THE BOLLI N G E N SERI E S VIII

,I
 . !
MAX RAPH.ll.EL

BOOKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR PREHISTORIC

1913 Von Monet zu Picasso. Geschichte und Aesthetik der modernen Malerie. Munich, Delphin Verlag.

1921 !dee und Gestalt. Munich, Delphin Verlag. POTTERY

1930 Der Dorische Tempel. Dargestellt am Poseidontempel zu Paestum. Augsburg,
Dr. Benno Filser Verlag. ~
193 1 Die pyrrhoneische Skepsis. Berlin, Verlag der Philosophi~en Hefte.
1933 Proudhon-Marx-Picasso. Trois Essais sur la Sociologie de /'Art. Paris, Edition Excelsior.

1933 Villejuif. Introduction

jourd'hui.
a une Architecture en Beton arme. Paris, Edition Architecture d'Au-
IN EGYPT
1934 Erkenntnistheorie der konkreten Dialektik. Paris, Edition Excelsior.
TRANSLATION BY NORBERT GUTERM AN
1938 Theorie marxiste de la connaissance. Paris, Nouvelle R evue Franyaise, (Gallimard)
Collection des ldees.

1945 Prehistoric Cave Paintings. New York, Bollingen Series, Pantheon Books.

THE BOLLINGEN SERIES VIII

-
PANTHEON BOOKS

,
 Copyright 1947 by Bollingen Fozmdation, Washington, D. C.
Published for Bollingen Foundation, Inc.
by Pantheon Books Inc.

CONTENTS

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS IX

SOURCES OF ILLUSTRATIONS x

I SOCIAL AND ECONOMIC BACKGROUND 13

II THE FIRST CULTURE

1. THE FAYUM POTTERY
2. MERIMDA 33
3. TASA

III THE SECOND CULTURE 52

1. THE BADARIAN P~TTERY 52

2. THE AM.RATIAN CULTURE 67

3. STYLES OF ORNAMENTATION 74
The Geometric Linear Style 76
The Crotchet Style
The Crosslined Style 103
The Syncretistic Style 112

The Solid-Figure Style 11 7

The White-incrustated Pottery 1 22

IV THE THIRD CULTURE

1. THE AMRATIAN PERIOD
2. THE GERZEAN PERIOD

NOTES 1 57

Printed in the U. S. A. by The Marchbanks Press, N. Y.

Illustrations by Offset Process by Meriden Gravure Co., Meriden, Conn.
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIO N S

I-II Pottery of the Fayum

III Merimda Pottery
IV Pottery and Ornamentation of T asa
V - VI Badarian Pottery
VII Pottery and Ornamentation of Badari
VIII Amratian Pottery
IX Amratian Pottery; Slate Palette of Gerzeh
X_.:.XI Gerzean Pottery
XII-XXV Amratian W hite-painted Ornamentation
xn-xv T he Geometric Style and the Stars

xvr- xvm The Crotchet Style: the Cult of Animals and Stars

xrx-xxn The Feminine Crosslined Style

xxm The Syncretistic Style

xxrv The Solid-Figure Style

xxv Uninterpreted Signs

XXVI The White-inciustated Ornamentation

XXVII-XXXII T he Red Decoration of the Gerzean Epoch
XXXIII Incised Markings and Ship Standards
XXXIV-XXXV The Wall Painting of Hierakonpolis
XXXVI Incised Markings and Ship Standards

ix

,
 -s 0 UR CE S 0 F I LL UST RAT I 0 NS

Service des antiquites de l'Egypte: Annales, 1934·

E. R. Ayrton and W. L. S. Loat: Predynastic Cemeteries at El Mahasna.
G. Brunton: Mostagedda and the Tasian Culture, 1937·
Quau and Badari, 1927.
G. Brunton and G. Caton-Thompson: The Badarian Civilization and Predynastic Remt:1ins
near Badari, 1928.
G. Caton-Thompson and E.W. Gardner: The Desert Fayum, 1934·
H. Junker: Vorlaufiger Bericht uber die Grabung[ en] der Akademie auf der neolithischen
Siedelung von Merimda-Benisalame (Westdelta) [ 1929-1934], 1929-34. TO MME ILSE LEEMBRUGGEN VAN LIEVE N
D. Randall-Maciver and A. C. Mace: El Amrah and Abydos, 189_9-1901, r902. IN GRATEFUL FRIENDSHIP
J. de Morgan: Recherches sur l' origine de l' Egypte, vol. I, l 896.
La prehistoire orientate, vol. II, 1926.
E. Peet: Cemet_eries of Abydos, vol. II.
W. M. F. Petrie: Corpus of Prehistoric Pottery and Palettes, 1921.
Prehistoric Egypt, 1920.
The Making of Egypt, 1939·
Diospolis Parva, 1901.
W. M. F. Petrie and J. E. Quibell: ;vaqada and Ballas, 1896.
W. M. F. Petrie, G. A. Wainwright, and E. Mackay: The Labyrinth, Gerzeh, and
Mazguneh, 1912.
J. E. Quibell: Archaic Objects. Catalogue general des antiquites egyptiennes du Musee du
Caire, v~ls. XXIII, XXIV, l 904-5.
J.E. Quibell and F. W. Green: Hierakonpolis, vol. II, 1902.
G. A. Reisner: Archaeological Survey of Nubia, Report for 1907-8-1910-11, vol. I.
•
A. Scharff: Die Denkmaler der Vor- und Fruhzeit Aegyptens, 193 1.
A. Scharff and G. Moellers: Das Vorgeschichtliche Graberfeld von Abusir El-Meleq.

,

ACKNOWLEDGMENT
The author wishes to record his indebtedness to the several institutions for re-
search and the other scientific organizations that have kindly permitted him to
use the illustrations reproduced in this volume. His thanks are tendered in par-
ticular to the British School of Archaeology in Egypt, the Royal Anthropological
Institute, and the Egypt Exploration Society .
To Lady Flinders Petrie, director of the British School of Archaeology in
Egypt, especial appreciation is due for her generosity in authorizing the inclusion
of material from the works of the late Sir W. M. Flinders Petrie, whose fielq
work and published writings are a fundamental guide in any study of Egyptian
prehistory.
',I
CHAPTER I
SOCIAL AND ECONOMIC BACKGROUND
FROM the standpoint of a history of mankind, the usual demarcation between history
and prehistory, according to the point at which existing written records begin, is completely
arbitrary. The really great turning points of historY, came, first, when hunting was displaced
by agriculture as the economic basis of life and, second, when trade became the dominant
and determining force in the formation of society. The history of Egypt is ch~racterized
especially by two facts: ( 1) the record of the transition from hunting to agriculture is inac-
cessible, as a result of natural catastrophes; ( 2) trade never became dominant in the culture,
for reasons to be discussed below. Moreover, the several prehistoric epochs are at present
labeled by terms derived exclusively from the materials of the surviving examples of tools of
the given period, with disregard of the use of wooden weapons and implements; thus in e.ffect
these terms appear to denote more or less homogeneous epochs.
In actual fact, the term paleolithic covers an entire age of gathering economy (hunting
and fruit gathering), while the term neolithic denotes only the first stages of a ho.mo faber
economy (agriculture, cattle breeding, handicrafts) that remained fundamentally the same
in character after the discovery of copper and bronze. The Egyptian neolithic age reveals a
stage of agricultural society in which man became conscious of the potentialities of his new
mode of production, in which he groped for social and economic forms commensurate to
these, and in which, above all, he replaced the now inadequate hunting-age ideology of magic
totemism with a cult of the dead that br,ought him to the threshold of a cult of gods. Pre-
history, so-called, affords a foundation for the understanding of so-called history, which in
turn can be reduced to prehistory merely by a change of criteria.
The neolithic cultivator certainly had criteria in regarding the paleolithic hunter as
prehistoric or primitive, for the neolithic felt, indeed created the measure of separation
between himself and paleolithic man. For us moderns it is easier to see the difference between
these two ages than to bridge the gap between them, for we have no knowledge of the
transitional processes. In Europe, Franco-Cantabrian cave painting seems to have come to a
stop at its apogee, and we are unable to discover the causes of this sudden interruption or to
trace the birth of the neolithic age. In Egypt, where successive excavations have disclosed
ever earlier neolithic epochs, a series of natural catastrophes wiped out all evidences of the
paleolithic civilization except for some stone tools. The records of the intermediary stages
have been lost, if indeed there were such stages-that is, if the hypothesis of a continuity of
development is justified.
However, even if the absence of links is due not merely to our lack of knowledge but
also to natural and social upheavals, even if discontinuity must be recognized as a principle
of history, this does not by any means signify that the two epochs have no internal connec-
tion. The connection exists, because in the Old Stone Age the hordes of hunters following
the herds became partly sedentary, having begun to use plants for food; simultaneously, cer-
13
tain groups within the clans won precedence over others, as manifested in the uneven distri-
bution of booty. Conversely, the people of the New Stone Age, even after the introduction
of agriculture, remained dependent upon the ideology of totemism and magic, which only
gradually disintegrated under the impact of more advanced forms of production and social
organization. Here, as in all historical processes, social or individual, opposite principles do
not exclude each other, but develop from or toward a unity. · While the Egyptians never w ent so far as to institute a cult of ancestors, the link between
This does not in any way diminish the gap between the two epochs. We can realize the
differences between them by comparing the highest artistic achievements of the two cultures
respectively-the ceiling of Altamira and the mural painting of Hierakonpolis.
Altamira1 depicts a conflict between two clans whose hostility has deeper roots than
rivalry for the possession of hunting grounds. In this painting powerful, tense bodies in sexual
frenzy are contrasted with gracious figures expressing a serene wisdom. The struggle is still
in full swing, but the material weapons have been discarded; the efficient and victorious
weapons are the spiritual forces of magic. The defeated clan is propitiated and life continues.
In Hierakonpolis [XXXIV, XXXV*], on the wall of a tomb erected for a man of high
rank, we see, against a yellow background, white ships receding as it were into the wall and
fading away as they glide oarless from left to right-passing from multiplicity to singleness,
from crowding to isolation, from fullness to vacuum, to nothingness~ An impetus from another
world causes the upcurving prows of the ships to flatten out, reduces the slow rhythm of the
composition to a standstill, concentrates around the black of a shifted axis, then upcurves the
stern ends of the ships, so that the whole movement now flows backward in stately repetition.
Nothing tells us whence the ships came; ev:erything we see tells us what goal they reached
-a death related to neither earth nor heaven. Around these ships of the dead, enhanced to
monumental proportions, are sketched, in much smaller scale, scenes from the life of the
deceased: he slays antagonists, tames wild _beasts, snares his prey in a wheel trap. But the
picturization of his triumphs in life ends with the scene under the first ship. Then begins-
with musicians in attendance-the ceremony of skin flagellation, by which the deceased is
purified of his sins and prepared for his second life. The whole scene represents not a struggle
between life and death, not even the absolute opposition of life and death, but an intermediary
stage traversed by a man departing from life on his uncertain voyage ~o a new life in death. 2
Paleolithic art is an art of life, and assehs ever more intensely the stresses of life; neolithic
art is an art consecrated to death, and develops into a more and more one-sided glorification
of death. How can this contrast be explained?
What most strikingly differentiates the two epochs is the fact that in the second, life has
become sedentary, which has both disintegrating and integrating _consequences. Even at the
time when some paleolithics were no longer completely nomadic and some neolithics were
not yet completely bound to the soil, sedentation was for the paleolithics only a periodic
complement to migratory life, while for the q.,tolithics migration was only an occasional
complement to sedentary life. The paleolithics, necessarily pursuing strictly limited goals in
all the dangers of infinitely open space, shaped theiF standards of resources for dominating
the world in the image of human powers. For the neolithics, the limitation of the environ-
" The numbers within brackets refer to the illustrations. The Roman numeral gives the pla te number; the Arabic
numerals designate figures of the given plate.
ment by the horizon created a relation to a .fixed place, giving the mind freedom to conceive
imaginary ~orlds. Sedentation involved a change f ~om wandering to fixed habitation, from
concern with animals to concern with plants, from killing animals to cultivating land, and it
meant attachment to property--,-security inherited and to be inherited, and thus the concept
of a continuity of human generations.
· parents and offspring, the givers and the receivers of familial heritage, was all t~e stronger.
Egyptologists have repeatedly found mothers buried with their children, the children being
entombed with extraordinary care. The family, as. conceived in its narrowest limits, splits up
the clan, becomes the cell of society and of economic life; this leads to formation of small,
closed circles of interest, locally scattered or subsisting beside one another in loose proximity
without pursuing common goals. The Egyp~ian terrain strengthened both these tendencies:
the fact that the N ile fertilizes a long, narrow corridor of land favored a thin distrjbution,
while the equal dependence of the whole country on the river floods, the restriction of trade
outlets because of the surrounding deserts, and the push of the south toward the sea, favored
unification. The isolation of settlements led to separate, often analogous solutions of identical
problems, and conversely to closely juxtaposed contrasts and to syncret!c reconciliation of
these short of a genuine synthesis.
The character of the art and civilization of the Old Stone Age is based upon the blood
kinship or the social homogeneity of the clan, visibly represented by the totemic animal;
the art anEl civilization of the New Stone Age draw their character from the circumstance
' that various tribes with different pasts met and lived together. For the very reason that they
were migratory, the hunters were constrained to the closest cooperation, for individually
they could not cope with the strength of the animals or the dangers of the elements. But when
the goal of migration was to seek out fertile ground, nomads coming from differen~ regions
could settle together so long as they found more good land than could be cultivated with their
primitive tools, or so long as they were able with the help of superior weapons to compel the
natives to surrender part of their agricultural products.
In Egypt the incentive to permanent settlement was all the stronger because the narrow
fertile strips along the Nile were surrounded by deserts. Thus it is precisely in the oldest
settlements that we find an intermingling of various races and cultures, as ascertained by
Caton-Thompson in regard to the Fayum, 3 by Junker and Menghin in regard to Merimda, 4
and by Brunton in regard to J asa. 5 Throughout the entire prehistoric era, large and small
·groups of nomads migrated to the valley of the N,ile through the eastern or the western desert;
they founded settlements jointly or separately, or attac;hed themselves to existing settlements,
, under the most varied conditions. We can ascertain the fact of such immigrations only
indirectly, from evidences of the introduction of new materials, new skills, superior forms of
social organization, or different ideologies.
. All these movements in the aggregate cannot be reduced to the aspect of one or two
moments of the historical process, even less of a migration of one or two races. In the face
of all the contradictory and oversimplified hypotheses about the origin of the primitive
Egyptians and of their later conquerors, we should not forget Virchow's skeptical warning
(quoted by De Morgan): "Measuring the heads of the Egyptians with the hope of getting
useful results is absolutely like measuring the heads of the stray dogs in our great cities." 6
15
their value when the grass was consumed and the herds moved elsewhere. In contrast to this,
the neolithics fought for permanent ownership of the contested land and for the right to all
future harvests, and such struggles could end only in extermination or subjection of the
previous settlers. · which did not require a special class of herdsmen, and fishing, which seriously competed with
Since the conquerors were not necessarily skilled in cultivating land, they needed the
knowledge and labor power of the former. owners. Permanent possession of the soil signified
permanent possession of persons-man's domination of man for the purpose of gratifying his
hunger and his sexual drive. War, a political instrument, in becoming part of the economy of
a sedentary population, changed in aim: it ceased to serve for averting hunger episodically,
and was intended to secure a food supply for all time by enabling some people to supervise the
labor of others and to appropriate the product. War and all other political functions acquired,
in addition to their economic goals, a social purpose, and thus changed from expedients to
routine activities.
The causal relation between economics, social organization, and politics, which had this .
sequence in the paleolithic age because the conqueror was interested not in the conquered
but only in the object of the struggle, was now reversed: political domination created social
organization and determined the mode of production. Th_e neolithics found in this process
a superior opportunity for domination, and a new class, skilled in the art of ruling, made its
appearance. Each conquest led to new conquests, the evolution of domestic economy re-
quired by sedentation and agriculture was held in check by political means, and conquest,
which for the nomads had meant migration to distant lands, now meant extension of territory:
the dwelling gave rise to the village, the village to the town, the town to the province, the
province to the region, and the region to the empire. Domination of ever greater populations
over more and more territory became the aim of neolithic politics (to the paleolithics, such
an idea was unknown), because only political domination could produce the social forces
adequate to assuring food in face of the formidable forces of nature. ~ antagonistic interests and modes of life. This adjustment could not take place spontaneously
In Egypt, first acquaintance with copper, which could be found only abroad, introduced
the rulers to superior implements and enabled them to enslave weaker owners of land by
monopolizing such implements. With the help of copper tools, more efficient though rare,
dependence upon nature was transformed into sociopolitical dependence, the ground for
this change having been paved by the increasif!g disintegration of totemistic clan organization
as a result of agrarian settlement, formation of families, and mingling of races. Moreover,
magic was obliged to deal with natural forces that it was unable to master, and the social
power of homo faber abolished the principle of conservation of magic forces. The struggle
to achieve greater independence of nature-with preservation of the greatest possible freedom
as between man and man-evolved gradually into a struggle for the subjection of man by man,
in order to secure the enjoyment of the products of natu~e to the privileged few. This is the
momentous content of that section of human history which we are accustomed to call neo-
lithic prehistory. ,1
The development of s9ciopolitical organization followed a different course in the vari-
ous parts of Egypt, according to the specific geographical conditions to which the inhabitants
were trying to adapt their mode of production. In the prehistoric age differences of trend can
be distinguished in three regions: ( 1) the open expanse of the swampy delta, which was
exposed to sandstorms (its eastern section was very different from the western); ( 2) the nar-
18
row; inclosed valley of the upper Nile; (3) Middle Egypt, lying relatively near to the
Red Sea.
The population of Lower Egypt; besides engaging in agriculture, practiced pig breeding,
hunting. The predominance of farmers over herdsmen and hunters reduced the antagonisms
between the various occupational groups. The_proximity of the sea was conducive to interest
in navigation, although the first ships were hardly seaworthy, which restricted the possibilities
of invading other countries. But this region was exposed to the slow impenetration of foreign
peoples and therefore difficult to organize politically.
Upper Egypt, which was less fertile, was more favorable for breeding of herds, especially
horned cattle; this later led to the replacement of hoeing by plowing, but at first created
tensions between farmers and herdsmen, hunters and herdsmen, and farmers and hunters,
which accelerated the prehistoric changes. The desert, which served for protection against
foreign enemies, also prevented emigration, and the natural increase of population led to the
formation of a warrior caste and to a tendency to southward and northward expansion.
In Middle Egypt trade and handicrafts seem to have developed more rapidly than in the
two other regions. Here the less profitable traditional occupations were eliminated, this
making for peace and prosperity; but strong military-political organiz~tion was lacking. None
of the three regions could long subsist independently of the other two, in view of the increase
of population. The inhabitants of U pper Egypt, who ran into the natural barrier of the cata-
racts and the resistance of the N ubians, sought outlets to the Red Sea through Middle Egypt
and to the Mediterranean through Lower Egypt. The common dependence of all the regions
upon the Nile, the advances made in regulatio~f the ~~ods, the seizures of ever larger areas
of land by powerful individuals, and the resultin~ ever larger numbers of laborers-
all these factors pressed for the adjustment of geographical and economic differences and of
but could come about only through the mediation of political and social forms gradually
created by the people themselves. These forms can be most clearly seen in the period of tran-
sition between the second and the third civilization.
The social and political development of the neolithic Egyptians rested on the growing
control of primary economic forces (soil, implements, etc.) achieved through processes of
struggle or mutual aid. While paleolithic society (despite increasing internal differentiation)
was essentially simple and homogeneous, and conserved its primary social form for the very
reason that its mode of life was nomadic, neolithic society, despite its sedentary life, presents
a picture of continuous development, of constantly changing forms in its man-created milieu.
This formal change has a specific character and clarity, because economy (and with it
social and political organization) , from the spur of necessity, developed more rapidly and
achieved greater originality than ideology. The people of the time were as slow to understand
the scope of the revolution entailed in the transition from nomadic to sedentary life as modern
mankind has been in understanding the transition from a trading to an industrial economy.
Then as in later times it took centuries for realization of all the consequences of the seemingly
simple fact that man began to obtain his food not by slaying animals but by breeding them,
not by gathering fruits but by cultivating land. Moreover, the change was enforced in equal
measure by a natural catastrophe and a natural blessing-the formation of the desert and the
19
periodic floods of the N ile. However, as the people of Egypt learned increasingly to adjust
themselves to the new situation, their old ideology, based on a symhesis of totemism and
magic, disintegrated. Totemism as a form of social organization lost its fundamental signifi-
cance when the cohesion of the clan was dissolved by sedentation, when sexual cohabitation
was regularized, and when portions of the clan had to contend and to mingle with foreign
invaders. As a result, the totemic animal was released from its function of symbolizing social
unity and could be used for other, "higher" ideological purposes.
Magic displayed more stubborn vitality. Originally it was an empirical science confined
to a narrow sphere of facts and a theoretically justified form of action: the practice of magic
consisted in observation and study of matters vital to human needs (hunger, sexual urge,
illness, etc.), in concentration of the intellectual faculties, especially attention, on human
desires and the means of satisfying them, and finally, in adequate social action. When man's
needs came to involve forces whose causes remained unknown and could not be influenced
by human action, this magic lost its character as an active science complemented by man's
faith in his spiritual power and became a form of superstition.
The increasing importance of agriculture led to constantly increasing dependence upon
the elemental forces of nature. The hunting clan, taught by long experience, maintained a
sum of social forces sufficient to enable it to cope with animals; but now man had to cope with
unpredictably strong, arbitrarily changing natural forces, and the separate families and villages
viewed these forces from different angles of interest, according to their respective:: occupations
and knowledge.
For the sedentary neolithic, there arose between the forces of nature and those of society
a discrepancy that had been completely unknown to the paleolithic. This discrepancy was
all the more impressive because it reflected the essential condition of homo f ab er: the further
he tried to extend his domination over nature, the more was he conscious of his dependence
upon it. The more he could produce, and the more autonomous his handiwork, the more
clearly did he realize that at the most important junctures of his life, the premise that he was
determined and shaped by nature was more decisive than his ability to determine and shape
nature.
This had two different but closely related consequences. Since the traditional ideology
of magic did not change as rapidly as the material conditions of production, and since the
magic powers wielded by the individual seemed too weak as against the incompre~ensible
forces of nature, the magic powers were surrendered out of common exercise, concentrated
in a single individual, and the magician (or prince) was answerable with his life for the·success
or failure of the spell. The replacement of personal concentration and action by delegated
conce~tration and action furthered the separation of intellectual and physical work, of politi-
cal power and economic production.
The latter cleavage had already begun to appear in the paleolithic age (as proven by the
changes in the representation of the magic of apportionment), and it was all the more danger-
ous with regard to the perpetuation of the function of magic, because it undermined the very
foundation of magic, the principle of conservation of magic forces. Paradoxically, the im-
provement in the technique of slaying animals strengthened the magician's material power
while destroying its social basis. Even more paradoxically, it was a ruling social stratum that
during the early- and middle-neolithic periods tried to adapt a new form of magic to ,the new
20
conditions of production, although this production was unamenable to genuine magic, for it
could not be controlled'by social action. The rulers who staked their lives on the success of
their magic could not fail to realize that forces other than magic determined such success,
· namely, the available amount of human labor power and the efficacy of the tools employed.
Thus magic became ineffective and insufficient, and as its role disintegrated, man came
. gradually to realize i:hat the old principle of conservation of magic forces, which implied the
possibility of an exchange of forces between the spiritual and physical worlds, was 'no longer
valid, because through work one could recover more or less of the value expended but never
an exact equivalent. The greater the harvest in proportion to the amount of seed sown, the
more the belief in magic dwindled. Furthermore, neolithic man realized that neither indi-
vidual nor communal powers were adequate for securing an infallible balance of resources
against needs, because the forces of nature could be neither bidden to work nor directed at
will, neither coerced nor mastered. As man's energies were applied to increasing nature's pro-
ductive capacity instead of destroying it, they were r evealed to be infinitely inferior to the
natural forces; and while successes strengthened man's sense of activity and power, realization
of his inferiority to nature weakened his self-assurance and made him feel less free. T hus the
neolithic Egyptian, after the natural catastrophe, was confronted with a spiritual crisis: he
not only had to learn a new method of producing his subsistence but also had to create a new
· ideology. And because hunger was a g·reater goad than desire for knowledge, the neolithic
Egyptians lived in a situation in which their efforts to dominate their world practically made
it impossible for them to dominate it theoretically, i. e., in a situation that was unstable, cease-
lessly changing and constantly impelling them to greater effort.
Under the impact of his needs and of nat al forces, neolithic man obviously could not
continue to place his reliance in a totemism that ha ecome empty and in a magic that was
in process of disintegration. The fact that homo f aber invented a cult of the dead as a new
form for his religion seems at first one of the greatest paradoxes of the history of ideas. Even ·
paleolithic man believed that human life does not terminate with death, as has justly been
inferred by Mainage9 from the carefully dug graves, from the position of the corpses, from
the presence of amulets of stone and ocher and of ornaments and weapons. Certain later
Egyptian burial customs that seem peculiar have an ancient paleolithic tradition, as can be
seen from the following description of an example, regarded as typical, from Raymonden:
The body, in forced flexion, rested on its left side, with the head bent forward and
downward. The arms were raised, the left hand was applied to the head and neck, the
right hand was placed against the left upper maxillary. The legs were likewise flexed, in
such a way that the feet were level with the lower part of the pelvis and the knees with the
dental arches. 10
Nevertheless, it seems paradoxical that homo faber, who everywhere was so positively
related to life, should have been so strongly fascinated by death. T he paradox is dispelled
when we realize that the cult of the dead constituted a bold attempt on man's part to save
himself from natural disintegration and to attain a new life after death.
In the eyes of the neolithic Egyptian, man was not naturally endowed with immortality :
death was viewed as the interruption of the vital force, which had to be given a new and
permanent abode. H e believed in a permanent force but saw transitory forms; to give perma-
21
nent form to the permanent force was the goal of his activity-in order that he should not die
again in the nether world. Achievement of a lasting form was sought through preservation
and safeguarding of the dead by careful treatment, which was completed only in rare cases,
The treatment began with dismemberment of the corpse and rearrangement of the bones,
i.e., artificial reconstitution of the body as the vehicle of the new existence. It continued with
application of material and magic means for securing the dead m.an's double existence- within
and outside of the tomb-and it was thought to culminate in enabling the deceased, awakened
to new life, to transmit the magic powers of his generation to its heirs, who in return had the
obligation of safeguarding their dead· fathers against hunger, thirst, and lack of sexual
gratification.
What drove homo f aber to make a life out of death was not a macabre preoccupation but
a need arising from his new mode of life: since man had become· sedentary, the dead could
find the living, could cast spells on him-moreover, being dead, had power to cast the spell of
death- and could drive the heir away from the possessions he had received only by reason of
the other's death. Not the mystic quality of the Egyptian landscape (as has so often been
maintained), but the new phenomena of sedentary life and heritable property, combined
with the traditional principle of conservation of magic forces, produced the cult of the dead,
with its motive of shaping the afterlife of the dead in such a way that instead of endangering
the survivor it should benefit him. Since the living remained dependent upon the dead, the
dead were made dependent up.on the living; the living insured themselves against the dead,
just as the dead received guarantees from the survivors.
All this served to achieve a very precarious balance in a fundamentally ambivalent situa-
tion. On the one hand the dead person was fixed in the earth and preserved; on the other, he
left the earth. Away from the earth he had a dual fate. He was both beset by dangers and
immune to danger: he achieved release from his father only when he gave away his-inherit-
ance, but at the same moment he became dependent upon his heir. He entered upon a new
life with the hazard that he might die again and suffer hunger and thirst even if (or for the
very reason that) he had had a life without privations. In death, the individual whose ways
had been sedentary was doomed to wandering, so that he should be unable to find his former
home. He was provided with objects of daily use and surrounded with his most personal
possessions; these were intended to facilitate his new existence and also to delude him into
mistaking the part for the whole, thus offsetting his desire to recover his possessions. These
ambivalences of relation between the dead and the living were so strong that they dominated
the entire later trend. New and more efficient means for preserving the dead from decay were
constantly being invented: a long hut straight path leads from the custom of wrapping the
dead in skins to the practice of embalming them. Simultaneously, new places were being
devised to which to remove them. The road to the afterlife was made increasingly difficult,
and the consummation of the journey was pQstponed to a more and more remote future.
There was a wish to keep the soul of the deceased far removed from the living, while the dead
man's own past life, his lost possessions, were reproduced ever more attractively and elabo-
rately, so that the effigy should be more captivating than reality.
The main although not sole cause of this ambivalence lay in the dual character of prop-
erty, i. e., in that it incorporated both material and magic attributes. With the death of the
22
'ir,.
owner, the function of the property changed in regard to both these aspects. The material
possessions, which had been acquired largely through domination and by violence, secured
the existence of the living- an existence of enjoyment without work for members of the
ruling class, in whose behalf the cult of the dead was developed. But the dead were not only
deprived of food and sexual gratification; they were also dependent on the good will of their
heirs. The magic powers associated with the possession of property, which society had dele-
gated to individuals of high rank, became dissociated from the individual in death. It was
impossible to be sure, however, that the transfer of these povvers to another person was com-
plete, because the dead person had to retain some of them in order to assure his place as a
star in heaven (or his existence in any other place).
Since, it was believed, the dead man strove to recover his property and power, and the
survivor's task was precisely to divert him from such efforts, the struggle over the disposition
of the magic powers became central in the cult of the dead. The dead individual threatened
the living: "I am a soul that takes its vital fluids from its friends and its phallus from its com-
panions." The surviving heir assured him: "Your son ascends your throne, where he is en-
dowed with -your shape. He does what you used to do. He plows barley fields, he plows
wheat fields, and he makes gifts to you." The living gave the dead a part of the yield of his
· new possessions, to induce him not to take what belonged to the living, and to enable him to
take things from other dead (his parents) in order to help the living.
All primitive magic, for the very reason that it sought to bring about permanent changes,
presupposed the conservation of the sum of all magic energies, and therefore a continuous
struggle to insure efficient utilization of them. aleolithic man nullified the counterspell of the
dead by a single act of propitiation of the slain an· al or of the defeated clan. Neolithic man,
however, could only divert the magic power of his deacH-ather; he could not nullify it before
his own death. Therefore propitiation of the dead became a perpetual task for the survivor.
He feared the dead not as such, but as bearers of the universal magic pQwer. And since magic
forces cannot leave this world, contradictory goals arose. In other words, it was the associa-
tion of magic with death that led to the notion of the dualism of body and soul, though a clear
conceptual dualism as between the ideas of the natural and the supernatural, of immanence
and transcendence, could not develop.
The relatively rapid transformations of the conception of death show how self-defeating
was the attempt of the Egyptian homo faber: the potency of magic was exhausted with regard
to both death and life. The princes, compelled to deal with superhuman powers and fearing
their expropriated subjects, sought safeguards in promoting new beliefs. The ruler trans-
ferred the responsibility imposed on him by the people .to a god whose son he was (a totem-
istic motif), and whose higher and more remote authority impelled obedience to wishes and
commandments that only the king could transmit. But in Egypt the belief in gods could never
be entirely freed from the ideas of magic on which -it was grafted.
In this phase of prehistory the Egyptians no longer found help in magic and could not
yet find help in religion; and in the course of history their mixed beliefs repeatedly turned to
the past, precisely because as a mixture they had no future. This was no doubt not only
because the belief in gods was imported, but also because the dynasties deprived the people
of their capacity for action during life. With the introduction of slavery, princely power, and
23
 belief in gods, the agricultural and cattle-raising society of the Egyptian homo faber found its
form; and this first stage of the Egyptian civilization came of age.
It may s~em wrong a priori to center the exposition of so complex and dynamic a culture
around a single material- around clay and its fashioning. But it is no accident that clay is the
only material that the neolithics raised, to any large extent, from the sphere of the practical to
that of art. When Plato called pottery the most ancient art, he-as an aristocratic reactionary
of his time- not only gave preferential place to the urban "artistic handicraftsmen" as against
the seafaring traders of Greece, but he also defined the farthest point of recall in the imperfect
human memory of his world. The traders, descendants of sedentary peasants, had forgotten
the early times when hunting hordes followed the herds and subsisted by slaying animals and
gathering fruits. In the eyes of Plato, homo f ab er is the beginning of history-just as in the
_ Bible he is the archetype according to which man created his God. The reason is that for the
people of the Mediterranean, and particularly of Egypt, recollection of more remote epochs
had been made impossible by a number of natural catastrophes-earthquakes that shifted the
soil, deluges following on deep penetrations of the sea, the emergence of deserts as a result
of drying winds and torrid sun, and the formation of cataracts by which melted masses of
snow flowed from the heights of the southern plateau into Egypt.
Whatever geological theory one accepts, be it the older view of Blanckenhorn11 or the
more recent position of Sandford, 12 it seems fairly certain that during the paleolithic age the
inhabitants of Egypt lived on a vast plateau abundantly irrigated by rains and affording ample
hunting grounds. Later, when the Nile sank and carved terraces in the plateau, man followed
his source of water. Probably the plateau did not become a desert until the end-of the Old
Stone Age; the tributaries of the Nile dried up, the river bed sank deeper, and finally man
found himself wedged into a strait, long valley separated from the rest of the world by sterile
sand. Terror in the face of extinction threatening from every side, and of a constant shrinkage
of living space, was the spiritual heritage of the survivors of the paleolithic age, and con-
tributed to the shaping of their religion and art throughout the thousands of years of their
creative activity.
Simultaneou~ly with the extinction of life in the vast deserts, a new life came into being
in the narrow valley of the Nile. The nomadic hunters, shut off from the rest of the world,
would rapidly have consumed the animals remaining in the swamps, had not annual floods
renewed the fertility of the soil, and had not man obtained unexpectedly ample food supplies
by learning to plant grain. In several large river valleys, there began, almost-simultaneously,
independent civilizations based on a completely new relation between the forces of nature
and the "consciously creative powers of man. Man sought unceasingly for new materials, tech-
niques, and ideologies by which to develop his creative abilities in the face of superior natural
forces. The alluviated ground, the nature of which remained a mystery to him, produced
what he needed by dint of unremitting labor that entailed a number of equally mysterious
and unknown changes beyond the control of man.
Because of this complex interaction of necessity and creative power, man looked upon
the products of this soil, the periodic harvests of barley and wheat that could not be increased
at will, with feelings that neither the fruit gatherers nor the hunters had ever experienced-
that is, with a desire to store them providently for future security. Thus with the boon of
24
~ ..fj,
'
harvests there was born the need for vessels impervious to moisture and sand, receptacles that
could protect the fruits of nature and man's labor from decay.
Experience taught the neolithic Egyptian that the silt from which the grain grew was
pliant and plastic, that the sun dried it and made it serviceable as a container, and that firing
made it impervious to water. The man who synthesized these separate experiences invented
the clay vessel. And in thereby satisfying one of the most urge!lt social needs, he raised the
spiritual value of the material that not only served the growth of grain but also made possible
the preservation of it. Man saw that his entire existence depended upon a substance whose
origin and nature he did not understand and which he could not produce himself. This cir-
cumstance gives the neolithic pottery of the great river valleys its artistic value: clay was the
material appropriate to the creativ~ spirit of this epoch (just as stone was to that of a later
time). Aside from its material, the invention bears the mark of its time in many other respects.
The man who discovered that clay yielded to his fingers just as the soil yielded to his hoe, and
under the action of fire underwent a transformation that was not obviously analogous to the
metamorphosis of the seed of grain, except that in both cases the end result was positive and
productive- this man transcended the basic experience of paleolithic humanity, whose ener-
gies were applied to nature only destructively.
Clay was from the outset intimately connected with the very foundation of neolithic
existence. Its plastic nature made it available for many purposes. It could be used in storing
grain, in cooking, and for holding food. In addition to having these practical uses, it served
the purposes of religious rites (especially in the cult of the dead) and the social need of dis-
play. Thus the fashioning of clay went beyond gratification of physical needs. This develop-
ment was favored by the fact (erroneously regarded by many writers as a limitation) that the
human hand could produce the synthesis between utilitarian and spiritual purposefulness
without resort to any tool. Thus art grew out of a relation to the essential material from which
food was grown. It is this synthesis of food production and conservation, artistic opport~nit~,
and social gratification, all made possible by the s~me basic material, that lends the prehistonc
pottery of the four earliest known Egyptian civilizations a peculiar fascination t~at does ~ot
inhere in the products of the potter's wheel and the commercial wares of later times, which
bespeak merely technical advance and a more complex spirit.
According to present knowledge, which rests upon a relatively small number.o~ exc~va­
tions dating between 1895 and 1930, the evolution of Egyptian pottery ~an b~ divided mto
three epochs. The illustrative material of the first comes from the excavations m the ~ ayu?1,
Merimda (Lower Egypt), and Tasa (Middle Egypt); that of the second, from Badan (Mid-
dle Egypt) and some localities of Upper Egypt which Petrie identifies under the common
designation of Amratian culture; that of the third, from excavations in both Upper and Lo~er
Egypt (Petrie refers to this epoch as the Gerzean civilization13 ). At first De Morgan and
Petrie14 held decidedly differing opinions as to the rdative age of the materials; today, after
Junker's refutation of Scharff's theory, the order of the three cultures is undisputed. 15 H~w­
ever, the views as to the absolute dates, i. e., the duration of the prehistoric period precedmg
the first dynastic epoch, are widely divergent: the estimates vary by anywhere from five
hundred to five thousand years. Most authors are inclined to fix the beginning date between
5000 and 3200 B.c.
 So far two methods have been proposed for obtaining absolute dates on the basis of
Petrie' s highly useful relative dates (the so-called sequence dates). One was suggested by
Petrie himself 16 and is based on the present height of the Nile alluvium, which is eight meters;
in this correlation, one meter is taken to represent a period offrom eight_hundred to one thou-
sand years. If this holds, the alluviation began between 6000 and 4500 B.c., and the known
prehistoric era began an indeterminate but considerable number of years later. Petrie himself
does not abide by this calculation, since he fixes the beginning of the Fayum culture at about
9000 B.c. and that of the Badari culture at 7 500 B.c. The second method, proposed by Randall-
Maclver,17 is based on the relative data obtained by a computation of the number of bodies
yielded by excavation, and leads to the conclusion that the portion of the prehistoric
period from the Amratian culture on (second stage of the Second Culture) lasted not more
than from five hundred to one thousand years. How tar back the First Culture.goes, and when
the period of the dynasties began, remain open questions. Assuming with Eduard Meyer that
the latter date is 3200 B.c., the Amratian period began between 4200 and 3700 B.c.; but if the
dynastic period began, as Waddell asserts, in 2 700 B.c., the beginning of the Amratian period
would date between 3 700 and 3 200 B.c.
A third method of computation may be derived from the hitherto unknown fact that
in the so:-called ornamentation of the Amratian culture, representations of Sirius play a con-
siderable part. On the basis of astronomical calculations involving the heliacal rising of this
star, the beginning of the Amratian culture would fall about 4000 B.C. In other connections
later it will be shown that the dates of the known period of Egyptian prehistory should be
fixed between 4200 and 3200 (or 2700) B.c.
26
CHAPTER II
THE FIRST CULTURE
THE pottery specimens here grouped as belonging to the First Culture are of varied
origin and character. Those of the Fayum come exclusively from isolated dwellings; those
of Merimda, from.graves inside the houses of the settlement; those of T asa, from settlements
and from graves situated outside these. All of them belong strictly to the Stone Age; in the
Fayum and in Merimda no copper was found, while Tasa yielded evidence of the arrival of
the tribe that must have been the first in Egypt to know copper. This absence of metal is.con-
nected with primitive forms of social organization and with the circumstance that these forms
varied from place to place. The First Culture is a lo~al culture, showing traditions dating back
to the paleolithic and mesolithic ages and varying according to locality. While this does not
exclude certain similarities among definite kinds of pottery, these similarities probably derive
more from a general uniformity of cultural level and of daily needs than from interlocal com-
munication and mutual dependence. The development within the neolithic age itself, from
the Fayum through Merimda to Tasa, prob~bly played only an insignificant part; the real
development began in T asa under the pressure of immigration and then progressed rapidly
through the stage of the Badarian to that of the Amratian civilization.
1. THE FAYUM POTTERY
[I, II]
The dominant form of the vessels of the Fayum 1 as reproduced by Caton-Thompson is
that of an ovoid, usually with broad base and faintly curved sides contracting at the top [I, 1].
The height only slightly exceeds the breadth, and the cross-sectional shape often approximates
that of a square. The longitudinal section of such a vessel has the form of a broadening curve
that becomes almost rectilinear at the upper ends [II, 2]. What this form suggests is a protec-
tive wall, with the weight tending downward and gradually lightening toward the top. The
implication of protection as aga!nst the outside and of pressure in the direction of the earth,
as well as the final contraction, shows that the practical and the artistic purpose are one. This
form expresses the life of the husbandman, who stores food and enjoys the security of a
reserve of provisions more than the abundance of his acquisition.
What I call the dominant form is represented in a group of vessels clearly manifesting
this unity of shape, purpose, and artistic expression; it is the one that occurs most frequently
and determines derivative forms on the basis of discernible principles. The first of these prin-
ciples is that of inversion, which supplies us with two different forms, here described in terms
of the longitudinal cross section. (a) The oval is based on its narrower end and the side
terminates before the curve begins to bend inward, so that its branches either point outward
or approximate the vertical. The significant feature, in addition to the inversion of the oval,
is its reduction to a semi-oval [I, 2, 3]. (b) The oval is again based on its narrower end, but
27
this end is now flattened into a horizontal; the side terminates only after the curve has turned
inward, so that the vessel is broadest directly under the rim [I, 5]. ( c) A third form is a
variation of that described under a: it is angular instead of round, and there is a great differ-
ence in measure between base and rim (in the ratio 1: 4). The height of the vessel is equal
to one half of the sum of the diameters of the rim and the base, which again reminds us of the
relationship to the square suggested in the dominant form. The sides now form straight,
oblique lines that cut the base at angles many times greater than those formed by these lines
with the rim [I, 7].
These thr~e forms have differing artistic meaning. In the a and c types it is determined
by the precipitousness of the rise from the b.ase and by the distance between the extremities
of the curve, the divergence of which suggests the idea of infinity. In the a type the oval form
preserves the continuity between base and sides, while in the angular type the three elements
- base, sides, and rim-are clearly articulated, and the differences in magnitude between the
lines and between the angles further enhance this articulation. Both the a and the c type are
considerably smaller than the dominant form as regards absolute measurements, particularly
height. In diametric contrast to the a type, the b type is determined by a long and constantly
widening lateral curve that finally turns inward. By this unexpected contraction the form is
saved from the tensionless debouchment of the a or c type. Since the curve proceeds inward
for only a short distance, the opening is still considerably broader than the base-a feature that
connects this derived form with the two others, and justifies the characterization of all three
as inversions, i. e., in all of them a broad, heavy part is placed above a narrow, lighter part.
Since we .do not know earlier vessels than those of the Fayum, it is impossible to say
whether these three derivations constitute a chronological sequence, whether they are of
synchronous origin, or whether they should be regarded as unrelated to one another. While
the dominant form of the Fayum lapses over a long period of time, the three derived for!Ils,
in constantly new variations, recur frequently in the course of the entire later development.
The second principle of d~rivation in Fayum pottery is that of balancing of contrasts. It
manifests itself in two very different ways: ( 1) in creating a whole that enhances contrasts,
( 2) in shaping a whole that weakens contrasts. The dominant form presents two contrasts:
one is that between the broadly curved base and the narrower, horizontal rim; the other is
that between the bulge near the bottom and the contraction at the top. This latter con-
trast is balanced by the inturned curve of the side, which is widest at about the middle of the
height [I, 8]. This may be accompanied by a balancing of proportions and forms affecting
the base and the top. The pots so shaped approximate in cross section either the barrel form
or the ellips~, according to whether the bottom is horizontal or curved; the salient feature is
that the contrasts in the contours are not neutralized but symmetrically maintained and
accompanied by asymmetries, with rich contrasting effects. The weakening of contrasts is
achieved by a balancing that results in uncertain position, indeterminate curvature, a softened
and vague continuity, and structureless flow [I, 9] .Jfhe expressive values of these two prin-
ciples of derivation, which seemingly are closely related, are directly opposed: on the one
hand we have the sharp precision of a clearly organized form, visual and plastic self-suffi-
ciency; on the other we have an elusive fluidity, a lack of form meaning something that can
only be guessed.
The second principle of derivation is cited here less for the purpose of asserting a his-
28
torical fact than in order to cast light on the inner connection between all the types of the
Fayum. It is true that .the historical fact may mean two things: ( 1) the derived forms had
prototypes in the period preceding the Fayum culture; ( 2) the principles of derivation
were also principles of development within the Fayum epoch. Material ground for the first
interpretation is completely lacking and could be supplied only through new excavations.
In support of the second interpretation we can only make inferences by analogy from later,
chronologically established facts. Such inferences seem to indicate that balancing of opposi-
tions represents an earlier stage than structureless reduction of them, and this would add
a chronological difference to the typological difference.
The third principle of derivation is that of creation of new contrasts, particularly with
regard to proportions. While the dominant form (section) maintains its relation to the square,
some very low, wide forms and some forms of greatly increased height arise. The former
[I, 10] cannot be derived from the archetype. The latter [I, 11] have a clear and close con-
nection with it, and perhaps it is this that imposes a limit upon their divergence from the
square: the width is never exceeded by the larger measurement in the golden section of the
height. It is as though there was a clear feeling that if this limit should be exceeded, the link
between the original and the derived form would be destroyed. The only two Fayum vessels
dating from the predynastic period2 still display this proportion.
The expressive values of the proportions of the several forms are very different; this can
be explained largely on the basis of their difference of relation to the human eye. The approxi-
mately square forms confront man with a wall; they impede the eye, which has no means of
mastering the opposing object. As the form becomes more slender, it becomes easier to en~om­
pass it from both sides, the eyes take it in like two encircling hands; man as the apperceptive
subject and the vessel as the object confronting him become equals. The lesser the height of
the vessel, the more it is seen from above; the eye penetrates into it, pushes it down, glides
over its surface-the inner, not the outer surface. The resistance offered by the outer wall,
the feeling that the body is encompassable, perceptual dominance of the inner surface-these
are quite different basic experiences, and each can be connected with the others in different
ways. The Fayum potter, in discovering the ratio 3: 5, which is an element of the golden
section, realized the synthesis between the resistance of the object and the encompassing
faculty of the subject, and thereby defined the degree of dependence and of freedom that
marked the life of the Fayum peasant. This synthesis of two fundamental expressive values
may explain the persistence of the form type here discussed.
In addition to these derivations from the dominant form, there is also the special form
in which a flat bottom is curved upward and outward. The base is an oval. The expression
suggests an association with water and gliding forms, e. g., fishes, but no analogy to an actual
thing is apparent, unless we assume that an analogy to a boat was intended [II, 1]. Another
special form is a vessel growing out of a foot and widening sharply in such a way that a con-
cave arc arises between the base and the rim [II, 2, 3]. The whole readily suggests a Y form,
and probably has a connection with the later vessels mounted on feet shaped like udders.
What were the original purposes of the various vessels? How can we infer the nature of
the human needs answered by the various types? The bulk of them served for storing food
and were industrial rather than household vessels. Possibly the tublike vessels were used as
household containers; the second special form suggests a ritual vessel. But it is difficult to see
29
 in the vessels with wide openings anything but bowls and cups. Some goblet-like vessels
may have served for drinking [II, 4]. We are unable to form the slightest notion as to the
ratio in numbers between vessels of daily use and vessels of religious use, because no tombs
of the period have been discovered.
In the present state of the excavations in Egypt, it is impossible to trace the historical
antecedents of the types of vessels found in the Fayum. But even the question as to the models
for them can be raised only conditionally, because we are here as far from the beginnings of
pottery as from those of agriculture. The dominant form seems to me indisputably to have -
been derived from that of the egg, and to confirm the conjecture that originally eggshells
served as storage vessels. From the published illustrations of plaited vessels3 there would seem
to be no co11nection with basketry. It must have been the very inadequacy of matting as
a protection against sand that made the Fayum potters give up any attempt to imitate its forms.
But the almost squared vessel with straight sides, on a base only slightly curved, suggests an-
other early use of clay, i. e., for lining a well, a pit, etc. Finally, it would be surprising if man
had not established a form connection in his use of stone and clay, the chief raw materials of his
fashioning activity. In the Faymn remains the shapes ofa few adzes,4 with their broad backs,
their only slightly narrower edges, and in their proportions, are quite analogous to the dom-
inant pottery form and some of its derivations. But this analogy is valid only if the adz is not
seen in the position in which it operates, namely, with its edge turned to the earth; later the
ve~sel forms are analogous to those of the implements in the operational position. It might be
different course. Caton-Thompson bases her interpretation on the assumption_that the set-
tlements followed the sinking of the lake shore. This is _not enough to explain the disappear-
ance of agriculture and pottery, since the inhabitants who survived the invasion were too
numerous to live by fishing alone.
What has been found in the neolithic settlements of the First.Culture? Among the dis-
coveries are a large number of irregularly cone-shaped fire pits dug in the earth. Their dis-
position does not follow any recognizable order, so that they can hardly have been fireplaces
within well-ordered human dwellings; they were probably only primitive kilns. So-called
granaries ·were found, i. e., holes in the earth lined with reeds and straw "woven iri the
coiled, overcast manner"; a large number of these were situated in groups, so that common
storage of crops must be inferred. There were a number of implements for grain processing
(hand mills, corn grinders, sickles, hammers, threshing sticks, stone hoes). Further there were
weapons, particularly spears and arrowheads in several variants, indicating that hunting was
practiced; this is confirmed by the skeletal finds, among them bones of hippopotamuses and
crocodiles. Finally there were baskets and ropes, with the implements required for making
these, such as stone whorls and bone needles, awls, etc., indicating lively handicraft activity
among the women, who planted and processed flax. No vestiges of posts for windscreens, or
even of holes for such posts, were found, nor any dwelling pits. Only a very small number of
objects of personal use were recovered. The general impression is as follows:
1. In this so-called settlement we are dealing not with human dwellings but with places

