No More Learning

The engineer threw himself at her feet, poured forth excuses


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EDMOND ABOUT
44
»
and tender phrases, and did all he could to console her inexpli-
cable grief.
Clémentine dried her eyes, looked prettier than ever, and
sighed fit to break her heart, without knowing why.
« Beast that I am! ” muttered Léon, tearing his hair. « On the
day when I see her again after three years' absence, I can think
of nothing more soul-inspiring than showing her mummies! He
launched a kick at the triple coffin of the colonel, saying, “I wish
the devil had the confounded colonel ! »
“No! ” cried Clémentine, with redoubled energy and emotion.
“Do not curse him, Monsieur Léon! He has suffered so much!
Ah! poor, poor, unfortunate man! »
Mlle. Sambucco felt a little ashamed. She made excuses for
her niece, and declared that never, since her tenderest childhood,
had she manifested such extreme sensitiveness.
Clémen-
tine was no sensitive plant. She was not even a romantic school-
girl. Her youth had not been nourished by Anne Radcliffe, she
did not trouble herself about ghosts, and she would go through the
house very tranquilly at ten o'clock at night without a candle.
When her mother died, some months before Léon's departure, she
did not wish to have any one share with her the sad satisfaction
of watching and praying in the death chamber.
« This will teach us,” said the aunt, “what staying up after
ten o'clock does. What! it is midnight, within a quarter of an
hour! Come, my child; you will recover fast enough after you
get to bed. ”
Clémentine arose submissively; but at the moment of leaving
the laboratory she retraced her steps, and with a caprice more
inexplicable than her grief, she absolutely demanded to see the
mummy of the colonel again. Her aunt scolded in vain; in spite
of the remarks of Mlle. Sambucco and all the others present, she
reopened the walnut box, knelt down beside the mummy, and
kissed it on the forehead.
« Poor man! ” said she, rising. “How cold he is! Monsieur
Léon, promise me that if he is dead you will have him laid in
consecrated ground!
"As you please, mademoiselle. I intended to send him to the
anthropological museum, with my father's permission; but you
know that we can refuse you nothing. ”
Selections from «The Man with the Broken Ear) used by permission of
Henry Holt and Company
>>
(
»


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EDMOND ABOUT
45
THE MAN WITHOUT A COUNTRY
From «The Man with the Broken Ear): by permission of Henry Holt, the
Translator
F
»
ORTHWITH the colonel marched and opened the windows with
a precipitation which upset the gazers among the crowd.
“People,” said he, “I have knocked down a hundred beggarly
pandours, who respect neither sex nor infirmity. For the benefit
of those who are not satisfied, I will state that I call myself
Colonel Fougas of the Twenty-third. And Vive l'Empéreur ! ”
A confused mixture of plaudits, cries, laughs, and jeers an-
swered this unprecedented allocution. Léon Renault hastened out
to make apologies to all to whom they were due. He invited a
few friends to dine the same evening with the terrible colonel,
and of course he did not forget to send a special messenger to
Clémentine. Fougas, after speaking to the people, returned to his
hosts, swinging himself along with a swaggering air, set himself
astride a chair, took hold of the ends of his mustache, and said:
“Well! Come, let's talk this over. I've been sick, then ? ”
“Very sick. ”
«That's incredible! I feel entirely well; I'm hungry; and more-
over, while waiting for dinner I'll try a glass of your schnick. ”
Mme. Renault went out, gave an order, and returned in an
instant.
“But tell me, then, where I am ? ” resumed the colonel. By
these paraphernalia of work, I recognize a disciple of Urania; pos-
sibly a friend of Monge and Berthollet. But the cordial friendli-
ness impressed on your countenances proves to me that you are
not natives of this land of sauerkraut. Yes, I believe it from the
beatings of my heart. Friends, we have the same fatherland.
The kindness of your reception, even were there no other indica-
tions, would have satisfied me that you are French. What acci-
dents have brought you so far from our native soil ? Children of
my country, what tempest has thrown you upon this inhospitable
shore ? "
"My dear colonel,” replied M. Nibor, if you want to become
very wise, you will not ask so many questions at once. Allow us
the pleasure of instructing you quietly and in order, for you have
a great many things to learn. ”
The colonel flushed with anger, and answered sharply:-
"At all events, you are not the man to teach them to me, my
little gentleman! ”
>


