Working wonders: Hephaestus and the Armour of Achilles

This is a retitled chapter from The Sacred History of Being (originally titled: 'Being in Homer'). It analyses Book XVIII of The Iliad. It is something of an eye-opener about the intellectual life of what became known as the Greek Heroic Age. Much of the intellectual and tropic detail in this book of The Iliad strongly resembles ideas and themes which can be found in Mesopotamian and Phoenician sources.

It is not much studied in modern times for an understanding of Greek life and thought, since it is full of fantastical elements, whose context we think we lost long ago. It may be studied for the language and the poetry, and also for the narrative of a small but crucial part of the conflict between the Achaeans and the city of Troy.

There is an exception however, which is discussed (among other things) in this chapter. It is a favourite subject of classicists and ancient historians, but they find it hard to agree about why the passage is present in the poem, and what it means. Looking at the entire book, which hangs together extremely well as an artistic enterprise, it is perfectly clear why the passage is present, and what its meaning is.

The text of the chapter is unchanged, and I've retained the footnotes (though they have been renumbered).


TY, February 19, 2018.

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A passage in Homer’s Iliad, often thought to be a later interpolation in the text, the famous ‘Shield of Achilles’ episode, features a collocation of images, struck together on an imaginary shield. The shield edge is bounded by Ocean, which among the ancient Greeks connotes border, the edge of the world. It is also the place of generation, which is associated with Being and the gods. There is a scene where a dispute is being resolved, which is an image of justice. This is an allusion (in the Greek context) to the sun God Apollo, who, like his Mesopotamian counterpart, Shamash, is a god of justice. This image, rather than being a later interpolation, can be shown to echo the themes in the same section of the Iliad.

If we follow the story from the beginning of the eighteenth book of the Iliad, where Thetis comforts her son Achilles who is grieving for the death of his friend and kinsman Patroclus, we shall see how the images point to an articulate idea of Being. The essence of the events in this book is that Thetis promises to procure her son Achilles new armour from Hephaestus. At the command of Hera, Achilles attacks and strikes terror into the enemy. The body of Patroclus is recovered, and prepared for funeral rites. The armour is prepared by Hephaestus for Achilles.

Achilles is expecting to die, recalling that his mother once informed him that, though he was the bravest of the Myrmidons, he would, though now still surviving, would leave the light of the sun ‘by the hands of the Trojans’. Twice in this passage, his contemplation of the fate of the Achaeans is described as a ‘revolving’ in his mind (and once in his soul), which is reminiscent of Plato’s description of rational thought in the Living Animal. He grieves for the fallen Patroclus, killed by Hector. He gives a dreadful moan, and we are told that ‘his venerable mother heard him, while she was sitting in the depths of the sea.’ This passage is a close parallel to the Mesopotamian image of Ea/Enki at home in the midst of the waters of the Apsu. We are told that Thetis was beside her aged father in the depths, and that she immediately lamented for her son’s grief.  [i]  We are also told that ‘all the goddesses were assembled around her, as many Nereids as were at the bottom of the sea’, so this is a place where a totality (of Nereids) is collected together. In the Mesopotamian story the location is a house, whereas Thetis resides in a cave.

We are given a list of many of their names, and these repay attention.

The list is Glauce, Thaleia, Cymodoce, Nesaea, Spio, Thoa, and ‘large-eyed’ Halia, Cymothoë, Actaea, and Limnorea, Melita, Iaera, Amphithoë, and Agave, Doto, Proto, Pherusa, and Dynamene, Dexamene, Amphinome, and Callianira, Foris, Panope, and distinguished Galatea, Nemertes, Apseudes, and Callianassa.  In addition are mentioned Clymene, Ianira and Ianassa, Maera, Orithya, and fair-haired Amathea. There were others, but they are not named by Homer. The cave is described as ‘resplendent’ and full of Nereids.

