Magic and Medicine in the Ancient Near East

 This paper originally written as a discussion paper with informal citation.

ASH-3200:  Ancient Near Eastern Societies

Dr. Tiffany Earley-Spadoni

University of Central Florida    

Nergal of Larsa

Magic and Medicine in the Ancient Near East

For the people of the ancient Near East, the use of magic and medicine may not have been considered separate fields to be used exclusive of each other.  In fact, evidence suggests that the two were likely intermingled to such a degree that it would be impossible to conduct “healing” without both interacting together.  While the details of the form and purpose of magic may have varied from culture to culture or across time periods, the use of magic as a primary component of “medicine” is evidenced in both ancient Mesopotamia and ancient Egypt.  Magic for the people of the ancient near east was not only often used as a complementary therapy of medicine but was also employed as a necessary component of medicine.

            In ancient Mesopotamia, the concept of healing often combined the practical with the mystical (E-S, Healing).  There could be many causes of illness and harm, and many of these were collected together into books of therapy.  One such was the Surpu (Akkadian for “burning”).  This text described a number of conditions and the related ritual spells to be performed to rid the patient of the undesired harm (E-S, Healing).  There were many things that could bring about illness, disease, or misfortune.  Across the region we can find evidence of magic used to reverse common illnesses, witchcraft, and epidemics.  All forms of ritual healing involved some basic formulaic components:  a description of symptoms, a diagnosis of cause, a ritual incantation, a ritual action(s), and often an appeal to a higher power (Schwemer, Witchcraft).  Illness or harm was often not considered just a “physical” problem. There usually was a dual component of the physical along with the spiritual or supernatural, whether that be divine, demonic, or witchcraft.  Therefore, healing necessarily included, as Earley-Spadoni indicated earlier, both the practical and the mystical.  Sometimes the divine could be responsible for harm, as in the case of the Hittite definition of epidemics, called the “devouring of God” found in the Mari letters (Attia, Epidemics).  At other times, the demonic or spirits could be the culprit, as well as spells cast by witches or warlocks.  Common to the healing component in both Mesopotamia and Egypt were the use of spells (incantations) along with a physical relic of some sort:  figurines, images, statues, stela, symbols, and, especially in Egypt, names, and amulets.

            The belief in supernatural and magical forces in ancient Egypt often involved the divine both in cause and solution more than it did in Mesopotamia.  It goes to say that those solutions to illness likewise entered more into the realm of the gods and goddesses.  However, the magical formulation of spells and actions were often very similar between the two.  Like the Mesopotamians, the Egyptian ritual formula for healing included the description of symptoms, diagnosis of cause, ritual incantations and actions, and appeal to a higher power.  In Egypt, magic, heka, was one of the main forces used in the creation of the world (Pinch, Magic).  Priests were the main practitioners of magic and Sekhmet, the goddess of plague, was also the primary deity of healing.  Lector priests were the considered the highest users of magic, then, in descending primacy, came the scorpion-charmers, midwives and nurses, and “wise women” (Pinch, Magic).  There was a strong sense in Egyptian ritual magic of the power contained in the word.  So much so that not only was there power in the spoken spell or incantation, but also the written word.  Often, protective or healing spells were written into amulets that were worn or written onto papyrus which were folded and worn, both for protection and healing.  In addition to the standard ritual magic and protection spells, were the use of stela to transmit healing power.  This was often found on a cippus, or stela with the image of the infant god Horus.  Upon the stela were written various healing spells.  Water was poured over the stela and drunk by the patient.  It was believed that the patient was then imbued with the healing power of the spell (Pinch, Magic).  Other practices related to healing in ancient Egypt included the use of oracles, especially in relation to the god Amenophis (McDowell, Religion, pg. 93), and the importance of household cults dedicated to deceased ancestors, as evidenced in the worker’s community at Deir el-Medina (McDowell, Religion, pg.104).  Both of these were important components related to healing.  The use of oracles was often employed to find out the cause of misfortune.  And it was not uncommon for the living to ask dead relatives to implore the gods for their intervention. 

            As we can see, magic was a common and important component of life and healing in the ancient world.  As Tzvi Abusch implies in The Witchcraft Series:  Maqlu, in both Mesopotamia and Egypt, magic was a “legitimate enterprise as part of state religion” as well as accepted culture.  She goes on to specify that while there was those who practiced “black magic,” these were generally prohibited.  A telling indicator of something that was “missing” from the Mari archives, as noted by Attia in Epidemics in Mesopotamia, is the conspicuous lack of request for doctors.  Instead, in epidemics and other illnesses, what was requested was exorcists and divinators.  The use of magic in the ancient Near East was not only a primary component of healing, but I would also argue an indistinguishable part of medicine.  The people of this time would not have separated magic from medicine as two distinct fields.

Tacitus' Germania: A Critique of Roman Society?

 

 

Tacitus’ Germania: A Critique of Roman Society?

 

 

 

 

 

 

John C. Haynes

EUH-4413: History of the Roman Empire

Dr. Edward Dandrow

July 10, 2021

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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            In Tacitus’ book Germania, the Roman senator and prolific writer gives us a sweeping account of the various Germanic tribes that existed in central Europe north and east of the Roman empire.  Tacitus lists each tribe that the Romans have encountered and gives details about their lives:  the political structure, their social structure, how they dressed, what they ate, how they waged war, and how they cared for their families.  While there are a few aspects of Germanic life that Tacitus views negatively, for the most part he seems to have a mostly favorable view of these tribes.  We could also argue that in summarizing different cultural attributes of the Germanic tribes, Tacitus is also making indirect references to Roman life.  In this paper, I will be reviewing those areas where the Roman senator employs language that appears to critique Roman society in his approval of Germanic society.

