Tradition and Innovation in the Ancient Near East: Proceedings of the 57th Rencontre Assyriologique International at Rome, 4-8 July 2011 9781575063584

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Tradition and Innovation in the Ancient Near East

Tradition and Innovation in the Ancient Near East Proceedings of the 57th Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale at Rome 4–8 July 2011

edited by

Alfonso Archi in collaboration with Armando Bramanti

Early Byzantine mosaic from the Hama Museum

Winona Lake, Indiana Eisenbrauns 2015

© 2015 by Eisenbrauns Inc. All rights reserved Printed in the United States of America www.eisenbrauns.com

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Rencontre assyriologique internationale (57th : 2011 : Rome, Italy) Tradition and innovation in the ancient Near East : proceedings of the 57th Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale at Rome 4–8 July 2011 / edited by Alfonso Archi in collaboration with Armando Bremanti.     pages cm Includes bibliographical references. ISBN 978-1-57506-313-3 (hardback : alk. paper) 1.  Middle East  Civilization—To 622—Congresses.  2.  Middle East— History—To 622—Congresses.  3. Assyriology—Congresses.  I. Archi, Alfonso.  II.  Bremanti, Armando.  III.  Title.  IV.  Title: Proceedings of the 57th Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale at Rome 4–8 July 2011. DS56.R46 2011 935—dc23 2014033751 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 Foreword . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   ix Abbreviations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   xi Program . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   xvii

Part 1

Opening Lectures Rückwärts schauend in die Zukunft: Utopien des Alten Orients . . . . . . .    3 Stefan M. Maul Law and Literature in the Third Millennium b.c. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   13 Claus Wilcke The Soul in the Stele? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   49 J. David Hawkins

Part 2

Papers Myth and Ritual through Tradition and Innovation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Dina Katz A Tale of Twin Cities: Archaeology and the Sumerian King List . . . . . . . Petr Charvát Where are the Uruk Necropoles? Regional Innovation or Change in Tradition for Northern Mesopotamia . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Jesús Gil Fuensanta and Eduardo Crivelli Changes Through Time: The Pit F Sequence at Ur Revisited . . . . . . . . . Giacomo Benati Reading Figurines from Ancient Urkeš (2450 b.c.e.) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Rick Hauser Wooden Carvings of Ebla: Some Open Questions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Rita Dolce The Aesthetic Lexicon of Ebla’s Composite Art during the Age of the Archives . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Marco Ramazzotti DUGURASU = rw-ḥꜢwt . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Alessandro Roccati More on Pre-Sargonic Umma . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Salvatore F. Monaco v

  59   75   81   91   105   121   135   155   161

vi

Contents

Professional Figures and Administrative Roles in the Garden (ĝeškiri6) Management of Ur III Ĝirsu . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Angela Greco Tradition and Innovation in Šulgi’s Concept of Divine Kingship . . . . . . . Luděk Vacín Bemerkungen zur Entwicklung der Beschwörungen des Marduk-Ea-Typs: Die Rolle Enlils . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Manuel Ceccarelli Prophecy in the Mari Texts as an Innovative Development . . . . . . . . . . Herbert B. Huffmon Mathematical Lists: From Archiving to Innovation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Christine Proust Die lexikalische Serie á=idu . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Frauke Weiershäuser The Rituals of Power: The Akkadian Tradition in Neo-Assyrian Policy . . . . Krzysztof Ulanowski Innovation and Tradition within the Sphere of Neo-Assyrian Officialdom . . Melanie Gross Tradition and Innovation in the Neo-Assyrian Reliefs . . . . . . . . . . . . . Nicolas Gillmann Une Armure Expérimentale du Premier Millénaire av. J.-C. . . . . . . . . . Fabrice De Backer A Group of Seals and Seal Impressions from the Neo-Assyrian Colony Tell Masaikh-Kar-Assurnasirpal with More Ancient Motifs . . . . . . Paola Poli Spätbabylonische Urkunden: Original, Kopie, Abschrift . . . . . . . . . . . . Jürgen Lorenz Traditional Claims of an Illustrious Ancestor in Craftsmanship and in Wisdom . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Daniel Bodi New Phraseology and Literary Style in the Babylonian Version of the Achaemenid Inscriptions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Parsa Daneshmand Aspects of Royal Authority and Local Competence: A Perspective from Nuzi . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Anne Löhnert Continuity and Discontinuity in a Nuzi Scribal Family . . . . . . . . . . . . Paola Negri Scafa Mission at Arrapḫa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Dave Deuel Geopolitical Patterns and Connectivity in the Upper Khabur Valley in the Middle Bronze Age . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Alessio Palmisano

  167   179   193   205   215   225   237   251   267   277   289   301   311   321   335   345   355   369

Contents Writing Sumerian in the West . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Maurizio Viano Territorial Administration in Alalaḫ during Level IV . . . . . . . . . . . . . Alvise Matessi Reciprocity and Commerce in Bronze and Iron Age Anatolia . . . . . . . . . H. Craig Melchert Hittite Clitic Doubling as an Innovative Category: Its Origin . . . . . . . . . Andrej V. Sideltsev Memory and Tradition of the Hittite Empire in the post-Hittite Period . . . . Maria Elena Balza and Clelia Mora Fortifications and Arming as Analytical Elements for a Social-Policy Evolution in Anatolia in the Early Bronze Age . . . . . Tommaso De Vincenzi Amurru in der königlichen Ideologie und Tradition: von Ebla bis Israel . . . Pavel Čech The Assyrian Tree of Life and the Jewish Menorah . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Christos G. Karagiannis The Ponderal Systems of Qatna . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Luigi Turri French Excavations in Qasr Shemamok-Kilizu (Iraqi Kurdistan): The First Mission (2011) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Olivier Rouault and Maria Grazia Masetti-Rouault The Present in Our Past: The Assyrian Rock Reliefs at Nahr El-Kalb and the Lessons of Tradition . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ann Shafer Oriental Studies and Fascism in Spain . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Agnès Garcia-Ventura and Jordi Vidal

vii   381   393   409   417   427   439   449   459   471   481   491   501

Part 3

Workshop: From Parents to Children From Parents to Children: Ebla . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Alfonso Archi Family Firms in the Ur III Period . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Steven J. Garfinkle A Chip Off the Old Block: The Transmission of Titles and Offices within the Family in Old Babylonian Sippar . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Michel Tanret The Tradition of Professions within Families at Nuzi . . . . . . . . . . . . . Jeanette C. Fincke Crafts and Craftsmen at Ugarit . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Wilfred van Soldt

  511   517   525   555   567

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Contents

Hereditary Transmission of Specialized Knowledge in Hittite Anatolia: The Case of the Scribal Families of the Empire Period . . . . . . . .   577 Giulia Torri The Transmission of Offices, Professions, and Crafts within the Family in the Neo-Assyrian Period . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   587 Heather D. Baker Families, Officialdom, and Families of Royal Officials in Chaldean and Achaemenid Babylonia . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   597 M. Jursa

Foreword The Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale met for the first time in Rome in 1974 at the Pontifical Biblical Institute, with which the Istituto di Studi del Vicino Oriente of the Università di Roma was associated in organizing the meeting. After more than 35 years, it is Sapienza Università di Roma which has had the task of bringing the Rencontre back to Rome. About 500 participants registered for this meeting. A broad theme such as “Tradition and Innovation in the Ancient Near East” had the advantage of allowing many colleagues to present their contributions (which numbered 100), reflecting different approaches to the topic. Four workshops were also organized: “From Parents to Children” (papers are included in this volume); “Sumerian and Akkadian Linguistics”; “Artisans and Professions in the Ur III Period”; “Social Theory and the Terminology for Political Formations in the Ancient Near East,” with a total of another 28 papers. Furthermore, a meeting was arranged in collaboration with Associazione Bancaria Italiana (ABI), in which assyriologists, classicists, and economists discussed 5 papers. The Pontifical Biblical Institute hosted a reception for the participants of the Congress on the occasion of the General Meeting. The Musei del Comune di Roma offered participants the opportunity to visit the Museo dell’Ara Pacis and of Mercati Traianei. The Rencontre could not have been held without the support of the Facoltà di Lettere e Filosofia; the warmest thanks are extended to its dean, Prof. Marta Fattori. Sapienza Università di Roma and the Dipartimento di Scienze dell’Antichità provided funds and administrative support. Additional funds were provided by the Fondazione OrMe–Oriente Mediterraneo and by the Ministero dell’Istruzione, dell’Università e della Ricerca (finanziamento PRIN 2011). I owe a debt of gratitude to Lorenzo Verderame for his collaboration in organizing the Congress and to those students who helped us. Maria Giovanna Biga also offered her kind cooperation. A special word of thanks is due to Eisenbrauns for providing the publication of the these Proceedings.

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Abbreviations AA AAICAB

AASOR ABAW ABD ABL AbP AfO AHw AION AJA AJSL AKK-DB AMI AnOr AnSt AO AOAT AOS ARET ARM ArOr ASJ ASOR AT AuOr AUWE AWAS AWEL AWL BA BaF BaM BAP BAR BASOR BATSH

Archäologischer Anzeiger Gégoire, J. P., Archives administratives et inscriptons cunéiformes de l’Ashmolean Museum et de la Bodleian Collection, Oxford. Les Sources 1–4. Contribution à l’histoire sociale, économique et culturelle du Proche Orient Ancien The Annual of the American Schools of Oriental Research Bayerische Akademie der Wissenschaften. Abhandlungen. Phil.-Hist. Klasse, Neue Folge Anchor Bible Dictionary Harper, R. F., Assyrian and Babylonian Letters Altbabylonische Briefe in Umschrift und Übersetzung Archiv für Orientforschung W. von Soden, Akkadisches Handwörterbuch I-III Annali dell’Istituto Universitario Orientale di Napoli American Journal of Archaeology American Journal of Semitic Languages and Literatures King L. W., and R. C. Thompson, The Sculptures and Inscriptions of Darius the Great on the Rock of Behistun of Persia Archäologische Mitteilungen aus Iran Analecta Orientalia Anatolian Studies tablets in the collections of the Musée du Louvre Alter Orient und Altes Testament American Oriental Series Archivi Reali di Ebla Testi Archives Royales de Mari Archiv Orientální Acta Sumerologica (Japanica) American School of Oriental Research Alalaḫ texts Aula Orientalis Ausgrabungen in Uruk-Warka. Endberichte Selz, G., Altsumerische Wirtschaftsurkunden aus amerikanischen Sammlungen. FAOS 15/2 Selz, G., Die altsumerischen Wirtschaftsurkunden der Eremitage zu Leningrad. FAOS 15/1 Bauer, J., Altsumerische Wirtschaftstexte aus Lagasch. Studia Pohl 9 Babylonische Archive Baghdader Forschungen Baghdader Mitteilungen Meissner, B., Beiträge zum altbabylonischen Privatrecht Biblical Archaeology Review Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research Berichte der Ausgrabung Tall Šēh Hamad/Dūr katlimmu

xi

xii BBVO BBVOT 1 BCT BDHP BE BIFAO BIN BiOr BM BMC BMS BMSAE BPOA BSA BSOAS BT BWL BZAW CAD CAR CDLI CHANE CHLI CM CRAIBL CT CT 54 CTH CTN CTNMH CUNES CUSAS Cyr. Dar. DAS DBH DCS DEPM Di DoCu DP EA

Abbreviations Berliner Beiträge zum Vorderer Orient Arnaud, D., Altbabylonische Rechts- und Verwaltungsurkunden Watson, P. J., Catalogue of Cuneiform Tablets in the Birmingham City Museum Waterman, L., Business Documents of the Ḫammurapi Period from the British Museum Babylonian Expedition of the Univ. of Pennsylvania, Series A: Cuneiform Texts Bulletin de l’Institut français d’Archéologie Orientale, Cairo Babylonian Inscriptions in the Collection of J. B. Nies Bibliotheca Orientalis tablets in the collections of the British Museum Bryn Mawr College King, L. W., Babylonian Magic and Sorcery British Museum Studies in Ancient Egypt and Sudan Biblioteca del Próximo Oriente Antiguo Bulletin on Sumerian Agricolture Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies Brockman Tablets Lambert, W. G., Babylonian Wisdom Literature Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft The Assyrian Dictionary of the Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago Cambridge Historical Review Cuneiform Digital Library Initiative Culture and History of the Ancient Near East Hawkins, J. D., Corpus of Hieroglyphic Luwian Inscriptions Cuneiform Monographs Académie des Inscriptions et Belles Lettres. Comptes rendus Cuneiform Texts from Babylonian Tablets in the British Museum Dietrich M., Neo-Babylonian Letters from the Kuyunjik Collection. Cuneiform Texts in British Museum Laroche, E., Catalogue des textes hittites Cuneiform Texts from Nimrud Jacobsen, Th., Cuneiform Texts in the National Museum, Copenhagen, chiefly of Economical Contents Cornell University (Department of) Near Eastern Studies Cornell University Studies in Assyriology and Sumerology Strassmaier, J. N., Inschriften von Cyrus Strassmaier, J. N., Inschriften von Darius Lafont, B., Documents administratifs sumériens provenant du site de Tello et conservés au Musée du Louvre Dresdner Beiträge zur Hethitologie Charpin, D., and J. M. Durand, Documents cunéiformes de Strasbourg conservés à la Bibliothèque Natiomale et Universitaire. Recherches sur les grandes civilisations 4 Documents épistolaires du Palais de Mari. Vols. 1–3 excavation numbers of the unpublished texts from the archive of the Chief Dirge Singers in Sippar-Amnānum Durand, J.-M., Documents Cuneiformés de la IVe Section de l’École pratique des Hautes Etudes, vol. 1 Allotte de la Fuye, F.M., Documents présargoniques Knudtzon, J. A., Die El-Amarna-Tafeln

Abbreviations

xiii

Al-Rawi, F. N. H., and S. Dalley, Old Babylonian Texts from Private Houses at Abu Habbah EN Excavations at Nuzi Black, J. A., G. Cunningham, J. Ebeling, E. Flückiger-Hawker, E. Robson, ETCSL J. Taylor, and G. Zólomy. The Electronic Text Corpus of Sumerian Literature (http://etcsl.orinst.ox.ac.uk) EVO Egitto e Vicino Oriente FAOS Freiburger Altorientalische Studien Fragments hittites du Louvre FHL FM Florilegium Marianum GAAL Göttinger Arbeitshefte zur Altorientalischen Literatur Gadd, C. J., Tablets from Kirkuk, RA 23 (1926) 49–161 Gadd History of the Ancient Near East Monographs HANEM HdO Handbuch der Orientalistik HED Puhvel, J., Hittite Etymological Dictionary Barton, G. A., Harverford Library Collection of Cuneiform Texts or Documents HLC 3 from the Temple Archives of Telloh tablets in the collections of the Harvard Semitic Studies HSM HSS Harvard Semitic Studies IAS Biggs, R. D., Inscriptions from Tell Abū Ṣalābīkh, OIP 99 Israel Exploration Journal IEJ IM tablets in the collections of the Iraq Museum ITT Inventaire des tablettes de Tello conservées au Musée Impérial Ottoman JAC Journal of Ancient Civilization JANER Journal of Ancient Near Eastern Religions JANES Journal of the Ancient Near Eastern Society JAOS Journal of American Oriental Society JCS Journal of Cuneiform Studies JCS 11 Goetze, A., Old-Babylonian Documents from Sippar in the Collection of the Catholic University of America, JCS 11: 15–40 JCS (Suppl.) Journal of Cuneiform Studies (Supplemental Series) JEN Joint Expedition with the Iraq Museum at Nuzi JEOL Jaarbericht van het Vooraziatisch-Egyptisch Genootschap “Ex Oriente Lux” JESHO Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient JJS Journal of Jewish Studies Journal of Near Eastern Studies JNES JSS Journal Semitic Studies K tablets in the Kouyunjik collection of the British Museum KAL Keilschrifttexte aus Assur literarischen Inhalts KAR Ebeling, E., Keilschrifttexte aus Assur religiösen Inhalts I/II Keilschrifttexte aus Boghazköi KBo Kloekhorst HIL  Kloekhorst. A., Etymological Dictionary of the Hittite Inherited Lexicon Dietrich, M., O. Loretz, and J. Sanmartín, Die keilalphabetischen Texte aus KTU Ugarit Keilschrifturkunden aus Boghazköi KUB LAK Deimel, A., Liste der archaischen Keilschriftzeichen von Fara Lingua Aegyptia LingAeg Ebeling, E., Literarische Keilschrifttexte aus Assur LKA Müller, G. G. W., Londoner Nuzi-Texte. Santag 4 LNT tablets in the collections of the Musée d’Art et d’Histoire (Geneva) MAH MANE Monograps of Ancient Near East. UNDENA MARI Mari Annales de Recherches Interdisciplinaires Edubba 7

xiv

Abbreviations

Speelers, L., Recueil des inscriptions de l’Asie antérieure des Musées Royaux du Cinquantenaire à Bruxelles. Textes sumériens, babyloniens et assyriens. Bruxelles 1925 Neugebauer, O., and A. J. Sachs. Mathematical Cuneiform Texts MCT MDOG Mitteilungen der Deutschen Orient-Gesellschaft zu Berlin MDP 57 Labat, R., and D. O. Edzard, Textes littéraires de Suse. Mèmoires de la Délégation Archéologique en Iran 57 Mémoires de NABU  Mémoires de Nouvelles Assyriologiques Brèves et Utilitaires Dekiere, L., Old Babylonian Real Estate Documents from Sippar in the MHET British Museum MHET I Van Lerberghe, K., and Voet, G., Sippar-Amnānum. The Ur-Utu archive MiscEbl Miscellanea Eblaitica Neugebauer, O., Mathematische Keilschrifttexte I MKT tablets in the collections of the J. Pierpoint Morgan Library MLC MRAH Musées Royaux d’Art et d’Histoire, Bruxelles MS tablets in the Schøyen Collection MSL Materialien zum sumerischen Lexikon; Materials for the Sumerian Lexicon MVN Materiali per il Vocabolario Neo-Sumerico MVS Münchener vorderasiatische Studien NABU Notes Assyriologiques Brèves et Utilitaires NATN D. I. Owen, Neo-Sumerian archival texts Primarily from Nippur in the University Museum, the Oriental Institute and the Iraq Museum tablets in the Babylonian Collection. Yale University Library NBC Nbk. Strassmaier, J. N., Inschriften von Nabukadnezzar Strassmaier, J. N., Inschriften von Nabonidus Npn. field numbers of tablets excavated at Nimrud (Kalhu) ND NG Falkenstein, A., Die neusumerischen Gerichtsurkunden Nikolskij, M. V., Drevnosti Vostočnyja Nik. New Testament Studies NTS OBO Orbis Biblicus et Orientalis OECT Oxford Editions of Cuneiform Texts OIP Oriental Institute Publication OIP 116 Th. A. Holland, and Th. G. Urban eds., The façade, portals, upper register scenes, columns, marginalia, and statuary in the Colonnade Hall. OIP 116 Oriental Institute Seminars OIS Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta OLA OLA 21 Van Lerberghe, K. (in coll. with M. Stol and G. Voet), Old Babylonian Legal and Administartive Texts from Philadelphia Occasional Publication of the Samuel Noah Kramer Fund OPSNKF Or (NS) Orientalia Nova Series OTL Old Testament Library PBS University of Pannsylvania, Publications of the Babylonian Section PdP La Parola del Passato PF Hallock, R. T., Persepolis Fortification Tablets. OIP 92 Uitgaven van het Nederlands Historisch-Archaeologisch Instituut te Istanbul PIHANS Pinches Peek Inscribed Babylonian Tablets in the Possession of Sir Henry Peek PNAE The prosopography of the neo-Assyrian empire Pfeiffer, R.H., and E.A. Speiser, One Hundred New Selected Nuzi Texts. PS AASOR 16 Pennsylvania Sumerian Lexicon PSD QdS Quaderni di Semitistica RA Revue d’Assyriologie et d’Archéologie Orientale MCB

Abbreviations REA RES RGTC RIMA RIME RINAP RlA RMA ROMCT RSO RTC SAA SAAB SAAS SACT SAK SAT I SBL SBLWAW SCCNH SDB SEb SEL SF Si SJOT SMEA SMN SNAT STA StAT StBoT StBoTB STT StudAs TCL TCL 6 TCTI TDP TEBA TEBR THeth TIM TL

xv

Revue de l’Egypte ancienne Revue des études sémitiques Revue des études sémitiques Répertoire Géographique des Textes Cunéiformes Royal Inscriptions of Mesopotamia Assyrian Periods Royal Inscriptions of Mesopotamia Early Periods Royal Inscriptions of the Neo-Assyrian Period Reallexikon der Assyriologie und der Vorderasiatischen Archäologie Thompson, R. C., Reports of Magician and Astrologers of Nineveh and Babylon. The cuneiform texts Royal Ontario Museum Cuneiform Texts Rivista degli Studi Orientali Thureau-Dangin, Fr., Receuil de tablettes chaldéennes State Archives of Assyria State Archives of Assyria Bulletin State Archives of Assyria Studies Kang, S. T., Sumerian Economic Texts from the Drehim Archive Studien zur altägyptischen Kultur Sigrist, M., Sumerian Archival Texts. Texts from the British Museum Society of Biblical Literature SBL Writings from the Ancient World Studies on the Civilization and Culture of Nuzi and the Hurrians Supplément au Dictionnaire de la Bible Studi Eblaiti Studi Epigrafici e Linguistici Deimel, A., Die Inschriften von Fara II: Schultexte aus Fara field numbers of tablets excavated at Sippar in the collections of the Archaeological Museums Istanbul Scandinavian Journal of the Old Testament Studi Micenei ed Egeo-Anatolici tablets excavated at Nuzi, in the Semitic Museum, Harvard University Gomi, T. and S. Sato: Selected Neo-Sumerian Administrative Texts in the British Museum Chiera, E., Selected Temple Accounts from Telloh, Yokha and Drehem. Cuneiform Tablets in the Library of Princeton University Studien zu den Assur-Texten Studien zu den Boğazköy-Texte Studien zu den Boğazköy-Texte. Beiheft Gurney, O. R., J. J. Finkelstein, and P. Hulin, The Sultantepe Tablets Studia Asiana Textes Cunéiformes du Louvre Thureau-Dangin, Fr., Tablettes d’Uruk à l’usage des prêtres du temple d’Anu au temps des Seleucides. Textes Cunéiformes du Louvre Lafont, B., Tablettes Cuneiformes de Tello au Musée d’Istanbul datant de l’époque de la IIIe Dynastie d’Ur I-II. Uitgaven van het Nederlands Historisch-Archeologisch Instituut te Istanbul 65, 77 Labat, R., Traité akkadien de diagnostics et pronostics médicaux Birot, M., Tablettes économiques et administratives d’époque babylonienne ancienne conservées au Musée d’Art et d’Histoire de Genève Durand, J.-M., Textes Babyloniens d’époque récente Texte der Hethiter Texts in the Iraq Museum Kalinka, E., Tituli Asiae Minoris: Tituli Lyciae lingua Lycia conscripti

xvi

Abbreviations

Richardson, S. F C., Texts from the Late Old Babylonian Period ( = JCS Supplement Series, 2) TMH Texte und Materialien der Frau Professor Hilprecht Collection of Babylonian Antiquities in Eigentum der Universität Jena TRU Legrain, L., Le temps des rois d’Ur TSA de Genouillac, H., Tablettes Sumeriennes Archaiques TuM NF Texte und Materialien der Frau Professor Hilprecht Collection of Babylonian Antiquities in Eigentum der Universität Jena, Neue Folge TUT Reisner, G., Tempelurkunden aus Telloh UDT Nies, J. B., Ur Dynasty Tablets, Texts Chiefly from Tello and Drehem, Written during the reign of Dungi, Bur-Sin, Gimil.Sin, and Ibi-Sin UET Ur Excavations Texts UF Ugarit-Forschungen Waetzoldt, H., Untersuchungen zur neosumerischen Textilindustrie UNT Vorderasiatische Bibliothek VAB VAT tablets in the collections of the Staatlichen Museen, Berlin VO Vicino Oriente VS Vorderasiatische Schriftdenkmäler W field numbers of tablets excavated at Warka WO Die Welt des Orients WZKM Wiener Zeitschrift für die Kunde des Morgenlandes YBC tablets in the Babylonian Collection. Yale University Library YNER Yale Near Eastern Researches YOS Yale Oriental Series, Babylonian Texts ZA Zeitschrift für Assyriologie und Vorderasiatische Archäologie ZABR Zeitschrift für Altorientalische und Biblische Rechtgeschichte ZÄS Zeitschrift für Ägyptische Sprache ZDPV Zeitschrift der Deutschen Palästina-Vereins TLOB

Program 1 Sunday 3 July 2011 Ara Pacis (via di Ripetta / Lungotevere in Augusta) 17:00–19:00 Registration and visit

Monday 4 July 2011 Museo dell’Arte Classica (Building Lettere e Filosofia) 9:00 Registration Aula Magna, Rettorato Welcoming session 10:00 Prof. Luigi Frati, Rector of Sapienza–Università di Roma Prof. Marta Fattori, Dean of the Faculty of Arts, Sapienza–Università di Roma Prof. Piotr Michalowski (University of Michigan, Ann Arbor), President of the IAA Opening session Chair: Irene J. Winter (Harvard University) 10.30–11:00 *Claus Wilcke (Universität Leipzig), Law and Literature in the 3rd Millennium b.c. and Beyond 11:00–11:30 *Stefan Maul (Universität Heidelberg), Rückwärts schauend in die Zukunft: Utopien des Alten Orients 11:30–12:00 *John David Hawkins (British Academy), The Soul in the Stele? Aula I (Building Lettere e Filosofia) Chair: Jerrold S. Cooper (The Johns Hopkins University) 14:15–14:45 Joan Goodnik Westenholz (ISAW, New York), Tradition and Innovation in the Legendary Corpus of the Akkadian Kings 14:45–15:15 *Dina Katz (Leiden University), Myth and Ritual–from Tradition to Innovation and Back 15:15–15:45 Jakob Klein (Bar-Ilan University), The Stars (of) Heaven and Cuneiform Writing 16:15–16:45 John Wee (Yale University), Lugalbanda in the Mountain Cave: an Early Mesopotamian Model of Celestial Healing 16:45–17:15 *Petr Charvát (University of West Bohemia), A Tale of Twin Cities–Archaeology and the Sumerian King List 17:15–17:45 Xianhua Wang (Peking University), The Ideological Innovation of Lugalzagesi 1.  *Lectures published in this volume.

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Aula “Partenone” Chair: Mario F. Fales (Università di Udine) 14:15–14:45 *Melanie Groß (Universität Wien), Innovation and Tradition within the Sphere of Neo-Assyrian Officialdom 14:45–15:15 Peter Dubovský (Pontifical Biblical Institute), Neo-Assyrian Intelligence Network: Old Tradition Reshaped by the Sargonic Kings 15:15–15:45 Raija Mattila (University of Helsinki), Late Eponyms–Signs of Change in the Ideology and Administration of the Neo-Assyrian Empire 16:15–16:45 *Frauke Weiershäuser (Universität Heidelberg), Lexical Tradition and Schooltexts in Assur 16:45–17:15 Eleanor Robson (Cambridge University), Scholarly Literacies in First-millennium Assyria and Babylonia 17:15–17:45 Amitai Baruchi-Unna (Hebrew University Jerusalem, Haifa University), Formularies vs. Creativity. Traces of Administrative Documents in Assyrian Royal Inscriptions Aula “Odeion” Chair: Stefania Mazzoni (Università di Firenze) 14:15–14:45 Elizabeth Wheat (University of Birmingham), Labyrinths in Babylonia and the Ancient Near East 14:45–15:15 Astrid Verhulst (Ghent University), It’s All Relative: Old Babylonian Sippar Seals as Markers of Family Tradition 15:15–15:45 Maria Sologubova (Saint-Petersburg State University), Tradition and Innovation in Mesopotamian Glyptic of Kassite Times 16:15–16:45 Karen Sonik (New York University), Symmetry, Frontality, and Small Gods: a Unique Tradition of Representation in the Old Babylonian Terracotta Reliefs? 16:45–17:15 Chikako Watanabe (Osaka Gakuin University), An Innovative Approach to Tracing Environmental Changes in Ancient Mesopotamia: Echohistory of Salinization and Aridification in Iraq Caffè delle Arti 19:45 Reception

Tuesday 5 July 2011 Aula I Chair: T.J.H. Krispijn (Leiden University) 9:15–9:45 *Salvatore Monaco, More on Pre-Sargonic Umma 9:45–10:15 Richard E. Averbeck (Trinity Evangelical Divinity School), Temple Estate and Clan Region in Gudea’s Lagash 10:15–10:45 *Luděk Vacín (Max Planck Institute for the History of Science, Berlin), Tradition and Innovation in Shulgi’s Concept of Divine Kingship

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Chair: Grant Frame (University of Pennsylvania) 11:15–11:45 *Manuel Ceccarelli (Universität Tübingen), Einige Bemerkungen zur Entwicklung der Beschwörungen des “Marduk-Ea-Typs”: die Rolle Ellils 11:45–12:15 Vladimir Emelianov (St.-Petersburg State University), Formula of Isin Hymns as the Source of the Dating of Sumerian Narrative Compositions 12:15–12:45 Simonetta Ponchia (Università di Verona), Composition and Ermeneutics: Looking for Elaboration Strategies in Assyro-Babylonian Literary Texts Chair: Annette Zgoll (Universität Göttingen) 14:15–14:45 Gabriel Gösta Ingvar (Universität Göttingen), The Rise of Marduk in Enuma Elish Between Tradition and Innovation 14:45–15:15 Anastasia Moskaleva (Saint Petersburg State University), Protective Formula in Mesopotamian Royal Inscriptions (III-II mil. BC) 15:15–15:45 Rosel Pientka-Hinz (Universität Marburg), Dances with Snakes Chair: Jesper Eidem (Leiden University) 16:15–16:45 Piotr Michalowski (University of Michigan, Ann Arbor), Literary Arrest and Movement in Old Babylonian Schooling 16:45–17:15 Katrien De Graef (Ghent University), Being One’s Brother’s Keeper? Brotherhood Adoptions in Old Babylonian Susa and Elsewhere Reconsidered 17:15–17:45 Lotte Oers, Pledge of Suseans–Babylonian Tradition and Elamite Innovation Concerning Economic Security in Old Babylonian Susa 17:45–18:15 Ilya Arkhipov (Russian Academy of Sciences), La notion de šurubtum (mu-DU) dans la comptabilité paléobabylonienne Aula “Odeion” Chair: Barbara Nevling Porter (Casco Bay Assyriological Institute) 9:15–9:45 Aaron Schmitt (Johannes Gutenberg-Universität Mainz), Tradition und Wandel in Assyrien am Beispiel der Ischtar-Tempel in Assur 9:45–10:15 Maria Gabriella Micale (Sapienza–Università di Roma), Images of Architecture in Neo-Assyrian Reliefs: Perception and Reproduction of Architectural Space over Three Centuries 10:15–10:45 David Kertai (Universität Heidelberg), Sleeping Through Change. The King’s Suite in Late Assyrian Royal Palaces 11:15–11:45 *Nicolas Gillmann (UMR), Innovation and Tradition in NeoAssyrian Iconography 11:45–12:15 *Paola Poli (Università di Ferrara), A Group of Seals and Seal Impressions from the Neo-Assyrian Colony Tell Masaikh-KarAssurnasirpal with Ancient Motifs 12:15–12:45 Silvana Di Paolo (ICEVO-CNR), Urartu vs. Assyria: Reconsidering Concepts of Imitation, Emulation, Interpretation in Art

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Program Chair: Lorenzo Nigro (Sapienza–Università di Roma) 14:15–14:45 *Jesús Gil Fuensanta (Universidad Autónoma de Madrid), Where are the Uruk Necropolis? Regional Innovation or Change in Tradition? 14:45–15:15 *Giacomo Benati (Università di Torino), Changes through Time: the Pit F Sequence at Ur Revisited 15:15–15:45 *Rick Hauser (IIMAS), Reading Figurines: Animals Representations in Terra Cotta from Urkesh, the First Hurrian Capital (2450 BCE) 16:15–16:45 Enrico Ascalone (Sapienza–Università di Roma), Awan vs Akkad. Origin and Formation of an Elamite Style and Iconography 16:45–17:15 *Ann Shafer (The American University in Cairo), The present in the Past: the Nahr el-Kalb Reliefs and the Continuity of Tradition? 17:15–17:45 Nicolò Marchetti (Università di Bologna), Diachronic Changes in the Bronze and Iron Ages Occupation Patterns at Tasli Geçit Hoyuk (Islahiye, Turkey) 17:45–18:15 *Luigi Turri (Università di Udine), The Ponderal System(s) at Qatna

Aula Vetri — Officina: from Parents to Children Chair: Alfonso Archi (Sapienza–Università di Roma) 9:15–9:45 *Alfonso Archi, Presentation: Ebla 9:45–10:15 *Steven Garfinkle (Western Washington University), Family Firms in the Ur III Period 10:15–10:45 *Michel Tanret (Ghent University), Old Babylonian Sippar and the Transmission of Titles/Crafts within Families Chair: Michel Tanret 11:15–11:45 *Jeanette Fincke (Leiden University), Profession and Family in Nuzi 11:45–12:15 *Wilfred van Soldt (Leiden University), Crafts and Craftsmen at Ugarit 12:15–12:45 *Giulia Torri (Università di Firenze), Hereditary Transmission of Specialized Knowledge in Hittite Anatolia Chair: Jeanette Fincke 14:15–14:45 *Heather Baker (Universtität Wien), In My Father’s Footsteps? The Transmission of Offices, Professions and Crafts within the Family in the Neo-Assyrian Period 14:45–15:15 *Michael Jursa / Klaus Wagensonner (Universtität Wien), Families, Officialdom and Families of Officials in Chaldean and Achaemenid Babylonia Chair: Francis Joannes (Université de Paris I Pantheon Sorbonne) 15:15–15:45 *Daniel Bodi (Université de Strasbourg), The Traditional Claims of an Illustrious Ancestor in Craftmanship and in Wisdom 16:15–16:45 Jonathan Taylor (The British Museum), Neo-Babylonian Copies of Ancient Inscriptions 16:45–17:15 *Jürgen Lorenz (Universität Marburg), Spätbabylonische Urkunden: Original, Kopie, Abschrift

Program

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17:15–17:45 Claus Ambos (Universität Heidelberg), The Foundation Legend of the Hellenistic Temple of Anu in Uruk–Invention of Tradition or Historical Fact? 17:45–18:15 Malgorzata Sandowicz (University of Warsaw), Nebuchadnezzar II the Reformer ABI (Associazione Bancaria Italiana) Piazza del Gesù, 49–Sala Verde — Assiriologia ed Economia: Discipline a Confronto Chair: Pietro Mander (IUO Napoli) 9:30–13:00 Odoardo Bulgarelli (Economist), Introduction Francesco Pomponio (Università di Messina), Some Scraps of Information and Discussion about the Economy of the Third Millennium Babylonia Cécile Michel (CNRS), Economic and Social Aspects of the Old Assyrian Loan Contracts Marc van de Mieroop (Columbia University), The Contract and the Old Babylonian Economy Michael Jursa (Universität Wien), Money, Monetization and the Transformation of the Agrarian Economy in Babylonia in the Sixth and Fifth Century b.c. Chair: Gianni Toniolo (Duke University) Discussion Museo dell’Arte Classica (Gallery of the Plaster Casts) 15:00 Guided tour

Wednesday 6 July 2011 Aula I Chair: Marten Stol (Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam) 9:15–9:45 Christopher Frechette (Boston College School of Theology and Ministry), Textual Evidence for shu-íl-lá as Signifying a Formal Gesture Communicating Submission and Loyalty to the Deity 9:45–10:15 Marina Redina (Russian Academy of Science), Kassite Administrative Documents: Traditional and Innovative Aspects 10:15–10:45 Susanne Paulus (Universität Münster), Ein außergewöhnlicher Text aus der frühen Kassitenzeit 11:15–11:45 *Herbert B. Huffmon (Drew University), Prophecy in the Mari Texts as an Innovative Development 11:45–12:15 Stefan Jakob (Universität Heidelberg), Die Beharrlichkeit des Erinnerns 12:15–12:45 *Christine Proust (CNRS & Université Paris Diderot), Mathematical Catalogues and Series Texts: from Archiving to the Exploration of New Problems

xxii

Program

Chair: Herbert Niehr (Universität Tübingen) 14:15–14:45 *Alvise Matessi (Università di Pavia), The Territorial Administration of the LBA Kingdom of Mukish (Alalah IV): State, Society and Geography, in Further Comparison with the Situation of Alalah VII (MBA) 14:45–15:15 Joann Scurlock (Elmhurst College), Death and the Maidens: Continuity in Change at Ugarit 15:15–15:45 Matthew Rutz (Brown University), Tradition, Contact, Innovation: Communities of Languages, Script and Text in Late Bronze Age Syria 16:15–16:45 *Maurizio Viano, Writing Sumerian in the West 16:45–17:15 Marie-Françoise Besnier (Cambridge University), The Divination Series šumma ālu in Sultantepe and Nimrud, in Comparison with the Nineveh and Aššur Manuscripts 17:15–17:45 Greta van Buylaere (Cambridge University), Huzirina Revisited: an Assyrian Scribal School in Aramaic Territory 17:45–18:15 Pamela Barmash (Washington University in St. Louis), Scribal Education and Legal Terminology Aula “Odeion” — Ebla and Syria Chair: Michael Roaf (Universität München) 9:15–9:45 Paolo Matthiae (Sapienza–Università di Roma), Cult Architecture at Ebla Between Early Bronze IVA and Middle Bronze I. Continuity and Innovation in the Formative Phase of a Great Tradition 9:45–10:15 Frances Pinnock (Sapienza–Università di Roma), From Ebla to Guzana: the Image of Power in Syria between the Bronze and Iron Age 10:15–10:45 *Rita Dolce (Università di Roma Tre), Tradition and Innovation in the Wooden Carvings of Ebla: an Open Question 11:15–11:45 Luca Peyronel (IULM Milano), Urban Planning and Spatial Distribution of Industrial Activities at Ebla. Some Reflections on Continuity and Change between the Early and Old Syrian Period 11:45–12:15 *Marco Ramazzotti (Sapienza–Università di Roma), The Aesthetical Lexicon of Ebla’s Composite Art during the Age of the Archives. An Innovative Visual Representation of Words and Concepts inside the Early Dynastic Technology of the Images 12:15–12:45 Licia Romano (Sapienza–Università di Roma), The Queen and the Veil. Analysis of the Eblaite Votive Plaque Chair: Francesca Baffi (Università del Salento) 14:15–14:45 Andrea Polcaro (Università di Perugia), The Bone Talisman and the Ideology of Ancestors in Old Syrian Ebla: Tradition and Innovation in the Royal Funerary Ritual Iconography 14:45–15:15 Sara Pizzimenti (Sapienza–Università di Roma), A Hare in the Land of Lions. Analysis and Interpretation of the Leporid Symbol in Ebla and its Relationship with the Old Syrian Culture 15:15–15:45 Maria Giovanna Biga (Sapienza–Università di Roma), Tradition and Innovation in the Foreign Politics of Ebla Kingdom in the Archives Period

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16:15–16:45 *Alessandro Roccati (Università di Torino), The Northern Borders of Egypt in the 3rd Millennium BC 16:45–17:15 Marta D’Andrea–Agnese Vacca (Sapienza–Università di Roma), Syria and Palestine at the End of the Early Bronze Age: Confronting Regional Narratives 17:15–17:45 Feyssal Abdallah (Université de Damas), L’innovation de l’histoire cunéiforme de Damas à la lumière de deux nouvelles textes récemment trouvés à Damas 17:45–18:15 *Alessio Palmisano (University College London), Geo-political Patterns and Connectivity in the Upper Khabur in the Middle Bronze Age Aula Vetri — Officina: Sumerian Akkadian Linguistics Chair: Paul Delnero (The Johns Hopkins University) 9:15–9:45 Walther Sallaberger (Universität München), Change and Innovation in the Sumerian Lexicon in the Third Millennium 9:45–10:15 Fumi Karahashi (Chuo University), Change and Continuity: the Case of the Sumerian Enclitic Copula -am6/am3 10:15–10:45 Paul Delnero (The Johns Hopkins University), The Sumerian Verbal Prefixes mu-ni- and mi-niChair: Christian Hess (Universität Leipzig) 11:15–11:45 Gábor Zólyomi, How to Teach a Website to Sumerian 11:45–12:15 Szylvia Sovegjarto, Getting on the Equative’s Case 12:15–12:45 Kamran Zand (Universität Heidelberg), How a Scribe Learned to Read “Writings from before the Flood” Chair: Walther Sallaberger 14:15–14:45 Leonid Kogan (Russian State University Moscow) and Manfred Krebernik (Universität Jena), The Etymological Dictionary of Akkadian: Presentation of a Project 14:45–15:15 Sergei Loesov (Russian State University Moscow), The Akkadian Stative: is it “Young” or “Old”? 15:15–15:45 Christian Hess (Universität Leipzig), Lexical Innovations in Middle Babylonian Literature Chair: Nils Heeßel (Universität Heidelberg) 16:15–16:45 Mogens Trolle Larsen (University of Copenhagen), Innovation and Change in Old Assyrian Society 16:45–17:15 Shigeo Yamada (University of Tsukuba), New Adoption Contract from Tell Taban and the Hana Type Scribal Tradition 17:15–17:45 Denis Lacambre (Université Charles-de-Gaulle Lille 3), After the Death of Samsî-Addu: the Eponym Ennam-Assur (KEL G 84) in Chagar Bazar (Ashnakkum) 17:45–18:15 Massimo Maiocchi (Università Ca’ Foscari Venezia), Continuity and Change in Third Millennium Calendrical Systems: the Issue of the Intercalary Month in the Sargonic Sources

Program

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Museo dell’Arte Classica (Gallery of the Plaster Casts) 15:00 Guided tour

Thursday 7 July 2011 Aula I Chair: Karlheinz Kessler (Universität Würzburg) 9:15–9:45 Jaume Llop Raduà (Universitat de Barcelona), The Implantation of the Middle Assyrian Provincial System 9:45–10:15 Sabina Franke (Universität Hamburg), Der Kultsockel des Tukulti-Ninurta 10:15–10:45 *Paola Negri Scafa (ENEA), Continuity and Discontinuity in a Nuzi Scribal Family 11:15–11:45 *Dave Deuel (The Masters Academy International), Letters in Administrative Mission at Provincial Arrapha 11:45–12:15 *Anne Löhnert (Universität München), Aspects of Royal Authority and Local Competence. The Case of Nuzi 12:15–12:45 Pierre Bordreuil, Les textes en cunéiforme alphabétique de Ras Shamra-Ougarit 1994–2002: quelques données nouvelles Aula “Odeion” — Anatolia Chair: Massimo Forlanini 9:15–9:45 Vladimir Shelestin (State Academic University Moscow), HittiteKizzuwatnean Relations Reconsidered: Traditions and Innovations in the Late Old Hittite Geopolitical Thought 9:45–10:15 *Craig Melchert (University of California, Los Angeles), Reciprocity and Commerce in Bronze and Iron Age Anatolia 10:15–10:45 *Andrey Sideltsev (Russian Academy of Sciences), Clitic Doubling in Hittite? 11:15–11:45 *Maria Elena Balza–Clelia Mora (Université de Limoges– Università di Pavia), Memory and Tradition of the Hittite Empire in Post-Hittite Period 11:45–12:15 Fernando Escribano Martín (Universidad Autónoma de Madrid), Il Dio della tempesta: tradizione e innovazione in un dio principale. Un esempio di sincretismo 12:15–12:45 Erik van Dongen (University of Helsinki), The Overland Route: Intra-Anatolian Interaction, ca. 1100–540 BCE Aula Vetri — Officina: Artisans and Professions in the Ur III Period Chair: Hartmut Waetzoldt (Universität Heidelberg) 9:15–9:45 Walther Sallaberger (Universität München), The Social Context of Crafts in the Ur III Empire and Early Mesopotamian Traditions 9:45–10:15 Lorenzo Verderame (Sapienza–Università di Roma), Sculptors and Statues in Neo-Sumerian Sources 10:15–10:45 Paola Paoletti (Universität München), Footwear in the 3rd Millennium BC: its Administration, Veriety and Tecniques

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Chair: David I. Owen (Cornell University) 11:15–11:45 Christina Tsouparopoulou (Max Planck Institute for the History of Science, Berlin), Leather Workers, Carcass Disposers, Storeroom Officials or Just More Bureaucrats? 11:45–12:15 *Angela Greco (Sapienza–Università di Roma–Freie Universität Berlin), Professional Figures and Administrative Roles in the Garden Management of Ur III Girsu Università Pontificia Gregoriana (Piazza della Pilotta) 14:30–17:30 General meeting Mercati di Traiano (via 4 Novembre 144) 17:00–19:00 Group visit Pontificio Istituto Biblico (Piazza della Pilotta) 18:00–19:30 Group visit Convento di Santi XII Apostoli (piazza Santi XII Apostoli 51) 19:15–21:30 Reception

Friday 8 July 2011 Aula I Chair: Jack M. Sasson (Vanderbilt University) 9:15–9:45 Michele Maggio (Universität Heidelberg), L’ornamentation des dieux à l’époque paléobabylonienne: tradition et innovation 9:45–10:15 Martin Worthington (SOAS, London), Some Comments on the Mechanisms of Textual Change 10:15–10:45 Mikko Luukko (University College London), Standardisation and Variation in the Introductory Formulas in Neo-Assyrian Letters 11:15–11:45 *Krysztof Ulanowski (University of Gdansk), The Ritual of Power. The Akkadian Tradition in Neo-Assyrian Policy 11:45–12:15 Caroline Waerzegger (University College London), The Loss of Native Kingship in Mesopotamia 12:15–12:45 *Parsa Daneshmand, New Phraseology and Literary Style in the Babylonian Version of the Achaemenid Inscriptions Aula “Odeion” Chair: Elena Rova (Università Ca’ Foscari Venezia) 9:15–9:45 *Fabrice De Backer (Université Catholique de Louvain / Université de Strasbourg), An Experimental Armour from the Early 1st Millennium BC 9:45–10:15 Elynn Gorris (Université Catholique de Louvain), Musical Instruments at Tell Tweini (Syria) 10:15–10:45 *Olivier Rouault–Maria Grazia Masetti-Rouault (Université Lyon 2–École Pratiques des Hautes Études), Recent Researches in the Erbil Region: 2011 Excavations in Qasr Shemamok–Kilizu (Iraqi Kurdistan)

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11:15–11:45 *Christos G. Karagiannis (University of Athens), The Assyrian Tree of Life and the Jewish Menorah 11:45–12:15 *Tommaso De Vincenzi (Sapienza–Università di Roma), Fortifications and Arming as Analytical Elements for a Social-policy Evolution in Anatolia in Early Bronze Age 12:15–12:45 Elisa Girotto (Università Ca’ Foscari–Venezia), Rope and Yoke in Ancient Mesopotamia: Variations on a Long-lasting Image Aula Vetri Chair: Gregorio del Olmo Lete (IPOA, Universitat de Barcelona) 9:15–9:45 Reinhard Pirngruber (Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam), Impact of Empire: an Innovative Approach to the Commodity Price Series of the Astronomical Diaries, ca.400–60 BC 9:45–10:15 Nils Heeßel (Universität Heidelberg), Creating Texts. Towards an Understanding of the Emergence of Standardized Scholarly Texts in Middle-Babylonian Times 10:15–10:45 *Pavel Cech (University of Prague), Amurru in der königlichen Ideologie und Tradition: von Ebla bis Izrael 11:15–11:45 *Agnès Garcia Ventura–Jordi Vidal (Universitat Pompeu Fabra– Universitat Autònoma de Barcelona), Oriental Studies and Fascism: Past and Present in Spanish Historiography 12:15–12:45 Anna Meshki (Gori University), The Mother Tongue: Sources and Dechipherment Aula “Partenone” — Officina: Social Theory and the Terminology for Political Formations in the Ancient Near East Chair: Cristina De Bernardi (Universidad Nacional de Rosario) 9:15–9:45 Cristina De Bernardi, Philology, Archaeology and Social Theories: a Necessary Collaboration to Understand the State Processes in the Ancient Near East 9:45–10:15 Xianhua Wang (Peking University), The Relevance of Michael Mann to Early Dynastic Mesopotamia 10:15–10:45 Christopher Brinker, Akkad and Augustus: A New Theory of Empire and its Application to the Empire of Akkad 11:15–11:45 Alessandro Di Ludovico (Sapienza–Università di Roma), Reflections on the Social-Political Relationships in Late Third Millennium Mesopotamia 11:45–12:15 María Rosa Oliver (Universidad Nacional de Rosario), Les formations étatiques anciennes et les relations entre les sexes: une omission délibéré? Mari: le genre et la politique sous le règne de Zimri-Lîm 12:15–12:45 Eleonora Ravenna (Sapienza–Università di Roma), Tradition and Innovation in the Studies of Ancient Near Eastern States

Rückwärts schauend in die Zukunft: Utopien des Alten Orients Stefan M. Maul Heidelberg

Nachdem Schamschi-Adad I. im frühen 2. Jt. v. Chr. dem Haupttempel der Stadt Assur seine monumentale Gestalt verliehen hatte, blieb der Grundplan des Gebäudes  1 über mehr als ein ganzes Jahrtausend hinweg weitgehend unverändert. Obgleich das Gotteshaus immer wieder renoviert und nach einer Brandkatastrophe sogar vollständig neu errichtet werden mußte, versuchte keiner der mächtigen mittelund neuassyrischen Könige—all den stürmischen politischen und gesellschaftlichen Veränderungen zum Trotz—dessen Struktur grundlegend zu verändern. Doch im frühen 7. Jh. v. Chr. faßte König Sanherib einen bis dahin unvorstellbaren Beschluß: Er ließ den großen Vorhof des Tempels meterhoch aufschütten und so die dort befindlichen Wasserbecken und das dem Tempel vorgelagerte, mit Schmelzfarbenbildern geschmückte Podium mitsamt seinen Treppen und Rampen in dem Füllschutt einfach verschwinden. Ein gewaltiger Anbau wurde errichtet, der nicht nur für ein ganz ungewohntes äußeres Erscheinungsbild des AssurTempels sorgte, sondern wohl auch den altehrwürdigen Kultbetrieb in völlig neue  2 Formen zwang. Auch ließ Sanherib vor den Toren der Stadt ein in Gartenanlagen eingebettetes Festhaus errichten, das—babylonischen Bräuchen folgend—das Ziel einer feierlichen Neujahrsfestprozession sein sollte, welche ihren Weg heraus aus  3 der Stadt in die im Frühjahr auflebende Natur nahm. Der König, dessen mannigfachen Versuche, Babyloniens Eigenständigkeit mit friedlichen und mit kriegerischen Mitteln zu unterbinden, allesamt gescheitert waren, hatte 689 v. Chr. in blankem Haß die belagerte und eingenommene Stadt Babylon von den aufgestauten Fluten des Euphrat regelrecht hinwegschwemmen lassen und hoffte so, für alle Zeiten den Gegner ausgelöscht zu haben. Das altehrwürdige kultische und religiöse Erbe Babylons sollte von nun an in Assur aufgehen und die ausgelöschte Kulttopographie Babylons für alle Zukunft in dem umgestalteten Assur weiterleben. Die Umbauten des Assur-Tempels mögen bei der Priesterschaft Empörung ausgelöst haben. Freilich versuchte Sanherib jegliche Kritik im Keime zu ersticken, indem er behauptete, in Wahrheit mit seinen Reformen der mušaklil paraṣ Ešarra 1.  Zum Assur-Tempel siehe Haller, Andrae 1955, 6 ff.; Andrae 1977, 46–49; 121–129; 165–170; 224–226; Heinrich 1982, 198–199; 232–233; 273–275. 2.  Siehe Frahm 1997, 286. 3.  Siehe Haller, Andrae 1955, 74–80; Andrae 1977, 219–224; Heinrich 1982, 275–277.

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Stefan M. Maul

mašûti zu sein—derjenige, der nach langer Zeit “die in Vergessenheit geratenen Kultordnungen” des Assur-Tempels erst wiederhergestellt habe. Auch das neu errichtete Neujahrsfesthaus, so Sanherib, sei von ihm endlich wieder an seinem Platz außerhalb der Stadt errichtet worden, wie es “seit ewiger Zeit” Sitte gewesen,  5 aber schändlicherweise aufgrund von “Irrungen und Wirrungen” schon lange aufgegeben worden sei. Wir wissen nicht, welche Argumente Sanherib und seine Berater bemühten, um eine solche Behauptung zu stützen. Hinweise auf Vorgängerbauten konnten die archäologischen Untersuchungen in Assur jedenfalls nicht erbringen. Aber ganz unabhängig von der Frage, ob hier tatsächlich eine uralte Kulttopographie  6 wiederhergestellt wurde, oder ob wir es mit einem dreisten making of tradition zu tun haben, kann man an der Sanherib-Inschrift ermessen, wie gewaltig hoch die Autorität des Althergebrachten im Assyrien des Sanherib gewesen sein muß. In der Tat ist das Interesse der mesopotamischen Kultur an der eigenen Vergangenheit über viele Jahrhunderte hin auf Schritt und Tritt allgegenwärtig. In den Hinterlassenschaften der assyrischen und der babylonischen Kultur des zweiten und ersten vorchristlichen Jahrtausends läßt sich die mächtige, alles durchdringende normative Kraft des Alt(hergebracht)en schon auf den ersten Blick erkennen. Exemplarisch wollen wir dem in einigen Beispielen nachgehen, indem wir einen Blick auf die Sprachen, die Schrift und die materiellen Hinterlassenschaften des Alten Orients werfen.  4

1.  Die Sprachen des Alten Orients Die zahlreichen Inschriften der Herrscher Assyriens und Babyloniens, die man in den Fundamenten von Tempeln und Palästen für die Nachwelt hinterlegte oder sichtbar auf Reliefs und Stelen anbrachte, wurden in einer Kunstsprache verfaßt, die—weit entfernt von der zeitgenössischen semitischen Sprache des Alltags— sich an der altertümlichen, als klassisch empfundenen babylonischen Sprache orientierte, die zu Beginn des 2. Jahrtausends v. Chr. gesprochen wurde und schon  7 damals mannigfache Archaizismen aufwies. Auch die übrige Literatur (religiöse und gelehrte Texte, Epen und Mythen) bediente sich dieser, von uns »StandardBabylonisch« genannten gehobenen Sprachform. Mit ihrem altertümlichen Klang beschwor sie nicht nur die altehrwürdige Zeit des Königs Hammurapi, der im 18. Jh. v.  Chr. ganz Mesopotamien und Teile Syriens zu einem mächtigen Reich geeint hatte. Das »Standard-Babylonische« brachte auch diejenige Sprachform des Babylonischen immer wieder zum Klingen, in der im frühen 2. Jahrtausend v. Chr. erstmals in einer semitischen Sprache im größeren Umfang Literatur schriftlich niedergelegt worden war. Das Sumerische, das älteste, mit keiner bekannten Sprache verwandte Idiom des Zweistromlandes, galt noch um die Zeitenwende—zweitausend Jahre nachdem es als gesprochene Sprache aufgehört hatte zu existieren—als die ehrwürdigste Sprache. Sumerische Lieder, Hymnen und Gebete, die bereits im 3. Jahrtausend v.  Chr. entstanden, wurden immer wieder abgeschrieben und mit babylonischen 4.  Schroeder 1922, Text Nr. 122:3 f. 5.  Schroeder 1922, Text Nr. 122:26 (ultu ūmē rūqūti; ešâti u saḫmašāti). 6.  Siehe Frahm 1997, 286. 7.  Siehe von Soden 1932/33; ders. 1995, 3 § 2d; Groneberg 1972.

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Übersetzungen versehen. Sie nahmen gemeinsam mit späteren Nachschöpfungen aus dem 2. und 1. Jahrtausend v.  Chr. bis zum Ende der Keilschriftkultur um das 2. Jh. unserer Zeit eine wichtige Stellung im Götterkult ein. Darüber hinaus lebte das Sumerische, ganz ähnlich wie das Lateinische in unserer Kultur, als Gelehrtensprache fort. So wie die Humanisten der frühen Neuzeit ihre Namen latinisierten, übertrugen babylonische und assyrische Gelehrte ihre semitischen Namen gerne ins Sumerische und verfassten gelehrte Texte in diesem Idiom. Vor allem in den großen Städten, die als die Zentren der frühen sumerischen Kultur galten, ließen assyrische und babylonische Könige auch noch im 1. Jahrtausend v. Chr. ihre Bau- und Weihinschriften den alten Traditionen folgend in sumerischer Sprache verfassen.

2. Schrift Königsinschriften des ersten Jahrtausends v.  Chr. wurden darüber hinaus nicht selten mit altertümlichen Keilschriftzeichenformen niedergeschrieben, die im zeitgenössischen Alltagsleben schon viele Jahrhunderte außer Gebrauch waren  8 und von weniger Gebildeten ganz sicher nicht entziffert werden konnten. Die Verwendung uralter Zeichenformen ist freilich kein Phänomen, das sich auf das erste vorchristliche Jahrtausend beschränkt. Bereits Hammurapi von Babylon, dessen Zeit man später als »klassisch« betrachten sollte, ließ den Text seiner berühmten Gesetzesstele in einem Schriftduktus niederschreiben, der einen über 600 Jahre älteren paläographischen Entwicklungsstand der Keilschrift widerspiegelt und damit bewußt an die Zeit der altakkadischen Könige anknüpft, die im 24. Jh. v. Chr. erstmals eine Einigung der mesopotamischen Stadtstaaten erzwangen. Dem Vorbild Hammurapis folgend ließ noch Nebukadnezar II. im 6. Jh. v.  Chr. seine Inschriften bei dem prächtigen Ausbau von Babylon mit den feierlich wirkenden Zeichen schreiben. Die Inschriften seiner Epoche ahmen nicht nur die Sprache der Hammurapi-Zeit nach, sondern bedienen sich oft auch der alten, im Alltag längst  9 außer Gebrauch gekommenen orthographischen Konventionen. Die gelehrten Schreiber des 2. und 1. Jt. v. Chr. legten—modernen Assyriologen  10 gleich—paläographische Zeichenlisten an, studierten alte Texte und fertigten von ihnen Tontafelfaksimiles, die so gelungen erscheinen, daß sich bisweilen auch Assyriologen über das wahre Alter dieser Dokumente täuschen lassen. So konnte sich der neuassyrische König Assurbanipal (669–631 v. Chr.) sogar rühmen, er habe  11 Inschriften “aus der Zeit vor der Sintflut” entziffern können.

8.  Siehe beispielsweise die Tontafel-Inschrift des Asarhaddon K 7943 (Borger 1956, 117 § 90 und Taf. 5), die in der sehr altertümlichen Linearschrift des 3. Jt. v. Chr. verfaßt wurde, und den Tonzylinder des Assurbanipal BM 86918 (CT 9 Nr. 6–7). Siehe ferner auch Maul 2012 a und 2012 b. 9.  Dazu zusammenfassend Schaudig 2001, 86–88 und 315. 10.  Stellvertretend sei hier auf in Ninive, Kalḫu (Nimrud) und Assur gefundene Zeichenlisten verwiesen, in denen einem Keilschriftzeichen jeweils ein Bildzeichen gegenübergestellt ist, das zumindest nach Ansicht der Kompilatoren am Anfang der Schriftentwicklung stand (z. B. Wiseman, Black 1996, Text Nr. 229; siehe Marzahn, Schauerte 2008, 434 Abb. 315 mit weiteren Beispielen). Das Tafelfragment Wiseman, Black 1996, Text Nr. 235 stellt ferner unter Beweis, daß auch mit diesen erlernten uralten Bildzeichen neue Texte geschrieben wurden. 11.  Streck 1916, 256, Tontafelinschrift L4, Vs. 18.

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3.  Materielle Hinterlassenschaften Das Interesse an einer als “klassisch” empfundenen Vergangenheit manifestierte sich in Mesopotamien jedoch nicht nur in der Verwendung von altertümlicher Sprache und Schrift. Auch in der materiellen Kultur Mesopotamiens lassen sich immer wieder Rückgriffe auf weit zurückliegende Perioden nachweisen, denen hier freilich nicht im einzelnen nachgegangen werden kann. Ein eindrucksvolles Beispiel soll genügen. Überraschend erscheint dem modernen Leser die in neu­babylonischen Königsinschriften aus dem 6. vorchristlichen Jahrhundert nicht selten anzu­treffende Schilderung, daß im Auftrag des Herrschers in seit Jahrtausenden bestehenden Tempelbezirken regelrechte großflächig angelegte archäologische Ausgrabungen unternommen wurden, um Reste von uralten, manchmal längst vergessenen Kulteinrichtungen ausfindig zu machen. 12 In einer Inschrift berichtet der babylonische König Nabonid: Die Fundamentsteine des Tempels Eʾulmasch zu Akkade, die seit der Zeit des Sargon, des Königs von Babylon, und des Naram-Sin, seines Sohnes, Königen früherer Zeit, und gar bis zur Regierungszeit des Nabonid, des Königs von Babylon, niemandem zu Gesicht gekommen waren, hatte Kurigalzu, der König von Babylon, ein König früherer Zeit, gesucht, aber die Fundamentsteine von Eʾulmasch fand er nicht (. . .). Nebukadnezar, der König von Babylon (. . .), entsandte seine Arbeitstruppen in großer Zahl, um nach jenen Fundamentsteinen des Eʾulmasch zu suchen, er mühte sich ab, grub in die Tiefe, aber die Fundamentsteine von Eʾulmasch fand er nicht. Ich dagegen, Nabonid, der König von Babylon, erschaute während meiner rechtmäßigen Regierung in der Furcht vor Ischtar von Akkade, meiner Herrin, einen Opferschaubefund. Schamasch und Adad antworteten mir mit einem zuverlässigen Jawort; daß ich finden sollte die Fundamentsteine jenes Eʾulmasch, legten sie mir als günstigen Fleischbefund in meinen Opferschaubescheid. Meine Mannen in großer Zahl entsandte ich, zu suchen nach den Fundamentsteinen jenes Eʾulmasch. Drei Jahre lang durchgrub ich die Senkschächte des Nebukadnezar, des Königs von Babylon. Rechts und links, vorwärts und rückwärts suchte ich, aber ich fand sie nicht. Da sprachen sie zu mir also: “Nach jenen Fundamentsteinen haben wir gesucht, aber wir haben  13 sie nicht zu Gesicht bekommen.

Erst in einem späteren Anlauf bekommen die Reste des um 2350 v. Chr. errichteten sargonischen Baus gefunden, und Nabonid konnte dann, wie er an anderer Stelle formulieren ließ, “keinen Finger breit zu weit vorspringend oder zurücktretend über  14 den alten Fundamentsteinen” das neue Fundament des Tempels anlegen. Das Ziel derartiger Ausgrabungen bestand darin, den ältesten Bauzustand eines Tempels zu ermitteln. So lange wurden die Reste der jüngeren Bauphasen abgetragen, bis man glaubte, auf die früheste in den Fundamenten dokumentierte Gestalt des Gotteshauses gestoßen zu sein. Das archäologische Interesse baby­ lonischer (und auch assyrischer) Könige an der Tempelarchitektur ihres “Altertums” war freilich nicht in erster Linie antiquarischer Natur. Vielmehr wurde der ermittelte “antike” Bauplan benötigt, um den Tempel in seiner ursprünglichen, von den Veränderungen der Zeiten unverfälschten Gestalt wiederherzustellen und beim 12.  Siehe Goosens 1948. 13.  Nach Schaudig 2001, 454–456 und 463–464, Exemplar 2 II 28–34, 45–63. 14.  Siehe z. B. Schaudig 2001, 452, Exemplar 2 II 8.

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Neubau des Gotteshauses “keinen Finger zuviel und keinen Finger zuwenig” von dem alten und uranfänglichen Plan abzuweichen. Bezeichnenderweise bedeutet  16 die akkadische (und auch die sumerische) Wendung , die in den Wörterbüchern mit “wiederherstellen” oder “restaurieren” wiedergeben wird, wörtlich übersetzt “(eine Sache) an den jeweils für sie vorgesehenen / an den ihr gebührenden Platz zurückführen.” Dahinter ist deutlich die mesopotamische Vorstellung zu spüren, daß allen Dingen in der Welt jeweils ein fester, ewiger und unverrückbarer Platz zugewiesen ist. Diesen von den Zeitläuften immer wieder in Frage gestellten Platz galt es, mit der Rekonstruktion des alten Tempels wiederzugewinnen. Mythen, die sich um die Tempel Babyloniens ranken, wissen zu berichten, daß diese Gotteshäuser keineswegs von Menschenhand, sondern als Teil des Schöpfungswerkes zum Anbeginn der Zeiten von den Göttern selbst errichtet worden  17 seien. Die Wiederherstellung des Tempels nach dem unverfälschten göttlichen Plan sollte den königlichen Bauherrn, die Menschen und das Staatswesen wieder in den ungetrübten, segensreichen Uranfang zurückversetzen. Die Suche der Babylonier und Assyrer nach ihrem “Altertum” entpuppt sich somit als das Streben nach der klaren uranfänglichen Ordnung, der die Götter selbst im Schöpfungsakt ihre Gestalt gegeben hatten. Bezeichnenderweise wird diese von Alterungsprozessen noch unbeschadete Urzeit stets mit dem Begriff der “fernen Zeit” verbunden, der so wie die ferne Vergangenheit auch die ferne Zukunft meinen kann; gleichsam so, als könnten die ferne Vergangenheit und die ferne Zukunft auf einer gebogenen Zeitachse zueinander finden und einander durchdringen. Ein Blick in die mythischen Texte Mesopotamiens zeigt sehr rasch, daß tatsächlich auch sämtliche kulturellen Errungenschaften, sei es die Baukunst, die Kunst der Schreiber, Goldschmiede, Schreiner usw., zu Offenbarungen des (Weisheits-)Gottes Ea erklärt wurden, die dieser der Menschheit zum Anbeginn der Zeiten in die Hand gegeben hatte. Noch Berossos, ein Marduk-Priester des 3. Jh. v. Chr., der mit seinem  18 griechischsprachigen Werk Babyloniaka der hellenistischen Welt Geschichte und Kultur des alten Babyloniens nahebrachte, hielt dieses Selbstverständnis der  19 babylonischen Kultur für wesentlich: Ein fischgestaltiges Wesen namens Oannes sei, so Berossos, im ersten Jahr der Welt, also unmittelbar nach Erschaffung von Himmel, Erde und Menschen, aus dem Meer gestiegen und habe “die Menschen die Schriftkunde und die mannigfaltigen Verfahrungsweisen der Künste, die Bildungen von Städten und die Gründungen von Tempeln (gelehrt) . . . was nur immer der Häuslichkeit des Lebens der Welt zustattenkommt, überlieferte es den Menschen; und seit jener Zeit”, so Berossos, “werde von keinem anderen mehr auch  20 nur irgendetwas erfunden”. Auch die Könige Babyloniens und Assyriens suchten, obgleich sie sich in ihren Inschriften stolz auf ihre Vorgänger beriefen, die Jahrtausende vor ihnen das Land regiert, geeint und zu Machtfülle gebracht hatten, die Zeiträume, die sich zwischen diese und den Uranfang der Schöpfung gelegt hatten, zu überwinden. Das  15

15.  Lambert 1968/69, 5 Zeile 24 (Inschrift des Nabonid; weitere Belege AHw 1399a). 16.  ki-bi-šè gi4 (sumerisch) = ana ašrīšu turru (akkadisch). 17.  Siehe z. B. van Dijk 1998. 18.  Siehe Schnabel 1923 und Burstein 1978. 19.  Zu Oannes (= u4-an, u4-dan, u4-an-na; u4-ma-da-nim, ú-da-nim) in der keilschriftlichen Literatur siehe Lambert 1962, 74; Hallo 1963, 176 Anm. 7; Borger 1974, 186 und George 1992, 269. 20.  Schnabel 1923, 253.

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jährlich durchgeführte Neujahrsfest ist ein beredtes Zeugnis dieses Bestrebens. In diesem bedeutsamen Staatsritual präsentierte sich der König Hand in Hand mit dem Weltengott (d.h. mit dem Kultbild des Gottes), um mit diesem den uranfänglichen Kampf des Gottes gegen die Mächte des Chaos, den Sieg über diese Widersacher der Ordnung und die sich anschließende Erschaffung der Welt im Kultgeschehen zu reaktualisieren. Mesopotamische Herrscher legitimierten sich  21 nicht nur dadurch, daß sie “von ewigem Samen” , von “kostbarem Samen aus der  22  23 Zeit vor der Sintflut” und aus “Familien der Urzeit” stammten. Auch einem aus neubabylonischer Zeit bekannten Mythos zufolge schufen die Götter “den König”  24 sogleich nach der Erschaffung der Menschen, damit er diese “recht leite”. Die gottgewollte Aufgabe eines Königs bestand demnach darin, die in der Schöpfung gewordene geordnete Welt zu bewahren, zu verteidigen und wieder in den Zustand zurückzuversetzen, aus dem heraus sie sich deformiert hatte. Das Idealbild der Gesellschaft und des Staatswesens, die Utopie der Mesopotamier, war somit stets in der Urvergangenheit und nie in der Zukunft angesiedelt. Daher erstaunt es nicht, daß im ersten vorchristlichen Jahrtausend assyrische Könige ihre Kriegszüge gegen die Feinde des Reiches durch subtile Anspielungen als den sich in den Zeiten immer wiederholenden Urkampf des Weltengottes gegen die Mächte des Chaos schilderten, der doch endlich mit dem triumphalen Sieg und der Ordnung der Welt  25 im Schöpfungswerk endete. So bildete der Mythos den Rahmen, in dem Geschichte immer wieder auskristallisiert. Der stete Blick auf das Uranfängliche, das Ehren und immer wieder neu Entdecken des Alten ist freilich nur auf den ersten Blick, nur äußerlich rückwärtsgewandt. Der enorme Aufwand, mit dem im Rahmen von divinatorischen Verfahren altorientalische Fürsten durch die Zeiten hinweg mit ihren Beratern Pläne und Absichten auf deren Zukunftsfähigkeit hin prüften, spricht eine ganz andere Sprache. Umfangreiche Staatsarchive aus verschiedenen Epochen des Alten Orients zeigen uns nämlich, daß Könige und Regierungen einer bewußten Zukunftsgestaltung höchste Priorität einräumten. Auch aus unserer Sicht kann die altorientalische Kultur des Zweistromlandes keineswegs als eine Kultur beschrieben werden, die krampfhaft am Altbewährten festhielt und Experimentieren, Weiterentwicklung und Fortschritt nicht zuließ oder à la longue behinderte. Geopolitische, ökonomische und nicht zuletzt auch ökologische Bedingungen erzwangen in der bewegten altorientalischen Geschichte immer wieder neue Herrschaftsformen. Sie führen vom Priesterfürstentum der kleinflächigen frühen sumerischen Stadtstaaten des 3. vorchristlichen Jahrtausends bis hin zu dem Großkönigtum des assyrischen Reiches, das ein Gebiet vom Zagros bis einschließlich Ägypten, von Anatolien bis tief in die arabische Halbinsel zu kontrollieren hatte. Immer wieder mußten neue, den veränderten Bedingungen angepaßte Formen der Verwaltung, neue Technologien, nicht zuletzt auch der Situation angemessene Mittel 21.  Siehe CAD Z 95 f. s.v. zēru 4b. 22.  Siehe Frame 1995, 25, Nebuchadnezzar I B.2.4.8, Zeile 8: zēru naṣru ša lām abūbi. 23.  Der assyrische König Asarhaddon (680–669 v. Chr.) bezeichnete sich und die assyrische Königsdynastie als zēr šarrūti kisitti ṣâti, “Same des Königtums, Stammbaum der Ewigkeit” (siehe Borger 1956, 32, Brs. A., Zeile 17 [dort übersetzt als: “königlicher Same, Uradliger”]). 24.  Mayer 1987. 25.  Hierzu siehe Maul 1999, 211.

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von Politik und Kriegsführung entwickelt werden. Im mittel- und neuassyrischen Reich etwa entstand ein ausgeklügeltes System der Provinzverwaltung, auf das die späteren Achämenidenkönige ebenso zurückgreifen konnten wie auf das von den assyrischen Großkönigen ausgebaute Netz der Königsstraßen. Mesopotamien wußte sich auch neue Technologien, sofern sie Vorteile versprachen, rasch nutzbar zu machen. Von hier aus nahm der neuartige Werkstoff Bronze ebenso wie später auch das Eisen seinen Siegeszug, um Landwirtschaft, Kriegswesen und zahlreiche andere Bereiche des Lebens erheblich effektiver zu gestalten. Auch etwa das Glas ist wohl mesopotamischer Experimentierfreude zu verdanken. Das Streben, langfristig über das Netz kausaler Zusammenhänge in der Welt genaueren Aufschluß zu erlangen, führte zu einem enormen, beweglichen Forschergeist. In den Tempeln Babyloniens wurde vom 8. Jh. v. Chr. an wohl lückenlos über Jahrhunderte hinweg in Form von Jahresberichten nicht nur über die Bewegung der Himmelskörper und das Wetter Rechenschaft abgelegt, sondern auch über die Preisentwicklung bestimmter ökonomisch wichtiger Güter, über Wasserstände und bemerkenswerte, als ominös eingestufte terrestrische Vorkommnisse, um Koinzidenzen mit den ebenfalls sorgsam verbuchten einschneidenden zeitgeschichtlichen Ereignissen zu erfassen. 26 Ziel war es, Gesetzmäßigkeiten im Weltgeschehen zu ermitteln, um diese Erkenntnisse für politisches Handeln nutzbar zu machen. Im Dienste dieses Strebens entstand im Babylonien des ersten vorchristlichen Jahrtausends die rechnende Astronomie, ein Zweig babylonischer Wissenschaft, der bis heute fortbesteht. Kurz, in eben dem Maße, in dem wir die mesopotamische Kultur als auf das Vergangene schauend beschreiben, können wir sie auch als eine Kultur sehen, die offen für Weiterentwicklungen und Neuerungen war. Dennoch suchen wir Begriffe für “Fortschritt”, “Entwicklung”, “Weiterent­ wicklung” und “Neuerung” vergeblich im Wortbestand der assyrischen und der babylonischen Sprache. Allein ein Wort für “verändern, abändern” ist anzutreffen (nukkuru), allerdings mit einer unguten Konnotation. Denn von der gleichen Wurzel sind auch die Wörter gebildet, die “fremd”, “feindlich”, “Feind” (nakru) und “Feindschaft” (nukurtu) bedeuten. Freilich ist auch der Begriff des “Alten” nicht ausschließlich positiv besetzt. labīru, das “Alte”, meint nämlich nicht allein das Altehrwürdige, sondern kann auch für das altersschwach und brüchig Gewordene stehen, das nach Erneuerung verlangt. Das Ersetzen des brüchig Gewordenen durch etwas Neues ist in der Begrifflichkeit der Babylonier dennoch nicht Fortschritt oder Neuerung genannt, sondern ana ašrīšu turru, wörtlich das “Zurückführen der Sache, an den ihr (seit alters her) gebührenden Platz”. Reformen wurden dementsprechend in Mesopotamien, wie sehr auch immer sie mit dem zuvor Gewesenen brachen, grundsätzlich als das Wiederherstellen einer (im Laufe der Zeit brüchig gewordenen) Ordnung beschrieben. Die enormen, für die Menschheitsgeschichte prägenden Entwicklungen, die die Gesellschaft Mesopotamiens im Laufe von Jahrhunderten und Jahrtausenden durchmachte, wurde somit nicht als “Fortschritt” begriffen, sondern als Re-stauration, als “Rückschritt” hin zu einer uranfänglichen Ordnung und Stabilität.

26.  Siehe Sachs, Hunger 1988–2006.

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Im Gewand des Althergebrachten präsentierte sich so das Neue. Dies mag uns fremd erscheinen. Nur derjenige, der gewillt ist, sich auf diese mesopotamische Sicht der Dinge einzulassen, wird die darin verborgene Klugheit erkennen können. Denn Neues kann hier nicht ohne weiteres unverbunden in das Bestehende und das Gewesene implantiert werden. Es muß sich in wie immer gearteter Weise mit dem Alten auseinandersetzen, an das Alte anschließen, sich plausibel mit dem Alten verbinden. Angesichts der massiven Verwerfungen und Umstürze, der Kriege und Brüche, die die Geschichte Mesopotamiens prägen, erscheint dies als ein äußerst sinnvolles Mittel, die Gewalt des Neuen zu domestizieren, das Neue einer Prüfung zu unterziehen, am Bestehenden zu messen und ein Aushandeln neuer Strukturen zu erzwingen. Es ist offensichtlich, daß die wichtige Frage was denn »alt« am Neuen war, Teil eines solchen Prozesses des Aushandelns gewesen sein muß und auf ganz verschiedene Weise beantwortet werden konnte. Die hermeneutische Oberhoheit über dieses gewichtige, mit Tradition und Geschichte eng verbundene Problem dürfte zunächst vorwiegend bei den Tempeln und ihren Priestern, mit zunehmender Komplexität der staatlichen Gebilde aber immer mehr bei den mächtigen Königen und ihren gelehrten Beratern gelegen haben. Gelang es, das Neue als konstitutiven, zumindest in ovo angelegten Teil der eigenen Geschichte und Tradition plausibel zu machen, konnte das Neue als das Ureigene wahrgenommen werden und dadurch den Charakter des Bedrohlichen verlieren. Auch Errungenschaften die keineswegs mesopotamischen Ursprungs waren, konnten, nahmen sie nur das Gesicht des mesopotamisch-Althergebrachten an, problemlos in den als konstitutiv empfundenen Bestand mesopotamischen Kulturguts überführt werden. Die Formensprache des Alten, die als das Eigene empfunden wurde, ermöglichte so auch, Fremdes und Neues zu übernehmen, ohne daß es schmerzlich als Fremdes und Neues empfunden werden mußte. Nicht zuletzt diesem Mechanismus ist es geschuldet, daß es der mesopotamischen Kultur über Jahrhunderte immer wieder gelang, sich zu reformieren und eine Globalkultur mit mesopotamischem Antlitz hervorzubringen. Erst als Babylon im Jahre 539 v. Chr. in die Hände der persischen Achämeniden fiel und Mesopotamien damit ein für alle mal die politische Oberhoheit über den Vorderen Orient verlor, zerbrach die normative Kraft mesopotamischer Traditionen. Das Babylonische hörte dann auf, die lingua franca des Vorderen Orients zu sein. Das Aramäische und später das Griechische traten an seine Stelle. Auch Keilschrift und Tontafel verloren rasch an übernationaler Bedeutung. Die Formensprache der uralten mesopotamischen Kultur, der sozusagen die agency entglitten war, war nicht länger mehr geeignet, so wie in den vielen Jahrhunderten zuvor den Rahmen, das Gefäß für Neuerungen zu liefern. Von außen betrachtet mußte diese alte Kultur nunmehr nicht nur als im Alten verhaftet angesehen werden, sondern zunehmend auch als unzeitgemäß und veraltet.

References Andrae, W. 1977 Das wiedererstandene Assur. Hrsg. von Barthel Hrouda. 2., durchges. u. erw. Aufl. München: Beck.

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Borger, R. 1956 Die Inschriften Asarhaddons Königs von Assyrien. Archiv für Orientforschung Beiheft 9. Graz: Selbstverlag des Herausgebers. 1974 Die Beschwörungsserie bīt mēseri und die Himmelfahrt Henochs. JNES 33: 183–196. Burstein, S. M. 1978 The Babyloniaca of Berossus. Sources from the Ancient Near East 1/5, Malibu: Undena Publ. Dijk, J. J. A. van 1998 Inanna raubt den “großen Himmel”. Ein Mythos. Pp. 9–38 in Festschrift für Rykle Borger zu seinem 65. Geburtstag am 24. Mai 1994: tikip santakki mala bašmu. Cuneiform Monographs 10. Edited by S. M. Maul. Groningen: Styx Publ. Frahm, E. 1997 Einleitung in die Sanherib-Inschriften. Archiv für Orientforschung Beiheft 26. Wien: Institut für Orientalistik der Universität Wien. Frame, G. 1995 Rulers of Babylonia. From the Second Dynasty of Isin to the End of Assyrian Domination (1157–612 BC). The Royal Inscriptions of Mesopotamia, Babylonian Periods Vol. 2. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. George, A. R. 1992 Babylonian Topographical Texts. Leuven: Dep. Oriëntalistiek. Goosens, G. 1948 Les recherches historiques à l”époque néo-babylonienne. RA 42: 149–159. Groneberg, B. 1972 Untersuchungen zum hymnisch-epischen Dialekt der altbabylonischen literarischen Texte. Münster: Ph.D dissertation. Haller, A. and Andrae, W. 1955 Die Heiligtümer des Gottes Assur und der Sin-Šamaš-Tempel in Assur. Wissenschaftliche Veröffentlichungen der Deutschen Orient-Gesellschaft 67. Berlin: Mann. Hallo, W. W. 1963 On the Antiquity of Sumerian Literature. JAOS 83: 167–176. Heinrich, E. 1982 Die Tempel und Heiligtümer im alten Mesopotamien. 1. Text. Berlin: de Gruyter. Lambert, W. G. 1962 A Catalogue of Texts and Authors. JCS 16: 59–77. 1968/69  A New Source for the Reign of Nabonidus. AfO 22: 1–8. Marzahn, J. and Schauerte, G. ed. 2008 Babylon. Wahrheit: eine Ausstellung des Vorderasiatischen Museums zu Berlin. München: Hirmer. Maul, S. M. 1999 Der assyrische König—Hüter der Weltordnung. Pp. 201–214 in Priests and Officials in the Ancient Near East. Papers of the Second Colloquium on the Ancient Near East—The City and its Life, held at the Middle Eastern Culture Center in Japan (Mitaka, Tokyo), March 22–24, 1996. Edited by K. Watanabe. Heidelberg: Winter. 2012 a Tontafelabschriften des Kodex Hammurapi in altbabylonischer Monumentalschrift. ZA 102: 77–99. 2012 b Paläographische Übungen am Neujahrstag. Monumentalschrift. ZA 102: 202–208. Mayer, W. R. 1987 Ein Mythos von der Erschaffung des Menschen und des Königs. OrNS 56: 55–68. Sachs, A. J. and Hunger, H. 1988–2006  Astronomical Diaries and Related Texts from Babylonia. Wien: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften. Schaudig, H. 2001 Die Inschriften Nabonids von Babylon und Kyros’ des Großen samt den in ihrem Umfeld entstandenen Tendenzinschriften. Textausgabe und Grammatik. AOAT 256. Münster: Ugarit-Verlag.

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Schnabel, P. 1923 Berossos und die babylonisch-hellenistische Literatur. Leipzig: Teubner. Schroeder, O. 1922 Keilschrifttexte aus Assur historischen Inhalts. Zweites Heft. Leipzig: Hinrichs. Soden, W. von 1932/33  Der Hymnisch-epische Dialekt. ZA 40 (1932): 163–227 and ZA 41 (1933): 90–183. 1995 Grundriss der akkadischen Grammatik. Analecta Orientalia 33. 3. Erg. Aufl. Roma: Pontificio Ist. Biblico. Streck, M. 1916 Assurbanipal und die letzten assyrischen Könige bis zum Untergang Niniveh’s. Leipzig: Hinrichs. Wiseman, D. J. and Black, J. A. 1996 Literary Texts from the Temple of Nabû. Cuneiform Texts from Nimrud 4. London: British School of Archaeology in Iraq.

Law and Literature in the Third Millennium b.c. Claus Wilcke

Leipzig and Munich This paper offers a bird’s-eye view of legal tradition and focuses on the interrelation of private and administrative law, on possible change in the relationship between administrations and individuals, and also—again with a bird’s-eye—on the tradition of literature; all this in, and a bit beyond, the “traditional society” of Mesopotamia in the third millennium b.c., and in a nutshell. I did not choose the title for the alliteration, with a bad vowel sequence at that. Creations of the human mind, law and literature build societal bonds and define a people’s identity. They are already age-old when they rise over the horizon of our perception in Ancient Mesopotamia’s Fāra period, in the 27th century b.c. when scribes begin to systematically use syllable signs to write texts, not just structured lists of words.

Law Early Documents Earlier, the “Blau Stones” document conveyances of landed property combining pictorial art and word lists, the “Ušumgal Stela” of the Metropolitan Museum of Art the creation of marital property in sculpture and writing, and the “Figure aux plumes” brings together visual art, poetry and perhaps a conveyance. In the Fāra period, we can for the first time distinguish parties (men and women) to, and objects of, purchases, prices and their formation, roles of different members of the contracting parties, their witnesses, affected neighbors and instrumental professionals like surveyors, heralds and scribes. Performative acts are, and additional codicils may be, recorded. 1 Legal transactions committed to writing increasingly diversify in Presargonic times, until the middle of the 24th century; one begins to document results of litigations. Diachronic change and diatopic difference of fundamental acts and in the wording of documents become evident. 1.  Edzard 1968; Gelb et al. 1991; Wilcke 1996; 2003, 2007a (see the review by I. Schrakamp in ZA 100 (2010) 142–148). Abbreviations in Presargonic documents: gd = g é m e d u m u “female workers with children”; i. = igi-n u - d u8 ‘blind? people,’ íl “carriers?,” lšd = l ú š u k u d a b5- b a “holders of sustenance fields,” šdd = šà-d u b d i d l i ‘single workers recorded in the center of the tablet.” L. = Lugal-anda; Ikg. = Iri-ka-gina; ry = royal year (of Iri-ka-gina).

13

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Claus Wilcke

Written obligations, surety 2 and hire come last into the arena of recorded contracts—but these, too, are by then as ancient as all the others. A recently published early Sargonic surety from Adab comes from an administrative context. It spells—sit venia verbo—‘unorthographically:’ CUSAS 13, 152:

1–2 3–6

7-rev.5 rev. 6–7



8–12



10

inim s[aĝĝa-ta(??)], dEn-líl-da ⸢a?⸣-[b]a-ti (10 túg PN1–3)×3, saĝ-níĝ-ga Lu[gal-níĝ-BE-du10]. (10 túg ⸢PN4–8[+1?]⸣)×6?[+1], dEn-líl-⟨da⟩ ⸢a⸣-[ba-ti], 5 (blank), igi Lugal-gú-šè, šu ba-ti-iš. I Lugal-níĝ-BE-du10 ⸢x⸣, INin-dalla dam dE[n-líl?-da?] lú sa-⸢gaz-za⸣, ILugal-gú, šu dú-a-bi ì-de5 3

[According to the temple administrator’s(?)] word: when Enlil-da was still alive (?), (from) PN1–3: 10 units of cloth (each): Lu[gal- níĝ-BE-du10] as original capital, (from) PN4–9?: 10 units of cloth (each): Enlil⟨da⟩, when? [he was still alive], had received them witnessed by 4 Lugal-gú. Lugal-gú guaranteed in this matter 5 for the . . . Lugal-níĝ-BE-du10 and for Nindalla, wife of E[nlil-da], who was slain.

Early Legislation ‘Decrees’ of the rulers regulate administrative affairs from as early as the time of En-metena, steward of Lagaš at the end of the 25th century, onwards. He granted “freedom” from corvee services. Three famous ‘decrees’ of Iri-ka-gina, king of Lagaš, claim to abolish the usurpation of divine property by rulers and to redress grievances. Issuing such decrees with the accession to the throne may, perhaps, date back to these early times. 6 King Urnamma (2112–2095), the founder of the IIIrd Dynasty of Ur, was, as far as we know, the first to cast together into a single law code such a ‘decree’ and regulations of penal and civil law. Miquel Civil’s edition of the Ur III exemplar of this pioneering work of legislature has just been published. 7 The Code of Lipit-Eštar (20th century), again, combines administrative reform with rules of civil law. But Hammurapi separates his law ‘code’ from a “decree” announced earlier in his reign. 8 By his time the ‘royal decree’ may already have developed into an edictum perpetuum as attested under his successors. 9 Pupils studied and copied his exemplary laws far into the first millennium b.c. in Babylonia, and in 2.  Contrary to Wilcke 22007a: 113 with n. 369, the until now oldest document explicitly recording a surety is pre-Sargonic (from Ĝirsu): CT 50: 31 ii 1–5: [2+]3,0.0 U r-dD u mu - z i, ù n u, L u g a l - š à, š u - d u8a-ni, ì -ȓe6 “⸢5⸣ kor of barley, (loan to) the cowherd U.: L. guaranteed for him” (in a list of loans handed out by the groom Amar-ezen; see below). 3.  Tentative reconstruction of the text; ll. 1–2 very uncertain; l. 13: unorthographic for š u - d u8- a bi ì-ȓe6; this Adab-text shows the dialectal variant d e5 for ȓ e6 known from Nippur; see Wilcke 2010: 3 + n. 11. 4.  Lit.: “in the presence of.” 5.  Lit.: “brought the relevant bound hands.” 6. Iri-ka-gina came to power first with the local title “steward” (é n s i) and became king a year later which may indicate the claim to rule a greater territory. He seems to have issued his first edict on assuming kingship; the second and the third one may result from political and economic worries and the loss of territory due to the wars with neighboring states (Uruk and Umma). 7.  Civil 2011. 8.  Wilcke 2002: 301; 2007b. 9.  Kraus 1984; Charpin 1987; 2004: 308–10; Wilcke 2007d: 214–16.

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Assyria, too, which had produced a different book of laws written down at the end the second millennium b.c. Old Babylonian schools also used different collections of legal rules as well as collections of model contracts and court decisions for study.

Legal Affairs Inside Public Administration Scholars take a keen interest in third millennium documents of private law. 10 Yet, these form an infinitely small part among the clay tablets recording economic activities of state and temple administrations, which were equally governed by law in their interior and external relations. I shall focus here on this aspect of Third Millennium law. Witnesses Proper accounting for the transaction leading to the Sargonic surety text quoted above seems to have been absent. Standardized amounts of cloth had been handed in (by foremen of work gangs?) to storage officials or merchants in the presence of a witness. And, indeed, transactions of government agencies needed witnesses— which are almost never mentioned—before, in Ur III times, acknowledgment of receipt by sealing administrative documents became normal practice. This witness is mentioned only because he acts as a surety, probably guaranteeing that the recipients—the widow of one of them is held responsible—will render a proper account. The Ur III document MVN 13, 456 11 similarly names witnesses for an administrative transaction. Investigations into such affairs may have led to sworn commitments like BPOA 1, 562 (ŠS 4–5, Umma): 23;0.0 še gur, mu dŠu-dSuʾen, lugal-e bàd Mar-tu mu-ȓú, 4 21;0.0 gur, mu ús-sa Šu-/dSuʾen lugal-e bàd, Mar-tu mu-ȓú, rev 8 á géme ḫuĝ-ĝá, lú-lunga-ke4-ne, še-bi A-ȓá-ĝu10 ba-an-na-zi, 11 níĝ-ka9 AK-bi tukum-bi, mu ús-sa dŠu-dSuʾen, lugal-e bàd Mar-tu mu-ȓú-a, 14 A-ȓá-ĝu10 nu-un-na, 15 še-bi su-su-da mu, lugal-bi in-pà. Seal: Ur-dSuʾen, dub-sar, dumu Ur-ĝišgigir, šà-[tam gu4] 12 1

d

23 Kor of barley: year ŠS 4; 21 Kor: year ŠS 5. Wages for hired female workers of the brewers. This barley was withdrawn for Aȓaĝu. He (= Aȓaĝu) swore by the kings name to pay back this barley, if Aȓaĝu does not make out the account for it within the year ŠS 5.

Contracts Concluded between Administrative Agencies The personalisation of offices, i.e., the identification of official and office, makes it almost impossible to differentiate contracts concluded between offices or agencies from those between private persons. And since secular and cultic offices alike functioned like benefices, 13 attempts at such a differentiation would be futile. Ur III records document a rich crop of purchases and loans in and between administrations, 14 but direct evidence in the form of contracts made between agencies, i.e., not by individuals, is scarce. Loans, e.g., are recorded as made between

10.  See, e.g., bibliographies in Lafont/Westbrook 2003; Wilcke 22007. 11.  See Wilcke 1999: 634 f. 12. It is the seal of Aȓaĝu’s brother; see o.c., seal of Nr. 1595: A-ȓá - ĝ u10, d u b - s a r, d u mu U rĝiš gi gir, š à-t a m. 13.  Wilcke 2007b: 112–14. 14.  Wilcke 2007b: 89–100, 115–21; 2008: passim.

16

Claus Wilcke

persons, and the non specific valutas credited, mostly grain or silver, don’t differ from those, in which dues to higher office were calculated. A sale and a loan of labor from the Ur III period were discussed recently. 15 We add the short time loan of work days MVN 3, 319 (IS 2 iii Nippur): á u4 10-kam, ú ZI+ZI zé!(AD)-dè, ki Ur-sa6-ga-ta, Gú-da, 5 šu ba-ti. Rs.6 u4-sákaršè, á ⟨u4⟩ 10-kam nu-gi4, ½ giĝ4 kù lá-e-da, mu lugal in-pà, 10 igi SUG.SUG, igi Níta-sa6-ga. 12 iti sig4-ga, l. edge 13 mu en dInana Unuki máš-⟨e⟩ ì-pà. 1

“Guda received from Ur-sa.g 10 man-days of labor for pulling out weeds. He swore by the king’s name to pay ½ shekel of silver if he does not return the 10 man-days of labor by the new moon.” Witnesses, Date.

Other credit arrangements in the context of labor to be performed by, or in, administrative agencies take different forms. MVN 3, 277 (ŠS 7 xi, Nippur) is a scribe’s sealed receipt for barley as (daily) wages for producing an unspecified amount of bricks. It therefore seems to be a prepaid purchase in the guise of a loan document. 2;0.0 še gur, á 5 sìla-ta, sig4 du8-dè, ki Lú-⟨diĝir-⟩pa-è-ta, Rev. 6 Ur-du6-kù-ga, šu ba-ti. Date. Seal: Ur-du6-kù-ga, dub-sar, dumu Lugal-ḫé-ĝál. U1 received 2 kor of barley, work for 5 liters (a day), from L. for producing bricks.

In MVN 3, 359 (undated, Nippur) the same creditor grants another such barley loan for the same purpose to be performed in month iii receipted with a sealed document: 0;1.4 še lugal, á-bi 5 sìla-ta, ki Lú-diĝir-pa-è-ta, Ur-dBa-ú, šu ba-ti, iti sig4-a du8-dadam. Seal: Ur-dBa-ú, dumu Ur-dLama U2 received 1 bushel 4 seah (= 100 liter) of barley, the work for it at 5 liters (a day), from L. he will produce (bricks in) the brick month.

In Gomi 1980: 36 (-,xii, Lagaš), a certain Ur-Igalim takes out a barley loan for feeding the work force (éren) in the bala-service: 1;4.0.1 sìla še gur lugal, šà-gal éren bala gub-ba, ki Lú-me-lám-ta, Ur-dIg-alim, rev. 5 šu ba-ti, su-su-dam, (blank space), iti še íl. U. received 1 royal kor, 4 bushel, 1 liter of barley from L. as food for the troop active in the bala-service. It will be repaid. Month xii.

SNAT 132 (ŠS 4 vi, Lagaš) is a silver loan for hired work. The debtor swears a promissory oath to repay it: ½ giĝ4 10 še kù-babbar, kù á ḫuĝ-ĝá, ki Ur-Bàd-dab5-ra-ta, Ur-dIg-alim, rev.  5 šu ba-ti, su-su-dam, mu lugal in-pà, iti ezen dDumu-zi, mu ús-sa Si-ma-númki ba-ḫul. U2 received ½ shekel 10 grain of silver, silver for hired work, from U1. He swore by the king’s name that it will be repaid. Date.

MVN 6, 68 (Š 38 i-viii, Lagaš; transliteration only) lists a group of 11 workers at different daily silver equivalents per person for periods of different length and payments made for them by 6 different officials. The account for them, perhaps made out by their overseer, results in a deficit.

15.  Wilcke 2007b: 91 with n. 66; 2007c.

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1 11 ĝuruš 1 giĝ4-ta, iti burux(GÁNA)-maš-ta, iti gu4-ȓá bí mú-mú-šè, á-bi 1⁄3-ša 2 giĝ4 kù, 5 11 ĝuruš 2⁄3 ⟨giĝ4⟩-ta, iti ezen dLi9-si4-ta, iti ezen dBa-ú-šè, iti 6-kam, á-bi 2⁄3-ša 4 giĝ4.|| 10 šu-níĝin 1 ma-na 4 giĝ4 kù-babbar, saĝ níĝ-ga-ra-kam, 12 šà-bi-ta, Rs. 13 13 giĝ4 Ur-dEn-ki, 12 giĝ4 Ba-zi, 15 7 giĝ igi 3(!)-ĝál, Lú-dBa-ú, 10 giĝ4 lá 15 še kù-babbar, ĝìri Ur-Ti-ra-aš, || 2 giĝ4 : kù á-gul : kù-babbar, 20 É-ki saĝĝa d Nin-mar, 5 giĝ4 in-na-du8, 22 šu-níĝin 2⁄3-ša 2 giĝ4 igi 4-ĝál kù-babbar, mu-kux(DU). 24 lá-ì 1⁄3-ša 2 giĝ4 lá igi 4-ĝál, níĝ-ka9 Ab-ba-ĝu10, mu ús-sa bàd ma-da ba-ȓú.

11 men at 1 shekel each, from month i to month ii: their work amounts to 22 shekel of silver, 11 men at 2⁄3 shekel each, from month iii to viii—that is of 6 months—their work amounts to 44 shekel. Total: 1 pound 4 shekel of silver. It is the starting capital. Out of this: 13 shekel: U1, 12 shekel: B., 71⁄3(!) shekel: L., 9 shekel, 165 grain of silver: U2. 2 shekel of silver, silver for demolition work: E., temple administrator of (goddess) Ninmar 5 shekel were remitted to him. Total: 42 shekel, 45 grain of silver were brought in. Deficit: 21 shekel, 135 grain of silver. Account of Abba-ĝu. Year name.

Deficits like this one will have led to demands for indemnification as documented in MVN 7, 275 (Š 34, Lagaš): lá-ì 10.40 lá-2 géme u4-1-šè, si-ì-tum níĝ-ka9 ak, géme a-ru-a ù géme ĝištukul-e dab5-ba, iti šu-numun, mu Kára-kínki a-ȓá 3-kam-aš ba-ḫul-a-ta, iti ezen dŠul-gi, mu An-šaanki ba-ḫul-šè, Ur-dNin-ĝiz-zi-da dumu Ur-dBa-ú su-su-dam, mu An-ša-anki ba-ḫul. U1, child of U2 will repay the deficit of 638 work days of female workers, rest of the account of female oblates and female workers taken captive by force of arms, from month iv of year Š 33 until month vii of year Š 34. Date.

Receipts sealed by single persons for, e.g., a loan of barley, or loans of workers attest similar legal obligations between agencies or branches of one such agency: •  loan of 60 Kor of barley “because of the troops:” BPOA 6, 34. •  one named worker from (the gang under) PN1 debited to PN2 for 19 months: BPOA 1, 873 •  the abstract amount of 454 man days from (the contingent of) PN1 debited to PN2: BPOA 1, 875. •  DP 137 (time of Ikg.) 16 is a Presargonic assignment for service at the É-šà temple of three groups of workers “born in debt” (10, 5 and 5 men), each led by an overseer (u g u l a), to three different men, only one of them identical 16.  DP 137: i 1 IUr-du6, ugula, dumu Dun-dun, ILugal-iri, IUr-dun, IEn-šà-kúš, ii 1 IMaš-gu-la, IMaš-tur, ii 3 I Niĝinx(nanše)-ki-du10, IÙšur-ra-sa6, IAn.dur, IUr-é, dumu Me-an-né-si, iii 1 lú Lugal-níĝ-ĝá-ni-me. iii 2 I Ur-É-bábbar, IÚ-ú, IŠaḫ, IŠaḫ, min-kam-ma, iv 1 IUr-É-bábbar, ugula iri, iv 3 lú Bù-la-ni-me. iv 4 I Ur-na-ȓú-a, IEn-du, IUr-dĜiš-bar-è, IAma-ĝiš-gi-si, v 1 IÉ-úr, ugula, lú É-úr-me, ur5-dú É-šà-ga-me. v5I En-ig-gal, IA-ba-sá, IÚ-ú, dub-sar-me, v9I Kì-num, INíĝ-lú, IEn-ùšur, IAmar-gírid, vi 1 I Amar-ki, ugula, IÉ-úr, INíĝ-lú, 5 IKur-šu-né-éš, IEn-dalla, vi 8 IÚ-ú, IE-ta-e11, IInim-ma-ni-zi, 10 ISaĝšu-nu-bad, lú Amar-ki-me, lú inim-ma-bi-me. — Undated; underlined: names in Amar-ki’s elite troop in Ikg. ry 6: DP 135 i 1-ii 11; iii 3–4; dotted: scribes in Ikg steward, ii: AWAS 5 v 3–7 (3–4: En-ig-gal, nubanda) followed by professionals (dashed underline) in v 10–14.)

18

Claus Wilcke with his gang’s overseer (u g u l a i r i). Three scribes (among them En-ig-gal, the administrator of the Baʾu temple) witnessed what looks like a transferal of work capacities and responsibilities among different administrations. The scribes lead perhaps the agencies providing the workers. Further witnesses are four individuals and a fourth work gang of nine including its overseer.

Vicarious Sealing and Receipt Sealing of receipts became standard practice and, perhaps, obligatory in Ur III times. A substitute seal of another person, a family member, 17 a friend or colleague was used, if debtors or otherwise obliged persons were unable to apply their own seal. Such vicarious sealing would in turn create a suretyship of the owner of this seal. The documents record these substitutions in order to avoid ensuing conflicts. They often demand that a new document be issued as soon as the debtor’s seal became available. 18 Or, if the seal continued to be unavailable, a new document could be written demanding that the original with the substitute seal be broken on the debtors delivery. 19 The elliptically written court document NG 2, 208: 11–21 (Š 37, Lagaš) may deal with such a case: 20 4;4.0 še gur lugal, kišib Lugal-nám-maḫ, Ur-re-ba-ab-du7, in-da-ĝál-àm, 15 inim Lugal-ná[m-(maḫ)]-a sá im-mi-íb-du11, Ur-re-ba-ab-du7, kišib-ĝu10 zi-ra-ab, in-na-ab-du11-ga, [Lugal]-nám-maḫ, érim-bi ku5-dam, P[N maškim].

20

nam-

It is so that 4 royal kor, 4 bushel of barley, sealed receipt of L., are with (or: owed by) U. Word of L. was being sent: ‘L. will swear the declaratory oath that U. had been told: «Break the document sealed by me!»’

Similar complications could arise, if the creditor did, or could, not keep ready the document sealed by the debtor at the time the debt was settled and the tablet could not be broken. The creditor then had to issue and seal a new document stating his obligation to cancel the debt in his documents as stated, e.g., in MVN 3, 363 (undated, Drēhim): 21

17.  See, e.g., above with n. 12. 18.  See examples in Wilcke 1988: 20–21 with nn. 78–81; 29 with n. 101. 19. See MVN 13, 888(case)||889(tablet) (ŠS 4): 3.06;0.0 še gur lugal, kišib Si-a-a, ki Qú-ru-sà(,) ì-ĝál, Qú-ru-sà, tùm-dam, zi-re-dam, mu ús-sa dŠu-dSuʾen, lugal Uri5ki-ma-ke4, bàd mar-tu mu-ri-iq, Tiid-ni-im mu-ȓú. “186 royal kor of barley: the sealed receipt of Ši-aya is at Qurussa’s. Qurussa will bring it. (The tablet) is to be broken.” Date. (The copy shows no seal on either tablet or case). Receipt by proxy is shown by the broken case MVN 13, 885 (ŠS 1?) 2;0.0 še gur lugal še ur5-ra máš ĝ[á-ĝá], ki Si-a-a-ta, Kur-bi-la-ak šu ba-ti, [mu] Kur-bi-la-ak-šè, [Ì-lí]-aš-ra-ni šu ba-ti. [reverse broken], (near upper edge) mu Š[u-dSuʾe]n? lugal. Seal: Kur-bi-la-ak, [dumu X]-lu-a, [( )] ugula-ĝéš-da. “Kurb-ilak received 2 royal kor of barley, a barley loan bearing interest, from Ši-aya. [Ilī]-ašranni received it for (lit. because of) Kurbilak. [. . .].” Date. Seal of Kurb-ilak. 20.  A. Falkenstein understood ll. 11–15 differently: „die Tafel des Lugal-túg-maḫ befindet sich bei Urrebabdu. (Auf) das Wort des Lugal-túg⟨-maḫ⟩ hat (Urrebabdu) darum prozessiert“ (reading d i i m m i-íb-du11, but, as we now know, the /-b-/ before the perfective base would need an inanimate agent; and ĝál with an animate comitative often refers to debts owed by some one). 21.  See Wilcke 1988:24.

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54 udu, 14 ud5, kišib mu lugal pà-da, Šu-dNisaba-ka-bi, 5 pisaĝ Ur-dBa-ú-ka, ì-inĝál-la, rev. 7 Šu-dNisaba-ke4, nam-érim-bi in-ku5, kišib Ur-dŠul-pa!-è-ka, 10 pisaĝ Urd Ba-ú,-ka ì-in-ĝál-la-⸢ta⸣, tur-re-dam. Seal: Ur-dŠu[l-pa]-⸢è⸣, dub-sar, dumu Ur-dDumu-zi. 54 sheep and 14 goats: Šū-Nisaba swore the relevant declaratory oath that the sealed document (recording) Šū-Nisaba’s promissory oath concerning them is present in Ur-Ba’u’s (tablet) container. They (= the animals) have to be deducted from Ur-Šulpaʾe’s sealed document which is present in Ur-Baʾu’s (tablet) container.

Preservation of sealed receipts could become essential, if losses occurred in the course of further transactions: In the year AS 8 MVN 14, 231 ordered two three and one year old receipts for equids not to be destroyed when Kas4 was succeeded as head of the Umma draught animal stables (é-gu4; see Heimpel 1995:131 no. 46; Wilcke 2010b) by Ĝiš-ĝu10, who had receipted the assets (gub-ba) in circulation (DU. DU) and to who’s account they had been debited. Yet three equids had been missing in the inspection. Therefore the receipts for circulating equids the plow man (or cattle inspector) Ur-dŠára had given to Kas4 in the years AS 5 and 7, and which had been passed on (for reasons unknown) to a certain Ur-dNun-gal, had to be kept intact. Penalties, Penal Damages, and Fines Penal damages may be involved when barley debts are calculated at rates higher than the standard of 1 shekel of silver per kor. In the barley loan Gomi 1980: 55 (Š 31, provenance uncertain) handed out by the (provincial) minister of finance (ša12-dub-ba) the standard rate is almost doubled. 3;4.3.2 sìla še gur lugal, kù-bi 8 giĝ4 lá igi 4-ĝál kù-babbar, ki Ur-dSuʾen ša12-dubba-ta, rev. 4 Ur-Ni9-ĝar ù Gù-dé-a, su-su-dam U2 and G. will repay 3 royal kor, 4 bushel, 3 seah, 2 liter of barley, i.e., the silver for it: 7¾ shekel of silver, (received) from the minister of finance U1. The rate barley :: silver is at 2½ even higher in MVN 6, 151 (Š 39, Lagaš; sealed by the son of the debtor): 1.14;4.5 še gur lugal 2½ gíĝ4-ta, kù-bi 3 ma-na 7 giĝ4 igi 3-ĝál, || še zì?-ka, rev. 4 [ki] Níĝ-dBa-ú-ta, Ur-tur su-su-dam, || mu é Puzur4-iš-dDa-gan ba-ȓú. Seal: Ur-bàd-dab5-ra, dub-sar, dumu Ur-tur U1 will repay 74 royal kor, 4 bushel, 5 seah of barley at 2½ shekel (per kor), i.e., the silver for it: 3 pound, 7½ shekel, barley for flour, 22 (received) from N.

Administrations seemingly had some jurisdiction over holders of subordinate offices and could inflict indemnities and (multiple) punitive damages for offences within their area of responsibility: •  a man who bought 1 Kor of barley from the granary of a mill had to replace the barley, and the seller had to pay an indemnity (zíz-da): Sigrist 1991 no. 190 (AS 2 ix, Lagaš) 23, •  a slave found in possession of stolen mutton, “took 2 mountain sheep (udu kur) from the sheep of (his master) N. for the shepherd office to replace this

22.  Uncertain; read perhaps š e é š - k a “silver for one of the prison” (cf. é - é š - k “prison”)? 23.  Wilcke 1991.

20

Claus Wilcke grain fattened sheep, and paid them as indemnity;” this was witnessed by two persons: SNAT 373: 1–11. 24

The summary account BPOA 2, 1883 lists silver fines for •  not watering fields: up to 2 pounds of silver, •  not fixing the scalepan to the beam: 10 shekels, •  dragging wood from the woods: 10 shekels, •  a deficit in a dumu dab5-ba contingent: 2 shekels, •  not leading out a ḫé - d a b5 contingent to the field: 1 shekel per diem.

And TCTI 2, 3423 records silver fines of 10 shekel per person for •  bringing parts of furniture out of a temple, 25 •  because poplar brushwood from the woods had been seized on their backs. 26

Graver offences were adjudicated under higher authority: The case of the slave, who gave his master’s sheep as indemnity, leads to another litigation. The fact is proven (ba-gi-in) to the master N.’s administrator (šabra) A., who refers the case to the governor to award punishment. The governor inspects the master’s document(s) and has him (the master or the slave?) taken away to gouge? his eye(s): SNAT 373:12-end. The law court of the inhabitants of Ĝaršana inflicted a duplum penalty for using another man’s donkey. It had to be paid to the owner or possessor: BPOA 1:602. Unspecified judges handed out multiple fines for •  misappropriation of daily offerings: AAICAB pl. 266d •  theft or embezzlement of palace property: AAICAB pl. 104a •  prison was awarded for the embezzlement of silver: NATN 32

The king himself imposed the death penalty on a son of the administrator (saĝĝa) of the Inana temple at Nippur, who was convicted of having “stolen from king AmarSuʾena’s mouth” (he probably had defalcated offerings for the king’s statue). Pardoned by father and king, the high born culprit later accused his father of multiple sacrileges, was unable to prove it and was put to death: Durand 1977. 27 Superior Office and Subordinates A chain of demand from high office downwards to the lowest and equally a chain of obligation from the lowest up to the highest ruled the administrations. Both chains were rooted in a system of contracts. From infancy members of an institution, e.g., a temple or an estate, office holders and permanently employed workers were bound to standardized rules specifying obligations, terms of service and rules for remuneration, by endowing offices with possession and usufruct of fields 24.  Transliteration and tentative translation: Wilcke 1991; I now understand u d u - n i g a - e (l. 5) as /udu-niga-e-š(è)/ “sheep-grain fattened-this-terminative” since the directive has no distributive function; ‘x as a replacement of y’ would be expressed by /x s a ĝ y - a k - š è/ or simply by /x y - š è/.—Here the first offence leads to a second one; see below for ll. 12–27. 25.  TCTI 3423:1–6: 10 g i ĝ4 k ù A- ab- ba, 10 g iĝ4 kù N i ĝ i r- a n - n é - z u , mu s a g? ĝišb a n š u r ù ka ⸢um bi nx?⸣(⟨gad⟩.úr×⸢kíd?⸣)- n a, é dNin- g ibil4- le - k a m u - ĝ á l - l a - à m, i m- ⸢ ma ⸣ - ra - è - a - š è “10 shekel A., 10 shekel N., because the ‘table-head’ and the. . . of the (table’s?) leg (lit., claws)—it is a fact that they had been in the temple of (goddess) Nin-gibille—had been brought out. 26.  TCTI 3423:7–9: 10 gi ĝ4 Ur -dBa- ú, 10 g iĝ4 Ḫ u - ru, mu ú ĝišá s a l ĝišti r- [ t] a mú rg u - n e - n e - a im-m a-a -dab5-ba - šè. 27.  See Roth 1984; Wilcke 1985: 221–24, n. 12.

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to sustain the holder and his household including the right of surviving dependents to rent it out. It would also provide loans (še ur5-ra “interest bearing barley loan”), perhaps at special terms, to tide over officials and workers until after harvest time, and land leases, the terms for which are never specified. 28 The remuneration of laborers working full time or for a part of the year took the form of daily or monthly rations which also took care of special social conditions with, e.g., extra rations for mothers with children, for children supporting parents etc., and, in addition, stimulating the performance through the possibility to accumulate property when achieving results above the norm. All these rules and those for hired workers 29 and rented animals and material like boats 30 were—as far as we know—principally part of the traditional common law. Tariffs in the Codex Urnamma But the Codex Urnamma (CU) 31 begins a tradition of fixing tariffs which continues into the Isin-Larsa and Old Babylonian periods. It establishes rates for land leases (§40–42), the rent of houses (§F4), for the hire of oxen (§B1) and, differentiating according to seasons, of boats (§C8–9) and artisans, and the remuneration of female weavers and wet nurses (§D8 and E2). It determines fees of physicians, prices for pots (§D2) and houses (§F1–3) and terms for credit in the ale house (§D9). Random as the choice of objects and their spread over the second half of his laws may seem—the laws are arranged according to thematically arranged chapters— this may mark the king’s new need to control the costs of production, services and transport in the newly (re)united empire after the disintegration of the political, legal and economic system in the Gutian period (see §E3a-b), perhaps also to protect personnel from exploitation. Surplus and Deficit Office holders had accounts with their superior office, could bank surpluses (diri) and deficits (OS lá-a, Ur III lá-ì). Deficits were debited to the account (Presargonic gú-na/ne-ne-a ĝar, lit. “to put on his/their neck”, Ur III a-gù PN-ka ĝar, lit. “to put on top of PN”); withdrawals were debited to it (Ur III: in(/ba-an)-na-zi, lit., “withdrawn for him”). 32 Deficits accumulated over several years are already known from Presargonic and Sargonic times: mu-a-kam (/mu-e-ak-am/) “is of this year”, im-ma-kam “is of last year”, im(-) im-ma-kam “is of last year but one” (e.g., DP 280; 281) and earlier deficits: im-ma-šè àga gi4-a-kam “it belongs to what was left behind for last year” (DP 422). They were set off against a surplus (e.g., AWL 97 viii 1). Losses had to be explained by declaratory oaths. 28.  Wilcke 2007: 88 with n. 57. The še a p i n - l á - d a b a - a (Ur III) is the share of the institution; the total yield and the share of the lessee go unmentioned. The lessee also had to pay the institution the še gub-ba tax related to the size of the cultivated area (according to AWL 9) and the m a š a - š à - g a tax for irrigation (Steinkeller 1981) payable in silver or as š e k ù m a š - b a “barley of its silver tax”, e.g., in AWEL 102. In Ur III times the š e g u b - b a may be included in the š e a p i n - l á - d a b a - a (e.g., BPOA 6:88); Presargonic Lagaš documents deduct the irrigation tax from the š e g u b - b a tax: š e k ù m a š - b a ì-sù “the barley of its silver tax was restored”. 29. The rates for hired laborers were about twice as high as those of workers employed permanently; see Waetzoldt 1987: 135 with n. 131. 30.  Wilcke 2007b: 79–88. 31.  See Wilcke 2002 and now Civil 2011; new edition by Wilcke to appear in Babel und Bibel 8. 32.  Wilcke 2007b: 102–5.

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The conditions turning a deficit into an offence prosecuted by superior offices, punished with a fine (e.g., BPOA 2, 1883, above) or executed into property and family of the defaulter or even a (stipulated) death penalty 33 are still unknown. Longtime overdrafts were common in the Ur III period, even though the 24 years of Lusaga, son of Ur-ki’aĝĝu, which may have run out only because of his death, 34 will not have been the norm. Temporary imprisonment allowed a debtor to work off the amount due. The many Ur III prison-records not identifying any offence committed may relate to it. The utmost penalty and means to recover dues was enslavement. 35 Presargonic deficit accounting at Lagaš took, perhaps, several steps. In the first one, deficits resulting from delict and from other causes may not have been differentiated. If this was not contested the documents would note that it was debited to the relevant account: gú-na e-né-ĝar (AWEL 232: ⟨e-⟩né-ĝar), gú-ne-ne-a e-neĝar (/i-na-e-n-ĝar-∅, i-ne-e-n-ĝar-∅/). Several documents show defaulters accused of, or charged with, deficits: ba-dal á (/ba-n.da-lá-∅/); pl. ba-PI-lá (/ba-ne.da-lá-∅/) “he was (/they were) accused of it” 36 (*asterisk in the list below); others mention “its commissioner” (maškim-bi: AWL 183 iv 1–4; DP 278 viii 6–7; • in the list below). 37 The maškim collected evidence for law courts. Both these mutually exclusive formulations suggest investigations in court of causes, delictal or not, of the deficit. 38 The litigation could reveal possible reasons to suspend or even cancel the execution of the obligation. Reasons given for suspending or canceling execution in an Ur III inspection of draft animals 39 and in other contexts 40 suggest such a course of action.

33.  Temple administrators (s a ĝ ĝ a) and other high ranking personnel of the province Lagaš stipulate a death penalty if they let their watered fields fall dry and, again, water it without the chancellor’s (and governor’s of Lagaš: s u k k a l - m a ḫ) permission; see the documents assembled in Lafont 1994: 98– 99; see also stipulated “Death for Default” in Owen 1977 (IS 2, Nippur) and MVN 16, 1243 (ŠS 7, Umma): [Lú] -di ĝir-ra-ke4, na- ab- bé - a, m u lug al t uk umb i, i ti mi n - è š - ta u4 26 z a l - l a - a, 5 [1]5? g i ĝ4 k ù àm, [nu] -ù-lá, rev. 7 [g a]z- da bí- in-⸢du11⸣, [i g i] A - t u - š [ è], i g i Ur-dSu ʾ e n n a r- š è, mu ma - d a Z a ab -ša -li ba -ḫul. Seal: Lú- diĝ ir - r a, dub- sar, dum u D a - d a - ⸢a?⸣. “Lu-diĝira declared as follows: ‘By the king’s name: Have I not paid [1]5? shekel of silver, when the 26th day of month vii has passed, (I) may be [kil]led.” Atu and the singer Ur-dSuʾen were witnesses.” Date, Seal: “Ludiĝira, scribe, child of Dadaʾa.” 34.  Wilcke 2007b: 106–7 with nn. 118–20. 35.  Waetzoldt/Sigrist 1993; Wilcke 2005; 2007b: 102–12. 36.  See Wilcke apud Selz 1993/2: 403 ad AWAS 45 ii 2–3. 37.  Cf., e.g., Foster 1982: no. 55 from Sargonic Umma. 38.  Commissioners occurring in other account texts like AWL 180 v 3; AWEL 131 ii 2–4; 135 ii 1–2 or Sollberger 1948:7 MAH 15856 vi 7–8 may also have been employed in pre trial investigations; so too, e.g., in the account of š e g u b - b a -dues BIN 8, 61 from Zabalam (Lugal-zagesi year 7). I read and restore AWEL 131: i 1 ⸢20?⸣[ mudx(LAK 449)? ga], tap[in! g]a!-ba ĝá!-⸢ĝá!⸣-dè, e-ba, 0;0.3 tapin, aga-ús, é-gal-la, ii 1 ì-gu7. E-ta, muḫaldim, maškim-bi, ii 5 0;0.2 tapin, aga-ús é gal-la, x(LAK 151?)-da, iii 1 e-da-gu7, 0;0.1 saĝ x an-na-⸢ka⸣, ⸢udu!?⸣ šum-dè, A-[lú], 5 ⸢muḫaldim⸣, ⸢šu ba⸣-ti, iii 7 [x] tapin, iv 1 ki-gi4 ga-a, ĝá-ĝá-dè, E-ta, muḫaldim, šu ba-ti. 4. “20? [milk amphoras] were allotted for putting flour into their milk. Soldiers used up 3 ul of flour in the palace. The cook E-ta was commissioner. Soldiers together with . . . used up 2 ul of flour in the palace. The cook A. received 1 ul for slaughtering a sheep for/in the . . . The cook E-ta again received [x ul of] flour for putting it into the milk. Year 4.”—For ki-gi4 see Wilcke 1996:58; 64. 39.  Wilcke 2010: 356f. with n. 23; 358 with nn. 28, 30–31. 40.  Wilcke 2007b: 107f. with nn. 122–23.

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Runtimes of obligations and of documents recording them could be prolonged (su-su gíd, dub gíd) 41 and so, too, scheduled work periods (kíĝ gíd-da). 42 The conditions are unknown. These ways of mitigating strict executions of debts may be seen as a means to create a smoothly running economy. Superiors had to give subordinates documents stating bookings, whether they met the prescribed demand, could secure a surplus or ended up with a deficit. One recorded, who kept the relevant document, if—for what reason ever—such a document could not be handed out: MVN 5, 26 (AS 3): 30 ma-na siki, ki Ur-dNin-tu-ta, a-gù Šeš-sig5-⟨ ka⟩ ba-a-ĝar. kišib a-gù-a ĝá-ra-bi Šeš-sig5⟨-e⟩ šu la-ba-ti, Rs. 5 kišib Šeš-sig5, ki Ur-dNin-tu-ka mu-ĝál. 7mu kù gu-za dEn-líl-lá ba-dím.

1 4

30 pounds of wool (received) from PN1 were debited to PN2’s account. PN2 received no document about this debit. PN2’s document is available at PN1’s. Date.

Almost all (fat characters in the list below) Presargonic deficit 43-(lá-a)-documents from Lagaš state that the head of the administration (nu-bànda “inspector”, énsi “steward” or queen Sasa) “exchanged (bala with comitative; or with dative in the nominal sentence part, but comitative in the verb: AWEL 232, time of Ikg.) the relevant tablets with” the defaulter(s) 44 before debiting the deficit to their official accounts on the “broad tablets.” 45 The exchange of documents finalizes the process of deficit booking. It protects the debtor from arbitrary demands of the superior office and, on the other hand, secures its just claims. DP 539 (Ikg. ry 4) ends with the remark that tablets had not been exchanged with 2 persons. Here the deficit is obviously still sub iudice. 46 41.  Wilcke 2006a; 2007b: 107 with n. 122. 42.  ITT 3, 6316; see Wilcke 1988: 25. 43.  See also AWL 9 (L.? 6), an account of barley, lord’s property, spent by the plough-man Saĝ-ĝátuku-a as seeds, fodder and losses: vi 4 En- ig - g al, nu- b à n d a, d u b - b é e - d a - b a l a. 44. Selz 1993/1: 402–3 ad AWAS 45 iv 4–v 1 translates the relevant phrase “hat En-iggal, der Generalverwalter, ihnen eine (Schuld)tafel darüber ausgefertigt (und) ihnen (dies) auf ihr Schuldkonto gesetzt.” He follows Krecher 1974: 265–66, who had criticized the apparent disregard of the absolutive case of dub “a/the tablet” and the very free translation of PSD B (s.v. bal D 1.2.3) of AWL 185. Krecher proposed instead: “ ‘Mit’ (sc. dem Einversändnis von) PN1, . . ., hat PN2, der Inspektor, die (betreffende) Tafel (d.h., die auf jener ursprünglichen Quittungstafel vermerkte Menge an Gerste?) übertragen (und die Gerstemenge dem PN (neuerlich) belasted).” But his analysis disregards the explicit dative (instead of the comitative of AWL 185 and AWEL 242?; 279) in the nominal sentence part of AWEL 232 “the inspector U., who had transferred the tablet about it to D. together with him.” This dative is also present implicitly, where nominal ‘chains’ end in a final vowel (/..V-r/): AWEL 220; 262; DP 278; 495. Most of the relevant clauses don’t include the agent’s partner(s) at all in the nominal sentence part. The datives clearly highlight them as recipients of the tablet(s) mentioned. The comitative present in all verb forms cannot mark a recipient of the object of the action, yet, it can mark a second member in a pair of agents. Therefore both personal participants in the action seem to transfer the object (absolutive case) d u b ( - b é) “the tablet(s) (about it)” and both are recipients of it(/them): an exchange. 45.  See Bauer 1972: 296 ad AWL 97 vii 8. 46.  See, e.g., DP 253 iv 31; 277 vi 4; 422 iii 5; 495 iii 1; RTC 66 x 6. In some cases the inspector passed on existing tablets (du b - b é e - b a l a) seemingly to be controlled by a different agency or, if dues were not delivered, for further use.

24

Claus Wilcke En-entarzi AWL 185 i 3 Lugal-piriĝ-tur, saĝĝa É-bábbar-da, ii 1 Šubur, nu-bànda, É-ki-šal4-laka, še e-bala-a, dub e-da-bala, iii 1 gú-na e-né-ĝar. 4. The inspector Š., having transferred the barley into the E., exchanged tablets with L., the administrator of the Ebabbar temple, and put it on his account. AWEL 99 ii 1 Šubur, nu-bànda, še e-bala-a, dub e-da-bala, iii 1gú-na e-né-ĝar. 5.

Lugal-anda AWEL 220 ii 5Lugal-an-da, énsi, iii 1Lagaški-ke4, é-gal-la, amar šu-a bí-gi4-a, ugulane, iv 1 [dub-bé e-PI]-bala!. [gú-n]e-ne-[a], e-ne-ĝar. 1. VS 25, 50 iii 4 Šul-me, [e-n]e-ĝar. 1.

iv 1

⸢nu-bànda⸣, ⸢É-e-sír⸣-ra-ka, dub e-PI-bala, gú-ne-ne-a,

•AWL 183 ii 3 ku6 pisaĝ ĝar-ra-šè nu-mu-ȓe6-a-ka-nam, Šubur, nu-bànda, gú-nene-a, e-ne-ĝar. iv 1 Gala-tur, aga-ús, maškim-bi. 1. •DP 278 viii 1 Bára-nam-tar-ra, dam Lugal-an-da, énsi, Lagaški-ka, 5 En-ig-gal, nu-bànda, viii 7 šu-ku6 ab-ba-ke4-ne, É-mí-a, dub-bé e-PI-bala, gú-ne-ne-a, e-ne-ĝar. Dam-diĝir-ĝu10, maškim-bé. 2. *AWEL 262 i 1 lá-a (amont of cheese, PN)×2, ii 1 sipa ud5-ke4-ne, ba-PI-lá, En-iggal, nu-bànda, iii 1 iti ezen dBa-ú-ka, dub-bé e-PI-bala, gú-ne-ne-a ⟨e-ne-ĝar⟩, Báranam-tar-ra, iv 1 dam Lugal-an-da, énsi, Lagaški-ka. 2. AWEL 175 v 2 lá-a udu gurum-ma šid-da, Bára-nam-tar-ra, dam Lugal-an-da, énsi, vi 1Lagaški-ka, En-ig-gal nu-bànda, abzu ki é-ka-ka, gurum e-a5-a, sipa-dè-ne, vii 1 dub-bé e-PI-bala, gú-ne-ne-a, e-ne-ĝar. 2. AWEL 261 iv 3 ì gaʾara(LAK 240) lá-a, sipa ud5-ke4-ne, Bára-nam-tar-ra, v 1 dam Lugal-an-da, énsi, Lagaški-ka, En-ig-gal, nu-bànda, iti ezen dBa-ú-ka, vi 1 dub-bé e-PI-bala, gú-ne-ne-a, e-ne-ĝar. 3. DP 282 v 3 En-ig-gal, nu-bànda, eger ezen munu4 gu7, dNanše-ka-ta, dub e-PIbala,vi 1 gú-ne-ne-a, e-ne-ĝar, vi 3 Bára-nam-tar-ra, dam Lugal-an-da, énsi, Lagaškika. 3. *AWAS 85 iv 5 En-ig-gal, v 1 nu-bànda, dub e-PI-bala. gú-ne-ne-a e-ne-ĝar. 3.” *AWL 184 ii 4 iti ezen dBa-ú-ka, 5 En-ig-gal, iii 1 nu-bànda, dub-bi e-da-bala,iii 3 gú-na e-né-ĝar. iii 4 Bára-nam-tar-ra, iv 1 dam Lugal-an-da, énsi, Lagaški-ka. 4. AWL 186 v 2 En-ig-gal, nu-bànda, iti Ezen dLugal-Úru-ka-ka, 5 du[b-b]é ⸢e-PI-bala⸣, gú-ne-ne-a, e-ne-ĝar. vi 1 Bára-am-tar-ra, dam Lugal-an-da, énsi, Lagaški-ka. 4.

v6

*DP 249 ii 2 eger ezen munu4 gu7, dNanše-ta, En-ig-gal, iii 1 [nu]-bànda, dub-bé e-da-bala. iii 3 gú-na e-né-ĝar. iii 4 Bára-nam-tar-ra, dam Lugal-an-da, iv 1 [énsi,] L[agašk]i-ka. 5. *VS 25, 30 iii 1 En-ig-gal, nu-bànda, iti ezen munu4 gu7, dNanše-ka, iv 1 É-mí-a, dubbé e-da-bala, gú-na e-né-ĝar. 5. RTC 42 iii 6 udu ú-rum, iv 1 Bára-nam-tar-ra, dam Lugal-an-da, énsi, Lagaški-ka, iv 4 En-ig-gal, nu-bànda, kun i7-tur-ra-ka, v 1 gúrum-bé e-a5, gú-ne-ne-a, e-ne-ĝar. 5.

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*AWAS 45 I 1 lá-a (amount of barley, amount of white emmer, PN, (1× scribe,) bada-lá)×3, iii 5 lú-lunga-me, iv 1 iti še-gur10-ku5-ra, En-ig-gal, nu-bànda, dub-bé e-PIbala, gú-⸢ne-ne-a⸣, v 1 e-ne-ĝar, Bára-nam-tar-ra, dam Lugal-an-da, énsi, Lagaškika. 6.

Iri-ka-gina AWEL 242 ii 1 kuš šu-a gi4-a-am6, Dun-ne-nu-um-da, iii 1 ⟨dub? 47⟩ ⸢e⸣-da-[b]ala. 1. DP 557 iii 1 En-ig-gal, nu-bànda, dub-bé e-PI-bala, gú-ne-ne-a, 5 e-ne-ĝar. rum, dBa-ú, Iri-ka-gi-na, iv 1 lugal, Lagaški. 1.

iii 6

še ú-

DP 280 (= 281, without “SAR.RU-am6”) 48 iv 1 lá-a ku6 dusu, šu-ku6 ab-ba-ke4-nekam. iti ezen munu4 gu7 dNin-ĝír-su-ka-ka, 5 En-ig-gal, nu-bànda, dub-bé e-(PI)bala, v 1 gú-ne-ne-a, e-ne-ĝar. DP 422 iii 1 lá-a níĝ sa-ḫa DU.DU im-ma-šè, aga3 gi4-a-kam. iii 4 En-ig-gal, nubànda, dub-bé e-⸢PI⸣-bala, iv 1 gú-ne-ne-a, e-ne-ĝar. iv 3 Sa6-sa6, dam Iri-ka-gi-na, lugal, Lagaški-ka. 4. DP 539 ii 3 En-ig-gal, nu-bànda, iti ezen dBa-ú-ka, iii 1 dub-bé e-PI-bala, iii 2 gú-nene-a, e-ne-ĝar, še ú-rum, dBa-ú, Sa6-sa6, dam Iri-ka-gi-na, lugal, iv 1 Lagaški-ka. 4. Á-né-kur-ra, Inim-ma-ni-zi-bé, dub nu-PI-bala. *DP 495 i 1 lá-a 1 ĝiššú-dul5 gu4, 1 bar-úsurudu, É-nam, 1 bar-úsurudu, Ka-ka. ii 1 saĝapin-ke4-ne, ba-PI-lá. ii 3 En-ig-gal, nu-bànda, iii 1 dub-bé e-bala, gú-ne-ne-a, e-neĝar. 4. RTC 62 ii 4 Ur-dIgi-ama-šè, iii 1 nu-bànda, É-ĝissu-bé, gù-na e-né-ĝar. 4. RTC 24 i 1 122⁄3-ša ma-na lá 2 giĝ4 urudua-ru12-da sal-la um-ma-lá-a, Ur-igi, ii 1 nubànda, Ur-dBa-ú, simug, iti gur7 dub-ba-a, é lú éš-gíd-ka-ka, iii 1 gú-na e-né-[ĝar]. 4. VS 25, 4 ii 4 Ur-dIgi-ama-šè, 5 nu-bànda, iii 1 gú-ne-ne-a e-ne-ĝar. 5. AWEL 279 i 1 lá-a 1.02 sa gu, Nin-bára-da-rí, bànda, iii dub e-da-bala, gú-na e-né-ĝar. 5.

ii 1

géme ki-gu-ka-da, Šubur, nu-

AWEL 232 ii 3 Ur-dIgi-ama-šè, iii 1 [nu-b]ànda, [Dun-n]e-[nu-u]m-ra, dub e-dabala-a-a, iii 4 [g]ú-na e-ĝar. iv [x (. . ..)] *DP 565 ii 2 Sa6-sa6, dam Iri-ka-gi-na, lugal, Lag[aš]ki-k[a]-⟨ke4⟩, ur4-ra-a, dub-bé e-da-bal, gú-na e-né-ĝar. 6.

iii 1

iti ⸢udu?⸣ siki

The chain of demand and obligation was also a chain of liability. Superiors had to personally answer for their subordinates, as demonstrated by Heimpel (1995) and Wilcke (2005, 2010). They could lose property, liberty of family members, and even their own liberty.

47.  Cf. AWEL 232 (time of Ikg., date lost). 48.  Deficits of 3 years: . . . i 5 lá- a im — im - m a - k a m. 1. . . . ii 4 l á - a i m- ma - k a m. 2. . . . iii 8 l á - a m u-a -ka m. .  . . v 3 lá- a 1. 2. 3. t é š- t é š- a e - ĝ ar, k u6 ú - ru m, dB a - ú, Sa6- s a6, d a m Iri -ka- g i - n a, vi 1  luga l, La gaški- k a. sar.ru- am6.

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Relationship of Ruler and Subordinates The Rulers The style of administrative documents may tell how superiors and rulers regarded the legal status of their subordinates, their language conveying their notion of it. The administrations of Presargonic Lagaš have developed a system of highly detailed subscripts for the records of their documentation present in the rich archives of the É-mí temple of (goddess) Baʾu at Ĝirsu. They not only name kinds and categories, totals, grand totals and sources of materials handled, categories of recipients or purposes, the date of the transaction and the name and official title of the acting director of the administration, mostly an “inspector” or “captain” (nubànda), they also include the name and full title of the ruler’s wife, 49 who is the official head of the temple administration. Sometimes the steward or king himself appears as head administrator instead of his wife, who may be unavailable for reasons untold. The total absence of Iri-ka-gina’s wife Sasa from subscripts of ration texts and monthly summaries during his steward year and in his first royal year seems to be intentional. The documents of monthly rations issued to the temple personnel and of monthly summaries of materials issued present the most elaborate form of these subscripts. Regularly written grammatical elements display syntactic structuring and define the roles of the ruler and his wife. Changes of wording and grammatical structure occur in the course of time, mostly in the early years of Iri-ka-gina and, again, in his sixth royal year, the last one of this documentation. His severe defeat by the hands of Lugal-zagesi of Uruk and Umma put an end to them. The changes are obviously not random, not caused by idiosyncratic scribal whim, but systematic and intentional, since their use is restricted to limited spans of time. They therefore convey messages about the image and status the ruler and his wife wanted to display publicly, and perhaps also about tendencies inside the administration towards the ruling couple’s intentions. These subscripts declare the recipients of rations—without obvious need—as owned by the rulers, their wives and children, so in the early example (AWL 123, En-entarzi 4), a prepared form, filled in only partly. v 1 gú-an-šè (blank) lú siki-ba tur maḫ-ba, lú ú-rum, Ur-tar-sír-sír-ra, vi 1 dumu En-èn-tar-zi, énsi, Lagaški-ka, Dìm-tur, dam En-èn-tar-zi, énsi, Lagaški-ka-ke4, é d Mes-an-du-ke4⟨-ús-sa⟩-ta, e-ne-ba. 4.

Grand total (blank). People drawing different wool rations, people owned by Ur-Tarsirsira.k, child of En-entarzi.d, steward of Lagaš—Dimtur, wife of Enentarzi.d, steward of Lagaš, made them draw it as rations out of the building adjacent to the temple of (god) Mesandu. Year 4.

The constituent elements of later subscripts are already present but for a month name: the material issued, its recipients, their status as owned by the owner(s), month name (locative), person(s) allotting (ergative), place from which the material was issued (ablative), finite verb, year. 49.  She is not called “queen” (ni n) but always defined over her husband and thus clearly ranking below him. He holds the title “steward” (é n s i) before Irikagina assumes kingship (l u g a l “king”) in his second year of rule (which is again counted as year 1) seemingly claiming sovereignship over an extended territory.

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Details vary and change: Mostly, the “inspector” (nu-bànda) as managing director of Baʾúʾs É-mí-temple issues/allots materials, i.e., causes the recipients to draw them as rations, e.g., the “bread” allotments of VS 25, 8 (L. 1, issue unnumbered): i-vii List of persons/professions and numbers. viii 1 [šu-níĝ]in, ⸢5?⸣.10[+x] lú ⸢ninda⸣ba, lú 1-šè, ninda bappir gug 1-ta, 5 ku6 ŠU.KAD5.RI ⸢0;3.0⸣-ta, káš ku-li 1-ta, šu ba-ti, ì e-šéš. ix 1 lú ú-rum, Bára-nam-tar-ra, dam Lugal-an-da, énsi Lagaški-⸢ka⸣, 5 ezen dBa-ú-⸢ka⸣, En-⸢ig⸣-gal, nu-bànda, É-mí-a e-ne-ba. 1.

[Tot]al: 310[+x] people drawing “bread” rations—per person, 1 cake each of beer bread, 3 bushel each of Š.-fish, 1 pitcher each of beer were received; (skin) was oiled—owned people of Bara-namtara, wife of Lugal-an-da, steward of Lagaš— En-iggal, the inspector, made them draw it as rations in the É-mí at the Baʾufestival. Year 1. 50

There is something strange about these subscripts. Their second part is syntactically well construed. Not so the beginning. There, the causees of the action stand isolated; they don’t show the case marker (dative suffix) necessary to match the verbal dative prefix referring to them. The steward’s wife, who headed the É-mítemple, directly caused the action in the first case. The head administrator mostly takes this active role, grammatically marked by the ergative suffix, or the steward himself disburses the rations (see below for Lugal-anda and later for Iri-ka-gina). The steward’s wife is seemingly not involved in the second example beyond her owning the causees. And it is after her name and title, to be exact, after the genitival suffixes following it, that we miss the dative suffix marking the causees. The dative suffix is absent, too, from the documents about grain rations and issues from Bara-namtara’s administration of the E-mí-temple, where the qualifying l ú ú-rum “owned people” is equally absent throughout. Consequently her ownership of the people stays grammatically and lexically unmarked, since grammar forbids adding a third genitive suffix after the two, which are part of her title dam Lugal-an-da ensí Lagaški-ka(.k) “wife of Lugalanda, the ensí of Lagaš.” A reader of, or a listener to, the text of the subscripts could therefore get the idea that her name and title not only functions as a possible genitive attribute to, and possessor of, the afore mentioned people, but also as a preposed apposition to the name and title of the disbursing agent, 51 mostly the temple’s inspector (nubànda /nu-bànda-e/) in a graphically (after the vowel) unmarked, though most probably audible ergative. 52 But analogy to the explicit grammatical marking of 50.  Note that the subscript of VS 27, 7 (L. 6) is almost identical with this one from year 1; but it replaces ku6 šu.kad5.ri ⸢0;3.0⸣- t a with še sa sìla g í d - d a 1 - ta, l usar s a 1 - t a “roasted barley, 1 long s ìla each, beans?, 1 bundle each,” and it—perhaps significantly—omits l ú ú - r u m, B á r a - n a m - t a r - r a, dam Luga l-an-da, é nsi Lag aški-⸢k a⸣—perhaps anticipating Iri-ka-gina’s reforms; see below AWL 48 (L. 6, ii?). 51.  This would, e.g., be possible in VS 25, 11 (L. 6, i): xiv 1 g ú a n - š è 2.34 l ú š e - b a tu r- ma ḫ - b a, š e-bi 44;1.0 gur- saĝ - ĝ ál, še - ⸢ ba⸣ i. šdd, Bár a- n a m- ta r- ta, d a m L u g a l - a n - d a, é n s i L a g a škika, i t i ezen a b-è- k a, En- ig - g al, nu- bànda, é g a n b a - k a - ta, e - n e - b a. 6. 1 b a - a m6. And one could consider translating: “Grand total: 154 people with differing barley rations; the barley for them: 44 kor 1 ul. Barley rations for ‘blind people’ and ‘(workers) recorded in the center of the tablet’ of Bara-namtara, wife of Lugal-anda, steward of Lagaš(, who) in the month (of) the ‘festival of leaving through the opening’ (together with) the inspector En-iggal made them draw it as rations out of the market house. Year 6. It is ration 1.” But see the reasons given above speaking against it. 52. A majordomo and the head of a granary show visible ergatives (a g r i g - g e, k a - g u r u7- k e4) in later years of Iri-ka-gina; see, e.g., DP 114; TSA 12.

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steward Lugalanda, when he himself takes the place of his wife in the transaction, clearly rules out any idea of a pivotal, double role of the head of the administration as owner of personnel and disburser of rations. Here, a second genitive suffix after his title énsi Lagaš-k, i.e., ensí Lagaški-ka(.k), marks him as owner (of materials) and renders an interpretation as preposed apposition to the disbursing inspector impossible. It stands to reason that the same applies to his wife, too; 53 see AWAS 99, L.1, vi; AWEL 62, L.1, xii: še-ĝar zíz-ĝar (sá-du11) iti-da Lugal-an-da(-nu-ḫuĝ-ĝá), énsi Lagaški-ka Šul-me-šár-ra-DU (/Šubur), nu-bànda, É-mí-ta(/é ganba-ka-ta) e-ta-ĝar. 1. 6(/12) ĝar-am6. Monthly barley issue, emmer issue (and regular delivery) of Lugalanda(nuḫuĝa), steward of Lagaš. The Inspector Šul-mešara-DU (/Šubur) issued it from the É-mí (/market house). Year 1. 6th (/12th) issue.

But in his last full year, Lugalanda again takes the place of his wife in AWL 48 (L. 6 ii?), 54 and now, he himself actively disburses the rations (ergative)—no inspector is mentioned—and he names the god Nin-ĝírsu as owner of the personnel—a clear anticipation of Iri-ka-gina’s reforms: 55 53.20;0.0 lá 0;1.4 še gur saĝ-⸢ĝál⸣, še-ba še-ĝar géme dumu igi nu-du8 šà-dub didli, ii 1 dNin-ĝír-su-ka, Lugal-an-da, énsi Lagaški-ke4, É-mí-ta, iii 1 e-ne-ba. 6. ⸢4? ba-am6?⸣.

i1

3.199 heaped kor, 3 bushel, 2 seah of barley–Lugal-anda, énsi of Lagaš, made (god) Nin-ĝirsu’s mothers with children, ‘blind’ people and workers listed in the center of the tablet draw it as barley rations (and) barley issue out of the É-mítemple. Year 6; 4th allotment.

The double genitive (/dNin-ĝir-su-k-ak/) clearly marks the god as owner and at the same time does not allow for a pivotal role as owner and agent. Lugalanda as husband of Bara-namtara administers her field of responsibility just as Nin-ĝirsu as husband of Baʾu functions as overall owner of Baʾu’s property. A year later, Iri-ka-gina’s “reforms” claim to re-establish the gods as owners of their temples and their economic means, which, as we just saw, began already early in Lugal-anda’s 6th year. The new ruler, accordingly, right away, with the first documents of his steward year (issues of month ii 56 AWL 43; AWAS 52) shows the 53.  This differs from what we shall observe later with Queen Sasa and Iri-ka-gina, after the goddess Baʾu was introduced as owner of people and material; see below. 54.  Nin-ĝirsu’s name ends in a genitive morpheme. As only two of them are allowed (i.e., can appear in writing), a virtual linear triple genitive construction is possible. And although the graphically unmarked single genitive suffix after after dBa- ú (/dBaʾú-k/) in AWAS 52 xv 3–16 (and parallels in CT 50, 33; AWAS 4; 5; 30; AWEL 9; DP 155; 227 etc.) /še-ba i., šdd.-k dBaʾu-k Ikg. lugal L.ki-k-e . . . e-ne-n-ba-∅/ (see immediately below) might suggest that š e - b a + following recipients form a firm genitive compound, other subscripts (VS 25, 8 above; AWAS 6; 16; 52; 120; AWL 45; AWEL 2; CT 50, 36; DP 113; VS 27:6; TSA 14; 15 and many later sources) explicitly declare the people as property of the goddess, and we may therefore with some certainty assume this to be the case in all subscripts. The material issued (š e - b a etc.) is therefore in the absolutive case. The personnel of the deity is in a virtual dative case. 55.  See above, n. 50 on VS 27, 7. 56. Iri-ka-gina ascends the throne in, or directly after, the 1st month of Lugalanda’s 7th year. His first issues of rations date from month 2 of his steward year. — The numbered issues occur monthly, beginning with the harvest month.

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divine ownership by inserting the name of the É-mí ’s goddess Baʾu (genitive) into the subscript formula. He himself grammatically marks with an explicit ergative his responsibility as the one who issues and allots barley and emmer: 57 AWAS 52 xv 3–16 (Ikg. steward, ii). xv 3

še-ba igi nu-du8 šà dub didli, dBa-ú (/dBaʾu-k/), Iri-ka-gi-na, énsi, Lagaški-ke4, iti ezen še g[u7 dNanše-k]a, e-ne-ba. 1. 2 ba-am6

xvi 1

Iri-ka-gina, steward of Lagaš, made (goddess) Baʾu’s ‘blind people’ and ‘workers recorded in the center of the tablet’ draw the barley rations in (goddess) Nanše’s month of barley eating. Year 1. 2nd allotment.

At the same time appears a different formula, in which the inspector (nu-bànda 58) acts as disbursing agent and is so mentioned in the formula (AWL 43, Ikg. steward, ii): še-ĝar zíz-ĝar sá-du11 iti-da, dBa-⸢ú⸣, Iri-[k]a-gi-na, énsi, 5 Lagaš, xii 1 En-ig-gal, nu-bànda, É-ki-šál-la-ta, e-ta-ĝar. 1. 2? ĝar-am6.

xi 3

Iri-ka-gina, steward of Lagaš (/énsi Lagaški-k/), and/through inspector (/nu-bànda-e/) En-iggal issued (goddess) Baʾu’s (/dBaʾu-k/) barley issue, emmer issue and monthly regular deliveries from the E. 1st year. 2nd issue.

This latter formula stays in use until issue vii 59 with two exceptions. 60 The goddess Baʾu is now the owner (genitive), and Iri-ka-gina’s title does not show an additional genitive suffix, which would be necessary if he were named as second or substitute owner in apposition to her. This differs from the situation observed with Bara-namtara and Lugalanda (above ad VS 25, 8, AWAS 99 and AWEL 62). In order not to deprive the steward of all social and grammatical functions, we need to assume that he keeps his role and his ergative case despite the month or festival name (in the locative) separating steward (without case marker) and inspector (in the graphically unmarked ergative), when the inspector (nu-bànda /nu-bàndae/) actually disburses rations and materials. The result is a split appositional construction—quite unusual in Sumerian as far as we know, but it will re-occur later with queen Sasa. 57.  Also with issue iv (CT 50, 33) and later from issue viii onwards. 58.  The ergative marker does not appear in writing after the vocalic ending of the word. 59.  AWL 43; AWAS 14; ⸢15⸣; DP 156; 228. 60.  (1) The ruler alone (ergative) hands out issue iv (CT 50:33; see above issue ii: AWAS 52); 2) DP 152 (issue iii) moves the genitive morpheme from the goddess Baʾu on to the ruler (I r i-ka- g i - n a é n s i Laga ški-ka /énsi Lagaški-ak-ak/): goddess and steward are thus paired as joint owners and are marked by one and the same case morpheme. This anticipates the development under queen Sasa from issue viii of Iri-ka-gina ry 2; see below. (2) I hesitate to regard this exception as a scribal mistake: še-ĝar zíz-ĝar sá-du12 iti-da, dBa-ú, Iri-ka-gi-na, énsi, Lagaški-ka, xi i iti ezen dNin-ĝír-su-ka maš-gána-ba, En-[ig]-g[al], nu-bànda, še aša5 Da-tir-am-ma-ka-ta, zíz é ki-šál-la-ta, e-ta-ĝar. 1. 3 ĝar-am6. “Barley issue, emmer issue, monthly regular deliveries of Baʾu and Iri-ka-gina, steward of Lagaš. In the month of the Ninĝirsu festival, the inspector En-iggal issued it from its respective threshing floors, the barley out of the field ‘Beside-the-Aurochs-Forest, the emmer out of the ‘Kišalla-Building’. Year 1. 3rd issue.” x3

The sign sequence in xi 1 is clearly m a š-gána, not the “gána-m a š” M. E. Cohen 1993: 43 reads.

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Iri-ka-gina, again, acts alone (ergative) 61 from issue viii of the steward year until Ikg. ry 2 issue i. 62 Another short lived, but later resurfacing, significant change replaces the ownership of the goddess by that of her temple at the end of this period with issue xi of ry 1: /X é dBaʾu-k-ak/ instead of /X dBaʾu-k/ (VS 25, 73; also DCS 7 [date broken]) 63. Did one, perhaps, anticipate the installation of queen Sasa as head of the Baʾu temple 64 and so try to avoid problems her title dam Iri-ka-gi-na lugal Lagaš-ka “wife of Ikg., king of Lagaš” with its two genitive suffixes could create after (goddess) Baʾu as owner of people and materials had been entered into the subscripts? The limitation of the number of genitive suffixes to two, even if the chain of genitives consisted of three or more elements in linear sequence, would, again, 65 open the possibility to understand her name and title not only, like those of her husband, as a preposed apposition to the ergative of the acting inspector Eniggal. They could then also, and different from those of her husband, be understood as an apposition to the divine name dBa-ú (in the genitive). This idea is not out of the world. It had already been tried once for, or by, her husband in his steward year (issue iii: DP 152; see above n. 60) with an (at first sight harmless) extra genitival suffix and had been immediately given up again. The clerks may, indeed have faced difficulties in complying with the new ruler’s ideas about paramount divine ownership, his wishes to share, or to come near to, the position of the gods and, on the other hand, traditional ideas about the role of the ruling family. And these difficulties will have grown with the prospect of the queen taking this grammatically ambivalent position between divine owner and human agent. Queen Sasa occurs first as chief of the É-mí-temple in the ledgers of rations and issues with issue iv of ry 2. The scribes seem at first—perhaps for the reasons just discussed—to balk at allowing her the place in the subscripts held before by her husband and king (and also, before goddess Baʾu entered the subscripts, by her predecessors Dìm-tur and Bara-namtara). They, instead, put her at the very end of the form, after the verb—isolated, without any possible syntactical function (form a): DP 158: Ikg. ry 2 iv: 66 61.  En-iggal is absent from the formula for reasons unknown in preserved documents. 62.  AWAS 4; 5; 19; 30; 31; 123; AWEL 9; 18 (g ú - a n - š è 62 l ú š e - b a t u r m a ḫ - b a . . . l ú n a m dum u dIg-alim-k a “Total 62 people with differing barley allotments—. . . (amount of barley)—people of (the steward’s) children and of (god) Ig-alim(-k)); DCS 4; 7; DP 155; 227; VS 25, 66; 73. 63.  It occurs once again in ry 2, (viii?)/iv (TSA 20) with barley allotments for holders of sustenance fields issued by king Iri-ka-gina (acting alone: ergative) from Iri-kù. 64.  Queen Sasa is already involved in the administration of the Baʾu temple in her husband’s steward year and his ry 1: in the steward year, she was, e.g., in DP 103 “repossessed of ” (š u - n a i - n i - g i4) a silver compensation for a heifer which had been disposed of (lit.: “cleared away;” see Sallaberger 2005: 242ff.); in DP 107 she repossessed (š u - a b í - g i4) fruit from different gardens of Baʾu in Lagaš and Ĝirsu and brought it into the storehouse; in DP 183 she administered the wool sheep and, like Bara-nam-tara before her (e.g., VS 27:89 [L. 1] and 81 [L.4]) distributed wool fleeces to cult personnel; see also documents from ry 1 quoted in Sallaberger 2005:243f.; and she “weighed out” (e - n e - l á) clothes to “overseers (and) important people” (u g u l a - n e l ú igi.níĝin) and to overseers (and) elders (u g u l a - n e a b - b a - n e): VS 27:9. 65.  See above (with n. 51) for gramatically possible roles of Bara-namtara. 66.  Also in DP 119 (ry 2 iv) še - ba g d lú di4- di4- l á - n e “Barley allotment for female workers with children of the children’s estate.” — This final position of stewards and their wives is quite often used and seemingly signals the main administration involved and generally responsible. It also marks the

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še-ĝar zí[z-ĝ]ar [sá]-du11 iti-da, dBa-ú, eger iti gur7 im du8-a-ta, xii 1 En-ig-gal, nu-bánda, še ĝanun ĝiš-kíĝ-ti-ta, zíz é EZEN-da Iri-kù-ga-ta, e-ta-ĝar, Sa6-sa6, dam Iri-ka-gi-na, lugal Lagaški-ka 2. 4 ĝar-am6.

xi 4

Barley issue, em[mer] issue, regular deliveries of the month. The inspector E. issued barley from the personnel’s granary and the emmer from the festival(?) building of Iri-kù. Sasa, wife of Iri-ka-gina, steward of Lagaš. Ikg. ry 2. it is the 4th issue.

This form (a) is used until issue v of ry 3; 67 but already from issue viii of ry 2 onwards, some scribes 68 employ the formula first avoided (form b) which, at first sight, just looks like the one of her predecessor, now enlarged by the addition of the name of the deity: DP 154: 69 še-ba še-ĝar zíz-ĝar, dBa-ú, v 1 Sa6-sa6, dam Iri-ka-gi-na, lugal, Lagaški-ka, iti ezen munu4-gu7, dNanše-ka, En-ig-gal, vi 1 nu-bànda, é kiri6-ta, e-ne-ba, lú šuku dab5-ba 1 ba-am6, lú iti-da-ke4 8 ba-am6. 2. iv 4

Barley rations, barley issue and emmer issue of (goddess) Baʾu (and Sasa, wife of Iri-ka-gina, king of Lagaš). Sasa, wife of Iri-ka-gina, king of Lagaš, did in (goddess) Nanše’s month of malt eating make them receive it as allotment through/ together with the inspector En-iggal. (Royal) year 2. It is so, that the holders of sustenance fields had drawn the 1st. ration and the monthly people had drawn the 8th ration.

And from issue v of ry 3 onwards until the very end of ry 5 (issue xiii) this stays the only form in use but for the king himself issuing in ry 5 several times še-ba še-ĝar l ú dBa-ú-ke4-ne “barley allotments and issues for the people of Baʾu” (all but one unnumbered). 70 One of these, AWL 51, already heralds a change to take place with the advent of year 6.

time span to which the year numbers refer and helps to chronologically place the documents. But it is not normally used in ration and issue ledgers. 67.  Form a: AWAS 20 (ry 2 ix: [še ]- ba g d ú- r u m dBa-ú); 24 (ry 2, xi: children’s estate); 26 (ry 3, v: children’s estate); 86 (ry 2, x: children’s estate); DP 113 (ry 2, viii; 56 še-ba i. íl šdd lú ú-rum dBa-ú); 119 (ry 2, iv: children’s estate; see previus note); 158 (above; ry 2, iv: še-ĝar etc.); TSA 11 (ry 3, (iv): še-ba gd ú-rum dBa-ú); 18 (ry 3, iv: children’s estate). 68.  Form b: AWAS 2 (ry 2, xii/v: še-ba še-ĝar zíz-ĝar dBa-ú); 6 (ry 2, (ix?)/ii: lšd lú ú-rum dBa-ú); 55 (ry 2, (xi)/iv lšd lú ú - r u m dBa-ú); AWEL 1 (ry 2, xii: š e - b a gd ú - r u m dBa-ú); 13 (ry 2, (xi): z í z - b a lšd d Ba-ú); 59 (ry 3, v: š e - ĝ a r etc.); 60 (ry 2, ix: š e - ĝ a r etc.); 64 (ry 2, xi: š e - ĝ a r etc.); DP 112 (ry 2, xi: š e - b a gd ú-rum dBa-ú); 154 (ry 2, viii/i: see above); 229 (ry 3, i?: [š e - b a gd ú - ru m dBa-ú]); VS 27:6 (ry 2, (x?)/ iii: lšd lú ú-rum dB a - ú); TSA 34 (ry 3, iv: š e - ĝ a r etc.); 36 (ry 3, i: š e - ĝ a r etc.). 69.  The text combines different barley and emmer allotments for personnel (lšd “holders of sustenance fields,” i. ÍL šdd “ ‘blind? people,’ carriers?, ‘workers recorded in the center of the tablet, gd ‘female workers with children’ ”), barley for big and small cattle and white emmer and pulses issued as regular delivery summed up as: iii 1 še - ba še - ĝ ar zíz- ĝ ar, lú dB a - ú - k e4- n e - k a m, “it is barley allotment, barley issue, emmer issue of (=for) Baʾu’s people” with iii 2 10 lá 0;2.3 š e - b a d u mu - d u mu - n e - ka m “it is 9 kor 1 bushel 3 seah barley allotment of the (steward’s) children.” 70.  Once (DP 114: ry 5, iii: š e - b a i. íl šdd dBa-ú) the majordomo (agrig) E n - š u - g i4- g i4, who is gradually replacing the inspector E n - i g - g a l at the beginning of ry 6, handles the issue, and in VS 27:40 (ry 5, viii) he issues without a royal partner emmer to 2 people; king or queen are absent, too, in VS 27:97 [ry 6, ii]; DP 147 [ry 6, iii]; AWEL 61 [ry 6, iii]. And the king issues barley from the Sacred City Iri-kù (AWAS 76), from (goddess) Baʾu’s granary (AWAS 3; AWL 45 [ry 5, vi] 50) and once (AWL 51) from the granary (named) “(S)he looked at me faithfully.” Too little is preserved of AWAS 67 to attempt a reconstruction.

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Queen Sasa had taken over her husband’s active role in the transactions recorded. And she had not only succeeded, as we assume, in regaining and publicly stating her ownership of people and materials like that of her predecessors, she had also surpassed them in achieving it on the same rank as that of the goddess Baʾu. But three years and nine months later she again lost this august status of immediate neighborhood to the goddess. From ry 6, iii, onwards, the subscripts start to return to the form they had tentatively introduced at the end of ry 1 and once in ry 2, and they again replace the name of the goddess by that of her temple. 71 Only a few others keep form (b), 72 the king acts once himself and appears once in final position. 73 The system of allotments and of the carefully worded subscripts to the relevant documents seems to disintegrate during Iri-ka-gina’s 6th ry and is given up after this year. Agency The documents show the agency of stewards and king, of queens and their inspectors as well as of other representatives of the central administration. They cause the personnel to draw allotments, they issue grain, they give or give back tools, seeds and fodder, animals, fields, they brand animals, lead them away, and take things into possession, they weigh metal, measure cloth and fields, they erect walls or dikes, they debit to accounts or withdraw from them, etc., etc. Subordinates may take over work (dab6) at stretches of dikes or walls to be erected or built, sustenance fields and, as ploughmen, fields for cultivation. 74 The People: Private Enterprise within the Administration One cannot, in an environment like this, expect administrative documents to allow for the notion of self-responsibility or initiative on the side of subordinates. But initiative and spirit of enterprise nonetheless existed and seemingly flourished. In Presargonic Ĝirsu, the “steward’s groom” (kuš7 énsi) and “head of grooms” (kuš7-maḫ) Amar-ezen hands out barley loans to different persons from different temple households. In one document, alone, the loans add up to an enormous 136 71.  DP 149 (6, iii); VS 27:1 (ry 6, vi); DP 121 (ry 6, vi lšd, they now receive yearlong rations); 150 (ry 6, vii); 151 (ry 6, viii; S a6- sa6 +title in final position like, e.g., DP 119; 158; see above with n. 66 ); AWAS 56 (ry 6, viii; again final position); AWAS 81 (ry 6, ix; lšd); 12 (ry 6, x: lšd); 11 (ry 6, xi; lšd); 23 (ry 6, xi); 17 (ry 6, xii); 22 (ry 6, xii); TSA 13 (ry 6, xii); VS 27:1 (ry 6, —). 72. DCS 1 (ry [6], iii) xvii 2še - ba gd ú- r um, [dB a ] - ú, [Sa6] - s a6, [d a m] Iri - [ka-g ] i - n a, l u g a l, Laga ški-ka, [g] uru7 [. . .], xviii 3 ba- am6 (cf. DP 115 [ry 6, i(+n)]); TSA 16 (ry 6, viii); VS 25:69 (ry 6, ix). 73. AWAS 122 (ry 6, iv) [še - ba ig i n]u- [du8 í]l [š à - d ] u b d i d l i, [l ú ] ú - ru m, [dB ] a - ú, [ Iri]ka-[g] i -na, [l] ugal, Lag aški-k [ e4], [še g ]ub- ba, [a š ]a5 dB a - ú - k a - k a m, e - n e - ⸢ b a⸣. 4 b a - a m6 “. . .. owned people of Baʾu, Iri-ka-gina, king of Lagaš, made them draw it—it is (from) the field tax from Baʾu’s fields—as rations;” CTNMC 1 (ry 6, viii) barley allotments to captains (nu-bànda) of elite troops and vanguard units and to personnel of the central house born in slavery, iv š u - n í ĝ i n 13.7(read: 6!); 3.3 š e g u r, guru7 é dBa -ú-ke4 ús- a- t a, En- šu- g i4- g i4, ag r ig - ge, e - n e - b a, v I ri-ka- g i - n a, l u g a l, L a g a ški. 6, 4 sar. ru, En-ig-gal, nu - bànda, Lug al- k ur - bi, 8 á u4 1- a - k a m, vi 1?.04;1.4 g u r!? 8 b a - a m6 “the majordomo E. made them draw as rations the total: 986! kor, 3 ul, 3 seah of barley, from the granary right beside the Baʾu temple. Iri-ka-gina, king of Lagaš. Year 6.—. . .: the inspector En-iggal together with Lugal-kur. Daily wages: 64? kor, 1 ul, 4 seah. 8th allotment.”–The sequence of lines after the year number is somewhat uncertain. Does v 4–7 perhaps continue column iv? Does v 8 belong with the upper number in col. vi? Calculations don’t agree with the sum. If the numbers in col. vi are read correctly, the daily wages would suffice for 15 days with about 20 kor left. 74.  For examples see the glossary of AWL, s.v., and the indexes of AWAS and AWEL.

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Kor of barley (CT 50, 26). Amar-ezen’s activity as a creditor is obviously not in the line of his profession and function. 75 His debtors don’t take out loans from him and thus acknowledge their obligation as expressed in later texts by use of the verb šu--ti. Amar-ezen rather gives his debtors interest bearing barley loans: ur5-šè ba-šúm “He gave it away as an interest bearing loan.” The Verb šu--ti I found the verb šu--ti “to take, to receive (with a resulting obligation)” 48 times among ca. 1.600 economic texts from Presargonic Ĝirsu, but no acknowledgment of receipt among them—yet, receipt of purchase prices for immovable property 76 is regularly duly recorded with the verb šu--ti in sale documents. The verb šu--ti denotes in Presargonic Ĝirsu/Lagaš in administrative contexts mostly receiving working materials in consequence of, leading to, or as part of, operations of the administration, often meant for processing and/or consumption, single receipts are frequently assembled into lists of multiple ones. 77 The verb is most frequently used in a distributive way: sequential receipts of single persons or parallel ones of different people for goods issued from a central office, prior to/part of other action: VS 25, 95: multiple recipients: 0;0.4 gig, gig numun aša5 En-né-gù-ba-dé-šè, ⸢Á-né⸣-kur-ra, šu ba-ti. 0;0.4 gig, ii 1 gig numun aša5 Tùn-úḫ-ka-šè, Lugal-mas-su, šu ba-ti. ii 4 0;0.3 gig, Ti-u4-sù-šè, iii 1 šu ba-ti. iv 1 gu7-a, A-ba-sá-ì-e, dub-sar. 2. i1 i5

Ane-kura received 4 seah of wheat as wheat seeds for the field E. Lugal-massu received 4 seah of wheat as wheat seeds for the field T. Ti-usuše received 3 ul. Consumed by the scribe Aba-sá-iʾe. Year 2.

Three plough men had each received seeds for seed-plowing, which would result in the consumption of the received goods. The clerk directing the respective administrative department of seed-plowing is responsible for the correct use of the seeds in the process of seed-plowing. We also possess a single leaf to these multiple receipts; it is worded a little bit differently: AWL 19: i1 0;0.4 gig, gig numun aša5 En-né-gù-ba-dé-a-šè, ba-ti. ii 4 gig A-ba-sá, iii 1 dub-sar, šu-na ĝál-la-am6. 2.

ii 1

Á-né-kur-ra, saĝ apin-ke4, šu

75.  Bauer1975; 1976 76.  See Wilcke 22007a: 87f.; 93f. 77.  Single recipients: VS 25:60 (—) i 3-ii 1: a sergeant: barley “to feed the house; AWEL 134 (Ikg.? ry 7): woman: [. . .] (|| PN barley b a - ȓ e6 etc.); 221 (Ikg. ry 7): tanner?: hides for depilation (a - n i n d a - k a ĝa-ĝá-dè “to put into flour water;” also: 225 [Ikg. ry?]; 229 [Ikg. ry 6]); 222 (Ikg. ry 3): leather-worker: hides; AWL 19 (L. 2): a ploughman: wheat seeds; 63(? 4): a brewer: crushed? malt; NFT AO 4158(—): a majordomo: barley at/for a festival. — Multiple recipients: AWEL 131 (? 4; above n. 37); 135 (Ikg.? ry 8): 1 man: bread, emmer, flour, 1 man: flour–commissioners for both; 137 (Ikg.? ry 9): 2 men, each: flour + flour consumed by soldiers; AWL 16 (? 2): donkey herder: barley seeds, PN (ploughman?): wheat seeds; 25: ploughmen: seeds and fodder; 27 (? 3): 2 ploughmen: barley to feed oxen (1) and donkeys (2); DP 54 (L. 2): ploughman: fodder, stoker: barley (for roasting), barley rations for blind people received by, and in the hands of, a field manager (e n g a r); VS 25:94 (L. 3): 2 ploughmen, each: barley for groundbreaking + 1 man given (e-na - š ú m) barley for harrowing “handed back to them” (š u - n e - n e - a e - n e - g i4); 95 (L.? 2): 3 ploughmen, each: wheat (seeds); see above.

34

Claus Wilcke The ploughman A1 received 4 seah of wheat as wheat seeds for the field E. The wheat is in the hands of the scribe A2. Year 2.

Not the “recipient” is obliged to the central administration but rather the clerk “whose hands” (virtually) hold the seeds. The growth of wheat for the next harvest is his obligation. Distributive use of šu--ti is obvious when one or more persons repeatedly receive materials, 78 when a single transaction is said to be the nth in a sequence, 79 when transactions take place at different times, 80 when different people (i.e., different offices?) give material to the same person, 81 or when each person (lú diš-šè), sometimes anonymous members of a group, receives the same allotment; see the bread-ration text VS 25, 8. (L. 3) quoted above with n. 50.  82 This differs from later periods. As Sargonic Ĝirsu is not suitable for a quick survey, a glance at contemporary Adab may be helpful: In Presargonic and early Sargonic Adab, too, the verb “to receive” is extremely rare (0.3%) and its counterpart “to give” an-na/ne-šúm “he/she gave to him/her/ them” (ca. 10.3%) comparatively frequent. The table (p. 35) shows the development into Ur III times when “to receive” abounds and the use of “to give” becomes restricted. The way administrations and their representatives regarded their subordinates changes drastically. We may not much exaggerate when calling it a change from chattel to partner in law. Yet, we need to stress: This is a mental process. It happens on the level of language and relates a new perception of the Other. Law governed none the less, as we 78.  DP 493 (Ikg. ry [2?]): i 1-iii 6 [ploughs], draft animals, spare parts and parts of harnesses [d i š5 š u ba-ti]; ditto, min8- k am - m a šu- ba- t i, ditto, e š23- k a m- ma, š u b a - ti; PN1; iii 7-vi 1 ditto, d i š5 š u - ti - a am6, ditto, min8-k am - m a šu- t i- a- am6, ditto, e š23- k a m- ma š u ti - a - a m6, ditto, l i m m u5(tenû)- ka mm a šu-t i-a-a m6, PN2; vi 2-viii 5 ditto, d i š5 šu { ba- } t i- a - a m6, ditto, m i n8-ka m- ma š u ti - a - a m6, ditto, eš23-kam -m a š u- t i- a- am6, PN3; viii 6-x 4 ditto, d i š5 š u ti - a - a m6, ditto, m i n8- ka m- ma š u - ti - a - a m6, ditto, eš23-ka m -m a šu t i- a- am6, PN4. xi 1 ĝiššu- k ár a a p i n - n a ú - ru m, dB a - ú, E n - i g - g a l, n u - b à n d a, s a ĝ api n-ke4-ne, e - ne - t a- si, S a6- sa6, dam I r i-ka- g i - n a, l u g a l, [L a g a ški- k a. 2?.] Record of the 1st, 2nd, 3rd (and 4th) receipt of each of 4 ploughmen for ploughs, draft animals and spare parts, also for harnesses. The subscript reads: “The inspector En-iggal replenished for the ploughmen the plough equipment, property of (goddess) Baʾu from (storehouse X). Sasa, wife of Iri-ka-gina, king [of Lagaš. Year 2?].” Cf. DP 492 (Ikg. ry 3) and AWEL 91 (?? 2) 5 receipts of crushed malt given to perfume maker PN1 by PN2 for . . . and debited to PN2. 79.  DP 497 (Ikg. ry 5): 1 g u4 ĝiššú- dul5, 2 ĝišda ap i n, 1 b a r- ú s, Á - n é - k u r- ra, ii 1 e š23- ka m- ma - ka, š u ba-ti. 5. “1 yoked ox, 2 plough sideboards, 1 prick: Ane-kura. It was received for the 3rd time. Year 5.” Similar DP 498 (Ikg. 5): equipment for 2 plough-men; m i n8- ka m- ma - ka, s a ĝ a p i n - k e4- n e, e - n e ta-si. 5 “was replenished for the plough-men for the second time.” 80.  AWEL 71 (Ikg. ry 5): i 3-ii 1 še aša5- t a ȓ e6- a, ù r - r a e - b a l a - a š u b a - t i “was received, when the barley brought from the field was brought over onto the roof ” and ii 4-iii 1 l u - ù b š e d u ru5 dN i n - ĝ í r- [ s u ] ka ì-íl-la-a, šu b a - t i “was received when (god) Nin-ĝirsu’s sack with unripe spelt barley was lifted up (=dedicated to him or: consecrated).” 81.  AWEL 90 (Ikg? ry 3): barley, as donkey fodder for ground breaking work done “gave Di-Utu to him;” barley as seeds and donkey fodder “gave inspector En-iggal to him. It (comes) from the sustenance barley of the people under PN3, who had been led away (as prisoners of war). The scribe Lugal-Keš received it in the month of wool allotments. 82.  More such lú n i n d a b a-texts: RTC 52 (L. 3); VS 27:7 (L. 6); DP 123 (Ikg. ry 2); 122 (Ikg. ry 3); l ú ninda burux(gána)- m a š b a: DP 130 (Ikg. ry 3); similar: u š a r4-texts: DP 125 (L. 3); 124 (L. 6); Pinches, Amherst 2 (Ikg. ry 1); DP 126 (Ikg. ry 3); rations for mourners of Bara-nam-tara: TSA 9 (Ikg. ry 2); AWL 66 (Ikg. ry 2); Rations for mourners: DP 159 (Ikg. ry 5); wool allotments for cult personnel: DP 178 (L. 1); 185 (L. 1); AWL 125 (L. 2); 126 (L. 2); DP 189 (L. 2); 186 (L. 3); 179 (L. 4); 180 (L. 4); 182 (L. 6); AWEL 254 (L. 6); DP 183 (Ikg. steward).

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To Receive and to Give in Presargonic Ĝirsu, in Sargonic Adab and in Ur III Texts šu ba-ti(-iš/éš)

e-na/ne-šúm, an-na/ne-šúm in-na-šúm

Presargonic Ĝirsu: ca. 1600 texts (sales excluded) 48× : 3%

86+x × : 5,38+% after Poebel AS 2 (1931) Adab CUSAS 11: 369 Presargonic and early Sargonic texts

1×: ca. 0.3%

39×: ca. 10,3% CUSAS 13: 160 Classical Sargonic Texts

6× : 3.75%

4×: 2,5% Yang Zhi, Sargonic Inscriptions from Adab ca. 380 late presarg. texts

27× : ca. 7% 7× a/imḫur: ca. 2%

5×: ca. 1,25% ca. 35.000Ur III texts

uncounted

30×: less than 0,01%

saw, the Pre- and early Sargonic administrations in practice, on the factual level of obligations, duties and rights, and it certainly limited license on the side of those in power. The begin of the Ur III period brings about another innovation for administrative documentation parallel to the advance of the verb šu—ti “to receive”. And this has an enormous impact on legal praxis. Administrative records, all of a sudden, and, regularly show sealings. And the seals bear, in addition to pictorial scenes, inscriptions identifying their owners by name and (often) profession and, regularly, by the father’s (or, seldom: mother’s) name and, again often, the father’s profession. Seal cutters must have had a hey-day with the explosive demand for inscribed seals. One enclosed documents for receipts in envelopes repeating the text of the tablet, and then the recipient sealed them with the effect, that the words “seal of PN” could replace “received by PN.” In rolling one’s seal one individually tied oneself to an obligation. Seals were a symbol of personal identity. This is well known. I just wonder what it meant for the notion and self-notion of the individual, which according to European History comes into the world in the Middle Ages A.D.

Literature Fāra Period Let me now, at the end, turn back to the Fāra period and to literature. The new possibilities for writing let a flood of literary texts break loose, especially if we consider that all our sources come from just two places, Tall Fāra and Tall Abū Ṣalābīḫ.

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Most tablets are broken. Few texts can be reconstructed from duplicates. Later tradition seems to have forgotten the bulk of them. Few were recognized as early exemplars of compositions attested later, among them The Instructions of Šuruppag with a tradition running into the first millennium and a hymn to the Sun god written in an early (Pre)-Akkadian dialect and identified by G. Biga as also attested in Sargonic times at Ebla in Syria 83 as well as the Akkadian hymn to the goddess Nisaba 84 found there. And there is the still locked surprise box of the UD.GAL.NUN-texts using a different system of—possibly—readings plus—certainly—meanings for the same set of graphemes as used in standard orthography. We look forward very much to reading Dr. Zand’s dissertation which, we hope, will hand us a key. The Keš Temple Hymn The Keš Temple Hymn, well known from numerous 2nd millennium sources, also has an exemplar from this early period. The Old-Babylonian hymn comes in many versions, arranging sequences of stanzas differently, and adding or dropping lines, i.e., verses. Most differences between the old and the young versions could also have occurred among witnesses of the late ones. Significant may be the absence from the Tall Abū Ṣalābīḫ version of the concluding line of the refrain of the OB versions which mentions the goddess Nintu. Keš Temple Hymn, Refrain: Source from Tall Abū Ṣalābīḫ and OB version 85 54 OB Kèški-gim rib-ba lú ši-in-ga-an-tùm-mu AbSvii 6 [ ], lú an-ga—tú[m], 86 55 OB ur-saĝ-bi d ašAš7-gi4-gim rib-ba ama ši-in-ga-an-ù-tu AbSvii 8 ur-saĝ dAš8-gi,-[gim] ri[b]-ba, ama an-ga——-tu, d 56 OB nin-bi Nin-tu-gim rib-ba-ra a-ba-a igi mu-ni-in-du8 57 OB é 3-kam-ma-àm Can man bring to pass anything grander than Keš? Can any mother give birth to any one grander than its warrier Ašgi?  87 Who has ever seen any one grander than its Lady Nintu? It is the third House.

Significant, too, the reference to a “king of Kiš”, where the Old-Babylonian texts just speak of a king. 88 83.  Biggs 1974: no 326 = Edzard 1984: no. 6; see Lambert 1989; 1992; Krebernik 1992. 84.  Edzard 1984: no 7; Krebernik 1992; Lambert 1992. 85.  Wilcke 2006b:207–208; 223; 230. 86.  OB sources very consistently write—tú m - m u but for—t ù m - m u in BM 115798 (Geller 1996) and -tùm-[x] in IB 1091a+b. For the differentiation of the marû bases - t ú m - m u(-) “to escort” and tùm “to deliver (s.th. portable)” see Meyer-Laurin 2010 who translates g a l ì - g a - t ú m - m u (Gudea Cyl. A xii 20 and parallels) as “wird auch Bedeutendes hervorbringen” (p. 8) and explains “Das direkte Objekt gal, ein substantiviertes Adjektiv, gehört auf jeden Fall in die Kategorie der Abstrakta, die im wörtlichen Sinne nicht getragen werden können” (p. 10). We could argue similarly that the sanctuary Keš does not belong among portable goods. But the process of bringing to pass, bringing forth or producing s.th. is also clearly different from escorting or leading s.o. or s.th. from point A to point B. Meyer-Laurin already compared túm “to be fit for s.o/s.th.,” “to be worthy of s.o./s.th.” (non-ergative, attested only with the ḫamṭu base). This may just mean “to be brought to pass (or to be made) for s.o./s.th.;“ see the references in Sallaberger 2005: 573–74 and note there especially the resultative prefix /a-/ in Eʾanatum’s name (a.2). 87.  The resultative /a-/ prefix of the Tall Abū Ṣalābīḫ version is replaced by the prefix /ši/ referring to a prior section of the text, i.e., in all probability, the preceding strophe. 88.  Line 107: Wilcke 2006b: 227; 230.

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Narrative Lugalbanda Fragment A tablet with the concluding section of a tale about Lugalbanda and Nin-sumuna attests to early stories about the mountain-traveler Lugalbanda. It speaks of a legal ceremony of the families (im-ru) of both partners to a marriage at the gate to witness the ‘marriage vow’ “I shall live with the spouse”. This recalls the Ušumgal stela mentioned earlier. Until now, we know of no later sources for this narrative. Lugalbanda, Epic Fragment 27th Century b.c. (Fāra-Period) 89 d i 1–2 Lama-Nin-súmun agarinx(AMA.ŠIM), mu-ȓe6-ȓe6 , 3–5 [dL]ama-Nin-súmun gal in-zu, igi mu-lib, ĝiri mu-na-nu, ii 1–3 Lugal-bàn-da gal-zu, dLama-⸢Nin⸣-⟨súmun⟩-ra, da mu-ni-díb, 4–5 igi a-subx(MUNSUB), ka a-subx(MUNSUB), ii 6–iii 1 ud gal in-ga-mu-zu, [ud gal in-ga]-mu-túm, 2–3 kùš-min limmu-ba mu-ni-dag, ki ĝiš-ḫe, 4–5 u4 en-na zal, Iriʾaz!(URU×PIRIĜ) al-dúr-durunx(DÚR.DÚR)-éš, iv 1–2 [dLama-Nin-súmun] gal in-ga-zu, im-ru šu im-ti, 3–4 dLama-Nin-súmun Lugal-bàn-da, inim mu-gi4-gi4, v 1–3 [x x x], [x x]-z[i], dub mu-šè-ȓe6, 4–5 Lugal-bàn-da, ki mu-na-za, v 6–vi 1 en Lugal-bàn-da, ⸢inim mu-gi4-gi4⸣, 2–3 níĝ kur-ta ȓe6-⟨a⟩-zu, u6 ga-du11, 4–6 a-nun si mu-sá-sá, níĝ ⸢kur⸣-[ta ȓ]e6-[a-né u6 mu-eš], [. . .], vii 1–2 Lugal-bàn-da kisal-bar-šè, im-ma-ta-è, 3–6 [i]m-ru ⸢gú⸣ ḫaš, im-ru a-nun, kisal šu [mu-g]i4, [dLama-Nin-súmun], viii 1–3 ab-làl im-ta-è, dLama-Nin-súmun, ul4 ì-gub a ki ba-sux(ŠUM), 90 4–6 Lugal-bàn-da, ḫa-luḫ, ⸢kisal⸣ [a?] ⸢ki ub⸣-s[ux](ŠU[M]), viii 7–ix 1–2 dInana [dam], Lugal-bà-da-ra, inim mu-gi4-gi4, 3–4 za dam kur-ta mu-túm, dam mu-da-nu, 5–8 urum(Ú.⸢ÚR⸣) ĝešdanx(MUNUS.ÚS), ⸢ḫe⸣-me [du]mu-zu, šà ḫe-ma-⸢kúš⸣, x 1–5 níta, (double line in form of a ladder). 2–3 im-ru-ĝu10 ⸢a-nun⸣ é-za, kisal-bar ká he-ma-sux(DU.DU), 4–5 [ĝešd]anx([NÍTA.D]AM) [g]a-d[a]-[t]i, [a-n]un im.ru

(i)

Guardian-Angel-Nin-sumuna had untiringly brought (lumps of) clay, because Guardian-Angel-Nin-sumuna had thought intelligent thoughts, when sleeplessly she lay at his feet. (ii) Intelligent Lugalbanda had guided her, had kissed her eyes, had kissed her mouth. (iii) Today, he not only thought intelligent thoughts, he [today also] acted intelligently. He spread out two cubits square as an earth and as a vault of heaven, and they stayed in Iriaz? until day broke. (iv) [Guardian-Angel-Nin-sumuna], too, thought intelligent thoughts, as she took the clan (list?). 91 Guardian-Angel-Nin-sumuna said to (lit.: answered) Lugalbanda: 89.  Text: Biggs 1974 no. 327 (copy and photo), a 10-column school tablet from Tall Abū Ṣalābīḫ. Partial editions: Bing 1977; Wilcke 1987: 130f.; edition: Jacobsen, 1989. Reading, translation and interpretation are still very subjective. 90. Assuming that a s ù . d (= salāḫu) is meant. Otherwise “let water touch the ground” (a k i b a-t a g). 91.  Assuming that the i m - r u is (a) an admirable (vi 3; [5]) hollow (Nin-sumuna came out of its opening: vii 6–viii 1), vaulted (iii 3) body with bottom (iii 3) and a neck (vii 3) formed by Lugalbanda from clay (i 1) which is later (v 3) called a (clay) tablet which he brought “hither” (to Uruk), before the “Lord”

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Claus Wilcke (v–vi 2) “[.  .  .].” He rose and brought the clay tablet hither.–Lugalbanda prostrated himself before him, and the Lord addressed Lugalbanda: (vi 3) “Let me admire what you brought from the mountains!” Those of princely descent came straight away [to admire, what he had brought from the] mou[ntains.] [. . .] (vii) Lugalbanda brought it out (to them) into the outer courtyard. The neck of the clan (list?) broke, (when) those of princely descent handed back the clan (list?). Guardian-Angel-Nin-sumuna (viii) came out through the opening, stood up quickly and sprinkled the ground with water. Lugalbanda took fright. And as soon as she had sprinkled the yard, Inana (ix) addressed Lugalbanda’s [wife]: 92 “He has brought you as a spouse from the mountains, and as a spouse he has lain with you, so that I will be the mother in law of the partner in marriage and will counsel your children.” (x) “Five men, (double line in form of a ladder) (members of) my clan and those of princely descent of your house shall stand in the outer courtyard at the gate (when the words are spoken): ‘I want to live with the spouse!’–those of princely descent and the clan.”

Ur III Period The end of the Ur III period, too, did not mean the end of its literature. Many of the songs and narratives copied by industrious Old-Babylonian scribes originate in the Ur III period or earlier. Jacob Klein found different stages in the ways the orthographies of royal hymns had been adapted to Old-Babylonian standards. 93 One may suspect that the redactors did not content themselves with spelling alone. G. Rubio’s work on the literary texts and fragments from the Ur III remains of the Inana temple at Nippur will put our knowledge on much firmer ground. Indeed, comparison of published surviving Ur III copies of works of literature with fully reconstructed and well documented versions from the Old Babylonian period shows no little orthographic variance. And even though the text, in general, seems to be the same, there is no little change in detail. The Curse of Agade We are lucky to have 4 Ur III sources of the “Curse of Agade,” 94 two of them even partly duplicate each other. The wording of the verses is mostly very close to identical with the Old-Babylonian version. And the sequence of lines is almost (Enmerkar), and assuming that im-ru (b) also denotes a group of persons who are to meet with “those of princely descent” (= Uruk’s nobility) at the gate of the outer courtyard (i.e., coming from the outside). Both, (a) and (b) can be harmonized if (a) is a piece of writing naming the members of Nin-sumuna’s kinfolk (b), her clan (im - r u - a = i m - r i - a = kimtu, nišūtu, salātu; see CAD s.vv.), who are to meet with Lugalbanda’s kinfolk to witness the formal contraction of their marriage with solemn words. The description of the inscribed object (a) resembles the hollow clay “cones” and vessels with royal inscriptions discussed by Cooper 1985 and Marzahn 1997. Cf. also the grave grave inscriptions on partially pierced cones: VS 1,54 (VAT 3114; 3117); A. Deimel Or 6, 62f. no. 14; YOS 9,83 and on clay barrels: S. Langdon, Kish I pl. 34; B. Meissner, OLZ 1918: 220–23 (Šamaš-ibni). It must have been quite big, if the goddess could hide in it. Nin-súmun(.ak) means “Lady of the aurochs cows”; were her relatives aurochs? 92.  The explicitly written dative suffix - r a shows Lugalbanda in the genitive; cf. the graphically unmarked datives of non genitival L u g a l - b à n - d a (/Lugalbanda-r/) in iv 3 and v 6. 93.  Klein 2000 (2005). 94.  Cooper 1983. Sigla after Cooper’s edition (photgraphs of casts): K4 = 6N T988 = IM 70124: pl. XIX ; R3 = 6N T76 = IM 70097: pl. XIX; S3 = 6N T935 = IM 70122: pl. XIX.–NBC (published by B. Alster†) = NBC 11119 = 6N T1051: Alster 1993: 2; 7(copy). R3 is a single column tablet; K4, S3 and NBC(?)

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always the same–except for some additional Old-Babylonian ones. 95 Once, a pair of lines appears in a different context, where nobody would think it misplaced. But duplicating Ur III sources, too, show no little variance among each other and in their relation to the OB version which, as is well known, is not totally homogeneous in itself. Sequence of Preserved Ur III Lines (Line Numbers of OB Version)  96 S3: ||i 71–75, [76–83]; ||ii 84–86 [87–97]; iii[98,100,101,102,103, R3: ||98,100,101,102,103, S3: 104,105,106,107,112,113,]114,127–128, iv [115–123] 124–126|| R3: 104,105,106,107,112,113,⟨—⟩ 127–128, 115|| K4: i′ ⟨-]173?,174?, 175?,176?, [177, ii178,179,180,181,182,183,184, NBC: ⟨—————————],    177,    178,179,180,181,182, [———-⟩ K4: 185,186,187],188–189; 191–195

A disparate distribution of lines and of readings occurs in ll. “112–115.” Both Ur III exemplars (R3 and S3) place a pair of lines, which occurs in the OB version as ll. “127–128,” directly before l. “115.” S3 ends with l. “126;” R3 even before that.So we don’t know whether the Ur III Version had repeated ll. “127–128” where they occur in the OB version, which then could have weeded out a redundancy. But ll. “127– 128” describe preparations of the tools which are put to their destructive work in ll. “115–116.” Did the OB redactors cut out the redundant lines in the wrong place? One Ur III source omits, in addition, “l. 114,” which shows the line sequence “113, 114, 127, 128, 115” already problematic in Ur III times. And the Ur III source R3 (dugud “heavy”) differs lexically in l. “127” from S3 (daĝal “wide spread”), which is followed by the younger version. But in l. “128” it is the choice of words of R3 (gé-dim “spades”) which reappears in the OB texts, while S3 uses a different term, a-ru6-da5—‘unorthographic’ for a-ru12-da (“copper ingot;” according to PSD s.v.). This warns against generally accepting older exemplars as ‘more correct’ or more ‘original,’ if there ever was an (an author’s) ‘original’. Yet, it would also be premature to see the OB reading warranted as original by such an agreement. Noteworthy is also the difference between the Ur III (R3) and OB prefix chains of the verb in l. “113.” These variants demonstrate the Ur III text as much, or even more, in flux as it is, again, in OB times. And we should keep in mind how small the Ur III documentation is compared with the ca. 100 OB witnesses for the Curse of Agade. The contemporary Ur III variants don’t seem to differ typologically from Old-Babylonian ones. 112 R3 rev. [é]-e kur ĝišeren-na nu-me-a OB é-e kur ĝišeren ku5(/ĝiš ku5 eren) nu-me-a 113 R3 [ḫ]a-zi-inurudu gal-gal ì-ma-ta-dé urudu OB ḫa-zi-in gal-gal ba-ši-in-dé-dé(/de6-de6) are fragments of multi-column tablets. According to M. Civil (quoted Alster 1993:1) K4 and NBC are not parts of the same tablet. 95.  OB lines not in preserved part of Ur III version: 99; 108–111; 190. 96.  The photographs of the casts show the upper edge of source S3 and both, upper and lower edge of source R3 (marked here as ||); the last preserved line of K4 ii may be at the lower edge of the tablet; but that is not clear.

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Claus Wilcke 114 R3 — S3 [urudua-g]a?-[šil]ig? 97 á⸣/-mìn-na-bi ù-sa-ar- / ba-a5 urudu  98 OB aga/aga3-silig-ga á-min-a(/na)-bi-ta(/da) u4(/ù)-sar ba-an-a5 127 R3 úgur maḫ a eštub dugud-a-gim S3 úgur maḫ a eštubku6 daĝal-gim OB (a-šà) a-gàr maḫ(-gim) a eštub(ku6) daĝal-gim(/ke4) 128 R3 gé-dim gal-gal-bi kùš!?-kùš?-a bí-sè-sè S3 é-kur-ra a-ru6-da6 / gal-gal-bi kùš-a bí-sè-sè OB é-kur-ra(/re) (urudu)gé(/ge)-dim(/ḫa-zi-in) gal-gal-bi(/e)              kùš-kùš(/k[úšu?])-a bí-in-sè-sè(/dé-dé) 115 R3    úr-bi-a gé-dim  ba-ĝar || dub-saĝ OB    úr-bi-a urudugé(/ge)-dim ba-an-ĝar UR III

OB

112

At the house, though it was no cedar mountain, At the house, though it was no mountain where cedars are felled,

113

he had cast big copper axes

he had cast big copper axes against it.

114

R3 — S3 and had sharpened double-edged a.?-axes.

and had sharpened them together with double-edged a.-axes.

127

Like at huge tracts of land flooded by heavy (R3 / widespread: S3) spring flooding

Like at (fields,) huge tracts of land, flooded by widespread spring flooding,

128

he had all big spades for it (R3 / all the Ekur’s big copper ingots?: S3) set in(to) foundry molds,

he had all big spades(/axes) set/cast in(to) foundry molds for(/at) the Ekur,

115

and he set the spades at its roots. R3: Begin.

and he set the spades at its roots.

Text R3 ends with l. 115, which is followed by an obviously redactional line, which seems to be totally out of place: dub-sag corresponds to Akkadian maḫru and qudmu “earlier” “(in/from the) beginning;” W. von Soden, in AHw s.vv., assigns it the concrete meaning “Vorderseite.” But it is written on the reverse of the tablet, and not only on text R3, but also on the Lugalbanda text we will consider as our next and last example of Ur III literature. There like here, it is the last line on the tablet. We find this remark also on the cylinder inscription W 20475, 99 which begins with the word dub-saĝ. There, in col. i 1, it is in its expected place. Its use as the last line on the reverse of our Ur III tablets is perhaps best understood as a technical notation for library or filing purposes: “tablet top” meaning “this side up!” The end of the reverse, where we find the remark, is the upper edge of the tablet, and if one turns the tablet around, one is (again) at the beginning of the text incribed on it. This tells about the filing technique: tablets standing upright on shelves or in boxes or baskets, and one can easily leaf through them. 100 It also shows the Ur III reading 97.  Or, perhaps, [urudua- r ]u6- ⸢ da5⸣? There are only very indistinct traces of the lowest most wedges under the edge of the break. 98.  Text I writes both variant readings a and n a (each a gloss to the other); text Y2 erroneously reverses the order of - b i - d a. 99.  See A. Falkenstein 1963: 50; this inventory of the jewelry and other precious objects of the goddess Nanāya is unfortunately still unpublished. 100. The same filing system is suggested for the Presargonic period by the Sumerian term for “grand total” g ú a n - š è “(This) edge up!” which is almost invariably written at the beginning of the (leftmost when read horizontally, but) upper (when read vertically) “column” of the reverse and marks it as

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direction for clay tablets. It has to be horizontal, if the beginning is at the top. Stone inscriptions on statues and stelae as well as seal inscriptions, on the other hand, continue to be read vertically for centuries to come. Lugalbanda Epic (Lugalbanda I) Singular is the case of an Ur III Lugalbanda tablet. An interesting curio—right at its beginning—is the use of water clock terminology to describe an astronomical phenomenon, which, as far as I know, was until now not attested before the OB period. 101 The first visibility of the goddess Inana, i.e., Venus, after a 3 day winter conjunction with the sun is described here to last ten or five (a typical sequence to indicate minimal size, number or extension) shekels, i.e., taken literally, fourty or twenty minutes. Morning Star Venus rises shortly before the sun, which ends the first part of the Old-Babylonian Lugalbanda epic. Reading this Ur III Lugalbanda piece, we find the text telling the story backwards in blocks of lines. 6N T638 102 Venus Rising–Her Friends at the Door of Heaven i 1 i 2 i 3 i 4 i 5 i 6 i 7

⸢ḫi?-li⸣-na u giĝ4 :-ta 103 / [k]ur s[ubi4]: è-a 446 ⸢ḫi-li?-ŠÚM⸣-na ⸢kur subi4⸣ : iá giĝ4 / :-ta è-a 446 ⸢dKAL.KAL⸣ an-na ĝéštu bára / [x x] ⸢kur⸣ subi4-ta è-a 445/7 [dNin]-⸢immax⸣([Ĝ]Á×[SI]G7.ME) dKù-si22-bàn-da 448 i[g kur su]bi4 ⸢ĝiš⸣-gan kur subi4 PAP / ⸢kur⸣ [subi4] 444 zabar kur subi4 / ⸢UMBIN?⸣ kur subi4 sig4 ⟨kur⟩ subi4 mi-⸢la?⸣ šà-kúš dInana-me 449 x.⸢ŠÀ?⸣ dInana-ka-šè ì-su8-ge-eš 449

i 1 i 2 i 3 i 4 i 5 i 6 i 7

As she came with her hairdo for ten shekels out of the Agate-Mountains, As she came with her . . . hairdo for five shekel out of the Agate-Mountains, Then the heavenly (god) Kal.kal, Attention, the Podium and the [. . .], which had come out of the Agate-mountains, The goddess Nin-imma with (her spouse) Kusig-banda, The door leafs of the Agate-Mountains, the bolts of the Agate-Mountains, the . . . of the Agate-Mountains, the bronze of the Agate-Mountains, the . . . of the Agate-Mountains, and the bricks of the Agate-⟨Mountains ⟩ were close friends conversing confidently with Inana. They had taken their stand for Inana’s battle.

446 446 445/ 447 448 444 449 449

the top of the tablet. If this is the top, the lines in the “columns” were read vertically, and one could leaf through the summations giving the categorical details; the “columns” are then not vertical columns but horizontal bands. 101.  Hunger/Pingree 1989: 154; 163–64. 102.  Copy: fig. 1. S. Cohen 1973: 6 listed the tablet as an Ur III fragment of Lugalbanda-Hurrum and 1976: 100 quoted a few lines (ii 7–12 = iii 8–12) from it. — The numbers on the right hand side of transliteration and translation indicate line numbers (in my reconstruction) of the OB version corresponding (more or less) to the Ur III ones. Even if the Ur III wording may be quite close to it, it is never identical. 103.  I cannot explain the position of the case suffix - t a (ablative-intrumental) after g i ĝ4 “sheqel” in ll. 1–2 and not after k u r s u b i4.

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Claus Wilcke Flashback 1: shortly before Inana rises as the morning star i 8 i 9 i 10

a-ne-ne lú ⸢eden?⸣ bar-tab-ba al-me-a-ke4-eš ~410 bára za-gìn dInana-ke4 ul-la ba-an-su8-ge-eš ~443 d Inana-da si-sá-bi gaba ru-a inim mu-dì-ni-bé-ne

i 8 i 9 i 10

Because the steppe outside was locked to them, They had in beauty stepped up to Inana’s lapis-blue socle Were speaking with Inana, having confronted her directly.

~410 ~440 ~443

Flashback 2: Sunrise and sacrificial repast i 11 i 12 i 13 ii 1

d

Utu nam-ta-è ašx(ĝá×sig7)-me / gal-e an-ki-a-kam 362/474 An dEn-líl dNin-líl / dEn-ki dNin-ḫur-saĝ 363 d Lugal-bàn-da-a mu / dEn-líl-lá zi-dè-éš mu-pà 363 [níĝ šu du11-ga] d/Lu[gal-bàn-da An dEn-líl dNin-líl] / d En-[ki dNin-ḫur-saĝ]/-[ke4 (du10-ga-bi) mu-gu7(-uš)] 365f. i 11 i 12 i 13 ii 1

The (Sun god) Utu rose–was this great sun disc here linking heaven and earth. (362||474) And An, Enlil, Ninlil, Enki and Ninḫursaĝa— 364 Lugalbanda had in due form invoked Enlil’s name— 363 [An, Enlil, Ninlil], En[ki und Ninḫursaĝa had eaten (what tasted good] 375 from the food) Lu[galbanda had prepared]. 376

Flashback 3: Caching animals for sacrifice ii 2 am-šu-ú[r-gi? am šà-sig?-ga] / am-tùm a[m mur-dì-x] 294 ii 3 am bar6-bar6 ⸢á⸣-[bi AḪ/AḪ.AḪ./AḪ-ḫa (x)] 295 ii 4–5 am gú-⸢è⸣-[gú-è (x)] || am ḫur-saĝ-ĝ[á nam-a-a-ak] ii 6 am-si4-si4 ḫur-s[aĝ ki sikil-la] / umbin-bi ⸢ù? ⸣-[ḪUR-re] 296 ii 7 šim-gig še-gi[m ì-túkur-re] 297 ii 8 ⸢šim ḫa⸣-šu-úr-[ra ú-gug4?]/-gim ⸢ì⸣-[ma5-ma5] 298 še ii 9 šinx(ŠIM×ĜAR)-nu6 k[iri4-ba ú ḫurin]/-gim ì-ur5-u[r5-re] 299 ii 10 a ḫal-ḫal-ka šà ù!-m[i!]/-ni-íb-si-[si] 300 ii 11 eš22 lam kur-ra-ka buluḫ m[u-un]/-si-il-si-il-[le] 301 ii 12 šim-li ĝiš ú s[ikil ḫur]/-⸢saĝ⸣-ĝá-ka z[ú-ba mi-ni]/-íb-[túkur-re] 301 ii 13 am-si4 am-kur-[ra ú-a] / [su8-ba-bi] 302 iii 1 dLugal-bàn-[da-a EŠ5tenû-àm] / gú ba-da-g[ú-úr(-gú-úr)] 303 iii 2 šim ḫa-šu-ú[r u4 nu-zu kur-ra ba]/-ra-an-zi ús ba?-d[a?-an?-a5?] 304 iii 3 máš šu-úr gi máš šà-[sig-ga] / máš tùm máš mur-dì-[x máš] / bar6-bar6 á-bi AḪ/AḪ. AḪ/AḪ-⸢ḫa⸣ [()] 308 iii 4–5 máš gú-è-gú-UD.D[U (x x)] // máš ḫur-saĝ-⸢ĝá nam⸣-[a-a-ak] iii 6 [máš si4-si4 ḫur-saĝ ki sikil-la] / [umb]in-b[i ù-ḪUR-re] iii 7 šim-gi[g še-gim ì-túkur-re] 309 iii 8 šim ḫa-š[u-úr-ra ú gug4]/-gim ⸢ì⸣-[ma5-ma5] 310 iii 9 šešinx(šim×ĝar)-n[u6 kiri4-ba ú ḫurin]/-gim ì-[ur5-ur5-re] 311 iii 10 a ḫal-ḫal-ka šà [ù-mi-ni]/-íb-[si] 313 iii 11 eš22 lam kur-r[a-ka buluḫ mu-un]/-si-i[l-si-il-le] 313 iii 12 ši[m-li ĝiš ú sikil ḫur]/-saĝ-[ĝá-ka zú-ba mi-ni]/-[íb-túkur-re] 313 iii 13 máš [si4 máš kur-ra ú-a] / [su8-ba(/ga)-bi (?)] 314 d iv 1 Lugal-bàn-da-a EŠ5tenû-àm / du10-ga-na ba-ta-an-KAL.KAL 315 iv 2 šim ḫa-šu-úr u4 nu-zu / kur-ra-ka ì-ma-ni-íb/-laḫ5-laḫ5 iv 3 tir ĝišŠE.ḪI kur-ra-ke4 zà!(BÁRA turned 90°)-ga-ni bí-ús 308b iv 4–5  ĝiše-ri8-na-bi ú A.ZI/ZI / gíd!-da a-šà-ga-gim, ĝíri-ta ba-ta-šab 305–306

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iv 6 iv 7 iv 8 iv 9

mu-dar šu bí-kíĝ ⸢šu-šar⸣/-šè m[u-un-a5?] 307 [a]m ⸢si4 am si4 am⸣ kur-ra-ka 316/307 si-ba samanx(SÙ.NUN.KU4.ÉŠ) im-ma-ni-ĝar 316/307 máš-si4 máš kur-ra EŠ5tenû-a-ba / du10 guz-šè bí-lá 316

ii 2 ii 3 ii 4–5 ii 6 ii 7 ii 8 ii 9 ii 10 ii 11 ii 12 ii 13 iii 1 iii 2 iii 3 iii 4–5 iii 6 iii 7 iii 8 iii 9 iii 10 iii 11 iii 12 iii 13 iv 1 iv 2 iv 3 iv 4–5 iv 6 iv 7–8 iv 9

Sure-[footed] aurochs, [aurochs of the valley], . . . aurochs, aur[ochs in the? brambles?], 294 White aurochs [with sparkling] horns, 295 All-over hairy aurochs, mountain aurochs [had appeared]. 295 Brown aurochs which had polished their hooves in the mountains, the clean place, were snorting 296 And chewing seeds of evil-smell-resin as if they were barley. 297 Had [at the same time] crus[hed] sweet smelling cypresses like cattails 298 Had also with their noses sniffed at the sprigs as if they were blue grass. 299 As soon as they had filled their bellies with water from the torrents, 300 They had been chewing with their teeth mountain-nuts while belching 301 And fragrant junipers, the cleansing mountain herb. 301 Brown aurochs, mountain aurochs wandering through the undergrowth— 302 [They were three]–Lugalbanda had just rounded them up. 303 He withdrew from the fragrant cypresses, where no daylight is known in the mountains, on which he had leaned. 304 Sure-footed billy goats, billy goats of the valley, . . . billy goats, billy goats in the brambles, white billy goats with . . . horns, 308 All-over hairy billy goats, mountain billy goats had appeared. 308 Brown billy goats which had ⟨polished⟩ their hooves in the mountains, the clean place, were [snorting] 309 [And chewing seeds of evil-smell-resin as if they were barley, 309 Had at the same time crushed fragrant cypresses like cattails 310 Had also with their noses sniffed at the sprigs as if they were blue grass. 311 As soon as they had filled their bellies with water from the torrents, 312–313 They had been chewing with their teeth mountain nuts while belching 313 And fragrant junipers, the cleansing mountain herb. 313 [Brown] billy goats, [mountain billy goats wandering through the undergrowth,] 314 They were three. Lugalbanda had vanquished them kneeling 315 To lead them under the fragrant cypresses, where no daylight is known. 304 He had taken refuge among the mountain’s forest of sprigs, 305 Had cut off with the dagger their roots like long ḥalfa-grass in the fields 306 Had split them, worked them with his hands and [stranded] them into ropes 307 Had put tethering ropes over the horns of the brown aurochs 307/316 And had tied the three brown billy goats to their shaggy knees.

Flashback 4: Fire iv 10–11  pú na4-ta a ba-ta-an-AM, na4zú sal-la bí bí-mú 280/283a–284 iv 12 mìn-a-bi téš-e ḫé-ab-ra/-ra zú bí-ĝír bir5-bir5/-ra-bi BAḪAR ba-ni-du7 282 iv 13 ne-mur ki imin-na bí-dub 283d/288 iv 14 dub saĝ iv 10

He had ladled? water out of a stone pit, let smoke rise from slim obsidians.

280/284

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Claus Wilcke iv 12 iv 13 iv 14

Striking two of them against each other, he let the obsidians flash, let sparks. . . dance. He had heaped up charcoal in seven places. Begin.

282 283d/288

As I understand it, our scribe, having reached the (first) culmination point of the narrative, the successful return of Venus, recalls in flashbacks highlights of the story told. The OB version of Lugalbanda I ends with the sun rising over the cedars of the cypress mountains (487–488) shortly after Inana had returned to the sky as Morning Star and had eclipsed all other stars. 6N T638 may therefore be the last in a series of tablets of an Ur III version of Lugalbanda I (or the first one of Lugalbanda II?) recapitulating previous events. Whether the sunrise after the night of the battle of Inana’s friends at the gate of heaven against the stars of Capricorn to secure her return to the sky was narrated in the Ur III version of Lugalbanda I, too, will, for the time being, stay an open question. Sumerian and, as far as I see, Mesopotamian narrative art does not normally use the technique of flashbacks. 6N T638 displays a liberty of narrators to, while using the pre-formulated text, make free of their creativity to enliven it for the benefit of readers or listeners, a liberty perhaps lost in the course of the canonization of literature—but perhaps the “singers of tales”—to pay my respects to Albert Lord— kept their toolkit separate from that of the scribes.

References Bauer, J. 1972 Altsumerische Wirtschaftstexte aus Lagasch. Studia Pohl 9. Rome: Päpstliches Bibelinstitut. 1975 Darlehensurkunden aus Girsu. JESHO 18: 189–218. 1976 1. Eine neue Darlehensurkunde aus Girsu. 1.1–3 Supplement to JESHO 18 (1975): 189– 218. Altorientalische Notizen 1–4. Würzburg. Biggs, R. D. 1974 Inscriptions from Tell Abū Ṣalābīkh. OIP 99. Chicago: The University of Chigago Press. Bing, J. D. 1977 Gilgamesh and Lugalbanda in the Fara Period. JANES 9: 1–4. Charpin, D. 1987 Les Décréts Royaux à l’Époque Paléo-Babylonienne, à propos d’un Ouvrage Récent. AfO 35: 36–44. 2004 Histoire Politique du Proche Orient Amorrite (2002–1595). Pp. 23–480 in Annäherungen 4. Edited by P. Attinger et al. OBO 160/4. Freiburg: Schweiz / Göttingen. Civil, M. 2011 The Law collection of Urnamma. Pp. 221–286 in Cuneiform Royal Inscriptions and Related Texts in the Schøyen Collection. Edited by A. R. George. Manuscripts in the Schøyen Collection, Cuneiform Texts VI. CUSAS 17. Bethesda, MD: CDL Press. Cohen, M. E. 1993 The Cultic Calenders of the Ancient Near East. Bethesda, MD: CDL Press. Cohen, S. 1973 Enmerkar and the Lord of Aratta. Ph.D. dissertation. University of Pennsylvania. 1976 Studies in Sumerian Lexicography. Pp.  97–110 in Kramer Anniversary Volume. Edited by B. Eichler et al. AOAT 25. Kevelaer: Verlag Butzon & Bercker / Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag.

