Only in Roman times do we have explicit mentions of Phoenician libraries or archives, associated with the two main metropolises, Tyre and Carthage. Writing in the later part of the first century ce, Josephus mentions the archives of Tyre, which were a source for the local historians he consulted (e.g., Menander of Ephesos). As for Carthage, we are told that the contents of its library (bibliotheke) were dispersed and mostly lost after the city’s capture in 146 bce by Scipio Aemilianus, when the collection was given away to the Numidian kings (Miles 2010: 352–56; on Numidian scholarship, Roller 2003). Sallust, who was governor of Africa Nova a century later, talks about the “Punic books” kept by the Numidian king Hiampsal (Sallust, Jugurtha 17.7) and Plutarch (first–second century ce) alludes to “a sacred parchment” that survived the destruction of the city, allegedly found by one Sulla, a Carthaginian interlocutor in his treatise (Plut. De fac. 26–30). Indeed, documents in Phoenician continued to be produced after the fall of Carthage, if we take literally the “Phoenician books” (libri punici) mentioned by Augustine of Hippo in the fifth century ce (Ep. 17). Unlike the Levantine coast, where Phoenician language was probably not alive after the first century ce, in the west, despite the Romanization of North Africa, it is well attested in inscriptions until late antiquity.
Even if Plutarch’s “sacred parchment” may be a literary trope, it is interesting that Phoenician writings were part of a literary legacy that Greeks and Romans fantasized about. Phoenicians are regularly associated with the literary trope of the discovered old manuscript that preserves arcane wisdom—for example, in the complex tradition about the Trojan War diary of Dictys of Crete (imagined to be written in “Phoenician letters”), and in the narrative of the fragmentary novel The Wonders Beyond Thule. Phoenician motifs were popular in the realm of the novel—for instance, in the Aethiopika by Heliodoros of Emesa (who famously labels himself “a Phoenician”), in Iamblichos’s Babyloniaka, and in the fragmentary novels Phoenikika by Lolianos (Ní Mheallaigh 2013; Bowie 1998; for the reception of Phoenicians in later antiquity, see chapter 45, this volume).
Genres and Works
Cosmogonies
Cosmogonies and theogonies account for most of the quotations of Phoenician literature by Greek authors. As a genre, cosmogonic literature goes back to the ancient Near East (attested in Mesopotamia, Anatolia, Syria, and Egypt), from where it influenced Greek creation stories, such those in Hesiod’s Theoogny and the Orphic cosmogonies (López-Ruiz 2010). Fragments of Phoenician cosmogonies are transmitted in Greek mostly by philosophers (especially Neoplatonists), and also by early Christian writers who used these narratives polemically to elaborate their own theological views.
The Neoplatonist philosopher Damaskios (fifth–sixth centuries ce) transmits two Phoenician cosmogonies, one attributed to “the Sidonians” and one to Mochos, a wise man of undetermined date but also mentioned by other authors:
The Sidonians, according to the same writer [i.e., Eudemos] set before everything Time, Desire, and Mist, and they say that from the union of Desire and Mist, as dual principles, emerged Air and Breeze, implying that Air is the unmixed part of the intelligible, whereas Breeze, moving out of it [i.e., of Air], is the vital pattern (prototype) of the intelligible. And they say that, in turn, from these two an egg was born, corresponding, I think, to the intelligible intellect. Outside of Eudemos, I found the mythology of the Phoenicians, according to Mochos, to be as follows: in the beginning there was Aither and Air, two principles themselves, from whom Oulomos was born, the intelligible god, himself, I think, the peak of the intelligible. From him, they say, mating with himself, was born first Chousoron, the opener, then an egg.