inferred that the user of the implement was not the maker of the vessel, i. e., that there was
a division of labor between man and woman.
The questions relating to the purposes and the models of the vessels must be referred to
the study of the whole of the culture revealed by the excavations. But although the excava-
tions were made with great care, they serve much better to give us a clear picture of the
sequence of different cultures than to afford any even relatively complete idea of any o~e
of work and storage. As regards Merimda, Junker explicitly distinguishes between houses
(i.e., oval clay pits for sleeping and for shelter against cold) and tents for protection against
winds (frame scaffoldings connected by woven walls) -on the one hand, and workplaces
under the open sky on the other. The fire pits served less for preparation of food than for
drying of grain, as is proven by the insufficiently baked pots found in them.
2. In addition to highly developed female skills, there was an elaborate technique of

of them.
In the Fayum basin Caton-Thompson found vestiges of the earliest mesolithic settlement
(i. e., dating from the time of the great climatic change), settlements of the first neolithic
epoch, at thirty-three meters above sea level, microlithic implements at seven meters above
sea level, and a settlement dating from the third (Gerzean) civilization- in other words, the
same ground was occupied or reoccupied despite the natural catastrophes and epochal changes
in the mode of procuring subsistence and in the organization·of labor. This offers clear proof
that fertile soil was difficult to find in _the period of transition from nomadic to partially
sedentary life. Caton-Thompson does not consider the microlithic implements to be fragments
of earlier, less' developed meso1ithic ones, but explains them as due to the decay of the first
neolithic settlement after invasion by savage tribes reduced it to a much lower cultural level.
This is unlikely, for the conquerors would thus have deprived themselves of all the advan-
tages of an economy based on foresight, introducing them to cultivation, drying, and storing
of grain. It is barely conceivable that a highly developed technique of stone working, which-
applied both chipping and grinding at each end of the tool, should decay without being re-
placed, under conditions of population increase, by more efficient tool making with a better
material; but it is quite unlikely that all vestiges of pottery and all agricultural implements
should disappear. The history of the settlements on the Fayum lake probably followed a
30
· fashioning flint, which was practiced by men. These two skills served two methods of pro-
curing food- agriculture and hunting (or war, since the fighting power of the male popula-
tion m~st have been considerable). Cattle breeding seems to have played a minor role; but
possibly domestic animals were kept near the dwellings so far undiscovered.
3. A considerable discrepancy appears between the primitive agricultural implements
and the highly developed "collective prescience, thrift, and industry" (as Caton-Thompson
established). This discrepancy indicates, first, that even at this earliest point of known neo-
lithic prehistory we are past the beginning of the cultivation of grain, one species of which,
barley, is of Egyptian origin, i. e., was not imported from other parts of northern Africa or
from Asia Minor; it points, second, to the determinant factor in all later Egyptian history-
the inadequacy of the existing agricultural tools, which was of necessity compensated by
effective social organization.
4. The results of cultivation of grain, even though the population could not live on it
alone, were not inconsiderable, and combined with those of hunting and perhaps of cattle
breeding reflect a well-being out of scale with the meager discoveries of objects of personal
use. Either possessions of this kind were kept in other places, such as dwellings or graves, or
the absence of articles of personal adornment, which is also striking in Merimda, has a specific
reason.
 5. The few nonlocal raw materials were present in such small quantity that any assump-
tion of regular commercial connections with the outside world is out of the question.
Obviously the key to understanding of this Fayum culture lies in the evidences of col-
lective processing and storing of the grain harvest and of a resulting separation of dwellings
and places of work and storage. Yet the meaning of all this is not clear, because the excava-
tions uncovered only a small section of the everyday life of the Fayum; we are confronted
here with the fact, so characteristic of Egypt, that the sites of living supply us with less in-
formation about the concrete existence of the people than do the sites of the dead. The
possible hypotheses are as follows: ( 1) Communal drying and storage of grain assured better
protection against attack and theft in the period between harvest and consumption-:-this
being also the period of the absence of the men. It also facilitated defense and released a
greater number of men to hunt game or bring in the spoils of war. (2) Communal storage
was correlated with communal cultivation,of the fields, and this in turn with a largely col-
lective life-which would explain the presumable joining together of all the dwellings and
their separation from the places of work and storage. All this would reflect an attempt to
remedy the discrepancy between implements and needs by means of a communistic social
organization. (3) Work was performed by a backward, half-enslaved population in the
service of a small group of powerful warriors; these laborers may have lived on the rim of
the lake, subsisting on fishing by means of obsolescent implements, while the master class
was encamped near the storage places.
The archaeological finds to date do not give us a sufficient basis for preference among
these three possibilities; nor is it possible to draw an inference a posteriori from the pottery
forms in regard to the social forces that determined them, sharp as are the differences between
a communistic society (with division of labor and mutual complementing of the sexes) and
a society in which a master caste oppresses and exploits the mass of the population. Advanced
knowledge of flint technique, agriculture, and pottery could have given superiority either
to a younger generation of the microlithic population or to an invading caste of warriors who
were likewise of Egyptian origin. In either case, however, it must be assumed that the popu-
lation living on the lower ground by the lake was the older one, and that the settlement did
not move to lower ground with the sinking of the lake shore. It would follow from this that
the agricultural settlement representing the first Egyptian neolithic culture is essentially
younger than has been assumed, and that it cannot be fixed at 5000 :a.c., much less at 9000 :a.c.
In my opinion the most natural and most plausible explanation is this: Under pressure
of climatic conditions, the oldest paleolithic population slowly moved to lower ground with
the sinking of the lake, and became sedentary as it reached the lowest level; it remained en-
tirely attached to the Late Capsian culture of northern Africa, did not know agriculture, and
lived chiefly by fishing, for which its small and primitive implements were sufficient. Later,
under the impetus of social and political development, other Egyptians, who knew agricul- '
ture and pottery and had a strong hunting and mili ary tradition, came to the Fayum. Their
migration may have had connection with the raids of the beaker folk in Miqdle Egypt, which
would help to explain the presence in the Fayum of sea shells from the Red Sea and even from
the Indian Ocean, as well as the rarer finds of microlite feldspar and turquoise, which prob-
ably came from the eastern desert, the Sudan, or the Sinai Peninsula; The newcomers settled
on the most fertile soil and adopted a rigidly communistic organization that, combined with
an elaborate divison of labor between the sexes, assured a comfortable existence and enabled
them to carry on peaceful exchange with the older settlers; this is evidenced by the mingling
of the two kinds of implements at the middle level.
This interpretation is also most consistent with the stylistic peculiarities of the Fayum
pottery-the primitive, impure material, i.e., clay mixed with straw, the wall-like, monu-
mental vessel form, the approximately squared shape that does not permit of encompassment
by the eye or hand, though later the forms are somewhat taller and gradually develop sym-
metrical curves that permit of encompassment. We have here a community both free and
rigidly organized, gradually rising from helplessness in face of nature to domination of na-
ture through its own strength and will, freeing itself from elementary need through con-
scious social activity.
The First Culture is the product of a group that fled to a new site to avoid the influence
of immigrants of another culture and developed its own skills, preserving its traditions
and struggling actively against nature. It clung so thoroughly to tradition that even later the
Gerzean settlement in the Fayum did not fashion ivory, although the material was present, and
the number of the different kinds of fashioned stone found there does not exceed that found
in Merimda. In this sense, Caton-Thompson is fully justified in saying that "the local physical
conditions were peculiarly stimulating to the creation, upon a pre-existing neolithic basis
acquired elsewhere, of a more advanced social organization than had been practiced before."
But if the neolithic civilization of the Fayum began under the impact of events in Middle
Egypt, as we shall see by the evidences in T asa, its later development was parallel with that
of the regions to the south-from the T asian through the Badarian to the Amratian culture.
In that case it is unnecessary to assume a temporal break between the First and the Third
Culture in the Fayum. But the differences between Lower and Upper Egypt are pointed up
all the more sharply. One cause of these was the necessity of coming to terms with another,
foreign, and in some respects higher culture. While relatively static human energies operated
in the north, intensely dynamic energies were at work in the south.
2. MERIMDA
[111]
While the Fayum culture was created by a community whose social organization we
can discern only by conjecture, Merimda5 presents an agglomeration of economic units scat-
tered over a vast terrain. In the Fayum everything seems reduced to the simplest terms and
to a generalization of needs; in Merimda everything is differentiated, as though the energies
of the people had been bent upon achieving increasingly greater comfort in the course of
gratifying their daily needs. Workplaces were separated from dwellings. The oval wind-
screens had wooden frames and woven walls. The oval dwelling pits (these varied greatly in
size, according to the number and age of the dwellers) were dug deep into the ground and
supplied with clay bottles to catch water.
These pits were lined with clay in various ways. Some were simply coated without the
use of wooden stays, the pits being narrowed at the top to facilitate t he roofing. In others
the clay was applied in layers, each layer being allowed to dry before the next was added.
Some facings were made by the more advanced pise technique. From a mass of Nile mud
33
 mixed with chaff, lumps of various sizes were formed by hand and utilized as tiles. The ends
of the oval were built in one piece, whereby the builders avoided the difficulty of forming
the rounding portions of the wall from angular blocks. When the tops of these dwellings
rose above the ground, they were faced with clay on the outside as well.
The builders were concerned mainly with having a solid foundation in the earth. They
anchored the walls on a layer of more stable material (bones, stones, or shards), which gave
them a floor above the ground level, or they sank conical lumps of clay into the bottom of
the pit; the upper ends of these formed the floor and supported the walls. These dwelling pits
mark the beginnings of the structural thinking that led step by step to brick buildings. We
find in them also the prototype of the staircase: a hippopotamus tibia was set vertically against
the wall and fixed in the ground, or placed obliquely and cemented into the clay of the wall,
or a truncated clay cone was raised up on sticks. Several types of roof were contrived by
laying reed mats either flat across the upper rim of the pit or over a primitive gable framework
made by tying together two posts.
A similar differentiation in the satisfaction of needs is displayed in the farm buildings.
Archaeologists have found baskets sunk into the ground, large clay containers, threshing
floors (these are circular hollows, four meters in diameter, lined with matwork), funnel-like
hollows that probably served as mortars, storage jugs near the hearths (these were half sunk
into the ground), and several kinds of fireplaces, which acquire a special significance among
a sedentary people. Junker distinguishes four types: flat fire hollows; fire hollows walled in
with the hand-shaped mud briquettes, whose surfaces served for baking flat cakes; an ar-
rangement of two juxtaposed clay lumps grooved to admit air; another made of two conical
clumps of burnt mud with flattened sides turned inward, creating a considerable fire chamber.
Different degrees of heat were used for ~ifferent purposes, and the development of these
various forms was obviously motivated by the desire to intensify or regulate the heat.
On every farm, the buildings used for productive purposes were surrounded by in-
closures made of long reeds set close together and tied transversely at the top and bottom;
these also penned in the smaller domestic animals. The houses were situated along an irregu-
larly shaped street, which facilitated local intercourse and provided a lane along which
animals were led to the watering place. Small wonder that these settlers clung to their chosen
sites, merely adding new structures: they had arranged their lives as purposefully and com-
fortably as possible.6
This village subsisted by agriculture, cattle breeding, hunting, and handicrafts. The
numerous storage vessels and storage places indicate that the quantities of spelt and barley
accumulated individually were quite considerable. These neolithics had long saws, bent like
sickles, that were a considerable improvement upon those of the Fayum, because they were
made by overlapping thin pieces to provide a continuous cutting edge. The threshing pits
and mortars have been mentioned. Am?ng the d,0mestic animals pigs predominated, but
there were also cows, goats, sheep, and dogs. The settlers hunted hippopotamuses, crocodiles,
wildcats, and antelopes; fishing was done with nets and hooks.
Crafts were intensively plied: the women wove baskets from native reeds, and spindle
whorls bear witness to their ability to make cloth. Cured hides were not used for wrapping
the dead, as in the Second Culture, but served either as clothing or for covering the huts. The
34
men fashioned weapons or implements from flint and also from other stone, such as quartzite,
granite, nephrite, lime, basalt, and jasper.
This use of both flint and other stone for implements is particularly noteworthy, because
there was also much variety of form and treatment. It is an inescapable inference that two
cultures mingled in the delta region. Flint was fashioned, as in the F ayum, by two techniques,
chipping and grinding. Contrasting with tools made of flint, there is the celt, which Menghin7
conjectures to be of east-Asiatic origin; it has entirely disappeared in the Second Culture. The
working of hard stone in.to industrial implements and weapons in Merimda-the discoveries
include many examples of pear- and apple-shaped clubs, which are common in Palestine,
but occur in other Egyptian localities only in the Third Culture (Gerzean)-is all the more
striking because production of stone vessels and palettes was then only in its beginnings. Bones
and ivory also were fashioned into tools (but not into combs, as later) , and .spoons were in
use. Implements for the manufacture of tools were also found.
Evidence of considerable differences in property holdings and wealth has not appeared,
although some of the weapons have a purely decorative character. Therefore it must be as-
sumed that the various crafts did not outgrow the closed family economy and b_ecome
autonomous-excepting perhaps the craft of making implements and weapons, which could
easily become a factor of power. However, the "democracy" assumed by Veblen8 for the
neolithic Baltic Sea basin is easily conceivable in relation to Merimda.
In striking contrast to the presence of these crafts and the apparent zest with which they
were applied in making all kinds of implements and weapons (e.g., straight-sided lances,
arrowheads, harpoons, needles, awls) is the absence of adornment and pleasure in adornment;
bracelets, rings, and earrings are completely lacking here as in the Fayum, a phenomenon
hardly to be explained as due to poverty in either case.
Did all such articles of dress and adornment originally play a part in the cult of the
dead? And was this cult during the First Culture of such character that it gave no room for
these objects? The cult of the dead in Merimda had three peculiarities that so far have not
been found in association in any other Egyptian locality. ( 1) The corpses remained not only
in the settlement but in the individual dwellings; each family kept its dead and probably
placed them with their faces turned toward the hearth. ( 2) The corpses were flexed, lying
on the right side, with the hands on the mouth or even with one finger stuck into the mouth,
with seeds of grain near by; in only one example does the hand lie in front of the face. ( 3) T he
dead were not wrapped in hides or matting, and no articles of food or objects of adornment
have been found in the burials.
The mos~ logical explanation seems to me to be that the corpses were kept in the house,
or, more accurately, at the hearth (to warm and revive them) because it was assumed that
the dead, who had been part of the family, continued to help in the work of the household
just as they continued to partake of its meals. Since their help was thus assured, there was
no need to fear their inclination to cast spells (the seat of this power was thought to be the
heart) or actual spells (potency of the evil eye); on the contrary, their help was the more
desired because in view of child mortality and the frequent casQalties of the chase, it was
urgently needed. The idea that the corpse must be preserved was absent, as well as the idea
that the deceased must be provided with special, magic means of survival: after all, he had
35
·not left the hearth, and at the hearth the living cast spells for themselves and for the dead
in order to obtain the same things for both. The relation between persons was in principle
unchanged by the death of one party; it remained what it had been before, a friendly and
mutually helpful cooperation to the same ends. However, the dead man's function in this
unitary' familial sphere of work and living was restricted to the spiritual, magic contribution.
Fundamental changes had to take place within prehistoric society before this mesolithic
tradition, this simple attitude toward the dead as friends, members of the family, was re-
placed by an ambivalent belief under which the dead were exiled from community with the
living into a graveyard existence, remaining nevertheless tied to the living, who preserved
their bodies in local graves but sent their souls as far away as possible, fearing and opposing
their magic powers but at the same time furthering and using them. , flattened, in which case the form lacks the internal contrast with the oval. Either of these
The great importance of the excavations of Merimda in relation to the history of re-
ligion lies in the fact that they void the philosophical question as to the general reasons for
the cult of the dead, together with the sterile alternate answers- that it is referable to motives
of fear or piety- and replace them with the historical question: What were the changing
forms of the cult of the dead, and what were the soc_ial (not psychological) causes for each
form and each change? It becomes clear that the domestic cult of the dead that prevailed in
Merimda can no more be explained as due to piety than the cult of graveyards can be explained
as due to fear.
The decisiv/e question for the understanding of neolithic Egypt is: How was the domestic
cult transformed into the graveyard cult? And it should be kept in mind that the domestic
cult cannot have been the actual starting point, for this cult in itself presupposes the dissolu-
tion of the clan and the establishment of the family as a free, closed, differentiated working
community. Moreover, the absence of corpses in the Fayum may be explainable in the light
of the custom of burial in water.
The character of the pottery of Merimda is consistent with the individuated domestic
economy, which found its most striking e~pression in the cult of the dead. The potters reveal
less a consistent will to create than the desire to contrive certain practical facilities by adding
handles, feet, and holes for suspension to useful vessels. Furthermore, while in the Fayum
everything is determined by a single dominant form whose heavy, rustic expression persists
even in its inversions and symmetrizations, we have in Merimda a juxtaposition of strongly
individualized forms. The absolute dimensions are considerably smaller in Merimda; the cross
section only rarely approximates the proportions of the square, and now the deviation is not
in the height but in the width. Low vessels predominate, tall forms have disappeared. The
large vessels for industrial uses no longer seem to have the similarity to the smaller household
containers that is characteristic of the Fayum; the smaller vessels in Merimda are more varied.
Man as consumer has gained considerably in importance over man as producer. Since the
Merimda pottery is without the unity in design imposed by a specific ·dominant form, and
since strong local differences are quite especially cha.t"acteristic of the first civilization, I shall
attempt to define the general character of the Merimda types by comparing them with the
Fayum types.
A, The dominant form of the Fayum (an ovoid that is. wide and heavy at the bottom,
contracted at the top) is wholly absent or so completely transformed that the relation is in-
teresting only because of the difference. Junker, in an account published in 1929, shows a
36
~·i:
v'J~
vessel that bulges decidedly near the bottom, but this expansion is followed by a contrac-
tion, after which the curve oends slightly outward just under the rim. T he ratio of width to
height in the longitudinal section is 6: 5, i. e., the square is modified in width (not in height,
as in the Fayum). Most of the factors that separately or together are characteristic of Merimda
are subsumed in the following features : the inward flow of the curve after it passes the turning
point, in which there is· no regard for plastic form values, and the proportion in which
the horizontal dimension predominates. The squared variation of the oval found in the
Fayum appears in Merimda in three examples on a greatly reduced scale [Ill, 2]. The con-
traction near the top is greater, and the lower curve is either rounder- in this case the form
of the section as a whole fluctuates between the oval and the square outline- or entirely
modifications leads to the same result: the free play of contrasts is eliminated, the form loses
its clearly defined expressive value and remains fluid and vague.
B. Among the derived types of the Fayum is the symmetrized form, which is also de-
cidedly reduced and in which the section deviates from the square in that its width exceeds
its height [III, 4]. The tendency to avoid an increase in the height is even more general than
the tendency to avoid the square itself. In the Fayum the heightening of the vertical side of
the square signifies the confident lifting of a heavy mass to the level of consciousness, thus
asserting the superiority of dynamic energy over inertia. In Merimda this expression has dis-
appeared. Here we have consistent motionlessness, mass remaining captive within itself. And
this disappearance of all conflicting stresses reveals the meaning of the great reduction of scale:
these people did not dare to oppose any object, any force, because they could not afford to
awaken resistance in themselves. Their products were small, bec:ause their psychic energy was
restricted and incapable of asserting itself through struggle.
C. The Merimda pottery is most frequently related to the Fayum vessels with sides
slanting freely to wide openings. The difference between the two is all the clearer because
here for the first time we find equal absolute dimensio11:s. The base-rim ratio 1: 4 is lowe~ed
to th,e relation 1: 1 Yz, essentially through widening of the base. While the Fayum potter
stresses sharp angles, the Merimda potter blurs the junctures, and the angles formed by the
side with the base and the rim are here much more nearly commensurate than in the Fayum.
The vigorously differenti~ted form whose opposed elements were related only through the
inner affinity of the proportions has been transformed into a soft, blurred shape completely
devoid of contrasts. And this conciliatory blurring becomes ever more characteristic as the
height sinks below one half the sum of base and rim- it sinks as low as to one fourth or one
fifth of this sum-or as base an~ rim achieve equal width, or as the juncture of the base with
the sides changes from an angulation into a concave or convex curve [III, 6, 9], or as the sides
actually cease to bend outward. This type, rare in the Fayum, is frequent in Merimda and
goes through numerous variations [Ill, 7, 8].
. The fact that the potters concentrated so much on the joining or on the transition from
base to side that they invented many variants for it, can be explained on the ground not only
of their technical caution but also of their tendency to produce a flowing movement. T hey
disregarded formal harmony and achieved only a sequence of concave and convex curves
without definite relations. This sequence had a purely mediating function; it never led to
form, except for the quite practical form of a foot. Such qualities might suggest that the
37
,
potters were women, and later we shall see that it is this very type of vessel that is painted in
the typically feminine crosslined style of the Amratian period. The frequency with which it
occurs in Merimda may point to the special and outstanding social role of woman in the
settlement. This would also best account for the handles, the loops for hanging the vessels,
and even the incised patterns.-
D. In the Fayum there also developed the type of low oval vessel in which the lateral
curve rises from the base so abruptly that it seems to -fling the rim outward. The elliptical
profile of the Fayum can be conceived as a curve intermediate between a straight line and a
semicircle, containing and suggesting both, although this very clearly felt contrast remains
plastically undeveloped. Merimda renounced this type of profile, choosing either a greater
approximation of the rectilinear base, which then curves just shortly before the side begins .
[III, IO], or the semicircle [III, 11 ], which in the Fayum was avoided or accompanied by a
considerable increase in the height of the vessel.
These different form tendencies lead to different proportions. The ratios 1: 1 and 1: 2,
which predominate in this group in Merimda, never occur in the Fayum. In the Fayum the
outward movement of the side was occasionally given up; in Merimda the side is usually
vertical or very slightly contracted near the rim. As a result, this type of low vessel acquires
a completely new character: despite its small size, it becomes bulky and awkward. Although
the width is reduced at the base to eliminate heaviness, the only result is clumsiness, for the
absence of contrasts makes for a dead mass unless a counterweight is created by other means.
One of these means we have seen before, i. e., that of a transition from a concave to a convex
form. In one case we find it applied immediately under the rim, after the lower side curve
has already turned inward [III, 12]. There is no intention of plastically working out the con-
trast; nevertheless, its presence shows an attempt to offset heaviness by means of a .flowing and
turning movement. The invention of the inturning curve and its combination with the out-
ward turning curve must in the present state of our knowledge be attributed to the potters of
Merimda; this is also true of the experiments with handles and feet.
E. The high-necked vase type that in the Fayum appears as an inversion of the dominant
form, is in Merimda also transformed into a low oval form. Since the curve is decidedly
shortened at its rise, and the bulge is greatly broadened, the wall takes on a widely cupping
form, and the tapering under the rim acquires a stronger accent. The change of absolute and
relative dimensions produces a new shape, and here for the first time the reduction in size has
the effect of strengthening the contrasts and lightening the mass.
F. A fragment of an oval pot9 that is narrower at the base than at the top, represents
a shape entirely different from any of those of the Fayum. This is the first vessel we encounter
that cannot stand by itself; probably it had a kind of circular footing. For discovery of the
laws of development in the forms it is of the greatest importance that this type appears in
Merimda, where we have found that the predominant tendency was to eliminate contrast in
favor of width, with a consequent effect of clumsiness. We learn that when plastically
unformed, merely felt contrasts are disjoined, one kind of unilateral preference can arise as
well as another: we have seen this in the case of the ellipse that can become either a straight line
or a semicirde. It is this type of vessel, slenderized, that we encounter again at a later epoch
of prehistory in Merimda. It may have been specially suitable for storing liquids.
38
G. forms that are practically new arise in the flat plate, which testifies to the growing
articulation of material existence, and in the fairly deep clay spoon.
It should be clear now why the potters of Merimda (who were perhaps women) failed
to develop one dominant form. Fusion or disjoining of contrasts held down the free impulse
to create a plastic form, just as closeness to the earth sharpened the inclination to practical
improvements, such as handles or feet. The potters did not aim at formal unity, but responded
to the multiplicity of life. With this attitude went a homogeneous taste (not to be confused
with will to form) that also devised the incised ornamentation around the vessel. It is "an
engraved pattern of parallel angles inserted into one another; it might be called a branch,
feather, or herringbone pattern." 10 The continuous repetition of the pattern here does not
foreshadow the later aesthetic principle of cumulation, because clarity of arrangement, quan-
titative limitation, and a consistent termination are lacking. Similarly, the meaning of these
angles is abstract and indeterminate. If these ornaments are taken to re.fleet the taste of
. women, it may further be conjectured that there was no tension between the sexes, either
because the men were often absent on distant hunts-this might be inferred from the pre-
dominance of women's corpses-or because the men who remained at home had tastes analo-
gous to the women's. In examining the stone implements of Merimda one is struck by the fact
that frequently the edges and tips, as in the adzes and clubs, are blunted, and give an impression
of softness: these implements are more like weights to be rolled than incising tools to be driven
into the earth or into some hard material. Among all Egyptian prehistoric remains no arrow
or lance heads are as ineffectually contrived for their function as those of Merimda.
This bluntness of weapons doubtless testifies to the productive superiority of the culti- ·
vators over the hunters. The people of the Fayum transferred the cooperative activity char-
acteristic of the paleolithic civilization from hunting to agriculture; the people of Merimda
developed those paleolithic elements which strengthened the individuality of the family. Can
we therefore conclude that in Merimda the cultivation of fields developed gradually from the
gardening work of women, while in the Fayum grain was grown from the beginning of the
settlement? If so, the division of labor between man and woman may have been of a different
.type in Merimda, and the different roles played by the sexes found expression in the pottery
forms. For in Merimda the latter impress us as being fe!llinine just as strongly as those in the
Fayum seem to us masculine. Thus from the outset we are forewarned against any hasty
generalization concerning the sex of the potters. It should never be forgotten-Menghih
stresses this explicitly with regard to Merimda-that even the earliest known neolithic civili-
zations were complex structures with highly diversified components and that here, even more
than with regard to the pale_olithic era, the term primitive is merely a screen for intellectual
laziness.
Therefore, while the local specificity of Merimda can be defined, there is practically no
possibility of adequately analyzing the developmental stages within the Merimda period. But
the evolutional direction at least seems clearly discernible-the trend from clumsy mass to the
.flowing and differentiating movement of the articulated wall curve, and to the forms that
either have a rounded base on which they can stai;id or in which the base is reduced to a mere
point. This can . be shown for each type of form. In the Fayum the evolution is exactly
39
reversed: it runs from opposition of contrasts to rhythmicization and weakening of contrasts
(so far as the development can indeed be represented as following a straight line).
The law of development of the longitudinal sections of history is not independent of the _
content of the transverse sections, unless we rest satisfied with completely empty abstrac-
tions, such as the principles of differentiation and integration, inversion, etc. In the evolution
of pottery forms, the individual cases are so complex that there are many kinds of inversion,
some of which can be characterized as excursions of fantasy and others as historical develop-
ments. Thus the inversion of the ovoid form in the F ayum (p. 2 7) can doubtless be explained
as a vagary of fancy, while the change from synthesis of contrasts to weakening of contrasts
is a historical process. However, not only the direction of evolution but also the character of
its course depends on the content of each transverse phase of the history. It seems-judging
from the two Lower Egyptian groups-that only the dominant forms have a continuous
development, while the others evolve either not at all or only sporadically. In the first case,
the principle of differentiation and integration predominates; in the second, that of inversion.
To reduce one to the other is an unpardonable abstraction that makes true insight impossible.
3. TASA
[1v]
The settlements of the Fayum, situated at two levels, one about forty meters above the
other, show two human groups of different geographical origin and different tradition, with
different modes of feeding and different implements. The two groups apparently lived in
peaceful proximity; they seem to have excluded mingling and common activity, but not
contact and exchange. In the settlement of Merimda we have a long-standing mixture of two
very different civilizations, one presumed to be of mesolithic African, the other of neolithi9
Asiatic origin. Their coexistence is revealed by the presence of adzes of different materials
and shapes.
In T asa, 11 situated in Middle Egypt on the eastern bank of the Nile, we meet for the first
time a foreign tribe and civilization. The invaders were familiar with the art of casting copper
or bronze, for their beakers had overhanging, easily breakable rims of a type not really suitable
for clay vessels. Originally such beakers were probably made of metal. The newcomers had a
quasi-military organization and repeatedly went on expeditions to northern Africa and
Europe-perhaps taking their herds with them. They probably had more knowledge of how
to work hard stone than the Egyptians had, and their cult of the dead had little in common
with that of the Egyptians. They did not bring to Egypt the art of cultivating grain; on the
contrary, it must be presumed that th~se invading nomads tried to live on the harvests of the
indigenous population.
These facts are clearly confirmed by the character of Tasa pottery, for, in addition to a
distinctly foreign form (the so-called ornamented be; kers), we find a new dominant form
and several common forms that are f~miliar to us among the types of Lower Egypt. We can
only make the vague conjecture that these foreigners came from a region northeast of Egypt.
But it can be said with the greatest certainty that this mixture of races, evidenced by the
diverse skull shapes among the dead, started a far-reaching and fecund development: the
40
fusion of two civilizations observed here completes the First and inaugurates the Second Cul-
ture of Egyptian prehistory.
A. The dominant form of Tasa pottery [IV, 2] reveals, in the longitudinal section,
a "broken" side-i. e., the line connecting the usually very different base and rim lines abruptly
changes direction at the point where the side reaches its maximum extension, so that it is
divided into two branches. These either remain curves or become re.c tilinear; but in many
cases a curved and a rectilinear segment are contrasted. The difference in size of the segments
is considerable, for the break is rarely at the middle of the side, but above or below the middle,
and the division thus comes very close to corresponding with the golden section, which makes
the difference in size clearly measurable. But there is also an essentially more complicated
case: while the break is on a level with the center of the vertical axis, the two parts of the wall
are nevertheless of very different length, because of the great difference in width between
the base and the rim (1:6 or 1:7).
What was the reason for this break? It probably was not technical, because the resulting
form did not increase the capacity of the vessel. Among aesthetic reasons, the most i~portant
one is that the beholder is invited to trace an imaginary horizontal, parallel to his eye level,
connecting the points of break on either side. The base and the rim line have different
lengths. Therefore the eye is compelled to compare the greater length of the suggested hori-
zontal with that of either the base or the rim line, and this stimulates the tendency to relate
the two parts of the height to the central axis. The vessel in itself is not necessarily seen in a
static frame of reference; but certainly a resting imaginary horizontal is opposed to the longi-
tudinal flow of the side curve.
The Fayum vessel, with its broad curved base and straight rim, appeals directly to sensa-
tion, and through this to the emotions. This greatly decreases the effect of massiveness in the
vessel. It gives an impression of structureless volume. The T asa vessel takes the first step
toward autonomy because its volume is really measured in the act of seeing-measured not
only in the optical manifestation but also according to its expressive values. For if the imagi-
nary horizontal is lower than the middle of the vertic.al axis, the eye is directed toward the
earth and consciousness is dulled; if the horizontal sinks below the point of division by the
golden section, the impression is as of a sudden fall, evoking the idea of collapse and disintegra-
tion. If, on the contrary, the horizontal is above the middle of the vertical axis, the heavier
part is above the lighter, which arouses a feeling of surprise and even of wonder; if the hori-
zontal is above the point of division by the golden section, the beholder's consciousness is
sharpened and seems to push the mass downward.
Putting it more generally, the vessel here described no longer appeals directly and
tangibly to sensation, and through this to the emotions; it appeals first to the mental faculties,
to the whole gradation between sense awareness of mass and conscious perception, and only
by these stages to feeling; thus the latter is liberated from the pull of mass and acquires playful
freedom. Perfection is achieved when the play becomes complex, that is, when the contrast-
ing top and bottom of the object are related to each other and to the key r eference of the
central axis in s9ch a way that several distinct proportions effect a structural harmony. In
many cases the height and the horizontal at the greatest width are equal, so that it might be
assumed that the starting point of the form was a square, as in the Fayum. But in T asa the
peculiarity of the will to form lies not in the slight deviation in either width or height, but in
41
its assodation of marked width with a leap upward, this being achieved by the notable dis-
parity between base and rim ( r: 6). Thus three elements contribute to this dominant form,
which is only a starting point from which further development is possible: (a) the differentia-
tion of the dimensions of the side surface, and thereby the stimulus to measuring the volume
in relation to them; ( b) the necessary relation to the beholder through the correspondence of
the horizontal to the eye level, giving rise to a play between bodily response and the mind
and to an emotion that remains free; ( c) the dramatic tension and opposition of multiple
proportions striving toward unity of form.
B. If we now consider the forms that belong to the Lower Egyptian tradition, we meet
the dominant form of the Fayum with the break characteristic of Tasa introduced into the
curve of the base iristead of the side, the bottom being slightly pointed [IV, 5] . This
is the only known attempt to concentrate a form on a vertical axis. However much the T asa
potters were inclined to narrow the base, in order to emphasize the breadth of the bulge, this
direct juxtaposition of a broad elliptical outline and a peaked curve at the base was too violent
to_be satisfactory. No less characteristic of the completely changed conditions of life is the
fact that the older shape has lost all of the element of contrast and degenerated into expression-
less and formlessness.
The inversion of the dominant form of the Fayum is also found, with approximately the
same absolute measurements and the same proportion between height and width. The original
base-rim ratio of I: 2 is rarely preserved_, but is for the most part transformed into I: 3, even
r: 5; this gives to the bulge, which also begins a little farther down, incomparably greater
weight. The potters wanted to achieve the impression of a great curvature without actually
increasing the bulge. The discovery of the difference between a form and its effect became
a stimulus to development; the aim was now to create a definite impression without a tangible
equivaient in the object. In the Fayum we have complete unity of actual form and perceived
effect, because the extent of the bulge is strictly limited. The will to obtain an effect from the
relation between man and the obje.c t rather than from the object alone has the same root as
man's p~easure in the ab11ndance rather than in the security value of stored-up goods. This
root is the increasing sense of detachment from the product of the agricultural civilization and
from the mode of work itself. A stage of greater awareness an~ thus of lesser dependence
upon the object is attained; man has now not a direct emotional relation to the product
because it is the fruit of his work, but an indirect one, because he wants to achieve something
through it. This indirectness breaks the shackles of sedentary life in the spiritual sphere, per-
haps because they have previously been broken in the physical sphere, that is, because the
settlement has ceased to be a closed unit and has become a ·crossroads. The later hieroglyphic
denoting a city reflects these two basic experiences.
The T asa pots with curved bases are more like those of the Fayum than those of Merimda
[IV, 7]. The bulge is decidedly differentiated from the base, the opening is wider or the pot
is higher, its capacity is increased, while the impression of lightness is enhanced. The larger
forms occur more frequently than the smaller; these pots seem to have served as storage
vessels, that is, as farm utensils. Other vessels with curved bases closely approximate the
Merimda forms....:.e. g., the small hemispherical or squared forms with slightly rounded bottom.
The difference in size between base and top found in the dominant form is found also
42
w
r'--~
in vessels in which the side forms an unbroken curve. In most cases the side in such vessels
curves inward· only near -the top [IV , 6]. This type is differentiated with regard to the size
of the bulge and its contraction beyond the turning point. In all the specimens the contrast
between the maximum width and the rim is stressed; in the similar types of the Fayum, the
eye is compelled to refer to the base instead of the rim. T his change reveals, even in the rela-
tively expressionless var1ants, the direction of development from passive awareness of gravita-
tion to consciousness. The inner .c onnection appeared even in the Fayum, where the elevation
of the bulge developed by way of an inversion of the dominant form. But the possibilities of
expression manifested themselves only when the bulge was placed nearer to the base, as was
first done in Merimda. Yet T asa presents vessels in which the contrasts are so little stressed
that in cross section the base, lateral bulge, and rim fuse into one curve approximating a
square [IV, 8]. Historically Tasa has a double function- that of dissolving old types and ·of
introducing new forms in their preliminary stages. It seems to be placed at the juncture of
two epochs-the one dying, the other about to begin.
There occur in Tasa a number of low, broad vessels that doubtless served the same pur-
pose as the boatlike pots of the Fayum and Merimda but that have no direct form relation to
these, although their shapes similarly evoke association with water and water animals. In the
Fayum the form is that of an asymmetric tub with a slightly irregular base and a rim with
rising, then falling curve; it is as though the potter had followed the motion of a fish raising
its tail and head under the pressure of his hand on its body. A seetion through such a vessel
yields the outline of the typical Egyptian reed boat with high extremities. In Merimda, the
·stabilization of the base line into a horizontal was accompanied by symmetrization of the low
sides. Only the rpanner in which the low sides rise from the horizontal base in a convex, then
concave curve is still reminiscent of the original perception of gliding motion. The "idea" of
the vessel has superseded the experience of the form, repressed it rather than expressed it. In
Tasa this experience of a gliding movement is completely desubjectivized: the form now
represents not a factual experience but the visualization of a concept abstracting the fish and
the boat. Originally the difference between the straight line and the curve was not explicit;
now the two are fused again. A regularization of the ground plane and of the transverse and
longitudinal sections has taken place, together with the greatest possible harmonization and
simplification. At this point we certainly come close to the Badarian culture.
C. Up to this stage our analysis reveals in the new, dominant form of Tasa an artistic will
directed to objectivization and autonomization of the pottery form, while in the old common
forms both the concrete character of the new type and the nascent artistic will assert them-
selves. It is all the more surprising to find beside these a special form [IV , I 6, 17] that has no
perceptible relation to the dominant form nor to the artistic will. I~ is characterized by great
slenderness (the height is from two to two and one half times the width) and by the combina-
tion of a convex curve springing from the base with a concave curve at the top. In the section
th~ rim projects far beyond the side of the vessel, and its width forms a strong horizontal
contrast to the very slight curvature that relieves the base of the vessel. T his combination of
slender, tall body and b_road rim suggests a rectangle decidedly approximating the square
(+ 5·); in this rectangle the actual vessel fills out longitudinally only the two middle quarters,
while the two outer quarters form an air-filled space. T he vessel is, so to speak, suspended in
43
 this space. While all the earlier pots aimed only at walling off a protected inner space from
outer space, we find here the first attempt to create a relation with the surrounding space, the
inner space representing a starting point.
Precisely because the underlying design is again, as in the Fayum, a somewhat heightened
cube, its differentiation from the purely rustic form is particularly striking. To the mind of
the cultivator who sought to conserve his grain, the air surrounding the pot was hostile and
dangerous. To the mind of the maker or user of the beakers found in T asa, who seemingly
liked to drink and to make display, the surrounding air was friendly; it was the medium in
which he was related with the pot- or rather, the pot with him- and the motive of ostentation
predominated over practical purpose. A further feature of this new and peculiar form is its
incised ornamentation (cf. below). The white inlay contrasts with the blackness of the pot.
The fluid transition between the contrasting concavity and convexity, placed at the very
point where the slightest modulation of the asymmetry of curve lengths and of degrees of
curvature would destroy the plastic unity, makes the whole spring upward in a playful,
audacious, as it were triumphant manner. The thinness of the material conforms with and
enhances this impression. Like the wide overhanging rim, this thinness can be explained only
by connecting it with a knowledge of metal casting, here for the first time applied to clay,
which is not suitable for thin vessels.
There is a rougher variant-not excavated by archaeologists but seemingly authentic-
in which a sharp break is introduced in this form, together with a considerable shortening of
the projection of the rim. Both these features are in accord with the spirit of the time [IV, 11].
The break is situated low in the curve by which the wall rises from the base, or slightly higher,
and thus may have a purely technical reason. The concave curve starts at the break, so that
the concave and convex curves are no longer integrated and the two portions become hetero-
geneous. The concavity turns outward so much that the highest point of the wall outline is
approximately in the same perpendicular as the lowest. Thus the idea of relating the form to~
an air-filled space is preserved, but both are now included in a tall rectangle definitely super-
seding the original square.
The ornamentation of the two types of ware is different: in Qne it is horizontal against
a black background, in the other longitudinal against a red background. All these differences
indicate perhaps less a different purpose than a different origin; the thinner ware was manu-
factured by foreigners familiar with metal casting, who followed their old aesthetic taste
even when they had to content themselves with clay, which was not their accustomed
medium; the coarser ware was manufactured by the old settlers, who translated new impres-
sions into the old medium and employed of these impressions only what was suitable to
their material. '
The combination of characteristic factors now vanishes as suddenly as it appeared; but
most of them continue to appear separately in prehistoric Egyptian pottery. These factors
are thinness of material, slender proportions, combination of concave and convex curves,
white-filled incision, and predominance of ostentational over practical purpose. Only the
overhanging rim disappears entirely, probably because, being incompatible with the material
used, it proved impractical. Some of these factors doubtless have antecedents in earlier
periods. In Merimda we find concave and convex curves, but they are combined only along
a very brief length;-the Fayum has relatively slender vessels (the width-height ratio being as
44
much as ~: 3) '·as well as the somewhat overhanging rim, and occasionally the contrast between
a narrow base and a wide rim. But the novelty of the form under discussion here-the com-
bination of slenderness and height with a widening rim- cannot be directly derived fr<:>m
these antecedents. As we have seen, such width of rim is difficult to achieve with the pottery
technique to which the neolithic Egyptians consistently adhered.
The fact that the same form exists in baskets does not prove that it originated in weaving.
It is much more likely that there was an influence from metal casting. It could be assumed
that the form in question was an importation, if the white incrustation, as well as the beaker
or tulip form, which is found throughout neolithic Europe, did not compel the hypothesis
of a migration. W osinsky12 believed that this migration started from the region of the eastern
Mediterranean (he was unable to fix a definite point of origin) and spread along sev~ral paths,
one of which led to Spain. As for the tulip form, Hoernes and Menghin13 assume that it
originated in central Spain; Brunton's excavations should definitely eliminate this ~ypothesis,
because the European pottery is more like the rougher and later Egyptian ware than that
found in Mostagedda. Moreover, the date fixed by specialists, 2500 B.c., is more recent by at
least fifteen hundred years than the T asa culture of Egypt. It is therefore more probable that
the beaker form and the white-filled incised ornamentation were brought from the East to
both Egypt and Europe (Spain) by a nomadic people who in the end created a uniform cul-
ture in England known as that of the beakermen. In this culture, the relation of the pottery
form found so far only in Egypt (and in Michelsberg) to the bronze weapons becomes so
palpable that it may be assumed that the beaker folk were familiar with bronze even at the
time when they passed through Egypt.
The ornamentation likewise suggests a foreign origin. It is true that incision (without
white filling) was known in Merimda, where we find also the pattern of parallel lines that
occurs on T asa vessels and that persisted as late as the time of the Amratian culture. It is un-
likely, however, that the angles of T asa were derived from the fishbone patterns of Merimda.
If the ornamental motifs occurring in the T asa period are classified geometrically, we
obtain the following design elements: ·
1. Dots are placed longitudinally or obliquely around the vase, with or without a linear
frame [IV, 12, 13]. Or they fill a pair of angles opening toward the top [IV, 14] . The
preference for the dot motif may have had a purely technical origin: dots can be produced
easily with a pointed tool on a soft material. The later hieroglyphic for grain makes it appear
more probable that dots were frequently used to symbolize grain or, more generally, the
products of the earth, and that we are dealing here with a spell for protecting or multiplying
the foodstuff to be stored or intended for the dead. It should be noted that this motif does
not occur on the beakers but is found only on the later assimilated ware.
2. Parallel straight lines are used in group arrangements. These may signify numbers;
but the sparse existing evidence does not permit of any inference as to what the count
applied to.
3. Angles of varying formation and disposition appear:
a) In some cases the white filling suggests that the angles pointing upward were actually
drawn, while the angle pointing downward is a negative pattern resulting between two actual
or positive forms; the reverse relation may also appear. The sides of the angles are simple
white strokes, and the space between them is entirely filled with dots or strokes that parallel
45
,

