A conference held in Heidelberg in 2014 resulted in this collection of essays, which explore the multifaceted aspects of
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English Pages 374 [391] Year 2019
Table of contents :
Table of Contents
List of General Abbreviations Used Throughout the Volume
Introduction • Ljuba Merlina Bortolani/Svenja Nagel
Acknowledgements
Part I: Egyptian, Greek and Mesopotamian Traditions of Magic: Different Genres, Perception of the ‘Other’ and Possible Transcultural Exchange
Magical Practices in Egyptian Literary Texts: in Quest of Cultural Plurality • Franziska Naether
Magic and Mystery at Selinus: Another Look at the Getty Hexameters • William D. Furley
Beyond Ereškigal? Mesopotamian Magic Traditions in the Papyri Graecae Magicae • Daniel Schwemer
Part II: Cultural Plurality and Fusion in the Graeco-Egyptian Magical Papyri (PGM/PDM)
Single Handbooks and Magical Techniques
Compiling P. Lond. I 121 = PGM VII in a Transcultural Context • Richard Gordon
Illuminating Encounters: Reflections on Cultural Plurality in Lamp Divination Rituals • Svenja Nagel
‘We Are Such Stuff as Dream Oracles Are Made on’: Greek and Egyptian Traditions and Divine Personas in the Dream Divination Spells of the Magical Papyri • Ljuba Merlina Bortolani
Cultural Plurality in Greek Magical Recipes for Oracular and Protective Statues • Christopher A. Faraone
Specific Spells and Deities
The Heliopolitan Ennead and Geb as a Scrofulous Boar in the PGM: Two Case Studies on Cultural Interaction in Late-Antique Magic • Joachim Friedrich Quack
Traditions of Transformation and Shape-Shifting in PGM XIII 270–77
Crowns of Hermanubis: Semiotic Fusion and Spells for Better Business in the Magical Papyri • Adria Haluszka
Love Spell and Hymn to Aphrodite in PGM IV (2891–941)
Part III: Integration and Transformation of Graeco-EgyptianMagic in Jewish and Byzantine Spells
The Greek Prayer to Helios in Sefer ha-Razim, in Light of New Textual Evidence • Gideon Bohak/Alessia Bellusci
Incantations in Byzantine and Post-Byzantine Greek: Change and Continuity • Michael Zellmann-Rohrer
Bibliography
List of Contributors
Index of Sources
Index of Names
Index of Subjects
Plates
Orientalische Religionen in der Antike Ägypten, Israel, Alter Orient
Oriental Religions in Antiquity Egypt, Israel, Ancient Near East
(ORA) Herausgegeben von / Edited by
Angelika Berlejung (Leipzig) Joachim Friedrich Quack (Heidelberg) Annette Zgoll (Göttingen) Beirat / Advisory Board
Uri Gabbay (Jerusalem) Michael Blömer (Aarhus) Christopher Rollston (Washington, D.C.) Rita Lucarelli (Berkeley)
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Cultural Plurality in Ancient Magical Texts and Practices Graeco-Egyptian Handbooks and Related Traditions Edited by Ljuba Merlina Bortolani, William D. Furley, Svenja Nagel, and Joachim Friedrich Quack
Mohr Siebeck
Ljuba Merlina Bortolani, born 1980; studied Classics and Egyptology; 2012 PhD; since 2017 postdoc researcher at the department of Classical Philology at the University of Heidelberg. William D. Furley, born 1953; 1979 PhD; since 2003 Associate Professor of Classics, University of Heidelberg; Senior Research Fellow of the Institute of Classical Studies (School of Advanced Studies), London. Svenja Nagel, born 1984; studied Egyptology and Classical Archaeology; 2015 PhD; since 2017 post-doc researcher at the Institute of Egyptology at the University of Heidelberg. Joachim Friedrich Quack, born 1966; studied Egyptology, Semitics and Biblical Archaeology; 1993 PhD; 2003 Habilitation; since 2005 Professor for Egyptology at the University of Heidelberg.
ISBN 978-3-16-156478-9 / eISBN 978-3-16-156479-6 DOI 10.1628/978-3-16-156479-6 ISSN 1869-0513 / eISSN 2568-7492 (Orientalische Religionen in der Antike) The Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliographie; detailed bibliographic data are available at http://dnb.dnb.de. © 2019 Mohr Siebeck Tübingen, Germany. www.mohrsiebeck.com This book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, in any form (beyond that permitted by copyright law) without the publisher’s written permission. This applies particularly to reproductions, translations and storage and processing in electronic systems. The book was printed on non-aging paper by Gulde Druck in Tübingen, and bound by Buchbinderei Spinner in Ottersweier. Printed in Germany.
Table of Contents List of General Abbreviations Used Throughout the Volume ................................... VII Ljuba Merlina Bortolani/Svenja Nagel Introduction ................................................................................................................. 1 Acknowledgements .................................................................................................... 23
Part I: Egyptian, Greek and Mesopotamian Traditions of Magic: Different Genres, Perception of the ‘Other’ and Possible Transcultural Exchange ...................................................................................... 25 Franziska Naether Magical Practices in Egyptian Literary Texts: in Quest of Cultural Plurality ............. 27 William D. Furley Magic and Mystery at Selinus: Another Look at the Getty Hexameters ..................... 42 Daniel Schwemer Beyond Ereškigal? Mesopotamian Magic Traditions in the Papyri Graecae Magicae ..................................................................................................................... 62
Part II: Cultural Plurality and Fusion in the Graeco-Egyptian Magical Papyri (PGM/PDM) ............................................................................ 87 Single Handbooks and Magical Techniques ............................................................... 89 Richard Gordon Compiling P. Lond. I 121 = PGM VII in a Transcultural Context .............................. 91 Svenja Nagel Illuminating Encounters: Reflections on Cultural Plurality in Lamp Divination Rituals .................................................................................................... 124 Ljuba Merlina Bortolani ‘We Are Such Stuff as Dream Oracles Are Made on’: Greek and Egyptian Traditions and Divine Personas in the Dream Divination Spells of the
VI Magical Papyri ......................................................................................................... 149 Christopher A. Faraone Cultural Plurality in Greek Magical Recipes for Oracular and Protective Statues .... 171 Specific Spells and Deities ....................................................................................... 189 Joachim Friedrich Quack The Heliopolitan Ennead and Geb as a Scrofulous Boar in the PGM: Two Case Studies on Cultural Interaction in Late-Antique Magic ............................ 191 Richard Phillips Traditions of Transformation and Shape-Shifting in PGM XIII 270–77 ................... 208 Adria Haluszka Crowns of Hermanubis: Semiotic Fusion and Spells for Better Business in the Magical Papyri ............................................................................................... 227 Marcela Ristorto Love Spell and Hymn to Aphrodite in PGM IV (2891–941) .................................... 238
Part III: Integration and Transformation of Graeco-Egyptian Magic in Jewish and Byzantine Spells .......................................................... 257 Gideon Bohak/Alessia Bellusci The Greek Prayer to Helios in Sefer ha-Razim, in Light of New Textual Evidence .................................................................................................................. 259 Michael Zellmann-Rohrer Incantations in Byzantine and Post-Byzantine Greek: Change and Continuity ......... 276 Bibliography ............................................................................................................ 297 List of Contributors.................................................................................................. 341 Index of Sources ...................................................................................................... 345 Index of Names ........................................................................................................ 364 Index of Subjects ..................................................................................................... 370 Plates
List of General Abbreviations Used Throughout the Volume ANRW
AP BAM BM BoD
BRM CAD CCAG CDD CG CIA CIL CMAwR CT
CT (BM) Dend. Edfou
FGrH
H. TEMPORINI, W. HAASE (eds.), Aufstieg und Niedergang der römischen Welt. Geschichte und Kultur Roms im Spiegel der neueren Forschung, I–XXXVII, Berlin/New York 1972–1996. Anthologia Palatina. F. KÖCHER et al., Die babylonisch-assyrische Medizin in Texten und Untersuchungen, Berlin 1963–. British Museum, London (Museum Signature). Book of the Dead. For the hieroglyphic text cf. the philologically unsatisfactory (but un-superseded) edition of E.A.W. BUDGE, The Book of the Dead: the Chapters of Coming Forth by Day: the Egyptian Text According to the Theban Recension in Hieroglyphic Edited from Numerous Papyri, with a Translation, Vocabulary, etc., I–III, London 1898. In general, for translations see R.O. Faulkner, The Ancient Egyptian Book of the Dead, London 1985; C. CARRIER, Le Livre des morts de l’Égypte ancienne, Paris 2009; for the papyrus of Ani, including images see E. VON DASSOW, J. WASSERMAN (eds.), The Egyptian Book of the Dead: the Book of Going Forth by Day, San Francisco 1994. Babylonian Records in the Library of J. Pierpont Morgan, I–IV, New Haven et al. 1912–1923. A.L. OPPENHEIM, E. REINER et al. (eds.), The Assyrian Dictionary of the University of Chicago, Chicago 1956–. Catalogus codicum astrologorum Graecorum, I–XII, Brussels 1898–1953. J.H. JOHNSON (ed.), The Demotic Dictionary of the Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago, Chicago 2001. Catalogue général des antiquités égyptiennes du Musée du Caire, Cairo et al. 1901–. Corpus inscriptionum Atticarum, 1825–. Corpus inscriptionum latinarum, 1863–. Corpus of Mesopotamian Anti-Witchcraft Rituals (Ancient Magic and Divination 8.1–2), I–II, Leiden/Boston 2011 and 2016. I: T. ABUSCH, D. SCHWEMER; II: T. ABUSCH, D. SCHWEMER, M. LUUKKO, G. VAN BUYLAERE. Coffin Texts. Synoptic edition of the hieroglyphic texts: A. DE BUCK, The Egyptian Coffin Texts, I–VII, Chicago 1935–1961. An English translation is provided by R.O. FAULKNER, The Ancient Egyptian Coffin Texts, I–III, Warminster 1973–1978. Cuneiform Texts from Babylonian Tablets in the British Museum, London 1896–. Le temple de Dendara, I–XV, Cairo 1934–2008. I–V: É. CHASSINAT; VI: É. CHASSINAT, F. DAUMAS; VII–IX: F. DAUMAS; X–XV: S. CAUVILLE. Le temple d’Edfou, I–XV. I–II: S. CAUVILLE, D. DEVAUCHELLE [Deuxième édition revue et corrigée], Cairo 1984–1987; III: É. CHASSINAT, M. DE ROCHMONTEIX, Cairo 1928; IV–XIV: É. CHASSINAT, Cairo 1929–1934; XV: S. CAUVILLE, D. DEVAUCHELLE, Cairo 1985. F. JACOBY (ed.), Die Fragmente der griechischen Historiker, 2nd edn, Leiden 1954–1969.
VIII GMPT IG KAR
LBAT LdÄ LGG LIMC LKA LSJ NP OED PDM
PGM PRE
PT
RAC SEG SGG Sm SM SMA Sp SpTU
List of General Abbreviations H.D. BETZ, (ed.), The Greek Magical Papyri in Translation – Including the Demotic Spells, 2nd edn, Chicago/London 1992 [1st edn, Chicago 1986]. Inscriptiones graecae, Berlin 1873–. E. EBELING, Keilschrifttexte aus Assur religiösen Inhalts, I–II (Wissenschaftliche Veröffentlichungen der Deutschen Orient-Gesellschaft 28 and 34), Leipzig 1919, 1920/23. T.G. PINCHES, J.N. STRASSMAIER, A.J. SACHS, Late Babylonian Astronomical and Related Texts, Providence 1955. W. HELCK, E. OTTO (eds.), Lexikon der Ägyptologie, I–VII, Wiesbaden 1972– 1992. C. LEITZ, Lexikon der ägyptischen Götter und Götterbezeichnungen, I–VIII (Orientalia Lovaniensia analecta 110–16, 129), Leuven 2002–2003. H.C. ACKERMANN, Lexicon iconographicum mythologiae classicae, Zürich/ Munich 1981–2009. E. EBELING, Literarische Keilschrifttexte aus Assur, Berlin 1953. H.G. LIDDELL, R. SCOTT, H.S. JONES, A Greek-English Lexicon, 9th edn, Oxford 1996. H. CANCIK, H. SCHNEIDER (eds.), Der neue Pauly: Enzyklopädie der Antike, I– XVI, Stuttgart 1996–2003. Oxford English Dictionary, Oxford 2001–. Papyri Demoticae Magicae according to the edition of H.D. BETZ (ed.), The Greek Magical Papyri in Translation – Including the Demotic Spells, 2nd edn, Chicago/London 1992 [1st edn, Chicago 1986]. K. PREISENDANZ, A. HENRICHS, (eds.), Papyri Graecae Magicae. Die griechischen Zauberpapyri, I–II [III], 2nd edn, Stuttgart 1973–1974 [1941]. A. PAULY, G. WISSOWA (eds.) Paulys Real-Encylopädie der classischen Altertumswissenschaft, I–XXIV, Stuttgart 1894–1963; 2nd Series I–X, Stuttgart/ Munich 1920–1972; Suppl. I–XV, Stuttgart/Munich 1903–1978. K. SETHE, Die altaegyptischen Pyramidentexte nach den Papierabdrücken und Photographien des Berliner Museums, I–IV, Leipzig 1908–1922; trans. R.O. FAULKNER, The Ancient Egyptian Pyramid Texts, Oxford 1969; J.P. ALLEN, The Ancient Egyptian Pyramid Texts (Writings from the Ancient World 23), Leiden/Boston 2005. T. KLAUSER et al. (eds.), Reallexikon für Antike und Christentum, I–, Stuttgart 1950–. Supplementum epigraphicum Graecum, Leiden 1923–71, then Amsterdam 1979–. A. MASTROCINQUE (ed.), Sylloge Gemmarum Gnosticarum, I–II (Bollettino di numismatica, monografia 8.2.1, 2), Rome 2003–2008. Smith (British Museum, London), Museum signature. R.W. DANIEL, F. MALTOMINI, Supplementum Magicum, I–II (Papyrologica Coloniensia 16.1–2), Opladen 1990–1992. C. BONNER, Studies in Magical Amulets Chiefly Graeco-Egyptian (University of Michigan Studies, Humanistic Series 4), Ann Arbor 1950. Spartoli (British Museum), Museum signature. Spätbabylonische Texte aus Uruk, I–V. I: H. HUNGER (Ausgrabungen der Deutschen Forschungsgemeinschaft in Uruk-Warka 9), Berlin 1976; II–III: E. VON WEIHER (Ausgrabungen der Deutschen Forschungsgemeinschaft in UrukWarka 10, 12), Berlin 1983, 1988; IV–V: E. VON WEIHER (Ausgrabungen in Uruk-Warka, Endberichte 12, 13), Mainz 1993, 1998.
List of General Abbreviations STT
TLA TLL
Urk. IV
IX
The Sultantepe Tablets, I–II. I: O.R. GURNEY, J.J. FINKELSTEIN; II: O.R. GURNEY, P. HULIN (Occasional Publications of the British Institute of Archaeology at Ankara 3 and 7), London 1957, 1964. Thesaurus linguae Aegyptiae (http://aaew.bbaw.de/tla). Thesaurus linguae Latinae, editus auctoritate et consilio academiarum quinque Germanicarum Berolinensis, Gottingensis, Lipsiensis, Monacensis, Vindobonensis, I–XI, Leipzig et al. 1900–. K. SETHE, Urkunden der 18. Dynastie (= Urkunden des ägyptischen Altertums IV), Leipzig 1906–1958.
Throughout the volume, Greek spelling is generally used for the names of Greek deities, divine entities and persons. On the other hand, according to customary practice, Latinate forms are used for the names of ancient authors (abbreviated references mostly follow the LSJ but are sometimes slightly expanded to avoid ambiguity).
Introduction LJUBA MERLINA BORTOLANI/SVENJA NAGEL
With the second half of the twentieth century and the reawakening of the scholarly interest in ancient magic the amount of valuable publications on the subject has been greatly increasing until today. They encompass editions of magical texts and objects, overarching studies of magic in the ancient world,1 as well as monographs on more specific topics.2 In particular, scholars had many opportunities to meet and exchange ideas thanks to various international conferences that resulted in significant volumes of Proceedings.3 However, despite this growing enthusiasm, the subject is vast and can be explored from numerous different perspectives, so that many aspects have not yet received the attention they deserve and more detailed research still awaits to be conducted. In particular, as far as the ancient Mediterranean is concerned, the protracted political, cultural and trade contacts between different areas, especially increasing from the Hellenistic Period onwards, inevitably influenced also the religious-magical tradition. Accordingly, magical texts and objects from the ancient Mediterranean often appear to display a gradual rise in the incorporation of ‘foreign’ elements, i.e. elements of different cultural origin, whether limited to ‘foreign’ magical words or including ‘foreign’ deities, mythological references, ritual allusions, etc. Therefore, the final result 1
Just to mention some of the more renowned books, e.g. mainly on Graeco-Roman magic GRAF, Gottesnähe; FLINT et al. (eds.), Witchcraft and Magic; DICKIE, Magic and Magicians; M. MARTIN, Magie et magiciens; DE. COLLINS, Magic in the Ancient; on ancient Egyptian magic, e.g. RITNER, Mechanics; KOENIG, Magie et magiciens; on Jewish magic, e.g. BOHAK, Ancient Jewish Magic; HARARI, Jewish Magic; on Mesopotamian magic, e.g. SCHWEMER, Abwehrzauber und Behexung; ABUSCH/VAN DER TOORN (eds.), Mesopotamian Magic. 2 E.g. MERKELBACH/TOTTI (eds.), Abrasax; DIELEMAN, Priests; FAUTH, Helios Megistos; FAUTH, Hekate Polymorphos; FAUTH, Jao-Jahwe; ZAGO, Tebe magica; MARTINEZ, Greek Love Charm; FARAONE, Vanishing Acts; FARAONE, Ancient Greek Love Magic; PACHOUMI, Concepts of the Divine; LOVE, Code-Switching; DOSOO, Rituals of Apparition. 3 E.g. ROCCATI/SILIOTTI (eds.), Magia in Egitto; FARAONE/OBBINK (eds.), Magika Hiera; MEYER/MIRECKI (eds.), Ancient Magic; SCHÄFER/KIPPENBERG (eds.), Envisioning Magic; JORDAN/MONTGOMERY/THOMASSEN (eds.), World of Ancient Magic; MIRECKI/MEYER (eds.), Magic and Ritual; KOENIG (ed.), Magie en Égypte; CIRAOLO/SEIDEL (eds.), Magic and Divination; NOEGEL/ WALKER/WHEELER (eds.), Prayer, Magic; BOHAK/HARARI/SHAKED (eds.), Continuity and Innovation; DE HARO SANCHEZ (ed.), Écrire la magie; SUÁREZ/BLANCO/CHRONOPOULOU (eds.), Papiros mágicos griegos; ASIRVATHAM/PACHE/WATROUS (eds.), Between Magic and Religion; PIRANOMONTE/SIMÓN (eds.), Contesti magici; GORDON (ed.), Magical Practice; BOSCHUNG/BREMMER (eds.), Materiality of Magic; cf. also (though not the result of a conference) JÖRDENS (ed.), Ägyptische Magie; KAMLAH/SCHÄFER/WITTE (eds.), Zauber und Magie.
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can often look like a cultural amalgam, product of the late Mediterranean melting pot (as it was often considered by early research on the subject). Scholars should thus face the challenge not only of identifying the possible cultural origin of the single elements, but also of trying to discover which specific cultural background, if any, is hidden behind the multicultural components in order to eventually investigate the dynamics of exchange and shed light on how the mixture functions in context. Therefore, the study of the different facets of transcultural encounters remains fundamental for a deeper understanding of the source material, and thus of ancient magical practice itself. However, up to now, as a consequence of the traditional separation between modern research disciplines, the great majority of the publications have engaged with the subject mostly from one single cultural point of view. Only rarely have some studies attempted to overcome this impasse through the collaboration of scholars of different disciplines or with different expertise4 but, though representing an important step in the scholarly attitude and a reference point for future investigations, they were hardly exhaustive because of the vast scope of the material. Therefore, it remains fundamental to keep expanding our views beyond the borders of academic fields and to give to the transcultural perspective the importance it deserves in the study of ancient magic. This spirit underlies two subsequent projects conducted at the University of Heidelberg: The Magic of Transculturality, which we undertook at the Cluster of Excellence Asia and Europe in a Global Context from 2012 to 2016; and Sexual Dynamis and Dynamics of Magical Practice in Graeco-Roman Egypt: Erotic Spells in the Greek and Demotic Magical Papyri (PGM and PDM) and their Cultural Traditions, funded by the DFG from 2017 until 2020. Through the detailed analysis of the divinatory and erotic rituals of the Greek and Demotic magical papyri from Roman Egypt (see below), the projects attempted to disentangle different cultural elements and to understand the interaction of these elements within the extant spells belonging to these specific genres. During the first project, in order to broaden our perspective, we organised a conference aimed at discussing examples of cultural plurality in ancient magical texts and practices from the Mediterranean and the Near East. This volume collects the papers delivered at this conference, which took place on the 12th–13th September 2014 in the Internationales Wissenschaftsforum of Heidelberg (IWH) and gathered international specialists in different areas of ancient magic who are often confronted with multicultural influences. One of the key terms of our projects, and subsequently of the conference title, ‘plurality’, derives from the notion that discussions of cultural ‘hybridity’ have by now evolved beyond the naïve assumption that globalisation will result in increasing, and finally total, homogeneity. Still, the complex processes of partial integration of foreign elements clearly need more detailed attention. In principle, even within one culture, there can be a variety of responses to foreign components, depending on the specific discourse and factors such as public visibility or secrecy. Accordingly, different models may be used to describe and analyse these alterity experiences. Therefore, we 4 See e.g. BETZ (ed.), GMPT; MERKELBACH/TOTTI (eds.), Abrasax; A. DELATTE/DERCHAIN, Intailles magiques; MOYER/DIELEMAN, Miniaturization; CRIPPA/CIAMPINI (eds.), Languages.
Introduction
3
chose to use the heuristic term ‘plurality’ complemented by the term ‘fusion’ (as different but often contemporaneous attitudes) since they are less loaded with previous theoretical models. The contemporary presence of elements of different cultural origin can thus be described as ‘plurality’, while instances in which these elements overlap to such an extent that it is almost impossible to disentangle them can be described as examples of ‘fusion’. In detail, cultural plurality and fusion can manifest themselves in a range of different dynamics: from phenomena such as simple borrowing, through advanced adaptation, up to complete assimilation or even distortion of origin and meaning. As far as these transcultural influences are concerned, an especially rich field of investigation is the corpus of Greek and Demotic magical papyri from Roman Egypt in which, apart from the main Egyptian and Greek components, it is possible to recognise e.g. Jewish, Mesopotamian and Christian elements. Due to their particular textual history (see below), these texts, especially the longer handbooks, offer us the unique opportunity to conduct both a synchronic and diachronic analysis. In particular, the diverse cultural influences displayed in the extant papyri can provide information not only as the reflection of the multicultural society of the period, but also as the result of the employment of earlier ritual or textual sources (and more generally magicoreligious traditions) during the different stages of compilation. Therefore, it is not surprising that the great bulk of contributions in this volume is dedicated, or refers, to this source material addressing many of the issues we set out to investigate. They include research questions such as: when elements originating in different religious traditions are found together, how do they interact among each other? Why were some elements from a specific culture chosen or preserved and others not? And how were they integrated in their new context? Is it possible to identify logical patterns? And how were the different cultural contributions conceived by the compilers of the magical texts? And what about the actual users of the spells? Were they still able to differentiate between various cultural influences? Or was this heterogeneous amalgam conceived as ‘mysterious’ in itself and thus inherent in the magical nature of these texts? Though often easier to analyse when considering an extensive corpus such as the magical papyri, these research questions apply also to other textual and material sources associated with ancient magic: other magical handbooks, remains of applied magic (see below page 11) and implements or material objects (such as amulets) produced and/or used in connection with magical practice. The contributions devoted mainly to the rich source material of the magical papyri from Egypt are collected in the central part of this volume. They are framed by two complementary sections, which enrich the discussion by broadening the scope – geographically as well as chronologically – focussing on the analysis of other sources that are either directly or indirectly connected with ancient magic. The first section thus explores examples of different magical/ritual genres, the perception of foreigners and foreign rituals, and possible transcultural exchanges within the earlier magical traditions of Egypt, Mesopotamia and Greece. On the other hand, the essays assembled in the final part trace examples of integration and transformation of the Graeco-Egyptian magical lore in later Jewish and Byzantine formularies.
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Part I Egyptian, Greek and Mesopotamian traditions of magic: different genres, perception of the ‘other’ and possible transcultural exchange The first three contributions provide insight into three different specific cultural milieus – Egyptian, Mesopotamian and Greek – and their respective magical traditions, especially in correlation with each other or with foreign rituals in general. How was foreign ritual power conceived by the ancient people themselves, and which political, religious or other factors and prejudices played a role in its evaluation? Can the integration or exclusion of foreign practices as described in one culture’s own literary output, and thus presented from an emic point of view, be compared with the active admixture of specific foreign elements that appears to characterise religious and magical manuals such as the Greek and Demotic magical papyri from Roman Egypt?5 To what extent did earlier or contemporary indigenous apotropaic/magical traditions actually shape these Graeco-Egyptian handbooks? Can we talk of direct transmission or borrowing, or should we just assume looser cultural contacts naturally triggered by the circulation of ideas in the Mediterranean basin? In particular, a closely related phenomenon in Greek and Hellenistic (and later on, Roman) culture is the interplay between magic and mystery cults, which in their turn often incorporated Oriental traditions. This is evident in the famous cases of the cults of Isis and Mithras, which spread in the already quite globalised Hellenistic and Roman worlds, but Near Eastern influences have been hypothesised also for some earlier Greek cults (e.g. Dionysiac-Orphic mysteries).6 Apart from the (possible) inclusion of foreign religious concepts and practices, mystery cults share with magical rituals the relevance of the personal communication and involvement of the individual with the gods, as well as the central importance and subsequent instrumentalisation of their myths.7 However, to what extent did mystery cults influence the later or contemporary magical lore? In particular, is it possible to find traces of actual continuity between earlier Greek sources and GraecoEgyptian magic?
5
See for the question of such foreign elements in the PGM and PDM, but also in earlier as well as later sources, e.g. THISSEN, Nubien; DIELEMAN, Priests, 138–43; WÜTHRICH, Eléments, 16–26 (Nubian elements); the contribution by D. SCHWEMER, in this volume (Mesopotamian elements); HOPFNER, Orientalisch-Religionsgeschichtliches; FARAONE, Mystodokos; QUACK, Zauber ohne Grenzen (various elements); in particular, for Jewish elements see below n. 43. Vice versa, on the inclusion of Greek magical texts into Jewish spells, cf. the contribution by G. BOHAK and A. BELLUSCI in this volume. 6 Cf. also the contribution by M. RISTORTO in this volume, 238–9, for the so-called ‘Oriental Cults’; for the problematic and various aspects of the cults subsumed under this designation see NAGEL/QUACK/WITSCHEL (eds.), Entangled Worlds. 7 On links between magic and mystery cults see e.g. GRAF, Gottesnähe, 96–107 (especially on initiation rites); BETZ, Magic and Mystery.
Introduction
5
In order to better contextualise the contributions of this section in connection with the later developments embodied by the Greek and Demotic magical papyri, it is important to remind that in Egypt foreign cultural elements, language and deities were adapted and integrated into religious texts already in earlier periods. This is especially well attested in the New Kingdom (c. 1550–1070 BCE), in which the extension of Egyptian power as well as diplomatic and military contacts with other peoples reached a peak.8 During this period, the cults of the Northwest-Semitic deities Resheph, Astarte, Baal, Hauron, Anat and Qadesh were installed in Egypt, some of them through the official initiative of Pharaohs like Amenhotep II and Ramses II.9 Interestingly, not all of these deities were integrated in the same way: some of them were actually ‘needed’ to fill certain gaps in the pantheon, since their competences covered also domains that were originally foreign to Egyptian culture and thus not yet under the patronage of an Egyptian deity, e.g. horses and chariots, which were imported from the Levant and accordingly remained assigned to Astarte.10 On the other hand, in the case of the newly imported Baal, some parallels in character led to a perceived equivalency or even identity between him and the Egyptian Seth, who thus became, in spite of his Egyptian origins, a deity connected with foreigners and foreignness.11 In contrast to the relatively great number of Near Eastern deities that were venerated in Egypt, gods from other neighbouring cultures, like Nubia or Libya, were hardly ever appropriated before the Ptolemaic Period.12 However, diverse foreign deities and other elements were actually integrated more freely and frequently within ritual and magical texts of various nature.13 This process was obviously relatively independent from the (official) installation of cults of imported deities described above, since also other gods, who did not have a temple cult in Egypt, could be included in these sources together with demons, myths and (at least the concept of) recitations in foreign languages. Thus, in New Kingdom papyri, not only do we find Egyptian magico-medical recipes against the Mesopotamian demon Samanu who was responsible for a skin disease,14 but one of them is also written in foreign language, possibly Minoan.15 Spells incorporating Semitic, and more precisely Canaanite, incantations appear also in other papyri of this era. 16 At the same time, 8
For cultural appropriation in pre-Ptolemaic Egypt in general, cf. SCHNEIDER, Foreign Egypt. See e.g. ZIVIE-COCHE, Dieux autres; QUACK, Importing; LIPIŃSKI, Syro-Canaanite Goddesses; STADELMANN, Syrisch-palästinensische Gottheiten; TAZAWA, Syro-Palestinian Deities; MÜNNICH, Reshep, 80–115; LAHN, Qedeschet; WILSON-WRIGHT, Athtart, 27–71; BONNET, Astarté, 63–7; LILYQUIST, Hauron. The introduction of Resheph and Astarte was initiated by Amenhotep II, the cult of Anat was officially installed by Ramses II. 10 Cf. QUACK, Importing, 264. For another, earlier case of adaptation of this kind (the Nubian god Dedun), ibid., 257. 11 Cf. ZIVIE-COCHE, Dieux autres, 70. 12 Cf. QUACK, Importing, 264–6. 13 Cf. KOENIG, Image of the Foreigner; KOENIG, Nubie; QUACK, Importing, 262–3 and 266. 14 See the detailed study by S. BECK, Sāmānu, esp. 171–252. 15 In P. BM EA 10059, see S. BECK, Sāmānu, 248; E. KYRIAKIDES, Language of the Keftiw; HAIDER, Minoische Sprachdenkmäler. 16 See e.g. R.C. STEINER, Northwest Semitic Incantations; SCHNEIDER, Mag pHarris XII; LEITZ, Magical and Medical Papyri, 49–50. 9
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Nubian or even further South-East African, i.e. Puntite, ritual power and religious traditions seem to have been perceived as especially efficacious, 17 since they were appropriated even for official temple ritual18 and in the Book of the Dead.19 In both cases, sections in the (purportedly) respective languages were also included. In addition to these direct sources, Egyptian (narrative) literature often includes vivid descriptions of foreigners as well as foreign rituals. FRANZISKA NAETHER presents an overview of examples from this material in the first contribution. She analyses Egyptian literary production, in which tales of magic, divine intervention and supernatural wonders abound.20 The focus of her paper on the emic, albeit highly stylised, presentation of Egyptian priest-magicians as well as religion and (magical) rituals of neighbouring cultures serves to uncover the ancient Egyptians’ own perception of the ‘magic of the other’, as opposed to their own. Although the selected source material (narrative and instructive literature) certainly had an agenda of its own and represented the – presumably idealised and narratively embellished – views of only a small group of Egyptian society, namely the literate and educated priestly and scribal elite, it grants us valuable insights into the self-reflection and self-representation of this group and their engagement with foreign, possibly inimical or vying powers. However, even if the ‘authors’ (if we may even call them that) of the written versions of these narratives were certainly from the described social stratum, there is an important debate going on about the probable orally transmitted roots of such stories, which would re-position the attitudes reflected in them within a broader fraction of Egyptian society.21 NAETHER’s study of literary descriptions of concrete foreign magical practices and ritual experts is embedded in a broader perspective on the representation of foreigners in these texts. The description alone of some of the respective practices demonstrates a certain interest in foreign, exotic and possibly equally effective rituals, even though some of them might have existed only in fiction22 and therefore are only examples of a projection of Egyptian ideas of what foreign magic was supposed to be like. The literary treatment of these themes is not only informed by political and historical experiences, but in a way reflects and elaborates upon actual documentary evidence for the fear of malign influences of foreign magic, such as the ‘Oracular Amu17
eme.
Cf. KOENIG, Nubie; KOENIG, Image of the Foreigner, 227; QUACK, Nubisch-meroitische Lex-
18 During the Min festival, a ritual text is supposed to be recited by a ‘negro of Punt’, and some sections transcribe a non-Egyptian language, possibly ‘Puntite’, into hieroglyphs, see QUACK, Importing, 257; QUACK, Egyptian Writing. 19 In the ‘supplementary chapters’ BoD 162–5: WÜTHRICH, Eléments, esp. 16–26; WÜTHRICH, Édition synoptique; WÜTHRICH, Abracadabras méroïtiques. Cf. also the reviews by QUACK, Review of WÜTHRICH, Eléments; QUACK, Review of WÜTHRICH, Édition synoptique; and QUACK, Importing, 266. 20 For the prominence of these themes in Egyptian narrative literature in general cf. HOLLIS, Tales of Magic; SÉRIDA, Cultural Memory; DIELEMAN, Priests, 221–38; QUACK, Wer waren. Cf. also the paper by R. PHILLIPS in this volume. 21 See especially the recent study on the Demotic tales by JAY, Orality and Literacy. 22 On magical practices (like transformation) as described in fiction versus actually applied magic cf. also the contribution by R. PHILLIPS in this volume; and LOVE, Ritual Reality.
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letic Decrees’ from the Libyan Period (21st–22nd Dynasties).23 In some of the texts of this genre, magic of explicitly outlandish origin (Syrian, Bedouin, Libyan and Nubian magic) is warded off next to Egyptian magic. That such worries were shared by the state is demonstrated by a letter of Pharaoh Amenhotep II to his viceroy, cautioning him against Nubian magicians.24 In Classical Greece the situation was somewhat similar but also very different. As far as the adoption of foreign deities is concerned, the most famous and certain examples involve Near Eastern female goddesses such as the Anatolian Kybele and the Thracian Bendis, who were first worshipped in Greece around the sixth/fifth century BCE and were perceived as similar and/or identified with the Greek Gaia/Rhea/Demeter and Artemis respectively.25 At the same time, foreign origins and/or influences have been hypothesised for various other deities of the Greek pantheon, for example Hekate, who plays an important role in early apotropaic/magical ritual and later magic and for whom an Anatolian origin, more specifically Carian, has been posed.26 However, in cases like this, the possible foreign influences are very hard to trace since the earliest Greek sources present the deity as already integrated into the pantheon.27 More importantly, even if Hekate had a remote foreign origin, it is unlikely (and impossible for us to confirm) that she was still perceived as foreign by Greek people worshipping her, or invoking her in apotropaic/magical texts. Similarly, the god Hermes who, when providing Odysseus with the herb moly so that he can be immune from Kirke’s spells, appears to be one of the first deities displaying ‘magical’ competences in literary sources (Hom. Od. 10.27), could have hardly had any foreign connotation at the time. In Homer, as has often been underlined, the fact that e.g. a god can be skilled in the use of wondrous herbs, and that Odysseus himself can perform necromancy to consult with Tiresias (Hom. Od. 11), does not seem to imply any explicit foreign influence or, even more importantly, any negative overtones. As a matter of fact, in Homer these practices are not subsumed under one overarching term. However, it is Kirke (the great-aunt of Medea who lives in the mythical island of Aeaea) who, apart from being capable of powerful incantations herself, instructs Odysseus on how to perform necromancy. This detail might already underlie a later notion that will develop in Greece especially from the fifth century BCE onwards together with the concept of magic itself: the tendency to label foreign ritual practice as ‘magic’ and attribute great magical power to some ‘barbarian’ lands and people as clearly shown by the evolution of
23 EDWARDS, Oracular Amuletic Decrees; cf. e.g. LUCARELLI, Popular Beliefs. See FISCHERELFERT, Magika Hieratika, 82–95, 203–19, 250–52 for further examples. 24 Urk. IV, 1344, 11–12; cf. KOENIG, Nubie, 105; RITNER, Mechanics, 140, n. 623; WÜTHRICH, Eléments, 22. For differing Egyptian attitudes towards different agents and aims of magic see also NAGEL, Narrations. 25 See e.g. GARLAND, Introducing New Gods, especially 111–14; PACHE, Barbarian Bond; JANOUCHOVÁ, Cult of Bendis; ROLLER, Search of God, especially 119–86. 26 And it is now generally accepted, see in particular KRAUS, Hekate, especially 54–64; BERG, Hecate; cf. e.g STRAUSS CLAY, Hecate. 27 See e.g. Hes. Th. 411–52; h.Hom. 2.
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the term ‘magic’ from magos, originally just a Persian religious specialist,28 and also by famous literary characters such as Medea from Kolchis. Likewise, Egypt and Egyptian priests became especially renowned for their magical lore29 following an attitude partly comparable with what we saw in Egypt itself, e.g. for Nubian and Puntite ritual power. However, in contrast with Egypt,30 the notion of magic appears to have emerged in Greece specifically as a ‘third-person attribution’31 with derogatory undertones. For it was used for practices that, when not attributed to alien and potentially dangerous ‘barbarians’, were connected with specific groups of people (within Greek culture itself) whose activities acquired a nuance of illicitness owing e.g. to fluctuations in socio-cultural views or to displacements from a public to a more private sphere.32 Despite the different theories proposed by recent scholarship to explain the emergence of magic as an autonomous category in fifth century Greece,33 there is general agreement the notion could be highly dependent on the individual point of view, and thus it often remained fluid and liable to variation. This strategy of self-definition through stigmatisation of the ‘Other’ might explain why, in early Greek evidence for autochthonous apotropaic/magical rituals, there are no clear traces of foreign influence, such as the adoption of foreign words or deities that we observe in New Kingdom Egypt. For example, the earliest Greek defixiones (fifth century BCE) are very simple, do not include any foreign element and, when mentioning deities, they stick to the tradi28
See e.g. NOCK, Paul and the Magus; GRAF, Gottesnähe, especially 24–31; BREMMER, Birth; OGDEN, Necromancy, 128–48; also HALL, Inventing, especially 143–54. 29 See e.g. DIELEMAN, Priests, 239–54; LLOYD, Egyptian Magic, especially 99–105; cf. FRANKFURTER, Religion, 217–21. 30 In Egypt the native equivalent term for magic, Hk#, did not have any negative connotation in itself, but embodied the performative force through which the transition from ideal (speech) to actual creation (matter) is achieved. This power, also personified by a deity (Heka), originally emanated from the creator god and it was supposed to be activated by priests as well during ritual performances. It was thus inherent in the creative process and it was not employed only by foreigners or a group of people outside official religion, but by gods and temple priests. See e.g. BORGHOUTS, #X.w (akhu) and Hk#.w (hekau); RITNER, Mechanics, 4–28, 217–20, 236–49; RITNER, Egyptian Magical Practice, 3353–5; RITNER, Religious, Social; KOENIG, Magie Égyptienne; cf. DICKIE, Magic and Magicians, 22. 31 J.Z. SMITH, Trading Places, 18. 32 See e.g. the famous examples of Plato, Resp. 364b–e, Lg. 909a–d, depicting ‘beggar priests and prophets’ offering every sort of spells as charlatans looking for profit; or Thessalian magicians and witches as a well-acknowledged group with special magical powers, see e.g. O. PHILLIPS, Witches’ Thessaly; also HILL, Thessalian Trick; DICKIE, Magic and Magicians, especially 32–3, 103; OGDEN, Necromancy, especially 142–7, 202–7. 33 For example it has been suggested that it was a spontaneous phenomenon (DICKIE, Magic and Magicians, 18–46). On the other hand, the rise of the notion of ‘magic’ has also been explained as the consequence of the development of philosophical theology and medical science, and of the subsequent separation of the natural and divine realms (GRAF, Excluding the Charming; GRAF, Gottesnähe; GRAF, How to Cope, especially 109–14); on the whole subject see also e.g. BRAARVIG, Magic, 37–40; GORDON, Imagining; JOHNSTON, Greek Divination, especially 145–53, also stressing that often the differences between magic and mainstream religion are just in details; cf. e.g. SEGAL, Hellenistic Magic; VERSNEL, Some Reflections; HOFFMAN, Fiat Magia; FRANKFURTER, Dynamics.
Introduction
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tional chthonic pantheon.34 Similarly in Classical literature, while of course we keep finding examples of foreigners engaging with magic,35 it is hardly possible to find any clear sign of cultural plurality in the descriptions of magical rituals performed by Greeks. 36 In fact, as far as Greek documentary, archaeological and literary sources testifying to magical practices are concerned, the clearly recognisable addition and integration of elements from different magico-religious traditions appears to be a later phenomenon, which seemingly started to develop from Hellenistic times onwards. WILLIAM D. FURLEY, in the second contribution, offers an example of the early Greek attitude, focusing on a piece of evidence from Greek apotropaic-magical tradition that does not display any clear sign of transcultural influences: the so-called Getty Hexameters. The author provides a new edition and analysis of this apotropaic Greek metrical text (written on a lead tablet from the fifth century BCE Selinus), whose interpretation is still highly controversial. Thanks to original insights and new parallels, FURLEY reinforces the hypothesis that the text originated in connection with Dionysos’ mysteries, in particular with the Orphic-Bacchic myth about the birth and childhood of the god. He also demonstrates how a passage in the text, which was previously interpreted as a Greek adaptation of an Egyptian mythical narrative, can be completely explained within the Greek religious framework and without assuming any foreign influence. Therefore, on the one hand FURLEY’s contribution sets the base for comparison with later material, also highlighting some significant characteristics of early Greek apotropaic texts, such as their frequent connection with the mystery cults’ milieu and their civic versus private connotation. On the other hand, it reminds us of various aspects of continuity between this early Greek tradition and the later GraecoEgyptian magical texts, such as the use of the so-called Ephesia Grammata,37 of specific epithets of Hekate and Apollo, and the prominent role attributed to these deities. In particular, some verses of the Getty Hexameters are paralleled in two seven/eight hundred years later magical papyri (PGM LXX and SM 49).38 This demonstrates not only that the compilers of the later Graeco-Egyptian magical literature had access to much earlier ritual texts that originated in a Greek cultural environment, but also that these texts, with their long history of transmission, though apparently originally belonging to the ritual sphere of the mysteries, were still considered powerful enough to be integrated in the newer, redesigned magical scenario. The persistence of the Getty Hexameters testifies thus to the authoritative power given to earlier ritual texts by Graeco-Egyptian magical literature and provides an example of its possible compositional methods.
34
See e.g. GAGER (ed.), Curse Tablets, 5–9, 12–13, cf. 26–7, 76–7 (no. 17), 86 (no. 19), 90 (no. 22), 124–30 (nos. 37–42), 138–42 (nos. 49–51), etc.; OGDEN, Binding Spells, 6–10, cf. 44–6. 35 See e.g. Aesch. Pers. 607–93. 36 See e.g. Pind. Pyth. 4.213–19; Eur. Hipp. 509–15; cf. also the later Idyll 2 by Theocritus. 37 A string of magical words that belongs to Greek tradition; apart from W.D. FURLEY’s contribution in this volume, see e.g. MCCOWN, Ephesia Grammata; BERNABÉ, Las Ephesia Grammata; BERNABÉ, The Ephesia Grammata. 38 Col. 1, 8 is paralleled in PGM LXX 12 (third/fourth century CE) and col. 1, 8–14 is paralleled in SM 49.64–70 (third/fourth century CE).
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This literature could attribute authoritative power not only to ancient sources but, as already mentioned, also to foreign traditions, especially when they belonged to lands already renowned for their magical lore or when they could strengthen the efficacy of a spell with the addition of an element considered powerful in another culture and/or apt to provide an extra halo of mystery. In fact, some spells of the PDM and especially the PGM do actually in themselves claim to use purportedly Nubian, Persian/Parthian, Jewish or other foreign language for single recitations and divine names,39 or attribute the origin of a specific prescription to the established repertoire of ‘famous’ (or not so famous) magicians of Hebrew, Persian, Syrian, Trojan and Thessalian origin, next to Egyptian and Greek ones.40 Thus the texts reflect an international or transcultural selfperception claimed by their authors and/or possibly desired by their users/clients. While these references to foreign magical traditions and ritual power are clearly employed for the purpose of giving additional authority to the spells,41 to what extent did the composers have knowledge of foreign practices and mythology? There have already been several studies on the actual presence, quality and meaning of the Jewish elements, voces magicae,42 etc. Even if they are generally perceived as being rather abundant in the PGM and PDM, more detailed analyses demonstrate that they are used more superficially than previously thought, since they mainly concern divine names or single words.43 Similar problems surround the supposed ‘Mesopotamian’ influences, names and other elements within the magical texts from Roman Egypt.44
39 Nubian: PDM xiv 1097–103 (= P. Mag. LL, vs., 20, 1–7); PDM lxi 95–9 (= P. BM EA 10588, 7, 1–5); see DIELEMAN, Priests, 138–43; THISSEN, Nubien. Hebrew/Jewish: PGM III 1–164 (now PGM III.1, see LOVE, ‘PGM III’ Archive); PGM V 96–172 (mysteries and true divine name transmitted to Israel). Hebrew and Syrian: PGM V 459–89. Divine name as spoken in various languages: PGM XII 201–69; PGM XIII 1–343 and 343–646 (including animal languages); cf. DIELEMAN, Priests, 165–70. 40 Solomon (PGM IV 850–929); Moses (PGM VII 619–27); Jacob (PGM XXIIb 1–26); Ostanes (PGM XII 121–43); Astrampsouchos (PGM VIII 1–63); Pharaoh Nechepsos, i.e. Necho II (PDM xiv 309–34 = P. Mag. LL, 11, 1–26; for the identification see RYHOLT, New Light, esp. 62); Syrian woman of Gadara (PGM XX 4–12); Dardanos (PGM IV 1716–870); Pitys the Thessalian (PGM IV 2140–44); Philinna the Thessalian woman (PGM XX 13–19); cf. DIELEMAN, Priests, 260–69. PGM IV 3007–86 simply states in the end ‘this charm is Hebraic’. The tradition of the powerful ‘Thessalian witch’ still continues in a Byzantine spell, see the contribution by M. ZELLMANN-ROHRER in this volume. 41 Cf. DIELEMAN, Priests, 276–80. 42 I.e. sequences of letters apparently without meaning but with a special sound or visual impact whose origin is often to be found in ‘foreign’ words or divine names, see e.g. BRASHEAR, Greek Magical Papyri, 3429–38 with rich bibliography; TARDIEU/VAN DEN KERCHOVE/ZAGO (eds.), Noms barbares; QUACK, Griechische und andere Dämonen. 43 BOHAK, Linguistic Contacts, esp. 250–51; BOHAK, Hebrew, Hebrew Everywhere?; FAUTH, JaoJahwe; LIDONNICI, ‘According to the Jews’; MO. SMITH, Jewish Elements; MARCOS, Motivos judíos; LEONAS, Septuagint; QUACK, Alttestamentliche Motive. For more details, cf. also below, part III of this Introduction. 44 Cf. e.g. for divination techniques, BEERDEN, ‘Dismiss Me’; FARAONE, Necromancy, esp. 275– 7; VERGOTE, Joseph, 172–5; for specific magical spells/practices and structural elements FARAONE, Mystodokos; DICKIE, Learned Magician, esp. 183–9; GRAF, Gottesnähe, 154–7. See also the contribu-
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DANIEL SCHWEMER, in his essay, calls for a precise framework of criteria in order to evaluate the import of Mesopotamian traditions in these sources, to be applied also to other cases of supposed cultural borrowing: specificity, exceptionality and unexpectedness, and co-occurrence of several instances.45 In order to better understand the possible ways of transmission of Mesopotamian religious elements and magical lore, he provides a thorough survey of the history and range of āšipūtu (incantation) texts in the ancient Near East. The instructive example of the Hittite royal court in the thirteenth century BCE demonstrates that alongside the adaptation, and sometimes even translation, of Mesopotamian texts into Hittite, original Anatolian magical rituals still continued to be in use and remained unchanged by these prestigious influences:46 cultural plurality without actual fusion. Chronologically closer to the PGM and PDM are the latest copies of cuneiform exorcism texts, the Graeco-Babyloniaca, which also contain Greek transcriptions of āšipūtu-incantations. Together with traces of Babylonian traditions in Aramaic and Mandaic magical texts and in the Babylonian Talmud, they attest to a solid base of contact zones that could have permitted the transmission of such material also into the Graeco-Egyptian magical corpus. However, in the majority of cases, elements of clear Mesopotamian origin are employed in an isolated way in the PGM. They lack further epithets or motives that would show a deeper knowledge of, or real interest in, this religious tradition and, stripped as they are from their original context, they bear witness to an already very distant relationship with their cultural roots.
Part II Cultural plurality and fusion in the Graeco-Egyptian magical papyri (PGM/PDM) The central part of this book focuses on the corpus of documents commonly referred to as the Greek and Demotic magical papyri from Roman Egypt (PGM and PDM) and the evidence for cultural plurality and fusion that can or cannot be found therein. Up to now, this corpus consists of about 240 papyri of very different length and about 40 other documents on ostraka, wooden and metal tablets containing ritual spells mainly dated from the first to the fifth century CE.47 However, these numbers are not fixed since, apart from possible new finds, there are already further documents awaiting publication. The contents of the magical papyri can be divided into two main catetion by S. NAGEL in this volume. For the various suggestions to identify voces magicae see the list in BRASHEAR, Greek Magical Papyri, 3576–603. 45 For a similar set of criteria to be applied when trying to ascertain parallels between cultural and religious traditions see e.g. MA. SMITH, Primaeval Ocean, 207–9. 46 Cf. SCHWEMER, Gauging, 145–8. 47 For the history of studies, relative bibliography and all the following see e.g. the detailed introductions by BRASHEAR, Greek Magical Papyri (for the Greek papyri) and RITNER, Egyptian Magical Practice (for the Demotic papyri).
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gories: proper magical handbooks to be consulted when needed (ranging from one or a couple of spells to extensive collections), which assemble rituals for many different purposes, and examples of so-called ‘applied magic’, or ‘finished products’, i.e. incantations and/or formulae and/or symbols and drawings that had to be written on different supports as part of the magical procedure: they often include the personal names of the parties involved and, as remains of rituals that were actually performed, testify to the individual use of a specific spell by a specific person. While the provenance of most papyri is unknown, some of the longest handbooks are part of the so-called ‘Theban Magical Library’, as they were allegedly found together in a tomb, in or around Thebes in Upper Egypt, sometime before 1828 (unfortunately, no details are known about the find): they represent the most impressive collection of magical texts ever discovered. 48 The main language and script of the magical papyri is Greek, but Egyptian language is also employed, mostly Demotic script, either in whole papyri or in passages or glosses. 49 To a smaller extent, the Egyptian Old Coptic50 and Hieratic scripts can also be used for passages or glosses. In addition to the employment of different languages and scripts, as already mentioned the magical papyri appear to be a complex tangle of different religious traditions (obviously Egyptian and Greek, but to a lesser extent also Jewish, Christian, Babylonian and Mithraic), reflecting the complex socio-cultural setting of Roman Egypt. Nevertheless, when the interest in ancient magic started to awaken and KARL PREISENDANZ and his collaborators in 1928–1931 published all the magical papyri known at the time,51 the Demotic (or Hieratic) texts, passages and glosses were not included in the edition. This unintentionally contributed to create a sort of confusion between Greek language and Greek cultural tradition. The multicultural religious influences were certainly recognised, but since the magical papyri appeared basically as Greek texts, they kept being studied mainly by classicists. The turning point came in the second half of the twentieth century, when the second edition of PREISENDANZ’s PGM revised by ALBERT HENRICHS appeared, 52 and one hundred new Greek texts53 and the most significant Demotic papyri were published.54 Most importantly, 48
As far as contents and conservation status are concerned; for details about the ‘Theban Magical Library’ and the story of its acquisition by European Museums see e.g. BRASHEAR, Greek Magical Papyri, 3400–405; ZAGO, Tebe magica, especially 31–71; TAIT, Theban Magic, especially 173–4, who discusses whether the ‘Library’ belonged to a private collector or to a temple library; DOSOO, History; see also the contribution of R. GORDON in this volume for PGM VII as not being part of the ‘Library’ as previously thought. 49 It is important to note that the Demotic texts are earlier in date (the latest ones being from the first half of the third century) in comparison with many of the Greek ones (which can date also to the fourth/fifth centuries). 50 Egyptian language written using the Greek alphabet plus some additional signs. 51 Papyri Graecae Magicae – Die Griechischen Zauberpapyri I–II–[III]. The third volume, which contained indices and explanations of magical words, is still available to scholars in photocopies since it reached only the stage of galley proofs (1941). 52 In 1973–1974. 53 In DANIEL/MALTOMINI, Supplementum Magicum (SM). 54 Two of them had already been published at the beginning of the twentieth century (GRIFFITH/THOMPSON, Demotic Magical Papyrus; H.I. BELL/NOCK/THOMPSON [eds.], Magical Texts) but
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the essential unity of Greek and Demotic magical texts was finally recognised as demonstrated by the work of HANS DIETER BETZ who, supervising a team of both classicists and Egyptologists, published in 1986 The Greek Magical Papyri in Translation – Including the Demotic spells. Thanks to this new interdisciplinary debate it was possible to establish some fundamental characteristics of the corpus, such as the predominance of the Egyptian and Greek components55 and the presence of many procedures and underlying conceptions that can be traced back to Egyptian religious tradition.56 Moreover, internal evidence demonstrates that the magical handbooks are the result of a long process of collection and re-elaboration of earlier material 57 and, among other specific factors, the use of Demotic, Old Coptic and especially ic58 proves that most of the compilation process must have been carried out within the Egyptian priestly milieu. 59 In particular, the compilers of the magical papyri, apart were then complemented by the editions of JOHNSON (JOHNSON, Leiden I 384; JOHNSON, Louvre E 3229). For a fifth fragment of handbook (P. BM EA 10808) see now DIELEMAN, Spätagyptisches magisches Handbuch; SEDERHOLM, Papyrus British Museum (though problematic, see QUACK, Review of SEDERHOLM). New translations of many Demotic spells appeared in QUACK, Demotische magische und divinatorische Texte. 55 Though e.g. Jewish, Mithraic, Babylonian, Christian and Gnostic elements are certainly present, they are often limited to divine names and voces magicae. Foreign influences at ritual or formulaic level are rarer, for a summary of the various cultural contributions in the PGM, see e.g. BRASHEAR, Greek Magical Papyri, 3422–9, with rich bibliography; in the PDM, see RITNER, Egyptian Magical Practice, 3351–2; also D. SCHWEMER’s contribution in this volume. 56 These include for example the fact that the ritual expert can identify himself with the gods or compel them with threats to do his bidding, or the power attributed to the knowledge of the ‘true’ secret name of divine entities, see e.g. BRASHEAR, Greek Magical Papyri, 3390–95; KÁKOSY, Probleme der Religion, 3028–43; SAUNERON, Aspects et sort; RITNER, Egyptian Magical Practice, 3345–55, 3362–71; RITNER, Mechanics, in particular 112–19, 157–9, 193–9; KOENIG, Magie et magiciens, 60–72, 156–65; cf. also QUACK, From Ritual to Magic. 57 Their sources can almost always be placed at least one century earlier in comparison with the dating of the papyri. On this textual history see e.g. BRASHEAR, Greek Magical Papyri, 3414–16; DIELEMAN, Scribal Practices; for the example of the bilingual PGM XII/PDM xii and PDM xiv/PGM XIV see DIELEMAN, Priests, especially 47–101. Considering also that among the unpublished Demotic texts there are manuals from the Saite or Ptolemaic Periods (e.g. P. Brooklyn 47.218.47 vs. and P. Heidelberg Dem. 5 that will be published by J.F. QUACK), and that some rare examples of Greek handbooks date to the first century BCE/CE (e.g. PGM XX; SM 71, 72; P. Oxy. 4468), it clearly appears that this literature must have started to circulate and be copied at a much earlier date than that of most extant documents. 58 Egyptian literacy had always been rooted in the temples (see e.g. BAINES, Literacy, especially 580–83; VLEEMING, Some Notes; TAIT, Some Notes, 190–92; CLARYSSE, Egyptian Religion, 565–8, 573) and, while in Graeco-Roman Egypt Greek was often used by literate Egyptians (see e.g. LEWIS, Greeks, 26–7; DEPAUW, Companion, 41–4; CRIBIORE, Writing, Teachers, 43–8; D.J. THOMPSON, Literacy and Power, 72–5), Hieratic had been confined to the temple scriptorium since about the seventh century BCE, and later the same happened to literary Demotic after the introduction of Greek as the language of the administration (see also e.g. DEPAUW, Language Use, 494–9; SAUNERON, Conditions d’accès, 55–7; TAIT, Demotic Literature; CRIBIORE, Gymnastics of the Mind, 22–3; D.J. THOMPSON, Literacy and Power, especially 82–3). 59 See e.g. DIELEMAN, Priests; DIELEMAN, Scribal Practices; RITNER, Egyptian Magical Practice, 3361–2; FRANKFURTER, Consequences of Hellenism; FRANKFURTER, Dynamics.
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from being trained in the Egyptian scripts, must have had at a certain stage access to temple libraries. However, considering that the rituals described by the spells are not connected with an official religious institution since they are mostly performed by the magician alone and in a private setting, the compilers were probably ritual experts, maybe off-duty priests, whom a person in need of a specific spell could consult.60 In particular, considering how the traditional Egyptian Hk# clashed with Greek and especially with Roman views,61 it is possible that with the gradual decline of the influence of the temple institution professional priests started to freelance more often at a local level shifting from official clergymen to ritual experts or ‘magicians’.62 They also had to acknowledge the existence of a new culturally mixed clientele and develop new strategies to appeal to it, such as ‘translating’ their own tradition and integrating it with other contemporary magico-religious or philosophical belief systems. Taking into consideration these essential characteristics of the corpus, recent research has produced many valuable results.63 At the same time, a new focus has been put on the importance of producing improved editions of the source material. On the Greek side, several scholars at different institutions decided to cooperate for the re-edition of the handbooks of the corpus under the direction of S. TORALLAS-TOVAR and C. FARAONE (project of the Neubauer Collegium, Chicago University, called Greek Magical Papyri: Transmission of Magical Knowledge in Antiquity: the Papyrus Magical Handbooks in Context): their main aim is to provide a more up to date text edition (compared to PREISENDANZ’s) – possibly improving papyrus readings, translations and apparatus – as well as a better understanding of the extant manuscripts themselves.64 On the Egyptian side, J.F. QUACK and K. DZWIZA are working on an edition of new Demotic fragments and a re-edition of PDM xii, xiv, lxi and Suppl. at the University of Heidelberg (project Corpus der demotischen magischen Texte).65 Such updated editions will represent a fundamental tool for future studies, especially considering that research on the magical papyri is far from being exhausted. In particular, the coherent investigation of single elements, techniques, spells or papyri and their cultural history, or of the conceptualisation and supposed functioning of the rituals in their 60
See e.g. QUACK, Kontinuität und Wandel, especially 85, 89; QUACK, Postulated and Real Efficacy; cf. QUACK, Remarks on Egyptian Rituals, 143–4. 61 See e.g. GRAF, How to Cope, 102–9; KIPPENBERG, Magic; GORDON, Imagining, especially 253–66. 62 See e.g. FRANKFURTER, Religion, 198–237; FRANKFURTER, Ritual Expertise; FRANKFURTER, Consequences of Hellenism; also KÁKOSY, Probleme der Religion, 3025–35. However, it should be kept in mind that some papyri that appear to come from Hermonthis (see DOSOO, Rituals of Apparition, 162–4; DOSOO, History, 265–6) are linked with accounts of a large estate and copies of the Psalms, so the last owner could have been a wealthy Christian without temple affiliation. 63 See above n. 1–4. 64 The latter point has already been demonstrated by the enlightening articles on PGM III and PGM VI/II: LOVE, ‘PGM III’ Archive; CHRONOPOULOU, PGM VI. For a summary of the history of research on the PGM/PDM and some glimpses into the most recent developments cf. also the paper by R. GORDON in this volume. 65 See also the new edition of the Old Coptic (parts of) spells in PGM IV by LOVE, CodeSwitching.
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own time frame (Late Roman Egypt) still remains a major desideratum – especially if conducted from a transcultural perspective. In order to reach an overarching understanding of ancient magic, research dedicated to material objects, especially the so-called magical gems, represents an important complement to the studies concerned with the written sources. The direct relationship between magical handbooks and gems is still controversial, since up to now only very few cases are known in which the design on an intaglio exactly corresponds to the one given in a handbook instruction. Nevertheless, even if we hypothesise different agents and places of production for manuals and gems, they clearly represent diverse but related outputs of the same mental landscape. 66 Current and future research is now facilitated by several recent editions and catalogues of gems stored in various museum collections.67 The essays collected in this section of the volume contribute toward the above mentioned research topics by illuminating the often multi-layered and multicultural nature of magical texts and practices on several levels: – Extant single papyrus manuals, in which a collection of spells, usually for various purposes, has been chosen and edited by one or several scribes who might (but need not!) have been identical with the (final?) owner/s and user/s of these handbooks.68 Close examination of the original papyri, their layout and scribal treatment of scripts, signs, structuralising markers, corrections, glosses etc. allow for well-founded hypotheses about the collecting, writing and editing process of such manuals as well as about the individual scribes/collectors. – ‘Genres’ of specific magical techniques, such as lamp divination, dream oracles or spells for fashioning divine images for oracular purposes, or for protection and prosperity. 69 When examining such spell types synoptically throughout the different manuals, the comparison between single rituals can provide valuable insights into the chronology of the development of these practices, into their cultural traditions, as well as into the editorial history of 66 On some problems concerning the research on magical gems, see QUACK, From Egyptian Traditions. 67 E.g. PHILIPP, Mira et magica; ZWIERLEIN-DIEHL, Magische Amulette; MICHEL, Gemmen im Britischen Museum; MICHEL, Bunte Steine; MASTROCINQUE (ed.), SGG I–II; MASTROCINQUE, Intailles magiques (a new edition of the gems originally published in A. DELATTE/DERCHAIN, Intailles magiques); ŚLIWA, Magical Gems; the Campbell Bonner Magical Gems Database (http://classics. mfab.hu/talismans/visitatori_salutem) aimed at bringing online the entire corpus of magical gems. On the subject see also overarching studies such as MICHEL, Bilder und Zauberformeln; ENTWISTLE/ ADAMS (eds.), ‘Gems of Heaven’. 68 Cf. e.g. the thorough study of PGM IV by LIDONNICI, Compositional Patterns. Within the present volume, this level is dealt with especially in the contribution by R. GORDON on the example of the Greek handbook PGM VII. Cf. also the paper by S. NAGEL dealing with the handbooks PDM xiv (P. Mag. LL) and PGM IV. 69 These groups of spells are examined in the papers by S. NAGEL, L.M. BORTOLANI, and C.A. FARAONE and A. HALUSZKA respectively.
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–
–
–
closely related spells (the latter is e.g. observable in the long handbook P. Mag. LL = PDM xiv). Single spells and sections of spells. The detailed discussion of one particular example as a case study can be very fruitful for detecting elements of cultural plurality and fusion and to find out if, and how, they interact together within the spell. 70 Especially within unusual, unique texts (the aim or certain elements of which do not have other parallels), a careful comparison with sources from the cultural traditions in question is fundamental for the understanding of the mechanics and ancient concepts behind the practice. The divine world invoked and its iconography, whether fashioned or drawn in the course of the magical practice, or even depicted within the manuals themselves.71 Epithets, magical names as well as descriptions of images abound in the PDM and PGM and try to capture the nature of the deities in order to gain control over them. In this area, religious plurality is often observable, especially in the voces magicae-strings. However, to what degree was this plurality perceived by the ancient composers/users? Detailed observations on the construction of divinity in the magical papyri lead to an evaluation of its cultural origin and of the degree of fusion among divine personas of various religious systems.72 The local, institutional or private environment of composition of these spells and the socio-cultural background of their compilers and users. 73 Although archaeological data about the finds of the papyri are in most cases uncertain or even completely lost, clues for the reconstruction of a wider context of production and use of both the manuals and the specific rituals contained in them might be provided by careful studies of specific aspects: the materiality of the manuscripts, their scripts and languages, the literary and religious traditions behind their rituals, and the way these are consciously or unconsciously stylised and presented, as well as additional external evidence.74
Although most papers actually cover several of the aspects described above (cf. the footnotes), this section of the volume is further subdivided into two parts reflecting the main approach of the eight contributions contained in it. Thus, the first four papers are dedicated specifically to single handbooks and/or magical techniques, some of which
70
Examples of single spells or spells’ sections are discussed in some detail by S. NAGEL (PGM IV 930–1114), C.A. FARAONE (PGM III.2 292–310, V 447–58, IV 3125–71 and 2359–72), J.F. QUACK (PGM XII 232–5 and IV 3086–124), R. PHILLIPS (PGM XIII 270–77), A. HALUSZKA (PGM IV 2359–72, 3125–71, VIII 1–63 and IV 2373–440) and M. RISTORTO (PGM IV 2891–941). 71 Questions surrounding the nature and iconography of the deities involved are addressed by L.M. BORTOLANI, C.A. FARAONE, J.F. QUACK, A. HALUSZKA and M. RISTORTO. 72 Cf. also the monograph on this subject on the example of the Greek hymns in the PGM by BORTOLANI, Magical Hymns. 73 Some of these aspects are considered especially in the papers by R. GORDON, S. NAGEL and C.A. FARAONE. 74 Cf. also the thorough study of two bilingual manuscripts by DIELEMAN, Priests.
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are also attested outside the Graeco-Egyptian magical papyri, thereby employing a wide focus and synoptic methodology. RICHARD GORDON begins his contribution addressing some important questions about various characteristic features of Graeco-Egyptian magical texts. In particular, he investigates their relation to earlier Egyptian temple-practice and why they are written largely in Greek and display a strong syncretistic nature. The possible reasons behind these features appear to be the needs of the new culturally mixed clientele and the competition between ritual experts that operated at different levels, as also reflected by the different types of documents in the corpus of Graeco-Egyptian magical texts: from the ones consisting in a single magical procedure to ambitious collections of numerous complex rituals. GORDON considers the latter as especially relevant for investigating the compilers’ ‘view of the project of magic’ and self-understanding, and thus the second part of his contribution focuses on one of these ambitious collections, PGM VII. The author analyses its palaeographical details, organisation of the text, lectional marks and, most importantly, some specific formal elements ‘unconsciously’ preserved by the copyists (such as different methods of indicating the voces magicae, the omission of headings or the use of non-standard abbreviations). The analysis confirms that at a certain stage of transmission the collection was assembled from four pre-existent manuals, which, according to GORDON, were in their turn compiled from roughly 33 smaller blocks. In its different stages, this collection process appears to have relied on the circulation of the material, for example through correspondence between fellow practitioners. In the final section, GORDON discusses the transcultural elements found in PGM VII (Jewish, Egyptian and Greek) and the content of the papyrus, especially underlining the importance of analysing magical handbooks in their entirety in order to try to reconstruct the practitioners’ interests, competences and selfunderstanding and the demands of their clients. SVENJA NAGEL and LJUBA M. BORTOLANI’s contributions deal with the two interrelated divination techniques lychnomancy and dream divination. NAGEL first presents an overview of the extant lamp divination spells and analyses their general characteristics, commonalities and differences, concluding that two different types or traditions of lychnomancy rituals are present in the handbooks: an ‘Egyptian’ type and a ‘Greek’ or ‘Apollonian’ type. In the second part of the paper, a detailed case study on the example PGM IV 930–1114 throws light on the structure of this spell, the rationale of several elements of the ritual and their cultural background. Finally, the attempted reconstruction of a redactional history demonstrates the complex entanglement of various cultural elements and their successive editing in accord with the users’ needs: although the case study spell can be counted among the ‘Egyptian type’ rituals, it has been given a structural framework and additional elements that testify to a careful editing aimed at users alien to the original Egyptian ritual tradition. LJUBA M. BORTOLANI begins her contribution presenting an overview of the extant dream oracle spells. Considering that this divination technique is the most heterogeneous, the author tries to identify some common features that might help in distinguishing different subgroups of dream oracles and at the same time hint to a Greek or Egyptian cultural tradition. First, the use of lamps and the possible cultural backgrounds of the many deities invoked by the dream oracles are analysed. Second, BORTOLANI con-
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siders the distribution of some features that are easily traceable to one or the other cultural tradition, namely the use of laurel (Greek), of bricks and the mention of the four cardinal points (Egyptian). This preliminary analysis suggests the existence of two separate lines of development for the dream oracle spells: one Egyptian, partly interrelated with the lamp divination technique, and one Greek, partly influenced by the high reputation of Apollonian divination but with no clear connection with the great tradition of Greek incubation oracles. CHRISTOPHER A. FARAONE investigates the PGM’s recipes for the creation of statues and images on gems with oracular and protective function. In particular, he compares them with similar objects and their descriptions in contemporary or earlier lapidary handbooks and literary sources. First, the author focuses on the images of Apollo used to obtain oracles and how they actually functioned. Second, he concentrates on recipes for protection and/or prosperity that employ three iconographies that had a long tradition as protective/beneficial domestic images in Egyptian, Roman and Greek culture respectively: the so-called Pantheos, the god Mercury with his wand and purse 75 and the three-bodied Hekate. Throughout the analysis the author takes into consideration the presence of cultural pluralism and concludes that, outside the magical papyri, other traditions for creating oracular/protective statues/images show few or no signs of multicultural influences. At the same time, in the analysed recipes of the PGM, the integration of other cultural traditions is often achieved in ways that are e.g. superficial or meant to be known only by the magical practitioner. A traditional image, well-known in one culture, is adapted and transformed to better fit the GraecoEgyptian users and their clientele through either simple additions/changes in nomenclature or small variations in function. These limited signs of cultural pluralism, and the fact that they were often not visible in the final product, suggest that these recipes were not always designed by Egyptian priests to repackage older Pharaonic rituals, but often represent their attempt ‘to recast non-Egyptian magical objects or rituals in a form that they themselves could appreciate and understand’. The second part consists of studies focussing on specific spells, in some cases without close parallels within the corpus (that we know of), and the deities addressed in them. JOACHIM F. QUACK illuminates the divine world and religious concepts contained in the passages PGM XII 232–5 and PGM IV 3086–124. The first section features an enumeration of the members of the Heliopolitan Ennead, with the names of the Egyptian deities either transcribed into Greek or ‘translated’ into those of divine counterparts in the Greek pantheon. By analysing some noticeable details of the spell, in which this section appears (PGM XII 201–69), the copying and editing process is assessed and it becomes clear that in its final stages the compilers’ understanding of the text was decreasing, which in its turn led to disintegration of meaning. The second case study concerns a spell called ‘The Oracle of Kronos’, especially a phylactery employed during the ritual. QUACK demonstrates that in this case, elements of two mythological traditions (Egyptian and Greek) have been fused in a meaningful way, 75 For this iconography and related spells in the PGM see also A. HALUSZKA’s contribution in this volume.
