explain why they would be attributed to the visitors. In truth, none of the suggestions about who were these ma(p)palū inspires confidence. Luckily, the thread of the story is not fully compromised and we might now focus on multiple ways by which Zimri-Addu tries to neutralize his error by ostensibly saving his king embarrassment. The advice Zimri-Addu’s first tack is to advise the king to avoid at all costs holding an inquest in Mari. The king should claim that the matter has gotten too entangled and must therefore be resolved where it originated, at Qa¢¢unan or perhaps Kurda. There, the ma(p)palū can be made to take oaths, pre36

Durand. Amurru 3:113–114. The idiom qaqqadam ma¶ā´um, “to strike the head” can have many meanings, some of which are covered also by pūtam ma¶ā´um, for which see the CAD M1 80 and Q 112. It applies to persons and objects. In Old Assyrian it seems to mean, “to claim” or even “to guarantee” see Veenhof, K. R. Aspects of Old Assyrian Trade and Its Terminology. Leiden, 1972, pp. 161–162 and n. 274. Durand suggests “confirmer les dires de quelqu’un”; see RA 92 (1998):8, n. 39. I take my cue from it occurrence in A.88 (LAPO 16, 252, with commentary), were it has to do with accusations. Yatar-Ammi, just becoming ruler at Carchemish writes “his father” Zimri-Lim: ‘Before you now are the two men I have dispatched with NapsunaAddu. About this matter being reported regarding the city of Irrid, these men were cited in this way, “They have talked with Mebisa, a servant of Bunuma-Addu and, therefore, are aware of the affair.” Now therefore, I have had these men taken to the god River (= Hit?). But their accuser (LÚ mā¶i´ qaqqadīšunu) is being kept in jail under guard. Together with Napsuna-Addu, one of your trustworthy servants ought to lead these men to the god River. If these men survive the ordeal, I shall burn their accusers; but if these men die, right here I shall give their house(hold) and their servants to their accusers. My father should report their matter (i. e., how they fared) back to me.’ 37

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sumably under the aegis of local gods. Qa¢¢unan, of course, is where Zimri-Addu has standing; but Kurda, with its temple to Šaggar, is another matter, because the land came in and out of Mari’s orbit as often as it changed kings.38 Should they refuse the offer, requesting instead an inquest in Mari before the god Itur-Mer, the king was to insist on another avenue, justifying this course because Itur-Mer and the king were both preoccupied with the harvest. Giving advice to the king is fairly standard among Mari officialdom. Generally the people making them are cautious, ending with such platitudes as “My lord should ponder the matter” and/or “My Lord should decide one way or another.”39 While coaching the king toward slanted truths is fairly documented in Mari documents, administrators normally plant in them seeds of plausibility, for Mari was full of messengers, diplomats, even spies (in the form of wives and concubines), who might ferret out reality. Thus, Sammetar, among the crème de la crème at Mari until 38

On Kurda, see Kupper, ARM 28, 235–242; Charpin and Ziegler, FM 5, pp. 207–208. Zimri-Era¶ was in charge of shuttling the symbols of vassalage from Zimri-Lim to Kurda’s new king Hammurabi; see ARM 28, 166, and ARM 26, 40 where he is acting as a roving ambassador. 39 Rare are the examples in which an official openly ignores his king’s order because “I have done what must be done.” This is how Lanasum (defiantly?) ends his letter to Zimri-Lim (A.402 = FM 6, 89–92): ‘My lord had previously written me as follows about Ya¶urrûs who raided a caravan, “A council should convene. Bind these men and have them brought to me.” Now I had heard (about it) the same day these men raided the caravans. The next day (people) came here to tell me about the caravan raid, “The raiders as well as their possessions were seized.” I myself on day three convened the council and informed them about this matter. The citizens gave me 30 men and I went in aid against the raiders. In the middle of the journey, Sabinum, the tribal commander of Yari¶û—and with him were the Ya¶urrû raiders—was heading to Ôuri-Úammu. Because of this matter, I faced these men in the middle of the journey; there was no rope at their waist. I seized nothing in their hand. They had no witnesses. I had these men strangled so that from now into the future, anyone would fear and not lay hand on anything. I gave 51 shekels to the robbed merchants. I thus settled their case right there and then. When the money of the merchant is entered into the temple of Dagan, it is deposited before Dagan. I have done what must be done.’ In l. 27 read mu-ki!-in-šu-nu; a reading opposed by Lafont (pp. 97–98) and J.-M. Durand, “diânum D,” NABU 2005/85; they suggest that some kind of judge is at stake.

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his posthumous disgrace, fed his king three different excuses to use when seeking grain from Yamhad.40 The excuse Zimri-Addu is suggesting, however, seems odd; for it depends on the unlikelihood that his adversaries were ignorant of Mari customs during the harvest season. Did everyone forget that neither the king nor Itur-Mer would have had time for inquests when managing the yield of their properties? Still, the pretext raises questions on what is it that troubled Zimri-Addu? Did he want to avoid an oath before Itur-Mer (reputed to be the “Lord of Oaths”) because this god was less likely to tolerate shaded excuses? If so, why would oaths before gods that travel with the king be more effective in masking the truth?41 Or is that Zimri-Addu simply did not want his nemeses to be in Mari as they seek to unravel events? If so, his next suggestion is revealing even if couched in difficult language. Here we learn that Zimri-Era¶, a member of the party investigating Zimri-Addu’s behavior, was in fact a Mari official. Despite homonyms, this particular Zimri-Era¶ is likely to be the very high official to whom Zimri-Lim entrusted, late in the year ZL 4′, the delivery of the symbols of vassalage (throne, clothing, and a gift) to the newly enthroned Hammurabi of Kurda (ARM 28, 166).42 Zimri-Addu is obvious in wanting his king to influence Zimri-Era¶’s testimony. This much is clear even if the vocabulary he attaches to Zimri-Era¶ is not. In Mari, kaltum/keltum refers to a person coveting another’s throne; but it is hard to see how it fits here.43 There is, in fact, some disorder in this par40

A.1101 = LAPO 16, 230 (pp. 362–364). On Sammetar, see Frans van Koppen’s excellent study on the fall of the elite: Seized by Royal Order: The Households of Sammêtar and Other Magnates at Mari. FM 6 (2002):289–372; see also Lion, B. Les gouverneurs provinciaux du royaume de Mari à l’époque de ZimriLîm. Amurru 2 (2001):188–195. 41 We know that the emblem of Itur-mer could travel far on ceremonial occasions. A.7258, cited in translation only, has Itur-mer’s emblem join with that of Šaggar of Kurda when affirming a treaty; see Durand, J.-M. Itûr-Mêr, dieu des serments in Jurer et maudire, p. 61. In the same article (p. 64), Durand cites an unpublished letter that deals with the reluctance to take an oath in Mari. Ibal-El writes that the king had asked him to send two witnesses in a dispute so that they take an oath on Itur-mer. Ibal-El reminds Zimri-Lim of his (the king’s) suggestion that nomads should be able to take oaths by the gods of their area. Because of cold weather, Ibal-El suggests that the oath be taken at Der or wait until Zimri-Lim comes with his god to the Upper Country. 42 ARM 28, 166; see Charpin and Ziegler, FM 5, p. 207, n. 334 and n. 336. 43 Birot gingerly connects with qūltum, “silence,” but comes up with awkward rendering. Heimpel prudently leaves the sentence be.

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ticular passage that could be attributed to the scribe (a few words are missing); but they might also indicate discomfort in such a suggestion. Having urged his king toward avoidance of oath-taking and subornation of perjury, Zimri-Addu could not be certain about the reaction; the king might simply go ahead and hold the dreaded inquest in Mari itself. So, even as he professes his loyalty, Zimri-Addu has one more suggestion: this time it is to neutralize the testimony of the chief witness to his act, the Num¶â woman. What if she is kept in a bīt išparātim, a workshop for female weavers for a few weeks? Now this could be a bribe, because such women do receive ration and oil. But it could also be a distancing mechanism, because this is where captured women are first settled before they are assigned elsewhere. Where she would be confined is not clear. It makes sense that Zimri-Addu is speaking of a local workshop where he has control; but so far we know of such workshops only at Mari and Der. It might thus mean that Zimri-Addu is offering to ship her far away from Qa¢¢unan, while letting others decide for how long.44 A good servant, Zimri-Addu leaves the final decision to the king. Unfortunately we do not know how the matter was settled. As far as ZimriAddu is concerned, much depends on whether or not we identify him with the Zimri-Addu who was entrusted with Mari troops at the siege of Larsa around the year ZL 9′. The matter of identity of two homonyms is always ticklish; but while I favor differentiating between them, I cannot insist on it. But if they were, then Zimri-Addu would obviously not have lost favor with his king. This would not at all be surprising since ZimriLim, unlike Samsi-Addu for example, has proven to be fairly tolerant of his officers’ gaffs and impudence.45 Conclusions I have two conclusions. First: As regards our Rencontre theme, this letter shows that in difficult environments administrators enjoyed such broad discretion that they might undertake unsavory activities provided they do not compromise their king.46 They could do so for private gains, of 44 See Ziegler, FM 4, p. 42, n. 25. See ARM 5, 67 (= LAPO 17, 852, pp. 671– 674) in which weavers of both sexes were said to be without work in Razama, Burullum and Úaburtum. 45 See my study The Burden of Scribes, pp. 211–228 in Abusch (ed.). Riches Hidden. 46 This entrepreneurship can extend even to guards, as indicated by ARM 14, 51 (= LAPO 18, 1054, pp. 226–228).

