It is presumably upon the mountain that the plant grows whose magical power will insure the happy delivery of the expected offspring. Harper calls attention to a remarkable parallel to this incident which is found in the Armenian and Mandaean legends of the birth of Rustem, the son of Sal. The latter's wife is unable to deliver her child because of its size. Sal, who was reared by an eagle, has in his possession a pinion of the eagle, by means of which he can, when in distress, invoke the presence of the bird. The father throws the pinion into the fire, and the eagle appears. The latter gives the mother a medicinal potion, and the child is cut out of the womb. Etana, like Rustem, is accompanied by an eagle, and it would appear that the eagle aids Etana in obtaining the plant.[1018] The eagle, in many mythologies, is a symbol of the sun, and it is plausible to conclude that the bird is sent to Etana at the instigation of Shamash. Who the son is that Etana expects we are not told, and naturally from a single episode like this—and one so fragmentarily preserved—no safe conclusions may be drawn. But the epic (if we may apply this term) must have recounted some achievements of Etana, and as the 'strong' one, his deeds must have borne some resemblance to those of Gilgamesh. The birth of the son, it is furthermore fair to presume, took place towards the end of Etana's career, when his own life was drawing to a close. If a fragment[1019] of the tale were only better preserved, we would have an episode of Etana's earlier career. But such is the condition of this fragment that, at the most, it can be said that Etana is engaged in some conflict against a city, in which Ishtar, Bel, the Anunnaki, the Igigi, and some minor gods, as En-ninna, Sibittum, are involved. The Etana series, as we learn from the colophon to this fragment, was known by a designation in which a city[1020] occurs, and it may be that this is the city against which Etana, aided by the gods, proceeds. Leaving this aside, it is fortunate that we have at least another episode in Etana's career which enables us to establish the connecting link between the hero as an historical personage and as a god or demi-god. As Gilgamesh offers an insult to Ishtar, so Etana encounters the ill-will of the great goddess, though through no direct offense. The eagle tempts Etana to mount with him into the upper regions. Etana is represented as giving, in part, an account of this adventure, in the first person. The gates of the upper regions are opened, and Etana is terrified at the majestic sight which greets him. He sees a throne, and throws himself on his countenance in terror. The gates are significantly designated as the gate of Anu, Bel, and Ea, and the gate of Sin, Shamash, Ramman, and Ishtar. The introduction of the two classes of the theological triads[1021] reveals the influence of a scholastic elaboration of some popular myth. The eagle reassures Etana, and addresses him as follows:

Etana obeys, and thus, securely attached to the eagle, begins the daring journey. They fly for the space of a double hour,[1022] when

In this way they reach the gate of Anu, Bel, and Ea in safety, where they take a rest. The eagle is not yet satisfied, and urges Etana to follow him to the domain of Ishtar.

The gods, it will be seen, dwell on high in accordance with the view developed by astronomical speculations.[1025] Anu, Bel, and Ea are here evidently identified with the fixed stars bearing their names,[1026] while under Ishtar the planet Ishtar-Venus is meant. Etana yields to the eagle's suggestion. They mount still higher. Earth and ocean grow still smaller, the former appearing only as large as 'a garden bed,' the latter like 'a courtyard.' For three double hours they fly. Etana appears to warn the eagle to desist from his rash intention, but the warning comes too late. Etana and the eagle are thrown down from the lofty regions. With lightning speed the descent takes place, until the two reach the ground. The further course of the narrative is obscure. Was Etana punished by being sent to the nether world, where we find him in the Gilgamesh epic?[1027] There is a reference, unfortunately quite obscure, to the death of Etana, and perhaps to his shade,[1028] in a portion of the tablet. One certainly expects both Etana and the eagle to be punished for their rash act, but until we can determine with certainty what became of both, and with what purport the tale is introduced into the career of Etana, the question must be left open, as also the possibility of a connection between this flight of Etana and the similar Greek myth of Ganymede. The introduction of the eagle points clearly to the mythological character of the tale, but flights of eagles occur so frequently in the myths and legends of various nations that no great stress is to be laid upon further parallels that might be adduced.[1029] The story found in Aelian and which has already been referred to[1030] alone calls for mention here. According to this story, Gilgamesh, whose birth is feared by his cruel grandfather Sokkaros, king of Babylonia, is thrown from the tower where his mother was imprisoned and in which he was born, but in falling is caught by an eagle and taken to a gardener who rears the child. The eagle being the associate of Etana, the suspicion is justified that the child thus miraculously saved is in reality Etana and not Gilgamesh. At all events, there must be some connection between the story of Aelian and the Babylonian legend under consideration. The fate of the eagle is recounted in another tablet of the Etana series,[1031] which again furnishes an episode paralleled in the mythologies of other nations.