## p. 46 (#60) ##############################################

46
EDMOND ABOUT
A drop of blood which fell on his hand changed the current of
his thoughts.
«Hold on! ” said he: "am I bleeding ? ”
« That will amount to nothing: circulation is re-established,
and — and your broken ear— »
He quickly carried his hand to his ear, and said: –
It's certainly so. But devil take me if I recollect this acci-
dent! "
"I'll make you a little dressing, and in a couple of days there
will be no trace of it left. »
“Don't give yourself the trouble, my dear Hippocrates: a pinch
of powder is a sovereign cure! ”
M. Nibor set to work to dress the ear in a little less military
fashion. During his operations Léon re-entered.
«Ah! ah ! ” said he to the doctor: "you are repairing the harm
I did. ”
«Thunderation ! » cried Fougas, escaping from the hands of
M. Nibor SO as to seize Léon by the collar, was it you, you
rascal, that hurt my ear? ”
Léon was very good-natured, but his patience failed him. He
pushed his man roughly aside.
“Yes, sir: it was I who tore your ear, in pulling it; and if
that little misfortune had not happened to me, it is certain that
you would have been to-day six feet under ground. It is I who
saved your life, after buying you with my money when you were
not valued at more than twenty-five louis. It is I who have
passed three days and two nights in cramming charcoal under
It is my father who gave you the clothes you now
have on.
You are in our house. Drink the little glass of brandy
Gothon just brought you; but for God's sake give up the habit
of calling me rascal, of calling my mother Good Mother,' and
of Alinging our friends into the street and calling them beggarly
pandours! ”
The colonel, all dumbfounded, held out his hand to Léon, M.
Renault, and the doctor, gallantly kissed the hand of Mme.
Renault, swallowed at a gulp a claret glass filled to the brim with
brandy, and said, in a subdued voice:-
«Most excellent friends, forget the vagaries of an impulsive
but generous soul. To subdue my passions shall hereafter be my
law. After conquering all the nations in the universe, it is well
to conquer one's self. ”
your boiler.


## p. 47 (#61) ##############################################

EDMOND ABOUT
47
This said, he submitted his ear to M. Nibor, who finished
dressing it.
"But,” said he, summoning up his recollections, they did not
shoot me, then ? »
"No. "
“And I wasn't frozen to death in the tower ? ”
"Not quite. ”
“Why has my uniform been taken off? I see! I am a pris-
oner! ”
“You are free. ”
«Free! Vive l'Empereur! But then there's not a moment to
lose! How many leagues is it to Dantzic ? »
“It's very far. ”
“What do you call this chicken-coop of a town? ”
« Fontainebleau. ”
“ Fontainebleau! In France ? ”
« Préfecture of Seine-et-Marne. We are going to introduce
to you the sub-préfect, whom you just pitched into the street. ”
“What the devil are your sub-préfects to me? I have a
message from the Emperor to General Rapp, and I must start
this very day for Dantzic. God knows whether I'll be there in
time! ”
"My poor colonel, you will arrive too late. Dantzic is given
up. ”
« That's impossible! Since when ? ”
«About forty-six years ago. ”
« Thunder! I did not understand that you were — mocking
me!
M. Nibor placed in his hand a calendar, and said, “See for
yourself! It is now the 17th of August, 1859; you went to sleep
in the tower of Liebenfeld on the uth of November, 1813: there
have been, then, forty-six years, within three months, during
which the world has moved on without you. ”
« Twenty-four and forty-six: but then I would be seventy years
old, according to your statement! ”
«Your vitality clearly shows that you are still twenty-four. ”
He shrugged his shoulders, tore up the calendar, and said,
beating the floor with his foot, «Your almanac is a humbug! ”
M. Renault ran to his library, took up half a dozen books at
haphazard, and made him read, at the foot of the title-pages, the
dates 1826, 1833, 1847, and 1858.