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which means that the author(s) must have had a deeper understanding of them in order for the mechanics of the spell to work. RICHARD PHILLIPS unfolds the mingled religious and literary traditions behind the only spell for human shape-shifting in the corpus, PGM XIII 270–77. He points out that the transformation here is especially aimed at hiding the performer’s identity and therefore belongs to the wider context of rituals for achieving anonymity, such as invisibility spells. The idea of human shape-shifters has precedents in Egyptian funerary and narrative texts as well as in Greek and Roman mythology and literature. In order to better contextualise this singular spell, PHILLIPS discusses several examples of both these traditions, paying special attention to transformations into animals, plants or other parts of nature parallel to the list of possible shapes given in the magical handbook. Similarly to SCHWEMER’s call for clear-cut criteria for the evaluation of ‘Mesopotamian’ influences in the PGM/PDM, PHILLIPS asks himself what kind of similarities or connections can be considered significant enough when trying to ascertain if a passage in the magical papyri derives from a specific textual tradition. After careful comparisons with various examples of shape-shifting scenes, he concludes that the passage in question does not descend from one specific source but is likely influenced by a plurality of connected concepts in Greek and Egyptian mind-sets. ADRIA HALUSZKA explores the complicated negotiation of meaning behind the study of sacred images analysing the PGM’s recipes for achieving prosperity in business that involve the creation of three-dimensional statuettes. Making large use of CHARLES PEIRCE’s theory of signs and especially of his concepts of ‘icon’ and ‘index’, the author underlines that, as voces magicae can serve as ‘indices’ to the designated divine powers, also three-dimensional images function as ‘indices’ to ‘an amalgam of divine forces beyond the sum of their visual iconography’. HALUSZKA analyses first the statuettes created in PGM IV 2359–72 and 3125–71,76 giving special attention to their hollowness, to the materials (often inscribed) that can be put inside them and to the consecration rituals that activate them. She then proceeds with PGM VIII 1–63 and IV 2373–440 that, though presenting some variations, follow the same main scheme according to which the statue is created using perceived iconographical associations and is provided with secret names that are somehow contained in it. The selected examples also stress the importance of Graeco-Roman Hermes (being the main deity in three of the rituals) as transcultural god of trade and commerce and his fusion with the Egyptian Thoth. Though culturally diverse clients and practitioners could be behind specific iconographical choices, it is important to remember that these statues do not function as simple iconographic representations, but can be ascribed a multiplicity of meanings as ‘indices’ pointing to the immediacy and presence of the divine forces during the rituals. MARCELA RISTORTO concludes this section investigating the dynamics behind the love spell PGM IV 2891–941 and discussing the culturally diverse details of the ritual and of the hymn to Aphrodite it contains. First, the author analyses the hymn considering its structure, the epithets of the goddess, and other divine entities and voces magi76 These two spells are discussed also in the contribution by C.A. FARAONE, but with a different focus.
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cae employed in the composition. Through comparison with Greek literary sources it appears that, even if various aspects of the deity described belong to the Greek Aphrodite, many others were borrowed from other Greek goddesses, possibly because of the flexible nature of polytheism. At the same time, the hymn integrates elements from Near Eastern tradition, with which the figure of Aphrodite displayed associations already in the second millennium BCE. Even if some of the hymn’s epithets may allude to Aphrodite’s identification with Isis-Hathor, it is the analysis of the praxis and of its different subparts that reveals most of the Egyptian cultural elements. Structurally, the magical hymn to Aphrodite does not substantially differ from a ‘religious’ hymn, but the two can be distinguished thanks to their public versus private, magical context. Moreover, the hymn presents the goddess as an all-powerful deity with extended competence over the Underworld and integrates various cultural traditions, thus illuminating the evolution of Aphrodite’s divine persona in Roman Egypt.
Part III Integration and transformation of Graeco-Egyptian magic in Jewish and Byzantine spells The final section of this volume is dedicated to the integration and later developments of the ritual lore known from the PGM and PDM in two other magical traditions. Apart from the Graeco-Egyptian magico-religious main stratum, Jewish religion and, to a lesser extent, emerging Christianity left some traces in the material assembled in the magical papyri.77 Autochthonous Jewish magic developed especially between the third century BCE and the seventh century CE, producing collections of spells such as the well-known Sefer ha-Razim. 78 This book, that was probably written around the middle of the first millennium CE,79 has been recently confirmed to have been actually used in medieval Cairo and can be considered as the most influential text of Jewish magic in the Middle Ages and beyond. Being in origin more or less contemporary to Graeco-Egyptian magical literature, the recipes of the Sefer ha-Razim display many similarities with the PGM/PDM, so that it has been suggested that its compiler(s) were intimately familiar with them and in some cases reworked this material, while framing it with distinctively Jewish ouranology and angelology.80 On the other hand, the Jewish elements in Graeco-Egyptian magical literature do not necessarily seem to be connected specifically to Jewish magical tradition since they consist mainly in divine and angelic names that, as SCHWEMER demonstrates for 77
See above n. 43 for bibliography on Jewish elements; furthermore, on Christian influences, e.g. Great Magical Papyrus. 78 See the recent edition by REBIGER/SCHÄFER, Sefer ha-Razim. 79 Though only later copies (either fragments or manuscripts) are extant today, see e.g. MARGALIOTH, Sepher ha-Razim, 47–55; BOHAK, Ancient Jewish Magic, 170–75. 80 See the paper by G. BOHAK and A. BELLUSCI in this volume; cf. also the contribution by S. NAGEL, 142, for a parallel between passages in the PDM/PGM and the Sefer ha-Razim. VAN DER HORST,
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the Mesopotamian elements (see above), appear to be mostly disconnected from their original religious context.81 In fact, as BOHAK states, apart from some standard names and short phrases that are repeated quite frequently, actual adoptions of Hebrew sentences or detailed thematic motives are relatively rare, and ‘Hebrew’ interpretations that have been suggested for various voces magicae in the past were often erroneous.82 On the other hand, there is a strong tendency in the magical tradition to independently develop, modify and combine words and elements once they have entered this sphere (e.g. angel names, which could be invented ad hoc by just adding the ending -ēl to any word). However, only in isolated cases does the employment of Hebrew elements really demonstrate a deeper knowledge and meaningful integration of them into the surrounding ritual practice or recitation.83 GIDEON BOHAK and ALESSIA BELLUSCI’s contribution explores the opposite tendency, i.e. the integration and reworking of Greek recipes in the Jewish magical framework. They focus on a prayer to Helios that appears within a complex divination ritual in the Sefer ha-Razim (book that should originally be more or less contemporary to the Graeco-Egyptian manuals) and is especially relevant since it consists of a long set of Greek words transcribed in the Hebrew alphabet. Though already studied by various scholars, BOHAK and BELLUSCI provide new insights about it thanks to the publication of a new fragment from Cairo Genizah (from the twelfth/thirteenth century CE) that contains an applied spell, or ‘finished product’, including the up to now earliest known copy of the prayer to Helios. The authors provide a word by word analysis trying to reconstruct the Greek original and the various stages of textual corruption: the Greek meaning of the prayer was not understood anymore and the fragment does not preserve an accurate transliteration also because of the problems inherent in the differences between Greek and Hebrew alphabet and language. Nevertheless, some of the readings appear to be superior to the previously available textual witnesses. This allows BOHAK and BELLUSCI to present a more reliable reconstruction, which allows them to both identify some similarities/differences between this prayer and the PGM’s ones, and demonstrate that the prayer to Helios was a much simpler text than assumed by earlier scholars. As far as Christian elements in the corpus of the Graeco-Egyptian magical papyri are concerned, they are mainly limited to few names and applied spells, in which e.g. Jesus Christ is invoked instead of, or together with, the usual magical divine ties.84 However, in Egypt, the emerging Christian belief started to adapt the existing magical lore to its own social and theological framework, producing Christian amulets 81
For the few exceptions demonstrating a more extensive and consistent Jewish background, see below n. 83. 82 BOHAK, Hebrew, Hebrew Everywhere?, 77. 83 E.g. the ‘Stele of Jeu’ PGM V 96–172, PGM XXXVI 295–311, some exorcism spells and PDM xiv 117–49, cf. QUACK, Alttestamentliche Motive (especially for the latter); BOHAK, Ancient Jewish Magic, especially 196–7, 201–7. 84 There are only few references to Christian religion (i.e. to Jesus Christ) in the handbooks, e.g. PGM IV 3020 (cf. PGM XII 190–92); cf. on this subject e.g. PACHOUMI, Concepts of the Divine, 109–22.
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and magical handbooks mainly in Coptic language that are studied today as separate corpora.85 Moreover, the persistence of the Graeco-Egyptian magical tradition can be traced even in later epochs and outside Egypt in the new social, political and cultural Christian environment. For example, as ZELLMANN-ROHRER demonstrates, magical rituals that still display a connection to earlier practices can be found in Byzantine manuscripts. Scholarly interest in this field is still quite recent86 and further investigations will be welcomed with great anticipation as they might throw new light on the mechanics of reshaping ancient magical lore in the Middle Ages and beyond. MICHAEL ZELLMANN-ROHRER, in the final contribution, takes an important step in this direction tracing examples of the survival of practices known from the PGM in Byzantine and even later Greek magical texts. Not only the positive identification of such continued traditions but also the contemporaneous scribes and users’ attitudes towards this ancient material are important objectives throughout this paper, which focuses specifically on healing and apotropaic incantations. The author considers three different ways in which earlier traditions can be treated: complete omission, direct and unmediated inclusion, and, most commonly, mediated adaptation. ZELLMANN-ROHRER lists seven structural features as direct survivals, among them the use of voces magicae and words in foreign languages, whether they consist of old formulas known from antiquity or are new borrowings and distortions from contemporary languages. Concerning the category of mediated survivals, one main mechanism of adaptation is the addition of a Christian frame to the magical practice; according to the author this was done with the aim of increasing the power, and not for ‘sanitisation’ of the rituals. In a final case study the author analyses the process of mediated survival through the example of the ‘ὑστέρα formula’. These two last contributions, with their cultural and chronological depth, underline thus the persistence of Graeco-Egyptian magical lore. ZELLMANN-ROHRER even mentions some of its possible vestiges up to modern times, providing a befitting reminder of the extent of this tradition’s reach, which has not been fully explored yet.87 As a whole, the papers of this volume examine a plurality of magico-religious traditions and how they merged and culminated in Roman Egypt in the Greek and Demotic 85 On Coptic Magic, see especially KROPP, Koptische Zaubertexte I–III; MEYER/SMITH (eds.), Ancient Christian Magic; CHOAT/GARDNER, Coptic Handbook. On Christian amulets see DE BRUYN/ DIJKSTRA, Greek Amulets; DE BRUYN, Making Amulets Christian; cf. also WILLER, Papyrusamulette; LACERENZA, Jewish Magicians. Cf., more generally, MO. SMITH, How Magic Was Changed; SPIESER, Christianisme et magie. A new (doctoral) study on the survival of ancient Egyptian religious traditions in Coptic magical texts is now envisaged by K. HEVESI, Heidelberg. Furthermore, a new research project led by KORSHI DOSOO, called The Coptic Magical Papyri: Vernacular Religion in Late Antique and Early Islamic Egypt, started at the University of Würzburg in September 2018. 86 Cf. MAGUIRE, Introduction, 7. See for some introductory bibliography e.g. n. 2 in M. ZELLMANN-ROHRER’s contribution. 87 For further examples of specific techniques known from the Graeco-Egyptian handbooks that persisted until (early) modern times, see QUACK, Zauber ohne Grenzen, 196–9 (for thief-catching spells) and NAGEL, Liebesbann, 271–2 (for erotic spells).
Introduction
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magical papyri, which in their turn hatched further developments in temporally and geographically diverse environments. In some cases these traditions actually reached a degree of mutual fusion, while in others they contributed with more scattered elements through simpler juxtaposition. At the same time, while the accumulation of different cultural elements generally increased in time, the awareness of their origins/original meaning gradually disappeared in a transcultural ‘language of magic’.
Acknowledgements We would like to thank the Cluster of Excellence Asia and Europe in Global Context of the University of Heidelberg for the financial and technical support and the Internationales Wissenschaftsforum Heidelberg for providing invaluable help in organisational matters during the conference. They facilitated the smooth running of our workshop in an inspiring and comfortable atmosphere. Further thanks are due to our graduate assistant KRISZTINA HEVESI, MA, for helping us in editing this volume.
PART I EGYPTIAN, GREEK AND MESOPOTAMIAN TRADITIONS OF MAGIC: DIFFERENT GENRES, PERCEPTION OF THE ‘OTHER’ AND POSSIBLE TRANSCULTURAL EXCHANGE
Magical Practices in Egyptian Literary Texts: in Quest of Cultural Plurality1 FRANZISKA NAETHER The aim of this paper is to examine selected passages from Egyptian literary texts (narratives, wisdom and discursive texts) pertaining to cultural plurality in Egyptian magical practices – a significant part of the overall corpus of ancient Egyptian literature.2 These are drawn from my research project ‘Cult Practice in Ancient Egyptian Literature’ / ‘Kultpraxis in der altägyptischen Literatur’.3 The case studies taken from such sources and presented here contain magical elements to which cultural plurality is of immediate relevance: I will explore Egyptian views on foreigners, foreign protagonists and practices characterised as being from foreign countries.
1. Case studies: examples of cultural plurality in Egyptian literary texts 1.1. Foreign countries in general With regard to cultural plurality in magical texts, the late HEINZ-JOSEF THISSEN’s contribution about Nubian elements in the magical papyri immediately comes to mind.4 There, he argues that spells which are said to be of ‘Nubian’ origin, which have to be recited in the ‘Nubian’ or ‘Ethiopian’ language are a topos, an element of exotic 1
I wish to thank the organisers for the invitation and for having accepted a paper not about the plurality of magical practices themselves but rather on the reception of them in literary texts. Many thanks are also due to the speakers and guests of the workshop and two lectures in Leipzig who gave valuable input, hints and questions on the topic presented here and for further research. Furthermore, I am grateful for multiple suggestions by the editors as well as by GIL H. RENBERG for helpful suggestions to improve this contribution. 2 In total: 104 narrative texts (e.g. stories, novels, tales); 90 instructive texts (basically wisdom texts); 13 discursive texts (e.g. complaints, prophecies). If not stated otherwise, all transliterations are taken from the TLA, accessed on December 31, 2014. Note that not all the stories have ancient or modern titles; some are cited by their inventory or publication number. 3 This is my Habilitation thesis, for which I collect and analyse all passages that contain cult practices to explore seven research questions: 1, The Setting of the Sources, 2, Cult Practices in the Literature, 3, The Presentation of the Divine, 4, Divine Justice – Sacred Jurisdiction, 5, Fate and Future Prospects, 6, Self-Reflection about Cult Practice, 7, The Untold and the Secret. 4 For the Greek and Demotic magical papyri (PGM and PDM), see now JÖRDENS (ed.), Ägyptische Magie, especially my contribution about the magical papyri (NAETHER, Griechischägyptische Magie).
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and foreign magic to make the spell more effective5 – though the possibility of loanwords cannot be excluded in times of cultural contact. Whether an ‘Urtext’ or etymologies can really be assigned to Nubia does not matter (and is most likely not correct), but what matters is their ritual power during performance. With that in mind, it was my hope to detect comparable phenomena in the literary texts and therefore I searched for ‘foreign’ elements in the description of cult practices, throughout the surviving body of Egyptian literature. In general, it can be observed in their literature that the Egyptian view of foreign countries (‘Fremdländer’) is a rather pejorative one.6 Egypt shared frontiers with peoples in the Libyan desert in the West, with Nubians in the South and with Near Eastern peoples, simply called ‘Asiatics’, in the Northeast. During the course of history, these areas stood under command or influence of the Egyptian crown – or, from time to time, were lost to other rulers. Apart from locally based opponents, the Egyptians fought with enemies that were harder to tackle: mobile, non-stationary ethnic groups such as the sea peoples, bedouins or marauding shepherds in the Nile Delta. That being said, it is apparent that these groups served as basic symbols of opponents not only in the political ideology and as a powerful ‘Feindbild’ in the ruler cult, but also as representations of enemies in literary sources. Some examples of that are discussed below and they feature especially the ‘Asiatics’ and the ‘Nubians’. 1.2. Egypt and the Levant According to Egyptian royal ideology, foreign countries should be under the control of the Pharaoh – after he has conquered these territories – and administrated by viceroys or ruled by crown princes who secure payments of tributes in kind. Additionally, the foreigners should at least be afraid of the Egyptian monarch, as mentioned in the Story of Sinuhe: there, the desirable amount of fear is described as being as big as the fear of
5 THISSEN, Nubien, 376. On language as means of distinction, see KOENIG, Image of the Foreigner, 225–6. Magical practices seemed to have been more inclined towards borrowing foreign elements than other cult practices; see QUACK, Importing, 262 and 268. FREDERIC KRUEGER brought to my attention the similar though not completely comparable phenomenon of the use of Old Coptic spells and the use of Coptic within Greek magical texts. For Greek, Demotic and Old-Coptic glosses, see DIELEMAN, Priests, 64–9; 71–2 and QUACK, How the Coptic Script (especially pp. 55–74) and LOVE, Code-Switching (non vidi). 6 LOPRIENO, Topos, 22–34. His methodology has been criticised by BUCHBERGER, Zum Ausländer, 10–25, who does not believe in a uniform concept of the topos of ‘foreigners’ in Egyptian culture: followed by MOERS, Auch der Feind, 225–7, who offers a more differentiated discussion of the term rmṯ ‘man’. See also O’CONNOR, Egypt’s Views, 156–61. This view can differ from the perspective on foreigners living and being acculturated in Egypt; see VITTMANN, Zwischen Integration und Ausgrenzung, 562. Focussing on the Old, Middle and New Kingdom only, but nevertheless an important contribution, is MOERS, ‘Unter den Sohlen Pharaos’, differentiating between otherness (general pejorative views on all foreigners and considering them as enemies on a political level, pp. 88– 101) and alteration (encounters on a personal level, pp. 137–45). In his communication-based approach, not all meetings of Egyptians and foreigners lead automatically to social exclusion – there are several levels of rejection but also examples of integration.
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the goddess Sakhmet in the year of the pestilence.7 Sakhmet, a lion-headed goddess and the warlike pendant of the rather peaceful cat-headed goddess Bastet, is associated with fighting, but also with healing. Priests of Sakhmet had special knowledge in repelling diseases and were capable of performing magico-medical practices. 8 In this example, the Egyptian king is compared to a fierce goddess who is capable of destroying humans by illnesses. A similar passage from the same story praises the king as being as powerful as the divine uraeus snake on the crown he wears on his forehead, which causes foreigners to flee from him.9 The Story of Sinuhe is one of the most famous works from ancient Egypt. Apart from its modern reception in the last century, already in antiquity we can distinguish two traditions of transmission – basically one in the Middle and one in the New Kingdom Periods (c. 12th–14th and 18th–20th Dynasty, c. 1991–1690 and 1292–945 BCE). The story is attested in ten papyri and ostraka, some of them being evidence from educational contexts of the given time. At the beginning of the narration, the Pharaoh Amenemhat I dies and the protagonist Sinuhe, an office holder of the retinue of the crown prince, flees to foreign countries. Sinuhe overhears news about the death of the king, but his role in this remains unclear over the whole course of the story. During this, he relocates to the Near East, to an area in Egyptian called Upper Retjenu. The hero survives several adventures and manages to become a high-ranking official abroad with family and property. However, the main conflict of the work is the flight of the protagonist and his eventual wish to return home to Egypt in order to receive a proper burial. The narration explains further on that it was supposedly the aim of every Egyptian not to die in a foreign country and to be buried with local rites, but to die in Egypt and receive a proper burial following mummification and the rituals meant to guarantee dwelling in the afterlife. Thus, Sinuhe wishes to avoid the Asiatic rites in Upper Retjenu. A letter from the Pharaoh invites the ‘lost son’ to return home reminding him of Egyptian cult practices involving death and burial: Think about the day of burial, the passing over to an honored state. The night will be appointed for you with oils and poultices from the arms of Tayet (goddess of weaving). A procession will be made for you on the day of interment, the anthropoid sarcophagus (overlaid) with gold [leaf], the head with lapis lazuli, and the sky above you as you are placed in the outer coffin and drawn by teams of oxen preceded by singers. The dance of the Muu will be performed at your tomb, and the necessary offerings will be invoked for you. They will slaughter at the entrance of your tomb chapel, your pillars to be set up in limestone as is done for the royal children. You shall not die in a foreign land, and Asiatics will not escort you. You shall not be placed in a ram’s skin as they make your grave. All of this is too much for one who has roamed the earth. Take thought for your dead body and return.10
7
P. Berlin P. 10499, 67–74; P. Berlin P. 3022 & fragments P. Amherst m–q (B), 43–50 (attested in the Middle and the New Kingdom). See LOPRIENO, Topos, 50–55, who wants to see irony in this passage; MOERS, ‘Unter den Sohlen Pharaos’, 144–5 highlights the positive characterization of the foreign ruler Amunnenshi, Sinuhe’s master for his life abroad. 8 ENGELMANN/HALLOF, Sachmetpriester. 9 P. Berlin P. 10499, 87–8; parallels in O. Ashmolean Museum inv. 1945.40, 32 and P. Moscow inv. 4657, 3, 1–4. 10 P. Berlin P. 3022 and fragments P. Amherst m–q (B), 190–99, translation by SIMPSON (ed.), Literature, 62.
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The circumstances and driving power of the flight are described by him as ‘like a divine plan/ordeal’ (mj sḫr nṯr).11 The god – and here we must assume Sinuhe’s personal god – is angry with him and sends him to a foreign country by way of punishment but, when he considers Sinuhe to have suffered enough, he shows mercy and brings him back to Egypt.12 In his argumentation explaining the flight and defending his alleged cowardice, Sinuhe follows the rhetorical strategy of blaming a divine force, a divine form of justice, and later on in the narration his heart as being responsible for his actions.13 The story offers a happy ending for Sinuhe – he goes back to Egypt to enjoy his final days of life at home. The only mention of Arabia in the context of cult practice is rather meagre evidence: it occurs within a section of ‘pious wishes’ in the Demotic fable of the Swallow and the Sea. This and several other stories are written in Demotic on two large jars. The story of the swallow who asks the sea to protect her children in the nest has been dated to the first to second centuries CE and, more convincingly, to the first century BCE, and originates from the Memphite area.14 The sea does not take care of the little birds – they drown in a wave. Immediately, the swallow pursues revenge and the fable ends with her starting to throw sand in the sea to run it dry. This text is framed by a fictional letter bearing classical letter formulae.15 In fact, the fable is the main part or the body of text of the letter. Both the beginning of the letter, which features remarks of initial courtesy expressing well-wishes to the addressee, and the final scribal remark say that the Pharaoh should cut Arabia into pieces.16 In fact, the story of the swallow is a parable for the king to (re-)consider his actions towards Arabia. At the end, it is concluded that a conquest of Arabia is as impossible as the draining of the sea by the swallow – if the reading and the interpretation are correct. The land of Arabia is not further characterised here, but again the underlying concept is the Egyptian ruler’s ideology to control or at least to put fear into neighbouring countries. Similarly, rebels, Asiatics and Libyans are said to be slain by a new saviour king and calmed by the uraeus on his crown in the Prophecy of Neferti. This discursive text from the time of Pharaoh Amenemhat I (c. 1994–1975 BCE)17 contains a prophecy exeventu told by the Egyptian sage Neferti who receives a dark vision of Egypt in turmoil, where law and order (in Egyptian belief system the Ma’at) have no meaning, society is upturned and cultic secrets are revealed. Especially the Asiatics are referred 11 P. Berlin P. 3022 and fragments P. Amherst m–q (B), 42–3. See as well PARKINSON, Poetry, 155–6 and PARKINSON, Sinuhe’s Dreaming(s), 149. 12 P. Berlin P. 3022 and fragments P. Amherst m–q (B), 148–9. 13 P. Berlin P. 3022 and fragments P. Amherst m–q (B), 182–3. See, e.g., Onchsheshonqi’s similar argumentation using blame-shifting to explain to the Pharaoh why he refrained from telling him about a planned assassination (P. BM EA inv. 10508, 3, x+13–15). 14 COLLOMBERT, L’hirondelle. 15 See DEPAUW, Demotic Letter, 213–16. 16 Krugtexte, jar A, text 4, 16–17 and 22–3. There are other interpretations for the reading of this passage, such as HOFFMANN/QUACK, Anthologie, 194: ‘Weiß Pharao, mein großer Herr, daß ich fortgegangen bin aus dem Land Arabien?’ where this sentence is not part of the initial courtesy of the letter. 17 According to BLUMENTHAL, Neferti, 13.
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to as a negative force: they destroy fortifications of the borders and fall plundering upon the Eastern Delta region. However, this apocalyptic scenario is mended by the saviour king Ameni: The people of his time will rejoice, for this son of a man will establish his name for ever and eternity. But those who fall into evil, those who raise the cry of rebellion, they have lowered their voices through dread of him. The Asiatics will fall before his sword, the Libyans will fall before his fire; rebels will fall before his wrath, and enemies will fall through awe of him. For the uraeus on his brow will subdue his enemies for him.18
Without doubt, this also refers to political developments during the 12th Dynasty and its business with Levantine peoples. Some passages confront Egyptian and Asiatic magic and divine interventions. In the Tale of the Two Brothers,19 a lock of hair of a girl from a foreign country comes to Egypt by the sea: They (= the learned scribes) told Pharaoh, l(ife), p(rotection), h(ealth), ‘As for this tress of hair, / it belongs to a daughter of Pre-Harakhti in whom is the seed of every god. Now it is tribute to you another country. Send envoys forth to every foreign country to search for her.’20
This hair originates from a woman created by the gods. Earlier in this story, the protagonists Anubis and Bata fight against each other because Bata, the younger brother, did not respond to the sexual advances of Anubis’ wife. She takes revenge by telling Anubis that his brother wanted to rape her. The conflict escalates as Bata cuts off his own penis and flees to the Levant. Meanwhile, the Egyptian gods of the Ennead take mercy on him and create a beautiful female companion. Once when Bata goes hunting, the sea god Jam is able to obtain a lock of hair of the woman. He sends it by his waves to Egypt to the laundry of the palace where it perfumes the royal clothes. The Pharaoh is immediately attracted by the scent and after the abovementioned explanation, tries to secure the woman for himself. The creation of the woman in this narration is perceived as the work of an Egyptian god – in this case the girl being the daughter of the sun-god (P)Re-Harakhti, as the citation shows. The evil plot to separate her from her companion Bata and drawing her existence to the attention of the Egyptian Pharaoh, however, is done by the Levantine god of the sea, Jam. Here, as in the Story of Sinuhe (and as well as in the Story of Bes treated below), the foreign countries serve as destination of a flight. Both Bes and Bata hide from others and live in the woods, which does not remain undiscovered by the respective Egyptian Pharaohs. In the case of Bata’s female companion, the Levantine sea god Jam has a negative role. Jam demonstrates a similar behaviour in the story about the goddess Astarte, Astarte and the Sea.21 In both cases, the god is abducting Egyptian (or Egyptianised) holy women – a woman made by the gods (Bata’s wife) and the daugh18 Prophecy of Neferti, 61–5: translation by TOBIN, in SIMPSON (ed.), Literature, 220; MOERS, ‘Unter den Sohlen Pharaos’, 135–7. 19 The narrative is written in a beautiful late Egyptian Hieratic book hand, supposedly in the last years of king Merenptah in the late thirteenth/early twelfth century BCE. 20 Tale of the Two Brothers, 11, 4–7, translation by WENTE, in SIMPSON (ed.), Literature, 86. See also WETTENGEL, Erzählung, 133–8. 21 For the story, see COLLOMBERT/COULON, Dieux.
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ter of the god Ptah, Astarte. Interestingly, the Near Eastern goddess Astarte/Ištar belongs to the Egyptian pantheon in this narrative. The god Jam is a powerful creature, driven by sexual instinct and portrayed as cunning, and in both stories at first successful in his attempts, though he could not compete with the Egyptian opponents in the stories. His companion’s seizure leads to further complications for the protagonist Bata in the Tale of the Two Brothers: the abovementioned envoys from Egypt succeed in finding the woman. She becomes queen and tries to have Bata put to death. After several attempts and adventures, Bata is able to become the next Pharaoh – succeeded by his older brother Anubis with whom he reconciled and who helped him on his way to revenge against his sister-in-law. This story bears further allusions to cult practices which are worth exploring within an Egyptian context, since the majority of the storyline occurs in Egypt. They are not mentioned as explicitly foreign. However, in some stories, there are veritable battles of magicians which are mentioned below and contribute more to our research question of cultural plurality. In the late Hieratic Story of Wenamun from the 21st–23rd Dynasty, which includes a couple of magical and divinatory practices, the protagonist has to fetch wood for the ceremonial boat of Amun from Byblos in the Levant. Nothing happens as planned – Wenamun is delayed by local authorities and has to wait for further proceedings.22 He slowly begins to realise that Egypt’s former glory and the power of the god Amun could not contribute much to remedy his situation of uncertainty about his departure to Egypt and the bullying by officials in Levantine ports, who also do not act when he was robbed. In his plea to the god for help, he manufactures a casket for Amun-of-theway and his ‘things’ (|X.t) and hides this in his tent. The wording in the text is not very clear, but we can think of a shrine or an altar with a small divine cult statue of Amun and perhaps some cult instruments.23 Many amulets and statuettes have been found in the Levant, one function of which might have been to protect their owners from harm during the travel on sea and land from Egypt to elsewhere (and vice versa).24 Clearly, these are Egyptian cult practices performed on Lebanese soil, and – this is the decisive point in the Wenamun story – in secret. This contrasts with the evidence for the coexistence of cultural and religious plurality in the Levant. For reasons of fear and secrecy, Wenamun could not openly perform his ritual actions. But these events do not go unnoticed and the local governor and Wenamun’s opponent, Tjekerbaal, makes an offering to his local gods. During this event, one of the men in his entourage becomes a medium for a Lebanese god and utters in his ecstasy that Wenamun and the divine image of Amun-of-the-way should be brought: Now when he offered to his gods, the god took possession of a page (from the circle) of his pages and put him in an ecstatic state. He told him, ‘Bring the god up! Bring the envoy who is carrying him! It is Amun who sent him forth. It is he who had him come.’ For when the ecstatic became ecstatic that 22 LOPRIENO, Topos, 64–72 with a characterization of the conflict between the protagonists in the foreign country; SCHIPPER, Wenamun, 171–215. 23 P. Moscow inv. 120, 1, 34 = 3, 12. See MOERS, Fingierte Welten, 92–4; 272; SCHIPPER, Wenamun, 179–83. 24 See SCHIPPER, Wenamun, 182–3 with discussion.
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night, I [= Wenamun] had located a freighter headed for Egypt and had (already) loaded all my possessions into it but, so as to prevent another eye from seeing the god, I was waiting for darkness to fall that I might put him aboard. The harbor master came to me, saying, ‘Stay until tomorrow, so the prince says.’25
Inspirational mantic, ecstasy and (boy) mediums are not unknown to Egyptians,26 but this divinatory technique is presented here as a foreign way to communicate with gods.27 In Egypt, divinities issued their commands far more often by dreams and even in the PGM/PDM many spells for revelation involve dreams.28 However, in this situation the foreigners use a local technique with an inspired medium whose exact designation escapes us. Wenamun and his divine protector Amun must remain behind and are unable to turn the situation in their favour. When the protagonist is finally able to flee to Cyprus, the papyrus breaks off, but a good ending could be anticipated.29 In a world of encounter with the foreign, when identity formation by ethnicity gets blurry, religion still remains a tricky issue – especially for Egyptians who consider themselves as from a god-given superior empire.30 It is also worth considering the story of Bentresh, the sick princess of tan.31 Bakhtan is a foreign Asiatic country which is apparently on good terms with Egypt, because the Pharaoh sends the god Khonsu there from Thebes, transported in his mobile processional boat. Upon arriving, Khonsu cures Bentresh by Egyptian magic. She is possessed by a demon which seemingly could not be driven out with the help of Near Eastern healers and their powers. Khonsu’s work is regarded so highly that the ruler of Bakhtan first does not want to let him return to Egypt. Nevertheless, a dream revelation leads to the sending of Khonsu back to Thebes. We can conclude from this episode that Egyptian magic, divination and the gods should be considered as superior to their Asiatic counterparts. The narrative is preserved on a stela written in NeoMiddle Egyptian hieroglyphs from the fourth century BCE; there are some further fragments on a temple wall in Luxor that await publication.32 We turn to another region, the Eastern Delta, which was home to a group constantly opposing the crown, especially in the Third Intermediate Period (c. 1069–664 BCE). Though dwelling within Egypt, the inimical shepherds living there are one of the groups challenging the Pharaoh in the narrative cycle of the Inaros-Petubastis-Stories. 25 P. Moscow inv. 120, 1, 38–43 = 1, x+3–8, translation by WENTE, in SIMPSON (ed.), Literature, 118–19. MOERS, ‘Unter den Sohlen Pharaos’, 157 comments on a part of the story in which not only Wenamun but also the god Amun is made the laughingstock of the Byblites. 26 See NAETHER, Sortes Astrampsychi, 44–6 for an overview and C.J. MARTIN, Child, for an example. There are also examples in the PGM/PDM. 27 RITNER, Ecstatic Episode. For the problematic sentence structure and the term oDdjw-o#, a loanword which is used to represent the (young?) male medium or mantic professional possessed by the god, see the comments by LUTZ POPKO in the TLA concerning this passage. 28 See the contribution by L.M. BORTOLANI in this volume. 29 SCHIPPER, Wenamun, 277–81. 30 MOERS, ‘Unter den Sohlen Pharaos’, 154–5. 31 RITNER, in SIMPSON (ed.), Literature, 361–6. See also QUACK, Importing, 269–70. 32 BROZE, Bakhtan; L.D. BELL, Nouvelle version.
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They are called ‘herdsmen’ (o#m.w) and appear especially in the stories The Fight for the Prebend of Amun and The Fight for the Armor of Inaros. To date, several more stories from this cycle have been discovered, written in Demotic during the GraecoRoman Period but telling of an earlier period of Egyptian history. The already mentioned Story of Bes belongs to this cycle as well. Together, they form a treasure trove of narratives from the ancient world. One can assume that the territory of the rebellious shepherds in the Eastern Delta was not far away from the Sinai and their presumed wandering communities must have led to this designation – even though they perform Egyptian rites and worship Amun.33 I wish to conclude this section about Egyptian-Asiatic relations with a rather peculiar episode in the Teaching of Menena, a wisdom text from a father to his son Payiry/Mery-Sakhmet.34 Both individuals are known from other documents.35 The text is written in a late Hieratic book hand and stylised as a letter. With quotations from other literary texts, Menena is reprimanding his son in witty words for committing several crimes. The decisive sentence is in line 3, where he accuses Pay-iry of having eaten bread mixed with blood: ‘you intermingled with the Asiatics (o#m.w), while you ate bread with your own blood’.36 This kind of fraternisation with foreigners, whether true or not, must sound outrageous to Egyptians, especially to a readership of this teaching, within the context of Egyptian worldview. It might have involved a magical ritual of blood brotherhood. Maybe this short, offensive episode seemed more scandalous than Sinuhe in the Story of Sinuhe spending a considerable part of his lifetime in the Levant. 1.3. Egypt and Nubia The relationship between Egyptian and Nubian rituals and their practitioners can be distinguished from this image of conquest, integration and coexistence of Egyptian and ‘Asiatic’ cult practices. Nubia, at times under control by the Egyptian crown, has been perceived as the foreign country per se, a country of a type of magic which was different from the Egyptian one but also respected as something exotic and powerful – a classical strategy of displaying otherness.37 This rhetoric device is also used for displaying Asiatic magic – remember the episode with the ecstatic in Byblos – but not as pronounced as in the examples with Nubian magical practices as presented here. It can also be seen in a passage in the Story of Sinuhe where the protagonist tries to explain his emotional situation during his flight from Egypt many years before. After 33
QUACK, Einführung [1st edn], 55–7. Preserved on Ostrakon Chicago OIC inv. 12074 + Ostrakon IFAO inv. 2188. 35 The sources are dated palaeographically to the 19th–20th Dynasty. Other documents connected with Menena and Pay-iry/Mery-Sakhmet prove both have lived under the kings Ramses III and IV; see the comment of P. DILS, TLA, ad loc.; ČERNÝ, Blood Brotherhood, 162–3 and MOERS, Fingierte Welten, 233, n. 328, about the later fictualization of the protagonists. 36 oQw Hr snf=k; translation from the TLA; see GUGLIELMI, ‘Lehre’, and her n. l on p. 156 for a possible mocking of the protagonists; ČERNÝ, Blood Brotherhood, 161–2. MOERS, Fingierte Welten, 232–45 comments widely on the teaching but not on the blood brotherhood itself; MOERS, ‘Unter den Sohlen Pharaos’, 152–3. 37 S.T. SMITH, Wretched Kush, 19–29; O’CONNOR, Egypt’s Views, 167–9. 34
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several adventures and a successful career in the Levant,38 Sinuhe is offered a burial at home by the Pharaoh and is now in need of explaining why he ran away: ‘It was like in a dream, as if a man from the Delta sees himself in Elephantine, a man from the marshes in the land of the Nubians!’ 39 The seemingly unknown agent of Sinuhe’s flight is certainly a divine force. After the turmoil of the death of the old Pharaoh and in the context of blame-shifting, the flight seemed to him a divine plan as mentioned above. Characteristic of this passage is the comparison to a dream. This status between sleeping and being awake is significant for the Egyptians: there was a complex science of dream interpretation and incubation, that is induced sleep, even before the GraecoRoman Period, often in combination with other divinatory practices.40 When Sinuhe refers to this dreamlike status, he also refers to a certain state of mind or the unknown. He compares his feelings to those of a man from the North being in the South (t# stj, which is Nubia or the Southern area of Egypt having Nubian contacts), as an estranged individual being in his personal terra incognita. Behind this, there is of course a cultural model of Nubia as a ‘Gegenbild’, as unknown territory filled with negative imagery for Egyptians – a classical form of an ‘othering’ strategy.41 As a border town, Elephantine served as entry to this otherness and alterity.42 In the case of Sinuhe, we can ultimately assume that Upper Retjenu (Canaan) was never considered by him as ‘home’.43 The Story of Bes, an unpublished story about a man from the cycle of the InarosPetubastis-Stories, features several cult practices and is set mainly in Nubia. 44 This Demotic narrative from the second century CE is preserved in circa 200 papyrus fragments in Copenhagen as well as in other collections. At the beginning of the preserved text, Bes and his friend Haryothes swear an oath before the goddess Isis to be best friends forever. Haryothes plans a wedding with his girlfriend Tasis, but Bes falls in love with her and kills Haryothes during a war. Before the burial, Bes approaches Tasis in order to have sex with her in the tomb, but Tasis finds a way to kill herself down in the burial pit. In response, the goddess Isis appears and curses Bes with leprosy, leading him to flee to Nubia and hide himself in the woods while his servant looks
38
LOPRIENO, Topos, 41–59 commenting e.g. on Sinuhe’s acculturation in Retjenu and on the person of the ruler Amunnenshi. 39 |w mj [225] sSm-rs.wt mj m## sw |dH.y m [226] #bw z n H#.t m t#-ztj (P. Berlin P. 3022 and fragment P. Amherst m–q (B), 224–6). Four versions of this passage are attested; others: MR, P. Berlin P. 10499 (from Thebes-West), 65–6; O. Ashmolean Museum inv. 1945.40, 24–5; O. Ashmolean Museum inv. 1945.40, vs., 32. See also PARKINSON, Sinuhe’s Dreaming(s), 154, 156–67; PÉTIGNY, From Sacred to Law, 7–8. 40 See RENBERG, Where Dreams May Come and SZPAKOWSKA, Behind Closed Eyes, 4–13. 41 On Nubia as ‘Gegenbild’, see SÉRIDA, Cultural Identity, 32–3; RITNER, Mechanics, 140–41; 151–73 commenting on magical texts from Mirgissa and on magic against the emperor Augustus. On the bust of the latter used in malevolent magic in Nubia, see now OPPER, Meroë Head. 42 RAUE, Geschichte von Elephantine; S.T. SMITH, Wretched Kush, 4–9; TÖRÖK, Between Two Worlds, 12–15. 43 PARKINSON, Poetry, 159; O’CONNOR, Egypt’s Views, 171–2; contra, see EL-HAWARY, Sinuhe, 20–21. 44 HOFFMANN/QUACK, Anthologie, 55–9.
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for a remedy against his disease.45 Meanwhile, the Nubian king has received notice of Bes’s presence in his country and the two meet, with Bes succeeding in inciting the king’s hatred against Egypt, and thus against the Pharaoh Inaros. After this, Inaros arrives in Nubia – officially to collect taxes but in fact to take revenge for the deaths of Haryothes and Tasis, as he seems to have received notification of Bes’s whereabouts. The Nubian king receives Inaros in a friendly manner but attacks him at night after a festival. While the papyrus fragment with the final passages breaks off at this point, the story probably continued with Inaros overthrowing the Nubians. What is remarkable here? Again, we can see the pejorative connotations of an ethnicity: Nubians are easy to persuade, dishonest and attack their ‘guests’ even after a religious festival – which must have been considered a sacrilege! – and, moreover, they do this shamefully at night when decent people normally do not fight.46 Nubia is also the place to which the murderer Bes escaped, where he was sure to hide himself and avoid being pursued for his crime. It is interesting with regard to magical practices for regenerative healing that it is in Nubia that his servant has to look for a cure against his leprosy: this is evidence of Nubia being viewed as a country of exotic and different, but nevertheless powerful, un-Egyptian magic. The story probably featuring the most numerous Nubian elements is the Second Setna novel. In this Demotic story best attested on a lengthy papyrus from the time of Emperor Claudius, a Nubian magician is the main protagonist besides Setna Khaemwaset and his son Siosiris. Setna is historically well-attested as the eldest son (c. 1277–1224) of the New Kingdom Pharaoh Ramses II.47 First, we hear about Siosiris being a true ‘wunderkind’ and learning extremely fast. One day, a Nubian magician (#tê n |gS)48 arrives at the Pharaonic court and opens up a competition to read a story on a sealed papyrus scroll. If no Egyptian magician could perform the task, the Nubian would bring the shame (DlH)49 of Egypt to Nubia. Setna is at first in despair, but his son Siosiris could read the scroll without breaking the seal. The text is a story about the Nubian sorcerer Horus-son-of-the-Nubian-woman fighting against the Egyptian 45
See WESTENDORF, Lepra. HOFFMANN/QUACK, Anthologie, 55–6. Usually, a just fight ends at night and starts again the other day after the sun comes up. See e.g. the story of the Fight for the Prebend of Amun, 16, 6–11. 47 See HOFFMANN/QUACK, Anthologie, 118–52. Not considered here is the fragmentary Aramaic novel linked to the Second Setna story; see PORTEN, Prophecy. 48 The meaning of the word #tê is problematic. It has been translated as ‘shaman’ or ‘(Nubian) wizard’ (G. VITTMANN, in TLA, s.v. #tê; the evidence in Setna II are the only attestations in the database), maybe following RITNER, in SIMPSON (ed.), Literature, 476–7, n. 12 translating ‘shaman’. ERICHSEN, Demotisches Glossar, offers ‘sovereign’ (p. 13 s.v. #tj with reference to p. 46 s.v. |tj but within the story we clearly are not dealing with an aristocratic but a magical function. CDD, letter #, s.v. #ßy ‘magician, priest’ has ‘Nubian magician’ as well (corrected from a former version translating the word with ‘rebel’). The discussion is summarised by ZIBELIUS-CHEN, ‘Nubisches’ Sprachmaterial, 285 s.v. #tê and 9–11 s.v. ##t# who is following HOFMANN, Kuschitische Horus, 209–10 explaining the word as derived from the meroitic term ‘at’ or its genitive version ‘ant’ for a priestly title – and the opponent of the Egyptian Hr-tp. Thus, we can assume the ‘shaman’ or ‘wizard’ was simply a priest with magical capacities like its Egyptian counterpart. 49 Or ‘despise’, see also the Fight for the Armor of Inaros, 12, 22. On this passage, see now QUACK, Drohung. 46
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sorcerer Horus-son-of-Paneshe, which had happened 1500 years before. In the course of the story it becomes clear that the Nubian magician is none other than Horus-sonof-the-Nubian-woman, and that the ‘wunderkind’ Siosiris is the reincarnation of Horus-son-of-Paneshe, who has come back from the Netherworld to prevent the Nubian and his mother from employing evil magic against Egypt and the Pharaoh. Both opponents have abilities different from those of average people and can rise from the dead and perform extraordinary spells. They can also create servants from wax,50 animate them and send them away to serve their master’s purposes. But besides their marvelous abilities, both wizards doubt occasionally whether they can manage to overthrow the other. The Egyptian magician curses and insults his opponent, e.g. as gum eater, Nubian enemy, liar and as eating dirt/muck (?) (nb oy r-x |gS).51 Remarkably, the Nubian does not reply to this with a similar form of retaliation. Furthermore, the Egyptian is able to make use of protective amulets and visits the god Thoth in Hermopolis Magna to bring him offerings, to pray and to obtain his help in a dream. As he performs incubation in the temple, Thoth tells him where to find a Book of Thoth, which contains powerful spells.52 The Nubian wizard, however, sets up a magical sign with his mother that will appear to her in case he should be in trouble.53 In the story-within-a-story, i.e. the one written on the sealed scroll, we also hear about three other Nubian magicians who praise themselves for being able to punish the Egyptians. This attracts the interest of the Nubian king, the qore, resting in a nearby forest. They talk in an unidentified location54 – remarkably, not in a temple environment, as would be expected for magical professionals – about how they could put Egypt in complete darkness for three days, bring the Egyptian Pharaoh to Nubia at night, lash him 500 times in front of the qore and send him back in six hours, as well as about how they could curse the soil of Egypt to be infertile for three years. This communication is overheard by the qore, whose interest lies especially on the second possibility. As part of this plot, the spell is cast several times by Horus-son-of-theNubian-woman. After Horus-son-of-Paneshe finds out about this, he inflicts the same on the qore. A peculiar fact in this regard is that the Nubian sorcerers throw (Hwy) their spells up to Egypt while the Egyptian lets his spells (H|Q.w) fly (fy) under the clouds to Nubia. In a final showdown set once more in the time of Siosiris and his father Setna, both magicians fight against each other in the great throne hall of the Egyptian king. While 50
There are several attestations of that in Egyptian narratives; some examples are discussed in SÉRIDA, Cultural Identity, 32–3. 51 Similar insults against Nubians, but not limited to them, can be found in the story of the Fight for the Prebend of Amun. See POPE, ‘Porridge-and-Pot’, 486–9. MOERS, ‘Unter den Sohlen Pharaos’, 134, calls such mockery ‘Entpersonifizierung’ of the stranger, resulting from unfamiliarity with foreign customs. 52 Setna II, 5, 5–15. 53 Setna II, 6, 3–5; see also below. 54 The king rests in the bushes (Stwê.w n hwr) while the magicians are in the o.wy n Xfß, the ‘house of the enemy’, an unclear location which QUACK interprets as a corrupted term mocking the Egyptian institution of the ‘house of life’ (pr onX) where magicians usually gather. See QUACK, Korrekturvorschläge, 71, n. 62.
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Horus-son-of-the-Nubian-woman incites fire, Siosiris is able to extinguish it with a heavy Upper Egyptian rain. As a second action, the Nubian creates a thick fog, but Siosiris likewise has no difficulties in dissolving the fog. The third step of the Nubian is the creation of a large vault over the Pharaoh, separating him from everyone else. But Siosiris saves the day by hexing the vault on a barque and causing it to sail away from the throne hall. At this point, it becomes obvious to Horus-son-of-the-Nubianwoman that he can not overthrow his Egyptian opponent. Therefore, he turns invisible and changes his shape into that of an evil bird. While Siosiris is undoing the invisibility spell of Horus-son-of-the-Nubian-woman, he also turns him on his back and puts him under the control of a fowler with a sharp knife behind him. At the same time, the mother of the Nubian wizard perceives the signs which her son had set up for her: the water became blood, the food got the colour of (raw) meat and the sky turned blood red.55 Immediately, she transforms into a goose and flies to Egypt without managing to help the wizard. Instead, Siosiris is able to put her in trouble as well. Finally, the reincarnation of Horus-son-of-Paneshe kills Horus-son-of-the-Nubian-woman in a ring of fire. This second defeat represents his total destruction. The first one happened 1500 years before: on that occasion, Horus-son-of-the-Nubian-woman had to take an oath not to come back to Egypt, which apparently he did not keep. Besides the cult practices mentioned in this short summary, there are a lot more to be noted in the Second Setna novel, such as burial customs, religious festivals, dream interpretation and access to the Underworld. The work features a number of gods: in addition to Ptah, Amun-the-bull-of-Meroë as god of the Nubians, 56 Osiris, Isis, the local Ptah, Re(-Harakhti) and Atum as gods of the Egyptians are mentioned, as well as unspecified gods speaking in dreams. The scene in the Underworld of the hypostasis (i.e., the weighing of the heart to determine crimes during the lifetime of the deceased, allowing access to a life after death), with all gods and the existence of the dead there, is described in some detail. The human protagonists bear theophoric names consisting of Horus and Osiris. There is a strong connotation of divine justice in this story, especially when Siosiris and his father Setna visit the Underworld and are able to see what happens to people who led a just or unjust life. It is in this scene that it becomes obvious that Siosiris exists beyond human life – he can enter and exit the Underworld at his will and is able to move through time, Earth and Underworld, and to possess different bodies, without being subjugated by Fate. Nevertheless, even a great magician like him is sometimes in doubt regarding whether his abilities in performing magic and other cult practices are strong enough. Therefore, he pleaded to Thoth for help. The same can be said of his father Setna and of the Nubian sorcerer, who are also conscious of their limited powers and abilities in several situations. Generally speaking, this novel is quite detailed when it comes to the numerous cult practices presented in the narration. They play an important role within the plot. Unfortunately, in some cases the actual performance is hidden from the reader. Just one example will suffice here. In the story on the sealed scroll, Horus-son-of-the-Nubian55
Setna II, 6, 24–5: n# mw |w=w |r |wn n snf |.|r-Hr=t n# xr#.w nty |.|r-Hr=t |w=w |r |wn |wf t# p.t |w-|w=s |r |wn n snf. 56 THISSEN, Nubien, 369–72.
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woman tries to save the qore from being beaten up at night in Egypt. In this part of the story, we can only read ‘he made his magic. He filled it for the qore – life, protection, health – to protect him from the magic of Horus son of Paneshe’.57 This does definitely leave room for speculation, as well as the setting of the magical sign between mother and son in order to recognise when the son is in grave danger. Could we think of a form of a vow associated with this cult practice?58 The Second Setna novel in particular is proof of a different treatment of Nubian than of Asiatic opponents. This ethnicity, being e.g. the kingdoms of Kush, Napata or Meroë, was an enemy closer to Egyptian territory and therefore more present in daily life, political agenda (and propaganda) and cultural memory. Maybe this could partly explain why the Egyptian treatment of Nubian magicians seems more rude and severe than the treatment of their Asiatic counterparts. But, as always, this judgment might be biased due to the limited amount of literary sources and their distribution throughout several centuries and genres. As for parallels to competitions between wizards, we have to go back to the ancient Near East. The unpublished Demotic narrative The Story of King Djoser and Imhotep is a relevant source. Within the course of the action, an Egyptian priest fights against an Assyrian sorceress. Both are equated with the Egyptian divine couple of Geb and Nut. Again, the foreigners are incorporated into the Egyptian belief system in order to value them as honourable opponents.59 Yet even another, much older story from the ancient Near East can be compared to the competition of the wizards in the Second Setna novel and the The Story of King Djoser and Imhotep – the Sumerian epic tale Enmerkar and the Lord of Aratta from the Ur III Period (c. twenty-first/twentieth century BCE) which survives in several copies.60 Aratta is a presumably mythic town – its exact location remains a debate. In this narrative, the lords of Aratta and of Uruk and Kulaba fight against each other through messengers who might bestow the best offering on the goddess Inanna. To this story, there is a sequel called Enmerkar and the Ensuhgir-ana/Ensukeshdanna with four episodes about the lord of Aratta fighting Enmerkar, the Lord of Uruk and Kulaba, and against Gilgamesh’s father Lugalbanda. Ensuhgir-ana of Aratta is so bold as to challenge Enmerkar of Uruk to be the rightful bridegroom of the goddess Inanna. He appoints the magician Ur-ginuna who stops the production of milk in Uruk by sabotage. As a reaction, a wise woman from Uruk named Sagburru shows up and battles with the wizard from Aratta. Both transform
57
Setna II, 5, 30–31: |r=f n#y=f HyQ.w mH=f s(t) r p# kwr onX-wD#-snb r nXt.ß=f r n# HyQ.w n Or s# p#-nSê. 58 More examples of such signs can be found in the Tale of the Two Brothers 8, 5–6 and 12, 9–13, 2 and the Story of Meryre on Papyrus Vandier 3, 12–13. See WETTENGEL, Erzählung, 110–11; 145–6 and QUACK, Review of WETTENGEL, 201. 59 See RYHOLT, Assyrian Invasion, 493–4 and 500–502 for preliminary remarks and the mention in SÉRIDA, Cultural Identity, 33; 37–9. The most recent treatment is RYHOLT, Life of Imhotep. One also thinks of motifs from the Exodus story from the Old Testament; see GÖRG, Sogenannte Exodus. 60 KRAMER, Enmerkar; see also the texts in The Electronic Text Corpus of Sumerian Literature, Oxford University, http://etcsl.orinst.ox.ac.uk/ (last accessed 8 December 2015) and BLACK/CUNNINGHAM/ROBSON/ZÓLYOMI, Literature, 3–11.
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into animals chasing each other. Sagburru wins this competition and kills the magician from Aratta by drowning him in the river. Obviously, the motif of magicians in a competition is attested not only in Egyptian literature, but can be traced also in other cultures. Parallels between Siosiris and Sagburru are evident: both represent the politically stronger and wealthier communities, and both overthrow and kill their opponents by wiser reactions to the initial provocations from Nubia and Aratta, respectively. The desperate enemies wanted to harm their mightier opponents from Egypt and Uruk by cutting them off from supplies but face destruction instead. And, last but not least: the battles involve stunning examples of transformative magic.
2. Tentative conclusions In general – and this comes as no surprise – Egyptians considered themselves as superior to other peoples and countries.61 In the literary texts mentioning foreign cult practice, the Nubians and their magic in particular are termed as the enemies per se.62 Another group connected with negative connotations is the Asiatics. The reasons underlying this stigmatisation might in both cases be rooted in historical events.63 Furthermore, it is also remarkable that when searching for several other nonEgyptian peoples, ethnicities, languages and cultures no attestations are found. The literary texts contain no explicit mentions of Palestinian, Canaanite, Samarian, Israelite, Jewish, Hebrew, Aramaic, Hurrian, Hittite, Mesopotamian, Akkadian, Sumerian, Semitic, Cypriote, Sudanese, Ethiopian, Libyan, Arabic, Greek and Latin elements. The relevant passages presented here were detected basically in the narrative literature. However, two references concerning foreign countries can be found in discourses with prophecies told ex-eventu. In Ipuwer 3, 12–13, foreign people are supposed to perceive the Egyptian king in a positive way, which is unexpected: What is the Treasury for, without its revenues – for the heart of the king is happy (only) when Truth comes to him, and then every foreign land [says]: ‘He is our water, he is our (good) fortune!’64
It would have been more probable to expect fear instead of happiness. But these are evidently characterisations of a world order turned upside down, as it is the passage in Neferti, l. 47: ‘I shall show you a nobleman with nothing, a foreigner prosperous’.65 61
See S.T. SMITH, Wretched Kush, 167–87 for creating this ‘otherness’ as part of the Egyptian royal ideology; MOERS, ‘Unter den Sohlen Pharaos’, 108. 62 As opposed to the overall perception of Nubians in the PGM as pointed out by SVENJA NAGEL in the discussion. There, Nubians are featured with a more positive view – maybe due to the different intention since magical texts tend to present their usefulness even if they include Nubian ingredients, methods and incantations. 63 E.g. the narratives from the Inaros cycle. The hero Inaros lived presumably in the seventh century BCE when Assyrian, Nubian, Egyptian and more forces competed for Egypt. See QUACK, Inaros. 64 Translation by R. ENMARCH, TLA: |w pr-HD r-m.w m-Xm.t b#k.w=f nfr |s |b n(.j) nsw |wj n=f m#o.t Xr |s [3, 13] [Dd]? X#s.t nb(.t) mw=n pw w#D=n pw. On the unclear meaning of w#D, see QUACK, New Bilingual Fragment, 161, and n. 38; ENMARCH, World Upturned, 92.
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Cultural plurality in the form of foreigners and foreign cult practices such as magic were inserted several times into Egyptian literary texts over the centuries. This can be explained on the one hand by certain historical realities of the times when the literature was created or by the period in which the narrations were set. Basically, the presentation and treatment of foreigners is a constructed reality making extensive use of the Egyptian royal ideology, according to which the Pharaoh always wins and his opponents shudder in fear just at the thought of him. The main enemies are the Asiatics and the Nubians, who are treated even more harshly and are characterised as more exotic and complex. Their presentation as the ‘other’ is a literary device to increase the value of the fiction in order to make the enemy more powerful – a worthy opponent and interesting ‘bad guy’. Foreigners and their societies served not only as adversaries, but as ‘Gegenbild’ to the Egyptian civilisation which presented itself as superior.66 The designation of what is foreign can be a literary construction as well: maybe some demons might be explicitly constructed as foreigners in order to be able to execrate them.67 This contribution offered a few case studies interpreted in detail. Eventually, a study of motifs such as wizards in combat in a cross-cultural perspective with more published sources might shed more light on the transmission and influence of contents.
65 Translation by TOBIN, in SIMPSON (ed.), Literature, 218. See also MOERS, ‘Unter den Sohlen Pharaos’, 142 who treats the passages from the discursive texts as a form of alterity. I tend to disagree because they represent a world upside down. 66 See e.g. NÜNNING/RUPP/AHN (eds.), Ritual. I owe this reference to SARAH ILES JOHNSTON. 67 See MORENZ, (Magische) Sprache, 198–9.
Magic and Mystery at Selinus: Another Look at the Getty Hexameters WILLIAM D. FURLEY 1. Introduction What have we done this year to ward off evil in our own lives? Most of us will have kept up multiple insurance policies, foremost among them health insurance in case we fall ill, house insurance lest lightning or flooding wreck our homes, travel insurance lest disaster strikes while we are abroad, and a number of others. A fair number of us will be taking some prophylactic medication, such as anti-hypertension drugs, statins or aspirin, as medical opinion has it that these reduce the risk of heart attack, diabetes, dementia etc. When choosing our lunch we are likely to consider the relation between what is on our plate and its possible adverse or positive effects on our long term health. Many of these measures approach the status of magical rites, as they are built on faith in expert opinion, the belief that scientists must know what they are talking about, even if we certainly do not. This situation is closely analogous to ancient Greek apotropaic rites, whether they fall into our categories of religious rites or magical practices. The seer, μάντις, was responsible for several branches of apotropaic special knowledge: augury in its various forms, extispicy (the examination of animal livers), divination by celestial phenomena, body twitches (‘palmomancy’), fire (‘empyra’) etc. Oracles dispensed privileged knowledge to private and public inquirers, all designed either to ward off future ills or to provide remedies for existing crises. Greek literature from Homer to the historians is full of incidents in which individuals consult oracles and seers in the hope of averting danger. The Greek magical papyri show us the kind of advice and remedies which magicians in Roman Egypt offered to ὁ δεῖνα, some client or other, when consulted about a personal problem. The important point here is that, amid uncertainty about the future, we humans turn to a source of authority which, by general consent, offers means to shore up our fragility against ‘a sea of troubles’.1 The composition in rough Homeric hexameters known as the Getty hexameters (because of where it is kept in the J.F. Getty Villa in Malibu, California), falls into the
1
In these introductory words I avoid issues of scientific effectiveness in the comparison of ancient with modern; in a way ancient divination and apotropaic ritual was just as ‘empirical’ as modern medicine: if one thing didn’t work, one tried another; if one expert gave ineffective advice, one went to another. Some recent general treatments are: ANNUS (ed.), Divination; JOHNSTON/STRUCK (eds.), Mantikê; JOHNSTON, Greek Divination; FLOWER, Seer.
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class of apotropaic incantations against evil.2 Its interest and considerable importance lies in the fact that it is a sizeable text (some fifty lines long), largely legible, of early date (fifth century BCE),3 containing some very interesting formulations of apotropaic magic. It was written on thin lead sheeting (called ‘tin’ in the inscription), was then folded up and laid to rest in a ‘stone building’ (3 λᾶος ἐν οἴκωι).4 Its purpose is unequivocally stated in the opening lines: ‘who writes these letters in tin and places them in a house of stone will be protected against all the dangers found on land or sea’. A divinity called Paieon is addressed four times, who is said to provide ἀλέξιμα φάρμακα for all eventualities: ‘apotropaic remedies’ is a literal translation of this phrase. The central section of the text concerns remedies when Death (Κήρ is BURKERT’s supplement) draws near in wartime, peace, at sea, threatening humans and livestock and human enterprise generally. This section concludes with the observation: ‘Paieon, you are remedy-bringing in everything, and good’. The final section contains further magical formulae and concludes that ‘no one will be able to harm [you], even if he comes with much magic’. The text has been known since 1981 when it was given to the Getty Museum as one among five lead tablets, one almost certainly coming from Selinus in Sicily, and three other curse tablets probably also of Selinuntine origin. The text received its editio princeps in 2011 by DAVID JORDAN and ROY KOTANSKY (henceforth JK) in Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik; in 2013 there followed the volume of conference papers edited by CHRISTOPHER FARAONE and DIRK OBBINK (FO), in which contributions to a conference convened in Malibu in 2012 were published.5 The volume comes with a Greek text at the beginning, but without apparatus, and with a contribution by RICHARD JANKO in which he tries to reconstruct the archetype of the text in lead and provides valuable commentary on dialectical questions.6 He also promises a full text and critical apparatus to appear from Oxford in 2014, but inquiries about this have so far gone unanswered. The first editors and the contributors to the conference volume concur in the opinion that the text dates to the later fifth century BCE, and probably comes from Selinus.7 That much seems to be agreed. Beyond that there is a considerable degree of disagreement as to the status and the significance of the text. The first editors confidently, 2 First publication: JORDAN/KOTANSKY, Ritual Hexameters. In this both JORDAN and KOTANSKY promise independent full treatments of this important text, which we still await. For a text with some new readings and supplements see the end of this chapter. 3 Edd. pr. assign the text to approximately 425–375 BCE. 4 W. BURKERT’s proposed emendation of λαοϲ in the inscription to ἁλοῖ (3rd person indicative or subjunctive of ἡλόω, ‘nail’) can be safely rejected as it results in an ugly hiatus with preceding κεκολαμμένα; moreover, the tablet was not nailed anyway (no nail hole) and anyway one does not nail γράμματα (which is the object of the sentence) but the tablet on which they stand: BURKERT, Genagelter Zauber. 5 FARAONE/OBBINK (eds.), Getty Hexameters. 6 JANKO, Hexametric Incantations. 7 A number of scholars, including edd. pr., point to the sack of Selinus by Hannibal in 409, suggesting that the tablet probably antedates this event; however, GORDON, Review of FARAONE/OBBINK (eds.) says that Selinus was not ‘destroyed’ then, but a community continued there, so Hannibal’s conquering of the town is not necessarily terminus ante quem for the tablet.
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but without explanation, assert that the text contains ‘traditional legomena of a rite of initiation into the worship of Demeter and Kore’.8 DIRK OBBINK in FO similarly maintains that the text is the kind of poetry which is likely to have been produced in the context of mystery cults. Without concrete evidence he points in the direction of both Eleusinian and Dionysiac mysteries as context.9 Others have picked up the repeated apostrophe of Paieon; RUTHERFORD in particular in FO has argued that the text is a kind of embryonic paean, but in hexameters. As such he thinks rather in the direction of Apolline ritual poetry, which later, of course, became typified by the ἰὴ Παιάν epiphthegma.10 In a second chapter of FO, FARAONE considers the possibility that the text is, in fact, a kind of compendium of magical formulae and recipes, assembled in the way that the magical papyri similarly consist of collections of recipes and spells.11 Whilst the majority of contributions to FO only consider Hellenic contexts, SARAH ILES JOHNSTON has investigated the possibility that the central myth of the text, involving a mystic goat with an unending flow of milk, might derive from Egyptian historiolae, with affinities in particular to the goddess Hathor.12 How to make progress in this relatively uncharted terrain? Perhaps I might start by saying some of the things which the text is not. First, it is not an amulet offering protection to an individual. As we will see, the speaker’s addressees are a community of people with an interest in civic affairs – warfare, seafaring, manufacturing. They are to be protected from real tangible dangers – anything the sea or land may throw at them, as well as Death itself. The tablet is to be hidden in a ‘house of stone’ – perhaps pointing to a significant building such as a temple, rather than to a private house. Second, the text deviates significantly from a conventional hymn in structure and content. There is no opening epiklesis of a god or gods in combination with epithets and relative predication; true, there are repeated appeals to a god called Paieon, who is said to provide all possible remedies. But these occur more in the nature of a refrain than in sustained invocation at the beginning. Nor is there a prayer at the end, only the rather bald statement that no one will be able to destroy the power of the spell recorded in lead. Most significantly there is no sustained praise of a divinity in the form of myth or aretalogy; true, there is the intriguing narrative of the female goat in the first section (to which we will return), but this does not relate to Paieon’s power, but is rather the ‘immortal words’ which he himself speaks. At one point the speaker (or hierophant) may refer to his text as a hymnos, possibly one sung (line 24), but as a whole the composition is unlike anything we know of Greek hymns. It is, for example, quite different to the hymns found dispersed through the magical papyri, which contain pure invocation and praise of certain deities.13 In the first line the hierophant refers to his perfor8
JK, 54. OBBINK, Poetry. 10 RUTHERFORD, Immortal Words. 11 FARAONE, Magical Verses. His main point of comparison is with the Phalasarna text (SEG 42.818, third century BCE?), for which see FARAONE/OBBINK (eds.), Getty Hexameters, 185–7. 12 JOHNSTON, Myth. GORDON, Review of FARAONE/OBBINK (eds.), gives further summaries of the interpretations given, with some critical remarks. 13 On these see now BORTOLANI, Magical Hymns, whose emphasis is on the nature of divinity in these compositions, whether Greek or Egyptian. 9
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mance as ἐπαείδω, incant, rather than ἀείδω, the normal verb for hymn singing.14 Perhaps the best description of the text, then, is as a sustained phylakterion or protective spell, such as were first collected by HEIM (Incantamenta) in 1892.15 In particular, we must consider the affinity of the present text with other ‘lamella’-texts found in considerable numbers in Sicily and other parts of Greece from this period: these include other inscribed texts with epōdai and the so-called Orphic-Bacchic lamellae with their hexameters for the afterlife.16 What can we reconstruct about speakers and recipients from the text itself? In the first line an ‘I’ announces that he is in a position to recite effective and – if my supplements are close to the mark – salutary words to a congregation of initiates, μύσταις. Of course, much hangs on this last word, which is only a conjecture.17 Then the speaker promises that ‘whosoever write these letters on tin’ will be protected from anything land or sea can produce. FARAONE in FO has commented on the boasts about ritual efficacy in the text.18 These lines give instructions, as it were, for producing the very text now held in the Getty Museum. Then comes the first appeal to Paieon, who is said to know efficacious remedies for everything and to have uttered an hieros logos. Thus we have a double reenforcement of the authority of the written words.19 First a hierophant, if we may call him that, utters ‘beneficial and effective words’, then he calls on the authority of Paieon for the story he is about to tell. The situation is picked up in the second section of the text, following the mythical narration (to which we will return). In this there is a 2nd person address to Paieon to listen (κατάκουε), probably to the present beseechment (γλυκὺν ὕμνον, last word a supplement).20 Then either the ‘I’ or ‘You’ (ἄνωγα or ἄνωγας at line end)21 is said to have instructed mortals to speak a certain formula when death or danger (κήρ, supplemented) draws near, whether in wartime or at sea, to humans, animals and human handicrafts (τέχναισιν βροτείαις); the formula should be spoken both by night and day. Conjecturally, I reconstruct the formula (line 30) as ‘φθόγγο]ν ἔχων hὅσιον {σιον} στόματος θυ[έεσσι μετῆλθον.’] ‘Having pure words in my mouth I have participated in the sacrificial rites.’22
14
Cf. Eur. IA 1211 εἰ μὲν τὸν Ὀρφέως εἶχον, ὦ πάτερ, λόγον, πείθειν ἐπάιδουσ’, ‘if only, father, I could persuade by incanting the word of Orpheus’. 15 HEIM, Incantamenta. Further examples: KOTANSKY, Incantations; FARAONE, Hexametrical Incantations. Phylactery is JOHNSTON’s term at JOHNSTON, Myth, 129; it comes from Greek phylakterion, protective charm. 16 After ZUNTZ, Persephone, see more recently GRAF/JOHNSTON, Ritual Texts; TZIFOPOULOS, Paradise Earned; BREMMER, Divinities; EDMONDS III (ed.), ‘Orphic’ Gold Tablets. 17 See end of chapter for text and commentary. 18 FARAONE, Spoken and Written Boasts. 19 Cf. JOHNSTON, Myth, 128. 20 Already in FO and JANKO, Hexametric Incantations; on the tablet one only sees a rough breathing before putative upsilon. 21 Cf. RUTHERFORD, Immortal Words, 159. 22 JANKO, Hexametric Incantations, 42 for comparison: χρησμὸ]ν ἔχων ὅσιον στόματος θυ[ρέτροισιν ἐν αὐτοῖς], ‘keeping holy your [oracle in] the doors of your mouth’. The metaphor of στόματος θυρέτροισιν seems, to my mind, a little fanciful for this workaday text.