The eagle has lost favor with Shamash. Enmity has arisen between the eagle and the serpent, and, curiously enough, the latter stands under the protection of the sun-god. What the cause of the enmity between eagle and serpent was, may have been recounted in a missing portion of the tablet. The eagle forms a plan of destroying the serpent's brood. He is warned against this act by a young eagle, who is designated as a 'very clever young one.'

But the eagle, we are told, paid no heed to the warning.

The serpent appeals to Shamash. He tells the sun-god of the cruel deed of the eagle:

Shamash responds to the appeal:

This devilish plan is successfully carried out. With considerable skill the narrative describes how the eagle, suspecting some mischief, did not join the other birds, but when he saw that they escaped without harm felt reassured. He tells his brood:

The eagle is again warned by his "very clever" offspring. The rest of his brood join in the appeal, but

Still, he is not entirely free from suspicion, and the narrative continues:

Detecting nothing to justify his suspicions, he digs his beak into the carcass, but scarcely has he done so when the serpent seizes hold of him. The eagle cries for mercy, and promises the serpent a present of whatever he desires. The serpent is relentless. To release the eagle would be to play false to Shamash.

Thus the serpent justifies what he is about to do. In accordance with the instructions of the sun-god, the eagle is stripped of his wings and feathers, and left to die a miserable death. In its present form this tale of the eagle and serpent forms part of the Etana story.[1037] Jeremias is right in questioning whether it originally had anything to do with Etana.[1038] Two distinct stories have been combined, much as in the Gilgamesh epic several tales have been thrown together. The association of Etana with the eagle suggests the introduction of the episode of the eagle's discomfiture. If one may judge of the two episodes related of Etana, he is not a personage regarded with favor by the compilers. In both episodes we find him in distress. His flight with the eagle is regarded as a defiance of the gods, though more blame attaches to the eagle than to him. Shamash can hardly have regarded with favor the ambition of a human being to mount to the dwelling of the gods. Gilgamesh makes no such attempt, and Parnapishtim is not carried on high, but to "the confluence of the streams." Gilgamesh, it will also be recalled, is unable to pass to the nether world where Eabani is placed, and in the following chapter we will come across a tale intended to illustrate the impossibility of any one ever returning from the hollow under the earth where the dead dwell. The story of Etana appears, therefore, to emphasize the equal impossibility for any mortal to ascend to the dwelling of the gods. Etana is deified, but he belongs permanently to the region where all mortals go after their career on earth is ended,—the nether world. One gains the impression, therefore, that Etana is a hero of antiquity who is not approved of by the Babylonian priests. Similarly, the conflict between the eagle and the serpent suggests an opposition to the view which makes the eagle the symbol and messenger of Shamash. The eagle recalls the winged disc, the symbol of Ashur,[1039] and the eagle occurs also as a standard among the Hittites,[1040] with whom, as we know, the Babylonians came into contact. The story of Shamash, himself, laying the trap for the eagle looks like a myth produced with some specific intent, an illustration of legitimate sun-worship against rival cults. As a matter of course, in the case of such a myth, it is difficult to say where its popular character ends and the speculative or scholastic theory begins. But whatever may have been the original purport of the tale, for our purposes its significance consists in the view unfolded of Shamash as the one who wreaks vengeance on the evil-doer. Shamash appears in the episode in the rôle of the just judge that characterizes him in the hymns and incantations. Etana's reliance upon the eagle leads to disgrace and defeat. In a representation of the hero's flight on a seal cylinder,[1041] the disapproval of the act is indicated by the addition of two dogs in a crouching position, their gaze directed towards the bird. The dogs are a symbol of the solar-god Marduk.[1042]

The Legend of Dibbarra.

