We may want to recognise an “Akkadian period” in archaeology for two reasons. A sequence of periods is used as a system of chronological reference, and the Akkadian period conventionally represents the time from 2334–2154 BC (Walker 1995, 234). Periods are also used to define fields of analysis in which studies of social structure or other synchronic investigations may be conducted. The Akkadian period is known as the “first empire” which saw major political and administrative innovations. In archaeology periods have to be defined from the changes in artefact types, so a concordance is needed between the historical and artefactual phases. During the last thirty years McG. Gibson has persistently addressed questions of chronology, and has made an especially important contribution to the chronology of the Akkadian period. A new article (Gibson and McMahon 1995) represents the present state of this issue, based on excavations in the Diyala and Hamrin regions, and in the vicinity of Nippur. Dr McMahon has subjected thousands of sherds from stratified occupation surfaces to statistical analysis, and publication of their distribution and comparanda is expected. The resulting pottery sequence, exhaustively constructed, and summarised in that article, will constitute the principal reference sequence for archaeological sites of this period in southern Iraq. In this article, while accepting the validity and importance of this achievement, I will examine how the Akkadian period should be defined and how pottery sequences should be calibrated with respect to historical periods. I will suggest that the Akkadian pottery should be calibrated by ultimate reference to the glyptic sequence, and that this results in a different dating for the strata in question.

Dr Matthews was kind enough to show us a draft of the preceding article before publication so that we could reply, for which we thank him. Our original article was intended as a review of the problem of the Early Dynastic to Akkadian transition and as a quick general overview of the WF excavation at Nippur, rather than the final statement on either. The point of the article was not to define the Akkadian Period but to make steps towards the identification of an assemblage of material culture (pottery, tablets, objects, and seals) found in levels which are dated to the historical Akkadian Period. That assemblage included pottery types, but we did not suggest that a single pottery type or a few types alone should be the basis for dating; nor would we prefer, as is implied by Matthews, to define a period by pottery as opposed to other objects. What the Nippur WF excavation gave us was a well-stratified sequence of artifacts; and we were careful when suggesting the level at which we might have entered the Akkadian (historical) period not to be adamant about the date of the pertinent level and to precede it with a “transitional” level (Level XVII) which might have been either Early Dynastic or Akkadian. Perhaps we should have been more cautious and extended that transitional label to cover Level XVI as well.

The study of ceramics in the mediaeval Middle East has traditionally been divided into two separate fields, those of archaeology and art history. Archaeologists have generally focused on the finds from their own sites, seeking only precise comparanda for publication. High-quality glazed ceramics such as lustre-wares were made in a restricted number of centres and distributed over a very large area, and thus may be a small percentage of the total ceramic assemblage. No archaeologist constrained to analysis of material from their own site has ever had the opportunity to examine the fine wares as a complete corpus. Broad all-encompassing approaches to the fine wares have only been attempted by art historians utilizing traditional connoisseurship techniques and focusing on the whole vessels which have appeared on the art market since the nineteenth century.

This paper represents the reporting of a component of a larger study that is the first attempt at providing a chronology for Middle Eastern élite glazed wares dating from about 700 to 1340 (all dates are in the “common era” or AD) based on the methodologies of archaeological ceramic study. This forms part of a comprehensive multidisciplinary study, including the application of the scanning electron microscope (SEM) with X-ray spectroscopy and petrographic analysis.

In a pair of recent articles Jocelyn Orchard has presented what is arguably the most radical interpretation of late fourth and third millennium BC cultural development in the Oman peninsula to appear since archaeological excavations began in this region during the 1950s. Her theses challenge many aspects of current thinking and as such deserve to be scrutinised by all scholars working in East and South Arabian archaeology. Moreover, given the fact that Orchard has reviewed the status of the Jamdat Nasr pottery found in the Hafit-type graves of Oman and the United Arab Emirates, it is important that Mesopotamian specialists examine what she has said about relations between Jamdat Nasr Mesopotamia and the Oman peninsula.

In an effort to extract the salient points from Orchard's 1994 and 1995 articles I shall both quote directly and paraphrase her theses in point form. In this way I believe it will be easier to see how her argument is constructed out of a series of interlocking propositions.