            In the year 98 CE, Publius Cornelius Tacitus wrote De origine et situ Germanorum (On the Origin and Location of the Germani), most commonly referred to as Germania.  He begins his work with a general description of the boundaries of the Germanic tribes and some of the commonalities of Germanic society.  The latter part of this work is dedicated to focusing on individual tribes and their specific traits.  One key note to understanding Tacitus’ mindset while reading Germania is shared in the Introduction to the translation used in this writing.  In his Introduction, J.B. Rives believes that Tacitus views the Germani as a “noble savage.”[1]  He remarks at how their society finds little value in many of the things the Romans hold in such high prestige.  He does negatively view some aspects of German society.  For example, as a general observation, Tacitus states that when not at war, the Germans dedicate their time only to eating and sleeping.[2]  In the tribe of the Sitones, Tacitus is extremely reproachful of the fact that they are ruled by a woman.  He views this as a decline in their society.[3]

            Besides some negative views, Tacitus seems to have a rather positive outlook of the Germani, as a whole and of individual tribes.  He remarks that the tribes generally have no lust

 

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for gold or silver and are remarkable for their bravery in battle.[4]  However, there are some traits of Germanic culture which Tacitus appears to be extremely fond of, and it appears that when speaking of these, he is also critiquing the opposite of behaviors found in the Roman Empire.  Specifically, these relate to their customs of marriage and marital ethics.  Tacitus relates a set of strict marriage rules that create a healthy marriage bond.  In particular, the men of the Germanic tribes are, according to Tacitus, satisfied with one wife each, and pointedly states that “no feature of their culture deserves higher praise.”[5]  Indeed, in war the men do whatever they can to protect their women and children.  We could contrast this with the lower status wives and children seem to play in Roman politics, especially with the jostling of heirs and political rivalry where it was not uncommon for wives and previous wives, children, and stepchildren to be executed if only to secure a line to political power. 

            And in choosing leaders, the Germanic peoples would come together within their respective tribes, related as they were by kinship, into councils, and choose their leaders based on prowess and ability.[6]  After choosing a leader, he would surround himself with advisors from the tribe and the leader would take heed of the counsel given.  All decisions and gatherings were done under arms, and challenges and disagreements were often settled by armed duel between the parties.[7]  Tacitus may well be reflecting on the internal intrigues of political life in Rome, with secret liaisons and alliances.  Changes in political roles decided as often by assassination as by open discussion and vote.  While Tacitus, in Germania, does not overtly contrast society in the German tribes with Roman society, and while he does not openly speak negatively on any aspect of Roman society, he does give such high praise to certain values of the Germani, that any reader of this work would immediately call to mind the darker counterparts to those same circumstances played out in the Roman Empire.  And perhaps that was Tacitus’ intent all along.

 

 

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Bibliography

 

Tacitus.  Germania.  Translated by Harold Mattingly.  London: Penguin Books, 1999.

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[1] Tacitus, Germania, Introduction, xl

[2] Tacitus, Germania, part 15

[3] Ibid, part 45

[4] Ibid, parts 5 and 6

[5] Tacitus, Germania, part 18

[6] Ibid, part 7

[7] Ibid, parts 7 and 12

The Afterlife in Ancient Mesopotamia

 This paper originally written as a discussion paper with informal citation.

ASH-3200:  Ancient Near Eastern Societies

Dr. Tiffany Early-Spadoni

University of Central Florida

Atrahasis

The Afterlife in Ancient Mesopotamia

            The specifics of ancient Mesopotamians’ beliefs in the afterlife come down to us, not necessarily as direct texts that relate those ideas, but rather through analysis of various myths and their accompanying revisions and alternate versions, examples of which include the famed Epic of Gilgamesh and the Old Babylonian flood story, Atrahasis.  Similar to a few later cultures, the afterlife is often depicted as a dreary existence overall, though as we shall see, there were those who could experience joy.  However, there does not seem to have been a concept of obtaining a “heavenly reward” or “union with a god” type of existence after death.  Rather, the Mesopotamian afterlife seems to be more akin to the Greek idea of a bleak and rather unexciting eternity. 

            Ancient Mesopotamians did believe in the concept of a “soul,” or that part of an individual which continued after death.  As Joann Scurlock points out in Mortal and Immortal Souls, Ghosts and the (Restless) Dead in Ancient Mesopotamia, since the beginning of their written culture, these people expressed a belief in an immortal component to the human being (Scurlock, pg. 77).  She goes on to point out that in the Atrahasis, the so-called Babylonian flood story, man was created by a mixing of mundane clay with the flesh of the immortal gods, thereby creating an eoemmu for each person from the god’s flesh. (Scurlock, pg. 77).  Scurlock ascribes characteristics of this eoemmu as having similarities to our modern concept of a ghost.  Although, as she points out, there were several different types of ghosts, dependent upon different situations.  The Atrahasis gives two functions of the eoemmu:  to plead for the individual before the gods, and so that people will not forget the individual.

