Ashurbanipal and the Secrets of the Assyrian Writing | History’s First Scripts

Imagine a forgotten world, hidden beneath the sands for thousands of years. From the cradle of ancient Mesopotamia, eight extraordinary texts have resurfaced, fragments of a once glorious library. Amidst 30,000 clay tablets, these ancient voices still echo, revealing the secrets of the Assyrian Empire, a civilization that ruled the northern lands for more than 1,500 years. At the heart of this empire stood Ashurbanipal, the last great king, a ruler unlike any other. A scholar rather than a warrior, he never led his armies into battle, yet he built one of history's most remarkable libraries. But in 612 BC, the Assyrian Empire fell. A powerful alliance of enemies stormed the capital, and the great library was engulfed in flames. It seemed that the story of Assyria had been lost forever, until 1849. In what is now Iraq, British archaeologist Austin Henry Laird uncovered the remains of this ancient archive. Ironically, it was the fire that preserved the tablets, the intense heat baking the clay, making it endure through time. Over the years, archaeologists recovered and translated more than 30,000 of these tablets. Ashurbanipal, known for his brutality, found solace not in war, but in the written word. He spent his days surrounded by clay in cuneiform, reading the very tablets his soldiers brought back from distant lands. And today, we'll step into that world, and uncover the remarkable messages left behind by the Assyrian civilization. Ashurbanipal's path to the throne, born in 685 BC, was paved with treachery and bloodshed. His grandfather, the fearsome king Sennacherib, was nearing the end of a violent reign. A reign marked by the sack of Babylon and brutal campaigns against Jerusalem. Sennacherib's eldest son, Ashur-nad-in-Shumi, seemed destined to inherit the crown, until his mysterious death threw everything into chaos. The obvious choice was Arda-Mulisi, Sennacherib's second son. But, for reasons lost to history, Sennacherib favored his younger son, Esarhaddon. This sparked a deadly rivalry. Consumed by rage, Arda-Mulisi took drastic action. On October 20th, 681 BC, he assassinated his father in his sleep, seizing the throne. But Esarhaddon wasn't ready to concede. He rallied loyalists to Sennacherib, vowing to avenge his father's murder. As Esarhaddon's army approached, Arda-Mulisi fought back, but his rebellion was swiftly crushed. Esarhaddon became king, haunted by the fratricide that brought him to power. Determined to prevent a similar fate for his own children, he initially designated his eldest son, Sin-nad-in-apli, as crown prince. However, tragedy struck again in 674 BC with Sin-nad-in-apli's untimely death. Gripped by grief and fear, Esarhaddon made a radical decision. He split the empire, creating two kingships. His second son, Shamash-shum-ukin, would rule Babylon, while his fourth son, Ashurbanipal, would inherit Assyria. In May 672 BC, the brothers were crowned together, seemingly securing the empire's future. But Esarhaddon established a crucial hierarchy. Ashurbanipal was the senior heir, and Shamash-shum-ukin pledged allegiance to him, though Ashurbanipal was not to interfere in Babylonian affairs. Shamash went to Babylon, and Ashurbanipal began his ascent to power in the House of Succession. In Assyrian culture, ensuring the crown prince's readiness was paramount, the state's highest priority. To be a truly influential king, one had to master both the bow and the pen, to be a fearsome warrior and a wise scholar. Ashurbanipal underwent rigorous training, becoming skilled in the art of war, hunting lions, expertly wielding the bow and arrow, and commanding his steed with unmatched skill. But his education extended far beyond the battlefield. He immersed himself in the ancient wisdom, mastering Sumerian and Akkadian scripts. He could decipher even the most obscure stories, fluent in all cuneiform languages. This knowledge only fueled his thirst for more. As Esarhaddon breathed his last in 669 BC, Ashurbanipal was poised to ascend the throne. He possessed not only the might of the sword and the respect of the aristocracy, but also the power of knowledge, a weapon perhaps even more formidable. Crucially, his grandmother Nakia had shrewdly secured his succession by writing the Zakutu Treaty. This treaty bound the royal family and the entire aristocracy to swear unwavering loyalty to Ashurbanipal, a powerful foundation. But as Ashurbanipal took charge, he faced the task of maintaining the empire his father had forged, a task far easier said than done. It's said that history is written by the victors, but what about the storytellers, those obsessed with preserving every detail, no matter the cost? As Ashurbanipal continued his