Keeping watch in Babylon : the astronomical diaries in context 9789004397767, 9004397760

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Keeping Watch in Babylon

Culture and History of the Ancient Near East Founding Editor M.H.E. Weippert Editor-in-Chief Jonathan Stökl Editors Eckart Frahm W. Randall Garr B. Halpern Theo P.J. van den Hout Leslie Anne Warden Irene J. Winter

volume 100

The titles published in this series are listed at brill.com/chan

Keeping Watch in Babylon The Astronomical Diaries in Context Edited by

Johannes Haubold John Steele Kathryn Stevens

leiden | boston

The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Haubold, Johannes, editor. | Steele, John M., editor. | Stevens, Kathryn, 1986- editor. Title: Keeping watch in Babylon : the astronomical diaries in context / edited by Johannes Haubold, John Steele, Kathryn Stevens. Description: Leiden ; Boston : Brill, 2019. | Series: Culture and history of the ancient Near East ; volume 100 Identifiers: lccn 2019003799 (print) | lccn 2019015928 (ebook) | isbn 9789004397767 (ebook) | isbn 9789004397750 (hardback :­alk. paper) Subjects: lcsh: Astronomy, Assyro-Babylonian. | Astronomy, Ancient. Classification: lcc qb 19(ebook) | lcc qb19 .k44 2019 (print) | ddc 520.935/5--dc23 lc record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019003799

Typeface for the Latin, Greek, and Cyrillic scripts: “Brill”. See and download: brill.com/brill-typeface. ISSN 1566-2055 ISBN 978-90-04-39775-0 (hardback) ISBN 978-90-04-39776-7 (e-book) Copyright 2019 by Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands. Koninklijke Brill NV incorporates the imprints Brill, Brill Hes & De Graaf, Brill Nijhoff, Brill Rodopi, Brill Sense, Hotei Publishing, mentis Verlag, Verlag Ferdinand Schöningh and Wilhelm Fink Verlag. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher. Authorization to photocopy items for internal or personal use is granted by Koninklijke Brill NV provided that the appropriate fees are paid directly to The Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Suite 910, Danvers, MA 01923, USA. Fees are subject to change. This book is printed on acid-free paper and produced in a sustainable manner.

Contents

List of Tables and Figures  vii Abbreviations  viii

Introduction  1 1

The Early History of the Astronomical Diaries  19 John Steele

2

Babylonian Market Predictions  53 Mathieu Ossendrijver

3

Logging History in Achaemenid, Hellenistic and Parthian Babylonia: Historical Entries in Dated Astronomical Diaries  79 Christopher Tuplin

4

Who Wrote the Babylonian Astronomical Diaries?  120 Eleanor Robson

5

The Astronomical Diaries and Religion in Seleucid and Parthian Babylon: the Case of the Prophet of Nanāya  154 Lucinda Dirven

6

The Museum Context of the Astronomical Diaries  186 Reinhard Pirngruber

7

From Babylon to Baḫtar: the Geography of the Astronomical Diaries  198 Kathryn Stevens

8

Royal Presence in the Astronomical Diaries  237 Marijn Visscher

9

History and Historiography in the Early Parthian Diaries  269 Johannes Haubold

vi

Contents

10

The Relationship between Greco-Macedonian Citizens and the “Council of Elders” in the Arsacid Period: New Evidence from Astronomical Diary BM 35269 + 35347 + 35358  294 Yasuyuki Mitsuma Index of Modern Authors  307 Index of Sources  308 Index of Names and Subjects  312

Tables and Figures Tables 1.1 1.2 6.1 6.2 7.1 7.2 7.3 7.4

Early compilation texts 23 A comparison of adart i Nos. -651 and -567 with later Diaries 45 Collection profile of the ADs according to ADART volumes I–III 190 Most relevant collections for ADART, volumes I–III 191 Toponymic and ethnic references in the Diaries by geographical scope 198 References to Babylonia in the Diaries by frequency 217 External and regional references in Seleucid and Parthian Diaries 221 Falls of fire in the Diaries (X = not preserved; shaded = fall of fire restored) 229

Figures 6.1 Composition of the corpus (absolute numbers) 192 6.2 Composition of the corpus (percentages) 192 7.1 Places and peoples mentioned in Late Achaemenid Diaries (420–331 BCE) 206 7.2 Places and peoples mentioned in Hellenistic Diaries (330–142 BCE) 208 7.3 Places and peoples mentioned in Parthian Diaries (141–61 BCE) 209 7.4 Places and peoples mentioned in Diaries from 330–250 BCE 211 7.5 Places and peoples mentioned in Diaries from 210 to 142 BCE 214 7.6 Places and peoples mentioned in Diaries from 141/140 bce 215 7.7 Babylonia in Hellenistic Diaries 219 7.8 Babylonia in Parthian Diaries 220

Abbreviations abc adart

bchp tcl 6

Grayson, A. K., 1975, Assyrian and Babylonian Chronicles (Locust Valley: J. J. Augustin). Sachs, A. J. and Hunger, H. 1988–, Astronomical Diaries and Related Texts from Babylonia, 6 vols. to date (Vienna: Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften). van der Spek, R. J. and Finkel, I. L., 2004-, Babylonian Chronicles of the Hellenistic Period, www.livius.org/cg-cm/chronicles/chron00.html Thureau-Dangin, F., 1922, Tablettes d’Uruk, Textes Cunéiformes de Louvre 6 (Paris: Paul Geuthner).

Introduction Johannes Haubold, John Steele and Kathryn Stevens 1

The Astronomical Diaries: Content, Structure, Style

The Astronomical Diaries are a collection of almost 1000 clay tablets recovered from ancient Babylon and dated between the early sixth and the mid-first century bce.1 They are also a testament to the human desire to make sense of the world—and to the ingenuity and persistence employed in order to do so. Written in cuneiform Akkadian—a script and language which by the end of their period of use were accessible only to Babylonia’s learned priestly elite— the Diaries contain records of celestial and terrestrial phenomena made by ancient Babylonian scholars over a period of at least five hundred years. The scholars recorded the results of regular and systematic astronomical observations as well as reporting on the value of commodities in the market, the level of the Euphrates River as it flowed through Babylon, and historical events in and around the city, and occasionally further afield. Observations were recorded in a dispassionate style and with an accuracy that has long made these texts a goldmine for students of ancient astronomy, the ancient economy, ancient history, and even modern geophysicists and astronomers who have used the astronomical observations that they contain to study long term changes in the Earth’s rate of rotation.2 Yet, these tablets were no mere database—or rather, if a database is what we want to call them, they were a database assembled, organised and presented according to principles that deserve (and repay) attention. Our knowledge of how the early Diaries were compiled is limited, but at least from the Seleucid period onward, the process of making a new Diary began with scholars noting down celestial observations and river level records for the Euphrates River on what have been termed by modern scholars 1 It used to be supposed that the genre went back even further, to the 8th century bce (Sachs 1974), but Steele shows in this volume (pp. 19–52) that the older view is mistaken. The latest known datable Diary is from 61 bce, but it is likely that Diaries continued to be written into the first century CE. 2 For use of the Diaries in the history of astronomy see, for example, Steele (2000a), Jones (2004), de Jong (2012) and the “Babylonian Diaries” collection assembled on the Edition Topoi platform (http://repository.edition-topoi.org/collection/BDIA); for analysis of the economic data, see Slotsky (1997) and Pirngruber (2017); for history, see Boiy (2004); for modern use of Babylonian astronomical observations, Stephenson (1997).

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���9 | doi:10.1163/9789004397767_002

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“­Preliminary Diaries”, documents that covered a period of up to one month.3 In a second step, scholars merged the data of several preliminary tablets and added lists of commodity values, a summary of the positions of the planets in the zodiac during the month, and reports of select historical events. Finally, these so-called “Short Diaries” were amalgamated into “Standard Diaries” covering periods of six or seven months, which contained the same information, always presented in the same order. Section 1, the opening report on the sky, was the longest and most detailed of the five. As well as being more extensive than all the others put together,4 it alone provided a systematic daily record of events. The phenomena recorded include the passages of the moon and planets past Normal Stars (a set of stars which due to their position near the ecliptic were used by Babylonian astronomers as reference points to track the apparent movements of the moon and planets); solstices and equinoxes; the first and last appearances of planets and the star Sirius, as well as their acronychal risings (the last time after a period of evening visibility when the celestial body is visible rising after sunset) and, for the outer planets Mars, Jupiter and Saturn their first and second stations, when the planets change their direction of motion; lunar and solar eclipses; and the so-called Lunar Six, a set of data which measured the time intervals between the moon and sun rising or setting at the beginning, middle and end of each month, i.e. around the time of the new moon and the full moon.5 We note that Section 1 alone features the language of “observation” (Akk. naṣāru) which gave the Astronomical Diaries their ancient title (naṣāru ša ginê, “Regular Observation”).6 Indeed, it is here that we see comments on the diarists’ process of observation—and its limitations. For example, in adart iii No. -125B rev. 7’ the observer notes that a solar eclipse occurred, but that he did not attempt to observe it (naṣāru) because there were clouds (DIR NU PAP). In the following year, SE 187 (125 bce), another solar eclipse was predicted for the 28th of Month v (adart iii No. -124A obv. 16’). This time, an attempt was made to observe it: 28 AN-KU 10 šamaš ki PAP NU IGI in 1 UŠ ME ana ŠÚ šamaš. The 28th, solar eclipse. When I watched (ki PAP) I did not see it (NU IGI); at 1,0° before sunset. 3 Detailed discussion in Mitsuma (2015). 4 The balance shifted somewhat in the late Hellenistic and Parthian periods, but the opening section always remained the longest and most systematic of the five. See Tuplin, this volume pp. 82–83. 5 Hunger (1999: 77–78). 6 Hunger (1999: 77).

Introduction

3

That a solar eclipse would take place on the 28th of Month v had been calculated in advance and was not in question: the diarist simply notes the fact, without any further comment. He then reports that he tried to observe (naṣāru) the eclipse, but could not see it (amāru).7 It seems significant that he records the failed attempt at observation: what is at stake here is not just the raw astronomical datum of an eclipse.8 In fact, when the authors comment on their duties of observation they usually do so in order to say that a celestial phenomenon could not be verified (NU IGI)9—though as the above passage demonstrates, they nonetheless recorded the predicted event. It follows that not all data recorded in Section 1 of the Diaries were based on observation.10 When an observation was possible it was recorded in the Diaries. When an observation could not be made, either because of adverse weather or because the event did not take place as expected, then the prediction would be recorded.11 The diarists clearly valued completeness over recording observation alone. It is important, moreover, to recognize that observation is not simply recording what is seen.12 What we have in the Diaries are mostly the results of what can be termed “guided observation”, in other words, ­observations 7

8 9

10

11

12

Reasons for why an observation failed are often, but not always, spelled out in the Diaries and almost always concern bad weather. In this case, the problem is simply that although predicted to begin before sunset, the eclipse began shortly after sunset and so was not visible in Babylon. The same is not true in Sections 2–4 (commodities, planets, and river levels), which present data as raw fact; for Section 5 (human history), see below pp. 8–9. The following sample is taken from the decades -389 to -380 and -89 to -80, near the beginning and end of the extant series: No observation/could not see: adart i Nos. -384 rev.’ 7; -382 ‘obv.’ 16’; -381B ‘col. ii 2’; -380B ‘obv.’ 2’ and 5’; adart iii Nos. -88B ‘obv. 8’ and rev.’ 13; -87A ‘obv.’ 5’; -87C ‘rev. 12’, 25’, 39’, 44’; -86B 16’; -85A 6’, C1 rev.’ 1, 4, 5, 9, 10, 16, 21, C2 ‘rev.’ 12’; -83 ‘obv.’ 7’, 14, rev. 6; -82A obv.’ 1, 8, B ‘obv.’ 13’. X was observed and/or seen: adart i No. -384 rev’ 5; adart iii No. -87A ‘rev.’ 17’. Hunger (1999: 77–78), who also notes that Sirius data, solstices and equinoxes were always and only computed (though this can only be affirmed with certainty for the Seleucid period), and that computed figures were never given for distances between the Moon and a Normal Star. A further subtlety needs to be mentioned. Over half of all predictions of eclipses were not expected by the scribes to result in an eclipse that they could see, either because the eclipse took place when the luminary was below the horizon (a daytime lunar eclipse or a night time solar eclipse) or because the eclipse was part of a Saros cycle that was known to be inactive but which needed to be predicted in order to keep the whole system going—see Steele (2000b) and Steele (2001–2002). Predictions of these unobservable eclipses were also reported in the Diaries. The notion of “observation” has been the subject of detailed study by historians and philosophers of science—see, for example, Daston and Lunbeck (2011) and, from the perspective of Babylonian astronomy, Rochberg (2016).

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of phenomena that were either predicted in advance or could be expected to occur by extrapolating from observations made on the preceding days. By the time they were recorded in the Diaries, many observations had undergone a process of analysis and adjustment. For example, many of the dates of the first and last visibilities of planets were adjusted from the raw observations using supplementary information such as the duration of visibility of the planet and its altitude when it was seen.13 The sky in Section 1 of the Astronomical Diaries is in many ways a separate realm: the stars and planets move along their pre-ordained paths with astonishing precision, and it is the task of the observer to match that regularity and precision as best he can down on earth. The upward gaze of the observer is met by obstacles, such as cloud cover—and also rain.14 The following is an early example (adart i No. -381A obv.’ 9): AN UTAḪ IM-GÚ KUR SÚ-ap Rainfall; mud overwhelmed the land. It is not often in the Diaries that celestial events affect life in “the land” (Akk. mātu) quite so dramatically. Mostly the fall of rain passes without further comment.15 Still, the diarists recorded even routine precipitation and more ­generally took an interest in the weather that went beyond noting obstacles to planetary observation or material damage caused by such rare events as “mud overwhelming the land”.16 Meteorological phenomena had an ominous significance in ancient Mesopotamia and attempts were made to discover longterm patterns that could be used to predict the weather.17 The Diaries, it seems, provided some of the observational data on which meteorological predictions were based. It must be noted, however, that unlike eclipses and other planetary phenomena, whose predictions were treated as certain and recorded in the 13 14 15

16 17

Huber (1977). For “fall of fire” see below, pp. 11–12 and Stevens, this volume, pp. 225–231. Less extreme instances of rain affecting the land are noted with the phrase AN E-SÍR TUḪ, which Sachs and Hunger translate “rain so that the sandal was removed” (Sachs and Hunger (1988: 33), cf. adart i No. -372A col. i 7 etc.; also -380B ’obv.’ 12’ etc.: “rain but the sandal was not removed”). Swerdlow (1998: 17–18) discusses the role of weather in obstructing celestial observation. Graßhoff (2011) insists, rightly, that the Diaries treat the weather as an object of study in its own right. For weather in Babylonian celestial scholarship see the weather omens collected in Enūma Anu Enlil Tablets 44–49, with discussion in Gehlken (2012). For attempts to predict the weather by correlating observational data with astronomical cycles see Hunger (1976).

Introduction

5

Diaries even when not directly observed, meteorological predictions were not themselves used to guide observations or affect how they were recorded in the Diaries. The opening survey of the sky was followed by a summary account of the values of six staple commodities at the market in Babylon (Section 2)—­effectively a snapshot of what ancient observers might have called “the life of the people” or “the land” (Akk. napišti nišī/māti).18 Barley, dates, mustard, sesame, cress and wool served to gauge general well-being in and around Babylon. Like other Mesopotamian texts, the Diaries recorded not the price of these commodities but rather the amount that could be purchased for “one shekel of wrought silver”.19 What they measured, in other words, was not the value of silver but the productivity of the land and the distribution of resources. Section 4, on river levels, fulfilled a similar function: rivers and canals were considered (and were) of vital importance to life in ancient Mesopotamia, and the Euphrates, which flowed through Babylon and was itself known as “the life of the land” (napišti māti), came to represent all other waterways.20 River level measurements were expressed in “cubits” ( ammātu) and “fingers” (ubānū),21 like the distances between the moon, planets, and Normal Stars of Section 1. Together, the river measurements and the astronomical observations formed the “Preliminary” Diaries which were later expanded into “Short” and eventually “Standard” Diaries.22 The same group of scholars evidently ­compiled both Section 1 and Section 4. It was when amalgamating Preliminary

18

19 20 21

22

For staple crops as “the life of the people” see, for example, CH xxvii r 12 ašnan napišti nišī (“grain, the life of the people”); Babylonian Theodicy 32 kurunnu napšat nišī (“beer, the life of the people”). The diarists sometimes spell out the role of staples in representing life in “the land” with the additional note ša ina māti innadnu, “(for one shekel of wrought silver) which was paid in the land”; cf. Sachs and Hunger (1988: 34). A similar list of staple commodities (barley, wine, oil and wool) that could be purchased for one shekel of silver is used to gauge the state “of my entire land” (ina napḫar mātīya) under Assurbanipal’s benevolent rule (Annals B § 5 i 36–38 Borger). Ossendrijver, this volume pp. 53–56. For the Euphrates as “the life of the land” see Reiner (1956: 134), line 49 (lipšur Purattu napišti māti). More generally cf. OB Atrahasis i 21–24 with Assyrian Recension S col. i 5–7; also SB Atrahasis (Sippar) I.21–26. They also both feature a slightly mysterious entity called the NA, though it is unclear whether this is a significant parallel, given that the NA appears to be used differently in each section. In celestial reports, it measured the time interval between the sun and moon crossing the horizon (Sachs and Hunger 1988: 20). In river reports, it served as a (downward) gauge for water levels (Sachs and Hunger 1988: 35). For this process see Mitsuma (2015: 59–63), whose findings are mostly based on Seleucid and Parthian Diaries.

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Diaries into Short Diaries that they inserted summary lists of ­commodities between the monthly scan of the sky and the river reports. They also added planetary positions in the zodiac (Section 3), just before the report on river levels. Tracking the path of the planets through the zodiac was important in late Babylonian celestial scholarship,23 which may be why the diarists used a separate entry for it. Preliminary Diaries left an empty space between celestial observations and river data, presumably for practical reasons.24 Sometimes, the blank was filled with commodity lists and planetary positions directly on the Preliminary Diary itself.25 This, it would seem, set the pattern for the series as a whole, but the question arises of why planetary summaries were placed after the commodity lists and not before them, in which case they could have been grouped with the survey of the sky.26 A philological detail first noticed by Francesca Rochberg suggests a plausible answer: unlike the other sections of the Diaries, Section 3, the summary of planetary data, begins not with the phrase “that month” (ITU BI, Akk. arḫu šū) but instead with the adverb inūšu, “at that time”.27 The difference may seem slight but is in fact significant. Whereas arḫu šū (“that month”) specifies a moment in time, inūšu (“at that time”) correlates events: when X happened/was the case, then (inūšu) Y also happened/was the case. We frequently encounter this usage in Babylonian poetry, royal inscriptions and chronicles, ­typically (though not always) in connection with a sub-clause introduced by inu or inūma, “when”.28 inūšu also occurs in horoscopes (without a preceding inu clause), and this is the parallel that seems to fit best here. Here is an example of an early horoscope, AB 251:29

23 24 25 26

27 28

29

Rochberg (2004: 126–133). Mitsuma (2015: 57–58). Mitsuma (2015: 60–61). The data assembled in the planetary summaries overlap with observations recorded in Section 1 of the Astronomical Diaries but are not always identical with them. As Gray (2009: 65–66) notes, in cases where both the raw observed and the corrected “ideal” date of a planetary phenomenon are recorded in Section 1, the summary usually gives only the “ideal” date; see also the table in Gray (2009: 151–153). Rochberg (2004: 150–151). The expression occurs for the first time in connection with a planetary summary in adart i No. -463 obv. 3’. Thus, famously, Enūma eliš i 29 and CH col. i 27. The authors of the Diaries would certainly have been familiar with these two passages. Both involve a protasis with inu/inūma; for an example in chronicle literature that does not, see CM 49.18 (Glassner 2005: 294–295). Text and translation after Rochberg (1998: 56).

Introduction

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1 ITI(?).BARA 2 GE 6(?) 14(?) … … GAR(?) ÀŠ(?) 2 DUMU šá IMU.ŠEŠ DUMU šá IMU.MU A Ide-ke-e(?) a-li[d] 3 i-nu-šú sin šap-lat SI GÁR.TAB 4 MÚL.BABBAR ina KUN.MEŠ ddele-bat 5 ina GU 4.AN GENNA ina ALLA 6 AN ina MAŠ.MAŠ GU 4.UD šá Š[Ú]. N[U IGI] 1 Nisannu, night of the 14th(?), …[PN] 2 son of Šumu-uṣur, son of Šumu-iddina, descendant of Dēkē, was born. 3 At that time (inūšu), the moon was below the Pincer of the Scorpion, 4 Jupiter was in Pisces, Venus 5  in Taurus, Saturn in Cancer, 6 Mars in Gemini. Mercury, which had set, was not vis[ible]. Here the adverb inūšu correlates the birth of a child with the position in the zodiac of the moon and the five planets. Leaving aside line 3, on the moon, the rest of the horoscope shows close parallels with the planetary summary of the Astronomical Diaries.30 The verbal parallels suggest how we might read the Diaries—or rather, how some ancient scholars did in fact read them. Horoscopes mapped individual lives to planetary data. The Diaries, it would seem, encouraged their readers to relate these data more generally to life in “the land”. We must conclude that the Astronomical Diaries were not simply a database of astronomical observations. Of course, observational data never speak for themselves: there is always a question of how findings are presented, which in turn informs how they are then used by others. In the Astronomical Diaries, one of the aims seems to have been to facilitate correlations between events in heaven and those on earth. This brings us finally to the so-called “historical” sections of the Diaries (Section 5), which round off the monthly reports and which, like the sections on crops and planetary data, were added when the Preliminary Diaries were turned into Short Diaries. Their function was to explore 30

The relevant Diary entry is lost, but even without being able to compare the astronomical data, the similarities in style and phrasing seem compelling evidence for borrowing. For even clearer cases of borrowing see Rochberg 1998: 61, Text 4 obv. 4 – rev. 1 and 73, Text 7 Upper edge 1–3. Here, data on the moon is given before an inūšu clause introduces standard planetary observations in the manner of the Astronomical Diaries. Other horoscopes leave out inūšu but nonetheless draw on the planetary section of the Diaries. Horoscope Text 15 (Rochberg), for example, must have been based on adart ii No. -202 rev. 4’; see Rochberg (1998: 98).

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in greater detail the picture of life on earth,31 by focusing not on nature but on human activity. Two main areas were singled out for comment. The first is religious and political matters centred in and around Babylon, including ominous occurrences of various kinds, the occurrence or disruption of festivals and other cultic practices, the affairs of the Marduk temple, the activities of its priesthood, and more generally the political and economic situation in Babylon itself, as well as in other cities in Babylonia such as neighbouring Borsippa, Uruk, the major city of southern Babylonia, and during the Seleucid period the new capital at Seleucia on the Tigris to the north.32 A second group of reports tracked the movements of the king, his army and other royal representatives all over the empire—and the deaths of members of the royal family, at home or abroad.33 Traditionally, the king guaranteed the well-being of the Babylonian temples and hence society,34 so here again we see a focus on events that could represent the state of the land (mātu) as a whole. The language introducing the astronomical and historical sections is different. The first emphasises observation, the latter hearing (Akk. alteme umma, “I heard as follows”).35 The question arises of whether this particular way of introducing historical events finds parallels within Babylonian historiography, especially the so-called Chronicles, a disparate set of texts that range in their chronological scope from the distant past to current events.36 Some scholars have suggested that the Chronicles dealing with more recent history were

31

32 33 34

35

36

References to the state of “the land” (Akk. mātu) link Section 5 with Sections 1 (the sky) and 2 (commodities); see e.g. adart i No. -382 obv.’ 13 (ina māti, “in the land”) and adart iii No. -88B ‘obv. 11’ (ina tarṣa nišī māti, “among the people of the land”), from near the beginning and end of the extant corpus. For details see Pirngruber (2013); Tuplin (this volume, pp. 84–107). For detailed discussion see Visscher (this volume, pp. 237–268). This is particularly pronounced in the Neo-Babylonian period, when the Astronomical Diaries settled into something like their final shape; for royal self-representation during this period see Da Riva (2008: Ch. 9); for Nebuchadnezzar in particular as a model king in later periods see Haubold (2013: 130–132 and 164–167). The particle umma marks what follows as reported speech. For “hearing” see Tuplin, this volume, pp. 101–103, who notes that this feature of the Diaries becomes more pronounced with time. It is not clear why the diarists added these notes in some places and not others, or why they added them at all. One possibility is that they echoed their sources of information: Babylonian letters typically opened with the phrase ana PN qibīma umma (“Say the following to PN”), so if the diarists received some of their historical information in this form it would have been natural for them to introduce it with the corresponding phrase alteme umma (“I heard as follows”). For the Chronicles see Waerzeggers (2012), which supersedes earlier discussions.

Introduction

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based on the Diaries—a hypothesis that no longer seems tenable.37 Others have argued that the Diaries at some point replaced the Chronicles as the historical genre of choice.38 Christopher Tuplin addresses precisely this issue on pp. 107–111 in this volume. For now, we ask simply whether the Astronomical Diaries and the Chronicles frame their historical accounts in different ways. This is hard to establish because of the fragmentary nature of our evidence, but it seems that on the whole Babylonian Chronicles do not emphasise hearing to the same extent as the Diaries.39 If that is correct, the emphasis on ­hearing in Section 5 of the Diaries is best explained by way of the larger textual context in which it is found, a context of observation and record-keeping which, it seems, e­ ncouraged the diarists to indicate how they acquired their historical information. The peculiar content, structure and style of the Diaries raises questions about what the scholars who compiled them offered their readers. Specifically, there is the issue of what connections, if any, they suggest between the phenomena described in the different sections. It is clear that in their thematic focus and language the Diaries owe much to the Babylonian prognostic tradition, but what is still far less clear is to what extent a prognostic interpretative framework is relevant for the Diaries themselves.40 Were some or all of the data produced by the scholars’ “regular watch” designed for what we would call “astrological” purposes, using celestial phenomena to predict events on earth? We have seen that Section 3 of the Diaries (planetary data) is linked to Section 2 (commodities) in ways that recall the structure and wording of Babylonian horoscopes, suggesting that the Astronomical Diaries encouraged some degree of cross-referring between the registers. Indeed, Mathieu Ossendrijver shows in this volume (pp. 53–78) that ancient scholars attempted to predict economic developments precisely by correlating them to planetary data. The diarists did 37 38 39

40

The old view goes back to Wiseman (1956) and Grayson (1975: 12–14). It is refuted by Brinkman (1990); cf. Glassner (2004: 46–47). For detailed discussion see Steele (this volume, pp. 38–41). Pirngruber (2013: 205). bchp 15, where alteme umma does occur (rev. 10) has been shown to be a Diary, not a Chronicle; see Mitsuma (2015: 63). bchp 10 (rev. 5’) may be the exception that proves the rule; see Tuplin (this volume, p. 109 with n. 117). However, that text is badly mutilated and what remains of it reads so much like a Diary that, as an example of Chronicle writing, it should be treated with extreme caution. Discussion in Pirngruber (2013), who considers the divergent views of Hunger and Pingree (1999: 139–144) and Slotsky (1997: 17–18) on the one hand; and Rochberg (e.g. 2004: 62–63) and van der Spek (1993: 94) on the other. According to the former scholars, the purpose of the Diaries was essentially non-astrological. According to the latter, the Diaries at least also provided the basis for divination.

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not, however, link up other sections of the Diaries in this way, and they are notably reticent about making explicit connections between the movements of the stars and planets (Section 1) and human activity on earth (Section 5). For illustration, here is a record of Alexander’s victory in the Battle of Gaugamela, an event that became famous in antiquity for having been announced by a lunar eclipse (adart i No. -330 obv.’ 2’–4’): 2’ […] ˹x˺ […] 13 8 ŠÚ ˹x˺ […] 3’ […] ˹GE 6˺ gab-šú ŠÚ 10 UŠ ˹GE 6˺ [GIN…] ḫe-pí MÚL-BABBAR ŠÚ ˹GENNA˺ […] 4’ […] ina ÍR MAR ina ZALÁG KUR GINme x […] 4 Ú KAxŠID ina AN-KU 10 NAM.ÚŠme u šip-ṭi ina? [KUR ?] 2’ […] … […]The 13th, moonset to sunrise: go … […] 3’ […lunar] eclipse, in its totality covered. 10o night [totality?…] (broken) Jupiter set; Saturn […] 4’ […] during totality the west wind blew, during clearing the east wind. […] fourth?…; during the eclipse, deaths and plague? [occurred?] in [the land?] We learn in Section 1 of the Diary entry that there was a total lunar eclipse on the 13th of the month Ulūlu 331 bce. In Section 5 of the same entry, the diarist tells us that Darius did battle with Alexander soon after:41 14’ I TU BI U4-11-KÁM ḫat-tu4 ina ma-dàk-tu4 ina qud-me LUGAL GAR-m[a?…] 15’ ana tar-ṣi LUGAL ŠUB-ú 24-KÁM ina še-rì LUGAL ŠÚ za-qip-t[u4?…] 16’ GABA a-ḫa-meš im-ḫa-ṣu-ma ŠI.ŠI lúERINmeš kab-t[u4…] 17’ LUGAL ERINmeš-šú ú-maš-šìr-ú-ši-ma ana URUmeš-šu-nu […] 18’ [ana m]at gu-ti-i ZÁḪ-it-u’ (blank) […] 14’ On the eleventh of that month there was panic in the camp before the king […] 15’ lay opposite the king. On the morning of the 24th, the king of the world […] the standard 16’ they fought each other and the troops (of Darius) were heavily defeated […]

41

Text and translation after Rollinger and Ruffing (2012: 103 with n. 12), modified.

Introduction

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17’ the king (and) his troops abandoned the camp and (returned) to their cities […] 18’ they fled to Gutium. The diarist clearly considers Gaugamela a historical watershed. When the old king and his army flee to “Gutium”, they enter a space which, in Babylonian tradition, was considered quintessentially foreign.42 Gutium was, at one level, an archaising term for Media, which we know lay on Darius’ route of retreat. Yet, it was also an ominous location, familiar from countless predictions about the fortunes of the incumbent king of Babylon.43 All this in the context of “the king of the world” doing battle with his rival could only mean one thing: control of the world had changed hands at Gaugamela. In Mesopotamian culture, major historical events were thought to be announced by ominous signs,44 and the Babylonian scholars writing the Diaries would certainly have known that eclipses could be inauspicious for the incumbent king.45 They would thus have found it easy, in principle, to connect the Battle of Gaugamela with the lunar eclipse just eleven days before it, and this is in fact what Alexander himself did: Greek and Roman sources report that he claimed the eclipse as a favourable sign for himself.46 The Diaries do not offer an interpretation along these lines, though they hint that it might have been possible to do so. Let us consider, first of all, the “panic” which, the diarist tells us, spread in the camp of Darius two days before the eclipse. What we have here is the cliché of the doomed king, calculated, it would seem, to suggest with hindsight that Darius was bound to lose.47 The diarist, however, does not explicitly connect the sudden drop in morale with the eclipse. He does say that the eclipse coincided with “deaths and plague”: celestial events of this kind clearly can have a bearing on life in the land. However, we are not asked to link the eclipse to the Battle of Gaugamela specifically, which the diarist records later.48 The Diary 42 For the historical Guti and their afterlife in Mesopotamian tradition, see Hallo (1971). 43 See Reiner (1999: 22) and Steele (2015) for Gutium ~ “the North” in celestial omens; further discussion in Stevens (this volume, p. 203). 44 Omens about the fate of the land and the incumbent king make up the bulk of the canonical celestial omen series Enūma Anu Enlil (Reiner 1999: 22). 45 Reiner (1999), Polcaro, Valsecchi and Verderame (2008: 60). 46 Arrian, Anabasis 3.7.5–6; cf. Curtius 4.10.2–7 and Plutarch, Alexander 31.4. 47 Rollinger and Ruffing (2012). 48 The text could not be clearer in this regard. The eclipse, we learn, happens before the battle, and the deaths that accompany it (deaths by natural causes, it would seem) occur only during the eclipse itself.

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also mentions “falls of fire” on two successive nights, one of them close to a temple. Again it would have been easy to interpret these events as ominous,49 but again the diarist refrains from drawing an explicit connection. Finally, there is Gaugamela itself. The text is broken at this point so we cannot be certain who is described as “king of the world” on the eve of the battle. If it is Alexander, as some have argued, he has history on his side.50 If “king of the world” refers to Darius,51 the battle becomes a struggle for world rule. Either way, a “king of the world” on the battlefield raises the stakes in a manner that recalls the stark alternatives of Babylonian omen literature.52 One more time we see how easy it would have been to construct a fateful chain of events. There was plenty in these records that lent itself to making such connections, and some people in antiquity clearly did make them.53 The Diaries, however, confine their focus to charting the phenomena themselves. What they do is provide their readers with a cognitive matrix for a whole range of possibilities—which were then further investigated in Late Babylonian astronomy and astrology. 2

Text and Context

The authors of the Astronomical Diaries neither contented themselves with stockpiling undigested data, nor did they promote a simple message about astral determinism. Rather, they created an intertwined account of events in heaven and on earth which set an intellectual agenda for generations of Babylonian scholars. At a basic level, those scholars saw in the world what the Diaries allowed them to see: their work depended on the data which these texts supplied. The data were abstracted, compiled into other texts, and utilised within a wide range of astronomical, astrological and other scholarly practices both in Babylonia and in the Greco-Roman world.54 What seems important now, also in order to lay the groundwork for further investigation of these 49 50 51 52 53 54

For the ominous significance of “falls of fire” see Maul (1994: 117), Pirngruber (2013: 203), Stevens (this volume p. 225). Van der Spek (2003), Rollinger and Ruffing (2012). Note that the victorious Alexander will soon enter Babylon as “king of the world” (adart i No. -330 ‘rev.’ 11’). Thus Visscher (this volume, p. 241). The scope and tone of Babylonian omen texts is discussed in Rochberg (2004: 44–97). For the Diaries gathering data that could be interpreted as ominous see Hallo (1988: 188), Aaboe (1992: 278), Swerdlow (1998: 16–17), Graßhoff (2011). The point here is that the diarists largely refrained from suggesting such connections themselves. For the connection of the Diaries with other types of astronomical texts, see Hunger (1999) and Gray and Steele (2008); for the connection with other scholarly disciplines, see provisionally Rochberg (2004) and Steele (2011a); for the transmission of Babylonian

Introduction

13

processes of abstraction and reuse, is to get a better understanding of the structure and content of the Astronomical Diaries and, crucially, of the context of their production. This collection investigates the nature and context of the Astronomical Diaries, starting from some basic questions. What is the origin of the Diaries? Who wrote them and why? And to what extent did they change over time? In order to answer these questions, contributors to this volume draw on much valuable work that has already been done on the Astronomical Diaries in their intellectual, institutional and political context. Several scholars have investigated individual strands of the corpus and their relationship with other genres of astronomical and historical literature.55 Others have studied how the Diaries were produced, from initial notes to final archive copies.56 Again others have explored changes to the corpus over time.57 What we need now, we argue, is a more holistic approach. The aim is to link up questions of textual production, preservation and interpretation with the intellectual aspirations and social circumstances of those who produced the Diaries. The structure of the volume reflects this aspiration. In the first three chapters, on the Diaries in their intellectual context, John Steele begins by reconsidering the ­origins of the corpus. Looking at broader developments in observational astronomy during the first millennium bce, he establishes that the Diaries as we know them go back to the reign of Nebuchadnezzar ii, not Nabonassar as previously thought (pp. 19–52). Mathieu Ossendrijver then considers the relationship between the economic data and planetary positions recorded in Sections 2 and 3 of the Diaries. Drawing on newly identified texts he shows precisely how cuneiform scholars used the latter to predict the former (pp. 53–78). Christopher Tuplin rounds off this group of chapters by looking at the historical fifth section of the Diaries’ monthly accounts. After a careful analysis of the authors’ preferred topics and historiographical style, he reassesses the much-discussed relationship between the Diaries and Chronicles as the two main genres of historiography practiced in first-millennium Mesopotamia (pp. 79–119). In the second group of chapters, on the Astronomical Diaries in their institutional context, Eleanor Robson probes the socio-political background of

astronomical observations to the Greco-Roman world, see Steele (2004), Steele (2011b) and Jones (2006). 55 Astronomy: Hunger (1999), Rochberg (2004), Gray and Steele (2008) among many others; commodities and river levels: Slotsky (1997), de Meis (2011), Pirngruber (2017); historical sections: Brinkman (1990), van der Spek (1993), Del Monte (1997), Boiy (2004). 56 Mitsuma (2015). 57 Pirngruber (2013), Stevens (forthcoming), both with reference to the historical sections.

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the Diaries, asking who produced these texts, how the authors earned their living, and how they coped with periods of political and social instability (pp. 120–153). Looking beyond the milieu of the major temples, Lucinda Dirven examines how the authors of the Diaries responded to developments in contemporary religion, a matter of immediate concern to them as members of the Babylonian priestly elite (pp. 154–185). Finally, Reinhard Pirngruber studies how the Diaries were kept in antiquity, using a museological approach to suggest that they were shelved in groups that are still reflected in the make-up of modern collections (pp. 186–197). The remaining four chapters turn to broader politics, and the Diaries’ relationship to changes in Babylonia’s status within successive empires during the later first millennium. Kathryn Stevens looks at the geographical horizons of the Diaries, arguing that fluctuations in imperial boundaries and communication networks correlate with shifts in the scope and texture of the Diaries themselves (pp. 198–236). Marijn Visscher then studies the king and royal family as the main protagonists of human history in the Diaries (pp. 237–268). She shows that their portrayal underwent subtle changes over time, as successive rulers d­ eveloped different ways of interacting with their subjects. Concluding the volume, Johannes Haubold and Yasuyuki Mitsuma investigate changes in historical emphasis and historiographical outlook towards the very end of the Diary series (pp. 269–293 and 294–306). While Haubold argues that the authors of the Parthian Diaries responded to a period of upheaval and transition, Mitsuma’s discussion of an unpublished Parthian Diary showcases the genre’s interest in civic life, and shows just how much still remains to be discovered in the Astronomical Diaries. This volume is based on a conference held at Durham University in July 2016, some two decades after the completion of Sachs and Hunger’s groundbreaking edition of the datable fragments. Taking full advantage of that edition, speakers read the Astronomical Diaries in their historical context rather than mining them for abstract astronomical, economic, climatic and historical data. The team of scholars who met in Durham included experts in Assyriology, Classics and Ancient History, the ancient economy, the history of religion and the history of science. Our aim, then, was to reach across disciplinary boundaries in order to gain a better understanding of this truly extraordinary, and extraordinarily influential, ancient chronicle of events in heaven and on earth. We are grateful to all those who contributed to the conference, and to the British Academy, the Institute for Advanced Study at Durham University, and the Department of Classics and Ancient History and Centre for the Ancient Mediterranean and Near East (camne) at D ­ urham

Introduction

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for the generous financial and logistical support which made it possible. Above all, we would like to express our gratitude to Hermann Hunger, who responded to the conference papers and who, together with the late Abraham Sachs, laid the textual foundations on which the whole project rests. We hope the resulting volume conveys some of the intellectual excitement of the conference, and in so doing serves as a modest tribute to the work of Hunger, Sachs, and a group of ancient scholars who over a period of more than half a millennium, day and night, rain or shine, good times and bad, kept watch in Babylon. References Aaboe, A., 1992, “Babylonian Mathematics, Astrology, and Astronomy”, in J. Boardman et al. (eds) The Cambridge Ancient History, 2nd edn (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press), 276–292. Boiy, T., 2004, Late Achaemenid and Hellenistic Babylon (Leeuven: Peeters). Brinkman, J.A., 1990, “The Babylonian Chronicle Revisited”, in T. Abusch, J. Huehnergard, and P. Steinkeller (eds), Lingering Over Words: Studies in Ancient Near Eastern Literature in Honor of William L. Moran (Atlanta, GA: Scholars Press), 73–104. Da Riva, R, 2008, The Neo-Babylonian Royal Inscriptions (Münster: Ugarit-Verlag). Daston, L. and E. Lunbeck (eds), 2011, Histories of Scientific Observation (Chicago: University of Chicago Press). de Jong, T., 2012, “Babylonian Observations of Venus: Arcus Visionis, Atmospheric Extinction and Observational Practice”, Journal for the History of Astronomy 43, 391–409. de Meis, S., 2011, “Tablets, Tides and the Level of Euphrates”, in G.J. Selz and K. Wagensommer (eds), Die empirische Dimension altorientalischer Forschungen (Vienna: LIT Verlag), 131–148. Del Monte, G.F., 1997, Testi dalla Babilonia Ellenistica. Vol. 1: Testi Cronografici (Pisa and Rome: Istituti Editoriali e Poligrafici Internazionali). Gehlken, E., 2012, Weather Omens of Enūma Anu Enlil: Thunderstorm, Wind and Rain (Tablets 44–49) (Leiden: Brill). Glassner, J.-J., 2005, Mesopotamian Chronicles, ed. B.R. Foster (Leiden: Brill). Graßhoff, G., 2011, “Babylonian Meteorological Observations and the Empirical Basis of Ancient Science”, in G.J. Selz and K. Wagensommer (eds), Empirische Dimensionen altorientalischer Forschungen (Vienna: LIT Verlag), 33–48. Gray, J.M.K., 2009, A Study of Babylonian Goal-Year Planetary Astronomy (Diss. Durham).

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Gray, J.M.K. and J.M. Steele, 2008, “Studies on Babylonian Goal-Year Astronomy i: A Comparison Between Planetary Data in Goal-Year Texts, Almanacs and Normal Star Almanacs”, Archive for History of Exact Sciences 62, 553–600. Grayson, A.K., 1975, Assyrian and Babylonian Chronicles (Locust Valley, NY: J.J. Augustin). Hallo, W.W., 1971, “Gutium”, in D.O. Edzard (ed.), Reallexikon der Assyriologie und vorderasiatischen Archäologie vol. 3 (Berlin: De Gruyter), 708–720. Hallo, W.W., 1988, “The Nabonassar Era and Other Epochs in Mesopotamian Chronology”, in E. Leichty, M. deJ. Ellis, and P. Gerardi (eds), A Scientific Humanist: Studies in Memory of Abraham Sachs (Philadelphia: The University of Pennsylvania Museum), 175–190. Haubold, J., 2013, Greece and Mesopotamia: Dialogue in Literature (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press). Huber, P.J., 1977, “Early Cuneiform Evidence for the Existence of the Planet Venus”, in Scientists Confront Velikovsky (New York and London: Norton). 117–144. Hunger, H., 1976, “Astrologische Wettervorhersagen”, Zeitschrift für Assyriologie und vorderasiatische Archäologie 66, 234–259. Hunger, H., 1999, “Non-Mathematical Astronomical Texts and Their Relationships”, in N.M. Swerdlow (ed.), Ancient Astronomy and Celestial Divination (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press), 77–96. Hunger, H. and D. Pingree, 1999, Astral Sciences in Mesopotamia (Leiden: Brill). Jones, A., 2004, “A Study of Babylonian Observations of Planets near Normal Stars”, Archive for History of Exact Science 58, 475–536. Jones, A., 2006, “Ptolemy’s Ancient Planetary Observations”, Annals of Science 63, 255–290. Maul, S.M., 1994, Zukunftsbewältigung. Eine Untersuchung altorientalischen Denkens anhand der babylonisch-assyrischen Löserituale (Namburbi) (Mainz: Philipp von Zabern). Mitsuma, Y., 2015, “From Preliminary Diaries to Short Diaries: The First and Second Steps in the Compilation Process of the Late Babylonian Astronomical Diaries”, SCIAMVS: Sources and Commentaries in Exact Sciences 16, 53–73. Pirngruber, R., 2013, “The Historical Sections of the Astronomical Diaries in Context: Developments in a Late Babylonian Scientific Text Corpus”, Iraq 75, 197–210. Pirngruber, R., 2017, The Economy of Late Achaemenid and Seleucid Babylonia (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press). Polcaro, V.F., G.B. Valsecchi, and L. Verderame, 2008, “The Gaugamela Battle Eclipse: An Archaeoastronomical Analysis”, Mediterranean Archaeology and Archaeometry 8, 55–64. Reiner, E., 1956, “Lipšur Litanies”, Journal of Near Eastern Studies 15, 129–149.

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Reiner, E., 1999, “Babylonian Celestial Divination”, in N.M. Swerdlow (ed.), Ancient Astronomy and Celestial Divination (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press), 21–38. Rochberg, F., 1998, Babylonian Horoscopes (Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society). Rochberg, F., 2004, The Heavenly Writing: Divination, Horoscopy, and Astronomy in Mesopotamian Culture (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press). Rochberg, F., 2016, Before Nature: Cuneiform Knowledge and the History of Science (Chicago: University of Chicago Press). Rollinger, R. and K. Ruffing, 2012, “‘Panik’ im Heer—Dareios III., die Schlacht von Gaugamela und die Mondfinsternis vom 20. September 331 v. Chr.”, Iranica Antiqua 47, 101–115. Sachs, A., 1974, “Babylonian Observational Astronomy”, Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society of London. Series A, Mathematical and Physical Sciences 267: 43–50. Sachs, A. and H. Hunger, 1988, Astronomical Diaries and Related Texts from Babylonia. Volume i: Diaries from 652 B.C. to 262 B.C. (Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften). Slotsky, A., 1997, The Bourse of Babylon: Market Quotations in the Astronomical Diaries of Babylonia (Bethesda, MD: Capital Decisions Ltd). Steele, J.M., 2000a, Observations and Predictions of Eclipse Times by Early Astronomers (Dordrecht: Kluwer Academic Publishers). Steele, J.M., 2000b, “Eclipse Prediction in Mesopotamia”, Archive for History of Exact Sciences 52, 421–454. Steele, J.M., 2001–2002, “The Meaning of BAR DIB in Late Babylonian Astronomical Texts”, Archiv für Orientforschung 48/49, 107–112. Steele, J.M., 2004, “Applied Historical Astronomy: An Historical Perspective”, Journal for the History of Astronomy 35, 337–355. Steele, J.M., 2011a, “Astronomy and Culture in Late Babylonian Uruk”, in C.L.N. Ruggles (ed.), Archaeoastronomy and Ethnoastronomy: Building Bridges between Cultures (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press), 331–341. Steele, J.M., 2011b, “Visual Aspects of the Transmission of Babylonian Astronomy and its Reception into Greek Astronomy”, Annals of Science 64, 453–465. Steele, J. M, 2015, “Mesopotamian Astrological Geography”, in P. Barthel and G. van Kooten (eds), The Star of Bethlehem and the Magi (Leiden: Brill), 201–216. Stephenson, F.R., 1997, Historical Eclipses and Earth’s Rotation (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press). Stevens, K, forthcoming, Between Greece and Babylonia: Hellenistic Intellectual History in Cross-Cultural Perspective (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press). Swerdlow, N.M., 1998, The Babylonian Theory of the Planets (Princeton: Princeton University Press).

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Van der Spek, R.J., 1993, “The Astronomical Diaries as a Source for Achaemenid and Seleucid History”, Bibliotheca Orientalis 50, 91–102. Van der Spek, R.J., 2003, “Darius III, Alexander the Great and Babylonian Scholarship”, in W.F.M. Henkelman and A. Kuhrt, A. (eds), A Persian Perspective: Essays in memory of Heleen Sancisi-Weerdenburg (Leiden: Brill), 289–346. Waerzeggers, C., 2012, “The Babylonian Chronicles: Classification and Provenance”, Journal of Near Eastern Studies 71, 285–298. Wiseman, D.J., 1956, Chronicles of Chaldaean Kings (626–556 B.C.) in the British Museum (London: Trustees of the British Museum).

Chapter 1

The Early History of the Astronomical Diaries John Steele 1 Introduction Our understanding of the Astronomical Diary tradition is almost completely reconstructed from examples of Diaries dating from about 400 bce onwards. Whereas many Diaries, as well as the texts that were written in preparation for the production of a Diary and texts that we can show were compiled from the Diaries,1 are preserved from after this period, only a handful of Diaries are known which date to before 400 bce. Indeed, Sachs and Hunger include only seven texts which they date to before 400 bce in their publication of the datable Diaries; one of them (adart i No. -440) has since been re-dated to the year 382 bce,2 and another one (adart i No. -418A) contains excerpts rather than being a Diary proper. The typical description of an Astronomical Diary as containing material covering half a year divided into monthly sections which begin with daily astronomical reports followed by statements of market equivalences, a summary of planetary data, the river level, and selected historical events is based on the post-400 bce evidence, where, even though there are a small number of Diaries which deviate from this pattern, it is essentially an accurate portrayal of what a Diary looks like. The few Diaries from before this date do not fit this description so well, however: some cover a full year, and some integrate historical statements within the daily astronomical reports rather than presenting them in summary form at the end of a monthly section. 1 On the compilation of the Diaries from so-called “Preliminary Observation Reports” and “Short Diaries” in the Seleucid period, see Mitsuma (2015). For the relationship between the Diaries, lunar and planetary compilation texts, Goal Year Texts, and the Almanacs and Normal Star Almanacs, see Hunger (1999), Hunger and Pingree (1999: 139–182), and Gray and Steele (2008). The relationships between these types of texts are explored in greater detail in my forthcoming book (Steele forthcoming c). The vast majority of the Diaries and related texts such as lunar and planetary compilations, Goal Year texts and Almanacs and Normal Star Almanacs are published in the series Astronomical Diaries and Related Texts from Babylonia (Sachs and Hunger 1988, Sachs and Hunger 1989, Sachs and Hunger 1996, Hunger 2001, Hunger 2006, Hunger 2014), abbreviated here to adart. Unless otherwise noted, transliterations and translations are taken from adart. 2 Koch (1991–92).

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���9 | doi:10.1163/9789004397767_003

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Despite, or probably because of, the paucity of early Diaries, the post-400 bce model of what a Diary contains and how one is structured has generally been projected back to the beginning of the Diary tradition. If the Diaries from their beginning were more or less the same as the later Diaries, this would have important implications for our understanding of the development of Babylonian astronomy. For example, Hunger and Pingree write: Particularly stable seem to have been the astronomical data recorded in the Diaries. This is remarkable in several respects: only phenomena which are periodic and therefore capable of being described mathematically are included, and almost all of the phenomena regarded as ­ominous in Enūma Anu Enlil (exceptional are halos around either luminary enclosing planets or constellations) and constantly observed, recorded, and interpreted for the court at Nineveh were assiduously ignored. These features lead us to conclude that the astronomical observations entered into the Diaries—and not only observations but, when they were impossible to make, rough estimates—were intended from the beginning to be the basis of a mathematical, predictive system.3 This beginning has usually been taken to be the start of the reign of Nabonassar in 747 bce. The reasons for assuming that the Diaries began in this year were set out by Sachs in a classic paper published in the Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society in 1974: We have several different reasons to believe that the astronomical diaries began about -750 with the reign of the Babylonian king Nabonassar, a century before the earliest datable piece. From the second century A.D., Ptolemy’s Almagest (book iii, Chapter 7) reports that records of observations (at Babylon) beginning with the reign of Nabonassar were still available. Furthermore, we actually have some fragments of cuneiform tablets from Babylon containing records of lunar eclipses going back roughly to this period. It is all but certain that these eclipse records could have been extracted only from the astronomical diaries. Finally, it is highly significant that the so-called Babylonian Chronicle, a record of historical events, begins with the reign of King Nabonassar since, as we shall see, the astronomical diaries contain historical events.4

3 Hunger and Pingree (1999: 144). 4 Sachs (1974: 44).

The Early History of the Astronomical Diaries

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Thus, the 747 bce date for the beginning of the Diaries rests on three pieces of external evidence: (i) that Ptolemy had access to (or at least knew of) Babylonian records stretching back to this date; (ii) that cuneiform tablets are preserved which contain records of lunar eclipses stretching back to this year, although these are not themselves Diaries; and (iii) that the Diaries are connected with the so-called Babylonian Chronicle series which apparently began in that year. Taken together with the previous statement by Hunger and Pingree that the astronomical content of the Diaries remained more or less stable and that the Diaries were intended from their beginning to provide the source material for the development of a mathematical, predictive astronomy, Sachs’ dating of the beginning of the Diaries to 747 bce would imply that in that year the Diaries were created more or less fully formed, seemingly with no antecedents, for the purpose of developing methods of predicting phenomena which until then had not been regularly observed. Put in these terms, this conclusion seems rather implausible, although it is not impossible that there were earlier texts which have simply not survived or been identified. My aim in this chapter is to reexamine the early history of the Astronomical Diaries. In order to do so, I will draw primarily on evidence from other astronomical texts from Babylonia, most notably texts containing compilations of lunar or planetary observations and predictions dating from the eighth to the sixth century bce. Following an introduction to these texts in Section 2, the chapter is divided into three main parts. In Section 3, I examine the development of observational practice and show that far from being “stable”, the astronomical phenomena which were observed, and the aspects of an observation which were recorded, changed considerably between the middle of the eighth and the middle of the sixth century bce. I then examine in Section 4 the evidence put forward by Sachs in support of the claim that the Diaries started in 747 bce. Finally, in Section 5 I put forward a new model for the development of the Diaries which places their creation in the late seventh or early sixth century bce. 2

Compilations of Lunar and Planetary Observations from the Eighth to the Sixth Century bce

In contrast to the small number of Diaries which pre-date 400 bce, a considerable number of compilations of lunar and planetary observations (and in some cases predictions) containing records dating from the mid eighth century to the sixth century bce (and onwards) are known. Some of these compilations

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extend over several centuries and so were clearly put together significantly after the period of interest to us here (for example, a large compilation of lunar eclipse compilations extending from the mid-eighth to close to the end of the fourth century bce is known). At least in some cases, it would appear that observation reports were rewritten in later compilations using terminology that was current at the time when the compilation was created rather than preserving the terminology of the original reports.5 These updated compilations can still tell us what observations were being made, and with what degree of precision, in the eighth to sixth centuries bce, but must otherwise be treated with caution. Other compilations, however, end within this period and were almost certainly produced not long after the date of the observations they contain.6 These compilations, therefore, provide more or less direct access to contemporary practice of recording astronomical observations. Almost all compilation texts covering the period of interest to us concern a single type of astronomical observation: lunar eclipses, the lunar six, or the synodic phenomena of a single planet. No compilations of solar eclipses are preserved which cover this period, but that may simply be chance.7 Two main styles of compilation texts are known: list compilations and tabular compilations. List compilations present the observations in straightforward chronological sequence on a regularly-formatted cuneiform tablet. Typically, list compilations are divided into sections marked by horizontal rulings with each section containing the observations for a given year. In the case of multicolumn tablets, the section divisions extend only across one column. Tablets containing list compilations turn over their vertical axis and columns on the reverse start on the left. Tablets containing tabular compilations, by contrast, are divided by vertical and horizontal rulings which stretch across the whole side of a tablet, creating a grid-like table or matrix. Each cell of the table contains observations for one year (in the case of planetary compilations), one month (in the case of 5 Steele (forthcoming b). 6 This is especially likely in the case of compilations written on tablets with blank space at the end, such as BM 38462 (adart v No. 6), a compilation of lunar eclipse reports ­covering the first 29 years of the reign of Nebuchadnezzar ii. Although it is possible that BM 38462 is a late copy of an earlier tablet which ended in this year because the scribe ran out of space on the tablet, it is more likely that BM 38462 was compiled shortly after the last entry it contains and ends when it does simply because there were no more records to insert in the compilation. 7 It is possible, but not certain, that the solar eclipse compilation found on BM 71537 (adart v No. 11) may have begun sometime in this early period, but only a small fragment of the tablet covering the fourth century bce is preserved and it is impossible to establish with any confidence the date range covered by the compilation.

23

The Early History of the Astronomical Diaries

lunar six compilations), or one eclipse possibility (in the case of lunar or solar eclipse compilations). Successive entries are given within a column of the table. Moving along the rows of the table, entries are separated by a characteristic p ­ eriod of the planet (e.g., 8 years for Venus, 12 years for Jupiter, 223 months for eclipses). This arrangement allows the repeating pattern of a phenomenon to be quickly seen and for small discrepancies from this pattern to be easily identified. In many tabular compilations, the columns extend from the obverse of the tablet onto the reverse. Thus, we read the first column on the obverse followed by the first column on the reverse followed by the second column on the obverse, and so forth. Some of the tabular lunar eclipse compilations continue the rows onto the reverse rather than the columns. In this case, the tablet turns sideways on its horizontal axis rather than vertically. The content of the known examples of tablets containing list and tabular compilations which cover parts of the eighth to the sixth centuries bce is summarised in Table 1.1. In addition to the list and tabular compilations, a small number of tablets contain mixed material. These tablets are also listed in Table 1.1 Table 1.1

Early compilation texts

Type

Tablet number

Publication

Contents

Date

List

BM 41985

adart v No. 1

Lunar eclipses

List

BM 38462

List?

BM 41536

adart v No. 6 adart v No. 7

Lunar eclipses Lunar eclipses

List

BM 36879

adart v No. 8

Lunar eclipses

Nabonassar acc – 3 (747–744 bce) preserved but originally extending several decades later Nebuchadnezzar 1–29 (604–576 bce) Nebuchadnezzar 41–42 (563–562 bce) preserved but originally extending both earlier and later Cambyses 3–4 (529–526 bce) preserved but originally extending both earlier and later

24 Table 1.1

Steele Early compilation texts (cont’d)

Type

Tablet number

Publication

Contents

List

N.2349

Huber and Lunar six Steele (2007) Text B

List

BM 55554

adart v No. 49

List

BM 38749

Huber and Lunar six Steele (2007) Text C

List?

BM 38856

Huber and Lunar six Steele (2007) Text E

List

HSM 1899.2.112

Britton (2004)

List

BM Walker 76738+76813 (1999)

List

W 23009 (= SpTU v 266)

Lunar six

Mars

Saturn

Steele (2017) Mars

Date Nabopolassar 8–9 (618–617 bce) but originally extending earlier (from Nippur) Nebuchadnezzar 14–25 (591–580 bce) Cambyses 7 – Darius 1 (524–522 bce) preserved but originally extending both earlier and later Darius 5–6 (517–516 bce) preserved but originally extending both earlier and later Šamaš-šumu-ukīn acc – Nebuchadnezzar 39 (668–566 bce) partially preserved but originally extending both earlier and later Kandalānu 1–14 (647–634 bce) preserved but originally extending both earlier and later Nebuchadnezzar 1–14 (604–591 bce) (from Uruk)

25

The Early History of the Astronomical Diaries

Type

Tablet number

Publication

Contents

List

BM 45426

Steele (2019) Saturn

List

W 22797 (= SpTU iv 171)

Hunger (2000)

Saturn

Tabular BM 32238, BM 35115+, BM 32234

adart v Nos. 2, 3, 4

Lunar eclipses

Tabular BM 38414

Huber and Lunar six Steele (2007) Text A

Tabular BM 48644

Steele (2018b)

Lunar six

Tabular BM 50753

adart v No. 48

Lunar six

Date Nebuchadnezzar 19–38 (587–567 bce) partially preserved but originally extending both earlier and later Nebuchadnezzar 28–31 (577–574 bce) preserved but originally extending both earlier and later (from Uruk) Parts of a compilation that originally covered Nabonassar acc to Alexander iv 2 (747–315 bce) Kandalānu 5–7 (643–641 bce) preserved but originally extending both earlier and later Nebuchadnezzar 19–20 (585–584 bce) preserved but originally extending both earlier and later Nabonidus 4 (552 bce) preserved but originally extending both earlier and later

26

Steele

Table 1.1

Type

Early compilation texts (cont'd)

Tablet number

Publication

Contents

Tabular BM 38802

Huber and Lunar six Steele (2007) Text D

Tabular BM 38472

Huber and Lunar six Steele (2007) Text F

Tabular BM 36823

adart v No. 54

Jupiter

Misc.

BM 41222

Misc.

BM 38357

adart v No. 52 adart v No. 5

Misc. planets Misc. planets and lunar eclipses

Misc.

BM 33066

3

adart v No. 55

Date Darius i 3–5 (519–517 bce) preserved but originally extending both earlier and later Darius i 8–10 (514–512 bce) preserved but originally extending both earlier and later Cambyses 3 – Darius i 32 (527–490 bce) preserved but originally extending both earlier and later Seventh century bce

Nabopolassar 15–19 (611–607 bce) preserved but originally extending both earlier and later Lunar six, lu- Cambyses 7–9 nar eclipses, (523–521 bce) planets

The Development of Observational Practice between the Eighth and Sixth Centuries bce

The various compilation texts discussed in the previous section provide the means of reconstructing a fairly detailed history of the development of observational practice during the eighth to the sixth centuries bce. This reconstructed history suggests an increasing level of precision in both making and

The Early History of the Astronomical Diaries

27

recording observations and an expansion of the range of phenomena that were considered worth observing. It is, however, restricted in its scope. The compilation texts are exclusively concerned with three types of cyclical astronomical phenomena: lunar eclipses (and possibly solar eclipses, although no examples are preserved from this period), the lunar six, and the synodic phenomena of the planets. Reports of other astronomical phenomena, in particular irregular astronomical events such as haloes, aurorae, and atmospheric and weather phenomena, which are recorded in the early Diaries, were not gathered into compilations, so their historical development cannot be reconstructed. Notwithstanding this gap in our ability to trace the development of observational practice, the picture that emerges from the observations of cyclical phenomena clearly shows that considerable developments took place between the eighth and the sixth centuries bce. Furthermore, several of these developments seem to cluster within the reigns of the first two Neo-Babylonian kings, ­Nabopolassar and Nebuchadnezzar ii, in the late seventh and early sixth centuries bce. In the following, I will examine developments in the observation of eclipses, the lunar six, and planetary phenomena in turn before highlighting some of the key changes which occurred during the reigns of these two kings. 3.1 Eclipses The earliest reports of eclipse observations – indeed the earliest reports of any astronomical observations – are found on the list compilation BM 41495 (adart v No. 1).8 The preserved part of this tablet contains reports of eclipse possibilities (i.e. both observed and predicted eclipses) dating from the final month of the accession year of Nabonassar to his third year (747–745 bce). However, this represents only a small part of the original tablet, which must have continued with reports for several more decades, and perhaps more than a century. The eclipse observations record the date of the eclipse, the watch of the night in which it occurred, the direction of obscuration, and the direction of the wind that blew during the eclipse. In one case, the duration of the visible phase of the eclipse is also recorded,9 and in another the fact that the eclipse was total is noted. The report of the eclipse in Month xii of Nabonassar’s accession year (6 February 747 bce) is typical: 8 BM 41495 is almost certainly either a copy of an earlier tablet or a compilation made considerably after the events it contains: the standard invocation to Bel and Beltija written on the top edge is generally only found on astronomical tablets written after about 400 bce. 9 This time duration is given as a sexagesimal number without a unit rather than as a quantity with the unit bēru or its subunit UŠ stated. Giving time measurements in the sexagesimal form is characteristic of observational texts written after the middle of the fifth century bce. See Steele (forthcoming b).

28

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MU SAG NAM-LUGAL-LA [x x x] ŠE 5 ITU 14 U4-ZAL GAR ád ⸢x⸣ [x x] Accession year [of Nabonassar.] Month xii, (after) 5 months, the 14th, morning watch, it made (an eclipse) … […] [BM 41495 obv. 1–2] Much more detailed accounts of eclipse observations are found in BM 38462 (adart v No. 6), a list compilation covering the first 29 years of the reign of Nebuchadnezzar ii. For example, the entry for the eclipse in Month vii of his second year (27 October 603 bce) reads as follows: [DU 6 1]4? 1 2/3 KAS 5 UŠ šá-niš 1 1/2 KAS [G]E6 GIN […] 2? [S]AR 1/2 ŠU ina 2 u 4 SAR [ZÁ]LAG [1] 1/2 KAS GAR u ZÁLAG 4 GIN [Month vii, the 1]4th⸣, 1 2/3 bēru 5 UŠ, variant 1 1/2 bēru, after sunset, it began in the […] north; half was covered. In the north and west it began [to cl]ear. [1] 1/2 bēru onset and clearing. The west wind blew. [BM 38462 obv. 4–6] Whereas the earlier report from the time of Nabonassar gave only a rough indication of the time of the eclipse by reference to the watch (one-third of the night), here we find a measurement of the time of the beginning of the eclipse using the unit bēru (= 2 hours) and its subunit UŠ (= 1/30 bēru = 4 minutes).10 In addition, the magnitude of the eclipse, the direction of obscuration, the duration of the eclipse and the direction of the wind which blew during the eclipse are given. For the intervening period, we have to rely on reports of eclipses contained in the large tabular compilation BM 32238, BM 35115+, and BM 32234 (adart v Nos. 2–4). Unfortunately for our purposes, the reports in this compilation have been rewritten to conform to the style of eclipse records at the time when the compilation was produced in the late fourth century bce. In particular, the recorded time intervals have been converted from explicit quantities written in terms of the units bēru and UŠ into sexagesimal numbers with the implied unit UŠ.11 Nevertheless, the reports in this compilation tell us what was observed, even if not how it would have originally been recorded. These reports indicate that by the end of the eighth century bce at the latest, the time that 10

11

In this particular example, the author of the compilation appears to have had two sources for the observation of this eclipse which gave slightly different values for this time. It is unclear whether this reflects observations made by two different observers or whether the author of the compilation had access to two texts containing a report of the same observation, one of which contained a scribal error. Steele (forthcoming a), Steele (forthcoming b).

The Early History of the Astronomical Diaries

29

the eclipse began was usually recorded with a precision of 5 UŠ along with estimates of the magnitude of the eclipse and the approximate entrance angle of the shadow. By the end of Nebuchadnezzar’s reign, the position of the moon relative to a star at the beginning of the eclipse and the duration of the phases of the eclipse were also often included in the report. In addition, the precision of any recorded times increased from 5 UŠ to 1 UŠ. Thus, we can trace a significant development in the practice of eclipse observation from the mid-eighth century down to the mid-sixth century bce.12 3.2 Lunar Six The lunar six are a set of six intervals between the moments when the sun and the moon cross the horizon that were measured each month. The first interval, called NA, is the interval between sunset and moonset on the first day of the month. On the days around full moon in the middle of the month are four intervals: moonset to sunrise (ŠÚ), sunrise to moonset (NA), moonrise to sunset (ME), and sunset to moonrise (GE 6). The sequence of these four intervals will vary from month to month depending upon factors including whether the moment of opposition of the moon and the sun takes place during the day or the night. Finally, the interval between moonrise and sunrise, called KUR, is measured on the morning when the moon can be seen for the last time before its period of invisibility at the end of the month. Both tabular and list compilations of lunar six observations are known which contain reports dating from the middle of the seventh century bce ­onwards. Surprisingly, the earliest reports are almost identical in style and precision to later reports. For example, a typical series of entries from BM 38414 (Huber and Steele 2007 Text A), a tabular compilation dating to the fifth year of Kandalānu (643 bce), reads: [AB] 1 14[+x…] 13 6 ŠÚ 14 7,30 ME 14 6 NA GE 6 15 6 GE 6 [Month x,] The 1st (day of which followed the 30th of the previous month, sunset to moonset:) 14[+x (UŠ)]. The 13th, moonset to sunrise: 6 (UŠ). The 14th, moonrise to sunset: 7;30 (UŠ). 12

See already Huber and De Meis (2004: 8–9).

30

Steele

The 14th, sunrise to moonset: 6 (UŠ). Night of the 15th, sunset to moonrise: 6 (UŠ). [BM 38414 rev. i 12–16] The measured intervals are given as sexagesimal numbers with no unit but can be understood as referring to integers and sixtieths of UŠ. This precision in stating the lunar six intervals to 0;10 UŠ and the style of recording these observations remained constant until the end of cuneiform astronomy. The only differences between the earliest records and the later ones are that reports from the seventh century bce often omit intervals where they could not be observed whereas later records always include a predicted interval, and that records from the seventh and sixth centuries bce sometimes give reports of the intervals on two consecutive days/nights. This practice reflects the difficulty of knowing in advance whether an interval which is getting smaller each day will be measurable for the last time on a given day (for example, the measurement of moonrise to sunrise at the end of the month is meant to take place on the last morning on which the moon is visible, but it may not be obvious whether this has taken place until the moon is not seen on the following morning before sunrise). 3.3 Planetary Synodic Phenomena All of the list or tabular planetary compilation texts are devoted exclusively to the synodic phenomena of a single planet. Five synodic phenomena of the outer planets were recognized by the Babylonians: first appearance in the east, first station, acronychal rising, second station, and last appearance. For the inner planets, four synodic phenomena were recognized: first appearance in the east as a morning star, last appearance in the east, first appearance in the west as an evening star, and last appearance in the west. The stations of the inner planets were only very occasionally observed. Due to the chances of preservation, of the five list compilations known from the period of interest to us, three concern Saturn and two Mars. The single tabular compilation contains records of Jupiter phenomena. There is no reason to suppose, however, that the development of the practice of o­ bserving ­Mercury  and Venus differed significantly to that of these planets, except that Mercury and Venus are inner planets and so exhibit different synodic phenomena to the three outer planets. HSM 1899.2.112 preserves parts of a compilation of Mars data which clearly illustrate the development of planetary observation during the seventh and

The Early History of the Astronomical Diaries

31

sixth centuries bce.13 When complete the tablet contained three columns on each of the obverse and reverse but only parts of the first and the final columns are now preserved. On the obverse we find entries dating to the accession and first ten years of Šamaš-šumu-ukīn (668–657 bce). The reverse preserves entries from years 35 to 39 of Nebuchadnezzar (570–566 bce). The reports from the reign of Šamaš-šumu-ukīn are usually very brief, stating no more than the date on which a phenomenon occurred: MU 8 IZI 20 ŠÚ ŠE 10 IGI Year 8. Month vi, the 20th, last appearance. Month xii, the 10th, first appearance. [HSM 1899.2.112 obv. i 13′] Some entries are recorded as “not observed” (NU ŠEŠ), presumably indicating that the given dates were either estimated when the exact date could not be established due to poor weather conditions or that they were predicted dates. The entries dating to the reign of Šamaš-šumu-ukīn concern only the first and last appearances of the planet: the stations and the acronychal risings are not given. Indeed, in years where the planet would be visible all year long, the year number is simply followed by the phrase “not observed” (NU ŠEŠ), indicating that there was nothing to observe in those years. By contrast, the entries dating to the latter part of the reign of Nebuchadnezzar are considerably more detailed: MU 36 IZI 12 1/2 KÙ[Š ina IGI MUL IGI ?] šá GÌR LU 2 1/2 KÙŠ [ana ULU SIG UŠ] ⸢KIN⸣ 23 ⸢SIG ⸣⸣ [MUL KUR šá DUR nu-nu] E ⸢DU 6⸣ 22 4 KÙŠ ⸢meš-ḫat⸣ [ana ULU] ana ⸢ŠÚ DIB⸣ UŠ 30 ana NIM LAL ŠE DIRI MU 37 SIG 22 ⸢1/2⸣ KÙŠ ⸢ár MUL TUR⸣ [šá] ⸢4⸣ KÙŠ ár [LUGAL] ⸢ŠÚ⸣ Year 36. Month v, the 12th, 1/2 cubi[t in front of the Front? Star] of the Foot of the Hired Man⸣,14 2 1/2 cubits [low to the south, it was stationary.] 13 14

Britton (2004). Britton (2004) corrects GÌR “foot” to SAG “head” and identifies this star as the Front Star of the Head of the Hired Man (β Ari). However, as he notes, on this date Mars was at a significantly lower celestial latitude than 2 1/2 cubits below this star. It seems preferable, therefore, to assume that the text is correct in referring to the “foot” and that it refers to a different star with a lower celestial latitude. The standard list of Normal Stars did not emerge until almost two centuries after the date of this observation and non-standard

32

Steele

Month vi, the 23rd, below [the Bright Star of the Ribbon of the Fishes] acronychal rising. Month vii, the 22nd, 4 cubits measured [to the south] (having) passed to the west, it was stationary. The 30th it moved back to the east. Month xii 2. Year 38. Month iii, the 22nd. 1/2 cubit behind the Small Star [which is] 4 cubits behind [the King], last appearance. [HSM 1899.2.112 rev. 4′–10′] In addition to the dates of the first and last appearances of Mars, here we also have reports of Mars’s first and second stations and its acronychal rising. ­Furthermore, the reports include a statement of the position of the planet relative to a fixed star on the day of the synodic phenomena. Other compilation texts allow us to trace the development of the practice of planetary observation between the two periods preserved on HSM 1899.2.112. BM 76738+76813 preserves Saturn data from the first fourteen years of the reign of Kandalānu (647–634 bce).15 Only first and last appearances of the planet are recorded. Although some of the reports contain only the date of the synodic phenomena, many include statements concerning whether the planet was high and/or bright when it was observed, whether clouds interfered with the observation leading, in some cases, to a predicted or estimated date of the phenomenon, and the position of the planet relative to a star or constellation. W 23009, BM 45426, and W 22797, which preserve reports of Mars or Saturn observations from Nebuchadnezzar ii’s reign all contain observations of the planet’s first and last appearance and its two stations but not its acronychal rising. Like those in the later part of HSM 1899.2.112, these reports usually contain a statement of the position of the planet relative to a star at the time of its synodic phenomena. We can trace, therefore, a significant development in planetary observation from the mid-seventh to the mid-sixth century bce. The earliest planetary observations concern only the dates of the first and last appearances of the

15

stars appear quite frequently in early observational texts. The constellation the Hired Man is usually written MÚL.LÚ.ḪUN.GA or in abbreviated form either ḪUN.GA or ḪUN. The writing LU is found in some texts from the early fourth century bce onwards for the zodiacal sign Aries, which is otherwise written ḪUN. This name for Aries is explained in a uranology text to be the result of philological word-play: LU is a homonym to the determinative LÚ in MÚL.LÚ.ḪUN.GA (Beaulieu, Frahm, Horowitz, and Steele 2018). In these late texts it would appear that LU is to be read UDU “sheep”, referring to Aries in the form of a ram (Steele 2018a). It is unclear here whether LU is used as an abbreviation of the name of the Hired Man or refers to a sheep. Walker (1999).

The Early History of the Astronomical Diaries

33

planet. Gradually, statements of the height and brightness of the planet and its position relative to a star or constellation at the time when it was observed are added. By the beginning of the reign of Nebuchadnezzar ii, reports of observations of the first and second stations of a planet were added to the observation of its first and last appearances. And by the end of his reign, the acronychal rising of the planet was also sometimes (perhaps always) observed. 3.4 Summary It will be clear from the preceding subsections that considerable developments occurred in observational practice between the eighth and the middle of the sixth century bce. These developments concerned the range of phenomena which were regularly observed, the precision with which they were observed and the details of the observation which were recorded. Indeed, it is not until towards the end of Nebuchadnezzar ii’s reign in the mid-sixth century bce that we reach a plateau of development; this continued down to the late fifth century bce when several further developments in observational practice seem to have taken place.16 4

Did the Diaries Begin in 747 bce?

Sachs’ claim that the Diaries started in 747 bce, the first year of the reign of Nabonassar, rests on three arguments: Ptolemy’s claim that Babylonian observations beginning in this year were still available in his time (second century ad), the existence of cuneiform tablets containing reports of lunar eclipses beginning in this year, and the fact that the Babylonian Chronicle begins with Nabonassar’s reign. I will examine these three arguments below in Subsections 4.1–4.3. Before doing so, however, it needs to be noted that Sachs’ claim that the Diaries started with Nabonassar’s reign should be seen in the context of wider claims for a so-called “era of Nabonassar” which postulate that Nabonassar’s reign was seen by the Babylonians themselves as the beginning of a new phase in their history. The strongest claim for the existence of an “era of Nabonassar” has been made by Hallo,17 but the idea in various forms can be traced back to Winckler and Kugler in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries

16 17

See further the discussion in Chapter 5 of my forthcoming book. Hallo (1988) which also contains references to his earlier publications on the topic.

34

Steele

respectively,18 and was discussed by Grayson and others in the 1960s and 70s.19 These claims are in part based upon the same arguments adduced by Sachs for the Diaries. In addition, these authors refer to a passage found in Syncellus which attributes to Berossos (by way of Alexander Polyhistor) a statement that Nabonassar destroyed the records of earlier kings in order that reckoning of the kings would begin with him; a hypothetical reconstruction of the so-called “Saros Tablet” (BM 34576 = adart v No. 34) such that it begins in the first year of Nabonassar (see Section 4.4 below); a spurious claim that there was a major calendar reform under Nabonassar, and an incorrect assumption that the zodiac was invented during Nebonassar’s reign (it was actually developed in the late fifth century bce). None of these arguments are very convincing when subjected to close scrutiny and it seems certain that the so-called “era of Nabonassar” is a modern fiction. Only the Saros Tablet, if it indeed began in the first year of Nabonassar, could have any relevance for our discussion and so I will discuss it in Subsection 4.4 below. Ptolemy’s Claim that Babylonian Observations from 747 bce were Available to Him In Almagest III.7, discussing the mean motion of the sun, Ptolemy writes that he will use: 4.1

the mean motions we have derived to compute back to the beginning of the reign of Nabonassar for the epochs we establish. For that is the era beginning from which the ancient observations are, on the whole, preserved down to our time.20 In this chapter Ptolemy is trying to determine the epoch of the mean motion of the sun for his solar tables. These tables, like all the tables in the Almagest, take as their epoch the beginning of the reign of Nabonassar (more precisely, the beginning of the first year of his reign in Ptolemy’s version of the Egyptian ­calendar, rather than the beginning of the Babylonian year itself). In deriving the parameters of these tables, however, Ptolemy does not use Babylonian observations, nor observations from the time of Nabonassar. Instead, he uses only his own observation of the autumnal equinox in CE 132, projecting back from this observation to the beginning of Nabonassar’s reign by ­applying his 18 19

Winckler (1892), Kugler (1909–1924: 362–371). Grayson (1975: 13). Brinkman (1968: 226–227) argues on the contrary that the era is a modern construct. 20 Ptolemy, Almagest III.7; translation by Toomer (1984: 166).

The Early History of the Astronomical Diaries

35

(­incorrect) correction for precession in order to establish the epoch of the mean position of the sun, and therefore of his tables. Elsewhere in the Almagest, however, Ptolemy uses ten lunar eclipse observations and three planetary observations that were observed in Babylon, although only for the eclipse observations does he make their Babylonian origin explicit.21 The three planetary observations are relatively late in date, all coming from the third century bce. The lunar eclipse observations, by contrast, date from between 721 bce and 382 bce. Ptolemy himself makes use of the seven earliest eclipses, which date from 721 bce to 491 bce; and describes Hipparchus’ use of the final three eclipses, a triplet of three successive eclipses in 383– 382 bce. Although Ptolemy only discusses these ten eclipses, it is clear that he had access to more reports of eclipses observed in Babylon from which he selected these reports to be used in his derivation of the parameters of his lunar theory. In some of these derivations, Ptolemy needed eclipses which fulfilled quite narrow restrictions in terms of magnitude, position relative to a particular node, lunar anomaly, etc. Ptolemy alludes to this issue in Almagest IV.6 in his discussion of the triplet of eclipses he uses to determine the moon’s first anomaly when he remarks that these are “three ancient eclipses which are selected from those observed in Babylon”.22 Furthermore, it is almost certain that Ptolemy used some form of averaging to derive his lunar parameters from a larger corpus of observations than that presented in the Almagest and that he then selected observations from this corpus to present in the Almagest.23 Thus it seems very likely that Ptolemy had access to an extensive, though not necessarily complete, collection of Babylonian observations dating from at least 721–491 bce, and that Hipparchus (at least) had access also to three eclipses dating to the years 383–382 bce. What was Ptolemy’s source for these eclipse records? Ptolemy certainly did not have direct access to the cuneiform records: the style of the observations he cites differs considerably from the original reports, often in ways that make no sense for how Ptolemy will use them. For example, several of the accounts quoted by Ptolemy give the time of the eclipse in seasonal hours, which Ptolemy immediately converts into equinoctial (fixed-length) hours. The original cuneiform reports, however, give the time of the eclipse in UŠ and bēru (equal to 4 minutes and 2 hours respectively), both of which are equinoctial 21 22 23

For a study of the eclipse observations, see Steele (2000a), and for a study of the planetary observations, see Jones (2006). On Ptolemy’s use of historical astronomical data, see also Steele (2004). Toomer (1984: 191). Britton (1992: 151).

36

Steele

units. ­Ptolemy would surely not have converted times expressed in equinoctial units  into seasonal units of time only to then convert them back into ­equinoctial units. Thus Ptolemy’s source must have been an existing Greek compilation of Babylonian eclipse reports which had already transformed the timings into the normal Greek form of seasonal hours. Since we know that Hipparchus also used Babylonian eclipse observations, it has often been assumed that he was responsible for the translation of the Babylonian eclipse reports into Greek,24 but this cannot be proven. Furthermore, it has often been assumed that Hipparchus (or whoever translated the Babylonian eclipse reports) took as his source the Astronomical Diaries.25 There are considerable problems with this assumption, however. First, amassing a translation of a large number of eclipse reports would require consulting several hundred Diaries, which seems a priori implausible. More significantly, however, obtaining Egyptian dates for the eclipses directly from the Diaries would be very challenging: it would, for example, require keeping track of all of the intercalary months and perhaps even all of the month lengths over a period of several centuries. A much more plausible source for the eclipse records is the large tabular compilation partially preserved to us as adart v Nos. 2–4.26 This compilation, arranged into columns separated by one Saros of 223 lunar months, covers the period from 747 bce to 315 bce, which includes the full range of the eclipses known to have been used by Hipparchus and Ptolemy. Furthermore, the structure of the compilation provided the means by which the dates of the eclipses could be converted into the Egyptian calendar.27 It also provided all of the necessary chronological information for Ptolemy to produce the Babylonian part of his Royal Canon, a list of the reigns of kings which acted as the backbone of his (and later) chronology. If Ptolemy’s source for Babylonian eclipse observations was ultimately not the Diaries but a Greek translation of the large tabular compilation of lunar eclipse reports then his remark about the availability of astronomical observations from the beginning of the reign of Nabonassar onwards cannot be taken to imply that the Diaries began in this year but instead that the large eclipse compilation began in this year. Thus, we must consider whether the fact that the large eclipse compilation begins with Nabonassar necessarily implies that the Diaries started in this year as well.

24 25 26 27

See, for example, Toomer (1988). Toomer (1988). Walker (1997), Steele (2004). Steele (2004), Steele (2011).

The Early History of the Astronomical Diaries

37

4.2 Cuneiform Records of Astronomical Observations Starting in 747 bce The earliest dated astronomical observations known to us are a series of lunar eclipse observations beginning with the eclipse of 6 February 747 bce which took place in the final month of Nabonassar’s accession year (BM 41985 = adart v No. 1). It seems almost certain that this same eclipse provided the starting point for the large tabular compilation partially preserved as BM 32238, BM 35115+, and BM 32234 (adart v Nos. 2–4). This compilation is arranged to follow a scheme for predicting eclipse possibilities using the Saros cycle.28 The compilation was put together sometime after 315 bce (the year of the latest eclipse contained in it) but the scheme on which it is based was operating by at least the early sixth century bce. These two sources, therefore, suggest that regular observation of lunar eclipses began in 747 bce. Two caveats to this conclusion must be expressed, however. First, the start date of recorded observations in adart v No. 1 and the large compilation does not guarantee that observations were not made before: other compilations are known which start at later dates, suggesting that the beginning of a compilation is essentially an arbitrary date selected by the author of the compilation for a particular reason that is not always known to us. Secondly, the beginning date of the large eclipse compilation is constrained by the structure of the compilation itself. As already mentioned, this structure is based upon a sixth century bce scheme for predicting eclipses. This scheme can be projected back to the first column of the compilation without contradicting observational evidence. However, two Saros cycles earlier, which corresponds to two columns of the table, the scheme breaks down by failing to predict an eclipse which would have been visible at Babylon. This eclipse could therefore not have been included in the compilation without violating its structure. Thus, this compilation has a natural starting point within a few decades of 747 bce whether or not earlier ­observations were available. These caveats aside, however, it seems likely that it was around 747 bce that observations (at least observations of lunar eclipses) began to be made and recorded on a regular basis.29 These observations must have been recorded 28 29

On this scheme and its connection to the large compilation, see Steele (2000b). Kugler (1909–1924: 368–371) suggests that the occurrence of a conjunction of the moon and the planets Mercury and Mars (with Venus fairly close by as well) on the first day of Nabonassar’s first year may have triggered the beginning of precise astronomical observation. However, on the evidence of adart v No. 1 it is clear that what Kugler took to be the beginning of the first month of this year was actually the beginning of the second month. Kugler also notes in relation to the two lunar eclipses visible during that year that during the first eclipse (2 August 747 bce) the moon was fairly close to Saturn (about 7 degrees separation in longitude) while during the second Jupiter and Mars were both within the

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somewhere in order for them to be copied into the compilation texts. It is not necessary to assume, however, that they were recorded in Astronomical Diaries. It is equally possible that other types of text were written which contained astronomical observations. It is noticeable, for example, that all known records of observations from the eighth and early seventh centuries bce concern events that occur on specific single days at regular but infrequent intervals: lunar eclipses, which can be observed at most once every six months; first and last visibilities of the planets; and conjunctions of two or more planets. It is possible that individual observations of this kind were recorded on separate tablets or on tablets devoted to that specific phenomenon. It is not until the middle of the seventh century bce, when we have records of lunar six observations, that we find observations made on several occasions each month. Thus, it seems unlikely that observations were recorded in a Diary-type text which went night-by-night through a month. The eighth and early seventh century bce evidence for observation, therefore, does not necessarily imply the existence of Diaries at this period. On the contrary, the content of the preserved compilations suggests that only a few selected types of astronomical phenomena were observed and recorded in the eighth and early seventh centuries bce, and that they were not recorded in texts containing night-by-night accounts of astronomical observations—a ­format which is characteristic of the Astronomical Diaries—but rather in other types of texts. The beginning of regular astronomical observation and record keeping is not the same as the beginning of the Astronomical Diary tradition. 4.3 The Babylonian Chronicles The so-called “Babylonian Chronicles” are a group of texts containing annalistic historical accounts written in Babylonia and from a Babylonian p ­ erspective.30 Preserved examples detail events which took place between the mid-eighth and the second century bce, with large gaps in coverage. The texts as a whole share certain characteristics of style and content with the historical sections of the Diaries and the preserved examples from Babylon were almost certainly found in the same archives. A link between the Chronicles and the Diaries was first suggested by Wiseman in 1956:

30

constellation of the Scorpion. It is worth noting that adart v No. 1 does not mention the presence or position of any planets when reporting the observations of these eclipses. Furthermore, the astrological configurations that Kugler identifies are neither especially significant in astrological terms nor particularly rare. It seems unlikely, therefore, that they were responsible for the beginning of regular astronomical observation in Babylon. For the Chronicles in general, see Grayson (1975) and Glassner (2004). Chronicles will be cited by their publication number in Grayson (1975) as abc No. x.

The Early History of the Astronomical Diaries

39

That detailed records were continuous at least from the time of Nebuchadrezzar, and almost certainly from the reign of Nabū-naṣir with whose reign the “Babylonian Chronicle” commences, is shown by the chronicles themselves and by the later class of texts sometimes called astronomical historical diaries. In these, astronomers at Babylon recorded not merely their observation of the heavens but also relevant facts thought to be connected with them, such as prevailing weather conditions, the river level, current prices of staple commodities, and finally the contemporary political events which were sometimes written down in great detail. If these latter observations were not themselves the basis of a progressive historiography they point to the availability of such material.31 Wiseman’s evidence for a link between the Chronicles and the Diaries was ­essentially circumstantial: the two types of text contained similar types of historical material written in the same, rather crabbed, style. Firmer evidence for this link came with Sachs’ claim to have identified BM 32312 (adart i No. 1) as a Diary for the 16th year of Šamaš-šumu-ukīn (652 bce) in part by his being able to “confirm the date by matching up a historical remark in the diary with the corresponding statement for -651 in a well-dated historical chronicle”.32 In his publication of the Chronicles, Grayson developed further the argument for a close connection between the Chronicles and the Diaries, ­claiming that the Diaries were the source for the material in the Neo- and Late ­Babylonian Chronicles.33 Grayson refers to the tradition of a “Nabonassar Era” from which he claims that “the evidence supports the conclusion that detailed records of various things and not just astronomical phenomena were kept from the reign of Nabu-nasir”.34 Most important among these “detailed records of various things”, of course, are the Chronicles themselves. Three copies of a Chronicle covering parts of the reigns of the kings from Nabonassar to Šamaš-šumu-ukīn are preserved (abc Nos. 1A, 1B, and 1C). One of these tablets (abc No. 1A) preserves a colophon indicating that it is the first in a series. Thus, Grayson assumed that the preserved Neo- and Late Babylonian Chronicles were part of a series which began with Nabonassar’s reign. He therefore argues that (i) astronomical observations were compiled from the reign of Nabonassar onwards which implies that (ii) “astronomical diaries (being astronomical records) were diligently written starting with this period”, and (iii) because the 31 32 33 34

Wiseman (1956: 4). Sachs (1974: 48). Grayson (1975: 12–14). Grayson (1975: 13).