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Cooper, J. 1983 The Curse of Agade. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press. 1985 Medium and Message. RA 79: 97–114. Durand, J.-M. 1977 Une Condemnation à mort à l’Époque d’Ur III. RA 71: 125–136. Edzard, D. O. 1968 Sumerische Rechtsurkunden aus der Zeit vor der III. Dynastie von Ur. ABAW  67. München : Verlag der Bayerischen Akademie der Wissenschaften. 1984 Hymnen, Beschwörungen und Verwandtes. Archivi Reali di Ebla. Testi 5. Roma: Università degli Studi di Roma La Sapienza. Falkenstein, A. 1956–1957 Neusumerische Gerichtsurkunden I-III. ABAW 39, 40, 44. München: Verlag der Bayerischen Akademie der Wissenschaften. Foster, B. 1982 Umma in the Sargonic Period. Connecticut Academy of Arts and Sciences. Memoirs 20. Hamden, CT: Archon Books. Gelb, I. J, et al. 1991 Earliest Land Tenure Systems in the Near East: Ancient Kudurrus. OIP 104/1–2. Chicago. Gomi, T. 1980 Neo-Sumerian Administrative Tablets in the British Museum I. ASJ 2: 1–36. Heimpel, W. 1995 Plow Animal Inspection Records from Ur III Girsu and Umma. Domestic Animals of Mesopotamia. Part 2. Bulletin of Sumerian Agriculture 8. Cambridge: Sumerian Agriculture Group. Hunger, H., and Pingree D. 1989 mul.apin. An Astronomical Compendium in Cuneiform. AfO Beiheft 24. Horn. Jacobsen, Th. 1989 Lugalbanda and Ninsuna. JCS 41: 69–86. Klein, J. 2000 The independent pronouns in the Šulgi Hymns. Pp. 135–152 in Special Volume in Honor of Professor Mamoru Yoshikawa. Edited by J. Black and G. Zólyomi. ASJ 22 (appeared 2005). Kraus, F. R. 1984 Königliche Verfügungen in Altbabylonischer Zeit. Studia et Documenta ad Iura Orientis Antiqui Pertinentia XI. Leiden: E.J. Brill. Krebernik, M. 1992 Mesopotamian Myths at Ebla: ARET 5,6 and ARET 5,7. QdS 18: 63–148. Krecher, J. 1988 Der erste Band des Pennsylvania Sumerian Dictionary und der Stand der Sumerologie heute. ZA 78: 241–275. Lafont, B. 1994 L’Avènement de Šu-Sîn. RA 88: 97–119. Lafont, B, and Westbrook R. 2003 Neo Sumerian Period (Ur III). Pp. 183–226 in A History of Ancient Near Eastern Law. Edited by R. Westbrook. Handbook of Oriental Studies. Section I, vol. 72/1. Leiden / Boston: Brill. Lambert, W. 1989 Notes on a Work of Most Ancient Semitic Literature. JCS 41: 1–31. 1992 The Language of ARET 5,6 and 7. QdS 18: 41–62. Meyer-Laurin, V. 2010 Die marû-Basen der sumerischen Verben túm “hin-, wegführen” und ȓe6/de6 “bringen, liefern.” ZA 100: 1–14.

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Owen, D. 1977 Death for Default. Pp. 159–161 in Essays on the Ancient Near East in Memory of Jacob Joel Finkelstein. Edited by M. de Jong Ellis. Memoirs of the Connecticut Adademy of Arts and Sciences 19. Hamden, CT: Archon Books. Roth, M. 1984 A Reassessment of RA 71 (1977) 125ff. AfO 31: 9–14. Sallaberger, W. 2004 ,bringen‘ im Sumerischen. Lesung und Bedeutung von de6(DU) und túm(DU). Pp. 557– 576 in Von Sumer bis Homer. Festschrift für Manfred Schretter zum 60. Geburtstag am 25. Februar 2004. Edited by R. Rollinger. AOAT 325. Münster: Ugarit-Verlag. 2005 The Sumerian Verb na-de5(-g) “to clear”. Pp. 229–253 in “An Experienced Scribe who Neglects Nothing”. Edited by Y. Sefati et al. Bethesda, MD: CDL Press. Schrakamp, I. 2010 Review of Wilcke 22007. ZA 100: 142–148. Selz, G. 1989 Die altsumerischen Wirtschaftsurkunden der Eremitage zu Leningrad. FAOS 15/1. Stuttgart. 1993 Altsumerische Wirtschaftsurkunden aus amerikanischen Sammlungen. FAOS 15/2. Stuttgart. Sigrist, M. 1991 Messenger Texts from the British Museum. Potomac, MD: CDL Press. Sollberger, E. 1948 Documents Cunéiformes au Musée d’Art et d’Histoire. Genava 26: 48–72. Steinkeller, P. 1981 The Renting of Fields in Early Mesopotamia and the Development of the Concept of “Interest” in Sumerian. JESHO 24: 113–145. Waetzoldt, H. 1987 Compensation of Craft Workers and Officials in the Ur III Period. Pp. 117–141 in Labor in the Ancient Near East. Edited by M. Powell. AOS 68. New Haven: American Oriental Society. Wilcke, C. 1985 Familiengründung im Alten Babylonien. Pp. 117–132 in Geschlechtsreife und Legitimation zur Zeugung. Edited by E. W. Müller. Kindheit und Familie 1. Veröff. des Instituts für Historische Anthropologie 3. Freiburg. 1987 Lugalbanda. RlA 7/1–2: 117–132. 1988 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. 1991 Die Lesung von ÁŠ-da = kiššātum. NABU 1991: 13–14 no. 16. 1996 Neue Rechtsurkunden der Altsumerischen Zeit. ZA 86: 1–67. 1999 Neusumerische Merkwürdigkeiten. Pp.  623–637 in Munuscula Mesopotamica: FS J. Renger. Edited by B. Böck et al. AOAT 267. Münster: Ugarit-Verlag. 2002 Der Codex Urnamma (CU): Versuch einer Rekonstruktion. Pp. 291–333 in Riches Hidden in Secret Places. Ancient Near Eastern Studies in Memory of Thorkild Jacobsen. Edited by Tz. Abusch. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. 2003 Early Ancient Near Eastern Law: A History of its Beginnings. Munich: Verlag der Bayerische Akademie der Wissenschaften. 2005 The Liability of superiors for deficits of their subordinates. NABU 2005: 79–81 no. 74. 2006a kišib gíd: eine Siegelurkunde prolongieren. NABU 2006: 18–19 no. 21. 2006b Die Hymne auf das Heiligtum Keš: Zu Struktur und „Gattung“ einer altsumerischen Dichtung und zu ihrer Literaturtheorie. Pp. 201–237 in Approaches to Sumerian Literature. Studies in Honor of Stip (H.L.J. Vanstiphout). Edited by P. Michalowski, and N. Veldhuis. Cuneiform Monographs 35. Leiden / Boston: Brill. 2 2007a Early Ancient Near Eastern Law: A History of its Beginnings. Revised Edition. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns.

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2007b Markt und Arbeit im Alten Orient am Ende des 3. Jahrtausends v. Chr. Pp. 71–132 in Menschen und Märkte. Studien zur historischen Wirtschaftsanthropologie. Edited by W. Reinhard, and J. Stagl. Veröffentlichungen des Instituts für Historische Anthropologie 9. Wien et al. 2007c Labour as merchandise. NABU 2007:8–9 no. 8. 2007d Das Recht: Grundlage des sozialen und politischen Denkens im Alten Orient. Pp. 209– 244 in Das geistige Erfassen der Welt im Alten Orient. Edited by C. Wilcke. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag. 2008 Der Kauf von Gütern durch den „staatlichen“ Haushalt der Provinz Umma zur Zeit der III. Dynastie von Ur: Ein Beitrag zu „Markt und Arbeit im Alten Orient am Ende des 3. Jahrtausends v. Chr.“ Pp. 261–285 in On the Third Dynasty of Ur. Studies in Honor of Marcel Sigrist. Edited by P. Michalowski. JCS Supplement 1. Boston: American Schools of Oriental Research. 2010a Sumerian, What We Know and What We Want to Know. Pp.  5–76 in Language in the Ancient Near East. Proceedings of the 53e Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale I/1. Babel und Bibel 4/1. Orientalia et Classica XXX/1. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. 2010b Eine Pflug-Zugtier-Inspektion aus Umma: Grenzen der Haftung für anvertrautes öffentliches Eigentum. Pp.  351–372 in Gazing on the Deep:  Ancient Near Eastern and Other Studies in Honor of Tzvi Abusch. Edited by J. Stackert et al. Bethesda, MD: CDL Press. Yang, Zh. 1989 Sargonic Inscriptions from Adab. The Institute for the History of Ancient Civilizations. Periodic Publications on Ancient Civilizations 1. Changchun.

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The Soul in the Stele? J. D. Hawkins London

I.  The KTMW stele The new round of excavations at Zincirli, resumed in 2006 more than a century after the close of the early excavations, made a sensational discovery during the season of 2008: a well preserved funerary stele with seated figure and a 13-line Aramaic inscription. This states that it is the monument of KTMW, servant of PNMW doubtless to be identified as Panamuwa II king of Sam’al-Y’DY, a client of Tiglath-pileser III, who fell fighting for the Assyrians at the siege of Damascus in 733–732 B.C. The stele was discovered apparently in situ in a small room of a private house, which thus seems to have been a mortuary chapel, although no interment or cremation deposit has been found in the vicinity. This find has been published with admirable promptness by D. Schloen and A. Fink (2009a, 2009b), and the inscription in an exemplary edition by D. Pardee (2009). There are however two points of Pardee’s translation which I must query: (line 5) “. . . and a ram for my ‘soul’ (nbš) that (will be) in this stele”; and (line 10) “. . . to perform the slaughter (prescribed above) in (proximity to) my ‘soul’.” Unfortunately Pardee has placed emphasis on the idea that this explicitly indicates “the on-going presence of the nbš within the stele”, and “the belief that the nbš found its dwelling in the stele after the body had gone up in smoke [at cremation]” (page 62). The excavators too have stressed this idea for its novelty (Schloen and Fink, 2009a, page 11), and it has also featured prominently in the publicity attracted by the excavations, leading to such statements as the stele providing “the first written evidence in the region that people believed the soul was separate from the body”. Such claims have already been adequately rebutted by Melchert (2010b), citing the evidence for the antiquity of the belief from Hittite Empire and Neo-Hittite sources. He does however adhere to the idea that the deceased’s “soul resides in the stele itself”.

II.  Sam’alite Dependence on the Luwian Tradition Regrettably I cannot agree with this colourful interpretation of the stele’s words, and I must propose an altogether more prosaic understanding. In support of this argument I begin by re-emphasizing the dependence of the Sam’alite culture on the Neo-Hittite tradition, especially that of Karkamiš, which harks back to the parent culture of the Hittite Empire. This dependence is apparent in many aspects of 49

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civilization: the architecture, particularly the architectural decoration of sculptured orthostats, and the motifs of the sculpture as seen in the Outer Citadel Gate compared with those of the King’s Gate and Long Wall of Sculpture at Karkamiš; the practice of erecting colossal ruler statues (that from Zincirli perhaps from a Karkamiš workshop itself), and the inscription of such statues with commemorative deeds of the ruler; the individual memorials showing the deceased seated at a funerary meal, holding a cup (the present stele stands at the end of a long line of such monuments mostly coming from nearby Maraş, ancient Gurgum). The Sam’alite inscriptions themselves follow the Hieroglyphic Luwian tradition, both in external form (the Semitic letters being executed, uniquely, in relief rather than incised), and in literary style (e.g. the old Hittite-Luwian topos of the author having achieved what his forebears did not achieve). It is my contention here that KTMW in his inscription both exhibits the same attitudes to funerary ritual found in the Hittite-Luwian tradition, and specifically selects the term nbš, “soul”, a translation of the Hieroglyphic Luwian word atri-. Pardee, op.cit., p.62, comments on the term nbš, a variant of npš. Maria-Giulia Amadasi Guzzo, who kindly read through a draft of this article, reminds me of the wide range of meaning of npš and its apparent semantic development: life–person– soul–disposition–funerary monument, as listed in Hoftijzer and Jongeling, Dictionary of the North-West Semitic Inscriptions, s.v.

III.  Luwian Funerary Monuments and Concepts I have published two studies on Late Hittite funerary monuments (Hawkins, 1980, 1989), in which I noted the different forms: scenes showing men or families seated at funerary meals, generally associated with Maraş, usually executed on roughly shaped boulders, seldom inscribed; blocks shaped like castellated towers with incised inscriptions only, particularly from Karkamiš and its environs; and round-topped stelae with longer autobiographical inscriptions, incised, from Tabal. I also examined the terminology of the inscriptions, particularly the word “die” (arha wala-), and the concept atri-. The inscriptions in revised form have reappeared in my CHLI I (2000), and have further been collected in Bonatz’s much more exhaustive study of the genre of funerary monuments (2000). Some passages bearing on the present topic are recapitulated here. 1. Some belief in the afterlife is expressed in a protective curse on an inscribed door-jamb of the Temple of the Storm-God in Karkamiš, KARKAMIŠ A2+3, §§21–23: “Him let this Tarhunza curse, and when he shall be ‘out of the way’, let him not see the faces of Tarhunza and Kubaba”.

A close parallel to the phrase “be out of the way/off the road” as a euphemism for death is found already in the Hittite Empire in a prayer of Hattusili to the SunGoddess of Arinna (KUB XXI 19(+), ii 12–15): “He who did this very deed of Danuhepa, he too has already become a god, he has stepped off from the road, and has already paid for it with his head.” (referring to Hattusili’s deceased brother Muwatalli II).

The Karkamiš curse shows the belief that the innocent man after death might expect to see the faces of the gods.

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2. On a personal memorial from Kululu the speaking dead man says (KULULU 2, §3): “On my couch, eating and drinking . . . with the god Sanda I died”.

revealing the belief that the afterlife might involve feasting with the gods. This view appears also on the Hadad statue inscription of Panammu I of Sam’al, where he hopes that his soul may eat and drink with Hadad. 3. On a small stele with building inscription from Kululu, the author Ruwa, servant of the ruler Tuwati, envisages the durability of his foundation after his own demise (KULULU 1, §§15–16): “But when I myself shall ‘go away’ into the presence of the gods from the rule of Tuwati, these houses (will be) here”.

‘Go away’ as another euphemism for ‘die’ appears also on one of the Karkamiš tower memorials (KARKAMIŠ A18b, §3). In Kululu Ruwa also shows the belief that death would be a passage into divine presence. 4. The same Ruwa (probably) left on his memorial inscription on a stele, set up, as it informs us, by his nephew, and starting, uniquely, “I was Ruwa . . .” (instead of the usual “I (am) So-and-so”) (KULULU 4, §§3–5, 9): “The gods loved my time, and they put into me a beloved ATRI, and I SARMAYAZA-ed under my lords and Labarna(?) with my ATLI . . . From me the gods took the beloved, put-in ATNI (as) WALIYAWATI . . .”.

With this very informative context we return to the concept of the atri-, with the apparent variant forms atli- and atni-, which is put into Ruwa by the gods and subsequently taken (received) by them, thus clearly expressing the ‘soul’ at birth and death. This interpretation is supported by a Hittite parallel, from the Prayer of the mortal man to the Sun God (CTH 372, iv 24.): “As formerly I was born from my mother’s womb, O my god, put that very soul back into me”.

Thus we see the Hittites and their Iron Age heirs might believe that the gods put the soul (Hittite ZI/istanza-, Luwian atri-) into mortals.

IVa.  The Luwian Concept atri-: Yakubovich’s View I discussed the concept atri- in my treatments of Late Hittite funerary monuments and most recently again in CHLI I/2 (p.460 for discussion). This was criticized by Yakubovich in his review article of CHLI I (2002, pp.194–197; cf. 2010, p.164). He is perfectly right to point out that on occasion I have translated atri- as “image”, where “person”, as I have translated it elsewhere, would have been more appropriate: in particular his citations 13 and 15. His citations 10, 11, 12 and 14 however require further consideration (below). He is also right to question, on the grounds of morphological mismatch, my identification of Luwian atri- with Hittite es(sa)ri, (logogram ALAM, “statue, form, figure”), on which I based my translation. The etymology of es(sa)ri seems straightforward: a -ri formation on the stem es-, “be” (Puhvel, HED, Kloekhorst, HIL, s.v.).

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Clearly atri- is not susceptible to a similar analysis. Nevertheless the parallelism which I originally noted between the Hittite curse directed against “his es(sa)ri and his house” (KUB XVII 28 ii 43–44) and the Luwian against “his atri- and his house (TOPADA, §38) is sufficiently striking not to be dismissed, even if the two words are not cognate but only co-referential. To judge from its etymology the basic meaning of es(sa)ri should be “being, essence”, giving a progression of meaning “shape, form, (body) frame, likeness, image, icon, statue” (so Puhvel). HWb2, s.v.  separates the various usages and remarks (p.124) “. . . wie eng der Übergang zwischen Gestalt und Statue nach heth. Vorstellung sein kann”. As for atri- one can well envisage a similar semantic development from the basic “self, person, soul” towards “form, likeness, shape”, especially since ancient peoples (and modern?) conceive the soul as the likeness of the living person. With this in mind, we may re-examine Yakubovich’s citations 10, 11, 12 and 14, in which he considers that the translation of atri- as “image, figure” is not “synchronically warranted” (as I have conceded for citations 13 and 15). citation 10. “I made my own atri- SCALPRUM(-)i-ara/i-za”. Of course our understanding of this is crucially obscured by our ignorance of the SCALPRUM word, except that it should be stone. Yakubovich (fn.14) follows van den Hout (2002, p.185), who took up a suggestion of mine (CHLI I, pp.132, 518) comparing SCALPRUM(-) i-ara/i-za with a word i+ra/i-ia-za, and further a suggestion of Petra Goedegebuure to link both to a verb iti-, “carve” (attested only as arha (MANUS/L.69) iti-, “erase”). The linkage is somewhat more complicated than envisaged by van den Hout: i-ara/imust surely represent iara/i-, so to combine i-ara/i-za with i+ra/i-ia-za a form i(a)ri(ya)- would be required; and to link this to iti-, a form i(a)ti(ya)-> i(a)ri(ya)-, deverbative i(a)ri(ya)nza, “carved thing, carving”. The postulated development is ingenious but complicated. If accepted, Yakubovich’s “I made my person into a stone object” is well on the way to “I made my likeness (as) a stone carving.” citation 11. “For me . . . he looked on the atris”. The sense is certainly obscured by the breaks, but there are only two damaged words: á-x[. . .-]sa, which looks like amis, “my” (nom. sing. MF); and [. . .]x-sa, which would also be nom. sing. MF and provide the subject. Yakubovich’s “of my X and Y” could not be extracted from the traces. An interpretation “For me my [. . .] looked on the persons/souls” hardly commends itself; but “For me my [. . .] looked on the images “ (“my images”?) does offer some possibility of sense. citation 12. Yakubovich’s “I did not set up his person” ignores the NEG2-′ RELi-ha which demands a literal translation “Not (as) any atri- did I set him up”. Here “person, soul” will hardly fit but must have passed to a more concrete meaning “likeness, image”, a progression rather more than Yakubovich’s “‘person’ here a metaphor for a statue”. citation 14. This example is not rendered “useless” by the uncertainty of the verb.” I (am) Tarhuntiwasti, Azini’s wife, who did not [. . .] my woman’s atri-, but for me Azini made (it and) also my . . . with goodness”. This seems reasonably intelligible in spite of the losses. I have suggested that the two female figures represent the living Tarhuntiwasti on the right with the mirror, and the soul of Tarhuntiwasti on the left with the cup, and I see it as significant that the phrase “my woman’s atri-“ is written over the head of the latter. If this is correct, while atri- means “soul” here, it actually refers to the sculpted figure below.

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Thus it is my contention that contrary to Yakubovich’s restriction of the meaning of atri-, the word has passed beyond the literal meaning of “person, soul” through an easy transition to “likeness, image”, and in citation 14 refers to the pictorial representation of the soul on the memorial. In citations 10 and 12, atri- seems to refer to representations of living persons, Yariri of himself and Arpa of his lord and brother Hamiyata. Hittite es(sa)ri, “form, figure, statue,” attested in a strikingly parallel context to Luwian atri-, seems to show a semantic development of a similar kind. Further, a new attestation contributes additional information on atri-/atni-, JISR EL HADID 4 (Dinçol, Dinçol, Peker and Hawkins 2014). “I made him (as) his ATRI (double accusative), and him for his father’s gods I alted(?) (as) an ATNI” (double accusative).

This appears to show a further alternation of atri- and atni- in closely juxtaposed contexts. While a precise understanding of the passage is difficult, in the first clause at least, a translation of atri- as “person, soul” would seem nonsense, whereas “likeness, image” would be intelligible.

IVb.  The Luwian Concept atri-: van den Hout’s Contribution The relevant article by van den Hout (2002) is cited with approval by Yakubovich (fn.18), but unfortunately now needs correction, since recent developments have invalidated some of van den Hout’s arguments. 1. His suggestion that the writing tara/i-sa/sà cannot represent tarusa, “statue”, since the sign tara/i (L.389) cannot be used for taru, has been invalidated by the discovery of the two duplicate ARSUZ stelae (Dinçol and Dinçol, 2010: conference paper, publication forthcoming), where a writing LIGNUM-ru-wa/i-i has the duplicate (LIGNUM) tara/i-wa/i, taruwi, “wood” (dat. sing.). 2. His further dependent proposal that tara/i-sa/sà may be recognized as an aphaeresized form of atri-, which he identifies also in (VAS)tara/i- (instead of VAS-tara/i-) has been invalidated by the observation of the graphic phenomenon initial-a-final, which has the effect of eliminating aphaeresis (Melchert, 2010a); thus maintain the transcription VAS-tara/i-, an incomplete phonetic writing of atri-. 3. With the collapse of van de Hout’s postulated *tri-, his separate (VAS)tani-, “soul”, cognate with Hitt. istanza-, also falls, which in any case encountered morphological problems (Melchert, 2010b, p.8). As against these invalidations, van den Hout’s identification of the logogram VAS (L.341) as actually a schematic representation of a human heart, thus COR, still stands, determining as it does zart(iya)-, “heart”, with derivative zarti-, “desire”, and atri-, “person, soul”, with the possibly derived atnasama-, “wisdom”, and other related concepts. To van den Hout also I owe a valuable suggestion for the interpretation of a passage on the new Aleppo Temple inscription ALEPPO 6, §§2–3 (Hawkins, 2011, p.45, Addendum), which probably involves atri- rather than zarti(ya)-: the word is only written logographically COR, but COR-na (§2) appears to be acc. sing. MF, thus atrin. The passage according to van den Hout’s suggestion would mean: §2. “For my Lord the Halabean Storm-God I honoured the desire (literally “soul”),

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§3. and for me the Halabean Storm-God did (that) of the desire (literally “(that) of the soul”).

V.  Offerings to the ‘Soul’/to Statues Before leaving atri-, one further consideration, speculative but possibly significant, may be examined. I have suggested that Atrisuha, the name of the deity seated at the King’s Gate in Karkamiš (KARKAMIŠ A4d), may be analysed atri-suha-, “soul of Suhi”, and represents Suhi I, the deified ancestor of the line of Country-Lords of Karkamiš. To place this proposal on a sounder footing, a plausible morphological explanation for the order of the two elements may be required, since *Suhisatri might be the more expected. Conceivably Akkadian influence which was beginning to be felt in Karkamiš might provide an explanation: Atri-suhi for “soul of Suhi” could reflect the Akkadian genitive construction. If this interpretation is correct, it would provide an example of offering animals to the soul of the deceased (KARKAMIŠ A4d curses the failure to offer), as known already from Hittite Empire times, particularly from the so-called “King Lists” (actually offering lists) and the Death Rituals. Further examples of offering animals to memorial “statues” (tarut-) are known from the Late Hittite period. “For myself my statue I [set up . . .]. He who is (a man) of sheep, let him offer a sheep to this statue” (KARKAMIŠ A1a, §§28, 30–31).

In this inscription of Suhi II, the statue of himself to which he refers seems to have been a colossal figure almost identical to the figure from Zincirli but surviving only in fragments (KARKAMIŠ B54), standing on an almost identical base (KARKAMIŠ B53). Similar statements are found in Commagene in the inscription MALPINAR §§5, 26 of a royal servant: “Let them present to this my statue, (that) of Alayaza servant of Hattusili with a sheep . . . to this statue of Alayaza let him offer a sheep.”

The statue in question seems to be the introductory amu-figure at the beginning of the inscription.

VI.  KTMW’s Soul on the Stele We return now to KTMW. This Luwian-named gentleman with a background of Luwian artistic and literary tradition, has himself represented on a memorial stele very much within that tradition, with an inscription in Aramaic rather than Luwian. This includes provision for sacrifice to several gods, among them one certainly Luwian deity (kbbw, Kubaba, a goddess not found elsewhere in the Sam’alite pantheon) and one probable (hdd krmn, Hadad of the Vineyards = Luwian Tarhunzas tuwarsasis). The list terminates with a similar offering to himself (lnbšy, “to my soul”), expressed as: wybl lnbšy zy bnṣb zn (Pardee: “and a ram for my ‘soul’ that (will be) in this stele”).

Also a future offering:

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wyhrg bnbšy (Pardee: “He is also to perform the slaughter (prescribed above) in (proximity to) my soul”).

Following my discussion of the Luwian concept of atri-, I suggest that KTMW chose nbš, “soul”, to translate the Luwian word in context. I further argued that atri- on monuments may refer to the representation of the deceased, whether we translate “soul” (as depicted), or allow the semantic passage of “soul” to “likeness, image”. Thus nbšy on KTMW monument refers to the representation of him on the front of the stele. As for the remarkable concept proposed by Pardee, and enthusiastically adopted by the excavators and other commentators, of the soul being “in this stele”, i.e., residing/surviving in it, I would consider a much more prosaic interpretation to be likelier. I thus propose to translate: “a ram to my ‘soul’ (likeness), which (is) on this stele” “He is also to perform the slaughter on my ‘soul’ (likeness)”, i.e., pour the blood over the image on the stele.

This interpretation may be supported by a phrase from another Aramaic inscription, SEFIRE IC, 17: mly spr’ zy bnṣb’ znh “the words of the inscription which (are) on this stele.”

Few I suppose would argue that the words were in the stele. While it seems a pity to replace a striking image with a commonplace sense, the latter must surely seem more probable.

References Bonatz, D. 2000 Das syro-hethitische Grabdenkmal: Untersuchungen zur Enstehung einer neuen Bildgattung in der Eisenzeit im nordsyrisch-südanatolischen Raum. Mainz: von Zabern. Dinçol, A., Dinçol, B., Hawkins, J. D., and Peker, H. 2014 A New Hieroglyphic Luwian Inscription from Hatay. Anatolica 40: 61–70. Dinçol, A., Dinçol, B., Öztan, A. Forthcoming  Two New Inscribed Storm-God Stelae from Arsuz (İskenderun). Conference paper in Across the Border. Koç University, Istanbul, June 2010. Hawkins, J. D. 1980 Late Hittite Funerary Monuments. Pp. 213–55 in Death in Mesopotamia. CRRAI XXVI; Mesopotamia 8. Edited by B. Alster. Copenhagen. 1989 More Late Hittite Funerary Monuments. Pp. 189–197 in Anatolia and the Ancient Near East. Studies in Honor of Tahsin Özgüç. Edited by K. Emre et al. Ankara. Hout, T. van den 2002 Self, Soul and Portrait in Hieroglyphic Luwian. Pp. 171–86 in Silva Anatolica. Edited by P. Taracha. Fs Popko. Warsaw, Agade. Melchert, H. C. 2010a Spelling of initial /a-/ in Hieroglyhic Luwian. Pp. 147–58 in Luwian and Hittite Studies. Edited by I. Singer. Fs. J. D. Hawkins. Tel Aviv. 2010b Remarks on the Kuttamuwa inscription. Kubaba 1: 4–11. Pardee, D. 2009 A New Aramaic Inscription from Zincirli. BASOR 356: 51–71.

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Schloen, J. D., and Fink, A. S. 2009 New Excavations at Zincirli Höyük in Turkey (Ancient Sam’al) and the Discovery of an Inscribed Mortuary Stele. BASOR 356: 1–13. Yakubovich, I. S. 2002 Nugae Luvicae. Pp.  194–97 in Anatolian Languages. Edited by V. Shevoroshkin and P. Sidwell. Canberra. 2010 Sociolinguistics of the Luvian language. Leiden/Boston: Brill.

Myth and Ritual through Tradition and Innovation Dina Katz Leiden

1.  Introduction and Theoretical Background Ethnologists have studied the relationship between myth and ritual for decades. The main queries have been related to the function of myths and rituals, to a possible linkage, and to which has primacy, myth or ritual. The issue of primacy is related to the function. The view that myths had primacy and rituals re-enacted myths, is rooted in the view that man, as an intellectual being, is seeking meanings. But if man does not primarily search for a meaning, but for survival, then rituals would come first and myths could be their later explanation. The various opinions about the meaning of myth have resulted in different theories on this issue. 1 Intellectual drive was advocated by the 19th-century anthropologist Edward Tylor who claimed that people created their myths through rationally governed observations, in search of answers to inexplicable phenomena, and rituals derived from myths. This view raised much opposition, but the idea of an intellectual reason was revived in the twentieth century by Mary Douglas and Claude Lévi-Strauss. Douglas argues that primitive religion is as spiritual as modern religion and that the believers were searching for meaning. Rituals aimed to bring order to life not just to manipulate nature. Thus, for instance, fertility rituals demarcate the change of seasons, even if man hoped of course for a good crop. 2 Lévi-Strauss shares with Tylor the trust in man’s intelligence and aspiration to understand the world in which he lived. But rather than seeking the meaning of a myth at the surface of the plot, as Tylor does, Lévi-Strauss locates it in the structure; man thinks in binary oppositions and the myth presents a model that resolves these contradictions dialectically, or at least, allows man to understand his world (classic opposition: nature vs. culture or raw vs. cooked). 3 The major difference between Lévi-Strauss and Tylor Author’s note:  Abbreviations according to: http://cdli.ucla.edu/wiki/doku.php/abbreviations_for_assyriology. 1.  Comprehensive systematic presentation of the theories on the relationship between myth and ritual are: Segal 1998 and Meletinsky 1998: 19–125. For mainly rituals see Bell 1992. 2.  Douglas 2002: 72–90, and 112–113 on the search for meaning in a theistic world. 3.  A Mesopotamian myth that nicely demonstrates the binary oppositions of Lévi-Strauss is Atrahasīs. The plot unites two opposing stories, and develops through a sequence of binary oppositions with noise as an intermediary element that leads to a solution in both stories. The first binary opposition is already stated in the incipit of the composition: inūma ilū awīlum, god vs. man, an opposition that is common to both stories, frames them together, and thus proclaims the opposing players in the unified plots.

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is about the ritual. Lévi Strauss argues that ritual has the same function as myth, that it is a different expression of identical elements. Myth and ritual replicate each other, the myth exists on the conceptual level and ritual on the level of action. 4 The opposite view, that myth originated in ritual, is associated with the reliance of ritual on magic. The most famous representative of this view is Frazer. He was influenced by W. Robertson Smith who argued that primitive religion was more practice (performing cult) than a belief, and that myth is a narrative that explains the ritual after the original meaning was forgotten. Frazer focused on agrarian myths and rituals, related to the seasonal cycle and the young dying gods. The local color of the mythological narratives about the disappearing gods, their different names and characteristics, may indeed suggest that their mythologies developed from local ritual performances and, therefore, reveal changes while the rituals remain stable. His view had a flaw in that the performance of a ritual implies some knowledge about the nature of its objective, in order to make it meaningful. A critical study of his publications reveals that Frazer was inconsistent and self-contradictory in his view on myth and ritual, and undecided between his and Tylor’s intellectualist approach. 5 Nevertheless, Frazer had a great deal of influence on academics at the beginning of the 20th century. The best known is, perhaps, Jane Harrison. She argued that ritual was intended to control the forces of nature, however, it does not manipulate nature but the gods, who then manipulate nature. It works according to the law of similarity in magic, which suggests that man played the role of god.  6 Her theory bypasses the need of ritual to depend on a related specific myth, because it operates on the most general basis of a theistic world view, that gods control nature. As for myth, she argues that it was generated together with the ritual, and originally it was its script, 7 presumably as a performative utterance. Myth became etiological when the ritual was not effective. Then man looked to mythology for a reason to perform it. 8 Thus, Harrison distinguished two phases in the development of mythology: an early original belief that was the script of a ritual and its legitimation, and a later mythological narrative. Thereby she defined myth more accurately. However, an early “script” and ritual react to an actual phenomenon, which they transform into a mythological reality, and therefore, this “script” is none other than a prototype of myth, not yet fully developed into a narrative. Perhaps the Sumerian observation and offerings to the phases of the moon are the remains of such an early myth that was revived by the Ur III kings, whose patron deity was the moon god Nanna. 9 No related mythological background has survived, at least to date, nor whether or not the ritual was effective. 4.  Lévi-Strauss 1963: 232. Therefore, he wonders why all myth are not linked to a ritual and vice versa, as well as what the usefulness is of the replication myth–ritual. Then we should ask whether there was indeed a replication, and explain why there is no overlap. 5.  Ackerman 1975: 115–134. Douglas 2002 expresses severe criticism of perhaps every aspect of Frazer’s work. 6.  It seems to me that this notion echoes from incantations that include a dialogue between Asalluhi and Enki, or Pre-Sargonic incantations from Fara which state that it is an incantation of Ningirima, “the great mašmaš of the gods” (Krebernik 1984:164). 7.  Harrison 1927: 327–31, especially p. 328. 8.  Ibid. p. 16. 9.  Perhaps. Several examples: é-u4-sakar: Pre-Sargonic Lagaš Nik. 1, 29 rev. iii:6; 149 rev. i:9; Ur III: èš-èš u4-sakar-šè, JCS 38(1986), 62, 26 r. 3; níg-dab5 u4-sakar MVN 17, 105:8; CT 10, 20 ob. v:12; 1 máš sískur u4-sakar MVN 18, 62:8; níg-dab u4-nú-a-ka BCT 1, 100 rev. 5; DoCu 259:8; MVN 3, 302:6.

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An alternative approach is that of the functionalists. They look for the purpose of myths and rituals in society, rather than for primacy and a genetic link between them. Emile Durkheim argued that mythology is the whole set of a group’s beliefs. Rituals enact myths and thereby vitalize beliefs, they “revive the most essential elements of the collective consciousness.” Thus, myth and ritual secure the bond between the members of a community. The real purpose is moral while belief in the magical power of a ritual (such as influence on fertility) is only complementary. 10 When the original meaning of a ritual is forgotten, a myth is composed to explain it. Also Radcliffe-Brown assigns a social function to myth and ritual: to reinforce the social texture. Ritual and myth have the same function. They serve to express ideas essential to the existence of society and its relationship to the world of nature, and transmit them to future generations. In that way, myth and ritual maintain social solidarity. 11 Malinowski argued that myth and ritual are a means to cope with the world, rather than intellectual reflections on it. Both have social and psychological functions in society: preserving traditional and cultural continuity by reinforcing customs, defining codes of behavior, justifying the social order and establishing social solidarity. However, myth is more important to society, and it can exist without a ritual, while ritual depends on belief. 12 Eliade argues that traditional societies held the belief that gods or superhuman heroes established all religious acts. These were archetypes that served mankind as a model for a meaningful life. “The gesture acquires meaning, reality solely to the extent to which it repeats primordial act.” 13 Myths describe acts of hierophany that modeled the world, and every ritual has such a divine model. Re-experiencing the mythic past confronts the current crisis and remedies the problems of the present. Thus, myth and ritual have a restorative function in society. Eliade asserts that the mythological narratives are late formulations of an archaic content. It seems that the search for a theoretical model that would answer these questions died out during the last half of the twentieth century. Currently, researchers deal with the application of these theories to their sources, trying to refine their understanding of myths, rituals and religion in general. 14 Perhaps the time is now ripe to search for the attitude of the Mesopotamian sources toward the relationships between myth and ritual as well, and whether and to what extent ethnological theories can contribute to a better understanding of the material.

2.  The Case of Mesopotamia Whether a ritual aims to activate superhuman powers for whatever purpose or reason, to demarcate an event or phenomenon, or to demonstrate devotion to a deity, even with no expectation of reward, it requires belief in the existence of a recipient that is capable of receiving the act. Since the world view of the ancient Mesopotamia is theistic, the ritually receptive entity is mythological, whether it is a divinity or a natural phenomenon. Thus, in principle, myth seems to have primacy. 10.  Durkheim 2001: 87 and 279–80. 11.  Radcliffe-Brown 1922: 404–405. 12.  Malinowski 1926. 13.  Eliade 1955: 5 et passim. 14.  For example, Mills 2002, chapter I, Mythic Patterns.

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In ritual, one usually expects a physical act of sorts. Many rituals that have come down to us in writing are embedded in, or implied from an incantation. Those are rituals as well, operating vocally, as performative utterances. They conjure divine and superhuman powers, transferring and transforming the actual event into a cosmic reality, and therefore they can be considered the mythological facet of the ritual. 15 An existing ritual could induce the creation of a myth if its original objective had been antiquated or forgotten. The mythological narratives that we know from Mesopotamia are late. We cannot be certain whether a given text is a later literary elaboration of an earlier belief, a late composition modeled according to a ritual, an independent myth that was not linked with a performance, 16 or a ritual for which a specific mythical explanation is not known. 17 Also, the written text of the rituals may have received a literary form, and consequently deviated from the performed version. In addition, it is not certain that the canonical series of incantations and rituals were used as such in practice, and at the same time no written form has survived of some incantations, which are known by name from information about performance. 18 Therefore, the relationship between myth and ritual is still relevant, particularly when the link between them is elusive.

2.1.  The Birth Brick and the Narrative of Atrahasīs A case in point is the instruction given in Atrahasīs I: 257–295 for a ritual with a birth brick in the house of the woman who gave birth. 19 After Nintu created the seven couples that formulate the model of mankind, there is a bi-partite birth ritual. 20 The first is performed just before the delivery:

15.  In terms of time, the relocation of an event into the eternal cosmic mythological reality transfers the ritual into the zone of the eternal. 16.  This is a tricky issue because myths do not readily expose their raison d’être, so we might not be able to identify the related ritual. Narratives about recurring phenomena are ritualistic due to the repetitive occurrences. But an event such as the creation of the world is a one-off occurrence, so theoretically it is an independent myth. Only due to Neo-Assyrian sources do we know that enūma eliš was part of the new year celebration, thus ritualized. If this is true for Sumerian accounts of the creation, I don’t know. Jacobsen 1975: 72–77 referred to Neo-Assyrian sources as evidence for the performance of Ninurta myths, as a battle drama. But what do we really know about Lugal-e which includes a ritual (l. 20), or An-gim (l. 186). Were these texts a script? 17.  Anthropologists also acknowledge the independent existence of ritual. But it seems to me rather difficult to identify such rituals in a theistic culture. Rituals may be perpetuated, seemingly independent of the contemporary mythological background, but they must have originated in a mythological prototype. Yet, it is also possible that people would perpetuate a ritual by force of tradition, as a token of their affiliation to society, not bothered by its origins (more or less like Malinowski). 18.  LKA 79: 16 and 27: “This is the hand of god” and “The big brother is his brother” resp. Both incantations are recited in the ritual ana pūhi amēli ana Ereškigal. LKA 80 is a short and slightly different version of the same incantation. 19.  Complemented by the parallel K 3399 + 3934 iii: 5–20 ms. S. I follow the standard edition: Lambert and Millard 1969, and Shehata 2001. 20.  The creation of seven couples by midwives (ll. 251–9) did not involve a delivery and, therefore, the use of a brick is artificial. The abrupt shift from the creation of man (l. 250), to the creation of the seven couples and the childbirth seems like an interpolation. It seems to me, however, that the creation of the couple was inspired by the contest between Enki and Ninmah in the second part of the text. The difference between the created originates in the different purposes of the texts. Thus, the whole Sumerian composition was revised to meet the objective of Atrahasīs.

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In the house of the pregnant woman in confinement a brick shall be placed for seven days, that Belet-ili, the wise Mami shall be honored. The midwife shall rejoice in the house of the woman in confinement. And when the woman gives birth, the mother of the baby shall isolate herself. Tablet I: ms. S: 15–19 (Lambert and Millard 1969: 62)

Then, during and after the delivery: She girdled her (the woman’s) loin and uttered blessing. She drew (a pattern) in meal and placed the brick, (saying:) “I have created, my hands have made it.” Let the midwife rejoice in the house of the woman in confinement. Whenever the child-bearing woman gives birth, and the mother of the baby isolates 21 herself, let the brick be placed for nine days, that Nintu, the birth goddess may be honored. Tablet I: 286–296

This bi-partite ritual involves a birth brick, a prop that was used in actual birth in Mesopotamia and other cultures. 22 Reiterations of some lines indicate that it is a literary ritual. Therefore, we cannot be sure whether this is the original procedure or a deviation, and not even that the birth ritual was bi-partite. Moreover, since the actual day of labor cannot be predicted accurately, when would the midwife begin to count the seven days? Assuming that the author worked in an existing independent ritual, 23 the narrative of Atrahasīs is a later etiology. It explains the use of a birth brick, transfers the birth to a cosmic reality and dates it to primordial times, when mankind was created. Still, an independent or literary ritual must also be rooted in a belief. The essence of the ritual, placing the brick, lends itself to more than one possible mythological background. The nine days surely symbolize the human pregnancy, and the ritual could be, as the myth instructs, in honor of the mother goddess Nintu commemorating human procreation. Incantations against the pains and dangers of childbirth indicate that superhuman mythological powers can interfere with the delivery. 24 Equally possible, therefore, is that the brick was placed in gratitude for the normal, healthy completion of the pregnancy. A third possibility emerges from the entry “placing the brick of Ninmah”, in a hemerology for absolving curses. It seems like a monthly ritual to instill a protective power in a divine birth brick. 25 Considering the high death rate of babies, also attributed to the mythological demon Lamaštu, the nine-day ritual could have been aimed at protecting the health of the mother and the baby during the first days after the delivery. 26 The seven-day pre-birth ritual could be for protective purposes as well. But the typological unit ‘seven’ together with the above pointed literary observations cast doubts on its existence in reality.

21.  urrû A, CAD U-W, 245. 22.  Stol 2000: 118–122 cites all the attestations of the brick in the Mesopotamian literature as well as in other cultures. 23.  Lambert 1968: 105. 24.  van Dijk 1975: 52–79, Veldhuis 1991, Cunningham 1997: 69–75. SAA 3, 15, a poem in memory of a woman who died in labor. 25.  Nougayrol 1947: 333:9′, Wiseman 1969: 179:85′. Stol 2000: 11. 26.  Douglas 2002: 88–9 quotes a passage from Lévi Strauss 1963 on the way the Shaman relieves difficult childbirth (she used the French edition from 1958). It seems similar to a performance of a Mesopotamian birth incantation.

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In theory, Atrahasīs is a later myth that offers an etiology for a birth ritual. But in fact, the mythological scope of the narrative is much wider than this theme. Therefore, the origin of the birth ritual cannot be in its purpose. Thematically and structurally the creation of couples and the childbirth prepare the setting, and anticipate the increase of the human population that caused the catastrophic flood. Their essence is phrased in l. 14 “Mami designed the model of mankind.” Her model did not include death! Thus, rather than a myth in the service of a ritual, these rituals serve the myth. They link two originally unconnected myths: the tradition about the creation of man with the flood story. After the flood, Nintu’s model was corrected to the satisfaction of all concerned. As for the rituals, the entry in the hemerology and the birth incantations suggest that it was based on an actual ritual. The creation of seven couples has a sense of a mythological tradition, which could have been re-enacted. 27 In general, rituals against afflictions that were caused by mythological powers like demons and appearing ghosts, do not need an explanation. So, while every ritual evolves from a belief in a mythological power, not every ritual needs an elaborated explanatory mythological narrative. This is the answer to Lévi-Strauss’s question why there is no entire overlap of myth and ritual. 28

3.  The Tradition of Inana’s Journey to the Netherworld A mythological tradition that involves rituals, that was subject to innovations during the transmission, and also illustrates the Mesopotamian situation, is the tradition of Inana’s journey to the netherworld and its mythological and ritual derivatives.

3.1.  The Journeys of Inana and Ištar: Tradition and Innovation A detailed comparison of the Sumerian text of Inana’s Descent with the Akkadian text of Ištar’s Descent shows that a similar sequence of events concerning the same or rather, parallel goddesses, actually addressed different issues. The omissions of long but functional repetitious passages shorten the text of Ištar’s Descent, but also distance it from the purpose of the Sumerian goddess Inana’s pursuit. The central issue of the Akkadian narrative can be defined by the additional material, elements which are absent from the Sumerian story of Inana: the meaning of death, fertility, the characterization of the netherworld, and a portrait of its queen. These additions suggest a different interest and intention for the Akkadian text. It seems that whereas the Sumerian narrative is focused on the journey of the goddess, the Akkadian text is about her destination, the netherworld and the reality of death. The evolution of the tradition of Inana’s Descent into Ištar’s Descent can demonstrate the situation of the Ancient Mesopotamian sources in relation to the old dilemma: what is the relation between myth and ritual, and in case of a genetic link, 27.  A few common elements suggest that the creation of seven couples is based on the second part of Enki and Ninmah. The Sumerian contest between Enki and Ninmah was turned in Atrahasīs into a useful co-operation between them. Therefore we may conclude that Atrahasīs incorporates the whole text of Enki and Ninmah revised and modified. 28.  Lévi-Strauss 1963: 232.

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which generated what. This is also the connection to the topic of this Rencontre: Tradition and Innovation.

3.2.  Inana’s Journey: The Meaning of Her Death and Rescue by Enki The text of Inana’s Descent conjoins two mythological stories: the one is the story of Inana’s death and revival through Enki’s intervention, and the second is the story of Dumuzi’s capture and death, which is abundantly attested independently. The episode that describes the Anuna appearing unexpectedly, demanding a substitute for Ereškigal and dispatching the Galla to execute their demand, connects the two stories in a causal relationship. This linkage in itself is a dramatic innovation of the tradition of each story. 29 The classicist Charles Penglase pointed out that Inana’s Descent keeps to the pattern of journeys to gain power. 30 According to this pattern, after an initial defeat the hero achieves the purpose of his journey. This pattern is easily recognizable, for instance, in the traditions of Ninurta, Lugal-e and bin šar dadmē, and of Marduk in enūma eliš. Penglase applied this pattern to the Old Babylonian version of Inana’s Descent that links the journey of Inana with the death of Dumuzi. More revealing, however, is its application to the particular story of Inana, since it binds together into a coherent whole her death and resurrection with Enki’s help. 31 Inana’s instructions to Ninšubur on her way to the netherworld are, actually, the preparation for her rescue. Inana anticipated her death and asserts that Enki would revive her. This prediction was, indeed, fulfilled to the letter. “Father Enki, the lord of great wisdom knows the life-giving plant and the lifegiving water. He is the one who will restore me to life.” Inana’s Descent: 65–67 Due to Enki’s instructions, Inana comes out of the netherworld. Inana’s Descent: 284

Yet, according to the conjoined Old Babylonian version, Inana could leave the netherworld on condition that she will provide a substitute for herself. However, a release due to the magic power of Enki or in exchange for a substitute are mutually exclusive. Therefore, the statement that Inana comes out of the netherworld due to Enki’s trick, must have been the end of an originally independent mythological tradition about Inana. I suggest to apply Penglase’s pattern of journeys to gain power to this independent story. There is no doubt that Inana went to the netherworld to achieve power. Therefore, Penglase’s pattern would mean that when Inana was rescued by Enki she achieved her purpose and gained the power that she desired. The question is what did she aspire to achieve? The common view is that she wanted to depose Ereškigal and rule the netherworld in addition to heaven. This view is the natural conclusion from her attack on Ereškigal and the reactions of Enlil and Nana. But since it lead directly to her death and to Enki’s intervention, which she herself initiated at the 29.  A detailed analysis in Katz 2003: 265–287. 30.  Penglase 1994: 20. 31.  Enki’s divine powers are decisive, and therefore also bringing him into the plot is decisive. As additional value, his required involvement hints at the uselessness of Inana’s divine powers (her mes) in the coming situation.

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outset, it appears that the attack serves to fulfill her plan. In other words, Inana’s attack is the literary means to involve Enki in the plot, and to proceed with her scheme as planned. 32 In analogy to the pattern of Penglase, her death was the initial defeat. And since her original plan was to call upon Enki for rescue (ll. 65–67), then strange as it may seem, Inana’s purpose was to make an exit from the netherworld possible. The logic of this purpose is, that as an astral body, which was believed to set in and rise out of the netherworld, the ability to return from the netherworld is vital to Inana and also to the cosmic order.  33 Taken as a myth that explains the cycle of Venus, I would suggest, that it is not about control, but about the ability and the freedom to travel around the world, through the netherworld in addition to heaven. It tells how Inana created the procedure which would enable her to go in and out of the world of death. In hindsight, the repeated assertion by Bidu, Enlil, Sin, and the Anuna that there is no return, actually emphasized the magnitude of her achievement. 34 The rhetorical question, “Who, having reached that place, could then expect to come up?” predicts her victory for which we already know the answer: Inana would! She anticipated her death, made a plan to counter it, and was successful. Inana succeeded in breaking the one significant law of the netherworld, and came out alive. Ereškigal gave her body to the Kurgara and the Galatur who revived her. That the Kurgara was part of her cultic entourage symbolizes the perpetuity of the rescue operation.

3.3.  From Myth to Ritual: Udug-hul Forerunner ll. 298–357  35 The importance of Enki’s success in bringing Inana back to life has wider implications than the complete cycle of the planet Venus. According to the principle of similarity in magic, the revival of Inana implies that provided that Enki intervenes, anyone could return to life. UHF: 298–357 is an Old Babylonian healing incantation of Enki, clearly based on the tradition of Inana’s Descent and even begins with the same phrases. The ritual is performed in a shrine, perhaps in a cemetery where Ereškigal may have had a chapel. It begins with a paraphrase of the first lines of Inana’s Descent stating that Enki goes to the netherworld. After the diagnosis he makes offerings to Nin-pirig, Nin-maš, Ninhursaĝa, Ereškigal, and then conjures 32.  In terms of Mesopotamian funerary customs, Inana was dressed for her journey like any dead individual was prepared for a journey to the netherworld. The dead were buried dressed properly, together with their personal belongings, and the markers of their identity in Afterlife. Since this was the custom, it explains why Inana had to be surprised when she was stripped of her attire. 33.  The instruction to wait for 3 days reminds me of the funerals of Šu-Suen and Geme-Lama, who were lying in state for 3 days. Since, however, when Venus disappears in the west during the winter, the planet remains invisible for three days, it is more likely that actual astronomical data was used as background for the narrative. Dumuzi, who was celebrating during these 3 days, ignoring the duty of family members to mourn, a strict social obligation, was therefore punished. Why did Inana have to die while seemingly the moon and the sun disappeared into the netherworld but rise again without much ado? A famous Akkadian seal from Ur, featuring Nana-Suen and Šamaš paying a visit to Enki in the Apsu, suggests an answer. It shows that their descent was not into the netherworld (UE II, pl. 215, no. 364). The Apsu is subterranean too, but a source of life. My view is that their activities concerning judgment of the “dead” do not need to take place inside the netherworld but rather at its gates, when it is still possible to prevent the sick man from entering, or to make sure that the buried dead unites with its ancestors. 34.  Ll. 83–4, 194, 208, 287 resp. 35.  Geller 1985: 36–40 (henceforth UHF).

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all possible sorts of dangerous spirits who could have caused the problem. Subsequently, Ereškigal commands the patient be cleansed and handed over to Šamaš who would deliver him to his personal god: The command of Ereškigal: “as for the man, son of his (personal) god After you purged him, cleansed him and purified him, Washed him like a pot, rubbed him like a bowl of ghee, After you handed him to Šamaš, the foremost of the gods, Šamaš, the foremost of the gods may return him to the hand of his god.” UHF: 352–357

At the end of the ritual Ereškigal releases the patient unconditionally. There is no demand for a substitute. The man is released from death due to Enki’s intervention, as was Inana, whom Ereškigal handed over to the Galatur and the Kurgara. 36 The beginning and the end of the incantation point to a genetic relationship with the story of Inana’s departure from the netherworld due to Enki’s intervention. 37 The release of the patient unconditionally signifies that the incantation predates the demand for a substitute. Thereby it also supports the view that Inana’s journey was originally independent from the myth of Dumuzi’s death. The similar phrasing suggests that the incantation was inspired by an elaborated version of this independent Inana myth, rather than depending on an early “prototype”, the ‘script’ of Jane Harrison’s theory. Since the demand for a substitute links in causal relations the independent story of Inana’s death and revival with the story of Dumuzi’s death, the conjoined Old Babylonian version must be later than both the myth of Inana’s journey and the Udug-hul incantation. At least theoretically, the prototype of the literary, elaborated Inana’s story could have been an ancient belief that the planet Venus sets into the netherworld and dies there, followed by ritual that aimed to bring the planet back. 38

3.4.  The Ritual: Substitute of Man for Ereškigal The famous Old Babylonian version of Inana’s Descent links Inana’s Journey with the myth about the death of Dumuzi in a causal relationship.  The linkage represents a dramatic innovation of the mythological traditions of both Inana and Dumuzi. According to this version, Inana was allowed to leave on condition that she would send a substitute, although earlier Ereškigal gave her unconditionally. In the 36.  When dealing with the efficacy of magic we must keep in mind that the day of death, šimtu, is fixed at birth and that Ereškigal or the scribe of the netherworld already holds a list of ‘the dead of the day’ (cf. UHF: 284). When the day of a patient arrives, he is as good as dead, even if he has not yet closed his eyes. Only Enki can save him, as in this incantation. Needless to say, the patient is actually just about to move to the netherworld, but is not yet completely dead. 37.  As material for consideration, perhaps GEN: 14–26, the description of Enki’s journey towards the KUR, is the introduction to another healing incantation with a similar conceptual background. 38.  In her astral image Inana is identified as Ninsiana (dnin-si4-an-na). Her cult is well attested in the Ur III administrative documents. She had temples in Girsu and Garšana where she received regular offerings. However, none of the attestations suggests the performance of such a ritual (which is not related to Inana’s journeys to visit temples in Eridu, Ur or Nippur). An enigmatic Old Babylonian letter, AbB 12, 160, is about offering to Ninsiana on the roof in expectation of a sign. The short letter does not volunteer the details, and there is no date. But the expectation, lū ittû suggests a sort of appeal to the planet, as in divination, presumably when Venus is visible. This unique letter suggests that there was more to the cult of Ninsiana than the material that reached us. It is not impossible that her setting and rising were celebrated as popular religion, and therefore not documented.

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conjoined version, Dumuzi appears as the victim of Inana, his beloved wife, rather than of evil beings, as in Dumuzi’s Dream or Inana and Bilulu. There can be several good reasons for the revision of the plot. The most obvious is perhaps a need to explain the undeserved death of Dumuzi. 39 A much less obvious but no less attractive explanation is that the principle of a substitute allows two conflicting cosmic laws to co-exist harmoniously: the planet Venus is ever-rising, leaving the netherworld in accordance with the cosmic order, while the law of “no return”, which Inana constantly breaks seems to remain intact, due to the arrival of a substitute as compensation for Ereškigal. Also the principle of a substitute was used in healing rituals. pūhi amēli ana Ereškigal is known from first millennium detailed instructions, and performances at the Neo-Assyrian court. 40 The plots of Inana’s Descent and Enlil and Ninlil date this principle to the Old Babylonian period. So it is quite possible that substitutes were used in rituals already then, but we have no record for it. 41 Inana’s Descent sets the principle of a substitute for the netherworld in a cosmicmythological reality. It provides an explanation for its use, and validates its power. 42 With the sanction of this mythological background, the use of a substitute could save lives. Theoreticians would wonder which was the first, the ritual with a substitute or the conjoined myth of Inana’s Descent? The idea of a substitute is rather sensible, but we can only speculate on how or when it came about. In other words, what was first, the ritual or the linkage of the two myths? Was the Old Babylonian version of Inana’s Descent a late explanation for an existing healing ritual whose original belief had been forgotten? Or was the principle of a substitute invented as a means to link Inana’s myth with Dumuzi’s, in order to explain his death? Both options are applicable: the two myths could be united by means of an existing ritual which originated in another belief or mythological prototype. Alternatively, the idea of a substitute could have been borrowed from the administration of a workforce, which sometimes required the replacement of workers. In that case, due to its use in Inana’s Descent, the principle received a mythological and ritual application. That Inana’s Descent is the first attestation of the seasonal reappearance of Dumuzi, and the process of merging local young dying gods with Dumuzi suggest a third possibility, that the use of a substitute originated in the cult of another young dying god, and was attributed to Dumuzi at the turn of the second millennium. At that time Dumuzi became the only young dying god, and the various local manifestations assumed other divine properties. 43

39.  Dumuzi’s Dream presents Dumuzi as an innocent victim, and Inana is not even mentioned in that story, which was probably the source of Dumuzi’s story in Inana’s descent. 40.  LKA 79 and 80, and reports of performances in the Assyrian court SAA 10, 89 r. 5; 193: 14 and 352:5–15. See also note 18. 41.  The use of figurines as substitutes in magic is based on the same principle. 42.  Enlil and Ninlil differs from Inana’s Descent in that the plot only demonstrates the principle, without any explanation. Therefore, it may be an application of the principle after it was already established in Inana’s Descent. 43.  This possibility asks for further contemplation of the divine properties of local young gods, but it is beyond the scope of this paper.

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4.  From Inana’s Journey to Ištar’s Descent After the Old Babylonian period the tradition emerged again in a small, rather enigmatic Middle Assyrian fragment, and then in two Neo-Assyrian copies, all transmitted in Akkadian. The rendition of some episodes is close to the Sumerian text, at times as translation, at times as a dialogue between the two texts. It suggests that the author of Ištar’s Descent was familiar with Inana’s Descent. At the same time, the Akkadian text has been considerably revised. Firstly, it narrates only the journey of the goddess, like the independent story of Inana and, secondly, the emphasis has shifted from the goddess to the netherworld. Her journey is used to describe the nature of the kingdom of death and its queen. It skips the story of Dumuzi’s capture and death, and instead describes his mourning ritual, which was not included in the Sumerian narrative. In the absence of sources, it is unknown where and how the tradition was transmitted until the Neo-Assyrian period. 44 The Middle Assyrian text may have been the point when the Sumerian Old Babylonian version of Inana’s Descent was converted into the Akkadian narrative and transmitted to the first millennium. An additional issue is the purpose of the revision: why does it center on death and fertility, and why was the account of Dumuzi’s capture and death replaced with his mourning ritual? The cult of Dumuzi was probably observed continuously as popular religion since the Old Babylonian period. Considering the convincing evidence for the official cult of Dumuzi during the Neo-Assyrian period, it is very tempting to connect the revised tradition with it. Be that as it may, the fact is that the tradition of the goddess’s journey survived and came down to us as a mythological narrative integrated with Dumuzi’s funerary ritual.

4.1.  Ištar’s Departure and Dumuzi’s Funerary Ritual The text ends with instructions for the funerary ritual of Dumuzi, and a statement about the cult of Dumuzi as a memorial for all souls concludes the composition (ll. 136–138). The Sumerian tradition ends differently. After Ereškigal instructed Namtar about the departure of Ištar, she tells him how to treat Dumuzi’s body and arrange for mourners: As for the love of her youth, Bath him with pure water, anoint him with good oil. Dress him with red garment, 45 let a lapis lazuli flute play, Let the šamhatu women calm his mood. 46 Ištar’s Descent:128–130

The description of his sister’s mourning gestures (ll. 131–135) ends the funerary ritual.

44.  References to the Neo-Assyrian evidence for the official cult of Dumuzi SAA 10, 19 and SAA 3, 38 rev. 2–8. M. Cohen 2011: 258–65 offers a new interpretation for this ritual. The bilingual lamentation Edina usaĝa suggests that the tradition of the mourning was kept. 45.  Red garment-signs of blood? compare SAA 3, 34: 15 (Marduk’s ordeal). 46. [míša]m-ha-te li-na-‘a-a kab-ta-a[s-su]. I assume that li-na-‘a-a is a form of anāhu–to quiet the heart. Calming the heart of the deceased is one of the purposes of mourning, particularly pre-burial mourning. See Death of Gilgameš ETCSL 1.8.1.3 F: 151–153: “do not go to the Netherworld with the heart knotted (with anger), may it loosen before Šamaš, may it untie like a palm-fibre, peeled like a garlic.”

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The instructions follow the traditional procedure that was customary in Mesopotamia for at least one thousand years. Dumuzi’s funerary ritual replaced the story of Dumuzi’s capture and death. His cult may have been the last vivid remains of his myth. Considering the antiquity and possible continuity of Dumuzi’s cult, it seems to me that the ritual and the narrative were combined during the first revision of the older Sumerian tradition. The inclusion of the ritual is a new development in the tradition of the goddess’s journey to the netherworld. Inana’s descent ends with the verdict that Dumuzi would die, interchanging with his sister. The expected next phase, the funerary ritual, was not included in the Sumerian text. Therefore, the addition of funerary ritual should be attributed to the Akkadian edition. The date of this development cannot be established. Ereškigal’s instructions about the preparation of Dumuzi’s body are a natural continuation of her preceding instructions, for the preparations for Ištar’s departure. The version from Assur indeed has it as one literary unit, which makes good sense. But the version from Ninveh divided Ereškigal’s instructions in two, inserting Ištar’s departure through the seven gates before the instructions about the preparation of Dumuzi. The departure of Ištar through the threshold decorated with Ajartu shells, symbolizes her passage from death to life, while regaining her sexuality and femininity. It is the bipolar opposition of Dumuzi’s ritual which signifies his own departure but in the opposite direction, from life to the kingdom of death. Thus, also the split makes sense. 47

4.2.  Ištar Departs from the Netherworld The detailed execution of Ereškigal’s instructions, especially the full description of Ištar’s departure through each gate, is exclusive to the Akkadian narrative. Yet, it nicely complements another exclusively Akkadian account, namely the consequences of Ištar’s death (ll. 76–90). Now, during her departure, Ištar gradually repossesses her attire, including the aban alādi, birth stone, a fertility symbol which Inana did not have. 48 As for Ištar, repossessing her symbols, particularly the birth stone is rather significant. By referring to her fertility, the editor transformed a myth about an astral body that had to break out of the netherworld in order to reappear in heaven, into a myth about fertility and seasonal cycle. The emphasis on the fertility aspect makes the divine properties of Ištar similar to the properties of Dumuzi, and her myth seems to be of the same type as his, like two fertility gods replacing one another.

4.3.  Which Has Primacy? Evidently, the Akkadian narrative is not a translation but a revision of the Sumerian tradition, a revision that transformed the divine properties of the goddess and the mythological background of her descent into the netherworld. Since, however, Ištar still embodied the planet Venus, the reason for the transformation must be with the cult of Dumuzi rather than with hers. The antiquity of his cult and the position of his funerary ritual as the conclusion of the narrative, as its climax, suggest that the narrative was intended to serve the ritual. And what is more 47.  This opposition justifies the split in the instructions of Ereškigal but I do not know if this structural idea was the motivation for splitting the instructions. 48.  And therefore we cannot associate Inana’s death and revival with procreation in nature nor with fertility in general.

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suitable for Dumuzi’s funerary ritual than a display of the netherworld through the journey of his mistress? If this chain of thought is correct, then the ritual has primacy, and the old tradition was revised to serve as a suitable explanation of the existing mourning of Dumuzi. 49 This conclusion seems to correspond with the theory that myths originated in ritual and verified it (Frazer). Notwithstanding, the cult of Dumuzi was already told in the myth about his capture and death, which also became a part of the Old Babylonian tradition of Inana’s Descent. So the mythological tradition of Dumuzi should have been known to the author of Ištar’s Descent. The reason why the story of Dumuzi was neglected is a matter for speculation. But if the tradition was revised in order to explain an existing ritual, then the innovations of the revised tradition should hold the answer. The shift of emphasis to the nature of death and the netherworld foretells the consequences of Dumuzi’s death for himself and for life on earth. When a funeral is the climax of a narrative, these consequences are more relevant than how his death was brought about. Perhaps the account of Dumuzi’s escape, capture and death was therefore omitted.

4.4.  Why Would Such an Old Ritual Still Need a     Mythological Introduction? The alternative approach to the question of myth and ritual puts the emphasis on their social function. It suggests an explanation for the need to add a revised mythological background to the old ritual. In the Neo-Assyrian period, the mourning ritual of Dumuzi was part of the cultic calendars of Nineveh, Assur, Calah and Arbela, 50 which corresponds to the two Neo-Assyrian copies of Ištar’s Descent. It is quite possible that at that time the cult of Dumuzi was renewed or, if continued as a popular cult of women, even re-established as an official cult of the state. The updated tradition with the focus on death and fertility embodies the agricultural season, and makes the cult of Dumuzi the common property of all the peoples of the empire. While it reinforces the custom, it brings the population at large close together, and thereby adds to the social solidarity of the Assyrians. 51

5.  The Conclusion What does the Mesopotamian experience contribute to the old debate on the relationship between myth and ritual? It seems that the principle that myths have primacy is unavoidable. The performance of a ritual depends on belief, whether in 49.  Admittedly, one cannot really say with certainty that the mourning rituals of Dumuzi continued as a popular women’s cult. The last hard evidence for Dumuzi’s cult dates to the Old Babylonian period. However, an existing mourning ritual seems to me the best explanation for the deviation of the story of Ištar’s Descent from that of Inana’s Descent. 50.  SAA 10, 19 (4 cities, the rest of tablet broken); SAA 13, 389; SAA 3, 38: r. 5–6. In the month of Tammuz, 26th–28th taklimtu, wailing and release. 51.  This may be a reason to make it an official cult of the state. The universal value of Dumuzi’s divine properties, like the incarnation of significant agricultural elements, has a binding power in a varied population, like the large and heterogeneous Assyrian empire. In view of the biblical reference to the women mourning the Tammuz in the temple of Jerusalem (Ezekiel 8:14,) perhaps we should consider the possibility that Dumuzi’s cult was re-established in Assyria as one of the ways to bind together the vast and varied population of the empire.

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the power to manipulate the other or to celebrate an occurrence or experience. In the ancient theistic world, rituals operated in conjunction with cosmic powers -this is mythology. The problem is not the principle but our difficulty in identifying the original belief/myth at the bottom of the ritual. The origin of rituals seem obvious when they are embedded in mythological narratives that reached us in a written form. But when a ritual was used for literary purposes, like in Atrahasīs, what seem obvious lends itself to different interpretations. The evolution of the tradition of Inana’s journey to the netherworld illustrates our problem. It seems that the myth of her death and revival generated a healing ritual against evil spirits (UHF). The linkage of this myth with the myth about the death of Dumuzi introduced a change in the mythological background of Dumuzi’s cult. The principle of a substitute, which links Inana’s myth with the myth about the death of Dumuzi, also has a parallel in the form of a ritual. But it is not clear what was first. Either the mythographer made use of an existing ritual for the purpose of Inana’s Descent, the way that the birth brick was used for the purpose of Artahasīs, or the plot of Inana’s Descent generated the concept of the substitution ritual. Eventually, perhaps hundreds of years later, the cult of Dumuzi inspired the re-creation of a myth, Ištar’s Descent. In the Neo-Assyrian period, a revision of the tradition shifted the focus from the goddess to death, eliminated elements that suggested a relationship with an astral body, and thereby a myth emerged which is entirely dedicated to the cult of Dumuzi.

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A Tale of Twin Cities:

Archaeology and the Sumerian King List Petr Charvát Pilsen

“After the Flood had swept over (the land), the kingship has descended from heaven (a second time), Kish became (the seat of) of Kingship.” This is the Sumerian idea of the origin of one of the constant features of human history over the past five millennia or so, namely the state. It has been observed that the author(s) of the Sumerian King List (henceforth SKL, last bibliographical summary Frayne 2008: 6), working some time during the Ur III period, composed their work on the assumption that there were but three seats of legitimate royal power in Sumer, namely Uruk, Ur and Kish, which alternately exercised supreme power over the land. True, foreign princes sometimes broke in to establish their own suzerainty over Sumer, but these short-term interruptions constituted but aberrations from the “orderly” course of events, and government power soon returned to one of the champions of positions hallowed by time (see also Glassner 2005). Let us ask the question how did this tradition take form and emerge. Are there archaeologically observable realities behind this stage in which the frontmen of history, Uruk, Ur and Kish, changed places in their respective turns? In fact there are. It came to me as a surprise to recognize that all three above-named cities, Uruk, Ur and Kish, did, in the earliest stages of their development, constituted settlement agglomerates consisting of two nuclear areas each—in fact, they assumed the form of twin cities. Of Uruk and its binary structure of the precints of Inanna and An it is superfluous to speak (see Finkbeiner 1991, and Frayne 2008: 409–439). But Ur took the same course, having constituted, ever since the Late Uruk age, a city of two temple cores together with—admittedly rather distant—al-Ubaid (see esp. Wright 1969: 32–42 and 77–87). This is the more conspicuous as the Uruk age wittnessed the concentration of the previously flourishing settlement network into the Ur-, Ubaid-, and Eridu enclaves, with Eridu having been abandoned at the end of the Jemdet Nasr period (Wright 1981: 325–326). No less is this true of Kish, composed, since the earliest times, of two settlement foci on Tell Uhaimir and Tell Ingharra (see de Genouillac 1925, Gibson 1972, Moorey 1978 and Frayne 2008: 11–12 and 49–76). Is this a mere coincidence? Hardly. The remaining Sumerian cities displayed most varied settlement forms. The city of Nippur always consisted of one single cult area (Frayne 2008: 349–356, on Nippur’s early settlement structure see Adams 75

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1972: 739), probably like ancient Shuruppak (summary in Frayne 2008: 7–10; this site, however, also displayed a twin-settlement form, but without shrines as sacred cores: Martin 1983), and Eridu (Wright 1981: 325–327). We hardly know anything about the form of early Larsa (Huot 1990: 196 and 200–201) and Isin. The opponent of Lagash, Umma (Frayne 2006: 357–376), arose from a cluster of settlement cells situated close to a watercourse (Adams 1972: 739; Gibson 1973: 449, table on p.  455). Lagash itself assumed a tripartite form, as it seems, since an early time (Frayne 2008: 77–291; for a surface survey at al-Hiba cf. Carter 1990; on third-millennium topography of Lagash see Black 1990, esp. p. 72). It would be highly interesting to know how far ancient Ur and Kish reduplicated the structure of the primeval shrines of Uruk dedicated to a god and a goddess respectively. In fact, this seems to have happened. The western Kish sector, Uhaimir, housed a shrine of the god Zababa, paired with an Inanna shrine at Ingharra (Frayne 2008: 377–378; first attestation of Zababa on the Utuk/Uhub inscription, Frayne 2008: 63 no. E1.7.42). Unfortunately, we hardly know anything about the dedication of the most ancient temple (?) of Ubaid by Ur, but if Aannepada‘s reference to Ninhursag as a patron deity of his Ubaid shrine harks back to ancient times, this could be true even of Ur (Aanepada’s inscriptions in Frayne 2008: 395–399). However, these two features—the twin character of the urban core and the god-goddess pair of their heavenly guardians—constitute the only features that the three cities had in common at the onset of the third pre-Christian millennium. Very soon, their ruling elites went their respective ways, and the original unity broke down. First and foremost, time modified the settlement forms. Uruk was, in fact, the only city that retained its twin character down to the Ur III times, although the proximity of the Stampflehmgebäude to the Eanna area also shows the importance of the eastern settlement core (Frayne 2008: 409; see also the results of the surface survey of 1982–1984: Boehmer 1991a; Boehmer 1991b; Pongratz-Leisten 1991). At Kish, the focus of settlement activities clearly shifted to the eastern, Ingharra tell, where the ED I-II city quarters, the Plano-convex building, the palace (Moorey 1978; for the Lugal-UD shell inlay from the Kish palace see now Frayne 2008: 61 no. E1.7.41) and the Hursagkalamma temple site were all situated (Frayne 2008: 49). Things went the same way at Ur, where the Ubaid shrine was apparently abandoned after 3000 (Wright 1981: 327) and the site assumed the status of a rural borough (on the local cemetery see Martin 1982), overshadowed by the royal glamour of Ur itself, at least until Aannepada erected his Ninhursag temple there (Wright 1969: 32–42 and 77–87). Much the same observation can be made about the development of the political structure of the three cities. Uruk retained its “en” of Inanna and presumably his “nin” of An. At Ur, however, the “lugal” replaced the fertility-activating role of “en” as early as the time of the SIS strata with the archaic texts, with “nin” acting presumably as status transmitter, who “changed sides,” becoming the partner of “lugal” instead of “en” (attested to by presence of bearers of the “nin” title in the “royal graves” of Ur: Pū-abum, Frayne 2008: 387–88 no. E1.13.3.3). The “en” then assumed a purely sacerdotal role, with NIN.DINGIR as a new office confined to the divinity sphere, as indicated by the complement to her title (same site: Gan-kun-sig, ereš-dingir, Frayne 2008: 383–84 no. E1.13.2.001; on this see Charvát 1997: 78–80 and 85–87). Unfortunately, much less is known about Kish. Nevertheless, the fact

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that the Kish sovereign bore the “lugal” title stands out most clearly (Frayne 2008: 49–76). All these arrangements show how the original binary structure of sacred-cumprofane power, which had evolved at Uruk, smoothly shifted into a one-man show of bearers of the “lugal” title directing their respective communities of Ur and Kish. Another innovation obviously not following the ancient tradition is the insertion of the city of Nippur into the structure of Sumerian political scene (on Nippur see Selz 1992, and Frayne 2008: 349–356). After the demise of the Late Uruk-Jemdet Nasr age, Nippur is first referred to in an archaic Ur sealing in connection with the office of NAMEŠDA and in conjunction with a “City League” seal (Charvát 2010: 45, UE III: 429). In the Tummal chronicle, kings of Kish—Enmebaragesi and his son Agga—turn up as first builders of this Enlil shrine (Frayne 2008: 6, on ED Nippur ibid., pp.  349–56). In later ED times, Sumerian sovereigns desiring to legitimize their authority by one of the highest Sumerian deities received the “exalted sceptre of fate” from Enlil in Nippur (Tinney 1996: 55–56). We may legitimately ask how far the fact that the first royal coronation at Nippur, attested to in the sources for the Akkadian ruler Šar-kali-šarri, constituted a model to be followed by Ur III sovereigns (Tinney 1996: 57 and 58–60.). Thus, the tradition inherent to the SKL—namely, that there had always been but one single sovereign power embodied in a bearer of the lugal title which directed the land of Sumer from uruk, Ur and Kish—can be shown, on the strength of its material incarnations, to rest on realities from the incipient third millennium b.c. The cities of Ur and Kish sprang into being as imitations of the settlement and political structure of Uruk, and that probably as early as the Late Uruk phase. Both cities also seem to have copied the god-goddess structure of main places of public worship from Uruk. However, this initial design soon gave way and local elites made their own arrangements as time went by. Nevertheless, the tradition, though now abandoned from the material and organizational viewpoints, was still spiritually alive. The perception of Uruk as the place where suzerainty was first exercised was clearly never abandoned in third-millennium Sumer. Witness the action of Enshakushanna, perhaps a son of the Ur king Elulu (on the latter Frayne 2008: 405 no. E1.13.9; Enskahushanna dumu Elili: Frayne 2008: 431–32 no. E1.14.17.3, on p. 432 l. 5), who, assuming power over Uruk, styled himself “en ki-en-gi lugal-kalamma” in obvious reference to the original “en” title of Uruk (Frayne 2008: 430 no. E1.14.17.1, ll. 4–5, as well as Frayne 2008: 432 no. E1.14.17.3, ll. 3–4). Lugal-kiğine-dudu, his successor, also exercised his “en” ship at Uruk (Frayne 2008: 413–419, esp. Nos. E1.14.14.1 and E1.14.14.2). It was only the later Uruk sovereign Lugal-KISAL-si, who, respecting the usages of the time, accepted the “lugal” title even as an Uruk prince (Frayne 2008: 422 l. 6 no. E1.14.15.1). The same stream of tradition is attested to by Lugalzagesi of Umma. This sovereign of Ummaite origin styled himself in inscriptions of his home town énsi— giš KÚŠU.KI (Frayne 2008: 376 no. E1.12.7.1 l. i 4 and 7). When, however, he chose Uruk as the seat of his supreme authority, his official titles changed accordingly into “lugal-unu.KI-ga” and “lugal-kalam-ma” (Frayne 2008: 433ff.). After the period of predominance of the Kish sovereign-power concept, embodied in the ideology of the Akkad-state kingship, this tradition was brought back to life by the royalty of the Ur III dynasty (Michalowski 2008). For the first time, they

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united under their sway all the three foci of paramount power in Sumer, Uruk, Ur and Kish. Kings of the Third dynasty of Ur expressed the symbolic prestige of these cities by being crowned in two of them, at Uruk and Ur, with Nippur as third (Vacín 2010, passim, esp. pp. 91). The omission of Kish seems to reflect the expressed dissociation of Ur-III age kingship from its Akkadian predecessor; the transfer of the Kish hero, Gilgamesh, 1 to Uruk enabled the royal ideologists to evade the politically explosive reference to Akkad and yet to integrate the Kish stream of tradition into the official version of the royal ancestry of Ur-III kings. Basing their claim to power on the royal title of Ur, they proceeded to appropriate as their ancestors both the mythical rulers of Uruk and Gilgamesh, originally probably linked with Kish, whom they made into a denizen of Uruk. Thus, the Ur III kings (or rather their advisors) injected new life into the old tradition and probably remodeled it substantially. This, in fact, is a rather eloquent example of tradition and innovation in ancient Mesopotamia. Tradition was highly respected, and even if reality took a turn away from it, resulting in innovations brought about by changing times, it came in handy when employed as a useful tool in situations of changes and transitions of political and social power. The interplay of the three power cradles—Uruk, Ur and Kish—also helps to explain why no other political bodies of Sumer found their way into the SKL, though they might have played rather substantial roles in their times. The SKL obviously perceives as the only legitimate beareres of suzerainty those cities whose ruling elites put forward original ideological substantiations of their supremacy. Uruk clearly played the role of the inchoate state, “where it all began” The Kish thinkers put forward the Gilgamesh doctrine—namely, that the “lugal” however mighty he may be, is just a man and must share the fate of other human beings (Charvát 2005: 180– 84). The Ur sages contributed then the Dumuzi doctrine—namely, that the king is an embodiment of Dumuzi, the dying and resurrecting god (Charvát 2005: 202–9). None of the other power centres could boast a similar legitimation of power, and consequently were not seen as partners to the three incumbents of the most ancient and original sovereign office, which first emerged at Uruk. It can be assumed that all the rulers bearing the ensi2 title, used in the Shuruppak documents originating probably from the Kish administration (so Pomponio-Visicato 1994: 12–19) and denoting perhaps a kind of governor subordinated to a PA.TE.SI.GAL of Shuruppak, were perceived as deriving their authority from the Kish administration, and thus possessing no genuine suzerainty of their own. They fell victim to the central thesis of the SKL, that of a unified Sumer heeding a single sovereign “lugal” residing at Uruk, Ur or Kish. Not that such an idea would have been beyond the grasp of later historical periods: on this side of the Christian era, Geoffrey of Monmouth, with his Historia regum Britanniae of 1137, would have understood it perfectly well.

1.  Fara, ancient Shuruppak, is now interpreted by our Italian colleagues as an administrative centre of the Kish kingdom (Pomponio-Visicato 1994: 10–20, Visicato 1994: 88, Marchesi 2006: 221). As the first texts referring to Gilgamesh heed from here, it seems logical to seek Gilgamesh’s original activity sphere at Kish rather than at Uruk.

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References Adams, R. 1972 Patterns of Urbanization in Early Southern Mesopotamia. Pp. 735–749 in Man, Settlement and Urbanism. Edited by P. J. Ucko, R. Tringham, G. W. Dimbleby. London: Duckworth. 1981 Heartland of Cities: Surveys of Ancient Settlement and Land Use on the Central Floodplain of the Euphrates. Chicago and London: The University of Chicago Press. Black, J. A. 1990 A note on Zurghul. Sumer 46/1–2: 71–73. Boehmer, R. M. 1991a 4. 1. Glyptik. Pp. 131–140 in Finkbeiner, ed. 1991. 1991b 4. 2. Kleinfunde aus Metall, Stein, Muschel u. a. Pp. 141–147 in Finkbeiner, ed. 1991. Carter, E. 1990 A surface survey of Lagash, al-Hiba. 1984. Sumer. 46/1–2: 60–63. Charvát, P. 1997 On people, signs and states–Spotlights on Sumerian Society, c. 3500–2500 B.C. Prague: The Oriental Institute, Academy of Sciences of the Czech Republic. 2005 The iconography of pristine statehood–Painted pottery and seal impressions from Susa, southwestern Iran. Prague: Karolinum Press. 2010 Inscriptions on sealings from archaic Ur. Pp.  39–74 in Shepherds of the Black-headed People–The Royal Office Vis-à-vis Godhead in Ancient Mesopotamia. Edited by Kateřina Šašková, Lukáš Pecha, Petr Charvát (edd.). Plzeň: Západočeská univerzita. Finkbeiner, U., ed. 1991 Uruk. Kampagne 35–37, 1982–1984, Die archäologische Oberflächenuntersuchung (Survey), Ausgrabungen in Uruk-Warka. Endberichte 4. Mainz am Rhein: Philipp von Zabern. Frayne, D. R. 2008 The Royal Inscriptions of Mesopotamia, Early Periods volume 1: Presargonic Period 2700–2350 BC. Toronto Buffalo London: University of Toronto Press. de Genouillac, H. 1925 Fouilles françaises d’El-Akhymer–Premières recherches archéologiques à Kich, tome second. Paris: Librairie ancienne Edouard Champion. George, A. 2009 Review of Frayne 2008. Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies of the University of London 72/2: 390–392. Gibson McGuire The City and Area of Kish. Miami: Field Research Projects. 1972 1973 Population shift and the rise of Mesopotamian civilization. Pp. 447–463 in The explanation of culture change: models in prehistory. Edited by C. Renfrew. London: Duckworth. Glassner, J.-J. 2005 La chronique de la monarchie une et l’écriture d’histoire à la fin du 3e millénaire. N.A.B.U. 2005/2: 51–52. Huot, J.-L. 1990 Les expériences mésopotamiennes. Pp. 183–253 in Naissance des cites. Edited by JeanLouis Huot, Jean-Paul Thalmann, Dominique Valbelle. Paris: Editions Nathan. Marchesi, G. 2006 Appendice. Pp. 205–271 in Marchetti 2006. Marchetti, N. 2006 La statuaria regale nella Mesopotamia protodinastica [Atti della Accademia Nazionale dei Lincei Anno CDIII, 2006, Classe di scienze morale, storiche e filologiche, Memorie, Series IX, Volume XXI, Fascicolo I], con un Appendice di Gianni Marchesi (205–271). Roma: Bardi Editore. Martin, H. 1982 The Early Dynastic cemetery at al-Ubaid, a re-evaluation. Iraq 44/2: 145–186. 1983 Settlement Patterns at Šuruppak. Iraq 45/1: 24–31.

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Michalowski, P. 2008 The Mortal Kings of Ur: A Short Century of Divine Rule in Ancient Mesopotamia. Pp. 33–45 in Religion and Power–Divine Kingship in the Ancient World and Beyond. Oriental Institute Seminars No. 4. Edited by N. Brisch. Chicago: The Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago. Moorey, P. R. S. 1978 Kish Excavations 1923–1933. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Pomponio, F., and Visicato, G. 1994 Early Dynastic administrative tablets of Šuruppak. Napoli: Istituto Universitario Orientale di Napoli, Dipartimento di Studi Asiatici. Napoli: Series Major VI. Pongratz-Leisten, B. 1991 5. 3. Frühdynastische zeit. Pp. 195–97 in Finkbeiner (ed.) 1991. Selz, G. J. 1992 Enlil und Nippur nach präsargonischen Quellen. Pp. 189–225 in Nippur at the centennial. CRRAI 35. Occasional Publications of the Samuel Noah Kramer Fund, 14. Philadelphia. Tinney, S. 1996 The Nippur Lament–Royal Rhetoric and Divine Legitimation in the Reign of Išme-Dagan of Isin (1953–1935 bc). Occasional Publications of the Samuel Noah Kramer Fund, 16. Philadelphia. Vacín, L. 2010 ‘Youth known to An among the gods’: A new look at the ‘Coronation Hymns’ of king Šulgi. Pp. 89–109 in Shepherds of the Black-headed People: The Royal Office Vis-à-vis Godhead in Ancient Mesopotamia. Edited by Kateřina Šašková, Lukáš Pecha, Petr Charvát. Plzeň: Západočeská Univerzita. Visicato, G. 1994 Un testo di assegnazioni d’orzo ad Abu Salabikh. N. A. B. U. 1994/4: 87–89. Wright, H. T. 1969 The Administration of Rural Production in an Early Mesopotamian Town. Anthropological Papers, Museum of Anthropology, University of Michigan No. 38. Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan. 1981 The Southern Margins of Sumer: Archaeological Survey of the Area of Eridu and Ur. Pp. 295–345 in Adams 1981.

Where are the Uruk Necropoles? Regional Innovation or Change in Tradition for Northern Mesopotamia



Jesús Gil Fuensanta and Eduardo Crivelli

Madrid Buenos Aires with the collaboration of Rafael Moya Molina Alicante

Introduction: The Question of the Uruk Necropoles Since a long time ago, archaeologists have wondered about the extreme scarcity of human burials in the archaeological record of the Uruk Period of Mesopotamia (IV millennium b.c.). Discoveries in northern Mesopotamia concerning the Late Uruk culture in the 1970s confirmed this pattern. In appearance, no “Uruk” tomb was found in the thousands of cubic meters excavated in Habuba Kabira-South, Tell Kannâs, or Jabal Aruda, what seems to leave little doubt about an absence of Uruk burials intra muros. The pattern also fits the Middle Uruk, as Tell Sheikh Hassan evidences (cf. Boese 1995). As in the Uruk period the population was considerable and concentrated, the situation is strikingly anomalous. In the presumed central site of the period, Uruk-Warka, more than 700 tombs from later periods were found, but not from the Uruk culture (cf. Boehmer et al. 1995).

A Brief Reference to the Forerunners and Burials in the Preceding Periods The dearth of Uruk burials contrasts strikingly against the background of earlier and later periods, as we would try to prove. A non-exhaustive exam of former periods follows.

Aceramic Neolithic B (ca. 8500–6800 cal b.c.) In PPNB Anatolia, “the dead had been buried within the settlement, either under the houses or in special buildings” (Özdoğan 1999: 233). In the northern Mesopotamian region, Nevali Çori (Hauptmann 1999) and Çayönü (Özdoğan 1999: 233) are not only a reference for the Aceramic Neolithic B of Upper Mesopotamia (dated ca. 8000–6500 b.c.), but for burial rituals. In these sites, burial practices were varied: tombs were dug under the floor of houses, but also human skulls were 81

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placed in specific rooms of special buildings. The separate placement of some of them suggests a further ritual. In Nevali Çori, 70 human skulls and body parts of 400 individuals were found in the so-called Skull Building (see Hauptmann 1999; Talalay 2004: 143). Interestingly, a complex sculpture represents a bird, perhaps a vulture, grasping a female head (Hauptmann 1999: 76, Hauptmann 2007, Fig. 14). In Jerf al-Ahmar, a site by the Syrian Euphrates near the Turkish border, human and animal skulls were placed in special contexts of communal buildings (Akkermans 2003: 54–55). These practices suggest that keeping the links with the forebears was a collective responsibility. More examples of the skull cult can be found in the Aceramic Neolithic of the Levant region, in sites such as Jerico (Kenyon 1957: 40–43, Kenyon 1963: 45–48, Nigro 2007: 4 ff.) and Ain Ghazal (Rollefson, Simmons and Kafafi 1992). The special treatment of the skulls suggests some kind of cult, which was extended to animals, as the evidence in contemporary sites such as Ganj Dareh (Zagros) or Nemrik (North Iraq) indicates. Comparative rituals were widespread, suggesting a horizon.

Ceramic Neolithic (ca. 6800–6100 cal. b.c.) The commonest funerary practice during the Ceramic Neolithic was the intramural burial pit (see Özdoğan 1999: 233). The placing of tombs inside the houses suggests that the maintenance of the links with the ancestors was a family affair, instead of the communal concern suggested by the collective disposition of the dead in many instances during the Aceramic Neolithic. Perhaps, the domestic unity was gaining certain independence from the village. In Çatal Höyük, Central Anatolia, Mellaart classified the structures in houses and shrines. Although many burials were found in them, with a preponderance of females and children, an extramural cemetery was considered a possibility (Mellaart 1998: 38–39). Building I in the North Area, dug during the second stage of the investigations, featured four phases of occupation and contained at least fifty burials, including several adult males. The head of one of the individuals had been deliberately removed prior to burial (Hodder 1998: 50). Wall paintings at Çatal Höyük depict vultures attacking or eating bodies (Mellaart 1998, Fig. 5.4), what reminds us of the representation of a bird of prey perched on a female head found in Nevali Çori (see above).

Late Neolithic and Early Chalcolithic We will mention just a few examples of northern Mesopotamia. For the Halaf culture (5900–5200 cal. b.c.), “all burial evidence comes from contexts of occupation” (Akkermans 1989: 83). Simple and individual inhumations in pits were found inside the mounds in Tell Arpachiyah, Tepe Gawra, Yarim Tepe I, Chagar Bazar and Yümük Tepe/Mersin, among other sites. Also, jars and pots were found containing only the skull (Arpachiyah, Yarim Tepe II) or decapitated humans (Tell Azzo II). Cremation is present across distant regions (from Yarim Tepe II in North Iraq to Mersin in the Mediterranean Turkey). The occupants of Yarim Tepe II utilized Yarim Tepe I, an abandoned Hassuna site, as a burial place, a practice that separated spatially the living from the dead; but most tombs were found at the settlement. Pit burial was the more common practice, particularly for infants and children, but cremation and skull interment were also practiced, although limited to adolescents and adults (Akkermans 1989: 77 and

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83). As is commonly the case in the Near East, most infant burials at this site lacked burial gifts. We remind that in some Halaf pots of Tell Arpachiyah were depicted beheaded humans, a suggestion that the old skull burial was still alive. In Çavi Tarlasi (Urfa) 18 burials were found, mostly children inhumations; remarkable are the two double depositions here found, each consisting of adult and child (see von Wickede and Misir 1985). At Chagar Bazar in the Habur, most of the pit tombs contain children (see Düring 2008). In Mersin, in the western most Halaf influenced area -the later historical Cilicia-, the Halaf-like levels of Yümük Tepe XIX-XVII show, older to younger, pit burials, inhumations with no goods and mass cremation of adults (see Garstang 1953: 101 ff.). A few individual inhumations with scarce goods associated took place in the Tigris region during the Halaf culture. Gerikihaciyan in Turkey yields simple pit inhumations (Watson and Leblanc 1990). At Domuztepe, west of the Upper Euphrates, a complex ritual, perhaps a feast intended to be shared by the alive and the dead, seems to have taken place (see Carter, Campbell and Gauld 2003). It happened in post-Halaf times, when Ubaid influences began to be felt. In a pit, several human skulls -of individuals which may have died at different times, as suggested by the very different damages which show the skulls- were buried, along with the remains of young female cows and sheep/ goats: valuable animals. Notably, most of these bones were unbroken, while in domestic refuse high fragmentation is the rule. Probably, entire cows were butchered and the bones were cast into the pit. Unbroken bones (mainly skulls) of dogs were also present. The excavators think that dogs were intentionally interred with humans. The dog was not eaten at Domuztepe; it should have been, as in most of the world, an important, alert ally for man. At the same time, pigs seem to have been excluded from the burial pit. The ashes dumped in the pit suggest the kindling of a big fire nearby. This costly ritual may have renewed the link between the living and the ancestors and contributed to the social integration. At Tepe Gawra, burials seems very carefully planned and laid down; but the excavators mention also mass-graves (see Rothman 2001). Late Neolithic burial practices presented people as peers in death (Akkermans 2003: 153).

The Ubaid Period During the Ubaid period, burials were laid inside sites or in necropolis. Eridu, in southern Mesopotamia, is the best example: its Later Ubaid cemetery provided hundreds of tombs. It seems to have been a communal cemetery kept for a long period (Safar, Mustafa and Lloyd 1981). Fine painted pots -especially bowls- and clay figurines were placed in individual inhumations of adults, but typically, little material culture was associated with the dead. According to this evidence, a few researchers have described the Ubaid society as equal-based, with little hierarchy, but in fact there was social stratification, especially in the later phases (Ubaid 3 to Terminal Ubaid) as suggested by the use of precious and exotic goods. It should be noted that in the Late Ubaid culture, many features of the subsequent Uruk Period were already present (architecture, administration, imported goods, mass-produced pottery); but burial practices were in stark contrast.

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Interesting is the case of Susa I, parallel to the Ubaid culture spread, perhaps then a religious site, with a massive mudbrick platform. At the base of the platform, thousands of graves were found containing fine painted pottery and copper objects. The mass inhumation graves have been interpreted as those of priests (see Hole 1990). In Northern Mesopotamia, social differentiation can be discerned in Ubaid burials or in contemporary local, pre-Uruk or Late Chalcolithic, non-Uruk settlements sites. Individual interments were placed under houses or in remarkable buildings. Tepe Gawra in the IVth millennium provides examples of social stratification in contexts parallel to Mid-Late Uruk at least. In Tepe Gawra IX burials, at the end of the period, greater differences appear in relation to those from preceding levels. There are individual burials at Degirmentepe (in the Malatya area, Eastern Turkey, see Gürdil 2010), the Terminal Ubaid site of Korche (close to Tilbes Höyük in Birecik, Turkish Euphrates), and at Kenan Tepe in the Turkish Tigris. We have less data in the Tigris region in comparison with the Euphrates area because of limited exposures. In Kenan Tepe, the Ubaid-like people left primary and secondary burials. Late Chalcolithic mudbrick burial structures and intrusive EB tombs were also found (see Parker and Dodd 2005).

And, Where are the Uruk Necropoles of Northern Mesopotamia? The paucity of Uruk burials in southern Mesopotamia was already referred to. Since Uruk influence was strongly felt in the north, a consideration follows. The many teams performing Salvage Archaeological Activity into the BirecikCarchemish areas, on both sides of the border have discovered a lot of historical periods since the Palaeolithic. And in comparison also the amount of discovered burials and mortuary practices is perhaps bigger than in any other archaeological area of the Near East. Since no Uruk tombs were found south to Carchemish, in the Middle Euphrates, a few researchers have suggested a different mortuary type for the Uruk societies. To date, we even lack iconographical evidence of those burials for the period. Burials dated to the Jamdet Nasr phase were found in Ur (cf. Moorey 1999: 43–44). Other places of southern Mesopotamia offer scarce evidence of tombs, with little material culture associated. In contrast with the Uruk situation, many tombs and burials belonging to the initial phases of the Early Bronze (EB) Period were discovered. A good example is the considerable number of individuals and associated artifacts from the Royal tombs of the First Dinasty of Ur (see Pollock 2007). The increase of archaeological excavations since the 1970s in North Syria and Eastern Turkey resulted in the recording of many tombs of the Early Bronze Age, mostly placed in III millennium b.c.. South of Carchemish, in the Syrian Tishrin Dam area, the findings of Yarablus Tahtani or Tell Banat are remarkable (cf. Porter 2002). The phases of the Early Bronze in northern Mesopotamia yielded inhumations in pithoi, cooking pots, cists and shaft stone tombs. According to studies about the end of the III millennium in Southeastern Anatolia and North Syria, urban settlements of the period were multi-ethnic (see Carter and Parker 1995). They consider the mortuary traditions as good indicators of

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Map of the sites mentioned.

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cultural groups as the ceramic traditions; which will explain the overlap between pottery horizons and burial behaviors. Burials from Tilbes Höyük (Birecik dam) date to very early in the EB sequence. An EB I tomb was dug into a Late Uruk house (see Figure 1), as also was the case in Habuba Kabira, and in Qara Quzaq in a contemporary phase (Valdes Pereiro 1999: 120). In fact, a tradition of mudbrick tombs careful built into buildings had appeared formerly in the Fourth millennium of Upper Euphrates, as in Korucutepe. A remarkable tomb with sacrificed individuals was found at Arslantepe (in Malatya). In the grave goods, Transcaucasian–Mesopotamian hybrid cultural traits were noted. Around thirty years ago, Lidar in the Ataturk Dam area yielded a notorious cemetery from the EB I–II date. After the literature of Ancient Near East and the archaeological remains of Northern Mesopotamia discovered until the 1980s, before the big salvage projects in north Syria and southeastern Anatolia, the inhabitants of the north showed mortuary and ritual patterns which were very similar through the whole Early Bronze Age (for example, in Carchemish or the hypogeum of Tell Ahmar-Til Barsib; see respectively Woolley 1914 and Robbaert and Bunnens 1999). Archaeological excavations in the Birecik-Karkemish area since the late 1990s generated a new and broad paleoanthropological spectrum from the EB I–II, far richer than those of other areas from northern Mesopotamia. One of the best examples is the EB cemetery close to the Birecik Dam, which consisted mostly of cist burials, each containing several individuals. Jar burials were less common and generally reserved for children. Grave goods comprise pottery containers, pins, spearheads, or beads (Sertok and Ergeç 1999). Although the Early Bronze Age cemeteries in the northern Euphrates region are placed not far from the related settlements (Cooper 2006:242), the one to which this cemetery belonged has not been identified. Nevertheless, it is opposite to Tilvez-Meteler, a site on a mound of ca. 3 ha. with excavated remains from EB I. Also the amount of EB III-IV tombs in the area is remarkable. And for those phases, tombs are mostly placed inside the settlements.

Concluding Remarks The long time span of the Mesopotamian cultures, from the Neolithic to the Bronze Age, could explain the differences in burial traditions, even within the same region or sites. Most of the Halaf sites feature burial within the settlement. Some connection of Halaf mortuary practices into the Later Ubaid of northern Euphrates and Tigris can be perceived. The northern Late Chalcolithic tradition of careful stone or mudbrick tombs inside older buildings could be a nonlocal tradition. This practice survived at least till the early phases of EB Age in the region. On the other hand, traditional Ubaid mass cemeteries have yet not been found in Upper Mesopotamia. Some religious belief could change from IV to III millennia. Maybe chance has prevented the finding of many burial contexts of the Fourth millennium of Mesopotamia, or on the other hand, maybe we have a real ethnicalsocial and ritual change in several regions of Mesopotamia during the fourth millennium, which is reflected in the burials pattern.

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For the initial Early Bronze age in this area, we have a big evidence of underground burials or chambers specially built for the dead. They appear inside and outside settlements. As in the preceding periods (i.e. Ubaid), graves could be communal but now there is an increase of the artifacts associated to the deceased. The burials seem to have been used during a long time, since very late in the IV millennium, and in the earlier phases, EB I–II, are massive communal. Notably, sites with monumental architecture such as Arslantepe or Surtepe (both in north Euphrates) have sparse tombs. In particular, the area of Birecik-Carchemish area yielded a new and broad burial spectrum from the immediate post-Uruk times, that is, from the EB I. The cases outnumber those of other regions. Many burials date from EB I–II, suggesting an increase of population and not simply fortunate archaeological discovery. In general, until EB III, bodies seem to be placed not under houses or buildings in the settlements of the area. The change in the mortuary practices through the III millennium seems to be progressive, according to political or ethnic changes in the ruling classes. As a final preliminary conclusion for the burials in the transition IV to III millennia in Birecik-Karkemish area: 1.  Members of certain families could have been buried in the same grave, in special cemeteries outside settlements or, as an exception, into the sites. A kind of cult of ancestors is suggested. 2.  Different burial rituals could have taken place in the Late Chalcolithic/ Uruk. Very few individuals were buried in the sites. If there were special cemeteries, they haven’t been found. 3.  Uruk society was highly corporate, what may have discouraged ostentatious funerary expressions; but the same can be said of the preceding Ubaid phase, whose burial practices are well documented.

“Very Alternative” suggestions for Uruk peoples burials can be considered on the other hand: A.  Special cremations could have taken place. In this matter, we remind the “viking-like” funeral hypothesis advanced by Susan Pollock (see Pollock 1999). B.  Perhaps as an extreme hypothesis, the practice of leaving the bodies in the open air (as in some kind of “towers of silence”) to the wild animals or birds can be postulated. Although distant in time, the representations of birds of prey in Nevali Chori and Chatalhöyük come to mind. C.  Boat burial: the bodies would have been disposed of in boats left to drift downriver.

But nothing in the archaeological record or in the later written tradition gives support to these “alternative” possibilities (the first two, moreover, should have left traces); both prehistoric and historical facts speak in favor of a continuous development with newcomers from time to time. In spite of the “Sumerians versus Subarians” motto, burial practices were not very different through the Early Bronze Age of Mesopotamia. To date we have considered mostly interactions between North and Southern Mesopotamia, but the material culture speaks of the presence of Western, Central Anatolian and also Caucasian populations in the area. And the burials practices were consequently affected for the entire Early Bronze Age.

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The authors of the present research do not believe that some social and ritual change took place easily at the Uruk period which affected the mortuary patterns. We trust a simpler solution such as the placement of burials, as the usual mass cemeteries described above, along the river shores. Changes of river level and erosion could have erased forever most of those burial sites of the Uruk/Late Chalcolithic Period.

References Akkermans, P. M. M. G. 1989 Halaf Mortuary Practices. Pp.  75–88 in To the Euphrates and Beyond: Archaeological Studies in Honour of Maurits N. van Loon. Edited by O. Haex, H. Curvers and P. Akkermans. Rotterdam: Balkema. Akkermans, P. M. M. G., and Schwartz G. M. 2003 The Archaeology of Syria. From Complex Hunter-gatherers to Early Urban Societies (c. 16,000–300 b.c.). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Andrae W. 1922 Die Archaischen Ischtar-Tempel in Assur. Leipzig: J.C. Hinrichs. Boehmer, R. M., Pedde, F. and Salje, B. 1995 Uruk: Die Graber. Ausgrabungen in Uruk-Warka, Endberichte, vol.10. Mainz am Rhein: Philip Von Zabern Verlag. Boese, J. 1995 Ausgrabungen in Tell Sheikh Hassan I. Vorläufige Berichte über die Ausgrabungskampagnen 1984–1990 und 1992–1994. Saarbrücker: Saarbrücker Druckerei und Verlag. Carter, E. and Parker, A. 1995 Pots, People and the Archaeology of Death in Northern Syria and Southern Anatolia in the Last Half of the Third Millennium B.C. Pp. 96–116 in The Archaeology of Death in the Ancient Near East. Edited by S. Campbell and A. Green. Oxbow Monograph 51. Oxford: Oxbow Books. Carter, E., Campbell, S. and Gauld, S. 2003 Elusive Halaf: New Data from Late Halaf Domuztepe in South Central Turkey. Paléorient 39: 117–134. Charvát, P. 2002 Mesopotamia Before History. London: Routledge. Cooper, L. 2006 Early Urbanism on the Syrian Euphrates. New York and London: Rutledge. Düring, B. S. 2008 Sub-Floor Burials at Çatalhöyük: Exploring Relations between the Dead, Houses, and the Living. Pp. 603–620 in Proceedings of the 5th International Conference on the Archaeology of the Ancient Near East. Edited by J.M. Córdoba, M. Molist, M.C. Pérez, I. Rubio and S. Martínez, volume 3. Madrid: Universidad Autónoma de Madrid. Gürdil, B. 2010 Exploring Social Organizational Aspects of the Ubaid Communities: A Case Study of Degirmentepe in Eastern Turkey. Pp. 361–376 in Beyond the Ubaid. Transformation and Integration in the Late Prehistoric Societies of the Middle East. Edited by R. A. Carter and G. Philip. SAOC Number 63. Chicago: Oriental Institute Publications. Hauptmann, H. 1999 The Urfa Region. Pp. 65–86 in Neolithic in Turkey. The Cradle of Civilization. New Discoveries. Edited by Mehmet Özdogan and Nezih Basgelen. Istanbul: Arkeoloji ve Sanat Yayinlari. 2002 Upper Mesopotamia in Its Regional Context During the Early Neolithic. Pp. 263–275 in The Neolithic of Central Anatolia: Internal Developments and External Relations During the 9th-6th Millennia cal b.c.. Edited by F. Gerard and I. Thissen. Istanbul: Ege Yayinlari.

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2007 Nevali Çori ve Urfa Bölgesinde Neolitik Dönem. Pp. 131–164 in Tukiye’de Neolitik Dönem. Yeni Kazilari — Yeni Bulgular, I. Edited by Mehmet Özdoğan and Nezih Başgelen. Istanbul: Arkeoloji ve Sanat Yayinlari. Hole, F. 1990 Cemetery or Mass-Grave? Reflections on Susa I. Pp. 1–14 in Contribution à l’Histoire de l’Irán: Mélanges Offerts a Jean Perrot, edited by F. Vallat. Paris: Editions Recherche sur les Civilisations. Moorey, P. R. S. 1999 Ancient Mesopotamian Materials and Industries: The Archaeological Evidence. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Nigro, L. 2007 Aside the Spring: Byblos and Jericho from Village to Town in the Second Half of the 4th Millennium b.c.. Pp. 1–45 in Byblos and Jericho in the Early Bronze I: Social Dynamics and Cultural Interactions. Proceedings of the International Workshop Held in Rome on March 7th 2006, edited by L. Nigro. Studies on the Archaeology of Palestine & Transjordan, ROSAPAT, 4. Rome: La Sapienza University. Özdoğan, A. 1999 Çayönü. Pp. 35–63 in Neolithic in Turkey. The Cradle of Civilization. New Discoveries, edited by Mehmet Özdoğan and Nezih Başgelen. Istanbul: Arkeoloji ve Sanat Yayinlari. Parker, B. J. and Dodd, L. 2005 The Upper Tigris Archaeological Research Project (UTARP)–A Preliminary Report from the 2002 Field Season. Anatolica 30: 69–110. Pollock, S. 1999 Introduction. Pp. 1–27 in Ancient Mesopotamia: The Eden that Never Was. Case Studies in Early Societies. Edited by Susan Pollock. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 2007 The Royal Cemetery of Ur: Ritual, Tradition, and the Creation of Subjects. Pp. 89–110 in Representations of Political Power: Case Histories from Times of Change and Dissolving Order in the Ancient Near East. Edited by M. Heinz and M.H. Feldman. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Porter, V. A. 2002 The Dynamics of Death: Ancestors, Pastoralism, and the Origins of a Third-Millennium City in Syria. Bulletin of the American Schools of Oriental Research 325: 1–36. Robbaert, A. and Bunnens, G. 1999 Excavations at Tell Ahmar-Til Barsib. Pp. 163–178 in Archaeology of the Upper Syrian Euphrates. The Tishrin Dam Area. Proceedings of the International Symposium Held at Barcelona, Jan. 28th-30th, 1998, edited by G. del Olmo Lete and and J. L. Montero. Sabdell: Ausa. Rollefson, G. O., Simmons, A.H. and Kafafi, Z. 1992 Neolithic Cultures at ‘Ain Ghazal, Jordan. Journal of Field Archaeology 19 (4): 443–70. Rothman, M. 2001 Tepe Gawra. The Evolution of a Small, Prehistoric Center in Northern Iraq. Philadelphia: University Museum Publications. Safar, F., Mustafa, M. A. and Lloyd, S. 1981 Eridu. Baghdad: Ministry of Culture and Information, State Organization of Antiquities and Heritage. Sertok, K. and Ergeç, R. 1999 A New Early Bronze Age Cemetery: Excavations near the Birecik Dam, Southeastern Turkey. Preliminary Report (1997–98). Anatolica 25: 87–107. Talalay, L. E. 2004 Heady Business: Skulls, Heads, and Decapitation in Neolithic Anatolia and Greece. Journal of Mediterranean Archaeology 17(2): 139–163. Valdes Pereiro, C. 1999 Tell Qara Quzaq: A Summary of the First Results. Pp. 117–27 in Archaeology of the Upper Syrian Euphrates. The Tishrin Dam Area. Proceedings of the International Symposium

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Held at Barcelona, Jan. 28th–30th, 1998. Edited by G. del Olmo Lete and J. L. Montero Fenollós. Sabadell: AUSA. Watson, R. J. and Leblanc, S. A. 1990 Gerikihaciyan: A Halafian Site in Southeastern Turkey. Monograph Series No. 33, UCLA. Los Angeles: Cotsen Institute of Archaeology. Von Wickede, A. and Misir, A. 1985 Cavi Tarlasi 1984 Kazı kampanyası. VII. Kazı Sonuçları Toplantısı, pp. 103–109. Ankara: T.C. Kültür Bakanlığ. Woolley, L. 1914 Hittite Burial Customs. Annals of Archaeology and Anthropology, University of Liverpool 6: 87–98.

Changes Through Time: The Pit F Sequence at Ur Revisited Giacomo Benati Bologna

Introduction Trial Pit F was located in the south-eastern area of the sacred precinct of Ur, investigated since 1926 by C. L. Woolley on behalf of the British Museum of London and the Penn Museum of Philadelphia. In the 1928–1929 campaign, the excavators began to dig deep soundings, namely Trial Pits, through the Royal Cemetery aiming at investigating strata underlying the cemetery burials. 1 After the excavation of a number of minor pits, a large scale sounding, labelled Pit F, was planned for the 1929–1930 campaign. The selected area was situated within the Neo-Babylonian precinct, on the edge of the mound, where wind erosion had caused a significant denudation of the surface exposing architectural remains (Woolley 1956: 56, pl. 71). The excavation of Pit F not only revealed an unbroken sequence of structures but also produced remarkable amounts of stratified materials, such as pottery, cuneiform tablets, glyptics, stone vessels and various artifacts. 2 Up to now the most interesting attempts to reconsider this sequence were given by Sürenhagen (1999) and Dittmann (2006). These chrono-stratigraphic studies however did not deal with the issues linked to the reconstruction of the excavated contexts. The systematic review of the original excavation records housed at the British Museum together with the analysis of a relevant bulk of original materials from both London and Philadelphia, demonstrates that a more thorough reconstruction of Pit F contexts can be achieved. The methodology adopted in this task is briefly outlined here together with a preliminary analysis of some of these materials examined. Also, some issues raised by this type of research are singled out. Author’s Note:  This paper stems from the systematic review of the Early Dynastic stratigraphy, chronology and materials from Ur, which is the subject of ongoing doctoral research, carried out by the author at the University of Turin. I should thank N. Marchetti, G. Marchesi, S. De Martino, C. Lippolis, and H. Pittman for their continual guidance throughout the project. To Sarah Collins of the British Museum and to Katy Blanchard, Penn Museum of Philadelphia, goes my gratitude for their help and assistance during my research visits. 1.  On the location of the pits see Gockel 1982 and Zimmerman 1998, who highlighted the inconsistencies of Woolley’s report. 2.  The architectural phases A-H, dated to the Early Dynastic period, cover a stratification ca. 1.00 m thick of shallow architectural remains (Levels I-K) set on five layers of pottery kilns and waste dumps (Kiln Strata 5–1), dated between the Uruk and the Jemdet Nasr period. Below the pottery kilns were investigated strata characterized by Ubaid period burials (Cf. the general pit section, Woolley 1956: pl. 73).

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Method The research body consisted of two back to back approaches: the critical reading of the published sources and the examination of the unpublished evidence. Firstly, with the aim of gathering, digitizing and arranging the data on a stratigraphic basis, I focused on Woolley’s reports (Woolley 1930; 1956), as well as on the above mentioned contributes, joining the information divided between the different sources. The second step of my research consisted of the examination of the original excavation records and of the unpublished materials kept at the British Museum of London and at the Penn Museum of Philadelphia. The British Museum houses the original field records of the joint excavation led by Woolley. The analysis of the object cards inventory in particular revealed a wealth of fresh data. The object cards consist of hand-written files containing specific information on each excavated object that was allocated an excavation number (i.e., U. number). They are usually provide brief descriptions of the items, sketches, and data on the find-and the findspot elevations. 3 This dataset allowed me not only to propose new interpretations on the stratigraphic context of several finds, but also to correct the conflicts contained in the reports, 4 and to discover numerous objects omitted from the publications. Consequently, the study of a wide range of unpublished or ill-documented objects completed the overview of the original materials. The data gathered from the direct examination of the items have been included in athe database, now encompassing both contextual and artifactual information. A preliminary discussion of some of these finds is provided below.

Glyptics Some glyptic materials divided between the Penn Museum and the British Museum were taken into examination afresh. Thanks to the analysis of the archives, precise find-spot elevations can now be assigned to these objects. If the modern impressions of the seals were published (Legrain 1951), two seal impressions discussed here were omitted or not illustrated in the reports. A complete graphic documentation of these items has been therefore prepared. U.13711–Level B. Shell cylinder seal carved with geometric patterns, consisting of wavy lines, eye motifs, and palmettes, excavated at 15. 50 m above medium sea level (hereafter amsl). 5 The geometric patterns seem to point to a JN-ED I date, 3.  The rectangular area of the pit was divided in squares of 5 by 5 m, labelled with capital letters (C-H) and digits (4–9). This grid was used as reference to record the position of the finds. Find-spot elevations were taken as depths from the surface. 4.  In this view, the earliest source of information is considered more reliable since not distorted by later revisions. 5.  On the field, the find-spot elevations were registered as depths from a datum, in this case the surface level. In the reports however they are given as elevations above sea level. To do so, Woolley had to convert the measurements from relative to absolute. Unfortunately in this process he mistakenly fixed the surface level at 18.00 m amsl. This led to miscalculations and as a consequence the data contained in the final reports need to be corrected. As demonstrated by Sürenhagen (1999) the surface level in the area of the pit was at 17.00 m amsl and not at 18.00 m as stated by Woolley (1956: 56). The find-spot elevations given in this paper have been recalculated on the basis of the data recorded in the cards and according to Sürenhagen’s reconstruction.

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Fig. 1.  Photo by G. Benati, reproduced by courtesy of the Trustees of the British Museum.

while as demonstrated by Pittman (in Zettler-Horne 1998: 75–84) the double line diving the registers is a peculiarity of the Royal Cemetery productions. As a consequence this item can be considered an ED III specimen, perhaps imitating older carving styles. U.13722–Level B (Fig. 8, no. 1). This quartzite stamp seal decorated with drill holes was assigned by Woolley to Level A, but according to the object card it was found at 15.40 m amsl, therefore it must be plotted in Level B (for stylistic comparisons cf. Martin 1988: 160, nos. 1, 7). U.13703–Level A (Fig. 1). This shell cylinder seal carved with a geometric design of crosses, triangles and ovals bordered by lines and hatchings was found at 16.40 m amsl. 6 U.13853–Level D (Fig. 3). This seal impression, found at 13. 40 m amsl, was mentioned in the textual description but not illustrated since the impression on 6.  Purely geometric cylinder seals, resembling the peculiar motifs of the JN-ED I periods, are widely attested also during the ED III period (cf. Evans 2007: 621). This is precisely the case of these seals from Levels B-A, safely dated to the ED IIIb period according to the presence of cuneiform tablets, and diagnostic pottery specimens (cf. Marchesi-Marchetti 2011: 95, n. 335). On the revival of geometric patterns in the late ED period see Collon 1987: 23.

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Fig. 2.  Photo by G. Benati, reproduced by courtesy of the Trustees of the British Museum.

Fig. 3.  Photo by G. Benati, reproduced by courtesy of the Trustees of the British Museum.

the obverse was considered almost unreadable (Woolley 1956: 60). The exam of the obverse of the sealing revealed very shallow traces of a motif, probably composed by at least an individual engaged in some activities. Unfortunately the reverse bears no traces of use, therefore it is not possible to speculate about the object on which the sealing was fixed. U.14112–Level F (Fig. 2). This sealing, was enlisted in the reports, though not illustrated. The object card makes it clear that the item was retrieved at 11.60 m amsl, and therefore it should be assigned to Level F, by contrast with Woolley’s report were it is allocated to Level E (Woolley 1956: 61). On the obverse one might distinguish the design of a four legged animal with reclined head and long tail, which was probably part of an animal fight depicting a half rearing lion facing a bull with lowered head. This peculiar scene—amply attested in SIS 4–5 glyptic—might match with some stratified seal impressions from Nippur dated to the end of the ED I period (In’anak Temple Level IX) providing precious chronological insights. 7 Furthermore, traces of functions are preserved on the reverse of the seal impression. 8 Signs of cord and probably of textile are in fact distinguishable on the back of the item. One might assume that the sealing was applied to the neck of a vessel, fixing a textile covering. 7.  On the examples from SIS see Legrain 1936: nos. 215, 217–218, 237–238 (Pit W), no. 242 (Pit D). On Nippur sealings see Hansen 1971: 49–50, pl. 17 a-d. On the reading of In’anak instead of the traditional Inanna see Marchesi-Marchetti 2011. 8.  On the functional analysis of the seal impressions see Moorey 1979; Zettler 1989; Matthews 1993.

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Fig. 4.  Photo by G. Benati, reproduced by courtesy of the Trustees of the British Museum.

Pottery With regard to the pottery, it must be stressed that the ceramic repertoire from Ur is virtually unpublished. Woolley in fact categorized the excavated pots on the basis of standard types and seldom provided photographs of the real objects. 9 The examination of the original records allowed me to assign precise find-spot elevations to the excavated objects as well as to improve the catalog of the finds reported in the publications, bringing to light some unpublished vessels. Consequently some of the pots were examined and re-documented. This evidence provides the basis to challenge Woolley’s typologies and provide a more accurate account of the pottery specimens from Pit F. U.13715b–Level B (Fig. 4). An example of the so-called “bread pan”, a coarse ware bowl with flat base, thick convex walls and three in-turned bent strips joint at the base forming handles, retrieved at 15.50 m amsl. The “bead-pan” was sketchily illustrated and not typed (Woolley 1956: 57, fig. 8d). The original object appears to be more irregular with respect to the sketch, showing much larger handles. These flat bowls with inverted rims appear to be widely attested in the ED III period in Mesopotamia and can be compared to similar examples defined “braziers” or “crucibles” from ED III contexts of the Diyala region, and Abu Salabikh. 10 U.14410–Level G. Hole mouth ovoid beaker of drab clay with rounded base (type JN.13) found at 11.00 m amsl, comparable with ED I examples from Uruk. 11 U.14413a–Level G. Solid-footed goblet (JN. 25), never published before and brought to light only thanks to the object card, which indicates also the exact findspot elevation (11.00 m amsl). This datum permits to rectify the divergent accounts 9.  On Woolley’s typologies see the criticism made by Martin (1982: 153) in reviewing the al-ʿUbaid Early Dynastic cemetery. 10.  Cf. Delougaz 1952: 143, pl. 168, C.011. 201a; pl. 190, D. 201. 201a-b and Moon 1987: 43, no. 203. 11.  Cf. Dittmann (2006: 34, n. 84) who proposed to compare this type to a specimen from operation Lb XII 5 (Pongratz-Leisten 1988: 221, no. 164).

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Fig. 5.  By courtesy of the University Museum of Anthropology and Archaeology of Philadelphia.

on the goblets provenance given by Woolley (1956: 62; 1930: 331). 12 The best comparison for this ED I guide-fossil is with examples from Uruk. 13 U.14417–Level H. Carinated spouted jar of pinkish clay with flat base, excavated at 9.80 m amsl. With respect to the typology drawing (JN.146), the body of this example appears larger and squatter and the rim is of band type. Dittmann (2006: 29, n. 48) correctly paralleled this vessel with similar examples from late JNED I period contexts excavated at Nippur, Jemdet Nasr, Uruk and the Diyala region. U.14418–Level H (Fig. 5). Squat buff jar with flaring neck and high carination, painted with bands of red paint and vertical lines above the shoulders, excavated at 10.00 m amsl. This vessel was taken as model for the creation of type JN. 52, however one might notice how the profile of the object differs from the type drawing. The vertical neck and the thickened base depicted on the drawing do not reflect the shape of the original vase. 14 U.14421b–Level H (Fig. 8, no. 10). Miniature jar, similar to type JN.163. According to Dittmann (2006: 29, n. 42) this juglet might match with Uruk examples. 12. As already noted by Sürenhagen (1999), reading through the 1929–1930 campaign report it appears clear that the goblets were concentrated in Level H, between 10.80 and 9.70 m amsl (Woolley 1930: 331). This account disproves the one given by Woolley in the final report, in which the goblets were allegedly assigned to Level G (1956: 62). The presence of a stratified example of goblet (U.14413) let us correct this conflict, assuming that the goblets were scattered in the layer between 11.00 m amsl and 9.70 m amsl, which corresponds to Levels G and H. 13.  Cf. Pongratz-Leisten 1988: 233, no. 203. On the distribution of the solid-footed goblets see Marchetti in Marchesi-Marchetti (2011: 17, n. 7, 54, n. 150). 14.  Cf. the Penn Museum online database (http: //www.penn. museum/collections/object.php?irn= 237849). In the light of the examination of the original vessel, the parallel drew by Dittmann (2006: 32, n. 72) with small late Early Dynastic jars from Khafajah must be rejected.

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Table 1.  Catalog of examined objects (BM. = British Museum big number; P. = Penn Museum of Philadelphia)a Excavation Number

Object

Stratum Elevation

Bibliography

Museum Number

U.13703

Cylinder seal

A

16.40 m

Legrain 1951: no. 49, pl. 3

BM.122831

U.13711

Cylinder seal

B

15.50 m

Legrain 1951: no. 55, pl. 4

P.31-17-15

U.13714

Bowl

A

-

Woolley 1956: pl. 69 http: //www. penn. museum/collections/object. php?irn=158746

P.31-16-371

U.13715b

Bowl

B

15.50 m

Woolley 1956: 57, fig. 8d

BM.128570

U.13716

Disk

B

15.25 m

Unpublished

P.31-16-517

U.13722

Cylinder seal

B

15.40 m

Legrain 1951: no. 4; http: //www. penn. museum/collections/object. php?irn=258735

P.31-17-24

U.13724

Axe

B

15.55 m

Woolley 1956: pl. 14

P.31-16-476

U.13733

Roundel

C

14.00 m

Woolley 1956: pl. 16

P.31-17-85

U.13739

Vessel

E

12.50 m

Woolley 1934: pl. 243

P.31-16-407

U.13741

Vessel

E

-

Woolley 1956: pl. 65

P.31-16-376

U.13746

Jar lid

F

12.00 m

Woolley 1956: 70, fig. 12b

P.31-16-489

U.13755

Bowl

E

12.60 m

Woolley 1956: pl. 65

P.31-16-451

U.13756

Bowl

E

12.60 m

Woolley 1956: pl. 65

P.31-16-434

U.13757

Bowl

E

12.60 m

Woolley 1956: pl. 65

P. 31-16-435

U.13853

Seal impression

D

13.40 m

Unpublished

BM.

U.14112

Seal impression

F

11.60 m

Unpublished

BM.

U.14410

Pot

G

11.00 m

Woolley 1956: pl. 56

BM.137872

U.14413

Goblet

G

11.00 m

Woolley 1956: pl. 56

P.31-16-235

U.14414

Mace head

H

10.00 m

Woolley 1956: pl. 15

P.31-16-757

U.14417

Jar

H

9.80 m

Woolley 1956: pl. 63

P.31-16-206

U.14418

Jar

H

10.00 m

Woolley 1956: pl. 57 http: //www. penn. museum/collections/object. php?irn=237849

P.31-17-299

U.14421b

Miniature jar H

9.80 m

Woolley 1956: 63, fig. 10 http: //www.penn. museum/collections/object.php?irn=65359

P.31-17-338

U.14429

Jar

G

10.60 m

Woolley 1956: pl. 60

P.31-17-368

U.14438

Spindle whorl H

10.00 m

Unpublished

P.31-16-492

U.14440

Arrow-head

9.00 m

Woolley 1956: pl. 30

P.31-17-225

U.14445

Miniature jar H

9.80 m

Woolley 1956: pl. 59

BM.137873

U.14449

Jar lid

10.00 m

Unpublished

BM.123765

U.14467

Miniature jar K

9.00– 8.50 m

Woolley 1956: fig. 9f

P.31-16-393

U.14475

Pot

9.40 m

Woolley 1956: pl. 59

BM.123763

U.14481

Miniature jar K

8.50 m

Woolley 1956: pl. 69

P.31-16-392

I H

I

a.  Note that the seal impressions U.13853 and U.14112 are kept in the British Museum though they were never cataloged under a specific museum number.

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U.14429–Level H. Fragmentary jar of reddish clay with flat base, excavated at 10.60 m amsl. According to Woolley this jar was categorized as JN.102, a type of single-lugged neckless jars with flat thickened base. The direct observation of the object let us know that this association is untenable, since the shoulder appears to be not flat but slanting. Furthermore, because the mouth and the neck are not preserved, it is not possible to propose a sound association with this or other typologies. 15 U.14445–Level H (Fig. 6). Miniature jar with flat base, vertical neck, triangular rim and narrow shoulder that appears to be a miniature version of the type JN.91. 16 This vessel was found at 9.80 m amsl. U.14449–Level H (Fig. 7). Unpublished drab clay jar lid with three piercings, retrieved at 10.00 m amsl. These peculiar objects are widely attested in Mesopotamia between the late Jemdet-Nasr and the ED I period. 17 U.14467–Level K (Fig. 8, no. 12). Miniature pointed jar found between 9.00 m and 8.50 m Fig. 6.  Photo by G. Benati, reproamsl. duced by courtesy of the Trustees of U.14475–Level I (Fig. 8). Small carinated the British Museum. jar with out-turned rim and pointed base, probably slipped, from 9.80 m amsl. 18 It is worth noting that with respect to the type drawing (JN.86) this pointed jar is characterized by a hole on the shoulder that might let us suppose a lost spout.

Stone Vessels As far as Woolley’s types are concerned, also the stone vessels might be considered as virtually unpublished. 19 Furthermore, as pointed out by Moorey (1994: 43), Ur stone vessels were tentatively identified by eye, therefore the definition given in the reports must be taken cautiously. Some stone vessels, mostly from Level E, were re-examined and documented. Also, through the examination of the records some 15.  By consequence, the comparisons proposed by Dittmann (2006: 32, n. 76) for JN.102 with late Jemdet Nasr period examples from Khafajah (Delougaz 1952: pl. 154, B. 455. 253), and with a specimen from Uruk (Pongratz-Leisten 1988: no. 446), appear not applicable to U.14429. 16.  The jar type JN.91 might be compared with some late JN-ED I period examples from Khafajah (Delougaz 1952: pl. 182, C. 536. 270), Nippur (Wilson 1986: 61: fig. 7: 14) and Jemdet Nasr (Matthews 1992: 8, fig. 3: 2). 17.  For a broad series of comparisons cf. Matthews 2002: 23, fig. 12: 5–9. 18.  According to the find-spot elevation this object can be assigned to Sürenhagen’s “Bauschict” I. 19.  “As was his general custom, Woolley created a typological series for stone vessels from the ‘Jemdet Nasr Graves’ and another for those from the ‘Royal Cemetery’ [. . .], these highly simplified ‘ideal’ shapes give a misleading impression of symmetry and refinement of forms that relatively few vessels actually have” (Moorey 1994: 43).

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Fig. 7a.  Photo by G. Benati, reproduced by courtesy of the Trustees of the British Museum.

inconsistencies of Woolley’s reports can now be corrected. U.13714–Level A (Fig. 8, no. 7). Small bowl of grey steatite with rounded base and outturned rim, considered by Woolley a variant of type RC.112 (Woolley 1956: 176). U.13739–Level E (Fig. 8, no. 8). Small diorite Fig. 7b.  Photo by G. Benati, reprobowl (type RC.22a), found at 12.50 m amsl. This duced by courtesy of the Trustees of the British Museum. object was erroneously cataloged under the exca 20 vation number of U.13737 while, according to the object card, U.13737 is a stone celt. U.13741–Level E. Large bowl of black diorite with flat base and convex profile, identified as type JN.26. U.13746–Level F (Fig. 8, no. 5). Diorite jar lid with three piercings, found at about 12.00 m amsl, similar to the pottery lid previously discussed and sketchily illustrated in the reports. 21 U.13755–13757–Level E. Limestone bowls with convex walls, found at 12.60 m amsl. According to both Sürehagen’s analysis and the direct examination these bowls might be now considered respectively similar to types JN.24, JN.15, JN.19. 22 20.  Woolley 1956: 176. U.13737 and U.13739 were both excavated in Level E. However since the object cards do not report the exact elevations we must rely upon the final reports, in which it is said that U.13737and U.13739 were both excavated on floors detected at 12.50 m amsl (1956: 60). 21.  Woolley 1956: 70, fig. 12, b. 22.  Sürenhagen also noted discrepancies in the reports with regard to the bowls U.13756-U.13757, both typed as JN.19 in the textual description (Woolley 1956: 61), while in the catalogue (1956: 177),

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Fig. 8.  By courtesy of the University Museum of Anthropology and Archaeology of Philadelphia.

U.14481–Level K (Fig. 8, no. 9). Grey gypsum miniature vase, similar to type RC.106, found at 8.50 m amsl. Further work on the stone vessels should consist of chemical analysis in order to clarify the types of stone used. The chemical identification of the stone should give enough data to try to detect patterns in the distribution of such types through the ED period, and perhaps to clarify the source of the stone, since “stone is generally rare in southern Mesopotamia and had to be imported” (Zettler-Horne 1998: 149).  23

Small Finds In order to complete the overview of the materials from the pit, the examination of a bulk of small finds was undertaken. Some of them were published as sketches, while others were completely omitted from the reports. The study of the tools retrieved in the structures of the pit eventually can be used to define the range of domestic activities performed in those buildings. U.13716–Level B (Fig. 8, no. 4). Very small fragment of an obsidian disk, cited in the textual description of Level B finds though not illustrated (Woolley 1956: 58). U.13724–Level B (Fig. 8, no. 2). Stone tool, apparently a stone axe or a grinding stone, found at 15. 55 m amsl. U.13733–Level C (Fig. 8, no. 3). Bone roundel with a cross pattern incision, resembling a token, found at 14.00 m amsl. U.14414–Level H (Fig. 8, no. 11). Mace head of red painted drab clay, found at 10.00 m amsl, probably used as mortar or pestle. U.13756 is considered of type JN.15. These changes are considered correct in the light of the direct examination undertaken at Philadelphia, which also allows me to assume that U.13755 seems to match with type JN.24 rather than JN.22 (1956: 177). 23.  A similar set of analyses on Ur stone vessels was performed at the Penn Museum on a bulk of examples from the Royal Cemetery (Zettler-Horne 1998: 149–160), as well as at the British Museum and at the Ashmolean Museum (Oxford), on Royal Cemetery and Jemdet Nasr Cemetery examples (Moorey 1994: 59).

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U.14438–Level H (Fig. 8, no. 6). Stone spindle-whorl, found at 10.00 m amsl, neither mentioned or illustrated in the reports. U.14440–Level I. Copper leaf-shaped arrow-head, excavated at 9.00 m amsl.

Conclusions The examination of the unpublished archives and materials enabled me to improve the available documentation on Pit F Early Dynastic sequence. Further work is however required to produce a full reconsideration of these contexts. Firstly, in order to fully join spatial and artifactual information, a new set of digital plans and sections and eventually 3D models will be prepared. The dataset thus obtained will be crucial for achieving a better control over the stratigraphy and the location of the finds within each building phase. Second, a contextual approach will be used to analyze the materials. The assemblages will be considered primarily on the basis of their stratigraphic position. Then in order to further clarify chronological issues, the classes of artifacts will be evaluated separately according to their intrinsic features and on a regional comparative perspective. Given that Pit F is an unbroken sequence, the stratified pottery and glyptic repertoire can provide key information to shed more light on Ur internal chronology. Also, the functional examination of the finds will eventually give insights on the activities carried out in these contexts. The revised stratigraphic, chronological and contextual frame of Pit F will be used to challenge, correct and complete the analyses offered by Woolley (1956) Sürenhagen (1999) and Dittmann (2006). Last, it is hoped that the results of this study would bring new elements to discuss the diachronic development of some artifact classes in southern Mesopotamia. In this light specific issues concerning the beginning of the of the ED period at Ur—marked by Level H in Pit F—will be dealt with in a forthcoming article (Benati forthcoming); while the complete overview of the Pit F sequence will be completed in the wider frame of a doctoral project encompassing all the available evidence on archaic Ur.

References Benati, G. forthcoming  The Beginning of the Early Dynastic Period at Ur. Iraq 76. Collon, D. 1987 First Impressions. Cylinder Seals in the Ancient Near East. London: British Museum. Delougaz, P. 1952 Pottery from the Diyala Region. Oriental Institute Publications 63. Chicago: The Oriental Institute. Dittman, R. 2006 Bemerkungen zum Ur, Pit F. Baghdader Mitteilunghen 37: 23–44. Evans, J. M. 2007 The Square Temple at Tell Asmar and the Construction of Early Dynastic Mesopotamia, ca. 2900–2350 b.c.e. American Journal of Archaeology 111: 599–632. Gockel, W. 1982 Die Stratigraphie und Chronologie der Ausgrabungen des Diyala-Gebietes und der Stadt Ur in der Zeit von Uruk/EannaIV bis zur Dynastie von Akkad. Rome: Giorgio Bretschneider.

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Frankfort, H. 1939 Cylinder Seals. A Documentary Essay on the Art and Religion of the Ancient Near East. London: Gregg. 1955 Stratified Cylinder Seals from the Diyala Region. Oriental Institute Publications 72. Chicago: The Oriental Institute. Hansen, D. P. 1971 Some Early Dynastic I Sealings from Nippur. Pp. 47–54 in Studies Presented to George M. A. Hanfman, Fogg Art Museum. Harvard University Monographs in Art and Archaeology 2. Edited by Mitten et al. Mainz am Rhein: von Zabern. Legrain, L. 1936 Archaic Seal-Impressions. Ur Excavations 3. London-Philadelphia: The Trustees of the Two Museums. 1951 Seal Cylinders. Ur Excavations 10. London and Philadelphia: The Trustees of the Two Museums. Marchesi, G., and Marchetti, N. 2011 The Royal Statuary of Early Dynastic Mesopotamia. Mesopotamian Civilizations 16. Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns. Martin, H. P. 1988 Fara: a Reconstruction of the Ancient City of Shuruppak. Birmingham: Martin. Matthews, R. J. 1992 Jemdet Nasr: the Site and the Period. The Biblical Archaeologist 55: 196–203. 1993 Cities, Seals and Writing: Archaic Seal Impressions from Jemdet-Nasr and Ur. Materialen zu den frühen Schriftzeugnissen des Vorderen Orients 2. Berlin: Gebr. Mann. 2002 Secrets of the Dark Mound: Jemdet Nasr 1926–1928. Warminster: British School of Archaeology in Iraq. Moon, J. 1987 Catalogue of Early Dynastic Pottery. Abu Salabikh Excavations Vol. 3. London: British School of Archaeology in Iraq. Moorey, P. R. S. 1979 Unpublished Early Dynastic Sealings from Ur in the British Museum. Iraq 41: 105–120. 1994 Ancient Mesopotamian Materials and Industries: the Archaeological Evidence. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Pongratz-Leisten, B. 1988 Keramik der Frühdynastischen Zeit aus den Grabungen in Uruk-Warka. Baghdader Mitteilungen 19: 177–319. Sürenhagen, D. 1999 Untersuchungen zur relative Chronologie Babyloniens und angrenzen der Gebiete von der ausgehendenʻUbaidzeit bis zum Beginn der Frühdynastisch II-Zeit. 1. Studien zur Chronostratigraphie der süd babylonischen Stadtruinen von Uruk und Ur. Heidelberger Studien zum Alten Orient 8. Heidelberg: Heidelberger Orient Verlag. Wilson, K. 1986 Nippur: The definition of a Mesopotamian Ğamdat Nasr Assemblage. Pp.  57–89 in Ğamdat Naṣr–Period or Regional Style? Papers Given at a Symposium Held in Tübingen November 1983. Tubinger Atlas des Vorderen Orients, Beiheft–Rehie B/62. Edited by U.Finkbeiner and W. Röllig. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Woolley, C. L. 1930 Excavations at Ur, 1929–1930. Antiquaries Journal 10: 315–343. 1934 The Royal Cemetery. A Report on the Predynastic and Sargonid Graves Excavated Between 1926 and 1934. Ur Excavations 2. London-Philadelphia: The Trustees of the Two Museums. 1956 The Early Periods: a Report on the Sites and Objects Prior in Date to the Third Dynasty of Ur Discovered in the Course of Excavations. Ur Excavations 4. London-Philadelphia: The Trustees of the Two Museums.

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Zettler, R. 1989 Pottery Profiles Reconstructed from Jar Sealings in the Lower Seal Impression Strata (SIS 8–4) at Ur: New Evidence for Dating. Pp. 369–393 in Essays in Ancient Civilization Presented to Helene Kantor. Studies in Ancient Oriental Civilization 47. Edited by A. Leonard and B. Beyer Williams. Chicago: The Oriental Institute. Zettler, R., Horne, L. (eds.) 1998 Treasures from the Royal Tombs of Ur. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology. Zimmerman, P. C. 1998 A Critical Reexamination of the Early Dynastic “Royal Tomb” Architecture from Ur. MA dissertation. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania.

Reading Figurines from Ancient Urkeš (2450 b.c.e.) A New Way of Measuring Archaeological Artifacts, with Implications for Historical Linguistics Rick Hauser

International Institute for Mesopotamian Area Stuides, St. Paul I have recently come to see my own view of material culture as limited. This essay, here somewhat revised from my paper (RAI 57) on which it is based, invites consideration of the archaeological artifact as embodied object, a cultural presence rather than an inert and compromised fragment of past lifeways. 1 This paper is preliminary to an extended essay on the ways classification in archaeology might contribute to the study of “. . . particular historical phenomena, specifically, the domestication of animal species, the migration of human populations, and trans-regional relationships linking culture to culture.” (von Dassow, personal communication, 23 june, 2011) David Anthony, who has co-authored seminal essays on the domestication of early equids, characterizes the void between the two disciplines—archaeology and linguistics—as a chasm most Western archaeologists feel cannot be crossed. Many would say that language and material culture are completely unrelated, or are related in such changeable and complicated ways that it is impossible to use material culture to identify language groups or boundaries. . . . We cannot expect any correlation with material culture. (Anthony 2007: 101)

As it turns out, my work on the figurine corpus from Royal Building AK—a storehouse—at Urkeš was caught up in this discussion almost three decades ago. I did not at that time realize the implications of my own work. I return to the subject in this essay.

The Site First, the setting (fig. 1). Urkeš (Urkesh, Tell Mozan) is an archaeological site in northern Syria, what remains today of a thriving urban complex that was at its apex in the middle-to-late third millennium b.c.e.. Halafian artifacts have been recovered in the earliest levels, thus extending the life of the settlement over a millennium into the past. Urkeš continued to thrive, although transformed, in Mitanni 1.  I wish to keep my paper within the realm of archaeology but to remain mindful of how the discipline is informed by linguistic considerations. Chapman’s work on the shattered artifact (2007) is a first consideration, something of a metaphor, in the revaluation I here undertake. The part implies the whole. So do linguistic borrowings in ancient languages echo some larger presence.

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Fig. 1.  Urkeš, the archaeological site in the 21st century c.e.

Fig. 2.  Urkeš, a regional presence in the third millennium b.c.e.

times. Later, more than a millennium after its heyday, this urban center, mythological and administrative capital of the Hurrian culture, declined and was eclipsed forever. Piotr Steinkeller has said that “the importance of the discovery of Urkeš . . . can hardly be overstated . . . It marks a new phase in our study of Hurrian civilization.” (Steinkeller 1998: 75; see fig. 2, which situates Urkeš among other municipalities and states of the ancient Near East). Although as a senior staff member, I was intimately involved in the plans and projects of the Urkeš expedition, I understood little of the larger context, for my own knowledge of history and cultural movement was limited. It was far and away enough for me to focus on the day-to-day problems of excavation of the units I supervised; and to try and puzzle out possible function, to say nothing of mere identification, of the terra-cotta objects that were daily coming to light.

The Study Eventually I brought some order to my work. Through careful documentation, an innovative—I dare say—strategy for measuring the objects, and rigorous evaluation standards for secondary characteristics, I eventually worked out methodology and typology in tandem. In this enterprise, I was immeasurably helped by consultation with Sándor Bökönyi, the late noted paleozoologist; and the sensitive renderings and observations of graphic artist, Claudia Wettstein. 2 2.  Support for my study of the figurine corpus at Urkeš and my participation in the ongoing excavations is due to the unfailing generosity of the Expedition Co-Directors, Giorgio Buccellati and Marilyn

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This work became the basis for my book, Reading Figurines (Hauser 2008). The study is pertinent here for it is solidly founded on a system of classification of excavated objects. In much the same manner do philologists mine tantalizing bits of the tissue of language of past times in order to determine the descent and/or declension of phonemic elements. I was made vividly aware of the passionate debate surrounding the search for linguistic clues to the Indo-European homeland a decade after I began studying the figurines recovered in the Royal Storehouse at Urkeš, when Giorgio Buccellati, the expedition co-director, brought Vyacheslav Ivanov to see me. [Hauser’s work provides] a figurative counterpart to Ivanov’s. . . . The identification of Fig. 3.  6 genera, 3 equid species, fired in clay. clear distributional patterns in the proportions of body types, and the potential correlation to known animal morphologies . . . sets the whole question of identification on the basis of a clearly articulated formal analysis. (Buccellati 1998: 3)

It turned out that Ivanov had followed with great interest the various discoveries of animal representations at Urkeš, particularly the equids.

Reading Figurines at Urkeš Now, a remarkable number of figurines were recovered from the first floors of the Royal Storehouse and from two layers immediately atop them. There were numerous animal representations—one in ivory—but most in clay. These are the objects I study. They comprise a corpus that eventually numbered 335 examples, since substantially augmented by subsequent excavation (see fig. 3, a composite figure of the Urkeš figurine corpus). It was superficially clear, even without measurement and study, to what genus many of these animal representations belonged. Each genus told its own story–and sometimes, they documented the morphological change that comes with domestication. Kelly-Buccellati. Nothing in my various studies of the material culture at Urkeš would have come to print, had it not been for their dedication to my professional growth.

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Fig. 4.  2 figurines, 2 different genera, absent identifying secondary characteristics, most appendages missing or broken.

But sometimes, these fragmentary objects (fig. 4) were little more than a nondescript cylinder—“dog-bones”!—as some of my less-generous colleagues observed. Yet they, too, seemed to be different one from the other. Those who crafted them must have intended to represent more than just one animal type and they did so repeatedly; the same shapes recurred, although it was not clear at first to what species they belonged. How to identify what type was represented by which shape? There had to be a key that would allow us to “read” these sometimes nondescript yet various terra-cotta objects.

Animals Observed Contemplate for a moment, if you will, some of the equid examplars found at Urkeš (fig. 5). This image does indeed document differences amongst Equus species-E. asinus-E. hemionus (absent in fig. 5, but illustrated Fig. 5.  Equus, as variously represented at Urkeš. in fig. 3, second from bottom, on right) and E. caballus. Yet without the consistent system of measurement and classification of secondary characteristics that I have developed, this image provides only an impression of difference. Equally important was the relation of such representations to the whole matter of animal domestication at Urkeš. See, for instance, fig. 6, a seal impression that comments metaphorically on the actual domestication of equids at the site.

The Impossible Bargain of the Išar-Beli Sealing It is indeed rare to encounter an animal that presents itself to a god. 3 3.  Juris Zarins, the noted commentator on equid domestication, has recently proposed that this figure represents a royal personage, not a god. Based on the historical context of another sealing linked to Naram-Sin’s daughter, Tarʾam-Agade, Zarins ventures that this figure is Šar kalli-šarri  himself (personal communications July, October 2013).

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Fig. 6.  An onager, a foal, servitors, and a deity (king?), pieced together from shattered fragments of impressions in clay.

This equid is not a horse, in spite of the short, pert ears and a lean torso, but rather an onager, the “donkey of the steppe.” Strong and wily, untamable by all accounts. This attitude of spirited obeisance before a god’s throne is remarkable, then, as if the animal were offering itself, in an impossible bargain of domestic servitude. Such things can happen in heaven, of course, where the gods live. For all the ambiguities in the Išar-beli scene—he was the seal-owner, possibly steward to the queen (Buccellati and Kelly-Buccellati 2002: 25)—I embrace it. The figurines from ancient Urkeš recovered at Tell Mozan are part of the same story as the Išar-beli equid. They are caught up in the sweeping story of animal domestication and human domination of animal stock over 4,000 years ago in Northern Syria. “These numerous figurines belonging to . . . the last quarter of the third millennium [b.c.e.] make it clear that the horse was extremely important for the life of the society. Particularly interesting seem horse figurines showing the harness and thus documenting the use of horses and transportation. . . . The Hurrian data found by the Mozan/Urkeš excavations are quite exceptional from this point of view.” (Ivanov 1998: 145)

Fig. 7.  Normal standing quadruped; sections taken as might a veterinarian researcher.

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The Template 4 Over the next several years, as we recovered more examples of different animal types, it became apparent to me and to my associate, Claudia Wettstein, that there was in fact an underlying pattern that could be documented by consistent measurement and by documentation of variables. A template (fig. 7) was developed for taking artifact measurements, between and among which different ratios and proportions obtain. Some seventeen different correlations are diagnostic, as taken on a quadruped in normal standing position.

Fig. 8.  6 planes/views are recorded as possible for each genus.

I derive these correlations from any one of six views (fig. 8). This manner of representation is not typical of figurine studies. In most studies, only the length and height, sometimes the width of the object, are given. Think how you measure a pot. By contrast, I have chosen to use classical topographic anatomical terms of veterinary science in order to emphasize that the figurines represent observed, living animals, not arbitrary creations by inexperienced artisans or non-professionals or children.

Equids at Urkeš If domestication is the story told by the figurines of ancient Urkeš, the equids are its avatar. They are numerous, they embody different species, they are idiosyncratic and particular in the manner of their representation. 4.  As researchers, we are called to more rigorous standards of visual literacy. Absent measurement as described briefly in this section, observation is reduced to impressionism–“Well, it looks like a horse, so it must be. . . .”

Reading Figurines from Ancient Urkeš (2450 b.c.e.) Now, all members of genus Equus share a body type that approaches 5 : 4 : 6 in proportional conformationforequarters, torso and hindquarters. Species of equid are further distinguished by striking secondary characteristics. Asinid types have been recovered roughly 3 times—and hemiones 4 times—more frequently than E. caballus. The true horse is rarely found at Urkeš.

Equus Type III Caballine All examples of Equus TYPE III—the caballines— have long manes, including one that Bökönyi imagined to be “flowing in the wind” (fig. 9, lower left). At least one of these has a forelock that falls over (fig. 10), indicated by cross-hatching that overlays a “halter.” Of course, harness and/ or halter point to domestication or demonstrate at the very least a wish to control— tame—an animal (fig. 11). Signs of human intervention exhibited by the equid representations at Urkeš are universal and varied—as, a striking example of nostril-slitting in a rendering by Renaissance master Pisanello (fig. 12). The practice continues to this day, and is considered by some to be an aid to breathing; the slit nostrils of Equus 204 from the Urkeš corpus

Fig. 9.  Equid representations found at Urkeš.

Fig. 10.  Domesticated equid, with forelock.

Fig. 11.  Halter/tether.

Fig. 12.  Nostril-slitting.

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are marked (fig. 3) and are visible, although less obviously, in fig. 5 (both exemplars, lower left). To all appearances, the program of domestication was successful, for it was vigorously pursued for over several hundred years, as recent discoveries tell us. It cannot have been easy, as Clutton-Brock tells us (1992: 22); and must have required at the outset considerable courage and knowledge of animal behavior. The herdsmen of Urkeš possessed these skills. The figurine corpus tells us this.

The Spread of Proto-Indo-European 5 Now let us return to the matter of language and culture as they might be traced in the archaeological record. Renfrew, in somewhat avuncular vein, describes the rather cozy mythological world of historical linguistics–a golden land of proto-Indo-European society and belief which is rooted neither in time or space. It is rather like the Dream Time of the Australian aborigines, or the Camelot of Arthurian fable: so much so, indeed that it seems almost churlish to ask such prosaic questions as ‘when?’ or ‘where?’ (Renfrew 1992: 286)

But “when?” and “where?” are precisely the questions which archaeologists in their prosaic way like to ask, and are equipped to answer. Renfrew will go on to say that it is the inception of farming some thousands of years earlier than when Urkeš flourished that is the key to the entire IndoEuropean question—his so-called “wave” theory of migration and transformation of indigenous populations. And indeed, the language of domestication does permeate Proto-Indo-European. For their part, V. V. Ivanov and Tamaz Gamkrelidze have, over decades, sought to establish the location of an Indo-European homeland. Their reconstruction of the classic paradigm, “Proto-Indo-European,” has been achieved through a comparative study of modern Indo-European languages. Their observations synchronize rather nicely with those of Renfrew, whose reconstruction, even though it antedates the Urkeš material by several millennia, sets the stage for the Urkeš domestication program (Anthony 2007: 97). Their proposed setting for the Indo-European homeland (fig. 13) is very different from that proposed by Marija Gimbutas who, with Childe, set the Indo-European heartland in the Russian steppes of the Don and the Volga Basin. The dialects comprising “Proto-Indo-European” that emanate from this territory contain on the one hand, a majority of words relating to agrarian activities (both tools and species), and on the other hand, words that denote plants and landscapes in mountainous country. This is where my work intersects that of Gamkrelidze and Ivanov. 5.  The location of the P.I.E. homeland is raised here for a single purpose: to serve as backdrop to my considerations of how material culture—specifically, equid figurines recovered in the Royal Storehouse at Urkeš and wear facets on undamaged portions of horse teeth at Botai—might relate to language (a sometimes eloquent if unwieldy manifestation of culture) in the Early-Middle Bronze Age of the Ancient Near East. I did not ever anticipate that this discussion would settle the question of the location of the Proto-Indo-European homeland; nor did I presume, with less than a lifetime of study, to master the intricacies of how the various languages before languages (as one might say) intertwined. This is the province of expert linguists. Archaeologists have their own conundrums to debate–informed, if we are lucky, by the interdisciplinary insights of colleagues.

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Fig. 13.  Proto-Indo-European homeland in Anatolia (Gamkrelidze and Ivanov proposal).

The Equids of Urkeš and the Indo-European Presence Fundamental to Ivanov’s understanding of language diffusion is his conviction that animal husbandry was a tangible marker of the Indo-European presence. 6 The Hurrian name of horse is of utmost importance . . . for Indo-European origins and migrations insofar as it is related to the domestication and use of horse. (ibid. 148) 7

The controversy attendant on Ivanov’s thesis evolved in a sphere apart from my work-space at Urkeš, yet his contention was given physical substance by the methodology which I used to determine that a substantial number of the terra-cotta representations we found at Urkeš were equids in the first place. Although it is not clear to what extent the Hurrian cultural influence could be found at this early stage in Asia Minor, in the next period the horse training in the Hittite Empire was apparently at least in part influenced by the Hurrian-Aryan tradition of Mitanni . . . In the light of the Mozan/Urkeš discoveries it seems possible that this Mitannian tradition was not determined only by the Aryan influence, but might be to some extent continuing the older Hurrian customs, as the Urkeš period precedes this Hurrian-Aryan symbiosis of the second millennium [b.c.e.]. (ibid. 147–148) 6.  “Knowing that we are looking for a society with a specific list of material culture items (to say nothing of transmission of technology, as von Dassow might say [2008: 68]) . . . is a great help in locating the Proto-European homeland.” (Anthony 2007: 99) 7.  Ivanov’s recent work on the matter (2007: 128–129, n. 8) features an exhaustive compendium of North Caucasian words for horse, some never before attested.

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For his part, Ivanov noted that the Urkeš figurine corpus documented . . . for the first time the use of . . . horses in a palace economy and everyday life . . . for the last part of the third millennium [b.c.e.]. (Ivanov 1998: 147)

As I have noted, figurines recovered at Urkeš represented different equid genera, some wild, some domesticated working horses. They also documented the morphological change that accompanies domestication. These artifacts were recovered from strata above the first floors in the Royal Storehouse. Of a sudden, Ivanov found himself tantalizingly close to the elusive Indo-European presence he sought. In effect, our equid representations were so many “words” that embodied in the physical world a presence Ivanov had documented only linguistically. If artisans had crafted the image, so must there have been a physical entity that was its original; and since the morphological changes that accompany domestication were amply documented in the figurines, then so, too, must have the process existed. Some 15 years earlier, lack of knowledge about the Early Bronze Age did not permit us to elucidate more completely the nature of the historical ties between . . . regions or to reconstruct [an important] missing archaeological link between . . . cultures. (Gamkrelidze and Ivanov 1985: 75)

If that link were to be found, its reconstruction would make it possible to envision a continuous line of migration of Indo-European culture from the Near East across Central Asia to the historical regions of Eastern Europe, the new homeland of the Indo-Europeans. (ibid.) In the equid representations of Urkeš, Ivanov saw that missing link. [w]e may say now that the chronology of the domestication of horses (starting with the fourth millennium bc), [and] the spread of early Indo-European dialects . . . makes it possible to seek for important synchronic intersection of these events around the border of the fourth and third millenniums [b.c.e.]. (Ivanov 1998: 156–57)

Gamkriledze and Ivanov situated their homeland in “the South-East part of Anatolia, close to North-East Syria and North area of Mesopotamia” (Ivanov 2007: 128, after Gamkrelidze and Ivanov 1990: 114). Thus, for Ivanov and Gamkrelidze, Anatolia is the source of the linguistic diffusion we collectively designate as “ProtoIndo-European.”(Cauvin 2000: 138). That is to say, right next to Urkeš. Migrations and cultural diffusion carried the Indo-European protolanguage from the homeland throughout the region and beyond (fig. 13). Anthony does not discard outright all of the linguistic markers Gamkrelidze and Ivanov use to help pinpoint their geography, even though he has reason to challenge the authors’ location of the Indo-European homeland. It turns out instead that Anthony has compelling archaeological evidence for the possible domestication of the horse in the Pontic-Caspian steppes (fig. 15; see also fig. 16 for superimposition of the region; after Anthony 2007: 84, fig. 5.1). And when did this occur? Sometime after 4800 b.c.e., an ample 2000 years before Equus caballus appears at Urkeš (Anthony 2007: 200). Most likely, the hapless creatures provided a cheap source of winter meat.

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The event is also marked by unusual mortuary practices involving the joining of horse heads and/or lower legs with those of cattle and sheep in human funeral rituals. Bone carvings of horses appear as well (ibid. 201). Later (3700–3000 b.c.e.), in the Botai settlement of northern Kazakhstan, horses were used to hunt horses (Anthony 2007: 216), still antedating the panoply of domestication activity at Urkeš by half a millennium and more. Bit wear—significant wear faceting, “like a horse ridden with a ‘soft’ bit of rope or leather”—is the index of such activity (see fig. 15; from Anthony 2007: 218, fig. 10.11) According to Anthony, “archaeology of the steppe region between the Cauca- Fig. 14.  Proto-Indo-European homeland in Pontic-Caspian sus and the Urals, north region (Anthony proposal). of the Black and Caspian Seas—the Pontic-Caspian region—. . . reveals a set of cultures that fits all the requirements of the reconstructed [PIE] vocabulary.” Also, “archaeological evidence for migration from this region into neighboring regions, both to the east and to the west, is well-established (ibid. 99–100). In the two possible versions I have presented here, it is archaeological evidence that “pegs” the location of the Proto-Indo-European homeland. A recent paper on the origin and spread of “horse domestication” in the Eurasian steppe (Warmuth et al. 2012) tends to corroborate Anthony’s version, establishing the antiquity of the husbanding practice–“a scenario . . . [that] suggests that horse domestication originated in the western part of the Eurasian steppe and that domestic herds were repeatedly restocked with local wild horses as they spread out of this area.” This proposal “unites evidence from archaeology, mitochondrial DNA, and Y-chromosomal DNA” (ibid.). In the case of Urkeš, archaeological evidence shows that equids were present; morphological change as represented in terra-cotta representations of Equus documenting domestication occurred—and the program that brought this change about persisted long after Tupkish, endan of Urkeš, and his household were little more than shadows in memory.

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BOTAI #37 general provenience

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The celebrated linguist qualifies his most recent observation somewhat with the locution “as if ” (ibid. 133); constructing a metaphorical possibility in place of certainty, seemingly to forfend the objections that continue to be visited upon his theory. Anthony, while acknowledging that debate about the location of the Indo-European homeland will continue, nonetheless senses “a chord . . . emerging from the different notes” (ibid. 459)

Language and People

60 mm bevel

It must be said that the real fabric of language itself is elusive. Without speech or present speakers, reconstruction is speculative at best. Thus it is Fig. 15.  “Bit-wear”—significant wear faceting: evidence that perilous to track migrations and displacement of these equids were ridden. peoples though using such ephemeral evidence. Now, “[a] language is not a people,” von Dassow (2008: 68) observes. Languages are not biologically inherited entities but are rather acquired “cultural traits . . . utilized and transmitted by population groups”, just as are any number of other cultural traits. Given this perplex of influences difficult to untangle, linguistic criteria, she concludes, are at best “imprecise tools for identifying ethnic groups . . . and their movements.” (ibid.) The use of these tools may reveal [rather] patterns of acculturation, features of sociopolitical organization, or transmission of technology and associated goods and services.” (ibid.)

We might think that these modest determinations are reward enough for our research, for such documentation of the minutiae of culture may be clues aplenty to permit reasonable speculation about the make-up of culture. What cannot with any measure of certainty be determined is the physical displacement of populations along prescribed routes–migration. For one thing, our speculations would certainly benefit from texts in determinable context; and we would expect such witness repeatedly. Archaeology must additionally tell us how language relates to everyday lifeways across a cultural spectrum. This is the promise that the figurines of Urkeš held. And that explains V. V. Ivanov’s sustained excitement about the diminutive Equus representations from Tupkish’s Royal Storehouse.

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Fig. 16.  Archaeological finds relating to possible horse domestication “peg” two locations for the Proto-Indo-European homeland.

Pegs: Linking Material Culture and Language The evolution of language across cultures needs such “pegs”. Without the reality of material culture—context—script is self-referential, an actor’s soliloquy gone begging for public performance. One thing is for sure, as Anthony tells us, The more places a narrative is pegged to the facts, and the more different kinds of facts from different sources are employed as pegs, the less likely it is that the narrative is false. (ibid. 465)

Anthony’s quite brilliant reconstruction, with Brown, of equid domestication in the Pontic-Caspian region is one such archaeological “peg”. So, too, is my methodology for identifying genera of animal representations a “peg” permitting speculation about the domestication of species. The animal figurines from Urkeš figure amongst “a vast array of archaeological facts” (ibid.) to which we as archaeologists and linguists have access today, and may be seen as so many tools that eventually will permit analysis of quite complex issues of language dispersal, form and other acculturated phenomena. It is in that spirit and with a more canny knowledge of this very complex issue that I have persisted in the elaboration of my remarks at RAI57. My future studies in material culture will attempt to make palpable a larger context embodied in the humble artifacts I have studied for so long. Public archaeology and conservation will certainly figure in this research.

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I hope to undertake this project in partnership with colleagues in curatorial institutions in the Middle East and Francophone Africa. Together, I believe we may find a way to catalog and to link linguistic pattern, material culture and cultural memory. 8 Our aim will be to craft a model for future research, an alternative to the arid compendia that those of us who catalog objects all too often offer as substantive contributions to scholarship. How linguistic variability may inform this research and how this variability may be reflected in the migrations of peoples is—and has been—a matter for specialists to debate. I marvel that my research—so parochial, in its way—may have a disputed part to play in this unfurling panoply of knowledge. 8.  As epitomized in the work of Merlin Donald (see, for example, Donald 2005 [1998]).

References Anthony, D. W. 2007 The Horse, the Wheel, and Language: How Bronze-Age Riders from the Eurasian Steppes Shaped the Modern World. Princeton and Oxford: Princeton University Press. Buccellati, G., and Kelly-Buccellati M. 2002 Tarʾam-Agade, Daughter of Naram-Sin, at Urkeš. Pp. 11–31 in Of Pots And Plans. Papers on the Archæology and History of Mesopotamia and Syria presented to David Oates in Honour of his 75th Birthday. Edited by L. A.-G. Werr, J. Curtis, H. Martinet et al. London: Nabu Publications. Buccellati, G., and Kelly-Buccellati M., eds. 1998 Urkeš and the Hurrians. Studies in Honor of Lloyd Cotsen. Bibliotheca Mesopotamica 26. Urkeš/Mozan Studies 3. Malibu: Undena Publication. Cauvin, J. 2000 [1994]  The Birth of the Gods and the Origins of Agriculture. Cambridge (UK): Cambridge University Press. Chapman, J., and Gaydarska, B. 2007 Parts and Wholes Fragmentation in Prehistoric Context. Witney, Oxon (UK): Oxbow (Alden Press). Clutton-Brock, J. 1992 Horse power: a history of the horse and the donkey in human societies. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Donald, M. 2005 [1998]  Material Culture and Cognition: Concluding Thoughts. Pp. 181–187 in Cognition and Material Culture: the Archaeology of Symbolic Storage. Edited by C. Renfrew and C. Scarre. Cambridge (UK), McDonald Institute for Archaeological Research: 181–187. Gamkrelidze, T. V., and Ivanov V. V. 1985 The Migration of the Tribes Speaking the Indo-European Dialects from their Original Homeland in the Near East to Their Historical Habitations in Eurasia. Journal of IndoEuropean Studies 13: 49–91. 1990 The Early History of Indo-European Languages. Scientific American Magazine 262 (3): 110–116. Hauser, R. 1998 The Equids of Urkeš What the Figurines Say. Pp. 63–74 (Plates VII–XII ) in Urkeš and the Hurrians. Studies in Honor of Lloyd Cotsen. Bibliotheca Mesopotamica 26. Urkeš/Mozan Studies 3. Edited by G. Buccellati and M. Kelly-Buccellati. Malibu: Undena Publication.

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2008 [2007]  Reading Figurines: Animal Representations in Terra Cotta from Royal Building AK at Urkeš (Tell Mozan). Malibu: Undena Publications. Ivanov, V. V. 1998 Horse Symbols and the Name of the Horse in Hurrian. Pp.  145—66 in Urkeš and the Hurrians: Studies in Honor of Lloyd Cotsen. Bibliotheca Mesopotamica 26. Urkeš/Mozan Studies 3. Edited by G. Buccellati and M. Kelly-Buccellati. Malibu: Undena Publication. 2007 The Indo-European Homeland in the Near East: New Evidence. Bulletin of the Gerogian National Academy of Sciences 175 (3): 127–137. Renfrew, C. 1992 [1987]  Archaeology and Language: The Puzzle of Indo-European Origins. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press. Steinkeller, P. 1998 The Historical Background of Urkeš and the Hurrian Beginnings in Northern Mesopotamia. Pp. 75–98 in Urkeš and the Hurrians. Studies in Honor of Lloyd Cotsen. Bibliotheca Mesopotamica 26. Urkeš/Mozan Studies 3. Edited by G. Buccellati and M. Kelly-Buccellati. Malibu: Undena Publication. Von Dassow, E. 2008 State and Society in the Late Bronze Age: Alalah under the Mittani Empire. Bethesda, MD: CDL Press.

Acknowledgments I am grateful to IIMAS—The International Institute for Mesopotamian Area Studies for permission to reprint images from my work on the figurines of Urkeš, a map and a photograph of the excavations at Tell Mozan from the Urkeš website; to Giorgi Bedianashvili of the Georgian National Museum and the American Research Institute of the South Caucasus (ARISC) for a complete copy of Ivanov’s synthesis of work on proto-Indo-European in the Bulletin of the Georgian National Academy of Sciences (2007, vol. 175, no. 3, Map 1, 128); to John Soderberg, University of Minnesota Department of Anthropology, for suggestions regarding clarification of my intent in this essay; to Princeton University Press for permission to reprint a map showing the ProtoIndo-European homeland (Fig. 5.1, 84 in Anthony 2007) and of Botoi bit-wear (Anthony 2007: 218, Fig. 10.11). to Thomas C. Moore, illustrator, for permission to reproduce and to adapt a map showing the path of presumed migrations of the Indo-European protolanguage from the homeland (as seen in the Bulletin of the Georgian National Academy of Sciences [Ivanov 2007, vol. 175, no. 3, Map 1, 128], after Scientific American Magazine, March, 1990: 112 “Migrations and Cultural Diffusion”); current contact information for Mr. Moore is not available. The work of Vyacheslav Ivanov was first brought to my attention, as noted, by Dr. Giorgio Buccellati, a prescient mentor. Only recently have I come back to the matter and become aware of the controversies that swirl about the topic, thanks to interdisciplinary studies in linguistic anthropology. The considerations I entertain here are my own and may not necessarily be those of my colleagues at Mozan. My work at Urkeš would not have been possible without the assistance and support of the Directorate General of Antiquities and Museums, in particular Director General, Dr. Abd el-Razzaq Moaz, the (then) new Director of Excavations, Dr. Michel Maqdissi, and the Director of the Office in Hassaka, Mr. Abd el-Mesiah Bakdou. My heartfelt gratitude is also extended to friends from the surrounding region who taught me how to dig. The excavations at Tell Mozan (ancient Urkeš) began in 1984 through a concession of The Directorate General of Antiquities and Museums, The Ministry of Culture, The

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Syrian Arab Republic and are under the direction of Marilyn Kelly-Buccellati and Giorgio Buccellati. Their caring vision kindles my admiration and guides my work today. The major supporters between 1984 and 2010 were The Ahmanson Foundation, The Ambassador International Cultural Foundation, The American Cultural Center (Damascus), The Catholic Biblical Association, The Cotsen Family Foundation, The Council of Research, Academic Senate (UCLA), The Samuel H. Kress Foundation, The Mellon Foundation, The National Geographic Society, The National Endowment for the Humanities, The Neutrogena Corporation, Rotary Club Conegliano, The Samuel H. Kress Foundation, The San Carlos Foundation, The L. J. Skaggs and Mary C. Skaggs Foundation, The Steinmetz Family Foundation, Syria Shell Petroleum Development (B.V.), The Urkeš Founders, Vartanian Oilfield Services, The World Monuments Fund—with the institutional participation of The Cotsen Institute of Archaeology (UCLA), The Getty Conservation Institute, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, L’Opificio delle Pietre Dure, Firenze, Università degli Studi e Centro Scavi (Torino) Beginning in 2010, major support for the Mozan/Urkeš Archaeological Project has been provided by the Gulfsands Urkeš Exploration Fund. A project of IIMAS-The International Institute for Mesopotamian Area Studies and IIMAS-Italia Istituto Internazionale per la Mesopotamia e l’Alta Siria. (For a complete bibliography and an electronic edition of most titles, please visit www.urkesh.org.)

Wooden Carvings of Ebla: Some Open Questions Rita Dolce Rome

I.  The Documentation: What Are We Dealing With? The documentation which I wish to discuss here, the wooden carvings from Royal Palace G in Ebla, represents a unique discovery in the context of the cultures of Syria and Mesopotamia during the 3rd millennium; even recently 1 it was cited as the most ancient attestation of works of this type. These are also rare works because they are made of wood, a highly perishable material; in particular, the finds from Ebla consist of the “decorative” parts of objects, more specifically luxury moveable furnishings according to the theory advanced some time ago by P. Matthiae for some partial reconstructions; so far no alternative theories have been advanced. 2 The surviving wooden carvings are thus simultaneously structural and decorative parts maybe of luxury furnishings used to adorn interiors. 3 There are 534 finds, most in the form of tiny fragments and whose original coherence is difficult to understand. They represent the remains of an artistic production of carved reliefs, in half-relief and in the round, 4 of small and medium-sized figures: measuring about 15 cm for the only virtually complete figure (TM.74.G.1000) to just over 1 cm for a curl of female hair (TM.74.G.739) to the 6 mm of part of a foot (TM.74.G.763) with 4 toes visible (fig. 1a–c). The most frequently represented figures are human, animal and, to a lesser extent, mythical (in broad categories) (fig. 2a–c). Author’s Note: I would like to thank both Sara Pizzimenti and Danilo Renzulli for their assistance in organizing the research currently in progress. 1.  Castel and Joannès 2002: 537; Crawford 1996: 34–5. 2. Matthiae 1976: 198; Matthiae 1977: 14; Matthiae 1975: 467, 487–88, pls. 424–25; Matthiae 1979a; the reconstruction proposal for the two items of furniture is illustrated in Matthiae 1995: 105–12. The items in question are the remains of a table and the back and arms of a chair with decorative scenes of lions attacking bulls, fights between heroes and between heroes and lions speared through the stomach, lions attacking caprids. 3.  The use of wood for the interior furnishings and decorations of important architectural monuments, from palaces to tombs, is known in Mesopotamia from the Uruk IV period and for the following three millennia from archaeological remains and written sources; some small but significant remains come from city-states contemporary with the Syrian kingdom such as Kish, Ur and Mari: Moorey 1994: 358–59. 4.  Matthiae 2008: 46, pl.17.

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Fig. 1.  Tell Mardikh-Ebla. The Palace G. Wooden carvings from L.2601: a) TM.74.G.1000; b) TM.74.G.739; c) TM.74.G.763 (Copyright MAIS).

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Fig. 2.  Tell Mardikh-Ebla. The Palace G. Wooden carvings from L.2601: a) TM.74.G.1012+1013; b) TM.74.G.400; c) TM.74.G.653 (Copyright MAIS).

The remains portraying what have been definitively identified as human subjects, male and female, belonging to this corpus are currently being studied; there are a total of 137 fragments, about 26% of the entire documentation recovered. During the course of the study these will be supplemented by the large number of fragments of clothing (about 112, nearly 21%) which raise the proportion of pieces belonging to human subjects to 47% of the total (fig. 3). Naturally this does not mean that roughly half the subjects of the artefacts in question were human, considering that numerous remains of clothing must have belonged to figures surviving in a fragmentary state or figures which have been lost. A majority of the fragments belong to male subjects, especially bodies and feet whilst fewer heads have been identified; only a few specimens are preserved to a significant extent (fig. 4a–c). Few, by contrast, are the fragments of female figures; these generally belong to heads and faces with elaborate hairstyles. Only in one case do we have a significant portion of a very fine silhouette of a woman (fig. 4d). I am providing this information to indicate that one aspect of the research method which I am developing concerns the reconstruction of the original size of individual works starting from the largest remains: this method has hitherto yielded some indications that the works were not homogeneous in size, with subjects of the same

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gender being represented at different scales. Some obvious examples are the remains of male or female figures and parts of clothing which suggest a fairly significant difference between the original heights of complete figures compared to the size of the few best preserved carvings up to 15 cm (fig. 5). Were this finding to be confirmed for a large number of fragments belonging to the corpus currently being studied, we would be able to reconstruct series of figures at different scales and perhaps portraying different subjects, thus extending the range of variables to the types of “furnishings” to which the works belonged. According to the analyses 5 the types of wood used belong to the pomoideae species, a family which is difficult to identify with accuracy but which can be circumscribed to pear or apple. These types of wood are still used for carvings because they have a fine Fig. 3.  Presence of human subjects grain making them suitable for this type of in the corpus of wooden carvings from Palace G. work. 6 The wood is associated with mother of pearl, used for decorative inserts held in place using bitumen, both in individual subjects, especially animals, and for the patiently reconstructed decoration of fillets and frames, as in the well-known instance of part of a chair 7 (fig. 6). The carvings thus formed an integral part of luxury artefacts made with a high level of technical skill and quality, produced by the palace workshops of classic early Syrian Ebla when a large number of specialized woodworkers (alongside metalworkers) are documented in the Archive texts (for example, between a minimum of 140 and a maximum of 260 woodcarvers and carpenters are documented as working for the Palace. . .). 8

5.  The analyses were carried out in 2006 by the Laboratorio di Archeobotanica e PaleoecologiaDipartimento di Beni Culturali at the University of the Salento run by Prof. G. Fiorentino on a limited sample of seven specimens, of varying theme and size (TM.74.G.384, 425, 643, 718, 721, 762, 865); two are of human male subjects (TM.74.G.643 and TM.74.G.762). 6.  An open issue, and one difficult to resolve, is the absence of these tree species among the woods documented both by palaeobotanical remains and by the texts from the Ebla Archives, where the most frequently mentioned species for furnishings and craft-works are box and poplar: Conti 1997: 64–5 and passim; Pasquali 2005: 6. It is worth noting that apple wood is mentioned frequently in the texts from Presargonic Lagash for various types of pegs and certainly for those used in cart-ribs and wagons: Powell 1992: 114. An important fact, again supplied by the Eblaite texts, concerns the frequent purchase by the Palace at Ebla of “resins and woods from the Mediterranean coast, unavailable in the Ebla region”: Biga 2006: 342; and of the scented essences of Mediterranean scrub: Biga 2011: 85–6. 7.  Matthiae 1989: 108–9, fig. 37. 8.  Matthiae 2008: 137.

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Fig. 4.  Tell MardikhEbla. The Palace G. Wooden carvings from L.2601: a) TM.74.G.998+999; b) TM.74.G.1011; c) TM.74.G.1017; d) TM.74.G.1016 (Copyright MAIS).

II.  Place, Conditions and Context of Discovery: What Area of the Royal Palace Are We In? The wooden carvings were found in the North-West Quarter of Palace G (fig. 7), excavated in the 1970s at the time the northernmost sector of the Palace complex to be brought to light. 9 Two parallel rooms were uncovered, oriented east-west and at the time apparently not communicating with one another: 10 L.2601 on the floor of which all the wooden fragments were found, pressed against the east wall in two lots, one in the south-east corner and one towards the north; and L.2586 in which an assemblage of tablets was found dating to the final phase of the kingdom of Ebla, before its destruction in around 2300 b.c. 11 9.  In the 1974 excavation campaign: Matthiae 1976: 193, note 9. 10. At the time it was thought that these two rooms were linked to the tower already partially brought to light during the 1973 excavation campaign: Matthiae 1976: 193. 11.  Biga 1988: 286; Biga 1988–89: 591.

Wooden Carvings of Ebla: Some Open Questions

Fig. 5.  Reconstruction of the original heights of complete figures compared to the size of the few best preserved carvings.

Fig. 6.  Tell Mardikh-Ebla. The Palace G. Wooden carvings from L.2601: armchair with decorative mother-of-pearl inserts (Matthiae 1989: fig. 37).

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Fig. 7.  Tell Mardikh-Ebla. Isometric view of Palace G. Focus on the North-West Wing.

The resumption and broadening of the excavations after 2000 in the North Wing in the adjacent northern and western sectors allowed us firstly to bring to light the communication between the two rooms, an entrance on the north-south axis (width about 1.80 metres) (fig. 8) and to recover from room L.2601 itself a series of bronze artefacts, at least two of which may belong to the closing system of a wooden door or door leaf (a hinge and a sort of spring-based closing system–TM.74.G.1171, TM.74.G.1172–with remains of wooden beams were found in the room); secondly, to bring to light two rooms further north (L.8606 and L.8605) (fig. 7) on whose floors lay the remains of the high quality artefacts of the royal workshops of Ebla, from inlays to tesserae made of mother of pearl (about 200), used for the ornamental inlays of artefacts (fig. 9), to the gold leaf used to cover polychrome works and the statuettes in the round of limestone bulls and the classic skirts-kaunakès in relief and half relief which make this Quarter not a peripheral part of the G Complex but a central part of the palace system; thirdly, to determine the spatial relations between all of these rooms, the congruity of the finds with the cultural horizon of Palace G and the probable function of some of them; finally, during the two most recent excavation campaigns in this sector (2006–2007), to bring to light two rooms (L.9583, L.9330) representing the westernmost excavated portion of what survives of the Royal Palace; these rooms yielded some miniature artefacts of obvious value (for their materials, technique, subjects), considered to be of special symbolic meaning in the conception of Eblaite kingship. 12 12.  Aside from the reconstruction hypothesis recently proposed for two miniature female statuettes as a single artefact, perhaps a standard: Matthiae 2009; Matthiae 2010: 180, fig. 93. It is worth noting

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Fig. 8.  Tell Mardikh-Ebla. The North-West Wing of Palace G. Focus on the entrance between L.2601 e L.2586.

Fig. 9.  Tell Mardikh-Ebla. The Palace G. Mother-of-pearl inlays from L.8606 (TM.02.G.1034+1037) (Copyright MAIS).

We are thus dealing with an important sector of the Royal Palace which did not communicate with either the space of the Main Court to the south, the “Audience that the standing female figure (TM.07.G.231) in wood, silver and steatite, unfortunately missing its feet, may have been as tall as about 15 cm, a very similar height to that of the most intact wooden carving in the corpus, interpreted as the en of Ebla (TM.74.G.1000). The seated female statuette is much smaller, about 1/3 the height of the other.

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Court”, 13 or the private residential and service area to the east, 14 the West Unit; in my opinion it may have had an independent entrance (now lost) on the north-northwest side, through a courtyard, rather than only via a single route leading towards the temple of Kura on the Acropolis. 15 My theory is that this northern sector of Palace G was only apparently isolated from the remainder of the palace Complex. One open issue concerns the function of the North Quarter, beyond its royal nature; the texts recording commodities for luxury artefacts found in the room (L.2586) next to that where the wooden carvings lay (L.2601) 16 can help us to evaluate both the context and the works. 17

III. What Was the Function of the North Quarter and the Wooden Artefacts? According to philologists 18 the inscribed tablets found in room L.2586 19 on the floor near the base of a jar form a special archive drawn up by scribes other than those working in the central Chancery and which are dated on a prosopographic basis to the most recent phase of documentation of the Archives, shortly before the kingdom’s destruction. 20 In most cases we are dealing with texts concerning deliveries of valuable objects in gold and silver (and sometimes of various types of textiles) to foreign kings (trade/ exchange, tribute) and, particularly interestingly, to high functionaries in the palace administration. Most of these concern artefacts in silver and gold identified either as harnessing and reins or as items certainly connected with the decorative apparatus of carts, chariots (for parade, luxurious chariots as we know from other texts on the funerary equipment of high functionaries and the prominent male and female members of the court). 13.  Appropriately stressed by Matthiae 2008: 46 as an open question, which in my mind suggests the plausibility of a circulation towards the North and West to and from this sector: L.8605 may be part of a large space, a sort of access courtyard leading both to the North Unit and the northern staircase and to the sanctuary contemporary with the Palace, the Red Temple. For further considerations see note 15. 14.  This is a Quarter of the Palace lying on the eastern side of the Acropolis: again see Matthiae 2008: 46. 15.  Matthiae 2008: 75 claims that the North Wing was directly connected with the Red Temple, perhaps the house of the city god Kura and according to the texts home to the palatine cult; however, in keeping with the plan of Royal Complex G, we can nonetheless assume that a third court provided access to the whole area under consideration here. The supposed communication to the North especially of room L.2601 directly towards the staircase leading to the Red Temple may in my opinion represent part of the inner circulation of the entire North/North-West Quarter; see Matthiae 1976: 196; Matthiae 2008: 46. 16.  It is now accepted that this room is the primary context of the wooden remains, as recently repeated by P. Matthiae: Matthiae 2010: 75. 17.  Matthiae 1976: 196; Matthiae 1977: 6 has proposed that these rooms had a residential function and that at least the room where the wooden carvings were found was accessed from the L-shaped staircase leading to the sacred area on the Acropolis (area D), in existence from the Classic Early Syrian period as definitively ascertained during the excavation campaigns of the 1990s; the sacred nature of the area is also attested by the broadening of more recent research on the Acropolis: see Dolce 2001: 15, notes 22, 23; Matthiae 2010: 392–96. 18.  Biga 1988: 285–86; Biga 1988–89: 591; Archi 1996: 65. 19. Matthiae 1976: 193; Matthiae 1977: 6; Matthiae 2008: 46 counting 42 documents; see Archi 1996: 65, where the documents are estimated to consist of 32 tablets plus some smaller fragments. 20.  Matthiae 1979a: 27 and note 39 describes the location and conditions under which the tablets were found, mentioned more briefly elsewhere: Matthiae 2010: 75.

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The texts mention the en of Ebla (but only with his title, as is often the case), and the queen only once, whilst the name of the powerful prime minister of the last phase of the kingdom of Ebla, Ibbi-Zikir recurs on numerous occasions as the recipient of valuable works, as does that of his son Dubuḫu-Ada; Ibbi-Zikir ran the administrative, military and political apparatus before Ebla’s destruction, in a rapid ascent to personal power; his son can be considered the designated successor to this power. The logical relationship postulated by M. G. Biga between the contents of the texts and the presence in the adjacent room (L.2601) of the decorative wooden carvings from luxury works, in the broad sense, led her some time ago to assume that we are dealing with a place where artefacts used to adorn equids and chariots were kept; 21 and, I should add, artefacts which were valuable both intrinsically and as a status symbol. In my opinion this theory is supported by further data, both archaeological and textual, acquired in recent years and which, together with other features, I am currently analysing. To summarize: On the textual side, during a parallel research project conducted by myself on society in Ebla in light of the results of philological studies 22 I noted that the analytical descriptions of funerary gifts from texts of the main Archive in the Main Court clearly documented the presence in tombs (usually belonging to the elites of course) of decorative elements for chariots and the equipment of equids. 23 The chariot which accompanied the deceased minister Ibrium is special: it was made of wood and had wheels with precious decorations 24 rivalling that of the queen mother in luxury. 25 It seems that the victor over Mari, Ibbi-Zikir himself, received as a reward for his deeds a set of reins and a chariot with wheels decorated in gold, alongside other valuable artefacts. 26 Finally, the texts record the custom of the last king of Ebla, Ishar-Damu, who used to give to foreign queens and princesses and the court ladies of Ebla objects of the harnessing of the animals which drew ceremonial chariots, and to men decorative elements of the bits of equids and chariot wheels. 27 On the archaeological side, one of the two rooms (L.9583) in the North-West Wing uncovered during the final excavation campaigns in that area (2006, 2007) yielded, among other finds, alongside the two statuettes in gold and silver already 21.  Biga 1988: 286–87. 22.  Dolce 2014; for the data from the texts to which I refer see especially Biga 2007–08; Archi 2002 and Pasquali 2005. 23.  Biga 2007–08: 261, from L.2769; the carrying on of research on the basis of data gleaned from the texts on textiles and the deliveries of metals has fairly recently led to the identification of the functionaries in charge of equipping the equids and chariots for the royal notables and for minister Ibbi-Zikir himself: Biga 2010: 55. 24.  Biga 2007–08: 261, noting that the funerary gifts for Ibrium are the richest recorded for a male figure, although the gifts destined for the deceased king are currently not known. 25.  The richest gifts hitherto mentioned by the Eblaite texts are those of a woman, queen Dusigu, the mother of the last reigning en, Ishar-Damu; the gifts include a chariot decorated with silver and gold and equipment for the two equids which drew it: Biga 2007–08: 261; Biga 2010: 54. 26.  Such as a ceremonial dagger decorated with gold, valuable clothing, a gold plate: Podany 2010: 58, note 109; among the similar gifts, again given to Ibbi-Zikir for his victory over the towns of Agagalish and Baḫuni and recorded in the accounts of textiles and metals, a ceremonial chariot again stands out together with weapons, a belt and a dagger decorated with gold; see Biga 2010: 48. 27.  Biga 1995: 145–46.

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Fig. 10.  Tell Mardikh-Ebla. The Palace G. Bronze artifact from L.9583 (TM.06.G.906).

mentioned, a bronze artefact consisting of a ring with a central shaft measuring 8 cm in diameter and two appendices on the outer surface with triangular slits (fig. 10). 28 This artefact is reminiscent of the rein-rings of the royal wagons buried with the illustrious deceased at Ur in around the mid-3rd millennium b.c. and is also of similar size. 29 Fig. 11 Kish. Rein rings from the Y Cemetery However the closest point of com- (Watelin and Langdon 1934: pl XXV). parison, in my opinion, is with the reinrings from the carts buried in necropolis Y at Kish, where one specimen in particular seems similar in typology to the object from Ebla, a single ring divided into two halves by the shaft (fig. 11). 30 The rein-ring from Kish was the object of the attention of Watelin for the little figurine of a deer topping it; this is an unusual species of draught animal in Mesopo28.  TM.06.G.906; this artefact has recently been reconstructed by P. Matthiae as a composite work interpreted as the top of a standard: Matthiae 2008: 53, 56, pl. 30; Matthiae 2009: 277, note 49, 281, fig. 8; Matthiae 2010: 180, fig. 93. 29.  Woolley 1934: 78, pls. 39b, 166 (U.10439), equipment of the chariot-sledge from the tomb of queen Shubad (PG/800); the two rein rings are in silver whilst the equid, termed ‘ass’ by L. Woolley, is in electrum; diam. of rings: 5.6 cm; Woolley, ibidem: 301, pls. 34b, 167a (U.10551) from tomb PG/789 (ascribable to the owner of the seal found inside, Abargi); the two rein rings and the bullock are made of silver; diam. of rings: 7.5 cm. 30.  Watelin and Langdon 1934: 33, pl. XXV, XXV, 3 in particular; Marchetti 2006: 101 notes that the artefacts are made of copper.

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tamia; according to the Author it may have been imported from Syria, where it was still to be found in the wooded region of Aleppo (and Palmyra). 31 I therefore ask if the rein-ring from Kish topped by the figurine of a deer may indicate that the typology of the ring was originally Syrian. 32 The last facts to which I wish to call attention concern firstly the importance in the Eblaite economy of special animals used to draw chariots (with two and four wheels), as indicated by the Eblaite texts: there was a flourishing trade with the regional centre of Nagar in horse-hybrids (the “anše-BAR×AN/kunga”), 33 animals also attested at Urkesh, Umm el-Marra, probably ancient Tuba, and Tell Beydar/ Nabada. 34 It is clear that these hybrids were true luxury goods used to display the distinctive power of the elites, both in life and after death, just like artefacts made of valuable materials. Indeed, their price is immeasurably higher than that of other types of equids (such as IGI-NITA), further proof of their value. 35 31.  Watelin and Langdon 1934: 33. 32.  Marchetti 2006: 98–102 discusses cemetery Y at Kish and the “cart burials,” including wagons and the rein rings found; as concerns the ongoing debate on the chronology of necropolis Y and especially the date of the Red Stratum, the author states that the only sound evidence for dating the “cart burials” are the rein rings from the funerary equipment, compared with the aforementioned ones from Ur; an E.D.IIIb date is proposed (ibid.: 101–2). 33.  Oates 2006: 401–4 and bibliography; Archi 1998: 9–11. J. Oates argues convincingly that this intense trade between Ebla and Nagar prepared for closer relations, culminating in the inter-dynastic marriage between a princess from Ebla and the son and heir to the king of Nagar. It is also noted that marriages took place not only between princesses and the heirs to kingdoms but also with daughters of the ministers of Ebla, supporting the existence of a parallel and growing power detained by the class of high functionaries running the Eblaite state, which in my opinion achieved true control over the affairs of the kingdom: see Dolce 2014; significant evidence to this effect already emerges from the texts on funerary and other gifts: see Biga 2007–8; Archi 2010: 7–9. 34.  Oates 2006: especially 403–4; the most recent excavations at Umm el-Marra attested a significant number of equid-hybrids in this town: remains of buried newborn and adult equids, sometimes together with infants, recur in the burial area on the site’s Acropolis, probably in connection with funerary rituals whose symbolic and social significance remain hypothetical: Schwartz 2007: passim, especially 51–52; Schwartz 2009. The hybrids from Umm el-Marra may be remains of the prized species BAR×AN / KUNGA, displayed by the elites of the time, from Ebla to Nabada, Urkesh and Nagar; at Urkesh the presence of equid hybrids as an elite commodity explicitly linked to the display of royal power is attested by the valuable figurative documentation of the kingdom’s royal glyptics from the Akkadian period: Buccellati and Kelly Buccellati 2002: 22–25. The BAR×AN / KUNGA species is thought to be a cross between donkeys and onagers according to the textual data; this species is probably recognizable among the equid remains from Umm el-Marra, as suggested by the analysis of the skeletons of the animals found at this site: Weber 2009; Schwartz 2009: 25. This site, likely the ancient Dub or Tuba which already recurs in the Archive texts of Early Syrian Ebla (Matthiae 1979b; Catagnoti 1991: 28), must have had an unequal relationship with the Eblaite kingdom, in my opinion perhaps due precisely to its equid resources, judging from the large number of specimens found in burials; it is still present in the textual documentation of major Middle Bronze cities, from Mari to Alalakh. See Schwartz 2009: 18; Schwartz 2007: 40, 43–44. Still uncertain is the date of the equid remains from Tell Chuera, assigned to the EB on the basis of the archaeological contexts but not confirmed by scientific analysis: Vila 2010: 607–8. According to the author even the now certain presence and circulation of equid hybrids in the Near East during the 3rd millennium b.c., noted by Vila in a series of data, including many sites from the Euphrates valley and Umm el-Marra for the most recent discoveries, requires further verification (Vila 2010: 611 and ff.). The value both intrinsic and as a status symbol of equids is clearly exemplified in the case of Ebla by the impressive number of equid hybrids, both BAR.AN and IGI.NITA forming part of the dowry of the daughter of the last ruling royal couple, married to the heir to the throne of Kish: Biga 2009: 45–46. 35.  Conti 1997: 26–27. The recurrent depictions of equids and wagons used for transportation in the clay artefacts of Syria during the last phase of the EB, above all from the steppe regions, indicate an

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Secondly, the clear mention in texts of the Third Dynasty of Ur of a storehouse at the site used for carts, with an annexed registration office, which M.G. Biga has already indicated as a significant parallel for an interpretation of the rooms of the Palace at Ebla in which the wooden carvings and the archive were found (L.2601 and L.2586). 36 On the other hand, at some of the Syrian sites just mentioned for the epigraphical documentation on hybrids and chariots, excavations identified areas probably destined for breeding and keeping these valuable animals, as at Nagar, or the texts suggested them, as at Tell Beydar; in the case of Nagar, in the FS area which held a temple and spacious courtyards, located near the city’s North gate, the excavators think there may have been a sort of station or caravansary. 37 Taken together, the evidence currently available may suggest us that the North Wing of Palace G in Ebla was particularly important in the economy of the Royal Palace, and was likely spatially independent from the other official sectors of the Royal Complex, immediately to the south; that it is quite unlikely that the two rooms containing the archive and the wooden carvings served a residential purpose, reserved for the kingdom’s high functionaries; 38 rather these may have been rooms used to store (temporarily) some of the most important works of palace art destined for the kingdom’s elite and its foreign peers. Finally, that the 534 fragments of wooden carvings which speak to us of epic and mythical sagas of kingship, recounted in the “open-work” reliefs may have belonged to several types of artefacts including–if not especially–those described and recorded in the texts found in the next-door room, shedding a different light on the functional purpose of the whole Quarter. increase in the use and circulation of these animals and attest their widespread distribution from Tell Sweyhat to Tell Halawa and Tell Selenkahiyeh: see Moorey 2001: 344–46. 36.  Biga 1988–89: 591, note 5. 37.  Oates 2006: 401–2, 404; a complex used to house the animals of “foreign caravans” reaching Ebla or rather a station for equids in the Old Syrian city has been identified in the structures adjacent to the Southern Palace brought to light during the 2002 and 2003 excavation campaigns: Matthiae 2004: 326–28, 338–40, fig. 29. That there was a structure used for the economic control and care of equids definable as a stables during the Age of the Archives is suggested by the Ebla texts and thought by Matthiae to be located in the Sa-Zakix: Matthiae 2008: 136. Ongoing philological research on the Archive texts, especially the textile records, has opened up new horizons for our understanding of the equipment and objects relating to the decoration of chariots and hybrids; it has also highlighted the social and economic importance of these goods; see recently Pasquali 2010: 181–85; see also notes 34, 35. 38.  The elite nature of the two rooms used by high dignitaries of Ebla has recently been reproposed: Matthiae 2008: 46; see also note 17.

References Archi, A. 1996 Gli Archivi di Ebla (ca. 2400–2350 a.C.): Archivi dell’Oriente antico. Archivi e Cultura 29 N.S.: 57–86. 1998 The Regional State of Nagar According to the Texts of Ebla. Subartu IV: 1–15. 2002 Jewels for the Ladies of Ebla. ZA 92: 161–99. 2010 Rank at the Court of Ebla. Pp. 1–9 in Your Praise is sweet. A memorial Volume for Jeremy Black from Students, Colleagues and Friends. Edited by H. D. Baker et al. London. Biga, M. G. 1988 Archive L.2586. Pp. 285–87 in Eblaite Personal Names and Semitic Name-Giving. Edited by A. Archi. ARES 1. Roma.

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1988–89  La struttura ed il funzionamento dei magazzini nei sistemi centralizzati in Mesopotamia ed in Siria: alcuni dati dei testi del terzo millennio. Pp. 585–94 in L’interpretazione funzionale dei dati in paletnologia. Giornate di studio in ricordo di Salvatore Maria Puglisi. Edited by A. Palmieri. Origini 14. Roma. 1995 I rapporti diplomatici nel Periodo Protosiriano. Pp.  140–47 in Ebla. Alle origini della civiltà urbana. Edited by P. Matthiae et al. Milano. 2006 Some Thoughts on Fairs, Temples and Weights. Pp. 341–45 in Weights in Context. Bronze Age Weighing Systems of the Eastern Mediterranean: Chronology, Typology, Material and Archaeological Context. Proceedings of the International Colloquium, Rome 22nd–24th November. Edited by M.E. Alberti et al. Studi e Materiali 13. Roma.    2007–8 Buried among the Living at Ebla? Funerary Practices and Rites in a XXIV Cent. b.c. Syrian Kingdom. Pp. 249–75 in Atti del Convegno Internazionale “Sepolti tra i vivi-Buried among the Living”, Roma, 26–29 Aprile 2006. Edited by G. Bartoloni and M.G. Benedettini. Scienze dell’Antichità 14. Roma. 2009 On Equids, Other Animals and Veterinarians in the Texts of the Ebla’s Archives of Ebla. Pp.  41–56 in Animals in the Old Syrian Civilizations. Edited by D. Tabbaa and M. Al Hayek. Hama. 2010 War and Peace in the Kingdom of Ebla (24th Century B.C.) in the First Years of Vizier Ibbi-zikir under the Reign of the Last King Išar-damu. VO, Quaderno V: 39–57. 2011 La lana nei testi degli Archivi reali di Ebla. Pp. 77–92 in Studi Italiani di Metrologia ed Economia del Vicino Oriente Antico dedicati a Nicola Parise in occasione del suo settantesimo compleanno. Edited by E. Ascalone and L. Peyronel. Studia Asiana 7. Roma. Buccellati, G. and Kelly-Buccellati M. 2002 Tar’am-Agade, Daughter of Naram-Sin, at Urkesh. Pp. 11–31 in Of Pots and Plains. Papers on the Archaeology and History of Mesopotamia and Syria presented to David Oates in Honour of his 75th Birthday. Edited by L. al-Gailani Werr et al. NABU Publications. London. Castel, C. and Joannès, F. 2002 Mobilier. Pp.  537–39 in Dictionnaire de la Civilisation Mésopotamienne. Edited by F. Joannès. Paris. Catagnoti, A. 1991 Le royaume de Tubâ et ses cultes. Pp. 23–28 in Florilegium Marianum: Recueil d’études en l’honneur de Michel Fleury. Edited by J.-M. Durand. Paris. Conti, G. 1997 Carri ed equipaggi nei testi di Ebla. MiscEbl 4: 23–71. Crawford, H. 1996 The earliest evidence from Mesopotamia. Pp.  33–39 in The Furniture of Western Asia Ancient and Traditional. Edited by G. Hermann. Mainz. Dolce, R. 2001 Ebla after the ‘Fall’. Some Preliminary Considerations on the EB IVB City. DamM 13: 11–28. 2014 The Ebla Families. Pp. 193–206 in La famille dans le Proche-Orient ancien: réalités, symbolismes, et images. Proceedings of the 55th R.A.I., Paris, 6–9 July 2009. Edited by L. Marti. Winona Lake. Marchetti, N. 2006 La Statuaria Regale nella Mesopotamia Protodinastica. Con un’appendice di Gianni Marchesi. Roma. Matthiae, P. 1975 Syrische Kunst. Pp.  466–73, 487–88 in Der Alte Orient. Edited by W. Orthmann. PKG XIV. Berlin. 1976 Ebla à l’époque d’Akkad: Archéologie et Histoire. CRAIBL 1976: 190–215. 1977 Le Palais Royal et les Archives d’Etat d’Ebla protosyrienne. Akkadica 2: 2–19. 1979a Ebla in the Period of the Amorite Dynasties and the Dynasty of Akkad: Recent Archaeological Discoveries at Tell Mardikh (1975). MANE I/6. Malibu. 1979b DU-UBki di Mardikh IIB1=TU-BAki di Alalakh VII. Studi Eblaiti I: 115–18.

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1989 Ebla. Un impero ritrovato, ii ed. Torino. 1995 Ebla. Un impero ritrovato, iii ed. Torino. 2004 Le Palais Méridional dans la Ville Basse d’Ebla Paléosyrienne: Fouilles à Tell Mardikh (2002–2003). CRAIBL 2004: 301–46. 2008 Gli Archivi Reali di Ebla. Roma. 2009 The Standard of the maliktum of Ebla in the Royal Archives Period. ZA 99: 270–311. 2010 Ebla. La città del trono. Torino. Moorey, P. R. S. 1994 Ancient Mesopotamian Materials and Industries. Oxford. 2001 Clay Models and Overland Mobility in Syria, c. 2350–1800 b.c. Pp. 344–51 in Beiträge zur Vorderasiatischen Archäologie Winfried Orthmann gewidmet. Edited by J.-W. Meyer et al. Frankfurt am Main. Oates, D. and Oates, J. 2006 Ebla and Nagar. Pp. 399–423 in Ina kibrāt erbetti. Studi di Archeologia orientale dedicati a Paolo Matthiae. Edited by F. Baffi et al. Roma. Pasquali, J. 2005 Il lessico dell’artigianato nei testi di Ebla. QdS 23. Firenze. 2010 Les noms sémitiques des tissus dans les textes d’Ebla. Pp. 173–85 in Textiles Terminologies. Edited by C. Michel and M.-L. Nosch. Oxford and Oakville. Podany, A. H. 2010 Brotherhood of Kings. Oxford. Powell, M. A. 1992 Timber production in Presargonic Lagaš. BSA 6: 99–122. Schwartz, G. M. 2007 Status, Ideology and Memory in Third-millenium Syria: “Royal” Tombs at Umm el-Marra. Pp. 39–68 in Performing Death. Social Analyses of Funerary Traditions in the Ancient Near East and Mediterranean. Edited by N. Laneri. OIS 3. Chicago. 2009 Recent Archaeological Results on the Uses and Symbolism of Animals in Bronze Age Syria. Pp. 15–28 in Animals in the Old Syrian Civilizations. Edited by D. Tabbaa and M. Al-Hayek. Hama. Vila, E. 2010 Les vestiges de chevaux à Tell Chuera. Premières datations. Pp. 607–21 in Kulturlandschaft Syrien. Zentrum und Peripherie. Festschrift für Jan-Waalke Meyer. Edited by J. Becker et al. AOAT 371. Münster. Watelin, L. C. and Langdon, S. 1934 Excavations at Kish IV. Paris. Weber, G. 2009 New Research on a “Royal” Animal of Ancient Syria. Pp. 29–40 in Animals in the Old Syrian Civilizations. Edited by D. Tabbaa and M. Al-Hayek. Hama. Woolley, C. L. 1934 Ur Excavations II. The Royal Cemetery. London and Philadelphia.

The Aesthetic Lexicon of Ebla’s Composite Art during the Age of the Archives An Innovative Visual Representation of Words and Concepts in Early Dynastic Image Technology Marco Ramazzotti Rome

I. Introduction The Ebla Royal Archives are well known in the modern historiography of the ancient Near East because of their relevance for understanding historical and political events and processes of IIIrd millennium northern Syria (fig. 1). 1 Many scientific contributions could be quoted in this specific field, since the Ebla clay tablets constitute more than fifty per cent of the second half IIIrd millennium written sources. In the present article, I would like to point out additional relevance of these textual sources: their importance for the knowledge of IIIrd millennium b.c. Syrian and Mesopotamian aesthetics 2 of surpassing work. 3 The Greek term aesthesis is translated as “perception” and although aesthetics is a branch of modern philosophy prevalently dealing with the ideal nature of the “sublime” and “beautiful”, the perception could be understood also (from the Latin perception) as the semiotic process of attaining awareness of the environment by organizing, reflecting and interpreting sensory information. 4 What is contextual in this research is the construction of a hypothetical relationship between written “words and concepts” of handcraft objects and their iconographies (archaeologically documented) focusing on the Royal Palace G discoveries. 5 On a synchronic axis, this synthesizes some technological aspects of the contemporary Syrian and Mesopotamian artistic world, since there is a visible analogy between the traditions of many Early Syrian 6 and Early Dynastic composite masterpieces. 7 At the same time, on the chronological axis, this specific frame will contribute to generate and detail a specific set of artistic and symbolic values 1.  Matthiae 2008; 2010. 2.  Winter 1995: 2569–2580; Winter 2002: 2002: 3–28; Ramazzotti 2012a: 341–71. 3.  Winter 2003: 403–421; Ramazzotti 2012b: 53–72. 4.  Ramazzotti 2010a: 50–87. 5.  Matthiae 1979: 249–73; 1980: 99–120; 1989: 25–56; 1993: 18–19; 2007: 1–23. 6.  The relative chronology of the Early Syrian period is based on historical, cultural, material and artistic data: see Dolce 1983: 19–84; Matthiae 1989: 163–69; Dolce 1991: 237–69; Archi–Biga 2003: 1–44; Matthiae 2009: 165–204. 7.  Ramazzotti 2012: 53–72; 2013b: 161–216.

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Fig. 1.  New Tablets from the Temporary Archives in the Throne Room of the Royal Palace G. © La Sapienza University of Rome (Missione Archeologica Italiana in Siria).

interposed between the Sumerian and Akkadian worlds, 8 different from both and unavoidably interrelated. 9

II.  The Early Syrian and Early Dynastic Comprehension of the Image Observing the extraordinary Early Syrian composite “statues and inlays” with the lens of some selected words from the Ebla Lexicon we can distinguish four main semantic spheres of image production, which can be summarized as follows: II.1. The Early Syrian epistemic nature of the image; II.2. The Early Syrian technical nature of the image; II.3 The Early Syrian appearance of the image; II.4 The Early Syrian quality of the image. Each sphere can be intended also as a part of a Eblaite perceptive system of “humans” and “gods’, a system which was contemporary to the 8.  On the cognitive character of the ancient Mesopotamian figurative system see Ramazzotti 2010: 309–326; Ramazzotti 2012: 53–72; Ramazzotti 2012: 341–71. 9.  Matthiae 1982: 111–23; Nissen 1986: 189–96; Ramazzotti 2011: 341–75.

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Fig. 2.  The queen mother Dusigu from the Northern Quarter of the Royal Palace G. © La Sapienza University of Rome (Missione Archeologica Italiana in Siria).

Early Dynastic III perceptive system, but similarly and deeply rooted in the Sumerian conception of mankind and its reproduction. 10

II1.  The Early Syrian Epistemic Nature of the Image If we consider the most important and well-preserved masterpieces of the Early Syrian period, it is evident that one of the main characteristics of these images is their ‘compositional aspect’; in fact, these masterpieces are not moulded, carved or sculpted as an ideal shape, but were made of different and precious materials. 11 This specific ‘compositional attitude’ is well documented archaeologically and epigraphically (fig. 2). Not only were many precious stones and refined inlays destined for the miniature royal and sacred statues found in different sectors of the Royal Palace 10.  Hruška 1978: 267–71; Wiggermann 1992: 279–234; Ramazzotti 2012a: 341–71; 2013b: 31–69. 11.  Matthiae 2007: 1–23.

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Fig. 3a–b.  The Wooden Core and the Bronze Face of the Queen Tabur-Damu. © La Sapienza University of Rome (Missione Archeologica Italiana in Siria).

G, 12 but in many economic texts the delivery registrations of small amounts of gold and silver for the production of deity statues are frequent. 13 In any case, some of the most common inlays are the short skirts discovered in the Royal Palace G and in the P4 Building and identified as (íb + . . . + TÚG). 14 The composition of figures of the Royal Palace G is closely related to an ideographic agglutination of single parts as pars pro toto. I have already underlined this concept, 15 but I would like to specify that this kind of integration of single parts as pars pro toto is an inner character of the “still iconic” Sumerian art, 16 which used the verbs drawing (sum. šab; akk. ešēru), carving (sum. bal, gul; akk. naqāru) and mounting in precious metal (sum. gar; akk. uḫḫuzu), 17 probably translated and preserved in the Eblaite handcrafts. Very frequently, the composite human (or anthropomorphic, theriomorphic and hybrid) miniature statues of the Royal Palace G have an inner wooden core, like many 12.  Dolce 1978; 1980: 105–128, Ramazzotti 2012: 53–72; 2014: 651–72. 13.  Archi 1990: 101–105; 1996: 73–99; 2010a: 3–17. 14.  Biga 2010: 158–159; Pasquali 1997: 221. 15.  Ramazzotti 2010b: 309–326. 16.  On the ideographic role of the first iconographies in the Uruk art see: Porada 1950: 223–26; Hansen 1970: 5–26; Szarzyńska 1987–88: 3–21; 1996; Cooper 2008: 69–94; Hockmann 2008: 326–37; Ramazzotti 2010: 309–26; 2013b: 161–215. 17.  Winter 2003: 403–21.

