Where did they come from? Asia Minor, says Herodotus, and more specifically, from Lydia. ‘The observation of lightning, the inspection of the entrails of victims by the haruspices’, writes Raymond Bloch (L’Art et la civilisation étrusques. Plon, 1955),125 forms an essential part of the Etruscan discipline, and with this we are irresistibly brought back towards the Asiatic East’.
Adventurous Hypotheses
The Etruscan alphabet, issued from the Greek alphabet, does not present any particular difficulties. We know the phonetics thanks to the names of the gods and heroes figuring in the votive inscriptions. But our knowledge stops there: we read Etruscan without understanding it.
The researchers have more than 10,000 inscriptions at their disposal, the most famous of which is the ‘book of the mummy’ (1,500 words written on the bandages of a mummy preserved at the Museum of Zagreb).126 But these inscriptions are very short. Beyond proper names, we have only been able to translate the words which recur most frequently, like clan, ‘daughter’, puia, ‘woman’, lupu, ‘he is dead’, etc. Unfortunately, we do not have any bilingual document, like the celebrated Rosetta Stone that allowed us to decipher the Egyptian hieroglyphs.
Hypotheses are legion. The works of Professor Pallotino from the University of Rome, of Raymond Bloch and Michel Lejeune, to cite but a few, are well known. But the results are deceiving. The Danish linguist Louis Hjemslev, in his book on Le langage (Minuit, 1966),127 rejects the classification of Etruscan into any of the six great linguistic families of the world.
In 1961, Zacharie Mayani, an orientalist trained at l’Ecole du Louvre and at the Sorbonne, published a work entitled Les Etrusques commencent à parler.128
‘Contrary to what certain authors think’, he claims, ‘the Etruscan language is an Indo-European language. The Etruscans may well have come from Asia Minor, but this does not make them “Oriental”’.
Published simultaneously in New York and Moscow, the book was a sensation. A year later, Mayani revealed the details of his conclusions at the International Albanological Conference of Tirana. Some scholars immediately approved. Others (like R. P. Raymond Bloch) violently denounced his ‘adventurous hypotheses’ and his ‘extrapolations’.
In La fin du mystère étrusque,129 Mayani took up the case again. He studied the inscriptions discovered between 1963 and 1968, maintaining his position and participating in a war against the proponents of ‘autochthonism’.
‘Those who fight against the recognition of Etruscan as an Indo-European language’, he says, ‘act under the influence of a prejudice. They do not constitute a school, but a sect’.
Towards 1,300 BCE, Aegean Asia Minor (Ionia, Lydia, Anatolia, Phrygia, Caria) was partly populated by Thracians and Illyrians from the Balkans. ‘The Macedonian Bryges thus became, in Anatolia, the Phrygians. And it is in Anatolia that a tradition retained by Herodotus situates the Etruscans’ point of departure for Italy’. As a consequence, the Proto-Etruscans were no other than the ‘Tursha’, an Indo-European population who emigrated from the Balkans to the territory of present-day Turkey during the period of the Trojan War. They would participate in the great invasions of the ‘Sea Peoples’ and share their destiny. Embarking upon the assault of Rameses III’s Egypt under the leadership of an aristocracy from the north, the ‘Tursha’ withdrew, after being defeated, to Sardinia, Sicily, and northwest Italy. And the myth of Aenaeus, related by Virgil, intervened as a myth of foundation concurrent with the account of Romulus and Remus, which would guard the memory of this distant past.
In order to demonstrate that ‘Etruscan exudes an archaic, Balkan Indo-Europeanism’, Zacharie Mayani appealed to three sources: the Illyrian words that we find today in the names of people and places; the dialectical survivals of the ‘Illyro-Etruscan’ language, notably Apulian; and lastly, Albanian.
‘Albania’, he recalls ‘is ancient southern Illyria. The Albanians have been there for at least two millennia. The numerous and incontestable Illyrian words are found as much in Etruscan as in Albanian. These elements allow us, in large measure, to decipher the Etruscan language.’
The work also contains a glossary. The author cites several hundred Etruscan words like clen, ‘to exist’, atranes, ‘fathers’, ha, ‘to eat’, iu, ‘god’, setirune, ‘calf’, mir, ‘beautiful’, etc., which come close to the Albanian words having the same meaning: klēnë, atër, ha, hie, shterunë, mir.