(Damaskios, De principiis 125c; trans. López-Ruiz 2009 = BNJ 784, modified)
We owe to another Neoplatonist philosopher, Porphyry (third century ce), the longest excerpt of Phoenician literature. This comes from the first book of the Phoenician History by Philon of Byblos, who wrote in the early second century ce in Greek (Kaldellis and López-Ruiz 2009 = BNJ 790; López-Ruiz 2010: 94–125; Attridge and Oden 1981; Baumgarten 1981; López-Ruiz 2017a). Philon’s History is only one of the many works attributed to him on various historical, literary, and grammatical matters. The way in which Philon begins his comprehensive history of the Phoenicians, with a cosmogony and early history of the gods and first human inventions, is typical of local histories in the Near East (e.g., the Pentateuch, Josephus, Berossos, Menetho). Owing to the transmitters’ interests (a Platonist philosopher and a Christian bishop), we have only the opening sections, in which Philon reinterprets his amalgam of mythological themes. He rationalizes this mythology Euhemeristically—that is, by positing myths as early historical events and the gods as early kings and culture heroes. He uses this as a historicizing alternative to the allegorical interpretation of myth, thus engaging with intellectual debates ongoing since Hellenistic times (on Hellenization in Phoenicia, see chapter 8, this volume). But he uses polemics and interpretatio to channel genuine Canaanite and Phoenician traditions into his narrative, and always as a preamble to his account of later, better-documented periods (which we have lost). Studies of Philon’s Phoenician cosmogony that correlate it to earlier Northwest Semitic testimonies show that he did have access to and engaged with local traditions, some of which had deep roots in ancient Canaanite culture. He can be studied from a Phoenician, as well as from a Graeco-Roman, point of view (e.g., see chapter 44, this volume). In the end, an author such as Philon was part of a Roman provincial elite in a region already culturally Hellenized. Yet in his Phoenician History, he writes as a Phoenician and about Phoenician matters, presenting his contents as proof of the precedence of Phoenician culture (López-Ruiz 2017a):
(28) It happened that we … saw the inconsistencies that existed among the Greeks, about which I have written three books entitled Paradoxical Inquiries. (29) … It is necessary to explain in advance … that the most ancient among the barbarians, especially the Phoenicians and the Egyptians, from whom all other people borrowed extensively, regarded as the greatest gods those who had made inventions that made life easier or who had benefited the nations in some way.
(Eusebios, Praeparatio Evangelica 1.9.26–28; trans. Kaldellis and López-Ruiz 2009 = BNJ 790 F1, modified.)
These late sources are the tip of the iceberg of a larger corpus of Phoenician cosmogonies which had been in dialogue with the Greek genre for centuries. Northwest Semitic features in the Hesiodic and Orphic cosmogonies indeed point to a long and complex awareness of Levantine and other Near Eastern traditions (including Mesopotamian, Hittite, and Egyptian), at least in part through Phoenician mediation. The fact that the Greeks referred to Phoenicia as a source of wisdom on these matters is telling (e.g., in traditions about Pythagoras and Thales, see López-Ruiz 2010: 192–94). We could mention here again Plutarch’s discussion with the Carthaginian about cosmology and Pausanias’s dialogue with a Sidonian at a sanctuary at Aigion about the nature of some gods (Paus. 7.23.7–8).
Foundation Stories and Other Myths
A series of foundation stories, transmitted in Classical sources, contain elements of Phoenician or Carthaginian traditions, indicating that this type of narrative was cultivated by the Phoenicians. Not surprisingly, the surviving narratives revolve around the three main points of their Mediterranean expansion from east to west: Tyre, Carthage, and Gadir.
Although Tyre is the oldest of these cities, stories about its foundation reach us through sources later than those about her colonies. In his Dionysiaka, Nonnos of Panopolis in Egypt (fifth century ce) inserts various mythological stories shaped by Greek, Roman, and Egyptian traditions. When Dionysos (Bakchos) reaches the site of Tyre, Herakles tells him a bizarre story, which nonetheless contains Phoenician elements that seem to come from earlier versions. The god Herakles, representing Tyrian Melqart (“city-king”), proclaims himself as the founder, who guided the earliest settlers through an oracle. He had commanded them to find and rein in the wandering Ambrosial Rocks, which would be
the platform for the Tyrian city’s mainland and offshore island. On one of the rocks there was an olive tree in eternal fire, on top of which stood a well-made bowl, as well as an eagle and a snake in a permanent stand-off. The Tyrians needed to sacrifice the eagle to Poseidon and build their city on the fixed rocks (Dion. 40.423–538).
The “Ambrosial Rocks” perhaps reflect the importance of betyls, pillars, and stelai in Phoenician religion (on aniconism, see Doak 2015). Herodotos (2.44) reports two stelai in the temple of Herakles in Tyre, and in the third century ce, the Ambrosian Rocks are depicted with an olive tree on coins minted by the city. Scholars have also suggested that the “Pillars of Herakles” at the other end of the Mediterranean in Gibraltar symbolically connected Gadir and its temple back to Tyre (see chapter 40, this volume). But the most obvious Phoenician element in this story is Herakles himself. As civilizing figures, Melqart and Herakles were assimilated and became icons of protection and legitimacy for new settlements (Bonnet 1988). Moreover, Melqart is an oracular deity in Phoenician tradition (unlike the Greek Herakles). His oracle to the Tyrians is crucial in Gadir’s foundation story too, and we know that Hannibal himself visited the temple to receive a dream-oracle before his war against Rome (Livy 21.21.9; Miles 2010: 252–53).