            Scurlock goes on to describe different customs and rituals that were used to keep the spirits appeased as well as different types of spirits that could form.  She points out that in the afterlife, the dead continued to feel hunger and thirst and were unable to satiate these desires on their own.  It was the responsibility of the family or temples to provide funerary offerings, lest the spirit become restless.  In addition to these food offerings, after death, the eoemmu was ritually removed from the body and placed within a lamp or statue, then transported to the burial place, which often was a tomb beneath the family dwelling.  If the spirit was not disturbed and offerings were provided after death, the dead could enjoy a restful, albeit gray and uneventful afterlife in the Netherworld.  There were other types of ghosts who did not enjoy rest after death, and these include the lilu, spirits of young men or women who never had the opportunity to get married, have sex, and birth children.  In their restlessness, they preyed upon young men and women of the opposite sex, often leading them to madness or even death (Scurlock, pg. 79).  Another restless spirit was the kubu.  Considered demons, they were the spirits of children dying before birth or very soon after birth.  They attacked infants and very young children.  These types of spirits were not given funerary offerings and were buried either in the walls of houses or in special cemeteries.  Their needs provided for by temples specifically designed for that purpose (Scurlock, pg. 79).  At various seasons throughout the year, festivals for the dead were held where families could provide offerings for the spirits, they could commune with the spirits, and cultic rituals were held to ensure that continuing rest of those who had already passed. 

            Similar to other beliefs, the Mesopotamian netherworld was conceived of as being obtainable only by a journey through gates.  In the Middle Babylonian Myth of Nergal and Ereshkigal, the netherworld is seen as being ruled over by Ereshkigal, goddess of the underworld.  Due to natural law, gods are not able to freely pass into and out of the netherworld, only messengers, and then only by ascribing to certain requirements.  At each gate, the keeper of the gate takes one item of apparel or equipment from the traveler.  The dead are held in the netherworld and cannot pass except by the release of Ereshkigal, which could happen on certain season days as described above, or if she desired to out of anger.  Ereshkigal, in anger, threatens to release the dead so that in their hunger they would feed on all the living (Gurney, Myth tablet, Col. V, lines 11-12).  When a messenger visits the netherworld, there are also a set of instructions given that should be followed.  In the Myth of Nergal and Ereshkigal, Nergal goes to visit the underworld.  He is given several instructions including not to eat of the food offered, not to drink of the drink that is offered, and not to bathe in the bath offered (Gurney, Myth tablet, Col II, lines 39-48).  Nergal is also instructed, that when Ereshkigal goes to take a bath and exposes her body, “do not life your eyes toward her in the manner of a man and woman” (Gurney, Myth tablet, Col. II, lines 46-48).  Nergal fulfills all the instructions except the last, and after lifting his eyes to see the unclothed Ereshkigal, they come into an embrace and spend six days in the bedchamber together. 

            These are not the only instructions we have regarding travelling to the netherworld.  In the various versions of the epic stories of Gilgamesh, we find Enkidu preparing to travel to the underworld to obtain items which fallen into the realm of the dead.  Gilgamesh prepares Enkidu by advising him not to wear clean garments, as he would be immediately recognized as being from another place; not to put on fine oil, as the spirits would surround the scent; not to throw sticks, for if any stick should strike a spirit, they would surround him; and not to hold a wooden stick, lest the spirits be insulted (Gilgamesh, version A, lines 184-198).  Enkidu is also given further instructions on things he should not do prior to leaving for his journey.  However, Enkidu somehow manages to do the exact opposite.  Prior to leaving, he does every item that he is warned not to do and upon traveling in the Netherworld, he again performs every act that Gilgamesh strictly forbid.  Enkidu is thus restrained in the Netherworld, but through the help of the gods, Gilgamesh is able to free him.  Upon being freed, and rejoining Gilgamesh, Enkidu is asked if he has seen several different peoples while in the underworld and how they are doing.  Sure enough, Enkidu has seen most of these spirits and most are described as simply being there, wiling away their time.  Some have an unenviable afterlife, like the leprous man who “twitches like an ox as the worms eat at him” (Gilgamesh, version A, lines 286-303).  And others have a better afterlife, such as the man with six sons who is as cheerful as a ploughman.  It seems that the afterlife for Mesopotamians is often a mundane continuation of the earthly life. 

International Cooperation During the Amarna Period

 This paper originally written as a discussion paper with informal citation.

ASH-3200:  Ancient Near Eastern Societies

Dr. Tiffany Early-Spadoni

University of Central Florida

Near East During the Amarna Period

International Cooperation During the Amarna Period

                The Late Bronze Age in the Near East was marked by a period of international cooperation between the great superpowers of the region that had not been seen before.  The era is often referred to as the Amarna Period because much of what we know regarding diplomacy between these kingdoms come from the archive at El-Amarna that included the correspondence of Pharaohs Amenhotep III and his son Akhenaten.  These letters reveal exchanges between the Egyptian rulers and their counterparts in the other great kingdoms of the Near East, Babylonians, Hittites, Assyrians, as well as the smaller vassal kingdoms of Palestine and Syria.  The other great archive of the period is from the city of Mari (modern Tell Hariri in Syria).  Both archives reveal the development of a complex system of diplomatic protocols (Sasson, Mari).  This system gradually developed out of the Middle Bronze Age and took over a thousand years to develop to the form we see in the Late Bronze Age (Podany, pg. 11).  Sasson and Podany both relate the formation of treaties and treaty ratification procedures that included a significant volume of correspondence between kingdoms as well as vast numbers of messengers, couriers, and diplomats to make the whole system work (Sasson, Mari and Podany, pg. 14).  What this correspondence informs the modern scholar is of the development of cooperation and peace during Late Bronze Age that was not possible beforehand. 