now one slanting side, now the base, and now the perpendicular of the implied triangle
[IV, 15-19]. _ was later generalized by a nomadic warrior tribe, or whether it was rooted onlY. in warfare,
On some pots downward and upward pointing triangles, placed one above the other,
are separated by rows of horizontal strokes [IV, 15]. This pattern, as well as the device of
the ·negative angle formation, is also found later in the Amratian culture, where we shall
interpret the downward pointing angle as a symbol of the act of digging, or of the female
sexual organ, or of life or heaven, and the upward pointing angle as standing for an arrow, a
man, or death. As regards the juxtap<;1sition of the two, it would be important to discover
· the meaning of the multiple horizontal lines around the vase (circles): they seem to me to
represent the earth or heaven.
b) In other cases the sides of the angles are not single lines, but narro_w bands, i. e., each
side is composed of two lines, the interval between them being filled with dots [IV, 14] or
with angles [IV, 11]. In both instances the fei:nalc symbol (v) is used, and in the first example
a frame is supplied by verticals in such a way that the angles are separated and no male symbol
is formed between them as a negative. This indicates a clear awareness of the internal opposi-
tion of the two forms, which differ only in position.
c) Therefore it may be conjectured that pointing of the angles to the right [IV, 20]
has a significance of its own, with which we shall deal later. Such angles occur partly as
formations of simple lines or of narrow bands, and partly as completely white-filled spaces.
In one case, several small angles are placed within the larger one: here we are for the first
time confronted with the principle of cumulation.
d) In all the cases above described the angle preserves its entity as a form and functions
as an independent element, even when it is placed beside another and a negative pattern is
formed between them. But there is also another, opposite utilization of the angle, in which the
tendency to form a continuous row is so strong that the triangle pattern is completely de- ,
strayed. Such rows appear in two variants: in one, paired rows are traced around the pot,
and each pair is paralleled by another at an appreciable distance. In all other cases, there are
from three to five such rows around the pot, one above the e>ther [IV, 18, 19], but this repeti-
tion does not have the cumulative effect that we shall find in the Amratian ornamentation. The
rows of angles, which are found only on very low vessels, have a distinctly dynamic effect,
and offer a striking contrast to all the other uses of the angle (a~c), which always have a
static quality.
4. Along with these highly geometrized signs there appears another sign, ~ [IV, 16],
which seems to have remained partly an imitation of a natural form. It disappears in the
Amratian ornarr{entation but re-emerges in the Gerzean culture. Its significance may have
related more to symbolism than to magic, so that once again we are dealing with a period
confronted by many different possibilities of development. Only gradually, in the course of
the struggle between the immigrants and the natives, w11.s the choice made. That there is a
time difference is clearly shown by the fact that the designs described under 3a occur ex-
clusively on the original beaker, while those instanced under 1 and 3 b are found exclusively
on rougher and later ware. Hence it may be inferred that the natives were relatively more
interested in magic spells intended to assure rich harvests, while the foreigners were interested
in the constantly changing progression between life and death, death and life. It is not possible
46
.
to decide whether this preoccupation evolved under an agricultural organization of life and
with its rapid turns from life to death and the concomitant desire of the hero to survive after
death. But the- contrast between dot and angle ornamentation is so striking that it almost
compels us to adopt the hypothesis of a coexistence of two peoples with different modes of
life and different cults of the dead. The fundamental conflict involved in the meeting of
warlike nomads who knew metal casting with peaceful cultivators who were dependent upon
the Nile mud for their harvests and for storage pottery, gave rise to the Second Culture of
neolithic Egypt.
It is obvious, but not clearly enough realized by modern humanistic scientists, whose feel-
ing for causality is becoming more and more atrophied, that neither the hypothesis of com-
mercial importation nor that of migrations suffices to explain the emergence of the new form.
Yet a true science of history requires causal explanations.14 In the present instance it is all
the more needed because together with the new pottery a new cult of the dead was brought
to Egypt. Proof of this, besides that supplied by the appearance of the hitherto unknown
signs of life and of death, is offered in the disposition of the graves. The dead are now buried
outside the settlement in a common graveyard; the corpse has several wrappings of reeds,
skins, and linen, especially around the head and pelvis. The body is still flexed, but now it
rests on the left side, with the hands before the eyes, and stone palettes for grinding malachite
are placed close to the arms of both men and women. Only children are provided with
articles of adornment, that is, amulets. Usually one pot is found in the western niche of the
grave, and the corpse faces this vessel.
What is the meaning of these customs? The dead person was remove.cl from the sphere
of the living and his face was turned westward, i. e., towar~ the region to which he was sup-
posed to go (which in all probability was not the region whence the conquerors had come);
however, his relation with the living w as not broken off, for he still faced the cultivated land,
and meals were still arranged for him. The dead body was carefully protected-especially the
parts regarded as the seats of thought and fertility- probably not only against the pressure
of sand but above all against scattering of the bones, which would have made the body "in-
complete." On the other hand, the magic powers of the deceased were crippled, because he
was made to lie on the heart side and his eyes were covered with his hands; this of course
could mean either that he was thus unable to exercise the power of the evil eye, or that he
could not be stricken by it. He was given both physical equipment (including straw and
leather pillows for his head) and magic provision for his long and solitary voyage. He was
buried alone now a~d no longer had all his family around him as in Merimda. Only a mother
and child are occasionally found together in one grave.
All these contradictory features-isolation of the dead and intercourse with the dead,
arrangements for the preservation of his body and for the crippling or channelizing of his
magic powers- prove that the attitude toward the dead had become ambivalent: the deceased
was shown consideration but at the same time rendered harmless. The relation between the
living and the dead was not voided, but it was established as clearly as possible that the living
and not the dead were to determine the manner and time of.this relation; the living wanted
to be sure that the dead would not, unbidden and unexpected, interfere in their lives. Piety
47
,
 ..
was used to drive away fear, and fear to breed piety. What caused this amalgamation of
contradictory feelings, which preserved the body and removed the soul, which on the one
hand shackled and on the other fostered the magic powers of the dead?
The answer depends primarily upon the nature of the pre-existing customs, which we
can only surmise. It is clear that for the nomad who had just become sedentary, the practice
of graveyard burial meant coming closer to the dead, while for the sedentary cultivator it
meant lesser proximity to the dead. Besides, the nomadic herdsmen and warriors did not have
to fear their dead, because the latter would be unable to find the roaming survivors; if the
nomads tried to make sure of life after death for their dead, they were motivated by fear of
death rather than fear of the dead, by their own survival wish and not by the wish to remove
the dead from their world. But as soon as the nomads settled, they could be found by their
dead, and this was all the more disquieting because they were depriving the dead of their
lands and harvests; the dead person could haunt his former home and land and avenge himself
by use of magic, and the magic powers of the dead were (by analogy) those of inflicting dis-
ease and death. All attempts to destroy the magic powers of the dead were futile, because of
the principle of conservation of magic forces; moreover, the well-being of the living depended
on magic all the more because of their sedentary economy, that is, because they came increas-
ingly to realize the inadequacy of social as against elemental forces.
In brief, the ambivalence of the new cult of the dead arose out of the meeting of nomadic
and sedentary peoples, out of the transition from nomadic to sedentary life, out of the expro-
priation and partial subjection of the sedentary people by use of superior weapons (copper,
bronze), and because of the development of a social organization by families that was stronger
than the old clan organization. But if the conqueror had weapons for overcoming the physical
and magic powers of the living whom he subjugated, what resources had he against the magic
powers of the dead? Above all, what powers had he for securing to himself after death the
sustenance that he had never obtained by his own toil, since he lived from the labor of tne .
expropriated? The living were no longer safe from the dead, and the dead were no longer
certain of the fealty of the survivors. Violent expropriation had destroyed the nomad's simple
spatial security from the dead. Conquest had created a class society, and the conditions of class
society created the mi?Cture of piety and fear. It is probable that this ambivalent complex of
emotions was later transferred from its association with violent expropriation to the connec-
tion with inheritance, since initially there was no definite code of inheritance, and this inse-
curity of rights stamped each change of ownership as expropriation all the more strongly
because the phenomenon of death was beyond explanation.
This is also evidenced in the much later myth of Osiris. If, divesting ourselves of the
restrictive idea• that this myth is merely an allegory of the fate of the dead, we inquire into
its background in the social and legal prerogatives of the ruling classes in prehistoric Egypt-
assuming Osiris to have been a king-we find that there was an order of male succession from
brother to brother, the sisters being involved in the C9ftainly frequent fraternal disputes by
preferring one of the brothers as a husband or by being forced to give an heir to one of them.
In the myth the son of the sister-wife defeats the brother-uncle, and the grandfather settles
the dispute in favor of the grandson. The arguments of both parties are reflected in the con-
tradictory statements of the myth: on the one hand, the sister is portrayed as unable to find
the phallus of the dead brother, this representing a denial of the 'claim that he was the father
48
of her son; on the other, the dead Osiris is shown to have impregnated this sister, which means
that the posthumous son .must be regarded as his heir.
We have here a clear picture of early inheritance conflicts among nomads who had
become sedentary rulers; the scope of these conflicts widened when the rulers became princes
who also expropriated the magic powers of the social group. A clear-cut decision was urgently
needed, and it proclaimed as the legitimate heir the person who assumed responsibility for
provisioning the dead in his next life. This was the wife-sister (together with her young son),
doubtless because the women remained more closely tied to the native agricultural life than
the men, who absented themselves to hunt or wage war and frequently failed to return.
Familial endogamy finally insured both the possessions of the survivor and the provisioning
of the dead; but for a long time hereditary succession, just like the original act of acquiring
property by expropriation and subjection, was like a pre-emption by violence that made the
life of the heir and the afterlife of the deceased insecure and dangerous.
While the new cult of the dead is highly developed, and the pottery forms reveal two
coexistent and antagonistic cultures, the methods of producing the means of subsistence seem
to have changed little. We find the same mixture of agriculture, cattle breeding, hunting, and
crafts as in the Fayum and Merimda. The crafts are the same-mat plaiting, weaving, tanning,
manufacture of implements and weapons, with an insignificant amount of working of hard
stone for other purposes (as making vases and beads), fashioning of bones and ivory (the
latter not yet used for combs), utilization of sea shells and eggshells, construction of dwelling
and storage places in the form of windscreens, walled pits, half-buried baskets, etc. At present
it is impossible to ascertain whether these crafts became specialized and independen~ of agri-
culture, hunting, and cattle breeding; it seems that at first the economic unity of the family
was maintained, that the men gave up hunting during the periods of sowing and harvesting,
and that crafts and cattle breeding were carried on partly by the men and partly by the
women. Eating meat was a male prerogative, as is proven by the graves, in which gifts of meat
are found only beside male corpses;,women fed chiefly on agricultural products. But the finds
of a later period show that the arrival of the beaker folk, with their knowledge of bronze,
began to transform the family from an autonomous into a heteronomous economic unit. The
effects of better working materials, and the differences between the war-minded invaders and
the peacefully inclined natives, made themselves felt slowly but surely; new and more com-
plex forms of social organization led to more intensive exploitation of the soil, and the trades
became differentiated, this making for greater commercial activity. Tasa is a foreshadowing
of the Second Culture.
If we now cast a glance back to the First Culture of prehistoric Egypt, it is clear that we
are far removed from the beginning of the neolithic stage; that is, from the beginnings of
sedentary life, agriculture, and cattle breeding. For everywhere we find wheat and barley,
pottery, and woven cloth. The isolation resulting from a long period of sedentary life has
already produced local cultures, with differences that seem to us all the sharper because we
know these cultures only in varying fragments of the whole and in disparate epochs of their
historical duration. The very fact that in all these cultures stone axes are found side by side
with flint implements, which were fashioned by a double technique, obliges us to presuppose,
besides a long and varying tradition, a negative circumstance-absence of metals in Egypt and
of ability to melt metals. The identity of working implements, despite the variety of crafts,
49
imposed equal working time on all, and this in turn made for equality among individuals - will detach itself from an old form, become free, and begin to seek a new one. Unbiased
within the groups, even though the groups might differ as much from one another as the com- inquiry will show that in all epochs this quest for the .new form corresponding to the new
munist group of the Fayum differs from the groups of individual families in the village of conditions of life takes several directions, with several style tendencies, and that, during the
Merimda. The stone implements that rest~icted agriculture to the hoeing technique limited process, analogous intermediate situations occur repeatedly-as for instance when the old
the yield; we do not kno~ exactly when the plough was introduced into Egypt, but the aesthetic feeling in process of liberation is unable to cross a certain limit without outside help,
wooden plough did not give the peasant superiority over the herdsman and hunter as long as or when the new feeling seeks to gratify itself as directly as possible without sufficient regard
it was drawn by men rather than by animals. On the other hand, stone implements also set for the specific features of the material and the laws of art.
limits to the yields of hunting, however much traps and wooden weapons may·have helped This seems to be the case here. We have seen that in the Fayum the earth-bound cultiva-
the hunter. The astonishingly high rate of child mortality forced the family to hold together as tor sought to free himself from the limitations of sedentary life by modifying the forms or
an autonomous unit in production of the means of subsistence. proportions of his pottery. His feeling remained tied by certain inner restrictions, of which
The First Culture is characterized by absence of social stratification and exploitation, he could free himself only after achieving sufficient detachment. We have shown further, in
this setting a definite limit to success in the struggle for gratification of the most pressing analyzing the dominant and common forms of T asa, that the prerequisites for this detachment
needs: a certain amount of security could be achieved, but no surplus of wealth. All archae- were present. Thus the way was paved for liberation from and play with the emotional tie
ologists have been struck by the insignificant finds of articles of adornment in relation to the to the soil, but this way could be taken only under the influence and pressure of the invading
level of material culture. This, however, proves not only a general lack of opulence or absence beaker folk, who transformed the old conditions of life. The Badarian culture, which is
of a distinct leisure class, but also the prevalence of a spiritual security that reduced the crea- spatially and temporally a neighbor of the Tasa culture, clearly reveals this new social and
tion of ideologies and spiritual weapons in the form of magic to a minimum. A material and economic orientation.
spiritual sufficiency had come into being, a self-assured and peace-loving contentment, which
made the settlement an easy prey to the first conqueror.
After the conquest, a class society was initiated, ambivalent and complicated ideologies
were evolved, and creative ability was released from the limitation of practical purpose. In the
First Culture of Egyptian prehistory, the fact that the whol_e population labored, and that
all branches of labor had equal social value, prevented accumulation of a surplus- of a material
surplus of means of subsistence, a social surplus of power, ·or a spiritual surplus of ideologies
and aesthetic play. It constitutes both the charm and the limitation of this culture that the
physical and spiritual forces expended by man sufficed for the satisfaction of his needs and
engendered the certainty that life after death would be like life on earth. Even increase of
population does not seem to have broken down this state of being, which was characterized
by a low level of needs and was intermediary between attachment to the soil and rriastery over
it, between the condition of being made and that of being able to make. The pots of the
Fayum, of Merimda, and of T asa show that the_ populations of these three localities never
succumbed to inertia: each had its own way of expressing its living energies- in the direction
of monumentalizing the goals, in that of sensual comfort, and in that of autonomization of
work. But in none of them did homo f aber reach the stage of giving play to his creative abili-
ties, because these, in die given social organization, and with the existing tools, could not
transcend the fevel of the human needs and the objective resistances. The next impetus had to
come from the outside: the invasion of the beaker folk, with their knowledge of metal, marks
the beginning of a material and social revolution that completely changed the face of neo-
lithic Egypt. . ,1
This shows clearly that the history of art and the history of culture must give up two
favorite prejudices, namely, the idea that forms are derived only from nature or from other
forms, and the assumption that this derivation is mechanical and unilateral. Since every form
springs from an aesthetic feeling, which bespeaks a psychic or an emotional reaction to the
totality of all objective interacting conditions of life, this feeling-when the conditions change
50 51