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course; but the Mari records also indicate major competition among officials and the temptation to humiliate others or to settle scores could not always be resisted.47 While Zimri-Lim himself was not beyond ordering the secret elimination of individuals, in our context, however, everything indicates that the kidnapping of the Num¶âs was Zimri-Addu’s own inspiration. What is striking is his expectation the king would endorse fairly anarchic, if not unethical, practices just to help extract him from a mess. In this, Zimri-Addu was not unique. We have a spectacular example in the splendid dossier Durand published in FM 7 about Zimri-Lim’s purchase of Ala¶tum. There Nūr-Sin, a courtier of incomparable incompetence, created messes when representing the king at the Aleppo palace; yet he had no qualms to demand his king’s support. In this particular case, however, Zimri-Lim was wise enough to dispatch a more experienced official to salvage the operation.48 Of more consequence is what this letter tells us about the disjunction between ideal and reality when underlings dispense justice, a topic nicely

47

Provincial administrators can put up with a lot; occasionally, they confess to wanting to kill someone for insulting them; see ARM 3, 36 (= LAPO 17, 704, p. 451). This is a letter from Yaqqim-Addu, governor of Saggaratum: ‘Yan´ib-Dagan of Ba… [Durand: qui fait partie des commandos d’intervention] lives in my district. He went to Idamara´ and stole 8 slaves and 2 donkeys and sold them separately. I heard it from my own sources. Yan´ib-Dagan was summoned before me and I interrogated him, “Why did you steal slaves and donkeys in Idamara´, a land under my lord’s peace?” He said, “I actually did not steal; there might be men who sold slaves and donkeys for cash.” Zu¶atni, my lord’s servant, right away said. “You sold 4 slaves to Napsiya of Úarruwatum. You sold 2 donkeys to me and 4 slaves in Uta’um, in the Upper Country.” But Yan´ib-Dagan (said), “Convey me to the king and I shall reveal before the king those who stole the slaves and the donkeys.” I am therefore now conveying Yan´ib-Dagan to my lord. My lord can question him and … the men who stole and sold separately the slaves and the donkeys in Idamara´, selling them one after the other. Regarding strengthening my lord’s edict, I said, “I fear that [broken section, see Durand’s restoration] …” This is what I feared and have written my lord. My lord should interrogate him.’ 48 See Sasson, J. M. The Trouble with Nūr-Sin: Zimri-Lim’s Purchase of Ala¶tum. Barreyra Fracaroli, D. A.; del Olmo Lete, G. (eds.). Reconstruyendo el pasado remoto. Estudios sobre el Próximo Oriente antiguo en homenaje a Jorge R. Silva Castillo (AuOr Sup 25). Sabadell, 2009. Pp. 193–203.

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raised in recent literature.49 While I would not automatically assume that Zimri-Lim was receptive to Zimri-Addu’s elaborate scheme to bury a problem, nonetheless the letter does proceed from the assumption that the king might be persuaded to do so. There is in the Mari records a wonderful exhortation in which Addu of Aleppo tells Zimri-Lim, “I rubbed on you oil from my numinous glow so that no one could stand up to you. Now listen to my only wish: Whenever anyone appeals to you for judgment, saying, ‘I am aggrieved,’ be there to decide his case and to give him satisfaction. This is what I desire of you.”50 In reflecting on the diverse stratagems Zimri-Addu was bold enough to propose, it is legitimate to inquire whether the vaunted royal attachment to kittum and mīšarum was felt to apply only to the king’s own flock, perhaps even limited to the confines of safely controlled borders. The second conclusion takes me back to Gen 19. With the events at Qa¢¢unan as a lens for what could happen when unescorted people move distantly from familiar territory, let me reframe what was happening outside Lot’s door by filtering out the unreliable testimony of Abram’s nephew. Night was falling when two strangers who were headed to Sodom’s square disappeared. The people of Sodom come to inquire about the travelers’ welfare from Lot, a gēr, an outsider, hence not a person to interfere with movement in and out of the city.51 They obtain no explanation from him; rather, he makes them a baroque proposal. Were they likely to be distracted by an offer to abuse his daughters when, it must have been known in town, these women were wedded to people from Sodom? To the crowd milling outside his home, as to his sons-in-law later, Lot seemed a fool, perhaps more sinister than entertaining. Had these all these personalities been recovered from Mari documents rather than from the Bible, we might have read about the people of Sodom trying to ferret out the truth by subjecting Lot to an oath. But this is a Hebraic story, so it takes another turn: The people of Sodom storm Lot’s compound and they meet with disaster. What they could not know is that Lot’s guests were angels and that in aggressively 49

See for example Démare-Lafont, S. Droit comparé dans les sociétés du ProcheOrient Ancien (Conférence d’Ouverture. École Pratique des Hautes Études, 20 novembre 2000). Paris. Pp. 60–61. 50 The text (A.1968) is now re-edited as FM 7, p. 38. It has had many translations. 51 My student Chris Paris points out that in Judges 19 the man who helps the Levite is originally from the “hill country of Ephraim,” just like his guest (19:1, 16).

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seeking to know their whereabouts, the men of Sodom had become characters rehearsing a theme that is nicely documented in biblical lore: God indulges the weaknesses of people he wishes to destroy, turning their behavior as a hnat, a pretext, by which they can earn a harder fall. So for example, we read about God hardening the heart of Pharaoh before his troops are sunk in the sea. Or about bringing Samson to the banqueting tables of the Philistines (Judg 14:4) to better arrange their destruction. In fact, the many recipients (such as Saul and false prophets) of divinely sent “evil, lying, or distorting spirits” were never candidates for redemption. 52 Rather, they were mere instruments for teaching Israel lessons about a god whose motivations are not always transparent. The men of Sodom may have had good intentions when they milled around Lot’s gate; but their fate was sealed in Heaven long before they gathered there. With this thought in mind, Scriptural vagueness on the reason(s) for the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah contributes to making these “cities on the plain” the paradigm for wickedness that they are today. I expect their notoriety will remain unchanged long after this paper is featured in this Rencontre volume. Appendix: ARM 27, 116 (A.403) Zimri-Addu to “my lord” (Zimri-Lim): 3) The city Qa¢¢unan and the district are well. 2 Num¶â men arrived at the “Fences” but did not move into Qa¢¢unan Square. I gave orders and they were brought to me in the dead of night, and I had them put in jail. Nobody saw them. 9) But the next day Zimri-Era¶, Saggaran and Yakun-Addu came to tell me: “Two men were transiting just ahead of us. Where are those men?” I answered them, “They did not yet move into Qa¢¢unan Square. I will set guards (to check) on transit and entrance. Right now, there are from 1 to 200 Num¶â and Yamutbal people troops living in this district since last year. Now then, (if) there is one man among them whom I might oppress or dominate, that man should just speak out. Had they summoned before me all Num¶â folks that have lived here for a long time, they would have admitted, ‘We are living here for a long time, and not one man has disappeared.’ ”

52

For evil spirit (h[r-xwr), all hounding Saul, see 1 Sam 16:14 (and following); 18:10, 19:9 and Judges 9:23 (Abimelech and the Shechemites). For spirit of deceit (rqv xwr), see 1 Kgs 22:22f. and 2 Chr 18:21f. For ~y[w[ xwr, “spirit for distortions,” see Isa 19:14.

J. Sasson, Where Angels Fearlessly Tread… 24) When I answered them in this way, they rose and left. Yet, I simply did not know that these (jailed) men were traveling with them. Now then, on their return they will make a case before my lord. I fear they could tell my lord, “Those men were messengers, traveling with us.” These men were in no way messengers. One man was from Num¶â: he once lived in Saggaratum but emigrated (i¶buram) to Kurda and one man reports to Saggaran. So I fear they could tell my lord, “Our guards? (ma(p)palum) and a Num¶â woman, who is married to a Sim’al and in whose house those men were seized, must be led here so we could affirm our words.” 37) I also fear that my lord might not evade the matter. My lord could give orders for these men and the woman to be led here; but once they gather before my lord and the woman accuses them (qaqqassūnu ima¶¶a´), in consequence, the matter is bound to blow up. 40) May my lord reflect (on this) and answer them so, “As the matter has gotten muddled, go ahead and have your guards? to take an oath either in Qa¢¢unan or Kurda.” But I fear that they might say, “They must be led toward here and here take an oath before (the god) Itur-Mer.” (If so), my lord should answer them, “It is harvest time; so neither his (Itur-Mer’s) harvest nor the palace’s must be neglected. I plan to go upland myself; have your guards? swear by the gods that are traveling with me.” This is how my lord should answer them. 51) Now more than/over the bēl qaltim, Zimri-Era¶, has sided with my qaltum (ana qaltīya izzizam). Now then, before these men as one group (ina pu¶rišunu) , my lord must summon Zimri-Era¶ and instruct him. I have herewith written as part of my duty to my lord; but my lord can give these men whatever answer he wishes. In any case, beside the Num¶â woman who got involved in the matter, nobody has heard of that matter. 59) Now then, my lord should reflect on it; until the matter dampens, I could for a month or two detain the woman in the house of female weavers. My lord should instruct me, one way or another.