Some of these are particularly interesting. Glauce as an adjective might qualify thalassa as ‘gleaming sea,’ as it does at II, 34. Thaleia probably connotes ‘abundance’ (thallo, as in thalassa), Nesaea means ‘island’ or ‘islet, from nēsos.  Spio probably means ‘cavern, cave or grotto’, derived from ‘speos’ (in Homer appearing as speious).  Halia may mean ‘blowing seaward’ (Homer uses haliaēs to mean this in the Odyssey. In connection with the epithet ‘large-eyed’, Halia is an Ionian word meaning ‘assembly of the people’. Homer is punning), and Cymothoë ‘billowing waves’.  Actaea means coast, (Aktaia), Limnorea may connote a large pool of standing water, or directly indicate the sea, Melita may be honeyed mead, or perhaps 'sweet water', and Amphithoë suggests 'running quickly around,' as water does when it is loosed from its bounds.

And so on. The pattern is clear. These are mainly attributes of water or liquid in different states, and therefore a collection of terms which might be used to describe aspects of the sea, or of the primal ocean, which might be the focus of priestly contemplation. Other terms refer to things associated with the sea, such as caves, and shorelines, and so on. We have here a partial list of attributes and properties of images which reference the divine. It may be that the origin of this list is one or more temple documents, compiled for a cult centre, in order to standardise a set of images and descriptions which might be used to approach the reality beyond images.

Ten of the names of the Nereids appear to be similar, but in different forms. These are Amphithoë and Amphinome, Callianira and Callianassa, Cymodoce and Cymothoë, Dynamene and Dexamene, and Ianira and Ianassa. The pairing of names in divine genealogy is well known in Mesopotamia, and usually indicates a twin birth. If this is the pattern which is being followed, it suggests that the Nereids might have been part of a complete theology at one time, perhaps imported from the near East, or perhaps brought to Greece by an incoming population group. It is also possible that the Nereids are very old and local to Greece. Unfortunately we have very little other information about the Nereids from any source other than Homer.  [ii]  We do know that the Phoenician theology was also focused on the depths of the sea, paralleling part of the Mesopotamian theology, with the god Ea living in the abyss at the bottom of the ocean. And that the Greeks did extensive business in their emporia along the coast of Phoenicia.

Achilles grief stems in part from the fact that the armour of Patroclus has been removed by the Trojans. Achilles own armour was also taken by the Trojans. The decision of Thetis to supply her son with the finest possible set of armour represents an inversion of the desecratory action of Hector, which has a bearing on the design represented on the shield made by Hephaestus, since it shows good order opposed to bad order.

Thetis and all the Nereids leave the cave, weeping, ‘and the wave of the ocean was cleft around for them.’ This is an image which recalls the creation, in that the ocean may be understood as a god, and to part the waves is to cut the divine body in two, as described in both Plato's account of the creation, and the Mesopotamian  account.

The concept of fate in the Iliad is strikingly inexorable, like that found in Mesopotamian literature – Achilles says: ‘may I die then immediately, since it was not destined that I should aid my companion now slain.’ Nevertheless he asks that bad order be replaced with good, and so ‘therefore contention might be extinguished from gods and men; and anger, which is wont to impel even the very wisest to be harsh.’ This idea is represented in the design of the shield, with two communities, one of which is based on brigandage, the other a place where contention has been banished. Thetis (‘the silver footed’) had urged Achilles ‘not to enter the slaughter of Ares’ before he sees her return at dawn with the armour from king Hephaestus.

Thetis then turns away from her son, and addresses the Nereids, saying that they should now enter the ‘broad bosom of the deep’, about to behold the ‘marine old man, and the mansions of my sire, and tell him all things’. The Nereids return to Ocean here is not simply a retracing of steps, but entry into the world of the divine. It is a place which must know all things. Thetis travels alone to ‘lofty’ Olympus, to Hephaestus, ‘the skilful artist,’ to ask if he is willing to make the armour.

In the meantime, Achilles is visited by the goddess Iris (peace), sent by Hera, to remind him of the disgrace that would be the consequence of the body of Patroclus being abandoned to the Trojans. She isn't urging peace.  However Achilles tells her of his mother’s admonition not to join the battle until her return. Iris then urges that he go toward the ditch and show himself to the Trojans, so that in their terror they may desist from battle, at least for a while.