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This action, it is said, is better for the city (πόλει), and that is the best part of government (31).23 This second section, then, is distinctly civic. We hear of a congregation of people and their flocks threatened by danger; of a city and its government. The unpolluted participation in some rites is said to ensure the safety of the community. Here we are a long way from private magic with its individual concerns. The target audience is clearly some community. If μύσταις is right in the first line, it is a community of initiates, with civic responsibility. The remainder of this side of the lamella contains magical formulae partially overlapping those found on other texts with magical incantations from e.g. Himera, Epizephyrian Lokroi and Phalasarna in Crete.24 The third column, written on the reverse side of the tablet, is only partially legible, but we can make out an admonition to remember (μνῆσαι) certain deities: a new supplement shows Herakles using his bow against ill-doers, and we hear of Hekatos, who must be Apollo, possibly Artemis, and another mention of Herakles’ arrows which slew the Lernaean Hydra. The last line of the text says that no one will be able to work evil against the spell, even if they come equipped with much magic. The last section, then, contains an appeal to a number of protective deities who help to ward off evil. Now we return to the mysterious narrative of the she-goat with her unending supply of milk. If we could identify a context for the goat itself and the other deities mentioned in the narrative, we would be better placed to understand the origin and nature of the whole text. In the opening lines Amphitrite is mentioned, but it seems only by metonymy, meaning the sea. In the course of the narrative, however, which constitutes the ἀθάνατα ἔπεα of Paieon, several deities are mentioned. The she-goat is said to be led out of Persephone’s Garden by a Voice (reading ὄσσα, divine voice, as subject of the sentence);25 she is described as a ‘four-legged child (reading παῖδ᾿), holy companion of Demeter’, her udder heavy with an ‘unending supply of nourishing milk’. Then Einodia Hekate enters, probably in the nominative, calling out with a ‘barbaric voice’ and leading another deity (θεὰ θεῶι ἡγεμονεύει).26 She, in turn, announces divine will (θεόφραστα) in connection with a daimon said to be ἀγλα[ο‐ something, ἀγλαοκάρπου perhaps, as JK suggest. These names and descriptions were enough to point the first editors in the direction of mysteries of Demeter and Kore, the deities of the Eleusinian Mysteries, particularly as Hekate is important in the Homeric Hymn to Demeter. But 23 For the construction τὰ γὰρ κτλ. cf. Hom. Il. 19.161 τὸ γὰρ μένος ἐστὶ καὶ ἀλκή, ‘for that (eating) is (the source of) strength and courage’. 24 SEG 50.1001, 49.1360 and 42.818 respectively; see JORDAN/KOTANSKY, Ritual Hexameters, 54 n. 3, for full references. JANKO, Hexametric Incantations, 32 makes the point that the geographical distribution of these texts (as well as the Orphic-Bacchic lamellae) corresponds with the main trade route East-West in the Mediterranean then; i.e. knowledge of religious rites travelled with traders. 25 Cf. Hes. Th. 9–10 (the Helikonian Muses) κεκαλυμμέναι ἠέρι πολλῆι, / ἐννύχιαι στεῖχον περικαλλέα ὄσσαν ἱεῖσαι, ‘veiled in thick mist, they appeared by night, emitting a wonderfully sweet voice’. Note the voice in Leonidas’ epigram (AP 9.99) which comes from the ground (ἔπος ἐκ γαίης) and addresses the goat eating the vine-stock, saying it will still produce enough wine for the libation at the goat’s sacrifice. For further discussion of this textual point see appendix to this chapter. 26 For Hekate’s ‘barbaric voice’ cf. PGM IV 2531: δεινὴν ἐξ ἀτόνων πέμπεις ὀφεῖαν ἰωήν, φρικτὸν ἀναυδήσασα θεὰ τρισσοῖς στομάτεσσι, ‘you emit a dire, draconian voice of tuneless character, goddess uttering a terrifying sound through triple mouths’.
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the goat with its unending stream of milk was unaccounted for. SARAH JOHNSTON, who has written the first detailed study of this story, which she identifies as an historiola, has sought to connect the gist of the story with Egyptian Isis/Hathor and the milk of a gazelle, which plays a role there. Without ruling out possible intercultural links here, I think we should first scour the Greek record.27 The only goat in Greek mythology which remotely fits the bill is, as at least two contributors to FO suggest, Amalthea, the Cretan nanny-goat who suckles baby Zeus when he is hidden away from Kronos and nurtured in the Diktaian Cave, surrounded by armed Kouretes.28 But there is no indication in the Getty hexameters that the infant Zeus is intended here; above all, the Underworld scenography tells against this identification. We hear first of the ‘shadowy mountains in a dark-lit place’, then of Persephone’s Garden, which reminds one of the Groves of Persephone in the gold lamellae, clearly situated in the Underworld.29 Then Hekate, an Underworld deity, appears out of her halls (reading μεγάρων). All these pointers indicate without a shadow of doubt that the scene is infernal. This does not suit Zeus’s birth story, unless we wish to identify the Diktaian Cave with the Underworld. Nor can it be said that Amalthea is normally a ‘companion of Demeter’. A first point to make is that the goat narrative in the Getty text appears to be an expansion of a recurring formula in this and other magical incantations. The expression ‘goat from the garden’ or ‘drive the goat from the garden’ recurs in line 34 of this text (αἶγα βίαι ἐκ κ̣[ήπου]), line 6 (verse 11) of the Phalasarna text (αἶγα βίαι ἐκ κήπο‹υ› ἐλαύνετε),30 line 3 of the Himera text (οϲδ[..]πα ἐ‹κ› κ̣α[.]ο ἐλαύ[νετε) as reconstructed by DAVID JORDAN;31 a gap at the appropriate place in the comparable text from Lokroi Epizephyrioi may also have contained the formula. 32 These expressions all seem to concern a goat of unspecified gender which is led forcibly from the garden. In the expanded narrative in column 1 of the Getty text, it is obviously a very special goat: female, blessed with an unending supply of milk and on intimate terms with Demeter, no less. The expansion of the motif ‘goat from the garden’ may be parallel to other expansions in the narrative, concerning the ‘shadowy mountains’ (κατὰ σκιαρῶν ὀρέων), for example. BERNABÉ argues in FO that the Grammata Ephesia, which occur in line 33 of this text, are, in fact, a condensed and garbled version of original meaningful hexameters;33 OBBINK in the same volume suggests that the converse might just 27
JOHNSTON believes the historiola she identifies in the goat story is essentially un-Greek, representing a Greek adaptation of an Egyptian phenomenon; among other things, the Egyptian gazelle becomes a goat in its new Sicilian context. But her argument begs the question: is the goat narrative an historiola at all? As JOHNSTON herself concedes, there is no clear one-to-one analogy between mythical narrative and quotidian situation, which she says is typical of other historiolae. 28 As JOHNSTON, Myth, 143, n. 62, says, Amalthea is sometimes the name of the goat in the sources, sometimes a nymph who herds it. 29 Cf. JOHNSTON, Myth, 150–51. 30 SEG 42.818. For this text see now Appendix in FARAONE/OBBINK (eds.), Getty Hexameters, 185–7. 31 SEG 50.1001; JORDAN, Ephesia Grammata. 32 SEG 49.1360; JORDAN, Three Texts, no. 2. 33 BERNABÉ, The Ephesia Grammata.
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as well be true. The narrative might be a meaningful expansion of originally meaningless voces magicae.34 Whichever theory is true, it is important to realise that the mythical narrative of column 1 stands in some relation of expansion to a core element of magical spells: ‘goat by force from the garden’. But there is another goat-like figure who regularly makes his appearance in this group of texts. Although the reading is doubtful, lines 34–35 of the Getty text seem to say that a goat, whose name is Tetragos or Trax, leads the nanny-goat from the garden. In JANKO’s reconstruction: αἲξ αἶγα βίαι ἐκ κάπου ἐλαύνει· τῶι δ᾿ ὄνομα Τετραγος· σοὶ δ᾿ ὄνομα Τραξ. Line 3 (verse 5) of the Phalasarna text (SEG 42.818) has a male goat (read either as τε τράγος or Τετραγος) dragging something (ἕλκει) but what or where is lost in the unintelligible following letters. This combination of names then becomes a standard element of the voces magicae: Τραξ Τετραξ Τετραγος in line 41 of the Getty text, line 8 (verse 15) of Phalasarna, line 4 of the Lokroi text (SEG 49.1360, in JORDAN’s text Τραχ Τετραχ Τετραγος). The name Trax, and the whole sequence, would seem at first sight inevitably to recall τράγος, the billy-goat, although τέτραξ is, perhaps coincidentally, the name of a bird. The auxesis syllabarum might be seen as analogous to another Dionysiac sequence iambos-thriambos-dithyrambos, or the magical sequence Δαμνώ, Δαμνομένεια· Δαμασάνδρα· Δαμνοδαμία in an address to Hekate at PGM IV 2846–7. Goats and goat-like figures, then, populate these magical texts; we might make out both a female goat, as she appears in the Getty myth, and a male goat who seems to lurk behind the name Tetragos. But where are these goats at home in Greek religion? At this point a methodological proviso seems in order. The evidence we can muster to reconstruct the content of Greek mysteries is necessarily deficient.35 Classical authors keep quiet about aporrhēta out of respect; later Christian apologists scornfully expose pagan mysteries, but not out of a spirit of rational inquiry, but rather vitriolic bluster; their evidence is that of biased witnesses. Then there is the problem of late and geographically scattered sources. Arguing from the fifth century CE to practices a thousand years earlier is, frankly, perilous. But there is no alternative. To dismiss what evidence we have, to minimise the importance of Orphic-Bacchic mysteries, for example, because the evidence for them is elusive, fragmentary, not always consistent, is to err in the wrong direction. It is not that there were not such mysteries, or that they were not important, simply because our evidence would not stand up in a court of law; rather, we have to use the snippets of evidence we do have to make informed, but cautious, guesses.36 We are looking, then, for a context in which a person claiming privileged knowledge could address a community of initiates in Selinus and promise that, through the divine authority of Paieon, he was in a position to protect occupants of a ‘house of stone’ by a mystical narrative about a she-goat and magical spells. My hypothesis will be that the speaker was one of the ‘magicians’ or ‘seers’ mentioned by Plato who 34
OBBINK, Poetry, 182 with n. 20. See JAN BREMMER’s new book (BREMMER, Initiation), with BOWDEN, Review of BREMMER. 36 I am thinking, for example, of the overly sceptical approach of EDMONDS III, Ephesia Gramma35
ta.
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promise, with the assistance of a ‘hubbub of books by Orpheus and Mousaios’, that they can rid people of pollution by cleansing spells (katharmoi) and perform other magical acts, for a price (Resp. 364).37 The word Orpheotelestai, ‘Initiators into Orpheus’ mysteries’, is known from Theophrastos’ portrait of the superstitious man, Philodemus and Plutarch. 38 Their initiations were, as we now know more securely from the Orphic-Bacchic gold lamellae, most closely associated with DionysosBakchos, but also with Demeter-Kore and the Mother of the Gods. This triad of mystery cults should be our prime suspect in considering the Getty hexameters.39 The association of a goat-sacrifice with Dionysos’ cult is a well-investigated topic. It led WALTER BURKERT to his ground-breaking article on the connection of tragedy itself with the ‘Bocksgesang’, song for the tragos, that is, for a goat sacrificed to Dionysos. 40 In Euripides’ Bacchae, 138–9, for example, the choric description of Bakchos’ ecstatic cult includes the ‘hunt for the goat’s blood, the joy of raw meat’ (ἀγρεύων αἷμα τραγοκτόνον, ὠμοφάγον χάριν). Confirmation comes from the interesting fragmentary text known as the Gurôb papyrus, now in Trinity College Dublin and recently re-edited by HORDERN, Notes.41 Gurôb is a place in Egypt and the text, according to HORDERN, is ‘a curious mixture of invocations and prayers and what appear to be instructions for a ritual based around the death (and rebirth?) of the infant Dionysos, which had important ritual and initiatory significance’ (p. 131). Dionysos himself appears in the text by name in line 23 and with cult names Eubouleus (18), Irikēpaios in 22. There is, however, also mention of deities associated with the Eleusinian Mysteries (Brimo and Demeter), Rhea and the Kouretes, and Sabazios. We see here, then, the typical cluster of mystery deities, rather than Dionysos exclusively. A ram, κριός, and male goat, τράγος, are mentioned in lines 10 and 13, and there is talk of ‘eating the remaining meat’ (14 τὰ δὲ λοι̣πὰ κρέα ἐσθιέτω); clearly the rite involved the sacrifice of a goat and ram. The fragmentary hexameter in line 4 with ‘atonement for [lawless] ancestors’ (ποινὰς πατέ[ρων ἀθεμίστων), combined with the mention of Kouretes in line 7, is a clear reference to the Orphic myth of Dionysos’ birth. Firmicus Maternus and Diodorus give us details of this, well discussed by SARAH ILES JOHNSTON in a chapter of Ritual Texts for the Afterlife.42 But recent discussions of the Dionysiac mysteries have missed what I think is an interesting addition to our testimonies. Herodas’ Eighth Mime, datable to third century 37
I mean, generally speaking, the same group as referred to by RICHARD JANKO (JANKO, Hexametric Incantations, 32) as ‘wandering seers and oracle-mongers such as we see most vividly in Ar. Eq. and Av., disreputable people who peddled hexametric spells and oracles of various kinds’, whereby I would assign the word ‘disreputable’ more to our take on them. See BURKERT, Itinerant Diviners. 38 Theophr. Char. 16.12; Philod. Περὶ ποιημάτων 1.181; Ps.-Plu. Apophth. Lac. 224e, respectively. BERNABÉ, Derveni Papyrus, 78, comments that the term Orpheotelestes is not used within Orphic sources, but seems rather to have been a depiction used by those outside the magic circle. 39 Cf. GRAF/JOHNSTON, Ritual Texts. 40 BURKERT, Greek Tragedy. 41 See further discussion of this text in FRITZ GRAF’s chapter on Dionysiac Mysteries in GRAF/JOHNSTON, Ritual Texts; ROBERTSON, Orphic Mysteries; MERKELBACH, Hirten des Dionysos; NILSSON, Dionysiac Mysteries; SEAFORD, Dionysiac Drama. 42 GRAF/JOHNSTON, Ritual Texts.
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BCE Alexandria, is called Enhypnion or The Dream. Unfortunately, the papyrus, which I have been able to examine in the British Library, is very lacunose, meaning that we can only follow the story intermittently, like listening to a radio station with very poor reception.43 In the jesting tone typical of the Mimiambi of this author, Herodas explains that he had a dream last night which he will tell to Annas, his manservant, whose mind is not dim (νήπιος); this last point is important, as Herodas clearly means Annas to grasp the deeper significance of what he is about to tell him. Herodas proceeds to relate how he dreamt that he was dragging a goat through, or out of, a ravine in his dream. He met some men in the country who sacrificed the goat and fell upon its (raw) flesh. Then appeared a young man dressed like Dionysos in a fawn skin and with typical high boots. There followed horse-play with the skin of the goat, which editors have identified as the askoliasmos, or dancing on a blown up wine skin (i.e. goat skin) known from Dionysos’ rural cult. At one point a complete line says that the play corresponded to ‘the way we conduct initiations in the choruses of Dionysos’ (40 ὤσπερ τελεῦμεν ἐγ χοροῖς Διωνύσου). An old man appears to challenge, or fight with, Herodas, who appeals to the Dionysos-like youth to arbitrate; he seems to rule that both should get the prize. At the end of the piece Herodas explains that his experience in his dream corresponds to his literary fate: he has been given a gift by Dionysos – the goat which he led ‘out of the ravine’ (67 αἶγα τῆς φ[άραγγος] ἐξεῖλκον) – but critics have set upon his handsome gift and ripped it apart (69 αἰπόλοι μιν ἐκ βίης [ἐδ]ειτρεῦντο) and, like a ritual initiation, have devoured its flesh (70 τ]ὰ̣ ἔνθεα τελεῦντες καὶ κρεῶ[ν] ἐδαίνυντο). Scholarly treatments of the Eighth Mime have not hesitated to identify the young man in the piece as a Dionysos-like figure, and to recognise Dionysiac rites in the rending of the goat and the jumping around on a wine-skin; but they have not made the connection with Dionysiac mysteries, preferring to point to rural festivals of Dionysos, Διονύσια τὰ ἐν ἀγροῖς.44 I believe the further connection with Bacchic mysteries, however, is justified. First there is the key word τελεῦμεν in line 40; true, this can mean simply ‘perform’, ‘do’, but the word is also terminus technicus for ‘initiate’, with its cognate τελεταί, mystery initiations. Scholars may have thought that the atmosphere of ribald play told against the solemnity of mysteries. But Plato specifically mentions the παιδιά, fun and games, associated with Orphic initiations.45 In particular, I think the
43 See KNOX, Dream of Herodas; apart from the standard works by I.C. CUNNINGHAM, Herodas (editions 1971 and 1987), see now ZANKER (ed.), Herodas. 44 See KNOX, Dream of Herodas; I.C. CUNNINGHAM, Herodas (edn 1971); ZANKER (ed.), Herodas ad loc. 45 Pl. Resp. 364e3–365a3: βίβλων δὲ ὅμαδον παρέχονται Μουσαίου καὶ Ὀρφέως, Σελήνης τε καὶ Μουσῶν ἐκγόνων, ὥς φασι, καθ’ ἃς θυηπολοῦσιν, πείθοντες οὐ μόνον ἰδιώτας ἀλλὰ καὶ πόλεις, ὡς ἄρα λύσεις τε καὶ καθαρμοὶ ἀδικημάτων διὰ θυσιῶν καὶ παιδιᾶς ἡδονῶν εἰσι μὲν ἔτι ζῶσιν, εἰσὶ δὲ καὶ τελευτήσασιν, ἃς δὴ τελετὰς καλοῦσιν, αἳ τῶν ἐκεῖ κακῶν ἀπολύουσιν ἡμᾶς, μὴ θύσαντας δὲ δεινὰ περιμένει, ‘And they provide a whole hubbub of books by Mousaios and Orpheus, Selene and the children of the Muses, as they claim, according to which they conduct their magical rites, exercising persuasion not only over private individuals but also cities, that there are remissions and cleansings from the stain of guilt by means of sacrifices and the pleasures of revelry both for the living and
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hint at the beginning that Annas will understand what is meant, being ‘not dim’, points to a significance of the dream lurking below the surface. 46 Herodas could not, of course, say directly ‘last night I dreamt I took part in Bacchic mysteries’ as that would be equivalent to divulging them. What he does, in my opinion, is hint strongly that his dream experience was like an encounter with Dionysos and his entourage during Bacchic rites. If this is not too bold, the repeated statement that he dreamed he was ‘dragging a goat from a ravine’ may be connected with the byword of magical spells we are seeking to place: ‘goat from the garden’ or ‘I dragged the goat from the garden’. Herodas talks about a valley, or ravine, φάραγξ, while the magical texts have κῆπος, garden. But the action of ‘dragging from the valley/ravine’ τῆς φ[άραγγος] ἐξεῖλκον in 67 and τράγον τιν᾿ ἔλκειν [διὰ or ἐξ] φάραγγος ὠιήθη̣[ν (16)47 is quite specific, paralleled by Selinus 34 and Phalasarna (SEG 42.818) line 6 (verse 11) [αἲξ] αἶγα βίαι ἐκ κήπου ἐλαύνε‹ι›. I suggest that Herodas’ insistence on this detail of his dream would alert readers to the catch phrase of Dionysiac mysteries, ‘goat from the garden’, and thus set up an ingenious parallel between Herodas’ initiation into the Dionysiac art of mime and readers’ own experience of Bacchic rites. So we have little difficulty in arguing that the sacrifice and eating of a billy-goat played a central part in Dionysiac mystery ritual. This is still a considerable step from the she-goat with its unquenchable supply of milk in the Getty narrative. Again we need to step back somewhat before confronting the text directly. According to Clement of Alexandria (and others) the sacred tale attached to the Orphic-Bacchic mysteries involved a curious reduplication of Zeus’s birth story. 48 SARAH ILES JOHNSTON has called the narrative a ‘bricolage’ of various elements drawn both from conventional and arcane myth-making.49 Whilst mainstream theogony – e.g. Hesiod – culminated in Zeus’s reign on earth, the Orphics postulated a son of Zeus, Dionysos, by Persephone, his own daughter. This baby son was also given to the Kouretes for protection, like his father before him. We are not told whether he was suckled by the goat Amalthea or a descendant of hers. While still a baby, however, and destined to inherit the earth, the Titans lured him away from his minders with toys, killed him and chopped him up in preparation for a meal. However, Athena managed to save his still palpitating heart, and Apollo takes this and the other body parts to Delphi, where he reassembles and revives Dionysos.50 This myth underlies the so-called Bacchic mysteries, as attested by various creditable authors, such as Plutarch and Diodorus, not to mention more obscure ones such as Firmicus Maternus.51 As we have seen, the Gurôb papyrus picks up a number of key points – the main goddesses concerned, the Kouretes – and combines for the dead, which they call “initiations”, which release us from sufferings in the thereafter, but that terrible things await those who fail to sacrifice’. 46 Cf. ROSEN, Mixing of Genres. 47 ZANKER prefers ἐξ here in line with 67. 48 Clem.Al. Protr. 2.17–18. 49 In her chapter The myth of Dionysos in GRAF/JOHNSTON, Ritual Texts. See further BERNABÉ/JIMÉNEZ SAN CRISTÓBAL/SANTAMARÍA (eds.), Dioniso. 50 For alternative versions of Dionysos’ revival see JOHNSTON’s chapter in GRAF/JOHNSTON, Ritual Texts. 51 See above n. 41 for some basic works.
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these with allusion to a sacrifice of a ram and a goat, and the eating of meat. The sacred meal in ritual is likely to mirror the Titans’ meal of Dionysos – a point which is confirmed indirectly by Clement who lambasts the participants in Bacchic ritual for their obscene meat-eating ritual.52 I suggest, then, finally, that the Getty narrative is nothing other than the sacred narrative of Dionysos’ birth. Let us examine the relevant points. First, the two goddesses mentioned – Persephone in her garden and Demeter – are the relevant ones in the ‘Orphic’ myth of Dionysos’ birth. Persephone is the mother, Demeter her mother. I suggest that the goat with milk is coerced into suckling the young god in a parallel action to that of his father before him, Zeus. Whether the goat herself is to be identified as Amalthea again, is doubtful. Then Hekate appears, the goddess usually connected with the Underworld and mysteries, leading a god (θεὰ θεῶι ἡγεμονεύει); she announces that she has come to announce to the world the advent of a god whose name is not given, but the first half of whose descriptive epithet ἀγλα‐ might be Dionysiac ἀγλαοκάρπου. The next line doubtless contained news of what the new god will bring to the world (see my e.g. reconstruction of the line). The Underworld setting of the scene is an aspect singled out by Clement in his polemic against Bacchic mysteries.53 Finally, the authority of Paieon fits this account well; in one version of the Orphic-Bacchic myth, it is Apollo who saves and restores Dionysos to life after he has been mangled by the Titans. By the fifth century Paian as a cult title was most closely associated with Apollo. Our author, an Orpheotelestēs I surmise, appeals to Apollo Paian as the divine healer, who, according to myth, had even saved Dionysos as a child.54 The appeal to Paieon by no means makes the Getty text a paean, as RUTHERFORD has argued in FO; rather, this is ‘Orphic’ Apollo, the magical healer, who also plays a conspicuous role in the later Greek magical papyri. I suggest, then, that the key element ‘goat from the garden by force’ in magical spells in Crete and Magna Graecia of this period, refers to the birth-myth of DionysosBakchos. The goat comes from Persephone’s garden – that is, from Dionysos’ mother Persephone – with an unending supply of milk for the divine child. With the god, come the Bacchic mysteries for humans. For, associated with the god’s advent as a child, there is the story of the Titans’ original sin. Mystai in Dionysos’ cult felt they were expiating this original sin of their ‘lawless fathers’; they take part in a sacramental meal: the goat sacrifice and its meat were probably meant to ‘imitate’ the sacrifice of Dionysos by the Titans and their intended meal of the god.55 That a male goat took this part matches the mytheme I have been arguing for, that a female goat, companion of Demeter and from Persephone’s garden, had nourished the young god. 52 Clem.Al. Protr. 2.12.2 Διόνυσον μαινόλην ὀργιάζουσι Βάκχοι ὠμοφαγίᾳ τὴν ἱερομανίαν ἄγοντες καὶ τελίσκουσι τὰς κρεονομίας τῶν φόνων ἀνεστεμμένοι τοῖς ὄφεσιν, ἐπολολύζοντες Εὐάν, ‘the Bakchoi celebrate mystery rites for raving Dionysos with ōmophagia in a state of religious ecstasy and they perform the distribution of meat from the killing wreathed with snakes, uttering the sacred wail “Eua”’. 53 Clem.Al. Protr. 2.13.2 ὑμῶν δεδόξασται τὰ μυστήρια ἐπιτυμβίῳ τιμῇ, ‘your mystery rites are characterized by funereal honours’. 54 In some versions; in others it is Rhea or Demeter who reassembles Dionysos. 55 See GRAF in GRAF/JOHNSTON, Ritual Texts, 151–5.
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If this is right, the goat narrative in the Getty text is not a historiola in the sense of an apotropaic spell, such as we find in the Philinna Papyrus, for example, but rather a mythical narrative illustrating the power of Paieon, who is invoked now to ward off evil from all those dwelling in this ‘house of stone’. In magico-medical historiolae humans and animals perform various actions (such as the wolf fleeing) which promote a desired effect in the real world (such as a headache fleeing) by analogy, or ‘sympathetic magic’. The story in the Getty text, however, concerns the advent of a god, announced by Hekate and met by an alma mater in the form of a goat. This is more like typical hymnic narrative, which commonly tells of a god’s birth and wondrous deeds as a way of heightening his or her numen.56 This hypothesis may connect up with the group of contemporary texts from Sicily and other places known as the gold funeral lamellae. These have been the subject of a number of recent book-length treatments, notably GRAF/J OHNSTON, Ritual Texts; EDMONDS III (ed.), ‘Orphic’ Gold Tablets; T ZIFOPOULOS, Paradise Earned; BERNABÉ/JIMÉNEZ SAN CRISTÓBAL, Instructions. There is now general agreement that the eschatology underpinning these texts relates in particular to Dionysos-Bakchos. Bliss in the afterlife is predicated on participation in Dionysos’ rites: ‘Bakchos himself liberated me’, as one text puts it.57 A common feature of these texts is the curious formula involving milk. Some animal is said to have ‘fallen into (or onto) the milk’: a kid, ram or bull. By way of example: κριὸς ἔπετες εἰς γάλα, ‘as a ram you fell into the milk’. There has been considerable discussion of this formula, beginning with GÜNTHER ZUNTZ, who believed it was metaphorical in sense: falling into milk was seen as analogous to landing in paradise.58 Recently CHRIS FARAONE has advanced a twofold new hypothesis. The ‘falling’ into milk, he argues, points to two aspects of Bacchic ritual: the ecstatic leap of the dance, and the jumping into white foam of the sea (metaphorical milk), which Dionysos himself did when escaping from Lykourgos in the Iliad.59 But Greek πίπτειν ἐς γάλα can also mean ‘falling on the milk’, not falling into a pool or sea of milk, and refer to the way young animals fall upon their mothers’ udders to suckle. Anyone who has seen young farm animals doing this may feel sorry for the mothers: their young literally ‘fall upon’ them in their greed. The reader will see where this thought is leading. I suggest that the ritual ‘falling on milk’ in the Bacchic leaves refers to the original mythic action of young Dionysos being suckled by the goat with its unending stream of milk. The ritual passport to paradise in the afterlife, falling on milk, refers to the aition of ritual, Dionysos’ birth story. When the souls of the departed tell Persephone, ‘as a goat (or, as a ram) I have fallen on milk’ they mean to say: we have taken part in Dionysos’ initiatory rite, a kind of communion, but with milk rather than wine. Direct evidence that initiates into Dionysos’ mysteries drank milk is slight but not negligible. Euripides’ Bacchae mentions the flow of milk, wine and nectar from the
56
Plentiful examples in FURLEY/BREMER, Greek Hymns. GRAF/JOHNSTON, Ritual Texts, no. 26 a, b Pelinna, line 2. 58 See JOHNSTON, Myth, 140–42. 59 FARAONE, Rushing. 57
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ground enjoyed by the Bacchants.60 Plato in the Ion says that Bacchants draw ‘milk and honey’ from the rivers when they are possessed by the god.61 An official known as a ‘Milk-Bearer’, γαλακτοφόρος, in Dionysos’ cult in Thessaly is recorded.62 A late reference to initiation into Attis’ cult says that the initiate was fed milk ‘like a newborn’.63 SARAH ILES JOHNSTON comments:64 ‘It is difficult, to say the least, to extrapolate from these pieces of evidence back to the earlier, Bacchic Gold Tablets.’ If my suggestion for the Bacchic context of the goat myth in the Getty text finds favour, it becomes much easier to make the connection between the ritual consumption of milk and the code phrase of the Bacchic gold leaves, ‘as animal x I have fallen on milk’. It is interesting, to say the least, that TZIFOPOULOS’s gold lamella no. 4 from Eleutherna in Crete makes the connection between ‘drinking from the spring’ with a name which seems to be connected with ‘goat’: ἀλλὰ πιε͂ν μοι / κράνας ΑΙΓΙΔΔΩ ἐπὶ / δεξιά. The word Αιγιδδω is unexplained; GALLAVOTTI suggested Ἀίδαο; VERBRUGGEN αἰγι{δ}ρ̣ω (i.e. αἴγειρος black poplar). 65 It seems to me an etymological connection with αἴξ should not be ruled out. One might imagine a spring in the eschatology of the gold leaves being named after the mythical goat with unending milk. A piece of pictorial evidence should be mentioned here. A pedestal in the Vatican Museum first published by NOGARA shows a number of Dionysian scenes, including a scene of Dionysos’ arrival, a fawn being removed from its mother, perhaps for the ritual ōmophagia, and, most significantly for my purpose, a goat being milked by an elderly man, while a female figure holds its head.66 KARL KERÉNYI, who illustrated the pedestal in his book on Dionysos, believes that the goat’s milk was used for boiling a kid in a ritual imitating the Titans’ original mishandling of Dionysos.67 That seems fanciful. Much more credible would be the ritual consumption of goat’s milk by initiates in Dionysos’ mysteries, in memory of the god-child’s first meal. Ritual consumption of the kykeōn was important in the Eleusinian Mysteries; drinking goat’s milk in Bacchic initiations would be well within the typical compass of ancient mysteries. A 60
Eur. Bacch. 142–3 ῥεῖ δὲ γάλακτι πέδον, ῥεῖ δ’ οἴνωι, ῥεῖ δὲ μελισσᾶν νέκταρι, ‘the ground flows with milk, with honey, with the nectar of bees’. 61 Ion 534a: ὥσπερ αἱ βάκχαι ἀρύονται ἐκ τῶν ποταμῶν μέλι καὶ γάλα κατεχόμεναι, ‘just as the Bakchai draw from the rivers milk and honey when they are possessed’. 62 IG X.2.1, 65 (PICARD/AVEZOU, Inscriptions, 97 no. 7 = Orph. fr. 664 in BERNABÉ, Orphicorum). 63 Sallust. De diis 4.10: ἐπὶ τούτοις γάλακτος τροφὴ ὥσπερ ἀναγεννωμένων· ἐφ’ οἷς ἱλαρία καὶ στέφανοι καὶ πρὸς τοὺς Θεοὺς οἷον ἐπάνοδος, ‘And for these the nourishment is milk, as if they were reborn. Accompanying which there is merriment and crowns and an ascent, as it were, to the gods’. 64 JOHNSTON, Myth, 141, n. 56. 65 References in TZIFOPOULOS, Paradise Earned, ad loc. 66 NOGARA, Base istoriata. NOGARA describes the obscure provenance of the pedestal (from excavations on the Esquiline Hill in Rome) in the eighteenth century; he opines that the pedestal probably served for the display of a votive object or statuary, probably for Dionysos/Bakchos; the reliefs are of ‘Hellenistic inspiration’. The scene shows on the right a goddess on a pedestal, whom NOGARA identifies as Elpis, Hope. Cf. KERÉNYI, Dionysos, 159: ‘Auf den beiden Schmalseiten der gleichen Basis sieht man jene Szenen, die ihre Perspektiven erst erhalten, wenn man begreift, dass sie das dionysische Opfer vorbereiten.’ 67 KERÉNYI, Dionysos, 159.
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final piece of the jigsaw might also fit here; in the Gurôb papyrus, a plausible supplement of col. 1, line 25 would be αἰγ]ε̣ῖ̣ο̣ν ἔπιον, with γάλα standing somewhere before it in the lacuna: ‘I drank goat’s milk’, as one of the symbola listed from line 22. HORDERN himself wonders about ο]ἶ̣ν̣ο̣ν but the third letter from last does not look like nu.68 My suggestion αἰγεῖον must remain tentative but ἔπιον indicates that something was drunk in a ritual fashion. Finally, one should not forget that the miraculous suckling of infants in myth by surrogate animal mothers is a well-established principle. One need only think of Romulus and Remus and the she-wolf. In Pausanias (10.16) we read that the people of Elyrus dedicated at Delphi a bronze goat suckling the infants Phylakis and Phylandros, who were children of Apollo by Akakallis.69
2. Revised text The text printed here combines supplements from JK (edd. pr.), FO and RICHARD JANKO’s contribution to the latter volume, with my own suggestions based on examination of photographs of the tablet. In the apparatus I cannot properly accredit some supplements in FO, as the text there lacks an apparatus. Col. 1 [μύσ]ταιϲ̣ [ε]ὐ̣[αίωνα] καὶ οὐκ ἀτέλεστ᾿ ἐπ̣α̣ε̣ίδω· ὅστις τῶνδ᾿ ἱερῶ̣ν ἐπέων ἀρίσημα κολάψας γρ̣άμματα κασσιτέρωι κοκολαμμένα λᾶος ἐν οἴκωι οὔ νιμ πημανέουσιν ὅσα τρέφει εὐρεῖα χθὼν οὐδ᾿ ὅσα πόντωι βόσκει ἀγάστονος̣ Ἀμφιτρίτη. Παιήων, σὺ δὲ̣ παντὸς ἀλέξιμα φάρ̣μακα πέμπεις καὶ τάδ᾿ ἐφώνησας ϝἔπε᾿ ἀθάνατα θ̣νητοῖσιν· {h}ὄσσα κατὰ σκιαρῶν ὀρέων μελα̣ναυγέϊ χώρωι Φερσεφόνης ἐγ κήπου ἄγει πρὸς ἀμολγὸν ἀνάγκη‹ι› τὴν τετραβή̣μονα παῖ‹δ›᾿ ἁγνὴν Δήμητρος ὀπηδόν, αἶγ᾿ ἀκαμαντορόα νασμοῦ̣ θαλεροῖο γάλακτος βριθομένην̣· ‹h›έπεται θεαῖς ῥεῖ[α] θ‹έ›ουσα φαειναῖς [λ]αμπάδας· [Ε]ἰνοδία δ᾿ ‹h›Εκάτη φρικώδει φωνῆι [βάρ]βαρο[ν] ἐκκλάζουσα θ̣εὰ θεῶι ἡγεμονεύ[ει·] [‘ἔρχομα]ι αὐτοκέλευστος ἐγ̣ὼ διὰ νύκ̣τα β[ αθεῖαν] [ἐγ μεγάρω]ν̣ προμολοῦσα· λέγω [θ]εόφρασ̣[τα κέλευθα] [ἀνθρώποις] θνητῶισι δὲ̣ δαίμο[ν]ος ἀγλα[οκάρπου,] [εὔχεται] ὃς τελέ[ε]ι̣ν χά[ριν] ὧ[ι] κ̣ε θ[έληισιν ἄπειρον.]’ [........]ικα.[ [...........]ταδ̣[
5
10
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Apparatus: (unattributed supplements are from edd. pr.) 1 FURLEY: [3–4]ταιϲ̣[.].[c. 3–4] edd. pr. 2 κολαψας L: καλύπτει vel καλύψας vel καλύψει edd. 7 vel τάδε φωνήσας edd. pr. 8 {h}ὄσσα FURLEY: hοσσα L: ἔσκε, εὖτε, hōς κε edd.: Ὄσσα (nom. 68
BERNABÉ/JIMÉNEZ SAN CRISTÓBAL, ‘Orphic’ Gold Leaves, 83, blandly assert the reading ‘I have drunk wine’, citing HORDERN, Notes; but HORDERN only considers οἶνον as a possibility. 69 More examples given by JOHNSTON, Myth, 143.
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propr.) dubit. JANKO 9 ἄγει edd.: αγαι L 10 παῖδ᾿ FURLEY: παιϲ L hοπηδον L ἁγνὴν vel ἁγίην edd. pr.: ιαγιην L 12 FURLEY: θεαιϲ ρει[.]θουϲα L, ῥεπ̣ιθοῦσα leg. edd. pr.: πεπιθοῦσα 13 [Ε]ἰνοδίαι δ᾿ ‹h›Εκάτει L corr. edd. 15 [ἔρχομα]ι̣ edd. pr.: JANKO, FO (‹δὲ› ante θεαῖς ins.) [ἤλυθο]ν̣ JANKO 16 προμολεισα L corr. edd. fin. JANKO 17 suppl. edd. pr. 18 ὥς κε θάνωσιν edd. pr.: ὧι κε θελήσηις JANKO, al. FURLEY
Col. 2, Frr. 5+6, front [ —c. 13— ]δε[ [ἀγγέλλ]ων τ᾿ ἀνόμων θ̣[υέ]ων ἀπὸ χεῖ[ ρας ἔχεσθαι.] [Παιήων,] σὺ γὰρ αὐτὸς {h}ἀ[λ]έξιμα φάρμακ̣[ α πέμπεις,] [μυστοδό]κ̣ου κατάκουε φ‹ρ›α̣σὶν γλυκὺν h[ὕμνον ἀοιδῆς.] [πᾶσιν δ᾿ ἀ]ν̣θρώποισιν ἐπιφ̣θέγγεσσθαι ἄν[ωγα] [κἀν πολέμ]ω̣ι κἄνευ πολέμω‹ν› κ̣αὶ ναυσὶν, ὅτα[ν Κὴρ] [θνητοῖς ἀ]νθρώποις θανατηφόρος ἐγγὺ[ς ἐπέλθηι] αὐτῶν τ]ε προβάτοις καὶ ἐν̣ τέχναισιν βροτ[είαις,] αἰὲν ἐπιφ]θ̣έγγεσσθαι ἐ[ν] ἐυ̣φρόνηι ἠδὲ κατ᾿ [ἦμαρ,] ‘φθόγγο]ν ἔχων hὅσιον {σιον} στόματος θυ[έεσσι μετῆλθον.’] λώιόν ἐ]σστι πόλει, τὰ γὰρ ἀ[ρ]χῆς ἐστιν ἄριστα̣. Παιήων, σὺ δ]ὲ παντὸς ἀκεσσφόρος ἐσσὶ καὶ ἐσθ[λός.] ]κι κατασκι αα[.]α ασια ενδαϲ.[ ]δε αμολγον [..] αἶγα βίαι ἐκ κή̣[που ἔλαυνε] τῶιδ᾿ὄνομ[α τ]ετραγος h[ηδ. c. 9] τετροανα]ρ ἄγετε τραγ[ c. 5 ἀνε-] μώλιος ἀ[κ]τὴ hὑδάτων ιο̣[ ὄλβ[ι]ος ὧι [κε] τάδε σκεδαθ̣[ῆι κατ᾿ ἀμε-] ξ̣α̣[τὸν] α̣ιω [καὶ] φρασὶν αὐτ[ ὸς ἔχει] [μακάρων κατ᾿ ἀμ]εξατὸ[ν αὐδήν· [Τραξ Τετραξ Τ]ετραγο[ς Δαμναμενεῦ,] [δάμασον δὲ κακῶς ἀ]έ[κοντας ἀνάγκηι.]
25
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22 edd. pr.: ἀνθρώπ]ων τ᾿ ἀνόμων ο[ἴκ]ων ἄπο χεῖ[ρας ἐρύκοις] JANKO 24 in. FURLEY (]κ̣ leg.): ]μ vel ]λ̣ potius quam ]γ̣ edd. pr.: κηληθμοῦ JANKO 25 in. JANKO 26 in. edd. pr.: ὡς δήμ]ωι κἀν εὐπολέμωι JANKO: λα]ῶι κἂν εὐπολέμωι FARAONE p. 60 FO BURKERT fin. FURLEY: ἐγγύθεν ἔλθηι edd. pr. 27 in. edd. pr.: ἄφνω ἐπ᾿ JANKO 28 in. FURLEY: ὡς καὶ ἐπί JANKO: ἠδέ τ᾿ ἐπὶ edd. pr. 29 in. FURLEY: οὕτω δὴ JANKO: κἀπιφθ‐ edd. pr. 30 in. et fin. FURLEY: χρησμὸν JANKO, tum fin. θυρέτροισιν ἐν αὐτοῖς 31 in. FURLEY: βέλτιον JANKO
Col. 3, frr. 4+3+2+1, back [ c. 9 ]κηι θν[ητ [ c. 9 ]ο̣κελ̣ε[ [ c. 9 ]ω̣ϲειϲκ[1‐2]ο̣ν[ [Ἡρακλέης] Διὸς υἱὸς [ὀ]ιστεύ̣[ σ]α[ς] κακο̣[εργούς [Ἀρτέμιδός τ]ε Διὸς μνῆσαι δ᾿ Ἑκάτοιό ‹τε› Φ[οίβου] [ἠδ᾿ Ἡρακλῆο]ς τόξξων καὶ hύδρης πολυ[κρήνου.]
45
fin.
Magic and Mystery at Selinus: Another Look at the Getty Hexameters [Παι]ή̣ων, h[ὁ] γὰρ αὐτὸς ἀλέξιμα φάρμακα πέ[μπει·] [οὐ]κ ἂν δειλήσαιτ᾿ {οὐδεὶς} οὐδ᾿ αἰ πολυφάρ[μακος ἥκοι.]
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44 ]ο κέλεσθε[ JANKO 46 in. Ἡρακλέης edd. pr, al. FURLEY 47 in. Ἀρτέμιδος FURLEY, al. edd. pr.: Ἴδμων (?) hός τε edd. pr.: υἱω]νός τε JANKO (litt. ]νοϲ e Locr. coll.) tum fin. φ[αεινῶν] 48 edd. pr.: οἷς παίεις τόξων καὶ ὕδρης πολύδειρα κάρηνα JANKO 49 edd. pr. 50 edd. pr.: οὐδεὶς πολυφάρμακος ἄλλος JANKO
Prose translation For initiates I incant effective words of salvation. Whoever inscribes in clear letters these sacred words on tin (= lead) and hides (?) them in a building of stone, him neither land creatures will harm nor any which loud-sounding Amphitrite nurtures in the sea. Paieon, you provide protective remedies for everything and you spoke the following divine words to mortals. A voice from down the shadowy mountains in the dark-lit place calls from Persephone’s garden irresistibly to milking the four-legged child, holy companion of Demeter, a goat heavy with an unceasing flow of nourishing milk; it follows the goddesses, running easily, with their shining torches. Einodia Hekate cries out wildly with eerie voice as she, a goddess, leads the god. ‘I come of my own accord through the [depths] of night, leaving my residence. I announce to human [beings the ways] ordained by god of the [bountiful] deity, who [promises] to reward whomsoever he [pleases, without limit.’] […approximately 3 lines missing …] instructing [them?] to refrain from unlawful sacrifices(?). [Paieon,] since you [provide] protective remedies in person, listen in your heart to the sweet [incantation of one initiated in the mysteries]. You instructed [all] humans to sound the refrain, whether [in war] or free of war, on their ships, whenever death-bringing Fate draws near to human beings or to [their] flocks, or during human crafts, always to sound the refrain by night and by [day]: ‘With pure [voice] in my throat [I have participated in] the sacrificial rites(?).’ It is [better] for the city; that is the best thing for government. [Paieon, you] are remedybringing in everything, and good. ASKI KATASKI AA[.]A ASIA ENDASIA. [To] milking [..] [drive] a goat by force from the garden. His name is Tetragos […] [TETROANA]R lead the goat(?) […] windy shore of waters […] Happy he for whom is scattered along his way ‘io!’(?) and who in his heart holds along his path the voice of the blessed: [TRAX TETRAX] TETRAGOS [DAMNAMENEUS], [subjugate by force the wickedly] unwilling! […approximately 3 lines missing…] Herakles, son of Zeus, who shoots down the illdoers with arrows, and recall to mind [Artemis], daughter of Zeus, and [Phoibos] FarShooter, and the bow [of Herakles] and the Hydra of many [heads.] No one will do any harm, even if he comes with much magic! Select notes on new readings These notes are intended to clarify new points in the text only; they are based on inspection of good photographs of the fragments of lead tablet. 1. [μύσ]τα̣ι̣ϲ̣ [ε]ὐ̣[αίωνα] καὶ οὐκ ἀτέλεστ᾿ ἐπ̣α̣ε̣ίδω· In. [3–4]τα̣ι̣ϲ̣[.].[c. 4] ed. pr., JANKO
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μύσταις would be a reasonable guess for the first word, since this section of the text introduces the hieros logos of mystery rites. Following that we are allowed approximately six letters for a word of metrical shape or (or, possibly, ) and syntactically parallel to ἀτέλεστα, εὐαίωνα, ‘blessed’ (7 letters), fits quite well, paralleled by e.g. Eur. Ion 126, in a monodic paean song, and Eur. Bacch. 426. BREMMER has pointed to other Euripidean elements in this magical text.70 If the space is not sufficient for εὐαίωνα one might consider the variant form εὐαίω (also ntr. pl.), but the contraction is unparalleled for this word, though common in other -ν- stems, of course (βελτίω etc.);71 καὶ is probably short before οὐκ, but might keep its natural metrical length. The sense of the first line thus reconstructed, then, would be to announce the fortune-bringing, efficacious, nature of the Paieon’s holy words. 2 κολάψας. The tablet clearly has this reading, from κολάπτω, ‘engrave’. Then in the next line we hear of ‘letters engraved in tin’ γράμματα κασσιτέρωι κοκολαμμένα (sic), and, at the end of the line, λᾶος ἐν οἴκωι, ‘in a house of stone’. It seems that the scribe may have written κολάψας in 2 by mistaken analogy with κεκολαμμένα; previous editors suspect that a form of καλύπτω, ‘conceal’, should be restored: καλύπτει (JK), καλύψει (FO, JANKO). The sentence certainly needs a finite verb by the standards of correct grammar, but in this subliterary text perhaps καλύψας would also be defensible, with an understood ἔχει or ἔχηι, meaning ‘whoever has concealed’. Certainly λᾶος ἐν οἴκωι makes better sense with ‘conceal’, rather than ‘engrave’, because we are told that the engraving is to be done ‘on tin’. Moreover the folded lead tablet was clearly meant to be hidden somewhere rather than displayed for reading, so a form of καλύπτω suits the context. 8 {h}ὄσσα κατὰ σκιαρῶν ὀρέων μελα̣ναυγέι χώρωι In. †hόσσα† ed. pr.: {h}Ὄσσα JANKO Clearly legible ὅσσα at the beginning of line 8 has given considerable trouble. Suggestions to date have been ἔσκε (JORDAN), εὖτε (JANKO), hōς κε (WALLACE) (see apparatus to ed. pr.). In FO p. 40 JANKO wonders whether Ossa is not the name of the child (παῖς) in 10. Ossa is known as the name of a mountain in Thessaly, but it does not convince as a name of the παῖς either in form or in position (widely separated from παῖς). OBBINK’s defence of ὅσσα = ὅσα = ὡς in epic72 will not do either as ὅσα in Homer is never directly equivalent to ὥς but always has the meaning ‘as much/many as’;73 as these lines run, ὅσα would have ϝἔπε᾿ ἀθάνατα in the previous line as antecedent, which does not make sense: it is not Paieon’s immortal words which led the goat from Persephone’s garden.74 I suggest changing παῖς in line 10 to παῖδ᾿ and keep70
BREMMER, Getty Hexameters. Note the apocop. accusative singular of αἰών, αἰῶ, restored in Aesch. Cho. 350. 72 FARAONE/OBBINK (eds.), Getty Hexameters, 182 with n. 19. 73 I have checked all instances. 74 I suppose, conceivably, ὅσσα = ὅσα could be an accusative of respect, referring back to ϝἔπε᾿ ἀθάνατα: ‘with reference to which many’ = ‘as regards which’, but it would be an extraordinary usage. 71
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ing ὄσσα = ‘voice’. That is, a ‘voice from down the mountains’ leads the goat by magical necessity; an unseen voice here makes better sense than a child leading the goat ἀνάγκηι: the voice has a mysterious and irresistible power, whereas the picture of a child leading a goat ‘by force’ is almost comic. Homeric scholia gloss ὄσσα as θεία κληδών, ‘divine voice’. H.Hom. 4.443 talks of a ‘wondrous new sound’ (sc. of the lyre): θαυμασίην γὰρ τήνδε νεήφατον ὄσσαν ἀκούω. The best parallel would be the divine voice (περικαλλέα ὄσσαν) of the Helikonian Muses, unseen, according to Hes. Th. 10, because they themselves are shrouded in mist. This is just the kind of mysteriously compelling voice apparently emanating from nowhere which I think is meant in this magical text. Moreover, taking the text like this gives better sense to κατὰ σκιαρῶν ὀρέων: the voice comes wafting down from the shadowy mountains and reaches the goat’s ears where it is standing in Persephone’s garden. If we take παῖς as subject of the sentence we get the less satisfactory sense that he/she leads the goat ‘down the shadowy mountains’ and, apparently, ‘out from Persephone’s garden’, which seems something of a contradiction. ὄσσα clearly has a rough breathing in L (i.e. ὅσσα), but the aspirate is placed wrongly at other points in the text as well (line 10 hὀπηδόν, 23 hἀλέξιμα). For magical voices in combination with goats one might also point to the epigram by Leonidas in which a voice from the ground tells a goat nibbling at a vinestock that enough of the root will survive to produce wine for a libation when the goat is sacrificed! (see above n. 25). 10 τὴν τετραβή̣μονα παῖ‹δ›᾿ ἁγνὴν Δήμητρος ὀπηδόν παιϲιαγιην L: παῖς ιαγίην edd. pr.: ἁγνὴν vel ἁγίην JANKO In the previous note on line 8 I suggested reading παῖδ᾿ here as object of ἄγει (subject ὄσσα). If we keep L’s clear reading παιϲ, we are left wondering what ὅσσα in 8 can be. In order to solve the conundrum I advocate keeping ὄσσα (smooth breathing) and emending to παῖδ᾿, going with τὴν τετραβήμονα: the four-footed child, that is, the goat. Moreover if we wish to keep παῖς we are left with most abrupt syntax, as τετραβήμονα is an adjective, requiring a noun. If we want to read on until ὀπηδόν, the attribute and noun object are divided jarringly by the subject παῖς. I would go as far as to say that τὴν τετραβήμονα παῖς ἁγνὴν (or ἁγίην) Δήμητρος ὀπηδόν is intolerable Greek. ἁγνήν. The first editors read ιαγίην, but the first descender might be part of a partially degraded aspirate. JANKO discusses the relative merits of ἁγίην and ἁγνήν here. As the text stands the goat is described as the ‘holy attendant’ of Demeter. 12 βριθομένην̣· ‹h›έπεται θεαῖς ῥεῖ[α] θ‹έ›ουσα φαειναῖς ‹h›έπεται ‹δὲ› θεαῖς †ῥεπ̣ιθοῦσα† ed. pr. ἕπεται δὲ θεαῖς πεπιθοῦσα φαειναις JANKO. The context here is the goat being led by the voice to milking. The first editors wonder in their apparatus whether what they read as ῥεπ̣ιθοῦσα might be taken as παρα‐ or περι‐. FO and JANKO adopt the reading π̣επ̣ιθοῦσα, ‘trusting’ or ‘obeying’, the goddesses (θεαῖς), with ‹δὲ› inserted before θεαῖς to fill out the metre. This gives the sense ‘the goat follows the goddesses, trusting in them’. However the first letter of the word here is unquestionably rho, followed by epsilon, then a vertical line which could be the
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left bar of pi, but which I take to be iota. ῥεῖ[α], ‘easily’, ‘without resistance’, is a satisfactory supplement, followed by θ‹έ›ουσα, ‘running’. The goat ‘follows the goddesses, running easily’. Here we only need to assume that an epsilon has fallen out of θ‹έ›ουσα and there is no need to insert ‹δὲ›. The reading has the advantage of making sense of the clear palaeographic reading ρει̣[. One might also explain the missing epsilon in θέουσα with recourse to θεαῖς just before, which has to be scanned as θjαῖς. The scribe might have been conscious of that fact as he wrote θουϲα by mistake in the following word. The sense is also better, as the goat is more likely to ‘skip along lightly’ than ‘trust’ the goddesses (trusting is too human an emotion). Also we avoid the contradiction involved in the juxtaposition of ἀνάγκηι and πεπιθοῦσα; if the goat is forced along, she does not need to trust. In my reconstruction, ἀνάγκηι applies to the mysterious voice calling the goat, whilst in 12 she is tripping along (ῥεῖα θέουσα) on the heels of goddesses now (Hekate and her torch-bearing attendants).75 18 [–c. 10–] ὃς τελέ[ε]ι̣ν χά[ριν] ὧ[ι] κ̣ε θ[έληισι ὡς vel ἕως κε θάνωσι edd. pr. (in app.) τέλεσον χάριν ὧι κε θελήσηις JANKO. At the beginning of the line the first editors allow for about ten missing letters, but the writing is bigger in this section; if the missing letters were the same size as the rest of the letters in this line, I count space for approximately seven letters only. One might be looking for a finite verb (εὔχεται?) going with an infinitive τελέειν, or perhaps a genitive plural noun picked up by ὧι later in the line (χρηστῶν?). But much uncertainty surrounds beginning and end of this line. A relative predication with ὃς, referring to the δαίμων announced in the previous line, however, seems a reasonable guess. JANKO already suggested χάριν, but I would suggest a different construction around it. One might try ἄπειρον at line end, going with χάριν. Possibilities for supplementing a form of τελέω are limited: τέλεσον (JANKO), τέλεσεν or τελέειν. 24 [μυστοδό]κ̣ου, if correct, makes it clear whose song this is: one initiated in the Mysteries. The reading clearly accords with [μύσ]ταις in the first line. Kappa as first trace after the break is legible, but others have read the trace differently (see apparatus). 31 λώιόν ἐ]σστι πόλει, τὰ γὰρ ἀ[ρ]χῆς ἐστιν ἄριστα̣. In. βέλτιον JANKO. Edd. pr. allow for five letters before ἐσστι. λώιον (5 letters) might be thought to be a better epic word than βέλτιον (7 letters) here; e.g. Hom. Il. 1.229, Hom. Od. 2.169. Epic comparative is βέλτερον rather than βέλτιον (JANKO). 46 [Ἡρακλέης] Διὸς υἱὸς [ὀ]ιστεύ̣[σ]α[ς] κακο̣[έργους [Ἡρακλέη]ς Διὸς υἱὸς [.]ιϲτε[ c. 9 (sic)] πάγ̣κακ[ον ἦμαρ edd. pr. [Ἡρακλῆς] Διὸς υἱός, [.]ιστει[.π]αγκακ[ JANKO 75
See now JOHNSTON, Goddesses.
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Both edd. pr. and JANKO suggest a form of Herakles at line beginning; he is a son of Zeus, and his killing of the Lernaean Hydra with poisoned arrows features in line 48. After διος υἱος̣ there is only space for one letter before clearly legible ιστε, followed by a gap of two letters at most, then α.κακο̣[. To date no supplement has been suggested for the middle position after υἱός. Ed. pr. has what must be a misprint where it is indicated that a gap of ‘c. 9’ letters follows ιστε. Possibilities are very limited for [.]ιστε[, as a short syllable must intervene between υἱός (-u) and ‐ιστε‐. I can only think of a form of ὀιστεύω e.g. ὀιστεύσας, having shot an arrow or shooting an arrow, which, of course, goes well with Herakles. No form of ἀιστόω or ἀιστός can be made to fit, nor does a sheep ὄις seem appropriate. Callimachus also has ὀιστευτής (Doric perhaps ὀιστευτάς) which might be an alternative; the Iliadic ὀιστεύσας (4.196 and 206; 8.269), however, seems to give a better precedent. At line end κακοέργους, mischief-makers, malefactors, seems a reasonable guess, but there are no doubt other possibilities, e.g. κακὸν ἄνδρα vel sim. Ed. pr. read ]παγ̣κακ[ but pi is not visible at all in the photographs I have; JANKO correctly reads π]αγκακ[ (but here the gamma is over confident!). It seems to me the traces of the left arc of omikron after κακ‐ can be seen.
Beyond Ereškigal? Mesopotamian Magic Traditions in the Papyri Graecae Magicae DANIEL SCHWEMER 1. Babylonian strands in Graeco-Egyptian magic Descriptions of the magic and religious traditions observable in the magical papyri from Graeco-Roman Egypt regularly name Babylonian influences among the strands of knowledge that make up the syncretistic texture that is characteristic of the incantations and rituals from that body of texts.1 Mesopotamian motifs in the Greek magical papyri are also quoted as evidence for the longevity of Babylonian magic and religion in the Hellenistic and Roman Periods.2 As has long been known, the name of the Mesopotamian goddess of the Netherworld, Ereškigal, an originally Sumerian name that is widely used not only in Sumerian but also in Akkadian texts throughout all periods of Mesopotamian history, occurs several times in Greek magical texts. Assessing the significance of the use of Ereškigal’s name in those texts poses some difficulties, and scholars do not agree on the extent to which traditional Mesopotamian magical lore, as amply attested in cuneiform sources, is reflected in the magical texts of the Graeco-Roman world. Whereas some state that traces of Mesopotamian influence beyond the mention of Ereškigal are virtually absent from the Greek magical papyri,3 others have pointed to further divine names possibly of Mesopotamian origin (infra, 4.1). It has been claimed that Akkadian phrases can be found in the voces magicae and that the pure vowel sequences in the voces magicae ultimately originate in the learned interpretation of cuneiform syllabaries by Babylonian scholars (infra, 4.2). A number of contributions, among them several by CHRISTOPHER FARAONE, have drawn attention to common motifs and ritual techniques that seem to indicate a certain cultural continuum (infra, 4.3 and 4.4). Moreover, specific Graeco-Egyptian magical texts have been identified as rituals of Babylonian origin on grounds of their structural similarity to procedures attested in Akkadian cuneiform texts (infra, 4.5). In the past, the discussion of the relationship between Graeco-Egyptian and Mesopotamian magic primarily sought to explain similarities between the two bodies of texts as elements that were (more or less indirectly) borrowed and adapted in Egypt or Greece from older Mesopotamian traditions. These had, in one way or another, sur1 BETZ (ed.), GMPT, xlv–vii; GAGER (ed.), Curse Tablets, 26; BRASHEAR, Greek Magical Papyri, 3425 (with further references). 2 See, e.g., DALLEY/REYES, Mesopotamian Contact, 114–15; and DALLEY, Sassanian Period, 169. 3 Cf. QUACK, Kontinuität und Wandel, 92, n. 86.
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vived the demise of the Assyrian and Babylonian empires and the diminishing of cuneiform in Babylonia. More recent studies have begun to investigate the reverse process and have proposed to explain peculiarities in cuneiform magical texts from Hellenistic Babylonia as evidence for the adoption of Greek ideas in the Babylonian ritualistic lore of that period.4 JOANN SCURLOCK finds evidence for this process in a cuneiform manuscript already from late seventh-century Assyria, a finding that, if confirmed, may have important consequences for our understanding of the development of Graeco-Egyptian and Greek magic.5 There are two methodological considerations that are, in my view, critical for evaluating the relationship between Mesopotamian magic tradition, the texts regarded as part of āšipūtu by Babylonian and Assyrian scholars,6 and the Greek magical papyri from Egypt and other related Greek texts: 1. The expanse of Mesopotamian āšipūtu texts has to be taken into account: how widespread was Mesopotamian exorcistic lore in the various cultures of the ancient Near East? In which ways were Mesopotamian and other contemporaneous magic traditions of the ancient Near East interrelated? Which agents and media played a role in these processes? When and where did the practice of transmitting āšipūtu texts in cuneiform cease, and how did this phenomenon relate to the adoption of alphabetic scripts in Babylonia and to various forms of Aramaic becoming the dominant languages of the region? 2. Similarities between magic rituals from different ancient cultures cannot, as such, be accepted as sufficient evidence for cultural borrowing and plurality. Criteria must be applied that permit an assessment of the significance of similarities and inform the judgment on the extent and nature of any proposed cultural borrowing.
2. The reach of Mesopotamian magic With the adoption of the cuneiform writing system beyond the boundaries of Southern Mesopotamia, Sumerian and Akkadian incantation texts became known across many regions of the ancient Near East already in the course of the second half of the third and the first half of the second millennium BCE.7 The spreading of these texts is unlikely to have been limited to the context of scribal education.
4
See SCURLOCK/AL-RAWI, Weakness; SCURLOCK, Sorcery. Other recent contributions on Mesopotamian medicine, astronomy and magic that have contributed to this debate include HEEßEL, Stein; FRAHM, Text Commentaries, 369–83; GELLER, Melothesia, passim; REINER, Astral Magic, passim; REINER, Early Zodiologia, 421–7; ROCHBERG, Path of the Moon, especially chapter 7 (which was first published as an article in 1987); ANNUS, Soul’s Ascent, 1–53. 5 See SCURLOCK, Sorcery. 6 For recent overviews of āšipūtu texts and the various genres of magical rituals in ancient Mesopotamia, see SCHWEMER, Magic Rituals, and SCHWEMER, Ancient Near East. 7 For the incantations from Syrian Ebla, see CATAGNOTI/BONECHI, Magic and Divination. For recent discussions of Old Assyrian incantations from Anatolian Kaneš, see BARJAMOVIC/LARSEN, Old Assyrian Incantation; FINCKE/KOUWENBERG, ‘New’ Old Assyrian Incantation. The incantations from
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In the Late Bronze Age, one can observe for the first time how Mesopotamian magical and medical expertise was imported at foreign courts, such as that of the city state of Ugarit or the Hittite capital Ḫattuša. In Ḫattuša this process can be shown to have involved the presence of experts from Babylonia and Assyria at the Hittite court and the introduction of Mesopotamian cuneiform manuscripts to Ḫattuša, to some degree even their translation and adaptation into Hittite. At the same time, the tablet collections from Ḫattuša show that the distinct Anatolian traditions of magic rituals continued to be transmitted and used without being submitted to an across-the-board transformation under the influence of the prestigious expert knowledge from Mesopotamia. The Hittite magic rituals that do exhibit Mesopotamian elements usually belong to the Hurrian milieu and owe their Mesopotamian characteristics not to syncretistic tendencies among experts at Ḫattuša, but to their originally Syrian and Northern Mesopotamian provenance. The transmission of magic rituals and incantations at the thirteenth century Hittite royal court thus offers an example of how cultural plurality does not necessarily result in syncretistic integration but can remain largely compartmentalised.8 In the late second and early first millennium, many āšipūtu texts acquired fixed forms that enjoyed wide circulation among scholars and are regularly attested in firstmillennium tablet collections in Babylonia and Assyria. With the expansion of the Assyrian empire (and its Neo-Babylonian successor state) scribal learning and, with it, Babylonian exorcistic texts and competence stretched far beyond the Assyrian and Babylonian heartlands, as is aptly illustrated by one of the most important libraries from the Neo-Assyrian Period found at the site of Sultantepe south of modern Urfa.9 At the royal courts foreign scholars from Egypt and Anatolia were employed,10 but the apparent absence of traces of their particular traditions of learning in first-millennium Sumerian and Akkadian āšipūtu texts suggests that the introduction of foreign expertise at the courts did not lead to an extensive intellectual exchange and a subsequent transformation of the established Mesopotamian body of exorcistic texts. The transmission of cuneiform āšipūtu texts in Babylonia outlasted the last Babylonian kings by half a millennium, even though royal libraries of cuneiform exorcistic texts like those of the Sargonid kings at Nineveh then had become scholarly institu-
Old Babylonian Mari on the Middle Euphrates are catalogued by G. CUNNINGHAM, ‘Deliver Me from Evil’, nos. 340–41, 407–411. 8 See SCHWEMER, Gauging. 9 For a brief characterisation of the library from Neo-Assyrian Sultantepe, see PEDERSÉN, Archives, 178–80. 10 See RADNER, Assyrian King, and, for the presence of Egyptian princes at the Assyrian court and their later appointment by Assyrian kings in Egypt, RADNER, After Eltekeh, passim. RADNER states that ‘we can be certain that scholars and priests were busy trying to integrate the newly found Egyptian traditions into the Mesopotamian world-view’ (RADNER, Assyrian King, 225); the ritual experts from Syria and Anatolia present at the royal court seem to have been mostly augurs. For the presence of Greeks in first millennium Mesopotamia, see the comprehensive overview by ROLLINGER, Zu Herkunft, and KESSLER, Neue Informationen; a presence of Greek ritual experts at the first millennium Assyrian and Babylonian royal courts is not (yet) attested in the cuneiform record.
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tions of a bygone age.11 One of the most prolific collections of magic rituals and incantations comes from the private library of a family of exorcists in early Hellenistic Uruk,12 and copies of texts of these genres were still produced in the late second century BCE by scholars in Babylon.13 Even among the latest group of cuneiform texts, the so-called Graeco-Babyloniaca, there are excerpts from āšipūtu incantations accompanied by a transcription in Greek letters.14 Traces of Babylonian magic and religious traditions that can be found in later Aramaic and Mandaic magic texts as well as in the Babylonian Talmud indicate that in northern Babylonian cities like Babylon some ancient religious practices persisted into the second and third centuries CE.15 To what extent cuneiform literary texts were written with ink on leather – either in cuneiform or in Aramaic or Greek transcriptions – is unknown, though it seems unlikely that our overall picture of the transmission of traditional Babylonian knowledge in the late periods is greatly distorted by the fact that the more perishable writing materials like leather, wood and papyrus did not survive in Babylonia. But it is worth remembering that wax-inlaid writing boards were widely used for recording literary cuneiform texts in first-millennium Mesopotamia.16 This brief overview illustrates sufficiently the wide geographical distribution and enormous chronological extent of Mesopotamian cuneiform magic texts. The dissemination and lasting transmission of the āšipūtu texts allow in principle for many different scenarios of their diffusion into the Eastern Mediterranean, both by direct contact with Mesopotamian texts and experts or by the indirect communication of ideas whose spreading may often be impossible to trace and date with any certainty.
11
For the Nineveh libraries and their lasting influence also on Babylonian scholarship, see FRAME/GEORGE, Royal Libraries; BEAULIEU, Afterlife; FRAHM, Text Commentaries, 295. 12 For the library of Iqīšâ (family Ekur-zakir) and the slightly earlier library of Anu-ikṣur (family Šangû-Ninurta), see CLANCIER, Bibliothèques, 47–73, 81–5; FRAHM, Text Commentaries, 290–96. 13 Most of the tablets and fragments of Late Babylonian āšipūtu texts are not dated. OELSNER, ‘Sie ist gefallen’, 11–15, gives an overview of the latest dated texts from Babylon; his list does not include an āšipūtu text (cf. also OELSNER, Incantations). BM 64514 (82-9-18, 4494), a manuscript of tablet III of the anti-witchcraft ritual Maqlû, was owned by Nabû-[…], a son of Itti-Marduk-balāṭu of the Egibatila family. This Itti-Marduk-balāṭu may well be identical with Itti-Marduk-balāṭu of the same family, father of Bēl-šumu-līšer, who is named in colophons of tablets dating to the late second and early first centuries BCE (see HUNGER, Kolophone, no. 144). 14 Graeco-Babyloniaca, nos. 10 and 11. For the text group, see GELLER, Last Wedge; WESTENHOLZ, Graeco-Babyloniaca; OELSNER, ‘Sie ist gefallen’, 14–15. WESTENHOLZ argues that the tablets should be dated somewhere between 50 BCE and 50 CE. On palaeographical grounds, GELLER and, cautiously following him, OELSNER (OELSNER, ‘Sie ist gefallen’, 15, n. 40) consider a second century date for Graeco-Babyloniaca, no. 10; GELLER even considers an early third century CE date possible. 15 See OELSNER, ‘Sie ist gefallen’, 9–18; OELSNER, Incantations; MÜLLER-KESSLER/KESSLER, Spätbabylonische Gottheiten; GELLER, Influence. 16 Cf. OELSNER, ‘Sie ist gefallen’, 16–17. Writing boards are frequently mentioned in colophons of literary texts on clay tablets, but only very few have survived. An ivory writing board was found in the library of Kiṣir-Aššur, an exorcist from seventh century Aššur; a folding set of sixteen ivory writing boards was found at Nimrud (eighth century); for photos of these famous documents, see MARZAHN/SALJE, Wiedererstehendes Assur, 150; CURTIS/READE, Art and Empire, 191.
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3. The significance of similarity The study of possible influences of the practice of magic and magical texts from Mesopotamia on other bodies of magical texts in antiquity must navigate between the Scylla of a minimalism that ascribes all similarities to universal characteristics of magic and the Charybdis of a ‘pan-Babylonistic’ diffusionalist maximalism that claims Mesopotamian origin based on even the vaguest resemblances. As I have argued in a study on the relationship between Mesopotamian and Hittite magic traditions,17 there are a number of simple criteria that should inform any judgment on whether similarities in magic texts from different cultures constitute independent developments or are indeed owed to cultural borrowing: 1. Specificity: The more specific a similarity between two text groups can be shown to be, the more likely it is to be explained as the result of a diffusionist process. Specificity may be established by names, foreign words or any form of translation, but also by extended structural parallels (rather than isolated resemblances). 2. Exceptionality and unexpectedness: The more exceptional and unexpected a character, action, location, material or narrative is in its present context, the more likely it is to be explained as introduced from a different cultural milieu. 3. Co-occurrence: If parallels and similarities between magical texts from two cultural backgrounds are isolated and rare, an interpretation as cultural borrowings becomes less probable. Highly specific and, at the same time, isolated similarities may indicate distance and limited familiarity between the original cultural source and the recipient. If an application of these criteria indicates that the presence of a certain deity, motif, spell or rite in the Greek magical papyri is owed to a cultural borrowing from Mesopotamia, then a hypothesis on the nature of the adaptation process must be provided. Are we dealing with an ill-defined diffusion of certain practices and motifs that may have occurred much earlier than the Greek text under study? Or are the observed similarities the result of the transmission, translation and adaptation of actual texts at a time not far removed from the formation of the Greek magical text?
