The governor of Kuî had at length triumphed over the obstinacy of the Mushki, and after driving them from village to village, had compelled them to sue for terms: the tidings of the victories over the Kaldâ had doubtless hastened their decision, but they were still so powerful that it was thought wiser not to impose too rigorous conditions upon them. Mita agreed to pay tribute, and surrendered one or two districts, which were turned into an Aramæan settlement: the inhabitants were transferred to Bît-Yakîn, where they had to make the best they could of lands that had been devastated by war. At this juncture the Greeks of Cyprus flattered the pride of the Assyrians in a most unexpected way: after the manner of their race they scoured the seas, and their fleets persistently devastated the coasts of Syria and Cilicia.

Seven of their kings were so far alarmed by the report of Sargon’s achievements as to dread punishment for their misdeeds. They therefore sent him presents, and, for the moment, abandoned their piratical expeditions in Phoenician waters. The homage of these inveterate robbers raised Sargon in his own eyes and in those of his subjects. Some years later, about 708 B.C., he presented them with a stele of black marble, on which he had engraved his own portrait, together with a long inscription setting forth his most glorious exploits. They set it up at Kition (Citium), where it has been preserved amongst the ruins, a priceless witness to the greatness of Assyria.

While war thus raged around him, Sargon still found time for works of a peaceful character. He set himself to remodel and complete the system of irrigation in the Assyrian plain; he repaired the dykes, and cleaned out and made good the beds of the canals which had been neglected during the troublous times of the last generation. He erected buildings at Calah* and at Nineveh, but in these cities everything seemed to recall too vividly the memory of the sovereigns who had gone before him: he wished for a capital which should belong to himself alone, where he would not be reminded of a past in which he had no part. After meditating day and night, his choice fell upon the village of Maganubba, a little to the north-east of Nineveh, in a wide plain which extends from the banks of the Khuzur to the hills of Muzri, and by a single decree he expropriated all its inhabitants. He then built on the land which he had purchased from them a city of unrivalled magnificence, which he called by his own name, Dur-Sharrukîn.**

The ground plan of it is of rectangular shape, the sides being about 1900 yards long by 1800 yards wide, each corner exactly facing one of the four points of the compass. Its walls rest on a limestone sub-structure some three feet six inches high, and rise fifty-seven feet above the ground; they are strengthened, every thirty yards or so, by battlemented towers which project thirteen feet from the face of the wall and stand sixteen feet higher than the ramparts.*

Access was gained to the interior by eight gates, two on each side of the square, each of them marked by two towers separated from one another by the width of the bay. Every gate had its patron, chosen from among the gods of the city; there was the gate of Shamash, the gate of Rammân, those of Bel and Beltis, of Ami, of Tshtar, of Eâ, and of the Lady of the Gods. Each of them was protected externally by a migdol, or small castle, built in the Syrian style, and flanked at each corner by a low tower thirteen yards in width; five allowed of the passage of beasts as well as men. It was through these that the peasants came in every morning, driving their cattle before them, or jolting along in waggons laden with fruit and vegetables. After passing the outposts, they crossed a paved courtyard, then made their way between the two towers through a vaulted passage over fifty yards long, intersected at almost equal intervals by two transverse galleries. The other three gates had a special arrangement of their own; a flight of twelve steps built out in front of the courtyard rendered them inaccessible to animals or vehicles. At the entrance to the passage towered two colossal bulls with human heads, standing like sentinels—their faces and foreparts turned outward, their hind-quarters ranged along the inner walls—as though gazing before them into space in company with two winged genii. The arch supported by their mitred heads was ornamented by a course of enamelled bricks, on which other genii, facing one another in pairs, offered pine-cones across a circular ornament of many colours. These were the mystic guardians of the city, who shielded it not only from the attacks of men, but also from invasions of evil spirits and pernicious diseases. The rays of the sun made the forecourt warm in winter, while it was always cool under the archway in summer; the gates served as resorts for pleasure or business, where old men and idlers congregated to discuss their affairs and settle the destinies of the State, merchants bargained and disposed of their goods, and the judge and notables of the neighbouring quarter held their courts.

It was here that the king generally exposed to view the chieftains and kings whom he had taken captive; here they lay, chained like dogs in cages, dependent on the pity of their guards or of passers-by for such miserable fare as might be flung to them, and, the first feeling of curiosity once passed, no longer provoking even the jeers of the crowd, until a day came when their victor took it into his head to remove them from their ignominious position, and either restored them to their thrones or sent them to the executioner.* The town itself, being built from plans drawn up by one mind, must have presented few of the irregularities of outline characteristic of ancient cities.