            If we examine some of the Amarna letters, we can see that there was a stylized form of greeting almost universal to all of them that can seem puzzling.  One king would great another as “my brother” and speak warmly of their friendship and their love (see esp. Amarna Letter EA1).  It can seem overflowing with a real depth of emotion to the modern reader.  The greetings continue into customary inquiries about the health and well-being of the receiving ruler’s family, people, and land.  It quickly becomes apparent, as all the kings across most of the correspondence use this same format, that this was less likely a deep personal connection so much as a format that had developed as considered proper.  The letters themselves reveal a period that was seemingly free from war between the parties, and archaeological evidence seems to corroborate this picture.  What would cause this level of non-conflict and agreement?  The evidence mostly indicates that the Middle Bronze Age did not enjoy these same conditions, but as stated before, there was likely a move towards them.  Podany indicates that certain events in the 16^th and 15^th centuries BCE allowed for this significant shift in international affairs.  She points to the rise of the Hittites and their subsequent attacks into Syria during the early 16^th century and the attacks by Egypt into Syria in the 15^th century (Podany, pg. 15).  Certainly, both events would be crucial to understanding later actions by subsequent rulers, of which I will return to later. 

            Do the letters we possess indicate that there was a true spirit of fraternity across the Near East, characterized by feelings of concern for one another or does the evidence reveal an undercurrent of ulterior motives?  The latter probably the case.  It is more likely that the treaties formed were not to achieve an end result of peace and tranquility for their intrinsic sake, but rather out of “self-interest and expediency” (Bryce, pg. 1).  These rulers likely distrusted each other to a great degree and their correspondence reveals a constant bickering and sometime outright anger between them.  Bryce suggests that the correspondence and courtiers were all attempts at skillful political maneuvering.  Indeed, even today that is what diplomacy often is.  Diplomacy is seldom out of good intentions for the well-being of the other, but to gain the best position for one nation short of going to war with another.  In reading several of the Amarna letters, it becomes apparent that rulers on both sides were often angry with the other for both real and imagined slights.  In Amarna Letter EA4, Kadashman-Enlil I of Babylonia is upset that Amenhotep III has denied him one of the Pharaoh’s daughters for marriage.  He also desires gold from Egypt and promises one of his daughters in return.  In Amarna Letter EA16, Ashur-uballit I of Assyria also requests gold from the Pharaoh Akhenaten.  The Assyrian king is upset because previous Pharaohs had sent 20 talents of gold each, but Akhenaten has only sent one.  He also demands that his messengers be kept out of the sun because they are dying of sunburn.  In some of the letters, it is apparent that the composing ruler is quite testy! 

            In the final analysis, can we say that the level of cooperation achieved during the Amarna period was a result only of self-interest?  Perhaps, perhaps not.  It is likely the true answer may be somewhere in between.  There are a few points to consider when analyzing this situation.  Bryce sees the international cooperation as out of necessity for each kingdom’s best interest.  He points out that King Hattusili III, in requesting a peace treaty be drawn up with Ramses II, 15 years after the Battle of Qadesh is likely due to 2 things:  Hattusili, who had stolen the throne from his nephew, desperately needed someone, anyone, to give legitimacy to his reign.  Drawing up a peace treaty with Ramses would certainly do the trick (Bryce, pg. 6).  And secondly, Hattusili desperately needed to maintain a status quo in the region as much of his resources were busy dealing with attacks from Myceneans in the west, attacks from Kaskans in the north, and the rising Assyrian empire in the east (Bryce, pg. 3).    Certainly, he along with the other empires, realized that the best interest in international trade lie in avoiding costly war and keeping the trade routes open and safe.  And, perhaps, there may have likely been a true feeling of “kinship” amongst some of the rulers.  An interesting read is Amarna Letter EA7, from Babylonian king Burra-buriash to Amenhotep III where he relays that he has been in ill health and seems genuinely offended that the Egyptian pharaoh has not inquired more often into his well-being.  Upon confirming with Egyptian and Babylonian envoys, he realizes that distance between the two nations is quite far and the journey quite long, and so he dismisses his anger with Amenhotep (Amarna Letter EA7).  And perhaps culture and religion, with their corresponding views of right and wrong could likely have played a role to some degree.  In her article “Peace in Ancient Egypt,” Vanessa Davies takes the reader on a complex journey to understand the notion of “peace” in ancient Egypt.  The concept of hetep (h-t-p) is often used to describe a condition of “rest,” “offering,” or “contentment.”  The idea of contentment would be as one where an agreement has been reached and offerings given.  However, this contentment is to be understood in the cycle of the Egyptian view of the proper ordering of the universe (maat).  Hetep is the result of action in accord with maat (Davies, Peace).  Perhaps some goodwill towards others may have legitimately been doing the “right thing.” 

What Made a "Good King" in the Ancient Near East

 This paper originally written as a discussion paper with informal citation.