4. Mesopotamian motifs in the Greek magical papyri 4.1. Deities Only one of the deities attested in the Greek magical papyri can be identified without any reasonable doubt as being of Mesopotamian origin.18 Ereškigal (Εϱεσχιγαλ), the Mesopotamian queen of the Netherworld, who is also attested on lead curse tablets and on apotropaic gems,19 occurs as a name of the Greek Netherworld goddess Persephone 17
See SCHWEMER, Gauging, 145–8. BRASHEAR, Greek Magical Papyri, 3425, also counts ‘Baal, Šamaš, and perhaps NEBUTOSUALETH’ among the Babylonian deities. 19 PGM IV 337 (GMPT, 44), 2749–50 (GMPT, 89); PGM LXX 5–11 (GMPT, 297). For magical gems, see, e.g., MICHEL, Gemmen im Britischen Museum, nos. 66 and 92, and ŚLIWA, Egyptian Scarabs, 87. For lead tablets, see, e.g., GAGER (ed.), Curse Tablets, 97–100, no. 28; 207–9, no. 110. 18
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and of Hekate, the goddess of magic whose epithet ‘of many names’ is amply illustrated by the recitations addressed to her.20 Ereškigal is also attested in the voces magicae, occasionally followed by NEBUTOSUALETH (νεβουτοσουαληθ).21 In none of the contexts in which Ereškigal occurs is her name accompanied by any epithets or motifs for which Mesopotamian provenance could possibly be claimed. Even in a short invocation that is addressed to Hekate as Ereškigal, the symbols (σημεῖα) listed after her name are all well attested for Hekate and Persephone, but not for Mesopotamian Ereškigal.22 It seems worth noting here that Ereškigal, although reasonably well attested in Mesopotamian āšipūtu texts, is by no means the most prominent deity in that genre. The motivation for integrating her name into the Graeco-Egyptian tradition of magical texts was certainly not a desire to adopt important Babylonian deities of magic, but rather served the purpose of furnishing the Greek Netherworld goddess with a mysterious-sounding, foreign name. Although the choice of the name Ereškigal reveals a basic knowledge of Mesopotamian theological typology, the use of Ereškigal’s name in the Greek magical texts leaves little doubt that the experts who composed, transmitted and used these texts had either little interest in or little knowledge of (or both) the Mesopotamian traditions associated with Ereškigal in magical or other cuneiform texts. A Mesopotamian origin has been proposed for NEBUTOSUALETH, associating the phrase with the Mesopotamian god of wisdom Nabû who, as the city god of Borsippa, played a prominent role in first-millennium Babylonian religion. But there is little evidence for this equation. The god Nabû has no specific competence in magic nor is he connected with the Netherworld; more importantly, no satisfactory explanation for the second part of the phrase can be given on the basis of a Mesopotamian hypothesis.23 The sun-god Šamaš, who is, together with Ea and his son Asalluḫi, the most important deity of Mesopotamian exorcistic lore, is invoked a few times in the magical papyri, in one passage together with his Egyptian counterpart Re (Σαμασφρηθ). As with Ereškigal, the contexts in which Šamaš is mentioned do not contain any phrase or motif that may be attributed to Mesopotamian influence. Thus one could argue that 20
Cf., e.g., the incantation addressed to Hekate in PGM IV 2708–84 (GMPT, 88–90); there in line 2745 πολυώνυμε (cf. also πολύμορφε, PGM IV 2726). The interpretation of Ereškigal as an epithet of Typhon-Seth in PGM XIVc 23 (P. Mag. LL, 23, 16, see GMPT, 232) is questionable; although the spell is addressed to Typhon-Seth, the use of the stock phrase ἀκτιῶφι Ἐρεσχιγάλ νεβουτοσοαληθ in the vox magica (see MICHEL, Gemmen im Britischen Museum, 373, for a brief discussion of the ‘AKTIŌPHI-Logos’) must not necessarily imply an identification between Ereškigal and Typhon-Seth; cf. FOSSUM/GLAZER, Seth, 91. 21 PGM II 33 (GMPT, 13); PGM IV 1416 (GMPT, 65), 2749–50 (GMPT, 89), 2913–14 (GMPT, 93); PGM V 340 (GMPT, 106), 426 (GMPT, 109); PGM VII 317 (GMPT, 126), 896 (GMPT, 142), 984–5 (GMPT, 144); PGM XIII 925 (GMPT, 193); PGM XIXa 7 (GMPT, 256); PDM xiv/P. Mag. LL, 7, 26 (GMPT, 207; Demotic µrêsgSyngol); for the Demotic form, see QUACK, Griechische und andere Dämonen, 459, 482. As J.F. QUACK points out to me, the Demotic writing reflects an adaptation of the Greek form of Ereškigal’s name. 22 See PGM LXX 5–11 (GMPT, 297); cf. BETZ, Fragments, 291 with n. 20 and 21. 23 See BRASHEAR, Greek Magical Papyri, 3593; cf. also MICHEL, Gemmen im Britischen Museum, 373.
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Σαμας should not be connected with the Mesopotamian sun-god at all, but should rather be identified with the Syro-Palestinian solar deity of the same name.24 Finally, it should at least be mentioned that HANS PHILIPP WEITZ in his 1910 article on Sarapis in ROSCHER’s Lexikon proposed to identify the word ιλιλλου, which is attested twice in a vox magica, with the Mesopotamian god Ellil.25 In the same article he argued that the divine name Ιαω in the Greek magical texts stands for Ea, the Mesopotamian god of wisdom and magic, rather than the Hebrew god Yahweh, and that the origins of the Egyptian god Sarapis likewise are to be sought in Mesopotamia.26 These hypotheses have long been refuted and are only of historical interest. 4.2. Voces magicae and litterae magicae For a few phrases in the voces magicae an interpretation as Akkadian texts was suggested in the past, but these proposals carry little conviction and must be counted among those that WILLIAM M. BRASHEAR included in his Glossary of voces magicae ‘for the sake of completeness (and for the amusement of the reader)’.27 More recently JOANN SCURLOCK claimed that the use of sequences like ηια ευω υαε ευω ιαε in the voces magicae was derived from the esoteric explanation of a list of Sumerian verbal affixes (u – a – i – e) as being associated with deities, elements and parts of the cosmos.28 In view of the fact that the use of vowel sequences in the voces magicae is explained by the texts themselves as the combination of the seven vowels of the Greek alphabet which may be combined in different order (ιουωαεη etc.),29 a derivation from a Babylonian learned linguistic theory, which is, at present, known from only one Late Babylonian commentary text, seems far-fetched. The true commonalities between the two bodies of texts are far less specific: in Mesopotamian and Graeco-Egyptian magical texts voces magicae are used, though in comparison with the Greek magical papyri this type of recitations – Assyriologists call them ‘abracadabra’ incantations – is less common in Mesopotamian magic. Also em24 See BRASHEAR, Greek Magical Papyri, 3598, for the attestations. GRESE, in GMPT, 102, n. 8, identifies SAMAS in PGM V 1–53 (GMPT, 101–2) as a ‘Canaanite solar deity’. SEMESILAM (σεμεσιλαμ; see BRASHEAR, Greek Magical Papyri, 3598; MICHEL, Gemmen im Britischen Museum, 376) is certainly Hebrew (for its interpretation as SmS owlm, cf. LEICHT, Qedushah, 159, n. 57 [comm. J.F. QUACK]). 25 WEITZ, Sarapis, 362; cf. PGM XIII 109–10, 194–5, 666 (GMPT, 175, 178); but see BRASHEAR, Greek Magical Papyri, 3591, s.v. λου. 26 WEITZ, Sarapis, 359–60. 27 WEITZ, Sarapis, 361; BRASHEAR, Greek Magical Papyri, 3591. 28 See SCURLOCK/AL-RAWI, Weakness, 371–2, with reference to passages like PGM II 158 (GMPT, 17). The esoteric explanation of the Sumerian verbal affixes is found in a commentary on the first entries of Neo-Babylonian grammatical text no. 1 (Esoteric Commentary, lines 14–15); see FRAHM, Text Commentaries, 49 with n. 198. FRAHM’s translation is superior to SCURLOCK’s interpretation of the passage. 29 Cf., e.g., PGM X 36–50 (GMPT, 150); PGM XIII 206–9 (GMPT, 178); PGM LXIII 4–7 (GMPT, 294–5); see also MICHEL, Gemmen im Britischen Museum, 376–7. For the more specific vowel sequence, with a rising number of letters from one α to seven ω, see FARAONE/KOTANSKY, Inscribed Gold Phylactery, 265–6.
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ploying combinations of graphemes as apotropaic spells forms part of both traditions. This may have led to similar forms of esoteric interpretations which, if in contact, may have offered common ground between scholars educated in the two traditions.30 4.3. Rites and materia magica If Ištar-šumu-ēreš, a Babylonian exorcist in late fourth century Uruk, could by any chance have perused the Greek magical papyri, he would have encountered a foreign world, populated by rituals he had never heard of, deities with strange names, exotic plants, allusions to myths he did not know. Nevertheless, he would not have found it difficult to understand the function of a foreign plant like laurel if someone had explained to him that laurel in that body of magical texts played a similar role as ēru, a kind of wood (probably willow) he knew well from his own training as an exorcist.31 He would also have been familiar with many of the purposes of the rituals in the Greek texts: making someone fall in love, gaining favour with authorities, soothing anger, bringing people back to where they belong, making a business thrive, purification, warding off demons, protecting houses – for all these purposes he would have been able to produce rituals from his own tradition. Also the use of phylacteries, potions, salves and fumigations would have appeared familiar to him. He would not have been surprised by the important role of divination rituals, although most of the divinatory techniques would have been new to him. Ištar-šumu-ēreš would have readily agreed that smearing the doorposts with an apotropaic substance protects a house, that magnetic stones possess special power, and that at the end of some rituals one should go away from the ritual locale without turning back.32 He would have known from his own tradition that plants had more than one name, but he would have argued that the secret name of lupine is not ‘blood from a head’ (αἷμα ἀπὸ κεφαλῆς: PGM XII 438), but ‘lard from a white male pig mottled with 30
As noted by FRAHM, Text Commentaries, 49, n. 198, the association of the four Sumerian verbal affixes with what seem to be the four elements (fire, water, wind, mountain) in the Esoteric Commentary is intriguing and may be owed to Greek ideas about the elements (στοιχεῖον meaning both ‘cosmic element’ and ‘simple sound of speech’, ‘letter’). Note in this context the association of the Greek vowels with cosmic regions in PGM XIII 823–41 (GMPT, 191; cardinal directions, air, sky and earth). 31 For the probable identification of ēru-wood with willow, cf. STEINKELLER, Foresters, 91–2; note that an identification with laurel, as proposed by CAMPBELL THOMPSON, Dictionary, 298–300, can be safely excluded. 32 For smearing doorposts, see PGM II 150–54 (GMPT, 17); for a similar rite in a Babylonian ritual, cf., e.g., Maqlû, ritual tablet, 129’. For leaving the ritual locale without turning back, see PGM VII 439–40 (GMPT, 129); the directive ana bītīšu iššer ana arkīšu lā ippallas ‘he must go straight home without looking back’ is often found among the final instructions of Babylonian magic rituals (this parallel was observed early on; see KESSLER, Lukian, 101–2). For the use of magnetite in a love spell, see PGM IV 1722 (GMPT, 69). The stone šadânu ṣābitu ‘magnetite’ to Babylonians and Assyrians was not only known as the ‘stone of truth’, but was also used for gaining favour and sexual attractiveness; see POSTGATE, Mesopotamian Petrology, 218; SCHUSTER-BRANDIS, Steine, 425. For the use of stones in Babylonian magic rituals more generally and the reception of Mesopotamian lapidary lore in the Graeco-Roman world, see REINER, Astral Magic, 119–32.
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red’ (Uruanna III 48; see CAD T 238, s. v. tarmuš). Incantations addressed to a personified plant with special powers he would have known well; nevertheless the incantation Σὺ εἶ ἡ Ζμύρνα ἡ πικρὰ ἡ χαλεπὴ ἡ καταλλάσσουσα τοὺς μαχομένους ‘You are Myrrh, the bitter, the difficult, who reconciles combatants’ in PGM IV 1496–595 would have been entirely unknown to him, even though the phrasing of the opening line would have sounded strangely familiar to someone who knew incantations like Attā imḫur-līm šammu ša ina maḫri aṣû ‘You are “Heals-a-thousand”-plant, the herb that emerged in former times’.33 Ištar-šumu-ēreš would have been knowledgeable about some of the symbolic gestures employed in the rituals of the Greek magical papyri: rings and knotted strings could be used in rituals to gain the favour of authorities and exert power over them, sweet apples were helpful in love magic, and substitute figurines could be employed for manipulating other persons.34 But the contexts in which these symbolic gestures were performed would all have looked foreign to an exorcist from Hellenistic Uruk, and only remotely related to the rituals of his own tradition where the same items and gestures appeared. 4.4. Mythological motifs Only few similarities can be observed between the mythology and cosmology of the Greek magical papyri and cuneiform magical texts. The idea that the Netherworld is a safe depository for impurity and that the deities of the Netherworld and ghosts can be called on as helpers is certainly shared by both bodies of texts. Overall, however, the invocation of Netherworld deities is much more common in the Greek texts, and the dealings with ghosts seem to be more unreserved than in Mesopotamian exorcistic rituals.35 The image of the Netherworld as enclosed by seven walls with seven gates through which those who enter the city of the dead have to pass probably originates in Mesopotamia, but circulated widely across the ancient Near East already in the second half of the second millennium BCE. As argued by WOLFGANG FAUTH, the apparent occurrence of this motif in PGM LXII 12–16 (GMPT, 292) may well have been influenced by these older models.36
33 CMAwR I, text 7.8, 3.: 17’–30’; for this type of incantation in Babylonian anti-witchcraft rituals, see SCHWEMER, Abwehrzauber und Behexung, 58; SCHWEMER, Evil Witches, 184–5, and SCHWEMER, ‘Form Follows Function’, 270. 34 For the use of a ring, see PGM V 304–69 (GMPT, 106–7); PGM XII 201–69 (GMPT, 161–3); for tying knots, see PGM XIII 250–52 (GMPT, 179); for the use of apples, see SM 72.5–15 (= PGM CXXII; GMPT, 316); for the use of a wax doll, see SM 97 (= PGM CXXIV; GMPT, 321). These rituals and some of their Mesopotamian parallels were discussed by C. FARAONE in various contributions; see especially FARAONE, From Magic Ritual; FARAONE, Molten Wax, and FARAONE, Binding. 35 A ritual like PGM IV 1390–495 (GMPT, 64–6), for example, would have been unthinkable in a Mesopotamian context: ghosts of slain gladiators are enlisted as helpers for gaining the love of a woman; this is achieved by throwing little balls of bread that have been contaminated with the bloodied soil of the arena into the woman’s house. 36 See FAUTH, Dardaniel.
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Another trace of Babylonian mythology was identified by CHRISTOPHER FARAONE in an incantation for inflammation assigned to a Syrian woman: the reference there to seven water-carrying maidens is related, FARAONE argues, to the widespread motif of the seven water-carrying daughters of Anu in Babylonian incantations.37 ROBERT K. RITNER, however, rejects this hypothesis and draws attention to a more closely related Egyptian model for the seven blue-eyed maidens of the Greek incantation.38 In PGM VII 319–34 (GMPT, 126), a brief ritual for obtaining a vision, the cosmos is invoked to be still and quiet so that nothing may disturb the divination ritual. A similar plea, in which the regions of the cosmos are asked to stand still for the performance of a magic ritual, is known from the Babylonian anti-witchcraft ritual Maqlû, but the resemblance is too general and the contexts too different for this to be more than a structural parallel.39 4.5. Astral magic Nocturnal rituals and the invocation of astral deities are common features of Mesopotamian magic from early on. In the Persian and Hellenistic Periods the zodiac emerges as a tool for determining the favourable point of time for the performance of a ritual, enhancing the traditional hemerological methods.40 In view of the strong influence that Mesopotamian learning exerted on the astronomy and astrology of the Graeco-Roman world, traces of ‘Chaldean’ astral expertise may well be expected in the Greek magical papyri. At first glance, there are indeed some similarities: the instruction to perform a ritual when the moon is in opposition to the sun is well known from āšipūtu rituals, as is the invocation of Ursa Major, the Wagon Star (ereqqu) of the Mesopotamian night sky. But otherwise the relevant astral rituals in PGM bear no resemblance to their known counterparts in Mesopotamian āšipūtu.41 The closest parallel between a Graeco-Egyptian and Mesopotamian piece of astral magic can be found in PGM VII 284–99, a short instruction on the suitable dates for certain magic rituals according to the position of the moon in the zodiac. This instruction is structurally similar to the late versions of the Mesopotamian Exorcist’s Almanac (see 5.); but here too an actual textual correlation is excluded by the many specific differences.
37
PGM XX 4–12 (GMPT, 258–9); see FARAONE, Mystodokos, 297–333. RITNER, Wives of Horus, passim; I am indebted to J.F. QUACK for pointing me to this reference. 39 For this section of Maqlû, see SCHWEMER, Empowering the Patient, 325–7. 40 For the introduction of the zodiac as an exact coordinate system for astronomy at about 400 BCE, see BRITTON, Studies, and OSSENDRIJVER, Mathematical Astronomy, 2; the use of the constellations in astronomical and astrological texts is older, of course. 41 For a ritual to be performed when the moon stands in opposition to the sun, see PGM IV 2217– 26 (GMPT, 77); for similar instructions in Babylonian rituals, see SCHWEMER, Fighting Witchcraft. For rituals before Ursa Major, see PGM VII 686–702 (GMPT, 137–8); for Babylonian rituals before the same constellation, see, e.g., CMAwR I, texts 10.1 and 10.2. 38
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5. The Exorcist’s Almanac: Graeco-Egyptian magic in cuneiform? In recent discussions of the relationship between Graeco-Egyptian and Mesopotamian magic traditions, much attention has been devoted to a small group of cuneiform texts which are concerned with favourable dates for the performance of āšipūtu rituals and therapies. This group of texts or individual tablets of this group are often referred to as the Exorcist’s Almanac in Assyriology.42 The earliest of these texts, published as STT 300 and edited recently by MARK GELLER, formed part of the library at Neo-Assyrian Ḫuzirīna (Sultantepe); according to its colophon, the amulet-shape tablet was written in the late seventh century BCE by a young scribal apprentice43 and contained ‘incantations, cuneiform knowledge from the tablet house’.44 The text provides favourable dates for more than seventy specific ritual types by month and day; occasionally periods of time are indicated (months, or certain days of one month or several months). In total about a hundred days throughout the year are specified (see Appendix 1 for a tabular overview of the tablet’s contents). A fragment from Hellenistic Uruk, published as BRM IV, 19, is closely related to STT 300. Like STT 300, this Late Babylonian text provides favourable dates for the performance of āšipūtu rituals. All rituals listed in BRM IV, 19 are also contained in STT 300, and the recommended dates are mostly identical.45 In contrast to STT 300, the rituals in BRM IV, 19 are arranged in two annual cycles which, in total, seem to contain fewer entries than STT 300. Most importantly, BRM IV, 19 indicates not only calendrical dates for the performance of the rituals, but combines dates in the calendrical format with dates in a zodiacal format.46 In doing this, the text derives the basic zodiacal position from the calendrical date by simple transfer; thus the 21st day of Kislīmu (ix) corresponds to Sagittarius (ix) 21° (see obv. 5′–6′). In addition, BRM IV, 19 provides a second zodiacal position, the so-called micro-zodiac. According to the micro-zodiac, the 30°-area of each zodiacal sign is subdivided into twelve sections (dodekatemoria) which are again named after the zodiacal signs. Each zodiacal posi42 The two Late Babylonian sources were first edited by UNGNAD, Besprechungskunst (edition of BRM IV, 19 and 20); a new edition can be found in GELLER, Melothesia, 27–58 (edition of STT 300; BRM IV, 19 and 20). The texts were discussed by BOTTÉRO, Mythes et rites, 100–112; REINER, Astral Magic, 108–12; STOL, Epilepsy, 115–17; SCHWEMER, Abwehrzauber und Behexung, 160–61. A comprehensive analysis and partial edition of all three sources was given by SCURLOCK, Sorcery. 43 STT 300 rev. 21–5; see already HUNGER, Kolophone, no. 362; the tablet is dated to the postcanonical eponym Bēl-aḫu-uṣur. For amulet-shape tablets and the magic diagram on their lug, see REINER, Plague Amulets; MAUL, Zukunftsbewältigung, 175–90; CMAwR II, commentary on text 11.4. 44 STT 300 rev. 19: šipātu(ÉN.MEŠ) mu-du11-tu sam-tak-ki bīt(É) tuppi(⸢DUB⸣) (literally: ‘incantations, knowledge of the wedges of the tablet house’); for a different reading and interpretation, see GELLER, Melothesia, 50, 57. 45 For a tabular overview of the contents of BRM IV, 19, see Appendix 2. Only very few dates are slightly different in the two texts: ritual no. 17 (STT 300: ii 13; BRM IV, 19: ii 12); no. 41 (STT 300: vii 16–20; BRM IV, 19: vii 11); no. 58 (STT 300: viii 28; BRM IV, 19: viii 18); no. 58 (STT 300: viii 28; BRM IV, 19: viii 21). 46 See STOL, Epilepsy, 116; differently ROCHBERG, Path of the Moon, 157–8, who, however, does not explain the motivation of giving the first position in the zodiac (λ1) twice.
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tion corresponds to a micro-zodiacal position which is calculated by multiplying the degree of the zodiacal sign by twelve and advancing in the circle of the zodiac by that number. 47 Thus the sign corresponding to Sagittarius 21° is Virgo 3°, because the distance between Sagittarius 21° and Virgo 3° is 252° = 21°×12 (see Appendix 3 for a tabular overview). Another, fully preserved Late Babylonian tablet preserves a parallel text to BRM IV, 19. The tablet, which belonged to Iqīšâ, a well-known scholar and exorcist in late fourth century Uruk, was published as BRM IV, 20.48 This text, which apart from minor differences contains the same list of rituals as BRM IV, 19,49 gives no calendrical dates at all, but indicates favourable periods of time for the performance of āšipūtu rituals by zodiacal sign only (qaqqar mul… ‘region of constellation …’); occasionally two or even three possible zodiacal signs are named (for a tabular overview of the content of the text, see Appendix 3). Mostly, the constellations given in BRM IV, 20 are not the zodiacal positions directly derived from the calendrical dates, but the calculated micro-zodiacal positions, as documented in BRM IV, 19 (but in BRM IV, 20 without an indication of the degree).50 Most of the zodiacal attributions in BRM IV, 20 are therefore twice removed from the original hemerological recommendation in the calendrical format, as attested in STT 300. The simple zodiacal date format of BRM IV, 20 is found in two further Late Babylonian texts: like BRM IV, 20, the Late Babylonian fragment SpTU V, 243 was found at Uruk, though it probably comes from a different, slightly earlier, library context.51 The small fragment LBAT 1626 (BM 35537 = Sp 3, 43) was probably found at Babylon.52 The indication of dates for the performance of magic rituals by zodiacal sign is also attested in ritual texts of that period.53 47
This was first described for BRM IV, 19 by NEUGEBAUER/SACHS, Dodekatemoria; see also ROCHBERG, Path of the Moon, 157–8. 48 For the library of Iqīšâ, see CLANCIER, Bibliothèques, 47–61, with previous literature. 49 Ritual no. 27 is listed in BRM IV, 19, but not in BRM IV, 20; rituals nos. 49, 68, 69 are listed in BRM IV, 20, but not in BRM IV, 19. 50 At the end of BRM IV, 20, a commentary section is added that explains a number of the technical ritual terms. The subscript of this commentary section refers to the incipit of the commented text as ‘10th Nisannu: the (favourable) time period (for rituals for) changing (someone’s) mind’ (itiBÁRA U4.10.KAM ud-da-kam ŠÀ.BAL.BAL). Moreover, not all entries in the commentary are included in the preceding text in BRM IV, 20. Thus, SCURLOCK and FRAHM are certainly right in assuming that the commentary associated with the zodiacal almanac was based on a text that included dates in a calendrical format and was closer to a text like STT 300; see SCURLOCK, Sorcery, 125; FRAHM, Text Commentaries, 31 and 128. 51 See CLANCIER, Bibliothèques, 58–9 and 399. The fragment was edited by VON WEIHER, SpTU V, 35–6, and by GELLER, Melothesia, 59–60. 52 LBAT 1626 was discussed by REINER, Astral Magic, 110–11 (cf. also SCURLOCK, Sorcery, 125), and edited by GELLER, Melothesia, 58–9. 53 Cf., e.g., SpTU II, 23 obv. 1–2: rituals for loosening an adversary’s grip on the 10th of Ayyaru and in Virgo of Taurus (corresponding to the hemerological date in STT 300 obv. 7 and the microzodiacal date in BRM IV, 20 obv. 3; see ritual no. 14 in the tabular overviews in Appendix 1 and 3); BM 47457 obv. 15: instruction of performing a ritual for being popular and successful in the area of Virgo.
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As is evident in BRM IV, 19, the original relationship between the calendrical and the astral date format is mechanical. The astral date therefore probably refers to the position of the sun in relation to the zodiac with a simplified correlation between (the day of the) month and (the degree of the) zodiacal sign. It is less clear how the attribution of a ritual to a calculated micro-zodiacal sign is relevant to the date of its performance and how it can be used on its own, as in BRM IV, 20, without any reference to the pertinent primary zodiacal constellation. Based on Graeco-Roman parallels, ERICA REINER suggested that the references to the signs of the zodiac in texts like BRM IV, 20 refer ‘to the region of the sky where the moon stands in that particular moment’.54 In view of the close connection between the calendrical date and the zodiacal attribution, this seems to be an unlikely scenario for the primary zodiacal attributions. But it may well apply to the calculated constellations and would thus provide a set of favourable time periods that is entirely different from the original hemerological recommendations in the calendrical format. Given that the moon moves swiftly through the zodiac within a month, the lunar-zodiacal system would also produce a multiplication of suitable dates. The use of the zodiac for indicating the right period of time for performing magic rituals certainly connects the Late Babylonian exorcist’s almanacs with Greek magical texts like PGM VII 284–99 (cf. supra, 4.5). In her thorough analysis of STT 300, BRM IV, 19 and IV, 20, JOANN SCURLOCK argues that the zodiacal dates are not the only feature shared with Greek magical texts, but that the types of rituals listed in the almanacs include ‘originally non-Mesopotamian’ rites that show a marked GraecoEgyptian influence. Moreover, SCURLOCK recognises in the hemerological dates of STT 300 an Egyptian calendrical pattern.55 I remain unconvinced by her arguments for the following reasons: first, although it is true that the 10th and the 21st day of a month are often mentioned in STT 300, many other days of the month occur as well. On the whole, the calendrical dates of STT 300 do not suggest an Egyptian 36 weeks – 12 months pattern. Why one would regularly pick the last day of the first decan and the first day of the last decan also remains unexplained. The types of rituals listed in STT 300 and the related texts include defensive and aggressive rituals. The terminology used for the rituals is traditional Sumerian and Akkadian in the technolect and specialist orthography that is characteristic for this genre of text. I count 104 entries in STT 300.56 Of these, 46 have a defensive, cathartic
54
REINER, Astral Magic, 108. SCURLOCK, Sorcery, passim, especially 125, 143. The opposite process was argued by MATTHEW W. DICKIE already several years ago, who remarked with regard to similarities between GrecoRoman and Mesopotamian magic and, more specifically, between Babylonian texts like the Exorcist’s Almanac and Bolus of Mendes: ‘There is the very real possibility that texts originally written in Akkadian on cuneiform tablets were translated into the lingua franca of Babylonia and Syria, Aramaic, and that they made their way to Egypt through the medium of that language.’ (DICKIE, Learned Magician, 188). 56 This number may be slightly too high. It is not always entirely clear which items form one ritual. For example, rituals nos. 34 and 35 may have to be combined. Also rituals nos. 64–6 may have to be interpreted as only one ritual (thus SCURLOCK and GELLER; cf. the following footnote). 55
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or therapeutic character.57 A further twelve are rituals for gaining attractiveness and success and thus prevailing in society (é-gal-ku4-ra and similar).58 28 ritual types represent aggressive rituals with the goal of exerting power over other people (e.g., lovemagic of various kinds, forcing back runaway slaves, soothing an adversary’s anger or removing a man from his office). These kinds of rituals formed a ‘grey area’ in Mesopotamian magic. They were not considered illegal and exorcists copied tablets with instructions for them; but they were – understandably – regarded with suspicion, and some of them were occasionally included in catalogues of methods of witchcraft in the prayers recited during anti-witchcraft rituals.59 Five ritual types are ambiguous, neither defensive nor aggressive, or unclear.60 57 Rituals nos. 1, 3–4, 7–17, 20, 27–8, 31–2, 43–50, 56–7, 63–5, 72, 75, 82, 85–6, 89–90, 92, 96– 7, 102–4. The passage STT 300 rev. 1–3 (nos. 60–71; cf. BRM IV, 19 rev. 34–8, 20 rev. 39–42) is difficult: [ it] iAPIN U4.28.KÁM LÚ IGI ⸢LÚ⸣ ZI-e ŠÚR.ḪUN.GÁ NU! GABA.RI lu ÚŠ ⸢TAG4 lu lú UŠ11⸣.Z[ U lu munusUŠ11.Z] U, lu! MUNUS! DINGIR !(text: [ MU]NUS? lu DINGIR) DU11.DU11 ⸢lu⸣ IDIM ina É.GAL ZI-ḫi KIMIN ana ŠÀ DAB.DAB SAG.DU LÚ ana DAB-[tim], [ L] Ú ÁG LÚ ana KU5-si MUNUS ÁG KI MUNUS ana KU5-si DÍM-ma AL.[ SIL] IM, ‘28th Araḫsamna: Making a man rise against another man; calming an adversary’s anger; not being receptive to slander; or causing a dead person to depart; or (against) a warlock; or (against) a witch; or making a prophetess speak; or removing a magnate from the palace. Ditto: for seizing the ‘heart’; for seizing a man’s head; for alienating a beloved man from a man; for alienating a beloved woman from a woman. You perform (it on that date), then it will be successful’. SCURLOCK and GELLER understand the phrase lu lúUŠ11.ZU lu munusUŠ11.ZU lu MUNUS DINGIR (thus clearly in BRM IV, 19) DU11.DU11 (BRM IV, 19: šu-ud-bu-bi) to refer to only one ritual (here nos. 64–6). If this were correct, the characterisation of these rites as ‘defensive’ would, of course, be rather doubtful. Note also that SCURLOCK, Sorcery, 137, interprets KIMIN in STT 300 rev. 2 as a repetition mark for lu ÚŠ (thereby connecting nos. 68–9), whereas I take it to refer to a repetition of the date. 58 Ritual nos. 24, 33, 51, 54–5, 58–9, 62, 78–9, 98–9. The reading of ritual no. 99 (STT 300 rev. 14) is unclear. I remain unconvinced by the reading proposed by GELLER, Melothesia, 50, 57 (with a collation by S.V. PANAYOTOV, p. 53); é-lat ‘beyond’ would be very unusual, with regard to usage and orthography; also KÚRUN.NA-⸢su⸣ ‘of his tavern’ can hardly be right: sābû means ‘tavern keeper’, not ‘tavern’ (the copy records traces of the expected LÚ before KÚRUN.NA). 59 For this area of Mesopotamian magic, see SCHWEMER, Abwehrzauber und Behexung, 159–60, and SCHWEMER, Ancient Near East, 29, 39–41. Relevant are the following ritual types in STT 300 (and the related texts): nos. 5, 18–19, 22–3, 25–6, 30, 36–9, 41, 52–3, 60–61, 67–71, 77, 81, 87–8, 93, 100–101. GELLER, Melothesia, 55, translates entry no. 30, IGI.NIGIN.NA, as ‘bringing about a volte-face’. The Sumerogram IGI.NIGIN.NA usually stands for ṣūd pānī ‘vertigo’ or ṣīdānu ‘vertigo’, literally ‘spinning (of the face)’. This condition was associated with states of confusion and derangement. As a type of ritual IGI.NIGIN.NA designates rites that caused the condition of ‘vertigo’ in another person and, as such, this kind of ritual is included in lists of methods of witchcraft within antiwitchcraft incantations; see CMAwR I, text 8.3, 1.: 23; Maqlû I 91 and IV 12; SCHWEMER, Washing, 49, 54–5 (= CMAwR II, text 7.12); KAR 35 obv. 16 (with duplicates, ed. CMAwR II, text 11.4). SCURLOCK, Sorcery, 126, regards the ‘inclusion of homosexual magic (love of a man for a man …)’ as a certain indicator that the ritual types listed in STT 300 are influenced by Greek tradition. The relevant entries are no. 25 (KI.ÁG NITA ana NITA ‘love (magic), male to male’) and nos. 70 and 71 ([ L] Ú ÁG LÚ ana KU5-si ‘for alienating a beloved man from a man’ [the two later texts have ‘king’ here!]; MUNUS ÁG KI MUNUS ana KU5-si ‘for alienating a beloved woman from a woman’). The ritual types nos. 70 and 71 refer, I would argue, to a more general concept of râmu (‘to love’, ‘to feel affection’, ‘to cherish’, rather than ‘having sex with’). This line of argument may also be applied to ritual type no. 25 (thus BOTTÉRO, Homosexualität, 467–8; cf. also NISSINEN, Homoeroticism, 35),
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Finally, there are eleven entries that name methods of harmful witchcraft:61 ‘distortion-of-justice’ magic (DI.BAL.A, dibalû); hate-magic (ḪUL.GIG, zīru); ‘cutting-of-thethroat’ magic (ZI.KU5.RU.DA, zikurudû); ‘seizing-of-the-mouth’ magic (KA.DAB.BÉ.DA, kadabbedû). These entries were understood by ERICA REINER, MARTEN STOL and myself to refer to the well-attested defensive rituals against these types of witchcraft.62 In contrast, JOANN SCURLOCK and MARK GELLER have argued that the references to these four methods of witchcraft should be interpreted literally as referring to the performance of witchcraft – after all, the entries do not say ZI.KU5.RU.DA.BÚR.RU.DA ‘Undoing “cutting-of-the-throat” magic’ etc.63 Those who prefer to interpret the entries as defensive rituals can point to the fact that the apparent methods of witchcraft are mentioned side by side with UŠ11.BÚR.RU.DA, rituals for undoing witchcraft, in STT 300.64 Also it would be surprising if an āšipūtu almanac included favourable dates only for these types of black magic without naming any dates for the widely attested, corresponding defensive rituals. The interpretation of the entries as referring to aggressive witchcraft rituals is, however, not only supported by the ostensible meaning of the entries. It is clear from other texts that the specific methods of witchcraft like zikurudû were less stigmatised than kišpū (UŠ11), the main term for witchcraft; indeed one prescription for kadabbedû is preserved.65 Furthermore, no. 34 in our almanac texts (‘Rituals for entrusting a person to a ghost’) indeed looks very much like a description of even though KI. ÁG NITA ana NITA should be compared with the structurally parallel entries KI.ÁG NITA ana MUNUS ‘love (magic) male to female’ (nos. 18 and 22) and KI. ÁG.GÁ MUNUS ana NITA ‘love (magic) female to male’ (no. 19), where a sexual connotation is certainly understood. However, intimate friendship between men, homoeroticism and homosexual practices were neither unknown nor deemed generally illegal in ancient Mesopotamia, though being the passive partner in anal intercourse between two men was regarded as a disgrace to be suffered only by prostitutes (see COOPER, Buddies, 82–4, for this interpretation of Middle Assyrian Laws, A 19 and 20; cf. also NISSINEN, Homoeroticism, 19–36). 60 No. 76 is unclear. No. 2 (‘Acquiring and calming head-illness’) is phrased as aggressive and defensive. Nos. 66 (‘Making a prophetess speak’) and 84 (‘Locating treasure’) are neutral, though one could argue that ritual type no. 66 implies exerting power over the woman who is to serve as a prophetess. SCURLOCK interprets no. 42, ‘Inviting (qerû) a god or a goddess’, as a ritual for summoning deities to a banquet, as is attested in Greek rituals; according to her, in traditional Mesopotamian thought such an action would amount to suicide. It is true that ‘being called (qerû) by one’s personal gods’ is a euphemism for dying in Akkadian; but this is unrelated to inviting a deity for an offering, an action well attested in Mesopotamian royal inscriptions and literature. 61 Nos. 6, 21, 29, 40, 73–4, 80, 83, 91, 94–5. 62 See REINER, Astral Magic, 109–10; STOL, Epilepsy, 115 (implicitly); SCHWEMER, Abwehrzauber und Behexung, 160–61. 63 SCURLOCK, Sorcery, passim; GELLER, Melothesia, 27. For the explicit rubric ZI.KU5.RU.DA.BÚR.RU.DA, see, e.g., BAM 461 (ed. CMAwR II, text 10.6.2). But note the reference to rites against zikurudû as né-pe-ši ša ZI.KU.RU.⸢DA⸣.M[ EŠ] in PARPOLA, Letters, 300 obv. 4’. 64 See STT 300 obv. 4, rev. 4. Also compare the implicit phrasing in rev. 18: ina 12 ITI.MEŠ kal MU.AN.NA U4.27.KÁM U4.28.KÁM U4.29.KÁM SAG.ḪUL. ḪA.ZA DÍM -ma ⸢AL.SILIM⸣, ‘Over twelve months, the whole year, the 27th, 28th (and) 29th day: (ritual against) the Sangḫulḫaza-demon. You perform (on one of those dates), then it will be successful’. Nobody would suggest that simple SAG. ḪUL. ḪA.ZA here implies anything but a ritual for dispelling that demon. 65 See SpTU II, 22 + III, 85 rev. IV 11–12 (ed. CMAwR II, text 3.4, 3.: 5–6).
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(illegal) witchcraft; but it should be noted that all the phrases of this entry are negated in STT 300 (but not in the corresponding entries in BRM IV, 19 and 20).66 Overall, there can be no doubt that the exorcist’s almanacs – the hemerologies with calendrical dates and the astral magic texts with (micro)-zodiacal dates – included both defensive and aggressive ritual types – whether the latter included even ritual types that were usually regarded as witchcraft remains a moot point. Aggressive rituals were well known in Mesopotamian āšipūtu; and for a number of the types of aggressive rituals mentioned in the almanac texts, ritual instructions have been found in the tablet collections of Babylonian and Assyrian āšipu-exorcists.67 In our overall perception of Mesopotamian āšipūtu, the aggressive rituals – like love-magic, rituals for defeating competitors or for forcing back runaway slaves – tend to be marginalised. This tendency is, in my view, not due to a ‘non-Mesopotamian’ character or origin of these aggressive rituals, but rather to the fact that our perception of Mesopotamian āšipūtu rituals relies heavily on the royal tablet collections of Nineveh (the so-called ‘Library of Ashurbanipal’) which usually seem not to have incorporated the aggressive rituals.68 These rituals may have been considered unnecessary for the protection of the king, but the king’s scholars may also have regarded them as dubious. In any case, it is worth noting that not one of the extant sources of the so-called Exorcist’s Almanac comes from Ashurbanipal’s Library.
6. Conclusions A comparative reading of the rituals and incantations attested in the Greek magical papyri and the Mesopotamian lore of āšipūtu shows that there are significant parallels between those two bodies of magical texts. One can observe very few specific similarities that may be regarded as unquestionable cultural borrowings (in particular the use of the name of Ereškigal). Moreover, there are a number of more general similarities that may well be due to cultural contacts and the diffusion of certain rites and
66
See SCHWEMER, Abwehrzauber und Behexung, 161; SCURLOCK, Sorcery, 134, wonders whether the scribe was ‘confused or could … not bring himself to list these rites without canceling them, as it were’. 67 For love magic, see SCHWEMER, Akkadischer Liebeszauber, 70–71, n. 27; for rituals for calming an enemy’s anger and success at court, see SCHWEMER, Abwehrzauber und Behexung, 128, and STADHOUDERS, Time to Rejoice; for a leather pouch for inflicting ‘seizing-of-the-mouth’ (kadabbedû) on an adversary, see SpTU II, 22 + III, 85 rev. IV 11–12 (cf. SCHWEMER, Abwehrzauber und Behexung, 129); for rituals to force back runaway slaves, see LKA 135 obv. 11–16 (cf. also BM 40482); for a short ritual that would ensure the obedience of slaves, see BM 36330 l. e. 27–30 (cf. SCHWEMER, Ancient Near East, 40). For Sm 1379, a small fragment with behavioural omens referring to the performance of aggressive magic and witchcraft, see SCHWEMER, Abwehrzauber und Behexung, 159–60 (an almost equally fragmentary duplicate of this text has now been identified by H. STADHOUDERS in the Babylon collection of the British Museum). 68 But note that a (pseudepigraphic?) request by Ashurbanipal for collecting tablets from Babylonian libraries explicitly includes rituals of the genre é-gal-ku4-ra; see CT (BM) 22, 1: 22, ed. FRAME/GEORGE, Royal Libraries, 280–81.
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symbolic gestures across the Middle East and the Eastern Mediterranean. But since the Greek and Mesopotamian texts in which these similarities can be observed are, as texts, dissimilar and clearly unrelated to each other, the diffusion of these motifs remains, necessarily, an ill-defined process that was probably fairly removed from our actual sources. The isolated way in which the name of Ereškigal is used in the Greek magical texts confirms the hypothesis of a distant relationship. Closer contacts and mutual influences may be attested in the Hellenistic Period, especially in the area of astral magic. But the interpretation of the exorcist’s almanacs as evidence of a transformative influence of Greek magic on Mesopotamian āšipūtu from the seventh century onward does not, in my view, stand up to scrutiny. By way of conclusion, I would like to emphasise the narrow scope of the present study which was concerned with a very limited body of texts. There can be no doubt that a more comprehensive comparative approach to Mesopotamian, Egyptian and Greek magical texts would reveal more common traditions and motifs between these bodies of texts,69 even though the scarcity of relevant sources from second and first millennium Syria will always hamper our understanding of the diffusion of Mesopotamian magical lore in the Eastern Mediterranean and beyond.
69 Examples have, of course, already been identified. Apart from the contributions mentioned above (especially by E. REINER and C. FARAONE), cf., e.g., FISCHER-ELFERT, Sāmānu, or various remarks on the similarities between the use of magic stones in Mesopotamian āšipūtu and in Pliny’s Naturalis historia in SCHUSTER-BRANDIS, Steine (147 with n. 381; 425 with n. 810).
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Appendix 1 Tabular overview of the hemerological data in STT 300 (consecutive numbering of rituals by the author): No. Month Day 1 i 1–30 2 1–30 3 4 [?]–30 5 10 6 21 7 21 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 ii 10 15 12 16 17 13 18
iii
19 20 21 22 23 24 25
ii, iii iv
26 27 28 29 30 31
v
Ritual purpose Acquiring potency Acquiring and calming head-illness Loosening an adversary’s grip Removing lilû-demon and epilepsy Changing someone’s mind ‘Distortion-of-justice’ magic Undoing witchcraft Illness not to approach a man Curing (a disease of) the head Dispelling raʾību-disease Healing a wound Stopping a woman’s bleeding Evil not to approach a house Loosening an adversary’s grip Undoing a curse Keeping a curse away from a man Removing lilû- and ardat lilîdemons 10 Making a man fall in love with a woman 21 Making a woman fall in love with a man 4 Removing illness 30 Hate-magic 30 Making a man fall in love with a woman 1–30 Love-magic Succeeding at court 10 Making a man fall in love with a man 21 Attracting a woman 12 Removing lilû- and ardat lilîdemons 21, 29 Undoing love-magic(?) affecting a man 10 ‘Cutting-of-the-throat’ magic 10 Causing ‘vertigo’ 29! Removing various forms of epilepsy, ‘hand-of-a-god’ and ‘hand-of-aghost’
Akkadian terminology ŠÀ.ZI.GA SA[ G].KI.DA[ B] TUK-e
ù [n]u-[u]ḫ-ḫi
Š[ U?].[D] U8?.⸢A?⸣
[ LÍL].LÁ.EN.NA AN.TA.[ ŠU] B.[ B] A ⸢ZI⸣-ḫi ŠÀ. BAL.BAL DI.B[ AL].A UŠ11.BÚR.DA
⸢ana⸣ NA G[ IG]-⸢šú⸣ NU TE-e SAG.D[ U] ana TI-ṭi
⸢ra-i-ib-šu⸣ [ana š]u-ṣi-i [s]i-im-ma ana T[ I-ṭ]i MÚD MUNUS ana KU5-si ḪUL ana É NU TE-e ŠU.DU8.A NAM.⸢ÉRIM.BÚR⸣.DA [NA]M.ÉRIM ana LÚ KU5-si LÍL. LÁ.EN.NA KI.SIKIL LÍL. LÁ. EN.NA Z[ I]ḫi KI.⸢ÁG⸣ NITA ana MUNUS KI.⸢ÁG.GÁ⸣ MUNUS ana [NI] TA G[ IG?] ⸢ZI?-ḫi?⸣ ḪUL.GIG KI. ÁG NITA ana MUNUS KI.⸢ÁG⸣ É.GAL. KU4.RA KI. ÁG NITA ana NITA
[MUNUS GIN].NA LÍL. LÁ.EN.NA KI.SIKIL LÍL. LÁ. EN.⸢NA⸣ ZI-
ḫi [ KI?.Á] G? NITA ana MUNUS ana [ B]ÚR-ri [ Z] I.⸢KU5⸣.[R] U.DA IGI.NIGIN.NA AN.[ T] A.⸢ŠUB.BA⸣ be-en-nu d⸢lugal-ir9⸣-ra ŠU.DINGIR.RA ŠU.⸢GIDIM⸣.MA ZI-ḫi
80 32 33 34
35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57
Daniel Schwemer vi
iv, v
–
vii
10 11, 21 16–20 16, 17
17 21 vi, vii – viii
58 59 60
10! 21 24
10 21 22
28
viii
28 28
61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71
KIMIN
Purification by the river ordeal Succeeding at court Rituals for entrusting a person to a ghost (but negated in this text!)
d
⸢ÍD⸣ KÙ.GA
É.GAL. KU4.RA
⸢GIDIM⸣ DAB-ti KI LÚ ana NU KÉŠ!(ka) NU LÚ ana ÚŠ NU pa-qá- ana ŠÉŠ-ši ana NAG.NAG-e Dispelling losses šu-ṣi-i Frightening a female rival DAM.TAB. BA pur-ru-di Removing a man from his position ù LÚ ina KI.GUB-šú ZI-ḫi Calming an adversary’s anger ŠÚR!(sag).ḪUN.GÁ Attracting a woman MUNUS GIN.NA ‘Cutting-of-the-throat’ magic ZI.KU5.⸢RU⸣.DA Attracting a woman MUNUS GIN.NA Inviting a god or a goddess DINGIR ana qé-re-e d15 MIN Curing sagallu-disease SA.GAL ana TI-ṭi Purifying a house É ana ḫu-up-pi lú Confining an ill person GIG ana e-se-ri (~ Bīt mēseri) Curing an anal disease DÚR.GIG ana TI-ṭi Curing a bladder stone NA4 ana TI-ṭi Stopping bowel movements ŠÀ.SI.SÁ ana ka-le-e Removing a fever KÚM-ma ana ZI-ḫi lú Confining an ill person GIG ana e-se-ri Having a good reputation in the LÚ ina É.GAL MU.NE ana MUNUS.SIG5 MU palace Removing a man from his office ana LÚ ina qí-ip-ti-šu ZI-ḫi Setting a man against another man LÚ ina IGI LÚ GAR-ni Being in good repute with a prince NUN ina É.GAL MU.NE ana SIG5-ti MU Being popular and attractive IGI-ka [ana I]GI-ka SÙ!(muš) lú Confining an ill person GIG ana e-se-ri Removing lilû- and ardat lilîLÍL. LÁ.EN.NA KI.SIKIL LÍL. LÁ. EN.NA ZI-ḫi demons Nobles not being receptive to slan- IDIM u ⸢NUN⸣ EME!(ka).SIG NU GABA.RI der Not encountering slander NU IGI šil-la-ta Making a man rise against another LÚ IGI ⸢ LÚ⸣ ZI-e man Calming an adversary’s anger ŠÚR.ḪUN.GÁ Not being receptive to slander NU! GABA.RI Causing a dead person to depart lu ÚŠ ⸢TAG4⸣ Against a warlock(?) ⸢lu lúUŠ11⸣.Z[ U] Against a witch(?) [lu munusUŠ11.Z] U Making a prophetess speak(?) lu! MUNUS! DINGIR! DU11.DU1 Removing a magnate from the ⸢lu⸣ IDIM ina É.GAL ZI-ḫi palace Seizing the ‘heart’ ana ŠÀ DAB.DAB Seizing a man’s head SAG.DU LÚ ana DAB-[tim] Alienating a beloved man from a [ L] Ú ÁG LÚ ana KU5-si man Alienating a beloved woman from a MUNUS ÁG KI MUNUS ana KU5-si woman
Beyond Ereškigal? Mesopotamian Magic Traditions in the Papyri Graecae Magicae 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81
viii
ix
–
10 21
12 [?]
Purifying a man ‘Distortion-of-justice’ magic ‘Seizing-of-the-mouth’ magic Undoing witchcraft Unclear Making a woman talk (love magic) Having a good reputation Having a good reputation
‘Seizing-of-the-mouth’ magic Causing someone to abandon his plans or knowing about them(?) 82 ix [?] Removing lilû- and ardat lilîdemons 83 ‘Seizing-of-the-mouth’ magic 84 x [10] Locating treasure 85 11 Gaining a god’s favour 86 Soothing a god’s anger 87 21 Slaves not to flee 88 Slaves to be true to their master 89 Gaining a god’s favour 90 Soothing a god’s anger 91 12 ‘Cutting-of-the-throat’ magic 92 Removing lilû- and ardat lilîdemons 93 xi 10 For a wife not to be attracted by other men 94 21 Hate-magic 95 ‘Distortion-of-justice’ magic 96 xii 27 Undoing witchcraft 97 28 Keeping evil away from a house 98 29 Brisk trade for a tavern 99 Unclear, concerning a (harbour?) tavern 100 x, xi 21 Slaves not to flee 101 Slaves to be true to their master 102 xi, xii 27 Undoing witchcraft 103 xi, xii – Uncanonical spells 104 i–xii 27–29 (Dispelling) an evil demon
81
LÚ ina KI ⸢kib⸣-ra ŠU.GUR-ri DI.BAL. A KA.DAB.BÉ.DA
ana BÚR-ri x [MUNUS] DU11.DU11 a-mir-ka ŠU.SI ana SIG5-tim ta-ra-ṣi [ana] ⸢SIG5⸣-ka ŠU.SI ⸢SIG5⸣-ti ana ⸢ta⸣-raṣi KA.DAB.BÉ.DA qí-b[it K] A-šú ana šu-ud-di-i ù lu ZU UŠ11
IGI x
LÍL. LÁ.EN.NA KI.SIKIL LÍL. LÁ. EN.NA ZI-ḫi KA.DAB.BÉ.DA ši-kin KÙ.SI22 KÙ.BABBAR DINGIR IGI.BAR DINGIR.ŠÀ.DAB.⸢BA⸣ BÚR ⸢ÌR NA⸣ NU Z[ ÁḪ] ŠÀ ÌR u GÉME KÚR DINGIR IGI.BAR DINGIR.ŠÀ.DAB.BA BÚR-ri ⸢ZI.KU5.RU.DA⸣ [ L] ÍL. LÁ.EN.NA KI.SIKIL LÍL. LÁ. EN.NA ZIḫi MUNUS [ana NIT] A ⸢IGI NU ÍL⸣ ḪUL.GIG DI.BAL. A UŠ11.BÚR.RU.DA GÌR [ Ḫ] UL-tim
ina É NA KU5-si iš-di-iḫ LÚ.KÚRUN.NA sa-da-ri É kur a x [x i]š-⸢di-iḫ LÚ.KÚRUN⸣.NA ⸢KAR? TUK!??⸣ ÌR NA NU ZÁḪ ŠÀ ÌR u GÉME NU KÚR UŠ11.BÚR.RU.DA TU6.TU6 BAR.RA SAG. ḪUL. ḪA.ZA
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Appendix 2 Tabular overview of the preserved sections of BRM IV, 19 (numbering of rituals indicates correspondences to STT 300): No. Month Day 54
viii
10
55
viii
21
77
ix
10
78
ix
21
84
x
10
87 88 93
x
21
xi
10
94
xi
21
96 97 98 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 17 27
xii xii xii i
27 28 29 21
Zodiacal sign Scorpio (viii) Scorpio (viii) Sagittarius (ix) Sagittarius (ix) Capricorn (x) Capricorn (x) Aquarius (xi) Aquarius (xi) Pisces (xii) Pisces (xii) Pisces (xii) Aries (i)
10°
MicroRitual purpose zodiacal sign Pisces (xii) 10° Being in good repute with a prince
21°
Leo (v)
3°
10°
Aries (i)
10° Making a woman talk
21°
Virgo (vi)
3°
10°
Taurus (ii)
10° Locating treasure
21°
Libra (vii)
3°
21°
Slaves not to flee Slaves to be true to their master Gemini (iii) 10° For a wife not to be attracted by other men Scorpio (viii) 3° Hate-magic
27° 28° 29° 21°
Aquarius (xi) Pisces (xii) Pisces (xii) Capricorn (x)
21° 4° 17° 3°
ii iv
12 12
Taurus (ii) 12° Cancer (iv) 12°
Libra (vii) Sagittarius (ix) Leo (v)
6° 6°
31
v
29
Leo (v)
29°
34 35
vi
24
Virgo (vi)
24°
41 42 43 44 45
vii vii
11 16
Libra (vii) Libra (vii)
11° 16°
10°
Being popular and attractive
Having a good reputation
Undoing witchcraft Keeping evil away from a house Brisk trade for a tavern; eclipse Undoing witchcraft Illness not to approach a man Curing (a disease of) the head Dispelling raʾību-disease Healing a wound Stopping a woman’s bleeding Evil not to approach a house Removing lilû- and ardat lilî-demons Removing lilû- and ardat lilî-demons
17° Removing various forms of epilepsy, ‘hand-of-a-god’ and ‘hand-of-a-ghost’ Cancer (iv) 12° Rituals for entrusting a person to a ghost Dispelling losses Aquarius (xi) 23° Attracting a woman Aries (i) 28° Inviting a god or a goddess Curing sagallu-disease Purifying a house Confining an ill person
Beyond Ereškigal? Mesopotamian Magic Traditions in the Papyri Graecae Magicae 46 47 48 58
viii
18
59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71
viii
21
80
ix
12
85 86 36
[x]
[11]
[iv/v]
[…]
Scorpio (viii) Scorpio (viii)
18°
Gemini (iii)
Curing an anal disease Curing a bladder stone Stopping bowel movements 24° Nobles not being receptive to slander
21°
Leo (v)
3°
Taurus (ii)
6°
Taurus (ii)
23° Gaining a god’s favour Soothing a god’s anger […] Frightening a female rival
Sagittarius 12° (ix) [Capricorn [11°] (x)] [Cancer/Leo […] (iv/v)]
[Capricorn (x)]
83
Not encountering slander Setting a man against another man Calming an adversary’s anger Not being receptive to slander Causing a dead person to depart Against a warlock(?) Against a witch(?) Making a prophetess speak(?) Removing a magnate from the palace Seizing the ‘heart’ Seizing a man’s head Alienating a beloved man from the king Alienating a beloved woman from a woman ‘Seizing-of-the-mouth’ magic
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Appendix 3 Tabular overview of BRM IV, 20 (numbering of rituals indicates correspondences to STT 300): No. 5 6 14 15 18 19 25 26 29 30 32 33 38 54 51 55 77 78 84 87 93 94 96 97 98 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 17
Ritual purpose Changing someone’s mood ‘Distortion-of-justice’ magic Loosening an adversary’s grip Undoing a curse Making a man fall in love with a woman Making a woman fall in love with a man Making a man fall in love with a man Attracting a woman ‘Cutting-of-the-throat’ magic
Constellation Leo (v) Aquarius (xi) Virgo (vi) Aquarius (xi) Libra (vii)
Relation to month Micro-zodiac Micro-zodiac Micro-zodiac Micro-zodiac Micro-zodiac
Pisces (xii)
Micro-zodiac
Scorpio (viii) Aries (i) Sagittarius (ix); Gemini (iii)
‘Averting-the-face’ magic (or vertigo?) Purification by the river ordeal Succeeding at court Calming an adversary’s anger Being in good repute with the king Having a good reputation in the palace Being popular and attractive Making a woman talk Having a good reputation Locating treasure To return a runaway (slave)
Gemini (iii)
Micro-zodiac Micro-zodiac Micro-zodiac; unclear Micro-zodiac
For a wife not to be attracted by other men Hate-magic Undoing witchcraft Keeping evil away from a house Brisk trade for a tavern Undoing witchcraft Illness not to approach a man Curing (a disease of) the head Dispelling raʾību-disease Healing a wound Stopping a woman’s bleeding Evil not to approach a house Removing lilû-demon
Capricorn (x) Cancer (iv) Aquarius (xi) 5° before […] Pisces (xii) Leo (v) Aries (i) Virgo (vi) Taurus (ii) Leo (v); Libra (vii) Gemini (iii)
Micro-zodiac Micro-zodiac Micro-zodiac Unclear Micro-zodiac Micro-zodiac Micro-zodiac Micro-zodiac Micro-zodiac Unclear; microzodiac Micro-zodiac
Scorpio (viii) Aquarius (xi); Pisces (xii) Taurus (ii); Aquarius (xi) Cancer (iv); Aquarius (xi) Capricorn (x)
Micro-zodiac Micro-zodiac; zodiac Unclear; unclear Unclear; unclear Micro-zodiac
Taurus (ii); Libra (vii)
Zodiac; micro-zodiac
Beyond Ereškigal? Mesopotamian Magic Traditions in the Papyri Graecae Magicae 17 17 31 34 35 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 70 71
80 2 1 – 100 85 86 36 37 52 53
Removing the ardat lilî-demon
Taurus (ii); Gemini (iii); Sagittarius (ix) Removing lilû- and ardat lilî-demons Sagittarius (ix) Removing various forms of epilepsy, Leo (v) ‘hand-of-a-god’ and ‘hand-of-a-ghost’ Rituals for entrusting a person to a Cancer (iv) ghost Dispelling losses Attracting a woman Libra (vii) Inviting a god or a goddess [Aries] (i) Curing sagallu-disease Purifying a house Confining an ill person Curing an anal disease Curing a bladder stone Stopping bowel movements Removing a fever Nobles not being receptive to slander Gemini (iii) Not encountering slander [Leo] (v) Making a man rise against another man Calming an adversary’s anger Not being receptive to slander Causing a dead person to depart Against a warlock(?) Against a witch(?) Making a prophetess speak(?) Removing a magnate from the palace Alienating a beloved man from the king Alienating a beloved woman from a woman ‘Seizing-of-the-mouth’ magic [Taurus (ii)] Acquiring and calming head-illness […] Acquiring potency […] Consent of the king […] Slaves not to flee Scorpio (viii) Gaining a god’s favour Taurus (ii) Soothing a god’s anger Frightening a female rival Capricorn (x) Removing a man from his position Removing a man from his office Aries (i) Setting a man against another man
Zodiac; unclear; unclear Unclear Micro-zodiac Micro-zodiac
Zodiac Micro-zodiac
Micro-zodiac Micro-zodiac
Micro-zodiac Unclear Unclear Unclear Micro-zodiac Micro-zodiac Micro-zodiac Micro-zodiac
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PART II CULTURAL PLURALITY AND FUSION IN THE GRAECO-EGYPTIAN MAGICAL PAPYRI (PGM/PDM)
SINGLE HANDBOOKS AND MAGICAL TECHNIQUES
Compiling P. Lond. I 121 = PGM VII in a Transcultural Context1 RICHARD GORDON The complex transcultural resources drawn upon by the so-called Greek magical papyri have exercised scholars almost since the dawn of serious papyrology.2 Yet, apart from the Demotic texts, of paramount importance for their linguistic interest, the genre was, until the ’80s and ’90s of the last century, almost entirely ignored by Egyptologists, for whom these texts were simply too late and too hybrid.3 Almost all the scholars involved in the creation of the first edition of KARL PREISENDANZ’s Papyri Graecae Magicae: Die griechischen Zauberpapyri, such as ADAM ABT, LUDWIG FAHZ, RICHARD WÜNSCH and later SAM EITREM, were highly skilled Hellenists with a special interest in Greek religion; apart from PREISENDANZ himself, none were professional Greek papyrologists.4 Given that ALBRECHT DIETERICH (†1908), the spiritus rector of 1
I thank the organisers for the invitation to the stimulating conference in Heidelberg and for their careful comments on previous drafts. This paper covers some of the same ground as RAQUEL MARTÍN, Coherent Division, which was written at much the same time, but quite independently. I have attempted to incorporate her results into my argument. In keeping with usages found in these texts, I regularly use the italicised terms praxis/pragma/stele (or their plural forms) to denote what are often termed individual ‘spells’, a word I try to avoid. When the word ‘praxis’ occurs without italics, I intend it in the abstract Foucaldian sense, to denote this knowledge-practice as a whole. 2 GORISSEN, Ontwikkelingsgang; BRASHEAR, Greek Magical Papyri, 3398–408; more briefly FOWDEN, Egyptian Hermes, 168–72. PREISENDANZ seems originally to have considered using the title Corpus Papyrorum Magicarum, which would have been a better choice, though still too narrow: PREISENDANZ/HENRICHS (eds.), Papyri Graecae Magicae I, viii. The term ‘griech. Zauberpapyri’ goes back to the Copticist GUSTAV PARTHEY’s edition of the two Berlin papyri in 1865 (PARTHEY, Zwei griechische Zauberpapyri). 3 Demotic: apart from GRIFFITH/THOMPSON, Demotic Magical Papyrus, note JOHNSON, Leiden I 384; JOHNSON, Louvre E 3229; also BRASHEAR, Greek Magical Papyri, 3396–8; DIELEMAN, Priests, 11–16, 25–9, 40–41. J.F. QUACK is organising in Heidelberg a completely new edition of the Demotic magical texts. As for Coptic, once ADOLF ERMAN became too old to help, PREISENDANZ recruited GEORG MÖLLER to edit the relevant sections, but he died prematurely in 1919 and was replaced by the Luxemburg Copticist ADOLF JACOBY, with some help from Father ANGELICUS KROPP: PREISENDANZ/HENRICHS (eds.), Papyri Graecae Magicae I, ix; II, vi. Numerous detailed, though often far-fetched, suggestions, esp. about voces magicae, were made in reviews by the Gymnasium teacher K.F.W. SCHMIDT in the 1930s, e.g. SCHMIDT, Review of PREISENDANZ/HENRICHS (eds.). 4 Several of the earliest transcriptions, on which PREISENDANZ and his team relied heavily, were however made by scholars we would now call papyrologists, such as GUSTAV PARTHEY, CARL WESSELY and FREDERICK KENYON. SAM EITREM taught himself papyrology in order to edit P. Oslo 1 =
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the original enterprise (which was to have taken the form of a plain Teubner edition), had viewed these texts as ‘griechische Zauberpapyri’,5 it was thus more or less inevitable that the most significant early responses to PGM were also written by philologically-trained historians of later Greek religion, for whom the Egyptian content was more or less impenetrable or irrelevant to their interests.6 The poetic sections in particular were considered part of the history of Greek hymns – even by ULRICH WILA7 MOWITZ-MÖLLENDORFF, for whom these texts were otherwise beyond the pale. During the long interval between the completion of a preliminary draft of PGM vol. I (1913) and the final publication in 1928, T. HOPFNER had not only already edited many of the texts but also brought out their syncretistic Egyptian-Greek character.8 His work however was almost totally ignored (for understandable reasons) until REINHOLD MERKELBACH arranged for a type-written edition to be published (1974–1990).9 By PGM XXXVI (publ. 1925), and contributed considerably to the improvement through autopsy of the readings of the large formularies in Paris, Berlin and London: EITREM, Papyrus magiques; EITREM, Berliner Zauberpapyri; EITREM, Greek Magical Papyri. 5 See already the introduction to his Bonn dissertation (1888), which was a re-edition of C. LEEMAN’s version of PGM XII: DIETERICH, Prolegomena. DIETERICH used to read texts from the magical papyri in his Oberseminar, well aware that they were despised by the great majority of Hellenists. His justification was based on their value for Religions- and Kulturgeschichte, i.e. new types of approach to Classical and post-Classical antiquity. The suggestion that a German translation be included for readers who might not be familiar with Greek and Coptic came from RICHARD WÜNSCH, who had edited a small selection of interesting defixiones for school use: PREISENDANZ/HENRICHS (eds.), Papyri Graecae Magicae I, ix. 6 NOCK, Greek Magical Papyri; FESTUGIÈRE, Valeur religieuse; EITREM, ‘Papyrologie und Religionsgeschichte’; EITREM, Magische Gemmen; NILSSON, Religion. 7 DIETERICH had previously (DIETERICH, Abraxas, 97–101) commented on several of the hymns, e.g. the ‘hymn to Helios’ in PGM IV 939–48, and wanted to edit them himself: PREISENDANZ/HENRICHS (eds.), Papyri Graecae Magicae I, viii. After the death of RICHARD WÜNSCH on the Russian Front in 1915, they were eventually edited by PREISENDANZ and published in an appendix to vol. II (1934); most of his versions were however replaced by ALBERT HENRICHS in the 1973–1974 edition with the texts created by HEITSCH, Griechische Dichterfragmente. For WILAMOWITZ’s not always brilliant comments on PGM XII 244–52 = Hymnen 1, see VON WILAMOWITZMÖLLENDORF, Commentariolum, 30. 8 The publication of vol. I of Papyri Graecae Magicae was delayed for years not just by the deaths of key individuals but also by uncertain readings (esp. of the Berlin texts [5025, 5026] and P. Mimaut) and financial problems. The two volumes of HOPFNER, Offenbarungszauber (1921–1924) were originally issued in a version in CARL WESSELY’s own hand-writing and were not only extremely difficult to read but offered no translation. Though no Egyptologist, SAM EITREM too was very aware of the Egyptian context and used the term ‘syncretistic’ already in the 1920s: EITREM, Rituelle διαβολή; EITREM, Sonnenkäfer. 9 I know nothing about the relations between HOPFNER and PREISENDANZ. The latter did however reprint in vol. III three texts from WESSELY’s collection that HOPFNER had edited, and made use of his work for the Index: PREISENDANZ/HENRICHS (eds.), Papyri Graecae Magicae II, ix. He also specifically mentions HOPFNER’s successive contributions to Archiv Orientální on Egyptian divine names in the papyri. Vol. II of the first edition (1931) contained only PGM nos. VII–LX + 20 Christian texts and the ‘hymns’; nos. LXI–LXXXI were due to appear in vol. III, all the blocks of which were destroyed by the bombing of the Teubner printing-house in Leipzig in 1941, though fortunately a set of proofs survived and the new texts at least were added by HENRICHS to vol. II2.
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that time, though, it had been rendered largely superfluous, not just by the succession of papers published after the Second World War by the now elderly PREISENDANZ insisting on the syncretistic character of the texts,10 but by a series of individual studies by Egyptologists demonstrating Pharaonic antecedents for specific passages and practices in the formularies.11 We should here add the tireless work of two Greek papyrologists, WILLIAM BRASHEAR in Berlin and P.J. SIJPESTEIJN at Leiden, in reinforcing awareness of the Egyptian cultural context through their publication of new texts.12 The latter indeed, by including magical gems among his interests, contributed significantly to the modern recognition that no clear division can be drawn between the praxis attested by the texts on papyrus, ostraka and lead and the amuletic texts/images on semi-precious stones.13 The decisive step in forcing recognition of the Egyptological frame of the magical papyri was however the decision by HANS-DIETER BETZ not only to include in GMPT (1985) translations of the Demotic texts but to recruit ROBERT RITNER to add numerous explanatory Egyptological footnotes to the English translations.14 This move corrected one of the most serious errors in the basic planning of PGM, though the older ‘activated’ texts on materials other than papyrus and ostraka were still omitted, a failure that was only made good by the editors of Supplementum Magicum, who finally decided to ignore the narrow papyrological limitation.15 Even so, their decision could hardly be retrospective, with the result that there 10
PREISENDANZ, Zur Überlieferungsgeschichte; PREISENDANZ, Zur synkretistischen Magie; PREISENDANZ, Zur Überlieferung. PREISENDANZ had himself used the expression ‘synkretistische Zaubertexte’ already in 1934 (PREISENDANZ/HENRICHS (eds.), Papyri Graecae Magicae II, ix), though in these earlier years he usually preferred the briefer ‘Zauberliteratur’, ‘~papyri’, and omitted the descriptive adjective. The original intention had been to include in vol. II more informative commentaries, perhaps analogous to those in GMPT, but they all had to be removed on grounds of cost, which delayed publication by a further year: PREISENDANZ/HENRICHS (eds.), Papyri Graecae Magicae II, v. 11 SAUNERON, Aspects et sort; RITOÓK, Neuer griechischer Zauberpapyrus; BERGMAN, Egyptian Theogony; BERGMAN, Nephthys découverte; RAVEN, Wax; PODEMANN SØRENSEN, Argument; KOENEN, Dream of Nektanebos. MARTIN SICHERL’s Prague dissertation (SICHERL, Tiere), directed by HOPFNER, was a casualty of the war years and remained virtually unknown; I owe my copy to the kindness of BILL BRASHEAR. 12 BRASHEAR, Berliner Zauberpapyrus; BRASHEAR, Zauberformular; BRASHEAR, Neues Zauberensemble; BRASHEAR, Magica Varia; BRASHEAR, Magical and Divinatory Texts; SIJPESTEIJN, Herbeirufungszauber; SIJPESTEIJN, Four Magical Gems; SIJPESTEIJN, Amulett gegen Skorpionstich; SIJPESTEIJN, Liebeszauber; SIJPESTEIJN, Einige Bemerkungen. 13 Despite PREISENDANZ’s Index and CAMPBELL BONNER’s explicit subtitle Magical Amulets, Chiefly Graeco-Egyptian (BONNER, SMA), gems were long filed away in a different mental compartment until the expansion of museum staffs made proper catalogues available, cf. esp. PHILIPP, Mira et magica (Berlin); MICHEL, Gemmen im Britischen Museum; MASTROCINQUE, Intailles magiques. See now the digital data-base co-ordinated by Dr. ÁRPÁD NAGY (Budapest) in the CAMPBELL BONNER project. This is not to say that magical gems were not also cut elsewhere, for example in Syrian workshops. 14 Apart from RITNER, Uterine Amulet (1984), most of his work on the practice of Egyptian magic was however published after GMPT (1985). 15 The basic design of PGM was actually decided off-hand by RICHARD WÜNSCH after DIETERICH’s death (PREISENDANZ/HENRICHS (eds.), Papyri Graecae Magicae I, ix; II, v ‘offenbar willkür-
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is even now no adequate collection of all texts belonging to the style of magical practice we term Graeco-Egyptian magic – the digital re-edition of the papyrus formularies currently planned in Chicago, however welcome, looks set to repeat the same mistake by ignoring ‘activated’ documents.16
1. Graeco-Egyptian magical texts: a working model The Graeco-Egyptian magical texts pose three major problems: 1. What is their relation to earlier Egyptian temple-practice in various languagephases and scripts? 2. Why are they written largely in Greek? 3. How is their syncretistic character best understood? It has long been recognised that in Pharaonic Egypt, a steeply hierarchical society with a specialised scribal-priestly class, the word Hk#, which most nearly approaches the term ‘magic’, is both the name of a divinity with cosmic reach and a substantive meaning roughly ‘powerful/effective speech’.17 High-ranking temple-priests disposed of the knowledge required to compose effective ritual texts, knowledge that might be employed positively (for protecting the king, a temple, a house or a tomb; for warding off snakes and scorpions; for healing) or negatively (for example, to destroy the enemies of Egypt).18 However ritual knowledge of a related order was not confined to the senior temple priesthood, since we hear of several other types of magical specialists, including ‘magicians’ (zᴈw or sᴈw), amulet-makers and medical practitioners specialising in afflictions caused by harmful spirits.19 We should probably allow for a wide range of practices and specialisms, within and outwith an institutional framework, the basic assumption being that those who dispose of the ritual knowledge of how to protect and cure are equally in a position to effect harm. Given the appropriate cosmological frame, ritual action in favour of A against B is, from B’s point of view, aggression by A. Especially in conflictual situations, there can only be claims and counter-claims, whose resolution, if any, is achieved through the working-out of asymmetrical social relations, i.e. the socially weaker party loses. ‘Events will be constructed and interpreted differently, depending on whether the active self is practitioner, victim, accused,
lich nach unklarem Plan angelegt’) which explains i.a. the odd decision to begin with the two longer Berlin papyri instead of e.g. P. Bibl. Nat. suppl. gr. 574 (PGM IV), P. Louvre 2391 (P. Mimaut = PGM III) or the two Leiden papyri (J 384 = PGM XII; J 395 = PGM XIII), all of which are far more important – WÜNSCH was outspokenly kaisertreu. It was impossible subsequently to change the order, since many of the slips for the Indices to vol. I had already been filled out by 1912. 16 See n. 80 below. 17 GUTEKUNST, Zauber. 18 KÁKOSY, Magia nell᾿antico Egitto; KOENIG, Magie et magiciens; KOENIG (ed.), Magie en Égypte; THEIS, Magie und Raum, esp. 64–257; THEIS, Defensive Magie; MAAßEN, Schlangen. A brief survey of literary genres: ALTENMÜLLER, Magische Literatur; a well-illustrated overview of the archaeological evidence in the Rijksmuseum exhibition catalogue: RAVEN, Egyptische Magie. 19 See recently THEIS, Magie und Raum, 49–58.
