Noah, son of Lamech, had reached the age of five hundred years, and had three sons, Shem, Ham, and Japhet; and at this time men had begun to multiply on the face of the earth, and daughters were born unto them; then “the sons of God saw the daughters of men that they were fair, and they took them wives of all that they chose.”
The question naturally arises, “Who were these sons of God?” According to Job xxxviii. 7, where we have the statement that “The morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy,” it would seem to be the angels that are intended by these words, and this is apparently the opinion generally held by scholars and divines on the subject. This view seems to be favoured by the Second Epistle of Peter (ii. 1), though, as the words do not actually agree with those of the text of Genesis quoted above, nothing very positive can be maintained concerning the apostle's dictum—in fact, his words in the passage referred to, “for if God spared not the angels that sinned, but cast them down to hell, and delivered them into chains and darkness, to be reserved unto [pg 086] judgment,” can much more reasonably be regarded as referring, and therefore giving authority to, the story of the fall of the angels, as indicated in Avitus, Caedmon, and Milton, a legend of which the germs are found in the Babylonian account of the Creation, referred to in Chapter I. The other passages of Job where this expression occurs (i. 6, and ii. 2) are not conclusive as to the meaning “angels,” for the expressions “sons of God,” in those passages, who are said to have come before the Almighty, may very well have been merely men.
However the matter may stand, for the passages in Job, there is every probability that it is not the angels that are intended in the description we are examining as to the reasons of the coming of the Flood. As the late George Bertin was the first to point out, the Babylonians often used the phrase “a son of his god,” apparently to designate “a just man,” or something similar. The connection in which this expression occurs is as follows—
In this passage the phrase in question is (in Akkadian) gišgallu dumu dingirana, and (in Assyrian) amēlu mâr îli-šu. It is a frequent expression in documents of this class, and always occurs in a similar connection. In some cases, instead of “the man, the son of his god,” the variation “the king, the [pg 087] son of his god” occurs, and is apparently to be paraphrased in the same way, and understood as “the pious king.”
May it not be, then, that “the sons of God,” who saw that the daughters of men were fair (lit. good), and took of them as many wives as they wanted, were those who were regarded as the pious men of the time? For who among the angels would at any time have thought of allying himself with an earthly and mortal spouse, and begetting children—offspring who should turn out to be “mighty men which were of old, men of renown,” as verse 4 has it? In this case, the “daughters of men” would be children of common people, not possessing any special piety or other virtue to recommend them, the only thing being that their daughters were fair, and good enough, in the opinion of those “sons of God,” to have as their wives.
It is apparently given as the result of these unions between the pious men and the daughters of the people that wickedness became rife in the earth, and man's imagination continually evil; and this was so to such an extent that the Almighty repented of having created man, and decided to destroy the wicked generation—both man, and beast, and creeping thing, and fowl of the air—dwelling upon the earth—all except Noah, who found favour in the eyes of Yahwah.
Having decided to destroy the life of the world by means of a flood, God communicated His intention and the reason thereof to the patriarch, and instructed him to build an ark in which he was to save both himself and his family from the impending destruction. The vessel is to be built of gopher-wood, to have rooms in it, and to be pitched within and without with pitch. The dimensions also are specified. Its length was to be three hundred cubits, its width fifty cubits, and its height thirty cubits. He was to [pg 088] make the ark “with light” (צהר or רהצ), that is, with windows, and their length or height, apparently, was to be a cubit. The vessel was to have a door, and to be built with three stories, lower, second, and third. In accordance with God's covenant with the patriarch, he, his sons, and his sons' wives were to be saved, along with every living thing, male and female of each kind. For all this great multitude a sufficiency of food was directed to be provided.
Then comes the command (the ark having been duly built, and all the directions followed) to enter into the vessel, and further instructions are given with regard to the creatures that are to be saved, with a slight modification in the numbers, for the clean beasts are to be taken in “by sevens,” and all the rest, “the unclean,” by pairs. God then announces that in seven days' time He will cause rain to come upon the earth for forty days and forty nights. “All the fountains of the great deep” were broken up, and the Lord shut up those upon whom He had favour in the ark.