The streets leading from the gates were of uniform breadth throughout, from one side of the enclosure to the other. They were paved, had no sideways or footpaths, and crossed one another at right angles. The houses on either side of them seem, for the most part, to have consisted of a single story. They were built of bricks, either baked or unbaked, the outer surfaces of which were covered with white or tinted rough-casting. The high and narrow doors were nearly always hidden away in a corner of the front; the bare monotony of the walls was only relieved here and there at long intervals by tiny windows, but often instead of a flat roof the building was surmounted by a conical dome or by semi-cupolas, the concave sides of which were turned inwards. The inhabitants varied greatly in race and language: Sargon had filled his city with prisoners collected from all the four quarters of his empire, from Elam, Chaldæa, and Media, from Urartu and Tabal, Syria and Palestine, and in order to keep these incongruous elements in check he added a number of Assyrians, of the mercantile, official, or priestly classes. He could overlook the whole city from the palace which he had built on both sides the north-eastern wall of the town, half within and half without the ramparts. Like all palaces built on the Euphratean model, this royal castle stood on an artificial eminence of bricks formed of two rectangles joined together in the shape of the letter T. The only entrance to it was on the city side, foot-passengers being admitted by a double flight of steps built out in front of the ramparts, horsemen and chariots by means of an inclined plane which rose in a gentle gradient along the right flank of the masonry work, and terminated on its eastern front. Two main gates corresponded to these two means of approach; the one on the north-east led straight to the royal apartments, the other faced the city and opened on to the double staircase. It was readily distinguishable from a distance by its two flagstaffs bearing the royal standard, and its two towers, at the base of which were winged bulls and colossal figures of Gilgames crushing the lion.

Two bulls of still more monstrous size stood sentry on either side of the gate, the arch was outlined by a course of enamelled bricks, while higher up, immediately beneath the battlements, was an enamelled mosaic showing the king in all his glory. This triumphal arch was reserved for his special use, the common people being admitted by two side doors of smaller size less richly decorated.

Saragon resided at Caleh, where he had taken up his quarters in the former palace of Assur-nazir-pal, while his new city was still in the hands of the builders. Every moment that he could spare from his military and administrative labours was devoted to hastening on the progress of the work, and whenever he gained a victory or pillaged a district, he invariably set aside a considerable part of the booty in order to meet the outlay which the building involved. Thus we find that on returning from his tenth campaign he brought with him an immense convoy laden with timber, stone, and precious metals which he had collected in the neighbourhood of Mount Taurus or among the mountains of Assyria, including coloured marbles, lapis-lazuli, rock crystal, pine, cedar, and cypress-wood, gold, silver, and bronze, all of which was destined for Dur-Sharrukîn; the quantity of silver included among these materials was so great that its value fell to a level with that of copper.

The interior of the building, as in the case of the old Chaldæan palaces, was separated into two well-marked divisions. The larger of these was used by the king in his public capacity, and to this the nobles and soldiers, and even the common people, were admitted under certain conditions and on certain days prescribed by custom. The outer court was lined on three sides by warehouses and depots, in which were stored the provisions, commodities, and implements required for the host of courtiers and slaves who depended on the sovereign for support. Each room had, as may still be seen, its own special purpose. There were cellars for wine and oil, with their rows of large oblong jars; then there were store-rooms for implements of iron, which Place found full of rusty helmets, swords, pieces of armour, maces, and ploughshares; a little further on were rooms for the storage of copper weapons, enamelled bricks, and precious metals, and the king’s private treasury, in which were hidden away the spoils of the vanquished or the regular taxes paid by his subjects; some fine bronze lions of marvellous workmanship and lifelike expression were found still shut up here.

The kitchens adjoined the pantries, and the stables for horses and camels communicated direct with the coach-houses in which the state chariots were kept, while the privies were discreetly hidden in a secluded corner. On the other side, among the buildings occupying the southern angle of the courtyard, the menials of the palace lived huddled together, each family quartered in small, dark rooms. The royal apartments, properly so called, stood at the back of these domestic offices, facing the south-east, near the spot where the inclined plane debouched on to the city ramparts. The monumental entrance to these apartments was guarded, in accordance with religious custom, by a company of winged bulls; behind this gate was a lawn, then a second gate, a corridor and a grand quadrangle in the very centre of the palace.