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cult objects coming from the Royal Cemetery of Ur. This core can be regarded as the root of the image, and it did not play the role of the marble in classical sculpture art (for example), but it is both the physical and the ideological support of Early Syrian and Early Dynastic creation (fig. 3a–b). Of course the use of different metals and stones technically needs supports, but we can also speculate on the symbolic meaning of this wooden support, since during the Early Syrian period as well as during the Early Dynastic III period composite images were considered ‘living media’ interposed between deities and the human world. However, many inductions of cult images and “many rituals of constitution and installation” were attested in Mesopotamia from the end of the IIIrd millennium, and later on the “mouth-washing” and “mouth-opening” rituals were realized in order to transform the humanly manufactured icon into a living deity; and also a special verb meaning ‘to give birth’ (sum. tud; akk. waladu) is used for the creation of the statues, rather than the verb ‘to make’ (dím). 18

II2.  The Early Syrian Technical Nature of the Image The compositional aspect of the Early Syrian human and god images was obtained by carving, sculpting, polishing, composing and drilling techniques that were probably the same adopted during the Early Dynastic III period in Mesopotamia. 19 Although the administrative texts don’t give any specific details about metallurgy, sculpture and composing techniques, because they are mainly interested in the registration of finished objects, we can derive other technical details indirectly. For instance many Ebla texts use a rich lexicon for the definition of statues, largely translated from the Sumerian: gold and silver composite statues (DÙL.kù-babbar. kù-sig17), silver statues (DÙL.UD-kù-babbar), bronze statues (DÙL.UD.KA. ⟨BAR⟩), and copper statues (DÙL.uruda). 20 But what we have defined as ‘compositional attitude’ was specifically related to miniature composite statues, while the metallic fusion of bronze and copper seems typical for the still undiscovered colossal statues of the main gods. In fact, the god images were venerated as cult objects in the SA. ZAx Kura’s temple, where the ceremony of the “Ritual of Kingship” ended with the king and queen dedicating 16 spears to the great god. 21 Following an Early Dynastic tradition, the objects of this cult were inside chapels (dagx) 22 or sacred niches, like the Išḫara image that we recently supposed was originally located in the painted niche of the Building FF2; 23 otherwise, in the contemporary Mesopotamian tradition these images of gods were set “upon” a seat in a temple and their surfaces could reflect (more than absorb) the light to render the physical emanation of the Sumerian (me-lam2) and Akkadian (melammu), as a sort of ‘aura’ according to Elena Cassin and Irene Winter. 24 Moreover, the statues of the gods were impressive enterprises since according to Alfonso Archi a document of the Arrukum period (TM.75.G.1915) 18.  Archi 1996b: 37–1; Walker–Dick 1999: 55–122; Winter 1999: 229–256, 2000: 129–162; Pollock– Bernbeck 2000: 150–64; Archi 2005b: 81–100. 19.  Moorey 1967: 97–119; 1982: 13–38. 20.  Civil 2008: 80. 21.  The Sumerian institution SA.ZAx (Civil 1983: 233–240) must be intended as the area of the Palace and sacred buildings located on Ebla Acropolis. Matthiae 2010: 49–50. 22.  Biga 2006: 19–39; Ramazzotti 2013a: 10–34. 23.  Ramazzotti–Di Ludovico 2011: 66–80; 2012: 287–302. 24.  Cassin 1968; Winter 1994: 123–132, see also Emelianov 2010: 1109–1119.

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records 3.917 kg (about 4 kg) of bronze for a pedestal of the statue in the temple of Hadda, and 313 gr. of copper for “nails. . . of the statues (in) the temple of Hadda” and a document of the first year of the minister Ibbi-zikir (TM.75.G.1860) records a human-scale statue devoted to Hadda with a lapis lazuli head weighing 4.230 kg (its value was 1.410 kg of silver). 25 Such statues were also the object of recurrent renewal rites, like the annual replacement of the silver mask that covered the statue of Kura, 26 an old Sumerian tradition that may go back to the lost precious mask of the Warka Woman Head. 27 This tradition nearly disappears at the beginning of the Akkadian period when the more organic and plastic statues 28 do not need any physical media interposed between the object and the observer, except for the eyes of precious material (usually set in the face). In any case, while there certainly existed a specific competence in assembling the miniature statues and a specific skill in the metallic fusion for the kingship and deity statues, particular attention was also used in their restoration and the decorative apparatus of their original context, if the king Ishardamu provided 225.10 minas (106 kg) of silver to refurbish the temple decorations, according to TM.75.G.2269 (obv.  I 1-II 1). Of course many different specialists were employed for these works, but the figurative decorations needed a deep knowledge of metals, stones and wooden instruments to incise, excise and polish different surfaces; a kind of ability that was specific of the so-called seal-cutters (sum. bur-gul; akk. parkullu), 29 expert in the use of the ‘bow drill’, like the artisan who realized the spectacular Early Syrian royal seals recently found in the northern sector of the Royal Palace G (fig. 4).

II3.  The Early Syrian Appearance of the Image The Mesopotamian Fiber Revolution 30 has given the possibility of better understanding of the appearance of the image, since the textiles are also the detailed expression of the image itself as the Early Dynastic composite statues can reproduce its stylized aspect. 31 In the Ebla composite art, the attributes constitute the details of the images and some specific iconographies can be related to specific written “concepts or/and words”. 32 Although it is difficult to connect the substantive “TÚG” (textile) to precise archaeological discoveries, since preserved samples are very rare, according to Maria Giovanna Biga, in the Ebla Archive 25 per cent of the monthly textile delivery accounts have been published and many documents register deliveries of silver to by different types of textiles. 33 In particular, the wool 34 was given to different categories of workers (including the queen and the queen mother), but was also used to purchase goods at fairs and as payment for service 25.  Archi 2010a: 10. 26.  Archi 1996: 73; 2005: 81–100; 2010a: 5. 27.  Lenzen 1939: 85–87; Ramazzotti 2010b: 309–326. 28.  Barrelet 1959: 20–37; Amiet 1972: 97–109; 1975: 173–175: 1976. 29.  Porada 1977: 7–14. 30.  For an anthropological analysis of the so called “Mesopotamian Fiber Revolution” see: McCorriston 1997: 517–549. 31.  Moorey 1996: 227–238; Matthiae 2007: 1–23. 32.  As in the Uruk Period these concepts can be related to a specific ideography. See Szarzyńska 1988: 220–230. 33.  On the Ebla written documents of textiles see: Archi 1982; 1999: 44–53; Biga 2009: 37–40; Biga 2010: 147–172; Pasquali 2010: 173–185. 34.  For “le travails de la laine” in the arcaic Mesopotamian world see: Breniquet 2006: 78–94; 2010: 52–67; Waetzold 2007: 112–124; Foster 2010. 110–145.

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Fig. 4.  The Royal Cylinder Seal Drawing from L. 9583 in the Royal Palace G. © La Sapienza University of Rome (Missione Archeologica Italiana in Siria).

rendered by merchants. More specific and limited to the king were the linen turbans (aktum-TÚG túg-ZI.ZI 35 / ti-ba-ra-nu or ti-ba-ra-núm 36) that characterized the representation of the king’s head during civil and cultural functions but never during military activities, 37 and was different from the so called toque of Kish and Mari. Also very common was the gíd-TÚG translated as a ‘long garment’, the Sumerian “gíd” meaning “long”. 38 This can be compared with the long garment of the wooden inlay of a king from the Royal Palace G as well as with the long garment of the composite miniature statue from the Inanna Temple of Nippur. The belt was usual in male dress and it is identified both in the word (íb-lá/íb-TÚG) 39 as well as in many stone inlays coming from the Royal Palace G. Also very common in the texts was the use of a textile “band” (gàr-su) 40 attested in different colors, mostly black, and delivered in non-funerary contexts. Moreover a sort of strip (strip: níg-lá-sag) was given 35.  Biga 1992: 16–17; Biga 2010: 155- 156; Sallaberger 2009: 16. 36.  Pasquali 1997: 262–266; Pasquali 2010: 180. 37.  On the royal Hairdresses and Turbans at the Court of Ebla see: Matthiae 1979: 17–31; Pinnock 1992: 15–16; Dolce 2002: 201–212. 38.  Biga 2010: 157; Sallaberger 2009: 18. 39.  Pasquali 2010: 176. 40.  Biga 2010: 157; Pasquali 1997: 233–235; Pasquali 2010: 181.

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Fig. 5.  The Composite Miniature Statue Drawing of the Queen Tabur-Damu. © La Sapienza University of Rome (Missione Archeologica Italiana in Siria).

as a protection for the feet (níg-lá-DU) 41 or for the chest (níg-lá-gaba); 42 but also as a specific ornament for the head (níg-sagšu), and recently Maria Giovanna Biga has proposed the identification of the headband (níg-lá-sag) 43 with the silver headband of the standing queen TM.07.G.231 in the so-called Standard of the Maliktum (fig. 5). One of the most important details in the king’s ideological equipment, which is frequently mentioned in the text also as an offering to the main gods of Early Syrian Ebla, is the axe (ḫa-da); 44 this bronze axe was different from the well-known stone Early Dynastic examples, but probably maintained the same prestigious function. Another association that we are now able to make is the relationship between the word throne (giš-uštin), 45 usually associated with the term pillow (ma-za-bù) 46 and felts (túg-du8), 47 and the composite throne of the funerary statue of the seated queen TM.07.G.230 48 in the Standard of the Maliktum, since the two definitions are always used for the throne seats of the Royal Family (fig. 6). 41.  Biga 2010: 159- 160. Pasquali 2010: 181. 42.  Biga 2010: 159. 43.  Biga 1992: 16- 17; Biga 2010: 159; Pasquali 1997. 44.  Archi 2005a: 74–75; 2010: 18–19; Pasquali 2005. 45.  Pasquali 1995a: 89; Pasquali 1997: 253–254; Pasquali 2010: 180. 46.  Pasquali 1995a: 89; Pasquali 1997: 253–255. 47.  Pasquali 1995a: 89; Pasquali 1997: 253; Pasquali 2005: 61; Pasquali 2010: 181–182. 48.  Matthiae 2009: 289–292, and figs. 11–13, 19. This statue has been recently compared with a statue donated to the temple of Hadda by Arrukum that needed a large amount of precious metals: 3.76 kg of silver and 1.41 kg of gold. Archi 2010a: 10.

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Fig. 6.  The Seat Throne of the Queen Mother Dusigu. © La Sapienza University of Rome (Missione Archeologica Italiana in Siria).

II.4.  The Early Syrian Quality of the Image We can only trace some general and contextual trajectories for the ancient Eblaite perception of the quality of the image, as for the contemporary Mesopotamian world. In the Ebla texts the common substantive (du-za-mu) “exceptionellemant décoré” from the Semitic root *wsm (to be adorned, to be elegant, usually adopted to indicate high quality textiles) 49 can be frequently recognized and seems to underline a specific quality of the images themselves, and this concept was also expressed by the Sumerian verbs “šu . . . tag” decorate, to adorn. 50 Moreover we have also the mention of textile production from Mari (dùl-TÚG) 51 and the adjective (má-ri-a-tim): 52 a kind of garment realized in the same way as Mari, and recently we found a precious inlay representing probably a man of high rank wearing a long, smooth garment with lower pointed fringes similar to the garment of the well-known Mari inlays (fig. 7a–b). From the texts we can also distinguish: 1. three different types of fiber for the textiles: linen, simile linen and wool (gada-TÚG, 53 dam-ša-lu 54 and siki); 55 2. Six different qualities of textiles: “universal” quality, first quality, good quality, 49.  Pasquali 2010: 175. 50. šu-tag ‘decorate’, lit. ‘let one’s hand (šu) touch (tag)’). Jagersma 2010: 124. 51.  Biga 2010: 156; Sallaberger 2009: 18. 52.  Pasquali 2010: 179. 53.  Biga 2010: 156; Pasquali (1997) Pasquali 2010: 173, 180–181. 54.  dam-ša-lu “le (tissu) ressemblant au (lin)” Pasquali 2010: 174. 55.  Biga 2010: 164; Pasquali 1997: 258. Pasquali 2010: 173.

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Fig. 7a–b.  Inlay representing probably a man of high rank wearing a long, smooth garment from the Northern Quarter of the Royal Palace G (TM07G333a-b). © La Sapienza University of Rome (Missione Archeologica Italiana in Siria).

light quality and fine quality, respectively (túg-NI.NI, 56 sa6, 57 sag, 58 sal-TÚG 59 and du-za-mu 60); the most commonly given textiles (íb+I/II/III/IV/V- TÚG) unfortunately translated in too many different ways; the second quality wool (gu-dùl) 61 or low quality wool (gu-mug-TÚG); 62 3. Different styles of textiles: “lain arrachée”, the so-called (ti-TÚG) that can be translated as pleated woven 63 (or following Sallaberger a short smooth skirt); soft cloth (TÚG DIG-DIG); 64 textiles for people of different status (gu-mug-TÚG), textiles for solders (guruš), dancers (NE.DI), singers (nar) or 56.  Biga 2010: 160; Sallaberger 2009: 17, 19. 57.  Sallaberger 2009: 12; Biga 2010: 154, 160. 58.  Sallaberger 2009: 12; Biga 2010: 154. 59.  Sallaberger 2009: 12; Biga 2010: 160. 60.  Pasquali 1997: 218, 231–233; Biga 2010: 156; Pasquali 2010: 175. 61.  Biga 2010: 157. 62.  Biga 2010: 158. 63.  Biga 2010: 160. 64.  Sallaberger 2009: 19.

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Fig. 8a–b.  The Veil in two Contemporary Female Miniature Composite Statues from Ebla TM83G400 and Mari SO2027. © La Sapienza University of Rome (Missione Archeologica Italiana in Siria).

acrobats of the Royal Court; wool textiles for the Royal Court ladies (gù-bù-rùm); 65 swaddling clothes for the infants (maš-da-bù); 66 4. Two different textiles for gifts: gift of textiles and jewels for the gods and gift of precious textiles for the mother of new born grandchild of the King of Ebla; 5. Many different colours of textiles: reddish-brown textile for the animals to be sacrificed during important festivals (túg-NI.NI); different types of excellent wool (ni-za-ù/nu-za-a-tum) 67 associated with other colourful textiles (gàr-ti-um or gàr-ti-ì/gàr-ti-ù); 68 different colours of textiles used in different rituals and associated with a complex symbolism: white (babbar), 69

65.  Pasquali 2010: 174. 66.  Pasquali 1997: 248–253; Pasquali 2010: 179–180. 67.  Pasquali 1997: 258–262; Pasquali 2010: 173–174. 68.  Pasquali 1997: 236; Pasquali 2010: 174. 69.  Biga 2010: 155; Pasquali 1997: 246 Pasquali 2005: 63; Sallaberger 2009: 12.

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Fig. 9a–b–c.  Gold Strips Interworked to Make small Objects Looking Like Miniature Mats. © La Sapienza University of Rome (Missione Archeologica Italiana in Siria).

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black (gi6), 70 red (ú-ḫab), 71 yellow-green (giš-ir-zù), 72 multicolour (gùn, túg-gùn). 73 But from the texts we can also specify a sort of clothing style that was probably adopted as a status symbol: the so-called “ba-ra-i” (siki or siki ba-ra-u9), 74 from the Semitic root *bry (to control, to choose), were excellent quality wool (different from the gu-mug-TÚG low quality wool) used only for the high rank personalities and always attested in black and red colours; analogues the (zara6-TÚG) were different colour textiles always associated with the most important women of the Royal Court and worn during an investiture ceremony, or during other important rites of passage. 75 One of the word-concepts frequently used in the Ebla texts is the term ʾà-daum-TÚG (and gu-zi-tum-TÚG) a sort of garment directly apposed on the body that comes from the Semitic root *htl (to wrap up, to cover). 76 We can probably connect this kind of garment to a specific female garment that could be attested both in Ebla and Mari (fig. 8a–b); part of this garment consisted of a shawl / stole / wrap (du-ru12-rúm) 77 from the Semitic root (*ktm ) to cover with a veil, 78 and a veil (maga-da-ma-tum / pad-TÚG) 79 is also well underlined in the Ritual of Kingship where the “NEnaški” dame cover with a veil the Queen for seven time. Since du-ru12-rúm or AD-túg/turru(m) is an object of great relevance that could be realized in gold and was limited to the ceremonial environment of the royal family, I would suggest here the identification of the fine gold strips interworked to make small objects looking like miniature mats 80 (and considered the earliest interworking of gold 81) as a precious part of this veil (fig. 9a–c). They may also fit with the term zimidatum, a band in gold thread used for ceremonial ornaments mentioned in a text found nearby. 82 Although we cannot solve the question whether the gold lamella were interwoven by a weaver, or whether the textile techniques was imitated by a jeweller, these kinds of work were really part of a ‘surpassing work’: “galam” (masterful and ingenious) as well as “nam-kù-zu” (nēmequ) lit. ‘knowledge(ably), skilful(ly), expert(ly-made); 83 and in such a way they were probably evaluated in the so-called ‘House of Wool’ (é-siki), 84 which probably at the beginning was a storeroom for the wool, the treasure of the Royal Palace G. 85 70.  Biga 2010: 157; Pasquali 1997: 222, 228, 246; Pasquali 2005: 63. 71.  Biga 2010: 155; Pasquali 1997: 222; Sallaberger 2009: 12. 72.  Pasquali 1997: 238–240, 247. 73.  Biga 2010: 154; Pasquali 1997: 219, 228, 247; Pasquali 2010: 176; Sallaberger 2009: 12. 74.  Pasquali 1997: 220–222; Pasquali 2010: 173–174. 75.  Biga 2010: 161; Pasquali 1997: 231; Sallaberger 2009: 18–19. 76.  Biga 2010: 154; Pasquali 1997a: 218–220; Pasquali 2010: 175; Sallaberger 2009: 8–111. 77. “Étole-péplum”. Pasquali 2010: 175. 78.  Pasquali 1997: 224–230; Pasquali 2005: 64–65; Pasquali 2010: 175–176; 79.  Pasquali 2009: 12–15. 80.  TM.04.G.170a-f: six gold intertwined bands found in the inner room L. 8496 of the Throne Room L. 2866. Matthiae 2006: 455–457, fig. 8; Ramazzotti in pr. 81.  Desrosiers 2010: 23–51. 82.  Ramazzotti 2014: 651–72; Desrosiers 2010: 23–51. 83.  Winter 2003: 403–421. 84.  Many other objects were realized indifferently in textiles or worked metal, such as the “bande” or “sangle” (qeršum) that was worn exclusively by the king during purification rites, or the ornaments (harzubatum har-zu-ba-tum or har-zù- ba-tum/har-zu[SU]-ba- tum) for the equids of the royal court. Pasquali 1997: 241–243; Pasquali 2010: 181. 85.  For the translation history of the term é. siki and its interpretation see: Edzard 1981: 123; Archi 1988: 50–52; é. siki was interpreted at the beginning literally by D. O. Edzard, ARET II (1981) 123 as “wool house” and was intended as a workshop for the wool; A. Archi change this interpretation translat-

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The aesthetical lexicon of Ebla Royal Archive gave us the extraordinary opportunity of connecting and detailing the third millennium composite images of the Early Syrian kingship with the possible linguistic definition of their attributes, rooted inside the Semitic translation of the Sumerian aesthetical and technological lexicon. In the fluid transmission between the mittens and receiver many Sumerian ‘words and concepts’ were adapted by the Ebla royal court in order to sign different visual occasions, rituals and ceremonies of the Early Syrian kingship. The political use od such archaic lexicon was integrated by the Ebla chancellery in order to give a ‘physical’ nature to the reflexes, to the iridescences, to the transparencies, to the luminosity and to others ‘meta-physical’ qualities of the semblances traditionally associated ‘à la mode de Sumer’. Of course is almost difficult to distinguish any visual representation by the lenses of the written sources passing by the limits of the so called ‘concordisme’ 86, but seems to me innovative the use of ‘textile lexicon’ for to detail the official status of the Early Syrian kingship. The semantic transformation of the ‘House of the Wool’ in to the ‘Treasure’ of the Throne Room could be quoted as an example of this new ideological ‘translation’, and at the same time could underline an innovative character of the Ebla kingship well adapted to the agro-pastoral milieu. The implication of the use of this vocabulary in order to rename some important places of the Early Syrian kingship (é.siki) as well as some official clothes (aspects) of the Early Syrian kingship (ma-ga-da-ma-tum / pad-TÚG), is important because implies an inner and autonomous cognitive character in Semitic way of organizing the aesthetic images of the power. A character that was probably encapsulated in the agro-pastoralist economy of the so-called secondary urbanism in Northern Mesopotamia and, of course, can’t be intended as a simple mimesis of the Sumerian ‘mode’ as well as a prehistory of the classic aesthetic thought, western oriented.

III.  The Lexicon of Ebla’s Composite Art During the Age of the Archives If we consider our data it is now possible to compare some aesthetic concepts inspired by Early Syrian composite art with some of the principles and aesthetic values of the Sumerian and Akkadian world, and to organize a systemic distinction between Early Dynastic III period art and the composite art of the late Early Syrian Ebla. In the Sumerian world it has been invariably noted that there are many examples of “art imitating writing”. The first pictograms and the iconology of many sculptures belong to the same aesthetic-representational tradition, as Edith Porada first 87 and then Jarrold Cooper pointed out. 88 At the beginning of the Early Dynastic period Henry Frankfort wrote that in the glyptic Mesopotamians discovered the means to realize its peculiar potentialities by creating “a decoration. . . that depends for its effects upon the harmony of its constituents”, 89 while Antoon Moortgat ing é. siki “treasure house” considering an historical and political development of the term (ARET VII 50–52). Recently has been proposed the interpretation of an archaeological context in the Throne Room as é. siki. Ramazzotti in pr. 86.  «l’imagerie et ses modèles littéraires présumés» Amiet 1977: 107–16. 87.  Porada 1995: 1–15. 88.  Cooper 2008: 69–94. 89.  Frankfort 1939: 45.

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completely disagreed, maintaining that the beginning of the Early Dynastic period, on the contrary, manifested a high degree of decline. 90 In any case, according to Roger Moorey, all the characteristics which were to distinguish the arts and crafts of Early Dynastic III, the high tide of Sumerian culture, are identifiable in embryo in Early Dynastic II, but not yet to any appreciable extent in Early Dynastic I. In fact it is during the Early Dynastic II period that “the Mesopotamian separation of art and writing is not just a matter of appearance, but also a question of difference in the conceptual corpora and interests of writer and artists”; 91 indeed it is during the same period (Uruk 17) that the first reliable anthropomorphic representations of gods well recognizable by the use of the horned crowns appear. The ancient Early Syrian composite art is located in this specific conjuncture: it is not a direct imitation of pictograms, but translates Fig. 10.  The Head of a Lady from Khafajah (Frankfort 1939: 117, pl. 83). and maintains in a new figurative world of composite images the “ideen-schriften” of Sumerian aesthetics. This translation of Sumerian “words and concepts” into the Semitic way of perceiving could probably be compared in future with the Second and First Millennium Semitic metallurgy lexicon of Paolo Collini 92 as well as many glotto-anthropological categories emerging from the so-called “Semitization process” well-detailed by Civil and Rubio philological studies. 93 Step by step the late Early Syrian composite art seems to abandon the Early Dynastic III concept of the image as a pure composition of different materials and elements, symbolically separated but parts of a structural view of humans and gods. Many physiographic details of humans and animal subjects begin to display specific attention to the organic form and mark a proximity to the first volumetric figures of the Old Akkadian period (fig. 10). Since the Old Akkadian period the word ṣalmu, translated from the Sumerian term ALAM denotes indifferently the representations of gods, kings and human beings as well as demons. It will be the only term both for the statues and for the stelae (sum. NA-RÚ-A; akk. from Sumerian loan: narû), 94 probably identifying the conclusion of a Semitization process and the birth of a more allusive, symbolic, affective and almost metaphysical syncretic vision of humans, kings and gods. 90.  Moortgat 1969: 27. 91.  Cooper 1989: 39–51; Cooper 2008: 78. 92.  Collini 1987: 9–43; 1989: 23.45. 93.  Civil-Rubio 1999: 254–266. 94.  For the stelae concept in the Ebla documents see: Archi 1998: 15–24.

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2005c Remarques comparatives sur la symbolique du vêtement à Ebla. Pp. 165–184 in Memoriae Igor M. Diakonoff, Babel und Bibel 2. Edited by L. Kogan et alii. Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns. 2009 Les equivalents sémitiques de PAD-tùg, “voile”, dans les textes d’Ebla. NABU 11: 12–15. 2010 Les noms sémitiques des tissus dans les textes d’Ebla. Pp. 173–185 in Textile Terminologies in the Ancient Near East and Mediterranean from the Third to the First Millennia BC. Ancient Textile Series vol. 8. Edited by C. Michel and M.-L. Nosch. Oxford: Oxbow Books. Porada, E. 1950 A Leonine Figure of the Protoliterate Period of Mesopotamia. Journal of the American Oriental Society 70/4: 223–226. 1977 Of Professional Seal Cutters and Nonprofessionally Made Seals. Pp. 7–14 in Seals and Sealing in Ancient Near East. Edited McG. Gibson and R. D. Biggs. Bibliotheca Mesopotamica 6. Malibu: Undena Publications. 1995 Man and Images in the Ancient Near East. London: Moyer Bell. Pinnock, F. 1992 Le “Turban royal éblaite”. NABU 18: 15–16. Pollock, S., and Bernbeck, R. 2000 And They Said, Let Us Make Gods in Our Image. Gendered Ideologies in Ancient Mesopotamia. Pp. 150–164 in Reading the Body: Representations and Remains in the Archaeological Record. Edited by A. E. Rautman. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Ramazzotti, M. 2006 Segni, codici e linguaggi nell’“agire comunicativo” delle culture protostoriche di Mesopotamia, alta Siria e Anatolia. Pp. 511–565 in “ina kibrat erbetti”. Studies in Honor of Paolo Matthiae Offered by Colleagues and Friends on the Occasion of His 65th Birthday. Edited by F. Baffi, R. Dolce, S. Mazzoni and F. Pinnock. Rome: La Sapienza. 2010a Archeologia e semiotica. Linguaggi, codici, logiche e modelli. Torino: Bollati Bornghieri. 2010b Ideografia ed estetica della statuaria mesopotamica del III millennio a.C. Quaderni di Vicino Oriente V: 309–326. 2011a Anatomia di Akkad. Le ombre di una città invisibile dal suo paesaggio storiografico, estetico e storico. Pp. 341–375 in Quale Oriente? Omaggio a un Maestro. Studi di Arte e di Archeologia del Vicino Oriente in memoria di A. Moortgat a trenta anni dalla sua morte. Edited by R. Dolce. Palermo: Flaccovio. 2012a Aesthetic and Cognitive Report on Ancient Near Eastern Clay Figurines Based on Some Early Bronze and Old Syrian Records Discovered at Ebla-Tell Mardikh (Syria). Scienze dell’Antichità 17: 341–371. 2012b The Ideological and Aesthetic Relationship Between Ur And Ebla During The Third Millennium B. C. Pp. 53–72 in Proceedings of the 7th International Congress on the Archaeology of the Ancient Near East 12 April–16 April 2010, the British Museum and UCL, London, Volume 1 Mega-cities & Mega-sites The Archaeology of Consumption & Disposal Landscape, Transport & Communication. Edited by R. Matthews and J. Curtis with the collaboration of M. Seymour, A. Fletcher, A. Gascoigne, C. Glatz, St John Simpson, H. Taylor, J. Tubb and R. Chapman. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag. 2013a Where Were the Early Syrian Kings of Ebla Buried? The Ur-Eridu Survey Neural Model as an Artificial Adaptive System for the Probabilistic Localization of the Ebla Royal è madím. Scienze dell’Antichità 19/1: 10–34. 2013b Mesopotamia antica. Archeologia del pensiero creatore di miti nel Paese di Sumer e di Accad. Roma: Editoriale Artemide. 2014 Royal Administration During the Conquest. New Archaeological and Epigraphic Discoveries in the Royal Palace G at Ebla-Tell Mardikh. Pp. 651–72 in Krieg und Frieden im Alten Vorderasien. Edited by H. Neumann et al. Münster: Ugarit-Verlag. Ramazzotti, R., and Di Ludovico, A. 2011 Design at Ebla. The Decorative System of a Painted Wall Decoration. Orientalia 80/1: 66–80. 2012 White, Red and Black. Technical Relationships and Stylistic Perceptions between Colours, Lights and Places in Mesopotamia and Syria during the Third Millennium BC.

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Pp. 287–302 in Proceedings of the 7th International Congress on the Archaeology of the Ancient Near East 12 April–16 April 2010, the British Museum and UCL, London, Volume 2 Ancient & Modern Issues in Cultural Heritage Colour & Light in Architecture, Art & Material Culture Islamic Archaeology. Edited by R. Matthews and J. Curtis with the collaboration of M. Seymour, A. Fletcher, A. Gascoigne, C. Glatz, St John Simpson, H. Taylor, J. Tubb and R. Chapman. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag. Sallaberger, W. 2009 Von der Wollration zum Ehrenkleid. Textilien als Prestigegüter am Hof von Ebla. Pp. 1–24 in Der Wert der Dinge-Guten im Prestigediskurs. Münchner Studien zur Alten Welt 6. Edited by B. Hildebrandt and C. Veit. München: Herbert Utz Verlag. Szarzyńska, K. 1987–88  Some of the Oldest Cult Symbol in Archaic Uruk. JEOL 30: 3–21. 1988 Records of Garnments and Clothes in Archaïc Uruk/Warka. AfO 15: 220–230. 1996 Archaic Sumerian Standards. JCS 48: 1–15. Walker, C., and Dick, M. B. 1999 The Induction of the Cult Image in Ancient Mesopotamia. The Mesopotamian Mīs Pî Ritual. Pp.  55–122 in Born in Heaven, Made on Earth. Edited by M. B. Dick. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Waetzold, H. 2007 The Use of Wool for the Productions of Strings, Ropes, Branded mats, and Similar Fabrics. Pp. 112–124 in Ancient Textile Production, Crafts and Society. Ancient Textiles Series 1. Edited by C. Gillis and M. L. Nosch, Oxford: Oxbow Books. Wiggerman, F. A. M. 1992a Mythological Foundation of Nature. Pp. 279–294 in Natural Phenomena. Their Meaning, Depiction and Description in the Ancient Near East. Edited by Diederik J. W. Meijer. Amsterdam: Royal Netherlands Academy of Arts and Sciences. 1992b Mesopotamian Protective Spirits. Groningen: Brill. Winter, I. 1994 Radiance as an Aesthetic Value in the Art of Mesopotamia (With some Indian Parallels). Pp. 123–132 in Art: the Integral Vision: a Volume of Essay in Felicitation of Kapila Vatsyayan. Edied by B. N. Saraswati, S. C. Malik and M. Khanna, New Delhi: D. K. Print World Ltd. 1995 Aesthetics in Ancient Mesopotamian Art. Pp. 2569–2580 in Civilizations of the Ancient Near East. Edited by J. M. Sasson. Michigan: Charles Scribner’s Sons. 1999 Reading Ritual in the Archaeological Record: Deposition Pattern and Function of Two Artifact Types from the Royal Cemetery of Ur. Pp.  229–26 in Fluchtpunkt Uruk. Archäologische Einheit aus methodischer Vielfalt. Schriften für Hans Jörg Nissen. Edited by H. Kühne, R. Bernbeck, and K. Bartl. Rahden: Marie Leidorf. 2000 Opening the Eyes and Opening the Mouth; the Utility of Comparing Images in Worship in India and the Ancient Near East. Pp. 129–162 in Ethnography & Personhood: Notes from the Field. Edited by M. W. Meister. Rawat: Rawat Publications. 2002 Defining ‘Aesthetics’ for Non-Western Studies: the Case of Ancient Mesopotamia. Pp. 3–28 in Art History, Aesthetics, Visual Studies (Clark Studies in the Visual Arts). Edited by M. A. Holly and K. Moxey. New Haven-London: Clark Art Institute. 2003 Surpassing Work: Mastery of Materials and the Value of Skilled Production in Ancient Sumer. Pp. 403–421 in Culture through Objects: Ancient Near Eastern Studies in Honour of P. R. S. Moorey. Edited by T. Potts, M. Roaf and D. Stein. Oxford: Griffith Institute.

DUGURASU = rw-ḥꜢwt Alessandro Roccati Torino

“Oro, argento, azzuro ’n ornamenti.” (Guido Cavalcanti, Biltà di donna e di saccente core, verse 8)

The Egyptian evidence in the third millennium b.c. already covered a very large geographical horizon, but did not work out the conception of a unitary territory yet. 1 In Egypt, the regional units were present with their centers, grouped together under an administrative perspective as belonging to Upper Egypt (šmʾ “the thin [land]”) and Lower Egypt (tꜢ mḥ “the sunken land”). However, when an Egyptian referred to his own country, he used the simple idiom tꜢ pn “this country.” The word Kmt “the black one” was used to name Egypt only from the second millennium b.c., considering it as a whole. The origin of this word is probably from the South, next to Thebes rather than to Memphis. Likewise, the territorial units in Nubia, to the South of Egypt, were quoted with their peculiar names (WꜢwꜢt, Irṯt, ZꜢṯw, IꜢm), while its general name “Kush” (which derives probably from a small place name KꜢs) became usual from the second millennium as well. In the second millennium, most towns in Egypt acquired a second “religious” name, linking them with the god who was worshiped in them. From the religious name of Memphis Ḥwt-kꜢ-Ptḥ “the mansion of the ka of Ptah” the prototype of the term “Egypt” was created, then it was adapted to designate also the river flowing through Memphis (the Nile), and after it, the whole country flooded by it. It is apt to stress this link between river and country, for the same process applies also to Dugurasu. Anyhow, the word “Egypt” (and not Kmt) as a name for the country was known to the peoples of the Eastern Mediterranean, from the Aegean area as far as Ugarit. On the other hand, the Babylonian language adopted a Semitic word, Misr, used also by the Hittites and Mycenaeans and still meaning in modern Arabic both the country (Egypt) and its capital (Cairo). The discovery of the Ebla archive, with its widespread connections, immediately presented an Egyptian case. Prized objects donated by some pharaohs were found in the palace at Ebla, however nothing in the archive pointed overtly to Egypt, nor to Byblos, which during the third millennium was an outpost of the pharaonic power and the main Egyptian contact point in Asia (Kbn). An embarrassing silence! 1.  A. Roccati, “Sono dei Re quelli specificati per nome (ḥqꜢw pw mtrw rnw),” (ed. Fales and Grassi) Camsemud 2007, Proceedings of the 13th Italian Meeting of Afro-Asiatic Linguistics, Held in Udine, May 21st–24th, 2007 (HANEM 10), Padua, 2010, pp. 271–73.

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This gap was recently filled by the publication of an outstanding biographic inscription from Egypt, dating to the sixth Dynasty, 2 and thanks to an insight of Maria Giovanna Biga 3. The inscription deals with an official, Iny, who was sent by Pharaoh to some unknown places in Asia, certainly beyond Byblos and Lebanon, in order to provide some products highly requested in Egypt and possessing a special significance, also by the order in which they are reported: lapis lazuli (ḫsbḏ), tin (dḥt(y) ḥḏ) or “white lead,” 4 silver (ḥḏ), and bitumen (zfṯ). 5 The word for “bitumen” is new, because there was probably a confusion with its near homophone “holy oil” (sfṯ). Most of these products are found with others in two passages of the Admonitions 6 in which a sage complains: “Lo, gold (nbw), lapis lazuli (ḫsbd), silver (ḥd), turquoise (mfkꜢt), 7 carnelian (ḥmꜢgt), bronze (ḥsmn), amethyst (ibhꜢty) . . . are strung on the necks of female slaves” (3, 2–3)

and “Lo, [tomb]-builders have become field-laborers, those who were in the god’s bark are yoked [to it]. None indeed sail north to Byblos today. What shall we do for pine trees for our mummies? Free men are buried with their produce, nobles are embalmed with their bitumen [sft, in the time of this copy no distinction existed between s and z] 8 as far as Kftw (Crete). They come no more. Gold is lacking; exhausted are materials for every kind of craft” (3, 6–8). 9

It looks like another passage from the Story of Sinuhe (B 188–94 = O. Ashmolean 12–16), which belongs to the same historical background. The letter sent by Pharaoh reads: 2.  M. Marcolin, “Una nuova biografia egiziana della VI dinastia con iscrizioni storiche e geografiche,” in Atti dell’Accademia delle Scienze di Torino, Classe di Scienze Morali, Storiche e Filologiche 144 (2010), pp. 43–79. 3. See M. G. Biga, “Inherited Space: Third Millennium Political and Cultural Landscape,” in Constituent, Confederate and Conquered Space in Upper Mesopotamia: The Case of the Mittani Transition, proceedings of the TOPOI workshop, Berlin 13–15 July 2009 (ed. N. Brisch, E. Cancik, and J. Eidem; Berlin, 2012), pp. 95–112; eadem, “Encore à propos des rapports entre les royaumes de Mari et d’Ebla à l’epoque présargonique,” in Proceedings of the International Conference ‘Mari, ni est ni ouest?’ Damas 19–21 Octobre 2010, Syria Supplément 2 (ed. P. Butterlin, 2013), pp. 1–9; eadem, „Tra Egitto e Siria nel III millennio a.C.“, in Atti dell’Accademia delle Scienze di Torino, Classe di Scienze Morali, Storiche e Filologiche, 146 (2012), pp. 17–36. 4.  H. von Deines and H. Grapow, Wörterbuch der ägyptischen Drogennamen, Berlin 1959, p. 603; cf. J. H. Harris, Lexicographical Studies in Ancient Egyptian Minerals, Berlin 1961, pp. 67 and 150. 5. Harris, Studies, p. 234 Addendum to p. 173: bitumen was used in all periods to make mummies. 6.  A. H. Gardiner, The Admonitions of an Egyptian Sage, Leipzig 1909, p. 32. 7.  The first four products are found in an unpublished hymn to Amon, preserved in a papyrus of the Egyptian Museum at Turin; some of them occur again in the Hymn to the Nile and in the Instruction of King Amenemhet I for his son Sesostris I. The archetypes of all these works may go back to the twelfth Dynasty. In a stela of Serabit el-Khadim (J. Černy and A. H. Gardiner, The Inscriptions of Sinai, I, London 1952, pl. XLIV n. 102 e: reign of Amenemhat III) Hathor is called “mistress of lapis lazuli” as well as “mistress of turquoise”. 8.  It is probably the same product written sfy (Coptic ϹІϥЄ) in the first millennium b.c.: ZÄS 137 (2010) 93–95 (translated there, as often, ambiguously “resinous oil”). W. Vycichl, “Un royaume dans un pot de lentilles,” in Melanges Adolphe Gutbub, Montpellier 1984, pp. 233–37; on pp. 235–36, he points out the same word in Arabic and Berber. 9.  Adapted from M. Lichtheim, Ancient Egyptian Literature, Vol. I: The Old and Middle Kingdoms, Berkeley and Los Angeles 1975, p. 152.

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“Come back to Egypt (Kmt)! See the capital city (ẖnw) in which you lived! Kiss the ground at the great portals, mingle with the courtiers! . . . Think of the day of burial, the passing into reveredness. A night is made for you with bitumen (sft) and wrappings from the hand of Tait. A funeral procession is made for you on the day of burial; the mummy case is of gold (nbw), its head of lapis lazuli (ḫsbḏ). The sky is above you as you lie in the hearse, oxen drawing you, musicians going before you. . .”. 10

The importance of tin to make bronze (ḥsmn < ḥzmn in Egyptian, its occurrence is sure from the second millennium b.c.) is noteworthy, provided that Egypt exploited at least since the third Dynasty the copper quarries (ḥmt) in Sinai. In the treasure of Tod, datable to the reign of Amenemhet II (1914–1879) silver ware and lapis lazuli are lavish. 11 The stone fragment of the Annals of this Pharaoh reports again and again some materials imported from Asia, like silver (ḥḏ), bronze (ḥsmn), copper (ḥmt) and Asian copper (ḥmt sṯty), gold (ḏʾm), lead or tin (ḏḥti), carnelian (ḥmꜢgt), malachite (wꜢḏ), bitumen (?) (sfṯ). 12 The excavations of Ebla have highlighted that this town was a trade broker of lapis lazuli and tin, coming from distant Badakhshan, and that the melting of copper with tin was skilfully operated in it in order to produce bronze, already at the time of the found archive. Indeed in the Abusir papyri “Asian copper” (ḥmt sṯty) is quoted, probably to point out imported bronze objects. 13 According to M. G. Biga, lapis lazuli and silver were delivered to Dugurasu, an unknown country that provided a lot of gold and linen textiles! That trade allows a unique answer to locate Dugurasu: Dugurasu = Egypt. What might Dugurasu mean for the Egyptians? Provided that its reading is correct, no significance is recognized in the languages used in the Syro-Palestinian area. Could it be the cuneiform rendering of an Egyptian expression? Working on this hypothesis, what perception of Egypt might be felt by people living outside it, especially to the North of it? Travelers would encounter an immense river, differing from a sea because it spread in several branches in the Northern region. No synthetic term was available in the third millennium b.c. to define large territories or countries, often named by their main city or landscape. Memphis, with its pyramids, was far away from the border. Actually in the afore quoted biography Iny states that his trip to Byblos had as its departure point R-ḥꜢt, a place name hitherto known only from later sources, which may mean “the beginning” or “the mouth (of the river),” and that may be the clew. That term occurs again several times (also in the plural) in documents of the second millennium b.c., with a meaning “the mouths (of the Nile branches).” 14 It might have some relation with Prw-nfr “the good departure,” a cult place of

10.  Lichtheim, op. cit., p. 229. 11.  F. Bisson de la Roque, Le trésor de Tod, Catalogue Général du Musée du Caire, Cairo 1953. 12.  H. Altenmüller and A.  M. Moussa, “Die Inschrift Amenemhets II. aus dem Ptah-Tempel von Memphis. Vorbericht,” SAK 18 (1991), pp. 1–48. 13.  A. Roccati, La littérature historique sous l’Ancien Empire égyptien, Paris 1982, pp. 278–79 (§§ 278 and 280) ; cf. M. Valloggia, “La maîtrise du fer en Egypte: entre traditions indigènes et importations,” Mediterranean Archaeology 14 (2001), pp. 195–204. 14. P. Gallo, A. ’Abd El-Fattah, Aegyptiaca Alexandrina V. “Un directeur des marais du delta Occidental au Moyen Empire”, in J. Y. Empereur (ed.), Alexandrina 2, Cairo, 2002, pp. 13–20; Marcolin (quoted n. 2), pp. 64–65.

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Astarte and Baal, which designated the harbor of Avaris, 15 and might have from the third millennium b.c. the role of a border post. One cannot help reminding the imposing sphinxes which were reused and found in the capital cities of the Libyan Dynasties Tanis and Bubastis, some of which might have been sculptured in the fourth Dynasty, and thereafter usurped by pharaohs of the twelfth Dynasty and Hyksos kings and even later, 16 which could mark entering and leaving points with concern to Egypt. The place name R-ḥꜢt is similar for its formation to R-nfr, another locality in the delta, and they may represent a complementary couple (“beginning”: “end”). The first significance of R-ḥꜢt (also in the plural: Rw-ḥꜢwt or Rw-ḥꜢw⟨t⟩y) 17 may point out someway a “river mouth,” or this compound may mean “beginning” (cf. ḥꜢt-ʾ), therefore also “boundary”: Misri in the Semitic tradition signifying Egypt, might be a subsequent translation. 18 Sounds are compatible. The vowel following r might be a: *ra, plural *rau (> *ru?). The pronunciation of ḥꜢt in the concerned period should sound *ġurat (Ꜣ rendering r, a well-known issue, moreover, in the old period a frequent equivalence between ḥ and ġ [ġain of Arabic] has been assessed). 19 The derivative ḥꜢty (*ġurti > *ḥurti > *ḥūt?, Coptic ϨНT) “heart” has been compared to Indo-European cord-. The dental rendering of r = d is also known (e.g., in the Semitic word ʾabdu “servant,” written in the Egyptian script of the second millennium b.c. ʾprw), so that the opposition between r (= d) and Ꜣ (= r) is maintained, unless there is a dissimilation. 20 A probable pronunciation *duġura(u)t would not differ too much from Dug(h?)urasu. 21 In an oral transcription from a foreign language, a peculiar hearing feature of some sounds is also likely. According to this assumption, Iny, who left to Byblos, did not leave Egypt, a comprehensive land of which he was unaware, but Dugurasu (= R-ḥꜢt-?) “the Nile mouth,” or “the borders,” where perhaps impressive monuments announced the entrance into Egypt, and the people of Ebla sent their goods not to Egypt, but to 15. W. Spiegelberg, “La ville de Prw-nfr dans le Delta,” REA I (1925), pp. 215–17; B. Grdseloff, BIFAO 45 (1945), pp. 181–83; M. Bietak, “The Thutmose Stronghold of Perunefer,” Egyptian Archaeology 26 (2005), pp. 13–27. 16. J. Vandier, Manuel d’archéologie égyptienne, Paris 1958, III. La statuaire, pp. 204–9; Labib Habachi, Tell el-Dab’a I. The Site and its Connections with Avaris and Piramesse, Vienna 2001, pp. 91, 106. Cf. T. Schneider, “Foreign Egypt. Egyptology and the Concept of Cultural Appropriation,” Ä&L 13 (2003), pp. 155–61, esp. p. 161. 17.  A. H. Gardiner, Ancient Egyptian Onomastica, Vol. I, Oxford 1947, A 109, p. 34*. 18.  On the translation of foreign words in Egypt at the beginning of the second millennium b.c., see my paper cited in n. 1. 19.  T. Schneider, “Beiträge zur sogenannten ‘Neueren Komparatistik’,” LingAeg 5 (1997), pp. 189– 209, especially p. 92 (seventh triad), with references no. 21 p. 196 (ʾḥꜢ = Arabic daġara), no. 60 p. 201 (ḥꜢt = Arabic ġurra), no. 61 p. 202, and again no. 66 and 67, no. 112 p. 208: the majority of the ascertained correspondences. Semitic g corresponds instead to Egyptian k, cf. Kbn = Gubla, Ikrt = Ugarit. 20.  Another possible example is A. Roccati, “Un drago egiziano,” XII Incontro Italiano di Linguistica Camito-semitica (Afroasiatica), Ragusa 2007, pp. 321–322: rrk >/= drak-on and lacer-ta (cf. V. Pisani, “Kleinasiatische Wörter und Laute im Griechischen und Latein,” Die Sprache 5 (1959), pp. 143–49). Furthermore: T. Schneider, Ausländer in Ägypten während des Mittleren Reiches und der Hyksoszeit. Teil 2. Die ausländische Bevölkerung, Wiesbaden 2003, pp. 117–18. Cf. A. Roccati, RSO 74 (2000), p. 2, and idem, “Ricerche sulla scrittura egizia – VII. Il sillabario e la scrittura egizia,” in Atti dell’Accademia delle Scienze di Torino, Classe di Scienze Morali, Storiche e Filologiche, 142 (2008), pp. 55–65. 21.  Cf. W. Von Soden, Grundriss der Akkadischen Grammatik, 3rd ed., Rome 1998, p. 34 (intervocalic g may become ġ) and pp. 34–36 on the spirantization of t.

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Dugurasu, “the mouths of the river,” from where they would have proceeded to their destinations (the royal residence in this period is always called ẖnw “the center” or “the interior”). This way Dugurasu as a Northeastern gate to Egypt would have had a similar role to that of Elephantine / Aswan on its Southern side. In a Ramesside magical text r n Ꜣbw “the entrance (?) of Elephantine” is mentioned, what might remind r ḥꜢt “the entrance at the beginning”. 22 During the Middle Kingdom the Southern and Northern borders are named r-ʾꜢ “the gate (of foreign countries)”. 23 That terminology would show already a uniform treatment of North and South. At last R-ḥꜢt might be also the origin of the word that from the second millennium b.c. referred to delta and its marshes (together with their inhabitants): idḥw, retained in Assyrian cuneiform as (na)thu and in Greek as (να)θω, where the initial part Dugu (=R-ḥ(Ꜣt)) might hide, after the disappearance of the ending –t, the weakening of the sound Ꜣ, and the aspiration of ḥ: all these phenomena are regular and well known. 22.  A. Roccati, Magica Taurinensia. Il grande papiro magico di Torino e i suoi duplicati, Analecta Orientalia 56, Rome, 2011, p. 92. 23.  H. Kees, “Zu einigen Fachausdrücken der altägyptischen Provinzialverwaltung,” ZÄS 70 (1934), pp. 83–86; cfr. E. Edel, “Zur Lesung und Bedeutung einiger Stellen in der biographischen Inschrift SꜢ-rnpwt’s I,” ZÄS 87 (1962), pp. 96–107, esp. p. 97.

More on Pre-Sargonic Umma Salvatore F. Monaco Rome

At the 56th RAI in Barcelona I presented some results of a preliminary analysis of ED IIIb tablets from Umma, belonging to the Rosen Collection, now at the Cornell University. Presently, 283 texts dealing with cereals have been published in the volume 14 of the CUSAS series, with the title “Early Dynastic mu-iti Cereal Texts in the Cornell University Cuneiform Collections”. A second volume with all the remaining pre-Sargonic texts from Umma, presently under preparation, will be published as volume 20 of the CUSAS series. 1 The elements with historical relevance, discussed at the 56th RAI in Barcelona, were the discovery of new governors of Umma, and their positioning in chronological sequence, as well as a tentative synchronism with the corresponding Lagashite rulers. During the past year I had the opportunity to discuss the matter with colleagues, who were particularly concerned about the substantial extension in time of the whole period, necessary to accommodate the new governors. It was suggested that one of them (Edin) may have not existed at all as governor, and another (Meannedu) could have ruled Zabalam instead of Umma. Purpose of the present paper is to make an assessment based upon all the available documentary evidences. Reference is made to the following chronological table, which was already presented in Barcelona, with only minor adjustments in the duration of some reigns. Of the three “new” governors, the name of Usar-HI, probably to be read Usarx-​ du10, occurs several times in the texts. In three tablets from Zabalam, one dealing with cereals, dated to the first year, and two contracts dated to the fourth year, Usar-HI is recorded with the title of ensi2 Ummaki, in the last two texts in conjunction with the name of two subsequent sanga-administrators of Zabalam. The name of Usar-HI occurs also in the colophon of five tablets, three of the Cornell collection, and two of a private collection in Florence, all dated to the seventh year, which record the yield of fields in the Umma territory. The name is preceded by the toponym Ummaki, and followed by the year formula, and, although the title of ensi2 is not recorded, there is little doubt that the reference is to the governor of Umma. For what concerns the other two rulers, in the available texts they bear the title of ensi2, without reference to the town governed. The name of Edin, which occurs frequently in the tablets of the concerned period, is recorded as ensi2 in one text Author’s note:  The present edition of this paper, revised for publication, has profited of suggestions from Hartmut Waetzoldt, who has kindly read the paper after its presentation at RAI. 1.  The texts are being worked out by P. Notizia and G. Visicato.

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Fig. 1.

only, dated to the sixth year. 2 The name is in a break of the tablet, and only the initial and the final parts of the sign are preserved. The suggested alternative reading giš-ša3-ki-du10 shall be excluded not only because, in order to accommodate the four signs, they should have been impressed somewhat up and down, and not in a row as the space on the tablet would have allowed, but especially for the reason that the two end wedges preserved in the tablet are compatible with the sign “edin” and not with the sign “du10” (see figure below). (Fig. 1) Besides, there are several significant reasons why Edin could have been a governor of Umma. One consideration made in Barcelona was that members of the ruler’s family were frequently appointed to the highest duties in the town administration. Edin was certainly a member of the ruler’s family, since he held the office of minister (sukkal) under the reign of Ila, as reported in text CUSAS 14, 056 dated to the fifth year. Moreover, he was most probably a brother of Giššakidu, since their names occur several times together in texts where they receive the same amounts of commodities, 3 and at least in one case Giššakidu receives the commodities on behalf of Edin. 4 In view of the short duration of the reign of Giššakidu, it is not surprising that his place was taken by one of his brothers, in such case Edin. Analogous situations are known for example with the Lagashite rulers Eannatum and Enannatum I, the Akkadians Rimuš and Maništušu, and the Ur III kings Amar-Suen and Šu-Suen. 5 In addition to the above considerations, it shall be noted that the name of Edin occurs also in the colophon of a tablet dated to the seventh year, 6 in analogy to other texts where the name of the governor occurs without title. (Fig. 2) The third governor, Meannedu, is recorded with the title of ensi2, but without the mention of the governed town, in three tablets from Zabalam, 7 as well as in two contracts for the sale of plots of land, 8 and in association with the year formula in 2.  CUSAS 14, 116. 3.  Cf. for instance CUNES 52–10–005 (sheep), dated to the fifth year of Ila. 4.  CUSAS 14, 152. 5.  Unless Šu-Suen was the son of Amar-Suen (cf. OBO 160/3, p. 123). 6.  CUSAS 14, 199. 7.  MS 2824 (undated), MS3791/28 (dated to the 26th year), and (CDLI no.) P252810 (dated to the 28th year). 8. 152–2745 (dated to year 5) and 153–2746 (dated to year 27), both published by T. Ozaki in “Three Early Dynastic Sumerian Sales Contracts of Immovables Housed in the Okayama Orient Museum (JAC 23, 2008, pp. 55–64). It shall be noted that the third tablet (154–2747), dated with the formula “u4-ba TE.UŠ.GIM ensi2 ummaki e2-gal-e-si sanga zabala6ki–(year 3), mentions a governor and a sangaadministrator otherwise unattested in the corpus of ED IIIb texts from Umma. Most probably this tablet

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Fig. 2.

the colophon of a tablet dealing with sheep. 9 Since the texts, where Meannedu is recorded as governor, come mostly from Zabalam, it would seem logical to assume that the town ruled was implicitly Zabalam itself. However, there are several evidences against such hypothesis. First of all, the texts which can be provenanced with certainty to Zabalam record without exceptions in the colophon the name of the sanctuary of Inanna, often in conjunction with the name of the sanga-administrator, and/or the toponym zabala6. This circumstance certifies that the city administrative archive was located inside the sanctuary complex, where the sanga-administrator performed his duties. Indeed, there is no mention in the texts from Zabalam of a local palace (e2-gal), which could have hosted the governor as well as an administrative archive. Besides, the association of the name of the sanga-administrator of Zabalam with the name of the governor of Umma is attested at least from the time of Ur-Lumma, 10 as well as at the time of Meannedu’ successor Usar-HI. 11 Finally, belongs to a later period, since at least two individuals listed in the text (Lugal-KA and Tir-ku3 um-mi-a) occur in tablets dated to years 6–7 of Lugalzagesi (AO 15540, A 25419, YBC 05672, NBC 6889). 9.  MS 3791/16 (dated to the 29th year). 10.  CUNES 52–10–002: ur-lum-ma ensi2 lugal-DU sanga / dinanna (text dealing with sheep, dated to the second year). 11.  Cf fn 4 above.

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there is no documentary evidence in this period for a substantial political change in the administration of the Umma province, which would have been implied by the presence of an independent governor of Zabalam. On the contrary, the texts show a continuity in the good relationship between the two cities, with high functionaries from Umma providing eminent persons of Zabalam with various genres of food, as shown for instance in one tablet from Zabalam, 12 where Barairnun, wife of Giššakidu, donated bread and beer to a number of individuals, starting with the wife of the sanga-administrator, and including the wives of the city elder, the chief-scribe and others. It is remarkable that, in analogy with the Lagashite practices of the ruler’s wives being active in the city administration, the available documentation provide evidence that similar duties were performed in Umma, for example by Barairnun, as mentioned above. For what concerns the length of reign of Meannedu, on the basis of prosopography, we can safely attribute to his rulership the tablets dated to the 30th, 31st, and 32nd year of an otherwise unspecified governor. 13 On such basis, we are now in position to confirm the chronology of the Umma governors reported in the table above, as well as the synchronisms with the Lagashite rulers, as shown in the following table. The timescale has been arranged with respect to year 0, defined as the year when Lugalzagesi defeated Lagash, i.e., the 8th year of URUKAgina reign, as reported in his own inscription. 14 In this inscription URUKAgina (possibly to be read Uruinimgina/Iriinimgina) 15 initially refers to Lugalzagesi simply as “the man of Umma” (lu2 ummaki), and only at the end of the inscription he mentions him by name and title (ensi2 ummaki). Since the defeat of Lagash represented for Lugalzagesi the starting point for his ascension to the throne of Uruk, in lack of other documentary evidences, we tentatively assume the length of his ensiship to be 8 years, according to the highest available date in the texts. 16 All what is known about U’u is from the inscriptions of Lugalzagesi, where he is recorded as his father and predecessor in the government of Umma. No texts make reference to him as ensi2, although one cannot exclude that some of the available tablets may belong to his ensiship. Until new evidences will become available, it is assumed that his reign was short, although not quantifiable. His predecessor, Usar-HI, ruled at least for 7 years, while the duration of the reign of Meannedu can be assumed confidently to be 32 years, according to the highest available date. The two likely brothers, Giššakidu and Edin, ruled as a minimum respectively 4 and 7 years, while the two cousins, Ur-Lumma and Ila, ruled at least 12 years each. In overall, the period comprised between the reigns of Ur-Lumma and Lugalzagesi 12.  CUSAS 14, 252, dated to the 4th year of Giššakidu’ reign. 13.  BIN VIII, 63 (dated to the 30th year), CUSAS 14, 226 (dated to the 31st year), and CUNES 51–07–032 (dated to the 32nd year). 14.  AO 4162. 15.  On the different readings of the Lagashite rulers’ names see J. Bauer Der Vorsargonische Abschnitt der Mesopotamischen Geschichte, in Bauer, J., Englund, R. K. and Krebernik, M. Mesopotamien: Späturuk-Zeit und Frühdynastische Zeit, Annäherungen 1 (= OBO 160/1), pp. 475–477, and A. Westenholz, The Old Akkadian Period: History and Culture, in Sallaberger, W. and Westenholz, A. Mesopotamien Akkade-Zeit und die Ur III-Zeit, Annäherungen 3, OBO 160/3, p. 37. 16.  Cf. NBC 6889, BMC 6, A 7554 (all dated to the 7th year of Lugalzagesi, entitled ensi2 ummaki), and NBC 10260 where the datation to the 8th year shall be attributed to Lugalzagesi, on the basis of analogy to a number of similar texts.

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Fig. 3.

can be estimated to have lasted not less than 85 years, by assigning arbitrarily 4 years to the rulership of U’u. (Fig. 3) To establish the synchronisms with the governors of Lagash one shall make reference to the well-known inscription of Enmetena, which recalls several events in the history of the long-lasting border dispute from the time of Mesilim. 17 It is important to note that when Enmetena defeated Ur-Lumma, who was attempting to obtain control of the border territory of Guedenna, he was a general of the Lagashite army under his father’s (Enannatum I) reign. This is clearly expressed in the inscription, since all the mentioned rulers were recorded with the appropriated title, while in this passage Enmetena bears no title. The inscription proceeds with Ur-Lumma being dethroned, as a consequence of his defeat, and replaced by Ila, at the time sanga-administrator of Zabalam. Eventually, also Ila would have started 17.  AO 3004 (= FAOS 5, I Ent. 28), NBC 2501 (= FAOS 5, I Ent. 29).

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questioning the territorial border with Lagash, since the inscription of Enmetena, who had by now succeeded Enannatum I as the governor of Lagash, and this time bears the title of ensi2, ends with his invocation to Enlil and Ningirsu to curse potential transgressors. One shall also consider that Ila could not have taken such initiative at the beginning of his reign, because of the fresh memory of Ur-Lumma defeat. On the other hand, Enmetena, who was the successful general against Umma at the time of Enannatum I reign, appears quite cautious in his inscription, which may indicate that he was just at the beginning of his ensiship. These circumstances allow us to establish a hypothetical, although likely, synchronism, i.e., Enmetena 2 = Ila 12. Consequently, of the 85 years estimated for the whole period, 22 precede Enmetena reign, and 21 follow Enannatum II reign, with the remaining 42 years to be shared between the two rulers. It is worth to note that, while for the last three governors of Lagash we have available a few hundreds of dated texts, which give us confidence about their length of reign, there are only three texts attributable to Enmetena ensiship, one dated to his 17th year, which mentions Enentarsi with the title of sanga, 18 and the other two texts dated to his 19th year. 19 For what concerns Enannatum II, only one text, dated to the 5th year, can be attributed to him, although the name is not preserved, for the mention of Enentarsi as sanga-administrator of Girsu. 20 For obvious reasons, the attribution of such text to Enmetena shall be excluded, while the tablet ITT V 9236, dated to the 27th year of an unreported ruler, can be reasonably assigned to him. On account of the extremely scarcity of dated texts for these two rulers, the preserved years shall therefore be considered as the lower limits and not as the actual lengths of their respective reigns. As a conclusion, we can put in evidence that the long career of Enentarsi as sanga-administrator of Girsu, in the order of 25 years, prior to becoming the successor of Enannatum II in the government of Lagash, accounts for the short duration not only of his own reign, but also of that of his son Lugalanda. 18.  MLC 1497 (= BIN VIII 352) 19.  AO 4037 (= RTC 16), and AO 4156 mentioning Enentarsi as sanga-administrator of Girsu. 20.  AO 4238.

Professional Figures and Administrative Roles in the Garden (ĝeškiri6) Management of Ur III Ĝirsu Angela Greco Rome–Berlin

§1. Introduction This paper aims at offering a description of the working structure of the garden management with regard to the professional figures involved in this economic reality in the Neo-Sumerian Ĝirsu province and their professional background. It also presents evidence showing that the distinction among working levels implied a certain degree of competences of the garden professionals. Besides, I will argue that the royal propaganda of the Ur III Dynasty tends to highlight the attempts at the rationalization of the territory of the kingdom and its resources, as far as this aspect of the agricultural activity is concerned. 1 In one of his hymns Šulgi, second ruler of the Ur III Dynasty, states: Hymn Šulgi A l. 28–33: ĝiri3 hu-mu-gur kaskal kalam-ke4 si he2-em-sa2-sa2/ danna hu-mu-gi e2-gal-la he2-bi2-du3/ za3-ba kiri6 (SAR) he2-bi2-gub ki ni2 dub2-bu he2-bi2-ĝar/ kibe2 lu2 zu-a he2-em-mi-tuš/ sig-ta du igi-nim-ta du-e/ a2-šedx (MUŠ3.DI)-bi-še3 ni2 he2-eb-ši-te-en-te-en I organized the ways and put in order the highways; I established stations where I built palaces, at which side I planted gardens and resting-places and where I settled experts, so that who comes from North or from South can come near to its fresh shade (and refresh). 2

The lu2 zu-a settled in the garden by the king, as reported by Šulgi A, seems to recall the term um-mi-a, literally expert, 3 a professional figure employed in garden 1. This contribution arises from the development of some aspects concerning the professional figures involved in the garden management in the Neo-Sumerian Ĝirsu province treated in A. Greco, L’amministrazione dei giardini (ĝeškiri6) a Ĝirsu nel periodo neo-sumerico. Ph.D. diss., Sapienza, Rome – Freie Universität, Berlin. Abbreviations used here follow those of Cuneiform Digital Library Initiative (CDLI), available at: http://cdli.ucla.edu/Tools/abbrev.htlm. 2.  See J. Klein, Three Šulgi Hymns: Sumerian Royal Hymns Glorifying King Šulgi of Ur (RamatGan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 1981). and D. R. Frayne, Ur III Period (2112–2004 b.c.) (RIME 3/2; Toronto/Buffalo/London: Toronto University Press, 1997). 3.  There is a vast literature on the role of the experts and their designations and features in Ancient Mesopotamia. On this topic, see, for instance, K. Volk, “Edubba’a und Edubba’a-Literatur: Rätsel und Lösungen”, ZA 90 (2000) 1–30; I. Winter, “ ‘Surpassing Work’: Mastery of Material and the Value of Skilled Production in Ancient Sumer”, in Culture through Object: Ancient Near Eastern Studies in

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Fig.1.  Working structure of the gardens: internal and external management.

management, and maybe it could refer to all the skilled professional figures of the gardens as well. In order to understand the words of the royal propaganda, however, it is necessary to highlight the working structure of the gardens. The working structure of the gardens followed two directions: the first one was essentially based on bureaucratic and managerial aspects aiming at dialoguing with other management institutions and the central administration, role played by the santana; the other one was represented by the effective workers devoted to the maintenance of the plots, generically called nu-ĝeškiri6, gardeners. The nu-ĝeškiri6 were following an internal hierarchy, including those who worked, a-bala and du3a-ku5, and those who supervised the workers and were responsible for the yield, um-mi-a/nu-ĝeškiri6. Each of these professional figures, as expected, was the result of different formative cursus. From an administrative point of view, the internal hierarchy of the garden is reflected by pattern roles according to the typology of the document. Simply a-bala and du3-a-ku5 workers mostly never act, but rather they occur as ‘receivers’ in texts recording the distribution of payments (mainly of barley, še-ba) and as ‘inspected’ in texts recording the workers’ inspections (gurum2 aka). The um-mi-a/ nu-ĝeškiri6 played as providers (ki ≈ ta) or supervisors (ugula) of working personnel or yield and by-products of the gardens where they were employed. In texts recording yield inspections (ĝeškiri6 kab2 du11-ga) or measurements of gardens (ĝeškiri6 gid2-da), their name is simply juxtaposed to the amount of fruits or to the measured area. The santana, in turn, acted as supervisors (ugula) or they acquired (kišib) the barley amounts addressed to garden personnel or took in charge the personnel itself (i3-dab5); moreover, they acted as conveyors (ĝiri3) or supervisors (ugula) of fruits and palm by-products, inspected or simply recorded, on behalf of the central administration. Honour of P. R. S. Moorey (Eds. T. Potts, M. Roaf, D. Stein; Oxford: Griffith Institute, 2003) 403–421; D.  Nadali, and L. Verderame, “Experts to war: Master Behind the Ranks of the Assyrian Army”, in Proceeding of the 52e Rencontre Internationale, Münster (forthcoming), with references to earlier studies. L. Verderame, with regard to the ummânu of the Neo-Assyrian sources, argues that ummânu was the most common term used to indicate a particular skilful professional, underling the “subjective” character (coming from popular acknowledgment) of such definition.

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§2.  The Skilled Workers The figures employed in the ĝeškiri6 at the lowest hierarchic level are the workers known as a-bala and du3-a-ku5. It is not clear which kind of specific work they performed. It might be possible that they were respectively employed in the watering of the plots, the a-bala, 4 and the trimming and grafting of the trees, the du3-a-ku5. 5 However, it seems clear that they were employed exclusively in gardens and they were occasionally supported by generic work forces, above all gan-dab5. W. Heimpel 6 notes that the term SIG7-a seems to refer only to a-bala workers as a synonym for this category of workers in texts concerning garden management. Generally, the dichotomy played by a-bala and du3-a-ku5 is reflected by SIG7-a and du3-a-ku5, as shown by some texts: MVN 18, 360 [(-/-/-)] r. 21: [nu]-ĝeškiri6 SIG7-a u3/ du3-a-ku5-me r. 21: they are gardeners, SIG7-a and du3-a-ku5 MVN 6, 499 (-/-/-) r. 1–5: 20 la2 1 ĝuruš/ 12 ĝuruš SIG7-a/ 7 du3-a-ku5 / blank line/ Ur-dNin-ĝir2-su santana ⟨i3-dab5⟩ r. 1–5: 19 workers, 12 workers SIG7-a, 7 du3-a-ku5, Ur-Ninĝirsu the santana took in charge

W. Heimpel 7 suggests that the term SIG7-a means “blind person” and compares the SIG7-a workers with the igi-nu-du8, who also co-occur with du3-a-ku5 in Pre-Sargonic Lagaš under the supervision of gardeners. In the Pre-Sargonic sources, the du3-aku5 and igi-nu-du8, but especially the igi-nu-du8, worked under the supervision of gardeners or fullers, showing no particular sectoralization, if not for the water use. 8 However, P. Garelli, D. Charpin, and J. M. Durand 9 suggest the metaphorical use of the expression blind at work, to denote unskilled workmen, and this has to be assumed here too. 10

4.  The name of this professional seems to mean water drawer. W. Heimpel quotes the lexical tradition, which compares lu2 a-bala with dâlu (water drawer). Cf. W. Heimpel, “Blind workers in Ur III Texts”, KASKAL 6 (2009) 44. 5.  The name of this professional could mean: those who cut what is planted. For a different interpretation of this designation, see G. J. Selz, Altsumerische Verwaltungstexte aus Lagash:Teil 1 (FAOS 15/1, Wiesbaden 1989) 72. 6.  See W. Heimpel (2009) 43–48, with previous bibliography. 7.  CAD Š s.v. šišû, person with an eye defect. lú igi.SIG7.a.bal, lú igi.ši.ši = ši-šu-ú OB Lu B iv 43f.; ŠI.ŠI = ši-šu-ú, ši-ši-i-tum Proto-Diri 101 c-d. 8.  R. Prentice, The Exchange of Goods and Services in Pre-Sargonic Lagash (AOAT 368; Münster: Ugarit-Verlag, 2010) 23–26. 9.  P. Garelli, D. Charpin and J. M. Durand, “Rôle des prisonniers et des déportés à l’époque médioassyrienne,” in Gesellschaft und Kultur im alten Vorderasien (ed. H. Klengel; Schriften zur Geschichte und Kultur des Alten Orients 15; Berlin: Akademie-Verlag, 1982) 69–75. These scholars also refer to the igi-nu-du8 employed in gardens or under fullers during the Pre-Sargonic times stressing that these workers were unlikely effective blinds. Therefore, when the expression refers to workers, it is to be intended as workforces with a certain formation, but not specialization. 10.  Within the garden context, the a-bala workers could have been intended as unskilled in comparison with the du3-a-ku5, since they were devoted to the watering of the plots, rather than to the specific care of the plants.

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In Neo-Sumerian times both a-bala and du3-a-ku5 seem to have worked, as a rule, exclusively in garden plots. It is then plausible to assume that they were specialized workers and required a learning process, which presumably took place directly at work, according to the various typologies of garden cultivation. Ur III texts use three different terms for gardeners, nu-ĝeškiri6, nu-ĝeškiri6 ĝeš gal-gal, and nu-ĝeškiri6 ĝeštin, depending on the principal kind of cultivated crops cultivated: nu-ĝeškiri6 refers to the personnel in charge of palm groves and orchards; date palms present some complexity in propagation and development matters. Their productivity, indeed, depends on the interaction of male and female elements and on the care of offshoots from the “mother-plant”. These implications require the employment of high-skilled labour, from the forced pollination treatment until the transplanting of offshoots. 11 nu-ĝeškiri6 ĝeš gal-gal and nu-ĝeškiri6 ĝeštin were professional labels respectively associated to timber trees and vineyards.

Vineyards and orchards require as well skilled workers as a series of other conditions to flourish: starting from the quantity of water required, up to the different phases of their treatment respect to the date palms. Due to their constant needing of water supply vineyards and orchards were planted close to the watercourses, in kind of plots called KA.A.DU. 12 Such workers are labelled a-bala (mostly identified by the formula SIG7-a), du3a-ku5, and um-mi-a, always reflecting the same hierarchy and fixed competences. The a-bala and du3-a-ku5 tend to occur always in the same garden, suggesting the presence of permanent staff employed in each plot. Sometimes they appear in family groups, including a pater familias, a wife, and their sons. STA 20 (Š 47/ii/-) attests the employment of the Atu’s family, his wife and his sons, besides two other workers, in a garden. The text does not record Atu’s presence, even though the administration uses his name to identify the workers related to him. STA 20 (Š 47/ii/-) o. ii, 15–23: 0.0.3.0 dam A-tu/ 0.1.0.0 uš2 SIG7-a Lu2-ga/ blank line/ 0.1.0.0 Ur3-reba-du7/ uš2 0.0.4.0 Lu2-bala-sa6-ga/ dumu A-tu-me/ 0.1.0.0 Sukkal-ša3-[x]/ 0.1.0.0 d Ig-alim/ ĝeškiri6 e2-du10-[us2] o. ii, 15–23: 30 litres (of barley for) the wife of Atu, 60 litres (of barley for) Luga the SIG7-a (who has) died, 60 litres (of barley for) Urebadu, 40 litres (of barley for) Lu-balasaga (who has) died, they are sons of Atu; 60 litres (of barley for) Sukkalša-[. . .], 60 litres (of barley for) Ig-alim, in the ĝeškiri6 e2-du10-us2

At this level, the transmission of skill competences probably took place directly at work, in an oral and empiric way, as it is to be expected in agriculture. The best ex11. For a wide overview on the date palms and its by-products in the cuneiform sources, see B. Landsberger, The Date Palm and its By-products according to the Cuneiform Sources (AfO Beih. 17; Graz, 1967) and M. P. Streck, “Dattelpalme und Tamariske in Mesopotamien nach dem akkadischen Streitgespräch”, ZA 94 (2004) 250–290. With regard to the complexity of this kind of culture, see A. Zaid, Date Palm Cultivation, in http://www.fao.org/DOCREP/006/Y4360E/Y4360E00.htm (2002). 12.  This term occurs mostly in documents from Ĝirsu; M. Civil assumed that this designation of plots indicates areas next to a watercourse suited for fruit trees and vineyards. See M. Civil, The Farmer’s Instruction. A Sumerian Agricultural Manual (Barcelona: AuOr S 5, 1994) 131–132.

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ample is represented by the literary composition known as Farmer’s Instruction, 13 in which a father instructs his son about the agricultural works, trying to transfer his wisdom to the next generation, surely recalling an oral practice.

§3.  The Experts Among the skilled workers, a preeminent position was played by nu-ĝeškiri6/ um-mi-a, who performed the administrative tasks of the internal garden management, rather than the effective work. The identification between um-mi-a and nuĝeš kiri6 can be demonstrated by comparing two texts: SNAT 1, 216 (-/-/-) and HLC 3, 391 [(-/-/-)]. Both texts deal with the governor’s family gardens, showing that the workers defined um-mi-a ensi2 in the first tablet are the same defined nu-ĝeškiri6 in the second one. The correspondence is illustrated by two gardeners, Ur-Nanše and Lu-girizal, employed in the gardens of the governor’s son, Ur-BaU the saĝĝa of NinMAR.KI. SNAT 1, 216 (-/-/-) o. 1–8: 1 Ur-dNanše/ 1 Lu2-giri17-zal/ ĝeškiri6 Ur-dBa-U2 saĝĝa/ 1 Lu2-dNin-ĝir2-su/ ĝeš kiri6 Du-du/ 1 Ur-dLamma/ ĝeškiri6 dam Ur-dBa-U2/ 1 Ur-dŠa-u18-ša/ ĝeškiri6 Urd Lamma ´ensi2` r. 1–2: um-mi-a ensi2 ´x`/ ĝeškiri6 BI [. . ..] ´x` mah [. . .] HLC 3, 391 [(-/-/-)] o. 1–14: [. . .]/ [. . .] iku ki-[. . .]/ Ur-dNanše nu-ĝeškiri6` / ĝeškiri6 Erim2-ze2-ze2-na/ 1/2 1/4 iku 5 sar ĝešĝešnimbar ur2-ba nu-ur2-ma KA.A.DU/ Lu2-giri17-zal nu-ĝeškiri6 / 1 1/2 1/4 iku ĝešĝešnimbar ur2-ba nu-ur2-ma KA.A.DU/ 1/4 iku ki-ĝal2 / Ur-eš3ku3-ga nu-ĝeškiri6 / 1 1/2 1/4 iku ĝešĝešnimbar ur2-ba nu-ur2-ma KA.A.DU/1/4 iku ĝeš ĝešnimbar/ Ur-Šul nu-ĝeškiri6/ ĝeškiri6 e-bu-gu/ ĝeškiri6 Ur-dBa-U2 saĝĝa dNinMAR.KI

When the term nu-ĝeškiri6 occurs in texts among other professional figures, it is to be considered as a gardener of the um-mi-a level. In fewer cases um-mi-a is intended as the expert of other professional sectors, as lu2-bappir, 14 brewers, šidim, 15 builders, or dub-sar, 16 scribes. Therefore, when it is not clarified by the context, the following expression occurs: um-mi-a ĝeškiri6, as shown by Priests and Officials 101 App. 4a-b (-/-/-): Priests and Officials 101 App. 4a-b (-/-/-) r. ii, 25: 21 um-mi-a ĝeškiri6

A text, MVN 22 31 (-/-/-), shows that the competence of the um-mi-a/nu-ĝeškiri6 was territorially linked to a specific area in a palm grove. According to the size of the plots, there were one or more gardeners in a single garden as guarantor of their portion of plot as well as its trees. The text offers the description of the gardens themselves, which were subdivided in cultivated (not explicated), irrigated (de2), and uncultivated surfaces (ki-ĝal2), giving also the relative number of date palms. 13.  On this composition, see M. Civil (1994). 14.  Cf. WMAH 175 (S 46/vi/-). 15.  Especially in Garšana’s documents. 16.  Cf. Priests and Officials 101 App. 4a-b (-/-/-) and UTI 6, 3511 (-/-/-) from Umma.

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Table from MVN 22, 31 um-mi-a

Cultivated Plot

Irrigated Plot

Uncultivated Plot

Palms

E2-hi-li

220 sar

30 sar

20 sar

80

Uš

270 sar

63 ½ sar

/

90

Dim3-mi

410 sar

70 sar

90 sar

80

Ur-mes

190 sar

80 sar

60 sar

30

Ur-dHendur-saĝ 25 sar ĝeštin 10 sar ĝešpeš3

/

/

15

Šeš-kal-la

490 sar

50 sar

/

6

1.615 sar (5,8 ha ca.)

293 ½ sar (1,05 ha ca.) 170 sar (0,61 ha)

A-kal-la

520 sar

20 sar

1

520 sar (1,87 ha ca.)

20 sar (0,07 ha ca.)

Garden

kiri6 Nanše

ĝeš d

50

/

345 40 40

kiri6 Ištaran

ĝeš d

As shown in the table above, in a single garden of 2.078 sar ca. (7,4 ha ca.), as in the case of ĝeškiri6 dNanše, there were 345 palms and six um-mi-a. The average is 346 sar ca. (1,2 ha ca.) and approximately 57 palms per um-mi-a. In the ĝeškiri6 dIštaran, measuring 540 sar (almost 2 ha.) with only 40 palms, there was, instead, only one um-mi-a. According to J. Renger, during the 3rd Millennium, guarantors and supervisors of the working-teams were recruited directly among the work forces. 17 We can find evidence of this rule in the internal kinship relations among the workers, suggesting that, at this level too, the professional skills were inherited inside the family and directly at the work place. As already discussed, a-bala and du3-a-ku5 could belong to the same family. Now, the next table show us that both a-bala and du3-a-ku5 could become um-mi-a. 18

Lu2-niĝir Text/ Date

Role

Function

MVN 12, 297 Š 48

SIG7-a

receiver

MVN 6, 298 AS 2

um-mi-a ki ≈ ta

17.  Cf. J. Renger, “Handwerk und Handwerker im alten Mesopotamien. Eine Einleitung”, AoF 23 (1996) 227: “Handwerker waren wie andere Beschäftigte institutioneller Haushalte in Arbeitsteams organisiert, die einem Aufseher (ugula/waklum) oder anderen übergeordneten Funktionären eines Haushaltes unterstellt waren. Dies gilt insbesondere für das 3. Jt. und die altbabylonische Zeit. Die Aufseher (ugula) stammten wohl in der Regel aus der beaufsichtigten Gruppe selbst. Man wird sie als eine Art Vorarbeiter oder Vormann bezeichnen, die der Administration gegenüber für die Gruppe verantwortlich waren”. 18.  A text from Umma, Nisaba 11 27 (-/-/-) records the presence of 40 ĝuruš um-mi-a and 1 SIG7-a ĝuruš um-mi-a. Therefore, it seems plausible that there were more um-mi-a recruited among the du3a-ku5 than among the a-bala workers (in this direction should also go the metaphorical interpretation of blind/not-specialized workers), but that workers pertaining to both categories could then become ‘experts’, since it seems to have been, especially in these cases, a purely administrative career advancement, rather than an actual maturation regarding their profession.

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Bi2-du11-i3-sa6 Text

Role

Function

HSS 4, 10 Š 48

du3-a-ku5 receiver

MVN 17, 55 AS 4

um-mi-a

ki ≈ ta

We have here two examples: the first one is represented by Lu-niĝir, recorded as SIG7-a, so to be intended as a-bala, in Š 48 and acting as um-mi-a in AS 2; the second one is represented by Biduisa, who acted as du3-a-ku5 in Š 48 and as um-mi-a in AS 4. However, sons of um-mi-a did not necessarily inherited the father’s office and it seems that a-bala and du3-a-ku5 did not necessarily over-cross their status. A good example is represented by the case of Diĝira, um-mi-a of the ĝeškiri6 Tira-aš2, who is documented in the same garden from AS 2 until IS 2 (19 years), and by his son E-luti, employed in the same garden as du3-a-ku5 worker. The first attestation of E-luti is in Š 48, shown by HSS 4, 10 (Š 48/i/-), text recording the barley-payments of du3-a-ku5 workers under the supervision of Gu’umu santana. HSS 4, 10 (Š 48/i/-) r. i, 29–31: 0.0.3.0 E2-lu2-ti/ 0.0.3.0/ ĝeškiri6 Ti-ra-aš2 r. ii, 14–16: še-ba du3-a-ku5-e-ne/ ⟨i3-dub⟩ du6 ma-nu-ta/ ugula Gu2-u3-⟨⟨gu2⟩⟩-mu ⟨santana⟩ r. i, 29–31: 30 litres (for) E-luti, 30 litres (is the total, addressed to the) ĝeškiri6 Ti-ra-aš2 r. ii, 14–16: barley payments (of) du3-a-ku5, from the (granary) du-manu, the supervisor (is) Gu’umu (santana)

In this text, E-luti receives a monthly ration of 30 litres. Two years later, he is attested in a personnel inspection, MVN 6 298 (AS 2/-/-), among other sons of um-mi-a and du3-a-ku5. As shown in the text, he earned 60 litres of barley and was provided by the um-mi-a Bagara-ziĝu under the supervision of Gu’umu santana: MVN 6, 298 (AS 2/-/-) o. ii, 3–5: DIŠ 0.1.0.0 ⟨še⟩ 4 ⟨tug2⟩ E2-lu2-ti ⟨ du3-a-ku5⟩/ dumu Diĝir-ra ⟨um-mi-a⟩/ ki Ba-gara2-zi-ĝu10 ⟨um-mi-a⟩-ta o. ii, 7: ugula Gu2-u3-mu ⟨santana⟩ o. ii, 3–5: 60 litres (of barley) 4 (garments) for E-luti (du3-a-ku5) son of Diĝira (ummi-a), provided by Bagara-ziĝu (um-mi-a) o. ii, 7: the supervisor (is) Gu’umu (santana)

TUT 143, whose date is lost, but which was redacted during about the end of AmarSuena’s reign, as the presence of Ur-Lisi and Ĝirini as santana suggests, 19 records E-luti in the same position. He earned the same quantity of barley under the supervision of the um-mi-a E-heĝal and was taken in charge by Gu’umu santana. 19.  TCTI 1, 935, which dates back to the 7th year of Amar-Suena’s reign, provides the first attestation of these two santana. The succession of the santana in charge in the Ĝirsu district from the end of the Šulgi’s reign until the first years of Ibbi-Suen’s reign results the best documented in the province. The activities of the single santana of the province are treated in A. Greco, L’amministrazione dei giardini.

174

Angela Greco TUT 143 [(-/-/-)] o. i, 12: 0.1.0.0 E2-lu2-ti ⟨ du3-a-ku5⟩/ E2-he2-ĝal2 ⟨um-mi-a⟩ ugula o. ii, 5: Gu2-u3-mu ⟨santana⟩ i3-dab5 o. i, 12: 60 litres (of barley) 4 (garments) for E-luti (du3-a-ku5), the supervisor (is) E-heĝal (um-mi-a) o. ii, 5: Gu’umu (santana) took in charge

E2-lu2-ti text HSS 4, 10

date Š 48/i/-

payment 30 litres barley

MVN 6, 289 AS 2/ii/- 60 litres barley TUT 143

AS 7 ca.

internal supervision /

external supervision Gu2-u3-mu

Ba-gara2-zi-ĝu10 (ki ≈ ta) Gu2-u3-mu

60 litres of barley E2-he2-ĝal2 (ugula)

Gu2-u3-mu

§4.  The Managers Neo-Sumerian rulers also provided experts at the garden external management. In the prologue of the codex ascribed to Ur-Namma, the king affirms that he planted gardens along the Tigris, Euphrates, and other canal banks and committed them to the santana: Ur-Namma’s Codex: Si. 277: 20 l. 22–29: u4-ba gu2 i7Idigna/ gu2 i7Buranunki/ gu2 i7 du3-a-bi/ ni[dba] nisaĝ/ ša3-[g]e-g[ur7]/ ĝeš he2-em-mi-in-[tag]/ ĝeškiri6 h[e2-e]b-ĝ[a2?-ĝa2]/ santana lugal [he2]-e[b-tuku] At that time (to) the banks of the river Tigris, (to) the banks of the river Euphrates, (to) the banks of all rivers together offerings,.., firstlings, (heart’s) desire offerings I offered there. [. . .] Gardens I planted there. They “acquired” a royal santana 21

The santana already existed before Neo-Sumerian times, 22 so we have to read the king’s words as desire of rationalization of the resources, rather than effective innovation. These professionals were territorially responsible for the expenditures and deliveries pertaining to the gardens in connection with other institutions. From a 20.  See C. Wilcke, “Der Kodex Urnamma (CU): Versuch einer Rekonstruktion” in Riches Hidden in Secret Places. Ancient Near Eastern Studies in Memory of Thordkild Jacobsen (ed. T. Abusch; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2002) 291–333. 21.  C. Wilcke (2002: 309–10) translates: Damals (an?) den Ufern des Tigris. (an) den Ufern des Euphrat, an allen Kanalufern, Opferangaben. . .Erstlingsopfer, Wunschopfer brachte ich dort wirklich dar. [. . .] Gärten [legte] ich dort wirklich an. Sie bekamen wirklich einen königlichen Obergärtner. 22.  Mentions of santana (GAL.NI) are present already in Early Dynastic lists of professions (cf. e.g. LU A, 22, MSL XII, 10). According to P. Steinkeller, GAL.NI was probably the result of a misreading by a Fara (or an earlier) scribe of GAL.NIM, attested in the archaic list LU A of Uruk (see P. Steinkeller, review to Green, M. W./ Nissen, H. J. Zeichenliste der Archaischen Texten aus Uruk; unter Mitarbeit von Peter Damerow und Robert K. Englund (ZATU), ADFU 11, Berlin, 1987, BiOr 52, (1995), 692 and 706). The etymology of the term santana is not clear and the presence of an internal genitive form, santana(-k) only sporadically is evident in the documentation. See D. O. Edzard, Sumerische Rechtsurkunden des III. Jahrtausends aus der Zeit 3. Dynastie von Ur, München, 1968, 116.

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practical point of view, they were responsible for the external management of the gardens and played a role similar to the one played by the scribes of other economic sectors. Therefore, we can presume they shared the scribal curriculum. The learning period was subdivided in two phases: the first providing the basic instruments of scribal system, the second focusing on the sector in which the student wanted to become an official. 23 Scribal training was required to access to all the administrative offices, among them was probably included that of santana. They had their own seals, drew their own balanced accounts, managed the payment of workers in terms of barley and garments, managed the expenditures of fruits and palm by-products directed to the e2 kišib-ba, 24 the most documented of them was run by Ur-abba son of Bazi, or directed to the palace, e2-gal, for cultic purposes or inherent to the balasystem. There is no direct evidence of the different phases of their professional training, except a text from Umma, Nisaba 11, 27 (-/-/-), which shows a santana taking over a šeš-tab-ba, apprentice, and dumu-nita2, boy, connected with a garden area. Nisaba 11, 27 (-/-/-) Umma o. 11–15: 1(c) santana/ 1(AŠ) šeš-tab-ba/ 1(AŠ) dumu-nita2 diri/ 1(DIŠ) dumunita2/ santana i3-dab5 o. 11–15: 1 santana, 1 apprentice, 1 boy, 1 boy in excess, 1 boy, the santana took in charge

Santana were subdivided according to the districts of the province and their competences included more gardens in the same territory. A text, TCTI 2, 2788 (-/-/-), presents the distribution of santana according to the districts: in the text, one of the santana is identified as a scribe’s son. Among the santana of the whole province, only Aga is attested as son of another santana, Lugal-imrua, who was in service during the years of the provincial governor Alla, around Š 39–40. There is no evidence regarding the profession of other santana’s fathers, even in their seals. It is not possible to find traces of them before their attestation as santana and therefore their career developments cannot be tracked back. On the other hand, there are at least two evidences of um-mi-a related to santana in the Ĝirsu province: one is Ur-BaU, called brother of Gamu the santana, who performed only um-mi-a tasks connected to a specific ĝeškiri6 in the e2-duru5 dInanna under the supervision of Gu’umu santana. The other is E-heĝal, son of the santana Gu’umu, whose activity seems to have been not connected with a specific garden. We find both of them in MVN 17, 18 as guarantors of yielded dates; 23.  See H. Waetzoldt, Das Schreiberwesen in Mesopotamien nach den Texten aus neusumerischer Zeit. (Habilitationsschrift, Heidelberg, 1973). 24.  It means warehouse, but it seems to have been a kind of administrative superstructure for the storage and distribution of products, as already shown by H. Brunke for the nakabtum (see H. Brunke, “The nakabtum. An Administrative Superstructure”, KASKAL 5 (2008) 111–26). It seems indeed possible that those structures were involved in different steps of the circulation of garden products. The first implied the transfer of products from the garden to the nakabtum; the second implied the transfer of fruits, both fresh and dry, to the e2 kišib-ba, from where the stored fruit was then distributed to several destinations, fixed by the central administration. The expression e2 kišib-ba of Ur-abba son of Bazi seems to be related to the activity of this scribe, which indeed was based on several physical warehouses. The interaction between the activity of Ur-abba son of Bazi and the santana of the province are analyzed in A. Greco, L’amministrazione dei giardini.

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Table from TCTI 2, 2788 3a NI[M-m]u Ur-dBa-U2 Ab-ba-ĝu10 Gu2-u3-mu

8 santana-me ša3 Ĝir2-suki

Ga-a-mu Ka5a Ur-dIg-alim d[um]u Ša3-da-nu-šar2 dub-s[ar] Ab-ba-ĝ[u10] 2 Ma!-an!-[šum2]

5 ⟨santana-me⟩ ša3 Niĝin6ki

En-lil2-[la2]

d

Ur2-ra-ne2

ša3 Ki-es3-sa2ki

Ur-Ba-gara2

ša3 Ki-nu-nirki

2 A-ga

ša3 Gu2-ab-ba

4 santana-me

ki

a.  Numerals before three names of santana (one per district) suggest the presence of further names, very likely belonging to other santana, since the given total of santana per district comprises them. Conjecturally, it could mean that the “hidden” santana were apprentices, who had not yet achieved their title, or they were santana of minor centres of the districts, as it could be suggested by the absence of contemporary santana, such as Nabi the santana of the peripheral centre of Kisura in the Ĝirsu district.

the former one in the ĝeškiri6 e2-duru5 dInanna and in the ĝeškiri6 Lu2-dUtu the other, both under the supervision of santana who were not their relatives. MVN 17, 18 (-/-/-) o. 5–7: 7.0.2.0 ⟨zu2-lum⟩ gur/ Ur-dBa-U2 šeš Ga-mu santana/ ĝeškiri6 e2-duru5 d Inanna o. 15: ugula Gu2-u3-mu ⟨santana⟩ r. 1–4: 0.3.3.0 ⟨ zu2-lum⟩ ĝeškiri6 Lu2-dUtu/ E2-he2-ĝal2 dumu Gu2-u3-mu/ blank line/ ugula Ab-ba-ĝu10 ⟨santana⟩ o. 5–7: 2.120 litres of dates (the um-mi-a is) Ur-BaU, brother of Gamu the santana, in the ĝeškiri6 e2-duru5 dInanna o. 15: the supervisor (is) Gu’umu (santana) r. 1–4: 210 litres of dates in the ĝeškiri6 Lu2-dUtu (the um-mi-a is) E-heĝal, son of Gu’umu, the supervisor (is) Abbaĝu (santana)

In TUT 143 dated around the end of Amar-Suena’s reign, as said above, E-heĝal acted as supervisor of one gardener taken in charge by his father. TUT 143 [(-/-/-)] o. i, 12: 0.1.0.0 E2-lu2-ti/ E2-he2-ĝal2 ⟨um-mi-a⟩ ugula o. ii, 5: Gu2-u3-mu ⟨santana⟩ i3-dab5 o. i, 12: 60 litres (of barley for) Eluti, the supervisor (is) E-heĝal (um-mi-a) o. ii, 5: Gu’umu (santana) took in charge

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Two texts show E-heĝal in a preeminent administrative position: in HSS 4, 7 (Š 48/ii/-), he was responsible for part of the barley amount addressed to the payments of a-bala and du3-a-ku5 workers, together with Abbaĝu santana and the scribe Katar-BaU. HSS 4, 7 (Š 48/ii/-) o. i, 1–4: 7.3.4.0 še gur/ kišib Ab-ba-ĝu10 santana/ 4.1.0.0 gur E2-he2-gal2 dumu Gu2-u3-mu/ +3.0.3.0 gur Ka-tar-dBa-U2 r. ii, 331: še-ba a-bala du3-a-ku5-ne o. i, 1–4: (for) 2.320 litres of barley Abbaĝu santana sealed, (for) 1.320 litres of barley E-heĝal son of Gu’umu (sealed), (for ca.) 930 litres of barley Katar-BaU (sealed) r. ii, 331: barley payments (of) a-bala and du3-a-ku5

In MVN 17, 55 (AS 4/-/-), E-heĝal worked as general supervisor of the inspected gardeners together with Urdu2-ĝu10 the NU-banda3. MVN 17, 55 (AS 4/-/-) r. vi, 11–14: gurum2 aka/ nu-ĝeškiri6-ke4-ne/ ugula E2-he2-ĝal2 dumu Gu2-u3-mu/ NU-banda3 Urdu2-ĝu10 r. vi, 11–14: inspection of gardeners, the supervisors (are) E-heĝal son of Gu’umu and Urdu-ĝu the NU-banda3

E2-he2-ĝal2 text

date

typology

supervision

level

kišib: 780 litres of barley (first section)

/

MVN 17, 55 AS 4/-/- gurum2 aka nu- ĝeškiri6-ke4-ne

ugula

E.-Urdu2-ĝu10 santana NU-banda3

TUT 143

1 PN (E-luti) ugula

Gu2-u3-mu

um-mi-a

(guarantor of) 210 litres dates

Ab-ba-ĝu10

um-mi-a

HSS 4, 7

Š 48/ii/- še-ba a-bala du3-a-ku5 (ša3-bi-ta)

function of E.

AS 7 ca. Record of employment of gardeners and respective payments

MVN 17, 18 -/-/-

Record of date amounts per um-mi-a in gardens

santana

The case of E-heĝal does not seem to be connected to career promotions, but rather to sporadic episodes in which he had to fulfil administrative tasks instead of santana. Besides, the documentation shows few cases of um-mi-a/nu-ĝeškiri6 owning their own seals and performing administrative tasks connected with external institutions, but they seem to have been an exception. For example, in MVN 12, 417 (IS 3/-/-), we find a nu-ĝeškiri6, Hesa, as receiver and sealer of an amount of barley as loan to be repaid, duty usually performed by santana: MVN 12, 417 (IS 3/-/-) o. 1–3: 2.0.0.0 še gur/ ki Ur-bad3-KU-ra-ta/ He2-sa6 r. 1–2: šu ba-ti/ su-su-dam Seal: He2-sa6/ nu-ĝeškiri6/ dumu Lugal-[. . .] o. 1–3/ r. 1–2: 600 litres of barley provided by Ur-badKUra, Hesa took, (he) will repay

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§5.  Some Considerations A further consideration must be put forward. We can find two kinds of um-mi-a in the documentation: those belonging to the middle-upper class, related to officials, able to manage administrative duties and in few cases using their own seal, and those who were recruited, as rule, among the workers to be guarantor of them and of the plots, suggesting a skill made out of their own experience. In the ordinary administrative documentation, the um-mi-a is not considered a high-level office. As shown in Priests and Officials 101 App. 4a-b (-/-/-), there were many um-mi-a at the same time in a district, who earned 60 litres of wheat. On the contrary, in the same text it can be noted the fewer presence of santana, who earned the double amount, under their supervision itself. Priests and Officials 101 App. 4a-b (-/-/-) r. ii, 25–28: 21 um-mi-a ĝeškiri6 0.1.0.0-ta/ 2 santana 0.2.0.0-ta/ 5.0.0.0 gur/ ugula UN-il2 ⟨santana⟩ u3 U2-da-ni ⟨santana⟩ r. v, 11–31: zi3-KA iri-a ĝar-ra/ ša3 Gu2-ab-baki/ u3 e2 dInanna r. ii, 25–28: 21 um-mi-a of the gardens for 60 litres of wheat-KA, 2 santana for 120 litres of wheat-KA/ (the total is) 1.500 litres, the supervisors (are) Udani (the santana) and UNil (the santana) r. v, 11–31: wheat-KA supplied in the city at Gu’aba and at the e-Inanna

Consequentially, the term lu2 zu-a of the hymn of Šulgi should be interpreted as expression of high competence and skills. From the point of view of the royal propaganda, it could also intend order and high efficiency, whose echo can be found elsewhere in the same hymn in connection with the re-assessment of the roads of the land. Moreover, lu2 zu-a could be extended to the garden hierarchy as a whole, intending competent people settled in each level of the garden working structure. The words of the Hymn Šulgi A, therefore, could be expression of a sober promotion of the royal rationalization of the territory and its resources.

Tradition and Innovation in Šulgi’s Concept of Divine Kingship Luděk Vacín Berlin

Mesopotamian divine kingship is still a very elusive issue. Although scholars have paid considerable attention to this phenomenon over the past century, very little can be said about it with certainty. 1 Even the most basic questions, like the difference between sacred and divine kingship, remain without convincing answers. 2 In this paper I will try to contribute to the ongoing research into Mesopotamian divine kingship by attempting to reconstruct the paradigm of divine kingship of Šulgi, the second ruler of the Ur III dynasty and the first sovereign after the Sargonic period to proclaim himself god. Hopefully, this case study of a theological concept looming in the lines of poems in praise of Šulgi will help better understand the deification of early Mesopotamian kings.

1.  Sources for an Analysis of Šulgi’s Divine Kingship Available sources bearing on the topic of Šulgi’s divinity are almost invariably textual. 3 They can be divided into two major groups: a) historical and b) literary texts. Major historical sources are royal inscriptions; major literary sources are royal hymns. Strikingly, the bulk of Šulgi’s royal inscriptions are short texts, conveying only the most basic information on their subject matter and the king himself. Thus, they are very much in line with Early Dynastic inscriptions but in contrast to those they do not contain even the classical topos of early Mesopotamian kingship, i.e., the statements of divine parentage and nurture of the sovereign. In fact, all essential ideological information except the change in the king’s titulature from “the king of Sumer and Akkad” to “the king of the four quarters” was reserved for the Šulgi hymns (e.g., RIME 3/2 1.2.1, 1.2.27). 1.  This topic has been recently discussed by Cooper 2008. 2.  See the discussion by Sasson (2011) on the evidence of the Mari royal letters, showing how thin the dividing line between sacred and divine kingship seems to have been. 3.  Unfortunately, known visual evidence from Šulgi’s reign—three headless fragmentary statues and canephors modeled after those of Urnamma—does not yield relevant information. As far as I know there is only one significant exception: an inaba seal showing the king in a posture very much resembling that of Narāmsu’en on the latter’s Victory Stele, although Šulgi’s crown is not fitted with the horns. See Mayr and Owen 2004: 152–55 with drawings on p. 167 (Hermitage 3 143 [Erm 14933]). Digital images of the tablet are available at www.cdli.ucla.edu/P212206.

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Those texts, exquisite specimens of a genre introduced into Sumerian literature either by Urnamma or Šulgi himself, 4 are replete with ideological statements and it seems as if the transmission of ideological information were the primary reason for their composition. Even though the Šulgi hymnal corpus does contain compositions concerned with building (especially Šulgi R), etc., which is the typical topic of royal inscriptions, a number of his hymns deal almost exclusively with his supposedly superhuman intellectual and physical abilities, his royal functions and, most significantly, with his relationship to the (great) gods of Sumer (and Akkad). It therefore appears that Šulgi used a dual strategy for his self-representation: on the one hand, a highly traditional way of commemorating his deeds in brief royal inscriptions buried in temple foundations, and on the other hand the innovative way of communicating his royal ideology in hymns inscribed on clay tablets and meant for study in the academy as well as recitation in the temple and perhaps also in private residences of the state’s élite. 5 The use of royal hymn as a primary vehicle of the king’s ideological paradigm in tandem with the proclaimed establishment of state-sponsored scribal academies at Nippur and Ur (Šulgi B, ll. 308–315) seems to have been meant to ensure a cheap, fast and effective dissemination of Šulgi’s propaganda in major centres of the state and among its most influential inhabitants (scribes, priests, administrators, who all possessed the education necessary to understand the language and message of the hymns). By contrast, Sargonic kings and Šulgi’s second successor Šūsu’en preferred to have their ideology proclaimed in large texts carved into monuments displayed in prominent public spaces as testified by Old Babylonian copies of numerous royal inscriptions commissioned by those rulers. Šulgi, on the other hand, does not seem to have erected many (inscribed) public monuments, since only very few copies of his inscriptions, which may be called “monumental,” are preserved. 6 Nor does it seem likely that the Šulgi hymns were ever inscribed on monuments (Šulgi V is rather a copy of a royal inscription and while its topic is essentially the same as that of Šulgi A, the text is different). If they were, the Old Babylonian copies of his hymns would 4.  I find it not unlikely that Urnamma’s hymns might have been composed in the reign of Šulgi to repair his father’s reputation after Urnamma’s untimely, violent demise and thus perhaps to save the ruling king from the ideological blemish of being a son and successor of an Unheilsherrscher. See also Michalowski 2008: 35–36. In any case, hymn Urnamma A (“Death of Urnamma”) was certainly composed after this king’s death and its content, explaining Urnamma’s tragedy in theological terms, suggests that the text was commissioned by Šulgi in an attempt to save his dynasty’s reputation and legitimacy. The ideological damage caused by Urnamma’s death may also account for Šulgi’s hesitation to refer to his father by name. Šulgi never gives his filiation in his inscriptions. In ideological literature he calls Urnamma lú-zi, “the rightful one” (Šulgi G, l. 14), to show that his father was indeed a legitimate king, no details necessary. The pertinent passage in hymn Šulgi G also reveals that in order not to undermine his carefully built divine stature, Šulgi decided to refer to his human ancestors as rarely and cryptically as possible. 5.  Statues, and thereby some form of the cult, of the divine Ur III king are known to have been installed in private residences of notable officials (like the sukkal-maḫ). Yet currently available evidence stems only from the reign of Šūsu’en (MVN 5 123 [ŠS01–09–22], obv. l. 15–rev. l. 8; SACT 1 172 [ŠS01], obv. l. 12). As for Šulgi, there is to date only a single piece of evidence of his worship in private, an Old Babylonian copy of a statue inscription commissioned by his wife Eaniša (RIME 3/2 1.2.81). 6. Three Old Babylonian copies of Šulgi’s (?) inscriptions about military campaigns (RIME 3/2 1.2.35–37) which may or may not have been inscribed on monuments, a “copy” of a bogus Šulgi stele inscription in syllabic Sumerian and Akkadian (RIME 3/2 1.2.38), and a copy of a likely statue inscription, conventionally categorized as hymn Šulgi V (RIME 3/2 1.2.54; SRT 13), whose subject matter is basically the same as that of Šulgi A.

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contain colophons indicating the original source (e.g., statue, stele), as they nearly always do in case of Sargonic and Šūsuen’s monumental inscriptions. In conclusion of this overview of sources for Šulgi’s royal ideology, administrative texts must be mentioned. Dated with ideologically charged year names, which represent a sort of abbreviated royal inscriptions revealing the king’s version of history but at the same time recording the key political developments of his reign in a relative chronological order, Ur III administrative texts are otherwise free of ideological material, as they record various economic processes. Those records occasionally do contain information that can help trace and date some changes in Ur III royal self-representation and shed more light on hymnal statements. Thus, while products of economic administration, those texts are invaluable historical sources for any discussion of Ur III royal ideology simply because they mention people, offices and events connected with royal ceremonial and religious activities of—and for the benefit of—Ur III royalty.

2.  Šulgi’s Ideology of Divine Kingship as a System As already mentioned, the crucial sources for a study of Šulgi’s divine kingship are his hymns and the bulk of what follows will be based on them, complemented by evidence from royal inscriptions and selected relevant administrative texts. 7 As the number of available administrative sources from the first two dozen years of Šulgi’s reign proper–i.e. from the time when his royal ideology was being formulated–is very limited, the present study dwells mainly on statements of royal literature, for its purpose is to show and interpret the theological and religio-political aspects and considerations involved in the formulation of Šulgi’s divine kingship. 8 The hymns of Šulgi appear as theological treatises sui generis covering in considerable detail various aspects of his royal ideology. Their language is highly figurative and symbolical. While this is logical, since ideological poetry always speaks in semi-mythological terms, the modern reader has difficulties understanding their message. Even more so as the statements of different hymns offer a picture of a fragmented, mixed up ideology, and sometimes even seem to contradict each other. However, this situation is not an exception but rather a rule in ancient polytheistic religions where different traditions and concepts co-existed side by side, and yet a religion was still able to work as a self-contained system. Therefore, if the hymns were to effectively communicate Šulgi’s ideology of divine kingship, one can assume the existence of a unifying paradigm which may have allowed for a great variety of expression but at the same time would have remained recognizable to the audience. In the rest of this paper I will offer a reconstruction of that paradigm which–even 7.  The Šulgi hymns mentioned and/or quoted in this paper have been edited and studied by Klein 1976 (Šulgi O), 1981a (Šulgi P), 1981b (Šulgi A, D, X), 1985 (Šulgi V), 1990 (Šulgi R), 1991 (Šulgi G), Castellino 1972 (Šulgi B), and Lämmerhirt 2012 (Šulgi F). In the following, the hymns are referred to by their commonly accepted identification only. In case of Šulgi B references are made to the more up-todate rendering found in ETCSL, 2.4.2.02, A praise poem of Šulgi (Šulgi B). The same applies to the as yet unedited hymn Šulgi E; ETCSL, 2.4.2.05, A praise poem of Šulgi (Šulgi E). Line numbering of quotations from Šulgi A follows Delnero 2006: 1865–1909, from Šulgi F Lämmerhirt 2012: 37–54 8. For a recent overview of images of kingship in Sumerian literature, particularly the royal hymns, see Brisch 2011.

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though revealed in the Šulgi hymns without any explanation or comments—justified and supported the king’s divine status in the eyes of the ancients and can be at least partially grasped also by the modern readers of the Šulgi texts.

Traditional Elements of the System Šulgi’s system of royal ideology was based on the traditional concept of Mesopotamian kingship, and thus it comprised a range of topoi meant to underpin royal power right from the dawn of monarchy in Mesopotamia. Following the overview by Esther Flückiger-Hawker (1999: 42–58), the topoi of ideal kingship utilized by Šulgi’s poets are typologically distinguished into two major categories: a) legitimation topoi used to justify his claim to hegemony and thereby to provide him with legitimacy which would secure the allegiance of the population, and b) kingship topoi showing how diligently the king fulfilled his tasks and how beneficial his rule was to the land. 9 Topoi from the first category are particularly relevant to the discussion of Šulgi’s divine kingship and therefore I will deal only with those here. There are four subcategories of legitimation topoi and many examples from each group can be found in the Šulgi hymns. First, the king is described as a child of divine parents e.g., in ll. 4–5 of hymn F: ur-saĝ ama-né-e ur5-re ba-an-tu dnin-sún-na-ke4 /šul-gi ama-né-e ur5-re ba-an-tu d nin-sún-na-ke4: “To that end his mother Ninsun gave birth to the hero/to that end his mother Ninsun gave birth to Šulgi.” The king’s divine parents are Ninsun and Lugalbanda, an Urukean goddess and a legendary ruler of the same city. 10 Second, Šulgi was chosen by the gods e.g., in l. 8 of hymn A: šà-ge pà-da an kù-ga me-en: “I am the one chosen in the heart of holy An.” According to the hymns, the king was chosen by An, the Urukean supreme god, by Enlil, the actual head of the pantheon from Nippur, and by Nanna, the city god of Ur. 11 Third, according to hymn P a, ll. 12–14, Šulgi was selected from among the multitudes by his mother Ninsun: kalam níĝ-daĝal-ba igi mu-ni-íl/saĝ-ĝi6 u8-gin7 lua-ba/šul-gi gú saĝ(?)-ba ma-ni-in(?)-x sipa-zi-bi ḫé-àm: “I looked upon the numerous people/(and) among the ‘black-headed ones’, numerous like ewes/I [elevated] Šulgi to myself high above their heads; let him be their righteous shepherd.” In addition, the selection was also made by Enlil and Nanna. 12 Further, hymn P b, ll. 38–39, relates that the king was given a name by Lugalbanda: a-a-ugu4-zu kù-dlugal-banda3da-a/ šul an-né zu diĝir-re-ne mu-šè [m]u-rí-in-sa4: “Your father, who engendered you, holy Lugalbanda, called you by the name ‘Youth known to An among the gods’.” But not only by him. Other hymns say that Šulgi was named by Enlil, his spouse Ninlil, 9.  The group of legitimation topoi comprises 1) the topos of a deity as a parent and provider, 2) of the divine selection of a ruler, 3) of picking a ruler out of the multitudes, naming him and providing him with divine favour, 4) of royal investiture. The group of kingship topoi comprises 1) the topos of abundance and prosperity, 2) of tireless provision for the gods, 3) of diligence while fulfilling a divine order, 4) of justice and righteousness, 5) of care for the land’s infrastructure. 10.  For other examples see Šulgi A, l. 7; Šulgi D, ll. 41–42; Šulgi F, l. c.31; Šulgi P b, ll. 22–23 and passim in various Šulgi hymns. For the image of the king’s upbringing by the gods see e.g., Šulgi F, l. 65: amarkù ábzi-dè á è-a: “Pure calf, reared by the right cow” (i.e. Ninsun). See also Šulgi D, l. 43; Šulgi X, l. 69; Šulgi P b, ll. 24, 32. 11.  See Šulgi G, ll. 24, 67–68 (selection by Enlil); Šulgi F, l. 81 (selection by Nanna). 12.  Šulgi E, ll. 5–7 (Enlil); Šulgi F, ll. 80–83 (Nanna). See also Šulgi V, l. 16.

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An and Nanna too. 13 Next, there are many statements of the bestowal of divine blessings upon the king by various deities according to their spheres of activity. Thus, Enki provides Šulgi with wisdom, Nanna gives him heroism, Utu endows him with justice, etc. Fourth, Šulgi was provided with insignia, and thereby formally installed as king, most prominently by the god An as hymn A, ll. 84–86, tells us: an-né aga kù-ge saĝ-ĝá ḫé-em-mi-in-gi-en/é-kur za-gìn-na ĝišĝidri ḫa-ba-díb-àm/bara2-babbar ĝišgu-za suḫuš gi-na saĝ an-šè ḫa-ba-íl: “An placed the holy crown on my head/I took the staff in lapis-lazuli Ekur/I lifted (my) head toward heaven on a shining dais, on a throne of firm foundations.” 14 However, he received the regalia from the hand of Enlil and Lugalbanda too. 15 Finally, it should be noted that Nanna acts as an intermediary in the investiture passage of hymn F and the birth episode from which the investiture passage ensues in hymn G. As may be gleaned already from this very brief overview of the legitimation topoi, statements belonging to this group mention almost invariably and exclusively the deities of Nippur, Uruk and Ur, the three cities which represented the backbone of Šulgi’s realm. 16 The king’s poets simply filled the traditional framework of royal self-representation with a focus on these cities and their pantheons. This brings us to the innovative elements of Šulgi’s divine kingship.

Innovative Elements of the System There are four essential innovative components of Šulgi’s royal ideology which were in my view the constituents of his self-representation, allowing for his deification and holding his ideological system together. Some of those are more innovative than the others but this is hardly surprising, since Šulgi’s ideology was clearly formulated with his and his kingdom’s “Sumerian identity” in mind. In other words, in accordance with the heritage of Urnamma, Šulgi drew upon older Sumerian notions of royal ideology, and never openly acknowledged that it was the legacy of Narāmsu’en which prompted him to claim divine status in order to overcome the crisis following Urnamma’s untimely death, and build a territorial state. 17 As we will see, the unification of Babylonia and the imposition of imperial administration on the land under Šulgi entailed a unification of its religion resting on the figure of the divine king, yet was carried out in such a way that this change did not break with earlier Sumerian traditions. The first of the innovative elements is the focus on Nippur, Uruk and Ur as the religious, dynastic and political centres of the Ur III state. As we have seen above, Šulgi’s scholars were careful to point out this focus throughout his hymnal corpus by highlighting the deities of the three cities in the traditional topoi of 13.  Šulgi G, ll. 21–23 (Enlil); Šulgi G, l. 41 (Ninlil); Šulgi D, l. 44 (An); Šulgi B, l. 375 (Nanna). 14.  Other passages crediting An with Šulgi’s investiture are Šulgi B, ll. 23–25 (together with Enlil); Šulgi P b, l. 37; Šulgi R, ll. 85–87 (An’s name restored; other deities mentioned are Enlil and Enki). 15.  Šulgi E, ll. 8–12; Šulgi F, l. 94; Šulgi G, ll. 25–27 and see the previous footnote. Šulgi P b, l. 41 (Lugalbanda). 16.  According to ll. c.32–c.33 of Šulgi F, the king was given a name parallel to that given to him by Lugalbanda in Šulgi P b, l. 39—but without the diĝir-re-ne addition—by the mother-goddess Ninḫursaĝ, not intimately linked with any of the three cities. This may be understood as an exception to the rule. 17.  For a discussion of the relationship of the traditional and the innovative in Old Akkadian iconography and epigraphy with respect to the changes in royal ideology see Nadali and Verderame 2008: 318–20.

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kingship. Moreover, the king’s relationship to the gods of all three cities is minutely described in three separate hymns (G: Nippur, P: Uruk, F: Ur). 18 The importance of those cities for Ur III royal ideology is likewise confirmed by administrative texts testifying to king Ibbīsu’en’s consecutive coronation in all of them (JCS 7 p. 48 MAH 19352 [ŠS09–10–01], rev. ll. 6–8; UDT 100 [ŠS09–10–03], rev. ll. 6–8). 19 The second element, closely related to the previous one, is the adoption of both Urnamma and Šulgi into the Urukean divine family as sons of Ninsun and Lugalbanda, brothers of Gilgameš (hymn Šulgi O is devoted solely to the king’s relationship to Gilgameš). This seems to have been prompted by the dynasty’s actual origin at Uruk. Apart from the fragmentary inscription of Urnamma, which likely testifies to his kinship with Utuḫeĝal (RIME 2 13.6.2001), note that Uruk was called the “place of the queen” and Ur III queens had their palace at Uruk (UET 3 906, rev. l. 6; UET 3 901; UET 3 929, obv. l. 3; UET 3 96 [IS04–07–30], rev. l. 2; UET 3 99 [IS04–08–07], rev. l. 2; UET 3 100 [IS04–08–12], rev. l. 2), while Nippur was called the “place of the king” in administrative sources (UET 3 864, obv. l. 5; UET 3 96 [IS04–07–30], obv. l. 5; UET 3 99 [IS04–08–07], obv. l. 4; UET 3 100 [IS04–08– 12], obv. l. 4). In addition, it is well known that several Ur III princes held the post of šagina, or “military governor,” of Uruk; e.g., Šulgi’s sons Urniginĝar (BIN 5 11 [Š32], obv. l. 5), Šūenlil (Hirose 24 [Š44–02–15], obv. l. 3) and Ursu’ena (e.g., MVN 10 149 [Š35–02], rev. i l. 13; RIME 3/2 1.2.95). 20 It is worth noting here that Urnamma and Šulgi were not the only rulers to claim intimate relationship to Ninsun and Gilgameš. Gudea of Lagaš, most likely a contemporary of Urnamma, 21 says in Cyl. B (xxiii 19) that he was a son of Ninsun too, 22 grown as tall as Gilgameš (xxiii 16). 23 Obviously, to ideologically prove descent from Uruk and the favor of its gods was quite important for any ruler with aspirations to broader hegemony at the time, for the ancient cultural and religious centre was recently the seat of Utuḫeĝal, a king who struck the decisive blow to the Gutians in Babylonia and wanted to become a Sumerian “king of the four quarters” (e.g., RIME 2 13.6.1, ll. 4–5). Yet the House of Urnamma had a distinct advantage in this respect because of the apparently real kinship between Utuḫeĝal and Urnamma. Interestingly, Gudea also calls himself a “Man known to An” (Cyl. B xxiv 5), 24 an epithet very similar to the already mentioned name given to Šulgi by Lugalbanda in hymn P b, l. 39. By comparing the parallel epithets as used by Gudea and Šulgi we may be able to glimpse the formal distinction between sacred and divine kingship in third millennium Mesopotamia. Gudea’s “Man known to An” means that the ruler is a special human, known to the supreme god, and thus able to mediate between the human and divine spheres. However, Šulgi’s “Youth known to An among the gods” seems to indicate that the king is no longer a mere human but that he belongs among the (minor) gods and An knows him as one of them. 25 18.  For a discussion of the meaning and function of these so-called “Coronation Hymns” see Vacín 2010. 19.  See Sollberger 1953, Jacobsen 1953. 20.  See Michalowski 1991: 48; Michalowski 1977: 90–91. 21.  Steinkeller 1988: especially 48–50. 22. diĝir-ama-zu dnin-sún-na. 23. [d.ĝi]šbíl-ga-[m]èš(!?)-da mú-a. 24.  [(x)] ⌈x⌉ KA ĝuruš [(x)] an-né zu-me. 25. Note that the ETCSL (2.4.2.16, A praise poem of Šulgi [Šulgi P]) translates the name “Valiant one whom An made known among the gods.” In this translation the epithet does not express the

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The other instance of calling Šulgi “Youth known to An” by the goddess Ninḫursaĝ in hymn F, l. c.33 without the addition “among the gods” seems to show that Šulgi’s scribes were careful in promoting his ideology of divine kingship. Indeed, apart from the determinative before his name, the king is explicitly identified as god only twice in his entire hymnal corpus and twice more in his inscriptions. 26 Back to the innovative elements of Šulgi’s ideological system. The third component is the use of “sacred marriage” imagery and references to Inana as the king’s spouse in his hymns as a way of identifying him with Dumuzi. It is not my concern here whether the “sacred marriage” was an actual ritual or a literary construct, and it is not even important for a reconstruction of Šulgi’s ideological system. What should be noted is the fact that Šulgi was the first ruler to have his purported intimate relationship with Inana described in plain terms. All details are found in a long passage of hymn Šulgi X, ll. 1–38. Also important is that his Ur III and early Old Babylonian deified successors presented themselves as husbands of Inana too. The “sacred marriage” rhetoric therefore looks like a significant clue to the understanding of Mesopotamian divine kingship, as noted already by Henri Frankfort (1978: 297): Perhaps we hold here the clue to the problem of the deification of kings in Mesopotamia. It may well be that only those kings were deified who had been commanded by a goddess to share her couch. In a general way the kings who use the divine determinative before their names belong to the same period as the texts mentioning the marriage of kings and goddesses. . . 27

The fourth and last innovative component of Šulgi’s royal ideology is the emphasis on the genealogy of Nanna as a son of Enlil and its development into a notion of the former as the first-born of the latter. Nanna was the son of Enlil and Ninlil already in a text from Abū Ṣalābīḫ (IAS 114 i, ll. 14–16) but later on he was sometimes regarded as a son of the sky-god An. 28 Nanna’s old genealogy was introduced into Ur III royal ideology by Urnamma (e.g., RIME 3/2 1.1.11, ll. 3–4), clearly to support the king’s aspirations to rule the whole of Sumer and Akkad. Šulgi used the notion that Nanna was the first-born son of Enlil particularly in hymn F relating how Nanna difference between sacred and divine kingship if compared to the epithet of Gudea. Yet precisely the parallel from Gudea’s Cylinder B disproves the ETCSL translation. It employs the same grammatical construction as the Šulgi P line with the addition of the enclitic—me(-en), “you are.” In accordance with the ETCSL translation of the Šulgi P line the Gudea line would then read: “You are . . . a man whom An made known.” I find it unlikely that the supreme god of the “national” pantheon would be mentioned in late third millennium Mesopotamia as a sort of herald making a ruler known, either among the gods, or otherwise. ETCSL, 2.1.7, The building of Ninĝirsu’s temple (Gudea, cylinders A and B), translates Cyl. B xxiv 5: “You are . . . a man known to An.” So does Edzard 1997: 100. 26.  Šulgi A, l. 6: nir-ĝál diĝir kur-kur-ra me-en, “I am majestic, the god of all the lands”; Šulgi B, l. 81: dšul-gi diĝir nam-ĝuruš-a saĝ-kal erin2-na me-en, “I am Šulgi, god of manliness, the foremost of the troops”; RIME 3/2 1.2.2038 and RIME 3/2 1.2.2046, where Šulgi is called the “god of his Land.” By contrast, Šūsu’en was very open about his divinity, e.g., ETCSL 2.4.4.a, A hymn for Šu-Suen, l. 1: diĝir nam-ḫe ù-tu-da an-na igi bar-⸢ra⸣ [duraš-a]: “God of prosperity born to An and gazed upon by Uraš.” 27.  Although I would say that only those kings who were deified saw fit to present themselves as Inana’s lovers, I generally agree with Frankfort’s opinion. A similar view has more recently been voiced by Frymer-Kensky 1992: 61: “The very human god-kings had to find a way to associate the king closely with the gods, ideologically and psychologically, in their own and the public’s eyes. To do this, yet another paradigm of divine human relationships was developed, the metaphor of spouse.” 28.  See Krebernik 1993–1997: 364.

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travelled to Nippur to make a plea before Enlil on behalf of Šulgi. Enlil as a loving father complied with the request of his first-born and duly confirmed Šulgi’s legitimate claim to kingship. At this point I should address the question if there is an underlying idea which would connect all the elements, traditional and innovative, in a self-contained, coherent, and functioning system in whose centre Šulgi would stand as divine king. The answer is rather simple. The basic idea is that of a family. If information bearing on Šulgi’s ideology, dispersed in the hymns, royal inscriptions as well as administrative texts, is put together with the family concept in mind, the whole system may be summarized in the diagram on the next page. The bidirectionality of arrows indicates the mutuality of relationships between the entities involved. Some members of Šulgi’s human family who played important roles in the cultic and political life of his kingdom are included to show that the system worked not only in theological speculations of the king’s scholars, who created the mythical dimension of this system, but also in the real world of the state’s cult and politics, and that the cultic and political dimensions of the system can likewise be seen. 29 If we focus on the mythical dimension of the paradigm, Šulgi was adopted into the family of Urukean gods as a son of Ninsun and Lugalbanda, brother of Gilgameš. This is a very traditional part of the system because rulers were regularly presented as children of local deities. That part alone does not make Šulgi divine, of course. It helps legitimize him as a ruler with a family link to the city of Uruk and makes him an heir of that city’s heroic past. 30 But as a member of the Urukean divine family, Šulgi is easily identified with Dumuzi, husband of the goddess Inana of Uruk. Thereby, he becomes a brother of Dumuzi’s sister Ĝeštinana, as hymn Šulgi P b, ll. 43–44, tells us, 31 and a lover of Inana, celebrating the “sacred marriage” with her (Šulgi X, ll. 1–38). Owing to this capacity of his, the king is the brother-in-law of the sun-god Utu, Inana’s brother, called the king’s “brother and friend” in hymns Šulgi A, l. 76, and Šulgi B, ll. 40, 123. Even more importantly, the “marriage” to Inana makes Šulgi a relative of her father Nanna, the moon-god and patron deity of the king’s residential city. 32 And because Nanna was the first-born son of Enlil, Šulgi became by virtue of his “marriage” to Inana also a distant relative of the allpowerful deity from Nippur. Thus, the king is effectively a unifying element. The 29.  The above division of Šulgi’s concept of divine kingship is inspired by Jan Assmann’s model of three “modes of existence” of Egyptian gods (cosmic dimension, cultic dimension, mythical dimension), Assmann 1984. Further, it follows from the fact that religion was an all-pervasive basis of Mesopotamian society. 30.  See also Michalowski 1988. 31.  dĝeštin-an-na nin9 lugal-la-ke4/ka-làl diĝir-re-ne-ke4: “Ĝeštinana, the king’s sister, mellifluous mouth of the gods.” 32.  As noted already by Cooper 1993: 91, who as far as I know was the first to recognize the importance of family symbolism in the “sacred marriage” for the study of royal ideology. Wilcke 1985 offers a thorough discussion of Mesopotamian kinship terminology both in Sumerian and Akkadian sources of various kinds. It should be pointed out here that the Šulgi hymns employ only the basic terms like “mother,” “father,” “sister,” “brother” and “spouse,” for only the king’s relationship to Ninsun, Lugalbanda, Ĝeštinana, Gilgameš, Utu and Inana is made explicit in these texts. His relationship to other gods, e.g., Nanna and Enlil, is implicit and follows from the known genealogies of the deities involved. The fact that Utu is called Šulgi’s “brother” (šeš), not “brother-in-law” (muru5, see Wilcke 1985: 238), shows in my opinion that it was not the concern of the hymns to meticulously specify the kinship of the sun-god and the king but simply to highlight that a close family relationship existed between the two.

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innovative use of several traditional ways of royal self-representation makes him a mainstay of a system uniting local pantheons of the three crucial cities into one extended family of gods. 33 This mythical dimension of Šulgi’s ideological paradigm turns him into a pillar of divine order and thereby also into a conditio sine qua non of the transfer of blessings from the divine realm to the earthly sphere. This concept, revealed in relevant statements of the hymns, shows Šulgi’s deification as not only legitimate, but also beneficial and ultimately necessary. A figure bringing local pantheons of Nippur, Uruk and Ur together into a big divine family of Sumer (and Akkad) clearly could not be a mere human. It is important to note that only all the elements combined provided Šulgi’s claim to divinity with a secure basis. The Early Dynastic tradition of the ruler’s divine filiation bound to a certain city (Uruk in Šulgi’s case) was not enough. Nor did the concept of “sacred marriage” surpass local limitations, and could not ensure his deification. Even the merging of those two elements could not justify a claim to divinity because without the link to Nippur, his ideology would have been seen by, for instance, the priesthood of Enlil, as unjustified and locally based. On the other hand, the revival of the ancient notion of Nanna’s descent from Enlil was likewise useless if the previous two preconditions were absent. Only all three components combined enabled the ruler to establish firm hierarchical relationships to his divine parents, wife, father-in-law, the latter’s father and other gods. Thus, he became the god-king who united the branched divine family. Therefore, it is not surprising that he occasionally enjoyed drinks at banquets with his divine relatives, as ll. 76–80 of hymn Šulgi A tell us: šeš ku-li-ĝu10 šul dutu-àm/é-gal an-né ki-ĝar-ra-ĝu10 kaš ḫu-muun-di-ni-naĝ/nar-ĝu10 tigi imin-e šìr-ra ḫa-ma-an-ne-eš/nitadam-ĝu10 ki-sikil dinana nin ḫi-li an-ki-a/kú naĝ-bi-a ḫu-mu-da-an-tuš-àm: “In my palace founded by An I drank beer with my brother and friend, the youth Utu. My singers performed songs for me to the accompaniment of seven tigi lyres. My spouse, the maiden Inana, the lady, charm of heaven and earth, sat with me at the banquet.” The cultic dimension of the paradigm encloses the circle of family relationships in an interesting way. Inana, daughter of Nanna of Ur and the patron goddess of Uruk, was betrothed to Dumuzi. The personification of this deity in the “sacred marriage” was the king of Ur whose own daughters were in return betrothed to Inana’s father as his en-priestesses, or symbolically his “consorts.” Of course, the practice of installing princesses as high priestesses of Nanna at Ur was a well established tradition by the time of Šulgi’s reign. His sister Ennirĝalana was the incumbent of that office before his daughters Ennirziana (Š15, Š17) and Enuburziana (Š43) took it over (RIME 3/2 1.1.54; BE 1/2 125, obv. ll. 11’, 13’; RA 75 p. 86 5 [Š43–08], rev. l. 9; JCS 31 p. 174 F [Š43–06], l. 12). Also the idea that Nanna’s en-priestesses were his “spouses” predates Šulgi. It is attested already for Sargon’s daughter Enḫeduana. 34 Thus, this is another piece of tradition which fits nicely in Šulgi’s innovative paradigm of divine kingship. 33.  Cf. Michalowski 1991: 56: “The new concept of divine kingship, which began with Naram-Sin but which acquired new ideological features under Šulgi and his successors, was created to provide a broader vision of societal center, one which overcame localized forms which had been anchored in the city, the temple, and the city ruler. By displacing the ideational core through a variety of symbols centered around the figure of the divine king, the larger states gained access to allegiance and domination which could not have been theirs through force and economic power alone.” 34.  See Westenholz 1989: 556.

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The political dimension of this ideological concept represents a mundane variation on the same theme. The diagram shows the two known dynastic marriages of the king’s daughters: Liwwirmiṭṭašu to the ruler of Marḫaši in Š18 and a princess of unknown name to the ruler of Anšan in Š30 (BE 1/2 125, obv. l. 14’; BE 1/2 125, rev. l. 9). By virtue of those marriages Šulgi tied the two foreign rulers to himself with family bonds corresponding to his own relationships to the gods in the mythical dimension of his ideology. He became the son-in-law of Nanna following his “sacred marriage” to Inana. Similarly, the foreign rulers who married his daughters became his sons-in-law, thereby having been charged with the same responsibilities toward their overlord—and through him toward the major gods of Sumer (and Akkad)—as he himself was charged with toward the senior members of his divine family.

3. Conclusion It follows from the above discussion that the scattered and seemingly contradictory hymnal statements about Šulgi, the descendant of Urukean deities Ninsun and Lugalbanda, brother of Gilgameš and Ĝeštinana, lover of Inana, brother of Utu, etc., actually seem to have been points of a coherent theology of Šulgi, the god-king, not contradicting but supporting each other in a complex paradigm formulated by royal scholars in the hymnal corpus to justify and promote the ideological agenda of their master. This paradigm, a blend of traditional and innovative elements of royal self-representation, shows the way in which Šulgi was deified: he was inserted in the divine sphere as a deity uniting gods of different character and from different cities by means of kinship, thereby becoming a key member of an extended divine family which no longer knew local limitations but became the “national” pantheon of a united Sumer and Akkad ruled by the god-king of Ur. Considering the importance of the family, the clan, and their hierarchic structure in Mesopotamian society, politics and religion, an ideology of divine kingship based on the concept of a family looks like an elegant solution to the problems inherent in the idea of a divine human. More so if the king wants to be divine and at the same time maintain that he belongs to and further develops a cultural milieu in which the deification of a living monarch is by no means a norm. Yet, once the deification of an Ur III king in his lifetime was justified by Šulgi’s elaborate ideological system, whose functionality is proven by the unquestioned deification of his successors immediately after their accession, modifications of the paradigm were possible. This applies particularly to the shift of ideology detectable in the praise poems of Šūsu’en and in historical as well as archaeological evidence from his reign. Šūsu’en’s short hymns and extensive royal inscriptions preserved in Old Babylonian copies (RIME 3/2 1.4.1, 1.4.3, 1.4.4, 1.4.5, 1.4.7, 1.4.9) differ markedly from those of Šulgi. They no longer highlight the importance of Nippur, Uruk and Ur for the dynasty, nor the ruler’s relationship to Ninsun, Lugalbanda and Gilgameš. The role of the moon-god is not prominent in Šūsu’en’s hymns and inscriptions either, and Nanna’s status of the first-born son of Enlil is never mentioned. 35 Instead, Šūsu’en’s hymns and inscriptions focus on his supreme power 35.  Šūsu’en’s royal inscriptions generally highlight Enlil’s and Ninlil’s favour for the king. In a fragmentary hymn to Nanna-Su’en mentioning the king (Šūsu’en F), the moon-god is apparently called a son of An in l. 41: en dumu an-na [. . .]-a (ETCSL 2.4.4.6). Note that the god Ninurta is called the “first-born son of Enlil” in Šūsu’en D, l. 18 (ETCSL 2.4.4.4).

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and military prowess, promoting his image as god. This shows that Šūsu’en’s concept of divine kingship was closer to that of Narāmsu’en than to that of Šulgi. The differences are also apparent in administrative sources testifying, for instance, that Šūsu’en built a number of temples for himself and installed his statues at various places throughout the kingdom while construction work on temples of other deities was not that extensive (e.g., ITT 2 795 [AS09]; ITT 2 3256 [ŠS05–05]; SACT 1 172 [ŠS01]; TCTI 2 3765; RTC 395; DAS 183; DAS 397 [ŠS08]). 36 It is even possible that Šūsu’en’s modifications of ideology may have contributed to the fast decline of royal authority in the last decades of the Ur III era, for once the balance of the respective components within the ideological system was impaired, the system became prone to collapse. However, that is a topic for a different study. 36.  See also Brisch 2006.

References Assmann, J. 1984 Ägypten: Theologie und Frömmigkeit einer frühen Hochkultur. Stuttgart / Berlin / Cologne / Mainz: Kohlhammer. Brisch, N. M. 2006 The Priestess and the King: The Divine Kingship of Šū-Sîn of Ur. JAOS 126: 161–76. 2011 Changing Images of Kingship in Sumerian Literature. Pp. 706–724 in The Oxford Handbook of Cuneiform Culture. Edited by K. Radner and E. Robson. Oxford / New York: Oxford University Press. Castellino, G. 1972 Two Šulgi Hymns (BC). Studi Semitici 42. Rome: Istituto di studi del Vicino Oriente–Università di Roma. Cooper, J. S. 1993 Sacred Marriage and Popular Cult in Early Mesopotamia. Pp. 81–96 in Official Cult and Popular Religion in the Ancient Near East. Edited by E. Matsushima. Heidelberg: Universitätsverlag C. Winter. 2008 Divine Kingship in Mesopotamia: A Fleeting Phenomenon. Pp. 261–265 in Religion and Power: Divine Kingship in the Ancient World and Beyond. Oriental Institute Seminars 4. Edited by N. M. Brisch. Chicago: The Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago. Delnero, P. A. 2006 Variation in Sumerian Literary Compositions: A Case Study Based on the Decad. PhD dissertation, University of Pennsylvania. Edzard, D. O. 1997 Gudea and His Dynasty. The Royal Inscriptions of Mesopotamia Early Periods 3/1. Toronto / Buffalo / London: University of Toronto Press. ETCSL: Black, J. A. (†), et al. 1998- The Electronic Text Corpus of Sumerian Literature. http://www-etcsl.orient.ox.ac.uk (accessed August 18, 2014). Flückiger-Hawker, E. 1999 Urnamma of Ur in Sumerian Literary Tradition. Orbis Biblicus et Orientalis 166. Fribourg: Academic Press / Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Frankfort, H. 1978 Kingship and the Gods: A Study of Ancient Near Eastern Religion as the Integration of Society and Nature. 2nd ed. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press. Frymer-Kensky, T. S. 1992 In the Wake of the Goddesses: Women, Culture and the Biblical Transformation of Pagan Myth. New York: The Free Press.

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Jacobsen, T. 1953 The Reign of Ibbī-Suen. JCS 7: 36–47. Klein, J. 1976 Šulgi and Gilgameš: Two Brother-Peers (Šulgi O). Pp.  271–92 in Kramer Anniversary Volume: Cuneiform Studies in Honor of Samuel Noah Kramer. Alter Orient und Altes Testament 25. Edited by B. L. Eichler, J. W. Heimerdinger and Å. W. Sjöberg. NeukirchenVluyn / Kevelaer: Neukirchener Verlag / Butzon & Bercker. 1981a The Royal Hymns of Šulgi King of Ur: Man’s Quest for Immortal Fame. Transactions of the American Philosophical Society 71/7. Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society. 1981b Three Šulgi Hymns: Sumerian Royal Hymns Glorifying King Šulgi of Ur. Ramat Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press. 1985 Šulgi and Išmedagan: Runners in the Service of the Gods. SRT 13. Beer Sheva 2: 7*–38*. 1990 Šulgi and Išmedagan: Originality and Dependence in Sumerian Royal Hymnology. Pp. 65– 136 in Bar-Ilan Studies in Assyriology Dedicated to Pinḥas Artzi. Edited by J. Klein and A. Skaist. Ramat Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press. 1991 The Coronation and Consecration of Šulgi in the Ekur (Šulgi G). Pp. 292–313 in Ah, Assyria. . . : Studies in Assyrian History and Ancient Near Eastern Historiography Presented to Hayim Tadmor. Scripta Hierosolymitana 33. Edited by M. Cogan and I. Ephʿal. Jerusalem: Magnes Press. Krebernik, M. 1993–1997  Mondgott: A. I. In Mesopotamien. Pp. 360–69 in RlA vol. 8. Edited by D. O. Edzard. Berlin / New York: Walter de Gruyter. Lämmerhirt, K. 2012 Die sumerische Königshymne Šulgi F. Texte u. Materialien d. Frau Prof. HilprechtCollection of Babylonian Antiquities 9. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Mayr, R. H., and Owen, D. I. 2004 The Royal Gift Seal in the Ur III Period. Pp. 145–74 in Von Sumer nach Ebla und zurück: Festschrift Giovanni Pettinato zum 27. September 1999 gewidmet von Freunden, Kollegen und Schülern. Heidelberger Studien zum Alten Orient 9. Edited by H. Waetzoldt. Heidelberg: Heidelberger Orient-Verlag. Michalowski, P. 1977 Dūrum and Uruk During the Ur III Period. Mesopotamia: rivista di archeologia, epigrafia e storia orientale antica 12: 83–96. 1988 Divine Heroes and Historical Self-Representation: From Gilgamesh to Shulgi. BCSMS 16: 19–23. 1991 Charisma and Control: On Continuity and Change in Early Mesopotamian Bureaucratic Systems. Pp. 45–57 in The Organization of Power: Aspects of Bureaucracy in the Ancient Near East. 2nd ed. Studies in Ancient Oriental Civilization 46. Edited by McG. Gibson, and R. D. Biggs. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press. 2008 The Mortal Kings of Ur: A Short Century of Divine Rule in Ancient Mesopotamia. Pp. 33– 45 in Religion and Power: Divine Kingship in the Ancient World and Beyond. Oriental Institute Seminars 4. Edited by N. M. Brisch. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press. Nadali, D., and Verderame, L. 2008 The Akkadian “Bello Stile.” Pp.  309–320 in Proceedings of the 51st Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale Held at the Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago, July 18–22, 2005. Edited by R. D. Biggs, J. Myers, and M. T. Roth. Chicago: The Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago. Sasson, J. M. 2011 Mari Theomorphism: Intimation of Sacrality in the Royal Correspondence. Pp. 195–212 in U4 du11-ga-ni sá mu-ni-ib-du11: Ancient Near Eastern Studies in Memory of Blahoslav Hruška. Edited by L. Vacín. Dresden: ISLET-Verlag. Sollberger, E. 1953 Remarks on Ibbīsĩn’s Reign. JCS 7: 48–50. Steinkeller, P. 1988 The Date of Gudea and His Dynasty. JCS 40: 47–53.

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Vacín, L. 2010 ‘Youth Known to An Among the Gods’: A New Look at the ‘Coronation Hymns’ of King Šulgi. Pp.  89–109 in Shepherds of the Black-Headed People: The Royal Office vis-à-vis Godhead in Ancient Mesopotamia. Edited by K. Šašková, L. Pecha and P. Charvát. Pilsen: University of West Bohemia Press. Westenholz, J. G. 1989 Enḫeduana, En-Priestess, Hen of Nanna, Spouse of Nanna. Pp.  539–56 in DUMU-E2DUB-BA-A: Studies in Honor of Åke W. Sjöberg. Occasional Publications of the Samuel Noah Kramer Fund 11. Edited by H. Behrens, D. M. Loding and M. T. Roth. Philadelphia: The University Museum. Wilcke, C. 1985 Familiengründung im Alten Babylonien. Pp. 213–317 in Geschlechtsreife und Legitimation zur Zeugung. Veröffentlichungen des “Instituts für historische Anthropologie e. V.” 3. Edited by E. W. Müller. Freiburg / Munich: Karl Alber.

Bemerkungen zur Entwicklung der Beschwörungen des Marduk-Ea-Typs: Die Rolle Enlils Manuel Ceccarelli Mainz-Tübingen

Dieser Beitrag stellt einen Versuch dar, eine Erklärung für Enlils Rolle in den ältesten Beschwörungen des sogenannten Marduk-Ea-Typs zu bieten. 1 Ausgangspunkt für diese Erklärung wird ein Vergleich mit der Funktion des Gottes Enki / Ea in den späteren Beschwörungen sein.

Einführung Adam Falkenstein hatte die sumerischen Beschwörungen in vier Haupttypen eingeteilt: Er unterschied den Legitimationstyp, den prophylaktischen Typ, den Marduk-Ea-Typ und den Weihungstyp. 2 Das wesentliche Merkmal des Marduk-EaTyps ist der Dialog zwischen dem Gott Ea, dem Gott der Beschwörungskunst, und seinem Sohn Marduk. 3 In Ur III-zeitlichen und altbabylonischen Beschwörungen finden wir Enki und Asalluḫi anstelle von Ea und Marduk. Diese Beschwörungen beginnen mit der Schilderung des Treibens des Krankheitsdämons und seiner Wirkung auf den Menschen. Daraufhin tritt Marduk vor seinen Vater und berichtet ihm von dem Eingriff des Dämons. Marduk weiß nicht, was er nun zu tun hätte: “Mein Vater, was ich tun soll, weiß ich nicht”. So lautet Marduks Bitte an Ea. Eas Antwort ist immer die gleiche: “Mein Sohn, was weißt du nicht? Was könnte ich dir hinzufügen?”. Schließlich gibt Ea seinem Sohn die notwendigen Anweisungen zur Heilung des Patienten. In einer Variante des Marduk-Ea-Typs erscheint Marduk / Asalluḫi nicht persönlich vor Enki / Ea. Stattdessen schickt er seinem Vater jemanden als Boten (lu2), 4 der die Ritualanweisungen einholen soll. Diese Variante Author’s Note: Die Abkürzungen richten sich nach CDLI http://cdli.ucla.edu/wiki/doku.php/abbreviations_for_assyriology. Darüber hinaus wird folgende Abkürzung verwendet: MRAH = Musées Royaux d’Art et d’Histoire in Brüssel, Belgien. Ich danke Dr. K.  Zand für die Erlaubnis, seine Umschrift und Rekonstruktion der UD.GAL.NUN-Texte zitieren zu dürfen. Außerdem möchte ich mich bei Dr. M. Herles, Dr. A. Schmitt und Frau F. Grops, die das Manuskript gelesen und korrigiert haben, herzlich bedanken. 1. Wang 2011 verzichtet auf eine Erörterung der Rolle Enlils in den frühdynastischen Beschwörungen. 2.  Falkenstein 1931. Vgl. auch Cunningham 1997: 1–4. 3.  Falkenstein 1931: 53–58; Cunningham 1997: 120–122. 4. Falkenstein 1931: 57 übersetzt lu2 mit “Mensch”. Krebernik 1984: 211 “ein Bote (?)”. Geller 1987: 125 nimmt an, dass es sich bei diesem Menschen um den Patienten handelt, der vor Enki bzw. Enlil geführt wird. Vgl. auch van Dijk und Geller 2003: 43: 8 “messenger” und 45 zu 8 “emissary”; Veldhuis 1993: 162–163 lu2 ge4 “to send a messenger”.

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des Dialogs ist mehrmals in Ur III-zeitlichen Beschwörungen belegt. 5 Manfred Krebernik konnte nachweisen, dass genau diese Form des Marduk-EaTyps bereits in drei Beschwörungen aus Fāra 6 und in mindestens einer Beschwörung aus Ebla 7 vorkommt. Krebernik nannte diese Variante lu2-ge4-Formular. Anstelle von Enki finden wir aber Enlil, und die Gottheit, welche den Boten zu ihrem Vater schickt, ist nicht Asalluḫi sondern möglicherweise Ningirima. Ein weiterer Unterschied ist die Bezeichnung für den Boten. Dafür hat man Kombinationen der Elemente pa und lu2, lu2 und KAŠ4 und in Ebla bar und lu1. 8 Die Funktion entspricht wohl jener des lu2 des späteren Formulars. Enlil kommt außerdem auch in weiteren Beschwörungen aus Fāra und Ebla vor, die nicht dem Marduk-Ea-Typ zuzuordnen sind. 9 Nach Krebernik scheint allerdings Enki in einigen Beschwörungen der Verursacher des Übels zu sein. Dies erinnert an die spätere akkadische Formel īpuš Ea ipšur Ea “Ea hat es gemacht, Ea hat es gelöst”. 10 Andererseits lässt sich auch eine “positive” Funktion Enkis in einigen Beschwörungen aus Ebla erkennen. Ein Beispiel dafür ist die Beschwörung Nr. 34 in sumerischer Sprache, 11 in der sich der Gott auf einem Schiff einem liegenden Menschen mit einem kranken Arm nähert. 12

Die Texte Im Folgenden werden einige Beschwörungen, in denen Enlil vorkommt, in knapper Weise nach Kreberniks Nummerierung, Umschrift und Übersetzung vorgestellt. In der Beschwörung Nr. 8/2 13 aus Fāra geht es um eine Augenkrankheit. In der Einleitung wird Enki erwähnt, der nach Krebernik als Verursacher der Krankheit gelten kann. Danach wird ein Bote zu Enlil geschickt: 5.  Vgl. Cunningham 1997: 79:80. Texte: De Genouillac 1911 Nr. 1 (Jestin 1947: 64–66; Kramer und Maier 1989: 101); AO 11276 (Finkel 1998: 72 f.); VS 10 Nr. 189 (Nougayrol 1949: 220–221; Finkel 1980: 45 f.); VS 10 Nr. 193 (Veldhuis 1993; nach Steinkeller 1992: 324 könnte diese Tafel altbabylonisch sein und aus Sippar stammen); Texte aus Nippur: TMH 6 Nr. 1; Nr. 11; NATN Nr. 8. Für eine altbabylonische Beschwörung dieses Typs s. Cavigneaux und Al-Rawi 1993: 176–195 (Meturan). 6.  Krebernik 1984 Nr. 8/2 und Nr. 11. Nr 7 enthält zwar das lu2-ge4-Formular, aber Enlil wird nicht explizit erwähnt. Vgl. auch Cunningham 1997: 24–25. 7.  Krebernik 1984 Nr. 9. 8.  Krebernik 1984: 217–222 hält die Lesungen lu2-pa, lu-bar und lu2-KAŠ4 für plausibel. 9.  Fāra: Krebernik 1984 Nr. 6. Ebla: Krebernik 1984 Nr. 19; Nr. 20; Nr. 23; Nr. 31 mit Duplikat Krebernik 1996: 14–16 Text Nr. 2.1. 10.  Galter 1983: 72; Reiner 1995: 88–89; Bottéro 1987–90: 216 § 29. Bekanntlich erschafft Enki aus dem Lehm des Abzu den Menschen, jedoch kann er den Lehm auch verfluchen und somit das Leben zerstören. In Fluch über Agade impliziert die Verfluchung des Lehms die völlige Auslöschung der Existenzmöglichkeit, s. Fluch über Agade, 231–232 im-zu abzu-ba ḫe2-eb-ge4 / im den-ki-ke4 nam ku5ra2 ḫe2-a “dein Lehm (d.h. von Agade) soll in sein Abzu zurückkehren. / Möge es Lehm sein, den Enki verflucht hat”, s. Cooper 1983: 254 zu 231–236. Zum “unheilbringenden” Aspekt Eas vgl. noch die Hand des Ea in TDP XXXIII:81 und 109, die die ummedu-Krankheit verursacht, s. dazu Scurlock, J. und Anderson, B. R. 2005: 488. 11.  In den Beschwörungen aus Ebla in semitischer Sprache ist allerdings zu erwarten, dass der lokale Gott Ḥay(y)a hinter dem Sumerogramm EN.KI steht und somit seine Eigenschaften zum Ausdruck kommen, vgl. Archi 2010. 12.  Krebernik 1984: 172–175. Ein weiteres Beispiel ist die Beschwörung MRAH O.1920 (Veldhuis 2006), in der Enki zu einem Menschen geht (Vs. ii 7–iii 2). In diesem Text kommen auch Enlil (Rs. i 2), Inana (Rs. i 1) und mehrmals dMA und Ningirima vor. 13.  Krebernik 1984: 55, 59–63.

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xi 4) a den-lil2 pa lu2 mu-da-ge4 4) Zum Vater Enlil sandte (Ningirima?) den pa lu2.

Dann spricht Enlil: xi 5) a-ne a-na nun-zu 6) ĝa2 a-na pa3 xi 5) “Was weiß sie(?) nicht? 6) Was (soll) ich (ihr?) kundtun?” 14

Daraufhin erfolgt Enlils Anweisung, die den Zweck der Beschwörung darstellt: xi 7) ĝa2 igi bur-bur mu-AK 8) igi kuĝ2 šu nam-tab 9) igi bar!(AŠ) ḫa-mu-ta-TAG xi 7) “Ich werde Sicht machen, 8) er (der betreffende Mensch?) möge die Hand nicht auf . . . (Teil des Auges) legen, 9) der böse Blick(?) möge daraus weichen.” 15

Die Beschwörung Nr. 9 16 aus Ebla ist anscheinend für einen Menschen bestimmt, dessen Galle krank ist (lu2 ze2). Laut Krebernik könnten das kranke Innere (ša ge) und das kranke Herz (li-bi2-iš11 ge) die Folge eines Beschwörungsspruchs Enkis oder eines Feindes sein. Ein Bote wird zu Enlil geschickt: iv 2) ’a5-a-ne 3) den-lil2 4) bar lu mu-da-ra 5) ge še3 iv 2–5) Zu ihrem(?) Vater Enlil sandte (Ninigirima?) den bar lu.

Enlil antwortet: v 1) ze an-na nu-zu 1) “Was weißt du nicht?” 17

Die Rede Enlils endet mit der Ritualanweisung: v v

2) a-gab2 gu2-la-ge 3) gul-gul 4) ḫe-za 5) du gu2-ba-ge 6) dur ḫa-NE-i 7) GA2 gu2-da-gi-in 8) na-NE ḫe-du-ḫe 2) “Wie ein an einen Strick gebundener (?) Affe 3–4) möge er brüllen, 5) wie eine ‘aufgestellte Beschwörung (?)’ 6) möge die Krankheit herausgehen, 7) wie ein Rindergehege (oder: einen zerbrochenen Behälter) 8) möge sie (Ningirima?) den Bann lösen.” 18

14.  Krebernik 1984: 62. 15.  Krebernik 1984: 63. 16.  Krebernik 1984: 64–72. 17.  Krebernik 1984: 70. 18.  Krebernik 1984: 72.

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Auch in der Beschwörung Nr. 11 19 aus Fāra geht es um das kranke Herz und das kranke Innere. Das lu2-ge4-Formular lautet: ii′ 5) a-ni den-lil2-še3 6) lu2 mu-da-ra-ge4 KAŠ4 . . . iv′ 1) a-ne niĝ2 lu2-bi nu-zu 2) dnin-ḪA.MUŠ.A.DU(=Ningirima) 3) UMBIN.ŠE na 4) ḫa-mu-ta-ni-DU.DU ii′ 5) Zu ihrem(?) Vater 6) sandte (Ningirima?). . . . . . iv′ 1) “Weiß sie die betreffende Sache des Menschen nicht? 2) Ningirima möge aus der ‘Umzäunung(?)’ den Bann weggehen lassen.” 20

In der eblaitischen Beschwörung ARET 5 1 mit Duplikaten ARET 5 2 und 3 finden wir erneut Enlil. Der Name des Gottes wird hier syllabisch di1-li-lu geschrieben und Enlil wird als “Vater der Götter” bezeichnet. 21 Die Texte haben D. O. Edzard, P. Fronzaroli und C. Gordon bearbeitet. 22 Nach M. Bonechi und A. Catagnotti gehört der Text zur eblaitischen Tradition. 23 Laut Fronzaroli weisen die Abschnitte um Enlil eine mesopotamische Herkunft auf. 24 Die Beschwörung beginnt mit der Bezwingung eines Dämons. Nach Fronzaroli handelt es sich um ein schlangenartiges Monster. Enlil kommt in Zusammenhang mit dem Bau eines Hauses vor. ARET 5 1 iv   7) a-bi2-nu-um  8) i-a-ba-nu   9) SIG4.GAR 10) al6 v   1) 2 KA2  2) i-li-lu   3) A.MU   4) DINGIR.DINGIR.DINGIR

ARET 5 3 ARET 5 2+a i   1) UTU Rs i   1) i-li-lu  2) ti-a-ba-an   2) ⸢i⸣-la-ba-nu   3) SIG4.GAR   3) [SIG4.GAR]   4) I3.DIM2   5) E2  6) di-li-lu ii   1) A.MU   2) DINGIR.DINGIR.DINGIR d

a.  Zur Rekonstruktion vgl. Catagnoti 1988: 243 und Fronzaroli 1988: 18.

ARET 5 1 Edzard 1984: 20. “Ein Ziegelstreicher streicht den Ziegel ‘auf ’ den beiden Toren des Göttervaters Enlil.” ARET 5 3 Edzard 1984: 23. “Sonne, du streichst den Ziegel, du baust das Haus des Göttervaters Enlil.” 19.  Krebernik 1984: 76–80. 20.  Krebernik 1984: 79–80. 21.  Vgl. Pomponio und Xella, 1997: 170–171 zu B.I 1)-4). Ihre Lesung (d)i3-li-lu ist jedoch ein Fehler, denn die Texte haben eindeutig (d)i1-li-lu. Wang 2011: 102 übernimmt die fehlerhafte Lesung von Pomponio und Xella; vgl. auch Bonechi und Catagnoti 1998: 24–25. 22.  Edzard 1984: 17–23; Fronzaroli 1988; Gordon 1992: 127–135. 23.  Bonechi und Catagnoti 1998: 30. 24.  Fronzaroli 1988: 22.

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ARET 5 2 Fronzaroli 1988: 18. “Enlil modellava [mattoni].”

In dem nächsten Abschnitt scheint es, dass der Gott Kabkab 25 als Bote zu Enlil geschickt wird. Dies erinnert wiederum an das lu2-ge4-Formular. ARET 5 1 v  5) wa  6) iš11-da-ga-SU3   7) 1 SUD   8) MAKIM.E.GI4-ma  9) si-in vi  1) i-li-lu   2) A.MU   3) DINGIR.DINGIR.DINGIR

ARET 5 3 ii  3) wa  4) iš11-da-ga-SU3  5) ga:ga:ba:bu3  6) dag-da-su  7) si-in  8) di-li-lu iii   1) A.MU   2) DINGIR.DINGIR.DINGIR

ARET 5 1 Edzard 1984: 20. “Da. . .te ihn Kabkab(u) als Boten zum Göttervater Enlil.” Krebenik 1984: 324. “Und es brachte(?) ihn der Stern(?) als Bote(?) zu Enlil, dem Vater der Götter.” ARET 5 3 Edzard 1984: 23. “Da . . .te ihn Kabkab(u) als Boten zum Göttervater Enlil.”

Am Schluss von ARET 5 1 erscheint Enlil nochmals: vi  8) i-na-’a3-aš2  9) na-’a3-su 10) i-li-lu 11) A.MU 12) DINGIR.DINGIR.DINGIR

Edzard 1984: 20. “Er wird/soll leben gemäss dem Leben des Göttervaters Enlil.” 26 Gordon 1992: 129. “Elil, the father of the gods performs the magic.” 27

Auch in den mythologischen Texten in UD.GAL.NUN-Orthographie aus Tell AbuṢālabīkh finden wir Enlil als Beschwörungsgott. Im Text IAS 142 rezitiert er nämlich mehrmals eine Beschwörung (IAS 142 vii 3′–4′ (CUT 15B)): 28 vii 3′) d(UD)en(GAL)-E2(NUN) 4′) UD.KA nam2-šid vii 3′) Enlil 4′) rezitiert die Beschwörung. 29 25.  Nach Michalowski 2003 könnte dieser Name eine Bezeichnung des Vulkans Kawkab sein. 26.  Nach Edzard und Fronzaroli 1988: 20 mit Anm. 10 N Ḥ Š = “leben”, vgl. Conti 1990: 80 zu 120 und Krebernik 1983: 5 zu 120. 27.  Nach Gordon 1992: 132 zu vi: 8–12 N Ḥ Š = “beschwören” wie biblisches Hebräisch. 28. Auch viii 2′–3′; viii 13′–[14′]; ix 1′–2′. Umschrift und Rekonstruktion der Texte in UD.GAL. NUN-Orthographie nach Zand 2009. In Klammern sind Zands Textkürzel. 29.  So auch Zand 2009: 37. UD.KA kann eine Kurzform für UD.KA du11-ga sein. Ein frühdynastischer Beleg für UD.KA du11-ga ist MRAH O.1920 Vs. iv 2 // Rs. ii 6, s. Veldhuis 2006. Vgl. auch Krebernik 1984: 208–209 für KA+UD als Kurzform für KA+UD du11-ga.

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Beschwörungen und Schöpfung Im folgenden Abschnitt sollen einige allgemeine Überlegungen zur Rolle der Götter in den Beschwörungen angestellt werden, um danach auf die zu Beginn formulierte Fragestellung zurückzukommen. Im Reallexikon der Assyriologie unterscheidet J. Bottéro in seinem Artikel “Magie” zwischen Magie und Theurgie. Da die gewünschten Effekte der Beschwörungen nicht ex opere operato sondern durch das Eingreifen der Götter erfolgen, ordnet Bottéro die mesopotamischen Beschwörungen der Theurgie zu. 30 Mit den Worten J.  Assmans und R.  Schmitts kann man sagen, dass die Beschwörungen an das kosmotheistische Weltbild rückgebunden sind. 31 Das Vorkommen einer bestimmten Gottheit oder eines bestimmten Bildes verweist auf religiöse Vorstellungen, die wir zum Teil aus den Mythen kennen. Diese Aspekte der magischen Texte hat R. Schmitt in seiner Untersuchung zur Magie im Alten Testament auch im Blick auf die Magie im Alten Orient besprochen. Er diskutiert die kosmologischen Grundlagen der Magie in Mesopotamien, Syrien, Ägypten sowie Anatolien und kommt zu dem Schluss, dass die Wirksamkeit der magischen Praktiken auf der mythologischen Präfiguration des Rituals beruht. 32 Als Beispiel für solche Rückbindungen werde ich die Rolle der Götter Enki / Ea und Šamaš betrachten. Die Rolle des Sonnengottes in den Beschwörungen gegen Schadenzauber bzw. in den Namburbi-Ritualen wird durch seine Funktion als oberster Richtergott bestimmt. Er wird als Richter angerufen, damit er das Urteil, das die zornigen Götter gegen jemanden zu Unrecht ausgesprochen haben, in einer Art Revisionsprozess zu einem günstigen Spruch umwandelt. Die Erklärung für Enkis Funktion als Beschwörungsgott wurde oft in seiner Verbindung zum Wasser gesehen, da dieses eine Rolle bei Reinigungsritualen spielt. Für diesen Zusammenhang sprechen sich H. Galter, Th. Jacobsen und M. Krebernik aus. 33 S. N. Kramer sieht in Enkis Weisheit den Ursprung seiner Funktion als Gott der Magie. Bottéro hingegen äußert sich in seinem Artikel “Magie” explizit dagegen, dass Enki / Ea aufgrund seines Verhältnis zum Wasser der Gott der Beschwörungskunst sei. Bottéro begründet diesen Zusammenhang mit der Funktion Enkis als Schöpfergott und Gott der Erfindungen. 34 Die Rolle Marduks und Enkis / Eas als Schöpfer der Menschen ist ja bekannt. Beide kommen auch als Gestalter der Welt vor. Im Mythos Enki und die Weltordnung regelt Enki die verschiedenen Naturbereiche der Welt und teilt sie den zuständigen Gottheiten zu. In Enūma eliš gestaltet Marduk die Welt aus Tiamats Leib. M. Dietrich hat neulich die Funktionen Enkis / Eas und des ugaritischen Els als Götter der Magie und der Kunst der Erhaltung am Leben besprochen. 35 Als Schöpfer sind diese Götter gleichzeitig Schutzgötter der Magie und der magischen Heilkunst. Das Eingreifen Enkis / Eas, welcher das Übel beseitigt, stellt den ursprünglichen und geordneten Zustand wieder her. Dieser ordnungsgemäße Urzustand kann in den Texten durch kosmogonische Einleitungen, sogenannte Historio30.  Bottéro 1987–90: 201–202 § 2. 31.  Assmann 1991: 241–242; Schmitt: 2004: 67. 32.  Schmitt 2004: 69–77. 33.  Galter 1983: 57; Jacobsen 1976: 112. Vgl. auch Krebernik 1984: 257. 34.  Bottéro 1987–90: 230 § 53. 35.  Dietrich 2007: 93–94 und 103–107.

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lae, präfiguriert werden. So erklärt Dietrich in der Gedenkschrift für Luigi Cagni das Eingreifen Eas gegen den Zahnwurm einerseits als Schutz der Menschen und deren Erhaltung am Leben. Andererseits handelt Ea als Schöpfer, der den Zahnwurm an seinen schöpfungsgemäßen Platz zurückführt. 36 In einigen Beschwörungen finden wir explizite Rückbindungen auf die Schöpfung des Menschen durch Enki / Ea bzw. auf den Lehm als Materia der Schöpfung. Die sogenannten Fire Incantations geben einen direkten Verweis auf die Menschenschöpfung. Bēlet-ilī erbarmt sich der leidenden Menschen und begibt sich zu Ea. In ihrem Aufruf erwähnt sie die Menschenschöpfung durch Ea selbst (Lambert 1970: 43: 25–27): 25) de2-a ina te-e-ka ib-ba-ni a-me-lu-tu2 26) tuš-taš-ni-ma i-na aš2-rat ap-si-i IM-ši-na tak-ri-iṣ 27) i-na qi2-bi-ti-ka GAL-ti mi-lik-ši-na tap-ru-us 25) Ea, durch deine Beschwörung wurde die Menschheit erschaffen. 26) Du hast wiederum Lehm aus dem heiligen Ort des Apsû abgekniffen. 27) Durch deinen großen Ausspruch hast du die Entscheidungen, die sie betreffen, getroffen.

In einigen Beschwörungen des Marduk-Ea-Typs weist Enki seinen Sohn an, Lehm des Abzu für die Erschaffung eines Ersatzbildes des Patienten abzukneifen (Schramm 2008 Nr 6: 28–33): 37 28) ⸢im abzu-ta⸣ u-me-ni-kid2 29) ṭi-di ap-si-i gi-ri-iṣ-ma 30) alan ki-bi-in-ĝar-ra-ni im u-me-ni-[d]im2 31) ṣa-lam pu-ḫi-šu2 ša2 ṭi-di bi-ni-ma 32) alan niĝ2-saĝ-il2-la-a-ni im u-me-ni-[d]im2 33) ṣa-lam di-na-ni-šu ša2 ṭi-di bi-ni-ma 28–29) Kneife den Lehm des Apsû ab, 30–31) schaffe aus dem Lehm sein Ersatzbildnis, 32–33) schaffe aus dem Lehm sein stellvertretendes Bildnis.

Der Lehm des Abzu besitzt reinigende Eigenschaften. Hier wird der Körper des Patienten damit eingerieben, um dadurch das Übel auszutreiben. Anschließend wird der Lehm auf einen öffentlichen Platz hinausgebracht (Schramm 2008 Nr. 12: 12–15): 12) im abzu-ta aĝarin4 nam-lu2-lu7lu-ke4 piš10(-te) šu u-me-ti 13) lu2-lu7lu dumu diĝir-ra-na u-me-te-gur(4)-gur(4) 14) bar-ra-na u-me-ni-su-ub-su-ub 15) tilla4-še3 u-me-ni-ib2-ta-e3 12) Nachdem du Lehm aus dem Abzu, den Urstoff der Menscheit, am Ufer genommen hast, 13) nachdem du den Menschen, den Sohn seines Gottes, damit gereinigt hast, 14) nachdem du ihn auf seiner Seite gerieben hast, 15) nachdem du ihn auf den freien Platz hinausgebracht hast, (dann . . .). 36.  Dietrich 2000: 217–218. 37.  Vgl. auch CT 17 29 f.: 30–32: 30) im abzu-ta u-me-ni-kid2 / ki-ri-iṣ-ma 31) alan niĝ2-saĝ-il2-la-a-ni u-me-ni-dim2 32) ṣa-lam an-du-na-ni-šu2 bi-ni-ma

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Verweise auf die Schöpfung befinden sich in einigen Gebetsbeschwörungen auch in den Epitheta Eas: z.B. bāni kalâma “Schöpfer von allem”, 38 bāni nišī “Schöpfer der Menschen”, 39 bāni awīlūtim “Schöpfer der Menschheit”. 40 Ein Zusammenhang zwischen den Beschwörungen, dem Erschaffen und der Schöpfung lässt sich auch in ganz anderen Kontexten nachweisen, die hier nur als rein religionsgeschichtliche Vergleiche zitiert werden. B.  Levine hat die Verwendung von mythologischen Motiven und die Anspielungen auf den biblischen Schöpfungsbericht in den aramäischen Beschwörungen folgendermaßen beschrieben: “the binding power of the spell may be epitomized by identifying it with the creation of the world, the bringing of order out of chaos, and the continuing maintenance of an orderly universe. [. . .] As for Jewish magic, the biblical account of creation [. . .] suggested magical interpretations, stressing as they do the power of god’s spoken word in the creational sequence.” 41 D. Salzer kommt in ihrer Untersuchung zu den magischen Texten der Kairoer Geniza zur folgenden Auswertung der Anspielungen auf die biblische Schöpfung: “Dadurch wird einerseits die Beschwörung mit der Schöpfung als magischer Akt Gottes interpretiert und andererseits die Beschwörung mit der Schöpfung in eine wesentliche Beziehung gesetzt und von der Schöpfung her legitimiert und autorisiert. So wie der Schöpfer die Welt nach seiner Vorstellung ordnete, soll dies nun auch der Beschwörer tun können.” 42 Zur Verbindung zwischen Heilen und Erschaffen in den indo-europäischen Traditionen sagt B. Lincoln: “Healing is a form of anthropogony, whereby the body is rebuilt out of matter appropriated from the cosmos.” 43

Schluss Das Vorkommen Enlils in den frühdynastischen Beschwörungen ist besonders bemerkenswert, zumal in den Beschwörungen der Ur III-Zeit dem Gott Enlil eine so wichtige Bedeutung nicht mehr zugeschrieben wurde. Außerdem richten sich die frühdynastischen Beschwörungen gegen “allgemeineˮ Erkrankungen wie das kranke Herz, das kranke Innere, das kranke Auge, die kranke Galle, gegen die in späteren Zeiten Enki und Asalluḫi angerufen werden. 44 Es ist daher denkbar, dass Enlil unabhängig von der Art der Erkrankung anstelle von Enki angerufen wird. Dies würde allerdings bedeuten, dass Enlil nicht für die punktuelle Heilung bestimmter Erkrankungen durch seine spezifische zerstörerische Kraft anstelle des scharfsinnigen Enki zuständig gewesen ist. 45 Enlil dient hier vielmehr anstelle von Enki als Gott der Beschwörungskunst. Die Verbindung zwischen erschaffen, beschwören und heilen könnte den Grund für Enlils Dasein in diesen Texten 38.  Meyer 1976: 381 (Ea 2). 39.  Meyer 1976: 381 (Ea 5). 40.  Meyer 1976: 381 (Ea 3) und 383 (Ea, Šamaš, Marduk / Asalluḫi 9). 41.  Levine 1970: 371. 42.  Salzer 2010: 309. 43.  Lincoln 1986: 138. 44. Vgl. z.B.  Cunningham 1997: Nr. 103a und Nr. 246 (Galle (ze2)); Nr. 163 (krankes Herz (ša3 ge17)); Nr. 198 (kranke Augen (igi ge17)). 45.  S. Maul hatte mich während der Rencontre in Rom auf die Möglichkeit hingewiesen, dass Enlil wegen seiner spezifischen zerstörerischen Kraft anstelle von Enki angerufen worden sei. Unsere Interpretationen schließen sich nicht gegenseitig aus.

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darstellen. Enlil ist nämlich in den mythologischen Texten aus Tell Abu-Ṣālabīkh und Fāra ein Schöpfergott. Er trennt den Himmel von der Erde und bildet somit die Jetzt-Welt: IAS 203 (CUT 62A) ii′ 3′) [d(UD)en(GAL)]-E2(NUN) 4′) ⸢an(UD) ki⸣-ta [LAGAB?] 5′) ⸢ki⸣ an(UD)-⸢ta?? ⸣ bad(LAGAB) 3′) Enlil, 4′) der den Himmel von der Erde trennt, 5′) der die Erde vom Himmel trennt. IAS 168 (CUT 38A) ii′ 1′) ⸢d(UD) ⸣ [en(GAL)]-⸢E2(NUN)⸣ 2′) ki an(UD)-ta nam2-⸢bad(LAGAB)⸣ SF 60 (CUT 6A) ii 27) d(UD)⸢en(GAL)⸣-E2(NUN) an ki(SIG4) ⸣-[ta? bad] 28) [. . .] x an(UD)-ša3(SUG) bad ⸣

IAS 136 (CUT 6B) iii′   1′) ⸢d(UD) en(GAL)-E2(NUN)⸣   2′) an ki(UNU)-ta bad   3′) ki an-ta bad

IAS 113 (CUT 11A) ii  5) d(UD)en(KIŠ)-⸢E2(NUN)⸣   6) en(GAL) nu-nam2-nir(NAGAR)   7) en(GAL) du11-ga(TUKU) nu(DU6)-ge4(DU3)-ge4(DU3)   8) an(UD) ki(UNU)-ta bad(LAGAB)   9) ki an(UD)-ta bad(LAGAB) 10) an(UD) ki(UNU)-ta bad(LAGAB)

IAS 197 (CUT 11B) ii′   3′) [d(UD)]⸢en(KIŠ)-E2(NUN) ⸣   4′) ⸢x⸣ [. . .]

Zwar enthalten die Beschwörungen keinen Hinweis auf die Trennung von Himmel und Erde durch Enlil, es muss aber betont werden, dass der Corpus sehr eingeschränkt ist. Eine Menschenschöpfung durch Enlil lässt sich in den frühdynastischen Mythen bis jetzt nicht nachweisen. Der Corpus der UD.GAL.NUN-Texte ist aber nicht gänzlich erschlossen. Die Erschaffung der Menschen durch Enlil ist jedoch in dem altbabylonischen Lied von der Hacke bekannt, indem er die Menschen aus der Erde herauskommen lässt, nachdem er den Himmel von der Erde getrennt hatte. Wenngleich die folgende These als etwas spekulativ bezeichnet werden könnte, möchte ich doch vorschlagen, dass Enlils Rolle in den Beschwörungen wie bei Enki mit seinem Schöpferaspekt zusammenhängt. Der Marduk-Ea-Typ und das lu2-ge4-Formular hätten also nicht nur einen ähnlichen literarischen Aufbau, beide Typen würden auch einen gemeinsamen Hintergrund aufweisen, nämlich die Vorstellung eines Zusammenhangs zwischen Erschaffen und Heilen und die Grundidee, dass das Heilen das Aufrechterhalten der Schöpfung darstellt. In Fāra hätten wir nun eine lokale Tradition, in der Enlil die Anweisungen zur Heilung gibt. Diese Tradition war auch in Ebla bekannt. Sie scheint aber dann zu verschwinden, während sich die Eridu-Tradition mit Enki als Gott der Beschwörungen in der Ur IIIZeit endgültig etablierte.

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References Archi, A. 2010 The God Ḥay(y)a (Ea / Enki) at Ebla. Pp. 15–36 in Opening the Tablet Box. Near Eastern Studies in Honor of Benjamin R. Foster. Culture & history of the ancient Near East 42. Edited by S. C. Melville and A. L. Slotsky. Leiden: Brill. Assmann, J. 1991 Magische Weisheit, Wissensformen im ägyptischen Kosmotheismus. Pp.  241–257 in Weisheit. Edited by A.  Assmann. Archäologie der literarischen Kommunikation III. München: Wilhelm Fink Verlag. Bonechi, M. und Catagnoti, M. 1998 Magic and Divination at IIIrd Millennium Ebla, 1. Textual Typologies and Preliminary Lexical Approach. SEL 15: 17–39. Bottéro, J. 1987–90  Magie A.  Philologisch. Pp.  200–234 in RlA, 7. Edited by D.  O. Edzard. Berlin–New York: de Gruyter. Catagnoti, A. 1988 Integrazioni allo scongiuro ARET 5.2. VO 7: 243–244. Cavigneaux, A. und Al-Rawi, F. N. H. 1993 Textes magiques de Tell Haddad. Textes de Tell Haddad II. ZA 83: 170–205. Conti, G. 1990 Il sillabario della quarta fonte della lista lessicale bilingue eblaita. QuadSem 17. Firenze: Dipartimento di Linguistica, Università di Firenze. Cooper, J. S. 1984 The Curse of Agade. Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press. Cunningham, G. 1997 “Deliver Me From Evil”. Mesopotamian Incantations 2500–1500 B.  Studia Pohl Series Maior 17. Roma: Editrice Pontificio Istituo Biblico. Dietrich, M. 2000 Der unheilbringende Wurm. Beschwörung gegen den ‘Zahnwurm’ (CT 17, 50). Pp. 209– 220 in Studi sul vicino oriente antico dedicati alla memoria di Luigi Cagni . Series Minor LXI. Edited by S. Graziani. Dipartimento di Studi Asiatici. Napoli: Istituto Universitario Orientale. 2007 Ea und El–Die Götter der Künste und Magie. Pp. 93–125 in Studien zu Ritual und Sozialgeschichte im Alten Orient: Tartuer Symposien 1998–2004. Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft / Beihefte 374. Edited by T. R. Kämmerer. Berlin–New York: de Gruyter. van Dijk, J. J. A., and Geller, M. J. 2003 Ur III incantations from the Frau Professor Hilprecht-Collection, Jena. TMH 6. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Falkenstein, A. 1931 Die Haupttypen der sumerischen Beschwörung. LSS NF 1. Leipzig: J.  C. Hinrichs‘sche Buchhandlung. Finkel, I. L. 1980 The Crescent Fertile. AfO 27: 37–52. 1998 A Study in Scarlet: Incantations against Samana. Pp.  71–106 in Festschrift für Rykle Borger zu seinem 65 Geburtstag am 24 Mai 1994. CM 10. Edited by Stefan M.  Maul. Groningen: Styx. Fronzaroli, P. 1988 Tre scongiuri eblaiti. ARET 5, 1–3. VO 7: 11–23. Galter, H. 1983 Der Gott Ea/Enki in der akkadischen Überlieferung. Eine Bestandsaufnahme des vorhandenen Materials. Dissertationen der Karl-Franzens-Universität Graz 58. Graz: Verlag für die Technische Universität Graz.

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Geller, M. J. 1987 Review of M. Krebernik, Die Beschwörungen aus Fara und Ebla. BSOAS 50: 125. de Genouillac, H. 1911 La trouvaille de Drehem: étude avec un choix de textes de Constantinople et Bruxelles. Paris: Geuthner. Gordon, C. 1992 The Ebla Exorcism. Eblatica 3: 127–137. Jacobsen, Th. 1976 The Treasures of Darkness: A History of Mesopotamian Religion. Yale: Yale University Press. Jestin, R. 1947 Textes religieux sumériens. RA 41: 55–66. Kramer, S. N. und Maier, J. 1989 Myths of Enki, the Crafty God. Oxford: University Press. Krebernik, M. 1983 Zu Syllabar und Orthographie der lexikalischen Texte aus Ebla. Vol. 2 (Glossar). ZA 73: 1–47. 1984 Die Beschwörungen aus Fara und Ebla. Texten und Studien zur Orientalisik 2. Hildesheim: Georg Olms Verlag. 1996 Neue Beschwörungen aus Ebla. VO 10: 7–28. Lambert, W. G. 1970 Fire Incantations. AfO 23: 39–45. Levine, B. 1970 The Language of the Magical Bowls. Pp.  343–375 in A History of Jews in Babylonia. Vol. 5: Later Sasanian Times. Edited by J. Neusner. Leiden: Brill. Lincoln, B. 1986 Myth, cosmos, and society: Indo-European themes of creation and destruction. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Meyer, W. 1976 Untersuchungen zur Formensprache der babylonischen „Gebetsbeschwörungen“. Studia Pohl Series Maior 5. Roma: Editrice Pontificio Istituo Biblico. Michalowski, P. 2003 The Mountains and the Stars. Pp.  403–411 in Semitic and Assyriological Studies Presented to Pelio Fronzaroli by Pupils and Colleagues. Edited by P. Marassini. Wiesbaden: Harrasowitz. Nougayrol, J. 1949 Conjuration ancienne contre samana. ArOr 17: 213–226. Pomponio, F. und Xella, P. 1997 Les dieux d’Ebla. Étude analytique des divinités éblaïtes à l’époque des archives royales du IIIe millénaire. AOAT 245. Münster: Ugarit-Verlag. Reiner, E. 1995 Astral Science in Babylonia. TAPS 85/4. Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society. Salzer, D. M. 2010 Die Magie der Anspielung. Texts and Studies in ancient Judaism 134. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. Schmitt, R. 2004 Magie im Alten Testament. AOAT 313. Münster: Ugarit-Verlag. Schramm, W. 2008 Ein Compendium sumerisch-akkadischer Beschwörungen. Göttingen: Universität-Verlag. Scurlock, J., and Anderson, B. R. 2005 Diagnoses in Assyrian and Babylonian medicine: ancient sources, translations, and modern medical analyses. Urbana, IL: University of Illinois Press Steinkeller, P. 1992 Early Semitic Literature and Third Millennium Seals with Mythological Motifs. Quad Sem 18: 243–275.

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Veldhuis, N. 1993 An Ur III Incantation against the Bite of a Snake, a Scorpion, or a Dog. ZA 83: 160–69. 2006 Another Early Dynastic Incantation, CDLB 2006:2. Wang, X. 2011 The Metamorphosis of Enlil in Early Mesopotamia. AOAT 385. Münster: Ugarit-Verlag. Zand, V. K. 2009 Die UD.GAL.NUN-Texte Ein allographisches Corpus sumerischer Mythen aus dem Frühdynastikum. Unpublished Dissertation. Friedrich-Schiller-Universität Jena.

Prophecy in the Mari Texts as an Innovative Development Herbert B. Huffmon Madison, NJ

From the time that the Mari prophetic texts began to appear more than seventy years ago, and especially as the corpus expanded greatly with the publication of the feminine correspondence in 1967, the Mari prophetic texts have drawn considerable attention. The corpus of texts has continued to grow, as more than twenty-thousand texts of the Amorite period have been recovered, including about two thousand published letters. For that matter, there are still prophetic texts that are known but not yet fully published (e.g., A.1890, initially identified as A.747). 1 The reported prophetic activity takes place over a geographic range from Aleppo to Babylon, as well as a temporal range of several generations of Mari kings, including Yahdun-Lim, Yasmah-Addu, and Zimri-Lim, a descendent of Yahdun-Lim. Especially in the time of Zimri-Lim the prophets are well embedded in the Mari realm and have access to the local governors and the king, as well as members of the immediate royal family. The prophets also appear with various unique titles as well as titles that have a much longer subsequent history, though prophetic activity also occurs with untitled persons. The texts communicate direct and indirect divine revelations that are usually favorable but at times critical, and draw upon various means including ecstasy and dreams. One of the questions that arises is whether this intriguing activity is a new phenomenon of the Amorite period or whether it has a much longer history, yet to be recovered. Jean-Marie Durand, a grand-master of the Mari texts, has suggested that the kind of activity probably existed much earlier, perhaps even in the time of Sargon of Akkad, though there is no direct evidence for such a development prior to the period of the Mari letters themselves. 2 His suggestion may well be sustained by subsequent discoveries. However, the present study seeks to point to various factors suggesting that the prophetic activity could be understood as an innovation, 1.  This text will be discussed below. For the texts generally, see the transliterations and translations in Martti Nissinen, with C. L. Seow and R. K. Ritner, Prophets and Prophecy in the Ancient Near East (SBLWAW 12; Atlanta: SBL, 2003). Note the index, 221–22, for the Mari texts cited by tablet number or volume number of the Archives Royales de Mari. Specific publication references will be given for texts not included in this corpus. 2.  J.-M. Durand, “La religion amorrite en Syrie à l’époque des Archives de Mari,” in Mythologie et Religion des Sémites Occidentaux, Vol. 1, Ébla, Mari, edited by G. del Olmo Lete (OLA 162; Leuven: Peeters, 2008), 479–80. Durand expressed this same perspective in his previous, briefer, overview, “La religión en Siria durante la época de los reinos amorreos según la documentación de Mari, in Mitología y Religión del Antiguo Oriente, 2/1, edited (and translated) by G. del Olmo Lete (Barcelona, 1994), 360–61.

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building on earlier tradition, that coalesced during the Amorite period in western Mesopotamia and north Syria.

The Titles and the Linguistic Context One indicator of the mixed Mesopotamian-Amorite world is the variety of titles used for the prophets. Granted, these titles are applied to the prophetic revealers by others–there is only one apparent instance of a self-described title. 3 The two most common titles have a straightforward Akkadian meaning, whatever their prehistory may be. 4 The prophets with the highest status are those identified as āpilum / āpiltum, “answerer” (twelve letters, seven other texts), and the prophets of somewhat lower status are called muhhûm / muhhûtum, “ecstatic” (eleven letters, ca. fourteen other texts), a Syrian variant of the mostly later form, mahhû / mahhûtu. 5 Indeed, the muhhûm and muhhûtum are described as becoming ecstatic, which fits with that title and the frequent occurrence of group activity. The title assinnum (four letters), some kind of cross-gender cultic functionary associated with goddesses, is only attested in Akkadian, though it seems to be a loan word of unknown background. The occasional title, qammatum (three letters), is of uncertain meaning but perhaps describes a hairdo (cf. Akk. qamāmum, “to dress hair,” qimmatum, “hair of the head”). Nabûm (*nabî’-), “one who calls/is called” (XXVI.216), 6 and *hay(y)āṭum (?), “watcher, inspector,” written ha-ya-sú, for “his watcher (?) (A.1890), which is taken by Durand as *hâ’iṭum, “seer,” 7 are best explained by Akkadian or by Akkadian and Northwest Semitic. So the titles themselves do not point to a new group of people coming from an outside culture into the Mesopotamian world, and the abundance of titles suggests that the prophetic phenomena are not yet routinized. This linguistic situation is consistent with the recorded personal names of the prophets, whether titled or untitled, which are predominately Akkadian, not Amorite–another indication of the embeddedness of the phenomena. About nine letters, not all of them complete, report revelations from untitled persons or are without any preserved reference to an intermediary (note XXVI.196). The revelations may come from actions (signs) responding to some special drinking 3.  XXVI.194 is sent by an āpilum of Šamaš, probably the letter indicated in XXVI.414, in which Atamrum, an āpilum of Šamaš, asked the local royal representative for the assistance of a special scribe who could “write down the message which Šamaš sent me for the king.” It was the scribe, however, who actually composed the letter. Note also that the several prophets mentioned in letters who are also mentioned in administrative texts as receiving rewards are therein given the same title. The nomenclature is consistent. 4. The variant writing, a-ap-lu-ú-um (*aplûm), which occurs twice in XXVI.209, has prompted J.-M. Durand to suggest that the term āpilum is an Akkadian adaptation of another word, presumably Amorite, namely aplûm, probably a non-Akkadian counterpart of Akkadian šā’ilum, “questioner” (“La religion amorrite,” 420–21). But the variant aplûm, occurring only in one text, a letter from Mukannišum to Zimri-Lim, may well be a dialectal variant or just an oddity of this particular text. 5.  Though it is a muhhûtum who advises Zimri-Lim, “Stay in Mari and I will continue to answer (ātanappal),” ( XXVI.237.26). 6. The title, *nabî’um, written na-bi-i(meš), describes a Hanaean prophetic group (XXVI.216), a group assembled by a palace official to provide a form of binary divination, through some unstated means, concerning the well-being of King Zimri-Lim. This situation is reminiscent of 1 Kings 22. 7.  This letter, cited below, is published in translation only; see above all, J.-M. Durand, “La religion amorrite,” 456–57, who provides translations of A.1890 and a related text, A.747. (Previously these numbers were reversed.)

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as reported by Queen Shiptu (XXVI.207, involving a male and a female; XXVI.212), from a married woman (XXVI.210), or from a young woman (XXVI.214). An unusual testimony to the process of assimilation of the Amorite population into the Mesopotamian tradition comes from a recently published citation of a letter of Samsi-Addu to his younger son, Yasmah-Addu, a ruler of Mari who was subsequently displaced by Zimri-Lim. As background for this letter we need to keep in mind that Yasmah-Addu is belittled by his father and his brother, Išme-Dagan, in various letters, such that the complaints may possibly be overstated. 8 But this letter presses further on the question of linguistic facility. Indeed, an issue for the historical context is the matter of the language usage within the Mari community. Some scholars have suggested that at least some of the oracles were initially delivered in Amorite but then translated into Akkadian, a point difficult to prove or disprove. In 2007, however, Nele Ziegler and Dominique Charpin published A.3823, a drafted letter from Yasmah-Addu, who has an Amorite personal name, to his father, SamsiAddu/Šamši-Adad- the name is written in the Mari texts both as Amorite and as Akkadian. (Šamši-Adad’s other royal son, Išme-Dagan, has an Akkadian name.) Yasmah-Addu reports his father’s admonition that since he cannot speak Amorite with the Hanaeans, he should not go to take a census with them himself but he should wait until he can send others, such as La’um, Mut-Bisir, and Mašum, who can speak Amorite. Yasmah-Addu responds by saying that he will soon be proficient in Amorite. And Yasmah-Addu’s concluding word is that he will take the census of the Hanaeans within three days of sending the letter. 9 Yasmah-Addu’s admission of linguistic shortcomings is instructive about the dominance of Mesopotamian tradition in the court circles of Šamši-Adad/SamsiAddu, whose realm was primarily to the north (centered on Šubat-Enlil) and east (centered on Ekallatum) of Mari.

Factors in Innovation In investigating the emergence of prophetic activity in the Mari letters, it is important to consider several factors that could have contributed to the possibility of such revelations together with the circumstantial and institutional support that could contribute to the generation and acceptance of such revelations. The experiential realities of life in the ancient Near East must be taken into account. These realities include (1) psycho-biological matters, such as culturally shaped dreaming, a universal human phenomenon, with at least most, if not all, cultures assuming some sort of transcendent realm, together with the widely dispersed possibility of ecstatic experiences that may be linked with divine revelations; (2) the common connection of prophetic revelations with cultic activities associated with a number 8.  Note I.69 + M.7538, published in D. Charpin and J.-M. Durand, “La prise du pouvoir par ZimriLim,” MARI 4 (Paris, 1985), 313–15; see also DEPM II.452. In this text Samsi-Addu chides his son for keeping the company of women whereas he and his other son, Išme-Dagan, are winning great victories. The father tells him to “go with the army to Qatna and show yourself to be a man.” In A.3609, published by J.-M. Durand, Le Culte des pierres et les monuments commémoratifs en Syrie amorrite (Mémoires de NABU 9 = FM 8; Paris, 2005), 17–20, Samsi-Addu ridicules him for an overindulgence in divine images. “Are you a baby? To make so many deities . . . You have given signs of the mentality of a child. . . .. . .” He adds: “Mari already is full of gods . . . . .Mari, and Aššur as well, is. . .. full of gods.” 9.  See the discussion in N. Ziegler and D. Charpin, “Amurritish Lernen,” WZKM 97 (2007) 55–60, together with the publication of A.3823.

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of culturally established deities, revelations that may include affirmation of divine commissioning; (3) revelatory empowerment that allows for appeal to the king and, on occasion, public declamation (“taking the issue to the people”); (4) the utilization of culturally accepted means of what was understood as empirical confirmation, both that supplied by revelatory persons themselves, such as becoming sick or making an offering, and that obtained by submission to an established divinatory means of “truth” testing. Note that dreams and ecstasy may be combined, as with a dream revelation in which deceased muhhûs speak while in the cultic presence of the god Abba (XXVI.227). Doubtless a fifth factor (5) is the psychic stress of a “Warring States” period with intense cultural interaction between Mesopotamian and Amorite traditions accompanied by rapid political realignments, a context ripe for innovations.

The Role of Revelatory Dreams and Ecstatic Messages Dreaming is a worldwide human phenomenon, regardless of time or culture, and, though less widespread, experiences of ecstasy, or the closely related trance state, are also found throughout the world. Those adept in the practice of ecstasy can easily attain that state, which often leads to strange behavior. Dreams likewise include an amazing range of experience, expanding the human imagination. Among the Mari prophets, ecstasy is directly associated with the muhhûm/muhhûtum, whose very title implies such a condition. Some Mari texts refer specifically to these persons becoming ecstatic, as in the case of Irra-gamil (XXVI.222) and of the muhhûm in an Ishtar ritual text (A.3165). But ecstasy is also associated with the assinnum, Šelebum (XXVI.213), as well as with Ahatum, the servant-girl of Dagan-Malik, who became ecstatic in the temple of Annunitum (XXVI.214). Also noteworthy, given that ecstasy is commonly a group phenomenon, is that several texts cite the activity of two or more ecstatics (XXVI.243, a group message; XXVII.32; M.9451), including the two deceased muhhû who give a joint message in a dream of the queen mother (XXVI.227). The revelations that come through dreams at best can but reflect the dreamer’s recollection and interpretation of the actual dream experience, even if seen more than once, as in the case of the young man in XXVI.234 who subsequently related the dream to an official who wrote (via a scribe) to the king, presenting several opportunities to edit or modify the report. Modern sleep laboratories can record that dreaming is taking place, but these records do not give any confirming evidence as to the specifics of the dreams themselves, which is dependent on human recollection. (And, of course, people do not always “remember” their dreams.) Dream communications are already cited in one of the liver models discovered at Mari that relates to an earlier period, with the report, “In his (!) dream I have seen a šakkanakku.” 10 10.  M. Rutten, “Trente-deux modèles de foies en argile inscrits provenant de Tel Hariri (Mari),” RA 35 (1938), 36–52; note no. 26. For an even earlier text from Mari that notes the importance of dreams, see M. Bonechi and J.-M. Durand, “Oniromancie et magie à Mari à l’époque d’Ėbla,” in P. Fronzaroli, ed., Literature and Literary Language at Ebla (Quaderni di Semitistica, 18; Florence, 1992), 151–61. The authors describe this Mari text as the oldest Mesopotamian text that concerns examining dreams (159).

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Dream communications are cited in twenty-some Mari texts of the Old Babylonian period, and another text is either from Mari or the Mari area. 11 These dream communications are generally regarded as divinely sent. As S. A. L. Butler notes, “Ancient and ‘primitive’ peoples believed that dreams were divine communications.” 12 Dreams and inspired messages are mentioned together, e.g., in an Assurbanipal text which says that Ištar “continually sent messages through dream(s) (and) the work of ecstatics (ina šutti šipir mahhê).” 13 There are several links between dream revelations and and non-dream revelations, such that the two categories cannot be separated from each other. First, the dream revelations often report a cultic location for the dream, as with the other revelations. Second, dream revelations, like the oracles, may be repeated. Third, note the dream, alluded to above, which the queen mother, Addu-duri, reports to ZimriLim, a dream featuring two deceased (!) muhhû conversing about the status of one of the king’s children (XXVI.227). Fourth, in XXVI.237 the queen mother reports her own dream, in which she had entered the temple of Belet-ekallim, then reports another dream, also associated with the temple of Belet-ekallim, in which she saw a šangûm of Ištar-bišra who repeatedly called out, “Turn back, O Dagan,” and also reports an oracle from a muhhûtum that was given in the temple of Annunitum, together with supplying the king with some of her own (!) hair and fringe (on which see below, s.v.  Confirmation). A similar combination of revelation reports occurs in the Mari text, M.7160, forthcoming, as graciously communicated by Dominique Charpin.

Cultic and Public Roles The āpilum/āpiltum, “answerer,” is not associated with ecstasy, though in three letters the “answerer” arose and spoke in a temple, presumably in response to an actual or implied query. The deities involved are Addu (of Halab or of Kallassu), three oracles; Dagan (of Terqa or of Tuttul), four oracles; Diritum, one oracle; Hišametum, one oracle, and Šamaš, three oracles. These oracles are usually private communications but the “answerer” may also come to the palace gate and from there send a message to the queen; the message may be repeated several times; the message may also be shouted out at the palace gate and at the gate of Išme-Dagan to “an assembly of the whole land” (XXVI.371); and there may be reference to witnesses being present. The muhhûm/muhhûtum, “ecstatic,” commonly has a cultic context and may also arise from the presence with the deity and speak the god’s request, e.g., for special cultic attention by the king (XXVI.215). The “ecstatic” may directly address the public about local building issues (XXVI.221bis) or even perform a dramatic symbolic action -eating a lamb raw- in the assembly of the elders at the city gate

11.  Note C. Wilcke, “Dagān-nahmīs Traum,” WO 17 (1986) 11–16, who suggests that the text could even come from Mari, though probably from the time of Yahdun-Lim or Sumu-Yamam (12, n. 2 in fine). 12.  S. A. L. Butler, Mesopotamian Conceptions of Dreams and Dream Rituals (AOAT 258; UgaritVerlag, 1998), 2. 13.  R. Campbell Thompson, The Prisms of Esarhaddon and Ashurbanipal Found at Nineveh, 1927– 8 (London: British Museum, 1931), 31, Plt. 15 ii.16–17; see also R. Borger, Beiträge zum Inschriftenwerk Assurbanipals (Wiesbaden: Harrowitz, 1996), 141.

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(XXVI.206). The “ecstatics” are especially associated with Dagan but also serve Nergal, Annunitum, Ištar, and other gods. The assinnum, the cross-gender cultic performer is especially associated with Annunitum, even becoming ecstatic in her temple and giving a message about the king’s affairs (XXVI.213). This same assinnum may privately communicate a message for the king to a high priestess, a member of the royal family, without mention of any other contact (XXVI.197). The message is always given from within a cultic context. Two letters associate the qammatum with Dagan of Terqa, and in both these texts her message opposed a treaty with Eshnunna. The qammatum advised the king not to enter into the treaty “without consulting god.” In other letters she “delivered her command, while in the temple of Belet-ekallim, to the p[riestess, In] ib-šina” (XXVI.199), or says, on behalf of a deity, “Today is the day of my sacrifices. I want to return to my temple” (XXVI.203). The unique title *hay(y)āṭum, “watcher,” has been mentioned above. In A.1890, a letter of a governor to the king, the “watcher” announces: My lord has instructed me, as follows: “It is necessary that the god Aštabi-El is on his bed and that they inquire of him as to what his “seer” (ha-ya-sú) says. Have them make an interrogation, that I may be informed.” Warad-Sin, (being) their official (rāb[i]ssunu), Aštabi-El took his place on the bed (irbiṣ). According to the advice of Aštabi-El, the matter -(an accusation of slander)- is disclosed to be false. . . . . . .

Durand observes that this seems to be a revelation that comes by means of a kind of double incubation. 14 The prominence of a cultic setting is also a feature of the untitled prophets and those who have revelatory dreams. Note the messages of “a man’s wife” (ARM XXVI.212) who announces that “Dagan sent me“; a young woman of Dagan-Malik” (XXVI.214) who became ecstatic in the temple of Annunitum and gave a message favorable to Zimri-Lim, conveyed by the administrative priest (šangûm); and a “woman” (XXVI.217) who promises divine favors for Zimri-lim but notes that the king has been culticly negligent. As for those who dream special dreams, the dreams are commonly associated with sanctuaries–being put to sleep by a deity (XXVI.232), being in a temple at the time of the dream (XXVI.236), or visiting a temple within the dream experience (XXVI.233).

Confirmation Process Another channel for the acceptance of prophetic revelations, by oracles and by dreams, is the connection with technical divination, specifically extispicy. As for the larger context, note the comments of Seth Richardson in the 2010 Oriental Institute Seminar volume. 15 He argues that the composition of the divinatory literature 14.  J.-M. Durand, “La religion amorrite,” 456–57. Note some general similarities of A.1890 with the Mari oneiromantic text from the Ebla period published by Bonechi and Durand, “Oniromancie et magie,” ii′ 4′–iii′ 3′, pp. 152–55. 15.  Seth Richardson, “On Seeing and Believing: Liver Divination and the Era of Warring States (II),” in Amar Annus, ed., Divination and Interpretation of Signs in the Ancient World (OIS 6; Chicago, 2010), 225–266.

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must be understood in the context of “the political crises that afflicted the age of its creation,” viz., the Old Babylonian period. This period, described as a “Warring States” epoch, was a time in which many third millennium cultural forms were being transformed by programmatic revision and political appropriation in the contest to restore geopolitical equilibrium. Extispicy was just such a revolution. 16 Divination is known, of course, in a developed form in the Ur III period, and “there is no doubt that extispicy was practiced in the third millennium,” though even in the time of Gudea extispicy was moving “more toward an intuitive or memorized craft than a scholarly one.” 17 In regard to Mari and divination, the thirty-some liver models from Mari mentioned above, ascribed by some to the Old Akkadian period, but more convincingly dated to the Old Babylonian period, 18 are a testimony to the importance of extispicy within the traditions of the Mari area. A number of these liver models refer to early Mesopotamian history, citing Sargon, Rimuš, Maništušu and Naram-Sin of Akkad, Šulgi and Ibbi-Sin of Ur III, Išbi-Irra and Išme-Dagan of Isin, and even the Amurru area. In the Zimri-Lim period extispicy is a dominant influence. A primary example of this dominance is the widespread attestation in the Mari prophetic texts of a submission of the oracle giver or dreamer to divination involving the symbolic testing of the authenticity of the person and/or message by means of using a snippet of the person’s hair and a piece of his or her garment to represent the person. Use of the hair and fringe is widespread. Two āpilūs (A.1698 and XXVI.219), an āpiltum (XXVI.204), a muhhûm (XXVI.215), a muhhûtum (XXVI.200, 201), an assinnum (XXVI.198; 213), a qammatum (XXVI.203), a woman (XXVI.217), and a servant-girl who had become ecstatic (XXVI.214) have had some of their hair and hem taken for examination. Dreamers also supply some hair and hem (XXVI.229, from the time of Yahdun-Lim; XXVI.234, with the additional note that the dreamer, a young man, has been ill since having the dream). In connection with the dream of the man of Šakka, a man of an unclear but special status, the hair and fringe are specifically not sent (XXVI.233). The queen mother, who reports two of her own dreams together with a revelation of a muhhûtum, submits some of her own hair and fringe (XXVI.237). In another letter (XXVI.217), a woman (sinništum) reports that a deity has provided her with a long oracle and the sender advises Zimri-Lim that “I have sent the words of her mouth to my lord.” The sender also provided samples of her hair and her fringe, adding, “Let my lord have oracles taken (and) according to what the god answers let my lord act.” This examination process is illumined by one of the texts from Tell er-Rimah, among which there are three letters from Zimri-Lim of Mari. Text 65, sent by the diviner-king to his wife, as translated by Stephanie Dalley, says: Speak to Iltani: thus Aqba-hammu. Concerning the hair and fringe of the young man which you sent me, I have performed an extispicy to obtain an omen about the hair and fringe, and the omens are favourable. The young man who is afflicted with the “hand of god” is very . . .; there is no question of guilt (mi-im-ma hi-ṭum ú-ul i-ba-aš-ši). And there was here also one young man afflicted with the “hand 16.  Richardson, 225. 17.  Richardson, 230–31. 18.  W. G. Lambert, “The Language of ARET V 6 and 7,” in P. Fronzaroli, ed., Literature and Literary Language,” 48; Richardson, 233–235.

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There are similar procedures in the tamītu texts published by W. G. Lambert. He notes that “When, in oracle questions to Šamaš and Adad, the seer [bārû] named the person for whom he was putting the questions, he held a lock of the hair and piece of the fringe of the garment of that person as a token in his hand.” 20 Nonetheless, the hair and hem were sometimes withheld. Note, for example, XXVI.233, in which the reporting official who conveyed the dream commands of Dagan through the man, Dagan-Malik, ends the letter by saying, “The man who [tol]d me this dream is presenting a pagrûm-sacrifice to Dagan. I have not sent him. And because this man is ‘trustworthy(?)’/’a royal messenger (?),’ I did not take (a sample) of his hair and his fri[ng]e.” The hair and hem ritual may have been regarded as a form of purification, as suggested in the Tell al Rimah text. Note that for the āpiltum, Inni-bana (XXVI.204), who arose and spoke and from whom some hair and hem is sent to the king, Inibšina suggests that they should perform a purification (li-za-ak-ku-ú) and that ZimriLim should seek omens, apparently a separate process. A similar request for purification is suggested in connection with a muhhûm (XXVI.215.25), whose hair and hem had been sent on. A divinatory process could also be carried out to test the authenticity of a dream. In XXVI.239 the sender reports her dream in which a man (awīlum) recommends an auspicious name for the king’s daughter, and urges the examination of the dream by a diviner (mār bārîm). The diviner’s charge is to conclude whether or not the dream was “seen” (naṭlat), presumably meaning “properly seen.” This fits with a letter to Zimri-Lim concerning a dream that a man saw about agricultural work (XXVI.226; not in Nissinen). The sender notes, “I have now sent [t]o my lord h[is hair] and his hem, of the man seeing the dream. May he (the king) proceed with a [de]cision about [th]at dream.” Doubtless this examination would involve extispicy, as indicated in XXVI.142 (not in Nissinen), a letter from a technical diviner (bārû) who reports, “As for the dream of Sammeter, I made (an examination). That dream was an early night (dream); [it was no]t seen ([ú-u]l na-aṭ-la-at).” On the other hand, a disturbing dream that is mentioned in a letter from a bārû, Asqudum (XXVI.82; not in Nissinen), was examined and the determination was that “it was see[n] (na-aṭ-la[at]).” Asqudum encourages the king to make further examination. Other forms of review include Queen Šiptu inquiring about signs (ittātum) by giving a special drink to a male and a female, apparently through yes or no responses (XXVI.207; see also XXVII.212). In XXVI.229, from the time of Yahdun-Lim, a predecessor of Zimri-Lim, which reports a dream of lady Ayala, the unidentified sender notes that “By means of bird divination, I investigated her. It (the dream) was seen (na-aṭ-la-at).” He adds, “Now I have sent some of her hair and her hem. May my lord investigate her.” In the same vein, note that Kibri-Dagan (XXVI.234) advised the king, regarding the dreamer, “Now the hem of his garment and some 19.  S. Dalley, C. B. F. Walker, and J. D. Hawkins, The Old Babylonian Tablets from Tell al Rimah (London: British School of Archaeology in Iraq, 1976), 64–65, with Plt. 19. Note the discussion of the sender and receiver, 31–33. 20.  W. G. Lambert, Babylonian Oracle Questions (Mesopotamian Civilizations 13; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2007), 3, see also 15–17.

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hair (etqum) from his head I have sent to my lor[d]. Since [t]hat da[y] t[hat] young man has been sic[k].” (Apparently, sickness following the dream or revelation is a sign of authenticity.) One important role that the common referral of revelatory encounters and dreams to technical divination plays is to provide a channel for correlating the innovative prophetic revelations, as with elusive individual dreams which, like ecstatic revelations, are easily manipulated, innocently or intentionally, in keeping with the culturally approved norms. Innovations are more acceptable when they can be incorporated under the existing norms or at least do not radically challenge the dominant patterns. A possible additional vehicle for successfully incorporating innovation is present in the appeal, particularly by the higher status āpilum/āpiltum, to widely accepted standards of justice. And for that matter, the principal instances occur in the statements addressed to the king of Mari by āpilû who are operating to some extent under the protection of Zimri-Lim’s overlord, the king of Aleppo. This appeal to justice and truth associates the innovative style with accepted norms. A.1121 + A.2731, a celebrated text that was among those first published (but initially without the subsequent join), contains words similar to a portion of the Laws of Hammurapi and other statements of Old Babylonian jurisprudence. The āpilum of Addu of Halab advises Zimri-Lim: “When a wronged man or wo[man] cries out to you, be there and judge their case. This only have I requested of you.” Likewise, in another text from Halab/Aleppo, A.1968, the āpilum of Addu of Halab advises: “Now hear a particular word of mine: ‘If anyone cries out to for judgment, saying “I have been wr[ong]ed,” be there to decide their case; an[swer him fai]rly. [Th] is is what I r[equest] of you.’ ” These sentiments are reminiscent of the “Laws of Hammurapi,” xlviii 3–19. In XXVI.206, a bold muhhûm of Dagan, who eats a lamb, raw, in front of the Saggaratum gate, cites a general rule: “A man who commits an assault (rīsum) should be expelled from the city,” reminiscent of the “Laws of Hammurapi,” xxxii.67–71 (§154). 21 So there are reasonable channels for the innovation of prophecy in the Mari period, from the time of Yahdun-Lim through that of Zimri-Lim. It remains possible, of course, that J.-M. Durand’s suggestion of an even earlier innovation will be borne out by subsequent textual discoveries. But for now these phenomena would seem to make sense as an innovation of the Old Babylonian period. 21. For easy reference, see Martha T. Roth, Law Collections from Mesopotamia and Asia Minor (SBLWAW 6: Atlanta: LBL, 1995).

Mathematical Lists: From Archiving to Innovation Christine Proust Paris

Mathematical Texts as Lists Mathematical cuneiform texts are lists. This particular feature of ancient texts is well known by assyriologists. But historians of sciences have paid little attention to the fact that the majority of sources from Mesopotamia are in the form of lists: lists of problems, lists of statements, lists of instructions, lists of numerical results or data, and so on. Approaching mathematical texts as lists is of interest for several reasons. First, lists are omnipresent in scholarly cuneiform texts, thus the study of lists as such is an important aspect of the study of Mesopotamian intellectual history. Second, mathematical texts provide the pinnacle of list production, thus they offer us excellent material in order to study lists. Moreover, the logical structure of mathematical texts allows us to grasp mechanisms of list making which are not clear in other fields, such as omen texts. Third, the structures of the lists provide information that cannot be captured in isolated items such as problems, or statements. However, oddly enough, mathematical texts have been little studied as lists. Historians of mathematics are mostly interested in results. They generally focus on problems, viewed as isolated items, regardless of the set of problems that a scribe decided to bring together, in a given order, on a single tablet. In this paper, I will focus on catalogues and series texts, which are lists of statements without indication for their solution. In these cases, the mathematical content does not lie in the procedures, since they are absent, but in the processes used for making the statements. These processes cannot be detected on the scale of a single section, containing one statement, but rather on the scale of an entire collection of Author’s note:  This paper is a synthesis of works I devoted to mathematical catalogues and series texts last years as a member of the Institute for Advanced Study, Princeton (2009), as a visiting scholar at the Institute for the study of the Ancient World, New York University (2010), and as a resident at the Institut Méditerranéen de Recherches Avancées (2010–2011). Part of this research was developed in the frame of an ANR project on the “History of Numerical Tables” headed by Dominique Tournès. In resulting articles, I addressed the following issues: How did ancient scribes work on mathematics with lists? (Proust to appear); How do paratextual elements, such as colophons, inform us on goals and uses of mathematical texts? (Proust 2012); What is a school text? (Proust in progress). On the basis of these results, this paper opens a new avenue of research focused on a historical issue: what was the impact of the collapse of the southern cities around the years 1730 and 1720 on the transformation of mathematical traditions? Beyond the present summary of previous works, this question will be the topic of further investigation.

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sections noted on a tablet or a series of tablets. On the scale of the single section, catalogue and series texts seem very similar: both are lists of statements without procedures, they share the same style using almost exclusively Sumerograms, the same topics dealing with fields or excavation, and, apparently at least, the same mathematical content. As a consequence, both categories were not differentiated by the majority of modern scholars, primarily by Neugebauer and Sachs. Several of the texts which present large numbers of problems without giving answers bear colophons giving the tablets a serial number. This gave rise to the name “Series Texts” used in MKT for this whole group of tablets. We think it wise, however, to abandon this name because the new material makes it difficult to define the border of this group.” (MCT: 37)

The “new material” Neugebauer and Sachs refer to here mainly consists of catalogues and related procedure texts kept at Yale and published in MCT. However, by examining the texts as lists, I will show that differences between catalogues and series texts are fundamental, and that they reveal distinct intellectual projects. The first is oriented toward an inventory of existing mathematical material, the second toward the creative exploration of new avenues of research.