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Diaries and the Chronicle series began to be compiled around the same time, this suggests that the Diaries were the source for the Chronicles.35 Grayson’s basic argument as he presents it contains two problematic assumptions— that astronomical records can be equated with the Diaries, and that the co-­existence of Diaries and Chronicles and the link between their contents implies that the Diaries were the source for the Chronicles, rather than the other way around or that they both drew on a common third type of text which is not preserved to us—but these need in themselves not exclude the possibility that his conclusion is correct. However, as pointed out already by Brinkman, there are bigger problems with Grayson’s argument.36 In particular, his conclusion that there existed a Babylonian Chronicle Series is very questionable: the three tablets containing the Chronicle covering parts of the reigns of Nabonassar down to Šamaš-šumu-ukīn (abc Nos. 1A, 1B, and 1C) contain significant variants, and in terms of style and content these Chronicles differ noticeably from the Chronicles covering the reigns of Nabopolassar, Nebuchadnezzar ii, Neriglissar and Nabonidus (abc Nos. 2–7). Furthermore, Waerzeggers has shown that while abc Nos. 1A, 1B, 1C, and 7 were likely written in Babylon, abc Nos. 2–6 were almost certainly composed in Borsippa.37 Thus, there was no “Babylonian Chronicle series” beginning at the start of Nabonassar’s reign. Secondly, the case for direct dependence of the Chronicles on the Diaries is also weak. For example, Brinkman has shown that the two parallel accounts of the battle of Ḫirītu in what Sachs takes to be a Diary (adart i No. -651) and in Chronicle abc No. 16 diverge in phrasing and content to an extent that excludes the possibility of the latter text being based directly upon the former.38 Recent scholarship has tended to agree with Brinkman that the Diaries were not the direct source of the Chronicles.39 35 36 37 38 39

Grayson (1975: 13). Brinkman (1990). Waerzeggers (2012). Brinkman (1990: 96). For example, Glassner (2004: 46–47) writes: “diaries could, at best, have been one of the potential sources of the chronicles, but certainly not the only one”. See also Waerzeggers (2012: 298), who highlights the problem of the Chronicles coming from Borsippa and the Diaries from Babylon, and Gerber (2000: 568), who postulates another type of “astrological compendia” (not the Diaries) to have been the source for the Chronicles. He further suggests that “since both the astrological source texts and the diaries depend on the same kind of observational and historical information, they may themselves have been compiled from a (very heterogeneous) source common to both, possibly the hypothetical ‘running account of Mesopotamian history’”. Neither Gerber’s “astrological source texts” nor the “hypothetical running account of Mesopotamian history” are attested, which makes Gerber’s conclusion highly unlikely. Van der Spek (2008: 286) suggests

The Early History of the Astronomical Diaries

41

If we can no longer be certain that the Chronicles formed a series beginning at the start of Nabonassar’s reign (and it is important to note that abc 1A, which has usually been taken as evidence for such a series, starts in either the second or third year of his reign, not his accession year), or that the Chronicles drew upon the Diaries for their material, then they cannot be used as evidence that the Diaries began to be written in 747 bce at the start of Nabonassar’s reign. 4.4 The “Saros Tablet” The so-called “Saros Tablet” (BM 34579 = adart v No. 34) contains a list of regnal years each separated by 18 years from the previous entry accompanied by the number “18” at the end of each line.40 The interval of 18 years between lines corresponds to the length of the Saros eclipse period. More precisely, the Saros contains 223 lunar months, which corresponds to either 18 Babylonian calendar years or 18 calendar years plus one month depending upon the number of intercalary months in the intervening years. The tablet as preserved contains on the obverse entries running from the 38th year of Nebuchadnezzar ii (567 bce) to the 69th year of the Seleucid Era (243 bce) and on the reverse entries for the 87th (225 bce) to the 213th year of the Seleucid Era (99 bce). The list of years on the reverse omits the name Seleucus, probably because the scribe thought it superfluous to keep repeating it. Year numbers greater than 59 in the Seleucid Era are written sexagesimally, a practice that is quite common in astronomical texts.41 The list of years ends roughly two thirds of the way down the reverse of the tablet. Following a blank space equivalent in size to about three lines of text, a report of an eclipse observation has been written at right angles. The signs used to record this eclipse are significantly less impressed in the clay than the main text on the tablet, suggesting that it was added at a slightly later date, perhaps by a scribe who simply needed somewhere to take notes and had this tablet to hand. The upper part of the tablet, which would contain the first few entries in the list of years on the obverse and part of the added eclipse report on the reverse, is lost. Thus we do not know exactly when the list began. Oppert, however,

40

41

that although the Diaries were not the direct source for the Chronicles, the two types of text were likely made by the same group of scholars and so naturally overlap in style and content. The tablet was first identified and discussed by Pinches (1884: 202–204) who recognized that the years refer to a lunar cycle. The tablet was subsequently published and/or discussed by Strassmaier (1892), Oppert (1893), Strassmaier (1893), Oppert (1897), Kugler (1909–1924: 364), and, more recently, Boiy (2001) and Hunger (2001: 84–87 and 394). Steele (forthcoming a).

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r­ecognized that if the pattern of 18 year intervals is extended backward ten steps we will reach the first year of Nabonassar (747 bce).42 Kugler therefore took this tablet to be further evidence for the beginning of Nabonassar’s reign as the starting point for regular astronomical observation.43 Thus, the dates given on the Saros Tablet would correspond to the years of the eclipse possibilities in a Saros series beginning with the eclipse of 6 February 747 bce (corresponding to row 1 in the reconstructed Saros eclipse scheme shown in Table 1.2 of Steele 2000b). However, there are two problems with this conclusion. First, it is highly unlikely that as many as ten lines are lost from the beginning of the tablet. A missing ten lines would imply that slightly less than two thirds of the tablet remains. But if we imagine that that was the case then we would have an extremely long and thin tablet. Indeed, from looking at photographs of the tablet, I would be surprised if more than two or three lines are missing at the beginning.44 Secondly, the Saros cycle is not exactly 18 Babylonian calendar years. As noted above, sometimes it is 18 years plus one month. This means that eclipse possibilities in a Saros series gradually move through the months of the year, moving to the next month after about three eclipses in the series. As a consequence, once the month of the eclipse has moved through the whole of the year, after about 36 cycles, there will be a one-off change in the calendar year of the eclipse by 19 rather than 18 years. Significantly, for the eclipse possibilities corresponding to the years in the Saros Tablet, a change of 19 rather than 18 years occurs after SE 213 (99 bce): the eclipse in this series that year takes place in Month xii 2 and the next eclipse would be in month i of SE 232 (80 bce), which is 19 years after SE 213. It is surely not a coincidence, therefore, that SE 213 is the last entry on the Saros Tablet. A similar 19-year interval in the calendar year of eclipse possibilities would take place between the eclipse in Month i of year 11 of Šamaš-šumu-ukīn (657 bce) and the eclipse possibility in Month xii 2 of year 6 of Esarhaddon (676 bce). It seems likely, therefore, that the scheme on the Saros Tablet stretched from year 11 of Šamaš-šumu-ukīn to SE 213.45 The Saros Tablet cannot, as a consequence, be used to argue that Nabonassar’s reign marked the beginning of an era.

42 43 44

45

Oppert (1897: 158–159). Kugler (1909–1924: 364). Kugler does allow that a starting date for the Saros Tablet of 747 bce might just be chance, however. Grayson (1975: 196) was evidently aware of this problem, but wishing to maintain that the scheme began in 747 bce he suggested that the tablet was either preceded by another tablet to make a short series or that the tablet is an extract from a longer tablet that extended back to 747 bce. Neither of Grayson’s suggestions seems plausible to me. Steele in Hunger (2001: 394).

The Early History of the Astronomical Diaries

5

43

A New Model for the Early History of the Astronomical Diaries

As I have shown in the preceding section, there is no evidence which unambiguously supports the commonly held assumption that the practice of producing Astronomical Diaries began at the start of Nabonassar’s reign in 747 bce. Furthermore, what we can reconstruct of the development in observational practice between the mid-eighth and the early sixth century bce suggests that if someone had tried to produce an Astronomical Diary in the eighth or early seventh century bce they would not have had much material to include in the Diary. It seems more likely, therefore, that the practice of recording astronomical observations developed over time alongside the development of observational practice itself. In order to attempt to reconstruct this development in astronomical record-keeping I will use two complementary approaches: one looks at the texts that have been identified by previous scholars as Diaries from this early period to see how they change over time, and the other compares these early Diaries with other texts containing observations from this period. One challenge we will face is how to define what makes a text a Diary. Must a tablet self-identify as a Diary using the term EN-NUN šá gi-né-e šá, “Regular watching of”, followed by a statement of the time period covered by the Diary? Or is it sufficient that a text shares characteristics with texts which self-identify as Diaries? And if so, how similar must the texts be? Unless we imagine that Diaries appeared from nowhere fully formed we must expect that over the course of their development we will have a spectrum of texts running from those which share only very limited characteristics with self-identifying later Diaries, to those which share a reasonable number of characteristics with Diaries, which we can perhaps think of as “proto-Diaries”, to texts which are very like later Diaries but which do not self-identify as “Regular watching of”, to fully formed and self-identifying Diaries. Over time we would expect the preserved texts to move along this spectrum from texts that are not really Diaries, to proto-Diaries, to more or less fully formed Diaries, to self-identifying Diaries, although this general chronological scheme will not necessarily hold for every text. 5.1 The Published Pre-400 bce Diaries Only five texts dating to before 400 bce have been published as Diaries.46 In this section I will examine each of these texts in reverse chronological order. For comparison, texts dating to after 400 bce will be taken to be paradigmatic 46

This number excludes adart i No. -418A which is an excerpt text and No. -440 which Koch (1991–92) has redated to year 23 of Artaxerxes ii (382 bce).

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of what a fully formed Diary looks like. Only two of the five pre-400 bce texts self-identify as Diaries: adart i Nos. -418B (vat 4936) and -453 (vat 5047). adart i No. -418B is a Short Diary covering only one month, Month viii, in the 5th year of Darius ii (419 bce). Less than half of the tablet remains, but from what is preserved the contents and style of the text are very similar to post-400 bce Diaries. No. -453 is a Diary for Month iii to Month x of the 11th year of Artaxerxes i (454 bce). Unfortunately, the tablet is very badly damaged (as was the original from which this tablet was copied, judging by the references to “breaks” (ḫe-pí) in the text), but from what little is preserved it also appears to be a fully formed Diary, despite its unusual chronological span (most Diaries cover either the first or the second half of the year or occasionally a whole year). adart i No. -463 (W 20030/142), one of only two Diaries to have been found on tablets from Uruk, covers an unknown number of months in year 1 of Artaxerxes i (464 bce). Only parts of the sections of two consecutive months are preserved, but what remains seems to be a fully formed Diary. Unfortunately, the beginning and the end of the tablet and its edges, where we would expect to find the name of the text written, are lost, so we cannot be sure whether the text self-identified as a Diary. Nevertheless, it would appear that by the fifth century bce, texts that were recognizably Diaries, and which bore this name, were being written. Only one Diary is known from the sixth century bce: adart i No. -567 (vat 4956). This Diary covers the whole of year 37 of Nebuchadnezzar ii (568 bce). The text is written on what was originally a two-column tablet, but only parts of the first column on the obverse and the last column on the reverse are preserved. Fortunately, these columns are sufficiently well preserved to allow the contents and style of the text to be examined in detail. The contents of the text are very similar to the later Diaries (see table 1.2): all of the basic astronomical observations found in the later Diaries are reported in No. -567, although not always systematically (i.e., not every occasion on which these phenomena occur is recorded), and a few other phenomena such as haloes and r­ ainbows which are only rarely found in later Diaries are occasionally recorded; the four “summary” sections at the end of later Diaries dealing with market equivalences, the positions of the planets, the river level, and historical events are ­included, although the planetary summary is given at the beginning of the month rather than at the end and historical events are sometimes given at the end of the month and sometimes within the daily section.47 The text begins and ends 47

Although historical events are usually given in the summary section at the end of a month in most post-400 bce Diaries, there are a few exceptions where they are inserted within the daily section.

45

The Early History of the Astronomical Diaries Table 1.2

A comparison of adart i Nos. -651 and -567 with later Diaries

Contents

Later diary

adart i No. -567

adart i No. -651

Lunar six Moon – Normal Star or planet passages Planet – Normal Star passages Planetary conjunctions Planetary synodic phenomena Eclipses Solstices and equinoxes Other astronomical phenomena

Yes Yes

Yes Yes

No No

Yes

Yes

No

Yes

Yes

Yes

Yes

Yes

Yes

Yes Yes

Yes Yes

Yes No

Rare

Rainbows, aurorae, haloes (occasional) Market equivalences At the end of the At the end of the month month Planetary summary At the end of the At the ­beginning month of the month River level At the end of the At the end of the month month Historical events At the end of the At the end of the month month / in the daily section Title “Regular ­Watching Year for (date range)”

Haloes (often), rainbows, Sun in clouds No No In the daily section In the daily section None

with a title which is simply the date covered by the text (“Year 37 of Nebuchadnezzar”, also written on the left edge of the tablet) and is effectively an abbreviated version of the standard title of a later Diary, omitting the phrase “Regular watching of” before the date. Thus, while the text does not strictly speaking identify itself as a Diary, its contents, structure, and title are very similar to later Diaries. We can, therefore, confidently describe No. -567 as a Diary, even if it is not quite a fully formed one.

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The situation is somewhat different with adart No. -651 (BM 32312). When complete, this text covered the whole of the 16th year of Šamaš-šumu-ukīn (652 bce). The presence of the standard invocation on the top edge of the tablet suggests that the tablet itself was almost certainly copied after 400 bce, but there is no reason to think that the text was composed significantly later than the date of the observations it contains. Comparing adart i No. -651 to both the later Diaries and No. -567, we see considerable differences in content and arrangement (see table 1.2): No. -651 does not report observations of many of the commonly recorded phenomena such as the lunar six, passages of the moon or a planet past the Normal Stars, or solstices and equinoxes, but instead frequently records haloes and other transient phenomena which are only rarely recorded in the later material. In addition, No. -651 does not include the market equivalences or planetary summary, and statements about the river level or historical events are mixed in amongst astronomical observations in the daily section rather than being recorded separately in the summary section at the end of each month. Furthermore, it is clear that the text does not have a title.48 Although No. -651 exhibits some similarities with No. -567 and later Diaries, both its contents and its format differ considerably from these texts, so much so that I do not think we should call No. -651 a Diary. At most it is a proto-Diary, and one that seems to be quite far away from being what we can recognize as a Diary. Other Types of Texts Containing Astronomical Observations Written before the Middle of the Sixth Century bce From the preceding analysis it would seem that what we think of as the Astronomical Diaries did not yet exist in the middle of the seventh century but had developed into something that was very close to the standard form of the Diaries by the latter part of Nebuchadnezzar ii’s reign. In order to explore this development, I now turn to other texts containing astronomical observations which seem to have been written during the seventh and early sixth centuries bce. As we have already seen, at least two compilations of lunar eclipse observations were probably put together during this period (adart v Nos. 1, 6, and 7), along with several compilations of planetary observations (adart v No. 52, BM 76738+, W 23009, BM 45426, and W 22797), and at least two collections of lunar six data (N.2349 and adart v No. 49). In addition, a text c­ ontaining a mixture of eclipse and planetary observations with some accounts of historical events is preserved from this period (BM 38357 = adart v no. 5). These various compilations demonstrate that there was an interest during the late seventh 5.2

48

We can be certain of this because the beginning and end of the tablet and its left edge are preserved.

The Early History of the Astronomical Diaries

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and early sixth centuries bce in gathering together astronomical observations. The sources of those observations are unfortunately unknown. One of these texts may throw particular light on the development of the Diary tradition. adart v No. 5 contains reports of observations of the synodic phenomena of the planets, lunar eclipses, and lunar haloes for the 15th to the 19th year of Nabopolassar (611–607 bce).49 The entries are presented in chronological order with horizontal rulings separating the sections for each year. I­nterspersed between the astronomical observations are brief remarks describing historical events. These events are also mentioned in the Chronicles abc Nos. 3 and 4. As with the case of the overlapping events described in adart i No. -651 and abc No. 16, the descriptions in adart v No. 5 differ considerably from the accounts in abc Nos. 3 and 4. The significance of adart v No. 5 for us, however, is that it combines astronomical observations with historical events in a straightforward chronological account. The observations recorded are of the same kind as many of the observations included in adart i No. -651. Indeed, we could see adart v No. 5 as being a similar type of text to adart i No. -651—a chronological record of selected astronomical observations and accounts of historical events—the only difference being that the ­former text contains data for a five-year period whereas adart i No. -651 covers only one year. Like adart i No. -651, adart v No. 5 does not appear to include reports of the river level, although the tablet on which this text is written is poorly preserved and it is possible that river level measurements appeared in parts of the text that are now lost to us. Thus we know of two seventh century texts which combine astronomical and historical reports in a straightforward chronological presentation: adart i No. -651 and adart v No. 5. The Development of the Astronomical Diaries in the Seventh and Early Sixth Centuries bce Although we are still hampered by the paucity of preserved examples of early Diaries and related texts, on the basis of the preceding discussion it is now possible to offer a new reconstruction of the development of observational astronomy, astronomical record-keeping, and the Astronomical Diary tradition. This history begins in the middle of the eighth century bce with the first recorded observations of lunar eclipses. These observations were fairly crude and the terminology used for recording them had not yet been standardised. By the middle of the seventh century, we find in addition to observations of lunar eclipses those of planetary conjunctions, planetary synodic phenomena, and the lunar six preserved in compilation texts, although the full range of synodic 5.3

49

The tablet is itself a copy (as indicated by the remarks about breaks in the original) of a text that was presumably written close to the time it concerns.

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phenomena was apparently not observed on a regular basis until late in the reign of Nebuchadnezzar ii in the sixth century. It was also under Nebuchadnezzar that scholars standardised the way in which they observed eclipses and planetary movements (in particular what aspects of a phenomenon were observed and with what degree of precision). At this point, the terminology used to record those observations reached a fixed form that continued for roughly one hundred and fifty years without any significant further development. We unfortunately know nothing about how the earliest observations were originally recorded, because they are only preserved to us in later compilations. But by the middle of the seventh century we find evidence for the c­ omposition of texts which contain records of astronomical observations together with brief accounts of historical events presented in a straightforward chronological format covering one or more years. These texts point to an interest on the part of the Babylonian scholars in presenting astronomical and historical ­material in what can be thought of as an annalistic framework. These annalistic texts include the full range of astronomical phenomena that were being observed, rather than gathering successive observations of single ­astronomical phenomena together for study or presenting accounts of single astronomical observations of ominous significance as part of divinatory practice. They can be seen as the first step in the process which led to the creation of the ­Astronomical Diaries. What is usually assumed to be the earliest extant Diary (adart i No. -651) can be better understood as one of these annalistic texts combining astronomical and historical material. From a modern perspective we can think of these texts as being proto-Diaries out of which the Diary tradition developed. A more or less fully formed Diary is first attested towards the end of the reign of Nebuchadnezzar ii (adart i No. -567, covering Nebuchadnezzar ii’s 37th year (568 bce)). This text displays almost all the characteristics of style and content of the later Diaries: the full range of astronomical phenomena found in the later Diaries is included, river level and market equivalences are added to the astronomical and historical information, and the text bears a title which looks like a shorter version of what would become the standard title for a Diary. Thus, it would appear that the Diary as a specific type of text was created sometime between the middle of the seventh century and 568 bce. The exact date within this time range remains uncertain. However, circumstantial evidence points towards a date during the reign of Nebuchadnezzar ii. adart v No. 5, which covers the 15th to the 19th year of Nabopolassar (611–607 bce) and shares similarities with adart i No. -651, might suggest that the Diaries did not yet exist at this time, although we cannot exclude the possibility that this text was either compiled from, or existed alongside, the Diaries. More

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convincing evidence comes from the fact that (i) it was under the reign of Nebuchadnezzar ii that astronomical observation itself became fully developed and systematic, and (ii) several compilations of observations were made under his reign. Taken together, these two points suggest that there was considerable interest at this time both in observation itself and in how observations were recorded. It seems likely that the creation of the Diaries as a particular form of observational text was part of this interest in the development of systematic forms of making and recording astronomical observations. This new understanding of the development of the Astronomical Diaries has several important implications. For the history of Babylonian astronomy it means that we cannot assume that records of observations of many types of astronomical phenomena that are found in later Diaries were available before the early sixth century bce, which has particular significance for attempts to reconstruct the empirical foundation of astronomical theories. Nor can we attempt to understand the relationship between seventh century Assyrian and Babylonian astral science on the basis of comparison between the astronomical content of the letters and reports sent to the Assyrian king and the Diaries, since our notion of the Diaries at that time turns out to be an unjustified projection of later tradition into the seventh century. For our understanding of Babylonian “history writing”, we cannot assume that the Diaries provided the material for the Chronicles, or that the Diaries existed as an alternative way of recording history in the eighth and seventh centuries bce. And for the history of Babylonian scholarship more generally, we now have clear evidence from the astronomical material that this was not a uniform or stable tradition during the last eight centuries bce but rather a diverse range of practices which was continually developing over time. References Beaulieu, P.-A., E. Frahm, W. Horowitz, and J.M. Steele, 2018, The Cuneiform Uranology Texts: Drawing the Constellations (Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society). Boiy, T., 2001, “Dating Problems in Cuneiform Tablets concerning the Reign of Antigonus Monophthalmus”, Journal of the American Oriental Society 121, 645–649. Brinkman, J.A., 1968, A Political History of Post Kassite-Babylonia: 1158–722 B.C. (Rome: Pontificium Institutum Biblicum). Brinkman, J.A., 1990, “The Babylonian Chronicle Revisited”, in T. Abusch, J. Huehnergard, and P. Steinkeller (eds), Lingering Over Words: Studies in Ancient Near Eastern Literature in Honor of William L. Moran (Atlanta: Scholars Press), 73–104.

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Britton, J.P. 1992, Models and Precision: The Quality of Ptolemy’s Observations and Parameters (New York: Garland). Britton, J.P., 2004, “An Early Observational Text for Mars: HSM 1899.2.112 (=HSM 1490)”, in C. Burnett, J.P. Hogendijk, K. Plofker & M. Yano (eds), Studies in the History of the Exact Sciences in Honour of David Pingree (Leiden: Brill), 33–55. Gerber, M., 2000, “A Common Source for the Late Babylonian Chronicles Dealing with the Eighth and Seventh Centuries”, Journal of the American Oriental Society 120, 553–569. Glassner, J.-J., 2004, Mesopotamian Chronicles (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature). Gray, J.M.K. and J.M. Steele, 2008, “Studies on Babylonian Goal-Year Astronomy I: A Comparison between Planetary Data in Goal-Year Texts, Almanacs and Normal Star Almanacs”, Archive for History of Exact Sciences 62, 553–600. Grayson, A.K., 1975, Assyrian and Babylonian Chronicles (Locust Valley: J.J. Augustin). Hallo, W.W., 1988, “The Nabonassar Era and Other Epochs in Mesopotamian Chronology and Chronography”, in E. Leichty, M. deJ. Ellis and P. Gerardi (eds), A Scientific Humanist: Studies in Memory of Abraham Sachs (Philadelphia: The University of Pennsylvania Museum), 175–190. Huber, P.J. and S. de Meis, 2004, Babylonian Eclipse Observations from 750 BC to 1 BC (Milan: Mimesis). Huber, P.J. and J.M. Steele, 2007, “Babylonian Lunar Six Tablets”, SCIAMVS 8, 3–36. Hunger, H., 1999, “Non-Mathematical Astronomical Texts and Their Relationships”, in N.M. Swerdlow (ed.), Ancient Astronomy and Celestial Divination (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press), 77–96. Hunger, H., 2000, “Saturnbeobachtungen aus der Zeit Nebukadnezars II”, in J. M ­ arzahn, H. Neumann and A. Fuchs (eds), Assyriologica et Semitica: Festschrift für Joachim Oelsner anläßlich seines 65. Geburtstages am 18. February 1997 (Münster: Ugarit-­ Verlag), 189–192. Hunger, H., 2001, Astronomical Diaries and Related Texts from Babylonia. Volume v: Lunar and Planetary Texts (Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften). Hunger, H., 2006, Astronomical Diaries and Related Texts from Babylonia. Volume VI: Goal Year Texts (Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften). Hunger, H., 2014, Astronomical Diaries and Related Texts from Babylonia. Volume VII: Almanacs and Normal Star Almanacs (Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften). Hunger, H., and D. Pingree, 1999, Astral Sciences in Mesopotamia (Leiden: Brill). Jones, A., 2006, “Ptolemy’s Ancient Planetary Observations”, Annals of Science 63, 255–290. Koch, J., 1991–92, “Zu einigen astronomischen ‘Diaries’”, Archiv für Orientforschung 38–39, 101–109. Kugler, F.X., 1909–1924, Sterndkunde und Sterndienst in Babel. II (Münster in Westfalen: Aschendorffsche Verlagsbuchhandlung).

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Mitsuma, Y., 2015, “From Preliminary Diaries to Short Diaries: The First and Second Steps in the Compilation Process of the Late Babylonian Astronomical Diaries”, SCIAMVS 16, 53–73. Oppert, J., 1893, “La fixation exacte de la chronologie des derniers rois de Babylone”, Zeitschrift für Assyriologie 8, 56–74. Oppert, J., 1897, “Die Schaltmonate bei den Babyloniern und die ägyptische-­chaldäische Ära des Nabonassar”, Zeitschrift der Deutschen Morgenländischen Gesellschaft 51, 138–165. Pinches, T.G., 1884, “The Babylonian Kings of the Second Period, about 2232 B.C., to the end of the existence of the Kingdom”, Proceedings of the Society of Biblical Archaeology 6, 193–204. Sachs, A., 1974, “Babylonian Observational Astronomy”, Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society of London, Series A 276, 43–50. Sachs, A. and H. Hunger, 1988, Astronomical Diaries and Related Texts from Babylonia. Volume i: Diaries from 652 B.C. to 262 B.C. (Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften). Sachs, A. and H. Hunger, 1989, Astronomical Diaries and Related Texts from Babylonia. Volume II: Diaries from 261 B.C. to 165 B.C. (Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften). Sachs, A. and H. Hunger, 1996, Astronomical Diaries and Related Texts from Babylonia. Volume III: Diaries from 164 B.C. to 61 B.C. (Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften). van der Spek, R.J., 2008, “Berossus as a Babylonian Chronicler and Greek Historian”, in R.J. van der Spek (ed.), Studies in Ancient Near Eastern World View and Society Presented to Marten Stol on the Occasion of his 65th Birthday (Bethesda: Eisenbrauns), 277–318. Steele, J.M., 2000a, “A Re-analysis of the Eclipse Observations in Ptolemy’s Almagest”, Centaurus 42, 89–108. Steele, J.M., 2000b, “Eclipse Prediction in Mesopotamia”, Archive for History of Exact Sciences 54, 421–454. Steele, J.M., 2004, “Applied Historical Astronomy: An Historical Perspective”, Journal for the History of Astronomy 35, 337–355. Steele, J.M., 2011, “Visual Aspects of the Transmission of Babylonian Astronomy and its Reception into Greek Astronomy”, Annals of Science 68, 453–465. Steele, J.M., 2017, “A Text Containing Observations of Mars from the time of Nebuchadnezzar II”, in J.M. Steele and M. Ossendrijver (eds), Studies on the Ancient Exact Sciences in Honor of Lis Brack-Bernsen (Berlin: Edition Topoi), 67–78. Steele, J.M., 2018a, “The Development of the Babylonian Zodiac: Some Preliminary Observations”, Mediterranean Archaeology and Archaeometry, 18/4, 97–105. Steele, J.M., 2018b, “A Lunar Six Compendium from the Reign of Nebuchadnezzar II: BM 48644”, NABU 2018/3, 129–130.

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Steele, J.M., 2019, “An Early Compilation of Saturn Observations from Babylon”, Journal for the History of Astronomy 50, 31–45. Steele, J.M., forthcoming a, “Description, Calculation, Measurement: Different Uses of Numbers and Quantities in Babylonian Astronomy”, in K. Chemla, M. Husson, A. Keller and C. Proust (eds), Mathematical Practices in the Context of the Astral Sciences (Dordrecht: Springer), in press. Steele, J.M., forthcoming b, “Short Time in Mesopotamia”, in K. Miller and S. Symons (eds), Down to the Hour (Leiden: Brill), in press. Steele, J.M., forthcoming c, Astronomy in Babylonia, in preparation. Strassmaier, J.N., 1892, “Einige chronologische Daten aus astronomischen Rechnungen”, Zeitschrift für Assyriologie 7, 197–204. Strassmaier, J.N., 1893, “Zur Chronologie der Seleuciden”, Zeitschrift für Assyriologie 8, 106–113. Toomer, G.J., 1984, Ptolemy’s Almagest (London: Duckworth). Toomer, G.J., 1988, “Hipparchus and Babylonian Astronomy”, in E. Leichty, M. deJ. Ellis and P. Gerardi (eds), A Scientific Humanist: Studies in Memory of Abraham Sachs (Philadelphia: University Museum), 353–362. Waerzeggers, C., 2012, “The Babylonian Chronicles: Classification and Provenance”, Journal of Near Eastern Studies 71, 285–298. Walker, C.B.F., 1997, “Achaemenid Chronology and the Babylonian Sources”, in J. Curtis (ed.), Mesopotamia and Iran in the Persian Period: Conquest and Imperialism 539–331 BC (London: The British Museum Press), 17–25. Walker, C.B.F., 1999, “Babylonian Observations of Saturn During the Reign of Kandalanu”, in N.M. Swerdlow (ed.), Ancient Astronomy and Celestial Divination (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press), 61–76. Winckler, H., 1892, Geschichte Babyloniens und Assyriens (Leipzig: Eduard Pfeiffer). Wiseman, D.J., 1956, Chronicles of Chaldaean Kings (626–556 B.C.) in the British Museum (London: The British Museum).

Chapter 2

Babylonian Market Predictions Mathieu Ossendrijver During the Neo- and Late Babylonian periods (ca. 650 bce – 50 ce), Babylonian scholars systematically recorded market rates along with astronomical, meteorological and historical data in the Astronomical Diaries and related texts. Within that same period of time they also formulated astrological procedures for predicting market rates. These procedures are analysed and c­ ompared here with market predictions made in earlier celestial divination and with implicit evidence for market predictions within the Astronomical Diaries and related texts themselves. In this connection the question of why market rates were included in the Astronomical Diaries is also addressed. 1

Market Predictions in Mesopotamian Divination

The earliest known Mesopotamian predictions of market phenomena are found in omen texts. Mesopotamian omens are statements of the kind “When X, (then) Y” (šumma X Y), where X, the protasis, describes a phenomenon, and Y, the apodosis, a prediction. Apodoses with market predictions are scattered across several divinatory compositions, including the celestial omen series Enūma Anu Enlil, “When Anu and Enlil”, and Šumma Sîn ina tāmartīšu, “When Sîn at his appearance”, the extispicy series Bārûtu, the hemerological series Iqqur īpuš, “He tore down; he built”, and the terrestrial omen series Šumma ālu, “If a city”. All of these compositions contain omens with very similar market predictions in their apodoses. They are typically surrounded by predictions concerning the harvest, famine, natural catastrophes, plagues, war and peace, uprisings, and the well-being of the king. Market predictions were most often inferred from celestial signs and extispicy signs, the main exception being Šumma ālu, where they are inferred from events in the city.1 Note that market 1 E.g. Tablet 1, 118–120: “If date contractors / tapsters / […] are numerous in the city, the market rate will diminish”; 191: “If, before the daises of my city, a dog yelps, the market rate will diminish”; Tablet 2, 25: “If a white partridge is seen in the city, the market rate will diminish; destruction of Adab” (Freedman 1998); Tablet 61, 163: “If there is kuštu-rush in the moat of a city, the market rate in that city will diminish” (Freedman 2017).

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���9 | doi:10.1163/9789004397767_004

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phenomena are not attested in protases, i.e. they were not, as far as we know, treated as ominous signs and subjected to divinatory interpretation. This is surprising, since Mesopotamian divination essentially covers all realms of nature and culture, with a tendency to omit nothing; perhaps the apparent ­absence of market omens is only an accident of preservation. The key term used in the market predictions is maḫīru (KI.LAM),2 which has three main meanings: “market(place)”, “business, commerce”, and “market rate, equivalent”. Since this word also appears in the Babylonian Astronomical Diaries and procedure texts about market phenomena, its usage in the omen texts is briefly explored here. Most of the apodoses mentioning this word are simple predictions of the kind “the maḫīru will increase” (išaqqi), “flourish” (inappuš), “be stable” (ikân), “be prosperous” (iššer), “become smaller” (iṣeḫḫer), or “decrease” (imaṭṭi), or “the land will experience a favourable (damqu) maḫīru”.3 In these phrases maḫīru is usually translated as “business; commerce”. However, “market rate” fits the context equally well and is probably the intended meaning.4 An increase was favourable and a decrease unfavourable, as may be deduced from the protases and from other predictions that sometimes accompany the market predictions. The same applies to market rates, as is proven by omens with quantitative predictions of the maḫīru, in which the term can only mean “market rate”. For example, bm 35045+46236 is a Late Babylonian copy of Enūma Anu Enlil Tablet 63(?), which contains Jupiter omens, including the following five about market rates:5 (obv. 19) [DIŠ mulSAG.ME.GAR ana S]AG mulGIR 2.TAB ik-ta-šad ina kurURIki KI.LAM GÁL-ú ana 2 ḪA.LA (20) [DIŠ mulSAG.ME.GAR ana M]URUB 4 mulGÍR.TAB ik-ta-šad ina kurURIki KI.LAM 1 GUR ana 1(BÁN) ŠE GUR (21) [DIŠ mulSAG.ME.GAR ana K]UN mulGÍR.TAB ik-ta-šad ina kurURIki KI.LAM ½ SÌLA ana 1 GÍN GUR (22) [DIŠ mulSAG.ME.GAR ana] u’-ru-ud : u-ru-uḫ mulGÍR.TAB ik-ta-šad 2 Note that according to van der Spek (2016), the Akkadian reading of KI.LAM, “market rate”, in Astronomical Diaries written after ca. 330 bce was probably nadānu, literally “to sell”. 3 Examples of these phrases can be found in Enūma Anu Enlil Tablets 1, 3, 5 (Verderame 2002), 15, 17 (Rochberg-Halton 1988), 24, 28 (van Soldt 1995), 48 (Gehlken 2012), and 56 (Fincke 2015). 4 See also van der Spek, Dercksen, Kleber and Jursa (2018: 104–105). 5 Translation slightly modified from Reiner and Pingree (2005). Since there were different redactions of Enūma Anu Enlil, other copies of this tablet may carry a different number (Fincke 2001, 2013).

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(23) [ina kurNIM.MA]ki KI.LAM GÁL-ú ana 2 ḪA.[LA] (24) [DIŠ mulSAG.ME.GAR ana L]I.DUR mulGÍR.TAB i[k-ta-ša]d ina kurNIM.MAki KI.LAM 1 GU[R ana 1(BÁN) ŠE GUR] obv. 19[If Jupiter] reaches the head of the Scorpion: in Akkad the existing market rate will be divided by 2. 20[If Jupiter] reaches the middle of the Scorpion: in Akkad a market rate of 1 kur will become 1 sūt. 21[If Jupiter] reaches the tail of the Scorpion: in Akkad a market rate of 1/2 qa will become 1 shekel. 22[If Jupiter] reaches the throat (variant: the hair) of the Scorpion: 23[in Elam] the existing market rate will be divided by 2. 24[If Jupiter] reaches the navel of the Scorpion: in Elam a market rate of 1 kur will become 1 sūt. The units kur, sūt and qa are measures of capacity which are related as follows: 1 kur (≈ 180 litres) = 5 pān, 1 pān = 6 sūt, and 1 sūt = 6 qa (i.e. 1 qa ≈ 1 litre). With the exception of the third, these omens predict reductions of the market rate by factors of 2 and 30. In the third omen the predicted rate is expressed as a weight, an apparent inconsistency that can be resolved if 1 shekel (= 1/60 mina) is interpreted as a notation for 1/60 (qa), which again yields a reduction by a factor of 30.6 That all five predictions are unfavourable is clear from other omens concerning Jupiter’s presence in or near the sign of Scorpio; for example: “If Šulpae (= Jupiter) stands inside the horn of the Scorpion: rains in the sky […]; there will be hardship in the land, people will go hungry, the nurse […]”.7 Conversely, the following omen indicates that an increase of the market rate was favourable:8 (obv. 1) DIŠ mulSAG.[ME.GAR ina ITI.SIG 4] ú-qar-rib-ma (2) a-šar d[UTU ul-ta-p]a-a GUB-iz (…) (7) (…) ŠE u ŠE.GIŠ.Ì i-ma-id-ma (8) KI.LAM 1 qa-TA.ÀM a-na 1 GUR SUM-in

6 This usage of the shekel is well attested in Mesopotamian area metrology, where 1 shekel corresponds to 1/60 of the area unit šar (Powell (1987–1990, 478)). 7 See Reiner and Pingree (2005: 82–83, 92–93, 98–99). 8 Quoted in Hunger (1992), No. 115, a report from the astrologer Bulluṭu to the Assyrian king written in 669 bce.

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obv. 1If Jup[iter in Simānu (month iii)] approaches and stands 2where the S[un shines forth (…) 7barley and sesame will be abundant and 8a market rate of 1 qa will be given for 1 kur. Apparently, barley and sesame will be so abundant that it will be possible to buy 180 times more for the same price.9 All the quoted omens with quantitative market predictions indicate that the market rate corresponds to the amount of a commodity that can be bought for a fixed amount of a reference commodity. As will become apparent, this also applies to the later Babylonian texts. Note that a Mesopotamian market rate thus corresponds to the reciprocal of a modern price: if it is high then the price is low, and vice versa. Furthermore, an increasing market rate corresponds to an increasing supply, a decreasing market rate to decreasing supply. In order to identify possible precursors of the Late Babylonian astrological market procedures, I briefly explore the celestial omens with market predictions. Apart from the Jupiter omens quoted above, numerous other planetary omens contain market predictions.10 One set of phenomena associated with market predictions in the planetary omens and also appear in the Late Babylonian market procedures, is planetary conjunctions, as in the following omen from Enūma Anu Enlil Tablets 59/60: DIŠ muldil-bat MUL MAN-ma TE-ši ana ITI.6.KAM LUGAL ŠÚ BE-ma KUR-su KI.LAM nap-šá GU 7 MUL MAN-ma dṣal-bat-a-nu If Venus, the Strange Star comes close to it: within 6 months a despotic king will die; his land will enjoy an abundant market rate: the Strange Star is Mars.11

9

10

11

However, some omens contain contradictory market predictions, e.g. Enūma Anu Enlil Tablet 1, 51: “If the light of the Moon is very dark: the market rate of the land will decrease, (but) the market (rate) of sesame, variant: of dates will flourish; that month an eclipse will …” (Verderame 2002). For example Enūma Anu Enlil Tablet 56, 1: “If a planet rises in month i barley and sesame will flourish, the market rate will expand”; 14a: “If a planet rises in month iii, the country will experience a reduced market rate”; 15a: “If a planet rises in month vi: rising of the market rate, thriving of grain”; 25b: “If a planet stands in front of the sun, the market rate will diminish” (Largement 1957; Fincke 2015). Enūma Anu Enlil Tablets 59–60, Group A, 63 (Reiner and Pingree 1998). See also Enūma Anu Enlil Tablet 56, 30a: “If a planet reaches Jupiter and (then) passes it, business/the market rate will decrease, (variant: will exist)”; 70: “If a planet enters the Field and becomes visible, sesame will be abundant in the land, the market rate will flourish” (Largement 1957; Fincke 2015).

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Market predictions were also inferred from lunar and solar eclipses. They were usually unfavourable, as in the following omen from Enūma Anu Enlil Tablet 18: [DIŠ ina ITU.DU 6 UD.14.KA]M AN.MI GAR-ma GIM dTIR.AN.NA IGIer A.MA.RU GAR-an dŠE.NAGA ina KI.LAM GIM ŠE.GIŠ.Ì ŠÁM [If in Tašrītu (month vii)] a (lunar) eclipse occurs on [the 14]th [day] and it looks like a rainbow, there will be a deluge; barley will be sold in the market like sesame.12 A lunar eclipse on day 14 of month vii signifies a deluge and, presumably as a consequence, barley will cost as much as sesame. Apart from the deluge, the market prediction is also unfavourable, because sesame was more precious than barley.13 Other omens from Enūma Anu Enlil Tablets 15–22 confirm that lunar eclipses usually signified unfavourable market developments.14 However, this could depend on the timing of the eclipse, as proven by the following omen: “An eclipse of the middle watch means a diminishing market rate” (AN.MI MURUB 4.BA a-na KI.LAM TUR.RA).15 The middle watch is the second of three watches into which the night was divided. By contrast, a lunar eclipse during the first watch was favourable: “If an eclipse occurs in month iv in the evening watch, the harvest of the land will thrive, the land will enjoy an abundant market rate”.16 All omen tablets quoted above are copies from the Neo-Assyrian or Late Babylonian era, but the use of eclipses for market prediction is already attested in Middle Babylonian precursors of Enūma Anu Enlil.17 As will become apparent, Late Babylonian scholars continued to assume connections between eclipses and market developments. Other lunar phenomena such as the appearance of the crescent moon were also interpreted as signs for the market.18 12 13 14

15 16 17 18

Translation slightly modified from Fincke (2016: 102–103). In the Astronomical Diaries sesame is typically about four times more expensive than barley, i.e. its market rate is four times less. Examples with an apodosis “the market rate/business will diminish”: Enūma Anu Enlil 17, Part ii §i.4: “If an eclipse happens on day 14 of month i” (Rochberg-Halton 1988: 123); §i D ii 9: “If on day 20 an eclipse happens” (Rochberg-Halton 1988: 125); §I 10*: “If on day 20 an eclipse happens” (Fincke 2016: 97); §ii.2: “If an eclipse occurs in the middle watch” (Rochberg-Halton 1988: 127). Šumma Sîn ina tāmartīšu, Tablet 4 (Koch-Westenholz 1995: 105–106, Wainer 2016: 76). Enūma Anu Enlil Tablet 17, §iv.1 (Rochberg-Halton 1988: 130). For an example of a Middle Babylonian precursor from Nippur, Ni 1856, see RochbergHalton (1988: 19, 21, 149 (Text B)). For example, the Moon’s first appearance at an unexpected time: Enūma Anu Enlil Tablet 1 §25, §27, §28; a dark moon: Enūma Anu Enlil Tablet 1 §51; Tablet 3 c5; the Moon’s left or right horn is bent: Enūma Anu Enlil Tablet 5 a 1, f 3’ (Verderame 2002).

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The Jupiter omens quoted above also indicate that certain constellations, e.g. that of Scorpio, were of special significance for market phenomena. This is confirmed by Enūma Anu Enlil  Tablet 50, which includes the following general rules: “The Scorpion is for the market (rate)” ([mulGÍR.TAB] a-na KI.LAM) and “the Raven is for a steady market rate” (mulUGA a-na KI.LAM GI.NA).19 In Late Babylonian astrology much more complex associations between zodiacal signs and market rate developments were formulated (see below). Note that bm 35045+46236 preserves a colophon mentioning that the tablet was copied by Mušallim-Bēl, son of Iddin-Bēl, descendant of Mušēzib, a well-known clan of astronomers from Babylon. He may be identified with the individual who wrote the Astronomical Diary for months ix–xii of year 42 of Artaxerxes ii (363 bce),20 or with another astronomer of the same name who lived during the Parthian era.21 Either way, celestial omens with market predictions were copied by the same circle of scholars who produced the Astronomical Diaries. 2

Market Phenomena in the Astronomical Diaries and Related Texts

With the development of the Astronomical Diaries and related texts,22 Babylonian scholarly interest in market phenomena entered a new phase. Before I go into detail, it may be useful to recapitulate some basic features of these texts.23 Astronomical Diaries are attested between ca. 652 and 61 bce. Nearly all of them originate from Babylon, the main center of Babylonian astronomy throughout that period. Most of the surviving tablets are “standard Diaries” covering half a calendar year corresponding to six or seven months, depending on whether the year is ordinary or intercalary. Their content and layout remained highly stable across the centuries. Standard Diaries are carefully produced final reports that were meant to be consulted decades after being written, e.g. in order to make astronomical predictions (see below). To that purpose they were labeled with a standardised phrase, “regular watch for 19 20 21 22 23

Enūma Anu Enlil Tablet 50 (Reiner and Pingree 1981). For this Diary see Hunger and van der Spek (2006). Note that it dates to a period (366–325 bce) when a standard Diary apparently covered a third of a calendar year (Mitsuma 2015, 54, footnote 4, adart i No. -362). See CT 49, 181 (van der Spek 1985). For editions see adart i–iii = Sachs and Hunger (1988, 1989, 1996). For detailed investigations of the Astronomical Diaries as sources for the history of the Babylonian economy see Pirngruber (2017) and Monerie (2018).

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month MN1 until the end of month MN2 of year Y when NN was king” (naṣāru ša ginê ša TA ITI.MN1 EN TIL ITI.MN2 ša MU.Y.KAM NN LUGAL) at the beginning or end of a tablet, or on its edge. Each monthly report comprises the following sections: (1) astronomical data; (2) market rates of six commodities; (3) the positions of the planets in the zodiacal signs (only in Diaries written after ca. 400 bce); (4) data concerning the level of the river Euphrates; (5) historical and ominous events. The astronomical data occupy the bulk of each report. They consist of lunar and planetary positions with respect to Normal Stars (the modern designation for a band of about 32 bright stars which the moon and the planets pass by during their course along the ecliptic), synodic phenomena of the planets (first appearances, stations, acronychal risings and last appearances), solstices and equinoxes, first and last appearances of Sirius, eclipse possibilities, and the Lunar Six, which are time intervals between sunset or sunrise and moonset or moonrise, two of which were observed around the time of the new moon and four around full moon. Occasionally certain irregular phenomena such as meteors and comets were reported too. Before addressing the question of why market rates were reported in these texts, the same question should be answered for the astronomical data. The rediscovery of the predictive Goal Year methods, which are intricately linked to the Diaries, has yielded a nearly complete answer to the latter question. For nearly all of the astronomical phenomena mentioned in the Diaries a corresponding Goal Year method was available. A crucial feature of these methods is that they operate on the principle that the astronomical phenomenon in question repeats itself in a future year near the same calendar date and celestial position as in the year preceding it by a certain period. Accordingly, every prediction involves the projection of a past occurrence of the phenomenon into a future year, the goal year, by adding the appropriate period.24 For lunar phenomena a period of 18 years was used, for Venus 8 years, for ­Mercury 46 years, for the synodic phenomena of Mars 79 years, for its ­Normal Star ­passages 47 years, for Jupiter’s synodic phenomena 71 years, for its Normal Star passages 83 years,

24

Even though each Goal Year period was described in terms of the number of full years that passed between an astronomical phenomenon and its recurrence, this was only a shorthand, since the periods that were actually used correspond to a fixed number of months, and the corrections in days mentioned in the procedure texts are given in relation to that number of calendar months. For instance, the 59 years for Saturn actually stand for 730 months. For a detailed explanation of the Goal Year methods see Steele (2011).

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and for Saturn 59 years. In view of the market procedures to be discussed later it is instructive to consider a Late Babylonian tablet with a Goal Year procedure for Saturn:25 DIB.MEŠ šá GENNA KI MÚL.ŠID.MEŠ ina 59 MU.MEŠ 6 U4 ana MUka LÁ Passages of Saturn with the Normal Stars: in 59 years you subtract 6 days from your year.26 According to the procedure, Saturn’s passing by a certain Normal Star in the goal year Y (“your year”) was predicted by copying out the date of its passage by the same star from the Diary for year Y–59 and subtracting 6 days.27 Since the Goal Year methods require for each prediction an earlier record of the same phenomenon, their use accounts for most of the astronomical data reported in the Diaries.28 The main exceptions are lunar passages by the Normal Stars, which were reported almost on a daily basis, and the brightness or faintness of the planets. Another exception is comets and meteors, which were occasionally reported. As far as we know, no Goal Year methods were available for predicting these phenomena. Note however that several badly understood Late Babylonian astrological tablets deal with the brightness and faintness of planets, so that we cannot completely exclude the possibility that they were considered predictable.29 For all the remaining astronomical phenomena, their use in Goal Year predictions is probably the main reason why they were continuously reported in Diaries. It appears that the Goal Year methods were in use by about 600 bce. This has been inferred from the fact that later Diaries and related texts also report phenomena that were expected but had not been observed, as indicated by the gloss “not observed” (NU PAP), while such data were omitted in earlier texts. The missing phenomena must have been predicted, most likely with a Goal Year method.30 In fact, the production of standard Diaries may have 25 26 27 28 29 30

For the planets: bm 45728 (Britton 2002); for the Moon: tcl 6, 11 (Brack-Bernsen and Hunger 2002); bm 42282+42294 (Brack-Bernsen and Hunger 2008). bm 41004 rev. 13 (Neugebauer and Sachs 1967, Text E). Note that several different corrections are attested in the procedure texts, and that they do not always coincide with the ones that were actually used (Gray and Steele 2008; Steele 2011). For the Lunar Six intervals two additional records of Lunar Six intervals preceding the goal month by 229 months are required (Brack-Bernsen and Hunger 2002). For instance bm 32339+32407+32645 (Ossendrijver 2018b). See the discussion in Steele (2011).

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begun later than previously believed,31 perhaps in conjunction with the discovery of the Goal Year methods. Apart from being used for predictions, the ­astronomical data reported in the Diaries and related texts must have served as the empirical basis for mathematical astronomy, which emerged in the fourth century bce.32 However, that can only have been a secondary application of the ­Diaries, ­because it fails to explain why they continued to be written in nearly identical fashion when mathematical astronomy was fully developed by about 300 bce. The commodities whose market rates are reported are barley, dates, kasû (translated by Sachs and Hunger as “mustard” but perhaps to be identified as cuscuta, dodder), sesame, saḫlû (a type of cress) and wool. The second earliest known Diary from 568/567 bce already reports five of them in their standard order after the astronomical data. All six are important Babylonian agricultural staples, but the question of why precisely these six were included without exception has not been answered. Scholars agree that the reported market rates are based on empirical data, but it is not known how they were compiled. The numerical values represent the amount that could be acquired for 1 shekel of silver. As mentioned above, a similar definition of the market rate must underlie the omen texts. For barley, dates, kasû, saḫlû and sesame it was expressed as a volume, where 1 kur (≈ 180 litres) = 5 pān, 1 pān = 6 sūt, and 1 sūt = 6 qa (1 qa ≈ 1 litre). Wool was measured in weight, with 1 mina (≈ 500 g) = 60 shekels. The predominantly predictive purpose of the astronomical data should inform any explanation of why market data were included in the Diaries. Most scholars who have studied the market data have endorsed the view that they were meant to be predicted,33 but definite proof remains elusive. As will be argued, there is evidence to suggest that Babylonian scholars assumed the market rates to be correlated with astronomical phenomena. Some of that evidence can be found within the Diaries and related texts themselves. For instance, the frequency at which some market rates are reported can be interpreted as an indication of an assumed correlation with astronomical p ­ henomena.

31 32 33

See Steele, this volume. For a brief overview of the sources for the earliest stages of Babylonian mathematical astronomy see Ossendrijver (2012: 1–2). See Hunger and Pingree (1999: 140), Slotsky and Wallenfels (2009: 25), Grasshoff (2011), Pirngruber (2013: 199). By contrast, van der Spek, van Leeuwen and van Zanden (2015: 5–6) argue that the inclusion of market rates implies that they were considered unpredictable, but this is contradicted by the astronomical data, most of which were included precisely because they were predictable.

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The ­following passage from the Diary for month xii of year 12 of Artaxerxes iii (≈ March 346 bce) may be quoted as an example:34 rev. 31That month, the market rate for 1 shekel of refined silver was: barley, at the beginning of the month: 3 pān 2 sūt, in the middle of the month: […] 3 qa, at the end of the month: 1 pān 5 sūt 3 qa; dates, at the beginning of the month: 4 pān, in the middle of the month: 323 pān 3 sūt 3 qa, at the end of the month: 3 pān 5 sūt; kasû: 6 kur; saḫlû: 1 pān 4 sūt; sesame: […] 5 sūt; wool: 5 minas. For barley and dates the market rate was usually reported once or three times per month — at the beginning, in the middle and at the end of the month; for kasû, saḫlû, sesame and wool once per month.35 Note that it is unclear whether the monthly values pertain to a particular day of the month or are averages for the entire month. The different frequencies of reporting may reflect specific assumptions about how the market rates are correlated with astronomical phenomena. A time resolution of one report per month reveals how market rates vary from month to month throughout the year, which reflects the periodicity of the Sun. A frequency of three reports per month reveals additional variations within each month. Furthermore, their timing at the beginning, the middle and the end of the month is similar to that of the Lunar Six, one of which (NA 1) occurs on day 1, four (ŠU 2, NA, ME, GI 6) in the middle of the month (days 13–17), and one (KUR) near the end of the month (days 27–29). This could reflect the fact that market rates were assumed to be correlated with Lunar Six intervals. Supporting evidence for that assumption is found in adart v No. 43, an undated tablet from Babylon with Lunar Six data and market rates. All that is preserved of this tablet are portions of three columns (i’–iii’) with Lunar Six data arranged in monthly sections and the remains of one subsequent column (iv’) with market rates. The preserved Lunar Six data cover two unidentified months (column i’), months vi–ix (ii’), and another unidentified month (iii’), while the market rates (iv’) cover all six commodities for months i–v, perhaps originally until xii, of an unidentified year. It seems plausible that the original tablet contained Lunar Six data and market rates, 34 35

Translation taken from adart i No. -346. Brackets indicate damage in the original. Note that this Diary covers four rather than six months (see footnote 18). A cursory inspection of the Diaries suggests that before ca. 145 bce barley was reported either once or three times per month, the other commodities virtually always once per month. After ca. 145 bce barley and dates were both usually (perhaps 80% of the cases) reported three times per month, the other commodities usually once per month (perhaps 80% of the cases), sometimes more often.

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perhaps no other data, for at least one calendar year. Its purpose may have been to document correlations that could be exploited for predicting market rates, although no rules based on such correlations are as yet attested in the procedure texts (see below). In some Diaries market rates are reported more frequently than three times per month. The following example is taken from a Diary for month xi of Seleucid Era year 178 (January/February 133 bce):36 15’Night of the 27th, the north wind blew 16’[… a solar eclipse]; when it began [on the …] and west side, in 20 (UŠ) of day it made two thirds of the disk; when it began to clear, in 18 (UŠ) of day 17’[…] … was visible?; at 51 (UŠ) before sunset; clouds were in the sky, the north wind blew. Night of the 29th (and) the 29th, the north wind blew. That month the market rate was: barley, 18’[…] to the 26th: 3 pān 2 sūt; the 27th: 3 pān 1 sūt 3 qa; the 28th: 3 pān 1 sūt; the 29th: 3 pān; dates, from the 1st to the 5th: 1 kur 4 pān 3 sūt; from the 6th to the 9th: 1 kur 4 pān 19’[…] 3 pān; from the 16th to the 20th: 1 kur 2 pān 3 sūt; from the 21st to the 26th: 1 kur 2 pān; the 27th, 28th, (and) 29th: 1 kur 2 pān 1 sūt 3 qa; 20’[kasû: … ; saḫlû: … ; sesame: … in the midd]le of the month: 4 sūt, until the end of the month: 3 sūt 4 ½ qa; wool: 1 2/3 minas. In this Diary market rates are reported at several different frequencies, depending on the commodity and, clearly, on the proximity to an expected solar eclipse, which occurred on day 28 (13 February 133 bce).37 From day 26 to day 29 barley and dates were reported daily; during the rest of the month, once every five or six days. The data for kasû and saḫlû are not preserved; for sesame the usual three values appear to have been reported. That the daily reporting between days 26 and 29 was triggered by the expected eclipse is confirmed by numerous other Diaries.38 It is striking that all of the extant Diaries with daily reporting of market rates near an eclipse were written after 138 bce. For reasons that are currently difficult to assess, Babylonian scholars appear to have intensified their investigations of market rates near expected eclipses shortly after 36 Translation slightly modified from adart iii No. -133. 37 For the conditions of this eclipse see Huber and DeMeis (2004: 170, 212). 38 Examples: adart iii No. -137 (SE 174) month ii: lunar eclipse, viii: lunar eclipse; No. -132 D 2 (SE 179) month x: lunar and solar eclipse; No. -125 (SE 186) month vi: solar eclipse; No. -124 (SE 187) month x: solar eclipse; No. -123 (SE 188) month v: lunar eclipse; No. -119 (SE 192) month i: solar eclipse, ii: lunar eclipse; No. -118 (SE 193) month i: solar eclipse, vii: lunar eclipse; No. -108 (SE 203) month i: lunar eclipse (Sachs and Hunger 1996). Note that this list is incomplete.

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the Parthian conquest of Babylonia around 141 bce. However, some Diaries written after 138 bce exhibit frequent reporting of market rates even though no eclipse occurred or was expected.39 Apparently such reporting could also be triggered by other events that are yet to be identified. Moreover, in some Diaries that mention an eclipse the market rates were reported at most three times per month.40 As shown in the previous section, the assumption of a correlation between market rate developments and eclipses can be traced back to divinatory traditions from the second millennium bce. Apart from Lunar Six intervals and eclipses, other predictable astronomical phenomena recorded in the Diaries may also have been viewed as proxies for market rates. As will become apparent, procedure texts prove that this is true for the planetary phenomena. Since they were predicted using Goal Year periods ranging from 8 years (Venus) to 79 years (Mars), Babylonian scholars could have used planetary phenomena for long-term predictions of market rates. In this connection it is worthwhile to point out that the market rates in the Diaries exhibit long-term variations on several different time scales ranging up to hundreds of years.41 From a modern point of view the Goal Year periods are therefore within a range that is, in principle, appropriate for tracking and modeling these variations. The reported market rates were derived from empirical data in some unknown fashion. Numerous preliminary reports must have gone into a single Diary, but only few have survived, obviously because they were normally discarded once their content had been processed. Two distinct types have been identified, dubbed Preliminary Diaries and Short Diaries, each reflecting a distinct stage of the compilation process.42 Standard Diaries were compiled from Short Diaries, which contain data from the same five categories for a period of at most two months. On their turn, Short Diaries were compiled from Preliminary Diaries with astronomical data and river levels. Some of them also contain market rates or historical events, others only astronomical data and 39 Examples: adart ii Nos. -232 (SE 79) month xi, -164 (SE 147) month xii; adart iii Nos. -156 (SE 155) month xii; -136C (SE 175) month xi, -131 (SE 179) months viii, xii; -125 (SE 186) month i; -124 (SE 187) month ix; -122 (SE 189) month ii; -122D (SE 189) month vi 2, -112 (SE 199) month vii; -107 (SE 204) month xi; -105 (SE 206) months i, ii, iii; -90 (SE 221) month ix, which contains multiple market rates per day. Note that this list is incomplete. 40 Examples: adart iii No. -105 (SE 206) month v: lunar eclipse; No. -77 (SE 234) month v: solar eclipse (Sachs and Hunger 1996). Note that this list is incomplete. 41 See Koopman and Hoogerheide (2015), especially Fig. 3.1. Note that unlike these modern graphs, which display converted prices, Babylonian scholars would presumably represent and investigate tabulated sequences of market rates. 42 Mitsuma (2015).

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market rates. In some Preliminary Diaries the writing becomes more shallow from day to day due to the gradual drying of the tablet, which indicates that they are actual reports that were written on a daily basis.43 The sources of the market data in these texts remain to be identified. One might look for them among the so-called commodity price lists, a small corpus of about 17 Late Babylonian tablets from Babylon.44 These tablets contain market rates for one to six of the same commodities as feature in the Diaries, usually reported for the beginning, middle and end of a month as in most Diaries, sometimes once per month or once per year. However, they usually cover much longer periods, ranging from 1 year to dozens of years. Furthermore, the market rates usually pertain to 2, 10, or more shekels of silver, which rules out the possibility that they were a direct source for the market rates in the Diaries, which give rates for 1 shekel. Only one of the extant lists, with market rates for 1 shekel of silver, could in principle have been a source for the Diaries.45 It may be noted that by tabulating one market rate per year all seasonal variation is eliminated. Hence the commodity price lists might reflect a scholarly investigation parallel to that underlying the Diaries, with the aim of revealing long-term trends. 3

Late Babylonian Compositions with Rules for Predicting Market Rates

Explicit rules for predicting market rates are found in several compositions from the Late Babylonian era. Two of them, bm 47494 and SpTU 1, 94, are analysed here in some detail.46 Since these tablets mention the zodiac they must have been composed after about 400 bce, the estimated date at which the zodiac was introduced. All are available in a modern edition by Hermann Hunger, to which the reader is referred for philological aspects and further commentary. The main purpose of the present discussion is to analyse these compositions in the context of the celestial omen tradition on the one hand and the Astronomical Diaries on the other. 43 44 45 46

On some tablets with preliminary Diaries sections that are typical of short Diaries were subsequently added (Mitsuma 2015). For editions of these texts see Slotsky and Wallenfels (2009). Slotsky and Wallenfels (2009), No. 15. Other Late Babylonian texts that include at least one market rate prediction are A 3451 (unpublished); SpTU 4, 161 (von Weiher 1993) and its partial duplicate lbat 1600 = bm 35325 (unedited); bm 32211 (Steele 2015b); bm 32557 (unpublished); tcl 6, 11 (BrackBernsen and Hunger 2002).

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bm 47494 is a well-preserved tablet which probably originates from Babylon or Borsippa.47 The colophon mentions that it was written by Iprāya,48 descendant of Ēṭiru, a scholar who lived during the reign of a king Artaxerxes. This implies that the tablet was written before 337 bce, the last regnal year of Artaxerxes iii. His familiarity with astral science is apparent from several commentaries which he wrote on the topic.49 In bm 47494 omens with market predictions appear along with other kinds of predictions. The tablet begins with a sequence of statements in which zodiacal constellations are assigned to geographical regions (obv. 1–16).50 They are followed by similar statements which associate up to four of the same constellations with various areas of daily life (obv. 17–38), including the following five: obv. 23For the market rate (KI.LAM): within the Crab, the Scales, the GoatFish, the Field. 24For barley: within the Field, the Furrow, the Great One. 25For dates: within the Scales, the Hired Man, the Old Man. 26For sesame: within the Scorpion, the Eagle(?). 27For wool: within the Hired Man, the Scales, and the True Shepherd of Anu. After a statement concerning the “market rate” (obv. 23), the familiar commodities barley, dates, sesame, and wool are each associated with two or three zodiacal constellations (obv. 24–27). Note that they are listed in the same order as in the Diaries, but kasû and saḫlû are lacking. In all, 15 zodiacal constellations are mentioned, which suggests that these associations predate the introduction of the uniform zodiac of twelve signs. The criteria for applying them are not explained, but this is presumably determined by the positions of the planets, the Moon or the Sun in relation to the constellations in question. Note that some of the associations, in particular those for barley and wool, appear to be based on the way in which the constellation was conceptualised. For instance, the alternative interpretation of the Hired Man as a ram, well known from later texts, might have triggered its association with wool.51 The reverse of the tablet continues with four sections concerning business or market rates for 47 48 49 50 51

For an edition see Hunger (2004). Formerly read Šemāya or Šebāya (see Jiménez 2016, 218 n. 53 and reference therein). bm 47447 (Rochberg-Halton 1988: 285–290); bm 47529+47685 (Wee 2016); bm 47938 (CT 39 27, quoted by Wee 2016: 161, footnote 242); bm 47463 (Livingstone 1986: 259). For Mesopotamian astrological geography including a discussion of bm 47494 see Steele (2015a). For the alternative designation of the Hired Man as a ram see Wee (2016: 164–165).

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the four canonical regions of Mesopotamian divination, Akkad, Elam, Amurru, and Subartu, where Akkad denotes Babylonia. Each of these geographical regions is associated with three zodiacal signs forming a so-called triplicity, i.e. they are separated by four signs: rev. 1[The Hired Man], the Lion, Pabilsag: 2[…] the market rate of Akkad. (…) 17The Bull of Heaven, the Furrow and [the Goat-Fish]: 183 regions for Elam. 19The Large Twins, the Scales and the Great One: 203 regions for Amurru. 21The Crab, the Scorpion and the Field: 223 regions for Subartu. The first triplicity translates as Aries (1), Leo (5), Sagittarius (9); the second one as Taurus (2), Virgo (6), Capricorn (10); the third one as Gemini (3), Libra (7), Aquarius (11); and the fourth one as Cancer (4), Scorpion (8), Pisces (12). They correspond exactly to the 12 months which are connected with the same geographical regions in two earlier compositions, the Great Star List and the omen series Šumma Sîn ina tāmartīšu, “When Sîn at his appearance”.52 Note that the “Bull of Heaven” and “Field” are early designations for Taurus and Pisces, which are usually referred to as “the Stars” and “the Tails” in later texts. The triplicity for Akkad (rev. 1–2) is followed by omens with market predictions: rev. 3[If Jup]iter stands therein and is bright: the market rate will prosper; if it is faint it will decrease. 4[If Venus (?)] is bright therein: the market rate will prosper; if it is faint it will decrease. 5[If] the Moon weeps (i.e. is eclipsed) therein: the market rate will decrease. 6[If] Saturn or Mars is bright therein: the market rate will decrease. 7If in months i, v, ix on day 11+x an eclipse? occurs and 8the Moon stands opposite the Sun: the market rate will decrease. 9If they stand there on day 13: the market rate will decrease. 10If they stand there on day 14: the market rate will increase. 11If the Arrow (Mercury?) is bright therein: the market rate will prosper; attack of an enemy. 12If Jupiter is faint: the market rate will be scarce (?) that [year?]. 13If Venus is faint: the market rate will be scarce. 14If Mars or Saturn is bright: the market rate will be scarce 52

See Steele (2015a: 202–206).

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15If the Moon is faint at its (first) appearance: the market rate will be scarce. 16If the Moon (is) in front of the Sun (and) its NA is not seen: the market rate will be scarce. Some of these omens may have been copied from existing omen compilations such as Enūma Anu Enlil. In particular, the lunar omens in rev. 15–16 are reminiscent of Enūma Anu Enlil Tablets 1–6, the eclipse omens in rev. 5, 7–10 of Enūma Anu Enlil Tablets 15–22. However, the omens involving the presence of a planet or the Moon “therein” (rev. 3–6) may reflect the introduction of the zodiac: similar protases mentioning planetary or lunar phenomena in relation to zodiacal signs are attested in other Late Babylonian astrological texts.53 The underlying principles are familiar from earlier divinatory compositions, e.g. a benefic planet (Jupiter, Venus) that is bright signifies that the market rate will increase, while a malefic planet (Saturn, Mars) that is bright signifies that it will decrease. bm 47494 preserves the more traditional formulation of omen compositions (lacking the instructions that occur in procedure texts) but the predictive statements have been rearranged and adapted to reflect new developments in astral science. The selection of astronomical phenomena in the protases — eclipses, the appearance of the lunar crescent, and the presence and brightness of the planets — partly overlaps with the phenomena that are reported in the Diaries. The omen in rev. 16 concerns a correlation between the Lunar Six interval NA 1 — the time between sunset and the setting of the first crescent — and a market development. As mentioned above, evidence from the Diaries and related texts suggests that correlations between eclipses and market rates and between Lunar Six intervals and market rates were actively pursued by Babylonian astronomers. SpTU 1, 94 is a virtually intact tablet that was excavated in Uruk in the private house of Iqīšâ, descendant of Ekur-zākir, diviner (mašmaššu). According to the colophon he was an “enterer of the temple of Anu and Antu”, a title which identifies him as belonging to the cult personnel of the Anu temple. The colophon also tells us that the tablet was copied and checked. It is undated, but Iqīšâ is known to have been active during the reign of Philip Arrhidaeus (323– 317 bce).54 His extant tablets cover a wide range of topics including divination and astral science, but there is no textual evidence that he pursued predictive

53 54

For instance tcl 6, 13 (Rochberg-Halton 1987) and lbat 1595, which remains unedited; see also Koch-Westenholz (1995: 164–171). For an edition and commentary see Hunger (1976b).

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astronomy or wrote Astronomical Diaries and related texts.55 SpTU 1, 94 deals almost exclusively with market prediction. It is divided into eight sections, the first of which (§1) amounts to a general procedure for predicting the market rate of barley: (obv. 1) BE-ma a-na qaqqar(KI) KI.LAM še-im qība(ME.A) tašakkan(GAR-an) (2)  ḫe-pí alāk(DU) dUDU.IDIM.MEŠ KIN.KIN-ma IGI.DU 8.A TÙM ne-met-tu4 šitqultu(LÁL-tu4) (3)  T E-tu4 un-nu-tu ù ŠE.ER.ZI šá dUDU.IDIM.MEŠ u lú-máš šá šūqu(NIM) (4)  u šuplu(SIG) ina ŠÀ ušarrû(SAR-ú) tanaṣṣarma(ŠEŠ-ma) a-na MU.AN.NA-ka ME.A GAR-ma SILIM-im obv. 1If you want to make a prediction for the region of the market rate of barley: 2broken — you investigate the course of the planets and you observe the (first) appearance, the last appearance, the station, the “balancing” (opposition/conjunction?), 3the approaching, the faintness and brightness of the planets, and the zodiacal sign in which they begin to ascend 4and descend, and then you make a prediction for your year, and it will be correct.56 The formulation of this section is characteristic of Late Babylonian astronomical and astrological procedure texts. In particular, the Goal Year procedures, an example of which was quoted above, come to mind as close formal parallels for the phrase “to make a prediction for your year”.57 In fact, I would argue that this is more than a formal agreement, because the predictions were probably meant to come about within Goal Year periods. In that connection we may note that the planetary phenomena that are listed as proxies of the market rate largely coincide with those in the Astronomical Diaries. This is true for positions relative to Normal Stars, which correspond to the “course” or “approachings”, synodic phenomena, i.e. first and last appearances, and stations, and brightness or faintness. The ascending or descending motion of the planets, most likely to be understood in relation to the zodiac or, equivalently, the belt of Normal Stars (which are all near the ecliptic), is not reported directly in 55 56 57

For a list of Iqīšâ’s tablets that deal with astral science see Ossendrijver (2018a). Translation differs at some points from Hunger (1976b). For instance, tcl 6, 11 (Brack-Bernsen and Hunger 2008), bm 36747 (Brack-Bernsen 2002), bm 41004 (Neugebauer and Sachs 1967), bm 42282 (Brack-Bernsen and Hunger 2008).

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the Diaries, but can be inferred from reports about the distance by which they pass above or below the Normal Stars. Explicit reports of conjunctions and oppositions between planets are rare,58 but a Babylonian astronomer could estimate their dates and positions from the positions of individual planets reported in the Diaries. Predictive Goal Year methods are attested for most of these phenomena, with the exception of the brightness indications. For planetary oppositions and conjunctions the extant evidence consists of one Late Babylonian procedure text;59 it therefore remains unclear to what extent they were predicted. As mentioned earlier, some textual evidence suggests that the brightness and faintness of planets was considered to be computable. The explicit mention of observed planetary phenomena (obv. 2) as a basis for predicting market rates also points to the Goal Year method, which operates by means of reported observations. Hence a scenario emerges whereby the prediction of market rates is achieved by predicting planetary phenomena with Goal Year methods and then correlating the phenomena thus predicted with certain market rate developments. This is confirmed by the subsequent sections (§§2–8 — see further below), which detail specific correlations between planetary phenomena and market rate developments. Supporting ­evidence for such a scenario is found in similar Late Babylonian procedures for predicting weather phenomena.60 One of these procedures, TCL 6, 20, a tablet from Seleucid Uruk, begins with a general rule in which Goal Year periods are explicitly invoked: (rev. 1) [xxxx A].KAL ME.A GAR-an (2) [xxx] ITU.GU 4 šá MUL 4.GAL 1.12 24 12 MU.AN.NA.MEŠ (3) [xx ddil-bat] 16 8 MU.MEŠ šá dGU 4.UD 46 21 13 MU.MEŠ (4) [xxxx] 47 MU.MEŠ šá dUTU 36 54 MU.MEŠ šá dsin 18 MU.MEŠ rev. 1[In order for] you to make a prediction [for rain and] flood: 2[…] month ii. For Jupiter (the “Big Star”) 1,12 (= 72), 24, 12 years, 3[for Venus] 16, 8 years, for Mercury 46, 21, 13 years, 4[… for Mars] 47 years, for the Sun 36, 54 years, for the Moon 18 years.61

58

The planetary excerpt adart v No. 58, reports conjunctions of Mars and the Moon and of Saturn and the Moon for several intervals between 423 bce and 399 bce. 59 bm 76488 (Ossendrijver 2017). 60 See tcl 6, 19 and 20 (Hunger 1976b); bm 36647 (unpublished), tcl 6, 11 §§8, 23–26 (Hunger and Brack-Bernsen 2002). 61 Translation slightly modified from Hunger (1976a). It is unclear why month ii is mentioned.

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Many of these periods are familiar from Goal Year astronomy; others are equally valid from a modern point of view, although their actual use in Babylonian astronomy is not yet attested. It therefore seems clear that these periods were meant to be used for predicting astronomical phenomena that serve as proxies for weather phenomena. By analogy their use is probably also implied in SpTU 1, 94. An important feature of the resulting scenario is that it comprises two distinct stages: first, an astronomical stage, which involves long-term predictions of astronomical phenomena on time scales determined by Goal Year periods; secondly, the application of correlation rules between the astronomical phenomena thus predicted and market rate developments. Some of these correlations are presented in the following sections of SpTU 1, 94 (§§2–8), which consist mainly of omen-like statements. It suffices to discuss some examples and draw some general conclusions. (§2.a) obv. 5Normally (gi-na-a) Jupiter in the Lion (Leo), Pabilsag (Sagittarius), between the Goat-Fish (Capricorn) and 6the Great One (Aquarius) and the region of the Stars and the Bull of Heaven (Taurus): the market rate will increase and in all (other) zodiacal signs 7the market rate will decrease. And Saturn from the Crab (Cancer) until Pabilsag: 8it will increase; from the Goat-Fish until the Great Twins (Gemini): it will decrease. This rule is one of several in which the market rate is inferred from the position of a single planet.62 The signs in which Jupiter is said to “normally” signify an increasing market rate partly overlap with the statements in bm 47494 obv. 1–3 (see above). (§2.b) 12If Jupiter is faint or it takes up a low position or 13it disappears (after its last appearance) and Mars is bright or takes up a high position or Mars is ‘balanced’ (in conjunction/opposition) with Jupiter: 14the market rate will strongly decrease and the people will experience a large famine. In this rule market rate developments are correlated with two planets, one benefic (Jupiter) and one malefic (Mars). The underlying principles are familiar from the divinatory tradition: a benefic planet being faint, at a low position or invisible is a negative sign, while the opposite is true if these features pertain to a malefic planet. In the present case two negative predictions are added, 62 See SpTU 1, 94 §§6, 7 (Hunger 1976a).

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yielding a strongly negative result. In several other sections of the text the distance of a planet or the Moon from the ecliptic also signifies market developments.63 Finally, one section contains quantitative predictions of market rates: (§7) 41If Saturn appears within Libra and it is red: good for Akkad, 42a favourable market rate which Akkad will enjoy. From Libra until Capricorn: 43a third of its sūt by which it will decrease. From Capricorn until Aries: 44by two thirds it will decrease. From Aries until Cancer: by a third of its sūt it will be ‘delayed’ (uḫ-ḫar). 45From Cancer until Libra: by two thirds of its sūt it will be ‘delayed’. Unfortunately this section is marred by grammatical and interpretative difficulties.64 Since Saturn is a malefic planet the favourable nature of the first prediction must be due to its appearance in Libra or it being red, but the underlying reasoning is unclear. The following two statements predict reductions of the market rate by fractions of a sūt, in apparent agreement with Saturn’s malefic nature. The final two statements concerning a “delay” of the market rate are without parallel and their meaning is unclear.65 In agreement with the two-stage scenario proposed above, all of the correlations between planetary or lunar phenomena and market developments in §§2–8 were apparently assumed to become effective instantly whenever the astronomical phenomenon was realised, and cease to be effective when the phenomenon ceased, since they lack any indication of a delay in relation to the market development in question. Even though the market rate procedures reveal a close proximity to the economic sections of the Astronomical Diaries in terms of their terminology, their selection of commodities, and the underlying methods for predicting those astronomical phenomena that serve as proxies for market rates, they continue to raise many questions. In particular, the correlation rules are, by and large, of a qualitative and divinatory nature, with no identifiable connection to the ­quantitative market rates in the Diaries. Hence there appears to be little or no basis for interpreting these rules as the result of a scholarly i­nvestigation 63 See SpTU 1, 94 §§2, 4, 8 (Hunger 1976a). 64 See also Hunger (1976a). 65 Instead of “it will be delayed” (uḫ-ḫar) one would rather expect this prediction to be the opposite of the preceding ones, i.e. “it will increase” (ut-tar). It is striking that this phrase is phonetically similar to what is written, which could suggest some sort of error.

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of long-term trends in market rates and their possible correlations with astronomical phenomena, even though the Diaries and the commodity price lists could have been used for such investigations. Furthermore, actual predictions for concrete calendar dates are as yet attested only for astronomical ­phenomena — in the Diaries themselves, in Goal Year Texts, Almanacs, Normal Star Almanacs66 and, after ca. 400 bce, in mathematical astronomy.67 What is lacking thus far are analogous tablets with predictions of market rates. Unless these predictions have escaped discovery among the thousands of scholarly tablets from Babylon, which seems unlikely, this calls into question the extent to which market rate prediction was a practical discipline as opposed to a theoretical one, or, perhaps, a form of divination that could be used to construct a posteriori astrological explanations for market developments in the past. It is worth noting that an interest in interpreting market rates from the past is also attested in at least one Babylonian Chronicle, a group of reports which emerged at about the same time as the Diaries and were probably written by the same circle of scholars. The fragmentarily preserved “Market Price Chronicle” lists market rates of barley, dates, wool, and some other commodities, for select years from various reigns between Hammurabi and Nabû-šumaiškun (ca. 748 bce).68 Other Babylonian sources also point to the use of astrology for interpreting past events as opposed to predicting the future. A notable example is bm 32234 (adart v No. 4), a compilation of lunar eclipse reports similar in style to the Diaries. The report for the lunar eclipse of 5 June 465 bce also mentions the murder of king Xerxes by his own son two months later, very 66 For Goal Year Texts, Almanacs and Normal Star Almanacs see Hunger (2006, 2014). 67 See Neugebauer (1955); Ossendrijver (2012). It may be worth noting that the Goal Year methods which constitute the astronomical stage of the proposed procedure for predicting market rates could, in principle, be replaced by the algorithms of mathematical astronomy, because both methods were used to predict essentially the same lunar and planetary phenomena. Mathematical astronomy would yield almost arbitrarily long sequences of astronomical predictions on the basis of a few initial values, thus drastically reducing the number of astronomical observations needed as input. In this connection we may also note that about half of the tables of mathematical astronomy are concerned with synodic phenomena involving the planets. Apart from the procedures for predicting market rates and the weather that I have discussed in this chapter, no ­practical applications for the prediction of planetary synodic phenomena have been identified in Babylonian texts. This could suggest that the planetary algorithms of mathematical astronomy were used, or meant to be used, specifically for long-term predictions of market rates and weather patterns, but there is no explicit evidence to confirm such a hypothesis. 68 See Grayson (1975), No. 23 (bm 48498).

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likely because the scholars considered that event, in hindsight, to have been announced by the eclipse. On a final note, the Babylonians’ efforts to predict market rates by astronomical means in the latter half of the first millennium bce reveal that their understanding of how astronomical and terrestrial phenomena are correlated had evolved beyond earlier celestial divination. Late Babylonian astrology appears to proceed from the assumption that future events on earth are correlated, more or less instantaneously, with celestial phenomena that can be predicted far in advance. However, this need not imply that the predicted phenomena, whether astronomical or terrestrial, were no longer considered to be signs produced by the gods. References Brack-Bernsen, L., 2002, “Predictions of Lunar Phenomena in Babylonian Astronomy”, in J.M. Steele and A. Imhausen (eds), Under One Sky, Alter Orient Altest Testament 297 (Münster: Ugarit-Verlag), 5–19. Brack-Bernsen, L. and H. Hunger, 2002, “TU 11. A Collection of Rules for the Prediction of Lunar Phases and of Month Lengths”, SCIAMVS 3, 3–90. Brack-Bernsen, L. and H. Hunger, 2008, “BM 42282+42294 and the Goal-Year Method”, SCIAMVS 9, 3–23. Britton, J.P., 2002, “Treatment of Annual Phenomena in Cuneiform Sources”, in J.M. Steele and A. Imhausen (eds), Under One Sky, Alter Orient Altest Testament 297 (Münster: Ugarit-Verlag), 21–78. Fincke, J., 2001, “Der Assur-Katalog der Serie Enūma Anu Enlil (EAE)”, Orientalia 70, 19–39. Fincke, J., 2013, “The Solar Eclipse Omen Texts from Enūma Anu Enlil,” Bibliotheca Orientalis 70, 582–608. Fincke, J., 2015, “Additions to Already Edited Enūma Anu Enlil (EAE) Tablets, Part iii: A New Copy from Babylonia for the Tablet on Planets (MUL.UDU.IDIM) of the Omen Series”, KASKAL 12, 267–279. Fincke, J., 2016, “Additions to Already Edited Enūma Anu Enlil (EAE) Tablets, Part iv: The Lunar Eclipse Omens from Tablets 15–19 Published by Rochberg-Halton in AfO Beih 22”, KASKAL 13, 89–119. Freedman, S.M., 1998, If a City is Set on a Height. The Akkadian Omen Series Šumma Alu ina Mēlê Šakin. Volume 1: Tablets 1–21 (Philadelphia: The University of Pennsylvania Museum). Freedman, S.M., 2017, If a City Is Set on a Height: The Akkadian Omen Series Šumma Alu ina Mēlê Šakin. Volume 3; Tablets 41–63 (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns).

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Gehlken, E., 2012, Weather Omens of Enūma Anu Enlil. Thunderstorms, Wind and Rain (Tablets 44–49)(Leiden and Boston: Brill). Grasshoff, G., 2011, “Babylonian Meteorological Observations and the Empirical Basis of Ancient Science”, in G. Selz (ed.), The Empirical Dimension of Ancient Near Eastern Studies, Wiener Offene Orientalistik 8. (Vienna: LIT Verlag), 33–48. Gray, J.M.K. and J.M. Steele, 2008, “Studies on Babylonian Goal-Year Astronomy i: a Comparison Between Planetary Data in Goal-Year Texts, Almanacs and Normal Star Almanacs”, Archive for History of Exact Sciences 62, 553–600. Grayson, A.K., 1975, Assyrian and Babylonian chronicles (Locust Valley, NY: J.J. Augustin). Huber, P. and S. De Meis, 2004, Babylonian Eclipse Observations from 750 bc to 1 bc (Rome and Milan: Mimesis and Istituto Italiano per l’Africa e l’Oriente). Hunger, H., 1976a, Spätbabylonische Texte aus Uruk i. Ausgrabungen der Deutschen Forschungsgemeinschaft in Uruk-Warka Band 9 (Berlin: Gebr. Mann Verlag). Hunger, H., 1976b, “Astrologische Wettervorhersagen”, Zeitschrift für Assyriologie und Vorderasiatische Archäologie 66, 234–260. Hunger, H., 1992, Astrological Reports to Assyrian Kings. State Archives of Assyria, Vol. 8 (Helsinki: Helsinki University Press). Hunger, H., 2001, Astronomical Diaries and Related Texts from Babylonia, V. Lunar and Planetary Texts (Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften). Hunger, H., 2004, “Stars, Cities, and Predictions” in C. Burnett, J. Hogendijk, K. Plofker and M. Yano (eds), Studies in the History of the Exact Sciences in Honour of David Pingree, (Leiden: Brill), 16–32. Hunger, H., 2006, Astronomical Diaries and Related Texts from Babylonia vi. Goal-Year Texts (Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften). Hunger, H., 2014, Astronomical Diaries and Related Texts from Babylonia vii. Almanacs and Normal Star Almanacs (Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften). Hunger, H., and D. Pingree, 1999, Astral Sciences in Mesopotamia (Leiden: Brill). Hunger, H. and R.J. van der Spek, 2006, “An Astronomical Diary Concerning Artaxerxes ii (Year 42 = 363–2 bc). Military Operations in Babylonia”, Achaemenid Research on Texts and Archaeology 2, 1–16. Jiménez, E. 2016, “Loose Threads of Tradition: Two Late Hemerological Compilations”, Journal of Cuneiform Studies 68, 197–227. Koch-Westenholz, U., 1995, Mesopotamian Astrology: An Introduction to Babylonian and Assyrian Celestial Divination. Carsten Niebuhr Institute Publications Series 19, (Copenhagen: Museum Tusculanum Press). Koopman, S.J. and L. Hoogerheide, 2015, “Analysis of Historical Time Series with Messy Features”, in R.J. van der Spek, B. van Leeuwen, J. Luiten van Zand (eds), A History of Market Performance (London and New York: Routledge), 44–67.

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Largement, R., 1957, “Contribution à l’étude des astres errants dans l’astrologie chaldéenne”, Zeitschrift für Assyriologie und Vorderasiatische Archäologie 52, 235–264. Livingstone, A., 1986, Mystical and Mythological Explanatory Works of Assyrian and Babylonian Scholars (Oxford: Oxford University Press). Mitsuma, Y., 2015, “From Preliminary Diaries to Short Diaries: The First and Second Steps in the Compilation Process of the Late Babylonian Astronomical Diaries”, SCIAMVS: Sources and Commentaries in Exact Sciences 16, 53–73. Monerie, J., 2018, L’économie de la Babylonie à l’époque hellénistique, Studies in Ancient Near Eastern Records 14 (Berlin: De Gruyter). Neugebauer, O., 1955, Astronomical Cuneiform Texts (New York: Springer). Neugebauer, O. and A. Sachs, 1967, “Some Atypical Astronomical Cuneiform Texts i”, Journal of Cuneiform Studies 21, 183–218. Ossendrijver, M., 2012, Babylonian Mathematical Astronomy: Procedure Texts (New York: Springer). Ossendrijver, M., 2017, “bm 76488 — a Babylonian compendium about conjunctions and other planetary phenomena”, in J. Steele and M. Ossendrijver (eds), Studies on the Ancient Exact Sciences in Honor of Lis Brack-Bernsen. Berlin Studies of the Ancient World 44 (Berlin: Edition Topoi), 127–146. Ossendrijver, M., 2018, “bm 32339+32407+32645. New Evidence for Late Babylonian Astrology”, in: S.V. Panayotov, L. Vacín (eds.), Mesopotamian Medicine and Magic. Studies in Honor of Markham J. Geller (Leiden and Boston: Brill), 401–420. Ossendrijver, M., forthcoming, “Astral Science in Uruk during the First Millennium bc: Libraries, Communities and Transfer of Knowledge”, in M. van Ess (ed.), Uruk. Altorientalische Metropole und Kulturzentrum. 8. Internationales Colloquium der DOG (forthcoming). Pirngruber, R., 2013, “The Historical Sections of the Astronomical Diaries in Context: Developments in a Late Babylonian Scientific Text Corpus”, Iraq 75, 197–209. Pirngruber, R., 2017, The Economy of Late Achaemenid and Seleucid Babylonia (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press). Powell, M.A. 1987–1990, “Masse und Gewichte”, in: D.O. Edzard (ed.), Reallexikon der Assyriologie und Vorderasiatischen Archäologie. Siebter Band. Libanukšabaš – Medizin (Berlin, New York: De Gruyter), 457–517. Reiner, E. and D. Pingree, 1981, Babylonian Planetary Omens, Part 2: Enūma Anu Enlil Tablets 50–51, Bibliotheca Mesopotamica, Vol. 2, Fasc. 2 (Malibu: Undena Publications). Reiner, E. and D. Pingree, 1998, Babylonian Planetary Omens, Part iii, Cuneiform Monographs 11 (Leiden and Boston: Brill and Styx). Reiner, E. and D. Pingree, 2005, Babylonian Planetary Omens, Part iv, Cuneiform Monographs 30 (Leiden and Boston: Brill and Styx).