## p. 48 (#62) ##############################################

48
EDMOND ABOUT
"Pardon me! ” said Fougas, burying his head in his hands.
“What has happened to me is so new! I do not think that
another human being was ever subjected to such a trial. I am
seventy years old ! »
Good Mme. Renault went and got a looking-glass from the
bath-room and gave it to him, saying:-
« Look! »
He took the glass in both hands, and was silently occupied in
resuming acquaintance with himself, when a hand-organ came into
the court and began playing Partant pour la Syrie. '
Fougas threw the mirror to the ground, and cried out:-
"What is that you are telling me? I hear the little song of
Queen Hortense !
M. Renault patiently explained to him, while picking up the
pieces of the mirror, that the pretty little song of Queen Hor-
tense had become a national air, and even an official one, since
the regimental bands had substituted that gentle melody for the
fierce Marseillaise; and that our soldiers, strange to say, had
not fought any the worse for it. But the colonel had already
opened the window, and was crying out to the Savoyard with the
organ:-
«Eh! Friend! A napoleon for you if you will tell me in
what year I am drawing the breath of life ! »
The artist began dancing as lightly as possible, playing on his
musical instrument.
“Advance at the order! ” cried the colonel, “and keep that
devilish machine still! ”
"A little penny, my good monsieur! ”
"It is not a penny that I'll give you, but a napoleon, if you'll
tell what year it is. ”
"Oh, but that's funny! Hi-hi-hi! »
«And if you don't tell me quicker than this amounts to, I'll
cut your ears off ! ”
The Savoyard ran away, but he came back pretty soon, having
meditated, during his flight, on the maxim Nothing risk, noth-
ing gain. ”
“Monsieur,” said he, in a wheedling voice, “this is the year
eighteen hundred and fifty-nine. ”
“Good ! » cried Fougas. He felt in his pockets for money, and
found nothing there. Léon saw his predicament, and flung twenty
francs into the court. Before shutting the window, ne pointed


## p. 49 (#63) ##############################################

EDMOND ABOUT
49
1
out, to the right, the façade of a pretty little new building, where
the colonel could distinctly read:
-
AUDRET ARCHITECTE
MDCCCLIX
(
»
»
(
A perfectly satisfactory piece of evidence, and one which did
not cost twenty francs.
Fougas, a little confused, pressed Léon's hand and said to
him:
"My friend, I do not forget that Confidence is the first duty
from Gratitude toward Beneficence. But tell me of our country!
I tread the sacred soil where I received my being, and I am
ignorant of the career of my native land. France is still the
queen of the world, is she not ? »
“Certainly,” said Léon.
“How is the Emperor ? »
« Well. ”
«And the Empress ? ”
"Very well. "
“And the King of Rome ? »
“The Prince Imperial ? He is a very fine child. ”
“How ? A fine child!
A fine child! And you have the face to say that this
is 1859! ”
M. Nibor took up the conversation, and explained in a few
words that the reigning sovereign of France was not Napoleon I. ,
but Napoleon III.
“But then,” cried Fougas, “my Emperor is dead! ”
« Yes. ”
"Impossible! Tell me anything you will but that! My Em-
peror is immortal. ”
M. Nibor and the Renaults, who were not quite professional
historians, were obliged to give him a summary of the history of
our century. Some one went after a big book, written by M. de
Norvins and illustrated with fine engravings by Raffet. He only
believed in the presence of Truth when he could touch her with
his hand, and still cried out almost every moment, That's im-
possible! This is not history that you are reading to me: it is a
romance written to make soldiers weep! ”
This young man must indeed have had a strong and well-tem-
pered soul; for he learned in forty minutes all the woful events
1-4