In Nonnos’s narrative, a deity called Aion “bred” the Tyrians, seemingly the same “time-eternal” figure as appears in other Phoenician cosmogonies (Aion, Oulomos). These humans, in turn, were formed from “unplowed unsown mud,” a motif that appears also in Philon of Byblos’s cosmogony; this was apparently an original element of Phoenician tradition. This idea that humankind came from mud or putrefaction was mentioned by later Christian authors who possibly had access to Philon (Efthymiadis and López-Ruiz 2014). Also interesting is that Herakles instructed the Tyrians to build the first ships, gesturing toward the reputation of Canaanites and Phoenicians as skilled sailors. The narrative about “first inventors” and culture-heroes is also well rooted in the Near East, from the Hebrew Bible (e.g., Noah, Cain, and Abel) to Mesopotamia (e.g., Adapa), and is also found in Philon’s Phoenician History (Praeparatio Evangelica 1.10.6–14). In some sources, Herakles was also depicted as the legendary inventor of the typically Phoenician craft of purple-dying (e.g., Gregory Nazianzenos, Oration 4.108).
Finally, Philon transmitted a different version of Tyre’s foundation from that of Nonnos. He posited as founders of the city two brothers, Samemroumos (“High-in-Heaven”) and Ousoos (of unknown meaning). They were children of “Genos” and “Generation,” who initially settled Phoenicia and who in turn descended from Aion (“Time-Eternal”) and Protogonos (“First-Born”) (PE 1.10.9–11). Both versions contain Phoenician elements and share features such as the idea of autochthony, the figure of Aion, the invention of sailing, the worship of stelai, and the appearance of a tree and fire.
A less mythologized foundation story is transmitted by Strabo about Gadir (Str. 3.5.5). This brief narrative posits a number of failed attempts by the Tyrians to establish Gadir. They were following Melqart’s oracular instruction to settle beyond the “Pillars of Herakles”; after performing unfavorable sacrifices at two different points along the coast, they find the propitious spot, where they founded the city and the temple. Gadir’s temple of Melqart became a famous landmark visited by Greeks and known as a Heraklion (cf. Str. 3.5.5). The elements of the oracle, the centrality of Herakles–Melqart, and the allusion to sacred pillars are features that mirror the foundation of the Tyrian motherland; indeed, Tyre maintained strong bonds with its colonies through religious and economic networks (Roller 2006: 57–60; Álvarez Martí-Aguilar 2018).
But the most famous colony of Tyre is Carthage, and we have two almost identical accounts of its foundation in Latin sources. The more detailed is in Justin’s summary of Pompeius Trogus’s work (Epitome of Trogus’ Philippic Histories 18.4–6). This must reflect a tradition circulating in the Carthaginian realm in Hellenistic times, whence it came to Trogus’s history (written under Augustus). According to the Greek historical tradition, Carthage was founded in 814 bce, which roughly corresponds with the earliest archaeological evidence. The story in Justin/Trogus revolves around Elissa as a founding figure: a Tyrian princess who flees her greedy brother king Pygmalion, who had murdered her husband (the priest of Herakles—i.e., Melqart). With help from a Cypriot contingent associated with the cult of Jupiter and Venus (in Phoenician, Baal Hammon and Astarte), she reaches the land of the future Carthage, where she astutely negotiates the acquisition of land. Confronted with the greediness of the native king Hiarbas, who presses her to make a marriage alliance, Elissa sacrifices herself on a pyre.
Since Carthaginian literary texts have not survived, it is difficult to distinguish original elements in the story from the Greek and later Roman versions. At a minimum, ties with the city’s metropolis Tyre are essential to the story, and the names Pygmalion, Elissa, and Acerbas are adaptations of Phoenician names (Pumayyaton, Elisha/Alashya, Zakarbaal). Moreover, allusions to similar events and characters were recorded in the Annals of Tyre (according to Josephus), and the servants of Astarte (sacred prostitutes) who accompany Elissa, as well as the inherited system of priesthood, are Levantine. The Cypriot element in the story also points to Phoenician links: in the early first millennium, Phoenicians settled parts of the island, known as Alashya in Near Eastern sources. The cult of Aphrodite and Ashtart were prominent there, as we know from archaeology and inscriptions, which comes through in some myths like that about king Pygmalion and the statue (Ovid, Met. 10.243–297).
Carthage’s foundation story inspired the figure of Dido in Virgil’s Aeneid (1.418–57; this alternative name appears in Timaeus, BNJ 566 F82). In his epic journey, Aeneas arrives by chance (or divine will) at Carthage as the city is under construction. Virgil fancies Aeneas falling in love with the founder queen, whose name is otherwise unattested. Her retelling of the foundation is virtually identical to Trogus’s, except Virgil introduces Aeneas into the mix and makes Dido commit suicide out of heartbreak after Aeneas abandons her to pursue his destiny in Italy. The whole affair is an anticipation of the tormented relationship between Rome and Carthage (Miles 2010: 365–70; for the foundation story, see chapter 11, this volume).