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Rochberg-Halton, F., 1987, “tcl 6 13: Mixed Traditions in Late Babylonian Astrology”, Zeitschrift für Assyriologie und Vorderasiatische Archäologie 77, 207–228. Rochberg-Halton, F., 1988, Aspects of Babylonian Celestial Divination: The Lunar Eclipse Tablets of Enūma Anu Enlil. Archiv für Orientforschung Beiheft 22 (Horn: Verlag Ferdinand Berger und Söhne). Sachs, A.J. and H. Hunger, 1988. Astronomical Diaries and Related Texts from Babylonia i (Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften). Sachs, A.J. and H. Hunger, 1989. Astronomical Diaries and Related Texts from Babylonia ii (Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften). Sachs, A.J. and H. Hunger, 1996. Astronomical Diaries and Related Texts from Babylonia iii (Vienna: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften). Slotsky, A.L. and R. Wallenfels, 2009. Tallies and Trends: The Late Babylonian Commodity Price Lists (Bethesda, MD: Capital Decisions Ltd). van Soldt, W.H., 1995, Solar Omens of Enuma Anu Enlil: Tablets 23(24)–29(30). Uitgaven van het Nederlands Historisch-Archaeologisch Instituut te Istanbul 73 (Istanbul: Nederlands Historisch-Archaeologisch Instituut). van der Spek, R.J., 1985, “The Babylonian Temple during the Macedonian and Parthian Domination”, Bibliotheca Orientalis 42, 541–562. van der Spek, R., J., 2016, “KI.LAM = nadānu in Late Babylonian”, NABU, No. 28, 53. van der Spek, R.J., van Leeuwen, B. and van Zanden, J.L., 2015, A History of Market Performance (London and New York: Routledge). van der Spek, R.J., J.G. Dercksen, K. Kleber and Jursa, “Money, Silver and Trust in Mesopotamia”, in van der Spek and Van Leeuwen 2018, 102–131. Steele, J., 2011, “Goal-year Periods and their use in Predicting Planetary Phenomena”, in G. Selz (ed.), The Empirical Dimensions of Ancient Near Eastern Studies: Die empirische Dimension altorientalischer Forschungen. Wiener Offene Orientalistik 6 (Münster: LIT Verlag), 101–110. Steele, J., 2015a, “Mesopotamian Astrological Geography”, in P. Bartel, G. van Kooten (eds), The Star of Bethlehem and the Magi. Interdisciplinary Perspectives from Experts on the Ancient Near East, the Greco-Roman world, and Modern Astronomy (Leiden: Brill), 201–216. Steele, J., 2015b, “A Late Babylonian Compendium of Calendrical and Stellar Astrology”, Journal of Cuneiform Studies 67, 187–215. Verderame, L., 2002, Le Tavole i–vi della serie astrologica Enūma Anu Enlil. Nisaba 2 (Messina: Dipartimento di Science dell’ antichità, Università di Messina). Wainer, Z., 2016, “Traditions of Mesopotamian Celestial-DivinatorySchemes and the 4th Tablet of Šumma Sin ina Tāmartišu”, in John M. Steele (ed.), The Circulation of Astronomical Knowledge in the Ancient World (Leiden and Boston: Brill), 55–82.

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Wee, J., 2016, “A Late Babylonian Astral Commentary on Marduk’s Address to the Demons”, Journal of Near Eastern Studies 60, 127–167. von Weiher, E., 1993, Uruk. Spätbabylonische Texte aus dem Planquadrat U 18, Teil iv. Ausgrabungen in Uruk-Warka Endberichte, Band 12 (Mainz: Verlag Philipp von Zabern).

Chapter 3

Logging History in Achaemenid, Hellenistic and Parthian Babylonia: Historical Entries in Dated Astronomical Diaries Christopher Tuplin The purpose of this essay is to offer some general observations about the historical notices (reports of non-astronomical events and circumstances) that are a notable feature of Babylonian Astronomical Diaries.1 It is one type of first step on the road to a proper appreciation of the intellectual endeavour represented by the Diaries as a whole and by their various components. 1

Introduction: Identifying the Dataset

What is at stake is discursive and analytical comment on a particular dataset. I start by identifying that dataset. The earliest (adart i No. -651) and latest (adart iii No. -62) surviving Diaries span 590 years, but since (a) texts survive from only five of the first 260 years of that period and (b) those texts contain only four potential historical entries, all pre-Achaemenid and two of them from what is, at best, a protoDiary (adart i No. -651),2 it seems more statistically sensible to see the corpus as running from 392/391 bce and covering just 330 years. 205 of those 330 years are represented by surviving Diaries, 130 of which produce a total of 310 historical entries, listed in the Appendix to this chapter. (Entry numbers appear in bold type in the course of this essay.)3 A headline observation is that only about a quarter of the time covered by the corpus and of the years for which 1 A non-Assyriologist whose normal stamping ground does not include the Macedonian, Seleucid and Parthian eras of Mesopotamian history approaches the enterprise somewhat ­nervously. I thank those who have helped to protect me from error; faults that remain (of omission or commission) are my responsibility. I also particularly thank Reinhard Pirngruber for sending me a copy of his dissertation (Pirngruber 2012; see also n.9). 2 See Steele (this volume). The two entries, though of appropriate political-military content, also do not match the formal criterion for historical entries applied in the discussion that follows. 3 See the check-list on pp. 111–115.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���9 | doi:10.1163/9789004397767_005

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Diaries are preserved come from the Parthian era. But that era accounts for a third of the years containing historical entries and over a half of the actual individual entries. Before pursuing this, some more about the identity of those 310 entries. The raw material is provided by adart—the corpus of Astronomical Diaries that can be assigned a precise year. Three immediate observations. (1) This is not quite a homogeneous set of documents. adart iii No. -99C is from a non-Babylon tradition (perhaps Uruk), as it exceptionally covers three years (SE 212–214) and contains astronomical data not normally present. It has no (surviving) historical entry, so is of no consequence here. adart i No. -302/-301 also covers more than one year (providing excerpts). It does contain a couple of rather opaque historical entries, and therefore is embraced in this discussion. But I do not think this represents a significant category-confusion. Similarly I ignore the facts that some items are “preliminary Diaries” and that there is at least a formal distinction between 1 month, 4 month, and 6 or 7 month Diaries.4 (2) To the material in adart i–iii I add the comparable item published in Hunger and van der Spek 2006 (initially omitted because it had not yet been assigned to a precise year5); and I assume the redesignation of what were published as adart i Nos. -440 and -304 as -381 and -366 respectively.6 (3) I do not include the texts published as bchp 4, 18AB and 18C, which (even if they are parts of Diaries, something very uncertain in the case of bchp 4 at least) cannot reliably be assigned to a precise year.7 The same goes for the putative Diary fragment in Horowitz 1995: the dating to Xerxes’ reign is speculative and the form of the document (with a report about Mars and Cancer embedded directly between two apparent historical reports) is peculiar. Within my corpus I address narrative material at the end of month-entries.8 On this (again) three immediate observations. (1) I ignore two categories of 4 See Mitsuma (2015a). 5 Other items dated subsequent to publication of adart i–iii will appear in adart iv, so cannot be taken into account here. 6 Koch (1991/1992); van der Spek (1993: 96). 7 bchp 4 could belong to 331, 323 or a Seleucid date; bchp 18AB and 18C belong in 138–120 (perhaps 135–132). In the latter case the absence of substantive tie-up with historical entries in adart iii is notable, but there are two years hereabouts without surviving Diaries (-128, -127) and five others are quite poorly represented (-135, -131, -126, -121, -120). bchp 18C is reminiscent of material in adart i–iii. The 40 line text of bchp 18AB is six lines longer than the longest item in adart i–iii (172), has a slightly unusual concentration of references to general grief or joy and a definitely unusual reference to Bagajaša becoming angry and (apparently) giving a speech. But perhaps this is insufficient to put it in a different Diary tradition. 8 In a few cases (82, 97, 102 — and indeed bchp 18C) river-level data, which in principle precede historical entries, appear in the middle of one. I do not count such data as (­exceptionally)

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material useful to the historian that appears elsewhere, viz. food-price indications and dating formulae.9 (2) There are over forty cases (mostly pre-­Parthian) in which material of the sort found in end-of-month historical entries appears instead among the daily observations that constitute the first section of a Diary entry. The categories of subject matter involved include “falls of fire” (at least 11 examples), locust attacks (at least 19 examples),10 animal omens (adart i Nos. -373A rev. 9, -324B rev. 6, -322D obv. 3–4, -284 obv. 5), earthquake (adart ii No. -251 rev. 11), unusual weather (adart i No. -373A obv. 9–10; adart ii Nos. -249 rev. 14, -246 obv. 17–18, -226A rev. 4), temple or ritual issues (adart i No. -343 obv. 12–14), disease (adart i No. -330 obv. 4), sundry opaque items (adart i Nos. -373B rev. 17 and -277C 3’; adart ii No. -214 u.e. 2) and — most interestingly perhaps — references to panic (adart i Nos. -309 obv. 9 and -277A obv. 6; the former may reflect the activities of Antigonus mentioned briefly in an adjacent historical entry), and references to the royal family (adart i Nos. -378 obv. 5 and -322B obv. 8), of which one is opaque, but the other is—­startlingly— the death of Alexander the Great, an event one might have thought deserved a proper historical notice.11 (3) I am also effectively double-counting some material. In twelve cases the same month has historical entries in two different Diary exemplars.12 I keep the two entries as separate items in the catalogue, as they are different non-identical compositions.

9

10 11 12

part of a historical entry. It can be difficult to distinguish astronomical or water-level data from historical entries: cases considered but rejected include adart i Nos. -368 obv. 14 and -322 obv. 6; adart ii Nos. -257A obv. 15 and -164A rev. 12. Virtually or entirely lost bits of text at e.g. adart iii No. -157A rev. 14–u.e. 3 or adart iii No. -62 obv. 17–20 might have been historical entries. The phrase “that month ZI IR” (normally, and quite often, found in the daily observation section) appears by itself at the end of a month in adart ii Nos. -257A rev. 1 and -255A rev. 3. Hunger in Sachs and Hunger (1988: 34) sees it as a weather term; but uncertainty as to its meaning leads me to leave it out of account. I also leave out the odd dating formula in adart ii No. -213 u.e. 1–2 (“[…year 13]8, king Antiochus the rest … the great door”). Food-price entries occasionally move beyond the formulaically statistical, e.g. adart i No. -324B obv. 12–13: “the sale of barley and everything else was cut off in the streets of Babylon until the 5th”; adart iii No. -107D obv. 30–31: “big and small, wailing and anxiety in the city…. […] until the 22nd, selling was interrupted in the streets of Babylon”. The interaction of market prices and other events is treated in Pirngruber (2012) and (2017). Potential interaction between daily observations and end-of-entry historical notices is illustrated by 76 where the historical notice (about locusts) summarises information given in the daily observations. Another royal item is the reference to king and crown prince in adart i No. -378 obv. 5. — Incidentally, I see little future in linking our Diaries with the royal ephemerides that figure in the Alexander tradition. 69, 70; 90, 91; 93, 94; 150, 151; 172, 173; 203, 205; 223, 224, 226; 229, 230; 234, 236; 244, 245; 261, 262; 266, 268. On occasion, different exemplars combined in adart i-iii into a single

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Analysing the Dataset

In analysing the material the essential issues are the general incidence of entries and the types of content (and particular incidence thereof): what do ­diarists tell us about, how often or rarely do they tell us those things, and how stereotypical or individual are they? 2.1 Incidence In raw terms we have proportionately far more entries for the Parthian era. This is not because a disproportionate number of Parthian years are represented by surviving Diaries. (In that respect the Seleucid era should have an advantage.) It is because a very high percentage (85%) of Diaries surviving from the Parthian era contain historical entries (the Seleucid figure is 56%, the late Achaemenid/early Hellenistic 55%) and perhaps also because of a higher chance that an individual year will be represented by multiple entries (all of the years with five or more entries are Parthian). Are there any statistical illusions here? Might it be the case that more Parthian years contain historical entries because surviving Parthian-era Diaries are better preserved—the texts are more intact, so the historical bits are more likely to show up? Probably not. The 54 Parthian Diaries occupy 387 pages of adart i–iii. That is proportionately more than the 122 Seleucid Diaries (776 pages)—7.2 pp. per Diary as against 6.4 for the Seleucid ones—but it is hardly a huge difference, especially as the figures embrace translation as well as transliteration. One’s initial feeling that there are more relatively long individual entries in Parthian Diaries does not stand up to scrutiny (13% of Parthian entries are seven lines or more as against 13% of Seleucid and 12% of Achaemenid/ Early Hellenistic), though there is an exceptional 34 line entry of Parthian date in 172. And I am not sure there are many more Parthian Diaries with long preserved lines. So the difference in space (or in the visibility of Parthian historical entries) cannot simply be accounted for in that way. Is there anything about multiple entry years that improperly biases things towards the Parthian era? Are high-figure multiple years (years with lots of monthly entries preserved, often because of the survival of several exemplars) strongly represented from 141 bce onwards? The number of such cases is, of text have divergences: in 49 Stratonice is Queen in one copy, but GAŠAN = bēltu (divine lady) in another. (The writing of her name plays on Astarte and niqû = sacrifice; cf. Del Monte 1997: 41–42.) Variation is also possible in weather observations or the summary of planetary positions.

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course, small. But, although belonging in just fifteen years (28% of the Parthian Diary corpus), years with five or more preserved entries account for 66% of Parthian historical entries. So they actually make a very significant contribution. It is not just because there are more multi-exemplar years at later dates. It is possible to have four or more exemplars without generating the seven, eight or nine historical entries that survive for -140, -137, -132 or -107: e.g. adart ii No. -170 is represented by nine exemplars but only produces three historical entries. That suggests there has been an objective increase in the Parthian era. But such numbers of entries in a single year (seven or more) are never common (even if confined to the Parthian era), so could it be that they cluster in 141 bce onwards accidentally? The question is important as it touches on the degree to which diarists had an inclination to ensure that there was some historical material every month. And truthfully I do not know what the answer is. Still, nothing obviously invalidates the prima facie impression that historical entries are more common at the end of the time-span of our corpus. To problematise that view would clearly require more subtle statistical analysis. Failing such subtlety, I add instead that, whereas 56% (68) of the 122 Seleucid era years for which there are Diaries have historical entries, the figure rises to 64% (39 out of 61) for the second half of the era (i.e. -210 to -141) and 77% (23 out of 30) for the last quarter (-176 to -141). So one might claim that there was a rising trend. Then again the percentages in the first quarter, half and threequarters of the Parthian era are 92%, 93% and 90% (before dropping to 71% in the final 14 years). So there is also a sudden sharp rise in and after 141/140 bce, not simply the continuation of a gradual increase.13 So: one cannot easily eliminate the prima facie unevenness of incidence; and there even seems to be a surge when the Parthians arrive. Dr Pirngruber discerns a link with a decline in the Chronicle tradition. But perhaps the scholars just genuinely felt they were living in interesting times. 13

The first year of the Parthian era (141/140 bce) has seven surviving entries, the highest so far. Of Seleucid years with four entries (that era’s maximum) one is -261 (262/261 bce), the year of Antiochus I’s death in month ii. Diary entries (v, vii, viii, xii 2) include an impalement, seizure of fields, guards and a fortress, and the collection of valuables in a royal palace for safe keeping; one might feel that the diarist was responding to unusually interesting times. This is less obvious with adart ii No. -226, written two years before Seleucus iii’s accession (225/224 bce; the exact date of Seleucus ii’s death is unknown), where the four entries, apart from a fleeting reference to troops, provide only religious material, though it includes two lots of incantations and recitation of eršaḫunga-tablets by the chief lamentation priest, which might be a response to problematic circumstances (cf. Del Monte 1997: 53).

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2.2 Content Analysing content presupposes figuring out what the content is. These are fragmentary documents so that is a real issue. (They are also documents recopied from originals, so the possibility of textual corruption must be considered.)14 In search of the contents of historical entries we face the fact that not everything can be entirely clearly understood. There is, in other words, the issue of opaque entries. Opacity can happen in different ways (and may be differently perceived). At the highest level of impenetrability I distinguish three categories: – [A] Not enough survives to interpret (there is no “event”): essentially there is no verb or no noun(s) to go with any verb – [B] Almost exactly similar: there is no “event” – except what might be implicit in a proper or common noun – [C] There is enough text for there to be an event but not for us to figure out what it is and there are no nouns evoking one of the standard categories of report About 28% of entries fall into one or other of these three categories; but only 13% into either A or C, the maximally impenetrable ones. These figures relate to entire entries. I have not systematically inspected longer entries for the parts within them that are opaque:15 that would be desirable, both for completeness and because one thing at stake here is the aspiration to determine how much material was not formulaic or assignable to the predominant categories of content. For the moment, though, the headline observation is that 87% of entries are at least partially intelligible. So, things could be worse—but would be better if we could delete the phrase “at least partially”. General inspection draws attention to royal, military and religious as the three big categories of intelligible material. Treated without further differentiation (as to content-type and date) they account for similar proportions of the 310 entries, royal at 31%, military at 38% and religious at 36%—but it should be kept in mind that marking something as royal need only entail the presence of the word “king” and mutatis mutandis the same goes for other categories. If one analyses the three categories in terms of date one observes that: – religious content is decidedly more common in the Seleucid era (50% of Seleucid entries, with a slight increase as the era progresses) and scores somewhat poorly in the Parthian (only 28%)

14 15

Cf. p. 105 for a possible case. For fair copies of original records cf. Sachs and Hunger (1988: 12), Mitsuma (2015a). Examples might include 35, 43, 56, 57, 80, 90, 150, 151, 162, 196, 211.

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– royal content is somewhat more common in the Seleucid era as against Parthian (37% and 28% of salient entries), though this would be reduced if all messages whose sender is now unidentifiable were royal (as 78% of those with known originator are) and we would perhaps do better not to draw any big distinction here – military content is decidedly more common in the Parthian era (45% of Parthian entries, by comparison with 29% of Seleucid ones), though the difference is much more modest (17%/13%) in the 42% of military entries that involve actual fighting, as opposed to simply mentioning military officials or bodies of troops. The 17% figure would increase slightly if one factored in proxy indicators such as references to Arab incursions and/or fear and panic, or the one word “fled” in 130. Pirngruber 2013 has suggested that the prominence of politics and warfare in the Diaries is one sign of the genre’s intrinsic connection with divination, since political history, military events and the fate of the king are standard features of omen apodoses. Where religious material sits in relation to this sort of argument, at least when it records ordinary cultic activity (but cf. n.24), and the implications of its varying prominence, are issues that would merit further investigation. It is, in any case, possible that the actual practice of historical Diary-keeping was somewhat remote from the theoretical possibility of a predictive interconnection between celestial phenomena and terrestrial politics. Perhaps it would be safer to say that the diarists felt it appropriate to extend the daily or monthly observation and recording of stars, planets, weather and river-levels (the world of nature) to events in the world of humans living amid these phenomena because the natural and human worlds were, after all, part of a single whole.16 Meanwhile, by way of further analysis of the three categories, I note first that about half of the military entries that do not explicitly refer to fighting do refer to bodies of troops, not just to military commanders. When a commander enters Babylon troops are implicitly present, but explicit references to them are more likely to entail properly military narrative: such cases are twice as common among Parthian entries as among Seleucid ones. So there is not just more military content in the Parthian era but probably more military ­activity—hence perhaps greater interest from the diarists? Many royal entries are of unclear content and many others qualify only because a place or person qualified as “of the king” turns up17 or because 16 Recent discussion: Rochberg (2011). 17 In 116 we have counsellors or experts (mūdû) of the Babylonian king (according to the Sachs and Hunger translation) or a Babylonian expert of the king (as suggested by an

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s­ omeone sacrifices for the life of the king and/or members of the royal family (but only rarely queens: 88, 99), an act occasionally accompanied by prostration.18 Positive royal actions include fighting, sending messages (often about appointments), issuing orders, moving from A to B, taking part in religious ceremonies, (more opaquely) seizing fields — and dying (themselves19 or their queens20). Such items account for only 40% of royal-content items. But perhaps that is not a bad score, and, of course, many (now) unclear items — 31% of royal-content items — may once have contained distinctive royal actions.21 The king is still actually or implicitly present rather more than the aggregate of satraps, generals and pāḫātū of Babylon. One would have to add in the Esagila šatammu to tip the balance the other way — which it would do quite handsomely.22 That draws one’s attention to religious content.23 Although building ­activity, temple workshops and theft of temple property are notable categories, the bulk of the material (not surprisingly) relates to sacrifices or — less ­commonly  — other rituals, festivals and merry-making. Many sacrifices are associated with the arrival of some functionary in Babylon and/or the making of offerings for the life of the king and/or some other important person (satraps or the like can also sacrifice for their own life). All of this verges on the

18 19 20 21 22

23

a­ nonymous reviewer). This is the Diaries’ only use of that word in connection with a “king”, and the reading is open to suspicion. (The same anonymous reviewer moots mukin7 LUGAL. But “witness of the king” does not seem particularly appropriate to the context, while the more plausible sounding “confirmation”, “order” or “register” of the king depends on the evidence of a single text: see cad s.v. mukinnu (2).) Is it relevant that Antiochus iv was recently dead, Lysias was in charge as Antiochus v’s regent and we are at the start of a period of dynastic disturbance visible in subsequent Diary entries? See also n.67. On these sacrifices (attested from 205–108 bce) see Pirngruber (2010), Mitsuma (2015b), Visscher (this volume). 115, 271. The news occasioning fear in 59 may be the death of Antiochus ii. But Alexander the Great’s death (as noted: p. 81) does not appear in a historical entry. Stratonice (49) and Laodice (96), the latter strictly speaking only a rumour. SavalliLestrade (2015) reviews information about the (often violent) deaths of Hellenistic royal women. Further comment on the role of kings in the Diaries: Visscher (this volume) and Haubold (this volume). From the diarists’ perspective the šatammu is the principal authority-figure in the native Babylonian community. Clancier (2012a) discerns an essentially hereditary role, but Boiy (2004: 201) cautions that we only know this in a limited number of cases. 196 reports someone’s appointment to the office “instead of […]”, which Boiy suspects reveals royal interference. The punctiliousness with which observations were made night after night gives the whole enterprise underlying the Diaries a quasi-ritual character.

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banal and s­ tereotypical. At the same time — precisely because of the presence of the ­stereotypical — one is conscious of entries recording unusual ­religious events:24 a story involving Borsippa and a sailor-prophet stretching over 171–173; the unusually complex ceremonies for Antiochus iii in 88 (during which he even prayed in a Babylonian fashion25); other unusual events in Borsippa and Cutha in 244 and 299; the apparently unhappy visit of a Subartian (i.e. Parthian) official to Esagila in 240; the putative imposition of t­axation or confiscation upon animals previously given to cities and cult centres (māḫāzū), presumably for sacrificial use, in 34; notes about sacrifices not happening or being withheld in 76, 122, 124 and 187; the puzzling narrative in 199 about a wooden royal throne “in the design of a man” (and called thronos in Greek) which is successively taken from the royal palace by Aspasine, given as an honorific gift to Bēl and removed from the Day One temple.26 (This comes in an entry whose narrative configuration is remarkable for other reasons: pp. 105–106.) Meanwhile, the references to Borsippa remind us that the focus is not unswervingly on Esagila. Other temples can be mentioned – though not their functionaries: the šatammu of Esagila rules the roost so far as that goes. And the only other religious (or temple-related) functionaries of any sort seem to be temple judges (111), overseer of oblates (164), the mādidu (92), the rab kumar of temples (308)27 and the zazakku (111, 116).28 But not everything has royal, military or religious content. In fact the incidence of entries entirely devoid of these things approaches that of those that have each of them, viz. 30%, with the proportion declining slightly over time (40% in Achaemenid/Early Hellenistic, 28% in Seleucid, 31% in Parthian). Some such entries are entirely opaque, others near-opaque. Many of the latter group (20 out of 25) probably could in fact be royal, military or religious. The exceptions involve someone being killed (82), a man with an iron dagger (66), unspecified unhappiness (283), a herald shouting about children (161) and a mysterious fragment involving silver, water level and something being 24

25 26 27 28

Temple-employed scholars would not find the ordinary round of sacrificial/ritual activity worth mention. If one sets aside what is recorded because it intersects with the royal/ political/military world, what is left is quite likely to be irregular — and perhaps more so than fragmentary texts allow one to grasp. His association with the New Year festival in 80 is affected by Kosmin’s thesis (Kosmin forthcoming) about the Day 1 temple and the akītu temple. See van der Spek (2000: 436–437). On the title rab kumar (also attested in the royal treasury: 183, 240) see Mitsuma (2005). An agent of royal interests in temple environments. These are the only allusions to the zazakku in Hellenistic cuneiform texts (Clancier 2012a: 316), perhaps because the role was only temporarily re-introduced as an extra royal control on temple finances (Boiy 2004: 224). Cf. also Clancier and Monerie (2014).

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torn down (2). Not opaque but unusual are the death of Aspasine and its consequences (201), and the death of the Armenian king and its consequences (262–264). That leaves a substantial number of items dealing with topics that also appear in entries that also have royal, military or religious content. We thus come to some other repeated topics. These new topics are not necessarily far removed from the main three: odd birth-stories, strange animal behaviour and “falls of fire” are, as presumably ominous events, a species of religious item.29 But locusts, weather, famine, disease, accidental fire (other than “fall of fire”), blocked roads and hydraulic work most naturally belong in a domain rarely represented and in its own right in historical entries, viz. events with economic impact in Babylonia.30 (The use of copper coins and sale of children in 34 and the intrusion of a food-price datum into a historical entry in 35 are rare — and early — exceptions.31) At the same time all (except hydraulic work) involve damaging natural events and could doubtless be regarded as ominous (and so religious).32 The comparative infrequency of references to hydraulic work in a world so dependent on canals and in a textual genre that standardly records river-levels is striking: the relevant entries come from just three different years (five from a single year) and one must assume there were exceptional circumstances — the by-product of bad weather or flooding not recorded in its own right. (Flood is very rarely recorded in its own right: 66 seems to be the only case. We hear more often about the failure of rain and flood: 9, 16, 64, 240, 243, 285, 305.) Another infrequently mentioned activity is census-taking (n.52): perhaps that too only occurred in exceptional circumstances — though discerning what these circumstances were from the adjacent entries would be a rather speculative exercise.33 We have typologised entries in terms of kinds of event. We might also do so in terms of location. The texts are not in the business of evoking a sense 29 Birth-stories: 8, 54, 202, 206, 260, 279, 299. Animals: 6, 35, 78, 153, 167, 176, 190, 199, 242, 243. Falls of fire: 29, 56, 63, 65, 66, 85, 102, 157, 244. 30 Locusts: 4, 62, 73, 76, 81, 177, 209. Weather: 48, 68, 112?, 140, 189?, 240, 243, 285, 305; cf. notes about flood (16, 64) or high water (9) being cut off. Famine: 7, 34 (in Babylonia: people sold their children), 135 (Antioch), 153 (Susa/Elam). Animal disease: 133, 225, 227; crop disease: 16, 206; human disease: 11, 12, 34, 37, 38, 62, 119, 140, 160?, 219, 220, 238, 239, 240, 242, 247, 266, 268, 284, 286; illness of important individuals: 160, 165, 201. Accidental fire: 82, 193, 195, 206. Blocked roads: 300, 301. Hydraulic work: 231, 232, 233, 234, 266, 268, 304?. 31 And in the first case perhaps a sign of the unusually parlous results of military mobilisation. See also n.9. 32 112 attributes destructive bad weather to the storm god (a trope reminiscent of omen literature). Compare references to Adad in 189 and adart iii No. -136B rev. 11. 33 See also n.91.

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of place,34 but we can consider the presence of names of cities, rivers, ethnic groups or geographical areas.35 94 distinct entries (30% of the total dataset)36 provide a total of some 45 such names.37 The number was certainly once larger, since the fragmentary state of the documents denies us names in a fair number of documents,38 and there could theoretically have been even more, were it not for the diarists’ habit of referring to anonymous groups of cities.39 Names designating peoples or places outside Babylonia occur in 22% of the dataset (69 distinct entries). Parthian era texts account for 68% of these entries, and such references are more than three times more frequent in Parthian texts than in Seleucid ones. (The figures are boosted by the presence of 18 references to Arab incursions between 130 and 106 bce.) Places in Babylonia — other than the frequently mentioned Babylon and Seleucia40 — occur in only 11% of the overall dataset, mostly in Parthian material (74% of salient entries) and over Landscape, apart from rivers/canals, is largely ignored (the steppe appears in 117, 287, 290, reed marshes in 157, mountains in 12, 13, 266) and distances quantified just twice (175, 222, both in bēru). 216 speaks of the “remote” land of Gutium. 35 Category confusions are possible: Armenia appears to be a city in 261–264 and the same may be true of Hyrcania in 146 (if Urqananu = Hyrcania). Sardis is a land in 34, a city in 49. It might be optimistic to regard “the land of Samine, a famous city of the land Kupru” (5) as showing conscious awareness of the ambivalence of the concept of polis. Occasionally territories are given the label “province”: Media (156, 266, 267, 282), Elam (154), Assyria (152), name lost (141, 179). (See also van der Spek 2015; cf. n.39.) In 157 the diarist draws attention to an unusual ethnonym: the “[…]kallutreans as they are ca[lled]” (van der Spek 2015: 113). Somewhat similarly a Greek word (199) and a Greek rite (109) are specifically noted. 36 68% from the Parthian era, 20% from the Seleucid and 12% from the pre-Seleucid. 37 Not necessarily distinct places, since Urqananu and Arqania might both be Hyrcania, Subartu and Habilgabat presumably allude respectively to Assyria and Armenia, and Meluhha is certainly used for Egypt (cf. n.85). – For these purposes I do not count Babylon, Seleucia (on the Tigris), the Euphrates or the Tigris. 38 e.g. 80, 113, 141, 149, 150, 153, 157, 160, 173, 179, 189, 257, 270, 288, 292, 303. These are predominantly Parthian era items, so the disproportion noted above would have been more pronounced. 39 There are over thirty such cases of various sorts, not all affected by van der Spek’s argument (2015) that “cities” (URUmeš) can sometimes signify “land”: cf. nn. 85, 87. 40 There are some 80 references to Seleucia, in some of which one or more of three additional labels appear, “on the Tigris”, “on the royal canal”, and “royal city”. “On the Tigris” appears quite often (some 36 times), the others much less frequently (royal city: 34, 88, 104, 135, 146; royal canal: 96, 99, 104, 117, 152, 157), and only one entry (104) uses all three together. (There is no obvious reason for this special case.) Reference to the royal canal is the label that occurs over the shortest span of time (96–157 = 182–138 bce). In many cases (33 times) we just have the name, but at least some will be the result of fragmentary preservation, so originally it was probably relatively rarer than it now seems. There was a need to distinguish Seleucia ad Tigrim from homonymous cities; but often (e.g. official 34

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four times more frequently in Parthian texts than Seleucid ones. The range of Babylonian places specifically mentioned is not great, considering that it is the home territory — if indeed the diarists thought that way (at least about anywhere except Babylon’s sister-city Borsippa): Borsippa (14), Uruk (5),41 Nippur (3), Sippar (3), Seleucia-on-Euphrates (3),42 Kār-Aššur (3), Cutha and its canal (3), the Suru canal (2),43 the Piqudu canal (2), Pallukatu canal (1), Ḫišalla (1), Marad (1).44 Such places are characteristically mentioned when something happens there. With extra-Babylonian toponyms/ethnonyms it is less straightforward. Many occur because people are reported to be going to or coming from foreign places: the number of entries about events actually occurring in foreign place is more modest — perhaps fewer than 25 in the dataset,45 equally divided between the Parthian and pre-Parthian eras.46 Back in Babylonia one should also note comings and goings in Seleucia and B ­ abylon – that is, the quite large number of entries (approaching 60) that relate to people (sometimes identifiable, sometimes not, but presumably always kings, officials or dignitaries) travelling in and out of Seleucia and/or Babylon, and not

41

42 43 44

45 46

trips between Babylon and Seleucia) context made it clear anyway. (I have assumed the Seleucia in 50 is the one in Pieria.) Among cities of historic stature Uruk stands out as appearing only in the Parthian era (three of the references being in a single year, 138/137 bce). Whether this reflects objective loss of importance in Seleucid times or the changing viewpoint of scholars in Babylon is hard to say. See further Stevens (this volume). Perhaps at Sippar: Clancier (2012b: 17). Ṣurru (198) is presumably distinct, but might designate either Tyre or a Mesopotamian homonym (Zadok 1985: 280–281). Given this uncertainty I have left it out of my figures. One verbal feature worth incidental note is that the “surroundings” (usually limītu) of a city occur eleven times in and after 125 bce, but not before (192, 194, 240, 249, 259, 261, 271, 272, 273, 303, 304). (Both Babylonian and non-Babylonian locations are involved.) 194, “entered into the city to the surroundings of Esabad”, is rather opaque. 10, 13, 17, 20, 34, 35, 49, 51, 90, 109, 135, 138, 140, 149, 153, 157, 172, 174, 199, 201, 216, 224, 262, 272. Equally divided because mere journey to/from references are proportionately much more common in Parthian era texts. Infrequency of allusion to extra-Babylonian events means that the Diaries are poor evidence for the wider history of the empires of which Babylon was part. It is also worth remembering that 17 offers no toponym for the battle mentioned there: we rely on independent knowledge to identify Gaugamela and recognise an extraBabylonian event. That is a certain result; by contrast putative connections between 7 and Egypt or 13 and eastern Anatolia are entirely speculative. We see more of the politicomilitary histoire événementielle of Babylonia itself, but often through a glass darkly: cf. e.g. 40–43 (adart i No. -261), 47 (adart ii No. -255), 62 (adart ii No. -237), 63 (adart ii No. -234).

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i­ nfrequently between the two (21 certain cases and potentially another 20, out of 56 journeys) – and even on a round trip between the two (six certain items, and another five potential). The only other fully recorded round trip is Media to Babylon and back in 240, and Media is one of only six other preserved startor end-points, the most commonly attested of which (four times) is the royal camp.47 As already noted in passing, a recurrent feature of these journey texts (21 items: 38%) is the performance of a sacrifice at Esagila with victims supplied by the šatammu and assembly – these cases create a sense of formulaic performance surrounding such journeys that readily spills over (in this reader’s mind anyway) to the wider record. The sense of an official simply showing his face in Babylon in an utterly standard process is particularly strong in wellpreserved entries such as 99 or 104. But occasionally something odd happens: in 124 (a satrapal visit) an offering “did not take place”. So: much in the dataset falls into recognizable categories and contributes to the sense of formula and repetition that is engendered by browsing in the Diaries. But there is also a persistent interplay of the usual and the unusual. Let me try to pursue that in other ways, approaching essentially from the vantage point of the unusual. There are unusual events.48 Some are fragmentarily recorded: the herald crying in the land about children (161), a drop in fish-stocks (253), a pricecheck for salad (35), a “notable” dying of a stroke (160), widespread recovery from sickness (11,12: sickness reports are normally less cheery), a possible reference to a marriage (10749), use of the rack of interrogation in a context other than theft of temple property (150), the tantalisingly fragmentary statement that “this son of his had silver and gold like other … made for the kingship” (197), an equally tantalising allusion to large quantities of silver and gold (27), an incomplete story about three royal soldiers (203), a reference to bricks becoming massive (176). Other unusual occurrences are recorded rather more fully: the cursing of the general Antiochus in 150 (a non-standard element in a lengthy military narrative), the ceremonies for Antiochus iii in 88, the notvery-clear story of the sailor-prophet in 172–173,50 the not-much-clearer story of the Subartian substitute rab kumar in 240. Quite often (at least in later parts of the corpus) we read that the šatammu and assembly provide specified animals for sacrifice; back in 33 the general gives a bull and some sheep to the 47 Mitsuma (2004) draws attention to these cases. 48 And non-events: in 81 locusts attack — and cause no damage. 49 Del Monte (1997: 75). Denied by van der Spek (2000: 436). 50 173 is (the ill-preserved remnants of) a parallel account to 172 from a different Diary exemplar for the same month (vii); see further Dirven (this volume).

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Esagila butchers for the regular offerings of Bel. How significant an oddity is that? The text makes no comment; nor does it in 164, where “one of the citizens (politai)” performs the sacrifice,51 or 299 where the šatammu, Babylonians and assembly of Esangil are unusually said to act “of their own free will”, though the text is incompletely preserved and might once have been more forthcoming. Other non-standard things occur more than once — poll-tax (but only in two texts referring to the same month: 90, 91), a census, the death of a queen, fighting inside Babylon,52 impalement.53 Twice we find ourselves at moments of fundamental change: the end of the Achaemenid dispensation (18) and the shift from Seleucid to Parthian rule (146). In each case the report is detailed but essentially matter-of-fact. The explicit reference to Alexander’s arrival in Babylon (coming after the report of Gaugamela in the preceding entry) in one sense gives the transition of 331 bce somewhat clearer contours than that of 141 bce, especially as we may already be in the new era in 145, before the first clear allusion to the Parthians.54 But there is fuller surviving narrative of subsequent events in/after 141 bce than in/after 331 bce and, although this is affected by the accident of the survival or otherwise of salient Diary entries, it serves to underline the new state of affairs rather more clearly.55 By contrast with both of these moments, the start of the Seleucid era, though reflected by the annotation “Seleucus was general” in date-formulae in adart i Nos. -309 rev. 11, u.e. 1 and -308 obv. 1, rev. 17 and allusions to panic in the land (adart i No. -309 obv. 9) and to military action by Antigonus’ troops in 26, is largely missing.56 The proximate cause is the absence of preserved Diaries between -321 and -309: whether this is merely accidental or actually reflects the troubled times is hard to say.

51

This is one of what Mitsuma (2015b: 121) designates an “anomalous” group, but he does not comment on the identity of the performer. 52 Census: 138, 164, 251. Death of queen: n.20. Fighting in Babylon: 43, 47, 62, 63, 69, 117, 173?, 289?, 305. 53 30, 41, both in tantalisingly fragmentary entries. Since religious criminals were burned, we are presumably dealing with political criminals; and, suitably, 41 is one of a series of entries for -261 which have an allure of disorder (cf. n.13). 54 Cf. Boiy (2004: 167). 55 The apparent double-dating within 146 in Seleucid (171) and Parthian eras (107), restored by Del Monte (1997: 103), also marks the epochal quality of 141 bce. (Era-dates only rarely appear within historical entries.) Even with few Diaries surviving one is struck by the absence of further historical material about Alexander and by his death (an event in Babylon) appearing so curtly and in the daily observations section, not as a historical notice (p. 81). 56 Boiy (2004: 125–137) gives a brief general account of the evidence.

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Eighteen texts (over two thirds from the Parthian era) talk about fear or ­panic.57 This is normally something happening “in the land” or affecting the ­people – though in one entry about strife in Babylon it is the people (and the šaknu of the king) who are the cause of fear to a specific set of officials (117). Another unusual case appears in the Gaugamela entry (17), where panic (ḫattu) occurs not in Babylonia but in the (Persian) king’s camp. This passage has been discussed by Rollinger and Ruffing, who reject attempts to discover a rational reason for the panic (in e.g. the news that Alexander had crossed the Tigris or the prospect of a lunar eclipse) and see it in terms of the existential dread that Assyrian kings picture falling upon their foes when confronted by Assyrian might.58 If one views the item in the light of other panic-and-fear entries in the Diaries (something Rollinger and Ruffing do not do), one must say there is no strong reason to think the emotion in those cases is not straightforwardly caused by a real situation. One might even say that it is often associated precisely with enemy incursions into Babylonia and so recalls Alexander crossing the Tigris.59 Of course we cannot judge whether the fear in other Diary entries is disproportionate to the real stimulus,60 and we may feel (inter alia because of the rhetorical pairing of “panic and fear” in 139) that there is an element of formulaic literary trope: the pleasing symmetry in 157, which records first that Elamites cause panic in Babylonia and then, after Aspasine intervenes, that there is panic in Elam, suggests a diarist consciously playing with such a trope. But the existence of a trope does not entail panic of a quasisupernatural sort — or, at any rate, panic of a purely quasi-supernatural sort: there can be rational reasons for what a literary text pictures in dramatic and intertextually evocative terms. In Rollinger and Ruffing’s reading of the Gaugamela text (which they quite properly stress is an ex post facto assessment of the event) panic interacts with what (in a new rendering of line 17) they understand as Darius and his army deserting the battlefield: the Persian forces are collectively overwhelmed by existential dread. The Diary tradition casts no light on this, as desertion is not a trope of its military reports (the closest I have spotted is 305: “the few troops The terms are ḫattu (17, 139, 151, 157(bis), 198, 202), gilittu (139, 153, 163, 208, 270, 288, 291, 293) and puluḫtu (59, 117, 271). See also adart i Nos. -309 obv. 9 and. -277A obv. 6. 58 Rollinger and Ruffing (2012). The “totally revised and updated version” in Rollinger 2016 makes no salient alterations. 59 Specifically Arab ones — to the point that, even when the ethnic is absent, one wonders e.g. whether it was Arabs who killed the chief of guard between Borsippa and Babylon in 194. 60 In 59 the food-price data perhaps sit ill with there having been a really major cause of upset (Del Monte 1997: 48). 57

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that were with him turned away from him [the Elamite king] and went up to the mountains”), so Rollinger and Ruffing might maintain that its presence at Gaugamela helps to distinguish that text’s use of the panic/fear trope from the rest of the corpus. But, on the whole, that risks petitio principii. They would do better to justify interpreting the text in isolation from other Diaries by insisting on the distinction I began with (panic among soldiers in a battlefield camp is different from panic in a general population) and perhaps on the fact that Gaugamela irreversibly changed things in Babylonia in a way not true of other occasions of fear in Diary entries — though how quickly Esagila scholars would have taken that to be apparent is debatable. But I remain unsure that it is an adequate justification for their implicit view that the panic is entirely unhistorical. Events can happen in unusual locations. It is startling to encounter an apadana in Seleucia in 87 bce (282) nearly 250 years after the Achaemenid era.61 Similarly isolated is a fragmentary reference to Arabs in 330 bce (19), nearly 200 years before they become a recurrent problem — though an Arab road does appear in 144 bce (141). To the Achaemenid historian the most remarkable site is Cypriot Salamis in 5, the only city-naming outside the Asian land-mass. (The text also mentions the land Iamuniammu, but which bit of “Ionia” this should be is not clear.62) I had hoped systematic work on the Diaries might suggest a more precise explanation of this entry, but it has not: it is just too fragmentary. The date is March–April 381 and we are near the end of the war with Evagoras, but why it caught the diarist’s attention is quite unclear. That it did, however, is certainly a reminder that we should not downplay the conflict’s importance just because Isocrates cries it up so much (4.141, 9.57–69). It destabilised the Eastern Mediterranean and Levant and provoked a major military response, so, if the entry shows that the King was seen as having taken an interest, that would be no surprise.63 61

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Not survival of a term locally in regular use (it never appears in Achaemenid era Babylonian documents) but fresh introduction of an Iranian term for a specific building in Seleuceia to which it was appropriate: Stolper (2006: 233–234). – Another (non-­architectural) term with Achaemenid resonances making an isolated appearance in 169/168 bce is gardu (111, with van der Spek 2000: 436). Stolper (2006: 244) reports only one other postAchaemenid occurrence (brm 2.44, 160–157 bce). This is the only time that “Ionian” designates a territory. Elsewhere it is used of persons (18, 21, 90) or in reference to Greek language (199) or customs (109). In 25 and 32 Ḫani effectively designates Macedonia. But we do not have to postulate his personal presence in or near Cyprus, pace Briant (2002: 985). The phrasing of Diod. 15.2 proves nothing (cf. 15.41), and it is inconceivable that Isocrates would not have mentioned what he could have depicted as Artaxerxes’ personal embarrassment. The entry was discussed at length in van der Spek (1998: 240–251).

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There are also unexpected individuals. 57 reveals an otherwise unknown daughter of Antiochus, 58 a databara (an official with an Iranian title64) well into the Seleucid era and one who appears between the šatammu and the ­assembly (kiništu): something odd seems to be happening here in a text from 246 bce that also mentions Seleucus, the king’s son.65 Back in the Achaemenid era we find what may be a mašennu (an important crown official: Stolper 1985, 45–49) being appointed satrap, not a career path otherwise attested (12).66 Another notable official, the zazakku (cf. n.28), appears a couple of times in the later Seleucid period (111, 116). In the first text the šatammu’s brother (and erstwhile substitute) is appointed to the office; in the second, five years later, the zazakku substitutes for the šatammu. Could it be that something was not as it should be in Esagila? King’s counsellors are also mentioned but the situation remains opaque.67 Perhaps relatedly (or perhaps because of Antiochus iv’s recent death), six months later the pāḫātu and the rab sikkati were involved in a violent stand-off with the royal šaknu and Babylonian people. That in turn is a rare example of something non-formulaic being reported about the pāḫātu.68 So too with satraps: 65–70% of references are simply to their going on journeys. The more interesting activities of satraps in 34 (274 bce) and 43 (262 bce) are unusual.69 Meanwhile the otherwise unattested rab sikkati recalls the 64 65

Cf. Stolper (2006: 230–231), Tuplin (2015: 78–79). Van der Spek (1993: 101) thinks the donation of Laodice is in question. (Clancier 2012a: 323 n.90 detects another reference in 147, where Del Monte (1997: 104) discerns the cult of Antiochus, Laodice and perhaps others.) 58 is apparently the only surviving reference to the assembly until 88, nearly six decades later. But the šatammu is scarcely more visible before then (only 53?, 72); perhaps the combination of šatammu, databara and kiništu is not as odd as it looks from a late Seleucid and Parthian perspective. 66 If lúAGRIG is correctly so read (van der Spek 1998, 254). The term recurs without context in 3. 67 On this episode cf. Clancier (2012a: 316–318), Clancier (2014: 373–374), Clancier and Monerie (2014: 212–220). Substitutes for the šatammu also appear in 124 (where, oddly, the šatammu himself also seems to be present), 125 and 305. The counsellors are an uncertain element: cf. n.17. 68 88 provides another partial case, the pāḫātu being involved in the unusual ceremonies for Antiochus iii in 188/187 bce. pāḫātu perhaps stands for epistatês: Sherwin-White (1983: 268); Boiy (2004: 205); Clancier (2012a: 321). In Hellenistic/Parthian times the term only appears outside the Diaries in CT 49.156. Meanwhile rab sikkati perhaps signifies phrourarch (Clancier 2012b). 69 What Theron was doing in 43 is now impossible to say, but it is something non-formulaic. In 34 we hear about two satrapal actions: “Month xii, the 24th day, the satrap of Babylonia brought out much silver, cloth, goods and utensils? from Babylon and Seleucia, the royal city, and 20 elephants, which the satrap of Bactria had sent to the king, to Transpotamia before the king”. It should be noted, incidentally, that satraps are absent from the record for over a century between 60 and 124.

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equally unattested rab kiṣir (20), gerseqû (254) and two rab kumars (n.27), one of the royal treasury, one of temples. Šatammus, by contrast, are well-attested and well-understood, but it is unusual for one to be reported making a trip to see the king in Media (299). The labelling of officials is from one perspective a matter of presentation, and there are things to be said about this too. Sometimes the labels are initially or wholly opaque. The Achaemenid-era Diaries offer two examples. In 12 Tattannu is called lúgal um-mu, a term that Sachs and Hunger translated, rather neu­trally, as “chief”. It now seems reasonably clear that it is a military title, perhaps literally “master-of-the-quiver” (Stolper 2001: 106–107), but unfortunately the text breaks off before we learn what Tattannu did. In 15 an unnamed individual is called lúNUN lúmu-lu-u’, which seems to be quite without parallel. Sachs and Hunger leave lúmu-lu-u’ untranslated, but render NUN (rubû) as “the ruler”. In a world of kings (indeed the king of kings) that has regal overtones, but neither the presence elsewhere in the entry of a royal message (šipištu) nor the phrase “at the command of” really justify this — indeed, the configuration of the entry rather inclines one to distinguish between king and lúNUN lúmu-lu-u’, who may nonetheless be some very high-ranking dignitary for whom the diarist had no ready-made translation.70 Recurrent and familiar titles are not always written the same way. The “general above the four generals”71 twice (70, 196) appears with a version of his title including the word bītu (house),72 twice as “general above the four generals of Babylonia” (146, 172) and once (99) as “the commander of the troops of Babylonia (lúGAL ERÍN-KUR-URIki meš) who was against? (šá ana UGU) the 4 presidents (lúGAL-UKKINmeš)”.73 There is some archaising geographical terminology (Gutium, Subartu, Hanigalbat,74 Hanaeans, Meluhha, lúERINmeš manda)75 and what I suppose to be quasi-­archaising use of the vague label ēdû (SIG), “famous/important”, either by itself or in conjunction with rubû (NUN). (It also recalls omen-text usage.)76 The inexactness 70 That mūlû means “height” or “high place” and mūlûtu appears occasionally in NB royal inscriptions meaning “lordship” makes the situation especially tantalising. 71 See Del Monte (1997: 53–57), Mitsuma (2002), Mitsuma (2007). 72 See Mitsuma (2007), contra Del Monte (1997: 53). 73 Sachs and Hunger’s “presidents” are understood by Del Monte (1997: 54) and Mitsuma (2002) as satraps or governors. 74 Glossed as Armenia in 113. 75 But the apparently Greek-derived Kupru for Cyprus in place of traditional Akkadian terminology for the island goes in a different direction, as does the appearance of an Akkadian equivalent for “Mesopotamia” in 12. 76 SIG: 5 (of a city), 34 (with NUN), 146, 160, 276 (of people). lúNUN SIG is also found in bchp 11 obv. 2 (presumed to refer to Xanthippus) and bchp 15 obv. 2, 8, 14 (satrap and/or general). Omen-text usage: cad s.v. a2’, c1’.

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of this in 34, where the individual in question is co-­guardian of Sardis with the queen during the king’s absence in Transeuphratene, seems particularly surprising. The effect is compounded by use of a term of ­disputed meaning (UDmeš-šú) to describe another group involved in the process: some think they are philoi, others deny this, and the non-Assyriologist hesitates to intervene.77 Still, they are a plural group, whereas the rubû ēdû is an ­individual  — and perhaps (if we have a list in reverse order of importance) the most important one. It might help, of course, if he had been named. But like other “famous” individuals he is anonymous, and this draws attention to a larger issue about ­naming and anonymity. Kings are named (not simply referred to as “the king”) in only about half of the passages (under 80 in number) where use of the name seems a fair possibility, i.e excluding e.g. titles of royal officials, labels for royal locations (palace, camp) and the phrase “by order of the king”. (In one notable case, 135, two kings are named, Alexander and Demetrius, as the diarist avoids prejudging the outcome of their struggle for power.) The tendency to name is slightly higher in preParthian documents (54%) than Parthian ones (45%), but there are variations depending on context. Seleucid monarchs are much more likely to be named in references to sacrifices for the life of the king (at least where texts are well enough preserved to tell) and slightly more likely to be named in various other contexts (around 40 texts) in which a specific royal action or experience is involved; on the other hand, the names of Parthian monarchs appear over twice as frequently in some 30 further cases where kings are mentioned but the context remains unclear because of brevity or fragmentary preservation. It should be kept in mind, however, that Parthian royal names are a special category, since the diarists refer to all the kings as “Arsaces” and only occasionally (278, 296) note that they actually had distinct personal names.78 So even when a name is used it is as though we are reading about “the Arsacid king” rather than a personalised individual. Of course, this is not a unilateral decision of the diarists: they were simply adopting a Parthian perspective also reflected in the superscriptions of Parthian coinage. Still, that they did adopt that perspective rather than individuating their new rulers is a decision worth a­ cknowledging (their predecessors often gave the personal as well as ­throne-names of Achaemenid 77 78

Renger (1985); Hunger in Sachs and Hunger (1988: 346), possibly an error for “troops”. This also applies to dating of tablets, not just texts of historical entries. And that goes for the occasional exceptions too, since we find “[Year 2]21 Arsaces who was named? Gutarza” in adart iii No. -90 lo.e. 1 as well as “King Arsaces, whose name is Gutarza” in a narrative in 278, and “Arsaces who is called…” in a date formula in adart iii No. -79R12, the same tablet that produces 296. (Gutarza’s name is also given in the colophon to a Goal Year text: Sachs and Hunger 2006: no.82.)

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kings, at least in dating-formulae), even if it may have been taken with little thought and primarily in a spirit of passive indifference. Meanwhile, only 49 distinct entries (16% of the dataset) provide the personal names of non-royal individuals.79 Just 38 different individuals are involved, nearly a quarter of whom are mentioned more than once. Some have other labels (a title, a geographical attribution, a patronymic), some do not — and the same individual can be treated differently in different entries. Seven persons appear entirely unlabelled (once each): presumably the diarist knew who they were and assumed any reader would too.80 (Only one, Marduk-ēṭir in 80, has a Babylonian name.) It is at first sight particularly remarkable that only two šatammus are named (118, 158) — but perhaps this is the least remarkable case since the šatammu is the closest to the people writing the texts: that is, the reason one initially thinks it odd is the reason that makes it not so. By the same token many other cases of anonymity might reflect the degree to which the diarist sees secular officials as part of his environment and/but principally relevant by virtue of status. The question is whether the breaches of anonymity (including those where no title or label is provided, though the ­individuals must overwhelmingly be officials — and are sometimes known to be so) are sufficiently frequent to problematise that view: they are certainly proportionately more frequent than for the šatammus. Pirngruber thinks anonymity reflects a divinatory environment — i.e. it is a trope that arises because the diarists are consciously or unconsciously collecting potential ominous events. Perhaps that is so. For a classicist it also recalls Cato’s Origines, where the point was resistance to the aggressively look-at-me environment of the Roman aristocracy: for Cato it mattered that the consul did something as agent of the Roman state, not who the consul was. Possibly diarists felt something similar, if not entirely consistently: perhaps naming the rubû ēdû in 34 would have made him seem too important in relation to the King. (No other official in the narrative is named, including two satraps.) One can see that naming Aspasine’s widow but not his infant son might reflect political reality (201), that failure to name those executed for theft of temple property or the Subartian substitute rab kumar in 240 is a sort of damnatio memoriae and that speaking of “the Elamite” or “the Elamite enemy” is a form of disdain.81 But did that apply to 79

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5, 12, 43, 118, 137, 138, 139, 146, 147, 148, 149, 150, 151, 152, 157, 158, 159, 160, 165, 168, 170, 172, 175, 183, 187, 188, 197, 198, 199, 201, 212, 226, 240, 242, 256, 264, 270, 271, 278, 279, 286, 287, 288, 291, 293, 299. In 131 an anonymous individual is rather startlingly said to be of the Egibi family, last prominent over three centuries earlier (Del Monte 1997: 90). 80 (Marduk-ēṭir), 137 (Ari’abu), 146 (Ti’ugi), 165 (Menupilus), 170 (Te’ude[sisu?…]), 187 (Indupane), 198 (Urri’a). 139, 149–151, 157, 172, 174, 176. There is a change of habit in 175, 198–199, 305. Meanwhile Aspasine (the “enemy from the environs of Mesene, a friend of the Elamite enemy”: 172)

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the sailor-prophet figure of 172–173 or the Greek complaining about poll-tax in 90? And how sensible is it to record the appointment of a zazakku but say of him only that he was the brother of the šatammu, even though that fact doubly guarantees that the scholarly community would have known his name?82 If one does not read the Diaries for prosopographic rigour, one also does not prima facie read them for literary character — except inasmuch as the general sense of neutral objectivity is seen as a conscious literary choice. Emotions are not absent, but fear and panic (pp. 93–94), lamentation and mourning (96), happiness and agreement (157) are unelaborated states of affairs external to the diarist. The allegations that the Subartian of 240 “placed worry, anxiety, wailing in the city”83 or that the Urukeans “planned evil” (153) — if the Urukeans are in fact the subject of the verb — are not really that different. The anger of Bagajaša in bchp 18AB is not readily paralleled in adart i–iii. In 216 Arsaces is not reported as expressing any emotion about the Gutians who killed his brother; he simply carries out “great killing” (not a specially colourful phrase) among them. Meanwhile, when the diarist says that something was “like a garden” (146), it sticks out like a sore thumb. (What the something was is inevitably lost in a lacuna. Oddly it appears in the first Diary entry of the Parthian dispensation.84) Van der Spek has suggested that “King Demetrius marched around in the cities of Meluḫḫa victoriously” (138: 145 BCE) deliberately echoes “King Antiochus marched victoriously in the cities of Meluḫḫa” (109: 169 bce), the idea being that Demetrius is assimilated to the supposedly more successful Antiochus iv.85 (Roman historians conscious of the day of Eleusis do not see things thus, of course.) Four things strike me. First, the fact that “marching victoriously” is an established turn of phrase since Neo-Babylonian times (inter alia in the

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is regularly named. In 216 Arsaces does not name the person responsible for his brother Artabana’s death. Perhaps we have to allow the possibility that, despite the public impact of the individuals involved, the names of the sailor-prophet and the complaining Greek simply were not known to the diarist. More generally, Johannes Haubold has also suggested to me that the cuneiform culture of author-anonymity might to some degree have worked in favour of subject-anonymity. Meanwhile, writing of bchp 11, Clancier (2012b: 16) offers a quite different kind of explanation of anonymity: Xanthippos (the presumed “renowned prince”) had a name hard to write in cuneiform — and there was no point in devising a method for a name the diarist (hoped that he) would have no long-term reason to use. For anxiety and wailing cf. n.9. It is also the only (surviving) appearance of “garden” except in reference to particular locations (Cypress Garden, Juniper Garden, royal garden). In both cases “cities of Meluḫḫa” should perhaps be “land of Meluḫḫa”, with Meluḫḫa understood as designating Egypt plus Levantine Ptolemaic possessions (van der Spek (2015)). See also n.39.

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context of omens)86 does not tell against there being an intended link: it need not be regarded as an empty and insignificant cliché; if anything, the reverse is the case. Second, the echo in 145 bce lacks a parallel to the celebratory events reported in 169 bce. Third, the brief reference to Demetrius’ victorious marching is lodged between more lengthy reports of comparative banalities (building work and the taking of a census). Fourth, the next month’s entry (in the same exemplar) in 145 bce reports that “Kamnaškiri, king of Elam, marched around victoriously among the cities and rivers of Babylonia”,87 adding that his troops took plunder and that fear and panic were induced in the land. Is the diarist having a joke (if that is the word) at King Demetrius’ expense — setting him up as a quasi-Antiochus in one month (albeit somewhat perfunctorily) and undermining his claim the next, by showing that he cannot protect Babylonia and providing a fuller, but formulaically linked, account of Kamnaškiri’s success?88 If so, perhaps that counts as a literary effect. It certainly makes one think one should investigate the interplay of successive entries (and even successive parts of the same entry89) more systematically.90 But the chances of finding much may be limited because, although about 30% of historical entries are preserved alongside an entry for an adjacent month in the same Diary exemplar, there are only twenty years (15% of the total) for which historical entries are preserved for four or more months and it is comparatively rare for entries from the same exemplar to survive for (near-)adjacent months that are sufficiently substantial and well-preserved to allow one to detect or deny the 86 87

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Cf. Haubold (this volume). Or (cf. n.39) “land and rivers of Babylonia”. The reading of URUmeš as “land” (not “cities”) urged by van der Spek (2015) is (as he notes: 114) perhaps most problematic here and in the “cities” and rivers of Sealand in 157: cities and rivers look like the distinct components of a land(scape). But, if rivers (canals) are a distinctive enough feature to be mentioned separately at all (and in military contexts they are a significant issue), it is perhaps not impossible to speak of “land and rivers” to capture the idea of a river-rich land. Ardāya, the general in Babylonia, arguably does not come out of it well either: a census (138) and sacrifices (139) are all very well, but perhaps he should have been paying more heed to Elam, already a cause of worry in 137. (But perhaps the census was meant to improve troop mobilisation and the sacrifice to secure divine favour in war.) That the Esagila authorities continued work on the rubble and the citizens worked on the gypsum (138) is perhaps less reprehensible. The bald juxtaposition in 305 of a report that the šatammu-representative and Babylonians provide animals for an offering (a commonplace event) and a report that the politai were fighting one another around the temple of Nabû-ša-ḫarê might seem to make a comment about different sorts of Babylonian citizen. In 149 the general above the four generals is (unusually) described as “representing the king” (sc. Arsaces). Is this meant to underline the treachery of his siding with the Elamites reported in the next entry (150)? Cf. Haubold (this volume).

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presence of subtle literary effects. Inspection of actually adjacent months reveals a sense of a continuing story in most cases, but it is hard to feel sure that this is not essentially driven by events or that, when there is a change of topic from one month to another, this is because the diarist has made a historiographically significant choice. (The fact that we rarely have independent sources of fine-grained information is, of course, an impediment.) Diarists certainly made choices about how to frame their reports, as is underlined by the existence of non-identical accounts of the same month in different Diary exemplars. The topics covered can differ and precise verbal expression generally does.91 But, once again, the infrequency with which parallel entries are equally well preserved and the impossibility of putting variations in a wider authorial context inhibit interpretation. One verbal trope that does stand out is that of introducing an item with “I heard”. I count 47 examples and a further four variants where the phrasing is “it was heard in Babylon” (49, 59), “rumour came to King Seleucus (in Seleucia)”, “rumour came to Babylon” (both in 96) and “the news was in the mouth of the people big and small” (171).92 (I do not count the reference to rumour prompting a military officer to take action in 158. But the phrase “as they say” in 150 is perhaps a related trope.) Of these 51 items — occurring in 45 distinct entries (15% of the dataset) — 36 (71%) are Parthian, 14 (27%) are Seleucid and just one (2%) is pre-Seleucid — a heavily disproportionate Parthian preponderance (two and a half as many items in one and a quarter as many entries). The death of Laodice gets two rumour-reports (in Seleucia and Babylon) in a single entry (96); “I heard” occasionally occurs more than once within a single entry, sometimes, but perhaps not always, of unrelated events from different storylines.93 “I heard” events have quite a strong tendency to be military, but there are exceptions, e.g. a somewhat opaque incident in Borsippa involving cooks, a brazier and (presumably non-military) fighting in 244. 91

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69 reports fighting and refers to the palace, whereas 70 mentions rituals and eršaḫungatablet recitation, the general above the four generals and the Euphrates. 173 starts with the sailor, so omits the military-political material in the opening part of 172, and its sailor narrative is not identical to and apparently shorter than that in 172. 245 omits the repair work noted in 244, while 244 omits the fall of fire in 245; the story of the cook starting on the 12th of the month is longer in 244. 90 and 91 share “silver of the heads” and “I heard as follows: the commander…”; 224 and 226 share “heavy possessions” and “withdrew backwards”. But even in these cases the entries as a whole do not seem identical (and 222 looks different again) and this degree of (preserved) verbal overlap is not common. The phrase “people big and small” recurs in bchp 18A/B B8; and “big and small inside this city” in 151 might be similar. “Big and small” in adart iii No. -107D obv. 30–31 is also salient. 131, 149, 150, 153, 172, twice in all cases except 149 (three times).

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What distinguishes the four variant cases is that something has been heard by lots of people (this is explicit in 171, where the phrasing entails the passing on of news): widespread hearing becomes an event in its own right. It will presumably have been true of very many things registered under “I heard” that they were also heard by many other people, so the diarist has deliberately chosen to record these differently. Since three relate to royal deaths, one presumes the distinctive format is a tribute to the event’s importance. Can that be true of the fourth, the news that “the goddess Nanāya has entered Borsippa and Ezida”?94 And was it not true of e.g. Antiochus iv’s Egyptian activities or Alexander Balas’ defeat of Demetrius (which only get “I heard”)? Royal deaths engender mourning and lamentation or fear and the stress in 171 on news being generally “in the mouth” is virtually a comment on people’s reaction to the event. But for the most part “I heard” reports do not include comment on the impact of the event: that is, the trope is not apparently a sign of a consciously different sort of engagement with the event on the diarist’s part. And, in fact, the strongest defining feature is geographic. For there is a very high, perhaps universal, association with events outside Babylon, though not necessarily outside Babylonia — Borsippa can be far enough (at least in Parthian era items). 32 (63%) reports definitely obey this rule, thirteen are too damaged to permit comment, four are quite ambiguous and the remaining two (131, 229) can probably be interpreted as located outside Babylon. At the same time, events outside (and often far outside) Babylonia are not necessarily marked with “I heard”: there are at least ten counter-examples, including reports about Gaugamela in 331 bce (17), events in Transeuphratene in 274, 271 and 250 bce (34, 35, 51), Egypt in 145 bce (138), Elam and Sealand in 138 bce (153, 157), Mesene in 124 bce (201) and Eastern Iran in 119 bce (216). John Dillery has recently affirmed that it is inherently unlikely that most of what the diarists produced was hearsay and that the “I heard” trope should not be taken at face value as an indication to the contrary.95 But anything that did not occur in the temple (or at least in Babylon) must be the result of some sort of hearsay, even if it is just hearing the reading of a written message, which (admittedly) is a category of heard information that is kept formally separate because the context of hearing was an event in its own right.96 The “I heard” 94 95 96

It was the prelude to the activities of the sailor-prophet, so perhaps the answer is yes. Dillery (2015: 249 n.126). The distinction is particularly clear in e.g. 146 where report of a message and “I heard” come in successive entries relating to the same day. Note also unofficial and official news in 211–212 (see below p. 105). On the other hand the thing heard can be the arrival of a messenger (131). Things seen might be largely confined to what was visible (celestially or

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formula marks a special subset of out-of-Babylon events, and, if there is a problem about it, it is not that it misleads us about the diarists’ sources but that it is difficult to decide why some out-of-Babylon events are marked that way and some are not. That is another question that might deserve further analysis. A further (formally distinct fact) that such analysis might address is that (where we can tell) many more occurrences of “I heard” are immediately preceded by the simple phrase “that month” than by a precise calendar date or by neither.97 In other words, when diarists refer explicitly to having heard of an interesting event they characteristically do not claim to have done so on a particular day. Another thing worth noticing is that the same event in the first month of 106/105 bce is preceded by “I heard” in one version (244) but not in another (245): we should perhaps be wary of over-interpreting the phrase, even though it can also recur in different versions of a single month (90–91). Finally, the configuration of individual entries deserves comment and is sometimes unusual. Events are generally assigned to a month or a day, but occasionally (and not only in month xii) to “that year”.98 A month-entry is characteristically articulated into discrete items by use of the phrase “that month” and/or the naming of a specific day. The interplay of these markers involves choices on the part of the diarist (particularly how often to repeat “that month”) and might theoretically be susceptible of analysis or even literary evaluation: in a narrative genre in which any particular event is often described quite briefly and colourlessly, the skeleton of allusions to time does bulk quite large as a stylistic feature. But the raw data are quite complex and the number of fully or near-fully preserved lengthy entries is perhaps insufficient

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terrestrially) from Esagila, since watching from that vantage point was the core activity (cf. Stevens (this volume)). But, for example, a fall-of-fire in Marad (66) was presumably not in this category. A calendar date is provided only in six cases (15% of the salient dataset). Of these exceptional cases 59 and 96 are variant forms (“it was heard…”, “a rumour was heard…”) and relate to the death of a royal personage, 146 concerned Ti’ugi (Theogenes?) and King Arsaces (we are just after the Parthian take-over), the content in 184 and 272 is entirely lost (the former perhaps referred to an Arsaces), and 189 is about a military operation perhaps in Mesene (Del Monte 1997: 137). 34 (xii) is an unusual narrative (see pp. 104–105) involving two adjacent years, and the king’s encampment in Transpotamia in 35 (xii) was a prolonged event. Three cases — 35 (xii: there were many birds), 206 (i: samānu seized the barley) and 240 (xii: rains and floods were cut off) — refer to non-instantaneous natural phenomena. In 43 (xii 2) “that year, silver, gold, garments and linen […] […] was placed in the royal palace in Babylon for protection against the enemy” follows a damaged statement about something happening from month x to the end of the year: we have an on-going military/political situation; and the same is true in 150 (x), as restored in van der Spek (1997/1998: 172).

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to provide an adequate basis for refined judgement.99 Within a month events dated to a specific day are not always recorded in strict calendar order.100 In principle that could happen because the diarist opted to created distinct narrative chains within the entry, but in practice it is not always obvious that this is the explanation: narrative brevity and fragmentary preservation (again) pose problems. The events recorded (which are only seldom assigned to a particular part of a day — normally because it is a matter of theft taking place at night101) tend to be firmly in the here-and-now of the relevant month. 189 refers to damage to some fields in the previous year. A handful of entries refer explicitly to earlier months in the same year, although lacunae often make these opaque:102 two are part of read-out messages about events stretching back some time; others simply note an earlier event relevant to a current report (e.g. 187: Timarchus “who previously from the side of King Arsaces was appointed guard commander and who in month iv had escaped from Aspasine etc”.). Sometimes that earlier event is referred to entirely vaguely (e.g. 206, “were erected [at the] outer gate which is above the gate of Ištar which before fire had destroyed”, or the reference to an earlier troop deployment by King Demetrius in 153, and several other more opaque cases103). There are also 32 cases, all but three Parthian, where events are reported “as before”:104 they include Arab attacks, disease, binding and opening of paths, fire in the royal palace, building work at Esagila or canal-digging, and journeys by kings or generals. With Arab attacks it is easy to feel the diarist is uttering a tacit complaint,105 but this is less obvious in other cases. But all of these departures from the here-and-now pale into insignificance compared with 34, where the report for month xii of SE 38 is followed by a section about the return to Seleucia in month xii of SE 99 100 101 102 103 104 105

The number and combinations of markers produce some 40 variants just among entries that include the phrase “that month” at least once. There are also, of course, entries which (at least as preserved) only refer to specific days. 88, 158, 165, 177, 179, 187, 189. The apparent case in 199 has a special explanation: the message read on 2.X reports an event on what must be 15.ix; we then get an event on 7.X and subsequent dates are in order. Night-time theft: 70, 102, 157, 170, 249. Night-time fall of fire: 102. “The night of the 27th (it was) as before” (187) is opaque; and in 41 the event is entirely lost. Afternoon appears in 88 (Antiochus iii leaves Babylon). 175, 196 (in messages); 43, 82, 90, 112, 187(bis), 293, 308. 58, 88, 92, 118, 189, 237. 129, 138, 140, 189, 190, 193, 194, 195, 198, 199, 205, 216, 225, 235, 238, 240(bis), 246, 250, 253, 259, 267(bis), 272, 282, 286, 290, 293, 300, 301, 302, 306. Particularly in 199 where an Arab attack “as before” ends a lengthy entry containing the two reports of victory over Pittit (see p. 105).

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37 of the ­satrap and royal paqdus,106 who had gone to Sardis in SE 36, and the satrap then apparently makes an announcement about fields given for the sustenance of Babylon, Borsippa and Cutha in SE 32. After this the text continues with material about building work at Esagila, famine, sale of children, ekketu-disease and the use of copper coins. One cannot escape the feeling that a month-entry for xii SE 37 has been appended to the month entry for xii SE 38. Why this should be so is mysterious, though van der Spek 1993 offers a couple of possible explanations (providing context for present distress? commenting on a decline in royal beneficence?), which amount to attributing a degree of historiographical manipulation to the diarist. Perhaps that is the right sort of approach. Or is it completely impossible that it is simply an error in the compilation of pre-existing material into the current text? At any event, the result is exceptional. Also exceptional is 199.107 Here we have the same event — Arsaces’ battlefield capture of the Elamite king Pittit — reported twice, first in a message from Aspasine and then in one from Arsaces. This is not like the duplication produced by two exemplars of a month-entry (n.12) nor is it quite like 211–212 where (it seems) unofficial knowledge of a new appointment in 211 is followed by an official message in 212 (separate entries in successive months).108 Rather, the diarist in effect cites two (authoritative) sources for a very significant victory — or, put another way, records two events of public reportage. For at one level this is simply an unusual example of the topos in which an official

106 The term paqdu recurs just once in the Diaries (43) where, as here, those involved are mentioned alongside the satrap. For (infrequent) other Hellenistic/Parthian attestations cf. Boiy (2004: 141,143,195–6,209–11). Other secular officials encountered occasionally in the Diaries are the šandabakku (308), the man in charge of accounting (ša ana muḫḫi DÙ-uš: 280) and the overseer of the herds (lúGAL MÁŠ.ANŠE: 163). Although the bīt šarri appears twice (34, 118), the lúNAM bīt šarri (dioiketês?) encountered in bm 68610 (cf. van der Spek (1995: 238–241 [text 9]), Clancier (2012a: 318)) does not. (But this official disappears in the editions of bm 68610 in Jursa (2006: 148 n.32) and Joannès (2006: 113–114), to be replaced by the “governor of Bīt-šar-Bābili”. This view is endorsed by van der Spek in a prefatory note to the posting of van der Spek (1995) at www.academia.edu/1580318/ Land_Ownership_in_Babylonian_Cuneiform_Documents.) 107 See also Haubold (this volume). 108 A similar thing occurs within a single entry in 172 (month vii of 133/132 bce). The diarist hears that Philinus has been sacked as general and then a document arrives from Arsaces reporting that Theodosius has been made general. These facts are reported without comment. Their relationship to Aspasine’s plundering of a harbour on the Tigris in the same month is left for us to imagine. (Philinus had gone to Media six months earlier, so he was not directly responsible for this particular disaster. Theodosius was already mentioned in month v, so there is perhaps some back-story.)

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message arrives in Babylon. There are 40 such messages in the corpus (80% in ­Parthian era texts), and the two in 199 are odd in various respects. Since 21 of the 23 messages whose originator is known are from an Achaemenid, Seleucid or Parthian king or (much more rarely) a satrap or general, and 14 of the 15 identified recipients are the Babylonians or Babylonian citizens (sometimes with, respectively, the šatammu or the pāhātu109), the first message in 199 is remarkable in being from King Aspasine to the general of Babylonia, even though the latter does then transmit it to the “[cit]izens who are in Babylon”. In these terms Arsaces’ message to the pāhātu and the Babylonian citizens is quite normal. But the mechanism of its arrival is somewhat wordier than usual (“a messenger of the king who carried a message entered Babylon. That day, the message of the king which was written to the pāhātu of Babylon and the citizens [politai] who were in Babylon was read in the “house of observation” [i.e. the theatre] as follows”), and the mechanics of transmission of the first message are also more visible by virtue of the description of its routing from Aspasine via the general. This perhaps, so to speak, stages the importance of the messages and the importance of the event they report — even though neither of them provides a particularly detailed account of that event. (The focus remains on Babylon’s receipt of the news.) That the content is a military narrative is not unparalleled, but — perhaps surprisingly — only three of the other 20 messages whose content is reasonably discernible actually fall into this category. Oddly, two of those three (175, 278) begin with the phrase “according to so-and-so”, whereas the third (like Arsaces’ message in 199) is a firstperson narrative (216) — Arsaces’ account of the defeat of “Gutians” who had killed his brother Artabanus. It is as though the authoritative sourcing of military narrative is important. (In the many messages that affirm an appointment or issue orders, that question does not, of course, arise. A small residue are too damaged to assess.) Meanwhile, the ego-reports of Arsaces in 199 and 216 recall a message mentioning the death of “my father Arsaces” (271), another quoted statement of Arsaces in 153 (not explicitly part of a written message)110 and the quoted statements of the sailor-prophet and his adversaries in the long 109 The former (šatammu and Babylonians), which occurs only once (267), represents a different community from the latter (pāhātu and Babylonian citizens). See Clancier (2012a); Potts (2011). The venue is often the theatre (Potts (2011: 247) lists cases), but once the bīt milki (“house of deliberation”) in the Juniper Garden (267), once, at the start of the Parthian era, the streets (147), and once somewhat vaguely “in this place” (192). 110 See Del Monte (1997: 110–111); van der Spek (2015: 113). He speaks of “plenty, happiness and good peace” in the cities of Media, apparently promising these to the captive Demetrius ii. Happiness (157) and unhappiness (263, 283) are categories evoked elsewhere in the Diaries, but Arsaces’ phrase as a whole is distinctive.

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narrative in 172 — in total a fairly modest amount of deviation from the norm of sober third-person reportage.111 3

Diaries and Chronicles

The idea of “literary” character evokes Waerzeggers’s reference to such issues in her discussion of the Nabonidus Chronicle, and draws our attention to the relationship between the Diaries and Chronicles. Waerzeggers (2012: 298) reckons it highly likely that Hellenistic Chronicles depended on the Diaries and Pirngruber not only notes a general congruence of content but, as we saw, speculates that the Diaries became richer in historical data as the habit of creating Chronicles became weaker. Such ideas prompt one to ask how often surviving examples actually deal with the same events. How much overlap is there? Thirteen items from the relevant dataset (ABC 9; bchp 1–15, 19–20) offer no specific tie-up. Seven are more promising, though in the case of bchp 20 (Euphrates Chronicle) this is because an undated Chronicle has been anchored in time by reference (precisely) to certain Diary entries and in that of bchp 3 (the Diadochi Chronicle) the only direct link is in the food-price data for 310 bce. Among the other five items the most substantial links occur in bchp 14 and bchp 17. bchp 17 (Judicial Chronicle) reports three incidents of temple theft and associated court proceedings in 278 and 222 bce, and the first entry corresponds to adart i No. -277C obv. 3, where two or three words survive (but not in a historical entry) from a similar account of theft in month viii of SE 34. (A similar incident in month ix recorded in my 32 is not reproduced. More generally, the rationale for the selection of items is not apparent.) The Greek ­Community Chronicle (bchp 14) and 117 both relate to internal strife in Babylon in 163 bce, in which politai were pitted against the šaknu of the king and the people of Babylon.112 Here the correspondence is a little less s­ traightforward. 111 The citation of Arsaces’ letter in 216 is followed at the end of the entry (after a reference to Arab troubles) by a third person note that “that month, king Arsaces [went] to the remote cities of the Gutian country in order to fight”. Is that information from the same letter about a further (more distant) campaign? Or is it conceivably a reference to the same context as Arsaces’ letter – a duplicate note wrongly included in the entry? (Van der Spek 2015: 114 restores both references to Gutium as alluding to “the remote land of Gutium”, which diminishes the case for two different locations being involved.) 112 The Diaries provide a substantial number of references to the politai (puliṭē) — members of a distinct Greek citizenry in Babylon visible from the reign of Antiochus iv (adart iii No. -168A obv. 15), who is generally seen as its creator (van der Spek 2005), though Boiy

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As understood by van der Spek and Finkel,113 the Chronicle relates to month vii, the Diary to month v, so the overlap is not perfect; but (again in the view of van der Spek and Finkel) the Chronicle reports the return to Babylon in month vii of politai who had left in month v, so it is quite close. Moreover, both texts refer to actual fighting. The Diary reports that the šaknu (? and the people) plundered politai in the countryside and were a cause of fear to the pāhātu and rab sikkati (in Babylon), while the Chronicle speaks of the politai fighting a battle with the šaknu and people of the land.114 Not everything is clear: the Chronicle appears to say that the politai who returned in month vii had gone out of the city because of the battle with the šaknu — which prima facie means the battle recorded immediately before, an event that (again prima facie) occurred no more than seven days earlier. In that case, of course, the departure is not the one recorded in month v in the Diary. Perhaps there was more than one departure. But that is a disturbing conclusion, because the view that the Chronicle relates to month vii (rather than month iv) is predicated on the assumption that there was only one departure. It is not my task to solve such problems; rather I stress that at best only one of the seven “more promising” cases (the Judicial Chronicle) might actually illustrate the transmogrification of a Diary record into a Chronicle entry. Mostly what we are dealing with are parallel but independent historical narratives. One recalls that even distinct Diary exemplars dealing with the same month do not provide identical narratives. Generically there is undoubtedly congruence between Chronicle and Diary material. Some continuous chunks of bchp 12, 18C and 19 (on the appointment of officials or the provision of material at Esagila for sacrifices for the life of the king and other notables) are quite reminiscent of the Diaries — though nothing there entirely matches the formulation and details in bchp 12. More generally, like the Astronomical Diaries, the Chronicles have plenty of military, royal and religious content; report the arrival of parchment letters; talk about temple workshops, building works, theft of temple-property and offerings “in the Greek fashion”; occasionally mention taxation (bchp 5 rev. 10; 90, 91); record animal stories and lightning strikes; only intermittently refer to named places in Babylonia (outside Babylon and Seleucia) or talk about religious (2004: 207) thinks they are presupposed by a reference to the pāhātu in 88 and go back to Antiochus iii; see Mitsuma (this volume), who also discusses a new fragment mentioning peliganes (cf. bchp 18AB). Other aspects of the Greek political/administrative system such as the boulê (bchp 14, perhaps) only occur in Chronicles. 113 http://www.livius.org/cg-cm/chronicles/bchp-greeks/greeks_03.html (last accessed 6.1.17). 114 Van der Spek (2005: 402–403) identifies the šaknu as Philip, regent of Antiochus v. Boiy (2004: 164) suggests that he is the usurper Timarchus.

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e­ nvironments outside Esagila; use the vague rubû ēdû (lúNUN SIG) in place of more precise designations and can label a city as “famous/important”; speak of “mourning and lamentation” in the land; and rarely wander from an apparently objective form of reportage, as in the reference in the Ptolemy iii Chronicle to Hanaean troops who do not fear god (bchp 11 obv. 6). That Chronicle deals with a foreign incursion into Babylonia, a phenomenon not unknown in the Diaries (Elamites and Arabs, rather than Egyptians, being the culprits), and Chronicles, like the Diaries, allude more widely to foreign places/peoples and report events that have occurred outside Babylonia. There are also similarities in phraseology. People are “killed with weapons”,115 an event can be recorded in such-and-such a month “on an unknown day”,116 and the “I heard” formula occurs a couple of times — which last feature at least indicates that the same sort of people wrote both types of text, but is also arguably a giveaway that Diarystyle material was sometimes compiled into Chronicles with inadequate care to eliminate tropes more appropriate to the source text.117 It is interesting that the two examples both relate to the end or start of a king’s reign — so the error (if that be an appropriate word) hints that “I heard” was felt to be a marker of an event’s importance, not just its comparative remoteness. But there are, of course, limits to congruence. The Diaries have no “Greeks who anoint with oil like the politai” (bchp 14 obv. 4) and no clear references to the service estate (bīt ilki) we encounter in bchp 8.118 And, despite the many formal comings and goings in the Diaries, people are never said to come out to meet an arriving dignitary as with the arrival of “Lysias” in Seleucia in bchp 12.119 Contrariwise, I have not spotted locusts, outbreaks of disease, abnormal births, bad weather or famine in the Chronicles. Perhaps this is accidental. Or perhaps it is itself congruent with one’s impression that the core categories (military, royal and religious) are more dominantly present in Chronicles than in the Astronomical Diaries: they are each represented in 78–80% of the relevant Chronicles, whereas each only appears in about a third of historical entries in Diaries. This is not quite comparing like with like. But I am not sure 115 But not with the “iron weapons” deployed by troops in iron panoply in which the Ptolemy iii Chronicle (bchp 11) is so interested (cf. Clancier 2012b: 21). 116 bchp 5 rev. 19; 157. 117 If Mitsuma (2015a: 63) rightly suggests that bchp 15 is not a (single month) Chronicle but a draft historical entry for the Astronomical Diaries, the observation would not apply in that case. But it is certainly applicable to bchp 10. 118 Though there is a heavy work obligation (ilku dannu) in 267. 119 “Lysias” (identification of the Greek name is uncertain) is either an otherwise unrecorded brother of Seleucus iii or the pre-regnal name of Antiochus iii. Other parallels for such adventus ceremonies come from Greek sources (Sherwin-White 1983: 267).

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that dissimilarity is sufficiently great to render the statistical difference insignificant. More thorough analysis might refine the observation. Still, if true Diary-keeping postdates the start of the Chronicle tradition,120 that is in entire conformity with the impression created by the actual Diaries and Chronicles that we are dealing with distinct, albeit comparable, enterprises; and it is in principle just as plausible that putting historical notes in the Diaries is a secondary development from Chronicle-writing as that it was other way round or that both started together.121 I end with another Chronicle issue — linked to a discourse on the role of Borsippa, the Babylonian location mentioned most often in the Diaries after Babylon and Seleucia. The starting point is Waerzeggers’s proposition that Chronicles came from both Babylon and Borsippa. Borsippa produced ABC 2–6 (Nabopolassar– Neriglissar) and ABC 14–16 (Esarhaddon; Assur-nādin-šumi–Šamaš-šum-ukīn; Akītu-Chronicle [689–626]). Babylon produced ABC 1 (perhaps), the Achaemenid and Hellenistic items from ABC 9 (Sidon Chronicle) onwards, and three free-standing items, the Market-Price Chronicle, the Religious Chronicle and (most interestingly to an Achaemenid historian) the Nabonidus Chronicle. In 2012 Waerzeggers characterised the Nabonidus Chronicle as a Borsippastyle Chronicle with a more Babylonian world-view. In 2016 she labelled it a literary product of the Hellenistic era (Waerzeggers 2016: 118). Van der Spek (2016: 451–460) has criticised this claim, but I have some sympathy, as my reaction to Waerzeggers’s 2012 piece was already to wonder whether it was a literary text calqued on the Chronicle model, rather as the Judicial Chronicle (bchp 17) is a judicial record (about punishment of temple theft) calqued on a political Chronicle. Berossus is normally seen as part of a Babylonian environment. But Berossus does not simply reproduce a putative Babylonian Chronicle tradition. That is clear in his treatment of the accession of Nebuchadnezzar, where scholars discern adjustments to relate the events to those involving Antiochus i (Dillery 2013: 81–82, Dillery 2015: 280–281). He is also capable of unusual features in non-Chronicle contexts, e.g. the inclusion of Sippar in the Flood narrative: multiple versions of that narrative certainly existed (Dalley 2013), so perhaps he was just choosing one that we do not otherwise have attested. Another Berossan deviation from what the Babylonian texts that we have tell us concerns the defeat of Nabonidus. 120 So Steele (this volume). 121 Mitsuma’s observations about bchp 15 and ABC 9 (2015a: 63) amount to saying that these documents are not really Chronicles, so they do not affect the overall question of the relationship between Chronicles and Diaries.

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In the Nabonidus Chronicle the Persians (led by Gubaru) enter Babylon on 12 October, two days after the capture of Sippar and no more than 16 days after the Battle of Opis. “Afterwards”, we read next, “after Nabonidus retreated, he was captured in Babylon”. Cyrus’ arrival in Babylon comes 17 days after that of Gubaru. In Berossus Nabonidus is defeated in an unstated location and flees with a few followers to Borsippa. Cyrus captures Babylon and razes the outer wall. He then goes to Borsippa to besiege Nabonidus, but the latter surrenders (and is sent to Carmania). Amélie Kuhrt has suggested emending the first reference to Borsippa to read Sippar, but in any case Borsippa is the site of Nabonidus’ last stand and surrender.122 Waerzeggers characterises Borsippa Chronicles as “not much interested in local history” (2012, 296). But what we are dealing with here is not so much local history as a watershed in national history, and I do wonder whether Berossus reflects a Borsippan version which took the view that, if independent Babylonian history had to end, it might as well do so in Borsippa. If we are to entertain the idea that the Nabonidus Chronicle is a literary product of the late Achaemenid or early Seleucid era (and one with an agenda, albeit one now hard to assess given the loss of the last part of the text), it should be no surprise, after all, to discover that other versions of the Great Event were in circulation in the world of Babylonian scholars.

Appendix ACHAEMENID and EARLY HELLENISTIC 1. adart i No. -382 obv. 13 (ii) 2. adart i No. -382 obv. 21 (iii) 3. adart i No. -381A rev. 3 (v) 4. adart i No. -381B ii 6 (iii) 5. adart i No. -381C rev. 4’–5’ (xii 2) 6. adart i No. -375C rev. 2 (xii) 7. adart i No. -373B UE 1–4 (xii) 8. adart i No. -372A ii 3 (ii) 9. adart i No. -369 obv. 5 (i ⸣) 10. adart i No. -369 rev. 7–9 (xii) 11. adart i No. -368 rev. 8 (iii) 12. adart i No. -366 ii 2–10 (ii) 13. adart i No. -362 rev. 2–8 [arta 2006.002] (?) 14. adart i No. -346 obv. 14 (ix) 122 Kuhrt (2007: 82).