## p. 50 (#64) ##############################################

50
EDMOND ABOUT
which fortune had scattered through eighteen years, from the first
abdication up to the death of the King of Rome.
Less happy
than his old companions in arms, he had no interval of repose
between these terrible and repeated shocks, all beating upon his
heart at the same time. One could have feared that the blow
might prove mortal, and poor Fougas die in the first hour of his
recovered life. But the imp of a fellow yielded and recovered
himself in quick succession like a spring. He cried out with
admiration on hearing of the five battles of the campaign in
France; he reddened with grief at the farewells of Fontainebleau.
The return from the Isle of Elba transfigured his handsome and
noble countenance; at Waterloo his heart rushed in with the last
army of the Empire, and there shattered itself. Then he clenched
his fists and said between his teeth, "If I had been there at the
head of the Twenty-Third, Blücher and Wellington would have
seen another fate! ” The invasion, the truce, the martyr of St.
Helena, the ghastly terror of Europe, the murder of Murat,- the
idol of the cavalry,—the deaths of Ney, Bruno, Mouton-Duvernet,
and so many other whole-souled men whom he had known, ad-
mired, and loved, threw him into a series of paroxysms of rage;
but nothing crushed him. In hearing of the death of Napoleon,
he swore that he would eat the heart of England; the slow agony
of the pale and interesting heir of the Empire inspired him with
a passion to tear the vitals out of Austria. When the drama was
over, and the curtain fell on Schönbrunn, he dashed away his
tears and said, “It is well. I have lived in a moment a man's
entire life. Now show me the map of France! ”
Léon began to turn over the leaves of an atlas, while M.
Renault attempted to continue narrating to the colonel the history
of the Restoration, and of the monarchy of 1830. But Fougas's
interest was in other things.
«What do I care,” said he, “if a couple of hundred babblers
of deputies put one king in place of another ? Kings! I've seen
enough of them in the dirt. If the Empire had lasted ten years
longer, I could have had a king for a bootblack. ”
When the atlas was placed before him, he at once cried out
with profound disdain, « That France ? »
“That France ? ” But soon two tears of
pitying affection, escaping from his eyes, swelled the rivers
Ardèche and Gironde. He kissed the map and said, with an
emotion which communicated itself to nearly all those who were
present :


## p. 51 (#65) ##############################################

ACCADIAN-BABYLONIAN AND ASSYRIAN LITERATURE
.
51
(
"Forgive me, poor old love, for insulting your misfortunes.
Those scoundrels whom we always whipped have profited by my
sleep to pare down your frontiers; but little or great, rich or poor,
you are my mother, and I love you as a faithful son! Here is
Corsica, where the giant of our age was born; here is Toulouse,
where I first saw the light; here is Nancy, where I felt my heart
awakened - where, perhaps, she whom I call my Æglé waits for
me still! France! Thou hast a temple in my soul; this arm is
thine; thou shalt find me ever ready to shed my blood to the last
drop in defending or avenging thee!
ASSYRIAN LITER-
ACCADIAN-BABYLONIAN AND
ATURE
BY CRAWFORD H. TOY
ECENT discoveries have carried the beginnings of civilization
farther and farther back into the remote past. Scholars are
not agreed as to what region can lay claim to the greatest
literary antiquity. The oldest historical records are found in Egypt
and Babylonia, and each of these lands has its advocates, who claim
for it priority in culture. The data now at our command are not suf-
ficient for the decision of this question. It may be doubted whether
any one spot on the globe will ever be shown to have precedence in
time over all others, — whether, that is, it will appear that the civili-
zation of the world has proceeded from a single centre. But though
we are yet far from having reached the very beginnings of culture,
we know that they lie farther back than the wildest dreams of half a
century ago would have imagined. Established kingdoms existed in
Babylonia in the fourth millennium before the beginning of our era;
royal inscriptions have been found which are with great probability
assigned to about the year 3800 B. C. These are, it is true, of the
simplest description, consisting of a few sentences of praise to a deity
or brief notices of a campaign or of the building of a temple; but
they show that the art of writing was known, and that the custom
existed of recording events of the national history. We may thence
infer the existence of a settled civilization and of some sort of literary
productiveness.
The Babylonian-Assyrian writings with which we are acquainted
may be divided into the two classes of prose and poetry. The former
class consists of royal inscriptions (relating to military campaigns and
the construction of temples), chronological tables (eponym canons),