He then attempts to decipher certain inscriptions. The results that he obtains correspond very little to the traditional idea that we have of the Etruscans. These people, who are said to be severe, instilled with sorrow, scarcely concerned with anything but the cult of the dead, would have inscribed on the recently discovered fragments messages such as ‘Here is life’, ‘Drink to endure’ (pi peri snati) or ‘place yourself among the wine-drinkers and you will smash the underworld’!
The thesis of the Indo-European character of Etruscan does not properly belong to Mayani. It has also been sustained by F. Schachermeyer (Etrüskische Frügeschichte, 1929),130 G. Buonamici (Studi etruschi, 1921),131 Paul Kretschmer (Die Herkunft der Umbrer, 1933),132 Paulé, Muller, Deeke, etc. They have been taken up again by the Belgian Sanskritist, Carnoy, author of an important Dictionnaire étymologique de proto-indo-européen133 (1955), by the American philologist Ernst Pulgral (The Tongues of Italy) and, more recently, by the Bulgarian, Vladimir Georgiev.
At the beginning of 1971, in fact, Moscow’s Tass Agency announced that Georgiev had ‘definitively penetrated the secret of the Etruscan language’. But then it said no more.
Vladimir Georgiev started writing on the Etruscan problem in 1941–42 in collaboration with Italian researchers. In the 1960s, he published a variety of articles in the journal of the Academy of Sofia, Balkansko Ezikoznanie.134 He is also the author of an Introduzione alla storia delle lingue indeuropee135 (L’Ateneo, 1966), released in Italy as part of the collection of the Centre of Mycenaean Studies by the University of Rome.
The interest of the works of Georgiev resides in the fact that their author does not base his approach solely on phonology (relationship to consonance), but also on morphological facts (relationship to structure).
In his opinion, Etruscan would be a kind of ‘late Hittite dialect’. This is an assertion that we can accept with some nuances: Etruscan is perhaps, ultimately, a late form of an Indo-European language from Asia Minor, of which Hittite itself would be one of the dialects.
Zacharie Mayani does not hesitate to conclude: ‘the Etruscan people were of a lively and spontaneous character, alongside the Greeks and Romans, a remarkable pioneer of western civilisation’.
*
La fin du mystère étrusque, a study by Zacharie Mayani.136 Maloine, 452 pages.
*
Despite the constant progress of Etruscology, agreement is far from being reached among the specialists in regards to both the origin of the Etruscans as well as the decipherment of their language. On this last point, two methods are employed: the first, deductive, seeks to relate Etruscan to already-known languages of the same script. The second, inductive, consists in engaging similar formulas or phrases in order to extract, using the comparative method, the meaning and value of the words. But until now, each remains sure in its position. A good exposé on the status of the argument can be found in the book by James Wellard, The Search for the Etruscans (Thomas Nelson, London, 1973; pp. 170–92).
A Corpus inscriptionnorum etruscorum (CIE)137 has appeared in instalments since 1893. This undertaking is realised under the aegis of the Academy of Berlin, with the assistance of the Institute of Etruscan Studies in Florence.
Carthage versus Rome
In The Interpretation of Dreams, Freud relates how when he was a child, he identified with Hannibal. ‘When we studied the Punic Wars’, he writes, ‘my sympathy went not to the Romans, but to the Carthaginians’. For a long time he recalled ‘the scene where Hamilcar swore to his son, in front of his house altar, that he would take his vengeance upon the Romans’.
‘Since then’, he adds, ‘Hannibal held a great place in my imagination’.
It also held a place in that of Jean-Paul Brisson, a historian influenced by Marxism whose heart beats for Carthage and for whom no love is lost for the Romans.
Carthage (Quart hadasht, ‘the new city’) was founded in 814 (traditional date), or more probably during the seventh century BCE, by the Phoenician populations from Tyr. These populations were lead, according to legend, by Elissa (Dido of the Aeneid), the sister of King Pygmalion. Today the site is found in the large suburban area of Tunis. It is a peninsula that terminates in a rocky promontory rising 150 meters above the sea.