15. adart i No. -346 rev. 13–15 (xi) 16. adart i No. -346 rev. 33 (xii) 17. adart i No. -330 obv. 14–18 (vi) 18. adart i No. -330 rev. 3–14 (vii) 19. adart i No. -329B rev. 2 (xii) 20. adart i No. -328 rev. 23–27 (viii) 21. adart i No. -324A obv. 15 (i) 22. adart i No. -324B rev. 23 (v) 23. adart i No. -322B obv. 11 (ii) 24. adart i No. -322D obv. 22 (ix) 25. adart i No. -321 rev. 14 (v) SELEUCID 26. adart i No. -309 obv. 14 (v) 27. adart i No. -302/301 rev. 5–6 (viii)

112 28. adart i No. -302/301 rev. 15 (xi) 29. adart i No. -300 obv. 10 (vii) 30. adart i No. -300 obv. 25 (viii) 31. adart i No. -289 obv. 13–14 (ii) 32. adart i No. -277C 14’–15’ (ix) 33. adart i No. -273B obv. 11–12 (vii) 34. adart i No. -273B rev. 29–39 + UE 1–2 (xii) 35. adart i No. -270B rev. 12–19 (xii) 36. adart i No. -266A obv. 13 (ii) 37. adart i No. -266B obv. 4 (vii) 38. adart i No. -266B obv. 15 (viii) 39. adart i No. -264 obv. 10 (vi) 40. adart i No. -261A rev. 3 (v) 41. adart i No. -261C obv. 10–11 (vii) 42. adart i No. -261B obv. 1–3 (viii) 43. adart i No. -261C rev. 9–12 + UE 1–3 (xii 2) 44. adart ii No. -257B 5 (iv) 45. adart ii No. -256 obv. 20 (iii) 46. adart ii No. -256 rev. 17 (xi) 47. adart ii No. -255A rev. 14–15 (vi 2) 48. adart ii No. -254 obv. 12–13 + lower edge (ix) 49. adart ii No. -253 obv. A110, B16’ (vii) 50. adart ii No. -251 UE 3 (xii) 51. adart ii No. -249A rev. 6 (iv) 52. adart ii No. -249B rev. 3 (x) 53. adart ii No. -249B rev. 15 (xi) 54. adart ii No. -248 rev. 4 (vii) 55. adart ii No. -247 obv. B4 (vi) 56. adart ii No. -247 rev. B8–9 (xi) 57. adart ii No. -245A obv. 11–13 (i) 58. adart ii No. -245B obv. 3–5 (iii) 59. adart ii No. -245A rev. 5–6 (v) 60. adart ii No. -241 9–10 (ii) 61. adart ii No. -240 obv. 5–8 (viii) 62. adart ii No. -237 obv. 12–14 (iii) 63. adart ii No. -234 obv. 12–13 (vii) 64. adart ii No. -234 rev. 47 (xii 2) 65. adart ii No. -232 obv. 24 (viii) 66. adart ii No. -232 obv. 38–LoE (ix)

Tuplin 67. adart ii No. -230A&B obv. 15–16 (i) 68. adart ii No. -230A rev. 11 (vi) 69. adart ii No. -229A rev. 5–6 (xi) 70. adart ii No. -229B obv. 5–11 (xi) 71. adart ii No. -229B V13–15 (xii) 72. adart ii No. -226A obv. 1–4 (i) 73. adart ii No. -226A obv. 20–24 (ii) 74. adart ii No. -226A rev. 16–19 (iii) 75. adart ii No. -226B rev. 1–2 (x) 76. adart ii No. -225 obv. 5–9,15 (iii) 77. adart ii No. -209D obv. 16 (ii) 78. adart ii No. -207 obv. 17 (i) 79. adart ii No. -204A u.e.1. (i) 80. adart ii No. -204C rev. 14–19 + UE1–3 + LE1 (i) 81. adart ii No. -201D u.e.1–2 (xii 2) 82. adart ii No. -200A rev. 10–16 (xi) 83. adart ii No. -199A obv. 2 (i) 84. adart ii No. -198B rev. 13 (iv) 85. adart ii No. -197C rev. 5 (x) 86. adart ii No. -193B obv. 29 (viii) 87. adart ii No. -193B rev. 32 (xii 2) 88. adart ii No. -187A rev. 4–18 (xi) 89. adart ii No. -186A rev. 7 (xii) 90. adart ii No. -183A rev. 7–13 (ii) 91. adart ii No. -183C obv. 4–5 (ii) 92. adart ii No. -183C rev. 11 (iv) 93. adart ii No. -182A rev. 20 (viii) 94. adart ii No. -182B rev. 9–10 (viii) 95. adart ii No. -182C rev. 11–12 (xi) 96. adart ii No. -181 rev. 7–13 (iv) 97. adart ii No. -179B rev. 5+UE (v) 98. adart ii No. -179E rev. 14 (ix) 99. adart ii No. -178C rev. 18–22 (xii) 100. adart ii No. -176B 5 (v) 101. adart ii No. -176A rev. 5 (vi) 102. adart ii No. -175B rev. 2–7 + LE 1–2 (ix) 103. adart ii No. -173A rev. 2–3 (xi) 104. adart ii No. -171 B rev. 1–8 + UE 1–2 (v) 105. adart ii No. -170A obv. 1 (i)

Historical Entries in Dated Astronomical Diaries 106. adart ii No. -170A obv. 12–14 (ii) 107. adart ii No. -170A rev. 19 (v) 108. adart ii No. -170H obv. 12 (vii) 109. adart ii No. -168A obv. 14–15 (v) 110. adart ii No. -168B obv. 12 (vi) 111. adart ii No. -168A rev. 12–20 (viii) 112. adart ii No. -165AB rev. A6–B3 (v) 113. adart ii No. -164bc obv. B15–C14 (vii) 114. adart iii No. -163B obv. 17 (viii) 115. adart iii No. -163C2 obv. 17 (x) 116. adart iii No. -163C2 rev. 17–19 (xi) 117. adart iii No. -162 rev. 11–17(v) 118. adart iii No. -161A1A2 obv. 21–29 (i) 119. adart iii No. -161A1A2 rev. 11–12 (vi) 120. adart iii No. -161A1A2 rev. 27–29 (vii) 121. adart iii No. -160A obv. 2 (vii) 122. adart iii No. -160C obv. 6–7 (xi) 123. adart iii No. -160C rev. 1–4 (xii ⸣) 124. adart iii No. -158B rev. 17–UE 1 (v) 125. adart iii No. -158C 6–7 (vi) 126. adart iii No. -158E UE (x) 127. adart iii No. -156A obv. 20–23 (i) 128. adart iii No. -156A rev. 18–20 (v) 129. adart iii No. -156B obv. 18 (viii) 130. adart iii No. -156C 2 (xi) 131. adart iii No. -155A rev. 8–UE 2 (iv) 132. adart iii No. -154A 6 (iv) 133. adart iii No. -153 rev. 4 (v) 134. adart iii No. -152 rev. 14 135. adart iii No. -149A rev. 1–13 (iii) 136. adart iii No. -149B rev. 10–13 (vii) 137. adart iii No. -144 obv. 14–18 (vi) 138. adart iii No. -144 obv. 34–37 (vii) 139. adart iii No. -144 rev. 17–22 (viii) 140. adart iii No. -143A 18–22 (iv) 141. adart iii No. -143C 6–7 (viii) 142. adart iii No. -142A 17–18 (viii) 143. adart iii No. -141C obv. 11–12 (ii) 144. adart iii No. -141C rev. 27 (iii)

113

PARTHIAN 145. adart iii No. -140A obv. 20–23 (i) 146. adart iii No. -140A rev. 1–9 (iii) 147. adart iii No. -140A UE 1–5 (iv) 148. adart iii No. -140B rev. 9–11 (vii) 149 adart iii No. -140C obv. 34–44 (ix) 150. adart iii No. -140C rev. 29–42 (x) 151. adart iii No. -140D obv. 11–15 (x) 152. adart iii No. -137A obv. 16–19 (ii) 153. adart iii No. -137A rev. 3–11 (iv) 154. adart iii No. -137B rev. 19–21 (iii) 155. adart iii No. -137C obv. 19–20 (v) 156. adart iii No. -137C rev. 16–17 (viii) 157. adart iii No. -137D obv. 8 – rev. 3 (ix) 158. adart iii No. -137D rev. 22–28 (x) 159. adart iii No. -137E rev. 7 (xii) 160. adart iii No. -136B obv. 12–17 (viii) 161. adart iii No. -136B rev. 21–22 + LE 1–3 (xii 2) 162. adart iii No. -136C obv. 1–3 (ix) 163. adart iii No. -136C obv. 17–20 (x) 164. adart iii No. -136C rev. 12–14 (xi) 165. adart iii No. -134B obv. 15–17 (vii) 166. adart iii No. -134B rev. 9 (xi) 167. adart iii No. -133BC obv. 22–25 (xi) 168. adart iii No. -133BC rev. 18–21(xii) 169. adart iii No. -132A obv. 1–5 (i) 170. adart iii No. -132A rev. 2–4 (v) 171. adart iii No. -132B obv. 27–29 (vi) 172. adart iii No. -132B rev. 18–36 + LoE + LE + UE (vii) 173. adart iii No. -132CDE C26–C34 (vii) 174. adart iii No. -132D2 obv. D2 8–10 (viii) 175. adart iii No. -132D2 rev. 13–23 (x) 176. adart iii No. -132D1 rev. 7–13 (xi) 177. adart iii No. -132D1 rev. 29–30 + UE 1 (xii) 178. adart iii No. -131A 3–5 (vii) 179. adart iii No. -130B rev. 1–6 (iv, v or vi) 180. adart iii No. -130C obv. 10 (iii) 181. adart iii No. -130D obv. 18–20 (xi)

114 182. adart iii No. -129A1 obv. 6–15 (i) 183. adart iii No. -129A2 obv. 16–24 (ii) 184. adart iii No. -129A2 rev. 1 (iii) 185. adart iii No. -129A2 rev. 14–20 (iv) 186. adart iii No. -129A1 rev. 14 (v) 187. adart iii No. -126A obv. 6 – rev. 7 (viii) 188. adart iii No. -126B rev. 1–11 (xii) 189. adart iii No. -125A obv. 13–21 (i) 190. adart iii No. -125A rev. 5–8 (v) 191. adart iii No. -125A rev. 20 (vi) 192. adart iii No. -124A obv. 5–9 (i) 193. adart iii No. -124A obv. 23 (ii) 194. adart iii No. -124A obv. 34–37 (iii) 195. adart iii No. -124A rev. 4–7 (iv) 196. adart iii No. -124A rev. 18–24 (v) 197. adart iii No. -124B obv. 2–6 (viii) 198. adart iii No. -124B obv. 19–22 (ix) 199. adart iii No. -124B rev. 12–20 (x) 200. adart iii No. -123A obv. 5 (ii) 201. adart iii No. -123A obv. 18–20 (iii) 202. adart iii No. -123A rev. 6–8 (iv) 203. adart iii No. -123A rev. 23–24 (v) 204. adart iii No. -123B 15 (vi) 205. adart iii No. -123C 12–17 (v) 206. adart iii No. -122A obv. 5–8 (i) 207. adart iii No. -122D rev. 9–10 (vi 2) 208. adart iii No. -122E rev. 15–17 (xii) 209. adart iii No. -121 obv. 5 (iii) 210. adart iii No. -120 obv. 1–3 (iv) 211. adart iii No. -119A2 15–B1 13 (i) 212. adart iii No. -119C 11–12 (ii) 213. adart iii No. -119B1 10–12 (iii) 214. adart iii No. -119D UE (i) 215. adart iii No. -118A 19–22 (i) 216. adart iii No. -118A rev. 18–22 (vii) 217. adart iii No. -118B UE 3–6 (viii) 218. adart iii No. -117B obv. 3–4 (vii) 219. adart iii No. -117A 8 (viii) 220. adart iii No. -117B rev. 5 (xi)

Tuplin 221. adart iii No. -112 obv. 14–16 (vii) 222. adart iii No. -111A obv. 17–18 (i) 223. adart iii No. -111A obv. 31–32 (ii) 224. adart iii No. -111B obv. 5–8 (ii) 225. adart iii No. -111B rev. 8–12 (iv) 226. adart iii No. -111C 4–6 (ii) 227. adart iii No. -111D obv. 15 (iii) 228. adart iii No. -110 rev. 13–14 (v) 229. adart iii No. -109A obv. 13 (viii) 230. adart iii No. -109B obv. 7 (viii) 231. adart iii No. -108A 12–14 + B16 (i) 232. adart iii No. -108A 30 (ii) 233. adart iii No. -108A rev. 22 (v) 234. adart iii No. -108B rev. 3–4 (vi) 235. adart iii No. -108B rev. 20 (vii) 236. adart iii No. -108C 11–12 (vi) 237. adart iii No. -107A obv. 12–13 (iv) 238. adart iii No. -107B obv. 12–15 (vi) 239. adart iii No. -107C rev. 1–2 (xi) 240. adart iii No. -107C rev. 15–21 (xii) 241. adart iii No. -107D obv. 16–17 (viii) 242. adart iii No. -107D obv. 36–39 (ix) 243. adart iii No. -107D rev. 20–21 (xi) 244. adart iii No. -105A obv. 13–B16 (i) 245. adart iii No. -105B obv. 13–16 (i) 246. adart iii No. -105AB obv. A32/B30 (ii) 247. adart iii No. -105AB obv. 46 (iii) 248. adart iii No. -105A rev. 3–4 (iv) 249. adart iii No. -105A rev. 21–25 (v) 250. adart iii No. -105A rev. 38 (vi) 251. adart iii No. -105A rev. UE 2 (vii) 252. adart iii No. -105D 9–10 (?) 253. adart iii No. -103A 13 (ii) 254. adart iii No. -103B obv. 6–7 (viii) 255. adart iii No. -103B rev. 1–2 (ix) 256. adart iii No. -99B 15–16 (ix) 257. adart iii No. -97 rev. 3 (iv) 258. adart iii No. -96A 12–13 (i) 259. adart iii No. -96C 5–7 (ix)

Historical Entries in Dated Astronomical Diaries 260. adart iii No. -96C rev. 18–20 (xi) 261. adart iii No. -95A 9–12 (i) 262. adart iii No. -95C obv. 5–7 (i) 263. adart iii No. -95C rev. 10–12 (vi) 264. adart iii No. -95D 10–11 (ii) 265. cadart iii No. -95E 1–3 (iv) 266. cadart iii No. -93A rev. 11–13 (iv) 267. adart iii No. -93A rev. 23–26 (v) 268. adart iii No. -93B 8–10 (iv) 269. adart iii No. -90 obv. 1–3 (vii) 270. adart iii No. -90 O15–17 (viii) 271. adart iii No. -90 obv. 30–33 (ix) 272. adart iii No. -90 obv. 48–rev. 1 (x) 273. adart iii No. -90 rev. 16–18 (xi) 274. adart iii No. -88A rev. 1 (i?) 275. adart iii No. -88B obv. 11–12 (ix) 276. adart iii No. -87A rev. 14–16 (vi) 277. adart iii No. -87B flake 1 (iv) 278. adart iii No. -87C rev. 30–32 (xii) 279. adart iii No. -87C rev. 49–51 (xii 2) 280. adart iii No. -86A obv. 7–11 (ii) 281. adart iii No. -86A rev. 3–4 (iv) 282. adart iii No. -86B 8–11 (vii) 283. adart iii No. -86B 24–26 (viii) 284. adart iii No. -85 B6 (vi) 285. adart iii No. -85C1 rev. 14 (x)

115

286. adart iii No. -83 obv. 2–6 (ii) 287. adart iii No. -83 obv. 21–23 (iii) 288. adart iii No. -83 rev. 16–20 (iv) 289. adart iii No. -82A obv. 20–21 (i) 290. adart iii No. -82A rev. 5–8 (vi) 291. adart iii No. -82A rev. 19–24 (vii) 292. adart iii No. -82B obv. 18–23 (x) 293. adart iii No. -82B rev. 1–7 (xii) 294. adart iii No. -82B rev. 22 (xii 2) 295. adart iii No. -79 obv. 4–6 (ii) 296. adart iii No. -79 rev. 10 (vi) 297. adart iii No. -78 12–13 (vi) 298. adart iii No. -77A obv. 8–12 (i) 299. adart iii No. -77A obv. 26–31 (ii) 300. adart iii No. -77A rev. 5 (iii) 301. adart iii No. -77A rev. 18 (iv) 302. adart iii No. -77A rev. 29–31 (v) 303. adart iii No. -77B obv. 11 (vii) 304. adart iii No. -77B obv. 26–27 (viii) 305. adart iii No. -77B rev. 13–17 (xi) 306. adart iii No. -75 rev. 7 (ix) 307. adart iii No. -73 4 (ii) 308. adart iii No. -72 4–11 (viii) 309. adart iii No. -62 obv. 17–20 (i) 310. adart iii No. -62 rev. 3 (?)

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Waerzeggers, C., 2012, “The Babylonian Chronicles: Classification and Provenance”, Journal of Near Eastern Studies 71, 285–298. Waerzeggers, C., 2016, “Facts, Propaganda or History? Shaping Political Memory in the Nabonidus Chronicle”, in Silverman and Waerzeggers 2016, 95–125. Zadok, R., 1985, Geographical Names according to New- and Late-Babylonian Texts (Wiesbaden: Reichert).

Chapter 4

Who Wrote the Babylonian Astronomical Diaries? Eleanor Robson The Babylonian Astronomical Diaries comprise the longest-running and perhaps most important observational dataset from the ancient world.1 Yet we still know very little about how they were made. Who wrote the Diaries? Who collected, organised and compiled the data they contain? Who made the manuscripts that have come down to us, whether originals or copies? These ­questions are surprisingly difficult to answer. As Alice Slotsky has pointed out, only six Diary tablets have even partially surviving colophons giving information about the circumstances of their production.2 Yet the surviving manuscripts may be decades or even centuries younger than the original from which they were copied.3 As for the collection of the data, the clearest evidence comes at the very beginning and end of the tradition: letters and legal documents give testimony of individuals making celestial observations in the mid-seventh and late second centuries bce. But each of these data sets raises questions about the extent to which they can be generalised. At one end of the chronological spectrum, even though we can identify the men who reported their celestial observations to the Assyrian king (as discussed further in Section 1), this network predates the crystallisation of the Diaries as a genre by 50–100 years and is focused on Nineveh, not Babylon where 1 This paper draws on research carried out for the Geography of Knowledge project (http:// oracc.org/cams/gkab), 2007–12, funded by the UK Arts and Humanities Research Council (AH/E509258/1), and during an Alexander Humboldt Foundation Bessel Forschungspreis 2011–12. I warmly thank gkab project members Marie-Françoise Besnier, Philippe Clancier, Graham Cunningham, Frances Reynolds, Steve Tinney and Greta Van Buylaere and the Department of History and Philosophy of Science, University of Cambridge; and express particular gratitude to Professor Stefan Maul, my host in Heidelberg. 2 Slotsky (1998: 99–103): adart i No. -372A: “[Bēl?]-uṣuršu, son of Nabû-uballissu” (Artaxerxes ii 32); adart i No. -361: “hand of Uballissu-Bēl, son of Bēl-apla-[iddin]” (Artaxerxes ii 43); adart i No. -324A: “From […]-Bēl, son of Mušallim-Bēl […]” (Alexander iii 12/6); adart i No. -321 “From(?) […] Bēl-apla-iddin, son of Mušallim-Bēl, descendant of Mušēzib, which he wrote for his good health, which was copied (from) the property of […]” (Philip 2); adart i No. -281A: “[…] Bēl-uballiṭ” (SE 30); adart ii No. -261C: “[…] ditto, son of […]” (SE 50). 3 Oelsner (2000: 805). For instance, the word “from” in the colophon of adart i No. -324A and the explicit copying statement in No. -321 (see note 2 above) suggests that these are not originals.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���9 | doi:10.1163/9789004397767_006

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the Diaries originated under a new political regime. At the other end, the Parthian evidence (analysed in Section 4 below) clearly shows a self-governing community, based in Marduk’s temple in Babylon, deciding which members are fit to observe, record, and calculate, and what their remuneration should be. Those men identify as ṭupšar Enūma Anu Enlil, literally “scribe of (the celestial omen series) ‘When the gods Anu and Enlil’”, a term which is generally, if inaccurately, translated into English as “astrologer”.4 It would be nice to think that this was the professional label that all diarists used to describe themselves and, in the absence of any evidence to the contrary, it has usually been assumed that this is the case. But, as we shall see, we are up against the hard facts that, as Francesca Rochberg notes, until the Hellenistic period we have precious little evidence of individuals using the title ṭupšar Enūma Anu Enlil, and that none of that evidence comes from surviving Diary manuscripts, nor the precious few copies of Enūma Anu Enlil itself.5 So where do we go from here? First, it is important to distinguish the compilers of the Diaries—I shall call them the diarists—as only one small subset of the people with an intellectual interest in the movements of the heavenly bodies in the first millennium bce. The largest group was surely made up of those who watched the night skies on a regular basis, whether for divinatory or calendrical purposes. We can almost certainly count a significant proportion of the adult population amongst these observers, for years and months began with the sighting of the new moon at sunset, in both civic and religious calendars. Further, many people observed taboos on certain days of the lunar month, and some months of the lunar year, as laid out in hemerologies and menologies such as the so-called Babylonian Almanac and Iqqur īpuš, “He destroyed, he built”.6 Then, as zodiacal astrology gained currency in the course of the fifth century bce, therapeutic interventions such as medical treatments and ritual performances were increasingly tied to which constellations were currently visible in the night sky.7 Some observers may have noted what they saw for their own use, but only a small subset can have been reporters—people who formally and systematically described their observations in writing, whether for an external client such as a king or for long-term personal, familial or community use. Some of these reporters, such as the scholars associated with the Assyrian court, wrote reports 4 Cf. Rochberg (2004: 219). 5 Rochberg (2004: 220). 6 See Livingstone (2007, 2013); Lauinger (2016) for editions and explanations of these compositions. 7 Heeßel (2008); Wee (2016).

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of single events; others, such as the diarists, made much longer compilations, in a process that we are only now beginning to understand.8 As we shall see in Section 1 below, reporters to the Assyrian king were based in half a dozen cities of Assyria and Babylonia. However, as John Steele has demonstrated, in post-Assyrian Babylonia, the diarists almost certainly resided only in Babylon itself, where they or others also produced secondary compilations of celestial observations.9 Strictly speaking, then, our quest should focus exclusively on that city. However, there were also significant numbers of scholars who used data and compilations extracted from the Diaries (or their precursors) in other cities, including Nineveh, Nippur, and Uruk. A further tranche of tertiary works, derived in turn from the secondary compilations mentioned above, are found in Nippur and Uruk as well as Babylon. Most useful for our purposes are the Horoscopes, from the late fifth century onwards.10 So we should consider the identities of their consumers too. We can find traces of all four groups—observers, reporters, consumers, and the diarists t­ hemselves— right up until the end of the cuneiform tradition in mid-first century bce Babylon.11 As the evidence covers some seven centuries, and drastically changing political circumstances, it will be helpful to periodise the discussion. For our ­Babylon-centric purposes, we shall treat the Neo-Assyrian period as b­ eginning with Sargon ii’s conquest of Babylonia and ending with ­Nabopolassar’s declaration of independence, 709–627 bce. The succeeding period of ­ ­self-government, it is now commonly agreed, transitioned relatively smoothly into the early years of Persian rule for most Babylonian institutions, and for that reason we shall treat the Neo-Babylonian and Early Achaemenid periods together as the Long Sixth Century, 626–485 bce. The Late Achaemenid era, beginning early in the reign of Xerxes and ending with the conquest of Alexander the Great, thus runs 484–331 bce. Finally, I shall take the Hellenistic period to include the reigns of Alexander and his immediate successors, as well as 8 9

10 11

Mitsuma (2015). Steele (2016: 91–100). From the early fourth century bce onwards these included lists of lunar eclipses, planetary phenomena, and solar eclipses, and from the mid-third century Goal Year Texts, which predicted a range of key celestial events in a given year, based on their regular occurrences in years past. See Hunger (1999) for a useful summary of these genres and their relationships. From the early third century bce there were also month-by-month predictive texts now known as Normal Star Almanacs, and Almanacs from the late third century, both probably compiled from data in Goal Year Texts (Gray and Steele 2008). I shall not attempt to address the last vestiges of cuneiform scholarship in the first century ce, which comprised merely a few “badly trained scribes composing simple Almanacs and Goal Year Texts in bad cuneiform” (Brown 2008: 94).

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those of the Seleucid kings, 330–141 bce, plus the first century or so of Parthian rule over Babylonia, during which time the dateable cuneiform record finally peters out in Babylon in the final decades bce. For each period, I shall attempt to answer the following questions: – Who recorded celestial observations, whether in single reports or compilations? – How did they describe themselves and how did they earn a living? – Which scholarly professions utilised observational records (single reports, compiled diaries) for other types of predictive work? Along the way it will become apparent why the title ṭupšar Enūma Anu Enlil is attested so rarely in the historical record. 1

The Neo-Assyrian Period, ca. 709–627 bce

The well-known corpus of celestial observation reports and associated letters from named scholars to Assyrian kings comprises well over 600 items.12 They were sent from a much smaller range of places than commonly assumed: not “all over the empire”, as I have myself written, but only from the cities of the so-called “central triangle” of the Assyrian heartland—Arbaʾil, Assur, Ekallatu, Kasappa, Kilizi, Kurbaʾil, Kalhu, and Tarbiṣu; the far western outpost of Harran; and a cluster of northern Babylonian cities—Babylon, Borsippa, Dilbat, and Kutha—along with Uruk and maybe Ur in the south.13 Conversely, the corpus is from a much wider time-range than commonly assumed. Although it clusters densely in the years 679–665 bce, namely the reign of Esarhaddon and the first few years of his son Ashurbanipal, there are two reports dated explicitly in their colophons to the last decade of the eighth century bce, plus a handful written in the 650s and early 40s.14 However, no extant celestial divination report to an Assyrian king post-dates the civil war of 652–648 bce. Meanwhile, from Babylonia a smattering of anonymous lunar observations from the 740s to 630s bce is preserved in a compilation from the late fourth century bce or later (see further Section 2 below). A few “proto-Diary” observational compendia survive from this time as well.15 We can therefore examine the evidence

12 13 14 15

Hunger (1992); Parpola (1993); Fincke (2010). Fincke (2010: 49, 57) identifies Wiseman and Black (1996): no. 29 from Kalhu and Gadd and Kramer (1966): no. 413 from Ur as hitherto unrecognised celestial omen reports. Hunger (1992: xx); Fincke (2010: 57). Steele (2000); and this volume.

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from this period from three different perspectives: from the royal palaces at Nineveh; from the points of view of the Assyrian reporters; and from Babylonia. Let us begin with the palace perspective. A well-known document found in one of the ruined Assyrian royal palaces at Nineveh names forty-five men, grouped into eight scholarly professions. It begins as follows:16 Issar-šumu-ēreš, Nādin-aḫḫē, Balāssu, Bunaya, Kiṣir-Nabû, Etel-pû, Bēlēṭir: [total 7 ṭupšar] Enūma Anu Enlil. The next entries are for 9 āšipu-healers, then 5 bārû-diviners, 9 asû-healers, 6 kalû-lamenters, 3 dāgil iṣṣūrī bird augurs, 3 Egyptian ḫarṭibu-scholars, and 3 Egyptian scribes. The text is dated only to the month and day but, given the presence of the Egyptians, Karen Radner argues that it was probably drawn up shortly after Esarhaddon’s military campaign to Egypt in 671 bce.17 This text, it is commonly agreed, provides evidence that members of five native scholarly professions, and three “foreign” ones, were employed at the Assyrian court; that this “inner circle” of courtier-scholars was typically several dozen strong; and that the most prestigious and influential of them were the ṭupšarrū Enūma Anu Enlil, headed by Issar-šumu-ēreš—whom we know from other evidence to have been Esarhaddon’s ummânu or rab ṭupšarrī “chief scribe”. But the situation was more complex than that. Although the document itself tells us nothing of its purpose, it is reasonable to suppose, in parallel with similar records, that it lists all of the scholars present at court on one particular day.18 Only a dozen of these men, including Issar-šumu-ēreš, Balāssu, Bēl-ēṭir, and Nādin-aḫḫē, are unambiguously identifiable elsewhere in the voluminous Assyrian royal correspondence of the period, perhaps a further four individuals if we accept they could hold different professional titles.19 The nine members of the three non-Babylonian professions at the end of the roster are never mentioned elsewhere. Some scholars may have come to Nineveh solely for a special event such as a feast or ceremony, while even those with the longest, closest relationship to the king were not employed by him as such, in the sense of a permanent, exclusive contract. As I have shown in detail elsewhere, the royal āšipus and kalûs were primarily priests, supported by regular income from temple endowments in Kalhu and Harran respectively, while individual 16 Fales and Postgate (1992): no. 1, obv. i 1–8. 17 Radner (2009: 222). 18 E.g. Fales and Postgate (1992): nos. 149–153. 19 Robson (forthcoming: Chapter 4, 1–2).

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āšipus and asûs also cared for other clients, who sometimes took priority over the royal family.20 The king rewarded good service with patronage gifts, such as clothing and land rights, which he could also take away, and punished bad service with galītu, “expulsion”—and possibly worse.21 Beyond this one document, the title ṭupšar Enūma Anu Enlil is rarely found in the Assyrian state archives. Some royal correspondents referred to other men as ṭupšarrū Enūma Anu Enlil, but never in reference to specific practices. For instance, crown prince Šamaš-šumu-ukīn wrote to his father Esarhaddon in 670 bce to denounce three Babylonian scholars: one bārû-diviner and two ṭupšarrū Enūma Anu Enlil who “observe the skies all night and day”, mūšu kalla ūmu šamê idaggul.22 According to informers from nearby Borsippa, these traitors had defected to Assyria’s arch-enemy Elam. By contrast, the outcast Marduk-šāpik-zēri is careful to avoid the title in his famous letter offering to supply a retinue of “twenty able scholars” if permitted to return to court.23 Instead, he and some of his apprentices a/iltasi “have read”, a/ileʾʾi “are able in”, or ugdammir “have completed” the various scholarly disciplines, dullu and series, iškaru, including Enūma Anu Enlil. Only two men are identified explicitly as āšipus, another as an asû. None, despite their expertise in the requisite learning, is labelled as a ṭupšar Enūma Anu Enlil. Likewise, and most importantly for the topic at hand, the very men who reported on celestial observations almost never self-identified as ṭupšar Enūma Anu Enlil either. With a single, late exception it was a professional designation that they simply did not use. Most of the time reporters and letter-writers identified themselves by given name only, on the expectation that the ­recipient— whether the king or one of his scribes—already knew their identity. Chief scribe Issar-šumu-ēreš, the most senior scholar in the land, sometimes substituted his title, rab ṭupšarrī, for his name at the bottom of his reports (but never in letters).24 Otherwise Assyrian correspondents who were external to the court might identify themselves, individually or collectively, by city (e.g., Nabuʾa of Assur; the scribes of Kilizi).25 Two men referred to themselves as the 20 21 22 23

Robson (forthcoming: Chapter 4); also Gabbay (2014a, 2014b) on kalûs. Parpola (1987); Westbrook (2005); Robson (2011a). Luukko and Van Buylaere (2002): no. 21, obv. 23 – rev. 2. Parpola (1993): no. 160. The translation is inconsistent and misleading, regularly eliding the distinction between ability in a scholarly discipline or series, and the possession of the relevant professional title. Similarly, throughout the book professional designations such as “astrologer” in chapter titles are merely a structuring device for grouping letters by content, and are not based on explicit ancient self-identifications. Caveat lector! 24 E.g. Hunger (1992): no. 2. 25 E.g. Hunger (1992): no. 126; Parpola (1993): no. 143.

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rab ešerti of a city, literally “decurion” or “commander-of-ten (men)”.26 This was a general-purpose term that was used in Neo-Assyrian hierarchical organisations such as army units and labour forces to denote a position below the more senior “cohort commander” rab kiṣri and “commander-of-fifty” rab ḫanšê.27 Babylonian scholars too sometimes identified themselves by city, and sometimes also by familial descent (maḫrû or qatnu, “senior” or “junior”; son, nephew, or descendant of so-and-so). In addition, one man signed off reports with the scholarly title āšipu, another as kalû.28 Only an individual named Šumāya, author of two or three lunar reports in Babylonian script, once calls himself a ṭupšar Enūma Anu Enlil ša kiṣri ešši “of the new team”.29 We should probably not read too much into Šumāya’s use of kiṣru for his “team” or “cohort”, as this word also had many informal uses outside institutional contexts. Arguably, it would have been redundant for reporters to identify as a ṭupšar Enūma Anu Enlil in expert correspondence on celestial observation, and so we should perhaps not expect to find the title there. However, with varying degrees of confidence we can identify the titles used by some of the reporters in other contexts. Here too, they choose to represent themselves as members of other scholarly professions rather than as ṭupšarrū Enūma Anu Enlil. The evidence, comprising information from colophons on scholarly works and passing references in royal correspondence, is clearest for the courtiers closest to the king. Urad-Ea, of the eminent Šumu-libši family, was concurrently chief kalû of the king and kalû of Sîn’s temple in the far western Assyrian provincial capital Harran; Uri Gabbay argues that he also held the post of chief kalû at Marduk’s temple Esagila in Babylon.30 The well-known descendants of Gabbuilāni-ēreš, meanwhile, comprised a veritable dynasty of āšipus based at Nabû’s temple Ezida in Kalhu. Members of that family who are also documented as reporters include brothers Nabû-zēru-lēšir, Esarhaddon’s rab ṭupšarrī, and Adadšumu-uṣur, his āšip šarri; and the former’s sons Issar-šumu-ēreš and Šumāya, who became Ashurbanipal’s rab ṭupšarrī and āšipu respectively.31 The family’s scholarly tablets excavated from the scriptorium of the Kalhu Ezida include 26 E.g. Parpola (1993): nos. 128, 138. 27 Postgate (2007: 344); Van Buylaere (2010: 235). 28 E.g. Hunger (1992): nos. 456, 569. 29 Hunger (1992): no. 499, rev. 4–6; also no. 498 and possibly also no. 450 (if Šum-iddin is the long form of the hypocoristic Šumāya). This man is certainly not the Šumāya son of Nabû-zēru-lēšir who appears to have worked as an āšipu for crown prince Ashurbanipal in Tarbiṣu and who wrote half a dozen reports in Neo-Assyrian script (Hunger 1992): nos. 175–180; Parpola (1993): nos. 257, 273, Luukko and Van Buylaere (2002): nos. 34–35. 30 Gabbay (2014a: 241–242; 2014b: 120). 31 E.g. Robson (2014: 7–8).

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over two-dozen manuscripts of Enūma Anu Enlil and a draft report on a lunar eclipse in Nisannu (month i).32 Last but not least, Akkullānu, as šangû-priest of Aššur’s temple in Assur, was one of the most senior clergymen in the land.33 In other words, as far as the extant evidence takes us, in the seventh century bce the Assyrian kings’ most trusted reporters were all primarily priests. The contemporary Babylonian evidence is much patchier and more circumstantial, but points in the same direction.34 We have already seen that two Babylonian reporters give their professions as āšipu and kalû respectively, while another named Rīmūtu might well be the Babylonian āšipu of the same name attested at Ashurbanipal’s court.35 A further four individuals are homonymous with men associated with Babylonian temples, although at this point the identity between them is purely speculative. Nādinu, Zākir, and Aplāya of Borsippa may have been prebendary priests of Nabû in Borsippa, while Šum-iddin (see note 28 above) is the name of a šatammu-priest of Marduk’s temple Esagila in Babylon.36 2

The Long Sixth Century, 626–485 bce

As John Steele argues elsewhere in this volume, the Diaries were created as a standardised genre of regular record-keeping in the so-called “long sixth century” between the fall of the Assyrian empire in the 620s–610s bce and the Persian repression of northern Babylonian temple communities in 484 bce. However, in part due to the accidents of archaeological preservation, recovery and publication there is frustratingly little contemporary evidence for activity relating to Diaries, whether from the palace, the temple or the family archive. Just two Diaries survive from this period, plus a small but steady stream of eclipse observations, mostly preserved in much later manuscripts.37 Accordingly, we have to work a little harder than before to investigate the

32 33 34 35 36 37

Wiseman and Black (1996): nos. 1–26, 30, no. 29; Fincke (2010: 49–52); Robson et al. (2007– 2012) s.v. “Kalhu”. Villard (1998). A partially preserved report found at Ur, dating to 657 bce, suggests that not every set of Babylonian observations was made for the benefit of the Assyrian king (Gadd and Kramer 1966: no. 413; Fincke 2010: 57). Radner and Baker (1998–2011), s.v. “Rēmūtu” nos. 9–11. Radner and Baker (1998–2011), s.vv. “Aplāia or Apil-Aia”, nos. 17 and 19; “Nādinu” no. 12; “Šumu-iddina” nos. 3 and 5; “Zākiru” nos. 4 and 7. adart i Nos. -567; adart v: Nos. 3–8.

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c­ ircumstances of the production and consumption of observational data, but there are useful hints to be found. First, we simply do not know whether Babylonian kings consulted celestial omens at all, let alone whether they adopted, adapted or rejected ­Assyrian models of scholarship. Given how closely Babylonian imperial structures were modelled on Assyrian precursors, it is initially striking that scholars are missing from the apparently exhaustive list of governors, courtiers and high priests in Nebuchadnezzar’s so-called Hofkalender.38 But there are several possible explanations for this omission: first, the text is badly damaged and the list incomplete; the king’s scholarly entourage may have featured in a now missing section.39 Alternatively, scholars are absent from this list, which records grandees assigned to work on the construction of Nebuchadnezzar’s palace, solely because they did not participate in this work; perhaps they contributed instead through ritual or cultic performance. Third, it is possible that the scholars’ textual absence does in fact reflect their real-life absence from the Babylonian court. We have already seen that Assyrian royal patronage of scholarship declined early in the 640s bce and thus it may simply not have figured in the courtly model of governance that Babylon adopted a generation later. As ever, absence of evidence does not constitute evidence of absence. The building inscriptions of the early Neo-Babylonian, or Chaldaean, kings hint at the use of bārûs and āšipus in the performance of temple construction, but it is not clear whether these personnel were supplied by the crown or by the priesthood.40 I have found no reference, however oblique, to celestial divination in determining auspicious times for Babylonian royal action before the inscriptions of the usurper Nabonidus (ruled 555–539 bce). Even these are not straightforward. The best known example is Nabonidus’ description of the moon setting in eclipse on the 13th of Ulūlu (month vi) as a sign that “the moon-god Suen requests an entu-priestess”.41 But, as Erica Reiner argued many years ago, this statement is part of an elaborate antiquarian construction designed to justify the new king’s resurrection and promotion of a moribund cult.42 Given what we now know about the Chaldaean dynasty’s closeness to Uruk and Eanna, we can also read the whole move as a strategy to disempower the old regime’s southern power base and to set up a new rival.43 On another 38 39 40 41 42 43

Da Riva (2013a, 2013b); Jursa (2010b, 2014). Da Riva (2013a: 201). E.g. Nbpl C31 ii 24–31 (Da Riva 2013b: 82–84). En-Ningaldi-Nanna Cylinder i 8–10 (Schaudig 2001: 373–375). Reiner (1985: 8–9). Jursa (2007); Fuchs (2014). Kleber (2008: 12–17) details Nabonidus’ reorganisation of Eanna’s cult and administration at the beginning of his first regnal year, bringing it “unter die ausschließliche Kontrolle von königlichen Beamten”.

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occasion Nabonidus simply dreamed of a favourable alignment of heavenly bodies, with his predecessor Nebuchadnezzar appearing in the same vision to explain their meaning.44 In this way he bypassed the living scholars’ observations and interpretations entirely, while co-opting the authority of a former royal power to whom many members of the elite were still loyal. We should not take either of Nabonidus’ accounts as an objective description of ­Neo-Babylonian court procedure for reporting. In terms of evidence for communication between kings and scholars, the Babylonian court does not offer us anything like the Assyrian royal correspondence to draw on because, as Michael Jursa argues, for the most part official communications were written in alphabetic Aramaic on long-perished organic media.45 Yet as Jursa also shows, Babylonian kings continued to write to major temple officials in cuneiform, on clay, and there is nothing in the admittedly scarce surviving letters and the slightly more plentiful replies to them to suggest that temples formally provided divinatory reporters or reports to the state. However, the extant epistolary evidence is all from the Eanna temple in Uruk and, to a lesser degree, the Ebabbar temple in Sippar, not Esagila in Babylon, where we suspect the Diaries were produced.46 Nonetheless, given Ebabbar’s renown in bārûtu or sacrificial divination, one might expect hints of analogous services rendered to the court from Sippar, if they had been provided.47 There were certainly observers of some sort in Eanna, as attested by the evidence discussed below. Whereas in Assyria the king endowed temples directly, which then paid for their priestly staff, Caroline Waerzeggers has shown that in the long sixth century Babylonian priesthood was an inherited, part-time privilege: a duty to serve the gods on certain days of the month or year, in exchange for rights to a share of the redistributed offerings.48 Waerzeggers identifies four main categories of these prebendary priests: caterers, who sourced and prepared the gods’ meals; artisans, who maintained the material fabric of the temple 44 45 46 47

48

Beaulieu (1989: 110–111); Babylon Stele vi 4–36 (Schaudig 2001: no. 3.3a, pp. 519, 525). Jursa (2014). Clancier (2009: 159–163, 169–172). On the basis of five surviving letter-orders, Beaulieu (1989: 6–12; followed by Rochberg 2004: 224–225) argued that Nabonidus sent scholarly “experts”, ummânū, from Babylon to Sippar’s Ebabbar to excavate the temple’s foundations and look for ancient inscriptions there. However, Bongenaar (1997: 367–369) used a large number of ration-list entries from Ebabbar to argue that these ummânū were in fact artisanal “experts”, such as kutimmu-goldsmiths and kabšarru-jewellers, who regularly travelled to Ebabbar in the late spring—perhaps in order to carry out delicate repairs to the gods’ adornments—over a period of at least sixty years, ca. 585–525 bce. Waerzeggers (2011).

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and its contents, including the statues of the gods themselves; bureaucrats, who ensured the smooth running of temple affairs; and of course the ritualists, who served the gods directly through performance of temple cult. All temples needed priests in each of these categories, but not every temple deployed the full range of professions. In smaller temples in particular, a single individual could hold more than one type of prebend simultaneously. Most, if not all, of the larger temples deployed āšipus and kalûs for certain cultic duties, but for the most part the prebendary status of these professions is unclear and in any case is unlikely to have been the same in every Babylonian city.49 This new understanding of Babylonian temple professions has important consequences for the riddle of the apparently invisible scholarly profession of ṭupšar Enūma Anu Enlil at this time, and the related question of who was observing and documenting the night skies. Two depositions made in the summer of 531 bce to the senior officials of the Eanna temple in Uruk and its ­subsidiary Ebabbar in nearby Larsa provide important evidence here:50 [Four named men], the kalûs of the Lady-of-Uruk, stated [to the senior officials of the temple] as follows: “On the 13th day of Simanu (month iii), in the 8th year of Cyrus, king of Babylon, king of the lands, when we placed the copper kettledrum at the gate of Eanna, we did not consult with Nabû-mukīn-apli, the šatammu of Eanna, son of Nadin, descendant of Dabibu, or with Nabû-aḫa-iddin, the courtier, commissioner (ša rēš šarri bēl piqitti) of Eanna, about placing the kettledrum (there). And they did not approach us about it until it was time to remove the kettledrum.” Arad-Marduk, scribe, son of Marduk-šum-iddin, descendant of Bēl-apaluṣur. Uruk, Duʾūzu (month iv), day 18, year 8 of Cyrus, king of the lands. [Three men] stated as follows [to the officials of Ebabbar]: “On the 13th day of Simanu, in the 8th year of Cyrus, king of Babylon, king of the lands, after sunset the kalûs of Ebabbar placed a copper kettledrum at the gate of Ebabbar and declared, ‘Eclipse!’ And all the people of Larsa saw our placing of the copper kettledrum.” Arad-Marduk, scribe, son of Marduk-šum-iddin, descendant of Bēl-apaluṣur. Uruk, Duʾūzu (month iv), day 15, year 8 of Cyrus, king of the lands.

49 50

Robson (forthcoming: Chapter 6). Beaulieu and Britton (1994); translations mine. On Larsa’s subsidiary relationship to Uruk see Beaulieu (1991, 1993).

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As Paul-Alain Beaulieu and John Britton convincingly showed, the kalûs of Uruk here take responsibility for a mistimed eclipse ritual, which was also performed in Larsa under their instruction. The date of their public performances coincides with the predicted date of a lunar eclipse according to a Babylonian astronomical model that had been developed some time before ca. 575 bce, based on compilations of observational data from the mid-eighth century onwards.51 Now anachronistically called the Saros, it was known to its original users simply as 18 šanātu “18 Years” because it predicted that an eclipse of the same magnitude and direction should occur (if not be visible from Babylon) every 223 synodic months, or roughly 18 years plus 10 or 11 days.52 There were 38 eclipse possibilities per 18-year Saros cycle, one every five or six months. According to this model, there was indeed a possibility of an eclipse on the night of 15 June (or 8 Simanu), 531 bce but it would not have been visible in Babylonia.53 In other words, the Eanna kalûs knew how to predict eclipse possibilities using the Saros but misjudged the likelihood of the eclipse’s visibility in this particular case. They must have had rules for assessing visibility, for in the previous 18-year cycle only 15 of the 38 eclipse possibilities had actually been visible to them, and it is difficult to imagine any temple expending resources and squandering prestige on ritual performances every five or six months for celestial events that failed to materialise more often than not. Indeed, the very fact that the kalûs were held accountable in this particular instance strongly suggests that normally their prediction methods worked. For our purposes, it is significant that the men responsible, both for the performance and for the astronomical decision behind it, are identified in the depositions as kalûs: this, then, was their official relationship to the temple. Very little else is known about the three kalûs of Larsa.54 More can be said about their counterparts in Uruk. Contemporary legal documents show that chief kalû Šamaš-tabni-uṣur also held a prebend as ṭupšar Eanna “scribe of the Eanna temple”, namely one of the senior administrators who supported the šatammu’s work.55 Two of his three colleagues are attested elsewhere in the Eanna archive without titles.56 All belonged to the Sîn-lēqi-unninni or Iddin-Enlil families, other members of which are documented as prebendary kalûs and ṭupšarrū Eanna respectively.57 The scholarly title kalû was thus 51 52 53 54 55 56 57

Steele (2000: 432); Brack-Bernsen and Steele (2005). Steele (2000: 424. n 11). Steele (2000: 436). Beaulieu and Britton (1994: 74–75). Kümmel (1979: 147); Hackl (2013: 289). Kümmel (1979: 132 n171, 147). Beaulieu (2000); Kümmel (1979: 125).

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context-dependent, used only in pertinent circumstances. If any of the kalûs also held the title ṭupšar Enūma Anu Enlil, as one might expect, the scribe of these two documents, Arad-Marduk, did not feel that fact was germane to this deposition. We cannot tell if the kalûs were themselves observers of the night sky—except in the trivial sense that they must have noticed when the predicted lunar eclipse failed to happen—but they were certainly consumers of observed and predicted data, whose origins were presumably in Babylon. 3

The Late Achaemenid Period, 484–331 bce

The temple elites of Uruk and Babylon had had close ties with each other and with the Babylonian royal family for centuries: dynastic founder Nabopolassar’s father had been governor of Uruk under the Assyrians and as crown prince Nebuchadnezzar had been Eanna’s šatammu.58 Men with northern Babylonian names, such as the scribe Arad-Marduk, served in Eanna alongside southerners such as Šamaš-tabni-uṣur. But those ties were eventually broken, first by the usurper Nabonidus in 555 bce and then, irrevocably, by the Persian conquerors in 539. These new kings, who did not belong to the northern Babylonian temple communities, began to treat them more as exploitable financial resources than as sources of political support and divine legitimation. Longrunning tensions over taxation, control and institutional independence erupted into anti-imperial revolts in 520 bce and again in 484 bce, led by figures with ties to the former dynasty. The consequences of the reprisals, visible in the archaeological record as a widespread “end of archives”, in Caroline Waerzeggers’ phrase, were, as I have argued elsewhere, deep and devastating for cuneiform scholarship, as for many other aspects of Babylonian urban life.59 However, those consequences were felt differently in different places, making a variable impact on diarists and their associates, just as they did on other individuals and communities. If there had been any patronage of cuneiform scholarship in the early Achaemenid court, there was certainly none now. In Babylon itself, the ziggurat Etemenanki was decommissioned by removal of its staircase.60 In Marduk’s temple Esagila, as Johannes Hackl has shown, the senior posts of šatammu and qīpu were abolished and the system of prebendary priesthoods dismantled.61 58 59 60 61

Jursa (2007); Fuchs (2014). Waerzeggers (2003/2004); Robson (2017, 2018). George (2010). Hackl (2013: 293–295).

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In theory these measures disempowered and pauperised the local elite families who, by virtue of their inherited prebends and resultant wealth, had dominated local institutions and influenced state politics for centuries. That was certainly the short-term outcome: as Heather Baker has demonstrated, many houses in the wealthy district of Babylon now known as Merkes, from the Processional Way to the eastern city wall, were abandoned at this time, and the city quarter never regained its former prosperity.62 Gradually, however, the temple community regrouped and reorganised, focusing only on its own internal business since it had been excluded from state affairs. Esagila was now managed by a collective called “the scribes and commissioners of Esagila”, ṭupšarrū u bēl piqnēti ša Esagila, comprising representatives from each of its constituent professional groups.63 Each of these in turn—including āšipus, kalûs, and, separately, ṭupšarrū Enūma Anu Enlil— was governed by a guild-like kiništu, “collegium” or “assembly”, chosen (in ways that are not yet clear) by and from its own members.64 An annual payment record for Esagila’s ṭupšarrū Enūma Anu Enlil sometime in the fourth century bce—anywhere between 85 and 170 years after the “end of archives”—shows 14 of these men, each receiving a monthly kurummatu-ration of 1 kurru, ca. 150 litres, of barley (which could then be traded for other goods):65 Barley for the kurummatu-rations of the ṭupšarrū Enūma Anu Enlil, from Nisannu (month i) until the end of Addaru (month xii) of the 6th year, in the care of Aḫḫē-…. 1 kurru: Ea-iddin, son of Šumāya 1 kurru: Ea-aplu-iddin, son of Ea-iddin 1 kurru: Libluṭ, son of Marduk-šumu-līšir 1 kurru: Balāṭu, son of Marduk-šumu-līšir 1 kurru: Bēl-apla-iddin, son of Bēl-bullissu 1 kurru: Bēl-uballiṭ, son of Bēl-aḫḫē-iddin 1 kurru: Bēl-bullissu, son of Arabi 1 kurru: Ea-bullissu, son of Ea-lūmur 1 kurru: Nergal-tēši-ēṭir, son of Iddīya (several lines missing) 14 kurru of barley: kurummatu-rations of Araḫsamnu (month viii), year 6 62 63 64 65

Baker (2008). Hackl (2013: 297–299). Hackl (2013: 299–300). ybc 11549 (Beaulieu 2006). As Beaulieu (2006: 7–8) points out, the sixth regnal year of an unnamed king translates to possible dates of 399/398 (Artaxerxes ii), 353/352 (Artaxerxes iii), 318/317 (Philip iii), 312/311 (Antigonos), or 311/310 (Alexander iv).

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14 kurru of barley: kurummatu-rations of Kislīmu (month ix), year 6 14 kurru of barley: kurummatu-rations of Ṭebētu (month x), year 6 14 kurru of barley: kurummatu-rations of Šabātu (month xi), year 6 14 kurru of barley: kurummatu-rations of Addaru (month xii), year 6. None of the men is given a family name, but amongst them are a father-son pair and two brothers. The rest are apparently unrelated to each other. The document does not specify what they did to earn their keep, whether their duties were part-time or full-time, or whether they all performed the same tasks or specialised within the group. However, it is reasonable to suppose that the diarists were amongst their number: from the decades immediately after the Babylonian revolts a few eclipse observations and Diary entries survive—not many, but enough to show that at least some observers and reporters continued their work. Amongst them were one [Bēl?]-uṣuršu, son of Nabû-uballissu, whose name appears on the colophon of adart i No. -372A (Artaxerxes ii 32); and Uballissu-Bēl, son of Bēl-apla-[iddin], scribe of adart i No. -361 (Artaxerxes ii 43). Unfortunately, as Beaulieu notes, it is currently impossible to identify either of these names in the contemporary archival record of Esagila.66 What of the professional consumers of the diarists’ data? Now that cuneiform scholarship could no longer count on royal patronage, scholarly communities had to intensify their focus on private clientele in order to survive. We have two good sets of evidence for how this worked out in practice, from the southern cities of Nippur and Uruk. In Uruk, as I have argued elsewhere, the goddess Ištar’s temple Eanna was already in direct confrontation with the Persian crown in 520 bce, and seems to have been decommissioned even before the revolts against Xerxes in 484 bce.67 At that point, as Karlheinz Kessler has shown, the northern Babylonian families of Uruk—presumably those with long-standing ties to the former Neo-Babylonian dynasty—vanish from the historical record.68 Over the course of the fifth century bce the surviving southern elites in Uruk slowly regrouped around the god Anu’s temple Reš. Claus Ambos has recently argued that this building had existed in physical form since at least the early seventh century bce but the community conceptualised its origins much deeper in the ancient past.69 66 67 68 69

Beaulieu (2006: 19); and see note 2 above. Oelsner (2000: 804–805) speculates that the two men might have been members of the Mušēzib family, discussed further in Section 4 below. Robson (2017: 465). Kessler (2004). Ambos (forthcoming).

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In the later fifth century bce, the legal documents and scholarly tablets of the Šangu-Ninurta family of āšipus show no signs of institutional affiliation, although their forebears had been closely associated with Eanna.70 About 160 scholarly tablets can be assigned to these men, whether by names in colophons or through archaeological stratigraphy of the family house in which they were found. The majority are clearly related to the healing profession: therapeutic recipes and instructions, incantations and rituals, omens and omen commentaries. However, at least three record compilations of long-ago Diary-like observations of lunar eclipses and/or planetary positions, spanning the reigns of Nebuchadnezzar ii to Artaxerxes i (ca. 604–461 bce).71 As John Steele has argued, these observations were most likely made in Babylon; more speculatively, we could posit that all but the latest had arrived in Uruk via the Eanna temple, with which the Šangu-Ninurta family had formerly been associated, when the connections to northern Babylonian temple culture were still strong. The family also owned instructions for identifying the cause of an eclipse, and maybe a monthly calendar of the constellations that rise at sunset at midmonth.72 But what they did with this material, and how, if at all, it related to their work as āšipus, it is currently impossible to say. Meanwhile, the city of Nippur, roughly equidistant between Babylon and Uruk but relatively cut off from the political mainstream,73 had not taken part in the revolts against Darius and Xerxes and was not, therefore, a victim of royal reprisals. The city’s institutions and elites remained intact, centred on the temples of Enlil, Ninurta and their dependent sanctuaries, just as they had been for centuries.74 The long-standing prebendary system continued to provide income and status for men such as the descendants of Absummu (a Sumerian name), studied by Francis Joannès in the early 1990s.75 Joannès identified over sixty tablets relating to two generations of this family, in museum collections acquired by purchase from the antiquities market in the early 20th century.76 This reconstructed archive documents the activities of one (Ellil-)Bēlšunu, son 70

Robson (2017: 468); for their tablets see conveniently Robson et al. 2007–2012 sv. Āšipus’ house. 71 Securely attributable on stratigraphic grounds: Hunger (1976): no. 100; von Weiher (1998): nos. 266, 268; unstratified but similar in style and content: von Weiher (1993) nos. 169, 171; (1998): no. 267 (Steele 2016: 93). 72 Hunger (1976) nos. 95 (constellation calendar) and 97 (fragment); von Weiher (1993) no. 161 (eclipse instructions). 73 Jursa (2010a: 405). 74 Beaulieu (1995). 75 Joannès (1992). 76 See http://oracc.org/cams/absumu for a convenient online edition of these tablets.

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of (Ninurta-)Nāṣir, and his sons Ninurta-aḫḫē-bulliṭ and Zēr-kitti-lēšir over a fifty-year period, ca. 414–364 bce. Some forty letters, legal documents and administrative records show the father, and especially the first son, managing the temple’s flocks and receiving dates and silver for the performance of their brewing duties. Here they are known only by their given names and patronyms. Almost thirty scholarly and medical tablets can also be associated with the same family, via close physical similarity, adjacency in museum collections, and names on colophons. Most are ad hoc therapeutic recipes, incantations, and ingredient lists written on small tablets, along with one of Babylonia’s oldest extant birth horoscopes, dated 410 bce.77 More formally copied works, on larger tablets, include Diary-like planetary observations for 363–362 bce, a hymn to Ninurta, lexical lists, and scholarly commentaries. Both generations of the family were thus consumers of Diary-like data. The men’s scholarly titles are particularly revealing. In an undated colophon of a standard commentary to the therapeutic omen series Sakikkû “Symptoms”, Ellil-bēlšunu identifies himself as “[junior?] āšipu-healer, son of Nāṣir, prebendary brewer (sīrāšû) of Enlil, descendant of Absummu the Sumerian”.78 In 365 bce his son Zēr-kitti-lēšir signed a copied list of Nippur deities receiving offerings in merdētu-ceremonies as, “son of Bēlšunu, junior scribe, descendant of Absummu the Sumerian”.79 Two decades earlier, in 384 bce, an administrative document records Zēr-kitti-lēšir as one of six ṭupšarrū ša Ekur, “scribes of the Ekur temple’” receiving barley from the temple storehouse.80 Like their counterparts in Uruk’s Eanna, the ṭupšarrū ša Ekur were senior officials directly supporting the work of the top-level temple administration, far more than merely amanuenses and secretaries. In short then, this glimpse into a family archive reveals men with prebendary ties to the temple, though brewing and bureaucracy. When engaged in scholarly activity, including novel client services such as horoscope-casting, they could also take professional titles such as āšipu and ṭupšarru, but they did not use these terms when on temple business, whether because they were irrelevant or inappropriate. Either way, this adds further support to the argument first made above, in relation to Uruk’s Eanna temple, that scholarly titles were not used in every circumstance. It is likely that in many times and places most scholars also had other roles and responsibilities, in the performance of which they put their scholarly titles aside. It also 77 78 79 80

List in Joannès (1992: 97–100); also Foster (2005: 707–708); adart v No. 63; Maul (1994: 374–377); Rochberg (1998): no. 1. AO 17661 rev. 24–25 (George 1991: 152). AO 17662 rev. 13–14 (Nougayrol 1947: 38). flp 1480 (Stolper 1988: 150); see Jursa (2005) on the identity of these two figures.

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s­ uggests that consumers of Diary-like materials came from all walks of scholarly life, especially as zodiacal concepts became ever more integrated into personal healing in the later first millennium bce. 4

The Hellenistic and Early Parthian Period, 330–ca. 50 bce

Although Alexander’s biographers suggest that the Macedonian king was intrigued by his encounters with local scholarship during his Babylonian sojourns of 331 and 323 bce, those same writers hint that other members of his entourage felt disdain (and threat?) at such interactions.81 In any case, by the beginning of the third century bce Alexander’s erstwhile general Seleucus I Nicator had founded a new regional capital at nearby Seleucia-on-the-Tigris and was consolidating his eponymous new dynasty around Antioch-on-theOrontes, almost 1000 km to the northeast of Babylon. His son and successor Antiochus I Soter attempted to keep Babylonia in the political mainstream, but in the long term the region was consigned to relative political obscurity.82 While the Seleucid state remained closely involved in city administration, royal engagement with traditional religious and cultural life was limited to the occasional pageant of a sacrifice at the gates of Esagila and sporadic participation in the akītu-festival at new year. In the absence of close supervision the temples gained a great deal of local autonomy and power at the expense of influence at imperial level, at least until institutions of Greek origin came to dominate political life in Babylon and perhaps Uruk in the period 180–160 bce.83 Darius iii had already restored the post of šatammu as head of Marduk’s Esagila temple in ca. 360 bce, while the guild-like kiništus continued to manage the priesthoods’ collective interests.84 Alexander’s promise to fund the restoration of the ziggurat destroyed by Xerxes was never fully realised, however, nor did Antiochus i make good on his intentions to renovate the temple itself.85 Clancier and Monerie suggest that the functioning parts of Esagila were now reduced to the southern area known as the Juniper Garden. This was likely the site of extensive informal digs in the late 19th century that yielded many of the

81 82 83 84 85

Van der Spek (2003). Boiy (2004: 137); Pirngruber (2017: 38). Sciandra (2012); Clancier and Monerie (2014); Clancier (2017). Hackl (2013: 295). George (2010); Clancier and Monerie (2014: 195–196, n. 48).

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thousands of cuneiform tablets, now mostly in the British Museum, that document the final centuries of the temple’s activities.86 As is well known, this corpus is dominated by the overwhelming bulk of the Diary manuscripts, plus many other genres that are generally assumed to be the work of ṭupšarrū Enūma Anu Enlil, in observational, predictive and mathematical astronomy.87 The complex calculations of the latter discipline, used to predict the positions of the moon, sun, and five visible planets, were developed in the late fourth and early third centuries bce, apparently in Babylon.88 Although the origins of these methods are still far from clear, it is reasonable to suppose that they were inspired, at least in part, by the analysis of periodicities in observational Diary data. Very few manuscripts are attributable to individual scribes, however, as the scholars of Hellenistic Babylon did not routinely append colophons to their work. Several generations of the Mušēzib family comprise a notable exception.89 For instance, adart i No. -321 is annotated: “From(?) […] Bēl-apla-iddin, son of Mušallim-Bēl, descendant of Mušēzib, which he wrote for his good health, which was copied from the property of […].” But, as Joachim Oelsner has already noted, this colophon tells us only that Bēl-apla-iddin copied the manuscript from someone else, sometime after Philip iii Arrhidaeus’ second regnal year; it says nothing at all about the identity of the diarist himself.90 A man of this same name, Bēl-apla-iddin son of Mušallim-Bēl, descendant of Mušēzib, also appears as owner of two tablets of mathematical astronomy, containing instructions for calculating the positions of Venus and Mercury respectively.91 Again, as previous editors have noticed, in both cases there are clear indications that these are copies, not original compositions: one passage of the former is marked as ḫepi eššu, “newly broken”, while the latter is described as a giṭṭu-tablet, a format often associated with the final phases of scribal training in this late period.92 86

87 88 89 90

91 92

Clancier and Monerie (2014: 196–197, n. 49). Unfortunately, as the crude methods of extraction used rendered the area unworkable for later archaeological exploration, it is highly unlikely that it will ever be possible to confirm this hypothesis beyond doubt. As Steele (2016: 84–85) notes, however, documented findspots from formal excavations in Babylon include other temples and residential buildings. Boiy (2004: 27–36); Brown (2008). Steele (2016: 104–109). Oelsner (2000: 802–811); Robson (2008: 221–225). See previous footnote. Oelsner (2000: 804–805) and I (Robson 2008: 223 no. 4) both assume that adart i No. -324A (“From […]-Bēl, son of Mušallim-Bēl […]”) was also copied by a member of the Mušēzib family, on the basis of the shared patronym, but this intuition is far from conclusive. Ossendrijver (2012): nos. 5, 9. See conveniently Stevens (2013: 220, n. 52).

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So, even if Bēl-apla-iddin was not (yet) himself a diarist, he was apparently learning how to record ­celestial observations and perform predictive calculations. And, if Oelsner’s reconstruction of the Mušēzib family tree is correct, he was followed in these interests by his son Marduk-šāpik-zēri, who in turn taught his own son Iddin-Bēl.93 But we do not know how any of these men selfidentified as scholars or priests, as they recorded no professional title of any kind. Iddin-Bēl once invokes Bēl and Bēltīya, “My lord and lady”, i.e., Marduk and his spouse Zarpānītu, while his own apprentice, Nergal-ina-tēšê-ēṭir, calls upon [Nabû] and his spouse Tašmētu in a colophon to Enūma Anu Enlil Tablet 24.94 I have argued elsewhere that these are expressions of personal devotion, closely allied to scholarly apprenticeship, rather than signifiers of formal temple affiliation.95 Meanwhile in Uruk, the Reš temple had established a fully functional prebendary system by the late fourth century and continued to operate on the traditional model, excepting the absence of royal patronage and benefaction, well into the second century bce. Scholarly activity appears to have petered out in the 160s bce, at more or less the same time as Uruk was refounded as a Greek polis if Clancier and Monerie’s hypothesis is correct.96 In the house formerly occupied by the late Achaemenid Šangu-Ninurta family, the descendants of Ekur-zākir now practised āšipūtu in their stead. The best attested family member, Iqīšaya son of Ištar-šum-ēreš, was an avid consumer of celestial observation data in the 320s bce, incorporating zodiacal elements into his healing practice in multiple ways.97 Unsigned copies of planetary observations, originally made in Babylon, which were found in the same archaeological stratum of the house, may well have belonged to him too.98 The Šangu-Ninurta family seem to have been engaged in a less diverse range of temple affairs than the Absummus of 93

94 95 96 97 98

Oelsner’s chronology is not entirely convincing. One of Iddin-Bēl’s astronomical tables is concluded by the statement annâ(?) ša šanat 5 Pilipsu, “this(?) is for the 5th year of Philip (iii Arrhidaeus)”, namely 319 bce, just a few years later than his putative grandfather’s date in adart i No. -321 (Neugebauer and Sachs 1968–69: 94). But this does not establish the date of the tablet itself; it could as easily have been a copy of an older original as a fresh manuscript predicting celestial events that were yet to occur. Most conveniently, Robson (2008: 224). Robson (forthcoming: Chapter 6). Clancier and Monerie (2014: 220–223). Hunger (1976): nos. 94, 96; von Weiher (1982): no. 42; (1988): nos. 104, 105 and perhaps also von Weiher (1982): no. 49, (1993): no. 167 on stratigraphic grounds. See further Robson (2011b: 568). Von Weiher (1993): no. 170; (1998): nos. 269, 270, and 271; perhaps also von Weiher (1993): no. 168: although found in a lower stratum, the observations it records postdate the Šangu-Ninurta family’s tablets by several decades. See also Steele (2016: 93).

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Nippur, but Iqīšaya called himself “an āšipu of Uruk, a temple-enterer of Anu and Antu”, thus clearly distinguishing between his civic scholarly calling and his prebendary duties at Reš.99 Within a century, however, Iqīšaya’s scholarly profession had been incorporated into the prebendary system of Reš alongside kalûtu.100 As is well known, Iqīšaya’s descendants in the Ekur-zākir family dominated the profession of āšipūtu in Hellenistic Uruk, while the descendants of Sîn-lēqi-unninni consolidated their Achaemenid hold on kalûtu (Section 2 above). About 300 of these men’s scholarly tablets are known. Only about a third have secure archaeological provenance, but there is good reason to believe they had all been archived in the Reš temple.101 Some were discovered in clandestine digs in the early twentieth century; the remainder were excavated from previously looted rooms in 1959–60. Almost half are astrological or astronomical in content; a third have surviving colophons recording crucial information about their owners, scribes and circumstances of production. As I have shown elsewhere, in the period ca. 220–180 bce three men of the Sîn-lēqi-unninni family and three descendants of Ekur-zākir used the ­self-designation ṭupšar Enūma Anu Enlil. But they began to use it only after a period of training in mathematical astronomy with another, older man who had himself earned that title.102 For instance, Šamaš-ēṭir of the Ekur-zākir family—āšipu of Anu and Antu, chief priest of the Reš temple, ṭupšar Enūma Anu Enlil—trained Anu-aba-utēr Sîn-lēqi-unninni, kalû of Anu and Antu. Anuaba-utēr in turn adopted the title ṭupšar Enūma Anu Enlil, and subsequently trained Anu-uballiṭ, another descendant of Ekur-zākir, who may have been Šamaš-ēṭir’s nephew. The title ṭupšar Enūma Anu Enlil was not restricted to use in astronomical contexts, however: Anu-aḫa-ušabši of the Ekur-zākir family, for example, who preceded his relative Šamaš-ēṭir in the post of chief priest, used it when copying sacrificial omens, vocabulary lists and—rather fittingly—a catalogue of Enūma Anu Enlil itself, but not on his only two surviving astronomical manuscripts.103 Yet none of these ṭupšarrū Enūma Anu Enlil, nor

99

Hunger (1976): no. 94; see also von Weiher (1982): no. 28, in which another Ištar-šumu-ēreš (not Iqīšaya’s father) is named as a “kalû of Anu and Antu”. 100 Corò (2005). 101 Robson et al. (2007–12) s.v. “Uruk Illicitly excavated”; “Uruk Resh temple library”; Robson (2017: 466). 102 Robson (2007, 2008: 258–260). 103 With the title ṭupšar Enūma Anu Enlil: Thureau-Dangin (1922): nos. 2, 4, 7, 15, 35; Robson et al. (2007–12) s.v. TCL 6; without: Clay (1923): no. 13; Neugebauer (1955): nos. 174, 300; Thureau-Dangin (1922): no. 3.

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any of their Uruk contemporaries, were diarists, although they did occasionally copy Diaries and Diary-like data from Babylon.104 As Lucinda Dirven and Johannes Haubold both describe elsewhere in this volume, the Parthian conquest of Babylon in 141 bce led to a tumultuous two decades of rival occupations of the city, as the Seleucids sought to wrest back control from multiple competing regional powers. It was only in the late 120s that Mithradates managed to assert full control over Babylonia. Yet the scholarly community of Babylon continued to function throughout this difficult transition—indeed, the Diaries are arguably the most vivid eye-witness accounts of the period—and into the mid-first century bce. And although all of the Parthian Diary manuscripts are anonymous, we can situate them in relation to a few hundred more contemporary scholarly texts, including about forty with colophons, and a reconstructed archive that, as currently known, comprises around fifty legal documents, letters and administrative records.105 A few of these documents have been discussed repeatedly over the past few decades but they have not, to my knowledge, been fully contextualised. One of the best-known documents concerning celestial observation in Parthian Babylon is a memorandum recording a decision of the kiništu of Esagila to transfer the duties and rewards of an absent ṭupšar Enūma Anu Enlil to his two sons in 126 bce:106 Bēl-maḫar, šatammu of Esagila, the Babylonians, (and) the kiništu of ­Esagila conferred with one another and said: “Itti-Marduk-balāṭu, temple gardener, city supervisor(?), overseer of the gods’ temples, ṭupšar Enūma Anu Enlil, son of Iddin-Bēl, who had previously attended Hyspaosines the king, […] from the supplies at the king’s gate and is still there. Bēl-aḫḫē-uṣur and Nabû-mušētiq-uddē, his sons, […] are capable of making all the celestial observations. In regard to this, he (sic) has made a claim in front of this Bēl-maḫar and the Babylonians, the kiništu of Esagila, that from this day, every year, we should give 2 minas of silver, that were the kurummatu-rations of Itti-Marduk-balāṭu, their father, to ­Bēl-aḫḫē-uṣur and Nabû-mušētiq-uddē from our supplies. 104 Steele (2016: 93, 95–100). 105 See http://oracc.org/cams/parbab for an evolving catalogue and edition of the texts on which I have based this analysis. Hackl (2017) gives an up-to-date discussion of the closely associated Raḫim-Esu archive. 106 BOR 4 132 (Pinches 1896) is no apparently no longer extant. The best previous treatment is still van der Spek (1985: 459–451). My preliminary edition, on which this translation is based, is at http://oracc.org/cams/parbab/X800003/.

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In exchange, (they will do) everything that Itti-Marduk-balāṭu, their father, offered. They will make celestial observations and they will give ephemerides tables for every year, along with Bēlšunu, Lābaši, Murānu, Iddin-Bēl, Bēl-uṣuršu, the ṭupšarrū Enūma Anu Enlil, and (any) other ṭupšarrū Enūma Anu Enlil.” As others have previously discussed, this memo demonstrates that the temple collective required their ṭupšarrū Enūma Anu Enlil both to make Diary-like observations (naṣār naṣāri) and to calculate astronomical tables (tērsêtu).107 Roles were inherited in the family, but only on practical demonstration of competence, and the holders earned a fixed annual kurummatu-ration rather than the prebendary rights of pre-Xerxian times. The ṭupšarrū Enūma Anu Enlil functioned as a team of about half a dozen, presumably working shifts to ensure that there was always someone on watch. What has been less remarked upon is that the absent Itti-Marduk-balāṭu was serving at the court of Hyspaosines, king of the marshland kingdom of Characene and briefly also ruler of Babylon.108 Sadly the document does not tell us whether the king had summoned him, the temple had sent him, or he had gone on his own initiative, speculatively seeking patronage. Nor can we infer whether many or all late second-century claimants to the Babylonian throne, Seleucids, Parthians, or Elamites, counted a ṭupšar Enūma Anu Enlil amongst their entourage, or whether Hyspaosines was cultivating a distinctively traditionalist image in order to gain favour amongst the cuneiform-literate intelligentsia. In a very similar document, written about a decade later, the son of a deceased ṭupšar Enūma Anu Enlil ousts a temporary replacement by performing in front of the kiništu, again demonstrating that family ties trump experience.109 The team that the young Bēl-uṣuršu joined still included Lābaši and Murānu, “sons of Bēl-bullissu”, we learn, who had been joined in the ­meantime by their brother Marduk-šāpik-zēri; as well as the two earlier claimants, B ­ ēl-aḫḫē-uṣur

107 Still the most useful discussions of the technical terminology are by Rochberg (2000: 370– 371; 2004: 234–236); cf. footnote 9 above. 108 Clancier (2007: 34–35) gives an optimistically maximalist interpretation of this document, as evidence that the Neo-Assyrian court culture of scholarship in which “tous les érudits intervenant dans la protection spirituelle du monarque” is “encore attestée” in the Parthian period. Stolper’s (2007: 231–232, 245) interest, by contrast, is in the meaning of the Old Persian title uppudētu, here translated “overseer”. 109 Kennedy (1968): no. 144 (van der Spek 1985: 551–552; Rochberg 2000: 373–375; 2004: 234– 235); http://oracc.org/cams/parbab/P481975/. On the šatammu’s seal, see most recently Wallenfels (2017).

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and Nabu-mušētiq-uddē, “sons of Itti-Marduk-balāṭu”.110 Bēlšunu, Iddin-Bēl and (a different) Bēl-uṣuršu had moved on or died; hence the need, in both cases, to foresee the possibility of newcomers working with “(any) other ṭupšarrū Enūma Anu Enlil” and not just the current incumbents of the post. At roughly the same time, in 115 bce, Murānu wrote to Bēl-aḫḫē-uṣur, using both men’s patronyms, about uncollected kurummatu-rations, sealing the letter with the šatammu’s seal to show that it concerned official temple business.111 Here Murānu describes himself as ṭupšar Enūma Anu Enlil, but instead acknowledges Bēl-aḫḫē-uṣur as prostatēs-official of the previous year, strongly implying that this latter office carried greater weight. Recall too that in the first document quoted above, Itti-Marduk-balāṭu is given three different cultic and civic titles before being named as ṭupšar Enūma Anu Enlil. Similarly, the ousted scholar in the second document is described as a kalû-priest first, ṭupšar Enūma Anu Enlil second. As in Seleucid Uruk, then, this was a secondary role, a title invoked only in relation to the performance of its duties and (as in Murānu’s letter) distribution of its rewards. We should not expect to find it used in other contexts. These dozen or so men, then, from just three family groups, were almost certainly the very same individuals who wrote the dozens of extant, anonymous Diaries from the late second century bce.112 But we can also situate them in a wider socio-intellectual context thanks to the colophons on two contemporary astronomical tables. As van der Spek already noticed thirty years ago, a Marduk-šāpik-zēri, ṭupšar Enūma Anu Enlil, son of Bēl-bullissu is mentioned as the source of two tablets copied by men of the Egibatila family, one of which is dated precisely to 103 bce.113 At this same time, and up to a decade later, a small handful of Egibatila men were also copying literary works, commentaries on omens, and bilingual liturgical laments, often in close collaboration with the descendants of Nanna-utu.114 The Nanna-utu men in turn focused heavily on liturgy, along with a little mathematical astronomy. Two members of this family describe themselves as “junior kalû-priest of Marduk”, one in the

110 Marduk-šāpik-zēri’s successful bid to join his brothers is documented in the fragmentary Kennedy (1968): no. 185 (van der Spek 1985: 552–553); http://oracc.org/cams/parbab/ P482017/, where we learn that Bēlšunu was also one of their brothers. 111 AB 247 (McEwan 1981: 139; van der Spek 1985: 553–554); http://oracc.org/cams/parbab/ X800007/. 112 For the family trees, see van der Spek (1985: 549). 113 Van der Spek (1985: 549). Neugebauer (1955): nos. 122 (Zo), 420+821b (Zld); Ossendrijver (2012: 294). 114 See note 102 above and Robson (2018) with further bibliography.

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mid-130s bce and the other in the mid-80s bce.115 We have already seen a kalû brought in—and ousted again—to replace Bēl-ab-uṣur as ṭupšar Enūma Anu Enlil; might he too have been a descendant of Nannu-utu?116 As others have noted, members of the Mušēzib family also wrote mathematical astronomy and literature at around this time.117 Although they cannot as yet be linked unequivocally into this scholarly network, they cannot have been complete strangers to it either, given their common interests. For, as Lucinda Dirven has shown, in Parthian Babylonia the cultic traditionalists were a dwindling minority in an increasingly pluralistic society.118 It is hard to imagine that this community of highly literate cuneiformists, dedicated to the cult of Marduk, ever comprised more than a handful of Parthian Babylon’s estimated 20,000 inhabitants.119 And, by the mid-first century bce, just a decade after the latest known Diary, it had vanished entirely. 5 Conclusions The investigations undertaken here have largely confirmed some historians’ earlier intuitions about the diarists but have also added local nuance, and social change, to the picture.120 The key long-term continuity lies in the fact that expert celestial reporters were predominantly associated with large urban temples, either as holders of part-time prebendary priesthoods or, in ­post-Xerxian Babylon, as recipients of kurummatu-rations.121 If these temple affiliations did not occupy much of their working lives, then supplementary reporting duties took up even less. Many of the individuals we have looked at took on many concurrent, context-dependent professional identities. We have also seen that there was no simple relationship between textual mastery,

115 Marduk-zēra-ibni son of Ea-balāssu-iqbi: Reisner (1896): no. 5 (137 bce), Spar and Lambert (2005): no. 2 (134 bce); (a different) Ea-balāssu-iqbi son of Bēl-apla-iddina: Reisner (1896): nos. 27, 28, 36, and 55 (87–86 bce); all balaggu-laments. 116 Van der Spek (1985: 549) suggests instead that he was of the Mušēzib family, as were IttiMarduk-balāṭu and sons. However, given the number of personal names common to all three of the Egibatila, Mušēzib, and Nanna-utu lineages, I prefer to reserve judgement here. 117 E.g. van der Spek (1985): 458; Oelsner (2000). 118 Dirven (2014). 119 On the likely population of Parthian Babylon see Hauser (1999: 228). 120 E.g. van der Spek (1985, 2008: 284–287); Rochberg (2004); Beaulieu (2000, 2006). 121 Contra Slotsky’s assertion that “it may be excessive to speak of any of these astronomerscribes as priests” (Slotsky 1998: 103).

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practical competences, and use of the title ṭupšar Enūma Anu Enlil. Let us summarise the findings. In the seventh century bce, almost none of the Assyrian king’s reporters used the title themselves, even though they quoted the omen series Enūma Anu Enlil in every report they wrote; certainly, familiarity with the series’ contents was not sufficient for others to label one as such a scholar. In the Babylonian long sixth century, when the Diaries established themselves as a stable textual genre, both reporters and ṭupšarrū Enūma Anu Enlil are frustratingly absent from the historical record. We can, however, infer their influence at the Neo-Babylonian court from the lengths to which the usurper king Nabonidus went to undermine their authority. Shortly after, at the Eanna temple in Uruk, we see prebendary kalû-priests taking responsibility for the (mis)prediction of celestial events. It is only in the fourth century bce that the ṭupšarrū Enūma Anu Enlil are first explicitly attested as kurummatu-recipients at Esagila, Marduk’s temple in Babylon, but we have no indication of their practical duties. In the late fourth century, members of the Mušēzib family first appear in the colophons of Diaries and, a little later again, as users and producers of mathematical astronomy and other scholarly genres, but we do not know what, if any, scholarly or priestly titles they took. A century afterwards, in Seleucid Uruk, a few prebendary āšipus and kalûs of the Reš temple, descendants of Ekur-zākir and Sin-lēqi-unninni respectively, took the secondary title of ṭupšar Enūma Anu Enlil after textual apprenticeship with a master of mathematical astronomy; but they did not undertake Diary-like activities. Finally, in late second century Babylon, members of three unidentified families collectively took responsibility for Recording and celestial prediction, as kurummatu-recipients of Esagila. The team of ṭupšarrū Enūma Anu Enlil was now half the size that it had been in the fourth century bce, but probably still included descendants of Mušēzib as well as, perhaps, Egibatila and Nanna-utu. It appears that the young men undertook a similar textual training to their Uruk counterparts of the third century bce, but they also had to demonstrate practical competence before their peers. Links to known copyists of Diary manuscripts are, once again, suggestive but not conclusive. In short, the circumstantial evidence that identifies the diarists as ṭupšarrū Enūma Anu Enlil of Marduk’s temple in Babylon becomes more persuasive as (ancient) time goes on. Yet we should be wary of retrojecting this relationship too far into the past. It certainly does not go back as far as the seventh ­century bce, when the title was still a novelty and the Diary was not yet conceptualised. One might be tempted to identify the Neo-Babylonian “golden age” of the early sixth century as a possible starting point. Yet we should not discount the massive political, social and intellectual upheavals of ca. 650–610 bce and ca.

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520–470 bce, brought about respectively by the collapse of the Assyrian empire and the Achaemenid reprisals against northern Babylonian revolts. These periods were so fundamentally catastrophic for the health of cuneiform intellectual culture that I have elsewhere described them as “survival bottlenecks”.122 Over the course of the fifth and fourth centuries bce, the temple communities of both Uruk and Babylon had to completely reinvent themselves and their relationships to the divine world, to (mostly absent) royal patronage, and to the increasingly diverse urban populations from whom they sought individual clients. In these uncertain times it became ever more important to construct and project an image of age-old constancy and conservatism, based on a nostalgic view of a past in which real kings truly valued—and s­ upported—cuneiform scholarship. While much clearly did remain the same, it is increasingly apparent that just as much radically changed. We should thus be wary of allowing the invented traditions of the last centuries of cuneiform culture to overly influence our interpretations of what had gone before. Yet even if we are no closer to knowing the diarists by name, we now have a much clearer idea of their likely collective identity. References Ambos, C., forthcoming, “The History of the Cult of the Sky-god Anu in Uruk: Philological and Archaeological Evidence”, in P. Cotticelli and V. Sadovski (eds), The Ritual Sphere and Royal Ideology in the Ancient Middle East. Baker, H.D., 2008, “Babylon in 484 BC: The Excavated Archival tablets as a Source for Urban History”, Zeitschrift für Assyriologie 98, 100–116. Beaulieu, P.-A., 1991, “Neo-Babylonian Larsa: A Preliminary Study”, Orientalia 60, 58–81. Beaulieu, P.-A., 1993. “Prebendiers d’Uruk à Larsa”, Revue d’Assyriologie 87, 137–152. Beaulieu, P.-A., 1989, The Reign of Nabonidus, King of Babylon 556–539 BC (New Haven and London: Yale University Press). Beaulieu, P.-A., 1995, “The Brewers of Nippur”, Journal of Cuneiform Studies 47, 85–94. Beaulieu, P.-A., 2000, “The Descendants of Sîn-lēqi-unninni”, in J. Marzahn and H. Neumann (eds), Assyriologica et Semitica. Festschrift für Joachim Oelsner (Münster: Ugarit-Verlag), 1–16. Beaulieu, P.-A., 2006, “The Astronomers of the Esagil Temple in the Fourth century BC”, in A.K. Guinan et al. (eds), If a Man Builds a Joyful House: Assyriological Studies in Honor of Erle Verdun Leichty (Leiden: Brill), 5–22. 122 Robson (2018).

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Robson, E., 2008, Mathematics in Ancient Iraq: A Social History (Princeton and Oxford: Princeton University Press). Robson, E., 2011a, “Empirical Scholarship in the Neo-Assyrian Court”, in G. Selz and K. Wagensonner (eds), The Empirical Dimension of Ancient Near Eastern Studies (­Vienna: LIT), 603–630. Robson, E., 2011b, “The Production and Dissemination of Scholarly Knowledge”, in K. Radner and E. Robson (eds), The Oxford Handbook of Cuneiform Culture (Oxford: Oxford University Press), 557–576. Robson, E., 2014, “Tracing Networks of Cuneiform Scholarship with Oracc, GKAB and Google Earth”, in M. Rutz and M. Kersel (eds), Archaeologies of Text: Archaeology, Technology and Ethics. Joukowsky Institute Publications, 4 (Oxford: Oxbow Books), 142–163. Robson, E., 2017, “The Socio-economics of Cuneiform Scholarship after the ‘End of Archives’: Views from Borsippa and Uruk”, in Y. Heffron, A. Stone and M. Worthington (eds), At the Dawn of History: Ancient Near Eastern Studies in Honour of J.N. Postgate (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns), 455–470. Robson, E., 2018, “‘Do Not Disperse the Collection!’ Motivations and Strategies for Protecting Cuneiform Scholarship in the First Millennium BC”, in M. Popović, L. Roig Lanzillotta and C. Wilde (eds), Sharing and Hiding Religious Knowledge in Early Judaism, Christianity, and Islam (Berlin and Boston: De Gruyter), 8–45. Robson, E., forthcoming, Ancient Knowledge Networks: Social Geographies of Cuneiform Scholarship (London: University College Press). Robson, E., M.-F. Besnier, P. Clancier, G. Cunningham, F. Reynolds, S. Tinney and G. Van Buylaere, 2007–12, The Corpus of Ancient Mesopotamian Scholarship: The Geography of Knowledge in Assyria and Babylonia, http://oracc.org/cams/gkab/corpus [accessed 1 December 2016]. Rochberg, F., 1998, Babylonian Horoscopes (Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society). Rochberg, F., 2000, “Scribes and Scholars: the ṭupšar Enūma Anu Enlil”, in J. Marzahn and H. Neumann (eds), Assyriologica et Semitica: Festschrift für Joachim Oelsner, ­Alter Orient und Altes Testament, 252 (Münster: Ugarit-Verlag), 359–376. Rochberg, F., 2004, The Heavenly Writing: Divination, Horoscopy, and Astronomy in Mesopotamian Culture (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press). Schaudig, H., 2001, Die Inschriften Nabonids von Babylon und Kyros’ des Großen (Münster: Ugarit-Verlag). Sciandra, R., 2012, “The Babylonian Correspondence of the Seleucid and Arsacid Dynasties: New Insights into the Relations between Court and City during the Late Babylonian Period”, in G. Wilhelm (ed.), Organization, Representation and Symbols of Power in the Ancient Near East (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns), 225–248.

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Slotsky, A., 1998, The Bourse of Babylon: Market Quotations in the Astronomical Diaries of Babylonia (Bethesda, MD: CDL Press). Spar, I. and W.G. Lambert (eds), 2005, Literary and Scholastic Texts of the First Millennium BC. Cuneiform Texts in the Metropolitan Museum of Art 2 (New York: The Metropolitan Museum of Art). van der Spek, R.J., 1985, “The Babylonian Temple during the Macedonian and Parthian Domination”, Bibliotheca Orientalis 42, 541–562. van der Spek, R.J., 2003, “Darius III, Alexander the Great and Babylonian Scholarship”, in W. Henkelman and A. Kuhrt (eds), A Persian Perspective: Essays in Memory of Heleen Sancisi-Weerdenburg (Leiden: Nederlands Instituut voor het Nabije Oosten), 289–346. van der Spek, R.J., 2008, “Berossus as a Babylonian Chronicler and Greek Historian”, in R.J. van der Spek et al. (eds.), Studies in Ancient Near Eastern World View and Society (Bethesda, MD: CDL Press), 277–318. Steele, J.M., 2000, “Eclipse Prediction in Mesopotamia”, Archive for the History of Exact Sciences 54, 421–454. Steele, J.M., 2016, “The Circulation of Astronomical Knowledge between Babylon and Uruk”, in J.M. Steele (ed.), The Circulation of Astronomical Knowledge in the Ancient World (Leiden: Brill), 83–118. Stevens, K., 2013, “Secrets in the Library: Protected Knowledge and Professional Identity in Late Babylonian Uruk”, Iraq 75: 211–253. Stolper, M., 1988, “The šaknu of Nippur”, Journal of Cuneiform Studies 40, 127–155. Stolper, M., 2007, “Iranica in Post-Achaemenid Babylonian Texts”, in P. Briant and F. Joannès (eds), La transition entre l’empire achéménide et les royaumes hellénistiques, vers 350–300 av. J.-C., Persika, 9 (Paris: De Boccard), 223–260. Thureau-Dangin, F., 1922, Tablettes d’Uruk à l’usage des prêtres du temple d’Anu au temps des Séleucides, Textes Cunéiformes du Louvre, 6 (Paris: Geuthner). Van Buylaere, G., 2010, “The Role of the ḫazannu in the Neo-Assyrian Empire”, in L. Kogan et al. (eds), Proceedings of the 53e Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale, Vol. 2: City Administration in the Ancient Near East, Babel und Bibel, 5 (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns), 229–246. Villard, P., 1998, “Akkullānu, astrologue, prêtre et juge”, NABU 1998/52. von Weiher, E., 1982, Spätbabylonische Texte aus Uruk, vol. 2 (Berlin: Mann). von Weiher, E., 1988, Spätbabylonische Texte aus Uruk, vol. 3 (Berlin: Mann). von Weiher, E., 1993. Spätbabylonische Texte aus Uruk, vol. 4 (Mainz: von Zabern). von Weiher, E., 1998, Spätbabylonische Texte aus Uruk, vol. 5 (Mainz: von Zabern). Waerzeggers, C., 2003/04, “The Babylonian Revolts against Xerxes and the ‘End of Archives’”, Archiv für Orientforschung 50, 150–173. Waerzeggers, C., 2011, “The Babylonian Priesthood in the Long Sixth Century BC”, Bulletin of the Institute of Classical Studies 54, 59–70.

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Wallenfels, R., 2017, “The Office Seal of the Šatammu of E-sangil during the Hellenistic Period: A Résumé”, NABU 2017/21. Wee, J.Z., 2016, “Virtual Moons over Babylonia: The Calendar Text System, its MicroZodiac of 13, and the Making of Medical Zodiology”, in J.M. Steele (ed.), The Circulation of Astronomical Knowledge in the Ancient World (Leiden: Brill), 139–229. Westbrook, R., 2005, “Patronage in the Ancient Near East”, Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient 48, 210–233. Wiseman, D.J. and J.A. Black, 1996, Literary Texts from the Temple of Nabû, Cuneiform Texts from Nimrud, 4 (London: British School of Archaeology in Iraq).