CHAPTER III
THE SECOND CULTURE
To SEPARATE the Tasa and the Badari culture, which are so closely linked in time and
place, may seem arbitrary. But the two had different functions. Tasa terminated the copper-
less neolithic age and enunciated the motif of the subsequent epoch without being able to
develop it, whereas Badari reached the first stage of the new evolution without being able to
free itself from purely local limitations. Furthermore, the Badarian culture seems to have been
developed not alone by the beaker folk, who continued migrating southward; another tribe,
newly immigrated or perhaps previously settled in the region, contributed to it. Only in the
second stage, the culture that Petrie named Amratian, do we find several contrasting local
cultures and a tendency to formation of one large political unit and a homogeneous regional
culture. Junker1 conjectures that the Amratian culture represents the first unification of the
south under the hegemony of Ombos. The archaeological finds do not contr~dict this hypoth-
.esis nor confirm it. They .enable us broadly to reconstruct part of the history of the strug-
gles for the broad political unification; but it is impossible to localize them. This much is
certain: neither economic, political, nor social conditions remained the same, and the ideology
of the cult of the dead was consolidated into the form in which we first meet with it in T asa.
This change from the old to a new world is clearly shown in the pottery, the main speci-
mens of which reveal the need for ostentation and the ideology of the ruling class in symbols
that are neither pictures nor hieroglyphics but that can be identified and read, i.e., translated
as concepts. While one section of the Egyptian population was debased physically and spirit-
ually, another attained previously unknown levels of wealth, power, activity, and freedom.
This situation gave rise to a culture that clearly preluded the achievements of the dynastic
period; in the interval, clay was replaced by stone as a pottery medium, and the magic signs
by hieroglyphics. · The difference between roughness and smoothness influences the further treatment of
i. THE BADARIAN POTTERY
[v-vn]
Archaeologists report that clay was treated differently in the Fayum than in Merimda,
but the original specimens have not been accessible to me and I have been unable to analyze
the differences. In the character of its material the Badarian pottery differs so fundamentally
from that of the earlier period that a discussion on this ~round seems indispensable.
From the outset Egypt\an pottery probably served a double purpose-the practical end
of storing food, cooking, etc., and the ideological end of providing the dead with everything
they were thought to require in the afterlife. But when the sacred and the profane came to be
completely separated, two types of pots were manufactured: one was of coarse and imper-
fectly fired clay, irregularly shaped and uneven in surface; the other was of finer material,
52
'•.
more carefully fashioned and fired, with geometrically regular forms and smooth surfaces.
In the rough ware, the convex lateral surface revolves jn one direction; from any starting
point chosen by the observer, this surface first moves away from him, then back to him until
· the original point is reached again. In the smooth ware, the observer always sees the pot in
terms of the pivotal line (_which I define as the line describing the nearer side outline of the sec-
tional plane perpendicular to the observer's body when the vase is positioned directly before
him); the curves recede in depth simultaneously at both sides, i.e., the shape depends on an
axial static element.
This difference between the two types of ware corresponds to the different methods of
manufacture. The rough ware was made by successively imposing rings of clay on a base
fashioned by pressing a round stone into a lump of clay. The potter's revolving motions were
determined by his sense of touch and motivated exclusively by his practical purpose. In the
smooth ware the potter was guided by sight more than by touch; he related his work to the
vertical central axis of his own body and spread the clay symmetrically in two directions.
Because of this difference in method, not only the form of the modeling motion but also
its tempo and its relation to space differ in the two cases. The sense of touch dwells on each
separate point of the surface, giving it an individual significance that varies from point to
point; this slows the rate at which the ring turns and makes the whole simply a sum of its
elements. The procedure in the second case eliminates, by means of smoothing, the differenti-
ation of the separate areas and subordinates them to the curvature of the surface; separate
existence of the elements is reduced to a minimum within the frame of the intended whole,
and the idea of the whole accelerates the tempo of the curving motion in space. Because of
this difference between part by part modeling by touch and over-all modeling by sight, the
pots assume different relations to space. Prior to the introduction of the pivotal line, the form
had no fixed relation to space. As soon as regular, symmetrical shape is introduced, the visual
edge of the convex surface, acting as a pivotal line, fixes the vessel's relation to space; a turn
would be an arbitrary and useless act of the observer, for each new view is like the old one.
The form and its spatial relations are determined by a mathematical principle imposed by the
mind on the material and on the technical procedure. ·
the material. The makers of the rough pots depended for their effects primarily upon the prop-
erties of moist clay-malleability, elasticity; the makers of the smooth vessels, upon the prop-
erties of fired clay- toughness, thinness. In brief, the difference is one of emphasis on the
qualities of the material in process of being formed as against the qualities of the finished
product. In the first case the material is the natural product of water and earth; this circum-
stance awakens associations with these two elements, as they amorphously combine and fuse.
In the second case, the material is an artifact obtained by the application of fire, which is
regulated by human will and thought, and awakens the associations relating to human ability
to create and destroy. The material is raised to a level of being that can be termed "ideational"
in so far as an active human perform;nce endows it with objective value, raises it from for-
tuitous existence to an existence that is determined in relation to man. The meaning of these
different existential relations becomes especially clear when an attempt is made to destroy a
vessel of one or the other type. The r~ugh material can be lacerated and warped, while the
53
fired material is shattered; in the first case, plasticity is preserved because the form was realized
only rudimentarily; in the second, plasticity can be destroyed because the form was fully
achieved.
It is easy to see that the differing material attributes are connected with the differing
spatial functions, that the two factors depend upon and enhance each other and thus produce
differing effects. The rough pots affect us emotionally, exercising their influence upon the
body: they exert a certain compulsion upon the beholder. The smooth pots, on the other
hand, appeal to visual perception and through this to the intellect: they transcend tactual
appeal, revealing the essence and dignity of all corporeity or materiality. The one group
represents a stage at which mankind, under the pressure of continuously recurring needs, .is
still chaotic matter a.t the mercy of nature; the other, a stage at which man has progressed
beyond mere awareness and attained the mastery of matter that makes for civilization. Man
as a mere object of life begins to transform himself into man as the subject of history.
This transformation has limits. Pottery making means primarily the building of a par-
titioning wall in a sea of air; the closing of this wall means the confining of a small part of the
air and exclusion of the rest. In terms of this essential relationship, it might be said that air
penetrates into a vessel with varying impact, density, tempo, and to varying depth; it can
recoil or remain in suspension; the outer air may be separated from the vessel or may be joined
with it. So also, the wall of the vessel may have various significances. All these factors, later
exploited so abundantly and expressively, are at first only slightly differentiated. The outer
air is canceled out either by being absorbed into the rough-damp material-this produces a
dull-dark general impression-or by being repelled from the surface, in which case the effect
is one of brightness. The air within the vessel remains inclosed, and no active process results.
With the technical change from rough to smooth surfaces, the traces of the shaping hand
disappear from the finished vessel. Whether this ideal of eliminating every evidence of the
working process was achieved simply by means of a smooth stone or a wooden stick with
which the walls of the vessel were fashioned evenly both inside and out, or whether a model
of wood or clay was prepared by specialized designers and then used by the working potters,
we are confronted with a category of manual workers and a degree of manual skill that merit
analysis as to their social origin. The rough ware, which essentially served agricultural and
household purposes, was probably made by women. But if the smooth ware was also of
feminine manufacture, it would have to be assumed that mathematics was originally applied
by women-which seems unlikely in the light of our present knowledge of the psychology
of the sexes. Since in prehistoric times the separation between male and female work was very
definite; the transition from irregular to regular forms of pottery may therefore have involved
a social upheaval of which we can form no adequate idea.
Historically the two types are simultaneous. Since they served different purposes, and
since the cost of manufacture differed as between the two, it may he that they were used by
different social strata. The fact remains that logically) the rough type was a prerequisite to
the making of the smooth ware, just as the latter was in turn a prerequisite to the creation of
painted pottery, and the latter again to the devising of ornamented pottery. In each instance
a step of fundamental importance was achieved.
Painting does more than to cover the material: for the eye it replaces the substance with
color-differentiated brightness-with luster, with warmth or coldness. Painting was done by
54
daubing with or immersion in a liquid; it was done in red only or in red and black (burnt
black rim); it was burnished or unburnished.
Color, light, and line may be termed the means of representation. T hese means are com-
posed of the -same elements, no matter what the material; and each element can undergo
multiple differentiation, and all can enter into numerous combinations.
Neolithic man achieved such a means for the first time when he began to polish stone,
and this in turn induced him to replace chipping and pounding with grinding and boring.
Thus he was enabled to avail himself of harder materials than the brittle flint. Then a dual
value of work evolved: as the practical quality of the product was perfected, the value of
usefulness was relegated in emphasis, the material itself won value through pleasing character,
and this new value had a meaning for man that was independent of possession of the object.
A part of mankind thus reached the threshold of aesthetics and thereby acquired an oppor-
tunity to influence other people, that is, to control them.
When neolithic man, motivated perhaps by the practical purpose of achieving greater
imperviousness to liquids, combined polishing with painting and applied both to a form he
had created, -his consciousness of freedom was increased. The new means of representation
changed the impression produced by the pot, and man consequently gained insight regarding
the difference between the actual nature and the effect of a given form. Formerly, when the
prehistoric artist for the first time applied mathematics to matter, the effect was only an out-
ward adjustment: the weight of the material, despite its smoothness, still opposed the abstrac-
tion of mathematics. Now, when polished color concealed the material from the eye, the
mind began to play with the impression of gravitational pull and tried to eliminate it. This
tendency was heightened by the fact that the material was actually reduced to a fairly thin
layer. In the much-admired thinness of Badarian pottery we are confronted not only with
virtuosity (which surely must have had a high market value), not only with the purely
aesthetic principle of elegance, but with a general ideological force that attempted to play
with the opposition between matter and spirit, that is, endeavored to stress or to eliminate this
opposition by dematerializing the material and materializing the immaterial.
For now the geometric contours lose their rigid regularity, their fixation in space, and
even their strict symmetry; the static form becomes amenable to light and color vibration,
without loss of precision of character. But this means that the artistic expression of the smooth
ware achieves greater complexity, that emotional values are combined with intellectual ones.
The emotional values are perceived on the same plane of consciousness as the intellectual
ones, but their gamut is richer, and they give higher quality to the content.
This salience of representational values does not exclude differentiations. In some cases
the polishing is so faint that the red and black have the effect of static colors confining the
vessel to a fixed place, while in others the high luster transforms the red c'olor into light; the
break of the wall throws this light into contrast with a shadow-, so that the vessel seems to
vibrate in space. This effect is reduced when wax or oil has been used for burnishing, which
introduces an element of greasiness and heaviness; this is another aspect of the typically
Egyptian manner of balancing opposites-wet and dry, water and fire. Conversely, the stabiliz-
ing function of the colors is offset by a number of contrasting movements of the lines. T he
movement into depth, still unchecked by a regulating middle plane, is directed forward
again by the effect of the black rim, so that the vessel, though it is of an open type, gives the
55
impression of a closed form owing to the effect of the colors. Moreover, the air that falls
unhindered into the calotte-shaped cup rebounds from the bottom, which rests only on a
tangential point of contact, and remains in suspension at the level of the black rim. Finally,
the stabilizing color makes the thin-walled vessel look heavier than it is. This wealth of still
unformed contrasts later finds its definitive realization in the tall, decorated Amratian vases.
The existence of such clear differentiations implies that society had developed a need
for commodities of various qualities and values recognizable at first sight, that is, by the sur-
face. In other words, the different types of surface correspond not only to distinct purposes
but above all to differentiated social functions, because society had become stratified and
articulated. For these sociological reasons we must consider the shapes of the pots separately
according to the different classes of surface before we can obtain a unified picture of the
epoch as a whole.
In the rough ware [V, 1-3] new forms are few, but the old ones, except where the forms
of Merimda or T asa are retained, change in a consistent direction: they are markedly enlarged,
and the bottom, once rounded, is definitely pointed, while the rim has more flare and opens
widely. Thus- in contrast to the expression of the Fayum form- ever greater liberation from
the earth is achieved, and as large a volume of provisions as possible is placed in relation to the
air and to man. In the practical aspect, these pots may have protected their contents against
mold better than the older ones; at the same time they show that man's concern for his
product has become less bound to the idea of the earth and that he has learned to make a
sharper separation between his feelings about the growth of his seed and his care for his
harvest. His fear concerning his product is replaced by joy in his product; thus, while the
idea of inclosure on all sides is retained [V, 3 ], the vessel wall bulges far more than in any
previous form. To the Fayum cultivator this swelling out of the bulge would have implied
a dangerous boast of wealth calculated to arouse envy. In Badari, the agrarian element, whose,
continued existence is reflected in many forms, must have been joined by others: selling was
carried on as well as storing, and with increased production trade likewise bec;ame important.
The smooth ware [V, 4-6] has no relation to the rough ware, either in size- it includes
no storage pots-or in shape. The individuality of this type of pottery seems to consist in that
it has none, i. e., we find in it older forms of the Merimda culture essentially unchanged, as
well as the most recent forms of Tasa- pots with rounded bottom and concave wall [V, 5]-
and, finally, the forms of the better ware of Badari itself, in which the heterogeneous elements
that find a synthesis in the red polished ware are sharply separated. Here we obviously have
ware of a class that had no physiognomy of its own but cheaply imitated the rarer forms of
other cultures and of other classes in its own culture. The share of Merimda is striki!!:gly large,
while the Fayum is drawn upon only via the Merimda variation. From this it may be inferred
that there was considerably greater intercourse with the western delta than with the Fayum,
and- this appears even more strikingly-that there was a category of labor that was not
agricultural. ,J . and the two movements become one form, though they still grow one from the other. T he
In the red polished ware, the so-called carinate vases [V , 7-9] predominate in many
variants derived from the Tasa pots with sharply bent walls. It is difficult to ascertain whether
this treatment of the vessel wall was applied first in the carinate group or in the richer group
of red pots with black rims. The two groups differ in their proportions: usually there is more
accentuation of height in the red polished ware. The basic idea in the two groups is the same:
56
the horizontal axis, which in T asa is present only assumptively, and which parallels the level
of vision, is introduced as a real modeling line at the point where the surface of the base,
curving outward and upward, meets the inward sloping, usually straight wall; furthermore,
these markedly differentiated elements of the height are synthesized by the proportions. T his
creates a contrast between the two surfaces: the lower seems to come forward out of the
depth perspective, rising upward and outward, while the upper, inclining inward from the
foremost point, creates an .impression of downward movement. The upper surface is lighted
· from above, the lower one is in shadow; the boundaries of light reflection and spatial inclina-
tion also mark off differences of warmth and cold.
Thus the pot acquires an intrinsic instead of an extrinsic geometry; it constructs itself
instead of being constructed by man. Earlier, man had freed himself from the domination of
made matter through the introduction of geometric regularity; now the made vessel freed
it~elf from its maker. Homo f ab er, who overcame the supremacy of matter by inventing the
means of representation, triumphed over his own handiwork at the very moment when it
slipped out of his control and became independent. Man not only erased the marks of his
craft processes but also succeeded in making his product appear to have made itself- to be
genitus, non factus (as this fundamental experience of the artisan was later expressed in the
words of the Mass) .
The invention of the horizontal modeling line marks the birth of autonomous art in pre-
historic Egypt. The true significance of the invention can be seen in the fact that in Badari
are found also the first representations of the human figure that are sculptures in the full sense
of the term. Even as early as this, various methods of artistic creation are discernible; the
plastic sense in process of becoming autonomous quickly develops in considerable scope.
These methods can be adequately analyzed only on the basis of the originals, which have been
unavailable to me. But since the factor of variety is of the greatest importance for our under-
standing of prehistoric man, I should like to point out at this juncture that the five Amratian
clay figures in the Metropolitan Museum of Art in N ew York reveal four different artistic
approaches: the mimetic, in which the content is acted out (sitting woman); the fetishistic,
which shows an absolutely finished form (two armless figures); the mystical (figure with
raised arms); and the autonomous, which, independent of any extraneous principle of spiritual
grace, regards art as the only spiritual principle (woman squatting in a lump of clay). All
these types are found again in historical times.
The beaker, or more accurately, the idea of combining a convex and a concave curve in
the wall of the slender vase, undergoes an equally great transformation. These two curve
types are now brought into a plastic, form-creating relation through avoidance of the
two earlier extremes-the Merimda form in which the turn remains only formless flow,
and the T asa type in which the contrast of the curves merely stresses the absence of propor-
tion. Now the heights of the curves and their degrees of curvature are attuned to each other,
acute tension between two elements in process of separating is transformed into a self-posited
conflict, and the mere gliding movement becomes a living form on the basis of this conflict.
Geometrically, the two contrasted curves are for the first time related to a vertical passing
through the turning point, against which their degrees of curvature are directly measurable.
The role of this imaginary vertical with respect to the outline of the side anticipates the.
57
 function of the later modeling plane in relation to depth and corporeity: this plane makes the
vase autonomous and holds the eye, arresting the trend of vision into depth.
This autonomy could not have been attained in the vase, and could not have been carried
forward in the Amratian culture, had there not been in Badari a ruler class that aspired to or
had achieved a detachment from the direct problem of gratification of its everyday material
needs. The limit of this social differentiation is indicated in the fact that the low form with
a horizontal modeling line is very common, and becom"es even broader in the refined speci-
mens of black-topped ware, while the slender shape is still rare and unfolds all its values for
purposes of ostentation only in the early Amratian culture, at the same time as it becomes
· ornamented.
Two seemingly different yet closely connected tendencies make for autonomy in artistic
creation- the will to form and the will to play. The play instinct shows itself clearly in the
transformation of the old Merimda and Fayum forms. In Merimda there occurs an almost
quadrangular low vessel whose flat base is rounded only just before the sides begin. In the
Badari bowl of this type [V, rn] the side curve rises gradually, and as a result the vessel
seems to float on its base. To this dancelike play with the earth is added the play between open
form and closed form: the lateral curve seems to end vertically, to narrow, or even to widen.
This expresses not indeterminateness but rather precision within a complex of possibilities,
play between a single clear meaning and ambiguity. It produces not symmetrization of con-
trasts but an impression of vibration-an effect that naturatly became possible only when pot-
tery technique was perfected to such an extent that thinness of the wall could be raised to a
principle.
The dominant form of the Fayum was playfully changed in another way. In the section,
the broad ellipse of the base retained the tangential form above described and the contraction
of the wall was bent into a slightly concave turn, so that a small necklike opening was created ,
and thereby the form of the bottle, which was to have such a rich future. Junker illustrates
another attempt at a bottle, and an almost exactly similar form occurs again in Badari.
The tendency to the bottle form, though in a more elliptical shape, appears also in the
black ware [VI, 1-5]. There are many variations in shape, of different derivation, but no
dominant form or homogeneity of style is found. Noteworthy are the emergence of the
conical vase- Junker illustrates this form as that of a toy and thinks it is of Libyan origin-
and of the oval form in which the narrow end of the ovoid is used as the base. Along with a
markedly bulging vase, which repeats the large storage pot on a sharply reduced scale, and
which has a short, flared neck obviously meant to be stoppered [VI, 4], there occurs a vase
of slender ellipsoid shape cut off by unequal distances at either end of the vertical axis [VI, 5].
The unrelated, j~mbled multiplicity of types in this black ware, which is not found in large
quantities, requires a social explanation. Are these vases the handiwork of a small group living
in relative isolation, which satisfied all its needs in this one type of ware? Was it a group of
Negro traders who remained only temporarily in Badar.t? Such a hypothesis is supported by
the pre~ence of a strongly accented symmetry in all the types of this ware and by the fact
that the widths of bottom and rim are approximately equal; this is unlike the work of the
native imagination, which combined contrasts in a unity.
The most abundant ware is the black-topped [VI, 6-12 ], which according to Brunton
has a brown or red lower part. The essential artistic function of the black top seems to be that
58
of predicating closure: as it usually terminates a decidedly open form, it produces a contrast
-between the effects of two ·means of representation, color and line-a compositional device
that presupposes a significant extension of the principle of art for art's sake. T he brown
variant was probably regarded as the finer ware, for it seems to be the only type that has the
combed surface characteristic of Badari; it comports with this trend that the carinate form is
rare in the brown type,· while beaker forms become more numerous, and higher and larger
storage pots are found. The playful, elegant character becomes somewhat coarsened. W ith
these noteworthy reservations, we can distinguish a considerable number of types in the
black-topped ware in all of which the same playful spirit appears, and each of which com-
prises several variations:
a) The so-called carinate vase, which here occurs in a rather broadened form [V I, 6-8].
There are also pointed bottoms, and the wall, which usually rises vertically, may also
be inclined inward or bent outward in a concave curve.
b) Beakers in which the section of almost square proportions is elongated vertically
[IV, 9]. These have a certain kinship with the beakers of the Fayum. Their practical
purpose is obvious.
c) Hemispherical or slightly elongated cups whose sides become vertical at the top
[VI, 10, 13]. The combing on these is conceived as decoration. They are the
simplest manifestations of the free, unconstrained spirit of the Badarians. Although
only a variant of older types, their playful approximations to and deviations from
strict geometric form make them appear as something quite new.
d) The oval vase of the Fayum type, often with a somewhat shortened neck, as a result
of which the curve between the broad base and the contracted rim acquires a plastic
form [VI, 11 ].
e) The boatlike low vessel with steeply upcurved edge as found in T asa. It derives from
preliminary forms of the Fayum arid Merimda.
f) The low vessel just described, with contracted rim.
Our survey shows that Badari changed the oldest known forms in accordance with a
new spirit and at the same time transmuted the tendencies of T asa into entirely new forms,
such as the carinate vessel and the slender convex-concave vase, which were retained in the
following epoch. At the same time each type in itself was differentiated; the use of nuance
attained unpreeedented heights. This presupposes that taste and perception had become
refined and were now a social need, i. e., that there :was a fairly large class of well-to-do people
·by whose conventions and fashions all members of the group had to have similar and yet
different personal things. And the emulation that obtained in this stratum prevailed even
more between the social strata: the cheaper ware was an attempt at imitating the forms
of the better pottery.
Two further classes of vessels are passed over here-the coarsest rough ware, which quite
certainly served for storage, and the black ware, which was probably used by a foreign group.
While something of the free, playful spirit of the epoch persists in the first classification, the
second reveals a strikingly formal symmetrization, as though the foreigners desired to
emphasize their difference.
A marked gap, unknown in earlier epochs, opens in the Badarian period. Man's creative
59
power has moved away from material life, turned to the abstract. The idea of beauty, in
the sense of a liberated, playful synthesis of all oppositions in the finite form, now makes its
first appearance in the art of prehistoric Egypt. I have attempted to show what artistic
resources it uses: the play of buoyancy against weight; elegance and thinness of material;
exploitation of the means of representation, with differentiation of these to such a point that
the several factors acquire contrasted functions; autonomization of form through synthesis
of oppositions; use of the modeling line; transcendence of limited content; and, finally, -
combing and decoration of the surface.
This ornamentation [VII, 1-14] has some connection with the basic motifs of Tasa
(angles) but differs from these in technique and by the presence of new motifs and of previ-
ously unknown combinations of old ones. This clearly suggests that extra-artistic factors
must be added to the factor of purely formal development. - tions, showing the first paralleling of seed and man: it becomes the first example of a thinking
Brunton points out that this new technique, as contrasted with that of incision, "con-
2 in which human life is conceived as analogous to the natural processes of growth.
sists entirely of patterns burnished on the polished black interior surface . . . with some
pointed tool, a technique which may be called 'point-burnishing.' ... Incised patterns are
almost entirely absent." With the dwindlin_g of incision, filling with white also ceases, prob-
ably because the peaceful population of Badari lacked the bone meal used for it, which the
nomadic warriors of the T asa period had in abundance. When the people of Badari trans-
ferred ornamentation to the black inner surface of the base, it was partly because the exterior
convex surface was combed, in order to thin and enliven the wall of the vase [V I, 13, 14].
Here too an essential difference appears: while in Tasa the combing is usually vertical, the
Badari type is diagonal, and (as observed by Brunton) "up to the right," while the polishing
"runs up to the left," so that the result is crisscrossing at right angles.
This crisscrossing of groups of slanting lines supplies us with one of the new ornamental
motifs of Badari [VII, 7-8]. The question is whether the pattern merely employs in free play
the new handicraft experience characteristic of Badari, which may have included the essen-
tially older skills of plaiting and weaving, or whether it has a meaning developed in opposi-
tion to the ideology of the immigrants. The lines would be most naturally interpretable as
signifying fire-perhaps that gn~at conflagration, so frequently mentioned in later texts, which
the dead were supposed to encounter before reaching their destination. But if the lines are
interpreted only as a means for producing the negative pattern resulting from their intersec-
tion, we obtain large dots, which in hieroglyphic writing signify corn; in later dynastic times,
dots represent fire. A concept embracing both grain and fire-which might explain the double
significance of the dot-would be that of the life-giving, form-creating force; in such ·sense,
the device becomes particularly meaningful on the vases of the dead.
The simple~t new motif is that of the circle or ellipse. It never appears alone, but always
as a frame for something situated inside it-branches, straight lines, crossed lines, etc. In one
instance a small oval open at one end is placed inside a circle [VII, 10]. Is this the egg sym-
bolizing the world, or is it related to the heap of dung rqlled by the scarabaeus that figures in
the later Egyptian mythologies? Or does it more probably represent a seed breaking through
its husk or through the crust of the earth?
The motif [VII, 9] in which the interior oval strongly resembles an eye emanating four
sheaves of strokes (the movement is directed to the right, the numbers of the strokes in the
sheaves being six, six, ten, sixteen) seems to me related to the one just mentioned. Brunton
60
regards this motif as a modified cross; this is an error, however, because the design lacks a
symmetrical relation-so strikingly present in all other crosses- with the vertical and hori-
zontal diameters, or even with the diagonal ones. The assumption that it pertains to the magic
of the eye is -plausible, and the relation of this design to the eye on the ceiling of Altamira is
striking. Nevertheless, it is more likely that here too we have a seed under the crust of the
earth, or a grave that is opened to enable the dead person to start out on his journey toward a
new ·1ife. The progression in the number of lines, with the striking correlation of the
quantities six and ten-the earliest indication that the Egyptians used two numerical systems-
may in that case be intended to enhance the magic effect of the sign and emphasizes the great
importance ascribed by the neolithic Egyptians to the coming forth of the grain from the
earth or of the dead from their graves. Thus the motif may spring from agricultural associa-
It should be noted that the parallel groups of lines emanate from the earth (man-culti-
vated)-a proof that this part of Egypt's neolithic population did not think primarily in
cosmogonic terms; rather, the sphere of heaven was conceived as developed out of the earth,
when the experiences of agriculture revealed the limits of earth-dominating magic and when
a foreign tribe with its dynamic ideology of life and death pushed the natives to this attitude.
For if the chronological relation of the Tasa and Badari cultures as judged from the excava-
tions is correct, and if the materials found in the graves are relatively complete, we are con-
fronted with an unexpected fact: the belief that death can change into life just as life can
change into death was for the first time formulated not by settled agrarians but by nomadic
warriors. The motif under discussion probably shows us the transformation of the ideology
of warriors into that of cultivators.
Another new motif is that of the branch [VII, 1-5], which (with varying leaf shapes)
appears either singly along the horizontal diameter of an ellipse or in pairs, one at either side
of this diameter. These two branches may be crossed by a third placed on the shorter vertical
diameter. Another variation shows one branch placed on the horizontal diameter and crossed
by two others placed diagonally, so that all intersect at a single point. The branch motif
must have been taken from agriculture or gardening, i. e., from the presumable domain of
woman. Its significance may have been that of either a magic aid in the feeding of the dead
or of a sacrifice of plants-which are brought to life by dint of work-in order that the dead
might be brought to life like plants (magic of analogy). Hence at a later time, in the Gerzean
culture, certain plants, such as the aloes grown in pots, may have attained the significance of
symbols of immortality.
The original conception of magic always contained the idea that human labor could
change death into life in the case of man as it did in the case of the earth and its plants. What
we call the cult of the dead is thus primarily a cult of life-or more accurately, the complex
of magic-ritual activities that cause life to issue from death testifies to a belief in the omnipo-
tence of homo faber. If this branch is at the root of the later custom of covering graves with
plants and flowers, it marks the start of a long, typical development from magic to orna-
mentation.
Formally, the position of the branches in most cases conforms to that of the diameters
of the ellipse (or circle). This is probably because for sedentary man the horizon was always
61
,
in the same place in a stable environment and he himself was at rest in relation to it, while the
nomad experienced an ever changing and moving horizon to which he was never in an indi-
vidual relation. The suddenness of the transition from one mode of seeing the world of space
to another, and the impact of the meeting of the two orientations, was an experience of funda-
mental significance, and we have seen that it found its expression in the use of the line of
vision as a modeling line. Because the vase can be turned, it is impossible to say whether
a given branch runs from wes~ to east or from north to south; but the fact that branches lie
along both diameters, i. e., are crossed, shows that what was intended was to dominate all
four quarters, and this purpose was reinforced by doubling of the horizontal diameter or by
addition of two diagonal ones.
The desire that the dead should dominate the space between heaven and earth in all four
(or more) quarters perhaps partly accounts for the positions in which the bodies were placed,
and for the very frequent occurrence of the sign for the four cardinal points on Amratian
pottery. It is as though in the course of the struggle between the sedentary and the invading
people the limited space on the land to be cultivated'had grown too narrow for both, and as
though they wanted to secure in the afterlife the freedom of movement they had lost
on earth. This is evidenced by the combination of the cross with the basic element of T asa,
the angle [VII, 6]. In Tasa the downward pointing angles were always separated from the
upward pointing ones; in Badari they are combined into a cross, in such a -way that they
radiate from the center of the circle along the vertical and the horizontal diameter. Each .
of the four angles is filled with crossed lines (like those in the fire motif) that do not parallel
any of the sides of the angles. Thus the old elements are clearly differentiated from the new ·
tendency to combination; and both attain to a great role in the subsequent Amratian culture.
In line with the interpretation given for the T asa elements, according to which the downward
pointing angles ( v) signify the female life-giving force (and heaven), and the upward point-
ing ones (A) the death-bringing force of the arrows of the male, the cross formed by two ,
vertically directed angles ( X) would signify the transition from death to life, the birth of
new life from death. The two horizontally oriented angles (><) do not occur in Tasa.
The new combination is very much like the later hieroglyphic for tow~ (or village),
and its formation may be regarded as reflecting a process of social stratification and political
organization. Then the sign would mean that a town is formed by the meeting of man (A)
and woman ( v), who form a unit resting upon sexual intercourse ( X>, and the question arises
whether the cross formed by the horizontally oriented angles (><) should be read as only a
variant of the other, or whether it denotes new town-creating forces. The most natural
interpretation would be that it denotes the struggle between natives and foreigners, the strug-
gle as between freedom and subjection, life and death. Sexual ties and tribal hostilities were
the basic forces of the town in process of defining itself as a sociopolitical unit. The form of
a cross may derive from association with the idea of the meeting of the sexes in copulation or
of the meeting of men in combat, or with the experienc~ of the founding of towns at cross-
roads. The root of the form is always in social experiences. These are subsequently related to
the motif of the branch, which owes its being both to nature and to the management of the
productive forces of nature through labor.
In the light of this analysis we can describe the general character and the historical
significance of the Badarian ornamentation as follows:
62
r
1. It reveals an attempt to counter the old abstract signs with naturalistic motifs spring-
ing from the direct expe.riences of the planters and artisans at work or from those of the
general social life. The reason for this attempt may have lain in the alien character of the
immigrant element in the community or in the will (or need) of the· natives to keep them-
selves distinct from these enemies, despite the inevitability of coming to terms with them. The
primary social source (the ever perilous life of the warrior and his desire for an afterlife) and
the manner of formal stylization of this theme- in two spread fingers raised toward heaven
or pointing downward toward the earth- were equally alien to the sedentary Egyptians, but
they grasped the significance of ornamentation as a magic instrument. They accepted the
basic idea but not the form as determined by alien social forces, and .thus a long process of
assimilation was initiated.
_ 2. Along with the new motifs there appears a new pattern determined by axial orienta-
tion and intersection, which is a negation of the old row pattern. This new pattern is deter-
mined by a new experience of space, perceived no longer as the continuous, lengthening road
of the nomad but from the fixed standpoint of settled life. The suddenness of the change, and
the sharply contrasting conceptions of the two types of population now thrown together,
transformed all the old experiences (sexual act, battle encounters, etc.) by reference to this
new spatial experience.
3. The ornamentation of T asa springs from an ideology of life and death with a ma.scu-
line-warrior orientation; that of Badari rests on the same ideology with change to a feminine-
agricultural orientation. The first centers on magically bringing the dead to life, without
any concern initially about the manner of the transition or the seat of the future existence;
the second centers on offering living matter to the dead and aims to influence the mode of the
transition- from it~ start (the grave) to its termination (heaven) - by the magic of analogy. _
The duality of the celestial sign (which is retained in the Amratian ornamentation) shows to
what extent the two worlds interpenetrated, and to what extent they remained separate. In
the burial customs of T asa we found an ambivalent attitude; even the later ornamentation of
Badari clearly shows a duality of sources stemming from the struggle between two occupa-
tional groups, sharpened by conflict between two races of different valor or between the sexes.
The great historical importance of the few ornamental motifs of Badari lies in the fact
that they are the first to show a feminization of the originally masculine ideology of life and
death that later, because of its association with agriculture, played such a tremendous role
in all of ancient history that its masculine-warrior origins were forgotten. True, we do not
know the earlier history of the geometrically represented ideology of life and death. To
understand its first transformation into a feminine-agricultural ideology, the entire nexus of
forces at play between the native settlers and the immigrants must be analyzed; this can be
done only by relating the pottery to the whole of the Badarian civilization.
As is true regarding our knowledge of all the prehistoric Egyptian cultures, we know
more about the Badarian culture from the graves of the dead than from the settlements of the
living. Caton-Thompson shows this concretely in describing her excavations at Hemamieh:
the better flint instruments, sickles, and other vestiges of agriculture were found not in the
settlements but in the graves. This holds also with respect to objects of copper. Even if this
valuation of the grave originated not in passive surrender to death but in active wi11 to master
it, the presumptuous endeavor to create an afterlife could take on such strength only because
63
man's creative capacities could not unfold sufficiently in his first life. This was due either to
the inferiority of his powers as compared with natural forces, or to the social difficulties that
impeded individuals, even those most highly placed. Thus we must look for the first causes
of the Egyptian attitude toward death in the individual's relations to nature and society,
although we can study these only in the form in which they are reflected in the graves, i. e.,
as wish dreams created by unsatisfied rrien.
The bodies found in the graves reveal a great variety of physical types and varied
methods of arranging the hair or beard; the types are not identical with those of Tasa, which
are more decidedly "square-faced and wide-jawed." This fact is of the greatest importance,
but we cannot interpret it with certainty. The marked absence of weapons seems to support
the hypothesis that we are dealing·here with foreigners who came from the south or east for
trading purposes. Brunton states explicitly:
Of trade we have ample evidence. It is a matter of dispute from what neighbouring
lands certain materials and objects come; but it is quite certain that they were not found
or manufactured locally. The basalt vases were probably traded up the river from the
Delta region or from the northwest. Elephant ivory may have been local, but was more
likely imported from the south. Shells came in quantities from the Red Sea shores.
Turquoise possibly came from Sinai; copper from the north. A Syrian connexion is sug- ·
gested for the four-handled pot of hard pink ware. The black pottery, with white incised
designs, may have come directly from the west, or indirectly from the south; and the
celts suggest intercourse in the same directions. The porphyry slabs are like the later
ones in Nubia, but the material could have come from the Red Sea mountains. The
glazed steatite beads, found in such profusion, can hardly have been made locally.
We see, then, that the Badarians were not an isolated tribe, but were in contact with the
cultures of countries on all sides of them. Nor were they nomads; their pots, some of
them both large and fragile, were absolutely unsuitable for the use of wanderers. 3
~
If we accept this hypothesis-which is entirely plausible, given the geographical situa-
tion-the old domestic economy based on agriculture, cattle breeding, hunting, and handi-
crafts was mixed with a nomadism of a quite new kind. If traders came to Badari, men of
Badari doubtless traveled for trading purposes, and the absence of weapons supports the con-
jecture that the former hunters assumed this function. If wares were imported, there must
have been also some export of goods, and these exports must have been; as later in Greece,
chiefly pottery. If so-and this assumption is confirmed by the high quality of the Badarian
pottery-at least this handicraft must have become largely independent of the unitary, closed
domestic economy.
The traditional feminine crafts (plaiting, weaving, tanning) persist, but we find three
important changes. Ivory fashioning is extended to new objects, such as bracelets, rings,
spoons, and figures of humans. Stone working now includes, besides vases-which are found
in only insignificant numbers-also beads, which inv Ive the operation of piercing, applied
often to hard stones such as carnelian, green jasper, breccia, quartz, and red porphyry.
Finally, copper appears, in rings and in a single tool-remarkably enough, a borer. All these
were probably imported and were at the same time very important for the advance of handi-
crafts. The development in this sphere is less an extension than a refinement. We do not know
whether steatite was glazed locally or was imported ready-glazed. Since the technique later
64
deteriorated, we may assume that it was brought in by an immigrant tribe and was gradually
adopted by the natives, who had less tradition in working it.
The goat and gazelle skins found in the graves help us to form a general idea of the status
of cattle breeding. Should we infer (cf. Brunton4 ) from the rare finds of bones that flesh was
only seldom eaten? Furthermore, we must note the graves of domestic animals, such as sheep,
oxen, goats, dogs (or jackals); these remains, like the human bodies, are wrapped in matting
or even in linen. Possibly a part of the herd was slaughtered upon the death of the herdsman-
owner; or perhaps these animals had a totemic significance for the family, that is, they were
domestic animals that symbolized the familial unity and were given burial after natural or
ceremonial death because they had this representational function. Any interpretation depends
essentially upon whether these were the animals of nomadic herdsmen or of sedentary culti-
vators. But this is the very thing we do not know, so that our ideas about the role of cattle
breeding in the economy of Badari remain vague. Possibly the custom of burying animals
derived from the ever closer connection between cattle breedi.ng and agriculture-from the
fact that the herdsmen were becoming more and more sedentary.
Agriculture, the existence of which is manifested by the presence of grain, tools, and
storage vessels, may have been the chief source of food. But since there is not the slightest
evidence of any advance in its techniques, its relative importance must have decreased with
the rise of trade and the refinement of handicrafts. This decline probably had more social
than economic importance: agriculture ceased to be central to other kinds of work. Thus the
closed domestic economy based on the family was broken down, and the whole life of the
community became less attached to the soil. The process here seems to have been a double
one: on the one hand, nomadic groups became sedentary; on the other, sedentary groups be-
came mobile. One development brought new materials, techniques, experiences, and ideas;
the other, greater prosperity. A feature characterizing Badari is the apparent peacefulness
with which this twofold change took place; there seems to have been also a decrease in
tensions between the crafts, between the sexes, and between natives and foreigners. The
native settlers succeeded in absorbing the alien element within limits fixed by themselves,
and thus achieved an open-mindedness, urbanity, and equipoise that are a completely new
phenomenon in Egyptian prehistory. It represents a moment of equilibrium between the
various forces whose precarious balance once again confronts us in the cult of the dead.
On the whole, the burial customs resemble those of T asa rather than those of Merimda;
this suggests that it was a relatively young community, comprising groups of varied origins,
that insisted upon building a graveyard outside the settlement. For the first time, it is reported,
several graves (twelve out of three hundryd in Mostagedda) were found to differ from the
rest in form, size, and position. They were rectangular instead of oval, were placed in a group
-I
I and apart from the others, on higher ground less exposed to floods, and were considerably
larger than usual, particularly those of men, while among the rest of the graves the men's
and the women's were of the same size. On the other hand, the tombs were poorly furnished :
it was rare to find even two pots, 20 per cent of all the graves contained no pots at all, and the
number of palettes did not amount to even 2 per cent of the number of bodies.
These two circumstances can be explained in relation to the principle of conservation
of magic forces-one consequence of this principle being that it was not possible to acquire
great wealth even through trade, because the exchange value of goods had to be based on the