The Phoenicians, a people of the Canaanite group with the same origin as the Hebrews of the pre-Mosaic period, had previously established other cities in the region: notably Hadrumetum and Utica. At Carthage they associated with the people of Cyprus. ‘The Punics were not averse to marriage with foreigners, explains Madeleine Hours-Miédan. Orientals, Greeks banished from their own country, the inhabitants of Malta and Sicily, all found a warm welcome among them’. All, however, ‘were deeply bound by a civilisation, a religion, and a language that was Semitic’ (Carthage, PUF, 1959).
The cults celebrated at Byblos and at Sidonia also flourished at Carthage. The Punics adored the goddess Tanit, emanation of the Great Mother, and above all Ba’al Hammon (‘the master of stelae’), identified with El, chief of the Phoenician pantheon.
It is to Ba’al that the priests, the Kohen, sacrificed the firstborn sons or daughters according to Canaanite tradition. The children were burnt alive at night in the arms of the statue, amidst the din of dancing and the sounds of lyres and tambourines. Urns containing their ashes were subsequently placed in the Tophet (sanctuary) of Salammbó, in the suburbs of the city; thousands have been discovered. Justin has told us that, by means of these sacrifices (molk), Carthage sought to assure its prosperity.
Other deities inhabit a baetylus — a stone anointed with oil — like the one venerated today at Mecca. No images of this have come to us. The religion forbids figurations being cut from wood or stone, a prohibition which is found in the Bible.
Luxury and ‘Gravitas’
For Carthage, city of merchants, commerce is at once a means and an end. Their entire civilisation organises itself around this preoccupation. ‘Here the Phoenicians came, those avaricious seamen, with a thousand trinkets in their black vessel’, writes Homer in the Odyssey (XV.415). These merchants are bold. They do not recoil from any expedition as long as it helps them gain exclusivity in the coveted markets, such as those of tin or gold. They take economic control of Sardinia, the Balearic Islands, Malta, and southern Sicily. They soon establish stalls at Gades and at Lixos, on both sides of the Straights of Gibraltar, as well as in Crete and the Nile delta. One of their navigators, Hannon, cruised from Africa to the Gulf of Guinea. From his voyage he brought back the skins of two female pygmies which he hung up like trophies in the temple of Tanit.
Carthage, Hours-Miédan adds, does not seek colonies, but points of sale: ‘They desire first and foremost the flow of merchandise to raise the level of life of those whom it administers, thus creating and expanding their needs’.
This ‘luxurious’ attitude contrasts with the rigour, the gravitas, and the sobriety of Senatorial Rome.
For many centuries, the two cities ignored each other. One was continental, European, and warlike; the other maritime, African, and mercantile. But Rome and Carthage, precisely because of everything that distinguished them, could only clash. In addition, the Carthaginian thalassocracy had extended itself to the Greek coasts. In Sicily, the disputes between the Greek and Punic cities were incessant. Rome, having conquered Magna Graecia, also had its eyes on Sicily. A rivalry between Messana, its ally, and Syracuse, backed by Carthage, forced them to intervene. In total, three wars, known as the ‘Punic’ wars, took place between the two rivals. Rome imposed itself and its victory was complete.
The most celebrated war was the second, that of Hannibal.
Peace was restored in 241. During the truce which followed, the general, Hannibal Barca, one of the Carthaginian leaders, became the object of great popularity: he had subdued some revolting mercenaries. This plebeian support would trouble the Senate of Carthage, who in the past were always mistrustful of the military. (‘The Senate’, writes Hours-Miédan, ‘had taken the attitude of resolving exterior difficulties by diplomatic transactions and financial sacrifices, only using military power when constrained by force’).
Hamilcar had to go into exile in Spain. He embarked upon the conquest of the hinterland and carved himself an Empire.
His son, Hannibal, raised with hate for the Romans, inherited the command of the army at the age of twenty-seven. He immediately resumed hostilities.
In 219, in contempt of the treaties, he attacked the city of Saguntum, protected by Rome and situated north of the Ebro (the Jucar), which he had vowed not to cross.
Besieged, the city soon became indefensible. The leaders of the Roman faction were put to death. The others surrendered. Negotiations opened. The Punics gained the advantage by surprising the vigilance of the guards, and put the inhabitants to the sword. To this day, the bad faith of the Carthaginians has become proverbial in Rome, where Good Faith (Bona Fides) was precisely the object of a cult.