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The Old Babylonian Text Corpus Project (http://www.klinopis.cz/nobtc) Lukáš Pecha, Furat Rahman University of West Bohemia, Pilsen

The Old Babylonian Text Corpus Project (to be abbreviated as OBTC) is a long-term project which aims at creating a database of relevant Old Babylonian texts accessible on the Internet. The project was supported by a grant from the Grant Agency of the Czech Republic in the years 2005–2007 (No. 453/05/0533, main contractor: Furat Rahman). A part of the database which comprises cuneiform signs attested in the Old Babylonian texts was supported by a grant from the Grant Agency of the Academy of Sciences of the Czech Republic (1999–2001, No. A0021901, main contractor: Lukáš Pecha). The database includes texts written in the Old Babylonian dialect of the Akkadian language (ca. 2000–1600 B. C.). The texts can be divided into several groups according to their form and content. There are letters, administrative documents, contracts and other types of legal texts, royal inscriptions, omina and mathematical texts. At present, OBTC comprises 144,119 text lines. On this website, the UNICODE text encoding is used. Each text which has been included into the database is provided by further information such as the name and abbreviation of the edition, the author of the edition, the type of the text, its museum number, and provenance. The system enables the user to find any given word or sequence in the whole corpus of transliterated texts. It is possible to search for a single text chain as well as for a string of up to 3 text chains (the position of the individual words can be specified with the options ‘and,’ ‘or,’ ‘and not’). The searching can be limited to a specific group of words, particularly personal names and divine names. It is also possible to insert some more detailed criteria for searching regarding the type of texts, such as the name of the edition, museum number, type, provenance, registration number or date.

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All texts are available for searching according to sign-chains (transliteration). The search engine in OBTC version 1 (http://www.klinopis.cz) is available for everybody but the search is restricted to the following texts: Codex Hammurapi and AbB 5. The search in all 144,119 lines of OBTC version 2 is available for active users only. The full access will be given to users who are able to contribute transliterated texts which are not yet included in the OBTC, in the scope of AbB 3, i.e. at least 2500 lines of Old Babylonian texts in the electronic form. The active user (member) will obtain a password for the access to the OBTC version 2 (http://www.klinopis. cz/nobtc). A part of the database is formed by a catalogue of cuneiform signs which are attested in some texts from OBTC. At present, there are totally 258 texts (mostly letters, administrative documents and contracts) from several sites (Sippir, Ešnunna, Larsa, Ur, Uruk, Susa) which were studied in this part of the project. Each sign is shown in its main form as well as in variants which occur in the texts. In the catalogue, syllabograms as well as ideograms can be found. The user is allowed to search in the catalogue of cuneiform signs according to several criteria such as the number of the sign in the Borger’s Assyrisch-babylonische Zeichenliste, the traditional designation of the sign as well as its logographic or syllabic reading.

L. Pecha, F. Rahman, The OB Text Corpus Project…

Fig. 1. Searching the collocation ki-ma ni-it(.)-li-ka

Fig. 2. Result of the search

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Fig. 3. Search of a specific museum number

L. Pecha, F. Rahman, The OB Text Corpus Project…

Fig. 4. Result with the full list of information concerning the tablet

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The Project “Duplicazione e Rinascita” Cataloguing of Objects and Texts in Cuneiform from Ancient Mesopotamia Preserved in the Iraq Museum, Baghdad

Serena Ticca, Salvatore Viaggio University of Pisa

The DR project,1 employing the AEC (Electronic Analysis of the Cuneiform) and ENEA’s kima labirišu (‘Like the original’) methodologies, was originally developed for the “Ešnunna Project,” and proceeded with the assistance of a group of dedicated archaeologists and assyriologists coordinated by the University of Pisa’s “Laboratorio di Assiriologia” (Labassi).2 The project developed along four different paths: – the complete cataloguing of cuneiform text, edited in scientific publications;3 – the partial cataloguing of archaeological finds; – the virtual reproduction of tablets and archaeological finds with cuneiform inscription;

1 The Iraq Task Force, which has been based in Iraq since 2003, has increased cooperation with Iraqi authorities significantly: it is a comprehensive cooperation including also a series of training courses for Iraqis in Italy. These courses are scheduled in several professional areas, like healthcare and administration, projects supporting civil society, infrastructure, as well as the preservation and promotion of cultural heritage. They represent an integral part of the Task Force’s general aim which is to support and rebuild the economic and social fabric of Iraq, see for further information: http://www.italyforiraq.it/. 2 For a detailed description of the history and features of the projects see http://www3.humnet.unipi.it/assiriologia/ and the special volume Saporetti, C. (ed.). Il Progetto “Duplicazione e Rinascita”. Supplemento di Geo-Archeologia 2007/1 (with CD ROM in Italian and English). 3 The security situation in Iraq has unfortunately not yet allowed the cataloguing of unpublished texts and archaeological finds and to apply the kima labirišu system in Baghdad. Also for this reason, a training course has been organised within the DR Project. Thanks to this two Iraqi scholars of the Iraq Museum of Baghdad—Basam M. M. al-Dulaimi and Farah S. J. al-Tameemi—have been hosted in Italy and taught the cataloguing techniques of the project; they will then be able to apply the cataloguing system in their home country.

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Presentation of Posters – the creation of tablets’ mould using Rapid Tooling methodology, an industrial process adapted for didactics and scientific use.

The database At the moment ca. 21,000 items (9000 archaeological objects and 12,000 tablets) have been recorded in our database4. The creation of a computerized catalogue intended to contain different types of data has demanded a specific selection of relative information which could be offered together to serve a variety of purposes and simultaneously make the catalogue flexible and easy to use. In this perspective the catalogue aims at reconstructing both the diachronic context (temporal characteristics: function, date, relevant studies) and the synchronic context (spatial characteristics) of the individual document. The aim is to reconstruct the history of the individual archaeological object, its place in a “stratigraphic sequence” as it were, and the contemporary spaces which contained/contain the object, its loci, as it were. Thus for every single document will be recorded: – the archaeological data (field number, provenance site, historical period, object type, dimensions, find spot, an a brief description of their features); – the bibliographical information (text’s genre, history of study, existence of collation, presence of copies or photos, transliteration); – museological information (museum, museum classification, description of conservation’s conditions).

Recording of the fundamental categories object and place of discovery proceed independently, but are correlated and interactive allowing bidirectional access to the documentation from the perspectives of both object and site. With any given document we can thus instantaneously retrieve its past and present history, recover it in its original location or its present situation. This provides a comprehensive overview of the document. The same can be done in reverse: departing from a particular site it is possible to retrieve an individual document and its cultural context.

4

The access to the on-line database is reserved to the staffs of the DR Project and the Iraq Museum, but institutions and single scholars can require a temporary admission, see at http://www3.humnet.unipi.it/assiriologia/ s. v. Duplicazione e Rinascita/On-line database; a list of all IM items entered is available ibidem, s. v. Duplicazione e Rinascita).

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Conscious of the usability of the final product we have employed an application of the Microsoft family (AccessTM), easy to use even for people with limited computer experience. It can also be used in a client-server system, where a central databank controls and sorts the information for direct use on the net. Alternatively it may be stored on a CD-ROM or DVD, in cases where access to the net is difficult or impossible. Kima labirišu Project The ENEA contribution to DR Project is the development of the Project kima labirišu (‘as its original’), experimented by P. Negri Scafa and S. Petronilli since 2001.5 This branch of our project principally aims to the acquisition of museum tablets6 in order to: – contribute to their cataloguing and indexing; – study tablets through CAD 3D models reducing to the minimum their handling; – make joins of tablet fragments easier; – make copies or casts of tablets for educational purposes.

The proposed methodology allows to obtain not only the results indicated above, but also further implementations and developments. The use of different technologies could not result in the same outcome. This methodology is grounded on a group of strictly connected techniques: – the Reverse Engineering (RE); – the Rapid Prototyping (RP) and Rapid Tooling (RT).

The Reverse Engineering is a process of analysis of an object with the goal of creating representations of the object itself in another form or of producing a copy of it. The result is a CAD 3D model, that can be used in further application like:

5

Partial results are also presented at 48th RAI, Leiden 2002, and 51st RAI, Chicago 2005. 6 For the same reasons that have not allowed to catalogue the unpublished tablets, the kima labirišu project could not carry out in Baghdad. However, the system has been experimented with an excellent result on a group of 80 clay tablets of the Old Babylonian period belonging to the private collection of Mr. Alfred Ojeil, for a practical demonstration, see: http://www.tvrit.it/enea/16-04-08%20 Tg3%20leonardo%20ore%2014.50%20-%20raitre.asf.

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Presentation of Posters – cataloguing and indexing texts; in particular it is possible to connect the 3D file with other kinds of files containing data from other sources (index-cards, etc.); – monitoring in time the possible changes of the tablet; these can be mathematically measured, because the acquired 3D image is really a mathematical description.

Rapid Prototyping and Rapid Tooling indicate a group of related technologies that are in use to make objects directly from CAD data sources. This methodology builds objects adding and bonding materials in layers. It is a fast and suitable solution for solving fabrication problems of objects with any geometric complexity or intricacy. The three phases of the kima labirišu Project Phase I Once identified the tablets that have to be analyzed, the main steps of the process are: – digital acquisition of the tablets by a laser scanner; the resulting “clouds of points” are re-assembled and mathematically elaborated. It is possible to see the 3D image of the tablet by CAD and VRML technologies; – creation of a virtual model; – creation of files with database where other data (like index cards) are recorded; – connection of the 3D virtual model to the other files (for instance, the database files of DR Catalogue).