Achilles rose after the departure of Iris. The goddess Minerva threw around his strong shoulders her fringed aegis. ‘And the divine one of goddesses crowned his head around with a golden cloud, and from it she kindled a shining flame’, and the flame from his head reached to the sky. He stood, having advanced from the wall to the trench only, and did not mingle with the Greeks, mindful of the advice of his mother. Three times he shouted over the trench, and three times were the Trojans and their allies thrown into confusion, with the assistance of Pallas Minerva. By this means the body of Patroclus was recovered.

So Achilles did not fight, but recovered the body of Patroclus by the use of his intelligence, through the assistance of the goddess of wisdom. It is good order to succeed through throwing your enemies and their allies into confusion, rather than achieving your aim by violence and slaughter. This part of Homer's text reflects a time when social and political issues were often resolved through angry and divisive contention. Thetis had urged Achilles not to enter the slaughter of the god of warfare, Ares, until she returned: Ares, in a sense, is as responsible for bad order as the Trojans and their allies.

This is followed by another striking image involving Ocean. ‘Large-eyed, venerable Hera’ ‘sent the sun to return to the flowing of the ocean, against his inclination.’ The sun therefore set, and the Greeks and the Trojans stopped fighting. The Trojans assembled in their council before they even thought to eat, which suggests they were impelled by anger more than sense. They were addressed by ‘prudent’ Polydamus, the son of Panthus. The name Panthus (Panthoos) again references the ideas of the telos and of Being, where everything is embraced, including past and present. In fact, the son of Panthus is described as one who, alone among them, ‘saw both the future and the past’. Hector and Polydamus were both possessed of excellences and virtues. Born on the same day, Hector excelled in counsel, and the other ‘greatly in the spear.’ Polydamus advised to guard the towers and the city overnight, dressed in their armour. Hector effectively told him to shut up, and advised that they should fight by the Greeks ships in the morning, and that if Achilles has arisen at the ships, ‘it will be the worse for him’.

The irony here is that it is Polydamus, who excelled 'greatly in the spear' and is therefore excellent in warfare, who makes the prudent proposal. Hector, by contrast and against expectation, provided bad counsel. So the Trojans assented to Hector, and cheered him. But they were foolish, since Pallas Minerva ‘had taken their senses away from them.’ They assented to Hector’s advising of destructive things, and no one assented to the prudent counsel of Polydamus.

By this time (after sunset, when the sun is below the waves) Thetis had reached the home of Hephaestus on Olympus – incorruptible, starry, and remarkable among the brazen immortals. Hephaestus therefore is remarkable, but not divine, though he possesses attributes of the divine.  He makes statues of the gods, or in fact ‘makes gods’ as was the understanding of the early part of the 1^st millennium B.C.E.  He thus has very special attributes, like the Mesopotamian Nudimmud, and can make things in heaven as well as on earth.

Homer tells us that Thetis found him sweating, working at the bellows, making twenty tripods to stand around the wall of his ‘well-built palace’. These tripods had golden wheels placed under the base of each, so that ‘of their own accord they might enter the heavenly council, and again return home – a wonder to be seen.’

Here is another image which references the world of Being. It also associates the divine world with the idea of council: the two are associated through the idea of totality, since totality is an attribute of both council and Being. And in a sense, they are interchangeable through their common possession of totality. We are told of the perfection of the work which has produced these tripods, as we were told of the perfection of the body of the living animal in the Timaeus: “so much finish had they, but he had not yet added the well-made handles, which he was preparing; and he was forging the rivets.”

So we have three attributes of the divine referenced in this passage: totality, perfection and council, struck together. The tripods have golden and therefore incorruptible wheels. They are also circular, and complete. By virtue of these attributes alone, they can pass into the heavenly council, and also return, again by virtue of these attributes.