## p. 52 (#66) ##############################################

52
ACCADIAN-BABYLONIAN AND ASSYRIAN LITERATURE
legal documents (sales, suits, etc. ), grammatical tables (paradigms and
vocabularies), lists of omens and lucky and unlucky days, and letters
and reports passing between kings and governors; the latter class
includes cosmogonic poems, an epic poem in twelve books, detached
mythical narratives, magic formulas and incantations, and prayers to
deities (belonging to the ritual service of the temples). The prose
pieces, with scarcely an exception, belong to the historical period, and
may be dated with something like accuracy. The same thing is true
of a part of the poetical material, particularly the prayers; but the
cosmogonic and other mythical poems appear to go back, at least so
far as their material is concerned, to a very remote antiquity, and it
is difficult to assign them a definite date.
Whether this oldest poetical material belongs to the Semitic Baby-
lonians or to a non-Semitic (Sumerian-Accadian) people is a question
not yet definitely decided. The material which comes into consid-
eration for the solution of this problem is mainly linguistic. Along
with the inscriptions, which are obviously in the Semitic-Babylonian
language, are found others composed of words apparently strange.
These are held by some scholars to represent a priestly, cryptographic
writing, by others to be true Semitic words in slightly altered form,
and by others still to belong to a non-Semitic tongue. This last view
supposes that the ancient poetry comes, in substance at any rate,
from a non-Semitic people who spoke this tongue; while on the other
hand, it is maintained that this poetry is so interwoven into Semitic
life that it is impossible to regard it as of foreign origin. The
majority of Semitic scholars are now of the opinion that the origin
of this early literature is foreign However this may be, it comes to
us in Babylonian dress, it has been elaborated by Babylonian hands,
has thence found its way into the literature of other Semitic peoples,
and for our purposes may be accepted as Babylonian. In any case it
carries us back to very early religious conceptions.
The cosmogonic poetry is in its outlines not unlike that of Hesiod,
but develops the ruder ideas at greater length. In the shortest (but
probably not the earliest) form of the cosmogony, the beginning of
all things is found in the watery abyss. Two abysmal powers
(Tiamat and Apsu), represented as female and male, mingle their
waters, and from them proceed the gods. The list of deities (as in
the Greek cosmogony) seems to represent several dynasties, a concep-
tion which may embody the belief in the gradual organization of the
world. After two less-known gods, called Lahmu and Lahamu, come
the more familiar figures of later Babylonian writing, Anu and Ea. At
this point the list unfortunately breaks off, and the creative function
which may have been assigned to the gods is lost, or has not yet
been discovered. The general similarity between this account and


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ACCADIAN-BABYLONIAN AND ASSYRIAN LITERATURE
53
that of Gen. i. is obvious: both begin with the abysmal chaos. Other
agreements between the two cosmogonies will be pointed out below.
The most interesting figure in this fragment is that of Tiamat. We
shall presently see her in the character of the enemy of the gods.
The two conceptions of her do not agree together perfectly, and the
priority in time must be assigned to the latter. The idea that the
world of gods and men and material things issued out of the womb
of the abyss is a philosophic generalization that is more naturally
assigned to a period of reflection.
In the second cosmogonic poem the account is more similar to that
of the second chapter of Genesis, and its present form originated in
or near Babylon. Here we have nothing of the primeval deep, but
are told how the gods made a beautiful land, with rivers and trees;
how Babylon was built and Marduk created man, and the Tigris and
the Euphrates, and the beasts and cities and temples. This also must
be looked on as a comparatively late form of the myth, since its hero
is Marduk, god of Babylon. As in the Bible account, men are created
before beasts, and the region of their first abode seems to be the same
as the Eden of Genesis.
Let us now turn to the poem in which the combat between Tiamat
and Marduk forms the principal feature. For some unexplained
reason Tiamat rebels against the gods. Collecting her hosts, among
them frightful demon shapes of all imaginable forms, she advances
for the purpose of expelling the gods from their seats. The affrighted
deities turn for protection to the high gods, Anu and Ea, who, how-
ever, recoil in terror from the hosts of the dragon Tiamat. Anshar
then applies to Marduk. The gods are invited to a feast, the situ-
ation is described, and Marduk is invited to lead the heavenly hosts
against the foe. He agrees on condition that he shall be clothed
with absolute power, so that he shall only have to say “Let it be,
and it shall be. To this the gods assent: a garment is placed before
him, to which he says “Vanish, and it vanishes, and when he com-
mands it to appear, it is present. The hero then dons his armor and
advances against the enemy. He takes Tiamat and slays her, routs
her host, kills her consort Kingu, and utterly destroys the rebel-
lion. Tiamat he cuts in twain. Out of one half of her he forms the
heavens, out of the other half the earth, and for the gods Anu and
Bel and Ea he makes a heavenly palace, like the abyss itself in
extent. To the great gods also he assigns positions, forms the stars,
establishes the year and month and the day. At this point the his-
tory is interrupted, the tablet being broken. The creation of the
heavenly bodies is to be compared with the similar account in
Gen. i. ; whether this poem narrates the creation of the rest of the
world it is impossible to say.