Yet other, less popular myths might have been brewed in the Punic western Mediterranean, such as the story of Gargoris and Habis, the founding kings of the Tartessians in southwest Iberia. Also transmitted by Justin (44.4.1–14), this myth contains cosmogonic elements (the Titans and Kouretes) and the theme of mythological kings as culture heroes. The tale then moves onto more familiar mythical grounds by involving Geryon and Herakles, and then connects to the later history of the region and the advent of the Carthaginians in southern Iberia. This narrative seems to preserve the kernel of a local myth most likely stemming from the Punic milieu of Gadir (Celestino and López-Ruiz 2016: 105–10; López-Ruiz 2017b). A similar situation surrounds the story of the Philaeni, the two Carthaginian brothers who sacrificed their lives to help extend the borders of their state against the ambitions of the Cyrenaeans (Sallust, Iug. 79). This story also seems to contain elements of a foundational legend from the Carthaginian realm (Quinn 2014).
If we cast a broader net, scattered Greek mythological names and themes hint at a largely lost mythical tradition that overlapped and fused with Greek mythologies since archaic times or before (e.g., Phoinix, Kadmos and Europa, Pygmailion, Adonis, Melikertes/Palaimon, Danaids’s saga) (Astour 1967; Morris 1992; Brown [1995, 2000] 2001; López-Ruiz 2010: 30–38). Occasionally an odd source shows the complex ways in which Semitic and Greek elements could be combined—for example, an Aramaic story (in a Syriac text transmitted in Hebrew script) about the love between Queen Balthi of Cyprus and Tamuz, son of one Kuthar. Here the queen is a version of Ashtart (Baalat Gubal—i.e., “Lady of Byblos”) and her lover Tamuz (the Phoenician Dumuzi), but the story adds a Greek layer of interpretation by mentioning that Balthi (like Aphrodite) had been in love with Ares and that her husband Hephaistos (the Gre
ek equivalent of Semitic Kothar) killed Tamuz (Brown 1995: 245; Van Rompay 2011; López-Ruiz in press).
Historiography
Ancient historians allude to an earlier Levantine antiquarian tradition that included documents going back to at least the early first millennium. So Josephus mentions the annals of Tyre that some of his sources had consulted, and among the latter he mentions Dios, Philostratos, and Menander of Ephesos, who wrote a history of Tyre (e.g., Josephus, Ag.Ap. 1.116–19; Ant. 8.144–49; Tertullian Apol. 19.5–6; further references in chapter 2, this volume.). Other lost works of Phoenician antiquities were written by Klaudios Iolaos (BNJ 788), Mochos-Laitos (BNJ 784), and Hieronymos “the Egyptian” (BNJ 787). Philon of Byblos claimed that he was translating the work of Sanchouniathon, who wrote before the Trojan War, though we cannot know what lay behind this name, if it was not invented (Eusebios, Praeparatio Evangelica 1.9.20–21 [= BNJ 790 F1]; Porphyry, Abst. 2.56 [BNJ 790 T3]).
In the west, Phoenician histories must have circulated at least since Hellenistic times (fourth century bce), as some Greek historians were likely drawing on Carthaginian sources—for instance, the fourth–third centuries bce Sicilian Timaios of Tauromenion, who wrote about the Carthaginian expansion. Timaios, whose work is lost, became a source for the First Punic War for authors such as Polybios, Livy, Diodoros of Sicily, Pompeius Trogus, and Plutarch. We have more specific data for the third century, when Hannibal employed two Greeks to write about his campaigns: Silenos of Kaleakte (probably Sicily) and the Spartan Sosylos, both mentioned by Nepos in his biography of Hannibal (Hannibal 13.3). Silenos wrote an official history of Hannibal’s campaigns, as well as a history of Sicily, and his histories underlie sections of Polybios, Coelius (Cic. Div. 1.48–49), and, through them, Livy (Livy 26.49.1–6) and Pliny (HN 4.22.120; BNJ 175; Walbank 1968–1969). The fact that these texts were written in Greek does not make them less Phoenician/Carthaginian, insofar as they were commissioned by a Carthaginian about Carthaginian history (much as Theophanes of Mytilene was commissioned to write about Pompey’s campaigns in Greek in the first century bce). Other authors stemming from this Hellenistic milieu may have drawn on Carthaginian sources, though we cannot trace the latter—for example, Philinos of Agrigentum, who authored a history of the First Punic War (e.g., Polyb. 14.1), and a certain Charon of Carthage (BNJ 1077; Miles 2010: 246–47).
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