This is a clear anticipation of the theory of wholes or totalities attributed to Pythagoras, and repeated by Plato, in which completeness by itself allows participation in the divine, and indeed identity with the divine. This passage is virtually impossible to explain outside the context of a theory of this sort. In which case, the theory of wholes and totalities was known to Homer in the 9th or 8th century B.C.E.  [iii]

The tripods are able to move between the worlds, which makes sense, if the worlds are conceived of as being physically distinct - one way in which commerce with the divine can be framed. That these remarkable objects are tripods probably reflects two things - that the objects can have reality in this world, and the worlds above and below this one. The tripod is also a common ritual object in the early 1st millennium B.C.E, and not only in Greece. It might be used to hold a vessel for burning incense, or for collecting the blood of a sacrifice, and so on. The image carries these and other associations of commerce with the divine world.

Thetis is greeted by Hephaestus, and then his wife Charis. Hephaestus recalls that “an awful and revered goddess… saved me when distress came upon me, fallen down far by the contrivance of my shameless mother,  [iv]  who wished to conceal me, being lame.”  [v]  He then focuses on the importance of Ocean for him, saying: “Then should I have suffered sorrows in my mind, had not Eurynome and Thetis received me in their bosom; Eurynome, daughter of the refluent Ocean.”  [vi]  He tells us he was with them for nine years, during which time he made in brass “many ingenious works of art, buckles, twisted bracelets, and clasp-tubes, in the hollow cave,” while “round us flowed the immense stream of Ocean, murmuring with foam: nor did any other either of gods or mortal men know it; but Thetis and Eurynome, who preserved me, knew it.” He asks Charis now to set before Thetis “good hospitable fare”, and lays aside his tools. “He went out of the doors limping, and golden handmaids, like unto living handmaidens, moved briskly about the king.” Here we have the art of statuary associated with a former inhabitant of Ocean – and it is the art of creating living statues of which Hephaestus is a master craftsman.

We are told something of their attributes: “in their bosoms was prudence with understanding, and within them was voice and strength; and they are instructed in works by the immortal gods.” We have been told earlier that Hephaestus can make objects which can enter the heavenly council of their own accord, and return again, which was “a wonder to be seen”. So we know that setting up statues within Heaven is within his abilities. He can make living creatures which have within them the attributes of prudence and understanding. They are also instructed in works by the immortal gods, which means that these golden handmaids are expressions of the divine will and intention.

At this point Thetis makes her request to Hephaestus, that he make armour for her son Achilles. The armour of Achilles was lost when Patroclus was slain, since Achilles had given him his own. Thetis explains that “All day they fought round the Scaean gates, and certainly on that day had overturned Troy, had not Apollo slain, among the foremost warriors, the gallant son of Menoetius, after having done such mischief, and given glory to Hector.” Apollo is the god of justice as well as of the Sun, and so is the dispenser of victory and defeat to men in battle.  [vii]

It is particularly interesting to consider how it is that negative characteristics can have positive qualities, as we find in the Iliad and the Odyssey.  Odysseus has the epithet ‘Sacker of Cities’, and at the time Homer was writing, it is clear that being a ‘sacker of cities’ was not seen universally as reprehensible to the society of the time, but Homer himself objects to it.  [viii]  Hence the 'Shield of Achilles' passage, where the contrast is made between a prosperous city and a city under siege, open to destruction and the division of spoils. The idea is planted that the rapacious behaviour of former times, in a time before reason, may not have much to recommend it.

Underlying the idea that the ‘sacking of cities’ is something which may have honour and glory associated with it, is the abstract notion of greatness. The sacking of a city is greatly destructive, and so participates (within this simplistic model) in greatness. What we have here is an idea which fits within the mental model in which it is possible to connect with divinity through extreme action. There would have been many objections to this, on the grounds that such action did not promote the good, or good order. Hence it was a question which would have exercised the Greeks as being a pattern of behaviour which superficially made sense within a mental model of the world of the late Bronze Age.

[i] It is interesting and possibly significant that Homer never mentions Nereus by name, but is referred to as the 'aged father' of Thetis.

[ii] It is well known that Homer composed the Iliad and the Odyssey somewhere in Anatolia, and so the Nereids may have been part of the theology of an Anatolian cult, rather than a Greek one. It is unnecessary to explore here that even in ancient Greece it was accepted by some that a significant number of their gods had a foreign origin.