The king occupied a suite of some twenty rooms of a rather simple character; here he slept, ate, worked, and transacted the greater part of his daily business, guarded by his eunuchs and attended by his ministers and secretaries. The remaining rooms were apartments of state, all of the same pattern, in which the crowd of courtiers and employés assembled while waiting for a private audience or to intercept the king as he passed. A subdued light made its way from above through narrow windows let into the massive arches. The walls were lined to a height of over nine feet from the floor with endless bas-reliefs, in greyish alabaster, picked out in bright colours, and illustrating the principal occupations in which the sovereign spent his days, such as the audiences to ambassadors, hunting in the woods, sieges and battles. A few brief inscriptions interspersed above pictures of cities and persons indicated the names of the vanquished chiefs or the scenes of the various events portrayed; detailed descriptions were engraved on the back of the slabs facing the brick wall against which they rested. This was a precautionary measure, the necessity for which had been but too plainly proved by past experience. Every one—the king himself included—well knew that some day or other Dur-Sharrukîn would be forsaken just as the palaces of previous dynasties had been, and it was hoped that inscriptions concealed in this manner would run a better chance of escaping the violence of man or the ravages of time; preserved in them, the memory of Sargon would rise triumphant from the ruins. The gods reigned supreme over the north-east angle of the platform, and a large irregular block of buildings was given up to their priests; their cells contained nothing of any particular interest, merely white walls and black plinths, adorned here and there with frescoes embellished by arabesques, and pictures of animals and symbolical genii. The ziggurât rose to a height of some 141 feet above the esplanade. It had seven storeys dedicated to the gods of the seven planets, each storey being painted in the special colour of its god—the first white, the second black, the third purple, the fourth blue, the fifth a vermilion red; the sixth was coated with silver, and the seventh gilded. There was no chamber in the centre of the tower, but a small gilded chapel probably stood at its base, which was used for the worship of Assuf or of Ishtar. The harem, or Bît-riduti, was at the southern corner of the enclosure, almost in the shadow of the ziggurât. Sargon had probably three queens when he founded his city, for the harem is divided into three separate apartments, of which the two larger look out on the same quadrangle.

Two courses of enamelled bricks ran along the base of the façade, while statues were placed at intervals against the wall, and the bay of the gateway was framed by two bronze palm trees gilt: the palm being the emblem of fruitfulness and grace, no more fitting decoration could have been chosen for this part of the building. The arrangement was the same in all three divisions: an ante-chamber of greater width than length; an apartment, one half of which was open to the sky, while the other was covered by a half-dome, and a flight of twelve steps, leading to an alcove in which stood a high wooden couch. The queens and princesses spent their lives in this prison-like bît-riduti: their time was taken up with dress, embroidery, needlework, dancing and singing, the monotony of this routine being relieved by endless quarrels, feuds, and intrigues. The male children remained in the harem until the age of puberty, when they left it in order to continue their education as princes and soldiers under the guidance of their father.*

This group of buildings was completed by a park, in which cedars of Lebanon, pines, cypresses, gazelles, stags, wild asses and cattle, and even lions, were acclimatised, in addition to a heterogeneous collection of other trees and animals. Here, the king gave himself up to the pleasures of the chase, and sometimes invited one or other of his wives to come thither and banquet or drink with him.

After Mita’s surrender, Sargon had hoped to be allowed to finish building his city in peace; but an ill-advised movement in Kummukh obliged him to don his harness again (708 B.C.). King Mutallu had entered into an alliance with Argistis of Urartu, and took the field with his army; but when details of what had taken place in Chaldæa reached his ears, and he learnt the punishment that had been inflicted on the people of Bît-Yakin, his courage failed him.