Chapter 5

The Astronomical Diaries and Religion in Seleucid and Parthian Babylon: the Case of the Prophet of Nanāya Lucinda Dirven 1 Introduction The historical sections of the Astronomical Diaries provide abundant informa­ tion on the traditional temples in Babylon during the Seleucid and Parthian periods. The diaries are written by scholars who probably fulfilled religious offices in these temples as well, and hence present us with an informed eye­ witness account of the religious situation at the time.1 So far, surprisingly little use has been made of this material in reconstructing the religious situation in Seleucid and Parthian Babylon. In fact, the period of Seleucid and Arsacid rule over Mesopotamia is one of the least known and studied periods in Meso­ potamian religious history.2 The present article uses an extraordinary account about a messenger of the goddess Nanāya that is known from the Diaries in a longer and a shorter version to shed new light on this little studied and badly understood period in Babylon’s religious history. It offers a narrative about an anonymous man who in 133 bce presented himself as “a messenger of the 1 *My gratitude goes to Johannes Haubold and Kathryn Stevens for inviting me to Durham and for convincing me to attend a conference on a subject that was way out of my comfort zone. I thank Bert van der Spek for the stimulating valedictory lecture that was the inspiration for my paper and his comments on a first and last draft of this article. Karel van der Toorn also provided me with useful feedback on earlier versions. Last but not least, I am very grateful to Eleanor Robson for her comments on this article and for her efforts to improve the reading and translation of the texts that are the subject of this article; see especially the Appendix to the chapter. We may distinguish various scholarly professions in Mesopotamia, of which the tupšar Enūma Anu Enlil or astrologer was one. On the social background of these scribes and their professional relationship with the temple, see the contribution of Eleanor Robson in this volume. These scholars also draw income from prebends, in return for a few days of ritual duty each year. On the principles of Babylonian prebendary priesthood, see Waerzeggers (2011b). 2 Dirven (2014). The main reason for this is that the period is too late for most Assyriologists, who consider religion in this period atypical for Mesopotamia, and too exotic for most Hel­ lenistic historians.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���9 | doi:10.1163/9789004397767_007

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g­ oddess Nanāya”, obtained many followers among the inhabitants of Babylon and Borsippa, and came into conflict with the temple authorities. It will be argued that the incident illustrates the religious diversity that is typical of this period and bears testimony to the loss of religious authority by the traditional temples and their personnel. Traditionally, discussions of ancient Mesopotamian religion start some­ where just before the beginning of the third millennium and end with the conquest of Babylon by Cyrus of Persia.3 Over this long time-span, Mesopo­ tamian religion changed to some extent due to political circumstances, but on the whole it remained fundamentally the same. Crucial for this degree of religious continuity were the temples. Their main purpose was and always ­remained the care and provisioning of the gods: the gods were held to be pres­ ent in their symbol or anthropomorphic image and were looked after by the priests and other officials working in the sanctuary. These temples were not ­accessible to the common people; only during certain festivals when the imag­ es were brought out of their dwelling and were paraded in processions through the streets did the people see their gods. Temples were not only religious in­ stitutions; they were also important administrative hubs that fulfilled various secular functions.4 As a result, temples had huge social significance and their personnel held powerful positions in society. Last but not least, they were in­ timately connected with the use of the cuneiform script and were centres of great learning. Temple and palace were mutually dependent, economically as well as ideologically, at least until the end of the Neo-Babylonian period.5 The demise of this millennia-old religious institution is now generally thought to have started after 539 bce, when the Achaemenids conquered Mes­ opotamia and the region was for the first time ruled by a foreign power that did not assimilate to Babylonian culture and traditions.6 At some point during the Parthian period, the last still functioning ancient temples were abandoned and concomitantly cuneiform disappeared forever.7 In view of what has been said above about the importance of the temples for Mesopotamian society at large, this may rightfully be called a landslide in the cultural and social landscape of

3 Oppenheim (1964: 171–227) and Bottéro (2001) are still standard works on religion in Mesopo­ tamia. For a lucid more recent discussion with very useful references for further reading, see Foster (2007). 4 Charpin (2011). 5 On the ideological basis of the interaction of temple and palace, see Waerzeggers (2011). On their economic interdependence, see Jursa (2010). 6 Clancier (2009: 297–318). 7 Geller (1997). On the disappearance of cuneiform see now also Brown (2008).

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Mesopotamia. What is still largely unclear, however, is how we should envision this process and reconstruct the underlying causes. The main difficulty in reconstructing the demise of the traditional temples is the nature of the sources available for study. By far the majority of the written sources at our disposal are cuneiform texts originating mainly from Uruk and Babylon. They may be divided into literary and scientific texts, among which are the Astronomical Diaries and the Babylonian Chronicles, and administra­ tive and juridical texts, that are also composed by the personnel of the great sanctuaries.8 The Astronomical Diaries testify to the continued participation of foreign rulers in the cults of the temples of Babylon, Cutha and Borsippa until the first century bce, whereas the liturgical texts suggest that the reli­ gious life in these temples remained much the same.9 Based on this material, historians have recently stressed the continuity and survival of Mesopotamian religious traditions far into the Common Era.10 It ought to be noted, however, that the cuneiform sources only provide a partial and probably very skewed picture of the actual historical situation. Firstly, Greek and Aramaic documents are virtually missing from our records since they were written on perishable material such as leather and papyrus. We do know, however, that by this time Greek and Aramaic had become the main languages of official communication and administration.11 Secondly, the cuneiform texts were written by the ancient intellectual elite of what tradi­ tionally were the most important temples of Mesopotamia. Virtually all texts from this period originate from Uruk and Babylon and it is extremely doubt­ ful whether the situation in these cities may be projected onto the remain­ der of the country. In fact, the disappearance of the traditional temples was a slow and gradual process that took over 500 years to complete.12 We should reckon with local diversity in the development of ancient temples throughout Mesopotamia and there is no single overarching explanation for the dwindling 8 9 10

11 12

Oelsner (1986); McEwan (1982). For the liturgical texts see Linssen (2004). McEwan (1981), 193; Kuhrt and Sherwin-White (1987); Kuhrt and Sherwin-White (1991); Sherwin-White and Kuhrt (1993: 38–39); Van der Spek (1994); Szelény-Graziotto (1996); Oelsner (2002a) and (2002b); Linssen (2004); Boiy (2010). Over the last ten years, the con­ sensus has begun to change and now an increasing number of historians working on the last centuries of cuneiform culture are aware of significant ruptures. A watershed is Caro­ line Waerzegger’s article on the “end of archives” in 484 bce, published in 2003/04. On the intellectual consequences of her demonstration that a major shift in the cuneiform documentary practices of Babylonia took place at this time, see now Robson (2017), who elaborates upon the effects of this rupture in Borsippa and Uruk. Cf. also Stevens (2014). Rightly pointed out by Clancier and Monerie (2014: 182). Beaulieu (2013: 527).

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of these temples. Hence, we should study the development on a site by site basis and be wary about generalising the outcome of this research. The most venerable temples were probably the longest to survive and possibly incor­ porated the deities from some of the smaller sanctuaries that disappeared.13 Thirdly, the cuneiform texts were written by an intellectual community that by this time had become a small minority in an increasingly pluralistic society.14 ­Although their texts reflect a high degree of continuity and traditionalism, we should reckon with the possibility that at least some of these present us with an idealised picture of reality.15 It is only logical to assume that this pluralistic cultural and religious situation had repercussions for the authority of these institutions and eventually even led to changes in the cult as well.16 The cunei­ form sources, however, hardly touch upon such issues and suggest the temples and their personnel were still at the centre of the world. The incident of the preacher of Nanāya that is described in the Diaries is invaluable because it is one of the few sources that allows us to glimpse the various religious forces at play in Babylon in the latter half of the second cen­ tury bce. Key to understanding the meaning of this figure is the question of why the scribe chose to incorporate such an extensive account about a local religious riot into the historical section of the Diaries. I therefore start with a general discussion of the historical sections in the Astronomical Diaries and then seek to identify the selection criteria used in describing religious matters in Babylon. In this respect it is noteworthy that the historical sections contain information on local as well as national affairs. This raises the question of the relationship between Babylon, its temples, and the country as a whole. It is in this context that the incident of Nanāya’s preacher should be understood. On the basis of the text, I shall subsequently argue that this anonymous preacher may be labelled a prophet, a messenger of the goddess. In order to understand the socio-religious implications of his preaching, we can compare him to mes­ sengers of gods known from earlier ancient Near Eastern accounts, particu­ larly those from Mari and Nineveh. As it turns out, the prophet of Nanāya is of another category and his preaching may be interpreted as a sign of the times. 13 14 15 16

Dirven (2014: 206–208). On the possible centralization of traditional cults, see McEwan (1981: 189). On the question of who wrote the Diaries, see the contribution of Eleanor Robson to this volume. This seems to be the case, for example, with the liturgical texts. Cf. below, note 43. Such changes can especially be read between the lines of the historical sections of the Astronomical Diaries and the Chronicles. For example, mention is made of kings or their representatives who sacrificed “in the Greek fashion”, i.e., made offerings that were fol­ lowed by a communal meal; see Dirven (2014: 210 with note 41), for references.

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The Historical Sections of the Diaries

According to the apt definition by Hermann Hunger and David Pingree, an As­ tronomical Diary is a record of observed phenomena that are carefully chosen from the realms of the celestial, the atmospheric, and the material.17 This holds true for all five categories of data that may be distinguished in the Diaries: in addition to the historical section at the end, there is a section that describes various celestial observations, one that lists the prices of six basic commodi­ ties in Babylon, one that gives the position of the planets in zodiacal signs, and one that charts fluctuations in the water level of the river Euphrates. The ­corpus consists of hundreds of tablets dating from ca. 650–61 bce and pro­ vides us with the largest collection of observational data available from the ancient world. In explaining the choice of historical events incorporated in the Diaries, we have to start from the purpose of the Diaries as a whole. Unfortunately, this is a debated issue. It is clear that the Diaries provide us with a database of observed phenomena assembled and used by Babylonian scholars, but opinions differ about the aim of the collection. Although it is as yet impossible to establish the exact purpose of the collection of data assembled in the Diaries, it seems plausible that this is part of an attempt to predict and control future events.18 The historical events recorded in the Diaries are fairly diverse and can be divided into events of empire-wide importance, like the battles of kings, and affairs of apparently local, Babylonian interest.19 Among the latter, we can dis­ tinguish between religious happenings, such as sacrifices made by kings and their officials at the main temples in Babylon, and a variety of other items, such as information about the food supply and general condition of the popu­ lation and reports of locust attacks, lightning strikes, wild animals visiting the city, and monstrous births.20 The latter are events that are more appropriately defined as ominous events and are traditionally part of the omen compendia. Of all five data categories, the historical phenomena added at the end of the Diaries are the least understood and most enigmatic in terms of the criteria 17 18 19

20

Hunger and Pingree (1999: 141). See Ossendrijver, this volume pp. 53–78. An exception to this rule is a reference to Pallukatu (Faluja) in adart i No. -373A obv. 9–10. In addition, we may note the special status of Borsippa. Aside from the account of the prophet discussed below, Borsippa is mentioned in adart i Nos. -567 rev. 21 (refer­ ence to a wolf entering the city) and -302/301 rev. 5–6, adart ii Nos. -187A rev. 4–18, -155A rev. 8–Upper edge 2 and adart iii No. -105AB obv. A13–B16. These instances may be ex­ plained by the religious interaction between the two cities. Pirngruber (2013: 206–208) lists the ominous events in the historical section of the Diaries.

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underlying their selection.21 This is mostly due to the fact that this section dif­ fers fundamentally from modern historical notions. Traditionally, Babylonian scholars and religious experts considered history to be a recurring phenome­ non, in the sense that it was determined by a simple but fundamental theologi­ cal device: the king had to take care of the gods and their temples in Babylon, and in return the gods took care of the king, his people, and the country.22 In case of religious neglect, it was thought that the fury of the gods would make king and country suffer and would eventually lead to the substitution of the king. The selection of events recorded in the Diaries suggests this reciprocal interpretation of history still applies in the Diaries. As Pirngruber points out, the length, placement, subject, and distribution of historical events in the Diaries over the course of time seem at first to be fairly random.23 But closer study does reveal a certain pattern. The recording of historical events was part of the Diaries from the beginning. Initially both historical and ominous events were simply incorporated among the day-to-day astronomical observations, but from the fourth century onwards, they were presented in a separate so-called historical section at the end of each month. The number of such historical sections with respect to the total number of Diaries increases substantially from the late Seleucid period onwards (i.e. from the latter half of 160 bce); this state of affairs has so far not been satisfactorily explained.24 Be that as it may, the fact that from the beginning, ominous events are put on a par with what we now consider to be “proper” historical events suggests that the ancients did not make this distinction, and that to them both types of event had the same connotations. 3

Empire versus Babylon

The fact that events of empire-wide importance related to the king are com­ bined with apparently trivial information about the local situation in Babylon has traditionally been explained by the Sitz im Leben of the Diaries. Since these are the records of scholars living in Babylon, it is usually assumed the authors 21 22 23 24

The following discussion is largely based upon the apt analysis of the historical sections of the Astronomical Diaries by Pirngruber (2013). Glassner (2004: 10). Cf. Pongratz-Leisten (2014: 35) who points out that historical events are considered variations on the original combat myth. As a consequence, myth as a ref­ erential system formed the matrix of historical accounts. Pirngruber (2013: 200–202). See Tuplin, this volume; and, for the role of historical narrative in the late Diaries, see Haubold, this volume.

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were simply better informed about the local situation.25 It may be argued, how­ ever, that there is more to it than this. Traditionally, the situation in Babylon is intimately related to the situation in the remainder of the country. From the reign of Hammurabi onwards, Babylon was the seat of power in Mesopotamia for several consecutive dynastic periods. At first it was only a political capital, but later it became central in cosmological and theological matters as well.26 The ideology of Babylon as the oldest city and the centre of the universe is best articulated in Enūma Eliš, the text that recounts how Marduk defeated the chaos monster Tiamat, created the cosmos, and established Babylon with its temple Esagila as his residence. Ideally (though not always in practice) this no­ tion was ritually re-enacted every year in the celebration of the akītu festival.27 Equally important in this respect is the fact that Marduk and his cult play an important role in guaranteeing the power of the Babylonian king. Traditionally it is Marduk who provides the king with the right to rule; in return the king is responsible for the maintenance of the temples and cult in the country.28 Al­ though the notion of kingship as a service contract with the divine goes back to at least the mid-third millennium bce,29 it is above all the Neo-Babylonian kings who make the notion of giving to the gods crucial to the idea of king­ ship.30 The wellbeing of the gods is seen as the principal task of the king ­because his care ensures that the gods will take good care of the country. In view of the importance of Marduk and his temple for the country, it goes with­ out saying that his temple Esagila in Babylon was at the centre of this royal patronage. From the twelfth or eleventh century onwards Ezida, the temple of Marduk’s son Nabû in Borsippa, became almost as important as his father’s temple in Babylon.31 In this respect it is telling that the epithet zānin Esagila u Ezida, “provider of Esagila and Ezida”, is the title most frequently used by the Neo-Babylonian kings.32 Conversely, this worldview implies that if Marduk’s cult in Babylon is ne­ glected, this is bound to have disastrous consequences for both the king and the country as a whole. The fact that such a view did indeed prevail until late in Mesopotamian history can be seen from a number of texts, the most ­illustrative

25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32

ADART I; Van der Spek (1993: 94). On Babylon as the religious and cosmological centre of the universe, see George (1997); Maul (1997) and (2013). Pongratz-Leisten (1994: 106–111). Pongratz-Leisten (2014). Renger (1976–1980); (1980–1983). Waerzeggers (2011). Pomponio (1978); Pomponio (1998–2001). Da Riva (2008: 94).

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of which are the so-called Akkadian prophecies. These five texts, dating from the twelfth century bce to the beginning of the Seleucid period, describe the disastrous impact on cult and country of the actions of incompetent rulers, and predict the coming of a future monarch who will rule with the approval of the gods, restore the proper functioning of the native cult, and institute a period of prosperity for the country.33 Another illustrative example is the text known as the Weidner Chronicle, which is primarily concerned with various kings’ incorrect behaviour towards Marduk’s temple in Babylon.34 The whole point of this text is to illustrate that those rulers who neglect or insult Marduk, or who fail to provide certain offerings or rituals, come to an unhappy end.35 By supplying negative examples, these texts emphasize that defeating enemies and supporting religious cult and economic well-being are all part and parcel of Mesopotamian royal ideology.36 It is of great interest for the present discussion that such ideas were still very much alive in Babylon at the beginning of the Seleucid period, at a time when Babylon had been ruled by foreign rulers for centuries on end.37 Of course it does not follow that other Babylonian cities still accepted Babylon’s primacy as well. With the diminishing political importance of Babylon, they may well have developed local religious alternatives to fill the void.38 But this does not preclude the possibility that the authors of the Diaries still adhered to the old view of their city as a centre of divine and human affairs. 4

The Diaries and Religion in the City of Babylon

In view of what has been argued so far it is not surprising that sacrifices made by the king or his representative in Babylon frequently figure in the ­Astronomical 33

34 35 36 37

38

See most recently Neujahr (2006) and (2012). Although these texts are still frequently re­ ferred to by this term, they are not prophecies in the true sense of the word. I agree with Neujahr, who describes these texts as a historical review in the form of vaticinia ex eventu, i.e. foretelling after the event. Grayson (1975: 43–45). The chronicle, which is in fact a letter from one king to another, describes the situation in the second millennium. The most recent tablets were found in the Sippar Library and date from the Neo-Babylonian period: Al-Rawi (1990). Pongratz-Leisten (2014: 42). Lambert (1998: 69–70). The text known as the Dynastic Prophecy probably dates from the early years of Mace­ donian rule: Neujahr (2012: 58–70). The Uruk Prophecy deals with Assyrian and Neo-­ Babylonian kings, but was still being copied in the Persian and Seleucid period: Scurlock (2010: 278). The local religious diversity among Babylonian cities in the Seleucid period is rightly stressed by Stevens (2014).

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Diaries. But whereas these occasions have traditionally been read as proof that foreign kings were much involved in the maintenance of the traditional cults or at least respected their symbolic importance,39 I would argue that exactly the opposite is the case. While in the Neo-Babylonian period royal patronage and presence during festivals had been common, direct participation by the king became increasingly rare from the Achaemenid period onwards.40 In ­total, the Diaries mention only four instances from the Seleucid period that testify to the king participating in the cult in Babylon.41 More specifically, while Neo-Babylonian rulers had regularly participated in the akītu festival, the only Seleucid king known to have done so is Antiochus iii in 205/204 bce.42 The fact that Antiochus’ attendance is explicitly mentioned implies that the par­ ticipation of the king had become highly unusual.43 Rather than the kings giving and sustaining the temples, the Diaries’ accounts of the Seleucid kings tell of them stealing from temple treasuries.44 After Antiochus iii, the visits of the king come to an end and he is replaced by a satrap or another official.45 During the period of Parthian domination, not only is the king absent, but the temple is required to provide for the sacrificial animals.46 In this respect it is noteworthy that the great majority of the reports of religious issues in the Diaries inform us about situations that are out of the ordinary. Although we know from cuneiform texts from Uruk and Babylon that the daily offerings and traditional festivals, which were indispensable for the 39 40 41

42 43

44 45

46

Szelenyi-Graziotto (1996: 179–180); Linssen (2004: 18); Clancier and Monerie (2014: 225). Rightly pointed out by Beaulieu (2013: 527); cf. Dirven (2014: 208–212) and Ristvedt (2014). adart i No. -330 rev. 3–14 (Alexander sacrifices in Esagila); adart ii No. -245B obv. 3–5 (Seleucus i celebrates a festival, probably in Esagila); adart ii Nos. -204 rev. 14–19 (­Antiochus iii participates in the akītu festival); -187A rev. 4–18 (Antiochus iii sacrifices in Esagila). adart ii No. -204 rev. 14–19. Kuhrt (2014: 165–166). This represents a major shift in her thinking on the subject; cf. Kuhrt and Sherwin White (1987) and Sherwin White and Kurt (1993). It is interesting to compare this reference with the account in ABC 17 (Religious Chronicle) that describes the situation about 800 years earlier. Here, reference is made to the fact that the king was not able to reach Babylon and the akītu festival was not celebrated (iii 6–10). adart i No. -273B’ rev. 30’–33’, cited by van der Spek (1994: 26) who suggests that these requisitions must have been a heavy burden for the temples. In 177 bce, the commander of the troops of Babylonia sacrifices for the life of King Seleu­ cus, his wife and sons (adart ii No. -178C rev. 18–22). In 157 it is the satrap of Babylonia (adart iii No. -158B rev. 17 = Upper edge 1), in 143 bce the general Ardaya (adart iii No. -144 rev. 17–22), and in 132 and 128 the satrap of Babylonia (adart iii Nos. -133B obv. 22–25 and -129A obv. 16–24). In 106 bce, finally, Orodes is replaced by a man from Subartu (adart iii No. -107C rev. 15–21). adart ii No. -178C rev. 18–22; adart iii Nos. -133B obv. 22–25; -129 16–24; -77A obv. 26–31.

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maintenance of the cosmic order, were still celebrated in the great t­emples, the  ­Diaries do not refer to such everyday events.47 Instead, they report ex­ ceptional situations that threaten the equilibrium: daily rituals that are interrupted,48 offerings that are cut off and do not take place,49 work that is not done in the temple workshop,50 a time-honoured ritual that is re-installed,51 the recitation of eršaḫunga tablets (texts that are traditionally recited to ap­ pease the anger of the gods),52 the restoration of temples,53 accounts of thefts from the temple,54 and a violent conflict between ritual specialists from Baby­ lon and Borsippa.55 In the worldview of the Babylonians, such disturbances to the cult are related to disasters in both Babylon and the country, disasters that loom large in the later Diaries. 5

The Account of the Messenger of Nanāya in adart iii No. -132

The remarkable story about the prophet of Nanāya that is told in two tab­ lets, in a longer and a shorter version, clearly also belongs to this category of ­extraordinary religious events, for in the Diaries it is unique. Apart from a short article by Martti Nissinen and the valedictory lecture of Bert van der Spek (in Dutch), there are no commentaries on the text, and it has therefore largely gone unnoticed by historians of religion.56 This is a missed opportunity. Not only does this account testify to a conflict between the religious authorities and the populace—as such illustrating the crumbling power of traditional 47

48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56

The texts were collected by Linssen (2004). Linssen assumes these texts should be taken literally. Although it can be shown this was sometimes the case (cf. Hibbert 1984), most texts probably describe an ideal situation: Dirven (2014: 210–211). On the importance of the daily cult for the maintenance of the cosmic order, see Maul (2008). adart iii No. -140A obv. 20–23. adart ii No. -209D obv. 16; adart iii Nos. -160C 6–7; -158B rev. 17–Upper edge 1; -126A obv. 6–rev. 7. adart ii No. -226A obv. 1–2. adart iii No. -141C obv. 11–12. adart ii Nos. -229B obv. 5–11; -226B rev. 1–2. adart i Nos. -330 rev. 3–14; -321 rev. 14; adart ii Nos. -245A obv. 11–13 (uncertain interpre­ tation); -182C rev. 11–12; adart iii No. -144 obv. 34–37. adart i No. -277 14–15; adart ii Nos. -254 obv. 12–13; -240 obv. 5–8; -175B rev. 2–7; -168 rev. A12–20; adart iii Nos. -107C rev. 15–21; -105A rev. 21–25. adart iii No. -105ab obv. A13–B16. adart iii, pp. 216–219, No. -132B (lines rev. 25–36 + lower left and upper edge) with plates 218–19 (copy) and 220 (photograph). adart iii, pp. 224–225, No. -132C (lines 26–34), with plate 221 (photograph). More recent editions in Del Monte (1997: 126); Nissinen (2002: 64–67); Nissinen (2003: no. 134, pp. 196–198); van der Spek (2014).

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r­ eligious i­ nstitutions—but it is also a unique report of a prophetic movement that provides us with useful additional information on prophecy in the ancient Near East. Before summarizing the text, it is useful to sketch the historical context of this event. As I stated above, the scribes presupposed a direct relationship be­ tween the situation in Babylon and its temples and the situation in the remain­ der of the country; for this reason, the two should be understood in relation to each other. Nanāya’s messenger performed in 133 bce, during the years 140–120 bce, which were extremely uncertain and chaotic times for Babylonia.57 Mints from Seleucia on the Tigris suggest the Parthian king Mithridates i conquered the city in 141 bc. From the Astronomical Diaries we learn that “Arsaces” (= Mithridates i) was accepted as king from Month i seb (Seleucid Era of the Babylonian calendar) 171, which is equivalent to 13 April 141 bce (adart iii No. -140A obv. 1); that an official came from Seleucia to Babylon in the same month, possibly “taking the hands of Ishtar of Babylon” (-140A obv. 20-23); and that the king appointed a certain Antiochus, son of Ar’abuzana, as chief general of Babylonia on the 24th day of Month iii, 171 seb = 4th July 141 bce. On the 28th of the same month the king seems to have arrived in person and installed himself as “Great King” (if this badly preserved phrase is interpret­ ed correctly […Iar-šá]-ka-a LUGAL? GAL-ú mun-nu-ú, “Arsaces, counted as ‘Great King’”).58 But even if he succeeded in keeping Seleucia, the same does not apply to Babylon and the south of Mesopotamia. The Astronomical Diaries describe a period of turmoil, continuous fighting, and military campaigns be­ tween the 140s and the mid-120s.59 It is a mess involving Arsacids, rebel Arsacid generals, Seleucids, rebel Seleucid generals or satraps, Elamites, King Hyspao­ sines of Charakene, and finally Arab raiders, all of whom manage to occupy Babylonia for varying periods of time. Only after 125/124 bce are the Parthi­ ans able to neutralise the Elymaean “terror”. The same Diary that informs us about the religious riot in Babylon and Borsippa seems to refer to some fight­ ing around Susa and to the fact that Kamnaskires (king of Elymais) is driven out of Babylonia. In light of this, it is important to note that the Šumma izbu omens of monstrous births of various kinds of animals or humans, which had disappeared from the records of the Astronomical Diaries 200 years earlier, re­ turn in substantial numbers in the years between 133–122 bce.60 Interestingly, 57 58 59 60

Hackl, Jacobs & Weber (2010: 48–90). I am grateful to Bert van der Spek for sharing his views on this chaotic period. On the political situation described by the Diaries, see further Hackl, Jacobs & Weber (2010); Haubold in this volume. As was rightly pointed out by Pirngruber (2013: 202); cf. the table listing ominous events mentioned in the Diaries on pp. 206–207.

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these are omens traditionally pertaining to the public sphere, dealing with the well-being of the king and country. Beginning with line 25 of adart iii No. -132B, we read how in the month October of the year 133, an anonymous man, identified by the text as a boat­ man, sets up a cult dais in the streets of Babylon, places a food offering on top, and announces that Marduk has entered Babylon.61 Men and women assemble around this cult dais, likewise make food offerings, and eat and drink together in a joyful celebration. The reading of lines 29–30 is uncertain, but in line 31 we read that the boatman delivers a new message to the people and announces that Nanāya has entered Borsippa and its main temple Ezida. He and his fol­ lowers instantly depart for Borsippa, where they are welcomed by the people. Lines 33–36 are much damaged, but probably record how the boatman and his followers enter the temple, bring offerings, and prostrate themselves before the goddess. As in Babylon, the boatman subsequently proclaims his message in the streets, on what seems to be a festive and joyful occasion. The text men­ tions a chariot (l.e.3), which possibly implies that the statue of the goddess was taken from the temple and was paraded in the city.62 The self-professed messenger of Nanāya preaches in Borsippa about an anonymous god, prob­ ably referring to him as “the strong god, the hunter of your god(s)”. The temple authorities deny the boatman is a mouthpiece of the goddess, labelling him a šabibannu.63 The meaning of this word is not entirely clear. Possibly it is a derogatory term that ridicules the boatman as a popular preacher or false prophet.64 Be that as it may, the men of the temple assembly clearly feel threat­ ened by his message, and fear for the safety of the temple, its gods, and the city. They try to convince the crowds to return home and give up their blasphemous ways. But neither the boatman nor his followers listen to them. The remainder of the tablet is no longer readable, but it seems from a shorter version of the same story on another tablet (C) that these events resulted in a riot in which people (possibly including the boatman himself) were killed. 61 62 63 64

My summary of the events is based on the new reading of the text prepared for this vol­ ume by Eleanor Robson (see the Appendix to this chapter). This would accord well with the subsequent lines (l.e. 2), in which the men of the temple assembly say “You shall not bring out the gods (from their temples)”. L.e. 4. Eleanor Robson translates “the man who is outside”, which perhaps refers to a popular preacher, someone who stands outside the religious status quo. Van der Spek (2014, note 42) translates “prophet”, but there are plenty of other words designating prophets in Baby­ lonia and the use of an otherwise unknown word for a familiar role is in my view unlikely. Nissinen (2002: 66, n. 20), argues that the word derives from šabābu, “to roast, to burn”, and translates “hothead”.

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In analysing this passage, it is important to realize that the incident is told by outsiders. In fact, we may safely assume that the scribe of the tablet was part of the religious establishment that vehemently opposed this self-­ professed messenger of Nanāya. Nanāya is an ancient Babylonian goddess who was worshipped in Ezida in Borsippa as the spouse of Nabû, and as such the most important goddess of the city.65 In the Hellenistic and Parthian periods, we can observe the growing popularity of this goddess, in particular outside her traditional cult centres.66 This possibly explains the popularity of her mes­ sage in the streets of Babylon. It is noteworthy that the boatman delivers his message outside the temple and that people gather around him on the streets. This points to the founding of a popular cult, outside the temples, indepen­ dent of the traditional cult and priesthood. It confirms that traditional Babylo­ nian deities had a life outside the temples, and indeed survived long after the temples had disappeared.67 The rituals which people celebrate on the streets of Babylon also testify to religious change and are a sign of the times: offering and then eating and drinking together derive from Greek custom and are not traditionally Babylonian.68 If the proposed reading of lines 33–36 is correct, the boatman and his followers entering the temple is equally disturbing from a traditional point of view. The right to enter the temple had long been reserved for cultic personnel (referred to as “temple enterers”), and entry was prohib­ ited for lay persons. So if the prophet and his followers did indeed enter the temple, they were transgressing a time-honoured rule. While the inhabitants of Babylon and Borsippa accept that the boatman is the mouthpiece of the goddess Nanāya, the religious authorities deny this and accuse him of being a fraud who has lost his mind (ṭe-en-sú iš-ni-ma, lit­ erally “his reason changed”).69 The description that he has lost his mind may well refer to a state of trance or ecstasy, a well-known way of communicating with the divine that is common cross-culturally. Spirit possession is by defini­ tion ambiguous, and its success is entirely dependent on the credibility of the 65 66 67 68

69

On Nabu and Nanāya in Borsippa, see Dirven (1999). On the cult of Nanāya in the later period, see Ambos (2003); Goodnick-Westenholz (2014). Dirven (2014: 14–16). Dirven (2014: 210 with note 41), for other instances of this so-called “sacrifice in the Greek fashion” in the Diaries. The ritual celebrated by Nanāya’s messenger suggests that the Bab­ ylonian population had by this time accepted a Greek custom that was first introduced by the Seleucid kings. Robson reads the fragmentary preceding word as it-taṣ-bi-[it-ma…], “was seized”, in line with Nissinen (2002: 65, n. 7) who reconstructs, it-taṣ-b[a-ta-am-m]a, “was seized, went into trance”. Bert van der Spek argues that the damaged sign is definitely not BA and re­ jects this reading. I follow the most recent reading by Robson, not least because it fits excellently in the present context.

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messenger. In the same culture, trance may be considered either acceptable or pathological, largely depending on the social position of both the messenger and his or her public. Clearly, this was the case here: while the people on the street think the message is divinely inspired, the authorities argue that these are the words of a deranged person. In the literature there is some debate about the role and identity of the “strong god, the hunter of your gods”.70 Because of the multiple possible inter­ pretations of ana muḫḫi, opinions differ as to whether the boatman speaks “on behalf of”, “about, concerning” or “against” this god.71 The identity of this god may, however, be less important than is commonly assumed. Prophecy and other forms of divination must be understood in the context of Mesopotamian belief that the future was predictable and, once predicted, was also alterable.72 What matters most about this prophecy is therefore not the identity of the god, but the fact that the prophet is trying to warn the people so that counter­ measures can be taken and the disaster averted.73 The fact that the god is not referred to by name strongly suggests this is a foreign, non-Babylonian god. This hypothesis accords well with the many foreign parties that threatened Babylon and the surrounding region at this time. As the messenger of a deity who communicates divine words to the public, our boatman may be labelled a prophet. Although direct contact and com­ munication with the divine is a cross-cultural phenomenon, prophecy is traditionally associated with Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. Not surpris­ ingly therefore, theological notions associated with these so-called “religions of the book” also surface in the interpretations of the story that have been proposed so far. Nissinen interprets the message of this prophet as a mono­ theistic declaration,74 whereas Del Monte associates the boatman’s preaching with contemporary prophetic movements in Babylonian Judaism.75 Van der 70 71

72 73 74 75

Robson points out that māḫisu means “hunter” in first-millennium scholarly literature. Robson translates “concerning” which makes sense for a god that in all likelihood pre­ sented a threat to the gods of Borsippa. Compare Nissinen (2002: 70), who translates: “I have been sent on behalf of the strong hitting god, your god (i.e. Nanāya)”. Cf. also Pirngru­ ber (2013: 202), Del Monte (1997: 126): “io sono inviato a proposito (?) del dio potente che colpisce i vostri dei”, i.e. “I was sent with regard to the strong god…”. Van der Spek (2014: 13) translates: “ik ben gezonden in zake een sterke god”, i.e., “I have been sent in relation to a strong god”. As he points out (op. cit. 14–15), ana muḫḫi is used in the Diaries in the sense of “(addressed) to” or “against”. Hunger (2009). On this function of foreknowledge, see Tiemeyer (2005); cf. de Jong (2007: 238). The image of the prophets as oppositional figures predicting the irrevocable downfall of society is a product of later reflection, dominating the Jewish scriptures; cf. de Jong (2007, esp. 254). Nissinen, (2002: 69–70), with reference to Parpola (1997). Del Monte (1997: 126).

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Spek connects the preaching of this prophet with the trend towards a more personal religious experience, which allegedly started at the beginning of the Hellenistic period and eventually resulted in the preaching of Jesus of Naza­ reth and the rise of Christianity.76 Although prophecy is indeed important in these three religions, it is by no means a monotheistic phenomenon; to study the account of the Babylonian prophet along these lines is therefore to run the risk of drawing conclusions that do not apply to the situation in Mesopota­ mia.77 I therefore suggest looking for comparative material nearer at hand, in a world where the worldview was similar to the one we are trying to understand: Mesopotamia proper. In what follows, I shall evaluate the similarities and dif­ ferences between our text and earlier Mesopotamian sources about prophecy from an anthropological and sociological point of view, using Ioan Lewis’s stimulating sociological model of ecstasy and spirit possession. 6

Prophecy in the Ancient Near East

Although prophecy was undoubtedly a widespread phenomenon in the an­ cient Near East, the non-Jewish instances that have come down to us are very limited. To date there are two main corpora of Mesopotamian texts dealing with prophecy, the so-called Mari letters dating from the eighteenth century bce and the seventh-century bce Neo-Assyrian texts from the reigns of As­ surbanipal and Esarhaddon that were found in the royal palaces in Nineveh. Given the huge differences in time and place, it is not surprising to find many differences between these two corpora, but they do share a number of charac­ teristics that may be compared to the much later account in the Astronomical Diaries.78 Although these texts are far more direct than the Jewish accounts, which are veritable literary constructs coloured by a theological agenda, it is good to realize that written prophecies are out of the ordinary, and that proph­ ecy was primarily an oral affair.79 The testimonies that have come down to us are, for the main part, written down by someone other than the prophet, and

76 77

78 79

Van der Spek (2014: 19–22). For a critical evaluation of the complex relationship between monotheism and prophecy, see Pongratz-Leisten (2003). The monotheistic sources testify to a theological agenda that does not necessarily reflect the historical situation they allegedly describe; see de Jong (2007: 323ff), on prophets in the Old Testament. On the differences between the Mari letters and their Neo-Babylonian counterparts, see van der Toorn (2000a: 71–87). Nissinen (2003: 4).

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the contents of these prophecies are undoubtedly influenced by the context in which they were found.80 In both Mari and Nineveh, we find a substantial number of designations for both men and women who function as the mouthpiece of a deity. Among these, the muḫḫûm of Mari and the maḫḫû and raggimû in Neo-Assyrian sources are the most common. muḫḫû (Babylonian) and maḫḫû (Assyrian) de­ rive from maḫû, “to go into a frenzy”, and it is clear from the texts that ecstatic behaviour is the most important quality of this figure over time.81 Although spirit possession or trance is not obligatory for prophets from Mari and Assyria, it is clear that they act as direct mouthpieces of the gods whose message they communicate. Spirit possession is just one way of communicating directly with the gods; another way to come face to face with deities is through dreams. Both these are among the so-called non-inductive methods of divination: ways of learning the will of the gods that do not require any specialised knowledge or techni­ cal operations. As a consequence, such actions are performed by people who have not received any special training.82 Non-inductive or intuitive methods of divination are markedly different from the so-called inductive methods, which range from astrology, oil omens, and birth omens, to extispicy (prediction of the future from entrails of animals) and necromancy (communication with the deceased). These crafts were based on specialised knowledge and technical operations and were therefore confined to scholars who had received intensive training in Mesopotamia’s most important temples and therefore were mem­ bers of an elite cultural group.83 These practitioners were, of course, the very people who also compiled the Astronomical Diaries. Socially, these specially trained experts were far superior to prophets and other non-inductive or intui­ tive diviners.84 In light of the material from Mari and Nineveh, scholars such as ­Matthijs de Jong have recently argued that in Mesopotamia, inductive and noninductive methods of divination were to a large extent complementary and were practised side by side.85 Both prophecy and other forms of divination must be understood in light of the belief that gods communicate with people 80 81 82 83 84 85

As is pointed out by van der Toorn (2000b). It is telling that in Assyrian royal inscriptions derivatives of maḫû occur with the negative meaning “to go mad, become crazy”; cf. de Jong (2007: 220 with note 12). Although it cannot be said that such prophets were as a rule uneducated, education was not a prerequisite for prophecy. On these two types of divination, see Bottero (1974: 88ff.). On the social aspects of liver divination in the Neo-Assyrian court, see Robson (2011). De Jong (2007: 239).

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about the future. By communicating with the gods through dreams, receiving divine inspiration, and decoding the sky and other signs, both prophets and scholars can predict the future. In turn, this foreknowledge enables religious experts to change the decisions of the gods through rituals, magic, and suppli­ cation. Hence by announcing the king’s victory over his enemies, or warning of a future disaster, the prophets from Mari and Assyria serve the interest of both king and state. Prophetic predictions of military victories not only sup­ port the military campaigns of the king but also ensure the support of both the military and the people for these undertakings.86 By announcing a disaster, the prophet likewise serves the interests of the state, since his prediction enables the priests to take countermeasures. 7

Subversive Prophesy

There is a lot to be said for de Jong’s view of ancient prophecy, at least on the basis of the sources that have come down to us. But it is unlikely that the writ­ ten sources present us with a faithful picture of reality. In fact, the prophecies that were written down are heavily biased and serve as propaganda for the kings. Clearly, their royal connection was a criterion for their preservation in the archives. In turn, this connection determines the function, contents, and reception of these prophecies. It is telling that all were made in the name of official deities that were worshipped in the main temples. In Mesopotamia, these temples were closely related to the political powers. As the prophets ut­ tered their prophecies, they were frequently standing inside the temples, in front of the cult statue of the deity on whose behalf they were speaking. There is considerable discussion about the exact status of these prophets, but most scholars now think that most of them were permanently attached to the tem­ ple. In light of all this, it is not surprising that the prophecies that have come down to us serve the king and the state. Anthropological and sociological studies show that this is only one kind of prophecy and that in addition to prophecies that confirm the status quo, we also have to reckon with prophecies with a subversive element. Such prophe­ cies frequently go unnoticed in the written sources because they are a threat to the status quo. The prophet who preached in Babylon and Borsippa in 133 bce clearly belonged to the latter category, whereas the prophets in Mari and Assyria belonged to the first, participating in what the anthropologist Ioan 86

Van der Toorn (1987: 68).

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Lewis describes as central cults of spirit possession.87 Central spirit posses­ sion is closely connected with the religious (male) establishment, gives voice to the most important gods or god, and serves to sustain accepted norms and maintain the political status quo. The prophet of Nanāya, by contrast, belongs to what Lewis calls a peripheral cult of spirit possession. Such peripheral cults frequently tend to involve spirits that are considered inferior or amoral and are often culturally foreign.88 They enable the socially weak to pursue their inter­ ests and challenge the social and religious status quo. I would not claim that Lewis’ model can be projected wholesale onto the Babylonian material, but his sociological interpretation of trance and spirit possession provides valuable insights for assessing the role of prophecy in Mesopotamia. Lewis rightly points out that spirit possession always has the potential to express social and religious criticism. Because the spirit or god is speaking through the medium, the medium can never be held personally responsible for the message. Needless to say, this may greatly contribute to his—or more frequently her—authority in a given society, which explains why spirit possession and prophecy are frequently considered dangerous by the po­ litical and religious establishment. History provides many examples of this; on several occasions the Roman emperors banned ecstatic preachers from Rome, and there are numerous instances of the Catholic Church feeling threatened by mystics and persecuting them. Joan of Arc is but one of many examples. Because prophetic messages are potentially dangerous, prophets need to be contained and disarmed—either by eliminating them, or by trying to incor­ porate their messages into the status quo. It is the latter that applies to the ­situation of the prophets from Mari and Assyria. In fact, Karel van der Toorn has suggested that the elevated position of prophets in the Mesopotamian sources may well be an exception to the rule, and that trained experts were not normally on a par with prophets.89 Bēl-ušēzib, a famous Babylonian astrolo­ ger, complains in a letter to King Esarhaddon that prophets and prophetesses receive too many favours from the king.90 This illustrates the fact that trained experts sometimes felt threatened by intuitive diviners, and that the two kinds of religious experts competed for the favours of the king. The prophecies that have come down to us owe their written form and sub­ sequent survival to their connection with the king. This does not, ­however, 87 88 89 90

Lewis (2003: 29–30), discussed in Chapters 5 and 6. Lewis (2003: 27–28), discussed in Chapters 3 and 4. It is noteworthy that our account devi­ ates in this respect. Nanāya was, after all, an old and venerable Mesopotamian goddess. Cf. below. Van der Toorn (1987: 91). SAA 10, no, 109 = Nissinen (2003: 153–155).

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exclude the possibility that there were also other kinds of prophets and prophecies.91 In an Assyrian letter, Nabû-rēḫtu-uṣur tries to convince Esarhad­ don of a conspiracy against him.92 He refers to a prophecy of the god Nusku, proclaimed by a slave girl in the vicinity of Harran (probably in a temple), according to which the kingship will be taken away from Esarhaddon: “This is the word of Nusku: The kingship is for Sasi! I will destroy the name and seed of Sennacherib!”93 When Esarhaddon urges his vassal kings to swear loyalty to the crown prince, they have to promise not to listen to secret messages of raggimū (prophets) and maḫḫû (ecstatics).94 Prophecy was always potentially dangerous and needed to be contained. Priests, scribes, and other temple of­ ficials played an important role in the suppression of prophecy, for they were the ones who witnessed the prophecy and communicated the message to the king.95 Non-contained prophets were considered a risk for the status quo. This much may be inferred from an omen in the series concerning anomalous births, Šumma izbu xi, lines 7–8: “if an anomaly’s right ear is cropped and in­ flated with wind, prophetesses will seize the land”.96 The account of Nanāya’s prophet presents us with a rare description of a peripheral prophetic movement in Mesopotamia, seen through the eyes of the religious establishment. What is remarkable, and in contrast with the situation as described by Lewis, is that this messenger preaches in the name of an of­ ficial goddess, a goddess traditionally associated with the religious status quo. ­Clearly the temple officials were unable to contain this popular messenger of their goddess, and they were also unwilling to give in to his demands. I have argued that such a tension between religious experts and intuitive diviners was nothing new in Mesopotamia. But the situation in 133 bce may have been par­ ticularly threatening, since these were difficult times for the traditional temples and their personnel. As I have argued elsewhere, the traditional temples were very much in decline during this period.97 Not only did the once all-­powerful temples and their personnel progressively turn into a religious minority in the city, but they had also lost their political power to the politai due to the

91 92 93 94 95 96 97

De Jong (2007: 226). BL 1217 (= SAA 16 59 = Nissinen (2003: 170–172)). SAA 16 59 (ABL 1217 rev. 1–5) = Nissinen (2003: 170–171). Referred to by Van der Toorn (1987), who points out that similar instances are known from Israel. Measures were also taken in Mari to limit proliferation (Bottero 1974: 91). Leichty (1970: 131, 7) = Nissinen (2003: 189). Dirven (2014).

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reforms of Antiochus iii and/or iv in the 180s and 160s bce.98 If my interpre­ tation of the prophet’s performance is correct, the Diaries show that the people compiling them were very much aware of this decline. Possibly, this decay also explains why the messenger is speaking in the name of Nanāya, an old Mesopotamian goddess traditionally associated with the religious establishment. The event may well have been recorded in the Diaries because of its omi­ nous significance.99 As noted above, in this period monstrous births were suddenly mentioned again in the Diaries after an absence of 200 years. In adart iii No. -132D (rev. 13) we find a reference to such an ominous birth. This opens up the possibility that the story of the prophet was recorded because it was the apodosis of an omen like the one from Šumma izbu referred to above. To the scribe and the ancient religious elite to which he belonged, this inci­ dent illustrated that a prophet had indeed seized the land. By threatening the religious status quo, the prophet endangered the safety and well-being of the country as a whole. 8

The Messenger of Nanāya as a Sign of the Times

The period of transition between Seleucid and Parthian rule was an exceed­ ingly insecure and hazardous time, both for the city of Babylon and for Meso­ potamia as a whole. In a world where proper care of the gods was traditionally considered crucial for the wellbeing of the country, this political and military crisis resulted in severe tensions, which were reflected in the events surround­ ing Nanāya’s messenger. The popularity of this prophet with the population of Babylon and Borsippa suggests that a large proportion of the common people had lost faith in the traditional religious establishment and were looking for religious alternatives. Conversely, the chaos in the country also resulted in soul-searching among members of the scribal elite. The facts assembled in the 98

99

Clancier and Monerie (2014); Clancier (2017). Clancier and Monerie argue that members of the Esagila assembly managed to maintain their political, economic and cultural pow­ er during the first century of Seleucid rule in Mesopotamia, and only lost this position gradually from the middle of the second century. Cf. already Sciandra (2011) and (2012). Although both the Astronomical Diaries and the Babylonian Chronicles suggest that the eighties and sixties of the second century were a turning point, I am less convinced by the claim that the ancient elite of Babylon managed to maintain or even strengthen its political and economic power in the preceding century. In fact, the evidence to this effect is extremely sparse and may easily be interpreted otherwise. This confirms the intriguing hypothesis advanced by Pirngruber (2013).

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Astronomical Diaries probably served the need of this elite to come to terms with the deteriorating situation of the traditional temples. The selection of historical events suggests that the scribes tried to explain the crisis in Mesopo­ tamia and Babylon by recourse to the traditional worldview. Foreign rulers ne­ glected their duties with respect to the maintenance of the traditional temples, and this negligence brought disaster upon the city and the country. To them, Nanāya’s messenger provided living proof of this idea.

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Appendix: A New Reading of adart iii Nos. -132B and C Eleanor Robson This edition of these badly damaged and difficult texts is heavily indebted to the prior work of Sachs and Hunger (ADART III: 216–221, 224–5), Del Monte (1997), Nissinen (2002) and van der Spek (2014: 11–15). I am also very grateful to Irving Finkel for his stimulating suggestions while collating the tablets in the British Museum in April 2017 and to Bert van der Spek for his insightful com­ ments on the results. Many signs and passages remain enigmatic, and I hope that my efforts will stimulate futher work on these fascinating documents. A.1

adart iii No. -132B

A.1.1 Reverse 25. I TI BI 1-en lúDUMU MÁ.LAḫ₄ it-taṣ-˹bi?˺-[it-ma (…)] 26. ṭe-en-sú iš-ni-ma 1-en BARA₂ bi-rit É d30 É.GIŠ.NU₁₁.GAL u KÁ.GAL ˹še-eʾ-a-šu a?-re?-ʾi?˺ [dAMAR].˹UTU ˺ 27. Š UB-ú NIDBA ana muḫ-ḫi GAR-ma UMUŠ DU₁₀.GA ana lúUN !.MEŠ iq-bi um-ma dEN ana Eki KU₄-ub lú[UN.MEŠ] 28. lúNITA.MEŠ u MUNUS.MEŠ DU-nim-ma NIDBA ana muḫ-ḫi BARA₂ šu₁₀-a-tì GAR.MEŠ ana tar-ṣa ˹BARA₂˺ šu₁₀-a-tì 29.  G U₇-ú NAG-ú i-ḫa-am-mu-ú i-ru-uš-šu-ú 2? gišGIL.MEŠ ˹ḫi?⸣-ba-ṣu e-reb ana BARA₂ šu₁₀-[a-tì (…)] 30.  U ₄ 11-KAM ˹u 12 ˺lúMÁ.LAḫ₄!.MEŠ šu₁₀*-a*-tì* gišMÁ.IRI.ZA.MEŠ našu-nim-ma lúUN.MEŠ TA UN.MEŠ KUR ana DA BARA₂ šu₁₀-[a-tì DU.MEŠ] 31. U MUŠ ana lúUN.MEŠ šú-nu-tú iq-bi um- dna-na-a-a ana bar-sìpki ana É.ZI.DA i-te-ru-ub ḫa-an-ṭiš lúDUMU ˹MÁ*.LAḫ₄*˺šu₁₀-[a-tì] 32. u lúUN.MEŠ šá KI-šú ana bar-sìpki DU.MEŠ-nim-ma lúDUMU. MEŠ ˹bar˺-[sìp]ki ana IGI-šú-nu iḫ-ta-mu-ú iḫ-ta-du-ú gišIG.MEŠ KÁ.GAL.[MEŠ] 33.  ana IGI-šú-nu BAD-ú lúDUMU MÁ*.LAḫ₄!* u lúUN.MEŠ ˹šá?* KI ?* -šú gab-bi-šu? NIGIN ?.MEŠ ana É.ZI.DA KU₄-ú lúbar-sìpki.MEŠ ana lúDUMU ˺ [MÁ.LAḫ₄!]

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34.  i-pu-ul-lu-ú um-ma d˹na˺-[na?-a?-a?] … MEŠ ana ku?-lu?-lu-ú šá-nam?ma? ana DA x [(…)] 35. ku-lu⸣-lu-ú šu₁₀-a-tì ana x […] ˹ŠÁ ˺ x x ˹MEŠ ˺ … 36. [NIDBA ?] ana dna-na-a-[a … ana IGI] dna-na-a-a ina É.ZI.DA uš-ken-nu-ú (1 line traces) A.1.2 Bottom Edge (1 line traces) 2. […] ˹MEŠ ?˺ x x x šu₁₀-a-tì … […] 3. […]-x-nu x ina gišGIGIR GAR.MEŠ lúDUMU MÁ*.LAḫ₄* šu₁₀-a-tì … […] 4. […] ina Eki bar-sìpki u lúUN.MEŠ … RI … gab?-bi? x x x bar?-sìp?˹ki?˺ […] 5. [in]-˹nam˺-mir u ri-qù?-tú ina SILA.MEŠ u bi-rit.MEŠ i-šem-mu-ú A.1.3 Left Edge 1. [um-ma lúDUMU] ˹šip⸣-ri?˺šá dna-na-a-a ana-˹ku˺-[ma] ana ˹muḫ˺-ḫi DINGIR KALA ma-ḫi-ṣu DINGIR.MEŠ-ku-nu šap-ra-ku lúki-niš-˹tu₄ É˺ DINGIR.MEŠ šu₁₀-a-tì ana lúDUMU ˹MÁ*˺.[LAḫ₄] 2. [šu₁₀-a-tì u UN.MEŠ KI-šú] ˹i˺-pu-ul-lu-ú iḫ-sa-a ana ˹É˺.[MEŠ]-kunu GUR.MEŠ ana IRI.MEŠ-ku-nu IRI ana sar-tú u šil-lat là SUM-uʾ DINGIR.MEŠ GIM IRI šil-lat la tu-še-ṣa-a 3. [lúDUMU MÁ.LAH₄ šu₁₀-a]-˹tì˺ i-pu-ul-šú-nu-tú um-ma lúDUMU [šip]-ri šá dna-na-a-a ana-ku-ma IRI ana sar-tú u šil-lat ul a-nam-din ki-ma ŠU. MIN DINGIR dan-na ma-ḫi-ṣu ana É.ZI.DA ur-˹rad?˺ 4. [lúki-niš]-tu₄ É DINGIR.MEŠ šu₁₀-a-tì ana lúUN.MEŠ šá ˹KI˺ [lúDUMU MÁ].LAḫ₄ ! šu₁₀-a-tì i-pu-lu-ú šá KA LÚ šá bi-ba-an-nu la ta-še-em-ma-a là x-x-a ZI-tì-ku-nu 5. [uṣ]-˹ra˺-a ra-ma-ni-ku-nu x […] … lúUN.MEŠ šá-nu-tú qa-bé-e-šú-nu NU im-ḫur-ú-ma? iq-bu-ú A.1.4 Top Edge 1. um-ma […] 2. ana É.ZI.DA […] 3. ˹DINGIR˺ dan-nu ma-ḫi-˹ṣu˺ x […] … […] 4. lúDUMU MÁ*.LAḫ₄!* ˹šu₁₀-a˺-[tì …] … MEŠ šu₁₀-a-tì […] 5. […] … […] x x man-nu šá […] (1 line traces)

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A.2 Translation A.2.1 Reverse 25. That month, a boatman was seized [(…)]. 26. His mind was altered and he erected a cult dais between the temple of Sîn, Egišnugal and the city gate “His Lord Shepherds” of Marduk. 27. He placed food offerings on top and spoke good news to the people, saying: “Marduk has entered Babylon!” [The people,] 28. men and women, came and placed offerings on the cult dais. Around that cult dais 29. they ate, they drank. They became boisterous, they rejoiced. The exuberant one, the intruder […] 2 crowns […] on that cult dais. 30. On day 11 and 12, those boatmen brought …-boats, and people from (amongst all) people of the land came to the side of that cult dais. 31. He spoke news to those people, saying: “Nanāya has entered Borsippa (and) Ezida!”. Quickly that boatman 32. and the people who were with him went to Borsippa, and the citizens of Borsippa became boisterous and rejoiced at their presence. They opened the doors and the city gates 33. in front of them. The boatman and the people with him, all of them, gathered. They entered Ezida. The Borsippans answered the boatman, 34. saying, “Nanāya … for the second crown at the side of […]”(?) 35. that crown to … […] … 36. [food-offerings] to Nanāya […]. They prostrated themselves [in front of] Nanāya in Ezida. (2 lines traces) A.2.2 2. 3. 4. 5.

Bottom Edge […] … that … […] … they placed in a chariot. That boatman … […] … in Babylon (and) Borsippa and the people … all … Borsippa […] he appeared. They heard empty words in the streets and alleys.

A.2.3 Left Edge 1. [Saying], “I am the messenger of Nanāya! I have been sent concern­ ing the strong god, the hunter of your gods”. The men of that temple assembly 2. answered [that boatman and the people with him]: “Retreat to your houses! Return to your cities! Do not give your city to falsehood and

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blasphemy! Do not bring out the gods (from their temples) like a blas­ phemous city!” 3. That [boatman] answered them, saying: “I am the messenger of Nanāya! I shall not give the city to falsehood and blasphemy. Just like the the hands of the strong god, the hunter, I shall go down to Ezida”. 4. [The men] of that temple assembly answered the people that were with that boatman: “Do not listen the the words of the outsider! Do not … your lives!” 5. “Protect yourselves!” … […] … Other people did not accept their speech and they spoke, saying: “[…]” A.2.4 Top Edge 1. To Ezida […] 3. The strong god, the hunter … […] … […] 4. That boatman […] … that […] 5. […] … […] … whoever […] A.3 Notes Rev. 25 There is probably nothing missing at the end of this line, which already runs over the edge of the tablet. Rev. 26 My reading of the second half of this line follows Del Monte (1997: 125, n. 224), who identifies šuʾāšu ireʾʾi as the official name of the Marduk gate in Late Baby­ lonian topographical texts. Rev. 29 The middle of this line is badly damaged and this interpretation is highly conjectural. Following Nissinen (2002: 64–65) I read gišGIL as kulūlū, “crown(s)”, here, because of the recurrence of this word, spelled syllabically, in lines 34–35 below. Nis­ sinen (2002: 64–65) reads the following word as an adjective, ḫi-ba-ṣu-ú-tú, “luxuriant” from ḫabāṣu, “to be distended”. However, the final signs are clearly E and RIB. I there­ fore very tentatively propose to interpret this sequence as two nouns, describing the prophet as the subject of this sentence. Nevertheless, Nissinen’s alternative remains attractive. Rev. 30 This line is very difficult to interpret. The two signs after U₄ 11-KAM are badly damaged and I am not entirely convinced by the reading proposed by van der Spek (2014: 29). Collation shows that the signs after lúMÁ.LAḫ 4.MEŠ are clearly šu₁₀-a-tì, not MAḪ.MEŠ as previously read. The objects of našû must be boats or parts of boats, but it is not clear exactly what they are.

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Rev. 31 The phrase formerly read DUMU RI.ZÀ (or ZAG) does not occur in any other text. After close inspection of the tablet, and following van der Spek (2014: 12 n. 39), Irving Finkel and I read “RI” as MÁ and “ZAG” as LAH₄ = DU+DU very loosely con­ structed: sometimes it is more like DU.DU or DU×DU. Rev. 33 On collation, it appears that the signs after lúUN.MEŠ are to be read šá KI-šú “who are with him”, not DA BARA₂-šú, “from his dais”, as previously read. Rev. 34 See note to line 29 above. ? B.e. 5 I provisionally read this enigmatic sequence of signs as ri-qù -tú but it may be that rīqūtu,“emptiness”, is too pejorative a term for the Diaries, which tend to stay rela­ tively neutral in tone. Nissinen (2002: 64–65, n. 16) provisionally reads ri-gim-šú, “his proclamation” (lit. “his noise”) but the traces do not fit well. Van der Spek’s (2014: 13) equally conjectural riqtu, “een dansfeest”, which he seems to derive from raqādu “to dance” but is otherwise unattested, is much less convincing in the context. L.e. 1 Previous translators have understood māḫiṣu literally as “hitter”, “smiter” (e.g. Nissinen 2002: 66; cf. van der Spek 2014: 13 “Vernietiger”). However, it usually means “hunter” in anthropomorphic contexts in first-millennium scholarly literature (e.g., The Epic of Išum and Erra i 112, iv 93: see CAD M/2 s.v. māḫiṣu 3a). L.e. 2 The reading sar-tu, “falsehood”, is a more straightforward syllabic rendering than the previous readings ḫub-tú or SAR-tú, “loot”, “plunder” (e.g., Nissinen 2002: 65; van der Spek 2014: 66). It regularly collocates with šillatu “blasphemy”: see CAD Š/2 s.v šillatu 1.a: “Blasphemy (against the gods)”. This phrase makes much more sense than the previously understood “robbing and plundering” in the context. L.e. 3 I interpret the phrase ki-ma ŠU.MIN DINGIR, “like the hand(s) of the god” as an allusion to the expression “hand of (a deity)”, found commonly in Standard Baby­ lonian omen compendia and therapeutic compilations to describe agents of divine displeasure, e.g., DIŠ U₄ 1-KÁM GIG-ma SAG.DU-su GU₇-šú U₄.DA.TAB.BA ŠU DINGIR AD.A.NI GAM, “If he is ill for 1 day and his head hurts him: heat stroke; hand of his father’s god; he will die” (Sakikkû 16: 1 = SpTU 1: 37 obv. 1). L.e. 4 The reading LÚ šá bi-ba-an-nu, literally “man of the outside”, bībānu, is highly conjectural. Nissinen (2002: 66, n. 20) reads equally conjecturally šābibannu, “hot­ head”, which he derives from šabābu, “to glow”, while van der Spek (2014: 13, n. 42) tentatively suggests “prophet”, “profeet”. Previous editors have all followed the original edition in reading the sign NU as the final sign of the previous verb. However, to my mind it would make better grammatical sense as another precative negative, “don’t!” The two signs immediately after NU are illegible.

The Case of the Prophet of Nanāya

A.4

185

adart iii, No. -132C

A.4.1 Obverse 26. […] x ITI BI 1-en lúDUMU MÁ.LAḫ₄ BARA₂.MEŠ ina bi-rit KÁ.GAL dAMAR.UTU u […] 27. [lúNITA.MEŠ u] MUNUS.MEŠ ana lìb-bi NIGIN.MEŠ ù NINDA.ḪI.A ina lìb-bi GU₇.MEŠ U₄ 11.˹KAM˺ […] 28. […] MAḪ.MEŠ TA Eki ù TA IRI.MEŠ šá-˹nu˺-tú x-ú a-˹na?˺ […] 29. […] ˹TA˺ iribar-sìpki lúDUMU MÁ.˹LAḫ₄˺ šu₁₀-a-tì ina lúUN.MEŠ MAḫ. [MEŠ …] 30. […].MEŠ lúUN.MEŠ TA IRI RA BU SU x šu₁₀-a-tì […] 31. […]-x-tú ina lìb-bi-šú-nu GAZ.MEŠ ù DIŠ x lú[…] 32. […] DU ina Eki u iri˹bar-sìpki˺ […] 33. [kušši]-˹piš?˺-tú šá-a-[šú um-ma …] A.4.2 Translation 26. […] That month, a certain boatman [erected] daises between the city gate of Marduk and […] 27. [men and] women gathered there and ate food there. On day 11 … […] 28. Numerous […] from Babylon and from other cities … to […] 29. […] from Borsippa. That boatman in/from the numerous people […] 30. […] people from the city … […] 31. […] … they killed in their midst and … […] 32. […] in/from Babylon and Borsippa […] 33. […] that message, [saying…] References Del Monte, G.F. 1997, Testi dalla Babylonia Ellenistica, Vol. i: Testi cronografici. (Pisa and Rome: Instituti editoriali e poligrafici internazionali). Nissinen, M., 2002, “A prophetic riot in Seleucid Babylonia”, in H. Irsigler (ed.), “Wer darf hinaufsteigen zum Berg JHWHs?” Beiträge zu Prophetie und Poesie des Alten Testaments. Festschrift für S.Ö. Steingrímsson zum 70. Geburtstag (Emming, Erzab­ tei St. Ottilien: Eos Verlag), 63–74. van der Spek, R.J., 2014, “Ik ben een boodschapper van Nanaia!” Een babylonische pro­ feet als teken des tijds (133 v.Chr.). Afscheidsrede Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam 10 oktober 2014 (Amsterdam: Vrije Universiteit).

Chapter 6

The Museum Context of the Astronomical Diaries Reinhard Pirngruber 1 Introduction1 In a meticulous study of Late Babylonian libraries, Philippe Clancier has recently placed the corpus of the Astronomical Diaries in the wider context of the Esagila temple’s ‘library’ dedicated to the production and preservation of knowledge.2 One important finding of his study is that astronomical tablets, including the Diaries, appear in a relatively restricted number of collections within the British Museum, alongside a plethora of texts pertaining to the most diverse disciplines of Babylonian knowledge culture, from religious literature to lexical lists. However, the original find spots of the Diaries are, it seems, irretrievably lost to modern scholarship, so that it seems difficult to make further progress on how exactly these texts were originally archived. One possible way forward might be to consider certain formal features of the Diaries and try to match them with patterns of distribution across modern museum collections. For example, there is evidence for the existence of subseries within the larger corpus of Diaries. A case in point is the group of Diaries recording events for four months dating to the fourth century bce. These tablets often bear a catch-line, which suggests that they originally constituted a coherent series. And there are of course the ‘preliminary’ Diaries, i.e., Diaries that record periods of a few days only. These mainly date to the first half of the second century bce and share a common layout and textual structure.3 1 This article was written under the auspices of the project “Diplomatics and palaeography and Neo- and Late Babylonian archival documents” funded by the Austrian Research Fund (fwf). I would like to thank Christopher Walker for access to his extensive files on the tablets from Babylon housed in the British Museum. 2 See Clancier 2009, especially 159–213; also Beaulieu 2006 for the wider social and historical framework. The concept of a temple library is misleading. Rather, it seems we are dealing here with tablet collections of individual families of scholars that were all stored in the Esagila complex. Clancier was aware of this problem when he wrote, “Plutôt que de parler de « bibliothèque de l’Esagil », mieux vaudrait envisager « les fonds de tablettes littéraires et savantes du sanctuaire de Bēl-Marduk », au sens large” (ibid.: 205). For the sake of convenience, the term library (with inverted commas) is retained in this study. 3 These issues are dealt with in Pirngruber forthcoming. See also Mitsuma 2015 on the category of ‘preliminary Diaries’.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���9 | doi:10.1163/9789004397767_008

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187

One is thus inclined to hope that the distinctiveness of these tablet groups is matched by their appearance in certain tablet collections only. Unfortunately, however, this is not the case. In a recent contribution, I noted that the distribution of ‘preliminary’ Diaries over the various collections of the British Museum exhibits no distinctive pattern. It is consequently impossible to verify on museum-archaeological grounds a working hypothesis that these tablets were kept apart from the standard Diaries, which were compiled from data collected in these preliminary Diaries.4 Despite these difficulties, I propose to reconsider the possibilities and limitations of a museum-archaeological approach to the Astronomical Diaries in this chapter. In the light of the problems that arise from dealing with small tablet groups, I shall attempt to take a step back and consider the entire corpus of the Astronomical Diaries from a museum-archaeological viewpoint to see whether such an approach can help us elucidate the way in which these tablets were archived in antiquity. In order to arrive at a comprehensive appraisal, I will not only attempt to detect patterns in the distribution of the corpus over the various museum collections, but also look at the compositions of the collections themselves. 2

A Museum-archaeological Approach to the Astronomical Diaries: Berlin, Paris, London

While by far the largest portion of the Diaries is currently housed in the British Museum in London, there are some exceptions, which are found mainly in the collections of the Vorderasiatisches Museum in Berlin and the Louvre in Paris. In fact, all known ADs dating to the sixth (adart i No. -567) and fifth (adart i No. -453 and Nos. -418A and B) centuries bce from Babylon are now kept in the Vorderasiatisches Museum. Additionally, adart i No. -463 from Uruk is also housed in Berlin. Hence, with the exception of adart i No. -652, the earliest known Diary, the collections of the bm start only with the year -391. The Berlin Diaries from Babylon arrived at the museum via the antiquities market, and according to Ungnad’s classification in VS 6, as part of collection xiiia. This collection comprises about 130 tablets in total, which are registered 4 The situation here is matched by the evidence from the scholarly tablets of the Mušēzib family from Hellenistic Babylon (including two Diaries), which constitute a part of the Esagila ‘library’ and which are scattered over nine collections in the British Museum plus one fragment in the Louvre; see Robson (2008: 223–225, Table 8.1). The family’s recovered stock of scholarly tablets consists of sixteen tablets, joined from about two and a half times this number of fragments.

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Pirngruber

under inventory numbers vat 4921–5051. By far the largest share of these tablets come from the city of Borsippa or belong to archives of Borsippan families even though the documents themselves were issued in other cities, e.g. Babylon.5 The ancient archives represented include those of clans such as Mannugerūšu, Lā-kuppuru and Ilšu-abūšu, and most of them date to the final decades of the ‘long 6th century bce’, i.e. the reigns of Darius i, Xerxes and the rebel kings Šamaš-erība and Bēl-šimânni. In view of Caroline Waerzeggers’ argument that the ‘Neo-Babylonian Chronicle Series’ was actually written in Borsippa rather than Babylon, as scholars had previously believed (Waerzeggers 2012), it is tempting to assume an analogous situation for the Astronomical Diaries as well. However, it seems more likely that the Diaries entered this collection as stray additions only and that they are in fact from Babylon. First of all, three out of the four copies of Diaries in this collection post-date the crucial watershed of the second years of Xerxes, when the archives of the prebendary families in northern Babylonia come to an abrupt end.6 Secondly, the phrasing of the historical sections, or rather ominous notes, in adart i No. -567 seems to exclude Borsippa as the city of origin. In line rev. 21 we read that a wolf entered the city of Borsippa (ur.bar.ra ana Bar-sipki ku4), whereas the event recorded in line 7 takes place in an unspecified city (“a fox entered the city”, ka5.a ana uru ku4) – most likely Babylon, if one extrapolates from a later parallel.7 Thirdly, in addition to the three Diaries there is one more text that clearly deviates from the collection profile of xiiia: vat 4985 (VS 6 186, edited as number 371 in nrvu i; see also Hackl 2013: 237) is a cancellation of a debt note dating to month viii of year 46 of Artaxerxes ii, i.e. November 359 bce. This text was issued in Babylon. It seems thus that the antiquities dealers added a handful of texts from Late Achaemenid Babylon to the otherwise rather coherent Borsippa collection; consequently, a number of Diaries from Babylon ended up together with legal texts belonging to prebendary families from Borsippa. Regarding the Astronomical Diaries housed in the Louvre, they are part of the mnb (Musée Napoléon Bonaparte) collection, the history of which is unknown to me. These tablets arrived at the Louvre before the establishment

5 The thirty-six tablets from the Amherst collection published summarily in Ungnad (1959/60) also belong to this collection. For further material belonging to this group see also Van Driel (1992: 31–33) and Waerzeggers (2005: 351–352 and 362). There are, however, no Astronomical Diaries (or similar texts) among these additional materials. 6 On the ‘end of archives’ in northern Babylonia see Waerzeggers (2003/4). 7 In adart i No. -418A, obv. 3, “a fox was seen in a broad street of the city” (ka5.a ina sila dagal. la uru igi); in this case, the city is Babylon as is clear from a reference to a “fall of fire” (miqitti išāti) in the city quarter Šuanna in the same line (and in obv. 13 and rev. 4 and 11). On ominous notes in the Diaries see in general Pirngruber (2013).

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189

of the AO collection, very likely in the years between ca. 1875 and 1880.8 The Diaries were published in copy by J.-M. Durand in 1981. Three of the four tablets date to the 240s bce. mnb 1876 and 1904 are even part of the same tablet (adart ii No. -247B) and can be joined to a fragment in the bm. mnb 1874 also forms a join with a fragment from the British Museum; the text in question is adart ii No. -245A.9 Finally, mnb 1879 (adart ii No. -192A) is a preliminary Diary. The other tablets of this collection are legal and administrative documents from the ‘long sixth century bce’ and were published in copy in tcl 12 and 13. A significant number of the texts (e.g., mnb 1832, 1835, 1838 and 1855 edited in Joannes 1982; tcl 13 141, 144, 160, 190, 192, 214 and 219; tcl 12 43, 72, 78, 87, 88, 100 and 118; the letter tcl 9 124) belong to the Egibi archive and the most frequently occurring places of issue are Babylon and Šahrīnu.10 Again, the most likely explanation is that the Diaries (and some other tablets) were added to an otherwise rather coherent lot, the core of which consisted of the business documents of an entrepreneurial family from Babylon. For the ca. seven hundred tablets and fragments published in the first three volumes of adart now housed in the British Museum, the situation is more complex (see Table 6.1). They are scattered over more than twenty collections and arrived at the museum over a period of eighty years, between 1876 and 1958.11 However, the overwhelming majority of tablets arrived at the museum between 1876 and 1881. Afterwards, only collection 82-7-4 yielded a significant number of additions to the corpus (twenty-five fragments). Another fifteen tablets scattered over six collections arrived during the 1880s, and in 1958 three more fragments were added.12 The acquisition of the bulk of the collection thus took place in the period during which first George Smith (1876) and then Hormuzd Rassam (1879–1882) were active for the British Museum in Iraq.13 The largest collection is SH 81-7-6 with 140 tablets and fragments belonging to the corpus of the Astronomical Diaries, followed by Sp. ii with 123 and 81-6-25 with

8 9 10 11

12 13

This information was kindly supplied to me by Prof. F. Joannès (Email, 7.12.2016). This fragment appears in adart ii: 66 erroneously as mnb 1884. For an in-depth investigation of the Egibi archive (including editions of most texts) see Wunsch (1993) and (2000); tcl 9 124 is edited in Hackl, Jursa and Schmidl (2014: No. 31). Clancier (2009: 187–190) provides a succinct introduction to the system of inventory and tablet numbering in the British Museum. The prefix 82-7-4 for example means that the tablets in question were registered on 4 July 1882 in the British Museum. The siglum Rm refers to H. Rassam as buyer of the tablets; SH and Sp. Indicated the antiquities’ dealers from whom the tablets were acquired, J. Shemtob and Messrs. Spartoli respectively. The collections in question are 82-9-18 (one fragment), 83-6-30 (five fragments), 842-11 (five fragments), 88-4-19 (one fragment), 88-5-12 (two fragments) and 89-4-26 (one fragment). For the latter see the detailed account of Clancier (2009: 123–143).

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Pirngruber

Table 6.1 Collection profile of the ADs according to adart volumes i–iii

Collection

Total number adart i of fragments

adart ii

adart iii

St 76-11-17 S+ 76-11-17 S.76-11-17 76-11-17 Rm 77-2-22 77-11-14 78-5-31 78-10-15 Sp. Sp.ii Rm 3 Rm 4 Sp.iii 80-6-17 80-12-10 81-2-1 81-4-28 81-6-25 81-7-6 SH.81-7-6 81-11-3 82-7-4 82-9-18 83-6-30 84-2-11 88-4-19 88-5-12 89-4-26 1958-4-12x Totals (percent)

7 45 2 1 31 5 6 2 4 42 123 1 14 52 36 1 14 21 91 16 140 12 25 1 5 5 1 2 1 3 705 (100)

0 21 0 1 16 1 2 2 0 14 47 1 5 21 11 0 8 10 43 5 51 2 17 1 3 0 0 1 0 1 284 (40.28)

0 0 0 0 9 0 3 0 4 24 47 0 6 23 6 1 1 8 39 10 73 5 1 0 0 5 0 0 1 1 267 (37.88)

7 24 2 0 6 0 1 0 0 4 29 0 3 8 19 0 5 3 9 1 16 5 7 0 2 0 1 1 0 1 154 (21.84)

191

The Museum Context of the Astronomical Diaries Table 6.2 Most relevant collections for adart, volumes i–iii

Volume (number Collection Tablets of fragments) (percent) adart i (154) adart ii (284) adart iii (267)

Collection Tablets (percent)

76-11-17 33 (21.43%) Sp. ii SH 81-7-6 51 (18%) 81-6-25 SH 81-7-6 73 (27.3%) 81-6-25

Collection Tablets (percent)

29 (18.8%) 80-6-17 47 (16.5%) Sp. ii 47 (17.6%) Sp. ii

19 (12.3%) 43 (15.1%) 39 (14.6%)

90. In a­ ddition, the 76-11-17 collections14 and Sp. iii contribute more than fifty fragments and tablets each (55 and 52 respectively). When one looks at how the texts contained in these collections are distributed over the first three volumes of a­ dart — i.e., their chronological distribution — interesting patterns emerge: (see Table 6.2). The second and third volumes of adart, which contain Diaries from 261 to 61 bce, share a similar acquisition profile in that the majority of texts included in them derive from the same three collections. In both volumes, the collection SH 81-7-6 contributes the most fragments, followed by 81-6-25 and Sp. ii (dating to 79-8-2). A peculiarity of adart iii (Diaries from 164 to 61 bce) is that the tablets contained in this volume began to arrive at the British Museum in significant numbers only with the Spartoli acquisitions (Sp. and Sp. ii) of 1879, and about half of the fragments arrived in or after 1881. Moreover, the volume does not contain a single fragment from the various 76-11-17 acquisitions. This chronological profile is also paralleled by the Goal Year Texts contained in adart vi (assuming that the goal year corresponds to the date of the text’s writing): the latest goal year of a text coming from a 76-11-17 collection (total: fourteen) dates to SE 134 = 178/177 bce. The earlier Diaries published in adart i, on the other hand, tend more often to come from earlier collections, especially 76-11-17, and only rarely from either SH 81-7-6 or 81-6-25. Indeed, with the arrival of the collection 80-6-17, more than three quarters of the tablets gathered in this volume had arrived in the British Museum. All in all, there seems therefore to be a tendency for chronologically earlier Diaries to have arrived in the British Museum at an earlier date and, conversely, for the late tablets of the Parthian period to have reached the museum at a later date. This peculiar pattern may well be down to pure chance. However, it 14 In adart, these appear as St 76-11-17 (7 tablets), S+ 76-11-17 (45 tablets), S. 76-11-17 (2 tablets) and 76-11-17 (1 tablet).

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Pirngruber

may be significant that tablets which we expect to have been written at around the same time (i.e. Diaries recording adjacent time periods) also tend to show up in the same museum collections. A more fine-grained rearrangement of the data modifies this picture to some extent, but confirms the existence of distinct nuclei within the various collections. In Figures 6.1 and 6.2 below, I have 80 70 60 50 40 30 20 10 0

400–330 329–300 299–276 276–251 250–226 225–200 200–176 76-11-17

Sp.II

SH 81-7-6

175–151

Sp.III

150–126

125–101

100–62

150–126 125–101

100–62

81-6-25

Figure 6.1 Composition of the corpus (absolute numbers) 100% 90% 80% 70% 60% 50% 40% 30% 20% 10% 0%

400–330 329–300 299–276 276–251 250–226 225–200 200–176 175–151 76-11-17

Sp.II

SH 85-7-6

Figure 6.2 Composition of the corpus (percentages)

Sp.III

81-6-25

The Museum Context of the Astronomical Diaries

193

divided the time span covered by the Diaries into quarter centuries for the well documented third and second centuries bce and into longer units for the fourth and first centuries.15 The figures document the contributions of the five collections that are most important for the Astronomical Diaries, 76-11-17, Sp. ii and iii, SH 81-7-6 and 81-6-25, to the overall corpus both in absolute numbers (Figure 6.1) and in percentage figures (Figure 6.2). Figures 6.1 and 6.2 show that the 76-11-17 collection, which George Smith acquired in Baghdad in 1876 from the antiquities dealer Marini, accounts for ­almost a third of all Diaries dating from before 250 bce, but for only a handful of tablets thereafter, with a second peak (in absolute numbers only) in the quarter century between 200 and 176 bce. This large collection, comprising more than 2,600 tablets, consists mainly of texts from the Egibi archive – indeed, it contains the lion’s share of this largest of all private archives from the Neo-Babylonian period. In addition to the Diaries, 76-11-17 also contains a significant number of fragments belonging to the Hellenistic Chronicle series (bchp Nos. 5–10 and 15), as well as ABC No. 9 which dates to the reign of Artaxerxes iii.16 Of these, bchp Nos. 5, 6, 7 and 8 deal with the activities of Antiochus i in Babylon in his capacity as crown prince (mār šarri) during the 280s bce, and bchp No. 9 is an account of the death of Seleucus i. The chronological distribution of these texts thus fits very well with that of the Diaries contained in the collection. bchp No. 10 treats royal successions during the third century bce and bchp No. 15 dates to the later Seleucid period, probably the reign of Antiochus v. The same chronological distribution also applies to the lunar and planetary texts of adart v: six out of eight dated texts from this collection belong to the fourth and third centuries bce, with the latest text (adart v No. 39) dating to year -218. The Goal Year Texts published in adart vi from the 76-11-17 collection on the other hand date roughly to the period between 235 and 175 bce (again on the assumption that the goal year reflects the date of writing): again no text falls into the temporal range of adart iii. In addition to Diaries and Chronicles, there is a handful of further texts in collection 76-11-17 belonging

15

I have divided the relatively sparsely covered fourth century into two periods only, corresponding to the late Achaemenid period (400–330 bce) and the early Hellenistic period (329–300 bce). The latest known Astronomical Diary dates to -61. Consequently, there is only one period for the first century bce. 16 See http://www.livius.org/babylonia.html for a preliminary edition of these texts by R. van der Spek and I. Finkel (last accessed 24.03. 2017). For a detailed tabulation of the collection numbers of the Chronicles see Waerzeggers (2012: 288, Table 1).

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to the Esagila ‘library’. These include a few literary and religious texts, among them fragments of the Gilgamesh Epic and of Ludlul bēl nēmeqi.17 Tablets from collection 81-6-25, acquired by the British Museum from Messrs. Spartoli & Co., are especially prominent in the half-century between 275 and 226 bce, when they account for more than half of all surviving Astronomical Diaries. This collection is still important for the second and first centuries bce – indeed, the pertinent tablets published in adart v and vi are distributed over the whole chronological range for which Astronomical Diaries are extant – but neither in absolute numbers nor in terms of the percentage of extant texts does it contribute to the total corpus in a way that is comparable to the earlier period. This collection comprises some 880 tablets (including about 150 from Sippar), of which the most important subgroup consists of Astronomical Diaries and other astronomical (and astrological) tablets, as well as several other texts which probably belong to the Esagila. Additionally, a significant number of tablets from the Egibi archive (more than 50 overall) is found in this collection. The composition of collections Sp. ii and iii and 80-6-17 is quite similar to that of 81-6-25 in that they mainly contain tablets associated with the Esagila ‘library’, with a few legal documents and letters from the Egibi archive interspersed, albeit not as prominently as was the case in 81-6-25. Finally, SH 81-7-6 is especially relevant for the second and first centuries bce, when it constitutes the most important source for Astronomical Diaries. The collection comprises ca. 740 tablets, and consists exclusively of tablets associated with the ‘library’ of the Esagila: Astronomical Diaries and other astronomical and astrological texts (such as tablets belonging to the series Enūma Anu Enlil) feature with particular prominence. There is no archival material from the Egibi family found in this collection, and overall only few business documents. The collections just discussed, with the exception of SH 81-7-6, also contain the remnants of a few ‘private archives’ of the Seleucid and Parthian periods. The Abu-ul-īde archive dates mainly from the 270s to the late 250s bce, and the most important collection is 76-11-17, which yields more than a quarter of the archive’s texts. The nine tablets of the Astrologers’ archive, which date roughly to the second half of the second century bce, are scattered over a wide array of collections, with the earliest acquisition from the 78-10-15 collection. Finally, the very late Rahimesu archive from the late second/early first century bce is most prominently attested in 81-6-25, while the earliest collection yielding

17

Until the publication of the museum catalogue, see conveniently Annex B, ‘L’Esagil’ in Clancier (2009: 409–470), also for the collections discussed subsequently; see also ibid., 190–195.

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195

texts from this archive is 78-7-30.18 These texts thus confirm the tantalising pattern obtained concerning the 76-11-17 collection, which tends to contain on the one hand material dating to the first half of the third century bce and on the other no texts from after ca. 160 bce. 3 Conclusions The Astronomical Diaries appeared on the antiquities market at quite an early point in time, in 1876. They are usually intermingled in collections with tablets from the Egibi archive, particularly in the 76-11-17 collections acquired by George Smith in Baghdad, which contain the lion’s share of the Egibi archive. Although they appeared on the market together, it is highly unlikely that there was any kind of archival relationship between these two text groups in antiquity. Rather, these collections consisted of two distinct tablet groups, the Egibi archive and the Esagila ‘library’, in unequal proportions, the latter dominating in all collections except the first one (76-11-17).19 Wunsch’s remark (2000: 2) that there were some six hundred tablets available on the antiquities market in addition to those bought by Smith in 1876 seems relevant here: the later collections, especially 81-6-25 but also the French mnb tablets, show a similar makeup to those acquired by Smith. These tablets seem to have been available for quite some time on the antiquities market before finding their way into the museums. Just two collections, 76-11-17 and 81-6-25, account for almost two thirds of all Astronomical Diaries in the period between 300 and 225 bce, while afterwards about the same percentage of tablets comes from the Sp. ii and SH 81-7-6 ­collections. For the former collections in particular, a pattern whereby Diaries dating to roughly the same period (or rather, to be precise, tablets recording events from roughly the same period) tend to show up in the same ­museum context emerges. There is not a single fragment of the 76-11-17 ­collections which dates to the Parthian period or even to the final years of Seleucid rule over Babylonia. This distribution of the tablets is also confirmed by the few private archives of the late period that are found in these collections. ­Adopting 18

19

These archives are discussed extensively by Hackl (2013: 445–456 (Abu-ul-īde; for which see also Jursa (2006)), 461–471 (Astrologers’ archive) and 472–475 (Rahimesu archive)); and compare van der Spek (1998) and Hackl (2016) for additional texts. Hackl provides summary tables listing all pertinent tablets for each archive and an overview of earlier literature dealing with these texts. For the location of the original findspots of the tablets pertaining to the Esagila ‘library’ see Clancier (2009: 204–205 and 212–213).

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the definition of Eleanor Robson (2008: 221), who characterises the collections as “coherent lots, in which tablets from larger archives remained more or less clustered”,20 one is inclined to think that such diachronic patterns are not the result of pure chance and that they reflect the ancient arrangement of the tablets in their library context. It is tempting to conclude that Astronomical Diaries were originally filed according to chronological criteria, but unfortunately, a museum-archaeological approach does not allow us to corroborate this further. References Beaulieu, P.-A., 2006, “De l’Esagil au Mouseion: l’organisation de la recherché scientifique au IVe siècle avant J.-C.”, in P. Briant and F. Joannès (eds), La transition entre l’empire achéménide et les royaumes hellénistiques (vers 350–300 bc) (Paris: De Boccard), 17–36. Clancier, P., 2009, Les bibliothèques en Babylonie dans la deuxième moitié du Ier millènaire av. J.-C. (Münster: Ugarit-Verlag). Durand, J.-M., 1981, Textes babyloniens d’époque récente (Paris: Éditions A.D.P.F.). Hackl, J., 2013, Materialien zur Urkundenlehre und Archivkunde der spätzeitlichen Texte aus Nordbabylonien, 2 volumes (PhD thesis, University of Vienna). Hackl, J., 2016, “New Additions to the Raḫimesu Archive: Parthian Texts from the British Museum and the World Museum Liverpool”, in K. Kleber and R. Pirngruber (eds), Silver, Money and Credit. A Tribute to Robartus J. van der Spek on the Occasion of his 65th Birthday on 18th September 2014 (Leiden: Nederlands Instituut voor het Nabije Oosten), 87–106. Hackl, J., M. Jursa and M. Schmidl, 2014, Spätbabylonische Privatbriefe. Mit Beiträgen von K. Wagensommer (Münster: Ugarit-Verlag). Joannès, F., 1982, Textes économiques de la Babylonie récente (Paris: Éditions Recherche sur les civilisations). Jursa, M., 2006, “Agricultural Managing, Tax Farming, and Banking: Aspects of Entrepreneurial Activity in Babylonia in the Late Achaemenid and Hellenistic Periods”, in P. Briant and F. Joannès (eds), La transition entre l’empire achéménide et les royaumes hellénistiques (vers 350–300 bc) (Paris: De Boccard), 137–222.

20

As she points out (loc. cit.), just like the Diaries, mathematical tablets show a tendency to appear in the same collections: three quarters of all mathematical tablets were found in only two collections, Sp. ii and 80-6-17.

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Leichty, E., 1986, Catalogue of the Babylonian Tablets in the British Museum, Volume vi: Tablets from Sippar. With an introduction by J.E. Reade (London: The Trustees of the British Museum). Mitsuma, Y., 2015, “From Preliminary Diaries to Short Diaries: the First and Second Steps in the Compilation Process of the Late Babylonian Astronomical Diaries”, SCIAMUS: Sources and Commentaries in Exact Sciences 16, 53–73. Pirngruber, R., 2013, “The Historical Sections of the Astronomical Diaries in Context: Developments in a Late Babylonian Scientific Text Corpus”, Iraq 75, 197–210. Pirngruber, R., forthcoming, “The Representation and Structuring of Observational Data: on the Formal Structure of the Astronomical Diaries”, in S. Maul and L. Wilhelmi (eds), Darstellung,, Gestaltung und Ordnung von Keilschrifttexten. Erste Schritte auf dem Weg zu einer Phänomenologie. Kongressband des IWH-Symposiums, 19.-20. Mai 2014. (Berlin, Boston and Munich: De Gruyter). Robson, E., 2008, Mathematics in Ancient Iraq (Princeton: Princeton University Press). van der Spek, R.J., 1998, “Cuneiform Documents on Parthian History: the Rahimesu Archive. Materials for the Study of the Standard of Living”, in J. Wiesehöfer (ed.): Das Partherreich und seine Zeugnisse (Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag), 205–258. Ungnad, A., 1959/60, “Neubabylonische Privaturkunden aus der Sammlung Amherst”, Archiv für Orientforschung 19, 74–82. Van Driel, G., 1992, “Neo-Babylonian Texts from Borsippa”, Bibliotheca Orientalis 49, 28–50. Waerzeggers, C., 2003/04, “The Babylonian Revolts against Xerxes and the ‘End of Archives’”, Archiv für Orientforschung 50, 150–173. Waerzeggers, C., 2005, “The Dispersal History of the Borsippa Archives”, in H.D. Baker and M. Jursa (eds), Approaching the Babylonian Economy. Proceedings of the START Project Symposium held in Vienna, 1–3 July 2004 (Münster: Ugarit-Verlag), 343–363. Waerzeggers, C., 2012, “The Babylonian Chronicles: Classification and Provenance”, Journal of Near Eastern Studies 71, 285–298. Wunsch, C., 1993, Die Urkunde des babylonischen Geschäftsmannes Iddin-Marduk. Zum Handel mit Naturalien im 6. Jahrhundert v. Chr. (Groningen: Styx). Wunsch, C., 2000, Das Egibi-Archiv i. Die Felder und Gärten. CM 20A and B (Groningen: Styx).