relentless expansion, he ensured his conquests were meticulously documented, on a magnificent ten-sided prism, the Rossum Cylinder, each facet a story etched in stone, detailing his triumphs. This incredible artifact was unearthed in 1854 by Hormuzd Rossum, and you can see it today in the British Museum. To understand the events chronicled on this ancient stone, we have to go back a bit. Two years before his death in 671 BC, Esarhaddon, Ashurbanipal's father, had conquered all of Egypt from the Kushite pharaoh Taharqa. But when Esarhaddon died, the new Assyrian rule faced immediate resistance. Taharqa launched a bloody revolt, aiming to drive out the foreign invaders. After Taharqa's forces massacred the Assyrian garrison in Memphis, Ashurbanipal unleashed his army, but their army was more than just warriors. It also included scribes whose mission was to record the campaign in detail. As Ashurbanipal himself wrote on the Rossum Cylinder, he, Taharqa, entered and took residence in Memphis, the city which my own father had conquered. At these deeds, my heart became enraged, and my soul cried out. Against Egypt and Ethiopia, I directed the march. With the help of Esar, I defeated his army in a battle on the open plain. Taharqa heard of the defeat of his armies, and he went mad. He forsook Memphis and fled to save his life to Thebes, the city that I seized. Ashurbanipal's army then descended upon Thebes, subjecting the ancient city to a brutal sack. Everything of value—art, gold, and Egyptian stone tablets—was plundered. Only the diplomacy of Theban governor Mentumhat prevented the city's complete annihilation. Thebes survived, but forever scarred by the As Ashurbanipal's soldiers returned home, they carried with them more than just plunder. The Egyptian art they seized became a foundational element of Assyrian art and culture. The victory altered the look of the empire itself. Imagine Assyrian palaces adorned with Egyptian motifs, a testament to their dominance. However, while some Egyptian texts made their way to Ashurbanipal's famed library, they were primarily written on papyrus. This presented a challenge for the ages. Papyrus, being an organic material, is fragile. Over millennia, it disintegrates, returning to dust. While the Assyrians had proudly carted these scrolls back to their homeland, the fleeting nature of papyrus meant those voices of conquered Egypt slowly faded into the silence of time. Beyond the Egyptian campaign, another dramatic tale unfolds within Ashurbanipal's library, vividly depicted in the monumental relief of the Battle of Ulai. The carvings on this relief, combined with the rossum cylinder's accounts, tell a story of ambition, betrayal, and brutal retribution. It began with famine. In 655 BC, the Elamites, under King Urtak, faced starvation. Driven by desperation, they launched a desperate attack on Babylon, a move Ashurbanipal swiftly crushed, while his brother, Shamash-Shomukhin, watched passively from the sidelines. Ashurbanipal clearly doubted his brother's competence, leaving Babylon reliant on Assyrian protection. But the situation was about to get more complicated. When King Urtak died during the retreat, Elam plunged into a succession crisis. Urtak's three sons fled to Assyria, seeking refuge. However, a new leader, Tuman, seized power, shrouded in mystery, his sights set on Nineveh. He demanded Ashurbanipal extradite Urtak's sons, a request the Assyrian king refused. Tuman then made a fateful alliance, convincing Shamash-Shomukhin to betray his brother and join the Elamite cause. As the combined forces marched toward the Ulai River, Ashurbanipal's army stood ready. The ensuing battle was a massacre, the hungry Elamite army utterly destroyed. To commemorate this victory, Assyrian artisans immortalized the carnage in a series of six stone carvings. Tuman wounded, attempting to flee with his son, the final arrow striking them down, Tuman's beheading, an Assyrian warrior brandishing the severed head, the head being rushed to Nineveh, and finally Ashurbanipal and his queen dining in splendor, with Tuman's head hanging from a tree overhead. Grim scenes of violence and death line the walls of Ashurbanipal's palace, a relentless display of dominance and a warning to any who might rebel. But his brother, Shamash-Shomukhin, seemed determined to ignore the message. Perhaps the most telling artifact uncovered in Ashurbanipal's library is the tale of two brothers, a narrative that eerily anticipates the bitter conflict between Ashurbanipal and Shamash-Shomukhin. According to the text, after 16 years of pretending loyalty, Shamash-Shomukhin ultimately chose to rebel. His growing resentment was stoked by the discontent of his Babylonian subjects, who suffered under Assyrian rule, and the heavy tributes