## p. 54 (#68) ##############################################

54
ACCADIAN-BABYLONIAN AND ASSYRIAN LITERATURE
one.
In this history of the rebellion of Tiamat against the gods we have
a mythical picture of some natural phenomenon, perhaps of the con-
Alict between the winter and the enlivening sun of summer. The
poem appears to contain elements of different dates. The rude char-
acter of some of the procedures suggests an early time: Marduk slays
Tiamat by driving the wind into her body; the warriors who accom-
pany her have those composite forms familiar to us from Babylo-
nian and Egyptian statues, paintings, and seals, which are the product
of that early thought for which there was no essential difference
between man and beast. The festival in which the gods carouse is
of a piece with the divine Ethiopian feasts of Homer. On the other
hand, the idea of the omnipotence of the divine word, when Marduk
makes the garment disappear and reappear, is scarcely a primitive
It is substantially identical with the Biblical “Let it be, and it
was. ” It is probable that the poem had a long career, and in success-
ive recensions received the coloring of different generations. Tiamat
herself has a long history. Here she is a dragon who assaults the
gods; elsewhere, as we have seen, she is the mother of the gods;
here also her body forms the heaven and the earth. She appears in
Gen. i. 2 as the Tehom, the primeval abyss. In the form of the
hostile dragon she is found in numerous passages of the Old Testa-
ment, though under different names. She is an enemy of Yahwe,
god of Israel, and in the New Testament (Rev. xii. ) the combat
between Marduk and Tiamat is represented under the form of a fight
between Michael and the Dragon. In Christian literature Michael has
been replaced by St. George. The old Babylonian conception has been
fruitful of poetry, representing, as it does, in grand form the struggle
between the chaotic and the formative forces of the universe.
The most considerable of the old Babylonian poems, so far as
length and literary form are concerned, is that which has been com-
monly known as the Izdubar epic. The form of the name is not
certain : Mr. Pinches has recently proposed, on the authority of a
Babylonian text, to write it Gilgamesh, and this form has been
adopted by a number of scholars. The poem (discovered by George
Smith in 1872) is inscribed on twelve tablets, each tablet apparently
containing a separate episode.
The first tablet introduces the hero as the deliverer of his country
from the Elamites, an event which seems to have taken place before
2000 B. C. Of the second, third, fourth, and fifth tablets, only frag-
ments exist, but it appears that Gilgamesh slays the Elamite tyrant.
The sixth tablet recounts the love of Ishtar for the hero, to whom
she proposes marriage, offering him the tribute of the land.
The
reason he assigns for his rejection of the goddess is the number and
fatal character of her loves. Among the objects of her affection were