Then, as the rain continued, the waters “prevailed exceedingly” upon the earth, and the high hills that were under the whole heaven were covered, the depth of the waters being “fifteen cubits and upwards.” Everything was destroyed, “Noah alone remained alive, and those who were with him in the ark.”
“And the waters prevailed upon the earth an hundred and fifty days.”
The “fountains of the deep” and “the windows of heaven” having been stopped, and the “rain from heaven” restrained, the waters abated, leaving the ark high and dry upon the mountains of Ararat; and after the tops of the mountains were seen, Noah looked out of the window that he had made. He then sent forth a raven and a dove, and the latter, not finding a resting-place, returned to him, to be sent forth again at the end of another week. The dove [pg 089] again returned bearing in her beak an olive-leaf. Seven days more passed, and the dove, having been sent out a third time, returned to him no more. Recognizing that the waters were now all returned into their old channels, and that the land was dry enough for him and his, Noah removed the covering of the vessel, and saw that his supposition was correct, and having received the command to come forth from the ark, which had been his abiding-place for so long, and to send forth the living creatures that were with him, the patriarch obeyed, and, when on dry land, built an altar to Yahwah, and offered burnt offerings thereon of every clean beast and every clean fowl.
“And the Lord smelled a sweet savour (lit. a savour of rest); and the Lord said in His heart, I will not again curse the ground any more for man's sake, for the imagination of man's heart is evil from his youth.... While the earth remaineth, seedtime and harvest, and cold and heat, and summer and winter, and day and night shall not cease.”
Then comes, in the ninth chapter, the blessing of God, with a charge concerning the shedding of blood. He makes also a covenant with Noah, by the sign of the rainbow, declaring that a like calamity shall never again come upon the earth to destroy all life that is upon it.
Such is, in short, the Bible story of the great flood that destroyed, at a remote age of the world, all life upon the earth. It is a narrative circumstantially told, with day, month, and year all indicated, and it forms a good subject for comparison with the Babylonian account, with which it agrees so closely in all the main points, and from which it differs so much in many essential details.
As in the case of the Babylonian story of the Creation, it has been thought well not only to give a fairly full translation of the Babylonian story of the Flood, but also to indicate under what circumstances [pg 090] that story appears in the series of tablets in which it is found.
The first to detect the nature of the series of tablets giving the story of the Flood was the late George Smith, who had unrivalled opportunities of making himself thoroughly acquainted with the treasures of the British Museum in the matter of Assyrian records. As the story runs, it was whilst searching for the fragments of the Creation-series that he came across a fragment of a tablet mentioning that “the ship rested on the mountain of Niṣir,” and this at once suggested to him that this was a reference to the Flood, as, in fact, it turned out to be. Continued and unremitting research among the treasures of the Department in which he was employed enabled him to bring together a large number of other fragments of the series, leaving, in fact, very little indeed for any future student to do in the way of collecting together texts from the fragments that he had an opportunity of examining. The Daily Telegraph expedition to Assyria, which was conducted by Mr. Smith himself, enabled him to add many other fragments to those which he had already recognized in the Oriental Department of the British Museum, and Mr. Rassam's very successful excavations in the same place have since very considerably increased the list of additions.
The story of the Flood, as known to the Babylonians and Assyrians, is one chapter or book of a legend consisting of twelve similar divisions, the first line of the series beginning with the words Ša naqba imûru, “He who saw everything,” and to this is added in the colophons, “the legend of Gilgameš.” The number of fragments extant is large, but the individual tablets are very imperfect, that giving the account of the Flood being by far the most complete, though even that has very regrettable lacunæ. Incomplete as the legend is as a whole, an attempt will nevertheless be made here to give some sort of a connected story, [pg 091] which may be regarded as accurate in all its main details.
The first tablet begins with the words that have been quoted above, “He who saw everything, [who] ... the land.” This is followed, it would seem, by a description of the hero, who, apparently, knew “the wisdom of the whole (of the lands?),” and “saw secret and hidden things.... He brought news of before the flood, went a distant road, and (suffered) dire fatigue (?).” All his journeyings and toils were, apparently, inscribed on tablets of stone, and records thus left for future ages.