demanded in the aftermath of the Elamite wars. Forewarned by his spies, Ashurbanipal initially attempted to undermine Shamash-Shomukhin's support. He invited a Babylonian delegation to Nineveh, showering them with embroidered garments and opulent banquets, trying to sway their allegiance. Even then, Ashurbanipal sought a According to an Akkadian legend preserved within the library, called Saratra, this conflict was preordained. The legend painted Ashurbanipal as blessed from birth, destined for greatness, while Shamash-Shomukhin was cursed, his life marked by poverty and hardship. Babylon, therefore, was merely a consolation prize for the second-place brother, a vassal state meant to serve Nineveh. Enraged by this perceived injustice, Shamash-Shomukhin abandoned the usual tribute of gifts. He sent Ashurbanipal a defiant letter, a clear declaration of war. Furious, Ashurbanipal dispatched his sister Saritra to Babylon, recounting all he had done for his brother. Saritra confronted Shamash-Shomukhin, accusing him of treachery and demanding his return to Nineveh, threatening self-immolation if he refused. But Shamash-Shomukhin remained unyielding. War became inevitable. Ashurbanipal unleashed his army upon Babylon, ordering them to show no mercy. The city endured a horrific siege, its inhabitants driven to cannibalism by starvation. As Ashurbanipal's forces stormed the city, a fire engulfed Babylon. Shamash-Shomukhin is said to have perished in the flames, choosing fiery suicide over capture. While the historical accuracy of this legend remains debated, the outcome is undeniable. Ashurbanipal's army razed Babylon, plundering its sacred texts, scientific journals, censuses, and even the Babylonian creation myth itself, adding them to his already vast collection. Despite the tragic fate of Shamash-Shomukhin, not all stories salvaged from Babylon end in ashes. Some, in fact, begin with the creation of everything. Within Ashurbanipal's library lay the Enuma Elish, the sacred Babylonian creation myth. Enuma Elish, meaning When on High, tells the story of how the world came into being, not with Shakespearean verse but with a powerful narrative spanning seven clay tablets. These tablets, miraculously preserved, offer us a glimpse into the very origins of Babylonian belief. Listen to the opening lines. When on high the heaven had not been named, firm ground below had not been called by name. Those words, dating back three millennia, survived because Ashurbanipal prioritized their preservation. And now, thanks to the power of the internet, you can explore this remarkable tale yourself. It's a story that allows us to contemplate our place in the universe. It's a wonderful tale that allows us to look deep within ourselves. The Enuma Elish begins with a description of the primal universe, where the gods Apsu, freshwater, and Tiamat, saltwater, existed. From their union, the younger gods were born. But the noise of the younger gods angered Apsu, who plotted their destruction. Ea, the god of wisdom, discovered Apsu's plan and, using his magic, killed him. Grief-stricken, Tiamat unleashed an army of monsters led by Kingu to avenge Apsu. The younger gods, terrified, searched for a champion. Marduk, the patron deity of Babylon, stepped forward, but on one condition. He must become the supreme ruler of the gods. The gods agreed. Armed with incredible power, Marduk faced Tiamat in a fierce battle, defeating her and splitting her body in two to form the heavens and the earth. From this act of cosmic violence, the universe was born. The most beautiful tales are created with love and violence. With Tiamat vanquished, Marduk establishes order in the universe, charting the courses of the stars and assigning roles to the gods. From the blood of Kingu, Tiamat's champion, he creates humanity. The epic concludes with hymns of praise to Marduk, celebrating his triumph over chaos. He becomes the chief deity of the Babylonian pantheon, the others swearing allegiance to him. What's so striking about this myth is that it was born from violence. To establish order, one must often wage war. Like Marduk battling Tiamat, sometimes you have to fight for what you want. A lesson Ashurbanipal certainly took to heart, and it is through his prioritization of the arts and the preservation of these stories that we have this knowledge today. The Rasam Cylinder also details the final, brutal destruction of the Elamite kingdom, a chilling testament to Ashurbanipal's ruthlessness. As Shamash-Shumukhin's rebellion met its fiery end, Elam descended into political chaos, its leadership in constant turmoil. Humban-Haltash III inherited the unenviable task of convincing Ashurbanipal that Elam was still a force to be reckoned with. He was no match for his enemy. In 647 