The discovery and decipherment of the trilingual cuneiform inscriptions

In Short

This book traces the long, arduous intellectual odyssey required to decipher the trilingual cuneiform inscriptions of the Achaemenian Empire. It chronicles the transition from early European travelers who gazed in bewilderment at the ruins of Persepolis to the rigorous, competitive efforts of 19th-century philologists to crack the code. By examining the records of explorers from Barbaro in 1472 to the systematic excavations of the late 1800s, the text illuminates how a once-indecipherable mystery became a cornerstone of modern archaeology. It remains a testament to the persistence of human curiosity and the painstaking, collaborative nature of scientific breakthrough, capturing the moment when the ancient world finally began to speak for itself.

The Story

The narrative begins in the late 15th century, as early European travelers encounter the haunting ruins of Persepolis. To these men, the strange, wedge-shaped markings on the stone were a riddle, often mistaken for mere decoration or even architectural damage rather than a sophisticated system of language. For centuries, the site serves as a magnet for adventurers, diplomats, and missionaries, each leaving behind records that grow progressively more accurate. Figures like Pietro della Valle and Sir John Chardin contribute early observations and rudimentary copies of the characters, though their theories—ranging from the marks being magical talismans to ancient musical notation—remain wildly speculative.

The turning point occurs at the dawn of the 19th century. Georg Friedrich Grotefend provides the vital spark by identifying the names of Achaemenian kings within the inscriptions, a breakthrough that provides the necessary key for others to follow. The focus shifts from exploration to intense philological labor. As European scholars like Eugene Burnouf and Christian Lassen advance the understanding of the Persian text, they realize the inscriptions are trilingual, requiring mastery of complex, distinct linguistic systems. The narrative follows this progression with precision, detailing how the decipherment of the Persian column serves as the foundation for tackling the more obscure Susian and Babylonian texts.

The climax of this intellectual struggle takes place at the famous Behistun Inscription, where Major Henry Rawlinson undertakes the perilous, solitary task of copying the massive, high-altitude text. This act of physical and mental endurance provides the raw data needed to confirm the work of his contemporaries. The final chapters describe the shift from pure decipherment to the era of large-scale archaeological excavation. Explorers like Dieulafoy and De Morgan move into the field, literally digging beneath the soil of Susa to retrieve the physical context for these inscriptions. The book ends by acknowledging the scholars who navigated the "arid wastes" of this research, distinguishing those who possessed the rare, intuitive genius for decipherment from the imposters and failures who fruitlessly muddled the record, leaving a clear path for the modern study of the ancient Near East.

How It Unfolds

The first glimpses The account opens with the earliest European travelers, such as Barbaro and Gouvea, who record their initial, bewildered impressions of the ruins. These early reports focus on the sheer scale of the architecture and the mystery of the "strange letters" carved into the stone.

The shift toward science By the time of Niebuhr and Ker Porter, the haphazard sketches of the past give way to disciplined efforts to measure and document the sites with greater accuracy. This era marks the transition from romantic observation to the systematic collection of data.

The breakthrough Grotefend ignites the process of decipherment by correctly isolating royal names, allowing scholars to guess at the nature of the script. This discovery sets the stage for a period of rapid, competitive advancement among European linguists.

The heroic labor Rawlinson’s work at Behistun represents the pinnacle of the effort, as he combines site-based investigation with comparative philology to unlock the inscriptions. This section emphasizes the sheer difficulty of working in remote, dangerous conditions while maintaining rigorous academic standards.

The physical recovery The final movement details the transition to the late 19th century, where excavations at Susa bring buried palaces to light. Here, the text highlights the shift from decoding written symbols to reconstructing the material world of the Achaemenian kings.

The People

The figures who populate this history are driven by a singular, obsessive desire to make the stone speak. Major Henry Rawlinson stands as the central hero, a man of exceptional ingenuity who combines the physical courage to scale the cliffs of Behistun with the intellectual patience to decode hundreds of lines of text. He is contrasted with the early, misguided scholars, such as Lichtenstein, whose "impudent imposture" and fabricated translations represent the pitfalls of vanity and poor methodology. Between these extremes are the foundational figures like Grotefend, whose initial flashes of insight provided the "Persian key" that everyone else eventually used, and the meticulous researchers like Burnouf and Lassen, who provided the grammatical scaffolding that allowed others to advance. The narrative also includes figures like Dieulafoy, whose work at Susa underscores the transition from the scholar at his desk to the archaeologist in the field, often working under the pressure of expiring permits and dwindling funds. These individuals are rarely portrayed as static, but rather as members of a fragile, global community of inquiry, each building, correcting, or sometimes foolishly competing with the others to claim a piece of the past.

In Its Own Voice

"The discovery that there was a marked discrepancy between the mode of writing and the characteristics of an Indo-European language, now announced for the first time, was soon to receive very ample confirmation."

(The author describes the startling moment when scholars realized the inscriptions required a more complex analysis than initially supposed.)

"Indeed, it does not clearly appear whether the Memoir was intended by Lichtenstein as a jeu d’esprit, or whether it was simply an impudent imposture."

(The author evaluates the dubious and fraudulent contributions that characterized the early, chaotic years of decipherment.)

"These remains of Achaemenian palaces, as they say, were not torn from some splendid ruin, but called back to life from the hidden embrace of the grave; and they were acquired at the peril of their lives."

(The author summarizes the transformation of historical research from abstract study to active, dangerous excavation.)

What It's Really About

This book is fundamentally an argument for the necessity of rigorous, cumulative science over individual conjecture. It explores the tension between the romantic allure of discovery and the unglamorous, often grueling labor of building a field of knowledge from scratch. The primary question the text seeks to answer is how a dead language—which once served as the administrative heartbeat of a vast empire—can be systematically recovered when the key to its grammar and script has been lost for millennia. Beneath the accounts of travel and excavation lies a meditation on the nature of truth in history: how, through the slow, collaborative process of verification, error is winnowed away and a coherent, factual picture of the ancient Achaemenian civilization is finally assembled. It is a study of how human intellect, when applied with patience and shared purpose, can overcome the silence of centuries.

Why Read It Today

Readers with a fondness for the history of science or the evolution of archaeological methodology will find this a deeply satisfying read. It captures the atmosphere of the 19th-century "heroic age" of scholarship, where discoveries were made through sheer grit, letter-writing between continents, and the lonely study of dusty bricks. The tone is refreshingly direct; the author is unafraid to call out the "fretful" vanity of certain scholars or the "fatal passion for restorations" that ruined otherwise promising work.

However, the reader should be prepared for the book's density. It is not a light, anecdotal romp but a serious, scholarly record that assumes an interest in the granular details of linguistics and the specific history of Persian antiquities. The language reflects the period of its composition, and the text is heavily laden with names, dates, and references to now-obscure academic debates. Yet, there is a quiet, rhythmic pleasure in watching the pieces of the puzzle fall into place. For those interested in how we know what we know about the ancient world, it offers a window into the messy, human, and ultimately triumphant process of turning stone into story. What stays with the reader is the image of the scholar at the cliff face or the desk, fighting against the limitations of their era to reach back and touch the reality of an empire long buried by the sands of time.