Gilgameš, as we learn in the course of the narrative, was lord or king of Uruk supuri, or “Erech the walled,” and at the time when the story begins, the fortifications were in a ruinous state, and the treasury (?) of the sanctuary Ê-anna, the temple of the goddess Ištar, which is mentioned in the legend immediately after, was, we may suppose, empty. Other details of the desolation of the temple are given, and the ruinous state of the walls of the city are spoken of, together with the decay of their foundations.
No other fragment of Col. I. of the first tablet of the Legend of Gilgameš seems to have been recognized, so that the further references to the city are lost. An interesting piece that Mr. G. Smith thought to be part of the third column of this text refers to some misfortune that came upon the city when the people moaned like calves, and the maidens grieved like doves.
The city was, on this occasion, besieged for three years, until at last the god Bêl and the goddess Ištar interested themselves in the state of things. As to [pg 092] who the enemy was who brought the people into such distress, there is no means at present of finding out, but Mr. G. Smith suggested, with at least some show of probability, that they were the Elamites under Ḫumbaba, who appears later as the opponent of our hero. The indifference of the gods and the divine bulls that were supposed to protect the city is well expressed in the statement that they respectively turned into flies and mice, buzzing about and active, but doing no good whatever.
After the reference to the state of Erech, the text is exceedingly mutilated, and the sense difficult to gather, but it would seem to have contained a further description of the hero, who, according to Jensen's translation, is described as “two parts god and the third part man.” To all appearance there was none in all his realm like him, and also no consort suitable for him, though he collected to him all the young men and maidens in the land. This was a matter for grief, which the (divine powers ?) heard, and they called upon the goddess Aruru to make another in his likeness. This being was Êa-banî,7 the mighty one, to all appearance made to be the rival of Gilgameš, but if this be the case, he did not fulfil his destiny, for his delight was to remain with the beasts of the field. All his body was covered with hair, and he had long tresses on his head, like those of a woman (recalling Samson's luxuriant locks). Far, too, from being the rival of Gilgameš, he became his most devoted friend and companion.
[pg 093]Apparently he did not like being watched so long by the hunter, and becoming suspicious of his intentions, showed resentment, and tried to drive him away. It may be noted by the way, that this description of Êa-banî would answer excellently to the state attributed for a time to Nebuchadnezzar in the Book of Daniel.
The hunter has a conversation with his father, who [pg 094] was with him, and the upshot of it is that they decide to communicate to Gilgameš an account of the terrible man whom they had seen. It was therefore decided to try to catch or, rather, entice him to Erech by means of a female named Samḫat. In accordance with the instructions received, therefore, the hunter took with him the woman who was intrusted to him, and they awaited Êa-banî in the same place, by the side of the water. After watching for him for two days, they got into communication with him, and the woman asked him why he dwelt with the wild animals, depicting at the same time all the glory of Erech the walled and the nobility of Gilgameš, so that he soon allowed himself to be persuaded, and, in the end, went and took up his abode there.
Various things are then narrated, the most important of them being the episode of the Elamite Ḫumbaba, the same name, though not the same person, as the Kombabos of the Greeks.
Gilgameš seems to have gone to a place where there was a forest of cedar-trees, accompanied by Êa-banî. Near this place, apparently, there was a splendid palace, the abode (?) of a great queen. Judging from what remains of the text, they ask their way of her, and she it is who seems to tell them how to reach the dominions of the potentate whom they seek.
Evidently, from the extent of the record in this place, many adventures befell them, but the fragmentary [pg 095] lines and the numerous lacunæ make a connected narrative absolutely impossible, and it is not until we reach the first column of what Mr. G. Smith regarded as the fifth tablet that we get something more satisfactory than this. The hero has apparently come within measurable distance of his goal—
They had still a long way to go, however, and many things, seemingly, to overcome, before they should reach the abode of the dreaded Elamite ruler, but unfortunately, the details of their adventures are so very fragmentary that no connected sense whatever is to be made out. The last line of the tablet referring to this section, mentioning, as it does, the head of Ḫumbaba, leads the reader to guess the conclusion of the story, whatever the details may have been.
It is with the sixth tablet that we meet, for the first time, almost, with something really satisfactory in the matter of completeness, though even here one is sometimes pulled up sharp by a defective or doubtful passage.