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or quite unrelated to what is going on.’20 This conflictual or real-world aspect of Pharaonic magic is, with partial exceptions such as the Harem conspiracy against Ramses III (c. 1182–1151 BCE), the ‘ritual of breaking the red pots’ (sḍ dšrwt) and a variety of other objects employed in execration rituals, lost to us.21 If our knowledge of Dynastic magical practice is limited, the situation with regard to the post-Saite Period (after 664 BCE) is downright poor. Nevertheless it seems from J.F. QUACK’s work on the Book of the Temple that in larger temples at any rate the formal organisation of ritual life continued well into the Roman Period.22 He has also established that there is at least some continuity in the copying of magical recipes in Demotic throughout the Ptolemaic and into the Roman Period, while some apparently ‘late’ developments can already be found in one form or another in the Saite od.23 On the other hand, so far as is known, no specifically magical texts have turned up in the few temple-libraries, such as that at Tebtynis, which have been excavated. The transition to specifically Graeco-Egyptian styles thus remains obscure. We are thus obliged to operate with more general considerations. ROBERT RITNER has maintained that there is a direct continuity between Dynastic, i.e. temple-based, magical practice and the Graeco-Egyptian material;24 yet his chief evidence consists of a limited number of specific practices such as impersonation of a deity by the practitioner, threats to divinity, ‘ingestion of script’ and purity procedures. This simple position is impossible to sustain in view of the complexity of the new transcultural resources and the shift to Greek. DAVID FRANKFURTER has argued that temple-scriptoria were directly responsible for producing the Graeco-Egyptian texts, at any rate the longer formularies.25 A decade or two earlier, however, J.Z. SMITH had inferred from the formularies, which seem to assume individual practitioners conducting their rituals in private dwellings, that Graeco-Egyptian practice was no longer based on the temple.26 Working from the Greek side, C.A. FARAONE has argued that it was the appropriation by Egyptian practitioners of collections of Greek magical charms and incantations in 20
ELLEN, Introduction, 7. Harem conspiracy and similar events: RITNER, Mechanics, 199–201; KOENIG, Magie et magiciens, 165–6. Red pots: the best account is still VAN DIJK, New Kingdom Necropolis, 173–88, cf. VAN DIJK, Birth of Horus, 23–5 (on the possible psycho-social effects); see also RITNER, Mechanics, 144–53; QUACK, Ägyptische Einflüsse, 31–2; on the colour red: WARAKSA, Female Figurines, 106–13. Briefly on other execration rituals: ÉTIENNE, Heka, 35–51. For some cases of protection against perceived enemies see now QUACK, Reinigen. 22 QUACK, Buch vom Tempel; QUACK, Magie au temple. 23 QUACK, So-Called Pantheos; QUACK, Demotische magische und divinatorische Texte; QUACK, From Ritual to Magic; also his unpublished paper The Historical Development of Demotic Magic, given at the conference Egyptian and Jewish Magic in Antiquity: Contexts, Contacts, Continuities and Comparisons, organised by G. Bohak, R. Lucarelli and A. Bellusci, Bonn 5–9 July 2015. 24 RITNER, Mechanics; RITNER, Egyptian Magical Practice. 25 FRANKFURTER, Religion, 210–14; cf. DIELEMAN, Priests, 286 (on P. Mag. LL). 26 J.Z. SMITH, Temple; cf. J.Z. SMITH, Trading Places. οἶκος, the usual word employed, can also mean any sort of dwelling, including a room attached to a temple. RITNER, Egyptian Magical Practice, 3354, duly pointed out that it had always been the case that priests offered magical services outside the temple in their free time. It is not at all the case, however, that Graeco-Egyptian magic is ‘just the same’ as Pharaonic/Ptolemaic, and it is these shifts that must be explained. 21
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verse circulating in Egypt during the late Hellenistic Period that prompted the gradual creation of a new synthetic style of practice.27 Still more recently LYNN LIDONNICI seems to work with a model of recipes owned not by ritual specialists but by private individuals for performing their own rituals, primarily for divination and prosperity.28 A major problem in all this has been the relatively late date both of the major formularies and the activated texts. Despite the massive loss of Ptolemaic- and early Roman-Period papyri, a handful of early magical papyri in Greek has been published.29 By far the most interesting of these is a text of the Augustan period that deploys several Egyptian features amounting to much more than simply invoking Egyptian deities but also includes a hexametric erotic praxis based on apple-throwing and another that includes a mini-narrative borrowed from the Greek trope of cursing: it is in fact by far the earliest evidence for the explicit programme of combining templetechniques with themes taken from Greek erotic lore. 30 The first century CE offers slightly more evidence for the development of this new style in different res,31 while the earliest evidence for the sophisticated stylistic features typical of Graeco-Egyptian practice, paragraphic devices, palindromes and charakteres, rather belongs to the early second century. As FARAONE has argued, the very earliest docu27
FARAONE, Handbooks, 195–7, 209–13. LIDONNICI, Compositional Patterns, 155, apparently imagines the first section (A) of her subformulary 2 (PGM IV 154–466) as appropriate to a private household: ‘A short roll with one really good divination and one really good erotic binding spell might have been a desirable item in many households’, cf. her Disappearing Magician. Although longer formularies contain an often bizarre mixture of different praxeis, it seems to me out of the question to imagine that such rituals could have been performed by individuals untrained in one or other of the relevant traditions (cf. FRANKFURTER, Dynamics) – we are not talking here about charms or magical methods that are local common knowledge. That does not imply that the texts of my category 3 were intended for practical use; indeed, I think a practical intention can be generally excluded. 29 The list in BRASHEAR, Greek Magical Papyri, 3412–14 is now somewhat out of date. The earliest surviving formularies are: PGM XX, the rather literary ‘Philinna’ papyrus, invoking named wise women from Syria and Thessaly; SM 71 = P. Monac. II 28 (formerly P. MonGr. inv. 216 = PGM CXVII), desperately fragmentary but with clear references to Osiris and Anubis but also to the Dioskouroi and Hades (both first century BCE); SM 72 (Augustan; see following note). Three others are dated roughly to the first century CE, later rather than earlier: P. Lips. inv. 429 = PGM LII (entirely Greek references); P. Oxy. 4468; SM 73 (see n. 31 below). SM 9, which BRASHEAR considered early, is dated by DANIEL and MALTOMINI to the third/fourth century CE. Apart from the Egyptian names, the earliest activated text, PGM XVI (first century CE), could have been written in Greece – there is no reference whatever to Egyptian religious Kulturgut. 30 SM 72 with the excellent commentary: two of the praxeis contain historiolae based on Egyptian divinities, Isis in the first case, Osiris, Amun and Isis-Nephthys in the second. 31 P. Oxy. 4468 = TM 63180 (Demotic in Greek characters: cf. QUACK, How the Coptic Script, 36; some hexametric poetry); in the same hand as PGM LII (Greek divinities only invoked); SM 73 (erotic; nothing clearly Egyptian but possibly a fragmentary sequence of voces, marked as such by means of a line above them); PGM LVII and LXXII are written on the same papyrus of late first/early second century CE; both cryptographic: LVII has the earliest known reference to a charakter, albeit in an unusual sense; LXXII is addressed by a practitioner to the Great Bear on behalf of a client, and involves writing out the request rather than uttering it. Both are rather successful examples of splicing the traditions. 28
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ments suggest the use in Greek cultural environments of familiar magical conventions, including appeal to the skills of barbarian wise folk, as in the ‘Philinna papyrus’ (PGM XX).32 Of the Demotic papyri, J.F. QUACK has argued that the London-Leiden papyrus (P. Mag. LL), which is agreed to have been written during the third century CE, is a composite text, a few of whose recipes are in linguistic terms ‘traditional’, with at most a superficial modernisation, while most are in late Demotic, and it is these that show a greater degree of reliance upon Graeco-Egyptian models.33 The overall impression given by this text is that the recipes are far more Egyptian in character than many Graeco-Egyptian texts: it contains a number of words and phrases in Hieratic, clearly implying a temple-source here, and uses Egyptian scribal conventions, such as red ink for headings. At the time of redaction, the only scribes who could still compose in Demotic were temple-personnel.34 Such a date would fit with the emergence of intaglio magical gems and the earliest defixiones in the Graeco-Egyptian style found outside Egypt, which belong to the late second century. In the absence of adequate empirical materials, we must fall back on a model.35 The occasional appeal in the Graeco-Egyptian magical texts to authoritative praxeis or pragmata found in a specific temple (the earliest example is SM 72 from Abusir elMelek, at the entrance to the Fayum) or ascribed to a named practitioner of old, whether a king or a priest, continues, or at any rate cites, an ancient tradition of ‘findnotes’ in both literary and non-literary Egyptian contexts, as a device for establishing authority.36 On the other hand, the extensive familiarity of many praxeis with traditional techniques of temple magic, such as the use of eye-paint, purification with natron (bicarbonate of soda) or the availability of hieratic papyrus, to say nothing of complex theological schemes, 37 shows that temple-practice inspired parts of many praxeis, directly or indirectly. Yet if that were all, there would have been no reason either to shift from Egyptian to Greek or to incorporate so much Greek material into the practice.38 32
FARAONE, Handbooks, 197–209. QUACK, En route, 192 and 216. He also notes (p. 192, n. 6) that most of P. Louvre E 3229 (cf. JOHNSON, Louvre E 3229, translated as PDM Suppl. [GMPT, 323–30]) is somewhat earlier except for the poorly-preserved sections at the beginning and end. DIELEMAN, Priests, 293–4 also argued for a fairly long developmental process, the Theban scribes making use of Graeco-Egyptian as well as older Hieratic and Demotic texts. Note the incorporation of sections of Greek at col. 4, 9–19; 15, 25– 8; 23, 9–20 of P. Mag. LL, which are repr. as PGM XIV. 34 DIELEMAN, Priests, 293–4 suggests that this Graeco-Demotic style was developed ‘some time in the second or third century CE’. 35 I am grateful to JACCO DIELEMAN for stimulating discussions on these issues. 36 The earliest examples seem to occur on 12th Dynasty coffins; the earliest allusion to a discovery of a text in a temple seems to be found in two 18th Dynasty texts (P. BM EA 9900 and 10477); see HAGEN, Constructing Textual Identity, 192 and 197. In GORDON, Memory, 163–6, I argued that by the time of the redaction of the magical papyri this trope had become a form of memorialisation. 37 A fine example is the study of P. Mimaut (PGM III) 1–164 (PGM III.1) by HARRAUER, Meliouchos, 12–53 (with the correctives implied by the discovery that P. Mimaut is actually two separate texts, see n. 62 below). 38 DIELEMAN, Priests, 63, stresses the importance of the shift from Egyptian to Greek, a process that took place even earlier in other cultural spheres. 33
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The most plausible explanation for these massive changes is the need for practitioners, some of them lower members of the priesthood operating now free-lance, others ritual specialists independent of the temple, to engage with clients whose primary language was Greek, not just in Alexandria but, more importantly I think, if we consider the wide distribution of these texts in the Fayum and Lower Egypt, the better-off inhabitants of the metropolises scattered all the way up the Nile, who in the second century were the beneficiaries of changes in land tenure, thanks to which the emergent elites were able to accumulate sizeable estates and in due course, under Septimius Severus, obtain city-status for their towns.39 These were the clients for whom in the first place protective amulets were written and intaglio gems cut. It was the demands of these clients for new types of magical services – new or at any rate differently conceived in Egyptian temple practice – for personal success and attractiveness, 40 for wresting women out of the power of their families, for breaking up existing relationships, for redressing wrongs, and their lack of interest in amulets against attacks by hippopotami, crocodiles, snakes and scorpions, and indeed healing in general, which were the staples of earlier practice (these clients lived in towns, did not go fishing on the river or wandering about in the bush, and could call on the service of schooldoctors; but they were afraid of daimonic attacks, sorcery and the evil eye, and they set great store by katarchic astrology). Practitioners were thus forced into a market situation in which they had to compete with one another for custom. The need to negotiate with socially-prominent Greekspeaking clients gave a powerful impetus to the abandonment of Demotic (which I assume remained the language employed in contact with monoglot speakers of Egyptian, gradually moving over into Coptic) and the adoption of Greek even in the praxeis (of course the great majority) that were hidden from clients. It was the situation of competition too that stimulated the sheer range of praxeis evidenced by the surviving texts, encouraging the most learned and skilled practitioners to produce highly elaborate, and therefore expensive, textual scenarios, but leaving plenty of space lower down the scale for extremely simple, not to say rudimentary, efforts.41 The adaptation of Greek hymnic material and metrical incantations, invocation of Hekate, astrological schemes, recherché materials from Greek mysteries, sacrificial procedures, the coinages of striking polysyllabic divine epithets, all these resources served subjectively to differentiate the truly skilled and knowledgeable practitioners from their competitors.42 And there, as I see it, lay their attraction. 39
See esp. TACHOMA, Fragile Hierarchies, 21–152. On the shift from Egyptian court-centred success-magic to Graeco-Egyptian charitesia, see QUACK, From Ritual to Magic; DE BRUYN, Anatomy. 41 The situation of competition was surely the main impetus behind the negotiation between ritual specialists and clients identified by CATHERINE BELL as crucial to change in ritual systems: C. BELL, Ritual Theory, 204–18. 42 Hymns: see the important series of editions and commentaries on the hymns in the review MHNH by CALVO MARTÍNEZ, e.g. Dos himnos; CALVO MARTÍNEZ, Himno hermético; CALVO MARTÍNEZ, Dos conjuros; CALVO MARTÍNEZ, Himno a Hécate-Selene etc.; now also the commentaries in BORTOLANI, Magical Hymns. Hekate: FAUTH, Aphrodites Pantoffel; CALVO MARTÍNEZ, Himno sincrético. Astrology: GUNDEL, Weltbild. Mysteries: BETZ, Magic and Mystery. Sacrificial proce40
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Competition also worked in a different direction: practitioners required subjective reinforcement for the authority of the praxeis they formulated, and especially their voces magicae, vowel sequences and, where they used them, charakteres. This authority they acquired through revelation, dream, bowl divination, lychnomancy (lamp divination), so many ‘external’ legitimations of the authority of their individual praxis.43 Here they modelled themselves on more traditional Egyptian incubation and oneiromantic procedures.44 At the same time, they could add such divinatory skills to the range of services they offered: one or two passages imply market-place situations in which the practitioner is tested by having to declare the nature of the problem a client wishes to consult him about.45 The hierarchy of divinatory means, culminating in the face-to-face meeting with a deity (αὔτοπτος), corresponded to a continuum of perceived seriousness and difficulty, and so cost.46 We must also allow for a degree of reflexivity in the practice. An elaborate theology of Helios/Re/P(h)re, for example, is a distinctive mark of more ambitious praxeis.47 Although the texts themselves are not explicit, Origen knew that there was a theory of the nature of voces magicae, which encompassed both words in Egyptian (or ‘Egyptian’), Hebrew and ‘Persian’, as enabling direct communication with the other world.48 This belief that Hebrew names were inherently powerful surely stimulated the dures: ZOGRAFOU, Prescriptions. Commentary on major linguistic features: BARBER, Linguistic Study. 43 Lecanomancy: HOPFNER, Offenbarungszauber II, §§ 228–72. Lychnomancy: ibid. §§ 212–27; ZOGRAFOU, Sous le regard; ZOGRAFOU, Magic Lamps; NAGEL’s contribution in this volume. Autopta: HOPFNER, Offenbarungszauber II, §§ 120–61 (= II.1, 193–256). 44 E.g. QUACK, Präzision; QUACK, Postulated and Real Efficacy. 45 PGM III 264–75, 328–31 (now PGM III.2); V 256–66 and 291–7; cf. KOENEN, Dream of Nektanebos; FRANKFURTER, Voices. 46 There are no internal indications of charges or relative costs in the PGM, though they speak airily about gold, silver and pewter lamellae, linen garments and objects hard to obtain, such as a wolf’s eye or a hoopoe’s heart (though there were traders in this kind of thing, as in the developing world today), and imagine clients coming into the presence of a ‘king’ or ‘magnate’. The economics of magical practice is a massively understudied topic, even on the part of modern anthropologists, since informants prefer not to speak of such things (‘ein undurchsichtiges und sensibles Thema’: SÜNDERMANN, Spirituelle Heiler, 122). Based upon the evidence of LIEBAN, Cebuano Sorcery, the least expensive type of consultation/treatments in the Philippines in the 1950s were herbal-medicinal preparations, which almost all families could afford, and the most expensive, amulets made of semiprecious stones, which might cost 50 times as much. Prices in towns were considerably higher than on the land. GANANATH OBEYESEKERE and his co-workers found that the fees charged in the 1960s by shrines in Sri Lanka offering to perform malign sorcery were generally ‘within the means of the average peasant’, while individual ritual specialists (kattaḍirāla) might charge high fees to wealthy clients for similar services: OBEYESEKERE, Sorcery, 4–5. The Syrian spirit-healers studied by KATJA SÜNDERMANN in the 1990s claimed to leave payment up to the client, but also to know of other practitioners who charged considerably more and resented clients who gave too little (SÜNDERMANN, Spirituelle Heiler, 123–4). 47 See esp. FAUTH, Seth-Typhon; FAUTH, Helios Megistos, 34–120; also FARAONE, Collapse; PACHOUMI, Concepts of the Divine. 48 The most important passage is C. Cels. 1.24: ‘If we are able to prove that what is called “magic” is not, as the Epicureans and Peripatetics think, a wholly incoherent phenomenon but, as those who
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appropriation of Hebrew divine, angelic and patriarchal names into Graeco-Egyptian practice, names that required no subjective confirmation of their power through divination.49 Finally, there is clear evidence of attempts to incorporate elements of theurgic and even Neo-platonist ideas into some praxeis, which gives us an important insight into the sheer range of possible resources available at the top end of this practice, recalling the synthesis of Greek and Egyptian speculation familiar under the general name of the Corpus Hermeticum.50 As I made clear in the introduction, the generation that created PGM thought of this practice in terms of ‘syncretism’, basically between Egyptian and Greek practice, with Jewish practice occupying an unstable but marginal position. 51 Ethnographers have generally little problem with this term, since for them it is paired with a counter-term, ‘anti-syncretism’: they take it for granted that, although there are no pure religious traditions, there are plenty of attempts to create them on ideological grounds.52 The (claimed) tradition of a family, sect, group, people or nation is thus an inherently political or instrumental construction, and constantly subject to alteration: ‘tradition is not the opposite of change’.53 In religious studies things may be different, since in that discipline degrees of subjectively-perceived assimilation may be more portant.54 Whether ‘hybridity’ and ‘fusion’ are more useful terms remains to be seen; the first at any rate has, until the rise of ‘entanglement’, been more fashionable.55 However that may be, it seems to me heuristically more useful to start from the notion of appropriation of cultural items, in this case those recognised as (potentially) relevant to a praxis that occupies a relatively specific niche high up at one pole of a are expert in it can demonstrate, quite coherent but whose principles are known only to a very few; then we will say that the “name” Sabaoth, and Adonai and all the others handed down among the Jews with great reverence are based not upon contingent or created things but upon a specific secret holy lore attributed to the creator of the world. That is the reason why these “names”, uttered in a particular imbricated sequence, have power; and so also the “names” uttered in the Egyptian language to invoke certain daimones which are powerful only in a given realm, and those uttered in the language of Persia to invoke other daimones, and similarly with each people’ (1.136.20–138.34, tr. BORRET, Origène), cf. also ibid. 5.45 (3.130.8–16 B.). See also PREISENDANZ, Ephesia Grammata. 49 See e.g. FAUTH, Arbath-Iao; CALVO MARTÍNEZ, Himno hermético; PACHOUMI, Personal Daimon. Apart from ‘Jewish’ angelic names, of which PREISENDANZ lists about 105 in Index § VIII (ending in -ήλ and -έλ, and excluding e.g. Sabaoth; cf. PETERSON, Engel- und Dämonennamen), the range of divine and patriarchal names in PGM is rather limited (cf. PREISENDANZ, Salomo). 50 See esp. PACHOUMI, Concepts of the Divine; more briefly, FRASER, Roman Antiquity, 123–5, 136–9. 51 I omit consideration of Near-Eastern, Iranian and Christian elements: the first two are more or less completely insignificant, the last an all too obviously transitional phenomenon dependent on the penetration of Christian practice into the Egyptian metropolis. 52 E.g. STEWART/SHAW (eds.), Syncretism/Anti-Syncretism. 53 SAHLINS, Anthropology of Modernity, 51; cf. KING, Koryak Traditions, 243–62. 54 See e.g. the contributions to BONNET/MOTTE (eds.), Syncrétismes religieux. DE BRUYN, Anatomy, continues to use the term syncretism without discomfort. The useful discussion by XELLA, ‘Syncrétisme’ ends by recommending the ethnographers’ perspective. 55 Cf. HOCK, Religion; HOCK, Beyond the Multireligious; BERGER/HOCK/KLIE (eds.), Religionshybride; BRETFELD, Dynamiken; also the new journal, Entangled Religions, edited from Bochum by V. KRECH.
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notional continuum of effects achievable through performative ritual knowledge. The greater the range of skills claimed within the praxis, the greater will be the number of potential appropriations from distinguishable but analogous activities/texts originating from elsewhere in the contemporary culture. This holds, whether they are marked as ‘indigenous’ or ‘exogenous’ – the inside/outside boundary is continuously negotiable. The key criteria governing appropriation-strategies here is not alterity in itself but (1) the subjectively-perceived potential for adding theological, rhetorical or visual mass or weight, and (2) rarity value. What we need to focus on is the notion of an open-ended knowledge-praxis and, in the case of Ptolemaic-Roman magical practice, real-world shifts in the status of the bearers of that already diversified knowledge, uncertainty about its status, potential clients who could be made interested in needs they did not know they had, and the availability of written texts in a variety of modes and languages. The umbrella-term ‘Graeco-Egyptian magical texts’, which refers to the totality of texts ever written in this tradition, in a variety of languages and scripts, the vast majority of which are lost, thus covers a wide variety of individual and local practices, each with its own interests in extension through appropriation.56 We can model this by distinguishing between three levels of organisation: 1. Primary invention or adaptation of individual pragmata: this is the level of activity that is hardest for us to grasp, though we can find probable examples in activated documents deposited in groups by individual practitioners, for example at Athens and Hadrumetum, and in the evidence for adaptations of texts known from elsewhere in a different form.57 Individual texts of this type might be circulated to other practitioners within epistolary groups, decorated with a famous name or a puff,58 or sold to those lower down the hierarchy of knowledge who required specific types of text, primarily protective amulets or information about correct ritual procedures. 2. Collections of such primary materials acquired, perhaps over some years, by individual practitioners. Insofar as these were practical collections, a meta-level of reference was required, i.e. the more or less standardised names for different types of praxeis, such as lychnomanteion, oneiraiteton or diakopos, or those attributed to specific high-prestige practitioners in the past, such as Ieu, Pnouthis or Pibechis, or, in the specific case of P. Lond. I 121, Democritus, Moses, Pythagoras or Claudianus.59 The best complete surviving examples of such ‘middle-range’ collections, with a more or less distinct collector’s profile, are P. Oslo 1 = PGM XXXVI, with its unique collec-
56 We should not forget the wide variety of Textträger utilised for carrying texts and images in this tradition, splendidly laid out by BEVILACQUA, Scrittura. 57 E.g. JORDAN, Defixiones from a Well (Athens); GORDON, Competence; the best example of reproduction and alteration is the philtrokatadesmos whose most elaborate form is given by PGM IV 296–466; the known variants are well discussed by MARTINEZ, Greek Love Charm, cf. SM 46–51. 58 Puff: OED, sense 7: ‘…an extravagantly laudatory advertisement or review of a book, a performer or performance, a tradesman’s goods, or the like’. In our case, claims such as ποτήριον λίαν θαυμαστόν (PGM VII 643); see e.g. DIELEMAN, Priests, 275–6; GARCÍA MOLINOS, Recursos, 35–6. 59 Lists can be found in DIELEMAN, Priests, 263–70; for such claims in P. Lond. I 121, which invokes no Egyptian masters, but only Greek ones, see MARTÍN HERNÁNDEZ, Selección, 22–6.
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tion of imperative drawings,60 P. Berlin 5025 = PGM I, which contains two recipes for obtaining a paredros and an elaborate ‘Apollonian’ divinatory text,61 and P. Lond. 46 = PGM V, a now unbound codex concerned initially with higher-grade divination, but in which six of the ten praxeis, some of them very elaborate, lack a proper descriptive title. A somewhat different case is that of P. Mimaut = PGM III (= P. Louvre N 2391), which has recently been shown to consist of two different compositions, in two different languages, and written by two different scribes, but which were evidently kept rolled one inside the other, thus forming a tiny archive.62 3. Ambitious collections of materials, some based on individual collections as in (2) copied into a longer manuscript, others apparently viewed as repositories of a now vanishing tradition, yet others as ‘library-editions’ of especially complex praxeis. At least some of the texts acquired and later sold by Giovanni Anastasi fall into this category. Whatever view is taken of the ‘Theban Library’ story, without Anastasi’s texts we would have virtually no inkling of the sophistication and ambition of the upper levels of Graeco-Egyptian magical practice, or its relation to theurgy. If we are interested in getting beyond the individual activity of appropriation, we must feed in the notion of circulation: some explicit allusions in these texts to the epistolary exchange of individual praxeis, the use by the scribe of at least two versions of the same praxis with minor differences,63 the existence of parallel versions in different collections64 and deliberate alteration of Vorlagen, all these attest to circulation of texts, of which we can distinguish at least three different types: direct exchange between individuals living in close proximity to one another; gifts within informal corresponding circles (which might include individuals at a great distance), membership of which assumed rough equality of competence and knowledge; 65 and finally sale to practitioners at a lower level of skill. All of this circulation activity involved copying, and with copying came routinisation as well as errors of transmission, particularly in relation to voces magicae and drawings (which are often omitted in surviving formulary praxeis). Circulation also invited alteration and splicing, ‘improvement’ and adaptation to local conditions. It is in consideration of these secondary processes, essential to the establishment of a knowledge-tradition, that we can begin to speak of ‘synthesis’, the point at which the origin of appropriated items ceases to be noted and 60
For some speculations on the iconographic substrate of these images, see GRAHAM, Perseus. See the analyses and commentaries of CALVO MARTÍNEZ, ¿Licnomancia?; CALVO MARTÍNEZ, Himno a Helios, 162–3, 171–5. 62 LOVE, ‘PGM III’ Archive, 178: ‘On balance, “PGM III” is no more than a product of the synthetic text produced in Preisendanz 1928.’ It is thus proposed that they now be referred to as ‘PGM III.1’ and ‘III.2’. I thank Dr. LOVE for sending me a separatum. 63 E.g. PDM xii 47 (= P. Leid. J 384, col. I*, 26). 64 E.g. four versions of the same prayer to Helios (= Hymn 4 PREISENDANZ) are known from PGM I 315–25, IV 436–61, 1957–89 and VIII 74–81; three versions of the same prayer to Hermes (= Hymn 15/16 PREISENDANZ) are found at PGM V 400–420, VII 668–80 and XVIIb; two different versions of a διαβολή (= Hymn 19) occur in PGM IV 2574–610 and 2643–74. On the two versions of a request for an oracle from Bes (PGM VII 222–49 and VIII 64–110), mentioned below, see MARTÍN HERNÁNDEZ, Two Requests. SM 90 is a much-edited version of a similar praxis, to the Headless god. 65 Recipes sent by a doctor in the Oxyrhynchite nome, perhaps to Thebes in Upper Egypt: P. Mag. LL, 1, 1 and 18, 7 = PDM xiv 1 and 528. 61
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drops out of conscious awareness.66 It was only with the shift to a different source of textual authority, namely elements of Christian liturgical practice, that the synthesis is challenged and, over a period of some two or three centuries, eventually more or less completely replaced.
2. Ambitious collections As I have said, the category ‘ambitious collections’ is a mixed one, since it includes several distinguishable types of procedure, which again we can view as divergent models. One is represented by P. Leid. J 395 = PGM XIII, a well-written codex of eight double sheets, which contains basically two versions of the same long superpraxis in Greek, whose central element is a cosmogony;67 in the first case the praxis is represented as providing the ritual basis for pragmatic operations, such as becoming invisible, freeing oneself from physical constraints (chains) or extinguishing a dangerous fire.68 At the other extreme, the London-Leiden Demotic papyrus = P. Mag. LL, the longest surviving text in this tradition, is a roll containing 98 distinct praxeis, of very variable length and quality, which occupy 29 large columns on the recto and 33 smaller columns on the verso = 1229 lines.69 It contains numerous simple praxeis, in particular for healing, a topic, typical for Pharaonic and Demotic magic, that hardly occurs in Greek formularies (as opposed to activated amulets), many divinatory praxeis, especially dream oracles and lecanomancies with boy-medium and lychnomancies, and generally rather unsophisticated erotic praxeis that are quite different from the psychological motivation and imaginative drive of many Graeco-Egyptian praxeis.70 The sheer size and fine, careful script of this text suggest a deliberate at66 A good example is the claim in PGM XIII 38–9 that a series of voces beginning ανοχ is ‘Hebrew’, though that word means ‘I am’ in Egyptian. 67 The first three words of the second version are actually written on the very same line (343, at the bottom of p. 8 = ‘col. VIII’ in PREISENDANZ/HENRICHS’s edition) as the last two words of the first, ἔρρωσο, τέκνον. I briefly mention ROBERT DANIEL’s exemplary text with photographs en face (DANIEL, Two Greek Magical Papyri) in § 3.1 below. 68 I adopt the traditional view, represented by JACOBY and PREISENDANZ. They divided ll. 1–233 followed by 234–343 (specific applications); and ll. 343–734, followed by a series of complementary praxeis: 735–59; 761–822; 823–1001; 1001–56, followed by three brief praxeis (1057–77), of which only the title of the third was ever copied out. Ll. 933–1078 are written in a different hand from the earlier part. MO. SMITH, PLeid. J 395, repeated in GMPT, 181–2, cf. MO. SMITH, Eighth Book of Moses, argued that there are three different versions of the cosmogony, 1–343, 343–645 and 646– 734. MERKELBACH, Kosmogonie, and MERKELBACH/TOTTI (eds.), Abrasax III, commented only on 1-233. 69 The text is damaged at the beginning and strangely incomplete at the end. 70 The dominance of texts for healing (and protection from snakes/scorpions, crocodiles etc.) in earlier Egyptian practice can be seen from BORGHOUTS’s representative collection of translated texts (BORGHOUTS, Ancient Egyptian Magical Texts); divination: QUACK, Demotische magische und divinatorische Texte; QUACK, Remarks on Egyptian Rituals (on P. Louvre E 3229); QUACK, Präzision; erotic: NAGEL, Liebesbann (an excellent piece); J.J. WINKLER, Constraints of Desire, 71– 98.
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tempt at ‘monumentalisation’ of a tradition in an Egyptian language. At some earlier date, the same scribe wrote out the shorter formulary on the damaged verso of the other Leiden magical text, J 384 = PGM XII, which is mainly in Greek, but with the first three columns (I*, II* and a very fragmentary III*) in Demotic and the last four columns (numbered I–IV from right to left) partly in Greek, mainly in ic.71 Since this too must be a temple-production, it appears to be an attempt, so far as we know unique, to express in a single composite manuscript the idea that Demotic and Greek convey the same knowledge-tradition. The most important examination of an ‘ambitious collection’ is however LYNN LIDONNICI’s fine analysis of the Great Paris Magical Codex, Bibl. Nat. suppl. gr. 574 = PGM IV, a codex of 36 large leaves written on both sides, containing 53 distinct praxeis, again of very different lengths and quality, in all 3274 lines of Greek.72 Having laid out two possible models of composition, a haphazard re-copying of individual praxeis all on different sheets accumulated from different sources over years versus a reduced number of ‘middling’ collections, as in 2) above, she argues that it was copied from an exemplar in similar form: the scribe must have had a good idea of the number of sheets he would need right from the start, sorted and folded the sheets before he began writing, and reduced the length of his lines towards the middle of the text to take account of the fact that the space available was here reduced.73 Paying close attention to differences in the incidence and types of paragraphoi, she argues that the formulary from which our codex was copied comprised five (or six) ‘middling’ collections of unequal length, viz.: ll. 1–153,74 154–1389, 1390–927, 1928–2240, 2241–942, 2943–3274. The longest section identified (2) itself seems to have been created from four smaller formularies (ll. 154–466, 467–849, 850–1226, 1227–389). She discerns an irregular tendency whereby some of the sub-formularies contained a series of major praxeis, to which shorter, even quite insignificant, items, such as the six unrelated lines from the Iliad at ll. 469–74 or the ‘Corpse interrogation of Pitys’ at ll. 2140–44, 71
The invocation to Imhotep in col. Ι* resembles two much earlier (sixth century BCE) texts, one in Hieratic, the other in early Demotic, see QUACK, Imhotep. Two of the headings in the long Greek section (which consists of 444 lines) are in Demotic; again there are several short passages in Hieratic. 72 LIDONNICI, Compositional Patterns. 73 LIDONNICI, Compositional Patterns, 147–51, 175. One additional sheet needed to be inserted, however, namely 21, both faces of which are fully written over with material carried on from 20v and over to 22r; since it was of course a double sheet, the corresponding half (16) is totally blank. The scribe must therefore have realised he was going to need more space and inserted the double sheet at a point where two blank pages would intrude least. There are also several gaps for drawings that were never inserted; presumably they were present in the original. The outer double-sheet was left almost entirely blank, apparently to serve as a cover. 74 Section 1 (1–153), which is pretty clearly marked as a unit by the empty p. 3v, includes just four praxeis, two mainly in Old Coptic, one in Greek with some Old Coptic voces, and just one, a τελετή requiring the practitioner to behead a white cockerel and drink off the warm blood, entirely in Greek (cf. JOHNSTON, Sacrifice, 353–8). The beginning of the very first praxis, in Old Coptic, is essentially the same as the invocation of P. Mag. LL, 21, 2–3. I follow PREISENDANZ against the breakdown in GMPT, xi–xii, which LIDONNICI adopts. See now the thorough study by LOVE, Code-Switching; the older study of ll. 94–153 by MEYER, Love Spell is still worth consulting.
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were added as the occasion arose.75 In each case, the scribe retained the scriptual mannerisms of the original rather than subjecting all the earlier formularies to a common template. Although there may be disagreement over particular judgements, LIDONNICI’s analysis seems basically correct, so that we may conclude that the original from which the Great Paris Magical Codex was copied, or at any rate the original compilation, offers a fourth possible model for the composition of ambitious creations. The only important question that she has not discussed is whether we can say anything about the purpose of composing and (re-, re- re-)copying such an ambitious collection, and the conception of Graeco-Egyptian magical practice both composition and copying imply. On these terms, I have chosen in this contribution to look at yet another ambitious collection, namely the large papyrus roll officially known as P. Lond. I 121, though more familiar no doubt as PGM VII (= TM no. 60204). I am frankly less interested in transcultural problems, which can, in my view, only be fully appreciated through the medium of a traditional commentary written in co-operation by at least two or three specialists in addition to papyrologists (in late Egyptian religion, in late GraecoRoman religion and perhaps in Jewish magic),76 than in sketching a profile of the creator or creators of the compendium and thus inferring his/their view of the project of magic and specifically of the purpose of ambitious collections. The Lived Ancient Religion project in the Max-Weber-Kolleg in Erfurt, directed by JÖRG RÜPKE, which has recently come to an end, attempted to relocate religious practice in daily life rather than in the idealised representations of normative sources. 77 This included thinking about the self-understandings of religious specialists or practitioners whose livelihood depended on their ability to respond to the demands of their clients, and therefore favoured bricolage to a greater or smaller extent. Although in its present form P. Lond. I 121 was put together from four major Vorlagen, close inspection reveals more complex processes at work, which provide some insight into the work-methods of the earlier practitioners (or editors) whose praxeis were combined into the larger units assembled into the text as we have it.78
75
Only in the case of the final section does there seem to be no internal coherence, so these may have been directly-copied praxeis on loose leaves: LIDONNICI, Compositional Patterns, 175. 76 Such a commentary, however useful in providing insight both into the initial syncretism and the subsequent synthetic tradition, naturally cannot tell us how far the scribes/end-users of the praxeis themselves understood their contents or their specific rationale. 77 ‘Lived Ancient Religion’ (2012–17) funded by the European Union’s seventh framework programme (FP7/2013), grant no. 295555: see www.uni-erfurt.de/.../2012/2012-Ruepke_Lived_ancient _religion; RÜPKE, Lived Ancient Religion; RÜPKE, Connected Reader; RÜPKE, Pantheon, 13–34. 78 Cf. an earlier study, GORDON, Religious Anthropology, in the context of another Erfurt project, Religiöse Individualisierung in historischer Perspektive, directed by HANS JOAS and JÖRG RÜPKE (www.uni-erfurt.de/max-weber-kolleg/kfg (1. Förderperiode); see now FUCHS/RÜPKE (eds.), Religious Individualization.
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3. P. Lond. I 121 = PGM VII as an ambitious collection 3.1. Materiality Since the advent of the so-called ‘new philology’ in Medieval Studies, associated especially with BERNARD CERQUIGLINI’s Éloge de la variante (1989), it has become accepted that editions should try to respect the individuality of the text, including its materiality, within the historical context that gave rise to it. Until very recently the only publication in our area that attempted to provide a fresh semi-diplomatic text of a magical papyrus was ROBERT DANIEL’s photographic edition of the two Leiden papyri J 384 and 395 (= PGM XII and XIII), published in 1991, which prints the text of each column facing the relevant photograph. 79 DANIEL’s main intention however was to check PREISENDANZ’s readings rather than to call attention to the materiality of the text. Currently however a project organised from Chicago has set itself the task of reediting all the magical papyri, including those that were first published before the Great War, on the basis of autopsy and/or digital photographs in colour, from which we hope new inferences about questions of composition will be possible. 80 My remarks here are thus necessarily provisional.81 Before proceeding to the roll itself, I should first however say something about its provenance. 3.1.1. The acquisition of P. Lond. I 121 by the British Museum All four of the ‘ambitious collections’ listed in § 2 belonged to a group of papyri acquired, at least partly, some time before 1828 by the hyperactive Macedonian dealer in antiquities Ioannis/Giovanni Anastasiou/Anastasi/d’Anastasi (c. 1770/75–1860).82 Although the precise circumstances of the find cannot be ascertained in view of interests the various parties involved may have had in concealing the truth, even if they knew it, it is possible the papyri were found in a tomb near Thebes, a detail that is compatible with the fact that the vocalised glosses to the voces magicae in P. Mag. LL seem to be in Coptic dialect P, perhaps associated with this locality.83 Anastasi himself seems to have claimed that the finds constituted a ‘library’, though he identified the owner as an 79
DANIEL, Two Greek Magical Papyri. University of Chicago Magical Knowledge Project, sponsored by the Neubauer Collegium for Culture and Society (Chicago) and directed by C.A. FARAONE and SOFÍA TORALLAS TOVAR. The concluding meeting was held in Chicago in May 2018. When the results are published in 2019–2020, the two volumes will replace PGM and SM at any rate as far as formularies are concerned. The reexamination of PGM III (LOVE, ‘PGM III’ Archive) was undertaken in the context of this project. 81 RAQUEL MARTÍN HERNÁNDEZ has been assigned responsibility for P. Lond. I 121 within this project. See MARTÍN HERNÁNDEZ, Coherent Division, 147, n. * and MARTÍN HERNÁNDEZ, Sobre la ordenación. 82 Anastasi/Anastasiou’s birth- and death-dates are highly conjectural; BRASHEAR, Greek Magical Papyri, 3401 gives the dates then accepted: 1780–1857; ZAGO, Tebe magica, 38–59 offers 1797/98?– 1857/60?; the very recent account by CHRYSIKOPOULOS, À l’aube, based on new evidence, gives c. 1775–1860. The official register of deaths in Alexandria gives his age at death in 1860 as 95. 83 JOHNSON, Dialect; DOSOO, History, 254, n. 11. 80
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‘Egyptian Gnostic’ whom he dated to the second century CE.84 Apart from the ‘ambitious collections’, the find also included a codex of seven pages containing 10 pragmata (PGM V), an alchemical codex of fifteen pages (P. Holmiensis), and a loose sheet inside that codex containing a primitive three-line formula for divination.85 Although they ended up by being sold in different transactions to different European collections, so much can be established with some certainty.86 Anastasi’s idea of a ‘Gnostic library’, which has now become ‘the Theban Magical Library’, has proved very attractive. There has inevitably been much speculation regarding its contents. 87 CARL WESSELY, for example, would have liked to include P. Mimaut (P. Louvre 2391 = PGM III), which was acquired in Egypt by the French consul-general M.J.-.F. Mimaut, no doubt in Alexandria, some time between 1830 and 1837.88 The editors of a third Demotic-Greek papyrus (P. BM EA 10588 = PGM LXI) thought it might well have come from Anastasi’s ‘library’,89 but there are noticeable differences in the Demotic script between it and the hands that wrote P. Mag. LL and Leiden J 384 = PGM XII.90 There is continuing difference of opinion regarding the two papyri (P. Berl. inv. 5025 and 2526 = PGM I and II) that were acquired at the Paris auction by the Staatliche Museen in Berlin in 1857. There is no doubt that Anastasi once owned them but no positive evidence that they were in fact part of the ar-
84
In his Catalogue of the grand auction of 23–27 June 1857 in Paris at which Anastasi, three years before his death, sold much if not all of his remaining collections of Aegyptiaca, amounting to 1129 lots, FRANÇOIS LENORMANT claimed, presumably on the basis of Anastasi’s own representations: ‘M. Anastasi, dans ses fouilles à Thèbes avait découvert la bibliothèque d’un gnostique égyptien du second siècle …’ (LENORMANT, Catalogue, 84; cf. PREISENDANZ, Zum Pariser Zauberpapyrus, 575). Bibl. Nat. suppl. gr. 574 = PGM IV was sold at this auction as no. 1073. 85 Alchemical text (P. Holmiensis): HALLEUX, Alchimistes grecs. Loose sheet: PGM Va. 86 Again, GORISSEN, Ontwikkelingsgang; BRASHEAR, Greek Magical Papyri, 3398–408; GORDON, Memory, 148–51. According to his letter of 18th March 1828 kept in the Rijksmuseum, Anastasi purchased P. Leid. J 384 = PGM XII from native Egyptians (‘Arabes’), i.e. tomb-robbers or their middle-men. DOSOO, History, 261, rightly points out that these tomb-robbers or their middle-men may have sold Anastasi items from a single archive over an extended period of time. 87 DOSOO, History, is the fullest, very balanced account. Of recent commentators, MICHELA ZAGO in particular has tried to ascribe as many texts as possible to the supposed ‘library’, including even P. Oslo 1 = PGM XXXVI: ZAGO, Tebe magica, 59–92. In my view, this tendency is to be resisted; cf. DOSOO, History, 267, n. 57. Since this topic is marginal to my concerns here, I do not pursue it further; some additional references can be found in NODAR/TORALLAS TOVAR, Paleography, 60, n. 4. 88 WESSELY, Neue griechische Zauberpapyri, 12. In GORDON, Memory, 149, I wrongly claimed that Mimaut bought his papyrus from Anastasi in 1837; see DOSOO, History, 264, n. 42. 89 H.I. BELL/NOCK/THOMPSON (eds.), Magical Texts, 5. 90 J.F. QUACK tells me that RICHARD PARKINSON, then curator of the Museum’s papyrological collection and now professor of Egyptology at Oxford, informed him years ago that there is no evidence in the Museum’s records to link the papyrus with Anastasi. DOSOO, History, 268, confirms that it is first recorded in the Register of Unnumbered Objects from the old Collections, compiled in 1927, with no details regarding its acquisition. Moreover, there is no record of it in the catalogues of Anastasi’s auction-sales. Against BRASHEAR’s repeated claim that the same hand wrote P. Mag. LL, the Demotic sections of Leiden J 384 (= PGM XII) and P. Louvre E 3229, see DOSOO, History, 259, n. 28 (citing J.F. QUACK in his support). See also n. 92 below.
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chive.91 Another doubtful candidate is P. Louvre E 3229, a Demotic papyrus listed in the sale catalogue of 1857, without any indication of its provenience.92 It must be remembered that Anastasi, who once sold 5675 Egyptian items to the Leiden Rijksmuseum in one transaction, had agents everywhere; we know that he bought a rather worm-eaten magical papyrus (P. Lond. 47 = PGM VI) from a dealer in Memphis, which was acquired by the British Museum in 1839, but has now been identified by ELENI CHRONOPOULOU as part of the missing beginning of PGM II, the second Berlin papyrus.93 Shortly after the publication of Papyri Graecae Magicae vol. II, PREISENDANZ also claimed that PGM VII too may have derived from the ‘library’.94 In his introduction to his edition of that text, however, he noted that it was acquired by the British Museum along with PGM VIII in 1888, that is, thirty years after the grand Paris auction of Anastasi’s property in 1857. This would in itself indicate caution. In the course of his papyrological work on selected magical papyri, KORSHI DOSOO has discovered that PGM VII, VIII and XIa were purchased together from a London firm (Bywater, Tanqueray & Co.), acting on behalf of a native Egyptian.95 The fact that PGM VIII 64–110 contains a modified form of the Bes oracle in PGM VII 222–49 led him to suspect that the three texts belonged together. Moreover, the verso of PGM XIa contains accounts belonging to an estate from Hermonthis (P. Lond. I 125 rt.). In view of the fact that it seems very unlikely that the ‘native Egyptian’ had waited 60 years to sell his papyri if they had belonged to the ‘library’, DOSOO now tentatively refers to these three texts as the ‘Hermonthis Magical Archive’ and treats them as independent of the Theban group.96 3.2. The composition of P. Lond. I 121 No one is of course more familiar with the specific character and difficulties of a papyrus text than the papyrologist who edits or, as the case may be, transcribes it. But, 91
They are listed by LENORMANT in the 1857 sale catalogue as nos. 1074 and 1075. Their general similarity to PGM IV, XII and XIII tempted RICHARD WÜNSCH to attribute them to the ‘library’, and he has often been followed, cf. DOSOO, History, 255–6. I share the reservations of BRASHEAR, Greek Magical Papyri, 3404 and DIELEMAN, Priests, 13, n. 38. 92 LENORMANT, Catalogue, no. 1061. JOHNSON, Leiden I 384, 55–6; BRASHEAR, Greek Magical Papyri, 3404, and DOSOO, History, 258, all favour the attribution. Part of BRASHEAR’s argument, however, is that P. Louvre E 3229 and P. BM EA 10588 were written in the same hand as P. Mag. LL and PGM XII, which, as noted above, is surely not the case. DIELEMAN, Priests, 13, n. 38, for whom it is ‘of unknown provenance and cannot be linked directly to any of the handbooks securely assigned to the Theban Magic Library’, classifies it merely as a ‘possible’ component of the archive. He does not comment on the handwriting. 93 Anastasi Cat. 1839 no. 5 = KENYON, Greek Papyri I, 81–3, dating to the second century CE; PGM VI (ll. 22–38 are reproduced as Hymn 10/Apollo III). See DOSOO, History, 264–5. The members of the Chicago Project were told of the identification at a meeting at Montserrat in Sept. 2016, and DOSOO just had time to discuss some implications at DOSOO, History, 273–4, cf. 256, n. 18a. 94 PREISENDANZ, Papyrusfunde, 93. 95 DOSOO, History, 265–6, cf. 261. DOSOO, Rituals of Apparition, also offers many new hypotheses about hands, composition, Sitz im Leben and use of these texts. 96 DOSOO, History, 266. Hermonthis however is not very far from Thebes.
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just as in epigraphy, once a printed text exists it tends to occlude the original, which is returned to its dark slumbers. In the case of P. Lond. I 121, such occlusion has occurred twice over: it was first transcribed, at almost the same moment but independently, by CARL WESSELY and FREDERICK KENYON in 1893, and a new edition, with many alterations, new readings and expansions of abbreviations, was published almost four decades later by KARL PREISENDANZ in 1931.97 Although KENYON issued facsimiles of the London papyri in a separate volume, it was not until very recently that good colour images have been available to scholars.98 For the most part, therefore, PGM VII, like the rest of the magical papyri, has been received primarily as a printed document. Designed as it was for readability, PREISENDANZ’s text of P. Lond. I 121 in certain respects bears little relationship to what appears on the papyrus. Above all, he shifted passages around, highlighted the titles, expanded all the abbreviations, usually omitted dots marking uncertain readings, and sometimes even square brackets on account of the extra costs they caused in the age of hot-type, turned sigla such as the signs for sun and moon into proper words, normalised all ancient corrections or insertions in a second or third hand, omitted paragraphoi and other copyists’ marks, and reduced the optical significance of the onomata barbara by printing them in smaller typeface.99 Despite his invaluable apparatus criticus,100 these interventions, designed for ease of reading, make it difficult to use his version in PGM in order to answer questions about the implied history of the text, possible methods of compilation, variability of the text over time (i.e. the degree to which it was regarded as a ‘living text’), the familiarity of the implied reader with such texts, and the implications for possible inferences regarding their pragmatic use. These are the questions that concern me in the following sections. 3.2.1. Palaeographical details101 Physically, P. Lond. I 121 is a papyrus roll 78″ long and 13″ high.102 The recto contains 19 columns in all (the first two of which consist merely of fragments),103 the verso 97
WESSELY, Neue griechische Zauberpapyri, 16–55; KENYON, Greek Papyri I, 83–115; II, 51–65. PREISENDANZ made full use both of EITREM’s autopsy of the roll in EITREM, Greek Magical Papyri (1923) and of HOPFNER’s editions of the divinatory praxeis (HOPFNER, Offenbarungszauber I–II). He had himself edited the Homeromanteion in 1913: PREISENDANZ, Die Homeromantie. 98 I have consulted KENYON’s monochrome plates, and thank KORSHI DOSOO for letting me have colour photos of the sheets, which were arranged by SOFÍA TORALLAS and RAQUEL MARTÍN for the Chicago project (see n. 80 above). 99 Many of these points are noted by PREISENDANZ himself in PREISENDANZ/HENRICHS (eds.), Papyri Graecae Magicae II, xxx (‘Zur Benutzung von Apparat und Texten’) and 269–70 (= pp. 213– 14 of the 1931 edn) (‘Paläographische Bemerkungen zu den Papyri’). 100 To be fair, much of this information can be gleaned from the apparatus, though it requires a great effort of imagination to transpose the mass of information there into the form instantly provided by a digital photograph in colour. 101 I am most grateful here for comments by RAQUEL MARTÍN, who, as a papyrologist and editor of the new version of PGM VII for the Chicago project, is far more competent in this area than I and has saved me from several errors.
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only 13, i.e. there are six blank columns on the back. Of these 13, only 10 are written in the same hand as the recto.104 Next to col. XXVII, we find a brief agogimon of 8 lines in a different hand, which KENYON describes as more cursive and irregular than the main one.105 In the previously empty space at the beginning of the verso, yet another hand, which KENYON judged to be of later date than the main one, has written two columns of additional material, most of which KENYON could not read, but which appear in PREISENDANZ as cols. XXIX–XXX, ll. 981–1026. Whereas KENYON, followed by PREISENDANZ, dated the main hand to third century CE, FRANCO MALTOMINI, in a re-edition of the Homeromanteion, followed by ATHANASSIA ZOGRAFOU, suggested fourth–fifth century CE. 106 In his work on early Christian books, ROGER BAGNALL reverted to the date suggested by KENYON and PREISENDANZ, while RAQUEL MARTÍN, ALBERTO NODAR and SOFÍA TORALLAS have all now come out strongly for a fourth century CE date.107 It seems therefore that our present P. Lond. I 121 was a living text, inasmuch as it has been (rather haphazardly) corrected, and at least one other individual has added to it, albeit sparingly. The majority of the text is written, according to KENYON, like the other magical texts in the British Library, in a hand ‘that approaches nearer to the formal literary cast’.108 RAQUEL MARTÍN has recently argued that the use of a variety of lectional marks and the orderly arrangement of the main text indicates that the main scribe was accustomed to writing literary texts and indeed ‘anthologies’, i.e. com-
102
PREISENDANZ worked this out as 2 m x 33 cm. The Trismegistos no. of P. Lond. I 121 is 60204. 103 KENYON, Greek Papyri I, 84. The first two columns (given by PREISENDANZ as I* and II*) were omitted by KENYON from his edition; they have now been properly edited by MALTOMINI, Homeromanteion, with the help of parallel texts. KENYON denoted the columns by means of Arabic numerals, PREISENDANZ by Roman numerals. Both begin their enumeration from the true third column (i.e. their 1/I denotes in fact col. III recto of the papyrus). For the sake of simplicity, I generally follow PREISENDANZ’s system, since PGM is far more generally available than KENYON’s edition. 104 NODAR/TORALLAS TOVAR, Paleography, 60, follow KENYON in thinking the other three are a later addition. In the margin to the left of col. XXIX are 3 lines of writing, upside-down to the main text, apparently in the hand of the main scribe. 105 PREISENDANZ counts this as col. XXVIII, ll. 973–80. 106 Third century CE: KENYON, Greek Papyri I, 84: ‘probably of the third century’; PREISENDANZ agreed, but thought that his cols. XXIX–XXX were written in a fourth-century hand; fourth–fifth century CE: MALTOMINI, Homeromanteion, 108; ZOGRAFOU, Oracle homérique, 173, n. 1. 107 Early third century CE: BAGNALL, Christian Books, 83–5; fourth century CE: MARTÍN HERNÁNDEZ, Two Requests, 42; MARTÍN HERNÁNDEZ, Selección, 19, n. 10 (‘en torno al siglo IV d.C.’, with her reasons). NODAR/TORALLAS TOVAR, Paleography, 60–61, adduce the appearance of majuscule (Latin) D and H, typical of the post-Diocletianic Period, alongside continuing employment of koine minuscule. I find their vague use of the term ‘Byzantine’ perplexing, however. 108 KENYON, Greek Papyri I, viii; MARTÍN HERNÁNDEZ, Two Requests, 42: ‘trained…hand’; cf. NODAR/TORALLAS TOVAR, Paleography, 60 (citing R. MARTÍN): ‘professional [hand]’. KENYON’s transcript, much more informative than WESSELY’s, is invaluable for the points that follow. Except where noted (PR.), the line-references that follow are those of KENYON not PREISENDANZ (though they usually coincide).
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pound texts containing diverse sub-divisions.109 This man was evidently a professional copyist, who was familiar with abbreviations (of which there are many) and did not mind making mistakes and starting again, as at ll. 459–61, which have been crossed out and the same prescription begun again at 462–6.110 The corrections (either by the main scribe at a later date, as RAQUEL MARTÍN thinks, or by another hand, as KENYON thought) are in smaller letters, using ink that is now faint. For example, at the very top of col. V, just above l. 169, on the recto, which introduces a series of chemical tricks, this hand has written Δημοκρίτου παίγνια halfway along the line.111 On the verso, ωαω has been written above the vowel sequence ιαεω (l. 598), αὕτη γάρ a few lines lower (604), and δεόμενος καὶ ἱκετεύων ὅπως δεήσῃς τὸ δεῖνα to mark an insertion between ὅτι and ἐπικαλοῦμαι (l. 690).112 At 601 this hand has added a marginal note to explain an unclarity, at 605 another of 14 words, and at 756 entered the word εὐχή in the middle of the line to mark the prayer that follows. On the other hand this corrector has failed to observe many other errors, such as the repetition of καὶ ἐν αὐτῷ in l. 224, the word ἐπί for ἐγώ in l. 323, and in the following line the omission of several words. After l. 249 a space has been left for a drawing, but none was made.113 At 336 the form σκ[ο]πτικόν for κ[ο]πτικόν has not been corrected.114 Ll. 591–2 PR. probably belong to ll. 559–60. There are muddles at 766–79 and 780–85 which have not been resolved. The task of correction, even if it was done by the main scribe, was thus not taken very seriously. 3.2.2. The organisation of the text To turn now to the organisation proper, KENYON suggested the following rough divisions of the text: Recto: 1. The first four cols. (I*–II*, III–IV) are taken up by the 216 randomised Homeric lines which form the basis of the Homeromanteion for which this text is famous, and the list of dates when it may be used.115 Between the Homeric lines and the list is a 109
MARTÍN HERNÁNDEZ, Coherent Division, 149; MARTÍN HERNÁNDEZ, Selección, 19: ‘… un profesional no sólo en relación con el arte de la escritura, sino también en el de la compilación de antologías’. 110 There is a small number of mechanical copying errors throughout, especially in the Homeromanteion, listed by MARTÍN HERNÁNDEZ, Two More Verses. 111 The final α of this heading carries a very long flourish. On the basis of the similarity of the ink used, however, RAQUEL MARTÍN tells me she believes that it was added later by the main hand. Another addition is the two recipes against bugs and fleas (149–54), which have been inserted into the empty spaces on either side of the terminating sentence of the Homeromanteion (see below). 112 PREISENDANZ reads ποιήσῃς instead of δεήσῃς without noting the divergence in the apparatus. 113 Which might allow the inference that it was also missing in the Vorlage of this stele. 114 There is a word σκωπτικός, but it does not fit the context (στῖμι, eye-paint), since it means ‘joke-cracking’. 115 On the Homeromanteion, see MALTOMINI, Homeromanteion; KARANIKA, Homer; ZOGRAFOU, Oracle homérique; and MARTÍN HERNÁNDEZ, Using Homer; and MARTÍN HERNÁNDEZ, Two More Verses. Despite its title, the essay by DE. COLLINS, Magic of Homeric Verses, mentions the
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long zigzag line in which each ‘tooth’ is filled above with a tiny v and below with the same sign inverted (ᴧ), whose terminative function is spelled out in large, clearlywritten letters in the four short centrally-placed lines immediately below: -----------τέλος ἔχει -----------τῶν ἐπῶν ---------Ὁμηρομαντίου ----------ἐπ’ ἀγαθῷ -----------116
2. These four columns are followed by the Δημοκρίτου παίγνια (ll. 168–85),117 which are themselves again separated from the remainder of the column by a somewhat different wavy line, again across the entire width of the column, in which each zigzag contains a small circle (◦) above and below. Without any noticeable break, we find: 3. 186–221 (i.e. the remainder of cols. V and VI): rather commonplace magical recipes. 4. 222–71 (col. VII): recipes similar to those in P. Lond. 46 = PGM V but more elaborate than these. 5. 272–99 (col. VIII): more time-tables for divination. 6. 300–592 (cols. IX–XVII): 28 recipes, ending with a drawing of the ouroboros.118 Verso: 7. 593–973 (cols. XVIII–XXVII): 18 recipes, ending with an erotic prescription partly written in a cryptographic script. 8. [974–81 (col. XXVIII): an agogimon in a different hand.] 9. [981–1026 (cols. XXIX [placed at the beginning of the verso]–XXX): 4 recipes in another, later hand.]119 Despite its rather off-hand manner,120 KENYON’s account can stand as a very rough indication of the contents of P. Lond. I 121. My original hypothesis was that the ver-
Homeromanteion precisely once (p. 227) and, deplorably, refers consistently to the non-Christian magical papyri by means of Arabic numerals, which in PREISENDANZ’s system refer to the ‘Christian’ texts alone. NAETHER, Sortes Astrampsychi, provides a thorough account of these routinised forms of dice-divination against a fixed matrix. 116 As RAQUEL MARTÍN notes, this type of ‘horizontal filler’ is (roughly) paralleled in some literary papyri, while the termination formula reproduces that on Homeric manuscripts: MARTÍN HERNÁNDEZ, Coherent Division, 151–2. These intertextual allusions to high-status literary products are consistent with the apparent desire to produce in the text we have a ‘monumental’ version of an existing formulary. 117 On these παίγνια and their analogies elsewhere, esp. in the Cyranides, see MARTÍN HERNÁNDEZ, Ordenación, 22. 118 Reproduced in PREISENDANZ/HENRICHS (eds.), Papyri Graecae Magicae II, Pl. I, Fig. 4. 119 In the remainder of the paper, I exclude cols. XXVIII–XXIX from consideration.
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sion we have represents the process of collection of the individual praxeis, no doubt over several years, albeit at second hand, since the main text is a fair-copy written out straight121 and the copyist has taken care that in most cases the column end coincides with the end of a prescription.122 In the article I have already cited several times, however, RAQUEL MARTÍN has shown, on the basis of the distribution of identical lectional marks, that the core version of P. Lond. I 121 that we possess was constructed by the scribe (or an editor, if they were not identical) out of four pre-existing blocks of text, namely ll. 1–221; 222– 466; 467–592 (the end of the verso); and 593–972.123 This alone makes clear that my original hypothesis, that the core text directly reflects a historically-evolving practice, is implausible. The fact that the text begins with an Homeromanteion and Democritean tricks, which belong to the world of the symposium and its ‘client scholars’ rather than to a practice that looked to the temple for its legitimacy, likewise suggests that my original hypothesis was naïve.124 Nevertheless, MARTÍN’s division of the existing coretext is by no means incompatible with the hypothesis that her four major blocks are themselves composed of distinguishable pre-texts, which reflect their pre-history and so the process of composition, parallel to the case of LIDONNICI’s analysis of PGM IV. 3.2.3. Possible criteria for determining the pre-texts What criteria might we use for determining the number of the pre-texts (hereafter: Ptexts) out of which the four major text-blocks (the V-texts) were composed? Rather than looking only at the conscious organisational strategy of the main scribe, such as the use of characteristic lectional marks, we may note that there are a number of apparently ‘insignificant’ formal elements of the text, which seem not to have been of any concern to the main scribe himself but, on my present hypothesis, betray some of the differing habits of the authors/scribes of the various P-texts. These ‘insignificant’ elements include: – the different methods of indicating the voces magicae – the omission of headings – the use of lists to present complex information – less clearly, the incidence of special, i.e. non-standard, abbreviations. We must of course make some assumptions: that both the main scribe and the composers/copyist(s) of the four blocks (which we may denote V1,2,3,4) reproduced what was before them; and that the sequence of different recipes in V1,2,3,4 reproduces at least 120 KENYON was no great admirer of P. Lond. I 121, which he describes as ‘the longest of the magical papyri in the British Museum, though … not the most interesting’: KENYON, Greek Papyri I, 83. 121 Note however that the list of times suitable for using the Homeromanteion is crammed into the space at the bottom of col. IV, yet the elaborate termination formula is written in larger letters than the ordinary text, so that the list seems to have been added here as an afterthought, as must the two recipes against bugs and fleas, which are inserted on either side of the termination formula. 122 Apart from the Homeromanteion, the exceptions are 12/13, 13/14, 15/16, 24/25, 26/27. 123 MARTÍN HERNÁNDEZ, Coherent division. 124 For the role of ‘client scholars’ in the milieu of the symposium, see e.g. HAFNER, Lukians Schrift.
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roughly the historical accumulation of materials by their respective editors/copyists. Implicit support can be found for these assumptions if we look specifically for oddities. The so-called ὀνειρόμαντις μαθηματικός of Pythagoras and Democritus (795– 845) begins quite untypically without more ado with a description of an angel, ὁ εἰσερχὀμενος ἄγγελος, entering in the form of a friend of the practitioner with a star on his head, before the preparations for the ritual are described. It is also the only stele in the book that enjoins secrecy, requiring the reader to preserve this secrecy καὶ μετὰ τὴν ἀπὀλυσιν τοῦ βιοῦ τοῦ ἐμοῦ, ‘even after I am dead’ – the sole I-reference in the book, which must surely have been taken over directly from a letter by a correspondent. In another case, a recipe using the herb kynokephale or kynokephalidion is said to have been taken from a named formulary-book, the Diadem of Moses (620–27); here alone do we find a praxis – an extremely trivial praxis - for becoming invisible, which suddenly turns into an equally trivial agogimon (forcible erotic praxis). Both the citation and the creative but incompetent editing-work again imply that the P-text of this item was a letter sent by a correspondent inspired by the Diadem (assuming it ever existed).125 In another passage, at the beginning of col. XXIII, where a list of animalforms appears without any indication of its significance, it seems clear that the V-text here was itself defective, so it is likely that the relevant information was missing in the P-text. In her work on the lectional signs in P. Lond. I 121, RAQUEL MARTÍN rightly observed that, even if we accept her division of the text into four main sections, ‘it is not easy to find a logical order among the magical recipes by looking at the content’.126 In my view, there is no hope of finding a thematically-ordered system of recipes in such a formulary: the sole order to be found is the historical order of collection, selection and copying into the four blocks.127 In other words, the ‘deep temporality’ of P. Lond. I 121 is best established, if at all, not so much by means of lectional marks, which are mainly the work of the final scribe and seem to follow an informal code, but by looking at ‘unconscious’ features of the text, whose unobtrusiveness meant that the scribe simply accepted them as he went on with his work. The four ‘unobtrusive’ P-indicators of P. Lond. I 121, which I briefly listed above, can be specified as follows: 1. Voces magicae: We may distinguish four ways in which these especially significant items are treated in the text: – not differentiated from ordinary words – not differentiated but each separated by a dot or a colon – fixed by means of a line drawn above each individual vox
125
I use the term Vorlage(n) instead of ‘antigraph’ (the usual term in papyrology for the original from which an apograph is copied) because we cannot be sure at what remove from our text of P. Lond. I 121 the oddity in question first occurred. 126 MARTÍN HERNÁNDEZ, Coherent Division, 148. 127 I make some suggestions about the interests and priorities of the editor/scribe/user of the text as a whole in § 4 below.
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–
in the case of strings, a line may be drawn over the first vox to indicate the entire sequence.128 The most plausible explanation of these variations is that they reproduce differences within the successive Vorlagen themselves (the originals of which lie, in my view, at least two copies farther back). This seems to me the most telling criterion. Others are: 2. Missing titles for individual types of pragma: As I have observed, almost all the recipes in P. Lond. I 121 carry a heading. In the six cases where there are no headings, three of them clustered together at 467–504, we may plausibly suppose that the source text did not provide them either. 3. Use of lists: Long lists occur at four points, three of them widely separated.129 Listing seems to be a distinctive technique for ordering information, and one not favoured by most practitioners. Their occurrence here probably therefore indicates a separate Vorlage in each case. 4. Unusual abbreviations: Although standard abbreviations, such as Δ, λᵃ, λᵋ or λ̥, are extensively employed in P. Lond. I 121 (λᵋ indeed occurs far more often there than in all other magical papyri put together), a mark of the main scribe’s familiarity with this type of material, and tell us nothing about sources, our text also uses at certain points unusual abbreviations, such as Ж for νικητικὀν, Π̥ for ποτήριον, Πρ for πρᾶγμα, Ο for ὄνομα, Ονειρ for ὀνειραιτητόν, which only occur at irregular intervals once or twice in the text.130 Although they too might stem from the main scribe’s familiarity with bookproduction, their infrequency and lack of standardisation suggest that they too are ultimately derived from individual P-texts. Using all four criteria, I see roughly 33 different P-texts in the four blocks that compose the core formulary (i.e. up to the end of col. XXVIII).131 If we were to include the provision of charakteres or drawings in the stela, there might be even more.132 I take it that the shifts in the source-material, while partly due to serendipity, 128
These techniques, which are not exhaustive, are best apprehended in KENYON’s transcription, checked against photos of the papyrus. In a few places voces are simply indicated by leaving a space between them. And in one case, two voces are (partly) underlined (220). 129 Col. VIII, 272–83 (months in the Egyptian calendar), 284–99 (propitious days for magical enterprises, moon in zodiacal signs); col. XXIII–XXIV, 810–21 (list of zodiacal signs); col. XXVI, 898–907 (list of angels of the 12 hours). 130 Ж : 919, 924; Π̥: 385; 643; Πρ: 479, 537; ο: 316; 461, cf. 316, 715; Ονειρ: 795 (all these are unique to this text). 131 Excluding the additions in other hands, these are (using KENYON’s line numbering, which differs very slightly from PR. and GMPT, but the column-indications of PGM, see n. 103 above): Recto: cols. I*–IV (Homeromanteion and the times specified for use); 168–85 (Δημοκρίτου παίγνια); 186– 96; 197–214; 215–21; 222–49 (Bes oracle); 250–71 (end of col. VII); 272–98 (2 lists); 299; 300–318; 319–69 (end of col. X); 370–422; 423–66; 467–504; 505–78; 579–90; 591–2. Verso: 593–619; 620– 27; 628–63; 664–85; 686–702; 703–26; 727–39 (end of col. XXI); 740–55; 756–94; 795–845; 846– 61; 862–919 (Seleniakon of Claudianus); 920–25; 926–39; 940–69; 970–73. 132 Charakteres in widely-different quantities are provided at the following points (* means that the word χαρακτῆρ also occurs): cols. V–VI (a series of routine charms for curative purposes), 196*, 204, 205–6*, 208; cols. XI–XII (mostly for domination), 392*, 399, 415–16, 421–2*; col. XIII, 464– 5*; col. XVI, 588* (phylactery); cols. XXIII–XXIV, 810–21 (sigla for each of the 12 zodiacal signs; oneiraiteton); col. XXV, 860–61* (divination); col. XXVII, 925* (niketikon); col. XXVIII, 931–9*
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also register to some degree the gradual evolution of the interests and skills of the composers/editors of the four blocks, and perhaps an increase in the circle of their correspondents. This rather high total suggests a rather different type of collectionprocess from the case of the Great Paris codex (PGM IV), as analysed by LIDONNICI, one heavily reliant on correspondence and collection from fellow-practitioners and aquaintances. It so happens that the result of this analysis coincides exactly with MARTÍN’s proposed component blocks of P. Lond. I 121, namely V1,2,3,4. This can be most easily shown by means of a table (Table 1), which sets out in diagrammatic form the P-texts that on my hypothesis compose each of the V-texts proposed by MARTÍN. V1 was constituted by five P-texts, of which by far the most important was the Homeromanteion; V2 contained eight, almost all weighty and competent pragmata; V3 was the thinnest Vorlage, with only four, while V4 was the longest, with eleven ritual procedures filling almost four hundred lines of text.