Catalogues Among mathematical catalogues, eight are kept in the Yale Babylonian Collection and were published by Neugebauer and Sachs in MCT. These eight tablets seem to have belonged to the same lot purchased by Albert Clay from the dealer Elias Géjou. They are written in Sumerian on single column tablets, namely “type S tablets” (Tinney 1999: 160). The tablets bear a colophon providing the number of statements and, sometimes, the topic of the catalogue, that is, bricks (sig4), field (aša3), stone (na4), canal (pa5-sig) or trench (ki-la2). Given all these common features, it is highly probable that these eight catalogues come from the same city. Tablet YBC 4657 provides a good illustration of what a mathematical catalogue is. The tablet contains 31 statements dealing with the dimensions of a trench, and the work necessary to dig it. The tablet includes a short colophon, providing the number of statements (31 im-šu), and the topic of the statements (ki-la2). The first statement reads as follows: 1 YBC 4657 #1 1. [ki]-la2 [5 ninda uš 1 ½] ninda sag ½ ninda bur3-bi 10 gin2 sahar eš2-kar3 6 še [a2-bi lu2-huğ-ga2] 2. gagar sahar-[hi-a erim-hi-a] u3 ku3-babbar en-[nam] 7 ½ gagar 45 sahar-hi-a 3. 4(geš2) 30 [erim-hi-a] 9 gin2 ku3-babbar Translation 1. A trench. [5 ninda is the length, 1½] ninda the width, ½ ninda its depth, 10 gin2 the volume of assignment (for each worker), 6 še (silver) [the wage of a hired man]. 1.  In this article, the transliterations and translations of the texts kept at the Yale Babylonian Collection are based on collations I made in 2009 and 2010 thanks to the courtesy of Pr Benjamin Foster and Ulla Kasten. These readings are my own, but very closely follow MCT.

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2. The area, the volume, [the number of workers], and the (total expenses in) silver what? 7½ (sar) is the area, 45 (sar) the volume. 3. 4×60 + 30 [is the number of workers], 9 gin2 the (total expenses) in silver.

The 31 statements deal with the same topic, but, from a mathematical point of view, they are not homogeneous. They can be grouped into four sets of problems, as shown in Table 1.

Table 1.  Groups in Catalogue YBC 4657 Groups (sections)

Mathematical content

I (#1–8)

Volume of a prism (direct and reverse problems), simple proportionality, homogeneous quadratic equations.

II (#9–18

Volume of a prism (direct and reverse problems), homogeneous and non-homogeneous quadratic equations.

III (#19–28)

Simple and double proportionality

IV (#29–31)

Varia

The very interesting point is that some of these groups do in fact correspond to known procedure texts (MCT: 73). Indeed, the first group in catalogue YBC 4657 (#1–8) is parallel to the procedure text YBC 4663, which contains exactly the same statements, each statement being followed by the detailed procedure for its resolution. There is the same correspondence between the third group in the catalogue (#19–28) and another procedure text held at Yale. One can easily imagine that groups II and IV in the catalogue would correspond to lost procedure texts.

Associated Procedure Texts Let us look at these procedure texts more closely. For example, the first section of procedure text YBC 4663, which corresponds to Group I of the catalogue, contains the following text: 2 YBC 4663 #1 1. ki-la2 5 ninda uš 1½ ninda ⟨sag⟩ ½ ninda bur3-bi 10 ⟨gin2⟩ sahar eš2-kar3 6 ⸢še⸣ [a2-bi] 2. gagar sahar-hi-a erim-hi-a u3 ku3-babbar en-nam za-e in-da-zu-de3 3. uš sag UR-UR-ta 7.30 i-na-ad-di-ik-ku 4. 7.30 a-na bur3-bi i-ši 45 i-na-ad-di-ku 5. igi eš2-gar3 du8 6 i-na-ad-di-ku a-na 45 ⸢i⸣-ši 4.30 i-na-di-ku 6. 4.30 a-na i-di i-ši 9 i-na-di-ku ki-a-am ⸢ne2-pe-šu⸣ Translation 1. A trench. 5 ninda is the length, 1½ ninda the width, ½ ninda its depth, 10 gin2 the volume of assignment (for each worker), 6 še (silver) [the wages of a hired man]. 2. The area, the volume, the number of workers, and the (total expenses in) silver what? You, in your procedure, 3. The length and the width multiply each other. This will give you 7.30. 4. 7.30 to its depth raise. This will give you 45. 2.  Collation: line 2, I read in-da-zu-de3 instead of kid9-da-zu-de3 (MCT: 69).

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Christine Proust 5. The reciprocal of the assignment detach. This will give you 6. To 45 raise. This will give you 4.30 6. 4.30 to the waves raise. This will give you 9. Such is the procedure.

As we see, the statement is exactly the same as in the catalogue. While in the statement are used only Sumerian ideograms, the procedure is written in Akkadian. The problem is quite simple, and the procedure consists in a short sequence of multiplications and divisions. The second problem on the tablet derives from the first by circular permutations of the parameters, that is, some given data become unknowns and vice-versa. The six other problems in group I result from the same process. Thus the set of 8 problems forms a systematic exploration of all the facets of a linear situation. This kind of procedure text seems to reflect teaching practices in scribal schools. The use of a type S tablet, which are thought to have been used in the advanced stage of education, at least in Nippur, supports this interpretation. 3 To sum up, the characteristic features of the eight catalogues kept at Yale are the following: •  They are written in Sumerian. •  They bear a colophon providing the number of statements. •  They are composed of several groups of statements, corresponding to procedure texts. •  The associated procedure texts seem to be collections of exercises used in mathematics education.

Catalogues are composite, and appear to be compilations of statements collected from several procedure texts. The fact that the number of problems is carefully noted in a colophon evokes archival practice, perhaps linked to library management, or to the organization of the mathematical curriculum, or both.

Series Texts Series texts are often confused with catalogues; nevertheless, as we will see, they bear witness to a very different approach to mathematical problems by the ancient scribes. The series are lists of problem statements, as are the catalogues, but they are much longer and they run on several numbered tablets. Twenty series tablets are known to date. Of these, 14 are kept at Yale, two are in Chicago, two in Berlin and two in Paris. Series tablets have a different physical appearance to the catalogues: they are written on multi-column tablets or “type M” (Tinney 1999: 160). The writing is smaller and more cursive than is used in the catalogues.

AO 9071 Let us consider the tablet from the Louvre AO 9071 (published in Proust 2009). The colophon informs us that the tablet contains 95 sections and that the tablet is the seventh in a series. The first section of the text reads as follows: The length and the width I added: 50 ninda The length exceeds the width by 10 ninda. 3.  See (Delnero 2010), where the author shows that in Nippur, Type S tablets (labeled Type III in his article) are tools for training scribes.

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The statements provide relationships between a length and a width. No information is given about the concrete situation that these statements refer to. There is no question, no procedure, and no answer. But it is easy to guess that the length and the width are the dimensions of a rectangle, and that the implicit question is: what are the length and the width? Anyway, the wording is quite synthetic and abstract. Section 1 provides two relations that can be translated into modern mathematical language by a system of two equations with two unknowns (where x is the length and y is the width). Ï x + y = 5050 Ì Ó x - y = 1010

This is a basic problem, well known to the scribes of that time. The solution is: The length is 30 ninda, the width is 20 ninda. Section 2 reads as follows: 2/3 of the length: the width.

This section contains only one relation. The other relation is missing. In fact, the other relation has already been given in the first section. So, the complete statement which section 2 refers to is: ⟨The length and the width I added: 50 ninda⟩ (given in section 1) 2/3 of the length: the width.

This statement could be translated into the modern formula below: Ï x + y = 5050 Ô Ì2 x= y Ô Ó3

As we advance through the text the wording becomes increasingly elliptic and the equations increasingly complex. So much so that, when we reach section 59, we read: I subtracted: 45 (ba-zi-ma 45)

After all the information in the relevant sections has been collected, section 59 refers to the complete statement reconstructed in Table 2 (p. 220). As we see, extremely brief formulations may represent highly developed statements. How is this feat possible? The process is as follows. The statements are broken down into four blocks: the first block corresponds to the first equation of a linear system of two equations with two unknowns. The other blocks correspond to segments of the second equation. The second block is a linear combination of the two unknowns, the length and the width. The third block corresponds to another linear combination of the unknowns. The last block is a relationship between the second block and the third block. The list of statements is produced by successive variations of the four blocks. These variations are chosen in such manner that the solutions of the problems are always the same, namely, the length is 30 and the width is 20. These variations produce a tree-like structured list with four levels. An elliptic distribution of the information is grafted onto this tree-like structure. The

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Table 2. Complete Statement That Section 59 Refers To Block The length 3 times repeated, The width 2 times repeated I accumulated, its 13th To the length I added: 40.

Given in section 35

To the length 25 ninda I added, 50 the width, 1.30 and the length I subtracted, the length, the width and 35 I added. The 11th, the length 3 times repeated, the 7th, the length 2 times repeated, the 16th, the length and the width, 2 times repeated, the length and the width I accumulated, I subtracted, its remain, 3 times the length and 2 times the width I subtracted, its 7th [to the length and the width]

57

I subtracted: 45.

59

information is given in each level of the tree, and omitted in subsequent dependant levels. As we see, this text cannot be captured by a linear reading. The reader has to move back and forth in order to reconstruct the complete statements. How did the scribes identify the sections where they would find the relevant information? The cuneiform text does not provide any visual assistance. In fact, in this text, the most useful markers are the syntactic ones. As shown before, the statements are made up of four elements. These elements occupy different functions and can, therefore, be distinguished by means of lexical and grammatical indicators. Evidently, the ancient readers of the mathematical series needed some particular skills in order to understand them. The process used to produce the list is based on the building of the statements, without taking the resolution procedures into account. In other words, the list is not organized according to the methods of resolution, as is the case for procedure texts and catalogues, but according to the formal characteristics of the statements. This simple observation is enough to cast doubt on whether this text was intended to provide data for mathematical education (see also below the remarks about the “impossible problems”). The description just given for the Louvre tablet could be applied to all the series texts. The main features of these lists are: •  The list has a tree-like structure. •  The distribution of the information is elliptic. •  The language is very artificial. It imitates the style of the catalogues, but the Sumerian grammatical elements are almost absent, and unusual forms, that is, kinds of “neologisms”, are introduced.

Other very strange phenomena occur in the mathematical series texts. I will limit myself to mention only some of them.

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The Super Series Fundamentally, the process of producing the statements is based on the systematic variation of the coefficients in the equations. This process allows a virtually unlimited development of the lists of statements. It seems that the authors of the series were particularly interested in this potential. Indeed, we know a higher order series which brings together several series. Neugebauer (MKT I: 385) termed them as “Oberserie.” In these “super series”, such as YBC 4668 (MKT I: 420) the tablets contain hundreds of individual statements, and a complete series would probably bring together thousands of statements. The existence of super series reflects a kind of headlong rush in the hopeless quest for an exhaustive list of all possible equations having the same solution.

Impossible Problems Problem 59 on the Louvre tablet has no equivalent elsewhere in the known corpus of cuneiform mathematical texts. There is no evidence of how such a baroque “equation” was reduced in order to be resolved. Worse, in some series, there are problems leading to 3rd, 4th or 5th degree equations, which cannot be reduced into lower degree. Clearly, no method for solving such problems was known by the scribes of that time. Can we believe that in these cases, these problems were created for teaching?

A Classificatory Process As we have seen, the process for generating a list consists in varying coefficients in the equations, while still maintaining the same solutions. Thus, the process produces two effects: first, groups of equivalent equations; second, a kind of systematic classification of equations. These two effects are interesting in themselves, because they denote a reflection on the equations as such.

The Grammar of the Structures We have seen an example of a tree-like structure with the Louvre tablet. These structures present various features. Some structures have many levels, others only two. Some are very repetitive, with the same patterns reproduced many times, and therefore any damaged parts of the text can easily be reconstructed. Some others are bushy and the text cannot be guessed. What do these different patterns mean? The syntax of these structures remains to be described and interpreted, and the result of such a study may be useful for other kinds of texts. To conclude this brief evocation of mathematical series texts, it seems clear that they are not collections of problems for mathematical education. The series were written by erudite scribes of a very high level, having a deep knowledge of the Old-Babylonian mathematics traditions. The series texts were probably not aimed at students, but at fellow scholars.

A New Mathematical Culture between Antiquarianism and Innovation When looking at the mathematical texts as lists, we find that they do not all fulfil the same intellectual project. They do not target the same groups of readers, nor

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do they pursue the same objectives. Catalogues seem to reflect archival practices, while series texts bear witness to speculative inquiry, which produces new material. These issues could be important for the intellectual history of Mesopotamia at the end of the Old Babylonian period. Do the series reflect a different mathematical culture to that developed in the Old Babylonian scribal schools? Evidence such as paleography, serialization and the use of an artificial language imitating Sumerian argue for a quite late dating of the mathematical series texts, that is, the end of the Old Babylonian period (Høyrup 2002: 351). The authors of the series texts were familiar with the mathematical tradition of Southern Mesopotamia, the language and topics of which they seemingly imitate. At the same time, series texts are completely innovative in their language as well as in their mathematical content. From these remarks, some hypotheses about the context of the series texts could be suggested. It is possible that these texts come from communities of scribes who had fled southern Mesopotamian cities, such as Ur, Uruk or Larsa, after they were destroyed at the end of the 18th century. It is well known that some people from the south had resettled in northern Babylonia, for example in Sippar, Kish and Babylon, transferring some cultural elements (Finkelstein 1972: 11–13; Charpin 1986: 403–15). The authors of the series texts may have been members of these new scribal communities of Kish or Sippar, imbibed with southern culture. Anyway, the series texts are the result of an original intellectual project, quite different from those of the ancient tradition of the south. By writing the mathematical series, the scribes produced new material, which represents a considerable extension of the known mathematical corpus produced in previous periods. The interest of the scribes moved from solving the equations to the statements themselves, in an attempt to embrace every possibility.

References Delnero, P. 2010 Sumerian Extract Tablets and Scribal Education. Journal of Cuneiform Studies 62: 53–69. Charpin, D. 1986 Le clergé d’Ur au siècle d’Hammurabi. Genève: Droz. Finkelstein, J. J. 1972 Late Old Babylonian documents and letters. Yale oriental series 13. New Haven: Yale University Press. Høyrup, J. 2002 Lengths, Widths, Surfaces. A Portrait of Old Babylonian Algebra and its Kin. Berlin & London: Springer. MCT = Neugebauer and Sachs 1945. MKT I = Neugebauer 1935. Neugebauer, O. 1935 Mathematische Keilschrifttexte I. Berlin: Springer. Neugebauer, O., and Sachs A. J. 1945 Mathematical Cuneiform Texts. American Oriental Studies 29. New Haven: AOS & ASOR. Proust, C. 2009 Deux nouvelles tablettes mathématiques du Louvre: AO 9071 et AO 9072. Zeitschrift für Assyriologie und Vorderasiatische Archäologie 99: 167–232. 2012 Reading colophons from Mesopotamian clay-tablets dealing with mathematics. NTM Zeitschrift für Geschichte der Wissenschaften, Technik und Medizin 20: 123–56.

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2014a Does a Master Always Write for His Students? Some Evidence from Old Babylonian Scribal Schools. Pp. 69–94 in Studying Ancient Scientific Sources Produced in an Educational Context: Problems and Perspectives. Edited by A. Bernard and C. Proust. Boston Studies in the Philosophy of Science. Dordrecht: Springer. 2014b Des listes pour apprendre, résoudre, classer, archiver, explorer ou inventer. Pp. 491–510 in The Frontiers of Ancient Science: Essays in Honor of Heinrich Von Staden. Edited by A. F. Rodríguez, K.-D. Fischer, and B. Holmes. Berlin: de Gruyter. Tinney, S. 1999 On the Curricular Setting of Sumerian Literature. Iraq 61: 159–172.

Die lexikalische Serie á=idu Frauke Weiershäuser Heidelberg

Als M. Civil (1970) in seiner Publikation der lexikalischen Texte Ea=nâqu und Aa=nâqu bei der Diskussion zur Entstehung der beiden Serien kurz auf verwandte lexikalische Kompositionen einging, erwähnte er auch die Serie á=idu und kündigte die Publikation dieses Texte für den Band MSL 18 an. 1 Der Text dieser Serie ist seit langem soweit bekannt, daß die einzelnen Einträge in den Wörterbüchern AHw und CAD verzeichnet sind, allerdings sind bisher nur die Textvertreter aus Ninive, Sultantepe und das einzige bekannte Fragment in babylonischer Schrift in Form von Keilschriftautographien publiziert worden, 2 eine philologische Bearbeitung der Texte fehlt bislang. Neben diesen genannten Textvertretern existieren mehrere Tafeln aus Assur, deren Existenz zwar ebenfalls seit langem bekannt ist, 3 die aber bisher gänzlich unpubliziert sind. 4 Alle bekannten Textzeugen für die Serie Idu stammen aus neuassyrischer Zeit, allerdings sind aus Assur zwei Fragmente erhalten, welche in die mittelassyrische oder frühneuassyrische Zeit datieren und welche in CAD als “similar to Idu” bezeichnet werden. Möglicherweise ist eines dieser beiden Fragmente 5 als Vorläufer der späteren Rezension dieses Textes zu verstehen. Lexikalische Texte aus Assur, insbesondere Textvertreter aus der mittelassyrischen Zeit, weisen oftmals in Teilen eine andere Zeilenabfolge auf als die Texte der standardisierten Fassung des ersten Jahrtausends, auch wurden in den Texten der mittelassyrischen Zeit mitunter Einträge aufgenommen, welche in der Fassung des ersten Jahrtausends nicht mehr 1.  MSL 14, 165. Der Band ist bis heute nicht erschienen, derzeit als “in Vorbereitung” von Ch. Woods angekündigt. In MSL 18 sollen neben der Serie á=idu auch igi-du8-a=tāmartu und die Gruppenvokabulare bearbeitet werden. 2.  Folgende Texte stammen aus Ninive: Idu I: K 14424 (CT 11, 37), K 7772 (CT 11, 33), K 11201 (CT 11, 34), K 4196 (CT 11, 41), K 4246 (CT 11, 38)+K 4145c (CT 11, 44)+K 4145d (CT 11, 43)+K 10029 (CT 18, 5), K 11163 (CT 19, 9), K 4145 (CT 11, 43), K 7790 (CT 11, 50); Idu II: DT 40 (CT 11, 29–32), K 7693 (CT 11, 38), K 11204 (CT 11, 36), K 7811 (CT 11, 38). Folgendes Fragment, das zu Idu II gehört, weist babylonische Zeichenformen auf: 47935 (CT 12, 27). Aus Sultantepe stammen die Texte STT 2, 395–396, aus Assur der Text YBC 7135 (Beckman und Foster, FS Sachs No. 3). In seinem Artikel “Lexikalische Listen” (1980–83: 541) hat Cavigneaux unter §16 die bekannten Textvertreter von Idu zusammengestellt. Dort werden zu Tafel I noch die Texte K 7668 (CT 11, 39) und K 7808 (CT 11, 38) sowie zu Tafel II die Texte K 5430 (CT 11, 6) und K 7769 (CT 11, 34) erwähnt, letzterer mit Fragezeichen. Die Zugehörigkeit dieser sehr kleinen Fragmente zu der Serie Idu ist meiner Ansicht nach nicht zwingend. 3.  Die Texte werden zitiert von Cavigneaux (1980–83: 624) sowie in den Wörterbüchern. 4.  Die Publikation dieser Texte aus Assur wird derzeit von der Autorin im Rahmen der Publikation aller lexikalischer Texte aus Assur, welche sich im Vorderasiatischen Museum zu Berlin befinden, für die Reihe KAL vorbereitet. Die Veröffentlichung ist für 2014 geplant. 5.  VAT 10237, VAT 10754, das in CAD ebenfalls als “similar to Idu” bezeichnet wird, gehört zum Vokabular Sa.

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zu finden sind. 6 Bei den Texten der Serie Idu ist zu beobachten, daß man in Assur generell eine andere Abfolge der einzelnen Einträge wählte als in Ninive, allerdings ist Idu insofern ein Sonderfall, als die Serie, wie schon M. Civil anmerkte, 7 wohl spät entstanden ist und nie standardisiert wurde. Von einer Ausnahme abgesehen (BM 47935, CT 12, 27) stammen alle bisher bekannten Textvertreter aus dem Norden, aus Assur, Ninive und Sultantepe, wobei der Text in der Rezension aus Ninive auf zwei Tafeln verteilt wurde. Im folgenden sollen der Aufbau der Serie vorgestellt sowie die Unterschiede der Rezension in Assur und Sultantepe einerseits und jener in Ninive andererseits deutlich gemacht werden. Die Struktur von Idu entspricht jener der großen Serien Ea=nâqu und Aa=nâqu, das heißt, auf einen senkrechten Keil, der jeden Eintrag einleitet, folgt in der ersten Subkolumne die phonetische Wiedergabe des in der zweiten Subkolumne aufgeführten Logogramms, gefolgt vom Namen des Zeichens und zuletzt mehreren akkadischen Äquivalenten (z.B.: diš–i–I–igittu–nâdu). Die Serie Ea bietet in der Regel nur ein einziges akkadisches Äquivalent pro Logogramm, wohingegen Aa die gleiche Anordnung der Logogramme von Ea aufweist, aber zumeist eine ganze Reihe akkadischer Gleichungen aufführt. In Idu finden sich in der Regel 5–10 akkadische Einträge je Logogramm, jedoch können auch deutlich mehr oder weniger akkadische Gleichungen aufgenommen werden. Der kürzeste Abschnitt gibt zwei akkadische Äquivalente für das Zeichen UŠ G an, der längste Abschnitt behandelt das Zeichen SAG, für welches 26 akkadische Gleichungen gegeben werden. Die vollständige Struktur mit vier Subkolumnen je Eintrag findet sich in den Texten aus Ninive, jedoch nicht in jenen aus Assur und Sultantepe. Hier finden sich pro Eintrag nur zwei Subkolumnen, die Schreiber geben lediglich das Logogramm und die jeweiligen akkadischen Äquivalente an, in wenigen Fällen wird die Lesung des Logogramms durch Glossen präzisiert. Die Serie Idu behandelt im wesentlichen einfache Grundzeichen wie I, SA oder TAB, beinhaltet jedoch auch einige komplexe Zeichen wie GUG und ŠAB, welche zu den komplexen Diri-Komposita 8 zählen. Wie die Serien Ea, Aa und Diri ist auch Idu nach den sumerischen Einträgen organisiert, im Gegensatz zu den lexikalischen Texten Antagal oder Erimḫuš, deren Aufbau sich nach den akkadischen Einträgen richtet. Im Vergleich zu den sehr umfangreichen Serien Ea und Aa ist die ebenso strukturierte Serie Idu mit insgesamt nur ca. 560 Zeilen deutlich kürzer.

Die Textvertreter aus Assur Von den drei erhaltenen Textvertretern der Serie Idu aus Assur sind zwei in großen Teilen erhalten: die Tafel VAT 9712 und der Text VAT 14266 (+) 14284 (+) YBC 7135. Die folgende Abbildung zeigt eine Rekonstruktionszeichnung der letztgenannten Tafel mit der Anordnung der einzelnen Fragmente. 9 (Abb. 1) 6.  Weiershäuser, Beobachtungen zur Entwicklung des Korpus lexikalischer Texte in Assur. Dies. Die Online-Datenbank der lexikalischen Texte aus Assur, 130–138. 7.  Civil (1970: 166). 8.  Bei Diri-Komposita handelt es sich um aus mehreren Grundzeichen zusammengesetzte Zeichen, deren Lesung sich nicht aus den einzelnen Bestandteilen ableiten läßt. So kann z.B. die Zeichenfolge UD.DU sowohl è als auch ara4 gelesen werden (Diri 1, 149 und 188, MSL 15, 110). 9. YBC 7135 ist publiziert von Beckman und Foster in der Gedenkschrift Sachs, alle anderen Texte aus Assur werden derzeit für die Publikation in der Serie KAL vorbereitet.

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Abb. 1.

VAT 9712 ist eine Tafel mit zwei Kolumnen je Seite und ursprünglich ca. 200 Zeilen, während VAT 14266+ auf Vorder- und Rückseite je drei Kolumnen aufweist und einstmals ca. 480–500 Zeilen umfaßte. In beiden Texte wird die Zahl der akkadischen Einträge je Abschnitt mit einem Zahlzeichen angegeben, wobei in VAT 14266+ mitunter zwei akkadische Einträge je Zeile geschrieben sind, doch wird mit dem Zahlzeichen eindeutig die Anzahl der akkadischen Einträge, nicht die der geschriebenen Zeilen gezählt. In VAT 9712 ist auf der Rückseite das Kolophon erhalten, welches diesen Text als zu der Serie Idu gehörig kennzeichnet, wobei die Angabe, um welche Tafel dieser Serie es sich handelt, leider zerstört ist. Als Fangzeile wird die Gleichung gaz=dâku angegeben, worauf später noch einzugehen sein wird. In den auf beiden Tafeln erhaltenen Passagen sind die Einträge beider Texte vollständig parallel, wobei sowohl die akkadischen Einträge je Logogramm absolut identisch sind als auch die Abfolge der einzelnen behandelten Logogramme. Bemerkenswert ist in diesem Zusammenhang, daß VAT 9712 nicht den Anfang oder das Ende der umfangreicheren Tafel VAT 14266+ dupliziert, sondern den mittleren Teil, das heißt, die Einträge von VAT 9712 finden sich in den Kolumnen III-V von VAT 14266+. Hierauf wird später noch einzugehen sein.

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Die dritte zur Serie Idu gehörige Tafel aus Assur ist das Fragment VAT 10908, ein Text, welcher sich von den oben genannten nur dadurch unterscheidet, daß der Schreiber die kleinen Zahlzeichen zur Zählung der akkadischen Einträge wegließ. Glossen, welche die korrekte Lesung der Logogramme angeben, stehen bei diesem Text nicht konsequent, sondern nur dort, wo es dem Schreiber notwendig erschien. Dieses Fragment dupliziert keine Einträge der zuvor genannten Tafeln VAT 9712 und VAT 14266+, was jedoch mit dem Erhaltungszustand der drei Texte zu erklären ist, von denen keiner vollständig auf uns gekommen ist.

Die Textvertreter aus Ninive im Vergleich zu jenen aus Assur Der wichtigste Textzeuge der Rezension von Idu aus Ninive ist die Tafel DT 40 (CT 11, 29–32), eine weitgehend erhaltene vierkolumnige Tafel mit rund 330 Zeilen und einem Kolophon, welches die Tafel als die zweite der Serie Idu ausweist. In diesem Text ist die vollständige Struktur mit jeweils vier Subkolumnen je Eintrag erhalten. Die Rekonstruktion der ersten Tafel der Serie nach der Ninive-Rezension ist schwieriger, da hierfür keine ebenso gut erhaltene Tafel mit Kolophon zur Verfügung steht. Dies bedeutet, daß die erste Tafel der Ninive-Rezension anhand verschiedener Fragmente rekonstruiert werden muß. Der wichtigste Textvertreter für die Tafel I aus Ninive ist K 4145c+4145d+4246+10029. 10 Einige Zeilen der ersten Tafel von Idu nach der Zählung des CAD sind jedoch ausschließlich durch die Texte aus Assur bekannt, so die Zeilen 55–62 und 135–140. CAD zitiert nahezu alle akkadischen Einträge von Idu nach der Zeilenzählung der Ninive-Rezension, wobei 172 Zeilen für die erste Tafel angegeben werden, von denen die ersten 29 verloren sind. Für die zweite Tafel werden 383 Zeilen zitiert. Wie im Folgenden zu zeigen sein wird, bezieht sich die Benennung der einzelnen Tafel als Idu I und Idu II nach CAD jedoch nur auf die Rezension aus Ninive, in den Texte aus Assur werden die einzelnen behandelten Logogramme anders auf die verschiedenen Tafeln verteilt. Innerhalb der einzelnen Sektionen, welche jeweils ein bestimmtes Logogramm mit seinen akkadischen Äquivalenten umfassen, differieren die Texte aus Assur und jene aus Ninive praktisch nicht voneinander, in beiden Rezensionen finden sich pro Logogramm die gleichen akkadischen Einträge in derselben Reihenfolge. Deutliche Unterschiede bestehen jedoch in der Abfolge der einzelnen behandelten Logogramme. Tafel I der Ninive-Rezension behandelt 16 Logogramme während sich in Tafel II insgesamt 59 Logogramme finden. In der Rezension aus Assur werden dagegen die Logogramme der Tafeln I und II in Ninive miteinander vermischt. Dabei ist jedoch auffällig, daß sich die Abfolge der einzelnen Logogramme der Tafeln I und II nach der Ninive-Rezension in Assur nicht ändert, es hat lediglich den Anschein, als wären die Einträger der beiden Tafeln ineinander verwoben worden, wie die folgende Grafik zeigt: (Abb. 2). Die folgende Abbildung zeigt eine Rekonstruktion der Einträge auf der Tafel VAT 14266 (+) 14284 (+) YBC 7135 sowie die Verteilung der einzelnen behandelten Logogramme. Es ist deutlich erkennbar, daß die Einträge von Tafel I und II (nach der Ninive-Rezension) bei diesem Text aus Assur zwar ineinander verwoben 10.  Zu den einzelnen Textvertretern aus Ninive siehe Anm. 2.

Die lexikalische Serie á=idu

229

Abb. 2.

sind, ihre jeweilige Position innerhalb der Abfolge der einzelnen Logogramme jedoch nicht verändern. Die fehlenden Einträge dieser Tafel können weitgehend mit Hilfe der Texte aus Ninive und für die Kolumne III–IV mittels VAT 9712 ergänzt werden. Die kleine Lücke in Kolumne V zwischen dem Hauptfragment und dem kleinen Brüchstück YBC 7135 wurden nach Texten aus Ninive ergänzt, für die untere Hälfte der Kolumne VI ist VAT 10908 die wichtigste Quelle der Rekonstuktion. (Abb. 3) Bei dieser Rekonstruktion kommt man zu dem Schluß, daß die ersten 103 Zeilen der Tafel II aus Ninive nicht in der hier vorliegenden Fassung aus Assur aufgenommen waren. In Kolumne I finden sich ausschließlich Einträge der Tafel I aus Ninive, die drei Abschnitte, welche hier mit B 1–19 bezeichnet sind, waren nach CAD nicht Teil der Hauptrezension aus Ninive, obwohl sich diese Einträge auch auf Tafeln aus Ninive finden. 11 Auf diese mit B 1–19 bezeichneten Einträge folgt der 11.  K 7772 (CT 11, 33) und K 11201 (CT 11, 34).

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Abb. 3.

Abschnitt “MA”, welcher nach der Ninive-Rezension die Zeilen II, 104–106 umfaßt. Die Tatsache, daß die ersten 103 Zeilen von Idu Tafel II nicht auf der großen Tafel VAT 14266+ aus Assur zu finden sind, bedeutet indes nicht, daß diese Zeilen in Assur nicht bekannt waren oder nicht der Serie Idu zugerechnet wurden, wie VAT 10908 12, der dritte Textvertreter der Serie Idu aus Assur, belegt. Die Tafel VAT 10908 weist, insbesondere auf der Rückseite, deutliche Parallelen zu dem Sultantepe-Text STT 395 auf (Abb. 4): Beide Texte beginnen mit Einträgen, welche irgendwo in die Mitte von Idu II gehören, beide fügen die Abschnitte “LUḪ” und “KIR4”, welche nicht zur Ninive-Rezension gehören, hinzu, fügen dann die ersten 36 Zeilen von Idu II an und beschließen diesen Abschnitt mit einer doppelten Linie. Diese beiden Texte zeigen also die gleichen Besonderheiten, daß sie Logogramme aufnehmen, welche in der Ninive-Rezension nicht enthalten sind, wie die Abschnitte “LUḪ” und “KIR4” und daß sie die ersten 36 Zeilen von Idu II in Ninive als letzte Zeilen der Tafel führen und mit dem Abschnitt “UŠ” enden. Abschnitte, welche Logogramme behandeln, die nicht in der Hauptrezension aus Ninive auf12.  Die Tafel wird ebenfalls in der Reihe KAL publiziert werden.

Die lexikalische Serie á=idu

231

Abb. 4.

genommen sind, finden sich ja auch auf der Tafel VAT 14266+, so der Abschnitt B 1–16 auf der Vorderseite und Abschnitt D iv 6–8 und 9–11 auf der Rückseite in Kolumne VI. Betrachtet man nun alle drei Textzeugen für die Serie Idu aus Assur, so stellt man fest, daß jeder dieser Texte eine eigene Struktur und Auswahl an behandelten Logogrammen aufweist, wobei VAT 9712 und VAT 14266+ Parallelen bilden, VAT 10908 jedoch mit der Anordnung von Idu II, 29–36 am Ende der Tafel eine eigene Struktur hat. Weiter oben wurde bereits das Kolophon der Tafel VAT 9712 erwähnt, welches nach dem Abschnitt “DIB” eine Fangzeile mit der Gleichung “gaz=dâku” aufweist. Die beiden Zeilen nach dem Abschnitt “DIB” sind auf VAT 14266+ leider sehr stark beschädigt, sie finden sich am unteren erhaltenen Rand der Kolumne V von VAT 14266. In der letzten erhaltenen Zeile dieses Fragments ist am Zeilenende -a-ku zu lesen, es kann also für VAT 14266 der aus VAT 9712 bekannte Eintrag “gaz=dâku” ergänzt werden. Diese Gleichung ist mir bislang nur von einem einzigen weiteren lexikalischen Text bekannt, nämlich vom Vokabular zu Sb II, 205. In der Ninive-Rezension von Idu ist ein Abschnitt “GAZ” nicht zu finden. “gaz=dâku” ist also nicht die erste Zeile eines uns bekannten lexikalischen Textes. Da der Text von VAT 9712 die Kolumnen III und IV sowie die erste Hälfte der Kolumne V von VAT 14266+, also etwa das mittlere Drittel, abdeckt, uns eine Fangzeile bietet, welche keiner bislang bekannten lexikalischen Tafel zuzuweisen ist, und da die Struktur von Idu in Assur deutlich von jener in Ninive abweicht, liegt die Annahme nahe, daß Idu in Assur nicht zwei (wie in Ninive), sondern drei Tafeln umfaßte. Es ist also denkbar, daß Idu Tafel I in Assur die Einträge der Kolumnen I und II von VAT 14266+ umfaßte, Tafel II die Kolumnen III bis Mitte von V (also genau jenen Abschnitt, der von VAT 9712 wiedergegeben wird), während Tafel III die verbleibenden Einträge von

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Kolumne V und jene von Kolumne VI nach VAT 14266+ enthielt. Möglicherweise gehörten auch die Einträge von Idu II, 1–36 noch zu Tafel III in Assur, womit die Tafel VAT 10908 dann ein Vertreter für diese dritte Tafel wäre, ebenso wie STT 395 aus Sultantepe.

Idu im Verhältnis zu anderen Vokabularen und Syllabaren wie Sa, Sb, Ea, Aa und Diri Mehr als 80% der in Idu behandelten Zeichen finden sich auch in anderen Syllabaren und Vokabularen wie in den Vokabularen zu Sa und Sb, in den großen Serien Ea=nâqu und Aa=nâqu sowie, in geringerem Maße, in Diri. Die rund 20% der Zeichen, welche in Idu behandelt werden, sich aber derzeit nicht in einem der anderen genannten Serien finden, sind wahrscheinlich dennoch in einer dieser anderen Serien behandelt worden, standen aber wohl in Passagen, welche heute verloren sind. Es ist also anzunehmen, daß alle in Idu behandelten Logogramme auch in einer der früher zusammengestellten und im Unterricht verwendeten Syllabare zu finden waren. Alle diese lexikalischen Kompendien dienten ja dem Zwecke, den Schüler mit den einzelnen Keilschriftzeichen vertraut zu machen und ihn die verschiedenen Lesevarianten eines Zeichen ebenso zu lehren wie verschiedene akkadische Äquivalente der unterschiedlichen sumerischen Logogramme. Somit stellt sich die Frage, warum die mesopotamischen Schreiber und Lehrer mit Idu eine neue Liste zusammenstellten, wenn diese doch keinen anderen Lerninhalt aufweisen konnte als die seit langem verwendeten, älteren Kompendien. Die Vokabulare zu Sa und Sb geben, ebenso wie Ea, üblicherweise nur eine akkadische Gleichung je Logogramm an. Diri behandelt die komplizierten, zusammengesetzten Zeichen, deren Lesung sich nicht aus der Lesung der einzelne Bestandteile eines Zeichens ableiten läßt. Doch die große Serie Aa=nâqu ist ihrem Inhalt und Aufbau nach der Serie Idu sehr ähnlich. Beide Serien geben in ihrer vollständigen Struktur neben dem Logogramm auch dessen Lesung, den Zeichennamen und eine längere Liste akkadischer Gleichungen an. Unterschiede finden sich jedoch deutlich in der Auswahl der akkadischen Äquivalente, welche je Logogramm aufgenommen sind. Weniger als die Hälfte aller akkadischen Einträge findet sich sowohl in Aa als auch in Idu, das heißt, die Schreiber, welche die Logogramme und ihre akkadische Entsprechungen für Idu zusammenstellten, haben nicht einfach die entsprechenden Passagen aus Aa kopiert, sondern sie haben neue akkadische Gleichungen aufgenommen, andere dafür weggelassen. Auch die Reihenfolge, in der die einzelnen Logogramme in Idu behandelt werden, weicht von jener in Aa ab. Etwas problematisch ist der Vergleich der Einträge in Aa insofern, als noch immer umfangreiche Teile dieser großen Serie verloren sind, was einen direkten Vergleich mit ähnlich aufgebauten Listen wie Idu erschwert. Für eine Reihe der in Idu behandelten Logogramme ist zwar bekannt, daß sie auch in Aa aufgenommen waren, die Einträge selber sind jedoch verloren. Dies gilt beispielsweise für die Passage Idu II, 43–52, wo das Logogramm GÁL behandelt wird. So finden sich zwar die Einträge GÁL=bašû und naṣāru in Ea I, 233–234, der zugehörige Abschnitt aus Aa ist jedoch verloren. Gleiches gilt für den Abschnitt zum Logogramm SUM (Idu II, 93–96), welcher in Aa IV/2 anzusetzen ist. Die folgende Tabelle zeigt einen Vergleich der akkadischen Einträge, welche in Idu und in Aa für das Logogramm DUB aufgeführt sind:

Die lexikalische Serie á=idu Logogramm

Idu II, 37– 42

233

Aa III/5, 1–9

šapāku (aufschütten) lamû (belagern)

DUB

tabāku (schütten)

saḫāru (sich wenden)

sarāqu (hinschütten)

adiptum (ein Schmuckstück?)

ṭuppu (Tontafel)

ṭuppu (Tontafel)

lamû (belagern)

ṣebû (wünschen)

ṣebû (wünschen)

šapāku ša eperi (aufschütten der Erde) mašādu ša pirtim (das Haar kämmen) puṣṣu ša qan ṭuppi (das Schreibrohr reinigen) palāku ša pilku (Grenzen ziehen)

Die Einträge ṭuppu, lamû und ṣebû sind in beiden lexikalischen Kompendien zu finden, ṭabāku und šarāqu finden sich nur in Idu und der Eintrag šapāku aus Idu ist in Aa durch den Zusatz ša eperi ergänzt. Die Gleichung DUB=lamû ist auch zu finden in Ea III, 201, was nicht weiter erstaunnt, ist dies doch die Zeile, welche Aa aufnimmt, um dann dem Logogramm DUB weitere akkadische Äquivalente hinzuzufügen. ṭuppu und lamû waren sicher die gebräuchlichsten Gleichungen für DUB. Der Eintrag DUB=lamû findet sich auch im Vokabular zu Sb II, 113 sowie in Antagal III, 206 und in Nabnītu O, 264. DUB=tabāku ist bislang aus keiner anderen lexikalischen Liste bekannt, die Gleichsetzung von DUB mit sarāqu ist nur noch in Z. 35 der kurzen Version von igi-du8-a belegt. 13 Als ein weiteres Beispiel seien hier die Zeilen 11–17 aus Idu II aufgeführt, von denen sich einige Einträge auch in anderen Zeichenlisten finden lassen: UḪ

uplu (Laus)

Aa V/2, 128; Ea V 106; Sb I, 28; Diri II, 70

nābu (eine Laus)

Aa V/2, 138; Diri II, 71

kalmatu (ein Parasit) Aa V/2, 139; Ea V, 106; Diri II, 72 pirša’u (Fliege)

Aa V/2 132; Diri II, 73

sāsu (Motte)

-

mūnu (Raupe)

-

šeleppû (Schildkröte) Aa V/2, 135

Es ist auch hier wieder deutlich, daß die Zusammenstellung der Einträge in Idu von der in vergleichbaren anderen Listen abweicht. Die ersten vier Einträge finden sich zwar in gleicher Reihenfolge auch in Diri und, zusammen mit dem letzten Eintrag, in anderer Reihenfolge auch in Aa, doch ist die Eigenständigkeit der Kompilation von Idu auch an diesem Textabschnitt deutlich erkennbar. Die Gleichung von UḪ mit mūnu ist bislang in keiner anderen lexikalischen Liste belegt. Bis auf mūnu finden sich alle Einträge dieser Passage auch in Urra Tafel 14 was aber ein Sonderfall ist, da hier Tiere gelistet werden. Andere Abschnitte von Idu finden in dieser Form keine Entsprechung in Urra. 13.  B. Landsberger, O. R. Gurney (1957–58: 81).

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Vergleicht man nun die Reihenfolge, in der die einzelnen Logogramme in den verschiedenen Vokabularen behandelt werden, mit jener in Idu, so läßt sich bislang kein System erkennen, nach dem die Schreiber die Zeichen angeordnet hätten, sie folgten weder der Anordnung nach den Vokabularen zu Sa und Sb, noch jener in Ea und Aa. Die folgende Tabelle listet als Beispiel die ersten zehn Logogramme aus Idu II und nennt die jeweiligen Tafeln der Vokabulare zu Sa und Sb sowie von Ea und Aa, in welchen diese Logogramme aufgenommen werden: Idu

Vok. zu Saa

Vok. zu Sb Ea / Aa

MAŠ

Frgm. O

II

I

GÍR

-

II

VIII

UḪ

Frg. B und C

I

V

UŠUM -

II

VIII

MIR

-

I

VIII

DU10

(abgebrochen) I

V

DU6

-

III

GÌŠ

(abgebrochen) -

-

DUB

(abgebrochen) II

III

GÁL

Frgm. T

I

I

I

a.  Weite Teile des Vokabulars zu Sa fehlen derzeit noch. Als “(abgebrochen)” sind hier Logogramme gekennzeichnet, die im Syllabar A belegt sind, zu denen die Einträge im zugehörigen Vokabular aber fehlen.

Zusammenfassung Zusammenfassend läßt sich folgendes festhalten: Aus Assur sind verschieden Textvertreter der Serie Idu erhalten. Dies ist erstens der Text VAT 10908, welcher dem aus Sultantepe bekannten Fragment STT 395 stark ähnelt und der Passagen enthält, welche in der Rezension von Idu aus Ninive unbekannt sind. Des Weiteren haben wir den langen Text VAT 14266+ und als letztes VAT 9712, welcher den mittleren Teil von VAT 14266+ exakt dupliziert und uns ein Kolophon überliefert mit der ansonsten unbekannten Fangzeile “gaz=dâku”. Daneben sind weitere Texte aus Assur bekannt, welche in CAD als “similar to Idu” zitiert werden und die aus mittelassyrischer Zeit stammen. Damit ergibt sich ein recht buntes Bild bezüglich der Überlieferung der Serie Idu in Assur, und man kommt schnell zu dem gleichen Ergebnis wie M. Civil bereits vor 30 Jahren: Idu ist wohl eine sehr späte Serie, welche möglicherweise nie standardisiert wurde. 14 Andererseits ist es durchaus bemerkenswert, daß die Abschnitte, welche einzelne Logogramme behandeln, in sich in Assur und Ninive absolut identisch sind. In Assur und Sultantepe wurden diese Logogramme im Vergleich zu Ninive in einer andere Reihenfolge behandelt, außerdem wurden Logogramme aufgenommen, welche in Ninive nicht mehr in Idu behandelt wurden. Doch die Schreiber aus Ninive haben die Reihenfolge der Logogramme nicht gänzlich geändert. Sie haben lediglich einige dieser Abschnitte he14.  M. Civil (1970: 166).

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rausgenommen und an eine Position weiter vorne eingeordnet und so eine Anordnung geschaffen, die wir heute als “Idu Tafel I” bezeichnen. Es sind wohl alle in Idu aufgenommene Logogramme auch in viel älteren Vokabularen und Syllabaren behandelt worden wie den Vokabularen zu Sa und Sb, Ea, Aa und Diri, wobei Idu in seiner Struktur die größte Ähnlichkeit mit Aa aufweist. Idu ist jedoch deutlich kürzer als Aa. Möglicherweise ist Idu in Assyrien als Kurzform von Aa geschaffen worden. Idu ist kompakter als Aa aber elaborierter als Sa und Sb und behandelt überwiegend weniger komplizierte Zeichen als Diri. Es ist also gut vorstellbar, daß Idu in Assyrien nach den Vokabularen zu Sa und Sb und vor Diri gelehrt wurde, möglicherweise sogar vor den deutlich längeren Serien Ea und Aa, welche ja im Aufbau Idu gleichen, jedoch deutlich umfangreicher sind.

References Beckman, G., and Foster B. R. 1988 Assyrian Scholarly Textes in the Yale Babylonian Collection. Pp. 1–26 in A Scientific Humanist. Studies in Memory of Abraham Sachs. OPSNKF 9. Edited by E. Leichty, M. de J. Ellis, and P. Gerardi. Cavigneaux, A. 1980–83  Lexikalische Listen. RlA 6: 608–641. Civil, M., Green M. W., and Lambert W. G. 1970 Ea A=nâqu, Aa A=nâqu, with their Forerunners and Related Texts. MSL 14. Roma. Landsberger, B., and Gurney O. R. 1957–58 igi-duḫ-a=tāmartu, short version. AfO 18: 81–86. Weiershäuser, F. 2007 Beobachtungen zur Entwicklung des Korpus lexikalischer Texte in Assur. Pp. 349–365 in Studien zu Ritual und Sozialgeschichte im Alten Orient. Tartuer Symposien 1998–2004. BZAW 374. Edited by Th.R. Kämmerer . 2009 Die Online-Datenbank der lexikalischen Texte aus Assur. MDOG 141: 117–41.

The Rituals of Power: The Akkadian Tradition in Neo-Assyrian Policy Krzysztof Ulanowski Gdansk

Achieving power is the purpose of every ruler or ruling class in every period. There are different definitions of power. There is a complicated net of rituals that provide power. The history of ideology is similar to the history of literature—during different periods the style has changed but the motives have remained the same. Great works in human history were written over and over again, especially in times of crisis, referring to glorious times. One might say that they are timeless. Chronicles of ancient rulers, referring to Akkad, were written in around the fifteenth century, in roughly the same time that the Myth of Erra was written, showing Marduk conquering chaos. 1 The act of founding a temple, made at the time of their creation, can be observed from the times of the Sumerian kings of Kish until the end of Mesopotamian civilization. It was an orchestrated attempt to transcend time. The steles of the Assyrian kings have always had overtones of propaganda. In this way, they have outlived time, aspired to immortality. A good example of the importance of imitating the acts of the past is the case of Ashurbanipal who returned the image of the goddess Nanaia of Uruk from Elam, where it had been reportedly held for 1,635 years, in 646 b.c. 2 During the Akkadian period, depictions of religious themes were limited to the awareness of divine world. 3 In these depictions the tribute is submitted not to the gods but to the king. More and more often texts appear describing the events which become somewhat stereotypical. Assyrian art was developed much later in a different geographic and ethnic landscape but again returns to a secular presentation incomparable with any other epoch in the history of the ancient Near East. 4

The Case of Naram-Sin The Akkadian ruler Naram-Sin (2254–2218) strategically deployed stylistic forms associated with a heroic ideal. The relief ’s subject matter of victorious 1.  B.  André-Salvini, “La Conscience du Temps en Mesopotamie,” in Proche-Orient Ancien Temps Vécu, Temps Pensé. Actes de la Table Rounde du 15 novembre 1997 organisée par l’URA 1062 (ed. F. Briquel-Chatonnet, H. Lozachmeur; Paris: Jean Maisonneuve, 1998) 36. 2. S. Holloway, Aššur is King! Aššur is King! Religion in the Exercise of Power in the Neo-Assyrian Empire (Leiden: Brill, 2002) 283, 195. 3. H. Groenewegen-Frankfort, Arrest and Movement: An Essay on Space and Time in the Representational Art of the Ancient Near East (New York: Hacker Art, 1972) 166. 4.  Ibid., 169.

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triumph has been associated with Mesopotamian iconographic tradition. 5 Central to the subsequent historical imagining of Akkad is the originality of the Akkadian imperial accomplishment, in particular the unification of Sumer and Akkad and the establishment of charismatic kingship. 6 Akkad “became the vehicle of textual mediations on history, kingship and power.” 7 From the times of Sargon of Akkad, the ruler was not only “king of Kish” but the king titled himself the “king of Akkad,” the “king of four quarters.” 8 The use of the epithet: “king of the universe, without rival” can be noted from the kings of Akkad to the Neo-Asyrian rulers. 9 In later periods, there are many references to this tutelary: « Sholgi, le dieu de son pays, le fort, le roi d’Our, le roi de quatre régions, lorsqu’il eut ravagé le pays de Kimas et de Hourtoum, établit un fossé et en construisit la berge». 10 Shamshi-Adad V (824–811) assumed the title “king of Sumer and Akkad” in his own inscriptions 11 and was especially popular in the Neo-Assyrian period. 12 Esarhaddon called himself the king of Sumer and Akkad (šar māt Šumeri u Akkadi), a title used earlier by the III Dynasty of Ur (2112–2004), First Dynasty of Isin (2000–1800), Hammurapi, Tukulti Ninurta I (1244–1208), Tiglath-Pileser III (744–727) and Sargon II (721–705). Bearing this prestigious title referred to the rulers of Akkad, Ur and OB. 13 Esarhaddon is called: “Great king, mighty king, king of all, king of Assyria, governor of Babylon, king of Sumer and Akkad; true shepherd, favorite of the lord of lords (Marduk), pious prince, beloved of (the goddess) Sarpanitu the queen, goddess of all that is.” 14

Deification: The Means of Ideological Influence Naram-Sin on the stele from the Pir Hüssein and Ur III kings on seal images are clothed like the gods used to be. 15 The king’s attire on the Victory Stele is unique, first of all the king bears on his head a horned helmet like the gods the purpose of 5.  M. Feldman, “Darius I and the Heroes of Akkad: Affect and Agency in the Bisitun Relief,” in Ancient Near Eastern Art in Context: Studies in Honor of Irene J. Winter by Her Students (ed. J. Cheng and M. Feldman; Leiden: Brill, 2007) 266. 6.  Ibid., 278. 7.  P. Michałowski, “Memory and Deed: The Historiography of the Political Expansion of the Akkad State,” in Akkad: The First World Empire: Structure, Ideology, Traditions (ed. M. Liverani; Padova: Sargon, 1993) 89. 8. T. Potts, The Archeology of Elam (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999) 107. 9.  K. Radner, “Assyrian and Non-Assyrian Kingship in the First Millennium bc,” in Concepts of Kingship in Antiquity. Proceedings of the European Science Foundation Exploratory Workshop held in Padova, November 28th–December 1st, 2007 (ed. G. Lanfranchi and R. Rollinger; Padova: Sargon, 2010) 28. 10. E.  Sollberger, J.  Kupper, Inscriptions royales sumériennes et akkadiennes (Paris: Cerf, 1971) 143. 11. Holloway, Aššur. . . , 159. 12.  The case of king’s tutelary is thoroughly explained by B. Oded, War, Peace and Empire: Justification for War in Assyrian Royal Inscriptions (Wiesbaden: Reichert, 1992). 13. B. Porter, Images, Power, Politics, Figurative Aspects of Esarhaddon’s Babylonian Policy (Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society, 1993) 79. 14.  Bab. A, Ep. I. See Porter,“Images. . . ,” 95–96, comp. 104 i 1–12, in: E. Leichty, The Royal Inscriptions of Esarhaddon, King of Assyria (680–669 bc) (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2011) 194. 15.  C. Suter, “Between Human and Divine: High Priestesses in Images from the Akkad to the IsinLarsa Period,” (Ancient Near Eastern Art in Context, ed. J. Cheng and M. Feldman) 330.

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which was to emphasize divine status. The iconography of the Neo-Assyrian pantheon is strikingly unambiguous. The gods, male and female, almost always wear a horned polos. 16 Esarhaddon, attired in his traditional royal garments, performing the required royal ritual, addressed by the traditional titles and epithets of a ruler, is presented not only as an individual ruler but also as a personification of the state’s ideal of kingship and as a living emblem of the state. 17 In contrast to the Sumerian pattern, on the Victory Stele of Naram-Sin, it is not a god who is victorious, but the king himself (with the help of gods). Naram-Sin was not only the first Mesopotamian king 18 who deified himself but he went further in the representation of his deification than his successors for which posterity branded him as the most calamitous king in Mesopotamian history. He is depicted not only with a horned helmet but also with a heroized body, enthroned on a par with Ish­ tar. 19 The king’s transfiguration into a god was also clearly indicated by the divine determinative placed before his name in all of inscriptions about him. One can read about his deification in an inscription on the base of a statue from Basetki: “he was victorious in nine battles in one year, and the kings whom they (the rebels[?]) had raised (against him), he captured. In view of the fact that he protected the foundations of his city from danger, (the citizens of) his city requested from Ashtar in Eanna, Enlil in Nippur, Dagan in Tuttul, Ninqursag in Kesh, Ea in Eridu, Sin in Ur, Shamash in Sippar, (and) Nergal in Kutha, that (Naram-Sin) be (made) the god of their city, and they built within Akkad (Agade) a temple (dedicated) to him. . . .” 20 Naram-Sin’s deification could have had a number of reasons. It is difficult to assess which one of them was the most important. It might have been an attempt to integrate the Akkadian Empire by proclaiming the ruler a patron deity of the whole Empire. The deification could be seen as an attempt to support royal authority. Naram-Sin’s deification brought great prestige to the king and his residence, the city of Agade. This city didn’t have a long tradition, as for example Eridu or Uruk. The deification could have been an attempt to create an opposition to the influence of the temples, mainly to the influence of Enlil’s temple at Nippur. All of these reasons had strictly ideological purposes, namely to use religion as a tool for becoming more powerful. If one compares the deification of Naram-Sin and of later kings, one can identify interesting similarities. The first living Sumerian king to be deified, Shulgi (2094–2047), received the title “strong god of his land.” That is very similar to the title “strong god of Akkade” used by Naram-Sin. As Naram-Sin allegedly had his temple in Agade, so also one of Shulgi’s descendents, Shu-Sin had his own temple at Eshnunna. 21 In mythical times there might have existed kings who were deified after their death (Lugalbanda, Gilgamesh). Naram-Sin’s deification is different. He was deified 16. Holloway, Aššur. . . , 183–4. 17. Porter, Images. . . , 77. 18.  Naram-Sin’s son, Šar-kali-šarri, was also deified. 19.  I. Winter, “Sex, Rhetoric, and the Public Monument: The Alluring Body of Naram-Sin of Agade,” in Sexuality in Ancient Art: Near East, Egypt, Greece, and Italy (ed. N. Kampen; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996) fig. 1–3. 20. D. Frayne, Sargonic and Gutian Periods (2334–2113 bc) (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1993) 113–14. 21.  P. Král, “Naram-Sin’s Deification,” in Shepherds of the Black-Headed People: The Royal Office vis-à-vis Godhead in Ancient Mesopotamia (ed. K. Šašková, L. Pecha, and P. Charvát; Plzen: Západoceská univerzita, 2010) 79.

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during his lifetime and he also placed almost no emphasis on divine parents. We can find only one mention in an inscription that Naram-Sin dedicated an image of himself to the god Enlil, “his father.” 22 The kings of the Middle-Assyrian and Neo-Assyrian period, with full awareness, emphasized the closeness of their relationship to the gods. One reason was to show that they were chosen by the gods. Enlil might have treated the king TukultiNinurta (1243–1207) as his own son: Enlil exalted him as if he (Enlil) were his (Tukulti-Ninurta’s) Own father, right after his firstborn son! Precious is he in (Enlil’s) family, for where there is Competition, he has of him protection. No one of all kings was ever rival to him. 23

The kings of Assyria have a right to feel secure, at least until a time they properly worship their gods. A perfect example is contained in the Esarhaddon and Ishtar: Fear not, O king! I have taken you in trust, I did not disappoint you. I made [your] trust, I did not let [you] come to shame. I brought you over the river in good order(?). O Esarhaddon, legitimate heir of Ninlil (. . .), I will finish off your enemies with my own hands (. . .) In the City I give you long days of eternal years, O Esarhaddon, in Arbela, I am your good shield. 24

There is a close parallel with the much older oracle texts from the Mari period: Thus says Ishtar of Ninet: [“W]ith my strong weapons I will stand by you.” 25

In any case, none of the Assyrian rulers officially declared themselves to be a god. No prayers are to be found directed to mortal kings, only petitions for favors and clemency. Neither were their names prefixed with the dingir determinative nor were temples built for them. While in the Neo-Assyrian period the king does not claim to be a god, he is not averse to claim to having been divinely shaped, to being seen as the very likeness of a god. 26 In the depiction of kings there is a noticeable removal of protective divinities from the proximity of the king on Assyrian wall reliefs, leaving them as the sole elevated figure within the composition and granting them roles previously reserved for these secondary divinities. Another manner in which the king was elevated and was represented as if he were a god was by showing him enthroned while facing to the left—a stance usually reserved for the representation of the major Mesopotamian deities—as is shown in some depictions of Sennacherib. The likeness in depiction between king and god could not be accidental and serves to elevate the former. 27 22.  Ibid., 83. 23.  “Tukulti-Ninurta Epic, 67–70,” in B.  Foster, From Distant Days: Myths, Tales, and Poetry of Ancient Mesopotamia (Bethesda: CDL Press, 1995), 181. 24.  “Esarhaddon and Ishtar,” in Foster, From Distant. . . , 218. 25. 31.A.2666 = AEM 1/1, 193. 16–18: another translation: The Mari Prophetic Texts in Transliteration and English Translation, in: J. J. M. Roberts, The Bible and the Ancient Near East. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2002, p. 217. 26.  T. Ornan, “The Godlike Semblance of a King: the Case of Sennacherib’s Rock Reliefs,” in Ancient Near East in Context, 161. 27.  Ibid., 162.

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There was a Mesopotamian practice of installing divinized images of kings in temples under their control. 28 The erection of royal statues in temples outside the ruler’s city state or territorial nation was used by the Ur III rulers Shu-Sin in Girsu, Ur and Eshnunna. 29 Shalmaneser III established many monuments in subjugated cities. 30 In such places, the Assyrian royal image was placed together with images or symbols of local gods in the temples. The Assyrian king was thus associated with every act of worship performed in the sanctuary, both as an earthly representative of Assyrian and local gods and as a participant in every favor they might vouchsafe to grant. 31 The monuments in temples became a regular part of rituals. 32 The most securely contextualized monument comes from the site of Tell el-Rimah, where the royal stele stood in the temple’s inner cella, right next to the cult platform. There, oriented so that the king’s gesture pointed directly toward the cult statue, the stele may have functioned as a votive offering to the deity, to stand in perpetual supplication for the king. An equally plausible interpretation is that because the king’s image was visible to the temple visitors, it may have also received offerings itself. Another example is the Great Monolith of Ashurnasirpal II, discovered in the Ninurta Temple at Nimrud. Two factors suggest that the monument may have served as a cult object: its presumed original location in the temple. Placed next to a doorway leading into the temple cella, the king’s figure is orientated so that it points toward the cella, and therefore points toward the cult image itself. 33 From the archaic period, Mesopotamia had its own tradition of divine homage to rulers. Offerings were made to statues of both kings and their queens in Early Dynastic Lagash. 34 As I mentioned above, Naram-Sin has his own temple in the capital of Agade. Sacrifices were performed before images of the great Akkadian kings during the Ur III Dynasty. The Ur III rulers themselves received a variety of divine ministrations. In the second millennium royal images of the living kings Siniddinam, Sin-eribam and Samsu-iluna were installed in temples at Larsa, Nippur, Ur and Babylon. 35 There was a long history of making divine and royal statues. 36 The term ṣalmu “image” is attested either alone or with attributes: ṣalam šarrūtīya (šurbâ/mukīn šumīya) “a (splendid) royal image of myself (establishing my name)” etc. 37 It is worth noting the performance of ritual on statues. In several cases the viewer is asked to perform rituals on the monument, including washing the monument with water, anointing it with oil, and performing sacrifices. While the exact purpose of 28. Holloway, Aššur. . . , 198. 29.  Ibid., 171, 276. 30. S. Yamada, The Construction of the Assyrian Empire: A Historical Study of the Inscriptions of Shalmaneser III (859–824 bc) Relating to His Campaigns to the West (Leiden: Brill, 2000) 295. 31.  Ibid., 296. 32.  A. Shafer, “Assyrian Royal Monuments on the Periphery: Ritual and the Making of Imperial Space,” in Ancient Near East in Context, 145. 33.  Ibid., 146. 34. Holloway, Aššur. . . , 179. 35.  Ibid., 180. 36.  Inscriptions engraved on monuments with few exceptions bear a typological definition of the contents of the inscription: (1) the praise of the god Ashur (tanitti/tanatti Aššur bēli rabî bēlīya) and (2) the king heroic, victorious or mighty deeds (ilkakāt/allakāt qurdīya; epšēt tanittīya/ tašnintīya; līt/tanatti kiššutīya). 37. Yamada, The Construction. . . , 291.

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the rituals is never made explicit, clearly they are meant to propitiate the deities in some way. 38 Similar rituals are also applicable to royal statues. On the Balawat Bronze Bands we can see the king and his officials performing such a ritual. 39 All of them bear an image of a king who was depicted in a typical gesture of communication with the gods. 40 Mesopotamian kings were objects of worship in temples, and Neo-Assyrian kings simply continued this tradition. Statues of Esarhaddon and two crown princes made of gold and other precious materials were designed under the financial and contentious scrutiny of the king himself and his technical advisers. Pairs of such statues were installed in certain Assyrian temples as well as those in the cosmopolitan North Mesopotamian temple of Sin of Harran, Esagila of Babylon, Ezida of Borsippa. 41 Deified royal images were listed together with the gods of Kalhu and Arbaʾil. An inventory of Assyrian cult objects enumerates divinized silver royal images in six different temples. 42 In a hymn composed for the coronation of Ashurbanipal, he is equated with the sun(-god) Shamash. 43 One might infer that the statues were treated as divine from further evidences, namely that oaths were sworn before them. In the ancient Near East, oaths were taken before various symbols of the gods. However, the royal image was also occasionally involved in such ceremonies. One of the seventh-century legal documents from the Assyrian province of Guzana shows that a contract was made before a royal image (ṣalam šarr) as well as the gods Nabu and Shamash, i.e. , their status and symbols, as witnesses. Similarly Esarhaddon’s Succession Treaty was sworn before the images (ṣalmu) of Esarhaddon and of Ashurbanipal, alongside the god Ashur and other great gods. 44 Although divine, human-shaped deities are usually absent from Assyrian palatial sculpted decoration, a conscious parallelism can be traced between divine and royal representations. This is manifested on the southern wall of throne-room B in the Northwest Palace of Ashurnasirpal II, where the figures of Ashur and the king are rendered with a great deal of resemblance except for scale—interestingly, the king is much larger than the god. Ashurnasirpal was the first king since Naram-Sin to reuse the term tamšīlu, meaning semblance, which implies shared physical and possibly other properties between god and king, and the appearance of this term belongs among the characteristics of imperialistic propaganda. The comparison between the physical likeness of god and king is insinuated in Ashurnasirpal’s report about the installation of the royal image of Ninurta: “I created my royal monument with a likeness of my countenance of red gold (and) sparkling stones (and) stationed (it) before the god Ninurta my lord.” The red golden face of the king highlights the resemblance between god and king since a “red face” (zīmēšu ruššûti) was considered an exclusively divine attribute.” 45 The other example is the rock relief, the Bavian 38. Shafer, Assyrian. . . , 147. 39.  Ibid.,158. Balawat Gate detail of Shalmaneser III and his entourage sacrificing before his own stele. 40. Yamada, The Construction. . . , 292. 41. Holloway, Aššur. . . , 184. 42.  Ibid., 186–87. 43.  I. Winter, “Touched by the Gods: Visual Evidence for the Divine Status of Rulers in the Ancient Near East,” in Religion and Power: Divine Kingship in the Ancient World and Beyond (ed. N.  Brisch; Chicago: The Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago, 2008) 85. 44. Yamada, The Construction. . . , 296–97. 45. Ornan, The Godlike. . . , 169–70.

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Inscription depicting Sennacherib gesturing in front of human-shaped deities. 46 It is the conscious choice of Sennacherib to represent himself alongside human-shaped deities in order to demonstrate his divine likeness. Two separate images probably existed there, one of Ashur and one of Sennacherib, that were put side by side: “The image of Ashur who goes into the midst of Tiamat for battle, the image of Sennacherib, king of Assyria.” The text from the royal inscription K 1356 communicates the notion of the equation of god and king. Ashur fighting Tiamat was an allusion and metaphorical royal propaganda adopted during Sennacherib’s reign which used the cause of the battle of Halule in 691, where poetic language turns the earthly clash between Assyria and the enemies into a divine combat between a supernatural hero and his monstrous rivals. 47 According to S.  Holloway, the Neo-Assyrian royal tutelary, narrative inscriptions, astrological prognostications and correspondence reflect the theme of the unique proximity of the king to the divine realm and extol his god-like powers. The gods were summoned prenatally to kingship, suckled by goddesses. Kings like the gods strode into battle surrounded by the melammu, a radiant, terrifying nimbus devastating to foes, occasionally represented by a halo of stars surrounding deities in glyptic art, and kings embodied godlike wisdom and could be characterized as the very image of the gods. 48 It is worth citing some examples: “You, O king of the world are an image of Marduk,” “what the king, my lord, said is as perfect as (the word) of the god,” “the king is the mirror image of god,” “the king is the image (ṣalmu) of Bel,” “the king is the image (ṣalmu) of Shamash.” 49 The construction of royal monuments in the course of a kings’ expeditions is a phenomenon familiar from the early periods of Mesopotamian history. 50 It is connected with ritual of taking possession of the divine space of empire. 51 The earliest example of such a commemorative act goes back to Sargon of Akkad, who is said in a later chronicle to have placed his images (ṣalmēšu) “in the west.” In the nineteenth century Yahdun-Lim, king of Mari, is reported in his Foundation Inscription to have entered a mountain near the Mediterranean and erected a stele. Shortly afterwards in the same century, Shamshi-Adad I is also known to have set up an inscribed stele (narû) in the land of Lebanon. From the twelfth century onwards, several Assyrian kings, predecessors of Shalmaneser III, are reported to have set up their monuments in the course of their campaigns, i.e. Tiglath-pileser I (1115–1076), Ashurbel-kala (1074–1056), Tukulti-Ninurta II (891–884) and Ashurnasirpal (884–859). 52 According to centuries-old tradition, Assyrian kings built and refurbished temples. Kings were treated as founders and protectors of the civilization’s achievements. Just like other rulers Naram-Sin also accomplished a number of building projects. While in Assyrian iconography the king was presented both as a military leader and builder, in Babylon he was depicted only as a builder. It was a Sumerian 46.  Ibid., 164. 47.  Ibid., 170–71. 48. Holloway, Aššur. . . , 181. 49.  Ibid., 182. 50. Yamada, The Construction. . . , 273. 51.  The monuments with a royal image set up in a conspicuous geographical location appear to have been aimed at commemorating the king’s contact with the quasi-divine landmark symbolizing the world border. The Mediterranean Sea, Lake Urmia, Mts. Amanus, Lebanon and the Anatolia mountains were the remotest places which the Assyrian kings had reached. 52. Yamada, The Construction. . . , 274

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heritage, where the king’s task was to build. The Sumerian ruler Ur-Nanshe, after the collapse of the Akkadian dynasty, began by rebuilding of the temple of Enlil and Ninlil at Nippur and temples at Ur, Uruk, Larsa, Kish. Isme-Dagan did the very same after the fall of the III Dynasty of Ur, and later Hammurabi. Agum-kakrime, founder of the Kasitie dynasty (ca. 1600), rebuilt Esagila and brought the statue of Marduk that enabled him to be recognized as the legitimate ruler of Babylon. 53 The basket-bearing ritual so common in the south is confirmed only in one text, an inscription from the times of Gudea of Lagash (ca. 2130), and iconographic evidence, the oldest from the times of Ur-Nanshe (2500). 54 In the text, Gudea after a night of vigil and prayer, begins the building rituals by entering the temple area carrying a “holy basket” on his head, accompanied by various gods. Esarhaddon bore the basket for rebuilding the temples of gods and goddesses for their glory and to obtain divine favor. 55 While there is no archeological proof, royal inscriptions and correspondence and the Babylonian Chronicle affirm that Esarhaddon intended to restore the ancient imperial city of Agade, returning its gods from Elam in 674. Esar­haddon confirmed the imperial traditions of Mesopotamia by rebuilding Esagila, Etemenanki, the Nabu ša harê temple, and temples of Agade and Nippur. In this case he ratifies his own dynastic sovereignty, using no weapons but rather the arts of mudbrick masonry and consummate public works diplomacy to secure his reputation as the builder king. 56

Sexual Dimension: Ideological Dimension Sexuality was inextricably linked to potency, potency to male vigor, and male vigor to authority and dominance. I. Winter argues, that the style of sexuality and allure serve as a potent vehicle for identifying Naram-Sin with the heroic ideal. 57 The depiction of Naram-Sin is linked with Akkadian terms which can be attributed directly or indirectly to sexuality: banu, (well-formed), damqu (auspicious/good), bastu (life force, vigor, vitality), kuzbu (abundance, delight, attractiveness, voluptuousness). These features, from ideally sculpted statues are connected to images of heroes. Gilgamesh is described as “having (lit. bearing) vitality.” Evidence for this vitality is likewise inscribed in/on the body. An inverse illustration may be found in the account of the Assyrian king Sennacherib, who, in cutting off his enemies’ beards, robbing them of their bastu. Men’s beards—an important secondary sexual characteristic—signify fully developed manhood. Naram-Sin’s beard is the most abundant on the stele. Vitality is therefore conflated with masculinity, and is articulated visually through facial hair, along with breadth of chest and virile stance. Kuzbu is used to refer directly to sexuality, as in the first tablet of the Gilgamesh Epic, where the harlot is instructed to expose herself to Enkidu: “expose your nakedness, so that he can take (in) your kuzbu.” In another reference to Gilgamesh “we are told that he, too, is adorned with kuzbu: zuʾuna kuzba kalu zumrisu.” This has been variously translated: “His whole body is covered with attractiveness.” 58 53. Porter, Images. . . , 45. 54.  Ibid., 82. Ashurbanipal with basket on his head (BM 90865). 55.  Ibid., 83ff. 56. Holloway, Aššur. . . , 371–72. 57. Feldman, Darius I. . . , 273. 58. Winter, Sex. . . , 11–14.

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Irene Winter points out that aspects of physical representation in sculpture are paralleled by textual metaphorical descriptions of the ruler in the Sumerian language. She finds parallels between the emphatic representation of parts of the body, such as musculature of the biceps, and the Sumerian expression of the strong arm of the ruler. She notes that the image of Naram-Sin was an image of divine kingship, portrayed not simply by the iconographic device of the horned crown but also by a number of visual details of clothing and bodily ideals all of which can be read as the image of the King. 59 Akkadian sculpted monuments stress a new conception of kingship as not only a centralized authority entrenched in a single state (hegemony over Akkad and Sumer) but as an ontological category in the world order. Under the Akkadian dynasty, the body of the ruler was presented as alluring, virile, and potent, the male conqueror who imposes his will on the world through geographic expansion and political control. 60 The Assyrian steles have the same features: an image of a king, divine emblems, and sent the message that the central agent in Assyria’s growth and power was the king. They depicted not only an image of the king but the complex notion of “kingship,” as the Assyrian term ṣalam šarrūtija (image of my kingship) implies. 61 The monuments communicate the notion of ideal Assyrian kingship. The king’s physical fitness to rule and potential for action are indicated by his upright and alert stance, detailed musculature, and grounded, yet forward-moving feet. 62 In the case of the Neo-Assyrian monuments program sexual allure plays a major role as an element of power. The Neo-Assyrian commemorative monuments delineated public spaces in Assyrian cities and marked the landscape with a calculated (re)presentation of royal and religious imagery. The carving of display monuments were culminating moments in the course of the king’s expedition. The Assyrian reliefs are deliberate and concerted programs of ideologically motivated visual statements. 63 Neo-Assyrian kings were anxious to prove their own worthiness and surpass the achievements of their predecessors. Thus each new palace contained its own corpus of personal propaganda. 64 It is clear that Akkadian monuments and inscriptions accessible in temple courtyards, retained a powerful hold on later Mesopotamian imagination. 65 The Assyrian tradition established mythological-historical links to the Akkadian dynasty. Shamshi-Adad I (1813–1781), who derived his own legitimation from the memory of Akkad. He rebuilt a temple of Ishtar at Nineveh which had been erected originally by the Akkadian ruler Manishtushu (2276–2261). Shamshi-Adad I was heir to the diplomatic arts of the first Akkadian empire, and saw fit to portray himself as a protector and sponsor of select major cults under his rulership (Dagan of Terqua, Addu of Arapha, Itur-Mer of Mari). Several of the Assyrian kings took names of Sargon and Naram-Sin, for example Sargon II (721–705). Particularly relevant is 59. Z.  Bahrani, Rituals of War: The Body and Violence in Mesopotamia (New York: Zone Books, 2008) 98. 60.  Ibid., 104. 61. Shafer, Assyrian. . . , 136. 62.  Ibid., 137. 63.  J. Aker, “Workmanship as Ideological Tool in the Monumental Hunt Reliefs of Assurbanipal,” in Ancient Near East in Context, 233. 64.  S. Reed, “Blurring the Edges: A Reconsideration of the Treatment of Enemies in Ashurbanipal’s Reliefs,” in Ancient Near East in Context, 105. 65. M. Feldman, Darius I. . . , 275.

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Sargon II’s implementation in his palace decoration at Khorosbad of both thematic and stylistic quotations of the Akkadian period. 66

Violence as a Political Tool One way of showing royal power was through violence and cruelty towards opponents. The question is, is it possible to merge sexual allure with violence? The gods trace the “way of cruelty/justice”; there is a known reference to the Erra Epic and opening of the Gates of the Netherworld to allow a Great Flood of nomads to slaughter good and bad alike, again with cult centers as the prime targets. 67 Ashur, in response to crimes committed by the people, not only kills soldiers, but also women and children. 68 The Akkadian kings sought to establish their physical presence and dominance by divinizing the body of the ruler. 69 One can see the emblems of Shamash and Ishtar, but he is presented as a god. 70 The enemy in Mesopotamian art has been shown with broken arms, which demonstrates defeat and surrender. The Akkadians are dressed like real soldiers, the Lullubi in the leathers as barbarians. They are downtrodden by the king and depicted as naked, vulnerable and defeated. Nudity was used as a device in the narrative of death in an earlier stele, from Tello (Girsu), attributed to the reign of the Akkadian ruler Rimush (2278–2270). 71 Sargon the Great defined war and violence as a means of establishing order in the new empire and did not hesitate to torture Lugalzagesi in the front of Enlil’s temple at Nippur. 72 Shadun-laba reports(in a letter found at Mari) that he cut off the head of Ishme-Addu. 73 The Assyrians clearly preferred an aesthetic of violence, 74 in which enemies were depicted as enduring the most gruesome sorts of bodily torture. Assyrian war is infused with ideology. 75 The mutilation of the monuments could be treated as a material sign of immaterial power. Mutilation of statues was equated with the pain inflicted on living enemies. Ashurbanipal describes how he deals with the statue of an enemy: “The statue of Hallusu, King of Elam, the one who plotted evil against Assyria and engaged in hostilities against Sennacherib, King of Assyria, my grandfather, his tongue, which had been slandering, I cut off, his lips, which had spoken insolence, I pierced, his hands, which had grasped the bow against Assyria, 66.  Ibid., 279. 67. See J.  Scurlock, “Prophecy as a Form of Divination; Divination as a Form of Prophecy,” in: A. Annus (ed.), Divination and Interpretation of Signs in the Ancient World (Chicago, 2010) 294. 68.  See “Tiglath–Pileser and the Beasts,” 25–27, in B. Foster, From Distant. . . , 206. 69. M. Feldman, Darius I. . . , 274. 70. Bahrani, Rituals. . . , 110. 71.  Ibid., 112. 72.  M. Heinz, “Sargon of Akkad: Rebel and Usurper in Kish,” in Presentations of Political Power: Case Histories from Times of Change and Dissolving Order in the Ancient Near East (ed. M. Heinz and M. Feldman; Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2007) 81. 73.  ARM 2 33 r. 5′–7′. See S. W. Cole, “The Destruction of Orchards in Assyrian Warfare,” in S. Parpola and R. M. Whiting (eds.), Assyria 1995: Proceedings of the 10th Anniversary Symposium of the NeoAssyrian Text Corpus Project Helsinki, September 7–11, 1995 (Helsinki, 1995) 31. 74.  About esthetics of violence, see Cynthia R. Chapman, “Sculpted Warriors: Sexuality and the Sacred in the Depiction of Warfare in the Assyrian Palace Reliefs and in Ezekiel 23:14–17*,” in The Aesthetics of Violence in the Prophets, ed. Julia M. O’Brien and Chris Franke (London: T. & T. Clark, 2010) 2–8. 75. Bahrani, Rituals. . . , 24.

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I chopped off.” 76 The Elamites, after the conquest of Babylon in 1155 b.c., took the statues, mutilated them, removed the Akkadian inscriptions and added their own to the glory of their god Inshushinak. The same happened in the days of Esarhaddon with the Egyptian monuments, they were exposed to public view, at the city gates, both the parts of statues and corpses of killed enemies were presented. The boundary between the body and its representation was very blurry. 77 The depiction of this way of thinking is confirmed in the picture, in which soldiers of Sargon II dismember a statue during the sack of the Muşaşir temple. 78 Applying this logic, torture was understood as a sign of power. Religion was not separate from the ideology of sovereignty. Expansion and physical violence against the bodies of the enemy were just activities approved by the gods, although never directly ordered by them. Annals of the Assyrian often speaks of inflicting torture and painful death, and not just individuals. Killing 300 soldiers and mounting their heads on spears in front of a city—is only one example. 79 Tiglath-pileser III claims: “I impaled his foremost men alive [on] stakes and made his land watch.” 80 Ashurbanipal during his campaign in Egypt hung up the bodies of enemies on stakes and flayed their skins and clad the city wall. 81 In his article, L. Nigro shows how important the visual role was and ideological meaning of presenting the enemies in the royal Akkadian reliefs. 82 The same is valid for Assyrian art. The enemy’s decapitation and exposure to an overview of other enemies is both a symbol and an act of power. One of the reliefs shows how the captured Elamites are condemned to the most cruel act of mental torture. The brothers Nabu-na’id and Bel-etir are compelled to commit sacrilege by publicly grinding up the bones of their father, while Nabu-qate-sabat must wear the severed head of his brother around his neck. 83 An excellent illustration of this thesis is the head of the Elamite king, truncated after the battle of Til-Tuba (653). During the Elamite campaigns Ashurbanipal announces: “Teumman, king of Elam, who was wounded in the great battle, and Tammaritu, his oldest son, who held him by the hand, fled to save their lives and hid themselves in the woods. With the aid of Ashur and Ishtar, I slew them and cut off their heads, one in front of the other.” 84 The head of the Elamite king Teumman was truncated in order to fulfill the oracle. 85 As a result, on the reliefs of the palace one could see Ashurbanipal lying on the cline, from which the stock impaled head of the 76.  Ibid., 164. 77.  Ibid., 173–74. 78.  The Assyrian sack of the city of Muşaşir and of its temple dedicated to the god Haldi, as shown on a relief from the wall decoration of Sargon’s palace in Dur-Šarruken (room 13, slab 3). Adapted from P. Botta and E. Flandin, Ninive (vol. 2; Paris, 1850) pl. 140, XIII, 3; W. Mayer, Assyrien und Urartu I. Der achte Feldzug Sargons II. Im Jahr 714v. Chr. (Münster: Ugarit-Verlag, 2013), figs. 5–7. 79. Yamada, The Construction. . . , 89. 80.  B. Strawn, “Tiglath-pileser III,” in The Ancient Near East (ed. M. Chavalas; Oxford: Blackwell, 2006) 333. 81. S.  Melville, “Ashurbanipal,” in The Ancient Near East (ed. M.  Chavalas; Oxford: Blackwell, 2006) 364. 82.  L. Nigro, “Visual Role and Ideological Meaning of the Enemies in the Royal Akkadian Relief,” in Intellectual Life of the Ancient Near East: Papers Presented at the 43a Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale (ed. J. Prosecky; Prague, 1998). 83. Bahrani, Rituals. . . , 30, fig. 1.5; 155; 156, fig. 5.5; 157, fig. 5.6. 84.  Ibid., 39, fig. 1.8; Melville, “Ashurbanipal,” 365–67. 85. A.  Piepkorn, Historical Prism Inscriptions of Ashurbanipal (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1933) 60–65.

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Elamite ruler is visible. 86 The death of the king in the Assyrian interpretation is an absolutely extraordinary issue, it marked a lack of harmony in the world.

Adoption of Mythological Heritage The Victory Stele reproduced scenes from mythological combat among the gods. In these battles, the victorious gods hurl the vanquished into the depths of the mountain sides, an action that symbolizes casting them into the netherworld (usually Nergal—tramples on the body of the dead). The mythological and historical depictions are merged into one vision, but the victory is portrayed as a human achievement, unlike in earlier monuments, such as the stele of Eannatum of Lagash, in which the god is represented as an active participant in the battle. 87 This motive is frequently used by later rulers. 88 The fusion of hero and ruler into a new royal body occurs at the exact historical moment, when for the first time, the king is elevated to divine status. In addition, the innovation of a perfect “heroic” body for the ruler, coming as a visual quote from a pictorial tradition hitherto reserved for a semi divine hero, also represents a conscious strategy of representation. The element of sexual allure connected with male power and perfection in the king’s body is founded on a relationship between the youthful and alluring Gilgamesh, king of Uruk, and Naram-Sin, king of Agade. Not only is there a parallelism in attributes, but both rulers also shared a rhetorical ascription of divine status. The two kings thus participate—verbally for the one, visually for the other—in virtually identical representational practices. 89 A long-standing Mesopotamian tradition of rhetorical statements that the gods are responsible for shaping the royal body was connected with an explicit association of the ruler with the legendary hero Gilgamesh, who was himself a semi divine king. The Sumerian poems portray Gilgamesh after his death as a minor god. 90 The Mesopotamian rulers make use of epithets that emphasize the king’s masculinity and valiance—for example, zikani qardu, heroic male, or etlu qardu, heroic (male) youth. It is a way of showing that the royal body is not merely the product of good breeding and/or physical training. It may be inferred from a text of the Assyrian ruler, Adad-narari II (911–891), which, in the voice of the king, relates that the gods “altered my stature to lordly stature, . . . made perfect my features and filled my lordly body with wisdom . . . [and] surrounded my head with the aura of rulership.” 91 The Neo-Assyrian glyptic represents most of all the scenes of the killing of Humbaba and the Bull of Heaven. 92 With an affinity for other representations of 86. Yamada, The Construction. . . , 22, fig. 1.1. 87. Bahrani, Rituals. . . , 114. 88. An Akkadian victory stele showing Rimush (ca. 2300–2250, Louvre Museum, AO 2678) and Shamshi Adad I victory stele (Louvre Museum, AO 2776). 89. Winter, Sex. . . , 17. For Naram-Sin to identify himself with the epic hero on his own victor’s stele would have served the same rhetorical ends as the divine Augustus identifying himself with Alexander or the Greek gods. 90.  M-A. Ataç, “Representations and Resonances of Gilgamesh in Neo-Assyrian Art,” in Gilgamesch. Ikonographie eines Helden. Gilgamesh: Epic and Iconography (ed. H. Steymans; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2010) 277. 91.  A.0.99.2, ii, 6–7, in: A. K. Grayson, Assyrian Rulers of the Early First Millennium bc I (1114–859 bc) (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1991) 147. 92.  Cylinder seal—the killing of the Bull of Heaven (London, British Museum, BM 89435), the NeoAssyrian Cylinder Seal (The Schøyen Collection MS 1989), king Ashurnasirpal stabs a bull between its horns (London, BM, ANE 124532).

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mythological conflict and scenes of the Neo-Assyrian royal hunt, these two heroic episodes may be thought to signal Gilgamesh’s capacity to vanquish death, and hence to refer to notions of the priesthood, šangûtu, of the Assyrian king. 93 The lion hunt was enacted not only as a parallel of war. 94 The hunt was a royal activity that epitomized the power of the ruler—no one can control the powerful creatures but the ruler who is thus represented as the maintainer of order against the forces of chaos. Once tamed by the royal hunter, this ferocious beast must have been conceived as protective of him, thereby fit to decorate his royal abode. 95 E. Weissert pointed out between the epigraph of the victorious king celebrating and sacrificing the head of Teumman and an epigraph on a lion hunt relief showing the king pouring wine over a lion he has slain. This similarity is shown as well in treating Dunanu. In this case on the epigraph and on a lion hunt relief, the king is depicted holding a bow over a lion he has killed. 96 There is the Priest-King Stele of the forth millennium BC (ca. 3200) from Uruk. The priest-king is depicted in the lion hunt. 97 Scenes of the royal hunt, especially of Ashurnasirpal II, have a mythological association with both Gilgamesh and Ninurta’s exploits. 98 The bull-hunt slab from the throne-room of the North-West Palace at Nimrud, shows Ashurnasirpal II killing “a bull holding one of the animal’s horns in one hand and by thrusting a sword into the bull’s neck behind the horns. . ..” 99 This is exactly how Gilgamesh kills the bull of heaven. In some interpretations the god represented on this slab is associated with Ninutra, to whom Ashurnasirpal gives special invocation. 100 The idea of defeating death or overcoming mortality may also be one of the messages embedded in the Assyrian royal hunt, associated with the concept of priesthood, understood not only as professional priestly duties performed on a routine basis, but as the ideal office in which the king represents divinity on earth. The royal hunt inscriptions of the Assyrians kings indicate how Ninurta 101 and Nergal, 102 the two heroic warlike deities, who love the Assyrian king’s priesthood, gave him animals of the wilderness to hunt. 103 In the text describing the departure of the Assyrian king to battle, it is written: “The king who stands in the chariot is the warrior king, the lord (god) Ninurta.” 104 93. Ataç, Representations. . . , 261, 263. 94. Bahrani, Rituals... , 50. 95.  I. Ziffer, “A Note on the Nahal Mishmar ‘Crowns’ ” in Ancient Near East in Context, 51. 96.  J. M. Russell, The Writing on the Wall: Studies in the Architectural Context of Late Assyrian Palace Inscriptions (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1999), p. 161; 14 (Text A), p. 162; 21 (Texts A, G); E. Weissert, “Royal Hunt and Royal Triumph in a Prism Fragment of Ashurbanipal (85-5-22, 2),” in Assyria 1995, 341–45. 97. Bahrani, Rituals. . . , 35. 98. Ataç, Representations. . . , 272. Relief panel depicting Ninurta chasing Anzu or Asakku from the Ninurta Temple of Ashurnasirpal II at Nimrud (London, British Museum, Nimrud Gallery no. 28–29). 99. Ataç, Representations. . . , 273, fig. 3. 100.  P. Albenda, “Ashurnasirpal II Lion Hunt Relief BM124534,” JNES 31 (1972) 176. 101.  Ninurta played an important role in oracles which spoke of ensuring the reign of the king and his successors. See 001 (vi 21), 002 (ii 11) in S. Parpola, Assyrian Prophecies (Helsinki: State Archives of Assyria, 1997). 102. Naram-Sin treated Nergal with a special reverence because he was the god of the totality and he as king was also the king of totality (of the inhabited countries). See J. Glassner, Mesopotamian Chronicles (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2004), 47. 103. Ataç, Representations. . . , 274. 104. A. Livingstone, Court Poetry and Literary Miscellanea (Helsinki: Helsinki University Press, 1989) 100–102.

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Conclusions The large degree of convergence of both major ideological themes and figural representations in Akkadian and Neo-Assyrian heritage is striking. From the 8th century on, the dynasty of Akkad became a paradigm for the historians of the Sargonid era. 105 The rulers bear the same titles and aspired to being treated as divine. A conscious parallelism can be traced between divine and royal representations. The common practice was to install divinized images of kings in temples under their control. They both use popular mythological concepts, especially those connected with Gilgamesh, and adopt in art sexual representations of the ruler as a sign and symbol of power. They both understand that through association in commonly accepted rituals—and participation in an honored heroic tradition they receive special power, if not that of being a god then at least that of being his governor. 105. Glassner, Mesopotamian. . . , 10.

Innovation and Tradition within the Sphere of Neo-Assyrian Officialdom Melanie Groß Vienna

1. Introduction My aim in this article is to trace some aspects of innovation within Neo-Assyrian officialdom based on the composition of the household of the crown prince. By innovation in the sphere of officialdom I mean any kind of alteration or modification aimed at improving the existing bureaucratic system. There are two ways in which such innovation might be implemented: by the rearrangement of traditional offices, or the introduction of new ones. Naturally, these are not mutually exclusive, and the process of introducing new offices would inevitably affect those already existing. As to the officialdom of the Neo-Assyrian empire, it was not only different from that of preceding periods, 1 but it also underwent some changes within the time span of about 300 years over the course of the empire’s lifespan. In order to identify changes within officialdom based on the Neo-Assyrian written sources, I searched for those titles attested for the first time and attempted to evaluate their appearance at this period. In doing so I tried to take into account possible complicating factors such as changes in linguistic habits (rather than an altered machinery of administration), and discrepancies between the literal meaning of a title and the actual functions of the office-holder. Relevant information for this study comes primarily from the everyday documents, namely the legal and administrative texts and also the letters, mainly deriving from the last 150 years of the Neo-Assyrian empire. Within this timespan the written record varies in character and thus in the information it provides. 2 While the variable informative value of the sources and our understanding of them generate uncertainties, some are also inherent in the nature of Assyrian Author’s note:  This article was written in the framework of the project “Royal Institutional Households in First Millennium BC Mesopotamia” led by Heather D. Baker at the University of Vienna funded by the Austrian Science Fund (FWF, grant S 10802-G18) as part of the NFN “ ‘Imperium’ and ‘Officium’. Comparative Studies in Ancient Bureaucracy and Officialdom”. The post-canonical eponym dates, marked with an asterisk, are given here according to the reconstructed schedule of Parpola (in PNA 1/I: XVIII–XX). The abbreviations used here are according to the list of bibliographical abbreviations in PNA 3/II. 1. Especially in regard to the Middle Assyrian period; see Jakob 2003 on the Middle Assyrian administration and society. 2.  Note e.g. the chronological structure of the legal documents given in Kwasman and Parpola 1991: XVIII–XX, Tables I and II. Between 747 and 612 most legal documents from Nineveh derive from the reigns of Sennacherib, Esarhaddon and Assurbanipal.

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officialdom: although basic, routine tasks were assigned to particular officials, they were also entrusted with ad hoc missions not directly related to their regular function. 3 Nevertheless, it is possible to make some progress in identifying aspects of change within Neo-Assyrian officialdom.

2.  From a “Conquest Phase” to an “Imperial Phase” Innovation within the sphere of officialdom might reflect an episode of deliberate reform, or alternatively, an on-going process of smaller-scale ad hoc alterations. In the Neo-Assyrian empire it was the king who initiated and controlled conscious acts of bureaucratic innovation. He imposed administrative rearrangements or even widespread reform, either because of a perceived need to improve the system, or, in some cases, in response to a political crisis. There have been a few attempts to associate deliberate changes to officialdom during the Neo-Assyrian period with particular historical events. For example, Radner has convincingly related the apparent reinforcement of personnel concerned with palatial access during the reign of Assurbanipal to the after-effects of Sennacherib’s murder as well as the conspiracy against Esarhaddon. 4 These political disturbances may in turn have been partly provoked by the reinforcement of the establishments of the queen and crown prince from the reign of Sennacherib on (as indicated, for example, by their use of “bureau seals” in the 7th century; Radner 2008: 508–11). While the enhanced role of the establishments of the crown prince and the queen indicates that additional responsibilities were adopted by key figures of the royal family, the growth in the number and range of officials concerned with palatial access reflects an increasing attention on the royal household. This increased focus on internal matters by Esarhaddon and Assurbanipal was also stressed by Liverani (2001: 385), contrasting it with the achievements of Tiglath-pileser III and Sargon II in enlarging Assyrian territory and in reforming the provincial and military system. In view of these developments Postgate (1979: 194) called the reigns of Tiglathpileser III and Sargon II a “conquest phase” and those of Sennacherib, Esarhaddon and Assurbanipal an “imperial phase”. While some changes owing to this shift have been already observed and commented on by other scholars, 5 my aim here is to fill out the picture with further details and analysis, focusing on the household of the crown prince.

3.  The Establishment of the Crown Prince As to the royal family in Neo-Assyrian times, apart from the king it is the crown prince, the queen and the king’s mother who feature in the sources as prominent figures. Moreover, these key royal figures begin to appear more frequently with their own staff, forming separate establishments. Over the centuries it seems that 3.  This would lead us to the question of the degree of rationality in the sense intended by Max Weber (1972: 124–40) and his models of bureaucratic and patrimonial rule. While the assignment of specific tasks to specific functionaries implies a degree of rationalisation, ad hoc assignments are more consistent with a patrimonial mode of domination; thus the Neo-Assyrian empire may be categorised as a mixed type, a “patrimonial-bureaucratic” empire (cf. Blake 1979 on the Mughal empire). 4.  Radner (2010b: 279–80) suggests that the introduction of the rab sikkāti (“lock master”) and the ša-pān-nērebi (“entrance supervisor”) in the reign of Assurbanipal is an innovation of that time. 5.  E.g. Liverani 1995; Mattila 2009; Radner 2010b.

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these establishments underwent some modifications. The evidence for personnel of the king’s mother dates exclusively to the 7th century, presumably owing to the prominence of Naqi’a, king’s mother of Esarhaddon. 6 The queen had her own staff throughout the Neo-Assyrian period, but only in the 7th century do we have evidence for an expanded household. 7 Similar developments apply in the case of the crown prince, to whom the term mār šarri usually refers (Kwasman and Parpola 1991: XXVII–XXIX).

3.1.  8th Century Before the seventh century we hear of the masennu, so-called “treasurer”, the ša-qurbūti-officials (“aide”) 8 and unspecified servants (urdu) under the authority of the crown prince. While these functionaries are explicitly designated as his subordinates, their activities were limited to the external sphere. The treasurer of the crown prince administered real estate, 9 and the ša-qurbūti-officials of the crown prince were often concerned with captives and other military-related affairs. 10 Similarly, the sūsānī ša-šēpē (“horse-trainers of the personal guard”), mentioned in a letter of the crown prince Sennacherib to his father as being in his service (SAA 1 37 r. 7–8), were related to the military. Before the seventh century, unspecified servants of the crown prince appear as witnesses, and perhaps once in a short administrative note from the reign of Adad-nerari III. 11 From the same reign there is a fragment of a land grant preserved mentioning “men of the ‘house’ of the crown prince” (amēlē ša bēt mār šarri) in the penalty clause (SAA 12 9 r. 3, on the date see Kataja and Whiting 1995: 13). This could in particular refer to landed property of the crown prince as is probably also the case with bēt mar’ē šarri (“house” of the king’s sons) mentioned in the decree on the appointment of Nergal-āpil-kūmū’a in the reign of Aššurnaṣirpal II (SAA 12 83: 14´). Hence, while the crown prince is attested as having his own domain already in the ninth century, his establishment as well as his personnel is in particular associated with “external” affairs; his household proper is less observable. 12

3.2.  7th Century 3.2.1. Administrators Apart from Bēl-na’di, another treasurer of the crown prince acting as a witness for Atar-ili, eunuch of the crown prince of Babylon (SAA 6 287 r. 11, 670), the 7thcentury sources not only mention additional and different functionaries in the 6.  For most of the personnel of the king’s mother we cannot determine whether their attestations date to the late reign of Esarhaddon or early reign of Assurbanipal, although the evidence seems to refer to Naqi’a (Melville 1999: 86, fn. 41; Svärd 2012: 99–100). 7.  The most prominent figure in this respect is the palace supervisor (SAA 12 96 l.e. 3, 616*). It is only in the reign of Sennacherib that rab-x-officials appear as subordinates of the queen (e.g. chief cook of the queen, BT 140 r. 14, Parker 1963: 100, Pl. XXVI). 8.  Postgate (2007: 341–3) describes this functionary as “royal representative par excellence”. 9.  ND 2648 r. 4´ (Postgate 1974: 385–6); SAA 11 219 ii 14´. That the masennu managed the estates of the king, crown prince and king’s mother was already observed by Postgate 1974: 104–5. 10.  ND 2803 ii 26´, r. i 1, 8, 33, ii 14 (Parker 1961: 55–61, Pls. XIX–XXX); SAA 15 236: 9–10; SAA 1 29 r. 15. 11.  Edubba 10 36 r. 15´–16´; SAA 5 228: 10´–11´; SAA 6 52 r. 17, and probably TH 22 mentioning an otherwise unknown (crown) prince of Adad-nerari III named Ḫurāpu (Weidner 1940: 25). 12.  Subordinates of the crown prince only described as the “men” of his household perhaps indicate an early stage of development.

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service of the crown prince, but also key figures of the household administration previously only known in connection with the king’s own household. There is the ša-pān-ekalli (“palace supervisor”) attested beneath the crown prince from the late reign of Esarhaddon on. He is probably mentioned in two Babylonian letters (SAA 18 101 r. 7–8; 109: 3´) and he also witnesses a house sale (SAA 6 328 r. 7). Additionally a chariot fighter of his (mār damqi ša ša-pān-ekalli ša mār šarri) sells a woman in the year 629* (ND 2325, Parker 1955: Pl. XIX). According to the Babylonian letter SAA 18 109, it may be that the palace supervisor of the crown prince, like his counterpart of the main palace (see e.g. SAA 13 80), was responsible for access to the crown prince’s establishment, assuming that bēt rēdûti refers to or is associated with this institution. 13 We also find a ša-muḫḫi-bēt-rēdûti (“overseer of the Succession House”) who owes silver to Aššūr-mudammiq in the reign of Assurbanipal (StAT 2 132: 3–4, 645*). A similar office was presumably ša-muḫḫi-bēti ša mār šarri; ṢilBēl-dalli, frequently attested as witness for the eunuch Šamaš-šarru-uṣur between 660 and 631*, bears this title when witnessing a donation to Ninurta. 14 Apart from these two ša-muḫḫi-x-titles there is also the rab-bēt-mār-šarri (“major domo of the crown prince”) attested in two 7th-century documents. The title may be restored in a ceremonial banquet account and in a legal document, designating Ezbu who receives silver. 15 The literal meaning of the titles ša-muḫḫi-bēti and the rab-bēti suggests an official managing or supervising a household. The attestations of these offices within the domain of the crown prince do not reveal their particular tasks; these are illuminated by the evidence for the two offices installed beneath magnates 16 and provincial governors. 17 To name just a few significant instances, the ša-muḫḫi-bēti of the governor of Kalḫu appears once in connection with releasing an official (SAA 5 254: 13´), while the rab-bēti of the chief cupbearer figures in connection with assembling troops (SAA 5 67: 10´). Assuming that the two titles refer to different 13.  Understood as “Succession House” (CAD R 325–8; AHw 981 s.v. ridûtu), as also indicated by the designation mār rēdûti e.g. for the crown prince Assurbanipal (RINAP 4 60 r. 29´; 113: 30 [together with Šamaš-šumu-ukīn]) who entered the bēt rēdûti when nominated as crown prince and lived there afterwards (RINAP 4 1 i 21–22; 13: 1; 64: 7–10; cf. SAA 9 7: 3–6). The term bēt rēdûti first appears in the Neo-Assyrian period, when references to it almost exclusively derive from the seventh century. A single attestation of bēt mār šarri bēt rēdûti in a copy of a decree of Tukulti-Ninurta I (SAA 12 68: 6), presumably dating to the reign of Shalmaneser III (Kataja and Whiting 1995: 68), reveals that this concept already existed in the 9th or even 13th century, but only Sennacherib constructed a bēt rēdûti in Nineveh according to the inscriptions of his grandson. Assurbanipal further states that he grew up in this building, designated as “alternate palace within Nineveh”, and thus he lived there before his nomination (Prism F vi 24 / A x 53 in Borger 1996: 72, 255–6). Furthermore, it is clear from the letter SAA 16 28 of Šeru’a-ēṭirat, eldest daughter of Esarhaddon, that the bēt rēdûti was intended for other royal children too. Hence, the bēt rēdûti is not strictly identical with the bēt mār šarri (contra Renger 1980–3: 248), but it is highly related to the mār šarri. Cf. Streck 1916: 568–9. 14.  SAA 12 92 r. 7, 638*. Ṣil-Bēl-dalli bears the title ša-muḫḫi-bēti (without reference to the crown prince) also in ND 3463 r. 11 (641*) and SAA 12 94 r. 12´ (637*), although he was most likely installed beneath the crown prince here too; see Baker in PNA 3/I 1172 s.v. Ṣil-Bēl-dalli 2. 15.  SAA 7 148 ii 2´, Fales and Postgate (1992: 154) suggest that it should be rather read as IGI. DUB; ND 3412: 1, Parker 1955: Pl. XXVIII. Ezbu’s relation to the domain of the crown prince is emphasised by his father’s designation “from the Village of the Crown Prince”. 16.  That is, the seven highest-ranking officials of state (see Mattila 2000). 17.  For the ša-muḫḫi-bēti and the rab-bēti see Radner 1997: 201–2, fn. 1061. A ša-muḫḫi-bēti is also attested within the temple sphere (SAA 6 86 r. 13; SAA 14 62 r. 5´ and SAA 1 75: 6) and beneath the šapān-ekalli (CTN 2 96 r. 11–12).

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offices, it seems that the rāb-bēti was especially engaged in military affairs (see e.g. also SAA 15 60 r. 10´–15´, cf. Postgate 1973: 15, fn. 37) while the ša-muḫḫi-bēti was rather responsible for his master’s household proper. 18 However, it is significant that only in the seventh century are the “household overseer”, the “major domo” as well as the “palace supervisor” attested beneath the crown prince. Assuming them to be administrators within large households, their subordination to the crown prince indicates that his household was of considerable size, including administrative personnel for its internal organisation. Whereas the title ša-pān-ekalli implies that the crown prince’s household was a palatial one (thus indicating its enhanced status), 19 the ša-muḫḫi-bēti and the rab-bēti emphasise its structural similarities with those of the magnates and governors, presumably related to the fact that the crown prince had his own province in the seventh century (see below). 3.2.2.  Other Administrative Figures The rab nuḫatimmi (“chief cook”) and the rab karkadinni (“chief confectioner”) feature almost exclusively within the households of the king and his closest relatives, including the domain of the crown prince. 20 The chief cook of the crown prince is witness in a broken legal document (SAA 14 307 r. 5´), while his chief confectioner is listed in an administrative record (SAA 7 4 r. ii´ 4´) dated to the reign of Assurbanipal on prosopographical grounds (Mattila 2000: 17, 64). He is one of 49 “higher-ranking magnates of the crown prince” (r. ii´ 6´: LÚ.GAL–GAL.MEŠ DUMU–LUGAL) who were apparently just assigned to the heir to the throne. 21 As the tablet is broken, only five out of 49 officials are preserved, namely the chief confectioner, the “chief of equipment” (rab tilli), 22 the “official in charge of the levy” (rab batqi), the “chief of accounts” (rab nikkassi) and an overseer of [. . .] (ša-muḫḫi-[. . .], also attested in SAA 7 3 r. i 13´ with his personal name); the chief of accounts of the crown prince is also mentioned in a list of palace personnel (SAA 7 5 r. i 47). Judging from the overall attestations of these two officials, they were responsible for the maintenance and organisation of particular foodstuff: the chief cook was occupied with the supply of meat (related to temple offerings, see e.g. SAA 11 90 and SAA 12 77) and the chief confectioner was associated with fruits (see e.g. SAA 11 36 and SAA 12 77). The sources shed little light on the duties of these officials under the crown prince, though it seems reasonable to assume that they performed tasks similar to their counterparts in the main household. Hence, in the reign of Esarhaddon or Assurbanipal the crown prince’s establishment may have been self-sufficient in the provision of foodstuffs for the household itself and for certain temple offerings. 18.  Although observations made for the Middle Assyrian period suggest that the two titles were used interchangeably (cf. rab ekalli and ša-muḫḫi-ekalli, Jakob 2003: 72–4), perhaps supported by the Neo-Babylonian case concerning the titles ša-muḫḫi-sūti, bēl sūti and rab sūti (Jursa 1995: 86), they will be kept separate here as regards their contextualisation. 19.  Not only does this underline the construction of a “palace” for the crown prince Assurbanipal in Tarbiṣu (RINAP 4 93: 22–31 and the stone slab inscriptions RINAP 4 94 and 95) but may in particular refer to this circumstance. 20.  A chief cook of the Ištar temple is also attested (StAT 2 102 r. 3´); the contextualisation of other chief cooks and chief confectioners also suggests a temple connection (cf. Menzel 1981 I: 240). 21.  This assignment may have been only temporary. For instance, it could have been related to the assignment of lodgings as recorded in the lists SAA 7 8–12 from the reign of Esarhaddon or Assurbanipal (see Fales and Postgate 1992: XVII). 22.  This official can also be found as subordinate of the commander-in-chief (SAA 14 146 r. 5´–6´).

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3.2.3.  Personnel Concerned with Gatekeeping Personnel responsible for gatekeeping are first attested for the crown prince in the reign of Esarhaddon (SAA 6 299 r. 7–8). Specific officials administering the locking of doors are only attested in the reign of Assurbanipal. Ṭur-dala, the “lock master of the crown prince” (rab sikkāti ša mār šarri), witnesses a legal transaction of the eunuch Šamaš-šarru-uṣur (ND 3426 r. 35, Wiseman 1953: 141, Pl. XII). As Radner pointed out, the office of lock master does not appear before the reign of Assurbanipal (see above). This official was not only newly introduced into the crown prince’s household but also into the king’s own household at this time. It is not attested in connection with the households of other royal family members apart from the crown prince’s. 3.2.4. Professionals There are also some professionals attested under the crown prince’s authority, including a few explicitly designated as belonging to his household. This is the case with a brewer (sirāšu ša bēt mār šarri, StAT 1 23: 9´ = StAT 2 243), a master-builder (etinnu ša bēt mār šarri, SAA 14 166 r. 8, 621*) and a carpenter (naggāru ša bēt mār šarri, StAT 1 23: 5´). Other personnel include a shepherd (rē’û), a farmer (ikkāru) and a tiller (qatinnu). 23 There is even a cook mentioned in the literary composition known as the Underworld Vision of an Assyrian Prince (SAA 3 32: 5), where this person is made responsible for the preparation of mountain beer (šikār šaddî). Out of these professionals the tiller, the farmer and the shepherd would clearly have been active outside of the crown prince’s residence, but the brewer (and the cook) may be counted among the domestic staff of the crown prince. Most of these individuals feature in legal documents, either as witnesses or as house owners. The latter is the case with the brewer and the carpenter in the legal document StAT 1 23, where the brewer appears as a house buyer, the carpenter as a neighbouring house owner. 24 According to the origin of the tablet as well as the “overseer of royal graves” (see Radner 1999a: 96–7) listed as another neighbouring house owner, the houses in question were situated in Assur (cf. house owner Kulu’u, said to be “of the house of the crown prince” in StAT 2 258: 6´). As is evident from another legal document, the crown prince was in the possession of a house in Assur in the reign of Esarhaddon (SAA 14 59: 7, 675). This may partly explain why professionals subordinate to the crown prince resided in Assur (and not in Nineveh, where the crown prince’s main seat was located at that time). 25 3.2.5.  The Crown Prince’s Scribe Scribes beneath the crown prince are attested in legal texts, often as witnesses (SAA 6 57 r. 1´; 86 r. 8; 328 r. 6) 26 but also as a joint debtor of silver (StAT 3 84: 6, 23.  SAA 14 415 r. 10´; SAAB 5 51 r. 35, 620*; StAT 1 22 r. 23 = StAT 2 244 (drawn up after the reign of Assurbanipal, see Radner 1999a: 107). For the farmer cf. Novotny in PNA 3/II 1337 s.v. Tutî 4. (contra Fales and Jakob-Rost 1991: 108). 24.  These houses were located in an area also occupied by other functionaries, some of whom belong to the household of the commander-in-chief. Cf. SAA 11 222: 13´–r. 2 where the servants of the crown prince too occur together with those of the commander-in-chief. 25.  Sennacherib erected residences for two of his sons (Aššūr-nādin-šumi and Aššūr-ili-muballissu) in Assur and for another son (Aššūr-šumu-ušabši) in Nineveh (Frahm 1997: 142–3, 179–81), neither of whom is explicitly known as crown prince. 26.  SAA 6 57 dates to the reign of Sennacherib since Nabû-šumu-iškun is designated “[chariot driver] of Sennacherib”. A similar date is assumed for SAA 6 86 (see Baker in PNA 3/I 1152 s.v. Sitirkānu).

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641*) and, in the case of an Aramean scribe, as a joint seller (SAA 14 205 r. 13). Another scribe of the crown prince, Kēnî, is mentioned in a colophon according to which his son Aplāia drew up the tablet in question (4th tablet of the series ḪAR. RA = ḫubullu) for the reading of the crown prince Assurbanipal (Hunger 1968: 108, no. 345). Hence scribes of the crown prince might have functioned as his secretaries but are also associated with the scholarly sphere. While these attestations refer to crown princes active in the seventh century, earlier crown princes must also have had scribes at their disposal, given that Shalmaneser V and Sennacherib sent letters to their fathers, king Tiglath-pileser III and king Sargon II respectively (see below). 3.2.6. Scholars In the scholarly realm we find a chief exorcist, an exorcist, two diviners and a physician in the service of the crown prince; of these the chief exorcist is explicitly said to be “of the household of the crown prince” when witnessing a slave sale document (SAA 14 264 r. 3´). According to the letter SAA 10 257 from the exorcist Mardukšākin-šumi, 27 his colleague Rēmūtu, who is in the service of the crown prince, is ill. The sender lists suitable substitutes, all designated “bearded courtiers” (ša-ziqni), from whom the king might choose a replacement to serve the crown prince. Of the two diviners, one is witness in a legal document (SAA 14 166 r. 6, 621*) while Tabnî is known as (co-)author of several letters and queries. In the letter SAA 10 182 he describes how favour was shown not only to his father, a chief haruspex, 28 but also to himself when he was given (as subordinate) to the crown prince and used to have usufruct of the “leftovers” of the crown prince. Now apparently this situation had changed and another diviner had been honoured by being dressed in purple. Finally, after the reign of Assurbanipal, we encounter Nabû-šarru-uṣur, physician of the crown prince, witnessing a legal document (A 11240 r. 6, 622*, see Baker in PNA 2/ II 878 s.v. no. 52.). When discussing scholars serving the crown prince we should mention the scholar (ummânu) Balasî who is known to have been responsible for the education of the crown prince Assurbanipal, according to his own testimony in one of his letters to the king (SAA 10 39 r. 4–9): 29 “To whom indeed has the king done such a favour as to me whom you [the king] have appointed to the service of the crown prince, to be his master and to teach him?” Although Balasî was already regarded as belonging to the king’s entourage (cf. ll. 7–8), it was clearly a great honour to be selected to educate and train the heir to the throne. In other cases it is not so clear whether scholars were being employed to serve the crown prince before he reached maturity. 30

27.  He became chief exorcist in the reign of Assurbanipal (Frahm in PNA 2/II 722 s.v. Mardukšākin-šumi 2). 28.  In the very same letter Tabnî points out that his father took care of Esarhaddon already when he was a child. 29.  On the installation of an ummânu for the education and teaching of the crown prince see most recently Radner 2011: 364; Zamazalová 2011: 319–20. 30.  The same question arises with regard to other officials beneath the crown prince; cf. the discussion in Kwasman and Parpola (1991: XXVII–XXIX, especially XXVIII) on the time span 667–660, when only a child “prince par excellence” seems possible. Note also the suggestion of Radner (2010a: 27) that there may have been a nominated crown prince at all times.

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During the reign of Esarhaddon the crown prince features prominently within oracle queries as well as in the king’s correspondence with scholars, so it is perhaps not surprising that some scholars were specifically working for the crown prince. 31 Aside from his father, the crown prince was the only person to have scholars at his disposal, since access to scholars and thus to their wisdom was highly restricted. This is clear from a letter written to Esarhaddon by the so-called “enigmatic informer” reporting on Parrūṭu, a goldsmith of the household of the queen, who had “like the king and the crown prince” bought a Babylonian to teach his son exorcistic literature and extispicy omens. 32 3.2.7.  Other Offices We find not only functionaries with specific tasks and skills in the service of the crown prince in the seventh century, but also quite a number of ša-rēši-officials. As the title itself does not illuminate their function, we rely on either the context or on additional titles to determine their spheres of activity. In the case of those ša-rēšis said to be beneath the crown prince, they mainly appear as parties to legal transactions (SAA 6 287: 13–14 [eunuch of the crown prince of Babylon], 670; SAA 14 178: 1´; 205: 5´) or are listed in administrative records of palace personnel (SAA 7 4 r. ii´ 8´), thus shedding no light on their actual sphere of responsibilities. Nevertheless, few observations can be made by means of prosopography. The eunuch Atar-ili, leasing the village Baḫaia in SAA 6 287 and designated team-commander when selling the very same village in 666 (SAA 14 2: 1), probably hold this military function already in 670. Similarly, Ṣil-Bēl-dalli, known as household overseer of the crown prince (see above), is designated as ša-rēši in another tablet (ND 3426 r. 8, see Baker in PNA 3/I 1172 s.v. no. 2). In addition to the king and his closest relatives (crown prince, queen, king’s mother), also higher-ranking officials such as the chief eunuch, the commander-in-chief and governors are attested with a ša-rēši beneath them. Hence, the employment of ša-rēšis was not restricted to members of the royal family, although in the context of the present study they may be treated as another sign of the increased size and complexity of the crown prince’s household. Further functionaries whose title reflects status or social rank rather than a particular function include the mār ekallis (“son of the palace”), 33 two of whom are described as “of the Succession House” in legal texts (SAA 14 166 r. 3, 621*; 426: 4–5, 630*). Translated as “courtier” or “palace official” (CAD M/I 258; HAD 24 s.v. ekallu) and probably featuring a birth and childhood in the palace, they were usually assigned to the palace; the two of the Succession House suggest an attribution to the crown prince. The crown prince also had a mār qāti in his service, attested as a witness in the reign of Assurbanipal (SAA 14 125 r. 5´–6´). As far as I am aware, this compound only appears in Neo-Assyrian sources. The term is usually translated “adjutant”

31.  Several queries to the sungod were performed in the bēt rēdûti: SAA 4 89; 326–328. 32.  SAA 16 65: 2–12. According to Luukko and Van Buylaere (2002: XXXVII) this letter dates to 672–669, thus Parrūṭu might actually have been in the service of the king’s mother Naqi’a, as Ešarraḫammat had already died in 673. 33.  Contra Radner (1997: 206) who suggested that this term partially overlaps with that of rab ekalli since the rab ekalli Tartīmanni is once designated mār ekalli (CTN 3 30) instead. See also Pruzsinszky in PNA 3/II 1319 s.v. Tartīmanni.

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and the office can also be found beneath the chief eunuch and the palace supervisor; the latter’s mār qāti clearly acted as his master’s assistant (SAA 1 76: 10). 34 3.2.8.  The Staff of the Main Wife of the Crown Prince As shown by Svärd and Luukko (2009), the main wife of the crown prince is normally, but not exclusively, designated by the term bēlat bēti, usually translated as “lady-of-the-house”. 35 From the reign of Esarhaddon we not only encounter the lady-of-the-house herself more frequently, but also some of her subordinates. Now common servants (urdu, SAA 6 257: 1–4, 680), chariot fighters (mār damqi, SAA 6 200 r. 7´; SAA 14 169 r. 1, 619*), a chariot driver (mukīl appāti, in SAA 6 339 r. 9) and a šakintu (a female “administrator”, see Teppo 2007: 258; SAA 7 23: 1, 13, 14) are attested beneath her. 36 In the case of common servants and a chariot fighter, the bēlat bēti’s association with the crown prince is made explicit (ša bēlat bēti ša mār šarri). 37 It seems clear that in the seventh century not only did the crown prince have a well-developed household of his own, but also his main wife had her own establishment (perhaps even including a military branch), presumably headed by a šakintu, like the queen but on a smaller scale. 38 3.2.9.  Safeguard and Campaigning The enhanced status of the crown prince’s household is also indicated by military functionaries attached to the crown prince from the reign of Sennacherib onwards (cf. Mattila 2002: XX). The following military or military-related officials appear in the service of the crown prince: probably a commander-of-fifty (rab ḫanšê) attested in SAA 14 425 r. 23; cohort-commanders (rab kiṣri); horse-trainers (sūsānu); thirdmen (on chariot) (tašlīšu); chariot fighters (mār damqi); chariot drivers (mukīl appāti), and prefects (šaknu) as well as information officers (mūṭir ṭēmi). 39 Among 34.  When discussing designations which do not convey a precise function, I shall also refer to some 7th-century attestations of common servants (urdu) beneath the crown prince, as can be found in SAA 10 24: 9–11; SAA 16 41 r. 1 and 63 r. 20. 35.  Many attestations of the lady-of-the-house presumably refer to the crown prince Assurbanipal and thus to his main wife Libbali-šarrat. 36.  Probably also a eunuch of hers is attested already in the reign of Sargon II (CTN 2 223: 2). 37.  It is exactly this specification which indicates that there existed more than one woman with this status contemporaneously. Note that there is a village manager of the bēlat bēti of the commander-inchief attested in the later eighth century (ND 2605: 17–18, Parker 1961: Pl. XIX). 38.  A “chief fuller” (rab ašlāki), a major domo, a village manager, and probably a eunuch of the crown prince are temporarily(?) assigned to the household of the lady-of-the-house in SAA 7 4 r. ii´ 8´–12´; cf. fn. 22. 39. Cohort-commanders: e.g. SAA 16 148 r. 14–15 and SAA 7 5 ii 51. For a deputy cohort-commander of the crown prince see Jas in PNA 3/II 1448 s.v. Zīzî 15. The rab kiṣri also supervised cohorts of craftsmen instead of commanding a military unit, perhaps since the reign of Tiglath-pileser III (Postgate 1987: 259; cf. Postgate 1979: 210–2). Horse-trainers: e.g. in SAA 7 150 ii 8´ (of the open chariotry); SAA 7 5 ii 31. We also find Sama’, a murabbânu (translated as tutor or trainer [of horses]) of the crown prince, attested in the reign of Sennacherib (SAA 6 37 r. 7; 39: 16´; 40 r. 4 and 41 r. 5–6). In SAA 6 41 Sama’ is designated as murabbânu of Nergal-šumu-[. . .] which might have been another crown prince of Sennacherib (Kwasman and Parpola 1991: XXXII–XXXIII, fn. 59). “Third men”: e.g. Aplāia (PNA 1/I 116 s.v. no. 11). Including the chief “third men” Sīn-ašarēd (PNA 3/I 1129 s.v. no. 3.) and a deputy “third man” (SAA 14 53 r. 6´). Chariot fighters: e.g. BATSH 6 47 r. 12–13; StAT 2 181 r. 17. Chariot drivers: the attestation of Bēl-Ḫarrān-dūrī, chariot driver of the crown prince (broken), probably dates to the 8th or early 7th century (SAA 14 457: 10–11, see Postgate and Ismail n.d.: 49). For another example from the reign of Assurbanipal see SAA 14 21 r. 9. Prefects: e.g. SAA 7 148 r. ii 4´. Information officers: e.g. SAA 14 169 r. 7.

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the cohort-commanders beneath the crown prince were some assigned to ša-šēpē and ša-qurbūti-units. 40 From the reign of Assurbanipal on, the crown prince also had his own chief eunuch (rab ša-rēši), 41 otherwise only known as one of the seven highest ranks of state (Mattila 2000: 61–76, Mattila 2002: XX). Based on this evidence it was already observed by Mattila (2002: XX) that from the reign of Sennacherib on military forces beneath the crown prince were of considerable size and were organised like palace forces. 42 The military unit beneath the crown prince was presumably separated into the personal forces (equivalent to the qurubtu forces of the king consisting of ša-qurbūti and ša-šēpē) and the military forces (comparable to the king’s standing army led by the chief eunuch). 43 There remains the question of whether the ša-qurbūti officials attested beneath the crown prince in the second half of the eighth century indicate that the crown prince had his own qurubtu-forces already in the reign of Tiglath-pileser III or Sargon II. Similarly, there is the single attestation of the sūsānī ša-šēpē beneath the crown prince from the reign of Sargon. It might be that while the crown prince had his own personal forces already in the later eighth century, he was responsible for his own army only from the reign of Sennacherib on. Both the ša-qurbūti as well as the ša-šēpē are exclusively assigned to the palace or to the king and key members of the royal family. The king, the crown prince and the king’s mother had ša-qurbūti-officials 44 (with those of the king’s mother attested only in the seventh century). As for the ša-šēpē-officials, it seems that they were only attached to the king and the crown prince. 45 We may be dealing not only with a sign of the increased military responsibilities of the crown prince but also with a correspondingly greater degree of concern for the security of his person. 46 3.2.10.  Completing the Picture For the sake of completeness we should also mention that governors, village managers and mayors are attested in the service of the crown prince in the seventh century. 47 It is only evident for the seventh century that the crown prince had his own province probably located in the Assyrian heartland, with its capital at Balāṭu (Radner 2006: 49). Possibly related to the introduction of a province of the crown 40.  The cohort-commander of the crown prince Nabû-šarru-uṣur is assigned to the ša-šēpē (SAA 6 325 r. 20´, see PNA 2/II 875–6 no. 17), whereas his colleague Zārūtî is assigned to the ša-qurbūti in the same text (SAA 6 325 r. 19´, see PNA 3/II 1438 s.v. no. 20). 41.  Šamaš-šarru-uṣur in SAA 7 4 i 16´ and Aššūr-rēmanni, eponym of the year 621*. There are even two subordinates of the chief eunuch of the crown prince attested: a scribe (SAA 7 50 iii 5´–6´, reign of Assurbanipal) and a horse-trainer (SAA 14 40: 1–2, after reign of Assurbanipal). 42.  Cf. Dalley and Postgate (1984: 41) who suggested that the introduction of military forces beneath the crown prince and the king’s mother is related to the designation kiṣir (ša) Sin-ahhē-erība eššu mentioned in SAA 7 3 and 4. 43.  Cf. Mattila 2000: 153–4; Mattila 2002: XX; also Postgate 2007: 348–50. 44.  ša-qurbūti-officials beneath the crown prince include Nabû-aḫu-iddina (see PNA 2/II 799 s.v. no. 18) and Marduk-šarru-uṣur (see PNA 2/II 728 s.v. no. 16). 45.  ša-šēpē-officials beneath the crown prince include Urdu-Bēltu (SAA 14 50 r. 12, probably reign of Assurbanipal) and Manzarnê (SAA 14 157 r. 8´, 627*). 46.  Note therefore also the Medes and other ethnicities who were engaged as guards of the crown prince Assurbanipal, as suggested on the basis of Esarhaddon’s succession treaty (see Liverani 1995). 47.  Governors: Bēl-dūrī in the reign of Assurbanipal (SAA 14 23: 3–4) as well as a deputy (governor) probably in SAA 14 324: 2. Village managers: e.g. Sē’-ma’ādī in the reign of Sennacherib, see PNA 3/I 1102 s.v. Sē’-ma’ādi 1. Mayors: e.g. Sāsî in SAA 16 69: 8–r. 1 (if restored correctly). Another mayor of the crown prince, Maurmuqu, is attested in StAT 2 207 r. 23.

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prince might be those attestations of the crown prince’s personal estate, managed either by his governor (SAA 14 23: barley and a wagon-ox) or his deputy (governor) (SAA 14 98/99: barley). 48 Also attested as subordinates of the crown prince are two merchants, one of which is said to be “of the household of the crown prince” (SAA 6 210 r. 14, 676; BATSH 6 8 r. 12–13, 635*). Merchants are otherwise specified as being in the service of the household of the queen (SAA 6 140 r. 11) or with their origin. 49 Since tamkārus are known to have been royal trade agents (Radner 1999b: 101–2), their assignment to the household of the crown prince and the king’s mother supports the impression of a (conscious) assimilation of these two households to the king’s domain.

3.3. Conclusions Judging from the evidence discussed above, it was only in the seventh century that the household of the crown prince employed many of the key officials already found in the king’s own establishment. We gain the clear impression that the crown prince’s household was developing into an alternative royal palace household. This development may have begun at the latest in the second half of the eighth century, when in the reign of Tiglath-pileser III the crown prince Ulūlāiu (that is, the later king Shalmaneser V) was engaged in state affairs (Radner 2003–4: 96–101). The same is true for the crown prince Sennacherib, who was apparently entrusted with similar responsibilities. 50 It is likely that the crown prince generally—at least from the reign of Tiglath-pileser III on—played a significant role in state affairs, providing that he was old enough. A special case was certainly the “double-crown-princeship” of Assurbanipal and Šamaš-šumu-ukīn in the years 672–669, when it appears that the crown princes became part of the kingship itself (Maul 1995: 401–2). Whereas Assurbanipal, as designated heir to the Assyrian throne, may have been occupied with tasks similar to his predecessors, 51 Šamaš-šumu-ukīn presumably took on responsibilities over Babylon even before his father’s death. 52 Similarly, the Assyrian prince and son of Sennacherib, Aššūr-nādin-šumi, ruled over Babylonia from 699 down to 694 during his father’s reign (until he was captured by the Elamites). 53 In the case of both these Assyrian princes, high-ranking palatial officials of theirs are attested as witnesses in contemporary Babylonian legal documents (kudurrus). 54 Accordingly Aššūr-nādin-šumi had in his service a palace supervisor, a 48.  Note also the case of Ḫannî (SAA 6 264) who owes the crown prince 300 sheep.  49.  E.g. Kumusaean merchants (SAA 5 202: 9) and Egyptian merchants (StAT 2 173); see Radner 1999b: 106–9. 50.  Frahm 1997: 2–3. See letters written by Sennacherib to his father: SAA 1 29–40; SAA 5 281. 51.  Luukko and Van Buylaere 2002: XXVI, fn. 72. See the letters of the crown prince Assurbanipal to the king Esarhaddon (SAA 16 14–20). It is assumed that in 671, when Esarhaddon was on campaign in Egypt, Assurbanipal governed in his stead (see SAA 10 68; cf. Livingstone 2007: 102). Also it is assumed that when king Esarhaddon suffered from illness and was not able to govern his country, his role was taken over by Assurbanipal (Parpola 1983: 235–6). 52.  Although he officially gained the throne of Babylonia only when his father died, the correspondence of Šamaš-šumu-ukīn with the king Esarhaddon (SAA 16 21–24, especially no. 21) suggests that his engagement in Babylonia began prior to that (Maul 1995: 401), though it remains unclear whether Šamaš-šumu-ukīn was permanently resident in Babylonia before his father’s death (Frame 2007: 97). 53.  Aššūr-nādin-šumi was described as māru reštu (“first-born son”) in the inscriptions of Sennacherib (e.g. OIP 2 76: F2: 11). 54.  See Frame 2007: 232–5 (for Šamaš-šumu-ukīn: VA 3614 and BM 87220, both listing the same individuals with the same titles in the same order; for Aššūr-nādin-šumi: Ashmolean 1933.1101, edited

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“chamberlain” (ša-muḫḫi-bētāni), and a palace scribe (along with cohort-commanders, a “third man” and a chariot driver). For Šamaš-šumu-ukīn the following Assyrian offices were installed in Babylonia during his rulership: a vizier (sukkallu), a governor (šākin māti), a chief eunuch, a palace supervisor and a palace scribe (as well as a chariot driver). 55 It is not surprising that the Assyrian princes who were installed as Babylonian rulers had their own court and thus their own court officials at hand, therefore we have to treat this evidence separately from the evidence pertaining to the designated heirs to the Assyrian throne. On the other hand, this line of enquiry may lead us to another reason for the increase in the size and complexity of the household of the crown prince in Assyria. The introduction of rulership by an Assyrian (crown) prince over Babylonia in the early 7th century had general implications for the status of the crown prince: if a prince in such an influential position naturally has his own court, then there is all the more reason for the designated heir to the Assyrian throne to have one too. Both developments—the installation of an Assyrian prince in Babylon and the enhanced position of the designated heir to the Assyrian throne—may have originated in the same shift in policy. by Brinkman and Dalley 1988). Strikingly, individuals attested in the latter document can also be found in sources from Assyria, as noted by Mattila (2000: 63) with reference to SAA 11 221; cf. ABL 270; SAA 7 5, 6, 9. 55.  The majority of these offices was most likely only introduced into Babylonia during the period of Assyrian domination, when they mostly appear for the first time (Jursa 2010: 97–9).

References Ahmad, A. Y., and Postgate, J. N. 2007 Archives from the Domestic Wing of the North-West Palace at Kalhu/Nimrud. Edubba10. London: NABU Publications. Baker, H. D., ed. 2001 The Prosopography of the Neo-Assyrian Empire 2/II: L-N. Helsinki: The Neo-Assyrian Text Corpus Project. 2002 The Prosopography of the Neo-Assyrian Empire 3/I: P-Ṣ. Helsinki: The Neo-Assyrian Text Corpus Project. 2011 The Prosopography of the Neo-Assyrian Empire 3/II: Š-Z. Helsinki: The Neo-Assyrian Text Corpus Project. Blake, S. P. 1979 The Patrimonial-Bureaucratic Empire of the Mughals. The Journal of Asian Studies 39/1: 77–94. Borger, R. 1996 Beiträge zum Inschriftenwerk Assurbanipals. Die Prismenklassen A, B, C = K, D, E, F, G, H, und T sowie andere Inschriften. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Brinkman, J. A., and Dalley, S. 1988 A Royal Kudurru from the Reign of Aššur-nādin-šumi. Zeitschrift für Assyriologie 78: 76–98. Cole, S. W., and Machinist, P. 1998 Letters from Priests to the Kings Esarhaddon and Assurbanipal. State Archives of Assyria 13. Helsinki: Helsinki University Press. Dalley S., and Postgate, J. N. 1984 The Tablets from Fort Shalmaneser. Cuneiform Texts from Nimrud 3. London: British School of Archaeology in Iraq.

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Donbaz, V., and Parpola, S. 2001 Neo-Assyrian Legal Texts in Istanbul. Studien zu den Assur-Texten 2. Saarbrücken: Saar­ brücker Druckerei und Verlag. Faist, B. 2007 Alltagstexte aus neuassyrischen Archiven und Bibliotheken der Stadt Assur. Studien zu den Assur-Texten 3. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Fales, F. M., and Jakob-Rost, L. 1991 Neo-Assyrian Texts from Assur. Private Archives in the Vorderasiatisches Museum of Berlin 1. State Archives of Assyria Bulletin 5/1–2. Fales, F. M., and Postgate, J. N. 1992 Imperial Administrative Records, Part I: Palace and Temple Administration. State Archives of Assyria 7. Helsinki: Helsinki University Press. 1995 Imperial Administrative Records, Part II. Provincial and Military Administration. State Archives of Assyria 11. Helsinki: Helsinki University Press. Frahm, E. 1997 Einleitung in die Sanherib-Inschriften. Archiv für Orientforschung Beiheft 26. Wien: Institut für Orientalistik. Frame, G. 2007 Babylonia 689–627 B.C. A Political History. 2nd Edition. Istanbul: Nederlands historischarchaelogisch instituut te Istanbul. Fuchs, A., and Parpola, S. 2001 The Correspondence of Sargon II, Part III: Letters from Babylonia and the Eastern Provinces. State Archives of Assyria 15. Helsinki: Helsinki University Press. Hunger, H. 1968 Babylonische und assyrische Kolophone. Alter Orient und Altes Testament 2. Kevelaer: Butzon & Bercker / Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchner Verlag. Jakob, S. 2003 Mittelassyrische Verwaltung und Sozialstruktur. Untersuchungen. Cuneiform Monographs 29. Leiden: Brill / Boston: Styx. Jursa, M. 1995 Die Landwirtschaft in Sippar in neubabylonischer Zeit. Archiv für Orientforschung Beiheft 25. Wien: Institut für Orientalistik. 2010 Der neubabylonische Hof. Pp. 67–106 in Der Achämenidenhof / The Achaemenid Court. Classica et Orientalia 2. Edited by B. Jacobs and R. Rollinger. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Kataja, L., and Whiting, R. 1995 Grants, Decrees and Gifts of the Neo-Assyrian Period. State Archives of Assyria 12. Helsinki: Helsinki University Press. Kwasman, T., and Parpola, S. 1991 Legal Transactions of the Royal Court of Nineveh, Part I: Tiglath-pileser III through Esarhaddon. State Archives of Assyria 6. Helsinki: Helsinki University Press. Lanfranchi, G.. B., and Parpola, S. 1990 The Correspondence of Sargon, Part II: Letters from the Northern and Northeastern Provinces. State Archives of Assyria 5. Helsinki: Helsinki University Press. Leichty, E. 2011 The Royal Inscriptions of Esarhaddon, King of Assyria (680–669 BC). The Royal Inscriptions of the Neo-Assyrian Period 4. Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns. Liverani, M. 1995 The Medes at Esarhaddon’s Court. Journal of Cuneiform Studies 47: 57–62. 2001 The Fall of the Assyrian Empire: Ancient and Modern Interpretations. Pp. 374–91 in Empires. Perspectives from Archaeology and History. Edited by S. E. Alcock et al. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Livingstone, A. 1989 Court Poetry and Literary Miscellanea. State Archives of Assyria 3. Helsinki: Helsinki University Press. 2007 Ashurbanipal: Literate or Not? Zeitschrift für Assyriologie 97: 98–118.

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Luckenbill, D. D. 1924 The Annals of Sennacherib. Oriental Institute Publications 2. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press. Luukko, M., and Van Buylaere, G.. 2002 The Political Correspondence of Esarhaddon. State Archives of Assyria 16. Helsinki: Helsinki University Press. Mattila, R. 2000 The King’s Magnates. A Study of the Highest Officials of the Neo-Assyrian Empire. State Archives of Assyria Studies 11. Helsinki: The Neo-Assyrian Text Corpus Project. 2002 Legal Transactions of the Royal Court of Nineveh, Part II. Assurbanipal through Sinšarru-iškun. State Archives of Assyria 14. Helsinki: Helsinki University Press. 2009 The Chief Singer and Other Late Eponyms. Pp. 159–66 in Of God(s), Trees, Kings, and Scholars. Neo-Assyrian and Related Studies in Honour of Simo Parpola. Edited by M. Luukko, S. Svärd and R. Mattila. Helsinki: Finnish Oriental Society. Maul, S. M. 1995 Das “dreifache Königtum”–Überlegungen zu einer Sonderform des neuassyrischen Königssiegels. Pp.  395–402, Pl. 333 a-c in Beiträge zur Kulturgeschichte Vorderasiens. Festschrift für Rainer Michael Boehmer. Edited by U. Finkbeiner et al. Mainz: Philipp von Zabern. Melville, S. C. 1999 The Role of Naqia/Zakutu in Sargonid Politics. State Archives of Assyria Studies 9. Helsinki: The Neo-Assyrian Text Corpus Project. Menzel, B. 1981 Assyrische Tempel I. Studia Pohl: Series Maior 10. Roma: Editrice Pontificio Istituto Biblico. Parker, B. 1955 Excavations at Nimrud, 1949–1953: Seals and Seal Impressions. Iraq 17/2: 93–125, Pls. X–XIX. 1961 Administrative Tablets from the North-West Palace, Nimrud. Iraq 23/1: 15–67, Pls. IX–XXX. 1963 Economic Tablets from the Temple of Mamu at Balawat. Iraq 25/1: 86–103, Pls. XIX–XXVI. Parpola, S. 1983 Letters from Assyrian Scholars to the Kings Esarhaddon and Assurbanipal. Part II: Commentary and Appendices. Alter Orient und Altes Testament 5/2. Kevelaer: Butzon & Bercker / Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchner Verlag. 1987 The Correspondence of Sargon II, Part I. Letters from Assyria and the West. State Archives of Assyria 1. Helsinki: Helsinki University Press. 1993 Letters from Assyrian and Babylonian Scholars. State Archives of Assyria 10. Helsinki: Helsinki University Press. 1997 Assyrian Prophecies. State Archives of Assyria 9. Helsinki: Helsinki University Press. Parpola, S., and Whiting, R. M., eds. 2007 Assyrian-English-Assyrian Dictionary. Helsinki: Neo-Assyrian Text Corpus Project / Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns. Postgate, J. N. 1973 The Governor’s Palace Archive. Cuneiform Texts from Nimrud 2. London: British School of Archaeology in Iraq. 1974 Taxation and Conscription in the Assyrian Empire. Studia Pohl: Series Maior 3. Roma: Editrice Pontificio Istituto Biblico. 1979 The Economic Structure of the Assyrian Empire. Pp. 193–221 in Power and Propaganda. A Symposium on Ancient Empires. Mesopotamia 7. Edited by M. T. Larsen. Copenhagen: Akademisk Forlag. 1980 The Place of the šaknu in Assyrian Government. Anatolian Studies 30: 67–76. Special Number in Honour of the Seventieth Birthday of Professor O. R. Gurney, 28th January, 1981.

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1987 Employer, Employee and Employment in the Neo-Assyrian Empire. Pp. 257–70 in Labor in the Ancient Near East. American Oriental Series 68. Edited by M. A. Powell. New Haven: American Oriental Society. 2007 The Invisible Hierarchy: Assyrian Military and Civilian Administration in the 8th and 7th Centuries BC. Pp. 331–60 in The Land of Assur & the Yoke of Assur. Studies on Assyria 1971–2005. Oxford: Oxbow Books. Postgate, J. N., and Ismail, B. K. n.d. Texts from Niniveh. Texts in the Iraq Museum 11. Baghdad. Radner, K. 1997 Die neuassyrischen Privatrechtsurkunden als Quelle für Mensch und Umwelt. State Archives of Assyria 6. Helsinki: The Neo-Assyrian Text Corpus Project. 1999a Ein neuassyrisches Privatarchiv der Tempelgoldschmiede von Assur. Studien zu den Assur-Texten 1. Saarbrücken: Saarbrücker Druckerei und Verlag. 1999b Traders in the Neo-Assyrian Period. Pp. 101–26 in Trade and Finance in Ancient Meso­ potamia. MOS Studies 1. Edited by J. G. Dercksen. Istanbul: Nederlands historischarchaelogisch instituut te Istanbul. 2002 Die neuassyrischen Texte aus Tall Šēḫ Ḥamad. Berichte der Ausgrabung Tall Šēḫ Ḥamad / Dūr-Katlimmu 6, Texte 2. Berlin: Dietrich Reimer Verlag. 2003–4 Salmanassar V. in den Nimrud Letters. Archiv für Orientforschung 50: 95–104. 2006 Provinz. C. Assyrien. RlA 11/1–2: 42–68. 2008 The Delegation of Power: Neo-Assyrian Bureau Seals. Pp. 481–515 in L’archive des fortifications de Persépolis. État des questions et perspectives de recherches. Persika 12. Edited by P. Briant, W. F. M. Henkelman and M. W. Stolper. Paris: Éditions de Boccard. 2010a Assyrian and Non-Assyrian Kingship in the First Millennium BC. Pp. 23–34 in Concepts of Kingship in Antiquity. Proceedings of the European Science Foundation Exploratory Workshop held in Padova, November 28th–December 1st, 2007. Edited by G. B. Lanfranchi and R. Rollinger. Padua: S.A.R.G.O.N. 2010b Gatekeepers and Lock Masters: the Control of Access in Assyrian Palaces. Pp.  269–80 in Your Praise is Sweet. A Memorial Volume for Jeremy Black. Edited by H. D. Baker, E. Robson and G. Zólyomi. London: British Institute for the Study of Iraq. 2011 Royal Decision-Making: Kings, Magnates, and Scholars. Chapter 17. Pp. 358–79 in The Oxford Handbook of Cuneiform Culture. Edited by K. Radner and E. Robson. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Radner, K., ed. 1998 The Prosopography of the Neo-Assyrian Empire 1/I: A. Helsinki: The Neo-Assyrian Text Corpus Project. 1999c The Prosopography of the Neo-Assyrian Empire 1/II: B-G. Helsinki: The Neo-Assyrian Text Corpus Project. Renger, J. 1980–3 Kronprinz. A. Philologisch. RlA 6: 248–9. Reynolds, F. 2003 The Babylonian Correspondence of Esarhaddon. State Archives of Assyria 18. Helsinki: Helsinki University Press. Starr, I. 1990 Queries to the Sungod: Divination and Politics in Sargonid Assyria. State Archives of Assyria 4. Helsinki: Helsinki University Press. Streck, M. 1916 Assurbanipal und die letzten assyrischen Könige bis zum Untergange Niniveh’s. III. Teil: Register. Leipzig: J. C. Hinrichs’sche Buchhandlung. Svärd, S. 2012 Power and Women in the Neo-Assyrian Palaces. Unpublished PhD Dissertation. University of Helsinki.

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Tradition and Innovation in the Neo-Assyrian Reliefs Nicolas Gillmann Paris

The Neo-Assyrian artists are responsible for a great deal of innovations in the field of images. Oddly enough, they almost completely neglected sculpture in the round, at the benefit of stone carving. For this reason, the present communication will focus on the Assyrian reliefs as our main corpus to be compared with other earlier Mesopotamian works. As we will see, these innovations not only affect the formal structure of the image, but its style as well. However, reducing the Assyrian iconographic style to the innovations it embodies would oversimplify the problem. Actually, most of the iconographical themes depend on the Mesopotamian tradition. It appears therefore that, in Assyrian art, traditional and innovative patterns are tightly interwoven to create a new art form dominated by narration. Therefore, it will be our goal to try to discriminate between traditional and new patterns in Neo-Assyrian iconography. In order to do so, we first will have to determine the specificity of the Neo-Assyrian conception of the image. This once done, we shall turn our attention to the way those specific features of Assyrian iconography manifest themselves, thus answering the question of how the NeoAssyrian artists achieve their renovation of Mesopotamian art.

I.  Defining the Neo-Assyrian Iconographic Specificity What is most striking when one is looking at a Neo-Assyrian relief, is the seek for narrativity. 1 Not that this aspect of the image was never explored before, but never as systematically as the Assyrians did. No other Mesopotamian work of art can prevail itself of such a pervasive use of narrative structures in organization of the compositional field. This aspect of the Neo-Assyrian image can be considered a major breakthrough in the field of ancient Eastern visual arts, and changed the relationship between the image and its audience. When one is considering Sumerian iconography, say for instance the Stele of the vultures 2 (first half of the third millennium) or the Standard of Ur 3 (2600–2400 BC), the difference with a Neo-Assyrian battle scene is striking. 1.  See Groenwegen-Frankfort 1951: 172. 2.  Parrot 1960: fig. 163–166. 3.  Ibid. fig. 177.

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First of all, in the Sumerian works, and most specifically in the stele which is a commemorative monument just like the Assyrian reliefs were, the action is summed up very briefly. The narrative aspect of the scene limits itself to a row of soldiers with their chief leading them. There is no real narrativity here because the emphasis is on the symbolic dimension of the picture. The artist seeks more to suggest than to describe. The meaning of the story itself seems to have more significance to the artist than its circumstances. This concise formal language is best exemplified by the so-called mythical side of the stele where the king Eanatum holds in his net the enemies of Umma. Here, more than anywhere, the image of the defeated enemy is metaphoric, since in the reality this defeat would have taken the form of long rows of prisoners, of tributaries, of deportees, and so on. The same can be said of the Stele of Naramsin, 4 even though a first attempt at narration can be noticed. 5 It is not however appropriate to speak of narrativity in the case of the Stele of Naramsin, because the event recorded here, albeit historical in nature, reminds us much more of a mythical event than of an historical one. Again, the artist does not aim at a realistic depiction of what happened, but at a metaphorical storytelling, by drawing a parallel between myth and history, between the gods and the king, and eventually between the realm of the gods and the one of the humans. The scene thus acquires a highly symbolic character and lacks the realism the Neo-Assyrian reliefs will possess. If for the Assyrian artists meaning is also of the essence, they tend to express it in a very different manner. 6 It appears that the image has the ability to affect reality (by predetermining it for instance) because an image is better thought of in the Mesopotamian world as a being rather than a copy of a being. Therefore it exists a reciprocal relation between representing and represented. For them, the question of the “How” seems to be as significant as the one of the “What” or the “Why”. The looting of the city of Hamanu in Elam (Nineveh, North Palace, Room S1, slab A 7) is a good example. While the city is burning, one can actually see the Assyrian soldiers taking the booty away, and destroying the battlements of the fortification. There is here a perfect blend between the “What” (being the action itself) and the “How”, which is the means used by the Assyrians to implement their plan for the defeated city. Even the tools the soldiers are using match the archeological facts, since Victor Place found similar pickaxes in Khorsabad. 8 The capture of Lachish 9 under Sennacherib, the looting of Musasir under Sargon II 10 is also representative of the Assyrian way of commemorating historical events.

II.  Assyrian Innovations in Iconography Now that the specificity of the Assyrian way of depicting historical events is clarified, let us turn our attention to the ways the artists used to achieve their goal. To begin with, it is important to note that the Assyrian’s taste for innovation does 4.  Parrot 1960: fig. 213. 5.  See on the style of the Stele of Naramsin Parrot 1960: 176–178, and Nigro 1998: 289–292. 6.  On the importance of meaning in Mesopotamian art, see Bahrani 2003: §4; specifically pp. 122– 29 about images, and p. 131 on the power of images. 7.  Barnett 1976: pl. LXVI. 8.  Place 1867: pl. 71 and p. 85–86. 9.  Barnett 1998: pl. 322, 328–33. 10.  Albenda 1986: 133.

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not limit itself to depart from the traditional features of the ancient Eastern image, but also regards the works of the Assyrians themselves. The works, for instance, created under Sennacherib reveal such differences with the ones made under the previous kings, that it is not possible to tackle the problem straightforwardly. 11 On the other hand, a case by case study must be carried out, even if a certain degree of generalization is allowed, owing to the stability of the Assyrian iconographical rules.

1. Spatiality One of the most important conditions, if one is successfully to attempt at depicting any historical event in a convincing way, is for the artist to be able to render spatiality satisfactorily. 12 Since the Assyrians never had recourse to perspective, 13 this problem was never really solved. Nonetheless, they managed to implement some artistic tricks, allowing them to meet this challenge with a certain success. 14 When the Sumerian artists focus on a very abbreviated form of the action itself, the Assyrian artists usually adopt a wider framing and try to avoid close-ups at any cost. The capture of Lachish 15 or of Alammu, 16 the view of Nineveh, 17 the village of Balatu 18 and the looting of a Levantine city under Sennacherib 19 are fine examples. First, the artist set the main action in context by conceiving a landscape. These topographical frames can range from very basic to highly complex compositions (the Levantine city). In certain rare cases, like the capture of Alammu, the topography is mostly architectural, whereas the natural landscape seems to play a second role. Their use of framing can be very complex, using different framing in the same image to emphasize one thing or one person, like in the reliefs of Sargon II: for instance the capture of Harhar, of Kindau, of Kishesim. 20 Here, whereas the framing is very wide for the city, the focus seems to be on the Assyrian soldiers. We could say that Sargon’s artist seem to favor the “What” (the action) over the “How”. Sennacherib’s artists, on the other hand, pay more attention to the “How.” They seem to be concerned, as never before, with “true-seeming” spatiality and plausibility of the course of action. It is however necessary to notice that, in the case of Sennacherib’s artists, space in the picture tends to be omnidirectional, and as such profoundly diverges from the 11.  The same can be said for the works created between Ashurnasirpal II and Tiglath-Pileser III. Also the reliefs of the latter seem less carefully crafted than the ones of the former, they nonetheless account for significant innovations in the realm of spatiality, like a wider framing. See on that matter Auerbach 1989: 79–84. 12.  Although quite old, the studies of Schäfer 1963 (originally issued in 1919); Müller 1928: 199– 206; Nagel 1961 are still valid essays on the principles of Assyrian or Ancient art (Schäfer). However, some studies began from the 1980s onwards to address new issues, such as the ontological status of the image in the Ancient Near East (Jacobsen 1987, Bahrani 2003), thus allowing us to gain some deeper insight into the philosophical or even metaphysical background of this art form, and also to depart from the evolutionist approach on mimesis in art. 13.  Hrouda 1965: 286; Nagel 1961: 40–46; 14.  See on this issue Nagel 1961; Groenwegen-Frankfort 1951: 170–181; Reade 1980: 73. 15.  On the siege of Lachish, see Barnett 1958: 161–164; Ussishkin 1980: 175–195; Jacoby 1991: 122–130; Gillmann 2010: 243–261. On Alammu, see Nadali 2005: 114–127. 16.  Barnett 1998: pl. 158–173. 17.  North Palace, room H, slab 10, Barnett 1976: pl. XXIII. 18.  S-W palace of Nineveh, Rooms XXXVI, XIV, Court XIX, Court VI, see Barnett 1998: pl. 110. 19.  S-W palace of Nineveh, Room XLVIII, slabs 11–12, see Barnett 1998: pl. 410.. 20.  Khorsabad, Room II, slabs 6–7; 14–15; 22, see Albenda 1986: pl. 112, 119, 126.

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modern conception of a true-seeming spatiality whose principles rest on the idea of a spectator watching a certain scene from a defined point of view. This basic principle of linear perspective is certainly not the one toward which Sennacherib’s artists tend. On the contrary, space seems in their reliefs to be thought of as an enveloping element whose omnidirectional nature has to be pictorially rendered in order to do it justice. Space thus acquires a certain quality making it almost tangible. It remains however profoundly abstract, since its rendering is divorced from the actual perception 21 of the subject and is instead the representation not of what one sees, but of what one think about space. Whatever the form it may take, the rendering of space or at least the sensation of width and roominess is a major innovation of Neo-Assyrian art, already in some reliefs of Sargon II, 22 and definitely under Sennacherib. The rendering of depth however is another matter. The Assyrians have never solved this problem satisfactorily, and were forced to have recourse to the traditional conventions of Near Eastern art, e.g. stacking and overlapping of figures, probably because they never have seemed to want to question their way of thinking space and of representing it. The reason for that is that they never have departed from their traditional idea of what an image is, that is not an imitation of its object, but instead another way for it to actually be in the world 23. They had therefore no interest in any illusionistic representation technique such as linear perspective.

2. Temporality Implementing narrative processes in visual arts also implies mastering temporality in the image. To do so, the Assyrians never observed the classical rule of unity of space, time, and action. On the other hand, several actions take place on the same slab. This entails several levels of temporality. There is the temporality of the main action and the one of the secondary actions, often depending on it. If the Assyrians never have observed the unity of action in a composition, they nonetheless always have followed a strict organization of actions according to a hierarchical pattern. For instance, most of the scenes of deportation must have been taking place after the city has been captured, because it is not possible to take some prisoners and take some booty before one actually wins the battle. There are also many cases where no doubt can subsist when the deportees are fleeing with all their belongings often packed in a knapsack. 24 For instance, the deportees of the city being captured in room V, slab 36 25 (S-W palace at Nineveh) clearly refer to a scene taking place after the city has been captured, but they are present on the same image. However, a 21.  Whether or not linear perspective can be considered be the right way of representing what the subject actually sees is a very intricate issue. To gain some insight on this question, the reader might for instance refer to Panofsky 1975; Damisch 1987; Gombrich 2002. For a general approach of the question, see Arnheim 1974; 1979. 22.  Façade n, slabs 1–2, Albenda 1986: pl. 22. This relief is the first example of an aquatic background. Any body of water is usually, and will mostly continue to be, restricted to a determined area. Here however, Sargon’s artists decided for the first time to extend the area covered by water to the whole slab, thus creating a sensation of a limitless body of water. Sennacherib’s artists will then use the same technique for a hilly landscape, in order to simulate a panoramic view of the scene (see Lumsden 2004: 193). 23.  See Bahrani 2003, especially chapter 5. 24.  S-W palace of Nineveh, Room V, Slab 36. 25.  Barnett 1998: pl. 66.

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hierarchy is being created by the artist by limiting this scene to the inferior part of the picture. The main action occupies most of the slab and is clearly dominating the narrative structure of the whole. By doing so, the artist introduces two levels of temporality in its composition: the action and its consequences, the “Now” and the “After”. The same can be said of the slab 13, room XII 26 (S-W palace of Nineveh). A subtle variant can be seen court XIX, slab 12–11 27 (S-W palace at Nineveh): while the city is under attack on slab 12 on the left, the right part of the same city shows surrendering enemies with the Assyrian soldiers leaving the area taking their booty away on the right. Here, two different moments of the scene are being depicted; not only in the same image, but in the same city, split in half for the occasion. This goes to show that the Assyrian iconographic rules are both robust and flexible: they always structure the image, but are subject to adaptations when needed, without ever losing their internal consistency. Whenever the artist feels that several episodes of a single event are too important to be summed up in the same scene, he can chose to devote several slabs to the same episode. The siege of Alammu or the siege of Lachish is a typical example. In the scene of the siege of Lachish, less than three slabs are devoted to the battle itself, whereas five more slabs show the procession of the captives bowing before the king. Obviously, this second episode, usually confined to the lower register, is here emphasized by depicting it on five slabs. It is necessary to stress here the significance of this conception. The entire room XXXVI is devoted to the siege of Lachish, which is exceptional in Assyrian art where usually any event rarely exceeds one to two slabs. From Sennacherib onwards, not only the number of slabs devoted to the representation of any given historical event tends to increase, but entire spaces now begin to be devoted to one single event, like room XXXVI, or one dominant theme, like court VI. The central position of room XXXVI in the palace also reinforces the impression of a very carefully planned artistic project, where architecture and image are strongly tied together. This relationship between architecture and image invites us to view an Assyrian palace, especially under Sennacherib, as an oeuvre d’art totale. This approach offers new avenues of research for scholars, because some trends of contemporary art in the XXth century, such as the Bauhaus and Neo-plasticism (De stijl), also sought to approach architectural space and painting in mutual interaction. The cultural context may be different, but there is still a lot to gain, on the methodological level, of comparisons drawn between ancient and contemporary art, provided we exercise caution in the application of this new methodological approach by avoiding any anachronism. 28 All those examples show us that the Assyrian artist not only innovates in the perspective of ancient Near Eastern art seen as a whole, but also in its own time frame.

26.  Ibid. pl. 151. 27.  Ibid. pl. 206–7. 28.  H. Lefèbvre, in The production of space, first published in 1973, already mentioned the importance of the Bauhaus for the process of the production of space. The role of the Bauhaus was to allow this process to appear consciously in the mind of the urban planners. The Bauhaus was also remarkable for its approach to space, which is not thought of as a neutral content for things, but as something now created by the architect (Lefebvre 2000: 146–49).

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III.  Remaining Traditional Patterns in Assyrian Art 1.  Subject Matter As innovative as it may be, Neo-Assyrian art remains dependent on traditional iconographic structures and subject matters, 29 although some of them have been altered to such an extent that they can almost be viewed as new. For a start, a subject matter such as the king bearing a basket on his head at the occasion of the foundation of a monument is a very old theme rarely used in Assyrian iconography. It is actually confined to stelae, such as the one of Ashurbanipal commemorating the rebuilding of the E-Sagila in Babylon (BM 90864 30). It can be compared to Sumerian precedents, such as the relief of Ur-Nanshe from Tello. 31 In this case, maybe Ashurbanipal himself as a highly cultivated monarch asked for this traditional subject matter in order to fit the tradition and to highlight his legitimacy as an heir of the past. As we saw with the Stele of the vultures or the Standard of Ur, the triumph of the king and the procession of his armies is almost a cliché in ancient Near Eastern art. It is also to be seen in Neo-Assyrian art, but in a very specific manner making it almost new. For instance, the procession of the troops of Ashurbanipal after a victory shows the counting of the spoil and a soldier being decorated by his superior. 32 Such a luxury of details and vivid depiction of what happened after the victory is nowhere else to be found in Mesopotamian art. The banquet’s theme is also a classic, widespread for instance in the glyptic and therefore attested from the beginning of Mesopotamian art onwards. The Assyrians re-used it, but as usual gave it an unprecedented grandeur: the slabs 28–27, room R 33 of the North palace at Nineveh show the return of the hunters bringing back the animals they killed, especially some birds apparently already prepared for the coming banquet. When compared with the Ur-Nanshe plaque, depicting a banquet, the difference is striking. The same is true for the servants bringing some brochettes of locusts at the palace of Sennacherib (room LI, slab 12). 34 Whereas in the Ur-Nanshe plaque the banquet is only depicted in a schematic manner with only the king and some other figures drinking, in the Neo-Assyrian reliefs plenty of details are given, such as the various dishes prepared or even the presentation of the food (for example see the numerous fruits basket and the way the fruits are arranged). We can note that if here the subject is traditional, the innovation introduced by the Assyrians consists once again of putting the emphasis on the “How”, corresponding here to the preparation of the banquet. The general impression we get when considering the iconographic themes of Assyrian art is that they all are traditional in nature and origin, but deal with it in a new way.

2.  Spatiality: The Problem of Depth If the Neo-Assyrian art bears testimony to major breakthroughs in some aspects of the spatiality in the image, especially under Sennacherib, the rendering 29. On that matter, see the detailed contribution of J. Reade 1979: 29, and more generally, pp. 17–110. 30.  Barnett 1976: Pl. 1. 31.  Parrot 1960: fig. 159 or Caubet & Pouyssegur 2002: 64. 32.  Hall 1928: pl. XXXVII. 33.  Barnett 1976: pl. XLII. 34.  Barnett 1998: pl. 436.

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of depth has never found a completely satisfactory solution. The truth is, this is something that was not legitimate to expect from an art systematically refusing the illusion of space. 35 Attempts have indeed been made to suggest space, but never did the Mesopotamian artists seek to devise an appropriate visual strategy to achieve this goal. The reliefs of Sennacherib, probably the most innovative Near Eastern work of art in many ways, 36 are probably the best evidence to back up this theory. Perspective, I mean illusionistic ways of rendering spatiality, would have been the most appropriate method to give Sennacherib’s artists the means to their ambitions. Actually, they preferred to continue the old ways and systematically avoided distorting the objects like linear perspective does. They preferred to continue to deconstruct them, showing several faces of the same object in the same view. This is, for instance, what is happening when a man is represented with his face in profile, his shoulders full-face and his legs in profile again. The same happens in architecture, when some hidden faces of a given structure are nonetheless shown on the image. 37 The cubist artists used to resort to such expedients. This was called “simultaneity”. 38 Much more than that, this way of representing things showed them not only under several faces in the same time, but also as we could never see them in reality. This is actually the reason why Mesopotamian art never thought of linear perspective as a meaningful way of representing things. Those artists could not invent it, because they did not need it. 39 What mattered to them was revealing the object as it truly was; abstracting it from the spatial reality where a fictive viewer could see it only from a certain angle. The significance of the point of view and the visual distortions it entails appeared with the Greeks where the emphasis was on subjectivity. As Aristotle puts it, the art must show nothing more than what meets the eyes. 40 In Mesopotamian and Assyrian art as well for that matter, art must precisely show what does not meet the eyes. It must reveal to us the objects as they really are, not as they seem to be from a certain point of view. 41 Because this was also the opinion of the Assyrian artist, he never tried to make any serious attempt to use the principles of perspective. The best examples are two reliefs: one of them coming from the palace of Sennacherib, the other from the one of Ashurbanipal. The first is the capture of Alammu (room XIV) where the main gate of the city seems to be seen in “some kind” of a perspective view: we are forced to say “some kind 35.  Although it would not be appropriate here to discuss this idea in detail, it refers to the question of the “Kunstwollen”, see Panofsky 1975: 197–221. Briefly, the notion of Kunstwollen deals with the question of whether the artists of a determined period in time did not use certain artistic processes because they did not want to or because they were not able to. Although his approach is not related to the question of the Kunstwollen, it pertains to the psychology of perception, see on that matter Gombrich 202: 18–19. 36.  Russel 1991: 214. 37.  This has been previously demonstrated by Tucker 1974: 115 for the bronze bands of Balawat. It is also possible to identify such a technique in the reliefs, for example N-W palace at Kalhu, slabs B-3, B-4, B-17; Khorsabad room V, slabs 6–7, room II, slab 22; at the S-W palace at Nineveh room I, slabs 14–15, room XIV, slab 10; North palace at Nineveh room H, slabs 8–9, room F, slab 15. 38.  See Moselle 1973: 220. A lot has been said on simultaneity in Cubism. This is just one of the many studies available, which has the merit to focus specifically on that topic and which quotes several scholars, artists, critics of the 10’s who tried at the time to gain an insight into the most striking visual peculiarities of Cubism. 39.  See above, note 33. 40.  Onians 1979: 29. 41. On the position of Ancient art on that matter, see Gombrich 2002: 15 or Brunner-Traut in Schäfer 1963: 399.

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“of a perspective view, because it seems so alien to the Assyrian artistic standards that one cannot really be sure of what was meant by this way of representing the gate. According to the traditional Mesopotamian iconographic rules, the gate should have been showed full-face, but instead it is somehow twisted, perhaps trying to suggest here a ¾ front view. The other case is the slabs 9–10, room I, 42 from the palace of Ashurbanipal (North palace at Nineveh). Here, the artist tried to show the road leading to the city with two converging lines like one would expect according to the linear perspective standards. This seems so much at odds with the regular Assyrian drawing principles, that we almost cannot believe that it is indeed the road leading to the city. Instead, we are prone to imagine that we are dealing here with some strange undetermined pattern that has yet to be identified. This impression is enhanced by the very traditional way of depicting the walls of the city, which are in reality, one behind the other, but in the Assyrian image always stacked one above the other. Like in traditional Mesopotamian art, in Assyrian art “above” stands for “behind.” The goal being, according to what I have just said, to avoid distorting the shapes of objects according to a certain point of view and to avoid them being hidden by each other, thus showing only partial views of a given object. These two unique examples prove that at the core of Neo-Assyrian art, on a formal level at least, there always remained a link with Mesopotamian tradition. In a conclusion, it seems important to stress the highly specific character of Assyrian art in terms of narrativity. While some attempts had earlier been made in the history on the Ancient Near East, never was an art so entirely devoted to narration. This, in turn, brought some significant innovations to the rendering of spatiality and temporality. While in some periods of Assyrian art (for instance under Sennacherib) the artists try to cope more specifically with the question of the rendering of a more “true-seeming” pictorial space, it is worth noticing that the Assyrian artists never made any foray into the laws of perspective. More than that, it is not even possible to assume that given some time they would finally discover it, because under Ashurbanipal a more strict and conventional separation of the pictorial field into different registers reappears, 43 whereas Sennacherib’s artists had abolished it. As to the iconographic themes chosen by the artists, Assyrian art remains very conventional and actually elaborates, in a very creative way, on traditional Mesopotamian subjects, such as the lion hunt, the banquet scenes, or war. Consequently, one can say that while Assyrian art has a strong innovative character on a formal level (more sophisticated iconographic rules), it however remains very conservative on the thematic level. 42.  Barnett 1976: pl. XXV. 43.  Nagel 1961: 18.

References Albenda, P. 1986 The Palace of Sargon II, King of Assyria. Paris: éd. Recherches sur les civilisations. Arnheim, R. 1974 Art And Visual Perception, University of California Press. 1979 Perception And Pictorial Representation, Praeger, New York. Auerbach, E. 1989 Emphasis and Eloquence in the Reliefs of Tiglath-Pileser III. Iraq 51: 79–84.

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Bahrani, Z. 2003 The Graven Image. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Barnett, R. D. 1958 The Siege of Lachish. IEJ 8/3: 161–64. 1962 The Sculptures of Tiglath-pileser III. London: The British Museum Publications Ltd. 1970 Assyrian Palace Reliefs in the British Museum. London: The British Museum Publications Ltd. 1976 Sculptures from the North Palace of Ashurbanipal at Nineveh. London: The British Museum Publications Ltd. 1998 Sculptures from the South-West Palace of Sennacherib at Nineveh. London: The British Museum Publications Ltd. Budge, E. A. W. 1914 Assyrian Sculptures in the British Museum, Reign of Ashur-nasir-pal II 885–860 BC. London: The British Museum Publications Ltd. Caubet, A. and Puyssegur, P. 2002 L’Orient Ancien: aux origines de la civilisation. Paris: Maxi-Livre. Damisch, H. 1987 L’origine de la perspective. Paris: Flammarion. Davis, W. M. 1979 Plato on Egyptian Art. Journal of Egyptian Archaeology 65: 121–127. Garelli, P. 1980 Les empires mésopotamiens. Pp. 25–48 in Le Concept d’Empire. Paris: PUF. Gillmann, N. 2010 Quelques remarques additionnelles sur le siège de Lachish. UF 41: 243–261. Gombrich, E. 2002 L’art et l’illusion. Paris: Phaidon. Groenwegen-Frankfort, H. A. 1951 Arrest and Movement, An Essay on Space and Time in the Representational Art of the Ancient Near East. London: Faber and Faber. Hall, H. R. 1928 La sculpture babylonienne et assyrienne au British Museum. Paris et Bruxelles: Van Oest. Hrouda, B. 1965 Die Grundlagen der bildenden Kunst in Assyrien. ZA XXIII: 275–297. Jacobsen, Th. & Lloyd, S. 1987 The Graven Image. Pp. 15–32 in Ancient Israelite Religion. Philadelphia: Fortress Press. Jacoby, R. 1991 The Representation and Identification of Cities on Assyrian Reliefs. IEJ 41: 113–130. Lefebvre, H. 2000 La production de l’espace. Paris: Anthropos. Lumsden, S. 2004 The Production of Space at Nineveh. Iraq 66: 167–197. Mosele, F. 1973 Die Kubistische Bildsprache von Georges Braque, Pablo Picasso und Juan Gris unter besonderer Berücksichtigung der Entwicklung der Farbe. Zurich: Juris Druck + Verlag. Müler, V. 1928 Die Raum Darstellung der altorientalischen Kunst. AfO 5: 199–206. Nadali, D. 2005 Sennacherib’s Siege, Assault and Conquest of Alammu. SAAB XIV: 114–127. Nagel, W. 1967 Die Neuassyrische Reliefstil unter Sanherib und Assurbanaplu. Berlin: B. Hessling Verlag. Onians, J. 1979 Art and Thought in the Hellenistic Age. London: Thames and Hudson. Panofsky, E. 1975 La perspective comme forme symbolique. Paris: Editions de Minuit.

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Parrot, A. 1960 Sumer. Paris: Gallimard. Reade, J. E. 1979 Assyrian Architectural Decoration and Subject Matter. BaM 10: 17–49. 1979b Narrative Composition in Assyrian Sculpture. BaM 10: 52–110. 1980 Space, Scale, and Significance in the Assyrian Art. BaM 11: 75–87. Russel, J. M. 1991 Sennacherib’s Palace Without Rival at Nineveh. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Schäfer, H. 1963 Von ägyptischer Kunst. 4th edition. Wiesbaden: Otto Harassowitz Verlag. Tucker, D. J. 1994 Representations of Imgur-Enlil on the Balawat Gates. Iraq 56: 107–117. Ussishkin, D. 1980 The Lachish Reliefs and the City of Lachish. IEJ 30: 175–195.

Une Armure Expérimentale du Premier Millénaire av. J.-C. Fabrice De Backer Louvain

Introduction L’ensemble d’écailles PK06 04055.0002–11 fut découvert lors de la campagne de fouilles archéologiques effectuées à Zeyve Höyük en 2006 (Fig. 1–3). 1 Ce mobilier, encore peu attesté dans la région, permet d’étoffer la connaissance actuelle des armures du Proche-Orient ancien durant le Premier millénaire avant notre ère.

I.  Contexte de la découverte L’ensemble d’écailles apparut durant la campagne de fouilles de Porsuk 2006, le 16 août, sur la pente Est du Chantier IV, sur le sol 04055, à proximité d’un fond de jarre, à ∆103, 16. 2 Celle-ci se situe au sommet d’un système défensif, Caisson n° 2, et au-dessus d’une couche de destruction datée du niveau V de Porsuk, qui correspond à la fin de la période hittite impériale. 3

II.  Le lot d’écailles 4 Les neuf plaquettes rectangulaires de fer découvertes présentent une surface doublement bombée, dans le sens de la largeur et dans celui de la longueur (Fig. 1–3). 5 Sur la face longitudinale bombée de chacune d’entre elles, malgré l’état parfois délabré de certaines, on remarque une berme centrale convexe, aux extrémités arrondies. Sur chaque extrémité des plaquettes, bien que souvent celle-ci manque suite à la brisure ou à l’érosion de l’objet, trois perforations organisent l’espace disponible en deux secteurs relativement égaux: un trou près de chaque angle, et un troisième entre eux, dans l’axe de la berme centrale. Chacune des plaquettes complètes mesure entre 6 et 7 cm de long sur 1,5 cm de large et presque 3 mm d’épaisseur maximale à la berme centrale. Au moment du dégagement, l’ensemble était disposé sur un registre horizontal, dont chaque écaille, couverte en partie par la précédente, couvrait une partie de la 1.  D. Beyer. “Zeyve Höyük (Porsuk): Rapport sommaire sur la campagne de fouilles de 2006” Anatolia Antiqua 15 (2007), 298, fig. 14. 2.  Ibid., 290, fig. 1–2; 292, fig. 4. 3.  Ibid., 299, fig. 16. 4.  PK06 04055.0002–11. 5.  Ibid., 298, fig. 14.

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Fig. 1.  L’ensemble des écailles PKO6 04055.0002-11 découvertes à Porsuk. Photographie Mission Archéologique de Porsuk.

suivante. Sur l’extrémité gauche de cette bande métallique, une écaille particulière mérite d’être signalée. En effet, l’objet dénommé 04055.04 comporte, en plus des caractéristiques essentielles des autres éléments, une série de trois perforations supplémentaires sur la face longitudinale. 6 Constituées de fer, très oxydées, et très fragiles, les écailles furent prélevées in situ après avoir été enduites de Peg 2000 dilué dans l’acétone à 70 %, ce qui permit d’en récupérer certaines dont les multiples fragments pouvaient se perdre aisément dans la terre. 7

III. Typologie Quelques définitions permettront au lecteur de comprendre les termes plus spécifiques qui seront utilisés dans les paragraphes suivants. Ceux-ci porteront respectivement sur l’origine et l’évolution de la cotte d’écailles au Proche-Orient ancien, avant de proposer une identification possible pour les écailles de Porsuk.

a.  Définitions actuelles Dans ce premier paragraphe, on établira une définition particulière pour chaque type de protection qui pourrait être représenté par ces plaquettes de métal, afin 6.  Ibid., 298, fig. 14. 7.  Le matériel a été déposé au Musée de Niğde.

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Fig. 2.  L’ensemble PK06 04055.0002-11. Dessins de A. Horrenberger (Beyer, 2007: 298, fig. 14).

Fig. 3.  L’écaille PK06 04055.04, dotée de trois perforations supplémentaires. Photographie Mission Archéologique de Porsuk.

de pouvoir proposer l’une ou l’autre possible identification. Les principaux types de protection que nous passerons en revue seront la cotte de mailles et la cotte d’écailles. 1.  La cotte de mailles Elle est constituée de plusieurs centaines d’anneaux entrelacés et solidarisés par le moyen de rivets ou d’autres anneaux. Contrairement à une erreur de nomenclature fortement répandue dans la littérature, les plaquettes métalliques découvertes au Proche-Orient ancien, les monuments figurés et les textes ne permettent en aucun cas de penser que ce type d’armure fut utilisé dans cette région avant la période gréco-romaine.

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2.  La cotte d’écailles Ce type d’armure se décline en deux variantes, principalement différenciées par le mode de fixation des éléments qui les composent. Un premier modèle est constitué de plusieurs petites plaquettes reliées et cousues sur un support de cuir ou de tissu. La confection de registres horizontaux permet de réaliser de longues bandes d’écailles dont chacune recouvre le flanc de celle qui la suit, afin de renforcer la résistance de l’ensemble aux coups qui y sont portés. Les armuriers utilisaient, bien sûr, de nombreuses techniques de laçages différentes qui se reflètent sans aucun doute dans le nombre, la position et l’agencement Fig. 4.  Fragment de panse des perforations réalisées sur la surface des écailles. 8 du style dit “Phrygian” Ware, La variante de ce modèle, principalement observée découvert à proximité des sur les monuments et matériels d’époques romaine et écailles PK06 04055.0002plus tardives, repose sur l’assemblage des écailles entre 11. Dessin de l’auteur. elles, par le truchement d’anneaux métalliques, sans recourir au support de cuir ou de tissu. Bien évidemment, le choix de l’un ou l’autre type d’armure reposait certainement sur les possibilités matérielles et les conditions de combat propres aux civilisations concernées. Comme le lecteur l’a certainement déjà compris, les plaquettes métalliques découvertes à Zeyve Höyük appartiennent à un fragment de cotte d’écailles.

b.  L’apport des textes hourrites et akkadiens Les premières mentions de cottes d’écailles proviennent d’Anatolie et se rapportent à l’armure attribuée aux soldats, aux chevaux et aux chars de guerre. 9 Elles apparaissent dans les textes hourrites de Nuzi durant le Deuxième Millénaire avant notre ère sous la forme du terme za-ri-(a-)am, ou šar-ya-an-ni dans ceux de Boğasköy. 10 Ce terme correspond à l’Akkadien des textes d’Amarna contemporains, KUŠsari-am. 11 Ce dernier terme permet également d’apprendre, quand il est adjoint à siparru, que l’armure était réalisée sur une base de cuir ou de tissu. 12 Ces armures se composaient d’écailles réalisées selon deux tailles standardisées: “grande” et “petite”, de bronze ou de cuir, et assemblées par centaines sur une seule cotte, que celle-ci couvre le corps d’un homme ou d’un animal. Le terme hourrite qui désigne une écaille, souvent relevé au pluriel, kùr-zi-meteMEŠ, est kùr-zi-me-tù à Nuzi et gur-pi-ši à Boğasköy, dont l’étymologie révèle qu’il provient de l’Akkadien classique kursindu, “serpent sauvage”. 13

8.  D. Stronach, “Metal Objects from the 1957 Excavations at Nimrud” Iraq 20 (1958), 173. 9.  E. Speiser, “On Some Articles of Armour and their Names” Journal of the American Oriental Society 70 (1950), 47. 10.  Ibid., 48. 11.  Ibid., 47. 12.  Ibid., 48. 13.  Ibid., 48–49; M. Civil, et alii, eds. The Assyrian Dictionnary of the Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago, vol. 8, K (Chicago: The Oriental Institute, 1971), 567, 1; 568, 2.

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Dans les textes akkadiens du Premier Millénaire avant notre ère, dont les Annales et le courrier néo-assyriens sont une des composantes essentielles, deux variantes, issues de cette racine commune, apparaissent: gur-pi-si  dans les documents d’Assurnasirpal II, et gur-si-pi dans ceux de Sargon II. 14 Précisément, dans ces deux cas, les cottes d’écailles semblent suffisamment onéreuses pour être mentionnées parmi les cadeaux royaux, et suffisamment importantes pour l’être également parmi la liste du butin ramené de la huitième campagne de Sargon II en Urartu. 15

IV.  Datation des objets découverts: les références comparatives Le contexte archéologique dont proviennent les écailles de Porsuk ne permet pas de les dater avec beaucoup précision. Les dessins et schémas qui illustrent cet article ont pour seul but de représenter certains principes, et ce dans le seul cadre de celui-ci. 1.  XVe siècle av. J.-C.: Les témoignages de l’Âge du Bronze Récent (Kamid el-Loz) Au Deuxième Millénaire avant notre ère, l’avancée technologique représentée par l’invention et le développement du char de combat léger entraîna également l’évolution des moyens de protection corporelle. En effet, comme le combattant principal d’un char léger porte souvent un arc, pour l’utilisation duquel le soldat a besoin des deux mains, le corps doit être efficacement protégé des projectiles et des coups ennemis. Comme il doit également pouvoir évoluer sur le champ de bataille en cas de problème, bander son arc et tenir sur le char, il faut que l’armure soit assez souple et stable à la fois (Fig. 5, d). En tenant compte de ces objectifs, les écailles d’un reptile sont une bonne solution à envisager. D’après certains auteurs, il était normal que l’animal dont le système défensif naturel avait été copié donne son nom à l’armure issue des recherches entamées pour adapter celui-ci à l’être humain. 16 Avec la pratique et l’expérimentation, quelques améliorations apparaissent. Par exemple, la forme originellement arrondie et plate des écailles deviendra de plus en plus rectangulaire, bombée dans le sens de la longueur, et l’espace entre celles-ci sur le support sera de plus en plus restreint jusqu’à ce que les plaquettes se chevauchent (Fig. 5, a–b). De la sorte, les coups reçus sont amortis par le coussin d’air qui se forme entre les écailles et la cotte sur laquelle elles sont cousues, déviés par le contour convexe des écailles, et arrêtés par les trois couches superposées du matériau protecteur (Fig. 5, c). Certains types d’armure d’écailles de bronze datant de l’Âge du Bronze Récent apparaissent dans les fouilles, comme sur le site de Kamid el-Loz. 17

14.  E. Speiser, “On Some Articles of Armour and their Names”, 50. 15.  Fr. Thureau-Dangin, Une relation de la huitième campagne de Sargon (Paris: W. De Gruyter. 1912), 60, l. 392. 16.  E. Speiser, “On Some Articles of Armour and their Names”, 48. 17. W. Ventzke, “Zur Rekonstruktion eines bronzen Schuppenpanzers” Pp.  94–100; 117, 149. in Frühe Phöniker in Libanon 20 Jahre Deutsche Ausgrabungen in Kamid el-Loz, Ph. Von Zabern ( Mainz am Rhein, 1983), 97, fig. 47; 98, fig. 48–49; 99, fig. 50; 117; 149, fig. 54.

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Fig. 5.  Quelques types d’écailles de bronze utilisées au XVe siècle av. J.-C. à Kamid el-Los. a) Tête pointue, b) Tête plate, c) Fragment en position de couture, d) Le vêtement d’écailles utilisé par un soldat juché sur un char. Dessins de l’auteur (d’après Ventzke, 1983: 97, fig. 47).

2.  IXe –VIIIe siècles av. J.-C.: Les témoignages des Pré-Sargonides Au début du Premier Millénaire avant notre ère, l’expérience de la cotte d’écaille comme armure donna lieu à certaines adaptations du modèle ancien, selon les besoins et les disponibilités propres à chaque civilisation, comme la recherche de protection supplémentaire et l’allègement du poids du vêtement (Fig. 6, a-c ). Néanmoins, si les proportions rétrécissent, l’extrémité des écailles est encore très souvent arrondie, comme les bas-reliefs néo-assyriens contemporains et les fragments d’armure retrouvés en fouilles à Nimrud et à Hasanlu, par exemple, l’attestent bien. 18 Bien que généralement portée par les équipages de char, les monuments figurés présentent également des archers protégés par des porteurs de bouclier revêtus d’armure d’écailles, et combattant au pied des villes assiégées (Fig. 6, d). 19 18.  D. Stronach, “Metal Objects from the 1957 Excavations at Nimrud”, 169–181, pl. XXXIV, fig. 1–1, 0; O. White-Muscarella, Bronze and Iron. Ancient Near Eastern Artifacts in The Metropolitan Museum of Art, (New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art. 1988) 54, n° 62–63, fig. 62–63. 19.  R. Barnett, The Sculptures of Aššur–Nasir–Apli II (883–859 B. C.), Tiglath–Pileser III (745–727 B.C.), Esaraddon (682–669 B.C.) from the Central and South-West Palaces at Nimrud, (Londres: Trustees of the British Museum, 1962), 178–179, pl. CXXXIII; F. De Backer, “The Neo-Assyrian Siege-Archers: Some Remarks” In Proceedings of the 54th Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale, Würzburg, 20–25 July 2008. Edited by G. Wilhelm. Forthcoming.

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Fig. 6.  Quelques types d’écailles utilisées au IXe siècle av. J.-C. a) Tête ronde, b) Tête plate, c) Vue d’un fragment en position de couture, d) Le vêtement d’écailles utilisé par un soldat assiégeant une cité. Écailles découvertes à Kalhu / Tell Nimrud. Dessins de l’auteur (d’après Stronach, 1958: 173, pl. XXXIV, n° 1-3; Barnett R., 1962: 178).

3.  VIIIe-VIIe siècles av. J.-C.: Les témoignages des Sargonides Au milieu du VIIIe siècle avant notre ère, on fixe un format qui durera pour les cottes d’écailles, constituées de lamelles métalliques, ou de cuir, rectangulaires, bombées dans le sens de la longueur et de la largeur, et renforcées par une longue

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Fig. 7.  Quelques types d’écailles utilisées au VIIIe-VIIe siècle av. J.-C. Écailles découverte à Porsuk / Zeyve Höyük. a) Écaille seule, b) Fragment d’armure en position de couture, c) Vue en coupe de la même position, d) Le vêtement d’écailles utilisé par des soldats assyriens au combat sous Sennachérib. Dessins de l’auteur (d’après Muscarella, 1988: 317-321, n° 451-459, fig. 451-459; Barnett, 1998: pl. 334).

berme aux extrémités arrondies sur le centre des objets (Fig. 7, a-c). 20 Ce type d’armure apparaît de plus en plus sur les bas-reliefs et dans les objets découverts en fouilles dans les palais néo-assyriens, principalement sous les règnes de TéglathPhalazar III, Sennachérib et Assurbanipal (Fig. 7, d). 21 Parmi les sites sur lesquels ce genre de d’écailles se retrouve, on peut penser aux palais de Nimrud 22 et de Memphis (Fig. 10). 23 Cela, bien sûr, n’empêche pas la continuation ou la variation des modèles plus anciens à l’échelle locale et très dispersée, comme en Syrie, en Iran ou à Chypre. 24 20.  O. White-Muscarella, Bronze and Iron, 317–321, n° 451–459, fig. 451–459. 21.  R. Barnett, The Sculptures of Aššur–Nasir–Apli II (883–859 B. C.), Tiglath–Pileser III (745–727 B.C.), Esaraddon (682–669 B.C.) from the Central and South-West Palaces at Nimrud, 108; 122; R. Barnett, Sculptures from the North Palace of Ashurbanipal at Nineveh (668–627 B.C.), (Londres: Trustees of the British Museum, 1976), 42; 511. 22.  O. White-Muscarella, Bronze and Iron, p. 316, n° 451; n° 453; p. 318, fig. 451 a – c; p. 319, fig. 453. 23.  Inv. UC 63420, 63421, 63413, 63401–63403 (London University Museum); W. Petrie, Tools and Weapons Illustrated by the Egyptian Collections of the University College of London, (Londres: British School of Archaeology, 1917), pl. XLII, V115–117; 127; p. 38. 24.  H. Klengel, Geschichte und Kultur Altsyriens, (Vienne: A. Schrall, 1980), 141, fig. 59; 324; T. Dezsö, “Panzer” Pp 319–323 in Reallexikon der Assyriologie und Vorderasiastischen Archäologie, Bd 10, 5./6. Lief., Panzer-Pflanzenkunde. (Edited by E. Ebeling, et alii. Berlin: 2004), 319–323.

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Les écailles néo-assyriennes comparables à celles de Porsuk sont datées du règne de Sargon II, donc entre 722 et 705 av. J.-C., voire du VIIe siècle avant notre ère. 25 De plus, les premières représentations certaines de ce type d’écailles apparaissent sous Sennachérib, donc entre 705 et 704 av. J.-C., sur les bas-reliefs qui relatent la prise de Lakish (Fig. 7, d). 26 Par conséquent, on peut concevoir que l’ensemble des écailles découvertes à Zeyve Höyük en 2006 daterait de cette période. 4. VI e–IV e siècles av. J.-C.: Les témoignages des Perses Achéménides Après la chute de Harrân, en 609 avant notre ère, qui marqua la fin du Nouvel Empire assyrien, les Babyloniens, puis les Perses Achéménides continueront à utiliser l’armure d’écailles, souvent sous d’autres formes, plus simples (Fig. 8). 27

V.  Identification des objets découverts: PK06 04055.0002–11 D’après le matériau utilisé, la forme choisie et les similarités iconographiques, ce fragment d’armure d’écailles fut vraisemblablement réalisé entre le début du VIIIe et le VIIe siècle avant notre ère. Cependant, peu d’éléments permettent d’attribuer ce fragment de cuirasse à une civilisation locale particulière, comme les Néo-Hittites, ou plus lointaine, comme les Néo-Assyriens. Au début du Premier Millénaire avant notre ère, l’Asie Mineure était souvent traversée et secouée par des armées en guerre, et les soldats qui les composaient provenaient parfois de lointaines régions, comme l’Urartu. Par conséquent, l’origine exacte de ce fragment d’armure reste difficile à établir. a.  Comme armure de véhicule ou d’animal L’identification spécifique de ces écailles reste aussi relativement problématique. En effet, il existe peu de probabilités qu’un fragment d’armure d’écailles de char soit retrouvé sur le flanc d’une colline en Cappadoce, bien que l’érosion du site en fasse disparaître une partie conséquente avec le déroulement des siècles. De même, la possible attribution de ces plaquettes métalliques à un caparaçon de cheval ne semble pas plus adéquate pour le lieu de la découverte, mais l’érosion pourrait aussi expliquer cela. b.  Comme armure destinée à l’homme La deuxième proposition d’identification reste la plus valable, puisque l’idée principale en est que les écailles proviennent d’une armure corporelle humaine. La question qui se pose alors est de savoir quelle partie de la cuirasse est représentée par ces objets. Quelques éléments peuvent permettre d’envisager une solution, comme le fait que les plaquettes furent retrouvées en position de couture sur le vêtement, se chevauchant côte à côte. De plus, l’une d’entre elles, située sur une extrémité de la 25.  M. E. L. Mallowan, Nimrud and Its Remains (Londres: Collins,. 1966), 421; O. White-Muscarella, Bronze and Iron, 318. 26.  R. Barnett, The Sculptures from the South–West Palace of Sennacherib at Nineveh, 328–334; 349–351. 27.  O. White-Muscarella, Bronze and Iron, 212, n° 321, fig. 321.

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Fig. 8.  Quelques écailles utilisées au VIe siècle av. J.-C. Fragment d’armure découvert à Parsagardes. Dessins de l’auteur (d’après la photographie publiée dans Muscarella O., 1988: 212, n° 321, fig. 321).

Fig. 9.  La cotte d’écailles du VIIIe siècle av. J.-C. a) Vue de face, b) Vue de profil droit, c) Vue de profil gauche. Dessins de l’auteur.

bande ainsi formée, comportait une série de trois perforations sur l’une des faces longitudinales (Fig. 2–3). Les monuments figurés des VIIIe et VIIe siècles avant notre ère présentent toujours les écailles des armures en registres horizontaux superposés, et composés d’écailles latéralement assemblées (Fig. 7, d). Les écailles semblables découvertes dans les contextes archéologiques contemporains comportent toujours deux séries de trois perforations, réalisées sur les deux extrémités longitudinales de l’objet et, parfois, deux perforations de plus, situées sur les deux extrémités arrondies de la berme centrale (Fig. 7, a). Par conséquent, cette seule écaille dotée de perforations latérales devait sans doute appartenir à une rangée située sur le flanc de couture de la cuirasse, là où la première plaquette était cousue sur le support, afin de commencer un nouveau registre horizontal (Fig. 7, b-c). La taille de la plaquette en question, et des autres écailles, est trop importante pour avoir appartenu au secteur qui couvrait la nuque et

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Fig. 10.  Écailles d’armure rectangulaires, Inv. UC 63420 (d’après http://www.petrie.ucl.ac.uk/search/object_drill/result3. php?pageNum_

les épaules, on peut donc considérer que ce fragment couvrait le flanc du combattant à ce stade actuel de la recherche (Fig. 9, a-b-c). 28 Sur l’illustration utilisée dans le cadre de cet article, on aperçoit la fermeture éventuelle qui permettait de revêtir l’habit (Fig. 9, c). Le côté gauche fut délibérément choisi pour recevoir cette fonction car, au combat, et sur les monuments figurés concernés, le bouclier se trouve plus généralement dans la main gauche du soldat, et que des sangles gêneraient sans doute un archer pour bander l’arc (Fig. 6, d; Fig. 7, d).

Conclusion Ce fragment d’armure fut sans doute utilisé entre le milieu du VIIIe et celui du VIIe siècle avant notre ère. Dans le cadre de la transition entre l’Âge du Bronze et l’Âge du Fer dans le contexte anatolien, ce type de matériel tombe à point nommé. Cette période voit, non seulement le développement du métal prédominant pour son efficacité, le fer, et l’apparition de technologies différentes, comme l’équitation et le char de combat lourd, mais aussi un retour vers les guerres à grandes échelles, ce qui amena la démocratisation des armures d’écailles. En effet, les textes contemporains montrent que certaines villes exportaient de grandes quantités de ces armures. 29 Par conséquent, ce type de mobilier, retrouvé sur une portion de rempart et à proximité d’une couche de destruction, peut constituer le souvenir d’un affrontement contemporain des campagnes anatoliennes des rois néo-assyriens, principalement durant le VIIIe siècle avant notre ère. Dans l’ensemble découvert, un type particulier d’écaille, qui comporte les perforations latérales, n’a pas encore été recensé dans la littérature sur les armures orientales anciennes que l’auteur a pu consulter. 30 28.  D. Stronach, “Metal Objects from the 1957 Excavations at Nimrud ”, 73, XXXIV, fig. 5–10; D. Ussishkin, The Conquest of Lachish by Senacherib (Tel-Aviv: Tel-Aviv University Institute for Archaeology, 1982), 57, fig. 48. 29.  O. White-Muscarella, Bronze and Iron, 318. 30.  T. Dezsö, “Panzer”, 319–323.

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De plus, cette découverte, que suivit celle du Professeur T. Matney à Ziyaret Tepe, permet de penser que d’autres pourraient encore survenir. 31 En effet, on a jusqu’ici découvert fort peu d’écailles d’armure remontant au début de l’Âge du Fer en Anatolie. D’autres sites contemporains ont néanmoins fourni quelques illustrations de l’utilisation de ce type d’armure en combat, monté sur un char, voire sur le pagne d’une figure d’autorité. 32 La relation entre ce fragment d’armure et le secteur des remparts dans lequel il fut découvert n’est pas encore claire à ce stade de la recherche. 31. T. Matney, “Report on Excavations at Ziyaret Tepe, 2006 Season” Anatolica 33 (2007), 23–73. 32.  W. Orthmann, Untersuchungen zur Späthetitischen Kunst (Bonn: R. Habelt, 1971), 79–82, pl. 51, c, Sakçagözü B/1; 130, pl. 5, a, Ashara 1.

A Group of Seals and Seal Impressions from the Neo-Assyrian Colony Tell MasaikhKar-Assurnasirpal with More Ancient Motifs Paola Poli Ferrara

0. Introduction The site of Tell Masaikh is located on the left bank of the lower Middle Euphrates, about 5 km upstream from Ashara-Terqa. Since 1996 excavations have been carried out by an international team, led by Maria Grazia Masetti-Rouault. Among the different archaeological levels attested there, those of the Neo-Assyrian period are certainly the most important and interesting. The site has been identified as Kar-Assurnasirpal, the “Port of Assurnasirpal,” on the basis of excavation data, epigraphic material found there, and information found in Neo-Assyian royal inscriptions and archives. The settlement was founded as a colony during the reign of Assurnasirpal II, in the first half of the ninth century. The colony was founded on an ancient tell, which has seen a long and complex history, with different phases of occupation. The most ancient settlement was Chalcolithic followed, after a long period of abandonment, by a Middle Bronze II and III rural settlement which possibly extended into the Late Bronze Period. 1 The Middle Bronze age is archaeologically documented, while for the Late Bronze age there are no attestations. There are three main phases of the Neo-Assyrian: NA0; NA01; NA02. Phase NA0, which corresponds to the colony’s foundation, was found on top of the Middle Bronze Age and Chalcolitic strata, but the archaeological attestations are very poor. On the contrary, the structures of phase NA1 and NA2 are very imposing and of major significance. At the beginning of the eighth century, the town was completely rebuilt (phase NA1), probably under the rule of Nergal-eresh, 2 the Governor of the Rasappa province. Later, at the end of the eighth century–perhaps during the reign of Tiglath-pileser III–the site was attacked; the colony and its palace were immediately rebuilt, with a distinctly Assyrian organization and taste (phase NA2). Structures and levels belonging to the Neo-Assyrian period have been excavated in areas D, E, G and F. The main parts of the palace, founded by Nergal-eresh, were 1.  For the archaeological investigations see the reports published in Athemaeum – Studi di Letteratura e Storia dell’Antichità, Università di Pavia, every year from 2001 to 2009. See also Masetti-Rouault in press (a), in press (b); Masetti-Rouault/Salmon 2010. 2.  See Streck 1998–2001.

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Fig. 1.  General plan of the excavations.

discovered in areas E and G (fig. 1). The plan of this area and the archaeological material associated with this context reveal the presence of an Assyrian royal residence. One of the main sectors of the building is a vast courtyard with a baked brick floor, possibly the open part of the Assyrian “bâbanu.” The archaeological levels found in sector F are later than the previous ones: they date to the last part of the eighth century. They probably correspond to the palace built by Tiglath-pileser III. After fifteen archaeological expeditions the collection of seals and sealings from Tell Masaikh consists of about one hundred and fifty pieces, eleven of which are original seals, while all the others are impressions. Most of them share the clear iconographic and stylistic traits of the classic Neo-Assyrian imperial tradition and can therefore be dated to a period between the end of the ninth and the seventh centuries. This means that they are contemporary to the Neo-Assyrian archaeological levels discovered at the site. 3 Even though the glyptic material was found, as mentioned above, in the Neo-​ Assyrian levels, there is a small group of cylinder seals and sealings with iconographic features which are typical of a more ancient tradition, testifying to a cultural link with the Middle-Assyrian tradition. All of the pieces presented in this contribution were found in the area of the palace erected by Nergal-eresh, but in fills of 3.  For a very preliminary analysis on the seals and sealings from Tell Masaikh see Poli 2010. See also Poli 2003; 2005.

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phase NA2, namely when the site was attacked and reorganized under the reign of Tiglath-Pileser III.

1.  Sealing no MK12 311 (figs. 2, 3) 4 Found in area G, it reproduces part of a cylinder seal and on its back an impression of cloths is visible; it probably closed a container, such as a box or a sack. Although only the upper part of the impression is well preserved, it is possible to distinguish the face of a bearded genius with a divine head-dress with three pairs of horns. He is facing toward the right, near a stylized tree. A bird perches on a branch of the tree and there is a crescent moon in the sky. On the opposite side of the image, a small part of the wing of another genius is preserved. It is clear that the original design, engraved on the seal, was composed of an antithetical scene consisting of a stylized tree in the centre flanked by two human-headed geniuses. Owing to the poor conservation of the impression, it is not possible to identify what the genius has in his hand. The scene was probably not completed by the usual wing disc on the stylized tree. 5 The original seal was inscribed: cuneiform sign A, reversed, is visible on the left of the impression. The image reproduces, in its general design, a typical iconography largely attested both in glyptic material and in the reliefs dating back to the Neo-Assyrian period. However, a close examination of the individual elements reveals that the impression from Tell Masaikh presents unusual details which may reflect the influence of a more ancient artistic tradition.

1.1. As far as this particular scene, Parpola says: “neither the mirror-image King nor the mythical sages are attested as flanking figures before the emergence of the Late Assyrian tree, so they certainly represent genuine Assyrian innovation”. 6 Collon, who does not completely agree with Parpola conclusion, underlines that neither the “mirror-image King nor the mythical sages” are already attested among the Syrian glyptic material of the eighteenth century, moreover, according to the scholar, various kinds of sages are reproduced on either side of a tree or a disc on Middle Assyrian and contemporary seals. 7 Matthews suggests that the forerunner of the Neo-Assyrian scene is the image defined by him the “tree- centred scene,” 8 where the two attendants can be of various types: such as humans or griffin-demons. 9 4.  The impression measures 4,5 X 1,7 X 1,6 cm. 5.  The heads of the two genii and the top of the tree are at the same level; it is likely that the preserved part of the sealing corresponds to the top of the seal itself. In such a case, even on the original seal, the usual winged disc above the tree did not appear. This particular feature is an important element in the complex meaning of the iconography. Teissier (1984: 38), regarding this particular scene, points out: “On seals, a winged sun disc is invariably placed above the tree.” Also Parpola (1993: 163–164, note 15) considers the winged disc a “characteristic feature” of the scene. Only in very few examples does it not recur: see, for instance, Collon 2001, nos. 179–182; Lambert 1979, no 78e; all these records are of Babylonian origin or are influenced by the Babylonian tradition. 6.  Parpola 1993: 165, note 24. 7.  Collon 2001: 83. 8.  See Matthews1990: 107. 9.  See for instance Matthews1990, nos. 489, 492, 494.

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Fig. 2.  Sealing no MK12 311.

Fig. 3.  Drawing from sealing MK12 311.

On the other hand Porter argues for a Cassite origin of the image, since a Late Cassite seal shows a tree flanked by the king and by an Apkallu, wearing a fish suit. 10 On the basis of the previous considerations one can argue that the origin of the scene goes back to the iconographic tradition of the second millennium, but assumed its standardized form in the Neo-Assyrian period, when it was most diffuse and its special meaning was closely connected to the royal court. 11

1.2. The single elements of the representation, on the other hand, seem to reproduce typical features of the Middle-Assyrian figurative repertory. The iconography of the tree is of particular interest. On the basis of the preserved part of the image, it can be supposed that the original tree consisted of a central trunk, which is not preserved, topped with a sort of palmette, from which a series of branches ending with leaves rose. These are very close to each other, forming a sort of garland around the inner tree. 10.  Porter 1993, pp. 137–138, note 22. See Matthews1990, no 196. 11.  For an exhaustive study on the various interpretations on the Assyrian sacred tree see M. Giovino 2007.

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This specific variant of the tree iconography does not find real parallels in Neo-Assyrian documentation, 12 while it is much more similar to some examples found in the Middle-Assyrian period. A fairly close parallel is the tree depicted on a seal in Wien, 13 in the same way, a tree has a palmette or leaves on the top from which various branches and volutes are detached. The seal is attributed to the reign of Adad-nirari I, at the beginning of the thirteenth century. 14 Also typical of a more ancient artistic tradition is the bird that roosts on the tree. The same figurative detail occurs in an impression on a jar from Mohammed Harab 15 and on a seal from the of Pierport Morgan Library Collection. 16 The former object is attributed to the beginning of the thirteenth century, while the chronology of the latter is more uncertain. According to Venit the seal, dated by Porada 17 to the thirteenth century, should be assigned to the fourteenth century. 18 At the same time Matthews underlines the difficulty of proposing a date for the seal, defined as “unclassifiable because of the twisted tree on a hill.” 19 The same motif appairs again on a precious ivory pyxis, found in Assur, with an incised decoration. 20 The object is attributed to the late fourteenth century. 21 This particular kind of bird is generally interpreted as a “hen”. 22 On the various documents examined above, the bird always perches on a tree characterized by naturalistic features. On the two seals, in fact, a globular head tree occurs, while on the pyxis a date palm is clearly discernable. On the contrary the tree on the Tell Masaikh impression seems much more stylized and fantastic in its representation. A similar arrangement of figurative elements appears on a fragment of a painted ceramic vessel from Assur datable to the thirteenth century, 23 where a cock is placed on a branch of a stylized tree. Therefore, even this particular kind of composition, on our impression, may reflect a, perhaps uncommon, Middle-Assyrian artistic influence. On the basis of the above considerations, we can conclude that the planning of the scene, of our impression, is closer to the Neo-Assyrian tradition, while a few individual figurative details reflect the strong influence of Middle-Assyrian tradition. If, as has been suggested by Schapiro, the elements of composition should take precedence over individual formal elements in establishing works of art, the sealing from Tell Masaikh is closer to Neo-Assyrian tradition. 24 12.  For a collection of the glyptic variants of the Assyrian tree see Parpola 1993, pp. 200–201; Collon 2001, pp. 83–85. 13.  Beran 1957: 158 Abb. 27 = Matthews1990, no 291. 14.  Matthews 1990: 92. 15.  See Collon 1998: no. 7=Matthews1990 no 322. Collon (1998, p.73), quoting Matthews, attributes the seal to the reign of Adad-nirari I. According to Matthews, in fact, this type of scene with animals and trees does not occur in the fourteenth or in the twelfth centuries. See Matthews1990: 93. 16.  See Porada 1948 no. 601=Matthews1990 no 445. 17.  See Porada 1948: 68–69 18.  See Venit 1986: 14. 19.  Matthews1990: 104 note 178. 20.  See Haller 1954: 135, fig. 161. 21.  J. Aruz 1995: 83 22.  Haller (1954: 135) called the bird “Mandelkrähe.” 23.  See Andrae 1913: pl. 84. 24.  See Schapiro 1953: 289.

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It is not easy to determine the date and place of production of the original seal. We must take into consideration that only the upper part of the artefact is preserved, and that the whole design engraved on the original seal is unknown; nevertheless the assemblage of the composition is quite unusual. The image of the two winged genii which flank the stylized tree seems to be a typical Neo-Assyrian iconography, on the contrary the single details, such as the tree and the bird appear to reflect the influence of a more ancient artistic tradition. It should be remembered that the seal impression was found in a fill of the NA2 phase, which is dated to the second half of the eighth century; evidently the material found inside the fill must predate the end of the eighth century. The sealing closed a container, so it is possible that it was not sealed in Tell Masaikh but in another place, and then transported and opened at the site. In Tell Masaikh Middle -Assyrian levels are not attested, but the most ancient levels of the Assyrian occupations date back to the first half of the ninth century. Therefore, on the basis of the excavation data, the impression cannot be earlier than the first half of the ninth century. Of course, it is not to be excluded that the original cylinder seal was made before the ninth century. It is well known that seals were precious objects and that they were handed down from one generation to the next. The seal can be given a preliminary dating to the twelfth to tenth centuries. The very fine incision of the object and the unusual blend of Neo-Assyrian subject matter and Middle-Assyrian details suggest that the original seal may have been carved in Northern Mesopotamia during the transition between the late Middle -and Early- Neo-Assyrian periods. At the same time, we cannot rule out that the seal was engraved in a later period: namely in the ninth century. In such a case it could be considered a provincial version or a local variant of the classic Neo-Assyrian scene with two winged genii and the stylized tree. It seems that the engraver of the seal adopted and assembled various figurative and stylistic elements of the Middle-Assyrian tradition, whilst following a new kind of composition.

2.  Sealing no MK12 355 (figs. 4, 5) 25 The second piece considered here is another impression of a cylinder seal. Once again, the whole scene is not preserved. The impression shows a very fine design of a standing winged quadruped (a horse or a bull) that adopts the posture with a horizontal body. In front of the composite creature there are traces of another motif, which can not be identified. The two wings of the fantastic animal are represented. Matthews notes that the representation of the winged horse is unusual in the Middle-Assyrian period, 26 while in Neo-Assyrian art this particular iconography, namely a winged horse or bull with a horizontal body, is mainly attested in records engraved in linear style which show hunting scenes; this kind of seal is generally dated to the ninth century. The depiction on the seal impression from Tell Masaikh is not in the linear style, but is, on the contrary, characterized by a modelled style of carving close to the Middle-Assyrian tradition. The body of the winged creature is suggested by fine modelling and not by the heavy musculature that becomes typical in the Neo-Assyrian period. Even the isolation of the figure is a stylistic aspect that seems typical of Middle-Assyrian glyptic. 25.  The sealing measures 2,8 X 3 X 1,2 cm. 26.  See Matthews1992: 203–204.

A Group of Seals and Seal Impressions

295

Fig. 4 (above).  Sealing no MK12 355. Fig. 5 (right).  Drawing from sealing MK12 355.

The representation of the two wings is very unusual, in fact generally only one wing of the composite creature is depicted. Similar images occur on a few Middle-Assyrian records, such as the seal impressions in Berlin, 27 and another impression in the Pierport Morgan Collection. 28 Even though the two representations depict winged lions, and not winged horses or bulls, the general design of the figure is quite similar. The sealing, from Tell Masaikh, originally closed a jar and it was found in a fill of the NA2 phase. We can again point out a similar situation to the example examined previously. It is possible that the original seal was realised in a period between the twelfth and the ninth centuries, or even a little earlier, because the iconography and the style are very close to the Middle-Assyrian artistic tradition.

3.  Seal no MK07 241 (figs. 6, 7) 29 The last example considered in this contribution is a cylinder seal in a composite-material. The lower part of the object is broken so the bottom edge of the representation is lost. The design shows two horned quadrupeds, two goats, flanking a tree. The moon and the Pleiades complete the scene. The image is an uncommon image in the Neo-Assyrian period. Parpola 30 says that: “The flanking animals consist of goats, ibexes, gazelles, and stags, all associated with sexual potency and animal instincts, but also with regeneration. . .. . ..While extremely common in earlier period, they are rare in Late Assyrian representation”. 27.  Beran 1957: 163 Abb. 35 = Matthews1990 no 295. 28.  Porada 1948, no 598 = Matthews1990, no 480. The seal is dated by Matthews (1990: 97) to the thirteenth century but with some reserves. 29.  The seal measures 2,4 X 1,3 cm. 30.  See Parpola 1993: 165, note 24.

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Paola Poli

Fig. 6.  Cylinder seal and modern impression MK07 241.

Fig. 7.  Drawing from cylinder seal MK07 241.

Parpola’s interpretation is also quoted by Collon 31 in her book on the Neo-Assyrian seals at the British Museum. Moreover, it is of a certain interest to note that Collon analysing the seals found in Nimrud, with similar iconographies, does not propose a clear chronological attribution. 32 The seal, from Tell Masaikh, should probably be dated to the Neo-Assyrian period for its unusual iconography of the tree, between the two animals. 33 No such a motif occurs in Middle Assyrian records, while it is much more common on Neo-Assyrian seals. The material of the seal and a few details of the scene, typical of the Neo-Assyrian tradition, therefore suggest a date for the seal around the ninth century, but the subject of the representation is closer to the Middle-Assyrian tradition. This piece can be considered as an artefact with an archaizing iconography. 31.  See Collon 2001, pp. 85–86 32.  See Collon 2001 nos. 183, 186 33.  For this particular variant of the tree see Collon 2001, nos 37+38.