ASH-3200:  Ancient Near Eastern Societies

Dr. Tiffany Early-Spadoni

University of Central Florida

Victory Stele of Naram-Sin

What Made a "Good King" in the Ancient Near East

            The specific traits of what constituted a “good king” in the Ancient Near East can often be relative to the time period, the culture, and the individual.  We do not have writings from the common people to help us understand what they thought a good ruler ought to be like, thus we are left with the records of the rulers themselves.  Therefore, we are left with a single-sided view.  We can, however, gleam some additional information from the actions of the rulers themselves as well as a few fragmentary stories that we have available to us.  While specific traits of kings changed over time and place, there are some similarities between them that we can identify, and we can also see comparisons in the changes that took place.  From the earliest historical records, both Mesopotamian and Egyptian rulers seemed to have been regarded as gods, or at least semi-divine (Earley-Spadoni, Kingship in the Ancient Near East).  In some instances, rulers achieved some type of divine recognition after death.  After the Early Bronze Age, rulers across the area seems to have lost their innate divine nature and were viewed as, at best semi-divine, but more likely as just below the gods (Earley-Spadoni, Kingship in the Ancient Near East).  Kings and Pharaohs often saw themselves as chosen by the gods as well as individually formed by the gods.  There was a sense that the gods “allotted” to the ruler certain rights and lands (See Gurney, Tukulti-Ninurta Epic and Lichtheim, Ramses II).  In the Epic of Tukulti-Ninurta I, he considers himself the “Chosen of Assur” (Gurney, The Sultantepe Tablets).  It is important to remember, however, as pointed out by Dr. Earley-Spadoni that the king was not a “despot with unlimited power” (Kingship in the Ancient Near East).

            We can see in the development of the royal form, an increase in the importance of the male form related to rulership.  Specifically, the virile, masculine form which included a physique and a closeness to divinity.  Rulers began to identify the perfection of their rule with certain traits that can be identified with the masculine role, an attractive physique, individual prowess in combat, as well as overall success in combat.  These suggest both an approval of the divine as well as the ruler possessing attributes approaching the divine.  Royal images often depict “near divine” status such as the control over life and death.  In fact, even the female Pharaoh Hatshepsut developed a public image that portrayed her with masculine features, including a full beard (Earley-Spadoni, Kingship of the Ancient Near East).  In the Epic of Gilgamesh, the central protagonist is said to have been 2/3 divine and 1/3 human.  These traits are often seen as a reflection of the male figure as being the dominant figure, and therefore reflective of what makes a good king.  In her book “Sex, Rhetoric, and the Public Monument:  The Alluring Body of Naram-Sin,” Irene Winter suggests that this royal image, a projected aura, or “auspiciousness” was representative of “wholeness and perfection.”  According to Winter, one of the primary traits of a king, bastu, which can be translated as “life-force, vigor, or vitality,” is often conflated with manliness (Sex, Rhetoric, and the Public Monument). 

            However, these traits alone do not make a king.  And certainly not a good king.  There is an expectation that a king will provide to his people certain fundamentals.  While we can view expansion of territory as a trait of masculine virility and kingly ego, the basic ability to protect one’s people in combat is a necessary evil.  “Hail, O Good Warrior!” was the cry of Ramses II’s warriors at the victory of the Battle of Qadesh (Lichtheim, pg. 69).  This is Ramses’ account, but an indicator that success in battle was necessary for a ruler to be considered effective.  Many rulers were complicated characters.  The Assyrian king Ashurnasirpal II apparently collected exotic animals and considered himself a scholar, amassing a large library in his capital.  He was also known for his extreme violence, having the tongues of the vanquished cut out or flaying them alive (Earley-Spadoni, Kingship in the Ancient Near East).  Many rulers were known for extensive building projects including large-scale irrigation as well as temples and other public buildings.  But, certainly, the writings of the cultures indicate to us that rulers of the later periods were not divine and were often punished by the gods for striving to reach beyond their allotted place.  The central story of the Epic of Gilgamesh revolves around this theme as does the Legend of Naram-Sin.  Divine judgement is often directed against the “arrogant and impetuous king” (Foster, pg. 171).  We see echoes of these motifs carried down in later periods, such as in Greek writings (See The Odyssey) and the Hebrew Bible (See the Book of Job).  According to Foster, the highest calling for mankind, and thus the ruler, is to pass on our knowledge and experience to subsequent generations (pg. 171).  A king was also expected to produce a better society for his subjects.  In the Legend of Naram-Sin, the king wonders if he has produced anything good out of his reign.  He sees himself as a king who has not done anything good for his land and likens himself to a shepherd who brings nothing good to his flock (Foster, pg. 174).  And again, in Ramses II’s inscription on the Battle of Qadesh, he cries out about all the good things he has done for the gods (Lichtheim, pg. 65) and later portrays himself as the “good king” who has cared for Memphis, opened the districts, let the nobles keep their possessions, and allowed the humble to freely move about in their towns. (Lichtheim, pg. 76).  It becomes apparent that kingship in the Ancient Near East was a complicated affair.  While we cannot look past the obvious masculine nature of what was considered to be a “ruler,” we also have to take into consideration the “good” that these rulers strived to accomplish.

Causes of the Late Bronze Age Collapse in the Ancient Near East

 This paper originally written as a discussion paper with informal citation.