Phase II After the digital acquisition of a tablet it is possible to carry on with further phases, according to the state of the tablets or to the aims and projects of study: – if a tablet is in a bad state, it is possible to study it and project some restore; – if a tablet is fragmentary, it is possible, in particular, to elaborate virtual joins, before attempting real reconstruction; – in this way it is possible also carry on joins of fragments scattered through different Museums: it is possible, in fact, to work on 3D images of the fragments and to obtain a virtual reconstruction of the original tablet; – the scholar, who has to analyze the text, can use the digitalized image, that fully corresponds to the original, can be rotated, magnified, etc., without handling the tablet;

S. Ticca, S. Viaggio, The Project “Duplicazione e Rinascita”

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– it is possible to draw photos by the digitalized images; – it is possible to use the images, digitalized and recorded, to create a web site of the Museum; there is also the possibility of creating informatic ways of access to the archive (protected by passwords), that allow to study the text from another place (for example from the University, or from another town); – if it is necessary to move the tablets (for an exhibition, and so on), it is possible to use the virtual model obtained through the process of Reverse Engineering for the project the most suitable packing.

Phase III Thanks to this digitalized way of recording of the images of the tablets, it is possible in a second time to prepare a real copy of the tablets. In fact we can really re-construct the tablet starting from the 3D mathematic model through the Rapid Prototyping System. Therefore, direct copies in innovative, plastic material or negative copies for casts will be prepared. The “Duplicazione e Rinascita” Project, sharing the spirit of cooperation of the Iraq Task Force, has presented its results to the Iraq Museum, together with the methodology and part of the equipment employed. This will allow results to be used and increased also in the future. The project may also be regarded as a pilot project, potentially extensible to other Iraqi Museums.

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Presentation of Posters

Fig. 1. A snapshot of the DR Project’s database

S. Ticca, S. Viaggio, The Project “Duplicazione e Rinascita”

Fig. 2. A snapshot of the DR Project’s database

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Presentation of Posters

Fig. 3. A snapshot of the DR Project’s database

S. Ticca, S. Viaggio, The Project “Duplicazione e Rinascita”

Fig. 4. A snapshot of the DR Project’s database

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Presentation of Posters

Fig. 5. KL 17: an original clay tablet from the Ojeil collection

S. Ticca, S. Viaggio, The Project “Duplicazione e Rinascita”

Fig. 6. KL 20: an original clay tablet from the Ojeil collection

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Presentation of Posters

Fig. 7. KL 17: A 3D image

S. Ticca, S. Viaggio, The Project “Duplicazione e Rinascita”

Fig. 8. KL 20: a 3D image

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Presentation of Posters

Fig. 9. KL 20: a gypsum copy

Abbreviations of Periodicals, Reference Works, Series, and Sources A. AAA AAB AAICAB

AASF AASOR AB AbB ABC AbhMünchen

ABIM ABL Adab ADD ADFU ADOG AfK AfO AfO Bh AHw. AIHA AION AION Sup

AJ AJA AJPh

Cuneiform tablets from Mari Annals of Archaeology and Anthropology Abhandlungen der Deutschen Akademie der Wissenschaften zu Berlin. Klasse für Sprachen, Literatur und Kunst J.-P. Grégoire. Archives administratives et inscriptions cunéiformes de l’Ashmolean Museum et de la Bodleian Collection d’Oxford. I–IV. Paris, 1996–2002 Annales Academiae Scientiarum Fennicae Annual of the American Schools of Oriental Research Anchor Bible Altbabylonische Briefe in Umschrift und Übersetzung A. K. Grayson. Assyrian and Babylonian Chronicles (TCS 5). Locust Valley–Glückstadt, 1975 Abhandlungen der Bayerischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, Phil.-hist. Klasse A. al-Zeebari. Altbabylonische Briefe des Iraq-Museums. Münster, 1964 R. F. Harper. Assyrian and Babylonian Letters. Chicago, 1892– 1914 = PPAC 1 C. H. Johns. Assyrian Deeds and Documents. I–IV. Cambridge, 1898–1923 Ausgrabungen der Deutschen Forschungsgemeinschaft in Uruk-Warka Abhandlungen der Deutschen Orient-Gesellschaft Archiv für Keilschriftforschung Archiv für Orientforschung Archiv für Orientforschung. Beihefte W. von Soden. Akkadisches Handwörterbuch. I–III. Wiesbaden, 1965–1981 F. Rasheed. The Ancient Inscriptions in Himrin (Himrin 4). Baghdad, 1981 Annali dell’Istituto Orientale di Napoli Annali dell’Instituto Orientale di Napoli. Supplementum Archaeological Journal American Journal of Archaeology American Journal of Philology

1208

AJSL AKA AKT 1 AKT 3 ALASPM AMI AMMK AMT ANET ANES ANLR AnOr AnSt AO AOAT AOATS AOATT AOB AoF AOH AOS ArAn ARES ARET ARM ARMT ArOr ARRIM AS ASJ ASJ Sup

Babel und Bibel 4

American Journal of Semitic Languages and Literatures W. King. The Annals of the Kings of Assyria. I. London, 1902 E. Bilgiç; H. Sever; C. Günbattı; S. Bairam. Ankara Kültepe Tabletleri (Ankaraner Kültepe-Tafeln). I. Ankara, 1990 E. Bilgiç; C. Günbattı. Ankaraner Kültepe-Tafeln. III (FAOS Bh 3). Stuttgart, 1995 Abhandlungen zur Literatur Alt-Syrien–Palästinas und Mesopotamiens Anadolu Medeniyetleri Müzesi Konferansları (Anatolian Civilizations Museum Conferences) Archäologische Mitteilungen aus Iran R. C. Thompson. Assyrian Medical Texts. London, 1923 J. B. Pritchard (ed.). Ancient Near Eastern Texts Relating to the Old Testament. Princeton, 31969 Ancient Near Eastern Studies Academia Nationale dei Lincei. Rendiconti della Classe di Scienze morali, storiche e filologiche Analecta Orientalia Anatolian Studies Antiquités orientales, Louvre Alter Orient und Altes Testament Alter Orient und Altes Testament. Sonderreihe K. R. Veenhof. Aspects of Old Assyrian Trade and Its Terminology (SD 10). Leiden, 1972 Altorientalische Bibliothek Altorientalische Forschungen Acta Orientalia Hungarica American Oriental Series Archivum Anatolicum Archivi reali di Ebla. Studi Archivi reali di Ebla. Testi Archives royals de Mari Archives royales de Mari. Traduction Archiv Orientální Annual Review of the Royal Inscriptions of Mesopotamia Project Assyriological Studies Acta Sumerologica Acta Sumerologica. Supplementum

Abbreviations of Periodicals, Reference Works, and Sources

ASKT ASOR AT ATHE

ATU AUCT AuOr AuOr Sup AUWE AWAS AWEL

AWL Ayanis I

BA(SS) Bab B&B BaF BAH BaM BAM BAOM BASOR BATSH BBR BBSt.

1209

P. Haupt. Akkadische und sumerische Keilschrifttexte. Leipzig, 1881–1882 American Schools of Oriental Research D. Wiseman. The Alalakh Tablets. London, 1953 B. Kienast. Die altassyrischen Texte des Orientalischen Seminars der Universität Heidelberg und die Sammlung Erlenmeyer. Berlin, 1960 Archaische Texte aus Uruk Andrews University Cuneiform Texts Aula Orientalis Aula Orientalis. Supplementa Ausgrabungen in Uruk-Warka. Endberichte G. J. Selz. Altsumerische Wirtschaftsurkunden aus amerikanischen Sammlungen (FAOS 15/2). Stuttgart, 1993 G. J. Selz. Die altsumerischen Verwaltungstexte aus Lagash. I. Die altsumerischen Wirtschaftsurkunden der Eremitage zu Leningrad (FAOS 15/1). Stuttgart, 1989 J. Bauer. Altsumerische Wirtschaftstexte aus Lagasch (StP 9). Rom, 1972 M. Salvini; A. Çilingiroğlu (eds.). Ayanis I. Ten Years’ Excavations at Rusaḫinili Eiduru-kai. 1989–1998 (Documenta Asiana VI). Roma, 2001 Beiträge zur Assyriologie und semitischen Sprachwissenschaft Babyloniaca. Études de philologie assyro-babylonienne Babel und Bibel Baghdader Forschungen Bibliothèque archéologique et historique, Institut Français d’archéologie de Beyrouth Baghdader Mitteilungen F. Köcher. Die babylonisch-assyrische Medizin in Texten und Untersuchungen. Berlin, 1963ff. Bulletin of the Ancient Orient Museum Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research H. Kühne (Hrsg.). Berichte der Ausgrabung Tall Šē¶ Hamad/ Dūr-Katlimmu. Berlin–Wiesbaden, 1991ff. H. Zimmern. Beiträge zur Kenntnis der babylonischen Religion (Assyriologische Bibliothek 12). Leipzig, 1901 L. W. King. Babylonian Boundary Stones and Memorial-Tablets in the British Museum. London, 1912