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4. Conclusion In conclusion, only a more precise iconographic and stylistic analysis of the whole collection of the seals and seal impressions from Tell Masaikh will provide a better chronology of the documentation and, perhaps, a better knowledge of the artistic influences which have characterized the Neo-Assyrian colony between the ninth and the seventh centuries. Nevertheless it is possible to propose some preliminary considerations. First of all it is certainly significant that among the whole assemblage of the seals and seal impressions discovered at the site -strongly characterized by the Neo-Assyrian imperial tradition- a few pieces show a clear link with the Middle-Assyrian tradition. The first sealing examined here preserved the impression of a cylinder seal that may have been produced in a period of transition, from the twelfth to the tenth centuries, but was still in use in the ninth and eighth centuries. At the same time we cannot rule out that the artefact was engraved in a later period, in the Neo-Assyrian period. Indeed the depiction reflects a strong link both with the Neo-Assyrian and the Middle-Assyrian traditions. The second sealing seems to be the impression of an older seal, that can be dated to the Middle-Assyrian period, but once again it was still in use in the ninth century. On the contrary the seal is probably an artefact made in Neo-Assyrian period but with an iconography derived from a more ancient figurative repertory. Therefore, these pieces seem to testify to the survival at Tell Masaikh, and perhaps at other sites in the region, of Middle-Assyrian artistic traditions into the Neo-Assyrian period. On the basis of our knowledge, it is difficult to propose an interpretation of this artistic phenomenon which can be considered a sort of “link with the past”. It may be suggested that the craftsmen on the periphery of the Empire were more bound to older figurative iconographic repertoires and styles. But another explanation is also possible: we cannot exclude that this form of “artistic conservatism,” at least for some pieces, could in fact be the expression of the will of the local governors, who already had an independent policy, what could even be called an ideological and cultural autonomy from the Assyrian central power. In the light of this hypothesis, the use in the Neo-Assyrian period of older seals or the assimilation of particular iconographies, clearly a form of archaism, may have had a specific meaning. 34 Obviously, at this point of our study of the glyptic material brought to light at the site of Tell Masaikh, it is certainly difficult to suggest a conclusive hypothesis. At the same time, it must be noted that part of the problem in determining the date 34.  The first impression analysed in this contribution, is certainly a piece of particular interest and importance. Considering the representation, the corresponding seal was an object of a very good quality, probably belonging to a high official close to the royal court and palace. It is possible that the owner chose to adopt, maybe only for a few transactions or for private bureaucracy, iconographies with general NeoAssyrian designs but characterized by the introduction of single motifs and details typical of a previous tradition. The results are very original compositions, different from the classic Neo-Assyrian images, but absolutely Assyrian. Most of the governors were, in fact, of Assyrian origin. On the relationship between this particular iconography and the royal court see Winter 2000. Regarding a possible relationship between the social rank of the seal owner and the image engraved on the seal in Middle-Assyrian time see Feller 2010, pp. 721–729.

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and place of production of this seal, group, and consequently its cultural meanings is the lack of dated Assyrian seals between the late Middle and Neo-Assyrian periods or between the reigns of Tiglath-pileser I (1114–1076) and Assurnasirpal II (883–859).

References Andrae, W. 1913 Die Festungswerke von Assur. Wissenschaftliche Veröffentlichung der Deutschen Orient -Gesellschaft 23. Leipzig: Hinsichs. Aruz, J. 1995 Card Catalogue no. 45. Pp. 85–86 in Assyrian Origins. Discoveries at Ashur on the Tigris. Edited by P. O. Harper, E. Klengel-Brandt, J. Aruz and K. Benzel. New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Beran, T. 1957 Assyrische Glyptik des 14. Jahrhunderts. ZA 52: 141–215. Collon, D. 1998 Some Cylinder Seals from Tell Mohammed Arab. Iraq 50: 59–77. 2001 Catalogue of the Western Asiatic Seals in the British Museum–Cylinder Seals V. Neo-Assyrian and Neo-Babylonian Periods. London: British Museum Publications. Feller, B. 2010 Seal Images and Social Status: Sealings on Middle Assyrian Tablets from Ashur. Pp. 721– 729 in vol. 1 of Proceedings of the 6 th International Congress on the Archaeology of the Ancient Near East, University La Sapienza, Rome 5th-10th May 2008. Edited by P. Matthiae, F. Pinnock, L. Nigro, M. Marchetti. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag. Giovino, M. 2007 The Assyrian Sacred Tree. A Hystory of Interpretations. Orbis Biblicus et Orientalis 230. Fribourg: Academic Press; Gottingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Haller, A. 1954 Die Gräber und Grüfte von Assur. Wissenschaftliche Veröffentlichung der Deutschen Orient -Gesellschaft 55. Berlin: Mann. Labert, W. G. 1979 Near Eastern seals in the Gulbenkian Museum of Oriental Art, University of Durham. Iraq 41: 1–45. Marcus, M. I. 1996 Emblems of Identity and Prestige: The Seals and Sealings from Hasanlu, Iran, Commentary and Catalogue. University Museum Monograph 84, Hasanlu Special Studies III. Philadelphia, PA. Masetti-Rouault, M. G. in press (a)  Tell Masaikh: les niveaux neo-assyriens in Proceedings of the Third International Congress on the Archaeology of the Ancient Near East, Paris 15 th–19 th April 2002. in press (b)  Rapport préliminaire concernant les travaux de la mission française à Tell Masaikh, 13 septembre–10 novembre 2006. Akh Purattim 3. Masetti-Rouault, M. G. and Salmon, S. 2010 The Neo-Assyrian Colony of Tell Masaikh, in the Syrian Lower Middle Euphrates Valley and its region: a Report about the last excavations. Pp. 385–396 in vol. 2 of Proceedings of the 6th International Congress on the Archaeology of the Ancient Near East, University La Sapienza, Rome 5th–10th May 2008. Edited by P. Matthiae, F. Pinnock, L. Nigro, M. Marchetti. Wiesbaden: Harrassowiz Verlag. Matthews, D. M. 1990 Principles of Composition in Near Eastern Glyptic of the Later 2nd Millennium. Orbis Biblicus et Orientalis 8. Fribourg (Switzerland) and Göttingen.

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1992 The Random Pegasus: Loss of Meaning in Middle Assyrian Seals. Cambridge Archaeological Journal 2(2): 191–210 Parpola S., 1993 The Assyrian Tree of Life: Tracing the origins of Jewish monotheism and Greek philosophy. JNES 52: 161–208. Poli, P. 2003 I materiali provenienti dai cantieri D, E, F di Tell Masaikh. Pp. 575–583 in Progetto Terqa e la sua regione (Siria). Rapporto preliminare 2002. Athenaeum. Studi di Letteratura e Storia dell’Antichità 91/2. Edited by O. Rouault and C. Mora. 2005 I materiali provenienti da Terqa, cantiere F, e da Tell Masaikh, cantieri D e F. Pp. 675– 682 in Progetto Terqa e la sua regione (Siria). Rapporto preliminare 2004. Athenaeum. Studi di Letteratura e Storia dell’Antichità 93/2. Edited by O. Rouault and C. Mora. 2010 The Neo-Assyrian Glyptic from Tell Masaikh: preliminary Resultes. Pp. 961–972 in vol. 1 of Proceedings of the 6th International Congress on the Archaeology of the Ancient Near East, University La Sapienza, Rome 5th-10th May 2008. Edited by P. Matthiae, F. Pinnock, L. Nigro, M. Marchetti. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag. Porada, E. 1948 Corpus of Near Eastern Seals in North American Collections I. The Pierpont Morgan Library Collection. The Bollingen Series 14. Washington, D.C. Porter, B. 1993 Sacred Trees, Date Palms, and the Royal Persona of Ashurnasirpal II. JNES 52: 129–139. Schapiro, M. 1953 Style. Pp. 287–312 in Anthropology Today. Edited by A. L. Kroeber. Chicago: University Press of Chigago. Streck, M. P. 1988–2001 Nergal-ēreš. Reallexikon der Assyriologie 9: 227–228 Teissier, B. 1984 Ancient Near Eastern Cylinders from the Marcopoli Collection. Berkeley-Los AngelesNew York: University of California Press. Venit, M. S. 1986 Toward a definition of Middle Assyrian style. Akkadica 50: 1–21. Winter, I. J. 2000 Le Palais imaginaire: Scale and Meaning in the Iconography of Neo-Assyrian Cylinder Seals. Pp 51–87 in Images as Media, Sources for the Cultural History of the Near East and the Eastern Mediterranean (1st millennium BCE). OBO Orbis Biblicus et Orientalis 175. Edited by Uehlinger. Ch. Fribourg and Göttingen: Universitätsverlag and Vandenhoeck und Ruprecht.

Spätbabylonische Urkunden: Original, Kopie, Abschrift Jürgen Lorenz Marburg

In den neubabylonischen Privatarchiven aus der Mitte des 1. Jahrtausends v.u.Z. sind eine ganze Anzahl von Wirtschafts- und Rechtsurkunden belegt, die in mehr als einem Exemplar überliefert sind. Die meisten dieser Archive sind über den Kunsthandel in die Museen und Privatsammlungen gekommen, wobei Art und Anzahl der Tafeln nie dokumentiert wurde. Doch gibt es Beispiele von Archiven aus regulären Grabungen, die bestätigen, dass es durchaus üblich war, von einigen Urkunden mehr als ein Exemplar am selben Ort aufzubewahren. Dabei ist zu unterscheiden zwischen Originalen, die vom selben Schreiber oder auch von verschiedenen Schreibern ausgestellt wurden und von wohl meist im Nachhinein angefertigten Abschriften. Beide Vorgehensweisen sind in den Urkundentexten gut belegt. Sicher als Abschriften identifizieren lassen sich Urkunden, wenn im Text Vermerke über abgebrochene Stellen stehen, wenn Siegelbeischriften aber keine Siegel vorhanden sind oder wenn der Urkundentext Teil einer Sammelurkunde ist. Auch Urkunden, die Vermerke über Nagelmarken tragen, auf denen solche aber nicht vorhanden sind, sind als Abschriften anzusprechen. Da sich andererseits aber nicht erweisen lässt, dass auf der Tafel vorhandene Nagelmarken Zeichen für eine Originalurkunde sind, wird im Folgenden auf diese Art von Urkunden nicht weiter eingegangen. 1 Neben gesiegelten Duplikaten von Urkunden, die durch den selben Schreiber oder auch durch verschiedene Schreiber ausgestellt sind, finden sich ungesiegelte Abschriften von gesiegelten Urkunden und von manchen haben wir nur ungesiegelte Belege, diese aber gleich mehrfach. 2 Während es bei potentiell gesiegelten Urkunden einfach ist, ein Original von einer Abschrift zu unterscheiden, ist das bei anderen Urkundentypen, solange sich im Text keine Vermerke über zerstörte Stellen finden, nahezu ausgeschlossen. In der Chaldäerzeit werden in der Regel nur die Originale von Immobilienkäufen und 1.  So hat OECT 10.394 sowohl einen ḫēpi-Vermerk als auch Nagelmarken. Auch bei AuOr 15.14 findet man Nagelmarken auf dem Rand, obwohl die Urkunde durch mehrere ḫēpi-Einträge klar als Abschrift identifiziert werden kann. Vgl. dazu Wunsch (1997: 166). 2. Wunsch & Baker (2001: 203 mit Anm. 20) geben sowohl Beispiele von Urkunden, bei denen mehrere gesiegelte Duplikate vorliegen als auch von solchen, wo neben gesiegelten Exemplaren auch ungesiegelte Tafeln erhalten sind. Ein Beispiel, bei dem nur ungesiegelte Exemplare überliefert sind, ist Dar 26 und BM 34137+. S. dazu Wunsch (2000: 210ff.).

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Gerichtsurkunden gesiegelt, so dass sich beispielsweise bei Verpflichtungsscheinen die Originale rein äußerlich nicht von den Abschriften unterscheiden. Bei Abschriften ist die Absicht zu erkennen, die Tafeln textgenau wiederzugeben, wenn auch nicht immer mit denselben Zeichen und derselben Zeilenverteilung. Das hatte zur Folge, dass auch der Schreibername der Originalurkunde abgeschrieben wurde, d.h. es gibt zahlreiche Fälle, in denen uns Duplikate mit denselben Schreibernamen aber verschiedenen Handschriften vorliegen. 3 War die Vorlage zerstört, schrieb man nur den erhaltenen Text ab und machte die Vermerke ḫēpi (zerstört) bzw. ḫēpi eššu (neu zerstört), um die auf der Vorlage unlesbaren Stellen zu kennzeichnen oder man ließ die entsprechenden Zeichen im Text aus. 4 Mitunter wurden Urkunden abgeschrieben, bei denen große Teile verloren waren. So liegt mit TMH 2–3.17 ein Immobilienkauf vor, bei dem auf der Vorderseite fast die komplette Beschreibung des Objekts verloren ist und auf der Rückseite kein Zeugenname vollständig ist und sowohl Angaben zum Schreiber als auch das Datum fehlen. Schon für das 8. und 7. Jhd. sind mit den Vermerken ḫēpi und ḫēpi eššu versehene Abschriften von Urkunden gut belegt. 5 Ganz überwiegend handelt es sich dabei um nach dem Immobilienformular abgefasste Texte. Da sie verschiedentlich zur ältesten Schicht der Urkunden in den Archiven gehören, dürfte die für sie gemachte Annahme zutreffen, es handele sich um Retroakten. 6 Urkunden mit ḫēpi oder ḫēpi eššu-Vermerken sind aus ganz Babylonien bis in die Regierungszeit des Darius I belegt. Urkunden aus der Chaldäer- und Achämenidenzeit, die ḫēpi oder ḫēpi eššu-Vermerke tragen: BA 2.10 7 OECT 12 F6 OECT 10.17 BM 43146+ 8 Nbk 51 Nbk 69 10 OECT 10.52 TCL 12.33 BM 5.17 IV 1–11 11 VS 5.8 Nbk 247 Nbk 251

Vermögensübertragung Verpflichtungsschein Ḫarranu-Vertrag Pfründenkauf Ḫarrānu-Vertrag Verpflichtungsschein Quittung Immobilienkauf Verpflichtungsschein Immobilienkauf Pfründenübertragung Vermögensübertragung

Babylon Borsippa Hursagkalamma [Sippar] Babylon Babylon Babylon Uruk Uruk Babylon Babylon Babylon

Npl 21/II/7 Npl 23/VII/9 Npl 14/VIII/12 [Npl/Nbk] -/I/- 9 Nbk 26/V/6 Nbk 27/X/8 Nbk 25/X/11 Nbk 11/VI/12 Nbk 17/VII/12 Nbk 19/III/19 Nbk 29/IV/32 Nbk 18/XI/32

3.  Vgl. beispielsweise Hunger (1970: 197) zu den unterschiedlichen Handschriften der Duplikate BaM 5.21 und 22. Zu den Handschriften des Bēl-rēmanni-Archivs s. Jursa (1999: 13f., 22ff.). 4.  In BaM 5.4 (Ššu 19/-/-) werden beispielsweise beide Vorgehensweisen parallel benutzt. Während in den Zeilen 23 und 27 unvollständige Namen der Zeugenliste mit ḫēpi markiert werden, fehlen der Schreibername und die Monats- und Jahresangabe im Datum ohne weitere Kennzeichnung. 5.  Vgl. z.B. VS 5.5 (Kan 19/IX/-), TCL 12.9 (Ššu 19/IX/-) und OECT 10.392 (Bēl-ibni 29/IX/2). 6.  Zum Begriff der Retroakte und zum Auftreten entsprechender Urkunden in den Archiven vgl. Wunsch (1993: 3). 7.  Die Urkunde liegt in insgesamt vier Exemplaren vor. S. Wunsch (2003: 43ff.). 8.  Veröffentlicht von Jursa (1999: 225ff., Tafel LV). 9.  Zur zeitlichen Einordnung vgl. Jursa (1999: 226f.). 10.  BM 30775 von Strassmaier als Nbk 69 unter Hinweis auf das Duplikat BM 31017 veröffentlicht. 11.  BM 5.17 ist eine Sammeltafel von Verpflichtungsscheinen, von denen nur der auf Rs. IV 1–11 abgeschriebene einen Vermerk über eine Beschädigung enthält.

Spätbabylonische Urkunden: Original, Kopie, Abschrift Nbk 403 Vermögensübertragung BM 49752 12 Ḫarrānu-Vertrag x+1 Ner 45 Miete Vermögensübertragung Nbn 75 Nbn 212 Sklavenkauf BA 2.15 Vermögensübertragung Ausbildungsvertrag Nbn 475 Cyr 312 Gerichtsurkunde Verpflichtungsschein VS 4.201 TCL 13.174 Vermögensübertragung Aussageprotokoll TCL 13.181 BM 42412 14 Pfründendienstvertrag Dar 323 Immobilienkauf Dar 395 Ḫarrānu-Vertrag VS 5.79 Immobilienkauf BM 42434 Verpflichtungsschein BM 42343+ 16 Pfründenkauf AUWE 13.312 Pfründenkauf

303

Babylon Sippar

Nbk 23/VI/42 [Npl/Nbk] -/IX/

Babylon Borsippa Babylon Borsippa Babylon Babylon [Babylon] Borsippa Uruk Sippar Babylon Babylon Borsippa Sippar Sippar [Uruk]

Ner 9/IX/2 Nbn -/VII/2 Nbn 25/XI/5 Nbn 10/XII/9 Nbn 20/XI/10 Cyr 11/V/8 [Cyr] 20+x/XI/- 13 Camb 23/XII/6 Dar 6/VI/2 Dar 11/III/8 Dar 24/II/12 Dar 3?/-/14 Dar 5/VIII/14+x Dar 20/VIII/- 15 [Dar] [Dar] 17

Für die spätere Achämenidenzeit gibt es keine Beispiele mehr, was sicher auf eine geänderte Beurkundungspraxis ab etwa der Mitte der Regierungszeit des Darius I zurückzuführen ist. 18 Abgeschrieben von beschädigten Vorlagen wurden aber nicht nur Urkunden, die man mitunter noch Jahrzehnte später vorweisen musste, wie die Immobilienkaufverträge, sondern auch beispielsweise Verpflichtungsscheine, die eine relativ kurze Gültigkeit hatten. Noch deutlicher wird dies, wenn man nur die Urkunden aus der Chaldäer- und Achämenidenzeit betrachtet, die ausschließlich ḫēpi eššu-Vermerke tragen oder diese zusätzlich zu einfachen ḫēpi-Vermerken haben. BA 2.10 Nbk 69 TCL 12.33 Nbn 75 Nbn 212 BM 42434

Vermögensübertragung Verpflichtungsschein Immobilienkauf Vermögensübertragung Sklavenkauf Verpflichtungsschein

Babylon Npl 21/II/7 Babylon Nbk 27/X/8 Uruk Nbk 11/VI/12 Borsippa Nbn -/VII/2 Babylon Nbn 25/XI/5 Sippar Dar 20/VIII/-

3 oder 4 Exemplare 19 2 Exemplare

3 Exemplare

12.  Der Text ist von MacGinnis (1994: 120f.) veröffentlicht. Zum Archivzusamenhang und zur Datierung des Textes s. Jursa (2003: 122). 13. Die Herkunft und Datierung von VS 4.201 werden durch VS 5.35 (Cyr 28/XI/1) nahegelegt, einer Urkunde, die vom selben Schreiber geschrieben wurde und deren Zeugenliste auch zwei der Zeugen von VS 4.201 aufführt. 14.  Das von Jursa (1999: 180f., Tafel XXX) veröffentlichte Duplikat BM 42424 enthält, wenn auch im beschädigten Zustand, die in BM 42412: 6 als zerstört gekennzeichnete Stelle. 15.  Veröffentlicht von Jursa (1999: 184f., Tafel XXXII). Duplikate zu diesem Text sind VS 4.201 und das unveröffentlichte BM 42609+43783, das nach Jursa (1999: 184) ḫēpi eššu Vermerke auf der Rückseite trägt. 16.  Der Text ist von Jursa (1999: 144ff., Tafel XI) veröffentlicht. Von ihm stammt auch die zeitliche Einordnung der Urkunde. 17.  Zu gegenüber von Weiher (1998: 128f.) verbesserten Lesungen und zur Datierung s. Kessler (2003: 253). 18.  Vgl. dazu Baker & Wunsch (2001: 203) und Lorenz 2012. 19.  Zwei der erhaltenen Stücke könnten nach Wunsch (2003: 46) zur selben Tafel gehören.

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Unter diesen sechs Urkunden sind allein 2 Verpflichtungsscheine und ein Sklavenkauf, Tafeln also, die man nicht für Generationen archivierte. Desweiteren fällt auf, dass von den 6 Urkunden 3 in mehr als einem Exemplar überliefert sind. Dies ist umso bemerkenswerter, als von den übrigen 23 Urkunden aus der Chaldäer- und Achämenidenzeit, die nur ḫēpi-Vermerke tragen, gerade einmal zwei (Nbk 247 und BM 42412) in mehr als einem Exemplar auf uns gekommen sind. Wie ist diese Diskrepanz zu erklären? Schon der Ausdruck ḫēpi eššu legt nahe, dass die Tafel nicht einfach verwittert ist, sondern suggeriert vielmehr eine dramatische Situation: Die Urkunde fällt herunter und der Text ist teilweise zerstört. Die Aufregung ist groß und man versucht zu retten, was noch zu retten ist. Und so wie jeder, der gerade eine wichtige Datei auf seinem Computer verloren hat, zwei oder drei Sicherheitskopien zieht, so haben die Babyloniern die kaputte Tafel gleich zwei- oder dreimal abgeschrieben. Doch warum wurden selbst leicht zu ergänzende Formularbestandteile nicht vervollständigt? Hatte der babylonische Schreiber, der eine solche Urkunde abschrieb, Angst davor Urkundenfälschung zu begehen? Die Reihenfolge Urkundenbeweis, Schreiber- und Zeugenbefragung und beeidete Aussage ist durch die Gerichtsurkunden gut belegt. 20 Es stellt sich aber die Frage, welchen juristischen Stellenwert eine Tafel als solche hatte, besonders wenn sie ungesiegelt war. Schon Joannès (1987) hat diese Frage beispielsweise für die von einer Vertragspartei geschriebene Teilungsurkunde VS 20.86 gestellt. Nicht nur, dass VS 20.86 von einem der Vertragspartner geschrieben wurde, gegenüber dem von einem externen Schreiber geschriebenen Quasiduplikat YOS 17.348 weist es zudem eine verkürzte Zeugenliste auf. Ist YOS 17.348 die offiziell ausgestellte Urkunde und VS 20.86 die private Abschrift oder ist VS 20.86 die zuerst ausgefertigte Tafel und wurde YOS 17.348 unter Hinzuziehung eines zusätzlichen Zeugen durch einen externen Schreiber später ausgestellt, weil man den Eindruck hatte, dass VS 20.86 im Streitfall nicht genügend Beweiskraft hätte? Zeugen konnten nachträglich in die Bezeugung einer Urkunde aufgenommen werden, was durch die Ausstellung separater Zeugenbeitrittsurkunden belegt ist 21 und es gibt mehr als einen Fall, in dem eine der Vertragsparteien zugleich Schreiber der Urkunde war. 22 War YOS 17.348 aufgrund des externen Schreibers und des zusätzlichen Zeugen “originaler” oder “gültiger” als VS 20.86? Auf Verpflichtungsscheine übertragen heißt das: war ein solcher eher ein Protokoll über einen juristischen Sachverhalt oder repräsentierte er die Forderung an sich und war prinzipiell unabhängig von der Person des Inhabers? Im ersten Fall, wenn er nur schriftlicher Ausdruck einer Verpflichtung einer Person A gegenüber einer Person B war, bedeutete das Kopieren einer solchen Tafel das Herstellen eines zusätzlichen Protokolls und war rechtlich irrelevant. Im zweiten Fall aber, wenn der Verpflichtungsschein an sich die Forderung repräsentierte, also eine ähnliche Funktion wie ein moderner Wechsel oder eine Namensschuldver20.  So wird beispielsweise in dem durch BM 77425 beurkundeten Prozess verfahren. S. dazu Wunsch (2003: 150–155). 21.  Solche Urkunden sind z.B. in Nbn 903 und AuOr 15.19. 22.  Vgl. die von Wunsch (1993: 73 mit Anm. 278) für die Urkunden des Iddin-Marduk angeführten Texte.

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schreibung mit Blankoindossament hatte, bedeutete das Abschreiben einer solchen Urkunde potentiell das Herstellen einer weiteren Forderung. Die Dokumentation spricht eher für die zweite Variante. In VS 5.47 übergibt ein Mann neben Verpflichtungsscheinen, die auf seinen Namen lauten auch einen solchen, der auf seine Frau ausgestellt wurde 23 und im Nabû-ušallim-Archiv aus Uruk sind auch Verpflichtungsscheine aufgetaucht, in denen weder Schuldner noch Gläubiger in irgendeinem nachweisbaren Zusammenhang mit den Archivinhabern standen. 24 Im Allgemeinen dürften die Verpflichtungsscheine aber in der Familie des ursprünglichen Gläubigers geblieben sein. Wenn die Schuld beglichen war, wurde über die Rückzahlung eine Quittung ausgestellt und der Verpflichtungsschein nebst eventuell vorhandenen Kopien zurückgegeben. Falls der Verpflichtungsschein nicht mehr vorhanden war, als die Schuld zurückgezahlt wurde, wurde in die Quittung oder andere relevante Dokumente ein Passus aufgenommen, dass er beim Auffinden zurückzugeben oder als ungültig anzusehen sei. 25 Bei Kopien von Verpflichtungsscheinen im Archiv des Gläubigers handelt es sich also um gültige Dokumente, im Gegensatz zu denen im Archiv des Schuldners, die im Normalfall entweder als Dokumentation der eigenen Schuld oder als zurückgegebene Originale und deren Kopien anzusehen sind. Selbst wenn wir beispielweise das Bēl-rēmanni Archiv aus Sippar in situ gefunden hätten, könnten wir nicht mit Bestimmtheit sagen, wo die 6 Exemplare des Verpflichtungsscheins VS 3.138 26 mit Duplikaten, die zulasten des Bēl-rēmanni ausgestellt sind, geschrieben wurden. In der Familie des ursprünglichen Gläubigers als zusätzliche Nachweise der Schuld oder in der Familie des Bēl-rēmanni um die Schuld zu dokumentieren oder als Übungen für angehende Schreiber nach der Begleichung derselben. Gerade für das Bēl-rēmanni Archiv geht sein Bearbeiter M. Jursa angesichts der großen Anzahl von Tafeln, die typische Abschreibefehler enthalten und auch sonst auf ungeübte Schreiber hinweisen und angesichts eines medizinischen Parallelarchivs m. E. zu Recht von einem hohen Prozentsatz von Übungstafeln aus. Er verweist dabei auch auf den im Vergleich zu anderen Archiven hohen Anteil von Duplikaten. 27 Sieht man sich die 24 Texte des Archivs, die in mehr als einem Exemplar vorliegen, genauer an, fällt auf, dass genau die Hälfte Verpflichtungsscheine sind, in denen Bēl-rēmanni auch immer als Schuldner genannt ist. 28 Diese Verpflichtungsscheine waren rechtlich nicht mehr relevant, da sie offenbar zurückgezahlt waren und konnten deshalb problemlos von den Schreiberschülern kopiert werden. Doch ist mit Sicherheit nicht jede Kopie oder nachträgliche Abschrift als Schreibübung anzusehen.

23.  Vgl. Baker (2004: 113f.). 24.  Zur Zusammensetzung des Nabû-ušallim-Archiv vgl. Hunger (1970). 25.  Vgl. beispielsweise die Formulierungen in Nbn 122: 6–9 oder auch die Klageverzichtsurkunde VS 6.51. 26.  Zu dieser Urkunde mit ihren Duplikaten s. Jursa (1999: 168). 27.  S. Jursa (1999: 26ff.). 28.  S. die Liste der Duplikate im Archiv bei Jursa (1999: 13f.).

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Bei einer offenen Schuld wird auch der Schuldner von Anfang an mindestens eine Urkunde in der Hand gehabt haben, anhand derer er seine Verpflichtung nachlesen und termingerecht erfüllen konnte. Der seit der Mitte der Chaldäerzeit meist auf Quittungen (und anderen Urkunden, die den augenblicklichen Stand eines Geschäftsvorgangs dokumentieren) vorkommende Vermerk “jeweils ein Exemplar haben sie genommen” spiegelt die Praxis wider, jeder der beteiligten Parteien eine Urkunde auszustellen. 29 Interessant dabei ist, dass bei Benennung des Urkundentyps meist von šaṭaru “Schriftstück” seltener von GÍD.DA “Quittung, Kontoauszug” 30 und nur in Borsippa und einmal in Dilbat auch von gabrû “Abschrift, Kopie” die Rede ist. 31 Da sich die erwähnte Klausel gelegentlich auch auf anderen Urkundentypen findet, wie beispielsweise den Heiratsverträgen, tauchen sehr selten auch noch andere Bezeichnungen wie IMDUB “(gesiegelte) Vertragstafel” 32 auf. Bei der eben erwähnten gabrû “Kopie, Abschrift” handelt es sich sicher nicht um ein rechtlich irrelevantes Schriftstück, sonst hätte man es im Urkundentext nicht erwähnt. Wenn in den neubabylonischen Texten von gabrû “Kopie” die Rede ist, geht es immer um ein physisches Schriftstück und es ist nicht der Text inhaltlich gemeint. Es erstaunt deshalb auch nicht, dass gabrû in Kombination mit allen gängigen Urkundentypen vorkommt, sich aber andererseits keine Belege nachweisen lassen, in denen es mit rašutu “Guthaben”, riksu “Vertrag” oder auch mit šaṭaru “Schriftstück” kombiniert wäre. Zwar werden die Termini riksu und šaṭaru in einigen Fällen offenbar auch in Bezug auf physische Tafeln gebraucht, meist aber werden sie ähnlich wie rašutu “Guthaben” rein auf den Textinhalt bezogen verwendet. Die regelmäßige Erwähnung von Kopien in den Klauseln, wenn es darum geht, Urkunden für ungültig zu erklären, zeigt, dass diese durchaus Rechtskraft besaßen. BM 33342: 9–13 33 . . . lu-ú ú-ìl-tì lu-ú gab-ri ú-ìl-tì lu-ú GÍD.DA lu-ú šá-ṭa-ri šá mim-ma ra-šu-t[u gab-bi šá ina É md+EN.DÙ-šú a-na UGU-ḫi md+ EN.ŠU.MIN-ul-še-li te-el-la-a e-ṭ[ir-tum ši-i “Sei es ein Verpflichtungsschein oder die Kopie eines Verpflichtungsscheines oder ein Kontoauszug oder ein Schriftstück über irgendein Guthaben, das im Haus des Bēl-īpušu zulasten des Bēl-qāte-ulšeli auftaucht, das ist bezahlt.”

Gerade bei Immobiliengeschäften finden sich immer wieder Passagen, die die Übergabe von Urkunden beinhalten. 34 Waren die Orginalurkunden nicht mehr vorhan29.  Vgl. dazu Lorenz (2008: 105 mit Anm. 535). 30.  Im Allgemeinen wird GÍD.DA im Neubabylonischen giṭṭu gelesen und mit “Quittung” übersetzt. Allerdings werden in den Urkunden dieses Typs nicht nur erbrachte Leistungen quittiert, sondern es werden auch regelmäßig noch zu erbringende Leistungen aufgezählt, so dass eher eine komprimierte Gesamtdarstellung einer Geschäftsbeziehung aufgezeichnet wurde. Das Konzept des Auszuges findet sich auch bei den als IM.GÍD.DA mit der Lesung liginnu bezeichneten literarischen Exzerpttafeln. Zu diesen s. Beaulieu (1992: 103). 31.  Zu den verschiedenen Dokumenttypen und ihren Bezeichnungen s. Baker (2003). 32.  BM 61434(+) Rs. 8’. S. Roth (1989: 64ff.). 33.  Publiziert und bearbeitet durch Stolper (1983: 233ff.). 34. So z.B. in der Tauschurkunde VS 5.18, in der vereinbart wird auch die Besitzurkunden auszutauschen.

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den, wurden stattdessen Kopien übergeben. 35 Solche Kopien finden auch in den Prozessen Beachtung. Dass Schreiber deshalb im Allgemeinen vorsichtig sein sollten mit dem, was sie schrieben oder abschrieben, zeigt die Prozessurkunde Nbn 720+ mit Duplikat TCL 13.219. Zwei Brüder versuchen einen gefälschten Verpflichtungsschein mit Pfandbestellung zu verkaufen. Als das misslingt, zerbeißt einer der Brüder die Urkunde mit den Zähnen, um den Beweis zu vernichten. Vor Gericht verwickeln sich die beiden aber in Widersprüche und werden zu einer Geldbuße verurteilt. Darüber hinaus steht folgendes in der Urkunde: Nbn 720 Rs. 31f. 36 . . . u a-na a-ba-ku šá DUB.SA[R] šá-ṭir ú-il-ti iz-qa-a-ti id-du-šú-ma. . . “Und zwecks Herbeiführung des Schreibers, der die Urkunde geschrieben hatte, legten sie sie in Fesseln. . .” 37

Was mit dem Schreiber passierte, ist nicht überliefert, es wird aber nicht sehr positiv für ihn gewesen sein. Die Beleglage spricht eindeutig dafür, dass Urkunden nicht nur als Protokolle eines rechtlichen Vorganges gesehen wurden, sondern im Falle beispielsweise der Verpflichtungsscheine die Forderung an sich darstellten, die man deshalb auch an Dritte weitergeben konnte. Eine Kopie eines solchen Verpflichtungsscheines stellte damit eine genauso rechtsgültige Forderung dar wie ein Original. Auch Schreiberschüler hatten deshalb allen Grund zur Vorsicht. Ob deshalb so wenige Beispiele von Urkundenformularen auf Schultafeln bekannt sind, lässt sich allerdings nicht sagen. 38 Doch nicht nur das Kopieren von privatrechtlichen Urkunden ist belegt, auch für das Anfertigen von Abschriften anderer Texte finden sich in den Archiven Belege. Eine Kopie konnte in einem solchen Fall dann auch als Schriftstück bezeichnet werden: VS 4.39 Vs. 1–6 11 1/2 GÍN KÙ.BABBAR NÍG.BA šá a-su-mit-ti md+AG.KAR A-šú šá mGAR.MU ma-la HA.LA-šú a-na mDUB.NUMUN it-ta-din u mDUB.NUMUN šá-ṭa-ru gab-ri a-su-mit-ti ki-i iš-ṭur-ru a-na md+AG.KAR-ir it-ta-din “11 ½ Šekel Silber das Geschenk für die Steininschrift hat Nabû-ēṭir Sohn des Šākin-šumi, soviel sein Anteil beträgt, dem Šāpik-Zēri gegeben und Šāpik-Zēri hat ein Schriftstück, eine Kopie der Steininschrift geschrieben und sie dem Nabûēṭir gegeben.” 35.  VS 6.120 ist eine terminierte Verpflichtung eine Originalurkunde zu übergeben. Falls dies nicht möglich ist, soll nach Ablegung eines Schwurs eine Kopie übergeben werden. S. dazu Joannès (1990: 7f.). In BM 77345: 11–13 werden Kopien der Prozessurkunden nach Erfüllung der gerichtlichen Auflagen übergeben. S. Joannès (1996: 56.). 36.  Die Urkunde ist von Wunsch (2000: 114–116) zusammen mit den von ihr neu gejointen Stücken und zusammen mit dem Duplikat TCL 13.219 bearbeitet. 37.  S. Wunsch (2000: 116). 38.  Ein Beispiel ist BM 66597, auf dem neben einem Verpflichtungsschein auch Reste von Syllabaren erhalten sind. S. dazu Gesche (2000: 513).

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Allem Anschein nach handelt es sich hier um eine Auftragsarbeit zur Abschrift einer Steininschrift aus eher “wissenschaftlichem” Interesse. Im Gegensatz zu den privatrechtlichen Urkunden sind Duplikate von Verwaltungstafeln aus den Tempelarchiven äußerst selten und man hat auch so gut wie keine Belege für Tafeln mit ḫēpi Vermerken. Dass es sie nichtsdestoweniger gegeben hat, zeigen Texte wie VS 4.7 und Cyr 244, die beide dem Archiv des Ebbartempel in Sippar zuzurechnen sind. Auch CT 56.400 könnte ein solcher Text sein. Der Hauptteil der Kopiertätigkeit in den Tempeln bestand aber vermutlich weniger darin, Zweitschriften von einzelnen Tafeln anzufertigen, als vielmehr darin, Texte zusammenzufassen und Abrechnungslisten wie beispielsweise Cyr 244 zu erstellen, wobei die ḫēpi-Vermerke auf beschädigte Einzelabrechnungen zurückzuführen sind, die deshalb nur unvollständig in die Zusammenfassung aufgenommen werden konnten. 39 Interessant für das Verständnis der Abschreibepraxis im Tempel ist auch BM 77834, eine administrative Liste, 40 deren Rückseite nach dem Datum wie folgt lautet: BM 77834 Rs. 19–21 ki-i pi-i gab-ri NA4KIŠIB šá mbul-lu-ṭu A mdbu-ne-ne-⸢ib⸣-ni LÚ SANGA sip-par “Gemäß dem Wortlaut der Kopie der gesiegelten Tafel des Bulluṭu, Familie Bunene-ibni, dem šangû Sippar.”

Hier haben wir sogar einen Beleg für die Abschrift einer Abschrift. Doch nicht immer lässt sich ein Zusammenhang zwischen der Abschrift einer Urkunde und der Verwaltungspraxis im Tempel herleiten. In diesem Zusammenhang sei auf Ner 13 hingewiesen, eine Heiratsurkunde zwischen dem šatammu des Ezida und der Gigītum, der Tochter des regierenden Königs Neriglissar. Auf der Urkunde, von der nur der Anfang und das Ende erhalten ist, findet sich nach dem Datum der Vermerk gab-ri é-zi-da “Kopie des Ezida”. Das kann eigentlich nichts anderes bedeuten, als dass für das Tempelarchiv eine Abschrift der Heiratsurkunde angefertigt und darin aufbewahrt wurde. Zu welchem Zweck das geschah, entzieht sich unserer Kenntnis. Von einem Vorläufer heutiger Personalakten zu sprechen, ist wohl etwas zu gewagt. 39.  S. dazu Jursa (1995: 158 mit Anm. 318). 40.  Zum Text siehe Bongenaar (1997: 153ff.).

References Baker, H. D. 2003 Record-Keeping Practices as Revealed by the Neo-Babylonian Private Archival Documents. Pp.  241–263 in Ancient Archives and Archival Traditions. Concepts of RecordKeeping in the Ancient World. Edited by M. Brosius. Oxford: University Press. 2004 The Archive of the Nappāḫu Family. Archiv für Orientforschung. Beiheft 30. Wien: Institut für Orientalistik. Baker, H. D., and Wunsch, C. 2001 Neo-Babylonian Notaries and Their Use of Seals. Pp. 197–213 in Proceedings of the XLVe Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale. Part II. Yale University. Seals and Seal Impressions. Edited by W. W. Hallo & I. J. Winter. Bethesda: CDL Press.

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Beaulieu, P.-A. 1992 New Light on Secret Knowledge in Late Babylonian Culture. ZA 82: 98–111. Bongenaar, A. C. V. M. 1997 The Neo-Babylonian Ebabbar Temple at Sippar: Its Administration and its Prosopography. PIHANS LXXX. Leiden: Nederlands Instituut vor het Nabije Oosten. Gesche, P. D. 2000 Schulunterricht in Babylonien im ersten Jahrtausend v. Chr. Münster: Ugarit-Verlag. Hunger, H. 1970 Das Archiv des Nabû-ušallim. BaM 5: 193–304. Joannès, F. 1987 Une copie privée d‘acte juridique. NABU 86: 45–46. 1990 Cadastre et titres de propriété en Babylonie achéménide. NABU 10: 7–8. 1996 Textes judiciaires néo-babyloniens, collation et réédition. NABU 66: 56–58. Jursa, M. 1995 Die Landwirtschaft in Sippar in neubabylonischer Zeit. Archiv für Orientforschung. Beiheft 25. Wien: Institut für Orientalistik. 1999 Das Archiv des Bēl-rēmanni. PIHANS LXXXVI. Leiden: Nederlands Instituut vor het Nabije Oosten. 2003 Neo-Babylonian Legal and Administrative Documents. Guides to the Mesopotamian Textual Record. Vol. I. Münster: Ugarit-Verlag. Kessler, K. 2003 Achämenidenzeitliches Archiv W 23293 aus U 18. BaM 34: 235–263. Lorenz, J. 2008 Nebukadnezar III/IV. Die politischen Wirren nach dem Tod des Kambyses im Spiegel der Keilschrifttexte. Dresden: ISLET. 2014 Fluchformeln in den Urkunden der Chaldäer- und Achämenidenzeit. Pp. 739–45 in Gernot Wilhelm (hrsg.), Organization, Representation, and Symbols of Power in the Ancient Near East: Proceedings of the 54th Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale at Würzburg, 20–25 July 2008. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. MacGinnis, J. 1994 Harrānu Texts from the British Museum. Iraq 56: 117–121. Petschow, H. 1989 Ein spätbabylonischer Erbvertrag in doppelter Ausfertigung. VS 20,86 (Berlin), YOS 17,348 (Yale). Zur spätbabylonischen Schreiberpraxis. AoF 16: 357–360. Roth, M. 1989 Babylonian Marriage Agreements 7th–3rd Centuries B.C. AOAT 222. Kevelaer / Neukirchen-Vluyn: Butzon & Bercker / Neukirchener Verlag. Sack, R. Neriglissar–King of Babylon. AOAT 236. Kevelaer / Neukirchen-Vluyn: Butzon & Bercker / Neukirchener Verlag, 1994. Stolper, M. W. 1983 The Death of Artaxerxes I. AMI 16: 223–236. Weiher, E. von 1998 Uruk. Spätbabylonische Texte aus U 18. Ausgrabungen in Uruk-Warka Endberichte. Band 13. Mainz: von Zabern. Wunsch, C. 1993 Die Urkunden des babylonischen Geschäftsmannes Iddin-Marduk. Zum Handel mit Naturalien im 6. Jahrhundert v. Chr. Band 1. Cuneiform Monographs 3a. Groningen: Styx. 1997 Neu- und spätbabylonische Urkunden aus dem Museum von Montserrat. AuOr 15: 139–194. 2000 Das Egibi-Archiv. I. Die Felder und Gärten. Band II. Cuneiform Monographs 20B. Groningen: Styx. 2003 Urkunden zum Ehe-, Vermögens- und Erbrecht aus verschiedenen neubabylonischen Archiven. Babylonische Archive. Band 2. Dresden: ISLET.

Traditional Claims of an Illustrious Ancestor in Craftsmanship and in Wisdom Daniel Bodi Paris

1. The Names of the Artisans in the “Craftsmen Charter”: A NB Tablet from Persian Times The tablet YBC 3499, dating from the time of Cyrus II (539–530 b.c.e.), was found in the temple precinct of the city of Uruk/Warka. It has been described as the “Craftsmen Charter” by its first editor. 1 It represents an exclusive labor contract between the representatives of the Persian administration and several groups of artisans designated under the generic term ummânū or “specialized craftsmen.” 2 The text enumerates the artisans by groups, which may indicate the existence of corporations: “carpenters” nagārū, “metal engravers” kubšarrū, “jewelers” kutīmū. Among the jewelers one also finds sons of “oblates” širkū. Limits were imposed on their work and punishment ensued if the artisans did not respect them.

1.1.  Transcription of the Contract (YBC 3499) A.  The Contractants ll. 1– 4 a)  (the carpenters/woodcarvers): (1) mni-din-ti-den lúšà.tam é.a[n.n]a dumu-šú šá mdnà.gu[b.numun du]mu mda-bibi ù mdnà.šeš.mu lúsag.lugal (2) [l]úen-pi-qit-ti é.a⸢n.na a⸣-na mgi-mi[l-l]u ⸢dumu⸣šú šá mdnà-numun-bašá dumu mdim-ra-bi (3) mdutu.šeš.mu ⸢dumu⸣-šú-šá [mdx.šeš?] meš .gi dumu mku-ri-i mna-di-nu ⸢dumu⸣-šú šá mda-nu-um-mu-ib-ni dumu mku-ri-i (4)  msìna-a dumu-šú šá mki-⸢na-a dumu⸣mḫa-an-bu ù mbul-lu-ṭa-a dumu-šú šá mgimil-lu d[u]mu mdim-ra-bi lúnagarmeš

b.)  ll. 5–11a (metal engravers): (5) mšá-du-nu dumu-šú šá mmu-še-zib-den dumu mnu-úr-d30 mdamar.ud.mu.si.sá dumu-šú šá mba-laṭ-su dumu mnu-úr-d30 (6) mnu-úr-d30 dumu-šú šá mdnà-dù-šeš dumu mnu-úr-d30 mìr-din-nin-ni dumu-šú šá mdin-nin-šešmeš-mu dumu mden-ú-sat 1. D. B. Weisberg, Guild Structure and Political Allegiance in Early Achaemenid Mesopotamia (YNER 1; New Haven: Yale University Press, 1967), pp. 1–4 and 37–38. J. Renger, “Notes on Goldsmiths, Jewelers and Carpenters of Neobabylonian Eanna,” JAOS 91 (1971), pp. 493–503. 2.  K. Abraham, Business and Politics under the Persian Empire: The Financial Dealings of Marduk-nasir-apli of the House of Egibi (521– 487 b.c.e.) (Bethesda, MD: CDL Press, 2004), p. 328.

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Daniel Bodi (7) mpi-ir-’u dumu-šú šá mden-ú-sa-tu dumu mden-ú-sa-tu mìr-din-nin-ni dumu-šú šá mba-laṭ-su dumu mnu-úr-d30 (8) mdiš-tar numun-ib-ni dumu-šú šá mden-iq-bi dumu ḫa-an-b[i] m[d]na-na-a-mu dumu-šú šá mdin-nin-šešmeš-mu dumu mden-ú-sat (9) mba-as-si-ia ù mni-din-ti dumu-šú šá mìr-din-nin-ni [dum]u mden-ú-sat mdutu. mu.mu ù md30 karir (10) dumumeš šá mmu-še-zib-den dumu mnu-úr-d30 mdutu.numun. gálši dumu-šú šá mba-ni-ia dumu man-da-ḫar mri-mu-tu (11a) dumu-šú šá mdiš-taršešmeš-mu dumu mnu-úr-d30 lúkab.⸢sar⸣meš

c.)  ll. 11b-17a (jewelers) (11b) mdutu-sìna dumu-šú šá mdiš-tar-mu-dù dumu mdbe-ku⸢r-b⸣an-nu (12) mdiš-taršeš-mu dumu-šú šá map-la-a dumu mlu-uš-tam-mar-dim mta-qiš-dgu-la dumu-šú šá md nà-mu-abgar⸢un⸣ (13) dumu mé-kur-za-kir mdiš-tar-numun-ib-ni dumu-šú šá mširik-ti dumu mdé-a-kur-ban-ni mdin-nin-ni-numun [x x] (14) du[mu]-šú šá mšu-la-a dumu mlu-uš-tam-mar-dim mdutu. karir dumu-šú šá mzi-ri-ia dumu mé-k[ur]-za-kir [x x x] (15) dumu-šú šá mši-rik-ti dumu mdé-a-kur-ban-ni mki-na-a dumu-šú šá mdinnin-en-šú-nu dumu m[x x x x x x] (16) m⸢ni-din-ti⸣ den mdutu-sìna dumu mdé-a-kurban-ni mna-⸢di⸣-nu dumu-šú šá mdin-nin-e[n-šú-nu dumu mx x] (17a) mka-ṣ[i-r]i dumu-šú šá mmu-še-zib-damar.ud dumu mba-bu-tu lúkù.dim⸢meš ù⸣

d.)  The entire assembly of artisans (ll. 17b–18a): (17b) nap-ḫar lúna[garmeš lúkab.sarmeš ù lúkù.dimmeš] (18a) ù lúum-man-nu šá é-an.na gab-bi i-na eme-šú-nu iq-bu-ú um-ma :

B.  The Contract Stipulates the Following (ll. 18b-32): (18b) bat-q[u ta-ṣab-ba-ta ù-dul-lu] (19) [š]á kù.babbar guškin zabar na4 meš ù iṣṣu ù dul-lu ma-la ⸢ba-šu⸣-[ú te-ép-pu-šá x x x x] (20) [x x x x]-za-ni ⸢dul⸣-lu la te-éppu-šú ù bat-qu la ta-ṣab-ba-ta ù [x x x x] (21) [mam-ma i-na] ⸢é⸣.kur šá-nam-ma dul-lu (erasure) ip-pu-šú ù bat-qu (erasure) i-ṣab-ba-t[u ḫi-ṭu šá lugal i-šad-dad] (22) [lúnagarm]eš lú⸢kab.sar⸣meš ù lúkù.dimmeš nap-ḫar lúum-man-nu šá é-an.na gab-bi i-na ⸢d⸣[en dnà ù a-di-e (23) šá mku-ra-áš lugal tin.tirki] a-na mni-din-ti-den lúšà.tam é.an.na ù m⸢dnà.šeš.mu lú⸣ x x sig5 ⸢é.⸣[an.na it-te-mu-ú] (24) ⸢ki-i mam-ma i⸣-na lìbbi ka[r]-šú i-na ⸢é.⸣kurmeš šá uru ma-ḫa-zu ma-la ba-⸢šu-ú šá-la-nu-un⸣-[nu] (25) dul-lu i-te-ép-šú ù bat-qu i-ṣab-ba-ta ù mim-ma šá ni-im-ma-ru ù ni-šem-mu-ú i-ma d[ul-lu a-šar] (26) šá-nam-ma ip-pu-šú ni-ip-te-si-en ù a-na pa-ši-ri ni-il-takan a-di-i a-na mni-din-t[i-den] (27) lúšà.tam é.an.na ù mdnà.šeš.mu lúen-pi-qit-ti é.an.na ni-qab-bu-ú ki-i mam-ma i-na lìb-b[i kar-šú] (28) šá la mni-din-ti-den lúšà. tam é.an.na ù mdnà.šeš.mu lúen-pi-qit-⟨ti é.⟩an.na du-lu ina é.ku šá-nam-ma i-teé[p-šú] (29) lu-ú bat-qu i-ṣab-ba-ta i-ta-am-ri ú il-te-mu-ú-ma a-na mni-din-ti-den ù mdnà.šeš.mu (30) la iq-ta-bu-ú a-di-e šá lugal ul-te-en-nu-ú ḫi-ṭu šá dingirmeš ù lugal i-šad-da-du (31) lúmu-⸢kin-nu mri⸣-mut den dumu-šú šá mden-ú-bal-⸢liṭ dumu m šu⸣-dna-na-a m⸢ìr.damar.⸣ud dumu-šú šá mzi-ri-ia dumu me-gi-bi (32) mdut[u.gub. ibil]a d[umu-š]ú [šá] ⸢m⸣ddi.ku5.šešmeš.⸢mu dumu m⸣[ši]-gu-ú-a mna-di-nu dumu-[šú šá mden].šešmeš.bašá dumu ⸢m⸣e-gi-bi (33) m⸢da-bi⸣-[bi dumu-šú šá] m⸢den.(?) mu(?)gina dumu [x x x x] m⸢im-bi⸣-ia dumu-šú ⸢šá mdna⸣-na-a-úrueš ⸢dumu mki-din⸣-damar. ud (34) [m]diš-t[ar-x x x x] du[mu]-šú [šá mz]i-ri-i[a] mmu-⟨še⟩zib [dx x x x] mdnà.šeš. urù(?) dumu m⸢é-kur-za⸣-kir (35) mba-l[a-ṭ]u [dumu-šú šá] ⸢md30?⸣ (about six signs missing) x [x x] mu (about eight signs missing) ⸢dumu mx⸣-dé-a (36) [m]mu-še-zib d[x x x] du[mu-šú šá] (about ten signs missing) ⸢mdutu.numun.mu⸣ (about seven signs missing) ⸢mu⸣-

Traditional Claims of an Illustrious Ancestor ú-ṣur (37) [dumu] md3[0]-⸢li-iq-un⸣-[ni-ni] (mostly broken) mx-ú (broken) d[x x]-a (38) (beginning completely broken away) [un]ugki iti [x] u[d.] 39.[kam mu.] 4.(?) [mku-ra-áš lugal tin.tirki lugal kur.]kur

1.2.  Translation of the Contract A.  The Contractants ll. 1–2 (Official Administrators) and ll. 3– 4 (Carpenters/Woodcarvers): a.) (1) Nidinti-Bēl, administrator (lúšatammu) of Éanna, son of Nabû-mukīn-zēr descendant of Dabibi and Nabû-aḫ-iddin, royal officer (lúrēš šarri) and (2) executive officer (lúbēl-piqitti) of Éanna, to Gimillu, son of Nabû-zēr-iqīša, descendant of Adad-rabi; (3) Šamaš-aḫ-iddin, son of [X?-aḫḫē]-ušallim, descendant of Kuri; Nadinu, son of Anum-šum-ibni, descendant of Kuri; (4) Iddinā, son of Kinā, descendant of Ḫanbu; and Bulluṭā, son of Gimillu, descendant of Adad-rabi; carpenters/woodcarvers (lúnagārū);

b.)  ll. 5–11a (metal engravers): (5) Šadunu, son of Mušēzib-Bēl, descendant de Nūr-Sîn; Marduk-šum-līšir, son of Balāssu, descendant of Nūr-Sîn; (6) Nūr-Sîn, son of Nabû-bani-aḫ, descendant of Nūr-Sîn; Arad-Innini, son of Innin-aḫḫē-iddin, descendant of Bēl-usat; (7) Pir’u, son of Bēl-usatu, descendant of Bēl-usatu; Arad-Innini, son of Balāssu, descendant of Nūr-Sîn; (8) Ištar-zēr-ibni, son of Bēl-iqbi, descendant of Ḫanbi; Nanā-iddina, son of Innin-aḫḫē-iddin, descendant of Bēl-usat; (9) Bassia and Nidinti, sons of Arad-Innini, descendant(s) of Bēl-usat; Šamaš-šum-iddin and Sîn-ēṭir (10) sons of Mušēzib-Bēl, descendant of Nūr-Sîn; Šamaš-zēr-ušabši, son of Bania, descendant of Andaḫar; Rimutu (11a) son of Ištar-aḫ-iddin, descendant of Nūr-Sîn; metal engravers (lúkubšarrū);

c.)  ll. 11b–17a (jewelers): (11b) Šamaš-iddina, son of Ištar-šum-ibni, descendant of Éa-kurbanni; (12) Ištar-aḫ-iddin, son of Aplā, descendant of Luštammar-Adad; Taqīš-Gula, son of Nabû-šum-iškun, (13) descendant of Ékur-zākir; Ištar-zēr-ibni, son of Širikti, descendant of Éa-kurbanni, Innini-zēr-[ibni?] (14) son of Šulā, descendant of Luštammar-Adad; Šamaš-ēṭir, son of Ziria, descendant of Ékur-zākir; [PN1. . .], (15) son of Širikti, descendant of Éa-kurbanni; Kinā, son of Innin-bēl-šunu, descendant of [PN3. . .]; (16) Nidinti, son of Šamaš-iddina, descendant of Éa-kurbanni; Nadinu son of Innin-bēl-šunu descendant of [PN3]; (17a) Kaṣiri, son of Mušēzib-dMarduk, descendant of Babutu; jewelers (lúkutīmū);

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Daniel Bodi d.)  The entire assembly of artisans (ll. 17b-18a): (17b) and the totality of the car[penters, metal engravers and jewelers] (lúnagārū lú kubšarrū, lúkutīmū), (18a) and all the craftsmen (lúummânū) of Éanna in their assembly (ukkin-šunu = puḫrūšunu), they said thus:

B.  The Contract Stipulates the Following (ll. 18b-32): (18b) “You will make the repairs and do the work (19) with silver, gold, bronze, gems, and wood and [perform] work as much as it exists (20) [If] you do not do the work and you do not make repairs and . . . [if] (21) [someone] does work or make repairs [in] another temple, [he shall suffer punishment by the king].”

C.  The Oath: (22) The [carpenters (lúnagārū)], metal engravers, (lúkubšarrū), jewelers (lúkutīmū), the sum of the craftsmen (lúummânū) of Éanna, all [have sworn], by [Bēl and Nabû and (23) the majesty of Cyrus, King of Babylon,] to Nidinti-Bēl, administrator of (lúšatammu) Éanna and Nabû-aḫ-iddin, royal officer (lúrēš šarri): “(We swear) (24–25) that no one will do work or make repairs with his allotment, i[n the te]mples of the town (or the) cult-centers, as many as they exist, without our permission, nor shall we conceal or keep secret anything which we see or hear whenever (26) (some)one does [work] in another temple, before informing Nidinti-Bēl, (27) administrator (lúšatammu) of Éanna and Nabû-aḫ-iddin, executive officer (lúbēl piqitti) of Éanna. And if someone did work or made repairs with his allotment (28) in another temple without (the permission of) Nidinti-Bēl, administrator (lúšatammu) Éanna and Nabû-aḫ-iddin, executive officer (lúbēl piqitti) of Éanna (29) or has learned (something) but has not informed Nidinti-Bēl and Nabû-aḫ-iddin, (30) he has violated the loyalty oath of the king and shall suffer the punishment of the gods and the king.” 3

D.  The Witnesses of the Contract (ll. 31–38): (31) The witnesses: Rimut-Bēl, son of Bēl-uballiṭ, descendant of Šu-Nanā; AradMarduk, son of Zēria, descendant of Egibi; (32) Šamaš-[mukīn-apli], son of Dayyān-aḫḫē-iddin, descendant of Šigua; Nadinu, son of [Bēl]-aḫḫē-iqīša, descendant of Egibi; (33) Dabibi, son of Bēl-šum-ukīn, descendant of [. . ..]; Imbia, son of Nanā-ereš, descendant de Kidin-Marduk; (34) Ištar-[. . ..] son of Zēria (the ancestor is not cited); Mušēzib-d[. . .], son of Nabû-aḫ-uṣur, descendant of Ékurzākir; (35) Balāṭu, [son of] Sîn-[. . .], [descendant of PN3?]; [. . .]-šum-[. . .], [son of PN2?] descendant of [. . .]-Éa; (36) Mušēzib-[. . .], son of [. . .] [descendant of] Šamaš-zēr-iddin; [Iddinā, son of Innin]-šum-uṣur; (37) [descendant of] Sînle[qi]-un[ninni]; (38) [U]ruk, month of [. . .], 29th day, 4th(?) year of [Cyrus, King of Babylon, King of the l]ands.

This 535 b.c.e. tablet cites the guilds of metal workers, jewelers and the individual names of artisans who claim descent from an illustrious ancestor whose name appears in Kassite times. The contract between the Persian administration and the workers repairing the temple cites each person in a stereotypical way, “PN1, son of PN2, descendant of PN3,” where the third personal name supposedly goes back to 3.  Lines 24–30 following F. Joannès, Textes économiques de la Babylonie récente (Paris: Éditions Recherche sur les Civilisations, 1982), pp. 176–77.

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an illustrious ancestor from the Kassite period. 4 In this formula the first name PN1 designates the son, the second personal name PN2 stands for the father, while the third proper name PN3 does not stand for the grand-father but for the ancestor. 5 This famous Kassite ancestor is a sort of guarantee of the guild’s craftsmanship. The Kassite period was also an age when the standard works of Akkadian literature reached the form in which they are known from late Babylonian or Assyrian libraries. The NB scribes were not ignorant of the famous predecessors who gave the texts the form in which they appear in late NB or NA libraries. E.g., one NA catalogue mentions the exorcist priest Sîn-lēqi-unninni, “Sîn is one who accepts prayer,” as the compiler of the “canonical” version of Gilgamesh Epic which presumably occurred in the 12th century b.c.e. 6 There exists, therefore, an “institution of ancestry” with reference to the scribal art or to the guilds of artisans whose crafts were hereditary. 7 Among the witnesses in ll. 36–37, one finds “[Iddinā, son of Innin]-šum-uṣur; [descendant of] Sîn-lē[qi]-un[ninni].” Many intellectuals of the priestly classes and cult-singers (kalû) of LB Uruk considered him their ancestor. This claim, however, may have been inspired by intellectual ambition or wishful thinking rather than actual historical fact. 8

2.  The Sumerian and Aramaic Names of Aḥiqar In 1906–1907, when the archaeologists found the 5th century b.c.e. Aramaic papyri of the Proverbs of Aḥiqar in Elephantine, they brought to light the earliest attestation of these proverbs probably reflecting even earlier Akkadian ones. 9 Moreover, the excavation conducted in 1959/60 at Uruk, brought to light a clay tablet in the space occupied by the Rēš sanctuary, being part of the Éanna complex in Uruk in which the artisans from the “Craftsmen Charter” also worked. The tablet gives a list of antediluvian kings and their sages (apkallū), and selected historical kings and their scholars (ummânū). The tablet is dated in the month of Ayaru 10, 147 SE = May 16th, 165 b.c.e.. Rev. 18–20: 18 [ana tar-ṣi] mdag.níg.gub.šeš lugal mé-sag-gíl-ki-i-ni-ub-ba lúum-man-nu 19 [ana tar-ṣi] mdaš+šur. šeš.sum lugal ma-ba-dninnu-da-ri um-man-nu 20 [šá lú]aḫ-la-mi-mu-ú i-qab-bu-ú ma-ḫu-ʾa-qa-ar-ri 18“[Under] the King Nebuchadnezzar I, Esangil-kīni-ubba was the scholar 19 [Under] the King Aššur-aḫ-iddina (=Esarhaddon), A-ba-ninnu-da-ri was the   scholar ummânu 20 whom the Aḫlamu (=Arameans) call a-ḫu-ʾa-qa-ar-ri (=Aḥu-ʾaqar) (+   Colophon). 10 4.  D. Bodi, “Néhémie ch. 3 et la charte des bâtisseurs d’une tablette néo-babylonienne de l’époque perse,” Transeuphratène 35 (2008), pp. 55–70. 5.  A. Ungnad, “Babylonische Familiennamen,” Miscellanea Orientalia A. Deimel (AnOr 12; Rome: Pontificium Institutum Biblicum, 1935), pp. 319–26. 6.  A. R. George, The Babylonian Gilgamesh Epic (Oxford: University Press, 2003), vol. 1, p. 28. 7.  A. L. Oppenheim, “Métiers et professions à Nuzi,” RES 2 (1939), pp. 49–61, esp. p. 58 on the nagārū “carpenters.” 8.  P.-A. Beaulieu, “The Descendents of Sîn-lēqi-unninni,” in J. Marzahn et al., (eds.), Assyriologica et Semitica: Fs J. Oelsner (AOAT 252; Munster: Ugarit-Verlag, 2000), pp. 1–16. 9.  F. Briquel Chatonnet, “L’histoire et la sagesse d’Ahiqar,” in J.-L. Bacqué-Grammont et al., (eds.), D’un Orient à l’autre (Paris-Louvain: Peeters, 2005), pp. 17–40. 10.  J. van Dijk, “Die Tontafel aus dem Reš-Heiligtum,” in Die Inschriftenfunde in XVIII vorläufuger Bericht über die von dem Deutschen Archäologischen Institut und der Deutschen Orient-Gesellschaft

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In her time, E. Reiner 11 had written an important article on the etiological myth of the seven sages—the apkallū who occur in groups of seven and are sometimes identified with purādu-fish representing Oannes and the other fish-like creatures who, according to Berossus taught humankind the crafts and civilization. 12 The apkallū are connected with wisdom and crafts in the term ummânu, which is one of their epithets. The ummânu are spoken of in the 9th century b.c.e. Erra Epic where the names of three apkallū are given (I 147, 155 Ninildu, 158 Guškinbanda, 159 Ninagal, and II B 16–21). 13 They are presented as the famous sages who lived before the Flood. The Erra Epic makes explicit connection between the apkallū and the ummânū, many centuries before the Seleucid tablet, and shows that both were craftsmen, experts or skilled wise men. Knowledge and expertise in a craft which are often beyond the understanding of a simple man tend to be mythologized and divinized. The mention of the Aḫlamu Arameans and Aḥiqar’s Sumerian name merit further comments: The Aramean invasions of Mesopotamia from the west began at the latest during the late 2nd millennium b.c.e. and are attested from the time of Marduk-nādin-aḫḫe (1099–1082 b.c.e.) of Babylonia and Tiglath-pileser I (1114– 1076 b.c.e.) of Assyria. 14 The Aḫlamū, forerunners of the Arameans, had been present in Mesopotamia in the Kassite period (TuM NF 5 11:3, 12:3). There are abundant attestations of the Aḫlamū in the MB economic texts from Nippur. 15 In the 18th century b.c.e. Mari oil receipts (28 references in ARM IX, XI and XII) for Zimri-Lim’s table, are established in the name of a palace officer named Aḫlamu. The opposite is found in the use of the term Sutû, which appears later as a personal name, though it usually stands for nomadic clans of the Suteans. In a 14th century b.c.e. El-Amarna letter EA 200 addressed to the Pharaoh, the latter is being informed that the Babylonian caravans from Karanduniyaš were attacked by the Aḫlamu Aramean clans. 16 A robbery of Babylonian caravans by groups of pastoral nomads called Aḫlamu is probably described in this fragmentary letter while in EA 16:37–42, the Assyrian King Aššur-uballiṭ writes to the Pharaoh Ausgrabungen in Uruk-Warka (H. J. Lenzen ed., Berlin: Mann, 1962), pp. 39–62 (44), (l. 19). Idem, “Die Tontafelfunde der Kampagne 1959/60,” AfO 20 (1963), pp. 217–18. 11.  E. Reiner, “The Etiological Myth of the ‘Seven Sages’,” Or 30 (1961), pp. 1–11, esp. pp. 6–9. 12. On the apkallū-ummânū see, A. Lenzi, Secrecy and the Gods. Secret Knowledge in Ancient Mesopotamia and Biblical Israel (SAAS 19; Helsinki: Institute for Asian and African Studies, 2008), pp. 106–120, “The Apkallū as Scribal Connection.” 13.  L. Cagni, L’Epopea di Erra (St. Semitici 34; Rome: Istituto di Studi del Vicino Oriente, 1969). pp. 74–75, and pp. 190–91. A. Lenzi, “The Uruk List of Kings and Sages and Late Mesopotamian Scholarship,” JANER 8 (2008), pp. 137–69. Lenzi’s analysis focuses on this late Seleucid tablet as the “most explicit connection between the apkallū and the ummânū.” He interprets it “as a tendentious document written by scholars who needed to reassert their importance to the community leadership in order to advance their cultic-political agenda” (139). 14.  J. A. Brinkman, A Political History of Post-Kassite Babylonia 1158–722 B.C. (AnOr 43; Rome: Pontifical Biblical Institute, 1968), pp. 277–79. 15.  J. A. Brinkman, “Notes on Arameans and Chaldeans in Southern Babylonia in the Early Seventh Century B.C.,” Or 46 (1977), pp.  304–25. According to Brinkman, there is no evidence that the Chaldeans were a subdivision of the Arameans. Idem, A Political History, pp. 260–85. While there are 5 Chaldean tribes there are more than 35 Aramean tribes. These tribes were generally smaller groups than their Chaldean counterparts. 16. W. L. Moran, The Amarna Letters (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1992), p. 277.

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telling him that the Suteans, another Aramean nomadic tribe, have pursued and kidnapped his messengers. 17 The Aḫlamu Aramean clans were mentioned since the Assyrian King Adad-nirari I (1307–1275 b.c.e.) who states that his father Arik-den-ilu (1318–1307), was victorious in his military campaigns against various Aramaic nomadic tribes such as Aḫlamu, Sutû and Iauru. 18 In the annals of the King Adad-nirari II (909–889 b.c.e.), the Aḫlamu Arameans are designated as the clans from the steppe ṣābēmeš ṣēri. 19 The mother of King Esarhaddon, Zakūtu-Naqiʾya “The Pure,” was herself of Aramaic origin. 20 Therefore, finding an Aramean as a royal counselor is not necessarily surprising. The reference to the Aḫlamu in this context might be significant. It might reflect a historical reminiscence concerning the identity and origin of the Arameans bringing them as far back into the past as the time of the Amorite warlord Zimri-Lim (1775–1762 b.c.e.) and the King Ḫammu-rabi of Babylon (1792–1750 b.c.e.) who was himself of Benjaminite Amorite stock. 21 R. Zadok has suggested that certain eastern members of the Amorite dialect cluster, which were spoken in the Jezireh and on the fringe of the Syrian desert, were the ancestors of the Aramaic language. 22 Aḥiqar’s Sumerian name Abu-Ninnu-da-ri presumably goes back to the names of scholars from the Kassite period from the end of the 12th century b.c.e.. The name m a-ba-dninnu-da-ri appears as an ancestor in Persian Nippur (BE VIII/1, BE X, PBS II/1), and at the end of a šu.ila tablet (BMS 35) the same person is probably meant nibruki é ma-ba-dninnu-da-ri. 23 It is therefore possible that the Sumerian name of Aḥiqar belonged to a famous scribe from the end of the 2nd millennium b.c.e.. This reference to the Kassite period is significant in connecting the Aramean sage to an ancient wisdom tradition increasing his importance by providing him with a literary lineage. In the name ma-ba-dninnu-da-ri, the constitutive elements mean the following: a-ba = “who,” the sign no 50 dninnu stands for the god Enlil, while da-ri, also written da-rí, is an Akkadian loanword darûm “to last long, endure.” The name may mean something like, “Who is enduring like Enlil?” There was a revival of Sumerian names in the Kassite period, 24 and in this late document something similar is being done. In S. Parpola’s opinion, “This passage is clearly fictitious and of no historical value. Aba-ninnu-dari alias Mannu-kima-Illil-ḫatin, a MB scholar (cf. 5 R 44 iii 9′), was possibly the author of the Counsels of Wisdom (BWL p. 96 ff; p. 106 K. 13770:1 17.  N. Naʾaman, “Bityawaza of Damscus and the Date of the Kāmid el-Lōz ʾApiru Letters,” UF 20 (1988), pp. 179–93 esp. p. 181, n.14. 18. J.-R. Kupper, Les nomades en Mésopotamie (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1957), p.  104. On the Aḫlamu see, M. Birot, J-R. Kupper, O. Rouault, Repertoire analytique (ARM XVI/1; Paris: Geuthner, 1979), p. 54, Aḫlāmu (listing all 28 Mari references). M. Birot, Textes administratifs de la salle 5 du Palais (ARM IX; Paris: Geuthner, 1960), ARM IX, 54:2; 58:2 and texts nos 75, 78, 144. 19. Kupper, Les Nomades, p. 111. 20.  F. Joannès, La Mésopotamie du Ier millénaire avant J.-C. (Paris: A. Colin, 2000), p. 67. H. Lewy, “Nitokris-Naqiʾia,” JNES 11 (1952), pp. 264–86. 21.  D. Charpin, Hammu-rabi de Babylone (Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 2003), p. 43. 22.  R. Zadok, “On the Amorite Material from Mesopotamia,” in M. E. Cohen et al., (eds.), The Tablet and the Scroll. Fs W. W. Hallo (Bethseda, MD: CDL Press, 1993), pp. 315–33 (316). 23.  W. G. Lambert, “Ancestors, Authors, and Canonicity,” JCS 11 (1957), pp. 1–14, esp. p. 6 n. 23a 24.  Lambert, “Ancestors,” p. 6.

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read um-ma-nu DUMU!-[šú i-mal-lik]), the Babylonian archetype of the Sayings of Ahiqar.” 25 The incipit of the Counsels of Wisdom would thus read, “A scholar [instructs] his son/disciple,” making it a fitting parallel to the situation of Aḥiqar instructing Nadin.

3.  The Kassite Period In 1595 b.c.e., the remnants of the OB kingdom established by Ḫammu-rabi in the 18th century b.c.e., fell to the Hittites, who after overrunning Mesopotamia withdrew to Anatolia. The power vacuum left in their wake was eventually filled by a non-Mesopotamian people living in Babylonia known as the Kassites. 26 The ensuing Kassite Dynasty ruled until the middle of the 12th century. Except for a few brief interruptions, the family ruled continuously for almost 450 years until about 1155 b.c.e.. Persons with Kassite names are first recorded in Babylonia during the 18th century b.c.e., chiefly around the city of Sippar, and by the end of the OB Dynasty, Kassites can be found in the middle Euphrates area. 27 Their origins are obscure; scholars have suggested Iran and the Zagros mountain region as the likely locus for the Kassite homeland. 28 K. Balkan’s work remains the most comprehensive study of the Kassite language, yet the very little evidence we have does not indicate the existence of a written Kassite language or membership in any recognized language family. 29 It is not known how the Kassite dynasty came to occupy the Babylonian throne sometime during the 15th century. Although approximately 12,000 texts dating from this period have been recovered, more than 90% of these await publication. 30 Of the texts published so far, more than 95% document the economic life of a single city, Nippur. “The scarcity of extant documentation useful for research, in contrast to the abundance of such records from the preceding OB and succeeding NB periods, combined with the lack of systematic study devoted to Babylonia under this dynasty, gives the impression that the Kassite period was somewhat of a ‘dark age’ in southern Mesopotamia.” 31

25.  S. Parpola, Letters from Assyrian Scholars to the Kings Esarhaddon and Assurbanipal (AOAT 5/2; Kevelaer: Butzon & Bercker; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1983), p. 449. 26.  J. A. Brinkman, “Kassiten,” RlA (1976–80), vol. 5, pp. 464–73. W. Sommerfeld, “The Kassites of Ancient Mesopotamia: Origins, Politics, and Culture,” in J. M. Sasson (ed.), Civilizations of the Ancient Near East (New York: Scribner’s, 1995), vol. 2, pp. 917–30. 27.  Brinkman, “Kassiten,” p. 465. 28.  M. Roaf, Cultural Atlas of Mesopotamia and the Ancient Near East (Oxford: Equinox, 1990), p. 140. 29.  K. Balkan, Kassiten Studien I: Die Sprache der Kassiten (tr. by F. R. Kraus from Turkish; AOS 37; New Haven: American Oriental Society, 1954). 30.  J. A. Brinkman, “The Monarchy in the Time of the Kassite Dynasty,” Le Palais et la royauté (19th RAI, P. Garelli, ed., Paris: Geuthner, 1971), pp. 395–408, esp. p. 395. These figures are based on detailed estimates made by Brinkman of the Nippur tablets in Philadelphia and Istanbul but exclude tablets excavated in Babylon. 31.  K. E. Slanski, The Babylonian Entitlement narûs (kudurrus). A Study in Their Form and Function (ASOR Books 9; Boston: ASOR, 2003), p. 10. Slanski points out the value of the kudurrus as a source for reconstructing the Kassite social, political, economic, literary and artistic history. Sommerfeld, “The Kassites ,” p. 926, cf. pp. 926–28: “Literature and Worldview.”

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4.  The Cultural and Literary Floruit in the Kassite Period 32 Scribal scholarship, which had blossomed in the OB schools, continued to thrive in Kassite times, particularly at Nippur and Ur. Many of the great scribal families of the 1st-millennium Babylonia traced their descent to famous forbears who were active in the 15th or 14th century. Artists expanded the repertoire of motifs on the kudurrus and in glyptic art. Molded-brick sculptures were used with in architectural decoration as in the façade of Inanna’s temple built by Kara-indaš at Uruk. As reflected in the gift lists from El-Amarna mentioning shipments up to 600 kgs of gold, the result of intensive relations with Egypt, for more than one hundred years after Burna-Buriaš II, gold replaced the traditional silver as the usual standard of equivalence in Babylonia. 33 The editing of the Babylonian intellectual achievement was directly supported by the Kassite kings. 34 An example of creative intervention in the course of copying classical works is the incipit of the Epic of Gilgamesh. The OB title, šūtur eli šarri “Greater than other kings,” was transformed into ša nagba īmuru “Who has seen everything or contemplated the deep (sources of knowledge).” 35 This editorial intervention transforms a heroic poem about a great king into a story of a man whose intensive search and extensive travels allowed him to acquire an insight into the entire breadth of human experience. An entry found on a fragment listing a variety of works includes the Gilgamesh Epic, “according to Sîn-lēqi-unninni,” who is certainly the Uruk ancestor. 36

Conclusions In the Kassite period the Babylonians began to use ancestral names like our surnames. 37 It is from personal names, especially lists of witnesses in legal and commercial texts, that our knowledge of that period is largely drawn. In the OB period the standard name formula “X son of (mār) Y” refers exclusively to physical or adoptive parentage. In the late Kassite period and onwards the same formula acquires a double meaning: It can be used as in the earlier period, but it may denote an ancestor, not a parent. The first usable data stem from the kudurrū boundary stones. In Late Babylonian period a less ambiguous scheme was generally adopted: “X son of (mār-šu ša) Y, son of (mār) Z.” The subtle grammatical distinction in expressing the filial relationship in the two cases was well understood as meaning, “X son of Y, descendant of Z.” This usage persisted through the LB times, the Persian period (the “Craftsmen Charter”), and into Seleucid and Parthian times. The combined evidence suggests that the use of ancestral names had economic significance. 38 32.  Brinkman, “Kassiten,” p. 468. 33.  Sommerfeld, “The Kassites,” p. 920. 34.  Sommerfeld, “The Kassites,” p. 926, The colophon on a tablet of hemerologies states, “Copies of (cuneiform tablets) from Sippar, Nippur, Babylon, Larsa, Ur, Uruk, and Eridu the scholars excerpted, selected, and gave to Nazi-Maruttaš, king of the world.” 35.  CAD N/1, p. 111d) of knowledge: šu ikšudu nagab uršim (RN) “who acquired all knowledge” CH iv 10; kullat nagbi nēmeqi niṣirti kakugallūti “all the knowledge, the secret of the exorcist” KAR 44 r. 7. 36.  Lambert, “Ancestors,” p. 5. 37.  Lambert, “Ancestors,” p. 1. 38.  Lambert, “Ancestors,” p. 3.

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In the “Craftsmen Charter,” the names of the members of the corporation of metal engravers are referring to a limited number of ancestors. The quoting of names makes one believe that they all go back to a couple of illustrious ancestors from the Kassite times. When one compares the way these artisans bearing NB names indicate their “pedigree” to the way the names of the Jewish population living in Babylonia appear in the contracts one notices a significant difference. The Jews living in āl-Yāhudu “the city of Judah” in Babylonia as mentioned on a tablet from 498 b.c.e. do not claim such ancestry going several centuries back in time. 39 One finds just the name of the father: Abdu-Yahū, son of Šamah-Yāma. The personal names of the Persian population in general in NB contracts are also devoid of reference to ancestors. 40 In his Behistun inscription, the King Darius I, however, claimed descent from a mythical ancestor Achaemenes in an attempt to construe a royal ancestry which he did not possess. Since he avoids mentioning Cyrus yet “steals” the latter’s great grand-father in his tailored genealogy, some historians consider Darius I to be a usurper. 41 In the political upheaval brought about with the fall of Babylon in 539 b.c.e. and the taking over of Babylonia by the Persians, the autochthonous inhabitants of Babylonia, especially the artisans, felt a need to reaffirm the fact that they had lived there for centuries and were descendents of a long line of ancestors going back to at least the end of the 12th century b.c.e.. In Aḥiqar’s case there is a double reference to the past. On the one hand, with his Aramaic name and a reference to the Aḫlamu Arameans, the great antiquity of the Arameans is underlined, allowing them to claim a quasi “authochthonous” status going back to the time of Ḫammu-rabi. On the other hand, with the fictional use of his Sumerian name, Aḥiqar becomes a sort of Aramaic “Homer” whose wisdom goes back to the Kassite floruit. These genealogies and references have definite social and economic functions. In the “Craftsmen Charter” the reference to illustrious ancestors is a fiction which serves specific economic and social purposes. Such tailored genealogies are comparable to John and Bernard Burke’s Peerage, Baronetage & Knightage of English nobility. 42 In 1826, Burke’s typical account of the antiquity of any family was that an ancestor “came in with William the Conqueror” in 1066, or “was a noble Norman knight.” 43 Aḥiqar’s Sumerian name connects him with the illustrious tradition of scribes who worked in the Kassite period in the compilation of the Mesopotamian literary tradition. Such names permit to span millennia and open the door to other types of connections. The key term in this innovative operation was ummânū equated with apkallū in the Erra Epic and connected with a new meaning of “high official” in later times allowing creative blending of several traditional literary motives in the development of the Aḫiqar Story and Proverbs. Aḥiqar was an Aramean scholar at the Assyrian court in the 7th century b.c.e., perhaps known under another name, and his Sumerian name A-ba-Ninnu-da-ri was a sort of code connecting him with a famous scribe from the Kassite period. The claims to antiquity of one’s name or ancestry make one “noble,” privileged, and warrant the quality of one’s trade, wisdom and knowledge. 39.  F. Joannès and A. Lemaire, “Trois tablettes cunéiformes à onomastique ouest-sémitique (collection Sh. Moussaïeff),” Transeuphratène 17 (1999), pp. 17–34. 40.  I thank C. Wunsch for this information. 41. P. Briant, Histoire de l’empire perse (Paris: Fayard, 1996), p.  122. D. Bodi, Israël et Juda à l’ombre des Babyloniens et des Perses (Paris: De Boccard, 2011), pp. 37–38 (bibliography). 42. http://www.burkespeerage.com. 43.  Cf. Oscar Wilde’s remark, “Burke’s Peerage is the best thing the English have done in fiction.”

New Phraseology and Literary Style in the Babylonian Version of the Achaemenid Inscriptions Parsa Daneshmand Oxford

1.  The Problem of the Aryan Languages 1 1.1.  Search for a Method In modern time bilingualism and multilingualism refer to the ability of using two or more languages in two aspects of individual and social level. Although owing to the modern facilities of communication, the diversity of languages is not a complex and problematic matter either, the difference between the main language of each society and its second or third language can be the cause of some sociolinguistic and psycholinguistic issues. These issues, when studied in the field of the ancient societies, can raise more problematic questions. How were the people of the ancient civilizations able to connect to each other? Trading, marriage, migration, war, etc., are considered as the reasonable phenomena to create the inevitable sociolinguistic opportunity in which people of various languages come in a close contact with each other that in turn necessitates a common language for their mutual understanding. But despite the lack of modern communication facilities in ancient time, how was this process actually possible and what was the process of interaction between written documents and spoken language? To what degree did the antiquarianism—that in some ancient societies was a typical characteristic—and formal language have an influence on colloquial languages and vice-versa? Eugen A. Nida and William L. Wonderly (1971) categorize a typical three-languages structure in each society in which “the in-group language is the one used in any society for the basic face-to-face relationships with other speakers” (1971: 57), the out-group language is the language “for connecting people of groups outside their own community” (1971: 58) and the language of specialized information is “the language of higher education” (1971: 59). They demonstrate the reality that in many places in the world, “speakers participate in a two-language structure or a one language structure” (1971: 61). 2 In this Author’s note:  Special thanks are due to Professor Alfonso Archi and Lorenzo Verderame for their warm invitation and impeccably organizing RAI 57. 1.  I would like to thank Professor Matthew Stolper for generously providing me with the pdf of his highly influential publication (“Iranica in Post-Achaemenid-Babylonian Texts,” Persika 9 [2006] 223– 260) that was an inspiring source for me as his other publications from which this research has richly benefited. 2.  Nida and Wonderly found out that the a three language structure fits the linguistic situation in Kenya and the Philippines as well (1971: 59).

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classification, one may add the role of religious language that in some case—like Classical Arabic—is identical to the language of specialized information but in the case of modern Hebrew, is equal to the in-group language. This model can be the source of some advantages especially when one compares it with the current linguistic situation of the different languages in the world on one hand and the ancient documents which scheme—though not clearly—the image of different levels of the languages of the ancient civilizations on the other. 3 Sometimes the common features between two distinct in-group languages make a sort of communication possible. For instance, the modern colloquial Egyptian is totally different from the Lebanese in-group language but because of their common Semitic nature and dayto-day communication through the media and interrelationship, an Egyptian speaker—with the exception of some special local terms—is understood by a Lebanese speaker and vice-versa. So their in-group language, to some degree, can be also used as the out-group language for their reciprocal understanding. But the classical Arabic is the language of specialized information that should be learned through the academic courses. 4 A similar model can be demonstrated in ancient Mesopotamia. In this particular case, as most of ancient linguistic models, although the ingroup language may not be completely absent from the extant documents, it would be very hard to judge its details. Ancient Mesopotamian texts apparently show the bilingual and multilingual nature of the society in which these texts were written. Studying Sumerian even after its death as a spoken language—that probably occurred in the Ur III period or some time later—was an essential task for the Akkadian chancery as the literary function of the Sumerian language was extended until the last period of the cuneiform texts. 5 After or before the Ur III period, Sumerian lost its role as the in-group and out-group language and preserved its prestige as the language of the ritual texts and the incantation formula throughout all the periods of the cuneiform writing. So the gradual demise of the Sumerian-speaking people created a ground for the Akkadian language to find its way to be the spoken and written language. There is no evidence to prove to what degree the Akkadian texts reflect the language which was spoken by the people. At least the difference between the Assyrian and Babylonian dialects gives a hint to this point that the written language, even in its best case of standardization, would be affected by the spoken pronunciation. 6 After the eighth century, the Aramaic language began to spread through the Assyrian empire and created a multilinguistic atmosphere that continued to the later periods. 7 The Semitic nature of Aramaic was not contradicted by the Akkadian language but was easily tangled into its structure and slightly disfigured 3.  Piotr Michalowski in his creative article (2006) describes that the written forms of Akkadian and Sumerian do not represent the spoken language and that is a typical problem in studying the street language in ancient times. 4.  In some cases the in-group language is hard to write. In Lebanon, there are still different arguments about the best way to write their colloquial language. 5.  For the most essential debate on this topic see Cooper (1973), Michalowski (2006) and Wood (2006). 6.  Perhaps the assimilated forms of consonants like dental/sibilant+š of pronominal suffix >ss in words like māt-šu which normally would be written as mās-su can be the example of direct influence of the spoken language in the written documents. Millard (1983: 103–104) refers to Aramaic transcription of Assyrian names on a clay bulla from Khorsabad of the seal of Pan-Aššur where the royal name is written srg in contrast to the traditional form Šarru-kēn reaching to this point that the Aramaic reflects the Assyrian dialect. 7.  For a discussion on this matter, see Beaulieu (2006).

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its standard form. 8 However , both Akkadian and Aramaic preserved their independent prestige. Some Assyrian correspondence shows that writing in Akkadian and Aramaic was respectively prevalent in Assyrian bureaucratic system, which means the Assyrian authorities—comparing the mutual understanding of the modern colloquial Egyptian and Lebanese—had no problem in understanding Aramaic for their communication. 9 In other parts and outside Mesopotamia, in Elamite territory, the linguistic situation shaped a multilingual social level similar to its Mesopotamian counterpart. Sumerian and Akkadian texts parallel with Elamite sources were the usual types of the writing in the scribal community of Elam. 10 Susiana school texts, together with the huge amount of the Sumerian and Akkadian economic documents, prove the vast expansion of the multilingualism in Elam, but it does not necessarily refer to the all Elamite speakers. Sumerian royal letters published in MDP 57—such as Labat and Edzard pointed out with a high degree of possibility—were imported from Diyala to Susiana; moreover they refer to a strong scholarly background of the Sumerian and Akkadian knowledge of their scribes. 11 The contents of these texts exclude any conclusion suggesting that they are copies of Mesopotamian sources. The innovation in orthographical characteristics that typologically makes them unusual, in addition to their odd features, can be tracked through their contents and passages. In the midst of such a sociolinguistic context and in a multilingualistic society, in which the current languages affect each other and take effect from one another, the presence of the Median and Persian people who spoke in an absolute different language created a new sociolinguistic situation with new interaction between Akkadian, Elamite, Aramaic and Aryan languages. Although there is no any firm proof to suggest if the Old Persian-speaking people in Achaemenid chancery had quite mastered the Elamite, Akkadian and Aramaic languages, there are many factors like interrelation, intermarriage, neighboring, etc., which make a possible and suitable ground for suggesting such a hypothesis and as it will be mentioned later, the disfiguration of the Elamite language in the Achaemenid texts poses speculation about the Persian chancery’s influence on the structure of the Elamite language, a theory that may be applicable to particular cases in analyzing the oddity of the Achaemenid-Akkadian and Achaemenid-Aramaic languages. As an example of interrelation between Persians and Elamites, Dandamayev refers to some Persian names like Bagindu in the Babylonian texts of the sixth century b.c. who were designated as Elamite (1992: 157). 12 In addition to this, the huge amount of the Persepolis Fortification and Treasury tablets written in Elamite can be regarded as an acceptable mark of the Elamite knowledge of Persians. 13 This possibility, that Old Persian script was invented at the time of Darius I, 8. Some of these influences can be tracked through the Akkadian-Aramaic bilingual texts, see Greenfield and Shaffer 1983. 9.  Beaulieu (2006: 189=CT 54 10:16) refers to prominent correspondence between Sargon II and Sin-iddina in which the king asked Sin-iddina to write him in Assyrian rather than Aramaic. 10.  The stress on the term “scribal community” majorly refers to the group of elites as we know less about the linguistic characteristic of the ordinary people. 11.  For a description of textual transmission between Babylonia and Susa, see Rutz (2006). 12.  Dandamayev (1992: 157) draws this conclusion that Elamites often gave their children Iranian names. 13.  A huge number of Iranian names in neo-Elamite texts implies how they were involved in different aspects of Elamite society before the Achaemenid period, for an influential study on this topic, see Tavernier 2011.

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leaves less doubt that the Elamite language and its script were frequently used by Persians in their documentations and this unique situation provides a desirable background to study an ancient society in which the in-group language of its people was absolutely different from their out-group and academic language and despite the archaism of the later Old Persian texts, which presents a language probably different from the spoken Old Persian, the interaction between these languages can be observed in more detail. It is obvious that Elamite language gradually disappeared from the region. The Persepolis Treasury and Fortification texts are highly formulaic and their language does not necessarily refer to the utterance. So it would be an essential question whether the Elamite language was a dead or dying language at the time of the Achaemenid Empire. The question addressed in this part can be raised about the Akkadian version of the Achaemenid inscriptions as well: does the nature of the Akkadian language used in these inscriptions fit this pattern? Did the Achaemenid-Akkadian language have any contact with a sort of Akkadian which was still alive? In other words, were Achaemeind-Akkadian and AchaemenidElamite the results of a natural evolution or just the products of the artificial attempts of Persian chancery made by the Aramaic, Elamite and Persian scribes. Christopher Woods (2006: 93) argues about the preservation of the Sumerian personal names after the Ur III texts as a possible indication to the spoken language, an opinion that for Piotr Michalowski (2006: 175) is not convincing. 14 Considering the former view, the occurrence of the standard Akkadian personal names in the Achaemenid period, puts some doubt on accepting the Akkadian language as a completely dead language in that time whereas it is generally accepted that, despite the continuation of the writing in the Babylonian language, Akkadian was not spoken by the Mesopotamian inhabitants after the neo-Babylonian period. 15 But does the occurrence of the names of sentence-level meaning like Ninurta-ahhē-uballiṭ (Stolper 1985: 268) or Ninurta-nādin-šumi (Stolper 1985:241) in Murašû texts or Anuab-uṣur in Hellenestic legal documents (Boiy 2003: 21) demonstrate the type of the language of the streets in those periods? 16 Does it mean that the Akkadian language was still spoken in some situations in Mesopotamia? Or was choosing archaic names by mothers for their children a sort of local resistance in order to the ancient heritage? To what degree can personal names be reliable for identification of the ethnicity of their bearers? 17 Can the name list of workers and other official people who were involved in the project of the Persepolis scheme an outline of the sociolinguistic condition of that period? The possible distinction between the spoken and written language, the variety of languages and written documents, the lack of colloquial evidence, the ambiguity about the origin of personal names and many other paradoxical factors make a rather difficult ground for any final conclusion. Any effort to establish a fixed method to standardize a schematic view of the relationship between spoken and written language seems to fail. In such a complex circumstance how can one analyze the methodology of composing the Achaemenid trilingual in14.  In some cases proper names do not prove the type of the spoken language. Many Christians in Lebanon who speak Lebanese chose Western names like “George” and “Pamela” for their children. 15.  Using the general term Akkadian instead of late-Babylonian language serves the purpose of preventing the inaccuracy that may be raised by the ambiguity about the exact definition of the lateBabylonian language in Assyriology studies, see Beaulieu (2006: 193). 16.  I borrowed the term “names of sentence-level meaning” from Christopher Woods (2006: 95). 17.  This is the problem that Christopher Wood refers to (2006: 94).

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scriptions and how can one interpret the unique features of the Achaemenid-Akkadian and Achaemenid-Elamite language? There is one essential point which appears to be certain: the bureaucratic people in charge of the Achaemenid empire, for whom Old Persian was the in-group language, were in direct contact with administrative documents in Elamite, Akkadian and Aramaic sources. This fact apparently demands competence in all these languages.

1.2  Lišānu ahītu Lišānu ahītu “foreign language” is a well-attested term used in the Mesopotamian texts, which for their writers lišān Akkadî and lišān Šumeri, were the languages they might speak, write and understand. 18 “Difficult/Confused” language was the term referring to the languages of Elam, Gutium and Subartu in a UET text: ša šadûšunu nesû lišānšunu egrū “whose mountains are far away, whose languages are difficult” (CAD L: 213). To this list, the Aryan language—as is labeled by Darius in Bisitun—can also be added. 19 Old Persian as a non-Semitic language had not found enough prestige to spread around the region even after the conquest of Babylon by Cyrus so it may be imagined to what degree it was unfamiliar to Egyptian, Babylonian or Aramaic-speaking people. Lacking the script was probably the most problematic issue that prevented Old Persian from becoming an influential language. 20 Even the command of Darius I to invent an artificial script for Aryan language did not change its position. On the other hand, for the Persians themselves in general terms, the most intelligible language was Aryan that as Professor Stolper has mentioned, refers to the language of Persian and Median (Stolper 2005: 19–20), a hypothesis that may be proved by a passage from Darius: ina qaqqar agâ rapšātu ša mādāte mādētu ina libbišu Parsu Madaja u mātāte šanītima lišānu šanītu “on this wide earth on which there are many countries among them Persia, Media and other countries, other languages” (VAB 3 85§ 1:7, § 2:16), in which Darius separated the language of the Persians and Medians from the other languages. 21 Without being able to prove, it is possible that the Persian kings like Cyrus or Darius in addition to their main language, were also able to speak a sort of Elamite language or at least could understand it as there is less doubt that the Bisitun inscription was first written in Elamite (Stolper 2005:20; Rubio 2006: 39). On the other hand, there is still some reason to accept Gershevitch’s theory about the alloglottography in the Achaemenid texts which attests that Darius and other Persian kings uttered their texts in Old Persian but the scribes wrote them down in Elamite, Babylonian and Aramaic and then read it back to them in Old Persian (Rubio 2006: 33). Considering the illiteracy of Persian kings, it is safe to assume the re-hearing of the written text by them as the final check. 22 But the most opportunity for inter-connection between Persians and people of Mesopotamia occurred after the conquest of Babylon. 18.  For attestation of līšānu ahītu both in phonetic and logogram forms, see passages like EME BAR-tum kur Martu ki ibêl (RMA II, 63:2) and passim in this volume. 19.  See Schmitt (1991: 73–74). 20.  There is no firm evidence of the tendency of Iranians to write before Achaemenids. The traditional Pahlavi texts confirm that for many years uzwān-abespārišnīg “memorizing” was the only way that religious experts used it to preserve the Avesta texts, see Nawwabi-Jamasp-Asa (1976: 7). 21.  Tavernier uses the term Old Iranian language for Old Persian and Avestan that are directly attested in documents, see Tavernier (2007: 6). 22.  In an inscription where Darius I proudly mentions his arts and skills, there is no simple hint to his literacy, see Kent 1953: 140.

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After this time, the Persian terms and names gradually entered into the Babylonian sources. Just five years after the conquest of Babylon by Cyrus, the Old Persian term pardēsu “garden” appeared in a Babylonian business text as a loanword (Cyrus 212: 3 = Strassmaier 1890: 122). Professor Stolper in his article ingeniously analyzed the proportion of attestation of the Iranian terms in the Achaemenid-Bablyonian texts reaching the key point that “those parts of Babylonian society that used written records made frequent contact with Iranian institutions, but mostly under exceptional conditions” (2006: 225), which explains why, in this period, Old Persian administrative terms were sparsely and occasionally adapted and used in the Babylonian sources. These terms imply Old Persian as the predominant in-group language of the Achaemenid bureaucratic system however it was not used as the written language. 23 Professor Stolper also refers to Iranians with Babylonian patronyms and Babylonians with Iranian patronyms as an indication to their intermarriage and reciprocal acculturation (2006: 225). But although there is a considerable number of the Iranian names and Persian terms in Babylonian texts after the Achaemenid conquest, there is no evidence to prove if the native Babylonian well-trained scribes, who lived in the territories of Mesopotamia, were acquainted with the Old Persian language. But there is a huge number of Akkadian texts found from Susa, Haft Tepe, Choghazanbil and other Elamite sites which show that the Akkadian language was traditionally studied and understood for thousands of years in Elamite territories and it is not unlikely if one assumes that this tradition was transferred to Medians and Persians either through the local Akkadian scribal chanceries at Susa and Anshan or by the Aramaic scribes who had Assyrian heritage or even by Persians who lived in Babylon after 595 b.c. 24

2.  Babylonian Version of the Achaemenid Inscriptions 2.1.  A New Style It has long been recognized that the Babylonian versions of the Achaemenid inscriptions are not written in a standard Akkadian language. This kind of Akkadian had not been used in the Mesopotamia even during the Achaemenid period. Some of its characteristics like using the demonstrative pronoun agâ can be found in lateBabylonian legal and economic texts. But the language used in the Akkadian version of the Achaemenid inscriptions is essentially different from the normal Babylonian language that one expects to encounter in a royal text. Beaulieu believes that using such an unusual Akkadian in form and even script resulted in “implicit rejection, perhaps even an intentional one, of the official culture of the preceding empire” (2006: 204) but—I think—Achaemenid chancery technically could not get the benefit from the Babylonian ṭupšarrus who had professional skills in writing royal texts according to the Mesopotamian tradition. Although the Cyrus Cylinder was not dictated by Cyrus and his scribe just intended to portray the personal characteristics of this Persian king and his deeds in a Mesopotamian model, in Achaemenid inscriptions the intermediary of a lišānu ahītu like Old Persian, prevented 23.  For these terms, see Stolper (1985; 2003). 24.  The period between 595–570 B.C is the time that, according to Dandameyv, the references to Persians begin in Babylonian texts (1991: 156).

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interference of the well-trained Babylonian scribes in their writings. So the main question here is whether this different literary syntax and word order were caused by the nature of transposing texts or the problem resulted from a special Akkadian language which was common outside the border of Mesopotamia. The first Babylonian version of the Achaemenid inscriptions is carved on Bisitun rocks. This version—like many other Babylonian versions of the Achaemenid royal texts—is not a word-for-word translation of the extant Elamite, Aramaic or Old Persian texts but there is enough evidence to put forward this hypothesis that it was probably based on a Vorlage which does not exist anymore. As an example one may refer to the attestation of LÚ.par-sa-a-a “Persian man” (AKK-DB:1=von Voigtlander 1978: 11) in the very first lines, which does not have a parallel in the extant Old Persian version but can apparently be a direct translation from the wellknown Old Persian term Pārsa martiya which is attested in DNa. 25 The style of this Babylonian version became a model for the later Babylonian Achaemenid inscriptions but contains some unique terms like uqu not repeated in Persepolis or Naghshe-Rostam texts. 26 This style—because of its oral nature—is so simple with an extreme tendency of repetitious passages and limited frequency of vocabularies. Putting aside some minor differences, the main structure of the Bisitun texts and the later Achaemenid inscriptions is almost the same. The RN kīʾam iqabbi “RN says thus” formula—with some changes—is repeated in most Achaemenid texts. This formula is a translation of the Old Persian RN θātiy and normally is not attested in the Mesopotamian royal inscriptions. Mesopotamian kings never used this phrase in their royal protocols. It mostly occurs as a typical formula at the beginning of the royal letters. This extreme repetition of the phrase “king says” is identical to a decorative phrase in Egyptian royal inscriptions in which most of their columns begin with dd mdw formula meaning “spoken words by (god/king)” that precede the following speech and one may assume a possible direct or indirect Egyptian influence on this style of the Achaemenid inscriptions which is more highlighted in Bisitun inscription. 27 The following examples show a brief scheme of Akkadian characteristics of the Achaemenid royal inscriptions that not only are unique in their literary style but present a special kind of Akkadian phraseology, which is neither accidental nor wholly affected by a translating process, but possibly was affected by the people—Aramaic, Elamite or Persian-speaking scribes—for whom Akkadian was not their native language. It is important to note that as is indicated by Greenfield and Porten (1982) Aramaic Bisitun inscription shares certain syntactic features with Akkadian versions of which a number of them can be found in the following passages; but some of these features are unique in Achaemenid-Aramaic as well so it cannot be justified which language was affected by the other. There is still another hypothesis that both had been disfigured by a third party of scribes.

2.2.  New Syntax and Word Order a. Using emphatic reflexive attū before names with the same suffix—rather than noun+ possessive suffix—is frequent in the Babylonian version of Bisitun inscription and also occurs in later Achaemenid texts: attūa abūa “my own father” 25.  As it will be discussed later, considering an Aramaic intermediary is also unlikely to accept. 26.  For this term see, Stolper (2006: 237). 27.  For an example see, OIP 166, Pl. 147:3,4,5,7.

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(AKK-DB 1=VAB 3 9:1=von Voigtlander 1978: 11), abūa attūa (Xerx.ca:10 and Xerx. Susa=VAB 3 115 b:2), dinātu attūa” my own law” (AKK-DB 9=VAB 3 13:9=von Voigtlander 1978: 11), lapānīya attūa “before me” (AKK-DB 9=VAB 3 13:9=von Voigtlander 1978: 11). Sometimes the possessed words have no possessive pronominal suffix: bītu attūnu “our own house” (AKK-DB 27=VAB 3 21 § 14:27=von Voigtlander 1978: 18), uqu attūa “my own army” (AKK-DB 46=VAB 3 31:46=von Voigtlander 1978: 24). It seems that the translators continued to use this form instead of simply writing the possessive pronominal suffixes like abūa. On the other hand, occurrence of attūa abūa “my own father” or zērīya attūa “my own race” have nothing to do with their Old Persian counterparts which are simply manā pitā “my father” and manā taumāyā “our family” in addition there is no evidence of such a possessive order in all Old Persian texts. It is notable to mention that attū in attributive terms is used before the name with the same suffix only in Bogh and EA texts: at-tu-ia a-bu-ia. 28 The same feature can be seen in the Aramaic version of Bisitun where the possession is expressed by noun+zyl rather than by possessive suffix, e.g., hylʾ zyly “my own troops” (Greenfield and Porten 1982). b. The unusual writing of ana anāku rather than its normal form, which is used with an independent pronoun in the dative like ana yāši, is attested in the Babylonian version of the Bisitun inscription: ina ṣilli (=GIŠ.MI) d.Urimizda ana anāku LÚ.ARAD ittūrūni “Under the protection of Ahuramazda they became my slaves” (AKK-DB VII § 7=VAB 3 13:7=von Voigtlander 1978: 12). This form cannot be considered as a mistake because in DPf which is written some years later the same writing is repeated: liṣṣur itti DINGIR.MEŠ gabbi ana anāku “may (Ahuramazda) with all gods protect me” (VAB 3 87:24). c. Using târu for the meaning “to become” is well-known and its standard Akkadian occurrence with ardu for a meaning “to become slave” is attested in AKK-DB but using this verb together with šarru seems to be unique in Achaemenid texts: arki ša ana šarri atūru “after I became king” (AKK-DB 10 § 11=VAB 3 15:11=von Voigtlander 1978: 13). Overall this is one of those examples which seem to be affected by the structure of Old Persian narrative which is: pasāva yaθā xšāyaθia abavam. d. Using ana +noun+ dâku instead of simply saying dâku for “to kill” and “to defeat” seems to be Assyrian in character: arki ša m.Kambuziya iddūku ana m.Barziya “after Cambyses killed Bardia” (AKK-DB 10 § 13=VAB 3 15:13=von Voigtlander 1978: 14), uqu attua iddūkū ana nikrūtu agâšunu (AKK-DB 25 § 46=VAB 3 31:46=von Voigtlander 1978: 24). This form is attested once in Assyrian letters: ana PN adi mārīšu iddūku “he killed PN together with his son” (ABL 1263=SAA I, 244: 13). Greenfield and Porten were the first to notice that this passage is syntactically similar to Aramaic “l” (eg., for) in “qṭlw lmrdy” (eg., killed the rebels) reaching the conclusion that “ana” in these passages is a marker for the direct object (1982: 29). e. mītūtu ramānīšu mīti “he died his own death” (AKK-DB 10 §17=VAB 3 17:17= von Voigtlander 1978: 15). There are many disputes over the meaning of this passage as to whether it refers to committing suicide or a natural death; however, a comparison with a passage of Sargon inscription shows a similar word order: mītūt qātēšu imūtu “he died by his hand.” The scribe of the Babylonian version of Bisitun changed this word order by writing ramānīšu rather than qātēšu and using verbal– adjective instead of preterite. The form mītum is also attested in a Xerxes text (CAD M/II 141). 28.  See, CAD A/II 515.

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f. Using dīku as the verbal-adjective of dâku occurred in Boghazkoy and Achaemenid texts: m.Barziya dīki “Bardia was killed” (AKK-DB 10 § 13=VAB 3 15 10 §13= von Voigtlander 1978:14), naphar dīku u balṭu ša uqu” the total slain and survivors of the army” (VAB 3 55:83). 29 g. ana RN šarri/šarru banû “to make someone king” is not attested in nonAchaemenid texts. This term is particularly used in the post-Naghshe-Rostam texts and Xerxes inscriptions for saying:” Ahuramazda made RN king,” a phrase that in a standard Akkadian way of writing could be DN RN ana šarruti iškun. It should be noted that ibnû is not a word-for-word translation of Old Persian akunauš. In the Xerxes inscription, some lines after this phrase, the verbs akunauš and akunaum are translated as “ītepuš” and “ēpuš” so if a word-for-word translation was intended, at least a phrase like DN RN šarra īpuš was expected to be a typical Akkadian phrase. The same occurred in Daruis Naghshe Rostam: [ša a]na m.Dāriyamuš šarru ša šarrāni mādutum ibnû (VAB 3 87:3). The closest Akkadian term to this phrase can be seen in an Ashurbanipal text: Sîn ša ibnânni ana šarrūti (CAD Š/II 119). So it seems that ana RN šarri/šarru banû was a special way of saying “to make someone king” in which once again “ana” is used as a marker of the direct object. ` umu “to bid, to command” only occurred in Achaemeneid inh. The verb tu scriptions: amēlu Ahurmazda ú-ta-ʾ-a-ma ina muhhīka lā imarruṣ” may what Ahurmazda commanded not displease you” (VAB 3 91:35). ana naphar mātāti gabbi ú-ta-ʾ-a-ma “ (Ahuramzda) who bade (Xerxes) to rule over all countries without exception” (VAB 3 111: 4, 117 d: 9). In the Xerxes inscription this passage has no Old Persian counterpart. CAD considers a possible derivation from ṭêmu, cf. CAD T 500. i. Using the word nikrūtu for “rebellious” and “enemy” is only attested in Achaemenid royal texts: nikrūtu iphurūnimma ittalkū ana tarṣi m.Umissu ana ēpēš tāhāza (AKK-DB 38 §81=von Voigtlander 1978: 26). The normal form is nakrūtu. j. Occurrence of the word uqu with the double meaning “army/people” instead of ummānu or nīšu preserves the Achaemenid usage and, among the Achaemenid royal inscriptions, only occurred in DB (Stolper 2006: 237). This word is a translation of Old Persian kāra and differs from nīšu in other Achaemenid texts. It seems that the scribe of the Babylonian version of DB intentionally used uqu to show a particular group of people and thus distinguished it from ordinary people which were nīšu.

Conclusion Despite the abnormal features in Achaemenid-Akkadian texts, an exact comparison between Babylonian versions of the Achaemenid inscriptions and Old Persian texts makes it clear that although we are not aware of the main Old Persian texts which were the base of the extant Babylonian versions, the scribes and translators did make fewer mistakes in their understanding of the Old Persian terms and their efforts show a well-developed translation technique. Von Voigtlander (1978: 8) was the first who pointed out that the Akkadian version is more accurate than the Elamite. She also addressed the different attestations of pronunciations of the Babylonian words in Bisitun inscription and infers that at least nine engraver29.  For the attestations of this word in Boghazkoy texts, see CAD D 140.

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scribes were involved in the creation of this version (Von Voigtlander 1978: 6). 30 The frequency of the same idiosyncrasies in all Babylonian versions of the Achaemenid inscriptions, while there were different scribes during the Achaemenid period, indicates a fixed literary style. As a result, it can be claimed that the Akkadian language of these texts did not descend from standard or neo-Babylonian. Here is not the place to discuss this matter in detail but briefly the same fact—I think—is true about the Achaeminid Elamite. The way of the linguistic and grammatical changes in the Achaemenid Elamite had an unexpected shift that was apparently different from the gradual evolution of the middle-Elamite to the neo-Elamite. 31 Françoise Grillot (1987:43), in her brilliant Elamite Grammar, considers the non-normal phraseology in the Achaemenid Elamite as an influence from the Old Persian: A l`époque achéménide les propositions subordonnées ne respectent pas toujours l`orde habituel de la phrase et peuvent se trouver rejetées après le verbe de la ` ells complétent. Cet orde nouveau peut s`expliquer naturellement proposition qu par l`influence des tournures du vieux-perse.

In some parts the Akkadian translators had no choice but to follow a word-forword translation like unusual frequent use of the demonstrative pronoun agâ after the words: bīt agâ/ahannâ agâ etc. Sometimes in special Old Persian terms like vispazana or paruzana” having many men/races” they preferred to interpret the word instead of writing them as loan words: xšāyaθ iya dahyūnām paruzanānām is translated to šar mātāte ša naphar lišānāte gabbi “king of the countries with all languages” (VAB 3 87 c:4). It seems that naphar lišānāte gabbi or naphar lišānū as a translation for paruzana is the special and unique concept of the translator of the Babylonian version of this term. In some Elamite versions it is written as parruzananam that is a phonetic rendering of OP: paruzanānām. 32 The Elamite scribe made no change in what he heard because paruzanānām is the genitive-plural form of paruzana and it was expected that the Elamite scribe would at least use the Elamite plural suffix. Parruzananam is attested seven times in Achaemenid Elamite inscriptions in which there is just one case with parruzanašbena form of writing, which is grammatically correct. 33 So naphar lišānāte gabbi or naphar lišānū, although it is not a word-for-word translation of paruzana, can be considered as a reasonable interpretation of this Old Persian term and one may think that the Babylonian translator had good knowledge of the original language. In a comparison between the personal names attested in Babylonian and Elamite versions of the Achaemenid inscriptions it can be seen that the pronunciation of the Iranian personal names and loanwords written in the Babylonian translation is closer to Old Persian forms than what is recorded in Elamite versions. 34 Even the name of the Persian god Ahuramazdā from Urimizda/Uramazda in the Akkadian version of Bisitun changed to Ahurumazda in later texts, which is more similar to its Old Persian form. On the other hand, it has been long recognized that the Babylonian 30.  To the exact deduction of von Voigtlander, I just add the attestation of şeltu in lines 37 and 46 and its quick change to şaltu in line 49 (von Voigtlander 1978: 25) that clearly indicates two different kinds of dialects. 31.  The syntax used in the Achaemenid Elamite was a new phenomenon throughout the history of the Elamite language; see Grillot (1987: 39–44). 32.  See, VAB 3 102:15. 33.  See VAB 3 118:12. 34.  Tavernier`s book (2006) is a full, detailed reference for such a comparison.

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version of Bisitun inscription used the Median form of geographical names (Beaulieu 2006: 203). The name of many scribes which are mentioned in PF texts seem to have Iranian origin like “Bakadušda” (PF 268), “Bakakeya” (PF 1805), “Bakapikna”(PF 1798) and although it is impossible to get a conclusion from the etymology of the personal names leading up to the ethnicity of the people, PF 871 and PF 1137 speak of Persian group of students who were copying texts: puhu Paršipe tuppime sapimanba. The gradual disappearance of the Elamite language necessitated a substitute language and the Iranian language could be a possibility. Despite the considerable number of Old Persian terms that are borrowed from Elamite texts, the Elamite words which have remained in Iranian language are few. Perhaps one of the rare Elamite loanwords preserved in modern Farsi is “dabir,” which would certainly be a metamorphic form of Elamite teppir, and this fact may put forth the possibility of considering Old Persian as a dominant spoken language. Tavernier considers Elamite teppir with two possibilities: firstly as the multilingual scribes and secondly as the bilingual scribes (2008:73). In all Achamaenid documents there is no indication of the presence of highly educated Babylonian scribes who might be involved in writing royal correspondence. Using the verb sepēru for writing in Aramaic in opposition to the verb šaṭāru in one of Sargon’s letter (CT 54 10:16) indicates that sepīru and ṭupšarru were two different types of scribes that is to say: sepīru—as CAD confirms—was probably not attributed to the scribes who used to write Akkadian on tablets. Sepīru in Murašû texts reflects the official persons who made or received payments. Even in the Hellenistic period the tradition of Akkadian writing was alive among the scribal families like Ekur-zākir who LÚ.DUB was one of their epithets (passim in TCL 6); in other words, the purpose of writing was the main factor in defining the scientific class of the scribes. A skillful Akkadian scribe was not a sepīru which means a scribe like Ekur-zākir who was not supposed to write on parchment or scroll rolls. The Persepolis fortification tablets speak of paying rations to the Babylonian scribes who were writing on parchment: tuppip Paplip KUŠ ukkuna (PF 1810) to Babylonian scribes on parchment.” The term tuppip Paplip/Papilip is attested eight times in Persepolis Fortifications texts published by Hallock (1969) in which five times are written together with KUŠ.lg uk-ku-na. The emphasis on the word KUŠ “parchment, leather” may refer to writing the Aramaic script and Aramaic language. So it can be claimed that the Babylonian scribes writing on parchment that are mentioned in PF texts were sepīru, not Akkadian ṭupšarru. Now some essential questions can be posed as to how a native Babylonian or Aramaic scribe was actually able to learn a language like Old Persian with grammar which was archaic even at the time of the composition of the Achaemenid inscriptions. And how the scribes of the Babylonian version of Bisitun were able to get a deep knowledge of a language whose script was invented sometimes later. It is very hard to imagine any school or academic place existed for teaching Iranian language at least in the early years of the reign of Darius. This fact may provide an answer to this problem that why Darius despite using the best architects, designers and even the most precious materials in his projects, did not benefit from the skillful Akkadian scribes. Considering a secondary nature for the Babylonian versions of the Achaemenid inscriptions as a translation from the Aramaic versions or viceversa is also misleading. Despite some similarities between the Babylonian and Aramaic version of Bisitun inscription, there are serious differences which make considering the Aramaic version as an intermediate for the Babylonian translation

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out of question. In addition, if one assumes an alloglottography process for these texts, then a direct re-translation was necessary from each text to Old Persian. The Assyrian and Aramaic bilingual texts from the Neo-Assyrian empire together with the activity shown on the relief of Tiglath-Pileser III and on later ones in which a scribe of cuneiform with a tablet in his hands and a scribe of Aramaic holding a scroll roll write parallel records (Millard 1983; Wiseman 1955), matches with the claim of Darius in DB where he says the text was written on tablet and on parchment which means—as it was usual in neo-Assyrian period—the writing of the Babylonian version and the Aramaic one was probably done at the same time. In addition, two scribes heard the same dictation and this may explain why these two versions have more similarities. 35 According to all mentioned above, one may propose this hypothesis that the scribes of the Babylonian version of the Achaemenid inscriptions were not those skillful Akkadian ṭupšarrus. Although Babylonian versions of Achaemenid inscriptions, like most of the Akkadian royal texts, are written in Babylonian dialect, common features between these texts and Assyrian letters and some Boghazkoy texts show the influence of Assyrianism. These alleged enigmatic writers were probably bilingual scribes well-acquainted with Aryan languages although their Akkadian was a particular and special one, which was common outside the border of Mesopotamia. They could be Aramaic bilingual scribes with Assyrian heritage who had mastered Iranian languages after the fall of Assyria and during the Median period. In an early Pahlavi text, Yādēgār-e-zarīrān, which its story is about Zoraoster`s era and the names of its all personages are either Iranian or Turanian, the name of the royal scribe is Ābrāhēm. So it not unlikely to suggest that such a Semitic name echoes a historical reality. 36 From another view some common features between Pahlavi literature and Babylonian texts like fables, precepts and literary passages should be pre-Sassanians. Sidney Smith was the first one who noticed that the Pahlavi fable “Assyrian Tree” is completely based on the form of Babylonian fables. 37 There are some literary expressions in Pahlavi literature which are the word-for-word translations of their Babylonian counterparts. As an example, one can refer to a particular Pahlavi phrase like pad baxt šudan “going to fate/ to die” which with a high degree of possibility could be a word-for-word translation from the known Babylonian term ana šīmti alāku (eg., ana=pad, šīmtu=baxt, alāku=šudan). 38 It seems that what Matthew Stolper (2006: 223) cited from Zsigmond Telegdi about the Achaemenid origin of the older Iranian names in the Talmud can be also attributed to some Pahlavi literary aspects. So all in all, the possibility of an Iranian ethnicity of the Achameneid scribes who mastered both Akkadian and Aramaic, cannot be completely ruled out and one may make a comparison between their possible influence on the Akkadian language and the interference of Iranian scribes in Arabian chancery after Islam which created a special kind of Arabic literary style. The cylinder of Antiochos I, written in a standard Babylonian phraseology shows the continuity of the old tradition and antiquarianism of the Babylonian royal inscriptions in the Mesopotamia which was completely different 35.  “This (is) the form of writing, which I made, besides, in Aryan. Both on clay tablets and on parchment it has been placed.” See Schmitt (1991: 73–74). 36.  Ābrāhēm dibīrān mahist abar pāy ēstād ud farwardag pad buland xwānd” Ābrāhēm the great scribe stood up and read out the letter loud”; see Jamasp-Asana (1897: 2). 37.  Smith 1932; Brunner 1980. 38.  For the occurrence of this Pahlavi passage in an inscription, see Tafazzoli (1997: 549).

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from non-normative phraseology and literary style of the Babylonian version of the Achaemenid inscriptions and bears witness to buttress the hypothesis of considering a genuine local scribal tradition for Akkadian in Persia and Elamite territories during the Achaemenid period. 39 39.  See Weissbach (1911: 132–134).

References Boiy, T. 2004 Hellenistic Legal Documents from Uruk in the “Royal Museum of Art and History.” Akkadica 124: 19–64. Brunner, C. J. 1980 The Fable of the Babylonian Tree (I). JNES 39: 191–202. Cooper, J.S. 1973 Sumerian and Akkadian in Sumer and Akkad. Orientalia n.s. 42: 239–246. Dandamayev, M. A. 1992 Iranians in Achaemenid Babylonia. Columbia Lectures on Iranian Studies VI. Edited by E. Yarshater. CA and New York: Mazda Publishers. Dietrich, M. 1979 Neo-Babylonian Tablets from the Kuyunjik Collection. London: The British Museum Publications Ltds. Greenfield, J. C., and Porten B. 1982 The Bīsitūn Inscription of Darius the Great: Aramaic Version. Corpus Inscriptionum Iranicarums. London: Lund Humphries. Grillot-Susini, F. 1987 Éléments de Grammaire Élamite. Paris: Edition Recherche sur les civilisations. Hallock, R. T. 1969 Persepolis Fortification Tablets. Oriental Institute Publication 92. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Harper, R. F. 1892 Assyrian and Babylonian Letters. Part 10. Edited by Holland, T. A., and Urban, T. G. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. 1998 Reliefs and Inscriptions at Luxor Temple. Volume 2. Plates 129–227. The Facade, Portals, Upper Register Scenes, Columns, Marginalia, and Statuary in the Colonnade Hall. Texts, Commentary and Glossary translated by Epigraphic Survey. Oriental Institute Publication 116. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Jamasp-Asana, J. 1897 Pahlavi Texts. Bombay: Fort Printing Press. Kent, R. G. 1953 Old Persian Grammar,Text. Lexicon. American Oriental Series 33. King, L. W. and Campell Thompson, R. 1907 The Sculptures and Inscription of Darius the Great on the Rock of Behistûn in Persia. London. Labat, R. and Edzard, D. O. 1974 Textes littéraires de Suse. Ville Royal de Suse 11. Mémoires de la Délégation Archéologique en Perse, 57. Paris: Paul Geuthner. Luckenbill, D. D. 1924 The Annals of Sennacherib. Oriental Institute Publication 2. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Millard, A. R. 1983 Assyrians and Arameans. Iraq 45: 101–108.

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Michalowski, P. 2006 The lives of the Sumerian Language. Pp. 159–184 in Margin of Writings. Origin of Cultures. Edited by Edith Sanders. Oriental Institute Seminars 2. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Nawwabi, M. and Jamasp-Asa, K. 1976 Manuscript D10a. Dinkard books 4–9 (Part One). Shiraz: Asia Institute of Pahlavi University of Shiraz. Nida, E. A. and Wonderly, W. L. 1971 Communication Roles of Languages in Multilingualism Societies. Pp. 57–74 in Language Use and Social Change Problems of Multilingualism with Special References to Eastern Africa. Edited by W.H. Whitley. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Rubio, G. 2006 Writing in another Language: Alloglottography in the Ancient Near East. Pp. 33–66 in In Margin of Writing, Origins of Culture. Edited by S. L. Sanders. Oriental Institute Seminars 2. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Schmitt, R. 1991 The Bīsitūn Iscription of Darius the Great. Corpus Iscriptionum Iranicarum 1/1. London: Lund Humphries. Smith, S. 1926 Notes on Assyrian Tree. BSOAS 4: 69–76. Stolper, M. W. 1985 Entrepreneurs and Empire: The Murašu archive, the Murašu firm and Persian Rule in Babylonia. Nederlands: Historisch Archaeologisch Institute Istanbul. 2005 Achaemenid Languages and Inscriptions. Pp. 18–24 in Forgotten Empire. Edited by John Curtis, Nigel Tallis, Béatrice Adré-Salvini. University of California Press. 2006 Iranica in Post-Achaemenid Babylonian Texts. Pp.  223–260 in La Transition Entre l`Émpire Achéménide et Les Royaume Héllenestiques. Edited by Pierre Briant et Francis Joannès. Winona Lake Indiana: Eisenbrauns. Strassmier, H. J. N. 1890 Inschriften von Cyrus von Babylon. Leipzig. Tafazzoli, A. 1997 Persian Translation of Pahlavi Inscription of Sange Mazar (Parishan Lake). Kelk 80/83: 549. Tavernier, J. 2006 Iranica in the Achaemenid Period, Lexicon of Old Iranian Names and Loanwords, Attested in non-Iranian Texts. Lueven Peeters. 2008 Multilingualism in the Fortification and Treasury archives. Persika 12: 59–86. 2011 Iranians in neo-Elamite Texts. Pp. 191–261 in Elam and Persia. Edited by J. ÁlvarezMon and Mark B.Garrison. Winona Lake Indiana: Eisenbrauns. Thureau-Dangin, F. ed. 1922 Tablettes d`Uruk. Paris: Paul Geuthner. von Viogtlander, E. N. 1978 The Bīsitūn Inscription of Darius the great: Babylonian Version. Corpus Inscriptonum Iranicarum. London: Lund Humphries. Weissbach, F. H. 1911 Die Keilinschriften der Achämeniden. Leipzig. Wiseman, D. J. 1955 Assyrian Writing Boards. Iraq 17: 2–13. Woods, C. 2006 Bilingualism, Scribal Learning and the Death of Sumerian. Pp.  159–184 in Margin of Writings. Origin of Cultures. Edited by E. Sanders. Oriental Institute Seminars 2. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Aspects of Royal Authority and Local Competence: A Perspective from Nuzi Anne Löhnert Munich

The kingdom of Arrapḫe is known as a “petty kingdom,” under the political sovereignty of the Mitanni overlords. 1 Although small in geographic dimension when compared with other ancient Near Eastern kingdoms, states and/or empires, 2 Arrapḫe had a well-established government. While the administrative organization of the kingdom of Arrapḫe remains largely opaque in its details, it is apparent that it was equipped with an intricate range of officials and functionaries, and an efficient network of political and economic administration. 3 At the center and top of this system was the LUGAL, the king. 4 Judging from the textual evidence for Arrapḫe, stemming mainly from the town of Nuzi, 5 the kingdom seems to have been self-governing to a certain extent. Without any insights from the political capital, Arrapḫe (modern Kirkuk), we can nevertheless state the following: There is no evidence that officials were appointed by the Mittani government, nor did Arrapḫe pay frequent tributes of significant value. 6 1.  E.g., Dosch (1993: 2); Lion (2008: 72); Maidman (2010: 4). 2.  Political entities such as the Ur-III state, Ḫammurapi’s kingdom, or the Neo-Assyrian Empire. The definition of kingdom, state and empire is an issue of a long standing discussion, on which see most recently Postgate (2010: 20) and RlA s.v. “Staat.” 3. See e.g., Cassin (1974: 381–390: “officiers du roi”), Mayer (1978: X: “Reichsverwaltung”) and Zaccagnini (2003: 568–571: “organs of government”). To be added are the ša rēši, who may have been an equivalent to the officials known from the Mari until the Neo-Assyrian period (CAD R: 293b-294). Other, unknown Hurrian terms may have to be included (e.g., Mayer 1978: XII-f.). Note that military functionaries like emantuhlu/GAL 10 “decurio,” or rākib rakabti “charioteers” (see Dosch 1993; 2009) should be introduced as the political security heavily relied on the military force. Its inner organization was in the hands of certain families, the general organization seems to have been under central governmental control. Assyria upon its defeat over Arrapḫe borrowed Hurrian terms for officials into its governmental structure (Jakob 2003: 7, 141). Of these, mašennu “steward” may have already been an official in Arrapḫe. Furthermore, the Neo-Assyrian/Neo-Babylonian term sartennu “chief judge” is also first attested in the Nuzi (Jursa 2010: 90). 4.  The only treatment of the role of the king is Chow (1973). The royal impact within Arrapḫe is still lacking a comprehensive study; this issue is now the topic of two recent studies (Philippe Abrahami, Les céréales dans les textes du palais de Nuzi (Yorghan Tepe–Iraq, 14ème s. av. J.-C.); Anne Löhnert, Ausübung und Delegation von königlicher Macht. Die Palastarchive von Nuzi). 5. Of the provenanced textual records, the site of Tell Fakhar, ca. 45 km southwest of Kirkuk also yielded more than 456 tablets, of which only a small number have been published (Koliński 2002, esp. pp. 11–14). 6.  The prime payment of “tribute” are the chariots taken from the iškaru “work-assignment” and given to envoys from Ḫanigalbat (= Mittani); see Zaccagnini (1979: 15 f.); on the Middle Assyrian iškaru see most recently Postgate (2010: 21–29). However, only one chariot each time during the ginūnu-festival is handed out (Kendall 1975: 63).

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On the level of internal policy, it was the king of Arrapḫe who granted realestate such as fields and houses (Koliński 2001: 111–115). Only once does the Mittani king re-assign an estate that had previously been given to Amminaya, the local queen of Nuzi (HSS IX, 1; Koliński 2001: 111; Wilhelm 2006, Nr. 1). In terms of foreign policy, the situation was two-pronged. On the one hand Arrapḫe took care of its own diplomatic relationships. Not only did envoys (ubāru) from Ḫanigalbat—that is, from Mittani—receive goods during their visits, also envoys from Babylonia, Assyria and Mari 7 were hosted at gatherings and were handed out gifts. 8 On the other hand, Arrapḫe’s defence relied on Mittani’s support and intervention. Thus, Mittani’s presence is most obvious when it came to military aid (Kendall 1975: 62–64; Dosch 1993: 12f.; Lion 2008) and rebuilding projects (Lion 2010). As the situation is presently to be understood, despite being under Mittani sovereignty Arrapḫe’s government enjoyed considerable independence from the “central government” both on the political and administrative level. It was however, quite dependent on Mittani’s military in times of crisis. Thus, turning to Arrapḫe’s internal matters, it was the king of Arrapḫe who represented the sole and central royal authority within his kingdom. 9 Obviously, the king could not physically participate in every act of administration. As in any other political formation we find thus in Arrapḫe a system of control which was based on a tight and rigid network of communication. The principal mechanism to ensure allegiance to the political center was to establish a line of subordination and a system of traceable responsibilities. Any failure or disobedience entailed punishment. Along with the practice of sealing, a most visible marking of responsibility, 10 letters and decrees best highlight the transmission of authority. Interestingly, this authority was not only exercised on a vertical chain of top-to-bottom but also included a horizontal line, and it comprised mechanisms which can be labeled as “an increase of employee motivation.”

The Royal Command Letters and decrees issued by the king to his subordinates were the most direct way of communicating royal orders. To present, eight royal letters and seven royal decrees are known from the Nuzi text corpus. 11 The common address-line of the let7.  For the toponym Mari see most recently Shibata (2011, esp. pp. 101–104). 8.  See Mayer (1978: 5 fn. 2); Zaccagnini (1979: 15–19). 9.  Mittani in its entire political formation might be equaled to a federal state or Bundesstaat (see already Giorgeri 2005: 80 with previous literature in fn. 80). 10.  On sealing practices at Nuzi see Stein (1993; 2009) and the author’s forthcoming study on delegation and execution of royal power in Arraphe. For present purposes, it suffices to note that the sealing of a document was an act that both displayed authority and acknowledged responsibility. In decrees and instructions the sealing party displayed authority. While the seals on receipt for goods and on receipts of decrees mark an acknowledgement of responsibility or a duty to be fulfilled (examples will be discussed below). For a concise overview of sealing practices leading up to the Neo-Assyrian period, see Radner (2008, esp. pp. 481–486, 508–511). 11.  For the decrees see Müller (1968); five decrees are included below in Tab. 2 (AASOR XVI, 51 and HSS XIV, 9 are decrees with diverging formulas; see n. 14). The royal letters are: HSS IX, 2 (A 26; to Urḫiya); HSS IX, 3 (A 34; to Ellipapu); HSS XIV, 14 (C 19; to Šarteššup, decurio [GAL 10]); HSS XIV, 19 (C 28; to Sarteššup, decurio [GAL 10]); HSS XIV, 17 (C 19; to Ḫutipapu); HSS XIV, 32 (N 120; no addressee); HSS XV, 289 (F 24; to Tišammušni?; see Deller/ Fadhil 1972, Nr. 8); JEN 494 (Tehiptilla room 13; to the decuria [emantuḫlu]; see Deller 1983: 19f.). For

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ters was ana PN qibī-ma umma LUGAL-ma, “To PN speak. Thus says the king.” 12 The decrees usually started with kinanna (ana?) 13 PN LUGAL ṭēma iškun/ištakan, “Indeed (for?) PN: The king issued the decree.” 14 But the royal command also appears in the communication between subordinates, namely in six letters and one “memorandum tablet” (ṭuppi taḫsilti). In these cases, the sender relayed the king’s wish or demand by quoting the royal dictum: umma lū LUGAL-ma-mi “Thus the king said,” LUGAL iqtabi “The king said”; LUGAL ištapra “The king sent (the following request),” LUGAL irriš/iqbīšunu “the king asks for” and LUGAL ultēdi-mi u iqtabi “The king lets know and said” (see table 1).

Table 1 Text and find spot HSS XIV, 16 C 19 (Zike)

Communicating parties Ḫašiptilla to Šarteššup (decurio?)

Phrase umma lū LUGAL-ma-mi “Thus the king (said)”

(4)

umma lū LUGAL-ma-mi “Thus the king said”

HSS IX, 6 Ḫašiptilla to Puitaea A 26 (Šilwateššup)

(4)

HSS IX, 5 Tirwenatal to Tamartae, Šukkitilla and A 14 (Šilwateššup) Ḫeltiptilla

(7)

JEN 195 [. . .] to Ipšaḫalu?b Tehiptilla, room 16

(12) LUGAL ultēdi-mi u iqtabi “The king lets know and said”

umma lū LUGAL-ma-mi “Thus the king said”

LUGAL ištapra “The king sent (the following request)”

HSS XIV, 23 C 19 (Zike)c

Wirraḫḫe, no addresseed

(2)

HSS XV, 292 N 120 (Palace)

Ḫašiptilla and Tarmiteššup to Kartiperwi

(8)

HSS V, 104 A 34 (Akkuya)e

Urhiya to Turari in Nuzi and mayor of Anzukalli

(19) u LUGAL iqbīšunu “The king asked for them”

LUGAL irriš “The king requests”

a.  The sender Ḫašiptilla seals the letter (Stein 1993, seal no. 449). b.  The tablet is designated on the left edge as (24)ṭuppi taḫsilti “memorandum.” c.  See also Negri Scafa 2009: 463. d.  The sender Wirraḫḫe seals the letter. e.  See Chow 1973: 137f.

an overview of these letters see Chow 1973: 180–183. For a royal letter found in Tell Fakhar see Deller 1983: 21f. Some of the letters were sealed but only the letter from Tell Fakhar undoubtedly bore the seal of the king. The sealed letters HSS IX, 2 and HSS IX, 3 were probably not sealed by the king but by persons of unspecified functions; the question of the royal seal on JEN 494 will be reassessed by the author elsewhere. 12.  Only HSS XIV, 32 does not give the name of the addressee. 13.  Maidman (2010, no. 8) reconstructs ana in the broken part of the instruction to the mayor of the town of Tašuḫḫe(we) HSS XV, 1 l. 1. This reconstruction is based on the long-standing assumption that the tablet bears the seal of the king, which makes the king the sender and the mayor the addressee (2010: 236, fn. 83). However, the similarly formulated royal decree HSS XIV, 10 is sealed by the scribe Rīm-Sîn. Despite the efforts of Deller (1983) to identify Mušteya who sealed HSS XV, 1 as the king of the same name, this identification is highly problematic and remains unproven. 14.  HSS XIV, 9 (Müller 1968: 89–174) combines the formulas of a decree and a letter: (1)kinanna LUGAL [. . .] (2)LU2.MEŠ ša ina GN (3)uštēdi umma (4)lū LUGAL-ma, “Thus indeed the king. . . . He lets the inhabitants of GN know: Thus the king.” This decree is sealed by the scribe Akulenni and the vizier (SUGAL7) Akiya. AASOR XVI, 51 (Müller 1968: 7–42), an instruction to the palace staff starts with (1) šūdûtu annû, “this proclamation,” and continues with (5)umma LUGAL-ma, “thus the king:” This decree is sealed by Ḫeltipapu and Qartiperwi. See further on šūdûtu “proclamation” Lion (1999: 319f.).

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The word of the king had a binding character, and any delay or even disobedience caused some sort of reprimand as the recurring phrases arnu ina muhhīka/kunu “you bear the responsibility” and PN ina arni kašid “PN committed an offense” suggest. 15 The consequences for the person with newly gained responsibility or for the offender of royal orders seem to have varied from case to case. Texts sometimes mention reports to be given in the palace, and in at least one instance the transgressor’s propriety was expropriated. 16

LUGAL ṭēma iškun: The king Issued a Decree The king’s spoken words, quoted in the above manner, already had a binding character. But it was the king’s written word that was the ultimate command. This ultimate command is embodied in the term ṭēmu “decree,” which routinely appears in the phrase LUGAL ṭēma iškun/ištakan/ĜAR “the king issued a decree” in royal decrees. Interestingly, this exact phrase is also used in four letters (see in tab. 2), of which the letter HSS XIV, 21 17 shall serve as starting point for a closer review of the ṭēmu at Nuzi. In AASOR XVI, 76 = HSS XIV, 20, Tatipteššup is informed that the domestics of Šeḫalteššup have stolen goods. He does not take measures himself but writes to Šeḫramušni to take care of the problem, and mentions the king in whose legal realm this case would be embedded. 18 Again, it is not Šeḫramušni who brings Šeḫalteššup before the king, but he sends the letter HSS XIV, 21 to Akiptašenni: To Akiptašenni speak. Thus Šeḫramušni: Now, the personnel of Šeḫalteššup stole and will give (the stolen goods) for sale to the land Nullu. Now, entrust Šeḫalteššup to me?, so that he may examine them. (rev. 13–20) You–seize all the persons of the town of Nuzi who go into the land Nullu and who carry neither tablet (ṭuppu) nor seal (NA4.KIŠIB). Bring them to me! (21–25) Did not the king issue a decree (LUGAL ṭēma lā iškunmî)? 19 If it happens/ has already happened that people escape, I will name you before the king (šunka ana LUGAL aqabbi)! (obv. 1–3) (4-rev 12)

15.  These phrases occur in the royal letter HSS XV, 289 l. 20, the royal decree HSS XV, 1 l. 37 and in reference to the king’s word in letter HSS V, 104 l. 20. 16. E.g., HSS IX, 6 ll. 17f.: “If there is no one (who confesses to the illegal purchase of a slave woman), one person who is like you shall come to the king.” HSS XV, 1 l. 47: “and into the palace he may come” (latest treatment by Maidman 2010, no. 8); the same text stipulates expropriation of disobedient lords of the dimtu-district (l. 38) and demands reports to the king (ll. 39–40). In HSS XVI, 21 the sender of the letter threatens with naming before the king (see discussion below). 17.  HSS XIV, 21 is preceded by the letter AASOR XVI, 76 = HSS XIV, 20. Both letters have been translated by Wilhelm (1990: 308f.; 2006: 103). 18. The letter reads: (obv.  1–3)To Šeḫramušni speak. Thus Tatipteššup: (4–16)The house personnel of Šeḫalteššup went to glean barley in the dimtu-district Tamkarra and stole. Let Šeḫalteššup name all the thieves. Seize them and bring them before the king (ina UGUḫi LUGAL šūbilaššunūti)! Morrison (1993: 59f.) also discusses these two letters. According to her interpretation of HSS XIV, 21, the domestics of Šeḫalteššup were kidnapped. But this does not conform to the verbal form in l. 5 since iš-ri-qu2-uš is not an N-stem. Such an interpretation is also at odds with the chronological logic of events as the preceding letter HSS XIV, 20 clearly states in l. 9 that the domestics had committed theft (iš-ri-qu2). 19. The understanding of la iš-ku-un-mi-i (with plene-writing of—i) in l. 21 as question follows Wilhelm (1990: 309, fn. 14).

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Šeḫramušni demands that Akiptašenni bring Šeḫalteššup, the owner of the domestics who had previously been caught stealing goods. Not only that, Šeḫramušni orders Akiptašenni to take measures in order to prevent people from leaving the country without proper documents. This implies that Akiptašenni had the capacity to control a geographic area. But despite his authority to oversee the borders and to detain people, Akiptašenni had to transfer the sought-after man to Šeḫramušni instead of bringing him directly to the king. The explicit straightforwardness of Šeḫramušni suggests that he was superior to Akiptašenni. As Wilhelm (1990: 308) already pointed out, Akiptašenni is most likely to be identified with the ĜAR KUR/šakin māti, the governor of the town of Azuhinni in the eastern part of Arrapḫe, near the border with the land Nullu. In this function, he not only seals two lists of women who travelled from the town of Temtena(š) to Azuhinni 20 but he is also the recipient of the royal decree HSS XIII, 36. 21 This decree was issued to ensure the safe travels of a man called Ḫašimaru to the land Nullu, and Akiptašenni, the governor was held responsible for the traveller’s security. 22 The decree invokes the typical formula LUGAL ṭēma ĜARan (ištakan) (l. 3). In light of the legally binding meaning, it may not have been a coincidence that the text concludes with the prospect of a harsh punishment, should Akiptašenni fail in is duty: (18–21) “Akiptašenni will not be sent to the river ordeal, but he will be put to death (idukkū).” Being a governor, Akiptašenni ranked among the officials with supra-regional authority. Šeḫramušni’s function is not entirely clear. According to Wilhelm (2006: 103) he held some sort of function as prosecutor, according to Morrison (1993: 59f.) he was the majordomo of Šeḫalteššup’s household in Nuzi. Either way, Šeḫramušni refers in his letter to the royal ṭēmu, the royal decree. He does not present it as a mere statement, but instead wraps it in a rhetorical question: “Did not the king issue a decree?” This suggests that Akiptašenni had also previously been notified about the stolen goods, and apparently Šeḫramušni saw the necessity to remind him of his duty in this matter. Even more remarkable is that Šeḫramušni also stresses that he would not hesitate to hold Akiptašenni responsible before the king by denouncing him should Akiptašenni fail to take action. 20.  HSS XVI, 387 and HSS XVI, 398. HSS XVI, 387 (collated) reads: (obv. 1–6)The women by the names Unammi, Tuppelenna, Annummi (an-nu-um-mi), Tuwurnaya, Yamaštu and Allainaya–(7-rev.  16)these six women of the governorate (ḫalṣu) and city Azuḫinni together with their . . . Mr Ḫupita will give them back to the hand of Akiptašenni, the governor when the women return from the city Temtena(š). (seal impression) Seal of Akiptašenni (same seal impression). HSS XVI, 398 reads: (obv. 1–6)The women by the names Unammi, Tuppelenna, Anummi? (dU-um-mi), Tuwurnaya, Yamaštu and Allainaya–(7-rev.  18)these six women of the governorate [and city Azuḫinni?], their six clothes, five ḫuburnu-flasks (of fragranced oil), their six pairs of šuḫuppatu-boots, together with their paḫussu-headgears and their ḫaštari-shoes? are given to Mr Piriya, the tarkumazu-chariot driver of Akiptašenni. From the hand of Ḫupita he took them. (seal impression) Seal of Ḫupita (seal impression) Seal of Akiptašenni, the governor (seal impression) Before Watea (seal impression) Seal of Akkiya. (The sealing of the governor Akiptašenni was left out in the publication of HSS XVI, 398; this sealing is only preserved in hand copies housed at the Harvard Semitic Museum). 21.  Müller (1968: 292–303); see further Frymer-Kensky (1977: 314–316), whose understanding of the text does in some instances not reflect the given grammar correctly. 22.  And by sealing this document, Akiptašenni acknowledged visibly his responsibility.

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By referring to the royal decree, Šeḫramušni acted under some sort of royal authority which provided him with a power which even a governor like Akiptašenni had to respect. Šeḫramušni was aware of the consequence would Akiptašenni fail and he expressed his intent to use his power that came along with the king’s decree. There is no evidence for what consequences Akiptašenni would have faced in reality. The royal decree HSS XIII, 36 stipulates death, which may not have been meant literally, but may have been used to emphasize the urgency of the royal command. 23 No matter what, to have been denounced before the king was certainly not a desirable position. The occurrence of ṭēma šakānu in Šeḫramušni’s letter does not stand out as a single case within the Nuzi text corpus. As already mentioned above, this formula occurs frequently both in royal decrees and in letters (table 2, p. 341). 24 The context of this phrase is always connected with royal authority, an authority that could be transferred to people regardless of their hierarchy or affiliation to the official administrative body. Special situations called for special authority and competence. On that note, the line of transmission of authority can be nicely traced in the royal letter HSS XIV, 14 (Deller/Fadhil 1972: 210–212; Negri Scafa 2009: 466f.): To Šarteššup, the decurio (GAL 10) speak. Thus the king: Now, have the vizier (SUGAL7) and the priest/temple representative (SANGA) ride a pair of good horses (6–7)and send them to Ḫutipapu in the town of Zizza. (8–9) Ḫutipapu shall send them to the town of Apena(š), (10–11)so that they may seize those priestesses (NIN.MEŠ) who are present. (lo.e.)(12–13)Furthermore, a messenger shall come to the dimtu-district Nawiye. (rev.)(14–15)As soon as he is brought in, set up a feast (mēlultu). (16–18)Also, send out foot soldiers so that they may search the dimtu-districts. (19)They are at your disposal. (20–21)Have the vizier (SUGAL7) and the priest (SANGA) enter Apena(š). (22–23)To the people of Apena(š) they shall issue a decree as follows (kinanna-ma ṭēma ĜARnu): (24–25a) “The people are given at your disposal (LU2.MEŠ ana qātīka nadnū)!” (25b-u.e.27)Watch out that they do not cut off your head. (le.e.)(28–30)As soon as the messenger arrives from Apena(š), set up a feast (mēlultu). (obv.1‑3a) (3b-5)

The king instructs the “Commander of Ten” Šarteššup to provide the vizier and the priestly representative with good horses, so that they could ride to Mr. Ḫutipapu in the town of Zizza. One purpose of the mission was to seize the priestesses in the close-by town of Apena(š), another was to issue a royal decree. The whole mission was most delicate as Apena(š) was apparently not under full control of the Arrapḫean king. 25 Thus, it was the military officer Šarteššup who was commissioned with the organization of the mission on a supra-regional level. He had to ensure the safe travels of the vizier and the priestly representative to the town of Zizza, the town where Ḫutipapu (the governor of that region?) would take over. But Šarteššup’s responsibility reached beyond this journey. He had to take care of the vizier’s and the priestly representative’s appearance once they entered the troubled town of Apena(š). The central concern was to establish royal power: (22–23) To the people of Apena they shall issue a decree as follows (kinanna-ma ṭēma ĜARnu): (24–25a)”The people are given under your responsibility!”

23.  Similar expressions are already common in the Rīm-Sîn period (Sallaberger 2012: 13), and later in Neo-Assyrian letters (Radner 2008: 490). 24.  For the decrees see Müller (1968). 25. See Maidman (2008: 91f.; id. 2010: 19) for the role of Zizza and Apena(š) in the AssyrianArrapḫean conflict.

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Table 2. ṭēma šakānu in Decrees and Letters Text and Find spot

Type

Phrase

HSS XV, 1 C 28 (Zike)

Royal decree to the mayor of Tašuḫḫea

[kinanna ana?] ḫazannu ša IRI Tašuḫḫe (2) [LUGAL] ṭēma ištakanšunūti “The king has issued a decree (for?) the mayor of GN as follows:”

HSS XIV, 11 C 28 (Zike)

Royal decree to the decuria

(1)

(1)

kinanna LU2.MEŠ (2)emantuhlē (3)LUGAL ṭēma iškunuši “Thus the decuria. The king has issued a decree.”

JEN 551 Royal decree to Tarmitilla Room 12 (Tarmitilla)

(1) kinanna ana Tarmitilla (2)ṭēma ištaknū “Thus for Tarmitilla, they issued a decree.”

HSS XIV, 10 D6 (Palace store house)

Royal decree to . . . of Antakalb

(1) kinanna x x xc (2)ša IRI Antakal (3)LUGAL ṭēma (4)iškunšunūti “Thus the . . . of GN. The king has issued a decree.”

HSS XIII, 36d n.A.

Royal decree to Akiptašenni, governore

kinanna Akiptašenni ĜAR.KUR DUMU Ennamati (3)LUGAL ṭe-ma ĜARan (= ištakan) “Thus Akiptašenni, the governor, son of Ennamati. The king has issued a decree.”

HSS XIV, 1411 C 19 (Zike)

Royal letter to Šarteššup, decurio (GAL 10)

(23) kinanna ṭēma ĜARnu (= išakkanū?) “They shall issue a decree”

HSS XIV, 19 C 28 (Zike)

Royal letter to Sarteššup (decurio (GAL 10))

(6)

HSS XIV, 21 S 113 (Šeḫalteššup)

Letter by Šeḫramušni to Akiptašenni

(21) LUGAL ṭēma lā iškunmî “Did not the king issue a decree?”

HSS XIV, 29 N 120 (Palace)

Letter by Elḫiptilla to vizir (SUGAL7)

(20)

HSS XIV, 14f C 19 (Zike)

Royal letter to Šarteššup, decurio (GAL 10)

(23) kinanna ṭēma ĜARnu (= išakkanū?) “They shall issue a decree.”

(1)

(2)

ṭēma šukun “Issue a decree!”

u ana LUGAL qibi (21)u ṭēma liškun “Report (this) to the king. He shall issue a decree.”

a.  Mušteya seals this decree. According to Deller (1983) and most recently by Maidman (2010: no. 8) Mušteya was the king. While this is an enticing suggestion, the identity of Mušteya remains unclear. b.  The document is sealed by the scribe Rīm-Sîn. c. Müller (1968: 176) reads NU?!.BANDA3.?!DA?! “lieutnants.” Deller suggests DAM.GAR3, merchant (unpubl. manuscript, kindly made available to me by Stefan Maul). Collation of the tablet confirms Lacheman’s hand copy in HSS XIV. If we do not want to impute two scribal mistakes at the very beginning of a royal decree, we should rather leave the address-line as unintelligible. d.  For this text see discussion above. e.  Sealed by Akiptašenni himself. f.  For this text see discussion above.

In other words: The king transfers full authority to Šarteššup whose guard enabled the vizier and the priestly representative to act under royal authority in a politically instable region. To be more precise, not only did the SUGAL7 and the SANGA appear to be acting under royal authority, but rather in issuing the royal decree

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they were 26 the royal authority. Given the circumstances, the vizier and the priestly representative were not a priori regarded as officials in Apena(š) but had to identify themselves as members of a political body. And it was through the royal decree, the ṭēmu, that the people of Apena(š) would be informed that both persons were not mere individuals but were backed by an institution. Disrespect towards the royal decree would prompt a forceful punishment, respect meant governmental protection. And this protection was personified by Šarteššup, the decurio, into whose “hands” the people were given (ll. 19 and 24–25a), and whose force would be permanently present during the mission. Thus, in times of political distress officials like the SUGAL7 and the SANGA, who would be considered as belonging to the “central” administration were in need of royal authority. This authority was not given directly by the king, but by an intermediary, a military officer. Once again, it is impossible to construct a vertical hierarchy where it is to be decided whether the vizier is superior to a military official or vice versa. Conclusion The phrase ṭēma šakānu seems to have carried a special legal meaning. This is made apparent not only by the royal decrees which use this formula, but also through references in the communication between subordinates of the king. In the case of Šeḫramušni and Akiptašenni we are witnesses of authority that was not based on vertical a hierarchy, but based on the distinction of competence. The same is true for Šarteššup, the vizier, and the priestly representative. The vizier and the priest simply did not have the competence to guarantee security, instead it was a military officer, who had the necessary capacity and resources–an infrastructure that met the needs of a special situation. Thus it was him who served as link between the centre of the government, as presented by the king, and other officials, among whom the vizier also held supra-regional duties. Authority was hence linked to competence and resources, and the network within a royally approved scope gave room for competence that could even transcend a vertical hierarchical order. By referring to the king a person displayed loyalty to the royal power, and at the same time carried its authority. This triggered an automatism. People would remind each other of their duties, or they would serve as protectors of the execution of royal power. In a way, though all within limits, this is quite an effective way of self-regulation within the administrative network. 26.  A comparable situation appears in the royal decree HSS XV, 1 ll. 25–30 where it is the governor who shall issue a decree to the lords of the dimtu-districts (LU2.ĜAR.KUR LU2.MEŠ EN.MEŠ AN.ZA. GAR3.MEŠ . . . kinanna-ma ṭēma išakkanaššunūti); for this text see above in table 2.

References AASOR XVI = Pfeiffer R. H., and Speiser E. A. 1936 One Hundred New Selected Nuzi Texts. The Annual of the American Schools of Oriental Research XVI. New Haven: American Schools of Oriental Research. Cassin, E. 1974 Le palais de Nuzi et la royauté d’Arrapḫa. Pp. 372–392 in Le palais et la royauté (archéologie et civilisation). XIXe Rencontre assyriologique internationale. Edited by P.  Garelli. Paris: Paul Geuthner.

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Chow, W. W.-K. 1973 Kings and Queens of Nuzi. Ph.D. dissertation. Brandeis University. Deller, K. 1983 Gab es einen König von Arrapḫe namens Muš-teja? Assur 3: 154–163 (= Assur 3/4, 18–27). Deller, K., and Fadhil, A. 1972 NIN.DINGIR.RA/ ēntu in Texten aus Nuzi und Kurruḫani. Mesoptamia 7: 193–213. Dosch, G. 1993 Zur Struktur der Gesellschaft des Königreichs Arrapḫe. Heidelberger Studien zum Alten Orient 5. Heidelberg: Heidelberger Orientverlag. 2009 Zur Struktur der Gesellschaft des Königreichs Arrapḫe: Texte über die Streitwagenfahrer (rākib narkabti). Pp. 71–228 in General Studies and Excavations at Nuzi 11/2. In Honor of David I. Owen on the Occasion of his 65th Birthday, October 28, 2005. SCCNH 18. Edited by G. Wilhelm. Bethesda, MD: CDL Press. Frymer-Kensky, T. S. 1977 The Judicial Ordeal in the Ancient Near East. PhD dissertation. Yale University. Giorgeri, M. 2005 Bedeutung und Stellung der “mittanischen” Kultur im Rahmen der Kulturgeschichte Vorderasiens. Pp.  77–101 in Motivation und Mechanismen des Kulturkontaktes in der Späten Bronzezeit. Eothen 13. Edited by D. Prechel. Firenze: LoGisma. HSS 1929ff.  Excavations at Nuzi. Harvard Semitic Series. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Jakob, S. 2003 Mittelassyrische Verwaltung und Sozialstruktur: Untersuchungen. Cuneiform Monographs 29. Leiden; Boston: Brill. JEN Joint Expedition [of the American School of Oriental Research in Bagdad] with the Iraq Museum at Nuzi. vols. 1–6 published by Philadelphia; New Haven: University of Pennsylvania Press; American School of Oriental Research. vol. 7 published in SCCNH 13. Jursa, M. 2010 Der neubabylonische Hof. Pp. 67–106 in Der achämenidische Hof / The Achaemenid Court. Classica et Orientalia 2. Edited by B. Jacobs and R. Rollinger. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Kendall, T. 1975 Warfare and Military Matters in the Nuzi tablets. Ph.D. dissertation. Brandeis University. Koliński, R. 2001 Mesopotamian dimātu of the Second Millennium BC.  BAR International Series 1004. Oxford: Archaeopress. 2002 Tell al-Fakhar: A dimtu-Settlement or the City of Kurruḫani? Pp. 3–39 in General Studies and Excavations at Nuzi 10/3. SCCNH 12. Edited by D.  I. Owen and G.  Wilhelm. Bethesda, MD: CDL Press. Lion, B. 1999 L’andurāru à l’époque médio-babylonienne. Pp. 313–327 in Nuzi at Seventy-Five. SCCNH 10. Edited by D. I. Owen and G. Wilhelm. Bethesda, MD: CDL Press. 2008 L‘armée à Nuzi. Pp.  p.  71–81 in Les armées du Proche-Orient ancien (IIIe-Ier mill. av. J.‑C.). Actes du colloque international organisé à Lyon les 1er et 2 décembre 2006, Maison de l’Orient et de la Méditerranée. BAR International Series 1855. Edited by P. Abrahami and L. Battini. Oxford: John and Erica Hedges Ltd. 2010 Les fortifications de Nuzi d‘après une tablette du Louvre. Pp.  203–216 in Festschrift für Gernot Wilhelm anlässlich seines 65. Geburtstages am 28. Januar 2010. Edited by J. Fincke. Dresden: ISLET. Maidman, M. P. 2010 Nuzi Texts and Their Uses as Historical Evidence. Writings from the Ancient World 18. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature. Maidman, M. P. 2010 Nuzi Texts and Their Uses as Historical Evidence. Writings from the Ancient World 18. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature.

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Mayer, W. 1978 Nuzi-Studien I: Die Archive des Palastes und die Prosopographie der Berufe. Alter Orient und Altes Testament 205/1. Neukirchen-Vluyn: Butzon & Kevelaer. Morrison, M. 1993 The Eastern Archives of Nuzi and Excavations at Nuzi 9/2. SCCNH 4. Edited by D.  I. Owen and G. Wilhelm. Bethesda, MD: CDL Press. Müller, M. 1968 Die Erlässe und Instruktionen aus dem Lande Arrapha. Ein Beitrag zur Rechtsgeschichte des Alten Vorderen Orients. Unpublished Phd dissertation. Leipzig. Negri Scafa, P. 2005 Administrative Procedures in the Texts from the House of Zike, Son of Ar-Tirwi, at Nuzi. Pp. 437–477 in General Studies and Excavations at Nuzi 11/2. In Honor of David I. Owen on the Occasion of his 65th Birthday, October 28, 2005. SCCNH 18. Edited by G. Wilhelm. Bethesda, MD: CDL Press. Postgate, J. N. 2010 The Debris of Government: Reconstructing the Middle Assyrian State Apparatus from Tablets and Potsherds. Pp. 19–38 in In Honour of the Seventieth Birthday of Professor David Hawkins. Iraq 72. Radner, K. 2008 The Delegation of Power: Neo-Assyrian Bureau Seals. Pp. 481–515 in L’archive des fortifications de Persépolis: État des questions et perspectives des recherches: Actes du colloque organisé au Collège de France, 3– 4 novembre 2006. Edited by P. Briant, W. F. M. Henkelman and M. W. Stolper. Paris: De Boccard. RlA 1928ff.  Reallexikon der Assyriologie und Vorderasiatischen Archäologie. Edited by M. P. Streck et al. Berlin; New York: Walter De Gruyter. Sallaberger, W. 2012 Das Ansehen eines altorientalischen Herrschers bei seinen Untertanen. Pp. 1–20 in Organization, Representation, and Symbols of Power in the Ancient Near East. Proceedings of the 54th Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale at Würzburg 20–25 July 2008. Edited by G. Wilhelm. Winona Lake, Ind.: Eisenbrauns SCCNH 1981ff.  Studies on the Civilization and Culture of Nuzi and the Hurrians. Edited by David I. Owen and G. Wilhelm. Bethesda, MD: CDL Press. Shibata, D. 2011 The Toponyms, ‘the Land of Māri’, in the Late Second Millennium B.C. Revue d’assyriologie et d’archéologie orientale 105: 95–108. Stein, D. 1993 Das Archiv des Šilwa-teššup 8 and 9: The Seal Impressions. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. 2009 The Charioteer Lists: Seals and Sealing Practice. Pp.  545–571 in General Studies and Excavations at Nuzi 11/2. In Honor of David I. Owen on the Occasion of his 65th Birthday, October 28, 2005. SCCNH 18. Edited by G. Wilhelm. Besthesda, MD: CDL Press. Wilhelm, G. 1990 Verhafte ihn! Orientalia 59: 308–309. 2006 Briefe aus Nuzi. Pp. 101–105 in Texte aus der Umwelt des Alten Testaments, Neue Folge 3: Briefe. Edited by B. Janowski and G. Wilhelm. Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus. Zaccagnini, C. 1979 Les rapports entre Nuzi et Ḫanigalbat. Assur 2/1: 1–27. 2003 Nuzi. Pp.  546–617 in A History of Ancient Near Eastern Law. Handbook of Oriental studies. Section one, The Near and Middle East =Handbuch der Orientalistik. Erste Abteilung, der Nahe und Mittlere Osten 72. Edited by R. Westbrook. Leiden; Boston: Brill.

Continuity and Discontinuity in a Nuzi Scribal Family Paola Negri Scafa Rome

1. Introduction The small Kingdom of Arrapḫa is known through the texts found at Nuzi (Yorghan Tepe), being the texts coming by Arrapḫa itself (Kirkuk) and Tell al-Faḫḫar remarkably less numerous. So the expression Nuzi texts is employed as a synonymous of texts of the kingdom of Arrapḫa, also in the present paper. The Kingdom of Arrapḫa, a vassal state of the Kingdom of Mittani, had a Hurrian population; it lay to the East of the Tigris and to the South of the Little Zab. That means that it was widely influenced by the near Babylonian world, and traces of influence from Assyria are also detectable. As a consequence of this two-threefold cultural legacy, the linguistic Nuzi system shows peculiarities in grammar, lexicon and syntax, and characteristic clauses also occur in the contracts: in fact, also if the language exhibited by the Nuzi scribes is clearly oriented to a middle Babylonian model, nevertheless elements of Hurrian, old Babylonian, Assyrian in different percentage are observed (Wilhelm 1970; Negri Scafa 1997). Also the writing system of the kingdom of Arrapḫa is very typical, and consists of several characteristic elements like, for example, form of the signs and presence of elements of different origin (old Babylonian and middle Babylonian). All together, these factors form the consistent and well recognizable system which is common knowledge to all Nuzi scholars. This writing system is the result of the activity of many scribes who contribute to it with their labours. A good number of Nuzi scribes is known: at least 260 scribe personal names are recorded on the tablets and certainly more than 260 Nuzi scribes were active, because several homonymous are known. Several scribes are only known by their names (about the 45 %), while other ones (a 55 %) added the patronymic to their own names. Also the fathers often occur in the texts as scribes, and in this way it has be possible to reconstruct some scribal families; the best known is the family of Apil-Sin, that collected more than 60 scribes in five generations. The possibility of reconstructing a genealogy until the fifth generation of this family, together with the family of a famous and reach man, Tehip-tilla, his parents and his offspring, makes the basis of the internal Nuzi chronology. Just because the high number of sons of a scribe of this scribal family of Taia, the question arose whether the term DUMU in NP1 DUMU NP2 DUBSAR indicated a 345

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true son or a pupil. Prosopographical analyses and comparisons on the Nuzi texts demonstrate that DUMU certainly indicated son also in these cases. The possibility of reconstructing scribal genealogies is important not only because of internal chronological purposes, but also because it allows to reconstruct in some measure the process by which the Nuzi writing system developed. It also offers an opportunity to glance through the writing characteristics of the different members of a family in order to attempt an answer to some relevant questions: how scribes learned to write, and how elements and characteristics were handed down or modified from one generation to another. For example, the texts of Apil-Sin are of particular interest for their graphemic characteristics, that changed over the family generations; however, at present it is not possible to take into consideration the family of Apil-Sin because of the number of its members; therefore another scribal family will be taken into consideration here. It is the family which has Lu-nanna as an ascendant (Fig. 1). This genealogical chart is certainly incomplete, because only the scribes belonging to the family have been recorded, and therefore other eventual no scribe children are not there, nor the whole female part of the family is mentioned. However, data are enough to take into consideration aspects concerning the writing system of each scribe and to compare them with equivalent aspects of the other scribes of the family. As this paper is part of a more complex project, only some typical elements of the different scribes will be taken into consideration.

2.  Generation Zero 2.1. Lu-nanna The first member of the family to be considered is Lu-nanna: he can be defined the 0 generation, i.e. the generation the existence of which can be reconstructed because of the patronymics, and not because there are documents that record specific activities in which those individuals are involved. He bears a Sumerian name, and he is not alone in his family: also his grandson Abba bears a Sumerian name, according to the NPN 1 classification of the typology of the names; the other family members bear Hurrian names, except Ila-nîšū, that bears an Akkadian name, and Intiia and Zunzu, whose names are problematic, always according to NPN. Sumerian personal names amount to only 0,5% among the Nuzi personal names, but this proportion dramatically changes when the percentage of the Sumerian names is calculated among the scribal names, because the proportion is 6 % (Negri Scafa 2005). Then, there is a good possibility that a bearer of a Sumerian name is a scribe. For this reason, and because he is father of at least three scribes, it is possible to conclude that also Lu-nanna was a scribe.

3.  First Generation 3.1. Taia Two members of the next generation, the first generation under our point of view, are clearly attested as scribes; more problematic is the third member, Taia. 1.  NPN: I. Gelb – P.M. Purves,–A.A. McRae, Nuzi Personal Names, Chicago 1943.

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He occurs in JEN 412, a very fragmentary text of which only few lines and the list of witnesses remain. No witness in the list is defined DUB.SAR nor bears a scribal name. Only Taia bears a scribal name and belongs to a scribal family: his name is written on the left side of the tablet, followed by some broken signs that could have been the word DUB.SAR. For these reason it is possible to conclude that Taia was a scribe and in particular the author of JEN 412. Prosopographical data help to define the compass of Taia son of Lu-nanna: in JEN 412 Keliia son of Akap-tukke, Piru son of Naiš-kelpe, and Ninu-atal son of Ar-šawuška also are mentioned. Keliia son of Akap-tukke also occurs in a text of Winnirke mother of Tehip-tilla (JEN 82, scribe Utu-mansum S. Inb-adad), while Piru son of Naiš-kelpe, and Ninu-atal son of Ar-šawuška often witness in Teḫip-tilla’s documents. It is known that Teḫip-tilla lived long time and made many legal agreements, that were distributed in a long span of time. Certainly Piru son of Naiš-kelpe, and Ninu-atal son of Ar-šawuška witnessed some of the more ancient documents of Teḫip-tilla. The presence of Keliia son of Akap-tukke, mentioned in a text of the mother of Teḫip-tilla, is a proof of this antiquity. In this framework the scribe Taia son of Lu-nanna appears to be contemporary with Taia and Baltu-kašid sons of Apil-Sin and with Utu-mansum son of Inb-adad, author of JEN 82, one of the most ancient scribe of Nuzi. Therefore the characteristics of JEN 412 can belong to the more ancient phases of the history of the writing system in Nuzi and it could be interesting to take some of them into consideration. The text, that is a sale-adoption or ṭuppi marūti, has a beginning clause, ṭup-pí ma-ru-ti š[a . . .], the use of which is not still generalized in that period; also the clause of the breaking of the contract seems to be well established; in this text it is introduced by mannu: ma-an-nu ša [. . .] / 1 MA.NA KÙ.BABBAR [. . .]. Some interesting characteristics related to the personal names occur in this text: A.  a writing Ni-nu-ma-tal of the PN Ninu-atal; it is a very unusual writing of this name, which occurs to my knowledge only in a text (JEN 834) of the scribe Zike, a contemporary of Taia son of Apil-sin, and in a text of Intiia. B.  a writing ki-il-bi of the element kelbe is a unicum C.  a writing in e-ni (Ak-ku-le-ni) versus a writing in en-ni (Še-en-ni) D.  a writing ar-ša-mu-uš-ga of the name Ar-šawuška

It is difficult to judge the value of these characteristics, because they belong to only one fragmentary text, but they already show interesting elements in the development of the writing system.

3.2. Naniia The brother of Taia, Naniia is well known as a scribe and is author of five the texts (JEN 79, 303, 313, 578, 733): three are sale-adoptions or ṭuppi marūti, one is a titennūtu and one is an adoption. It is possible to establish the background in which Naniia moves: under a chronological point of view, he is also contemporary with Teḫip-tilla, and Taia son of Apil-Sin, because he witnesses JEN 56 and JEN 530, two documents written for the former by the latter. As far as the geographical context in which he moves, he seems to be related with several different towns: both of the texts, in which he is a witness, belong to the geographical area of Zizza, and also a text written by him, JEN 303, seems to be related to the area of Zizza.

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Interesting and complex appears to be the situation of JEN 733, where a town URU ka-ra-an-na ša Puhi-šenni is quoted, to which Maidman (Maidman 1994) relates the fragmentary expression [. . .]-an-na ša Puhi-šenni of another text, JEN 578. The list of witnesses of JEN 733 slightly overlaps the lists of JEN 578 that in its turn slightly overlaps JEN 8. JEN 8 is related to the town of Turša and for this reason Fadhil (Fadhil 1983), in his study on Arraphean Topography, and J. Fincke (Fincke 1993), in her Repertoire geographique, locate the town ka-ra-an-na ša Puhi-šenni in the surroundings of Turša. This is not inconsistent with another text written by Naniia, JEN 79, that is related with Turša. Therefore these documents offer an important demonstration of the mobility of scribes according to the distribution of the real estate of the contracting parties. It is interesting to observe the presence of Turša and its surroundings, in the perspective to identify a Turšaic origin to the family. It is possible to observe the interesting elements in the texts written by Naniia; in JEN733, like in other texts, horizontal lines divide the first twelve lines of the text. These lines, that Purves (Purves 1940) calls guidelines, are characteristic of the older Nuzi texts. Later, when dividing lines are employed, they divide significant sections of the text, like clauses and other significant parts. Moreover, preferred use of writings CV-VC (instead of CVC signs) can be signalled, like ga-ap in the personal name element Akap-; ḫa-ap in the element Utḫap; in the personal name Šukriia a writing šu-uk (JEN 79) alternates with šúk (JEN 303). Of special interest is the writing di-in in iddin. The use of the signs áḫ, éḫ, íḫ, uḫ5 and inconsistencies in the use of figures before MA.NA, in JEN 578, offer further elements on the writing characteristics of this scribe. Under the point of view of the clauses, Naniia uses the beginning clause in ṭuppi marūti and in the ṭuppi titennūti; the penalty clause that always has the following structure: mannu ša BAL-tu4 / KI.BAL-tu4 , with nadānu instead of malû; always in the ṭuppi marūti the clause zittu is occasionally employed. As far as the relationship with Teḫip-tilla, Naniia acts sometimes as witness in Teḫip-tilla’s documents.

3.3. Excursus Repeatedly the standard clauses in the ṭuppi marūti has been quoted; they are very important in and characteristic of the Nuzi texts; therefore at this point it can be useful for the following discussion to sum them up in their most complete form, as they developed in the time: the beginning clause: ṭuppi marūti 1.  the amount of land given as “inheritance” (zittu / ḪA.LA) 2.  the amount of property given as “gift” (qil/štu / NÌ.BA) 3.  settlement of prior claims (rašû) 4.  ilku fulfilment 5.  penalty for breaking the agreement (nabalkutu) 6.  place and time of writing the tablet (šaṭir and šudutu) 7.  witnesses who measure the real estate and give the qiltu (lamû and nadānu)

This structure developed over the time thanks to the scribes of the different generations; in the earlier phases only few clauses were in use, and their format was in some measure different from the ‘classical’ format. As seen above, both Taia and Naniia have employed some of these clauses.

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3.4 Intiia The use of clauses is important also for Intiia, the third brother of this family. Only few text of him are survived, but he is the founder of an important lineage of his family. It is possible to establish his chronology because he is a witness in JEN 232, a document written by Taia son of Apil-Sin for Teḫip-tilla. Actually Intiia worked for a brother of Teḫip-tilla, Ḫaiš-teššup. For the archive of the latter, Intiia writes a recapitulative documents (JEN 253) that collects 5 šupe’ulti concerning Ḫaiš-teššup, who is also concerned in the other text written for him by Intiia (JEN 273). This scribe exhibits many interesting peculiarities: 1.  he uses a form KU7 for the sign UŠ 2.  sign TI for leqû 3.  frequent omission of the sign I before male PNs 4.  writing ni-nu-ma-tal for the personal name Ninu-atal, like his brother Taia 5.  writing of a-me-ḫa-ri for awiḫaru 6.  use the sign LUM (= lu4) in uš-te-pé-i-lu4 7.  scarce and inconsistent use of the title clause of the ṭuppi šupe’ūlti (ṭup-pí A.ŠÀMEŠ šu-pe-LI-ti) 8.  peculiarities in penalty clause; in JEN 273, use of enû + nabalkutu is attested: ša i-en-nu-ú ša BAL / 1 MA.NA KÙ.BABBAR 1 MA.NA SIG17 Ì.LÁ.E; in JEN 253, a recapitulative documents that collects the list of several contracts, in every penalty clause malû is written both SI.A and Ì.LÁ.E.

As far as the relationship with Teḫip-tilla, Intiia, like his brother Naniia, acts sometimes as witness in Teḫip-tilla’s documents. Moreover, as seen above, Intiia writing system presents connection with the system of his brother Taia, and also with that of Apil-Sin, as the use of enû also in EN 9/1 1 demonstrates. Incidentally, it can be remembered that the beginning clauses in the ṭuppi marūti employed by Apil-Sin have characteristics their own.

4.  The Second Generation 4.1.  Sons of Taia? It is difficult to establish if Taia son of Lu-nanna has been in his turn father of other scribes. The question is very complex because another more known and active scribe Taia exists: he is Taia son of Apil-Sin, who is in turn indicated as father of at least eleven sons; it is possible to wonder if any of those ‘son of Taia’ are offspring of the scribe Taia son of Lu-nanna, and not of Taia son of Apil-Sin.

4.2.  Akiia, Son of Naniia A son of Naniia, Akiia is the author of a text RA 23 10 that does not belong to the archive of a member of the Teḫip-tilla’s family. This means that Akiia worked out (or also out) of that family. The fragmentary text belongs to the archive of Našwe, who is adopted by four men. The beginning of the text is lost, therefore it is not possible to know whether there was a beginning clause. From the context it is possible to understand that the whole transaction was complex, and surely required more than one document: RA 23 10 was the finale document of the set and offered the solution of several problems. Therefore this complexity requires that clauses are in some measure adapted to the situation.

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It is difficult to evaluate the activity of a scribe from only one text, also if in the present analysis it already happened. Akiia works in a situation in which the Nuzi formulaic system seems well established, and therefore it is not odd that he employs clauses in his texts. Following are the clauses employed: 1.  settlement of prior claims (rašû), written in syllabic way 2.  clause of ilku fulfilment 3.  clause nabalkutu: KI.BAL-tu4 + SI.A-la 4.  witnesses who measure the real estate and give the qiltu (lamû and nadānu) 5.  preference for a writing CV-VC (Še-er-ši-ia, Mi-il-ku-ia) 6.  syllabic writing in clauses lamû (mu-še-el-mu-ú) and nadānu

These characteristics are in part consistent with the characteristics of other members of the family, and in particular of the former generation, also if some of these characteristics are common with contemporary scribes external to the Lu-nanna family, and in particular with the Apil-Sin family. The fact that the most of the texts were written for the Teḫip-tilla family made easier the exchange of information and suggestions between the two groups of scribes.

4.3.  The sons of Intiia While only one son is attributable to Naniia, three scribes are sons of Intiia: Ilanîšū, Appa, and Zunzu. 4.3.1. Ila-nîšū Ila-nîšū also writes for the great Teḫip-tilla’s family: in particular he worked for Teḫip-tilla himself (perhaps when Teḫip-tilla was old), for whom he wrote two ṭuppi marūti related to the town of Ulamme, JEN 86 e 411. He wrote also for Enna-mati, the oldest son of Teḫip-tilla, a document in the town of Turša. In these texts the following clauses appear in use: 1.  ṭuppi marūti, where the tense of verb is always a preterite 2.  “inheritance” clause, where zittu is written always ḪA.LA, and the “gift” always written qí-il-ti 3.  clause rašû where the tense of the verb is always a perfect 4.  use of malû in the nabalkutu clause 5.  the curious use of IGI written after the record of the seals (NA4.KIŠIB PN IGI)

As far as graphemic characteristics it can be observed that a writing ú-za-ak[kà/ka4-ma] alternates with a writing ú-za-kà-ma, like a writing ma-nu-mé alternates with a writing ma-nu-um-mé. Peculiarities present in Ila-nîšū texts are similar to those elements occurring in other texts of the Lu-nanna family scribes, also if elements employed by scribes external to those family occur. Ila-nîšū is the last member of the family who writes for Teḫip-tilla; the other two brothers of Ila-nîšū, Appa and Zunzu, already work for the successive generation of Teḫip-tilla’s family. 4.3.2. Appa The compass of Appa is wide enough, because he writes in several different towns: two tablets related to a trial concerning Enna-mati (JEN 390, 653) in

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Unapšewe; then he writes a loan document (LNT 68) for Zike son Šurki-tilla, a nephew of Enna-mati. Moreover Appa worked in Nuzi, for Puḫi-šenni son of Mušapu (EN 9/2 419, 9/3 501), for whom he recorded a trial (419) and a declaration (501). At first glance some peculiarities can be put in evidence: 1.  alternance in writing ki-me /ki-me-e, iq-ta-bu / iq-ta-bu-ú 2.  writing Nu-šá-pu of the personal name Muš-apu 3.  a possibly unusual structure of the very fragmentary loan document (LNT 68) 4.  According to G. Müller (Müller 1998) not only he worked in several towns, like Unapšewe and Nuzi, but he could have been also involved in administrative activities, like delivering goods to several men (LNT 16).

4.3.3. Zunzu The third son of Intiia, Zunzu is the most known member of the family: of him more than 20 texts are known. Therefore it is impossible to analyze the whole documentation in detail, also if some elements can be put in light. Zunzu writes many kinds of documents: ṭuppi marūti, ṭuppi šupe’ulti, declarations, many trials, some buying of things (635) and acquiring people by titennūtu, and so on; in the redaction of contracts he generally employs the standard Nuzi clauses developed during the time, also if he decides to use them freely, locating them in unusual position, or adding further elements, like an additional clause to the clause rašû (JEN 415) where nadānu is employed; in the nabalkutu clause the use of malû is well established and Zunzu follows the uses of his brothers. He also uses many variants; some examples are: ištu (JEN 559, 390) vs uštu (432); kima HA.LA-šu / kimu NÌ.BA-šu vs kima HA.LA-šu / kima NÌ.BA-šu (JEN 415); ki-ma /ki-i-ma, ma-an-nu-ú i+na be-ri-šu-nu / ma-an-nu-um-me-e i+na be-ri-šu-nu. Moreover in a text (JEN 297) he uses the form illikūni , an Assyrian subjunctive; in this he can be considered one of the ‘Assyrian’ Nuzi scribes (Negri Scafa 1997). Zunzu mainly worked for several members of the Teḫip-tilla’s family in Turša: in particular for Enna-mati and his son Takku. Because his activity in Turša, Fadhil (Fadhil 1983) considers him a local scribe of a Turšaic scribal family. However he worked also elsewhere, like Nuzi Unapšewe , Zizza, also if the activity in Turša seems to be preminent.

5.  The Last Generation 5.1. Ḫuziri The last generation is represented by only one scribe. He is Ḫuziri son of Zunzu, known from a little group of texts. Like the members of his family, Ḫuziri son of Zunzu, writes for the family of Teḫip-tilla, or better for his descendents: a possibly young Ḫuziri writes a ṭuppi titennūti for an old(?) Uzna, who defines herself not as the wife of Enna-mati, but as the daughter of Ḫašiia (HSS XIII 418). In this text a young woman enter the house of Uzna in exchange for some sheep. Again sheep are argument of a declaration connected with a former loan (JEN 128). Also the other text written by Ḫuziri is grounded on a former document: it is a trial (JEN 668) where Tieš-urḫe wants to safeguard the acquisitions of his ascendant Teḫip-tilla. Ḫuziri certainly worked in Turša, and in Unapšewe. With Tieš-urḫe the history of Nuzi ends: it is natural that the Lu-nanna family also ends.

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Ḫuziri prefers syllabic writings to the logographic ones, writings like i-ip-pu-šu, that seems to be groundless, unlike writings like uš-te-la-a, ik-ta-lu-ú, iq-ta-bu-ú.

Conclusions At a first glance it is evident how important has been this scribal family: its members certainly contributed to the development of the Nuzi writing system. The key figure was Intiia whose characteristics must be compared with characteristics of Apil-Sin and the other early Nuzi scribes. All of them took part to the phase in which the typical Nuzi formulaic structure of the contracts was developing; only two examples: in Intiia and Ṭâb-milk-abi the beginning clause is lacking; Apil-Sin and Intiia employ nadānu in the penalty clause, while Ṭab-milk-abi and Amurru-šar-ilī use malû, always written Ì.LÁ.E. Traces of these peculiarities are still noticeable in the documents of Intiia descendants. The comparison of the characteristics of a generation with the characteristics of the next generation seems to suggest that the fathers were not the teachers of their sons. Only a last remark: is it possible to consider this family like a local family of Turša? Certainly most of the activities of its members were situated in Turša, but their compass included several other towns; therefore their massive presence in Turša could have been connected with the activities of the Teḫip-tilla family for which the scribes of this scribal family have for a so long time worked.

References Fadhil, A. 1983 Studien zur Topographie und Prosopographie der Provinzstädte des Königreiches Arrapḫe: Fünfzig ausgewählte URU-Toponyme. Baghdader Forschung 6. Berlin: Gebr. Mann Verlag. Fincke, J. 1993 Die Orts- und Gewässernamen der Nuzi-Texte. RGTC 10. Wiesbaden: Dr. Ludwig Reichert. Maidman, M. P. 1994 Two Hundred Nuzi Texts from the Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago, Part I. SCCNH 6. Bethesda: CDL Press. Müller, G. G. W. 1998 Londoner Nuzi Texte. SANTAG 4. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag.

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Negri Scafa, P. 1997 Die “assyrische” Schreiber des Königtums Arrapḫe. Pp. 123–132 in Assyrien im Wandel der Zeiten. XXXIX Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale. Edited by H. Waetzoldt, H. Hauptmann. Heidelberg: Heidelberger Orientverlag. 2005 Ethnical and cultural aspects related to personal names: the names of the scribes in the Kingdom of Arrapḫa. Pp. 242–251in Ethnicity in Ancient Mesopotamia: Papers Read at the 48th Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale. Edited by W. H. van Soldt. Leuveen: Nederlands Instituut voor Het Nabije Oosten. Purves, P. M. 1940 The Early Scribes of Nuzi. AJSL 57: 162–187. Wilhelm, G. 1970 Untersuchungen zum Ḫurro-Akkadischen von Nuzi. AOAT 9. Berlin: Neukirchen-Vluyn Neukirchener Verlag, Kevelaer Butzon & Bercker.

Mission at Arrapḫa Dave Deuel New York

Introduction When Nabonidus claims to be “a swift messenger of the gods who completes every mission,” 1 he underscores the importance of administrative agency and mission. The frequent use of the mission motif in literary texts supports this notion. For example, before Sargon rises to power, he undertakes a mission. In Enuma Elish, the council commissions Marduk to go before Tiamat. The Poor Man of Nippur uses mission as a ruse to retaliate against a disinterested mayor. This study focuses on administrative mission and considers its relationship to letters as the primary form of written administrative correspondence at Arrapḫa. Individual topics include mission terminology, definition, framework, purpose, and systems, followed by letter tablets and commands as they contribute to mission. These subjects demonstrate collectively that the administrative correspondence system of letters found at fourteenth century b.c. provincial Arrapḫa should be reconstructed most naturally within a mission framework.

Mission as Administration Mission Terminology Arrapḫan officials use mission, particularly the practice of sending letters, to conduct areas of administrative responsibility. Mission entails administration through agency. Although the mission concept is often only implicit in the texts, Arrapḫan officials use several mission related terms and expressions in their documents: mār šipri ‘agent’; 2 pūḫu ‘mission substitute or replacement’; qātu ‘mission authorization’; 3 šapāru ‘to send on a mission’; šipra epēšu ‘to conduct a mission’; 4 1.  našpari ḫanṭu. . . mušallim kal šipri (VAB 4 252: 6.8). 2.  Because the mār šipri was active in many message-less missions, the translation “messenger” is misleading, for its message orientation diminishes the task-orientation of missions, but even more critically, it inaccurately prioritizes the message when one is used. 3.  The focus in my use of the term power is on empowerment as transferred from one individual, a regent or dispatch, to another individual, an agent, in the form of authorization for a mission. 4.  In EA 19, the clause ša šipra lā epšu is uncertain. Several possibilities include “(gold) that has not been worked”(Moran 1992: 46 n. 12). Others have rendered the expression “(gold) that cannot be counted” (Zaccagnini 1973: 85). Moran says, “Note, too, at Mari, metals are given ana šiprim ‘for working’ ” (Limet, Mari 4: 512, cited in Moran 1992: 46 n. 12).

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šipru ‘mission or commissioned work’; 5 ṭēmu ‘mission order or commission’; 6 and ṭuppu ‘tablet as correspondence or message facilitating mission’. 7 These and other related terms cluster in the texts as a semantic field for the topic of agency and mission. 8

Definition of Mission With or without correspondence, 9 written or oral, 10 administrative mission is the practice of sending an authorized agent, often a titled official, 11 to perform an administrative act, 12 or to engage a process. The mission may be as simple as retrieving stolen lumber 13 or as complex and strategic as maintaining peace between rival entities through ongoing treaty missions. 14 The primary administrative mission roles—regent, dispatcher, and agent— correlate roughly with the more common functional letter roles of sender, messenger, and recipient. Mission may require letters or other administrative correspondence. Missions that require letters use them either as commands or reports. Missions that require no written messages differ from those that do in one primary point: the role of the agent. We can describe these as primary, secondary, or tertiary agents, for letter recipients often become agents, as illustrated.

5. Commonly translated with a mission/commissioned labor focus “Sendung, Botshaft: Arbeit, Werk” (von Soden, ‘šiprum’ AHw: 616). 6.  Described as the kind of work that needed to be done. (For example, ilku labor with donkeys [see HSS 5 105]). For a discussion of the nature of ilku and its functions, see Maidman 2010: 163–227. 7. Other message types supporting mission include andurāru, bussurtu, kirenzi, qibītu, šipru, šūdūtu, šunku, šuṭir, and ṭēmu. 8.  There is a close semantic relationship between the Akkadian word group šipru ‘mission,’ mār šipri ‘agent,’ and šapāru ‘to send on a mission’ and a broader circle of terms that include mission properties: power (qātu), relationship, sphere, office, or jurisdiction (bītu), and substitute (pūḫu). 9.  In her study of non-slave labor, Gudrun Dosch finds a category of public works under which she includes types of labor commissioned by a mayor (ḫazannu) that is oriented toward missions. Some require messages; others do not (Dosch 1987: 232). An example is the guards who were stationed in gates, granaries, and storehouses and who “were sent with important missions cross-country.” Ibid. They were commissioned to go and function in strategic locations where releases of commodities and people were conducted. 10.  The perceived dichotomy between written and oral breaks down into a continuum of communication at provincial Arrapḫa. Michalowski says, “These questions often are phrased in terms of a dichotomy between ‘written’ and ‘oral’, but the issue does not only concern specific types of discourse; it is linked with the control and use of literacy. Letters, like administrative documents, were often dictated rather than physically ‘written’ by their authors. Hence, they were filtered through various epistolary conventions, as the small space of the cuneiform tablet required that a long message be reduced to a minimal text. Even those who could write probably used scribes for much of the everyday administrative work. These scribes were authorized to stand in as “authors.”in the place of persons whom they represented” (Michalowski 1993: 3). 11.  Titles are not always given. The address formula is driven by complex dynmics of reference. 12.  For example, in the Egyptian text The Report of Wen-Amun, an envoy led by Wen-Amun conducts a mission to Lebanon to procure cedar for the sacred barque of Amun Re. The act could be viewed as a single event, one step in a process, or the entire process as a whole. 13. In a court case, a defendant pleads innocence to the accusation that he stole an axe on the grounds that the plaintiff sent him with the ax to cut down a tree (HSS 5 47: 14–15). See Cross 1937: 59. 14.  Arrapḫa both sent and received diplomatic ambassadors; and who or what records these interactions. A ration list records, “2 ewes to the ambassadors of the country of Aššur, 1 kid, 4 ewes for silver to the priestess of the town of Abena were given” (HSS 14: 426).

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Mission as a Framework Arguments from the texts support mission as primary organizational principle: 1) the meaning of the term šipru (mission); 15 2) the strategic use of the term šipru in accomplishing administrative work; 16 3) discourse particles which reflect complex agent preparation and participation; 17 4) primary verbs used to accomplish mission; 18 5) text genres embedded in the letters designed to facilitate missions; 19 6) sequences of letters and other genres forming complex missions; 20 7) the functional mission nature of the documents; 8) the mission competence required to perform complex missions; 9) the nature of the letter genre that facilitates mission; 21 10) and the 15. In many contexts, šipru means mission in the sense of dispatched work in the AC texts at Arrapḫa. In spite of the fact that šipru was translated “messenger” in OA and OAss, von Soden renders šipru in its first gloss as “Sendung, Werk” (GAG, 55C), focusing on the broader activity of mission or work accomplished by commission. . . The first gloss in the Chicago Assyrian Dictionary is “mission” (CAD Š/3: 73). A second and related argument is the pirs form of šipru. The most likely understanding of the pirs here is passive participle functioning as an abstract noun (Meier 1988: 12). I understand the abstract as an action or event. This also looks away from šipru as message or messenger and focuses on the activity of mission. 16.  Arrapḫa demonstrates consistency in the use of šipru to describe mission or commissioned service, a sampling of which is found in the following texts: HSS 5 40:15; 5 105:17; 9 4:16; 9 13:17; 15 219:13; 16 231:13; JEN 387:12; 293:11; 607:12; 308:16. See CAD Š/3: 80, 81. For example, goat hair given to two persons so that they may perform textile work (formulaic šipra epēšu) and deliver the finished products (HSS 15 219:13). The same expression is used in “I had constantly in mind and endeavored to accomplish this task (šipra epēšu) according to the will of the gods” (OIP 2 95: 70 cited in CAD Š/3: 80). This study argues that this expression in some contexts should be rendered, “to conduct a mission.” 17.  Particles translated “now” (anuma and inanna) signaling discourse types in sections of a letter point to the broader issue of mission in the texts. There is a need for previous history as well as complex logical relationships to complete the mission. 18.  The use of the primary verb in letters is also an argument for mission. Commands follow patterns of logic from the standpoint of what can be can be accomplished in mission. The small set of commands and their systemic relationships reflect the cohesion of the mission system. 19.  Embedded letters typically represent a process rather than an event, for the letter is a carrier document for some other oral or written text. 20.  AC sequences, as we find with the case of kidnapping, reveal detailed processes requiring extensive protocol activity of mission. Decrees, letters, memoranda, and other texts combine to form potentially long and detailed procedures with multiple dispatches in order to accomplish administrative objectives. 21.  The best example of letter reference uses Sumerian KIN rather than Akkadian šipru, which may well be a reference to the tablet: An official asks, “Why do you ignore my messages.”(ammīni KIN. MEŠ-ia taḫrumma. [HSS 9 4]).

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expression “mission orders” (šipri ṭēmi) in the letters. 22 It is strategic for the mission system that the act of sending (šapāru) may take a document or a person as its object, 23 but less commonly items. 24 As the primary organizational principle in the texts, administrative mission offers an interpretive framework for this study. 25 Mission serves this role for several reasons: 1) Mission provides a framework large enough to include the component parts of the entire system. 2) Mission terminology and concept appear throughout the documents and are implicit in its functions. 3) The term mission best describes the system’s objective of meeting practical administrative needs. 4) The notion of mission includes a plan to accomplish goals, that is, each mission has in view an intended outcome, stated or implicit. 5) Mission unites texts, written and oral with tasks in natural systemic relationships. 6) Mission includes the administrative context or sphere essential to understanding the texts. 26 7) Mission best captures the complex and critical social and institutional dimensions of the texts, titles, and administrative needs as they relate to title roles, jurisdictions, and institutions at Arrapḫa. 27 8) Mission point of radiation for both outgoing and incoming administrative correspondence to and from Arrapḫa 28 and sometimes Nuzi is seen in this larger sphere. 29 In short, mission is a tool administrators use to accomplish work among Arrapḫa’s principalities, one that was flexible enough to adapt to the situational complexity and duration of administrative objectives and respond to administrative needs. 30

22.  In fact, a text that uses šipru as a noun refers to the ‘work’ or ‘mission’ that people perform in relation to the order ṭemu ‘mission order’ or ‘commission’: “Iri-tilla son of Galiya, Puruša and these men with their mission order did not go down. And with their wagons bring them before me. If you do not bring them, then to the king I will send” (HSS 5 105:4–12). 23.  At Byblos, the introductory letter formula includes šapāru as the verb for sending a letter: e.g., PN1 šapāru ana PN2. See Gianto 1990: 14. 24.  Specifically, “only in rare cases does šapāru refer to sending or transporting goods and objects, for which ‘bring’ wabālu (š) is more commonly used; both verbs often occur side by side” (CAD Š/1: 448). Attestations of the verb šapāru in letters include JEN 494:6; JEN 497:9; EN 9/2 129:18; HSS 5 105:12; HSS 9 1:9; 9 4:6; 9 6:14; 9 8:2–3; 9 12:3–4; HSS 13 36:4, 14, 20; HSS 14 14:7, 9,17; 14 20; TF 1–654:5; TF 1–548:11. Attested uses in other text genres include JEN 554:19; JEN 667:28; HSS 13 241:5; HSS 9 6:14; 9 4:6; 9 8:3; 9 12:18; IM 70940; RA 23 148 No. 28:30; Genava 15 13 No. 5:9 and 16. 25.  Data for the study of Arrapḫa mission is limited to the last generation, for letters are short-term texts destroyed when the mission was completed. Many letters come from Arrapḫa’s final days that end with destruction. In the case of destruction, most of the surviving texts are administrative notes and messages, texts crucial to a people’s general economic decline (Millard 2005: 312). 26. Although rigid distinctions must be avoided, spheres include commercial, military, religious, judicial, and political. 27.  These include the dynamics of instrumentation (impersonal), agency (personal), empowerment, and substitution. 28.  Regarding the palace Paola Negri Scafa says, “The presence of a mār šipri and ḫazannu, the first traditionally tied to activities of the transfer and movement of goods. . . and the second also responsible for the administration of another city. . . confirms the function of the palace as the source of provisions for the entire region.”(Negri Scafa 1995: 60). 29.  Although Nuzi is the texts’ geographical point of radiation due to the fact that most of letters were found at Nuzi, Arrapḫa is the administrative mission hub. This is reflected in the letters found at Nuzi. For example, the letters from archive A34, 2 all treat matters pertaining to Arrapḫa. 30.  Over fifty sites are named in the correspondence, some within the immediate vicinity, others outside. Also, over fifty settlements in the region of Arrapḫa were walled (Negri Scafa 1998: 141).

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Purposes of Mission The broad scope of administrative activity described in the letters demonstrates that mission served many and complex purposes. For example, agents conduct missions at various stages of production and distribution. They deliver raw materials to skilled laborers and artisans, then pick up and deliver the finished products. These include 1) grain 31 and prepared food, 32 2) reeds 33 and finished arrows, 34 3) wool 35 and woven textiles, 4) chariot parts 36 and chariot repair and requisition, 37 including horse requisition, 38 and 5) irrigation 39 and watered fields. 40 Less frequent raw materials and items include salt 41 and oil, 42 an aromatic substance, 43 sesame, 44 and birds. 45 Arrapḫa missions involve over thirty different materials, commodities, and products. Even simple exchanges may require authorized documentation in order for the transaction to take place. 46 For example, some letters inquire as to why production has not occurred; others question why a certain person is not present in court or an animal or product was not released from storehouses or delivered. 47 Messengers and their missions covered many phases of production, exchange, and distribution. The largest and most detailed mission category pertains to procedures involving people. 48 The mission system at Arrapḫa authorizes agents to move people under their supervision to facilitate a wide variety of activities reaching into all areas of Arrapḫan society. 49 In the legal sphere, examples include bringing individuals to 31.  For people and livestock (HSS 9 5; 13 405; 14 578; 16 439). 32.  HSS 9 3, 4. “The Government house supplied rations both to cultic personnel and to the gods (that is, sacrifices)” (Maidman 1995: 940). 33.  HSS 14 28. Another text treats the need for quiver parts (HSS 14 28). 34.  HSS 13 99, 100, 103, 116, 206, and 223. Paola Negri Scafa argues that the way letters fit into the process could best be demonstrated by a comparison with the types of texts used in different phases of the entire mission: “Analyzing the texts under the profile of activities described in them it is possible to observe how in some way the various types of text correspond to different phases in the whole process that begins with the Palace distributing the materials necessary for the construction of arms and continues with the distribution of completed items to those who may be described as the ‘ultimate consumers’ (Negri Scafa 1995: 56). 35.  HSS 9 3, 4; 15 189, 222. 36.  BM 85557 (unpublished letter). 37. JEN 494. 38.  HSS 14 14, 15, 32. 39.  HSS 14 22, 33; EN 9/1 133. 40.  HSS 14 31. 41.  HSS 15 255. 42.  HSS 14 525; 15 258. 43.  riqatu in SMN 1729 (unpublished letter). 44.  EN 9/1 115. 45.  JEN 496. 46.  The simple message of one letter gave the agent authorization to exchange: “To Tarmiya speak. Thus (says) Ikkiya: Quickly give 1 homer of barley for oxen (for the cloak) belonging to PN to Urḫiya” (HSS 16 446). 47.  As seen in a letter: “To Ḫišm-apu, son of Ḫutip-apu speak! Thus (says) Teḫip-tilla: Where is the new horse that I entrusted (paqādu) to you (and) that I spoke of? Give it to Itḫ-apu son of Qaigeniḫe, and do not hold back” (LNT 66). 48.  Over 50% of the letters at Nuzi and at Kurruḫanni. Letters engaged people in various forms of activity, encouraging them in some, preventing them in others. 49.  For example, one letter states, “To Šeḫra-mušni thus (says) Puḫi-šeni: Release the young girl, the daughter of Tarmi-tilla. Give her to Eḫli-tešup, my brother and let him bring (her to me)” (LNT 13).

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court, 50 escorting them to court-related procedures such as the river ordeal, 51 even surveying fields. 52 The broad spectrum of missions includes performing civic duty (ilku), 53 exchanging silver in mercantile activity, 54 as well as conducting religious functions and rituals, 55 even apprehending kidnappers, 56 all of which illustrate the diverse and common use of missions. Other uses of mission combining people, materials, and services include sending a substitute for oneself to court; 57 collecting testimonies from witnesses in remote areas to be used in court; 58 sending agents on a mission to care for the god Tešup in Arrapḫa; 59 conducting a mission for a religious ceremony in a nearby settlement; 60 doing merchant activity while performing diplomatic activity; 61 mustering troops for military engagement; 62 sending agents to other sites to announce the king’s messages; 63 even performing corruption activity through administrative missions. 64 Mission allowed administrators to fulfill their areas of responsibility from afar.

Mission Systems The Arrapḫan administration engages a complex set of systemic mission relationships. Some are hidden from our view, for the officials and their texts assume an acquaintance with the various systems of mission. But two visible in the texts pertain to weapons production, distribution, and repair. At least three phases of distribution required agents and missions: distribution of materials relative to the manufacture of weapons; requisition of completed weapons; and restoration of weapons and armor that had deteriorated which required collecting and redistributing. 65 Agents conducted these missions through a two-pronged system that had an internal as well as an external procedure. 66 Of critical importance were scribes who served in sukkallu (vizier) administrative and agent dispatch roles. The dispatcher of the primary system was šākin bīti (a superintendent of envoys), “responsible for the movement of goods in and out of the palace.” 67 He sent out artisans in charge of production in leather (aškāpu) and metal (nappāḫu), producers of bows and arrows (sasinnu), and producers of bows “Release” and “send” are common collocations of verbs in the system. It is likely that Eḫli-tešup is the messenger (mār šipri) carrying this letter. Although it is possible that Eḫli-tešup was already present with Šeḫra-mušni and the girl. 50.  Or 22 357; JEN 497; HSS 5 102, 103; 14 24; EN 9/2 102. 51.  JEN 498. 52.  HSS 9 1. The letter comes from the Hurrian king, Sauštatar, and is part of a mission pertaining to a grant of land ensuring it is properly surveyed and the boundaries observed. 53.  HSS 5 105. 54.  HSS 14 26. 55.  HSS 5 104; 14 21. 56.  HSS 14 20, 21, 30. 57.  HSS 9 8:3. 58.  JEN 325. 59.  HSS 5 104. 60.  EN 9/2 129. 61.  HSS 14 91. 62.  HSS 15 44. 63.  HSS 14 14. 64.  PS 7:7–12. 65.  Ibid., 59. 66.  Chart based on Negri Scafa 1995: 53–69. 67. Ibid.

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(geltuḫlu) to regions with no attachés. The mār šipri (agent) performed the primary delivery functions. 68 In fact, he controlled the transfer and movement of goods and properties. 69 Another agent (lāsimu) and the mayor (ḫazannu) also dispatched raw materials. The šākin bīti (a superintendent of envoys) counterpart in the external procedure was the šākin māti (also superintendent of envoys) who dispatched directives through agents, the mār šipri as well as the lāsimu. 70 68.  Gudrun Dosch draws implications for this procedure: “Several texts [E.g., HSS 13 103] record disbursement of thousands of reeds by the palace governor to a messenger, who had to take them to an artisan, who was to make them into arrows and return them. Since a messenger is involved, it is obvious that these arrows were not made in the palace itself ” (Dosch 1987: 232). No doubt, agents of official status were also responsible for delivering the finished weapons. 69.  In fact, “transport to the outside was primarily under the control of a mār šipri ” (Negri Scafa 1995: 68). The author adds, “It is evident that mār šipri are always attached to the control of transferring property and goods” (1995: 64). 70.  The author says, “The documentation relative to the arms sector allows us to reconstruct for the Palace primarily a passive role as storehouse for withdrawals and not so much an active role as an

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This portrait of internal and external administrative missions demonstrates that the palace played a supervisory but relatively passive role in arms production, distribution, and repair, and that the dispatchers and scribally trained agents (mār šipri) performed the primary roles. 71

Letter Use in Mission Letters, Tablets, and Mission The tablet (ṭuppu) often served a critical role in mission. Some letters allude to tablets on which they are written, 72 occasionally containing instructions for entire missions. 73 Other tablets require seal confirmation for valid use in identifying agents conducting missions. 74 Commercial missions requiring money transfers utilize tablet identification. 75 Some tablets were sent to perform broader mission functions with other tablets, 76 particularly in judicial missions requiring extensive documentation. 77 Detailed orders from officials to those whose jurisdictions they supervised demonstrate that they are one part, sometimes a small part, of detailed and lengthy judicial procedures. 78 For example, one letter records a long-distance mission to locate witnesses, to solicit testimonies from them, and to bring back the testimonies to court, where they were read as witness proxies. 79 In the religious sphere, tablets were used in ritual missions described in the letter. 80

autonomous central office for distribution. Foremost in this process is the figure of the šākin bīti who assures the operation of the storehouse and controls its various activities. A series of other officials come to him in their intermediate capacity, both those attached to production and those concerned with the successive movement of the goods. The latter is the role displayed primarily by the mār šipri and it is in this role that we find the names of the scribes” (ibid.: 68–69). 71. Ibid. 72.  Veenhof says, “Letters are usually called ‘tablets’ (ṭuppū), a term used for all kinds of written documents” (Veenhof 2003: 88). The term “tablet” is used for letter but seems to refer to the document, that is, the physical object and not the genre letter, although both may be possible. 73.  The exception is several letters which give the procedure for delivery by messengers (HSS 14 14) and heralds (HSS 9 6; 5 104) in great detail. 74.  One of the best examples of identification usage of tablets and seals is HSS 14 21. “But as for you, anyone of Nuzi who comes to the land of the Lulluites and who fails to produce their identification (tablet and seal), seize them and bring them before me” (HSS 14 21: 13–20). But this could apply to mission authorization as well, for it is a fine line between identification and authorization. 75.  I illustrate this sequence of points by Arrapḫa letters in subsequent notes: “Concerning Akiya the merchant of the queen, the king has asked, Pay to the man who has the tablet (  ṭuppu). Let him bring here (the tablet), and the money of the palace will be his dues. You shall not hold back the payment” (HSS 14 26). 76.  For example: “I will bring these tablets to Zil-tešup” (EN 9/1 114:12–14). 77.  Legal procedures often required extensive documentation: “But Qištiya spoke thus to us: I have taken the oath of the king for my lawsuit. May the sukkallu bring this tablet to the king. . . Twelve seals. A tablet of memorandum. Signature of Kel-tešup the scribe” (EN 9/1 117:9–28). This tablet is probably referring to the court document mentioned in the letter, not this letter or another, per se. 78.  This reference to tablets may apply to letters: “The governor of the district shall send tablets to each of the dimtu-officials, to give them the following orders” (HSS 15 1:25–28). 79.  JEN 325. 80.  For example, “Let the dedicatory tablets be offered” (EN 9/2 129:9–10). The term artamaššu perhaps meaning “dedication” is uncertain (CAD A/2: 310. 56). The word is also found in HSS 13 31:9; HSS 15 56:10.

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Although most of the evidence for administrative missions at Arrapḫa is found in letters, the letter is often only a small part of the mission. 81 What is more, written correspondence is not essential to a mission. 82 For example, when a titled messenger (mār šipri), Ḫut-tešup, 83 conducts a diplomatic mission, no letter is mentioned. This may illustrate the role of the diplomat in maintaining relations at least partially through oral communication. In short, the messenger (mār šipri) was not exclusively a letter carrier at Arrapḫa. 84

Letter Commands and Mission Šapāru (‘send’) and Šipru (‘mission’) with Letter Commands The terms for a complete mission (šipru), inceptive commissioning action (šapāru), and personal agency (mār šipri) appear in Arrapḫa letters. 85 Arrapḫa texts reveal how participants viewed the dispatch process, for they use šapāru and šipru to describe the activity of Arrapḫa missions. But this activity is most clearly seen in the primary verbs of letters. These often include the mission’s anticipated result or outcome. 86 Primary Verbs as the Thrust of Mission The mission theme appears not only in the terminology of the šapāru word group but also in the primary verbs used in letter commands. 87 Although letters may contain many verbs, the command or command cluster, typically positioned near the letter’s end, is the focus. We arrive at a more precise understanding of mission at Arrapḫa by looking at these letter commands.  88 What is more, focusing on the primary verbal action in each of the letters offers a more accurate picture of the individual missions. 89 The need met by fulfilling the command with its details 81.  Although most of the letters were found in archives at Nuzi and Kurruhanni, I use the designation Arrapḫa letters, for the missives come from many different sites within the kingdom of Arrapḫa, some even beyond. These ālū are settlements of varying sizes (Millard 2004: 159). 82.  Greene disagrees: “The message is essentially the main errand of the messenger” (Greene 1989: xvii). Green’s statement is inconsistent with the Arrapḫa data. 83.  HSS 14 91. 84.  In some cases, this common assumption is rooted in the notion that šipru in the title mār šipri means “letter” when, in fact, it may be its more common collocate, “work” or “commission” (CAD Š/1: 73). 85.  Also in other genres which describe lettes. A memorandum mentions horses. “Thus said Wir­ rahhe: The king has sent me (a letter), and he took a pair of horses from Nuzi. Seal of Wirrahhe” (HSS 14 23) seen also in the statement, “As for you, send (a letter) to Hutipapu in the town of Zizza” (HSS 14 14:6). 86.  Šipru entails a kind of movement culminating in a complete mission. When we translate šipru ‘work,’ we may limit the focus to the complementary action and ignore the movement (the mission) that must first occur. 87.  The primary verb almost always occurs without the term to send (šapāru). Sending is implicit in the letter formula, “To PN from PN; Speak.” As an example, one letter ordered a mayor (ḫazannu) to send people on a mission from Nuzi to Arrapḫa to work wool that had just arrived. Although the notion of sending is present, the verb send (šapāru) is not used. On many occasions, guards were sent on missions and were authorized to protect people, goods, or territories, but no written message was required (Dosch 1987: 232). See for example, JEN 358, 529; HSS 15 57; 16 356. 88.  Grammatically identified as an imperative, often in conjunction with a jussive. But commands take many forms. Just to inform officials about problems in their spheres of responsibility carries the force of command. On the other side, some commands even contain threats (for example, “Your head will be cut off ” [HSS 14 14]). 89.  The verbs in the AAC offer partial taxonomy of administration. Each AAC text had an objective reflected in its principal verb. No duplication of letters or other AAC has been found to date. But the texts yield clear patterns of function; some may be found in the activity represented by the verbs in the

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occasioned the letter. 90 By viewing the primary verb commands in the documents as the focus of sending (šapāru) and mission (šipru), we are also able to identify some of the more subtle dynamics of mission. This study identifies the primary verbs in approximately ninety letters, reduces these to twenty recurring verbs, then considers their inter-relationships as seven sets of complementary verbal relationships. From these data I attempt to explain how missions at Arrapḫa move people, goods, and services among over fifty named principalities.