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ACCADIAN-BABYLONIAN AND ASSYRIAN LITERATURE
55
a wild eagle, a lion, a war-horse, a ruler, and a husbandman; and all
these came to grief. Ishtar, angry at her rejection, complains to her
father, Anu, and her mother, Anatu, and begs them to avenge her
wrong. Anu creates a divine bull and sends it against Gilgamesh,
who, however, with the aid of his friend Eabani, slays the bull.
Ishtar curses Gilgamesh, but Eabani turns the curse against her.
The seventh tablet recounts how Ishtar descends to the underworld
seeking some better way of attacking the hero. The description of
the Babylonian Sheol is one of the most effective portions of the
poem, and with it George Smith connects a well-known poem which
relates the descent of Ishtar to the underworld. The goddess goes
down to the house of darkness from which there is no exit, and
demands admittance of the keeper; who, however, by command of
the queen of the lower world, requires her to submit to the condi-
tions imposed on all who enter. There are seven gates, at each of
which he removes some portion of her ornaments and dress. Ishtar,
thus unclothed, enters and becomes a prisoner. Meantime the upper
earth has felt her absence. All love and life has ceased. Yielding
to the persuasions of the gods, Ea sends a messenger to demand
the release of the goddess. The latter passes out, receiving at each
gate a portion of her clothing. This story of Ishtar's love belongs to
one of the earliest stages of religious belief. Not only do the gods
appear as under the control of ordinary human passions, but there is
no consciousness of material difference between man and beast. The
Greek parallels are familiar to all. Of these ideas we find no trace
in the later Babylonian and Assyrian literature, and the poem was
doubtless interpreted by the Babylonian sages in allegorical fashion.
In the eighth and ninth tablets the death of Eabani is recorded,
and the grief of Gilgamesh. The latter then wanders forth in search
of Hasisadra, the hero of the Flood-story. After various adventures
he reaches the abode of the divinized man, and from him learns the
story of the Flood, which is given in the eleventh tablet.
This story is almost identical with that of the Book of Genesis.
The God Bel is determined to destroy mankind, and Hasisadra
receives directions from Ea to build a ship, and take into it provis-
ions and goods and slaves and beasts of the field. The ship is cov-
ered with bitumen. The flood is sent by Shamash (the sun-god).
Hasisadra enters the ship and shuts the door. So dreadful is the
tempest that the gods in affright ascend for protection to the heaven
of Anu. Six days the storm lasts. On the seventh comes calm.
Hasisadra opens a window and sees the mountain of Nizir, sends forth
a dove, which returns; then a swallow, which returns; then a raven,
which does not return; then, knowing that the flood has passed, sends
out the animals, builds an altar, and offers sacrifice, over which the


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ACCADIAN-BABYLONIAN AND ASSYRIAN LITERATURE
gods gather like flies. Ea remonstrates with Bel, and urges that here-
after, when he is angry with men, instead of sending a deluge, he
shall send wild beasts, who shall destroy them. Thereupon Bel makes
a compact with Hasisadra, and the gods take him and his wife and
people and place them in a remote spot at the mouth of the rivers.
It is now generally agreed that the Hebrew story of the Flood is
taken from the Babylonian, either mediately through the Canaanites
(for the Babylonians had occupied Canaan before the sixteenth cen-
tury B. C. ), or immediately during the exile in the sixth century.
The Babylonian account is more picturesque, the Hebrew more re-
strained and solemn. The early polytheistic features have been
excluded by the Jewish editors.
In addition to these longer stories there are a number of legends
of no little poetical and mythical interest. In the cycle devoted to
the eagle there is a story of the struggle between the eagle and the
serpent. The latter complains to the sun-god that the eagle has
eaten his young. The god suggests a plan whereby the hostile bird
may be caught: the body of a wild ox is to be set as a snare. Out
of this plot, however, the eagle extricates himself by his sagacity.
In the second story the eagle comes to the help of a woman who is
struggling to bring a man-child (apparently Etana) into the world.
In the third is portrayed the ambition of the hero Etana to ascend to
heaven. The eagle promises to aid him in accomplishing his design.
Clinging to the bird, he rises with him higher and higher toward the
heavenly space, reaching the abode of Anu, and then the abode of
Ishtar. As they rise to height after height the eagle describes the
appearance of the world lying stretched out beneath: at first it rises
like a huge mountain out of the sea; then the ocean appears as a
girdle encircling the land, and finally but as a ditch a gardener digs
to irrigate his land. When they have risen so high that the earth is
scarcely visible, Etana cries to the eagle to stop; so he does, but his
strength is exhausted, and bird and man fall to the earth.
Another cycle of stories deals with the winds. The god Zu longs
to have absolute power over the world. To that end he lurks about
the door of the sun-god, the possessor of the tablets of fate whereby
he controls all things. Each morning before beginning his journey,
the sun-god steps out to send light showers over the world. Watch-
ing his opportunity, Zu glides in, seizes the tablets of fate, and flies
away and hides himself in the mountains. So great horror comes
over the world: it is likely to be scorched by the sun-god's burning
beams.
Anu calls on the storm-god Ramman to conquer Zu, but he
is frightened and declines the task, as do other gods. Here, unfor-
tunately, the tablet is broken, so that we do not know by whom the
normal order was finally restored.