ASH-3200:  Ancient Near Eastern Societies

Dr. Tiffany Early-Spadoni

University of Central Florida

Medinet Habu Relief

Causes of the Late Bronze Age Collapse in the Ancient Near East

            Towards the end of the Late Bronze Age, the area around the Mediterranean Sea experienced a sudden political and economic collapse.  Following this collapse, only the Assyrian Empire and the considerably weakened Kingdom of Egypt would continue in existence in any form that was previously recognizable.  The reason(s) for this collapse are not completely known, but for the last century, it has been assumed by scholars that it was due to incursions by groups known mysteriously as the “Sea Peoples.”  What we can say is that beginning in the 15^th century BCE, several large powers, Egypt, the Hittite Empire in Anatolia, the Mitanni in Upper Mesopotamia, and the Kassite Babylonian Kingdom in Southern Mesopotamia began to control the area of the Ancient Near East (Early-Spadoni, Peoples of the Late Bronze Age).  These four “great powers,” along with smaller kingdoms in the Levant and Mediterranean (such as the Canaanites, Minoans on Crete, Cypriots on the Island of Cyprus, and perhaps Mycenean Greece) developed international trade between themselves and areas along the Mediterranean Sea.  This trade network became fundamental to a strong economic structure in the area.  We have evidence of the extent of relationship between these kingdoms and the nature of trade from the archive of letters at Amarna.  The Amarna letters give us a glimpse into the correspondence between the Egyptian Pharaohs Amenhotep III and Amenhotep IV (otherwise known as Akhenaten) and the various kings of the other empires.  The record of Sea Peoples is from Pharaoh Ramses III, on the Medinet Habu inscription in his 8^th year (c. 1177 BCE).  He relays that no lands could stand before them and lists several cities that were laid to waste by the Sea Peoples.  The problem is this may be a misinterpretation of the Ramses text.  In addition, other sources do not corroborate this scenario.  The reality of the collapse may be much more complex than this implies.

            Unfortunately, there are few written sources that speak directly to any type of cause for the Late Bronze (LB) collapse.  The primary sources we have are Egyptian inscriptions, of which the Ramses inscription is one.  However, this is an important source for understanding what may have occurred.  In addition to these inscriptions, we do have some written texts from outside Egypt that help to shed light on the situation.  Primarily, the knowledge we have comes from archaeological data.  First, let us look at the Medinet Habu inscription.  Here, Ramses II does not actually call these groups “sea peoples” as if they were completely unknown.  In fact, he lists the names of the peoples who it appears came in waves (Eric Cline, 1177:  The Collapse of Civilizations, pg. 3).  Thirty years prior to Ramses’ recorded events, his predecessor Merneptah also recorded battling with these peoples as recorded on the Merneptah Stele.  However, Ramses does not suggest that the entire are of the Near East succumbed to these groups.  According to Jesse Michael Milleck, in an online article on ANE Today, titled “What Actually Happened in Syria at the End of the Late Bronze Age,” Ramses does not mention Ugarit at all, but he does mention Carchemish.  We know that the Sea Peoples likely started their campaign around Ugarit and then worked southward towards Egypt.  Early scholars assumed Ramses III was referring to the entire area.  So, what caused the complete collapse of the area?  Cline believes it was a result of multiple issues, which include climate change, drought, famine, and the destabilization of the international trade economy, along with both external and internal war (Cline, Online Lecture Series, Oriental Institute, Feb. 15, 2015).  As previously stated, one of the main sources we have for understanding the period is through archaeology.  Archaeological data paints a picture of what may have been occurring during this time period.  What we do not see is large scale destruction of cities across the area.  The cities of Qatna and Hama show archaeological evidence of destruction, but it is dated to the mid-15^th century BCE.  Likewise, the destruction of Alalakh is dated to around 1300 BCE (Milleck, What Happened in Syria?).  However, archaeological data from around the Mediterranean, including Cypress, Tell Tweini in Syria, and from the bottom of the Sea of Galilee and the Dead Sea all show evidence of climate change during this period (Cline, Online Lecture, OI).  Letters that we have from the King of Ugarit and the King of the Hittites both show pleads for help due to widespread famine (Cline, Online Lecture, OI).  Cline refers to a “Systems Collapse” whereby several factors contribute to the decline of economic and political stability.  We could likely look at the Hittite Empire as a microcosm of what was occurring in the region.  In his book “The History of Anatolia and of the Hittite Empire,” J. G. MacQueen argues that multiple factors led to the decline of the Hittites.  MacQueen agrees that the area suffered from climatic change that led to widespread harvest failures, and thus famine.  This lack of food led to movements of peoples internally from both the north and the west.  From the north, the Kashka people continued their onslaught upon the Hittites (MacQueen, History, pg. 1097).  While the archaeological data does not support widespread war across the region, with what we do have, we can probably piece together a likely scenario of events.  During the Late Bronze Age Period, a shift in climate to the region brought about catastrophic crop failures and resulted in widespread famine.  This resulted in mass internal and external migrations of peoples within nations and without.  Lack of resources severely damaged the existing international trade economy, furthering the decline.  A series of internal and external pressures, along with invading groups from outside the area led to a complete collapse of internal structures for most of the political groups of the Near East. 

            Of course, during this period we have several limitations and biases to our sources.  This first of which is that we simply do not have widespread writings across all areas.  While we have tantalizing clues about invading peoples and famine, they do not offer us a complete picture.  In some of the major texts we do have, there are still fundamental unanswered questions.  For example, in the Medinet Habu inscriptions, while Ramses provides us a list of the names of the invading peoples, we cannot conclusively determine where these people came from.  Where they from islands in the Mediterranean?  From mainland Greece? A combination of these?  And while we do have evidence of destruction from invading parties, for example the letter of the King of Ugarit to the King of Cyprus, where the former is desperate for help, we do not have a clear date reference for when it was written nor does it tell us who was invading (Cline, Collapse, pg. 9).  The archaeological evidence shows us that Ugarit was burned and then abandoned, but we cannot be sure the details that caused this without supporting written evidence.  And finally, we have to overcome several biases that have led to a standard response when asked what caused the LB collapse.  This first is a bias on the part of Ramses III, albeit we can probably forgive him for this.  He could not possibly have understood the complex web that connected climate change with drought.  While he likely had an exceptionally good understanding of the connection between drought and harvest failure and subsequent famine, he likewise may not have been able to connect that to migrations of peoples.  In his eyes, it is easier to understand bands of warriors attacking everywhere.  The second bias is larger.  It is the result of early scholars taking one piece of evidence and making a sweeping conclusion as to reliability.  Again, I refer to the Medinet Habu inscription and Ramses III.  The text was misunderstood to begin with, and then the understanding of the text was projected out to explain cause and effect for events across a large region that likely occurred over a period of decades up to a century to unfold.