Of more direct religious import is a story recounted in a series comprising five tablets of the deeds of the war and plague-god whose name is provisionally read Dibbarra.[1043] He is a solar deity identified in the theological system of the Babylonians with Nergal, but originally distinct and in all probability one of the numerous local solar deities of Babylonia like Nin-girsu and Nin-gishzida, Ishum and others, whose rôles are absorbed by one or the other of the four great solar deities,—Shamash, Marduk, Ninib, and Nergal. Nergal representing the sun of midday and of the summer solstice, which brings in its wake destruction of various kinds, it was appropriate that a god who came to be specifically viewed as the god who causes disease should be regarded as an aspect of the terrible Nergal. In the legend that we are about to consider, Dibbarra appears as the god of war. He is designated as the 'warrior.' The name of the god is written ideographically with a sign that has the meaning of 'servant' and 'man.' To this sign the phonetic complement ra is added. In view of a passage in a lexicographical tablet, according to which the name of the god is designated as the equivalent of the god Gir-ra, Jensen concluded that the name was to be read Gira, and Delitzsch[1044] is inclined to follow him. A difficulty, however, arises through the circumstance that the element Gir in the name Gir-ra is itself an ideograph. In any case, the designation of the god as a 'servant' shows that he is described here by an epithet,[1045] and not by his real name, which is to be sought rather in the sense of 'strong,' that is one of the meanings of the ideograph gir. The epithet 'servant' belongs to the period when the god took his place in the theological system as one of the attendants of the great Nergal, just as the plague-god is himself accompanied by a god Ishum, who acts as a kind of messenger or attendant to him. It should be added that what little evidence there was for the conventional reading Dibbarra[1046] has now been dispelled, so that but for the desire to avoid useless additions to the nomenclature of the Babylonian deities, the form Gir-ra would have been introduced here, as for the present preferable.

Where the cult of Dibbarra centered we do not know, but that he presided over a district that must have played a prominent part at some period of Babylonian history is shown by the elaborate legend of his deeds for which, as in the case of Gilgamesh and Etana, we are justified in assuming an historical background. In fact, the legend of Dibbarra is naught but a poetic and semi-mythical disguise for severe conflicts waged against certain Babylonian cities by some rival power that had its seat likewise in the Euphrates Valley.

Of the five tablets, but four fragments have as yet been found in such a condition as to be utilized. The longest of these contains an address to Dibbarra by his faithful attendant Ishum, in which the power of the war-god is praised and some of his deeds recounted.

The reference in these lines is to an attack upon the city of Babylon. The war-god is pictured as striking out in all directions, imprisoning the inhabitants of Babylon within the city walls, working havoc outside of the city, and not stopping short at entering the palace. The metaphor of the war-god taking on the form of a lion confirms the identification of Dibbarra with Nergal, who is generally pictured as a lion.

In the following lines the enemy who makes this attack on Babylon is introduced. He is designated as a 'governor,' and Dibbarra is represented as giving him certain instructions to carry out. The title 'governor' given to this enemy may be taken as an indication that the epic deals with the rivalry existing among the states of Babylonia, each represented by its capital. Ishum continues his address to Dibbarra:

Dibbarra is represented as addressing this governor:

Ishum continues his narrative:

Dagan is here used for Bel,[1049] and the phrase 'servitors of Anu and Dagan' embraces the inhabitants of Babylon. Marduk, the lord of Babylon, is enraged at the sight, but apparently is powerless.

At this point the tablet is defective, and when it again becomes intelligible we find Ishum describing an attack of Dibbarra upon another of the great centers of the Euphrates Valley—the city of Uruk. Uruk is called the 'dwelling of Anu and Ishtar,' the city of the Kizrêti, Ukhâti, and Kharimâti[1050]—the sacred harlots. Uruk suffers the same fate as Babylon:

Her opposition, however, is as powerless to stem Dibbarra's attack as was Marduk's grief at the onslaught on Babylon.

Dibbarra's greed is insatiable. Ishum continues his address to him:

The following lines reveal the purpose of Ishum's long speech. A war more terrible even than the conflicts recounted is planned by Ishum, one that is to involve all creation and extend to the higher regions. Ishum asks Dibbarra's consent to the fearful destruction held in view:

The lines remind one of the description in the Gilgamesh epic of the terror aroused by the deluge,[1053] and one might be tempted to combine Dibbarra's speech with the preceding words of Ishum, and interpret this part of the Dibbarra legend as another phase of the same nature myth, which enters as a factor in the narrative of the Deluge. However, the continuation of Dibbarra's speech shows that a great military conflict is foretold. The countries named are those adjacent to Babylonia, and the intention of the writer is evidently to imply that the whole world is to be stirred up. This fearful state of hostility is to continue until

Akkad, it will be recalled, is a name for Babylonia. The triumph of Babylon is foretold in these lines. The Akkadian is, therefore, none other than Hammurabi, who succeeds in obtaining the supremacy over the entire Euphrates Valley, and whose successors for many centuries claimed control of the four quarters of the world.

It is evident from this 'prophecy' that the Dibbarra legend received its final shape under influences emanating from Babylon, precisely as we found to be the case in the 'creation' story and in the Gilgamesh epic. The hostility that precedes the coming of Hammurabi points to the violence of the conflicts in which that warrior was engaged, while the exaggeration of this hostility shows how strong and permanent the impression of Hammurabi's achievements must have been. The designation of the conqueror as the Akkadian gives him to a certain extent the character of a Messiah, who is to inaugurate an era of peace, and whose coming will appease the grim Dibbarra. It is by no means impossible that Hebrew and Christian conceptions of a general warfare which is to precede the golden age of peace are influenced by the Babylonian legend under consideration.