Chapter 7

From Babylon to Baḫtar: the Geography of the Astronomical Diaries Kathryn Stevens The heavens as we encounter them in the Astronomical Diaries are a crowded yet precisely charted space. The planets glide from one zodiac sign to the next; the background constellations slowly revolve, rising and falling below the horizon as the months progress. Even more unpredictable or ephemeral phenomena are localised and measured — the brief appearance of a rainbow; the exact progress of the eclipse shadow across the face of the moon. Yet the terrestrial geography of the Diaries looks very different. In contrast to the even and detailed coverage of celestial space, the Diaries’ references to places on earth over the 500 years in which they were written spotlight Babylon as the constant focus of interest, Babylonia as a slightly dimmer but frequently mentioned hinterland, and the rest of the world as a dark expanse with occasional flickers of activity: a battle in Elam; an expedition to Egypt; a rare crossing of the Mediterranean. This reflects the obvious fact that the Diaries are, as their first editors observed, very Babylon-centred:1 out of almost 950 references to peoples and places in the surviving Diaries, nearly half (423) are to Babylon, its inhabitants, or its internal topography (Table 7.1).2 Table 7.1

Toponymic and ethnic references in the Diaries by geographical scope

Geographical scope Number of references Percentage of total references Babylon Babylonia External Total

423 363 154 940

45 39 16

1 Sachs and Hunger (1988: 36). 2 ‘Reference’ here means each occurrence of a toponym or ethnic in the Diaries. The figures in this chapter differ from those of Tuplin (this volume) since the data are not divided by Diary entries; instead each instance of a toponym is included as a distinct reference even where r­ epeated references are made to the same place in a report of a single event. This is

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���9 | doi:10.1163/9789004397767_009

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Within and beyond the city walls, however, the world over which the Diaries’ authors were keeping watch changed greatly during the five centuries for which the “longest-running data collection project in world history” was active.3 During this time, Babylon was part of four different empires, each with a different geopolitical centre of gravity: the Neo-Babylonian empire, with Babylon at its heart; the Achaemenid empire, stretching east and west from its core on the Iranian plateau; the Seleucid empire, gradually shrinking from the trans-Asian dominion left by Alexander to a west-facing kingdom centred on Syria; and finally the Parthian empire, which in the period covered by the Diaries was oriented firmly east of Mesopotamia. The political and socio-­cultural shifts of these imperial transitions are visible even in the Diaries’ selective records of terrestrial events. Imperial titles and offices appear and disappear, like that of satrap (rendered with Akkadian muma”iru), attested intermittently from the 360s onwards, or the “general who is above the four generals” who features first in the late Seleucid period and more frequently under the Parthians.4 Differing imperial relationships with Babylon and its elites are visible in the changing pattern of royal visits and communications.5 New cultural groups and institutions are introduced, like the theatre and the politai, although the Diaries’ laconic style usually precludes further insight into the effects of these changes or how they were perceived locally.6 The Diaries’ monthly reports of historical events have been intensively studied for the information they preserve about Babylonia’s history during the later first millennium bce.7 In contrast, the geography of the texts has not been partly with the aim of capturing more precisely the geographical ‘texture’ of the texts and how this shifts over time, and partly because it is often difficult to separate out distinct items of information within the historical sections of the Diaries; the broken state of the tablets at times makes it impossible to determine whether a second reference to the same toponym in a monthly summary is part of one report or the next. 3 Robson (2007: 61). 4 Satrap: adart i Nos. -366A col ii. 8 (office of satrap), -273B rev. 30’, 31’, 34’, 36’; -261C rev. 9’; adart iii Nos. -158B 17’, 22’; -137D rev. 22’; -133B obv. 18’, 22’, 25’; -132B obv. 28; -129A1 obv. 6’; -129A2 obv. 16’, rev. 14’, 17’; -125A obv. 15; -124A rev. 4’, 18’; -124B obv. 4’; -112 obv. 14; -111B rev. 8’; -109A obv. 13’; -109B obv. 7’; -86A obv. 8’. “General who is above the four generals”: adart iii Nos. -155A rev. 13; -152 rev. 14’; -149B rev. 11’; -140A rev. 8’; -140C obv. 37, rev. 31’; -137A rev. 4’; -137C rev. 16’; -136B obv. 12’; -134B rev. 9’; -132B rev. 25; -126B rev. 2’, 9’; -119A2 obv. 16’; -119C obv. 12’; -118A rev. 21’. On this office see Mitsuma (2007). 5 On royal visits, see Visscher (this volume). 6 On the theatre, see below n.42; on the polis and politai, see now Clancier (2017), who discusses the previous historiography and competing theories about the introduction of the polis before introducing a new approach. 7 See e.g. Geller (1990); Van der Spek (1993); Van der Spek (1997); Van der Spek (1998); Boiy (2004: 99–192); Hunger and Van der Spek (2006). The market exchange rates too have been

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subjected to systematic analysis, perhaps because of the restricted range of places mentioned and the preponderance of references to Babylon. Despite these limiting factors, however, a systematic study of the Diaries’ references to peoples and places offers unique insight into their authors’ engagement with the world — near and far, human and natural — and how this changed during the later first millennium. While most cuneiform scholarly texts from this period offer few geographical articulations or depict past worlds, the Diaries ­engage directly with contemporary peoples and places (even if they sometimes refer to them by archaising names).8 This, combined with the long timespan over which the texts were written, provides us with a rare opportunity to study Babylonian scholars’ intellectual engagement with their own city, its neighbours, and the wider world. We cannot, of course, take the Diaries as a transparent window onto Babylonian geographical horizons or interests. The events reported outside Babylonia are relatively few, and we know from administrative texts that more detailed geographical knowledge was available than what is visible from the Diaries. Nor can we undertake very fine-grained diachronic analysis, due to the unevenness of both what was recorded and what was preserved: an exceptionally detailed historical section in one monthly summary can inject multiple geographical references into what is otherwise several years of silence, skewing any attempt at tracking patterns of reference over a short timespan. But at a more overarching level — empire to empire, century to century, decade to decade — a diachronic study of the places mentioned in the Diaries yields meaningful results. This chapter argues that the shifting pattern of toponymic and ethnic references in the Diaries reveals changes in intellectual geographies which track ­political developments and reflect Babylon’s relationship with different imperial centres, the broader Near East, and the other cities of Mesopotamia. The distribution of geographical references and the way in which they are framed also sheds new light on questions regarding the composition and purposes well studied: see now Van der Spek (2014), Monerie (2017) and Pirngruber (2017) (also Ossendrijver, this volume on the commodity rates in the Diaries and market predictions). Among older works, see Slotsky (1997) and the papers by Slotsky and Vargyas in Andreau and Descat (1997) (with the important review of Van der Spek and Mandemakers (2003)); Aperghis (2004). 8 For instance, the geographical schema of the omen series Enūma Anu Enlil remained unchanged throughout the first millennium (although we know from the Neo-Assyrian scholarly letters that the scribes reinterpreted obsolete place names to correspond to current political formations): see further Rochberg-Halton (1988) chap. 4. On consciously archaising geography in cuneiform scholarly texts and its ideological functions, see Joannès (1997); Kuhrt (2002) (Greece and Greeks); Hallo (1971); Hallo (2004) (Gutium).

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of the Diaries and the observational programme that underlies them. The ­changing distribution of foreign and regional place-names may reflect changes to the diarists’ access to information about events beyond the city, but also highlights the selectivity with which terrestrial events were recorded. Meanwhile, at the local level, the pattern of references to locations within Babylon itself informs us not only about the city’s actual topography, but also about the places that the diarists deemed most significant for their purposes, yielding further insight into what those purposes were. Finally, the peculiar topographical distribution of one type of event within the city may afford an answer to a rather more pragmatic question: where did the scholars whose observations form the bulk of the Diaries’ contents “keep the watch”? 1

The Diaries’ World

To readers used to the broad geographical coverage and rich spatial texture of other ancient historiographical traditions, especially those of Greece and Rome, the terrestrial reports of the Diaries may seem both myopic and barren. As we have already noted, geographically they are firmly centred on Babylon: only 25 places beyond the region are mentioned in the entire corpus, and although most of Babylonia’s major settlements feature at some point, none apart from Seleucia on Tigris (88) attracts more than a handful of references, compared with over 400 to Babylon or its internal topography.9 Moreover, all the references to places outside Babylonia are to settlements or entire regions: Darius’ troops withdraw to “the land of the Guti” after the battle of Gaugamela; in 273 bce Antiochus I engages the Ptolemaic forces in “Beyond-the-River” (Syria); there is famine in Antioch “by the Sea” (Antioch on the Orontes) in 150 bce, and in Susa in 138.10 Even within Babylonia, we have little to no sense of the topography of places outside Babylon: buildings and structures in other cities are almost never mentioned, with the exception of the Ezida temple in Borsippa (which had a particularly close relationship with Babylon and Esagila), and a solitary reference to the apadana of Seleucia on Tigris.11 Indeed, Christopher Tuplin states in his chapter that the Diaries “are not in the business of evoking a strong sense of place”.12 It is more accurate, perhaps, 9 10

Cf. Tuplin, this volume, pp. 89–90. Land of the Guti: adart i No. -330 obv. 18’; Beyond-the-river: adart i No. -273B rev. 29’–30’; Antioch: adart iii No. -149A rev. 3’–4’; Susa: adart iii No. -137A rev. 7’. 11 Ezida: adart ii No. -187A rev. 13’; adart iii Nos. -132 B obv. 29, rev. 31’, left edge 3, upper edge 2; -105A obv. 16, rev. 24. apadana: adart iii No. -86B 11’. 12 Tuplin, this volume, pp. 88–9.

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to say that the Diaries do not evoke a strong sense of landscape or space. Their reports of terrestrial events are usually devoid of details about the physical environment: battles, troop movements and royal journeys tend to be depicted in terms of points and lines against an undifferentiated background. Kings and their representatives shuttle between Babylon and Seleucia on the Tigris; elephants are shipped from Bactria to Babylon to “Beyond-the-River” (i.e. Syria); messages and messengers make their way from distant parts of the empire to Seleucia and Babylon, but there is little sense of their journey or the landscapes they traverse en route.13 Even in longer narratives, time and sequence are prioritised over space. For instance, in December 138 bce we read that on the 6th of Ṭebētu “an enemy force fell on Nippur; they took captives, killed people, carried off spoil”;14 the precise chronology and sequence of events are detailed, but the physical spaces in which these brutal acts took place are left to the reader’s imagination — or, perhaps, left out as irrelevant. Yet the diarists’ persistent tendency to provide locations for the events they report suggests that they do have a strong sense of place, in the sense of position in space. It is important to them to record, for example, that the Persian forces did not just flee at Gaugamela, but withdrew to Gutium; that Stratonice I died in Sardis; that the politai and Babylonians fought each other in 78 bce near the Nabû-ša-ḫarê temple.15 Moreover, it is the human geography which seems most salient; most of the geographical or topographical references in the Diaries are to physical or conceptual structures created by humans: temples, walls, canals, cities and political or ethnic divisions of the world. Natural landscape features such as mountains or rivers tend to appear only as identifying information for human settlements (cities and other structures located on the Euphrates, Tigris or Mediterranean coast) or when the challenges of the terrain are at issue: fighting in the mountainous regions of northern Babylonia; fugitives scattering into the reed marshes of the south.16 Nor is the human geography of the Diaries’ world neutral in value terms. Like other Late Babylonian scholarly texts, the Diaries utilise archaic ­toponyms 13 14 15 16

Journeys between Babylon and Seleucia: Tuplin, this volume, pp. 90–1; elephants: adart i No. -273B rev. 31’; messages/messengers: adart i No. -273B rev. 34’–35’ (Sardis – Seleucia – Babylon); adart iii No. -124B rev. 12’–13’, 17’–18’ (Elam to Babylon). adart iii No. -137D rev. 24. adart i No. -330A obv. 18’; adart ii No. -253 A1 obv. 10–11 (=B1 obv. 6); adart iii No. -77B rev. 16’. Difficult mountainous terrain: adart iii No. -118A rev. 21 (cf. also adart i No. -366A col. ii. 4–6 and adart iii No. -77B rev. 13’–14’, where fighting takes place in mountains without explicit comments); scattering in the reed marshes: adart iii No. -137D 12’ (fragmentary context, but apparently Babylonians fleeing Elamites).

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and ethnics to refer to external regions (in contrast to the up-to-date references of contemporary administrative documents) in a way which seems deliberate and ideologically loaded.17 One example is Gutium, which originally denoted a kingdom in the central Zagros and was extended over time so that in the Hellenistic and Parthian Diaries it is used to refer to regions further east of Babylonia.18 The Gutians were a nomadic people who in the late third millennium conquered southern Babylonia and left a negative and lasting impression: ‘Gutians’ became paradigmatic outsiders and barbarians in Sumerian and Akkadian literary texts, and Gutium appears as a region whose fortunes are usually opposed to that of Akkad in the omens of Enūma Anu Enlil. Given the ideological freight of the term, its use to refer to the place where Darius’ troops fled after their defeat at the hands of “the king of the world”, Alexander, and later to hostile regions where Parthian kings did battle seems pointed. A slightly more ambiguous case is Meluḫḫa. In earlier first-millennium texts this term referred to the kingdom of Kush, south of Egypt proper (known as Miṣir). However, in the Diaries the distinction between the two seems to be abandoned after the early third century: the last reference to Miṣir is in 274 bce, after which point Meluḫḫa alone is used for the whole of Egypt.19 Although the small number of references makes it impossible to be certain, it is tempting to connect this with Ptolemy ii’s victory over the Kushites and expansion into Nubia in the 270s which made a political distinction between the two areas obsolete. The choice to use Meluḫḫa rather than Miṣir to refer to Ptolemaic Egypt may again have been governed by ideological factors: while Miṣir, as a vassal/ ally of the Assyrians against Babylonia in the seventh century (as recorded in the Chronicle of Nabopolassar and the fall of the Assyrian Empire, abc 3) may have retained some negative overtones, the hostile and expansionist kingdom of Meluḫḫa to the south, bête noire of the Assyrians, might have seemed the more apposite term for the state which became the main adversary of Babylonia’s Seleucid rulers. The world beyond Babylonia as presented in the Diaries, therefore, is not simply a neutral canvas on which their authors plotted events, but an ideologically coloured patchwork of regions whose names were resonant with the enmities, triumphs and defeats of centuries past. Finally, the Diaries also evince a strong implicit hierarchy of place, or, perhaps better, their selection of events is spatially differentiated. There are clear 17

On the deliberate and ideologically pointed archaism of the Diaries and other Akkadian texts of the Late Babylonian period, see Joannès (1997); Stevens (2019: Ch. 6). 18 On Gutium and the Gutians, see Hallo (1971); Hallo (2004); Foster (2013). 19 Miṣir: adart i No. -273B [XII] rev. 29’–30’ (Ptolemaic retreat in the First Syrian War). Meluḫḫa: adart ii No. -168A v 14’ (Antiochus IV’s victory in Egypt); adart iii No. -144 (Demetrius ii’s victory in Egypt).

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patterns in the geographical extension with which different types of event are recorded, particularly in the pre-Parthian Diaries. Regions beyond Babylonia are mentioned with regard to a very restricted range of events, all of which centre on the ruler: movements and military engagements of the king or his representatives, forces and resources; and royal deaths. Within Babylonia, one may add to these categories large-scale disruptions to the life of ‘the land’ by warfare, disease, famine or other natural catastrophes; royal communications; and ominous animal births or behaviour. Inside Babylon itself, the Diaries additionally report positive or disruptive action in the religious sphere, including the performance or funding of rituals by rulers and the punishment of sacrilege.20 Even within the city, not all types of location are equally relevant for all types of event: for example, the city quarters are only mentioned in connection with lightning strikes, and as we will see below, the diarists’ interest in religious matters does not embrace all the city’s temples. These patterns suggest that the distance from Babylon and the location and type of space (e.g. natural/ human; region/settlement) were selection criteria used by the diarists in determining the relevance of terrestrial events (and hence the places in which they occurred) for inclusion or exclusion. The reasons behind this patterning are not transparent from the texts, although several links to the divinatory corpora make it tempting to suggest a connection. We see in the Diaries the same drive to pinpoint the precise location or trajectory of terrestrial phenomena as in Mesopotamian divinatory texts; the event categories recorded are close to those which feature in omen protases (abnormal births or other unusual terrestrial phenomena) or apodoses (natural catastrophe, war, royal action); and the Diaries use archaic geographical divisions of the world which occur in the omen corpora (Gutium, Elam, Akkad, Subartu). There is also a correlation between the variable geographical scope of the Diaries’ reports and that of the omen series: terrestrial events which feature in omen protases tend to be observed locally or regionally, just as in the Diaries, while the apodoses of all types of omen series include military engagements and royal fortunes beyond the heartland. In other words, a sheep born with two heads in Sardis would not be relevant for the health of the land, but a defeat of Babylonian forces near Sardis might well have been presaged by an ominous phenomenon observed in Babylonia. As with other possible connections to divination, this must remain speculative. At all events, we may say that, while the world the Diaries evoke is not 20

In the Parthian Diaries, where the historical sections become fuller, a wider range of events within Babylonia is reported, but the differentiated geographical extension of different event types is maintained.

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one rich in sensory descriptions of landscapes, buildings or structures, it is one which displays a high degree of spatial ordering and in which there is a strong sense of the relative importance and ideological resonances of particular locations. Understanding this geographical patterning also enables us to detect significant changes in the range of places and peoples mentioned, and hence to use the Diaries as an index for tracking broader intellectual and political change. The remainder of this chapter seeks to do just that, examining first references to external regions, and then to places within Babylonia and finally Babylon itself. 2

Shifting Imperial Geographies: the World beyond Babylonia

As we have seen, the outside world viewed from the Astronomical Diaries is not very densely populated or locally differentiated: only 25 external places or peoples are mentioned, and most of these references are at the regional level rather than to specific cities. The use of old toponyms to refer to redefined areas or even entirely new regions also sometimes makes it hard to tell exactly which contemporary area is meant; the precise boundaries of Gutium, Media and Elam, for example, are difficult to discern. Further, since few Diaries survive from the sixth and fifth centuries bce, it is not possible to study the geography of the Neo-Babylonian and early Achaemenid texts in a systematic way. Yet despite these difficulties, a diachronic examination of the places outside Babylonia attested in Diaries from the late fifth century onwards suggests shifts in the geographical frame of reference which reflect changing imperial structures on the ground. The surviving Diaries from 420 to 331 bce contain 52 geographical or topographic references. As is typical, the majority (37) are to places within Babylonia, but the remainder capture the shape of the late Persian empire, centred on the Iranian plateau but reaching to the Mediterranean (Fig. 7.1). The most frequently mentioned place outside Babylonia is, unsurprisingly, Susa, which together with references to Razaundu and Gutium conveys the empire’s Iranian centre of gravity.21 Meanwhile, a cluster of references to the Levantine 21

The location of Razaundu is disputed. As Stolper (1994: 239) observes, based on the list of cities in Ptol. Geog. 6.2.12 it must be in Media. Van der Spek (1998: 249–253), followed by Briant (bha ii: 91 with n.174) equated it with the territory of the Cadusians to the north near the Caspian Sea, but Ptolemy mentions the Cadusian cities in 6.2.2, while Razaundu is listed among the πόλεις…καὶ κῶμαι μεσόγειοι τῆς Μηδίας from 6.8.8 following, suggesting a more central location. In either case, we are dealing with a place in or near the heartland of the Persian empire.

700 km

cyprus

Salamis

Sippar

Babylon Borsippa babylonia

Pallukatu

mesopotamia

Susa

gutium

Razaundu?

Figure 7.1 Places and peoples mentioned in Late Achaemenid Diaries (420–331 bce) Note: In the two references to ‘Ionia’ or ‘Ionians’, one in the entry relating to Salamis in 382 bce and the other in the description of events following Alexander’s conquest in 331 bce, it is very unclear where the geographical marker should be located; it is placed in western Asia Minor on the map, but likely the area meant was further east and/or less well defined. copyright K. Stevens

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N

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coast and Aegean in the 380s and 340s takes us to the empire’s increasingly problematic western frontier. After Alexander’s conquest, however, the Diaries’ frame of reference shifts to reflect a new imperial geography. The overall map of places mentioned in the Hellenistic Diaries (330–141 bce) stretches from Ḫana (Macedon) in the west to Bactria in the east, neatly delineating the furthest points of Hellenistic imperialism (Fig. 7.2).22 Macedonian centres of power now predominate among the external references — in the early years Ḫana, reflecting Macedon’s status as homeland and prize for the Successors; later Antioch, the Seleucid capital in the west — while the appearance of Egypt and Syria (“Beyond-the-river”, Akk. Eber-nāri) reflects the recurrent hostilities between the Seleucids and Ptolemies which were a defining feature of the third and second centuries. The Diaries from the Parthian period (141–61 bce) show us a different imperial world again (Fig. 7.3). With the exception of a possible reference to Tyre (Akk. Ṣurru may also be a location within Mesopotamia), no places west of the Euphrates appear here, reflecting the swing of imperial gravity back to the east with Babylonia’s new Iranian rulers. The lion’s share of external references in this period go to the Parthian heartland in Media, and Elam, where the Elymaean dynasty walked the tightrope between independent rulers and Parthian subordinates and frequently exercised their autonomy by invading Babylonia. In one way all this seems rather trivial: if these texts are interested in kings then they will automatically reflect the changing boundaries of their domains. A few references to Macedon or Bactria do not show us any radical change in the outlook of the diarists triggered by the series of imperial conquests. Quite the opposite, in fact. The external events that are reported in these places are restricted to the categories which always have unlimited geographical extension in the Diaries: military engagements of Babylonian forces, royal deaths, and movements of the king or his representatives. Thus, we find Salamis as a theatre of royal action under Artaxerxes ii; Sardis features as the location where Antiochus I left his queen when he departed on campaign in 273 bce, and where she died twenty years later, while it is Antiochus iv’s victorious presence 22

The precise location of Ḫana (māt Ḫani) in the Diaries is not entirely clear. The ethnic “Ḫanaean” is used in the Diaries and Chronicles to refer to Macedonians and Greeks from various areas, which might suggest that Ḫana could mean any part of the Greek mainland. However, some of the time at least Ḫana means Macedon specifically: for instance, adart i No. -328 in its dating formula identifies Alexander as “the king from the land of Ḫana”, and it is thus likely that the journey “from Susa to Ḫana” recorded in the main text also refers to Macedon. Makkadunu, the unambiguous term for Macedon in the Chronicles, does not appear in the surviving Diaries, so I think it is likely that māt Ḫani always means Macedon in the Diaries.

ionia Sardis

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meluhha

misir

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beyond the river

Antioch Seleucia in Pieria

ris

Tig

Seleucia on Tigris elam Babylon Kutha Borsippa Susa Nippur Marad babylonia arabia

R.

habigalbat

Figure 7.2 Places and peoples mentioned in Hellenistic Diaries (330–142 bce) copyright K. Stevens

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Kar-Aššur Sippar Seleucia on Tigris Seleucia on on the the Euphrates Euphrates (?) (?) Kutha Seleucia Babylon R. Kabari Apamea on Silhu elam Borsippa Susa Nippur babylonia

es

rat

ph

Eu

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assyria

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Figure 7.3 Places and peoples mentioned in Parthian Diaries (141–61 bce) copyright K. Stevens

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Tyre

R.

Nisibis

habigalbat armenia

gutium

hyrcania

N

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which brings Meluḫḫa (Egypt) into focus in 168 bce.23 But the changing map is important not so much because of what it tells us about the Diaries themselves as what it tells us about the intellectual geographies of their writers, and the information they had available to them. In the early Hellenistic period in particular, the references to the outside world in the Diaries reveal an expansion of intellectual engagement with the west that would not otherwise be visible in cuneiform texts from the period. If we compare the maps of places mentioned in Diaries from 420–331 with those from 330–250 bce, we can see this quite clearly (Figs 7.1 and 7.4). In Asia Minor, references to the cities of Sardis and Antioch in the late fourth and early third centuries reflect a more local (and Seleucid) geography of the region. The Greek-speaking world, previously covered by the monolithic “Iamannu” in Akkadian texts, is now differentiated into Ionia proper, and “Ḫana” across the sea. This westwards expansion does not suggest any transformation in worldviews; the Babylonians had of course been aware of the existence of lands in and beyond the Mediterranean for many centuries. At the same time, the “sea of the sunset”, as the inhabitants of Mesopotamia knew the Mediterranean, had always been an important symbolic boundary. Reaching and washing one’s weapons in the sea was an act which Mesopotamian rulers recorded with pride in royal inscriptions, and the Mediterranean is linked with the “sea of the sunrise” (Persian Gulf) in expressions of world conquest.24 Although the campaigns of the Neo-Babylonian and Persian kings had broken the boundary to some extent, the regions on and beyond the Mediterranean coast remain rarely mentioned and vaguely localised in Akkadian scholarly texts before the Hellenistic period. We should not, perhaps, underestimate the impact that the greater integration of the Aegean area and Greek mainland as visitable and knowable places had on the mental maps of those in Babylonia. What the westwards shift in the Hellenistic Diaries certainly does do is provide a qualification to the dichotomy between the up-to-date administrative geography of Akkadian documentary texts and the frozen, archaising ­geographical conceptions which are often found in the literary and scholarly material from the Late Babylonian period. The Diaries show us one genre in which scholars actively engaged with the contemporary world outside Babylonia — even though they deliberately labelled it using archaising terms — in a way which responded to political changes. This responsiveness in the late 23 Salamis: adart i No. -440 rev. 4’ (redated to 381 bc by Koch (1991/1992)); revised edition in Van der Spek (1998: 240–251); Sardis: adart i No. -273B rev. 29’; adart ii No. -253 A1 obv. 10–11 (=B1 obv. 6); Meluḫḫa: adart ii No. -168A obv. 15. 24 Liverani (1990: 48–50); Malamat (1998: 24–26); Rollinger (2012: 725–735).

ionia Sardis

1000 km

misir

beyond the river

Antioch

R.

babylonia

Seleucia on Tigris Babylon Kutha Susa Borisppa Nippur

ris

Tig

Figure 7.4 Places and peoples mentioned in Diaries from 330 to 250 bce copyright K. Stevens

0

hana

bactria

n

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fourth and early third centuries in turn enables us to situate the Diaries’ writers in a wider Hellenistic context. The years after Alexander’s conquest and the crystallisation of the successor kingdoms saw an explosion of Greek knowledge about and interest in the east — again, not a radical disruption to ideas of world structure, but a filling in of the spaces between the world boundaries and a growing conception of the Near East as an integrated part of the oikoumene.25 In a more muted way, we can trace a mirror trend in the Diaries’ expanded coverage of the west. This breaks down any simplistic contrast between intellectually acquisitive Greeks devouring new knowledge about Asia and culturally conservative cuneiform scholars ignoring the contemporary world, allowing us to see Greek and Babylonian intellectuals of the early Hellenistic period responding in parallel ways to the same set of political changes.26 The ability of Greek and Babylonian scholars to respond to these changes was of course dependent not just on active engagement with this ‘new world’, but on the availability of information about it. This raises the question of what the geography of the Diaries might tell us about the intellectual networks that lie behind them. The question of how the Diaries’ compilers obtained their information about historical events, and why they did not include more, is a long-standing one. Sachs and Hunger tended towards the view that the historical events noted were fairly random and depended on whatever the ­compilers happened to pick up, adducing as support the uneven distribution and ­character of the terrestrial information recorded, and the use of the phrase “I heard” (Akk. alteme) or “it was heard” (ittešme) to introduce reports of human affairs.27 On the other hand, more recent scholarship has stressed the ­retrospective nature of the Diaries with monthly summaries, the narrow thematic nature of what is recorded and the connections that can be found ­between the ominous phenomena and historical events.28 All this might suggest that what appears in the surviving texts reflects deliberate selection from a much wider pool of information. At first glance, the restricted range of places attested outside Babylonia and the low frequency of references to them might be taken as support for the first of these reconstructions, an indication that limited information was available. 25 26 27 28

See further Fraser (1994); Geus (2003); Stevens (2016). See further Stevens (2019: Ch. 6). Sachs and Hunger (1988: 36). Mitsuma (2015) has shown that the historical accounts were added quite late in the compilation process, likely from separate records which he takes to be Chronicles for the events of a single month. Rochberg (2011) and Pirngruber (2013) stress the thematic links between the Diaries and the celestial and terrestrial omen series respectively; see also above, 204.

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But on closer examination, the precise way in which these references track political developments suggests otherwise. We have already seen that the Diaries’ frame of reference looks different under the Achaemenids, Seleucids and Parthians. If we add a higher degree of chronological differentiation we can see that it in fact tracks political change quite closely. When the distribution of geographical references in Diaries from the late fourth/third and late third/ second centuries is compared, the changing map mirrors the evolution of the Seleucid state — from a trans-Asian empire to an increasingly compact west Asian kingdom (Figs. 7.4 and 7.5). Similarly, the pattern of topographic references from 160 to 140 allows us to see the geopolitical shifts occurring in the lead-up to the Parthian conquest of Mesopotamia. Habigalbat (again an archaic toponym reused) appears in 164, reflecting the rise of the kingdom of Armenia. Egypt is last referred to in 145; in the same year, Elam appears and becomes a constant point of reference in succeeding years. A year later, in 144 we find the final reference to Antioch, and with it the end of references to places west of the Euphrates.29 In the Diaries from 141, the first year of Arsaces, the pattern of the following 80 years is essentially set, with Elam and Media drawing the external focus eastwards (Fig. 7.6). This apparent sensitivity of the Diaries to the broader geopolitics of the third and second centuries lends itself rather more to a model of selective excerpting than one of inconsistent information, particularly when taken in conjunction with the high degree of patterning in the types of events recorded at different distances from Babylon which we observed earlier. If the compilers had limited access to news about external affairs we would expect a more random distribution of toponymic references, and more time lags before significant changes in territorial boundaries or foreign politics are reflected in the texts. Similar considerations apply to the regional geography of the Diaries, to which we now turn. 3

Babylonia: Changing Information Networks in ‘the land’?

Overall, the geography of Babylonia in the Diaries offers few surprises (Table 7.2). Across the corpus as a whole, northern cities dominate: Babylon itself, of course (423 references), followed by the Seleucid royal capital Seleucia on

29 Habigalbat: adart ii No. -164B obv. 15’; Egypt: adart iii No. -144 obv. 35’; Elam: adart iii Nos. -144 obv. 18’, rev. 21–22; -143A 19’; -140C obv. 35, 38–41, rev. 31’–32’, 35’; -141D obv. 11’; Antioch: adart iii No. -143C 6’.

1000 km

Antioch Seleucia in Pieria

Figure 7.5 Places and peoples mentioned in Diaries from 210 to 142 bce copyright K. Stevens

0

meluhha

Mediterranean (marratu)

ionia

arabia

R.

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800 km

Babylon

is

gr

Ti

R.

babylonia

elam

media

Gulf (marratu)

Seleucia on Tigris R.kabari Apamea on Silhu

Figure 7.6 Places and peoples mentioned in Diaries from 141–140 bce copyright K. Stevens

0

assyria

hyrchia

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Tigris (88) and Borsippa (33), which shared closely in Babylon’s political and cultural life. The remaining cities of Babylonia recede for the most part into the background, appearing only very occasionally. Among the cities that traditionally enjoyed prominence in the region, Uruk receives the most frequent mention (9), with Sippar (3), Nippur (3) and Kutha (2) lagging behind. Against this neglect of Babylonia’s ancient urban centres, Kār-Aššur, a city on the middle Tigris (re)founded by Tiglath-Pileser iii in 745 bce, is surprisingly ‘prominent’ (4 references). As for newer foundations, besides Seleucia on Tigris, two other Seleucid settlements receive brief and infrequent mention: the enigmatic Seleucia on the Euphrates (4), and Apamea on Silhu (3 — all in the same entry).30 Ctesiphon, the Parthian capital founded opposite Seleucia in the late 120s, is conspicuous by its absence; it may be that the diarists understood it as an extension of Seleucia, or that the latter city, as the local seat of government, was more relevant for them than the new royal residence. If we break down the regional references by period, however, a shift becomes visible: the Diaries written during and after the Parthian conquest show a greater focus on the south of Mesopotamia compared with those written under Macedonian rule (Figs. 7.7 and 7.8). There is no diminution of interest in the major centres of the north: Babylon, Borsippa and Seleucia all appear as or more regularly than before. But it is only after 141 bce that we find references to Uruk, the Sealand, and the Gulf, as well as the neighbouring kingdom of Mesene to the south-east.31 Particularly notable here is Uruk, which is not mentioned in any of the Hellenistic Diaries (or those from the Achaemenid period) but appears in Diaries from the 130s, 120s, 90s and 80s bce. Assessing this pattern brings us back to the question of selectivity versus restricted access to information in the Diaries’ terrestrial reports. It is very unlikely, for instance, that scholars in Babylon were unable to obtain detailed information about affairs in Uruk before 141 bce. In fact, we know that there was a certain amount of interchange between the scholarly communities of the two cities: a few Hellenistic scholarly tablets from Uruk state explicitly in their colophons that they were copied from originals from Babylon, and other astronomical and astrological material from the southern city can be shown to

30 31

The location of Seleucia on the Euphrates is unclear; Van der Spek has suggested it was a refoundation of Sippar (commentary on bchp 10 obv. 5’–6’). See Cohen (2013: 156–157) for collected references. Uruk and Urukeans: adart iii No. -137A obv. 16’ (x2), rev. 5’, 7’; -137D rev. 25; -124B obv. 3’; -96A 12’; -87A rev. 14’; -82A obv. 20. Sealand: adart iii No. -137D obv. 13’, rev. 1, 2; Gulf (marratu): adart iii No. -137D obv. 13’; Mesene: adart iii No. -132B rev. 19; -124B rev. 12’; -123A obv. 18.

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The Geography of the Astronomical Diaries Table 7.2 References to Babylonia in the Diaries by frequency

Place/people

Number of references

Percentage of total references in Diaries

Settlements Apamea on Ṣilḫu Babylon Bara-an-na-ka(?) Bīt-Karkudī Borsippa Ḫiritu Kār-Aššur Kutha Marad Nippur Pallukatu Seleucia on Euphrates Seleucia on Tigris Sippar Uruk

578 3 423 1 2 33 1 4 2 1 3 1 4 88 3 9

61 0.3 45 0.1 0.2 3.5 0.1 0.4 0.2 0.1 0.3 0.1 0.4 9.3 0.3 1

85 11 2 1 3 1 1 5 1 2 57 1

9.0 1.2 0.2 0.1 0.3 0.1 0.1 0.5 0.1 0.2 6 0.1

Regions Babylonia (Akkad) “The land” (kur) Lower Sealand Mesopotamia (“between the rivers”)

124 74 45 3 2

13 7.8 4.8 0.3 0.2

Total

787

83

Bodies of water Euphrates Gulf (marratu) Kabari King’s canal Kutha canal New canal Pallukatu canal Piqdu canal Suru canal Tigris í dud.kib

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be dependent on observations and methods developed in the north.32 Another factor must be implicated here. Might we read this as the deliberate exclusion of Uruk due to competition between the city’s elites? Or irrelevance? Within Babylonia, as we have seen, the Diaries’ field of interest is generally restricted to large-scale disruptions from war, disease or famine, or royal action. Perhaps Uruk under Seleucid rule was peaceful and relatively free from royal interference; this is certainly one possible reading of the cuneiform sources from the city itself, which suggest a rather large degree of autonomy and offer no hard evidence that the Seleucids ever visited the city. When the city finally appears in the Diaries it is in the context of fighting against the Elamites and communications or movements of officials between Uruk, Babylon and Seleucia. An increasingly volatile political situation in the south may have made Urukean affairs of greater concern to the diarists as the second century wore on. As with the references to external regions, the pattern here seems to be better explained by selection than by lack of access to information. If the shifting pattern of references within Babylonia suggests selectivity, there is one difference at the regional level between the Seleucid and Parthian period Diaries which might indicate a change in information networks: a more regional focus overall. Although the Parthian empire by this period covered much of central Asia, the Diaries’ focus contracts to Mesopotamia itself and areas immediately north, south and east: Armenia, the Gulf region, Mesene, and Elam (Figs. 7.2–7.3; 7.7–7.8). The change is all the more striking given that there are many more geographical references overall in the Parthian Diaries than those of the Seleucid period. As has been repeatedly observed, during the second century bc the Diaries’ historical sections become fuller and more detailed, and in keeping with this, the frequency of toponymic and ethnic references also rises: although the surviving Diaries from the Parthian period cover only 80 years as opposed to 170 of Seleucid rule, there are over 600 discrete references to places or peoples, compared with just over 250 from the Seleucid Diaries (Table 7.3). Viewed against this background, the contraction in geographical scope seems even more significant. The shift in the Parthian period is not just a contraction in the range of places mentioned, but also in the frequency with which they appear: while the references to external regions in the Diaries written under Alexander, the diadochi and the Seleucids are relatively evenly distributed across the empire 32

Originals from Babylon: TCL 6, 16; VAT 7827. On links between the celestial scholarship of Babylon and Uruk, see Monroe (2016); Steele (2016); Hunger (forthcoming). Two tablets recording house sales in Babylon (SpTU 5, 283 and 284) were found in the archive of the c6th-c5th Gimil-Nanāya family in Uruk, providing further evidence of connections with Babylon among the Urukean scholars of the first millennium (cf. Gabbay and Jiménez forthcoming).

Figure 7.7 Babylonia in Hellenistic Diaries copyright K. Stevens

0

Borsippa

300 km

Babylon babylonia Nippur Marad

Kutha

Sippar Seleucia on Tigris

Susa

elam

N

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Figure 7.8 Babylonia in Parthian Diaries copyright K. Stevens

0

Babylon Borsippa

Sippar Seleucia on the Euphrates (?)

300 km

Uruk

R. Kabari Nippur

Kutha

Seleucia on Tigris

Kar-Aššur

sealand

Apamea on Silhu

Gulf (marratu)

mesene

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elam

N

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The Geography of the Astronomical Diaries Table 7.3 External and regional references in Seleucid and Parthian Diaries

External region no. External region % Regional reference no. Regional reference % Total

Seleucid Diaries

Parthian Diaries

35 13.6 223 86.4 258

98 15.7 527 84.3 625

from Macedon in the west to Bactria in the east, the majority of those in the Parthian period Diaries are to regions bordering Mesopotamia, or to Media.33 This increasingly regional focus is suggestive, especially given the overall increase in terrestrial reporting in the Parthian texts, and prompts the question of whether it reflects a decrease in the availability of information about events further afield. Did the fact that Babylonia was now on the western edge of an imperial domain, as opposed to the centre, mean that the scholars had less access to information about the empire as a whole, or at least about the types of events that they deemed relevant? Or was it simply that the troubles of the later second century within Babylonia itself took precedence? With the Elamites and Arabs plundering the region’s cities, and self-designated “prophets” causing discord in the land, perhaps foreign affairs were of less concern?34 At all events, the difference between the Seleucid and Parthian Diaries at the 33

34

Tuplin (this volume) notes that the references to external places and peoples are more than three times more frequent in Parthian Diaries than those from the Seleucid period (this arises from the method of counting references in terms of ‘entry’ – in terms of simple references there are 35 from the Seleucid period and 98 in the Parthian period). However, these raw figures obscure two important points: 1) The greater number of geographical references in the Parthian Diaries overall, and 2) the fact that the Parthian period ‘external’ references include 23 to Arabs plundering within Babylonia. In terms of the proportion of geographical references, places or peoples beyond Babylonia make up 13.6% of the Seleucid period references and 15.7% of those from the Parthian period; with the references to Arabs excluded the latter figure falls to 12%. More significant, perhaps, given the small numbers involved which can easily skew calculations of percentages, is the predominance of a few external regions in the Parthian Diaries and their proximity to Mesopotamia: of the 75 references excluding those to Arabs in Babylonia, 42 are to Elam, Mesene or Armenia, regions which border the heartland; 17 of the remainder are to Media. By contrast, in the Seleucid Diaries the references are more evenly distributed across a wider area. On the prophet of Nanāya episode, see Dirven (this volume).

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regional level as well as in their external frame of reference underlines the connection between intellectual and imperial geographies. 4

Within Babylon: Spaces of Power

For our observers, happenings in the remote cities of Gutium or the streets of Borsippa alike were of less concern than events in the most important city of all: Babylon. Through all the political upheaval of the first millennium, the Diaries’ authors maintained records of ominous occurrences, royal visits and cultic life within the city, carefully localising them to the temple, city quarter or other topographical feature concerned. The lack of explicit specification that these places are within Babylon, in contrast to the geographical contextualisation often given for external regions, is a further indication of the local nature of the intellectual community within which the Diaries were created, and, presumably, designed to circulate.35 While references to structures within cities other than Babylon are rare, in almost all cases the city name is also given; thus, we read of “the apadana in Seleucia”, while a reference to Ezida in 106 bce is framed by the phrase “That month, I heard that in Borsippa…”.36 By contrast, none of the 204 Diary references to internal regions, buildings or other topographical features in Babylon is explicitly said to be in the city. Indeed, in the earliest Diaries and sometimes in later exemplars too, Babylon itself is referred to simply as “the city”; the earliest surviving occurrence of the toponym “Babylon” in the Diaries is not until 382 bce.37 The vague language here may reflect 35

36

37

Diaries did circulate outside Babylon. Only two Diary tablets have so far been found outside the city: adart i No. -463 and an undatable fragment, which were both excavated from the Rēš temple in Uruk. These tablets are identical to those from Babylon in their terminology, and it is likely that they (or their forerunners) were brought from Babylon rather than reflecting an independent Diary tradition in Uruk. John Steele has recently shown that other observational texts from Uruk are likely dependent on Diaries and related observational texts from Babylon (Steele (2016)), providing further evidence for the circulation of astronomical material between the two cities. Nonetheless, the strong local focus of the Diaries and the fact that they are so poorly represented in the scholarly material from other cities in Babylonia suggest that these texts were primarily intended for, and used by, the scholars of Babylon. apadana: adart iii No. -86B 11’; Borsippa: adart iii No. -105A obv. 15’. The case of the prophet of Nanāya who in 133 bce “entered Borsippa (and) Ezida” (ana Barsip ana Ezida, adart iii No. -132B obv. 29; rev. 31) is somewhat ambiguous; this slightly awkward phrasing might be explained either as contextualisation or because the motion to Borsippa and subsequently to Ezida is being emphasised in the report. “The city”: adart i No. -567 obv.’ 7; -418 obv.’ 3; adart iii No. -107C rev. 20’. The first surviving occurrence of Babylon (Eki) is adart i No. -381 rev. 4’.

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the interaction between the Diaries and the omen corpora: the early attestations report a fox in “the city” and the language is similar to that of incidents involving wild animals which appear in the protases of Šumma Ālu and the Neo-Assyrian scholarly letters.38 At the same time, the assumption that there was no ambiguity about the city in question underscores the local perspective and/or audience of the diarists. The events which the Diaries localise in Babylon and the topographical context they provide are an invaluable source of information about the city’s structure, population, and institutions in the later first millennium, and they have been fully exploited for that purpose.39 But the city as it emerges from the Diaries can also tell us something further about the interests of those who created them. Although the “historical” sections of the Diaries become much ­fuller over time, the types of terrestrial phenomena which are localised in the city, like those further afield, remain restricted to the same few categories: positive or disruptive action in the religious sphere (performance of rituals; ­sacrilege and capital punishment of offenders); ominous terrestrial occurrences (e.g. malformed births, strange animal behaviour); large-scale disruption of human life by disease, famine, war or natural catastrophe; the presence of or communications from the king or his representatives. Between them, these types of event occur all over Babylon: cultic activities of course take place in various temples or other significant ritual spaces; stray wolves or ominous births may happen anywhere. The chronological distribution is less even than the geographical spread. Individual buildings and areas drop in and out of the record over time: for example, the Diaries’ one and only reference to Enamtila, the temple of Ea in Kumar, is in the late third century bce; the Juniper Garden occurs only in Seleucid and Parthian Diaries, and the theatre, or “house of observation” (Akk. bīt tāmarti), only begins to be mentioned in the Diaries from 162 bce onwards.40 These patterns of reference do not necessarily follow dates of construction or destruction: the first theatre in Babylon was built in the early Hellenistic period, while we know nothing of Enamtila’s later history. Rather, the uneven topographical record reflects the diarists’ criteria for selection and shifts in the functions of certain buildings. Enamtila briefly enters the diarists’ field of interest because it is struck by lightning (on which see further below); more 38 39

Pirngruber (2013: 202, 204). City structure: George (1997) (city quarters); George (2013) (cultic topography); Boiy (2004) (general). Institutions: George (1992); Boiy (2004: 193–225); Van der Spek (2005); Clancier and Monerie (2015). 40 Enamtila: adart ii No. -234A 12’. The theatre’s first appearance is adart iii No. -161A1+2 ‘obv.’ 25’; for the other references in the Diaries, see Van der Spek (2001).

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generally, the uneven chronological distribution of ominous events in the Diaries affects the range of places mentioned in different periods: for example, as Pirngruber has observed, no Šumma Izbu type events are reported in the Seleucid Diaries.41 The Juniper Garden’s recurrent mention in the Hellenistic Diaries reflects its use as a meeting place for the šatammu and kiništu, while the theatre’s comparatively late appearance is due to its function as a place where the politai assembled and heard messages from the king, which only began after the formal establishment of a polis in Babylon during the reign of Antiochus iii or iv.42 Indeed, looking at the corpus of topographical references it is striking both how few places in Babylon receive regular mention in the Diaries and how closely these places are linked to the king and his officials: of the 204 references to locations in the city, by far the highest proportion are to Esagila (90) as well as its various gates, especially the Gate of the Son of the Prince (20), the Lamassu-rabi gate (7), Kasikilla (5) and the dudē gate (5). Aside from the city quarters, the only other places which appear with any regularity are the Akītu temple (10), the king’s palace (5), the theatre (6) and the Juniper Garden (4). The focus on Esagila and its cultic life could be explained in part, of course, by the fact that the diarists were almost certainly members of its priestly community.43 But what connects the particular parts of Esagila that attract comment, and the other locations that reappear consistently, is their function as places where kings and their representatives addressed or otherwise interacted with the gods or the populace of Babylon. Other places feature only once or twice in the Diaries, including the other temples of the city, which tend to appear as the setting for ominous events or other phenomena measured by the diarists rather than in their primary function as centres of cultic practice. As we have seen, Enamtila only appears in connection with a lightning strike; so too do the “temple of Ea” (possibly also referring to Enamtila) and the wall of Nabonidus, while Egišurankia enters a late fourth century Diary in connection with the river level and Eturkalama as

41

42 43

Pirngruber (2013: 202). Pirngruber also states that Šumma Ālu-type events are essentially restricted to the fourth century and earlier, but this does not take into account the lightning strike reports (on which see below), which, as he himself notes, are ominous events recorded in Šumma Ālu, and which continue to be reported in the Seleucid and Parthian Diaries. On the history of the theatre and its use as a place of political assembly, see Van der Spek (2001); Potts (2011). For the status quaestionis on the polis in Babylon, see Clancier (2017) with bibliography. Thus Sachs and Hunger (1988: 36). See also Robson (this volume).

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context for the location of a particular garden.44 In cultic matters the diarists’ gaze is relentlessly trained on Esagila and to a lesser extent the Akītu temple, the two locations in the city, and indeed the land, where royal and religious authority and performance intersected most powerfully. Of course, our record is not complete, but the pattern is stark. The Diaries are not just Babylon-centric, but Esagila-centric, and while the content of their historical reports suggests an interest in a variety of ominous, political and cultic matters, their geographical distribution reveals a concentration on very few locations where there was a convergence between the sacred, the civic, and the imperial. 5

Falls of Fire and Observation Points

Despite the Diaries’ particular interest in Esagila and its environs, when all topographical features mentioned in the later first millennium Diaries are considered together the result is a fairly even coverage of the city; reported events are localised in all the major city quarters, with no obvious omissions or skewed topographical distribution. There is one type of event, however, which shows a very particular topographical distribution within Babylon: the IZI.ŠUB (Akk. miqitti išāti/izišubbû), or “fall of fire”. This term denotes a lightning strike, in contrast to lightning observed in the sky, which is described in Akkadian using the verb barāqu(m).45 As observed by Maul and Pirngruber, falls of fire had negative ominous significance for Babylonian scholars; they feature in the omen series Šumma Ālu and a namburbi ritual was designed to dispel the evil they caused.46 Falls of fire are also mentioned twice in scholarly letters to the Neo-Assyrian kings, which refer to the ritual against “Evil caused by a fall of fire” and interpret them in terms of the anger of Adad.47 It is unclear whether a “fall of fire” necessarily indicates a lightning strike which ignited a fire, as assumed by Maul, rather than cloud-ground lightning 44

Temple of Ea: adart ii No. -175B rev. 9’–10’; wall of Nabonidus: adart i No. -293 rev. 14’; adart i No. -284 obv. 3’–4’; Egišurankia: adart i No. -321 rev. 13’–14’; Eturkalama: adart i No. -328 rev. 24’. 45 Although barāqu is sometimes translated as “lightning strike”, I have found no clear-cut examples in the omen corpora or elsewhere where lightning described in this way (or a thunderbolt, birqu) definitely touches the ground. 46 Maul (1994: 117); Pirngruber (2013: 203). 47 SAA 10, 42 and SAA 10, 69. Both refer to the evil portended and the apotropaic ritual; in the latter, the storm god Adad is said to have “made fire fall” (išāta ušanqit, rev. 1–2) on a field because its cultivators had not sufficiently revered him.

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as opposed to cloud-cloud or intra-cloud lightning.48 Some reports make explicit reference to damage caused by the lightning strike, as for example the fall of fire which “consumed the fields of the Assyrians” in Ḫariḫumba during the reign of Esarhaddon, and perhaps also that opposite the Nabû Temple in Babylon recorded in a Diary for 331 bce where the same entry reports (after a break) that a dog was burned.49 Elsewhere, however, no damage is mentioned: in all but one of the ten instances in the Diaries which are sufficiently well preserved to tell, the fall of fire is simply reported with no further comment.50 It is therefore possible that the distinguishing feature of the fall of fire is simply that it touches (or appears to touch) the ground. In this connection it is perhaps worth noting that the ratio of reports concerning lightning (gír) to those recording falls of fire in the Diaries is around 7:1.51 Even allowing for the typical overreporting of cloud-cloud or intra-cloud events by observers due to issues of visibility, this is significantly higher than the expected relative distribution of cloud-cloud/intra-cloud to cloud-ground lightning in the region (ca. 4:1), and may support the idea that only lightning strikes which caused fire on the ground were reported.52 Whether or not the fall of fire necessarily causes destruction on earth, it is certainly classed as a terrestrial event by Mesopotamian scholars, the diarists included. This is clear from several indicators. One is the distribution of different lightning events across the various Akkadian omen series: the thunder and lightning omens of the celestial omen series Enūma Anu Enlil all use barāqu, while omens involving a miqitti išāti were recorded in the terrestrial omen series Šumma Ālu.53 A second is the fact that in the Diaries, falls of fire 48 49 50

51 52 53

Maul (1994: 117). SAA 10, 42; adart i No. -330A obv. 7’–8’ (although the passage is broken). In SAA 10, 69 the context indicates that the field is no longer productive; YOS 3: 91. adart i Nos. -418A obv.’ 3; 13; rev.’ 9; -381 obv. 8; -343 rev. 15’; -330 obv. 8’; -300 obv.’ 10; ­a dart iii -105B 14. The only other example which seems to record destruction associated with a fall of fire is adart iii No. -137D rev. 3, although this passage too is somewhat broken. The remaining 19 examples are too fragmentary to tell whether any damage is associated with the fall of fire, though it seems unlikely in most cases. Lightning flashes: 231; falls of fire: 30. The basic ratio worldwide of cloud-cloud/intra-cloud to cloud-ground lightning is 3:1, but the proportion of cloud-ground events increases with latitude from around 6:1 at 0° to 2:1 at 60° (Prentice and Mackerras (1977: 547)). Babylon is at 32° N. Enūma Anu Enlil Tablets 44–47 deal with thunder and lightning (ed. Gehlken (2012)); Šumma Ālu Tablets 50 and 51 dealt with “falls of fire” (as known from their incipits in the Aššur catalogue and the catchline in a colophon to Tablet 49) but are not extant; Tablet 58 25’ contains one omen for a fall of fire (see further Freedman (2017: 91, 113)). As restored by Heeßel the fragmentary text VAT 10961 contains omens relating to falls of fire which may be taken from Šumma Ālu 50 or 51 (Heeßel (2007) no.24; Freedman (2017: 91)).

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are never reported in conjunction with thunder, flashes of lightning, or any other meteorological phenomena, as would be expected if they were recorded for purely meteorological purposes or if their ominous significance was in the celestial sphere. In contrast to celestial omens in which a phenomenon’s position or direction in the sky and relationship to other phenomena is of ominous significance and invariably recorded, miqitti išāti in the Diaries is never linked with any particular point of origin in the sky or with other celestial phenomena. On the other hand, every one of the roughly 240 occurrences of barāqu in the Diaries is accompanied by a report of thunder and/or rain, or a note of the direction or region of the sky in which the lightning occurred. A third indication may be the fact that while in early Diaries falls of fire are recorded among the astronomical observations, from the third century onwards they almost always appear in the monthly summary sections of the Diaries, like the reports of anomalous births, animal appearances or other human actions which had also previously been interspersed with celestial observations. Reinhard Pirngruber has explained this change in terms of a conceptual shift by which “genuinely historical events”, such as battles or the actions of kings, gained in importance for the diarists and were given their own section, while “ominous events” (phenomena which recall those of omen protases) gradually decreased in importance and were recorded as part of the ­“historical” sections.54 The separation between “genuinely historical” and “ominous” events here seems somewhat problematic: it is far from clear that the “historical” (as we see them) events recorded in the Diaries were not viewed through a prognostic lens (whether as omens themselves or events that could have been portended by omens), and indeed Pirngruber himself goes on to speculate that the inclusion of “historical events” in the Diaries may have been governed to some extent by prognostic factors, since the type of events reported are strongly related to those which occur in omen apodoses.55 One might alternatively see in the development of the “historical sections” an increasing delineation between celestial and terrestrial phenomena, whereby the latter came to be clustered together in a single section, perhaps precisely to aid the identification of links between celestial and terrestrial events. If so, this provides further evidence for the terrestrial nature of the fall of fire. Thirty-one falls of fire are reported in the Diaries (Table 7.4). Chronologically, they cover the time-span of the majority of the surviving texts, with the earliest in 419 bce and the latest in 106 bce, although the reports tend to be clustered in groups of two or three within single or contiguous ­monthly 54 55

Pirngruber (2013: 202–207). Pirngruber (2013: 205).

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e­ ntries, and all but four are from Diaries before 200 bce. The fall of fire is usually localised to the city quarter in which it has occurred: thus, in adart i No. -331 we read in month vi: “Night of the 18th, a fall of fire occurred in the district of Kumar”. Occasionally, there is a more specific localisation to a particular structure: in the preserved cases a temple or wall, or the river bank.56 Strikingly, unlike the other terrestrial events reported in Babylon, the falls of fire are not spread across the city, but clustered in a few contiguous quarters: Šuanna, Eridu, Tuba, Kumar and perhaps also TE.E.57 This pattern is significant, first, because it suggests that the falls of fire were phenomena observed by the scholars making celestial observations, rather than events which they heard about and recorded, otherwise we would expect a more even scatter.58 Second, it may give us a clue to the location of the o­ bservers. We know from Achaemenid and Parthian period documents dealing with the appointment of astronomers that at least some of the scholars who made celestial observations were employed by the Esagila temple, but neither the Diaries nor any other cuneiform texts explicitly mention the exact location from which they observed.59 For reasons of height, the ziqqurrat Etemenanki has usually been assumed to be the observation point for Babylonian astronomers. However, after the destruction of its stairways and damage to the core during the Persian period (likely under Xerxes after the revolts in Babylonia) it is unclear to what extent the ziqqurrat was usable, and by the early third century the superstructure had been levelled.60 From the fifth century onwards, it is unlikely that Etemenanki could have been the place where the scholars kept watch. 56 57 58

59

60

Wall of Nabonidus: adart i Nos. -293 rev. 14’; -284 obv. 3’–4’; Enamtila: adart ii No. -234 obv. 12’; River bank: adart ii No. -209D rev. 18; adart iii No. -105B 14; Temple of Ea: adart ii No. -175B rev. 9’–10’. It is not possible to be certain about TE.E, since the only falls of fire possibly recorded there are restored (cf. Table 7.4); however, its inclusion would fit rather than disrupt the general pattern. Further support for this idea can be found in the fact that the fall of fire reports always have a precise date (whereas the other historical data are often introduced simply with “that month…”), and sometimes also a time stamp: adart i No. -284 obv. 3’–4’ (first part of the night); adart ii No. -210 obv. 14 (noon); adart iii No. -137D rev. 3 (middle watch of the night). BOR 4, 132 (edition in Schuol (2000: 31–4)) and CT 49, 144 (edition in Rochberg (2000: 272– 4)), the Parthian texts, make explicit the observational duties (keeping the watch); both texts are translated and discussed in Van der Spek (1985: 547–555). YBC 11549, a fourthcentury ration list, simply lists the profession of ṭupšar Enūma Anu Enlil without further specification of duties, but as Beaulieu (2006) argues, it is likely that there was significant continuity from the fourth to the second centuries. On damage to Etemenanki under Xerxes and later clearance, see George (2005); George (2010) and bchp 6.

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The Geography of the Astronomical Diaries Table 7.4 Falls of fire in the Diaries (X = not preserved; shaded = fall of fire restored)a

Date

Day/night Diary

Location

419 bce 9/10 April

Night

419 bce 10/11 June 418 bce 27/28 February

Night Night

418 bce 2/3 April

Night

385 bce 30/31 December 383 bce 19/20 July

Night Night

382 bce 22/23 April 382 bce 4 September 373 bce 1 August 371 bce 20/21 August

Night Night Night Night

344 bce 8/9 February

Night

344 bce 27/28 March 331 bce 24/25 September 331 bce 25/26 September 308 bce 22/23 August 301 bce 10/11 October 294 bce 23–25 August

Night Night Night Night [Night] [Night]

285 bce 20/21 October

Night

258 bce 14 July–11 August 256 bce 25 January–23 February 247 bce 15 February–16 March 235 bce 13 October

X X

adart i No. -418A obv. Šuanna 2–5 adart i No. -418A obv. 13 Šuanna adart i No. -418A rev. 4’–5’ Outside of … [X] adart i No. -418A rev. Šuanna 9’–12’ adart i No. -384 rev. 1–2 In front of [X] adart i No. -382 obv. X 22’–23’ adart i No. -381 obv. 8–9 Eridu adart i No. -381 rev. 6’ X adart i No. -372C rev. 13’ X adart i No. -370 obv. Eridu 9’–10’ adart i No. -343 obv. city of X 11’–14’ adart i No. -343 rev. 15’ Šuanna adart i No. -330 obv. 7’–8’ Kumar adart i No. -330 obv. 7’–8’ X adart i No. -307A rev. 4’ X adart i No. -300 obv. 10’ Kumar/Tuba adart i No. -293 rev. 14’ Wall of Nabonidus on river bank adart i No. -284 obv. 3’–4’ Wall of Nabonidus on river bank adart ii No. -257 B flake 5’ TE.E adart ii No. -256 rev. 17’ TE.E

X

adart ii No. -247B rev. 8’

Outside district

X

adart ii No. -234 obv. 12’

Next to Enamtila, Kumar

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Table 7.4 Falls of fire in the Diaries (X = not preserved; shaded = fall of fire restored)a (cont.)

Date

Day/night Diary

Location

233 bce 2 November–1 December 233 bce 2–31 December

adart ii No. -232 obv. 24

?

adart ii No. -232 lower edge 1–2 adart ii No. -210 obv. 14’ adart ii No. -209D rev. 18

Marad

adart ii No. -197C rev. 5

Šuanna

176 bce 2–3 December

Not stated Not stated Day? Not stated Not stated Night

Eridu?

137 bce 8 January 106 bce

Night X

adart ii No. -175B rev. 9’–10’ adart iii No. -137D rev. 3 adart iii No. -105B 14

211 bce 5 July 210 bce 14 August 197 bce 27 January

X Šuanna

Šuanna A.ḪA

a See also Pirngruber (2013), Table 7.2 (nb. the entry from adart iii No. -124A obv. 23’ and rev. 4’ which is included there seems to refer not to a lightning strike but to an actual fire: IZI not IZI.ŠUB is used in each case, and in the first case it is not clear that the verb ŠUB.ŠUB-ut should be taken with IZI; rather there seems to be a missing verb in the fragmentary section, perhaps part of qalû?).

The astronomical and meteorological observations in the Diaries cannot tell us much about the place from which the observations were made — one only requires a reasonable height to see the whole of the sky. However, detecting and locating a lightning strike requires sightlines to the ground, or at least to structures on the ground, and most buildings will not provide a fully synoptic view of any built environment. With this in view, it is noteworthy that the lightning strikes the Diaries record are clustered immediately south, east and west of Esagila. The number of reports is not overly large, but nonetheless the pattern seems too strong to be the result of chance; nor can it be explained solely by the diarists’ thematic focus on Esagila and areas of particular political and cultic significance. Eridu was of course the quarter in which Esagila was located, but in this case it is difficult to see why the northern area around the Akītu temple and theatre — frequently mentioned for other reasons, as we have seen — would be excluded. The exclusion of these areas does make sense, however, if the observers were on the roof of Esagila. In the fifth and fourth centuries their

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view to the north would have been partially blocked by the slowly collapsing ruin of Etemenanki, and even after the mound was levelled the high precinct wall and other tall buildings further north around the citadel would have made it difficult to observe lightning strikes in the northern quarters of the city. Even without much taller structures obscuring the view, one would need to be at a considerable height above the surrounding area to detect and pinpoint the location of a visible event at ground level, such as a lightning strike or fire arising from it. While Etemenanki would have offered sufficient vertical clearance to distinguish the city’s various quarters and major buildings, Esagila was not significantly taller than other buildings in the centre of Babylon. The ability of an observer on the temple roof to make an accurate localisation of a lightning strike within the city would therefore have been restricted to the areas in their immediate vicinity: precisely those which feature in the reports. Overall, it seems quite likely that we have a reflection here of the location where the observations were made, at least from the mid-fifth century — not a very surprising result, given the diarists’ connections with Esagila, but one which nevertheless offers further insight into the observational and recording processes behind the surviving texts. 6 Conclusions Although the terrestrial geography of the Diaries does not match the celestial in its range, detail or precision, it has much to offer the historian. The changing pattern of references to peoples and places in the Diaries from the fourth to the first centuries bce enables us to trace the impact of two imperial transitions on the intellectual geographies and information networks of their writers. Although the number of references to places outside Babylonia is limited, the shifting map from the Achaemenid to the Parthian periods shows that their authors actively engaged with the contemporary world(s) beyond the two rivers, and suggests that they had a sense of the imperial spaces into which Babylon was integrated. The rapidity with which political changes are reflected in the Diaries’ map and the consistently narrow thematic focus of the events that are reported suggest that we should not take at face value the impression of random snippets of information: it may be strict parameters of relevance rather than a narrow stream of information which restricts engagement with areas both outside and inside Babylonia. At the same time, the more regional focus of the later second century Diaries may indicate that relevant data about external regions were

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harder to come by in the Parthian period, when Babylon was on the contested fringes of the empire, than during the halcyon days of the early Seleucid rulers when the city was at the empire’s heart. Closer to home, the reports of stray animals, official visits and ritual action in Babylon itself not only inform us about the city’s built environment and institutions, but give us a glimpse of the Babylon of the diarists: a set of spaces through which ominous creatures wandered and where fire fell from heaven; a city and community dominated by its sacred centre at Esagila, where imperial and divine power converged and were negotiated through ritual and political performance. It is at Esagila, too, that we finally arrive by tracing back the sightlines to the ‘falls of fire’ that the texts report. Ultimately, the geography of the Diaries does not only further our understanding of the intellectual aims and horizons of their compilers and the connections between politics and scholarship in Babylon; it may also lead us to the location where, for six centuries, Babylonian scholars dutifully ‘kept the watch’. References Andreau, J., P. Briant and R. Descat (eds.), 1997, Économie antique: Prix et formation des prix dans les économies antiques (Saint-Bertrand-de-Comminges: Musée ­archéologique départemental). Aperghis, G.G., 2004, The Seleukid Royal Economy: The Finances and Financial Administration of the Seleukid Empire (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press). Beaulieu, P.-A., 2006, “The Astronomers of the Esagil Temple in the Fourth C ­ entury bc”, in A.K. Guinan, A.K. Ferrera, S.M. Freedman, M. de J. Ellis, M.T. Rutz, L. Sassmannshausen, S. Tinney and M.W. Waters (eds.), If a Man Builds a Joyful House: Assyriological Studies in Honor of Erle Verdun Leichty (Cuneiform Monographs 31) (Leiden: Brill), 5–22. Boiy, T., 2004, Late Achaemenid and Hellenistic Babylon (Leuven: Peeters). Clancier, P., 2017, “The Polis of Babylon: An Historiographical Approach”, in B. Chrubasik and D. King (eds.), Hellenism and the Local Communities of the Eastern Mediterranean, 400 bce – 250 ce (Oxford: Oxford University Press), 53–81. Clancier, P. and J. Monerie, 2015, “Les sanctuaires babyloniens à l’époque hellénistique: évolution d’un relais de pouvoir”, Topoi 19, 181–237. Cohen, G.M., 2013, The Hellenistic Settlements in the East from Armenia and Mesopotamia to Bactria and India (Berkeley: University of California Press). Foster, B.R., 2013, “Guti”, in R.S. Bagnall, K. Brodersen, C. Champion, A. Erskine and S. Huebner (eds.), The Encyclopedia of Ancient History (Chichester, UK; Malden, MA: Wiley-Blackwell).

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Rochberg-Halton, F., 1988, Aspects of Babylonian Celestial Divination: The Lunar Eclipse Tablets of Enūma Anu Enlil (Archiv für Orientforschung, Beiheft 22) (Horn, AT: Verlag Ferdinand Berger & Söhne Gesellschaft). Rollinger, R., 2012, “From Sargon of Agade, and the Assyrian Kings to Khusrau I and beyond: On the Persistence of Ancient Near Eastern Traditions”, in G.B. Lanfranchi, D.M. Bonacossi, C. Pappi and S. Ponchia (eds.), LEGGO! Studies Presented to Prof. Frederick Mario Fales on the Occasion of His 65th Birthday (Leipziger Altorientalische Studien 2) (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag), 725–743. Sachs, A. and H. Hunger, 1988, Astronomical Diaries and Related Texts from Babylonia. Volume i, Diaries from 652 b.c. to 262 b.c. (Wien: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften). Sachs, A. and H. Hunger, 1989, Astronomical Diaries and Related Texts from Babylonia. Volume ii, Diaries from 261 b.c. to 165 b.c. (Wien: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften). Sachs, A. and H. Hunger, 1996, Astronomical Diaries and Related Texts from Babylonia. Volume iii, Diaries from 164 b.c. to 61 b.c. (Wien: Verlag der Österreichischen Akademie der Wissenschaften). Schuol, M., 2000, Die Charakene. Ein mesopotamisches Königreich in hellenistisch-parthischer Zeit. (Oriens et Occidens 1) (Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag). Slotsky, A.L., 1997, The Bourse of Babylon: Market Quotations in the Astronomical Diaries of Babylonia (Bethesda, MD: CDL Press). van der Spek, R.J., 1985, “The Babylonian Temple during the Macedonian and Parthian Domination”, Bibliotheca Orientalis 42 (1985) 541–562. van der Spek, R.J., 1993, “The Astronomical Diaries as a Source for Achaemenid and Seleucid History”, Bibliotheca Orientalis 50, 91–101. van der Spek, R.J., 1997, “New Evidence from the Babylonian Astronomical Diaries Concerning Seleucid and Arsacid History”, Archiv für Orientforschung 44/45, 167–175. van der Spek, R.J., 1998, “The Chronology of the Wars of Artaxerxes ii in the Babylonian Astronomical Diaries”, in M. Brosius and A. Kuhrt (eds.), Studies in Persian History: Essays in Memory of David M. Lewis (Achaemenid History XI) (Leiden: Brill), 239–256. van der Spek, R.J., 2001, “The Theatre of Babylon in Cuneiform”, in W. van Soldt, J.G. Dercksen and N.J.C. Kouwenberg (eds.), Veenhof Anniversary Volume. Studies Presented to Klaas R. Veenhof on the Occasion of His Sixty-Fifth Birthday (Leiden: Nederlands Instituut voor het Nabije Oosten), 445–456. van der Spek, R.J., 2005, “Ethnic Segregation in Hellenistic Babylon”, in W. van Soldt, R. Kalvelagen and D. Katz (eds.), Ethnicity in Ancient Mesopotamia. Papers Read at the 48th Rencontre Assyriologique Internationale, Leiden, 1–4 July 2002 (PIHANS 102) (Leiden: Nederlands Instituut voor het Nabije Oosten), 393–408.

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van der Spek, R.J., 2014, “The Volatility of Prices of Barley and Dates in Babylon in the Third and Second Centuries bc”, in H.D. Baker and M. Jursa (eds.), Documentary Sources in Ancient Near Eastern and Greco-Roman History: Methodology and Practice (Oxford: Oxbow Books), 234–259. van der Spek, R.J. and C.A. Mandemakers, 2003, “Sense and Nonsense in the Statistical Approach of Babylonian Prices”, Bibliotheca Orientalis 60, 521–537. Steele, J.M., 2016, “The Circulation of Astronomical Knowledge between Babylon and Uruk”, in J.M. Steele (ed.), The Circulation of Astronomical Knowledge in the Ancient World (Leiden; Boston: Brill), 83–118. Stevens, K., 2016, “From Herodotus to a ‘Hellenistic’ World? The Eastern Geographies of Aristotle and Theophrastus”, in E. Barker, S. Bouzarovski, C. Pelling and L. Isaksen (eds.), New Worlds from Old Texts: Revisiting Ancient Space and Place (Oxford: Oxford University Press), 121–152. Stevens, K., 2019, Between Greece and Babylonia: Hellenistic Intellectual History in CrossCultural Perspective (Cambridge Classical Studies) (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press). Stolper, M.W., 1994, “Mesopotamia, 482–330 B.C”, in D.M. Lewis, J. Boardman, M. Ostwald and S. Hornblower (eds.), The Cambridge Ancient History: Volume 6: The Fourth Century bc (2nd ed) (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press), 234–260.

Chapter 8

Royal Presence in the Astronomical Diaries Marijn Visscher 1 Introduction In 188/187 bce, the Seleucid king Antiochus the Great came to Babylon. During his stay he visited temples, participated in public sacrifices and was presented with gifts from both Greeks and Babylonians. The Astronomical Diaries record the details of the visit at considerable length, presenting us with the image of a king very much involved with Babylon and Babylonian traditions. The description of Antiochus’ visit to Babylon is a tantalising snapshot that leaves us wondering about the wider relationships between the city and the Seleucid kings.1 In fact, however, this form of direct engagement is rarely attested in the Diaries. Where a king appears at all he tends to be physically absent from Babylon, fighting wars abroad or ruling the city from afar through local representatives. In this chapter, I explore the portrayal of the king in the Astronomical Diaries, and especially his relationship with Babylon, from the Persian to the Parthian period.2 This diachronic overview can, I hope, provide a novel perspective on the relationship between the city and successive imperial powers, and tell us more about the vantage point of the Diaries, and their authors’ sense of their own place in a changing world.3 The Diaries cover a period in the history of Babylon that in many ways challenged its inhabitants’ established views of the world. After the conquest of the city by the Persian king Cyrus, Babylon became part of an imperial system that was ruled by foreign kings. Still, it was never forgotten that Babylonian kings were supposed to take up residence in Babylon, and rule the world from there. As a result, we see a tension develop in the Diaries between the expectation 1 For an in-depth discussion of this passage, see Haubold (2017: 111–130). 2 In any discussion of the Astronomical Diaries, it is important to stress the fragmentary state of the evidence. In particular, this means that the argumentum ex silentio about a particular entry or event is not very strong. It is, however, still possible to draw conclusions about the material more generally. 3 I have chosen to focus on royal presence because the king was a central figure in Babylonian culture and was situated within a long tradition of kingship that was vitally important for ancient Babylonians of all periods, and the way they thought about politics; cf. van der Spek (2003: 295): “The fate of kings was of special concern for Babylonian diviners, and understandably so”.

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that a king should be present in Babylon, and the reality of absent rulers governing the city from afar. In this chapter, I argue that the authors of the Diaries found subtle ways of bridging the gap between their own hopes and expectations on the one hand and the political reality on the other. Throughout, I shall treat the Diaries not as simple transcripts of reality but as a form of historiographical literature; and the kings they mention not so much as real-life agents as characters in a text, who are portrayed as fulfilling a specific role within it. 2

Royal Presence in Babylon

In the whole of the Astronomical Diaries, there are only three recorded examples of kings being present in the city of Babylon: Alexander the Great entering the city after the battle of Gaugamela, and Antiochus iii in 204 bce and in 188 bce after his defeat at Apamea. The Diaries singled out these moments and gave them special weight; the entries of Alexander and Antiochus iii in Babylon are longer and more elaborate than most other historical entries from the Persian and Seleucid periods.4 The battle of Gaugamela and the victory of Alexander the Great heralded the fall of the Persian Empire and brought about a momentous shift of power in the Near East.5 The event is clearly marked in the Diaries. We first read in the Diary for the month vi, Ulūlu, of 329 bce that the “king of the world”, Darius iii, prepared for battle but that his troops panicked and deserted him during the fight.6 One month later, in Tašrītu of the same year, a new king of the world entered Babylon: Month vi, Ulūlu 14’ I TU BI U4-11-KÁM ḫat-tu4 ina ma-dàk-tu4 ina qud-me LUGAL GAR-m[a…] 4 For the special case of the Parthian Diaries see pp. 251–252, and Haubold, this volume, pp. 269–293. 5 On the battle of Gaugamela: Diodorus, 17.55.3–61.3; Arrian, Anabasis 3.8–15; Curtius Rufus, 4.12.1–16.33; Justin, 11.13.1–14.7; Plutarch, Alexander, 31.3–32.7. The literature on Alexander’s campaigns is extensive; for some general introductions, see Green (1991); Bosworth (1988); Bosworth (1980); Bosworth and Baynham (eds.) (2000). For recent discussions of the battle of Gaugamela see, for example: Briant (2015: 103, 171–172); Lendering (2005: 162–176); Gilley and Worthington (2010: 192–199); Devine (1986: 87–115). 6 Van der Spek argues that “king of the world” in the entry for month vi already refers to Alexander and not to Darius (van der Spek (2003: 299)), but this seems less likely than the more widely accepted view that the phrase refers to Darius. See p. 241, nn. 14, 15 and 16 below.

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15’ ana tar-ṣi LUGAL ŠUB-ú 24-KÁM ina še-rì LUGAL ŠÚ za-qip-t[u4…] 16’ G ABA a-ḫa-meš im-ḫa-ṣu-ma ŠI.ŠI lúERÍNmeš kab-t[u4…] 17’ LUGAL ERÍNmeš-šú ú-maš-šir-ú-ŠI-ma ana URUmeš-šú-nu […] 18’ [ana m]āt gu-ti-i ZÁḪ-it-u’ (blank) […] 14’ That month, on the 11th, panic occurred in the camp before the king […] 15’ lay opposite the king. On the 24th, in the morning, the king of the world […] the standard […] 16’ they fought with each other, and a heavy defeat of the troops of […] 17’ the troops of the king deserted him and [went] to their cities […] 18’ they fled to the land of the Guti […] […] Month vii, Tašrītu 3’  [I]TU BI TA 1 E[N…] 4’  ana Eki GIN-ku um-ma é-sag-íl […] 5’  u DUMUmeš Eki a-na NÍG-GA é-sag-íl […] 6’  U4-11-KÁM ina uruUD.KIB.NUNki ṭè-e-mu šá Ia-l[ek-sa-an-dar-ri-is…] 7’  [x x] a-na Émeš-ku-nu ul er-ru-ub U4-13-KÁ[M…] 8’  [x x] x LA KÁ ka-mi-i šá é-sag-gíl ù x […] 9’  [x x x] U4-14-KÁM lúia-ma-na-a-a MU-tim GU 4 […] 10’ (blank) LUGUD-DAmeš uzuME-ḪEme[š…] 11’  [x x x] a-lek-sa-an-dar-ri-is LUGAL ŠÚ ana Eki K[U4…] 12’ [x ANŠE-K]UR-RAmeš ù ú-nu-ut […] 13’  [x x x] u DUMUmeš Eki u UNmeš […] 3’  That month, from the 1st to […] 4’  came to Babylon saying: “The Esagila […”] 5’  and the Babylonians for the property of the Esagila […] 6’  On the 11th, in Sippar an order of Al[exander…] 7’  [“…] I shall not enter your houses”. On the 13th, […] 8’  […] to the outer gate of the Esagila and […] 9’  […] On the 14th, these Ionians a bull […] 10’ short, fatty tissue […] 11’ […] Alexander, king of the world, [came in]to Babylon […] 12’ […hor]ses and equipment of[…] 13’ […] and the Babylonians and the people of […] adart i No. -330 obv. 14–18; rev. 3–13 (Month vii (Tašrītu)/ Month vi (Ulūlu))

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The fragments describe the events leading up to the battle of Gaugamela and its aftermath.7 In line 14, describing the eleventh day of month vi, we hear of problems in the camp of Darius, which van der Spek has linked to the advance of Alexander’s army.8 When we turn to the astronomical data for the same month, it becomes clear that Persian panic may have been exacerbated by the lunar eclipse that occurred on the thirteenth day of the month.9 This eclipse, which is also known from classical sources, was explained by the Greeks as a bad omen for Darius and a positive sign for Alexander.10 According to the Diary, the demoralised troops of Darius fled and deserted their king after a heavy defeat, and Alexander emerged victorious as the new king of kings. In the following month, Alexander entered Babylon.11 The Diaries build up to this moment by first describing the messages that were sent from Sippar, apparently to proclaim Alexander’s peaceful intentions regarding their temples and people. These messages were conditional upon the surrender of the cities and thus also contained a veiled threat. After a further section which describes a sacrifice made by the Greeks, Alexander himself is described as coming to Babylon with his army. According to the classical sources, the Babylonians came out to the gate to celebrate and supplicate Alexander as he entered the city as king of the world.12 7

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Text and translation of the Diaries are from Sachs and Hunger adart unless otherwise specified (Sachs and Hunger (1988–2006)). For a more extensive analysis of the fragment, see van der Spek (http://www.livius.org/cg-cm/chronicles/bchp-alexander/ astronomical_diary-330_03.html), “An Astronomical Diary mentioning Gaugamela”; Rollinger and Ruffing (2012: 101–115); van der Spek (2003: 289–346); Bernard (1990: 513–528); Kuhrt (1990). Cf. http://www.livius.org/sources/content/oriental-varia/a-contemporary -account-of-the-battle-of-gaugamela. Van der Spek (livius.org), “An Astronomical Diary mentioning Gaugamela”, commentary line 14. Rollinger and Ruffing (2012: 106); van der Spek (livius.org), “An Astronomical Diary mentioning Gaugamela”, commentary line 14; van der Spek (2003: 292–296). Van der Spek (2003: 292–296). In Babylonian astronomy and omen literature eclipses were considered bad omens for the ruling king, see, for example, Enūma Anu Enlil, 29th aḫû tablet (obv. 59–61; Rochberg-Halton (1987: 346)), cf. Babylonian Astrological Calendar (Labat (1965: §71:7). For the classical sources see Arrian, Anabasis, 3.7.6; Pliny, Natural History, 2.72. The entry into Babylon is also well known from classical sources (Curtius Rufus, History of Alexander the Great of Macedonia 5.1.17–33. See also Diodorus 17.112.1–6, 19.55.8; Plutarch, Alexander, 73.1–74.1; Appian, Civil Wars, 2.153; Arrian, Anabasis 7.16.5–8, 17.4–18.6; Justin 12.13.3–5). Scholars have pointed out that Alexander’s entry into Babylon involved a display of standard Near Eastern protocols for royal entries and a traditional response to the approach of a conquering army. This procession therefore was not a spontaneous outburst of g­ oodwill

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The Diaries heralded Alexander’s entrance into Babylon not only by devoting significant narrative space to it, but also through the careful manipulation of nomenclature. At the moment of his arrival Alexander is expressly named “Aleksandaris”. This is the earliest mention of any royal name in the preserved portions of the Astronomical Diaries: none of the Achaemenid kings are referred to by name; they are just called “the king”. Different explanations are possible: perhaps the diarists named earlier kings in passages that are now lost, or perhaps they really did make an exception for Alexander which caught on in the later texts. Either way, it seems clear that his name here marks a significant moment of change and transition. Secondly, although the title “king of the world” had been used by the Persian kings since at least Artaxerxes ii,13 this entry is the only point where it appears in the Diaries. Van der Spek suggests that the phrase is a translation of the Greek title “king of Asia”, rather than of the Achaemenid title “king of the world”.14 Indeed, he maintains that the passage mentioning the “king of the world” in month vi refers to Alexander the Great rather than to Darius.15 It seems more plausible that when it first appears it refers to Darius, but in any case the phrase is rooted in Near Eastern traditions of kingship. Because this title is not otherwise used in the Diaries, and because in connection with Alexander’s arrival it occurs not just once but twice in a row, van der Spek’s assessment that it reflects the dry factual style of the Diaries seems insufficient.16 Somebody clearly chose to include it here, not just to record the “bare fact” of Alexander’s victory but to create a politically charged account of a world-historical event. Indeed, if we take the first occurrence of the title of “king of the world” to refer to Darius, and the second to Alexander, we see that the Diaries clearly marked this pivotal moment in Near Eastern history.17 towards Alexander but an organised and staged performance of submission. Kosmin (2014: 151–157); Briant (2002: 693, 842–853); Kuhrt (1990: 121–130); Bosworth (1988: 86–88). 13 Artaxerxes ii reigned from 404 to 358 bce. See, for example: A2Sc, an inscription from Susa. 14 “It must be the translation of Alexander’s title ‘king of Asia’, because ‘Asia’ was no recognizable concept for a Babylonian scientist” (Van der Spek on livius.org, “An Astronomical Diary mentioning Gaugamela”). Cf. Fredericksmeyer (2000: 136–166). 15 Van der Spek (livius.org) An Astronomical Diary mentioning Gaugamela: Commentary; van der Spek (2003: 298–299), followed by Rollinger and Ruffing (2012: 108–109). 16 “Outright value judgments are not attested, unless it is that Alexander is called ‘king of the world’ and Darius only ‘king’; but this can also be seen as a ‘bare fact’, since Alexander was hailed ‘king of Asia’ by his troops after Gaugamela […] and Darius was indeed reduced to ‘a king’ among others”. (van der Spek (2003: 299)). 17 See also Bernard (1990: 528), for this reading.

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Besides Alexander, there is one other king whose presence in Babylon is recorded in the Diaries: Antiochus iii is said to have visited the city not once but twice. In general, the Diaries covering his reign contain few historical entries, which make the two attestations of his presence even more remarkable. Both entries describe Antiochus iii participating in Babylonian cult and sacrifices. In Nisannu (April) of 205 bce, Antiochus moved from the palace to the Esagila and sacrificed to Marduk.18 At the same time, sacrifices were made to Ištar and for the life of the king.19 His presence in the city coincided with the akītu festival, which was celebrated in the month Nisannu at the start of the calendar year, and the entry seems to imply that the king participated in the festival.20 Apart from the temporal overlap of the visit and the festival, the akītu temple is also named in the entry. This is significant, especially since the festival was a moment during which the relationship between the king and the priests was renewed. Although it is unclear whether the king himself entered the akītu temple, the mention of the temple in the same entry as the royal visit is suggestive.21 This entry is the clearest evidence we have of kings participating in the akītu festival after the end of the Neo-Babylonian dynasty.22 By recording this event, the Diaries engage with the constructive

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adart ii No. -204C rev. 14–18. For sacrifices for the life of the king see below pp. 252–255 with notes 53, 55 and 56. On the akītu festival, see Waerzeggers (2011: 731–732); Zgoll (2006); Linssen (2004: 68–86); Bidmead (2002); Pongratz Leisten (1997: 83–101); Cohen (1993: 400–453), Smith (1976: 1– 11). On the Hellenistic ritual: Akītu Programme, Linssen (2004: 223, ll. 423–8); Smith (1976: 1–11). ana É-U4-l-KÁM (adart ii No. -204C rev. 17). It is also possible that the text described the festival proceedings in which Marduk moved from the city to the akītu temple and back again into the city during the festival without reporting on the king entering the temple. This temple may be the same as the New Year temple (bīt akīti), in which case it would lie outside the city walls (Boiy (2004: 9)). For the Temple of the First Day (é.ud.1.kám) as the New Year temple, see Boiy (2004: 85–86). For the argument that the two names do not refer to the same temple, see McEwan (1981: 135). For further discussion of the akītu temple see Bidmead (2002: 115–120); Cohen (1993: 403–406). There is one more reference to Seleucid royal involvement in the festival: one of the Babylonian Chronicles (Seleucus iii Chronicle (bchp 12)) from the reign of Seleucus iii (the father of Antiochus iii) describes how the king provided food offerings for the akītu festival in the Esagila from the royal treasury. It seems that the king himself was not present at the festival but that he sent a letter with instructions to the šatammu. Two attestations of Seleucids participating in the akītu may not seem very many, but there is other, less direct, evidence, that the akītu festival was important in the Hellenistic period, certainly from a Babylonian perspective. In addition to the references to the Seleucid kings, we have two Hellenistic texts with extensive ritual instructions for the akītu festival of the month Nisannu in Babylon (RAcc. 127–154 (DT 15, DT 109) + BM 32485 (DT 114, mnb 1848)). The texts list, day by day, the rituals that need to be performed and accompanying prayers

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equivocations that underpinned the rise of a specifically Greco-Babylonian form of kingship.23 The most detailed entry describing the king’s participation in Babylonian cult concerns a festival that was held in 188/187 bce in Babylon in which Antiochus iii participated.24 In adart ii No. -187A we find an elaborate description of the proceedings:25 7’  […] KU 4 UD.4.KAM ina KÁ GALi šá É.SAG.GÍL XXX GUDmeš u UDU.[SISKUR.SISKUR]meš ana dEN dG[AŠAN-iá] 8’  […] šá DAM-šú u Ameš-šú DÙ x uš-kin-nu lúŠÀ.TAM É.SAG.GÍL u Éki.mes lúUKKIN šá É.SAG.GÍL[...] 9’  […] šu⸣-pal-šú ki’li-[l]i šá 1000 GÍN GUŠKIN ana man LUGAL il-taknu-u’ UD BI lúpa-ḫ[at] Eki 10’ […GU]ŠKIN ana man LUGAL GARmeš UD [B]I ana É.SAG.GÍL E11 uškin-nuUD BI anaUD.1.KAM KU 4 ubGUDmešUDU.SISKUR.SI[SKUR] 11’ […T]IN.TIRki AGA GUŠKIN [x] pi-šá-an-nu GUŠKIN šá dGAŠAN-iá u TÚG.SÍG.SAG šá m.dPA- NÍG.GUB-SIS LUGAL šá ina É bu-[še-e…] 7’  On the fourth, at the Pure Gate, the great temple of the Esagila…, [King Antiochus sacrificed] oxen and sheep to Bēl and Bēltīya [for his life and the life] 8’  of his wife and his sons and he prostrated himself. The šatammu of the Esagila and the Babylonians of the Assembly of the Esagila presented 9’  King Antiochus with […with…underneath] (and) a crown of 1000 shekels of gold. On the same day, the governor of Babylon [and…] presented 10’ King Antiochus with a golden […]. On the same day (the king) went up to the Esagila (and) prostrated himself (and also) on the same day he entered the Temple of the First Day (and) sacrificed oxen and sheep. 11’ […] Babylon, a golden tiara, a golden chest of Beltiya, and a cloak of King Nebuchadnezzar which was kept in the storehouse. adart ii No. -187A rev. 7’–11’ (Month xi (Šabāṭu), Feb.–March 187 bc)

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and hymns (RAcc. 128-129; see also Ebeling (1926: 295–303); Linssen (2004: 215–237); Kuhrt (2014: 84–87); Sommer (2000: 81–91)). For the emergence of a Greco-Babylonian form of kingship under the Seleucids, see Visscher (unpublished). For more general discussion of the relationship between the Seleucids and Babylon, see Waerzeggers (2015: 186–187); Kosmin (2014: 100–103); Boiy (2004); Invernizzi (1993: 234–246). See Haubold (2017: 111–130), for a discussion of the events from different perspectives. Text: Del Monte (1997: 66–68); translation: Haubold (2017).