1. In 1994 Orchard coined the term “Al-Hajar oasis towns”, asserting that these differed from so-called “Umm an-Nar settlements”. The two settlement types, she maintained, had been conflated erroneously by scholars working in the area in part because of “the fact that on a number of sites Umm an-Nar tombs are found intermingled with al-Hajar buildings”. Orchard, however, argued that “these two types of third millennium settlement are very different in style” (Orchard 1994: 63). She characterised the Umm an-Nar buildings — in actual fact she only means tombs — as being “built wholly or in part of white limestone”, which differed from the “al-Hajar form of masonry-revetted platform construction”. “Indeed”, she wrote, speaking of the ceramic evidence for such a partitioning of third millennium culture in the Oman peninsula, “the general assumption that all third millennium wares found in the al-Hajar region represent a single culture is curious in view of the fact that three groups of wares can be distinguished, each of which is firmly associated with a different milieu (viz. Umm an-Nar tombs, settlements on Umm an-Nar and Ghanadha islands and al-Hajar settlements)” (Orchard 1994: 64).

IM 85928, the tablet published here, was discovered at Sippar during the first season of excavations conducted in 1978 by the Department of Archaeology, College of Arts, University of Baghdad. The find-spot was Room 29, under Level II. The tablet measures 12.4 × 6.3 × 4.2 cm. It was enclosed in two envelopes. The outer of the two envelopes was not inscribed. The inner envelope is inscribed on obverse and reverse with 45 lines of text. A further six labels (kišib PN) are written at random on the top and left edges. The tablet itself is inscribed on obverse and reverse with 34 lines.

The text is a juridical document which describes a case brought before King Apil-Sîn of Babylon, the grandfather of Hammurapi, by one Šamaš-šarrum and others. A certain Nūr-ilīšu has laid claim to some of the plaintiffs' property. Their case is that the houses in question were granted to them by Apil-Sîn's own grandfather, King Sumulael. The outcome of the royal hearing is that Apil-Sîn returns ownership of the properties to Šamaš-šarrum and his fellow litigants, and Nūr-ilīšu is sworn to forgo any further claim against them in perpetuity. Among the witnesses are well-known notables of Sippar, including the šangûm-priests Lipit-Ištar and Šamuḫ-Sîn, and also the king's aunt, Ayyālatum, daughter of Sumulael. The tablet is dated to “the year following that of Apil-Sîn”, which presumably means his second year.

It is clear from the royal correspondence of the Assyrian empire and from the annals of Assyrian kings that the construction of forts was an integral part of the permanent establishment of Assyrian sovereignty in newly conquered regions. Forts served as garrison outposts in formerly hostile areas and were therefore the first footholds of Assyrian expansion into recently annexed territories. They were military centres, from which campaigns and intelligence operations were conducted into and beyond the frontier, administrative centres where the daily affairs of the surrounding areas were directed and monitored, and communications hubs through which news and information were channelled. In addition to these roles, forts or garrison centres also served as conduits through which the Assyrian ideology of imperialism could be diffused into the periphery of the empire and the process of the acculturation of the “foreign” inhabitants of peripheral zones could be conducted.

Liverani has suggested that Assyrian military expansion was not a process of conquering contiguous areas, in which a clear line could be drawn between regions under Assyrian control and those that were not. Instead, the process of Assyrian imperialism was one in which “islands” of Assyrian occupation were planted in peripheral zones soon after military incursions. In regions of Assyrian expansion, “the empire was not a spread of land but a network of communications” between Assyrian strongholds. The spaces between the “islands” of this “network empire” were slowly filled in through successive military incursion. Following these conquests new forts or garrison towns were constructed at critical junctures, to protect and fortify the networks connecting the existing Assyrian strongholds, and foreign populations were forcibly settled in the surrounding countryside. Peripheral regions were not, therefore, brought under the Assyrian yoke solely through swift military action but by the gradual growth and spread of “islands” of occupation into new regions. These “islands” must have initially consisted of forts or fortified settlements such as those referred to in the royal correspondence as birtu or HAL.ṢU meaning “fort”. This system of planting Assyrian garrisons in newly conquered regions is perhaps best exemplified in Nimrud Letter 48, in which the author speaks of “establishing the foundations (of a fort)” at several junctures in his campaign in the Iranian Zagros. As the system of Assyrian strongholds became more contiguous across the landscape, the area came more firmly into the grip of the imperial administration and the stage was set for expansion further into the periphery or into regions between these pockets of Assyrian control.