[iii] The alternative would be to argue that not only is the 'Shield of Achilles' passage a later interpolation, but that much of the eighteenth book of the Iliad comes from a much later date. I don't think that would be a credible suggestion. The very fact that so much in Homer has been difficult to explain for so long, argues that the text we have comes from an age with a different set of preconceptions about how things work.

[iv] In later accounts, Hephaestus is son of Hera, without the intervention of a father. Here he is son of Zeus and Hera, sister and wife.

[v] The lameness of Hephaestus reflects the awe in which workers in metal were once held: they seem to work magic, and yet they are here on earth. They seem to work with heavenly fire, but are not actually divine.

[vi] Eurynome is daughter of Okeanos, as he says. But her name means something like 'wide pasture'. The first part of her name translates literally as 'broad' or 'wide'.

[vii] His equivalent in Assyria is Shamash, who has similar qualities, and is sometimes represented in palace reliefs as hovering over the field of battle, represented by his symbol of the winged circle.

[viii] 'Destruction of cities' is included among the lists of Sumerian 'mes'.

Ocean and the Limit of Existence

For the ancient Greeks, Ocean was imagined as a band which circumscribed the world like a gigantic river. This idea is deeply rooted in the intellectual model of the world which stretches back to the time of Homer. The Greeks did not know with any certainty that there was indeed an ocean which bounded the continents of Europe, Asia, and Africa, but the belief that it did so bound the land was an essential part of their picture of the world.

But the Greek concept of Ocean is so much more than the idea of the world being surrounded by a massive body of water, beyond which further travel was impossible to imagine or achieve. As the entity which bounded their world, it was understood to contribute to the world those things which only the limit of their reality could contribute. To Homer the ‘generation of all’ is the river Okeanos. R. B. Onians tells us that the river ‘surrounds the earth’, and is ‘associated with ‘mother Tethys. [1] Then he makes an interesting point about the usage of ‘genesis’ by Homer – he suggests that ‘genesis’ suggests ‘the process, or, in this context, the substance rather than the agent of generation. He says ‘that Homer uses it twice of the cosmic river and not elsewhere of gods, men, or animals, which are agents, ‘fathers’, [which] can scarcely be accidental. And indeed it is not accidental. The generative properties of Okeanos are qualitatively different from those possessed by gods, men, or animals, all of which are forms.
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Onians continues, saying that Okeanos ‘was believed to be a bond around the earth, apparently of serpent form even as Acheloos, the primal river or water, was conceived as a serpent with human head and horns.’ And that ‘the procreative element in any body was the psuke, which appeared in the form of a serpent’. Thus, Okeanos, ‘as may now be seen, the primal psuke, and thus would be conceived as a serpent in relation to procreative liquid… it can now be explained as the imagined primal cosmic psuke or procreative power, liquid and serpent’. Onians points out the striking similarity between this picture of the world and that found in Mesopotamia, where the earth ‘was encircled by the male element, Apsu, a serpent identified with or in water. With him was another serpent, Tiamat, ‘mother of them all,’’ referencing the Babylonian Epic of Creation. He points out that the Euphrates, thought of as a serpent, was ‘the soul of the land.’ The Mesopotamian concept of the Apsu also embraced the waters of the underworld, so it is easy to understand why among the Greeks, the ‘greatest and most awful oath for the blessed gods’ is, as Onians tells us, ‘by the water of the river of the underworld, the water, the water of Styx proper to the dead.’

It would be easy here to take a detour to explore the relationship between these ideas and the Ionian speculations which have come down to us refracted through the writings of Plato and Aristotle, and the commentators on these writings from the late classical world. There is clearly a connection between Ionian ideas of physis, or ‘as Plato interprets’ genesis, ‘generation’, in their discussions of the primary substance from which all developed. Onians reminds us that Thales argued that the primary substance was ‘water’, and that he thought that the world rested upon water, as well as being surrounded by it. He notes that Aristotle suggests that Thales reason for this view was that ‘he saw that the nourishment of all things is liquid and that the warm is born therefrom and lives thereby and that ‘the seed of all is wet by nature’; and he gives it as the opinion of some people that this view of Thales was the ‘very ancient’ view to be seen in the description of Okeanos and Tethys as ‘fathers of generation’ and in the swearing by the waters of Styx’.