4. Profiling the editor/scribe’s view of his competence The editor/scribe of the extant version of P. Lond. I 121, i.e. up to the end of column XXVII, thus had at his disposal four pre-existing formularies that contained altogether roughly 72 different stelai or pragmata or whatever we like to call individual prescriptions, counting each of the paignia separately but excluding the Homeromanteion and the list of permitted days for its use.133 We cannot tell whether the editor/scribe had himself collected, or contributed to, the contents of the V-texts, nor the extent to which individual pragmata were omitted from the V-texts. On balance, given the variety of ‘unobtrusive indicators’, it seems more likely that he simply followed their lead, i.e. took them over complete. Granted that in that case the editor/scribe was forced to take the chaff with the wheat, a look at the range of topics gives us a rough indication of the editor/scribe’s conception of his interests and capacities. As KENYON observed, the major concerns are 1) agogima, of which there are twelve (thirteen if we include one for male sexual potency, fourteen if we include another to appear in a dream to a woman, and seventeen if we include the three ἀγρυπνητικά for keeping a woman awake); and 2) divination by various means: apart from the Homeromanteion, dreams
(ὑποτακτικόν on a metal lamella). There are no charakteres after col. XXVII, i.e. after the end of the ‘original’ text. Drawings or diagrams occur at: col. VI, after l. 217 (PREISENDANZ/HENRICHS (eds.), Papyri Graecae Magicae II, Pl. I, Fig. 1); lower half of col. VIII, after l. 299, separated by a very long line (Pl. I, Fig. 2); the whole of col. XVII (i.e. after l. 590, the last col. on the recto) (Pl. I, Fig. 4); more or less the whole of col. XXVII, ll. 931–60 (Pl. I, Fig. 3). At l. 249 it is claimed that the drawing of Bes has been placed ἐν τῇ ἀρχῇ τῆς βίβλου, but so far as we can tell (col. I* is fragmentary) it is not there, so that the sentence should be taken as evidence of a Vorlage here in book-form, parallel to the Diadem of Moses). 133 I base myself on the enumeration in GMPT, xiii–xiv, which however treats the two stelai against bugs and fleas in 149–54 as one, and the variant in 250–59 as two.
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(9 cases), 134 autoptic vision (5), medium (perhaps 2), i.e. sixteen in all. The dozen pragmata for medicinal purposes all occur early on and are very brief. The remaining recipes include five phylacteries, plus one κάτοχος, to constrain spirit forces, and one containing ‘compulsive words’. There are six χαριτήσια and/or νικητικά plus two φιμωτικά, for subduing enemies. Finally there are a few isolated or unclassifiable cases: a recipe for forcing a woman to say where she has been; an elaborate but incoherent procedure for seeing one’s own daimon, a general ‘Please do for me …’-pragma on the model of the petition, and two prescriptions without headings for uncertain purposes.135 The additional materials after the end of column XXVII are compatible with these interests, with two divinatory texts, one ἀγώγιμον and one νικητικόν, but also offer a novelty, a text for ensuring good business. One is also struck by the frequency with which the practitioner is allowed to formulate his request freely: the expression τὰ κοινά, always abbreviated, occurs at least 18 times. And the editor/scribe strongly favoured stelai requiring the inscription of designs and charakteres on strips of metal. The poor showing of medical recipes, which include items to cure scorpion’s sting, rheumy eyes, headaches, coughs, lumps (i.e. swollen glands), fevers and to steady a wandering womb (260–71), suggests that healing formed a very minor part of the editor/scribe’s interests (and practice), though we should perhaps add the phylacteries, especially those against evil spirits and φαντάσματα (580) or against bad dreams (311– 17).136 In my view, the divinatory pragmata, apart from the Homeromanteion, which is accompanied by instructions for use, were primarily intended to enable the ritual specialist himself to experience dreams and revelatory visions so as to be able to respond to clients’ queries. Dreams are, after all, the easiest and most direct form of communication with the other world. A possible exception is the very simple pragma for appearing to a woman in a dream (407–10). It is striking that there are at most just two procedures with a medium. One of these (348–58) provides no explanation of how the session is to be organised: the boy just lies on the ground and at once φανήσεται αὐτῷ παιδίον μελάνχρουν, ‘a black-skinned child will appear (to him)’; only then is the formula given. In the other (540–78), the boy suddenly appears in the recipe without warning; in the last section, the writer was unable to explain clearly what he meant to happen and the performance ends in complete obscurity, so that this particular procedure could never actually have been performed as given. 137 Apart from divinatory enquiries, the editor/scribe, and the authors/compilers of his four V-texts, evidently thought their clients wanted access to otherwise unavailable women, to be attractive and charismatic and to do their enemies
134 222–49, 250–59 (disregarding the variant), 359–63, 478–90, 628–42, 664–85, 703–21, 740–55, 795–845. 135 Woman: 411–16; daimon: 505–28; petition: 686–702; uncertain: 86–702; 756–94. 136 The first of these (579–90 K./580–90 P.) is also to protect the wearer against πᾶσαν νόσον καὶ πἀθος. On the relation between traditional Egyptian medicine and the recipes in the Graeco-Egyptian papyri, see RODRÍGUEZ MORENO, Practicas therapeúticas. 137 Cf. HOPFNER, Offenbarungszauber II, §§ 220–21 (= II.2, 368–74).
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down, in other words, a fairly standard set of concerns for the clientele of the types of services offered by the materials of the PGM.138 We can discern in all this the roles such practitioners were cast in, as a means of escape from the daily sense of powerlessness and oppression by senior family-members, neighbours, owners of sex-workers, village overseers and other persons in authority, and, on the other hand, as a means whereby heads of families could obtain authoritative advice regarding decisions about family policy. Indeed one of the lists in col. VIII (284–99), which is paralleled by a very confused one in P. Mimaut (PGM III) 275–81 (PGM III.2), provides a primitive astrological scheme for organising the practitioner’s annual calendar based on the moon’s movements through the signs of the zodiac, in both cases beginning with Virgo, which would have been established by means of an almanac ephemeris of the usual type. 139 Each sign (apart from Virgo and corn) 140 receives a single topic, for example Scorpius for really malign magic (πανκακώσιμον or -α [?]),141 Aquarius for love-magic (φίλτρα), Cancer for phylacteries. This is one of several references to astrological knowledge in the book, and Mesekhtiou/the Great Bear/the ‘leg of Seth’ plays an important role in several texts.142 Toying with such astrological schemes is a sure sign of wanting to avail oneself of a new source of authority, one already conveniently routinised by others. If we now ask what our practitioner was not interested in, or the areas of knowledge his circle had no access to, the list is quite long. There is only one mention of eyepaint, and that cursory (335–6); there are almost no recipes requiring more than one or two botanical or animal ingredients, though bits taken from a sunken boat are twice required.143 There is not a single bowl divination144 and only one diabole (false slander 138
Cf. e.g. NAETHER, Griechisch-ägyptische Magie, 204–6. HOPFNER, Offenbarungszauber I, § 828 (= I, 553–4); GUNDEL, Weltbild, 34–5. The Egyptian and the Alexandrian year began with Thoth [September], the month of Virgo. 140 Virgo: the papyrus reads παναλωιον, for which PREISENDANZ suggested πανάλωτον, ‘allbezwingend(e Magie)’, HOPFNER πανάλκιμον, ‘überaus kräftig’; WÜNSCH implausibly invented a word πανάκειον, evidently intended to mean the same as πανακές. The sign Capricorn promises success with any type of praxis (ὅσα θέλεις). 141 The correcting hand has written μ above ι here, as after ἀγώγιμ (l. 295) and ἐπιλάλημ (l. 296), so PR. must have been correct to intuit a word παγκακώσιμον. For the form Scorpius, which is a Latinisation of the Greek name of the constellation σκορπίος (e.g. Aratus, Phaen. 85), see e.g. Verg. Georg. 1.35, Firm.Mat., Math. 2.11.10, 8.13.1–3, and R.L. BECK, Planetary Gods, 19–28, 36–8 etc. 142 686–702, 862–918, also 478–90 (Erotyllos is a star in the Great Bear), 632–3, cf. GUNDEL, Weltbild, 63–4. I do not count the list of zodiacal signs in the dream-request of Pythagoras and Democritus (810–21), since it implies no specifically astrological knowledge, though, as GUNDEL observes (p. 53–4), the type of brief pragmatic instruction implied here is otherwise totally lost. 143 Writing with a nail from a sunken boat: 466; lamp-wick from (the cable of a) sunken boat: 494–5. 144 One of the anonymous readers objects that the stele that concludes col. X (319–34), which is entitled αὔτοπτος, is in fact a bowl divination. The initial directions do indeed include filling a bronze bowl with rainwater; however, the stele in its surviving form is evidently the result of editorial splicing of at least two quite different recipes, in one of which the bowl seems to have been used to produce an ‘Osiris’ as an intermediary in the transaction. Moreover, the god Anubis is expected to speak propria voce, which is not usual in a bowl divination. 139
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against a target).145 Moreover, there is only one pragma containing extravagant compound adjectives, namely in the logos with medium at 354–5, which includes the words φρικτοπαλαίμονας, 146 φοβοδιάκτορας, σκοτιοερἐβους; the mistakes here indicate the copyist’s(~s’) unfamiliarity with such words.147 There is not a single certain palindrome, hardly any standard logoi; only two complex calligrams (715–25, 940– 60).148 There is only one Demotic (381) and one Coptic sign, dschandtscha (510, in an onoma).149 These absences, which are quite as important as the areas of interest, again suggest a (set of) practitioner(s) with a clear, but rather limited, view of his/their pragmatic role in relating to clients, their likely demands and what they might be prepared to pay. We cannot, of course, know whether the editor/scribe himself owned or composed other formularies: we can only draw conclusions about the type of skills (and their limitations) revealed by this one text.150
5. Transcultural resources I conclude with some brief remarks on the cultural resources revealed by the pragmata contained in the four V-texts. 5.1. Jewish resources Apart from some very cursory invocations of Iao Adonai Sabaoth, and once ‘IAKOUB IA Iao Sabaoth Adonai ABRASAX’ (649), there are virtually no allusions to Jewish materials.151 The two exceptions concern the praise-form ‘the One who is seated above the Cheruvim’. In the pragma to settle the womb that I have already mentioned, the offending organ is adjured by the One who sits over the Abyss, before the creation of the universe, who created the angels and sits above the Cheruvim (260–64). The creation of heaven and earth is alluded to once again in the prayer, before the finale: ‘Hal145
605–9. The target’s supposed insults are directed against Iao, Adonai, Sabaoth, PAGOURĒ, Michael (see p. 120). 146 The papyrus has φρικτοπολεμονας, which ADAM ABT, on the basis of the marvellous list of polysyllabic adjectives at PGM IV 1350–76, corrected to φρικτοπαλαίμονας, though this itself must be an idioysncratic form of *φρικτοπαλαμναίους, ‘fearfully avenging’, παλαμναῖος occurring several times in Greek literature with daimon in this sense. 147 Φοβοδιάκτορας is presumably a mistake for φοβεροδιακράτορας (which occurs next to φρικτοπαλαίμονας in the list at PGM IV 1353); σκοτιοερἐβους is written σκοτιοερεμ|βους (see IV 1361). All these errors were presumably in the Vorlage. I thank RAQUEL MARTÍN for help here. 148 PREISENDANZ understood the calligram in 715–25 as a palindrome covering two ‘wings’, but in fact the vox of 30 letters is simply repeated, and then reduced letter by letter. 149 However the squiggles below the drawing at 930–39 (PREISENDANZ/HENRICHS (eds.), Papyri Graecae Magicae II, Pl. I, Fig. 3) may once have been Demotic signs. 150 The other two magical papyri from Hermonthis, which are conventionally dated fourth–fifth century CE, seem to be somewhat later. 151 For the Diadem of Moses (619), see 114 above. For discussions of the rather limited presence of Jewish Kulturgut in the magical papyri, Demotic and Greek, see MARCOS, Motivos judíos, and now esp. QUACK, Alttestamentliche Motive. MARMOROUTH, IAEŌ,
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lelujah! Amen!’ (269–71) – omitting the usual ‘Selah’. This of course refers to the Hebrew expression yôšêb hak-kêrûbîm, ‘he who is enthroned on the cheruvim’, a metaphor for the majesty of Yahweh Zebaoth (e.g. 1 Sam 4:4 [κυρίου καθημένου χερουβιμ], Isa 37:16 etc.), still in use in the magical texts of the Cairo Genizah.152 The other reference to the Cheruvim is more enigmatic, since it occurs in a recipe to cause the ‘true Asklepios’, i.e. Imhotep, and not a πλανοδαίμων, a deceptive spirit, to appear to the practitioner (628–36).153 Here the phrase has evidently lost all connection to its Hebrew source and is on the way to becoming a routinised vox magica. The only other item relevant to Hebrew religious Kulturgut is the διαβολή at 593– 619, which, as noted above, involves a series of blasphemies imputed to the target, directed, uniquely in the entire PGM, against Adonai, Sabaoth, PAGOURĒ, MARMOROUTH (sic), IAEO and Michael; the latter, not said to be an archangel, is hermaphrodite (ἀρσενόθηλυς), IAEO οὐκ ἐπιστεὐθη τὴν λἀρνακα, ‘was not entrusted with the Ark of the Covenant’, MARMOROUTH was castrated and so on. Both PAGOURĒ and MARMORAŌTH are generally thought to be Aramaic epithets with solar connotations (PAGOURĒ is supposed to mean ‘dessen Licht schwindet/abnimmt’)154 found with Adonai Sabaoth, but the diabole implies more knowledge of Jewish lore than would be required simply to appropriate a vox magica. 5.2. Egyptian materials The substance of all the longer praxeis, however, is naturally Egyptian cosmogonic and religious thinking, ultimately derived from temple ritual practice. On my count, there are 19 relatively long recipes – the roll contains no very elaborate procedures – clearly based on Egyptian cosmology and/or invoking or alluding to Egyptian deities, Egyptian institutions, cosmology/astral lore and so on. JAN BERGMAN’s well-known analysis of an Egyptian theogony comes from the systasis for seeing one’s own daimon at ll. 505–28.155 Even in recipes that do not include such obvious signals, we find casual references to non-red lamps, Imhotep at Memphis, the intestines of Osiris (but also of Iao), the blood of a black cow, or goat or donkey; the brain of a black ram; a model papyrus boat; seeds of Nile reeds; a Typhonian figure; 365 knots and so on.156 The entire substructure of the formulary, as one would expect, is thus Egyptian temple-practice and temple lore.
152
E.g. SCHÄFER/SHAKED (eds.), Magische Texte III, 114–17, no. 65 [T.-S. K 1.78] l. 12. The last line could even be an indirect allusion, at several hands, to the Isaiah passage, which mentions the creation of heaven and earth. 153 I follow PREISENDANZ here, though J.F. QUACK tells me his interpretation is quite uncertain. 154 So JACOBY, in PREISENDANZ/HENRICHS (eds.), Papyri Graecae Magicae III, 229 s.v., repeated by BRASHEAR, Greek Magical Papyri, 3596 s.v. 155 BERGMAN, Egyptian Theogony. 156 Non-red lamp: 542; 628–31: Asklepios of Memphis (i.e. Imhotep), 633; the intestines of Osiris (and Iao): 645–6; the blood of a black cow, or goat or donkey: 652–4, 301; the brain of a black ram: 539; a model papyrus boat: 618; seeds of Nile reeds: 490–91; a Typhonian figure: 468; 365 knots: 452–3.
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5.3. Greek materials and allusions At the same time, many prescriptions, whatever their ritual base, have assimilated Greek Kulturgut so completely that we must speak of a now unself-conscious synthesis. Unlike many formularies, P. Lond. I 121 almost never claims that a stele has been taken from an Egyptian temple library; the one exception is the Seleniakon of Claudianus (862–918), the longest and most complex praxis in the collection. Yet even here an allusion to legitimation by appeal to Egyptian temple-practice is avoided by claiming that the library was that of ‘Aphrodite Ourania’ in Aphroditopolis.157 This ‘avoidance’ is consistent with the evidently deliberate choice of (pseudonymous) Greek rather than Egyptian legitimation displayed throughout this formulary, most evidently in the Homeromanteion itself.158 A couple of examples will serve to illustrate the degree of assimilation of Greek references. One is a pragma for an unmediated vision of a divinity (autoptos [logos or systasis]).159 The practitioner is to wear shoes made of wolf-skin, a clear reference to Homeric Apollo Lykeios, and a crown of sampsychi, which Dioscorides tells us is a ‘foreign name’ for the plant the Sicilians and Cyzicenes call amarakos, which is indeed made into crowns.160 In the first recipe in the ‘ὀνειρόμαντις μαθηματικός of Pythagoras and Democritus’ (795–845), to evoke a divine intermediary of Helios, the practitioner is to write the Greek names of the signs of the zodiac with voces on individual laurel leaves, and keep them on his person (ἐν στέρνοις) for successful evocation.161 This appropriation extends even to apparently insignificant details, of which I cite two at random. In the prescription for a lychnomanteion with a medium who just appears from nowhere (540–78), there is a tiny but interesting detail: after a sequence of 43 terrific voces magicae/onomata barbara, to be recited three times over, the boymedium is anticipated as saying, in Greek, ὁρῶ τὸν κύριόν συ ἐν τῷ φωτί (578). Even the boy is imagined as speaking Greek – has been assimilated into the Hellenophone scenario. The preceding praxis is a νικητικόν (528–39) that requires the use of the herb katananke. Both Dioscorides and Pliny tell us that this plant was used by Thessalian women, Dioscorides for philtres i.e. love magic, Pliny ad detegendas magi-
157
Aphrodite Ourania is known to have been the Greek equivalent of Hathor at Kusai (El Quseyya) on the West bank in the Thebaïs (cf. Ael. NA 10.27; CLÈRE, Deux nouvelles plaques, 16–22; ROBERT, Bulletin, 211, § 241 [I thank the editors for correcting me on this point]). Aphroditopolis was the Greek name of at least five cities or towns on the Nile, presumably named in honour of Hathor. The most likely candidate here is no doubt modern Atfih in Middle Egypt, where Hathor was worshipped as a white cow (Str. 17.1.35, 809C). 158 MARTÍN HERNÁNDEZ, Selección, 26, who rightly points to the cultural orientation both of the compilers of V1,2,34 and of the implied reader. 159 PGM VII 727–39. The fullest account is still HOPFNER, Offenbarungszauber II, §§ 120–61 (= II.1, 193–256). 160 Dsc. Mat. med. 3.38–9. 161 The reference to Pythagoras and Democritus perhaps implies that the original came from a pseudonymous ‘Magian’ book. The second part of the recipe (822–45) has clearly been taken from another praxis entirely.
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cas vanitates.162 Pliny also notes that as it dries, it takes on the shape of the claws of a kite, i.e. a carrion-eating bird. This plant is generally identified as Ornithopus compressus, known in various modern languages as Yellow Birdsfoot, Flachshülsiger Vogelfuß, pie de pájaro, in Catalan ungla di canari. The idea of using it in a niketikon evidently derives from the claw-like appearance of the dried seed-pods. We can have no idea how this tradition got into a relatively low-grade Graeco-Egyptian stele for getting the better of opponents. But the tiny detail gives us a vivid insight into the intensity with which Greek Kulturgut was appropriated in the process of constructing the Graeco-Egyptian magical tradition.
6. Conclusion In his excellent recent account of the long-term development of the Graeco-Egyptian charitesion from the Demotic models down into Coptic magic, THEODORE DE BRUYN emphasises the cultic tradition within which the practitioners were working. Re/P(h)re/Helios is called upon in traditional Egyptian cadences, as Helios in Greco-Egyptian fashion, as the high god in the company of Jewish angels. These different forms of address … are derivative of a cultic milieu, some more immediately than others. That is to say, they draw on traditions that developed in specific cultic settings, be that the traditional Egyptian temple cult, the more cosmopolitan Hellenistic world, Jewish circles in Alexandria and elsewhere, the devotees of Hermes, or a Valentinian Christian community.163
Looking at the development of a specific magical genre over a long period allows us to appreciate the negotiation between generic pressures, above all the prayer-form, and more contingent considerations, such as the stocking of the divine apparatus, locutionary devices or social mores. In this perspective, individual choices are less important than the external pressures. Focusing on individual pragmata, especially complex ones, such as the ‘Mithras liturgy’ or the ‘Cat ritual’ in P. Mimaut (PGM III) 1– 164 (PGM III.1), provides indispensable insight into the theological and ritual imagination of hypothetical ritual specialists.164 By contrast, examination of a single ‘ambitious collection’, with heterogeneous contents, foregrounds the theme of individual choice, even if at some remove, and so allows us to reconstruct, at any rate in outline, a (loose group of) practitioner’s(~s’) sense of his/their own capabilities and the demands of the clientele. In the case of P. Lond. I 121 (PGM VII), we may judge, the circulation of recipes within epistolary ‘communities’ played a preponderant role in freeing individual practitioners from the limitations of their own practice and thus giving them an edge in the competition with others in the same street, quarter or district. Even local reputation is a demanding master.
162
Plin. HN 27.57; Dsc. Mat. med. 4.31. DE BRUYN, Anatomy, 42. 164 Mithras liturgy (PGM IV 475–829); Cat ritual: HARRAUER, Meliouchos, 15–25. 163
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Table 1: The correlation beween the V1–4 structure and the hypothetical P-texts of P. Lond. I 121 V1 recto (1–221) V2 (222–466)
V3 (467–592) V4 verso (593–973)
cols. I*–IV (Homeromanteion and the times specified for use) 222–49 (Bes oracle) 319–69 (end of col. X) 467–504 593–619 703–26 846–61 970–73
168–85 (Δημοκρίτου παίγνια)
186–96
197–214
215–21
250–71 (end of col. VII)
299
300–318
370–422
272–98 (2 lists) 423–66
505–78
579–90
591–2
620–27 727–39 (end of col. XXI) 862–919 (Seleniakon of Claudianus)
628–63 740–55
664-85 756–94
686–702 795–845
919–25
926–39
940–69
Illuminating Encounters: Reflections on Cultural Plurality in Lamp Divination Rituals SVENJA NAGEL 1. Introduction This contribution is concerned with the practice of lamp divination or lychnomancy that is documented in the Greek and Demotic magical papyri (PGM and PDM) from Roman Egypt. The paper is divided into two main sections: – The first part presents a general overview of the ritual practice, the spells belonging to it and their core elements.1 – In the second part, one relatively late spell of this genre (PGM IV 930–1114) is discussed as a case study. Taking my departure in this specific example, I will try to demonstrate in which way multiple cultural traditions were fused during the process of copying and adapting spells for this technique.
2. The practice of lamp divination (lychnomancy) 2.1. (Pragmatic) Definition and interrelations with other divination practices Under the heading lychnomancy we subsume rituals for divination in which the invoked god or demon is supposed to appear directly by means of the flame of a lamp. Spells for dream oracles – as discussed by LJUBA M. BORTOLANI within this volume – in which a lamp is also used, but the god appears in a dream after the practitioner went to sleep, are excluded in this narrow definition since the final ‘medium’ for the god is obviously the dream. 2 Nevertheless, both practices are strongly related and furthermore, some of the spells considered here as lychnomancy actually present several alternative techniques, sometimes including a dream oracle after conducting the rituals and invocations (with variations or not) that are also valid for conjuring up the god directly in the flame.3 1
This section is a strongly abbreviated version of my more extensive chapter on lamp divination within a monograph on divination rituals in the PGM/PDM that is currently being prepared by L.M. BORTOLANI and myself. 2 One could label those techniques in which a lamp is used but the god does not appear in/at/around it, ‘indirect lamp divinations’. 3 P. Mag. LL, 5, 1–33; 6, 1–8, 11; 27, 13–36; and maybe PGM II 64–183 (although a dream is not explicitly mentioned, only: ‘go to sleep’). In contrast, PGM VIII 64–110 mainly contains instructions for a dream oracle but gives an alternative option at ll. 85–9 for an awake vision that is obviously
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The spells for lamp divination also have a number of similarities to those for bowl divination or lecanomancy:4 these two genres are attested especially often in the Demotic magical manuscripts. Both objects, lamp and bowl, have to be filled with a liquid: oil in the case of the lamp; water, oil or a mixture of both in the case of the bowl. To create a vision and see an appearance of the gods, the practitioner usually has to look into the flickering light of the flame or into the reflecting liquid surface of the bowl respectively. A sequence of closing and opening the eyes is often prescribed to provoke the visual effects. In both ritual techniques a divine light is supposed to emerge and make the epiphany of a deity possible. Despite their similarities, it is noticeable that lamp divination rituals are in most cases directed to a solar deity, whereas during bowl divination chthonic deities and spirits, e.g. Osiris or Anubis, are often invoked. Another strong connection can be observed between the lamp divinations and a subgroup of divination rituals that might be called ‘sunlight divination’.5 Both groups use the light as central medium for the god, and the practitioner or a boy medium usually has to stare into it. 2.2. Status of research on lamp divination Up to now, there have only been two attempts at a more or less comprehensive survey and analysis of the lychnomancy spells: the first one by HOPFNER does not include all of the spells6 and is outdated by now, and the recent overview by GEE is problematic and inaccurate in several respects.7 Furthermore, GEE mainly gives an overview of the Demotic spells and quotes parallel sections of the Greek spells on some occasions only. ZOGRAFOU as well as CALVO MARTÍNEZ discuss some main aspects of the use of lamps in the PGM, but do not include the Demotic texts.8 2.3. Sources: the manuscripts and the organisation of the spells All in all, 14 extant spells can be counted in which the invoked god is supposed to appear directly by means of the flame of the lamp (at least as one alternative): PGM I 262–347 achieved by the preparation of a lamp and a recitation to it, thus being in line with lychnomancy spells. 4 Cf. on the strong relations between both practices also CUNEN, Lampe et coupe. 5 Cf. also QUACK, Postulated and Real Efficacy, 47. E.g. the divination rituals with a boy P. Mag. LL, 29, 1–20 and P. Mag. LL, 29, 20–30 belong to this group of ‘sunlight divination’. 6 HOPFNER, Offenbarungszauber II, §§ 212–27: the Demotic spell sequence P. Mag. LL, 16, 1–17; 16, 18–30; 17, 1–26; and 17, 26–18, 6 is left out. See below (2.3) for a full list of lamp divination spells. 7 GEE, Lamp Divination. GEE does not even acknowledge HOPFNER’s groundwork (p. 207: ‘Hopfner’s classic study (...) scarcely mentions it’, with reference to HOPFNER, Offenbarungszauber, 554, § 828, i.e. vol. I, which means that GEE obviously did not look at vol. II. 8 ZOGRAFOU, Magic Lamps; CALVO MARTÍNEZ, Morfología. For the Greek and Demotic spells see however the remarks by QUACK, Postulated and Real Efficacy, passim (within the wider context of the divination rituals in the PGM/PDM).
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PGM II 64–183 PGM IV 930–1114 PGM VII 540–78 PGM VIII 64–110 P. Mag. LL, 5, 1–33 = PDM xiv 117–49
P. Mag. LL, 6, 1–8, 11 = PDM xiv 150–231 P. Mag. LL, 16, 1–17 = PDM xiv 459–75 P. Mag. LL, 16, 18–30 = PDM xiv 476–88 P. Mag. LL, 17, 1–26 = PDM xiv 489–515 P. Mag. LL, 17, 26–18, 6 = PDM xiv 515–27 P. Mag. LL, 25, 1–22 = PDM xiv 750–71 P. Mag. LL, 27, 13–36 = PDM xiv 817–40 PSI Inv. D 90
Case study, see below with boy dream oracle with alternative option for lamp divination dream oracle with an invocation typical of lamp divinations and alternative option for lamp divination + addition/footnote on vs.: P. Mag. LL vs., 31, 1–7 = PDM xiv 1199–205 with boy, also option for dream oracle and another option for lamp divination without a boy9 with boy with boy with boy with boy with boy with boy, or alone, and also a section for a dream oracle with boy (Demotic papyrus from Tebtynis)10
Sometimes, the separation of successive instructions for rituals, alternatives and invocations into individual spells is not absolutely obvious. In some cases, subsequent ‘spells’ (in the way they are separated in BETZ’s collection)11 are or might be in fact only alternative instructions for some parts of the previous ritual. For instance, the title of P. Mag. LL, 16, 18–30, k¥ gy n.|m=f on ‘Yet another method of it’, refers back to the previous spell P. Mag. LL, 16, 1–17; considering the fact that the latter incorporates only invocations with minimal instructions, whereas the first gives a detailed ritual procedure but only one alternative invocation, it is quite likely that they belong together as one spell. This single spell would exactly fill the column 16 of P. Mag. LL, which further supports this idea. A similar case can be made for the two following instructions P. Mag. LL, 17, 1–26 and P. Mag. LL, 17, 26–18, 6, the latter being only a variation of the former’s central invocation.12 A very recent addition to the corpus is PSI Inv. D 90, the fragmentary remains of a Demotic magical handbook, identified by JOACHIM FRIEDRICH QUACK and currently in preparation for an edition by him. The differing provenance – Tebtynis instead of Thebes – and a slightly earlier date – probably the early second century – set it a little bit apart from the other attestations (end of the second/beginning of the third to fourth or fifth century) and make it especially interesting for the analysis of this ritual technique’s development in Egypt.
9
I examine this spell as a case study with extensive commentary within the monograph on divination spells prepared by L.M. BORTOLANI and myself. 10 An edition is currently being prepared by J.F. QUACK. 11 BETZ (ed.), GMPT. 12 They are already counted as parts of one spell by the original editors GRIFFITH/THOMPSON, Demotic Magical Papyrus I, 14, but separated in BETZ (ed.), GMPT.
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All the other extant Demotic lychnomancy spells are concentrated on the manuscript P. Mag. LL (PDM xiv) exclusively. Moreover, these recipes are strongly interrelated with each other and can probably be traced back to only one basic technique, which was expanded over time into several alternative details and variations. The huge handbook P. Mag. LL shows several sequences of spells belonging to common thematic groups like ‘divination’ or ‘love magic’. This means that at least large parts of the spells were organised in a reasonable order, perhaps not by the compiler of P. Mag. LL itself, but rather by the respective editors/scribes responsible for the various master copies from which the spells of P. Mag. LL were presumably assembled. Throughout the papyrus three such clusters of divination spells can be observed on the recto side: 1. cols. 1–10: 2. cols. 16–18: 3. cols. 27–9:
largest group of divination spells, with mainly long instructions for basic techniques, including many details. mainly lamp + one bowl divination, with many alternatives, less detailed than group I. mixed group with shorter spells (each c. half a column long), including one nearly exact duplicate of a lamp divination spell in group I, and one of a bowl divination as well.13
Lamp divination spells are a subgroup within all three of these clusters and they are the main focus of group II. In contrast, within the Greek magical handbooks, only four single lychnomancy spells are scattered over the four manuscripts PGM I, II, IV and VII, plus one lychnomancy alternative to a dream oracle spell in PGM VIII, whereas all the other Greek papyri do not contain any direct lamp divination at all. While those of PGM I and II (PGM I 262–347 and PGM II 64–183) can be considered as related, the others (PGM IV 930– 1114, VII 540–78 and VIII 64–110) are quite divergent in ritual details. 2.4. Titles The texts subsumed here under the heading ‘Lamp divination (Lychnomancy)’ actually comprise spells that were given quite varying titles by their original ancient compilers, even within one and the same manuscript.14 We have to consider that the ancient authors’/compilers’ criteria for choosing a title were obviously somewhat distinct from ours: thus, a Demotic title corresponding to our modern categorisation would be wo Sn n p# xbs (‘An inquiry/oracle of the lamp’), but it designates only one15 of the nine extant Demotic lamp divination rituals. Its Greek equivalent is Λυχνομαντεῖον (‘Light/Lamp oracle’) that is also only given as a title to one16 of the Greek spells of
13 Lamp divination parallels: P. Mag. LL, 5, 1–33 (group I) and P. Mag. LL, 27, 13–36 (group III). Bowl divination parallels: P. Mag. LL, 10, 22–35 (group I) and P. Mag. LL, 27, 1–12 (group III). 14 This is certainly the case for the numerous spells in P. Mag. LL. 15 P. Mag. LL, 6, 1–8, 11. 16 PGM VII 540–78.
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this genre. Other Demotic titles, however, do at least refer to the central object, the lamp, with other words.17 2.5. Ritual procedures Basically, the extant lamp divination spells seem to belong to two different groups, one with a more ‘Egyptian’ tradition, the other with a strong ‘Greek’ and more specifically, Apollonian background with probable roots in the official divination procedures of famous Apollo sanctuaries. 18 The spells of each group share many common elements. All the Demotic spells belong to the first group, but also the two Greek spells PGM IV 930–1114 and PGM VII 540–78 as well as the alternative option of PGM VIII 64–110 can be counted among them. The second group consists only of the two Greek spells PGM I 262–347 and PGM II 64–183. Type 1. The most extensive and detailed ritual instruction for the ‘Egyptian type’ is the long spell P. Mag. LL, 6, 1–8, 11, containing many elements that reappear in the other spells, and giving several alternatives for single aspects of the ritual. Furthermore, the contents, script and language of the spell show certain chronologically older characteristics in some sections (e.g. the frequent use of outdated words and grammatical structures as well as of the older Hieratic script), pointing to an earlier date of composition than other parts of the manuscript.19 The core ritual generally takes place in a room, in which the lamp is set up. The exact setting and configuration of the lamp is usually described in great detail since it constitutes the most important part of the ritual. In most cases of the ‘Egyptian type’ a child is used as a medium, but sometimes the magician can also conduct the ritual alone and thereby see the gods himself, if he prefers that. The appearance of a deity or demon is usually produced by a sequence of closing and opening the eyes to look at the lamp (which is done by the magician himself or the boy),20 while reciting to the lamp (done by the magician and sometimes the boy)21 and, in rituals with a medium, to the boy (done by the magician).22 17
E.g. n# md.wt n p# xbs ‘The words of (or: for) the lamp’ (P. Mag. LL, 16, 1–17). An extension of this including also the child medium used for the respective practice is n# md.wt n p# xbs r Sn n p# olw ‘The words of/for the lamp to question the child’ (P. Mag. LL, 25, 1–22). 18 For lychnomancies/dream oracles with such a background cf. also the contribution by L.M. BORTOLANI in this volume. 19 Cf. QUACK, En route, esp. 192. 20 In PGM IV 930–1114; P. Mag. LL, 6, 1–8, 11; 16, 18–30; 17, 1–26; 17, 26–18, 6 (closing implied); 25, 1–22; 27, 13–36; PSI Inv. D 90. P. Mag. LL, 5, 1–33, which is a ritual for the magician alone and basically to be used as a dream oracle, only gives the order to look at the lamp (without closing the eyes first). No instructions about looking or not looking at all are given in PGM VII 540– 578, VIII 64–110 and P. Mag. LL, 16, 1–17, all of which are lacking detailed instructions anyway. 21 Explicitly in PGM IV 930–1114; P. Mag. LL, 5, 1–33; 6, 1–8, 11; 16, 1–17; 17, 1–26; 27, 13– 36; PSI Inv. D 90. Probably implied also in PGM VII 540–78, VIII 64–110 and P. Mag. LL, 17, 26– 18, 6. 22 P. Mag. LL, 6, 1–8, 11; 16, 1–17; 16, 18–30; 17, 1–26; 17, 26–18, 6; 25, 1–22; 27, 13–36; and probably implied in PGM VII 540–78.
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Type 2. The ‘Greek’ or ‘Apollonian type’ of the extant lamp divination rituals also uses the lamp to make the deity appear in/around it, but here it does not seem to be the only central element. In both spells of this group, PGM I 262–347 and PGM II 64–183, Apollo is adressed as main deity with Greek hexametrical hymns and, accordingly, laurel sprigs and leaves are used to influence him, as laurel was considered his sacred plant. The laurel leaves are supposed to be inscribed with magical names or characters. In the course of the rituals a throne and a couch or footstool are set up and covered with linen, probably to receive the appearance of the god.23 Quite in contrast to the ‘Egyptian type’, the ‘Greek type’-spells make a point of prescribing detailed food offerings, libations and burnt offerings for the deity.
3. Case study: PGM IV 930–1114 3.1. Title(s) The spell PGM IV 930–1114 is entitled Αὔτοπτος (‘visible in person’ or ‘awake vision’), which is a rather general term used also for other divination spells24 that produce a vision of the invoked deity instead of a dream. However, in the first recitation of the case study spell, in l. 953, the title is specified to αὐτόπτου λυχνομαντία, ‘lamp divination for awake vision’, and the term λυχνομαντία corresponds with the title Λυχνομαντεῖον used for the Greek lamp divination spell of PGM VII 540–78. 3.2. Position and interrelations within the manuscript The case study spell is contained in the largest known magical handbook, the codex Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale suppl. gr. no. 574, which is usually dated to the fourth century CE.25 In spite of its Greek script and mainly Greek language, this manuscript also contains spells with a strong Egyptian background, partly even written in Old Coptic. Following the very insightful study by LYNN LIDONNICI on compositional patterns in PGM IV,26 the spell under discussion belongs to a group of four divinatory spells followed by one seemingly unrelated exorcism spell: PGM IV 850–929 PGM IV 930–1114 PGM IV 1115–66 PGM IV 1167–226 PGM IV 1227–64 23
‘Solomon’s collapse’ (divination with possessed medium) ‘Visible in person’ (lychnomancy) ‘Hidden stele’ (divinatory invocation) ‘Stele that is useful for all things’ (divinatory invocation) ‘Excellent rite for driving out demons’ (exorcism spell)
On these elements cf. NAGEL, ‘Was im Tempel passiert’, 511–12. PGM III 291 (now PGM III.2, see LOVE, ‘PGM III’ Archive); III 699 (PGM III.1); V 54 (lecanomancy); Va 3; VII 319 (lecanomancy); VII 335 (Αὐτοπτική); VII 727; VIII 85 (alternative to dream oracle). 25 For PGM IV as a whole see LIDONNICI, Compositional Patterns; PREISENDANZ, Zum großen Pariser Zauberpapyrus; SATZINGER, Old Coptic Text, 213–14. For the Old Coptic sections ibid., and ERMAN, Ägyptische Beschwörungen; GRIFFITH, Old Coptic Magical Texts; new edition by LOVE, Code-Switching. 26 LIDONNICI, Compositional Patterns. 24
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In fact, the exorcism spell could in my opinion have been loosely connected as an auxiliary spell, because at least the first spell of this group operates by possession, so it could have been added as a possible counteragent. There seem to be some parallel cases where divination spells are also followed by exorcisms or phylacteries against daimons.27 The whole group is separated by blank spaces from the following cluster of spells.28 Furthermore, all the spells of this group are additionally connected by some details within the contents, like references and invocations of the Jewish/Christian god, Jewish patriarchs, Jerusalem etc. Thus, the whole group was probably copied together from one older original manuscript.29 3.3 Formal structure of the spell The complex lamp divination spell of PGM IV shows a very clear structure and contains many different sections that are marked in the manuscript by individual headings and mostly also by paragraphoi, some of them straight and some forked ones. This density of section-markers is unusual and not typical for the manuscript of PGM IV as a whole.30 The complete spell is also separated from the preceding one (‘Solomon’s collapse’) by circa two blank lines and a forked paragraphos. The spell is thus structured as follows: Table 1: Structure of PGM IV 930–1114 Lines of section 930– 1114
930–55
Lines of subsection
933–6 938–55 955–74
955–8
Heading or subheading
Contents of the section/subsection
αὔτοπτος ‘Visible in person/ awake vision’ σύστασις ‘Encounter/ communion (with god)’ –
Spell for lamp divination
λόγος ‘Recitation’ φωταγωγία ‘Light-bringing charm’ –
Initial prayer for the support of the sun-god, which is to be spoken first to the sunrise, then to the lamp
Insertion of preparatory instructions: dress and other attire for divination Invocation of sun-god: hexametrical hymn + prose prayer Prayer to the lamp
Instructions for the prayer to the lamp (attire and posture)
27 E.g. in the same manuscript: the sequence of divinatory rituals PGM IV 1–85 is directly followed by a very short ‘Phylactery against daimons’ (PGM IV 86–7). 28 LIDONNICI, Compositional Patterns, 164. 29 LIDONNICI, Compositional Patterns, 164–6. 30 LIDONNICI, Compositional Patterns, 165.
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974–7 978–85 985– 1035 985–6 987– 1035 1035–46
1035–6 1037–46 1047–52 1047–9 1049–52 1053–6
1057–65 1057–60 1061–5 1065–71
1065–70 1070–71 1071–84
1075–80 1085– 100 1103–14
λόγος ‘Recitation’ κάτοχος τοῦ φωτὸς ‘Lightretaining spell’ – λόγος ‘Recitation’ θεαγωγὸς λόγος ‘Godbringing spell’ – –
Invocation of the lightbringing god
ἐπάναγκος ‘Compulsion spell’ – – χαιρετισμός ‘Salutation’ – – κάτοχος τοῦ θεοῦ ‘Godretaining charm’ ἀπόλυσις ‘Dismissal’ – – τῆς αὐγῆς ἀπόλυσις ‘Dismissal of the brightness’ –
Compulsion spell to use in the case the god does not come
– φυλακτήριον τῆς πράξεως ‘Phylactery for the rite’ – ποίησις ‘Procedure’ σημεῖα τοῦ λύχνου ‘Signs of the lamp’
Prayer in order to keep the light
Instructions for the prayer to the light + explanation Invocation of the light Prayer to the solar creator god to enter and answer
Instructions for the prayer to the solar creator god Invocation of Horus Harpokrates
Instructions for the compulsion spell Invocation of the superior god Greeting of the solar creator god after his entering Instructions for the greeting Invocation of Horus Harpokrates Ιnstructions for the ritual of retaining the god
Dismissal of the solar creator god Instructions for the dismissal ritual Prayer of thanks to BAINCHŌŌŌCH Dismissal of the brightness
Prayer to the light to leave + explanatory remark (by redactor) Instructions for the dismissal of the brightness Ritual instructions for the phylactery
Spell to be written on the phylactery Ritual instructions for the setting of the core ritual Comment: additional explanations of how exactly the god will be seen in the light
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As is obvious from this table, the actual ritual instructions for the core part of this ritual are only given towards the end of the spell (ll. 1071–100), whereas all the different recitations that are to be uttered during the procedure are strung together in the first three quarters of the written recipe (ll. 930–1071). In contrast, the comparably detailed Demotic lychnomancies of the first part of P. Mag LL31 as well as the Egyptian type Greek spell of PGM VII32 describe the praxis first, and provide the diverse logoi afterwards.33 Furthermore, some of the sections contained in the spell under discussion are not part of the actual core ritual, but serve as additional rituals or information that help to make the performance easier: a compulsion spell (ll. 1035–46), a phylactery (ll. 1071– 84), two separate dismissals (ll. 1057–65 and 1065–71) and explanatory comments (ll. 1103–14), many of which are lacking in many of the other attested lychnomancies. Dismissals and phylacteries, however, are not obviously used at all in the Demotic lamp divinations – a point to which I will come back again below. In the following, I present some comments on the various subsections and compare them with corresponding passages in the other lamp divination recipes. 3.4. Ritual instructions for the setting of the core ritual: lamp, place/space and time In contrast to the order of the written formulary, I begin with the instructions for the setting of the core ritual (ll. 1085–100) as they present the main elements specific to lamp divination. As in all the other ‘Egyptian type’ lamp divination spells that preserve ritual instructions, including the other Greek language example of PGM VII 540–78, the main part of the ritual takes place in a room or house, constituting a demarcated space for the encounter with a deity. The creation of space or even sacred space is furthermore enhanced by the instruction to tie papyrus cords to the four corners of the room in the shape of an X, in the middle of which a mat and the lamp have to be placed. The ritual is thereby embedded into the structure of the cosmos with its four cardinal directions, which play an important role in Egyptian temple rituals as well,34 and it is thus associated with creation. The tying of the papyrus cords is probably derived from the ‘Stretching the Cord’-ritual (pD Ssr) within the Egyptian temple founding ceremony that is attested throughout Egyptian history from the Old Kingdom up to Roman times.35 Plus, by placing the lamp in the middle of the X, the medium of the deity’s 31
P. Mag. LL, 5, 1–33 (as well as its parallel P. Mag. LL, 27, 13–36) and 6, 1–8, 11. PGM VII 540–78. 33 Unfortunately, the older Demotic example from Tebtynis (PSI Inv. D 90) does not preserve the part with the ritual instructions. 34 See, in general, e.g. RAVEN, Egyptian Concepts; on the creation of sacred space in the divination rituals of the magical papyri as based on Egyptian rituals see in more detail NAGEL, ‘Was im Tempel passiert’. 35 See PARK, Stretching; LABRIQUE, Stylistique, 245–51; LEITZ, Astronomie, 61. Cf. for instance Edfou II, 31, 4–5: ‘I take the rod and I seize the handle of the mallet. I measure with Seshat. I turn my face to the path of the stars, I let my eyes reach the Foreleg (= the Great Bear) while ck-oHo (= Thoth) is at the side of his angle-perpendicular. I fix the four corners of the temple’. 32
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epiphany stands symbolically in the centre of the universe. If we compare this instruction with those of the Demotic lychnomancy recipes of P. Mag. LL, the latter are a little less detailed and the lamp is always put on a brick and not on a mat. However, in Egyptian tradition bricks – often four of them – played an important role within several ritual contexts, the most self-evident one being again the foundation of the temple.36 They, too, served the delimitation of a cosmic space by giving an orientation according to the four cardinal points37 and thus represented a repetition of creation. Therefore, the overall symbolism is the same, but for some reason the bricks used in the Demotic spells were not adopted in any of the Greek language spells.38 As usual, a lamp has to be prepared with olive oil and a wick, which in this case has to be fashioned from reed grass and additionally rubbed with fat of a black, male, firstborn and first-reared ram. The material ‘reed grass’ is expressed by the Egyptian/Semitic word #xy transcribed into Greek (‘the so-called ἄχι’),39 which points to an Egyptian origin of this part of the spell. Furthermore, the reason for the employment of reed grass in the first place is probably its affiliation or ‘magical sympathy’ with Horus/Harpokrates, the invoked god of the spell: the child Harpokrates was raised by his mother Isis in the reed marshes of the Delta, and therefore he is for instance also called nb yx.w ‘lord of reed grass’ in a papyrus offering scene in the temple of Edfu.40 Similarly, this might be the reason for the usage of papyrus cords to tie to the four corners of the room. Substances of a (black) ram are used in several magical recipes addressed to the Egyptian sun-god41 since the ram is his manifestation in the evening/at night.42 Also 36
See e.g. ABD EL-AZIM EL-ADLY, Gründungs- und Weiheritual; LABRIQUE, Stylistique, 261–5. RAVEN, Egyptian Concepts, 51. 38 Maybe the instruction to set a lamp upon a lampstand ‘fashioned from virgin soil’ in the dream oracle spell PGM VI 1–47+II 1–64 (for PGM VI and II being part of the same papyrus, see CHRONOPOULOU, PGM VI), is a derivation from the Egyptian practices with new bricks, especially since an ‘uncorrupted boy’ is also involved. Cf. maybe also the instruction in PGM I 262–347 to ‘construct an altar of unburnt clay near the head (of the wolf) and the lamp so that you may sacrifice to the god’ (ll. 282–4). 39 PGM IV 1091. See for this word and its attestations in other languages CDD, #, 68; HOFFMANN, ‘Panzer des Inaros’, 373, n. 2299; OSING, Nominalbildung II, 602–3, n. 568. 40 Edfou VII, 259, 1. 41 E.g. PGM VI 1–47+II 1–64, IV 1275–322 and VII 528–39 (brain of a black ram as offering in all three cases); PGM XXXVI 312–20 (umbilical cord from a firstborn ram; the practitioner identifies himself with Horus); maybe also P. Mag. LL, 14, 1–34 (sacrifice/piece of meat of a black ram?), cf. J. H. JOHNSON, in BETZ (ed.), GMPT, 219, n. 323. 42 The black colour is also mentioned in a Pyramid Text and a Book of the Dead spell: ‘(...) because you are the black ram (sr), the son of the black/light-coloured sheep (sr.t)’, PT 246 (§ 252b)/BoD Ch. 177. Cf. also P. Mag. LL, 11, 8: |nk sr|w s# sr|w ‘I am (the) ram, son of (the) ram’. Explanation: In quotations of original text from the magical papyri the following typographic codes are used throughout this paper in order to reflect the complex script system in these sources: Bold type: reflects a rubric in the original manuscript. Italic type: reflects the use of Hieratic script in an original manuscript that is generally written in Demotic (for which non-italic transliteration is used). SMALL CAPS: reflect foreign words (voces magicae) rendered in Greek or Old Coptic script in the original manuscript. 37
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Osiris, the father of Harpokrates, can be called b# km ‘black ram’.43 In the invocations of Demotic lamp divinations reference is made to the ram-shape as well, e.g. in a compulsion spell of P. Mag. LL, 6, 1–8, 11: Dd mdw r.|nk p# Hr n sr|w• Hwnw rn=|• Recitation: ‘I am the Ram’s face, Youth is my name.’ (6, 22)
In the case study spell of PGM IV the ram is, apart from the quoted passage about the preparation of the wick, only mentioned in the form of a vox magica SRŌ (from Egyptian sr|w) in l. 1011. After the usual prescriptions for personal purity (here: three days in advance),44 the instruction to rub the wick with ram-fat is repeated at the end of the paragraph with the preparations, attesting to at least some redundancy in the otherwise carefully edited and structured spell. That it is in general very well thought-out is shown by the directive to ‘stand in the previously mentioned fashion, facing the sunrise’, when beginning the ritual (ll. 1095–7), a coherent cross-reference to the first paragraph of the spell describing the initial prayer to the sun-god and the attire and way of standing when addressing him. I will come to that section now. 3.5. Spells to the sun-god in the morning The first ritual action is a prayer towards the rising sun in order to gain the sun-god’s support for a successful divination (ll. 930–55). As it aims at some kind of alliance between deity and magician, it is called σύστασις ‘encounter/communion (with god)’ in the Greek text. The Demotic parallels of P. Mag. LL show that a prayer to the sungod in the morning was actually an integral part of the Egyptian style lamp divinations. In the long and chronologically older Egyptian spell of P. Mag. LL, 6, 1–8, 11 this recitation is quoted by title only, parts of which are written in Hieratic: mtw=k oS n# sx.w n dw# Ro tp tw¥ m Xo=f• And you recite the ‘Spells of praising Re at dawn when he rises’ (6, 3)
This points to a specific kind of text or text genre which had to be well known by the original Egyptian practitioner, since the actual words of the invocation itself are not given here.45 The greeting of the sun-god in the morning in the form of a hymn or litany had a long tradition in Egyptian religion,46 and the quoted title is actually very similar to titles of ritual books that are known from Egyptian sources at least from the superscript
: reflects supralinear glosses. •: reflects a verse point in the original manuscript. 43 See LGG II, 703c. 44 For the ritual demands for purity of the priests see e.g. QUACK, Concepts of Purity; GEE, Requirements; DERCHAIN-URTEL, Priester im Tempel, 200–202; DIELEMAN, Rituele reinheid. On ritual purity in the specific context of divine visions see also QUACK, Königsweihe; QUACK, Postulated and Real Efficacy, 50–51. 45 Cf. DIELEMAN, Priests, 54–5. 46 See ASSMANN, Hymnen und Gebete, 46–63 and 95–252; ASSMANN, Liturgische Lieder, 165– 227 and 300–332; ASSMANN, Sonnenhymnen, passim; cf. also QUACK, Postulated and Real Efficacy, 50.
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New Kingdom onwards, although they use the expression wbn=f instead of Xo=f (dw# Ro m wbn=f ‘praising Re when he rises’ etc.) and the older rA.w instead of sx.w (‘spells’).47 In fact, a large number of attestations for the praise of the sun-god in the morning originates from Thebes,48 just like the large magical handbooks themselves. The remaining Demotic examples that contain this instruction – all of them located within the second cluster of divination spells in the manuscript P. Mag. LL – fill in some already adapted and changed material here: a recitation is actually quoted and consists of little more than voces magicae, plus in two cases a short prayer to let everything succeed: –
– –
The invocation which you should recite before Pre early in the morning (p# oS nt|-|.|r+=k oS r-Hr p# Ro n Xrp) before you have recited to the youth, in order that that which you will do will come about: ‘Oh great god, (voces magicae)’ (7x).49 You should recite this spell before Pre (r.|r+=k oS p#|.y oS r-Hr p# Ro) 3x or 7x: ‘(Voces magicae), let everything that I shall undertake here today, let it happen!’50 Another invocation which you recite opposite Pre at dawn (k¥ oS |w Xr-|r+=k oS=f wb¥ p# Ro n dw#¥) 3x or 7x: ‘(Voces magicae), may everything which I shall do today come about!’51
These similar instructions from the Demotic lychnomancy spells demonstrate again that the purpose of this morning prayer to Re was to gain his support and thereby guarantee the success of the following procedure. The sequence of voces magicae is the same in all three cases, with only spelling variations. In fact it is identical with voces magicae added at a later stage of editing to the otherwise traditionally Egyptian spells addressed to the lamp in the chronologically older spell P. Mag. LL, 6, 1–8, 11.52 Thus, it seems to me that the editor of the cluster-II-group (or rather its master copy) did not know what to make of the scarce information of the original ‘Spells of praising Re at dawn when he rises’, or was not content with it, and therefore wanted to fill in the full text of an actual prayer, which he just copied from a prayer to the lamp itself. In our Greek lamp divination spell PGM IV 930–1114 the prayer to the sun-god has been adapted and was called Systasis, to be recited first toward the sunrise and a second time to the lamp itself. The full text of a prayer is given, and it is not an Egyptian sun-litany, but a short Greek hexametrical hymn adapting a line of Homer’s Odyssey53 but reflecting Egyptian images and concepts of the young sun-god, and mixed with a
47
See SCHOTT, Bücher und Bibliotheken, nos. 1753–9 and 1150–72; cf. DIELEMAN, Priests, 55. Cf. ASSMANN, Liturgische Lieder, 182. This corpus of sun-hymns was extensively absorbed in the funerary culture of the Saite Period (cf. ASSMANN, Sonnenhymnen, XXXIV–XXXV), which again has to be seen as an important anthology from which later editors and users of religious texts, and in the end the magical papyri of the Roman Period, could pick and reformulate. 49 P. Mag. LL, 16, 15–16. 50 P. Mag. LL, 16, 19–22. 51 P. Mag. LL, 17, 23–6. 52 P. Mag. LL, 7, 6–7. 53 Od. 4.458: Menelaos tries to obtain an oracle from Proteus; Proteus assumes different forms in order to escape. See on this hymn in detail the commentary by BORTOLANI, Magical Hymns, hymn no. 5. Cf. also the contribution by R. PHILLIPS in this volume. 48
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few voces magicae. The concluding lines of the hymn as well as the prose appeal in the end clearly ask for the solar creator god’s support again: Be propitious to me, first father, and may you yourself grant me strength! Stay allied, lord, and listen to me (...)!
The instruction that the same prayer has to be recited again to the lamp agrees well with the mentioned fact that in the cluster-II-lychnomancies of P. Mag. LL the contents of the prayer to the sun has been copied from the invocation to the lamp of the extensive spell of cluster I (that is, probably its predecessor). This underlines the imagined direct connection between sunlight and lamplight, as it is also explained by the Roman author and philosopher Apuleius: There is nothing strange; that small flame made by human hands, however, the memory of that greater and heavenly fire, as if of its parent, can in measure both know by divine foreknowledge and announce to us what will be produced in the firmament above. (Apul. Met. 2.12)
Also, the long Demotic spell prescribes to ‘bring the lamp opposite the sun, while it (the lamp) is burning’ after the morning prayer, whereas in the instructions of PGM IV it is less clearly said in the instructions ‘light the lamp and stand in the previously mentioned fashion, facing the sunrise, whenever you perform the rite’. The orientation of the rite towards sunrise is furthermore paralleled by the setting of the room in some of the other lychnomancy spells, where a channel of communication with the rising sun has to be ‘opened’ in one way or another, so it can intrude into the light of the lamp: – in P. Mag. LL, 6, 1–8, 11 a niche has to be dug in the eastern wall – in PGM VII 540–78 the whole ritual is to be conducted in the eastern part of a house – in P. Mag. LL, 27, 13–36 the lamp is hung on the eastern wall – P. Mag. LL, 16, 18–30 as well as P. Mag. LL, 25, 1–22 specify a room with a door that opens to the east.54 Additionally, one dream oracle that also makes use of a lamp, gives the direction to point the lamp toward the east.55 The creation of a communication channel between sunlight and lamp could be compared to a passage in the Egyptian Book of the Dead spell 137 A, a spell to light the torches: these are to be lighted ‘in the presence of the beauty of Re’ (Xft nfr.w Ro), which in this context probably means the sunset.56 3.6. The ‘light-bringing charm’ (φωταγωγία) After the recitation of the described prayer to the rising sun and to the lamp, another invocation is addressed to the lamp, called ‘light-bringing charm’ in its heading (PGM IV 955–74). It corresponds closely with a central logos of some of the Demotic lych54 The last spell additionally gives the alternative option of a room with an opening to the south, i.e. the midday sun, which corresponds with the prescription of an opening to the south (without alternative) in P. Mag. LL, 5, 1–33. 55 PGM IV 3172–208 (3194). 56 See the interpretation by LUFT, Anzünden der Fackel, 92–3 and 194–5, with n. 54.
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nomancy recipes which is entitled ‘The spells for the youth’ (n# sx.w n p# olw) in one of them, as it is to be recited into the ears of a boy medium in most of these practices.57 The recitation of the case study spell addresses a powerful god who is described as a begetter of light etc. and named with the names of the Egyptian creator god Ptah, 58 as well as the Jewish Iaō and the Jewish-sounding angel name BOUĒL. The latter is also known from revelatory conjurations in the Late Antique Jewish magical book Sefer ha-Razim, where he actually appears in a pillar of fire, corresponding to the association with light in the Graeco-Egyptian magical spells.59 He is also addressed as lightbringer60 in the Demotic lamp divination spells of P. Mag. LL cluster I and II,61 where his name appears in the forms b-o#-¥lⲃⲟⲏⲗ or bw¥lⲃⲟⲩⲏⲗ and is often reduplicated. Obviously, BOĒL/BOUĒL was mainly understood as a patron angel/deity of lychnomancy in the Egyptian handbooks,62 but he is invoked in two bowl divination spells as well.63 Furthermore, the form IAĒL (Iaō+ēl) (PGM IV 961) is paralleled in the BOĒLlogos of the Demotic lychnomancies as well. Although Ptah, the ancient creator god of Memphis, is not directly associated with BOĒL in the Demotic spells, he appears as PTHAKH ELOE – that is, also combined with a Hebrew title (‘god’) – in the long recitation of voces magicae preceding the BOĒL-logos in P. Mag. LL, 16, 1–17.64 What is also interesting is the connection of other Memphite deities in the parallel logoi, namely TAT, the deified Djed-pillar of Memphis that was associated with Ptah, Sokar and Osiris.65 Additionally, the invocation of the other Greek-language but Egyptian-type lamp divination, PGM VII 540–78, though it follows another tradition and not the 66 BOĒL-logos, mentions not only TAT, but also APH, that is the Memphite Apis-bull. In the oldest attested lamp divination spell on the Demotic Florence papyrus, either the 57
An exception is P. Mag. LL, 5, 1–33, according to which the magician operates alone and can also perform it as a dream oracle. 58 Within the voces magicae PEIPTA PHŌS ZA und PAI PHTHENTA PHŌSZA, as well as PHTHA PHTHA PHTHAĒL PHTHA. See for these variations with the name of Ptah QUACK, Griechische und andere Dämonen, 455–6; QUACK, Zauber ohne Grenzen, 187–9. 59 Sepher ha-Razim, 1, 232; edition REBIGER/SCHÄFER, Sefer ha-Razim. See GEE, Lamp Divination, 209; FAUTH, Helios Megistos, 110; LESSES, Ritual Practices, 230–54, 290–91 and 313: BOĒL is the overseer of the seventh encampment of angels in the first firmament, and he appears in a pillar of fire to interpret dreams etc. There is even a dismissal of BOĒL in the Sefer ha-Razim, containing an invocation, parts of which are rendered in Greek language (set in italics in the following quotation) transcribed into Hebrew script: ‘If you wish to release him, hurl water three times to heaven from the sea or from the river on which you stand, and say: “Invisible lord Boēl, sufficient to our need, the perfect shield bearer, I free you, I free you, subside and return to your (heavenly) course”’, see LESSES, Ritual Practices, 316. 60 p# nt| D+.t wyn m-sS sp 2 ‘he who gives very much light’. 61 P. Mag. LL, 5, 1–33; 6, 1–8, 11; 16, 1–17; 17, 1–26; 17, 26–18, 6. 62 Cf. GEE, Lamp Divination, 209; FAUTH, Helios Megistos, 110; QUACK, Griechische und andere Dämonen, 458. 63 P. Mag. LL, 1, 1–3, 35; and P. Mag. LL vs., 26, 1–27, 8. 64 16, 2. There is a number of other instances in which Ptah is connected with Yahweh and other Jewish titles and elements, see QUACK, Zauber ohne Grenzen, 188–92. 65 For the identification of TAT see QUACK, Griechische und andere Dämonen, 498; QUACK, Zu einer angeblich apokalyptischen Passage, 244, n. 6; QUACK, Zauber ohne Grenzen, 186. 66 Cf. QUACK, Zauber ohne Grenzen, 186.
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magician or the boy medium identifies himself as ‘the son of Sakhmet’,67 whereas the long and chronologically also relatively old spell of P. Mag. LL, 6, 1–8, 11 designates Sakhmet as ‘mother’ of the divining lamp itself.68 Sakhmet, again, was venerated as consort of Ptah in Memphis. Obviously, some kind of Memphite background has been processed somewhere in the course of the redaction history of the Egyptian lamp divinations and especially its central recitations. Even the connection of Memphite deities, especially Ptah, with Jewish religious elements could have had roots in Memphis, as the presence of Jews is attested there at least from the sixth century BCE onwards, and in letters from Aramaeans and Jews we can see that they sometimes also paid hommage to Ptah and other Egyptian deities.69 Some other names and epithets used in the ‘lightbringing charm’ of the spell under discussion also find their counterparts in other lychnomancy recipes. ‘The living god’, τὸν θεὸν τὸν ζῶντα, seems to be an equivalent to the Demotic p# nTr nt| onX (nt|-|w bw|r+=f mwt) ‘the god who lives (and never dies)’ that appears within the BOĒL-logos of four spells of P. Mag. LL.70 Within the series of magical names beginning with BOUĒL PHTHA PHTHA PHTHAĒL PHTHA is contained the vox magica ABAI, which is in all likelihood derived from Hebrew ‘my father’.71 It can probably be connected with a string of voces magicae in the BOĒL-logos of the Demotic lychnomancies of P. Mag. LL:72 p¥t¥ry
ⲡⲉⲧⲉⲣⲓ
• p¥t¥ry
ⲡⲉⲧⲉⲣⲓ
• pot¥r
ⲡⲁⲧⲉⲣ
• ¥nph¥
ⲉⲛⲫⲉ
• ¥nph¥
ⲉⲛⲫⲉ
This can be interpreted as a mixture of Egyptian and Greek, meaning: My father, my father, father, in heaven, in heaven.73
Finally, the light-bringing god is also called BAINKHŌŌŌKH, from Egyptian b# n kk(.w) ‘Ba-soul of the primeval god of darkness’. This relatively common vox magica74 appears again within the ‘god-bringing spell’, in l. 1017, in the magician’s selfidentification with this deity, and in l. 1061 in the dismissal. The same name is uttered at the end of the first recitation of the Greek lamp divination of PGM VII 540–78.75
67
PSI Inv. D 90, l. 6. It is paralleled by the identification of the magician as ‘son of Sakhmet’ in P. Mag. LL, 11, 12 (Charitesion). 68 P. Mag. LL, 6, 35. 69 See VITTMANN, Ägypten und die Fremden, 88–90; for the Jews of Elephantine: 100. 70 P. Mag. LL, 17, 1–26 (l. 2) and 17, 26–18, 6 (17, 28); without the second part: P. Mag. LL, 16, 1–17 (l. 11); vs., 31, 1–7 (l. 3) (which is actually an addition to P. Mag. LL, 5, 1–33). 71 See QUACK, Zauber ohne Grenzen, 189. 72 P. Mag. LL 5, 17; 7, 13; 17, 6; and 17, 31. 73 Analysis by R.K. RITNER, in BETZ (ed.), GMPT, 203, n. 88; cf. also GEE, Lamp Divination, 209–10; QUACK, Griechische und andere Dämonen, 468. This interpretation is partly supported by the following and clearly readable Demotic epithet p# nTr nt| n t# ry.t Hr|.t n t# p.t ‘the god who is in the upper part of heaven’. Cf. also SM 29.13–14 (= PGM LXXXIII): ‘our father who art in heaven’, part of a quotation from Matthew 6:9–11, written in normal Greek among other quotations of Biblical verses. 74 It also appears in other magical papyri and on curse tablets, see BETZ (ed.), GMPT, 333 (Glossary). 75 PGM VII 559.
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This epiclesis is already known from the Egyptian Book of the Heavenly Cow, where the sun-god Re speaks about the Bas of the gods and says: b# pw n kk.w grH Night is the Ba-soul of the primeval god of darkness (Heavenly Cow, 180).76
The Greek spelling with three ω used in the magical texts corresponds to the numerical value 3663,77 which is exactly the number given for the pebble that the magician has to clasp to his breast according to the instructions at the beginning of our spell, and is thereby able to wield power over this deity. However, another variation or rather extension of this magical name is used in three of the Demotic lychnomancies: here, the wick of the lamp is to be inscribed with a short series of magical signs similar to Egyptian hieroglyphs and the vox magica BAKHYKHSIKHYKH, rendering the Egyptian epithet ‘Soul of the primeval god of darkness, son of the primeval god of darkness’ (b# kk.w s# kk.w) in Greek letters. Both variations probably attest to a common tradition of addressing the Ba of the primeval god of darkness during lamp divination. Actually, already in the earlier, fragmentary Demotic spell from Tebtynis, it seems that ‘souls of darkness’ (plural) are requested to be sent, and the expression is written unetymologically even here (n#.w b Q#Qh).78 Another interesting formula of the ‘lightbringing charm’ is the passage: Let there be light, breadth, depth, length, height, brightness...!
These same characteristics are repeated shortly afterwards in the ‘light-retaining spell’: I conjure you, holy light, holy brightness, breadth, depth, length, height, brightness...! (ll. 978–9),
and they furthermore recur in a very short divination spell called θεομαντεῖον ‘Divine revelation’ (PGM XII 153–60), perhaps a direct vision, where again the god Ptah is named several times within the voces magicae. Also, in a sunlight divination with boy medium contained in P. Mag. LL the magician utters a similar demand: Open to me the sky in its breadth and height! Bring me the light which is pure!79
The emergence of light and spatial dimensions evoked in the formulas recalls a primeval context of creation 80 that has already been alluded to by the ritual preparations discussed above as well as by the invocation of the primeval god of darkness, thus creating a background for the appearance of the first light. We could compare the Egyptian Coffin Texts spell CT 80, where the god Shu talks about himself: It is I who make the sky light after darkness, (...) The length of this sky is for my strides, and the width of this earth is for my fundaments.81 76
See HORNUNG, Himmelskuh; GUILHOU, La vieillesse, 98–104. Cf. BONNER, Numerical Value, 8. 78 PSI Inv. D 90, l. 5; edition in preparation by J.F. QUACK. 79 P. Mag. LL, 29, 1–20 (ll. 29, 6–7). 80 Cf. the interpretation by R.K. RITNER, in BETZ (ed.), GMPT, 159, n. 53. 81 See ALLEN, Genesis in Egypt, 22–4; BICKEL, Hymne à la vie; ZANDEE, Sargtexte, Spruch 80; KERN, Licht- und Lebensgottmotiv, 97–8. 77
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The creation of space takes center stage in the Heliopolitan concept of primordial creation and is generated by the separation of Sky (goddess Nut) and Earth (god Geb).82 The previous non-existence of space is expressed in the same Coffin Text spell by the words: I could find no place on which to stand or sit.
Closely related to the separation of Sky and Earth and the space emerging thereby is the first sunrise, i.e. the appearance of light and brightness. In a hymn in the Berlin papyrus 3049 (Text B2), Re is: he who gave birth to the sky and made the earth, who created water and mountains and let all that exists emerge. You have illuminated the world in the darkness, when you have risen from the Primeval Ocean. (8, 2–3)83
Also in Genesis 1, sky and earth, and subsequently light, are created first, so the order is practically the same, but this is not explicitly explained as length and breadth/width, that is creation of dimensions or space. The quality as creator of dimensions actually suits the Egyptian god Ptah quite well, who is also known as a builder and craftsman deity and is associated with angles and buildings.84 According to a hymn to Ptah in P. Berlin P. 3048, he is: The one who elevated Nut (thus created height) and extended Geb (thus created breadth/length), he, who began everything on the surface of the earth.85
In the context of the ‘lightbringing spell’ of the divination spell under discussion and its other elements, what is envisaged here is a transcendence from normal lamplight to supernatural divine light or the first light of creation that sets the stage for the final epiphany of a deity. 3.7. The ‘signs of the lamp’ I jump now to the last paragraph of the spell as it is laid out in the manual (PGM IV 1103–14), because it is in my opinion directly linked to what is said in the ‘lightbringing charm’. Under the subheading ‘signs of the lamp’ (σημεῖα τοῦ λύχνου),86 this section does not form part of the instructions and recitations of the ritual but gives a detailed description of what exactly is to be seen during the lamp divination. Accord82
Cf. for that and the following e.g. ALLEN, Genesis in Egypt, 24–5; ASSMANN, Rezeption und Auslegung, esp. 129–31: ‘Luft und Feuer – d.h. die Entstehung lichterfüllter Ausdehnung – bilden das erste kosmogonische Stadium. (...) Der kosmogonische Augenblick ist nichts anderes als der erste Sonnenaufgang (...) Auf die Entstehung des Lichts (...) folgt die Entstehung des kosmischen Raumes (...)’. 83 Cf. KNIGGE, Das Lob der Schöpfung, 148. 84 Cf. BERLANDINI, Ptah-demiurge, 15–20; for Ptah as a definer of space see also SANDMAN HOLMBERG, Ptah, 32–3; GÖRG, Nilgans, 65–6. 85 Cf. SANDMAN HOLMBERG, Ptah, 32–3. 86 See for this section also HOPFNER, Offenbarungszauber II, § 216; GORDON, Reporting the Marvellous, 90.