An unusual little text of Sennacherib (Sm 1893), evidently a draft, seems to concern the making of a royal seal. That it is a draft and not a formal inscription is suggested by both the content of the text and its inelegant physical appearance — the tablet is roughly formed and is inscribed in a somewhat untidy hand in Neo-Assyrian script. Preliminary drafts of formal texts are not uncommon, nor are later copies, and these may be accompanied by a scribal note, often at the end of the text, indicating their purpose (see, for example, the comments in George, Iraq 48 [1986], p. 138, and the texts there listed). Our text is unique, however, in that it appears to contain directions to inscribe a text, followed by first and second drafts of that text.

The text has been labelled Sides 1 and 2, based upon the order in which it appears to have been written. The inscription begins with what seem to be instructions to engrave a text upon a stone, possibly a seal (Side 1: 1–2). No verb is preserved, but note that Side 1: 1 says ina UGU “[Write] upon (it) …” rather than Ša ina UGU “that which (is inscribed) upon (it)”, indicating that it is a draft, not a copy. Compare, for example, ina UGU NA4.KIŠIB SAR-ár “you write (it) upon a seal” (4R2 56 i: 10; cf. CAD K, p. 545a) versus šá ina UGU NA4.KIŠIB “that which (is inscribed) upon a seal” (Grayson, RIMA 1, A.0.78.28 rev. 13; cf. CAD K, p. 544b). What follows these instructions appears to be a draft of the text to be engraved. The latter opens with a label identifying it as Sennacherib's property, goes on to describe how he brought the stone from a city whose name is broken, and closes with a curse. This draft text takes up the remainder of Side 1 and is duplicated with some variations, presumably corrections, on Side 2. A line ruling at the bottom of Side 2 marks the end of the text.

The inscription presented here is the property of Mr and Mrs Tom White of Joplin, Missouri, USA. It was brought to the Yale Babylonian Collection by their son Mr Bracken John White for examination in October 1995, and is now on loan to the Collection. The object was bought by Bracken John White's grandfather in Baghdad around 1950. Given its importance the owners have agreed to grant me publication rights, for which I thankfully acknowledge them.

The text of the inscription is laid out in three columns on a barrel-cylinder pierced at one end only to about one third of its total length. The measurements of the cylinder are 143 × 73 mm. It is well preserved, save for some abrasion which has partly obliterated the inital signs of several lines in the third column. The cylinder consists of a previously unknown inscription of Nebuchadnezzar II recording the restoration of Emaḫ, the temple of the goddess Ninmah in Babylon.

The restoration of Emaḫ is commemorated in two other building inscriptions of Nebuchadnezzar which have long been known: one preserved on bricks, and one on cylinders. The texts of these two inscriptions are almost identical and rather short, seventeen and nineteen lines respectively. The new inscription published here is significantly longer, reaching a total of 89 lines, which lines are however shorter than those on the two previously known inscriptions. The restoration of Emaḫ is also briefly mentioned in other inscriptions of Nebuchadnezzar. Emaḫ was identified by Koldewey as the temple lying alongside the processional way Ay-ibūr-šabû on the inner side of the Gate of Ištar, across the road from the royal palace. The identification was ensured by the find in situ of building inscriptions of Assurbanipal and Nebuchadnezzar II. Emaḫ is mentioned in the topographical series TIN.TIRki = Babilu, Tablet IV, 18: é.maḫ É dbe-let-DINGIR lib-bá ká.dingir. raki “Emaḫ (is) the temple of Bēlet-ilī in Kadingirra”. As pointed out by George, the toponym Kadingirra does not refer in this context to the entire city of Babylon, but to a smaller district including the royal palace and its immediate surroundings. This information agrees with the archaeological evidence perfectly.

Die vorliegende Arbeit setzt die von Philip Watson begonnene Edition der 1982 in die Birmingham Museums and Art Gallery gekommenen Texte aus der Wellcome-Sammlung fort. Ich danke Philip Watson für die Publikationserlaubnis und ihm und seinen Kollegen und Mitarbeitern, voran David Symons, für die freundliche Aufnahme im Department of Antiquities des Museums und die Bewirtung mit vielen Tassen Tee. Den Trustees des British Museum danke ich für die Erlaubnis, unpublizierte Texte aus den Sammlungen dieses Museums zitieren zu dürfen. H. Baker, A. Bongenaar und M. Weszeli bin ich für ihre Hinweise verpflichtet.