65
 average of social labor involved in their production and on th~ir use value. The segregation
of an elite would then be referable not to the possession of special wealth or political power
among the individuals so distinguished, but to their role as magicians. As such they were
taboo even in death, but they were subject to no special burial rite, such as that of dismember-
ing of the body and rearrangement of the bones. However, occasionally a head is lacking,
and in the case of one old woman a pot is set in its place. This marks the beginning of a
custom that later is encountered not only in graves but also on one palette relief that will be
discussed in greater detail below.
However, if the differences in the graves are explainable by reason of the existence of a
class of magicians isolated even in death, this would mean that society had deputized its magic
forces- that the exercise of spells was no longer in the hands of any individual or family, but
rather in those of a representative of the community, who was controlled by the group up to
or even after his death. The most natural reasons for such a deputization (voluntary or
enforced) might be arrayed as follows: the presence of strangers, so that unrestricted practice
of magic would have made life completely insecure; the multiplicity and relative autonomy
of the crafts, which had varying interest in a large number of forces against which or for
the propitiation of which spells were cast; the dissolution of the closed domestic economy,
etc. The cession and concentration of magic forces (and the development thereby of a clif-
f erentiated class of magicians) meant not a weakening but a strengthening of magic, and
· the use of agricultural or horticultural motifs shows that the cultivator class particularly was
interested in a higher efficacy of magic.
Greater potency of magic was also, however, an interest of the dead-and of all the
living in so far as they were concerned with the dead. This is evidenced by the now frequently
appearing bead chains worn particularly by children- though also by adults- around the
neck and the hips; by the bracelets found exclusively on men; by the palettes likewise seen
chiefly in men's graves; by the clay boat occurring for the first time. Other gifts include
meat, and also grain, as in Merimda, but here found almost exclusively in the graves of men;
this is even more astonishing if it is assumed that agriculture was in the hands of women.
What is the meaning of all these objects? Are most of them really only ornamental?
It is possible to distinguish three groups of these gifts:
1. Objects that supply.a simulation of the previous exi~tence and that are intended to
strengthen the connection of the second life with the first. This group is at the outset
very small, but later increases: at first the dead are provided only with some preferred
tools or adornments, later all the possessions and activities of their life on earth are
reproduced in the themes of reliefs or paintings. This doubtless means that belief
in a connection between life and afterlife became progressively weaker, and above all
that the desire for nonreturn of the dead became increasingly urgent.
2. Objects necessary for material preservation and nourishment of the dead. Such ob-
jects too are insignificant in number at first, perhaps because of the older custom io f
sharing the family meals with the dead, or perhaps because periodical placing of
meals on the grave was considered sufficient. Later these objects became m.ore sig-
nificant not only quantitatively but also qualitatively, e. g., with the appearance of
so-called tusks and tags, obviously phalli, and found in women's hands. This shows
the value placed on sexual intercourse as a magic means toward assuring resurrection.
66
3. Objects serving as equipment for magic used by the deceased in his second existence
either for himself or on behalf of the survivors. In Badari such objects are by far
in the majority, even if it is assumed that some belong simultaneously to several
categories. The old custom requiring that the dead cast spells in favor of the living
here meets with the new custom requiring that the dead as such be magically insured.
On this hypothesis I interpret the rings, bracelets, and earrings (and later anklets)
as magic means for holding the skeleton together in face of natural decomposition,
and therefore as forerunning actual ceremonial dismemberment and rearrangement
for the purpose of insuring rebirth, On the whole, the magic powers of men seem
to have been considered to be greater than those of women, for most of the adorn-
'ments, and the most precious of them-articles usually looked upon as feminine-
were found in men's graves (e.g., glazed steatite beads). This circumstance, to-
gether with the special size of the graves of the tabooed men, leads to the inference
that magic was in the hands of men. These charms probably served to conjure the
dead away to the "beautiful west" -and the boats doubtless also served this purpose,
for Badari was situated on the east bank of the N ile and the dead had to ferry across
the stream. T his emphasizes again the ambivalent attitude toward the dead: in ac-
cordance with the old tradition, there was a desire to use their powers for the im-
provement of the harvests; but there was also a newer tendency to remove them
from any contact with their former possessions, which they could still see, since
they were made to face westward.
The two main phenomena disclosed by analysis of the burial customs of Badari- the
isolation of the tabooed magicians, and the removal of the burials from the settlement, to-
gether with the greater self-sufficiency of the dead--confirm and complement the conclusion
we have drawn from analysis of the modes of production: greater differentiation of the several
occupational groups was combined with a peaceful interdependence, secured materially by
trade and the handicrafts, and spiritually by concentr~tion of the magic forces of the com-
munity. While for the population as a whole this meant greater dependence upon magic
forces, it meant for some members a greater degree of liberation from the soil and even from
the production of implements. The Badarian pottery does not show the slightest relation in
form to any implement of the culture; the makers of implements seem to have disappeared
in proportion as the potters gained in importance. The isolation of the specialists- potters and
magicians-appea~s complete; but so does their peaceful cooperation, and this produced that
balance of contradictions which constitutes the great charm of Badarian pottery. But we must
not, because of this happy coincidence, forget the heavy price that must eventually be paid
for separating artistic creativity from basic social production. This separation brought about
the gradual decay of the art of pottery.
2 . THE AM R ATIAN C U LTU R E
[vm-x]
The Amratian culture is a continuation of the Badarian. Although the two epochs are
separated by only a short period of time, artistic activity in the second was less centere~ on
clay, and development of plastic form in this medium was neglected in favor of decoration.
67
The latter, aside from the incised "property marks," appears either as white incrustation on
a black background dr as white painting on a red background. It derives not from an aesthetic
need of decoration but from the new social fact that there had come into existence a ruling
class that desired to symbolize its being and, as it were, to document its cult of the dead in
signs intelligible only to the initiated. - (though very few of them are known to us). Much more frequent now, and manifesting
The maker's sense of form had already become so sure that the ornamentation quite
naturally adjusted itself to the shape of the pot. The impression is never that the decoration
is merely the superimposition of a stereotyped design without regard to the shape of the
vessel. Wherever the work has an artistic quality, the colors of the vessel body and of the
ornamentation are related. There is scarcely any creation of new types of vessels, but the old
forms are differentiated, and types that were only in their beginnings in Badari-beakers,
bottles, and vases- become prominent. This points to a great increase of the need of display
in daily life, in which drink begins to play a prominent role. Practical purposes and social
needs mingle in such a way that an analysis of the wares according to their value, from the
cheapest to the most costly, reflects the stratified character of Amratian society, in which
the highest group is made up of the owners of the ?rnamented pottery and of the first large
stone vases.
The rough ware of this period [VIII, 1-7], according to the listing in Petrie' s corpus,
constitutes a surprisingly small proportion of the whole array. Moreover, its forms are either
familiar iri connection with those of Badari (or even of the Fayum) or repeat the forms
of the polished ware. The pointed base, sharply bent sides, and inturning lateral curves
appear as determining principles of v~riation. The dominant form of the Badarian rough ware
is found here, and even later in the Gerzean epoch, only in this modification. Why did this
coarsest ware so largely disappear from the graves, to be replaced by the better ware, a change
that to us seems impractical? , the front and from the back and is checked by the plane. The curve now becomes less convex,
The answer might be that the cheap ware, adapted to practical needs, had become so
common that it was no longer considered suitable for use in graves. It is also conceivable that
the specialized craftsmen no longer found it profitable to produce the smaller types of the
cheapest ware, or that despite-or because of- the growing wealth of some individuals, a
large part of the poorer population were compelled to bury their dead without any pro-
visions. Further, it should be recalled that the persisting Badarian pointed form is found in
the better ware only in the Gerzean epoch. This may prove that originally it served a prac-
tical purpose in household pots, then gradually made its way into the pottery for the dead,
while it was excluded as a form for utility vessels of the better ware as impractical. The
specific uses may have included burying the vessel in a hole in the ground or fitting it into
a hearth made of beveled lumps of earth. Doubtless the most important fact is that, as in
Badari, two quite different types of storage vessels are found side by sid~: the one has a
pointed base and a wide opening; the other has a broad bulge between a narrow base and a
narrow rim. The latter form here begins to influent e the former, as the originally flaring
side is curved inward. The contraction is accentuated to suggest a closure: the emphasis
on the matter to be stored is replaced by emphasis on man, and this in a double sense-it
reflects both pride of possession and fear of assault upon the possession. It is not surprising
that th~ incised signs that begin to appear in this period have been interpreted as property
marks.
68
The red polished ware [VIII, 8-20] takes over several forms partly from among those
of Lower Egypt and partly from those of Badari, without new variations. Something like a
law of conservation of forms seems to have operated here, at least as regards the pots for
household use, while, as we have seen, the vessels for purely industrial purposes seem to vary
many variants, are the ·oval bottles with long necks and the vases for display purposes; only
isolated specimens of these were found in Badari. The common feature of these is the com-
bination of a convex with a concave curve. In the bottles this combination remains bound up
with the practical purpose; since the concave curve is used only for the neck, a great inequality
of heights and of degrees of curvature arises. The vessel expresses not only the idea of pres-
sure of liquid matter as it did in Merimda, but also that of the mutation from motionlessness
to motion as the contents are poured. Form and purpose have both become more complicated,
but the two elements of body and neck do not present a unity of shape. Only complete libera-
tion from utilitarian purpose, or rather replacement of the practical purpose by the relatively
abstract purpose of ostentation, affords the possibility of complementing the law of conserva-
tion of forms with that of perfection of form. '
Up to this point the whole formal development has consisted in differentiating the
initially undifferentiated area defined by the vessel body-by distinguishing the several dimen-
sions and their orientations, and by emphasizing them through lines ( carinate vase of Badari)
or colors (black-rimmed red pots). In this process the third-dimensional effect remained
purely dynamic, without a static check, and as a result the outline of the pot had a completely
fluid spatial function. Perfection of form is now achieved by the invention of a vertical plane
passing lengthwise through the pot. T his plane supplies a modeling reference and introduces a
static factor into the convex lateral surface. This surface now moves toward the plane from
and the eye is impelled to move from the periphery toward a central pivotal line. T he outline
of the pot coincides with that of the vertical modeling plane and takes on greater significance;
this is expressed in the development of a more complex outline. The simple convex curve is
replaced by the sequence of a convex and a concave curve related to an axis running through
the turning point; moreover, the two curves are exactly attuned to each other in height and
degree of curvature, so that richness and unity of form are enhanced.
In the beginning the heterogeneity of the two curves is very strongly emphasized, and
they are designed to manifest the contrast inherent in them: the concave curve grows out of
the convex, the ending portion of the latter being the initial portion of the former. The seg-
ment of the curve· in which the turning point is situated thus assumes a double function, de-
termining the quality of the outline and the whole character of the vessel as a self-sufficient
form. At the same time, however, this function projects the form beyond the mere body of
the vase. The slight flare of the rim, combined with the feeling of a vertical modeling plane
and the somewhat flattened convex surface, suffices to suggest a frontal plane connecting
the directly surrounding space with the form. Thus the adjacent physical space is transformed
into artistic space, and the vase is set in a space of its own.
This achievement clearly shows that the whole process of perfecting the form was not
determined exclusively by the desire for ornamentation, which requires a static though rich
surface, but likewise by the problem of forming a body in space, a problem that arose with
69
 the shaping of the first pot. In the red polished ware, the later development weakened the
contrasts depending on the modeling plane, and less vigorous forms arose. The almost sym-
metrical longitudinal sinusoid curve, with horizontal end portions at top and bottom, char-
acterizes the Amratian epoch as well as the whole evolution from the period of the Fayum.
This curve has greater complexity, displays unity of movement and form, is clearly defined,
and is liberated from any narrow, too definite purpose. Encompassable by .the eye from all
sides and fully retaining its function as a container, this tall vase has an individuality of its
own. It has being independent of all its possible relations, yet a being completely oriented to
and accessible to man.
This convex-concave curve is not found in the black-topped red ware [IX, 1-6] be-
cause the concave element and the blackness of the rim would contradict each other, since
the one suggests opening movement and the other closing, and because the black rim is not
feasible where the outer side surface of the vessel is to be decorated. But since ornamentation
served the display incentive so important in this period, a ware that could not be ornamented
necessarily lost value. This devaluation then inade it suitable for one purpose only, i. e.,
drinking, which had become a social ritual, the occupation of the unoccupied.
From the point of view of form, all these beakers are a proportional modification of the
lower vessel that we have been encountering from the period of the Fayum on. The middle
diameter now decreases to about one third of the height. The long connecting line between
base and rim is only moderately rounded, and the slightly projecting rim is well adapted to
the human lip or to pouring of a liquid. Ease of handling distinguishes the Amratian beakers
from the earlier ones of the Fayum as well as from those of Badari. The vessel is now designed
for human comfort; individual man and not the general requirement has become the yard-
stick of form. This type becomes more interesting when the convex curve connecting
base and rim turns inward, producing a storage vessel with a narrow opening. This results i,n
contrasts of height and of degree of curvature, of asymmetric and .symmetrical relations,
of taut and relaxed curvatures, which -the potter exploited to achieve a complex harmony of
height and width in which height is favored. This is the type we met for the first time in the
Fayum as the inversion and symmetrization of the dominant form. Now it has a narrowed
base and a wall heightened in relation to the width. In other words, it is in line with the
general Amratian tendency to slenderness ( 1: 2).
In summary, the approximately squared pots, which seem to resist man like a wall, are
now eliminated except for the purely industrial pots, which have an extended bulge and an
. inturning rim and small opening. There remain the low and the slender pots, w hich the eye
either dominates from above or encompasses from the sides. For each of these two types the
Amratian potters found a self-sufficient form that rendered the vessel autonomous in
relation to man. This increased self-sufficiency can be understood in the light of the greatly
diminished form potentialities of the rough ware and of the clear typological differences
of form in each group, as well as of the incipient irrBustrial use of the black-topf>ed ware,
previously the most refined. Society had become markedly stratified: the lowest class was se-
verely depressed, and an upper stratum had solidified. This class became a decisive influence in
relation to pottery because of its ideological need for ostentation, expressing itself aesthetically
as a compulsion to ornamentation. Pottery was now a specialized craft, and the forms evolved
according to a logic of their own and their relation to man's vision, tactual sense, and physical
70
I'
.'£
form. The vessel walls and the proportions of the new types suggest association with the
flexibility and complexity of human and animal forms, reflecting also man's consciousness of
his earthbound, torpid condition. The vessel forms became clear and rational without deterio-
rating to a shallow rationalism. The contrasts attained proportion and unity, and the dominant
social class was the vehicle of this synthesis and freedom. But before examining the orna-
mentation that reveals 'the ideology of this class, we must discuss the new and most striking
aspects of the Amratian culture. .
The forms of the graves are the same as in Badari; here too the dead lie in a flexed
position, resting on the left side, with the head toward the south, and the hands covering the
eyes, which face westward. But this means-since the graveyards are on the western shore of
the Nile-that now the dead look away from the cultivated land and their former possessions.
The attitude toward the dead, ambivalent from the era of T asa, now finds its full expression.
The differences in the sizes of the graves become more significant, because now the quantity
of gifts also varies: some of the graves had hardly enough room for the corpse alone; in
others, as many as eighty pots were stored. Besides the number of vessels, the magic equip-
ment of the dead is increased. New objects, such as combs, appear; other, familiar articles
occur more frequently, still others are now found always in the same material, e.g., slate
palettes. Objects of preference are such as can serve both for adornment and for magic.
Were the combs ornaments, or were they intended to facilitate the dead person's "voyage
to heaven," as might be suggested by the fact that they bear bird motifs more frequently
than any other animal forms? It might likewise be asked whether the slate palettes and the
powder of imported malachite were gifts for adornment or medicinal or magic instruments
for warding off the evil eye. The combs went out of use in the same period in which the animal
forms on the slate palettes degenerated and became unrecognizable. The cause of this, in
my judgment, is not a decline of physical needs or of artistic abilities, but the replacement
of the magic cult of the dead by a completely different one; this came about in the final
·phase of the period, during the critical transition from the Amratiari to the Gerzean culture.
Petrie assumes that there was a disrespect for amulets, because he thinks that only animal
shapes served for amulets. Actually, particular animal forms were less desirable for the pur-
pose of defensive spells than were objects of daily use, which were held to have active powers.
Magic and daily life became inseparable, and this for women more than for men; objects
such as arm and ankle bracelets and rings, which in Badari were found exclusively on men,
are here found only on women. Particularly striking is the increase of the so-called tags.
Petrie recognizes their originally anthropomorphic sh~pe, but completely overlooks their
phallic character. In later times the importance for woman of the phallus (ritually tied with
cord ornaments) was stressed in the Osiris myth.
r There was a change also in the wrapping of the corpses: the use of plaited reeds de-
creased, and woven cloth, not infrequently found in the First Culture, disappeared entirely
from the graves. In other words, the specific feminine manufactures disappeared in proportion
as the masculine manufactures multiplied, and this precisely in women's graves. T he reasons
should be obvious. The share of woman in the increasing wealth of the community, as her
labor lost its social value owing to the specialization of work that separated the crafts from
the domestic economy, took the form of gifts. The relative positions of the sexes changed:
instead of an equal, as she had been, woman became a recipient and a protegee. Her symbol
" 71
was the basket that held all the articles of her toilette magic. The attitude to magic itself
began to be ambivalent.
This shift in favor of wealth and male work becomes clearer when we consider the
masculine crafts. New materials haa come into use, most importantly metals-gold, silver,
and copper. The last-named was imported, but copper ore has also been found; we may
therefore infer that the metal was wrought in Egypt. The copper objects are few in number,
and only a small part of them are working tools, chiefly borers. However, it is not certain
that these were hard enough for hollowing out stone vases. Production of such vases with
stone borers and emery required so much time that they constituted the de luxe ware of the
time; rich owners preferred th'e hardest stones, because they were the most difficult to work.
The transition from the boring of beads to the hollowing and grinding of stone vases was the
first step toward monumentalism, which later became one of the main characteristics of
Egyptian art. Another technique that had come from abroad during the Badari period-
glazing, particularly of steatite-spread and also deteriorated during the Am~atian period.
Ivory carving now embraced more objects, particularly combs. Despite the presence of
copper, flint remained the chief material for implements, but the flint technique und~rwent
changes.
In addition to die importation' of copper from the Sinai Peninsula, wood was brought
from Syria to sparsely forested Egypt, which until then had been compelled to content itself
with the easily splintering tamarisk wood. The fairly large grain-drying kilns show how the
prosperity acquired through the division and extension of labor affected the detail of life in
the community. The structure of these kilns, with their vessels ranged in several rows, was
well calculated for heat regulation. The growth in mastery of fire (in metal casting) gives us
the measure of the advance achieved by the craftsmen in knowledge, ability, and persistence.
The growth of trade also helped to shift a large share of the wealth to the hands of the
men. Nevertheless, it is unlikely that the social change thus far reflected in the relations be~
tween the sexes, and in an incipient functional change in magic, was due solely to the greater
specialization of the crafts and the extension of trade. A factor that now distinguishes the
graves of men from those of women is the circumstance that in the considerable mounds of
ashes in the tombs (probably from the meals of the dead), vestiges of meat were often found.
Probably the occupants of these graves were herdsmen whose holdings of cattle were in-
creasing. The sporadic finds of white-incrustated black pottery suggest that the nomadic
herdsmen whom we met for the first time in T asa, wandered on to southern Egypt, then to
Nubia, and in the course of their relations with the natives developed cattle breeding, founded
their own political dominion, and evolved their own culture in both countries. We shall
learn about its ' character and history from the motifs used in ornamentation of the vases.
First, however, it is in order to discuss the custom of dismembering and rearranging the
I the magic powers ~f the magician in his lifetime.
bodies of the dead.
Since the facts regarding this were ascertained by both De Morgan and Petrie, who
usually disagree, the problem is not whether the practice existed, but what its meaning was
and to what persons it applied. Petrie enumerates a number of different usages: the head alone
was severed and either entirely removed or placed separately in the grave, apart from the
rest of the body; the forearms and hands were cut off; the trunk was cut into sections; the
whole body, after a definite interval of decay, was sectioned and the members were re-
72
arranged in a second burial. The meaning of this custom may have changed with the condi-
tions of life. Possibly, in. the period when the herdsme11 roamed about and had to leave their
dead behind, they ate parts of the bodies, in order to transfer the powers and knowledge
subsisting in them to the survivor group, so that the sum of magic forces might be conserved.
When th_e nomads became sedentary and began to fear the dead for reasons connected with
expropriation and inheritance, the living probably wished to curtail the magic actions of the
dead; this is strongly suggested in the practice of removing the feet, forearms, and hands. T he
Pyramid Texts (and the Book of the Dead) offer a more moralistic interpretation. It was
believed that the evil in man must be destroyed and the body must be given a new life. The
dead mari's body, which decayed because of his sins and through natural processes, was given
back to him .in a pure and complete form; he was ready for his resurrecti<,?n.
While the ideas of these texts are clear, it remains a question whether they can be traris-
f erred from historical to prehistoric times, since in the course of its evolution a given custom
.may lose its original significance and acquire an opposite import. In earlier times the body
of the deceased was dismembered for the sake of the living, to preserve for the latter the
magic powers that belonged to it; in dynastic times it was sectioned and reassembled for the
sake of the dead, to provide a second existence for him far from the living. To which point
of this long evolution is the Amratian culture to be referred?
Since belief in magic, as shown by the furnished graves and the vase ornaments, still
prevailed, there must have been present also the conviction that the dead threatened the con-
servation of magic forces. The dead had to be prev.ented from taking with them their share
of magic forces, particularly when they were persons who had disposed over the sum total
of the magic forces of the community. The necessary delegation of all magic powers to
one individual exposed the community to the danger of losing not only a part of the magic
forces but the entirety of them, if the dead person should take them with him as his private
property to secure his second existence. The individual invested by the community had to
be compelled to convey all the magic forces to his successor. This became increasingly diffi-
cult as the magician's power grew greater and as he· came to combine magic and political
domination. Therefore attempts were made to propitiate him, and he was promised ample
material and magic equipment for his second life; this may explain the magic signs on the
vessels. The dismemberment and rearrangement of the body were thus part of the ritual
designed to safeguard the community's continued possession of its magic forces, which was
jeopardized by the magician's death. These rites supplemented those which had maintained
In the second aspect of our question we are concerned with ascertaining to what persons
these practices applied. It has been inferred from the contents of the isolated graves of Badari
that magic was practiced by the males. Furthermore, it has been shown that a great social
and political change took place: the closed domestic economy had been dissolved and a
political community consisting of differentiated occupational groups and various races had
been formed. In my opinion, it is likely that this process was initiated and carried out under
the aegis of the immigrant herdsmen, with their knowledge of copper and their military
organization, rather than under that of the craftsmen and traders. T he question is: Did the
political and the magic powers reside in the same persons? Later history suggests an affirma-
tive answer, for only the bodies of rulers were dismembered and rearranged-although the
73
significance of the manipulations changed. But is this sufficient ground on which to conclude
that in the cities, or in the larger regions formed in the course of prehistoric development
from combinations of villages, the magicians and princes were the same persons? Later we
shall show that a design on one particular vase might argue against this.
The practice of dismemberment is evidence that the prince's position was precarious,
and this accounts for his inclination to adopt another form of religion. Since his tenure of
magic powers was conferred by the community, his security in this life depended upon his
success in exercising these powers, and his well-being in the next life upon the good will of
his community. Even in the Pyramid Texts the king and "son of the god" trembles in the
nether world for fear of a second death from hunger and thirst. After the princes superseded
the clan and the family, there arose a profound discrepancy between the attitudes of the new
social order and the ·old ideology of magic. The prince, as the expropriator of all the avail-
able labor power (or its product), had to assert himself as against the magician, who was the
representative of the people. The resolution of this conflict through the introduction of
slavery and belief in gods lies outside the Second Culture, the ideology of which rests essen-
tially upon the premise that the magic forces were surrendered by the community to indi-
vidual specialists in order to further agriculture and insure the welfare of the dead.
3. THE STYLES OF ORNAMENTATION
All of the prehistoric ornamented pottery that has come down to us can be classified
according to techniques. These include simple notching of the natural material, white incrus-
tation on blackened material, white painting on a polished red background, and red painting
on a pale-yellow background. The decorated ware of the Amratian culture belongs to the
third group. The limited number of colors, the simple character of the combinations, the
consistency with which the same colors are retained, and the obvious time separation between
the pottery decorated in white and that ornamented in red, suggest a linkage with more than
mere gratification of the need for adornment, all the more so because \Vhite became the color
of the Upper Egyptiap. crown and red that of the Lower Egyptian. There is also limitation
in the forms of ornamentation: in each style there is one form element that is built up into
complicated motifs according to definite principles and methods. Although a content was
handed down to the artist as a completed system, he tried to re-create this content artistically
from a few constant elements-and this shows how early the will to form a style was at work
in Egypt.
It is this urge to formal systematization of content that makes the meaning of the devices
a logical subje'ct of inquiry. The usual vague assertion that we are dealing here with magic
signs or religious symbols is inadequate. To satisfy scientific requirements, a translation of
the forms into concepts must supply us with knowledge of at least three things: the definite
meaning of the cult of the dead, since all the vessels 'n question were found in graves; the
general socio-economic structure from which these signs arose; and, finally, the logical prin-
ciples followed by this epoch, or more accurately, by its ruling class, for the pots belonged
exclusively to persons of the upper social stratum. The fact that the forms are not actual
decoration does not preclude the presence of an artistic urge to play and a need for adorn-
ment. But these were limited by the closed ideology of the ruling class. . correct to demand proof where it is postulated that several meanings are represented by the
74
An attempt to i~terpret a symbolic language dating back six thousand years by eluci-
dating its graphic content', social basis, and logical principles, must naturally measure up to
certain scientific criteria. Such criteria are:
1. The.· array of signs must be as complete as possible, and the several style and content
groups must be sharply distinguished and understood in their mutual relations. It is not enough
to refer in general terins, as Petrie does, to a uniform "cross-lined" style. The elements used ·
for the designs have quite different forms in each style: these include the static, geometrically
straight line, crossed 11nes, the crotchet, and the fluid line adapted to the vessels and their
surfaces. Each element has its own characteristic 'composition and follows a distinct decora-
tive principle. There are five styles, and each presents the problem of its social basis and its
relation to the other styles and their bases: This variety of styles can be explained in the light
of many factors-the development in time, the number of active crafts in the social group,
the meeting and coexistence of different peoples, the specific requirements of various cults
and ceremonies, and varying local origin and importance.
2. The internal evidence or contemporaneous testimony of the elements, as well as of the
i;nethods of combining them, must be of primary concern. In art, form and content are
integrated; therefore, despite all possibilities of error,, internal evidence is a more valuable
criterion in the interpretation of artistic expression than in the investigation of epistemo-
logical or metaphysical speculations.
3. The unity and systematic character of the material must be established. In other
words, the interpretations must be co~sistent both historically and philosophically; they must
support and confirm one another.
4. In the survey of any given period, historical evidence supplied by earlier or later
epochs must be correlated, with due awareness of the possibility of changes in meaning. We
are dealing with signs of a definite period, not with a universal language. The signs of later
pictorial or written documents are not necessarily to be regarded as identical with those in
question, nor should the content of the later signs be projected into the past; they may, how-
ever, supply certain indications as to the field in which the interpretation is to be found. The
literary sources (Pyramid Texts or Book of the Dead), partly in their lack of understanding
of earlier times and partly by reason of their moralistic and abstract character, reveal that the
social foundations changed; this precludes an identity of ideologies. Thus, analysis of the
mythical animal accompanying Osiris as judge of the dead, which has the head of a crocodile,
the body of a lion, and the rump of a hippopotamus,5 does not explain why representations of
the crocodile-and the hippopotamus occur on Amratian pottery; rather, conversely, the com-
mon appearance of these animal forms in prehistory shows the derivation of the mythical
animal. Again, the prehistoric crocodile motif is not used to rob the dead of their magic, as
appears in the Book of the Dead; it is so employed in later times when the prehistoric meaning
has been forgotten. Generally speaking, the older signs must not be regarded as casting light
on texts of later epochs; instead, these texts are more or less distorted interpretations of the
original signs. ··
5. One must not be deterred in advance by the multiple meanings of the signs, because
the logical principle of identity (a= a) is a product of a later period. However, it is quite
75
same sign. The narrow-minded scholastic approach must be abandoned if we are to achieve
any understanding of prehistory.
The Geometric Style
[xn-xv]
The oldest signs known to us, those of T asa, are composed of angles and straight lines,
and we may infer with fair certainty that they were brought there by nomadic immigrants
who probably came as herdsmen acquainteu with metal casting. Moreover, in no other style
has the element of drawing given rise to so many systematic combinations. This style has the
clarity and consistency of its mathematical basis; and it is particularly fortunate that, so far as
present knowledge goes, it falls first in a chronological order of interpretation.
f:J,.,f' '(i'
The beginnings of pottery were rooted in necessity; tJb~ ~eginnings of its ornamentation
were rooted in mathematics, in the sense that there was a will to abstraction, i. e., to achieve
a certain detachment from the physical quality of the object, to distill and bring forth from
amorphousness something simple, limited, fixed, enduring, and universally valid. The neo-
lithic artist wanted a world of forms illustrating not changeable and transient activities and
events (such as we can see symbolized in the contemporaneous rock drawings in the eastern
desert) but rather the relations of people to one another and to the cosmos within an un-
ch~~gifl;~ system. The intention was not to suppress the content of life but to dominate it,
to compel it to surrender its physical ascendancy to the power of creative will-to man's drive
to manipulate and refashion his world.
For historical and methodological reasons, therefore, our analysis begins with the geo-
metric style [XII-XV]. The peculiarity of this style lies not only in the fact that the static,
straight line, which never occurs in nature and has life only through the precision and energy,
with which it is drawn, is the main element ohhe design, but above all in the fact that, starting
from changes in position and combinations of a few basic factors (angle and circle), and with
the help of a few geometric principles of relation (cumulation, row, centering, reference to
an axis), increasingly complex structures and a symbolization of the prevailing philosophy
are achieved. This geometric style was not a matter of individual fancy, but answered the
vital need of a closed group of people, which through it raised themselves above the confusion
of emotions and things and accomplished the first stage in a journey that eventually led to
Aristotelian logic and Euclidean geometry.
The fact that we find mathematical intellect set up as a force for controlling the
world might le~d us from methodological habit to base our analysis of the geometric style
on the order to which Euclidean geometry has accustomed us-i. e:, point, straight line, angle,
plane figure. In our earlier discussion, however, the ornamentation of Tasa disclosed to us
the fundamental, socially determined difference between angle and point designs, and there-
fore we must begin with the historical beginning, the arigle.
Two straight lines forming an angle can be regarded as the primary element of all orna-
mentation, because the angle motif is found as early as the paleolithic era and has never since
been abandoned. The angle form survived the early epochs and cultures because its associa-
tions are deeply rooted in the elemental facts of human.life, because it clearly visualizes con-
flicting kinds of content, and because it can be given various applications through changes of
76
position, combinations, etc. It is obvious that an angle pointing upward (A) represents the
arrow, i. e., the death-dealii1g power of man, while the angle pointing downward ( v ) repre-
sents the female genitals, i.e., the life-giving power of woman. The latter interpretation is
confirmed by the small sculptures of the epoch, on which the female genitals are denoted by
an angle standing on its apex, filled with crossed lines, and closed by a line across the top ( v).
The hieroglyphic·denoting woman is a semicircle opening upward ( u), which is only
a variant of the angle. For the later Egyptians, according to Plutarch, an equilateral triangle
standing on its apex denoted the heart, which was regarded as the seat of man's spiritual and
magic powers; this suggests a form connection between the organs of the material and of the
spiritual life. .
The important role of the arrow is evidenced on the vases of Susa-where there was a
lance cult dedicated to the god Marduk-as well as by the pyramid form of Egyptian dwell-
ings for the dead, by the image of the spear of Horus found on the backboard of a mummy, 6
and in all the Egyptian sculpture of the historical epoch. In this sculpture, walking men are ·
represented with legs forming an angle in the shape of an arrow, while women are in the great
majority of instances represented with almost contiguous lines for the extremities, probably
because it was considered fatal for women to spread their legs.
The Greeks, still later, knew the difference of meaning in the two signs. In vessels dating
from the seventh century B.g., one occasionally sees the motif of a snake with upward point-
ing angles beneath it and downward pointing angles above its coils; since among the G reeks
the snake stood for earth and rejuvenation, this arrangement connotes 'the death under the
earth and the renewal of life above the earth. The Greeks did not take over these signs
directly from the Egyptians, but the knowledge of them among the two peoples derives from
the same source. I have already pointed out that the sign for woman imitates a formation of
nature, that for man the shape of an implement; what is contrasted to woman, conceived as
a natural being, is homo faber, not the phallus. Woman gives life through her nature; man
brings death through his culture. The fact that the same form can represent such highly con-
trasting ideas, merely through a change of position, is partly due to the role played by the
fingers, which mediate between real things and creative imagination. Two spread fingers,
upraised, point toward heaven; this adds a third significance besides the associations with the
female genitals and with .birth (life-giving). It partly explains why later Egyptian art repre-
sents heaven as a female deity (while elsewhere heaven is usually conceived as male) . Two
spread fingers turned downward point toward the earth (the grave) and add the meaning
"under the earth" to the connotations "man" and "death." The role of the finger as a link is
diversified: it explains the strictly geometric form of the sign, for the finger stands both for
the erect male organ and for the straig~t line, thus alluding to the specific sexual fundaments
of all intellectual emotions; moreover, the finger forms the liaison between the neolithic signs
and paleolithic art.
I have shown elsewhere7 in detail that the geometric relations and the arithmetical pro-
portions in single animal forms in paleolithic cave paintings are derived from the structure of
the hand, and that the evolution proceeds from the resting hand with spread fingers to the
moving hand and to finger play. If the form sources of the-Egyptian neolithic signs are thus
to be found in the paleolithic past, they are in turn a steppingstone toward the future-the
rich and complicated symbolism of the hand and fingers in ·the Buddhist art of India and
77
 China. In Europe, Christianity almost entirely wiped out the vestiges of this magic of the
hand. For what does the folding of the hands in prayer mean but a prohibition against casting
spells with the hand? Incidentally, the magic signs of prehistoric Egypt-are not the only links
between the paleolithic and the historical era; in Sumerian culture too the hand and fingers
play an important role.
Although the angle is neither an Egyptian nor a neolithic invention, it plays a funda-
mental part in neolithic Egypt, because its multiple and richly contrasting meanings also lend
manifold meanings to the numerous combinations of it. The lack of simplicity and identity,
and the fact that meanings which often appear to us ~bsolutely opposed to each other are
juxtaposed, cannot be adduced in support of the assumption of a prelogical mysticism; they
are referable to a different type of logic.8 We have only to free ourselves from the logic of
general concepts, rooted in Greek philosophy and resting on comparison of things that belong
together in essence, to see that for the nomadic herdsman-warrior the relational sequence
man-lance-death-earth was an inevitable one as soon as the dead man was buried. He con-
ceived mere temporal sequence as cause and effect, as a unity. So with the oppositions that are
coupled under the compulsion of physical (sexual) and ideological needs. The pressure of
daily perils and the sudden passage from life to death led the herdsman-warrior to associate
the opposite phenomenon-the passage from nonlife to life-with the inverse sign. In our eyes,
· heaven and woman have nothing directly in common. In his eyes, they were subsumed under
one specific concept: both are the seat of new life. The geometric sign represented this con-
cept with all its subordinate concepts, just as for us a genus includes its species.
The difference lies not in the formal intellectual principles involved but in man's greater
or lesser detachment from the real content.rooted in his physical and spiritual needs, and this
detachment depends in turn upon the means of production (implements and weapons) and
the forms of organization by which he dominates the world known to him, and upon the,
wish ideas that express the limits of his domination. In the neolithic world these limits were -
such that the succession of events and phenomena and the sexual needs, which could least be
regulated by means of implements, determined which things were related to each other and
which things were opposed to each other, which opposites could be interchanged, and which
related things could be separated in space. Behind all this is the basic logic of antithesis and
synthesis- the Aristotelian system, grounded on the hierarchic order of concepts, being only
one of its historical forms. ·
The factor that characterizes the neolithic Egyptian of the Amratian culture is his choice
among the formai possibilities for expressing the real and imaginary worlds with the help of
angles. The pri? ciple of variation can be used only in the very restricted sense of positional
change, because the magic of cumulation in the same motif permits of only strictly parallel
repetitions. Yet the angles in the various ornamentations vary from the acute through the
right to the obtuse. The variation depends partly upon whether the artist wants to speak
directly through the angles or only indirectly, i.e., tHrough the negative forms that arise
between the actual angles; in the latter case, he can increase the number of angles (from three
to eleven or more), widen them, or prolong the sides. Moreover, the degree of the angle
opening is probably a physiognomic expression referring to the favored type of woman or
the energy and force of the arrowhead and the male-sexual conquering power. The variations
reveal that in the fields of activity most vital for preservation of life and procreation the neo-
78
lithic Egyptian had achieved a gr.eat differentiation of his urges and ideas, his wishes and
modes of expression. Among the variations in position, we have besides downward and
upward pointing of the angles, also the pointing to left or right (< or >). As long as only the
lateral positioning is used, it can be changed into the vertical merely by a half turn of the vessel.
W hen horizontally and vertically positioned angles occur together, they doubtless stanq for
two crossed arrows sigi1ifying conquest, i. e., male combat as distinct from the conflict of
the sexes.
Passing from the variations to the combinations, we obtain the following possibilities:
1 . A ngle w ithin Angle. W ithin one angle is placed another, with its sides exactly parallel
to those of the first; within this is set still another, and so on. The sides of the inserted angles
are successively shorter; often the terminations of all of the sides fall on the suggested periph-
ery of a circle. The given angles thus form a cumulation that is clearly distinguished from
any adjoining cumulation, even if their apexes or ends meet those of other angles. The cumu-
lation of parallel angles is a· magic means for securing domination. Whether the number of
the angles inserted into one another has a meaning of its own remains an open question.
2 . Angle beside Angle. As long as the primary angles are separated by space intervals,
only the magic principle of cumulation, so essential for the whole style, is made explicit. But
when adjacent primary angles are pushed together so that the extremities of their sides touch
one another, there arises, between each pair of angles pointing in the same direction, one angle
pointing in the opposite direction, which I call a negative form. If the drawn Qr positive
angles contain parallel inserted ones, while the negative angles remain empty, there arises the
difference between two realities: the deliberately made (white lines) and the given (red
background). The device of the negative was doubtless not an invention of the potters, but
was probably based on hundreds or thousands of years of experience accrued by the pro-
ducers of stone implements:
As a rule, each chip shows at the point at-which it was struck a rounded protuberance,
the trace of which can be seen on the nucleus itself: it is the so-called percussion bulb, a
kind of trademark certifying that the cut was intentional, since natural chips do not
show it.9
But in ceramics the negative acquired a new and precise meaning:,it afforded the possibility
of speaking simultaneously of two worlds. The artist drew the death-bringing arrows that
bespeak a dying man, while his real intention was to produce the star that resulted as a
negative.
The relation between the two existential spheres-the primary figure and the indirectly
obtained form-varied in the course of prehistory. Gradually a stage was reached at which
the positive figure was made only for the sake of the negative form. The negative itself finally
became merely a background for new figures revealing the originally concealed significance
of the device. We have here the first artistically adequate attempt to express a religious theory
of two worlds.
Two contiguous angles form a rudimentary row; the row can be continued indefinitely
around the vessel, so that any angle or apex can be regarded as the beginning or the end. While
the number of a cumulation of longitudinally positioned angles can always be computed;
although sometimes not at a glance, a cumulation of horizontally positioned angles in a con-
tinuous row acquires the meaning of infinity. The expressive importance of the-infinite row
79