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ingly, when the practitioner opens his eyes for the first time after the ‘light-bringing spell’, he sees the lamp light broaden in the form of a vault. After another sequence of closing the eyes, reciting and opening them again, the lamp itself is out of sight, but instead the operator beholds everything wide open and filled with a great brightness. Thus the claim of the discussed formula to create space and brightness is fulfilled. The appearance of the god is also quite definite and in accord with the typical Egyptian iconography of the juvenile sun-god (Horus Harpokrates) in the morning, which has been, however, developed further by the addition of elements from Helios’ iconography:87 he is ‘seated on a lotus flower, decorated with rays, the right hand raised in greeting, the left [holding] a whip, being carried in the hands by two angels with 12 rays surrounding them’. At least very similar images can actually be found on numerous magical gems, 88 some of them even bearing the vox magica BAINKHŌŌŌKH as well.89 Furthermore the image of the child sitting on a lotus is also invoked as a form of the sun-god in the long prose part of the invocation in the Apollonian lamp divination of PGM II 64–183, attesting to the composite concept of a solar deity, where parts of Egyptian litanies/hymns have been added after the hymnic sections to Apollo, in order to complete the multifaceted picture of the solar god.90 In the context of our spell it fits well into the whole sphere of beginning and creation, as the childgod on the lotus is not only a symbol of sunrise, but also of the first sunrise, when the solar deity emerged from the primeval ocean Nun. The Demotic lychnomancy spells also give away some information on the process of the deity’s epiphany, but with much less details. According to some of them, the god or his ‘shadow’ is seen in the environment of the lamp (n p# Qd¥ n p# xbs) when the practitioner or medium looks at it after opening his eyes,91 but no description of the deity’s exact iconography is given there. One invocation of P. Mag. LL, 17, 1–26 hints at similar ideas about the light-vision as the PGM IV spell: in the Demotic spell, the
87 See HOPFNER, Offenbarungszauber I, § 517; cf., in general, e.g. MORENZ/SCHUBERT, Gott auf der Blume; RYHINER, L’offrande du lotus; WAITKUS, Geburt des Harsomtus; MALAISE, Découverte d’Harpocrate, 32–3, 54, 89–90, 93. 88 See EL-KACHAB, Some Gem-Amulets, esp. 133–4; BAKOWSKA, Rappresentazione, esp. 302–5; MICHEL, Bilder und Zauberformeln, Pl. 107; MICHEL, Gemmen im Britischen Museum, 68–89, nos. 104–35, especially nos. 105, 106, 118, 122, for greatest similarity to the PGM description. Cf. also the instruction to engrave a gem in PGM LXI 31–2 and the epithets ‘who sits upon the lotus’ in PGM II 101 and 107; XII 87, and ‘the lotus emerged from the abyss’ in PGM IV 1684. However, there does not seem to be a parallel to the two angels surrounded by 12 rays carrying him in their hands. Sometimes, though, the usual two lotusbuds under the central flower with the god are replaced by two stars, e.g. EL-KACHAB, Some Gem-Amulets, 144, no. 5, Pl. 36, which could have been understood as angels in the late antique conception. 89 Cf. BAKOWSKA, Rappresentazione, 305. Some examples in MICHEL, Bilder und Zauberformeln, 269–75. 90 ‘Who sits upon the lotus’ in PGM II 101, and ‘you have upon the northern parts the figure of an infant child seated upon a lotus’ in l. 107. See for this text the contribution by L.M. BORTOLANI in this volume. 91 P. Mag. LL, 5, 7; 6, 6–7; and 27, 17.
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light is requested to ‘grow’, ‘rise up’ and ‘be high’, 92 which seems to correspond closely with the description of the light broadening to a vault. Similarly, in the conjuration of BOĒL in the Sefer ha-Razim, the text anticipates that you will see that a pillar of fire will appear to you with a cloud on it like the image of a man. Question him and he will tell you whatever you ask.93
Interestingly, in other Graeco-Egyptian divination rituals, for instance lecanomancy, a specific appearance of the sun-god is also presupposed in the text of some spells, but a different moment of the mythical and cosmic cycle is chosen: two parallel bowl divination spells in P. Mag. LL explicitly aim at ‘seeing the barque of Pre’ during its course through Heaven and Underworld.94 This specific goal (and parts of the invocations of these spells) is probably dependant on Egyptian rituals for taking part in the sun-god’s barque journey as attested in some Book of the Dead-spells where also a bowl is used.95 The Underworldly, nightly part of the journey might furthermore be especially useful for lecanomancy insofar as in contrast to lamp divinations, most of these rituals are addressed to deities of the Underworld like Anubis and Osiris, or even aim at a prophecy by a spirit of a dead person.96 3.8. The ‘god-bringing spell’ (θεαγωγὸς λόγος) The main deity of the spell who is invoked in the longest paragraph, the so-called ‘god-bringing spell’ (PGM IV 985–1035), and welcomed in the salutation (1047–52), suits the described iconography (1103–14) perfectly, as he is called by the name ‘Horus Harpokrates’ followed by a fixed sequence of voces magicae of Egyptian and Hebrew origin in each instance. He is then first praised with epithets typical for the Egyptian sun-god and referring to his mythology, e.g. his journey in the solar barque and the fight with the snake Apophis on the way, or the greeting of the sun-god by baboons. Horus Harpokrates is also called ‘god of gods’ (in Greek θεέ θεῶν) in several instances.97 The same epithet recurs, this time for Apollo, in the Greek dream oracle of PGM VI 1–47+II 1–64 (where also a lamp is used), 98 and it is employed in many other Greek language spells for several deities of superior and mostly solar character as well.99 Apart from the magical texts, this form of addressing the deity is not conven92
P. Mag. LL, 17, 13–14. o#w p# wyn, pr+ p# wyn, Ts p# wyn, Xy p# wyn. This is paralleled by a very similar conjuration of the light in the bowl divinations P. Mag. LL, 1, 1–3, 35 (ll. 2, 2–3) and 18, 7– 33 (ll. 18, 25–6). 93 Sefer ha-Razim, 1, 232; translation after LESSES, Ritual Practices, 313. 94 P. Mag. LL, 10, 22–35; P. Mag. LL, 27, 1–12. See for these recipes DIELEMAN, Priests, 58–61. 95 Especially BoD spells 130–36, see (for 133–4) RITNER, Mechanics, 64, n. 289; RITNER, Egyptian Magical Practice, 3346–7; RAVEN/DEMARÉE, Ceramic Dishes, esp. 80. 96 This aspect of lecanomancy further strengthens its connection to the BoD spells mentioned before; on the close links between lecanomancy and necromancy/evocation of spirits of the dead see OGDEN, Necromancy, 191–201. 97 Ll. 992, 999 and 1048. 98 For this spell see the contribution by L.M. BORTOLANI in this volume. 99 PGM III 551 (now PGM III.1) (Helios); PGM IV 641 (Helios); PGM XIII 942 (universal solar deity); PGM IV 180 and 218 (Typhon); P. Mag. LL, 23, 10 = PGM XIVc 16 (Typhon); PGM IV
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tional in Greek,100 but the Egyptian equivalent (p#) nTr (n#) nTr.w (‘god of gods’) is quite frequently attested from the epoch of the New Kingdom (second half of second millennium BCE) onwards, especially for solar and creator gods.101 In most cases, the cotext of this epithet in the Greek language spells has a strong Egyptian background as well. Furthermore, we can also find the Egyptian version (p#) nTr (n#) nTr.w in the shape of a vox magica written in Greek as PNOUTE NENTĒR (TĒROU = Egyptian Dr=w), PNOUTE NINTHĒR (TĒROU) or PHNOUTHI NINTHĒR in at least four more Greek spells, all of them attributed to the sun-god again.102 Here, we can observe different modes or stages of transfer of such a formula from one language into the other: in some cases, it has been translated, in others it has been absorbed as a magical word in its original form, but probably without understanding of its meaning by the final user. After the obviously Egyptian part of the recitation in question, however, other epicleses are added that seem to go back to another tradition. They describe an almighty god seated high in heaven, ruler of the seven celestial spheres and seven vowels, and superior to all the other deities. Similar characterisations of the highest deity are well known from other, mainly Greek language magical rituals. 103 At least some of the contents, though not the exact wording, have parallels in the epithets of the BOĒL-logos and other invocations of the Demotic lychnomancies. However, a direct parallel to one passage can be found in a Demotic bowl divination spell, also of P. Mag. LL, where the magician identifies himself as: ‘he whose strength is in the flame, he of that golden wreath which is on his head’ (p# nt|-|w t#y=f gm xn t# st.t, p#¥ p#y Qlm n nb nt| n D#D#=f).104 Table 2: Demotic parallels to the epithets in the ‘god-bringing spell’ PGM IV 930–1114 you who are seated on top of the world
you who have in fire your power and your strength
Demotic parallels (lamp divination spells) the god who is in the upper part of heaven (P. Mag. LL, 7, 13; 5, 17; 17, 6; 17, 31); god who is above the whole earth (P. Mag. LL, 7, 20) the companion of the flame; who is in the midst of the flame etc.; in whose hand are the greatness and the strength of the god (P. Mag. LL, 7, 8–10; 5, 12–
Demotic bowl divination
‘he whose strength is in
1146–7, 1195 and 1200 (Aion); PGM V 466–7 (Aion); PGM I 164 (Aion); PGM XXIIb 20 and 21 (‘God of the Hebrews’). 100 BORTOLANI, Magical Hymns, 106; also RITNER, Egyptian Magical Practice, 3363, for the unusual Greek vocative form θεὲ often used throughout the magical papyri as a Greek equivalent to Egyptian ‘O god’ ((|) p# nTr). 101 LGG IV, 431a–432b. In the Demotic magical texts, however, it appears only in one instance within the combination ‘god of gods of darkness’ in the recitation of a bowl divination (P. Mag. LL, 28, 11–15). 102 PGM III 144 (now PGM III.1) πνουτε νεντηρ; PGM V 8; PGM IV 1643; PGM XXXVIII 15. 103 E.g. ‘the one who is before fire and snow’: cf. PGM V 1–53 (‘Oracle of Sarapis’), ll. 17–18: ‘who appeared before fire and snow, BAINKHŌŌŌKH’. 104 P. Mag. LL, 18, 7–33 (ll. 13–14).
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you who have on your head a golden crown and in your hand a Memnonian staff with which you send out the gods
Svenja Nagel 13; 17, 1–3; 17, 27–8) in whose hand is the beautiful staff (P. Mag. LL, 7, 13–14; 5, 18; 17, 6; 17, 31)
the flame, he of that golden wreath which is on his head’ (P. Mag. LL, 18, 13–14)
3.9. Phylactery A close relation to the Egyptian identity of the invoked deity can also be observed in the instructions for the ‘phylactery for the rite’105 (PGM IV 1071–84) that follow right after all the recitations that are to be used during the ritual. Constructed according to the principle of sympathy, this amulet is made from ‘a linen cloth taken from a marble statue of Harpokrates in any temple whatever’. Furthermore, the strip of linen is to be inscribed with a magical formula and a prayer, including the self-identification of the practitioner with Horus, son of Isis and Osiris. The function of this amulet is explicitly stated in the instruction and in the words of the prayer written on it: ‘protection of your whole body’, and ‘keep me healthy, unharmed, not plagued by ghosts and without terror during my lifetime’. This last plea is nearly identical with the one uttered as part of the dismissal ritual for the god (ll. 1063–4). Phylacteries of various materials and shapes are prescribed in quite a number of divination spells to be worn during the ritual in order to protect the operator from the strong forces he voluntarily encountered and from any possible side effects or collateral damage that this contact with divine power might provoke. The temporal extension to the complete lifetime in the example at hand suggests even the possibility or fear of long-lasting damages after the ritual itself was concluded. By dressing himself with substances that belong or are dear to the addressed god the operator takes his side, so the god would not regard him as unworthy or as an enemy.106 Amulets made of cloth that was previously worn by the gods themselves – or more precisely their substitutes, the statues in sacral environments, as is the case in the PGM IV example – must have been considered especially loaded with the divine essence or power, and they were also employed in other ways during divination rituals to facilitate the contact with the gods, e.g. as wick for the lamp in lychnomancies.107 In fact, the re-use of textiles from temple cult had a certain tradition in Egypt, for instance for mummy bandages or other funerary material of high-ranking persons.108 But such sacred material could not have been too easy to come by for ordinary people, whereas an Egyptian priest could have provided it with less difficulty, which again points to the assumed origin of these magical manuals in the Egyptian priesthood.109 105
For the strong bonds between phylactery and addressed deity in the magical rituals cf. the contribution by J.F. QUACK in this volume (second case study). 106 Most phylacteries in the magical papyri seem to be fashioned according to principles of sympathy, but some make use of the opposite strategy instead, namely an aggressive, menacing one and thus work by antipathy, for instance the ‘Oracle of Kronos’ discussed by J.F. QUACK. 107 P. Mag. LL, 25, 1–22: wick made from cloth from a temple. 108 See KOCKELMANN, Mumienbinden II, 39–40; QUACK, Grab am Tempeldromos, 123–4. 109 On the question of origins in a comprehensive scope DIELEMAN, Priests.
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In spite of the Egyptian concepts that can often be traced behind the specific manufacture of these phylacteries, it is interesting to observe that they are typically prescribed in Greek divination spells only.110 In contrast, the Demotic spells are much less instructive as far as phylacteries are concerned. There does not seem to appear a Demotic equivalent to the Greek phylakterion in this sense, or at least it is not explicitly mentioned as a subheading within the recipes for divination. However, there are some isolated cases, in which amulets are used which are similar in format to the Greek phylacteries. But less so in purpose: in a Demotic bowl divination spell (P. Mag. LL, 1, 1–3, 35) the boy medium is provided with an amulet made of 16 threads of linen in four different colours, stained with blood of a hoopoe and bound to a drowned scarab as a manifestation of the sun-god or of Osiris. The whole thing is bound around the boy’s body. So far, so good, and parallel to the Greek examples. But the text states that it enchants the bowl quickly. So its function is not protection as in most of the Greek recipes, but an enhancement of the core ritual. In another Demotic recipe, again for bowl divination, 111 an amulet made of plants in sympathy with the sun-god is also worn around the body, but its exact function is not revealed by the text. Still, in other cases, prayers for the protection of the practitioner or for the safety and health of a boy medium are uttered and seem to fulfil the same function as a material phylactery, e.g. in one of the Demotic lamp divinations, P. Mag. LL, 17, 1–26: (...) watch over this youth! Do not let him be frightened, terrified or afraid, and make him return to his original path!112 (ll. 17–20)
However, among the lychnomancy spells only the Apollonian ritual of PGM I 262– 347 and our example PGM IV 930–1114 explicitly prescribe phylacteries,113 although perhaps the phylactery following PGM VII 540–78 is loosely connected with this spell as well (PGM VII 579–90).114 3.10. Other ‘Greek characteristics’ Apart from the phylactery, there are two more proper features of the ‘Greek’ or ‘Apollonian’ type of lamp divination that are shared by the spell PGM IV 930–1114 and contribute to the idea that though the latter generally belongs to the ‘Egyptian’ group, it shows some distinct influences from the ‘Greek’ organisation of such magical spells. One of these characteristics concerns the preparations and attire of the magician, the cultural origins of which lie mainly in the Egyptian priesthood. Still, the explicit directives for the practitioner to ‘be dressed in the garb of a prophet’ etc. and to refrain 110
Greek divination spells with prescribed phylactery (or: phylactery directly following a divination spell): PGM I 262–347; VI 1–47+II 1–64; II 64–183; III 410–23 (now PGM III.2); IV 86–7, 154–285, 475–829, 850–929, 1331–89, 2005–144, 2441–621, 2622–707, 3086–124; VII 222–49 (with parallels VIII 64–110 and SM 90), 478–90, 579–90, 846–61; XIII 734–1077. 111 P. Mag. LL, 10, 22–35 with parallel P. Mag. LL, 27, 1–12. 112 HrH r p#y olw mtw=k tm D+.t |r+=f ht|#.t HnwH# Skll.t mtw=k D+.t sT#.ß=f r p#y=f myß n Xrp. 113 PGM I 262–76: a seven-leafed sprig, inscribed with seven magical characters, and an ebony staff are to be held in the hands. 114 An amulet with the drawing of an ouroboros encircling magical names, characters and a spell.
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from unclean things, fish and sexual intercourse,115 are part of the Greek, but not of the Demotic magical spells, and they seem to make more sense for users outside the Egyptian priestly milieu, whereas the priests themselves would have naturally known this code by heart. 116 Of course, in general, we do find instructions to wear specialised dresses that are in accordance with specific rituals also in Egyptian ritual texts, for instance in funerary literature,117 but not the general advice to wear a prophet’s garb. The second common feature of PGM I 262–347, PGM II 64–183 and PGM IV 930– 1114 is a final dismissal of the god – in PGM IV even a second ‘dismissal of the brightness’ – that consists of (reversing) ritual actions and/or offerings plus an invocation.118 Dismissals are absent from all the Demotic lamp divination spells, except perhaps the already quoted P. Mag. LL, 17, 1–26, where the magician, after finishing the inquiry of the boy medium, has to turn around, let the boy close his eyes again, and recite an invocation to protect the boy and let him return to ‘his earlier path’ (17, 17– 20). As mentioned before, this recitation might equally be interpreted as a kind of phylactery for the boy, but it seems to imply that the gods and demons leave him peacefully, and the parallel between dismissal and phylactery in the Greek case study spell supports the close relationship between both. Finally, we may ask: what might be the reasons for these differences?
4. Conclusion: cultural plurality and redactional history It seems to me that in the Greek magical formularies – in contrast to the Demotic ones – we may recognise an urge to add even more structure, explicit descriptions of details and preconditions to the instructions. This was probably done in order to facilitate the utilisation, to make it safer (phylacteries and dismissals) and potentially more successful (detailed descriptions of what will be seen)119 for users outside the ritually experienced group of Egyptian priests. 115
PGM I 262–347 (279 and 289–91): dress in prophetic garment, refrain from unclean things, eating fish and sexual intercourse. PGM II 64–183 (74–6): anointment of the body. PGM IV 930– 1114 (933–6): dress in prophetic garment with doum palm fibers, head crowned with olive sprig, tied with a single clove of garlic (or: garlic with a single shoot? σκόρδον μονογενὲς) around the middle. Cf. also PGM IV 1331–89 (a multifunctional Bear ritual): anoint lips with fat, smear body with storax oil, hold single-shooted Egyptian onion, gird with male date palm fiber. See for the single components AUFRÈRE, Parures vegetales. 116 The outsider view on and use of customs of the Egyptian priesthood or stereotypes of them has been discussed in a wider scope by Jacco DIELEMAN in his book on the London and Leiden bilingual manuscripts: DIELEMAN, Priests, 185–284. 117 See e.g. the overview in ESCHWEILER, Bildzauber, 258–63. 118 PGM I 262–347 (334–47): reversing actions, burnt offering, invocation. PGM II 64–183 (175– 83): libation and burnt offering, invocation. PGM IV 930–1114 (1055–169): dismissal 1 (reversing actions and invocation); dismissal 2 (reversing action, other action, invocation). 119 Descriptions of what will be seen/the appearance of the god/demon are relatively seldom in Demotic: P. Mag. LL, 4, 1–22; (P. Mag. LL, 18, 7–33); P. Mag. LL 23, 27–31.
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The extremely detailed and clearly arranged structure of the Greek example spell PGM IV 930–1114 attests to a careful and well-reasoned final editing that is lacking in so many other spells of the magical papyri. Apart from that, the elaborate way in which for instance the original Egyptian ‘prayer to the sun-god in the morning’ has been realised by expressing Egyptian contents with Greek hexameters and even by quoting a Homeric passage, speaks in favour of a very well educated composer of the spell as a whole or of its central parts, who must have been versed in Egyptian theology and familiar with the Egyptian sources as well as Greek literature. This hypothetical composer does absolutely not have to be identical with the editor of the documented final version of the spell, and both are certainly not identical with the compiler of PGM IV who integrated our lamp divination – probably with no or only minor changes – into his magical handbook, which is demonstrated among other things by the mentioned structural markers, which are not used in this way in the manuscript as a whole. We may even try to follow the redactional history of this spell to some earlier stages: a rough outline, at least, can be drawn up by means of a detailed comparison with the Demotic lychnomancy spells as well as with other Greek and Demotic spells in general. At the core we have an Egyptian ritual to create visions by means of a lamp surrounded by the darkness of a room, the roots of which have probably originally developed under the influence of bowl divination.120 This latter ritual technique might in turn in its origins go back to Babylonian oil omina; comparable texts for reading omina in vessels filled with oil and water are attested already in New Kingdom Egypt.121 At some point, however, ‘ominal lecanomancy’ has advanced to a hallucinatory practice, which is the form (mostly) encountered in the PGM/PDM – most authors seem to assume that the group responsible for this change were the Persians, although direct sources are lacking.122 All the Jewish material, which is however confined to names or voces magicae and understandable epithets within the invocations, seems to have filtered in at a relatively early stage,123 as they are attested, in parts even in direct parallels, also in the Demotic lamp divinations of P. Mag. LL (but not in the earlier papyrus from Tebtynis). Additionally, we have to bear in mind that Jews were almost entirely driven out from Egypt after the revolts of 115–117 CE.124 On the other hand, by now scholars mostly assume that at least a small number of Jews survived in or were moved to Alexandria.125 In a 120
For the close ties between these two practices cf. e.g. CUNEN, Lampe et coupe. DEMICHELIS, Divination par l’huile. See on the Babylonian form PETTINATO, Ölwahrsagung; PETTINATO, Zur Überlieferungsgeschichte. 122 DEMICHELIS, Divination par l’huile, 152; VERGOTE, Joseph, 174–5; CUNEN, Prâtiques divinatoires; GANSZYNIEC, Λεκανομαντεία: lecanomancy was originally associated with the Persians by Classical authors, e.g. Varro ap. Augustinus, De Civ. Dei, 7.35; Strabo 16.2.39.12–13. 123 For early reciprocal influences of Jewish and Egyptian religion within the milieu of the Jewish communities in Egypt (from the Persian Period onwards) see MO. SMITH, Jewish Elements, 242–3 and 254–6: many Jewish elements that are found in the Graeco-Egyptian papyri probably came in through this relatively early syncretism and are not related to rabbinic Judaism. 124 Cf. MO. SMITH, Jewish Elements, 256. 125 TCHERIKOVER/FUKS, Corpus Papyrorum Judaicorum, 93; HORBURY, Jewish War, 233–5. 121
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more extensive survey of Jewish influences in the Greek and Demotic magical papyri, QUACK comes to the (most likely) conclusion that these elements were added only after the Jewish revolt, i.e. in the second century CE.126 At a certain time, these rituals were adapted for Greek language formularies, sometimes without many changes to the Egyptian models, as is the case for instance in the Greek language but Egyptian tradition spell PGM VII 540–78. Some other spells rooted in Egyptian tradition, however, – and to these belongs the example from PGM IV – were then dressed in a specific way for the purpose of being used handily by outsiders to the Egyptian ritual tradition (or perhaps even also to insiders to a gradually deteriorating tradition as well as to more recent currents that have grown together from many different sources?): specific prescriptions for the ritual dress and attire, amulets to be worn and more explanations were added, as well as a formal dismissal of the god, which also seems to be rather typical for Greek, less so for Egyptian spells. Fig. 1: Redactional history of lychnomancy rituals
Babylonian oil omina Egyptian ritual tradition Jewish names and epithets
Advanced Persian form?
adaptation
Egyptian oil omina
??
influence
addition
Egyptian lamp divination ritual
??
Egyptian bowl divination
Demotic lamp divinations of pMag LL adaptation
Greek lamp divinations, e.g. PGM VII 540–78 Greek hymn, isopsephy, vowels
adaptation addition
addition
PGM IV 930–1114
126
QUACK, Alttestamentliche Motive, esp. 165–71.
‘Greek’ elements for better usability
‘We Are Such Stuff as Dream Oracles Are Made on’: Greek and Egyptian Traditions and Divine Personas in the Dream Divination Spells of the Magical Papyri LJUBA MERLINA BORTOLANI The designation ‘dream oracle’ in the corpus of the magical papyri1 refers to those spells in which some kind of knowledge is acquired through an induced dream. However, despite this simple definition, it is not always easy to determine whether an incantation should be considered a dream oracle or not. For the ritual can become very complex and include auxiliary spells or implements which are typical of other divinatory techniques. At the same time, whenever the spell does not have a title or the papyrus is fragmentary, the scant amount of details can often be confusing. The criterion I chose to select the dream oracles of the magical papyri, it is simply to take into account the indication that the practitioner has ‘to go to sleep’ as part of the ritual and that whatever revelation he is seeking will be obtained through sleeping. So, regardless of whether the magical procedure requires also the use of other implements such as a lamp or a magical ring, a prescription such as ‘go to sleep’ is considered the fundamental element to identify a dream oracle.2
1 Including both Greek (PGM) and Demotic (PDM) documents. For a detailed overview of the corpus see BRASHEAR, Greek Magical Papyri, and RITNER, Egyptian Magical Practice. The papyri date mainly from the second to the fifth century CE, but the Demotic ones are earlier in date (the latest ones date from the first half of the third century). The fundamental edition for the Greek material (about 200 papyri) remains PREISENDANZ/HENRICHS (eds.), Papyri Graecae Magicae, complemented by DANIEL/MALTOMINI, Supplementum Magicum (SM). The Demotic material (four main papyri) was available to scholars already in the 1970s, though in separate publications: GRIFFITH/THOMPSON, Demotic Magical Papyrus; H.I. BELL/NOCK/THOMPSON (eds.), Magical Texts; JOHNSON, Leiden I 384; JOHNSON, Louvre E 3229. A fifth Demotic papyrus has recently been recognised as a fragment of a magical handbook, see DIELEMAN, Spätagyptisches magisches Handbuch; SEDERHOLM, Papyrus British Museum (though problematic, see QUACK, Review of SEDERHOLM); cf. CRUM, Egyptian Text. RITNER, Egyptian Magical Practice, 3343–5, adds also a tablet and an ostrakon plus a few other papyri (from the ‘Faiyum Temple Archive’: REYMOND, From the Contents), but they can hardly be considered magical, see QUACK, Kontinuität und Wandel, n. 2. The count of the Demotic texts is still to be enlarged by a number of unpublished sources which are important for the historical development of the genre, see e.g. n. 8. For the English translation of most texts (both Greek and Demotic) see BETZ (ed.), GMPT (which is used also in this article for the translation of the prose passages of the PGM and of some PDM, cf. n. 5); see also QUACK, Demotische magische und divinatorische Texte, for an updated translation of a selection of Demotic spells. 2 Cf. for Mesopotamia the idiomatic wording ‘to lay down in order to see a dream’ as crucial to detect an incubation (see ZGOLL, Traum, 309–52).
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Following this criterion, it is possible to recognise twenty-nine dream oracles in the corpus of the magical papyri. PGM IV 3172–208 PGM V 370–439 PGM V 440–583 PGM VI 1–47+II 1–644 PGM VII 222–49 PGM VII 250–54 PGM VII 255–9 PGM VII 359–69 PGM VII 478–90 PGM VII 628–42 PGM VII 664–85 PGM VII 703–26 PGM VII 740–55 PGM VII 795–845 PGM VII 1009–16 PGM VIII 64–110 PGM XII 144–51 PGM XII 190–92 PDM xiv 93–114 PDM xiv 117–49 PDM xiv 150–231 PDM xiv 1070–77 PGM XXIIb 27–31 PGM XXIIb 32–5
‘Marvellous apparition in a dream using three reeds’ No title ‘Another’ No title ‘Request for a dream oracle from Besas’ ‘Request for a dream oracle’ ‘Another to the same lamp’ ‘Request for a dream oracle’ No title No title ‘Request for a dream oracle’ ‘Request for a dream oracle’ No title ‘Pythagoras’ request for a dream oracle and Democritus’ astrological interpreter of dreams’ ‘Oracular response by a dream’ ‘Request for a dream oracle from Besas’ ‘Request for a dream’ ‘Request for a dream oracle’ ‘An inquiry for instructions which the great god Imhotep makes’5 ‘A tested “reaching god”’ ‘An inquiry of the lamp’ ‘A spell to bring a woman to a man, to send dreams (another manuscript says to dream dreams)’ ‘Request for a dream oracle to a lamp’ ‘Another request for a dream oracle’
3 The two dream oracles of PGM V are divided by PREISENDANZ and BETZ as V 370–446 and 447–58, while here lines 440–46 have been attributed not to the first but to the second spell (i.e. V 370–439 and 440–58). In fact, in the final part of V 370–439 (a dream oracle of Hermes) we find two strings of voces magicae: a ‘Stele (στήλη) written on the papyri belonging to the figure’ and a ‘Spell of compulsion’ which should end with the ‘hundred-lettered name of Hermes’. However, the name is not written and its mention is followed by three blank lines allegedly left to insert the name at a later stage. The following section, lines 440–46, is introduced by a paragraphos and contains an invocation mainly constituted by voces magicae starting with ‘Another (Ἄλλη)… spoken to the lamp’. Ἄλλη, being feminine, seems to refer to the previous στήλη, and not to the spell of compulsion, and στήλη in the PGM usually applies either to whole spells or to an important invocation within a spell. So, if we included lines 440–46 in the dream oracle of Hermes, we should interpret them as a second, alternative ‘Stele written on the papyri belonging to the figure’ which has to be spoken to a lamp. However, curiously enough, in the rest of the spell there is no mention of it, and not even of a lamp. On the contrary, the following spell in 447–58 mentions not only a lamp, but also an invocation to be recited seven times, which surprisingly does not appear in this portion of text. Therefore, the missing invocation in 447–58 seems to be the second ‘stele’ in lines 440–46: ‘another (stele)’ should thus be interpreted as ‘another main invocation’, ‘another spell’, signalling the beginning of a new ritual procedure as the presence of the paragraphos would also suggest. 4 For PGM VI and PGM II as two parts of the same handbook see CHRONOPOULOU, PGM VI. 5 The English translation of PDM xiv 93–114, 117–49, PDM lxi 63–78, PDM Suppl. 130–38 and 149–62, generally follows QUACK, Demotische magische und divinatorische Texte.
‘We Are Such Stuff as Dream Oracles Are Made on’ PDM lxi 63–78 PDM Suppl. 130–38 PDM Suppl. 149–62 SM 79.12–18 SM 85
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‘[A “reaching god” of] Har-Thoth’ ‘A “reaching god” of Osiris’ ‘A “reaching god” of Thoth’ ‘To see a true dream’ ‘Request for a dream’
Among these, PGM VII 222–49 and VIII 64–110 are just two different versions of the same ‘Request for a dream oracle from Besas (Bes)’: the second one is the more extended while the first one presents a shorter ritual. Similarly, PGM V 370–439 and VII 664–85 share the same metric invocation to Hermes and the second spell could be just a very simplified version of the first one (even if one cannot be totally sure since it is difficult to compare rituals that differ so much in length). We could also add to this list some ambiguous or dubious cases in which, for example, even if the prescription to go to sleep is missing, parallels, or some vague elements in the ritual or in the invocation, could suggest these spells were dream oracles: e.g. PGM II 64–183,6 PGM VII 993– 1009, PDM xii 21–49, PDM xiv 232–8, PDM xiv 1141–54, PGM XVIIb 1–23,7 PDM Suppl. 168–84,8 SM 90.9 Even without counting the dubious cases, the dream oracle remains the commonest divination technique attested in the extant magical papyri and also the most heterogeneous. In fact, many different magical practices can be used to obtain dream revelations: as already mentioned, many spells require the use of a lamp (typical of lamp divination rituals);10 others require the preparation of laurel leaves or wreaths, many different deities can be invoked and the invocation can be very long or very short (maybe just voces magicae), it can be spoken, or written or both; in some cases the magician has to write an invocation on papyrus, in some others on a strip of tin; some spells require a special bed or a special ink, offerings or compulsive procedures, a phylactery, an engraved ring, bricks, special ointments, but in many other cases none of these are mentioned; and so on… The commonest recurring elements are the presence of an invocation and the use of a lamp. But the remaining parts of these spells can vary a lot, so that it would seem to be impossible to trace all the dream oracles back to a common magical ritual. This great variety may be explained in connection with the predominance of the dream oracle technique in the magical papyri: if the dream oracle 6 This spell immediately follows the dream oracle PGM VI 1–47+II 1–64, is presented as its alternative, invokes similar deities and does include the prescription to ‘go to sleep’. However, sleeping is just a part of the complex ritual the magician has to perform and not the means through which communication with the deity is achieved. 7 This fragmentary papyrus preserved a hexametrical invocation that parallels the one found in the dream oracles addressed to Hermes (PGM V 370–439 and VII 664–85). 8 Similar cases are P. Brooklyn 47.218.47 vs. (mostly in Hieratic script but linguistically early Demotic) and P. Heidelberg Dem. 5 (Professor J.F. QUACK is working on the publication of both texts, see QUACK, Imhotep, 58–60): they contain invocations to Imhotep to obtain visions, possibly in dreams but, considering they are still unpublished and that in the majority of cases there is no clear reference to the dream oracle technique, they will not be taken into consideration on this occasion. 9 This fragmentary papyrus (= PGM CII in BETZ [ed.], GMPT) preserved an invocation and scraps of a ritual involving a lamp that parallel the ones found in the dream oracles of Bes in PGM VII 222– 49 and VIII 64–110. 10 On the subject see the contribution by SVENJA NAGEL in this volume.
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was the commonest divination method, its popularity could underlie the devising of multiple rituals for the same kind of spell. However, the popularity of the dream oracle in the corpus could be just an illusion created by the extant papyri since we cannot be sure that the situation would have been the same if more handbooks had been preserved. On the other hand, the differences in ritual could correspond to a different cultural/religious origin of the single spells, and thus their investigation could shed light on the dynamics of cultural plurality and/or fusion in the dream oracles of the magical papyri. Considering the heterogeneous nature of this category of spells, the best solution for a preliminary analysis seemed to identify some common features (even if they are not shared by all the dream oracles but only by some of them) that may help creating some dream oracles’ subgroups. Those spells that are very short and constituted only by a brief invocation but no proper ritual (PGM VII 250–54 and 255–9, PGM XII 190–92, PDM xiv 1070–77, PGM XXIIb 27–31 and 32–5, SM 79.12–18 and SM 85) will be excluded from this analysis.11 The dubious cases will be also excluded, so the discussion will focus on a group of twenty-one dream oracles and their contents, in particular on some ritual implements and on the divine personas addressed by the spells in connection with Greek and/or Egyptian tradition. Unfortunately, the commonest feature, i.e. the use of a lamp, cannot be considered particularly relevant in itself as far as cultural origin is concerned, also because we are not dealing with proper lychnomancy in the dream oracles, since the lamp is present merely as an implement, an accessory, but is not the means through which the god is supposed to appear and prophesy. First, the dream oracles prescribe to go to sleep, they often refer to the bed chamber and to the bed itself, and to the fact that they have to be performed at night. So this setting could actually be enough to justify the presence of a lamp; an object which probably anyone would have used before going to bed and that the practitioners of the dream oracles needed to provide the light necessary to perform the different preliminary rituals. The need of this ordinary object could be a sufficient reason to explain why a lamp is often used in these spells. Second, lamps are widespread in the magical papyri since, given the private setting of the spells, they are often used as domestic substitutes for temple altars, censers or sacrificial fires. And though true that they played a large role in Egyptian temple ritual, they were present also in Greek ritual, especially linked spatially to the altar and the offerings.12 As a
11
In fact, their details are so few that it is almost impossible to compare them with those of the remaining dream oracles. In particular PGM VII 250–54, 255–9, XXIIb 27–31, 32–5 and SM 79.12– 18 offer two alternative pre-set dream options and thus represent a separate subgroup within the dream oracles, see MERKELBACH/TOTTI (eds.), Abrasax V, 85–91; BORTOLANI/NAGEL, Divination Rituals. 12 See JOHNSTON, Greek Divination, 158–9 (lamp divination could also be a variation of temple cult, i.e. empyromancy, divining by the flames of the sacrificial fire, practiced at the temples of Zeus at Olympia and Apollo in Thebes) and 165–6; cf. JOHNSTON, Fiat lux, fiat ritus; see also EATON, Temple Ritual, 42–51; PARISINOU, Light of the Gods; PATERA, Light and Lighting Equipment, especially 265–6; ZOGRAFOU, Magic Lamps; GEE, Lamp Divination, 216; cf. COX MILLER, Dreams, 119– 20.
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matter of fact, many dream oracles say merely that the recitation has to be spoken to the lamp, or just mention that a lamp is present. PGM V 440–58 PGM VI 1–47+II 1–64 PGM VII 222–49 PGM VII 478–90 PGM VII 664–85 PGM VII 703–26 PDM lxi 63–78
Recitation to be spoken to the lamp while waving an object towards it Recitation to be spoken to the lamp Recitation to be spoken to the lamp ‘Go to your quarters, put out the lamp’ Recitation to be spoken to the lamp Piece of papyrus inscribed with the recitation to be placed under the lamp Recitation to be spoken to the laurel opposite the lamp lit on a table
On the other hand, the presence of a lamp becomes more interesting when the spells describe some details that can be connected, at least originally, with a specific religious tradition. The most interesting cases are PDM xiv 117–49 and 150–231. In fact, these are the only two spells of the group that are actually lamp divinations, since the god is supposed to appear in the flame of the lamp, but they have been listed also under the dream oracles because they offer an alternative procedure to obtain the same revelations in a dream.13 These spells have parallels both in the ritual and in the invocations in the other seven lamp divinations of PDM xiv, papyrus London-Leiden. SVENJA NAGEL discusses lamp divination in this volume, so there is no need to get into any detail here, but it is worth remembering that these spells, though including other elements, especially Jewish, have a very strong Egyptian cultural background: there are many references to very specific Egyptian deities, or specific Egyptian mythology, and we can find various Egyptian magical techniques such as the threatening of the gods, the magician identifying himself with the deity or the use of a boy medium.14 In particular, two typical elements of Demotic lamp divinations (that appear also in PDM xiv 117–49 and 150–231)15 are especially interesting for the analysis of the dream oracles. They are, first, the prescription of using a lamp ‘not painted red’, in connection with the Egyptian tradition according to which ‘red’ was a Sethian colour and thus should be avoided;16 second, the fact that this prescription always goes together with a detailed description of the wick and the oil that have to be put into the lamp. These ‘Egyptian’ features, typical of Demotic lamp divinations, can be found again in other six dream oracles: in four cases together, while in other two the lamp not painted red is missing but we still find details about the wick and the oil.
13 There is also another case, PDM xiv 817–40: it will not be taken into consideration because here the dream oracle option is mentioned only cursorily and no details are given about the ritual procedure. 14 E.g. BRASHEAR, Greek Magical Papyri, 3390–95; KÁKOSY, Probleme der Religion, 3028–43; SAUNERON, Aspects et sort, 11–21; RITNER, Egyptian Magical Practice, 3345–55, 3362–71; RITNER, Mechanics, in particular 112–19, 157–9, 193–9; KOENIG, Magie et magiciens, 60–72, 156–65; QUACK, From Ritual to Magic; cf. JOHNSTON, Charming Children. 15 Also in PDM xiv 817–40, see above n. 13. 16 BRUNNER-TRAUT, Farben, D.3; RITNER, Mechanics, 147–8; ZOGRAFOU, Magic Lamps, 279; for dšr, ‘the red one’, typical epithet of Seth, see LGG VIII, 668 H.5.
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Demotic lamp divinations/dream oracles: Lamp not coloured red
Details about the wick and the oil
PDM xiv 117–49
X (Recitation to be spoken to a white lamp, the magician sees the god near the lamp)
The wick has to be clean and inscribed with a vox magica and figures, the lamp should be filled with genuine/olive oil
PDM xiv 150–231
X (Recitations to be spoken to a white lamp, the god appears near the lamp)
The wick has to be clean and inscribed with a vox magica and figures, the lamp should be filled with clean genuine oasis oil (different wicks and oils are listed according to variations in the aims of the procedure)
Other dream oracles: Lamp not coloured red
Details about the wick and the oil
PGM VI 1–47+II 1–64
X (in the compulsive procedures)
The lamp should be prepared with fine, pure oil of radishes previously poured over an uncorrupted boy and then gathered up
PGM IV 3172–208
X (Recitation to be spoken to the lamp)
The lamp should be filled with pure olive oil, the wick is made with a clean strip of cloth and inscribed with a magical formula
PGM VII 359–69
PGM VIII 64–110 (PGM VII 222– 49?) PDM Suppl. 149– 62
The lamp should be filled with pure olive oil, the wick is made with a strip of clean linen and inscribed with voces magicae (the recitation has to be spoken to the lamp) X (Recitation to be spoken to the lamp)
The lamp should be filled with sesame oil, the wick is made with a strip of linen soaked in sesame oil mixed with cinnabar The lamp should be new, very clean and filled with genuine oil, the wick is made with byssus-cloth (the recitation has to be spoken to the lamp)
In PGM VII 222–49, one of the two versions of the dream oracle addressed to the god Bes, the recitation has to be spoken to a lamp but its colour or details about it and its wick are not mentioned. However, considering the parallel spell PGM VIII 64–110, this absence may be due to the shorter length of the ritual, and thus PGM VII 222–49 might also be included in this group of dream oracles.17
17 Similarly, the fragmentary SM 90 (see above n. 9) mentions a recitation spoken to a lamp and could have included details about its colour and wick.
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As far as the deities invoked in the dream oracles are concerned, as previously mentioned, they are very heterogeneous (for the following discussion about the divine personas of the dream oracles see Table I). In some cases no specific god is invoked: there is just a generic address like ‘I conjure you by the sleep releaser’ (PGM IV 3172–208), or the magician appeals to unspecified entities such as ‘lords’ or ‘gods’ (PGM VII 703–26 and 740–55); Hermes appears three times (two of which in the parallel spells PGM V 370–439 and VII 664–85, and then in PGM XII 144–51); the Egyptian god Bes appears twice together with the Headless god (but again this happens in the two versions of the same spell PGM VII 222–49 and VIII 64–110);18 the Headless god though appears also in PGM VI 1–47+II 1–64, but only in the form of a drawing while the main deity in this case is Apollo invoked together with Daphne. An unspecified solar deity is the main focus of PDM xiv 93–114, while in PDM xiv 117– 49 and 150–231 the main deity appears to be Osiris conceived as the counterpart of the Egyptian solar god in accordance with the other Demotic lamp divination spells.19 Thoth appears twice (PDM Suppl. 149–62 and PDM lxi 63–78 in the form Har-Thoth), and then we find just single instances for Sarapis (PGM V 440–58), Seth (PGM VII 359–69), Eros (PGM VII 478–90), Asklepios (PGM VII 628–42), Osiris with Isis and Nephthys (PDM Suppl. 130–38), the angel Zizaubio (PGM VII 795–845), the epithet Sabaoth together with Michael, Raphael and Gabriel (PGM VII 1009– 16).20 Now, it is generally true that in Graeco-Roman Egypt, and especially in the PGM, a Greek or an Egyptian name of a god does not necessarily correspond to a Greek or an Egyptian religious background.21 But in some cases, or when more details are given, it is still possible to trace a connection with a specific religious tradition. For example, PGM V 440–58 is a dream oracle centred on a ring with an engraved image of Sarapis. The main information given about the deity is: ‘on a jasper-like agate engrave Sarapis seated, facing forwards, holding an Egyptian royal scepter and on the scepter an ibis...’. In a case like this, in which there are no other epithets or details that may suggest that the underlying divine persona is actually connected with the Egyptian Osiris, or Osiris-Apis, the choice of the Hellenistic Sarapis22 can be significant in itself, especially considering that he never appears in the Demotic spells. The dream oracle says that the figure should ‘hold an Egyptian royal sceptre’ with an ibis on top, but the fact that the author felt the necessity of specifying that the sceptre has to be Egyptian, seems to
18
Or three versions, if we consider SM 90 as a dream oracle (see above n. 9). On which, see the contribution of SVENJA NAGEL in this volume. 20 In the last two cases the addressees are mainly connected with Jewish tradition, so they will not be analysed in this discussion which focuses on Greek and Egyptian backgrounds. 21 E.g. KÁKOSY, Probleme der Religion; PFEIFFER, Entsprechung, especially 288–9; KAPER, Synkretistische Götterbilder, especially 305. 22 On Sarapis and his development from WsÏr-Op, Osiris-Apis, see QUACK, Sarapis, especially 237–8, 241–7; PFEIFFER, Serapis; S. SCHMIDT, Serapis; STAMBAUGH, Sarapis, especially 12–13, 41– 4, 61–5; DUNAND, Culte d’Isis dans le basin I, 45–66; TRAN TAM TINH, État des études, 1713–22; see also BORGEAUD/VOLOKHINE, Légende de Sarapis. In particular on Osiris-Apis, see DEVAUCHELLE, Osiris, Apis, Sarapis; DEVAUCHELLE, Pas d’Apis pour Sarapis, stressing the predominance of Osiris and the minor role played by Apis in the ‘birth’ of Sarapis. 19
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imply a ‘foreign’ perspective. Therefore, the presence of Sarapis would seem to be more in line with a Hellenistic background. On the contrary, PGM VII 359–69 invokes ‘the one who shakes, who thunders, who has swallowed the serpent... and hour by hour raises the disk of the sun, Seth...’, epithets which fit the traditional image of Seth as god of confusion, of storms, thunders and consequently also earthquakes,23 and especially his role as protector of the sungod during his journey through the Netherworld who contributes to the annihilation of the serpent Apophis.24 PGM VII 478–90 invokes Eros, but no other epithets or details are given about the deity. Therefore, despite the apparently Greek specificity of a god like Eros, who did not have a proper Egyptian equivalent, we cannot surely ascribe this deity to a cultural background because it could have been associated with Horus the child, as it happens at least in one other passage of the magical papyri (PGM XII 14–95).25 In PGM VII 628–42 the magician has to engrave a ring with the ‘image of Asklepios worshipped in Memphis’, which refers to his Egyptian counterpart Imhotep, the vizier, physician and architect who lived in the time of king Djoser, was later deified and then identified with Asklepios by the Greeks, and whose major cult site was Memphis.26 The spell does not give many other details about the god, but the specificity of the cultic site seems to imply that Imhotep is meant here.27 Imhotep appears also in PDM xiv 93–114, where the spell is attributed to him, but the god addressed in the Greek invocation is a solar god described as exerting control also over darkness (‘…I call upon you who are seated in the invisible darkness and are in the midst of the great gods, you who set and take with you the solar rays and send up the light-bringing goddess... Sun... Send up to me this night your archangel…’). In this case the invocation does not display any unambiguous specific Egyptian reference, but the deity’s connection with darkness, together with the idea that he has to ‘send up’ his archangel, thus probably from the Underworld, seem to imply that this solar 23
TE VELDE, Seth; MEEKS, Génies, anges, 35–6; ZANDEE, Seth; already in PT e.g. 247, § 1150c; see also e.g. MASSART, Leiden Magical Papyrus, recto IV 9–11, VII 5–6 and notes (pp. 66–7), X 12 and note (p. 82); see also TURNER, Seth, 69. 24 The giant serpent embodying the principle of chaos, threatening every night the sun’s journey through the Netherworld and thus the cosmic order, who every night has to be defeated by the sungod with the help of all his entourage: see e.g. BoD, Ch. 39 (where Seth uses the thunder to defeat Apophis). HORNUNG, Nachtfahrt der Sonne, 111–13; TURNER, Seth, 30, 45, 52; WIEBACH-KOEPKE, Sonnenlauf, 199–200; LGG VIII, 668 M. On the act of swallowing also as a means of annihilation see RITNER, Mechanics, 102–10; cf. BoD Ch. 108. 25 A spell to acquire Eros as an assistant, in which both a scarab (one of the manifestations of the Egyptian sun-god) is used in the procedure as a symbol for Eros and the god is addressed with many epithets of Egyptian solar deities. 26 WILDUNG, Imhotep und Amenhotep, especially 48–87; WILDUNG, Imhotep (LdÄ); D.J. THOMPSON, Memphis, 209–11; KÁKOSY, Probleme der Religion, 2973–9; P. Oxy. 1381 with introduction; QUACK, Imhotep; cf. RAY, Ancient Egypt, 176, 184; HURRY, Imhotep, 29–73. 27 The dream oracle also employs the vox magica SIPHTHA, Egyptian for ‘son of Ptah’ (and Imhotep was said to be the son of the god Ptah, see above n. 26), and prescribes drowning a lizard ‘to deify it’ (on deification through drowning as typical of Egyptian tradition see GRIFFITH, Herodotus II.90; SPIEGELBERG, Demotische Miszellen).
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god is conceived as travelling through the Netherworld.28 Therefore, even if the invocation may have originated in a different cultural background, it still fits Egyptian solar deities much more than Greek ones. PDM xiv 117–49 addresses again a solar deity with an invocation which is also found in many other Demotic lamp divinations: …He who gives plenty of light, the companion of the fire, he in whose mouth is the fire which is not extinguished, the great god who is seated in the fire, he who is in the midst of the fire which is in the Lake of Heaven (metaphorical term referring to zenith, midday)... (P. Mag. LL, 5, 12–13)
Even in this case the important aspect is that, despite the origin of the single epithets,29 the connection between the fire/flame and the light of the solar gods, here triggered also by the flame of the lamp in which the god is supposed to appear, has a long tradition in Egyptian religion expressed by epithets such as ‘great of flame’ (o#nbÏt)30 and ‘the one who hides in his flame’ (sSt#-sw-m-nbÏt.f).31 At the same time, fire is one of the means with which the solar deities can annihilate their enemies as well represented by their fire-spitting uraeus. Subsequently, the solar god himself can be described as the one who spits fire from his mouth32 or has a fire-spitting tongue (stSs#, ‘with fire-sparkling tongue’).33 In conclusion, also this invocation, which appears to have been adapted to the solar-Osirian frame of the rest of the ritual, fits Egyptian solar deities more than Greek ones. The same passage appears again in PDM xiv 150–231, together with other invocations addressed for example to the wick and to the lamp itself, e.g.: ...are you the unique, great wick of the linen of Thoth? Are you the byssus robe of Osiris, the divine Drowned, woven by the hand of Isis, spun by the hand of Nephthys? Are you the original bandage which was made for Osiris Khentyamenti? Are you the great bandage with which Anubis lifted his hand to the body of Osiris the mighty god?... (P. Mag. LL, 6, 11–13)
In this case, it is not really a matter of a single divine persona, but the many Egyptian deities and allusions to Egyptian mythology, mainly centred on Osiris (also as counterpart of the solar deity),34 are enough to state that these invocations fit an Egyptian background and not a Greek one. Osiris appears also in PDM Suppl. 130–38 (‘...O Isis, O Nephthys, O noble soul of Osiris Wennefer, come to me! I am your loving son,
28 As typical of the Egyptian religious imagery, e.g. WIEBACH-KOEPKE, Sonnenlauf, especially 9– 33; PIANKOFF, Litany, 10–21; cf. BoD Ch. 17; especially on the solar-Osirian unity see NIWINSKY, Solar-Osirian Unity; SPALINGER, Solar-Osirian Theology; though cf. QUACK, Anrufungen an Osiris, especially 180–81. 29 For some Jewish influences in these lamp divination/dream oracle spells see the contribution by SVENJA NAGEL in this volume. 30 LGG II, 29. 31 LGG VI, 648. 32 E.g. KOENIG, Papyrus Boulaq 6, recto 4, 1. 33 LGG VI, 685. On the symbolism of fire cf. HERMSEN, Bedeutung des Flammensees. 34 As SVENJA NAGEL, who extensively analysed this spell, pointed out, the Egyptian myth of the death, embalming and burial of Osiris plays a central role not only in various parts of this ritual but also more generally in lamp divinations, see BORTOLANI/NAGEL, Divination Rituals.
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Horus...’)35 and again the nature of the deity described is perfectly in line with Egyptian tradition: Isis and Nephthys are mentioned, Osiris is called with one of his most typical Egyptian epithets, Wennefer, WsÏr wn-nfr, ‘Osiris the perfect being’,36 and the magician identifies himself with Horus the son of Osiris. Another reference to this deity is found in the figure of the Headless god, who is invoked in the two oracles of Bes (PGM VII 222–49 and VIII 64–110) and also appears as a drawing in PGM VI 1–47+II 1–64 addressed to Apollo. The scholars who analysed this divine entity had different theories,37 but the point on which there is general agreement is that the Headless god can be identified with Osiris – whether he was originally a form of Osiris or was later identified with him despite a different origin. For this particular headless iconography would be associated with the myth of the dismembering of the god.38 Even more interestingly, in the dream oracles the Headless god-Osiris appears twice in connection with Bes, 39 and a connection between these two deities can be found again in the city of Abydos.40 Moreover, Bes, though sometimes associated with figures such as Sileni and Satyrs in the Mediterranean world,41 was typically Egyptian and does not have a Greek counterpart in the magical papyri. Therefore, we can quite safely conclude that not only these deities, but also the association between these deities stemmed from an Egyptian religious background. PGM VIII 64–110 adds also a hexametrical hymn addressed to Helios:42 35
P. Louvre E 3229, 5, 14–15. ‘Osiris, der existiert, indem er vollkommen ist’ LGG II, 375 and 541. For the debate about the translation and precise meaning of this epithet see e.g. GRIFFITHS, Origins of Osiris, 90; GRIFFITHS, Plutarchus: De Iside, 460–61; MA. SMITH, Mortuary Texts, 100–101. 37 A. DELATTE, Études (A. DELATTE, in A. DELATTE/DERCHAIN, Intailles magiques, 42–9); PREISENDANZ, Akephalos; BONNER, SMA, 164–5, 297–8, no. 267; MEEKS, Dieu masqué; BERLANDINI, Acéphale; SARAGOZA, Acéphale. 38 As demonstrated by some earlier Egyptian representations of the headless Osiris or mentions of this deity: see the studies quoted in n. 37 above. 39 Thrice if we count SM 90 among the dream oracles, see above n. 9. 40 Abydos was considered to be one of the burial places of Osiris (e.g. GRIFFITHS, Osiris [LdÄ], II and XI; O’CONNOR, Abydos, especially 31–41; U. EFFLAND/A. EFFLAND, Abydos, especially 12–15, 17–97; cf. PETRIE, Abydos, 12–28) and, according to the myth, when the different parts of the dismembered body of Osiris were scattered by Seth in different places, Abydos received the head of the god (BEINLICH, ‘Osirisreliquien’, especially 21–7, 30–41, 69–72, 222–4; see also BERLANDINI, Acéphale, 30–31, n. 33). Moreover, Abydos was the site of the famous oracle of Bes which was active from about the first/second century to the fifth century CE and developed in the same site of an earlier sanctuary of Osiris-Sarapis (see PERDRIZET/LEFEBVRE, Inscriptiones Memnonii, xix–xxiii; PIANKOFF, Osireion; KÁKOSY, Probleme der Religion, 2935–6; DUNAND, Consultation oraculaire; FRANKFURTER, Religion, 169–74; FRANKFURTER, Voices, 238–43; RUTHERFORD, Pilgrimage; cf. U. EFFLAND/A. EFFLAND, Abydos, 126–8). On the association Bes-Headless god cf. BORTOLANI, Bes e l’ἀκέφαλος θεός. 41 See e.g. OHSHIRO, Absorption; BARRA BAGNASCO, Bes-Sileno; FISCHER, Zwerg; JESI, Bes e Sileno; MUSSINI, Musica e morte. 42 Which is paralleled in the longer metrical sections of PGM IV 436–61 and 1957–89. For the translations and a detailed analysis of the divine personas in this hymn and in the metrical sections of PGM VI 1–47+II 1–64 and II 64–183 quoted below see BORTOLANI, Magical Hymns, hymns nos. 2, 6, 7, 8. 36
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You who are carried by the breezes of the air-wandering winds, golden-haired Helios, who rule the flame’s indefatigable fire, who wrap up the great pole in ethereal paths, who generate all things yourself and all things in their turn dissolve; for the elements have been arranged by you in relation to your laws, which nourish all the cosmos which is of four turns per year. If you go in the recesses of the earth, in the region of the dead, send the truthful prophet from the inaccessible places.
As well known, the presence of Greek metre is not particularly significant in itself, since some of the so-called magical hymns were probably composed ad hoc for the magical context and describe divine personas quite different from those of Greek religious tradition. 43 Like in this case, in which, apart from the typically Greek iconographical feature ‘golden-haired’, the rest of the hymn describes a divine persona much more consistent with Egyptian solar creator gods than with the Hellenistic Helios. The deity is clearly identified with the physical sun, but for example the insistence on its connection with the winds, the breezes, the lofty turns, recalls especially Amun-Re, solar creator god but also ‘god and lord of the winds’ and ‘wind’ himself.44 Moreover, the god is again imagined as travelling through the Underworld from which he has to send the ‘truthful prophet’. In conclusion, despite the fact that the hymn includes at least one element from Greek religious tradition and it is addressed to Helios, the nature of the deity invoked is closer to the Egyptian theology of solar creator gods. Another example of a dream oracle using a Greek name but addressing an Egyptian divine persona is PGM XII 144–51: the spell is quite short and does not give many details, but what we can infer about the deity is still in line with Egyptian tradition: ...draw on a strip of linen the god Hermes, standing, ibis-faced... I conjure [you] by your father, Osiris, and Isis, your mother, to show me one of your forms and reveal concerning the things I want...
The addressee is Hermes ibis-faced, thus identified with Thoth (since the ibis was both sacred to, and one of the animal symbols/manifestations of, this deity), we find the couple Osiris-Isis (and not Sarapis-Isis) and Thoth is said to be their son. It would thus seem the spell addresses Horus-Thoth, Har-Thoth,45 as it happens also in PDM lxi 63– 78: ‘…Har-Thoth... Come to me Thoth, eldest one... who came forth from Atum, who was born in the form... as limb of Atum! Come to me, Thoth, heart of the sun-god, tongue of Tatenen... lord of truth...’.46 In this case the invocation to the god is rich in Egyptian elements and, as far as content is concerned, does not present any real sign of cultural fusion since the god is described with some traditional epithets of Thoth:
43
See BRASHEAR, Greek Magical Papyri, 3420–21; NOCK, Greek Magical Papyri, 222; RIESENRemarques, 153–60; RITNER, Egyptian Magical Practice, 3368–71; cf. FURLEY, Praise and Persuasion, 39–40. 44 LGG (AImn) VIII, 54 A.5, 68 A.5, and VII, 454 (T#w), 457 (T#w-nDm), VI, 221 (swH-mn-m-Xtnbt), I, 504 (Ïr-T#w), III, 783 (nb-T#w); cf. FAUTH, Helios Megistos, 65–6. 45 For the connection of Horus and Thoth see STADLER, Weiser und Wesir, 147–52, 310, 313. 46 P. BM EA 10588, 5, 1 and 5, 7–13. FELD,
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smsw-p#wt, ‘the eldest of primeval times’, 47 pr-m-vm, ‘who came forth from Atum’,48 Ïb-n-Ro, ‘heart of Re’, ns-n-v#-Tnn, ‘the tongue of Tatenen’,49 nb-M#ot, ‘lord of Maat (justice/truth)’.50 The situation changes when we analyse the other two spells addressing Hermes: PGM V 370–439 and VII 664–85. As mentioned before, the second spell could be a very simplified version of the first one and they both contain two versions of the same hexametrical hymn: Hermes, ruler of cosmos, who are in the heart, circle of the moon, spherical and square, founder of the words of language, (you) who obey justice, wearing a mantle, with winged sandals, who turn (around) an ethereal course beneath the abysses of the earth, who govern the wind, eye of Helios, mightiest one, founder of many-sounded speech, who with lamps make glad the mortals beneath the abysses of the earth, who have finished life; you are called foreseer of fates and divine Dream (θεῖος Ὄνειρος), you who send day- and night-oracles, cure all mortals’ pains with your healing cares. Come here, blessed one, mightiest son of Mnemosyne, who perfects mental powers...
In this case, the nature of the divine persona described is not so straightforward.51 The hymn presents quite balanced Egyptian and Greek traits: the god is a god of the moon also as the ‘eye of Helios’, i.e. the eye of Horus,52 he is the inventor of speech and writing, a god of justice, he is also imagined as travelling from/to the Underworld and playing a role in connection with the dead, and he is the one who heals all mortal pains. Though some of these functions can find a connection with Hermes,53 they especially fit the Egyptian lunar Thoth, the ‘lord of the divine-words’, nb-mdw-nTr,54 the one who ‘has let the writings speak’,55 ‘the one who acts according to Maat (justice/truth)’, ÏrM#ot,56 ‘the lord of Maat (Justice/Truth)’,57 judge of the deceased in the Netherworld, 47
LGG VIII, 719 E.1. LGG VIII, 724 P.1. 49 LGG VIII, 725 R.9. For these epithets see also STADLER, Weiser und Wesir, 180–81; DERCHAIN-URTEL, Thot, 81–94. 50 The goddess Maat personified the concept of order, truth, justice, morality and cosmic equilibrium, her symbol was a feather; for the epithet see LGG VIII, 721 G.2. See also STADLER, Weiser und Wesir, 327–43. 51 This hymn has been interpreted as the product of philosophical Hermetism (e.g. HEITSCH, Griechische Zauberhymnen, 223–36; cf. FOWDEN, Egyptian Hermes, 25–6), but it can be also explained simply as the translation of the Egyptian conception into Greek, see BORTOLANI, Hymn to Hermes (also for the translation of the hymn). See also CALVO MARTÍNEZ, Himno hermético; SUÁREZ DE LA TORRE, Himno(s)-plegaria. 52 In the Egyptian conception that imagines the moon as the eye of the solar god. OTTO, Augensagen; KRAUSS, Astronomische Konzepte, 261–74; BOYLAN, Thoth, 32–4, 62–75. 53 E.g. he was associated with speech and language as messenger of the gods and was able to travel in and from the Underworld as psychopompos, see below n. 82. 54 LGG III, 654. 55 Statue Berlin 2293: VAN TURAJEFF, Zwei Hymnen, 123 (= BARUCQ/DAUMAS, Hymnes et prières, 96, text D.3; = QUACK, Drei Hymnen, 152). 56 LGG I, 456–7, see also VIII, 720; cf. BoD Ch. 182, 183. 48
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god of medicine, skilled physician and patron of physicians.58 At the same time, the deity is described not only with iconographical features typical of the Greek Hermes, i.e. ‘with winged sandals’ and ‘wearing a mantle’ (χλαμυδηφόρε, as the chlamys does not belong to Egyptian tradition), and in connection with the Greek Mnemosyne, but he is also associated with dreams (θεῖος Ὄνειρος, ‘divine Dream’),59 which is typical of the Homeric Hermes as god of sleep and bringer of dreams. PGM VII 664–85 does not give other details as far as the deity invoked is concerned, but in PGM V 370–439 the ritual itself reflects the cultural fusion in the hymn: in fact, the magician has to prepare a mixture of ingredients combined with ‘the liquid of an ibis egg’, one of the sacred animals of Thoth, with which he will make a figurine of Hermes ‘wearing a mantle’ and ‘holding a herald’s staff’, i.e. with Greek iconographical features. Therefore, it seems these spells present a mixed divine persona with both originally Greek and originally Egyptian elements. On the other hand, Thoth appears again in PDM Suppl. 149–62 and here, considering the few details we have about the god, there is no sign of Greek influence. The invocation runs: ‘I call you O Thoth, the hearing-ear, who hears everything, I call you with your names which are praised... awaken for me, lord of truth!’60 The god is called the ‘hearing-ear’ and again the ‘lord of truth’. Even if ‘hearing-ear’ is more typical of Amun since the eastern temple at Karnak was dedicated to Amun msDr-sDm, ‘of the hearing-ear’, 61 this divine ability to hear human prayers is attested also for Thoth, especially in the epithet msDrwy-sDmwy, ‘the hearing ears’,62 and in the form EHwtysDm, ‘Thoth who ears’,63 and anyway cannot be connected with the Greek Hermes. So we can ascribe this spell to the ones consistent with an Egyptian divine persona. On the contrary, the Apollo of the dream oracle PGM VI 1–47+II 1–64 appears to fit a Greek religious background, at least as far as the divine persona described in the hexametrical hymn that constitutes the invocation is concerned. Here is an example: PGM VI 25–7 (paralleled in PGM II 2–4), PGM II 5–7 O helper (ἐπίρροθος) through divinations, Phoibos Apollo, Leto’s son (Λητοίδη), who dart afar (ἑκάεργε), prophet, come here, here, come here, prophesying, give oracles in the night’s hour... If ever, with a victory-loving laurel branch, you uttered good omens more than once here from the sacred peak, now too may you hasten towards me with truthful prophecies...
57
See above n. 50. See STADLER, Weiser und Wesir, 11–35, for a summary of the studies on the subject; also below n. 82. 59 See Hom. Il. 2.22 where the ‘divine dream’ is the dream sent by Zeus to Agamemnon. Hermes as agent of the divine messages is identified with the message itself. 60 P. Louvre E 3229, 6, 7–11. 61 On the subject E.E. MORGAN, Untersuchungen, especially 43–54; GIVEON, God Who Hears; LUISELLI, Suche nach Gottesnähe, 60, 195; cf. PETTAZZONI, Onniscienza, 98–100. 62 LGG VIII, 722 M.3. 63 Cf. STERN, Säulen, 54; also LGG VI, 738 (sDm-sprw, ‘the one who hears the prayers’). 58
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The invocation presents some traditional epithets of Apollo, in particular some Homeric ones, such as the rare ἐπίρροθος, ‘helper’, Λητοίδη, ‘Leto’s son’, ἑκάεργε, ‘fardarter’ or ‘far-worker’, and they appear in the PGM only in this dream oracle.64 Moreover, the second excerpt of the hymn mentions laurel, the sacred plant of Apollo.65 Similarly, both laurel leaves and a laurel wreath are essential to the procedure in the prose part of the spell. The laurel’s prestige as prophetic plant in Apollonian divination is even more stressed in PGM VI 6–19 and 39–44, where the hexametrical invocation addresses, together with Apollo, also the nymph Daphne, alluding to the mythological episode in which she was transformed by the god into a laurel plant.66 E.g. PGM VI 6–13: Daphne-laurel, sacred plant of Apollo’s divination, …(with whose) branches Phoibos wreathed …(his) head with beautiful long hair …shaking in his hands …of the… with many valleys, lofty …prophesy to mortals …grievous… Apollo himself …O maiden…
Despite the Greek specificity of the divine personas of Apollo and Daphne in the hexametrical invocation of PGM VI 1–47+II 1–64, the ritual seems to identify Apollo with the Headless god, whom the magician has to draw on a piece of papyrus to be put beside his head before going to sleep. The reasons behind this identification appear more clearly in the immediately following alternative spell PGM II 64–183 (see above n. 6), which presents many similarities with the dream oracle in question (including a drawing of the Headless god) even if it is aimed at an awake vision of the deity. Here, after an initial part addressed to Daphne and Apollo and rich in traditional Greek elements (PGM II 81–7),67 the hexametrical invocation proceeds with a section (PGM II 88–102) in which Apollo is identified with the Hellenistic Helios described as a god in 64 Similarly, in PGM VI 30–31 and 36–8 five Homeric lines about Apollo (Il. 1.37–41) have been pasted into the composition. For ἐπίρροθος cf. also the epic form ἐπιτάρροθος, especially used by Homer (e.g. Il. 11.366, 17.339). 65 For laurel as prophetic plant sacred to Apollo, see HERMANN, Daphne; AMANDRY, Mantique apollinienne, 126–34; PARKE/WORMELL, Delphic Oracle, 3, 26, 30–31; PARKE, Greek Oracles, 75–6; FONTENROSE, Delphic Oracle, 224–5; FONTENROSE, Didyma, 55–6, 82–3,108–9; JOHNSTON, Greek Divination, 42–3, 50, 88, and 154–5 for the treatment of Daphne in these spells; GRAF, Apollo, 67. 66 Cf. P. Oxy. 1011.218–80; DORNSEIFF, Das Alphabet, 69. 67 E.g. Apollo is called Ieios, ‘invoked with the cry ἰή’, and Paian (originally a physician of the gods, Paian, ‘healer’, ‘saviour’, became a typical epithet of Apollo, see e.g. VON BLUMENTHAL, Paian; GRAF, Apollo, 81–4; RUTHERFORD, Pindar’s Paeans, 10–17), and the refrain ἰὴ Παιάν was characteristic of cultic hymns to Apollo (see e.g. FURLEY/BREMER, Greek Hymns I, 84–91; RUTHERFORD, Pindar’s Paeans, 18–25). This section even refers to the oracle of Apollo Klarios which was situated in the territory of Kolophon, Ionia, see e.g. PARKE, Oracles of Apollo, 112–70, 219–24; JOHNSTON, Greek Divination, 76–82; FARAONE, Collapse, 222; MERKELBACH/STAUBER, Orakel, for the corpus of the oracles; SFAMENI GASPARRO, Oracoli profeti sibille, 54–6; VÁRHELYI, Magic. On the relation between traditional divination and PGM see HOPFNER, Offenbarungszauber II.1, 96–114, 312–17.
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armour riding the sun’s chariot.68 This hymn is immediately followed by a nonmetrical section, which keeps praising a solar god but this time in Egyptian terms: ...you who are seated upon the lotus and who light up the whole inhabited world; you who have designated the various living things upon the earth, you who have the sacred bird upon your robe in the eastern parts of the Red Sea, even as you have upon the northern parts the figure of an infant child seated upon a lotus, O rising one, O you of many names, SESENGENBARPHARANGĒS; on the southern parts you have the shape of the sacred falcon, through which you send fiery heat into the air, which becomes LERTHEXANAX; in the parts toward the west you have the shape of a crocodile, with the tail of a snake, from which you send out rains and snows; in the parts toward the east you have [the form of] a winged serpent...