We are dealing here with a very ancient body of ideas, which has strong parallels with ideas which can be found not only in Mesopotamia, but also in countries further east, in Persia and India. Onians also suggests that that the idea of Okeanos ‘is the same belief which underlies the doctrine of the Orphics [2] and of Pherekydes, [3] that the first cosmic power was Ophion or Ophioneus’ [pointing out that ophis means ‘serpent’] with his consort described as Okeanis, and that after a struggle with Kronos he dwelt in Okeanos or Ogenos.’ [4] Onians also points out that Philo derives Pherekydes’ teachings from Phoenician sources.’ As already discussed, Okeanos also appears in Homer as the border to the ‘Shield of Achilles’, as at its ‘outermost rim’. The same arrangement holds for Hesiod’s ‘Shield of Herakles.’

The snake-dragon in Mesopotamia is a prominent symbol down to the Hellenistic period. Interestingly it functions as a symbol of various gods, or as a magically protective symbol not associated with any particular deity. Snake gods of Mesopotamia, in particular Nirah, ‘seem to be the only fully animalian, non-anthropomorphic, deities.’ [5] If associated with the idea of the mythological implex of Okeanos, and consequently with the notion of generation (genesis) as opposed to mere fatherhood, one would expect the snake gods to be spoken of differently from other gods. On page 139 of Green & Black’s dictionary of Gods, Demons and Symbols of Ancient Mesopotamia, there is an interesting illustration, [6] which shows Gudea, prince of Lagash, (neo-Sumerian period), being introduced to the god Enki. This illustration is from Gudea’s own cylinder seal. It shows Enki holding flowing bowls, and the waters emanating from them form a circuit around him. The waters are below his feet, and cross his shoulders. There are three bowls under the seat of his throne; two flowing bowls are his footstool, and another stands behind his throne. Ningišzida has a hand on the bowl held in Enki’s right hand, and there is a lotus symbol emerging from the top of that bowl (a symbol of generation), in addition to the flow of waters. Enki is clearly immersed in the Abzu, which is the ground of Being, as is Okeanos in the Greek world. The circuit of waters is consonant with the idea of Okeanos circumscribing the world. Gudea, Lord of Lagash, is being introduced to the god Enki by his personal god Ningišzida, who holds Gudea’s left hand in his right hand, while he holds a flowing bowl held by Enki, with his left hand. Ningišzida has the serpent symbol, which in Greece is associated with Okeanos, emerging from each of his shoulders.

What does this tableau mean? It is Gudea’s own cylinder seal, so it is relaying an idea which Gudea wants to be understood abroad – at least to those able to understand the language of the image. It is difficult to establish exactly what the image means, but it seems to mean that Gudea is establishing a level of identity with Enki, so that he might be understood to have a connection with the qualities and properties of the Abzu and Enki, both of which are associated with rulership. Reading from right to left, the image is easier to understand: we have Enki, secure in the Abzu, establishing connection with the ground of Being to the god Ningišzida, who holds the hand of the supplicant ruler Gudea. Thus Enki is rewarding Gudea, mediated through Ningišzida, with the qualities of rulership, which have their source in the ground of Being.