BC, Ashurbanipal unleashed his armies upon Elam and its capital, Susa, as Ashurbanipal boasted on the Rasam Cylinder. Susa, the great holy city, I conquered according to the word of Ashur and Ishtar. I destroyed the ziggurat of Susa. I smashed its shining copper horns. I reduced the temples of Elam to naught. Their gods, their goddesses, I scattered to the winds. The tomb of their ancient and recent kings, those tombs I devastated. I devastated the provinces of Elam and on their lands I spread salt. Ashurbanipal's actions reveal a chilling disregard for Elamite culture and history. He plundered their gold and jewelry, but more importantly, he sought to erase their very identity. The clay tablets that contained their stories, their ideas, were burned, lost to the great devourers of time and war. After that, there were very few records of the Elamites. Ashurbanipal didn't bother to govern Susa. He simply left it to crumble. Humban Haltash III was captured and sent to Assyria, where he died in obscurity. Elam collapsed entirely by 646 BC, vanishing from the historical record. And that's why what Ashurbanipal did was more damaging than one can see. As the great Elam culture disappeared, so did their side of the stories. That's why it's hard to be sure how the world was back then. The fall of Elam serves as a powerful reminder that history is so often shaped by the victors. That art, literature, and architecture can matter just as much as swords and soldiers. Ashurbanipal emerged victorious, and it was his version of the story that endured. The destruction of Susa was a tragedy, a loss for all of us. But perhaps a Sumerian myth found within Ashurbanipal's library, the Epic of Adapa, can help explain why it happened. Fragments of this story were discovered as far away as Egypt in the 1300s BC, but by 1912, three tablets from Ashurbanipal's library completed the tale. According to the myth, Adapa was a skilled fisherman who provided for the temple of Enki, Ea. One day, a storm capsized his boat, and in a rage, Adapa broke the wings of the south wind, which caused the wind to cease. This audacious act caught the attention of Anu, the supreme god, who summoned Adapa to the heavens. Ea, both Adapa's creator and protector, warned him of the potential dangers and advised him to refuse any food or drink offered, fearing treachery. Adapa followed Ea's instructions. Anu, impressed by Adapa, offered him the bread of life and the water of life, a chance at immortality. But Adapa, wary of deception, refused. Unbeknownst to Adapa, the gifts were genuine, a path to eternal life. By refusing them, he condemned himself to mortality. The people of Elam, like Adapa, weren't thinking about the long-term consequences. They weren't thinking about being remembered but were worried about immediate threats. As a result, we lost their tales. Perhaps Ashurbanipal never realized that he was being offered the bread of life, the wisdom of culture and preservation, when he chose to pursue power and conquest instead. And yet, ironically, it is because of him and the texts that endured the flames that we still speak his name today. That, perhaps, is a different kind of immortality. Following the complete destruction of Elam, Ashurbanipal's star began to fade. His health declined and he grew weaker, though his armies still brought fear to regions as distant as the Levant and the Arabian Peninsula. Yet, much of what happened after 646 BC remains cloaked in mystery. After 639 BC, only two inscriptions from Ashurbanipal are known, a stark contrast to the abundance of records from his earlier reign. In one of his last inscriptions, he lamented, I cannot do away with the strife in my country and the dissensions in my family. Disturbing scandals oppress me always. Illness of mind and flesh bow me down. Death is seizing hold upon me and bears me down. In 631 BCE, Ashurbanipal was no more. He had passed away, leaving behind only his library to carry on his legacy. Outside that library, an inscription declared, I, Ashurbanipal, King of the Universe, have placed these tablets for the future in the library at Nineveh for my life and for the well-being of my soul, to sustain the foundations of my royal name. And for twenty years, scholars from across the known world journeyed to Nineveh to read these carefully preserved texts. They came seeking enlightenment, ancient secrets, and ultimately to better themselves. But Ashurbanipal's cruel and barbaric actions had made him many enemies. The city of Nineveh and the Assyrian Empire were now targets. But Ashurbanipal's legacy wouldn't be solely defined by his grand library. The empire he ruled was teetering on the brink of collapse. Those subjugated by the Assyrians, particularly the Babylonians, yearned for freedom and the