Apparently, Gilgameš had become, at the time to which this tablet refers, very prosperous, and that, combined with his other attractions, evidently drew upon him the attention of the goddess Ištar—
[pg 096]At his entering, the people were to kiss his feet, and kings, lords, and princes do him homage, and lastly, he was to have no rival upon the earth.
In the mutilated passage that follows, Gilgameš answers the goddess, reproaching her with her treatment of her former lovers or husbands, which seems to have been far from satisfactory. Reference to a “wall of stone,” and to “the land of the enemy,” seem to point to imprisonment and expulsion, and the words “Who is the bridegroom (whom thou hast kept?) for ever?” indicate clearly the opinion in which the hero held the goddess. From generalities, however, he proceeds to more specific charges—
Ištar being angry at these reproaches and accusations of the Babylonian hero, immediately ascended to heaven and complained to her father Anu and her mother Anatum that Gilgameš had reproached her with her enchantments and witcheries, and after a long conversation, a divine bull is sent against the hero and his friend. The heavenly animal is overcome, principally by the activity of Êa-banî, who after [pg 098] its death, when the goddess Ištar was lamenting its overthrow, cut off a portion of the body, and threw it at her. Great were the rejoicings at Erech the walled at the triumph of the hero and his counsellor, and after the feast that was held, they all lay down to sleep. Êa-banî also lay down with the rest, and during the night he saw a dream, of the details of which nothing is known, though, from the words with which it seems to be introduced, “My friend, on account of what do the gods take counsel,” it may be supposed that the defiance and opposition which these mortals had offered to the goddess Ištar was engaging the attention of the heavenly powers with a view to some action being taken. As it is with these words that Êa-banî begins to tell his dream to Gilgameš, there is no doubt that the Babylonians regarded the former as having been admitted, whilst asleep (as in the case of the Babylonian Noah), into the councils of the gods. The solitary line that is quoted above is the first of the seventh tablet.
The details of the legend now again become obscure, but thus much can be gathered, namely, that Gilgameš in his turn had a dream, and that, all appearance, Êa-banî interpreted it. Later on, Êa-banî falls ill, and lies without moving for twelve days. Though unwilling to regard his friend as dead, Gilgameš mourns for him bitterly, and decides to make a journey, apparently with the object of finding out about his friend Êa-banî, and ascertaining whether there were any means of bringing him back to earth again.
He sets out, and comes to the place where the “scorpion-men,” with their heads reaching to heaven, and their breasts on a level with Hades, guarded the place of the rising and the setting sun. The horror of their appearance, which was death to behold, is forcibly described on the tablet. The hero was struck with terror on seeing them, but as he was of [pg 099] divine origin (“his body is of the flesh of the gods,” as the scorpion-man says to his female), death has no power over him on account of them. He seems to describe to them his journey, and the object he had in view. Pir-napištim, the Babylonian Noah, is mentioned in the course of the conversation, and it may be supposed that it is on account of his desire to visit him that he asks these monsters for advice. He afterwards comes into contact with the goddess Siduri, “who sits upon the throne of the sea,” and she, on seeing him, shuts her gate. He speaks to her of this, and threatens to break it open. Having gained admission, he apparently tells the goddess the reason of his journey, and she, in return, describes to him the way that he would have to take, the sea that he would have to cross, and of the deep waters of death that bar the way to the abode of the Babylonian Noah, who had attained unto everlasting life, and whose pilot or boatman, Ur-Šanabi, was to take the Erechite hero to his presence.
After a long conversation with Ur-Šanabi, concerning the road that they will take, they start together, and after passing through a forest, they embark in a ship, and reach, at the end of a month and ten days, the “waters of death.” There Gilgameš does something a number of times, and afterwards sees afar off Pir-napištim, the Babylonian Noah, who apparently communes with himself concerning the visitor who has come to his shores. The conversation which follows is very mutilated, but in the course of his explanation of the reason of his visit, Gilgameš relates all his adventures—how he had traversed all the countries, and crossed difficult mountains, his visit to Siduri, and her refusal to open the door to him, with many other things. The conversation apparently, after a time, becomes of a philosophical nature, for, in the course of it, Pir-napištim says—
[pg 100]He then discourses, apparently among other things, of death, and says—
With these words the tenth tablet of the Gilgameš series comes to an end.