1210

BBVO BCBO BDB BDTNS BE Belleten Berens BFE

BID Billa BiMes BIN BiOr BJRL BK BM BMECCJ BPOA BRM Brock. BSA BSL BSOAS BT BWL CAD CAH CBS CCT

Babel und Bibel 4

Berliner Beiträge zum Vorderen Orient Biblioteca de ciencias bíblicas y orientales A Hebrew and English Lexicon of the Old Testament by F. Brown, S. R. Driver and Ch. A. Briggs. Oxford, 1907 Base de Datos de Textos Neosumerios (http://bdtns.filol.csic.es) The Babylonian Expedition of the University of Pennsylvania. Series A. Cuneiform Texts Türk Tarih Kurumu. Belleten Th. G. Pinches. The Babylonian Tablets in the Berens Collection (Asiatic Society Monographs 16). London, 1915 M. Krebernik. Die Beschwörungen aus Fara und Ebla. Untersuchungen zur ältesten keilschriftlichen Beschwörungsliteratur (TSO 2). Hildesheim, 1984 W. Farber. Beschwörungsrituale an Ištar und Dumuzi. Wiesbaden, 1977 Cuneiform tablets from Tell Billa Bibliotheca Mesopotamica Babylonian Inscriptions in the Collection of James B. Nies. Yale University, New Haven Bibliotheca Orientalis Bulletin of the John Rylands Library A. de Biberstein-Kazimirski. Dictionnaire arabe-français. I–II. Paris, 1860 Cuneiform tablets from British Museum Bulletin of the Middle Eastern Culture Center in Japan Biblioteca del próximo oriente antiguo Babylonian Records in the Library of J. Pierpont Morgan C. Brockelmann. Lexicon Syriacum. Halle, 1928 Bulletin on Sumerian Agriculture Bulletin de la Société de Linguistique de Paris Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies Babylonische Texte W. G. Lambert. Babylonian Wisdom Literature. Oxford, 1960 The Assyrian Dictionary of the Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago. Chicago, 1956ff. Cambridge Ancient History Cuneiform tablets in the University Museum, Philadelphia Cuneiform Texts from Cappadocian Tablets in the British Museum

Abbreviations of Periodicals, Reference Works, and Sources

CDA CDLB CDLJ CDOG CHANE CHD CHÉU

ChS CILT CIRPL CLAM CM CPOA СРОР CRRAI CSA CST CT CTH CTN CTNMC CUN CUNES CUSAS Dalman2 DAS

1211

J. Black; A. George; N. Postgate. A Concise Dictionary of Akkadian. Wiesbaden, 1999 Cuneiform Digital Library Bulletin Cuneiform Digital Library Journal Colloquien der Deutschen Orient-Gesellschaft Culture and History of the Ancient Near East The Chicago Hittite Dictionary. Chicago, 1980ff. G. Contenau. Contribution à l’histoire économique d’Umma (Bibliothèque de l’École des Hautes Études. IVe section. Sciences philologiques et historiques 219). Paris, 1915 Corpus der hurritischen Sprachdenkmäler Current Issues in Linguistic Theory E. Sollberger. Corpus des inscriptions royales présargoniques de Lagaš. Genève, 1956 M. E. Cohen. The Canonical Lamentations of Ancient Mesopotamia. Potomac, 1988 Cuneiform Monographs Civilisations du Proche-Orient. Série I. Archéologie et Environnement Civilisations du Proche-Orient. Série 2. Philologie Compte rendu, Recontre Assyriologique International Cahiers de la Société Asiatique T. Fish. Catalogue of Sumerian Tablets in the John Rylands Library. Manchester, 1932 Cuneiform Texts from Babylonian Tablets in the British Museum E. Laroche. Catalogue des textes hittites. Paris, 1971 Cuneiform Texts from Nimrud Th. Jacobsen. Cuneiform Texts in the National Museum, Copenhagen. Leiden, 1939 Tablets of the Cornell University Collection Cornell University Near Eastern Studies Cornell University Studies in Assyriology and Sumerology G. H. Dalman. Aramäisch-neuhebräisches Handwörterbuch zu Targum, Talmud und Midrasch. Frankfurt a. M., 1922 B. LaFont. Documents administratifs sumériens, provenant du site de Tello et conservés au Musée du Louvre. Paris, 1985

1212

DB

DBH DCS DD DM DMOA DNWSI DP DRS DS–NELL DUL DV EA Ebla 1975–1985

ECTJ

EDATŠ EI EK EKI EL ELTS

Babel und Bibel 4

The Elamite version of Darius’ trilingual inscription from Behistun (F. H. Weißbach. Die Keilinschriften der Achämeniden. Leipzig, 1911 and G. G. Cameron. JSC 14 (1960):59–68). Dresdner Beiträge zur Hethitologie D. Charpin; J.-M. Durand. Documents cunéiformes de Strasbourg. Paris, 1981 B. Alster. Dumuzi’s Dream. Aspects of Oral Poetry in a Sumerian Myth (Mesopotamia 1). Copenhagen, 1972 E. S. Drower; R. Macuch. A Mandaic Dictionary. Oxford, 1963 Documenta et monumenta Orientis antiqui J. Hoftijzer; K. Jongeling. Dictionary of the North-West Semitic Inscriptions (HdO 21). Leiden–New York–Köln, 1995 M. F. Allotte de la Fuÿe. Documents présargoniques. Paris, 1908– 1920 D. Cohen. Dictionnaire des racines sémitiques ou attestées dans les langues sémitiques. La Haye, 1970ff. Dutch Studies of the Near Eastern Languages and Literature G. Del Olmo Lete; J. Sanmartín. A Dictionary of the Ugaritic Language in the Alphabetic Tradition (HdO 67). Leiden, 2003 = Nik. J. A. Knudtzon. Die El-Amarna Tafeln (VAB 2). Leipzig, 1915 L. Cagni (ed.). Ebla 1975–1985. Napoli, 1987 A. Westenholz. Early Cuneiform Texts in Jena. Pre-Sargonic and Sargonic Documents from Nippur and Fara in the Hilprecht-Sammlung vorderasiatischer Altertümer, Institut für Altertumswissenschaften der Friedrich-Schiller-Universität, Jena. Copenhagen, 1975 F. Pomponio; G. Visicato. Early Dynastic Administrative Tablets of Šuruppak. Napoli, 1994 Eretz-Israel L. Ch. Watelin; S. H. Langdon. Excavations at Kish. Vol. IV (1925–1930). Paris, 1934 F. W. König. Die elamischen Königsinschriften (AfO Bh 16). Graz, 1965 E. Eisser; J. Lewy. Die altassyrischen Rechtsurkunden vom Kültepe. I–II (MVAG 33, 35). Leipzig, 1930, 1935 I. J. Gelb; P. Steinkeller; R. M. Withing. Earliest Land Tenure Systems in the Near East: Ancient Kudurrus (OIP 104). Chicago, 1989

Abbreviations of Periodicals, Reference Works, and Sources

ElW Emar 6 EPSD ERC Mém.

ETCSL FAOS FM FO Fö GAAL GAG3 Gir. GKT GMTR GOF Ir HALAT3 HANE/M HANE/S HchI HdO HED HEG HHB Hirose HKM

HLb

1213

W. Hinz; H. Koch. Elamisches Wörterbuch (AMI Erg. Bd. 17). Berlin, 1987 D. Arnaud. Recherches au pays d’Astata. Emar 6/1–4. Paris, 1986 Electronic Pennsylvania Sumerian Dictionary Project (http:// psd.museum.upenn.edu/epsd/index.html) Édition Recherche sur les Civilisations. Mémoires The Electronic Text Corpus of Sumerian Literature (http:// www-etcsl.orient.ox.ac.uk) Freiburger altorientalische Studien Florilegium Marianum Folia Orientalia U. Förtsch. Altbabylonische Wirtshaftstexte aus der Zeit Lugalbanda’s und Ururkagina’s. Texte 1–195 (VS XIV/1). Leipzig, 1916 Göttinger Arbeitshefte zur altorientalischen Literatur W. von Soden. Grundriss der akkadischen Grammatik (AnOr 33). Roma, 1995 Cuneiform tablets from Giricano K. Hecker. Grammatik der Kültepe-Texte (AnOr 44). Roma, 1969 Guides to the Mesopotamian Textual Record Göttinger Orientforschungen. Reihe 3. Iranica L. Koehler; W. Baumgartner. Hebräisches und Aramäisches Lexikon zum Alten Testament. Leiden, 1991 History of the Ancient Near East/Monographs History of the Ancient Near East/Studies F. W. König. Handbuch der chaldischen Inschriften (AfO Bh 8/1–2). I–II. Graz, 1955–1957 Handbuch der Orientalistik J. Puhvel. Hittite Etymological Dictionary. Berlin, 1984ff. J. Tischler. Hethitisches etymologisches Glossar (IBS 20). Innsbruck, 1977ff. H.-S. Schuster. Die hattisch-hethitischen Bilinguen. Leiden, 1974 T. Gomi; Y. Hirose; K. Hirose. Neo-Sumerian Administrative Texts of Hirose Collection. Potomac, 1990 S. Alp. Maşat-Höyük’te Bulunan Çivi Yazılı Hitit Tabletleri (Hethitische Keilschrifttafeln aus Maşat-Höyük) (TTKY 6/34). Ankara, 1991 Cuneiform tablets in Haverford Library