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ACCADIAN-BABYLONIAN AND ASSYRIAN LITERATURE
57
In the collection of cuneiform tablets disinterred at Amarna in 1887
was found the curious story of Adapa. The demigod Adapa, the son
of Ea, fishing in the sea for the family of his lord, is overwhelmed by
the stormy south wind and cast under the waves. In anger he breaks
the wings of the wind, that it may no longer rage in the storm.
Anu, informed that the south wind no longer blows, summons Adapa
to his presence. Ea instructs his son to put on apparel of mourning,
present himself at Anu's gate, and there make friends with the por-
ters, Tammuz and Iszida, so that they may speak a word for him to
Anu; going into the presence of the royal deity, he will be offered
food and drink which he must reject, and raiment and oil which
he must accept. Adapa carries out the instructions of his father to
the letter. Anu is appeased, but laments that Adapa, by rejecting
heavenly food and drink, has lost the opportunity to become immor-
tal. This story, the record of which is earlier than the sixteenth
century B. C. , appears to contain two conceptions : it is a mythical
description of the history of the south wind, but its conclusion pre-
sents a certain parallelism with the end of the story of Eden in
Genesis; as there Adam, so here Adapa, fails of immortality because
he infringes the divine command concerning the divine food. We
have here a suggestion that the story in Genesis is one of the cycle
which dealt with the common earthly fact of man's mortality.
The legend of Dibbarra seems to have a historical basis. The god
Dibbarra has devastated the cities of Babylonia with bloody wars.
Against Babylon he has brought a hostile host and slain its people, so
that Marduk, the god of Babylon, curses him. And in like manner
he has raged against Erech, and is cursed by its goddess Ishtar. He
is charged with confounding the righteous and unrighteous in indis-
criminate destruction. But Dibbarra determines to advance against
the dwelling of the king of the gods, and Babylonia is to be further
desolated by civil war. It is a poetical account of devastating wars
as the production of a hostile diety. It is obvious that these legends
have many features in common with those of other lands, myths of
conflict between wind and sun, and the ambition of heroes to scale
the heights of heaven. How far these similarities are the independ-
ent products of similar situations, and how far the results of loans,
cannot at present be determined.
The moral-religious literature of the Babylonians is not inferior in
interest to the stories just mentioned. The hymns to the gods are
characterized by a sublimity and depth of feeling which remind us of
the odes of the Hebrew Psalter. The penitential hymns appear to
contain expressions of sorrow for sin, which would indicate a high
development of the religious consciousness. These hymns, apparently
a part of the temple ritual, probably belong to a relatively late stage


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of history; but they are none the less proof that devotional feeling in
ancient times was not limited to any one country.
Other productions, such as the hymn to the seven evil spirits
(celebrating their mysterious power), indicate a lower stage of reli-
gious feeling; this is specially visible in the magic formulas, which
portray a very early stratum of religious history. They recall the
Shamanism of Central Asia and the rites of savage tribes; but there
is no reason to doubt that the Semitic religion in its early stages
contained this magic element, which is found all the world over.
Riddles and Proverbs are found among the Babylonians, as among
all peoples. Comparatively few have been discovered, and these pre-
sent nothing of peculiar interest.