Die folgende Liste bietet die hier behandelten neubabylonischen Texte in der Birmingham-Sammlung, geordnet nach Museumsnummern, mit Angabe der Nummer in der vorliegenden Publikation, der ehemaligen Wellcome-Nummer und sonstigen Informationen über die Herkunft der Tafeln, insbesondere über Händler oder Sammlung, aus der die Texte ursprünglich gekommen sind. In eckigen Klammern steht entsprechende Information, die nicht aus dem Museumsregister stammt.

Despite scholarly efforts that now extend over more than a century, the governing principles of Akkadian verse remain elusive. It is obviously not based, like Greek or Latin verse, on the counting and measuring of syllables. The idea that it is based on the counting of accentual peaks has a much greater immediate appeal. There are long stretches of poetic texts that seem amenable to analysis on these lines. Most scholars would be willing to recognize the existence of a “standard” Vierheber, a verse with four apparent accentual peaks, giving the sense of a balance of two against two, as in Enūma eliš I 47–50:

īpulma Mummu / Apsû imallik,

sukkallum lā māgiru / milik mummīšu:

“Hulliqamma, abī, / alkata ešīta;

urriš lū šupšuhāt, / mūšiš lū ṣallāt.”

This measure may be called “standard” because it occurs at all periods, and in many texts it predominates. But everywhere we find shorter lines interspersed, on no discernible principle, and often longer ones too. The shorter lines generally have three apparent accents, but on occasion only two, while the longer ones may have five or six. According to A. E. Housman,

To think that two and two are four

And neither five nor three

The heart of man has long been sore

And long 'tis like to be.

But what vexes the Akkadian metrician's heart, if he has one, is

To think that two and two are four

but sometimes five or three.

In his article “Babylonian Music Again”, O. R. Gumey provides a welcome update on research on the tablets concerning music of the ancient Near East. Gurney's article also has a corrective effect on a rambunctious article by Martin West that appeared shortly before. Gurney seems to me to have the musical system almost right. West, while he seems to understand the system, presents it in ways that I find illogical, and that I fear will be confusing or misleading. Furthermore, while some of West's conclusions exceed the span of even my own irresponsible imagination, some of his other conclusions seem unnecessarily restrictive, conservative, or simply old-fashioned. Here I want to assert limits of the kind and extent of musical conclusions that we can expect to draw from the available data, but also to explore the kinds of ideas that we can entertain without fear of restriction by those same data.

Gurney as well as West report with approval a new reading proposed by Th. J. H. Krispijn. There is more to be said about this reading and about its effect on our understanding of ancient Near Eastern music. Krispijn's new reading is for the text UET VII 74, for which Gurney now gives an updated transliteration (p. 102). I reproduce here Gurney's paradigms for the instructions in Chapters I (ll. 1–12) and II (ll. 13–20) of UET VII 74.

(1–12) If the sammu is (tuned as) X and the (interval) Y is not clear, you tighten the string N and then Y will be clear. Tightening.

(13–20) If the sammu is (tuned as) X and you have played an (unclear) interval Y, you loosen the string N and the sammu will be (in the tuning) Z. [Loosening].

When first interpreting this text twenty-five years ago, it was assumed that Chapter I involved loosening the strings one by one, thus shifting the whole tuning gradually downwards; and in Chapter II, tightening the strings one by one, with the reverse effect. As we then read the text, it did not specify tightening or loosening, and so the choice was arbitrary. Gurney (p. 102) blames the choice on the assumption that the text referred to the harp, whose longest and lowest string was identified as “front”, therefore (according to Nabnītu XXXII) the “first”.

The kiln furniture made for the Cuneiform Tablet Laboratory at the British Museum was nearing the end of its working life by 1992. A design project was thus undertaken to produce a kiln furniture solution that meets with the current conservation criteria, loosely based upon traditional potters' saggars. The primary innovation is a perforated refractory dish providing the same compartment throughout the firing and the desalination treatments. After three years' service the new kiln furniture's performance is assessed by comparison with the former “Inconel” firing basket and stainless-steel wire gauze equipment.