1214

HLC

HS HSAO HSED HSS HUCA HW

HW2

IAS IBoT IBS ICK 1 ICK 2 IEJ IM IOS IrAnt ISET

Ish. ITT

Ja. JA JAC

Babel und Bibel 4

G. A. Barton (ed.). Haverford Library Collection of Cuneiform Tablets or Documents from the Temple Archives of Tello. I–III. Philadelphia–London, 1905–1914 Hebrew Studies Heidelberger Studien zum Alten Orient V. E. Orel; O. V. Stolbova. Hamito-Semitic Etymological Dictionary. Materials for a Reconstruction (HdO 18). Leiden, 1995 Harvard Semitic Studies Hebrew Union College Annual J. Friedrich. Hethitisches Wörterbuch. Kurzgefasste kritische Sammlung der Deutungen hethitischer Wörter. Lfg. 1–4. Heidelberg, 1 1952–1954, 21991. Erg. Hefte 1–3. Heidelberg, 1957–1966 J. Friedrich; A. Kammenhuber (Hrsg.). Hethitisches Wörterbuch. Zweite, völlig neu bearbeitete Auflage auf der Grundlage der edierten hethitischen Texte. I–III. Heidelberg, 1975–1994 R. D. Biggs. Inscriptions from Tell Abū Salābīkh (OIP 99). Chicago, 1974 Istanbul Arkeoloji Müzelerinde Bulunan Boğazköy Tabletlerinden Seçme Metinler Innsbrucker Beiträge zur Sprachwissenschaft. Vorträge und kleinere Schriften B. Hrozný. Inscriptions cunéiformes de Kültepe. Prague, 1952 L. Matouš. Inscriptions cunéiformes de Kültepe. Prague, 1962 Israel Exploration Journal Cuneiform tablets in the Iraq Museum Israel Oriental Studies Iranica Antiqua S. Kramer; M. Çig; H. Kizilyay. Istanbul Arkeoloji Müzelerinde Bulunan Sumer Edebi Tablet ve Parçaları (Sumerian Literary Tablets and Fragments in the Archaeological Museum of Istanbul). I–II. Ankara, 1969–1976 Cuneiform tablets from Ishchali F. Thureau-Dangin; H. de Genouillac; L. Delaporte. Inventaire des tablettes de Tello, conservées au Musée Impérial Ottoman. I–V. Paris, 1910–1921 M. Jastrow. A Dictionary of the Targumim, the Talmud Babli and Yerushalmi, and the Midrashic Literature. New York, 1926 Journal asiatique Journal of Ancient Civilizations

Abbreviations of Periodicals, Reference Works, and Sources

JANER JANES JAOS JBL JBVO JCS JCS SS JEA JEN

JEOL JESHO JIES JJS JMC JNES JQR JRAS JSOT Sup JS JSS JTT JWG/S K. KAI KAR KAV KB

KBo KL Kraus Texte

1215

Journal of Ancient Near Eastern Religions Journal of the Ancient Near Eastern Society of Columbia University Journal of the American Oriental Society Journal of Biblical Literature Jenaer Beiträge zum Vorderen Orient Journal of Cuneiform Studies Journal of Cuneiform Studies. Supplement Series Journal of Egyptian Archaeology Joint Expedition with the Iraq Museum at Nuzi. American Schools of Oriental Research. Publications of the Baghdad School. Texts Jaarbericht Vooraziatisch-Egyptisch Gezelschap “Ex Oriente Lux” Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient Journal of Indo-European Studies Journal of Jewish Studies Journal des médecines cunéiformes Journal of the Near Eastern Studies Jewish Quarterly Review Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society Journal for the Study of the Old Testament. Supplement Series Journal for Semitics Journal of Semitic Studies Journal of Translation and Text-linguistics Jahrbuch für Wirtschaftsgeschichte. Sonderband Cuneiform tablets from Kuyunjik in British Museum H. Donner; W. Röllig. Kanaanäische und aramäische Inschriften. I–III. Wiesbaden, 1962–1964 E. Ebeling. Keilschrifttexte aus Assur religiösen Inhalts (WVDOG 28, 34). I–II. Leipzig, 1919, 1920–1923 O. Schroeder. Keilschrifttexte aus Assur verschiedenen Inhalts (WVDOG 35). Leipzig, 1920 E. Schrader et al. (Hrsg.). Keilinschriftliche Bibliothek. Sammlung von assyrischen und babylonischen Texten in Umschrift und Übersetzung. Berlin, 1889–1915 Keilschrifttexte aus Boghazköi Cuneiform tablets from Kāmid el-Lōz F. R. Kraus. Texte zur babylonischen Physiognomatik (AfO Bh 3). Berlin, 1939

1216

Kt KTBl KTH KTK KTS 1

KTS 2 KTU2/CAT

KUB KUG KUKN KZ LAK Lane LAPO LAS

LE LHarm LIH Liv LIV2

Babel und Bibel 4

Cuneiform tablets from Kültepe J. Lewy. Die Kültepetexte der Sammlung Rudolf Blanckertz, Berlin. Berlin, 1929 J. Lewy. Die Kültepe-Texte aus der Sammlung Frida Hahn, Berlin. Leipzig, 1930 N. B. Jankovskaja. Klinopisnye teksty iz Kjul’-Tepe v sobranijah SSSR. Moscow, 1968 J. Lewy. Die altassyrischen Texte vom Kültepe bei Kaisarīje. Keilschrifttexte in den Antiken-Museen zu Stambul. Konstantinopel, 1926 V. Donbaz. Keilschrifttexte in den Antiken-Museen zu Stambul (FAOS Bh 2). Stuttgart, 1989 The Cuneiform Alphabetic Texts from Ugarit, Ras Ibn Hani and Other Places (KTU: second, enlarged edition) (ALASPM 8). Münster, 1995 Keilschrifturkunden aus Boghazköi K. Hecker. Die Keilschrifttexte der Universitätsbibliothek Gießen. Gießen, 1966 N. V. Arutjunjan. Korpus urartskih klinoobraznyh nadpisej. Erevan, 2001 Zeitschrift für vergleichende Sprachforschung auf dem Gebiete der indogermanischen Sprachen (Kuhns Zeitschrift) A. Deimel. Liste der Archaischen Keilschriftzeichen (WVDOG 40). Berlin, 1922 W. Lane. An Arabic-English Lexicon. London–Edinburgh, 1863–1893 Littératures anciennes du Proche-Orient S. Parpola. Letters from Assyrian Scholars to the Kings Esarhaddon and Assurbanipal (AOAT 5/1–2). I–II. Neukirchen–Vluyn, 1970–1983 A. Goetze. The Laws of Eshnunna (AASOR 31). New Haven, 1956 A. Goetze. Fifty OB Letters from Harmal. Baghdad, 1958 L. King. The Letters and Inscriptions of Hammurabi. London, 1889–1900 T. G. Pinches. The Cappadocian Tablets Belonging to the Liverpool Institute of Archaeology. AAA 1 (1908):49–80 H. Rix; M. Kümmel. Lexikon der indogermanischen Verben. Wiesbaden, 2001

Abbreviations of Periodicals, Reference Works, and Sources

LKA LKU LSIE LSS LTBA I M. MAD MAH MANE MAOG MARI MBI MBQ MBTU MC MCS MCSA MDOG MDP MEE MHEM MHEO MHET MIO MisEbl MNS MOS St(udies)

Msk MSKH MSL MSL SS MSS

1217

E. Ebeling. Literarische Keilschrifttexte aus Assur. Berlin, 1953 A. Falkenstein. Literarische Keilschrifttexte aus Uruk. Berlin, 1931 Leiden Studies in Indo-European Leipziger Semitistische Studien L. Matouš; W. von Soden. Die lexikalischen Tafelserien der Babylonier und Assyrer in den Berliner Museen. Berlin, 1933 Cuneiform tablets from Mari Materials for the Assyrian Dictionary Cuneiform tablets in Musée d’art et d’histoire (Geneva) Monographs on the Ancient Near East Mitteilungen der Altorientalischen Gesellschaft MARI. Annales de recherches interdisciplinaires G. A. Barton. Miscellaneous Babylonian Inscriptions. I. Sumerian Religious Texts. New Haven, 1918 Cuneiform tablets from Tall al-Munbaqa O. R. Gurney. The Middle Babylonian Legal and Economic Texts from Ur. London–Oxford, 1983 Mesopotamian Civilizations Manchester Cuneiform Studies Mesopotamia. Copenhagen Studies in Assyriology Mitteilungen der Deutschen Orient-Gesellschaft zu Berlin Mémoires de la délégation en Perse Materiali epigrafici di Ebla Mesopotamian History and Environment. Memoirs Mesopotamian History and Environment. Occasional Publications Mesopotamian History and Environment. Texts Mitteilungen des Instituts für Orientforschung Miscellanea Eblaitica Å. Sjöberg. Der Mondgott Nanna-Suen in der sumerischen Überlieferung. I. Texte. Stockholm, 1960 Middle Eastern Studies Program. Leiden–Istanbul, 1999ff. Cuneiform tablets from Meskene Materials and Studies for Kassite History Materials for the Sumerian Lexicon Materials for the Sumerian Lexicon. Supplementary Series Münchener Studien zur Sprachwissenschaft

1218

MSVO MTBM MUSJ MVAG MVN MVSt MZL N. NABU NATN

NBC NCBT ND NEB Nik. 1

Nik. 2

NJPS NRVN N(S)G(U) NTSŠ NYPL OAA OAAS OAIC

Babel und Bibel 4

Materialien zu den frühen Schriftzeugnissen des Vorderen Orients M. Sigrist. Messenger Texts from the British Museum. Potomac, 1990 Mélanges (de la Faculté Orientale) de l’Université Saint-Joseph Mitteilungen der Vorderasiatischen Gesellschaft Materiali per il vocabulario neosumerico Münchener vorderasiatische Studien R. Borger. Mesopotamisches Zeichenlexikon (AOAT 305). Münster, 2004 Cuneiform tablets from Nippur in the University Museum, Philadelphia Nouvelles assyriologiques brèves et utilitaires D. I. Owen. Neo-Sumerian Archival Texts Primarily from Nippur in the University Museum, the Oriental Institute and the Iraq Museum. Winona Lake, 1982 Cuneiform tablets in the Nies Babylonian Collection Cuneiform tablets from Newell Collection Cuneiform tablets from Nimrūd New English Bible M. V. Nikol’skij. Dokumenty hozjajstvennoj otčetnosti drevnejšej epohi Haldei iz sobranija N. P. Lihačeva (Drevnosti Vostočnyja 3/2). St. Petersburg, 1908 M. V. Nikol’skij. Dokumenty hozjajstvennoj otčetnosti drevnej Haldei iz sobranija N. P. Lihačeva. II. Epoha dinastii Agade i epoha dinastii Ura (Drevnosti Vostočnyja 5). Moscow, 1915 New Jewish Publication Society Version M. Çiğ; H. Kızılyay (Hrsg.). Neusumerische Rechts- und Verwaltungsurkunden aus Nippur. I (TTKY VI/7). Ankara, 1965 A. Falkenstein. Die neusumerischen Gerichtsurkunden. I–III (AbhMünchen NF 39–40, 44). München, 1956–1957 R. Jestin. Nouvelles tablettes sumériennes de Šuruppak au Musée d’Istanbul. Paris, 1957 H. Sauren. Les tablettes cunéiformes de l’Époque d’Ur de la New York Public Library (PIOL 19). Leuven, 1978 Old Assyrian Archives Old Assyrian Archives. Studies I. J. GeIb. Old Akkadian Inscriptions in Chicago Natural History Museum. Chicago, 1955