He fled without waiting for the Assyrians to appear, and so great was his haste that he had no time to take his family and treasure with him. Sargon annexed his kingdom, placed it under the government of the tartan, and incorporated into his own the whole army of Kummukh, including 150 chariots, 1500 horsemen, 20,000 archers, and 10,000 pikemen. In the following year (707) his vassal Dalta died, leaving two sons, Nibi and Ishpabara, both of whom claimed possession of the fief of Ellipi; Nibi appealed to Elam for help, and Ishpabara at once turned for aid to Assyria. Sargon sent him a body of troops, commanded by seven of his generals, while Shutruk-nakhunta lent his protégé 4500 bowmen; Ishpabara won the day, took the city of Marubishti by storm, and compelled his brother to take refuge in Susian territory. The affair wras over so quickly that it caused practically no delay in the completion of the works at the capital. The consecration of a new city necessitated the observance of a host of complicated ceremonies, which extended over several months. First of all provision had to be made for its religious worship; the omens were consulted in order to determine which of the gods were to be invoked, and, when this was decided, there followed the installation of the various statues and arks which were to preside over the destinies of the city and the priests to whom they were intrusted; the solemn inauguration took place on the 22nd day of Tisri, in the year 707 B.C., and from that day forward Dur-Sharrukîn occupied the rank officially assigned to it among the capitals of the empire. Sargon, however, did not formally take up his residence within it till six months later, on the 6th day of Iyyâr, 706. He must, by this time, have been advancing in years, and even if we assume him to have been a young man when he ascended the throne, after the sixteen years of bodily fatigue and mental worry through which he had passed since coming into power, he must have needed repose. He handed over the government of the northern provinces to his eldest son Sin-akhê-irba, better known to us as Sennacherib, whom he regarded as his successor; to him he transferred the responsibility of keeping watch over the movements of the Mannai, of Urartu, and of the restless barbarians who dwelt beyond the zone of civilised states on the banks of the Halys, or at the foot of the distant Caucasus: a revolt among the Tabal, in 706, was promptly suppressed by his young and energetic deputy. As for Sargon himself, he was content to retain the direct control of the more pacific provinces, such as Babylon, the regions of the Middle Euphrates, and Syria, and he doubtless hoped to enjoy during his later years such tranquillity as was necessary to enable him to place his conquests on a stable basis. The envious fates, however, allowed him but little more than twelve short months: he perished early in 705 B.C., assassinated by some soldier of alien birth, if I interpret rightly the mutilated text which furnishes us with a brief mention of the disaster. Sennacherib was recalled in haste from the frontier, and proclaimed king immediately on his arrival, thus ascending unopposed to the throne on the 12th day of Ab. His father’s body had been left unburied, doubtless in order that he might verify with his own eyes the truth of what had been told him concerning his death, and thus have no ground for harbouring suspicions that would have boded ill for the safety of the late king’s councillors and servants. He looked upon his father’s miserable ending as a punishment for some unknown transgression, and consulted the gods to learn what it was that had aroused their anger, refusing to authorise the burial within the palace until the various expiatory rites suggested by the oracle had been duly performed.*

Thus mysteriously disappeared the founder of the mightiest dynasty that ever ruled in Assyria, perhaps even in the whole of Western Asia. At first sight, it would seem easy enough to determine what manner of man he was and to what qualities he owed his greatness, thanks to the abundance of documents which his contemporaries have bequeathed to us; but when we come to examine more closely, we soon find the task to be by no means a simple one. The inscriptions maintain so discreet a silence with regard to the antecedents of the kings before their accession, and concerning their education and private life, that at this distance of time we cannot succeed in forming any clear idea as to their individual temperament and character. The monuments record such achievements as they took pride in, in terms of uniform praise which conceal or obliterate the personality of the king in question; it is always the ideal Assyrian sovereign who is held up for our admiration under a score of different names, and if, here and there, we come upon some trait which indicates the special genius of this or that monarch, we may be sure that the scribe has allowed it to slip in by accident, quite unconscious of the fact that he is thus affording us a glimpse of his master’s true character and disposition. A study of Sargon’s campaigns as revealed in his annals will speedily convince us that he was something more than a fearless general, with a keen eye to plunder, who could see nothing in the most successful expedition but a means of enriching his people or adding to the splendours of his court. He was evidently convinced that certain nations, such as Urartu and Elam, would never really assimilate with his own subjects, and, in their case, he adhered strictly to the old system of warfare, and did all he could to bring about their ruin; other nations, on the contrary, he regarded as capable of amalgamation with the Assyrians, and these he did his best to protect from the worst consequences of their rebellion and resistance. He withdrew them from the influence of their native dynasties, and converted their territories into provinces under his own vigilant administration, and though he did not scruple to send the more turbulent elements among them into exile, and did his best to weaken them by founding alien colonies in their midst, yet he respected their religion, customs, and laws, and, in return for their obedience to his rule, guaranteed them an equitable and judicious government. Moreover, he took quite as much interest in their well-being as’ in his own military successes, and in the midst of his heroic struggles against Rusas and Merodach-baladan he contrived to find time for the consideration of such prosaic themes as the cultivation of the vine and of corn; he devoted his attention to the best methods of storing wine, and sought to prevent “oil, which is the life of man and healeth wounds, from rising in price, and the cost of sesame from exceeding that of wheat.” We seem to see in him, not only the stern and at times cruel conqueror, but also the gracious monarch, kind and considerate to his people, and merciful to the vanquished when policy permitted him to indulge his natural leaning to clemency.

END OF VOL. VII.