Primary Sources for the Study of Ancient Egypt

 This paper originally written as a discussion paper with informal citation.

ASH-3200:  Ancient Near Eastern Societies

Dr. Tiffany Early-Spadoni

University of Central Florida

Palermo Stone

Primary Sources for the Study of Ancient Egypt

When discussing the history of ancient Egypt, we have several types of sources to pull from in gathering information.  Unfortunately, the only full “historical” analysis that we do have is from Manetho, an Egyptian priest living in the 3^rd Century BCE.  Modern scholars must use care in using Manetho as a source as, obviously he is so far removed from the earliest periods of Egyptian history, but also due to several other reasons.  One, his history was severely abridged by Christian writers several centuries after it was written.  Secondly, according to scholar William Murnane, Manetho was never able to distinguish within his sources those that were more factual and those that were mythical.  Add to this the fact that Manetho did not use comparative analysis with other source materials such as inscriptions written during the time period being discussed (Murnane, The History of Ancient Egypt, pg. 691).  Most of our primary source data comes in the form of hieroglyph inscriptions, used from some of the earliest writings throughout the ancient period.  Hieroglyphic inscriptions were used almost exclusively in the context of monumental art and architecture, such as dedicatory inscriptions and commemorative texts and often reflected a state ideology (Early-Spadoni, Sources in Ancient Egypt).  In addition to monumental texts, we also have, though scant in number, writings on papyri.  Papyrus texts were written on the leaves of the papyrus plant that grew along the Nile River.  Typically, in these and other non-formal inscription texts, the form of writing used was Hieratic, a cursive form of Egyptian.  Because the papyrus does not hold up well over time, we have far less of these as archaeological artifacts than what we have from the Mesopotamian archives.  These texts often reflect a variety of genres including contracts, legal texts, and religious texts (Early-Spadoni, Sources).  One of the more interesting artifacts we have from the Early Dynastic period is the Palermo Stone.  The Palermo Stone was written inscribed during the 5^th Dynasty and gives us a list of kings reaching back into the pre-Dynastic, and mythical, past (Murnane, History, pg. 693).  According to a transcription of the Palermo texts by Heinrich Schafer, the division of registers and vertical lines depict the year-by-year reigns of kings along with significant events during each reign.  We also find the height of the Nile flood for each year (Schafer, Ein Bruchstuck Altagyptischer Annalen).  Along with inscriptions from royal tombs, palaces, and temples, and particularly increasing in later years, we have numbers of letters of correspondence between Egypt’s Pharaohs and the rulers of other large and small empires to the east.  It comes as no surprise that the most secure we can feel in the historical accuracy of an event is when two unrelated documents corroborate each other such as in the raid of the 22^nd Dynasty’s Shoshenq I into Palestine.  This event is recorded not only on a triumphal relief in the Temple of Amun at Thebes, but also attested in the Hebrew Bible in the book of 1 Kings 14:25-26 (Murnane, History, pg. 710).

            The form, style, and context of writings and artifacts can often shape our interpretation of their source in unique ways.  Given the multitude of monumental architecture related to burial and the dominance, particularly in the earlier periods, of texts that are funerary and mortuary related…that is, they are often related to death and the rituals surrounding death (Early-Spadoni, Sources), it can be easy to assume that perhaps the culture only left writings related to these events or that perhaps they were overly consumed by them.  However, it is important to remember that what artifacts we have are often those that are best preserved over time, not necessarily those that were most produced.  One of the interesting facets about Egyptian culture is in how they named cities, places, individuals, and cultures.  We can often gleam some information from this.  During the 1^st Dynasty, kings often carried simpler names such as Narmer (“Baleful Catfish”) or Aha (“Fighter”).  In the 2^nd Dynasty, we see a transition to names that we may be able to attribute to a stronger sense of relating the person of the ruler to that of the divine, such as the boastful title “He Who Belongs to the God” which is the interpretation of the name Nyjetner (Murnane, History, pg. 695).  As is often the case, writings from the ruling class often included or reflected an ideological or political message.  In an essay of political propaganda, Life of Neferti, the 12^th Dynasty’s Amenemhet I portrays himself as “a national savior, coming after a period of protracted chaos” (Murnane, History, pg. 699). 