Abbreviations of Periodicals, Reference Works, and Sources

OBCh OBE OBO OBOSA OBT(I) OBTR OECT OES OIP OIS OJA OLA OLP OLZ OM OMRO OPBF OP(SN)KF

Or. Or O(r)A(nt) Or NS Or SP OrSu OSP 1

OSP 2

Pant..Bab. PBS

1219

Orientalia Biblica et Christiana U. Jeyes. Old Babylonian Extispicy: Omen Texts in British Museum. Istanbul, 1989 Orbis Biblicus et Orientalis Orbis Biblicus et Orientalis. Series Archaeologica S. Greengus. Old Babylonian Tablets from Ishchali and Vicinity (PIHANS 44). Istanbul, 1979 St. Dalley; C. B. F. Walker; J. D. Hawkins. The Old Babylonian Tablets from Tell al Rimah. Hertford, 1976 Oxford Editions of Cuneiform Texts Oriental Explorations and Studies Oriental Institute Publications Oriental Institute Studies Oxford Journal of Archaeology Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta Orientalia Lovaniensia Periodica Orientalistische Literaturzeitung Oxbow Monograph Oudheidekundige Mededelingen uit het Rijksmuseum van Oudheden te Leiden Occasional Publications of the Babylonian Fund Occasional Publications of the Samuel Noah Kramer Fund Cuneiform tablets from Ortaköy Orientalia Oriens antiquus Orientalia. Nova Series Orientalia. Series Prior Orientalia Suecana Aa. Westenholz. Old Sumerian and Old Akkadian Texts in Philadelphia, Chiefly from Nippur. I. Literary and Lexical Texts and the Earliest Administrative Documents from Nippur (BiMes 1). Malibu, 1975 Aa. Westenholz. Old Sumerian and Old Akkadian Texts in Philadelphia, Chiefly from Nippur. II. The “Akkadian Texts”, the Enlilemaba Texts, and the Onion Archive (Carsten Niebuhr Institute Publications 3). Copenhagen, 1987 A. Deimel. Pantheon Babylonicum. Roma, 1914 University of Pennsylvania, Publications of the Babylonian Section

1220

PdP PDT 1

PDT 2 PEF PEQ PIHANS PIOL PNA PPAC 1 Prag PRAK Princeton 1

PRU PSBA PSD PW QGS QuSem RA RB RE

RÉJ RÉS RGTC RHA RIM RIMA RIMB

Babel und Bibel 4

La parola del passato M. Çiğ; H. Kızılyay; A. Salonen. Die Puzriš-Dagan-Texte der Istanbuler Archäologischen Museen. I (AASF B 92). Helsinki, 1954 F. Yıldız; T. Gomi. Die Puzriš-Dagan-Texte der Istanbuler Archäologischen Museen. II (FAOS 16). Stuttgart, 1988 Palestine Exploration Fund Palestine Exploration Quarterly Publications de l’Institut historique et archéologique néerlandais de Stamboul Publications de l’Institut Orientaliste de Louvain K. Radner (ed.). The Prosopography of the Neo-Assyrian Empire. Helsinki, 1998ff. Yang Zhi. Sargonic Inscriptions from Adab. Changchun, 1989 K. Hecker; G. Kryszat; L. Matouš. Kappadokische Keilschrifttafeln aus der Sammlung Karlsuniversität Prag. Praha, 1998 H. de Genouillac. Premières recherches archéologiques à Kich. Mission d’Henri de Genouillac 1911–1912. I–II. Paris, 1924–1925 R. M. Sigrist. Tablettes du Princeton Theological Seminary: Epoque d’Ur III (OPKF 10). Philadelphia, 1997 Palais royal d’Ugarit Proceedings of the Society of Biblical Archaeology The Pennsylvania Sumerian Dictionary. Philadelphia, 1984ff. A. Pauly; G. Wissowa. Realencyclopädie der klassischen Altertumswissenschaft. Stuttgart, 1894ff. Quaderni di geografica storica Quaderni di Semitistica Revue d’assyriologie et d’archéologie orientale Revue biblique Cuneiform tablets from Emar in the collection of Jonathan Rosen (G. Beckman. Texts from the Vicinity of Emar in the Collection of Jonathan Rosen. Padova, 1996) Revue des études juives Répertoire d’épigraphie sémitique Répertoire géographique des textes cunéiformes Revue hittite et asianique Royal Inscriptions of Mesopotamia Royal Inscriptions of Mesopotamia. Assyrian Periods Royal Inscriptions of Mesopotamia. Babylonian Periods

Abbreviations of Periodicals, Reference Works, and Sources

RIME RlA Rm. Rochester ROM RS (RŠ) RSF RSO RSO(u) RT RTC SA SAA SAAB SAACT SAALT SAAS SAB

SACT

SAKF

SAKI SANE SANTAG SAOC SAT SBAW

1221

The Royal Inscriptions of Mesopotamia. Early Periods Reallexikon der Assyriologie und vorderasiatische Archäologie. Berlin, 1932ff. Cuneiform tablets in British Museum excavated by H. Rassam M. Sigrist. Documents from Tablet Collections in Rochester, New York. Bethesda, 1991 Cuneiform tablets in Royal Ontario Museum Cuneiform tablets from Ras Šamra Rivista di studi fenici Rivista degli Studi Orientali Publication de la Mission Française Archéologique de Ras Shamra–Ougarit Recueil de traveaux rélatifs à la philologie et à l’archéologie égyptiennes et assyriennes F. Thureau-Dangin. Recueil de tablettes chaldéennes. Paris, 1903 C.-F. Jean. Šumer et Akkad. Contribution à l’histoire de la civilisation sans la basse Mésopotamie. Paris, 1923 State Archives of Assyria State Archives of Assyria Bulletin State Archives of Assyria. Cuneiform Texts State Archives of Assyria. Literary Texts State Archives of Assyria. Studies B. Kienast; K. Volk. Die sumerischen und akkadischen Briefe des III. Jahrtausends aus der Zeit vor der III. Dynastie von Ur (FAOS 19). Stuttgart, 1995 Sh. T. Kang. Sumerian and Akkadian Cuneiform Texts in the Collection of the World Heritage Museum of the University of Illinois. I–II. Urbana, 1972–1973 K. Oberhuber. Sumerische und akkadische Keilschriftdenkmäler des Archäologischen Museums zu Florenz (Innsbrucker Beiträge zur Kulturwissenschaft. Sonderheft 7–8). Innsbruck, 1958–1960 F. Thureau-Dangin. Die sumerischen und akkadischen Königsinschriften (VAB I). Leipzig, 1907 Sources of the Ancient Near East SANTAG. Arbeiten und Untersuchungen zur Keilschriftkunde Studies in Ancient Oriental Civilization Sumerian Archival Texts Sitzungsberichte der Bayerischen Akademie der Wissenschaften in München. Phil.-hist. Klasse

1222 SBL WAW

SCCNH SD(IOAP) SDB SED I SED II SEL SET

SF SHAW ShA 1 ShT SK SKL SKST SLB SLT SMEA SNAT SpTU SRT SRU

SS SSLL

Babel und Bibel 4

Society of Biblical Literature. Writings from the Ancient World Series Studies on the Civilization and Culture of Nuzi and the Hurrians Studia et documenta ad iura Orientis antiqui pertinentia Supplément au dictionaire de la Bible. Paris, 1928ff. A. Militarev; L. Kogan. Semitic Etymological Dictionary. I. Anatomy of Man and Animals (AOAT 278/1). Münster, 2000 A. Militarev; L. Kogan. Semitic Etymological Dictionary. II. Animal Names (AOAT 278/2). Münster, 2005 Studi epigrafici e linguistici T. B. Jones; J. W. Snyder. Sumerian Economic Texts from the Third Ur Dynasty. A Catalogue and Discussion of Documents from Various Collections. Minneapolis, 1961 A. Deimel. Schultexte aus Fara (WVDOG 43). Leipzig, 1923 Sitzungsberichte der Heidelberger Akademie der Wissenschaften, Phil.-hist. Klasse J. Eidem; J. Læssøe. The Shemshara Archives. 1. The Letters. Copenhagen, 2001 J. Læssøe. The Shemshāra Tablets. A Preliminary Report. Copenhagen, 1959 H. Zimmern. Sumerische Kultlieder aus altbabylonischer Zeit. I– II. Leipzig, 1912–1913 Th. Jacobsen. The Sumerian King List (AS 11). Chicago, 1939 Suomalaisen Kirjallisuuden Seuran Toimituksia Studia ad tabulas cuneiformes a de Liagre Böhl collectas pertinentia E. Chiera. Sumerian Lexical Texts from the Temple School of Nippur (OIP 11). Chicago, 1929 Studi Micenei ed Egeo-Anatolici T. Gomi; S. Sato. Selected Neo-Sumerian Administrative Texts from the British Museum. Chiba, 1990 Spätbabylonische Texte aus Uruk E. Chiera. Sumerian Religious Texts. Upland, 1924 D. O. Edzard. Sumerische Rechtsurkunden des III. Jahrtausends: aus der Zeit vor der III. Dynastie von Ur (AbhMünchen NF 67). München, 1968 Studi semitici Studies in Semitic Languages and Linguistics

Abbreviations of Periodicals, Reference Works, and Sources

SS NS SSN SSS SSU STA

StAT StBoT StEb STH StOr StP (SM) Streck Asb.