is most clearly seen in the fact that it is m~re frequent and occurs earlier than separated pairs
of angles pointing in the same direction, although such pairs had a definite meaning. If an
upward pointed angle is repeated (M), the resulting sign no longer denotes the death-dealing
act but .rather the state of being dead or a dead person; this form is like that of a capital M in
the Lann or Greek alphabet, and its meaning strikingly coincides with that of the word mors
or the Greek negative particle µ~ or the name Mii, designating the oldest earth deity. If we
recall that for the Egyptians death meant not only the termination of earthly life but also and
above all liberation for a new, second life, we see that the Greek µm6µm and other terms for
"serving as midwife" also belong to this category. If the downward pointing angle is repeated
(w), ,the resulting sign denotes being alive instead of giving life; the form is like that of a
W, and its meaning curiously coincides with that of the Latin words vivere and vulva.
. Alt?ou.gh the mere inversion of any vessel can reverse the meaning and change the
sign of hfe mto that of death, the neolithic pottery of Europe proves that the distinction in
meaning became established. In the eyes of the neolithic Egyptian the complex signs.
~ and w seem t~ have meant the transition from the one state to the other rather than opposi-
tion ~f t~em, as is prove~ by a vessel illustrated by Bissing10 and even more clearly by the
c.ombmanon o.f the.two signs on a vessel of the Gerzean period <!).This is only an expres-
~10n o~ the pnmal idea that death passes into life and transience becomes eternity. But this
idea did not prevent the use of finite groups of angles. What is m~ant in each case is the place
of the dead-the place under the earth or in heaven, or the "beautiful west" at the horizon
where earth and heaven meet. But the ceaseless change from life to death and from death to
life was most adequately represented by a self-closing and therefore infinite row. Hence also
the determining artistic significance of the row: it en~o~ ,asses the vessel with the ornamen-
t~t~o_n as a chain encompasses the wrist or the neck; it f ette; s a'nd protects, and e~hances the
luster. The underlying decorative principle of this style is the sexually determined need ~of
adorning the body.
. . In add~tion to its ~eligious meaning (the comforting assurance that death changes into
hfe JUSt as hfe changes mto death), the ro"'.' of angles has a social meaning: when male angles
are drawn, female ones result as negatives, and vice versa. The two sexes depended upon each
other, but each was for the other a world apart, doubtless because of the difference of their
occupations; yet the use of contiguous angles suggests that despite or because of their differ-
ences the two sexes had achieved equal rights and that what tensions there were arose within
this fundamental equality. This of course does not preclude the difference between domi-
nating men and dominated women (concubines, slaves); only in the uppermost social stratum
did domination fail to extend to the relation between the sexes, a fact later confirmed in the
light of the endogamy in the dynastic family.
The row cannot be carried around the vessel in a longitudinal direction, and it is possible
t~at the artist experienced this limitation as a shocklik; encounter with nothingness, inducing
him to force the idea of the motif into a circumscribed form, as an abbreviated motif. This
might explain the secon?ary en_iergence of the signs M and w, particularly since the separate
parts of the ornamentation begm to appear within framing lines only later.
.
mg
3· Opposed ~ngles: T~o ~ngles ma~ be placed one above the other, with apexes meet-
<X). We can mterpret this sign accordmg to the three meanings of its elements: (a) death
80
passes into life; (b) heaven rests upon the earth; (c) woman is placed above man in the sexual
act. This third meaning goes back to paleolithic times; it is naturalistically expressed in the
relief of Laussel. Elsewhere it is often indicated by the sign of opposed angles; it is _also
confirmed by one of the Pyramid Texts, in which it is stated that Osiris placed Isis on his
member and that his seed fl.owed into her. 11 This position may have been regarded as the
logical one in a coitus ·intended to assure r.ebirth for the deceased.
X
The second meaning of the sign points to the later myth of the primal connection
between earth and heaven before their separation. The Amratian culture has a more compli-
cated sign ( >fu ) that even more fully conveys this cosmogonic myth. The device appears
on a charcoal-painted clay box from El-Amrah 12 [XV, 10] and shows the primeval waters,
heaven, and earth in sequence without division. It is the first graphic expression of what was
later taken to be the hidden meaning of the triangle formula ( 32 + 4 2 = 5 2 ) pertaining to
the occult system of numbers found in the Great Pyramid and representing one half of the
section of a vertically bisected pyramid. It figures as the "emblem of the universe," in con-
formity with the equation Osiris + Isis ~ Horus-embodying the idea of the primal unity
of the world at the beginning of the process of creation.
X
Regarding the first meaning of the sign nothing further need be said except that it
expresses for the first time the idea that life after death and heaven are identical, i. e., that the
seat of the afterlife is heaven. The above-mentioned tripartite cosmogonic sign might mean
that there is for the dead a place under the earth as well as above it. However, triplicity does
not yet seem to be postulated for human relations or for the individual; later the number three
will confront us chiefly ip the parallel relations humans-gods-dead and body-soul-ka. The
angles in the sign X are placed like those in a Greek X; the mea~ings of the words xao~
("dark air"), xdw ("pour," "pour into a hollow"), xa6w ("swallow"), and even xatQw
("greet"), which begin with this letter, are strikingly close to my interpretation of the sign,
in either its c_osmologic, sexual, or religious sense (transition from life to death). The Egyptian
.
sign is reminiscent of a Stone Age sign found in Transylvania, in which the two opposed
angles are separated by a vertical line ( X), and which might be read as a simpler version of
the Egyptian heaven-earth myth-earth as man separated from heaven ~s woman by a third
element. If so, the Transylvanian sign represents the stage of the cosmogonic myth following
X,
that of the sign which was doubtless brought by different groups of one tribe to Egypt
. and to central Europe.
In the linear style, when the two angles are arranged apex to apex_in a horizontal posi-
tion, they are always surrounded by one or several ovals [XIII, 9], which denote graves or
I
the womb of the earth. W e may be dealing here with the struggle of the dead against a hostile
power; it is more likely that the sign represents a double grave, that is, it invoked a sexual
charm-the deceased is thus assured that a person of the other sex is buried with him and that
his sexual needs will be satisfied. This would place ·the neolithic magic chronologically be-
tween the early custom of slaying the wife when the husband died and the obscure phrase .
dating from dynastic times: "She [the wife] shall be buried in the west, very beautifully old,
as an honored one beside her husband." 13 In the horizontal arrangement of the sign, more
than in the vertical, the Egyptians of the Amratian period avoided a complete joining of the
! two angles into a cross, as we find them later in the European neolithic age, usually framed in
81
I
 rectangles. The form of the sign is reminiscent of the Greek e, and in its content the mean-
ings of 6af.aµo; ("inner room" ), Bavaro; ("death" ), 6Eio; ("divine"), 6vµ6; ("soul" as the prin-
ciple of life, feeling, and thought), 6uw ("sacrifice") are still undifferentiated.
4. Angles in Lozenge For711ation. Here the angles meet in their openings, their sides
O
forming a lozenge ( ,<>). This combination is exceedingly rare in the whole of the Second
Culture. The chief exemplar is found in a bowl from El-Mahasna reproduced in illustration
by Ayrton and Loat. The vessel shows nvo hippopotamuses at each side of the rim, a sign
of death and a sign of life opposed, though separated, on an assumed line bisecting the inner
surface, and four connected lozenges on a median at right angles; the two lozenges in the
middle in close the male sign of death, and the two outer ones the female sign of life. It
may be conjectured that these lozenges are only a variant representation of hippopotamuses-
perhaps geometric facial views, the usual manner of representation in the paleolithic age. If so,
their meaning would be identical with that of the design on the vessd illustrated by
De Morgan and Bissing, which will be discussed later.
The absence of the lozenge in the Second Culture cannot be ascribed to factors of art
or magic, because the form is prolongable in either length or breadth and can be filled out
with parallel angles as well as \Vith crossed lines; the sole explanation must be that its meaning
contradicted the conceptions of the Egyptians of that time. By this symbol death and life,
man and woman, heaven and earth, are merged into one figure. But at least with regard to
the cult of the dead and the cosmology, the evolution was in an opposite direction: heaven
was separated from earth, and the dead were removed from among the living to more and
more indeterminate worlds. Only socially were man and woman later united into a family as
a heteronomous work unit. It is doubtless not an accident that the sign avoided in the Second
Culture emerged in the Third Culture at the same time that representations of the family
began to appear; but in the Amratian culture the equality and independence of the sexes,_at
least in the class that availed itself of the magic sign, had probably still too much force to
permit of representation of the family by a uniform and closed sign. The absence of the
lozenge, a form so naturally suggested, shows very clearly how much the ornamentation
of the Second Culture depended upon the dominant ideology.
All these meanings are in accord with the formal principle of maintaining the inde-
pendence and clarity of the elements of a given sign even in combination, of not subordinating
the constituent factors to the motif they form. Violation of this principle would have aborted
the dialectic process of forming of oppositions in favor of a constant shape and a meaning no
longer shifting between contrasts. On the other hand, the principle excluded all combinations
that, like hoo'king ( L> ) or superimposition of sides of angles ( Nm.. ) , do not lead to figures
at all or only to obvious illustration. This shows that a fundamental formalizing trait found
in later Egyptian art-the tendency to reduce specific multiplicity to a minimum and to
achieve an optimum of clarity in geometric simplibty-was already crystallizing even in
the prehistoric era.
The angle is employed predominantly with the intention of producing a negative
pattern determined by the number of the drawn angles and their positional relation, i. e., the
manner of their contact or separation. For this purpose the angles may be placed within a
ring, ranged along its periphery, or between two concentric rings. The ring or circle is not
82
used by itself or in connection with similar forms; it is always a form to which other, dis-
similar forms are related. The ring formed by putting the tip of the thumb on that of the
index finger suggests the meaning of the form-the world closed within itself' hidden or to
be hidden. When the design is based on concentric rings, the inner ring-usually an oval-
signifies the grave (also predominantly oval in form) or the womb of the earth, while the
outer signifies heaven o·r, more accurately, the celestial equator. The former, whether drawn
or only suggested, symbolizes the source from which everything springs and, at the same
time, the place to which everything returns-the beginning and end of all things, the seed of
grain as well as of rrtan. The outer circle suggests the goal toward which all forces strive. The
·sign is a picture of the universe. Here again we have the form of a letter of the G reek and
Latin alphabets that is related to a meaning (3Ao;, orbis) identical with that derived in our
analysis of the sign. In the most general interpretation, all the signs situated between the two
rings, so different in size, signify the unfolding of forces from the closed womb of the earth
to the vastness of the cosmos: It is now our task to discover the concrete meanings of the
individual arrangements.
Three angles may be grouped in such a way that two lie under the horizontal diameter
on either side of the vertical diameter, while the third lies on the vertical diameter in the
upper half of the circle [XII, 13-1 7]. These three angles give rise to a Y shape as a negative.
In the dynastic period, this sign y denotes the bearer of heaven, i. e., the god of the air
(man), who separates and raises heaven (woman) from the earth (man) . A more primitive
meaning may have been that of separation after embrace in sexual intercourse, and this sug-
gests _a similar Sumerian sign ( yy) denoting procreation. It may also stand for vegetation
rising above the earth; if so, it reflects an assimilation of the world of agriculture with that of
the herdsman-warrior. But the narrower meaning, associated with the cult of the dead, is prob-
ably that of the path leading from below upward, forking, and touching heaven at two points
-in brief, the path of the dead leading toward heaven. A caption in a text of later times
doubtless hit almost exactly upon the meaning of this sign: "Man going out of the kingdom
of the dead whither he wills (to become well-provided and blissful with Osiris)." In the Book
of the Dead another text speaks of lands situated on both sides of a "sea of fite," through
which the deceased must journey by two paths to reach his goal.
One example shows the group of three angles drawn so close together that the interspace
between their apexes seems to be blocked by a knot-perhaps a symbol of the obstacles and
dangers encountered by the dead. Another example, belonging to the crosslined style, shows
groups of parallel strokes in the three branches of the Y, the number of lines per cumulation
increasing from right to left: a cumulation of six (two groups of three each) is succeeded by
a cumulation of seven (a group of three and a group of four) and this by a cumulation of
nine (three groups of three each). There is a relevant text dating from the Middle Empire:
"I [the dead] am Shu [god who supports the heavens] , I have climbed on the light of rays." 14
Thus we have here probably a spell designed to increase personal strength. The Y form is con-
nected with the Greek r and thus with in6; ("son" ) and vw ("rain" ), both of which are
closely related to our interpretation, because it was the son and heir who by his sacrifices
opened the gates of the grave for his dead father, and because the path followed by the forces
rising from the earth to heaven was also the path along which the beneficent or malign forces
of heaven came down to earth.
 Four angles within a circle or oval may produce different pictures accordfng to their
size [XIII]. If they are so small that they are restricted to the ends of the horizontal and
vertical diameters of the peripheral ring, there arises as a negative the form of a cross; the
meaning of the cross and its connection with the later hieroglyphic for town have been men-
tioned above. Obviously, the kingdom of the dead, (or all the space between the grave and
heaven) was imagined as an intersection of two gigantic roads along which the dead could
move, as well as the forces corning down from heaven to earth. It would seem to fit in with
this idea that the arms of the cross (roads) contain five or six strokes [XIII, 2 ]-the numbers
five and six being the two basic elements of the prehistoric Egyptian numerical system, derived
from the articulation of the hand and from the division of the circle into a regular hexagon
by means of the radius. Quibell has reproduced the most remarkable arrangement of such
cumulations of straight lines [XX, 1 2]: It comprises alternating groups of longer and shorter
strokes; each group type is repeated seven times. The groups of smaller strokes represent all
the numbers from three to seven, with repetition of the seven, and the total of strokes is
thirty-nine; the groups of larger strokes represent the numbers six, eight, nine, ten, with repe-
tition of the eight and ten, and the total of strokes is sixty-one. If these numbers have any
meaning it must be in reference to the calendar. The short strokes signify the lunar, the long
strokes the solar computation.
According to the division of the circle mentioned above, the solar reckoning must
originally have been based on the time it took for the sun to pass through six stellar groups,
each group corresponding .to an interval of sixty days. Petrie reproduces two examples
proving this [XX, 13, 15]. In each there are six groups of strokes; in one case the effect is
static (exactly as in the arrangement of plants on Badari vessels); in the other there is an effect
of motion toward the right, that is, westward. Just as the Babylonians divided the day into
six mana of sixty imdu each, so the Egyptians divided the year into six times sixty days; the~e­
fore it is no accident that the symbol for Sirius, which had an important association with the
Egyptian annual cycles, is a six-pointed star. This suggests a concrete ground for Plutarch's
statement that in Egypt those who concerned themselves with astronomy regarded the num-
ber sixty as the most important in their system. This earliest division of the zodiac later gave
rise to the six times sixty decans of ten days each, the ten-day solar week being the result of
the combination of the lunar week with the double month. This would prove that as early as
about 4000 B.c. there was a calendar in Egypt, which was, however, ,different from that
used in 2776 B.c.15
In another arrangement, the four angles are so situated within the four quarters of the
circle that th.ey produce as a negative a four-pointed star whose tips coincide with the ends
of the vertical and horizontal diameters. This figure, which suggests the four cardinal points
(winds), is as frequent as all the other star figures taken together. Sometimes it occurs not
once but twice in the same device: in one specimen [XIII, 9], a smaller four-pointed star is
drawn within the negative star form, around a cir cle inclosing two signs for graves, its
points (forces striving outward) touching the inward directed apexes of the four primary
angles. Thus we ,have an implication not only of the opposition of centripetal and centrifugal
forces, in sharpest development, but also of a continuity of energies reaching from the grave
to heaven along various directional lines. The frequency of this figure, as well as its twofold
use in the same device, makes the question of its meaning particularly important.
84
It is possible that the form indicated only the bursting open of the grave in all four
directions-i. e., it stood for the spell that opened the gates of the narrow grave and that even
the living feared. But Seligrnan's study16 suggests a connection with the sed festivities of the
dynastic period. A chief feature of these was the "shooting of arrows toward the cardinal
points," and Seligman interprets this as a rite of "installation of the king," and particularly
as related to "rejuvenation ceremonies." These were meant to prove that the king's magic
powers were not exhausted, despite his long reign, and thus confirmed his rule. According
to Frazer, the king not only had power over nature, but was regarded as the center of the
universe; therefore his strength and health determined the survival and well-being of the
whole community. The condition of the king's vital powers was controlled, and when they
declined through age or illness, he was ceremonially slain in the interest of the community.
Seligman observes justly that previous investigators overemphasized the custom of ceremonial
slaying and neglected the "installation and rejuvenation ceremonies," among which was "dis-
charge by the Pharaoh of arrows toward the four cardinal points." The only indubitable
representation of such a scene that Seligman could reproduce belongs to the twenty-fifth
dynasty (seventh century B.c.), and it is a queen who discharges the arrows. The four cardi-
nal points are represented essentially as in the prehistoric manner, which confirms Seligman's
conjecture that the custom goes back to prehistoric times.
. It is striking that in a predominant number of the prehistoric representations of the
cardinal points we find not the geometric but the crosslined style, which, as we shall see later,
is a feminine style. This might suggest that even during the Amratian period the ceremony
was performed by a woman, probably the princess. Also, since the bow was the totem of a
clan, it may be assumed that the rite was particularly observed by the bow clan.1 7 Further
confirmation is supplied by the occurrence of the bow motif in a device in the crosslined
style (there may be a connection also with the constellation Saggitarius). It is thus conceiv-
able that the benefit of the rite was transferred from the living prince to the dead who had
, been his closest intimates in life, and that the presence of the sign of the cardinal points on the
vessels means that new, youthful strength is being invoked for the dead. Another _step leads to
the Middle Empire custom of sanctifying every dead person by 'actions performed in the
ord~r of the cardinal points (west, east, s~mth, north) and intended as a 111agic protection
against enemies, from whatever direction they might come. The sign may also have been the
starting point of the later Egyptian belief that the number four had a celestial relation- "with
the sun of the sky symbolized by the number four." 18
Each addition of an angle in_the circular arrangement produces a different, new star
form; the number of its points is equal to the number of the angles, which ranges mostly from
five to ten, although larger numbers (eleven, fourteen) occur occasionally . The question
arises whether these different stars have different meanings, and whether these meanings can
be connected with real stars [XIV]. We do not know to what extent the neolithics were
accustomed to represent a constellation by a single star, rather than by a group of star signs.
The question is easily answered as regards the five-pointed star, for it is the only one
that remains in the hieroglyphics. The reason for this is clear: it denoted the morning star.
The hieroglyphists had a cult of the sun and naturally had to ex~erminate the hostile cult of
the stars of the previous ruling class. Their sun ideology could recognize only the star that
rose to herald the sun, and it may be assumed that they retained the star symbol without
85
 changing its form. This hypothesis is supported by the fact that the five-pointed star, in con-
trast to the other stars, is drawn in the crosslined style and was more closely connected with
female than with male rites; this facilitated its being taken over by the new masters of the
dynastic period.
Interpretation of the seven-pointed star is likewise easy, because one exemplar has a dog
drawn within it. Without attempting at this point to answer the question as to how it hap-
pened that the dog was placed within the star, I should like to point out that Canis is a name
not of Greek but·of prehistoric Egyptian origin. This star wa.s later connected with Isis, and
a monument of the Roman period shows Isis with a seven-pointed star and a dog. 19
In view of this it seems natural to identify the six- or eight-pointed star with Orion, since
the later Egyptians identified it with Osiris. "Osiris who returned as Orion," we read in one
of the Pyramid Texts. But this interpretation of the six-pointed star essentially depends upon
whether we accept Plutarch's statement that the Dog Star of the Greeks is the same as the
Egyptian Sothis (Sirius), or that of Diodorus of Sicily, according to which Sirius rises before ·
the sun in the constellation of the Dog. The placing of the dog in the seven-pointed star
eliminates Plutarch's explanation, i. e., that Sothis is Egyptian for xvm ("to gestate"), from
which the Greeks erroneously derived xvwv ("dog"). Because of its important association
with the beginning of the year, Sirius was probably regarded as a separate star. It can also be
shown that the Dog Star owes its name to special historical circumstances that probably
contributed to the differentiation of the Dog Star from Sirius.
Furthermore, the eight-pointed star does not represent Orion-Osiris, at least not if we
are to take literally a monument cited by Borchardt. 20 It pictures a king who points north-
ward to designate the site of a temple he is about to build. The orientation is south-north, and
at the extreme north we see an eight-pointed star. The star regarded as the northernmost was
doubtless in the Little Bear, which we should then have to identify with the eight-pointed star.
There remain for possible identification with Orion the nine- and the ten-pointed star. The
latter seems the more likely choice, because the geometric style favored stars with an even
number of points. However, I have been unable to find a convincing proof. The infrequent
occurrence of stars with eight, nine, or ten points makes it most unlikely that Orion was the
most powerful star god as far back as prehistoric times. This role fell to him probably only
after he became identified with Osiris: the ruler of the beyond naturally had to become the
ruler of the stars. True, if Ideler 21 is right in thinking that the form of Orion was originally
conceived as that of a bull's hide, the six-pointed star could initially have been linked with it,
and only the differentiation of Sirius from the Dog Star owing to the great importance of
the former fo{ agricultural life in Egypt (because of its association with the floods), or the
fact that the Dog Star and Sirius came to be regarded as independent stars for reasons to
· be discussed later, would have le~ to the dissociation of Orion and the six-pointed star form.
So far I have outlined the development of the ornamentation of the Second Culture
pottery in a logical progression from the simple to the>complex, which seems to lead us from
the evidences of a vague belief in immortality to the phenomenon of a cult of the stars. The
existing archaeological material might give the impression that this logical process (deter-
mined only by the scientific method of exposition) parallels the historical course, for in Tasa
the invading tribes, as we meet them there for the first time, seem to have signs only for killing
and giving life, for earth (graves) and heaven. But the archaeological material of the Tasa
86
period is so scant that it would be hasty to assert that the cult of the stars was born on
Egyptian soil. For the time'being I shall put aside the question of the origin of the cult of the
stars, in order to discuss a few complicated ornamental devices that may call our whole inter-
pretation into question.
One group of these devices shows a star (usually eight-pointed) being pierced from
below by a death form '(male) and from above by a life form (female) [XV, 2 ]. In a device
reproduced by De Morgan [XV, r] these two signs are combined, revealing this meaning:
The prince who passes from death to his second life finds his expected place in heaven pre-
empted by a star, and must crush the star. If each star is associated with a given princely
family, the meaning is that the newly arrived dead prince must take his father's place in
heaven and drive him away. This idea may at first seem fantastic, but it is confirmed by
several texts of a later time. We read in the Pyramid Texts:
The sky is being clouded, the stars are raining, the bows a~e movi~g, the bones of.the
earth god are trembling ... when they see him as he appears, ammated like a god who lives
on his fathers and eats of his mothers.
This is exactly the caption for our device; the text signifies that the newcomer in
heaven there too inherits from his parents by absorbing their magic powers, in order to secure
himself against all enemies and in a certain sense against his heirs on earth, should these fail
to provide him with sufficient food. The deceased, robbed and expropriated by his son, begins
his new career by robbing and dispossessing his owQ. father, whereby the conservation of
magic forces is assured. If the form of the sign is reduced to its essential con:ponent:, we
obtain the Greek <I>, which enters into a number of terms closely connected with our mter-
pretation, such as cpayi::'tv ("to eat," "to swallow"), cpaAA.oi; ("phallus"), cpwi; ("light"), cpt'.lctQW
("corrupt," "destroy"), cpvw ("beget"), and cpvA.~ ("clan");
It might be argued that our interpretation presupposes that two stars may never be
present in the same sign, because the dead person could not .be associated with two s~ars, at
least not when social practice had allocated specific stars to given groups. Actually, this con-
dition is fulfilled in all but two instances. One of these occurs in the design of a Nubian
vessel 22 and shows a five-pointed star (its points filled with crossed lines) within a six-pointed
negative star form produced by six angles pointing inward from the periphery; the other
appears in a .relief on a slate palette that does not belong to the Second Culture [IX, 7, 8].
The relief has been described as representing the head of a cow with five-pointed stars on
the horns and ears; the head bears a six-pointed star, centered, "merely to raise it from the rest
of the design and make it stand out from it," 23 i.e., for decoration. In reality we are dealing
with a representation of the upper part of a woman's body: the five-pointed stars are on
her breasts and replace the fingers that would terminate her upraised arms, and the six-pointed
star replaces her head (signifying partial ceremonial dismemberment). According to our
interpretation of the star forms, the meaning of this design is: "May the deceased begin a n~w
life as the morning star begins the new day, Sirius the new year, and the breasts give
life to the newborn" (the dead person himself being conceived as newborn). The two first-
indicated analogies hold also for the Nubian vessel; the third idea is found again in two clay
figures in the Metropolitan Museum of Art that represent women putting their hands under
their breasts ro off er them.
 This interpretation is supported by several Pyramid Texts. One of these reads:
His mother, the living snake, she who is on Re, pities him and gives him her breast
that he may suck it. My son, thou king, take this breast and suck it, thou king.
A later corroboration comes from a tomb text of the Middle Empire:
Osiris [the deceased] is protected by Orion, by Sothis, and by the morning star,
they put thee in the arms of thy mother Nut, they save thee from the assault of the dead,
who walk on their heads. 2 4
Here there are three stars instead of two, and the name of the goddess changes. But our
signs stand at the beginning of a Jong tradition. Such an interpretation seems poetic for
prehistoric times; the meaning may be poetic, because the palette dates from the Third
Culture, when the cult of the stars no longer played any role, and when the old magic mean-
ings had become images and allegories.
On the other hand, this device of a woman with raised arms might explain the figures of
women in like position on the red-decorated Gerzean vessels; these figures have hitherto
been interpreted as those of dancers or mourners. In our interpretation, they gather the
forces of the mother, the day, and the year, and transmit them to the dead man in his
second life as his ka. In fact, the form made by figures thus postured is similar to that of
the hieroglyphic for ka. Thus the way would be paved for a historical discussion of this
important concept in Egyptian religion.
Summing up the content expressed in the geometric style, its meaning in terms of magic
is first of all this: Death, violent or natural, is followed by the giving and receiving of the
second life. Through ceremonial spells of sexual implication inan can -transform dying into
being reborn; in this magic-based sense there is resurrection. The seat of the second life is on
the stars in the heavens, namely, the morning star, Sirius, the Dog Star, the Little Be~r,
Orion, and several others. There is a path for the dead leading to the stars, and the deceased
can take this path, because the narrow grave can be opened, and he can take egress from it in
any of the four directions. This going out is the beginning of rejuvenation; at the end of the
process, i. e., when he reaches heaven, the dead man finds his place occupied by his_father,
but he has been provided with the power to consume his father, that is, his father's magic
attributes, and to take his place. Thus we are dealing with a s~ellar cult of the dead, certain
elements of which (like rejuvenation) perhaps pertain even to the first life.
The existence of such a cult in predynastic times has long ago been inferred from certain
ancient Pyramid Texts. Prehistoric archaeology confirms this assumption of the Egyptolo-
gists in so far as the latter refrain from any interpretation. But the inference of certain 'writers
•
on the history of religion, such as Kees,25 that the cult of the stars was rooted in folklore, is
an e~ror that, as I shall show, obscures essential understanding of the whole epoch. The cult
of the stars was the cult of the dead maintained by a small ruling class, and the cult of the
dead -that represented the stars in abstract geometri~ forms was only a part of the cult of
the stars that prevailed in this epoch~ as we shall see in the section following. But first we must
answer a number of questions: Why is this stellar cult of the dead artistically represented in
a geometric style? W hy did the paleolithics cast spells largely by realistic and naturalistic
methods, and the neolithics by means of abstract geometric signs? Why did the former
use the hand as the basis of their form ideas, in a development that ended in natural likenesses,
88
while the latter used the fingers to abstract from them geometric figures that have reality
solely in man's intellect?
Hoernes' answer to these questions is well known: 26 it is based on the fact that the
paleolithics were hunters, while the neolithics were herdsmen. But this scientist, who at-
tempted ·to overcome the latter-day disregard for causal explanations, fell victim to a one-
sided, mechanical, obsolete materialism. Neither the herdsman nor the peas~nt condition can
account for all ~he features of the neolithic geometric style, which Hoernes, like all other
archaeologists, failed to analyze adequately. These features are: synthesis, reflecting the will
to create a visual unity out of a multiplicity of elements; simplicity, indicating the will to
build complex structures from a few elements; formal necessity, deriving from the will both
to represent and to conceal content in an adequate sign; detachment, arising from the will
of the artist to raise himself above all content of the inner and outer worlds, the sensual
emotions as well as the physical objects; definitiveness, bespeaking the will to embody eternal
contrasts in self-evident form; energy, expressing the will to master by magic that which
transcends man's physical powers, even life itself; and, finally, connection of content and
meaning with two worlds, those of life and of death.
In contrast to the symbol, the allegory, etc., the devices of the geometric style pre-
suppose a really perceivable identity, ascertainable both by the eye and by human reason,
between the sign and its meaning. However, this identity can be felt only by persons of
identical experience, that is, individuals who have achieved such detachment from the sensual
emotions to which they are subjected by the compulsions of existence that they can, by
intellectual activity, create a world of their own, in accordance with logical rules, even a
world after death, a world of second life. These logical rules begin with a principle of
identity similar to that of Aristotle: a is equal to itself _and to the ideas subsumed under
it. Two further principles are: ( 1) any a can be expanded to a series- a, a', a", a'", etc.-
without being thereby changed (axiom of cumulation) ; (2) between a and a' there is always
non-a (axiom of the negative). 27 Neither an individual nor a community of equals need be
bound by extraneous rules of rational thinking; invention and acceptance of rules presuppose
a definite mode of life and social organization.
Just as the paleolithics, in addition to using realistic representations of animals, knew
signs (differing in their early and later periods, and differing also in their small plastic objects
and wall paintings) , so the Egyptian neolithics, even within the limited time span of the
Second Culture, knew not only an abstract geometric but also a vitalistic-naturalistic and a
syncretistic style. This is understand~ble even from Hoernes' materialistic-economic stand-
point, for in the Amratian period there were not only herdsmen, but also peasants, hunters,
warriors, craftsmen, and traders. Thus the geometric style reflects not a simple mode of pro-
duction, but a con~tantly changing relation between five or six modes of production obliged
to exist beside one another, none of which by itself could suffice to preserve and reproduce the
life of society as a whole. On this complex material basis, a purely geometric style could be
developed only by a social group that-because of either its occupation or its position-had
attained the greatest possible detachment from material production.
Here we reach the decisive point: the occupational differences 'Yere social differences.
The ornamented pottery indisputably reveals its ostentational function in relation to the
living and the dead; but the will to display is inherent in a ruling group (or any group
89
 dependent upon and claiming equality with the latter). The ruling group here may have
derived its income chiefly from the occupational fields of cattle breeding and agriculture;
but in a society with so many occupations, in part hostile to one another, this group had to
take the other occupations into account. A contributing cause in the evolution of a magic
of geometric signs was, then, the existence of a ruling class, a nonproductive group living
on the production of others, which, because it did no manual work and had a complex rela-
tion to the various existing occupations, achieved a certain separation from and therefore an
abstracted relation to workaday life. ·
The changes in the magic of dismemberment and distribution observable in the Mag-
dalenian murals also show that the development of geometric signs paralleled increasing social
stratification. But the paleolithic magicians were still connected with social production by
reason of their function in the practice of magic, even though their physical participation
consistently diminished. The paleolithic signs were created partly because the magician, as
his detachment from working society increased, felt the need for a higher kind of conscious-
ness in his art (e.g., in order to indicate in his compositions the operation of cause and effect)
and sought to meet this need by varying the perspectives in which he placed his animal forms.
In trying to complement the profile with the full-face view, he was impeded by his fear of
the evil potency of the animal's eye, and so was constrained to present the facial view by
means of a geometric sign. But in neolithic times spells against animals were no longer em-
. ployed in the interest of society as a whole; only a small part of the community used them,
for the purpose of dominating the cosmic forces on behalf of and ultimately at the expense
of the rest of society. Thus magic means became inadequate for achieving the desired goal,
namely, the harmonious interplay between natural forces and human labor for the purpose of
assuring rich yields.
The paleolithic magician, however far removed he may have been from actual procu~­
ing of his livelihood through hunting, could be sure that the human forces of the community
would suffice for slaying the animal subjected to his spells. The neolithic magician was the
first to be confronted with the basic insufficiency of social forces for effectuating the purpose
to which the spell applied. Human labor could not compel the general cosmic forces and the
forces of the soil to operate; it could only promote their action by operating with them at
the right. time. Therefore direct imitation of natural forces as a means of magic was of no
avail to the magician, for the objects of his spells could neither see nor hear his incantations:
instead of influencing living creatures, he had to contend with impersonal, unknown forces.
These could not be reached by the spell directly; they could be affected only indirectly,
i. e., through s_igns, in the belief that if the natural forces did not see they at least understood
these. As magic could no longer act directly on its object, the artist could not be expected
to reproduce a world that he and his whole society found unintelligible; he could produce
only signs originating outside of this world and more powerful than its forces. The path to
this transcendence led by way of mathematics. The) human intellect created a new magic
of geometric signs to coerce reality, with a quasi-religious faith that mathematics would be
adequate to bridging the gap between the classes and between the means and the ends of
magic. The history of neolithic Egyptian ceramics records the failure of this attempt.
Thus we see that the geometric style was rooted not solely in the concrete activities of
the herdsman and the cultivator but in a complex of causes. All of them are related to the
90
fact that a social group became alienated from real production and erected this isolation into
an absolute for the purpose of adjusting, by means of domination, the antagonisms between
various peoples, traditions, and social strata and prerogatives, and between inadequate social
forces and nature. 'The new cult of the <lead reflects this process exactly. The excavations
of Merimda reveal that the dead as such remained part of the life of the family and furthered
its work through beneficent magic and through their very presence. In T asa we have the
beginning of the practice of isolating the dead from the living and of the transformation of
death into a second life. Thus magic assumed a new task, based on the nature of homo fa ber
but liberating him from all limitations-the task of making the nonexistent existent through
purely spiritual activities. Nonreal being was opposed to the reality of existence: the dead
transcended the actual world by entering another,·and there arose the problem of bridging
by an intellectual device the gap between the two-a gap that clearly reflected the cleavage
between the races, the occupations, the social groups, and the natural and social forces of
actuality.
This device was the use of mathematics as the basis of an artistic style, with the con-
comitant special development of the function of the negative form. T he attempt was new
and grandiose; springing from de"ep ro?ts in human nature, it recurred in ever new variations
whenever a people, a class, or a craft detached itself from the conditions of its time. But it
wa·s of no avail. The goods produced by the various occupational groups were still too much
on a level and too scant, and magic was too weak a means, as against natural forces, the social
claims of the various races and classes, and particularly the ideological desire for a second
life, to enable any ruling group to subsist in detachment for a long time. Only as one of many
elements of a syncretistic style did the geometric style or its components have a chance of
enduring throughout the Amratian period.
T he Crotchet Style
[XVI, XVII] .
The variety and inner -differentiation of the neolithic world are revealed in the diverse
styles of pottery ornamentation of the Second Culture. Since both the design elements and the
principle of ornamentation changed several times over, it must be inf erred that the various
styles rested upon varying social and ideological foundations, and that their juxtaposition is
evidence of struggles whose history we may be able to reconstruct with their help.
I refer to the style employing crotchets [XVI, XVII] as contrasted to straight lines,
angles, points, and rigid regularity-i. ,e., to geometric motifs. The crotchets sometimes ap-
pear in isolation, opening upward or downward ( v or n); usually, however, they appear
in connected sequences of limited numbers of crotchets running vertically, obliquely, or
horizontally, and repeated one above or beside the other. In such sequences, the most curved
crotchets are usually in the center, and the upstrokes are often considerably weaker than the
downstrokes. W hile occasionally the groups of undulating lines have no external frame, they
usually appear within outlines drawn in single firm strokes and contrasting with the
cumulated parallel undulating lines, whose number always exceeds that of the crotchets
thertlselves even in the longest single line.
91
 As we found in the case of angles, the single crotchet (or crotchet sequence) may have
a definite meaning. In its isolated form it is reminiscent of the lunar crescent; the sequences
so sfrongly suggest water that one thinks involuntarily of Thales' theory that water is the
beginning of all things. Whether we are actually dealing here with an ancient cult of the
moon and water must remain an open question; it is certain, however, that the association is
,, with a material element, not with an abstraction. The realism of this style derives from real
maqer with a real existence, not from man's intellect. As the pure geometric style always
points through form to a corresponding concrete phenomenon, so the crotchet style points
through the specifically concrete to the general- to the concrete phenomenon of life and its
activity enhanced to the level of highest vitality. This stylistic will manifests itself in the
character of the line, which bends and ripples and is given force by use of a heavier stroke
contrasted or even alternating with the hair stroke. It is a swelling and contraction, a dynamic
stroke, intended to express the life, the movement, the will of the object represented, whether
it be a plant or an animal, an upright or a pronated creature.
The geometric style expresses relations; it is confined to abstract structures representing
such relations, in which the supreme contrast is that between life and death. The crotchet
denotes not relations but things; its function is not intimation of any fortuitous object nor yet
of any abstraction, but expression of the unfolding, active, vital force of the thing, perceived
and enhanced through the artist's primary voluntarism, i.e., -the belief that man's magic
powers can enlarge the powers of certain natural entities, just as the latter can enlarge man's
powers. In the geometric style, will is absorbed by the intellect; it is the dynamic aspect of
mathematical reason. In the crot_chet style, intellect and senses are subordinated to will; the
purpose is to project the stream of life, to enhance the vitality of the form. The universal
elan vital, conceived as the soul of reality, is always connected ·w ith concrete intentions in
the drawings, which represent the hard shell or the hide of an animal, the craning of a nee!<:,
the steering motion of a tail, the solidity of a lower jaw. One feels the artist's joy in wresting
~rom natura naturans a sufficiently specific natura naturata and in simultaneously illumining,
through the particular, the universal and total vital force, intensified to the utmost. He feels
himself a creator of life in two ways: he gives specificity to the flow of life and exuberant
energy to specific life.
Another essential characteristic of this style is the sharp separation of outline and filling.
The outline runs in a continuous straight stroke. The lines inside the outline have many turn-
ing points; they are wavelike and cumulated. Such a duality must have its roots both in the
psyche -and in social existence-in a desire to expel inertia from the mind in order not to have
to accept it in, the outer world. A duality inherent in the relation of individual and tribe, of
leadership and populace, is presupposed here, and it is a duality so pronounced as to suggest
that it was grounded in the immanent antagonisms of society, heightened to the point of
conflict.
In its religious aspect, this vital animism requires dhigh degree of empathy, an idel}tifica-
tion of human forces with animal forces, although its purpose is only the mastering of the
animal· by magic. The clan unity and totemism seem threatened from within by forces of
explosive strength and to be held together only by a concentrated will to power. Hence the
style is based not on object imitation but on a principle of rhythmic structure expressing a
universal vitality that goes far beyond the specific object. The means employed are: relation
92
of the curve to an assumed axis, which insures a high degree of tension; increase and decrease
of intervals between parallel strokes; swelling of the stroke at intervals and, conversely,
decrease of stress; free modification of the relative sizes of animals and plants; and an alterna-
tion of symmetry and asymmetry that is rich in contrasts. But the play between painted and
unpainted surface is voided; the pictured object spreads over the entire surface, which is only
one factor among the forces that form the object, not something independent. W e are
dealing here not with a horror vacui, perhaps not even with a dynamism of the object that
dominates the vacuum, but probably with the vitality of a comprehensive medium as trans-
ferred to the object. The nonvital has no independent being; it is filled with the radiations of
vital things, if not with the very eleII1ents of their vitality. In other words, nonliving vacuity is
only a stimulus for vitality. The ecriture vitale of the crotchets reflects rhythmically flowing
matter whose motion strives toward geometric formulation. The relation between life and
law is here determined by the flow of life.
Turning from the formal aspect of the style to its objects, we find plants and animals.
The number of each is strikingly limited. The plants appear to be floating on the surface of
water; the purslane (Peptis portula), identified as such by Petrie, was known as a food and
herb, and figured in later mythology as an ingredient of the rouge made by Thespis. Some of
the animals are amphibious (the crocodile is always drawn in the crotchet style, the hippo-
potamus only occasionally); some are purely land animals, such as the desert sheep and the
African goat (which is not unlike a giraffe). Why do only these animals occur in the
crotchet style? What is their iconographic significance?
If we try to answer this question in regard to each animal individually, we flounder in
a sea of fables or alleged observations of nature that come partly from Egyptian and partly
from Greco-Roman antiquity. Any attempt at a solution must start from the fact that certain
animals (and signs) are repeatedly found together; this is above all true as regards the croco-
dile and the hippopotamus. The most complete representation of these animals occurs on a
vessel reproduced in illustration by De Morgan, which, it is true, belongs stylistically to a
late period of the Amratian culture [XVII, 1]. The scene depicts a boat provided with oars,
a hippopotamus under pursuit (or shackled by a chain), crocodiles, scorpions, dogs, fishes,
turtles, birds, and includes the tripartite cosmogonic sign that appears also on the painted clay
box of El-Amrah (p. 8 1). On the latter too we find, along with the cosmogonic sign, a
crocodile, a boat, a hippopotamus, and a long-necked animal or bird (possibly a giraffe).
On a vessel illustrated by Petrie [XVI, 3] there are hippopotamuses, a crocodile, and a
palisade-like structure that may be a boat.
The first question arising here is: What have the crocodile and hippopotamus in
common that leads to representation of them together on a clay vessel made for the use of
the dead? Both animals are strong and dangerous-the hippopotamus could destroy entire
crops by rolling his body over the fields-and both are amphibious. T herefore both are able
to find their food with special ease, and this made them suitable as gifts, i. e., magic aids for
the dead, who were believed to be always beset by fear of hunger and thirst. The powers of
the animals were supposed to be transferred to the dead, whose material needs were thus
magically provided for. This explanation is also valid as concerns the scorpion, whose poison
is dangerous and whose young devour their father and sisters and even their mother- a fact
strikingly assoc_iable with the belief that the dead, on arriving in heaven, ate their progenitors~
93
,
The desert sheep could find its food, according to the season, on the highest mountains or in
the valleys, and the long-necked goat could feed on the foliage of tall trees when there was no
grass. The purslane mentioned above was edible.
The fact that all the animals used had a common significance does not preclude their
having individual functions also. It was believed that the crocodile could reach a very ad'"
vanced age and that sometimes it did not die even after its' heart was removed; this beast was
particularly suitable for se~uring a long second life-and the Book of the Dead relates that
the dead crossed the celestial ocean as crocodiles. Moreover, the crocodile, which could crawl
out of the river onto the shore and thus change its mode of being, gave the dead man a magic
guarantee that his soul could assume any shape he wished, as is stated in the Book of the Dead.
It is also easy to find specific meanings·for the hippopotamus: it was believed that, like the
scorpion, it killed its. father and copulated with its mother-certainly a propensity desirable
for transfer to a dead man who "lives on his fathers and eats of his mothers." The sign of the
hippopGtamus was also supposed to insure t~e dead person's rebirth, and later the goddess
Thoeris, patron deity of pregnant women, was depicted as a pregnant hippopotamus walk-
ing upright on its hind legs: apparently this beast, propitiated after being made harmless
(captured or killed), changed from a wrecker of the fields cultivated by women into a pro-
tector of women.
We are confronted here with an extremely revealing feature of prehistoric thinking. The
animals given to rhe dead were of the ~pecies· that offered the greatest resistance to man and
constituted the greatest danger to his life; their powers, mastered by magic, were supposed to
facilitate the second life of the dead or to enable them, enriched by such animal strength, to
give greater help to the survivors. For this very reason, the degree of power represented in
the idea of these animals is magnified by the style, which expresses life itself. Man, having
mastered the most dang~rous and treacherous natural forces, was certain that they were at
his disposal both in life and in dear~, and out of admiration for the animals and himself he
enhanced the measure of the power possessed by the creature he had defeat~d. But this posi-
tive and therefore history-creating attitude toward life still does not offer us any clue as to
the course of the history. Were the differentiated meanings the earlier ones and were they
followed by the composite meanings, or vice versa? Or was the fusion of the special meanings
into a single meaning followed in turn by a breakdown into new, separate meanings? The
latter process is strongly suggested by the circumstance that in historical times the crocodile
and the hippopotamus had double significances: they were hated and worshiped, they were
helpful and harmful. 28 This double function could naturally be only the result of a change of
.
meaning that must have taken place in prehistoric times. Do the ornamental devices help
us to discover this change of meanings?
-
_
Our assumption that the crocodile, hippopotamus, scorpion, desert sheep, and goat served
for spells to procure food for the dead is far from supplying a solution of all the problems.
Several times we find the crocodile appearing togethh with a boat, and the hippopotamus
often occurs with fishes. The Book of the Dead contains this riddle: "Why are the fishes with
Sobk?" (Sobk was a crocodile-headed deity.) And there is an obviously late and complicated
explail.ation of this combination, which even at the time of the writing was not understood-
that Sobk (the crocodile) had fished Horus out of the swamp. Let us try to answer the riddle
of the Book of the Dead. What is the meaning of fishes appearing with the crocodile or with
94
the hippopotamus? And what is the meaning of a boat shown with the crocodile? Our answer
is that the boat, fishes, crocodile, and hippopotamus all stand for constellations.
Before we attempt to identify these constellations, it must be proven that the principle
of such an interpretation is correct. It is known that in historical times a hippopotamus stand-,·
ing upright and carrying a crocodile on its head represented a constellation in the northern
sky. No proof is requited that such a combination is a late product (like the mythical croco-
dile-lion-hippopotamus that accompanies Osiris as judge of the dead) and cannot be trans-
ferred to prehistory in the given form. Even in historical times the names of the constellations
changed, as can be seen by a comparison of the celestial maps of the Rameseum and of
Denderah.
The textual evidence is all the more valuable. In the old hieroglyphic. writing a hippo-
potamus emerging from water stands for "a moment," which permits the inference that even
earlier than the period of the writing the hippopotamus was connected with time compu-
tation. This is no doubt confirmed by the remark of Horapollon: "I:rcn:oi; n:otciµwi; ygmp6µ£voi;
rogai; briAoi:. 29 The corrections of the philologists concerning rogai; ("spring" ) and &gciv
("decay") are superfluous if it is granted that the hippopotamus represents a constellation
(not situated near the Bear, as has been erroneously assumed). Similarly, Clement of Alex-
andria reports that the crocodile was a time symbol. This is confirmed by Plutarch and Aelian,
both of whom stress the close connection of this animal with the number sixty, which had
special significance in the calendar of prehistoric Egypt .(p. 84). The association probably de-
rived from the knowledge that the crocodile always lays its eggs in a spot that will not be
reached by the Nile floods. We know from the decan lists that boat and fish forms stood for
constellations. Thus we must conclude that besides the stars and constellations designated by
negative devices in the abstract representations (the mon;ing star, Sirius, the Dog, the Little
Bear, Orion, etc.), other star groups were identified with natural ob jects and particularly
with animals. Which stars or constellations were these? What were the reasons for such a
bipartite system of stellar symbols?
In attempting to answer the first question, it is best to start from the frequent combina-
tion of hippopotamus, crocodile, and· fishes. It may be assumed that the designation "fishes"
referred to the same constellation to which it applies today; it follows that the hippopotamus
was identical with our Pegasus and the crocodile with Delphinus. Although the hippopota-
mus is related norto the horse but to the hog, the Greeks gave it this name of "river horse";
accustomed to seeing Pegasus as a winged horse, they presumably imagined that the Egyptian
name for this constellation also designated a horse. My conjecture as to the meaning of the
crocodile is based on the fact that in most of the devices in which a hippopotamus and a
crocodile appear ~ogether, the two animals meet head to head, i. e., they face (or move) in
opposite directions; this is also the positional relation of Pegasus and Delphinus.
In order to discover the social basis of this star-animal cult, we must examine more closely
the method of representing the animals, particularly the hippopotamus. Two hunting scenes
have been found in El-Mahasna. In the first [XXIV, 6], two animals pace toward each other,
and harpoons are directed at one of them. The whole scene would be strongly reminiscent
of a hunting spell in Franco-Cantabrian cave painting, were it not for the presence of the
doubled sign of death ( M ) and the figures of two men with arms upraised; one animal is
apparently designated as dead, and the men seem to be celebrating their hunters' luck. The
95
,
 second scene [XVII, 4], painted a little above a base-line representing the earth, shows two
animals turned away from each other. Each is connected with a chain, at the free end of
which is a ball; the other end, shown as entering the animal's body, supplies the suggestion
that a harpoon has been thrust home. On one side of the picture is a man with flowing hair,
on the other a triple sign of life. Animals similarly connected with chains can be seen on a
pot found in Mostagedda, on which harpoons are shown coming from opposite directions
along the same horizontal; they are accompanied by stars with five, six (used three times),
eight, and nine poi_nts ..Here the two methods of representing constellations meet.
In the Metropolitan Museum of Art there is a vessel on which a similarly fettered animal
is represented together with a man, and it has been suggested that what is depicted is not
the fettering but the feeding of an animal.3° The fact that hippopotamuses were not always
killed but sometimes kept in captivity can be seen from a vessel illustrated by Quibell31
[XVII, 5] : here the animals are obviously in a cage and feeding on plants. -This conclusion
can be drawn also from a scene showing four hippopotamuses walking leftward in a circle
[XVII, 2, 3]; this device figures on two vessels illustrated by Petrie. If movement to the left
nullifies magic power (p. 108), these animals must be regarded as captive, i.e., made harmiess
physically and with respect to magic potency. As regards a hunting scene reproduced by
De Morgan [XVII, 1 ], the question is whether it represents a hunt on earth: the ship, which
is provided with oars, has no people in it-as is the case later with all .ships of the dead-and
the quasi-syncretistic agglomeration of all sorts of animals suggests that we are dealing rather
with a magic wish iptended to enable the dead to hunt in heaven.
It must be kept in mind that the prehistoric technique of hippopotamus hunting cor-
responds exactly with that illustrated in the picture in Edfu dating from historical times,
and with that described by Diodorus. The hunters moved toward the animal, surrounded it,
and hurled their iron-barbed spears with ropes attached, by which the spears were pulled 9ut
after the animal was exhausted from bleeding. It is thus indisputable that the people who
identified the hippopotamus with a constellation were hunters-hunting less from need than
for pleasure-who wanted to enjoy the same pleasure in their afterlife; their hunting was not
a means of procuring subsistence but the privilege of a ruling group. The capture of the
animal, which was perhaps used for special purposes related to the cult of the dead, implied
an attempt to tame it, i. e., a combination of hunting and cattle-breeding customs. The
extent to which the contrasting spheres of the hunter and the herdsman became analogous
in the course of time, is most clearly shown in a picture on another vessel illustrated by
De Morgan [XVIII, 1 o]. In this scene two hippopotamuses face leftward, with life and death
signs wedgeQ. between them. Here we have a complete analogy to the sign in which similar
angles are thrust into a six- or eight-pointed star (p. 87) ~ The latter device signifies the
dead man's appropriation of the magic powers of his parents. The iconographic analogy is
reinforced stylistically: the two animals in the present instance are not drawn in the crotchet
style. The independence of outline and filling is fetained, but here the filling consists of
cumulated angles, signs of life. The same treatment is found in one of the two hippopotamus
forms in a scene from El-Mahasna.
However, these are only the beginnings of an assimilation the end of which we shall
analyze in discussing the syncretistic style. For the time being the only important point is
our conclusion that the hippopotamus stands for a constellation. Then the question arises
96
whether the chain has an astronomical significance along with the literal significance relating
to a_ctual hunting. For in ·the skies, directly below the constellation Pegasus (the hippo-
potamus) is that of Andromeda, seen as a fettered woman. Possibly the prehistoric Egyptians
had not yet separated these two constellations, and the old hunting practice of fettering was
first transferred to the celestial hippopotamus and later remained an attribute of the con-
stellation now differentiated as Andromeda.
The assumption that the hippopotamus stands for a constellation _may also explain the