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This passage is part of the longest historical entry in the Astronomical Diaries from the Seleucid period, and its length and detail indicate the importance that the compilers of the Diaries attached to the presence of the king. The text describes how Antiochus, on the fourth day of the month, went to the gate of the Esagila and prostrated himself before Bēl-Marduk. Subsequently, he is presented with a golden crown, a gift from the temple administrator and assembly. The governor of Babylonia, who was the Greek civil authority, offered the king a gift as well. Furthermore, the king apparently visited several temples, most notably the Esagila and the Temple of the First Day, and conducted sacrifices.26 After a gap in the text we read that the king received, or was shown, a golden tiara, a golden chest and the cloak of Nebuchadnezzar ii. By the Seleucid period, Nebuchadnezzar had become an archetypical Babylonian king.27 In this entry, his cloak is part of the royal regalia that represent the power of Babylonian kingship. By presenting these items to Antiochus iii, the Babylonian elites endorsed Seleucid attempts to connect themselves to Nebuchadnezzar. Here the Diaries provide us with new insight, detailing the response of the Babylonian elites to the rare occurrence of a royal visit. When Antiochus iii came to Babylon and received the cloak of Nebuchadnezzar, it was indeed an extraordinary event, warranting what was, at that time, an unprecedented level of historical narrative in the Diaries. Although we know from other Greek and Babylonian sources that the Seleucid kings were present in Babylon on several different occasions, no other royal visits have been transmitted in the Diaries.28 Due to the fragmentary nature of 26 27

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See p. 253, n. 55. For Nebuchadnezzar as the quintessential Babylonian king, see Haubold (2013: 166). The importance of King Nebuchadnezzar can be seen in several examples of Seleucid literature: the Borsippa Cylinder, for example, evokes King Nebuchadnezzar and in particular his building activities, as a model for Babylonian kingship (Kosmin (2014: 173–198); Haubold (2013: 135–142)); for a different view see Stevens (2014: 66–88). In addition, the king is mentioned as a hero in Megasthenes’ work on India (Kosmin (2014: 51–52); Visscher (unpublished)), and he received an extensive discussion in Berossus, the Babylonian priest who wrote for Antiochus i (Dillery (2013: 79–90); De Breucker (2012); van der Spek (2008: 277–318)). In this context, we see how the rhetoric of Nebuchadnezzar’s own inscriptions is taken up in later tradition (cf. Haubold (2013: 79, 139–140); Langdon (1912)). Other Babylonian sources, such as the Babylonian Chronicles, record the presence of other Seleucid kings, especially Antiochus i, in Babylon. See for example: Diadochi Chronicle (bchp 3); End of Seleucus i Chronicle (bchp 9); Antiochus i and Sin temple Chronicle (bchp 5); Ruin of the Esagila Chronicle (bchp 6); Antiochus, Bactria, and India Chronicle (bchp 7); Juniper garden Chronicle (bchp 8); End of Seleucus i Chronicle (bchp 9); Antiochus Cylinder (Stevens (2014: 66–88)); for other editions, see: Stol and van der Spek (livius.org) http://www.livius.org/cg-cm/chronicles/antiochus_cylinder/antiochus_­ cylinder2.html; Kuhrt and Sherwin-White (1991: 71–86).

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the texts, it is unlikely that these were the only visits of a king to Babylon that were recorded in the Diaries, but it is impossible to comment on the frequency and content of the unrecorded visits.29 It is clear, however, that the compilers of the Diaries did mark royal visits to Babylon as special occasions. Unlike the Seleucids, the Achaemenid and Parthian kings are never said in the Diaries to be physically present in Babylon. As the historical entries become more elaborate and detailed in the late Seleucid and early Parthian ­periods — a development that started during the reign of Seleucus iv — the absence of the kings is here less likely to be just a chance omission or a reflection of disinterest in royal affairs.30 Indeed, the Diaries demonstrate continued engagement with the king, absent from Babylon, but still present in the text. 3

Presence by Proxy: Appointments and Letters

In addition to the rare occasions on which the king was physically present in Babylon, the Diaries depict him exerting influence over the city’s affairs from afar. Typically, this happens through representatives who mediate between the city and the king: messengers carrying royal commands and orders, as well as local officials on the ground in Babylon.31 These agents ensured continuous

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In addition, we know from other sources that there was significant movement in and out of Babylon after the death of Alexander, before Seleucus i took the crown. Although the warring generals were in Babylon at various points during the Successor Wars (320–315 bce; Seleucus as Satrap of Babylonia — 317/316 bce (bchp 3); Seleucus returns to Babylon — 312/311 bce), these visits were not recorded. The Diaries seem instead to focus on the chaos of war, mentioning the strong men of the age in connection with the fighting, but refraining from recording their visits to Babylon. Significantly, perhaps, the boy king Alexander iv, son of Alexander the Great and Roxane, resided in Macedonia under the guardianship of Perdiccas and Antipater and did not visit Babylon. For the chronology of the Successor Wars, see Anson (2014); van der Spek (2014: 323–342); Landucci Gattinoni (2013: 30–42); Boiy (2010: 1-13); Boiy (2007); Braund (2003); Bosworth (2002). In a month-by-month analysis of all the Diaries, it becomes clear that the ratio of historical entries in which the king is mentioned increases through time. Although this is a gradual change, there seems to be a watershed in the late Seleucid period. By the time of Mithridates ii (121–91 bce), almost every preserved month contains a reference to the king. Even with the caveat that these observations are based on fragmentary evidence it seems clear that by the time of the Parthian period most historical entries in the Diaries contained information about the kings and their activities. Some roles existed from the Persian down to the Parthian period, while others were restricted to a certain time. The two groups made up of members of the local city elites and representatives of the king could of course overlap.

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communication in the absence of the king, while royal troops and generals simultaneously represented and reinforced the king’s authority.32 The following fragment from the reign of Artaxerxes ii mentions his troops and their exploits in foreign regions. At the same time, it shows the king’s influence in Babylon through edicts or commands. 1 …ma i-nu-šu MÚL-BABBAR ina RÍN […] 2 AN šá ŠÚ-u NU IGI ITU BI LÚ … […] 3 [lú]ERÍN-ni LUGAL ṣal-tu4 ana lìb-bi lúERÍN-ni […] 4 [K]UR-ú šá bi-rit ÍDme DÙme-ma L[Ú…] 5 šá bi-rit ÍDme GAZme ITU BI … […] 6 šá é-sag-íl ina a-mat LUGAL a-na … […] 7 Ème ITU BI U4 19 lúAGRIG […] 8 ina šu-ša-anki ana mu-ma-’i-ir-ú-tu […] 9 25 Itat-tan-nu lúGAL um-mu […] 1 … At that time, Jupiter was in Libra […] 2 Mars, which had set, was not visible. That month, … […] 3 the troops of the king fought against the troops [of the…] 4 mountain between the rivers and the […] 5 between the rivers were killed. That month, … […] 6 of the Esagila at the command of the king to … […] 7 went out. That month, the 19th day, the steward […] 8 in Susa to the governorship […] 9 on the 25th Tattannu, the chief … […] adart i No. -366, col. ii, 1–9 (Month ii (Ayyāru)) Here the Diaries make it clear that the activities of officials at the Esagila could be a matter of royal importance, even when the king was fighting wars abroad. In fact, the passage preserves the first record of a king’s direct involvement with the affairs of Babylon.33 In addition, it is the first longer historical ­narrative

32 33

In the Hellenistic kingdoms, royal power was considered to be vested in “the king, his friends and the troops”. For discussion of this phrase, see Austin (2003: 124–126); Musti (1984: 175–220, esp. 179). The first mention of Artaxerxes ii (by title, not by name) is in a diary entry for the eighth month of 377 bce which mentions both the king and the crown prince. Unfortunately, we have lost the context of this fragment but according to Diodorus Siculus Artaxerexes seems to have remained in Susa and was not in Babylon (Diod. 15.90.1–92.5, see discussion in van der Spek (1998: 253)). Because of the space left on the tablet, it is clear that there is only room for a relatively short statement, not a prolonged historical narrative, but this does not help us to determine the content of the entry any further.

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concerning any king in the Diaries. It therefore merits close attention. For the month in question, at least four different, and possibly interconnected, historical events are listed: a battle of the troops of the king,34 some official, possibly the administrator, of the Esagila going somewhere at the command of the king; a steward (lúAGRIG/abarakku) reported in Susa; and Tattannu, the chief [of something], engaging in some unspecified activity. The details about the Babylonian temple official are particularly suggestive: the phrase “went out” is commonly used in the Diaries to describe an official leaving Babylon.35 And indeed, on the 19th day of the same month a steward is recorded as being in Susa, one of the centres of Achaemenid power. We might speculate that the steward is the same as the Esagila official, and that it was he who went to Susa at the command of the king.36 Unfortunately, the staccato style of the text as well as its fragmentary nature make it hard to ascertain whether, and how, these events were connected. Towards the end of the passage, the narrative becomes even more difficult to reconstruct. Based on parallels elsewhere in the Diaries it might be possible to reconstruct the note on Tattannu as saying something to the effect that “to the governorship (muma’īrutu) […] Tattanu, the chief of the city, the king appointed”.37 Regardless of the precise reconstruction, the fragment shows that the Persian kings appeared in the Diaries exerting their influence in Babylon from a distance. Two entries from the Seleucid period show a similar exercise of longdistance authority by the king. The first example, a Diary entry from 272 bce, depicts the king’s presence through army officials: 11 ITU BI lúGAL ú-qu 2-ú šá LUGAL ina KUR URIki   ú-man-nu-ú a-na Eki KU 4 21 lúGAL ú-qu 1-en GU 4 12 [x x x] UDU.NITÁ a-na gi-nu-ú šá dEN a-na lúGÍR-LÁmeš šá é-sag-íl SUM-in u a-na dEN DÙ-u’ 11 That month, the new general38 whom the king had appointed in Babylonia entered Babylon. The 21st, the general gave 1 bull 12 and […] sheep for the regular offerings of Bel to the butchers of the Esagila, and they were sacrificed to Bel. adart i No. -273B obv. 11–12 (Month vii (Tašrītu)) 34 See p. 256, n. 67 below for discussion of the royal troops in this fragment. 35 See adart i No. -273 rev. 36’; adart ii Nos. -204 rev. 15; -187 rev. 18; -178 rev. 22; -171 rev. 8. 36 Although this passage does not give any indication of how these commands of the king were communicated, one possibility is reported in an entry from the time of Artaxerxes iii, about 20 years after the fragment discussed here, which mentions a royal edict (adart i No. -346 rev. 14–15). 37 For similar phrasing see adart iii No. -129A2 obv. 16–24. Cf. bchp 19 rev. 5–6. 38 See van der Spek (1993: 97, n. 22) for a discussion of the term lúGAL ú-qu 2-ú.

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The entry highlights the moment when the new general (lúGAL ú-qu 2-ú), who is appointed by the king, entered the city. By drawing attention to this moment, the diarist seems to imply that at this point the power of the king becomes manifest. The general (lúGAL ú-qu), contributes the sacrificial animals for an offering at the Esagila. This sacrifice indicates that royal dignitaries, who most likely were not Babylonians themselves, took an active part in the performance of Babylonian religious activities. Although the king was in Sardis that year — far from Babylonia — his presence was felt in the city.39 This entry shows that the royal presence by proxy works both on the level of real political power, with the appointment of the general, and on a more symbolic level, when royal officials subsidise the sacrifices of Babylonian temples. Roughly a century later, during the reign of Antiochus iv, the Seleucid kings continued to influence local Babylonian politics from a distance: A12 I TU BI U4-6-KÁM 1-en lúDUMU Eki lúKAB-SAR lúŠEŠ šá lúŠÀ-TAM A13 é-sag-gíl šá ana ku-um-mi-šú lúŠÀ-TAM-ú-tú ú-[še-piš] ina kušši-pištú šá LU·GAL ina lúza-zak-ú-tú pe-eq-du. A12 That month, the 6th, one inhabitant of Babylon, a jeweller, a brother of the administrator A13 of the Esagila, who in his stead p[erformed] the administrative duties, was entrusted with the office of zazakku by a message of the king. adart ii No. -168A rev. 13–14 (Month viii (Arahsamnu)) In this case, King Antiochus iv appointed the brother of the administrator of the Esagila (šatammu) first as “substitute šatammu” and subsequently to the office of zazakku.40 The zazakku was an important official who could issue orders on behalf of the king and was in control of the Esagila’s finances.41 This entry indicates that despite the changes the Seleucid Empire was undergoing in the reign of Antiochus iv, the Seleucid kings still maintained a presence in Babylon through local appointments. Indeed, Clancier argues that by

39 40 41

adart ii No. -273 rev. 29. For other instances of this appointing of substitute šatammu, see van der Spek (2000: 440–444). Clancier (2012: 320). Clancier argues that Antiochus iv Epiphanes (re-)introduced the office of zazakku, as an indigenous representative of the king, alongside the šatammu. Clancier (2012: 317–318), cf. Boiy (2004: 161 and 209). The zazakku was an office that already existed in Neo-Babylonian and Achaemenid times. It is, however, not attested during the early Seleucid period.

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r­ einstating the office of zazakku, the Seleucids strengthened their control over the Esagila at around this time.42 As we saw when considering the entry on Artaxerxes ii, the Diaries also register the movement of royal troops in relation to Babylon.43 In addition to the army signifying the military power of the king throughout the empire, many cities were also garrisoned by royal troops.44 In the following example from the reign of Seleucus ii, the Diaries report some civil unrest in Babylon in which the royal troops were also involved: 13’ [ITU] BI ṣal-tu4 KI É-GAL šá ina Eki [x x x IT]U BI 29 30 lúERÍNmeš TA É-GAL ki È-ni lúERÍNmeš LUGAL šá EN-NUN meš […] 13’ That [month], there was fighting in the area of the palace which is in Babylon […] That month, the 29th and 30th, when the troops from the palace came out, with the guard troops of the king [……] adart ii No. -236 obv. 13 (Month iii (Simānu)) In this month — an unhappy time during which Babylon was beset by a plague as well as locusts — the troops from the palace (lúERÍNmeš TA É-GAL) and guard troops of the king (lúERÍNmeš LUGAL) appear to have been involved in an attempt to restore order. Apparently, the garrison in Babylon was large enough to be divided into different units and have an elaborate command structure.45 Unfortunately, the last part of the sentence is missing, leaving us to guess whether the royal troops succeeded. It is clear, however, that there was a royal garrison stationed in Babylon throughout the Seleucid period and that these soldiers were used for internal Babylonian affairs as well as in skirmishes with external enemies.46 Under the Parthians, whose reign over Babylon is recorded from 141 bce until the last entry in 60 bce, the Diaries further emphasise the indirect presence of the king in Babylon. The Parthian kings, like the preceding dynasties, 42

Clancier (2012: 316–318); for the position of the zazakku at the time of Nabonidus, see Joannès (1994: 93–94); MacGinnis (1996); Dandamayev (1993: 34–40); Beaulieu (1993: 258). 43 Cf. adart i No. -366, col. ii, 3. For other references to the Persian troops, see adart i Nos. -651, col. iv, 10; -373, upper edge, 3; -369, rev. 8; -366, col. ii, 3. 44 See Boiy (2004: 120–121, 127–128; 217–218); Briant (2002: 66, 340, 376); Sherwin-White (1982: 58). 45 See Boiy (2004: 217–218). For the Greek evidence for the garrison, see the Greek ostracon AA (1941: 815 nr. 1), ogis 254 and Diodorus 19.91.3. 46 Sherwin-White (1982: 58–68, esp. 64, n. 43). For further references to the Seleucid garrison, and more generally the troops of the king, see adart i No. -273B rev. 32; adart ii Nos. -249A rev. 6; -237 obv. 13; -230 rev 11; -178 rev. 18; -176B 5; -171 rev. 1.

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ruled Babylon from afar. Their authority was not only imposed through appointed officials and the royal garrison, but also through extensive letter writing. Although it is very likely that communication between the kings and the city had been conducted via letters long before the beginning of Parthian rule, it is only in this period that the Diaries bring these letters to the fore.47 In the Parthian entries, letters are not only mentioned explicitly as a medium of communication between the king and the Babylonians; on several occasions, they are quoted outright, thus providing the king with a voice that spoke directly to the reader of the Diaries.48 In 119 bce, for example, the king sent a letter to the Babylonians describing his battle with the Gutians. In this passage, the king relates that he took revenge on the Gutians who killed his brother, by exacting a “great killing among them”: A18 [ITU] BI U4-15-KÁM kušSARmeš šá Iar-šá-ka-a LU[GAL a-na] A19 lúpa-ḫat Eki u lúpu-li-ṭa-an šá ina Eki SARmeš ina É IGI-TUḪ-A šá-su-ú ak-ka-i šá lúERÍNmeš MAḪmeš NIGIN-ma ù ana LÚ.NE GINmeš ana UGU DUMU LUGAL u lúERÍNmeš-šú šá URUmeš x [x x] A20 [x x g]u⸣-ti-i šá a-na Iár-ta-ba-na-a ŠEŠ-iá GAZ-ku ù ad-di-ir ana tar-ṣi-šú-nu u LÚ.NE e-pu-šú it-ti-šú-nu GAZ-tu4 GAL-tu4 ina lìbbi-šú-nu áš-kun e-lat 2 LÚ A21 [x x x] ul GAZmeš u DUMU LUGAL u ERÍNmeš-šú TA LÚ.NE BALma a-na ár-ki-šú a-na KURmeš dan-nu-tú iḫ-ḫi-is ITU BI lúGAL ERÍNmeš šá [ana] UGU 4 lúGAL ERÍNmeš áš-šú se-ke-[ri⸣...] A22 [x x x] x TUḪ-ir ITU BI lúar-ba-a-a GIM šá ina IGI-ma KÚRmeš ḫu-ub-tu SARmeš ITU BI Iar-šá-ka-a LUGAL ina URUmeš SUDmeš šá KUR gu-ti-iki áš-šú LÚ.NE D[Ù⸣ x] A18 That [month], the 15th, a leather document of king Arsaces, 47 See adart iii Nos. -140A rev. 5–9; -134B obv. 16–17; -132B rev. 18–26; -132D2 rev. 13–23; -129A2 obv. 16–24; -124A obv. 5–9; -124A rev. 20–24; -118A 18–22; -91 obv. 30–33. From the Seleucid period, the Diaries provide some indication of letter writing: adart i No. -273B rev. 35. Although it is quite clear that throughout the periods in which the Diaries were written the kings stayed in contact with the Babylonian elites via messages of various kinds, only in the Parthian period are these messages cited in the Diaries. Other commands sent by kings via a messenger were in all likelihood also committed to paper in the form of an order or a letter. See Briant (2002), Index s.v. royal letters, 1188, for the Persian letters. For the Hellenistic royal letters, see Ceccarelli (2013: 297–327); Bradford Welles (1934). For the Parthian letters, see Sciandra (2012: 225–248); Harmatta (1984: 220–223). 48 Cf. adart iii Nos. -132B rev. 18–26; -91 obv. 30–33. Not all letters quoted in the Diaries are written in the first person: adart iii Nos. -140A rev. 5–9; ad -132D2 rev. 13–23.

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A19 [which] was written to the governor of Babylon and the citizens who were in Babylon, was read in the theatre;49 accordingly, many troops assembled and went to fight against the son of the king and his troops of the cities […] A20 […of the G]utians who killed my brother Artabana, and I set up (troops) opposite them, and fought with them; a great killing I performed among them; except 2 men […] A21 […] were not killed; and the king’s son and his troops fled from the fight and withdrew to the difficult mountains. That month, the general who is above the 4 generals for damming⸣ A22 […] … departed. That month, the Arabs became hostile, as before, and plundered. That month, king Arsaces [went] to the remote cities of the Gutian country in order to fight. adart iii No. -118A rev. 18–22 (Month vii (Tašrītu)) Although the heading of the letter is not preserved, it is clear that the letter is written from the first-person perspective of the king; it repeatedly refers to “I”, and “my” brother Artabana. By quoting the letters, the Diaries present the words of the king himself, recorded in Akkadian by the Babylonian scribes for the sake of a Babylonian audience. Significantly, the Diaries reserve the use of direct speech for the Parthian kings and the compilers of the Diaries themselves; these two groups are the only ones referred to in the first-person singular.50 This gives the Parthian kings a distinct presence in the Diaries, quite unlike the Seleucids and the Achaemenids. Although the astronomical data retained largely the same format throughout the history of the Diaries, the historical entries underwent significant innovation, as evidenced here by the addition of a new voice — the voice of the king.51 By including extracts from royal letters, the diarists recorded the words of the king for the Babylonian 49 50

51

See van der Spek (2001: 453–4) for a new edition and discussion of this passage. The writers of the Diaries use the first person to describe their own reports, in both the astronomical and the historical sections. E.g. adart i No. -264 obv. 10’: I heard that the king […]; adart ii No. -183 rev.’ 11 obv. 5: “That [mo]nth, I heard as follows […]”; adart ii No. -168A obv.’ 14: “That month, I heard as follows […]”; No. -124B obv. 20: “That month, I heard […]”; see also Tuplin, this volume. In the Parthian period, the historical entries of the Diaries became longer and more detailed; see Tuplin (this volume). Pirngruber has argued that the change in the historical entries reflects the changing purpose of the texts (Pirngruber (2013: 197–210)). He suggests that the historical entries became more detailed because the Diaries took over the role of the chronicles, which seem to have ceased after the early Seleucid period (Pirngruber (2013: 197–210); Grayson (1975: 22)). The change of style coincides with a notable ­expansion in the size and frequency of historical entries, a fact that supports Pirngruber’s

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archive and emphasised the closeness between the king and the city. This does not, however, necessarily indicate a closer relationship between the king and Babylon in Parthian times. In fact, the need for such new measures may be indicative of a growing sense of alienation between the Babylonian elites and the Parthian king.52 4 Sacrifices In addition to describing the king’s influence in Babylon through appointments and letters, the Diaries also record sacrifices for the life of the king, thereby evoking the king’s presence in the context of Babylonian religion.53 These sacrifices are first attested in the high Seleucid period, during the reign of Antiochus iii, and become a well-established feature of the Diaries down to the Parthian period. The earliest preserved mention of such a sacrifice is in 205 bce:54 14  …… [ITU] BI U4-8-KÁM Ian LUGAL u [LÚ x] 15  [TA] É-GAL È-ni a-na KÁ SIKIL [x (x) é]-sag-gíl ḫa-ru-ú šá MU [x] 16 [x] [x] é-sag-gíl ina IGImeš-šú-nu DÙ-uš N[IDBA ⸣] [x x] [d]AMARUTU KAR ⸣ [x] 17 […] [x] šá li-pi-šú-nu GAR-nu-u’ ana E-U4-l-KÁM KU 4 [x x] 18 […d]15 TIN-TIRki u bul-ṭu šá Ian LUGAL DÙ […] 14 That [month,] on the 8th, king Antiochus and the…. 15 went out [from] the palace to the gate … of the Esagila…. 16 […] of the Esagila he made before them. Offerings … Marduk-ēṭir…. 17 […] of their descendants were set, entered the akitu temple […] 18  […] made [sacrifices for] Ištar of Babylon and the life of king Antiochus […] adart ii No. -204C rev. 14–18 (Month i (Nisannu))

52 53

54

argument that the later Diaries may have assumed some of the functions of the Chronicles (Pirngruber (2013: 200–202)). See Haubold, this volume, pp. 269–293; cf. Sciandra (2012: 225–248). It is debated whether these sacrifices should be interpreted as a top-down version of ruler cult instituted by the kings or a local manifestation of reverence to the king; for discussion see Clancier (2011: 752–774); Linssen (2004: 125); Sherwin-White (1983: 156–159); van der Spek (1985: 557–561). See van der Spek (2016: 52–53), for a possible earlier attestation.

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Due to the fragmentary state of the passage, the context of this sacrifice is unclear. However, the 8th day of Nisannu is a highlight of the akītu festival and the prime day for the king to participate. Although the subject of line 18 is missing it is likely Antiochus iii himself was conducting the sacrifice;55 what we do know is that sacrifices for the life of the king were connected to sacrifices to Ištar of Babylon. Elsewhere, the diarists connect them with sacrifices for the Babylonian national god Bēl and his spouse Zarpānītu (Bēltīya).56 In this way, the Diaries placed the kings at the centre of religious life in Babylon, despite the fact that they were rarely present to participate in Babylonian cult. On some occasions, the Diaries report that offerings were not only conducted for the life of the king but included the entire royal family. C19’ U4-6 ina KÁ du-de-[e…] KÁ-SIKIL-LA lúŠÀ-TAM é-sag-íl u lúEkimeš C20’ G U 4 ù 5 SISKURmeš a-na […lúGAL ERÍN KUR UR]Iki meš ul-te-zizu-ú NIDBA a-na dEN dGAŠAN-iá C21’ D INGIRmeš GALmeš ù a-na b[ul-ṭu šá] Ise-lu-ku LUGAL DAM-šú ù lúAmeš-šú C19’ The 6th, at the … gate […] Kasikila, the administrator of the Esagila and the Babylonians C20’ provided an ox and 5 (sheep) sacrifices to [the commander of the troops of Babylo]nia; he performed offerings to Bēl, Bēltīya, C21’ the great gods, and for the life [of] king Seleucus, his wife, and his sons… adart ii No. -178C rev. 19–21 (Month xii (Addaru)) In this entry from 179 bce, the šatammu of the Esagila provides livestock for sacrifices to the gods, the king and the royal family. Such acknowledgments of the importance of the royal couple, and the royal family, in Babylonian religion, are typical of the Seleucid period and are not found either before or after. The Parthian Diaries continue recording sacrifices that were conducted 55 Compare adart ii No. -187 rev. 5–8: in 188/187 bce, when King Antiochus is in Babylon, the Diary records that he himself conducts the sacrifices for his own life and the life of his queen Laodice: 5’ their … […sacrificed] cattle and sheep for his life and for the life of his wife and his sons […]|6’ […] which were in his hands … this … this … three times with the … merrymaking and […]|7’ […] entered. The 4th, at Kasikila, the great gate of the Esagila … cattle and sheep for Bel, Be[ltiya…] |8’ [… for the life] of his wife and his sons he sacrificed (and) prostrated himself. 56 Sacrifices for the life of the king are preceded by a sacrifice to Ištar, Bel/Marduk or Bel and Beltiya at adart ii Nos. -204; -187 rev. 5–6; -178C rev. 18–22; -171 rev. 3–4; -171 rev. 1–8; adart iii No. -107 rev. 17–18.

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for the king of kings, but they do not mention his family in this connection. Hellenistic culture glorified the love and romantic relationship between the king and the queen as a symbol of the stability of the state. The Diaries’ interest in sacrifices for the wife and children of the Seleucid kings seems to reflect precisely that interest in the royal family as the political and emotional centre of the empire.57 During the Parthian period, sacrifices become a more common theme in the Diaries.58 Moreover, sacrifices are now reported to have been made for the governor and the general of Babylon as well, who were both appointed representatives of the king. 23’ […] lúUKKIN šá é-sag-gíl 1-en GU 4 ù 4 SISKUR ina KÁ-DUMUNUN-NA šá É-sag-gíl 24’ [… ana bul]-ṭu šá LUGAL u ana bul-ṭi-šú GAR-an U4-15 1-en GU 4 ù 3 SISKUR 25’ [a-na lúmu-ma-’i-ir KUR U]RIki MU-a-tì ina KÁ-DUMU-NUN-NA šá É-sag-gíl GUBmeš NIDBA GIM IGI-ú GAR-an. 23’ […] the assembly of the Esagila [provided] one bull and 4 (sheep) sacrifices in the “Gate of the Son of the Prince” of the Esagila 24’ […] he performed [offerings for the li]fe of the king and his own life. The 15th, one bull and 3 (sheep) sacrifices 25’ […] the provided for this [satrap of Baby]lonia in the “Gate of the Son of the Prince” of the Esagila; he performed offerings as before. adart iii No. -133B obv. 24–26 (Month xi, Šabāṭu)

In this passage, we read about two sacrifices in the same month. Both sacrifices seem to have involved the satrap of Babylonia, who performed them for the life of the king and for himself. In this fragment, the sacrifices for the king were linked to the “Gate of the Son of the Prince”, the location where the animals were presented to the satrap.59 From the reign of Mithridates i of Parthia onwards, the Diaries record regular sacrifices at this location, usually ­consisting 57 58

59

The same focus on the royal family may be observed in reports about the deaths of the Seleucid queens, discussed below (pp. 260–261). See Huijs (2014: 605–642) for the Parthian queens. adart iii Nos. -160A obv. 2–3(⸣); -144 rev. 18–20; -140 upper edge 1–2; -137D obv. 23–28; -136C rev. 13; -133bc obv. 24–26; -132A rev. 1–3, D2 rev. 14–15; -129A1 obv. 13–15; -126A rev. 4–5, B rev. 5–8; -124A rev. 19–20; -111B rev. 8–12; -107C rev. 17–19; -105AB obv. 14–15; -87A rev. 14–16; -86B 9; -82B rev. 2; -78 13; -77A obv. 27, 30–31. The Gate of the Son of the Prince was part of the Esagila temple complex. For references, see Boiy (2004: 82, note 52).

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of one bull and three or four sheep. Due to the fragmentary nature of the tablets, it is not always clear whether the king is mentioned. However, the gate seems to have become an important location for royal cult.60 In the Parthian period, the sacrifices for the life of the king take a central place in Babylonian religion, linking the king and his officials to the great gods of Babylon: Bēl, Bēltīya, and Ištar. These sacrifices not only reflect historical reality, but also become a recurring theme in the text. By highlighting royal cult in many entries, the Diaries evoked the presence of the Parthian kings in Babylon in an indirect way. 5

The King, Babylon and the Empire

Finally, I look at those passages in the Diaries where the king appears without prima facie engaging with Babylon at all. The first example introduces Artaxerxes i in the context of foreign regions in the west and at first glance does not seem to pertain to Babylon even in the indirect way that we have seen so far: 4’  […] KUR sa-mi-né-e URU SIG-ú šá KUR ku-up-ru šá ana DÙ […] 5’  […] X su-un-du KUR ia-a-mu-un-ia-am-mu šá LUGAL DÙ-u[š…] 4’  […] the land Samine, a famous city of the land Kupru, which for ­making […] 5’  […]sundu of the land Iamuniammu which the king made […] adart i No. -440 rev. 4–5 (Month XII 2 (Addaru)) In this short and broken fragment, the diarist records that the king is active at the ends of the world rather than focusing his attention on Babylon (Kupru ~ Cyprus, Iamuniammu ~ Ionia).61 This scenario fits well with the selfpresentation of the Persian kings as conquerors of the far corners of the earth; an image that can also be seen in Achaemenid empire lists and reliefs at Susa and Persepolis.62 Mention of Ionia indicates that the focus of the report lies in the West and is possibly related to the Persian subjugation of Salamis.63

60 61 62 63

The royal cult is a hotly debated issue, see Pirngruber (2010: 531–549) for discussion with previous literature. Kuhrt (2007: 389); van der Spek (1998: 240–241). See also Koch (1993: 39) discussing NeoElamite documents on Cypriot workmen (oip 92, no. 1527, cf. Tuplin (1996: 42–43)). Briant (2002: 172–180), see especially the Persepolis empire list (DPe) with its mention of “the Ionians of the plain and the sea and the lands beyond the sea” (Briant (2002: 173)). Kuhrt (2007: 389); van der Spek (1993: 96).

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Beyond the historical details, the Diaries portray the Persian kings as reaching beyond the borders of the sea all the way to Cyprus.64 At first sight, this entry appears to reflect an Achaemenid perspective on the world rather than that of the Babylonian elites. However, when we read the fragment in the context of the Diaries as a whole, the king becomes a figure that connects the borders of the empire with the centre that is Babylon. Indeed, we can take this one step further. As Kathryn Stevens points out in this volume, places outside Babylonia are only mentioned in the Diaries in relation to the king or his representatives and never in another context.65 From the perspective of the Diaries, which are mostly concerned with events in Babylon, and to a lesser extent the region of Babylonia, the king does not just connect the empire with the city, he becomes himself the representative of Babylon in the wider world. In the Diaries, the king, or on some occasions the royal family, embodies Babylon wherever they go. Besides representing Babylon in the wider world, the Persian kings as represented in the Diaries also fight its enemies. In the entry for 367 bce, quoted above, Artaxerxes ii fought a battle with enemies from the mountains.66 The relevant part of the text is unfortunately fragmentary, but it can be reconstructed as follows: “the troops of the king fought against the troops [of the king of the mountain] between the rivers and the [troops of the king of] the mountain between the rivers were killed”.67 Throughout Mesopotamian history, mountain peoples feature as the “barbarians” on Babylon’s doorstep. The mountains were the haunt of adversaries like the Gutians, the Elamites and peoples from the Armenian highlands, who were at different times at war with Mesopotamian rulers.68 Narām-Sîn, for example, the ruler of the Akkadian 64

65 66 67

68

Haubold has argued that in their focus on the Western Sea the Achaemenids made use of “pre-existing scripts of world conquest” created by stories about mythical kings such as Sargon of Akkad: Haubold (2012: 6); Haubold (2013: 102–106); cf. Bachvarova (2016: 166– 198); Foster (2016). These stories were continuously re-enforced by successive rulers who cast their realms as “world empires” bordered by the “upper and lower sea”; see Haubold (2012: 7); Haubold (2013: 104–105); cf. Westenholz (2007: 21–27). Stevens, this volume, pp. 198–236; Stevens (2013: 168–169). adart i No. -366 col. ii 3; cf. p. 246 above. The geographical designation referring to “the mountain” might indicate the location of the battle, or more likely the origin of the enemy troops. Although it is unclear where this episode took place it is likely that, if the two rivers refer to the Euphrates and the Tigris, the setting is somewhere in Mesopotamia. For a slightly different reconstruction, see van der Spek (1998: 253–256); van der Spek (1997/1998: 171, n. 18). For the Gutians, see Van de Mieroop (2002), with further bibliography; the Elamites, too, are characterised by their mountainous origins (cf. Potts (1999)). The kingdom of Urartu, located in the mountains of Armenia, was the sworn enemy of the Assyrians and featured in Akkadian literature since the 12th century bce as a hostile and barbarous land (see,

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empire at the end of the third millennium bce and the grandson of Sargon of Akkad, erected a famous stele to commemorate his victory over the tribes of the Zagros mountains.69 By echoing this canonical view of the imperial past, the Diaries cast Artaxerxes ii as a quintessential Babylonian king. More generally, when depicting the king fighting abroad, the Diaries consistently suggest the image of an ideal Babylonian ruler. The kings in the Diaries, who were initially foreign aggressors themselves, thus become the defenders of Babylon. A further illustration is provided by an extensive entry from 274 bce, which describes a conflict between the Ptolemies and the Seleucids. In this Diary entry, the rivalry between the two successor kingdoms is modelled on the centuries-old animosity between the Neo-Babylonian kings and pharaonic Egypt.70 The entry reports how the Seleucid king Antiochus i prepared for battle with the Egyptians, with the help of the satrap of Babylon: 29’ M U BI LUGAL UDmeš-šú DAM-su u NUN SIG-ú ina KUR {ina} sa-par-du áš-šú d[u-un]-nun EN-NUN ú-maš-šìr a-na e-ber ÍD ana UGU lúERÍN mi-ṣir 30’ šá ina e-ber ÍD ŠUB-ú GIN-ik-am-ma lúERÍN mi-ṣir ina IGI-šú BALú ŠE U4-24-K[ÁM l]ú mu-ma-’i-ir KUR URIki KÙ-BABBAR túgmuṣip-tu4 NÍG-ŠU ù […] 31’ M AḪ TA Eki u uruse-lu-ku- ’a-a URU LUGAL-tú ù 20 AM-SImeš šá lú[mu-ma]- ’i-ir· uruba-aḫ-tar ana LUGAL ú-še-bil ana e-ber ÍD 32’ ana muḫ-ḫi LUGAL È ŠE ITU BI lúGAL ú-qu lúERÍN LUGAL šá ina KUR URIki TA SAG-šú EN T[IL]-šú ú-pa-ḫir-ma ana Á-DAḪ LUGAL-ma ina ituBAR a-na e-ber ÍD GIN-ik 29’ That year, the king left his…, his wife and a famous official in the land Sardis to strengthen the guard. He went to Transpotamia against the troops of Egypt

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for example, the inscriptions of Shalmaneser i (13th century, Grayson (1972: no. 527–532)) and Sargon ii (8th century, Fuchs (1994: Ann. 101–107)), cf. Melville (2016: 116–140)). Victory Stele of Narām-Sîn (see Harper (1992: no. 109)). Cf. the text known as “Narām-Sîn and the Enemy Hordes”; the Babylonian recension of the text represents the enemies of Babylon as originating from the mountains (Westenholz (1997: 310–312)). The historical events in the entry are part of the First Syrian War, one of many wars over Coele Syria that the Seleucids and Ptolemies fought in the third and second centuries bce. In the First Syrian War (274–271 bce) Antiochus i fought against Ptolemy ii. Cf. Grainger (2010: 81–86); Ager (2003: 37–41); Sherwin-White (1993: 46–47).

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30’ which were encamped in Transpotamia, and the troops of Egypt withdrew before him. Month xii, the 24th day, the satrap of Babylonia brought out much silver, cloth, goods, and utensils 31’ from Babylon and Seleucia, the royal city, and 20 elephants, which the satrap of Bactria had sent to the king, to Transpotamia 32’ before the king. That month, the general gathered the troops of the king, which were in Babylonia, from beginning to end, and went to the aid of the king in month i to Transpotamia. adart i No. -273B obv. 29–32 (Month xii (Addaru)) This passage is the beginning of a longer historical entry that describes Antiochus’ campaign in “Transpotamia” — eber nāri or Syria — and the exploits of various Babylonian officials during this campaign.71 We read that the king left his wife in Sardis to engage the troops of Egypt — i.e. the Ptolemaic army — in a conflict over Coele Syria.72 This entry uses the same name for Egypt (Miṣir) as older Babylonian chronicles in which Egypt was the enemy of the ­Neo-Babylonian kings.73 At one level, this is not surprising: Miṣir was still the standard name for Egypt in the Hellenistic Diaries. Still, the ancient name evoked a long history of conflict between Egypt and Babylon.74 Both the Neo-Babylonian and the Persian kings had fought with the Egyptians in the first millennium, and their battles were well-known to Hellenistic audiences.75 By emphasising the link with 71

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This entry, from the Diary that records SE 38 (272 bce), also mentions events that happened in the two years before, SE 36 and 37. It is impossible to tell how, if at all, these entries were linked to the historical entries in their own respective years, as the relevant sections of the Diaries are missing. Besides the Diaries there are only two other Greek and Egyptian sources that cover this conflict: Pausanias 1.7.1–3 and the Pithom stele of Ptolemy ii. Glassner (2004: 201–203, 208–211; 219); Grayson (1975, no. 1B). For example, in the Chronicle of Nabopolassar and the fall of the Assyrian Empire (ABC 3) the “troops of Miṣir” fight alongside the Assyrians against Babylon. The choice of the name becomes more marked if one considers that in a later year, the Diaries use another name to designate Egypt. In adart ii No. -168 obv. 5, we read that “Antiochus the king marched triumphantly through the cities of Meluḫḫa”. Meluḫḫa was one of the place names that marked the outer reaches of the empire for legendary kings like Narām-Sîn and Sargon. Originally it seems to have referred to the Indus valley culture in the Far East. (Kosmin (2014: 140, 175); see Potts (1982) for discussion and further references.) In the first millennium, its meaning shifted to refer to Egypt and Ethiopia, and it became an archaising term to designate the borders of the world, albeit now in the west. Liverani (2014); Collins (2008); Liverani (2001). Briant (2002: 44–60, 472–484, 717–718). E.g. ABC 5 (Chronicle of Jerusalem); the Wadi Brisa inscription, both commemorating the campaigns of Nebuchadnezzar and his father Nabopolasser against the Egyptians. Nebuchadnezzar’s Egyptian campaign was still

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the past, the Diaries superimpose the geo-political traditions of Babylon onto what was essentially a dispute among two Macedonian kingdoms. The entry continues with a focus on two local Babylonian officials, the satrap of Babylonia and the general of the troops stationed in Babylonia, who support the king in his war against the Ptolemies. We read that the Babylonian satrap goes to Syria with silver and clothes and twenty Bactrian elephants, and that in the same month the general musters the troops of the king in Babylonia and joins Antiochus i in Syria. In this way, the diarist evokes the image of resources and people flowing from the eastern ends of the realm in Bactria to Babylon and on to the king in the far west. Babylon assumes a central position in the networks that connect the empire with the king. During Parthian times, the Diaries continue to depict kings fighting enemies in foreign lands: the troops of Guti land,76 the enemy from Mesene,77 the troops of Media,78 and most importantly, the Elamites:79 17’  U4 BI kušSARmeš [LUGA]L šá ana muḫ-ḫi lúpa-ḫat Eki u lúpu-li-te-e šá ina Eki SARmeš ina É IGI-DUḪ-A šá-su-ú um-ma ṣal-tu4 18’  [x x x I]pi-it-ti-it, lúKÚR NIM-MAki DÙ-ma 15 lim ERÍN-ni MÈ ina ŠÀ ERÍN-ni-šú ina gišTU[KUL x x]-qit⸣-ma ḫa x ru-ú ina lìb-bi ERÍN-ni-iá NU GAR-an KUR NIM-MAki pa-aṭ gim-ri-šú ina gišTUKUL SÌG-aṣ Ipi-it-ti-it 19’  […] x x x aṣ-bat. 17’  That day, the message of the king which was written to the governor of Babylon and the citizens who were in Babylon, was read in the theatre as follows: “Fighting 18’  […] Pittit, the Elamite enemy, I made, and 15 thousand battle troops among his troops I [overth]rew in battle; among my troops no … took place. Elam in its entirety I smote with weapons. Pittit 19’  […] … I seized”. adart iii No. -124B rev. 17–19 (Month x (Ṭebētu))

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well remembered by the end of the first millennium, as is clear from the fact that Berossus wrote about it in his Babyloniaca. The Greek historians also described Persian exploits in Egypt, cf. Herodotus, 7.3–7 (Xerxes); 3.3.3–3.19.3 (Cambyses). adart iii No. -136B obv. 11–17; -72, 6–11. Friend of the Elamite enemy: adart iii No. -132 rev. 18–21. adart iii No. -126A obv. 1–7. adart iii Nos. -144 obv. 14–18, rev. 17–21; -143A 18–21; -140C obv. 36–44, rev. 29–42; -137A rev. 4–11, B rev. 19–22, C rev. 16–17, D obv. 9–14, rev. 1–2; -132D2 rev. 13–23, D1 rev. 7–10; -124B obv. 19–22, B rev. 12–20; -77B rev. 13–17.

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In this passage, the Parthian king proclaims his victory over the Elamites in a letter that was read to the citizens of Babylon in the theatre (lit. “house of observation”).80 Again, we see an example of the Parthian king being quoted in the Diaries.81 The Elamites were traditional enemies of Babylon.82 In previous entries they had threatened the city, so by defeating Pittit, Arsaces showed that an enemy of Babylon was also an enemy of the king. Although the kingdom of Elam had been destroyed by the Achaemenids at the end of the 6th century, in the Diaries the king of Elam returned to the stage of world politics.83 For the diarists this meant they could identify another ancient motif of Babylonian history in the often chaotic events of their own time. When places outside Babylonia are mentioned in the Diaries, the king is often portrayed as a conqueror or a defender. In some cases, however, places outside Babylonia appear in connection with royal deaths. This again demonstrates that the king is a focal point of attention, even when he is absent from Babylon. During the Seleucid period, some entries also show an interest in the royal family that does not directly involve the king.84 A short but telling example from the reign of Antiochus ii is the historical entry from 254 bce that mentions the death of Queen Stratonice, who appeared earlier in the Diaries as the wife whom Antiochus i left behind in Sardis: B16  I TU BI ina Eki it-téš-mu-[u] u[m-ma fas]-ta-rat-ni-qé GAŠAN ina urusa-par-du šim-tu4 ub-til-šú B16  That month it was heard in Babylon: queen Stratonice died in Sardis. adart ii No. -253B1 obv. 6 (Month vii (Tašrītu)) This entry is all the more remarkable because in 254 bce Stratonice was not the reigning queen any more. Her son Antiochus ii became king after his father’s death in 261 bce and Stratonice was the Queen Mother. The report of

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See also van der Spek 2001: 451–453 for this passage in a discussion of the theatre. Earlier in the same entry the diary records another letter sent to the Babylonians from Aspasine the king of Mesene⸣, to the effect that king Arsaces fought Pittit (Pitthides in Greek) the Elamite. 82 Further discussion in Haubold (this volume). For Elam’s wars in the Near East, see Potts (2011: 39–47); Vallat (1998: 301–313); Potts (1999); Vallat (1980). 83 Potts (2011: 39–47); cf. Vallat (1998: 301–313), for bibliography on the Elamites in different time periods in the Near East. 84 King: adart iii No. -163C2 obv. 18’. Queen: adart ii No. -181 rev. 7–13.

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her death is indicative of her political importance in Babylon.85 As in other entries from the Seleucid period, the interest shown in the person of the queen must have been inspired by a distinctly Hellenistic interest in the royal couple, and Hellenistic views of the queen being crucial to the proper exercise of kingship.86 Again we see that, despite their consistent attempts to link current events to ancient ideals of Babylonian kingship, the diarists also responded to developments in the culture of their times, and incorporated such developments into their own narrative. 6 Conclusion The Astronomical Diaries were recorded by the Babylonian elites for more than six centuries. For most of this period, Babylon was ruled by foreign kings. In this chapter, I explored how the Astronomical Diaries portrayed these foreign rulers and how their portrayal reflected Babylon’s relationship with successive empires. First I discussed moments in the text when the kings are said to have been physically present in Babylon. These rare occurrences provide us with an insight into what it meant to be a foreign ruler and a Babylonian king, according to the Diaries. I then showed that the presence and power of the king was felt to extend beyond those rare moments when he visited Babylon. The king exerts his power through intermediaries, thus taking an interest in the city while he is away, just as the city takes an interest in the king and his activities while he is away from Babylon. In several entries, kings are portrayed as defenders of Babylon and conquerors abroad. On these occasions, the king’s power 85

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Stratonice’s importance is also exemplified in the Borsippa Cylinder (Borsippa Cylinder, col. ii, v. 24–27). In Greek literature, the love between Antiochus and Stratonice was a well-known example of a royal love story. Plutarch, Life of Demetrius, 31–32; Appian, Syriaca 59–61; Lucian, De Dea Syria 17; Lucian, Icaromenippus 15; Julian, Misopogon 60–64. For further discussion see Ogden (1999: 121–124); Sherwin-White and Kuhrt (1993: 24–25); Mehl (1986: 230–286); Breebaart (1967: 154–164). See, for example, the entry on Antiochus i leaving his wife in Sardis (adart i No. -273B obv. 29–32); and Antiochus ii with his children (adart ii No. -245A obv. 11–13). See also my earlier discussion of sacrifices for the family of the king, pp. 253–254 above. Another interesting entry is adart ii No. -181, where the death of queen Laodice is reported first to King Seleucus iv in Seleucia on the Tigris and two days later to the people in Babylon. This is remarkable because the best-known queen named Laodice at the time, Laodice iv, the wife of Seleucus iv, did not die in 181 but married Seleucus’ brother after his death. It is unclear if the report of the Diaries is inaccurate or if king Seleucus had two wives who were both called Laodice (Ogden (1999)).

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manifests itself outside Babylon, but he is not therefore divorced from the city. In fact, the exploits of the king, the royal family and their representatives (usually troops or officials) mark the only occasions when the Diaries take account of the world outside of Babylonia. The Diaries reflect a view of Babylonian history that was the result of a careful selection by the Babylonian priests, rather than an unedited and uncritical record of events. This becomes especially apparent when we consider how they portrayed the king. To appreciate the significance of the choices they made it is particularly important to trace the development of the genre over time. For one thing, the volume of information pertaining to the king and his activities increased over time. There are also changes in how the Diaries portray the king, from the Seleucid entries with their emphasis on the royal family, to the Parthian ones and their insistence on capturing the voice of the king by quoting from his letters. Still, this chapter reveals that the ideal of kingship that underpins the Diaries remained largely stable throughout the centuries. The king may not have been present in Babylon very often, but the Diaries make it clear that he is still the king of Babylon, not merely of a vast and diverse empire. References Ager, S.L., 2003, “An Uneasy Balance: From the Death of Seleukos to the Battle of Raphia”, in A. Erskine (ed.), A Companion to the Hellenistic World (Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishing), 35–50. Anson, E.M., 2014, Alexander’s Heirs: The Age of the Successors (Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell). Austin, M.M., 2003, “The Seleucids and Asia”, in A. Erskine (ed.), A Companion to the Hellenistic World (Oxford: Blackwell Publishing), 121–133. Bachvarova, M.R., 2016, From Hittite to Homer: The Anatolian Background of Ancient Greek Epic (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press), 166–198. Beaulieu, P.-A., 1993, “An episode in the fall of Babylon to the Persians”, Journal of Near Eastern Studies 52, 258. Bernard, P., 1990, “Nouvelle contribution de l’épigraphie cunéiforme à l’histoire hellénistique”, Bulletin de correspondance hellénique 114, 513–541. Bidmead, J., 2002, The Akītu Festival: Religious Continuity and Royal Legitimation in Mesopotamia (Piscataway, NJ: Gorgias Press). Boiy, T., 2004, Late Achaemenid and Hellenistic Babylon (Leuven: Peeters). Boiy, T., 2007, Between High and Low: A Chronology of the Early Hellenistic Period (Frankfurt am Main: Verlag Antike e.K).

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Boiy, T., 2010, “Royal and Satrapal Armies in Babylonia during the Second Diadoch War. The Chronicle of the Successors on the Event during the Seventh Year of Philip Arrhidaeus (=317/316 BC)”, Journal of Hellenic Studies 130, 1–13. Bosworth, A.B., 1980, A Historical Commentary on Arrian’s History of Alexander. Commentary on Books i–iii (Oxford: Oxford University Press). Bosworth, A.B., 1988, Conquest and Empire: The Reign of Alexander the Great (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press). Bosworth, A.B., 2002, The Legacy of Alexander: Politics, Warfare, and Propaganda under the Successors (Oxford: Oxford University Press). Bosworth, A.B. and E.J. Baynham (eds), 2000, Alexander the Great in Fact and Fiction (Oxford: Oxford University Press). Bradford Welles, C., 1934, Royal Correspondence in the Hellenistic Period (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press). Braund, D., 2003, “After Alexander: The Emergence of the Hellenistic World 323–281”, in A. Erskine (ed.) A Companion to the Hellenistic World (Oxford: Blackwell Publishing), 19–34. Breebaart, A.B., 1967, “King Seleucus i, Antiochus, and Stratonice”, Mnemosyne 20, 154–164. Briant, P., 2002, From Cyrus to Alexander: A History of the Persian Empire, trans. P.T. Daniels (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns). Briant, P., 2015, Darius in the Shadow of Alexander (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press). Ceccarelli, P., 2013, Ancient Greek Letter Writing. A Cultural History 600 BC – 150 BC (Oxford: Oxford University Press). Clancier, P., 2011, “Cuneiform Culture’s Last Guardians: The Old Urban Notability of Hellenistic Uruk”, in K. Radner and E. Robson (eds), The Oxford Handbook of Cuneiform Culture (Oxford: Oxford University Press), 752–774. Clancier, P., 2012, “Le shatammu, l’assemblée et les Babyloniens de l’Esagil à l’époque hellénistique: Les notables de Babylone: du relais local à la marginalisation”, in C. Feyel, J. Fournier, L. Graslin-Thomé and F. Kirbihler (eds), Communautés locales et pouvoir central dans l’Orient hellénistique et romain, (Nancy: Presses Universitaires de Nancy), 297–326. Cohen, M.E., 1993, The Cultic Calendars of the Ancient Near East (Bethesda, MD: CDL Press). Collins, P., 2008, From Egypt to Babylon The International Age, 1550–500 BC (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press). Dandamayev, M.A., 1993, “The Neo-Babylonian zazakku”, Altorientalische Forschungen 21, 34–40. De Breucker, G.E.E., 2012, De Babyloniaca van Berossos van Babylon: Inleiding, editie en commentaar. PhD-thesis (Groningen: Rijksuniversiteit Groningen).

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van der Spek, R.J., 1985, “The Babylonian Temple during the Macedonian and Parthian Domination”, Bibliotheca Orientalis 42, 541–562. van der Spek, R.J., 1993, “The Astronomical Diaries as a Source for Achaemenid and Seleucid History”, Bibliotheca Orientalis 50, 91–101. van der Spek, R.J., 1997/1998, “New Evidence from the Babylonian Astronomical Diaries Concerning Seleucid and Arsacid History”, Archiv für Orientforschung 44/45, 167–175. van der Spek, R.J., 1998, “The Chronology of the Wars of Artaxerxes ii in the Babylonian Astronomical Diaries”, in M. Brosius and A. Kuhrt (eds), Achaemenid History xi: Studies in Persian History. Essays in Memory of David M. Lewis, (Leiden: Nederlands Instituut voor het Nabije Oosten), 239–256. van der Spek, R.J., 2000, “The šatammus of Esagila in the Seleucid and Parthian Periods”, in J. Marzahn, H. Neumann (eds.), Assyriologica et Semitica. Festschrift für Joachim Oelsner anlässlich seines 65. geburtstages am 18. Februar 1997. Alter Orient und Altes Testament 252 (Münster 2000), 437–446. van der Spek, R.J., 2001, “The theatre of Babylon in cuneiform”, in W.H. van Soldt, e.a., (eds.), Veenhof Anniversary Volume. Studies presented to Klaas R. Veenhof on the occasion of his sixty-fifth birthday (Leiden 2001), 445–456. van der Spek, R.J., 2003, “Darius iii, Alexander the Great and Babylonian Scholarship”, in W. Henkelman and A. Kuhrt (eds), Achaemenid History xiii: A Persian Perspective: Essays in Memory of Heleen Sancisi-Weerdenburg, (Leiden: Nederlands Instituut voor het Nabije Oosten), 289–342. van der Spek, R.J., 2008, “Berossos as a Babylonian Chronicler and Greek Historian”, in R.J van der Spek (ed.) Studies in the Ancient Near Eastern World View and Society presented to Marten Stol on the occasion of his 65th birthday (Bethesda, MD: CDL Press), 277–318. van der Spek, R.J., 2014, “Seleukos, self-appointed general (strategos) of Asia (311–305 B.C.), and the satrapy of Babylonia”, in H. Hauben & A. Meeus (eds.), The Age of the Successors and the Creation of the Hellenistic Kingdoms (323-276 B.C.). Studia Hellenistica 58. (Leuven: Peeters 2014), 323–42. van der Spek, R.J., 2016, “The Cult for Seleukos ii and his Sons in Babylon”, Nouvelles Assyriologiques Brèves et Utilitaires, no. 1, 52–53. Tuplin, C., 1996, Achaemenid Studies (Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag). Vallat, F., 1980, Suse et l’Élam, Recherche sur les grandes civilisations (Paris: Mémoire). Vallat, F., 1998, “ELAM i. The history of Elam”, Encyclopaedia Iranica 8.3, 301–313, (online version updated in 2011). Van de Mieroop, M., 2002, “Gutians”, Encyclopaedia Iranica 11.4, 408–410. Waerzeggers, C., 2011, “The Pious King: Royal Patronage of Temples”, in K. Radner and E. Robson (eds) The Oxford Handbook of Cuneiform Culture (Oxford: Oxford University Press, Oxford), 725–751.

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Waerzeggers, C., 2015, “Babylonian Kingship in the Persian Period: Performance and Reception”, in J. Stökl and C. Waerzeggers (eds) Exile and Return: the Babylonian Context, (Berlin: De Gruyter), 181–222. Westenholz, J.G., 1997, Legends of the Kings of Akkade: The Texts, (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns). Westenholz, J.G., 2007, “Notes on the Old Assyrian Sargon Legend”, Iraq 69, 21–27. Zgoll, A., 2006, “Köningslauf und Götterrat: Struktur und Deutung des babylonischen Neujahrsfestes”, in E. Blum and R. Lux (eds), Festtraditionen in Israel und im Alten Orient, (Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus), 11–80.

Chapter 9

History and Historiography in the Early Parthian Diaries Johannes Haubold The Astronomical Diaries from Babylon are an astonishing feat of historical record-keeping. Over a period of more than half a millennium, their authors chronicled events in and around Mesopotamia seemingly unperturbed by the rise and fall of successive world empires. To the modern reader of these texts, the overwhelming impression is one of timeless stability: there is little sense that individual authors responded to specific historical circumstances; or that they developed historical interests, or a historiographical style, of their own. However, there were periods in the long history of the Diaries when political developments did leave an imprint on the authors’ approach. This chapter puts the spotlight on one such period: the twenty years or so from the Parthian conquest of Mesopotamia in the late 140s bce to the consolidation of Parthian rule in the 120s. I ask how the authors of the early Parthian Diaries, as I shall call them, responded to this time of crisis and upheaval. How did they select, arrange, and shape historical data into historical narrative? What did they think mattered in human affairs, given their predominant interest in the movements of celestial bodies? These are some of the questions that I wish to address in this chapter. 1

Babylon on the Brink

Life was uncertain in late second-century Babylonia. After the death of Antiochus iv in 164 bce, strife within the royal family increasingly affected what until then had been one of the Seleucid empire’s most stable provinces.1 External powers took advantage of the situation. A newly buoyant Elam/Elymais 1 Boiy (2004: 137–166) discusses the history of Babylon under the Seleucids. On pp. 162–166 he considers the turbulent aftermath of Antiochus iv’s reign. For Babylonia under the Seleucids see also Kuhrt and Sherwin-White (1993: 149–160), Clancier (2007) and (2011), Clancier and Monerie (2014). Pirngruber (2017) charts the (overall relatively benign) development of the Babylonian economy under Seleucid rule.

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invaded in 145 bce. The Parthians arrived in 141 bce.2 For modern historians, the Parthian takeover marks the beginning of a new era, but it is unclear how much of a caesura it was felt to be among contemporary observers. The Seleucids made repeated attempts to regain control,3 and Elamite invasions continued.4 Matters were further complicated by the rise of the kingdom of Characene or Mesene to the south of Babylon, which meant the city became caught up in a four-way struggle for power in the region.5 This situation must have felt particularly threatening in Babylon, where diplomacy on the margins of empire was not part of the inherited cultural repertoire. Babylonian intellectuals had long been used to living at the heart of a vast imperial structure and their Macedonian masters had broadly confirmed this view: Alexander held court in Babylon during the last months of his life, and Seleucus I used the city as his original power base. With the foundation of Seleucia on the Tigris the region was given a new āl šarrūti, “city of kingship”, but as Seleucia’s close neighbour and indigenous metropolis Babylon was still the spiritual home of kingship in Asia, and one of the empire’s central hubs.6 All this changed after the rise of Elymais/Elam in the East, the emergence of Characene/Mesene in the South, and the Parthian takeover in the north. Now Babylon became an outpost on the edge of empire, where trouble was constant and the imperial centre seemed a long way away. This chapter argues that the Astronomical Diaries responded to that geo-political shift. As a result of external attack and inner turmoil, a cultural and political unease descended on the priestly circles of Babylon that I would argue informs the way they ­recorded history. In fact, change had been afoot for some time before the Parthians arrived in Babylon. Reinhard Pirngruber has observed that the ratio of historical to non-historical text included in the Diaries increased after the death of Antiochus iv, i.e. roughly at the start of adart volume iii.7 Christopher Tuplin reminds us that we must treat any attempt to quantify this phenomenon with caution, given the fragmentary state of the evidence.8 But he agrees that grosso modo Pirngruber is right: between the middle Seleucid period of adart volume ii and the late Seleucid and Parthian periods of volume iii the historical 2 3 4 5 6

Boiy (2004: 166–192); for the Parthian period in Mesopotamia see also Grajetzki (2011). Boiy (2004: 171–174). Boiy (2004: 167–168). On Characene/Mesene see Schuol (2000), with sources and further literature. The classical sources paint a bleak picture of Babylon after the foundation of Seleucia; see Strabo 16.1.5; Pausanias 1.16.3; Pliny, NH 6.122. Boiy (2004: 135–136) shows that this is inaccurate: the city did not suffer a catastrophic decline. 7 Pirngruber (2013). 8 Tuplin, this volume pp. 82–83.

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sections did indeed expand. How do we interpret this shift? Pirngruber suggests that it has something to do with the demise of the Chronicle as a literary form: according to him, history migrated into the Diaries after it had lost its old home.9 There is much to be said for this view, and it would certainly be interesting to consider some of its implications for the development of the Babylonian Chronicles and the Astronomical Diaries as twin genres of Mesopotamian historiography.10 Here I am more interested in the question of what changed within the Diaries themselves. For it turns out that the late diarists did not just write more about history but also had different things to say about it. Some further background is in order here, before we go into detail. The middle Seleucid Diaries of adart ii focus heavily on religious matters within Babylon and the king’s affairs outside it. Sometimes these two themes intersect, for example when Antiochus iii visits Babylon to celebrate the akītu (adart ii No. -204C); but by and large the Diaries adhere to the division of labour that Berossus outlines in his Babyloniaca: according to him, the king and his officers go abroad to defend and enrich the empire, while the Chaldean priests keep watch over the empire back home in Babylon.11 In the late Seleucid Diaries, this arrangement comes under pressure. Cult activity in Babylon is now less prominent, and fighting around and even inside Babylonia takes up much of the historical sections. The two points are of course related: a city in political turmoil will struggle to carry out religious cult effectively. The king too recedes into the background — or rather, he is felt to become more distant. In the early and middle Seleucid Diaries the king goes off to fight the battles of the empire which are also, by definition, the battles of Babylon. In the late Seleucid and early Parthian Diaries, he still goes on campaign abroad, but now much of the fighting that matters takes place on the ground in Mesopotamia. This creates a sense of dislocation which becomes increasingly corrosive as events unfold: if the king is not where he is needed, then all is not well in the world of the Babylonian priesthood. The authors of the Astronomical Diaries never complain explicitly about the absence of the king, but they do find ways of expressing their concern. The first warning shots come in the late Seleucid Diaries of adart iii, which anticipate many of the developments that we later see in the Parthian Diaries. Antiochus iv dies in adart iii No. -163. In adart iii No. -162 we hear for the

9 10 11

Pirngruber (2013: 205). For further discussion of this topic see Waerzeggers (2012), Tuplin, this volume, pp. 107–111. Haubold (2013: 162).

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first time in over half a century of significant fighting within Babylonia.12 adart iii No. -161 reports corpses lying in the street (A1 A2 ‘rev.’ 12’). There is more fighting in adart iii Nos. -156 and -155. adart iii No. -149 reports the war between Alexander Balas and Demetrius I Soter. Although this time the fighting happens far away,13 the episode is nonetheless unsettling. The Diaries describe it in some detail (adart iii No. -149A rev. 3’–13’):14 3’  [ITU BI al-te]-me um-ma ina uruan-ti-ki-’a-a [URU ⸣ LUGAL-ú-ti(?) …] 4’  [šá ana UGU í]dmar-rat-tu4 SU-KÚ dan-nu lúERÍNmeš L[UGAL …] 5’  […]meš u lúUNmeš šá TA ˹URU ?˺meš šá ina ERÍN ? LUGAL šá Id[e-metri(?) …] 6’  [… Ia-]lek-sa-an-dar LUGAL ana uruse-lu-ke-’a-a šá ana muḫ-ḫi KUR P[ i?…] 7’  […] ˹a˺-di GÚ ? ídmar-rat-tu4 BALmeš ITU BI a[l-te-me um-ma] 8’  […] Ide-meṭ-ri LUGAL KI 25 AM-SImeš u lúERÍN […] 9’  […] ˹x lu u’˺ TA uruan-ti-ki-’a-a Èmeš-ma […] 10’ […] BAD 5.BAD 5meš-šú-nu GARmeš U4-23 lúERÍNmeš […] 11’ […] ˹AM-SI˺meš BAD 5.BAD 5 a-ḫa-meš GARmeš IT[U BI…] 12’ […] x x ˹lú˺ERÍNmeš MAḪmeš šá Ide-me[ṭ-ri…] 13’ […uruse-l]u-ke-’a-a URU LUGAL […] 3’  [That month I he]ard as follows: In the city of Antioch [the royal city(?)] 4’  […, which is on the] sea, (there was) a grave famine. The troops of the k[ing,] 5’  […the…]s and the people who (are) from the cities15 belonging to(?) the royal troops of D[emetrius (?)….] 12 13 14 15

Significant disturbances are last recorded in the 230s and 220s bce; see the overview in Pirngruber (2017: 203–204). For the long period of peace in Babylonia during the reign of Antiochus iii, see Boiy (2004: 155). By far the most likely setting is Syria, pace Del Monte (1997: 92–94) who wishes to relocate the decisive battle to Elymais/Elam. Sachs and Hunger’s text and translation are modified in light of van der Spek (1997/8: 168). Mitsuma (2015: 57, 71) suggests that the passage comes from a preliminary Diary with added historical section. Van der Spek (2015) argues that the diarists use logographic URUmeš for the Aramaic loanword madinatu, with the meaning “satrapy, province, district, country”. However, formulations such as Bar-sìpki u URUmeš šá-nu-tú at adart iii No. -124A rev. 9’ (“Borsippa and the other cities”) suggest that “cities” can also be an appropriate translation in the Diaries. Further work is required to establish when precisely URUmeš means madinatu, “satrapy”, etc. and when it means ālānu, “cities”. For now, it seemed prudent to retain Sachs and Hunger’s translation “cities”.

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6’ […A]lexander, the king, to Seleucia which is on mount P[ieria(?)] 7’ and situated on the sea coast(?), crossed over. That month, I he[ard as follows: …] 8’ […] king Demetrius with 25 elephants and the troops […] 9’ […] … they went out from Antioch and […] 10’ […] they brought about their defeat. On the 23rd, the troops [of…] 11’ […and ] the elephants defeated each other. [That] mo[nth, …] 12’ […] … numerous troops of Deme[trius entered (?)….] 13’ […the city of Sel]eucia, the royal city […] What we have here is a war between two men both of whom the diarist calls “king”. There had often been two kings in the Seleucid empire,16 but this time the two kings are not co-regents, and they fight not an external enemy but each other. Elementary categories are getting confused here: the friends of the empire and its enemies, victory and defeat. Something of the confusion shines through in the use of elephants in a civil war, which I take to be a matter of historiographical focus, not simply historical fact. Strictly speaking, one did not have to mention elephants at all. That the diarist does so twice within four lines seems significant in view of the fact that elephants were the ultimate emblem of Seleucid power and authority.17 The authors of the Diaries were well aware of the symbolic charge borne by the Seleucid elephant, as we can tell from adart ii No. -273B, which describes the transferral of war elephants from Bactria via Babylon and Seleucia to Syria in order to support the fight against “the troops of Egypt”.18 To hear of elephants being transported across the empire in order to tackle an external enemy played to Babylonian expectations of Seleucid efficiency and military power. To have them employed in a struggle between two Seleucid kings can only have alarmed Babylonian observers. Nor is this the only aspect of the diarist’s narrative that seems perplexing. Note the formulation dabdâ aḫāmeš iškunū, literally, “they defeated each other”. Without wishing to over-interpret what is after all a very fragmentary text, we can certainly say that this is an unusual formulation, and one that suggests the paradox of a war which, from a Babylonian perspective, can have no real winner.19 16 17 18 19

As acknowledged in Babylonian dating formulae; see Boiy (2004), pp. 138–139 (Seleucus i and Antiochus i) and 140 and 144 (Antiochus i and Seleucus). Kosmin (2014: 1–3). Further discussion in Visscher, this volume, pp. 257–259. We would expect either dabdâ iškun(ū), ‘he/they defeated’ or aḫāmeš imḫaṣū, ‘they fought with each other’. It is possible in principle that the composite formulation dabdâ aḫāmeš iškunū arose as the result of a mere slip on the part of the scribe, but given the context of the passage this seems less likely.

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Normality is restored in adart iii No. -144, where we hear that King Demetrius ii Nicator (the son of Demetrius i) conquered Egypt (obv. 35’–36’): 35’ ITU B[I … Ide]-˹meṭ˺-ri LUGAL ina URUmeš šá KUR me-luḫ-ḫa 36’ [šal-ṭa]-niš GIN.GIN-ak 35’ That month […] king Demetrius marched around the cities of Egypt 36’ victoriously. The Ptolemies were the Seleucids’ arch-rivals on the international stage, and marching victoriously around their cities was a cliché of successful Seleucid kingship. It is doubtful whether Demetrius ii ever conquered Egypt in quite the way envisaged here,20 but as so often in such cases, the historiographical template mattered more than the historical facts. And the template, in this case, seems to have been Antiochus iv’s Egyptian campaign as described in adart iii No. -168A rev. 14–15:21 A14 ITU BI al-te-e um-[ma] A15 Ian LUGAL ina URUmeš šá KUR me-luḫ-ḫa šal-ṭa-niš GIN.GIN-a[k] A14 That month I heard as follows: A 15 King Antiochus marched victoriously around the cities of Egypt. Demetrius ii, the diarist gives us to understand, acted much like the glamorous Antiochus iv. Indeed, behind the precedent of Antiochus iv, which in the mid-140s bce was recent history, there lurks the much deeper cultural memory of Nebuchadnezzar’s wars in the west, which earlier Babylonian historians had described in similar terms: 12 ina mu.sag Idnà.nì.du-ú-ṣu-ur ana kurḫat-tú ana egir-šú gur-ma en itizíz ina kurḫat-ti 13 šal-ṭa-niš ginme 12 In the year of his accession Nebuchadnezzar returned to Syria. Until the month of Šabātu he 13 marched victoriously around Syria.22 20 21 22

Van der Spek (1997/8: 170). As Boiy (2004: 165–166, n. 144) points out; see also van der Spek (2015: 110). Chronicle 24 rev. 12–13 (Glassner): Note the familiar form of words (ina GN šalṭāniš ittallak). Although the historical Nebuchadnezzar never conquered Egypt, and early sources never claimed that he did, later Babylonians like Berossus took a different view: bnj 680 F 8.

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There can be no doubt that the diarists saw, and actively placed, Demetrius’ supposed conquest of Egypt in a tradition of successful Babylonian kingship; the very language they use suggests as much. And yet, the dream of Babylonian renewal swiftly unravels. Demetrius’ war in Egypt, it turns out, is in fact a distraction — for while the Seleucid king is away conquering foreign lands the Elamite king Kammaškiri conquers Babylonia. The relevant events are reported on the reverse of adart iii No. -144, the very same tablet that celebrated Demetrius’ successful Egyptian campaign. And they are reported in strikingly similar language (rev. 20–21): 20 [ITU BI?] 21 Ika-am-ma-áš-ki-i-ri LUGAL KUR NIM-MAk[i] ina URUmeš u ÍDmeš šá KUR URIki šal-ṭa-niš GIN.GIN-ak 20 [That month?] 21 King Kammaškiri of Elam marched victoriously around the cities and rivers of Babylonia. Note how closely this entry echoes the description of the Seleucid king’s own prowess.23 The echo is profoundly disconcerting: the Elamite king should not be “marching victoriously” through Babylonia, least of all at a time when the Seleucid king marches victoriously through Egypt. In normal circumstances, defending Babylon and expanding the empire ought not to be incompatible tasks — in fact, Berossus had portrayed them as two sides of the same coin.24 Yet, all of a sudden this model of Babylonian kingship no longer seems viable and the king’s campaigns in the west, so far from strengthening and enriching the city, actually threaten to weaken and expose it. That thought must have been worrying to the scribal elites of Babylon who, we can assume, were deeply committed to the precedent set by Nebuchadnezzar and earlier Seleucid kings.25

23

By adding “rivers” to the standard formula “PN marched victoriously around (the cities of) GN” the diarist hints that the Elamites were perhaps destroying some of the irrigation works that sustained Babylonian wealth; see the Introduction to this volume p. 5. For a different interpretation see van der Spek (2015: 114–115), who takes ina URUmeš u ÍDmeš šá KUR URIki to mean “in the satrapy of Babylonia and in the river area of southern Mesopotamia”. 24 Berossus bnj 680 F 8. 25 For Nebuchadnezzar as a national hero in Hellenistic Babylon see Kuhrt (1987), Haubold (2013: 163–168).

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The Absent King

The transition from Seleucid to Parthian rule did little to steady fraying nerves. If anything, the Diaries suggest a growing sense of alarm and alienation. The first Parthian Diary sets the tone (adart iii No. -140A ‘rev. 3’–9’): 3’ […] DUmeš ina kuš˹GÍD.DA x˺ […K]ÁM ?šá ˹ši-i? MU˺-1-me-1, 11-KÁM SARmeš ˹x x GÙ˺-D[É?….] 4’ […] URUmeš šá KUR ma-da-a […]-ma … šá TA uruur-qa-na?-a-nu lúSIG ? ˹x˺ […] 5’ […] ˹SAG ?˺ ITU BI U4-22-KÁM kušGÍD.D[A … m]uḫ-ḫi lúpa-ḫat Éki u lúpu-li-ṭe-e MU-a-ti SAR … […] 6’ […] ina lúGAL-ú-qu-tu ina KUR URIki ˹x˺ […] ˹x˺ ina É IGI-DU 8-A GÙ-DÉ U4 BI al-te-me um-ma Iti-’u-ú-gi? […] 7’ […Ia]r-šá-ka-a LUGAL ana uruse-lu-ke-’a-[a…] ˹x˺ U4-24-KÁM Ian-ti’u-uk-su A šá Iar-’a-a-Bu-Za-na-a LUGAL […] 8’ K UR aš-šurki šá ina IGI-ma? Iar-šá-ka-a ˹LUGAL˺? […m]uḫ-ḫi 4 lúGAL ú-qu-tu šá KUR URIki pa-qid KU TUK šá GIM GIŠ-S[AR…] 9’ […uruse-lu-ke-’a]-a URU LUGAL-ú-tu KU 4-ub ITU BI U4-28-KÁM I[…]-ka-a ˹x˺ GAL-ú mun-nu-ú TA uruse-lu-ke-’a-a ana Eki KU 4-u[b…] 3’ […] went, were written on a parchment … […] which is? Year 171, … they were read? […] 4’ […] cities of Media […] … who from the city of Urqananu?, a famous … […] 5’ […] … That month, the 22nd day, a parchment written […] to the governor of Babylon and these? citizens (politai) … […] 6’ […] in? the position of general in Babylonia […] was read in the theatre. That day, I heard as follows: Ti’ugi? […] (i.e. Theoge[nes]) 7’ […] king Arsaces to Seleucia […] … the 24th day, Antiochus, son of king Ar’abuzana. … […] 8’ […] of Assyria who before king Arsaces […] was appointed […] above the four generals of Babylonia. A … which was like a ga[rden?…] 9’ […] entered [Seleu]cia, the royal city. That month, the 28th day, [… kā] was appointed great …, from Seleucia entered Babylon […] One point that stands out about this entry is the space it devotes to the sending, receiving and reading of royal letters. The text is broken, so that we cannot be sure what the letters said and whether their contents were cited verbatim. What we can say is that around the time of the Parthian takeover we start seeing a new trend toward recording letters from the imperial centre to the Greek

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citizens of Babylon. This cannot be down to a change in diplomatic practice alone — in fact, we do know of earlier letters.26 Nor is it a matter of supporting or enlivening the historical account in the manner of Greek historical texts — though such texts were probably known to the scholars of the Esagila.27 Rather, I would argue that the letters quoted in the Parthian Diaries serve to strengthen ties between the imperial centre and the city of Babylon, represented both by the old Babylonian elites and the Greek citizens who gather in the theatre.28 At a time when the king’s absence was a source of deep worry, his written word became a substitute for his redeeming presence. The king’s absence was, if anything, felt even more keenly in the early Parthian period than it had been in the turbulent final years of Seleucid rule. “The cities of Media” appear for the first time in the Diary quoted above as a shorthand for the location where one might find the Parthian king and his court (adart iii No. -140A ‘rev. 4’; cf. adart iii No. -137 ‘rev.’ 11’).29 It is a formulation which suggests both distance and a lack of specificity, in contrast with “Seleucia, the royal city” (adart iii No. -140A ‘rev. 9’), a typically Seleucid way of imagining the centre of royal power from a Babylonian perspective. Some scholars have stressed the sense of loss it implies: referring to Seleucia in this way reminds us that Babylon is no longer the imperial centre that it had once been.30 However, when compared to “the cities of Media”, Seleucia is a comforting place. One knew where it was, and what it was. Seleucia and Babylon were close neighbours, and the Seleucid Diaries never tire of tracking movements between them.31 Kingship was close by in those days. Travel between Babylon and Seleucia persisted under the Parthians and continued being recorded in the Diaries,32 but it no longer tied Babylon into the fabric of 26 E.g. adart iii No. -144 rev. 14 (letter from Demetrius ii). 27 They were certainly known to Berossus in the 3rd century bce: De Breucker (2011); Haubold (2013: ch. 3); Dillery (2015). 28 From the diarists’ perspective, it must have been significant that letters from the king were read out in the theatre, presumably in Greek; and that they were addressed to the community of (Greek) citizens rather than the assembly of Esagila (kiništu) and/or its chief officer (šatammu). It is possible that a copy was passed on to the temple administration, and that the diarists took any direct quotes they wished to include from there; but it is equally possible that they had only an oral report of what was said in the theatre. Either way, they would have been conscious of tracking the king’s communication with the city at one remove. 29 Retaining Sachs and Hunger’s translation “cities” for logographic URUmeš – though van der Spek’s case for the alternative URUmeš = madinat(u) = “satrapy, district, land” seems attractive in formulations of this kind; see van der Spek (2015) and above, n. 15. 30 E.g. van der Spek (2009: 106). 31 adart iii No. -140 is itself a good example (A ‘rev. 9’). 32 E.g. adart iii Nos. -137A rev. 17’; -137C rev. 16’; -137D rev. 28.

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the empire in quite the same way. Under the Parthians, Seleucia was no longer the āl šarrūti and after adart iii No. -140 the diarists never call it that again. In fact, Seleucia soon suffered its own defining moment of alienation. Later in 141 bce, the same Diary goes on to report, Arsaces and his troops set out from Arqania (adart iii No. -140C ‘rev. 34–44):33 34 I TU BI al-te-me um-ma Iár-šá-ka-a LUGAL u lúERÍNmeš-šú ina uruár-qa-ni-’a-a TUḪ-ár 35 [al]-te-me um-ma 6 lúNIM-MAki u lúERÍNmeš-šú ana tar-ṣa urua-pama-a šá ana muḫ-ḫi ídṣi-il-ḫu ana LÚ.NE TUḪ-á[r] 36 [ITU ?] BI lúUNmeš šá ina urua-pa-ma-a TUŠ-u’ ana É urukar-ku-di-i È-ú urua-pa-ma-a ina IZI ig-da-˹lu-u’˺ 37 [x x] Ian lúGAL ERÍNmeš šá ana muḫ-ḫi 4 lúGAL ERÍNmeš ú-qa šá ana ku-um Iár-šá-ka-a LUGAL TA uruse-l[u-ke-’a-a šá ana muḫ-ḫi] 38 [íd]IDIGNA a-na IGI šá lúNIM-MAkiana LÚ.NE È ina ídka-ba-ri TUḪ u lúERÍNmeš MEŠ-tú ˹x˺ [x x x x x] 39 [(ana) L]Ú.NE È-ú lúUNmeš šá ina uruse-lu-ke-’a-a u lúUNmeš šá ina Eki TUŠ-u’ ú-nu-tu ˹x˺ [x x x x x] 40  [x] IGI na šú? mu ú šá lúNIM-MAki i-na-ṣa-ru-ú al-te-me um-ma lúERÍNmeš šá ina É […] 41 [(x) lú]ERÍNmeš šá? lúNIM-MAki GAR-u’ ITU BI lúUNmeš lúAmeš-šú-nu NÍG.ŠU-šú-nu u DAMmeš-šú-[nu…] 42 [x l]úGALmeš šá LUGAL šá ina Eki KU 4meš u lúUNmeš i-ṣu-tú ana ŠÀ ti-amat ú-še-ri-d[u?…] 43 [x x] tu4 šá a-gur-ru šá KÁ-GAL dAMAR-UTU i-na-qa-ru-ú ù a-gur-r[u…] 44 [xx mu]ḫ?-˹ḫi˺ ídBURANUN TA mu-še-pi-šú šá kin ṣi x x x x […] 34 That month, I heard as follows: king Arsaces and his troops set off from Arqania. 35 I heard as follows: (on the) 6th, the Elamite and his troops set off for Apamea on the Sellas, to fight. 36 That [month?], the people who dwell in Apamea went out to BitKarkudî; they burnt Apamea. 37 […] An(tiochus) the general who is above the 4 generals, who was representing king Arsaces, went out from Sel[eucia which is on] 38 the Tigris towards the Elamite, to fight; from the River Kabari he set off, and the numerous troops … […] 33

Mitsuma (2015: 55, 71) suggests that the passage comes from a so-called ‘Short Diary’.

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39 went out for fighting. The people who were in Seleucia and the people who dwell in Babylon, […] the belongings […] 40 to guard (them) before the … of the Elamite. I heard as follows: the troops who were in Bit-[…] 41 set up […] of the troops of the Elamite. That month, the people […] their children, their possession, and their wives […] 42 the nobles of the king who had entered Babylon and the few people they led to the sea […] 43 […] of the brickwork of the Marduk Gate they tore down and the brickwork […] 44 on? the Euphrates from … […] The king in Arqania (~ classical Hyrcania in northern Iran?) is far away, in contrast with “the Elamite” and his troops, who in the very next sentence set off in the direction of the Babylonian city of Apamea, for fighting.34 Note the doubling of the introductory formula “I heard as follows” (alteme umma): the king’s departure turns out to be a false start. In fact, Arsaces drops out of the story, whereas the Elamite arrives, and initiates the fighting. The Parthian general Antiochus marches out of Seleucia to face the enemy, but things go badly in the fragmentary passage that follows, and Babylon suffers. What is worse, we learn that the representative of the king proceeds to make common cause with the Elamite, so that the citizens of Seleucia first curse Antiochus and then arrest him. When he makes an escape, they plunder his possessions, effectively starting a war of their own (adart iii No. -140C ‘rev. 29’–35’): 29’ I TU BI al-te-me 30’ [u]m-ma U4-4 lúpu-li-ṭa-an-nu šá ina uruse-lu-ke-’a-a šá ana muḫ-ḫi íd IDIGNA ár-rat ana muḫ-ḫi Ian-ti-’u-uk-su 31’ [l]úGAL ERÍNmeš šá ana muḫ-ḫi 4 lúGAL ERÍNmeš ú-qa GAR-u’ lìbbu-ú šá pi-i KI lúNIM-MAki iš-kun ana lúGAL ERÍNmeš 32’ [x]-nu-ú ú-˹še˺-zi-zu-ú ù lúERÍNmeš MAḪmeš KI-šú a-na pa-ni šá lúNIM-MAki ana DÙ-eš LÚ.NE ú-še-bi-lu-ú 33’ [(x) I]an-ti-’u-uk-su MU-a-tì ik-lu-nim-ma ina lúERÍNmeš i-ṣu-tú iḫliq-ma lúUNmeš KUR šá ina uruse-lu-˹ke-’a-a˺ 34’ šá ana muḫ-ḫi ídIDIGNA NÍG.ŠID-šú šá ina KUR ú-maš-šìr iḫ-tabtu-ú u lúERÍNmeš LUGAL šá KI-šú NÍG.ŠID šá ina ˹x˺ [x x] 35’ [i]ḫ-tab-tu-ú ITU BI lúNIM-MAki ana tar-ṣi É urukar-ku-di-i šá ana muḫ-ḫi ídIDIGNA ana LÚ.[NE È] 34

For Arqania ~ classical Hyrcania, see Olmstead (1937: 13), Tuplin, this volume, p. 89 n. 37.

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29’ That month I heard 30’ as follows: on the 4th day, the citizens who were in Seleucia which is on the Tigris set up a curse on Antiochus, 31’ the general who is above the four generals, because? he made common cause with the Elamite; they had provided? … for the general, 32’ and sent many troops with him to fight against the Elamite. 33’ They arrested this Antiochus, but he escaped with a few troops, and the people of the land who were in Seleucia 34’ on the Tigris plundered his possessions which he had left in the land, and the troops of the king who were with him plundered the possessions which were in […] 35’ That month the Elamite [went out …] towards Bīt-Karkudî which is on the Tigris for fight[ing …] The king’s failure to protect Babylonia from external attack precipitates a descent into treachery and civil war. The Elamite, as ever, stands ready to pounce on any sign of Babylonian weakness (above, line 35’) — but the malaise of Babylon can no longer be blamed on Elamite aggression alone.35 What we see here, rather, is the start of an inner process of dissolution that will soon gather momentum. The author of this Diary is not a Tacitus, but he describes the disintegration of his world in a manner worthy of his Latin colleague. 3

The Priesthood Enters the Fray

The process of disintegration further escalates in adart iii No. -132, which contains one of the most famous episodes in the Astronomical Diaries, that of the false prophet of Borsippa.36 Lucinda Dirven’s chapter in this volume 35

36

“The Elamite” is the diarists’ ultimate bête noire. Particularly telling is a passage in adart iii No. -137D rev. 3, which contrasts panic in Elam with happiness in Babylon: […] ḫat-tu4 ina KUR NIM-MAki ṭu-ub UZU u ŠE-GA ina KUR URIk[i…. […] panic in Elam, happiness and agreement in Babylonia […] Narratives about the downfall of Elam seem to have given expression to anti-Persian sentiment under the Achaemenids: see Nielsen (2015). Discussion in Nissinen (2002); van der Spek (2014), with edition; Dirven and Robson, this volume. The episode survives in two parallel accounts, adart iii Nos. -132B and C, of which the latter (adart iii No. -132C) appears to have been significantly less detailed. According to Mitsuma (2015: 55, 72), both versions are preserved in so-called ‘Short Diaries’. It is unclear how this situation arose, and which of the two versions (if any) was included in the Standard Diary series and hence considered final. Here I focus on the fuller account of adart iii No. -132B.

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s­tudies the episode in detail, and considers some of the questions it raises about prophecy and charismatic religion in the Hellenistic world. Here I am interested in its narrative shape, and in two questions. First, why does the diarist introduce extended dialogue into his otherwise dry third-person narrative? Secondly, how does he frame the episode and what explanation, if any, does he offer us for the sudden shift in tone? To start with the latter question, we learn that King Hyspaosines of Characene attacked and plundered the Tigris harbour just before the episode that interests us here (adart iii No. -132B rev. 18–20):37 18 ITI BI al-te um lúḫi-’-a-a-lu ERÍN-ni ma[s]-pa-a-si-˹né˺-[e] 19 lúKÚR LAGABxKÙ ? Ameš ša-nu-ú EN sa-lim šá lúKÚR NIM.MAki GIN-nim-ma ana muḫ-ḫi ka-a-ri gišM[Ámeš] 20 šá ina ÍD MAŠ.GÚ.GÀR ŠUB-tú-nim-ma ka-a-ri gišMÁmeš MU-a-tì EN NÍG.ŠUmeš-ši-na iḫ-tab-t[u] 18 That month, I heard as follows: the forces of Hyspaosines, 19 the enemy from the region of Mesene, a friend of the Elamite enemy, attacked the harbour of ships 20 in the Tigris and plundered this harbour of ships together with its possessions. Hyspaosines, the diarist reminds us, is in cahoots with “the Elamite enemy”, suggesting an alliance of hostile powers that converge on the region from several directions at once. Frightening as this scenario might seem from a Babylonian perspective, it triggers an even more threatening process of inner disintegration — for it is surely no coincidence that the troublesome prophet who arises soon after the sacking of the Tigris harbour is described as a “sailor” (adart iii No. -132B rev. 21–29):38 21 I TI BI al-te-e um-ma mpi-li-nu-us-su lúGAL ERÍN-ni KUR URIki šá ana muḫ-ḫi 4 lúGAL ERÍN-ni 22 šá ina ITI BAR a-na URUmeš šá kurma-da-a-a ana IGI Iba-a-ga-a-ašá-a lúŠEŠ LUGAL GIN-ma al-t[e-e] 23 um-ma TA lúGAL ERÍN-ni KUR URIki ba-tu-qa- ITI BI UD 24.KAM KUŠ SARmeš šá Iár-šá-k[a-a]

37 38

I follow van der Spek’s re-edition of this passage in van der Spek (2014: 28). I quote the text in the editions of van der Spek (2014: 28–29) for lines 21–24 and Robson (this volume, pp. 180–185) for lines 25–29.

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24 ana muḫ-ḫi lúpa-ḫat Eki u lúpu-li-te-e šá ina Eki ÍL-nu šá-su-ú um-ma mte-’-ú-di-si-i-s[u] 25 ana muḫ-ḫi 4 lúGAL ERÍNmeš šá KUR URIki un-de-en-nu ITI BI 1-en lúDUMU MÁ.LAḪ4 it-taṣ-˹bi˺-[it-ma (…)]39 26 ṭe-en-sú iš-ni-ma 1-en BÁRA bi-rit É d30 É.GIŠ.NU 11.GAL u KÁ.GAL ˹še-e’-a-šu a?-re?-i’?˺ [dAMAR]-˹UTU˺ 27 ŠUB-ú NIDBA ana muḫ-ḫi GAR-ma UMUŠ DU10.GA ana lúUN!meš iqbi um-ma dEN ana Eki KU4-ub lú[UNmeš] 28 lúNITAmeš u MUNUSmeš DU-nim-ma NIDBA ana muḫ-ḫi BÁRA šu10a-tì GARmeš ana tar-ṣa ˹BÁRA˺ šu10-a-tì 29 GU7-ú NAG-ú i-ḫa-am-mu-ú i-ru-uš-šu-ú … 21  That month, I heard as follows: Philinus, the general of Babylonia who is above the four generals, 22 who in the month Nisan had gone to the cities of Media to see Bagayaša, the brother of the king, was told 23 as follows: you are no longer general of Babylonia. That month, on the 24th, a parchment letter arrived from Arsaces 24 to the governor of Babylon and the citizens (politai) who are in Babylon. It was read out as follows: 25 I have appointed Theodosius above the four generals of Babylonia. That month, a certain sailor was seized [(…)]40 26 He lost his mind and erected a dais between Ekišnugal, the temple of Sîn, and the Gate of Marduk (called) “His Lord Shepherds”. 27 He put an offering on it and made an announcement of good news to the people, as follows: “Bēl has entered Babylon”. [The people,] 28 men and women, came and placed offerings on this dais. Before this dais, 29  they ate and drank, they sang and became boisterous… The absence of the king, the diarist seems to imply, makes possible not just external attack but also internal upheaval: the sacking of the Tigris harbour unleashes forces that strike at the very heart of Babylonian religion. The king, we note, attempts to shore up his defences from afar. A letter of his is received in Babylon and duly read out: Theodosius is to be the new chief of the four generals of Babylonia (adart iii No. -132B rev. 23–25). The word of the king brings order to the chaos, or so we hope. In fact, the king’s written word is drowned out by the clamour of a mad sailor and those who gather around him.