An excellent strategist trained in the school of Greek military leaders, Hannibal soon exploited his advantage. He traversed the Pyrenees and southern Gaul, crossing the Rhone and then the Alps. At Trebia and lake Trasimene (217) he crushed the Romans. Exhausted by his victory, he withdrew to Capua where he awaited reinforcements. But the Senate of Carthage, envious of his success, denied him. His brother, Hasdrubal, who attempted to help him, was killed in 207 on the borders of Metaurus. Hannibal subsequently occupied the south of Italy. Rome opposed him with the scorched earth strategy.
Shortly thereafter, Scipion, previously in Africa, launched an offensive against Carthage. Changing their attitude, the Senate called Hannibal to their aid. He abandoned Calabria, where he was entrenched, and attempted to carry out the order. But his efforts were in vain. Conquered at Zama in 202, he had to ask for peace. (A refugee in Syria with King Antiochus, he attempted to unite all the enemies that Rome had amassed in the orient. His plan having failed, hunted by the Romans, he would kill himself in Bithynia in 183).
Carthage, twice submitted, is obligated to completely destroy its fleet and to dismiss its army.
The End of Punic Power
Not for very long. Having resumed its commercial activities, the Phoenicians soon recovered their former splendour. According to Strabo, its population increased to 700,000 souls. During a voyage through Africa, Cato the Elder (Marcus Porcius) becomes concerned; he is disturbed to see the Romans neglecting the aristocratic and martial virtues that created their grandeur. Upon his return, he released his famous cry:
‘Carthage must be destroyed’.
The hostilities resume in 149. This time, things are very quick. Attacked by Scipion Aemilianus, Carthage cannot resist the organised assault of the legions. Its troops are decimated, its navies burned. In 146, the city is besieged, taken, and razed. The proud Punic power has seen its day.
The remaining fortifications and the citadel (Byrsa) were discovered in 1949 by General Duval.
Jean-Paul Brisson, 56 years of age, Professor at Nantes, had previously published an apology of sorts for Spartacus (Club français du livre, 1959), and then, with Maspéro, an essay on Virgil (1966). In 1969, he had also approached the question of the Punic Wars in a collective work published under his direction (Mouton, La Haye).
The Example of Regulus
Despite a certain erudition, his bias is obvious. It also radiates throughout his conclusion, where Brisson admits that in his eyes, the work of the historian can only have one object: ‘To recall that Punic Carthage was far more valuable than Latin Rome’.
To be explicit, the author thus proclaims himself to be aligned with the Carthaginians,
who he identifies with in order to demonstrate ‘pacifism’ and ‘fairness’, which he contrasts to the ‘democratic ideal’ of Antiquity’s Prussia, Ancient Rome. He reproaches Cato for having supressed the cult of Dionysus, which opposes itself to the ethic of the city. (‘Men and women, rich and poor, masters and slaves find themselves with equal rights before a god who does not make any distinction between them’). All of his judgements are oriented to the future. The Romans are ‘cynical’, and their ‘bellicose pretensions’ naturally prefigure European imperialism. The Senate is attached to its ‘privileges’. The aristocracy fosters ‘ambitious plans’. The only thing that animates them is ‘the thirst for a certain military prestige’, etc.
‘For the Roman aristocracy, members of the Senate, and citizens of the first class of the census’, writes Brisson, ‘war is the essential source of necessary prestige’. Carthage, by contrast, completely occupied with its markets, ‘engages in war without enthusiasm’.
Generations of schoolchildren have seen the same example of devotion and loyalty in consul Marcus Attilus Regulus. He had been imprisoned during the first Punic War by Xanthippus, a former Spartan mercenary in the service of Carthage. In 250, the Punics sent him to Rome to negotiate an exchange of captives, upon his promise to return after he had placed himself in their hands. Regulus would advise the Senate against softening and yielding. Then, faithful to his word, he returned to Carthage against the advice of the priests and his own family. The Carthaginians, after cutting off his eyelids, threw him in a barrel full of nails to die.
Brisson of course claims that this account is only a ‘legend’. Better, he sees in Regulus ‘a particularly distinctive representative of a certain form of foolish arrogance’.
In order to maintain balance, he also denounces the Punic oligarchy, which he contrasts against Hannibal’s brilliance.
Peace would have been possible, he concludes naively, if Rome had ceased to be Rome, ‘in order to take the model of Carthage’.
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