The Akkadian name for the ‘vase with streams’ is hegallu, translated as ‘abundance’. This is a symbol which is often found in Mesopotamian iconography. Black and Green describe it as a ‘round-bodied, short-necked, flared-rim jar with streams issuing from its mouth’. The symbol is extensively used in the iconography from Mari, and in other places. The symbolism is often combined with fish swimming in the streams, and sometimes the fish stand in metonomously for the streams, so that the streams are implied rather than shown. The symbolism continued to be used into Achaemenid times. The gods Enki and Ea are often associated with this symbol, as are the various creatures of the Abzu. Black and Green note that the ‘vase with streams’ symbol does not stand for a particular god. Instead they interpret it to be ‘a general attribute of certain divine and semi-divine figures, perhaps
signifying fertility and abundance.’ This interpretation is the best possible in the absence of a proper understanding of the nature of the Abzu and its intellectual context. In fact the flowing vase is a symbol of generation and plenitude, and the latter quality enables the former property. [7] The Innin temple of Kara-indash at Uruk features relief decoration, in the form of a frieze of deities holding flowing vases. Interestingly they are recessed into the wall, so that they are in the wall, and do not project beyond the limit of the building. The whole design is a symbolic celebration of the idea of the properties of the limit. The bricks which separate the recessed figures are surmounted by the image of the flowing waters. These repeated symbols stand on stele or or kudduru [8] shaped objects which do stand proud of the wall (as do the symbols of the flowing waters). These objects are regularly used to signify ‘mountain’ (Shamash is often depicted rising above these, with the rays of the sun emanating from his shoulders). The symbol is usually referred to as ‘kur’, which can also mean a road or way. There is an illustration of two of these figures in Oates Babylon. [9] The representations of the symbol for mountain are reduplicated on the body of the figure on the right. Mountain may also be used as symbol of extreme height (the gods, if they are anywhere, are often supposed to be accessible through high places), in which case this reduplicates the idea of passing beyond a limit (in this case passing beyond the Abzu and coming into the world of existence). In Greece the idea of soul (psuke) is particularly associated with the upper body and the head, and I suggest that some such concept is indicated here. The symbols on the body of the left-hand figure may represent water in the form of wavy lines. Both figures have the upper parts of their bodies bisected by a line of brick parallel with the limit of the wall.

It is the establishment of a connection with the Abzu, which enables rulership. Without this connection, the rulership of the king is not legitimate. Connection with Okeanos is a close parallel of this form of legitimation: as the source of generation, Okeanos makes generation possible. Both Abzu and Okeanos represent the limit of reality, the point of division between the secular world and the divine world. Connection with the ground of Being, identified with this limit, is a connection with the world which is beyond this, a place conceived of as enshrining perfection and greatness. It is also therefore transcendent of this world, and in a sense contains the secular universe, though not necessarily in the same form.

Casting our minds back to Plato’s description of the Living Animal in the Timaeus, we should recall what he said about ‘soul’, which was that it was woven all through the world. We can look at this from more than one point of view. Soul appears to be a property of generated beings which has connection with the ground of Being, whether that be designated by the Abzu, Okeanos, or some other related term. It is this connection which gives generated forms their existence in the representation of reality which is the secular world. So in that sense, soul is woven through the world. But Plato has another idea in mind: Okeanos is woven through the world in that the earth is permeated by rivers, which also have the property of generating forms. In Mesopotamia, the rivers were considered to be divine, marked by the cuneiform sign DINGIR. A river would be indicated by the signs for DINGIR. ID. [10] It is likely that the notion that rivers were de facto divine in Mesopotamia derives from the assumption, vital within the intellectual model of the world, that they were connected to the Abzu, through which all things have connection with one another. [11]

1 Onians, R. B. The Origins of European Thought (about the Body, the Mind, the Soul, the World, Time, and Fate). Cambridge University Press, 1951.
2 Fr. 29 K.
3 B. 4 D.
4 This is of some bearing on Plato’s discussion of the Living Animal in the Timaeus, where time comes into being when the same and the different are placed at an angle to each other.
5 Black and Green, Gods, Demons and Symbols of Ancient Mesopotamia, British Museum Press, 1992. p 166,
6 Op. cit. fig. 115, p139.
7 See Black and Green, Gods, Symbols and Demons of Ancient Mesopotamia. Oxford. p 184.
8 Kudduru is a form of boundary marker.
9 Op. cit. p88, figure 60.
10 These signs were used by both the Assyrians and the Babylonians. The signs are ideograms and are derived from the Sumerian lexicon. Akkadian texts are often laden with words and expressions which are written out in Sumerian textual forms, much as we might use Latin or French expressions in the course of writing or speaking.
11 The waters of the Abzu were understood to be of two kinds: the sweet and the bitter. These are easily understood as fresh water and sea water respectively.