Dibbarra gives his consent to Ishum's plan:

Ishum proceeds to do so. The mountain Khi-khi is the first to be attacked.

In a geographical list[1056] a mountain Khi-khi, belonging to the Amoritic country, is mentioned, and a mountain Khashur described as a cedar district. There can be, therefore, no doubt that some military expedition to western lands is recounted in our tablet. The continuation of the narrative is lost, all but a small fragment,[1057] which tells of the destruction of a city—otherwise unknown—called Inmarmaru. At the instigation of Dibbarra, Ishum enters this city and destroys it. The outrages committed are described at some length. Ea, the god of humanity, hears of the havoc wrought. He is 'filled with wrath.' Unfortunately, the fragment is too mutilated to permit us to ascertain what steps Ea takes against Dibbarra. Marduk is also mentioned in this connection. Under the circumstances, one can only conjecture that in the missing portions of this tablet, and perhaps also in two others, the wars preceding the advent of the Akkadian[1058] are recounted in poetic and semi-mythical form. If this conjecture is justified, the main purport at least of the Dibbarra legend becomes clear. It is a collection of war-songs recalling the Hebrew anthology, "Battles of Yahwe,"[1059] in which the military exploits of the Hebrews were poetically set forth.

The closing tablet of the Dibbarra legend is preserved,[1060] though only in part. It describes the appeasement of the dreadful war-god. All the gods, together with the Igigi and Anunnaki, are gathered around Dibbarra, who addresses them:

He tells how he destroyed the flocks and devastated the fruits in the fields, how he swept over the lands, punishing the just and the wicked alike, and sparing no one. Ishum takes up the strain and urges Dibbarra to desist from his wrath:

The era of peace and prosperity is thus inaugurated, and the legend closes with solemn assurances from Dibbarra that he will bless and protect those who properly honor him.

This closing address represents a late addition to the poem that somewhat modifies its original import. Wars did not cease with the establishment of Babylon's control. Many conflicts arose, but on the whole, Babylonia was an empire of peace. The people were inclined towards a life of ease, and the development of commerce served as a wholesome check against too frequent military disturbances. The war-songs, as a glorification of the nation's past, retained their popularity, but the lesson drawn from the songs was the great blessing that peace and freedom from turmoil brought with them. For the warlike Assyrians, Dibbarra enraged may have been a more popular figure, but to the peace-loving Babylonian, the appeased Dibbarra appealed with greater force. The story of Dibbarra's deeds became in this way in the course of time an object lesson, a kind of religious allegory handed down from one generation to the other as an illustration of the horrors of war and of violence in general. With the tendency—so characteristic of the Babylonian religion[1064]—for great gods to absorb the rôles of minor ones, Nergal became the god of war par excellence, while Dibbarra, Ishum, and Sibi were chiefly viewed as powers responsible for such forms of violence as pestilence and distress. To ensure the favor of a god of pestilence was of importance for every individual, and one of the safest means of obtaining this favor was to sing his praises, to recall his power,—to glorify him and thus to keep him, as it were, in good humor. What better means of accomplishing this than to have the record of his deeds constantly before one's eyes? The British Museum contains two specimens of tablets on which a portion of the Dibbarra legend is inscribed, and which are pierced with holes in a manner as to leave no doubt[1065] that the tablets were intended to be hung up in houses with a view of securing protection from Dibbarra and his associates. The reference in the closing lines of the story:

thus becomes clear. As the Hebrews were commanded, in order to secure the protection of Yahwe, to write his law

so the Babylonians were instructed by their priests to hang tablets in their homes—probably at the entrance—on which Dibbarra was glorified. Naturally, it was impossible to inscribe the whole story on a little tablet, just as it was impossible to place the entire law of Yahwe on the doorposts. In both cases a significant extract served as a part, representative of the whole. In the case of the Dibbarra legend, the closing portion was selected, which emphasized the necessity of keeping the deeds of Dibbarra and the greatness of his power in mind. Like the Gilgamesh epic, so the Dibbarra legend was to be taught by the father to his son. The scribes were enjoined to teach the story to the people. The poets were to make it the subject of their songs, and kings and nobles were not exempt from the obligation to listen to the tale.

The Myth of the Storm-God Zu.