Complementary Relationships in the Primary Commands of the AAC 1) alāku --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- tarû 2) wašāru/paqādu/akālu ------------------------------------------ esēru/şabātu/naşāru 3) leqû ------------------------------------ nadānu ------------------------------------- lā kalû 4) šapāru -------------------------------- mahāru ------------------------------------- wabālu 5) wašābu ---------------------------------------------------------------------- ḫalāqu/šarāqu 6) qabû 91 l�������������������������������������������������������������������������������� lā qabû 7) epēšu 92 l������������������������������������������������������������������������������� lā epēšu

From this grid, I attempt to isolate taxonomy of operations indicating kind of movement, which may be subdivided based on letter and mission function. The letters used in missions serve two basic functions: to command and to inform, 93 although grammatical and syntactical options to communicate both vary considerably. Commands are comprised of imperatives, and inform structures occur throughout the document. Some command letters even have an inform segment at the letter’s end. Both command and inform messages may appear in a variety of grammatical structures. In fact, some of the letter-reports use an imperative “be informed.” The seven sets of complementary actions may be divided into command and inform groupings, then again into people, commodities, and services. They may then be explained based on their mission.

Taxonomy of Primary Verbs in Arrapḫa Missions People (Generally entailing services and procedures) Command: alāku ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- tarû texts. Each document had one primary task-objective reflected usually in a verb or verb cluster, as well as in its subordinate structures. The verbs demonstrate how officials accomplished work over distance, the primary objective being the transfer of administrative authority, in the process of authorization. With respect to the diplomatic correspondence at Amarna, Avruch says, “In the body of the letter lies the utilitarian ‘point’ of the message: the specific request, proposal, démarche, complaint, inventory, arrangement for commercial transaction, or laissez-passer—the very stuff of diplomacy” (Avruch 2000: 157). 90.  The command is best interpreted within its social context or framework, that is its sphere, without which the meaning will be unclear. Missions cross multiple spheres and span individual, juridical, ideological, commercial, administrative, and military spheres, essentially all spheres of Arrapḫa administrative activity, although we would do well to remember that these spheres are rubrics created for the study of society. 91.  The generic word, “to speak.” But in every case only to an official whose titled role defines the nature of the speaking or message. 92.  The generic word, to “to do.” But a specific action is stated in document, for example, “to prepare food.” 93.  The Arrapḫa letters are similar to the Amarna correspondence in this respect. “The same twopart classification serves equally well for Greek letters on papyrus” (White 1982: 10).

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The person commanded goes or returns from where he is commissioned. With his return, the commodity he carries is not present with the letter sender. The objective is to ensure that persons move to other places from where they are when receiving the letter. The letter focus is more on the agent than commodities or mobilia. wašāru/akālu (š) ------------------- esēru -------------------- ṣabātu ------------------ naṣāru

Third party people or commodities are ordered to be released or collected by other people. Third party missions may transfer authorization from the sender to the recipient or the third party, depending on what type of mission is in view. qabû --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- idû

Second party people are either ordered to inform the administrative sender or to receive information from the sender through the letter/messenger. The mission focus is on ordering a second party to report information to third party individuals and groups. Report: wašābu --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- yānu

Third-party people are either present or missing. The sender informs the recipient or a third party of the problem and surrounding circumstances that will help resolve the problem.

Commodities and Services The mission entails moving commodities from one location to another, often as part of the apportioning of raw materials, production, and distribution, all of which required authorized agency. It is also may include dispatching skilled labor to locations where it was needed. These missions often require complex processes with multiple phases. maḫāru ------------------------------ nadānu ------------------------------------------ lā kalû

With the commands to receive, give, or not hold back, commodities are ordered or released, primarily without agency. The people addressed in the letters are usually stationary. With maḫāru the goods are present with the sending administrator. With nadānu and lā kalû the goods are with the recipient. šapāru ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- wabālu

Administrators are ordered to dispatch goods and/or people not present with them, that is, they are somewhere else. The letter or agent will authorize the change, usually in the form of an order. With the verb wabālu, the recipient administrator accompanies the goods/person; the šapāru recipient administrator usually does not accompany the goods/person. leqû ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- maḫāru

“Receive” (maḫāru) is used for some commodity or person that comes to the letter recipient. The distinction, akin to the relationship between “take” and “receive” in English, is perspectival, based on relative position or location of sender or recipient. With leqû, the recipient goes to a receptacle (e.g., a storehouse) to retrieve goods. It is a position–perspective distinction. epēšu -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- lā epēšu

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Administrators are ordered to conduct activities (e.g., prepare food or other complex procedures), which often have a second phase, such as to move (wabālu) the finished product. The mission is a sequence of activity (prepare x, then deliver it). This study of the primary verbs reveals many mission patterns. Although the system covers many mission uses, we cannot conclude that it treated regular systemic functions. In short, while there is regularity and operational predictability in the system of mission at Arrapḫa, there is little use of the system for routine activity. Letters and missions primarily treat systemic breakdowns of various sorts in the Arrapḫan administration, that is, they serve innovative purposes. Tradition (stock letter formulae) and innovation (the specific circumstances of mission determined by need) unite to conduct missions through the letters. No two letters are alike in composition or mission, although basic and functional epistolographic taxonomy may be detected. Missions were dispatched by all regents and in all spheres of Arrapḫa administration: king, queen, prince, and princess all engage missions within military, judicial, religious, production, commercial, and political spheres, as illustrated.

Conclusion With or without correspondence, written or oral, administrative mission is the practice of sending an authorized agent, often a titled official, to perform an administrative act, or to engage a process. Provincial Arrapḫa used letters in some of its missions to accomplish administrative activity, particularly tasks aimed toward more remote areas. 94 Mission served to resolve breakdowns in the Arrapḫa systems in the face of socio-economic dissolution and ultimate destruction at the hands of Arrapḫa’s enemies. 95 94.  Understanding agency and mission in letters may offer insights into administration not visible in other genres of texts. 95.  Jankowska argues that the use of documentation decreases at Arrapḫa with an emerging noncommunal economy: “It is well-known that Mitanni did not regain her status as great power, but gradually declined. Consequently the royal house of Arrapḫe, originally connected with the great king Sausadattar of Mitanni, also lost much of its original authority and power. The centralized economy of the palace falling into decay, the documentation of its operations was discontinued, while the traditional economy of the extended family commune does not require documentation.”(Jankowska 1982: 147).

References Avruch, K. 2000 Reciprocity, Equality, and Status Anxiety in the Amarna Letters. Pp. 154–64 in Amarna Diplomacy: The Beginnings of International Relations. Edited by R. C. Cohen and R. Westbrook. Baltimore: JHUP. Cross, D. 1937 Movable Property in the Nuzi Documents. American Oriental Series 10. New Haven: American Oriental Society. Dosch, G. 1987 Non-Slave Labor in Nuzi. Pp. 223–35 in Labor in the Ancient Near East. Edited by M. A. Powell. AOS 68. New Haven: American Oriental Society. Gelb, I. J. et al. 1956 The Assyrian Dictionary of the Oriental Institute of the University Chicago. Chicago: UCP.

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Gianto, A. 1990 Word Order Variation in the Akkadian of Byblos. Studia Pohl 15. Roma: Editrice Pontificio Istituto Biblico. Greene, John T. 1998 The Role of the Messenger and Message in the Ancient Near East: Oral and Written Communication in the Ancient Near East and in the Hebrew Scriptures: Communicators and Communication in Context. BJS 169. Atlanta: Scholars Press. Jankowska, N. B. 1982 The Mitannian ⁄attiwasa in Arraphe. Pp. 138–49 in Societies and Language of the Ancient Near East: Studies in Honour of I. M. Diakonoff. Edited by J. N. Postgate. Warminster, England: Aris & Phillips LTD. Laroche, E. 1980 Glossaire de la langue Hourrite. Paris: Editions Klincksieck. Maidman, M. P. 1995 Nuzi: Portrait of an Ancient Mesopotamian Provincial Town. Pp. 931–47 in Civilizations of the Ancient Near East. Vol. II. Edited by J. M. Sasson. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons. 2010 Nuzi Texts and Their Uses as Historical Evidence. SBLWAW 18. Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature. Meier, S. A. 1988 The Messenger in the Ancient Semitic World. HSM 45. Atlanta: Scholars Press. Michalowski, P. 1993 Letters from Early Mesopotamia. SBLWAW 3. Atlanta: Scholars Press. Millard, A. R. 2004 Amorites and Israelites: Invisible Invaders. Pp.  148–62 in The Future of Biblical Archaeology: Reassessing Methodologies and Assumptions, The Proceedings of a Symposium August 12 2004 at Trinity International University. Edited by J. K. Hoffmeier and Alan Millard. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. 2005 Only Fragments from the Past: The Role of Accident in Our Knowledge of the Ancient Near East. Pp. 301–19 in Writing and Ancient Near Eastern Society: Papers in Honour of Alan R. Millard. Edited by P. Bienkowski, C. Mee, and E. Slater. LHB/OTS/JSOTS 426. London: T&T Clark. Moran, W. L. 1992 The Amarna Letters. Baltimore: JHUP. Negri Scafa, P. 1995 The Scribes of Nuzi and Their Activities Relative to Arms according to Palace Texts. SCCNH 5: 53–69. 1998 ‘ana pani abulli šaṭir’. Gates in the Texts of the City of Nuzi. SCCNH 9: 139–62. Sasson, J. M. 1972 Some Comments on Archive Keeping at Mari. Iraq 34: 55–67. Veenhof, K. R. 2003 Archives of Old Assyrian Traders. Pp. 78–123 in Ancient Archives and Archival Traditions: Concepts of Record-Keeping in the Ancient World. Edited by M. Brosius. Oxford: OUP. von Soden, W. 1959–81  Akkadisches Handwörterbuch. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. 1969 Grundriss der Akkadischen Grammatik. Analecta Orientalia 33. Rome: Pontificio Istituto Biblico. White, J. L. 1982 The Ancient Epistolography Group in Retrospect. Semeia 22: 1–14. Zaccagnini, C. 1973 Lo scambio dei doni nel Vicino Oriente durante I secoli XV-XIII. Orientis Antiqui Collectio XI. Roma: Centro per le antichità e la storia dell’arte del Vicino Oriente.

Geopolitical Patterns and Connectivity in the Upper Khabur Valley in the Middle Bronze Age Alessio Palmisano London

1. Introduction The Upper Khabur Valley, here defined as the region located in north-eastern Syria, has in the last years become the focus of many field archaeological surveys and excavations. Despite the recent disciplinary impact and the increase of archaeological end textual data, the understanding of the political and economic geography of this area has been limited both spatially and contextually. Now, it is time to reconsider it from a holistic landscape approach by integrating textual, archaeological and spatial data in order to have a more complete understanding of the phenomena. Recently, Risvet (2008: 597–598) and Kantner (2008: 41–42) have pointed out that archaeological surveys data alone do not allow the scholars to model ancient political and economic landscapes if they are not contextualised with historical evidences. At this point, I will integrate the written sources, the archaeological and spatial data into a quantitative and statistical approach in order to have a better and complete understanding of the economic and political geography in the Upper Khabur basin in the early 2nd millennium b.c. (ca. 2000–1700 b.c.).

2.  Data Sources and Study Area The Upper Khabur valley is located within the Syrian Jezira, an area measuring an extent of 37,480 km2 and confined between the Tigris and Euphrates rivers. This area is bounded by the Syrian/Iraqi border to the east, by the Syrian/Turkish border to the north, by the Jebel Sinjar and by the Jebel ‘Abd-al-Aziz to the south, and by the Khabur River to the west (Fig. 1). The annual amount of precipitation throughout the basin varies according to the latitude, so that the quantity of rainfall declines as one moves southward (FAO 1966: 52–57; see Fig. 2). These averages can annually vary by 20/30 percent and can strongly affect the settlement patterns in the area if we consider that a threshold of 250 mm precipitation isohyet is generally accepted by the scholars as the minimum for a successful crop in a dry-farming agriculture (Ur 2010: 10–11). The use of this modern rainfall data as proxy reflecting the past climate conditions in the area is still a debatable open matter. Some scholars have proposed that fourth and third millennia were wetter than at present (Hole 1997; Deckers and Riehl 2007), while the second half of the third millennium 369

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Fig. 1.  Map of Middle Bronze Age sites in the Upper Khabur valley.

Fig. 2.  Rainfall in the Upper Khabur basin. Isohyets derived from FAO 1966 (map 1).

b.c. witnessed a drying phase causing the collapse of settlements not just in the Upper Khabur basin, but also throughout the eastern Mediterranean and the Near East (Bar-Matthews et al. 1999; Weiss 2002). The surviving cuneiform corpus from Northern Mesopotamia has yielded few textual evidences for the first two centuries of the 2nd millennium b.c. In fact, the earliest written sources concerning the Upper Khabur basin are represented by seven texts discovered in the Kültepe/Kanesh’s kārum II, and so dated between the reigns of Erishum I and Naram-Suen (ca. 1950–1830 b.c.) (see Nashef 1991: 11–12; Ulshöffer 1995: no. 179, 299, 597, and 599).

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On the other hand, the scantiness of written sources from the first two centuries of the second millennium b.c. (ca. 2000–1800 b.c.) contrasts with its richness in the 18th century b.c. In fact, the archives from Mari (ca. 25,000 clay tablets), Tell Leilan (600 tablets; see Eidem 2010), Tell al-Rimah (Dalley et al. 1976), Tell Shemshara (146 clay tablets from the palace; see Eidem 1992; Eidem & Laessøe 2001) and Chagar Bazar (218 clay tablets; see Talon 1997; Tunca & Lacambre 2002) have provided a big amount of data. The archaeological excavations and surveys carried out in the Upper Khabur valley by Syrian and foreigner teams in the Syrian Jezira have significantly increased in the past three decades. The vast majority of the Upper Khabur valley has been sistematically surveyed during the past three decades by a series of intensive and extensive archaeological surveys that have detected 339 sites occupied during the early 2nd millennium b.c. (Meijer 1986; Wilkinson and Tucker 1995; Eidem and Warburton 1996; Lyonnet 2000; Ristvet 2005; Ur and Wilkinson 2008; Ur 2010).

3.  The Political Geography in the Upper Khabur Valley in the Early 2nd Millennium (ca. 2000–1700 b.c.). The history of the Upper Khabur valley, considering the available written sources, can be divided into three main phases: phase 1 (ca. 1900–1792 b.c.); phase 2 (ca. 1792–1776 b.c.); phase 3 (ca. 1776–1728 b.c.). As I have previously stated, there are very few textual evidences that can help to reconstruct the political geography of Northern Mesopotamia in the first two centuries of the 2nd millennium b.c. (ca. 2000–1800 b.c.). We know that in the 19th century b.c. the ancient city of Apum hosted a kārum (perhaps to identify with a site in the surrounding area of Tell Leilan) where the Old Assyrian merchants travelling from Assur to Kanesh rested, equipped their caravans and sold goods to the local people. The second phase is dominated by the figure of Shamshi-Adad I, who perhaps inherited the power from his father Ila-kabkabu around 1833 in Ekallatum, a centre close the city of Asshur. He ruled for about ten years in Ekallatum until he had to flee to Babylon after the conquest of his city by Naram-Suen of Eshnunna. After Naram-Suen’s death, Shamshi-Adad returned to Ekallatum from exile around 1811, and conquered Asshur in 1808 b.c. (Villard 1995: 873). Then, he extended his dominion westward into northern Syria by conquering kingdoms in the Khabur valley, such as Apum, and he founded a new royal capital at Shubat-Enlil, the modern Tell Leilan (Van de Mieroop 2007: 107). In the same period Yahdun-Lim, king of Mari, managed to impose his authority over a territory spanning from the Balikh River until the Jaghjagh River (Charpin and Ziegler 2003, 38). Perhaps around the beginning of the 18th century the Upper Khabur triangle was divided into two areas: the land to the west of the Jaghjagh River characterized by a rough coalition of petty kingdoms under the influence of Yahdun-Lim (Charpin and Ziegler 2003, 53; Joannes 1996, 344–345), and the land to the east of the river under the power of Shamshi-Adad I. Inevitably there was a battle between the two hegemonic kingdoms in which Yahdun-Lim defeated Shamshi-Adad I at the gates of Nagar (Tell Brak). Nevertheless, after Yahdun-Lim’s death (ca. 1794 b.c.), Shamshi-Adad I clashed with the new king of Mari Sumu-Yaman and conquered the city around 1792 b.c. (Charpin and

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Ziegler 2003, 78–79). After this conquest he ruled a large area from Asshur in the east to Tuttul on the Balikh in the west. Shamshi-Adad I died around 1776, maybe in a battle after being attacked simultaneously by Yamkhad and Eshnunna or for natural causes. Ishme-Dagan inherited the kingdom of his father but was only able to protect Assyria’s traditional territorial heartland. The last phase of the Khabur triangle’s history is characterized by an unstable and fragmented political situation. Around the half of the 18th century Apum and Kahat (probably Tell Barri) played an important role in the area. In fact, some written sources from Tell Leilan tell us that Kahat was an important kingdom between 1750–1728 b.c. spreading its territory from “Nawar and Nawar”. One Nawar could be identified as Tell Brak, while the other one as a city to the north of Kahat (Salvini 1998: 29–32). The last three kings of Shubat-Enlil/Shehna such as Mutiya, Till-abnû and Yakun-ashar (ca. 1750–1728) ruled a large territory (Ristvet 2008: 586–592), which perhaps extended throughout the eastern part of the Khabur triangle. The end of this period is marked by the looting of Tell Leilan by Samsu-Iluna (king of Babylon) in the 1728 b.c. The last known king of Tell Leilan Yakun-ashar was taken prisoner (Eidem 2008: 257).

4.  Interpreting the Archaeological Settlement Patterns The detection of specific settlement patterns needs the adoption of a quantitative approach and inferential spatial statistics for interpreting and explaining even the most vague and complex aspects of the world. Therefore, the use of models and analytical techniques are necessary for testing hypothesis and for detecting significant patterns in statistical terms. At this point, I will use three statistical techniques: Chi-squared test, Ripley’s K function and rank-size analysis. The Chi-squared test is used for data classified into different categories and for evaluating the correspondence between distributions. The data used for performing this analysis are represented by the actual distribution of annual rainfall in the Upper Khabur basin as proxy reflecting the past climate conditions in the area (see FAO 1966: 52–57). In this test the following null hypothesis is specified: settlements distribution is not in relation to the rainfall and the climatic conditions. After carrying out the test, I got a p-value >0.001. This result indicates that there is only a 0.1% chance of falsely rejecting the null hypothesis. The chi-squared test gives us two important results: there was correlation between the settlements distribution and the rainfall, and more than expected sites are located in the northern Khabur basin, where there are zones having higher amount of annual precipitations (see Fig. 2). Therefore, the environmental factors and in particular the availability of water, in an area characterized by rain-fed and dry farming agriculture, could have strongly affected the distribution of settlements. The second statistical technique used is the rank-size analysis (see Auerbach 1913; Zipf 1949), which has been used in archaeology for studying the settlement systems in a specific study area (see Savage 1997: 233). In Archaeology the distribution of settlements sizes often do not conform to the rank-size rule and the plotted settlement distribution line can be steeper (primate distribution) or shallower (convex distribution) than the expected line. A rank-size plot of the 339 sites occupied

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Fig. 3.  Rank-size plot for the Upper Khabur basin (ca. 19001700 b.c.).

in the early 2nd millennium b.c. in the Upper Khabur valley shows a convex distribution (Fig. 3). A convex distribution indicates that large settlements are smaller and/or small settlements are larger than expected. This distribution indicates that there is little political and economic integration among the communities of a specific settlement system, and less “vertical” integration between the large cities and the small rural villages. This distribution may reflect the unstable and fragmented political situation in the Upper Khabur basin and the alternating phenomena of interregional integration (for instance the Shamshi-Adad I’s kingdom) and local segregation. The last spatial statistical analysis is represented by the global and local Ripley’s K function for detecting phenomena of aggregation or segregation among the settlements. The global K function is obtained by counting the number of point within radius d of an event (in this case a settlement) and calculating the mean count for all events; then, the mean count is divided by the overall study area event density (Lloyd 2007: 177). I carried out an univariate global Ripley’s K function for all 339 settlements by using an interval of 50 metres (the minimum nearest neighbour distance between the settlements) and a maximum bandwidth of 10 km. I used Monte Carlo simulations of points randomly distributed in order to estimate local confidence limits of the null hypothesis of complete spatial randomness (CSR) and I obtained 99 percent confidence interval by carrying out 1000 iterations (Bevan and Conolly 2006: 220). These estimates are, then, compared to the observed values of K (L) in order to provide a statistical robust measure of a clustered or regular point distribution in our study area. The Ripley`s K plot shows a strong positive deviation from the confidence interval and indicates that from a distance (r) approximately greater than 100 m sites cluster into statistically significant groups (pt Ḫattuša

it-ta ~ i7-da — CTH 314 - KUB 4 6, obv. II. 7 u3-du2-ud-ta ~ u3-du2-ud-da — KUB 4 7, 4

Emar

šu-bu-ta-mu-ni ~ šub-bu-da-mu-ne — E 729, 15 ra-ra-ta-mu-ni ~ ra-ra-da-mu-ne — E 729, 16 Ugarit -u2-ru-ud-ta ~ gurud-da — AuOrS 23: 21, 79 tu-mu-ga ~ dumu-ĝu10 — AuOrS 23: 21, 86

g>k Ḫattuša

ki-ki ~ gi4-gi4 — CTH 314 - KUB 4 5, II. 8 ka-tar-zu ka-an-s[i-il] ~ ka-tar-zu ga-an-si-il — KUB 37 100, rev. 22

Emar

kala-ke ~ kala-ge — E 776, 4 -ki-im ~ -gen7 — E 767, II. 7

Ugarit

i-ki ~ igi — RS 86.2210, II. § 8 ki-il-za ~ gil-sa — RS 1979.25, 41

The substitution of a voiceless with a voiced consonant, as in the following examples, is less common.

t>d Ḫattuša

du-uš-ka-ra ~ tuš-ĝar-ra — CTH 314 — KUB 4 5, II. 11

Emar

u-du ~ dutu — E 768, II. 3, 4

Ugarit du-ma ~ tum2-ma — RS 86.2210, II. § 4 18.  For the sake of clarity these alterations do not concern the reconstructed phonology of Sumerian (on which see Jagersma 2010: 31–67) but take place at phonographic level.

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k>g Ḫattuša

ga-lam-ma ~ kalam-ma — CTH 314 — KUB 4 6, obv. II. 6

Emar

ka lu-i-gi-du-ga-an-ni ~ ka lu2-igi-du-ka-ni — E 767, II. 4

Ugarit

ba-an-gu ~ ba-an-ku4 — RS 86.2210, II. §7

Moving on to vowels, anomalies are subdivided in alterations of a, alterations of u and alterations of e and i. Many alterations are cases of assimilation, either regressive or progressive. As far as the vowel a is concerned, the shift a > e/i is more common than a > u. At Ḫattuša, a > u is only known from tablets drafted by local scribes. The vowel u provides a small number of alterations and it is mostly replaced by a in all three archives. 19 As expected the vowels e and i, in most cases, undergo a mutual substitution, so that this reciprocal replacing was probably not perceived as an actual alteration.

Alterations of a Ḫattuša

e ~ a — KUB 30 4, right col. 10 e-ta ~ a-ta — KUB 30 1, IV. 26 i7-ti ~ i7-da — KUB 37 111, obv. II. 9 te-le ~ til-la — KUB 37 111, obv. II. 3

Emar

ba!-an!-du-gaz ~ ba-an-da-gaz — E 729, 26 u-du ~ u4-da — E 767, II. 3 i-gi-du-ut-tu ~ igi-du-ta — E 767, II. 3

Ugarit

a-lim ~ alam — AuOrS 23: 21, 81 ka-du-gi-ni ~ ka-du10-ga-ni — RS 1979.25, 6 bur-bur-ni-ik-ke ~ bar-bar-e-ne-ke4 — AuOrS 23: 21, 68 šu-kur2 ~ šu-kar2 — U 5 164, 30 -ku-du ~ kud-da — RS 86.2210, II. § 3

Alterations of u Ḫattuša

niĝ2-ur2-lim3-ma ~ niĝ2-ur2-limmu2 — CTH 314 - KUB 4 5, II. 7 n[u-u]n-za-a ~ nu-un-zu-a — KUB 30 1, I. 14

Emar

u-ga ~ ugu — E 767, II. 19a -tu-ka-a ~ -tuku-a — E 767, II. 4

19.  The substitution of u with e–i is documented in a few cases; cfr. a-ru-ri ~ da-ru-ru (RS 1979.25, 8), ši-daq-qa ~ šu tag-ga (AuOrS 23: 50, 36 II).

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-da ~ -du8 — RS 86.2210, I. § 8 nu-uz-za-a ~ nu-zu-a — RS 17.10, obv. 17

Alterations of e and i Ḫattuša

e-mi-bi ~ eme-bi — KBo 36 13, right col. 13 -gi-im ~ -gen7 — KUB 30 1, II. 2, 18 uš-ra-a ~ uš7-ri-a — KUB 30 1, I. 5

Emar

e-re-e-du-ga- ~ eridu-ga — E 729, 12 ti-la-ši ~ ti-la-še3 — E 775, 23

Ugarit

in-ki ~ denki — AuOrS 23: 21, 85, 87; RS 1979.25, 14 na-i-zu ~ na-e-zu — AuOrS 23: 21, 86 su-pa- ~ sipa- — RS 1979.25, 19 de-en-ni-ig ~ dinig — RS 17.10, obv. 12

The main question is to understand the origin of these writings namely if the alterations are the work of local scribes, or belong to a stream of tradition rooted in Mesopotamia. In order to answer this question the Old Babylonian unorthographic texts must be considered. These sources are from northern Babylonia, mainly from the cities of Meturan and Sippar. 20

voiced > voiceless -ke ~ -gen7 — SK 94+, E 13 u3-nu-ka ~ unuki-ga — VS II 48, 6 [t]u-u3-tu ~ du8-du8 — H 179+ II, 2 aš-ta-am ~ eš2-dam — H 97 I, 47 ba-ap-pa-ar ~ babbar2 — H 103, I, 19; H 74, 19

voiceless > voiced in-da- ~ im-ta- — SK 94+, B, E 35–39 eri-du8-da ~ eridu-ta — H 97 III, 15 bi-iš ~ peš2 — H 103, I. 24 (ĝeš) niĝ2-gul-da ~ ĝešniĝ2-gul-ta — H 178, obv. 5, 6

Alterations of a e ~ a — H 97 III, 10; IV, 32 ḫa-li ~ ḫal-la — H 97 III, 38 si-si ~ si-sa2 — H 110, rev. 5, 6, 7

Alterations of u mu-ri ~ muru9 — H 97 I, 22 ba-an-zi ~ ba-an-zu — H 97 III, 17 nu-za-a-ni ~ nu-zu-a-ni — H 97 IV, 14 20. General studies on the unorthographic texts are: Bergmann 1964, Bergmann 1965, Krecher 1966, Krecher 1968; for the Meturan texts see: Cavigneaux 1991; Cavigneaux, Al-Rawi 1993a, 1993b, 1995a, 1995b, 2002. Only a selection of texts has been considered in the present paper.

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da-ga-ab ~ du10-ga-ab — H 110, rev. 13, 15, 16 im-ma-ab-da-a-ta ~ im-ma-ab-du7-a-ta — H 178, rev. 10

Alterations of e and i -ši ~ -še3 — H 97 II, 6 ke-ši-da-ni ~ keše2-da-ni — H 97 III, 35 ba-an-su-ni-eš ~ ba-an-sun5-ne-eš — H 97 VI, 4 mu-un-na-a ~ mu-un-e3-a — H 97 VI, 20 i-ni-in-ki ~ en den-ki — H 103 II, 12

The analysis of the Old Babylonian documentation shows that most of the alterations attested in the Syro-Anatolian texts are also documented in the Old Babylonian sources. Alterations can affect both consonants, with the substitution of voiced consonant signs with the correspondent voiceless and vice versa, and vowels with anomalies similar to those found in the texts from Ḫattuša, Emar and Ugarit. This comparison indicates that the unorthographic spellings of the Syro-Anatolian texts are, in most cases, rooted in the Sumerian literary tradition of the northern Babylonian scribal schools. The concept itself of phonetic orthography could not have been developed independently from the Mesopotamian tradition, but it must be the result of a previously acquired knowledge. 21 Although the phonetic spellings of the Syro-Anatolian texts belong to a stream of tradition, local tendencies are also documented. These are mostly found in the phonetic versions added to texts in normal orthography and particularly concern the use of sibilants. The substitution of s with š is mostly attested in texts from Ḫattuša and in a manuscript discovered at Ugarit but imported from the Hittite capital, “The Message of Lu-diĝira to his Mother.” This alteration may reflect the Hittite syllabary that had no other signs to indicate a sibilant than those with š. 22 Even though this alteration is attested in the Old Babylonian texts, its concentration in tablets written by Hittite scribes suggests that it was influenced by local scribal habits. 23

s>š Ḫattuša

a2-šu-šu ~ a2 su3-su3 — KBo 36 11, 39 ša-an ~ saĝ — KUB 57 126, rev. II, 7 a-ši-la ~ asila — AuOrS 23: 50, 35 II, 41 II ša!-aš-gu[r] ~ siškur — AuOrS 23: 50, 42 II

The graphic and phonological analysis undertaken thus far is propaedeutic to a general discussion on the tradition of the Sumerian literary texts in Syria and Anatolia in the Late Bronze Age. 24 In order to understand the origin of the Syro-Anatolian 21. This knowledge was probably transmitted through the lexical lists; Izi and Kagal Boǧazköy (MSL 13, 132–53, von Weiher 1970, Moran 1974, Wilhelm 1989) and Urra Emar (= E556, cfr. Civil 1989) report a column in phonetic Sumerian. 22.  Hoffner and Melchert 2008: 38. 23.  Even though in a context of spoken language, a similar phenomenon is documented in the Ur III archive of Garšana where scribes used the signs SA and ŠA to represent /ša/, cf. Sallaberger 2011: 364–65. 24.  The picture here presented is a preliminary outcome which needs to be validated in the light of further research. Due to the limit of the present paper the grammatical analysis, which was part of my dissertation, cannot be presented here, but it will be the object of further publication(s).

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documentation the contemporaneous sources from the Middle Assyrian and Middle Babylonian archives must be addressed. 25 The comparison between the two corpora (i.e. the Syro-Anatolian and the Mesopotamian documentation) reveals many differences. First of all no single Sumerian literary work attested in the Middle Assyrian or Middle Babylonian corpora is documented in the western libraries. For instance, the poems related to the god Ninurta, Lugal-e and Angim, 26 which are two of the few myths to be documented continuously from the Old Babylonian period to the first millennium and are also attested in Middle Babylonian and Middle Assyrian copies, have not been found in Syria and Anatolia. Absent in the libraries of Ḫattuša, Emar and Ugarit, are the eme-sal texts 27 as well. The second main difference concerns the orthography. As seen above, the Syro-Anatolian texts were mostly drafted in phonetic orthography, which, conversely, is extremely rare in the Middle Babylonian and Middle Assyrian manuscripts. The fact that two contemporaneous corpora, which obviously trace back to the Old Babylonian scribal schools, show such completely diverse features, is astonishing. To solve this discrepancy, I would suggest a work-in-progress hypothesis which looks at the stream of tradition and considers the differences among the Old Babylonian scribal schools. Indeed, the Mesopotamian sources and Syro-Anatolian documentation belong to different traditions. The Mesopotamian texts, either by direct derivation, such as the Middle Babylonian sources, or by influence of the Babylonian culture as in the case of the Middle Assyrian documentation, depend on the classical tradition of Nippur. 28 On the contrary, as shown by the analysis of the phonetic writings, the Sumerian texts of the western libraries depend on a non-Nippur tradition, probably rooted in northern Babylonia, which goes back to the Old Babylonian period and in particular to its later phase. The phonetic orthography, even though attested in Nippur and Ur, 29 developed mainly in the centers of northern Babylonia such as Sippar and Meturan where most of the Old Babylonian unorthographic texts come from. 30 At the end of the Old Babylonian period the knowledge of phonetic writings was acquired in the western regions. As a result a new form of tablet containing versions in Sumerian, phonetic Sumerian and Akkadian was invented. 31 These tablets were 25.  A complete study on the published Middle Assyrian and Middle Babylonian Sumerian literary texts has been undertaken in Viano 2010: 111–147. 26.  For these literary works see Cooper 1978, Caplice 1980, Seminara 2001. 27.  Published Middle Assyrian and Middle Babylonian eme-sal texts are KAR 9+ (Maul 1988: 81– 90) and CT 58 70 (Geller 1992); on the history of eme-sal texts see Cohen 1981: 2–6. 28.  The influence of the Babylonian milieu on Middle Assyrian texts is evident in texts such as KAR 15 and 16 which are copies of a hymn to Ninisinna drafted by scribes who bear Babylonian names on the basis of manuscripts from Nippur and Babylon as explicitly quoted in the colophon; cfr. Cohen 1975. The Middle Babylonian manuscripts (most of which are from Nippur), at least those published so far, trace back to the Old Babylonian texts from Nippur in terms of orthography, grammar and typology; in addition the comparison between Middle Babylonian and Old Babylonian parallels shows very limited differences. 29.  Sjöberg 1974: 166. 30.  The development of unorthographic writings may be understood in the light of the influence of the Semitic and Akkadian environment which has always been heavier in the North than in the South of Mesopotamia. The situation of Garšana in the Ur III period, even though in a completely different context, that of spoken Sumerian in a Sumero-Akkadian bilingual environment, may represent a similar case of influence of Akkadian on Sumerian. 31.  On the history of bilingual and multilingual tablets see Cooper 1993.

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based on bilingual manuscripts, since no Akkadian translation can be attributed to Syrian or Hittite scribes. The connection with this stream of tradition is also evidenced by the fact that some of the texts attested in the Syro-Anatolian archives such as “The Ballad of Early Rulers” and “Incantation to Utu” 32 are elsewhere documented only in Old Babylonian manuscripts from northern Babylonia. 33 Although the majority of the Syro-Anatolian documentation roots in the northern Babylonian scribal schools, there are differences between the texts and between the three archives (Ḫattuša, Emar and Ugarit). The Sumerian literary documents from Ḫattuša can be attributed to three main schools, each characterized by its own script: the Mesopotamian, the Assyrian-Mitannian and the Hittite. 34 The first scribal school includes the Mesopotamian tablets imported to Ḫattuša. 35 Assyro-Mitannian texts are tablets drafted in the Assyrian scribal schools during the fifteenth and fourteenth centuries when Assyria was under the Mitannian rule. 36 These tablets, mostly incantations, were brought to Ḫattuša after the fall of the Hurrian kingdom by the hand of Suppiluliuma in the second half of the 14th century b.c. These texts reflect the role of the Assyrian and Mitannian scribal schools in the process of transmission of the Sumerian documentation. They represent a northern Mesopotamian tradition as suggested by D. Schwemer. 37 The third main group includes the tablets drawn up by Hittite scribes at Ḫattuša dating to the late Imperial Age. They are probably exercise tablets and include the manuscripts of texts drafted in Sumerian, phonetic Sumerian, Akkadian and Hittite such as the “Hymn to Iškur-Adad” and “The Message of Lu-diĝira to his Mother.” 38 Although the difference with the Mesopotamian sources have been here stressed, contacts with the contemporaneous Middle Babylonian scribal schools were also attested in the Late Empire. In fact the magical text “Incantation to Utu”, attested at Ḫattuša on KUB 4 11, is known from possible Middle Babylonian tablets. The close relationship between the Emar and Ugarit documentation in the process of reception of the Sumerian tradition is evident by the presence in both centers of the same literary works such as “The Ballad of Early Rulers” and “Enlil and Namzitarra.” The differences and variations between the Emarite and the Ugarit drafts of the same compositions are probably due to the presence of different archetypes or sub-archetypes drawn up elsewhere else before reaching Emar and Ugarit. The diffusion of this material was complex and is still not fully understood, but probably the Assyrian and Mitannian scribal schools, and likely those of Karkemish and Aleppo have been involved. 32.  Alster 1991. 33.  Probably it is no coincidence that the Sumerian model of the hymns and prayers to the Sun-god is attested in a manuscript from Meturan, cfr. Metcalf 2011. 34.  For an overview of the influence of different cuneiform cultures on the Hittite writing system see Weeden 2011: 18–30. 35.  The bulk of the imported tablet consist of a small group of monolingual incantations (KUB 30 1–4; Falkenstein 1939, Geller 1989) which on the basis of orthographic and typological evidences (Viano 2010: 148–150) show very similar traits to the Meturan and Sippar texts. They are possibly Late Old Babylonian or early Middle Babylonian manuscripts and probably represent the earliest importation of Mesopotamian pieces. As a date of importation I would suggest the raid of Mursili I into Babylonia. 36.  For the term Assyro-Mitannian see Wilhelm 1992. 37.  Schwemer 1998 and 2004. 38.  The “Hymn to Iškur-Adad” has been found in the so called Haus am Hang which was probably a scribal school, see Weeden 2011: 81–91.

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The dependence on a tradition does not mean that there was no influence of local practices in drafting tablets. As noted above the phonetic versions of those compositions, improperly defined trilingual (since they contain the versions in standard orthography, phonetic orthography and the Akkadian translation), are clearly elaborations of local scribes. In conclusion I want to suggest a hypothesis concerning the reason to why the main tradition of the Sumerian literature, that of Nippur, which is reflected in the Middle Babylonian and Middle Assyrian documentation, is poorly represented in the western regions. Nippur like all the cities of southern Mesopotamia declined at the end of the Old Babylonian period by the emergence of the Land of the Sea and the struggles that followed. Nippur scholarly activities reappeared around the end of the fifteenth century b.c. Thus one may understand that when the western regions came into contact with the Sumerian culture at the beginning of the second half of the second millennium the main scribal schools on which to draw this knowledge were those of northern Babylonia.

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Cohen, M. E. 1975 The Incantation-Hymn: Incantation or Hymn? JAOS 95: 592–611. 1981 Sumerian Hymnology: The Eršemma. Cincinnati: Hebrew Union College. Cohen, Y. 2009 The Scribes and Scholars of the City of Emar in the Late Bronze Age. HSS 59. Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns. Cole, S. W. 1996 Nippur in Late Assyrian Times. SAAS 4. Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns. Cooper, J. S. 1971 Bilinguals from Boghazköi. I. ZA 61: 1–22. 1972 Bilinguals from Boghazköi. II. ZA 62: 62–81. 1978 The Return of Ninurta to Nippur. Analecta Orientalia 52. Roma: Pontificium Institutum Biblicum. 1993 Bilingual Babel: Cuneiform Texts in Two or More Languages from Ancient Mesopotamia and Beyond. Visible Language 27: 69–96. Dalley, S. 2009 Babylonian Tablets from the First Sealand Dynasty in the Schøyen Collection. CUSAS 9. Bethesda: CLD Press. Dietrich, M. 1998 buluṭ bēlī “Lebe, mein Köning!”. UF 30: 155–200. Falkenstein, A. 1939 Sumerische Beschwörungen aus Boğazköy. ZA 45: 8–41. Geller, M. J. 1989 A New Piece of Witchcraft. Pp. 193–205 in Dumu-e2-dub-ba-a. Studies in honor of Åke W. Sjöberg. Edited by Behrens, H. et al. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Museum. 1992 CT 58, NO. 70. A Middle Babylonian Eršahunga. BSOAS 55: 528–532. Giorgieri, M. 2000 Schizzo grammaticale della lingua Hurrica. Pp. 171–277 in La civiltà dei Hurriti. La parola del passato 55. Edited by De Martino, S. Napoli: Macchiaroli Editore. Hallo, W. W. 1989 Nippur Originals. Pp. 237–247 in Dumu-e2-dub-ba-a. Studies in honor of Åke W. Sjöberg. Edited by Behrens, H. et al. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Museum. 1992 The Syrian Contribution to Cuneiform Literature and Learning. Pp. 69–88 in New Horizons in the Study of Ancient Syria. Bibliotheca Mesopotamica 25. Edited by Chavalas, M. W. and Hayes, J. L. Malibu: Undena. Hoffner Jr., H. A. and Melchert, H. C. 2008 A Grammar of the Hittite Language. Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns. Jagersma, B. 2010 A Descriptive Grammar of Sumerian. PhD Dissertation. Universiteit Leiden. Krecher, J. 1966 Die sumerischen Texte in “syllabischer” Orthographie. ZA 58: 16–65. 1968 Die sumerischen Texte in “syllabischer” Orthographie. WO 4: 252–277. Maul, S. M. 1988 “Herzberuhigungsklagen”. Die sumerisch-akkadischen Eršaḫunga-Gebete. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag. Metcalf, C. 2011 New Parallels in Hittite and Sumerian Praise of the Sun. WO 41: 168–176. Moran, W. 1974 An Apotropaic Formula in KUB 30 6. JCS 26: 55–58. Nougayrol, J. 1968 Textes suméro-accadiens des archives et bibliothéques privées d’Ugarit. Pp.  1–447 in Nouveaux textes accadiens, hourrites et ugaritiques des archives et bibliothèques privées d’Ugarit, commentaires des textes historiques, Mission de Ras Shamra XVI. Ugaritica V. Edited by Nougayrol, J. et al. Paris: Imprimerie Nationale.

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Sallaberger, W. 2011 Sumerian Language Use at Garšana. On Orthography, Grammar, and Akkado-Sumerian Bilingualism. CUSAS 6. Pp. 335–372 in Garšana Studies. Edited by Owen, D. I.. Bethesda: CDL Press. Schwemer, D. 1998 Akkadische Rituale aus Ḫattuša. Die Sammeltafel KBo XXXVI 29 und verwandte Fragmente. TH 23. Heidelberg: Universitätsverlag C. Winter. 2001 Die Wettergottgestalten Mesopotamiens und Nordsyriens im Zeitalter der Keilschriftkulturen: Materialen und Studien nach den schriftlichen Quellen. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag. 2004 Ein akkadischer Liebeszauber aus Ḫattuša. ZA 94: 57–79. Seminara, S. 2001 La versione accadica del Lugal-e. La tecnica babilonese della traduzione dal sumerico e le sue ‘regole’. MVS 8. Roma: Università di Roma “La Sapienza”. Sjöberg, Â. W. 1974 The old babylonian Edubba. AS 20: 159–179. van der Toorn, K. 2000 Cuneiform Documents from Syria-Palestine Texts, Scribe and Schools. ZPDV 116: 97–113. van Soldt, W. H. 1995 Babylonian Lexical, Religious and Literay Texts and Scribal Education at Ugarit and its implications for alphabetic literary texts. Pp. 171–212 in Ugarit: Ein ostmediterranes Kulturzentrum im Alten Orient. Ergebnisse un Perspektiven der Forschung. Band I: Ugarit und seine Umwelt. Edited by Dietrich, M. and Loretz, O. Münster: Ugarit-Verlag. Veldhuis, N. 1999 The Poetry of Magic. Pp. 35–48 in Mesopotamian Magic. Textual, Historical, and Interpretative Perspectives (Ancient Magic and Divination 1). Edited by Abusch, T. and van der Toorn, K. Gronigen: STYX Publications. Viano, M. 2010 La tradizione letteraria sumerica negli archivi siro-anatolici durante il Tardo Bronzo. Ph.D. Dissertation. Università degli Studi di Trieste. forthcoming  A Sumerian Hymn Boǧazköy. WO. von Weiher, E. 1970 Ein Vokabularfragment aus Boğazköy. ZA 62: 109–114. Weeden, M. 2011 Hittite Logograms and Hittite Scolarship (StBoT 54). Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag. Wegner, I. 2007 Hurritisch. Einfürung in die hurritische Sprache. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag. Wilcke, C. 2000 Wer las un scrieb in Babylonien und Assyrien. Überlegungen zur Literalität im Alten Zweistormland (Bayarische Akademie der Wissenschaften, Philosophisch-Historische Klasse 6). München: Verlag der Bayerischen Akademie der Wissenschaften. Wilhelm, G. 1989 Die zweite Tafel der Serie Kagal in Ḫattusa. ZA 79: 73–79. 1992 Zur babylonisch-assyrischen Schultradition in Ḫattuša. Pp.  83–93 in Uluslararasi 1. Hititoloji Kongresi Bildirileri (19–21 Temmuz 1990). Edited by Alp, S. Çorum: Uluslararasi Çorum Hitit Festivali Komitesi Başkanliği.

Territorial Administration in Alalaḫ during Level IV Alvise Matessi Pavia

Introduction Since they were first catalogued by Wiseman (1953), 1 the two corpora of tablets unearthed at Alalaḫ/Tell Açana, in the Amuq plain, one deriving from the 17th century b.c. (level VII) and the other from the15th century (level IV), have proven to be among the richest in the 2nd millennium Near East in terms of economic, political, social and demographic information. The sequence of such remarkable archives in the same place, in two relatively close periods, offers a rare occasion to observe how different political formations, in different historical contexts, built their networks of interaction within approximately the same geographical space. The territorial organization of Alalaḫ’s domain in the context of level VII has been the subject of many studies, based on both epigraphic and archaeological evidence, while, for the period of level IV, this issue has been mainly addressed by focusing on the recent archaeological data acquired under the purview of the Amuq Valley Regional Project. 2 Starting from a coherent archival group, the present paper proposes a new interpretation of some documentary sources on the territorial organization of the kingdom of Alalaḫ during the period of level IV, by providing evidence for an administrative subdivision of the state. These results will then be compared with the situation attested in level VII, viewed through the filter of previous scholarly work. Author’s note:  This paper has been drawn from my MA dissertation “Pratiche di gestione del territorio in un regno siriano del Tardo Bronzo: Geografia politica del regno di Alalaḫ durante l’egemonia Mittanica”, submitted at the University of Pavia in September 2009, under the supervision of professor Clelia Mora and Mauro Giorgieri: I am sincerly grateful with them for their guidance. I owe a special debt of gratitute also to Eva von Dassow, who kindly did me the favour to read and comment on a draft of this paper. Obviously, any mistakes in this work are my own. 1.  Wiseman’s catalogue entries are here abbreviated AT, while uncatalogued tablets are marked according to their museum numbers (ATT etc.). New, more complete, numberings of the Alalaḫ tablets are now provided by Niedorf (2008: 31–121; 433–446), for levels VI-I, and Zeeb (2001: 27–66; 685–691), for level VII. 2.  First excavations at Alalaḫ/Tell Açana, carried out by Sir Leonard Woolley, straddled World War II between 1937 and 1949 (Woolley 1955). The Amuq valley was first surveyed in the 1930′s by Braidwood (1937), who also started excavations in five sites (Braidwood–Braidwood 1960). The recent Amuq Valley Regional Project (AVRP) of the Oriental Institute of Chicago took place between 1995–2005, and as part of it both extensive surveys and excavations at various sites (among which Alalaḫ) were carried out (see Yener 2005). Professor K.A. Yener and her team are now continuing archaeological work at Alalaḫ (Yener 2010).

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The Tablets AT 350, 343, and 341

The coherent archival group formed by AT 350, 343 and 341 has been interpreted as evidence that, sometime during the 15th century BC, the kingdom of Alalaḫ was organized into four administrative “districts”. 3 The tablets record the levying of sheep and goats in various localities of the kingdom. No element helps us in providing them with an exact dating, insofar as they bear neither personal names nor seal impressions. Nonetheless, some characteristics, like their archival context and similarities with other groups of texts, have led to the conclusion that they were produced under Niqmepa, son of Idrimi and second king of Alalaḫ. 4 Notwithstanding the difficult reading of the heading, AT 350 is clearly a summation tablet, recording hundreds of sheep grouped under four captions, respectively referring to Alalaḫ, Mukiš, the šannānū-men and the ḫapirū-men. 5 We can note that the total of 268 sheep attributed to the šannānū in ll. 8–9 matches the heading and grand total of AT 341. On the other hand, AT 341 has the same structure as AT 343, suggesting a relationship with it: lists of livestock attributed to towns are introduced by headings and closed by grand total sections differing from one another only in the numbers. In AT 350: 4 the total of 402 sheep recalls AT 343: 3.  AT 350 and 341 are edited in full in Wiseman’s catalogue (1953: 96–98; copy of 350 in Pl. XXXV). The historical and philological interpretation adopted here has been proposed by von Dassow, who described the group of tablets in their archival context (2005: 44–45) and published AT 343 (2002: 902–906), with philological and historical comments. She later included her main conclusions in the larger context of her work on the social composition of the kingdom of Alalaḫ IV (2008: 216–221). Brief descriptions of AT 350, 341 and 343, moreover, are provided by Niedorf (2008: 101–102), where they are referred to with the respective new numbers 44.12, 44.8 and 44.10. 4.  See von Dassow 2005: 44–45. 5.  According to Wiseman’s copy (1953: Pl. XXXV) the first two signs of l. 1 are MU and BI, which the same author (1953: 98) reads ṭup?-pí, interpreting the former as a scribal mistake. Von Dassow (2008: 216, n. 148) emends MU with GAB, thence reading gab!-bi, “sum total”. Niedorf (2008: 102) retains the value of the first sign, reading MU.BI (literally: “his/their name”) and translating “Einträge (?)”.

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49 and the caption in AT 350: 5, after emending (uruMukḫe), matches the fragmentary heading of AT 343. 6 Therefore, in the light of similar considerations, AT 341, 343 and 350 are considered as belonging to the same “dossier” (hereafter labelled “SG dossier”, from the initials of “sheep” and “goats”): AT 350 would be the summation tablet of data recorded in detail in AT 343 and 341. However, in AT 350 there are two more captions and totals, respectively referring to Alalaḫ (l. 3) and the hapirū (l. 7), whose related data were probably drawn from two tablets similar to AT 341 and 343, now missing: 7 we will return to this point later.

The Alalaḫ IV Districts according to the SG Dossier As stated, the labels Alalaḫ, Mukiš, šannānu and ḫapiru in the SG dossier likely reflected a subdivision of the kingdom in “districts”. In fact, it seems hard to otherwise explain the evidence contained in this archival group: if it can be maintained that in some capacity, the central administration distributed the work of collecting livestock, e.g. assigning functionaries to fictional compartments of the kingdom for the sake of logistical efficiency, the very mention of this subdivision by means of labels, at the very least suggests a convention which was diffused and consequently well understood within the administrative apparatus. However, definitively affirming from these bases that the division in districts evidenced in the SG dossier reflected factual and concrete differences between sectors of the kingdom is more difficult. Let us first have a closer look at the labels Alalaḫ, Mukiš, šannānu and ḫapiru as used in the SG dossier. Then, in the next sections we will explore other sources, searching for more elements which could help us to address this question. The labels Alalaḫ and Mukiš are geographical terms and, for this reason, they cause no particular trouble to modern readers, as they are consistent with the common use of creating districts on the basis of geo-political criteria. The explicit mention of Alalaḫ in an operation involving many other parts of the kingdom is not strange: in terms of political organization, it sounds natural to distinguish the capital city from the rest of the realm. Then, also on account of the comparatively small 6.  A place name Muki(ḫe) is otherwise unattested at Alalaḫ. On the other hand, besides Mukiš, only one place ending in -iš is known to me, Paḫiliš, but it never occurs with the Hurrian derivational suffix -ḫe (see Niedorf 1998, p. 534, s.v. Mukiḫe, and 537, s.v. Paḫiliš). For the reading ˹i˺-din-nu, I follow Niedorf (2008: 101, n. 386), where AT 343 is referred to as 44.10. For an alternative reading, conveying the same meaning, see von Dassow (2002: 902): ˹SUM?˺-nu. 7.  See von Dassow 2002: 905–906. Another document, AT 352, is often linked with the SG dossier. Based on Wiseman’s hand copy (1953: Pl. XXXVI): ro. (1–4) 2 UDU UGU uruMu-ki-šuki / 1 UDU UGU uruYa-at-ḫa-baki / ˻3˼ UDU UGU uruUm-mu / ˹2˺ UDU UGU uruZa-ú-tiki vo. (5–7) ŠU.NIGIN 3 me 94 UDUḫi.a / ša LÚ.MEŠ ša-na-an-ni-emeš / 6 me 19 UDU.Ù.ḪI.A KUR Mu-ki-iš-ḫé. According to l. 6, at least one of the labels in the SG dossier, šannānū-men, is in use in this tablet, with some coherence: in fact, the towns of Yatḫapa and Ummu (ll. 2–3) appear right among the šannānū ones in AT 341. On the inclusion of a town called Mukiš among šannānū-towns, see below. It is uncertain, instead, whether the Mukiš of l. 7 designated the whole kingdom, as usual when preceded by KUR, or the same district of the SG dossier tablets AT 350 and 343. In the first case, the 394 sheep of l. 5, attributed to the šannānū-men, would be a subtotal, to be included in the grand total of 619, referred to Mukiš as kingdom. However, if so, one would expect at least another ŠU.NIGIN just preceding the supposed grand total, or final expressions like kalîma or gabba, “altogether”: this, in fact, seems to be the normal usage in the lists of Alalaḫ IV (see, for example, Dietrich–Loretz 1969a, 81). The lack of any similar aggregative expressions in ll. 5–7 seems to put šannānū and Mukiš on the same level in the economy of the text, suggesting both were meant to be sectors of the kingdom.

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number of livestock associated with it, we can tentatively assume that the caption Alalaḫ in AT 350 referred just to the city itself and its surrounding countryside. On the other hand, uruMukiš in the SG dossier was a rubric for a number of towns, listed one-by-one in the extant parts of AT 343. When faced with the name Mukiš as used in the texts of Alalaḫ IV, we encounter some ambiguity. In fact, especially when preceded by the determinative KUR/mātu, the toponym Mukiš was used to denote by metonimy the whole kingdom. Indeed, in the treaty AT 2, Niqmepa employs both the title LUGAL kurMukiš in the heading and LUGAL uruAlalaḫ on his seal. 8 Since there was also a town called Mukiš, this place name evidently had at least three values: the whole kingdom, a district within it and a single town. The other two terms used in the SG dossier, šannānu and ḫapiru, are more difficult for the modern reader to understand as labels for administrative districts: indeed, they do not convey strictly geo-political meanings, but pertain to the military and social terminology. The akkadian word (LÚ) šannānu signified “archer”, and there is a coherent group in the Alalaḫ IV corpus recording recruitment of šannānū to the army (AT 179 and 145). 9 On the other hand, the term (LÚ) ḫapiru, expressed with the ideogram SA.GAZ in AT 350 as in other texts, is a well-known social definition which had been widely used all over the Near East since the beginning of the Middle Bronze Age. 10 Though a definitive meaning and its variations in different contexts are still under debate, there is a general agreement in considering the word ḫapiru as indicating “displaced” person, or even “marauder” in the most negative sense. In the historical context of Alalaḫ IV, the ḫapirū are first mentioned in the statue of Idrimi (ll. 27–28) as people who gave shelter to the future founder of the Alalaḫian dynasty before his attaining of kingship. Later, during the reign of Idrimi’s successor Niqmepa, the ḫapirū became both an “institutionalised” social group and an army corps, listed in another coherent archival group made up of the tablets AT 180–82, 154 and 161, and parallel to the aforementioned rosters of šannānū. Von Dassow (2008: Chapter 3), in her discussion on the ḫapirū and šannānū roster groups and their relations with other documents, including our SG dossier, reasonably draws the set of conclusions here summarized: A.  Both ḫapirū and šannānū rosters are administrative steps in a general levying of an army, on occasion of a particular martial event, otherwise not explicitly documented in extant sources. 11 B.  With a few exceptions, all towns involved in the šannānū rosters are listed among the šannānū-towns of AT 341 (SG dossier). 12 Thence, the recruitment of the šannānū was geographically limited to the šannānū district. 8.  See the edition of the treaty by Dietrich–Loretz (1997). 9.  On the meaning “archer” of the peripheral Akkadian šannānu and its etymological relationships with Ugaritic ṯnn and Egyptian snny(.w) there is now general consensus. See Rainey 1998, 446– 447; Hoch 1994, 261–263 and, now, Dietrich–Loretz 2009. 10.  For up to date discussions on the ḫapirū at Alalaḫ and in the Ancient Near East, with reference to previous work, see von Dassow 2008, pp. 105–111 and Durand 2011, who also questions the equation with the ideogram SA.GAZ. 11.  In the historical contextualization of the census lists, von Dassow (2008: 364–365) proposes that this event might have been a war between Alalaḫ and Tunip. 12.  Exceptions are: Šettapaḫe, (a town) Mukiš and Zauti. Šettapaḫe is otherwise only attested in the šannānū rosters AT 179 (l. 22) and 145 (ll. 8–9). Curiously, according to AT 179 and 352 (see above), the town Mukiš did not pertain to the namesake district but to the šannānū one (see also von Dassow 2008: 218): it would be tempting to see here some case of homonymy. The town Zauti (AT 179: 29; 197:

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C.  By analogy, the recruitment of ḫapirū is also likely to have taken place in the ḫapirū district referred to in AT 350, about which no town list similar to AT 341 is extant. Such an assumption allows at least the partial restoration of the town composition of the ḫapirū district.

If von Dassow is right, by adding the information provided by AT 343 to conclusions (b) and (c), along with some guesswork concerning the district of Alalaḫ in AT 350, which is not detailed in other extant records, we may represent the geographical scope of the SG dossier as follows: 13

We can immediately note that the Mukiš, šannānū and (restored) ḫapirū districts shared some place names. Assuming that homonyms actually referred to the same place, the occurance of towns pertaining to more than one district suggests that geo-political criteria played a major role only in distinguishing Mukiš from Alalaḫ, whereas different factors influenced the creation of the šannānū and ḫapirū districts. A key for the interpretation of methods and purposes of the territorial organization evidenced by the SG dossier rests precisely upon the understanding of the latter districts: why during the operation recorded in the SG dossier were the šannānū and ḫapirū districts kept apart from each other and from the territorial districts Alalaḫ and Mukiš? Was there any peculiarity, some intrinsic characteristic that caused them to be drawn as districts, or was this separation just a response to some contingent need of the administration? Many of the towns attributed by von Dassow to the ḫapirū district also pertain to the šannānū or Mukiš districts. Moreover, the ḫapirū-towns are treated as a separate group only in the ḫapirū rosters. Towns exclusively pertaining to the ḫapirū district, in fact, appear rather seldom in other Alalaḫ IV documents other than the ḫapirū rosters, mostly along with clusters 5,31) is involved in administrative operations recorded in AT 162, a list of personnel, and in AT 342, a list of livestock. It is also mentioned in the fragmentary list ATT 84/12. See Niedorf 1998, 534–535, 540, 548. 13.  In the list of Mukiš-towns (AT 343), four place names at least are missing (see ll. 5, 15, 39–40) and one is poorly preserved (l. 38: ˹uru˺Pa[-]).

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of Mukiš- or šannānū-towns. 14 Thus, probably, the ḫapirū-towns were geographically scattered and intermingled with those of other districts. If one has to single out some peculiar, intrinsic feature of the ḫapirū district, this probably resides solely in the social composition of its towns: ḫapirū-towns were merely places where important “communities” of ḫapirū lived and were levied for military obligations. The Mukiš and šannānū districts, on the other hand, share only two place names (Nurmanaše and Šidu/araše), 15 thus suggesting they had fairly different geographical settings. A kind of geographical separation seems confirmed by a survey on the rest of the Alalaḫ IV textual corpus, where there is very little involvement of Mukiš- and šannānū- towns together in the same administrative operations. 16 On the contrary, in the case of geographical proximity and intermingling, one would expect an equal intermingling in the documentation. Incidentally, by noting this fact, a positive answer to the aforementioned question is provided: šannānū and Mukiš districts likely possessed some intrinsic, specific features, as far as they were treated as separate units not only in the SG dossier, but, in general, in most of the written sources from Alalaḫ IV.  Yet, such intrinsic features were not related to geographical position alone, because the term šannānu embdodies a non-geographic definition: thus, the separation Mukiš-šannānū depended also on other, more subtle factors, which, fortunately, can be traced in extant documentation, in particular, in two well-known coherent groups of census lists. 14.  See AT 185, involving two ḫapirū-towns, Marmaruki and Šarkuḫe, together with many Mukištowns, or AT 162, involving Marmaruki within a cluster of šannānū-towns. The only other text, except the rosters, where a ḫapirū-town appears (Marmaruki) is the unpublished tablet AT 163. 15.  Niedorf (1998: 537) and Belmonte Marín (2001: 215) suppose the presence of two Nurmanaše, one GAL, “big” (AT 187: 13; 185: 27) and, perhaps, one TUR, “small” (AT 185: 28: [uruNu-ur-ma-n]a-še TUR): so it is plausible that AT 341: 8 and 343: 36 referred each to one of these two towns with the same name. We do not know if Šiduraše (Mukiš-town; AT 343: 6) and Šidaraše (šannānū-town; AT 341: 18) were actually different towns or just variant names for the very same place. A toponym Šidaraše is hapax in AT 341, while Šid/turaše is attested, beside AT 343, in AT 201 (ll. 14, 16) and 187 (l. 16). 16.  Obviously, this statement is valid only considering towns pertaining to a single district. Textual occurrences of all Alalaḫ VII and IV toponyms have been collected by Niedorf (1998) and, among those of other Syrian contexts, Belmonte Marín (2001): my textual survey on the occurrences of relevant towns is based on these repertories. Mere lists of people where relevant towns appear only as attributes of individuals (e.g., as the place of origin), and therefore do not play a role by themselves as the set of a specific operation, have been excluded from counting. Individual texts and coherent archival groups independent from the SG dossier and dealing with clusters of more than two Mukiš-towns are: the census lists 187, 196, the lists of men 223, 224, the ration list 287, the military roster A 79/3, the group of list of horses formed by AT 329, 330, and 338+339 (see von Dassow 2008: 305–310), and a coherent group of census lists (see Dietrich–Loretz 1969a; von Dassow 2008, 135–148: “census A”; see discussion below). Significantly, in many of these instances, there is only one šannānū-town, Laṣṣi, invariably occurring together with Mukiš-towns. Apparently, just because of its regularity, such an exception does not constitute a real break. It rather seems to point to a kind of relationship between Laṣṣi and the district Mukiš we are not able to grasp. By contrast, texts independent from the SG dossier and dealing with clusters of more than two šannānū-towns, and without mention of any Mukiš-town, are: AT 162 and 284. As for the documents related to the recruitment of the šannānū in the army, which are not completely independent from SG dossier, see the discussion below. A sure instance where Mukiš- and šannānū-towns occur in the very same administrative operation is the tablet AT 342, a list of livestock and men, involving Uniga (Mukištown) together with Tuḫul and Zauti (šannānū-towns). According to Niedorf (1998: 537) and Belmonte Marín (2001: 215), both Nurmanaše GAL and TUR are involved in AT 185 (ll. 27–28; see above): if so, granted a third Nurmanaše did not exist in Alalaḫ’s domain, AT 185 would attest another sure involvement of a single šannānū-town together with a cluster of 6 towns pertaining exclusively to the Mukiš district.

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Mukiš and šannānū Districts in the Light of the Census Lists The archives of Alalaḫ IV yielded one of the most valuable corpora of census lists of the whole Ancient Near East: few are comparable in terms of quantity of texts, uniformity of structure and degree of detail. Especially after full publishing by Dietrich and Loretz (1969a; 1970), this corpus received great attention in numerous studies devoted to social and demographic issues. Among them, the recent work by von Dassow (2008) is particularly exhaustive and systematic. Here, the examination of the census lists constitutes part of an extensive investigation of Alalaḫ’s society during the 15th century. 17 In this work, the author refined the classification of the census lists, already outlined by Dietrich and Loretz, clearly isolating two main subgroups of censuses, respectively labelled A and B (hereafter, group AVD and BVD): the first one listed adult male individuals, while the latter recorded households according to their heads, always adult males. In both groups, each list focused on a single town, and recorded the totality of the population responding to the aforementioned criteria and ranking within a selected series of social categories or classes. Moreover, based on prosopography and generational count, group AVD has been dated late in the reign of Niqmepa and group BVD earlier in his reign. Finally, another result of von Dassow’s analysis, which is very important for our purposes here, is that, despite the aforementioned differences in recording methods and chronological context, groups AVD and BVD contain comparable data about the social composition of the kingdom of Alalaḫ in the 15th century. Indeed, both series of censuses sort the enumerated people into four main classes: ḫupše (pl. ḫupšena; equivalent to the sum of purre and unuššuḫuli in group BVD), ḫaniaḫḫe (pl. ḫaniaḫḫena), eḫelle (pl. eḫellena) and mariyanni (pl. mariyannina; called ša narkabti, “(those) of the chariot”, in lists of group BVD). Although the meaning and composition of these classes are still under debate, evidence shows the ḫupšena and ḫaniaḫḫena constituted the bulk of the free rural population. On the other hand, the eḫellena were highly specialized craftsmen and the mariyannina comprised part of the “nobility”. What bearing do census lists and the information they provide have on the reconstruction of the territorial organization of the kingdom of Alalaḫ? Von Dassow proved that censuses of group BVD were designed for the aforementioned recruitment of the šannānū i.e. the “archers”, and, for this very reason, they are limited to the šannānū district, insofar as they involve only towns listed in AT 341 (SG dossier). Interestingly, on the other hand, texts of group AVD list inhabitants of many of the Mukiš-towns recorded in AT 343 (SG dossier) and of other localities not assigned to particular districts in extant sources. However, with the exception of Laṣṣi, šannānū-towns are not involved in censuses of group AVD. This distinct separation of the two sets of towns in censuses, which, in the case of group AVD, seem to be independent from the SG dossier, provides support for the interpretation of the Mukiš and šannānū districts as distinct units even beyond incidental needs of the administration. The case of the šannānū-town of Laṣṣi does not constitute a real exception, 17.  In particular, the results on the census lists summarized below are drawn from pp. 135–148, 152–171. Among previous studies, Serangeli 1978 is also important: here the main focus is on demography, but the author’s conclusions are partially affected by wrongly assuming that census lists recorded the whole of the male population of censused towns. Other important works on the society of Alalaḫ IV and on particular aspects of the census lists are Liverani 1975, Gaál 1978 and 1988.

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because in extant administrative records it is repeatedly involved together with remarkable clusters of Mukiš-towns: probably, this point reflected a factual halfway position of Laṣṣi between the districts šannānū and Mukiš. If we compare the sets of socio-demographic data from groups AVD and BVD respectively, when available for Mukiš and šannānū-towns, we obtain some interesting results. The following table represents the incidence of classes on the population sample of each censused town (average %; abbr. Av.) and on the total population sample (total %; abbr. Tot.): 18

It is immediately evident that the percentages of mariyannina and eḫellena recorded in šannānū-towns are much lower than those displayed for the Mukiš-towns. Yet, the validity of such a comparison could be questioned by a couple of arguments, namely because the groups of documents from which figures are drawn: a) Recorded socio-demographic data according to different criteria: in fact, census lists of group AVD enumerated individuals, while those of group BVD enumerated households. 18.  Some lists of group BVD record individuals under categories which can not be equated with any of the four main social classes ḫupše, ḫaniaḫḫe, eḫelle and mariyanni, then the corresponding figures are excluded from population samples to which incidence calculations refer. Also incomplete data are excluded from calculations: for example, the population recorded at Uniga and Irgilli, whose figures are partially lost, have not been considered. According to these criteria, the total sample reported in the last column is the sum of the following population numbers / town: group BVD / šannānū-towns 46 / Alawari + 51 / Ariante + 163 / Tuḫul + 43 / Zalaki + 63 / unknown šannānū-town (AT 198) + 49 / unknown šannānū-town (AT 200) = 415 group AVD / Mukiš-towns 75 / Alime + 35 / Intarawe + 57 / Irta + 27 / Kallazu + 34 / Mušunni + 86 / Ṣuḫaruwe = 314. The group BVD census of Tuḫul (AT 189) shows some discrepancies between the number of individuals listed and the subtotals and grand totals given by the scribe: I based my calculations on the list. Moreover, there are two names written on the right edge excluded from calculations here as they are not assigned to any social class (see Dietrich–Loretz 1970, 93–95 and von Dassow 2008, 155–159 with n. 47). It is important, finally, to remind that groups AVD and BVD adopt different recording criteria. Then, when comparing their sets of data, this proportion-type must be taken into account:

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b) Had different chronological settings, because about a generation elapsed between them. In particular, this last argument has been introduced by von Dassow, who explained the augmenting of mariyannina and eḫellena as an effect of the transformation in the terminology of social class designations attested between the two groups of census lists, reflecting a systematization of procedures for classifying and conscripting people 19. Nonetheless, the efficacy of both this argument and argument (a) is weakened by the data concerning the town Laṣṣi (second row in the table). Indeed, Laṣṣi is a šannānū-town, but, contrary to the other šannānū-towns, its census is preserved in a list of group AVD (AT 148): thus the data about Laṣṣi are consistent, in terms of both recording criteria and chronological setting, with those concerning the Mukiš-towns, censused in the lists of group AVD as well. Laṣṣi’s recorded population amounts to 99 individuals, a high figure in census lists, to date exceeded only by Tuḫul, in group BVD, and Uniga, in group AVD. 20 Yet, compared with their counterparts in the Mukiš-towns, mariyannina and eḫellena are still underrepresented in Laṣṣi, with proportions similar to those displayed by the other šannānū-towns, censused in the lists of group BVD. In short, however slender it is, extant evidence prompts us to believe in the overall comparisons outlined here, according to which the two groups Mukiš- and šannānū-towns differed from each other in terms of their social composition: the mariyanni and eḫelle classes were, proportionally, much more represented in the former than in the latter. How may we interpret such dissimilarities in the social composition? As already mentioned, the mariyannina enjoyed a high position in the state hierarchy, often very close to the royal court, and membership to this class was obtained only by inheritance or direct intervention of the king’s authority. Most of the eḫellena, on the other hand, were specialized professionals in service of royal officers or even the king himself. 21 Hypothetically, the nature of such positions means that members of these two classes had tight contacts with the royal administration or, as many known mariyannina, were even part of it. 22 Therefore, the quantitative relevance of eḫellena or mariyanni in a given place might be used as a kind of “thermometer”, measuring the degree of integration of that place into the pattern of relationships and contacts between local communities and the central authority, which I may call here, in short, “network of centre-periphery interaction”. In such terms, places where mariyannina and eḫellena were underrepresented likely enjoyed a lesser degree of integration into the network of centre-periphery interaction. In conclusion, interpreting the evidence of the SG dossier, combined with the data derived from the census lists, I would suggest that centres falling within Alalaḫ’s domain were unevenly integrated into its network of centre-periphery interaction: those 19.  See von Dassow 2008, 227 and 318–319, in which she also points out promotions from lower to upper classes are attested in the time elapsed between groups BVD and AVD. 20.  See tablets AT 189 and 153 respectively. The latter is very fragmentary and the town name is not preserved (Dietrich–Loretz 1969a: 78), but von Dassow (2008: 144–145) restored it on the basis of many homonymies found with inhabitants of Uniga recorded in AT 220, a list of carpenters, and Dietrich–Loretz 1969b nr. 4, cadaster of Uniga. 21.  See von Dassow’s discussion on the mariyanni and eḫelle classes at Alalaḫ, with further reference to previous literature (2008: 268–334). 22.  For the participation of mariyannina in the royal court and administration, see von Dassow 2008, pp. 283ff.

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pertaining to the Mukiš district were more integrated, whereas those pertaining to the šannānu district less so.

Mukiš and šannānū Districts in the Light of Other Textual Sources The conjectural reconstruction proposed so far is difficult to prove with any certainty, but cross referencing this data with other textual sources provides ancillary evidence. A survey on the Alalaḫ IV corpus, addressed to other textual occurrences of the relevant place names, shows that clusters of more than two towns attributable to the šannānū district are not much involved in administrative operations other than the SG dossier, census lists of group BVD and šannānū rosters, which are all documents somehow linked with each other and parts of a more complex operation related to the military organization. Apart from that, in fact, one may quote only AT 162, a list of personnel, and AT 284, a ration list. 23 On the contrary, we find involvement of substantial clusters of towns attributable to the Mukiš district in many kinds of administrative operations, recorded in a wide variety of texts, from ration lists to cadastres, from records of revenues and dispatching of horses to lists of personnel and, finally, as we have seen, in census lists of group AVD. 24 Moreover, however isolated it is, a coherent group of texts (AT 300–301) shows the ḫazannu (“mayor”) of the Mukiš-town Uniga playing a pivotal role in a complex and somehow hierarchical system of collection and distribution of rations, involving many other towns, among which is Alalaḫ itself and another Mukiš-town, Irgilli. 25 In sum, both the number and quality of administrative texts involving clusters of towns attributable to the Mukiš district show them to be closely integrated within the Alalaḫ network of centre-periphery interaction, to a much higher degree than those of the šannānū district, whose town clusters are almost exclusively dealt with in documents related to the military and warfare. There is also some textual evidence showing that Alalaḫ rulers might happen to have some difficulties in preserving their political control over towns of the šannānū district. I am referring to the juridical record AT 14. The tablet is broken in some parts, but extant passages allow us to fully understand its context. The translation provided below is drawn from the recent full edition by Niedorf (2008: 245–247): Before Sauštatar, the king. Niqmepa brought [a process] against Šunaššura because of the town Alawari 5–9 [and he won in the pr]ocess, (so) the [t]own Alawari [retur]ned [to Niqmepa. . .].[. . . the place . . .]x-awe [. . .]. Rev.  (Seal caption:) Šuttarna, son of Kirta, king of Mittani. Obv. 1–4

As clearly stated, AT 14 records a lawsuit brought before the Mittanian king Sauštatar, overlord of Alalaḫ, whose disputants are the king of Alalaḫ, Niqmepa, and a Šunaššura, generally equated with the namesake king of Kizzuwatna. 26 The contended issue is the jurisdiction over a town, which, evidently, enjoyed an am23.  For AT 162, see the edition by von Dassow (2002: 859–865). For AT 284, see Wiseman 1959, 50. 24.  For textual references, see above, n. 16. 25.  For these texts, see the edition by Wiseman (1959: 54–55). 26. This, in fact, would be the same Šunaššura, king of Kizzuwatna, who signed a well-known treaty with Tutḫaliya I of Hatti (CTH 41). See Beal 1986; Wilhelm 1988 and Klengel 1999, 106, 112–113. As was the custom in Alalaḫ IV documents somehow involving the superior authority of Mittani, the kings of Alalaḫ or other subordinate rulers do not bear royal titles, reserved only for the overlord (see, for example, AT 3, 13, 110, 111, 112). An exception is constituted by the aforementioned AT 2, the treaty

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biguous position, close to the political boundary between the two states. Although finally attesting his success in asserting his own political control over the contended town, the lawsuit AT 14, by the fact itself that it was filed, well shows Niqmepa’s potential weakness in the matter. Now, AT 14 incidentally provides direct support for our interpretation of the šannānū district as a sector less integrated within the network of centre-periphery interaction: in fact, the town here disputed by the two states, and, as such, likely to be moved from a jurisdiction to the other, is Alawari, which appears right among the šannānū-towns listed in the tablet AT 341 (l. 17). Beside Alawari, there is another šannānū-town which might well have been close to the boundaries of the kingdom, at least in a more strictly geographical sense. However, hints of it seem to come from a document which dates to a century later than the Alalaḫ IV archives. Indeed, a town Gaduma, likely to be equated with the šannānū-town Katume, is mentioned in relation to the land of Mukiš in the Hittite text KUB 19.27,6′–7′ (CTH 50), a section of an agreement between Šuppiluliuma I and his son Šarri-Kušuḫ of Karkemiš. 27 The text is poorly preserved, but its general context accounts for a description of the western borders of the kingdom of Karkemiš at the beginning of the Hittite imperial period. By the time KUB 19.27 was composed, the land of Mukiš referred to in l. 7′ was a Hittite province, but we do not know to what extent it respected the former borders of the 15th century kingdom, conquered by Šuppiluliuma I. 28 In any case, whatever the dimensions of the Hittite province of Mukiš were, the balance of the geo-political system sponsored by the Hittites in Syria during the imperial period required the borders of Karkemiš to be kept well away from Aleppo, where another son of Šuppiluliuma I, Telipinu, was appointed as king. This means that the shared border between Mukiš and Karkemiš should be located further north, somewhere around the upper stream of modern ʿAfrin river, an area rather distant from the core of the Alalaḫ realm during the 15th century. 29

The Territorial Organization of the Alalaḫ Realm During Level IV: A Final Balance Stemming from the discussion of sources proposed above, we may summarize with the following model the territorial organization of the kingdom of Alalaḫ IV. During Niqmepa’s reign, centres falling within Alalaḫ’s domain were unevenly where, even though the Mittanian overlord seems to be recalled in a fragmentary passage (ll. 72–74), both Niqmepa and his partner, Ir-Teššub of Tunip, display royal titles. 27. See Klengel 1999, 137 and Klengel 2001, 191; Singer 2001, 635. The town Gaduma is also mentioned twice in the Hittite fragmentary letter KBo 9.83 (Hagenbuchner 1989 nr. 34), sent to the king of Hatti by a Tutḫaliya who Niedorf (2002: 522–523) identifies with the namesake governor of Mukiš. Likely the same governor is the addressee of a letter from the Hittite king (ATT 35) and is depicted in an orthostat with anatolian hieroglyphic inscription (Woolley 1955: 241, Pl. XLVIII), both artifacts found in later levels (II-I) of Alalaḫ. For the attestations of Katume/Gatuma, see del Monte–Tischler 1978, s.v. “Katuma”, and Belmonte Marín 2001, s.v. “Qad(u)mu”. 28.  Some modifications occurred, if one accepts the common equations of the towns Zazaḫaruwa and Bituḫulibe, quoted as Ugaritic cities in the border description of the treaty Muršili II–Niqmepa of Ugarit (RS 17.62+: ll. 3,7), with Ṣuḫaruwe and Bitḫiluwe, towns pertaining to Alalaḫ’s domain in the 15th century (the former also attested among the Mukiš-towns!). However, such identifications have been recently questioned by van Soldt (2005: 51, 57, 149–152). 29.  In this sense, the identification of Katume/Gaduma with modern Qāṭima/Qaṭmā, 9 km west of c Azaz (Bunnens–Kuschke–Röllig 1990), is more likely than Astour’s (1963: 237, n. 151) with Qādimīyah, 18 km south-east of Aleppo.

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integrated into its network of centre-periphery interaction: there was the capital, Alalaḫ, seat of kingship and the royal administration, and a geo-political core, steadily integrated within the network. In a particular moment, as set out in the SG dossier, at least part of the geo-political core was reorganized and institutionalised as a territorial district, called Mukiš, which significantly was the very same name used in other contexts to indicate by metonymy the whole kingdom. Between the capital and the towns situated within the core, relationships were stable and relied upon a wide range of hierarchical interaction, able to satisfy any economic, political or military needs of the state. In addition to this political unit of the capital and core, however, there were localities which, despite being directly ruled by the state, were less integrated into the network of centre-periphery interaction and could prove more troublesome in the capital’s exertion of control. The situation of these localities had direct effects on their social composition, insofar as social classes signalling tighter interaction with the central authority, eḫelle and mariyanni, were underrepresented in their population. Moreover, in some cases, lesser integration of some localities into the Alalaḫ network of centre-periphery interaction might have prompted neighbouring states to claim jurisdiction over them, forcing Alalaḫ kings to resort to international lawsuits. Apparently, less integrated towns were mostly involved in the types of interactions aimed primarily at satisfying military needs of the state. This implies, again, institutionalisation: some towns, in fact, were exploited as bases for recruiting troops of “archers”, šannānū in the Akkadian of Alalaḫ, causing them to be grouped by the administration to form another district, that of the šannānū. From a politico-geographical point of view, the šannānū district was to some degree different from the other two, Alalaḫ (capital) and Mukiš (geo-political core), and there is some evidence, as we have seen with AT 14 and KUB 19.27, that some of its towns were situated near the boundaries of the kingdom or, at least, far away from its centre. Thus, I may conclude that the division in the Mukiš and šannānū districts generally reflected a territorial model of integrated core and dispersed periphery. Such a model finds support in the archaeological landscape of Alalaḫ/Tell Açana environs. Indeed, in the Amuq plain, where Alalaḫ/Tell Açana itself is located, there is a pattern of generally dense and apparently hierarchical 2nd millennium settlements, the number of which however, does not encompass all the towns attested in written sources which are supposed to pertain to Alalaḫ’s domain during the 15th century: the Amuq plain would be the likely location of the Mukiš district and, obviously, the district of Alalaḫ, but not much more, except possibly other towns which are not explicitly assigned to one these districts in extant sources. On the contrary, more dispersed 2nd millennium occupation is found in more distant localities, like the cAfrin valley, the Orontes delta and the highlands: assuming that these areas were under Alalaḫ control during the 15th century, it is there that we might likely place the šannānū-towns. 30 Nonetheless, boundaries between the Mukiš and šannānū districts were not clear-cut and a certain intermingling subsisted, as suggested by some overlapping displayed by the textual evidence. 30.  The Amuq archaeological landscape in all phases is treated in Braidwood 1937 and, recently, Casana–Wilkinson 2005 and Casana 2007, with further bibliography. For a full discussion limited to the Amuq valley during the LBA, with references also to written sources from Alalaḫ IV, see Casana 2009, with further bibliography. Note that some of the latter’s conclusions (pp. 25–26), which are less detailed concerning documentary evidence and starting from a different point of view, are similar to those drawn here.

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Finally, sources discussed in this paper mention a fourth district, where another army corps, besides that of the šannānū, was recruited: the ḫapirū district. However, the characteristics of this district and its towns, restored indirectly on the basis of other documents, are not easily detectable due to the fragmentary status of the related documentation. On the basis of extant sources, a tentative proposal sees the ḫapirū-towns as geographically scattered and interspersed to a high degree with those of other districts.

One Region, Two Kingdoms: The Emergence of a Different “Territoriality” in Alalaḫ Domain between Levels VII and IV The interpretation given so far leaves open issues concerning the diachronic dynamics, normally occurring in the formation, conservation and modification of geo-political interactions within a state and, possibly, its followers in the same territory. To address such issues effectively, it would be interesting to briefly compare the results hitherto obtained on the state of Alalaḫ during level IV, with the forms of territorial administration evidenced by the documents relating to a previous phase of this capital, which also yields considerable archives: that of level VII, corresponding to Yamḫad’s domination during the Old Babylonian period. There are several works devoted to the territorial organization of Alalaḫ domain during level VII, so, for further details, reference is made to them. 31 As we have seen, during level IV, centres falling within Alalaḫ’s domain were unevenly integrated into its network of centre-periphery interaction, and such unevenness was probably consistent with the kind of political relationships the subordinate centres and central authority had with each other. This situation is reflected in extant administrative practices by subdivisions in districts, census lists and troop rosters. Although a full evaluation of the context of level VII is complicated by frequent interventions of the kings of Yamḫad in Alalaḫ’s internal affairs, extant evidence shows that also in this case there was a degree of unevenness into the network of centre-periphery interaction, again depending on the kind of relationships subordinate centres and central authority had with each other. Apparently, however, such relationships were not really political, as in the case of Alalaḫ IV, rather they were determined by land ownership: in fact, many of the contracts from Alalaḫ VII record the kings themselves purchasing entire settlements (ālū) and their surrounding countryside (eperu), while a substantial group of administrative texts is constituted by rations (Zeeb’s “Getreidelieferlisten”), mostly addressed to people working within the properties of the rulers. 32 Thus, it seems apparent that, while in level IV the efforts of the central authority were mostly aimed at a political control over the population, which was in fact also the ultimate goal of the census lists, in level VII, on the contrary, rulers were more interested in an economic control over land. This fact had direct consequences on the 31.  See in particular: Magness–Gardiner 1994, Klengel 1979 and Gaál 1982–1984, where written sources concerning each of the Alalaḫ VII toponyms are examined. For an extensive evaluation of the texts relating to the economic system of Alalaḫ during level VII, see Zeeb 2001. A full study of the Alalaḫ VII archives in their archaeological context, with some consideration on the palatial economic system, is given by Lauinger 2007. All attestations of geographical names in texts of Alalaḫ VII are listed and indexed in Zeeb 1998. 32.  See Zeeb 2001.

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territoriality of the kingdom, insofar as settlements were purchased by the rulers of Alalaḫ VII apparently without regard for territorial continuity. This seems to have been so since the very foundation of Alalaḫ VII kingdom, as suggested by AT 456, a treaty where the domain assigned by Abban of Yamḫad to Yarim-Lim is defined by a mere list of towns, besides Alalaḫ itself. 33 Therefore, not by chance, in texts of level VII a territorial definition meant to denote the whole kingdom of Alalaḫ did not exist. On the contrary, as we have seen, in Alalaḫ IV such territorial definition was well represented by mātu Mukiš. In other words, it could be said that, in the 15th century, during level IV, a stronger “awareness of territoriality” emerged at Alalaḫ, which did not yet exist in the 17th century, during level VII. Yet, such an “awareness” was still ideological and not completely translated into reality, in that, even during level IV, the state was far from being a Westphalian territorial unit, with clear-cut boundaries: as we have seen, in fact, even during the reign of Niqmepa, the very “king of Alalaḫ and Mukiš”, territorial disputes with other states did not concern frontiers but individual towns. 33.  By contrast, one could compare AT 456 with some functionally similar texts, from a different context: the treaties with Tarḫuntassa of the Hittite Imperial period (KBo 4.10+: van den Hout 1995; Bronze Tablet: Otten 1988). In these cases, in fact, the territory of Tarḫuntassa, which was to Hatti nearly as Alalaḫ was to Yamḫad, is explicitly defined first by linear boundaries (e.g. Bronze Tablet §§ 5–8) and only afterwards by individual localities within it (see Bronze Tablet § 9).

References Astour, M. C. 1963 Place-Names from the Kingdom of Alalaḫ in the North Syrian List of Thutmose III: A Study in Political Geography of the Amarna Age. JNES 22: 220–241. Beal, R. H. 1986 The History of Kizzuwatna and the Date of the Šunaššura Treaty. Or NS 55: 424–445. Belmonte Marín, J. A. 2001 Die Orts- und Gewässernamen der Texte aus Syrien im 2. Jt. v. Chr. RGTC 12/2. Wiesbaden: Dr. Ludwig Reichert Verlag. Bottéro, J. 1954 Le problème des Habiru à la 4e Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale. Cahiers de la Société Asiatique 12. Paris: Imprimerie nationale. 1980 Entre nomades et sédentaires: Les Ḫabiru. Dialogues d’histoire ancienne 6: 201–213. Braidwood, R. J. 1937 Mounds in the Plain of Antioch. OIP 48. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press. Braidwood, R. J., and Braidwood, L. S. 1960 Excavations in the Plain of Antioch Volume 1: The Early Assemblages, Phases A-J. OIP 61. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press. Bunnens, G., Kuschke, A., and Röllig, W. 1990 Palästina und Syrien zur Zeit der ägyptisch-hethitischen Vorherrschaft. In TAVO Karten B III 3. Wiesbaden: Dr. Ludwig Reichert Verlag. Casana, J. 2007 Structural Transformations in Settlement Systems of the Northern Levant. AJA 111: 195–221. 2009 Alalakh and the Archaeological Landscape of Mukish: The Political Geography and Population of a Late Bronze Age Kingdom. BASOR 353: 7–37. Casana, J., and Wilkinson, T. 2005 Settlement and Lanscapes in the Amuq Region. Pp. 25–45 in Yener 2005.

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del Monte, G. F., and Tischler J. 1978 Die Orts- und Gewässernamen der hethitischen Texte. RGTC 6. Wiesbaden: Dr. Ludwig Reichert Verlag. Dietrich, M. and Loretz, O. 1969a Die soziale Struktur von Alalaḫ und Ugarit, II.  Die sozialen Gruppen ḫupše-namê, ḫaniaḫḫe-ekû, eḫelle-šūzubu, und marjanne nach Textes aus Alalaḫ. WO 5: 57–93. 1969b Die soziale Struktur von Alalaḫ und Ugarit, V. Die Wiengarten des Gebietes von Alalaḫ im 15. Jahrhundert. UF 1: 37–64. 1970 Die soziale Struktur von Alalaḫ und Ugarit, IV.  Die É=bitu-Listen aus Alalaḫ IV als Quelle für die Erforshung der gesellschaftlichen Schichtung von Alalaḫ im 15. Jh. v. Chr. ZA 60: 88–123. 1997 Der Vertrag zwischen Ir-Addu von Tunip und Niqmepa von Mukiš. Pp. 211–242 in Crossing Boundaries and Linking Horizons: Studies in Honor of Michael C. Astour on His 80th Birthday. Edited by G.  D. Young, Chavalas, M.  W. and Averback, R.E.  Bethesda, MD: CDL Press. 2009 Ugaritisch ṯnn “(Komposit-)Bogenschütze”, qšt “Kompositbogen”, “Bogen” und qs’t/hz “Pfeil”. UF 41: 51–64. Durand, J.-M. 2011 La fondation d’une lignée royale syrienne: La geste d’Idrimi d’Alalah. Pp. 94–150 in Le jeune héros: Recherches sur la formation et la diffusion d’un thème littéraire au ProcheOrient ancien (OBO 250). Edited by J.-M. Durand, Römer, Th. and Laglois M. Göttingen: Academic Press Fribourg, Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Gaál, E. 1978 pūrum Lands and Houses in Alalaḫ. Oikumene 2: 145–148. 1982–84  State and Private Sectors in Alalaḫ VII.  Acta Antiqua Academiae Scientiarum Hungaricae 30: 1–44. 1988 The Social Structure of Alalaḫ. Pp. 99–110 in Society and Economy in the Eastern Mediterranean (c. 1500–1000 B.C.). OLA 23. Edited by M. Heltzer and E. Lipinski. Leuven: Peeters. Greenberg, M. 1955 The Ḫab/piru. American Oriental Series, vol. 39. New Haven: American Oriental Society. Hagenbuchner, A. 1989 Die Korrespondenz der Hethiter. 2. Teil: Die Briefe mit Transkription, Übersetzung und Kommentar. THeth. 16. Heidelberg: Carl Winter–Universitätsverlag. Hoch, J. E. 1994 Semitic Words in Egyptian Texts of the New Kingdom and Third Intermediate Period. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Klengel, H. Geschichte Syriens im 2. Jahrtausend v.u.Z. 3 vols. Berlin: Akademie Verlag. 1965–70 1979 Die Palastwirtschaft in Alalaḫ. Pp. 435–457 in State and Temple Economy in the Ancient Near East. Vol. 2. OLA 6. Edited by E. Lipinski. Leuven: Department Orientalistik. 1999 Geschichte des hethitischen Reiches. HdO 1/34. Leiden/Boston/Köln: Brill. 2001 Nochmals zur Rolle der Herrscher von Ḫalab und Karkamiš in der hethitischen Großreichzeit. Pp. 191–208 in Kulturgeschichten. Altorientalistische Studien für Volkert Haas zum 65. Geburtstag. Edited by Th. Richter, D.  Prechel and Jörg Klinger. Saarbrücken: Saarbrücker Druckerei und Verlag. Lauinger, J. 2007 Archival Practices at Old Babylonian/Middle Bronze Age Alalakh (Level VII). 2 vols. Ph.D. dissertation. University of Chicago. Liverani, Mario 1975 Communautés de village et palais royal dans la Syrie du IIème millénaire. JESHO 18: 146–164. Magness-Gardiner, B. 1994 Urban-Rural Relations in Bronze Age Syria: Evidence from Alalaḫ Level VII Palace Archives. Pp. 37–47 in Archaeological Views from the Country Side. Village Communities

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Reciprocity and Commerce in Bronze and Iron Age Anatolia H. Craig Melchert Los Angeles

The impetus for the following discussion is the existence of a family of words in second- and first-millennium Luvian whose members seem semantically incompatible. Some have religious connotations, while others occur in commercial contexts. For example, the Cuneiform and Hieroglyphic Luvian adjective /washaiya-/ shows a sense ‘consecrated, dedicated’, used in examples (1) and (2) of ritual objects and cult personnel:

(1)  KBo 7.68 ii 2–12 (text Starke 1985: 361–2, but restorations mine-HCM) tīrana wašḫa[iya . . .]KI.MIN GIŠtalān=za K[I.MIN šarra] wašḫa ānnan=ḫa wa[šḫa] § pa=ti(y)=aš aduna aša[r? ] GIŠwaššanza wašḫaiyan=za NINDAḫa-x[ ] wašḫaīš NINDAtannaša wašḫaiya [—] NINDA-iš wašḫaīš GIŠzappalālla KI.MIN DUG u-x[ ]x-iš KI.MIN paršul=za KI.MIN gu[r?- ]x-ašu KI.MIN maddu KI.MIN [ -]iš KI.MIN LÚNINDA.DÙ.DÙ-aš KI.MIN [LÚSAG]I-iš KI.MIN LÚŠÀ.TAM-aš KI.MIN GIŠ

“The t. are consecrated. [The __ ] likewise. The t. likewise. [Above] are consecrated things, and also below are conse[crated things.] § He/She s[its down?] to eat. 1 The table is consecrated. The h-bread is consecrated. The t-breads are consecrated. The bread is consecrated. The z. likewise. . .The morsel likewise. . .The wine likewise. . .The baker likewise. The drink-server likewise. The chamberlain likewise.’

(2)  BABYLON 2 (text Hawkins 2000: 395–6; interpretation mine-HCM) á-mu-pa-wa/i-tu (“*419”)wa/i-sa-ha-i-za ku+ra/i-i-sà( )ka-tara/i-hi-ha i-zi-i-ha ‘And for him (Tarhunt) I made (a) consecrated k. (and) k.’

The same adjective is also used in Cuneiform Luvian as the epithet of a tutelary deity (but notably not of any other deity). I therefore interpret it as ‘patron’ (i.e., dedicated to an individual person): [. . .AN]A dLAMMA wašḫai ‘to the patron tutelary deity’ (KBo 34.186:5′) and wašḫaī[š dLAMMA] (KBo 12.100 Ro 13). See for the texts Starke 1985: 211 and 244 and further below. Likewise the CLuvian adjective wašḫazza- means ‘patron’, referring to a tutelary deity: 1.  For the reading and restoration of ašar ‘sits down’ see now Oettinger 2011.

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(3)  KBo 35.107 (+) 108 iii 10 (text and reading with Starke 1985: 238) Taurišizzaš wašḫazzaš dLAMMA-aš dUTU-tī dātī tarkumī[ta]

URU

“The patron tutelary deity of Taurisa reported to the father Sun-god.”

See likewise KUB 25.37 i 7 (1 UDU ANA dLAMMA wašḫazza “one sheep for the patron tutelary deity”) and KBo 21.54:9,10,21. The direct Lycian cognate wasaza(TL 38,7) is a professional title and thus refers to a kind of priest, that is, somone ‘sacralized, consecrated’ (Melchert 2004a: 78). The CLuvian noun wašḫa- (which is clearly the base of the preceding adjectives) also means ‘consecrated things, sacra’. See in a positive sense the expression [šarra] wašḫa ānnan=ḫa wa[šḫa] “[Above] are consecrated things, and also below are con[secrated things]” in example (1) cited above. We find the same noun also in the negative sense of sacra:

(4)  KUB 35.54 ii 27– 41 (text after Starke 1985: 67    except for the reading NU[MUN].Ḫ[I.A]) [ ]KÙ.BABBAR GUŠKIN NU[MUN].Ḫ[I.A?] ḫūman [GIŠḫaḫ]ran GIŠmuwilan GIŠ intaluzi [ ]x GIŠtiddutri katt[a] ḫikzi n=ašta anda kiššan memai § zāwi ziyar NUMUN.ḪI.A-na [p]ūnāta inzagān wašḫa a=(a)ta [BE]L SÍSKUR GIŠḫattarāti ḫatta[r]itta GIŠtūrāti=pa=(a)ta tūr[ā]tta a=(a)ta imrašša dIŠKUR-u[nt]i pari tarāwītta § a=(a)ta piyatta imma[r]aššan dIŠKUR-ti a=(a)ta zappatta attu[w] al=za utar=ša [ḫal]liš=ša a=(a)ta ā[pp]a DINGIR.MEŠ-anza ŠA EN SÍSKUR parran ni[š] §awiti (Hittite) “He offers downward [ ] silver, gold, all the seeds, a rake, a m., a shovel, [. . .], (and) a t. and interjects as follows (Luvian): ‘Here are laid down all the seeds, the inhumations, the sacra. The ritual client has hoed them with the hoe, while he has speared them with the spear. He has handed them over to the Stormgod of the open country. He has given them to the Storm-god of the open country. He has z-ed them-the evil word and the illness. Let them not come back before the gods of the ritual client’.”

For the negative sense of wašḫa ‘sacra’ referring to the seeds symbolizing evils that are to be relegated to the divine sphere and thus made taboo for humans see Benveniste 1969: 2.187ff. on Latin sacer and Watkins 1975a on Hittite šuppi-. On the other hand, the HLuvian noun (*419/*420)washa- refers to commercial transactions:

(5)  KARKAMIŠ A4a §§1– 4 and §11 (text Hawkins 2000: 152,    including restorations) §1 [za-ya]-wa/i [DOMUS]-na [. . .. . .]x-sa-´ [(INFANS)]ní-za-a-sa ka-ma-ni-ya REX-ti CUM-ni ARHA (CONTRACTUS)DARE-ta §2 ka-ma-ni-sa-pa-wa/i+ra/i PRAE-ri+i-SARMA-ma-ya-´ FRATER-la-sa-na |(INFANS)ni-za-´ pa-pi-tà-ti-sà-na-´ INFANS.NEPOS CUM-ni ARHA (CONTRACTUS)DARE-ta §3 |wa/i-tu-u 20+2[+?] (“SCALPRUM[”)ma-na-zi ARGENTUM-za DARE-mi-na] §4 [wa/i-tu-u PANIS.PI]THOS-[li]-za i-zi-ya-mi-na . . . §11 (“PANIS.PITHOS”)á-za-li-sa-pa-wa/i DOMINUS-na-ní “*419”-sa-ha-sá-´ DAREmi-na

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“[These hou]ses [X, Y’s] son, sold to Kamani the King, and Kamani sold them to Parisarma (his) brother’s son, grandson of Papidati. To him 22(?) m[inas of silver are to be given(?)], and [for him a] a feast is to be made. . .A meal is to be given to the owner for the washa.” (less likely: “to the lord of the washa”)

On the terminology for buying and selling see Hawkins and Morpurgo Davies 1982, but for the verbal forms in -mi-na as gerundives see Melchert 2004b. For the restorations and the provision of a feast for the seller see CEKKE §§6–11 (Hawkins 2000: 145).

(6)  ASSUR letter f+g §§27–28 (text after Hawkins 2000: 537) §27 |á-pi-ha-wa/i-za |(*420)wa/i-sa-ha-sa |REL-za |VIA-wa/i-ni-ta §28 |wa/i-za |á-pi 4-zi-i |ka-max+ra/i-zi |i-sa-u-ta “Furthermore, what did they send us of the washa-? They bought another(?) four k’s for us.” (literally “again four”)

(7)  TÜNP 1 (text after Hawkins 2000: 155) §1 [. . .. . .]ara/i-FRATER-la-ya CUM-ni sà-ta-ti-wa/i+ra/i-sa-na (“TERRA”)ta-sàREL+ra/i-na CUM-ni (“CONTRACTUS”)i-ya-sá-ta §2 a-wa/i (“SCALPRUM”)á-su-sa ARHA (“CAPUT+SCALPRUM”)ku-sà-mi-na. . . §5 (“PES2”)tara/i-pi+ra/i-pa-wa/i REL-sà §6 |wa/i-´ 1 “ARGENTUM”-sa 1 (“SCALPRUM”)ma-na-sa |1 (“SCALPRUM”)mana-sa-ha-na (“*419”)wa/i-sa-ha-sa “[X ] bought the land from Aralani(?), son of Santatiwari. The (boundary) stone is to be effaced. . .He who shall oppose, one ARGENTUM-unit, one mina, and one manas(a)ha-unit is the washa.”

See for the interpretation of the passage in (7) in addition to Hawkins 2000: 155–56 also Yakubovich 2010 and Giusfredi 2010: 264–66. That there is no connection between the HLuvian and CLuvian words wašḫa(thus Giusfredi 2010: 232) is extremely unlikely. Nor is a sense ‘fine, financial punishment’ (Giusfredi loc. cit.) plausible for examples (5) and (6). These call for ‘purchase, sale’ or the like and connection with the root of Hittite waš- ‘buy’ and ušne-/ušniya- ‘sell’, as per Hawkins and Morpurgo Davies (1982: 1009), who also allow for a sense ‘fine’. Giusfredi’s formal analysis, an animate action noun in -šḫa-, is surely correct (CLuvian wašḫa can easily be the collective nominative-accusative plural to such an animate stem). The terms for ‘buying’ and ‘selling’ are renewed in HLuvian: see Hawkins and Morpurgo Davies 1982 for (CUM-ni arha) piya- ‘sell’ (a specialized use of piya- ‘give’) and CUM-ni ijasa- ‘buy (from)’ (but for the source of ija(sa)- and Lycian ije- ‘buy’ < PIE *ai- ‘give/receive’ see Melchert 1989: 42–5 contra Hawkins and Morpurgo Davies 1982: 101–4). However, the root *wes- in a commercial sense is reflected in unattalla- ‘merchant’ (a hapax legomenon in the Hittite Laws §5 for ‘merchant’, spelled ú-na-at-tal-la-an). Derivation of this word from Hittite u-un-ni/a- ‘to drive’ with an initial vowel spelled with the sign u and a geminate -nn- is semantically dubious and phonologically impossible (see the correct remarks of Kloekhorst 2008: 917). I propose that ú-na-at-tal-la- is rather a loanword from Luvian with the regular outcome of *usna- < *us-no- or syncopated *we/os-no-. For loss of *s before *n in Luvian compare Luvian /ta:na-/ ‘sanctified, inviolable’ < *dh(e)h1s-no- (Melchert

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1997: 49). Therefore Luvian did inherit the root wes- in the sense ‘buy/sell’, and the commercial sense of HLuvian /washa-/ (< *was-sha-) is perfectly in order. PIE *wes- clearly referred to both buying and selling: see especially Benveniste 1969: 1.125–8 and Watkins 1975b: 100–7, the latter elucidating the prehistory of Latin uēnum dare ‘to sell’ and uēnum īre ‘to be sold’ and cognate phrases in Greek and Sanskrit. This duality is clearly continued in Hittite waš- ‘to buy’ vs. ušne-/ ušniya- ‘to offer for sale’. Contra Szemerényi (1979: 122) the Hittite and Luvian reflexes show that the root *wes- was not restricted to the sense ‘to buy’ already in PIE (which is also belied by Iranian reflexes he cites 1979: 120–21). See further Mallory and Adams 1997: 184–86 and 224–25 with references. The question remains: how are we to reconcile these facts with the religious connotations of CLuvian wašḫa- and the pan-Luvian adjective /washaiya-/? I believe the answer lies in the fact established by Benveniste (1951): in Proto-Indo-European society giving and receiving were regarded as part of a single process of reciprocal exchange. This notion permeated PIE society, including the relationship of host and guest, of poet and patron, and of humans and gods (the principle of do ut des). We know that there was no hesitation on the part of the Hittites to invoke the mutual dependence of humans and gods (see Singer 2002: 40 on the prayer of Arnuwanda and Ašmunikal and ibid. 48 on the plague prayers of Mursili). I therefore propose that PIE *wes- originally meant ‘to pledge in exchange’, referring to both parts of any reciprocal exchange: (1) of commodities between people, (2) of people and things dedicated to gods and of a deity dedicated to a person, (3) of a fine or penalty given in exchange for release from debt. All three senses persisted into pre-Luvian, to which was added a new commercial sense, reflecting the exchange of a commodity for a recognized medium of exchange (precious metal). 2 The Luvian adjective /washaiya-/ became specialized in the religious sphere, while the base noun /washa-/ was apparently preserved in the same meaning in CLuvian, but evolved to have a commercial sense in HLuvian (recall again the prehistoric presence of such a use for *wes- in Luvian in unattalla- ‘merchant’). The sense of ‘pledged to’ used of persons is likely also reflected in female personal names with second members -wašḫa/i- and -wašti- (see Zehnder 2010: 97–8). This is clearest in the latter type with inflected first members in the dative (thus contra Zehnder): fTāti-wašti ‘a pledge/gift to the father’, HLuvian /Tarhunti-wasti/ ‘a pledge/gift to Tarhunt’ (MARAŞ 2,§1), fḪani-wašti ‘a pledge/gift to Hani’. The simplex name fWašti either means simply ‘gift’ or is a “Kurzname” back-formed from a compound. The nominal stem wašti- represents an action noun *wés-ti- ‘pledging’, concretized to ‘the thing pledged’. Likewise then also fĀššui-wašḫa- represents ‘a pledge to the a-stone’ (like Hittite ḫuwaši-, Luvian /a:ssu‑/ likely meant ‘cult stone’ as well as ‘boundary stone’), fLalanti-wašḫa- ‘a pledge to Lalanta (city-name)’, fMalia-wašḫi- ‘a pledge to (the goddess) Maliya’ (rather than ‘a gift from M.’), and so forth. 2.  The question of just when and where various sets of Indo-European speakers learned and adopted the ways of commerce (buying and selling in the modern sense) is a topic beyond the scope of this essay. Undoubtedly, this was not a one-time event, and the answer differs for different sets of prehistoric speakers. I insist only that at the earliest PIE stage the underlying notion was one of mutual exchange of persons, goods, and services in a pre-commercial society. I again refer the reader to Benveniste 1951, the relevant portions of Benveniste 1969, and Mallory and Adams 1997: 184–6.

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The restriction of wašḫa- and *wašti- to female names may not be coincidental. According to a new suggestion of Pinault (2011), PIE *wes- was also used to refer to mutual exchange as part of marriage: Greek ὄαρ ‘wife’ (neuter!) by this analysis reflects *wós-ṛ, *wés-n- (the latter the source of *wé/ós-n-o- cited above), against the semantically implausible derivation from *swós-ṛ by Janda (1999). The wife would be the thing pledged in exchange (HCM). For early Indo-European marriage as yet another instances of exchange see the Sanskrit passages with ména-*‘exchange’ and ‘concubine’ in Hoffmann 1960 cited by Pinault. There are also traces of an older non-commercial sense ‘to pledge, match’ (on a balance scale) for Hittite ušneške-:

(8)  KUB 21.27 iv 38– 42 (Prayer of Puduhepa, NH) Ḫattušili[šš]=a ARAD=KA ANA ZI DINGIR-LIM šer dariyat nu=za apē[l] SAG. DU-an ZI=ŠU=ya uššanišket kuitman [ŠA DINGI]R-LIM EN=YA URUNeriqqan āššiyant[an UR]U-an EGIR-pa wetet

m

“Also Hattusili, your servant, has exerted himself for the god’s will and pledged his body and soul, until he rebuilt Nerik, beloved city of the god, my lord.”

Singer (2002: 105) renders uššanišket as ‘engaged’. Also possible is ‘put in the balance’ in the sense of ‘put at risk’ (cf. Friedrich 1952: iv 40 ‘aufs Spiel setzen’).

(9)  KUB 21.19+KBo 52.17 iii 19′–21′   (Prayer of Hattusili and Puduhepa, NH) nu KUR URUNerik EGIR-pa ašešanunun URUN[eriqqan URU-an] EGIR-pa wedaḫḫun nu=za ANA KUR URUNer[ik šer?] SAG.DU=YA ZI=YA uššaniškenun “I resettled the land of Nerik. I rebuilt the city Nerik. For(?) the land of Nerik I pledged my body and soul.”

(10)  KBo 21.22 Ro 14–21 (blessings for the king, OH/MS) nu=za kuit labarnaš LUGAL-uš ištanzanaš=šaš [x-x-x]-x-aš ilāliškezzi n=at=ši anda arān ēštu [nu=za kui]t MUNUStawanannaš MUNUS.LUGAL ŠA ZI=ŠU ŠA UZU=ŠU ilališkezi [n=a]t=ši anda aran ēštu § kāša GIŠRÍN karpiyemi nu labarnaš taluqauš MU.ḪI.A-uš ušneškemi kāša GIŠ.RÍN karpiyemi n=ašta MUNUS tawanannaš taluqauš MU.ḪI.A-uš ušneškemi AWAT GIŠ.RÍN araḫza QATI “Whatever the labarna the king desires with his soul and flesh(?), let it come to him. Whatever the tawananna the queen desires with her soul and flesh(?), let it come to her. I hereby lift up the scales and weigh out/match long years for the labarna. I hereby lift up the scales and weigh out/match long years for the tawananna. The word of the scales outside is finished.”

Contra Neu (1980: 81–82) and Watkins (1987: 293), ušneškemi is very unlikely to mean “I put up for sale.” As per Otten (1958: 132), Carruba (1964: 415), Kellerman (1978: 201), Archi (1979: 47), and Puhvel (1983: 52), ušneške- is rather the technical term for ‘to weigh’ on a balance scale, since such weighing requires putting something in one pan as a pledge/payment against what is put in the other (as per Otten 1958: 132 “einsetzen”). However, contra Puhvel it does not mean here that the king’s and queen’s lifespan “is symbolically hung in the balance,” nor contra Kellerman (1978: 204) that “if the ‘long years’ weigh much, the king will live a long

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time.” Rather with Otten (1958: 132) and Archi (1979: 44) the ritual action is to assure long years for the royal couple, as indicated by the preceding context. Compare further the similar sentiment of KUB 29.1 ii 7–10 cited by Archi: GIŠḫūšuš šūwaduš ḫarkanzi nu LUGAL-waš MU.KAM.ḪI.A-uš malkiyanzi wittann=a kudreš=šmit kappūwuwar=šamet ŪL duqqāri “They (the fate goddesses) are holding full spindles. They spin the years of the king, and of the years no reckoning (nor) counting is to be seen.” We also have other ample evidence from prayers that long life was among the blessings most sought for the Hittite king and queen. It is thus not remotely plausible that ‘long years’ would merely be offered to the king and queen as interested buyers. Rather, symbols for long years are placed in the one pan of the scales, and enough weight (surely metal) is put in the other to balance them and thus assure the desired long life of the royal couple (for such symbols of long years compare the hunting bag/cornucopia of Telipinu in KUB 17.10 iv 31). One may compare with Otten (1958: 131–2) the Hurro-Hittite ritual KBo 17.95 iii 5–11, where the king puts a lead ingot onto a set of scales that is then held out to the Sun-god. One would expect ušne- to be used either of the object A pledged to match B, or of the object B that is matched by object A. I have argued that the overall use of Hittite ušne(ške)- and of the Luvian family that includes unattalla- ‘merchant’ and /washa-/ and its various derivatives can only be fully understood in terms of an inherited Proto-Indo-European notion of a society built on a complex system of mutual exchange, one that was then largely renewed with the advent of commerce in the sense of exchange of goods for precious metals. On the other hand, the reference to some kind of meal or feast being furnished to the seller by the buyer in the first-millennium HLuvian texts involving land sales cited above appears to have no Indo-European background. For a ceremonial meal furnished by the buyer to conclude a land sale in second-millennium Mesopotamia see Gelb, Steinkeller and Whiting 1991: 243–4. For a similar practice in Late Bronze Age Emar see Beckman 1997: 99 and Scurlock 1993. Since the two instances in HLuvian texts are in fact from Syria (KARKAMIŠ and CEKKE), I conclude that this practice belongs to the Ancient Near East and was adopted from there by Luvian speakers. Thus in this case as in other aspects of what we (oversimplistically) label “Luvian” society, we are dealing with a mixture of old and new and with a blending of Indo-European and Ancient Near Eastern elements.

References Archi, A. 1979 Auguri per il Labarna. Pp. 27–51 in Studia Mediterranea Piero Meriggi dicata . Edited by O. Carruba. Pavia: Aurora. Beckman, G. 1997 Real Property Sales at Emar. Pp. 95–120 in Crossing Boundaries and Linking Horizons: Studies in Honor of Michael C. Astour on His 80th Birthday. Edited by G. D. Young, M. W. Chavalas, and R.E. Averbeck. Bethesda: CDL Press. Benveniste, É. 1951 Don et échange dans le vocabulaire indo-européen. L’Année sociologique 2: 7–20. Repr. pp. 315–26 in Problèmes de linguistique générale. Paris: Gallimard, 1966. 1969 Le vocabulaire des institutions indo-européennes. Paris: Éditions de Minuit. Carruba, O. 1964 Hethitisch -(a)šta, -(a)pa und die anderen “Ortsbezugpartikeln.” Orientalia NS 33: 405–36.

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Friedrich, Johannes 1952 Hethitisches Wörterbuch. Heidelberg: Winter. Gelb, I. J., Steinkeller P., and Whiting R. M .Jr. 1991 Earliest Land Tenure Systems in the Near East: Ancient Kudurrus. Oriental Institute Publications 104. Chicago: The Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago. Giusfredi, F. 2010 Sources for a Socio-Economic History of the Neo-Hittite States. THeth 28. Heidelberg: Winter. Hawkins, J. D. 2000 Corpus of Hieroglyphic Luwian Inscriptions. Volume 1. Inscriptions of the Iron Age. Berlin/New York: de Gruyter. Hawkins, J. D, and Morpurgo Davies A. 1982 Buying and selling in Hieroglyphic Luwian. Pp.  91–105 in Serta Indogermanica. Festschrift für Günter Neumann zum 60. Geburtstag. IBS 40. Edited by J. Tischler. Innsbruck: Institut für Sprachwissenschaft der Universität Innsbruck. Hoffmann, K. 1960 Der vedische Typus menāmenam. Zeitschrift für Vergleichende Sprachforschung 76: 242–8. Janda, M. 1999 Zur Herkunft von homerisch ὄαρ. Pp. 315–324 in Floreant Studia Mycenaea. Akten des X. Internationalen Colloquiums in Salzburg vom 1.-5. Mai 1995. Edited by Sigrid DegerJalkotzy et al. Wien: Österreichische Akademie der Wissenschaften. Kellerman, G. 1978 The King and the Sun-god in the Old Hittite Period. Tel Aviv 5: 199–208. Kloekhorst, A. 2008 Etymological Dictionary of the Hittite Inherited Lexicon. Leiden/Boston: Brill. Mallory, J. P, and Adams D. Q. 1997 Encyclopeda of Indo-European Culture. London/Chicago: Fitzroy Dearborn. Melchert, H. C. 1989 New Luvo-Lycian Isoglosses. Historische Sprachforschung 102: 23–45. 1997 Luvian /tāna-/ ‘sanctified, inviolable’. Historische Sprachforschung 110: 47–51. 2004a A Dictionary of the Lycian Language. Ann Arbor/New York: Beech Stave. 2004b Hieroglyphic Luvian Verbs in -min(a). Pp.  355–62 in Per Aspera ad Asteriscos. Studia Indogermanica in honorem Jens Elmegård Rasmussen sexagenarii Idibus Martiis anno MMIV. IBS 60. Edited by Adam Hyllested et al. Innsbruck: Institut für Sprachwissenschaft der Universität Innsbruck. Neu, E. 1980 Die hethitischen Verben des Kaufens und Verkaufens. Welt des Orients 11: 76–89. Oettinger, N. 2011 Indogermanisches *h1es- ‚sitzen’ und luwisch asa[r]. Münchener Studien zur Sprachwissenschaft 65: 167–9. Otten, H. 1958 Hethitische Totenrituale. Berlin: Akademie-Verlag. Pinault, G. 2011 Indogermanische Verwandtschaftswörter und das Bild der Gesellschaft. Handout from Arbeitstagung der Indogermanische Gesellschaft, “Menschenbild”, Halle, 31. März 2011. Puhvel, J. 1983 Homeric questions and Hittite answers. American Journal of Philology 104: 221–7. Scurlock, J. 1993 Once more ku-bu-ru. Nouvelles Assyriologique Brèves et Utilitaires 1993/21. Singer, I. 2002 Hittite Prayers. Writings from the Ancient World 11. Atlanta: Society for Biblical Literature. Starke, F. 1985 Die keilschrift-luwischen Texte in Umschrift. StBoT 30. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz.

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Szemerényi, O. 1979 Germanica I (1–5). Zeitschrift für Vergleichende Sprachforschung 93: 103–25. Watkins, C. 1975a La designation indo-européennes du ‘tabou’. Pp.  208–14 in Langues, discours, société. Pour Émile Benveniste. Edited by J. C. Milner et al. Paris: Éditions du Seuil. 1975b Some Indo-European verb phrases and their transformations. Münchener Studien zur Sprachwissenschaft 33: 89–109. 1987 Linguistic and archeological light on some Homeric formulas. Pp. 286–98 in Proto-IndoEuropean: the Archaeology of a Linguistic Problem. Studies in Honor of Marija Gimbutas. Edited by S. Skomal, and E. Polomé. Washington DC: Institute for the Study of Man. Yakubovich, I. 2010 The West Semitic God El in Anatolian Hieroglyphic Transmission. Pp.  385–98 in Pax Hethitica. Studies on the Hittites and their Neighbours in Honour of Itamar Singer. StBoT 51. Edited by Yoram Cohen et al. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Zehnder, T. 2010 Die hethitischen Frauennamen. Katalog und Interpretation. Dresdner Beiträge zu Hethitologie 29. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz.

Hittite Clitic Doubling as an Innovative Category: Its Origin Andrej V. Sideltsev Moscow

The topic of Hittite clitic doubling easily falls within the larger topic “Tradition and Innovation in the Ancient Near East” for several reasons. The first is purely historiographic: clitic doubling is not traditionally recognized for Hittite and thus can be seen as an innovative category. The second reason is that this paper deals with the origin of clitic doubling–its development out of left dislocations. Thus clitic doubling is an innovation as seen from the perspective of left dislocations. Although I have already devoted a number of papers to Hittite clitic doubling where I have defined the category 1 and analysed its typological background, 2 this concrete topic has not been dwelt upon in any detail.

Ex. 1. Left dislocation karpi-ši

# n=a-ni

arāi-t ##

angeri-NOM.SG.C

# CONN=iti-CL.PRON.3SG.ACC.C

lift-3SG.PRET

“The angeri, she stopped/lifted iti.”

Left dislocation involves syntactic movement of full NP out of its base-generated position to the left of the clause. The dislocated NP (karpiš “anger” in Ex. 1) is resumed by the coreferential enclitic pronoun (-an “it”) in the base clause. As the result, enclitic personal pronouns and full coreferential NPs occur in different clauses, although there is a tight syntactic connection between the two clauses and the clause with the dislocated full NPs is not independent. The most common function of left dislocations is to code contrastive or accessible topics. In the latter case there is a topic shift.

Ex. 2. Clitic doubling n=a-ni=šan

QEMANNAMi

išhūwā-i #

CONN=iti-CL.PRON.3SG.ACC.C=LOC.PART

flouri

scatter-3SG.PRES

“She scatters iti, the flouri.” Author’s note:  This research is supported by RNF, grant No. 14-18-03270. 1.  Sideltsev 2011a. 2.  Sideltsev 2011b.

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Clitic doubling involves enclitic 3rd person pronouns (-an “it” in Ex. 2) in their standard Wackernagel position coreferential with the full NP (QEMANNAM “flour”) in the same syntactic function. The position of the NP within the clause is not marked, i.e. it is base-generated. There are two main functions of clitic doubling: discourse status change and shift topic:

Ex. 3. Clitic doubling discourse status change NS/OH (CTH 9.6) KBo 3.28 obv. ii 17`-19` 1. atta-š=ma-š

haršan-ī

father-GEN. SG=my-GEN.SG

D

mekk-eš

ÍD-ya

person-DAT.SG river-LOC. SG

2. š=u-š

ABI

LUGAL

CONN=them-CL.PRON.3PL. father king ACC.C 3.

m

Kizzuwa-š=pat

Kizzuwa-NOM. SG.C=EMPH.PART CONN=himi-CL. PRON.3SG.ACC.C

natta

huišnu-škē-t #

NEG

let.live-IMPERF-3SG.PRET

ANA

SAG

ABI=YA

D

in

person

father=my

river-LOC. SG

atta-š=mi-š

4. š=a-ni

papre-ške-er #

manybe.proven.guilty- IMNOM.PL.C PERF-3PL.PRET

Kizzuwa-ni

m

father-NOM.SG=my- KizzuwaiNOM.SG ACC.SG.C

ÍD-ya

papri-tta # be.proven.guilty3SG.PRET.MED

nat

huenū-t #

NEG

let.live-3SG. PRET

“(1) Many were proven guilty in the river ordeal in (the matter of offending) the person of my father. (2) The king’s father did not let them live. (3) Kizzuwa in particular was proven guilty by the river ordeal in (the matter of offending) the person of my father. (4) My father did not let himi, Kizzuwai, live.” 3 Here NP Kizzuwa- was restrictive focus in clause 3. In clause 4 clitic doubling codes the change of Kizzuwa- discourse status to the topical.

Ex. 4. Clitic doubling shift topic: correlation MH/MS (CTH 480) KUB 29.7+ KBo 21.41 rev. 24–30 1. nu=šši CONN=her-CL.PRON.3SG.DAT

soapwort.ACC.SG.N

2. n=a-t CONN=it-CL.PRON.3SG.ACC.N 3. anda=ma=kan then=but=LOC.PART 4. mān=wa if=DIR. SP.PART

pi-anzi #

hašuwā[i]SAR

give-3PL.PRES

anda

puššai-zzi #

in

pound-3SG.PRES

kiššan

me[ma-i] #

thus

speak-3SG.PRES

ANA PA[NI]

DINGIRLIM

kuiški

EN SÍSKUR idālawann-i

before

deity

some.NOM. SG.C

ritual evil-LOC.SG practitioner

memi-an

har-zi #

speak-PARTICIP.SG.NOM.N

AUX.PERF-3SG.PRES

3.  For the philological apparatus see Sideltsev 2011a; 2011b and my forthcoming book.

Hittite Clitic Doubling as an Innovative Category 5. pai-ddu=wa=kan

edan-i

AUX-3SG.IMPER= DIR.SP.PART=LOC.PART

419

DINGIRLIM-aš parn-i

that-LOC.SG god-GEN.SG

and[a]n

house-LOC.SG inside

hurtai-š ling[a]i-š paprātarr =a

hāšuwāy-aš iwar

kiša-ru #

curseNOM. SG.C

soapwortGEN.SG

become-3SG. IMPER.MED

perjuryNOM. SG.C

uncleanliness.NOM.SG.N.=and

6. nu=war=a-t

hāšu[wāy]-ašSAR

CONN=DIR.SP.PART=them- soapwort-GEN.SG CL.PRON.3PL.NOM.N 7. nu=war=a-ti=za CONN=DIR.SP.PART=iti-CL. PRON.3SG.ACC.N=REFL

like

iwar miy-ān

ēš-du #

like

be-3SG. IMPER

luxuriant-PARTICIP. NOM.SG.N

namma

iyatnuw-ani

further

luxuriant-ACC. soapworti.ACC.SG.N SG.N

hāšuwāiSARi

[puš]š-uwanzi

[l]ē

kuiški

tarah-zi # §

crush-INF

PROHIB

no.one.NOM.SG.C

be.able-3SG.PRES

“(1) They give her the soapwort (2) she pounds it (3) and then speaks thus: “(4) If some ritual practitioner has spoken with evil intent befo[re] the deity: (5) “Let curse, perjury and uncleanliness inside that temple become like soapwort. (6) Let them be luxuriant like soapwort. (7) Further let no one be able to crush/pluck iti, the luxurious soapworti!.” The most likely candidate out of clauses 1–6 for the antecedent of the enclitic pronoun -at “them” in clause 7 is hurtaiš ling[a]iš paprātarr=a “curse, perjury and uncleanliness” in clause 5, which is the main topic. hāšuwāi SAR “soapwort” in clause 6 is a subordinate topic and is a much less likely antecedent for -at. However, in clause 7 -at has to refer to hāšuwāi SAR. In this case topic shift is clearly present. Still this topic shift occurs in the correlative context, a ritual of sympathetic magic where actions with real world paraphernalia are correlated with the actions with magic substances. Clitic doubling is the ideal device to establish this correlation linguistically. Cross-linguistically, left dislocations are considered to be the most common source of clitic doubling, 4 although there is very little diachronic data available on the development from dislocations to clitic doubling proper. Best-explored are the data of the languages of the Balkan Sprachbund 5 and the Romance languages. 6 But even in these languages the hypothesis that clitic doubling arose from right and left dislocations follows mostly from the fact that in Greek right and left dislocations are attested before clitic doubling. 7 Hittite conforms to these data: the only plausible source of clitic doubling is left dislocations. Purely functionally, the development from left dislocations to clitic doubling is as follows. Shift topic function of left dislocations is clearly the starting point. Shift topic of left dislocations is preserved in the same shift topic function of clitic doubling which is, however, attested in less referentially ambiguous contexts 4.  Givón 1976; Arkadiev 2009, 2010. 5.  Kalluli, Tasmowski 2008: 15; Janse 2008; Dimitrova-Vulchanova, Vulchanov 2008: 119; Mønnesland 1977: 108. 6.  Iemmolo 2010: passim, esp. 257–8. 7. Kalluli, Tasmowski 2008: 15; De Boel 2008: 90; Janse 2008. See Mønnesland 1977: 108 for Serbo-Chroatian and Dimitrova-Vulchanova, Vulchanov 2008: 119 for Bulgarian.

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than left dislocations. Within clitic doubling the function of shift topic developed into that of discourse status change retaining only one of its original components, discourse status change, and losing the other one, referent change. There is a semantic parallel for this development in the particle -a/ma. 8 Discourse status change further evolved into coding active referents when no ambiguity arises. This development involves gradual functional bleaching–loss of difference in discourse status between the NP in the immediately preceding clause and the same NP in the clause with clitic doubling, but real bleaching is attested only in two examples in my corpus. 9 This scenario of deriving clitic doubling out of left dislocations involves word order de-marking: left dislocations attest marked word order with an NP in the sub-clause to the left of the base clause, resumed by the enclitic pronoun in the base clause—see Ex. 1. Clitic doubling always attests unmarked word order -the enclitic pronoun follows the first stressed word, the coreferential full NP is in the second or third position—see Exx. 2, 3, 4. The only hypothesis which aims to explain how exactly clitic doubling evolved out of dislocations belongs to T. Givón (Givón 1976). 10 He does not include clitic doubling into his treatment, being solely interested in the development from dislocations to subject/object agreement markers, which is actually the next stage of development after clitic doubling. According to him, the development involves functional de-marking of dislocations which brings about word order de-marking after originally topical structure was understood as just expressing grammatical agreement (Givón 1976: 154–5): [. . .] de-marking: A subject topic-shift construction is over-used in a weaker context. Speakers eventually recognize the context as being much too weak to justify a marked status for the shift topic construction. So they re-analyze it as the neutral syntax. The erstwhile topic-subject gets re-analyzed as “mere” subject while the topic-agreement anaphoric pronoun gets re-analyzed as subject-agreement.

In other words, he supposes that the reason for the word order demarking was functionally redundant use of clitic doubling which codes established topic with an enclitic pronoun + full NP, whereas normally established topic is coded simply by the enclitic anaphoric pronoun. I claim that this is a gross oversimplification at least for Hittite in two respects. First, Hittite clitic doubling synchronically does not code just established topic. Second, unmarked word order is attested for clitic doubling which codes marked kinds of topic besides the established topic. Now I will dwell on these points in more detail. At the very least for Hittite the topic coded by clitic doubling is very seldom established. There is normally either some kind of ambiguity or discourse status change that requires something more than just unmarked word order with enclitic pronoun. E.g. in the following example clitic doubling codes established topic with minimal referential ambiguity:

8.  Melchert 2009. 9.  One of them will be cited as Ex. 6 below. 10.  See also Lambrecht 1994: 193.

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421

Ex. 5. OH/OS (CTH 416.A) KBo 17.1+ obv. i 3′–6′ 1. [3-i]š

LUGAL-u-n

huy-anzi #

MUNUS.LUGAL-ann=a

three.times king-ACC.SG.C

queen-ACC.SG.C=and

run-3PL.PRES

šī[na-]n

2. 3-kiš=a=šmaš

three.times=but=them.CL.PRON.3PL.DAT statuette-ACC.SG 3. GU4-n(=a?)=šmaš

out

hold-3SG.PRES

parā

three.times bull-ACC.SG.C

5. MUNUS.LUGAL-ašš=a=a-n queen-NOM.SG.C=and=it-CL.PRON.3SG.ACC.C 6. partaun-it=u-ši

LUGAL-u-n

wing-INSTR=themi-CL. king-ACC.SG.C PRON.3PL.ACC.C

ēp-zi #

three.times out

GU4-un

[3-]iš

king-NOM.SG.C

ēp-zi #

3-iš

bull-ACC.SG.C(=but?)=them.CL.PRON.3PL.DAT 4. LUGAL-u-š

[pa]rā

hold-3SG.PRES

1 šīna-nn=a

allappahh-i #

1 statuette-ACC. SG.C=and

spit-3SG.PRES

3-iš

[al]lappahh-i #

three.times

spit-3SG.PRES

MUNUS.LUGAL-anni=a

ašaš-ški-zzi #

queeni-ACC.SG.C=and

seat-IMPERF3SG.PRES

“(1) They run to the king and queen three times. (2) (S)he holds out a statuette to them three times. (3) (S)he holds out a bull to them three times. (4) The king spits on the bull (and) the statuette three times. (5) And the queen also spits on it three times. (6) With the wing she seats themi, the king and queeni.” On the one hand, LUGAL MUNUS.LUGAL “the king (and) the queen” are the established topic of all the context: it follows, inter alia, from the use of the anaphoric pronoun -šmaš in clauses 2 and 3 which has to have the established topic as its antecedent. However, in clauses 4 and 5 LUGAL “the king” and MUNUS. LUGAL “the queen” are employed separately. In clause 6 they function again as a group. The use of clitic doubling in this clause marks re-activation of the “group” referent of clauses 1–3. At the same time the referential ambiguity is much less than in left dislocations. As I have already noticed, coding established topic is a very rare function of Hittite clitic doubling. It is attested in my corpus only twice:

Ex. 6. Clitic doubling continued topic MH/MS (CTH 443) KBo 15.10+ obv. ii 33–35 1. nu

i[d]ā[l]u

CONN 2. nu CONN

harnik-ten #

evil.ACC.SG.N

destroy-2PL.IMPER

ANA

BELI

ANA

DAM=ŠU DUMUMEŠ =ŠU

to

lord

to

wife =his

3. [nu=]ššii

UTU-u-š

D

D

children- good.ACC. PL=his SG.N

IM-a-šš=a

CONN=himi. Sungod-VOC.SG Stormgod-VOC. CL.PRON.3SG.DAT SG=and DUMU-MEŠ=ŠU āššu childrenPL=his

TI-tar

namma ēš-t[u] #

āššu

mayandatar

then

be-3SG.IMPER

ANA

BEL[I]i ANA

DAM

to

lordi

wife

to

TUKUL parā

GIŠ

weal.ACC.SG.N life.ACC.SG.N youthful.vigour. weapon ACC.SG.N

ahead

nēant-an pointedACC.SG.N

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[na]m[m]a

pi-ška-tten #

then

give-IMPERF-2PL.IMPER

“(1) Destroy evil. (2) May it then be good for the lord, (his) wife (and) his children. (3) But let you, Sungod and Stormgod, then keep giving to himi, the lordi, (his) wife (and) his children weal, life, youthful vigour (and) weapon pointed ahead.” ANA BELI “to the lord” was re-activated in clause 2 and is the established topic of the context. No discourse status change is involved in clause 3 where clitic doubling is employed. Clitic doubling is thus functionally identical to the enclitic anaphoric pronoun with unmarked word order. In the absolute majority of cases topic coded by clitic doubling is not established–it codes either discourse status change from focus/comment to topic or accessible topics. 11 Consequently, it is more marked. Still clitic doubling in Hittite is unmarked as for the word order in all the functions. Thus the word order demarking has to occur at an earlier stage before clitic doubling comes to code established topic at the stage, when it codes kinds of topic which are less active than established topic or discourse status change from focus/comment to topic. In what follows I will determine the stage. If we confront left dislocations and clitic doubling functionally, we will immediately notice there are two functional spheres–one is coded both by left dislocations and clitic doubling and the other is coded only by clitic doubling. It is a priori obvious that the first sphere is the starting point of the development of clitic doubling and contains the looked-for stage. It is represented by the functions of shift topic, inferable topic and accessible topic. There is complete identity in the inferable topic function between left dislocations and clitic doubling:

Ex. 7. Clitic doubling accessible topic (inferable from the situation) MS (CTH 433.2) KBo 17.105+ rev. iii 2–3 1. nu CONN

karaš

ŠEAM

tepu

k.-grain

barley

a bit

dāi # take.3SG.PRES

2. n=a-t=kan

pahhun-it

CONN=them-CL.PRON.3PL/SG.ACC.N=LOC.PART 3. n=a-ni=šan

QEMANNAMi

CONN=iti-CL.PRON.3SG.ACC.C=LOC.PART flouri

šanhu-zzi #

fire-INSTR roasts-3SG.PRES išhūwā-i # scatter-3SG.PRES

“(1) She takes a bit of karaš-grain (and) barley (2) and roasts them on a fire (lit. with fire). (3) She scatters iti, the flouri.” QEMANNAM “the flour” is introduced into the text for the first time. Still, it is inferable from the context, as the constituent parts of flour and the way it is cooked were mentioned.

11.  This coding only specific types of topics, not any kind of topic, is not just a unique feature of Hittite. There are ample cross-linguistic data that clitic doubling at the very least at some stage of its development does not code any kind of topic, but rather some specialized topic.

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Ex. 8. Left dislocation inferable topic OH/MS (CTH 324.1.A) KUB 17.10 obv. ii 36-rev. iii 2 1. n=a-n

ar[āi-t] ##

CONN=him-CL.PRON.3SG.ACC.C 2. karpi-ši

lift-3SG.PRET

# n=a-ni

arāi-t ##

angeri-NOM.SG.C # CONN=iti-CL.PRON.3SG.ACC.C lift-3SG.PRET 3. kardimiy[at-ši

# n=a-ni]

arāi-t ##

wrathi-NOM.SG.C # CONN=iti-CL.PRON.3SG.ACC.C lift-3SG.PRET 4. šāwar

arāi-t ##

sullenness.ACC.SG.N

lift-3SG.PRET

“(1) She held him (Telipinu) in check. (2) The angeri, she stopped/lifted iti. (3) The wrathi, she stopped/lifted iti. (4) She stopped/lifted the sullenness.” Here the referents are in the part-whole relationship: raging Telipinu (clause 1), on the one hand, his anger (clause 2) and fury (clause 3), on the other. Anger, fury and sullenness are easily understood as aspects of the rage of Telipinu. Thus they are inferable topics: Telipinu’s anger and fury are explication of angry Telipinu. However, each of the inferable topic functions of both clitic doubling and left dislocations is attested only once. The left dislocation attestation is in a translated text. Normally, inferable topic is not coded by either left dislocations or clitic doubling. Discourse status of referents is commonly less accessible for left dislocations and more accessible for clitic doubling. Other functions from the first sphere are not identical. Shift topic function is particularly probative. With clitic doubling it occurs only in the correlative context. I discussed it in detail sub Ex. 4. With left dislocations it involves a full-blown topic shift and a new topic:

Ex. 9. OH/NS (CTH 19.II.A) KBo 3.1+ obv. ii 13 5

ŠEŠMEŠi=ŠU

# nu=šmaši

five brothersi=his

ÉMEŠ

tagg-ašta ##

# CONN=themi-CL.PRON.3PL.DAT houses allot-3SG.PRET

“(As for) his five brothers, he allotted them houses.” 5 ŠEŠMEŠ=ŠU were not mentioned in the text before. Another function, accessible topic, is similar, but not identical with clitic doubling and left dislocations. If the referent of the new topic coded by left dislocations is accessible, there is normally a topic shift because the previous established topic is different and the referent of the left-dislocated NP got deactivated since its last mention in the previous context:

Ex. 10. NS/NH (CTH 81.A) KUB 1.1+ rev. iv 73–75 1.

haršiyali=ya=kan

išhui-ška-anzi ##

DUG

h.-vessel.ACC.SG.N=and=LOC.PART 2. IŠTARi # DINGIR D

IŠTARi

fill-IMPERF-3PL.PRES

=a-ši=mu ##

LIM

# goddess=shei-CL.PRON.3SG.NOM.C=me.CL.PRON.1SG.DAT

3. nu=šmaš=šan CONN=them=LOC.PART

D

IŠTAR šarlaimmi-n

IŠTAR

[š]ipant-ška-anzi ##

exalted-ACC.SG.C libate-IMPERF-3PL.PRES

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“(1) And they fill the h.-vessel. (2) (As for) IŠTARi, shei is my goddess. (3) They will make libations for themselves to the exalted IŠTAR.” In Ex. 10 the referent of the left dislocated NP, DIŠTAR, although being the topic of all the text, is not an active referent in the immediately previous context. The established topic of the previous clause is DUGharšiyali “h.-vessel.” So it is accessible for Ex. 10, requiring re-activation to become again the established topic of the context in question. The only comparable example with clitic doubling is construed differently: MUŠilluyanka- “serpent” is first coded in clause 4 of Ex. 11 as the established topic by only the enclitic pronoun -ši “to him”, although it is clearly only accessible. Clitic doubling is employed in the next clause. Thus it codes accessible topic as if it was established topic:

Ex. 11. NS/OH (CTH 321.A) KBo 3.7 rev. iii 20′–28′ 1. mān

ēšr-e=šš-i

āppa

when body-LOC=his-LOC again 2. n=a-š

when=him.CL.PRON.3SG.DAT 4. n=a-ni=za CONN=himi-CL. PRON.3SG.ACC.C=REFL

6. nu CONN

arun-i

once more sea-LOC.SG

3. mān=ši

and

SIG5-atta # be.sound-3SG.PRET.MED

namma

CONN=he-CL.PRON.3SG. NOM.C

5. Ù

karuiliatta as.of.old

za[h]hiy-a

pai-t #

battle-DAT.SG go-3SG.PRET

zahhai-n

pāi-š #

battle-ACC.SG.C

give-3SG.PRET

namma

MUŠ

tarahh-uwan

dāi-š #

at last

serpenti -ACC.SG

smite-INF

take-3SG. PRET

illuyanka-[n]i

DUMU

D

MUŠ

katta #

son

Storm.god

serpent-GEN.SG

with

IM

illuyanka-aš

šarā

nepiš-i

att-i=šš-i

halzāi-š # §

up

heaven-DAT.SG

father-DAT.SG=his-3SG.DAT

shout-3SG.PRET

“(1) When he was again sound in body as of old, (2) then he went once more to the sea for battle. (3) When he gave battle to him (4) and was at last beginning to smite himi, the serpenti, (5) then the son of the Storm-god was with the serpent (6) and shouted up to heaven, to his father.” All the rest of functions of clitic doubling which dominate statistically—discourse status change and established topic with minimal referential ambiguity— 12 involve more accessible topics than left dislocations. They are never coded by left dislocations. So I suppose that word order demarking and shaping of clitic doubling as a syntactic category distinct from left dislocations occurs much earlier than T.Givón thought–when the referent of clitic doubling gets more accessible than is normal for prototypical left dislocations. We can easily delimit the exact point where it happened–the functions of shift topic, inferable topic and accessible topic. If viewed generally, these three functions are coded by both clitic doubling and by left dislocations. Still even in this sphere there are finer-grained distinctions which speak against 12.  See for these functions above and in more detail Sideltsev 2011a.

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complete identity. If we follow Givón’s scenario which seems plausible, we will have to assume that a very slight increase in the topic accessibility was sufficient to bring about word order demarking. The subsequent functional development 13 occurred within clitic doubling. The fact that higher accessibility correlates with lesser degree of syntactic marking is independently demonstrated by the broader pespective. Active referents (including those which are established topics) are the least syntactically marked type of topic, being coded by clitic pronouns. 14 The accessible (but not active) topic is the most syntactically marked. More accessible topics are less syntactically marked (topicalizations within the clause) than less accessible (left dislocations). 15 So the scale established topic > more accessible topics > less accessible topics clearly correlates with degree of syntactic marking, although each stage is functionally motivated. 16 Hittite clitic doubling fits nicely into this picture. I suppose that it should occupy the intermediate position between constructions coding established topics and more accessible topics. 13. To the functions of discourse status change and established topic with minimal referential ambiguity. 14.  See Lambrecht 1994: 201: “From my characterization of the preferred topic expression as an unaccented pronominal argument, whose function is to express the grammatical and semantic role played by a pragmatically ALREADY ESTABLISHED topic referent in a clause it follows that the position of such a pronominal expression is functionally speaking IRRELEVANT. Once a topic referent is pragmatically established, i.e. once the function of the topic expression is no longer to ANNOUNCE the topic referent but to mark its role as an argument in a proposition, there is no longer any functional reason for the topic to appear at the beginning of the sentence.” “[U]naccented pronominals are NORMALLY topic expressions” (Lambrecht 1994: 176). “Since active referents are normally unaccented and pronominal [. . .], the preferred topic expression is an UNACCENTED PRONOMINAL (or inflectional or zero) morpheme” (Lambrecht 1994: 165). In Hittite clitic pronouns code not only established topics but also active referents that are not established topics. 15.  “Both the topicalization and the detachment construction mark an NP grammatically as a topic, but only the detached topic falls clearly under the Principle of the Separation of Reference and Role. [. . .] The difference seems to be at least in part one in the cognitive accessibility state of the NP referent. Topicalization generally seems to require a higher degree of accessibility than left [dislocation] [. . .]” (Lambrecht 1994: 195). 16.  It has to be acknowledged that right dislocations a bit blur this clear picture. On the one hand, there exists “[t]he crosslinguistic tendency for right [dislocation] constructions to be used in discourse contexts in which the topic referent is already highly salient, and for left [dislocation] constructions to be reserved for topic-announcing or topic-shifting contexts [. . .]” (Lambrecht 1994: 204). On the other, word order of right dislocations is highly marked.

References Arkadiev, P. M. 2009 Soglasovanie s imennoj gruppoj v periferijnom padeže: opyt tipologii. Pp. 1–16 in VI konferencija po tipologii i grammatike. ILI RAN. Sankt-Peterburg 26–28 nojabrja 2009 g. 2010 Clitic Doubling: Towards a Typology. Pp. 1–10 in Kruglyj stol “Klitiki i sintaksicheskaja tipologija. RGGU, 7 ijunja 2010 g. Dimitrova-Vulchanova, M. and Vulchanov, V. 2008 Clitic doubling and Old Bulgarian. Pp.  105–134 in Clitic Doubling in the Balkan Languages. Edited by D. Kalluli, and L. Tasmowski. Amsterdam–Philadelphia: John Benjamins.

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Givón, T. 1976 Topic, Pronoun and Grammatical Agreement. Pp. 149–188 in Subject and Topic. Edited by Ch. Li. New York: Academic Press. Iemmolo, G. 2010 Topicality and differential object marking. Evidence from Romance and beyond. Studies in Language 34/2: 239–272. Janse, M. 2008 Clitic doubling from Ancient to Asia Minor Greek. Pp. 165–202 in Clitic Doubling in the Balkan Languages. Edited by D. Kalluli, and L. Tasmowski. Amsterdam–Philadelphia: John Benjamins. Kalluli, D., and Tasmowski, L. 2008 Introduction: Clitic doubling, core syntax and the interfaces. Pp. 1–32 in Clitic Doubling in the Balkan Languages. Edited by D. Kalluli and L. Tasmowski. Amsterdam–Philadelphia: John Benjamins. Lambrecht, K. 1994 Information Structure and Sentence Form. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Melchert, H. C. 2009 Discourse Conditioned Use of Hittite -ma. Pp.  187–195 in Pragmatische Kategorien. Form, Funktion und Diachronie. Akten der Arbeitstagung der Indogermanischen Gesellschaft vom 24. bis 26. September 2007 in Marburg. Edited by E. Rieken and P. Widmer. Wiesbaden: Reichert Verlag. Mønnesland, S. 1977 Udvajanje ličnih zamenica u srpskohrvatskom jeziku. Naučni sastanak slavista u Vukove dane 1: 101–110. Sideltsev, A. V. 2011a Clitic Doubling: A New Syntactic Category in Hittite. AoF 38/1: 81–91. 2011b Hittite Parallels for Balkan Sprachbund Clitic Doubling. Zbornik Matice Srpske za filologiju i lingvistiku LIV/1: 9–26.

Memory and Tradition of the Hittite Empire in the post-Hittite Period M. E. Balza and C. Mora Limoges and Pavia

0. We do not know exactly when, how or why the Hittite Empire came to an end. However, from the 12th century b.c. onwards there is no evidence of political activity, cuneiform document writing, or any other type of intervention by the Great Kings of Ḫattuša either in Anatolia or in the Hittitized Syria. This marks the beginning of a critical phase in Central Anatolia, and even though a few written and archaeological records are available from this period, it is difficult to pinpoint their exact date. Only two centuries later is there enough information to make historical reconstruction possible again, but the political situation is very different from the previous period and a series of small states (the Neo-Hittite states) have been established in the territory of southern Anatolia, which once belonged to the Hittite kingdom. This gap (“Dark Age”) between the end of the Hittite Empire and the new era prevents us from finding clear evidence of continuity with documentation from the 13th (or early 12th) century b.c. It also makes it difficult to outline the different stages that underlie the transmission of cultural and political elements over the previous centuries. 1 Obviously, the use of the Anatolian hieroglyphic script, which was widespread in south eastern Anatolia, and the use of the Luwian language, which was probably spoken in both periods, advocate for a certain amount of cultural continuity in the region. 2 But these observations raise some additional questions. Can we find any traces of awareness of this continuity? Did the rulers, the scribes, or the administrative officials of the Neo-Hittite kingdoms have any memory of the power, the culture, and the extent of the Hittite Empire? And, if so, could we ascertain how this memory was preserved over time? Over the last few decades, some studies on ancient societies have dealt with the importance of memory for the preservation of social frames and the construction of cultural identity. 3 In the present paper we will focus on this important topic. In particular, we would like to return to the Hittite Empire period to retrieve the premises 1.  For a summary table of the research on this subject, see Hawkins 2003: 146ff.; Singer 2005: 443–444. See below for the discovery of the Kuzi-Teššup seal and its significance for the light shed on the “Dark Age.” 2.  In addition, the material culture seems to suggest a certain amount of continuity between the two periods, at least in some areas, see, among others, Bittel 1983; Genz 2003; Dodd 2007; Mora and d’Alfonso 2012. 3.  We refer in particular to the research of Aleida and Jan Assmann (cf., e.g., Assmann and Assmann 1988 and 1994; Assmann and Assmann 1987; Assmann, Assmann and Hardmeier 1983; Assmann 1992 and 2008).

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of some post-Hittite cultural features and to offer a preliminary contribution on the study of the mechanisms through which cultural elements are transmitted over time. More specifically, this paper is part of a wider research project that will analyze how and to what extent some features of the Hittite culture were transmitted and somehow transformed in the post-Hittite period (12th–8th century b.c.). 1. In the first half of the 20th century, M. Halbwachs gave substance to the idea that memory cannot just be considered as an individual, psychological experience. 4 If, as Halbwachs maintains, there is a personal memory that pertains to the individual background and expectations, there is also a socio-political, collective memory that pertains to a community as a whole and projects the image of this community both onto the past and into the future as a function of social life. 5 Since this second degree of memory plays a specific role in the self-awareness of social groups and contributes to shaping their identity, theoreticians of the social sciences followed in the footsteps of Halbwachs and started to consider memory as part of the collective domain and, more importantly, as a phenomenon directly related to the present. 6 It is generally recognized that the differences and dishomogeneities which play a role in every social group undergo somehow a manipulation process. This process results in making these elements, which are supposed to represent a source of social disturbance, useful for the society as a whole,, or rather for the ideological construction of its leading class. Accordingly, also the memory of a social group depends on the surrounding cultural environment, the political discourse of those in power and the ideological needs of legitimation of the established authority. And, if the perception of the past is shaped and manipulated by the socio-political features of the present, it is ever-evolving in conformity with the changing trends of the contemporary period. However, Halbwachs’ “collective memory” is eminently a social memory, the set of memories that an individual shares with his contemporaries; its length depends on the durability of social frameworks and social ties between the members of the society.  7 Even though Halbwachs did not include the cultural sphere in his collective memory, over the last twenty years another fundamental concept pertaining to the realm of memory has been developed: cultural memory. Since then, the cultural sphere has become an integral part of memory studies. The level of memory we will deal with in this paper is the cultural memory as J. Assmann defined it: Cultural memory is a form of collective memory, in the sense that it is shared by a number of people and that it conveys to these people a collective, that is, cultural identity. Halbwachs, however, the inventor of the term “collective memory” was careful to keep his concept of collective memory apart from the realm of traditions, transmissions, and transferences, which we propose to subsume under the term “cultural memory.” 8 4.  Cf. Halbwachs 1994 (1925) and 1997 (1950). 5.  See in particular Halbwachs 1997 (1950): 51–96. 6.  We shall limit ourselves to mention a few studies: for a general overview on cultural memory studies, see, e.g., the contributions published in Erll and Nünning 2008; for some considerations on the ancient near eastern situation, see, e.g., Assmann 1992: 38–48, and Liverani 2010; for more general observations on the sociocultural role of memory, see, e.g., Ricoeur 2000: 112–152 and passim. 7.  See in particular Halbwachs 1997 (1950): 143–192. 8.  Assmann 2008: 110.

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Cultural memory is therefore an institutionalized, exteriorized, and objectified memory, a memory which has its own specialists, times and places of performance: “in the cultural memory the past is not preserved as such but is cast in symbols as they are represented in oral myths or in writings, performed in feasts, and as they are always illuminating a changing present. In the context of cultural memory, the distinction between myth and history vanish.” 9 With regard to the central Anatolia plateau in the period bridging the 2nd and the 1st millennium b.c., the poor state of the documentation prevents us from evaluating the mechanisms used to construct both the cultural and the collective memory or, as Assmann calls it, the communicative memory. 10 We can however presume that, after the downfall of Ḫattuša, in the regions once subjected to the Hittites, the preexisting local administrative structures were reorganized and readapted to the new needs of the time; we can also imagine that the governors and high officials, who were dispatched to the provincial areas during the very last Empire phase, took power on their own, and new political entities rose from the ruins of the former Empire. Within this new geopolitical context, Hittite traditions, literary and artistic forms, and official and administrative titles might have converged in the cultural heritage and fused together with new stimuli in a tireless exchange, in continuous enhancement and constant overlapping, which, ultimately, is nothing more than the construction of culture. On the other hand, the existing link between culture and memory is so close that J. Lotman and B. A. Uspenskij (1975: 43–44) defined culture as “the memory of a society that is not genetically transmitted” as a social phenomenon which refers to the historical experience of the past and links past, present and future. But another important aspect should be taken into consideration. If the preservation of both identity and social order are innate needs of every social group, whatever the mechanisms of its self-regulation and its inner composition may be, these same needs should be also identified as important components of ancient societies. They specifically require the social links between the members of the society to persist and the ideological forms to circulate within the group. Following this logic, we can presume that in those areas in which former Hittite officials or, in the case of Karkamiš, former Hittite dynasties took or maintained political power in the first decades of the 12th century b.c., the representatives of this same power referred to the Hittite cultural background when legitimating their own authority and when creating a shared past. We can also presume that, at the same time, the assimilation of external and local cultural features, which played an important role in the construction of the identity of the Neo-Hittite states, certainly accompanied the transition from one epoch to the next. This assimilation process should have been accompanied, in turn, by the inner necessity to forget or efface the memories that were ineffective for the purposes of power. Research into the memory and tradition of the Hittite Empire in the post-Hittite period have particularly focused on pinpointing the elements of continuity between the two periods as well as the elements that testify to the presence of external/ 9.  Assmann 2008: 113. 10.  On the relationship between cultural memory, communicative memory, and collective memory, see lastly Assmann 2008. On this subject, see also the miscellaneous volume edited in 2008 by Erll and Nünning (in particular, The Invention of Cultural Memory, by Dietrich Harth, Maurice Halbwachs mémoire collective, by Jean-Christophe Marcel and Laurent Mucchielli, and Cultural Memory by Harald Welzer).

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contemporary influences on the artistic and textual production, rather than on the cultural memory construction. In fact, when there are sufficient written sources to make coherent historical reconstruction possible again (10th b.c. ca.), it is unclear whether the power that was established at that time used the Hittite heritage consciously, as part of cultural memory construction, or rather whether it employed a traditional heritage, deprived of its original meaning. After all, culture is not static but evolves, grows and changes over time as the result of constant creative activity. And its paradigms change accordingly. We will now examine some important studies on the subject of the continuity in the aftermath of the Hittite Empire and some interesting case studies. 2. In the Hittite Empire period, there was an important event that presumably led to significant developments in the post-Hittite period: the transfer of the capital from Ḫattuša to Tarḫuntašša, during the reign of Muwatalli II in the early 13th century b.c. In a recent contribution, I. Singer (2006) hypothesizes not only that this transfer was “the apex of a religious reform promoting the cult of the Storm-god of Lightning” (2006: 37), but also that, from a wider geo-political perspective, there was a “Luwian orientation” (p. 43) in Muwatalli’s reform. In short, Singer suggests that the Lower Land (the Anatolian region to the South of Tuz Gölü, the Salt Lake), which had been the “neglected third corner of Hittite Anatolia, suddenly leaped into the foreground of Hittite history under Muwatalli’s reform” (p. 43). Furthermore, Singer (2006), revisiting a previous hypothesis by S.  Alp (1995), suggests that Tarḫuntašša was located in Kızıldağ, south-central Anatolia, where hieroglyphic inscriptions were found which cite the “Great king,” Ḫartapu, son of Muršili.  11 In this “neglected” corner of Anatolia a number of small Neo-Hittite kingdoms would arise in the Iron Age that may also have represented the heritage of Tarḫuntašša. 12 In a similar way to the “new.” kingdom of Tarḫuntašša, Karkamiš’s kingdom seems to have become increasingly powerful during the second half of the 13th century, not only in the North-Syrian region, but also in the more complex Hittite imperial system (cf. Dalley 2000; Mora and Giorgieri 2004: 19 ff.; d’Alfonso 2007): it maintained an important political and cultural role in the region after the end of the Hittite Empire (Hawkins 2002: 148). Various scholars, with different points of view, have dealt with the theme of continuity of Hittite culture into the post-Hittite and Neo-Hittite periods. We will provide some significant examples. In an important contribution published in 1981, S.  Mazzoni emphasizes that the continuity, with respect to Imperial Hittite and Mitannian traditions, is attested by artistic documents from the area between the Afrin river and Karkamiš, extending to the Zincirli plain and even further North. Mazzoni also discusses possible reasons for this continuity, starting from the absence of a historical interruption in this area between the Late Bronze Age and the Iron Age, which may have led to economic and cultural progress, certainly favoured by the proximity to the iron deposits in the Amanus, Toros and Cappadocia regions. These observations, re-examined by Mazzoni in subsequent studies, 13 are all the 11.  Cf. Hawkins 1995: 103ff.; Hawkins 2000: 433ff. According to recent studies, the inscriptions can be dated to the final phase of the Empire period (cf. Singer 1996; Sürenhagen 2008; Giorgieri and Mora 2010). 12.  On evidence of continuity on Southern Cappadocia, also testified by material culture, see Mora 2010; Mora and d’Alfonso 2012. 13.  Cf. in particular Mazzoni 2000, where elements that testify continuity or change are emphasized.

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more important due to the fact that they were made before the great discovery (1986) of the seal of Kuzi-Teššup, king of Karkamiš, which led to a sort of “chain reaction.”  14 In fact, following this discovery, a famous contribution by J. D. Hawkins (1988) re-dated some royal monuments and inscriptions in the Malatya region to the 12th–11th centuries (cf. also Hawkins 2003: 146ff.; Singer 2005: 443–44). In addition, Singer states that “It is more evident now that the architectural, sculptural and inscriptional traditions of the Neo-Hittite states were directly derived from those of the Hittite Empire, without a considerable gap between them” (Singer 2005: 443–44). In a more recent study by S. Aro (2010) called “Luwians in Aleppo?” the author says the following about the Luwians in North Syria: “One of the most interesting phenomena is the continuity of certain Hittite artistic features combined with the exclusive use of the Hieroglyphic Luwian language and writing system instead of the digraphic system of Empire Period Hittites.” Later, Aro continues: “They [i.e., the Luwian-speaking Hittites] carried on the Hittite heritage combining it not only with the Hieroglyphic scribal tradition but also with many features from the local Syrian and Hurrian artistic traditions.” This evidence of continuity is interpreted both by Aro and Mazzoni as the survival of a local tradition which had begun in the Late Bronze Age. S. Aro (2010: 4) concludes by saying that “Indeed, the Neo-Hittite city-states with their urban planning, buildings with portal figures, relief orthostats and Hieroglyphic Luwian inscriptions can be regarded as a continuation of this style further developed by the Luwian-speaking Hittites.” In an interesting contribution from 2001, entitled “Mnemohistory in Syro-Hittite Iconography,” D. Bonatz examines the ways in which the Neo-Hittite political entities formed their ideologies and reconstructed their tradition; in particular, he focuses on the visual concepts and the role they played “as a mnemonic aid to develop collective memory.” According to the author, a key-role in the transformational process during the first two centuries after the end of the Hittite Empire was played by the ancestors, who functioned as tutelary gods, and by the building of new cities. 15 At the end of the article, Bonatz places the focus on examples of “negative historical discourse.” He quotes, for example, a passage from the Phoenician inscription of Kilamuwa of Sam’al: “I am Kilamuwa, son of Hayya. Gabbar became king over Ja’udi, but accomplished nothing, there was BMH, but he accomplished nothing, then there was my father Hayya, but he accomplished nothing, . . . But I, Kilamuwa, son of Hayya, what I accomplished not even the predecessors accomplished.” According to Bonatz (2001: 76), “this ideology of historical perception clearly replaced the older concept of the Hittite Empire period, when the ideal of historiography was described by the formula: “nothing to take away, nothing to add.” . . . But in the period of the Luwian and Aramaean states the new idea was to accomplish what no one had done before.” Regarding this subject, the author refers to H. Cancik (1970). However, in a more recent contribution, Cancik provided another view on Luwian historiography. Referring to “Die luwische Historiographie.” H.  Cancik (2002) finds formulas and topoi in the Neo-Hittite hieroglyphic inscriptions that go back to the Hittite Imperial texts, both cuneiform and hieroglyphic (for example: “keiner meiner Väter, Großväter, Ahnen hat dies geleistet” (Apology of Ḫattušili III: cf. Cancik 2002:80). In 14.  As Singer (2005: 433) calls it. 15.  On the ideological and symbolic function of the decorated gateway in the new post-Hittite foundations, see Mazzoni 1993: 331ff.

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addition, we may also quote the YALBURT inscription: “And to these countries the Great kings of Ḫatti, my fathers (and) grandfathers, no one had run” (Block 4, § 2: cf. Hawkins 1995: 68–69). With reference to the TOPADA archaizing royal inscription (second half of the 8th century b.c.) Cancik observes that “Der Schreiber muß also archaische Texte gekannt haben,” and wonders what “die formalen und inhaltlichen Quellen für diese Inschrift” were and “wie fest und breit ist die literargeschichtliche Kontinuität der hieroglyphenluwischen Historiographie der Spätzeit sowohl zur hieroglyphenluwischen als auch keilschriftlichen der Großreichszeit” (Cancik 2002: 80). 16 In brief, some scholars have suggested that some Neo-Hittite monuments and hieroglyphic inscriptions may represent the continuity of the Late Bronze culture of the Hittite Empire period. In addition, H. Cancik has suggested that there are analogies between some formulas and contents of the celebratory inscriptions of the Neo-Hittite rulers and some historiographical texts dating to the final phase of the Hittite Empire. This hypothesis was recently developed by Z. Simon in an article that was published in 2011. According to this scholar “die spätbronzezeitlichen monumentalen hieroglyphen-luwischen Herrscherinschriften .  .  . sind in der hethitischen Historiographie fest verankert . . . und könnten die Vermittlerrolle für die späthethitischen Staaten gespielt haben” (Simon 2011: 231). Therefore, we would like to continue this preliminary survey on this topic by considering the final phase of Hittite history, when some interesting changes and innovations appear in the written records. In fact, these changes may have laid the foundations for some of the cultural features in the subsequent period. 3. During the last period of the Hittite Empire a decrease of the number of historiographical cuneiform texts can be observed. Within the ambitious political program of Ḫattušili III, the textual genre of the Annals was abandoned; then, during the reigns of the last Hittite kings, the royal propaganda was entrusted to the hieroglyphic inscriptions: this “new” script seems to be privileged for communicating the ideology of the last kings. 17 The two best-preserved political hieroglyphic inscriptions from the Imperial Age, YALBURT and SÜDBURG, present some analogies with the cuneiform Annals of the previous kings. 18 Yet they also display many differences. In the hieroglyphic inscriptions only the Great King is acting with the help of the gods (other names of human beings are lacking) and the initial formula is modified in comparison with the cuneiform documentation. In the historiographical or political cuneiform texts the initial formula is “Thus says My Majesty, the King PN, Great King, King of Ḫatti . . .” whereas the YALBURT inscription begins with name, titles and genealogy of the king Tuthaliya 19 and the SÜDBURG text is introduced by “When” (the name of the king is only mentioned in the second paragraph). 20 But we would 16.  For the analogies between the Fluchformeln in the Neo-Hittite inscriptions and in the Hittite and Neo-Assyrian testimonies (with the Neo-Hittite inscriptions acting as an intermediary?), see also Starke 1995: 71 fn. 4. 17.  Cf. Giorgieri and Mora 1996; Mora 1999a; Bolatti Guzzo and Marazzi 2004. 18.  Cf. the reports on the military campaigns, or the frequent references to the protection of the Storm-God. 19.  Cf. Hawkins 1995: 68ff. 20.  Cf. Hawkins 1995: 22 ff. See also Hawkins 1990: 310, on the style of the whole texts: “The text is formulated in a familiar style evolved in Mesopotamia throughout the 3rd and 2nd millennia B.C.” Cf. Mora 1999a.

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like to draw particular attention to the NİŞANTAŞ inscription (cf. the translation proposed by Laroche (1969–70)), which begins with the words: “I (am) the . . . (titles), Šuppiluliuma, Great King, King of Ḫatti . . .” This introductory formula, which is typical of the Neo-Hittite period, does not have any parallels in the royal texts of the 2nd millennium. 21 The NİŞANTAŞ inscription therefore seems to anticipate the features of the later hieroglyphic inscriptions. It is indeed likely that the crucial political and cultural role played by the Luwian south territories during the last period of the Hittite Empire (see above, § 2) and the use of the hieroglyphic inscriptions had consequences on the following phase. The Neo-Hittite evidence of continuity can thus be interpreted not only as cultural heritage from the Empire period, but also as persistence of a (hieroglyphic?) scribal and artistic culture that for centuries had been deeply-rooted in the area. 22 Rulers, scribes and officials of the Empire administration may have continued their activity, independently from a central power that no longer existed, using the traditional means. 23 Additionally, the visibility of the ancient hieroglyphic inscriptions and of the ancient reliefs may have played an important role in the persistence of political administrative traditions and cultural features of the Empire period. 24 In our opinion therefore, the greatest problem is not whether there is continuity between the first phase of the Neo-Hittite period and the last phase of the imperial period, but rather when, or even up to when the memory of the Empire is preserved and when traditions begin to change. Indeed, as time passes and with the influx of other cultures, the memory of the Empire fades and a new era begins. So far we have mainly dealt with continuity and tradition. So what about memory? Was there awareness of the link with the past? Was there knowledge of the importance of that past and of the great Empire that existed three centuries before? What could have supported this memory? The oral tradition alone was probably not enough. Maybe impressive architecture of temples, palaces, ḫékur were still visible. As we said above, it is very likely that the hieroglyphic inscriptions of the Great Hittite kings were still visible two or three centuries later, and in that period they were therefore one of the main ways of knowing the past. It is also possible that NA4

21.  With the exception of KBo 12. 38 II 22’ ff., which probably represents its cuneiform copy. Cf. Mora 1999a for comments. In addition to the initial formula “I am,” another specific feature of the NIŞANTAŞ inscription is represented by the use of the title “King of Ḫatti,” which is lacking in other hieroglyphics inscriptions of the Great Kings (cf. Mora 1999b). 22.  In a broader sense, we can wonder whether the traces of social and cultural change, that are also evident in the new post-Hittite era, represent a real innovation, or whether they represent the appearance of different models of social organisation that already existed, but that were not expressed in the imperial scribal tradition (and therefore in the available sources). 23.  For the issues of the training of scribes in the post-Hittite period and availability of the previous archives, cf. Simon 2011: 230. On the continuity of the use of some titles of officials and dignitaries from the Hittite to the post-Hittite period, see Jasink 1998, and Giusfredi 2010: 117ff. 24.  Cf. Giusfredi 2010: 32 “Neo-Hittite states were the adaptation of formerly local subsets of the southern kingdoms of the Hittite area of influence: Karkemiš, Tarhuntašša, Aleppo [. . .] In other words, they were simply a natural outcome of the southern part of Anatolian culture at the end of the Bronze Age.” We may add that in some cases another hypothesis is possible: we do not know if there were any relations between the Neo-Hittite states and, if so, we cannot determine the nature of these relations. However, if the Neo-Hittite states were related in any way, then some testimonies that seem to derive from a “vertical.” tradition, could instead derive from “horizontal” (i.e., contemporary) influences. It is therefore possible, in some cases, for the transmission of Hittite culture not to be direct but mediated by some centers where the ancient traditions were better preserved.

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the scribes who were experts in hieroglyphic writing knew that the places where they lived and worked were part of the great Hittite Empire in previous times. Numerous royal inscriptions that marked the territory 25 in many places cited, in fact, the “Great Kings of Ḫatti.” and displayed their symbols of power. The problem of the geographical term Ḫatti that was used to refer to some Anatolian Iron Age kingdoms in Assyrian (and other) sources could also be included in this discussion. The imperial royal inscriptions scattered in the territory may have been the starting point for the persistence of the term, at least at first; then this local tradition may have been passed to Assyrians who would have used the term “Ḫatti.” especially with reference to Karkamiš and the North-Syrian area. 26 Considering the complexity of the subject, we will undoubtedly continue our investigation on these issues in the near future. 25. It is likely that we only have a small part of them, originally they were probably far more numerous. 26.  Regarding this issue, see the careful examination by Hawkins (1972–75).

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Bolatti Guzzo, N., and Marazzi, M. 2004 Storiografia ittita e geroglifico anatolico: per una revisione di KBo 12. 38. Pp. 155–185 in Šarnikzel. Hethitologische Studien zum Gedenken an Emil Orgetorix Forrer. DBH 10. Edited by D. Groddek, and S. Rößle. Dresden: Verlag der Technischen Universität Dresden. Bonatz, D. 2001 Mnemohistory in Hittite Iconography. Pp.  65–77 in Historiography in the Cuneiform World. Proceedings of the XLVe Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale. Edited by T. Abusch, et al. Bethesda: CDL Press. Cancik, H. 1970 Mythische und historische Wahrheit. Stuttgart: Verlag Kath. Bibelwerk. 2002 Die luwische Historiographie. Geschichtsschreibung vor den Griechen II.  Pp.  78–81 in Die Hethiter und ihr Reich. Das Volk der 1000 Götter. Katalog der Ausstellung, Bonn 18. Januar–28. April 2002. Stuttgart: Theiss-Verlag. d’Alfonso, L. 2007 The Treaty Between Talmi-Teššup King of Karkemiš and Šuppilulyama Great King of Ḫatti. Pp. 203–220 in Tabularia Hethaeorum–Hethitologische Beiträge Silvin Košak zum 65. Geburstag. Edited by D. Groddek, and M. Zorman. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag. Dalley, S. 2000 Shamshu-ilu, Language and Power in the Western Assyrian Empire. Pp. 79–88 in Essays on Syria in the Iron Age. ANES Supplement 7. Edited by G. Bunnens. Louvain–Paris– Sterling, Virginia: Peeters. Dodd, L. S. 2007 Strategies for Future Success: Remembering the Hittites during the Iron Age. AnSt 57: 203–216. Erll, A., and Nünning, A. (eds.) 2008 Media and Cultural Memory / Medien und kulturelle Erinnerung. Berlin–New York: Walter de Gruyter. Faist, B. 2002 Die Rechtsordnung in Syrien nach der hethitischen Eroberung: Wandel und Kontinuität. Pp. 129–145 in Brückenland Anatolien? Ursachen, Extensität und Modi des Kulturaustausches zwischen Anatolien und seinen Nachbarn. Edited by H. Blum, et al. Tübingen: Attempto. Genz, H. 2003 The Early Iron Age in Central Anatolia. Pp. 179–191 in Identifying Changes: the Transition from Bronze to Iron Ages in Anatolia and its Neighbouring Regions. Proceedings of the International Workshop, Istanbul, November 8–9, 2002. Edited by B. Fischer, et al. Istanbul: Ege Yayinlan. Giorgieri, M., and Mora, C. 1996 Aspetti della regalità ittita nel XIII sec. a. C. Como: Edizioni New Press. 2010 Kingship in Hatti during the 13th Century: Forms of Rule and Struggles for Power before the Fall of the Empire. Pp. 136–157 in Pax Hethitica. Studies on Hittites and their Neighbours in Honour of Itamar Singer. StBot 51. Edited by Y. Cohen, A. Gilan, and J. L. Miller. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag. Giusfredi, F. 2010 Sources for a Socio-Economic History of the Neo-Hittite States. THeth 28. Heidelberg: Universitätsverlag Winter. Halbwachs, M. 1994 Les cadres sociaux de la mémoire. Paris: Albin Michel (1st edition: 1925). 1997 La mémoire collective. Édition critique établie par Gérard Namer. Paris: Albin Michel (1st edition: 1950). Hawkins, J. D. 1972–75 Ḫatti: The 1st Millennium. RlA 4: 152–159. 1988 Kuzi-Teššup and the “Great Kings” of Karkamiš. AnSt 38: 99–108. 1990 The New Inscription from Südburg Boğazköy-Ḫattuša. AA: 305–314.

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1995 The Hieroglyphic Inscription of the Sacred Pool Complex at Hattusa. With an archaeological introduction by P. Neve. StBoT Beiheft 3. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag. 2000 Corpus of the Hieroglyphic Luwian Inscriptions. Volume I: Inscriptions of the Iron Age. Berlin–New York: Walter de Gruyter. 2002 Anatolia: The End of the Hittite Empire and After. Pp. 144–151 in Die nahöstlichen Kulturen und Griechenland an der Wende vom 2. zum 1. Jahrtausend v.  Chr. Kontinuität und Wandel von Strukturen und Mechanismen kultureller Interaktion. Kolloquium des Sonderforschungsbereiches 295 “Kulturelle und sprachliche Kontakte.” der Johannes Gutenberg-Universität Mainz, 11.–12. Dezember 1998. Edited by E. A. Braun-Holzinger, and H. Matthäus. Möhnesee: Bibliopolis. 2003 Script and Texts. Pp.  128–169 in The Luwians. HbO I/68. Edited by H.  C. Melchert. Leiden–Boston: Brill. Jasink, A. M. 1998 Titolature ufficiali in età neo-hittita. SMEA 40: 87–104. Laroche, E. 1969–70 Nişantaş. Anatolica 3: 94–98. Liverani, M. 2010 Parole di bronzo, di pietra, d’argilla. Scienze dell’Antichità 16: 27–62. Lotman, J. M., and Uspenskij, B. A. 1975 Tipologia della cultura. Italian edition by R. Faccani and M. Marzaduri. Milano: Bompiani. Mazzoni, S. 1981 Gli stati neo-ittiti e l’“età oscura” fattori geoeconomici di uno sviluppo culturale. EVO 4: 311–341. 1993 Aramaean and Luwian New Foundations. Pp.  331–333 in Nuove fondazioni nel Vicino Oriente Antico: realtà e ideologia. Edited by S. Mazzoni. Pisa: Giardini. 2000 Crisis and Change: The Beginning of the Iron Age in Syria. Pp. 1043–1056 in Proceedings of the first International Congress of the Archaeology of the Near East. Edited by P. Matthiae. Roma. Mora, C. 1992 Artistes, artisans et scribes entre Kargamiš et Ḫatti au XIIIe siècle. Pp. 241–249 in La circulation des biens, des personnes et des idées dans le Proche-Orient ancien. Actes de la XXXVIIIe Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale (Paris, 8–10 juillet 1991). Edited by D. Charpin, and F. Joannès. Paris: Editions Recherche sur les Civilisations (ERC). 1998 Osservazioni sull’uso del “geroglifico anatolico” in Siria nel II millennio a. C. pp. 195–218 in Il geroglifico anatolico. Sviluppi della ricerca a venti anni dalla sua “ridecifrazione” (Atti del colloquio Napoli-Procida 1995). Edited by M. Marazzi. Napoli: I. U. O. Napoli. 1999a Una nuova scrittura per la storia. Iscrizioni monumentali nell’ultimo periodo dell’impero ittita. Pp.  23–41 in Presentazione e scrittura della storia: storiografia, epigrafi, monumenti. Atti del Convegno di Pontignano (aprile 1996). Edited by E. Gabba. Como: Edizioni New Press. 1999b Il titolo “re del paese di. . .” tra II e I millennio a. C. in Anatolia e Siria. Pp. 57–64 in Landscapes. Territories, Frontiers and Horizons in the Ancient Near East–Papers presented to the XLIV Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale, Venezia, 7–11 July 1997. Part II: Geography and Cultural Landscapes. Edited by L. Milano, et al. Padova: S. A. R. G. O. N. 2010 Studies on Ancient Anatolia at Pavia University, and the Hittite Lower Land. Pp. 13–25 in Geo-archaeological Activities in Southern Cappadocia (Turkey). StMed 22. Edited by L. d’Alfonso, M. E. Balza and C. Mora. Pavia: Italian University Press. Mora, C., and d’Alfonso, L. 2012 Anatolia after the End of the Hittite Empire. New Evidence from Southern Cappadocia. Origini 34: 385–98. Mora, C., and Giorgieri, M. 2004 Le lettere tra i re ittiti e i re assiri ritrovate a Ḫattuša. Padova: S. A. R. G. O. N. Ricoeur, P. 2000 La mémoire, l’histoire, l’oubli. Paris: Éditions du Seuil.

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Fortifications and Arming as Analytical Elements for a Social-Policy Evolution in Anatolia in the Early Bronze Age Tommaso De Vincenzi Roma

Analyzing the Anatolian settlements towards a development of state organization during the third millennium b.c., we can observe that it is affected by a very long hiatus and peculiarities, which could be described as standard. In western Anatolia, the origin in the Early Bronze Age II of a first social differentiation and the relative rising of elite groups, in fact, points out that it is directly joined to the expansion of a monumental architecture and to differentiated funerary equipments. This change, for the above mentioned communities, from an egalitarian social system to a hierarchical-verticistic form of government, represented by the growing, contextually to the transition from the Early Bronze Age I to the Early Bronze Age II, at the palatial complexes of Küllüoba, 1 Aizanoi, 2 Bademağaacı 3 and KarataşSemayük, 4 appears to be evolving towards the background of a cohesive cultural homogeneity (fig. 1). It is possible to notice the change in the principle of topographical homologation of Anatolian sites towards a standardized settling pattern, which provides the arrangement of the houses with megaron plant set side by side lying against the inner face of a fortification wall, in a radius layout around a circular or square central court, named “Anatolischesiedlungschema” (fig. 2). 5 This cultural cohesion manifests itself in the process of standardization of the palatial architecture to a very identical urban planning. A comparative analysis with the topography of these complexes shows they are designed around one or more mansions joined to a series of service rooms with megaroid plant placed around a 1.  Efe, T., and Fidan, E., 2008—Complex two in Early Bronze Age II upper town of Küllüoba near Eskişehir, Anatolica 34, pp. 67–80. 2.  Lochner, I., and Ay, D. Ş. M., 2001—Die frühbronzezeitlichen Siedlungsbefunde in Aizanoi. Vorbericht über die Kampagnen 1997 bis 1999, Archäologischer Anzeiger 2001, pp. 269–294. 3.  Duru, R., and Umurtak, G., 2008—Excavations at Bademağacı: a report of the Campaigns of the years 2004: 2005 and 2006, Belleten 72, pp. 217–250 4.  Mellink, M., 1964—Excavations at Karataş-Semayük in Lycia 1963, AJA 68, pp. 269–278; 1965: 69, pp. 241–251; 1966, AJA 70, pp. 246–257; 1967, AJA 71, pp. 251–267; 1968, AJA 72, pp. 243–263; 1969, AJA 73, pp. 319–331; 1970, AJA 74, pp. 245–260; 1971, AJA 75, pp. 245–246; 1972, AJA 76, pp. 257–261. 5.  Korfmann, M., 1983—Demirci Hüyük. Die Ergebnisse der Ausgrabungen 1975—1978. Architektur, Stratigraphie und Befunde, Band I, p. 313.

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common central space, like in Küllüoba, 6 or alternately, as in the case of KarataşSemayük 7 and Bademağaacı, 8 according to the radial outline mentioned above, on the ground of a radius layout to the principal building. On the basis of the huge widespread of this urban planning around the area in the İznik lake, passing through the Afyon-Ermidağ region, extending to the Elmalı lowlands, defined as “inland western Anatolia”, 9 and based on the partial uniformity of the material culture, that is manifested by the serial contours of the so called “razors”, 10 or by the small daggers with twisted tang 11 and by the “diadems” 12 in thin layer of metal found in the cemeteries of Karataş-Semayük, Kaklık Mevkii, Sarıket and Küçükhöyük, then, this area appears as cultural autonomous community. A koiné, however, in which all settlements, as represented by the localism of their ware industry, coexist and interact among them through an interdependent relationship, maintaining a clear independence in conformity with the theory of the “Gruppen Ware.” 13 The structural network for the management and administration of a diversified economy, organized on the model mansion–lateral rooms, where these were used as workshop or stores, as resulting by the amount of loom weights and by the high rates of pots found inside the Building MRB 2 on Bademağaacı, 14 it seems clearly to indicate how the emergence of socially distinct groups coincided with the concentration of wealth. Polarization, seems to be the primary source for the establishment of these mansions. The evolution, then, in the Early Bronze Age II of the Anatolian communities from an egalitarian social organization towards an elitist, structured and public form of government, as said, on the base of monumental, representative-administrative places, underlines a clear break with the previous phase. The genesis of this radical conversion can probably be ascribed to two interdependent themes: improvement of metallurgy industry and set up of the primary urban centres along the principal 6.  Efe-Fidan 2008, fig. 1. 7.  Mellink 1972, Ill. 4. 8.  Ibid. Duru-Umurtak 2008, Pl. 29 and Pl. 31. 9.  Efe, T., and Fidan, M. E., 2006—Pre-Middle Bronze Age metal objects from inland western Anatolia. A typological and chronological evaluation, Anatolia Antiqua/Eski Anadolu 14, p. 16. 10.  Mellink 1966, Pl. 77, fig. 19; 1961, Grave No. 152, Pl. 77, fig. 16; Grave No. 156, Pl. 77, fig. 18; 1968, Grave No. 355, Pl. 74, fig. 20. Topbaş, A., Efe, T., and İlasli, A., 1998—Salvage excavations of the Afyon archaeological museum, part 2: the settlement of Karaoğlan Mevkii and the Early Bronze Age cemetery of Kaklık Mevkii, Anatolia Antiqua 6, pp. 21–94, Grave No. 8, fig. 71, 152. Seeher, J., 1992—Die Nekropole von Demircihüyük-Sarıket. Grabungskampagne 1991, Istanbuler Mitteilungen 42, pp. 5–19, Grave No. 421, fig. 5, 3. 11. Ibid. Mellink 1966, Trench 18 Pl. 77, fig. 19. Güngör, G., and Seeher, J., 1991—Die Frühbronzezeitliche Nekropole von Küçükhöyük bei Bozüyük, Istanbuler Mitteilungen 41, pp. 39–96, Grave No. 26 A, Pl. 15.19. Cf. also Lloyd, S., and Mellaart, J., 1962—Beycesultan Vol. I. The Chalcolithic and Early Bronze Age Levels (London), fig. F 9. 12.  Seeher 1992, Grave 350, fig. 7, 2. Güngör-Seeher 1991, Grave No. 11, Pl. 15.11; Grave No. 42, Pl. 15.12; Grave No. 86, Pl. 15.13; Grave No. 98, Pl. 15.14; Grave No. 124, Pl. 15.15; Grave No. 125, Pl. 15.16; Grave No. 150, Pl. 15.17. Mellink 1969, Pl. 57. 13.  For the distribution of the Early Bronze Age II pottery groups in western Anatolia see: Efe, T., 2002. The interaction between cultural/political entities and metalworking in western Anatolia during the Chalcolithic and Early Bronze Ages, Anatolian Metal 2, pp. 49–65, fig. 4. 14. Umurtak, G., 2010—Questions arising from a bulla found in the EBA II settlement at Bademağacı, Adalya XIII, pp. 19–27, fig. 3.

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trade routes from and towards the central Anatolia’s prolific fields and the Cilicia’s plain. 15 Regarding the first question it can be clearly observed, on the basis of a comparative analysis of the metal finds from the settlements in the Early Bronze Age I (Table 1) and the funeral deposits in the Early Bronze Age II of the “inland western Anatolian’s” necropolis (Table 2, p.  442), especially in the last period a considerable enhancement of metals. 16 Such enhancement could be rooted in the contemporary process of nationalization.

Demircihüyük

Beycesultan

Total

Table 1.  Metal finds from Demircihüyük and Beycesultan in the Early Bronze Age I (adapted from Efe-Fidan 2006, Table 2).

Tools

5

3

8

Weapons Jewelry Total

5

5

10

3

3 21

This supposed correlation between the rising of metal production and the growth of catalytic settlements of economy with smaller surrounding sites, in fact, seems to be supported by the hypothetical relation between them and the centres located very close to the rich mining areas of the north-central Anatolia. 17 One of the main elements of this theory is represented by the stylistic parallels amongst the sites in the Ankara district as Polatlı (phase Ia-Ib) 18 and Ahlatlıbel  19 or Asarcık Hüyük near Ilica (level V) 20 and the Eskişehir region ware production. A resemblance is shown by the presence of local ceramic shapes coming from the upper course of the Sangarius river, but spread also southwards, such as the 15.  An improvement that results too in the Early Bronze Age III, as indicated by the trade-route so-called “Great Caravan Route” that, from the Cilicia’s Plain, ran north-westward passing through the plains of Afyon, the valley of the Upper Sakarya and the plains of Iznik and İnegol. Cf. Efe, T., 2007— The theories of the “Great Caravan Route” between Cilicia and Troy: the Early Bronze Age III period in inland western Anatolia, Anatolian Studies 57, pp. 47–64, fig. 17a. 16.  Efe, T., and Erkan, F., 2006—Pre-Middle Bronze Age metal objects from inland western Anatolia, Anatolia Antiqua/Eski Anadolu 14, pp. 15–43, Tab. 3. 17.  Regarding the areas of copper exploitation in central Anatolia in the Early Bronze Age: De Jesus, P., 1978—Metal resources in ancient Anatolia, Anatolian Studies 28, pp. 97–102, fig. 1; see also Wagner, G. A., and Öztunali, Ö., 2000—Prehistoric copper sources in Turkey, Anatolian Metal 1, pp. 31–68, fig. 2. 18.  Lloyd, S., and Gökçe, N., 1951—Excavations at Polatlı. A New investigation of second and third millennium stratigraphy in Anatolia, Anatolian Studies Vol. I 1, pp. 21–76. 19.  Zübeyr, H., 1934—Ahlatlıbel Hafriyatı, Türk Tarih, Arkeologya ve Etnografia Dergisi Vol. II, pp. 3–100. 20.  Orthmann, W., 1966—Untersuchungen auf dem Asarcık Hüyük bei Ilica, Istanbuler Mitteilungen 16, pp. 27–88, fig. 1–8.

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3

Awls

4

Tools

Blades

2

Chisels Razors

2

1

Total

9

Karataş Semayük

Küçükhöyük

Needles

Kaklık Mevkii

Sarıket

Table 2.  Metal finds from “inland western Anatolian’s” necropolis in the Early Bronze Age II. (adapted from Efe-Fidan 2006, table 3).

1

13

2

6

1

3

1

1

4

7

Stamp seal Hammer

1

1

Weapons

Spindle whorl Axes Daggers 1

Maceheads

3

Jewelry

Bracelets

Vessels Total

1

4

11

45

71

9

3

8

20

59

5

Diadems

27

7

Beak-spouted jug

4

15

Pins

Bottles

3

1

Torque

Studs

1 3

1

Spearheads Rings

1 3

3 26 1

3

2

1

1

35

101

2

36

4

7 29 1 307

so-called “bowls with vertical loop-handles” and “jars with rising lips and vertical loop-handles.” 21 A further element for this theory is moreover indicated by the apparent homologation of the Ahlatlıbels 22 urban-planning to the radius pattern mentioned above. 21.  For the analogies of the Eskişehir ware production with central Anatolia for the Early Bronze Age II period see: Efe, T., 1988—Demircihüyük. Die Ergebnisse der Ausgrabungen 1975—1978. Die Keramik 2. Die Frühbronzezeitliche Keramik der Jüngeren Phasen (ab Phase H). Band III, 2 (Tübingen) pp. 12–79, 89–108; Efe, T., and Ay, D. Ş. M., 2000—Early Bronze Age pottery from Küllüoba near Seyitgazi, Eskişehir, Anatolia Antiqua/Eski Anadolu 8, pp. 1–87; cf. also Orthmann, W., 1963—Die Keramik der Frühen Bronzezeit aus Inneranatolien, Istanbuler Forschungen 24. 22.  Korfmann 1983, pp. 225–226, fig. 359.

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According to the available data it seems to be uncertain the hypothesis, putted forward also for Polatlı, which identifies the settlements close to the Yapraklı mining group 23 as trading-posts, directly ruled by the western palatial complexes, for the exchange of raw materials. A first evidence for this hypothesis can be found in the different cultural origins of these two hemispheres. In compliance with this principle, in fact, in the ritual custom of folding up the metal components of funeral deposits such as daggers or knives as well as wrapping up metal axes in a cloth, 24 at the time of their inhumation, the cultural autonomy of central plateau clearly stands out. A tradition illustrated by the later tomb “A” of Horoztepe, 25 is also spread among the centres facing the Black Sea shore. Another main element which seems to advise that discontinuity is represented by the use in the Ahlatlıbel fortification wall of the “kasten” building technique. A technique that totally differs from the “böschung” one, typical of the western regions defence system. 26 Above all it is the absence of comparison for the profiles of the metal axes joined to the Ahlatlıbel, 27 Resuloğlu, 28 Kalınkaya Toptaştepe 29 and Alaca Höyük 30 graves that demonstrate the excellence of the local metallurgical industry. As we can infer from the archaeological context of the mining site of Göltepe Kestel, 31 this specialization could probably evolve in relation to the growing of qualified centres for digging and metal working, which were ruled in turn by a central authority. If this hypothesis proves correct it would argue for the penetration of Western elements in the mining districts of the city, as related to the sales of metals, rather than to the permanent presence of outer groups settled in basis, established and depending on the large palatial complexes of the “inland western Anatolia.” This does not exclude, however, the hypothesis for transitory settlements, of seasonal type, with the setting of the so-called “frontier-centres” as, for example, Polatlı, for merchants or itinerant craftsmen. This trading then pursued a route that, from the Halys, following the course of the Sangarius river, went up to west to the Eskişehir lowlands and also further up to the Balıkesir region. One of the main arguments that supporting this analysis comes out detecting the homogeneous outline of definite varieties of metal weapons as daggers with lanceolate blade and thick mid-rib, found in the grave “K” at 23.  De Jesus 1978, fig. 1. 24.  An example for the ritual custom of wrapping up metal objects in a cloth was registered in the cemetery of Kalınkaya-Toptaştepe (Grave No. M-1–73), near Alaca Höyük: Zimmermann, T., 2007— Kalınkaya-Toptaştepe, eine chalkolithisch-frühbronzezeitliche Siedlung mit Nekropole im nördliche Zentralanatolien: Die Grabfunde der Kampagnen von 1971 und 1973, Istanbuler Mitteilungen 57, p. 18, fig. 9a. 25.  Özgüç, T., and Akok, M., 1958—Horoztepe. Eski Tunç Devri Mezarlığı ve İskân Yeri. An Early Bronze Age settlement and cemetery (Ankara). 26. De Vincenzi, T., Fortification walls. Development and conformation of Anatolian “Saw-tooth wall”, “Kastenmauer” “Casematte” defence systems, and their building techniques in the Bronze Age, 4th International Congress on the archaeology of the Ancient Near East. Ed. by H. Kühne et alii (Wiesbaden). Vol. I, pp. 309–321. 27.  Zübeyr 1934, p. 95. 28.  Yıldırım, T., 2006—An early Bronze Age cemetery at Resuloğlu near Uğurludağ, Çorum. A preliminary report of the archaeological work carried out between years 2003—2005, Anatolia Antiqua/ Eski Anadolu 14, pp. 1–15, fig. 14. 29.  Zimmermann 2007, fig. 9 a-b. 30.  Koşay, H. Z., 1951—Les fouilles d’Alaca Höyük entreprises par la societè d’Histoire Turque: raport preliminere sur les travaux en 1937—1939, Turk Tarih Kurumu Basimevi, Grave K, Pl. CLXXXIV, 1. 31.  Yener, A., 2000—The domestication of metals: The rise of complex metal industries in Anatolia. Leiden-Boston: Brill.

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Alaca Höyük 32 and at Bayındırköy in the Balıkesir region, 33 or metal axes with peen with “bell” shape, found in the Sarıket 34 and Yortan cemeteries 35 and at Polatlı, 36 yet again mace heads with prominences with “mushroom” profiles found in the Sarıket cemetery 37 and in the Grave “B” at Alaca Höyük. 38 This stylistic standardization seems to mark out the direction on which the raw materials flowed. 39 This flow was likely provided by the western palatial centres, such as Küllüoba, on which they made use of their powering catalyst according to their strategic arrangement. This latter issue, moreover, leads to a further matter to discuss. The comparative analysis among the relative amount of weapons and their heterogonous distribution in the spaces close up to the walls and to the city-gates in the western fortified settlements in Anatolia in the Early Bronze Age I (Table 3) and II (Table 4), seems to confirm the picture of a not yet stratified society, because of the absence of states apparatus such as the military one. The lack of a primary component such as the army in the settlement, is clearly represented, moreover by the constant association between weapon deposits, tools and other objects. An association that, at the same time, leaves out the presence of defence organization or armoury. Table 3.  Distribution of archaeological material in the western Anatolia fortified settlements of Poliochni Blue, Troy I Middle, and Demircihüyük D-K2 in the Early Bronze Age I.

32.  Koşay 1951: Pl. CLXXXIII, 2. 33.  Bittel, K., 1955—Einige Kleinfunde aus Mysien und aus Kilikien, Istanbuler Mitteilungen 6, pp. 113–118, fig. 1.1 34.  Seeher, J. 2000—Die bronzezeitliche Nekropole von Demircihüyük-Sarıket: Ausgrabungen des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts in Zusammenarbeit mit dem Museum Bursa 1990—1991, Istanbuler Forschungen Band 44, Grave No. 494, fig. 49 b. 35.  Kâmil, T., 1982—Yortan Cemetery in the Early Bronze Age of western Anatolia, BAR Series 145, fig. fig. 88, 336. 36.  Ibid. Lloyd-Gökçe 1951: fig. 14, 13. 37.  Ibid. Seeher 2000, Grave No. 132, fig. 25 a. 38.  Arık, R. O. 1937—Alaca Höyük hafriyatının ilk neticeleri, Belleten 1, pp. 210–234, Pl. 173. 39.  Further examples for the so-called “Pilzknaufkeulen” from central Anatolia are the not stratified maceheads from Alaçam-Soğukçam and Oymaağaç/Göller; see Zimmermann, T., 2006—Pilzknaufkeulen der anatolischen Frübronzezeit, Eurasia Antiqua 12, pp. 127–135, fig. 1.2,6.

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Table 4.  Distribution of archaeological material in the western Anatolia fortified settlements of Poliochni Green, Thermi I–III, Demircihüyük L-M, and Beycesultan Level XVI–XIII in the Early Bronze Age II.

This scenario leads to the hypothesis of settling pattern depending on proximity of the urban centres to the trading routes and on the control of the natural resources. To verify this theory it is necessary to record the deficiency of weapons in the necropolis towards the amount of metal objects, because this unequal percentage, that on one side appears to prevent the hypothesis of the presence of a military corporation, on the other side shows their character as likely social status (Tab. 5). Table 5.  Distribution of the funerary deposits in the necropolis of “inland western Anatolia” in the Early Bronze Age II.

This hypothetical consideration of the weapons as a status is essentially justified, in fact, by their disparity in the funerary deposits.

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An unequal percentage that configures itself as a first step on the differentiation of the society in classes according to a process of social stratification. The legitimacy of this assumption seems to be correlated to the asymmetrical allotment of wealth because it is through their presence and distribution, that we can understand the transformation for the Anatolians communities of the Early Bronze Age from an elitarian form of government towards societies organized with the hierarchical structure. The primary agent for this supposed and unconventional recognition of the metal weapons as indicative of a social classification, is represented, at the same time, by the stereotyped ritual layout of the tripartite spearheads in the graves of the Early Bronze Age I along the high and middle course of the Euphrates such as the so-called “Royal Tomb” at Arslantepe (S150-T1), 40 Charchemish (Nos. KCG 1,13,15), 41 Hassek Höyük (G12) 42 Birecik, 43 Tell Qara Qūzāq (Graves L-12-E and L-12-W), 44 (fig. 3). This latter provides an uniform arrangement of these spearheads as parallel to the inner border of the pit, as single or coupled, in offset position with blades superimposed, but always facing the front of the dead and vertical to a long side of the grave (figs. 4). A further element that seems to confirm this appellation for these objects is indicated by the partial homologation of the funerary deposits of these tombs. As we can see by a comparison with the funerary gifts from Charchemish, 45 Hassek Höyük, 46 Arslantepe 47 and Birecik, 48 daggers with lanceolate blade, axes with “anchor” shape and mace heads with “bottle” profile 49 seem to be permanently linked to this funeral ritual. Likewise to the above mentioned funeral customs typical of the central plateau the arrangement in a standardized ritual for the components of the burial gifts, configuring the stylistic homogeneity of these elements, proves a development of these communities towards an elitarian form of government. A very important question, however, that raises a disputed issue for its social inference is related to the joining of tripartite spearheads on the graves of children 40. Frangipane, M., Di Nocera, G. M., Hauptmann, A., Morbidelli, P., Palmieri, A., Sadori, L., Schultz, M., and Schmidt, T., 2001—New Symbols of a New Power in a “Royal” Tomb from 3000 BC Arslantepe, Malatya (Turkey), Palèorient 27 Vol. 2, pp. 105–139, figs. 18.1–11. 41.  Woolley, L., 1952—Charchemish. Report on the Excavations at Jerablus on Behalf of the British Museum. Part III. The Excavations in the Inner Town (London), pp. 218–226, Pls. 61 b-c, 56 b. 42.  Behm-Blancke, M. R., 1984—Hassek Höyük. Vorläufiger Bericht über die Ausgrabungen der Jahre 1981—1983. Istanbuler Mitteilungen 34, pp. 31–65, fig. 7. 43.  Sertok, K., and Ergeç, R., 1999—A New Early Bronze Age Cemetery: Excavations near the Birecik Dam, South–Eastern Turkey. Preliminary report (1997—1998), Anatolica 25, pp. 87–107, figs. 10 a-b. 44.  Olávarri, E., 1995—Excavaciones en Tell Qara Qūzāq. Informe provisional: campañas tercera y cuarta (1991—92). Mision arqueológica de la Universidad de Barcelona en Siria, Aula Orientalis 13, pp. 5–14, Grave Nos. L 12 W and L 12 E, fig. 1. 45.  Woolley 1952. 46.  Behm-Blancke 1984. 47.  Frangipane, et. al. 2001. 48.  Sertok-Ergeç 1999; see also Squadrone, F. F., 2000—Metals for the dead. Metal finds from the Birecik Dam Area Early Bronze Age cemetery in the Middle Euphrates area, near Karkemish (Turkey), First International Congress on the Archaeology of the Ancient Near East. Ed. by P. Matthiae et alii (Rome). Vol. II, pp. 1541—1553 and Squadrone 2007—Regional culture and metal objects in the area of Charchemish during the Early Bronze Age, Levant Supplementary Series 5, pp. 198–213. 49.  Woolley 1952, Grave No. KCG 13, Pl. 61 a; ibid. Behm-Blancke 1984, Grave No. G12, fig. 8.3.

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and women as represented by the Charchemish 50 and Qara Qūzāq  51 graves. A funeral custom spread also in the central and western regions as shown by the hammer-axes found in the Sarıket-Demircihüyük, 52 Kalınkaya-Toptaştepe 53 and Ahlatlıbel 54 graves. This, indeed, if on one side seems to confirm this name for the weapons as indicators of status, on the other encourages a comparison between the analytical formulation of an embryonic social development of communities of Anatolia southeastern part of the Early Bronze Age I and that of the rear western counterparts. According to this comparative study it seems to emerge, in fact, a joint picture, which shows through a standardized funeral architecture, the ascent to the top of the community by a single group of persons. The guidelines for this process, in fact, occur primarily in the topography of intramural burials and, secondarily, through the office of a stereotyped ritual, based on the use of metal spears and hammer-axes. But above all it is the ambivalent ritual to lay down weapons inside tombs of women and children as funeral gifts that, if on one side stimulates a deeper consideration on the real reason for the investiture of these instruments like social legitimacy, on the other side proves the pattern of setting yet described. On the base of the analysed data, in fact, also for the urban centres of the south-east Anatolia, as supposed before for the western palatial complexes, looks like manifest also the absence of a permanent army. Even with these communities, therefore, the emergence of an elite class that based their authority on an articulated ideological be amount, has to be associated with a parallel government concerning the trade of raw materials, and curing the economy of the smaller sites The differences between the administrative advances of the “inland western Anatolia” that, as suggested, were subjected to the flow of the trade with the central authority of the mining districts, and their proximity to the roads, and the urban centers of the slope Anatolia south-eastern that had to impose a direct control without intermediary agents of the metallurgical industry. This theory is supported by their proximity to the mining districts, and Ergani Maden, as by the melting activity inside the site that testified by slag founding and equipment like furnace. This melting activity did not come about in the western centres. Assuming that this theory is correct, it will copy the pattern typical of the metallurgical industry in the Kızıl Irmak basin. Furthermore, analog tripartite spearheads from the Chalcolithic cemetery area of Klady in south-eastern Russia (Adigeya Republic) notify on a possible outer cultural influences of Caucasus origin. 55 Further comparisons, moreover, between the Caucasus and the Anatolian inland regions emerge also in relation to others weapon types, like as the so called mace 50.  Woolley 1951, Grave No. KCG 1, Pl. 56, c. 51.  Olávarri 1995. 52.  Seeher 2000, Grave No. 494, fig. 49 b. 53.  Zimmermann 2007, Grave No. M-1–73, fig. 9 a. 54.  Zübeyr 1934, Grave No. 18. 55.  Rezepkin, A. D., 2000—Das frühbronzezeitliche Gräberfeld von Klady und die Majkop-Kultur in Nordwesternkaukasien, Archäologie in Eurasien 10, Kurgan 11, Pl. 16.12.

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head with protuberance, for which in Armenia is found main similar examples. 56 Arguably, the approval of these stylistic variety of instruments seems to reflect, in principle entirely theoretical, a double trade route, which departs from the South Caucasus branches off into two directions: one south towards the district of MalatyaElazığ, and the other one west to central plateau. The presence of two distinct circuits of exchange for metal could also motivate the gap between eastern and western hemisphere that emerges on the basis of the tripartite distribution of spears and hammer-axes. The lack of archaeological data, however, complicate further consideration of this issue. 56.  Picchelauri, K., 1997—Waffen der Bronzezeit aus Ost–Georgien, Archäologie in Eurasien 4, Pls. 87–88.

Amurru in der königlichen Ideologie und Tradition: von Ebla bis Israel Pavel Čech Prague

Mar-tu: die ewigen Aussenseiter? Die Amurriter—oder Amoräer 1—sind ein breites Thema, das in dem gegebenen Raum nicht ausführlich behandelt werden kann. Eher bietet sich an, einige Paralellen, Vergleiche und strukturelle Ähnlichkeiten aus dem “Bird´s eye view” zur Schau kommen lassen; dabei werden wir grob den Zeitverlauf verfolgen. Im Artikel über Martu in den sumerischen Quellen für den Reallexikon der Assyriologie ist Diez Otto Edzard (1987–1990: 439) zu dem Schluss gekommen, “dass die M. als Fremde betrachtet wurden und noch nicht als Mitbürger anerkannt waren.” Damit stellt sich die erste Frage: wann sie als Mitbürger anerkannt worden sind?

Die Amurriter und die Kanaanäer: eine Ähnlichkeit Vor zwanzig Jahren hat N. P. Lemche sein Buch Canaanites and their land veröffentlicht und in darauffolgender Debatte mit Anson Rainey und Nadav Naaman erfolgreich seine These verteidigt. 2 Dieser These gemäss der Begriff “Kanaanäer” von aussen her gekommen ist und lange nicht zum Ausdruck der Selbstidentität diente. Mit anderen Worten, die Kanaanäer wussten gar nicht, dass sie Kanaanäer sind. Sie waren also, mit der von der Sprachwissenschaft über die Anthropologie ausgeliehenen Distinktion, Kanaanäer nur etic, nicht emic. Es sei die erste Paralelle mit Ugarit gestattet: in Ugarit sprach man über einem “Kanaanäer”, wenn man zum Ausdruck bringen wollte, dass es um einen Fremden geht, aber man nicht genau wusste, woher er eigentlich kommt (Rainey 1963). Ähnliche Distanz herrscht auch bei den mar-tu. Wenn man es konkreter weiss, man wird auch konkreter: Šū-Sîn meldet für sein 4. und 5. Jahr eine Mauerbau gegen das Vordringen der Nomaden, die er zuerst appellativisch als bàd mar-tu, und nachher proprialisch als murīq tidnim bezeichnet. 3 1.  Es empfehlt sich, den traditionellen Begriff “Amoräer” für die biblische Schicht reservieren, und die bronzezeitlichen mar-tu als “Amurriter” kennzeichnen. 2.  Lemche 1991; 1996; 1998. 3. mu(-ús-sa) dšu-dEN.ZU lugal uri5ki-ma-ke4 bàd mar-tu mu-ri-iq ti-id-ni-im mu-dù (RIME 3/2: 290, 293). L. Verderame (2009: 247) stimme ich zu, dass mar-tu hier ein Appellativ sei, doch sein Vorschlag, bàd mar-tu als “Westmauer” zu verstehen, wird durch die Semantik der anderen Ur-III Königsinschriften nicht gestützt und durch andere Inschrift von Šū-Sîn als auch eine Meldung von Šū-Sîns Angestellter Šarrum-bāni klar widerlegt (RIME 3/2 1.4.17 und S. 291; vgl. auch Streck 2000: §1.17).

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Die Amurriter und die Kanaanäer: eine Dichotomie Etymologie der beiden Ethnonyma ist umstritten und mehreren Spekulationen offen. 4 Meiner Meinung nach ist Kanaan primär das Land im Westen, wo die Sonne zur Erde sinkt, von der semitischen Wurzel knc “sich beugen, niedersinken” abgeleitet (Astour 1965). Kanaan ist also Westland, was kommt einer der Bedeutungen von Amurru gleich. 5 Amurru kann entweder von der semitischen Wurzel mrr “bitter sein” mit der Referenz auf das Mittelmeer abgeleitet (Durand 1993: 46; dagegen Streck 2000: §1.8), oder eher von der Nebenbedeutung der gleichen Wurzel, “stark sein”. Währenddessen aber Kanaanäer die Tal-Bewohner sind, Amoräer das Hochland bewohnen, wie es noch in der Bibel zum Ausdruck kommt: “. . . Amoriter wohnen auf dem Gebirge, die Kanaaniter aber wohnen am Meer und um den Jordan” (Nu 13:29). Später, wenn Amurru im Laufe der spätbronzezeitlichen Fragmentierung praktisch ausschliesslich als ein Proprium–mit dem hethitischen Vasalenstadt als Referentem–etabliert wurde, haben seinen Platz in der binären Opposition zu den Kanaanäer die Aramäer eingenommen. 6 Und noch später wurden in gleicher Art und Weise auch die anderen Westleute, nämlich Araber, benannt (oder: erfunden?). Auch in diesem Fall hat der Begriff auf dem etic und emic Niveau verschiedene Referenten: etic gebraucht zielt er an alle Araber, emic exklusiv an die Nomaden zwischen ihnen. Ähnlich beschränkt sich die emic Referenz von Amurru in Mari auf engere Entität: auf gleichgenannten, westlich gelegenen Clan (Streck 2000: §1.9). Die Opposition Akkader vs. Amurriter in A.489 würde fur die breitere Verwendungsweise zeugen, ist aber von der Ergänzung a-m[u-u]r-ri-im (Durand 1992: 113, Anm. 137) abhängig und deshalb von beschränkter Aussagekraft; gleiches Merismus findet sich jedoch auch in A.361. Auf der gleichen Tafel, diesmal auf Amurru (so zu sagen eine Stufe niederer) beschränkt, findet man anderes Merismus: Mari vs. Ḫana, d.h. Zentrum vs. Peripherie, Sesshaften vs. Nomaden. Genauso ist Zimri-Lim, laut seinem Siegel, “König von Mari und der Ḫana-Länder” (Charpin 1992: 72). Auf jeden 4.  Für die weiterführende Literaturangaben vgl. Lemche (1991: 26, Anmerkungen 3–10). 5.  Man denkt an Die OstKanaanäer von Theo Bauer (1926), einem der Anhänger der (nord)östlichen Lokalisation der Amurriter. Diese Auseinandersetzung bleibt lebendig: die Himmelsrichtung von mar-tuki in Enmerkar und der Herr von Aratta, Z. 144 bezeichnet für Jakobsen (1997: 547, Anm. 5) Ost, für Glassner (1984: 19) Südwest. Laut der neuesten Bearbeitung (Mittermayer 2009: 243f.) “beschreiben die Z. 141–144 einen Zustand, der dem Adressaten beziehungsweise dem Dichter der Erzählung zu Beginn des 2. Jahrtausends v. Chr. vertraut war.” Eine symbolische Bedeutung der genannten Länder wird nicht erwogen. Es wird fortgeführt, dass “im Gegensatz dazu stehen die Z. 145f., in denen das ursprüngliche Ideal von Einigkeit und Einsprachigkeit dargelegt wird.” Diese Analyse geht von der Vorverständnis aus, dass der Dichter/Adressat aktuelle Länderkarte nicht ins illo tempore projizierte, was zuerst dargelegt werden sollte. 6.  Besonders, wenn die Analyse als einen von der Wurzel rwm gebildeten af ʿal (/*ʾarwam/) zutrifft (anders z.B. Lipiński 2000: 51–54). Übergangsstadium wären die schon altbabylonisch genannten Aḫlamû (AbB 13,60 30–32; dazu Streck 2000: §1.10), andere schwer greifbare Entität, derer Name auch als ein af ʿal, diesmal von der Wurzel ġlm “jung sein”, analysiert werden kann. Jung, stark, hochlebend: typische Merkmale der Kleinviehnomaden aus der Sicht der sesshaften Talbewohner? Wenn die israelitische Ethnogenese beginnt, werden die Protoisraeliten emic als die “Hebräer”, also die Übergegangenen, gekennzeichnet. Über der Sprachverwandschaft meint Zadok (2003: 317): “. . .the Amorite material does not contain anything which would contradict the possibility of a potential development and transformation of a certain group of Amorite dialects into some sort of «Proto-Aramaic»”. Streck, dagegen (2000: passim), hält die Dialektgliederung des Amurritischen für wenig sinnvoll.