STT STVC ŠL T. Taanach

TAD TAPA TB T(CA)BI TC TCL TCS TCTI

TÉL

1223

Studi semitici. Nuova serie Studia Semitica Neerlandiсa Semitic Study Series Studia Semitica Upsaliensia E. Chiera. Selected Temple Accounts from Telloh, Yokha and Drehem. Cuneiform Tablets in the Library of Princeton University. Philadelphia, 1922 Studien zu den Assur-Texten Studien zu den Bogazköy-Texten Studi Eblaiti M. I. Hussey. Sumerian Tablets in the Harvard Semitic Museum. I–II (HSS 3–4). Cambridge, 1912–1915 Studia Orientalia Studia Pohl (Series Maior) M. Streck. Assurbanipal und die letzten assyrischen Könige bis zum Untergange Niniveh’s (VAB 7). Leipzig, 1916 O. Gurney; J. Finkelstein. The Sultantepe Tablets. I–II. London, 1957–1964 E. Chiera. Sumerian Texts of Varied Contents (OIP 16). Chicago, 1934 A. Deimel. Šumerisches Lexikon. I–IV. Rom, 1925–1950 Cuneiform tablets from Tulūl al-‛Aqar (Kār-Tukultī-Ninurta) Taanach letters (W. Horowitz; T. Oshima. Cuneiform in Canaan. Cuneiform Sources from the Land of Israel in Ancient Times. Jerusalem, 2006) S. Langdon. Tablets from the Archives of Drehem. Paris, 1911 Transactions of the American Philological Association Cuneiform tablets from Tell Brāk F. Pomponio et al. (eds.). Tavolette cuneiformi di Adab delle Collezioni della Banca d’Italia. Roma, 2006 Tablettes cappadociennes du Louvre Textes cunéiformes du Louvre Texts from Cuneiforms Sources B. Lafont; F. Yıldız. Tablettes cunéiformes de Tello au Musée d’Istanbul datant de l’époque de la IIIe Dynastie d’Ur (PIHANS 65–77). Istanbul, 1989–1996 Ch. Virolleaud; M. Lambert. Tablettes économiques de Lagash (époque de la IIIe dynastie d’Ur). Paris, 1968

1224

TEM TENUS Thompson Rep.

TIM ТJAMC

TM TMH

TPAK TPTS TrD TRU TSA TSABR TSL TSO TSŠ TSU TTC TTKY TUAT TUT

Babel und Bibel 4

M. Birot. Textes économiques de Mari (III). RA 49 (1955): 15–31 M. Sigrist. Textes économiques néo-sumériens de l’Université de Syracuse (ERC Mém. 29). Paris, 1983 R. C. Thompson. The Reports of the Magicians and Astrologers of Nineveh and Babylon in the British Museum. I–II. London, 1900 Texts in the Iraq Museum E. Szlechter. Tablettes juridiques et administratives de la IIIe dynastie d’Ur et de la Ire dynastie de Babylone, conservées au Musée de l’Université de Manchester et à Cambridge, au Musée Fitzwilliam, à l’Institut d’Études Orientales et à l’Institut d’Égyptologie. I– II. Paris, 1963 Cuneiform tablets from Tell Mardī¶ (Ebla) Texte und Materialien der Frau Professor Hilprecht Collection of Babylonian Antiquities im Eigentum der Friedrich Schiller-Universität Jena C. Michel; P. Garelli. Tablettes paléo-assyriennes de Kültepe. I (Kt 90/k). Paris, 1997 M. Sigrist. Tablettes du Princeton Theological Seminary. Époque d’Ur III (OPKF 10). Philadelphia, 1990 H. de Genouillac. La trouvaille de Dréhem. Paris, 1911 L. Legrain. Le temps des rois d’Ur. Paris, 1912 H. de Genouillac. Tablettes sumériennes archaïques: matériaux pour servir à l’histoire de la société sumérienne. Paris, 1909 D. Arnaud. Textes syriens de l’âge du Bronze récent (AuOr Sup 1). Barcelona, 1991 Typological Studies in Language Texte und Studien zur Orientalistik R. Jestin. Tablettes sumériennes de Šuruppak conservées au Musée de Stamboul. Paris, 1937 H. Limet. Textes sumériennes de la IIIe dynastie d’Ur (Épigraphie 1). Bruxelles, 1976 C. Michel. Réédition des «Trente Tablettes ‘Cappadociennes’ de G. Contenau». RA 80 (1986):105–136 Türk Tarih Kurumu Yayınları Texte aus der Umwelt des Alten Testaments G. Reisner. Tempelurkunden aus Telloh. Berlin, 1901

Abbreviations of Periodicals, Reference Works, and Sources

TYBC UAVA UCP UDT

UE

UET UF Ug. UKN UM UMTBM 1

UNT USP UT(AM)I I UT(AM)I II UT(AM)I III UT(AM)I IV UT(AM)I V UT(AM)I VI

1225

Texts from the Yale Babylonian Collection Untersuchungen zur Assyriologie und vorderasiatischen Archäologie University of California Publications in Semitic Philology J. Nies. Ur Dynasty Tablets. Texts Chiefly from Tello and Drehem Written During the Reigns of Dungi, Bur-Sin, Gimil-Sin, and IbiSin (Assyriologische Bibliothek 25). Leipzig, 1920 Ur Excavations. Publications of the Joint Expedition of the British Museum and of the University Museum, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, to Mesopotamia Ur Excavations. Texts Ugarit-Forschungen Ugaritica G. A. Melikišvili. Urartskie klinoobraznye nadpisi. Moscow, 1960 Cuneiform tablets in the University Museum, Philadelphia F. d’Agostino; F. Pomponio. Umma Messenger Texts in the British Museum. I (Nisaba 1). Messina, 2002 H. Waetzold. Untersuchungen zur neusumerischen Textilindustrie (Studi economici e technologici 1). Roma, 1972 B. R. Foster. Umma in the Sargonic Period (Memoirs of the Connecticut Academy of Arts and Sciences 20). Hamden, 1982 F. Yıldız; H. Waetzold, H. Renner. Die Umma-Texte aus den Archäologischen Museen zu Istanbul. I (MVN 14). Roma, 1988 H. Waetzold; F. Yıldız; H. Renner. Die Umma-Texte aus den Archäologischen Museen zu Istanbul. II (MVN 16). Roma, 1994 F. Yıldız; T. Gomi. Die Umma-Texte aus den Archäologischen Museen zu Istanbul. III. Bethesda, 1993 T. Gomi; F. Yıldız. Die Umma-Texte aus den Archäologischen Museen zu Istanbul. IV. Bethesda, 1997 F. Yıldız; T. Ozaki. Die Umma-Texte aus den Archäologischen Museen zu Istanbul. V. Bethesda, 2000 T. Ozaki; F. Yıldız. Die Umma-Texte aus den Archäologischen Museen zu Istanbul. VI. Bethesda, 2001

1226

V(A)S VA(T) VAB VBoT VDI VO VT WB WF WMAH WO WOO WTM WVDOG WZKM YBC YNER YOS ZA ZA(B)R ZÄS ZAW ZDMG ZDPV ZKM ZVS

Babel und Bibel 4

Vorderasiatische Schriftdenkmäler der Königlichen (Staatlichen) Museen zu Berlin Cuneiform tablets in Vorderasiatische Abteilung, Tontafelsammlung. Staatliche Museen zu Berlin Vorderasiatische Bibliothek A. Götze. Verstreute Boghazköy-Texte. Marburg, 1930 Vestnik drevney istorii Vicino Oriente Vetus Testamentum Cuneiform tablets in Weld-Blundell Collection, Ashmolean Museum, Oxford A. Deimel. Wirtschaftstexte aus Fara (WVDOG 45). Leipzig, 1924 H. Sauren. Wirtschaftsurkunden aus der Zeit der III. Dynastie von Ur im Besitz des Musée d’art et d’histoire in Genf. Neapel, 1969 Die Welt des Orients Wiener Offene Orientalistik J. Levy. Neuhebräisches und Chaldäisches Wörterbuch über die Talmudim und Midraschim. Leipzig, 1876 Wissenschaftliche Veröffentlichungen der Deutschen Orientgesellschaft Wiener Zeitschrift für die Kunde des Morgenlandes Cuneiform tablets in Yale Babylonian Collection Yale Near Eastern Researches Yale Oriental Series. Babylonian Texts Zeitschrift für Assyriologie und vorderasiatische Archäologie Zeitschrift für altorientalische und biblische Rechtsgeschichte Zeitschrift für ägyptischen Sprache und Altertumskunde Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft Zeitschrift der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft Zeitschrift des Deutschen Palästinavereins Zeitschrift für die Kunde des Morgenlandes Zeitschrift für vergleichende Sprachforschung