fairly frequent sign representing a hippopotamus or a hippopotamus and a crocodile to-
gether with a plant. The arrangement in this sign varies. Most revealing is a device on a
vessel found in El-Mahasna [XVIII, 1] by Ayrton and Loat, which shows two animals turn-
ing their rumps to each other; one half of the scene is flanked, on the rounded portion of the
surface near the rim, by four angles that might be conceived as part of a ten-pointed star,
the other half by a curved plant; the presence of a life and death sign ( w or M ) leaves no
doubt that the whole motif represents a resurrection spell, so that the plant too must be in-
terpreted as standing for a celestial body. On another vessel found by these archaeologists at
the same site, the plant is placed between the two animals, and the filling inside the crocodile
form consists of angles.
More interesting is a vessel from El-Amrah illustrated by Maciver [XVIII, 5]; the photo-
graph shows two angles at the right and two at the left, oriented toward the center. Between
these are formed two angles directed outward, as though indicating two of the cardinal
points. Above them is a hippopotamus; below them are plants. ldeler points to an Arab
tradition by which the constellation V irgo was once called the "ear of corn"; on the round
celestial map of Dendcrah, Virgo is represented as a woman holding an ear of corn in her
hand. If the car of corn is what is meant by the plant, we have the hippopotamus and the
car of corn (Pegasus and Virgo) opposite each other in the northern and southern skies, and
the angles would have to be taken as literally referring to two cardinal points. Moreover, the
car of corn as a constellation would prove that woman and agriculture had penetrated the
cult of the dead. The name Virgo would then be rooted in this prehistoric tradition.
This hypothesis is made more plausible by the following facts. The ear of corn was
not the only constellation that was most generally conceived as female; there were also
Saggitarius and the morning star. Incidentally, the convention by which the latter was rep-
resented as five fingers of a hand, as we have found it on the relief of a slate palette, was also
used by the Arabs, who represented Cassiopea as a flat hand with spread fingers. Further,
the Arab representation of Andromeda as fettered may not have been taken from the Greeks
but may be connected with the Egyptian conception of Pegasus as the fettered hippopotamus.
I do not know how the Arabs may have come into contact with this tradition.
The foregoing discussion may have clarified the riddle posed in the Book of the Dead
as to why the crocodile (Sobk) is connected with fishes. Another question is raised by the
prehistoric devices themselves: What is the connection between the crocodile and the boat?
That the boat stands for a constellation is proven by the decan lists and by the drawing
(occurring only once) of a boat seen from above [XV I, 6]. At one extremity of the boat
there appears a quasi-human figure, at the other a scorpion and an elephant. The figure
represents the ferryman (Canopus) , who plays a great role in the later Egyptian cult of the
dead; unfortunately it is impossible to see in the reproduction whether his head is turned
97
,
back (in accordance with descriptions found in the texts of later times). Both Scorpio and
Argo (the Ship) are situated in the Milky Way; here the distance between them is voided
and the two are juxtaposed. If the reason for this was not a political alliance between two
clans, it may be assumed that the later interpretation, in which only the middle of the
ship stood for the constellation Argo, applied also in prehistoric times. · ,
The elephant was obviously chosen to designate a constellation because of the number
of its members; for while other animals used in the ornamentation of the Amratian period
are drawn in such a way that their legs appear merely as two groups of extremities, the six
members of the elephant are indicated with intentional distinctness. Libra, neighbor to
Scorpio, is referred to in one ancient tradition as the "scissors"; the prehistoric Egyptians
identified it with the elephant. . of the dead in order to legitimize their claim to domination? This latter conjecture would
Thus the single sign of the boat represents the whole stretch of the sky along the Milky
Way from Canopus to Libra. Is this the implication of the band across the right half of the
boat, foreshadowing the later idea of the "winding lake"? The choice of Argo (the Ship)
as a picture of the meeting of several constellations (clans) accords with the fact that clay
boats have been found in graves. Thus even in the stellar cult of the dead, long before the
ship of the sun god appeared in Egyptian mythology, the boat had a special significance. The
only remaining problematic point is the combination of a southern constellation (Argo, the
Ship) with a northern (Delphinus, the crocodile); the two hemispheres are also merged in
the juxtaposition of the hippopotamus and the ear of corn. The reason for this was probably
not astronomical but social and political. 'fhis brings us to the question as to why certain _
constellations were represented by animals, others by geometric signs.
Beginning with the hippopotamus, we note that modern scholars no longer translate
the term medenu- denoting servant ·of Horus- as "smith" (metal worker), but rather as
"hunter of hippopotamus." The latter interpretation is based on a chapter of political his-
tory represented in the temple of Edfu (i.e., dating from a late-dynastic period) with textual
amplification.32 The reliefs show Horus facing a hippopotamus; this animal (as we know
from Plutarch and as is confirmed in Edfu) was one of the forms of Set, brother of Osiris.
According to the accompanying text, Set dominated almost the whole of Egypt up to the
delta when Horchutti, who had been exiled from Egypt, reigned in Nubia; but in the three
hundred and sixty-third year of the latter's reign his son Horhut- the Horus of Edfu- re-
solved to reconquer Egypt. After the victory of Horus, Set's body was dismembered, and
upon the advice of Isis the pieces were distributed to several Egyptian cities and to the servants
of Horus. Horus, it is evident, was supported by a coalition. But Set, the hippopotamus, had
at least one aUy: the text accompanying the thirteenth scene states. explicitly that Horus
fought also against the crocodile.
Naville is right in attributing a historical core to this legend, but his reconstruction is
inad~issible. Hqwever, I agree with him in ·assuming rJiat a group of tribes or princes around
Horus fought against other tribes that earlier were represented as the hippopotamus and the
crocodile and later were identified with the god-king, Set, probably because they were his
most powerful subjects. This struggle could not have taken place in the Amratian period,
because at that time both the immigrants -and the natives had a cult of the stars, while Horus
and his people are connected with the cult of the sun. Moreover, according to Manetho and
98
Eusebius, Set belongs to the first dyn~sty of the gods, i. e., to the protodynastic period. The
same combination of animals occurs as early as the time of the beaker folk invasion.
It may be inferred therefore that the hippopotamus and the crocodile were the totems
of two prehistoric clans that violently resisted all invaders and gathered other clans about
them. Hence arise two questions of the greatest importance for the understanding of Egyp-
tian prehistory and history. Were the invading beaker folk identical with the partisans of
Osiris, if not with the followers of Horus, so that the myth of Osiris and Horus condenses
two different phases of political prehistory? And did the original totemistic clan organization
still subsist at the time of the beaker folk invasion, or had it been replaced by the rule of
princes-these taking over the old totemic animals and making them part- of the family cult
fit in with our attempt to interpret the animal forms as magic instruments for the procurement
of food for the dead. Archaeology does not supply us with any certain clue for identifying
the beaker folk with the partisans of Osiris; but if Osiris had been their prince, he would not
have had any divine function. For despite the high development of the cult of the dead among
the beaker folk, there is not the slightest trace of a cult of the gods; if such a cult existed, it
had no relation to the cult of the dead, and this is as improbable as Mainage's idea that the
cult of the dead presupposes the gods.
Because we have no certain knowledge of the social organization of Upper Egypt in
the period between the stage of the totemic clan and that of the princeship, it is impossible
to s·ay whether all the animals,. plants, and objects represented in the crotchet style were really
totems. About some of them, however, there can be no doubt. Besides the hippopotamus,
later called "the enemy of all provinces," 33 this group includes the crocodile, which is occa-
sionally said to be hostile to the hippopotamus-as is usual among companions-in-arms- the
elephant, which occurs on the so-called standards in the Gerzean civilizati?n as the animal of
the Elephantine nome, and the scorpion; according to Loret, the scorpion clan was originally
an ally of Set and later fought on the side of Horus.
Our attempt to interpret some devices on Amratian pottery as pointing to the existence
of an early totemic clan organization in Upper Egypt seems to tally with Loret's theory,
which archaeology has rejected.34 But Loret's error lay not so much in his theory as in his
method of proof. He confined himself to later, protodynastic material, which shows only
the end of the development; he did not distinguish between the totemic animals of settled
clans and the emblems of nomadic tribes; finally, he tried to derive the phenomenon of the
cult of the gods directly from that of the cult of animals as emblems of group unity. My
own thesis can be summed up as follows: ·
1. In prehistoric Egypt- probably before the Amratian period-there was a type of
social organization whose unity was represented by a nonhuman totem, usually an animal.
The totemistic organization protected the weak members of a clan against the strong; the
former transferred the powers of the strongest and most dangerous animals to themselves by
means of magic, set up these animals as embodiments of the clan unity and as magic ancestors
of all the members of the group. The purpose of the clan organization was to prevent the rule
of man over man, and it was secured by a rigid ceremonial based on the principle of con-
servation of magic forces. The strong individuals defeated by the clan community were
99
propitiated and thus made harmless not only physically but also with regard to magic func-
tions. The totemic animal, though it commanded the full respect of the clan, was not an
object of religious worship. The economic prerequisite of such a social organization was
nomadic or seminomadic hunting life; its ideological prerequisite was magic, in which scien-
tific observation and social action were mingled with religious elements.
2. As the tribes settled, the clan organization began to disintegrate. A man took the
place of the totem animal, because the community, locally scattered, plying differentiated
crafts, and increasingly dependent upon cosmic forces, needed a common magician. The
totem animal now acquired a new function: it guaranteed the legitimacy of the totem man
and after his ceremonial death provided the magic means for securing or facilitating his
second life. The replacement of the animal totem by a human totem as a result of the vesting
of the community's magic forces in one individual made.it necessary for the group to protect
itself against abuses of power and against decline of the strength of the man totem. This aim
was achieved by killing the human totem. With this the cult of the dead took a new turn,
which I have described as marking the difference between Merimda and T asa. In Upper
Egypt, this stage of social development must have preceded the Amratian period.
3. While the settlers progressed from the magic of totemism to the magic of the cult of
the dead, the nomads followed a course of development of their own. As the hunting mode
of procuring food was replaced by cattle breeding or by war and raids upon the settlements,
the clan unity of the nomads likewise dissolved; members of different ~lans seeking domina-
tion joined together under chieftains who, in line with the traditional clan practice, used
animals as emblems of the new groups. These chieftain emblems, bearing representations of
animals of species altogether different from those of the original totem animals-usually, for
readily understandable reasons, they were birds-also had a quite different function: they
served to identify the organization, they were rallying ensigns and called for obedience and
submission. The emblematic animal, like the totem, was at first not religiously worshiped.
The nomadic warriors had developed a cult of the dead based on the idea of a life after death
in which animals played no part. Since they. had no fixed home on earth, the second life was
localized in ~ home in the heavens. The beaker folk and the later Horus people belong to
this category.
4. When these nomads clashed with the settlers, the exigencies of struggle and domina-
tion at first kept them separate; later the nomadic chieftains and the totem men of several
clans united in order to exploit larger areas of land in common. This process is revealed in
the Amratian ornamentation. On the one hand, the old, vague cult of heaven and rebirth
developed into a cult of the stars that later included animals; on the other, the animals that
had earlier symbolized the clan unity and later magically secured the second existence of the
totem men, were identified with stars and constellations. In addition, a number of other ani-
mals endowed with magic significance (such as the birds represented on combs, slate palettes,
etc.) were introduced into the cult of the dead, whis}l now affirmed the identity of the dead
with the stars. The totem was now definitely replaced by the amulet of the dead, and ani-
mals of species that had never had the function of totems also appear on amulets. There can
still be no question of a cult of animals, even though certain domestic animals were sometimes
ceremonially killed and buried.
5. In this whole period of mutual assimilation between nomads and settlers, which
100
resulted in the unification of increasingly greater territories in Upper Egypt, not the slightest
vestige of a cult of the gods can be found. However, a!J the factors that made magic ineffec-
tive and increased the power of the princes accumulated during that time. The conflict
between magic means and princely ends grew increasingly sharper, and in the end magic
was replaced by a cult of the gods that postulated obedience and worship. In other words, the
phenomenon of the cuft of the gods cannot be derived from that of magic or of totemism or
of the cult of the dead. It has economic, social, and political roots of its own: it is the creation
of princes who had to resort to slave labor and slave obedience.
The princes created the gods in their own image; but although their purpose· was anti-
magical, they could establish their creation in the face of tradition only by incorporating
older religious elements into it. The cult of the gods-at least in Egypt-is of comparatively
recent origin, late-neolithic or protodynastic, and it is never met with in pure form, but
always in the form of a compromise with the elements of totemistic magic and of the cult of
the dead, even though the compromise is veiled by elimination of the old modes and replace-
ment of these with new modes. Thus it comes about that the god-animals are identical not with
the totem animals-although the god-animal could hardly have existed without totemism-
but with the animals that served as the emblems of the chieftains, because the immigrants had
less tradition than the natives and the first dynastic kings were themselves immigrants. Char-
acteristically, the renaissance of the cult of animals in the late-dynastic period was a reaction
of the Egyptians against the foreigners, 'in which, according to Egyptologists, the upper
classes adopted the religion of the lower. Apparently the fact that the oldest Egyptian socio-
political organization had been under the sign of animal totems still lived in memory, while
the cult of the gods was regarded as a foreign importation, resented by the people because
they associated their enslavement with the introduction of this cult.
Thus the character of the Amratian pottery cannot be considered as direct evidence of
a still existing totemistic organization; it merely points to the definite probability that such
organization did exist at an earlier time. However, the Amratiart vessels do reveal a hitherto
unsuspected process of assimilation as between the immigrant nomadic warriors and the
settled population, as well as the totemistic clan organization of a people that had just out-
grown the hunting stage. It is obvious that such a complex evolution involved a number of
shifts and compromises. If the development of a syncretistic style reflects this social and
political prncess, it can be said that the clan (or prince) whose totem (or emblem) was the
hippopotamus, played a leading part in it. For while the crocodile is predominantly drawn in
the crotchet style, and gradually disappears, the originally crotchet-style drawing of the
hippopotamus becomes the first to include purely geometric elements, and later this animal
is represented in the syncretistic style (p. 11 3). The desert sheep and the Egyptian goat are
even more thoroughly discarded, while fishes, turtles, and an unidentifiable water bird are
added. The hunting scene mentioned above [XVII, 1] includes animals representing all the
population groups, but it is doubtless not incidental that even this picture-which belongs
to the end of the period and of the assimilation process-shows two dogs jumping upon a
crocodile.
If it is true that animals that came to be related to stars or constellations were formerly
totems, it can also be expla{ned why a dog appears within a geometrically drawn seven-
pointed star [XIV, 8]. This was in all likelihood one of the concessions made by the newly
I 0.1
arrived nomads to the settled population. Since they found among the natives a stellar cult
of the dead with animal elements, they gave the animal closest to themselves-the herdsman's
dog-the significance implied in thus relating it with a star, thereby drawing closer to the
ideology of lhe native ruling class. Such a step is quite in line with the developmental tend-
ency of the Amratiari culture-a _trend of gradual interpenetration that led .to fusion of a
group of nomads with the native ruling class for the purpose of more thoroughly exploiting
the rest of the population.
The problem is then reduced to the following question: Was the stellar cult of the dead
developed first by the natives or by the immigrants? The path from the animal as totem to
the animal in identification with a star or constellation seems so long that the people must
have followed it only under strong pressure. Did the conquerors, then, bring the astral cult
with them ready-made, or did they create it only after they reached Egypt? The archaeo-
logical material does not clearly answer this question, and ref ~rence to the Babylonian cult
of the stars does not prove much, for the Babylonian tradition likewise shows cultural impor-
tation. Apparently we must assume a common source, and this source Was a nomadic ~arrior
people, the basis of whose economic life is not known to us with any degree of certainty;
For that reason it is difficult to answer the question of why, which is scientifically more
important than the question of whence. But if my explanation of the geometric style is cor-
rect, it is natural to assume that the nomads' vague ideology of life and death developed into
a star ideology only during the struggles accompanying the transition from the nomadic to
the sedentary life. It was necessary for the nomads to distinguish themselves from the popu-
lation to be conquered, to preserve and strengthen their ideological unity while they spread
over the land, to legitimize the cleavage beginning to appear within their own ranks as a
result of seizures of land or people, etc. ·
This conjecture seems to be supported by the black pots with white-filled incised orf!a-
mentation. The conquerors ·came with a ware of this kind, and it must have been their mpst
conservative element- those who opposed any mingling with the natives- that retained it.
But this pottery does not manifest even a single star pattern. Further, what role did woman
as cultivator play in the development of the cult of the stars? If the Badarian branch orna-
mentation could be interpreted as referring to stars, it could be shown that this role was a
decisive one. But all we have to support this hypothesis are a few stars in the feminine cross-
lined style, which will be discussed in the section following.
Thus we reach the following conclusions. The crotchet style embodies the earliest tra-
dition of the settlers of Egypt. These people were organized in totemistic clans, and had prob-
ably reached a new stage in their magic cult of the dead in so far as the totem had been
•
replaced by the prince as the symbol of social unity. The immigrants pr9bably came without
clan organization, under a rigid leadership, and their role as foreigners and conquerors amidst
an occupationally differentiated native population compelled them to develop ·an ideology
that concretized their imported ideas about an afterlife into a cult <?f the stars. As the immi-
grants became socially stratified, and as their most powerful class realized that by allying
themselves with the native clan leaders they could more easily, more securely, and more
profitably exploit the conquered, the native ruling class also adopted the star ideology. The
stars they chose were naturally different, since they did not want to regress in heaven to a
conflict that on earth had been resolved to their advantage. Strikingly enough, the immigrants
102
had less stars than the natives. It might be concluded that the former were ruled so strictly in
the course of their wanderings that only a small number of persons rose above the common
level after they settled; the natives for their part opposed the newcomers by means of a clan
coalition, and the individual clan princes retained their privileges.
The Crosslined Style
[xix-xx]
While it is impossible to agree with Petrie in characterizing all the ornamentation of the
red Amratian pottery as crosslined, there is a limited group for which this term is quite
appropriate. If the geometric style was the earlier one-a question left open for the time
being-the crosslined style might have been derived from it by prolonging the sides of the
cumulated inner angles beyond their apexes. But if each style originated ,in a relatively inde-
pendent social group, we can assume that the netlike configuration derives from the pattern
of the crossed strands in weaving and plaiting. And since weaving and plaiting were, like
agriculture, feminine activities, the crosslined style can be regarded as a feminine style.
The relation to agriculture is manifested in the points produced as negative formations
by the intersection of the lines; points (or dots), as we have seen, signify grain. They occur
as early as the period of T asa, where they were contrasted with angles. It is noteworthy that
in the crosslined style gr~in is often represented also by positive dots, showing not only that
the artists differentiated between primary production and manufacture, but also that cultiva-
tion of the land as a source of food was held in higher esteem than conversion of materials
taken from the earth. The hypothesis of an association with tillage is supported by the occur-
rence also of the plant motif which, as we have seen, predominated in Badari.
If we assume that the sphere of soil cultivation supplied the basis for this style, we shall
interpret its entire content as reflecting the internal evolution of agriculture. If: howev~r'. we
start with form analysis, we shall be inclined to stre~s the motifs connected with the rigidly
geometric style and to conceive the crosslined style as an irregular, asymmetric varia~t of the
geometric. Several specific features of the style make such a twofold approach possible.
1. As a predominantly feminine expression, this style stresses content more than form;
the creation of forms presupposes a detachment from immediate reality that woman seldom
achieves. The warrior nomads. achieved such abstraction that the forms they invented were
universal and could easily be applied to a variety of content. Even in Tasa the dots (seeds of
grain) were placed not only in narrow vertical or oblique bands around the vessels but also
in angle formations pointing upward or downward. Thus assimilation of fo~m a~d c~nt.en~ of
heterogeneous origin began at a very early date, and it may be inferred that this assimilation
was due to vital social needs. _
2. The earliest known purely feminine device is the plant or branch. It is found for ~he
I first time in Merimda. It is made by means of angles pointing left or right along a connectmg
I straight line. The sides of the angle are not always continued to the implied ape~, i. e., they
do not invariably intersect the connecting line. The horizontal position of the design may be
related to the fact that a broken branch served to represent the f ceding of the dead or the
analogy between the first life and the rebirth of plant and man. Later the plan~ was repre-
sented in an upright position, as it occurs in nature. This produces angles openmg upward.
103
 Thus there could easily be a meeting of the forms arising from imitation of nature and the
abstract symbols of life and death.
3. These form possibilities were very quickly realized for reasons of social necessity. If
the immigrants came without herds and without women, they used the native women for the
satisfaction of their sexual needs and their food requirements. If the conquerors came with
their own herds and women, the native women still had great importance because of their
knowledge of agriculture. Especially when the native hunters, by forming alliances of several
clans or localities, could oppose stronger resistance to the conquerors, it was to the latters'
interest to win over the women and to preserve and extend agriculture. This shift in the
alignments of the occupations and the sexe_? explains the high degree of independence enjoyed
by women, which is reflected even in the purely geometric style by the meaning of the
signX. This sign embodies the ideas both of sexual intercourse and of rebirth, picturing the
woman as positioned above the man in the sexual act. Further, it presents a very rare if not
unique identification of woman and heaven. Under these circumstances it seems hardly
correct to separate the iconographic and the purely stylistic aspects of the problem.
Obviously, in a style based on agricultural associations, the idea of grain-represented
as plant, fruit, or seed-plays a predominant role [XIX, 1-11]. The interpretation is justified
in view of the identity of the dot sign with the later hieroglyphic, although in other instances
the relations between the neolithic signs and hieroglyphics are somewhat tenuous. In this case
. the constant salience of agriculture in relation to subsistence is operative. But we have also
some prehistoric confirmations. In a device of concentric rings on a shard discovered in
Kubanieh, the inner circle (womb of the earth) is filled with dots, while the space between
the inner and outer circles shows plants that appear to be swayed by wind; thus, besides the
idea of seed, which becomes plants, there is the idea of plants fertilized ~y aid of wind.
Distribution of dots all over the surface of the pot clearly cannot be a form in itself. Such
an ornamentation raises the question whether the dots substitute for a sacrifice of real grain
to the'dead person, or whether they stand for a charm to be used by him to.help the survivors
to obtain better crops. Just when did it come about that the real grain placed under the mouth
of the corpse, as in the graves of Merimda, was replaced by a simulation of grain, which later
was supposed to make the dead believe that they were taking their possessions with them?
There can be no definite answer to this question, for the meanings were always intended to
be ambivalent: The greater the amount of food procured f_or the dead by magic means, the
more generously would they help the living. When magic became linked to the cult of the
dead, it ceased to function unequivocally; but the ideas of magic and sacrifice were still not
separated, beca.use the former no longer realistically related to a social action evolving from
experience, and the latter did 119t yet signify a real surrender of the self to a higher being,
although i~ was rooted in the paleolithic magic of propitiation, conceived as a kind of per-
suasion or bribing. That such opposed ideas appear together means not that people did not
know how to distinguish between them, but rather thdt they felt the more sharply a relation
between 'them, for the v€ry reason that the one notion so inevitably passed into the other. _In
all languages, old and new, we find words with contradictory meanings, positive and negative.
Like the dot, the plant seldom occurs as an isolated device [XIX, 1 2-20]. Occasionally
the crossing of branches is reduced to a crossing of straight lines, and some of th'e angles thus
formed are filled with dots [XIX, 9]. Sometimes the plants are separated by groups of straight
strokes; these probably signify the potencies of the dead rising from the ground. Thus the
alternation of symbols of forces of life and of death appears as an analogy to the idea of rebirth
and as a means of magic for securing a second life; but it is never meant to indicate that the
dead person is reborn as a plant. This type of identification of the dead with organisms of
another kind is completely alien to the dualistic and antipantheistic outlook of the prehistoric
Egyptians: they firmly believed that they would be reborn to a second life, but they knew
nothing of a reincarnation in another earthly form.
The dramatic contrast is greater when plants and angles are juxtaposed, for now a single
vertical stroke suJiices to change the abstract sign of life (after rebirth) into the sign of a
living object (plant) . Nevertheless it cannot be argued that in the Egyptian neolithic orna-
mentation the abstract sign arose from naturalistic imitation, or vice versa, for the sources of
the two signs are different. But as soon as the insignificance of this formal difference was
realized, the possibility of connecting upward or downward directed angles by means of a
stroke led to the idea of connecting a sequence of alternately upward and downward point-
ing angles by means of a line. Thus there arose a new sign extraordinarily characteristic of
neolithic Egypt, and found in several variants ( # or ~) . The single change from life to
death <X) becomes the repetitional change; now what is under the earth can be regarded as
potential life (not merely as death) and what is above the earth, as potential death (not
merely as life).
The fact that the new form derives from agriculture is occasionally confirmed by the
insertion of single dots into the angles (fruit and seed in alternation). At the same time, the
ideas of placing into the earth and of growing out of the earth, of the interplay of human labor
and cosmic natural forces, show forth unmistakably. Man sows and buries, nature gives life
and gives death, in continuous alternation.
On a tall vase illustrated by Quibell [XX, 4] there appears-together with the abstract
sign of life ( v), a plant, and a repetitional sign of resurrection (¥)-a series of approxi-
mately square rectangles each marked off into squ~res. Other rectangles so marked are
elongated; some of these are placed horizontally. The most general association of this sign is
probably with the ideas of protection and fettering; its most concrete meaning perhaps relates
to the land won for tillage by irrigation and protected by human labor. Such checkered
rectangles appearing in groups are often connected by a straight line [XX, 4, 11]; they may pe
placed on the same side of the line or on either side of it. The allusion here may be to fertile
land lying on one or on both shores of the Nile. This would indicate that even in prehistoric
times the Egyptians had begun to divert the Nile floods into canals, through the continuous
efforts of the immigrant warriors and the native women cultivators. But since these signs
emerge as a particular expression of magic wishes, we may assume that such regulation of
the floods had only just begun; thus an irrigated plot of land would have special value,
raising its owner above the common level. Hence the wish to give land to the dead envisaged
valuable land of this sort, and the sign of the gift was usually accompanied by plant signs
connoting the great fertility of the land. Some texts of a later epoch read almost like legends
for these signs:
To build for a man in the kingdom of the dead, to cultivate the fields, and to plant
the fruit trees.
There is a text about a dead man ascending to the field of Jaru:
There he will be given ten acres of land, the servants of Horus will plant barley and
wheat, and he will harvest them.3 5
- .
However, in neolithic times this sign probably did not stand only for the heir's guar-
antee of continued sacrifices to the dead through his own labor; it bespoke also his demand
on the magic aid of the deceased in the continuation of the work begun by the latter, or
represented an offering of the land to him (through sacrificial magic )-i. e., for his cultiva-
tion in order to assure himself of food. This interpretation is supported by. the fact that
occasionally the forms of implements are painted on the vases [XXI, 1]. If this hypothesis
holds, it might be inferred that even the dominant class of Amratian society did not fear
work after death as much as did the Egyptians of historical times. The value of the earth,
situated between the nether world and heaven, was increased by human labor, and the expres-
sion of consequent prid"e in achievement and of a sense of increasing abundance appears with
particular clarity on a vessel illustrated by De Morgan [XX, 6]. Whether the system of irri-
gation always marked out rectangular plots of land bordering the Nile, or whether the plots
were occasionally of different shape, must remain an open question. The groups of triple
circles found on another pot illustrated by' De Morgan [XX, 3] may also relate to a system
for regulating the floods. Obviously various systems were tried before the best method of
irrigation was found.
Among the checkered figures the approximate squares are so strikingly different from the
-elongated rectangles that it is impossible to assume that the two have the same significance.
The tall rectangles decidedly bring to mind two later ideas that perhaps were originally one-
that of the ladders by which the dead ascended to the heavens, and that of the so-called djed
pillars, erection of which was equivalent to restoration of the body of Osiris (the d~ceased) .
Since the graves prove the existence of this custom in particular cases, it might be con-
jectured that the sign of the checkered rectangle denotes the process pledged by a magic
way, as an assurance on the part of the heir that the deceased will have all his b9nes given back
to him, to enable him to ascend to a new life in heaven. The celestial ladder would then be
only the projection of the idea of the skeletal restoration that secured and maintained the
second life of the deceased. A closely analogous sign is found in paleolithic remains and also
in a later age on Greek vases. In each case it is related to the cult of the dead:
The signs of the plant, grain, and land-more than the signs of the other styles-connect
the second life of man with his first life. This is true also of some complicated signs composed
of these elements. One of these [XX, 7] has four concentric rings in the center; the intervals
are filled with dots-i. e., seed buried in the ground. Lines emanating from these circles
toward the rim connect them with angles-signs of life or of death; and these signs are in turn
filled with d~ts. At each side are three rows of life-death signs, here obviously signifying
water, which brings life and death. In the spaces between the rows we find the above described
sign of repeated resuscitation ( ¥), which is related to the idea of cultivation of land. I think
that the whole represents the season of receding water, sowing, and sprouting crops. Another
vessel [XX, 9] bears signs of land separated by lines representing water: this is a picture of
the flood season, i. e., the land is under water. Another among such devices of seasonal asso-
ciation is that on a vessel found in El-Mahasna, showing a six-pointed star together with a row
106
of life and death signs; if these are interpreted as alluding to water, the motif offers a direct
representation of the relation between Sirius and the N ile floods [XX, 1o].
We do not know whether prehistoric man recognized only two seasons; or whether the
third, unfertile season was of no importance in relation to the magic cult of the dead. The
signs probably incorporated a wish that the dead person might have propitious seasons and
find abundant food; this naturally ei:nbodied also a charm on behalf of the living, either
because it would free them of responsibility for feeding the deceased or because it would
make his active aid to them certain. But the predominant idea was doubtless the wish to give
the dead man as much as possible of his former environment, so that he might provide for
himself, thus enabling his heir to enjoy his inheritance. These are all ideas of cultivators; the
warriors living on plunder consigned the deceased to "live on his fathers and eat of his
mothers."
This does not mean that the agricultural part of the population succeeded in imposing
its traditional views on the whole of the community and in keeping the dead bound to the
living. For this both the differentiation and the interdependence of the.occupational groups
were too great, and the artistic capacities of the women cultivators too small. We cannot
with any certainty trace the demarcation line between purely agrarian elements and the ele-
ments that must be interpreted as an adaptation to the warrior-herdsman ideology. T wo
crossed branches on an Amratian pot may not mean anything more than a similar motif on
Badarian pots as interpreted above (p. 61) - a charm to assure the awakening of the dead to
a new life, like plants. Nevertheless, it is striking that even in Badari we find two vertical
,
. branches placed beside each other, and that in an Amratian design two smaller branches occur
in each of the four fields produced by the intersection of the first branches. On the celestial
map of the Rameseum (in contrast to the map of Dendeiah) the T win Stars are represented
by "two shoots of a plant." 36
Is this interpretation valid for prehistoric times? W e know that in one device there is a
star broken by a branch (plant) [XV, 6]. Although this only confirms the analogy between
the plant sign and the life-death sign, the bolder conjecture is not completely implausible, as
is proven by the fact that we find in the crosslined style not only some stars of the geometric
style but also stars that are not found either in the purely geometric or in the crotchet style.
If the conjecture holds, we have here a concept transitional between the signification of the
plant as purely a life-death analogy and the connotation of a star. Later we find an inverse
transition in hieroglyphic writing, in which stars mean plants. T his latter fact is easier to
explain if we accept the present proposition.
In so far as the motifs remain the same- arrangements of from three to eleven angles
within a circular band, i. e., between a smaller and a larger ring, or similar devices pierced
by signs of life or death penetrating from above and below-the stylistic differences between
the geometric and the crosslined style are greater than the differences in content [XXI, XXII].
1. The crossed lines replacing the cumulation of parallel angles that predominates in the
.geometric style, run parallel to the sides of the angle inclosing them. T hey do not have the
degree of independence that marks lines so drawn in Badari, producing a dualism between
outline and contained pattern (as is also the case in the crotchet style). H ere the line does
not exist for itself, it is only a function in a web. As the web becomes closer-meshed, dis-
tinctness of the individual line is minimized in favor of the web; but the process never eventu-
107
 ates in a solid covering of the area; the intersections of the lines remain distinct, functioning
as negatives. This effect of dependence is probably due to the fact that the artist's hand and
inventive fantasy were preconditioned by an older activity-mat and basket weaving. It also
indicates a relatively lesser degree of detachment in the artist, which implies a higher degree
of concentration on the facts of fecundation and birth. It is through this, not through artistic
form, that the dualism becomes a unity.
2. In certain characteristic patterns .the cumulated parallel angles form a band; they
lose their geometric straightness, become flexible, motile, bending and curving, so that ulti-
mately the angle of the arrow is transformed into a segment of a circle, which then achieves
independence as an arc. In the geometric style, when four angles are arranged between two
rings, the resulting negative is either a cross (if the angles do not meet) or a quadrangle (if
the angles meet); these two forms are always kept strictly apart. The crosslined style tends
to intermingle the elements of the two forms and to create intermediate patterns.
3. The geometric severity of structures governed by axes and symmetries is aban-
doned: the forms become flexible, asymmetric; the axes shift. This is either a consequence or
a cause of the fact that now stars with an uneven number of points (three, five, seven, nine,
eleven) are preferred. The angles no longer meet, the figure is open at one or several sides,
and the closed form is replaced by a path. Thus a completely new content is possible- the
. representation of a process of becoming, of development, while in the geometric style even
movement from the earth to the celestial equator was represented as completed.
+ The set figures of the geometric style are seen here as mobile. Either there is an
explicit effect of movement sideward- usually from left to right- or the _number of the
straight lines within the negative (e.g., in the Y form) is increased, or the widths of the
surfaces of the negative are varied. The direction of the movement can be explained as follows.
The dead were laid on the left side (the heart side) to prevent them from casting spells; thus
leftward turning was supposed to destroy strength, i. e., it was the turn to the unpropitious
side. In the syncretistic style most of the hippopotamuses move ceremoniously leftward in a
·circle, i.e., they are mastered, made harmless as regards magic potency. Inversely, rightward
movement must have implied the propitious turn. The most Striking exemplification of this
is a geometric stylization of nine leafy branches that start from a central circle full of seed
dots and bend rightward, scattering dots of fertility at the periphery [XIX, 8]. The right-
ward turn is therefore to be interpreted as a {ertility charm, a spell for assuring food.
This too can be explained in the light of the cult of the dead. In the Amratian period
the dead were placed with their faces westward, that is, with their backs to the inhabitated
and cultivated •land; thus they could not see their heirs bringing them the sacrificial meals and
had to be summoned to turn from left to right. In a Pyramid Text we read:
My father, rise from thy left side and lie upon thy right side, turning to the fresh
water that I have given thee. My father, rise from thy' left side and lie upon thy right side,
turning to the fresh bread that I have procured for thee. I am t?y son, thy heir. 37
In another text we read:
My father, rise, receive this water cif thine.... Shake the sand from thy face, rise
from thy left side and lean upon thy right side.38
108
This is doubtless the original association of the allusion to the dead turning in their graves.
Further, the later Egyptians believed that the breath of life enters through the right ear, the
breath of death through the left ear. Since the dead were oriented toward the west, a right-
ward turn could mean only a turn to the east, and Sethe's interpretation39 of the Egyptian
expressions for right and left is not applicable in relation to the Second Culture. Does this
mean that the beaker 'folk did not come from the north, or were the dead buried in Upper
Egypt with their feet toward their old homeland on earth and their eyes toward the new?
In the rarely occurring instances of eastward orientation, the intention was perhaps to insure
the living, who gave the deceased the magic power to turn back on his left side after receiving
the sacrifices due him.
Among all the arrangements of angles within circles in the crosslined style, the one con-
sisting of four angles deserves speciai notice. I have pointed out the possible connection
of this sign of the four winds with the rejuvenation rites for princes and magicians, and with
the role that women may have played in these rites in prehistoric times. Even the geometric
style occasionally displays a striking peculiarity, in that the points of the four angles are
connected by straight lines. The four resulting diagonals can be interpreted either as indi-
cating the four intermediate directions (northwest, northeast, etc.), or as signifying a rein-
forcement of the power and swiftness of the broad arrows.
In some designs in which there also appear two concentric rings connected by strokes,
such angles are replaced by dot-filled arcs. Here the diagonals can be interpreted as arrows
shot from bows into the rings by cultivators (women) . Le Page Renouf, 40 in explaining a
text in Chapter 13 2 of the Book of the Dead concerning the bow-"I am the Lion-god, issuing
from the Bow; he (the god) hath shot forth, he is the eye of Horus"-quotes the Greek
astronomer Geminus (77 A.D.), who says in the seventh chap~er of his Elaaywyli that the
moon derives her light from the sun. According to Le Page Renouf, Geminus
makes what Arago calls l'observation tres delicate that a line drawn from the center of the
sun bisects at right angles the line which joins the horns of the crescent. Let us then call
a crescent a bow. This bow is always turned to the sun; the arrow which it shoots
necessarily has for its aim the sun, or the sun is itself the missile shot from it.
This quotation would explain our sign if it could be related also to an earlier time, and
in that case would show that the cult of the stars included the sun and the moon. It is hardly
possible to produce adequate proof, even if we consider the Badari sign of the eye with rays
as the first version of the later widespread myth of the eye of the sun, and, further, grant that
certain stars with fourteen, fifteen, or more points may denote the sun. Thus W . M. Muller41
reproduces an eighteen-pointed star accompanied by the caption, "The dead wimess the
birth of the sun from the celestial three," suggesting that the force of the rays is indicated by
the number of points. Particularly noteworthy is a design from El-Amrah, reproduced
by De Morgan [ XXI, 1 6], which presents a spiral unrolling in a fifteen-pointed star, perhaps
to signify life unfolding with the rising of the sun. Similarly, Budge reproduces a fifteen-
pointed star appearing in a picture to which he gives the caption: "The sun rising above the
tomb of Nefer-uben-f." 42
All these interpretations would have to be regarded as attempts to reconcile the cult of
the sun with that . of the stars, if stars with many points did not sometimes occur on
109
Amratian vases. It would be surprising if a magic that so extensively employed transference
spells had never hit upon the idea of giving the energies of the sun to the dead, the idea con-
tained in the later phrase, "to change oneself into the fire of the eye of Horus." But all this does
not sufficiently reveal how the Amratian culture related the sun and moon to the other heav-
enly bodies, for in the texts the bow is always referred to as a constellation identical with the
Archer of the Greeks. Two things should be noted: (1) the name of this constellation was
also the name of a clan, as Loret has established, so that we have here a new relation between
the cult of the dead and the social organization; ( 2) the two constellations that are repre-
sented exclusively in the feminine style, the Twin Stars and the bow, are at a great distance
from each other in opposite regions of the sky, just as the hippopotamus and the ear of corn
are in opposite, widely separated parts of the heavens. This is in striking contrast to the prac-
tice of grouping neighboring stars, as in the designs showing .fisnes and a hippopotamus.
In the signs formed by four angles [XXII, 1-7] the angles are arranged in such a way
as to leave a wide separation from the median line. The bands of space so formed have the
effect of paths; on them are forms whose line of motion is from the rim inward toward the
center, or vice versa. The vertically oriented forms are signs of life and of death. Sometimes
there is only one of each _of these; on other vessels there are a considerable number of both,
arranged-in several rows, and the path is no longer of the same width throughout, but broad-
ens to take in the inner ring. On the horizontal path are straight or slightly curved lines prob-
ably indicating a line of motion from the center outward, and in one specimen there is a small
plant (or branch) to the right and a broad tree to the left. The meaning of this sign in all
instances seems to be that a great increase takes place between sowing and harvest, and,
analogously, between human fertilization and birth. Here we have a fertility spell that calls
into question the foundation of all magic- the principle of conservation of magic forces. In a
world ideologically dominated by magic, woman, who by cultivating the land made six seeds ,
out of two, and a tree out of a shoot, was a revolutionary force bound to destroy the belief
that the sum of magic forces remained constant and that the soul, leaving the decaying body
in the grave, became a star in the heavens without suffering essential change.
The energies of homo f aber as cultivator did not merely alter the material of nature,
they multiplied it and raised its potency; the ever endangered miracle of the harmonious
interplay between human labor and natural forces required increasingly stronger fertility
spells, and thus man was all the more rapidly confronted by the limitations of magic.
The combined use of geometric signs and_plant forms, with its rich contrasts, c:ih be
clearly seen in the motif reproduced in. plate XXII, figure 1. The ab~tract signs increase from
zero to three times three in a progression across the circles representing the earth; the plant
forms multiply as they rise from the circles (the earth). The earth has acquired a new mean-
ing: it is no longer merely the seat of the grave, it is also the soil that makes human labor fruit-
ful. This has been woman's accomplishment, and it is J10t surprising that she should thereby
have won material independence and social equality. We may recall here the words of
E. Meyer:
While among the Libyan tribes matriarchy and the loose marriage were often pre-
served, the Egyptian woman had an emancipated position and separate property rights;
the sons were usually named after the mother, and as late as the fourth century there was
110
here, along with the patriarchal marriage, a form of marriage in which woman chose
her husband and could repudiate him if she paid damages. For this very reason marriages
between sisters and brothers were quite customary.43
On such foundations there arose a specifically feminine style of ornamentation. Man
sought for each type of content a unique form, for only through form could he perpetually
reconquer the world. But woman sought to represent the same thing in ever changing forms,
for in .a changing world woman sees only this- that she encompasses all of experience, for
everything must first go through her body, in conception, pregnancy, and birth. Thus for
woman the paths between life and death, work and fantasy, earth and heaven, shrink; all
things are only the veil-motley, multiple, changing, and always deceptive-that is spread over
the only essential fact. The geometric style transcends the purpose of mere ornamentation,
externally imposed, and creates an autonomously evolving and self-sufficient form. The cross-
lined style transcends mere ornamental quality because of the emotional experience shining
through the beauty of the ornamentation. The former is the style of a phallic symbolism
masked under the arrowhead fashioned by man, which brings death to men and animals. The
latter is frankly the style of a vaginal symbolism. The geometric style strives toward achieve-
ment of structure intended for the eye-a sign in which form is salient. The crosslined style
strives toward expression of conscious sensibility and creative force and ends in dissolving
all form.
In accordance with these stylistic differences in the ornamentation, the function and
shape of the vessels themselves vary. Most of the pots ornamented in the crosslined style are
of medium height, with flat base and broadly opening rim. The pots on which the geometric
style is used are relatively higher or lower, and in the latter case have rounded bases and
slightly contracted rims. Among all the carinate vases, the great legacy of the Badarian time,
only one is ornamented in the crosslined style-significantly, ~ith a .five-pointed star. It is as
though this form had resisted feminization. It is natural to assume that the forms of the vessels,
the technique of painting them, and the content and stylistic characteristics of the signs, were
determined by a feminine purpose or by a feminine cult with specific rites.
.If we now take up the question of whether one of these two styles preceded the other,
we must recall ( 1) that the form of the pots painted in the crosslined style goes back to
Merimda, and thus is much older than the form ornamented in the geometric style; (z) that
·plaiting and weaving are in all probability older techniques than pottery; ( 3) that in the
crosslined ornamentation the ideas of death and life are more closely connected than in the
two other styles, which reflect a much more thoroughgoing separation of the dead from the
life of earth, as it were in protest against death. But even if the women perpetuated older
technical, formal, and ideological elements, this does not necessarily mean that their style
of ornamentation was formed earlier. The forms and meanings of the signs had quite different
origins and were achieved.by different methods, because they were based on entirely clifferent
modes of life. The background common to all the styles is the preoccupation with a magic
concentrated around the dead; above all, there is the fact that the populations that produced
them were settled on the same soil, had the same needs, and were each unable to satisfy these
without the help of the others. Thus the three styles may have arisen more or less simul-
taneously. First, differences of form and content developed out of different and even mutually
I I I
opposed conditions of life; later, the different elements began to mingle, and the oppositions
were reconciled in a new, syncretistic style.
The Syncretistic Style
[XVIII, xxm]
Our analysis of the Amratian ornamental devices painted in white on a red background
has established two facts: ( 1) there are three quite different styles, employing different form
elements and different principles of decoration, because they originated in different occupa-
tions; ( 2) each style tended to absorb elements of the others, because none of the three
occupational classes could preserve itself-and thus contribute to the stability of the social
order as a whole-without the cooperation of the others, so that participation of the three
occupational groups, so different in regional origin, tradition, and social and economic func-
tion, in a single ruling group was unavoidable. \Ve have seen that the native hunters identified
stars and constellations with animals, sonic of which at least had been totems of their clans
and subsequently had acquired a magic significan~e in the princely cult of the dead; vice
versa, the conquerors (probably herdsmen), who had brought with them an abstract orna-
mental style, associated a dog with a seven-pointed star. Likewise, the wome.n cultivators
adapted their magic of tillage to the cult of the stars (the ear of corn, the twins, the bow),
assimilating some of the elements of this cult of the stars and representing them in a form
language deriving from their own plaiting and weaving skill.
In studying this assimilation of heterogtneous elements, we have seen that content is
taken over more easily than stylistic method, perhaps because each population group could
adopt a general ideological principle from another and express it in a form belonging to its
own tradition. Thus the hunters adopted the cult of the stars but attributed to the .constel!a-
tions the forms of animals. In this process of assimilation the women revealed themselves as
less independent than the men, probably because, being placed between two male groups of
differing occupation in an epoch of transition from one stage of sociopolitical organization
to another, they were more intent upon improving their social status than upon integrating
it as a factor of power. As regards the development of form, the process of assimilation seems
to have taken another path, either because in this sphere the universal is inseparable from the
particular, or because style is more deeply rooted in the life of a social group (or individual)
than content is. In only one instance does the style seem to fluctuate between angles and
crotchets; otherwise each of the three original style elements changes in such a way that
tog·ether they. produce a new style. Because of its origin this style may be called syncretistic
[XXIII]. It appears most purely in the new method of representing animals. In animal forms
the crotchets are eliminated; in plant. forms, in which they had little or no role originally,
they are characteristically transformed. Confining ourselves to animal forms, we can char-
acterize this new style as follows: .J
1. The element is no longer the angle but the double rectangular frame (fill) abstracted
from the structure of quadruped animals. This element is derived from the combination of
body and legs rather than from the body alone; which was the usual basis of animal forms in
the paleolithic era.
2. Cumulation of the element is limited to two forms per group. Considering the great
112
significance of the principle of cumulation in magic, this limitation must be interpreted as
a renunciation imposed upon magic by reality. The similar conflict between reality and the
subjective-the wishes to be realized by magic-leads to the sharp distinction between out-
line and inclosed design; in the former the single stroke is applied, in the latter the cumulation.
3. The curve is introduced to represent the connection between body and neck Oi'.
back and tail, or flexion of body. The two different line characters do not remain juxtaposed,
but develop from each other; the curve never becomes an independent, much less a dominant
element, as it does in the first phase of. Susa pottery.H
4. The space between the lines of the 'double rectangular frame is bridged either by a
simple oblique line, by angles, or by crossed oblique lines. All these types of connection are
secondary, i.e., they do not lessen the dualism of outline and interior design.
5. Except for a few instances of circular arrangement, the animals are placed in rows
at two or three different heights. \Vithin a given row they are not placed on the same level.
The various heights appear to stand for different planes, although there is naturally no ques-
tion of perspective drawing. The animals are not placed over base lines, even where the
abstract signs (M) have base lines [XVIII, 3], a fact doubtless indicating that the latter have
acquired a fixed fetishistic character. The legs are vigorously drawn bars, so that the animals
seem to be standing firmly on a plane rather than floating in space. To this extent the manner
of representing animals asserts the fact that life has become settled and the horizon fixed.
However, a spatial differentiation seems intended: the upper figures seem farther off in depth
than the lower ones, regardless of size; small animals in the lower part of the picture are
supposed to be in the foreground, while even large ones, when they are situated in the upper
part of the picture, are conceived as positioned in the background. Thus we have an organi-
zation of space in which height is made to stand for depth, by deliberate act of the artist. As
for the circular arrangements, we have, besides the leftward movement of the hippopotamuses
in one plane (p. 96), a rightward movement of oxen [XIII, 7], represented by a form inter-
locking two basic elements ( L=i); these, at least in reproduction, do not seem to be in the same
plane. This is a form curiously fluctuating between the meander and the spiral, and it has no
analogy in this epoch. It bears witness not only to a need of setting the composition in motion
but above all to the incipient change in the entire sexual ideology.
6. The syncretistic style, more recent than the geometric and crotchet sty les, represents
the fusion of the abstract and the naturalistic-vitalistic tendency. The new line is both
straight and flexible, both abstract and sensuously mobile. Though the structure of the
animal is schematized, a fusion of structural abstraction and vitalistic sensuousness is never-
theless achieved.
7. Plants are to some extent still represented in. the simple geometric _sty le, but the
strokes have lost their rigidity; they have softened, are occasionally of varying thickness at
beginning and end; the oblique lines do not start at equidistant points at either side of the
stem. More radical changes result in transformation of the stroke into a crotchet or in re-
placement of it by a lozenge-like figure. But there is no attempt as yet to represent the plant
in the feminine crosslined style. In one instance we have a ribbon-like band with crosslines
as a base under a plant [XVIII, 4]-standing possibly for the earth or the horizon. This is
probably the first use of a base in the history of art (except for the engraved stones of Limeuil,
dating from the end of the paleolithic era); its emergence complements the first use of the
113
 line of vision in the Badarian vessds (p. 57). Both these developments stem from the basic
fact that life had become settled and that the world was viewed from a fixed standpoint.
Turning now to the iconographic aspect of the syncretistic style, we recall that we have
already analyzed mixtures of the geometric style with the crotchet or the crosslined style,
as applied to a given content; there remain to be discussed chiefly designs in whic~ animals
and plants appear together. However, it is necessary first to point out some facts that cast
additional light on the new period now evolving from the old.
On some vases we find animal forms together with abstract signs of life and death;
the latter occur either as isolated signs (M) or as tiered rows of angles completely filled with
white paint. The animals pictured are of domesticated species, and it is unlikely tha~ the_Y
stand for heavenly bodies; they quite definitely bring to mind animal graves. In prehistoric
times animals were often buried with humans; even more often they were separately en-
. tombed. Peet found burials of cats ill the Abydos settlement, Petr~e found dogs in Naqada,
the habit of storks of returning to their old nests-i. e., an assurance that the earthly home of
the deceased would remain open t'o him. The scholia to The Birds of Aristophanes mention
Egyptian scepters with a device in which a stork appears above a hippopotamus; this sign
is supposed to mean that "the government sees to it that justice prevails·over violence." 45 We
see that under the dynasties there was a change in the meaning of the old sign related to the
cult of the dead. -
On a vessel on which plants alternate with animal forms representing an ichneumon,
a jackal, and what are probably giraffes [XXIII, 6], the drawing of the leaves comes nearer
to being in the crotchet style than in any other. Keller writes about the ichneumon a~ follows:
With admirable deftness, endurance, and caution it moves for hours in the brush of
the delta to hunt birds, eggs, and all kinds of small quadrupeds. It is also eager to attack
snakes.... Against the poison of these it protects itself by eating of a certain curative
plant.46 ·