Even if some epithets may have a different cultural origin (such as ‘you who have the sacred bird upon your robe in the eastern part of the Red Sea’), the insistence on the image of the infant child sitting upon the lotus flower,69 and especially on the different manifestations of the sun-god in the different cardinal points,70 leaves no doubt this section fits an Egyptian background. The basic animal forms of the god listed here belong to the Egyptian religious fauna and appear in another passage of the PGM among the twelve animal forms in which the solar god can manifest himself according to the twelve hours of the day/night, representing also the Egyptian zodiac.71 68 Nevertheless, considering that Apollo and Helios began to be assimilated as early as the fifth century BCE, as a whole the nature of the god invoked in this section cannot be said to lie outside Greek religious tradition, see JESSEN, Helios, especially 75–6; GRAF, Apollon (NP), 867; GRAF, Apollo, 145–53; BOYANCÉ, Apollon solaire. The first certain attestation appears in Eur. Phaeth. 224– 6 (DIGGLE, Euripides, 147–8 ad loc.). 69 Typical manifestation of Egyptian solar gods in their child-form representing both the sun at dawn and the primeval birth of the sun at the beginning of time; see SAUNERON/YOYOTTE, Naissance du monde, 54–9; WEIDNER, Lotos, 106–13, 117–20; RYHINER, L’offrande du lotus. Cf. ZIVIECOCHE, Ogdoade (I), and especially 190–91, 199–200; BUDDE, Harpare-pa-chered, 47–50. 70 On the Egyptian gods’ ability to manifest themselves in different forms (or different deities) see e.g. HORNUNG, Conceptions, especially 113–28, 185–96, 217–26; PIANKOFF, Litany, 5, 10–19; GRIFFITHS, Motivation; PFEIFFER, Entsprechung, especially 288–9. On the importance of the number four as symbolic of the four cardinal points and four regions of the universe, and thus as a symbol of the perfection, completeness of the cosmos, see SETHE, Von Zahlen, 31–2; DE WIT, Génies, 35–9; RAVEN, Egyptian concepts; cf. GOYON, Nombre et univers, 58–60. 71 PGM IV 1596–716, cf. PGM III 494–611 (now PGM III.1, see LOVE, ‘PGM III’ Archive), see MERKELBACH/TOTTI (eds.), Abrasax I, 104–7, II, 2–8; BOLL, Der ostasiatische Tierzyklus; GUNDEL, Neue astrologische Texte, 229–35; especially on the twelve manifestations of the solar deity see e.g. GASSE, Litanie; ASSMANN, Hymnen und Gebete, no. 144B, cf. nos. 1–12; cf. PIANKOFF, Litany, e.g. papyrus of Ta-Udja-Re, 84–97, 147–57; already in BoD, cf. BRUGSCH, Kapitel der Verwandlungen. On the connection of the number four and the four cardinal points with the zodiac see HÜBNER, Eigenschaften der Tierkreiszeichen, especially 441–52; HÜBNER, Zum Planetenfragment; interestingly enough, considering the standard order in which the animals are listed (Cat, Dog, Snake, Scarab, Donkey, Lion, Ram, Bull, Falcon, Baboon, Ibis, Crocodile), the snake, the falcon and the crocodile that appear in our papyrus occupy the third, ninth and twelfth position respectively, corresponding to three of the four points in which the zodiac can be divided into four sections according to the celestial cardinal points; the only exception is the ‘child seated upon a lotus’ which seems to be used in place of the lion (which normally occupies the sixth position). The basic animal forms listed by our spell can also be found together in the iconography of Egyptian polymorphic deities, see e.g. SAUNERON,
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In conclusion, the alternative spell PGM II 64–183 helps to clarify the identification between Apollo and the Headless god observed in the dream oracle PGM VI 1–47+II 1–64: even if not openly stated, the dream oracle must imply the identification ApolloHelios-Egyptian solar god, which in its turn allows Apollo to be conceived as the counterpart of a form of Osiris, the Headless god. Therefore, even if the Apollo and Daphne addressed in the metrical invocation conform to Greek religious tradition, in this dream oracle as a whole the divine persona of the main deity presents both Greek and Egyptian traits. In particular, one of the most interesting features of this last dream oracle is the strong connection between Apollo and Daphne/laurel, which reflects traditional Apollonian divination. We know for example that the Delphic Pythia was thought to chew laurel leaves as part of her preparatory rituals, possibly in order to go into a trance, and to shake a laurel plant or laurel branches during the revelation. Both laurel wreaths and branches were also worn and carried by consultants of the oracle,72 and the Cumaean Sibyl was supposed to use leaves to write her responses.73 Since the use of laurel in divinatory context is a typical Greek feature, it seems worth checking which other dream oracles employ laurel as part of the ritual, regardless of the mention of the god Apollo (see Table II). Not surprisingly, laurel is generally not used in those dream oracles that display Egyptian elements, with the exception of PGM VI 1–47+II 1–64 and the two spells addressed to Hermes/Thoth in PGM V 370–439 and PDM lxi 63–78 (since the other spell addressed to Hermes in VII 664–85 seems to be just a very simplified version of PGM V 370–439, it may have also originally prescribed the use of laurel). Other ritual features that are worth analysing, since they can easily be traced back to a specific cultural tradition, are for example the use of bricks or the reference to the four cardinal points. We know that in Egyptian tradition bricks were used mainly with protective function in various contexts and especially in connection with the four cardinal points that, together with the four regions of the universe, played an important role in symbolizing perfection, the completeness of the cosmos.74 For example, four bricks were used in temple foundation ceremonies and Chapter 151 of the Book of the Dead deals with the preparation of the four unbaked bricks that are often found in the burial chambers of the New Kingdom in correspondence with the four cardinal points. These bricks can also bear apotropaic inscriptions that refer to the flame or the light as means of destruction against enemies.75 Moreover, mothers giving birth squatted on the four birth bricks personified by Meskhenet, goddess of childbirth, who partly determined the fate of the new born, and Meskhenet, represented as a brick with a womNouveau sphinx; SAUNERON, Papyrus magique; QUAEGEBEUR, Divinités égyptiennes; KAPER, Tutu, especially 79–104; TOTTI, Traumgott, suggested that this particular iconography, paralleled in PGM XII 87–93 and on the gem of the British Museum 56109 (G 109), could originate in the composite iconography of the polymorphic god Tutu (the hypothesis does not seem particularly convincing even if, given the solar nature of Tutu, a connection is possible). 72 See above n. 65. 73 Verg. Aen. 3.443–52, 6.74; Phleg. Mir. 10.520. 74 See above n. 70. 75 MONNET, Briques magiques; ROTH/ROEHRIG, Magical Bricks, 121–9; RÉGEN, When the Book.
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an’s head, can appear in the ceremony of the weighing of the heart.76 At the same time, the appeal to the cardinal points, and different deities in connection with them, is frequent in rites that are felt as having a sort of ‘universal’ implication,77 such as the ritual of the Opening of the Mouth or the ritual of the Mysteries of the Four Pellets aimed at the protection of Osiris.78 If we look at the dream oracles, we will see that bricks and cardinal points tend to be present in those spells that are already rich in other Egyptian elements (see Table III). The general impression from this preliminary analysis is that we can distinguish two main traditions underlying the dream oracles: one stemming from an Egyptian background in connection with lamp divination rituals and the other stemming from a Greek background in connection with the popularity of Apollonian divination (see Table III). The only cases in which the two are combined are PGM VI 1–47+II 1–64 and three spells in which Hermes/Thoth appears (PGM V 370–439, VII 664–85 and PDM lxi 63–78). Interestingly enough, the ‘Egyptian’ spells seem somehow to connect the idea of dreaming with the Underworld, since the deities addressed are all deities that in one way or the other are supposed to travel or have a role in the Netherworld (Osiris, or the Headless god, Thoth, Seth, Egyptian solar deities). The only exceptions would seem to be Asklepios/Imhotep and Bes. However, Imhotep, having been the vizier of Djoser and thus a real historical person, was actually dead, and after his deification was often associated with Thoth as god of wisdom and medicine. As far as Bes is concerned, apart from the solar traits this deity acquired starting especially from the Third Intermediate Period (also thanks to his identification with Horus the child),79 it has to be remembered that the invocations of the dream oracles that mention this deity in their titles actually address the Headless god and, in one case, also Helios as Egyptian solar deity. On the other hand, in the ‘Greek’ spells this connection with the Underworld is not so conspicuous owing to the presence of Apollo and Daphne or generic ‘lords’, ‘gods’. Even more interestingly, the great tradition of the Greek incubation oracles, especially of Asklepios at Epidauros and Pergamon,80 does not seem to have reached the PGM’s dream oracles within its original Greek background. In fact, in the only case in which Asklepios appears (PGM VII 628–42), the spell not only feels the necessity to specify 76 BoD Ch. 125: when the deceased arrives in the Netherworld, his heart is put on a scale by the god Thoth and counterweighed by the plume symbol of Maat (see above n. 50): the heart must not weigh more than Maat, otherwise it will be impossible for the deceased to live his eternal life and he will undergo the ‘second death’, i.e. total cancellation from existence. On Meskhenet and her representation as a brick with a woman’s head in these scenes see SEEBER, Untersuchungen, 83–8. 77 ROTH/ROEHRIG, Magical Bricks, especially 129–37; RAVEN, Egyptian Concepts. 78 OTTO, Mundöffnungsritual; GOYON, Textes mythologiques (a ritual in which four clay spheres have to be thrown towards the four cardinal points, cf. ZIEGLER, À propos du rite). 79 E.g. WOLFF, Kultische Rolle; DASEN, Dwarfs, especially 49–50; KÁKOSY, Bemerkungen; KÁKOSY, Statues guérisseuses; STERNBERG-EL HOTABI, Untersuchungen, especially 8–19. See also above n. 37. 80 See e.g. COX MILLER, Dreams, 33, 106–17, 184–204; SFAMENI GASPARRO, Oracoli profeti sibille, 33–53, 203–53; JOHNSTON, Greek Divination, 90–96; GRAF, Apollo, 94–100; WICKKISER, Asklepios, especially 35–41; LEHMANN (ed.), Wunderheilungen, especially 29–31, 43–9; DUNAND, Consultation oraculaire, 71–2; and now RENBERG, Where Dreams May Come.
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that it is the Asklepios worshipped in Memphis, i.e. Imhotep, but also does not present any specifically Greek feature. Instead of Greek incubation, we find Apollonian divination (also alluded to through the use of laurel), as if the dream oracles were perceived as a private, home, version of the oracular consultation at the great Apollonian sanctuaries in Greece and Asia Minor. At the same time, the connection with Demotic lamp divination spells shown by the more ‘Egyptian’ dream oracles seems to be in line with the examples of PDM xiv 117–49 and 150–231, where the dream oracle is offered as an alternative to lamp divination, as if the two magical practices were not perceived as particularly different. The other interesting feature is that, especially when there are enough elements to analyse, the nature of the deities invoked seems to be consistent with the other culturally traceable features. The apparent exceptions being again PGM VI 1–47+II 1–64 and three of the spells in which Hermes/Thoth appears (PGM V 370–439, VII 664–85 and PDM lxi 63–78). However, in the first case, we find a plurality of elements but it is hard to talk about real fusion between divine personas. In fact, the invocation is mostly consistent in describing Apollo and Daphne according to Greek tradition, while the ‘Egyptian’ side of the main deity is revealed only in the ritual part of the spell. The underlying conception clearly implies that Apollo, the Egyptian solar god, Osiris and thus the Headless god are identified, but in the dream oracle this identification is achieved juxtaposing an Apollonian recitation rich in Greek elements to a ritual that displays the Egyptian background of the deity invoked. 81 Therefore, this dream oracle certainly testifies to an effort to combine the two main traditions but, as far as divine personas are concerned, it remains difficult to talk about actual fusion. Anyhow, this kind of attitude would seem to represent an exception since the other two cases in which a divine persona presents Greek and Egyptian elements (the two dream oracles of Hermes PGM V 370–439 and VII 664–85) are quite different. In fact, even if in the ritual or in the hymn to Hermes we can still distinguish the elements belonging to the Greek (Hermes) or to the Egyptian divine persona (Thoth), the divine features are presented as fused together. Such a fusion between deities does actually appear very rarely in the PGM and when it does it seems to be triggered by a preexistent superimposition of functions. Not by chance, Hermes and Thoth already shared many of their competences before any syncretistic attempt (such as the role of persuasive speakers, of heralds, and their connection with language or their role in the Underworld). 82 However, apart from the solar aspect, 83 the same cannot be said of Apollo and Egyptian solar deities. The general impression is that it is this pre-existent similarity between Hermes and Thoth that underlies the composition of these dream oracles with mixed elements and could also explain the appearance of laurel (a Greek element) in PDM lxi 63–78 addressed to the Egyptian Har-Thoth – the only dream 81
Similarly, in the alternative spell PGM II 64–183 discussed above Apollo-Helios is certainly identified with the Egyptian solar god but through a process of juxtaposition clearly shown in the invocation where the Egyptian praising section immediately follows the Greek hexametrical hymn. 82 DERCHAIN-URTEL, Thot, 136–46; FOWDEN, Egyptian Hermes; BOYLAN, Thoth; KERÉNYI, Hermes; BLEEKER, Hathor and Thoth, 106–50; KAHN, Hermès. 83 See above n. 68.
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oracle invoking an exclusively Egyptian divine persona in which this plant is used. These considerations seem to confirm both that the divine personas of the dream oracles are consistent with other culturally identifiable choices in the ritual, and that Greek and Egyptian traditions remain mostly separated. For they seem to meet only on those occasions in which either the divine persona invoked is already recognised as shared, and thus allows the addition of different cultural elements, or, as in the case of PGM VI 1–47+II 1–64, in some rare efforts which reach a stage of juxtaposition more than actual fusion. In conclusion, through this preliminary analysis, it seems possible to recognise two main traditions in the dream oracles of the PGM: one Egyptian and one Greek. Despite the various cultural influences, they seem to have preserved their original consistency and, though certainly displaying cultural plurality, they do not appear to represent actual fusion. Further research may confirm these preliminary results and establish whether this tendency applies only to the dream oracles or also to other magical procedures within the extant Graeco-Egyptian magical literature.
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TABLE I Egyptian elements
Greek elements
* Mixed elements
PGM/PDM
Lamp not red
Wick/Oil
IV 3172–208
X
X
V 370–439 V 440–58 VI 1–47+II 1–64 VII 222–49
X (compulsion)
X (compulsion)
(X?)
(X?)
VII 359–69
X
Deities addressed (I conjure you by the sleep releaser) Hermes
* * (Sarapis) Daphne (drawing of the *Apollo,god) Headless * Bes, Headless god Seth
VII 478–90
Eros
VII 628–42
Asklepios
VII 664–85
Hermes * * No specific divine
VII 703–26
VII 795–845
name (lords, gods) No specific divine name (lords, gods) Angel Zizaubio
VII 1009–16
Sabaoth, Michael, Raphael, Gabriel
VII 740–55
VIII 64–110
X
X
Bes, Helios, Headless god
XII 144–51
Hermes (son of Osiris and Isis)
PDM xiv 93–114
Solar deity
PDM xiv 117–49
X
X
(Osiris/)solar deity
PDM xiv 150–231
X
X
Osiris/solar deity
PDM lxi 63–78
Har-Thoth
PDM Suppl. 130–38 PDM Suppl. 149–62
Osiris, Isis, Nephthys (Horus) X
Thoth
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TABLE II
IV 3172–208 V 370–439
X
X
Laurel
*
X 28 laurel leaves have to be pounded together with other ingredients to make a dough for shaping a Hermes figurine
V 440–58
VI 1–47+II 1–64
VII 222–49 VII 359–69 VII 478–90 VII 628–42 VII 664–85 VII 703–26 VII 740–55 VII 795–845
X A spray of olive and laurel twigs have to be held by the magician and waved towards the lamp X
X
(X?)
(X?) X
PDM Suppl. 130–38 PDM Suppl. 149–62
*
*
X Hymn to Daphne-laurel; voces magicae written on laurel branches that the magician has to both wear as a wreath and hold in his hand while speaking the recitation
(X? Cf. the parallel version in V 370-439)
X Laurel leaves inscribed with signs of the zodiac (‘crown yourself with them’); laurel leaf inscribed with a magical name; laurel leaves to be put under the head of the magician X Inscribed laurel leaves to be placed near the head of the magician
VII 1009–16
VIII 64–110 XII 144–51 PDM xiv 93–114 PDM xiv 117–49 PDM xiv 150–231 PDM lxi 63–78
* Mixed elements
Deities
PGM/PDM
Wick/ Oil
Greek elements Lamp not red
Egyptian elements
X
X
X X
X X X Inscribed laurel leaf: the magician has to speak to it and then to put it under his head X
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TABLE III
X
V 370–439 V 440–58 VI 1–47+II 1–64
VII 222–49
X (comp.)
X (comp.)
(X?)
(X?)
VII 359–69
X
(I conjure you by the sleep releaser) Hermes
*(Sarapis) * *Apollo,ofDaphne (drawing the Headless god) * Bes, Headless god Eros
VII 628–42
Asklepios
*Hermes*
VII 703–26
No specific divine name (lords, gods) No specific divine name (lords, gods) Angel Zizaubio
VII 740–55 VII 795–845 VII 1009–16 VIII 64–110
X
X
XII 144–51 PDM xiv 93–114
Sabaoth, Michael, Raphael, Gabriel Bes, Helios, Headless god Hermes (son of Osiris and Isis) Solar deity
PDM xiv 117–49
X
X
(Osiris/)solar deity
PDM xiv 150–231
X
X
Osiris/solar deity
PDM lxi 63–78
Har-Thoth
PDM Suppl. 130– 38 PDM Suppl. 149– 62
Osiris, Isis, Nephthys (Horus) Thoth
X
X X X X
(X?)
Seth
VII 478–90 VII 664–85
Cardinal points
X
Deities addressed
Bricks
IV 3172–208
* Mixed elements Laurel
PGM/PDM
Wick /Oil
Greek elements
Lamp not red
Egyptian elements
(X?)
X X X (unbaked)
X (four) X X X
Cultural Plurality in Greek Magical Recipes for Oracular and Protective Statues CHRISTOPHER A. FARAONE The Greek magical papyri, especially the longer handbooks from Upper Egypt, sometimes reflect Greek, Egyptian and Jewish traditions, and if we use these longer handbooks as a model for how magic was practiced throughout the Roman Empire, one gets the impression that Graeco-Roman magic was created, transmitted and ultimately used in an environment that was culturally pluralistic or multicultural.1 I have in the past, however, argued against naïvely using the Theban handbooks as typical, because they seem to be a special case that indeed gives us a rich source of detailed evidence, but only for an isolated pocket of local and elite Egyptian practice.2 In this essay I will extend this argument by discussing recipes from the Theban handbooks for statuettes and engraved gems used as oracles or as protective amulets for houses or shops and then by comparing them with descriptions of similar objects in contemporary or even earlier lapidary handbooks or literary sources. My conclusions can be briefly stated: these long recipes from the Theban papyri do at some points re-frame or translate a well-known image from one cultural tradition, so that it appeals to people from other traditions, but this is often done in superficial ways or with coded or hidden scripts known only to the creator of the image. The added material, moreover, is usually not from a different cultural tradition (e.g. Jewish or Egyptian), but rather from a repertoire of nonsensical ‘magical’ names that seem to have been created and popularised by professional magicians primarily for purposes of mystification. Comparison with recipes from non-magical handbooks will reveal, moreover, that other traditions for creating such images outside of Egypt show even fewer signs of pluralism.
1
There seem to be two different definitions of ‘cultural pluralism’. Originally it referred more narrowly to the idea that different (minority) groups in society can keep their distinctive cultures, while coexisting peacefully with a dominant group, for example, the case of Jews and Moslems living under Christian rule. This narrower definition, if applied to the PGM, would presumably involve discussing how the recipes reflect life under Roman rule, something that is nearly invisible in the PGM, except for the language in a handful of necromantic recipes that seems to have been coded to avoid detection by the Roman authorities; see FARAONE, Collapse. The term is commonly used more broadly, however, – as I use it in this essay – to refer to a society marked by the peaceful coexistence of more than one distinct ethnic or religious groups. But in either interpretation the term ‘cultural pluralism’ is not unproblematic; see GR. WOOLF, Isis. 2 FARAONE, Handbooks; FARAONE, Problem of Dense Data-Sets, 106–8.
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1. Oracular images of Apollo and Sarapis In an article published many years ago J.Z. SMITH praised the magical papyri as ‘one of the largest collections of functioning ritual texts … produced by religious specialists that has survived from late antiquity’.3 He stressed, moreover, that among these recipes one occasionally finds miniature versions of civic and even panhellenic cult.4 Perhaps his best example of this phenomenon is a section of a fragmentary recipe for a ‘Rite for foreknowledge’:5 The preparation of the operation: Set up a self-revealing6 tripod and a table of olive wood or laurel wood and on the table carve in a circle these symbols [8 symbols]. Cover the tripod with clean linen and place a censer on the tripod. It is advantageous to place on the table a [holl]ow-[bot]tomed Apollo hewn of laurel wood. Engrave on a [tablet] of gold, silver or tin these symbols [11 symbols]. Place the tablet under the censer, near the carved image (xoanon) that was set up [at the same time as the] censer, and place next to the tripod a beaker or shell containing pu[re] water. In the center of the shrine (oikos) surrounding the tripod inscribe on the floor with a white stylus the symbol below.7 It is necessary to keep yourself pure for three days in advance. The shrine and the [tripod] must be covered. [If] you wish [to see], look inside, wearing clean w[hite] garments and [crow]ned with a cro[wn] of laurel … before the invocation sacrifice laurel to him … [during the] sacrifice honor the god with paeans.
This text is damaged, but we can see that it directs the reader to create a miniature shrine, which includes a tripod and a xoanon of Apollo carved from laurel wood. It also seems to describe a ritual of vegetable sacrifice and paeans. As J.Z. SMITH and others have noted, the tripod, the laurel and other details suggest strongly that this is a statue of the Delphic or Pythian Apollo,8 but neither epithet appears in the recipe. On the other hand, other oracular spells in the Theban handbooks do refer to Apollo’s other famous oracles in Asia Minor, Didyma and Klaros, which from the Hadri-
3 J.Z. SMITH, Trading Places, 21, cf. also 23: ‘Of all the documents of late antiquity I know of none more filled with the general and technical vocabulary and the praxis of sacrifice, than those texts collected by modern scholars under the title Greek Magical Papyri.’ 4 J.Z. SMITH, Trading Places, 24–6 lists eight examples, suggesting that they are either miniature forms of life-sized temples or normal-sized naiskoi (household shrines) like those found in Pompeii and elsewhere; he cites GRAF, Prayer, 195–6 for the latter idea. 5 PGM III 292–310 (now PGM III.2); trans. W.C. GRESE with some changes. I follow W.C. GRESE’s interpretation in GMPT of the lacunose lines 305–10. According to the new findings by LOVE, ‘PGM III’ Archive, this recipe ends at the end of column XI of PGM III.2 (corresponding to the end of the recto) since the following column XII (beginning of the verso) was written at a later stage by a different scribe. For a detailed discussion of this recipe and two similar Apolline spells see FARAONE, Collapse. 6 Both PGM and GMPT interpret this word autoptos as an additional rubric ‘for a direct vision’ and indeed we find autoptos used in this way, e.g. PGM VII 727: ‘direct vision (autoptos) of Apollo’. Here, however, the word is in the accusative and must modify ‘tripod’; see MUÑOZ DELGADO, Léxico, s.v. 7 The promised symbol does not appear at the end of the recipe. 8 For such details of the Delphic cult, see FONTENROSE, Delphic Oracle, 224–6.
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anic period onward had in fact eclipsed the Delphic sanctuary in importance.9 This recipe, moreover, seems to mimic two aspects of Apollonian mantic cult that are, to my knowledge, attested especially at Didyma, where the priestess fasts for three days, as is required by the recipe, and a chorus sings hymns to Apollo to encourage his arrival at the sanctuary – in the Theban recipe, the practitioner ends the ritual by singing paeans to Apollo.10 We might expect, at any rate, that the apparatus described in this recipe will be used in order to get a spoken oracle from Apollo, as one would expect at Delphi or Didyma, but the instruction near the end of the recipe to ‘look inside’ the covered shrine, as well as the description of the tripod as ‘self-revealing’, suggests a visual appearance of the god, perhaps – as we will see from the evidence presented below – by falling asleep near the statue and dreaming of an encounter with him, as was commonplace in sanctuaries of Asklepios or Sarapis. Aside from the strange symbols inscribed on the table and traced on the floor with a stylus (those on the metal tablet are hidden under the incense burner), anyone viewing this tableau would think it was entirely Greek. We can, perhaps, get a sense of the original Greek domestic ritual lying behind this PGM recipe from a brief description that Tacitus gives of the trial and conviction in 49 CE of a Roman noblewoman named Lollia Paulina, who nearly became empress:11 In the same consulship, Agrippina – fierce in her hatreds and infuriated with Lollia because she had competed with her for the emperor’s hand – arranged for her prosecution and a prosecutor, who was to raise the issue of Chaldaeans, magicians, and an image (simulacrum) of the Klarian Apollo questioned about the sovereign’s marriage.
9
EITREM, Orakel, 47–52 and PARKE, Oracles of Apollo, 69–92 and 125–70. On the decline of Delphi, see AHL, Apollo, 114–16. 10 Moreover, just before the recipe for the shrine (290), the text seems to describe Apollo as ‘pliable because of these songs and psalms’. At Didyma there is a specific and close connection between a hymn sung to the god and his oracular response. In a late-imperial oracle from Didyma, Apollo addresses the Melesians and orders them ‘to sing a hymn in my sanctuaries, as before, just when the axon was about [to reveal] a word from the innermost shrine. I rejoice over every song … but chiefly if it is old’. We do not know precisely what the axon is, but it is clearly an apparatus (like the Delphic tripod) that was set up in the inner sanctum at Didyma. Here, as PARKE, Oracles of Apollo, 101–3 notes, the hymn seems to replace or be valued above the usual sacrificial rituals at other oracles – in other words, without the hymn, there will be no inspired oracle. The purificatory fasting of the priestess and the singing of hymns to receive Apollo at his oracular sanctuary are attested also at Delphi, the best evidence for the latter feature being the hymns sung at the Athenian Pythais, an irregular Athenian festival which involved a pilgrimage to Delphi, hymn-singing and consultation of the Delphic oracle, see e.g. the two hymns by Limenius and Athenaios (?) in FURLEY/BREMER, Greek Hymns I, 129–38, II, 84–100. In the other PGM spells that involve the construction of miniature oracular shrines, e.g. PGM II 64–183, the practitioner dresses like a prophet with an appropriate robe and laurel wreath, shakes a laurel bough and sings a hexametrical hymn to attract the god: ‘Ie ie famous Paean (=Apollo), dwelling in Kolophon (= Klaros), heed my sacred song (aoide) and come quickly to earth from heaven and join me. Stand near me and from your ambrosial mouth breathe songs into me (aoidas empneuson). You yourself, lord of song (molpes), come, famous ruler of song… Stand near and from your ambrosial mouth speak (ennepe) quickly your oracular power (mantosyne) to me, who am your suppliant, all-pure Apollo’. 11 Tac. Ann. 12.22.
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The terse formulation here suggests that Tacitus has summarised three parts of the indictment against Lollia: that in her desire to know the future she consulted astrologers and wizards and also questioned an image of the Klarian Apollo. For the last charge some have argued that Lollia was accused of sending emissaries to the sanctuary of Apollo at Klaros in Asia Minor. Indeed, a handful of modern historians – including SYME himself – even tried to get rid of the inconvenient word ‘statue’ (simulacrum) by emending it to ‘oracle’ (oraculum).12 H.W. PARKE, however, from his special vantage point as an historian of Greek oracles, rightly observed that there is no evidence for pilgrims interrogating the statue of Apollo at Klaros; oracular requests were, in fact, given directly to a prophet, who then disappeared into an underground chamber and never approached the statue of the god. PARKE suggested, in fact, that the mention of the simulacrum here in the same breath as wizards and astrologers points to some kind of private ceremony performed secretly with a domestic version of the Clarian statue, although he did not cite as a parallel the PGM recipe quoted at the start of this section.13 Lollia, according to this view, was successfully prosecuted on the charge that she sought out prophecies from astrologers, magicians and a statue of Apollo Klarios, consultations that could all have easily taken place in the privacy of her home. The question arises immediately, of course: how did Lollia get answers to her inquiries? It is impossible, of course, that the statue actually spoke to her, but we find precisely such a claim about an even smaller image of Apollo in Lucian’s dialogue Lover of Lies, where a superstitious and wealthy Corinthian named Eucrates remarks to a skeptical interlocutor: 14 What is your opinion about that sort of thing – I mean oracles, prophecies…. Of course you doubt that sort of thing also? For my own part, I say nothing of the fact that I have a holy ring with an image of Pythian Apollo engraved on the seal, and that this Apollo speaks to me.
The context here, at least at first glance, suggests strongly that the tiny image on the ring gives oral prophecies directly to Eucrates. We can summarise these three descriptions or reports of images of Apollo as follows:
12
The reading oraculum is a conjecture of ANDRESEN championed by SYME, Tacitus II, 479, and printed by KÖSTERMANN, Annalen. This change is defended by the alleged practice of sending messages to the oracle – a practice known only from Ovid’s passing reference in the revised dedication to his Fasti, which he likens to a ‘message sent for the Clarian god to read’. WELLESLEY, Cornelii Taciti, prints simulacrum. 13 PARKE, Oracles of Apollo, 141 with note 24. 14 Ps.-Luc. Philops. 26. The manuscripts are slightly confused as to whether the ring or the seal of the ring is engraved, but the meaning is the same.
Cultural Plurality in Greek Magical Recipes for Oracular and Protective Statues
PGM recipe
God Apollo with tripod
Image laurel wood statuette
Purpose vision(?)
Owner (N/A)
Lollia (Tacitus)
Apollo Klarios
statuette in house
was asked questions
Roman noblewoman
Eucrates (Lucian)
Pythian Apollo
finger ring with image
speaks oracles
wealthy Corinthian
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As was mentioned earlier, it is unclear how the prophetic practices at Delphi and Klaros are replicated in the rituals associated with these miniature images. In the last two examples, at least, the owner apparently hears the divine answers or receives spoken oracles from the statues themselves, whereas at the panhellenic oracles, such speech was instead generated by human intermediaries: the Pythia at Delphi and the prophet at Klaros. A better explanation is, however, hinted at in a second PGM recipe: 15 On a jasper-like agate engrave Sarapis seated, facing forwards, holding an Egyptian royal scepter and on the scepter an ibis, and on the back of the stone inscribe the name and keep it shut up. When the need arises hold the ring in your left hand and in your right a spray of olive and laurel, waving them toward the lamp while saying the spell 7 times. Then you put it (i.e. the ring) on the index finger of your left hand with the stone facing inwards, and thus, while pressing the stone to your left ear, go to sleep without speaking to anyone.
Both the ‘spell’ to be spoken at the consecration of the ring and the ‘name’ to be inscribed on the reverse of the gem appear not to have been preserved,16 but the command regarding the latter to ‘keep it shut up’ (i.e. in the setting of the ring) suggests secrecy. The image described here of Sarapis enthroned with his sceptre and ibis is, in fact, popular on magical gems of the Imperial Period, which show the bearded god with long hair, dressed in Greek clothes and wearing on his head the god’s standard emblem, a basket called the kalathos (Pl. I, Fig. 1). He sits, moreover, on a highbacked Greek-style throne holding a sceptre in his left hand and stretching his right hand over the three heads of Kerberos.17 This type appears on a wide range of media, some with inscriptions such as ‘Protect!’ or other protective images on the reverse.18 15
PGM V 447–58. Anyhow, according to new research by LJUBA M. BORTOLANI (to appear in BORTOLANI/NAGEL, Divination Rituals), the seemingly missing spell (and possibly also the name) actually appears at lines 440–46. Confusion arises because these lines were considered by PREISENDANZ and BETZ’s editions as the final part of the previous spell (PGM V 370–446). 17 A reproduction, some scholars think, of an important cult statue in Alexandria. VEYMIERS, Sérapis, 59–66 is cautious, however, and after a full review of the evidence suggests that, because both sitting and standing statues appear on Alexandrian coins, they were both probably cult statues in the city albeit at different sanctuaries. There is less agreement about two other facts that do not affect my argument: whether the seated statue was the famous one created by Bryaxis and whether it was commissioned by Alexander the Great, when he founded Alexandria, or by Ptolemy Soter. 18 VEYMIERS, Sérapis, 284–8 nos. II.AB.1–38. Those with Greek inscriptions on the reverse appear on a variety of stones, e.g. nos. 2 (green glass with ‘charis’); 12 (hematite with magical name); 13 (lapis with long logos); 17 (opal with Harpokrates on the reverse and names); 27 (agate with 16
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Another similar type introduces important changes:19 a scorpion sometimes replaces Kerberos, a crocodile lies beneath the throne and an ibis sometimes perches on top of the god’s sceptre.20 The detail of the ibis on the sceptre suggests that this second type is the one known to the author of the recipe under discussion. All these gems seem to imitate the god’s famous cult statue in Alexandria, where the sick often went, as they did to the sanctuaries of Asklepios, in the hope of getting a dream from the god that would in some way lead to healing. In the better attested dreams at Asklepios sanctuaries the god is either seen in the dream performing medical procedures on the dreamer or gives him audible advice in the dream about what treatment or diet to undergo when he wakes up.21 It is usually the case that before going the patient prayed to the divinity to send him a dream in his sleep. The PGM recipe tells us to carve onto a gem a miniature version of this same image of Sarapis and then go to sleep with the gem pressed to our ear, but it does not say precisely what the gem was used for. But since this recipe follows another recipe for dreamincubation – one using a wax image of Hermes, the conductor of dreams – and since we know that similar rituals took place in Sarapis sanctuaries, it is entirely probable that the PGM ring was also used for dream incubation and the placement of the ring at the ear suggests that spoken advice in a dream, rather than a vision, was expected. Using this PGM recipe as a model, moreover, I also suggest that Eucrates’ ring, and perhaps also the Apolline image of Lollia, were used in a similar manner in order that Apollo might speak to them as they sleep and give them oracular predictions or advice.22 And we now have a better understanding, finally, of the text from which we started: the PGM recipe for constructing a miniature sanctuary of Apollo. I suggest that this statue, too, was also the focus of a dream incubation ritual, during which one might indeed see Apollo and get answers to questions posed before going to sleep. We need not be surprised, of course, that worshippers of Apollo might use this dream technique associated with his son Asklepios, for the father and son were sometimes worshipped together and closely aligned in the Greek mind.23 How, then, do these two PGM recipes reflect the cultural pluralism of the Eastern Mediterranean basin? We saw how the first recipe (for the wooden Apollo) told us to add strange symbols to an otherwise familiar Greek sanctuary scene (including the singing of traditional Greek hymns). The deeply Hellenised gemstone image of the seated Sarapis, on the other hand, was itself a Greek or Macedonian invention of the Ptolemaic Period, but the handbook clearly does add at least two Egyptian features not ‘protect!’ on obverse and Pantheos and a magical logos on back); 32 (agate with added stars and crescent moon on obverse and a logos on back). 19 BONNER, SMA, 235–7 and VEYMIERS, Sérapis, 289–93 nos. II.E.1–16. 20 Scorpion: of the 16 collected by VEYMIERS, Sérapis, all have the scorpion, except three (II.E.4, 10, 12) that have Kerberos. Ibis: of the 16 collected by VEYMIERS, Sérapis, the ibis appears alone on the sceptre five times (II.E.2, 6, 7, 14 and 16) and once on a kerykeion with rooster(?) (II.E.3). On one gem we find a kerykeion with two indistinct birds (II.E.5). 21 LIDONNICI, Miracle Inscriptions. 22 According to this interpretation, then, when Eucrates says ‘this Apollo speaks to me’ he means something like ‘and that the Apollo who speaks to me in my dreams is the one depicted on the ring’. 23 See FARAONE, Athenian Tradition.
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found on the original statue: the ‘Egyptian royal scepter’ and the ibis. We should also assume that both the missing ‘name’ to be hidden on the back of the gem and ‘spell’ to be spoken over it included nonsensical magical or even sensible Egyptian names,24 but like the miniature Apollo shrine, there would be very little visual evidence that this ring was inscribed with a secret name or even that it was used for dream incubation.
2. Domestic statues as amulets for protection and prosperity25 In an article published more than twenty years ago, FRITZ GRAF rightly suggested that some of the rituals prescribed by the Greek magical papyri differed little from the ‘small-scale ceremonies conducted by ordinary householders for their household gods’,26 and in this section we turn from oracular images of civic gods to protective domestic images, for example:27 Whenever you want a place to prosper greatly, so that those in the place or temple where the protective amulet (phylakterion) is hidden will marvel. For wherever this (i.e. the phylakterion) is placed, if in a temple, the temple will be talked about throughout the whole world; if in some other place, it will prosper greatly. This is its manufacture: taking Etruscan wax, mold a statue (andrias) three handbreadths high. Let it be three-headed. Let the middle head be that of a sea falcon, the right that of a baboon, and the left an ibis. Let it have four extended wings and its two arms stretched flat on its breast; in them the statue should hold a scepter. And let it be wrapped (i.e. as a mummy) like Osiris. Let the falcon wear the crown of Horus, the baboon the crown of Hermanubis, and the ibis the crown of Isis. Put into its (i.e. the statue’s) hollow a heart of magnetite and write the following names on a piece of hieratic papyrus and put it in the hollow (i.e. of the statue).
We are then told28 to place the statue in a ‘little temple’ (naiskarion) made of juniper wood and offer it worship: a holocaust sacrifice of a falcon(?)29 and a libation of milk, 24
Magical words are actually contained in lines 440–46, which may be identified as the ‘missing’ spell, see above n. 16. 25 The arguments presented in this section have appeared in more detailed form in FARAONE, Protective Statues. 26 GRAF, Prayer, 195. 27 PGM IV 3125–71. This translation depends on that of MO. SMITH, in: GMPT, ad loc. For interpretation, see MICHEL, (Re)interpreting, 144. 28 PGM IV 3145–54: ‘Next, when you have made an iron base, stand it (i.e. the statue) on the base and put it in a little juniper-wood shrine (naiskarion)… and having fixed it [firmly] in whatever place you choose, sacrifice to it a white-faced [falcon?] and burn [this offering] entire; also pour on it as a libation the milk of a black cow …. And now make feast for it. And now feast with the statue, chanting all night long to the statue the names written on the strip put in the hollow. Wreathe the little shrine with olive and thus throughout life. And incant the same spell when you get up in the morning before you open up [i.e. your shop or temple]’. 29 At line 3146 and earlier at line 2396 in the same papyrus (in another recipe for the consecration of a wax statuette) the text says to offer a sacrifice of a ‘wild (agrion) with a white face’, which some supplement as ‘wild [ass]’ or ‘wild [ram]’ (see HOCK’s note in GMPT on line 2396). Both cases, however, involve the consecration of small images within a home and I follow MO. SMITH (in GMPT, on line 3146) in restoring the word ‘falcon(?)’, especially given the parallel of the rooster sacrifice for the Mercury statuette discussed below.
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while ‘all night long chanting over the statue the names written on the strip put in the hollow’. The first part of this recipe, then, directs us to fashion in wax and then consecrate a statuette of a popular type of Egyptian god, whom modern scholars generally refer to as the Pantheos,30 a designation that I will continue to use as shorthand, although the god in question is at best polymorphic or polytheistic, but not pantheistic.31 This statuette is, in fact, a variant form of the Pantheos that has a mummiform body of Osiris (with his hands crossed on his chest) and three different animal heads, whereas the Pantheos more typically holds Egyptian staffs or flails in his outstretched hands and has a single frontal head (often of Bes) from the sides of which flora and fauna seem to grow. SIMONE MICHEL has shown, moreover, how this three-headed version of Pantheos was also produced in miniature on a hematite gem in the British Museum (Pl. I, Fig. 2a and b), which would have been worn as a pendant or in a ring, like the Apollo or Sarapis images discussed earlier.32 Hematite, of course, is a frequent medium for Greek amulets and, like the magnetite heart inserted into the wax statue, it is an ore of iron. The inscription on the back of the gem is also ‘miniaturised’, but in a different way: it is an abridged form of the longer magical text that was placed inside the wax statuette in the PGM recipe: Text on statue: BICHŌ BICHŌ BI CHŌBI BEU NASSOUNAINTHI NOUNAITH MOUR SOURPHEŌ MOURĒTH ANIMOKEŌ ARPAĒR SANI SOUMARTA AKERMORTHŌOUTH ANIMI MIMNOUĒR IERI ANIMI MIMNIMEU Text on gem: BICHŌ BICHŌ BEU BEU CHŌBI CHŌBI BEU SOUMARTA
The initial run of ‘names’ (BICHŌ BICHŌ BI CHŌBI) seems, in fact, to reflect an Egyptian name or epithet of the god Horus as the ‘Great Falcon’.33 At the very end of the recipe, after the consecration ritual and the list of names, we find a prayer to be recited each morning before opening the shop or temple for business: Give me all favor, all success, because the angel bringing good, who stands beside [i.e. the goddess] Tyche, is with you. Accordingly give profit and success to this house. Please, Aion, ruler of hope, giver of wealth, O holy Agathos Daimon, bring to fulfillment all favors and all of your divinely inspired speeches.
The recipe then ends with another boast about its power: ‘Then open [i.e. your shop or temple] and you will marvel at its unsurpassed holy power!’ From the middle of the first millennium BCE (the oldest object with several heads probably dating to the 26th Dynasty) onwards Egyptians placed images of the Pantheos
30
RITNER, in GMPT ad line 3135: ‘so-called pantheistic god’. QUACK, So-Called Pantheos. 32 MICHEL, (Re)interpreting, 144. The gem is MICHEL, Gemmen im Britischen Museum, no. 173 = BONNER, Amulets British Museum, no. 45; A. DELATTE/DERCHAIN, Intailles magiques, no. 285 shows a similar scene on the reverse, but without the voces magicae; the editors there also point out the parallel with the PGM recipe. 33 According to MICHEL, (Re)interpreting, 145 n. 21; however, according to J.F. QUACK, this is phonetically unlikely, since in a Greek transcription of the Egyptian word ‘falcon’, the vowel should be eta instead of iota. 31
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in their houses for protection,34 but the oral prayer just quoted assimilates this deity to a pair of Greek gods: Aion ‘the giver of wealth’ and Agathos Daimon, who was thought to bring good luck, and who was also set up in Greek houses.35 There is, in fact, a repeated overlap or confusion between protection and prosperity throughout this recipe that suggests its original protective purpose has been altered. We see it, for example, in the rubric itself, which first calls the wax statue a phylakterion, a word that usually indicates a protective amulet, but then tells us that the statuette will bring prosperity to different places. The gemstone version of the amulet, moreover, is probably a century or two earlier than the PGM recipe and it shows no sign of the additions or translations, such as we saw in the prayer to Aion and the Agathos Daimon. The shorter inscription on the gem has, moreover, a very simple form: the initial variations on Horus’ epithet ‘Great Falcon’ followed by the significant word SOUMARTA, which is, in fact, the traditional Greek rendering of the Phoenician afformative conjugation 2nd person sing. šmrt, ‘you shall protect’.36 This shorter and earlier version of the inscription suggests, in fact, that the much longer text in the PGM recipe had probably grown over the intervening two centuries in such a way as to occlude the originally protective focus of the recipe and the image. In fact, the single-headed version of the Pantheos appears frequently on gemstones of the Roman Period, and its function, when expressed, also seems mainly to have been protection, as, for example, on a Neolithic axe-head reused as an amulet in Roman Ephesos to protect a house from lightning (Pl. II, Fig. 3), as well as on a series of lapis lazuli, hematite and magnetite gems, where the god is surrounded by magical words and vowels and the generic command in Greek ‘protect (phulaxon) from evil!’ (Pl. II, Fig. 4).37 On these earlier and miniature versions of the Pantheos amulets, then, both image and text maintain their focus on protection; there is no talk of prosperity and no need to translate the image by adding the Greek names of Aion or Agathos Daimon to the invocation. The wax statue, on the other hand, is equated with these Greek gods and is additionally empowered by inserting into it a ‘heart of magnetite’, a stone that was used as an amulet by the Greeks to seduce and charm both
34
As far as images of Bes as such (or at least figures of his iconographic type) are concerned, this usage is already attested in the second millennium BCE. A new study on the Pantheos/polymorphic deities by THEIS, Pantheos, is in press. 35 Agathos Daimon, usually represented as a snake with the head of a bearded man (like Zeus or Sarapis) was a protector of houses and the guarantor of fertility in mainland Greece, especially Boeotia, and later became popular in Alexandria, Egypt; see DUNAND, Agathodaimon. He appears occasionally on magical gems in this guise, e.g. DUNAND, Agathodaimon, no. 24 (= A. DELATTE/DERCHAIN, Intailles magiques, 223) with the inscription: ‘Grace (charis) for the one who wears it’ or no. 26 where the inscription identifies him wrongly as ‘Chnoubis’. It is not at all clear who the ‘angel’ is; he is not being invoked, but rather imagined dwelling in the same place as Aion and Agathos Daimon, and perhaps also Tyche. 36 SCHMITZ, Reconsidering. 37 Argive thunderstone: see ILIFFE, Neolithic Celt, and FARAONE, Inscribed Greek Thunderstones, 261–3. Gemstones: there are at least one hundred extant gems of this type; see the list in MICHEL, Bilder und Zauberformeln, 316–21, many of which are inscribed on unusual stones, e.g. obsidian, steatite and serpentine.
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mortals and gods, if worn on the body.38 Here, perhaps, these same ‘magnetic’ properties were thought to ‘attract’ business to a shop or worshippers to a temple. Most of these non-Egyptian additions, finally, would have been hidden to the casual observer, who would see only the wax image in its juniper-wood shrine and thus be unaware of the inserted stone and text, as well as the daily morning prayer recited before the shop or temple was opened. We see a similarly secretive renaming of an image and expansion of its original power in a recipe for a wax statuette of Mercury from the same PGM handbook.39 A ‘productive’ spell: Take orange beeswax, the juice of the aeria plant, and ground ivy and mix them together and fashion a hollow-bottomed Hermes holding in his left hand a herald’s wand and in his right a small bag. Write on a hieratic papyrus these names and you will see unceasing [i.e. business]: CHAIŌCHEN OUTIBILMENOUŌTH ATRAUICH
Grant profit and production to this place, because PSENTEBĒTH lives here. Put the papyrus inside the figure and fill in the hole with the same beeswax. Then deposit it in a wall, unseen, and crown it on the outside. Make a libation of Egyptian wine and sacrifice to it a rooster and light for it a lamp that is not colored red.
This recipe recalls the previous one: a wax statue shaped in the form of a traditional domestic talisman, into which we are to insert a chit of hieratic papyrus inscribed with special words. Aside from the type of wine (Egyptian) and the nonsensical or nonGreek words inscribed on the papyrus (to which we will turn presently), there is little in this late-antique recipe that would have been unfamiliar a few centuries earlier to a person living in Rome, on the island of Delos or any other place where the Romans had colonised: a traditional Roman image of the god Mercury with his wand and purse set up in a house or shop.40 Scholars often point to the sack of coins that Mercury offers in his right hand and suppose, rightly, that these images, which first appear on the Italian peninsula in the second century BCE, are closely connected with prosperity, both as the focus of household and workshop cult and, more vaguely, as a kind of good luck charm or talisman, although, aside from our Paris handbook, no ancient text tells us this explicitly. 41 The recipe from PGM IV, however, never acknowledges that the wax statue in question is a traditional Roman image, but it identifies it as ‘Hermes’ instead of ‘Mercury’. The text that is to be inserted into the statue goes even farther to dissociate this image from its original cultural setting. As in the case of the text inserted into the wax Pantheos, we see a magical name (CHAIŌCHEN OUTIBILMENOUŌTH ATRAUICH), but this one is followed by a brief prayer (‘Grant profit and production…’). Such a request is, 38
Orph. Lith. 319–33 and Orph. Lith. Keryg. 10. PGM IV 2359–72. Trans. R.F. HOCK, in GMPT ad loc. with some changes. 40 SIMON/BAUCHHENSS, Mercurius, nos. 388–98. 41 LAFORGE, Religion privée, 89, for example, describes Mercury as ‘protecteur du commerce et de la prosperité de nombreuses tabernae … souvent représentés sur les facades des boutiques et ateliers’, and she suggests that his frequent appearance in domestic lararia may indicate that the owner of the house was a businessman. The derivation of the god’s name from Latin merx (‘commodity’) points to his original role as a god of commerce; much later he is identified with Hermes and Thoth: see LIPKA, Roman Gods, 68. 39
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of course, completely appropriate for an image of Mercury designed for a manufacturing shop, but it has not been noticed, I think, that the final section of this prayer (‘… because PSENTEBĒTH lives here!’) imitates the so-called Herakles Kallinikos inscriptions: ‘The son of Zeus, resplendent in victory, Herakles, lives here. Let no evil enter!’ These Kallinikos inscriptions first appear in Hellenistic Gela and by the Imperial Period they are found all over the Mediterranean.42 An incident narrated in a pseudepigraphic letter of Diogenes the Cynic underscores, moreover, the protective power of this inscription, when it describes how the philosopher, after seeing these verses inscribed on a house in the Greek city of Kyzikos, pestered a reluctant bystander with hostile questions:43 But why, he asked, if this practice profits you, do you not inscribe the same thing on the doors of the city, but rather on your houses, into which Herakles is unable to go (i.e. because of his great bulk)? Is it because you are willing to let the city suffer evilly, but not your individual households?
When the poor man admits he is unable to answer, Diogenes asks him what kind of evil he had imagined Herakles to ward off, to which he responds ‘disease, poverty, death, these sorts of things’. In practice, of course, the boast of Herakles’ presence probably refers to the small statues or paintings of Herakles that were commonly placed in Greek houses or shops.44 The papyrus chit to be secretly inserted into the wax statuette of Mercury, then, imitates the form of the Kallinikos inscriptions (‘Do X, because Y lives here!’), but names the supernatural occupant and guardian as PSEN-TE-BĒTH, a name constructed with the prefix typical of Egyptian personal names and possibly a distorted form of the Egyptian psen-te-bēkh meaning ‘son of the female falcon’.45 Here, then, as in the case of the Pantheos image, the author of this Theban recipe assimilates elements drawn from various cultural traditions: a popular iconography of Mercury, the protective function of Herakles in Greek households and the mysterious Egyptian sounding name PSENTEBĒTH. However, – as is also true of the Pantheos talisman – these potential nods towards cultural pluralism remain curiously secret, in fact doubly so, because they are hidden within the wax statue, which is itself buried in a wall. In this case, however, the secret name and hidden prayer do not alter the ultimate purpose of the statue: it remains a talisman for profit and production. Similar images of Mercury show up in abundance on Roman gemstones, most of them uninscribed, but a recipe from a lapidary handbook helps to explain their power:46 42
For a full bibliography, see WEINREICH, De Diogenis; ROBERT, Échec au mal; and MERKELWeg mit dir, especially his note 1 for a dozen or so examples from areas as far apart as Pompeii and Kurdistan. A Latin version, CIL III, 5561 (Felicitas hic habitat, nihil intret mali), and a parody during the reign of Commodus (Cass.Dio 72.20.3) both point to wide usage in the Roman Period. 43 Ps.-Diogenes, Epistulae 36 (ed. HERCHER, Epistolographi). A similar incident appears in Diog.Laer. 6.50. See WEINREICH, De Diogenis, 8–10 for commentary. 44 MERKELBACH, Weg mit dir. 45 See the note of RITNER, in GMPT, ad loc. 46 Orph. Lith. Keryg. 3.5–6. BACH,
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And in addition, it (i.e. the agate) provides prosperity (euporia) to those who carry it. Carve into the stone a standing Hermes holding a sack in his left hand and a book roll (biblion) in his right and at his feet a baboon stretching forth its hands as if praying.
This agate gemstone, then, can be transformed into a charm for prosperity (euporia) simply by engraving a miniature version of the Mercury image, but here with some even more pronounced Greek and Egyptian motifs: in this recipe Mercury is again called ‘Hermes’ and he holds a book rather than his usual wand, perhaps a reference to Hermes Trismegistos; the adoring baboon at his feet, moreover, shows up frequently on magical gems, where it probably refers to some solar aspect of Hermes in Late Antiquity, given the fact that according to Egyptian tradition baboons ‘naturally’ worshipped the rising sun at dawn.47 This motif appears also in Greek sources where the additional detail of the baboons intoning the seven vowels while greeting the sun can be found.48 A unique scene on the reverse of a gem in Florence comes close, in fact, to following this recipe: on the right we see Mercury in his usual pose, but holding out the head of a ram instead of a purse, while the baboon reveres him.49 Our final case study is the traditional Greek statue of the goddess Hekate rendered with three bodies and used to protect entrances. Because of the popularity in later Greek literature of witches like Medea and their patron goddess Hekate, it is superficially easy to connect this strange triple-faced image directly to the world of Hellenistic and Roman-Period magic, but this would give a false impression and ignore the pre-history of the image.50 This doorway statue of Hekate appears in Athens at least as early as the late Classical Period, when, according to Pausanias, the sculptor Alkamenes invented the image to be placed at the entrance of the Acropolis.51 Alkamenes’ 47 ASSMANN, König als Sonnenpriester, 28–9, 49; TE VELDE, Some Remarks; MORENZ, Stammeln, 197. 48 See, e.g. BONNER, SMA nos. 244–7 and MICHEL, Gemmen im Britischen Museum, nos. 149– 54. The idea that the seven Greek vowels comprised an invocation of the sun seems to have been connected in the Greek imaginary with the baboon’s alleged habit of intoning the same vowels in their proper order at sunrise, a habit said to be imitated by the Egyptians when they worshipped the sun at dawn (Demetr. De eloc. 71). 49 MASTROCINQUE (ed.), SGG II, no. Fi 72 (green jasper with brown streaks). On the obverse, we see a lion walking left with a bull’s head in his mouth, and below his feet a thunderbolt and a scorpion. 50 See, e.g., ZOGRAFOU, Chemins d’Hécate, 230–32 and 248–83, who refutes earlier claims – e.g. TUPET, Magie, 11–15 or CARABIA, Hécate garante, 30–31 and 41–2 – that the triple-headed Hekate originally had chthonic associations and was directly connected with magic spells. 51 Paus. 2.30.2. There is some dispute as to precisely where the statue stood, some favouring the base of an old Mycenaean tower (this explains the name of the statue) and others favouring a spot still visible on the bastion of the temple of Athena Nike, which was rebuilt at this time; see the thoughtful summary of PARKER, Polytheism, 18–19. For our purposes it suffices that the statue was stationed near the entrance of the Acropolis. The role of this statue as guardian of entrances or crossroads makes sense in the case of Hekate, of course, who elsewhere holds epithets such as ‘The one before the gate’ or ‘The one before the door’ (Propylaia or Prothyria) and has shrines at the entrances to the temples of other gods, most notably next to the gate of the sanctuary of Demeter Malophoros in Selinus; for full and recent discussions, see SARIAN, Hekate, 987–8 and ZOGRAFOU, Chemins d’Hécate, 95–122.
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monumental statue or descriptions of it do not survive, but many smaller triple images of Hekate did,52 as we can see in the examples in Pl. III, Fig. 5. These statuettes represent three maidens who stand in the round facing outwards, while resting their backs collectively on a central column and holding in their hands various implements associated with the goddess, most often torches, whips and swords. A reference in Aristophanes to such statues at the entrance of every Athenian home suggests their popularity at the domestic level, and by the end of the Hellenistic Period we find them throughout the Eastern Mediterranean.53 The placement of both the civic and domestic images of Hekate at doors and gates has long suggested, of course, that they were protective or apotropaic, as does the occasional pairing of them with herms,54 but no pre-Roman inscription or literary text actually says this. Indeed, it is not until the Roman Period that we find a recipe for the construction of such images or inscriptions on them that reveal their apotropaic nature. The recipe, however, comes not from a PGM handbook, but rather from a somewhat corrupt Greek ‘oracle of Pan’ preserved by Porphyry:55 Them [i.e. the demons] in turn you drive away by placing [the statue] ... Here are the symbola of the tri-colored wax Hekate … of white, black and red wax, having the image of Hekate carrying a whip, a torch and a sword … before the doors fashion it…
The oracle tells us, in short, that if we wish to drive away demons from the door of our house, we must fashion from wax a tri-coloured image of Hekate holding a whip, a torch and a sword, and then place it before the doors of the house.56 The text is corrupt and difficult, but I agree with FRITZ GRAF that it is most probably a recipe for a small wax statue of triple Hekate, in which each of the three figures is made of a differentcoloured wax and holds either a whip, a torch or a sword – that is, the traditional weapons that we find most often on the extant images of the Classical and Hellenistic Periods. A number of the Roman-Period images of Hekate are also inscribed or otherwise associated with texts that confirm that they were used to protect places or people from 52
For the debate about Alkamenes’ statue, see SARIAN, Hekate, 987–8; for the precedence of the domestic version, see FARAONE, Protective Statues. 53 A comic oracle refers in passing to ‘hekateia everywhere in front of doorways’ (Ar. Vesp. 804). The term can apparently refer to either statues or shrines; see SARIAN, Hekate, 988 and PARKER, Polytheism, 18–19. 54 There is some evidence that Alkamenes also designed a herm that stood in the Propylaia, and that a similar pair stood in the gate of the Athenian sanctuary of Asklepios; see HARRISON, Archaic and Archaistic Sculpture, 96 and ZOGRAFOU, Chemins d’Hécate, 155–9 with figs. 11a–b. See also Theopompus’ report of the piety of Clearchus of Methydrion, who offered incense to ancestral images of Hermes and Hekate, which likewise probably stood at the entrance to his house (Theopompus of Chios FGrH, 115F 344, quoted by Porph. De abst. 2.16.4–5). 55 Porph. De philo. 134. 56 For text and discussion see GU. WOOLF, De philosophia, 134–6. The image also has a snake entwined around it and stars. The text is somewhat corrupt, but there is no doubt that the image is the triple Hekate; I follow GRAF, Oracle, 277 in interpreting the first line of the oracle (‘Them in turn you drive away [elaunete] by placing... [the statue]’) to refer to demons that will be averted by the statue.
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various threats. Take, for example, a small marble plaque of Roman date (Pl. III, Fig. 6) from Dalmatia and now in Vienna that shows a triple-headed Hekate above and a Latin inscription below that warns passersby not to defecate or urinate on that spot or risk divine anger. 57 Note, too, that this image, like many of those from the Roman Period, has been rendered as a two-dimensional relief, a change which forces the artist to flatten out the perspective, either (as we see here) by rendering the triple heads as two profile faces flanking a frontal head or by showing only one head and body from which six arms emerge, somewhat like images of the Hindu goddess Shiva. In the Roman Period we find this same two-dimensional version carved into the flat surfaces of a number of magical gems, and once again a recipe from a lapidary handbook tells us why:58 This stone [i.e. red coral] is even called ‘gorgonios’ by some and on account of this they carve a Gorgon into it and set it in gold or silver. And if it is consecrated, it is the greatest phylactery (megiston phylakterion) ….and for slaves against the anger of masters, if they are engraved with a drawing (zodion) of Hekate.
A handful of red coral and red jasper gems, the latter probably a cheaper and more durable substitute for coral, suggests that this zodion depicted the triple Hekate. 59 These gems, moreover, are often inscribed with magical names or acclamations that sometimes end with short prayers in Greek,60 for example, ‘Rescue me!’61 We should note, then, that neither the recipe for the tri-coloured wax Hekate nor the lapidary recipe for the engraved gem add details from other traditions that reflect the supposed cultural pluralism of Roman-Period Greek magic. The reason, one might suspect, is that both recipes are unconnected with Egypt and are drawn from different Greek traditions for creating domestic and personal amulets. It is true, however, that 57
The plaque comes from Salo in Dalmatia and the inscription warns people not to deposit offal there, nor to defecate or urinate, and ends by suggesting that those who abide by it will be blessed by the goddess and those who do not will be punished; for discussion, see JAHN, Über den Aberglauben, 87–8, who connects it with the Athenian doorway statues, and CARABIA, Hécate garante, who translates the Latin as follows (p. 27): ‘Quiconque ne deposera pas d’excréments, ne défèquera pas, n’urina pas en ce lieu, que celle-ci lui soient propices! Si il passé outré, videret!’ The precise syntax of the last word (untranslated: videret) is debated, but all agree that it contains a threat of punishment. The drawing is from JAHN. 58 Orph. Lith. Keryg. 20.12–16. HALLEUX/SCHAMP (eds.), Lapidaires, ad loc. translate zodion as ‘animal’ and then (p. 327 n. 8) suggest this animal is ‘le surmelot (triglos)’, but this ignores the evidence of the gems, which show the triform Hekate. The Latin version in Damigeron-Evax makes no mention of animals when they tell us that ‘for the best protection against the anger of masters’ we should engrave the ‘nomen noctilucae, that is, the Hecates signum’. As NAGY, Gemmae magicae, points out, both texts must refer to images of the triform Hekate. 59 Coral: MICHEL, Gemmen im Britischen Museum, no. 70 (with magical names on the reverse) and MASTROCINQUE (ed.), SGG II, Vr26 (gorgoneion on one side and Hekate on the other). Red jasper: NAGY, Gemmae magicae, 157–62 discusses about a dozen red or red-orange gems (mostly jaspers), of which 7 have a gorgoneion on one side and tri-form Hekate on the other (nos. A1–7), two have the gorgoneion only (B1 and B3) and one the Hekate only (B-2). 60 MICHEL, Gemmen im Britischen Museum, nos. 68–9 (quote from the prayer on no. 68). 61 NAGY, Gemmae magicae, no. A4, which is identified as yellow marble, a rare medium, and is perhaps unrecognised faded coral.
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some of the Hekate gems are inscribed with other texts that do reflect the same kind of pluralistic tendencies that we saw earlier, for example, a speckled red and green jasper in London has on its reverse the name of the Babylonian goddess ‘Ereškigal’, a magnetite gem in Ann Arbor that seems to address the image with the names of other goddesses,62 and a third that has on its reverse the acclamation ‘ORARA conquers, Hekate subdues!’ (Pl. IV, Fig. 7a and b).63
3. Conclusions We have seen, then, how the magical and lapidary handbooks, and in one case an oracle, preserve recipes drawn from a variety of traditions that tell us how to make domestic statues or personal ornaments to be used as oracles or amulets. I summarise the evidence as follows, adding in the first column those cases where a similar civic statue also is attested: CIVIC oracles at Delphi/ Klaros
DOMESTIC visions (?)/oracles (wood statuette) PGM III recipe (Lollia’s simulacrum in Tacitus)
PERSONAL spoken oracles (Eucrates’ ring in Lucian)
Sarapis
dream incubation in temple (statue)
N/A
dream incubation (ring held to ear) PGM V recipe
Pantheos
N/A
protection and prosperity (wax statuette) PGM IV recipe
protection (gems)
Mercury with sack
N/A
profit/production (wax statuette) PGM IV recipe
profit (gems) lapidary recipe
Hekate Trimorph
before the Acropolis/
wards off demons (wax statuette) ‘oracle of Pan’ quoted by Porphyry
protection (gems) lapidary recipe
Apollo
62 MICHEL, Gemmen im Britischen Museum, no. 66 (Ereškigal) and BONNER, SMA 63, the latter of which is inscribed (beginning on the obverse): ‘BRIMO, PROKUNE, RHEXICHTHON, AKTIOPHI, ERESHKIGAL…’. Other gems (none of them red jaspers) address a short prayer for protection to the image of the triple Hekate, but invoke her by another single name: ZWIERLEIN-DIEHL, Siegel und Abdruck, no. 115 (a heliotrope in Bonn inscribed ‘ABLANATHANALBA, protect Romana!’), MASTROCINQUE (ed.), SGG I, 303 (a lost gem of uncertain medium inscribed ‘NEBOUTOSOUALĒTH, protect!’ and PHILIPP, Mira et magica, no. 51 (a yellowish chalcedony with ‘Iao SABAŌ, protect!’). 63 MICHEL, Gemmen im Britischen Museum, no. 69 (‘ORARA’ is probably a magical name or equivalent for Hekate). See also MASTROCINQUE (ed.), SGG II, Na 23 (a carnelian with the anguipede and the word Iao on the reverse) and BONNER, SMA nos. 63 and 66 (both hematite).
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In the first two cases, we saw how civic images of Apollo and Sarapis set up in important Greek sanctuaries have been adapted for use in the household and/or on the human body, our best case being, perhaps, the small versions of the statues of Apollo from two of his most famous oracular sanctuaries – Delphi and Klaros. The Theban recipe, however, suggests that the laurel-wood statue may have been designed to generate a vision of the god, rather than a spoken oracle, perhaps in a dream, as was suggested earlier. In the last three cases, on the other hand, we found recipes for the manufacture of a traditional domestic image – Egyptian Pantheos, Roman Mercury or Greek Hekate – that was designed to protect or bring prosperity to a home or shop. The description of the Pantheos statue in the Theban handbook and its use in a domestic setting follows an old Egyptian tradition, especially when it is labelled twice in the first two sentences of the recipe as a ‘protective amulet’. We noted, however, two ways in which the scribe then ‘translated’ the image into Greek: at its consecration the Pantheos is addressed in a short prayer as Aion and Agathos Daimon, and – as befits these new names – it is now to be used to promote economic prosperity in shops or a temple, in addition to protecting them. The image of Mercury likewise takes the form of the traditional statuette found in Roman houses and shops, but in our recipes – both the PGM handbook and the lapidary – the god is called by his Greek name ‘Hermes’ and Egyptian details have been added: the wax statue is secretly called PSENTEBĒTH while the gemstone version of the image replaces the traditional herald’s staff with a book roll and adds the image of the adoring baboon. In the cases of Pantheos and Mercury, then, the Theban handbooks confirm what scholars have often suspected about these traditional Egyptian and Roman statues – that prior to the Imperial Period both served as household guardians or talismans – but they also present these images in a more culturally pluralistic manner. The same is not true, however, for the recipe preserved in Porphyry and the lapidary that tell us how and why to make images of the triplebodied Hekate. Here the recipes come from non-Egyptian sources and we find, unsurprisingly, that there are no names, epithets or iconographic details added to the design to assimilate the image to that of an Egyptian god. At no point, moreover, in any of these recipes have we seen any Jewish names or divine epithets.64 It is mainly in the Theban recipes, then, that we see some attempts to position these images before the somewhat diverse Greek or Egyptian clientele residing in Egypt. These recipes are important because we can usually see how a traditional image created by a single culture is adapted and transformed in late antique Egypt. We saw, moreover, that these nods to cultural pluralism seem to occur primarily in two ways. The first is at the rather pedestrian level of nomenclature: Egyptian Pantheos is addressed as Aion and Agathos Daimon, Roman Mercury as PSENTEBĒTH, and so on. The second kind of adaptation is, I think, more important, albeit more subtle: the PGM recipes seem to press these traditional images into duties that are new for Apollo – the image of the Delphic Apollo, his tripod and his laurel-wood temple are apparently used, for example, to generate a vision or dream of the god, while the wax Pantheos 64 The one possible hint of Jewish ideas is the ‘angel’ (see note 32 above), who is described as being with Aion and the Agathos Daimon, but the word in Greek simply means ‘messenger’.
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statue, traditionally a protective image for homes, will now also encourage good business in shops or temples. We also saw some more subtle details of cross-cultural contact that are hard to call significant: Egyptian wine, for example, is offered to the Mercury image, and Etruscan wax is used to manufacture the Pantheos. These, then, are the limited signs of cultural pluralism in the manufacture of domestic statues in the PGM handbooks, and in most cases they would not even be visible in the final product, a feature that one cannot explain if, as some have suggested, these recipes were designed by native Egyptian priests to repackage older Pharaonic rituals and devices for their Greek-speaking clients.65 Closer to the truth, it seems, are the more recent insights that the priests and other native Egyptians themselves were sometimes the implied audiences of these handbooks, and that in some cases they were trying to recast non-Egyptian magical objects or rituals in a form that they themselves could appreciate and understand.66 In this context, the secret placement of the epithet PSENTEBĒTH inside a wax image of Mercury suggests that the author of this recipe hoped to secretly identify or further empower this foreign statue by adding a new epithet to his name or by ‘translating’ his name entirely, but without publicly acknowledging the change to his Egyptian neighbours. The statue of Mercury itself, moreover, is in the end completely hidden from view, and thus the secret name and the boastful Greek inscription about the god’s presence in the house (‘because x lives here!’) are doubly hidden and can only be appreciated by the client and the sorcerer who created the image for him.
65
FRANKFURTER, Religion, 198–237; and FRANKFURTER, Consequences of Hellenism – e.g. 181 (the PGM and PDM spells were designed ‘to create magical experiences for outsiders’, i.e. Greeks) – develops some insights of J.Z. SMITH, Temple, and argues that the longer Anastasi papyri (i.e. the Theban handbooks) were the working handbooks of native Egyptian priests struggling in the Imperial and Late Antique Periods to reconfigure their priestly and scribal selves as itinerant specialists, in part through the process of stereotype appropriation. 66 More recent work, however – e.g. GRAF, How to Cope, 103 (‘the impression of magicians working in splendid isolation, speaking only to gods and demons’); GORDON, Reporting the Marvelous and GORDON, From Substances, on the ‘marvelous’ in these spells and on the peculiar absence of references to clients; or DIELEMAN, Priests, passim, on the implied readers of the longer papyrus handbooks – has called into question the commonplace assumption that such texts were from the library of working magicians trying to translate native Pharaonic magic for Greeks; QUACK, Kontinuität und Wandel, 83–5; QUACK, Griechische und andere Dämonen, 429–30 against ascribing the ‘Theban Library’ to a direct temple context.
SPECIFIC SPELLS AND DEITIES
The Heliopolitan Ennead and Geb as a Scrofulous Boar in the PGM: Two Case Studies on Cultural Interaction in Late-Antique Magic JOACHIM FRIEDRICH QUACK 1. Preliminary remarks While it is quite normal to find Egyptian divine names and epithets within the socalled Papyri Graecae Magicae (which all come from Egypt and date mostly to the Roman Period), most often they are rather isolated cases. This entails a serious methodological impasse too rarely discussed. Many proposals for the etymological analysis of voces magicae rely mainly on the phonetic form. Working from dictionaries, for sound sequences transmitted in the papyri, Egyptian equivalents are proposed. This is risky, because most of the scholars involved in this process are either not Egyptologists at all or, even if they are, not specialists for the intricate problems of historical phonetics.1 Thus, the questions of the vocalisation or the actual realisation of the consonants at the Roman Period (which is not infrequently different from the lemmatisation in the dictionaries which tends to represent the eldest available form) are rarely addressed adequately. Furthermore, there is little semantic control over the results, since the direct context rarely provides enough evidence for checking conclusively if the proposed Egyptian etymology makes sense or not. The inevitable consequence of this dire state of affairs is that most Egyptian etymologies proposed up to date2 have to be considered dubious or even plainly wrong, and even in quite recent studies I do not see real progress in this matter.3 Critical remarks by Egyptologists4 tend to be ignored by scholars from other fields. Obviously we are on safer ground if we can identify a coherent group where the sum of equivalents can give additional weight to a proposal.5 The evident correlation of the clearer cases can help to bolster the whole and even make certain that those which in themselves would have been considered as insufficiently proven evidently make up what remains to fill up the complete group. A classical case of this is the phonetic rendering of the members of the Egyptian Ogdoad of Hermopolis in PGM
1
For an overview, see PEUST, Egyptian Phonology. Most of them are assembled in BRASHEAR, Greek Magical Papyri, 3576–603. 3 This concerns e.g. MASTROCINQUE (ed.), SGG I, 98–112 and TARDIEU/VAN DEN KERCHOVE/ZAGO (eds.), Noms barbares. 4 Like THISSEN, Etymogeleien; QUACK, From Egyptian Traditions. 5 Compare the methodological remarks by SCHWEMER, in this volume. 2
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XIII 788–9 and PGM XXI 19.6 The Greek renderings are η ω χω χουχ νουν ναυνι αμουν αμαυνι, obviously to be understood as the Egyptian OH OH.t Kk Kk.t Nn Nn.t AImn AImn.t.7 Even the blatant case that in the actual manuscript PGM XIII 788 ηωχω is written as a single word although that would leave only six entities instead of the eight explicitly indicated in the papyrus itself (PGM XIII 788),8 and that η as well as ω are too short for certain identification while χω is likely to be a misspelling for χωχ, cannot obscure the overall impression that a specific group of eight Egyptian deities is taken up in toto in the Greek-language manuscript.
2. The Heliopolitan Ennead in the PGM Keeping this guiding principle in mind, I would like to discuss another section where I suspect that a complete group of Egyptian deities can be found, this time less in phonetic rendering and more by way of semantic equivalents. The passage in question is PGM XII 232–5.9 That we have there almost all members of the Heliopolitan Ennead has already been recognised by MERKELBACH and TOTTI, without providing, however, an in-depth discussion of its meaning. 10 DIELEMAN has also studied the passage in some detail.11 Still, not only has their identification hardly been noted by Egyptologists, but even more so, there are a number of points in the composition of the section in question as well as its treatment by the copyist which merit a more detailed treatment. First, I would like to present the actual section as preserved in the manuscript: ἐγώ εἰμι ὁ Ἥλιος ὁ δεδειχὼς φῶς, ἐγώ εἰμι Ἀφροδείτη προσαγορευομένη Τυφι, ἐγώ εἰμι ὁ ἅ[γ]ι[ο]ς ἐπίβο{υ}λος ἀνέμων, ἐγώ εἰμι Κρόνος ὁ δεδειχὼ φῶς, ἐγώ εἰμι μήτηρ θεῶν ἡ καλ[ου]μένη οὐρανός, ἐγώ εἰμι Ὄσιρις ὁ καλούμενος ὕδωρ, ἐγώ εἰμι Ἶσις ἡ καλουμένη δρόσος, ἐγώ εἰμι Ησενεφυς ἡ καλουμένη ἔαρ. (PGM XII, 232–5) I am Helios who has showed forth light; I am Aphrodite addressed as Typhi; I am the holy sender12 of winds; I am Kronos who has showed forth light; I am the mother of gods who is called ‘heaven’; I am Osiris who is called ‘water’; I am Isis called ‘dew’; I am Eseneph