            As in all source material from any period, there are limitations to what we can know for sure about their historical accuracy as well as their historical completeness.  As in the case of Mesopotamian sources, we often do not see a picture of the lives of the common workers, women, children, and slaves.  We often only see what the ruling class, the elite officials, and the religious elites want us to see.  There are some exceptions, however.  Take, for example, ostracon found in the workers’ community of Deir el-Medina.  The inhabitants here wrote on ostraca, broken pieces of pottery, and of the hundreds of texts found, many ranged from love songs to laundry lists, and other everyday writings (Early-Spadoni, Sources).  Further insight can be gained in the exchange of correspondence between Amenhotep III and King Tushratta of the Mitanni as well as King Kadashman-Enlil I of Babylon.  In both cases, the eastern kings requested a daughter of the Pharaoh for marriage.  Amehhotep replied that for all it’s history, no daughter of Egypt has ever been sent off for marriage (implying political marriage to other kingdoms) (Murnane, History, pg. 704).  While this on the surface seems noble, we do not see the full picture that Amenhotep himself received foreign daughters as brides.  And, finally, in discussing the limitations of our sources, I want to briefly mention both the Story of Sinuhe and The Execretion Texts, both from the 12^th Dynasty.  While both writings give us a picture of an Egypt that was both wary of potential enemies to the east, but also not desirous of making war there with the intent of establishing or expanding empire (Murnane, History, pg. 700), we also can come away short because we do not fully understand why this is the case.  Could it be that the ruling class had no desire to expand or make war?  Were there internal conflicts that prevented such actions?  Was the country experiencing economic hardships that forced it to look in upon itself and ignore the rest of the world?  These are questions that are not easily answered and can affect how we envision the status of the ancient Egyptian world during that period.

Discussion of Primary Sources in the Ancient Near East

 This paper originally written as a discussion paper with informal citation.

ASH-3200:  Ancient Near Eastern Societies

Dr. Tiffany Early-Spadoni

University of Central Florida

Akkadian Cylinder Seal

Discussion of Primary Sources in the Ancient Near East

            In looking at the early history of Mesopotamia, there are several classes of primary sources with which we can glean information about the lives of those peoples and cultures.  We have, in varying amounts, both archaeological artifacts and historical (written) artifacts.  These can generally be divided into the following classes (genres):

-Pottery:  Artifacts made, typically in this time period, from clay or sometimes stone and used in everyday life such as bowls, jars, cups, etc…

-Seals (Stamp and especially Cylinder Seals:  Items made typically from stone that bear glyphs (images) and sometimes inscriptions that represent the authority of the individual who owned it.  This would be stamped or rolled onto soft clay and left to harden as a “seal” of authority.

-Monumental Art:  Such as Steles (large stone slabs that commemorate some event) and dedicatory inscriptions.

-Monumental Architecture:  Tombs, Ziggurats, Temples, etc…

-Writing (Cuneiform Tablets)

            Across different time periods and cultural sources, these types of artifacts can differ.  What representations and writings are made on these sources and how they differ between periods can shape our interpretation of those who created them.  One example is in the area of cylinder seals.  One example we have from the Uruk Period (4,000 to 3,000 BCE) depicts a large male figure (possibly a “ruler” or “king” figure) wearing a net skirt and head band in a scene of several other smaller individuals. (Early-Spadoni, 2021, The Uruk Period).  By the time of the Akkadian Period (2,350 to 2,200 BCE), cylinder seals often took on simpler motifs.  They also seemed to employ more empty space within the seal, more symmetry, and more depictions of gods.  During this period, a new scene also emerged, called the “presentation scene” which depicts the ruler being presented to a god, or sometimes an official being presented to the ruler. (Early-Spadoni, 2021, The Akkadian Empire).  Shapes, styles, and motifs of art, architecture, and writings reflect what was important to, generally, the culture at the time, and specifically, the individual who created it or employed its creation.  For example, we can contrast victory steles over time.  Steles are large slabs of concrete (sometimes wood) that were covered with figures and writing that often commemorated some event or achievement by a ruler.  Early steles from the Ur III period tended to reflect rulers as “pious builders” while later steles, such as the Stele of Vultures from the Early Dynastic III period or the Stele of Naram-Sin from the Akkadian period were designed to reinforce the idea of the ruler as a “smiter of enemies.”  (Early-Spadoni, 2021, Age of the Amorites).  Compare this with the Stele of Hammurabi during the Old Babylonian Period (2,000 to 1,6000 BCE).  In this stele, Hammurabi (c. 1,810 to 1,750 BCE) is depicted in the form of a “just king” who is an ideological new ruler (Early-Spadoni, 2021, Age of the Amorites).  The stele reveals a number of laws and portrays Hammurabi as a “law-giver” type ruler. 

            All of these primary sources have a number of limitations present for the modern scholar.  They often reveal only a narrow window of society.  While pottery can be used by all individuals across the spectrum of society, they often do not indicate to us anything more than how they were made and sometimes, images that were either important or popular.  When we look at cylinder seals, monumental art, and monumental architecture, we are only seeing what is presented by those who were powerful enough or economically advantaged enough to create them or have them created.  Monumental art and architecture were created by rulers, the ruling class, and sometimes the priestly class.  These items reflected the achievements that they wanted to present to the world.  Rulers seldom publicly record their failures and defeats, so we often only have records of their victories.  Similarly, we often are unable to look into the lives of those who did not produce these types of artifacts.  Unless specifically written about them, we do not have a reflection of the common person, the worker, women, children, or slaves.  There are some few exceptions.  For example, early Uruk writings that have been found sometimes were of school recitations, lexicons, hymns, and “wisdom” literature (Early-Spadoni, 2021, The Uruk Period).  Later on, during the Assyrian Period, we have a large number of cuneiform texts in the form of letters that revealed much about trade and the merchant class.  A number of these were found in Mari.  Many of these are first person accounts of the merchant life and would include things such as taxes, trading prices, and making arrangements for travel.  (Touillon-Ricci, M., “Life of a Salesman:  Trade and Contraband in Ancient Assyria,” ASOR online).