restoration of their ancient city. The Medes, fierce warriors from the east, sought to reclaim lost territories and reassert their dominance. The Scythians, nomadic horsemen, coveted the fertile lands of the empire. Fueled by these desires, an unlikely alliance formed, led by courageous leaders who struck with precision and deadly accuracy. This coalition launched a series of coordinated attacks against the Assyrians, unleashing a wave of invasions that overwhelmed the once mighty empire. The Assyrians, caught off guard by the united front, suffered defeat after defeat. Cities once considered impregnable trembled as their subjects rose up in rebellion. Panic swept through the ranks of the Assyrian army, their grip on the empire slipping with each passing day. The pinnacle of this coalition's triumph came with the siege of Nineveh, the grand capital of the Assyrian Empire. Like an impregnable fortress, Nineveh had stood tall for centuries, symbolizing Assyrian might. The coalition besieged the city, encircling it with their armies. For months they battered its defenses, cutting off its supplies and instilling fear and desperation within its walls. Finally, in 612 BCE, the inevitable day arrived. The coalition breached Nineveh's walls, unleashing their armies upon the city. Streets, once filled with the clatter of Assyrian soldiers, now echoed with the cries of the invaders. Consumed by rage, the invaders turned their fury upon Ashurbanipal's library, setting it ablaze. They wanted to erase his memory, destroy his legacy of cruelty, and silence his narcissistic claims forever. They burned it to the ground, hoping to obliterate it from existence. But in their blind rage, they overlooked one crucial detail—chemistry. As the library burned, the clay tablets reacted to the intense heat, partially baking like pottery in a kiln. This unintended consequence preserved them, allowing them to withstand the ravages of time. In their attempt to destroy all traces of Ashurbanipal, they had inadvertently made them immortal. For centuries, Ashurbanipal's library was relegated to the realm of myth, a treasure trove of lost knowledge. Civilizations rose and fell, and the memory of Nineveh faded. But in the 19th century, as Great Britain expanded its empire across the globe, the search for ancient civilizations intensified. In 1849, Austin Henry Laird, a British archaeologist, led an expedition to Nineveh, tasked with uncovering whatever remnants of the Assyrian Empire remained. It wasn't long before Laird discovered the royal palace of Sennacherib, buried beneath the rubble. The chambers I am describing appear to have been a depository for such documents, Laird exclaimed. To the height of a foot or more from the floor, they were entirely filled with them. Some entire, but the greater part broken into fragments. Though fascinated by the Assyrians, Laird soon abandoned archaeology for the allure of British politics, leaving his Ottoman assistant, Hormuzd Rassam, in charge. Rassam continued the dig, unearthing countless tablets, including the Enuma Elish, the Epic of Adapa, and the Rassam Cylinder. With the permission of the Ottoman Empire, Rassam shipped the tablets back to the British Museum. But like the ancient Assyrian soldiers looting Babylon, he failed to document their original locations. This lack of documentation continues to plague archaeologists to this day. The tablets were written in Akkadian and cuneiform languages, known only to a few specialists. That's when a young George Smith entered the picture. By day, Smith worked as a banknote engraver, but by night he immersed himself in the British Museum's collection, becoming a self-taught cuneiform expert. His passion was noticed, and he was hired to piece together the fragmented tablets. One day, while sorting through the fragments, Smith stumbled upon a Though incomplete, Smith recognized its significance. After presenting his discovery to Prime Minister William Gladstone, Smith was sponsored to travel to Nineveh to find the missing fragments. Miraculously, within days of arriving, he unearthed the missing pieces, revealing what would become known as the oldest extant work of literature in human history, the Epic of Gilgamesh. One of the most remarkable discoveries from Ashurbanipal's library was the Epic of Gilgamesh, a story that predates even the Assyrian Empire itself, dating back to 2100 BCE. While various versions of this epic exist, the most complete is the standard Babylonian version found within Ashurbanipal's collection. Through George Smith's meticulous work, eleven clay tablets were recovered, piecing together this ancient tale. The first tablet introduces Gilgamesh, the two-thirds god, one-third man, king of Uruk. Despite his divine heritage, Gilgamesh is a