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Fall gilt es dennoch nicht, dass “Amurriter und Ḫanäer sind also austauschbare Begriffe” (Streck 2000: §1.9). Eher ist hier wieder die Dichotomie etic vs. emic im Spiel: was für den aussenstehenden Beobachter typisch amurritisch ist, ist für die Amurriter ḫanäisch. Mit der Siegellegende stimmt hervorragend überein, dass, in der Korrespondenz von Mari, “we never find towns of the Ḫana” (Fleming 2009: 231), und dass nach dem Fall von Mari heisst der Nachfolgerstaat um Terqa “das Königtum von Ḫana” (Buccellati 1988). Am Ende der altbabylonischen Zeit, in der Genealogy of Hammurabi Dynasty (Finkelstein 1966) werden sie distinktive Teile des gleichen Diskurses: “Zeit der Amurriter, Zeit der Ḫanäer, Zeit der Gutäer.” 7 Nebenbei kennzeichnet sich eine bemerkenswerte strukturelle Regelmässigkeit: Ethnikum vom West kommt zu seinem Namen vom aussen her, d.h. etic, währenddessen die Einheiten, die in ihren Namen Nord oder Süd tragen, haben sich selbst in diese Stammesgruppen geteilt (die amoräischen Stämme der Sim’aliter und Jaminiter, hebräische Benjaminiter, aramäisches Sam’al, usw.). Einmal westlicher, immer westlicher–man wird darauf erinnert, dass die ersten Aḫlamû Aramû von Tiglatpileser in dem Raum von Jebel Bišri getroffen wurden, und schon die eblaitischen mar-tu–soweit ersichtlich–ebenfalls um Jebel Bišri, übrigens östlich von Ebla, lokalisiert werden.

Distinktive Merkmale der mar-tu in den eblaitischen Quellen Durch mar-tu werden in Ebla folgende Anthroponymen näher bestimmt: A-bù-mu-du Iš11-gi-zú Á-a-nu A-mu-ti I-ti-dÌ-lam Lu-du-ma-nu À-wa-ra Puzur4-ru12 Sa-a-nu Bu-si Ru12-zu-ru12 U9-a-nu I-ku-tu-a-bù Zi-da-mu Zu-ba-an

Einen davon (Jamuti) hat Archi (1985:11) amurritisch gefunden, sonst ist er der Meinung, dass “the other PNs do not show Amorite features”. Zum ähnlichen Schluss kam letztens Wossink (2009: 121): “Note that individuals designated as coming from Martu(m) never had Amorite names.” Die Namen sind in der Tabelle so arrangiert, damit man gleich sehen kann, dass ein ganzes Drittel mit dem (nach dem heutigen Forschungsstand oft die Eigennamen bildenden, semantisch ziemlich undistinktiven 8) Suffix—ān(u) gebildet worden ist.

Ethnizität For einigen Jahren paraphrasierte auf diesem Forum van der Spek (2005: 393) den berühmten anthropologisten Fredrik Barth (1969) und sagte: “So it may be that at one time the boundary mark is language, the other time it is religion, a third time it is common history.” Zurückhaltend können wir diese situationsbedingte Ethnizität an die Amurriter anwenden: sie sind primär geographisch greifbar, aber schon im 3. Jahrtausend 7.  BAL ERÍN MAR.TU BAL ERÍN Ḫe-a-na BAL ERÍN Gu-ti-um (GHD, Z. 29–31). 8.  Zunächst van Soldt 2010. Die angebliche deminutive Funktion wurde regelmässig angenommen, aber nie bewiesen.

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überwiegend durch ihr Lebensstill (d.h. Nomadentum, Pastoralismus) charakterisiert. Mit dem Gott Amurru, welcher diesen Lebensstil personifiziert, werden sie etic auch religiös deutlich ausgegrenzt (obwohl dieser Aussenseiter nach allen Peripetien seine Erwählte doch heiraten und damit sich in die gesellschaftliche Strukturen integrieren wird). Dieser Situation entspricht eher der zweite, negativ formulierte Teil der berühmten Nationalitätsdefinition von Karl Deutsch: die Nation sei “a group of people united by a mistaken view about the past and a hatred of their neighbours”, als die ähnlich postulierte Definition von Ernest Renan (“avoir fait de grandes choses ensemble, vouloir en faire encore”), welche–vielleicht unbewusst– von A. Porter (2009: 205) wiederholt wurde: “It is the invocation of a shared past and a future history that reinforces the mutual obligations that members of the same descent group share.” Die Sprache ist eine der ethnischen Indizien, aber in der ältesten Zeit von Fara bis Ebla sind die als mar-tu gekennzeichnete Personen (abgesehen von den mit dem Suffix—ān(u) gebildeten Namen) nicht onomastisch distinkt. In der Ur III und besonders am Anfang der altbabylonischen Zeit, wie sie sich vor allem in den Mari-Quellen spiegelt, ist die onomastische Differenz (mit dem Vorbehalt, dass die Onomastik nur mangelhaft über die Sprache des Benannten informiert) sehr stark und kann so zum ersten mal auch statistischerweise über die gesellschaftliche Stellung informieren: die amurritischen Herrscher von Babylon geben ihre amurritischen Namen zuerst zu gunsten der etablierten Akkadischen weg, aber nehmen sie später wieder auf; die Krieger sind in dem amurritischen Onomastikon von Mari überdurchschnittlich, und die Palast-Personnen unterdurchschnittlich vertreten. 9 Ein Amurriter zu sein ist im Kurs: Jasmah-Addu hat zwar amurritischen Namen, spricht aber kein Amurritisch, was seinem Vater Kopfschmerzen bereitet (Ziegler and Charpin 2007; Charpin 2008: 163). “A process of Amoritization” (Wossink 2011: 261) ist im vollen Lauf, doch gehen die Ethnizität und die Sprache, was die Prestige betrifft, nun verschiedene Wege, und der Sprache bleibt die Stellung des niedrigen, für die Schrift untauglichen Soziolekts inne.

Amurru nach der époque amorrite 10 Nach dem Fall von Mari teilen sich die Wege von diesem Toponym und dem Ethnonym. “Das Land Mari” bezeichnet für einige Jahrhunderte bis tief in die mittelbabylonische Zeit weiterhin das Gebiet am mittleren Eufrat, 11 parallel dazu entsteht jedoch eine neue Entität desgleichen Namens in der früheren nördlichsten Mari-Provinz Qaṭṭunān. Die Namen ihrer Herrscher spiegeln die herrschenden Macht—(und Mode-) Verhältnisse wider: zuerst wahrscheinlich amurritische, dann hurritische, letztlich, ab dem 13. Jahrhundert, assyrische (Shibata 2011b: 174f.). Nichtsdestoweniger: was früher für den fruchtbaren Halbmond galt, gilt in dem Spätbronz immer noch, nur beschränkt auf den westlichen Teil: “The Middle Bronze Age sees a proliferation of rulers across the Fertile Crescent whose names are in the Amorite language and who often self-identify as Amorite or as members of sub9.  “Apparently, soldiers tended to have Amorite names and palace personnel tended toward Akkadian names” (Heimpel 2003: 214). 10.  Zu dieser Umnennung der altbabylonischen Zeit vgl. z.B. Durand 1992 oder Charpin 2004 und Bemerkungen von Sanders (2012: 192, Anm. 5). 11.  Shibata (2011a: 95–99) mit weiterführender Literatur.

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groups of that larger configuration” (Schwartz 2012: 259). Nach Ende der altbabylonischer Zeit finden wir die Amurriter zu erster Zeit aus heutiger Sicht wirklich als eine “Nation”, also im eigenen, Amurru benannten Vasalenstaat. Auch aus der jüngeren Zeit bieten sich dazu viele Paralellen. Allgemein können, diachronisch gesehen, drei Etapen der Toponyma-Entwicklung unterscheidet werden: 1) konkreter Ort, im Falle der Amurriter und Aramäer die Berge Bišri (Bašar), Pusala, Tidanum (Buccellati 1966: 235–242; Wossink 2009: 121); 2) breites Raum; 3) Peripherie (neben dem Land Mari und Amurriter, vgl. im Nahen Osten besonders die Assyrer/ Syrer und die Hethiter). Auf jeden Fall ist jetzt wahrscheinlich, dass mindestens für die herrschende Schicht steht die amurritische Ethnizität auch emic fest. Ob auch für die “amurritische” Bevölkerung der levantinischen Küste, wird ungeantwortet bleiben. Wieder mit Lemche (2012: 12), der allerdings über Ethnika des 1. Jahrtausends v. Ch. spricht: “If we try to find a background for the macro definitions: Israelites, Philistines, we move on an imaginary level. It is a kind of literary concept nourished among the elite–never more than a few percent of any ancient society.”

Amurru Onomastikon der levantinischen Herrscher 12 Und, parallel zu der Situation der Mari-Zeit, geben die amurritischen Herrscher am Ende des 14. Jahrhunderts ihre amurritischen Namen weg! Sie heissen nun nicht mehr ʿAbdi-Aṯirta, Niqmepaʿ, Baʿluja oder ʿAziru, sondern DU-Tešub, Duppi-Tešub, Bentešina und Šaušgamuwa. In Amurru selbst wurde kaum hurritisch gesprochen (Singer 1991), die Motivation war auch in diesem Fall eher soziolinguistischer Natur: sie wollten damit gegenüber der neuen Oberhoheit—den Hethitern—Loyalität zeigen und wählten Namen, welche für die von hethitischer Oberhoheit abhängigen Herrscher—besonders in Karchemisch—typisch waren. Im Gegenteil zu Amurru, ihre nördlichen Nachbarn, die ugaritischen Herrscher, behielten zwar “amurritische Namen” (ein Merkmal der ägyptischen Vasalen?), aber—rein zufällig?—ohne den distinktiven “Hauptmerkmal” diesen Namen, den Preffix ja-, mit folgendem Themavokal a und somit dem Verstoss gegen den Barth-Ginsberg Gesetzt, zu wagen: keiner der ugaritischen Herrscher heisst “Jasmah-GN”, obwohl jeder ein gutes amurritisches Proprium trägt, das auch in vergleichenden Staaten der Zeit (Alalah, Emar) vorkommt: einige Niqmepas, Niqmaddus, natürlich ʿAmmurapis. 13 Nur zweimal werden die Thronnamen mit verbalen Elementen gebildet: Ammîṯtamru und Jaʿḏir-Addu, dagegen aber viele Ibbiranus. Das verdient einige Aufmerksamkeit: altorientalische Namen sind normalerweise ihren Sprechern verständlich, die Königsnamen wollen zugleich aber auch Ideologie und Prestige ausdrücken, müssen also ein Kompromis zwischen der ehrwürdigen Altertümlichkeit (welche, u.a., von den hethitischen Herrschern stark bevorzugt wurde) und der Verständlichkeit suchen, und m. M. nach gerade der—ān(u) Suffix (mindestens in Ugarit) musste als ein archaisches Merkmal wahrgenommen worden sein. In der Königsliste tragen so

12.  Die Gesetze der königlichen Onomastik wurden schon in Čech (2002) knapp erörtert. 13.  Hervorragend passen dazu die Worte von Wossink (2011: 267): “the occurrence of identical place, tribal and dynastic names across space and time is not necessarily a reflection of actual shared ancestry and historical events, but rather a reflection and historical justification of the political landscape and the socio-economic ties between different tribal groups as it existed at the time that these names were recorded.”

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geformte Namen gleich die ersten drei Herrscher: Ugarānu, Amqūnu 14, Rap’ānu. Ugarānu ist zweifellos Eponym des Landes, ob Amqūnu die gleiche Rolle innehat (und auf Amka im süd Amurru, oder Unqi nördlich von Ugarit anspielt), soll hier offen bleiben. Dank der Begräbnis-Liturgie KTU 1.161 können wir diese—zweifelsfrei legendäre—Reihe weiter gegen Lauf der Zeit verfolgen, und hier sind es alle “uralten Raphaiter”, die gleich geformt sind, vielleicht nach dem Vorbild ihres legendären Chefs und Eponyms, Ditānu. Ob auch die “amurritischen” Namen von KTU 1.102 die “rituellen” Namen der später verstorbenen ugaritischen Herrscher sind, wie G. del Olmo Lete (1987; 1999: 166–198; 2006) mehrmals sehr gedankenreich zu zeigen versuchte, ist unklar, könnte aber mit dem hier gewonennen Bild gut vereinbart werden. Auf der anderen Seite die hurritischen Namen, die so gut in Amurru funktionieren, diskvalifizieren den Herrscher in Ugarit wie bei den Hethitern: ugaritischer Arḫalba wurde in die ugaritische Königsliste nicht aufgenommen, die Brüder Ḫišmi-Šarrumma und Eḫli-Šarrumma nach Zypern verband (Dietrich 2000: 74–77), der fleissige Briefabsender, Prinz Talmijanu, verschwindet aus der Szene, hethitischer Mursili wurde von seinem Nachfolger Ḫattusili als Urḫi-Tešup delegitimiziert.

Identitätsbildung Interessante Beiträge zum Herausbildung eigener, amurritisch bezogener Identität durch die Konstruktion der Verwandschaftsbeziehungen bieten verschiedene Gattungen der ugaritischen Literatur: Mythologie: grosse Götter sind natürlich über die ethnische Frage erhaben, aber ihre Assistenten, die üblicherweise im Paar vorkommen, drücken gerade diese Identität geschickt aus: die von El heissen Ṯkmn w Šnm, der zweitgenannte von Baclu Ugr, der zweite von Aṯirtu Amrr. Wie mit den Assistenten von El die Führer des kassitischen Pantheons Šukamuna und Šumalia in ugaritische Mythologie integriert wurden, so mit dem Assistenten von Aṯirtu könnte der südliche Nachbar Amurru personifiziert werden. Legenden: Kirta teilt den Namen mit dem legendären (?) Mittani Gründer und heiratet die (vielleicht) eponyme Ḫurriya, stammt aber von Ditanus amurritischer Familie ab, womit die Amoräer und die Hurriter symbolisch zusammengebracht werden. 15

Die amurritische Nachgeschichte Zu Beginn der Eisenzeit bleibt die Prestige der amurritischen Herrscher lebendig und der phoinikische Herrscher Zakar-Baal stellt sich in seinen Pfeilinschriften näher mal mit dem Patronym bn cnt “Sohn der (Schutzherrin der Bogenschützer) Anat”, mal als mlk cmr “König von Amurru”, vor. 16 Im ersten Jt. v. Chr. beschränkt sich die Quellenlage mehr oder weniger auf Inschrifte der neuassyrischen Herrscher, wo Amurru wieder in einer weiteren (Syro-Palästina) und einer engerer (Teil der 14. -ūn als Alomorph von—ān (Arnaud 1999: 159, vgl. Gröndahl 1967: § 50), bzw. durch Monoph­ thongization < *camquwānu (Streck 2000: § 5.56). 15.  Wirkliche Heirat des Mar-tu auf der politischen Ebene! 16.  Starcky 1982; Deutsch – Heltzer 1995 (die Echtheit dieses Exemplars wird bezweifelt). Falls cnt und Ḫana(t) etymologisch zusammenhängen, würde die Doppelbezeichnung Zakar-Baals an Interesse gewinnen.

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levantinischen Küste in der Akkar-Ebene) Bedeutung benutzt wird (Liverani 1973: 119f.; Bagg 2007: 11–15), einige lexikalische Gleichungen und ominale Apodosen im Osten, und das Alte Testament im Westen. Amurriter sind mit Tidnu, also Ditānu verglichen, was überrascht nach dem gerade über Kirta Gesagten nicht, und auch mit dašnu, was vielleicht mit ugaritischen dtn zusammenhängt und kann (körperlich) “stark”, “gewaltsam” bedeuten. 17 Und stark sind auch die alttestamentlichen Amoräer. Dort sind sie etwa 90mal genannt. Wie schon erwähnt, im Buch Numeri werden die Kanaanäer als Tal-Bewohner des westlichen Teils Palästinas und die Amoräer als Bewohner des Oberlandes im Osten vorgestellt. Davon wird von der Wissenschaft oft ein Schema postuliert, dass aus der “Mittelerde” (Syrischen Wüstensteppe) zuerst etwa 3000 v. Chr. die Kanaanäer spriessen, dann um 2000 v. Chr. die Amoräer und vielleicht um 1000 v. Chr. die Aramäer, und alle haben sich in der Levante schön vom Westen her hintereinander gereiht. Diese formalistische Erklärung ist mehrmals abgelehnt worden, zwischen Anderen von den hier mehrmals erwähnten N. P. Lemche (2000) und M. P. Streck (2000). Interessant ist, dass die Rekonstruktion der israelitischen Ethnogenese von Israel Finkelstein und anderen eigentlich über die biblischen Amoräer spricht: Population vom Osten des Landes, teilweise nomadischer Herkunft, teil der dimorfen Gesellschaft Palästinas. Und wenn A. Wossink (2009: 136) schreibt: “In other words, being pastoralist was at the core of being Amorite, but being Amorite did not require being pastoralist”, würden dies mindestens die biblischen Rehabiter sicher auf sich und Israel beziehen. Und wenn er “a discrepancy between the perception of Amorites in literary sources and administrative documents” konstatiert, sieht man wieder eine klare Paralelle dazu im Israel. 18 In den Grund-legenden Erzählungen über der Patriarchenzeit wird aber israelitische etnische Identität gerade gegen die Amoräer stark abgegrenzt: keine nahe Verwandte wie die Ammoniter, Moabiter, Edomiter, oder Aramäer, auch nicht ferne, wie Kanaanäer. Der Amoräer, laut Amos 2:9, “so hoch war wie die Zedern und seine Macht wie die Eichen”. Erst Ezechiel in 16. Kapitel plötzlich weiss, dass die Mutter von Israel amoräischer Abstammung war–welche Beleidigung! Ich würde mich deshalb zum Schluss wieder auf die onomastische Perspektive einschränken: der berühmteste amoräische König der biblischen Geschichten ist zweifellos Sichon, der noch vor dem Eintritt östlich von Jordan von Israel geschlagen wird. Sein Name ist genau so wie die Namen der uralten Ugariter mit einem -ōn < *-ān(u) Suffix gebildet. Zufall? Was archaisch klingt, klingt vielleicht zugleich auch Amoräisch! Wie Liverani (1980: 126) treflich bemerkte: “Israel did not know the Amorites in actual history. . . but projected them into the past.” Die Amoräer sind diesmal primär religiös definiert und zum Sterben in der israelitischen Urgeschichte verurteilt. Ähnlich wie die uralten—ān(u)-Raphaiter, womit die letzte Paralelle mit Ugarit zum Wort kommt. Nach dem berühmten Zeugnis aus Mari waren die Stammesangehörige von Jaḫruru willig, ihre etnische Identität zu wechseln (u.a. Streck 2000: §1.48). Die ewige antropologische Auseinandersetzung zwischen Essenzialisten und Kon­struk­ tivisten hat auch diachronisch gesehen einen klaren Sieger: um die etnische Identität der Amurriter/Amoräer wird immer wieder gehandelt, währenddessen ihr Wert schwenkt: manchmal will sie jeder, manchmal keiner. . . 17.  Nach Malku I 234f. ist dašnu amurritisches Äquivalent für sutäisches ditānu. Könnte dafür vielleicht eine sekundäre Etymologie von ditānu “Wisent” verantwortlich sein? 18.  Vielleicht sollten wir weniger moderne Anthropologie und mehr alte Klassiker lesen?

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References Archi, A. 1985 Mardu in the Ebla Texts. Orientalia 54: 7–13. Arnaud, D. 1999 Prolégomènes à la rédaction d’une histoire d’Ougarit II: Les bordereaux de rois divinisés. SMEA 41: 153–173. Bagg, A. M. 2007 Die Orts und Gewässernamen der neuassyrischen Zeit. Teil 1: Die Levante. RGTC 7/1. Wiesbaden: Dr. Ludwig Reichert. Barth, F. 1969 Ethnic groups and boundaries. The Social Organization of Culture Difference. Boston: Little, Brown and Company. Bauer, T. 1926 Die Ostkanaanäer. Eine philologisch-historische Untersuchung über die Wanderschicht der sogenannter “Amoriter” in Babylonien. Leipzig: Verlag der Asia Major. Buccellati, G. 1966 The Amorites of the Ur III Period. Ricerche 1. Naples: Istituto Orientale di Napoli. 1988 The Kingdom and Period of Khana. BASOR 270: 43–61. Čech, P. 2002 Königslisten und ihre (Ir)relevanz für die Geschichtsforschung. UF 34: 39–45. Charpin, D. 1992 Les Legendes de Sceaux de Mari: Nouvelles Donées. Pp. 59–76 in Mari in Retrospect. Fifty Years of Mari and Mari Studies. Edited by G. D. Young. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. 2004 Histoire politique du Proche-Orient Amorrite (2002–1595). Pp. 5–480 in Mesopotamien: Die altbabylonische Zeit. Orbis Biblicus et Orientalis 160/4. Edited by D. Charpin, D. O. Edzard, and M. Stol. Fribourg: Academic Press / Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. 2008 Lire et écrire à Babylone. Paris: PUF.  Deutsch, R., and Heltzer, M. 1995 New Epigraphic Evidence from the Biblical Period. Tel Aviv: Archaeological Center Publication. Dietrich, M. 2000 Zypern und Ägais nach den Texten aus Ugarit. Pp. 63–89 in Zypern. Insel im Brennpunkt der Kulturen. Schriften des Instituts für Interdisziplinäre Zypern-Studien 1. Edited by S. Rogge. Münster–New York–München–Berlin: Waxman. Durand, J.-M. 1992 Unité et diversité au Proche-Orient à l’époque amorrite. Pp. 97–128 in La circulation des biens, des personnes et des idées dans le Proche-Orient Ancient. Edited by D. Charpin and F. Joannès. Compte Rendues Rencontre Assyriologique International, Paris: ERC. 1993 Le mythologème du combat entre le Dieu de l’orage et la Mer un Mesopotamie. M.A.R.I. 7: 41–61. Edzard, D. O. Martu (Mardu). B. Bevölkerungsgruppe. Pp. 438–40 in Reallexikon der Assyri1987–1990 ologie 7: Libanukšabaš–Medizin. Edited by D. O. Edzard et al. Berlin–New York: Walter de Gruyter. Finkelstein, J. J. 1966 The Genealogy of the Hammurabi Dynasty. JCS 20: 95–118. Fleming, D. E. 2009 Kingship of City and Tribe Conjoined: Zimri-Lim at Mari. Pp. 227–37 in Nomads, Tribes, and the State in the Ancient Near East. Oriental Institute Studies 5. Edited by J. Szuchman. Chicago: Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago. Glassner, J.-J. 1984 La division quinaire de la terre. Akkadica 40: 17–34.

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Heimpel, W. 2003 Letters from the Kings of Mari. A New Translation, with Historical Introduction, Notes and Commentary. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Jakobsen, T. 2003 Enmerkar and the Lord of Aratta (1.170). Pp. 547–50 in Context of Scripture I: Canonical Compositions from the Biblical World. Edited by W. W. Hallo and K. L. Younger. Leiden: Brill. Lemche, N. P. 1991 Canaanites and Their Land. The Tradition of the Canaanites. Sheffield: Sheffield University Press. 1995 The History of Ancient Syria and Palestine: An Overview. Pp. 1195–1218 in Civilizations of the Ancient Near East. Edited by J. Sasson. Peabody, MAS: Hendrickson. 1996 Where Should we Look for Canaan? A Reply to Nadav Naʾaman. UF 26: 767–72. 1998 Greater Canaan: The Implications of a Correct Reading of EA 151:49–67. BASOR 310: 19–24. 2012 Using the Concept of Etnicity in Definying Philistine Identity in the Iron Age. SJOT 26: 16–29. Lipiński, E. 2000 The Aramaeans, Their Ancient History, Culture, Religion. Orientalia Lovaniensia Analecta 100. Leuven: Peeters. Liverani, M. 1973 The Amorites. Pp. 100–133 in Peoples of Old Testament Times. Edited by D. J. Wiseman. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Malamat, A. 1985 Mari and Early Israel. Pp. 235–243 in Biblical Archaeology Today. Proceedings of the International Congress on Biblical Archaeology. Edited by Janet Amitai. Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society. Repr. Pp.  17–27 in History of Biblical Israel. Major Problems and Minor Issues. Leiden–Boston: Brill, 2004. Mittermayer, C. 2009 Enmerkar und der Herr von Aratta. Ein ungleicher Wettstreit. Orbis Biblicus et Orientalis 239. Fribourg: Academic Press/Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht. Olmo Lete, G. del 1987 Los nombres divinos de los reyes de Ugarit. AuOr 5: 35–51. 1999 Canaanite Religion According to the Liturgical Texts from Ugarit. Bethesda: CDL. 2006 La listas de los reyes de Ugarit. Pp. 165–171 in Šapal tibnim mû illakū. Studies Presented to Joaquín Sanmartín on the Occasion of His 65th Birthday. Aula Orientalis Supplementa 22. Edited by G. del Olmo Lete–L. Feliu–A. Millet Albà. Barcelona: Sabadel. Porter, A. 2007 You Say Potato, I Say. . . Typology, Chronology and the Origin of the Amorites. Pp. 69– 115 in Sociétés humaines et changement climatique à la fin du troisième millènaire: Une crise a-t-elle eu lieu en haute-Mésopotamie? Varia Anatolica 19. Edited by C. Kuzucuoglu and C. Marro. Istanbul: Institut Français d’Études Anatoliennes-Georges Dumézil. 2009 Beyond Dimorphism: Ideologies and Materialities of Kinship as Time-Space Distantiation. Pp.  201–225 in Nomads, Tribes and the State in the Ancient Near East. Oriental Institute Seminars 5. Edited by J. Szuchman. Chicago: The Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago. Rainey, A. F. 1963 A Canaanite at Ugarit. IEJ 13: 43–45. Sanders, S. 2012 From People to Public in the Iron Age Levant. Pp. 191–211 in Organization, Representation, and Symbols of Power in the Ancient Near East. Proceedings of the 54th Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale at Würzburg, 20–25 July 2008. Edited by Gernot Wilhelm. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns.

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Schwartz, G. M. 2012 Northern Exposures: Third to Second Millennium bc Transformations in Upper Mesopotamia. Pp. 255–263 in Looking North: The Socioeconomic Dynamics of Northern Mesopotamian and Anatolian Regions during the Late Third and Early Second Millennium bc. Edited by N. Laneri, P. Pfälzner, and S. Valentini. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Shibata, D. 2011a The Toponyms, ‘The Land of Māri’, in the Late Second Millenńium b.c. RA 105: 95–108. 2011b The Origin of the Dynasty of the Land of Māri and the City-God of Ṭābetu. RA 105: 165–180. Singer, I. 1991 A Concise History of Amurru. Pp. 135–95 in Amurru Akkadian: A Linguistic Study. Harvard Semitic Studies 41. Edited by Shlomo Izreel. Atlanta: Scholars. Speck, R. J. van der 2005 Ethnic Segregation in Hellenistic Babylon. Pp. 393–408 in Ethnicity in Ancient Mesopotamia. Papers Read at the 48th Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale, Leiden, 1– 4 July 2002. PIHANS 102. Leiden: Nederlands Instituut voor het Nabije Oosten. Starcky, J. 1982 La flèche de Zakarbaʿal roi d’Amurru. Pp. 179–186 in Archéologie au Levant. Recueil à la mémoire de Roger Saidah. Collection de la Maison de l’Orient Méditerranéen 12, Série Archéologique 9. Lyon: Publications de la Maison de l‘Orient et de la Méditerranée / Paris: Diffusion de Boccard. Streck, M. P. 1995 Simply a Seller, Nothing but Gods: The Nominal Suffix -ān in Old Babylonian. Pp. 233– 243 in Memoriae Igor M. Diakonoff . Orientalia et Classica 8; Babel und Bibel: Annual of Ancient Near Eastern, Old Testament, and Semitic Studies 2. Edited by L. Kogan et al. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. 2000 Das amurritische Onomastikon der altbabylonischen Zeit. Band I: Die Amurriter, die onomastische Forschung, Orthographie und Phonologie, Nominalmorphologie. Alter Orient und Altes Testament 271/1. Münster: Ugarit-Verlag. Verderame, L. 2009 Mar-tu nel III millennio: fonti e interpretazioni. RSO 82: 229–260. Wossink, A. 2009 Challenging Climate Change. Competition and cooperation among pastoralists and agriculturalists in northern Mesopotamia (c. 3000–1600 bc). Leiden: Sidestone Press. 2011 Tribal Identities in Mesopotamia between 2500 and 1500 bc. Pp.  261–67 in Correlates of Complexity. Essays in Archaeology and Assyriology Dedicated to Diederik J.W. Meijer in Honour of His 65th Birthday. PIHANS 116. Edited by B. S. Düring, A. Wossink, and P. M. M. G. Akkermans. Leiden: Nederlands Instituut voor het Nabije Oosten. Ziegler, N., and Charpin, D. 2007 Amurritisch lernen. WZKM 97: 56–77.

The Assyrian Tree of Life and the Jewish Menorah Christos G. Karagiannis Athens

The Idea of the Tree of Life in the Ancient Near East and Greece All ancient Near Eastern cultures have some account of a tree of life and of a man’s quest to obtain its fruit. First of all, the Mesopotamian god Enki plants at the bottom of the sea a fruitful tree, 1 which covers the sky and the earth and stands beside the altar of the god as a shield. In the Mesopotamian epic of Gilgamesh, the hero undertakes a ritual journey in order to find the plant that gives life. 2 Gilgamesh is seated under a vine in the paradise garden. Gilgamesh asks Siduru-Sabatu, the goddess of Wisdom and the “Keeper of the Fruit of Life”, to give him the gift of the eternal life, but she refuses. 3 On an Akkadian tablet it is written the story of the goddess Ishtar, who gives to Gilgamesh a magical drum and drumstick, made by the tree of life that she planted in her garden. 4 The myth of Etana tells about a hero who manages with the aid of an eagle to fly to heaven and obtain the plant of birth. 5 In the Babylonian traditions god Eridu’s earthly dwelling place is behind a tree. Marduk occurs as “a dispenser of the plant of life.” 6 The motif of a tree occurs in Ancient Mesopotamia. The research has not yet come to a conclusion if this motif is associated with the tree of life or a more neutral term the “sacred tree.” As Parpola notes during the second millennium occurs the so-called Late Assyrian Tree under Tukulti-Ninurta. The rise of the Neo-Assyrian Empire (934–608 b.c.e.) was the significant element for the spread of the idea of the tree in the entire Near East. As a result the Assyrian tree of life becomes present in stone monuments, brick edifices, royal garments, jewelry, cylinders, official seals and wall paintings. The original representation is a plant between two animals. The Assyrian seals from the 14th century represent it between the figures of sphinxes and lions standing in antithetical way. During the Neo-Assyrian Period a new ele1.  Ward 2006: 137–138. 2.  Pritchard 1992: 89–90, 93–97. 3.  Albright 1920: 258–259. 4.  Pritchard 1992: 97. 5.  Pritchard 1992: 114–118. 6.  Perrot 1937: 11.

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ment is introduced. The fruit of the tree gradually becomes important. The apparent motif of the tree is strongly connected with the king and god Assur. The peculiar design of the tree is constituted of a base with the central trunk and the top that seems to look like a palm tree or with horizontal and intersecting lines, like those of an almond tree. Sometimes, on both sides of the tree, stand two deities and above it a winged disk, a symbol of god Assur. The king who is the owner and the guardian of the tree becomes the guardian of the holy tree. 7 In the throneroom of Ashurnasirpal II (883–859 b.c.e.) the tree is the main motif of a sculpture and it becomes an imperial symbol. The sources do not explain these motifs and the association between the tree of life and the king. The question that arises to the proscenium deals with the complete lack of reference to such an imperial symbol. Parpola justifies this absence implying that the symbolism of the tree was an esoteric doctrine. 8 He cites Winter’s 9 research and he assumes that according to her the motif of the throneroom of Ashurnasirpal should be examined under the light of the epithet “vice-regent of Assur.” The epithet is referring to the king as the intermediary between the god and the community. 10 Furthermore the tree of life is associated with the deity of fertility and war, Ishtar. The tree becomes the symbol of the ecstatic worship of the goddess and the bond between sky–earth and the great beyond. The tree is a representation of the deity in the physical world. Through the tree the king becomes the representation of the icon of gods on earth. 11 As Parpola notes “the tree had a dual function in Assyrian art. Basically it symbolized the divine world order maintained by the Assyrian king, but inversely it could also be projected upon the king to portray him as the Perfect Man.” 12 On the other hand Cooper points out that “in her article Winter said rather that the tree represents fertility, and that the divine principles are represented by Assur in the winged disk. So the symbolic or functional similarity of the Assyrian and Sefirotic Trees rests on Parpola’s assertions.” 13 In Egypt representations of the lotus plant are found on numerous artifacts. The god Ammon Ra is the creator of the human race and of the tree of fruits or the tree of life. On the leaves and the fruits of this tree are inscribed, by Ra, Thoth and the scribe of gods Sessath, the names of the kings, in order to have long life. The tree is a cosmic tree, which represents the sun and covers the earth. Every morning, when the sun god arises through its leaves it disappears and every night when he hides behind them it occurs again. 14 In the Egyptian Coffin Texts it is written that Ra came from between two ficus sycomores. 15 Other trees that are associated with Egyptian gods are: tree Naret, palm tree that is identified with the male god of fertility Min 16 and acacia, which is identified with the goddess Lousaaset. 17 7.  Widengren 1951: 20. 8.  Parpola 1993: 165, 168–169. 9.  Winter 1983: 26–32. 10.  Larsen 1976: 119. 11.  Parpola 1997: 15. 12.  Parpola 1993: 168. 13.  Cooper 2000: 436. 14.  Müller 2004: 35–36. 15.  Ritner 1997–2002: 2.10–11:58–59. 16.  Buhl 1947: 86. 17.  James 1966):14.

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In ancient Ugarit the wife of god El is Aserah. 18 She is identified with the palm tree and as the one who brings to it the water of life. Aserah occurs as well as in the Bible. 19 During the period of king Solomon the worship of Asherah started to develop. As a result gradually Asherah stands both in the Temple of Jerusalem and at the shrine of Baal. There were “asheroth”, small wood representations of the goddess, which seem to be the development of the ideas of the sacred tree. 20 In ancient Greece as well appears the idea of a sacred tree, which is associated with the presence of Greek gods or with mythological and epic heroes. A jar, ascribed to the Late Minoan II period, is decorated with a seven-branched palm tree beside an altar. 21 The ancient Greek gods are often associated with trees. At Boiai of Laconia, a myrtle was adored under the title Artemis Soteira (Artemis Savior). The images of Artemis were sometimes decorated with branches. God Dionysus is also represented in later vases kneeling before a palm tree or pouring a libation on a palm growing out from an altar. 22 Odysseus, in Homer’s epic refers to a palm, which was different from any other tree that was growing from the earth, and was arising by the altar of Apollo. 23 Athenians used to visit the ancient Oracle of Delphi in order to offer to goddess Athena a bronze palm tree with golden fruit. 24 The sacred tree in Ancient Greece was usually an olive tree, not a palm tree. According to Pausanias there was a sacred olive tree, dedicated to goddess Athena near Erechtheion at the Acropolis in Athens. This olive tree believed to have been planted there by Athena. 25 Hercules journeys to Hades and takes the sacred apples from the sacred grove of the Hesperides. After accomplishing his work he must return to Hades in order to bring back the apples to the heavenly guardians because these fruits are not for mortals. 26 According to the Bible (Gen. 2:9) there were two trees in the midst of the Garden of Eden. The scholars who focused their research on Gen. 2:9 do not agree on the question of one or two trees and related textual irregularities. Many commentators found the solution by assuming that the account originally spoke of only one tree and that the tree of life was a late addition to the text. 27 When Moses went to the mountain of God, the Lord spoke to him out of a bush that burnt fire but not consumed. 28 The bush that burns but not consumes will be later adopted in the idea of menorah. Prophet Zechariah saw a vision in which God promised that Joshua, the high Priest, would walk with the Branch, which is identified with Messiah 29. Then he speaks of a single day when “every one of you will invite his neighbor under the vine and under his big tree.” 30 Another one vision with two olive trees on either side of

18.  Miller 2000: 76–77. 19.  Pettey 1990: 153–154. 20.  Olympiou 1991: 314. 21.  James 1966: 30. 22.  Eliade 1958: 279–280. 23.  Homer, The Odyssey, 6:162–167. 24.  Plutarch, Moralia VII:4.274. 25.  Pausanias 19841:27. 26. Apollodorus, Bibliotheca, 2:4. 8–2:7.7. 27.  Mettinger 2007: 5–11. 28.  Ex. 3:1–6. Wells 2000: 30–31. 29.  Zech. 3:8. 30.  Zech. 3:10.

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the lampstand – menorah of the Jewish tabernacle followed that. As symbols of the tree of life the olive trees are identified as the anointed ones of God. 31 The Jewish apocalyptic literature preserves references to the tree of life. In I Enoch appears the visionary journey of Enoch to the Seven Sacred Mountains. There he saw a sacred tree, which looked like a date palm, but it was more beautiful and bigger than every tree he had ever saw. Enoch’s guide Michael informs him that mortals could not eat the fruit of this tree because they have first to be purified through a judgment. 32 In the Secrets of Enoch the seer appears at the heavenly dwelling place of the righteous, exactly where the tree of life grows. 33 In the Testament of Levi Enoch says that during the eschatological days the Lord “. . .shall give to the saints to eat from the tree of life, and the spirit of holiness shall be on them.” 34 In IV Ezra another promise is given to the righteous about the last days: “For unto you is paradise opened, the tree of life is planted, the time to come is prepared.” 35 Maybe someone may wonder why all these stories should be examined in parallel to the menorah sources. The shape of the menorah, its light and spiritual meaning are contemporary to the tree of life and as a result the examination of both in parallel could give an answer about the significance, the meaning and the symbolism of the menorah through the centuries.

The Menorah The first appearance of the menorah (‫ )מנורה‬occurs in Exod. 25:31–40. 36 This menorah is golden and associated with the Tabernacle and the Ark of the Covenant. In Exod. 31:7–11 the menorah is mentioned with the tent of the meeting, the ark of the testimony, the mercy seat, the table and its utensils, the altar of incense, the altar of burnt offering and the holy garments of Aaron the priest and his sons. This menorah was lighting the Tent of the Meeting during the march of the Israelites in the desert and their entrance to the Promised Land. 37 After the settlement, the menorah should have been pitched at the sanctuary of Shiloh. 38 In the following period there is no mention of it. Solomon replaced the seven-lampstand menorah with ten candlesticks, which he put in the Holy of the First Temple. 39 This menorah would reside there for years until carried off by Nebuchadnezzar in the destruction of 586 b.c.e.. 40 At the time of the Babylonian Captivity the menorah was the reminder of what has been lost and what should be restored. 31. Zech. 4:2–3. The most impressive description comes in Zech. 4:10–14: “These seven are the eyes of the Lord, which range through the whole earth. 11 Then I said to him, ‘What are these two olive trees on the right and the left of the lampstand?’ 12 And a second time I said to him, ‘What are these two branches of the olive trees, which are beside the two golden pipes from which the oil is poured out?’ 13 He said to me, ‘Do you not know what these are?’ I said, ‘No, my lord.’ 14 Then he said, ‘These are the two anointed who stand by the Lord of the whole earth.’ ” North 1970: 183–201. Petersen 1984: 219–227. 32.  I Enoch 29. 33.  Secrets of Enoch 9:1. 34.  Testament of Levi 18:9–11. 35.  IV Ezra 8:52. 36.  Bible quotations are taken from: The Holy Bible. RSV. New York and Glasgow: Collins Clear Type Press 1952. 37.  Fine 2005: 150–151. 38.  Josh. 18:1. 39.  I. Kgs. 7:35. II Chr. 4:7. Sperber 1965: 135–159. 40.  Jer. 52:19. Cogliano 2003: 609.

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During the restoration of the Temple worship after the captivity in Babylon, no mention is made of the return of the menorah, but only of “vessels.” 41 Since the Temple was an enclosed place with no natural light, there should have been one lampstand. 42 The book of Maccabees records that Antiochus IV took away certain other golden candlesticks (plural) known to be in the temple, when he invaded it and sealed it. 43 The later record of the making of “new holy vessels” may refer to the manufacture of new candlesticks. 44 The relighting of the menorah is still commemorated at Hanukkah. There is thereafter no biblical mention about the fate of the menorah. Other golden candlesticks were again made to adorn the temple; but they served merely as secondary adornments to the temple, so that when Pompey entered the holy of holies, 45 after conquering Jerusalem, he is stated to have seen one lampstand only. 46 This lampstand is described by Josephus 47 and shown on the Arch of Titus in Rome. According to Josephus 48 three candles burned permanently. Since then the menorah is present in coins, 49 seals and mosaics of synagogues. The menorah of the synagogue plays a dual role, as a liturgical object and a decoration motif in the inner of the building. 50 Gradually it becomes a symbol of the Jews. 51 The use of the menorah, as well with lulav and shophar, which were used in the worship of the synagogues, established these items as the symbols of Judaism. 52 Menorah achieved to be the answer of the Jews to the cross, the symbol of Christianity, which was conquering the world. 53 According to Josephus the menorah used in the Second Temple was brought to Rome and carried along during the triumph of Vespasian and Titus. The menorah probably remained in the Temple of Peace in Rome 54 until the city was sacked by the Visigoths in 410 c.e.. Most likely, the menorah was looted by the Vandals in the sacking of Rome in 455 c.e., and taken to their capital, Carthage. The Byzantine army under General Belisarius might have removed it in 533 and brought it to Constantinople. According to Procopius it was carried through the streets of Constantinople during Belisarius’ triumphal procession. Procopius adds that the object was later sent back to Jerusalem because a Jew told Justinian that the lampstand had brought disaster to every city where it had been. 55 Since then there is no record of it.

41.  Ezra 1:9–10. 42.  Charles 1913: 293. 43.  I. Macc. 1:21. 44.  I. Macc. 4:49. 45. Josephus, Jewish Antiquities. Vol. XIV, 4. 4. 46.  Hayes and Mandell 1998: 108–110. 47. Josephus, Jewish War 7. 148–149. 48. Josephus, Jewish Antiquities. Vol. III. 199. 49.  Reifenberg 1953: 22, fig. 5. 50.  Levine 2005: 109. 51.  Levine 1999: 109–112. 52.  Hachlili 1998: 344–360. 53.  Beebe 2008. 54. Josephus, Jewish War 7. 150. 55.  Fine 2005: 156.

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Significance and Interpretation of the Menorah The shape of the Tabernacle menorah is quite like that of the tree of life, symbolizing fertility in nature and the life giving power of God. The botanical imagery begins with the shaft of the menorah. The text testifies that the imagery employed in the design of the lampstand is that of almonds. 56 The whole shape is that of a stylized tree. The seven branches indicate completeness. Meyers suggests that the construction and imagery of the tabernacle menorah point in particular to the influence of Egyptian craft techniques. 57 Yarden stresses the development of the menorah from the ancient Near Eastern tree of life, showing a number of seven branched Mesopotamian Trees. 58 O’Conor points out the Cylinder of Temptation, which depicts the symbol flanked by an idealized man and a woman with a snake in the background. 59 The attempts of these scholars are based on the trust of the ancient tradition of the biblical text. The question, which arises, has to do with the credibility of these passages, the time of their formation and the historical circumstances that lie behind their formation. The Tabernacle menorah is an object made of pure gold. The construction of the menorah with pure gold suggests a large project, which could not have been done in the inhospitable environment of the desert. This kind of construction presupposes a civilized background with capable and skilled craftsman. The menorah was constructed after the settlement in the Promised Land. The transfer of this idea to the Israelites had to do with a long period, in order to be interpreted in the Israelite ritual concept. The idea probably derived from the Mesopotamian – Babylonian customs and ethics and was probably introduced during the 10th century b.c.e.. At this very beginning the menorah was a cultic object with a limited spiritual meaning. The archaeological finds reveal varied representations of the menorah before the Babylonian Captivity (586 b.c.e.). 60 There is one pitcher from Lachish, which is dated early to the 13th century b.c.e. clay altars from Taanach, circa the 10th century b.c.e. and seals of various kinds. 61 On the other hand, for Gray a Mesopotamian influence is easy to be assumed in remote periods but not in post-exilic times. 62 After the Babylonian Captivity Jews had to reinvent themselves. During that period Jerusalem was part of the Achaemenid Empire, there was no king, and religious power came into the hands of the priests, who redacted the texts of the Bible that deal with cultic practices. This does not mean that they invented them although they certainly included new elements and ethics that originated from Babylonia and Mesopotamia. The priestly authors believed that they wrote down what had been practiced before 586 b.c.e.. 63 They believed that Moses had made the menorah; it was an object from the wandering period in the desert. The people who returned from the Babylonian Captivity needed something to confirm their continuity th56.  Ameisenowa 1938/9: 329. 57.  Meyers 1992: 142. 58.  Yarden 1971: 35–42. 59.  O’Conor 1994: 402. 60.  Seavay 1988: 140. 61.  Alspaugh 2004: 10. 62.  Gray 1914. 63.  Carr 2011: 201–203.

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rough the centuries. The Ark of the Covenant was lost and as a result something new was necessary to confirm the presence of Yahweh among his people. That was the Torah, but the Torah could not stand on its own. Something sacral, which was coming from the ancient past, should have been with it. That was the menorah. Light symbolizes knowledge and the menorah beside the Torah would signify that spiritual enlightenment. Furthermore menorah would symbolize Jewish national life that stems from God’s Law and remains consecrated to the Law forever. 64 The experience of the Diaspora brings the Jews close to the world of astronomy. Gradually menorah is associated with cosmology and the mysticism of the East. Philo considers menorah as a symbol of heaven or of the planetary system. 65 This explains why the dimensions of the menorah are not stated in the Torah, but only its weight, since heaven is immeasurable. The branches of the menorah project obliquely from the shaft to resemble the Zodiac, which is the part of the planets and its central lamp gives light to the other lamps, just as the sun does to the planets. The menorah was placed at the southern wall of the sanctuary because the planets move within the southern part of the celestial hemisphere. 66 Josephus argues that the menorah has a cosmic significance, because the seven lamps are representing the seven planets. 67 Now it has to be noted that the tree of life is also associated with the idea of heaven. In II Enoch the tree of life stands in the middle of Paradise and it is identified with the presence of God. There “the Lord rests.” 68 “In III Enoch it is referred that ‫( שכינה‬shekinah) 69 was under the tree of life, on a cherub, in the Paradise.” 70 It is quite probable that from the earliest faces of evolution the symbol of the tree of life was connected to the idea of journeying high, up to heaven or heavens. The Assyrian depiction of the tree, with Assur at the top and its branches forming a kind of stages or steps of a ladder, clearly points to this direction. Furthermore the idea of a hero, who is journeying high to heaven / heavens, where he is able to enter the pardes and to find the elixir of life or the herb of life, strengthens this assumption. 71 The period when the actual association of the tree with the ladder of ascension takes place is after the Babylonian Captivity. It is at the exact same period of time that the birth of the apocalyptic genre is believed to have also taken place. As it is known, traditions of ascent to heaven abound in the apocalyptic texts. Still in many instances we find that the number of heavens, which the hero must pass in order to reach the heavenly sanctuary is seven. 72 Furthermore, the mythic origin of the soul and its association with the stars has been verified in Plato’s work. In Phaedrus (246b-246c) there is the interesting icon of the chariot of the soul with its wings. 73 64.  Friedman 2007: 33. 65.  Philo, Mos. II, 102,105. 66.  Philo, Young 2001: 402–404. 67.  Josephus, War 5, 217. 68.  II Enoch 8:3. 69.  The Shekinah is the manifestation of God’s glory, the presence of God ‘dwelling’ in the midst of His people. Miller 2007: 8–9. 70.  Zarras 2000: 212. 71.  Breslauer 2011: 171–172. 72.  Collins 1995: 59–93. 73. Plato, Phaedrus 246b: “ψυχὴ πᾶσα παντὸς ἐπιμελεῖται τοῦ ἀψύχου, πάντα δὲ οὐρανὸν περιπολεῖ, ἄλλοτ’ ἐν ἄλλοις εἴδεσι γιγνομένη. Τελέα [246c] μὲν οὖν οὖσα καὶ ἐπτερωμένη μετεωροπορεῖ τε καὶ πάντα τὸν κόσμον διοικεῖ, ἡ δὲ πτερορρυήσασα φέρεται ἕως ἂν στερεοῦ τινος ἀντιλάβηται, οὗ κατοικισθεῖσα, σῶμα γήϊνον λαβοῦσα, αὐτὸ αὑτὸ δοκοῦν

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Fig. 1.  The 3-foot-long stone block, which was found in the center of the Synagogue of Magdala and it features a seven-branched menorah.

In Timaios (41d 4–8) the souls are equal in number with the stars. 74 Therefore, through the eyes of the ancient man the heavenward journey of the soul seems to be the most natural thing in the world. That is why in Daniel 12:3 we see that the fate of the righteous or the wise ones is again linked with the stars. In I Enoch, II Enoch, in the Apocalypse of Abraham, in the Visions of Isaiah, in the Qumranic material too, the hero has to travel through heavens in order to reach the throne of God and his long awaited reward. 75 Now, the extremely important material found in Philo of Alexandria concerning the menorah and its connection to the sun and the planets, is certainly older than his time. Philo’s environment (1st century) has played a major role in the formation of his records. 76 It is most probable that Philo analyzed older traditions, concerning the heavenly spheres and the planets, in order to find out the spiritual meaning of menorah. 77 He speaks about the sequence of the planets in connection to the seven branches of the menorah. The idea of heavenly ascension is only one second away. In such a away the idea of ascension permeates both the ladder and the menorah. The transition of the soul from the cosmic sphere of things to the metacosmic one is thus spatial and temporal at the same time. The soul travels to its heavenly abode by passing κινεῖν διὰ τὴν ἐκείνης δύναμιν.” “The soul in her totality has the care of inanimate being everywhere, and traverses the whole heaven in divers forms appearing–when perfect and fully winged she soars upward, and orders the whole world; whereas the imperfect soul, losing her wings and drooping in her flight at last settles on the solid ground-there, finding a home, she receives an earthly frame which appears to be self-moved, but is really moved by her power.” 74. Plato, Timaios 41d 4–8: “Ταῦτ᾽ εἶπε, καὶ πάλιν ἐπὶ τὸν πρότερον κρατῆρα, ἐν ὧ τὴν τοῦ παντὸς ψυχὴν ἔμισγεν, τὰ τῶν πρόσθεν ὑπόλοιπα κατεχεῖτο μίσγων τρόπον μέν τινα τὸν αὐτόν, ἀκήρατα δὲ οὐκέτι κατὰ ταῦτα ὡσαύτως, ἀλλὰ δεύτερα καὶ τρίτα. συστήσας δὲ τὸ πᾶν διεῖλεν ψυχὰς ἰσαρίθμους τοῖς ἄστροις, ἔνειμέν θ᾽ ἑκάστην πρὸς ἕλαστον καὶ ἐμβάσας ὡς ἐς ὄχημα τὴν τοῦ παντὸς φύσιν ἔδειξεν. . .” “Thus he spoke, and once more into the cup in which he had previously mingled the soul of the universe he poured the remains of the elements, and mingled them in much the same manner; they were not, however, pure as before, but diluted to the second and third degree. And having made it he divided the whole mixture into souls equal in number to the stars, and assigned each soul to a star; and having there placed them as in a chariot, he showed the nature of the universe. . .” 75.  Culianu 2009: 28–29. 76.  Horowitz 1998: 61–62. 77.  Philo in Question 73 provides an answer “why is the lampstand turned (and) of pure gold.” According to his answer the lampstand is a symbol of the purest substance, (namely) of heaven. For this reason it is said that it was made of one (piece of) gold.” Ralph 1953: 122–123.

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Fig. 2.  The golden menorah that stands opposite the Western Wall and is constructed according to the biblical description. (Photo taken by Christos G. Karagiannis)

through the heavens, via the planets, living out her sacred time (the hebdomad = η εβδομάδα), in order to fulfill the most ancient ‫( מצווה‬mitzvah) ever addressed to man: likeness (LXX καθ’ ὁμοίωσιν). 78 In such a way, we observe the transition and the connection of all these symbols the tree of life, the ladder and the menorah. The tree, the most important agent of life, the ladder, the depiction of the journey of the soul to heaven and the menorah, the spine of the starry world, constitute one single unity. The discovery of a 1st century Synagogue at Magdala in Galilee is very important because it is one of only seven uncovered in Israel in use during the 1st ce. c.e., when the Jerusalem Temple still stood. The archaeologists brought to light, in the center of the Synagogue, a 3-foot long stone block. This carved block is very strange. On the main surface of this block the following decorations occur from top to bottom: six ivy leaves, as well as two palm trees that flank a large disk–the circle of life. On the vertical surface occurs a menorah between two large, long-handled amphorae for water or olive oil, also a pair of what appears to be fluted columns. These two columns seem to hold an arch and maybe the depiction of the veil that hypothetically was covering the holy object. Dina Avshalom-Gorni, the Israeli archaeologist who excavated the site, believes that the artist who carved the menorah may have modeled his depiction after the actual seven-branched menorah that stood in the Temple, making it a rare representation of the candelabra before the Temple was destroyed by the Romans in 70 c.e.. 79 The position where the block was found, in 78.  Gen. 1.26. 79.  J. Corbett, “Early Synagogues discovered in Israel”, BAR 37:4 (2011).

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the middle of the Synagogue, maybe indicates that it was used for the Torah to be placed on. This carved block from the 1st century Synagogue of Magdala shows that the Jewish craftsman of this stone had the perception that ivy leaves, palm trees, large disk–the circle of life and amphorae, as containers of water or oil, are strongly associated with the most precious symbol of the Jews, the menorah. The idea of the tree of life, which derives from the far ancient past, is hiding under the circle of life and the palm trees. The narrow “brooklet”, that is crafted between the large disk–the circle of life and the two palm trees, takes the water/olive oil from the top of the block to the two amphorae that frame the menorah. Thus hypothetically the water/ olive oil that derives from the circle of life is preserved in the two amphorae in order to support the menorah. In the case that the interpreter of this project chooses the water as the liquid, which flows via the brook, then the circle of life is strongly associated with the water of life and the menorah, the spiritual preserver of life. On the other hand if the liquid is olive oil, then this oil is concentrated in these two amphorae in order to supply the menorah and keep it forever as the spiritual lighthouse of the Law and the guardian of the continuity of life. Both cases show that the creator of this fascinating stone was a man with spiritual knowledge, who knew that the menorah was gradually becoming the most precious symbol for the Jews, as that was associated with the idea of life and the supply of the spiritual way of living. (Fig. 1) (Fig. 2)

References Albright, W. F. 1920 Goddess of Life and Wisdom. Hebraica 36: 258–394. Alspaugh. B. 2004 A Semiotic Analysis of Menorah from the Period of Ancient Israel to the Construction of the First Chanukah Menorah in Third-century Alexandria. Asheville: University of North Carolina Asheville. Ameisenowa, Z. 1938/39  The Tree of Life in Jewish Iconography. Journal of the Warburg Institute II: 326–345. Beebe, S. 2008 Between the Menorah and the Cross: Jesus, the Jews and the Battle for Early Church. USA: Xlibris Corporation. Breslauer, S. D. 2011 Creating a Judaism Without Religion: a Postmodern Jewish Possibility. Lanham, Maryland: University Press of America. Buhl, M. L. 1947 The Goddesses of the Egyptian Tree Cult. JNES 6: 80–97. Carr, M. D. 2011 The Formation of the Hebrew Bible: A New Reconstruction. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Charles, H. R. 1913 Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha of the Old Testament. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Cogliano, F. 2003 The First Reclamation: A People’s History. CAR 118, 476: 609. Collins, Y. A. 1995 The Seven Heavens in Jewish and Christian Apocalypses. Pp. 59–93 in Death, Ecstasy, and Other Worldly Journeys. Edited by J. J. Collins and M. Fishbane. New York: State University of New York Press.

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Cooper, T. 2000 Assyrian Prophecies, the Assyrian Tree, and the Mesopotamian Origins of Jewish Monotheism, Greek Philosophy, Christian Theology, Gnosticism and Much More. JAOS 120: 430–444. Culianu, P. I. 1983 Psychanodia: A survey of the evidence concerning the ascension of the soul and its relevance. Leiden: Brill. Eliade, M. 1958 Patterns in Comparative Religion. New York: Sheed and Ward. Fine, S. 2005 Art and Judaism in the Graeco Roman World: Toward a New Jewish Archaeology. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Friedman, E. 2007 Chanukah Illuminated. Linden: Compass Books. Gray, G. 1914 The History of the seven-branched Candlestick: paper read before the British and American Archaeological Society in Rome on Tuesday, February 11,1914. Rome: G. Berteto. Hayes, H. J., and Mandell R. S. 1998 The Jewish People in Classical Antiquity: From Alexander to Bar Kochba. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press. Hachlili, R. 1998 Ancient Jewish Art and Archaeology in the Diaspora. Koninklÿke: Leiden. Horowitz, M. 1998 Seeds of Virtue and Knowledge. Princeton University Press. Larsen, T. M. 1976 The Old Assyrian City State and Its Colonies. Copenhagen: Akademisk Forlag. Levine, I. L. 2005 The Ancient Synagogue: The First Thousand Years. New Haven and London: Yale University Press. 1999 The Menorah in Ancient Synagogue. Pp. 109–112 in In the Light of the Menorah, A Story of a Symbol. Edited by Y. Israeli. Philadelphia: The Jewish Publication Society. James, O. E. 1966 The Tree of Life: An Archaeological Study. Leiden: Brill. Mettinger T. 2007 The Eden Narrative: A Literary and Religio-historical Study of Genesis 2–3. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Meyers, C. 1992 Lampstand. P. 142 in ABD 4. Edited by D. N. Freedman. New York: Doubleday. Miller, D. P. 2000 Israelite Religion and Biblical Theology: Collected Essays. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press. Miller, R. G. 2007 The Shekinah Glory. USA: Xylonpress. Müller, M. W. 2004 Egyptian Mythology. New York: New York Dover Publications. North, R. 1970 Zechariah’s Seven–Spout Lampstand. Biblica 51: 183–201. Petersen, L. D. 1984 Haggai and Zechariah: A Commentary. OTL. Philadelphia: The Westminster. O’Connor, M. J. 1994 The Holy Land: An Oxford Archaeological Guide from Earliest Times to 1700. Oxford: Oxford Archaeological Guides. Olympiou P. N. 1991 Bamah as a Worship Place at Ancient Israel. Athens. [Greek]

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Parpola, S. 1993 The Assyrian Tree of Life: Tracing the Origins of the Jewish Monotheism and Greek Philosophy. JNES 52/3: 161–208. 1997 Assyrian Prophesies. Helsinki: Helsinki University Press. Pausanias 1984 Guide to Greece. Boston: Penguin Classics. Perrot, N. 1937 Les reprasensations de l’arbre Sacre sur les monuments de Mesopotamie et d’Elam. Paris: Geuthner. Philo of Alexandria; Ralph, M. 1953 Questions and answers on Genesis. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. 2001 (trans.) Young, C. D. The works of Philo: Complete and Unabridged. New York: Hendrickson Publishers. Pettey R. 1990 Asherah, Goddess of Israel. New York: Peter Lang. Pritchard, B. J. ed. 1992 Ancient Near Eastern Texts Relating to the Old Testament. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Reifenberg, A. 1950 Ancient Jewish Arts. New York: Schocken Books. 1953 Israel’s History in Coins. London: East and West Library. Ritner, K. R. 1997–2002  “Coffin Text 159” and “Book of the Dead 109.” 2.10–11. Pp. 58–59 in The Context of Scripture. Edited by Hallo W. W., and Younger K. L. Leiden: Brill. Schäfer, P. 2009 The Origins of Jewish Mysticism. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. Seavay, A. 1988 The Tradition of Masoretic Thought. University Park: Pensylvania University Press. Sperber, D. 1965 The History of Menorah. JJS 16: 135–159. Stubbs, L. D. 2009 Numbers. [Brazos Theological Commentary on the Bible]. Grand Rapids: Michigan, Brazos Press. Ward, A. 2006 Sumerian Myths. Athens: Hermes 2006. [Greek] Wells, B. J. 2000 God’s Holy People: A Theme in Biblical Theology. Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press. Widengren, C. 1951 The King and the Tree of Life in Ancient Near East Religion. Uppsala: Acta Universitatis Upsaliensis, Uppsala University Studies. Winter, I. 1983 The Program of the Throneroom of Assurnasirpal II. Pp. 26–32 in Essays on Near Eastern Art and Archaeology in honor of Charles Kyrle Wilkinson. Edited by Prudence O. Harper, and Holly Pittman. New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Yarden, L. 1971 The Tree of Life: A Study of the Menorah. London: East and West Library. Zaras, K. 2000 The Ancient Jewish Mystic Tradition of the Throne. PhD. Dissertation. Thessaloniki University. [Greek]

The Ponderal Systems of Qatna Luigi Turri

Verona / Udine During the MBA and the first part of the LBA, Qatna was situated at the centre of a supra-regional exchange network, that connected Mesopotamia, Egypt, Anatolia and the Mediterranean world. Some of the main routes connecting the coast to the east and Egypt to the north passed through the city that become an important political and economic centre. In this context, the public administration as well as the merchants and artisans must have dealt with envoys, trade items and customs that came from different and distant regions. A complex economic, cultural and social system must have characterized life in the city, which must have affected its inhabitants also with regard to practical issues, such as the weighing system.

The Texts Till now, all the available information concerning the weighing system in use at Qatna came from the tablets of the “Inventory of the Treasure of the goddess Ninegal”, found in the 1920s by the Comte du Mesnil du Buisson in the Royal Palace. 1 In one of the 4 copies (copy D), we read at the 5th line of the 1st column that a certain vessel weighs 1/3 mina and 5 shekels. But in another copy (copy C) it is apparently stated that the same objects weighs 25 shekels, implying a mina-to-shekels ratio of 1:60. A new analysis of the original text of copy C of the Inventory of the Treasure of Nin-Egal is needed. Bottéro, who published the copy, the transliteration, the translation and a commentary on the texts, personally saw only copy B, in which only the front is preserved (columns 1–3), and the severely damaged copy D. He never saw copy C and studied the reverse of copy A (columns 4–5) only from a minuscule photographie. 2 The value that interests us is at the very beginning of column 1 (line 5), but in copy B this position corresponds to a gap. So he was able to read it only on copy D, where he saw 1/3 manê 5 šiqlū šuqulla-šu, but in his footnote to this line he refers to a value of 25 šiqlū for copy C.  3 Since he never saw the latter text, this observation could be based only on the first preliminary collated publication of the Inventory made by Virolleaud in 1930 4 or on some notes that Bottéro perhaps received from him. Thus Virolleaud was the only one who saw this text, whose actual location is unknown. 5 It is not in the collection of the Louvre and therefore must 1.  Du Mesnil du Buisson 1928: 10–12 and 23–24. 2.  Bottéro 1949 (quote from pag. 2). 3.  Bottéro 1949: 138 (transliteration), 139 (translation), 190 (Recension B) and 198 (Recension D). 4.  Virolleaud 1930: 310 (transliteration) and 327 (translation). 5.  Fales 2004: 88–89 and n. 16.

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presumably be in the store of a museum somewhere in Syria. It should be stressed that this is the only occurrence of a value that is written differently in two of the 4 copies. Moreover, (when applicable) weights are normally recorded as 1/3, 1/2, or 2/3 of a mina + X shekels, as we can read in the copies and transliterations made by Bottéro, but they have been transformed by the author into whole numbers in his translation, so 1/3 mina becomes 20 shekels, and so on. Hence it cannot be excluded that Virolleaud, transliterating the tablet with the traditional Mesopotamian minato-shekel ratio of 1:60 in mind, wrote by oversight 25 shekels instead of 1/3 mina and 5 shekels. No other known text from Qatna gives hints about the weighing system used there and no study aimed at understanding it has been conducted till now on the basis of the archaeological finds.

The Objects In this paper I try to partially fill this information gap.  During 12 years of Syrian-Italian excavations on the site, nearly 100 objects that could be interpreted as weights were found. They were lying in different areas of the city and belong to different phases of its life, starting from the MBA up to the IA III. The biggest concentration of weights comes from an area placed to the east of the Royal Palace. It is known that during the Late Bronze Age, Qatna’s royal citadel was composed of a complex system of auxiliary official buildings with palatial function surrounding the Royal Palace (Operations G, H and R). 6 These buildings are know as the Lower City Palace (Area K) 7 and the Southern Palace (Area C). 8 Immediately to the east of the Royal Palace, in Operation T, a new monumental building, called the “Eastern Palace” due to its location, was recently brought to light, revealing something of the Middle Bronze Age public architecture of the city, till then unknown. 9 Part of the excavated area was already occupied during the EBA by domestic structures with installations for cooking activities, such as several tannurs, that were built in what might have been an open area–but the construction of later buildings extensively cut the previous levels, making their interpretation quite difficult. During the Middle Bronze Age two buildings, that have been termed the Northern and Southern Buildings, were built approximately at the same time. The Eastern Palace (Area T2-T3) is the result of modifications made to these two pre-existing structures. They were connected by several walls that created a new room, transforming them into the new Palace, while leaving the internal layout of the previous buildings roughly unchanged. Its status as a palatial building is clear: the door jambs of this room were coated with a layer of black painted plaster, to imitate the basalt orthostats so typical of Syrian architecture; a courtyard was added in front 6.  Morandi 2007: 78. On the Royal Palace, see du Mesnil du Buisson 1935; Pfälzner 2007 (Area G, Syro-German Team); Barro 2003 and Morandi 2008 (Area H, Syro-Italian Team); al-Maqdissi 2003a (area R Syrian Team). 7.  On Area K, excavated by the Syro-Italian Team, see Luciani 2003. 8.  On Area C, excavated by the Syrian Team, see Al-Maqdissi 2003a and Al-Maqdissi 2003b. 9.  On Area T, excavated by the Syro-Italian and the Syrian Teams, see Morandi et al. 2009. See especially Morandi et al. 2009: 63–64 (EBA), 64–73 (Area T2-T3), 70–71 and note 29 (Rooms P and AE – a comprehensive publication of the metallurgical workshop is in preparation), 73 (graves), 86–90 (Area T4), 90 (IA II/III), 93–101 (LBA II dwelling), 101–107 (glacis).

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of the main entrance of the former Southern Building, giving to the new palace a more monumental aspect; and later on, two new wings were added to the sides of the courtyard. The Palace was organized on different levels, probably because of the irregularity of the bedrock. Because of the subsequent deep erosion and the Iron Age cuts already mentioned, it is impossible to determine the functions of the northern rooms. The southern ones, though, were certainly used as a large metallurgical workshop.  One of the rooms (Room P) contains two platforms that functioned as supports for pyrotechnical installations C14-dated to the MBA II, while a huge furnace was excavated in Room AE. Many of the weights discussed below were found in this area. The Palace was then abandoned at the end of the Middle Bronze Age, contemporary with the building of the Royal Palace, whose eastern wall stands 40 m to the west. The area connecting the ruins of the Eastern Palace with the new Royal Palace (Area T4), occupied during the MBA I by installations associated with the storage of agricultural produce, was crossed at this time by a large pit, dug after the demolition of the western wing of the Eastern Palace, possibly for quarrying raw material for brick manufacture. Once its original function had expired, it was used for rubbish disposal, marked by the presence of accumulations of various types: ash, crumbled mud-bricks, and a considerable quantity of well-preserved objects which date the dump to the second half of the Late Bronze Age. Among them there were also several weights. Some weights were found in the fourteen layers of the bastion-glacis system, which abutted the plastered Palace wall. They were mixed with fragmentary painted plaster, pottery and other objects, probably damaged or disused items from the palace. The glacis could be dated from the MBA II (the lower layers) to the LBA II (at the top). Its function was probably to protect the eastern palace façade and to increase the stateliness of its appearance. During the Late Bronze Age the structures of the “Eastern Palace” still standing were mostly unoccupied and some graves were dug in it, but during the LBA II, after the destruction of the Royal Palace, a dwelling covering more than 200 m2 was built in the western part of the excavation area, immediately to the east of the Royal Palace and partially over its fallen eastern wall. Other weights were found on the floors of this building. The last sporadic houses, dating to the IA II/III and built with poor techniques and materials, were discovered in Area T4, over the dump. This brief description makes clear that it is impossible to date most of these weights with any certainty, since they come from pits or accumulations. The only specimens in primary contexts come from the C14-dated MBA II room or from the LBA II dwelling. The others were found in secondary contexts, in layers that on the basis of the finds could be dated from the LBA to the IA II/III. With regard to the materials used, the heaviest weights, 80 g or more, are made mainly of dense basalt (or in one case, limestone), while the lighter ones are made mostly of hematite. Only one duck-shaped hematite specimen weighs more than 80g, reaching nearly 140g, while on the other hand one basalt sphere weighs only 2.8g. The shapes of the 39 weights may be reduced to three main typologies, with some variants. The most common one is the sphere (figs. 1, 2). One of the samples is hemispherical (fig. 3), while others are flattened on the bottom or elongated on one side to assume a drop-like shape. They are made mainly of hematite (13 examples),

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but three are made of basalt and possibly four of clay. I have said ‘possibly’ because there must be some doubt as to whether all of the last category were really balance weights, even if they look alike and their weights fit: clay mass reduces during firing and the final weight could have been unpredictable. Many of the spherical items were found in the LBA II dwelling, together with numerous small bronze tools— thin blades in particular—that could have been produced in the same building. Fifteen weights are loaf-shaped or conical (figs. 4, 5) and made of basalt—and just one is made of limestone. Most of them come from a certain MBA context (9 pieces) while the others are from LBA fills or the dump. One was discovered in the walls of a small IA II building. Two zoomorphic weights reproduce the typical resting-duck motif. One of these specimens, rectangular in shape and from a secondary context, is only roughed-out in basalt (fig. 8); the other, found in a room near the furnace of the Eastern Palace, is made instead of hematite and is definitely of a higher quality (fig. 6). The ovoidal outline, with a flat base, is carefully carved on both sides. Wings, feathers, neck and head are depicted through the use of deeply engraved lines, while two holes stand for the eyes. Two more non-piercing holes are cut on the back of the piece. A third weight, pyriform, resembles the resting-duck motif because of the handle bent like a duck neck, but is actually lacking in details such as head or wings (fig. 7). A unique piece is in solid basalt, cut on the top and bottom in the shape of a fourleaved clover, with the sides following this outline (fig. 9). The specimen that weighs 480g, almost exactly equal to one western mina, was unfortunately found in the fill of a pit dug in an Iron Age II/III context and situated just under modern levels.

The Weighing Systems 10 As regards the weighing system used, it seems that almost all those known to have been in use in this period are found in Qatna. 11 Starting with the lighter weights, the most-used shekel standards seem to be the Mesopotamian 8.4g and the Aegean 6.71g and 5.5g 12 standards. The last of these is rather interesting because it is represented by 5 specimens, weighing almost exactly ½, 1 and 2 times the mean weight known for this standard. It should also be noted that all the examples that could represent fractions or multiples of the Ugarit/Levantine 9.4g unit 13—all made of hematite—could be connected as well to the 6.71g unit (with different values, even if the values regarding the Levantine shekels would have been rather unusual). Apparently the Hittite 11.75g and the Carkemish/Ebla 7.83g 14 shekels are scarcely attested or absent among small spherical weights. 10.  It is important to specify that in the conversion from the actual weight in grams of the pieces to the fractions or multiples of the different standards, I have considered only those values within +5% and –5% of the expected weight, an error that is accepted as very low by almost all scholars. 11.  On the different weighing systems, see the pioneering works by Parise, especially Parise 1981. An excellent and up-to-date presentation of the status quaestionis may be found in Ascalone – Peyronel 2006, accompanied by a comprehensive bibliography. 12.  The first was identified by Parise 1971; for the second see Zaccagnini 1986. 13.  This standard, sometimes called Egyptian in the literature, was proposed by Schaeffer 1937: 147–149. 14.  On this standard, sometimes also called Syrian in the literature, see Zaccagnini 1978 and Parise 1984.

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Moving on to the heaviest specimens, the situation changes a little and it seems really possible that people working with these weights were actually able to use all the known systems. Several multiples that would have made it easy to shift from the Carkemish/Eblaite standard of 7.83g to the Levantine standard of 9.4g, the Hittite standard of 11.75 g and the Aegean standard of 6.71 g are attested (based respectively on multiples of 6, 5, 4 and 7) and most of them come from contexts connected with the MBA II metallurgical workshop. None of them could be connected to the Mesopotamian standard of 8.4g. The Mesopotamia standard is anyhow attested to by several examples and even if it is possible that a specimen weighing 1 Mesopotamian mina of 504g, made up of 60 8.4g-shekels, is present, it is interesting to notice that many of these weights are multiples of five of this shekel (5, 10, 20 or 25). This fact seems to point to the possibility that a mina unit weighing 420g, consisting of 50 Mesopotamian shekels of 8.4g, was in use, as already suggested by several scholars. 15 One of the values that connect all the other standards, the 139g weight, could represent 1/3 of this mina and even if not convertible in round figures to the Mesopotamian shekel, it would have in any case constituted a link to the Mesopotamian system. 16 A very interesting weight is the hematite duck-shaped piece, found in room J of the Eastern Palace, a room that was in connection with the big furnace of room AE, where copper or bronze was melted, and not far from the finding spot of silver fragments on other pyrotechnical installations (Room P). Not only does it weigh almost exactly the same as other weights (at least one of them duck-shaped) found around the Mediterranean 17 from the end of the EBA onwards, or as several of the silver bullion bars of the Treasure A of Troy II, 18 but it also permits a rather precise conversion in whole digits between the different standards (even if not in the aforementioned multiples of 4, 5, 6, or 7, but including also the Mesopotamian and the Eastern Aegean shekel). It would be interesting to investigate if it was a unit used by silversmiths. Another two interesting specimens–one of them duck-shaped–weigh 700g each, i.e., 1½ times a western mina of 470g, and permit as well a conversion in whole numbers between all the systems, excepting only that of the Eastern Aegean. In particular, these weights could also be connected with the long discussed mina for wool: their weight corresponds to one of the theoretical weights of one sheep’s fleece, excluding the rejects, according to Zaccagnini’s interpretation of text AlT 361. 19 The text says: (1) 8 talent 1,800 shekels of wool (2) from 308 wool-bearing sheep (3) by Kippuga (4) were plucked. (5) 2,700 shekels of which (6) are not good.

15.  This mina was suggested by Parise 1984, 18–21. See also Zaccagnini 1999–2001: 45–48. 16.  It is not uncommon to find in the texts a value of 33 1/3 shekels, clearly 2/3 of a 50-shekel mina. 17.  E.g. see Bobokhyan 2006: 119 tab.4 n.10 for Sparta; Bobokhyan 2006: 112 tab.1 nn.38–39 for Troy; Michailidou 2006: 246 for Akrotiri. 18.  Bobokhyan 2006: 88 and 120 tab.5 nn.1–4. 19.  Zaccagnini 1999–2001: 52–54.

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Figs. 1–9.  Weights from Qatna.

Converting it in digits, we obtain: (8 talents x 3,000 shekels) + 1,800 shekels = 25,800 shekels of wool 25,800–2,700 shekels of bad wool = 23,100 shekels of good wool 23,100 shekels / 308 sheep = 75 shekels/sheep

Thus the standard weight of one sheep’s fleece at Alalakh would have been of 75 shekels, that is 1½ mina at a ratio of 1:50, corresponding to 705g at the standard

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Levantine shekel weight of 9.4g. 20 One of the two Qatna specimens which has this weight comes from an abandonment layer dating to the LBA/IA, while the other (the zoomorphic one) was included in the building material of a wall of an IA II 20.  A lead disk of the same weight was also found in the Aegean area, at Akrotiri, see ibid.

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house in area T1, so it is not possible to establish the original context in which they were used, but in fact there was a large weaving and dyeing workshop not far from the area during the IA II. Finally, considering the heaviest weights, some interesting considerations regarding the minas in use at Qatna could be made. The first thing to notice is that the western mina of 470g is well attested in all its most common values: 1/6, 1/5, 1/3, 1/2, 2/3, 1 and also (as just mentioned) 1½ and 4, making it surely the most used standard. The fractions permit calculations to be easily made, both for a mina of ratio 1:60, connected with the Carkemish/Eblaite shekel of 7.83g (1/6, 1/3, 1/2, 2/3, 1), and for one of ratio 1:50, linked to the Levantine shekel of 9.4g (1/5, 1/2, 1). Other specimens that seem not to be related to this mina could be connected with the well-known Mesopotamian mina of 504g, with the values of 1/6, 1/3 and 1(widely attested, including references in written sources) and possibly also with the rather unusual 3/4. Moreover, the weights that seem to be connected with neither of the previous minas point to the existence of the metrological “hybrids” proposed by Parise and Zaccagnini; a mina of 564g connected to the Levantine shekel of 9.4g, but with a ratio of 1:60, as used in Mesopotamia–the so-called “mina of Carkemish”–that could be represented by its 1/3 and 2/3 fractions; 21 and a light mina of 420g, already mentioned, connected to the Mesopotamian shekel of 8.4g with a western ratio of 1:50, that could be represented by its 1/3 and 1/2 fractions. It is interesting to notice that, although each weight could be connected to whole-digit multiples of different shekel standards, each one seems to refer only to a single mina standard.

Conclusions To conclude, which system was the preferred one in Qatna? It is clear that the western standard of 470g was the most common for the mina, but it is hard to give an answer regarding the value of the shekel, since all of the different systems seems to have been widely useable on the basis of the weights found. We can try to answer the question in the light of the passage mentioned from the inventory of the goddess Ninegal that suggests, if the traditional reading is correct, the local use of a sexagesimal system. This could also be supported by the frequency in the text of the values of 3, 6 and 15 shekels (occurring respectively 5, 4 and 4 times) or of 1/3 and 2/3 mina (3 and 4 times). The systems using a sexagesimal base were that of Carkemish/Ebla, for which there is scarce archaeological evidence regarding fractions of the 7.83 shekel, and the Mesopotamian, apparently less common than the other with respect to multiples of the 8.4g shekel. Another theoretical possibility is that the “mina of Carkemish” was used as the basis for a system connected with the Levantine 9.4g shekel, but this seems to be contradicted by the high number of specimens potentially connected to the western mina of 470g. Moreover, considering the various systems for which there is archaeological evidence, it is possible that each particular field used a different privileged system and thus the one used for the 21.  This mina was proposed by Zaccagnini 1979: 472–473 n. 2. This value seems to be widely attested both chronologically and geographically, see e.g. an Early Bronze IV weight found in Palace G at Ebla (Archi 1987: 41) or a duck-shaped Iron Age weight from Tell Shiukh Fauqani (Zaccagnini 2005). On this topic see also Ascalone 2011.

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religious practices referred to by the tablets might not correspond to those used by the smiths or by other artisans.

References Alberti, M. E., Ascalone, E., Peyronel L., eds. 2006 Weights in context. Bronze Age Weighing Systems of the Eastern Mediterranean: Chronology, Typology, Material and Archaeological Contexts. Roma: Istituto Italiano di Numismatica. Al-Maqdissi, M. 2003a Ergebnisse der siebten und achten syrischen Grabungskampagnen 2001 und 2002 im Misrife-Qatna. MDOG 135: 219–245. 2003b Recherches archéologiques syriennes à Mishirfeh-Qatna au nord-est de Homs (Émèse). CRAIB 147: 1487–1515. Archi, A. 1987 Reflections on the System of the Weights from Ebla. Eblaitica 1: 47–89. Ascalone, E. 2006 Tell es-Sultan/Jerico weight Systems. New evidences of Weights from Inner Palestine durin the Easrly and Middle Bronze Age. Pp.  161–183 in Alberti, Ascalone, Peyronel (eds.) 2006. 2011 Mina e doppia mina a Susa. La mina di ca. 564g e i rapporti di cambio con le unità occidentali. Pp. 58–64 in Studi italiani di metrologia ed economia del Vicino Oriente Antico, dedicati a Nicola Parise nel suo ottantesimo compleanno. Edited by Ascalone, E., and Peyronel, L. Roma: Herder. Ascalone, E., Peyronel, L. 2006 a Balance weights from Tell Mardikh-Ebla and the weighing systems in the Levant during the Middle Bronze Age. Pp. 127–159 in Alberti, Ascalone, Peyronel (eds.) 2006. 2006 b I pesi da bilancia del Bronzo Antico e del Bronzo Medio. MASE VII.  Roma: Università degli Studi di Roma “La Sapienza”. Barro, A. 2003 Rediscovering “le Palais”: New Data from the Royal Palace of Qatna (Operation H). Akkadica 124/1: 78–96. Bobokhyan, A. 2006 Identifying balance weights and weight system in Bronze Age Troy: preliminary reflection. Pp. 71–125 in Alberti, Ascalone, Peyronel (eds.) 2006. Bottéro, J. 1949 Les inventaires de Qatna. RA 43: 1–40, 137–215. du Mesnil du Buisson, R. 1928 L’ancienne Qatna ou les ruines d’el-Mishrifé au N.-E. de Homs (Émèse). Deuxième campagne de fouilles, 1927 (2e et 3e article). Syria 9: 6–24, 81–89. 1935 Le site archéologique de Mishrife-Qatna. Paris: De Boccard Fales, F. M. 2004 Rileggendo gli inventari di Qatna. KASKAL 1: 83–127. Luciani, M. 2003 The Lower City of Qatna in the Late Bronze and Iron Ages: Operation K. Akkadica 124: 144–163. Morandi Bonacossi, D., ed. 2007 Urban and Natural Landscapes of an Ancient Syrian Capital: Settlement and Environment at Tell Mishrifeh/Qatna and in Central-Western Syria Studi. Archeologici su Qatna 1. Documents d’archéologie Syrienne XII. Udine: Forum. Morandi Bonacossi, D. 2008 The Acropolis of Tell Mishrifeh During the Second and First Millennia BC. Preliminary Results of the Work of the Italian Component of the Syrian-Italian-German Project at

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Tell Mishrifeh/Qatna. Pp. 361–376 in The Proceedings of the 4th International Congress of the Archaeology of the Ancient Near East , vol. II. Berlin: Harrassowitz Verlag. Morandi Bonacossi, D. et al. 2009 The “Eastern Palace” and the residential architecture of Area T at Mishrifeh/Qatna. Preliminary Report on the 2006–2008 Excavation Campaigns of the Italian Component of the Syro-Italian Archaeological Project. Mesopotamia 44: 61–112 and Pls. I-VI. Parise, N. 1970–1971  Per uno studio del sistema ponderale ugaritico. Dialoghi di archeologia 4–5: 3–36. 1971 Un’unità ponderale egea a Capo Gelidonya. SMEA 14: 163–170. 1981 Mina di Ugarit, mina di Karkemish, mina di Khatti. Dialoghi di archeologia NS 3/3: 155–160. 1984 Unità ponderali e rapporti di scambio nella Siria del Nord. Pp. 125–138 in Circulation of Goods in Non-Palatial Context in the Ancient Near East. Proceedings of the International Conference organized by the Istituto per gli studi Micenei ed Egeo-Anatolici. Edited by A. Archi. Roma: Edizioni dell’Ateneo. 1994 Ricerche ponderali. Istituto Italiano di Numismatica, Annali 38–41: 13–21. Pfälzner, P. 2007 Archaeological Investigations in the Royal Palace of Qatna. In Morandi Bonacossi 2007: 29–64. Virolleaud, C. 1930 Les tablettes de Mishrifé-Qatna. Syria 11: 311–342. Wiseman, D. J. 1953 The Alalakh Tablets. Occasional Publications of the British Institute of Archaeology at Ankara, No. 2. London: British Institute of Archaeology at Ankara. Zaccagnini, C. 1979 Notes on the Weights System at Alalakh VII. OrNS 48: 472–475. 1986 Aspects of copper Trade in the Eastern Mediterranean during the Late Bronze Age. Pp. 416–424 in Traffici micenei nel Mediterraneo. problemi storici e documentazione archeologica..Edited by Marrazzi, M., Tusa, S., Vagnetti, L. Palermo: Istituto per la storia e l’archeologia della Magna Grecia. 1999–2001  The Mina of Karkemis and Other Minas. SAAB 13: 39–56. 2005 The Weights of Tell Shiukh Fawqani–Burmarina. Pp. 581–584 in Tell Shiukh Fawqani 1994–1998. Hane/M VI vol.1. Bachelot, L., Fales, F. M. Padova: S.A.R.G.O.N.

French Excavations in Qasr Shemamok-Kilizu (Iraqi Kurdistan): The First Mission (2011) Olivier Rouault and Maria Grazia Masetti-Rouault Lyons and Paris

0. Introduction Qasr Shemamok is a well known site in Iraqi Kurdistan, located in the heart of Assyria, on the left bank of the Upper Zab, close to where it joins the Tigris 1 (fig. 1). It is a large tell, situated close to the village of Tarjan, on the road to Gwer, around 30 km south-west of Erbil, and north of the Makhmur plain. It has been identified as the remains of the ancient city of Kakzu/Kilizu/Kilizi since the 19th century, when Layard visited the region, noticed the tell, and began an excavation of the site. 2 The discovery of a cuneiform inscription on a brick, mentioning the construction, by the Assyrian king Sennacherib, of the inner and outer walls of the town of Kilizu, read then as Kakzu, permitted an early identification of the ancient name of the site. However, because this initial examination of the tell did not yield as rich and interesting results as had been expected, the excavations in Qasr Shemamok were quickly abandoned. Only much later, in 1932, an Italian mission under the direction of Prof. G. Furlani, from the University of Florence, accompanied by D. Levi, carried out a single campaign here, beginning with an examination of the tell and of the large lower town, encircled by a urban wall, added during the Neo-Assyrian period. 3 Among other discoveries, G. Furlani found in the Lower town, west of the tell, a Parthian and Neo-Assyrian necropolis, and, in various locations, including outside the urban perimeter, other Neo-Assyrian cuneiform royal inscriptions on bricks, which confirmed the ancient toponimy of Qasr Shemamok. 4 However, after the Italian excavations, the history of the site itself and the evolution of its urban structure were not much better understood, as a complete report of these excavations was never published–or only in the form of general summaries–with the exception of the findings in the Parthian cemetery. 5 In the recent years, an Italian team has started 1.  Postgate 1980; Anastasio 2004. 2.  Layard 1853: 173 ( plan). 219 ( excavations). 223 (the Qasr). 3.  Furlani 1933, 1934a, 1934b, 1934c, 1934d, 1935a; 1935b. 4.  Furlani 1935b. 5.  Furlani 1934b.

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Fig. 1.  General view of Qasr Shemamok, from North.

to work on the archives and deposits of G. Furlani’s mission, studying and editing the archaeological and epigraphic materials kept in the Florence Archaeological Museum. 6

1.  Short History of the Research Since the Italian excavations in the 30s, Tell Shemamok has not been the object of any other archaeological project, although a first look at the history of this region has been provided by the publication of the program of surveys and sounding carried out in 1948 by Al Amin and Mallowan in the Makhmur plain. 7 Twenty years later, in 1968, the Iraqi archaeologist Abou Al Soof started the excavation of a small tell close to the urban center of Erbil, at Qalinj Agha, where Chalcolithic levels were discovered and studied. 8 Various archaeological operations, surveys and didactical excavations have been carried out periodically since then, by archaeologists of the SBAH (Bagdad), by the local Kurdish Directorate of Antiquities, as well as by the Department of Archaeology of Salahaddin University in Erbil—for example, we can cite the study of the Ainkawa tell, 9 in the Northern neighborhood of Erbil. However, for different reasons, the results of these sometimes important operations have had rather limited circulation, or, have even remained largely unpublished. In recent years, the situation has greatly changed. A new interest in the study and in the conservation of national heritage, in Erbil and in all the Kurdish regions, has promoted the activities of the local scientific teams, as well as the arrival in the 6.  Anastasio 2005/8, 2007. 7.  El Amin and Mallowan 1949. 8.  Abou al Soof 1969. 9.  Khalaf et al. 2004.

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country of various foreign and European missions, a situation helping the exchange of information. Often invited by local authorities, and working in collaboration with them, archaeologists and specialists of restoration came to evaluate the possibilities of archaeological works and researches in the entire Kurdish region, sometimes with an interest in the study of the ancient levels of the famous Erbil citadel, the splendid Arbela of Neo-Assyrian times, one of the last Assyrian capital cities not yet to have been excavated. Among the most important operations developed in the last decade, the research and restoration work in Erbil conducted by Dr. K. Novacek, from the University of West Bohemia in Pilsen, along with his team, must surely be mentioned. The Czech archaeologists have published an important report of a survey and soundings on the citadel, carried out in 2006–2008, 10 and followed by other works. A project of excavations in the same area is currently being developed by J. MacGinnis, from Cambridge University. In the Southern part of Kurdistan, in the Sulaimaniya area, a Dutch team, directed by D. Mejier and W. Van Soldt, has started excavations, after a survey, in the Iron I-II site of Satu Qala, while a German mission, directed by P. Miglus, from Heidelberg University, has been working in Bakrawa. Another German team, under the responsibility of M. Van Ess, has been collaborating with the local Direction of Antiquities in the study of some Neo-Assyrian tombs found in downtown Erbil. Thanks to the intervention of Dr. Narmin Ali Mohammed Amen, 11 in 2010 a French Archaeological Mission, with a European and Kurdish team under the direction of O. Rouault, arrived in Erbil to work in the small site of Kilik Mishik, in the Southern outskirts of the town. Accepting an invitation from the Kurdish authorities and from Salahaddin University in Erbil, the organization of our mission also received strong support from the French General Consulate in Erbil. Our general project was centered on the study of the history of the occupations of the Erbil region, with a special attention to the Bronze and Iron Age settlements. At its core, was a research interest in the formation, the development, and the crises of the Assyrian “imperial” power.

2.  French Excavations in the Erbil Region After our first mission in Kilik Mishik (2010), it appeared that in this site, which has a rather complex stratigraphic record, the levels in which we were more interested, Iron I–II, were badly eroded. 12 Beyond the interest associated with its identification, we realized that the study of this site did not correspond exactly to the interest of our research. As it was clear that the Erbil citadel, covered by modern Ottoman period monumental levels, could not be extensively explored, at that point, in order to enlarge the specific field of our research, we decided to move out of the city limits, and to start an excavation project at Qasr Shemamok, ancient Kilizi. In dimension, it is one of the largest sites in the area, after the Erbil tell. We asked and got the agreement and the permit for this project in Qasr Shemamok from the Iraqi Directorate of the Antiquities in Bagdad and from the Kurdish Direction of 10.  Nováček et al. 2008. 11.  From the Salahaddin University in Erbil’s Department of Archaeology. She is also a research associate in the French CNRS UMR 8167, Orient et Méditerranée, Paris. 12.  Rouault 2013.

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Antiquities in Iraqi Kurdistan (dir. A. O. Zainadin and Mala Awat). Since then, the excavations and studies in Kilik Mishik continue, under the total responsibility of the Salaheddin University Department of Archaeology.

3.  Qasr Shemamok: A Description Thanks to the financial support of the French Ministry of Foreign and European Affairs, 13 and again with the help of the French Consulate in Erbil, 14 as well as of the Kurdish Ministry of Municipalities, 15 our first operations on the field started on April 2011, in cooperation with the Erbil Direction of Antiquities and the Salahaddin University. These institutions sent some colleagues and students to work with our team, composed mainly of members coming from Universities in Paris and Lyon. 16 Our first activities on the tell have consisted of a general survey of its surface, in order to realize and take properly into account its characteristics, its shape and orientation, as well as its position in the landscape of the valley. The site is composed of three main areas (fig.2). The “tell” itself, the acropolis in the north, on the left bank of the river Shiwazor, covers a surface of around 8 hectares, for a height of around 30 meters over the surrounding plain. The surface of the much larger “lower town” extends for more than 60 hectares south of the acropolis. It is well visible being some meters higher than the plain, depending on the degree of erosion. Expanding more in an east/west orientation, Kilizi lower town has a characteristic oval, or half circle, form, marked by the presence of an ancient urban wall, highlighted already in Furlani’s work. Finally, all around the structured urban area composed by the acropolis and the lower town, there is a large surface, marked by the presence of the remnants of ancient occupations, extending north, along the bank of the river Shiwazor, and well beyond. Clearly visible in the aerial pictures, these large anthropic surfaces are not immediately distinguishable at the ground level, as they are often integrated in the fields and cultivated areas of the bordering villages. While the upper part of the tell—the acropolis—is now free of any kind of occupation, the Lower town is covered by fields and orchards, partially irrigated by pumps taking the water from the river Shiwazor. Moreover, its most Southern part, which has a remarkably higher elevation, is covered by the new houses of the small village of Sa’adawa, apparently rebuilt recently in a slightly different position, after the destruction of their original setting, as shown by Furlani’s architect’s plan. A well, possibly in the same position as the Neo-Assyrian one identified by the Italian mission, is still in use. Some tracks are cut into the lower town, and into the tell itself. The main one, running north/south, is the continuation of the road coming from the highway Erbil/ 13.  As well as of the French CNRS teams UMR 8167—Orient et Méditerranée, Laboratoire Mondes Sémitiques, Paris, and UMR 5133, Archéorient, Maison de l’Orient et de la Méditerranée, Lyon. 14.  The mission would have not been carried out successfully without the support of Dr. F. Tissot, General Consul of France, and of Ms. A. Banzet, Director of the French Cultural Center in Erbil. 15. We would like to thank for her help and constant support Mrs. Gouhar Shemdin, architect, Special Adviser of the Minister of Municipalities for Heritage and Conservation matters. 16.  The 2011 Spring team was composed of O. Rouault (Lyons2 University), M.G. Masetti-Rouault,( EPHE, Paris), J. MacGinnis, (Cambridge University), N. Ali Mohammed Amin (Salaheddin University), I. Calini, D. Pevear (PhD students, EPHE, Paris), C. Reynes (PhD student, Lyons2 University), F. Gnidzaz (MA student, Lyons2 University), A. Othman (MA student, Lyons2 and Salaheddin Universities student), F. Defendenti (MA student, EPHE).

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Fig. 2.  Plan of the site, the acropolis and the lower town.

Gwer, and goes from Terjan to Sa’adawa. It enters the lower town from the west of the base of the acropolis, after a small bridge, crossing the Shiwazor to the north of the site. This river later enters the Khordabeh, an effluent of the Upper Zab. Qasr Shemamok is situated in a part of the valley with plenty of water resources. Beside the Shiwazor, at least two wells were exploited and integrated in the urban system since Neo-Assyrian period, one in Sa’adawa and another one at the eastern limit of the Lower town, still marked by a small elevation in the fields. The Northern side of the tell is very steep, in some places almost vertical. It is cut by the presence of a deep gully, oriented North-East, which G. Furlani already interpreted as the position of the Northern city gate. Its surface is now completely flat, marked only by

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Fig. 3.  Trench A, Southern side of the acropolis.

trenches, shafts and pits left by the military installations from the last conflict. We could not see any trace of the Ottoman fortress quoted by Layard, nor clearly identify the place of the Italian works and excavations on the site. The Assyrian brick wall round the lower town, still in place in the thirties, is now completely eroded.

4.  An archaeological Report Excavations in Qasr Shemamok have been organized, for this season, as a long trench, 68m N/S on 5 m E/O (fig.3), situated on the slope in the Southern part of the site, in an area which had never been explored before. The trench starts at the level of the edge of the surface of the highest part of the tell, and it joins its base, at the limits of the fields. In this position, it could allow the study of the relations between the ancient tell itself and the “lower town”, in the South. The trench—called area A—has been divided into three segments, two of 20 m, and the southernmost segment of 28 m.

4.1.  Trench A1 The first part of the trench, A1, starting from the top of the tell, comprises the most vertical part of the slope. It has been partly disturbed by recent military activities and we found, close to the surface, several caches with machine gun ammunition still active. The first two levels of construction that were in evidence were marked by the presence of small, but well built mud brick structures, with some floors, organizing what seem to be domestic spaces. The ruins appear to belong to two different periods, separated by a level of ashes and the remains of domestic occupations, difficult to date, as the archaeological material is limited. Considering the typology of some ceramic shards found in these contexts, a chronology respec-

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tively during the Early Islamic/ Sassanian period, and during the Parthian period, is possible. On the surface, but clearly linked with these first levels, we found a coin, possibly of late Roman period. An Islamic tomb, possibly quite recent, which has been cut into the first construction level, just on the edge of the tell, was marked and covered by two much more ancient fragments of baked bricks. One of them gave a part of a cuneiform inscription, a royal text of the Neo-Assyrian period, similar to what Layard and Furlani had found in the past. On the second one, some geometric drawings were incised, to create a game board. These fragments were clearly displaced and reused in more recent times. We remarked that the game board fits well with the shape of the fragment of brick, so it must have been drawn on its surface after it was already broken. The building belonging to the more ancient phase of construction of the Early Islamic/ Sassanian and Parthian period is founded on a thick stratum of clay and earth, formed possibly by melted mud bricks. This level is more than two meters deep, showing clear traces of fireplaces and pits, full of ashes and pieces of charcoal. Pits have disturbed this marginal area of the tell, which, before the Parthian settlement, was used for campsites, and possibly also as a space for workshops, with ovens and fires, documented by the presence of ceramic slags. It seems to cover directly the ruins of a mud brick structure, maybe a platform, better identified in the middle segment of the trench.

4.2.  The Trench A2 The excavations in the second part of area A, called A2, 20 to 40m from the northern end of the trench (N/S), just south of A1, allowed the discovery and the study of the remains of a sort of mud brick terrace, immediately under the surface. It could have been built on the top of more ancient structures destroyed and leveled on purpose, maybe in order to support a new urban development on the top of the tell, or as the foundation of a wall. Even if the material found in this context has been quite scanty, for the moment we suppose the construction has been carried out during Iron II/Neo-Assyrian period. The structure extends the full length of the trench. At its southern end, we could expose the remains of more ancient levels, covered and sealed by this terrace. In a fill belonging to this more ancient level we have found some Middle-Assyrian ceramics fragments, as well as fragments of inscribed objects: a piece of a brick, and two fragments of clay nails, one of them bearing a part of a Middle-Assyrian royal name, Arik-den-ili (1317–1306). This material gives for the first time good evidence of the Assyrian control of the town well before the end of the Second millennium B.C.

4.3.  The Trench A3 In the third segment of our trench, A3, close to the base of the tell, with only a moderate slope toward the south, the southernmost part of this Iron II mud brick terrace covers another wall. Excavating a pit cutting through it, another structure has been found, which had been covered by this wall. It is a part of a monumental ramp (fig.4), constructed out of baked bricks, around four meters large, and organized in three steps in the space of the trench. This ramp, the first architectural discovery in the tell itself, probably connected its base, and a road in the valley–oriented toward

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Fig. 4.  The ramp.

Arbela—, to a city gate, or to a very important building inside Kilizi citadel. It was built on a platform of mud bricks. The stratigraphy of the area is not clear due to several pits but, for the moment, from the presence of Middle Bronze ceramics all around, we can date the construction of this structure to the Middle-Assyrian period, when the most important occupation of the city was situated on the top of the ancient tell. On the other hand, it is possible that the construction of the ramp is to be associated with the development of the lower town, south of the ancient tell, outside the limits of the Middle Assyrian city, during the Iron II period. South of the ramp, only extensive levels of compacted earth, mixed with shards, have been found, maybe constituting a sort of glacis, to reinforce the base of the tell. More fragments of cuneiform texts, mainly of the Neo-Assyrian period, but also Middle-Assyrian, have been found on the surface of the tell, or in levels quite close to it.

5. Conclusion We consider the results of this first mission important, and not only for the epigraphic discoveries, which have enlarged our knowledge of the history of the city of Kilizi/Kakzu, giving evidence of its importance even in Middle Assyrian times. From an archaeological point of view, the research of the French Mission has offered a first, real image of the chrono-stratigraphic structure of the tell, of the dynamics of its construction and ruin, of the importance of the different levels attested in it. A sequence going from modern, through Early Islamic to Parthian periods, and then from Neo-Assyrian down to Middle-Assyrian times can now be documented, even if, obviously, the lay-out of the trench A has touched only external limited areas of the ancient urban settlement. The presence of fragments of royal inscriptions and

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of important levels with Middle Assyrian shards confirms the importance of the city during that period, well beyond the simple, laconic references in the Assyrian official documents. These results are very encouraging for the future of the French Mission team, and for anyone interested in the history of the country that is now Kurdistan.

References Abou al Soof B. A. 1969 Excavations at Tel Qualinj Agha (Erbil), Summer, 1968. Interim Report. Sumer 25: 3–42. El Amin M., and Mallowan M. E. L. 1949 Soundings in the Makhmur Plain. Sumer 5: 145–153. Anastasio, S. 2004 Shamamuk, Qasr. P. 292 in Atlas of Preclassical Upper Mesopotamia. Edited by Anastasio, S., Lebeau, M. and Sauvage, M. Turnhout. 2005–08  La missione archeologica italiana in Mesopotamia del 1933 e lo scavo di Kilizu (Qasr Shamamuk, Iraq): I materiali conservati a Firenze. Pp. 55–592 in Annuario della Scuola Archeologica Italiana di Atene LXXXIII (III, 5, tomo II, 2005). Bergamo/Roma: SAIA. 2007 La collezione fiorentina dei materiali di Qasr Shamamuk/Kilizu (Iraq), Pp. 216–229 in Egeo, Cipro, Siria e Mesopotamia. Dal collezionismo allo scavo archeologico. In onore di Paolo Emilio Pecorella, Edited by M. C. Guidotti, F. Lo Schiavo and R. Pierobon Benoit. Livorno: Sillabe. Furlani, G. 1933 Scavi italiani in Assiria, in Illustrazione italiana 17, (settembre). 1934a Gli scavi italiani in Assiria (campagna del 1933). Pp. 265–276 in Giornale della Società Asiatica Italiana N.S. II. 1934b Kakzu. Archiv fûr Orientforschung 9: 74–75. 1934c Sarcofagi partici di Kakzu, in Iraq 1: 90–94. 1934d Antropologia della Mesopotamia e sepolture partiche (Missione Archeologica Italiana in Assiria). Archivio per l’Antropologia e l’Etnologia 66: 202–208. 1935a Kakzu-Qasr Šemamok. Rivista degli Studi Orientali 15: 119–142. 1935b Un’inscrizione di Sennacheribbo d’Assiria trovata a Kakzu. Pp.  475–478 in Rendiconti dell’Accademia dei Lincei, serie VI. X. Khalaf Y. et al. 2004 Tell Qasra, publication of the Department of Archaeology of Salaheddin University. Erbil. [Arabic] Layard A. H. 1853 Discoveries in the Ruins of Nineveh and Babylon. London. Nováček K. et al. 2008 Research of the Arbil Citadel, Iraqi Kurdistan, First Season. Pramátky Archeologické XCIX: 259–302. Postgate, J. N. 1980 Kilizu. Pp. 591–593 in Reallexicon der Assyriologie 5/7–8. Rouault, O. 2013 Recent Researches in the Erbil region: 2010 excavations in Kilik Mishik (Iraqi Kurdistan). Pp. 809–21 in Time and History in the Ancient Near East: Proceedings of the 56th Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale at Barcelona, 26–30 July 2010. Edited by L. Feliu, J. Llop, A. Millet Albà, and J. Sanmartín. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns.

The Present in Our Past: The Assyrian Rock Reliefs at Nahr El-Kalb and the Lessons of Tradition Ann Shafer New York

On the twenty-first of September in the year 2000 c.e., bulldozers appeared at the well-known monument site on the Dog River (Nahr el-Kalb) on the Lebanon coast. Overriding a 1937 national heritage law to prevent tampering with the site, the thirteenth president of the Republic of Lebanon, Émile Lahoud, embedded a shining white marble relief into the freshly hewn rock (Fig. 1). Set in direct spatial and symbolic relationship with adjacent monuments, the relief proclaimed the dawning of a new era, of freedom and unity. Some two and a half millennia earlier, the Assyrian king Esarhaddon also did the same (Fig. 2). With similar force, a team of ancient craftsmen raised their chisels to break an equivalent, thirteenth-century Egyptian seal against further incursion. Just like President Lahoud, this relief also championed an unchallenged Assyrian leadership in the region, as well as a unity of Assyrian history and purpose. As these rock reliefs and many others at the site attest, in the present and in the past, carving into the land itself carries a lasting message of sovereignty and self-possession. Today, the national heritage site of “Nahr el-Kalb” contains twenty-two carved rock monuments, ranging in date from the thirteenth century b.c.e. to the late twentieth century c.e. 1 With each ruling power in dialogue with those that came before, the site constitutes a powerful testament to the continuities in military and political interventions in this region over time. Drawing on the rich awareness that transtemporal comparisons can produce, I suggest that at Nahr el-Kalb, the present does indeed have its seed in the past, but more important for our analysis of the Assyrians in particular, the past might also be illuminated by the present. In scholarship, the ancient monuments are usually interpreted as politically-based statements of might. In the process of looking backward from the present, however, I suggest a subtle perceptual shift in our own imaginations about Assyria and its royal placemaking strategies. The present study will thus move away from a monolithic reading of carved land surfaces as political coercion, to an expanded understanding of royal image-making as an act of inhabitation—of history, site, and identity. 1.  The site has been restored as a heritage site and the official numbers will be used here. The most recent and thorough documentation of the site is Anne-Marie Maïla-Afeiche, ed., Le Site de Nahr el-Kalb (BAAL hors-série V. Beirut: Ministère de la culture, Direction Générale des Antiquités, 2009). I would like to extend my gratitude to Dr. Maïla-Afeiche for her generous assistance toward the production of this paper.

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The Nahr el-Kalb heritage site is located twelve kilometers north of the modern city of Beirut, at the point where the Dog River meets the sea. Despite the rapid development of the area within the last half century, including an eightlane autostrade, a walk over the rocky terrain reminds us of the mental and physical challenge it presented in ancient times. 2 In this unique place where the steep coastal topography obstructed easy passage, ancient armies were forced to follow a high road over the uneven landscape. 3 Accompanying craftsmen labored over well-placed carved relief images and/or inscriptions, today scattered among the boulders and brush. 4 Travelers throughout the centuries also ventured to the site and braved its terrain, documenting and thus attempting to possess it according to the concerns and tastes of their time. 5 Although with our modern consumer-sensibilities we might Fig. 1.  Lahoud monument (2000 c.e.), Nahr be tempted to view these ancient images el-Kalb (photo by author). much like advertising billboards, in reality, they are more subtly placed, and instead of being carved to attract and persuade, they might have simply marked and celebrated an attainment of place, especially the breathtaking views of the sea. Indeed over the millennia many a ruling party carved their name into this site, each in full knowledge of, and in response to, what came before. In such a dynamic—a dialogue, really—we find a unique, ready-made framework, an established genealogical line, so to speak, within which to explore cross-temporal and cross-cultural comparison. 6 To give readers an idea of the scope of the histories 2.  Ibid. pp. 48–56 for a detailed discussion of the topography of the site. 3.  In fact, several Nahr el-Kalb monuments not mentioned here were erected to commemorate the construction of passageways, including roads, bridges, and railroads; Ibid. pp. 17–37. 4.  Ibid. p. 17 fig. 6 for an aerial photograph of the site marked with the locations of the reliefs; prior to this work the most complete site plan appeared in F. H. Weissbach, Die Denkmäler und Inschriften an der Mündung des Nahr el-Kalb (Wissenschaftliche Veröffentlichungen des deutsch-türkischen Denkmalschutz-Kommandos, Heft 6. Berlin and Leipzig: Vereinigung wissenschaftlicher Verleger, 1922), p. 16 fig. 3. 5.  One example is Laborde’s 1837 engraving, which significantly distorts the topography in order to maximize the picturesque qualities of the view; Léon, marquis de Laborde, Voyage de la Syrie (Paris: Didot Frères, 1837). See Maïla-Afeiche, Le Site, pp. 123–141 for a discussion of notable visitors to the site and their publications. For an investigation of this site as ‘public’ space in ancient times, see Florian J. Kreppner, “Public Space in Nature: the Case of Neo-Assyrian Rock Reliefs” Altorientalische Forschungen 29 (2002) 367–383. 6.  For a cross-cultural comparison between Egypt and Assyria at this site, see Marian Feldman, “Nineveh to Thebes and Back: Art and Politics between Assyria and Egypt in the Seventh Century c.e.” Iraq 66. Nineveh: Papers of the 49th Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale, Part One (2004) 141–150;

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that are present at Nahr el-Kalb, a brief chronological outline of the monuments is in order. The earliest monuments on the site were three Egyptian reliefs, carved by the New Kingdom Ramses II (1290–1224 b.c.e.) during his conflicts with the Hittites in the fourth, eighth, and tenth years of his reign. Only two of the original three reliefs are fully intact, but from earlier records, it seems that all three looked similar in overall visual format, with inscriptions and an image of the king smiting the enemy in the presence of a god. 7 The Assyrians were the next to arrive on the scene, leaving a series of six carvings (nos. VI, VII, VIII, XIII, XIV, XVII) in their own characteristic style with an arched frame and a single figure of the Assyrian king raising his hand in obeisance to the gods. 8 Of the five remaining, only the relief of Esarhaddon (680–669 b.c.e.) still contains its inscription, carved sometime around 671 in the context of his decisive blow against Egypt. 9 The worn con- Fig. 2.  Esarhaddon monument (671 b.c.e.), dition of the other reliefs leaves their Nahr el-Kalb (photo by author). dates open for discussion, but they were most likely left by several rulers, perhaps the Middle Assyrian king Tiglath-Pileser I (1114–1076 b.c.e.) and then the Neo-Assyrian kings Shalmaneser III (858–824 b.c.e.), Sennacherib (704–681 b.c.e.), and Ashurbanipal (668–627 b.c.e.). 10 and for a similar approach to imagery in the Assyrian palace, see Mehmet-Ali Ataç, “Time and Eternity in the Northwest Palace of Ashurnasirpal II at Nimrud” pp. 159–180 in Assyrian Reliefs from the Palace of Ashurnasirpal II: A Cultural Biography, edited by Ada Cohen and Steven E. Kangas (Hanover, NH: Hood Museum of Art, Dartmouth College, 2010). In the philological realm, the Melammu Symposia publications have lent new legitimacy to cross-temporal and cross-cultural methodologies; for example, Sanno Aro and R. M. Whiting, eds., The Heirs of Assyria (Helsinki: The Neo-Assyrian text Corpus Project, 2000). 7. Henri-Charles Loffet, “Les reliefs de Ramsès II,” in Maïla-Afeiche, Le Site, pp.  195–240. Although unconfirmed in later sources, the late nineteenth-century explorer Croquis de Boscawen noted a fourth Egyptian relief, now disappeared; Maïla-Afeiche, Le Site, p. 40 fig. 30C. 8.  For a more extensive discussion of this monument type, see Ann Shafer, The Carving of an Empire: Neo-Assyrian Monuments on the Periphery (Ph.D. dissertation. Harvard University, 1998) pp. 55– 86; Jutta Börker-Klähn, Altvorderasiatische Bildstelen und vergleichbare Felsreliefs (Mainz am Rhein: P. v. Zabern, 1982) pp. 54–60. 9.  The circumstances for the disappearance of relief VIII are uncertain. For a line drawing of the relief, see Börker-Klähn, Altvorderasiatische no. 213. For the Esarhaddon relief inscription (XVII), see Erle Leichty, The Royal Inscriptions of Esarhaddon, King of Assyria (680–669 BC) (The Royal Inscriptions of the Neo-Assyrian Period volume 4. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2011) no. 103, pp. 191–193. 10.  The dates of these monuments are debated; see the most recent opinion in Maïla-Afeiche, Le Site, p. 42. For the attributions assigned here, see Shafer, Carving, pp. 317–321. While it is likely that the

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Just as the Assyrians asserted their presence in the region–superseding the grand claims of the Egyptians before them–so did others that followed. First came Nebuchadnezzar II (605–562 b.c.e.), who carved a bilingual inscription without image. Although the date is uncertain, the monument commemorated his struggles against the Egyptians to gain control of the region. 11 A Roman inscription was then carved during the reign of Caracalla (198–217 c.e.), then two Byzantine Greek inscriptions (4thc c.e.), and a Mamluk inscription during the reign of Barquq (late 14thc c.e.). 12 In 1861 came Napoleon III, who carved over—thus mostly obscuring— one of the earlier reliefs of Ramses II. 13 The Napoleon monument marked the era of Ottoman decline, and thus the beginning of what Lucia Volk calls a “memory war” between the British and French to control the site and the region. 14 Thus, after Napoleon, came two British inscriptions in 1918 commemorating the liberation of this territory from Ottoman rule, followed by two monuments of 1920 and 1927 marking the establishment of French rule in the region. The British and French competition over these mandated territories came to a head during WWII, and in 1941, a British monument was carved to commemorate the “liberation” of Syria and Lebanon from Vichy French rule. 15 Finally, in 1946 and 2000 the site was marked with two separate monuments of the new Lebanese Republic. 16 With the exception of the 1920 French monument and the Lebanese monuments, all of the post-Assyrian monuments consist of text only, with no visual imagery. Thus, as the centuries passed and the region transitioned from one ruling power to the next, the monuments continued to appear–each distinctive in its own visual tradition. Involving considerable investment in terms of time and resources to produce, they were undeniably assertions of political ideology and military strength. 17 But although this aspect was certainly in play, it is important to remember that the process of invasion and conquest is a complex dynamic—symbolically and otherwise. In other words, not only do such monuments contain messages for the enemy, but equally, if not more significantly, do they sit at the nexus of a whole host of place-making strategies engaged by and for the monument-makers themselves. For philosopher Edward Casey, the concept of “place” is a localized form of “space” and is a unique set of personal and collective processes that shape consciousness and encourage attachments. 18 As for how that applies to the Assyrians, we know that Nahr reliefs were carved individually, by separate rulers, it is also possible that some, if not all, were multiple markings by the same king. The reliefs of Sennacherib at Cudi Dağı in eastern Turkey provide a good example of such a phenomenon; Börker-Klähn, Altvorderasiatische nos. 180–185. 11.  Nebuchadnezzar carved a total of six inscriptions in Lebanon. The Nahr el-Kalb text is identical to the inscription at Brissa, but without images of the king; Rocío Da Riva, “The Nebuchadnezzar Rock Inscription at Nahr el-Kalb,” in Maïla-Afeiche, Le Site, pp. 255–301. 12. Jean-Baptiste Yon, “Les inscriptions grecques et latines de Nahr el-Kalb,” in Maïla-Afeiche, Le Site, pp. 303–314; Thérèse Bittar and Marie Lamaa, “L’inscription au nom d’Aytmish al-Bajâsî,” in Maïla-Afeiche, Le Site, pp. 315–326. 13. Maïla-Afeiche, Le Site, p. 33 fig. 11. 14.  Lucia Volk, “When Memory Repeats Itself: The Politics of Heritage in Post Civil War Lebanon” International Journal of Middle East Studies 40 (2008) 291–314. 15. Maïla-Afeiche, Le Site, pp. 34–36 figs. 10, 14, 15, 24, 28. 16.  Ibid. pp. 36–37 figs. 26, 27. 17.  I would like to thank master stone carver Adam Heller for several enlightening conversations on the physical and technological aspects involved in carving such reliefs. 18.  Edward Casey, The Fate of Place: A Philosophical History (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1997).

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el-Kalb was strategically important for access to the region, and that the Mediterranean Sea itself had significant symbolic connotations as part of the “cosmic sea” at the edges of the known world. 19 But once aspirations turned into realities and the Assyrians arrived, what visual iconographies and modalities did they use to make it their own? Certainly, the act of carving rock itself connotes a strong sense of assimilation to site and the land, but the ideological impact is further heightened through the monument iconography. Each Assyrian monument contains an image (ṣalam šarrūtija) that is very different from the Egyptian one, and that is unique within the Nahr El-Kalb monument sequence: a nearly full-height, three-quarter profile image of the king himself. At this scale he seems for a moment to stand quite literally as a human presence in the landscape, as what Zainab Bahrani calls a “natural representation”, or a force made present. 20 Moreover his pose, framed in a state of narrative suspension, activates the imagination. Raising his hand in a pointing gesture, the king appears to look out over the landscape and to possess it. Further, upon closer inspection, divine emblems over his head leave undisputed his role as divinely chosen custodian. Beyond iconography, also at play here is the phenomenon of visual juxtaposition, which engages in a very direct way the site’s history and lineage of possession. That is, with the exception of Napoleon III, whose carving completely obscured the relief of Ramses II, all of the monument-makers deliberately placed their reliefs in relationship to others. Even the inscriptions of Nebuchadnezzar II and Barquq somewhat further afield were linked to the others via the river, an important means of passage through the site. 21 Again, from a theoretical perspective this effort to cluster the monuments might seem to have functioned as a tactic of ideological competition. But as visitors have recognized for centuries, one’s direct experience of the site just as easily leads to alternative conclusions. As this recent photograph of a portion of the site indicates, for example, the close positioning of the reliefs clearly results in a kind of gallery effect, putting in graphic form a different reality–of continuity and tradition (Fig. 3). The entire site has this character, but actually, it was the Assyrians who set this dynamic in motion, as they were the first to place their images in relation to those that came before. The care with which they chose their sites—with four of the six reliefs carved next to Egyptian ones—reveals a deep confidence in their own fulfillment of history by carving their place in it. 22 Part of that confidence certainly stemmed 19.  For the cosmic significance of the Mediterranean Sea, see Wayne Horowitz, Mesopotamian Cosmic Geography (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 1998), p. 325. For this reason the Assyrian kings performed rituals at this site and others like it. For example, Shalmaneser III, who claims to have carved at least one monument on the Mediterranean coast claims to have “washed [his] weapons in the Great Sea”–a ritual action performed at several natural commemoration sites at the extremities of his realm. See also note 27 below. 20.  Zeinab Bahrani, The Graven Image: Representation in Babylonia and Assyria. (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2003) p. 123. 21.  Moreover, as mentioned above, an early site plan by Croquis de Boscawen indicates that there was originally another Ramses II monument located directly across the river from Nebuchadnezzar II’s inscription, thus unifying the site in a way that is not apparent today; Maïla-Afeiche, Le Site, p. 40 fig. 30C. 22.  Nahr el-Kalb is unique in the sense that all the Assyrian reliefs depict the king facing in one direction—to the viewer’s left, or to the north—a fact that may have been important for the intended

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from knowing that their own monuments would be preserved. That is, the Assyrians were early proponents of “heritage management”, both in their preservation of the Egyptian reliefs as a document of history, and in their respect and care for the monuments of other Assyrian rulers. Over the years, they affirmed and preserved the strength of the Assyrian “lineage” and assured that all monuments—including their own—would receive the same treatment and recognition. 23 That this dynamic of continuity and preservation was further recognized and respected by even modern monument makers at Nahr el-Kalb is exemplified quite well in a photograph of one of the 1918 British inscriptions, placed directly above two Assyrian reliefs. In this photograph, two soldiers—perhaps those who carved the monument—are shown next to their inscription, and the Assyrian reliefs below are encased in protective vitrines. 24 Although it is doubtful that the British soldiers were versed in the specific historical context of the Assyrian reliefs, they clearly understood the symbolic import of their own addition to this esteemed line-up. Likewise, even for visitors today, the real exhilaration lies in walking in the very footsteps of these formidable agents of history. The Assyrian desire to fully inhabit the landscape is not unique to this site, but rather, can also be found at other rock relief sites throughout the Assyrian empire. What makes the site at Nahr el-Kalb unique and productive in our investigation of Assyrian identity, however, is the fact there were so many other rulers’ monuments there, allowing for a more informed view through the lens of history. I began this paper with a direct juxtaposition of Esarhaddon’s relief and the site’s most recent addition, the 2000 relief of the Lebanese president Émile Lahoud. In fact, out of all of the monuments erected on the site, those that resemble the Assyrian monuments the most, are the recent ones: Lahoud’s monument and its precedent—another, nearly identical relief carved in 1946 by Lebanon’s first president, Bechara El Khoury. Indeed, to look at these two modern Lebanese monuments is to re-examine with fresh eyes the Assyrian reliefs and to re-imagine more fully the subtleties of the Assyrian inhabitation of site and identity. On the Lebanese monuments there are two motifs in particular that shed light on the form and significance of the ancient Assyrian ones. The most obvious is the motif of architecture—the threshold, to be specific—and the way it references the phenomenon of physical space and its inhabitation. Although in the history of public monument-making it is not unusual to find the use of architectural symbolism, here the motif is used in a specific way, to reference the various historical groups that possessed the site before. Direct in their allusions, these modern reliefs display an Egyptianesque post-and-lintel outer frame, an Assyrianizing arch, Greco-Roman laurel branches, and a distinctly “Arab” muqarnas. Thus, as a formal pastiche of the site’s earlier traditions, these monuments deliberately look backward into the past, celebrating the continuity of state commemoration here. Moreover, for the purposes of this paper, they draw our attention to the use of architectural symbolism in the meaning or function of the reliefs. In the case of relief XIII, it means that the Assyrian monument, placed to the left of an Egyptian one, does not ‘answer’ to it in a direct way, but rather, looks away from it. 23.  For an analysis of another such site at the “source of the Tigris River” in eastern Turkey, see Ömür Harmansah, “ ‘Source of the Tigris’: Event, Place and Performance in the Landscapes of the Early Iron Age” Archaeological Dialogues 14.2 (2007) 179–204. 24. Maïla-Afeiche, Le Site, p. 147 fig. 17; for a complete discussion of site interventions over the years, including the application of a protective Silexore layer in 1925 by the Service d’Archéologie á Beyrouth, see Maïla-Afeiche, Le Site, pp. 142–151.

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Fig. 3.  Monuments along the river road, Nahr el-Kalb (photo by author).

Assyrian reliefs–a potent metaphor for, and catalyst in, the inhabitation of place. What might have appeared to be a neutral arched frame around the king before, is revealed now, by comparison, as an architectural opening or a doorway, with the king inside or passing through. Whether this Assyrian arch embodied the same symbolic and phenomenal connotations we often assign to such thresholds—such as the concepts of public vs. private, and the realities of movement and transition—is uncertain, but seems likely, especially given what we know of the rituals that accompanied the making of the monuments themselves. According to anthropological models, ritual is a prescribed, solemn activity that transforms things, people, and places into new forms and purposes. 25 From a comparison with other Assyrian examples, we know that the Nahr el-Kalb reliefs were most certainly commemorated—and later, by subsequent kings re-commemorated—by rituals of consecration. 26 Moreover, we know that those rituals were much like foundation rituals for Assyrian palaces, which transformed brick 25.  For a general discussion of the phenomenon of ritual, see Catherine Bell, Ritual: Perspectives and Dimensions (New York: Oxford University Press, 1997). 26.  For more on the phenomenon of ritual associated with such reliefs, see Ann Shafer, “Assyrian Royal Monuments on the Periphery: Ritual and the Making of Imperial Space” pp. 133–159 in Ancient Near Eastern Art in Context: Studies in Honor of Irene J. Winter by Her Students, edited by Jack Cheng and Marian H. Feldman (Leiden: Brill, 2007).

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and mortar into sacralized spaces for gods and men. With these factors in mind, now we can imagine the Nahr el-Kalb reliefs collectively constituting a series of architectural threshold moments–a kind of conceptual architecture that in the words of the architect Steven Holl, “does not intrude on the landscape, but rather, serves to reveal it.” 27 In that sense, quite literally, the Assyrian royal figure was a distributed one, a fully potent architectural agent. 28 Ultimately, in this succession of doorways onto individual, yet symbolically, ritually, and spatially connected moments in the imagined “palace” here, the Assyrian presence almost certainly appeared undisputed and fully natural. In addition to the motif of the doorway, the modern Lebanese monuments also contain a second motif relevant to ancient Assyria: the tree. Appearing in 1943 on the new Republic of Lebanon flag, the cedar tree had always been an important symbol of Lebanese identity. It was these trees that invading armies coveted throughout ancient history, and indeed, Assyrian kings boasted of palaces built with this aromatic wood. Adopted on the flags as a reminder of Lebanon’s war-torn past and the country’s resistance, this ancient tree remains today a potent symbol of the persistent strength and ultimate survival of its people. As both a product and symbol of the land itself, its prominence in the 1946 and 2000 reliefs at Nahr el-Kalb also conveys a pride of possession–of one’s territory and one’s future. Much like the doorway, the Lebanese tree motif also informs our interpretation of the Assyrian iconography. Of course, in the Assyrian reliefs there is no tree depicted. But, what may be implied, is the so-called “sacred tree” frequently seen in early Neo-Assyrian monumental and glyptic arts. Among hundreds of versions of the tree in various media, the paradigmatic version appears in the Northwest Palace throneroom of Ashurnasirpal II, directly juxtaposed with visual narratives of landscapes conquered. 29 In this scene, the stylized tree occupies the central axis between two nearly mirror-image repetitions of winged genii and kings, gesturing in a fashion identical to the figures on the Nahr el-Kalb reliefs. Irene Winter, Barbara Porter, and others have discussed this tree motif in depth, and have convincingly pointed to its potency as a symbol of royal agency and territorial unification. 30 In terms of visual modalities, however, the aspect most relevant to our study is how the tree seems to be mutable and even interchangeable with other images and symbols, all related to kingship. In Julian Reade’s drawing of an architectural brick panel from Fort Shalmaneser, for example, the tree appears once between mirrored royal 27.  Steven Holl, “Preface” in Steven Holl, Juhani Pallasmaa, and Alberto Pérez-Gómez, Questions of Perception: Phenomenology of Architecture (San Francisco, CA: William Stout, 2006). For a discussion of the inverse phenomenon of the Assyrian palace as a site for the representation of landscape, see Ann Shafer, “The Assyrian Landscape as Ritual” pp. 713–739 in Critical Approaches to Ancient Near Eastern Art, edited by Brian A. Brown and Marian H. Feldman (Berlin: DeGruyter, 2013). 28.  For a discussion of the concept of “space” in the Assyrian palace, especially in relation to theories of object agency, see Ann Shafer, “Storied Walls: Assyrian Palaces and the Liminal Spaces of Empire,” in Place and Performance: Theorizing Architectural Spaces in Ancient World(s), edited by Catherine Becker and Ömür Harmansah. Forthcoming. 29.  BM 12.45.31 30.  Irene Winter, “The Program of the Throneroom of Assurnasirpal II” pp.  15–31 in Essays on Near Eastern Art and Archaeology in Honor of Charles Kyrle Wilkinson. Edited by Prudence Harper and Holly Pittman. (New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1983); idem, “Ornament and the ‘Rhetoric of Abundance’ in Assyria” Eretz-Israel 27 (2003) 252–64; Barbara Porter, “Sacred Trees, Date Palms, and the Royal Persona of Ashurnasirpal II” Journal of Near Eastern Studies 52.2 (1993) 129–139; Mariana Giovino, The Assyrian Sacred Tree: A History of Interpretations (Fribourg: Academic Press, 2007).

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figures, and then again, isolated above them. In this same scene, one final transmutation occurs as the tree elements are abstracted in bands to form an overarching frame. 31 Not just here but in many images, especially on cylinder seals, we see this same fluid grammar that has no single, clearly identifiable meaning, but that instead, lends itself well to esoteric interpretation. For example, Simo Parpola compares the Assyrian tree with the Jewish sephirotic tree and interprets the Assyrian king a “perfect man” who gains mystical knowledge through the tree diagram. 32 Carrying this notion further, Mehmet-Ali Ataç asserts that the repetition of this imagery in the royal palace may be intended as a reference to an otherworldly sacral time and to the Assyrian king’s own longevity in relation to it. 33 Although the precise interpretation of the Assyrian sacred tree image is still debated, what is certain is that the Nahr el-Kalb Assyrian images are near duplicates of those in the palace center and that they may represent a very particular version of the tree scene. Perhaps what is more important here, however, is how the modern Lebanese monuments provide the key to these interpretive dimensions. That is, just as the cedar is featured here as an icon of Lebanese autonomy, so the ancient Assyrian tree could have also been a potent symbol of identity. And although the decorative program in the Assyrian palace required a tree in concrete form, the conceptual architecture of this distant site seems to have referenced only a tree implied–in other words, the land itself. Somehow, then, the rock reliefs did much more than proclaim military victory; rather, they also potentially accessed an obscure dimension of Assyrian ritual and symbolism, and thus, surely constituted an essential mechanism for transforming the idea of place into a reality. Thus, the comparison between the present and the past is a productive one. The modern Lebanese monuments reveal a striking symbolism about the relationship between a land, its history, its people, and their will towards self-determination. Likewise, through the lens of the present, the Assyrian monuments begin to reveal connections between royal iconography and a literal inhabitation of the land and history. Perhaps most important for our knowledge of the ancient Assyrians, however, is what this process reveals about their acute sense of history and tradition. Here, they set in motion a commemorative dynamic that was meaningful far beyond its day. The inscription and imagery on President Khoury’s 1946 monument celebrate the withdrawal of European forces and thus the founding of a new autonomous Lebanese state. As the words reveal, for the first time in Lebanese history, its people were free of foreign occupation, and had a sense of autonomy and ownership—of their governance and their land. In a similar fashion, Lahoud’s monument in 2000 was erected to commemorate the close of another painful chapter in Lebanese history. Within an architectural frame and under the cedar tree, Lahoud refers to the withdrawal of Israeli forces from southern Lebanon as the “dawning of a new era”, underscoring monumental notions of unity, statehood, and self-definition once again. Both helped close the wounds of their land’s history. More significant from our perspective here, however, they very consciously chose and engaged an ancient tradition—an Assyrian tradition—and in so doing, honored for us its potency and meaning. 31.  Julian Reade, “A Glazed Brick Panel from Nimrud” Iraq 25 (1963) 38–47. 32.  Simo Parpola, “The Assyrian Tree of Life: Tracing the Origins of Jewish Monotheism and Greek Philosophy” Journal of Near Eastern Studies 52.3 (1993) 161–209. 33.  Mehmet-Ali Ataç, “Time and Eternity.”

Oriental Studies and Fascism in Spain Agnès Garcia-Ventura and Jordi Vidal Barcelona

The aim of this paper is to analyse the situation of Oriental Studies in Spain in 1939–1941 and its relationship with the extreme right-wing government created by General Franco after the Spanish Civil War. We are particularly interested in the project for the creation of the “Instituto Ibérico Oriental”, a research institute planned and promoted by Henry Heras in 1938. Franco’s victory in the Spanish Civil War (1936–1939) ushered in a totalitarian regime inspired by European fascism and with close links to Italy and Germany. Spain’s very special relationship with the Axis powers lasted some four years, until 1943, when the tide of the Second World War began to turn; as an Allied victory became increasingly likely, Franco’s regime tried to disguise or break its links with fascism. In any case, both before and after 1943 Franco’s regime set up a totalitarian government, an extreme right-wing ideology closely linked to the Catholic Church, and a single party system. Naturally, these developments had profound consequences for the academic world. In this paper we focus on its impact on the study of Ancient History, Archaeology, and Oriental Studies in Spain.

In Search of Aryan Spain Franco’s military victory was followed by a purge at the universities. In the area of Ancient History and Archaeology, the fascist triumph and political and legal persecution forced outstanding figures like Pere Bosch Gimpera into exile. The places left vacant were occupied by young archaeologists who were enthusiastic supporters of the new regime, men like Martín Almagro Basch (who occupied Bosch Gimpera’s professorship at the University of Barcelona) and Julio Martínez Santa-Olalla; 1 both had studied in Germany during the 1920s and 1930s, where they had learnt and adopted the theories of Kossinna and his followers, and both were Nazi sympathizers. 2 The advent of the Franco regime and the promotion of young archaeologists who supported it led to the construction of a new historiographic paradigm based on the 1.  For a comprehensive reconstruction of the period, see Gracia Alonso, F. 2009: La arqueología durante el primer franquismo (1939–1956), Barcelona. 2.  For a brief biographical description of Martínez Santa-Olalla see Quero Castro, S. 2009: “Martínez Santa-Olalla, Julio”, M. Díaz-Andreu, G. Mora and J. Cortadella, Diccionario histórico de la arqueología en España, Madrid, 423–424. For that of Almagro, see Díaz-Andreu, M. 2009: “Almagro Basch, Martín”, M. Díaz-Andreu, G. Mora and J. Cortadella, Diccionario histórico de la arqueología en España, Madrid, 73–75.

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glorification of Spain’s supposed Aryan past. The term “Aryan” was often used interchangeably with the term “Celt”: wholehearted efforts were made to strengthen the historical and ideological links between Spain and Nazi Germany, for example, by emphasizing the arrival of Celtic populations from the Rhine in the Iberian Peninsula in Protohistoric times. 3 This new historiographic paradigm tried to reinforce the belief that the current alliance between Germany and Spain was no chance event, but the result of a common history shaped over thousands of years (Fig. 1). This ideological climate did nothing to help the development of Oriental Studies in Spain. After the Civil War the country was plunged into a deep economic crisis, and the extremely limited resources available for research in Ancient History were assigned to the attempts to demonstrate Spain’s hypothetical relations with the Aryan world.

Desolation: Ancient Near Eastern Studies in Spain There has never been a great Spanish tradition in Oriental studies. A few religious scholars paid attention to the new discipline of Assyriology, 4 but they did so on an ad hoc basis, without the support of academic institutions. These scholars carried out notable work but their clear religious bias meant that Assyriology was conceived as an auxiliary science of Biblical studies; their work had an obvious apologetic nature, using data collected by European and American archaeologists and epigraphers to confirm the veracity of Biblical history. 5 Excellent examples are the works by the priest Ramiro Fernández Valbuena and the Benedictine monk Bonaventura Ubach. In his monumental Egipto y Asiria resucitados (4 vols., Toledo 1895–1901), Fernández Valbuena wrote that the new data recently published on Assyria and Egypt should be used to announce the Gospel to non-believers [“para anunciar el evangelio a los incrédulos” (I, p. 121)]. 6 As for Ubach, he was the main force behind the creation of what remains Spain’s most important museum on the Ancient Near East, the Biblical Museum in Montserrat. Ubach travelled frequently to the Near East, where he bought cuneiform tablets, cylinder-seals and other Mesopotamian objects for the Museum. 7 However, he always stated that his interest in Ancient 3. See Ruiz Zapatero, G. 2003: “Historiografía y “uso público” de los celtas en la España franquista”, F. Wulff Alonso and M. Álvarez Martí-Aguilar, Antigüedad y Franquismo (1936–1975), Málaga, 217–240. 4.  See Córdoba Zoilo, J. and Pérez Die, C. 2006: “La aventura arqueológica de España en Oriente. Nacimiento y desarrollo de una ciencia nueva”, J. M. Córdoba Zoilo and C. Pérez Die, La arqueología española en Oriente, Madrid, 11–24. 5.  See Fernández Marcos, N. 2001: “Un siglo de investigación bíblica en España, en los cien años de Razón y Fe”, Razón y Fe 244, 129–142. 6.  On Fernández Valbuena, see García Recio, J. 2001: “Ramiro Fernández Valbuena: el despuntar de la Asiriología”, J. M. Córdoba Zoilo, R. Jiménez Zamudio and C. Sevilla Cueva, El Redescubrimiento de Oriente Próximo y Egipto. Viajes, hallazgos e investigaciones, Madrid, 117–127. 7. On Ubach and the creation of the Biblical Museum in Montserrat see, among others, Vidal, J. 2010: “Bonaventura Ubach. In Search of the Biblical Landscapes”, Res Antiquitatis 1, 39–54. See also Tragan, P.-R. 2011: “El monjo pare Bonaventura Ubach: de Montserrat a l’Orient”, VVAA, Viatge a l’Orient Bíblic, Barcelona, 35–41. The diary of his journey to Iraq in 1922–1923 has recently been published: Roure, D. 2009: Bonaventura Ubach. Dietari d’un viatge per les regions de l’Iraq, Barcelona.

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Mesopotamia was due exclusively to its close and obvious links with the Bible: “[In Mesopotamia] I would contemplate the picture of the eleven first chapters of the Genesis, the monuments which, discovered these last years, have come to confirm the veracity of the facts stated in the first pages of the Holy Scriptures.” 8 So the absence of genuine Assyriologists in Spain helps us to understand why the interest in Ancient Near East was only incidental, perceived always as a new source of materials for a better understanding of the Biblical world. In fact, this situation was reproduced in the rest of Western Europe, where in its origins Assyriology was closely linked with Biblical studies. 9 However, the proliferation in other countries of true specialists in the study of cuneiform texts and the increasing amount of archaeological data obtained in the excavations were decisive factors that progressively established Assyriology as a discipline in its own right. 10 Unfortunately for Spain, the process did not reach this country until the final decades of the 20th century. However, at the very beginning of Franco’s regime a truly ambitious project was launched which would have placed Spanish Assyriology and Oriental Studies firmly on the map. The first mention of this project dates from 1938. At that time Republican troops were still holding out in Barcelona and Madrid, but the victory of the fascists appeared inevitable, and an Oriental scholar with links to Franco’s movement thought that the time was ripe to propose the creation of an Oriental Institute in Spain.

The “Instituto Ibérico Oriental” 11 This scholar was Henry Heras Sicars, 12 a Jesuit born in 1888 in Barcelona who had worked for many years as a researcher in Bombay. He published about 200 works 13 dealing mainly with the cultures and writings of the Mohenjo Daro civilization which he regarded as a “Proto-Indo-Mediterranean” race or nation, the starting point for Sumerians, Minoans, Mycenaeans, Phoenicians, Etruscans and Iberians (see Heras 1939 and 1941). Henry Heras was an enthusiastic supporter of Franco. As a Jesuit and a researcher with foreign experience he was particularly attractive to the regime, which was keen to end the country’s international isolation after the end of the Civil War and even more so after the end of the Second World War. To this end, the “Junta de Relaciones Culturales” of the Foreign Office and a research centre, “Centro de 8.  See Ubach, B. 1935: “Per les vores de l’Eufrat (1)”, Butlletí del Centre Excursionista de Catalunya 45, 232–239. 9.  See Larsen, M. T. 1995: “The Babel/Bibel Controversy and Its Aftermath”, J. M. Sasson, Civilizations of the Ancient Near East, New York, 95–196. 10.  See D’Agostino, F. 2007: Gilgameš o La conquista de la inmortalidad, Madrid. 11. For a more detailed report of this initiative and all steps identified in different sources, see Garcia-Ventura, A. and Vidal, J. 2012: “El Instituto Ibérico Oriental (1938–1941). Un intento de introducción de los estudios sobre el Oriente Antiguo en España”, Archivo Español de Arqueología 85, 287–296. 12.  Although Heras was born in Barcelona and his original name was Enrique, in this paper we use the name “Henry” following his own preference; Heras always used “Henry” to sign his letters. 13.  For a complete bibliography of Heras, see Borràs i Feliu, A., Solà i Carrió, F. d. P. and Torelló i Barenys, J. M. 1979: Escriptors jesuïtes de Catalunya. Bibliografia 1931–1976, Suplements de la revista “Actualidad Bibliográfica de Filosofía y Teología”, Sant Cugat del Vallès, Barcelona.

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Investigaciones Científicas” (CSIC), were created in 1939, when the Civil War had finished. 14 In this context, at least at the beginning, there was some interest in creating an Oriental Institute in Spain. The first mention of the Institute was 1938 in an article published by Henry Heras in the journal Razón y Fe: “an “Instituto Ibérico Oriental” in Madrid, in Franco’s new Spain that is now re-emerging, working in cooperation with the “Institute” in Bombay, would in my opinion be most useful.” 15 Heras’s use of the broad label “Oriental” comprised several disciplines. Seven chairs were initially planned: Iberian History and Culture, Iberian Language and Philosophy, Ancient Egypt History and Culture, Cretan, Mycenaean and Aegean History and Culture, and finally Relationships between Dravidian and Sanskrit languages. Four more chairs were to be added later: Phoenician History and Culture, Mediterranean Comparative Religion studies, Other Dravidian Languages and finally Mediterranean Ethnography and Anthropology. Eventually, the project would grow to include 24 chairs. The Institute would also publish its own journal and would create a large library. In all, it was a vastly ambitious project, especially in the cash-strapped Spain of the post-war period. This first announcement also stated that the Institute should be based in Madrid. Nonetheless, Heras campaign to set up the Institute in Barcelona. During his visits to his native city, he may well have contacted Martín Almagro Basch and Luis Pericot García, two leading figures in archaeology and ancient history studies in post-war Spain. 16 Both professors were then at the University of Barcelona and their support would have been vital to the success of the project. The seminar given by Heras at the University of Barcelona in November and December 1939, and his letters to Pericot from 1939 onwards, are evidence of the strength of these personal relationships. 17 In some of these letters, Heras mentions the plan for the “Instituto Ibérico Oriental.” The first letter on the subject is dated 1 June 1940. Heras informs Pericot that the Jesuits were not willing to found the Institute, as Pericot had probably expected. The first paragraph of this letter reads as follows: “Dear Pericot, you are definitely a Prophet. The Instituto Ibérico Oriental is not going to be created. My superiors let me embark on the foundation of the Institute, but because of the current difficulties, they have ordered me to stop them. 14.  On the attempts to overcome Spain’s international isolation during Franco’s regime (especially cultural isolation), see Pasamar Alzuria, G. 1991: Historiografía e ideología en la posguerra española: La ruptura de la tradición liberal, Zaragoza. For those promoted by the “Junta de Relaciones Culturales”, see Delgado Gómez-Escalonilla, L. 1994: “Las relaciones culturales de España en tiempo de crisis: de la II República a la Guerra Mundial”, Espacio, Tiempo y Forma 7, 259–294. On the foundation of the CSIC and its relationship with Ancient History, see Mora, G. 2003: “El Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas y la Antigüedad”, F. Wulff Alonso and M. Álvarez Martí-Aguilar, Antigüedad y Franquismo (1936–1975), Málaga, 95–109. 15.  “Un “Instituto Ibérico Oriental” en Madrid, en la nueva España de Franco que ya está resurgiendo, trabajando ambos en colaboración con este “Institute” de Bombay, serían, a mi juicio, de grande utilidad.” (quoted in Heras, H. 1938: “Inscripciones dravídicas descifradas”, Razón y Fe 113, 279–289.). 16.  Martín Almagro began to take on posts of responsibility in Archaeology and Prehistory in Spain in 1938, for example the running of the Archaeological Museum in Barcelona. See Díaz-Andreu, M. 2003: “Arqueología y dictaduras: Italia, Alemania y España”, F. Wulff Alonso and M. Álvarez Martí-Aguilar, Antigüedad y Franquismo (1936–1975), Málaga, 33–73. Pericot also held a chair at the University of Barcelona among other positions. 17.  A collection of 27 letters received by Pericot from Heras between 1939 and 1955, when Heras died, are now preserved in the Biblioteca de Catalunya.

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You know that we, the Jesuits, are obedient soldiers. So I have stopped all action forthwith.” 18 It seems clear that the hardships of the post-war era and the ambitious scale of the project led the Jesuits to take this decision. At this point, the evidence we have suggests that the plan announced by Heras in 1938 in Razón y Fe was soon abandoned. But we have proof that the project was still alive, at least for a certain time. Two months after the letter we quoted above, on 9 August 1940, Heras wrote again to Pericot to discuss the creation of the Institute. 19 On this occasion his tone was completely different; he now asked Pericot to write an article for inclusion in a Bulletin to promote the Institute’s foundation. The Bulletin was scheduled for publication in September 1940. What had happened in the meantime? Why had the situation changed so much? If in June 1940 it seemed that the game was over, how is it that in August 1940 Heras was intending to publish a journal to promote the Institute? The answer is straightforward and difficult at the same time. It is straightforward because there was support for Heras’s original project, at different levels (for example, funding and logistics). But at the same time we lack primary sources to determine the degree of involvement of the people who took part in the project, the investment needed, or how far the project advanced. Finally, it seems, the Bulletin was not published as initially planned. Fortunately, however, we do have two pamphlets, signed by Martín Almagro and Manuel Goday, which were produced in order to promote the Institute. These pamphlets provide information on the members of the Honorary and Executive Committees of the “Fundación del Instituto Ibérico Oriental” – representatives of Barcelona high society, including businessmen, counts, marquesses and politicians. In these committees, Martín Almagro was the only researcher devoted to Archaeology; the others acted as members giving financial support, but were not to take part in its lectures or scholarly work. At this point, Martín Almagro appears to have been in charge of promoting the project and it may well have been he who kept it alive in June 1940, since, as we have seen, the project had received a new lease of life in August of the same year. The publication of the two pamphlets mentioned above is evidence of this, 20 as was the planning of a series of 22 lectures to be given by Henry Heras in Barcelona in November and December 1940. At these sessions the first pamphlet of the Institute (and possibly the second one as well) would have been distributed. The second pamphlet contained a section on the “Necesidad del Instituto Ibérico Oriental”, 21 which described the Institute as a valuable tool for promoting the Spanish national spirit and as a project totally dependent on private donations. To quote 18.  “Mi queridísimo Pericot, Finalmente Vd. ha salido Profeta. El Instituto Ibérico-Oriental no se hará. Mis superiores me habían permitido iniciar las actividades conducentes a la fundación del Instituto Ibérico-Oriental. Pero ahora dadas las circunstancias difíciles que atravesamos me han ordenado suspenderlas por el presente. Sabe Vd. muy bien que los Jesuitas somos soldados de obediencia. Como tal, pues, he parado todas las actividades instantaneamente.” (Biblioteca de Catalunya, Fondo Lluís Pericot, letter 2, dossier Pericot-Heras) 19.  Biblioteca de Catalunya, Fondo Lluís Pericot, letter 3, dossier Pericot-Heras. 20.  Almagro Basch, M. and Goday, M.: El Instituto Ibérico Oriental de Barcelona y su Fundamento Científico, I, Barcelona. // Almagro Basch, M. and Goday, M.: El Instituto Ibérico Oriental de Barcelona y su Fundamento Científico, II, Barcelona. 21.  Almagro and Goday, El Instituto. . ., II, pp. 14–20.

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the text: “To found this great scientific enterprise, we call for the help of Spanish citizens who want to support and promote our national spirit. Depending exclusively on these donations, the Executive Committee of the Fundación del Instituto Ibérico Oriental hopes to develop its scientific work.” 22 Below, on the same page, explicit reference is made to the situation of Oriental studies in Spain: though these studies were not new in Europe, they were new in Spain, and putting Spain on the map of Oriental studies was one of the Institute’s main goals. The series of lectures was announced in a local newspaper (La Vanguardia Española) between November and December 1940. The first report (9 November) gave a description of the project and also announced that the lectures were being held to promote the initiative and to obtain funds. The 22 lectures were to be held in a variety of venues including libraries, art schools and professional associations, the latter being seen as important potential donors. The first lecture, held on 12 November 1940, bore the title “Génesis del Instituto Ibérico Oriental.” After the lecture series was completed, just after Christmas 1940, a report published in another newspaper (ABC, 5 January 1941) announced the Institute’s imminent opening. The report described the enormous project we mentioned before, with 24 chairs and the finest library in the field of Mediterranean studies. We have one more document that refers to the Institute: a letter sent by Heras to Pericot in February 1941. 23 The letter calls a meeting of the members of the “Fundación del Instituto Ibérico Oriental” and is the last direct written reference to the Institute we have. Heras’s letters to Pericot after this date do not mention the Institute, in spite of the fact that they regularly mention meetings attended by Heras, Pericot and Almagro during Heras’s visits to Barcelona from India.

To Conclude: Many Questions, Some Possible Answers At this point we have evidence of a project to create an institute and of a foundation set up to support and promote it. This foundation published two pamphlets, and organized courses, seminars and lecture series. There were also newspaper reports of the activities and announcing the Institute’s imminent opening. Nonetheless, after February 1941, all evidence regarding the Institute disappears. The only subsequent reference to it comes in the obituary written by Almagro in the journal Ampurias on the occasion of Heras’s death in Bombay. To quote Almagro: “With regret and sincere affection we remember [. . .] (Heras’s) efforts to found an Oriental Institute in Barcelona, his help in putting our Archaeological Museum in contact with foreign international centres during the years after our war of liberation, when the generalized isolation tried to smother us.” 24

22.  “Para la fundación de esta gran empresa científica se espera la ayuda voluntaria de los españoles que aspiren a potenciar y elevar nuestro espíritu nacional. A costa exclusivamente de estos donativos, espera el Comité Ejecutivo de la Fundación del Instituto Ibérico Oriental realizar su tarea científica” (Almagro and Goday, El Instituto. . ., II, p. 18). 23.  Biblioteca de Catalunya, Fondo Lluís Pericot, letter 5, dossier Pericot-Heras. 24.  “Con añoranza y sincero cariño recordamos [. . .] sus esfuerzos en pro de la creación de un Instituto Oriental en Barcelona, su ayuda para relacionar a nuestro Museo Arqueológico con los centros internacionales del extranjero en aquellos años posteriores a nuestra guerra de liberación, en que el ais-

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This quotation brings us to the end of the history of the “Instituto Ibérico Oriental.” Almagro, one of the scholars most deeply involved in the project, tells us that eventually the Institute could not be founded. So what happened to the project and to all its promoters’ efforts? Did it perhaps become another institution? And finally, was the project abandoned for ideological or for economic reasons? In our view, the project did not fail for ideological reasons. As we have seen above, between 1939 and 1941, Spanish scholars were intent on recreating the most Aryan past possible for Spain. This idea did not marry well with Heras’s proposal of a pre-Aryan or Dravidian origin of Iberian Culture, but in spite of these disagreements Heras was a scholar of some international standing and his project for the Institute would have been seen as a way to end or at least reduce the isolation of Spanish researchers. Moreover, the Institute clearly had the approval of the Franco regime, as some ministers took part in the Foundation working to create the Institute. On this occasion, as on many others, pragmatism, not ideology, prevailed. We think that the project may have failed for economic reasons, especially taking into account the great economic depression of Spain after the end of the Civil War. It would have been extremely difficult to obtain money from either public or private sources to support such an enormous project. In spite of its keenness to establish relationships with foreign countries, Spain lacked the resources to finance an institute of this kind. In any case, there is no doubt that the failure of the project for the “Instituto Ibérico Oriental” had a negative effect on the later development of Oriental studies in Spain. Another forty years would pass until the first academic institute devoted to Oriental studies and Assyriology was set up.  But that is part of another story in the history of the relationship between past and present, between tradition and innovation. lamiento general intentó ahogarnos.” (Almagro Basch, M. 1955–1956: “Necrología: Padre Enrique Heras S.I. (1888–1955)”, Ampurias 17–18, 316.)

From Parents to Children: Ebla Alfonso Archi Rome

1.  Transmission of Crafts From time immemorial down to recent non-dynamic societies, fathers have transmitted their skills and jobs/professions to their sons. The first statement of this custom is, as usual, in a Sumerian text: “The fate decreed by the god Enlil for man is that a son follows the work of his father” (A Father and his Perverse Son; Sjöberg 1973: 112 and 117, ll. 115–116). That a father desires to ensure his son’s future by transmitting his own expertise does not exclude the idea that a father could also desire to provide his son (when possible) with a higher position, entrusting him to someone possessed of a particular expertise, Laws of Hammurabi, §§ 188–189: “If a craftsman takes a young child to rear and then teaches him his craft, he will not be reclaimed. If he should not teach him his craft, that adopted child shall return to his father’s house”. A concentration of particular abilities in organized groups of people can be either a cause of stagnation or a factor which promotes an increase in the quality of the production and therefore in wealth, as was the case of the guilds in Western Europe during the Middle Ages and the Renaissance. Although some scholars have suggested that artisan association based on family ties existed in the Neo-Babylonian period, the available data prohibits us from arriving at such a conclusion (Kümmel 1979: 10–13). 1 Imperial forms of power, with an extended centralised administration and groups of people bound by family ties employed in administrative and religious activities, represent only one of the historical situations of interest to this workshop. It is impossible to offer a homogeneous picture of any subject on the Ancient Near East, not only because of the wide variety of social contexts witnessed over two millennia, but also because of the greatly varying nature of documentary typologies. The social contexts within which this workshop intends to study the means of transmitting craft skills do, however, share some common elements, although to differing degrees: 1.  a “patrimonial” pre-dominance exercised by the king (according to Max Weber’s classification); 2.  an administration in the service of the king which, in certain periods, was so complex as to merit the definition of bureaucracy; 2 1.  On the problems of the kin groups in the Neo-Babylonian period, see Nielsen 2011. 2.  On the bureaucracy of the Ur III Dynasty, when many official positions became hereditary, see Michalowski 1991: 48–49; Winter 1991: 67–68.

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Alfonso Archi 3.  religious personnel (these too under the direct control of the king), custodians of the ideology of those societies, which enjoyed in some cases notable economic privileges.

As early as the last centuries of the third millennium, certain officials of the state administration conducted economic activities for their own personal ends. Extraordinary economic developments in the private sector are documented (definitely not merely the result of the fortuitous nature of the documentation at disposal) for two chronologically distant periods: the Old Assyrian and the Neo- and Late Babylonian ones, when several “business houses” were active. The recruitment of personnel for the state administration could occur on the basis of: 1) an elitist group pertaining to a specific function (e.g. the elders of family groups); 2) inheritance; 3) merit; 4) wealth. The transmission of a post through inheritance is the only kind documented with certainty. Often, however, the archives only cover two or three generations. Furthermore, people were only occasionally distinguished by their patronymic. References to a long lineage are found usually in documents of the later Babylonian periods.

2.  Ebla of the Third Millennium a) The Minister The central archive of Ebla systematically covers forty years. Only sixty or so documents from the preceding six years were selected to be kept in the central archive, built during the final phase of the palace. This documentation corresponds, therefore, to roughly two or three generations. 3 This chronological duration, which may seem somewhat brief, is usual for the archives of the Ancient Near East, as noted above. For the third millennium B.C., only a few archives of the Third Dynasty of Ur cover a longer period. As Ibbi-zikir, the minister during the last seventeen years, succeeded his father Ibrium in the post (who had, in his turn, served for eighteen years), together with the fact that military actions were led, year after year, by the minister and not by the king, this could suggest that a division of power existed: the king would have performed sacred and religious functions whilst the minister was at the head of the administration. Thus, apparently, we have two parallel dynasties with different responsibilities: a situation which could recall a historical period in Japan when, alongside the imperial dynasty there was a military function, that of the shogun, which became hereditary inside a caste. In reality, the pre-eminence of the minister and his family in Eblaite society is a local phenomenon, determined by specific contingent factors (Archi 2014). The figure of a minister who concentrated control of the administration and also command of the army around himself appears to have developed gradually. According to the oldest documents, two people (Darmilu/Darmia and Tir) enjoyed a degree of preeminence within the group of roughly thirty most important officials of the administration, known as “lords”, lugal-lugal. During the last five years of king Irkab-damu, 3.  For a general picture of this period, see Archi 2013.

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a certain Arrukum assumed clear eminence, although Tir continued in service. Arrukum had the merit of having reformed the bookkeeping of the administration. Arrukum died a few months before his king, Irkab-damu. He was succeeded by Ibrium, who appears already in some documents dating to the time of Darmia and Tir. At that moment, Ibrium found himself governing Ebla, because alongside him was Dusigu, Irkab-damu’s favourite and mother of Išar-damu, who succeeded his father as king at a very young age (he was probably three or four years old). It was, therefore, the tender age of Išar-damu, and Dusigu’s approval that enabled Ibrium to consolidate his position. The administrative texts record his name numerous times. It was this minister who led the army into battle in that period, year after year, a prerogative that was inherited by his son, Ibbi-zikir, when he succeeded his father to the post of minister. I am not claiming that the kings of Sumer and Akkad personally led all the military undertakings which they ascribed to themselves in their inscriptions. It is, however, peculiar that king Išar-damu left his minister Ibbizikir in charge of the army even when he himself was of an age to perform this duty. Just as Ibrium with his prestige had succeeded in naming his son Ibbi-zikir as his successor, so too did Ibbi-zikir manage to name in turn his son, Tubuhu-Hadda, who would have taken his father’s place had Ebla not fallen. At Ebla, therefore, another dynasty developed alongside that of the royal family: that of the minister, and for precise reasons. All that was lacking was a marriage for the blood of Ibrium’s family to flow in the veins of Ebla’s king. In the twelfth year of Ibbi-zikir’s mandate, his daughter Za’aše married the heir to the throne, Ir’aq-damu. As wife of the future king, Za’aše had the privilege of participating in the official cults of the city, limited in general to the king, queen and the princes. Sacrality was in general the prerogative of the royal family. In that last period the hierarchical order at court was: the king; the crown prince Ir’aq-damu; the queen; Za’aše: the crown prince’s wife. The fall of Ebla put a dramatic end to the ambitions of Ibrium’s family which had played such an important part in the fortunes of the city. Ibrium, therefore, became minister through his own merits. Thanks to his prestige he succeeded in making this role hereditary.

b) The Officials at Court Thirty or so “lords”, lugal-lugal (lugal = ba‘lum) assisted the minister in the control of the administration. Their names are generally not followed by a patronymic. The impression we receive, however, is that these positions were only rarely inherited. I can only mention the cases of Irda-malik, son of Bahaga amongst the lords during the period of Ibrium, and Enna-i(l) son of Zibada together with Igna-dar son of Gigi for the period of Ibbi-zikir. We cannot even guess what other criteria may have been applied in choosing these officials. 4 We find the same situation in relation to another category of individuals, this time of a far lower rank: the pāšišū “valets” of the king. Of the 65 names attested, only four individuals followed in their fathers’ footsteps: ’Adaša, Humizu and Ruzimalik sons of Raizu; Puzurra-malik son of Iti-Ilam (Archi 1996). A few significant details show, instead, that positions in the religious sector were hereditary.

4.  The “lords” have been studied by Archi 2000.

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Nominally, it was the members of the royal family (and sometimes also the minister) who made sacrifices to the gods according the established calendar. In effect, at least according to the rites performed for the wedding ritual of the royal couple (over a period of twenty-one days), it was a “man of the gods”, lú dingir-dingir, who “offered, sacrificed” nídba, bread, drinks and animals. 5 The title “man of the gods” is banal: apparently the people of Ebla clearly did not find an appropriate technical term in the Sumerian lexicon. This position was held by one individual at a time. In the first year systematically recorded in the archives, and for at least the following 15 years, the “man of the gods” was Amazau. In the nineteenth year the post was held by his son, Enna-il (Archi 1996: 44). Similarly, every god had his or her “servant”, pāšišu. Only for Hadda do we have proof that two pāšišū were active in the same year in the city of Ebla. Adulu was the pāšišu of Kura, the main god of Ebla, for about the first twenty-five years. He was succeeded by his son Enna-il, homonymous of Amazau’s son (Archi 1996: 43–45). The same relation can be shown for the pāšišu of the god Hayya (Ea / Enki). The servant active during the mandate of the minister Ibrium was called Enna-il (a very common name, indeed). His father, Baluzu, was active during the mandate of the minister Arrukum. Enna-il was succeeded by Aku-Ea/Enki. His name, which means “Ea is reliable”, indicates that he was dedicated to the god from birth. We cannot prove that Aku-Ea was Ennai-il’s son. His father, in any case, had to be a devotee of Ea, probably himself also a pāšišu (Archi 2010: 25–26). It is more difficult to prove that this hereditary rule applied also to feminine professions. There would appear to be only one demonstrable case of this. A ritual action named u9-zu, related to the god Hayya (Ea), was celebrated in an ancient document by “the daughter of Zanitum”. In my opinion, it is quite likely that this young priestess is mentioned not by her personal name but with the term indicating her affiliation because she had only recently taken over her mother’s position. In various other later documents the priestess (clearly because she was well-known at this point) is mentioned by her own name: Tešzi (Archi 2010: 29–30). It is in the field of highly specialized knowledge, such as that of the scribes, that we find, in many periods, positions being handed down from father to son. In an early period, such as that of Ebla, the scribes included their names only on the Sumerian lexical texts which they copied from Mesopotamian documents, following the example of their predecessors. According to the Kish tradition (attested to by the texts of Abū Ṣalābīkh), in the colophons the scribes only mention their superiors with traditional names: ab-ba “father” and um-mi-a “master”. In one specific case, however, we can prove that a scribe was following in his father’s footsteps. The ceremony of purification for the “house of the king”, é en, was an annual ritual. According to the earliest texts, a certain Azi “recites the invocation (of what is) favorable”. In a later document this task is entrusted to the “son of Azi”. This person is not mentioned by name (here again, I presume, for the same reason as that concerning the young Tešzi – that he had just taken over the job from his father). In succeeding texts, it is Idani-kimu who performs this role for a number of years (Archi 1996: 46). It is reasonable to assume (although no documents prove this) that Idani-kimu was 5.  Fronzaroli 1993, Text 1 (Amazau): §§ 38–50, 55, 60, 87–93; Text 2 (Enna-il): §§ 41–53, 58, 63, 91–94. Some sacrifices were offered also by the minister, Text 1 (Arrukum): §§ 70–72; Text 2 (Ibrium): §§ 73–75.

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that son of Azi. In any case, it is certain that Azi was succeeded by one of his sons. Azi was a scribe active in the very first years of the central archive and appears in the wedding rituals of the last two kings, Irkab-damu and Išar-damu (Fronzaroli 1993: Text 1 § 33; Text 2 § 35). His task was probably that of checking that the rituals were performed according to tradition (ne varietur!). This could well be the reason why a scribe also had the task of reciting the invocation for the annual purification of the king’s house. Although Ebla offers very few cases attesting to a profession handed down from father to son, these cases are quite significant since they relate to the cultic sphere and the individuals involved held positions assigned to only one individual. These were the highest-ranking priest (lú dingir-dingir); the “servant”, pāšišu, of Kura, the god of the city; the priestess of the god Hayya / Ea; the scribe who recited the purification rites for the house of the king. As regards the sector of specialized workers, roughly 150 carpenters and 500 smiths were active in the city of Ebla. We are not informed as to how they were recruited by the palace administration. Children at a tender age probably began to play with the work tools of their fathers but, to date, we have firm proof of only one case of a worker who followed the same profession as his father. A relatively late document mentions a certain Enna-il, son of Niwa, gardener (nu-giškiri6) (TM.75.G.10278 obv. V 11–12). This Niwa was also a gardener, according to a document of minister Arrukum, dated about twenty years earlier: ARET XV,1 39 § 55. 6 6. This Niwa appears also in TM.75.G.1407 obv.  IV 11–12, a document to be dated perhaps to minister Ibrium.

References Archi, A. 1996 Eblaite pāšišu “colui che è addetto all’unzione; sacerdote purificatore; cameriere al servizio di una persona”. Vicino Oriente 10: 37–71. 2000 The “Lords”, lugal-lugal, of Ebla. A Prosopographic Study. Vicino Oriente 12: 19–58. 2010 The God Hay(y)a (Ea/Enki) at Ebla. Pp.  15–36 in Opening the Tablet Box. Near Eastern Studies in Honor of Benjamin R. Foster. Edited by S. C. Melville and A. L. Slotsky. Leiden–Boston: Brill. 2013 History of Syria in the Third Millennium: the Written Sources. Pp. 75–88 in Archeologie et histoire de la Syrie. La Syrie de l’époque néolitique à l’âge du fer. Edited by W. Orthmann, M. al-Maqdissi and P. Matthiae. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag. 2014 Who led the army of Ebla. Pp. 19–25 in Krieg und Frieden: Proceedings of the 52e Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale. AOAT 401. Edited by H. Neumann et al. Münster: Ugarit-Verlag. Fronzaroli, P. 1993 Testi rituali della regalità. ARET XI. Roma: Missione Archeologica Italiana in Siria. Kümmel, H. M. 1979 Familie, Beruf und Amt im spätbabylonischen Uruk. Abh. der Deutschen Orient-Gesellschaft 20. Berlin: Gebr. Mann Verlag. Michalowski, P. 1991. Charisma and Control: on Continuity and Change in Early Mesopotamia Bureaucratic Systems. Pp. 45–57 in The Organization of Power. Aspects of Bureaucracy in the Ancient Near East. Edited by M. Gibson and R. D. Biggs. Chicago, Ill.: The Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago.

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Nielsen, J. P. 2011 Sons and Descendants. A Social History of Kin Groups and Family Names in the Early Neo-Babylonian Period, 747–626 BC. Leiden–Boston: Brill. Sjöberg, Å. 1973 Der Vater und sein Missratener Sohn. JCS 25: 105–169. Winter I. J. 1991 Legitimation of Authority Through Image and Legend. Pp. 59–99 in The Organization of Power. Aspects of Bureaucracy in the Ancient Near East. Edited by M. Gibson and R. D. Biggs. Chicago, Ill.: The Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago.

Family Firms in the Ur III Period Steven J. Garfinkle Bellingham (WA)

The themes of family and inheritance have a critical place in the investigation of the society and economy of ancient Mesopotamia. 1 The transfer of property and status within familial groups was a significant means of managing access to wealth and power. During the fourth and third millennia b.c., the proliferation of crafts and professions within the urban centers of southern Mesopotamia meant that specialized knowledge was also increasingly being passed down along hereditary lines. In this contribution, I focus on several aspects of the theme of parents and children in order to examine the role of the family alongside the rise and fall of the Ur III state. Since the Ur III period itself is more or less defined by three royal generations, the whole enterprise can be regarded as a family firm at the highest level. 2 First, I will discuss some of the related assumptions that we often make about early states in general and about the Ur III kingdom more specifically. I will then examine the connection between families and professions, with a particular focus on merchant groups as family firms. Finally, I will return to the broader picture and outline how this investigation of families allows us to better understand state building and collapse in Mesopotamia at the end of the third millennium b.c. Investigating the operation of family firms in the Ur III period compels us to examine some of our assumptions about that society. The first of these assumptions is directly connected to our ideas about the growth of state power in early Mesopotamia, and the second assumption is related to our ideas about the permanence of social status in ancient communities. We assume that the rise of the territorial state involved the appropriation of direct centralized control over both resources and social hierarchies. At the same time, we assume that status within these hierarchies was inherited and relatively static. Therefore, we presume that families retained a great deal of significance as carriers of professions and status. In the Ur III period these points take on added importance because of the relative scarcity of landed estates. For the most part even prominent members of the urban communities did not inherit land, other than homes and orchards. Instead, they inherited goods and positions. 1.  I am grateful to Professor Alfonso Archi for inviting me to participate in the workshop “From Parents to Children” at the 57th Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale in Roma. 2.  The Third Dynasty of Ur is traditionally placed at the end of the third millennium (2112–2004 b.c.), and it includes the reigns of five kings: Ur-Namma, Šulgi, Amar-Suen, Šu-Suen, and Ibbi-Suen. The last three kings were likely brothers and therefore the sons of Šulgi and the grandsons of Ur-Namma.

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In early Mesopotamia, as in most ancient communities, control of specialized knowledge and abilities was almost as significant as direct control of resources, and such control translated into status and authority. This was as true for craftsmen and professionals as it was for high office holders. Crafts, professions, and offices were almost always passed down from parents to children. 3 This was a key component of Ur III socioeconomic organization from the top down. Clearly, the royal family and the court, at the center of elite power in the new state, had a vested interest in maintaining these forms of inheritance. Of course, this also meant that they had to commit to a system that limited their authority in the regional urban centers of their state. At this point, in fact, our various assumptions about the Ur III state collide. How could the state appropriate and consolidate centralized power over the community while also maintaining the sanctity of the hereditary inheritance of status and professions within local urban communities? This paper is intended as a broad survey of how power and economic privilege, at all levels, coalesced in families and households, and determined the fate of the state building enterprise of the Ur III kings. I will illustrate these points with an extended discussion of family firms among the merchants (damgar in Sumerian). 4 The damgars were a very prominently attested professional group in early Mesopotamian archives. 5 The nature of the their work and the abundance of surviving evidence documenting that work make the merchants an exemplary case study. I will focus on the operation of family firms and not simply on ideas of inheritance. My purpose is to demonstrate how families operated as cooperative endeavors, and how they controlled important professions and industries.

Family Firms Among the Merchants Merchants were prominent urban professionals throughout southern Mesopotamia. The archives from each of the major cities contain numerous references to the damgars and their activity. Their business often took them away from their native communities and some merchants turn up in the texts from more than one location. 6 The merchant organizations in all of the urban centers of the Ur III state were based on regional and familial ties. The title of damgar was passed down from fathers to sons, and it was not unusual for many sons to follow their father into the profession. 7 Within each city the organization of merchants consisted of clusters 3.  In the Ur III period this often meant that several brothers in the same generation would follow their father into the family profession or business. The inheritance of titles and status was patrilineal but also characterized by fratrilineal succession. This process also determined succession to the highest offices within the royal family and other elite families, see Dahl 2007. 4.  For a more extensive discussion of merchants, see Garfinkle 2010b and 2012: chapters 6 and 7. The organizations of the merchants are also discussed in Garfinkle 2010a. 5.  The damgars are usually seen as occupying a middle ground in the social structure of Mesopotamian cities. Their wealth placed them above more ordinary craftsmen, such as smiths and potters; but we do not customarily number them among the elite. The latter assumption may have to be revisited. The merchants often appeared in leading places on the lists of professionals delivering sacrificial animals to the crown. See, for example, the prominent merchant Lu-Nanna who was listed alongisde šabras (estate managers) and an ensi (governor) on texts dated to Amar-Suen 5 (BIN 3 538 and TRU 123). 6.  Lu-Nanna, a merchant from Umma, and Turam-ili, a merchant from Iri-saĝrig are good examples; see Garfinkle 2008. 7.  In this way the profession of damgar mirrored other professions in the era, both among the elite offices and among the crafts. These broader comparisons are discussed below.

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of families, and three generations of merchants were often documented in these families, covering roughly the entire span of preserved Ur III history. 8 We find good evidence for such families in Ĝirsu, Umma, and Nippur, as well as in the merchant activity documented at Drehem, and in the Turam-ili archive from Iri-Saĝrig. Hence family firms of merchants were active throughout the state and within the varied corpora of Ur III texts. These firms handled some of the most important business in the state. The family of Ur-šaga in Ĝirsu (see below) was responsible for collecting silver for the bala. The bala was the most prominent means through which the state centralized the collection and distribution of resources. 9 Turam-ili oversaw several family groups that also maintained accounts for the bala. 10 These activities directly connected the merchant families to the state building enterprise of the Ur III kings. The crown sought to centralize the control of resources, but it did so through the efforts of local operations run by families. In Ĝirsu the best attested family of merchants was headed by Ur-šaga, who was listed in one document as a damgar 10, a merchant in charge of 10 merchants. 11 Ur-šaga was the son of Eki, the merchant; and at least four sons of Ur-šaga were documented at Ĝirsu who were also merchants. 12 The merchant families functioned as collectives, and the merchants in the same generation often worked as partners. The brothers could authorize transactions and receive goods on one another’s behalf. The following text shows how such partnerships worked in practice among Ur-šaga’s sons. BM 13000: 1 gu2 15 ma-na sig2-gen/ niĝ2-šam2 gu4-še3/ ki Lu2-dNin-ĝir2-su-ta/ Urgu2-en-na/ šu ba-ti/ mu Ur-gu2-en-na dam-gar3-še3/ kišib A-gi4 dam-gar3. Seal: Ur-ni9-[ĝar]/ dam-[gar3]/ dumu Ur-ša[6-ga] Ur-guenna received 1 talent and 15 mana of medium quality wool for the purchase of oxen from Lu-Ninĝirsu. Agi received (sealed) [it] on behalf of Ur-guenna. Seal: Ur-niĝar, the merchant, the son of Ur-šaga.

The text identified one brother as the recipient of the wool but noted that another brother received it under seal on his behalf, while a third brother actually sealed the transaction. 13 The families of merchants were under the leadership of senior members of the family. This seniority was also reflected in the oversight of merchant activity within each of the cities of southern Mesopotamia. Two significant titles reflected that hierarchy: ugula damgar, overseer of merchants, and damgar 10, merchant in charge of 10 merchants. These two titles demonstrate some regional variability. Turam-ili was an ugula damgar in the texts from Iri-sagrig and Lu-Nanna was an 8.  For the century that comprised the rule of the Ur III kings, we have good documentation for a period of roughly fifty years, from about the thirtieth year of Šulgi’s reign to the eighth year of the reign of Ibbi-Suen. For more detail, see Molina 2008. 9.  See Sharlach 2004. 10.  See Garfinkle 2012: chapter 6. 11.  TCTI 2 3329. 12.  For Ur-šaga the son of Eki, see, for example, MVN 9 77, BM 024036, UNT 71, and TUT 124. For four of his sons, see the following: Ur-niĝar (SAT I 364, 366 and BM 024799a), Ur-guenna (RA 58 102 58 and UNT 69), Lu-Ninĝirsu (TCTI 2 3865), and Agi (TUT 189). 13.  Dahl 2010: 287–9 highlights a similar example of brothers acting in concert in a text documenting the activities of potters at Umma (and see below).

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ugula damgar in a text from Umma. 14 Ur-šaga was a damgar 10 from Ĝirsu and at least three men bore that same title in Nippur: Lugal-usur, Katar, and Ur-Nuska. 15 Both of these titles likely indicated a position as head of a community of merchants. Though we do not have a great deal of data on these titles, only one such individual was attested in each of these places at any one time. These overseers of merchant activity controlled the business of the merchant families and they were prominent members of those families in their own right. 16 Where we find groups of families acting together under the supervision of one these leaders we might surmise that the groups were connected by extended family ties which are no longer visible to us in the surviving documentation. In many texts we also find merchants identified simply as ugula, “overseer”, when regulating the activity of other merchants. This is the case in a variety of transactions and usually indicates an increased level of responsibility for the activity listed on the tablet. An example of this from Ĝirsu again involves the family of Ur-šaga. In BM 25082 a large group of merchants arranged for the purchase of cattle. Ten merchants each bought a cow, and their entries were divided into four sections. Each section was under the oversight of an ugula who was also among the listed merchants. All of the ugulas were members of the same family of merchants. The title here was a temporary administrative necessity indicating responsibility for a single transaction. In this case the family of Ur-šaga was responsible for this transaction. In this text, as in other merchant texts, and especially in the texts that recorded transactions on behalf of the bala, 17 the merchants with seniority collected the contributions and transactions of those who served beneath them. The merchants who received deliveries from other merchants, or who were responsible for collecting the deliveries in a large transaction, were those who can be identified in other texts as belonging to an earlier generation or holding more significant titles, such as damgar 10. The family firms were based in different urban centers of the Ur III state. The merchant organization of one city frequently had contact with the organizations from other cities. And some of these groups sent members to distant locales to be responsible for significant transactions. 18 The damgars had a long history of responsibilities within their local urban economies, and the families of merchants provided critical commercial services for the institutional estates in the cities. 19 The growing centralization fostered by the crown made the state a lucrative client for the merchants. This centralization may also have fostered an increase in the geographical range of activities for the merchants. At the same time, the organization of the damgars continued to be autonomous and access to the profession remained

15.

14. Turam-ili: JCS 38 37; Lu-Nanna: Nik 2 447. 15.  Ur-šaga: TCTI 2 3329; Lugal-usur: BBVO 11 280; Katar: Steinkeller 1989: 7; Ur-Nuska: BE 3/1

16.  This is most apparent in the Turam-ili texts. He administered a series of balanced accounts on behalf of the merchants under his supervision. He handed out accounts to the merchants he controlled, most of whom were organized in family firms in which the higher ranking positions belonged to a senior family member in each generation. For the Turam-ili archive, see Van De Mieroop 1986; and Garfinkle 2002 and 2012, chapter 6. 17.  See, for example, UNT 97, BM 24036, and BM 25445. 18.  See Garfinkle 2008, and see, for example, Garfinkle 2012 texts 85 and 86. 19.  A good example of a merchant with a special institutional relationship is Lugal-usur, a damgar 10 active on behalf of the temple of Inanna in Nippur; see Zettler 1996: 226.

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hereditary. The family firms enabled merchants in the different communities to pool their resources and to act as a collective. Court records make clear that the merchants also maintained their own distinct households and expected to participate in partitive inheritance.

Craftsmen and Other Professionals Moving beyond my friends the merchants, a broader look at other professions and crafts is critical to assessing the impact of the family and family firms in the socio-economic fabric of the Ur III state. We see similar processes to those outlined above at work among other groups, such as the foresters studied by Piotr Steinkeller. 20 An instructive example for this investigation is provided by Jacob Dahl’s recent examination of a group of potters at Umma, which shows a family at work organizing the production of pots. 21 Pešam and Utu-šaga were the sons of Ur-niĝar, a well-attested potter at Umma. Both Pešam and Utu-šaga were identified in the Umma texts as supervising of the work of potters in their group. In one text, Pešam acted as ugula, receiving rations for the potters. 22 The text bears the impression of his brother Utu-šaga’s seal. Here we see exactly the same kind of familial cooperation and shared authority that we encountered among the merchants. Dahl also identified a third generation of the family of Ur-niĝar who served as senior members of this group of potters. 23 The senior administrator with whom these potters interacted, the individual responsible for their accounts, was a member of the ensi’s family in Umma. The family in charge of the work of these potters was clearly far below the status of the ruling family of Umma, but they dealt directly with the highest office holders in their city. Moreover, their familial organization mirrored that of the ensi’s clan. As a final example, we find similar family firms when we look at the organization of herding by urban professionals. Some of the na-gada, “chief herdsmen”, were very prominently attested in the Ur III corpora. This was the case for Lu-Dumuzi and his father Dugazida, both herdsmen from Ĝirsu. 24 The family of SI.A-a, the famous shepherd from Iri-saĝrig, engaged in similar behavior to that which I have outlined for the merchants. 25 He and his brother, Garili, first appeared in our texts as sipas, “shepherds”, but later rose at the same time to the position of na-gada. The brothers were business partners in a family firm that went well beyond the shepherding that their professional designation would imply. In all of these cases, from merchants to potters to shepherds, my focus is not on fratrilineal succession, but rather on the coterminous power exercised among fratrilineal groups within professional organizations. This is not just about succession to office holding, but rather it is about economic power wielded by families who acted in concert. We have a tendency to view the control of small-scale crafts and labor, 20.  Steinkeller 1987. 21.  Dahl 2010. 22.  MVN 1, 167. The term ugula was in use among the potters in much the same way as it was used among the merchants. 23.  Dahl 2010: 288–9. Dahl 2010: 289 says of the potters, “The daily business of the team was managed by a few of its members most likely belonging to the same family.” 24.  MVN 9 21. 25.  For SI.A-a and his brother, see Garfinkle 2012: chapter 5.

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such as the potters and foresters and herdsmen, as a means for the state to further its command of the economy. This is certainly correct, but we must keep in mind the extent to which the state also had to cooperate with and support these family organizations. The urban bias of our evidence usually focuses our attention on those families that had significant property or had extensive dealings with the state administration such that their business was recorded on tablets. I am not suggesting that all professionals and craftsmen were members of the elite (indeed I will turn my attention to elite office holders and the royal household below), but we need to recognize that the craftsmen and professionals identified in our texts enjoyed a greater status than the majority of the laborers of the Ur III period, whose family arrangements often lie beyond our knowledge. Significantly, for those families that can be studied we find similar patterns of socioeconomic behavior on the part of wealthy merchants and laboring potters. Knowledge, property, and status were hereditary rights that were closely guarded by extended family groups. These groups were subject to the growing power of the state, but their status was determined by mechanisms of inheritance that lay outside of direct state control.

High Office Holders and The Royal Elite Various professionals and craftsmen often dealt directly with the elite families of the Ur III state. Merchants, potters, leatherworkers and others did their business on behalf of estate managers, governors, and the crown. The importance of families and of family firms among the high office holders of the Ur III state has long been an active area of study. The examinations of the house of Ur-Meme at Nippur by W. W. Hallo and by Richard Zettler, and of the ruling family of Umma by Dahl are good examples. 26 These instances of family succession to the highest offices in the traditional urban centers of southern Mesopotamia show the limits of state power to interfere among the elite. Even in those cases in which the privileges of these families were curtailed, this was usually temporary. Titles and status were passed from generation to generation among the elite, even as these families became part of the larger royal elite of the new state. Alexandra Kleinerman highlighted this in her study of Šu-Kabta, the general in charge of the estate at Garšana. 27 The general was also a doctor (asu in Sumerian), and, according to Kleinerman, his brother and his sister held that title as well. 28 The rank of general was likely bestowed upon Šu-Kabta by the royal family, but he was already a man of status within the community as a result of his father’s positions. A family’s status within Ur III society was usually immutable, and this posed a problem for the royal elite in terms of its own growth. This was solved through the expansion of the royal household itself. The crown depended upon numerous crafts26.  Hallo 1972; Zettler 1984; and Dahl 2007. 27.  Kleinerman 2011. 28.  Kleinerman 2011: 178–80. The reconstruction of a generation of doctors in Šu-Kabta’s family not only highlights the inheritance of profession and status, but it also points to some significant gaps in our understanding of Ur III society. Šu-Kabta’s sister Ubartum was also a doctor. The possession of such titles may have been limited to elite women, but we currently have no way of knowing how widespread the practice may have been. Women may have been much more active in the public life of the state than we have acknowledged.

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men and professionals whose standing was based on regional familial ties, but the state also increasingly relied upon new groups of professional soldiers and administrators. These groups owed their allegiance more directly to the royal family. The patrimonial nature of the state led the crown to attach these individuals directly to the royal household. Hence the newer institutions came to be modeled on notions of identity and inheritance borrowed directly from broader social norms. In his examination of Dada, the lamentation singer (gala in Sumerian), Piotr Michalowski discussed the well-known practice by which local elites from outside of the heartland of Babylonia became members of the house of the Ur III royal family: “Some were literally married into the royal family of Ur, others were symbolically incorporated into the extended patrimonial clan that ruled the two most important states of the area, Mari and Ur.” 29 Within the kingdom of Ur, the military functioned as a major arena in which new status bound directly to the state could be created within the social hierarchy. Significantly, this was accomplished through the integration of the highest military commanders into the family of the kings. 30

Practical Considerations and Conclusions In conclusion, let me offer some brief observations about family firms and the Ur III state. One important result of this investigation is the suggestion that the term ugula was used as a marker of status within professional groups based on family ties. The title ugula was frequently not a fixed professional or administrative rank but rather an identifier of seniority within a familial craft or professional organization. Senior members of a family group adopted the term ugula on an ad hoc basis within our documents for organizing their economic activities (labor, production, trade, etc.) and interacting with the central administration. Therefore, the oversight exercised by ugulas was beyond direct state control. In an environment in which land ownership was rare outside of elite families and institutions, the emphasis in inheritance was on the moveable property of the household, but even more significantly on the position and knowledge that professions entailed. This is consistent with the legal evidence most recently studied by Manuel Molina in the court records at Umma. 31 A profession entitled a household to earn a living, whether it was making pots or making loans. The status that came with these professions gave households a place in the community. Since our records deal mostly with urban households, we are almost always talking about privileged individuals even if these are not people we would ordinarily number among the elite. Ultimately, the collapse of the state can be viewed specifically in terms of the family and of the over-reliance on familial inheritance as the primary source of power and privilege in the Ur III world. The failure of the state to create effective administrative structures beyond the influence of the powerful local elites, who were organized in family firms, certainly abetted its fragmentation early in the reign of Ibbi-Suen. 29.  Michalowski 2006: 60. The case of Dada is also instructive because of the manner in which he operated. For example, in MVN 16, 683 Dada collected animals from his colleagues for delivery to the ensi in much the same way that the ugula damgars collected material from their colleagues. 30.  A good example of this was Šu-Kabta’s marriage to the princess Simat-Ištaran. 31.  Molina 2010.

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References Dahl, J. 2007 The Ruling Family of Ur III Umma, a Prosopographical Analysis of an Elite Family in Southern Iraq 4000 Years Ago. Leiden: Nederlands Institute Voor Het Nabije Oosten. 2010 A Babylonian Gang of Potters. Reconstructing the Social Organization of Crafts Production in Late Third Millennium b.c. Southern Mesopotamia. Pp. 275–306 in City Administration in the Ancient Near East, Proceedings of the 53e Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale Vol. 2 (Babel und Bibel 5). Edited by L. Kogan et al. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Garfinkle, S. 2002 Turam-ili and the Community of Merchants in the Ur III Period. Journal of Cuneiform Studies 54: 29–48. 2008 Silver and Gold: Merchants and the Economy of the Ur III State. Pp. 63–70 in On the Third Dynasty of Ur, Studies in Honor of Marcel Sigrist. The Journal of Cuneiform Studies, Supplemental Series Volume 1. Edited by Piotr Michalowski. Boston: American Schools of Oriental Research. 2010a What Work Did the Damgars Do? Towards a Definition of Ur III Labor. Pp. 307–316 in City Administration in the Ancient Near East, Proceedings of the 53e Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale Vol. 2. Babel und Bibel 5. Edited by L. Kogan et al. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. 2010b Merchants and State Formation in Early Mesopotamia. Pp. 185–202 in Opening the Tablet Box: Near Eastern Studies in Honor of Benjamin R. Foster. Edited by Sarah C. Melville and Alice L. Slotsky. Leiden: Brill. 2012 Entrepreneurs and Enterprise in Early Mesopotamia: A Study of Three Archives from the Third Dynasty of Ur. CUSAS 22. Bethesda, MD: CDL Press. Hallo, W. W. 1972 The House of Ur-Meme. Journal of Near Eastern Studies 31/1: 87–95. Kleinerman, A. 2011 Doctor Šu-Kabta’s Family Practice. Pp. 177–182 in Garšana Studies. CUSAS 6. Edited by David I. Owen.Bethesda, MD: CDL Press. Michalowski, P. 2006 Love or Death? Observations on the Role of the Gala in Ur III Ceremonial Life. Journal of Cuneiform Studies 58: 49–61. Molina, M. 2008 The Corpus of Neo-Sumerian Texts: An Overview. Pp. 19–54 in The Growth of an Early State in Mesopotamia: Studies in Ur III Administration. BPOA 5. Edited by S. Garfinkle and J. Cale Johnson., Madrid: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científícas. 2010 Court Records from Umma. Pp. 201–218 in Why Should Someone Who Knows Something Conceal It? Cuneiform Studies in Honor of David I. Owen on His 70th Birthday. Edited by Alexandra Kleinerman and Jack M. Sasson. Bethesda, MD: CDL Press, 2010. Sharlach, T. 2004 Provincial Taxation in the Ur III State. Leiden: Brill. Steinkeller, P. 1987 The Foresters of Umma: Towards a Definition of Ur III Labor. Pp. 73–115 in Labor in the Ancient Near East. Edited by Marvin A. Powell. New Haven: American Oriental Society. 1989 Sale Documents of the Ur III Period. Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag, 1989. Van De Mieroop, M. 1986 Turam-Ili: An Ur III Merchant. Journal of Cuneiform Studies 38/1: 1–80. Zettler, R. 1984 The Genealogy of the House of Ur-Me-me: a Second Look. Archiv für Orientforschung 31: 1–9. 1992 The Ur III Temple of Inanna at Nippur. The operation and organisation of urban religious institutions in Mesopotamia in the late third millennium B.C. Berlin: Dietrich Reimer Verlag.

A Chip Off the Old Block:

The Transmission of Titles and Offices within the Family in Old Babylonian Sippar 1 M. Tanret Ghent

In a traditional society like the Mesoptamian one it seems natural that crafts, occupations and functions involving knowledge and skills (and producing revenues) would be transmitted from father to son, especially in the absence of formal schools. This is formulated more specifically by M. Stol “Wir sehen öfters, dass ein Beruf in der Familie bleibt, besonders bei Tempel—oder Staatsbediensteten wie Schreiber. F. R. Kraus verbindet Dienstverpflichtung mit Familienberuf. An erster Stelle ist wohl der älteste Sohn der berufliche Nachfolger seines Vaters, mehrmals trägt er den Namen seines Grossvaters” (Stol 2004: 710–11). Temple personnel and scribes are singled out and service obligations are said to remain within families. Of course, in some cases different sets of skills were required which the father alone could not provide, as for instance in the case of high ranking temple personnel. A good example is the Chief Dirge Singer (gala.maḫ) Ur-Utu who, in order to exercise his office, needed a basic knowledge of reading/writing and a thorough knowledge of the rites and all the wherewithal connected to his gala.maḫ-ship. In his case the basic writing was taught by a scribe who quite regularly visited the house to write documents; everything relevant for his office must have been taught by his father. In other cases, where only knowledge of a craft or a lower priestly function was required, a father-predecessor would be best placed to provide this tuition. Although the family transmission thus seems very plausible, when we set out to document it for a number of crafts, occupations or offices we soon realised that this wasn’t very easy to observe. The main obstacle in our documentation is that when a text mentions an occupation, craft or office it most often does not add a patronymic. Even when the father’s name is added and even when this name can be found in other texts with the same occupation it is not always straightforward to determine whether this refers to the same person. There is quite a measure of homonymy in Old Babylonian Sippar which makes this kind of search difficult. Chronology can come to the rescue since there should not be too large a time span between a father and his son but this does not help when we deal with synchronous homonymy. In such cases we can only list the different possibilities in the hope that future information will allow us to get a clearer picture. Help is provided by seal impressions because, when they have a 1.  Names of Old Babylonian kings will be abbreviated as follows : Im = Immerum, Bti = Buntaḫtunila, Sle = Sumu-la-el, Sa = Sabium, AS = Apil-Sîn, Sm = Sîn-muballiṭ, Ḫa = Ḫammu-rabi, Si = Samsuiluna, Ae = Abi-ešuḫ, Ad = Ammi-ditana, Aṣ = Ammi-ṣaduqa and Sd = Samsu-ditana.

525

526

M. Tanret

legend, this can give the patronymic missing in the text even in some cases adding the father’s title. In some cases a same seal can be used by successive generations, providing a secure link between them.

The Corpus In order to have a sufficiently large corpus, a frequency list of crafts, occupations and offices in Old Babylonian Sippar was compiled, on the basis of the 7960 texts we now have assembled from this city in this period. The names of the persons who were so defined were collected and, when available, the name of their father, in order to find out whether he too was documented with the same (or another) occupation. Out of these we selected the most frequent occupations. For this first survey we have arbitrarily drawn the line at a frequency of 80, which represents the thirteen most attested ones. These are:

The Most Frequent Titles 1

dub.sar (865) dumu.é.dub.ba.a (320)

1,185

2

di.kud

3

ugula gidri (PA.PA)

4

ugula lukur utu.meš

158

5

lú ku7

146

6

ugula dam.gàr

122

7

šu.i

112

8

ugula MAR.TU

107

9

máš.šu.gíd.gíd

102

10

dam.gàr

95

11

sipa

83

12

ì.du8

83

13

kù.dím

80

471 d

175

Obviously, the second most frequent office in Sippar is lukur Utu/nadīt Šamaš with over a thousand occurrences, but since they were not supposed to have children there can hardly be a succession. The fact that there were many aunts and nieces who were lukur is not so much a case of succession than it is of family politics. The Chief Dirge Singers of Annunītum have an unfair advantage since their archive was found in situ. We will discuss the transmission of the Dirge Singer (gala) title as well as the promotion to Chief Dirge Singer (gala.maḫ) further on. In the following pages we will examine each of these titles in the order of the table above.

1.  The Scribes (dub.sar and dumu.é.dub.ba.a) This is no doubt the best attested occupation. In total we have 1185 attestations of scribes but it is as yet impossible to determine the number of different scribes because we can establish, certainly in the case of some well documented names, that there was a good measure of contemporaneous homonymy.

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527

In the overwhelming majority of cases the father’s name is not mentioned. Only 56 texts mention it. Seals can be of great help here and we have collected 74 seals of scribes with legends, all mentioning the title (with three exceptions) and most of them giving the father’s name, except for 12 of them, three because the inscription is a prayer in Sumerian and nine because it is simply left out. Notwithstanding this rich documentation the texts and the seals provide us with only a limited number of scribal successions:  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10  11  12  13  14  15

Scribal Successions daughter/son

scribe from–to

span

father

scribe from–to

span

Abba-ṭābum

SA 33

20

Enlil-abum

AS–Sm 135

Ḫa 25–Ḫa 32 (S)6

8

Nanna-mansum

Sa 10–Ḫa 11 (S)7 53

Sîn-nādin-šumi

Si 21—Ae “e”(S)8

18+

Ipiq-Aja(S) s. Išme-Ea(S)9 Ḫa 14–Si 2110

Nidnuša

Ae 28–Aṣ 811

45

Šamaš-nāṣir

Si 30(S)12

Sîn-nāṣir

Ad 5-Aṣ 13(S)13

45

Ipiq-Annunītum

Si 30–Ae “o” 14

Inanna-amamu

Bti,Sli, Sa2

Ibni-Enlil

Ḫa 1–21(S)4

Ibbi-Ilabrat

14+ 50 2715

2.  From Sle, Bti (CT 48, 30; MHET 17; BDHP 31; Edubba 7 n° 118) to Sa (CT 47, 1). 3.  VS 8, 1 (SA 3) and RT 17, 30 (s.d.). 4.  From Ḫa 1 (VS 9, 165) to Ḫa 21 (MHET 206). Although the chronology fits nicely, the link with Enlil-abum is tenuous. In his four attestations Ibni-Enlil has the title but never a patronymic. In one text (VS 8, 79 s.d.) he is the son of Enlil-abi (without title). We have impressions of his seal on CT 4, 20c (Ḫa 20) and MHET 206 (Ḫa 21). 5. From AS (CT 45, 10 and MHET 61) to Sm 13 (CT 4, 49b), always with the title, never a patronymic. 6.  From Ḫa 25 (CT 47, 39) to Ḫa 32 (MHET 246). On this last text we find an impression of his seal. 7.  From Sa 10 (CT 6, 47a) to Ḫa 11 (MHET 159). According to his oldest attestation and his seal there, he is the son of Ur-Lugalbanda. 8.  Attested five times, from Si 21 (Di 1078) to Ae (“e”: Dekiere 1991 (BM 96980 and BM 96956); “u”: TIM 5, 47; 5). There is another scribe of this name somewhat later. The seal of Sîn-nādin-šumi son of Ipiq-Aja is impressed on Di 1173 (Si 36) and on Dekiere 1991 (BM 96980 and BM 96956) (Ae “e”). 9.  There is a scribe Išme-Ea, attested from Sm 13 (TCL I, 70) to Ḫa 15 (VS 9, 19). His seal is impressed on BE 6/2, 84: Si 15). If he is Ipiq-Aja’s father, there would be an overlap of a year with his son, which is unusual. The date of VS 9, 19 is broken, it has “mu alan ⸢x x⸣ which could be interpreted as ⸢7.bi⸣ (= Ḫa 15) or ⸢ḫa-am⸣-[mu-ra-bi] which is Ḫa 22 and much worse for our purpose. 10.  Ḫa 14 (CT 47, 22) to Si 30 (Di 685). His seal has the title and we have impressions on six documents, from Si 9 (CT 47, 62a) to Si 30 (Di 685). This last document is interesting because, just as on Di 1078 (Si 21) in the text he is first witness and šakkanaku (gìr.nità) but uses his dub.sar seal. In view of these, CT 6, 20a (Si 29) and PBS 8/2, 194 should be corrected: Ipiq-Aja gìr-nìta is not the son of Ea-magir but of Išme-Ea (strangely as it may appear the cuneiform signs could allow this but collation is needed). The seeming overlap with his son, who starts in Si 21 can thus be resolved: the father is first dub.sar and in Si 21 he becomes gìr.nìta, in that same year his son starts as a scribe (both in the same text: Di 1078) 11.  From Ae 28 (OLA 21, 63) to Aṣ 8 (Di 1630). Patronymic on OLA 21, 63. There is another scribe of this name attested under Si. 12.  On Pinches-Peek 14 and JCS 11, 78. Also on OLA 21, 81, date lost. His seal is impressed on Pinches Peek 14. 13.  From Ad 5 (BAP 69) to Ad 34 (CT 8, 2a) with the title, one text has the patronymic (BAP 69). The range of his attestations is extended by his seal, impressed on BE 6/1, 84 (where he still has the title) but also on Di 706 (Aṣ 12), Di 973 and OLA 21, 41 (both Aṣ 13). In the last three texts he is mentioned with patronymic but without a title. 14.  From Si 30 (MHET 454) to Ae “o” (CT 8, 33a). 15.  If Horsnell’s (1999: 79) proposal of Ae “o” = 15? is followed.

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M. Tanret

Scribal Successions daughter/son

scribe from–to

span

father

scribe from–to

span

Gimil-Marduk

Ad 11—Aṣ 13(S)16

3

Marduk-nāṣir

Ad 3-Ad 2317

20

Warad-ilīšu

Ad 23–Aṣ 8(S)18

22

Ibni-Adad

Ae-Ad 419

4+

Ibbi-Ilabrat

Ad 28-Aṣ 220

11

Nanna-mansum

Ad 22–Ad 2521

4

Šallurum

Aṣ 11–Sd 18(S)

28

Warad-Ibari son of Warad-Mamu

Aṣ 5–18(S) Ad 2924

13

Šamaš-mušallim Aṣ 1425

Utul-Ištar

Ad 22-Aṣ 7(S)26

Rīš-Marduk

Aṣ 1727

Marduk-mušallim

Ad 29-Aṣ 1228

Sîn-išmeanni

Aṣ 18–Sd 9(S)29

Etel-pi-Marduk

Ad 3030

22

12

23

9+

  16  17  18  19  20  21  22  23  24  25  26  27  28  29  30

Thirteen successions cannot be deemed to be a great success, although among these, we have two possible cases of a three generation succession: Išme-Ea/Ipiq-Aja/Sînnādin-šumi and Warad-Mamu/Warad-Ibari/Šallurum. 16.  From Ad 11 (TLOB 16) to Aṣ 13 (seven references in TLOB Table 13). Father’s name in one text only: MHET 670 (d.l. but Ad-Aṣ). If the references of his father before Ad 23 belong to the same person then there would be an overlap with the father’s activity, which is unusual. His seal is impressed on Di 884 (Aṣ 8). In this text he has no patronymic and the seal is a Sumerian prayer not mentioning his name. 17.  From Ad 3 (CT 33, 30) to Ad 23 (Di 1371). There is an attestation of a Marduk-nāṣir scribe in Si 18 but this must be another person. 18.  From Ad 23 (Di 1230 and VS 29, 50) to Aṣ 8 (Di 919). Always with the title, once with a patronymic: Ibni-Adad. His seal is impressed on CT 33, 31 (Ad 31). There are references to a scribe of this name under Sle and Ḫa but these cannot refer to the same person. 19.  This scribe poses an interesting problem. Scribes with this name but without patronymic are attested from Sle (MHET 16) to Ad 4 (TCL I, 150). This is much too long for them to be one person. The problem then is where to split the list of references (and in how many parts). In the absence of a father’s name or other indications we can only suggest that if the Ibni-Adad, father of Warad-ilīšu indeed was a scribe, he must have lived under Ae–Ad. This could fit well with the evidence since there are no mentions of an Ibni-Adad under Si (but seven under Ḫa). This is the option we have chosen for our table so we place him from Ae (“i”: OLA 21, 10 and “q”: CT 47, 71) to Ad 4 (TCL I, 150). 20.  From Ad 28 (Di 782) to Aṣ 2 (Di 1075). His title always is dumu.é.dub.ba.a. 21.  From Ad 22 (CT 48, 66 and VS 29, 70) over Ad 24 (CT 45, 50) to Ad 25 (Charpin 1982: 32: BM 80422). 22.  From Aṣ 11 (CT 6, 6) to Sd 18 (VS 29, 61). If the attestations before Aṣ 18 belong to him, then there is an overlap with his father, which is unusual. His seal is impressed on VS 13, 15 (Aṣ year name lost). 23.  From Aṣ 5 (Di 826) to 18 (BE 6/1, 105). His seal is impressed on Di 900 (Aṣ 11). 24.  MHET 494 where he is a dumu.é.dub.ba.a. 25.  MHET 537. With title and patronymic. Also on BDHP 26 (s.d.) without patronymic. 26.  From Ad 22 (CT 48, 66) to Aṣ 7 (TIM 7, 30). He is attested as abi erén from Aṣ 9 to14. His seal (mentioning his dub.sar title) is impressed on Di 1646 (Aṣ 12), a text in which he already has the title abi erén. 27.  Attested as dub.sar, son of Marduk-mušallim in AbB 7, 156 (s.d.) and without father’s name in MHET 778 (Aṣ 17+a=17). 28.  From Ad 29 (VS 13, 47) to Aṣ 12 (Di 776). 29.  Attested from Aṣ 18 (TLOB 88) to Sd 19 (MHET 562). Always title, no patronymic. The link with his father Etel-pi-Marduk is provided by his seal which is impressed on TLOB 88 (Aṣ 18) and TLOB 92 (Sd 9). 30.  Di 1969. There is another scribe of this name under Si.

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A remarkable fact is that we twice have a father-son succession with the same names: Nanna-mansum/Ibbi-Ilabrat. We can be absolutely certain that these are not just the same people with very long careers because f.i. Ibbi-Ilabrat, starting in Ḫa 25 and attested until Aṣ 2 would have had a career of 103 years. Since his life then must have been even longer, we need no more proof. What could be the case is that these were recurring names within a family but we do not have any evidence for this. It is interesting to note that for one of the female scribes (see Lion 2001 and Lion and Robson 2005) out of the about twenty ones known, we have a father’s name. Inanna-amamu is the daughter of an Abba-ṭâbum and B. Lion has put forward convincing arguments to identify him with the scribe of that name (Lion 2001: 15–16). This is indeed what we would expect: the father scribe teaching his craft to his daughter or son. One scribe was the son of an abi erén: Sîn-mušallim, son of Marduk-mušallim. 31 Another one, as is illustrated in the table above, was the son of a scribe who became abi erén: Šamaš-mušallim, son of Utul-Ištar.

2.  The Judges (di.kud) With the judges, there is a problem in the documentation. There are 471 attestations of the title in our corpus. Out of these, 97 are just references to “the judge(s).” The remaining 374 mostly have the title accompanying a single name but in a number of cases “the judges” (di.kud.meš) precedes or follows a group of names. Apart from these, there are a number of court cases in which a group of people is listed without the title di.kud but who clearly act as judges, sometimes even with other titles. However, these last ones seem to be different from the ones designated explicitly as judges, implying that the addition of the title is really distinctive and meaningful. A positive point for our purpose is that, more than is the case with other people with a title, both the title and the patronymic of judges are mentioned in the texts. This is the case in 170 instances. Furthermore, we have the impressions of twenty four seals with legends of persons having the title di.kud in the texts but, with one exception, 32 for reasons unknown, their title never appears in their seal legend. Limiting ourselves to individuals or groups accompanied by the title di.kud, we can tentatively reconstruct families of judges. As explained in our introduction, these reconstructions are based on the names and the chronology: if judge A is son of B and there is a B son of C, then we assume that A, B and C are son, father and grandfather provided they are attested in chronological sequence. Sometimes this leads to different possible B’s and, if there are no other indications we cannot go further. The presence of the title is not taken as a criterion to select possible fathers since that would introduce circularity in our reasoning. Additional proof could have been drawn from the seals if the seal of a grandfather would have been used by his grandson, linking the three generations, as sometimes happens, but unfortunately we have no such luck for the judges. Taking all of this into account, the results of our search concerning the judges are better, not only for the succession from father to son and sometimes further, but 31.  MHET 893: Ad 34. 32.  The exception is the seal of Ilšu-ibni, son of Šamaš-bāni with a three-line framed legend: Ilšuibni/di.[kud]/dumu Šamaš-bāni/ìr Ammi[ditana.ke4].

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we also found an astonishing number of possible brothers being judges. We give the results in the tables below but it cannot be stressed enough that more research is needed to further prove or disprove most of the relations given. We start with the father-son succession; in two instances we were able to add a grandfather scribe:  33  34  35  36  37  38  39  40  41  42  43  44  45  46  47  48

Judges: Father and Son Grandfather Sîn-māgir

Father Ibbi-Šamaš (2S)33 Si 8–3634

Son Warad-ilīšu (S)35 Ae-Ad 436 Warad-Sîn Ae-Ad 637

Iddin-Šamaš (S)38 Si 3039

Etel-pī-Šamaš Ae40

Sîn-bēl-aplim (S)41 Si 1-Ae “b”42 Nanna-amah

Sîn-iddinam Si 29-Ae43

Ibni-Adad (S)44 Ae-Ad 645

Lipit-Ištar

Ibni-Marduk Ae-Ad 446

Sîn-išmeanni (2S)47 Ad 20-Aṣ 1648

33.  One seal is attested only as used by his son Tarībuša, on CT 8, 30c, dated Ad 5. This son is not attested as a judge. A second seal is attested as used by himself on OLA 21, 17 dated Si 25. 34.  Attested six times from Si 8 (Di 2139) to Si 36 (MHET 882). He is one of a group of di.kud.meš in this last reference. 35.  He uses the first seal of his father. 36.  Attested three times CT 45, 86 and 119 (Ae); CT 45, 45 (Ad 4). 37.  Attested seven times, from Ae (“h” Di 2033; “m” Di 2035, MHET 887; “q” CT 47, 71) to Ad 6 (CT 45, 46). He has the title di.kud in Ae m, q, Ad 1, 3 and 6. If, as we proposed elsewhere, the title is only given at a later age, then Ae “h” and “m” precede Ae “q”, which fits with Horsnell’s reconstruction (1999: 79). Ae “m” is then the year in which Warad-Sîn became a judge, because we have one attestation of him in this year without title (ninth month) and one with (no month name). 38.  Impressed on BE 6/2, 86 (Si 30). 39.  BE 6/2, 86. 40.  Attested once: TIM 7, 53 (Ae year name broken) where he has the title di.kud. 41.  Impressed on three tablets: Di 700 (Si 21), OLA 21, 96 (Si 22) and Si 36 (Di 1173). 42.  He is attested as son of Sîn-māgir twelve times from Si 1 (CT 47, 52) to Si 36 (Di 1173) and has the title in Si 29 (CT 6, 20a) and in Ae “b” (no patronymic). 43.  Attested five times, from Si 29 (BE 6/1, 63) to Ae (MHET 886: Ae “h”; TIM 7, 53: Ae year name broken). He has the title under Ae. 44.  Impressed on Di 1791 (Ad). 45.  Attested twelve times from Ae (CT 45, 119) to Ad 21 (TLOB 19). He has the title in all texts except Rositani 28 (Ad 2). 46.  Attested twice, in Ad 4 (BE 6/1, 119) and in a contract register containing an Ae “o” date (MHET 656). In both instances he has the title. 47.  He first uses one seal from Ad 20 to Aṣ 4 (on CT 8, 2a, Di 674, Di 686, Di 690 and Di 2163) then another one, from Aṣ 7 to Aṣ 16 (on CT 8, 3a, VS 29, 14, Di 706, Di 947, Di 1197, BAP 107, Di 1431). 48.  See our discussion of this judge in a Festschrift soon to be published. He is attested 23 times, from Ad 20 (Di 690) to Aṣ 16 (BAP 107). During 22 years (up to Aṣ 4) he never is mentioned with the title, then during ten years (from Aṣ 7 to 16) he is always mentioned with it. The adoption of the title seems to correspond with the use of the second seal, although this does not mention it, the only apparent change is the devotion, from gods (Sîn and Amurrum) to the king.