Birds and bulls were to the Babylonians the symbols of storms and clouds. In the Gilgamesh epic, it will be recalled, Anu sends a divine bull to engage in a contest with Gilgamesh.[1067] The text of the epic being unfortunately defective, we have no definite indication of the character of the attack to be made upon the hero by the messenger from the god of heaven; but since storms and disease are the two chief weapons in the hands of the gods, and inasmuch as Gilgamesh in a later section of the epic is struck down by disease, it is more than likely that the bull represents a storm that is to sweep the hero and his companion off the earth. The winged bulls placed at the entrance of palaces embody the same idea, and in addition to the explanation for these fantastic figures above[1068] suggested, it is noteworthy that the two types of animals chosen for this symbolical decoration of edifices, the bull and the lion, again illustrate the same two means at the disposal of the gods for the punishment of man, the bull representing the storms, and the lion being the symbol of Nergal, who is the god of pestilence, as well as of war and of violent destruction in general.

A storm-god symbolized under the form of a bird is Zu. The underlying stem of the word conveys the notion of strength and violence. How bulls came to be chosen as symbols of storms is not altogether clear. Possibly the element of "strength" formed the connecting link in the chain of the association of ideas. In the case of birds, on the other hand, the association is to be sought in the appearance of the clouds during a storm moving across the heavens like a flock of birds. In the Etana legend, a reference occurs to Zu, who, as it would appear, is unable to escape from the control of the supreme judge Shamash.[1069] Zu is there called the chief worker of evil—a kind of arch satan. A story has been found which illustrates an attempt made by the bird Zu to break loose from the control of the sun. A storm was viewed as a conflict between the clouds and the sun, much as an eclipse symbolized a revolt in the heavens. The myth represents the conflict as taking place between Zu and En-lil, the Bel of Nippur. The latter holds in his possession the tablets of fate, by means of which he enjoys supreme authority over men and gods. Zu's jealousy is aroused, and he plans to tear these tablets from En-lil. The tablets of fate, it will be recalled, play an important part in the Marduk-Tiâmat episode.[1070] Kingu—the symbol of chaos, like Tiâmat—wears them on his breast, but he is obliged to yield them to the conqueror of Tiâmat and of her brood, who replaces 'chaos' by 'order.' This conqueror was originally Bel of Nippur, and the Zu myth in representing En-lil as holding the tablets of fate confirms the view above set forth,[1071] according to which the original Tiâmat tale has been modified by the substitution of Marduk for the old Bel. But the story, while thus admitting the legitimacy of En-lil's claim to supreme power, is yet so constructed as to contribute to the glory of Marduk. The attack of the Zu-bird was suggested—as the Tiâmat myth—by the annual storms that work such havoc in Babylonia. The forces of 'chaos' are let loose, and an attempt is made to overthrow the 'order' of the world, symbolized by the tablets of fate which En-lil holds in his possession. Whoever has these tablets is invincible. But En-lil is unable to resist the attack of Zu. The tablets are taken away from him, and it is left for Marduk to recapture them. The tablets once in Marduk's possession, En-lil's supremacy comes to an end, and the triumph of Marduk is complete. To substantiate this interpretation of the myth, an analysis of the text is necessary. The beginning of the story is unfortunately missing. It appears to have been devoted to a glorification of the god who controls the fate of the universe. The second column opens as follows:

From the context it is clear that Bel of Nippur is meant. Up to this point, the myth reflects the old view according to which it was En-lil who succeeded in overcoming Tiâmat or at any rate, in snatching the tablets of fate from the breast of Kingu. Nippur's god lays claim to being the one who established 'order' in the universe. His authority could only be threatened if he were robbed of the tablets which symbolize absolute control over the course of affairs. Zu boldly attempts this:

Zu proceeds to the dwelling-place of En-lil and waits for a favorable moment to make an attack.

On seal cylinders a god is frequently pictured pouring forth streams of water from jars placed on his shoulders. This is generally the sun-god, but the symbol also seems to belong to other deities[1077] and is appropriate to Bel of Nippur, who as the god of the atmosphere above the earth, controls the upper waters. As long as these are poured out by him, they are beneficent; but once beyond his control, the blessing of rain is turned into the curse of a deluge and storm, flooding the fields and sweeping away the habitations of men. This misfortune happens when Zu robs En-lil of the tablets by means of which law and order are established. En-lil is powerless. The bold act of Zu causes consternation among the gods. Anu calls upon some one to pursue Zu and capture him. The bird dwells in an inaccessible recess in the mountains, and the gods are afraid to approach his nest. The scene that ensues reminds us of the episode of the creation epic, where Anshar calls upon Anu, Bel, and Ea in turn to subdue Tiâmat.