tyrant, forcing men to fight in dangerous games and claiming the lord's right to sleep with women on their wedding nights. The people of Uruk cry out to the gods for deliverance. The gods create Enkidu, a wild man equal in strength to Gilgamesh. Initially uncivilized, Enkidu is tamed by a temple priestess and comes to understand the fate of humanity. He hears of Gilgamesh's transgressions and challenges him to a fight. After a fierce battle, Gilgamesh emerges victorious, but the two warriors find mutual respect. Gilgamesh proposes a perilous journey to the Cedar Forest to slay the monstrous demi-god Humbaba, despite Enkidu's warnings. In the third tablet, they seek advice from Gilgamesh's mother, the goddess Ninson, and begin to worship the sun god Shamash. In the fourth, they venture into the Cedar Forest, where Gilgamesh is terrifying dreams. In the fifth, they confront Humbaba, who threatens to destroy them. Encouraged by Enkidu and aided by Shamash, they defeat the monster, solidifying their reputation as heroes. In the sixth tablet, the goddess Ishtar, impressed by Gilgamesh's valor, attempts to seduce him. When he rejects her advances, she unleashes the bull of heaven upon Uruk, causing devastation. Enkidu and Gilgamesh slay the bull, offering its heart to Shamash. Enkidu then hurls one of the bull's hindquarters at the enraged Ishtar. The city rejoices, but Enkidu has a foreboding dream of his impending doom. In the seventh tablet, Enkidu learns of his imminent demise, setting the stage for the epic's exploration of mortality and the search for meaning. For twelve days, Enkidu suffers, dying an unheroic death while Gilgamesh remains in denial. In the eighth tablet, Gilgamesh laments his friend's passing, calling upon all to mourn. On the ninth tablet, terrified by his own mortality, Gilgamesh seeks out Utnapishtim, a survivor of the great flood, to learn the secret of eternal life. In the tenth tablet, Gilgamesh meets Urshanabi, who guides him to Utnapishtim. Utnapishtim challenges Gilgamesh's quest. Gilgamesh, where are you roaming? You will never find the eternal life that you seek. When the gods created mankind, they also created death, and they held back eternal life for themselves alone. Enjoy your life, spend it in happiness, not despair. That is the best way for a man to live. On the eleventh and final tablet, Gilgamesh says to Utnapishtim, I looked at you, but your appearance is not strange. You are like me. You yourself are not different. You are like me. Utnapishtim recounts his survival of the great flood and how he was granted immortality by the gods. He explains his origins as well as his path to godhood. But Gilgamesh, desperate for immortality, accepts Utnapishtim's challenge to stay awake for six days and seven nights, but fails to succeed. He falls asleep immediately. How can one achieve immortality if they cannot stay awake for a week? Defeated, Gilgamesh returns to Uruk, destined to die. Though he accepts his death, his story will never truly die, and his legacy will remain. The Epic of Gilgamesh, preserved on eleven clay tablets within Ashurbanipal's library, continues to resonate with us today. And so too will Ashurbanipal remain immortal in our minds. Though he died millennia ago, his legacy as a warrior scholar endures. From his conquests and destruction, to his preservation of knowledge, Ashurbanipal's life was one of controversy, bloodshed, and theft. But without him, we would never know the stories of Gilgamesh, the conflicts of Sennacherib and Aesirhattan, or the destruction of the Elamites. Ashurbanipal's library continues to spark curiosity and fuel research to this day. At the University of Pennsylvania, the Ashurbanipal library project is digitally recreating cuneiform tablets, making these ancient texts accessible to scholars around the world. These researchers are not only preserving well-known stories, but also deciphering practical informational texts. Introducing Assyrian medicine, healthcare. Fit for a King program is exploring medical tablets to uncover ancient medical practices. Imagine what they might find. Another project, reading the library of Ashurbanipal, sponsored by the British Museum and Ludwig Maximilian University, is piecing together how the library functioned. There is a lot of work done on the subject, but even though Ashurbanipal has long since vanished from the world, his library endures, granting him a legacy that borders on immortality. Thank you for watching this video all the way to the end. We'd love to hear your thoughts. Share them in the comments below. Your opinion truly matters to us. And if you enjoyed this journey through history, don't forget to like the video and subscribe to the channel, so you never miss our next step through the layers of the past.