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Judges: Father and Son Grandfather

Father

Son

Rīš-Šamaš di.kud ?49

Ili-iddinam (S)50 Ae-Ad 451

Sîn-šeme (S)52 Ad 2953

Sîn-iddinam

Ibni-Adad Ae-Ad 654

Nabium-lamassašu Aṣ 11-Sd 1355

Šamaš-nāṣīr di.kud

Ibni-Šamaš (S)56 Ad 3–3257

Iddin-Ea (S)58 Ad 36-Aṣ 1459 Ipiq-Annunītum (S)60 Ad 33-Aṣ 1861

Ṣilli-Šamaš

Gimil-Marduk(2S)62 Ad 28-Aṣ 1763

  49  50  51  52  53  54  55  56  57  58  59  60  61  62  63  64  65

Ipiq-ilīšu (S)64 Aṣ 11–1665

49.  This is very conjectural. There seem to be several persons of this name under Si. Under Ae we find Rīš-Šamaš as father of Lamassāni, Ili-iddinam, Ṣilli-Šamaš, Bunene-nāṣir, Ipiq-Annunītum and Sîn-iribam and there is no evidence that not more than one Rīš-Šamaš is involved here. One of these Ae references, a letter (AbB 2, 66), mentions Rīš-Šamaš as a judge. This attestation refers to him as the father of a Sîn-irībam and unnamed other sons. Our Rīš-Šamaš may be this one, or not. 50.  Impressed on Dekiere 1991 (BM 96956 and 96980 both Ae e) and MHET 471 (Ae o+1). 51.  Attested eight times, from Ae (Di 693, MHET 471, Dekiere 1991 (BM 96956 and 96980 both Ae e) and BE 6/1, 68) to Ad 4 (BE 6/1, 119). In four of these he has the title. 52.  Impressed on BE 6/1, 88 (Ad 29). 53.  Attested twice: BE 6/1, 88 (Ad 29) and Di 2094 (Ad year broken). The title is added on the former only. 54.  Attested ten times from CT 45, 119 (Ae) to TLOB 19 (Ad 21). As son of Sîn-iddinam he has the title di.kud in Ae, and in Ad 6. Among the ten references two have the father’s name, ten have the title but not the father’s name. This is not unproblematic because there is a contemporaneous Ibni-Adad, also a judge, but son of Nūr-Šamaš (a 42 CT 45, 55, s.d. must be Ae-Ad) but since he is attested from Ḫa 42 (VS 9, 74) without a title, we suppose that CT 45, 55, with patronymic and title was his last reference–he would then have had an active life of some 60 years. That is why we attribute the ten later references of an Ibni-Adad, judge, without a father’s name, to Ibni-Adad son of Sîn-iddinam who starts his career under Ae. 55.  Attested three times, from Aṣ 11 (CT 6, 6) to Sd 13 (TLOB 93). In both these texts he has the title, the third one is a letter (MHET I, 73) in which no title is mentioned. 56.  Impressed on Di 674 (Ad 20). 57.  Attested six times, from Ad 3 (BAP 19) to Ad 32 (Di 2129). He has the title from Ad 20 onwards. 58.  Seal Colbow 2002 n° 239.1. Impressed on the unpublished BM 78518 (Aṣ 4), Di 686 (Aṣ 4) and VS 13, 14 (Aṣ 8). 59.  Attested twenty times, from Ad 36 (BE 6/1, 87) to Aṣ 14 (OLA 21, 40). For this judge, see our contribution to a Festschrift soon to be published. 60.  Impressed on seven documents, from Aṣ 11 (CT 8, 3a and Di 1197) to 16 (BAP 107 and Van Lerberghe 1994: 159 sqq (CBS 1346)). In Aṣ 14 (OLA 21, 40) it is used by his brother Iddin-Ea (who sealed documents from Aṣ 4 to 8 with his own seal). 61.  Attested ten times, with patronymic but without the title, from Ad 33 (Di 2112) to Aṣ 9 (Rositani 42), then with the title and (not always) patronymic, from Aṣ 11 (MHET I, 104) to Aṣ 18 (Anbar 1975: 113 n° 3). We can be fairly sure these all refer to the same person since the only other judge Ipiq-Annunītum (son of Šamaš-bāni and son of-see our table) is attested at the beginning of Ad. 62.  He uses a first seal on four documents from Ad 34 (CT 8, 2a) to Aṣ 8 (VS 13, 14). His son Ipiqilīšu uses it once, on Di 1197 in Aṣ 11. His second seal is attested once, on CT, 32, dated Aṣ 17. 63.  Attested twenty-two times from Ad 28 (Di 1801) to Aṣ 17 (CT 2, 32). He has the title from Aṣ 3 onwards (with one exception) but no more in Aṣ 17. 64.  He uses the first seal of his father, attested once. 65.  Attested thirteen times, from Aṣ 11 (CT 8, 3a; MHET I, 4; Di 1197) to Aṣ 16 (BAP 107, Van Lerberghe 1994: 159 sqq (CBS 1346)).

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For the father of Šamaš-nāṣir di.kud in our table there are three possibilities. He is attested as son of: Šamaš-tillassu: Si 36 (without title) and Ae “h” (with), both sealed by him 66 Palê-Šamaš: Si 25 (with seal 67 but no title in the text), Ae, Ad 4 (with title)  68 Nanna-ibila-mansum: Ad 20 (with title) and 28 69

The last two are excluded because Šamaš-nāṣir’s son Ibni-Šamaš is attested from Ad 3 to 32 and in general overlaps between father and son are rare, a fortiori between a grandfather and his grandson. There is a Šamaš-tillassu attested as di.kud (in a group) in Ḫa 39. 70 He could even be Itti-Enlil-qinni’s son who is attested as merchant at the beginning of Si. 71 This would mean he first was di.kud and then dam.gàr. Itti-Enlil-qinni himself was overseer of the merchants under Ḫa. 72 One family can be tentatively reconstructed over four generations in which all are di.kud (except the great-great-grandfather Aja-eni as far as we know).   73  74  75  76  77

Judges: From the Great-Grandfather Onwards Great-grandfather Awīl-Šamaš son of Aja-eni Si 30–36  73

Grandfather

Father

Son

Ilšu-bāni Ae-Ad 6 74 Ilum-bāni Ae “h” 75 Sîn-nādin-šumi Ae-Ad 4 76

66.  CT 47, 69 and Di 1173. 67.  Attested once, on OLA 21, 17, dated Si 25. 68.  Attested six times, from Si 25 (OLA 21, 17) to Ad 4 (BE 6/1, 119; MHET 482). He has the title in Ad 4 (BE 6/1, 119 and MHET 656 (‘post Ae’). 69.  Di 690 and Di 718. 70.  TCL I, 104. 71.  CT 47, 56: Si 4 and CT 47, 67: Si[. . .]. 72.  CT 47, 20: Ḫa 11 and MHET 197: Ḫa 17. 73.  He is attested twice, both as son of Aja-eni, both with the title di.kud: BE 6/2, 66 (Si 30) and MHET 882 (Si 36). He is not to be confused with two later judges of the same name: the son of IddinIlabrat (CT 6, 6: Aṣ 11) and the son of Šamaš-nāṣir (VS 13, 93: Sd). 74.  The only two certain attestations we have of this judge, as son of Awīl-Šamaš, are CT 45, 55 (Ae-Ad) and CT 45, 46 (Ad 6). There are a number of other attestations of a judge with this name under Ḫa and under Ad. The former cannot reasonably be the same as ours, but the latter pose a problem since there is a son of Lu-Iškura (BDHP 29: Ad 1) and a son of Ilšu-ibni (TLOB Table 1: Aṣ 9) to which they could also belong. 75.  Attested only once in CT 47, 69 (with title and patronymic). 76.  He is attested six times under Ae and once under Ad (BE 6/1, 119: Ad 4). Because there is another judge of this name, also attested under Ae (CT 45, 119) but son of an Ilšu-bāni, the attestation of a Sîn-nādin-šumi judge without patronymic in Ad 3 (VS 13, 1) cannot be securely attributed. 77.  Attested with father’s name and title only once (CT 47, 71: Ae “q”). There are four more attestations of a judge of this name but without patronymic, in Aṣ 13 (OLA, 21, 61), Aṣ 17+a (OLA 21, 67), Aṣ (VS 13, 15 year name broken) and Sd 17 (BE 6/1, 116). In view of the chronological distance these probably refer to another judge Šamaš-bāni and indeed there is one, the son of Ilšu-abūšu (TLOB 93: Sd 13).

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Judges: From the Great-Grandfather Onwards Great-grandfather

Grandfather

Father

Šamaš-bāni Ae 77

Ilšu-ibni (S)78 Ae-Ad 26  79

Son Awīl-Sîn Aṣ 6–17+d 80 Ilšu-bāni Aṣ 9 81

Ipiq-Annunītum Ae-Ad 9 82

Iddin-Ištar (S)83 Aṣ 8-Sd 17 Marduk-mušallim (S)84 Aṣ 11 Nanna-mansum (S)85 Aṣ 3–1686

  78  79  80  81  82  83  84  85  86

Finally, we apparently have a number of brothers who are judges:  87  88

Judges: Brothers Fathers Būr-Sîn

Judges

Date

Awīlum

Sle 87

Nūr-ilīšū

Sa 13 88

78.  Impressed on VS 13, 50 (Ad 23). 79.  This Ilšu-ibni is not to be confused with his namesake, son of Erra-a[. . .], attested from Ad 5 to Ad 27 as ugula dam.gàr (see further). This homonymity may be the reason for the unique addition of the title di.kud to the seal legend of the Ilšu-ibni son of Šamaš-bāni. He is attested only once with the title and the patronymic (MHET 479: Ad) but since no other judge with this patronymic is known we can attribute the seven other attestations with the title but without the patronymic to the same person, and these go from Ae “aa” (BE 6/1, 76) to Ad 26 (VS 29, 92). We can even add his mention as a father in BM 97025 (Aṣ 1) (Veenhof) 1989: 184) which gives us the names of his children: Inuḫ-Esagila, Sabitum, Sîn-nādin-šumi, Iddin-Ištar and Ipiq-Annunītum. 80.  He is first attested with patronymic but without the title in Ae “u” (BE 6/2, 91) and Aṣ 6 (MHET 898) then with both in Aṣ 17+d (CT 48, 98). The other judge Awīl-Sîn (son of Sîn-bl-aplim) was mentioned above, as were the four ‘floating’ references to a judge of that name but without patronymic. 81.  For our remarks on the other judges named Ilšu-ibni, see above in our table under Ilšu-ibni son of Awīl-Šamaš. The present Ilšu-ibni is attested three times with patronymic and title: TLOB Table 1 (Aṣ 9), Di 879 (date lost) and AbB 11, 108 (s.d.). 82. Attested once without title but with patronymic: Di 2033 (Ae “h”) and four times with both: MHET 888 (Ae “n”), CT 47, 71 (Ae “q”), CT 33, 27 (Ad 4) and CT 45, 47 (Ad 9). We must mention another possibility here. Around the same time there is an Ipiq-Annunītum, judge, son of Rīš-Šamaš, dated Ae (TIM 7, 53 year name broken). 83.  He is attested with patronymic and title in one text (CT 6, 6: Aṣ 11). One text gives the father’s name only (BE 6/1, 108: Aṣ 8). Three texts have the title only: BE 6/1, 105: Aṣ 18; VS 29, 15: Aṣ year name broken and BE 6/1, 116: Sd 17). Since no other judge Iddin-Ištar is known these three references can be added to his. His seal is impressed on VS 29, 15, BE 6/1, 105 and CT 6, 6. 84.  Impressed on CT 6, 6 (Aṣ 11). 85.  Impressed on twelve tablets, from Aṣ 4 (Di 686) to Aṣ 16 (MHET 546 and BAP 107). 86.  Attested eighteen times, from Ad (CT 45, 54 no year name) to Aṣ 16 (BAP 107, Van Lerberghe 1994: 159 sqq (CBS 1346), MHET 546). All references have the title, only nine also have the patronymic but since there is no other known judge Nanna-mansum all of these references must be his. 87.  Attested once: CT 48, 30: Sle with the title di.kud é dutu. 88.  One attestation without a title but in a list of persons preceded by: dīn é dutu ina Ebabbarim (CT 48, 14: Sa 13). In Edubba 7, 75/76 (AS 2 no title) he loses a lawsuit.

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Judges: Brothers Fathers Ilšu-bāni 89 Nūr-Šamaš Sîn-māgir

Judges

Date

Sîn-ḫāzir

Si 24–30 90

Sîn-nādin-šumi

Si 28-Ae91

Sîn-iddinam (S)92

Si 3693

Ibni-Adad

Ad94

Sîn-bēl-aplim (S)95

Si 1-Ae96

Iddin-Šamaš (S)

Si 3098

Ibbi-Šamaš (2S)99

Si 8–36100

97

  89  90  91  92  93  94  95  96  97  98  99 100

Uncle and Nephew Although this is not a transmission from father to son, the judge Awīl-Sîn 101 should be mentioned. He is the son of Sîn-bēl-aplim who is the brother of Utu-šumundib, judge from Ad 29 to Aṣ 1 and then overseer of the merchants (see above). In this case uncle and nephew are judges.

89.  There also is a di.kud Šumma-ilum son of an Ilšu-bāni but he is attested in Ad 16 (TLOB 17) Ad 19 (TLOB 18) and Ad 32 (VS 29, 76), always with the title but only once (VS 29, 76) with his father’s name: Ilšu-bāni. In the absence of another Šumma-ilum judge, we consider the two other attestations to refer to the same person. In view of his much later dating than Sîn-ḫāzir and Sîn-nādin-šumi we suppose that Šumma-ilum must be the son of another Ilšu-bāni. 90.  Attested five times, from Si 24 (Di 2099) to Si 30 (BE 6/2, 86 and Di 2092). He is part of a group characterised as di.kud.meš in BE 6/2, 86. He only has the title individually in a text mentioning his son Iddin-Ilabrat (CT 45, 55: Ad). 91.  Attested three times, from Si 28 (Di 1966) to Ae (CT 45, 119). The title appears only in the Ae reference. There is a person of that name and patronymic leasing out a field in Aṣ 10 (BA 5, 34) who cannot chronologically be our Sîn-nādin-šumi. 92.  His seal is only attested as used by his son Ibni-Adad (impressed on five tablets from Ad 6: CT 45, 46 to Aṣ 2: BBVOT 1, 116 and Di 1165). 93.  Attested once, in Si 36 (MHET 882) with title and patronymic. Not to be confused with another Sîn-iddinam son of a Nūr-Šamaš attested from Sle (BE 6/1, 8) to Sm (YOS 14, 163). 94.  Attested once: CT 45, 55 (Ad) with title and patronymic. 95.  Impressed on Di 700 (Si 21), OLA 21, 96 (Si 22) and Di 1173 (Si 36). 96.  He is attested twelve times as the son of Sîn-māgir, from Si 1 (CT 47, 52) to Si 36 (Di 1173). In Si 29 (CT 6, 20a) he has the title too and in Ae “b” (CT 4, 15b) he has the title but not the father’s name. 97.  Impressed on BE 6/2, 86 (Si 30). 98.  Attested once only: BE 6/2, 86 (Si 30). 99.  He has two seals. One of them is attested only once, used by his son Tarī buša (CT 8, 30c: Ad 5). The other is attested once too but as used by himself (OLA 21, 17: Si 25). 100.  Attested six times, from Si 8 (Di 2139) to Si 36 (MHET 882). All references have the patronymic but the title is mentioned only on MHET 882 (Si 36). 101.  Attested twice: in Aṣ 11 (CT 6, 6) and Sd 4 (CT 8, 23b) with the title and patronymic. His seal is impressed on CT 6, 6.There is another judge of this name, son of Ilšu-ibnī(šu) attested in the same period, from Ae ‘”u” (BE 6/2, 91 no title) to Aṣ 17+d (CT 48, 98). This makes the attribution of the four references to a judge Awīl-Sîn without a patronymic (BDHP 75 and VS 29, 15 (both Aṣ year name broken), TLOB 31 (Aṣ 17+d) and TLOB 33 (Sd 3) problematic.

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3.  The Military: The Captain (ugula gidri / rabûm ša ḫaṭṭātim) and Some Others Together with the captains we also have taken a quick look at much less attested military titles: the sergeant and the private. Attestation in these cases was inversely proportional to the real number of people involved as most of the lower ranks never reached the threshold of textual attestation. We start by listing the titles, giving the number of attestations, the number of different persons (≠), the number of family relations and finally the number of seals.

The Military: Titles Attest.

≠

Fam.

Seals

Captain

ugula gidri rabûm ša ḫaṭṭātim

174

55

3

5

Sergeant

nu.bandà laputtûm

31

23

3

-

Private

aga.uš redûm

42

22

-

-

Since military officers of all ranks received fields for their sustenance (ṣibtum)(De Graef 2002a: 143 sq.), not as property but in usufruct, there was some motivation to keep this in the family by having at least one of the sons follow in the military footsteps of his father since in this case the family could retain the field. This is not always perceptible to us because the military were not necessarily permanent residents in a place (Lafont 1998): when troops were moved the individuals disappear from our local corpus. The captains are numerous, as could be expected, and, according to M. Stol (2004: 810) belong to the local families. The captain Awīl-Adad is mentioned in CT 48, 77 (date lost) and there is an Ibni-Adad captain, 102 son of Awīl-Adad attested from Ad 37 to Aṣ 11, who might be his son. Ina-palêšu captain, son of Ilšu-nāṣir is attested from Ad 31 to Aṣ 3 103. One of the captains named Ilšu-ibni is the son of an Ina-palešu (Aṣ 12–15) (De Graef 2002b, 63 sq.) There is a captain Warad-Ulmaššītum mentioned in a letter 104 to be dated under Aṣ and there is a captain Warad-Marduk 105 who is the son of a Warad-Ulmaššītum. 106 The sergeants are less well attested and they often appear in undated lists, which does not make identification easier. There are two cases of possible fathers and sons. There is a sergeant Sijatum 107 and a sergeant Ilšu-bāni, son of a Sijatum 108 102.  Attested twelve times, from Ad 37 (YOS 13, 4) to Aṣ 11 (CT 8, 19b), four times with the patronymic Awīl-Adad. 103.  Attested seven times, in Ad 31 (MHET 495), Ad 34 (MHET 894–no title), Ad 35 (Di 1588-no patronymic) Ad 37 (Di 1175 and 1310) and Aṣ 3 (Di 1339 and 2038-no patronymic). 104.  AbB 12, 3. 105.  Again, homonymy plagues our search. There are at least three contemporaneous captains with this name: a son of Warad-Kubi (Di 881: Aṣ 11), a son of Šamaš-andulli (Di 1106: Ad x) and the son of Warad-Ulmaššītum. 106.  BAP 107: Aṣ 16. 107.  AbB 2, 175, s.d. 108.  TEBA 70C, s.d. and TLOB 50, Sd 13.

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M. Tanret

(TEBA 70C, s.d.). Another possible case is that of a sergeant Tarībum (VS 9, 217, s.d.) and a sergeant Warad-Sîn, son of a Tarībum (MHET 631, s.d. post Sa). A third one is a sergeant Sîn-iddinam attested under Sd and a sergeant Warad-Sîn, son of a Sîn-iddinam in a text without a date. 109 Especially the last one is doubtful in view of the very widespread name Sîn-iddinam. Privates are most often referred to without a name (19 times out of 42 attestations in all) and when a name is given this occurs only once. None of these two last categories has a seal with a legend. This shows a clear division between the higher ranks having seals with legends and the lower ones who do not.

4.  Overseers of the Nadītum Priestesses In total there are 159 attestations and 13 seals with legends (6 belonging to the family) of overseers of the nadiātum-priestesses in our corpus. They represent 28 different persons of which Sîn-bāni from the Būr-Sîn family is the best attested, appearing in 28 documents. Only one family can be reconstructed, of which the eldest attested member is a Būr-Sîn. Under Immerum and Sle we find his son, the “singer” (nar), Imlik-Sîn, 110 whose son, Būr-Nunu, will be the first known overseer of the nadītum priestesses, a tradition initiated under Sle and continued over three generations until the latter part of the reign of Ḫammu-rabi, including daughters as well as sons, at least until the reign of Sîn-muballiṭ (see Tanret 2009: 86–89 for all references; see fig. 1). All of these people use seals with legends, some have two, one (Sîn-bāni) even three. The two seals of Ilabrat-bāni are used by his son Ninšubur-mansum, the second one also by his grandson Būr-Nunu. Apart from this, no further father and son overseers can be identified.

5.  The Fatteners (lú ku7 /marû) This occupation is mainly attested in the Ur-Utu archive where it stands for the longer version: ‘lú ku7 é nakkamtum Sippar-Amnānum’, animal fattener of the storehouse of Sippar-Amnānum. It is attested 146 times. Seven names are broken and the rest can be attributes to 28 different persons. The fatteners most often appear in groups, receiving barley for the animals. Until the beginning of Aṣ these groups are constituted of five persons, later this is reduced to three or exceptionally two. An advantage for our purpose is that very often the patronymics are added because the title is given after the group as “lú ku7. meš. . ..” We also have seals with legends belonging to several fatteners. The most remarkable is that of Awīl-Sîn. It has a four line legend with his name, his title lú ku7 which is unique in a seal legend, his father’s name (Šamaš-x[. . .], certainly not Puzur-Šamaš as read by Colbow (2004) and a servant line dedicated to Ammi-​ ditana. We have numerous documents on which this seal is impressed, always used 109.  CT 6, 15–18, s.d. 110.  CT 4, 50a.

The Transmission of Titles and Offices within the Family

537

Fig. 1.  Overseers of the nadiātum: the Būr-Sîn family.

by his son Warad-Kubi. The interesting point is that, although we have no text in which Awīl-Sîn is active, we now know he was a fattener too. The seal of Ibni-Amurrum, son of Šamaš-nāṣir is impressed on 63 documents. These date from Ad 14 to Aṣ 8. He uses it himself from Ad 14 to Aṣ 2/7/1 111 and from Aṣ 2/9/9 112 onwards it is used by his son Tarībum. Tarībum later has a seal of his own, impressed on four documents, all in Aṣ 12. Remarkably, in one instance his seal is used by his brother, Arrabu. Another fattener’s seal is that of Sîn-rēmēni, brother of Ibni-Amurrum. This was found on one document only: Di 1509 (Aṣ 9). A fourth one is that of Ibni-Adad, son of Ninurta-nīšu. A fifth one is that of Warad-Kubi, son of Awīl-Sîn, attested on documents from Ad 14 to Aṣ 13. 113 A last one is that of Warad-Šamaš, son of Sîn-iddinam, impressed on TLOB 93 (Sd 13). The title is never mentioned in any of the the seal legends. Four small families can be reconstructed (see already Colbow 2004 with full discussion of the seals): 111.  From Di 1495 to Di 342. 112.  Di 488. 113.  From Di 1495 to Di 912.

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M. Tanret

Fig. 2.  The Šamaš-nāṣir family

1.  The Šamaš-nāṣir Family (all are fatteners except Šamaš-nāṣir):

 

Ibni-Amurrum (S)

Šamaš-nāṣir

Ad 14–Aṣ 2 114

Sîn-rēmēni (S)

′′

Ad 37–Aṣ 9 115

Arrabu

Ibni-Amurrum

Aṣ 10–12 116

Tarībum (S)

′′

Aṣ 2–13 117

Bāš-ilum

Sîn-rēmēni

Aṣ 10–14 118

 114  115  116  117  118

2.  The Awīl-Sîn Family (all are fatteners except Awīl-Sîn): Warad-Ulmaššītum

Awīl-Sîn (S)

Ad 14-Aṣ 16 119

Warad-Kubi (S)

′′

Ad 14-Aṣ 16 120

  119  120

There is a chronological problem here with a Sîn-išmeanni, fattener and son of Warad-Ulmaššītum. He is attested three times with the title 121 for which we only have one date: Ad 35. This is in the middle of Warad-Ulmaššītum’s career as fattener which makes it difficult to link both. He must be the son of another Warad-Ulmaššītum.

114.  From Ad 14 (Di 1495) to Aṣ 2 (Di 342, 489 and 550). 115.  From Ad 37 (Di 1461) to Aṣ 9 (Di 978). 116.  From Aṣ 10 (Di 1537) to Aṣ 12 (Di 2193). 117.  From Aṣ 2 (Di 488) to Aṣ 13 (Di 902). 118.  From Aṣ 10 (Di 1537: 1479, 1515) to Aṣ 14 (Di 1735). 119.  From Ad 14 (Di 1311: 1495) to Aṣ 16 (Di 1516). 120.  From Ad 14 (Di 1311: 1495) to Aṣ 16 (Di 1516). 121.  Di 547 (s.d.); Di 1266 (Ad xx) and Di 1410 (Ad 35).

The Transmission of Titles and Offices within the Family

Fig. 3.  The Awīl-Sîn family.

Fig. 4.  The Iddin-Adad family.

Fig. 5.  The Iddin-Bunene family.

3.  The Iddin-Adad Family (all are fatteners except Iddin-Adad) Ilšu-ibni

Iddin-Adad

Ad 14–26 122

Mār-Amma

“

Ad 21–30 123

  122  123

4.  The Iddin-Bunene Family (all are fatteners, except Iddin-Bunene)

 

Sîn-iddinam

Iddin-Bunene

Aṣ 17+e 124

Warad-Šamaš (S)

Sîn-iddinam

Sd 13 125

 124  125

122.  From Ad 14 (Di 1311) to Ad 26 (Di 1531). 123.  From Ad 21 (Di 1540) to Ad 30 (Di 1343). 124.  CT 6, 23b. 125.  TLOB 93.

539

540

M. Tanret

The first two families were clearly heading the fatteners: all groups start with Ibni-Amurrum (Šamaš-nāṣir family) until the beginning of Aṣ, from then on Warad-Kubi (Puzur-[. . .] family) always takes the lead. In our corpus, we have brothers (and sometimes their sons) who would often work together as fatteners but, with the exception of Awīl-Sîn, there is no indication that the fathers (Šamaš-nāṣir, Iddin-Adad or Iddin-Bunene) also were fatteners. It would be most interesting to find out whether some of our trees can be joined into a larger family, but there is no indication in this sense as yet. As far as our documentation goes, the group of fatteners started somewhere in the middle of the reign of Ammiditana, the earliest date being Ad 14 (Ibni-Amurrum, Warad-Ulmaššītum, Warad-Kubi, Ilšu-ibni), but this may well be a biased view since all of our references are documents from the archive of the gala.maḫs and they start paying their taxes to the fatteners of the storehouse. . . in Ad 14. In fact we know better. Thanks to the fact that Warad-Kubi used the seal of his father Awīl-Sîn, we know that the father was a fattener too. This may have been the case for the other fathers too but, because of the limitations of our corpus we cannot ascertain this yet.

6.  The Overseer of the Merchants (ugula dam.gàr /wakil tamkārim) Attest

≠

Fam.

Title in text

Seals with title

122

32

5

8

7

Out of the 122 attestations of persons with this title, 12 give the title without a name, leaving 110 named attestations, in five of which the names are partial or broken, the rest can be attributed to 32 different persons. The seals add some information to this. We have eight seals mentioning the title. One of these adds an overseer of the merchants not attested in the texts: Sîn-iddinam, son of Šamaš-bāni, servant of Abi-ešuḫ. Four of them provide us with father’s names which were not given in the texts: Šamaš-bāni is the son of Awīl-[. . .], Šamaš-lu-zērum is the son of Iddin-[. . .], Ipiq-ilīšu is the son of Qīš-Nunu and Ibni-Adad is the son of Kubburum. With all of this information it is a little disappointing that we only have two clear cases of father and son being an overseer. Ipiq-ilīšu occupies this function from Ḫa (year name broken) 126 to 24 127 and his son Sîn-iddinam is attested as such from Si 34. 128 As remarked by D. Charpin (1990 referring to earlier proposals in this sense) the successor of the latter, Marduk-nāṣir could be his son: he is attested in Ae “v.” 129

126.  MHET 333. The name is broken and only [. . .]-ilīšu ugula dam.gàr remains. This cannot be anyone one else than Ipiq-ilīšu. 127.  BE 6/1, 61. He is also mentioned in CT 6, 20a, dated Si 29 but only as someone from whom Ikūn-pī-Sîn had bought a field in the past. 128.  BM 80859 (unpublished, the year name seems indeed to be Si 34). 129. TCL I, 148. There are four attestations of a Marduk-nāṣir without title but son of a Sîniddinam: Ae “p” (BBVOT 1, 108), Aṣ 11 (CT 6, 6), Aṣ 18 (CT 48, 92) and CT 45, 55 with a broken date.

The Transmission of Titles and Offices within the Family

541

Ilšu-ibni is overseer from Ad 5 130 to Ad 27 131 and his son Utu-šumundib has the title from Aṣ 4 132 to Aṣ 17. 133 Furthermore, in this last case, the son starts by using the father’s seal (without a title); the father’s seal with a title is only attested as used by himself. 134 In both these cases one might at first sight suppose that the son succeeded the father and that the gap in time between the two is only due to our fragmentary documentation. In the case of Sîn-iddinam, son of Ipiq-ilīšu this probably was the case, 135 the time gap is only four years and we have no other overseer attested for these dates who could fill the gap. We can see that our Sîn-iddinam was already active in Si 10 136 and 24 137 but without the title. This means that he must have been middle-aged at least when he ‘inherited’ the function, which confirms the remark by K. Veenhof that this function “must have been reserved for persons that had proved their administrative skills in other capacities and consequently presumably were middle-aged” (1989: 36). The case of Utu-šumundib is well known and was also discussed by K. Veenhof (1989: 36). He appears in our documentation first as a judge, from Ad 24 138 to Aṣ 2, 139 then as an overseer of merchants, from Aṣ 4 to Aṣ 17 as stated above. Since his father is attested for the last time as overseer in Ad 27, there is a gap of eleven years between them. Again, this must be due to our scanty corpus. No other overseer is attested in between them. 140 In any case, Utu-šumundib too must have been going on in age, becoming overseer eighteen years after his first attestation as judge. 141 Another confirmation that these overseers participated actively in their society before they occupied this function is that we know that two of them used a seal without the title before they occupied the function. This is the case of Ilšu-ibni and his son Utu-šumundib. The father owned a seal without title which is only attested as used by his son 142 to be replaced with another one with his title, which he used in Ad 5 143 and Aṣ 2. 144 Utu-šumunidib started out by using his father’s seal without a title and, if he ever had one with his title of overseer, we have no impression of it. On the contrary, he may not have had one, since, towards the end of his career, we 130.  CT 8, 30c. 131. Rositani 33. He is attested later too, but only as a father, no active participant in the text. 132.  MHET 506. 133.  Rositani 70, year uncertain. 134.  Ilšu-ibnī[šu?]/ugula dam.gàr/dumu Erra-a[. . .]/ìr Ammiditana[ke4] on CT 8, 30c (Ad 5), CT 45, 46 (Ad 6), MHET 487 (Ad 7), CT 8, 8b (Ad 15), CT 48, 102 (Ad 23), Di 936 (Aṣ year broken) and CT 45, 55 (date lost, probably Ad). 135.  As already remarked by K. Veenhof (1989: 35). He adds there that his seal was impressed on the unpublished case of BM 97019 (Si 36). 136.  BE 6/2, 82. 137.  CT 48, 60 and BE 6/1, 61b. 138.  CT 8, 36b. 139.  CT 6, 35c. 140.  There is another overseer, Ibni-Adad, who occupies this function from Aṣ 1 (MHET 498, date on the first day of the first month of that year: another appointment starting on such a date is that of Inanna-mansum galamaḫ of Annunītum) to Aṣ 14 (BAP 42) but, as Charpin (1990/9) has shown, Utušumundib was the overseer in Sippar-Jaḫrūrum, whereas Ibni-Adad was the one from Sippar-Amnānum. 141.  This argument gains even more weight if the office of judge was only taken up at a later age too, as we argued in a contribution to a Festschrift that is not yet published. 142.  On CT 8, 36b, Ad 24. 143.  CT 8, 30c. 144.  Di 936.

542

M. Tanret

find his byscript on a seal without a legend (Colbow 2002: 389.3 impressed on CT 4, 23b dated Aṣ 15). Iškur-mansum son of Adad-šarrum, uses a seal without a title on VS 13, 15. This text is dated under Aṣ but unfortunately the year name is broken. He uses another seal, with title, in Aṣ 11 145 and Aṣ 18. 146 Since in VS 13, 15 his title is not mentioned either, in contrast with the two other texts, it seems fair to assume that he first owned a seal without title and when he became overseer he had a second seal made. Finally, we have a seal of the Ipiq-ilīšu, son of Qīš-Nunu (and father of Sîn-iddinam) mentioned above. The legend strewn between the figures reads: Ipiq-ilīšu/ dumu Qīš-Nunu/dam.gàr/ìr [. . .]. He uses it in Si 21 147 and Si 22. 148 This would be a unique attestation of the son of a merchant becoming the overseer of the merchants.

7.  The “Barber” (šu.i) This occupation is attested 112 times. Twice the name is broken and in five instances no name is given. The other references concern 39 different persons. In six cases the name of the father is added. This allows us to propose one sequence. Ibni-Marduk is attested as šu.i, son of Ištar-išmēšu in Ad 6 149 and an Ilšu-ibni, šu.i, son of Ibni-Marduk is attested in Ad 37. 150 They could be father and son, both šu.i. This title is never written in a seal legend. We have the seal of one šu.i: Qurdi-Ištar, son of Ipqu-Šala, not used by himself but by Lu-Iškura son of Utu-mansum in Si 10. 151

8.  The Military: The General (ugula MAR.TU/ rabi-Amurrim)

General

ugula MAR.TU rabi Amurrî

Attest.

≠

Fam.

Seals

109

41 152

1

2

  152

R. Harris (1975: 94) had already supposed that generals were not local people from Sippar and this is confirmed by M. Stol (2004: 805–6). As a consequence we did not expect to find family relations for them in our Sippar documentation. There is, however, an Ilšu-bāni, general, mentioned in a text with broken date but certainly written under Ad 153 and we have a Tarībatum with the same title, son of an Ilšubāni mentioned twice: in Aṣ 17 154 without patronymic and Sd 17 155 with patronymic. They could be father and son. 145.  CT 6, 6. 146.  BE6/1, 105. 147.  Di 700. 148.  OLA 21, 96. 149.  BDHP 50. 150.  Di 1073. 151.  TCL I, 131. 152.  Five names are broken and ten generals are mentioned without a name. 153.  Di 1099. 154.  OLA 21, 67. 155.  BE 6/1, 112.

The Transmission of Titles and Offices within the Family

543

The only known seals of generals are those of Sîn-tajjar, son of Nuḫme-el 156 and of Mār-ešrê 157 son of Nabi-Šamaš. They do not mention the title. There is a gal.ukken.na Sîn-tajjar, mentioned in Ad 7 158. His seal impressed on this tablet shows that he is the former general, son of Nuḫme-el. A rare instance in which we can witness a promotion or career change.

9.  The Diviner (máš.šu.gíd.gíd bārû) Attestations

≠

Family

Seals

102

24

5

10

The title is well attested and we count 24 different, named diviners. Two of them are particularly well attested: Ibni-Šamaš, son of Abu-waqar, attested 27 times from Ad 31 to Aṣ 13 and Sîn-nādin-šumi, son of Šamaš-bāni attested 22 times form Aṣ 10 to Sd 13. There is a diviner Ibni-Adad, son of Iškur-mansum attested in Ad 29 and Aṣ 10 159 who might have a brother Sîn-bēl-aplim, son of Ibni-Adad attested in Sd 14. 160 Another brother might be the diviner Ina-palešu, son of Ibni-Adad, attested in Ad 29. 161 Finally, there is an attestation of a diviner Iškur-mansum who could be their father. 162 This results in the following very hypothetical family tree:

Fig. 6.  A family of diviners?

We have the impressions of ten seals of diviners, out of which eight certainly have the title. The seal of Nanna-mansum is found on an undated but early (Immerum/Sabium) tablet published by D.O. Edard (TIM 7, 21) on which it was used by his son Imgur-Sîn who was a witness. The text at that point reads: Imgur-Sîn dumu [Nanna]-mansum [máš.šu.gíd].⸢gíd⸣ (Rev. 18 to UE 20), so probably the son inherited his father’s seal but not his title. . . 156.  Rolled on BM 96956, Ae e/5/25, BM 96980, Ae 5/5/25 both published by E. Woestenburg in NABU 1991, on CT 45, 56, Ae x/10/1, and on OLA 21, 22, Ad 7/4/3 where he has become gal.ukken.na. 157.  Rolled on TLOB 63, Aṣ 5/-/24, CT 8, 3a, Aṣ 11/6a/23, Di 771, Aṣ 13/[. . .], Van Lerberghe 1994: 159 sqq (CBS 1346), Aṣ 16/1/30 and Di 1378, Aṣ [. . .]/12/1.. 158.  OLA 21, 22. 159.  Ad 29: MHET 494; Aṣ 10: Di 1026. 160.  MHET 561. 161. Rositani 45. 162.  Although he is only mentioned in a text dated Aṣ 18 (BE 6/1, 105) he must be dated earlier: his name is given as the father of unnamed sons who had, in the past, sold a house.

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M. Tanret

10.  The Merchants (dam.gàr / tamkārum)

merchant

dam.gàr tamkārum

Attest

≠

Fam.

Title in text

Seals with title

87

61

4

27

27

The situation is more complex here because the title of merchant (dam.gàr) is only rarely added to the name of a person in our texts. This is done for 27 persons only. Seals can be of help here too and we have 27 seals containing the title dam.gàr. These numbers do not imply that every named dam.gàr was the owner of one of these seals. In fact quite the opposite is true: only one person mentioned in the texts as dam.gàr has a seal, Nunu-ereš, son of Aḫum-ṭābum. 163 Other than that none of the two groups correspond, which means that through the mention of the title in the text and in the seal inscription we can identify 53 merchants. The matter is still more complex because the seals do not always mention the title after the name of the seal owner but often after that of their father. In the latter cases we must conclude that the father was a merchant. It is given 16 times after the name of the seal owner, 10 times after the name of the owner’s father and on one seal impression this cannot be made out anymore. The seals have more to tell. In a number of cases the seal of a (son of a) dam.gàr is used by his son or even his grandson. Whether this means that this son (or grandson) also is a merchant is not easy to determine but in a number of cases this can be assumed. On this basis we can reconstruct the family of Ṭâb-ilīšu over four generations, most of them and maybe all merchants 164. We know that Ṭāb-ilīšu was a merchant because this was mentioned in the legend of his son’s seal 165. His son Abum-waqar is never mentioned as a merchant, neither in the texts nor on his own seal. His seal legend gives the title but after the father’s name. He clearly preferred to stress the tradition he was part of. He may have been a merchant, following this tradition, but we cannot prove this. His son Ilšu-nāṣir has a seal 166 with a legend giving the title after his name and so does his grandson Nūr-Šaḫan 167, so there is no doubt for these two. There are two other possible successions. Fig. 7.  (part of) The first one is Adad-nāṣir, dam.gàr according to his seal 168, the Ṭāb-ilīšu son of Iškur-mansum, attested in Si 15 169 and this could be the family: probably all are dam.gàr. Iškur-mansum, merchant, attested in Ḫa 36. 170 163.  On MHET 77 (AS 7) in the text with patronymic and in the legend of his seal impressed on this document, with title and patronymic. 164.  Leaving aside brothers in generations 3 and 4. 165.  Impressed on MHET 54 (AS) used by Abum-waqar’s son Šamaš-nūr-mātim and CT 47, 27 (Ḫa 4) used by his grandson Nūr-Šaḫan. 166.  On CT 48 n° 8 (Ḫa 18) and MHET 135 (Ḫa no year name), used by himself. 167.  On Di 678 (Ḫa 8). Used once, by his son Šarrum-Šamaš. 168.  On BE 6/1, 84. 169.  BE 6/1, 84 completed by Wilcke 1973: 58–59. 170.  Di 2172

The Transmission of Titles and Offices within the Family

545

Iddin-Adad, father of Sîn-ennam is dam.gàr according to a text and to the seal of his son on this text dated Bti. There is a Nanna-mansum, son of a Sîn-ennam who is merchant according to his seal (but, to be fair the father is ‘lú Bābil on the seal). This could be another example of a grandfather and a grandson being merchants. In view of the fact that even for the ones that have the title in some texts, there are other texts where they do not have it, the presence of the title cannot be an absolute criterion, as is shown by the example of Nunu-ereš above. In a forthcoming study, A. Verhulst will show that although the title may not be present, the occupation was more widespread and could involve several members of a family in successive generations.

11.  The Shepherd (sipa) There are 83 attestations of this occupation in our corpus. For six of them the name is broken and the remaining 77 belong to 55 different persons. For 19 of these a father’s name is given. Only two possible transmissions can be deduced. There is an Eṭerum sipa attested in Ad (year name broken) 171 and there is a sipa Warad-ilīšu, son of Eṭerum, attested in Ad 32 172 and Aṣ 14. 173 An Awīl-Sîn, son of Kubburum is sipa in Aṣ 1 174 and Aṣ 14. 175 A Sîn-mušallim sipa, son of an Awīl-Sîn is mentioned in Aṣ 11 176 and in an undated letter. 177 The overlap of three years, makes this last case less likely. There are no seals mentioning the title sipa in their legend, but we have five seals with legend of shepherds: that of Eulmaš-erībam son of Pirḫi-Amurrum impressed on Di 896 (Aṣ 13), that of Sîn-imguranni son of Šu-Amurrum, impressed on Di 937 (Aṣ 12) and Di 958 (Aṣ year name broken), that of Awīl-Sîn, son of Kubburum, impressed on eight tablets, from Ad 37 to Aṣ 14 178, that of Sîn-iddinam, son of Šamḫu (mentioned in TLOB 42: Aṣ 10) and that of Warad-ilīšu, son of Sîn-iqīšam, impressed on VS 13, 15 (Aṣ).

12.  The Doorkeepers (ì.du8) There are 80 attestations of persons with the title ì.du8 in our corpus, representing 31 different persons. At the outset, under the early Sippar kings and the first ones from Babylon, there is an Ilum-mušallim, doorkeeper of the gagûm. His son, Amurrum-bāni, inherits this title and occupies the office until the beginning of Sa. Under Sa there is a doorkeeper Bulālum, son of Akum, probably no relation. The next doorkeeper was Adad-rēmēni, son of Damu-galzu, “chariot driver” of the Šamaš temple and “court sweeper.” This family transmitted the title over three generations: Adad-rēmēni 171.  Di 1169. 172.  BAP 25. 173.  CT 8, 11a. 174.  Di 1650. 175.  Di 897, he is also mentioned in the letter mHET I, 72. 176.  Di 1619. 177.  AbB 7, 170. 178.  Di 1261 to Di 897.

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M. Tanret son of Damu-galzu is also is a “chariot driver” under AS 179 like his father was before him but he is also attested as a doorkeeper under AS. 180 His son Kalūmum is attested as doorkeeper only, from Sm 6 to 13 181 and his grandson is Eidimana-mansum, doorkeeper from Sm to Ḫa 37: 182 We could interpret this as a nice sequence, running from the earliest kings into the reign of Ḫammu-rabi, in which father and son from a first family (Ilum-mušallim) have the title, then somebody from another family (Bulālum) and finally three generations from the Damu-galzu family. This interpretation is made possible by the absence of year names on a number of these texts. The real picture seems to be somewhat more complex, since, under AS, at the same time as Adad-rēmēni, there is a well attested doorkeeper from still another family (son of Pala-Sîn) and under Sm the place is really getting crowded with no less than eight doorkeepers:

Fig. 8.  Doorkeepers: the Damu-galzu family.

Idadum son of Pala-Sîn 183 Sle-Sa-AS–Sm Adad-rēmēni, son of Damu-galzu Sm Šamaš-tajjar, son of Ana-qati-Šamaš-anaṭṭal Sm 6–13 Kalūmum, son of Adad-rēmēni Sm 6–13 Šamaš-tappê son of Šamaš-liṭṭul Sm 13 Sm–Ḫa 10 Sabium-abi Liburram, son of Ḫunnubum Sm 6–Ḫa 15 E-idim-ana-mansum, son of Kalūmum Sm–Ḫa 37

Under the reign of Ḫammu-rabi, there are 10 different doorkeepers. Three already attested earlier: Sabium-abi, Liburram and E-idim-ana-mansum and seven new ones: Aḫum-kīnum, Elali, Nannatum, Rīš-Šamaš, Sîn-aḫamiddinam, Uṣur-mê-Šamaš and Warassa. Under Samsu-iluna we find eight: Iškur-mansum, Erib-Sîn, Warad-ilīšu, Ibbi-Ilabrat, Ibni-Amurrum, Šamaš-lamassašu, Šamaš—ḫazir and a broken [.  .  .]-bāni. None are known from the reign of Abi-ešuḫ, only three from that of Ammi-ditana: Ibašši-ilum, Marduk-muballiṭ and Ipqu-Nabium, all three from the same text (BE 6/1, 90). Ina-palêšu can probably be added here 184. Under Ammi-ṣaduqa we find two: Etel-pī-Nabium and Bēlšunu. Under Samsu-ditana we have a remarkable “sukkal ì.du8”, Ibni-Adad. Even if we suppose that some may be consecutive, some clearly overlap. This can be interpreted in two ways. Either there were several doorkeepers at the same time or they held prebends, covering part of the time only. In this light it is interesting to observe that at the very beginning, Damu-galzu as well as his son Adad-rēmēni held two offices, after which the family settled for one only. If these are indeed prebends 179.  MHET 66. 180.  MHET 61. 181.  MHET 113 to BDHP 4. 182.  CT 8, 39a to CT 48, 65. 183.  There is only one doorkeeper Idadum, son of Pala-Sîn. He consecutively uses two seals with a legend but on neither of them he is a son of DU-x-Sîn, grandson of Pala-Sîn as is erroneously indicated in Harris 1975: 194 and note 216. For these seals and their legends, see Tanret &Suurmeijer 2011: 93–94. 184.  From MHET 702, date broken but must be Ad/Aṣ.

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it is probable they would be kept in the same family but apart from the two families above and the few possible father-son sequences below, not much evidence can be adduced to substantiate this. Other than the two families cited above, some father-son succession may be suggested. The doorkeeper Liburram, son of Ḫunnubum, is attested until Ḫa 15. 185 There is a Nannatum, son of a Liburram who is a doorkeeper in Ḫa 34. 186 In view of the name, the title and the chronological possibility, this must be the same Nannatum. The doorkeeper Idadum, son of Pala-Sîn is attested under Sm and there is an Inbuša (without title), son of an Idadum, attested under Ḫa. 187 There is a doorkeeper Adad-šarrum, 188 son of an Inbuša attested from Ḫa 26. 189 We have no proof that these are the same, nor any attestation of a doorkeeper Inbuša who would link the two known doorkeepers.

13.  The Goldsmith: kù.dím /kutimmu Attest.

≠

Fam.

Seals

80

34

2

-

The only family that can readily be identified is that of Adad-naṣir (Ae 190) and his two sons Ili-erībam (Ad 20-Aṣ 7 191) and Bēlšunu (Ad 37-Aṣ 7 192). They are also the best attested, with 28 attestations between them. Many goldsmiths are attested only once. The absence of seals with a legend does not help and is of course meaningful in itself: only certain titles are mentioned on seal legends, based on their social status and permanence.

14.  The Ur-Utu Family We cannot end this first overview without commenting on two previously studied families with a very strong tradition of transmission of offies: that of the Chief Dirge Singers of Sippar-Amnānum and that of the first sangas of Šamaš. The family of the Chief Dirge Singer Ur-Utu originated from Sippar-Jaḫrūrum and Ur-Utu’s father, Inanna-mnsum moved to Sippar-Amnānum in Ad 1. He did so because he acquired the title of Chief Dirge Singer (gala.maḫ), whereas at least three generations before him several members of his family had been Dirge Singers (gala). Since we have much of this family’s archives we are allowed a more detailed view of their involvement with these titles. 185.  MHET 178 and 180. 186.  CT 47, 44. 187.  TCL I, 196. 188.  Although the two texts in which he is attested (CT 45, 24–Ḫa 26 and Di 2131–Ḫa 37) do not mention his title, we know he is a doorkeeper from his seal impressed on Di 2131. 189.  CT 45, 24. 190.  BE 6/1, 73 and OLA 21, 19 (date lost). 191.  From Ad 20: Di 674 to Aṣ 7: Di 1431. 192.  From Ad 37: Di 1065 to Aṣ 7: Di 987.

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Fig. 9.  Dirge Singers and Chief Dirge Singers: the Ur-Inanna family dotted frames indicate holders of gala-prebends not mentioned with the title frames in continuous lines the ones with the title.

Although we cannot fully reconstruct the sequence, we learn that Ur-Inanna (two generations before Inanna-mansum) gave a dirge singer prebend of one month to his son Awīl-Eressa (Di 2035-Ae “m”), Sîn-erībam, Ur-Inanna and Marduk-nāṣir (father of Inanna-mansum) inherit a gala prebend of 22 ½ days: Ur-Inanna receives ten days, the two other ones each 6 ¼ days (Di 2099-Si 24). Another Ur-Inanna, son of Nanna-šalasud (who we cannot at present link to the family) gives, during his lifetime, ten days of gala prebend to the brothers Sîn-erībam and Manni-Šamaš. In return they give him two fields with a total area of 2 iku and 20 sar (which is 22 sar per day of prebend). What we witness here is that the prebends were inherited in which case they grew smaller and could even include quarters of days, but could also be acquired, in this case in exchange for fields, in order to enlarge them. An overview of the relevant part of the family with an indication of the holders of gala-prebends (in dotted rectangles) shows how very present these were in the family. Unfortunately, even in such a well-documented case we only get a glimpse of the extent of these prebends, as indicated above. Sealwise, only gala.maḫs have a seal with a legend mentioning their title, not one gala. Remarkably, in the texts, only very few members of this family are designated as gala. This is the case for three persons belonging to the same generation: Marduk-nāṣir, the father of Inanna-mansum, 193 193.  Di 1959, date lost.

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Ur-Inanna, brother of Marduk-nāṣir 194 and Pala-Adad from another branch of the family. 195 Could it be that these individuals assembled enough parts of prebends (through inheritance or exchange) to bear the title? A notable fact is that Inanna-mansum’s children are adopted. We know this because his wife is a qadištum-priestess who may not have children (Barberon 2012: 226–227). What is interesting for our purpose here is that the adoption does not in any way affect the transmission of the title. 196

15.  The Sangas of Šamaš and Aja 197 The most successful transmission of office in the whole Old Babylonian period is, beside that of the royal dynasty, the transmission within one family of the office of first sanga of Šamaš during nearly 300 years, over twelve generations. We can only guess how they managed to keep this position that long, it must have been a question of power of the Šamaš temple. It is even more striking when we observe that, in order to gain some access to this power, the royal dynasty, unable to penetrate the ranks of the first sangas, probably introduced the office of second sanga to be occupied by different families, some clearly linked to the Marduk temple and thus to the king. The succession of the first sangas is as follows:

Final Considerations In general, our harvest is very mixed. For most of the frequent occupations or offices we could only propose one or a few possible fathers and sons with the same title. Not surprisingly, the best attested occupations,

Fig. 10.  The first sangas of Šamaš: a success story.

194.  Di 1996: Ae “v.” His full title is given: gala Inanna Sippar. 195.  Di 1954: Si year name lost and Di 1959, date lost. His fuller title is: gala dutu. 196.  In our study of the sangas of Šamaš we found a second sanga who must have been adopted precisely in order to acquire the title (Tanret 2009: 118). 197.  See Tanret 2009.

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scribes and judges, yield the most connections, although they only rarely extend into more than two generations. Hypothetical families with three generations or more were found for the scribes (two with three generations), the judges (two with three generations and one with four), the overseers of the nadītum-priestesses (the BūrSîn family with four generations), the merchants (one family with probably three generations) and the doorkeepers (the Damu-galzu family with three generations). In view of the number of attestations we would have expected much more but, as explained above, our research was hampered by the practice that when a text gives someone’s title the father’s name is mostly omitted. Seal legends can provide the patronymic and in some cases this has helped us but most of the family links elude us. 198 We must not forget that even if we have thousands of documents, our corpus is in fact still very limited. The 7960 documents we now have from Sippar for the whole of the Old Babylonian period, some 290 years long, amounts to only a good 27 documents per year, furthermore with, as is well known, a very uneven distribution over time. However, it is fair to state that even if we had everything that was written in Sippar during the Old Babylonian period and would thus know infinitely more than in the present situation, it is probable that we still would not be able to reconstruct all the families and many of the transmissions of occupations and offices would still elude us. This is due to the nature of the documentation, which basically was never intended to record everything we would like to know but only what was deemed useful and necessary to have in writing, as a juridical proof or to allow accounting. To be sure, there are texts listing the members of a family over several generations. These are litigations and certificates drawn up when in the chain of transmission one or more documents are missing, but certificates are very scarce. Occasionally a text might cite the name of the father and of the grandfather but then, most often, the title would not be given. Some seals are used by brothers or descendants over several generations but this too is not a widespread practice. In the end we are left with the deficiencies-in our eyes-of this documentation, which do not allow us to judge whether the transmission of a title from father to son was a general practice. Is the scanty evidence we have the top of the iceberg or the exception? We tend to think it is part of a much larger iceberg but more study is needed to really substantiate this. Working with what we do have, we have seen that there are notable differences in the number of links we could establish for the different occupations. There may be a reason for this. Some families stand out: the family of the overseers of the nadītum-priestesses, the family of the doorkeepers of the gagûm-precinct and of course the Ur-Utu family and the first sangas of Šamaš. Out of these the Ur-Utu family has, as we mentioned above, an unfair advantage. Their archive was excavated, transforming Ur-Utu himself from an individual attested two times and a half in published texts, to the best documented private person of the Old Babylonian period. For our purposes we were lucky to find that the archive contained a group of documents, kept in a special box, which allowed us, as it allowed Ur-Utu himself, to reconstruct a large part of the family tree (Tanret 198.  In one exceptional situation it is the other way around: the absence of title and patronymic in the texts helped us to single out a group of individuals, and follow the evolution of this group over time. These are officials of the Šamaš temple in Sippar at the beginning of the Old Babylonian period (Tanret and Suurmeijer 2011).

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2004) and in this way link a number of holders of gala-prebends. Because another part of the archive contained the records of payments made by Inanna-mansum and later his son Ur-Utu, over a period of some fifty years to the animal fatteners of the storehouse of their city, we were able to puzzle together several generations of the families who held this position. For the overseers of the nadītum-priestesses, the doorkeepers and the first sangas of Šamaš this is a different story. These families were pieced together, as far as was possible, by extracting information from a wide variety of documents in which they acted mainly as witnesses. The fact that they were involved so often in witnessing transactions is directly related to their status in society. The holders of these three prestigious offices were naturally called upon when temple people, and in particular nadītum priestesses had transactions put in writing for which witnesses were needed (Tanret 2009: 231). As holders of prebendary functions they were part of what G. Van Driel so aptly called the prebendary elite (Van Driel 2002: 34). According to him, this group was formed by three factors: the occupation of functions based on the principle of heredity in the family, a fixed source of income procured by these functions and the transfer of specialist knowledge within the family. The existence of such an elite thus implies heredity of functions 199 although this becomes visible to us only in the best documented cases, the tip of the iceberg. 199.  D.O. Edzard remarks that under Ḫa and Si functions together with their income were not only being inherited but were also transferable through sale, a sign of growing secularisation (Edzard 1957: 6). This observation was made mainly for the South (Ur, Isin and Nippur) but we have found no trace of it in Sippar. The closest we come is an exchange of fields for a part-time gala-ship (see above) made by some members of the Ur-Utu family with people who cannot (yet) be linked to this family.

References Al-Rawi, F. N. H. and Dalley, S. 2000 Old Babylonian Texts from Private Houses at Abu Habbah Ancient Sippar. Edubba 7. London: NABU Books. Anbar, M. 1975 Textes de l’époque babylonienne ancienne. RA 69: 109–136. Arnaud, D. 1989 Altbabylonische Rechts—und Verwaltungsurkunden. Berlin: Reimer. Barberon, L. 2012 Archibab 1. Les religieuses et le culte de Marduk dans le royaume de Babylone Mémoires de NABU 14. Paris. Birot, M. 1969 Tablettes économiques et administratives d’époque babylonienne ancienne conservées au Musée d’Art et d’Histoire de Genève. Paris: Geuthner. Charpin, D. 1982 Marchands du Palais et marchands du Temple. Journal Asiatique 270: 25–65. 1990 Notices Prosopographiques, 3: les “prévôts des marchands” de Sippar-Amnānum.” N.A.B.U. 1990/1, n° 9. Colbow, G. 2002 Tradition und Neubeginn. Eine ausfürliche Bearbeitung des spätbabylonischen Abrollungen aus Sippar und ihres Beitrags zur Glyptik der Kassiten. München-Wien : Profil Verlag. 2004 Siegelbräuche und Siegeldekore bei den Mästern von Sippar. Altorientalische Forschungen 31/1: 105–131.

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De Graef, K. 2002a An account of the Redistribution of Land to Soldiers in Late Old Babylonian SipparAmnānum. JESHO 45/2: 141–178. 2002b Two Ilšu-ibni’s, two ugula gidru’s. Aula Orientalis: 20: 61–97. Dekiere, L. 1991 Some remarks on Sippar-Amnānum=Sippar-rabûm. N.A.B.U. 1991/4, n° 110. 1994–1997  Old Babylonian Real Estate Documents from Sippar in the British Museum. Ghent University. Gent. n° 1–129 = vol. II, Part I. Pre-Ḫammurabi Documents, 1994. n° 130–341 = vol. II, Part II. Documents from the Reign of ·ammurabi, 1994. n° 342–466 = vol. II, Part III. Documents from the Reign of Samsu-Iluna, 1995. n° 467–563 = vol. II, Part IV. Post-Samsu-Iluna Documents, 1995. n° 564–842 = vol. II, Part V. Documents without Date or with Date Lost, 1996. n° 843–932 = vol. II, Part VI. Documents from the Series 1902–10–11 (from Zabium to Ammiṣaduqa), 1997. Edzard, D. O. 1957 Die “zweite Zwischenzeit” Babyloniens. Wiesbaden: Harrasowitz. 1971 Altbabylonische Rechts—und Wirtschaftsurkunden aus Tell ed-Dēr bei Sippar. BAW Abhandlungen NF 72. Wiesbaden: Bayerische Akademie. Harris, R. 1975 Ancient Sippar. A Demographic Study of an Old-Babylonian City (1894–1595 B.C.). PIHANS vol. 36. Istanbul: Nederlands Historisch-Archaeologisch Instituut te Istanbul. Horsnell, M. J. A. 1999 The Year-Names of the First Dynasty of Babylon (2 vols.). Hamilton: MacMaster University Press. Goetze, A. 1957 Old-Babylonian Documents from Sippar in the Collection of the Catholic University of America. JCS 11: 15–40. Klengel, H. 1994 Richter Sippars in der Zeit des Ammiṣadauqa: ein neuer Text. Pp. 169–174 in Cinquantedeux reflections sur le proche-orient ancien offertes en hommage à Léon De Meyer. Edited by Gasche, H., Tanret, M., Janssen, C., and A. Degraeve. Leuven: Peeters. Lafont, S. 1998 Fief et féodalité dans le Proche-Orient ancien. Pp. 517–630 in Les féodalités. Edited by Bournazel, E. and Poly, J.-P. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France. Lion, B. 2001 Dame Inanna-ama-mu, scribe à Sippar. RA 93: 7–32. Lion, B., and Robson, E. 2005 Quelques texts scolaires paléo-babyloniens rédigés par des femmes. JCS 57: 37–54. Meissner, B. 1893 Beiträge zum altbabylonischen Privatrecht. J.C. Leipzig: Hinrichs’sche Buchhandlung. Pinches, Th. G. 1888 Inscribed Babylonian Tablets in the Possession of Sir Henry Peek. London: Harrison and Sons. Richardson, S. F. C. 2011 Texts from the Late Old Babylonian Period . JCS Supplement Series, 2. Boston: American Schools of Oriental Research. Rositani, A. 2011 Harvest texts in the British Museum. Rivista di Studi Orientali NS 82, supplemento 1. Roma : Fabrizio Serra. Stol, M. 2004 Wirtschaft und Gesellschaft in altbabylonischer Zeit. Pp. 643–978 in Mesopotamien. Die altbabylonische Zeit. OBO 160/4. Edited by Charpin, D., Edzard, D. O. and Stol, M. Freiburg: Academic Press.

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Tanret, M. 2004 Verba volant, scripta non manent. Tablettes nomades dans les archives des gala.ma à Sippar-Amnānum. Pp. 249–270 in Nomades et sédentaires dans le Proche-Orient ancien. Compte rendu de la XLVIe Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale, Paris, 10–13 juillet 2000. Amurru 3. Edited by Nicolle, C. Paris: Editions Recherche sur les Civilisations. 2008 Find the Tablet-box. . .New aspects of Archive-keeping in Old Babylonian SipparAmnānum. Pp.  131–147 in Studies in Ancient Near Eastern World View and Society. Edited by Van der Spek, R. J. Bethesda: CDL Press. 2009 The Seal of the Sanga . CM 40. Leiden: Brill. Tanret, M., and Suurmeijer, G. 2011 Officials of the Šamaš Temple of Sippar as Contract Witnesses in the Old Babylonian Period. ZA 101: 78–112. Van Driel, G. 2002 Elusive Silver. In search of a role for a market in an agrarian environment. Aspects of Mesopotamian society. Uitgaven van het Nederlands Instituut voor het Nabije Oosten te Leiden XCV. Leiden. Van Lerberghe, K. (in coll. with M. Stol and G. Voet) 1986 Old Babylonian Legal and Administrative Texts from Philadelphia . OLA 21. Leuven: Peeters. Van Lerberghe, K., and Voet, G. 1991 Sippar-Amnānum. The Ur-Utu archive. Gent: Ghent University. 1994 An Old Babylonian Clone. Pp. 159–168 in Cinquante-deux reflections sur le Proche-Orient ancien offertes en hommage à Léon De Meyer. Edited by Gasche, H., Tanret, M., Janssen, C., and A. Degraeve. Leuven: Peeters. Veenhof, K. R. 1989a The Sequence of the “Overseer of the Merchants” at Sippar and the Date of the YearEponymy of Ḫabil-kēnum. JEOL 30: 32–37. 1989b Three Old Babylonian Marriage Contracts involving nadītum and šugītum. Pp. 181–189 in Reflets des deux fleuves. Edited by Lebeau, M., and Talon, Ph. Leuven: Peeters. Waterman, L. 1916 Business Documents of the Ḫammurapi Period from the British Museum. London: Luzac. Wilcke, C. 1983 Review of A. Poebels Babylonian Legal and Business Documents From the Time of the First Dynasty of Babylon Chiefly From Nippur. BE 6/2. Teil I. ZA 73: 48–66.

The Tradition of Professions within Families at Nuzi Jeanette C. Fincke Leiden

The so-called Nuzi texts were found at various places in the area east of the River Tigris and south of the Lower Zāb, which was controlled by the kingdom of Arrapḫe for a period of about 100 years, 1 from the late 15th to the late 14th century b.c. 2 The population was predominantly Hurrian, but their scribes used the lingua franca of those days, Akkadian; more precisely, the style they used was influenced by the native Hurrian language and is known as Hurro-Akkadian. 3 These texts provide material for studies not only on language, but also on society, economy, legal practices, and various other aspects of this kingdom. Because Arrapḫe is the only known Hurrian kingdom to have yielded so many cuneiform tablets, it serves as a model for Hurrian society in general. This article focuses on the tradition of professions within individual families. The Nuzi texts consist of legal documents and letters as well as administrative texts. But since none of these texts is dated, 4 analyzing the generations attested in the documents is absolutely essential to establish a relative or internal chronology. The five generations of active scribes belonging to the family of Apil-sîn, the scribe of the king, that span the whole corpus of Nuzi-texts have always been used as a basis for this task. The genealogy of this family 5 has been depicted by Gernot Wilhelm in his book on the Hurro-Akkadian language published in 1970 6 and is still up-to-date; the only addition to his family tree to be made is Utḫap-tae son of Author’s note:  This is the revised version of my paper presented during the workshop “From Father to Son”, that took place during the 57th Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale in Rome. I would like to thank Prof. Alfonso Archi not only for organizing this very inspiring workshop, but also for inviting me to contribute. Mervyn E. J. Richardson kindly read the manuscript and helped converting my words into an idiomatically correct and readable English text. 1.  The Nuzi text corpus covers five generations of active scribes, or about 85 (± 15) years, see A. H. Friedmann, “Toward a Relative Chronology at Nuzi”, SCCNH 2 (1987) 110–13. 2.  For the dating of the Nuzi texts see D. Stein, ZA 79 (1989) 36–60. 3.  G. Wilhelm, Untersuchungen zum Hurro-Akkadischen von Nuzi (AOAT 9; Kevelaer and Neukirchen-Vluyn: Butzon & Bercker and Neukirchner Verlag, 1970). 4.  Only a few texts have date-formulas referring to unusual events but none of these can be linked to absolute dates. 5.  The first overview of this family of scribes including the genealogy was by E. R. Lacheman, “The word šudutu in the Nuzi Tablets”, in Trudy Dvadcat’ pjatogo Meždunarodnogo Kongressa Vostokovedov, Moskva 9–16 avgusta 1960 (Actes du XXVe Congrès International des Orientalistes vol. I, Moskva: Izd-vo vostočoj literatury, 1962) 233–38 (see the chart on pp. 237–38). 6.  G. Wilhelm, Untersuchungen (AOAT 9) 10.

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Fig. 1.  The scribes of the Family of Apîl-Sin and their labor relations.

Ila-nišu, from the fourth generation (fig. 1). Considering that Taya from the second generation has 12 sons, an exceptional number for this family, one wonders if this case is due to the chance finds of tablets, or if the word DUMU, “son”, has a wider

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meaning in the society of the Hurrian kingdom of Arrapḫe. Perhaps student scribes that had entered Taya’s household were later called his “sons”. Since according to all Ancient Near Eastern contracts of apprenticeship the young apprentice entered the household of a craftsman to be taught his profession, 7 a similar procedure may have been adapted to train scribes. 8 This is certainly what Gernot Wilhelm had in mind when he entitled his chart “Schule des Apil-sîn”. But at present there is not enough relevant evidence, so DUMU will be taken literally and the family will be referred to as the “Family of Apil-sîn” in this study. It was scribes from the family of Apil-sîn from the second to the fourth generation who wrote tablets for the family of Puḫi-šenni. Of these documents his son Teḫip-tilla 9 left behind the largest number. 10 Some scribes worked exclusively for the family of Teḫip-tilla, but others never did. Many who worked for the family of Teḫip-tilla wrote tablets also for the royal family or for other landowners, e.g., the family of Katiri. 11 This shows that these scribes were not always employed by a single administrative unit or family but could be hired by anyone when needed. The family tree of the Apil-sîn family (fig. 1) lists the scribes that worked either partly or exclusively for the family of Teḫip-tilla (shaded in grey) and those hired only by other employers (circled); unmarked names are not attested as scribes. First of all, this overview illustrates that almost every member of this family worked as a scribe. There are only a few exceptions in the second, fourth, and fifth generations, disregarding all those family members whose names are not recorded in the Nuzi documents. Focusing on the employers of these scribes emphasizes the strong link between this family of scribes and the Teḫip-tilla family, which began in the second generation of the Apil-sîn family. The majority of the third generation and half of the fourth generation scribes can be linked to the family of Teḫip-tilla. It is striking, though, that these obvious close ties between the two families were not rigid within individual branches of the scribal family. A father’s professional connections were not automatically transferred to his sons, for there were branches where the sons had to find their income as scribes from other employers. But when one generation lost its connection with the Teḫip-tilla family, the next picked it up again: in the branch of Kiannipu, son of Apil-sîn, two sons had other employers, while two of the three grandsons of Kiannipu worked again for the Teḫip-tilla family. Although the family of Apil-sîn serves as model for the relative or internal chronology of the Nuzi texts, the focus of the following study is exclusively on generations of individual families; whenever the members of two families are contemporary this will be mentioned explicitly.

7.  See for instance the overview on Neo- and Late Babylonian contracts of apprenticeship given by M. San Nicolò, Der neubabylonische Lehrvertrag in rechtsvergleichender Betrachtung (Sitzungsberichte der Bayerischen Akademie der Wissenschaften. Philosophisch-historische Klasse, Jahrgang 1950, Heft 3; München: Bayerische Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1950). 8.  Apprenticeship in Nuzi will be discussed below, pp. 567–68. 9.  For a study on this family archive see M. P. Maidman, A Socio-Economic Analysis of a Nuzi Family Archive (Ph.D. dissertation, University of Pennsylvania, PA, 1976). 10.  See Lacheman, Actes du XXVe Congrès International des Orientalistes vol. I, 1962, 234, and, in more detail, Friedmann, SCCNH 2 (1987) 109–129, especially the chart on pp. 116–17. 11.  See Friedmann, SCCNH 2 (1987) 116–17.

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Fig. 2.  The scribes of the family of Ibn-adad and their labor relations.

A few more families of scribes can be traced for several generations, but no other has five generations of active scribes. The family of the scribe Inb-adad 12 (fig. 2), for instance, has four generations attested so far, but only three generations work as scribes. Inb-adad himself is the father of two scribes, Tupki-tilla 13 and UTAMA.AN.SUM. 14 In one tablet UTA-MA.AN.SUM denotes his father as “scribe and servant (lit.: slave) of king Kipi-teššup”. 15 UTA-MA.AN.SUM, like his father, was somehow connected to the palace and wrote tablets for palace members, 16 but such a connection cannot be proven for his brother Tupki-tilla. 17 UTA-MA.AN.SUM’s five sons also worked as scribes: 18 Ḫutiya, Amurriya, UTA-ḪÉ.GAL, Šamaš-ura, and 12.  The genealogy of this family has been established by Lacheman, Actes du XXVe Congrès International des Orientalistes, vol. I, 1962, 237. His denotation of Amur-šarri and his son Sîn-šadūni (both scribes) as sons of Ḫutiya cannot be proven and is, therefore, omitted in this study. 13.  JEN 340:44 (court case between Zil-teššup son of Ḫutiya and Kuari son of Akip-tašenni about a field in the ugāru of Šurini(we)). 14.  JEN 82:25 (Ḫal-šenni son of Mār-adad and lady Winnirke about houses in Nuzi), 436:15 (Kelteššup and Erwi-talma [who is son of the palace according to JEN 374:14] about houses in Ulamme). 15. JEN 82:25–26: IGI dUTA.MA.AN.SUM DUB.SAR DUMU UL-dIŠKUR DU[B].SAR (26) ÌR m ki-bi-te-eš-šu-up LUGAL, “Before UTA-MA.AN.SUM, scribe, son of Inb-adad, scribe, servant of king Kipi-teššup”. 16.  See footnote 14 text JEN 436. 17.  JEN 111 (Kuari son of Akip-tašenni with Zil-teššup son of Ḫutiya), JEN 340 (court case in front of the judges from Purulli(we) with Kel-teššup son of Ḫutiya against Kuari son of Akip-tašenni). 18.  Ḫutiya: JEN 140 (statement of [. . .] concerning a field in Nuzi from Wantišše son of Turari), 327 (court case of Šennaya son of Ḫašip-apu and Ikkiri son of Turari against Teḫiya son of Ḫašip-apu about a field in Zizza), 347 (court case of Teḫip-tilla son of Puḫi-šenni against Ar-šimika son of Utḫapše), 380 (court case of Teḫip-tilla son of Puḫi-šenni against Ḫamanna son of Ḫašiya about a field in Nuzi), 622 (archive of Enna-mati son of Teḫip-tilla), 701 (archive Teḫip-tilla son of Puḫi-šenni), HSS V 47:45 (court case of Šuriḫe son of Ellaya against Ḫupita son of Ḫal-šenni), TCL IX 10:29 (loan document: Ḫurpiya son of Tauka with Nudumar, šellintannu), EN 9/1 414 (court case between Nupanani son of Warad-šamaš against Naiš-tuni, palace slave).

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Fig. 3.  The scribes of the family of lú-nanna and their labor relations.

Šeḫel-teššup. Among these only Amurriya 19 and Šeḫel-teššup 20 wrote for members of the royal family. The fourth generation of this family of scribes is attested by Aḫummīša son of Amurriya, acting as a witness in the business affair of a family that is not well represented in the Nuzi-texts. 21 In the family of LÚ.NANNA (fig. 3), 22 members from the second generation onwards were professional scribes. Both the brothers Intiya 23 and Naniya 24 worked as Amurriya: AASOR XVI 43 (court case with Ḫanate slave of Tulpunnaya against Ḫiarelli wife of Šukr-apu about Ḫalb-abuša), RA 23 no. 5 (last will and testament of Našwe [son of Ar-šenni] in favour of four sons of Wullu). UTA-ḪÉ.GAL: HSS IX 104 (Waḫri-šenni son of Irir-tilla gives a field as pledge to Ilānu and two other men), and maybe also EN 9/3 66 (Akip-šenni son of [. . .] with Itḫa-[. . .]). Šamaš-ura: RA 23 no. 40 (archive of Wullu son of Puḫi-šenni), see also RA 23 no. 41 (archive of Wullu son of Puḫi-šenni) and EN 9/1–3 498 (court case between Wantari son of Šukriya and Ezira). 19.  HSS IX 96 (Šimika-atal son of Zimi[. . .] is given as slave ? to Ḫišmi-teššup son of the king). 20. HSS IX 24 (marriage contract: Zike son of Muš-teššup marries Šuwar-ḫepa sister of Šilwateššup son of the king). 21.  EN 9/3, 69 (archive of Enna-mati and Ḫutanni-teššup sons of Ewara-kale); for this family see also EN 9/3, 70. The court procedure EN 9/1 426 (Ḫašip-turi, daughter of [. . .] against Tuppiya son of Eḫliya), which took place in the town Ašḫušše (hapax), is written by the scribe Aḫ-ummīša, but there is no proof that this scribe is identical with Aḫ-ummīša son of Amurriya. 22.  The genealogy of this family has been established by Lacheman, Actes du XXVe Congrès International des Orientalistes vol. I, 1962, 236. 23.  JEN 253 (archive of Ḫaiš-teššup son of Puḫi-šenni), 273 (archive of Ḫaiš-teššup son of Puḫišenni) and as witness in JEN 232 (archive of Teḫip-tilla son of Puḫi-šenni). 24. JEN 303 (archive of Teḫip-tilla son of Puḫi-šenni), 313 (archive of Teḫip-tilla son of Puḫišenni), 578 (archive of Teḫip-tilla son of Puḫi-šenni), 733 (archive of Teḫip-tilla son of Puḫi-šenni) and as witness in JEN 56 (archive of Teḫip-tilla son of Puḫi-šenni) and 530 (archive of Teḫip-tilla son of Puḫi-šenni).

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scribes for either of the sons of Puḫi-šenni, Ḫaiš-teššup or Teḫip-tilla, while Taya is attested only as a witness in a fragmentary tablet. 25 Three of Intiya’s sons, Appa, 26 Ila-nīšu, 27 and Zunzu, 28 were also scribes. All of them worked predominantly for the sons of Teḫip-tilla, especially frequently for Enna-mati. Their cousin Akiya son of Naniya, on the other hand, never wrote a tablet for the Teḫip-tilla family but wrote for the Našwe family instead. 29 The fourth generation of this scribal family is attested by Ḫuziri son of Zunzu, who wrote a tablet for Uzna  30 the wife of Enna-mati, a son of Teḫip-tilla. 31 It is obvious that the Intiya line of the family remained working almost exclusively for the Teḫip-tilla family, while the Naniya line had to find other employers. It is the families of scribes, which are the easiest ones to be traced in the Nuzitexts because these texts consist of private documents and administrative texts. The private documents name contract partners, neighbours of real estate, or witnesses. But since the normal way of identifying a named person is by giving the father’s name, adding the profession is redundant. But a scribe gives both his father’s name and his profession, at least in most cases. Judges can also be traced genealogically, since they are the only ones that ratify trial records with their seal. Since all trial records have several seal impressions -at least three excluding the seal of the scribe—it is obvious that judges act in a group, as a kind of council that presides over trials. 32 The term judge, however, does not so much apply to a profession as to a function, as the example of Eḫlip-apu shows. Eḫlip-apu is ḫazannu of Nuzi, which means mayor of Nuzi, as several documents show. 33 He is also identified as son of Nupanani. 34 Apart from his duty as mayor, Eḫlip-apu serves in court as manzaduḫlu, something like a policeman or court usher. 35 And once he is attested as judge in a court case. 36 Of course, these functions 25.  JEN 412 (most of the tablet is broken off and lost). In the second generation of the family of Apil-sîn there is also a family member called Taya, but he is attested a scribe (see figure 1). 26.  JEN 348 = 653 (archive of Enna-mati son of Teḫip-tilla) and 369 (archive of Enna-mati son of Teḫip-tilla). 27.  JEN 86 (archive of Teḫip-tilla son of Puḫi-šenni) and 411 (archive of Teḫip-tilla son of Puḫišenni). In the family of Apil-sîn there is another scribe called Ila-nīšu, also from the 3rd generation and also active for the Teḫip-tilla family, but that scribe is the son of Sîn-napšir (see figure 1). Because two contemporary scribes with the same name are attested for the Teḫip-tilla archive, it is difficult to identify the scribe Ila-nīšu in those cases, in which he omitted his patronymic. 28.  JEN 68 (archive of Enna-mati son of Teḫip-tilla), 98 (archive of Enna-mati son of Teḫip-tilla), 154 (archive of Teḫip-tilla), 272 (archive of Enna-mati and Akip-tašenni sons of Teḫip-tilla), 281 (archive of Zilip-tilla, Niniš-še, and Ḫui-tilla sons of Wardiya exchanging fields with Ḫašiya son of Adad-nīšu), 312 (archive of Enna-mati son of Teḫip-tilla), 364 (archive of the sons of Teḫip-tilla), and others. 29.  RA 23 no. 10 (archive of Našwe [son of Ar-šenni ?] who receives a field from the four brothers Zime, Šamar, Šennaya and Šeršiya sons of Aḫliya). 30.  HSS XIII 418 (archive of Uzna daughter of Ḫašiya, who was married to Enna-mati). 31.  See the family tree drawn by M. P. Maidman, A Socio-Economic Analysis of a Nuzi-Family Archive (PhD dissertation, University of Pennsylvania, 1976), 54, see also p. 49. 32.  See R. E. Hayden, Court Procedure at Nuzi (PhD dissertation, Brandeis University, 1962; Ann Arbor: Xerox University Microfilms, 1985) 10–11. For JEN 138, the only text in which just one judge is mentioned, see ibidem 192 note 23, and C. H. Gordon, OrNS 5 (1936) 308 and 320–2 text V. 33.  HSS V 67:58; 96:28; XIX 47:29, 40; 48:38; 73:31–32; JEN 440:16, 17. 34. HSS XIX 2:71, 82; CT 2 21 (Bu. 91–5-9, 296):27 (ḫazannu), 35; JEN 354:40; EN 9/1 8: 34 (ḫazannu), 39. 35.  HSS V 49:7. For manzaduḫlu see Hayden, Court procedure at Nuzu, 13–5. 36.  HSS V 48:2, 40.

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Fig. 4.  Families withi judges (di.kud).

could represent different stages in Eḫlip-apu’s career, but this is something we cannot prove because the Nuzi texts are not dated. But it is probably relevant to note that some people known as rākib narkabāti, chariot driver, served as judges. Since, according to the Nuzi texts, chariot drivers were usually wealthy landowners, and thus able to fulfil their various duties with respect to chariots and horses at their own expense. 37 So they would have been members of prestigious and well-respected families, which explains, why some of them were also called to act as judges. 38 It is therefore likely that the same was true for well-respected mayors. Some families provided judges over several generations, as in two cities: the capital Arrapḫa 39 and Unapše-(we) 40 (fig. 4). The family of Akap-tukke (family I in fig. 4) lived in Arrapḫa. Akap-tukke’s son, Niḫriya, 41 served as a judge (TCL IX 8), once with Lā-qīpu (Gadd 37), once with Ḫaiš-teššup (JEN 127), and once with Paya (EN 9/1 420) (fig. 4, 1st and 2nd 37.  See G. Dosch, Zur Struktur und Gesellschaft des Königreichs Arrapḫe (Heidelberger Studien zum Alten Orient Band 5 [HSAO 5]; Heidelberg: Heidelberger Orientverlag, 1993), 24–50. 38.  See G. Dosch, HSAO 5, 43–44; A. Fadhil’s impression that all judges eo ipso belong to the group of rākib narkabāti (see A. Fadhil, Studien zur Topographie und Prosopographie der Provinzstädte des Königreichs Arrapḫe [BaF 6, Mainz: Philipp von Zabern, 1983], 233b and 268a) does not hold true. 39.  Both the kingdom and the capital have the same name; in order to distinguish between both in this study, I use the conventional writing Arrapḫe for the kingdom, and Arrapḫa for the city. 40.  For all place names from the kingdom of Arrapḫa mentioned in this study, see J. Fincke, Die Orts- und Gewässernamen der Nuzi-Texte (Répertoire Géographique des Textes Cunéiformes Band 10; Wiesbaden: Dr. Ludwig Reichert, 1993), and G. G. W. Müller, Studien zur Siedlungsgeographie und Bevölkerung des mittleren Osttigrisgebietes (Heidelberger Studien zum Alten Orient Band 7 [HSAO 7]; Heidelberg: Heidelberger Orientverlag, 1994). 41.  See also HSS V 49 (as witness).

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generation of families II-IV). In one court case he was one of those acting together with his son Ar-tašenni son of Niḫriya (EN 9/1 117). Ar-tašenni is also attested as a judge without his father, but with Antarari son of Ar-tešše (Kelsey 2 + TCL IX 12), who represents the 3rd generation of the family of Lā-qīpu (fig. 4, family II). Niḫriya and his son Ar-tašenni acting together in the same case may well be a parallel to Niḫriya acting with his father Akap-tukke. If this were true, Niḫriya’s father Akap-tukke could be the judge Akap-tukke son of Kakki 42, who acted with Niḫriya son of Akap-tukke and Ḫaiš-teššup son of Puḫi-šenni (HSS V 48; see fig. 4, family III). In a list of grain rations, both Akap-tukke son of Kakki and Niḫriya son of Akap-tukke are identified as rākib narkabāti, chariot drivers (HSS XIII 6:8, 22), members of the upper classes in the kingdom of Arrapḫe; this supports the supposed identification of Niḫriya’s father Akaptukke with Akap-tukke son of Kakki. Another family whose members served as judges in Arrapḫa is the family of Lā-qīpu (fig. 4, family II), already mentioned. Unfortunately, the name of Lā-qīpu’s father remains unknown. During his career, Lā-qīpu 43 acted as judge together with Niḫriya son of Akap-tukke (Gadd 37) and together with Ḫaiš-teššup and Paya in a lawsuit about a field in Tašenni(we), a city bordering at Arrapḫa (EN 9/1 414) (see fig. 4, families I, III-IV). Both his son Ar-tešše 44 (MBC 310) and his grandson Antarari (Kelsey 2 + TCL IX 12) were judges in court cases on fields in the dimtu Uknippa, located in Al-ilāni, an alternative name for Arrapḫa. The grandson Antarari judged his case together with Ar-tašenni son of Niḫriya (Kelsey 2 + TCL IX 12). The father of Ḫaiš-teššup, Puḫi-šenni, is not attested as judge (see fig. 4, family III). The father of Paya, on the other hand, Pui-tae (see fig. 4, family IV), was judge in two court cases about fields in Unap-še(we) (JEN 191, 369). Since it is not likely that someone served as judge in another town and Pui-tae’s son Paya served as judge in Arrapḫa, the family might have moved from Unap-še(we) to Arrapḫa. In Unap-še(we), two members of the family of Purnazini 45 (see fig. 4, family V) served as judges, Muš-apu 46 and his son Puḫi-šenni. 47 Here it should be noted that Puḫi-šenni was not the first son and principal heir of Muš-apu, but he had still established a social position for himself -predominantly by lending grain— 48 and this allowed him to be called to serve as judge. This suggests that even prestigious and well-respected families did not automatically transfer the function of judge to the oldest son. The family of Paip-purni 49 (fig. 4, family VI) is represented with three judges in Unap-še(we): Abeya and Ar-zizza, two sons of Paip-purni, and Kelip-šarri, son

42.  See also HSS IX 8 and 12 as well as EN 9/3, 499. 43.  See also RA 23 no. 37, according to which Lā-qīpu is judge. 44.  Ar-tešše son of Lā-qīpu (JEN 245:19) acted as judge in a court case on a field in the dimtu Uknippa (MBC 310: 16), which is located in Al-ilāni (sc. Arrapḫe). 45.  For the activities of this family see M. A. Morrison, “The Family of Muš-apu Son of Purna-zini”, SCCNH 4 (1993) 69–94 (family tree on p. 69). 46.  Without patronymic: JEN 107 (lawsuit about a field), JEN 631 (sworn statement about a field in one of Unap-še(we)’s dimtus located in the ugāru), JEN 651 (lawsuit about a field in one of Unap-še(we)’s dimtus located in the ugāru), 673 (lawsuit about a field in Unap-še(we)); for the identification of the judge Muš-apu with Muš-apu son of Purna-zini see A. Fadhil, BaF 6, 1983, 313–314. 47.  The patronymic is not preserved: JEN 399 (lawsuit on a field in one of Unap-še(we)’s dimtus) and 668 (lawsuit on a field, location unknown). 48.  See A. Fadhil, BaF 6, 1983, 316–19, and in more detail M. Morrrison, SCCNH 4 (1993) 74–80. 49.  The family tree can be found in M. Morrrison, SCCNH 4 (1993) 94.

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Fig. 5.  Famlies with gatekeepers (maṣṣar abulli or abultannu).

of Abeya. 50 Abeya 51 served with his brother Ar-zizza in a court case about a field of which the location is not mentioned (JEN 362). According to two other court records (JEN 107 and 673), Ar-zizza served with Muš-apu, who belonged to the Purna-zini family (fig. 4, family V). One of these cases involved a field in Unap-še(we) (JEN 673). Kelip-šarri son of Abeya acted as judge in two cases (JEN 399 and 668) with Puḫi-šenni, the son of Muš-apu (fig. 4, family V). The strong tie between the families of Purna-zini and Paip-purni is shown by members of the same generation serving together in councils of judges. It can also be seen in the business transactions of both families. 52 For other professions it is more difficult to trace families in which members of more than two generations pursued the same occupation. Since the private documents of the Nuzi-texts were usually written in one of the city gates, occasionally the gatekeepers, maṣṣar abulli or abultannu, are included as witnesses. Nuzi texts were mainly found at Nuzi, Arrapḫe, and Kurruḫanni, 53 so it could be thought that there is little chance of tracing families of gatekeepers elsewhere. In fact, there are 50.  See A. Fadhil, BaF 6, 1983, 322b–25a, G. G. M. Müller, HSAO 7, 143. 51.  He was also judge also according to the fragmentary record JEN 658. 52.  See M. Morrison, SCCNH 4 (1993) 69–94. 53.  See J. Fincke, Die Orts- und Gewässernamen der Nuzi-Texte, XII-XIII with an overview on the publication of the texts; additional texts have been published in the journal that started off as a series: Studies on the Civilization and Culture of Nuzi and the Hurrians, Winona Lake 1981ff.; additional Nuzitexts from the British Museum, London, can be found in M. P. Maidman, “Some Late Bronze Age Legal Tablets from the British Museum: Problems of Context and Meaning”, in B. Halpern and D. W. Hobson (ed.), Law, Politics and Society in the Ancient Mediterranean World (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1993) 42–89, and G. G. W. Müller, HSAO 7, 1994, and Londoner Nuzi Texte (SANTAG Band 4; Wiesbaden:

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some family members serving as gatekeepers over several generations at Anzukalli and Nuzi (see fig. 5). In Anzukalli, both the son and the grandson of Ikkiya, Šeḫala (HSS XIII 376) and Akip-tašenni (EN 9/1 26), worked as gatekeepers. Šeḫala was assigned to the Sara-gate, 54 and Akip-tašenni to one that is unspecified. In Nuzi, a larger city with more gates, two families of gatekeepers are known (see fig. 5). Ḫamanna son of Šurukka (JEN 258) was apparently the first gatekeeper in his family, but the gate where he worked is not mentioned. His son Ila-nīšu 55, and his grandson, the Ḫutiya 56, were both assigned as gatekeepers to the Tišša-gate of Nuzi. The other family of gatekeepers attested for Nuzi, the family of Zike (see fig. 5), worked at different Nuzian gates. Dayyānu, the first gatekeeper of his family, took over the so-called Zizza-gate (AASOR XVI 55) as his profession or duty. Where exactly his son Ḫanaya served is unspecified (JEN 470, 845). Ḫanaya’s son Kuššiya is attested as gatekeeper 57 of the western gate (KÁ.GAL ša šupāli) of Nuzi (EN 9/1 199) as well as of the Tišša-gate (HSS V 15 and 36). Unless there are alternative names for the same gate, Kuššiya changed his location of work during his career. The son of Kuššiya, whose name is unfortunately lost, also served at the Tišša-gate (HSS IX 157). There are other professions attested in the Nuzi-texts, 58 but it is very difficult to trace any families associated with them. The ration-lists give the names of various craftsmen, but hardly ever with patronyms; mentioning the profession or occupation was enough to identify the person. A few families can be traced who were shepherds for one successive generation. 59 In one of them two brothers both joined the profession. Ḫanaya, son of Apaya, had worked as shepherd for Šilwa-teššup (HSS IX 61), the son of the king, and then two of his sons, Elḫip-apu and Ḫalšenni, also worked as shepherds (HSS XVI 384). But they did not stay in the service of Šilwa-teššup but worked for the royal palace. Following one’s father’s occupation did not necessarily mean staying with the same employer. This holds true especially for shepherds Harrassowitz, 1998); for the publication of the British Musum’s Nuzi texts until 2005 see also J. C. Fincke, SCCNH 18 (2009) 239–48 (see pp. 229–38 for three British Musuem Nuzi texts). 54.  The Sara(e)-gate of Anzukalli has most probably been located in the direction of either the Saracanal or, more likely, the city Sara; both cities are connected by the Nirašše-canal as are Nuzi and Kipri. For these place names see the studies cited above in footnote 40. 55.  As gatekeeper in the Tišša-gate: JEN 102, HSS IX 19, 22, HSS XIX 140. As gatekeeper without specifying the gate concerned: JEN 9, 61; HSS V 59, BM 80733 (SANTAG 4 no. 57), BM 85220 (unpublished). 56.  As gatekeeper in the Tišša-gate: JEN 105, HSS XIX 74. As gatekeeper without specifying the gate concerned: JEN 783, 816, HSS V 99, RA 23 no. 54, EN 9/ 236, BM 26249 (SANTAG 4 no. 27). 57.  As gatekeeper without specifying the gate concerned: HSS V 26, HSS IX 20, EN 9/1 160, and to be restored in JEN 490 and HS XIX 124. 58.  See, e.g., W. Mayer, Nuzi-Studien I. Die Archive des Palastes und die Prosopographie der Berufe (AOAT 205/1; Neukirchen-Vluyn: Butzon & Kercker Kevelaer, 1978) with lists of personal names attested for each particular occupation found in the palace archives. 59.  See, e.g., Eḫlip-apu son of Arta (e.g., HSS XIII 57, HSS XIV 590, HSS XVI 245, 255, 296, 303) and his son Ḫutip-apu (HSS IX 60, HSS XIII 385, 495, HSS XVI 242, 300, EN 9/3 476), who both worked for Šilwa-teššup, the son of the king (for Eḫlip-apu see, e.g., HSS XIII 372, where he witnessed a transaction of Šilwa-teššup, or EN 9/1 308 receiving a loan of barley from Šilwa-teššup; for Ḫutip-apu see HSS IX 60, HSS XIII 495, HSS XVI 300, and EN 9/3 476). Or the shepherd of the palace Ḫuziri (JEN 525: 34: LÚ.SIPA ša É.GAL-lì, JEN 670: 40: L[Ú.SIPA ša] ⸢É⸣.GAL) and his son Šenne (HSS IX 45, HSS XIV 573), who did not work for the palace but for Šilwa-teššup, the son of the king (see HSS IX 45). For the shepherds working for the palace see Mayer, Nuzi-Studien I, 190–96.

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because most of them could have worked free-lance, charging for every animal they cared for. Other brothers with the same occupation, especially among shepherds, include Itḫapu and Kip-erḫa, sons of Paya, both said to be from the town Apzaḫulušše (CT 51 no. 8). Both Nullu 60 and Utḫap-tae were sons of Akip-tilla and both worked as shepherds for Šilwa-teššup (HSS IX 63). A similar situation arised in a family of weavers (LÚ.UŠ.BAR or išpāru), where Tarmi-teššup 61 and Ulmi-tilla 62 sons of Akiya worked as weavers as their father Akiya had done. Both these brothers belonged to the ḫupše-class, 63 which seems to be a class of free citizens. 64 The examples shown so far demonstrate that a certain preference for maintaining a profession within families existed in the Hurrian kingdom of Arrapḫe. This is a perfectly natural situation. Children or teenagers easily learn the skills of their fathers or their older brothers. In addition, social interaction with a father’s professional colleagues and older family members from a very young age often encourages a youngster to follow their profession. This would also be the case in families that earn their living by financial transactions, lending grain or money, an occupation that demands resources and experience more than skills. Someone who chose a profession outside his family would at an early age become an apprentice and live in the household of a craftsman. The few contracts of apprenticeship in the Nuzi texts showing this possibility are all very fragmentary. 65 They are phrased as formal statements, usually of the father of the apprentice. Unlike comparable Neo- and Late Babylonian 66 contracts, 67 Nuzi contracts do not refer to the duration of an apprenticeship or the penalty for insufficient education, but one does state that the craftsman will not be paid until he has finished teaching the apprentice (HSS XIX 59). This procedure, of course, is an incentive to teach effectively. Similarly, Nuzi texts do not usually explicitly require the master to feed and to equip his apprentice. The two tablets that do combine a contract of real adoption with the duty to teach the adopted son a profession: one child is to be trained in the “profession of a weaver”, išparūtu (JEN 572), 68 the other one in the “trade of a barber”, gallabūtu (EN 9/3, 87). 69 These two texts further indicate that training occurred within the family, when a son learned the profession of his father or of some older family member. The document for the apprentice barber does not record his father’s statement, but the statement of his master recalling the earlier agreement with his father. 60.  See, e.g., HSS XIV 590 and HSS XVI 262. 61.  HSS XVI 384:9. 62.  HSS XVI 384:9. Without patronym: HSS XIII 33:10, HSS XIV 37:7, and HSS XVI 348:6. 63.  HSS XIV 649:12, HSS XV 143:1, and HSS XVI 337:13. 64.  In administrative texts, the group of ḫupše-people is contrasted with the slaves of the palace. For the ḫupše in Alalaḫ see E. von Dassow, State and Society in the Late Bronze Age. Alalaḫ under the Mittani Empire (SCCNH 17; Bethesda: CDL Press, 2008), 340–43. 65.  I am preparing a thorough study of all apprenticeship agreements from Nuzi. 66.  See M. San Nicolò, Der neubabylonische Lehrvertrag, 1950. 67.  I understand from my colleague in Leiden, Rients de Boer, that a very small group of Old Babylonian contracts of apprenticeship is being studied as a group in France. The results of this research should shed light on the evolution of such agreements. 68. See J. M. Breneman, Nuzi Marriage Tablets (PhD dissertation, Brandeis University, 1971), 226–27 text no. 102 69.  The other two professions attested so far among the Nuzi texts for apprenticeship agreements are the “trade of a smith”, nappaḫūtu (HSS XIX 59), and the “trade of a silversmith”, nappaḫ(ūt)u ša KÙ.BABBAR (EN 9/1, 257).

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EN 9/3, 87 obverse  1 [EME-šu ša mxx x]x-te-šup   2 [DUMU xx xx x]x-⸢ia⸣ a-na  3 [pa-ni LÚ].MEŠ iq-ta-bi  4 [ma-ri-i]m-mu-uš-še ÌR  5 [ša mna]-ni-ip-te-šup DUMU ur-ḫi-ia  6 [ù mna]-ni-ip-te-šup a-na ga[l]-la-bu-ti  7 [a-na lu]-um-mu-dì a-na ŠU-ia  8 [i-le-e]q-qè ù a-na na-a-ri 70  9 [e]-⸢ta⸣-pa-aš-šu i+na-a[n-na] 10 [ma]-ri-im-mu-uš-še 11 [xx xx]-ri-ia iḫ-t[a-as-sú] 12 [ù a-n]a-ku it-ti m/1 x[x 13 [xx xx xx x]x-RU ad-d[in 14 [xx xx xx K]Ù.BABBAR.MEŠ [ (rest of obverse is lost) (beginning of reverse is lost) reverse 15′ [N]A4 mzi-⸢il-te-e DUB.SAR-rù⸣ [(seal impression)] 16′ [NA4 mxx-a]r-⸢te-a⸣ NA4 mur-[ḫ]i-ia (seal impression) 17′ [NA4 mxx xx xx xx xx x]x [ (rest of the tablet is lost)

Translation:

“1[Statement of x]x-teššup 2[son of x]x-ya. In 3[front of (these) peo]ple he has said (thus): ‘4[Ari]m-mušše, the slave 5[of Na]nip-teššup son of Urḫia, (is the one that) 6–7a[Na]nip-teššup in order [to l]earn the trade of a barber 7b-8a has given (lit.: taken) into my hand(s), 8b-9aand [I] have made him (my) son. 9bAnd no[w], 10[A]rim-mušše 11has ta[ken] my [daugh]ter?! (as wife ?). 12 [And] I, together with . . .[. . .] 13[. . .]..have giv[en . . . (something)].’ ” Then, the tablet breaks. On the reverse, the seal impressions of the witnesses can be seen.

This record describes an ideal situation for the craftsman: After having accepted Arim-mušše as his apprentice barber and by adopting him as son (perhaps he had no sons of his own), he ensured the survival of his family business. By marrying his daughter (or whatever female relative is hidden behind the traces in line 11 of the obverse) to his apprentice and adopted son he cemented the ties of his adoptee to his own family. An arrangement that had started as an agreement for apprenticeship plus adoption developed into an erēbu-marriage, where the son-in-law entered the family of his bride. Thus it can be seen that the Nuzi texts confirm the general custom of sons taking up the professions or occupations of their fathers. This means that the sons learned the skills they needed within their own family. If for some reason that was not possible, a young son could be transferred to some other craftsman for an apprenticeship. His master may then decide to adopt his apprentice, although obviously that was not obligatory. One way or the other the pater familias had taken care of his sons and enabled them to earn their living as adults. 70.  na-a-ri = māri. For the occasional writing of māru with m>n-dissimilation in the Nuzi texts see K. Deller, OrNS 56 (1987) 194.

Crafts and Craftsmen at Ugarit Wilfred van Soldt Leiden

Introduction The handing down by one generation to the next of acquired knowledge and skills has been and still is one of the most important mechanisms of survival in any society of the world. The theme of this workshop looks at a particular aspect of this continuous process, the training of the next generation within one family. Since our texts clearly show a bias towards data concerning the male population this concerns almost always the training of a son by his father or, in some cases, by his grandfather. Naturally the data that can be gleaned normally occur in texts that did not really aim at showing us how the training process worked, they are rather concerned with completely other matters and it is by chance that we learn about fathers with a certain profession who teach their sons their craft. Of course, the ones who usually stand out are the scribes, simply because they wrote the texts that we have and they were able to put in autobibliographical remarks, when they deemed this necessary. In colophons they provide us with important information about their teachers and what their relationship to them was. For other professions it is much more difficult to find information, but administrative records and juridical texts give us some clues about the handing down of skills from father to son. In Ugarit our information is limited to the last phase of the Late Bronze Age, the period between ca. 1330 and 1180 b.c. The written material was found in the royal palace and in a number of private houses. Administrative and juridical texts have been found in large numbers almost everywhere, but the school texts providing the colophons that tell us about the scribal families were almost all retrieved from private houses, such as the ones of Rap’ānu, Rašap’abu, Urtenu, the high priest, and the houses in the Southern City (Ville Sud) and on the Southern Acropolis (Sud Acropole). 1 When we look at the data that can be gathered from these texts we find at least four different groups that provide information about the theme of this workshop. The first group is of course that of the scribes, who regularly give the name of their father. The second one is the so-called ʿAbdu archive, in which an important citizen of Ugarit receives land and subsequently hands it over to his sons. The third group concerns the data found in juridical texts about services that were performed in the framework of the ilku (pilku) system. Finally, the fourth group consists of 1.  For the locations of the palace and the private houses I refer to Yon 2006.

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data found in administrative texts that concern professionals who are mentioned with their children or their heirs. These texts often deal with landed property. I will treat these four groups one by one. The kings of Ugarit: ʿAmmiṯtamru I Niqmaddu II Arḫalba Niqmepaʿ ʿAmmiṯtamru II ’Ibirānu Niqmaddu III ʿAmmurapi’

?–ca. 1350 ca. 1350–1315 ca. 1315–1313 ca. 1313–1260 ca. 1260–1235 ca. 1235–1220 ca. 1220–1200 ca. 1200–1180

The Scribes The first group, the scribes, is mainly attested in juridical texts and in colophons of lexical and literary texts written as part of the school curriculum. At first sight the quantity of data seems quite impressive, but when we look closer, most of these data are hardly relevant for our topic. I will summarize briefly the data that can be used. First of all the juridical texts. The scribes regularly added their names at the end of the text. Most of these juridical texts are royal land deeds that were kept in the Central Palace Archive. Unfortunately, the scribes only mention their own profession, not the one of the father and we can only be sure that the father worked as a scribe if he is attested independently with his profession in one of the records. However, even this does not prove that he is indeed the father of the scribe, but this is at least likely in view of the limited number of scribes. 2 The clearest examples are the scribes Munaḥḥimu son of Yarimmu and Yaʿḏirānu son of Ḫuṣānu. Munaḥḥimu son of Yarimmu is attested in nine land deeds from the Central Palace Archive. In seven of these the royal name is preserved and all of them are dated to ʿAmmiṯtamru II. There is a second Munaḥḥimu, who is attested in three juridical texts from the Southern Palace Archive. 3 However, since both Munaḥḥimus should be dated to approximately the same time (the reign of ʿAmmiṯtamru II) and since their script is very similar these two persons are probably one and the same. 4 His father Yarimmu wrote two juridical texts–also in the Central Palace Archive–one of which is dated to Niqmaddu II and one to ʿAmmiṯtamru II. 5 Therefore he worked during the period just before Munaḥḥimu and he can very well be his father. 2.  See van Soldt 1995: 181f. 3.  van Soldt 1991: 22, no. 29 (2). 4.  van Soldt 1991: 29f., no. 29. 5.  van Soldt 1991: 24, no. 45. According to Márquez Rowe 2006: 137103, the differences in orthography in the two texts are too outspoken and the documents probably referred to different scribes. These differences could perhaps also be interpreted as slowly changing scribal habits, but the identification of these two Yarimmus nevertheless remains uncertain. If they are different persons the Yarimmu attested in the reign of ʿAmmiṯtamru II is the most likely candidate for the son of Ḫuṣānu. The lack of documents from the reign of king Niqmepaʿ could also mean that the ʿAmmiṯtamru mentioned in RS 16.156 is in fact Niqmaddu II’s father (see Freu, HPRU 31f.). Note, however, that the second scribe mentioned in text RS

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The second scribe is Yaʿḏirānu son of Ḫuṣānu. Yaʿḏirānu is attested as the scribe of three land deeds, all of which are dated to the reign of ʿAmmiṯtamru II. 6 In none of these his father is mentioned. However, he is attested in three other land deeds from the time of Arḫalba, Niqmepaʿ and ʿAmmiṯtamru II, respectively. 7 In one of these a house is taken away from him, in the two others he receives real estate. In all three his father is mentioned and in one he is explicitly called a scribe. 8 It seems likely that all references are to the same person. As for his father Ḫuṣānu, a person of this name is mentioned as the scribe of two land deeds dated to Niqmepaʿ. 9 Since Yaʿḏirānu was mainly active during the reign of Niqmepaʿ’s successor ʿAmmiṯtamru II the scribe Ḫuṣānu could very well be his father. A third example from the juridical texts is Ili-ramu, son of Šapšu-malku. He is mentioned as a scribe in RS 18.285, a land deed from the time of ʿAmmiṯtamru II. He is probably the same person who is the last witness in RS 16.114, a juridical text of unclear content and date. 10 In the latter, Šapšu-malku is mentioned as his father and he should probably be identified with the well-known scribe attested during the reigns of Niqmaddu II and Niqmepaʿ. 11 The last possible example that we can extract from the juridical texts is that of the scribe Iltaḥmu and his father Karrānu. Iltaḥmu is well attested as a scribe in documents from the royal palace during the reign of ʿAmmiṯtamru II. 12 In a text drawn up before a kartappu of the king of Karkamiš and written by the Ugaritic scribe Nuʿmi-Rašap son of Abāyu, a certain Iltaḥmu, son of x-ra-na and a sukkallu of the king, is listed among the witnesses. 13 Since the title sukkallu is frequently attested with scribes this Iltaḥmu could be the same as the scribe mentioned earlier. The text is dated to ʿAmmiṯtamru II’s grandson Niqmaddu III, but in view of the relatively short reign of Niqmaddu’s father Ibirānu this should pose no problem. More difficult is the name of his father. In an earlier article I interpreted the traces of the first sign as k[ar] 14 and the copy does not seem to contradict this reading. 15 Karrānu is attested under Niqmepaʿ as a scribe of land deeds. He is also attested as a sukkallu of the king of Ugarit in a witness list on a juridical text from the time of Ḫattušili III. 16 It can hardly be a coincidence that both Iltaḥmu and his alleged father were sukkallu of the king of Ugarit, the son under Niqmaddu III, the father during the reign of Ḫattušili III. As scribes they were active during the time 16.156 is Šapšu-malku, who is attested under Niqmaddu II, Arḫalba and in particular during the reign of Niqmepaʿ. I would prefer to interpret ʿAmmiṯtamru in RS 16.384 as the grandson of Niqmaddu II. If the king is indeed ʿAmmiṯtamru I the distance between Yarimmu and Munaḥḥimu would certainly be too great and this Yarimmu must then have been a different person. 6.  RS 15.118, 16.192A+205, 16.282A(+)B, see van Soldt 1991: 25, no. 48. 7.  RS 16.239, 16.206, 16.153, see van Soldt 1991: ibid. 8.  RS 16.206:9–10. 9.  RS 15.138+16.393B, 16.285, see van Soldt 1991: 21, no. 20. Note that in both texts the merchant Sinarānu son of Sigi(nu) plays an important role. 10.  See PRU 3: 33. I read the name [mdi]ngir–r[a?]-mu dub.sar-rù, but this reading is not entirely sure. 11.  See above and van Soldt 1991: 23. 12.  van Soldt 1991: 21. 13.  RS 17.371+18.20 (PRU 4: 202) rev. 11. 14.  van Soldt 1988: 319. 15.  Nougayrol read the name m[ku]r?-ra-na (PRU 4: 202). 16.  RS 17.137 (PRU 4: 105). Ḫattušili is not mentioned in this text, but it can be dated to his reign on account of the messenger Tili-Teššub who is said to have been sent to Egypt.

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of  ʿAmmiṯtamru II and Niqmepaʿ, respectively. If this reasoning is correct it would appear that Iltaḥmu not only inherited his father’s profession as a scribe, but also his function as a diplomat in international affairs. Finally there are the two sons of Nuʿme-Rašap who are attested in schooltexts. 17 One of these sons, Ili-šapšu, is attested in the ‘Maison aux tablettes litéraires’ in the Southern City (Ville Sud), the second one, Gimraddu, 18 occurs in schooltexts from the house of Rap’ānu, the ‘Maison aux tablettes litéraires’ and the Southern Acropolis (Sud Acropole). 19 Ili-šapšu wrote two juridical texts, one from the house of Rašap’abu and one from the Ville Sud. 20 The first one gives only his own name, the second one also gives the name of his father Nuʿme-Rašap. It cannot be ascertained if these scribes were one and the same person, both texts are undated. Gimraddu is attested as a teacher in three texts. He is mentioned as such by the scribes [. . .]lānu and . . .zi. 21 In one text he is called the son of Nuʿme-Rašap. 22 As for Nuʿme-Rašap himself, there are possibly two different scribes of this name, which can be distinguished by the spelling of the theophoric element. In the name of Nuʿme-Rašap son of Abāyu this element is written either dKAL or dnè.eri11. gal, in the name of the other Nuʿme-Rašap it is spelled dMAŠ.MAŠ. 23 The first scribe is attested during the reigns of ʿAmmiṯtamru II and Niqmaddu III 24, the second during the reign of Ibirānu. 25 I have tried to show elsewhere that these two scribes could very well be the same person, because they lived around the same time, they worked in the same archives and their spellings are very similar. 26 The only way to prove that they are is to find a reference to a filiation for the name spelled with d MAŠ.MAŠ. From the available evidence one can conclude that sons often had the same profession as their fathers. In some cases it is possible to follow this process from the moment they still were in school.

The ʿAbdu Archive The second important group of texts for our topic is the archive that consists of legal documents concerning ʿAbdu son of ʿAbdi-Rašap and his family. All documents are land deeds that were found in the Central Palace Archive. 27 In two texts ʿAbdu 17.  According to Nougayrol there was a third son of Nuʿme-Rašap, a certain Ewri-muḏu, see Ugaritica 5: 304, footnote 1 and MSL 10: 37, footnote 1. His name is attested in RS 22.410+ (Hh 14–15) and probably also in RS 20.195A (Weidner God List) from the house of Rap’ānu (see van Soldt 1991: 20). Nougayrol’s reading of this scribe’s name in RS 22.346+349 (Hh 16–17) was not borne out by collation, see van Soldt 1991: 20, no.19. 18.  For possible interpretations of this name, see van Soldt 1988: 314, footnote 15. 19.  RS 20.170B+ (Hh 5–7), 22.346+ (Hh 16–17), and 25.453+ (Hh 8–9), respectively. 20.  The texts are RS 17.36 (Ugaritica 5: 10) and RS 22.223. For the latter, see Malbran-Labat 1995: 34, and Roche 2008: 210. 21.  See van Soldt 1995: 211f. For [. . .]lānu, see RS 25.453+ (Hh 8–9), for . . .zi, RS 22.346+ (Hh 16–17). The name in 20.170B+ is broken. 22.  RS 22.346+. 23.  For a detailed desciption of these two scribes, see van Soldt 1991: 30f. 24.  In the juridical records RS 15.143+, 15.168, 15.131, 17.371+, 18.02, see van Soldt 1991: 20. 25.  In the juridical record RS 18.280, see van Soldt 1991: 20. 26.  van Soldt 1991: 30f. 27.  The texts are RS 16.239 (Arḫalba), 16.254D (date lost), 16.143, 16.157, and 16.250 (all Niqmepaʿ). See Reviv 1972: 225f.; Liverani 1979: 1320; Vargyas 1981: 171f.; van Soldt 1991: 7, footnote 70; Schloen

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receives fields from the king 28 and in three other texts he passes these fields on to his sons ʿAziru, Kalbu and Ilimilku. 29 Of these, ʿAziru appears to be the most important, Kalbu was the son of a wife that ʿAbdu had divorced, Ilimilku was the son of a (former) slave-girl. That is probably why Kalbu and Ilimilku were both explicitly exempted from any obligation towards their half-brother ʿAziru. 30 That ʿAbdu was an important citizen of Ugarit can be seen from the fact that he was a witness to a real estate transfer supervised by Irīb’ilu, the sākinu of Raqdu. 31 The professions of the persons involved in these transactions are not entirely clear. In the earliest text, dated to Arḫalba, ʿAbdu is stated to be a maryannu šarri (“charioteer of the king”) and a mūdû šarri (“friend of the king”), but the supervisor of the chariots (lúugula gišgigir) will have no authority over ʿAbdu and his sons. However, he will pay the king a certain amount of silver per year. 32 The texts in which ʿAbdu transfers the land that he has received to his sons show that the two professions, or rather the profession (maryannu) and the honorary status (mūdû), were transferred to his sons. Thus his son ʿAziru receives land from his father and he is said to be mūdû of the king for which he pays 10 shekels each year. His profession as maryannu is not explicitly mentioned, but he is immune to claims from the supervisor of the chariots and the mayor. 33 His son Kalbu is also appointed as mūdû of the king with the usual payment, but there is no remark in the text about his profession as a maryannu. 34 Kalbu had already received real estate and household utensils during the reign of Arḫalba, which is confirmed in a text from the time of Niqmepaʿ. 35 In the latter it is said that his mother had left. Note, however, that the former text says that the supervisor of the chariots will have no power over ʿAbdu and his sons, which presumably also includes Kalbu. 36 Finally, his son Ilimilku also receives real estate and the clauses concerning his profession and status are similar to those used for ʿAziru. He is said to be a mūdû of the king and he pays the usual amount of silver. The supervisor of the chariots and the mayor will have no authority over him, which probably implies that he was a maryannu as ʿAziru and his father. In short, this archive shows that the sons ʿAziru and Ilimilku not only had the same profession as their father ʿAbdu, but that they also enjoyed the honorary status of their father, although they had to pay for it. Also the third son Kalbu was a mūdû of the king, but it is not certain whether he also took over the profession of his father.

2001: 245; Márquez Rowe 2006: 126. 28.  RS 16.239 and 16.254D. 29.  RS 16.157, 16.143, and 16.250, respectively. 30.  For the clause A zaki ištu B, see RS 16.143:12–13 (Kalbu) and 16.250:14 (Ilimilku). 31.  RS 17.61:17, see van Soldt 2010a: 88, footnote 10 and pp. 106–07 (A7). 32.  RS 16.239:17–19 and 30–32. The amount of silver to be paid was probably 10 shekels, as in the other texts (cf. 16.254D:10′), see Márquez Rowe 2006: 242. For the exemption from actual service, see ibid.: 240f. 33.  RS 16.157:20–23. 34.  RS 16.143:20–21. 35.  RS 16.239 and 16.143, respectively. 36.  RS 16.239:30–33.

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However, the royal deeds contain a number of examples of professions that were changed because of a transfer of landed property. These changes had to do with the pilku service.

The pilku Service in Royal Deeds It has been observed that in Ugarit two kinds of pilku service were known, one that concerned the fields that were handed by the king to one of his subjects and a second that concerned this subject’s profession. 37 In the land deeds we often find that, for example, the new tenant does not have to carry the pilku service of the estate, but that he has to carry the pilku service of a certain professional group. The question is if this profession is always the profession that the grantee had. Perhaps the pilku service could also oblige him to work in another profession. An interesting example is the case of Tuppiyānu, who receives property of a certain Binu-ḫattiyima at two different occasions. The first time the property is transferred to him by king Arḫalba 38 and it is stipulated that he shall perform the service of the leather workers (lúašgab). It is also said that no one should take the landed property away from Tuppiyānu and his sons. In the second text 39 the grant is apparently confirmed by king Niqmepaʿ and Binu-ḫattiyima is now called a nayālu, someone who is no longer able to perform his service, presumably because he has died. 40 In this case Tuppiyānu is said to have been released from the leather workers and has been placed among the lúzag.LU, usually translated as “lancers”. 41 In his place one of the lúzag.LU is to be removed from his professional group and to be placed among the leather workers. Tuppiyānu and his sons are declared free from the obligations of the earlier professional group.  According to Márquez Rowe the second profession received by Tuppiyānu is more prestigious and the change can be seen as a promotion for him an his sons. However, I have not been able to ascertain that this is indeed the case. Another case probably shows why a change in profession could take place. Two texts are dated to the reign of ʿAmmiṯtamru II. In the first one 42 the king transfers landed property from three owners to Abbānu and his sons. One of the former owners is Kilbi-ewri. According to the text Abbānu will have to perform the service of the stewards (lúšà.tam). In the second text 43 property of the same Kilbi-ewri is transferred to another tenant, in this case Kabidyānu, who will also perform the service of the stewards. In line 17 of this text it is said that Kilbi-ewri is a steward and this could explain why in both texts the new tenants had to carry the pilku service of the stewards. The pilku concerning the profession could either be that of the former owner or it could be part of the obligations attached to the property. 44 A real promotion in status is probably documented in a few other texts. 45 In one text 46 king ʿAmmiṯtamru II transfers property to a certain ʿAbdi-Ḥagab and his 37.  See most recently Márquez Rowe 2006: 234–38. 38.  RS 16.142, see Márquez Rowe 2006: 128–29. 39.  RS 15.Y. 40.  Márquez Rowe 2006: 225–26, footnotes 50 and 51. 41.  See, for example, Vita 1999: 494; Márquez Rowe 2006: 235, footnote 81. 42.  RS 17.01. 43.  RS 15.122. 44.  For this problem, see Márquez Rowe 2006: 237–38. 45.  See the discussion in Márquez Rowe 2006: 245–46. 46.  RS 15.137.

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sons. He removes him from the ʿaširus, the exact meaning of which is unknown, and places him among the mūdû šarri, “friends of the king”. He has to pay 20 shekels of silver per year for the honor, but the mayor and the field supervisor will not have any authority over him. 47 In the administrative lists of professions the order is often according to status and the mūdû usually appears earlier in the list than the ʿaširu. 48 Another case of promotion is a text which seems to have been written solely to document a change of profession. 49 King ʿAmmiṯtamru II removes his subject Yanḥammu, son of Napakku, from the mur’u of Ibirānu and places him among the mūdû of the queen. As far as the broken text can be reconstructed he has to pay 20 shekels per year for this honor, the mayor will have no authority over him and he is exempt from bringing beer, oil and barley to the palace. 50 The mūdû of the queen are not mentioned in the professions lists, 51 but they probably rank with the mūdû of the king. It is possible that when the list gives only mdm the “friends of the queen” are implied.

Administrative Lists More than twenty administrative texts mainly from the palace contain lists of professions and the persons who are supposed to practice those professions. These persons are often mentioned with their sons (bn) or heirs (nḥl) and it is unclear whether these two words refer to a difference in status. Although they would normally refer to the person’s offspring it is by no means sure that they do so in every case. There are at least twelve juridical documents that deal with adoption and in these records the adoptees are regarded as the adoptive father’s own sons. 52 Moreover, some administrative texts listing field owners mention ‘heirs’ who receive land from several owners, which means that they cannot have been the real sons of each one of these owners. For example, in KTU 4.631 Saḫurānu and Tyn receive fields from different persons and in all cases they are called ‘heirs’. 53 Also, there is one royal deed concerning the transfer of landed property in which the owner appoints an heir, possibly because he has no sons of his own. 54 The persons involved are the šatammu Takḫulinu, possibly the same person as the sākinu of that name, who appoints as his heir Gamiraddu, a well-known beneficiary of landed property. 55 The text is dated to the reign of ʿAmmiṯtamru II. 47.  RS 15.137:13–18. 48.  Compare, for example, RS 11.858 (KTU 4.103), in which the mdm (scil. mlk) are the first, while the ʿšrm are fourth. 49.  RS 16.348. 50.  For these exemptions, see Márquez Rowe 2006: 240–41. 51.  For another attestation, see RS 16.353:31, where Takḫulinu and his sons are appointed “friends of the queen”. This Takḫulinu could be the same as the sākinu of that name, see van Soldt 2001: 589. Note that he pays only five shekels (per year?) for this honor. There is also the pilku of the “sons of the queen”, compare RS 16.138:35f. and 16.204 rev. 10′f.). 52.  See van Soldt 2010a: 107f., and Malbran-Labat and Roche-Hawley 2012. 53.  See van Soldt 2010b: 159f. Saḫurānu (sḫrn) occurs in lines 10 and 20, in line 10 he inherits from Agapṯarri (agpṯr), in line 20 from ilnnn son of irpṯr. Tyn inherits a field from Ananimenu (annmn) in line 11 and from Puǵiyānu (pǵyn) son of krmn in line 12. 54.  RS 16.148+254E (PRU 3, 115). 55.  van Soldt 2010b: 159.

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It is clear that we have to be careful when we encounter the words for ‘son’ and ‘heir’ in the texts. They could also refer to adoptive sons or people who have been appointed as heirs for the occasion. In order to go back to the lists of professions and the possibility that sons took over the trade of their fathers we will have to look at families, that is fathers and their sons, who are grouped under a single profession. An eloquent example is provided by the families of Qiqilunu and ʿAnnu. 56 These families are listed in five different texts, two in syllabic and three in alphabetic script. In one of the syllabic texts the sons of both Qiqilunu and ʿAnnu are listed as PN1 son of PN2, 57 in the other we find three times “Son of PN”. 58 In the alphabetic texts we find two different methods of listing these persons. In KTU 4.35 59 we find “PN1 son of PN2” in which PN2 is either Qiqilunu or ʿAnnu, and the same formula can be found in KTU 4.155. In KTU 4.66 we have bn.qqln, w.nḥlh, w.nḥlhm, “The son of Qiqilunu, and his heirs and their heirs” in lines 2–4, and we probably have the same formula for a son of ʿAnnu in lines 9–11. 60 In two texts 61 the profession of these persons is indicated, they belong to the ṯannanu, probably the archers. 62 That the sons and heirs are mentioned together under the same header makes it likely that they all had the same profession, which they probably inherited from their fathers.

Conclusion In conclusion I think that at Ugarit there is enough evidence to say that sons often learned their craft from their fathers. This is certainly so with the scribes, for whom scribal families are attested and who testified to their apprenticeship in their colophons. In other families this principle is also attested, such as ʿAbdu and his sons, some of whom were a maryannu like their father. Also the lists of professions testify that in certain families the sons had the same trade, but it is not always clear whether the terminology refers to real sons or adoptees. Caution must be expressed with regard to the professions that are mentioned in the land deeds. In a number of cases it is clear that the profession to be performed is tied to the field that is acquired, but the king could change or even upgrade the status of the grantee. 56.  van Soldt 1991: 38; Dijkstra 2006. 57.  RS 17.242:2–5 (Qiqilunu) and 10–13 (ʿAnnu). 58.  RS 23.79 III:2′–4′. 59.  The names are attested in II:12–15 (qqln) and 19–21 (ʿn). 60.  According to Dijkstra’s reconstruction of KTU 4.412+ (2006: 208f.) a son of ʿAnnu and his heirs is also mentioned in II:6′f. 61.  KTU 4.35 II:11 and 4.66:1. 62.  Dijkstra 2006: 207: “chariot-archers”; Vita 1995: 125f.; van Soldt 2003: 694.

References Dietrich, M., and Oswald L. 1995 Ugarit. Ein ostmediterranes Kulturzentrum im Alten Orient. Ergebnisse und Perspektiven der Forschung. I: Ugarit und seine altorientalische Umwelt. ALASP 7. Münster: Ugarit-Verlag.

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Dijkstra, M. 2006 Some prosopographical remarks on the nqdm in KTU 4.412+. Pp. 207–218 in Šapal tibnim mû illakū. Studies presented to Joaquín Sanmartín on the occasion of his 65th birthday. Edited by G. del Olmo Lete, L. Feliu, A. Millet Albà. Barcelona: AUSA. Liverani, M. 1979 Ras Shamra–II. Histoire. SDB: 1295–1348. Malbran-Labat, F. 1995 L’épigraphie akkadienne. Rétrospective et perspectives. Pp. 33–40 in Yon, Sznycer and Bordreuil, 1995. Malbran, Labat, F., and Roche-Hawley, C. 2012 Le vocabulaire de l’adoption dans les textes akkadiens d’Ougarit. Pp. 179–200 in Scribes et érudites dans l’orbite de Babylone. Orient et Méditerranée. Edited by C. Roche-Hawley and R. Hawley. Paris: de Boccard. Márquez Rowe, I. 2006 The Royal Deeds of Ugarit. AOAT 335. Münster: Ugarit-Verlag. Reviv, H. 1972 Some Comments on the Maryannu. IEJ 22: 218–28. Roche, C. 2008 Jeux de mots, jeux de signes en Ougarit ou de l’influence des textes lexicaux sur les scribes de périphérie. Pp.  205–14 in D’Ougarit à Jérusalem. Recueil d’études épigraphiques at archéologiques offert à Pierre Bordreuil. Orient et Méditerranée 2. Edited by C. Roche. Paris: De Boccard. Schloen, J. D. 2001 The House of the Father as Fact and Symbol. Patrimonialism in Ugarit and the Ancient Near East. Studies in the Archaeology and History of the Levant 2. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. van Soldt, W. H. 1988 The Title ṮʿY. UF 20: 313–21. 1995 Babylonian Lexical, Religious and Literary Texts. Pp. 171–212 in Manfried Dietrich and Oswald Loretz 1995. 1991 Studies in the Akkadian of Ugarit: Dating and Grammar. AOAT 40. Berlin: NeukirchenVluyn Neukirchener Verlag, Kevelaer Butzon & Bercker. 2001 Studies in the sākinu-Official (1). The spelling and the office-holders at Ugarit. UF 33: 579–599. 2003 The Use of Hurrian Names at Ugarit. UF 35: 681–707. 2010a The Akkadian Legal Texts from Ugarit. Pp. 85–124 in Trois Millénaires de formulaires juridiques. Hautes Études Orientales–Moyen et Proche-Orient 4/48. Edited by S. DémareLafont and A. Lemaire. Genève: Librairie Droz S. A. 2010b Landholders in Administrative Texts. Pp. 151–63 in Society and Administration in Ancient Ugarit. PIHANS 114. Edited by W. H. van Soldt. Leiden: Nederlands Instituut voor het Nabije Oosten. Vargyas, P. 1981 Le mudu à Ugarit. Ami du roi? UF 13: 165–79. 1999 The Society of Ugarit. Pp. 455–98 in Handbook of Ugaritic Studies. HdOr. I/39. Edited by W. G. E. Watson and N. Wyatt. Leiden: Brill. Vita, J.-P. 1995 El ejército de Ugarit. Banco de datos filológicos semíticos noroccindentales. Monografías 1. Madrid: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas. Yon, M. 2006 The City of Ugarit at Tell Ras Shamra. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns. Yon, M., Sznycer M., and Bordreuil P. 1995 Le pays d’Ougarit autour de 1200 av. J.-C. Actes de Colloque International Paris, 28-juin1er juillet 1993. Ras Shamra–Ougarit 11. Paris: Éditions Recherche sur les Civilisations.

Hereditary Transmission of Specialized Knowledge in Hittite Anatolia: The Case of the Scribal Families of the Empire Period Giulia Torri Florence

The present paper focuses on the hereditary transmission of the scribal craft and techniques inside Hittite families of the late Empire period. Because of the lack of private documents, our chances to reconstruct aspects of the Hittite society and to shed a light on the principles that regulated the transmission of technical knowledge inside a family must then be based primarily on the prosopographic reconstruction of family ties in order to ascertain the titles and professions of their members. 1 Unfortunately, the craftsmen, workers, and court officers in the late Hittite Empire period rarely inserted the patronymic or their genealogy close to their names. Inventory texts and court depositions in which a number of court officers and craftsmen are mentioned usually refer only to the name, the title, and in some case the hometown of a person without giving indication about his kinship ties. Only when it was necessary to distinguish two homonyms does this happen, as in the court case against GAL-dU, son of Ukkura (CTH 293) in which two persons both named Yarraziti are distinguished by the insertion of the patronymic close to their names. 2 In recent times it was proposed that personal names were transmitted following the rule that the older son would inherit the name of his grandfather (Marizza 2010). Although far from being definitely confirmed, this rule helps in going one step further to verify if members of the same family shared the same profession for some generations or if at least a core of techniques could have been transmitted within the same kinship circle, as will be shown in the following. Author’s note:  I would like to thank Dr. Sh. Gordin for reading carefully an earlier draft of this paper and for indicating similar and alternative conclusions he reached in his recent dissertation (Gordin 2012). 1.  For an overview of the Hittite society see von Schuler 1966. The most complete study about the composition of Hittite society is at the moment Pecchioli Daddi 1982. 2.  KUB 13.35++ rev. III 19: mYa-ar-LÚ-iš DUMU mTu-ut-tu; III 20: mYa-ar-ra-LÚ-iš DUMU mLa-ḫina-LÚ (Werner 1967: 3 and 10). The same GAL-dU is mentioned in this document as “son of the decurion Ukkura” (I 1). The phonetic reading of this name is uncertain. Already Laroche 1966, nr. 1441, observed that the name could be read as an Anatolian name, Uratarḫunta, or a Hurrian name, Talmitešub. Since during the period of Ḫattušili III and Tutḫaliya IV there are several officers of different rank, we may propose that the patronymic was inserted close to his name to distinguish him from others, especially since he was charged with an accusation to despoil the queen’s property (van den Hout 1995a: 163–164).

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The perception that for the Hittites techniques and practical arts were transmitted from father or mother to children is visible in a few exemplars of magical rituals. We have a magical ritual of evocation, KUB 41.22, performed by a woman named Punau(wa)šḫa, a magician of an unknown city. A second ritual, KBo 20.107+, having a similar content, mentions as performer another female magician whose name is lost, but is called “the mother of Punau(wa)šḫa” (Bawanypeck 2005: 105–122): KBo 20.107++ rev. IV f 20′ [A-WA-AT     -]ši-a AMA fPu-u-na-wa-aš-ha

Another example is present in the ritual of Anniwiyani (CTH 393) who is called the mother of Armati, a MUŠEN.DÙ (Bawanypeck 2005: 51–70): VBoT 24 obv. I 1 UM-MA fA-an-ni-ú-i-ya-ni AMA mA-ar-ma-ti LÚMUŠEN.DÙ 2 ARAD mHu-u-ur-lu-u

The particularity of these two examples is that the genealogical ties are stressed backwards, that is that the main magician is mentioned as “Mother of ” followed by the personal name of her son or daughter. 3 This may reinforce the proposal introduced by Jared Miller that the magical experts mentioned in the incipit of rituals are more legendary characters than real persons, at least at the time of the copy in our possession, and that their names are added solely in order to increase the popularity of these scribal compositions (Miller 2004: 469–532). The only exception known to me is in the middle Hittite collection of ritual texts, on the tablet KBo 21.82 (+) KBo 37.27 rev. IV: 5′ ṬUP-PÍ.3.KAM ŠA mḪa-at-tu-ši-li DUMU mZu-wa-ki-ip-p[í] 6′ LÚ ŠU.GI URUZi-i-pa-at-ta KUR URUZa-al-pu-wa “Third Tablet of Ḫattušili, the son of Zuwapikk[i], the Elder (!?) 4 of Zipatta in the land of Zalpa”.

It is interesting for our purposes to stress how incipit composers, the scribes, sought to enhance ritual value by stressing a family lineage in which these magical practices were transmitted through generations. Of course this perception derives from the social reality in which priesthood, here intended as the craft dedicated to properly perform rituals, was transmitted from father to son, as a court deposition, KUB 38.37 (CTH 295), shows: 5 KUB 38.37 rev. III 8 UM-MA mHu-u-tar-li LÚSANGA A-NA A-BU-Y[A ] 9 dUTU URUTÚL-na AŠ.⸢ME⸣ GUŠKIN dMe-ez-zu-la-aš-š[a]

3.  It is probably not a coincidence that both rituals are part of the same cultural tradition, see Bawanypeck 2005. 4.  Since there are no other mentions of male performers of magical rituals marked by a title ŠU.GI (whose Hittite reading for female staff is ḫašawa- “female ritual practitioner,” Otten 1952: 231–34) I prefer to translate this form generically as “elder” (the determinative MUNUS has probably to be excised). Compare Görke 2007: 204 n. 2 with previous literature. 5.  Werner 1967: 56–57.

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10 AŠ.ME KÙ.⸢BABBAR⸣ 6 e-še-er nu-wa-ra-aš-za I-NA É.[DING]IR-LIM 11 ši-ip-pa-an-za-ki-it ki-nu-un-ma-wa-za ú-uk 12 I-NA É-YA BAL-ki-mi   _________________________________________________________ 13 UM-MA mZu-wa-a ŠA A-BU 7 A-BU-NI-wa-na-aš dUTU URUTÚL[-na-w]a 14 AŠ.ME GUŠKIN e-eš-zi nu-wa-aš-ma-aš-ša-an e-eš-ša-an-zi (8–12) “Thus (speaks) Hutarli, the SANGA-priest: “To my father there was (a symbol of) the Sun Goddess of Arinna, in the form of a disc of Gold, and (a symbol of) the Goddess Mezulla in the form of a disc of silver. He worshiped them in the temple. Now I worship them in my House”. 8 (13–14) Thus (speaks) Zuwa: “From the father of our father we inherited (a symbol of) the Sun Goddess of Arinna in form of a disc of gold. It is regularly worshiped”.

More data on the topic can be gathered within the compass of the scribal families. Turning now the attention to them I will present some more significant examples to show how the art of writing was transmitted inside families, in some cases for several generations. 9 During the late Empire period we have in Ḫattuša two main scribal circles that were apparently formed in the time of Ḫattušili III and were still working during the initial phase of Tutḫaliya’s reign (Gordin 2011: 177–98). They are the scribal team of Anuwanza, scribe, court officer and Lord of Nerik (Torri 2010b), and the scribal team of Walwaziti, the GAL.DUB.SAR “Chief scribe” descending from the Mittanamuwa’s family, in which this office had been transmitted from father to son, at least from the time of Muršili II (Doğan Alparslan 2007: 247–57; Marizza 2010: 85–97; Gordin 2012: Ch. 3). These two teams, while working for the same management, had separate spheres of activities. They copied different kinds of texts and resided in different scriptoria of the capital city. The team of Anuwanza can be safely reconstructed. Apparently its commission was to retrieve and copy the tablets (of various derivation and content) already stored in Ḫattuša that had, for some reason, been lost, dispersed or spoiled (Torri 2011: 141–143. Compare Gordin 2011: 189 ff.). Scribes employed in Anuwanza’s scriptorium usually wrote down the patronymic close to their names and in some cases also the profession of their fathers. Thus we are able to observe when brothers of the same family were employed in this scribal team (Table 1). We know for example that Anuwanza had at least two sons who undertook the scribal career: 10 Tummani, author of an oracle inquiry and a second one, whose name is unknown (Torri 2010a: 319–21), author of a mythical text, the tale of Appu (CTH 360). Even though these two scribes work on different texts and genres, we may notice a tendency to use obsolete and affected signs in their signature, different from the current Hittite cuneiform script. This may be a trait learned in the family, although we have too few elements to speculate about this (Torri 2010a). 6.  Written over erasure. 7.  Written over erasure. 8.  Compare the translation of Taggar-Cohen 2006: 210–211. 9. This aspect of the Hittite scribal training is still unknown. This is due to the type of documentation of the Hittite archives. 10.  Pace Weeden 2011a: 200 with n. 882. See Torri 2010a.

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Table 1.  Anuwanza’s Scriptorium Anuwanza Scribes without patronymic

Scribes with patronymic Anatšar son of Ganušta11

Angulli son of Palla12

GIŠ.GI.PÌRIG-i14

Hanikkuili son of NU.GIŠKIRI615

Hapatiwalwi son of Karunuwa17 Tuwataziti16

Nananza son of Adda18

Pihhuniya son of Tatta

Pikku son of Tatta

Luwa19

Duwa

Tummani son of Anuwanza21

Tarhuntaziti son of Pidda22

Tattiganna23

Ziti son of NU.GIŠKIRI624

Zuzzu son of Šanda25

PN son of Anuwanza26

20

Armaziti13

 11  12  13  14  15  16  17  18  19  20  21  22  23  24  25  26

It is unfortunately impossible to reconstruct Anuwanza’s ancestry because he never declares the name of his father. The name that he gave to one of his sons, Tummani, recurs in a Hittite letter of the early Empire period, KBo 15.28 (rev. 5–13), addressed from a scribe NU.GIŠKIRI6 to three other persons (Hoffner 2009: 84–86; Marizza 2009: 113–14). One of them has the name Tumni/ Tummani (rev. 5) being therefore a possible candidate as member of Anuwanza’s ancestry. 27 The person named NU.GIŠKIRI6 in the same letter may have been a member of a family which can be traced for several generations. There is a possibility that this is the same scribe mentioned in the colophon of the text KUB 32.19, a tablet containing a Hurrian prayer and attributed to CTH 777.8, a document of the early Empire period. 28 This text was written by a scribe named AMAR-ti (Ḫubidi?), and then (EGIR) copied by another scribe whose name was exactly NU.GIŠKIRI6. 29 It is 11.  KUB 7.25 IV 8′–9′ (colophon). 12.  KUB 32.133 IV 7′–8′ (colophon). KUB 30.26 IV 13′–14′ (colophon). 13.  KBo 19.128 VI 36′–37′; KUB 4.1 IV 41′; KUB 7.1 IV 15′–16′. 14.  KUB 26.28 IV 12′. 15.  On the probable membership of Ḫaniklkuili to Anuwanza’s team see Torri 2011. 16.  KUB 20.8 VI 7′–10′ (colophon). KBo 42.28 rev. 3′–8′ (colophon). 17.  KBo 30.165 rev. 2′–3′ (colophon). 18.  KBo 23.44 IV 10′–11′ (colophon). 19.  FHL 16 rev. 1 (colophon). 20.  KUB 9.6 IV 27′–28′ (colophon). 21.  KUB 43.77 IV 3′–4′ (colophon). 22.  KUB 2.13 VI 35–37 (colophon). 23.  KUB 10.21 rev. VI 1′–2′ (colophon); KBo 21.49+ rev. 5–6 (colophon). 24.  KUB 35.41 IV 5′–6′ (colophon); KUB 29.4 IV 45–46 (colophon). 25.  KUB 36.83 IV 12′–13′ (colophon). 26.  VAT 13019b IV 20–21 (colophon). 27.  Unfortunately there are not sufficient elements to prove this proposal. He is mentioned together with the scribes Tumnaziti and Tuwattaziti. 28.  The composition is attributed to the king Tutḫaliya III. See Marizza 2007: 68–69, with previous literature. See also Singer 2002: 44. 29. For the interpretation of this colophon compare HW2 (a) 160a “Erste Tafel des A. nach N.”. However this colophon might also be interpreted as “Tablet of A.: later N.” that is: the tablet was pro-

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likely that this person was related to the scribal family of the late Empire period. 30 A scribe and teacher with the same name, NU.GIŠKIRI6, who lived in 13th century, was father of the scribes Ziti, Ḫanikkuili, Šaušgaziti, and perhaps Karunuwa (Marizza 2010: 88). Some of them were surely employed in the team of the supervisor Anuwanza as well.  31  32  33  34  35  36

Table 2.  The Family of NU.GIŠKIRI6 in the 13th Century. Family of NU.GIŠKIRI6 Ziti Ḫanikkuili Šaušgaziti (son, under Anuwanza) (son, under Anuwanza) (son) Teacher of Ašḫapala,31 ZA.ḪUMFather of Aliḫḫini ZA32 and GUR-šarruma33 (pupil of Zuwa)34

Karunuwa (son?, under Anuwanza35 and Šipaziti36)

Ziti, who has the name of his grandfather (Marizza 2010: 87–88), does his work under Anuwanza’s supervision, copying at least two texts: KUB 35.41, part of the Luwian magical ritual dupaduparša (CTH 759); and KUB 29.4+ (CTH 481) “The Expansion of the Cult of the Deity of the Night”. This Ziti will become later a supervisor, as he is known for overseeing the work of at least three scribes: Ašḫapala, 37 ZA.ḪUM-ZA, 38 and GUR-šarruma. 39 Although he never declares the name of his supervisor, I was able to show that Ḫanikkuili was a member of Anuwanza’s team as well, thanks to the presence in one of his colophons of the sentence “ṬUPPU URUḪatti” which is a distinctive mark of several texts produced in Anuwanza’s bureau (Torri 2011). As a matter of fact this Ḫanikkuili is our primary source for reconstructing his scribal family because in the colophon of his copy of the Hittite laws, KBo 6.4 edge 1–4, he mentions his complex genealogy (Hoffner 1997: 98): “Ḫanikkuili, the scribe, son of NU.GIŠ, grandson of Ziti, chief of the scribes; great-grandson of Karunuwa ḫalipi, officer of the High Country; and great-grandson of Ḫanikkuili the Herdsman.”

duced by AMAR-ti and later copied by NU.GIŠKIRI6. (I thank Dr. Rita Francia for the discussion about this phrase). Compare Gordin 2012: 185. 30.  Marizza 2010: 87–89. See also Devecchi 2010. However the reconstruction proposed by Marizza 2010: 88, and Devecchi 2010: 23, is not convincing. They assume that NU.GIŠKIRI6 (I) who lived in the period of Tutḫaliya III could be the father of the scribe Ziti (I) witness of the Aleppo Treaty at the time of Muwatalli and consequently great-grandfather of the Ziti who was a scribe in the time of Tutḫaliya IV. Considering that after Tuthaliya III there are three other kings, Suppiluliuma I, Arnuwanda, and Mursili II, and that this last one was even the youngest son of Suppiluliuma I and was reigning for a long period, there are too many years between NU.GIŠKIRI6 (I) and Ziti (I) to accept a direct filiation. They may have been relatives, if we accept the rule that a name was transmitted for generations within the same family. For a different reconstruction see Gordin 2010a: 323–324 and 339. 31.  KUB 33.120 + rev. 29′–35′ (colophon). 32.  KUB 55.59 l.edge 1 (colophon). 33.  KUB 51.12 rev. 7′–8′ (colophon); KUB 12.15 l.edge 1′–2′ (colophon). 34.  KUB 13.9+ IV 10′–11′ (colophon). ?? 35.  KBo 30.165 rev. 2′–3′ (colophon). 36.  KBo 20.77 rev. 4′–5′ (colophon). 37.  KUB 33.120+ IV 30 (colophon). 38.  KUB 55.59 l.edge 1 (colophon). 39.  KUB 51.12 rev. 8 (colophon); KUB 12.15 l. edge 2 (colophon).

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A third son of NU.GIŠKIRI6 family is Šaušgaziti. We do not have proof that he was also working in Anuwanza’s team or that he was a scribe. 40 This Šaušgaziti had a son, Aliḫḫini, who was employed as scribe, and who will work two generations later under the supervisor Zuwa. 41 As Marco Marizza has recently suggested, the mention in Ḫanikkuili’s genealogy of Karunuwa, a ḫalipi officer of the High Country, could be evidence that another scribe of Anuwanza’s circle named Karunuwa was a member of the same scribal family (Marizza 2010: 88). He copied under Anuwanza the festival text KBo 30.165 (CTH 634). There are a few other elements to support this idea: this same scribe was later employed under Šipaziti, as the colophon of another festival fragment KBo 20.77 (CTH 660) shows. This Šipaziti was controlling some division of Anuwanza’s bureau, since he supervised the work of Ḫapatiwalwi and Tatiganna, two of Anuwanza’s scribes, (respectively writers of KBo 21.42 and KUB 20.8) and was responsible for renewing the myth KBo 14.86++ (rev. IV 27′–29′) for the Storm God of Kuliwišna and a tablet of the witaššiyaš-Festival, KBo 45.168++ (rev. IV 18′–l.e. 2), which were later copied by Ziti, the already mentioned son of NU.GIŠKIRI6, also a worker under Anuwanza’s control (Glocker 1997: 38–39). 42 The decree of Tutḫaliya IV in favor of Šaḫurunuwa (CTH 225.A) confirms that Šipaziti and Anuwanza were contemporaries since in this document they are mentioned one after the other. Šippaziti is quoted as a simple scribe, and Anuwanza as scribe (a title that he rarely bears in colophons), Lord of Nerik and SAG-officer: KUB 26.43++ rev. 34 mŠi-pa-LÚ DUB.SAR mA-nu-wa-an-za DUB.SAR EN URUNe-ri-ik LÚSAG

Turning attention now to the oldest generations of the NU.GIŠKIRI6 family, we see, as Gary Beckman showed long ago, that its ancestry may go back to a middle Hittite scribe named Ḫanikkuili, copyist of KBo 19.99 (Beckman 1983: 103–106, Gordin 2012: 182–183). “The hand of Ḫanikkuili, the scribe, son of Anu-šar-ilani, the scribe, interpreter, servant of Enbilulu, Ea and Ninmaḫ, Ninegal, Anu, Adad, Marduk, Aššur, x[,,,], and Inar, beloved of Ḫebat”

This text is a naru-prism in Akkadian language concerning the deeds of Naram-sin. The colophon of this middle Hittite scribe named Ḫanikkuili is exceptional in Hittite documentation. First of all, this Ḫanikkuili is the only one in this period who mentions his genealogy. Second, he composed a list of gods evidently with the intention to recall the Babylonian custom of inserting patron deities of the profession in the colophons, but for some reasons he elaborated a different list. We do not have proof that the Mesopotamian scribe Anu-šar-ilani existed and worked in Ḫattuša during the early years of 15th century or earlier. But the scribe Ḫanikkuili writer of the middle Hittite narû-prism could be related with a scribe Ḫanikkuili mentioned in three land grants sealed by the king Ḫantili II (Bo 90/728, Bo 90/568, Bo 90/758; Wilhelm 2005: 278–279; van den Hout 2009: 92–93). If all 40. The reading INANNA-LÚ-i in KBo 13.62 rev.  3′ and 4′ proposed by A. Hagenbuchner 1989: 22–25 is very doubtful. See Torri 2008: 779. 41.  KUB 13.9+ IV 11 (colophon) and see further. 42.  See also Gordin 2012b: 142.

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Table 3.  The Family of Pikku Pikku (grandfather) Tatta (father) Pikku (son, under Anuwanza)

Piḫḫuniya (son, under Anuwanza)

Table 4.  The Team of Angulli and the Team of Zuwa Angulli (son of Palla) brothers Šakkapi Zuwa sons of Uza grandchildren of Mawiri Zuwa Aliḫḫini (son of Šaušgaziti)

these documents mention the same scribe, then we should suppose that his father Anu-šar-ilani had lived in the decades immediately following the reign of Telipinu. It is interesting to study the dynamic of transmission of this craft within a kinship line along several generations. The members of this family are all involved with the scribal art. The same NU.GIŠKIRI6, father of Ḫanikkuili, Ziti, Šaušgaziti and, perhaps, Karunuwa, was a teacher of scribes as well. In the colophon of KBo 48.133 (CTH 670), the scribe Pikku is stated to be a trainee of NU.GIŠKIRI6 (GÁB.ZU.ZU) and to write under the supervision of Anuwanza. The term GÁB.ZU.ZU (Torri 2008: 776; Weeden 2011a: 83–84), may indicate in Ḫattuša a scribe specializing in the redaction of some particular textual categories (compare Gordin 2011: 182). For what concerns us here, this means that NU. GIŠ KIRI6 and his sons were working in Anuwanza’s administration at the same time. In fact the scribe Pikku, that I just mentioned as GÁB.ZU.ZU of NU.GIŠKIRI6, was also working in Anuwanza’s office together with his brother Piḫḫuniya (Table 1 and 3; Marizza 2010: 87). These two brothers were sons of an individual named Tatta and grandchildren of another person named Pikku as well. Thus by looking at the team of Anuwanza we can reconstruct the activity of several families. Many of the scribes who worked under his control were later supervisors and had sons who also worked as scribes in other bureaus. We have the impression that all the members of a specific family were affiliated with a specific official during their service for the state administration as scribes. At the same time we see that several scribes employed in Anuwanza’s team will become one generation later supervisors of other scribes. For example we have the case of Angulli, son of another scribe named Palla, 43 and known also as Lord of Ḫurma in cuneiform sources (Torri 2010b: 389–390). This Angulli worked as copyist under Anuwanza and later became a supervisor. As supervisor he was the controller of the work of two brothers Šakkapi 44 and Zuwa, 45 43. In Torri 2010b: 391, it is proposed that also this Palla may have worked under Anuwanza’s control, as author of an oracular text KBo 13.127+. 44.  KBo 5.11 IV 26–28 (colophon). 45.  KBo 23.97 rev. 21′–22′ (colophon).

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sons of Uza and grandchildren of Mawiri. Zuwa (Table 2), will be the supervisor of Aliḫḫini, a son of Šaušgaziti (Gordin 2010b: 165–166). Of course, not all the scribes involved in the administration of the Lower City were sons of individuals who mainly worked as scribes. 46 We have the case of the already mentioned scribe Ḫapatiwalwi whose father, Tuwattaziti, is called in one colophon LÚA.ZU “physician”. 47 Another scribe of the imperial period, Lurmaziti, the copyist of the Prayer of the king Muwatalli II to the Storm-God of Kummani CTH 382 calls himself A.ZU TUR “young physician” (KBo 11.1; Singer 2002: 81–85). This may indicate that inside a family a core of professions could be transmitted. 48 Archival organization, as far as we know, was regulated by the State (van den Hout 2006: 77–106). A part of the scribal education probably took place in the scriptoria of the city. However we are not really informed about scribal training and the curriculum used to instruct new generations of scribes. There are only a few lexical lists and we do not have exercises 49 or those texts that would have constituted the base of the scribal training (Weeden 2011a: 91–131). According to the fact that related scribes of the same generation (like brothers) but also of different generations (like fathers and sons) cooperated with the same bureau, I would suggest that the elementary training of the scribes was taking place in the family. 50 Only later the young scribes began to work for the state administration, often becoming members of the same administrative center where their brothers or, sometimes, their fathers were already working. 46.  About this topic see already Imparati 2004 (in particular p. 283). 47.  KBo 21.42 VI 4′–6′ (colophon). 48.  About scribes as medical experts see Gordin 2012: 94–98. 49.  However, as I stressed elsewhere, all texts kept in the scriptoria of the capital city may have had multiple functions, among them the training of new generations of scribes. Torri 2009: 208–9. 50.  Unfortunately the lack of private documentation does not allow verification of this hypothesis. It appears however quite reasonable when compared with similar situations in Syria, at Ugarit or at Emar, for example. About the possible relationship between public and private institutions for what concerns the scribal practice, compare Weeden 2011b: 117–18 and 131.

References Archi, A. 1971 The Propaganda of Ḫattušili III. SMEA 14: 185–215. Bawanypeck, D. 2005 Die Rituale der Auguren. THeth 25. Heidelberg: Winter Verlag. Beckman, G. 1983 Mesopotamians and Mesopotamian Learning at Ḫattuša. JCS 35: 97–114. Devecchi, E. 2010 ‘We Are All Descendants of Šuppiluliuma, Great King’. The Aleppo Treaty Reconsidered. WO 40: 1–27. Doğan Alparslan M. 2007 Drei Schreiber, Zwei Könige. Pp. 247–257 in VI Congresso Internazionale di Ittitologia, Roma, 5–9 settembre 2005. SMEA 49. Edited by A. Archi and R. Francia. Roma 2007. Glocker, J. 1997 Das Ritual für den Wettergott von Kuliwišna. Textzeugnisse eines lokalen Kultfestes im Anatolien der Hethiterzeit. Eothen 6. Firenze: LoGisma.

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Gordin, Sh. 2010a A Scriptorium of Mahhu(z)zi MAGNUS.SCRIBA in the Reign of Tutḫaliya IV. Pp. 319– 340 in Acts of the VIIth international Congress of Hittitology. Edited by Y. Hazırlayan, A. Süel. Ankara 2010. 2010b Scriptoria in Late Empire Period Hattusa: The Case of the É.GIŠ.KIN.TI. Pp. 158–177 in Pax Hethitica. Studies on the Hittites and Their Neighbours in Honour of Itamar Singer. StBoT 51. Edited by Y. Cohen, A. Gilan, J.L. Miller. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. 2011 The Tablet and its Scribe. Between Archival and Scribal Spaces in Late Empire Period Ḫattuša. AoF 38: 177–198. 2012 Writing and Scribal Tradition in Late Bronze Age Anatolia. A Study of Scribes and Schools in 13th Century BC Hattusa. Ph.D. dissertation. Freie Universität, Berlin. Görke, S. 2007 Provenienzangaben in hethitischen Ritualeinleitungen–ein jüngeres Phänomen? AoF 34: 204–209. Hagenbuchner, A. 1989 Die Korrespondenz der Hethiter.2. Teil. THeth 16. Heidelberg: Winter Verlag. Hoffner, H. A. jr. 1997 The Laws of the Hittites. Leiden, New York, Köln: Brill. 2009 Letters From the Hittite Kingdom. Atlanta: SBL. Imparati, I. 2004 Auguri e scribi nella società Ittita. Pp.  277–290 in Studi sulla società e sulla religione degli Ittiti. Eothen 12. Edited by. I. Imparati. Firenze: LoGisma. Laroche, E. 1966 Les noms des Hittites. Paris: Kliencksieck. Marizza, M. 2007 Dignitari ittiti del tempo di Tutḫaliya I/II, Arnuwanda I, Tutḫaliya III. Eothen 15. Firenze: Logisma. 2009 Lettere ittite di re e dignitari. Brescia: Paideia 2010 La papponimia nel mondo ittita. Casi accertati e casi presunti. KASKAL 7: 85–97. Miller, J. L. 2004 Studies in the Origins, Development and Interpretation of the Kizzuwatna Rituals. StBoT 46. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Otten, H. 1952 Beiträge zum hethitischen Lexikon. ZA 50: 230–236. Pecchioli Daddi, F. 1982 Mestieri, Professioni e dignità dell’Anatolia ittita. Roma: Edizioni dell’Ateneo. Singer, I. 2002 Hittite Prayers. Atlanta: SBL. 2009 In Hattuša The Royal House Declined–Royal Mortuary Cult in 13th Century Hatti. Pp. 169–191. In Central-North Anatolia in the Hittite Period–New Perspectives in Light of Recent Research. Acts of the International Conference Held at the University of Florence (7–9 February 2007). Studia Asiana 5. Edited by F. Pecchioli, G. Torri, C. Corti. Roma: Herder. Taggar-Cohen, A. 2006 Hittite Priesthood. THeth 26. Heidelberg: Winter Verlag. Torri, G. 2008 The Scribes of the House on the Slope. Pp. 771–782 in VI Congresso Internazionale di Ittitologia, Roma, 5–9 settembre 2005. SMEA 50. Edited by A. Archi and R. Francia. Roma 2008. 2009 The Old Hittite Textual Tradition in the “Haus am Hang”. Pp. 207–222 in Central-North Anatolia in the Hittite Period. New Perspectives in Light of Recent Research. StudAs 5. Edited by F. Pecchioli, G. Torri, C. Corti. Roma: Herder 2009. 2010a Hittite Scribes at Play: The Case of Cuneiform Sign AN. Pp.  317–327 in Investigationes Anatolicae. Gedenkschrift fuer Erich Neu. StBoT 51. Edited by J. Klinger, E. Rieken, Ch. Rüster. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz.

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2010b The Scribal School of the Lower City of Ḫattuša and the Beginning of the Career of Anuwanza, Court Dignitary and Lord of Nerik. Pp. 383–396 in ana turri gimilli. Studi dedicati al padre Werner R. Mayer, S. J. da amici e allievi. Edited by M. Liverani, M. G. Biga. Roma: Università degli Studi di Roma “La Sapienza.” 2011 The Phrase ṬUPPU URUḪatti in Colophons from Ḫattusa and the Work of the Scribe Ḫanik­kuili. AoF 38: 135–44. van den Hout, Th. P. J. 1995a Der Ulmitešub Vertrag. Eine prosopographische Untersuchung. StBoT 38. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. 1995b Tudḫalija IV und die Ikonographie hethitischer Grosskönige des 13. Jhs. BiOr 52: 545–573. 2006 Administration in the Reign of Tutḫaliya IV and the Later Years of the Hittite Empire. Pp.  77–106 in The Life and Times of Ḫattušili III and Tutḫaliya IV–Proceedings of a Symposioum held in Honour of J. De Roos, 12–13 December 2003, Leiden. Edited by Th. van den Hout. Leiden: NINO 2009 Reflections on the Origins and Development of the Hittite Tablet Collections in Ḫattuša and Their Consequences for the Rise of Hittite Literacy. Pp. 71–96 in Central-North Anatolia in the Hittite Period. New Perspectives in Light of Recent Research. StudAs 5. Edited by F. Pecchioli, G. Torri, C. Corti. Roma: Herder 2009. von Schuler, E. 1966 Gesellschaft.B. Bein den Hethitern. RlA III/4. Pp. 236–243. Weeden, M. 2011a Hittite Logograms and Hittite Scholarship. StBoT 54. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. 2011b Hittite Scribal Schools Outside of Ḫattuša?. AoF 38: 116–134. Werner, E. 1967 Hethitische Gerichtsprotokolle. StBoT 4. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Wilhelm, G. 2005 Zur Datierung der älteren hethitischen Landschenkungsurkunden. AoF 35: 272–279.

The Transmission of Offices, Professions, and Crafts within the Family in the Neo-Assyrian Period Heather D. Baker Vienna

1. Introduction In her review of David Schloen’s book on patrimonial society in Ugarit and the Ancient Near East, Elizabeth Stone commented: “. . . evidence that sons followed in their father’s footsteps—a tendency attested at all times and places—is not necessarily proof that professions were solely hereditary” (Stone 2003: 123). The NeoAssyrian period is no exception to this general rule that we can find evidence for father-to-son transmission in pretty much any society one cares to mention. The compelling question then is not whether or not it happened—it certainly did—but among which sectors of society, and under which conditions? Can we build up a distinctive profile revealing how the phenomenon operated at different levels of NeoAssyrian society, one that can be used as a benchmark for comparing it with other ancient societies? We might also bear in mind that the question of how access to office was moderated is important for determining the extent to which a pre-modern bureaucracy functioned along “rational” lines, based on qualities such as competence, experience and diligence, or rather in a patrimonial manner, with advancement resting more on family and patronage. 1 That is to say, did career advancement rest on family and favouritism, or was the system rather designed to promote those of proven competence? In practice, a combination of the two is to be expected. The principle of father-to-son transmission, when it is rigidly enforced, is a barrier to social mobility since it implies that the occupation open to an individual is determined already at the time of birth. In the case of higher-ranking offices and professions, this can be a way of protecting the privileges of a minority, by excluding others who may be equal in ability but who were not born into the right social group. Thus it may be a significant factor in the maintenance and reproduction of the élite. Author’s note:  This study was carried out within the framework of the research project “Royal Institutional Households in First Millennium bc Mesopotamia” which is being led by the author at the University of Vienna. The project is funded by the Austrian Science Fund (FWF, grant S 10802-G18) as part of the National Research Network “Imperium and Officium: Comparative Studies in Ancient Bureaucracy and Officialdom.” 1.  According to the distinctions made by Max Weber in discussing the characteristics of modern bureaucracy and contrasting them with patriarchal and patrimonial modes of domination (Weber 1978: 956–1069).

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At certain times in history, the rulers of pre-modern societies have taken deliberate measures to mitigate the undesirable effects of advancement based on birth rather than aptitude. In Imperial China, for example, the imperial examination was designed to select the best officials for the state bureaucracy. 2 It created a class of scholar-bureaucrats who gained office primarily based on their own merits. This system was remarkably long-lived, lasting from c. 605 AD through to its abolition in 1904, and it is said to have influenced the adoption of civil service exams in England and other countries. 3 Before this exam system came into being, individuals recommended for office were mainly of an aristocratic background. Although the system succeeded in creating a class of professional bureaucrats, it was no great social leveller: only wealthy families had the means to educate their sons to the level required to pass the examinations, which over the centuries became progressively more difficult and competitive. 4 We might also cite the case of Russia under Peter the Great, whose reforms—especially the Table of Ranks—meant that individuals could rise up the hierarchy by application and merit, whereas previously highranking positions had been hereditary and were the preserve of the nobility. 5 Both of these examples indicate that the disadvantages of nepotism in public life were well understood by the proponents of reform. In the case of Assyria we lack written evidence for comparably systematic and wide-ranging reforms conducted with the overt aim of opening up offices that were traditionally the preserve of the élite. This need not mean, however, that no attempt was ever made to “upgrade” elements of the administration by instilling a greater degree of professionalism. According to Postgate (1979: 202), in the Neo-Assyrian period “much of the fiscal and administrative work of the government was carried out by a ‘civil service’ with an existence quite distinct from family or firm.” He contrasts this state of affairs with the Middle Assyrian kingdom of the 13th century, when government was largely in the hands of “houses.” This chronological development suggests a trend away from more a more “patrimonial” mode of domination, with a corresponding decline in the influence of élite households. Indeed, attempts to check the power of the traditional élite appear to have been made, for example, by promoting eunuchs to high office, 6 or (in the 7th century b.c.) by expanding both the size of the royal household and its administrative rôle. 7 It may have been a (perhaps unintended?) consequence of such measures that greater attention was paid to suitability for office when appointments were made.

2.  The Nature of the Sources On the one hand, bearing in mind the recent completion of The Prosopography of the Neo-Assyrian Empire, 8 as well as the fact that numerous letters, documents 2.  See, e.g., Elman 2000. 3.  Têng 1943. 4.  An alternative means of advancement for the less wealthy was to become (or turn a son into) a eunuch and gain employment in the imperial household (Dettenhofer 2009: 86). 5.  See Anderson 1970 for an overview of Peter the Great’s reforms. 6.  Cf. Dettenhofer 2009: 97–89 on the power and influence of eunuchs at the Chinese court and the way they rivalled the office-holding ruling class (and were much despised by its members). 7.  See Groß, this volume, pp. 255ff. 8.  Radner (ed.) 1998; 1999; Baker (ed.) 2000; 2001; 2002; 2011.

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and inscriptions are available in modern editions, we have ample resources at our disposal for studying the phenomenon of father-to-son transmission based on the Neo-Assyrian sources. On the other hand, unfortunately the available material is remarkably intractable. In the case of those offices normally occupied by a single individual at one time, the documentation tends not to be sufficiently densely spread in its coverage to enable us to draw up a continuous sequence of office-holders. Moreover, even when we do have a relatively close sequence, we generally have no information at all about family background, so that it is usually impossible to determine whether or not an office-holder was the son of his predecessor. This latter scenario holds true both for those offices held by a single individual at once, and also for those functions fulfilled by a collective of specialists. The following represents a typical problematic case: Šamaš-abū’a, horse trainer =? Šamaš-abū’a, father of horse trainer Bēl-aḫḫēšu

SAA 14 181: 2 (7th c.) SAA 14 27: 2 (636* b.c.)

It seems reasonable to suppose that the horse trainer Šamaš-abū’a is identical with the Šamaš-abū’a who is attested as the father of the horse-trainer Bēl-aḫḫēšu, but independent confirmation is lacking and all that can be said about the respective dates is that they are not incompatible with this identification. In general, then, our evidence is of an intermittent, anecdotal nature compared with that from Babylonia where the documentation is frequently both abundant and dense. Moreover, Babylonian documents normally give both the father’s name and the family name of the invidual; naturally, this helps enormously in distinguishing between individuals with the same name. It is clear that certain families could dominate municipal government, 9 and that certain offices and professions within the temple administration tended to be passed on within the family. 10 To examine this question using the Neo-Assyrian sources we have rather to try to elucidate principles based on much more scattered pieces of often circumstantial evidence.

3.  Categories of Personnel Let us begin at the very top.  The fact that Assyrian kingship was retained within the same family for over a millennium has been attributed by Radner to a mode of succession that did not insist on passing the throne from father to eldest son (or even to a son). 11 Rather, any male relative of the king who was sound in body and mind was eligible to be chosen by the ruler as his heir. Thus the evident pitfalls of a more rigid mode of succession could be avoided, and suitability for office could form one of the criteria for selection. Moreover, considerable measures were taken to ensure that the designated crown prince received adequate training for his future rôle. 12 We also have a certain amount of evidence for the installation of the king’s close relatives in high offices. It is well known, for example, that Sargon II installed

9.  As in the case of Borsippa; see Frame 1984. 10.  E.g. the Eanna temple at Uruk (Kümmel 1979) and the Ebabbar at Sippar (Bongenaar 1997). 11.  Radner 2003: 166. 12.  On the education of Neo-Assyrian princes see Zamazalová 2011, especially the discussion of the crown prince on pp. 320–3.

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his brother Sîn-aḫu-uṣur in the office of sukkalmaḫḫu, 13 and Assurbanipal’s brother Aššur-mukīn-palē’a was made a high priest. 14 Outside of the king’s own family circle, we might distinguish five broad categories of personnel to be examined from the point of view of the prevalence of fatherto-son transmission and its modes of operation: (1) the king’s scribes and scholars; (2) priests; (3) officials of all ranks (bearing in mind possible differences in modes of transmission of office according to rank/status); (4) the military, and (5) craftsmen and other specialist workers. The first two categories, the scribes and scholars and the priests, have already received ample attention from modern scholars and the circumstances surrounding the transmission of their skills are sufficiently well known that we need only to summarise previous findings for the sake of rounding out the picture.

3.1.  The King’s Scribes and Scholars It is clear that among learned circles, specialised professions were frequently passed down from father to son. This is certainly the case with the king’s scribes and scholars: a number of scribal/scholarly families are rather well known, having been subjected to detailed study in recent years. In some cases the colophons appended to library tablets permit the reconstruction of extensive genealogies spanning several generations, as with the tablets from the library excavated in a private house at Assur that was apparently occupied by a family of exorcists. 15 Similarly, the lineage of the scribe Nabû-zuqup-kēnu can be traced from the early 9th century b.c. down to the reign of Esarhaddon. 16 The relationship between the king and his scholars/ advisors has been characterised as a patron/client one. 17 Within these closed family circles, competence was, of course, a requirement, but one’s father was the ideal teacher: the diviner Tabnî writes a letter (SAA 10 182) to the king complaining that two others have received preferential treatment, although they are less well qualified; he learned his craft from his father, whereas they have only gained their knowledge from non-canonical tablets. We may cite also the well-known anonymous Neo-Assyrian letter, SAA 16 65, in which Parruṭu, a goldsmith attached to the queen’s household, is denounced for having procured unauthorised tuition for his son, evidently to enhance the son’s career prospects. He is said “like the king and the crown prince” to have bought a Babylonian and installed him in his house to instruct his son in exorcism, extispicy and astronomy. The son in question may be identified with Nabû-sagib, sender of the letter SAA 16 81, who actually calls himself “son of the goldsmith Parruṭu of the queen’s household.” In their discussion of SAA 16 65, Luukko and Van Buylaere (2002: xxxv–xxxviii) suggest identifying the son of Parruṭu with a known exorcist called Nabû-sagib, and they consider whether or not the son of a goldsmith could realistically have become an exorcist. They do not rule out the possibility, pointing out that normally the scholarly professions were “strictly tied to family traditions” but that Nabû-sagib may have been especially privileged as a protégé of the queen (or queen mother). However, the fact that 13.  See Mattila 2000: 129; Niederreiter 2005. 14. For the remaining very scanty evidence for members of the royal family holding offices, see Mattila 2000: 129. 15.  See the recent study of Maul 2010. 16.  See PNA 2/II 912–913 s. v. Nabû-zuqup-kēnu. 17.  Westbrook 2005: 222–3, followed by Radner 2011: 363–5.

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Parruṭu was denounced serves to emphasise that the case was an unusual one, and was perceived as a transgression.

3.2. Priests In the case of the priests and those temple craftsmen who were admitted to the inner parts of the temple, the practice of father-to-son transmission is also rather well established. Löhnert (2007: 274) comments: “And for both professional categories the emerging of family dynasties—with the father passing his profession and status on to his son—is well documented.” She also cites the letter SAA 10 96 which mentions the case of a son appointed to succeed his deceased father, a priest. This parallels the Neo-Babylonian evidence whereby family dynasties are very well attested among the temple personnel. 18 In fact, descent is known to have been a crucial factor in determining whether an individual was suitable to be consecrated for the priesthood. 19

3.3. Officials The category “officialdom” is a broad one, encompassing a wide range of functionaries from the lowest-ranking to the highest officials of the land, the so-called “magnates” and the provincial governors. In the light of this we should not expect the same practices to be evidenced right across the status spectrum, but should rather make distinctions where possible between different kinds of officials for the sake of our analysis. At the highest levels, we know that eunuchs could be appointed as a means of checking the formation of family dynasties that might amass undue power and influence. Governorships in particular were not hereditary, but rather eunuchs were preferred for these positions (Radner 2003: 165), at least from the reign of Tiglath-pileser III on. In a recent study Radner (in press) stresses that these high offices were awarded on merit rather than because of family ties. On the other hand Parpola, in an article entitled “The Neo-Assyrian Ruling Class,” has recently highlighted evidence for what he considers to be the remarkable continuity of the ruling class of the Empire, with many important offices passing from father to son in the same family line (Parpola 2007: 258). It is worth considering how these two scholars have come to arrive at what seem to be mutually contradictory positions on this matter. Part of the answer surely lies in the problematic nature of the sources, to which I have already referred. But more importantly, it seems to me that these two positions are not so contradictory as they might seem at first sight, because they both approach the issue from different perspectives. Radner is referring specifically to the high administrative officials, whereas Parpola, on the other hand, includes in his study of the ruling class not only the administrative officials but also the priests and scholars whom Radner classifies as “clients.” Once these two differing approaches to categorisation are taken into account, then the apparent contradiction carries less force and their viewpoints can be reconciled. In any case, Radner’s idea that high office was awarded irrespective of family ties has to be qualified to some extent: in order to rise through the ranks in such a system, a would-be official had in the first place to “get a foot on the ladder,” and 18.  See, e.g., Kümmel 1979 (Uruk); Frame 1984 (Borsippa); Bongenaar 1997 (Sippar). 19.  Waerzeggers and Jursa 2008: 4–5, 10–15.

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at this initial stage family and/or other connections would have been vital. 20 So, for example, we find instances in the royal correspondence of fathers commending their sons for royal service, clearly because membership of the king’s entourage was perceived as an important means of advancement. There could have been no guarantee that a son placed in such a position would rise to high office, but he must have stood a better chance of doing so than one who remained entirely outside of the circle of power, both literally and figuratively speaking. At a lower level in the administration, father-to-son transmission may have been more prevalent, but again the evidence is largely anecdotal. Šumāia, sender of the letter SAA 16 34, whose office is unknown, apparently considered himself responsible for the work formerly done by his now deceased father; he asked the crown prince to permit him to continue his father’s work in Kalhu, stressing also the loyal service of his own grandfather.

3.4.  The Military The Assyrian military is documented especially in administrative texts such as the so-called ‘Horse Lists’ from Kalhu dated in the reign of Sargon II. 21 In addition to these sources, individual members who were connected with the royal court are well represented among the legal documents from Kuyunjik. These include men such as Kakkullānu, cohort commander of the crown prince, and the royal charioteer Rēmanni-Adad. 22 Once again we face the difficulty that details of family background are scarcely ever given in the texts. It is likely that father-to-son transmission played a significant rôle (cf. the case of SAA 14 181 and 27 cited above, section 2), but its prevalence is difficult to demonstrate. Again, it may have differed according to rank, with the highest positions being dominated by eunuchs.

3.5. Craftsmen A forthcoming index volume to The Prosopography of the Neo-Assyrian Empire will contain registers of all named craftsmen, office-holders and professionals, thereby greatly facilitating the study of individual crafts and professions. 23 This will make it possible to find entire listings of particular categories of workers according to personal name (with a cross-reference to PNA), date, place and so on. Our processing of this material so far confirms the impression that direct, unequivocal evidence for father-to-son transmission is really uncommon. Much of our evidence is of a rather fragmentary, suggestive character. In spite of these difficulties, it is clear that learning one’s father’s trade would have provided a relatively easy way of securing a living. 24 It would also ensure that such additional benefits as accrued by virtue of practising that particular craft or profession were retained within the family. 20.  Mattila’s discussion of relatives of magnates who also held high office occupies less than half a page (Mattila 2000: 130). However, this may well have more to do with the deficiency of the sources rather than the actual situation. She also discusses further aspects of the background and training of the highest officials (pp. 130–136). 21.  See Dezső 2006 for a detailed study of these texts. 22.  PNA 2/I 596–7 (Kakkullānu 7); PNA 3/I 1038–41 (Rēmanni-Adad 4). 23.  Baker forthcoming (a). 24.  Compare, for example, Solon of Athens who reportedly relieved a son of the obligation to support his father if his father had failed to teach him any profession: “. . . he. . . enacted a law that no son who had not been taught a trade should be compelled to support his father. . .” (Plutarch, Lives).

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Given the nature of the sources at our disposal, a more fruitful approach may be to examine those tightly-knit urban communities of workers that we know to have existed, especially in Assur. There we can detect entire families that specialised in particular occupations, especially among the communities of goldsmiths, bakers, oilpressers and ḫundurāius, a profession whose interpretation remains uncertain. 25According to Radner’s study of 1999, we are dealing with specialist associations attached to the temple, with a hierarchichal structure, among whom family membership and profession were closely connected and who shared a strong group identity (Radner 1999: 31). In one text the goldsmiths are collectively known by the Akkadian term qinnu, for which Radner proposes a translation “Zunft.” 26 Although she notes in passing that the word when it occurs in Neo-Assyrian is traditionally translated “Nest; Familie,” she does not comment directly on the implications of this association of meanings. It seems clear that the use of the word qinnu in this context strengthens her argument that we are dealing with a collective in which the extended family played a decisive rôle. 27 A similar point is made by Fales and Jakob-Rost (1991: 22) in relation to the ḫundurāius of Assur when they speak of “cases of common residence, property, and activity” which may be detected among the tablets of the archives N9 and N10. In the case of the ḫundurāius we know that we are dealing with a strong family tradition—as exemplified by the family of Mudammiq-Aššur—and we also know that the community of ḫundurāius owned land jointly within the city of Assur. 28 It seems likely that such communal land holding would increase the tendency for a craft to be passed on within the family, enabling the family to maintain access to valuable resources; thus it would be advantageous to fathers if their sons continued in the same line of work. In this context it is worth noting that we have textual references to a number of rural settlements associated with a wide range of collectives of craftsmen, namely: bakers; bow makers; brewers; donkey-drivers; fullers; gardeners; goldsmiths; hatters; hoisters; horse trainers; merchants; plumbers; potters; shepherds; smiths, and temple-enterers. I have suggested elsewhere that these toponyms represent settlements where land was originally allocated to collectives of city-based craftsmen or workers specialising in the occupation denoted by the toponym. 29 The details provided by some of the relevant documents suggest that we are dealing with settlements in the hinterland of the cities of the Neo-Assyrian heartland, including Nineveh and Kalhu. If this suggestion is correct then it means that without question these crafts were, at one time, recognised by the state as having a collective identity, and that on this basis they were integrated into the state administration. Moreover, the earliest attestations indicate that this phenomenon goes back to at least the later 9th century b.c., in the reign of Shalmaneser III. So this evidence for a collective identity of craftsmen and specialists appears to prefigure the rather better known evidence for associations of craftsmen from the 7th century, as discussed by Radner and others (see above). We are dealing with the very kinds of crafts and professions that might be expected to be passed down from 25.  For a summary of the various proposals see Radner 1999: 30 n. 91. 26.  Radner 1999: 25–33 (see p. 25 on the reference to qinnu gabbi ša ṣarrāpē, “the entire collective of goldsmiths”). 27.  CAD Q 257 cites the meanings “family, clan, kinsman.” 28.  See PNA 2/II 760–1 s. v. Mudammiq-Aššūr 7. 29.  This phenomenon, and the evidence for it, is discussed in Baker forthcoming (b).

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father to son, and the evidence for communal land holdings increases the likelihood that we are dealing with a strong family tradition within these particular specialised occupations.

Conclusions Ideally we ought to investigate each craft, office or profession on its own terms in order to determine whether father-to-son transmission was the norm. In practice this is difficult owing to the nature of the evidence and its sparsity, and it is futile to attempt any kind of statistical approach. I have attempted instead to present a rather more general survey in the hope of contextualising the information available to us for this phenomenon in the Neo-Assyrian period.

References Anderson, M. S. 1970 Russia under Peter the Great and the Changed Relations of East and West. Pp. 716–740 in The New Cambridge Modern History, Volume 6. The Rise of Great Britain and Russia 1688–1715/25. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Baker, H. D. ed. 2000–2011  The Prosopography of the Neo-Assyrian Empire, 2/I: Ḫ-K (2000); 2/II: L-N (2001); 3/I: P-Ṣ (2002); 3/II: Š-Z (2011). Helsinki: The Neo-Assyrian Text Corpus Project. Baker, H. D. Forthcoming (a)  Neo-Assyrian Specialists. Crafts, Offices, and other Professional Designations. The Prosopography of the Neo-Assyrian Empire 4/I: Professions Index. Helsinki: The Neo-Assyrian Text Corpus Project. Forthcoming (b)  Craftsmen and Specialists, their Land Holdings and the Neo-Assyrian State. In Proceedings of the ESF Exploratory Workshop “Dynamics of Production and Economic Interaction in the Near East in the First Half of the First Millennium b.c.” held in Lille, France, 28–30 June 2011. Edited by J. C. Moreno García. Bongenaar, A. C. V. M. 1997 The Neo-Babylonian Ebabbar Temple at Sippar: Its Administration and Its Prosopography. PIHANS 80: Istanbul. Dettenhofer, M. H. 2009 Eunuchs, Women, and Imperial Courts. Pp.  83–99 in Rome and China. Comparative Perspectives on Ancient World Empires (Oxford Studies in Early Empires). Edited by W. Scheidel. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Dezső, T. 2006 Reconstruction of the Assyrian Army of Sargon II (721–705 b.c.) Based on the Nimrud Horse Lists. State Archives of Assyria Bulletin 15: 93–140. Elman, B. A. 2000 A Cultural History of Civil Examinations in Late Imperial China. 1st edition. Berkeley: University of California Press. Fales, F. M., and Jakob-Rost, L. 1991 Neo-Assyrian Texts from Assur. Private Archives in the Vorderasiatisches Museum of Berlin, Part 1. State Archives of Assyria Bulletin 5/1–2: 1–157. Frame, G. 1984 The First Families of Borsippa During the Early Neo-Babylonian Period. Journal of Cuneiform Studies 36: 67–80. Kümmel, H. M. 1979 Familie, Beruf und Amt im Spätbabylonischen Uruk. Berlin: Mann.

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Löhnert, A. 2007 The Installation of Priests According to Neo-Assyrian Documents. State Archives of Assyria Bulletin 16: 273–286. Luukko, M., and Van Buylaere, G. 2002 The Political Correspondence of Esarhaddon. State Archives of Assyria 16. Helsinki: Helsinki University Press. Mattila, R. 2000 The King’s Magnates. A Study of the Highest Officials of the Neo-Assyrian Empire. State Archives of Assyria Studies 11. Helsinki: The Neo-Assyrian Text Corpus Project. Maul, S. M. 2010 Die Tontafelbibliothek aus dem Sogenannten ‘Haus des Beschwörungspriesters’. Pp. 189– 228 in Assur-Forschungen. Arbeiten aus der Forschungsstelle “Edition Literarischer Keilschrifttexte aus Assur” der Heidelberger Akademie der Wissenschaften. Edited by S. M. Maul and N. P. Heeßel. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Niederreiter, Z. 2005 L’insigne de pouvoir et le sceau du Grand Vizier Sîn-ah-uṣur (les symboles personnels d’un haut-dignitaire de Sargon II). RA 99: 57–76. Parpola, S. 2007 The Neo-Assyrian Ruling Class. Pp. 257–274 in Studien zu Ritual und Sozialgeschichte im alten Orient / Studies on Ritual and Society in the Ancient Near East. Tartuer Symposien 1998–2004. Edited by T. R. Kämmerer. Berlin/New York: Walter de Gruyter. Postgate, J. N. 1979 The Economic Structure of the Assyrian Empire. Pp. 193–221 in Power and Propaganda: A Symposium on Ancient Empires. Mesopotamia 7. Edited by M. T. Larsen. Copenhagen: Akademisk Vorlag. Radner, K. ed. 1998–99  The Prosopography of the Neo-Assyrian Empire, 1/I: A (1998); 1/I: B-G (1999). Helsinki: The Neo-Assyrian Text Corpus Project. Radner, K. 1999 Ein neuassyrisches Privatarchiv der Tempelgoldschmiede von Assur. Studien zu den Assur-Texten 1. Saarbrücken: Saarbrücker Druckerei und Verlag. 2003 The Trials of Esarhaddon: the Conspiracy of 670 b.c.. Pp. 165–184 in Assur und sein Umland. ISIMU 6. Edited by P. A. Miglus and J. M. Cordoba. Madrid. 2011 Royal Decision-Making: Kings, Magnates, and Scholars. Pp.  358–379 in The Oxford Handbook of Cuneiform Culture. Edited by K.  Radner and E.  Robson. Oxford: Oxford University Press. In press  Royal Pen Pals. The Kings of Assyria in Correspondence with Officials, Clients and Total Strangers (8th and 7th centuries b.c.). In Official Epistolography and the Language(s) of Power. Proceedings of the 1st International Conference of the NFN Imperium and Officium. Edited by L. Reinfandt and S. Tost. Vienna. Stone, E. C. 2003 Review of The House of the Father as Fact and Symbol: Patrimonialism in Ugarit and the Ancient Near East, by J. David Schloen, 2001. Studies in the Archaeology and History of the Levant 2. Cambridge (MA): Harvard Semitic Museum in Assocation with Eisenbrauns. Cambridge Archaeological Journal 13/1: 121–124. Têng, S. 1943 Chinese Influence on the Western Examination System. Harvard Journal of Asiatic Studies 7: 267–312. Waerzeggers, C., and Jursa, M. 2008 On the Initiation of Babylonian Priests. Zeitschrift für Altorientalische und Biblische Rechtsgeschichte 14: 1–38. Westbrook, R. 2005 Patronage in the Ancient Near East. JESHO 48/2: 210–233.

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Zamazalová, S. 2011 The Education of Neo-Assyrian Princes. Pp. 313–330 in The Oxford Handbook of Cuneiform Culture. Edited by K. Radner and E. Robson. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Families, Officialdom, and Families of Royal Officials in Chaldean and Achaemenid Babylonia M. Jursa Vienna

For the Late Babylonian period, the link between family and profession can be considered a given. Prosopographic research has brought to light an abundance of material that allows the identification of families that specialize in certain trades and occupations and pass them on to subsequent generations. 1 This is so in the case of rich entrepreneurial families who invest in land, best represented by the Egibis from Babylon, just as in the case of humble craftsmen such as the Dullupu, a family of smiths, likewise from Babylon. 2 The clearest link between occupation and family is found with the priestly families, where prebend ownership and the right of officiate in the cult and thus draw a stipend from the temple depended on descent in the male line from an initiated priest (Waerzeggers 2010). Of course there are exceptions: there are cases of changes in profession or occupation resulting in social mobility, upwards or downwards (Jursa 2010a: 59, 200, 766), but in general the pattern is extremely regular and needs no further confirmation: in the normal order of things, sons followed their fathers in their professions and continued their business. This ‘traditional’ or conservative approach to professional life ties in well with other features of Late Babylonian socio-economic institutions that characterize the deep structure of Babylonian urban society. Urban Babylonians kept themselves segregated, rigorously so in marriage and lineage and less distinctly, but still in a noticeable fashion, in economic interchange, from the surrounding Aramean part of society (Zadok 2003: 484). They allotted paramount importance to the family estate, the bīt abi, whose preservation in all its aspects was the principal goal of the traditional household economy (Waerzeggers 2010: 81–90), and displayed a strong tendency towards controlling family lineages through group-endogamous marriage Author’s note:  This paper is based on research conducted under the auspices of a project entitled “Imperium and Officium” funded by the Fonds zur Förderung der Wissenschaftlichen Forschung (Vienna). My thanks are due to my collaborators in this project, J. Hackl and K. Wagensonner. 1.  The most recent systematic invstigation of these issues can be found in Nielsen 2011, which focusses on the Early Neo-Babylonian period. The material from the long sixth century is richer by far than Nielsen’s sources and permits a more nuanced approach. In fact the sheer abundance of the material has so far precluded scholars from producing a comprehensive synthesis on the basic structures of Late Babylonian urban society, even though the bibliography of pertinent studies is rich. Loci classici: Kümmel 1979 for Uruk and Bongenaar 1997 for Sippar. 2.  Basic bibliography for the archives mentioned in this paper, as well as a survey of their contents and structure, can be found in Jursa 2005. Jursa 2010 presents a comprehensive treatment of the economic development of the period.

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(Waerzeggers 2010: 94–97). This is true on the upper levels of society as well as on the lower levels: priests marry the daughters of other priests, nearly never outsiders; and texts exist in which female širkatu-temple serfs—possibly, but not necessarily prostitutes—are forbidden to have sexual contact with men who are not from their city and/or who are not Babylonians, but Arameans or Arabs, while other texts prohibit sexual contact between male, but unemancipated Babylonians and women of Aramean descent. 3 In short, Late Babylonian urban society was a strongly self-enclosed community that placed a very high value on preserving the social and economic status quo, which implied a tendency towards excluding outsiders as far as possible. The present paper investigates to which degree this pattern holds true also for the connection between family descent and office-holding in the area of royal or city administration: do certain offices remain in the hands of certain families, or is it at least possible to demonstrate the existence of families with a tradition of office-holding, possibly on different levels of the administration? Here, the type of office and the branch of the administration concerned need to be distinguished: temple administrations, local or city administrations, and representatives of the central government, the crown. (We will not address the organs of tribal self-government of the Chaldean and Aramean parts of the population.) We are best informed about temple administrations. These were bi-polar institutions, in which descendants of local priestly families worked side by side with representatives of the central government. 4 The latter are typically designated as qīpu ša Temple x “(royal) commissioner for temple x,” or as ša rēš šarri bēl piqitti ša Temple x “courtier, the supervisor of temple x.” While both groups were dependent on royal approval, the local background of the priests and their origin in certain families was a precondition for their access to office: previous research has established this fact beyond any possible doubt (e.g., Bongenaar 1997, Kümmel 1979; Kleber 2008: 5–52; Waerzeggers 2010: 33–76, Waerzeggers in press). On the other hand, the background of the royal officials working in the temple sphere is less clear, they are very rarely even given patronymics. They will be discussed in more detail below. The highest representatives of city administration that are documented with any regularity in the sources are the ‘city governors,’ the šākin ṭēmis. These officials shared the power with the bishops (šatammu) in the large cities, such as Uruk, Cutha or Babylon, whereas small cities such as Sippar or Larsa were governed by a chief priest (šangû) without a šākin ṭēmi, but perhaps jointly with a mayor, ḫazannu (see, e.g., Kümmel 1979; Bongenaar 1997: 6 note 12; Jursa 1996; Waerzeggers 2010: 45). The šākin ṭēmis normally came from prominent local families and thus had the same social background as the chief priests and bishops. There are some exceptions and special cases however, which will be discussed below. Finally, the royal officials proper: high palace officials, royal scribes, royal judges, and the backbone of the central administration, the courtiers (ša rēši), men who were attached to the royal household proper, as ša rēš šarri, or to that of high offici3.  E.g., YOS 7, 56, 92; Cyr. 307; see Ragen 2006: 580–588. 4.  This structure existed already under the Assyrian domination. Thus, the Eanna temple of Uruk was headed by the triad of ‘bishop’ (šatammu), royal commissioner (qīpu) and chief scribe (ṭupšar bīt ili) already under Esarhaddon (SAA 10, 349; see also, e.g., SAA 10, 352). See in general Frame 1992: 228–232; 269–283.

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als, in which case they are then designated as the ša rēšis of the official in question. 5 The study of the royal administration is unfortunately hampered by the lack of royal archives; what we see is only the image of the royal administration as it appears in temple archives and, to a lesser extent, in private archives. 6 Even so it is clear that from a social and ethno-linguistic view-point, the royal administration had a different setting than city and temple administration. In the bilingual environment of Babylonia in the sixth and later centuries, the crown was far more open to the use of Aramaic than the temple administrations or the Babylonian urban bourgeoisie. The Aramaic scribes (sēpiru) that appear in the documentation with some frequency from the reign of Nebuchadnezzar onwards are overwhelmingly employed by the crown; in the Persian period, royal Aramaic scribes are even obligatory members of the board of temple administrators (Jursa 2012). There is also much evidence for courtiers (ša rēši) and fifth-century chamberlains (ustarbaru) of foreign extraction: some are Arameans or generally West Semites, a significant number is of Egyptian extraction, especially after the Persian conquest (Hackl and Jursa [in press]), and yet others bear names that resist etymological explanation. Some of the foreign courtiers bear Babylonian names; others have double names, a Babylonian and a foreign one. The wide-spread habit of assuming ‘Beamtennamen’ and double names may in fact mask the non-Babylonian origin of many a courtier bearing an unexceptional Babylonian name. In any case, it is certain that the royal establishment did not share the self-enclosed nature of Babylonian urban society and especially the temple communities. It was ethnically and linguistically far more diverse, and probably there was more social mobility than in other spheres of society. What can be said about families of officials in the light of this? We begin with the courtiers, the ša rēšis, the only category of royal officials who are attested in sufficient numbers so that they can be treated as a group rather than as individuals. A commentary to the omen series Šumma Izbu probably from Hellenistic Uruk contains the following explanation: “‘Courtier’ (lit.: ‘son of the palace’) (means) ša rēši (‘courtier’) because as a child [he was summo]ned [to the palace] (and) did not return to (his) father” (dumu é.gal // šá re-eš ina lìb-bi šá ṣe-eḫ-ru-ma; [a-na é.gal ša-s]u-ú ana a-bi la i-tu-ru). This is an explicit textual confirmation of the usual explanation given for the existence of a body of courtiers such as the ša rēšis: these were men who had been taken out of their family contexts as children and had grown up in the palace, thereby developing ties of loyalty with the king and the royal family while having to renounce the family connections of their own (De Zorzi and Jursa 2011). This model is effective irrespective of whether or not one considers the ša rēšis to have been eunuchs or not: suffice it to say that there is no Babylonian confirmation for this thesis, whatever the Assyrian sources might say (Jursa 2011a; Pirngruber 2011, Radner 2011: 359–360). Does it follow from this that we have to reckon with a class of deracinated professionals of administration who owed what privileges they had to the king and thus were dedicated to serve him but were not expected, and perhaps even unable, to create ties beyond the palace establishment? The naming customs in administrative and legal documents support this assumption to some extent: while an ordinary Ba5.  In the later Achaemenid period, the role of the ša rēši was mostly taken by the ustarbaru, the “chamberlains” (Jursa 2011a: 167–170). 6.  On royal officials in Babylonia, especially during the time of the Neo-Babylonian empire, see, e.g., Beaulieu 2002, Vanderhooft 1999, Jursa 2010b, 2011a, 2012, and 2014.

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bylonian needed to be named with his patronymic and, if applicable, with his family name to be fully defined from a legal point of view, for a courtier his own name and the title were sufficient: there was no legal need for further details. The presence of foreigners among the ša rēšis, which may actually be more common than it seems owing to the custom of taking second, Babylonian names, may be considered an additional confirmation. Note for instance, from Borsippa: “Mašemūn, son of Sa-x-tukku, the royal courtier, whose name is Iddin-Nabû” (Ima-še?-e?-mu-nu, son of sa-⸢x⸣-tu-uk-ku ša-r[ēš šarri] ša Iddin-Nabû šumšu: BM 25662, ca. 28 Dar).

However, as in this case, we do have in fact a number of courtiers who are named with their patronymics, which would seem to contradict the thesis that they were necessarily cut off entirely from their family ties. Some further examples: Adad-šarru-[. . .], son of Šarru-rūṣūˀa, ša rēš šarri (Nbk. 24, 31 Nbk; Bongenaar 1997: 108) Libluṭ, son of Bēl-ḫussanni, ša rēš šarri ša ina muḫḫi quppi ša šarri (Kümmel 1979: 145; reign of Nabonidus)

Strikingly, no single ša rēši bears a family name: these men clearly did not come from the well-established Babylonian clans that made up the upper strata of urban society. Several patronymics are Aramaic or at least West Semitic, thereby bearing out the non-Babylonian origin of these courtiers. Examples: Šarru-dūru, Ša-rēš-šarri, son of ˁEdrā (Aram.), TCL 13, 193, 16 Dar (Susa) Nargia ša rēš šarri, son of Ḫanūnu (West Sem.), Cyr. 312, 8 Cyr (Babylon)

And there is more evidence about the families of ša rēšis. A trial record from Babylon reports that a courtier summoned another courtier who held the important office of ša-muḫḫi-bītāni “supervisor of an inner part of the palace” before a court of law formed by high-ranking royal judicial officers. The plaintiff maintained that the šamuḫḫi-bītāni and a member of his household had married the sister of the latter to the son of the plaintiff without the father’s consent. The marriage contract was voided and the woman was threatened with enslavement in case she continued to frequent the courtier’s son. 7 Clearly the normal rules of a patrimonial Babylonian or West Semitic society were in effect with regard to this courtier and his control over his family. Seen in this light it is suggestive that we know of at least one ša rēši whose son was a ša rēš šarri himself: Mušēzib-Bēl ša rēš šarri, son of Nabû-ahhē-šullim ša rēši, CT 56, 610, 6 Nbn (Sippar) 8

This Mušēzib-Bēl was an important, or in any case a relatively rich official: he was able to gift a slave to the Ebabbar temple, a sign of considerable affluence. As he had followed his father in his profession, it would seem that the family was prospering in royal service. An analogous interpretation can be suggested for a case from Uruk. Tattannu māršu ša Nabû-šarru-uṣur ša-rēš šarri, ROMCT 2, 5, 6 Cyr (Uruk)

7.  Cyr. 311 & 312, 8 Cyr; Joannès 2000: 206–207. 8.  Bongenaar 1997: 110. The same name is also attested without filiation in CT 55, 727 (39 Nbk). Following Bongenaar, he can be identified with the homonymous “overseer of the cattle tax” (rab ṣibti) attested in CT 56, 322.

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is to be understood as “the courtier Tattannu, son of Nabû-šarru-uṣur”–the only plausible candidate, in an Urukean context, for the identification of this Nabûšarru-uṣur is the well-known courtier and supervisor (bēl piqitti) of Eanna of that name (Kleber 2008: 36), who is attested form 1 to 13 Nbn. The father’s title would have been of no relevance several years after his death or disappearance; hence the title “courtier” in this case probably refers to the son, who had followed his father in his profession, or at least in his professional allegiance. 9 A final point on the ša-rēšis’ names. The comparatively high frequency of non-Babylonian names and patronymics has already been mentioned, even though the majority of names are Babylonian. About twenty per cent of names are typical Beamtennamen; i.e., they contain the element šarru: Nabû-šarru-uṣur, Tīrik-šarrūssu, Šarru-lū-dari. These names can either reflect family traditions of royal service or can be assumed or given upon access to office. The theophoric elements included in these names give further clues since the distribution of theophoric elements is different for local people working for the temples. 10 In Sippar and in Uruk, names formed with the elements Adad and Amurru, i.e., with gods who are typical for Aramaic names, account for five and twelve per cent respectively of the names of ša rēšis, but for less than two per cent of the names of normal temple personnel. In Sippar, the share of Šamaš names is predictably high; in both samples it accounts for about a third. The share of the central Babylonian gods Bēl, Nabû and Marduk is forty-two per cent for courtiers and sixty-two per cent for temple personnel including priests. In Uruk, names invoking Bēl, Nabû and Marduk make up about half of the names of temple personnel, but two thirds of the names of courtiers. Names including the Urukean gods Ištar, Anu and Nanaja on the other hand account for only ten per cent of the courtiers’ names, but for twenty per cent of the names of normal temple personnel, including priests. This distribution suggests the following: courtiers with Adad and Amurru names are unlikely to have had a local background either in Uruk or in Sippar; they will have been outsiders, possibly Arameans. The comparatively frequent Amurru names in Uruk are to be explained by the importance of this god in the Sealand of which province Uruk was part and whence the royal officials bearing this theophoric element undoubtedly hailed (Beaulieu 2005). The many Šamaš names in Sippar and the ten per cent of Ištar, Anu and Nanaja names in Uruk on the other hand show that the onomasticon of the ša rēšis did also have a local component; it is probable that these courtiers actually came from Sippar and Uruk respectively. However, at least in Uruk this local component is outnumbered by men whose names suggest a connection with the central cities of Babylonia, Babylon and Borsippa. They may still have come from Uruk, but if so, they probably were linked to the families of northern origin whose presence in Uruk has been discussed by Kessler (2004). In conclusion then, Babylonian courtiers in the long sixth century could have families, their sons 11 could follow them in their profession, and that the status of ša 9.  Unless one thinks of Nabû-šarru-uṣur, son of Bunānu, who acted as city governor of Uruk in the third year of Cyrus (Kleber 2008: 39). He is unusual in that he bears a typical Beamtenname, a fact that is attested for one other city governor of Uruk only. If Tattannu were his son, we would still have a case of a family with a tradition in royal service. 10.  The following is based on the name indices of Bongenaar 1997 and Kümmel 1979, to which some names of courtiers culled from unpublished texts were added. These additions do not affect the overall pattern in a significant way, however. 11.  Which in theory could also have been adopted – the existence of sons does not have a bearing on the issue whether or not ša-rēšis were eunuchs.

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rēši did not necessarily imply a loss of all family connections, nor perhaps even an emancipation from the paternal authority. On the other hand, it is also clear that as a group, these courtiers did not belong to the class of propertied urban Babylonians with their endogamous clan system. The courtiers have a more varied background, both Babylonian and foreign. Cases of upward social mobility based on the access to office must have occurred regularly, much more so than for priests or generally Babylonian urban families. The onomastics of courtiers in the peripheral cities of Uruk and Sippar suggests that at least some ša-rēšis were drawn from the local population, while others, those bearing names with Amurru or Adad, were clearly outsiders. The majority of the ša-rēšis have names that suggest an allegiance to the chief ‘state gods’ Bēl/Marduk and Nabû. This does not rule out local origin a priori, but given the tasks of the ša rēši and their demonstrably high mobility, it is next to certain that many of these officials who are attested in Sippar or Uruk actually came from Babylon itself: their presence reflects attempts at a centralisation of administration. We now turn to the royal commissioners, the qīpus, who represented the royal interest in the temple administrations. 12 In general one finds here the typical pattern that one associates with royal functionaries: qīpus have neither patronymics, nor family names; no explicit information at all is given about their background. The names are frequently typical Beamtennamen: of thirteen qīpus of Eanna, for instance, six contain the element bēlu “lord” or šarru “king” (Kleber 2008: 30–32). The theophoric elements again suggest a non-local and in part potentially non-Babylonian origin: in Uruk we have two qīpus who bear an Amurru name; one has a Ninurta name and another one a name with Sîn: these are outsiders’ names from the viewpoint of the Eanna onomasticon. Only one qīpu has a name formed with Anu. There is however an exception. A certain Imbia of the Kidin-Marduk family acted as qīpu of the Eanna temple under Bardia, during the first months of Darius’ reign and during the revolts of Nebuchadnezzar IV. He was removed from office by Darius after his victory. This man is known to have had the office of city governor (šākin ṭēmi) of Uruk during the reign of Cambyses; he thus came from a locally important Babylonian family with some links to the crown. Nevertheless, this transition to the office of qīpu of a man of such a background is unique in Uruk and Sippar at the time. In the late reign of Darius I, however, as C. Waerzeggers has observed, such appointments of members of priestly families to the office of qīpu are also known in Babylon and Borsippa (Waerzeggers 2010: 42 note 220). The full evidence for such atypical ‘priestly’ qīpus, adding cases from Dilbat and elsewhere, is as follows. Ezida (Borsippa): Nergal-nāṣir, son of Nabû-bān-zēri of the Ilšu-abūšu family,    around 29 Dar 13 Esangila (Babylon): Hašdāya, son of Nabû-nādin-apli of the Arad-Ea family,    around 29 Dar 14

12.  Explicit references to the qīpus’ being appointed by the king can be found in the seventh century: e.g., SAA 10, 364. 13.  Zadok and Zadok 2005: 644; VS 6, 155, TEBR 80, BM 87313. 14.  VS 6, 155, CT 22, 59.

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Ekidurgina (Bāṣ?): Ea-iddin, son of Adad-zēru-ibni of the Šangû-Gula family, 29   Dar 15 E-imbi-Anu (Dilbat):    Bēl-zēru-ibni son of Iqīša-Marduk of the Arad-Ea family, end of the reign of    Darius or first two years of Xerxes (VS 6,171), replaced by Nidintu, son of    Nabû-iddin of the [ . . . family], reign of Bēl-šimânni and Šamaš-erība    (VS 6, 331; CTMMA 4,140)

The appearance of these ‘new’ qīpus is a sign of a probably gradual encroachment of the priestly families on royal privileges with regard to the management of the temples. This process may have been facilitated by the courtier managers (ša rēš šarri bēl piqitti) and the Aramaic scribes working among the temple administrators: officials without local connections and loyalties whom the royal administration had installed in all temples to look after its interests. Their presence may have made it seem less vital for the king to keep also the office of qīpu under close control. Nevertheless, the local networks of urban notables must have been strengthened by this development at the expense of the centralizing power of the crown. City governors (šākin ṭēmis) occupied a liminal position between the city-based administrative institutions that had their social core in the temples and the priesthood on the one hand and the royal administration on the other. In Borsippa, the best-known case, the city governors come from the leading priestly families, the same families from which the bishops (šatammu) of Ezida originated: several bishops are in fact sons of city governors. The nexus between priesthood, local family background and prestige and royal protection is beyond doubt; changes in office that coincide with political changes can be observed several times (Waerzeggers 2010: 65–76). 16 The situation in Babylon was the same even though we have less information. The best-known case is that of the Ša-nāšišu family, which held important positions in northern Babylonia under Darius (Waerzeggers in press). A member of this family, Ina-Esangila-lilbur, was chief priest (šangû) of the Ebabbar temple at Sippar from the first to the twelfth year of Darius I, then he moved to Babylon, where he was appointed city-governor (šākin ṭēmi), possibly as successor of his father. In the twenty-fifth year of Darius Ina-Esangila-lilbur went on to act as bishop (šatammu) of Esangila, he may even have become bishop of Ezida at the same time. His younger brother Gūzānu was his successor as chief priest in Sippar until the twenty-fifth year of Darius, when he took over from his brother the position of city governor of Babylon. At the same time, another brother, Nabû-balāssu-iqbi, took the now vacant position of šangû of Sippar. This branch of the Ša-nāšišu family, and others like it, such as a branch of the Ilia family from Borsippa, 17 prospered with royal support and in part on the basis of offices in city administration, but their principal socio-economic point of reference was the temple, not the royal establishment. Interestingly, the situation in Uruk is different (data: Kleber 2008: 32–39). First, there were at least two city governors who on the basis of their names, Anu15.  VS 6, 155. For the temple name (perhaps to be read Ekitušgina), see George 1993: 111. 16.  There is one noteable exception however: the city governor “Adad-sir-idiri”, who was in office at one point under Darius according to HSM 1931–1-9, 16, was of westsemitic origin and thus was not offspring of a family with a priestly background (Waerzeggers 2010: 70 citing Zadok and Zadok 2005: 639). 17.  Four governors of Borsippa and four bishops of Ezida in the long sixth century: Waerzeggers 2010: 65 and 69.

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šarru-uṣur and Nabû-šarru-uṣur (Kleber 2008: 39), were most likely royal officials sensu strictu, perhaps even courtiers. Otherwise, city governors came from local families and appear as witnesses and sometimes as protagonists in the temple archive of Eanna also before their access to office, but the close link between the highest priestly offices and the office of city governor that was typical for Borsippa and Babylon did not exist in Uruk. The families of origin of the city governors are Gimil-Nanaya, Hunzû and Kidin-Marduk. These are, as Kessler (2004) has shown, all genuinely Urukean families. They did not produce a single bishop of Eanna; at the time these came mostly from families that had also branches or ties in the northern Babylonia (Dābibī, Egibi). In fact the families of the šākin ṭēmis seem to have had traditionally close links to the royal administration, perhaps even closer links than to the temple. A few illustrations of this fact: in one case we see a future city governor of Uruk, Marduk-šumu-iddin of the Gimil-Nanāya family, take over the management of the entire revenue that accrued to the king in relation to the cultic activities in Eanna (TCL 12, 57; Kleber 2008: 288–92). After the death of this governor, three high-ranking royal officials made a joint effort to intercede with the temple administration on behalf of the apparently minor son of the deceased šākin ṭēmi whose inheritance was being contested: this is a personal intervention on behalf of the family of a close colleague (Jursa 2011b). A letter dating to the final years of the reign of Nabonidus relates that Imbia, the man who was to become šākin ṭēmi under Cyrus and Cambyses, was staying in the entourage of king Nabonidus (ittāḫ šarri ušuz, YOS 3, 129). The families of the Urukean šākin ṭēmis were therefore local families from Uruk whose social prestige and position was tied to a considerable degree to the crown and the offices that resulted from this contact, rather than primarily to the temple as was the case with the majority of the other families of the same upper stratum of the Urukean urban population. If one looks beyond the long sixth century it becomes apparent that attaching a family’s fortune to royal backing was a more secure strategy than reliance on local temple connections and Babylonian urban networks. The old priestly families of Northern Babylonia suffered severely in the aftermath of the rebellions against Xerxes in 484, but the loyal Gimil-Nanaja, Hunzû and Kidin-Marduk clans in Uruk survived (Kessler 2004). In Borsippa and Babylon on the other hand, the Ilias and Ša-nāšišus were removed from their prominent positions; the office of city governor of Borsippa was given to a member of the Bābāya family, a clan that had been completely unimportant in the sixth century. This family prospered and moved on to a bright future in royal service: the famous Achaemenid governor of Babylon Bēlšunu was in all likelihood a direct descendent of this new governor of Borsippa, and so was of course also Erība, Bēlšunu’s son and successor as governor of Babylon, and perhaps another Bēlšunu (Belesys) who acted as governor of Across-the-River (Stolper 1999: 371–373; Jursa 2005: 61; Pedersén 2005: 146–147).

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Nielsen, J. 2011 Sons and Descendants. A Social History of Kin Groups and Family Names in the Early Neo-Babylonian Period 747–626 BC. Culture and History of the Ancient Near East 43. Leiden and Boston: Brill. Pedersén, O. 2005 Archive und Bibliotheken in Babylon: Die Tontafeln der Grabung Robert Koldeweys 1899– 1917. Abhandlungen der Deutschen Orient-Gesellschaft 25. Saarbrücken: Saarländische Druckerei und Verlag. Pirngruber, R. 2011 Eunuchen am Königshof: Ktesias und die altorientalische Evidenz. Pp. 279–312 in Ktesias’ Welt. Ctesias’ World. Classica et Orientalia 1. Edited by J. Wiesehöfer, R. Rollinger and G. Lanfranchi. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Radner, K. 2011 Royal decision-making: kings, magnates, and scholars. Pp. 358–379 in The Oxford Handbook of Cuneiform Culture. Edited by K. Radner and E. Robson. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Ragen, A. 2006 The Neo-Babylonian širku. A Social History. Ph.D. Dissertation, Harvard University. Stolper, M. W. 1999 Achaemenid Legal Texts from the Kasr: Interim Observations. Pp. 365–377 in Babylon: Focus mesopotamischer Geschichte, Wiege früher Gelehrsamkeit, Mythos in der Moderne. Edited by J. Renger. Saarbrücken: Saarbrücker Druckerei und Verlag. Waerzeggers, C. 2010 The Ezida Temple of Borsippa. Priesthood, Cult, Archives. Achaemenid History XV. Leiden. in press  Local Government and Persian Rule in Babylonia: The Rise of the Ša-nāšišu Family during the Reign of Darius I. In Festschrift Dandamaev. Vanderhooft, D. S. 1999 The Neo-Babylonian Empire and Babylon in the Latter Prophets. Harvard Semitic Monographs 59. Atlanta: Scholars Press. Zadok, R. 2003 The Representation of Foreigners in Neo and Late-Babylonian Legal Documents (Eighth through Second Centuries b.c.e.). Pp.  471–589 in Judah and the Judeans in the NeoBabylonian Period. Edited by O. Lipschits and J. Blenkinsopp. Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns. Zadok, R. and T. Zadok 2005 Contributions to Neo/Late-Babylonian Documentation. Pp. 624–665 in “An Experienced Scribe Who Neglects Nothing”. Ancient Near Eastern Studies in Honor of Jacob Klein. Edited by Y. Sefati et al. Bethesda: CDL Press.