39 40

Van der Spek tentatively suggests the reading it-taš-˹kin˺ instead of it-taṣ-˹bi˺-[it-ma]. The reading of the verb is quite uncertain.

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This is how the episode continues (adart iii No. -132B rev. 31–36, Lower edge, Left edge):41 31 UMUŠ ana lúUNmeš šú-nu-tú iq-bi um- dna-na-a-a ana BAR-SÌPki ana É.ZI-DA i-te-ru-ub ḫa-an-ṭiš lúDUMU ˹MÁ*.LAḪ4*˺ šu10-[a-tì] 32 u lúUNmeš šá KI-šú ana BAR-SÌPki DUmeš-nim-ma lúDUMUmeš ˹BAR˺[SÌP]ki ana IGI-šú-nu iḫ-ta-mu-ú iḫ-ta-du-ú gišIGmeš KÁ.GAL[meš] 33 ana IGI-šú-nu BAD-ú lúDUMU MÁ*.LAḪ4!*u lúUNmeš ˹šá?* KI?*-šú gab-bi-šu? NIGIN?meš ana É.ZI-DA KU4-ú lúBAR-SÌPki.meš ana lúDUMU˺ [MÁ.LAH₄!] 34 i-pu-ul-lu-ú um-ma d˹na˺-[na?-a?-a?] …meš ana ku?-lu?-lu-ú šá-nam?ma? ana DA x [(…)] 35 ku-lu?-lu-ú šu10-a-tì ana x […] ˹ŠÁ˺ x x ˹MEŠ˺ … 36 [NIDBA?] ana dna-na-a-[a … ana IGI] dna-na-a-a ina É.ZI-DA uš-ken-nu-ú 31 He announced news to these people as follows: “Nanaya has entered Borsippa (and) Ezida!” Quickly that sailor 32 and the people who were with him went to Borsippa, and the inhabitants of Borsippa sang and rejoiced before them. They opened 33 the doors and the city gates before them. The sailor and the people, all of them, gathered and entered Ezida. The Borsippans answered the sailor 34 as follows: “Nanaya … for the second crown at the side of […] 35 that crown to … […]… 36 [food-offerings] to Nanaya […]. They prostrated themselves [in front of] Nanaya in Ezida. Lower edge 2 […] ˹MEŠ?˺ x xx šu10-a-tì … […] 3 […]-x-nu x ina gišGIGIR GARmeš lúDUMU MÁ*.LAḪ4* šu10-a-tì … […] 4 […] ina Eki BAR-SÌPki u lúUNmeš … RI … gab?-bi? x xx BAR˺-SÌP ?˹ki?˺ […] 5 [in]-˹nam˺-mir u ri-qù?-tú ina SILAmeš u bi-ritmeš i-šem-mu-ú 2 […] … that … […] 3 […] they put in a chariot; that sailor … […] 4 […] in Babylon (and) Borsippa, and the people … all … Borsippa […] 5 he appeared and they heard empty words in the streets and alleys. Left edge 41

I quote Robson’s re-edition for this volume. The translation is my own, but it is heavily indebted to those of van der Spek (2014), and, especially, Robson (this volume).

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1 [um-ma lúDUMU] ˹šip?-[r]i?˺ šá dna-na-a-a ana-˹ku˺-[ma] ana ˹muḫ˺ḫi DINGIR KALA ma-ḫi-ṣu DINGIRmeš-ku-nu šap-ra-ku lúki-niš-˹tu4 É˺ DINGIRmeš šu10-a-tì ana lúDUMU ˹MÁ*˺.[LAḪ4] 2 [šu10-a-tì u UNmeš KI-šú] ˹i˺-pu-ul-lu-ú iḫ-sa-a ana ˹É˺[meš]-kunu GURmeš ana URUmeš-ku-nu URU ana sar-tú u šil-lat là SUM-’u DINGIRmeš GIM URU šil-lat la tu-še-ṣa-a 3 [lúDUMU MÁ.LAḪ4 šu10-a]-˹tì˺ i-pu-ul-šú-nu-tú um-ma lúDUMU [šip]ri šá dna-na-a-a ana-ku-ma URU ana sar-tú u šil-lat ul a-nam-din kima ŠU.MIN DINGIR dan-na ma-ḫi-ṣu ana É.ZI-DA ur-˹rad?˺ 4 [lúki-niš]-tu4 É DINGIRmeš šu10-a-tì ana lúUNmeš šá ˹KI˺ [lúDUMU MÁ]. LAḪ4 !šu₁₀-a-tì i-pu-lu-ú šá KA lúšá-bi-ba-an-nu la ta-še-em-ma-a là x-x-a ZI-tì-ku-nu 5 [uṣ]-˹ra˺-a ra-ma-ni-ku-nu x […] … lúUNmeš šá-nu-tú qa-bé-e-šú-nu NU im-ḫur-ú-ma⸣ iq-bu-ú 1 [saying as follows]: “I am the messenger of Nanaya! I have been sent concerning the strong god, the hunter of your gods.” The assembly of that temple 2 answered [that sailor and the people with him]: “Go back to your houses! Return to your cities! Do not give the city over to falsehood and blasphemy. Do not bring out the gods like a blasphemous city!”42 3 That [sailor] answered them as follows: “I am the messenger of Nanaya, I shall not give over the city to falsehood and blasphemy. Just like the hands of the strong god, the hunter, I shall go down to Ezida”.43 4 [The men] of that assembly answered the people who were with this sailor: “Do not listen to the speech of the outsider! Do not … your lives! 5 Protect yourselves!” … […] … Other people did not accept their speech and said: “[…]” The text of adart iii No. -132B is fragmentary in crucial places and difficult to understand in its particulars. However, the overall structure of the episode, its narrative tone and texture, are still clearly recognizable. What stands out, even on a cursory reading, is the level of dramatic elaboration that it entails. So startling is the shift in tone from previous Diary entries that we might feel tempted to think of classical historiography, with its speeches and dramatic dialogues. However, the point here is not to enliven or substantiate the diarist’s account as Polybius, for example, might have done at roughly the same time. Rather, the discussions triggered by the mad sailor become an index of how 42 43

For this reading and translation see Robson, this volume, p. 184. Very uncertain; for discussion see van der Spek (2014: 13); my translation follows Robson, this volume, pp. 183–184.

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pressing Babylon’s problems have become: the king’s written word is no longer sufficient to keep order on the ground in Babylonia. And so those must step in who are still present, and can still speak. In adart iii No. -132 that task falls to the priests of Borsippa, the peers of our diarist and men whom he is likely to have known in person. At stake is not just religious tradition (in itself a serious issue) but the very future of Babylon and her temples. Their well-being was traditionally guaranteed by the king. Now that the king has gone missing, the priests must themselves step into the breach. 4

A New Dawn?

In the early Parthian Diaries, the failure of the king to protect Babylon from external attack becomes a cancer that eats away at the city’s vital organs. As we see in the dramatic account of adart iii No. -132, “keeping watch in Babylon”, for these scholars, is no longer a matter simply of recording significant historical data but rather of arranging events into a narrative that implies a specific historical analysis, which is grounded in Babylonian thought about kingship and the relationship between royal action and priestly action, politics and religion. I conclude with a quick look at adart iii No. AD -124A ‘obv.’ 5’–9’: 5’ […] ˹x˺ ITU BI al-te-e um-ma Iti-ir-x x […] 6’ […ku]šSARmeš šá LUGAL ina DA lúpu-li-te-e šá ina Eki šá-˹su˺-[ú …] 7’ […kušSAR]meš šá LUGAL ina a-šar MU-a-tì šá-su-ú šá mun-nu-ú šá 1-en T[A …] 8’ […] ˹x˺ I-ZImeš ŠUB.ŠUB-u’ ITU BI lúar-ba-a-a šá AN-TA IM ZImešnim-ma SA[R…] 9’ […] bar-sìpki u URUmeš šá-nu-tú KUD-at lúUNmeš šá i-tat URU u? A-ŠÀmeš šá-nu-tú Èmeš NÍG-BA […] 5’ […] … That month, I heard as follows: Tir… […] 6’ […] a message from the king was read to the citizens (politai) who are in Babylon […] 7’ […] a message from the king was read in this place concerning the appointment of a certain (man) from […] 8’ […] … walls collapsed. That month, the Arab from “above the wind?”44 attacked and plund[ered?…]

44

For this expression, which probably means “upstream”, cf. Chronicle 26 rev. iii 11’ ­(Glassner), with van der Spek’s note in http://www.livius.org/cg-cm/chronicles/abc7/abc7_nabonidus5.html#iii.11.

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9’ […traffic] was cut off [to] Borsippa and the other cities. The people who went out to? the surroundings of the city and the other fields [gave] presents […] By the mid-120s bce Arab marauders terrorise the Babylonian countryside, to the point of cutting off communication with “Borsippa and the other cities”. The words are carefully chosen here. Contact with Borsippa was vital to Babylonian religion,45 so it is especially shocking that those Babylonians who still venture outside their city “give presents” (qīštu) to the enemy. If this is bad, then matters soon get worse: later in the same Diary the Arabs are said to have breached the walls of Babylon (adart iii No. -124A ‘rev.’ 5’). According to a Hellenistic text known as the Akītu Programme the king solemnly declared before Marduk that he had protected the city’s walls.46 Paul Kosmin points out that Seleucid kings did not participate in the akītu on a regular basis and therefore would not have had occasion to make such a commitment very often.47 It is even possible that the Akītu Programme was little more than an elaborate Babylonian fantasy. Yet, even if it was just a fantasy, it captures the importance that Babylonians attached to their city walls. To breach them was to become the ultimate enemy of Babylon. This is what the Arabs do, and yet, the Babylonians still give them presents “as before” (kīma maḫrû at adart iii No. -124A ‘rev.’ 7’). This little aside, “as before”, was not strictly necessary, of course. It adds no new facts. What it does do is highlight the social and moral decline of Babylon in the face of insurmountable odds.48 As ever, the underlying problem is that the king is not there to defend the city. He does finally intervene later in the same Diary, where we learn that he went to war with Pittit, “the Elamite enemy”, and defeated him. After what the diarists have told us about Elamite aggression since the mid-140s, this must seem like a watershed event. And indeed, the diarists give it a suitably elaborate narrative form, as two letters bring the happy news, and are cited at length:49 45 46 47 48

49

For example, the statue of Nabû, the city god of Borsippa, came to ‘visit’ Babylon at the New Year Festival; see Zgoll (2006): 25–28 and 67. Linssen (2004: 223, ll. 423–428). Kosmin (2018): 192. For similar asides see adart iii Nos. -124A ‘obv.’ 37’ (giving presents as before), -124B ‘obv.’ 21’ (“the Arabs plundered as before”, “panic of the Arabs as before was much in the land”), -111B ‘rev.’ 11’ (“an attack of the Arabs as before”), -108B ‘rev. 20’ (“plundering by the Arabs as before”); also noteworthy is adart iii No. -118AB obv. A22 where we hear that “the rivers and fields … were without Arabs”. By now the absence of Arab marauders has itself become worthy of note. As far as I know, this is the only occasion on which the Diaries cite two different letters referring to the same event.

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one from the former enemy Hyspaosines, who is now an ally; and one from the Parthian king Arsaces himself (adart iii No. -124B ‘rev.’ 12’–19’):50 12’ I TU BI U4-2-KÁM ˹x˺[x ku]šSARmeš šá Ias-pa-si-né-e LUGAL Ameš šá-nu-ú šá ana muḫ-ḫi lúGAL ERÍN-ni KUR URIki iš-ṭur iṭ-ṭaḫ-ḫi 13’ […pu-li]-te-e šá ina Eki šá-su-ú um-ma ina ITU BI U4-15?-KÁM Iar-šá-kam LUG[AL] u Ipi-i[t-ti-i]t lúKUR NIM-MAki ṣal-tu4 KI a-ḫa-meš DÙ-u’ LUGAL BAD 5.BAD 5 lúERÍN-ni KUR NIM-MAki ina gišTUKUL GAR-˹an˺ Ipi-it-ti-it 14’ […] iṣ-bat ITU BI U4-7-KÁM ina Eki MÍ.ŠAḪ Ù-TU-ma iz-bu GIM x x [x x] ˹x UR-GI 7˺ šá-kin ITU BI U4-15-KÁM gišGU-ZA LUGAL šá GIM GIŠ.ḪUR lúmu-˹ṣir?˺ šá iṣ-ṣi eš-š[i u K]Ù.BABBAR it-ti ti 15’ […] šá MU-šu i-’a-ma-na-a-a tu-ru-nu-us šá pa-na-ma⸣ Ias-pa-si-né-e [LUGA]L TA É-GAL LUGAL šá ina Eki TI-ú šul-lu-man-nu ana dEN id-din-nu lúpa-ḫat Eki u lúpu-li-te-e šá ina Eki 16’ […]meš-nim-ma ˹x x x x x x˺ gišIGmeš É-U4-1-KÁM BADmeš-nim-ma ˹x x˺ […] ˹x˺ ḫu su e-pu-šú NU KU 4meš gišGU-ZA LUGAL MU-a-tì šul-lu-man-nu šá dEN TA É-U4-1-KÁM È-ú? at-ta-aḫ-šú-nu TI-ú? 17’ […] lúKIN-GI 4-A LUGAL šá kušSARmeš na-šu-ú ana Eki KU 4-ub U4 BI  š u SARmeš ina É IGI-DUḪ-A šá-su-ú um-ma ṣal-tu4 18’ [x x (x) I]pi-it-ti-it lúKUR NIM-MAki DÙ-ma 15 lim ERÍN-ni MÈ ina ŠÀ ERÍN-ni-šú ina gišTU[KUL x x]-qit?ma ḫa x ru-ú ina lib-bi ERÍNni-iá NU GAR-an KUR NIM-MAki pa-aṭ gim-ri-šú ina gišTUKUL SÌG-aṣ Ipi-it-ti-it 19’ […]˹x x x˺ aṣ-bat 12’ That month, on the 2nd, … a message of Hyspaosines, king of Mesene? was brought which he had written to the general of Babylonia 13’ […] was read [to the cit]izens (politai) who are in Babylon, as follows: In this month, on the 15th?, king Arsaces and Pittit, the Elamite enemy, fought with each other. The king defeated the troops of Elam in battle. Pittit 14’ […] he seized. That month, on the 7th day, a sow gave birth in Babylon, and the newborn was like … […] had … of a dog. That month, on the 15th, the royal throne which has a design like that of … (text unclear) and is made of n[ew]? wood and silver, with?… 15’ [was made,] whose Greek name is thronos, which in the past [kin]g Hyspaosines had taken from the royal palace in Babylon and had 50

The text of adart iii, p. 278, is modified in light of van der Spek (2000).

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given as a gift of honour to Bēl, the governor of Babylon and the citizens (politai) who are in Babylon 16’ [(verb)]…, the doors of the Temple of the First Day they opened and … […] … they made (but) they did not enter. That royal throne, a gift of honour to Bēl, they brought out from the Temple of the First Day and took it away. 17’ […] a messenger of the king who carried a message entered Babylon. That day, the message of the king which was written to the governor of Babylon and the citizens (politai) who were in Babylon, was read in the theatre, as follows: I did battle 18’ […(with)] Pittit, the Elamite enemy. I [overth]rew in battle fifteen thousand battle troops among his army; among my own troops no … took place. Elam in its entirety I smote with weapons. Pittit 19’ […] … I seized. Two letters, from two different kings, suggest that Babylon’s woes may finally be over. The first, from the former enemy Hyspaosines, confirms the subjugation of Elam and indirectly also that of Characene/Mesene: the Diaries have been building towards this climax with the previous entry, where the king captured the son of Hyspaosines as part of his victorious expedition to Elam (adart iii No. -124B ‘rev.’ 20’). Now, Hyspaosines who had formerly posed such a threat to stability in the region, becomes himself the messenger of victory over Elam. On a superficial reading, that is very welcome news indeed, but as so often in the Parthian Diaries, things are not as simple as they seem. Hyspaosines’ letter is followed by a sow giving birth in Babylon to a piglet that was in some way shaped like a dog. As Reinhard Pirngruber points out, omens of this type cluster in the early Parthian Diaries, after an intermission of some 200 years — a sign perhaps of the feverish atmosphere in the city and the diarists’ increasingly desperate attempts to comprehend the processes of political, social and moral disintegration that unfolded around them.51 The details of this particular omen are lost, but enough of it survives to suggest that it did not portend a happy future. As Nicla de Zorzi has shown, dogs in Babylonian birth omens often indicate there will be trouble within the community,52 and this fits well with how the diarist continues his narrative. As if prompted by Hyspaosines’ letter, he goes on to mention a throne that the Characenian 51 52

Pirngruber (2013: 202); as Pirngruber notes, the Diaries report at least one such event per annum during the years 125–122 bce. De Zorzi (2011b: 62); cf. de Zorzi (2011a: 647, no. 71): “If a sow gives birth to a dog there will be strife in the land”.

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king had earlier given to Bēl as a gift of honour, presumably during his short stint as king of Babylon in 127 bce.53 That throne is now taken away by the governor and politai of Babylon (attaḫšunu ilqû). The circumstances are unclear: perhaps the diarist does not know, or perhaps he chooses not to say. Still, this is a royal throne, bestowed upon Bēl in time-honoured fashion. That it is now taken by the community of (Greek/Hellenized) citizens can hardly be a good thing. But perhaps all is still well. A second letter arrives, this time from the Parthian king himself. It reports the same victory over Elam but adopts a more overtly jubilant tone: “I did battle […(with)] Pittit, the Elamite enemy. I [overth]rew in battle fifteen thousand battle troops among his army … Elam in its entirety I smote with weapons”. Whatever exactly the original text of the letter might have said (presumably in Greek), in the Akkadian version of the diarist it reads like Babylon has finally been given the ruler it deserves: the king has gone on campaign and smitten the enemy. This time there appear to be no caveats: the Elamite foe has been captured, so Babylon can live in peace. The Babylonians duly acknowledge the good news by providing sacrificial animals for the messenger of the king: 19’ (…) U4 BI lúŠÀ-TAM É-sag-gíl u lúEki meš lúUKKIN šá É-sag-gíl 1-e [n GU 4] ù 2 SISKUR ina KÁ-DUMU-NUN-NA šá É-sag-gíl ana lúKIN-GI 4-A LUGAL MU-a-tì NIDBA GUBmeš-niš-šú ana dEN 20’ [dGAŠAN-i]á DINGIRmeš GALmeš DÙ-uš [x] E? KI ? KIN ?-GI 4 LUGAL GÙ-DÉ-ú ITU BI SA[R-tú? lú]ar-ba-a-a GIM IGI-ú 19’ (…) That day, the administrator of Esagila and the Babylonians, the assembly of Esagila, provided one bull and two sheep sacrifices at the “Gate of the Son of the Prince” of Esagila for that messenger of the king as an offering, and he sacrificed them to Bēl 20’ [and Bēlti]ya, the great gods. […] … a message? (or rather “the message”?) of the king was read. That month, there was plundering by the Arabs as before. The king, we recall, has just sent the most powerfully redeeming letter in the whole of the Astronomical Diaries — yet still his written words fall flat. Although the royal messenger sacrifices to Bēl and Bēltīya in time-honoured 53

For the chronology of Hyspaosines’ rule over Babylonia see Schuol (2000: 294–295). The interpretation proposed here rests on Del Monte’s reading of the text, endorsed by van der Spek, according to which it was Hyspaosines who donated the throne to Bēl; see Del Monte (1997: 142) and contrast adart iii, p. 279.

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fashion, the mood in the city remains subdued. There is little sense here of the communal revelry that accompanied, for example, the visit of Antiochus iii to Babylon in 188/187 bce.54 A further message from the king (or perhaps another reading of his original letter?) does nothing to improve matters. He may have smitten the Elamite, but still the Arabs plunder “as before” (adart iii No. -124B ‘rev.’ 19’–20’). adart iii No. -124 is perhaps the most painfully poignant of all the early Parthian Diaries. Just as a new and better era seems to dawn, we are reminded that, on the ground in Babylon, nothing much has changed. The Arabs still plunder, and the king is still away. 5 Conclusions The authors of the Astronomical Diaries are no historians in the classical sense. They did not trace the rise of Parthia, as Polybius might have done, or the downfall of Babylon as Tacitus traced that of Rome. However, I hope to have shown that, certainly in the early Parthian Diaries, they achieve much more than a mere compilation of disjointed historical facts. What they produce is narrative history, not raw data; and the effect can be striking indeed. At times the tone is darkly ironic, as when the Elamite king “marches victoriously” through Babylonia just when the Babylonian king is busy doing the same in Egypt. At other times it is dramatic, as when the priests of Borsippa engage in a dispute with a mad sailor who has been washed up by the latest wave of external attack and inner turmoil. Then again we detect a wistful note, recalling the generosity of a former king just as we celebrate the military might of his conqueror. All this is compelling writing, even if one grants that it was directed at a tiny audience of elite readers. Beyond writing effectively and sometimes movingly about the decline of Babylon, the diarists also suggest an analysis of why Babylonian history unfolded the way it did during those dark years after the Seleucid collapse. They do not reflect explicitly on patterns of historical causation, but they indirectly suggest such patterns in the way they arrange and shape the historical data. Their overall concern is with kingship, and the king’s relationship with the city: in the diarists’ view, Babylon becomes engulfed in adversity because the king is not present to provide redress. We first see this at a fairly basic level, as external enemies take advantage of the empire’s weakened state. This is not merely a matter of kings defaulting on their duty to fight on behalf of their subjects (paradoxically, it is because Demetrius ii is so successful in Egypt 54

adart iii No. -187 rev. 6’ (NB nigûtu).

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that the Elamite king can be so devastating in Babylonia) — nor are Babylon’s problems restricted to external threats. External pressure leads to moral and cultural breakdown within the region, and the city. Thus, the king’s absence stokes treachery among his generals and compels his subjects to attack and plunder the very troops who were sent to defend them against enemy attack. A similar process of inner corruption under outward pressure may be observed in the story of the mad sailor who emerges from the devastation of the Tigris harbour; and from the episode of Babylonians bribing Arab marauders to gain safe passage outside their city. All these episodes are merely vignettes in a much larger canvass, but taken together they show us a community of stargazers straining to comprehend the decline of their city in real time. The result may not be historiography as a Polybius or Tacitus might have understood it, but it deserves to be read with the same attention and care as other historical accounts that survive from the ancient world. References Boiy, T., 2004, Late Achaemenid and Hellenistic Babylon (Leeuven: Peeters). Clancier, P., 2007, “La Babylonie hellénistique, aperçu d’histoire politique et culturelle”, Topoi 15, 21–74. Clancier, P., 2011, “Cuneiform Culture’s Last Guardians: the Old Urban Notability of Hellenistic Uruk”, in K. Radner and E. Robson (eds), Handbook of Cuneiform Culture (Oxford: Oxford University Press), 752–773. Clancier, P. & J. Monerie, 2014, “Les sanctuaires babyloniens à l’époque hellénistique. Évolution d’un relais de pouvoir”, Topoi 19, 181–237. De Breucker, G.E.E., 2011, “Berossos Between Tradition and Innovation”, in K. Radner and E. Robson (eds), Handbook of Cuneiform Culture (Oxford: Oxford University Press), 637–657. De Zorzi, N., 2011a, Divinazione e intertestualità: la serie divinatoria Shumma izbu e il suo orizzonte culturale (Venice: Università Ca’ Foscari). De Zorzi, N., 2011b, “The Omen Series Šumma Izbu: Internal Structure and Hermeneutic Strategies”, KASKAL 8, 43–75. Del Monte, G. F., 1997, Testi dalla Babilonia Ellenistica I: Testi Cronografici (Pisa and Rome: Istituti Editoriali e Poligrafici Internazionali). Dillery, J., 2015, Clio’s Other Sons (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press). Grajetzki, W., 2011, Greeks and Parthians in Mesopotamia and Beyond, 331 BC–AD 224 (Bristol: Bristol Classical Press). Haubold, J., 2013, Greece and Mesopotamia: Dialogues in Literature (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press).

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Kosmin, P., 2014, The Land of the Elephant Kings: Space, Territory and Ideology in the Seleucid Empire (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press). Kosmin, P. J., 2018, Time and its Adversaries in the Seleucid Empire (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press). Kuhrt, A., 1987, “Berossus’ Babyloniaka and Seleucid Rule in Babylonia”, in A. Kuhrt and S. Sherwin-White (eds), Hellenism in the East: The Interaction of Greek and NonGreek Civilizations from Syria to Central Asia after Alexander (London: Duckworth), 32–56. Kuhrt, A. and S. Sherwin-White, 1993, From Samarkhand to Sardis: A New Approach to the Seleucid Empire (Berkeley: University of California Press). Linssen, M.J.H., 2004, The Cults of Uruk and Babylon: The Temple Ritual as Evidence for Hellenistic Cult Practice (Leiden: Brill). Mitsuma, Y., 2015, “From Preliminary Diaries to Short Diaries: The First and Second Steps in the Compilation Process of the Late Babylonian Astronomical Diaries”, SCIAMUS: Sources and Commentaries in Exact Sciences 16, 53–73. Nielsen, J., 2015, “‘I Overwhelmed the King of Elam’: Remembering Nebuchadnezzar I in Persian Babylonia”, in J. Silverman and C. Waerzeggers (eds), Political Memory in and after the Persian Empire (Atlanta: SBL Press), 53–73. Nissinen, M., 2002, “A Prophetic Riot in Seleucid Babylonia”, in H. Irsigler (ed.), “Wer darf hinaufsteigen zum Berg JHWHs?” Beiträge zu Prophetie und Poesie des Alten Testaments. Festschrift für Sigurđur Örn Steingrímsson (St. Ottilien: Eos Verlag), 63–74. Olmstead, A.T., 1937, “Cuneiform Texts and Hellenistic Chronology”, Classical Philology 32, 1–14. Pirngruber, R., 2013, “The Historical Sections of the Astronomical Diaries in Context: Developments in a Late Babylonian Scientific Text Corpus”, Iraq 75, 197–210. Pirngruber, R., 2017, The Economy of Late Achaemenid and Seleucid Babylonia (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press). Schuol, M., 2000, Die Charakene. Ein mesopotamisches Königreich in hellenistisch-­ parthischer Zeit (Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag). van der Spek, R.J., 1997/8, “New Evidence from the Babylonian Astronomical Diaries concerning Seleucid and Arsacid History”, Archiv für Orientforschung 44/45, 168–175. van der Spek, R.J., 2000, Review of: G.F. Del Monte, Testi dalla Babilonia Ellenistica i: Testi cronografici, Orientalia 69, 433–438. van der Spek, R.J., 2009, “Multi-ethnicity and Ethnic Segregation in Hellenistic Babylon”, in T. Derks and N. Roymans (eds), Ethnic Constructs in Antiquity. The Role of Power and Tradition (Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press), 101–115. van der Spek, R.J., 2014 “Ik ben een boodschapper van Nanaia!” Een Babylonische profeet als teken des tijds (133 voor Christus). Afscheidsrede Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam 10 oktober 2014 (Amsterdam: Vrije Universiteit).

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van der Spek, R.J., 2015, “Madinatu = URUmeš, ‘Satrapy, Province, District, Country’ in Late Babylonian”, Archiv für Orientforschung 53, 110–116. Waerzeggers, C., 2012, “The Babylonian Chronicles: Classification and Provenance”, Journal of Near Eastern Studies 71, 285–298. Zgoll, A., 2006, “Königslauf und Götterrat. Struktur und Deutung des babylonischen Neujahrsfestes”, in E. Blum and R. Lux (eds), Festtraditionen in Israel und im Alten Orient. Veröffentlichungen der Wissenschaftlichen Gesellschaft für Theologie 28 (Gütersloh: Gütersloher Verlagshaus), 11–80.

Chapter 10

The Relationship between Greco-Macedonian Citizens and the “Council of Elders” in the Arsacid Period: New Evidence from Astronomical Diary BM 35269 + 35347 + 35358 Yasuyuki Mitsuma 1 Introduction* The purpose of this chapter is to introduce the historical account of the unpublished Astronomical Diary preserved on the tablet BM 35269 + 35347 + 35358,1 and to clarify the relationship between the “citizens” and the “council of elders” mentioned in this text. “Citizens” in this chapter indicates the population group called puliṭē or puliṭānu in (Late Babylonian) Akkadian cuneiform texts. puliṭē and puliṭānu both correspond to πολῖται in Greek, and refer to a group of “citizens”.2 When an individual person in this group is mentioned, 1-en TA, “one of”, is attached before the words puliṭē/puliṭānu.3 The puliṭē/puliṭānu of Babylon, Seleucia on the Tigris, and Kār Aššur are attested in the Astronomical Diaries and Chronicles from Seleucid and Arsacid Babylon.4 The “council of elders” in this chapter indicates a group called peliganānu in Akkadian, * This chapter is a revised version of Yasuyuki Mitsuma, “Relationship between Greco-­ Macedonian Citizens and ‘Council of Elders’ in the Arsacid Period: Attested in the Hitherto Unpublished Astronomical Diary BM 35269+35347+35358”, Bulletin of the Society for Near Eastern Studies in Japan 58/1 (2015): 30–39 (in Japanese). The research for this chapter was funded by JSPS KAKENHI Grant 26870111, 17H04527, 18H05445, and 18K00987. My thanks go to the Trustees of the British Museum and Irving L. Finkel, who joined the tablet BM 35269 + 35347 + 35358, for allowing me to publish the tablet, and to Cornelia Wunsch and Ran Zadok for their suggestions in reading the text on BM 35269+. I also thank Editage (www.editage.jp) for English language editing. 1 The format “n/n-1 bce” is used to show the Julian equivalent to a Babylonian year in this chapter. Since a Babylonian year begins in spring, its beginning and end belong to different Julian years. The abbreviations in this chapter follow the list in Roth (2010) and OCD4, except for those in the list attached to the end of the chapter. 2 Van der Spek (2005: 396; 2009: 107–108); see also Boiy (2004: 206). 3 adart iii Nos. -136C ′rev.′ 12′; -129A2 ′obv.′ 17′; -87A ′rev.′ 16′; -77A ′obv. 26′, rev.′ 29. 4 The city of Babylon was ruled by the Seleucids from 305/304 bce to 141/140 bce, by the Arsacids from 141/140 bce to CE 224. For the location of Kār Aššur, see Kessler (2013). © koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���9 | doi:10.1163/9789004397767_012

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r­ eflecting the Greek word πελιγᾶνες.5 The Akkadian form peliganānu is attested in the chronographic text (a Chronicle or a part of a Diary) bchp 18A(+)B.6 Since bchp 18A(+)B mainly concerns historical events in Babylon, it is possible that the “council of elders” belonged to the “citizens” of Babylon.7 However, the text is badly damaged and shows no clear relationship between the “council of elders” and the “citizens” of Babylon or any other city. In what follows, I introduce a new historical account in the Astronomical Diary fragment BM 35269 + 35347 + 35358, which clearly mentions the “[p]uliṭē, who are called peliga[nānu]”. Although their domicile is not stated, it is highly probable that the new account indicates the relationship between the “council of elders” and the “citizens” of Babylon. Before introducing the new text, I will survey the previously known attestations of the “citizens” and the “council of elders”. 2

“Citizens” and “Council of Elders” in the Existing Sources

The Diaries and Chronicles provide us with 52 attestations of puliṭē/puliṭānu. These attestations range chronologically from the first half of the second century bce to the first half of the first century bce. Most attestations mention the “citizens” of Babylon. “Citizens” of other cities are also attested, but attestations of this type are very few. The 52 attestations can be categorized as follows: Clear attestations of the “citizens ‘who are in Babylon (šá ina Eki)’”: Attestations of a group that can be identified as the “citizens” of Babylon with some probability: Attestations of “citizens” whose domicile is uncertain: 5

6 7 8

9 10

178 139 1810

The translation “council of elders” follows “(council of) ‘elders’” of van der Spek (2009: 109) and “council of elders” of OCD4, s.v. “Seleuceia on Tigris” (by M.S. Drower, S.M. Sherwin-White, and R.J. van der Spek). Sarakinski (2010: 32–35) argues that membership of the πελιγᾶνες was not determined by age. For an edition of a part of the text (including the attestation of peliganānu), see van der Spek (2006: 284–288). Van der Spek (2005: 398, 400; 2009: 109, 112–113); Mitsuma (2009: 188–189). adart iii Nos. -162 rev. 11–12; -161A1+2 ′obv.′ 21′; -155A rev. 12 – upper edge 2; -144 ′obv. 36′–37′; -134B obv.′ 16–17; -132B rev. 23–25; -132D2 ′rev.′ 14′–15′; -129A2 ′obv.′ 17′; -124A ′obv.′ 6′; -124B ′rev.′ 12′–14′, 14′–16′, 17′–19′; -119C ′obv. 11′–12′; -118A ′rev. 18′–19′; -90 ′obv. 30′–31′; -82A ′rev. 19′–20′; bchp 18A rev.?  19′. adart iii Nos. -162 rev. 12–13; -161A1+2 ′obv.′ 22′, 28′–29′; -144 ′obv. 34′–35′; -140A ′rev. 5′–6′; -129A1 ′obv.′ 8′; -118B upper edge 3; -77B ′rev.′ 16′; bchp 14 obv. 1–7, 8–12; bchp 15 rev. 6–9; bchp 18A rev.?  6′–7′; bchp 18C 5′. bchp 18C is a fragment of a Diary tablet. adart ii No. -168A obv.′ 14–15; adart iii Nos. -140C ′rev. 37′–38′; -136C ′rev.′ 12′–13′; -130B ′rev.?′ 2′; -125A obv.′ 18; -108A ′obv.′ 13′; -82A ′rev. 23′–24′; -82B ′rev.′ 3′, 5′; -77A ′obv. 26′, 26′–27′, rev.′ 29–30; -72 ′flake′ 9′; -62 ′rev. 3′; bchp 13 obv. 1–4; bchp 18B rev.?

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Attestations of the “citizens” of Seleucia (on the Tigris): Attestation of the “citizens” of Kār Aššur:

311 112

The “citizens” of Babylon should be distinguished from the “Babylonians (Bābilāya)” represented by the šatammu (chief administrator and high priest) and kiništu (temple council) of Esagila, the temple of the chief god Marduk.13 The term “citizens” points to Greco-Macedonian culture, which spread into Babylon under Alexander the Great and the Seleucids.14 The character of the “citizens” of Babylon is well attested in the Chronicle bchp 14 obv. 1–7, which reads as follows:15 bchp 14 Obv. 1 MU-1-me-49-KAM man LUGAL itiD[U6? U4-nn-KÁM] Year 149 (SE, 163/162 bce), An(tiochus16 was) king. Month Taš[rītu, day nn,] 2 lúia-’-man-na-a-a-ni MU-šú-nu lúp[u-li-ṭa-nu] the Greeks (lit. Ionians), who are called p[uliṭānu], 3 šá ina IGI-ma ina qí-bi šá man LUGAL ina E[ki KU 4meš] (and) who formerly [entered] Babylon at the command of An(tiochus), the king 4 u Ì-GIŠ ŠÉŠmeš l[ì]b-bu-ú lúpu-l[i-ṭa-nu] and anoint themselves with oil like the pul[iṭānu] 5 šá ina urusi-lu-ki-˹’-˺a-a URU LUGAL-ú-t[u] who are in Seleucia, the city of kingship 6 šá ina muḫ-ḫi ídIDIGNA u ÍD LUGAL which (is situated) on the Tigris and the King’s Canal,

11 12 13 14 15 16

7′–8′; BM 34434 6ʹ; BM 35769 9ʹ.BM 34434 and BM 35769 are fragments of Diary tablets. Editions by R.J. van der Spek and I.L. Finkel can be found at www.livius.org/cg-cm/chronicles/ bchp-messengers/messengers_politai1.html and www.livius.org/cg-cm/chronicles/bchparsacid-politai/arsacid_politai.html. adart iii Nos. -144 ′obv. 36′–37′; -140C ′rev. 29′–31′; bchp 14 obv. 1–7. adart iii No. -87A ′rev.′ 16′. On the šatammu, see van der Spek (2000: 437); Boiy (2004: 196–197). For the kiništu, see Boiy (2004: 202–204). On the identity of the “Babylonians” and the “citizens” of Babylon, see Del Monte (1997: 38–39, 76–77, 86–87, 96–97); Boiy (2004: 194–209); van der Spek (2009). An edition of this Chronicle is printed by van der Spek (2005: 403–404), who refers to it as an “Unpublished Babylonian Chronicle of 149 SE = 163/162 bce. BM 33870”. The lost signs are restored according to van der Spek (2005: 403). The Akkadian text of bchp 14 abbreviates the king’s name to man. For abbreviations of this type, see van der Spek (1985: cols. 557–558); Boiy (2004: 154, n. 116); Monerie (2014: 37).

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7 KI lúšá-kin7 u lúUNmeš KUR šá ina Eki L[Ú-NE GARmeš] [did] bat[tle] with the šaknu and the people of the land who are in Babylon.17 The two references to puliṭānu in this passage (obv. 2, 4) are both damaged and we must restore three or four signs to obtain the word. However, this restoration is reasonable, because the same Chronicle preserves the word puliṭānu in another line (obv. 9) which also concerns the same conflict. The Greco-­ Macedonian character of the “citizens” of Babylon is clear for the following reasons. First, they were thought to be “Ionians”, i.e. people from the Aegean region, including Greece and Western Anatolia.18 Secondly, the appellation puliṭānu (and its variant puliṭē) is derived from Greek πολῖται.19 Thirdly, the anointing with oil seems to have been the custom of Greek citizens, who exercised naked in the gymnasium, anointing themselves with olive oil.20 The existence of a gymnasium in Babylon is attested by SEG 7 39, a Greek inscription on a clay tablet.21 The inscription gives a list of winners in various athletic events in 202 SE (111/110 bce).22 If the restoration ina E[ki KU 4meš] of bchp 14 obv. 3 is correct, the line indicates that a Seleucid king called Antiochus introduced the “citizens” into ­Babylon. Van der Spek (2005: 396; 2009: 107–108) identifies this king with Antiochus iv (175/174–164/163 bce), while Boiy (2004: 207–208) argues for the existence of Greek “citizens” in Babylon from the reign of Antiochus iii (222/221– 187/186 bce) onwards. It is difficult to decide whether the “citizens” of Babylon were introduced in the reign of Antiochus iii or Antiochus iv. The oldest attestation of the “citizens” (bchp 13 obv. 1–4) is dated to 172/171 bce. Although their domicile is uncertain, the date may support the introduction of “citizens” to Babylon in the reign of Antiochus iv.23 However, an entry in the ­Astronomical

17

Van der Spek (2009: 108) discusses the identity of the šaknu (“prefect”) and the “people of the land”. 18 The forms Yamanāya and Yamnāya are commonly used to refer to Greeks (~ “Ionians”) in Assyrian and Babylonian cuneiform sources. For the meaning of Yamanāya/Yamnāya, see Rollinger (2009: 32). For a survey of the changing conception of Yamanāya/Yamnāya (and their Old Persian and Elamite equivalents) from the Neo-Assyrian to the Achaemenid periods, see Rollinger (2009: 33–43). 19 Van der Spek (2005: 396; 2009: 107–108); see also Boiy (2004: 206). 20 Van der Spek (2005: 396; 2009: 108). 21 Van der Spek (2005: 398; 2009: 110). An edition of the inscription is provided in van der Spek (2005: 406–407). 22 202 SE corresponds to 111/110 bce according to the Macedonian calendar, which is used in Greek sources. 23 Van der Spek (2009: 107, n. 20).

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Diaries from the reign of Antiochus iii refers to the “governor of Babylon” (pāḫāt Bābili), the person who appears as the leader of the “citizens” in later texts.24 The passage in question reports that the “governor”, and one (or more) other individual(s), presented some gold work to King Antiochus (adart ii No. -187A ′rev. 9′–10′). The identity of the follower(s) of the “governor” is unclear because the text is damaged immediately after the mention of the “governor”. They may be the “citizens” of Babylon, because the “governor of Babylon” is often mentioned together with them in later texts.25 If the “governor” of adart ii No. -187A is indeed mentioned along with the “citizens”, the date of their introduction into Babylon goes back to the reign of Antiochus iii.26 Whether in the reign of Antiochus iii or in the reign of Antiochus iv, the first attestation of the “citizens” dates to the first half of the second century bce. If there were some “citizens” in Babylon in the third century bce, the size of the community would have been too small to be mentioned in the Diaries and the Chronicles. Van der Spek restores the word l[ú]˹bu??-le?-˺e (būlē, Greek βουλή, “council”) in bchp 14 obv. 10.27 Mitsuma (2009: 188) thinks that LBAT 841 7 also mentions the būlē (lúbu-l[e-e]), and that this was probably the council of the “citizens” of Babylon. However, the readings of these words are not definite because of the damage sustained by the relevant tablets. The word in LBAT 841 7 can alternatively be read lúpu-l[i-ṭe-e].28 Even if these passages actually mention the būlē, neither offers clear evidence regarding the relationship between the council and the “citizens” of Babylon. Another type of council, the “council of elders (peliganānu)”, is attested in the chronographic text bchp 18A(+)B and is thought to have belonged to the “citizens” of Babylon.29 peliganānu is an Akkadian version of the Greek word πελιγᾶνες. Greek sources clarify the function of the πελιγᾶνες as a governing body of a population group or a city.30 Strabo explains πελιγόνες, a variant of πελιγᾶνες, as a word for officials used by Macedonians, Thesprotians, and Molossians, and relates it to the word πελιοί (elders).31 Hesychius, a lexicographer probably active in the fifth century ce,32 claims that πελιγᾶνες is a word 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32

Del Monte (1997: 86–87, 96–97); van der Spek (2005: 396; 2009: 108). adart iii Nos. -161A1+2 ′obv.′ 21′; -132B rev. 23–25; -90 ′obv. 30′–31′ and passim. Boiy (2004: 207, n. 16). Van der Spek (2005: 403). Robartus J. van der Spek, personal communication, 16 December, 2011. Van der Spek (2005: 398, 400; 2009: 109, 112–113); Mitsuma (2009: 188–189). See also van der Spek (2006: 288). For the character of the πελιγᾶνες, see Sarakinski (2010). Strabo 7. F2 (Epitome Vaticana). OCD4, s.v. “Hesychius” (by P.B.R. Forbes and R. Browning).

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for councillors, and that it was used by Syrians.33 Some Greek inscriptions also mention πελιγᾶνες. IGLSyr4 1261 reports that the πελιγᾶνες of Laodicea by the Sea (Latakia) made a decision in 138 SE (175/174 bce according to the Macedonian calendar).34 The decision regulated statue dedications in a privatelyowned sanctuary and complemented a former decree concerning the same kind of regulation for civic land. SEG 48 785 is a letter from King Philip V of Macedonia (221–179 bce) to the ἐπιστάτης, πελιγᾶνες, and remaining citizens of Dion. Gatier (2013) proposes the restoration of the word [π]ε̣λειγᾶσι in an inscription found at Eyvān-e Karkhē near Susa.35 Polybius reports that ἀδειγάνες were banished from Seleucia on the Tigris, which was occupied by Molon during his revolt against Antiochus iii (221–220 bce).36 This punitive measure was enacted by the Seleucid minister Hermeias immediately after the suppression of the revolt. ἀδειγάνες is thought to be a corrupt form of πελιγᾶνες.37 If that is correct, the πελιγᾶνες of Seleucia were considered an obstacle to restoring Seleucid rule in this city, a point that may indicate their political importance.38 An Akkadian form of πελιγᾶνες, peliganānu, appears in bchp 18A(+)B. This chronographic text records historical events in the 130s or 120s bce, or shortly thereafter.39 The mention of peliganānu is found in B rev.? 3′, which reads as follows: bchp 18B Rev.? 3′ ník-˹kàs?-˺šú-nu lúpe-li-ga-na-a-n[u….] peliganān[u…] their property. The word peliganānu is attested clearly. However, the context is almost entirely lost. Although van der Spek (2005: 398, 400; 2009: 109, 112–113) and Mitsuma (2009: 188–189) think that the “council of elders” could have been an institution of the “citizens” of Babylon, we cannot find any definite connection between 33 Hesychius s.v. “πελιγᾶνες”. 34 For the first edition of the inscription, see Roussel (1942–1943: 21–23, Pls. i–ii). For a new interpretation of the text, see Sosin (2005). 35 A photo and copy were first published by Rahbar (2008: 370). The text is edited in Rougemont (2012: 24–27). 36 Polyb. 5.54.10. 37 Roussel (1942–1943: 31–32); van der Spek (2005: 398; 2009: 109). 38 Sarakinski (2010: 42–43). 39 For the dating, see the general commentary on bchp 18A(+)B by R.J. van der Spek: www.livius.org/cg-cm/chronicles/bchp-bagayasha/bchp-bagayasha3.html#General_ commentary.

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the “council of elders” of bchp 18A(+)B and the “citizens” of Babylon or any other city such as Seleucia on the Tigris or Kār Aššur. However, the fragmentary Diary tablet BM 35269 + 35347 + 35358 includes a phrase which indicates the relationship between “council of elders” and “citizens”. I will introduce it in the following section and clarify its historical value. 3

The Relationship between the “Council of Elders” and the “Citizens”

BM 35269 + 35347 + 35358 is a fragmentary clay tablet inscribed with an Astronomical Diary entry. The tablet measures 62.6 x 82.1 x 34.3 mm. Copies of BM 35269 and BM 35358 have already been published in LBAT (LBAT 700 and 720, respectively). Three fragments were joined by Irving L. Finkel in August 1988.40 The preserved part is near the lower and right hand edges of the original tablet. The obverse of the tablet contains the texts of LBAT 700, LBAT 720 obv.?, and BM 35347. The original edges are lost, but the layer immediately below the obverse is partly folded in the lower left and upper right parts of the preserved fragment. The part of the tablet that originally formed the lower right corner is largely lost. When one turns the tablet over, the reverse surface, which corresponds to LBAT 720 rev.?, and the layers below it show a slope that generally ascends from the upper to the lower end of the tablet, and from right to left. However, an inner layer descends slightly leftward in the leftmost part of the tablet. This means that the left end of the fragment BM 35269+ reaches the middle of the original tablet in a lateral direction, while the upper end (the lower end of the reverse) does not reach the middle of the original tablet in a longitudinal direction. Generally speaking, BM 35269+ incompletely preserves the lower right part (the upper right of the reverse) of the original tablet. Every line of the fragment has thus lost its original left half. In spite of the poor condition of BM 35269+, we can say that it contained an Astronomical Diary with two or more monthly sections. This means that the text of BM 35269+ should be categorized either as a “Standard Diary” or a “Short Diary”.41 The preserved part of the tablet clearly shows the typical ­format of these types of Diaries, which was fixed toward the mid-third century bce.42 Lines ′obv.′ 1′–5′ of the tablet partially preserve a sky report, a price list 40 41 42

Christopher B.F. Walker, personal communication, 11 October, 2011 and 22 October, 2016. On these two groups of Diaries, see Mitsuma (2015: 53–56). On the format and its historical development, see Mitsuma (2009: 37–40; 2015: 53–56).

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of commodities, and a summary of planetary positions for a certain month. One would have expected a report on the level of the Euphrates to follow the summary on the original tablet, but this cannot be seen on the preserved part. The lines ′obv.′ 6′–10′ preserve part of the historical account which marks the end of the first (preserved) monthly section. The next monthly section begins with another sky report, which is only partly preserved in ′obv.′ 11′–16′. The remaining lines are lost at the bottom end of the tablet. A part of the price list for the same month can be seen on ′rev.′ 2′–4′. It is followed by the river level report for the month, with the beginning preserved on ′rev.′ 5′. A planetary summary must have preceded the river level report on the original, but it is now completely lost. The historical account of the Diary contains a mention of the “council of elders” (peliganānu). Below I give the transliteration and translation of the preserved part of the historical account. BM 35269 + 35347 + 35358 ′Obv.′ 6′ […mmi-it-ra-da-]˹ta-˺a? lúGAL.GAL ú-qa-an ḫi-ṭu šá LUGAL ana IGIšú-nu I? ˹x˺[xxx] […Mithrida]tes(?), the marshal, […] the punishment of the king43 to them […] 7′ […lúp]u-li-ṭe4-e šá i-ṭár-ri-du-ú lúpe-li-ga-[na-a-nu] […the ci]tizens who are called peliga[nānu] 8′ […i]p-ḫu-ru-nim-ma ú-nu-ut MÈ ana IGI-šú-nu ˹xxxx˺[xxxx] […] they assembled and […] battle equipment against them […] 9′ […] ˹x˺ šá la maš-a-a-al-tú GAZmeš ITI BI ˹xx˺[xxxxx(x)] […] they were killed without any interrogation. That month, […] 10′ […IT]I BI ŠÈGmeš u ILLUmeš KUD[meš xxxxxx(x)] […] That month, rains and floods were cut off.44 […] As I noted above, every line of the tablet only preserves its right half or less. This means that every line was at least twice as long as the preserved text. Therefore, it is difficult to reconstruct the connection between the preserved portions of text in ′obv.′ 6′–9′. ′Obv.′ 9′ ends with the phrase “That month 43 44

For “punishment of the king (ḫīṭu ša šarri)”, see Kleber (2008: 68–71); Magdalene (2014: 49–64). Similar entries are placed at the end of some historical sections in the Diaries of the late second and the first half of the first centuries bce (adart iii Nos. -107D ′rev. 21′; -77B ′rev.′ 17′).

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(ITI BI)”. Since this phrase is used to indicate a change of topic in the historical parts of the Astronomical Diaries,45 we can confidently say that a thematic unit ends with the verb GAZmeš, “they were killed”, in ′obv.′ 9′. However, there are some possible connections we can draw between the text of ′obv.′ 6′–8′ and the left half of ′obv.′ 9′. Originally, the tablet must have indicated the year that it covers on the upper edge, the left edge, at the beginning of the first monthly section, or in the concluding line(s) after the last section. The names of the months will have been indicated at the beginning of every monthly section. However, all these parts are lost on the tablet as it survives. Astronomical data sometimes give important clues regarding the date of Diaries which do not preserve a dating formula. The sky reports of BM 35269+ are poorly preserved, which makes the dating of the text difficult. However, the mention of a rabbi uqāni, “marshal”, on ′obv.′ 6′ is of valuable assistance. This office appears in the Diaries only after 112/111 bce,46 and replaces the office of “general above the four generals”.47 The latter appears in the Diaries from Šabāṭu 230/229 bce to Tašrītu 119/118 bce.48 The latter date is thus the terminus post quem for the historical account of BM 35269+. The personal name of the “marshal” is one more clue as to the date of the Diary. We only know two people who filled the office of “marshal”, Mithridates and Mithrates. The former’s name is written mmi-it-ra-da-ta-a49 or mmi-it-rada-ta.50 The latter’s name is written mmi-it-ra-a-ṭu.51 BM 35269+ only preserves the last part of the name of the “marshal”, -ta-a. However, this ending clearly corresponds to that of mmi-it-ra-da-ta-a and we can therefore identify the “marshal” of BM 35269+ with Mithridates. The attestations of his name indicate that he held the office from Ayyāru 112/111 bce to Kislīmu 100/99 bce. He may have continued doing so until 91/90 bce since the other “marshal” Mithrates is only attested in the Diaries from Araḫsamna 91/90 bce to Du’ūzu 84/83 bce. Araḫsamna 91/90 bce may thus serve as a terminus ante quem for the historical account of BM 35269+. 45 46 47 48 49 50 51

On the function of this phrase, see Mitsuma (2009: 38). adart iii Nos. -111A obv.′ 17; -111C ′flake′ 4′; -107C ′rev. 15′; -99B ′flake′ 15′; -95A ′flake′ 11′; -90 ′obv. 15′, 32′, 49′, rev.′ 18; -87C ′rev. 49′-50′; -86A ′rev.′ 3′; -83 ′obv.′ 2′–6′, 21′, rev.′ 17, 19; -82B ′rev.′ 4′, 6′; -72 ′flake′ 11′. Mitsuma (2002: 45–47; 2009: 121–122; 2010). The earliest attestation is at adart ii No. -229B ′obv.′ 9′ (for the appellation of the general there, see Mitsuma 2007). The latest one is at adart iii No. -118A ′rev. 21′. adart iii Nos. -111C ′flake′ 4′; -99B ′flake′ 15′. adart iii No. -107C ′rev. 15′. adart iii Nos. -90 ′obv. 15′, 32′; -87C ′rev. 49′; -83 ′obv.′ 2′?, 5′, 6′, 21′, rev.′ 17, 19.

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The orthography of the title rabbi uqāni may also assist with the dating of the historical account of BM 35269+. The title is spelled lúGAL.GAL ú-qa-an on the tablet. However, it is spelled lúGAL.GAL ú-qa-a-nu52 or [lúGAL.GAL ú-]qa-nu53 in the Diaries from Nisannu 112/111 bce to Nisannu 96/95 bce. The spelling lúGAL.GAL ú-qa-an is attested in the Diaries from Araḫsamna 91/90 bce to Addaru 83/82 bce.54 The spelling evidently changed at some time between Nisannu 96/95 bce and Araḫsamna 91/90 bce. The historical account of BM 35269+ may thus be dated to a time in that same period, when Mithridates still filled the office of “marshal” (Mithrates held the office from Araḫsamna 91/90 bce at the latest) and the spelling of the title rabbi uqāni had already changed to lúGAL.GAL ú-qa-an. BM 35269+ mentions [lúp]u-li-ṭe4-e šá i-ṭár-ri-du-ú lúpe-li-ga-[na-a-nu], “[the ci]tizens who are called (lit. ‘whom they call’) peliga[nānu]”, on ′obv.′ 7′.55 The signs i-ṭár-ri-du-ú represent iṭarridū, the G-stem present 3rd masculine plural form of the verb ṭarādu, which is used impersonally here.56 We may also restore the phrase as [1-en TA lúp]u-li-ṭe4-e šá i-ṭár-ri-du-ú lúpe-li-ga-[na-a-nu], “[one of the ci]tizens who are called peliga[nānu]”.57 Therefore, we can say that BM 35269+ mentions a group of “citizens” called the “council of elders” or a member of the group. We have almost completely lost the context in which the “council of elders” was mentioned in bchp 18A(+)B. We cannot, therefore, use it to clarify the relationship between the “council of elders” and the “citizens” of Babylon or any other city. However, BM 35269+ does show clearly that the “council of elders” 52 53 54

55 56 57

adart iii Nos. -111A obv.′ 17; -99B ′flake′ 15′; -95A ′flake′ 11′. adart iii No. -107C ′rev. 15′. adart iii Nos. -90 ′obv. 15′, 32′, 49′, rev.′ 18; -86A ′rev.′ 3′; -82B ′rev.′ 4′, 6′. Although the historical account of adart iii No. -82B ′rev.′ 2′–7′ is certainly in the section for Addaru 83/82 bce, the attestations of ′rev.′ 4′, 6′ may be dated to an earlier month. ′Rev.′ 3′ shows the date 16 Du’ūzu and no other date is attested between that and the end of ′rev.′ 7′, except for U4 BI, “that day”, on ′rev.′ 4′. No coherent sense can be made of the lines ′rev.′ 3′–7′ because the left and right ends of each line are lost. Therefore, the entries of ′rev.′ 4′ and 6′ may be dated to a time between 16 Du’ūzu and Addaru 83/82 bce. The phrase lúpu-li-ṭe4-e ˹x šá? i-˺ṭa-ri-˹du˺ […] “the citizens who are called […]” is also attested at adart iii No. -125A obv.′ 18. Seiro Haruta, Jun Ikeda, Keisuke Takai, and Shigeo Yamada, personal communications, 26 October, 2014. For the verb ṭarādu, “to call, name”, see McEwan (1986: 92–93); CAD, s.v. “ṭarādu B” (only N-stem is recognized there). However, we can reject the possibility of a similar restoration, [1-en TA lúp]u-li-ṭe4-e šá i-ṭár-ri-du-ú lúpe-li-ga-[nu], “[one of the ci]tizens, who is called *peliga[nu]”, because the Akkadian word peliganānu and its Greek equivalent πελιγᾶνες (ἀδειγάνες) are only attested in their plural forms: bchp 18B rev.? 3′; Strabo 7. F 2 (Epitome Vaticana); Hesychius s.v. “πελιγᾶνες”; IGLSyr4 1261: 22; SEG 48 785: 3; Gatier (2013: 205: 10); Polyb. 5.54.10.

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was formed by the “citizens”. This confirms that the “council of elders” was indeed an institution of the “citizens”, as Greek sources suggest. The domicile of the “citizens” is not mentioned in BM 35269+, but they were most probably the “citizens” of Babylon because this group is well attested in the Diaries and Chronicles, while we have only a few attestations of the “citizens” of Seleucia on the Tigris and Kār Aššur. If the “council of elders” of BM 35269+ was an institution of the “citizens” of Seleucia, the attestation on the tablet would substantiate the existence of a “council of elders” in this city, which has so far been a mere hypothesis based on correcting ἀδειγάνες (Polyb. 5.54.10) to πελιγᾶνες. 4

Concluding Remarks

The Diary of BM 35269+ informs us of the organisation of a “council of elders” by “citizens” in the Arsacid period. Their domicile was most probably Babylon, but we cannot rule out other cities (such as Seleucia on the Tigris or Kār Aššur). We hope further studies of unpublished Diary tablets will provide us with new sources about “citizens” and the “council of elders”, ideally in the form of one or more fragments joined to BM 35269+. 5 Abbreviations bchp

Finkel, I.L. and van der Spek, R.J., 2006, Babylonian Chronicles of the Hellenistic Period, Livius.org (www.livius.org/cg-cm/ chronicles/chron00.html), Scholarly Edition. IGLSyr4 Jalabert, L. and Mouterde, R., 1955, Inscriptions grecques et latines de la Syrie, Tome 4: Laodicée. Apamène (Paris: Geuthner). OCD4 Hornblower, S., Spawforth, A. and Eidinow, E. (eds), 2012, The Oxford Classical Dictionary, Fourth Edition (Oxford: Oxford University Press). References Boiy, T., 2004, Late Achaemenid and Hellenistic Babylon (Leuven: Peeters). Del Monte, G.F., 1997, Testi dalla Babilonia Ellenistica, vol. 1: Testi cronografici (Pisa and Rome: Istituti editoriali e poligrafici internazionali). Gatier, P.-L., 2013, “Des péliganes à Suse”, Zeitschrift für Papyrologie und Epigraphik 184, 205–210.

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Kessler, K., 2013, “Kār Aššur, Chalas(s)ar, Artemita: Assyrische Festung und griechische Polis in der Apolloniatis”, in M.C. Flossmann-Schütze et al. (eds), Kleine Götter— Große Götter: Festschrift für Dieter Kessler zum 65. Geburtstag (Vaterstetten: Brose), 273–284. Kleber, K., 2008, Tempel und Palast: Die Beziehungen zwischen dem König und dem Eanna-Tempel im spätbabylonischen Uruk (Münster: Ugarit-Verlag). Magdalene, F.R., 2014, “Administration of the Judicial System in the Late Babylonian Period”, Zeitschrift für altorientalische und biblische Rechtsgeschichte 20, 47–66. McEwan, G.J.P., 1986, “A Parthian Campaign against Elymais in 77 B.C.”, Iran 24, 91–94. Mitsuma, Y., 2002, “Offices of Generals in Seleucid and Aršakid Babylonia”, Bulletin of the Society for Near Eastern Studies in Japan 45/2, 26–55 (in Japanese). Mitsuma, Y., 2007, “‘The General in Charge of the Four stratēgiai’?”, Nouvelles assyriologiques brèves et utilitaires (2007), 9–10. Mitsuma, Y., 2009, Royal Officials and the City of Babylon in the Seleucid and Arsacid Periods: A Study of “Diaries”, PhD Dissertation, University of Tokyo (http://hdl.handle .net/2261/25547) (in Japanese). Mitsuma, Y., 2010, “The Dating of a Military Operation by the ‘General above the Four Generals’”, Nouvelles assyriologiques brèves et utilitaires (2010), 109. Mitsuma, Y., 2015, “From Preliminary Diaries to Short Diaries: The First and Second Steps in the Compilation Process of the Late Babylonian Astronomical Diaries”, SCIAMVS: Sources and Commentaries in Exact Sciences 16, 53–73. Monerie, J., 2014, D’Alexandre à Zoilos: Dictionnaire prosopographique des porteurs de nom grec dans les sources cunéiformes (Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag). Rahbar, M., 2008, “Historical Iranian and Greek Relations in Retrospect”, in S.M.R. Darbandi and A. Zournatzi (eds), Ancient Greece and Ancient Iran: Cross-Cultural Encounters (Athens: National Hellenic Research Foundation), 367–372. Rollinger, R., 2009, “Near Eastern Perspectives on the Greeks”, in G. Boys-Stones, B. Graziosi and P. Vasunia (eds), The Oxford Handbook of Hellenic Studies (Oxford: ­Oxford University Press), 32–47. Roth, M.T. (ed.), 2010, The Assyrian Dictionary of the Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago, vol. 20: U and W (Chicago: The Oriental Institute). Rougemont, G., 2012, “Les inscriptions grecques d’Iran et d’Asie centrale: Bilinguismes, interférences culturelles, colonisation”, Journal des savants (2012), 3–27. Roussel, P., 1942–1943, “Décret de péliganes de Laodicée-sur-Mer”, Syria 23, 21–32. Sarakinski, V., 2010, “Peliganes: the State of the Question and Some Other Thoughts”, Macedonian Historical Review 1, 31–46. Sosin, J.D., 2005, “Unwelcome Dedications: Public Law and Private Religion in Hellenistic Laodicea by the Sea”, Classical Quarterly 55/1, 130–139. van der Spek, R.J., 1985, “The Babylonian Temple during the Macedonian and Parthian Domination”, Bibliotheca Orientalis 42, 541–562.

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van der Spek, R.J., 2000, “The Šatammus of Esagila in the Seleucid and Arsacid Periods”, in J. Marzahn and H. Neumann (eds), Assyriologica et semitica: Festschrift für Joachim Oelsner anläßlich seines 65. Geburtstages am 18. Februar 1997 (Münster: Ugarit-Verlag), 437–446. van der Spek, R.J., 2005, “Ethnic Segregation in Hellenistic Babylon”, in W.H. van Soldt (ed.), Ethnicity in Ancient Mesopotamia: Papers Read at the 48th Rencontre assyriologique internationale, Leiden, 1–4 July 2002 (Leiden: Nederlands Instituut voor het Nabije Oosten), 393–408. van der Spek, R.J., 2006, “The Size and Significance of the Babylonian Temples under the Successors”, in P. Briant and F. Joannès (eds), La transition entre l’empire achéménide et les royaumes hellénistiques (vers 350–300 av. J.–C.) (Paris: De Boccard), 261–307. van der Spek, R.J., 2009, “Multi-ethnicity and Ethnic Segregation in Hellenistic Babylon”, in T. Derks and N. Roymans (eds), Ethnic Constructs in Antiquity: The Role of Power and Tradition (Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press), 101–115.

Index of Modern Authors Ambos, C. 134 Baker, H. 133 Beaulieu, P.-A. 129n46, 131, 134 Boiy, T. 107n112, 297 Bongenaar, A. C. V. M. 129n46 Brinkman, J. A. 40 Britton, J. P. 131

Maul, S. 225 Mitsuma, Y. 110n121, 299 Monerie, J. 137–138, 173 Nissinen, M. 163, 167 Oelsner, J. 138–139 Oppert, J. 41

Clancier P. 86n22, 95n65, 99n82, 137–138, 173, 186, 248

Pingree, D. 20, 21, 158 Pirngruber, R. 83, 98, 107, 157, 225, 227, 251, 270–271, 288

De Jong, M. 169–170 De Zorzi, N. 288 Del Monte, G. 167 Dillery, J. 102 Dirven, L. 141, 144

Radner, K. 124 Reiner, E. 128 Rochberg, F. 6 Rollinger, R. 93–94 Ruffing, K. 93–94

Finkel, I. 108

Sachs, A. 14, 15, 20, 33–34, 39–40, 212 Slotsky, A. 120 Steele, J. M. 122, 127, 135, 138n85, 222n35 Stevens, K. 256

Gabbay, U. 126 Gerber, M. 40n39 Glassner, J.-J. 40n39 Grayson, A. K. 34, 39–40, 42n44 Hackl, J. 132 Hallo, W. W. 33 Haubold, J. 99n82, 141 Hunger, H. 14, 20, 21, 65, 158, 212 Joannès, F. 135 Jursa, M. 129 Kessler, K. 134 Kosmin, P. 87n25, 286 Kugler, F. X. 33, 37n29, 41, 42n43 Kuhrt, A. 111 Lewis, I. 171–172 Linssen, M. 163n47

Tuplin, C. 201, 270 van der Spek, R. J. 40n39, 95n65, 99, 108, 110, 143, 163, 167, 240–241, 272n15, 297, 299 van der Torn, K. 171 Waerzeggers, C. 40, 107, 110–111, 129, 132, 156n10, 188 Winckler, H. 33 Wiseman, D. J. 38–39

Index of Sources A 3451 65n46 ab 247 143n110 ab 251 6 abc No. 1A 39–41 abc No. 1B 39–40 abc No. 1C 39–40 abc No. 2 40, 110 abc No. 3 40, 47, 110, 203, 258n73 abc No. 4 40, 47, 110 abc No. 5 40, 110, 258n75 abc No. 6 40, 110 abc No. 7 40, 107, 110–111 abc No. 9 107, 110, 193 abc No. 14 110 abc No. 15 110 abc No. 16 40, 47, 110 abc No. 17 110, 162n43 abc No. 23 73, 110 adart I No. -651 39, 40, 46–48, 79, 187 adart I No. -567 44–46, 48, 127n36, 187–188, 222n37 adart I No. -463 6n27, 44, 187, 222n25 adart I No. -453 44, 187 adart I No. -440 19, 80, 210n23, 255 adart I No. -418A 19, 187, 188n7, 222n37, 226n50 adart I No. -418B 44, 187 adart I No. -384 3n9 adart I No. -382 3n9, 8n31 adart I No. -381A 4, 226n50 adart I No. -381B 3n9 adart I No. -380B 3n9 adart I No. -378 81 adart I No. -373A 81, 249n43 adart I No. -373B 81 adart I No. -372A 4, 134 adart I No. -368 81n8 adart I No. -366A 199n4, 202n16, 246, 249n43, 256n66 adart I No. -361 134 adart I No. -346 62n34, 247n36 adart I No. -343 81, 226n50 adart I No. -331 228 adart I No. -330 10, 81, 162n41, 163n53, 201n10, 202n15, 226n49, 239

adart I No. -328 207n22, 225n44 adart I No. -324A 81, 138 adart I No. -322B 81 adart I No. -322D 81 adart I No. -321 138, 163n53, 225n44 adart I No. -309 81, 92, 93n57 adart I No. -304 80 adart I No. -302/-301 80 adart I No. -300 226n50 adart I No. -293 225n44, 228n56 adart I No. -284 225n44, 228n56 adart I No. -277A 81, 93n57, 163n54 adart I No. -277C 81, 107 adart I No. -273B 162n44, 199n4, 201b10, 202n13, 203n19, 210n23, 247, 248n39, 249n46, 250n47, 258, 261n86, 273 adart I No. -264 251n50 adart ii No. -257A 81n8 adart ii No. -255A 81n8 adart ii No. -254 163n54 adart ii No. -253 202n15, 210n23, 260 adart ii No. -251 81 adart ii No. -249 81, 249n46 adart ii No. -246 81 adart ii No. -245 162n41, 163n53, 189, 261n86 adart ii No. -240 163n54 adart ii No. -237 249n46 adart ii No. -236 249 adart ii No. -234A 223n40, 228n56 adart ii No. -232 64n39 adart ii No. -230 249n46 adart ii No. -229B 163n52, 302n48 adart ii No. -226A 81, 163n50 adart ii No. -214 81 adart ii No. -213 81n8 adart ii No. -210 228m58 adart ii No. -209D 163n49, 228n56 adart ii No. -204 162n41, 242n18, 247n35, 252, 253n56, 271 adart ii No. -202 7n30 adart ii No. -192A 189 adart ii No. -187A 201n11, 243, 247n35, 253n55, 290n54, 298 adart ii No. -183 251n50

Index of Sources adart ii No. -182C 163n53 adart ii No. -181 260n84, 261n86 adart ii No. -178C 162n45, 247n35, 249n46, 253 adart ii No. -176B 249n46 adart ii No. -175B 163n54, 225n44, 228n56 adart ii No. -171 247n35, 253n56 adart ii No. -170 83 adart ii No. -168A 107n112, 203n19, 210n23, 248, 251n50, 258n73, 274, 295n10 adart ii No. -164A 64n39, 81n8 adart iii No. -163C 260n84, 271 adart iii No. -162 271, 295n8 adart iii No. -161A 223n40, 272, 295n8, 298n25 adart iii No. -160A 254n58 adart iii No. -160C 163n49 adart iii No. -158B 162n45, 163n49, 199n4 adart iii No. -157A 81n8 adart iii No. -156 64n39, 272 adart iii No. -155A 199n4, 272, 295n8 adart iii No. -152 199n4 adart iii No. -149A 201n10, 272 adart iii No. -149B 199n4 adart iii No. -144 162n45, 163n53, 203n19, 254n58, 259n79, 274–275, 295n9, 296n11 adart iii No. -143A 259n79 adart iii No. -141C 163n50 adart iii No. -140A 163n48, 164, 199n4, 250n47, 254n58, 276–278, 295n9 adart iii No. -140C 199n4, 259n79, 278–279, 296n11 adart iii No. -137A 199n4, 201n19, 259n79, 277 adart iii No. -137B 259n79 adart iii No. -137C 199n4, 259n79 adart iii No. -137D 199n4, 202n14, 226n50, 228n58, 254n58, 259n79 adart iii No. -136B 88n32, 259n76 adart iii No. -136C 64n39, 254n58, 294n3, 295n10 adart iii No. -136B 250n47 adart iii No. -134B 295n8 adart iii No. -133 63, 162n45, 199n4, 254, 254n58 adart iii No. -132A 163–164, 254n58 adart iii No. -132B 163–165, 180–183, 199n4, 201n11, 222n36, 250n47, 280–285, 295n8, 298n25

309 adart iii No. -132C 163–164, 184–185 adart iii No. -132D 163–164, 173, 250n47, 254n58, 259n79, 295n8 adart iii No. -131 64n39 adart iii No. -130B 295n10 adart iii No. -129 162n46, 199n4, 247n37, 250n47, 254n58, 294n3, 295n8 adart iii No. -126 163n49, 254n58, 259n78 adart iii No. -125A 199n4, 295n10, 303n55 adart iii No. -125B 2, 64n39 adart iii No. -124A 2, 63n39, 199n4, 250n47, 254n58, 272n15, 285–286, 295n8 adart iii No. -124B 199n4, 202n13, 259n79, 287, 290, 295n8 adart iii No. -122 64n39 adart iii No. -122D 64n39 adart iii No. -119C 295n8 adart iii No. -118A 199n4, 202n16, 250n47, 251, 286n48, 295n8, 302n48 adart iii No. -118B 295n9 adart iii No. -112 199n4 adart iii No. -111A 302n46, 303n52 adart iii No. -111B 199n4, 254n58, 286n48, 302n46 adart iii No. -111C 302n49 adart iii No. -109A 199n4 adart iii No. -109B 199n4 adart iii No. -108A 295n10 adart iii No. -108B 286n48 adart iii No. -107C 162n45, 163n54, 222n37, 254n58, 302n46, 303n53 adart iii No. -107D 64n39, 81n9, 101n92, 301n44 adart iii No. -105 64n39–40, 163n54, 201n11, 222n36, 226n50, 228n56, 254n58 adart iii No. -99B 302n46, 303n52 adart iii No. -99C 80 adart iii No. -95A 302n46, 303n52 adart iii No. -90 64n39, 298n25, 302n46, 303n54 adart iii No. -88B 3n9 adart iii No. -87A 3n9, 254n58, 294n3 adart iii No. -87C 3n9, 302n46 adart iii No. -86A 199n4, 302n46, 303n54 adart iii No. -86B 3n9, 201n11, 222n36, 254n58 adart iii No. -85A 3n9

310 adart iii No. -83 3n9, 302n46 adart iii No. -82A 3n9, 295n8 adart iii No. -82B 254n58, 295n10, 302n46, 303n54 adart iii No. -77 64n39, 162n46, 202n15, 254n58, 259n79, 294n3, 295n9, 295n10 adart iii No. -72 295n10, 302n46 adart iii No. -62 79, 81n8, 295n10 adart V No. 1 27, 28, 37, 38n29, 46 adart V No. 2 28, 36–37 adart V No. 3 28, 36–37, 127n36 adart V No. 4 28, 36–37, 73, 127n36 adart V No. 5 46–48, 127n36 adart V No. 6 22n6, 28, 46, 127n36 adart V No. 7 47, 127n36 adart V No. 8 127n36 adart V No. 11 22n7 adart V No. 39 193 adart V No. 34 34, 41–42 adart V No. 43 62 adart V No. 49 46 adart V No. 52 46 adart V No. 58 70n58 adart V No. 63 136n76 Akītu Chronicle see abc No. 16 Antiochus Cylinder 244n28 ao 17661 136n77 ao 17662 136n77 Appian, Civil Wars 240n11 Appian, Syrica 261n85 Arrian, Anabasis 11n46, 238n5, 240n10 Assurbanipal, Annals 5n18 Atrahasis 5n20 bchp 3 107, 244n28, 245n29 bchp 4 80 bchp 5 108–109, 193, 244n28 bchp 6 193, 244n28 bchp 7 193, 244n28 bchp 8 109, 193, 244n28 bchp 9 193, 244n28 bchp 10 9n39, 109n117 bchp 11 96n76, 99n82, 109 bchp 12 108–109, 242n22

Index of Sources bchp 13 295n10, 297 bchp 14 107, 295n9, 296–297 bchp 15 9n39, 96n76, 109n117, 110n121, 193, 295n9 bchp 17 107, 110 bchp 18ab 80, 99, 295, 295n8, 298–299, 303n57 bchp 18C 80, 108, 295n9 bchp 19 247n37 bchp 20 107 Berossus, Babyloniaca 259n75, 271 bl 1217 172n92 bm 32211 65n46 bm 32339+ 60n29 bm 32557 65n46 bm 34434 296n10 bm 35045+ 54 bm 35269+ 294–295, 300–304 bm 35325 65n46 bm 35769 296n10 bm 56647 70n60 bm 38414 29 bm 41004 60n26 bm 42282+ 60n25 bm 45426 32, 46 bm 45728 60n25 bm 47447 66n49 bm 47464 66n49 bm 47494 65–68, 71 bm 47529+ 66n49 bm 47938 66n49 bm 76488 70n59 bm 76738+ 32, 46 bor 4 132 228 Borsippa Cylinder 224, 261n85 Cato, Origines 98 ch xxvii 5n18 ct 49, 144 228 Curtius Rufus 238, 240n11 Diodorus 238n5, 240n11 Enūma Anu Enlil 4n17, 2n44, 53–54, 56–58, 68, 121, 126, 139–140, 145, 194, 203, 226, 240n10

311

Index of Sources Enūma eliš 6n28, 160 flp 1480 136 Great Star List 67 Hofkalender 128 hsm 1899.2.112 30, 31, 32 Iqqur īpuš 53, 121 Justin 238n5, 240n10 lbat 841 298 Lucian, De Dea Syria 261n85 Lucian, Icaromenippus 261n85 Market Price Chronicle see abc No. 23 N.2349 46 Nabonidus Chronicle see abc No. 7 Ni 1856 57n17 Pausanius 258, 270n6 Pliny, Natural History 240n10, 270n6 Plutarch, Alexander 11n46, 238n5, 240n10 Plutarch, Life of Demetrius 261 Ptolemy, Almagest 34–35 Ptolemy, Geography 205n21

Religious Chronicle see abc No. 17 saa 10, 42 225n47, 226n49 saa 10, 69 222n47, 226n49 Sakikkû 136 Saros Tablet see adart V No. 34 seg 7, 39 297 seg 48, 785 299, 303n57 Sptu 1, 94 65, 68–69, 71, 72n63 Sptu 4, 161 65n46 Sptu 5, 283 218n32 Sptu 5, 284 218n32 Strabo 270n6, 303n57 Šumma ālu 53, 223, 225–226 Šumma izbu 164, 172–173, 224 Šumma Sîn ina tāmartīšu 53, 57n15, 67 tcl 6, 11 60n25, 65n46, 70n60 tcl 6, 13 66n53 tcl 6, 16 218n32 tcl 6, 19 70n60 tcl 6, 20 70 vat 4985 188 vat 7827 218n32 W 22797 32, 46 W 23009 32, 46 Weidner Chronicle 161 ybc 11549 133

Index of Names and Subjects Absummu 135 Adad-šumu-uṣur 126 akītu 137, 160, 162, 224–225, 230, 242, 253, 271, 286 Akkad 67, 204 Akkullānu 127 Almanacs 73 Alexander 10–12, 81, 86n19, 92–93, 122, 137, 199, 203, 207, 212, 218, 238, 240–242, 270, 296 Amurru 67 Antigonus 81, 92 Antioch 207, 210, 213 Antiochus i 83, 110, 201, 207, 244n28, 257, 260, 261n86 Antiochus ii 86n19, 260, 261n86 Antiochus iii 87, 91, 95n68, 104n101, 162, 173, 224, 237–238, 242–244, 252, 271, 290, 297–298–299 Antiochus iv 95, 99, 102, 107n112, 173, 207, 224, 248, 269–270, 274, 297–298 Antiochus v 193 Anu-aba-utēr 140 Anu-aḫa-ušabši 140 Anu-uballiṭ 140 Aplāya 127 Arab 85, 89, 93n59, 94, 104, 107n111, 109, 164, 221, 286, 290 Arad-Marduk 132 Ardaya 162n45 Armenia 89n35, 96n74 Arqania 278–279 Arsaces 97, 99, 103n97, 104–107, 164, 213, 260, 278, 287 Artaxerxes i 44, 135, 255 Artaxerses ii 58, 134, 188, 207, 241, 246, 249, 256–257 Artaxerxes iii 62, 66, 108n112, 109n19, 193 āšipu 123–124, 126–128, 130, 133, 135–136, 140, 145 Ashurbanipal 123, 127, 168 Aspasine 87, 93, 98, 105–106, 260n81 Assur 127 Assyria 89n35, 93, 120–121, 123, 125, 127–129, 146, 169–170, 203, 256n68 ašû 125

Babylon 1, 5, 8, 11, 35, 73, 80, 85–88, 90, 92–93, 102–108, 110–111, 120–123, 126–127, 129, 131–132, 135, 137–139, 141–142, 144, 154, 156–167, 170, 173–174, 188, 193, 198–202, 204, 213, 218, 222–224, 226, 228, 231, 237–238, 240–241, 244–246, 249–250, 252–256, 260–262, 269–270, 273, 275, 277, 279, 282, 285–291, 294–298, 304 Bactria 207, 221, 259, 273 bārû 128 Balāssu 124 Bēl-aḫḫē-uṣur 142–143 Bēl-bullissu 143 Bēl-apla-iddin 134, 138–139 Bēl-ēṭir 124 Bēl-šimânni 188 Bēlšunu 143 Bēl-ušēzib 171 Bēl-uṣuršu 134, 142 Berossus 34, 110–111, 244n27, 275, 277n27 Borsippa 8, 87, 90, 94n59, 101–102, 105, 110–111, 123, 125, 127, 156, 160, 163–165, 170, 173, 188, 201, 216, 222, 280, 286 Characene 142, 270, 288 chronicle 6, 8–9, 13, 21, 33, 38–41, 49, 73, 83, 107–111, 156, 173n98, 188, 271, 294, 297 citizens 92, 106–107, 294–300, 303–304 colophon 120, 136, 141 commodities 5, 9 compilation 21–22, 26–27, 29–30, 36, 38, 46, 48–49, 122, 135 council of elders 294–295, 298–301, 303–304 Ctesiphon 216 Cutha 87, 90, 105, 123, 156, 216 Cyrus 111, 155, 237 Darius 10–12, 93, 135, 188, 203, 240–241, 257 Demetrius 99–100, 102, 104, 272, 274–275, 290 Dilbat 123 disease 81 Eanna 128–132, 134–136, 145 earthquake 81 Ebabbar 129–130

313

Index of Names and Subjects eclipse 4, 23, 41–42, 48, 59, 64, 68, 134, 198 lunar 2, 10–11, 22–23, 27–29, 33, 35–38, 47, 57, 73, 93, 127–128, 131–132, 240 solar 2, 3, 22–23, 27 Egibatila 143, 145 Egypt 102, 124, 198, 203, 207, 210, 213, 258, 273–275, 290 Ekur-zākir 68, 139–140, 145 Elam 67, 89, 93–94, 98, 100n88, 102, 109, 125, 164, 198, 204, 207, 213, 218, 221, 256, 259–260, 269–270, 279, 288–291 Ellil-Bēlšunu 135–136 equinox 2, 34, 46, 59 Esagila 87, 91–92, 94–95, 100, 103n96, 104, 109, 126–127, 129, 133–134, 137, 141, 145, 160, 187, 194–195, 224–225, 228, 230, 242, 244, 246–249, 253, 277, 296 Esarhaddon 42, 123–126, 168, 171–172 Etemenanki 132, 228, 231 Ēṭiru 66 Euphrates 1, 5, 101n91, 158, 202, 207, 256n67, 301 Ezida 102, 126, 160, 165, 201, 222 fall of fire 12, 81, 88, 225–227 famine 53, 88 Gabbu-ilāni-ēreš 126 Gaugamela 11–12, 92–94, 102, 201–202, 238, 240 Goal Year methods 59, 61, 64, 69–71, 73n67 Goal Year Texts 19n1, 73 Gutium 11, 89n34, 96, 99, 106, 201–205, 222, 250, 256, 259 haloes 44, 46 Hammurabi 73, 160 Hana 207 Hanaeans 94 Hanigalbat 96 Harran 124, 126, 172 harvest 53 Hipparchus 35–36 Ḫirītu 40 Ḫišalla 90 horoscope 6–7, 122 Hyrcania 89n35 Hyspaonsines 142, 281, 287–288, 289n53

Iddin-Bēl 58, 139, 143 Iddin-Enlil 131 Iprāya 66 Iqīšâ 68, 138 Issar-šumu-ēreš 124–126 Ištar 134 Itti-Marduk-balāṭu 142–143 Jupiter 2, 23, 30, 37n29, 54–56, 59, 68, 71 Kalhu 124, 126 kalû 124, 126, 120, 131–133, 140, 143–145 Kamnaškiri 100 Kar-Aššur 90, 216, 294, 300, 304 Kush 203 Lābaši 142 Laodice 86n20, 95n65, 261n86 Larsa 130–131 locusts 81, 88, 158 Lunar Six 2, 22–23, 27, 29, 46–47, 59, 60n28, 62, 63, 68 Macedon 94n62, 207, 221, 245n29, 259, 270, 297–299 Marad 90, 103 Marduk 132, 160–161, 165, 242, 244, 286, 296 Marduk-ēṭir 98 Marduk-šāpik-zēri 125, 142 Mari 168–170 market 5, 19, 46, 48, 53–74, 199n7 Mars 2, 30, 32, 37n29, 59, 64, 68, 70n58, 71 Media 11, 89, 91, 96, 105n108, 207, 213, 221, 259, 277 Meluhha 96, 99n85, 203, 210, 258n73 Mercury 30, 37n29, 59, 138 Mesene 102, 216, 218, 259, 260n81, 270, 288 Mithradates 141, 164, 244n30, 254, 302–303 Murānu 142–143 Mušallim-Bēl 58, 138 Mušēzib 138–139, 144–145, 187n4 Nabonassar 13, 27, 28, 33–34, 36–37, 39–43 Nabonidus 40, 110, 128–129, 132, 145, 224 Nabopolassar 27, 40, 47–48, 122, 132 Nabû 127, 160, 166, 286n45 Nabû-mušētiq-uddē 143 Nabû-rēḫtu-uṣur 172 Nabû-šumu-iškun 73 Nabû-uballissu 134

314 Nabû-zēru-lēšir 126 Nādin-aḫḫē 124 Nādinu 127 Nanāya 102, 154–155, 157, 164–166, 171–172, 221n24 Nanna-utu 143–145 Nebuchadnezzar ii 13, 27–29, 31, 33, 40–41, 44–46, 48–49, 110, 128–129, 135, 244, 258n75, 274–275 Nergal-ina-tēšê-ēṭir 139 Neriglissar 40 Nineveh 122, 124, 168–169 Ninurta-aḫḫē-bulliṭ Ninurta-Nāṣir 136 Nippur 90, 122, 134–136, 140, 216 Normal Star Almanacs 19n1, 73 Normal Stars 2, 5, 31n14, 46, 59–60, 69–70 observation 1–4, 6–8, 26–27, 30–32, 34–37, 43–44, 46–49, 59, 70, 85, 120–121, 123, 126–127, 130–132, 135–136, 138–139, 158, 222 omen 53–55, 57, 61, 65–68, 71, 81, 88, 96, 99, 135, 158, 169, 204, 223–224, 227, 288 Opis 111 Orodes 162n45 pāḫātū 86, 95, 106 Pallukatu canal 90 panic 81, 93–94 Parthian 64 Philip Arrhidaeus 68, 138 Piqudu canal 90 plague 53 planetary phenomena acronychal rising 2, 30–33, 59 first appearance 2, 4, 30–33, 38, 59, 69 last appearance 2, 4, 30–33, 38, 59, 69 station 2, 30–33, 59, 69 prebend 129, 131–133, 140, 142, 144 Preliminary Diary 2, 5–6, 19n1, 64–65, 80, 186–187 prediction 4–5, 9, 32, 37 professions 123–124, 126, 136 Ptolemy 21, 33–36 Razaundu 205 ritual 81, 86, 121, 128, 131, 135, 163, 223 river level 5, 19, 47–48, 64, 80n8, 85, 88, 301

Index of Names and Subjects Salamis 207 Šamaš-erība 188 Šamaš-ēṭir 140 Šamaš-šumu-ukīn 31, 39–40, 42, 46, 125 Šamaš-tabni-uṣur 132 Šangu-Ninurta 135, 139 šatammu 86–87, 91–92, 95, 98–99, 106, 127, 132, 137, 253, 296 Sardis 89n35, 97, 105, 202, 204, 207, 210, 248, 260, 261n86 Sargon ii 122 Saros 41–42 satrap 95, 105, 162n45, 199, 245n29, 254, 272n15 Saturn 2, 30, 32, 37n29, 59n24, 60, 68, 72 Sealand 102, 216 Seleucia 8, 89–90, 94, 108–109, 137, 164, 201–202, 213, 216, 218, 270, 273, 277, 279, 294, 299–300, 304 Seleucus i 41, 92, 137, 193, 270 Seleucus iii 83, 109n119, 242 Seleucus iv 245, 261n86 Short Diary 2, 5–6, 19n1, 44, 64–65, 300 Sîn-lēqi-unninni 131, 140, 145 Sippar 90, 110–110, 129, 216, 240 Sirius 2, 59 solstice 2, 46, 59 Standard Diary 2, 5, 58, 187, 300 Stratonice 82n12, 86n20, 260, 261n85 Subartu 67, 87, 96, 98, 162n45, 204 Šumāya 126 Šum-iddin 127 Suru canal 90 Susa 201, 205, 247, 255 Syncellus 34 Syria 207, 259, 272n13, 273 Tattannu 96, 247 temple 8, 14, 68, 81, 86–87, 96, 108, 110, 121, 127–133, 135, 142, 144, 155–157, 159, 161–163, 166, 202, 222–223, 231, 240, 242, 244, 285 Tigris 89, 93, 105n108, 202, 216, 256n67, 281–282, 291 title 44–46, 48 Transeuphratene 102 Transpotamia 103n98

315

Index of Names and Subjects ṭupšar Enūma Anu Enlil 121, 123–126, 130, 132–133, 138, 140, 142–145, 154, 228 Tyre 207 Uballissu-Bēl 134 ummânu 124, 129n46 uprising 53 Ur 123 Urad-Ea 126 Uruk 8, 44, 68, 70, 80, 90, 99, 122–123, 128–132, 134–137, 139–141, 143, 145, 156, 162, 216, 218, 222n35

Venus 23, 30, 37n29, 59, 64, 68, 138 weather 3–4, 27, 32, 70–71, 73n67, 81, 82n12, 85, 88, 109 Xerxes 73, 122, 134–135, 137, 188, 228 Zākir 127 Zēr-kitti-lēšir 136 zodiac 6, 34, 58–59, 65–69, 158, 198