and Brunton reports that in Badari he found a grave containing the remains of fifteen dogs-
Keller does not know the name of this herb, but the vase drawing may be taken to imply a
" a slaughter of more esoteric meaning" -and one with the bones of thirteen oxen. The bones
water plant, for it was chiefly water plants that were represented in the crotchet style. ~h_e
of each animal were carefully arranged; the head Was placed on top of the pile of bones
giraffes must have been chosen because of their ability to find food in tall trees when ~t is
and made to face northward. It is impossible to say whether this is to be interpreted as
scarce on the ground, and the jackal because it eats carrion and was supposed by the Egyptians
an orientation toward the homeland of the immigrants (which would relate the burials to a
to help humans in need. The design may therefore represent a protective and food-procuring
custom they had brought with them) or whether, as Brunton thinks, it is a "portion of Nile
spell. Man's fantasy was burdened with the fear of hunger; the dead were to be freed from
Valley cultural heritage which is assignable to Hamitic tradition." The most plausible ex-
this fear through magic means. ..
planation to my view would be that the immigrant warrior-herdsmen, .now masters of the
The vessel that poses the most complicated iconographic problem is one on which
native owners of the land, sacrificed some of their animals partly in order to make sure that
an animal form is drawn over a base line [XVIII, 4]. The design includes two trees, and
they would have help and food in their afterlife, partly in order to display their power, and
between them a sign similar to but not identical with the triadic cosmogonic sign; then
partly in order to reconcile the dead to the fact that the rest of their possessions were passing
comes a bull with curiously shaped horns, surrounded by dogs on all sides, and finally a
into other hands. This was a kind of inheritance tax originating in the circumstance that
rectangle within which are traced a horizontal line and ten short vertical lines (a group ~f
private property had superseded clan property. The excavations do not offer any clue as to
two and a cumulation of nine), separated by the sign N; this is the first appearance of this
the exact dates assignable to the animal graves; any time between the period of the Third
sign, which plays a great part in the Gerzean civilization. One of the Pyramid T exts47 states
Culture (Gerzean) and that of the Old Kingdom is considered possible. If our interpretation
that the bull of heaven must lower his horns to enable the newcomer among the dead to pass
of such vase motifs is correct, the custom may go back to the Amratian period.
to the meadows of Dat (originally he was doubtless going from one star to another). Ano~her
Among the vases ornamented with both animal and plant forms there is one deserving
text mentions two sycamores, one at each side of the region of heaven where the sun nses;
special attention because the formal elements on it fluctuate between the angle and the
this may be a later description of the prehistoric drawing. Finally, Gundel noteS4 8 that the
crotchet [ XXIII, 4]. The plants have leaves in the form of lozenges, and Petrie identifies
dog leaping upon the bull in the scenes on the Mithraic monuments should be regard~d as a
them as henna (Lawso11ia alba). In historical times the leaves of this plant were ground for
representation of Sirius; it should be recalled also that Sirius belongs to the constellation of
making the red dye with which the Egyptians colored their fingernails and hair. If this paint
the Dog, and that both were later associated with Isis. The design may, then, be a represe~~a­
was known in prehistoric times, the question is whether the dead were provided with henna
tion of the sunrise in association with Sirius and the Bull; it is pertinent to recall that Smus
only as a cosmetic gift. On a pot illustrated by Ayrton and Loat, the same plant appears
signified the beginning of the year. The motif is reminiscent of_that on the slate pal~tte dis-
between a crocodile and a hippopotamus; this curiously confirms Plutarch's reference to
cussed above (p. 87). The present design shows T aurus; while the palette. drawmg. uses
the fact that in later times the red hippopotamus was considered inimical to man. Thus the
Orion;·if Ideler is right in asserting that Orion was originally seen as a bull's hide, the differ-
plant must have had a magic significance that precegitd its cosmetic implication, but we do
ence is reduced to a minimum.
not know what it was.
Finally, the geometric sign remains to be explained. Similar rec~angles are f ~~nd on the
We note further the picture of a stork between two henna plants [XXIII, 4]. The
breasts of clay figures, where they may stand for charms of protection and fe_rtil~ty;. on the
stork on prehistoric vases may stand for a wish that the deceased might look after his sur-
present vessel the figure may directly represent a breast, arid it may be identical m sigmficance
vivors as well as the stork looks after its young, or for a pledge given by the survivors that
with the woman's breasts on the slate palette. This is suggested by the sign N. For actually
they would honor the departed as young storks honor the old, or perhaps for an allusion to
this sign is simply a fusion of the sign of death and the sign of life (Av ) into a single form
I 14
115
voiding the independent character of its component elements and the connotation of a tran-
sitional process. It is a new and late form for the old sign of rebirth CX), and the same mean-
ing is found in Greek and Latin radicals linked with the letter N ( ve6~, nasci). The presence
of this new sign, which in the Third Culture is used in long rows, is another proof of how
greatly the Amratian culture was transformed when. the different ideologies of the warrior-
herdsmen, hunters, and women cultivators were fused. The sign, originally considered as
identical with a real object, in time acquires the connotation of an image, and the same sym-
bolic meaning is found to occur in different forms. While a given magic sign has several
closely related meanings, we now have several devices standing for an identical meaning,
though the identity is sometimes hardly discernible. The connection between content and
sign, indispensable for magic, has vanished,- and thus magic itself reaches the limits of its
efficacy. And since magic was closely linked with the cult of the dead, the magic associated
with the dead must have become inoperative. In this iight it is hardly an accident that the
geometric sign ( N) that arose at the end of this epoch is utilized s·o largely in the next.
We reach the same conclusion if, aside from the iconographic aspect, we analyze the
formal aspect, i. e., the representational principle. However great the differences between
the first three styles, the fact remains that a given sign in any of them can be completely
encompassed by the eye at one glance or immediately grasped as a whole imaginatively,
because the beholder always sees the same form in repetition. This possibility of apprehending
the whole is a prerequisite for magic, for an incomplete formula cannot be magically
efficacious. Each of the three methods of representation corresponds to a different magic
equation of the earthly element (life) and the transcendental element (death). The first
style reflects a mediation by means of a geometric figure of transcendental implication
originating in human consciousness; the second makes a transcendental principle of the
vitality of nature; the third invokes the magic force of an analogy bet~vecn the rebirth of
vegetation and that of man.
In the syncretistic style we have for the first time not a complete and manipulable sign
but something that comes closer to our own idea of a picture. It is not a picture that can be
seen in its entirety at one glance, but a panorama that must be unrolled (by revolving the
vase or walking around it). Further, its parts may at best be symmetrically arranged, but they
are not a repetition of the same device, so that the picture becomes a whole only at the end,
by the mediation of visual memory. We have seen that from a purely iconographic point of
view, literal meaning is transformed into allegory and symbol; now we sec that from a purely
formal point of view, the self-sufficient magic sign is superseded by an unfolding picture, so
that even th,e allcgoricaL meaning is seen in incornplete stages and only gradually composes
itself for understanding. We have here the beginning of a long and often fatal development.
The specific aesthetic of the vase pictures can be defined as follows:
1. The entire surface is divided into two parts; each is framed either by straight lines
or by figures of trees. This division into two pictuf es stems from the wish to moderate the
rounding of the vise by means of a vertical plane-to make it static. The edges of this plane
are the sides of the vase, which by now does not engage the vision centrifugally from the
foremost point of extension of the bulge but centripetally from the two sides (p. 69). The
decoration adapts itself to this need for synthesizing motion and rest, revolution and stand-
still, in the form of the vase. When the single device is framed by straight lines, the self-
116
sufficient and the static are stressed; when the frame is supplied by figures of trees, with leaves
pointing to both sides, .turning motion is stressed. In each instance the device remains de-
pendent upon the form of the vessel, and this form does not obtruqe any countereff ects of
curvature strong enough to distort the device. Later, when contrasts of curvature become
dominant, this principle of picture-like ornamentation loses its artistic validity.
2. The contrast between drawing and background (white and red) is retained-no
longer as a leap from earthly to transcendental reality, but as a contrast within earthly
·actuality. The red background is now the atmosphere connecting trees, animals, and signs.
Beyond the meaning of the signs there arises the vision of a landscape. Each part of the draw-
ing now has a twofold meaning: ( 1) it represents a reality beginning to be self-sufficient-
to this extent we have before us the earliest landscapes; ( 2) it points to a transcendental mean-
ing no longer vested in it by magic and not yet mediated by gods.
3. The figures placed above one another are intended to represent figures behind one
another. This is clearest where identical figures forming a connected group are not placed on
the same level. The introduction of spatial differentiation constitutes not an attempt to achieve
the old transcendental implication (earth-heaven! by new means but a method of enhancing
an earthly reality striving toward self-sufficiency.
4. The dual relation of the picture to a transcendental reality freed from magic and to
visible nature finds its synthesis in the artistic unity of the work, which forces the beholder
to begin seeing it anew. The beginning becomes the end; the end becomes the beginning.
Thus sign is replaced by picture, and the picture becomes relatively independent of magic
meaning, just as earlier the form of the vase became independent of practical function. Magic
has capitulated to art. ·
The Solid-Figure Style
[xx1v]
In a culture so completely oriented to the life of man as producer and not as destroyer,
it would seem that man should occupy a prominent place among the subjects of art. But the
opposite is true. The four styles so far discussed were created not by individuals but by
groups, on the basis of their relations to life and death, earth and heaven, the male and the
female principle. What this art pictures is the magic power of man; the human individual is
never portrayed directly. The reason may be that man felt himself to be not an autono-
mous producer but only a midwife to natural forces. Moreover, man in effigy was exposed
to counterspells, particularly when his status was that of a magician. All this gives great
significance to_ the moment when the human form appears for the first time on a vessel
[XXIV], so drawn as to dominate a great part of the surface.
Small-scale human figures [XXIV, 6-9] occur chiefly in hunting scenes, usually to-
gether with figures of hippopotamuses fettered by long ropes. The, humans are not repre-
sented as hunting but only as holding th~ animals or raising their hands heavenward. We have
seen that the animal forms have a meaning that precludes interpreting the scene as a literal
genre picture. The same probably holds for a scene representing two small human figures
together with a crocodile, a boat, and the sign of immortality. But the scene on a cup
11 7
illustrated by Maclver and Mace may be a fairly faithful representation of an actual antelope
hunt with the help of wheel traps. Lindblom49 has shown that these were used throughout
Africa, and believes that we have here eight such traps "grouped in a circle and tethered to
a point in its center." But in this naturalistic scene-which was probably intended .to secure
the pleasures of the hunt or a supply of game for the dead-there are no human figures.
Human forms appear on a cup found by Brunton in Badari. The lower part of the
design shows a frame consisting of vertical supports spanned by horizontals; the upper part
shows two humans with their legs spread, i. e., males, holding between them a pole from
which verticals are suspended. If Brunton were right in interpreting this picture as portraying
a weaver's loom and the process of drying thread, we should have here the first representation
of manual work; moreover, the picture would prove that the originally female task of weaving
had fallen to the hands of men, i. e., that it was by now separated from purely household
purposes and had become an independent craft probably serving trade, unless these men are
magicians whose function it is to further the work. Another interpretation-that the scene
represents the conjuring of rain into a canal-seems more plausible, but it would have the
surprising implication that magicians and the magic act could be directly represented. In
the end phase of the Amratian culture this might be possible for the very reason that magic
had begun to lose its hold.
The limitations imposed by vessels of small size are absent when human figures are
represented on tall vases. These were probably the ceremonial vessels of the Amratian culture.
They served the needs of ostentation of the first ruling class in Egypt, the theme of whose
social and religious fortunes is conveyed on one of them [XXIV, 1 o]. The picture shows two
human figures, one small, long-haired, armless, seen entirely in profile. The other is large,
short-haired, wearing what may be a feather headdress, and the arms are upraised, with the
hands curved over the head; the lower part of the body is shown in profile, the upper in fropt
view. The two figures are facing or moving toward each other, and the small, armless
"David" has apparently thrust a spear between the ribs of the defenseless "Goliath," whose
sexual o.r gan is in marked erection.
What is the explanation of the striking difference between the two coinbatants with
regard to size, garb, and weapons? Archaeologists who refer it only to race declare that the
small, long-haired man is a native Egyptian of the time of the Amratian culture, while the
larger may, according to Winkler, 50 be identified with the Federschmuckleute ("feather
headdress people") who allegedly invaded Egypt from the east; they are distinguished from
Libyans in that the latter are usually shown as wearing penis pouches. In rock drawings the
former are often depicted in dancing postures with exaggeratedly bent knees; this flexion
seems to have been regarded as their "national" trait. But even if the scene in question repre-
sents a clash of two races, a native and an invader group, it still remains to be explained why
one of the adversaries does not defend himself and why the battle scene is surrounded by
plant forms and conta1ns a sign that we have interpreted as meaning "to die and to reawaken
to life." This sign was of fundamental significance in the Amratian culture, as is proven by
the frequency of its occurrence and the number of stylistic variants in which it appears. The
peculiarity of the change produced by the solid-figure style lies in the fact that it alternates
the sign of life and the sign of death along a common axis, stressing all the more their dif-
ference of direction (in the present picture, the directions are right and left).
II8
The connection between plants, the sign of death and reawakening to life, and the
slaying of a man is illumi11ated by Frazer:
There are some grounds for supposing that in .. . stories of Lityerses we have the
description of a Phrygian harvest custom in accordance with which certain persons,
especially strangers passing the harvest field, were regularly regarded as embodiments of
the corn-spirit, and as such were seized by the reapers, wrapt in sheaves, and beheaded....
There is a good deal more evidence that in Egypt the slain corn-spirit-the dead Osiris-
was represented by a human victim, whom the reapers slew on the harvest field, mourn-
ing his death in a dirge, to which the Greeks, through averbal misunderstanding, gave the
name of Maneros. For the legend of Busiris seems to preserve a reminiscence of human
sacrifices opce offered by the Egyptians in connexion with the worship of Osiris.
Busiris was said to have been an Egyptian king who sacrificed all strangers on the altar of
Zeus. The origin of the custom was traced to a dearth which afflicted the land of Egypt
for nine years. A Cyprian seer informed Busiris that the dearth would cease if a man were
annually sacrificed to Zeus. So Busiris instituted the sacrifice.... Here then is a legend that
in Egypt a human victim was annually sacrificed to prevent the failure of the crops, and
a belief is implied that an omission of the sacrifice would have entailed a recurrence of
that infertility which it was the object of the sacrifice to prevent.... In the light of the
foregoing discussion the Egyptian tradition of Busiris admits of a consistent and fairly
probable explanation. ·Osiris, the corn-spirit, was annually represented at harvest by a
stranger, whose red hair made him a suitable representative of the ripe corn. This man, in
his representative ~haracter, was slain on the harvest-field, and mourned by the reapers,
who prayed at the same time that the corn-spirit might revive and return . . . with re-
newed vigour in the following year. Finally, the victim, or some part of him, was burned,
and the ashes scattered by winnowing-fans over the fields to fertilise them. 51
Thus the scene under discussion here may be the earliest representation of the myth
of Osiris in a form that connects it with the magic of fertilization.
This quite possible interpretation is unsatisfactory because it has no bearing in relation
to other signs. From the fact that a small percentage of the bodies of the . dead were dis-
membered we have inferred that there .was another kind of ritual killing,. also closely con-
nected with assuring fertility of the soil and of humans-the killing of the "divine king." If
the slaying represented in the present scene were of this character, not only would our
previous working hypothesis be verified, but the scene would also supply a necessary link
in a systematic pictur.e of neolithic Egyptian ideology. But how can we explain the striking
differences between the two men? We know the small, long-haired man from a vessel
illustrated by Ayrton and Loat [XVII, 4], on which he is also represented as having no
arms, although it might be supposed that he would need arms to hold the shackled hippo-
potamus, whose chain hangs in the air. In the light of our explanation of the signification of
the hippopotamus (p . .98), the man in that scene was probably performing certain well-
defined functions relating to the cult of the dead. He may be present in the same capacity
here, and we may ask whether the long hair is not a ritual wig rather than a racial identifica-
tion. The same reasoning applies to the circumstance that he is armless.
We still need to consider the different ways in which the lower parts of the two men's
bodies are drawn: the legs of the killer are made by means of straight strokes, but the slain
man's legs are covered with short horizontal lines over their entire length. The most natural
assumption is that the legs of the divine king were tied to prevent him from escaping; on
119
bodies in the graves, the "mutilations" are likewise predominantly on the legs. The wrapping
of mummies may derive from this custom of ritual tying; similarly, the later practice of
opening the mouth of the corpse may derive from an earlier practice of killing by strangu-
lation. The short hair and the feather headdress of the tall man would in that case symbolize
a political function (and would give special significance to the feathers occasionally found
in the graves).
The assumption that the different garbs stand for different functions pertaining to a
socioreligious institution of the greatest importance, would imply that there were two focal
figures o( power in prehistoric Egypt-the prince and the magician. It is conceivable that
the prince was charged with all the magic functions relating to economic and social life,
and the magician with those relating to the dead. As applying to a cult of the dead developed
specifically on behalf of the ruling class, such a supposition is not implausible. A division of
the spheres of power would help to guarantee the independence of those classes of the
population that were delegating their magic powers. This hypothesis is compatible with the
character of the ornamentation of the epoch, in so far as it shows no trace of the existence
of slavery, which is, however, clearly indicated in the ornamentation of the Third Culture.
Incidentally, the two interpretations~i. e., the racial and the socioreligious-are not
necessarily contradictory. It is conceivable that the immigrant race, having conquered the
country and won political po_wer, took over the magic functions relating to the procure-
ment of food, while the natives retained the magic functions relating to death and afterlife.
Possibly also, the originally racial distinctions in garb developed into a socioreligious
differentiation. If so, the ritual killing of the divine king wol,lld mark the limits of the
assimilation of the two races and power groups. There would arise also the question whether
the animal-star cult existed when the conquerors arrived, and whether the latter made an
adaptation by developing an astral cult projected in an abstract style. But such intricate
chronological problems cannot be clarified by analysis of a single late example of represen-
tational method.
In the technical aspect, the solid-figure style is characterized by a solid filling of portions
of the figure with white, thus concealing the background surface; In the picture under
discussion, it is the upper part of a human figure that is thus covered. The Jegs are repre-
sented by twQ lines joined by a chain of angles. Since the positioning of the s~lid portion
over the line-drawn part produces an effect of heaviness, we are confronted here with the
first of the relatively rare instances in the history of art in which a heavier element is
represented as resting upon a lighter, which is contrary to the law of gravity (cf. the Palace
of the Doges-in Venice). This gives the impression of a miracle, i. e., there is mystery about
what makes such a structure possible, or its seeming impossibility is emphasized-in other
words, it is based on an arbitrary though controlled play between the ideas of cause and effect.
In a world manipulated by magic, a miracle ca signify only that the magician's means
and ends have become inadequate to the purposes of society. The same inadequacy is dis-
closed in the sacrifice, particularly when the individual in charge of the magic forces
relating to the real world becomes the object of sacrifice at the hands of the individual in
charge of the magic forces relating to the nonreal afterlife. Originally, as said, the separa-
tion of functions may have served as a safeguard against social and political abuses on the
120
part of the rulers, but ultimately it reveals the collapse of the dominant ideology. For a
magic thaf no longer helps man to dominate his world, but instead compels him to make
human sacrifices to mysterious natural forces, has become superstition-in this case a super-
stition that the ruling groups themselves were compelled to discard.
It is not by chance that human figures appear on Amratian vases only at the end of a
long development. All of the styles of ornamentation evolved in this society were based on
the ideological premise that the forms used were not direct representations of real objects,
did not express the experiences of the real world, but indirectly expressed the phenomena
of a transcendental world. The signs, whether they derived from intimations of a tran-
scendental world, or from qualities of things of the real world, which was conceived as
a manifestation of the elan vital of the cosmic forces, in every instance denoted a tran-
scendental reality. The idea of an afterlife ~s a star in ~he heavens offered the first form in
which man could conceive transcendence. And so long as he believed that he could bridge
the gap between earth and the transcendental world by magic means, he was the master of
the signs and not in his own person a sign. He could become a sign only when society was
no longer confident of its ability to control the magic means, and for the sake of its own
security made the magician himself a sign of the trans~endental character of natural forces.
This development marked the end of the Amratian culture, which declined as a result of
the conflicts inherent in it.
On the economic plane these conflicts manifested themselves in the fact that the once
fluid balance between a number of relatively independent occupations broke down under
the preponderance of agriculture, owing not to the development of tools, but rather to the
process of political organization. On the sociopolitical plane the stresses manifested them-
selves in the fact that society delegated its magic powers to one or two magicians under its
control, i. e., whose failure it punished by death. Thus an antagonism arose either between
the two camps of magicians or between the sociopolitical and the ideological function of
the princes, who were compelled to resolve the impasse at the expense of their own lives
and power.
On the psychological plane the conflicts probably manifested themselves in the fact
that the individual, under the impact of the changing general conditions, was unable to
integrate his disparate desires, feelings, and ideas. Just as the several productive classes
expressed themselves separately and were able to represent their unity only in a syncretistic
style, so the individual, it must be assumed, had great difficulty in achieving a synthesis
between sense and intellect, between intellect and emotion. This led him to project into
the outer world the psychic process that could not achieve its goal, i. e., to compensate his
lack of internal unity by an external synthesis. But the rulers, who might have helped in
this external integration, were impeded by ideological and sociopolitical factors.
On the purely ideological plane, the fundamental conflicts of the epoch manifested
themselves in the combination of magic and sacrifice. For even if the sacrifice was meant
to be a transference spell, the fact that it was a human sacrifice, offered not to appease the
dead but to propitiate "unknown cosmic forces, destroyed the premise of all magic: the will
to dominate the world was replaced by the will to submit to natural forces-and this
at a time when every harvest contradicted belief in the conservation of magic forces.
121
Thus it came about that magic, driven out of the sphere of life and production, sought
refuge more and more in the sphere of death, and in the latter, according to the evidence
of the graves, was upheld by. women more than by men.
On the artistic plane, the conflicts were manifested in the existence of a variety of
styles tending toward a syncretistic blending. This did not eliminate the duality of outline
and filling_but rather stressed it. It weakened the duality of geometric form and natural
form but did not master it.
In all fields, man sought to integrate a multiplicity of conflicting factors, but the varying
determinants and purposes of each factor prevented him from achieving unity. Thus unity
and perpetuity were transferred to a transcendental world, while on earth the conflicting
factors tended toward and at the same time undermined any opportunistic reconciliation.
It was the gap between the earthly world of life and the transcendental world of an afterlife
in death that had to be eliminated, and the neolithic Egyptians tried to void it not by
renouncing ·transcendence but by bridging the gap with a path. To build a bridge to the
transce11dental, and thus to establish unity in their world, became the principal task of the
people of the Third Culture.
The White-incrustated_Pottery
[xxv]
Before discussing the Gerzean civilization, it is in order to describe a type of black
pottery that does not belong to any specific prehistoric culture but occurs in all of them,
beginning with that of T asa, where it was brought in, along with the incrustation technique,
by the invader folk. Examples have been discovered only in some of the graves, and always
as single specimens, a fact suggesting that the vessels were connected with a specific grolJp
of people and specific a'ttitudes. These people may have been the conservatives among the
immigrants, those who clung to their own tradition and withdrew from a world in conflict.
This may best explain why the original beaker form of the vessels-which was used to
imitate in clay the shapes of earlier bronze vessels-was given up, although new forms were
not developed. At the same time, the ornamentation was endlessly complicated, refined,
and feminized, as is usual in inbreeding.
The social basis of this art may also he traced in the light of the significance of the
technique and colors in terms of magic. All of ·the pottery discussed to this point was
produced without the use of the characteristic implements of the given period, just as
modern wor1>s of art can be produced without machines; in the epochs under discussion,
pottery was always made by hand. The white coloring matter was not actually a paint hut
hone meal, 52 probably made from the hones of slain enemies; in order that this material
should adh.ere, the incision had to he deep, irregular, and rough-surfaced. It was made by
means of a pointed stone. ) perception of drawing and background no longer takes place. T hree angles in a circle do
If white was the color of the Upper Egyptian royal crown because those who made the
choice were blond or because, being herdsmen, they considered the color of milk particularly
significant, it might he surmised that the black vase color had an association with the
complexion of the Nuhians. Junker observes that nonincised black pots are particularly
frequent in the south near the old Nuhi~n frontier, and they are the only kind found in
122
\
Tasa. It inay be inferred that the black-topped ware that appears first in Badari (it is
entirely absent in northern Egypt) and that is technically explained as produced by a
special kind of firing, was a victory token of the Nubians, who had forced their modes on
the Badarians (if this holds, the blacking of the rim would be ascribable to the practices of
the conquerors in the domains of both pottery technique and magic). The Badarians
retained it not only for.reasons of taste but possibly also in the spirit in which invidious epithets
are defiantly appropriated by the derided group ( e. g., les G ueux).
· When the soldiers of the new tribal princes defeated the Nubians, they adopted the
black vase color of the latter only because they were in position to superimpose their own
victory token upon it- the white color. The act of imposing the white color upon the black
reproduced the real war situation: wounds were inflicted on the black clay body, and the
white filling was laid into the gashes. Plain daubing would have been too bland, and the
material to be laid on would not have adhered firmly enough to the vessel (the adversary) .
Possibly this martial ass-ociation led to an attribution of magic potency to this ware, and this
may explain its presence throughout Egyptian prehistory.
When we examine the vessels illustrated by Petrie, excluding all hypotheses as to
their social and political background, which cannot be adequately explained, we can at
once distinguish two groups. The first is characterized by motifs taken from the two linear
styles; the second reveals new motifs, considerably more complex in structure and more
refined in execution. The old motifs are the dots, angles, and derived forms, such as triangles,
lozenges, etc. The two basic motifs representing the alternation of death and life- the one
of warrior and the other of cultivator origin-are retained. The essential stylistic changes are:
1. Cumulation of parallel angles is quite rare. The spaces within the angles are no
longer filled with lines- these are reserved for outlines- but with dot or comma forms. These
are placed in no relation to the outline and follow the principle of cumulation. Thus a duality
of outline and filling is retained, as in the crotchet style. The vitality of the animal forms now
appears to inhere in the vigor of the technical device. But the ideological difference seems
greater: the spells no longer concentrate on the polarities represented in the ideas of man
.. and woman, death and life, earth and heaven, or the intermediate forces in each case-in
other words, the focus of interest is no longer the process of production but only its results.
This seems to be in line with the almost general absence of the central ring and of all forms
indicating a relation between the circle of the earth and that of heaven ( e. g., stars).
2. The static regularity of geometric forms, equality of parts, and rigid symmetrical
arrangements are largely avoided. T he implied axis is banned, positional symmetry occurs
rarely. The artistic value of the resulting motifs no longer derives from the autonomy and
law of the geometric structure, but from the energy of the outlines or of the incisions, an
energy based on the arbitrary factor of human effort.
3. The negative form between drawn elements becomes meaningless; simultaneous
not produce a Y-form, or if they do it is a very irregular one [XXVI, 1 o] . Similarly, six
angles do not form a star but merely three intersecting open paths. Artistically, the duality
of outline and filling is now accompanied ·by a duality of drawing and surface, and a new
decorative principle appears- alternation of white stripes and black background (which may
have originated in T asa). As a result, qualitatively different elements, often quantitatively
123
 equal, form a sequence without plastic unity. The ideological meaning of this may be that
the artist has lost the sense of the challenging contrast of earth and heaven.
4. A fundamental change appears as regards the proportion between ornament and
vessel. In all white-painted pottery there is a considerable difference in size as between the
ornamental pattern and the surface area of the vessel. The design elements remain relatively
small lines or groups of lines (angles), and no group ever covers the whole length or breadth
of the pot. In the incised pottery the linear element is either replaced by the dot, which does
not offer any basis for dimensional comparison, or by the band, which spreads over the
entire vessel, establishing the impression fundamentally that it is longer than the span of
surface it covers. This is achieved technically by means of breaks, turns, or a structureless
stroke; the result is always that the ornament emphatically dominates the vessel. The orna-
ment becomes more vital ~han the vessel, and vitality itself changes-from the significance of a
quality to that of a quantity. Ideologically this means that the protagonists of this art freed
their energies from the limitations imposed by their. ties to nature and society, and enhanced
by overcompensation the sham of increased energy arising from their isolation.
5. The formal means of filling the surface within the outline of the ornament are varied:
there are weak, formless scratches, slanting, comma-like strokes, thick, wcdgelike dots, dots
similar to the earlier ones representing grain, angles. This diversity shows that concern with
the specific meaning of the single element as such was superseded by play with technical
· possibilities, that. energy, thus emphasized, was now directed not to representation of a
meaningfol world but to unrestrained play with the potentialities of the existing implements.
The principle of self-sufficiency and the equation of form with meaning-the two basic
premises of all other neolithic Upper Egyptian styles-are given up for the sake of a goal that .
deprives the representational means of all value of their own, because the goal itself is no
long~r a precise one: it is only that of a general expression of conflictless, self-glorifying
energy.
This same playful technical spirit, the mark of a group freed from any connection with
material production and social tensions, changes the motifs taken over from earlier styles.
Such motifs recur in numbers, but all of them undergo changes in accordance with the
principles instanced above. Triangles placed near outline strokes are often separated from
one another; this reflects an enhancement of the emphasis on individual life, but it blurs
the idea of the transition from death to life and voids potential star formations; three triangles
with apexes meeting do not form stars because of their marked inequality. The three inter-
secting branches of Badari become a tall cross. Diagonal bands filled with dots, as first found
in Tasa, occur, here on a vessel with a lid. The ,lozenges produced as negative forms between
intersecting angles, as well as the c-hessboard pattern, are probably taken over from the red-
decorated ware of the Gerzean period. The double rectangular frame of the syncretistic
style ( lnl) occurs apart from representations of animals; the inner space is filled with dots
elongated into strokes, and this very vigorous, expd ssive motif is alternated several times
with a similar background figure. The originally flexible form is here tautened into a strictly
geometric motif and thus adapted to expression of a great though unfocused pervasive energy.
This borrowing from all the cultures clearly reveals. that the artists concerned were
unable to develop a world of forms of their own, ,bccause, having given over social tics and
content, they were reduced to mere assertion of energy. But since this energy was not
.I 24
sufficiently rooted in social reality, it necessarily deferred to complications and refinements;
these. appear in the forming of the outlines, in the relation of ornament to background, in the
differentiation ·of the lines, and above all in the technique. The most advanced patterns have
the character of delicate feminine needlework [XXVI, 11-1 5]; the end result of this style is
a formless feminine quality, as far from the mystical preoccupation that dominates the
feminine crosslined style as it is frdm the genuine strength of the masculine geometric style.
We behold here not the feminine counterpart to the masculine, but the complete feminization
of the masculine element. The masculine mentality bred of leisure seeks after complications.
What is perhaps a transitional motif is supplied by the ornamentation of a vessel in the
Metropolitan Museum of Art. The complicated winding design can have no possible
meaning but that of playful activity or perhaps of a purely capricious rebus. A meaning of
this sort is clearly recognizable in another ornament [XXVI, 12]. A band with a triple bend
is traced around the rim of the vessel; in the middle of it is a one-1egged, highly stylized
animal, intended perhaps to represent a corn spirit in a field full of movement. In a simple,
shallow cup with a very complicated decoration [XXV I, 1 3] , the circular d~sign is divided
into four sectors by axes at right angles to each other; the diagonally opposite sectors are
treated identically. W ithin the circle is traced another, with a radius of more than one half
of that of the first, and the four sectors produced by its diameters are alternately filled and
empty. The circular field between the two rings is treated to effect a contrast; the segments
above empty sectors of the inner circle are filled, and those above filled sectors are empty.
This is a rhythmic complication that masks all the purely geometric relations, such as axial
J- orientation, concentricity, etc. The impression is one of infinite multiplication and nonde-
terminateness, a mixture of mathematically static form and glimmering, diffuse mobility of
surface. ·
This style reaches its apotheosis when it becomes technically possible to make hair
strokes by incision. The earlier vessels of this type were incised by means of a pointed stone
or bone before they were fired, when the clay was only half set. The incisions on the vessel
shown in plate XXVI, figure 1 5, were probably made with a copper implement. These in-
cisions form sequences of pairs of lines composed of dots and waves, and the paralleled pairs
of lines form numerous cumulations of angles; some of the angles are made into lozenges. A
contrast arises between the upper and lower portions, as regards height, manner of the stroke,
rhythm of filled and empty areas, and above all as regards the possibility of grasping visually
the number of the elements-so that the general impression, despite the symmetry of the
design, is an arbitrarily sensuous one. The prerequisite fo+ the complication of ornament is,
as has been said, the playfulness of the idle, whose sexuality is a function of their inactivity.
This leads to a sensibility that is the opposite and end of all martial virtues. T he implication
of a magic of destruction originally inherent in the sharp incisions is lost in this triumph of
the effeminate. It should be recalled that effeminacy and debilitation marked a considerable
number of the foreign rulers of Egypt. Inferentially the dominant group in prehistoric times
were likewise conquering foreigners, since all of the. black ware with white incrustation was
brought in during the T asa period.
It can be shown that the evolution of the stone vase follows the same path as that of the
clay ware. At first stone of homogeneous color, such as basalt, marble, and limestone, was ·
employed predominantly; at a very early date varicolored stone, such as granite, porphyry,
125
 serpentine, steatite, breccia, etc., came into use. Two different tendencies in working stone
can be distinguished.
One of these trends is to produce contrasts exploiting the physical differences- con-
trasts between the irregular, fortuitous, hit-and-miss position of detail elements and the
geometric regularity of the form as a whole, between the accidental and the determined,
between the small, the defined, the fragile on the one hand and the massive and re'sistant
on the other, between brilliance and dullness, coldness and warmth, the transient and the
eternal. At the same time the idea of the strength of the material is enhanced, fully actualized
throughout, and the effect of bulk is increased in order to secure the vessel, so to speak,
against appearing to be only a convex surface. Dramatic stresses are worked out from the
character of the material, yet the material remains supreme as the entity that bears these
tensions within itself.
The second tendency produces a play of color and form spreading over a thin but self·
sufficient surface. Color conceals all contrasts. The emphasis on substance gives way to the
interplay of color and lii;ie. The material is worked in such a way that all the natural spatial
effects resulting from the diversities of color, the differences of coldness and warmth, etc.,
disappear. Material and representational means are thus so wedded that everything extracted
from the colorful texture seems to be design, and everything that has the effect of design
seems to be a character of the essential material. Every vestige of the original stresses an~ con.,.
· trasts is merged in a pleasing homogeneity without physical or spiritual depth. This surface
leaves no room for any affect of fear that might extend to the inner vacuum of the vessel;
owing to its necrological associations; there is an effect of lightness that seems to make the
vessel vibrate in space.
Like the wpite-incrustated black clay vessels, the stone vessels persisted as late· as the
period of red decoration, since the latter often imitates the patterns of the stone vases. Ans!
it may very well be that in regard to both types the relative isolation of the conquering
princes from the popular culture furthered the fairly rapid degeneration.
126
CHAPTER IV
THE THIRD CULTURE
WHILE the First Culture was purely local and the Second Culture regional, the Third
Culture extended throughout both Lower and Upper Egypt. In early times the differences
between localities, even between communities situated fairly close to one another, were very
great, as regards not only pottery but also general social organization; it would appear that
communication was scant and that each settlement had a self-sufficient economy. Later, as a
result of conquest and increasing occupational specialization, settlements of varying size and
· wealth united. Their diverse local traditions combined into a culture that probably extended
far into the south, beyond the limits of the political domain of the alliance.
It seems that Lower Egypt was not deeply influenced by the Second Culture; it may
be conjecture~ that the conquerors invaded Middle Egypt, probably in the region of Coptos,
and that their main forces turned southward. As a result the cultural gap between Lower
and Upper Egypt widened, while that between Upper Egypt and Nubia diminished. This
testifies to the dominant role played by the conquerors in the formation of the Second
Culture. The invaders were not savage hordes falling upon a relatively civilized population.
Their coming meant a meeting of two different cultures that complemented and fertilized
each other. The limits of the assimilation of the two groups and of the ideology of the new
mixed culture became manifest only after the struggle had been fought through to the end.
While this process was taking place in Upper Egypt, the culture of Lower Egypt was
riot stagnant; but the few known vestiges of the period show that the development was
sluggish and assumed forms different from those that evolved in the south. The emergence of
a new culture common to both lands raises the question of whether it arose (a) as a result
of internal processes in the Upper Egyptian culture, or (b) from the struggle between Upper
and Lower Egypt, or (c) under pressure of external influences growing out of extension of
trade or new invasions. Or did all of these three factors operate together?
If we seek an answer to these questions in the pottery of the Third Culture, we find first
that it differs strikingly from the Amratian pottery in treatment of material, in form and
color, and in content and style of ornamentation. Such a difference could come about only
in the wake of a great social and political upheaval involving a change in the entire ideology
of the population. Did this revolution come from inside or outside, or were both internal and
external fac_tors involved?
Let us first consider the material and the· technical treatment. The polished red color
has disappeared, and the material once more stands forth in its essence. It is more refined,
more evenly kneaded, absolutely homogeneous, without admixture of sand or chaff, fired to
the point of brittleness. The characteristic intermediate quality that marked the smooth
ware- the state between original dampness and the dryness obtained by firing- is absent.
The substance is quite dense, yet weightless in appearance; the surface is given the value of
a specific kind of immateriality. The reddish-white or yellowish color of the new material,
127
,
 with its dark-red decoration, acquires a directly emotional expressive value, because the
painting is laid on in such a way that it gradually grows fainter and almost vanishes, leaving
no more than a breath on the material.
Behind this technical and artistic change there probably lay a social transformation. The
representational means created by the Badarians and developed by the Amratians, which
concealed the material from the eye, served chiefly the ostentational purposes of a specific
social group, and the emotional expression entirely depended upon these purposes. In the
Gerzean pottery, the emotional expression achieved in the material is itself representative of
a class. The difference is .decisive. A ruling class can express itself with playful detachment;
a group that has not yet achieved dominance can express its~lf only in terms of feelings that
it clings to as its morality. It is quite possible that the relation between material, representa-
tional means, and expressional means in art follows a general law.
Just as the substance of the Gerzeari pots is immaterialized through the effect of brittle-
ness of surface and a diminuendo of color, so all that remains of the form and especially of the
linear-plastic outline of the smooth ware is a revolving surface without suggestion of stop or
support or of tactual outline- i. e., the opposite of a silhouette, which is outline without
interior form. This is not an articulated unity in which dimensional and directional elements
are not yet sufficiently contrasted, but a fusion of articulations, contrived to escape the un-
certainty inherent in the presence of numerous creative potentialities. The artistic approach
becomes completely heteronomous with the voiding of all intrinsic relation between precision
of form and the material, between the inertia (static character) of the separate areas and the
movement of the surface as a whole. It was this interplay that produced in the smooth
vessels ~ specific, mathematical-material expression. ·The contrastless surface of the Gerzean
pottery immaterializes both matter and form, and the vessel, despite its frequently capacious
shape, acquires an effect of completely unreal being. But since at the same time form for its
part shows new articulations (handles, rolled rims, etc.), this lack of contrasts is a late m~Iii­
f estation, an expression of will to conceal workmanship in order that the emotional expression
should appear free of any material basis.
There is a feeling of separateness as between the bright, cold color of the material and
the dark, warm coloring of the ornamentation. The surface runs through under the ornamen-
tation; the decorative device seems detached from the vessel, stands out from it as the only
reality, I}Ot in what it presents to the eye, but in the meaning it reveals to metaphysical per-
ception. The visual elements of the ornamentation are multiple and diverse; they cannot be
seen as an entirety or synthesized by anticipative imagination into a visual unity. They are
only restatements of a given meaning in variant forms. While the_repetition of forms of birds,
animals, bo;ts, oars, triangles, etc., may represent vestiges of a belief in magic, the magic
sign is in general replaced by figures that are to be interpreted symbolically.
As distinct from the purposes of pureJy artistic form, the sign and symbol embody mean-
ings different from their ostensible ones, and they ate meanings referable to another world.
· The sign is transparent and reveals what it means; the symbol is opaque and conceals what
it means. In other words, a ~ystem of signs is self-evident as soon as the principle rationalizing
its transcendental connotations is understood; and the quality of being self-evident is a large
factor in compelling belief. The symbol, on the other hand, is understandable only to the
initiated, not through mediation of t_he senses or the intellect, but through that of faith, and
128
thus has the relativity of the temporal. The sign can be handled by every individual of a
given society, while the symbol must be interpreted by the specialist.
We are now in a world that has become indifferent to the old tensions, while the new
dualities have a tensionless character-in a late world of restless passivity. The technique used
in the manufacture of the.vessels reflects this spiritual ambivalence, because the workmanship
is concealed in the substance, while the painted ornamentation is obtrusively stressed. W ere _
there even then painters of vases as a craft distinct from that of the potters? Did both work
predominantly to produce articles for trade? The character of the ware approximates that
of a conventional, standardized product, but there are two kinds of vessels, the one type
larger and more refined, the other cheaper and coarser. Both, however, were used by people
who made a clear distinction between everyday life and ceremonial occasions, and who lived
under a ruling group- that is, between two other social strata. A conscious orientation to the
attitudes of the upper class is revealed in the attempt to imitate the forms and surfaces of the
stone vases used only by the rulers [XXVII, 1]. Imitation of art as the principle of a craft
appears here for the first time, never to disappear; it is an obvious expression of class envy.
In the first period of the Gerzean civilization, art became separated from practical life ·
and put its material directly in service to religious needs; at the end of the prehistoric period,
practical life parted from all spirituality, both artistic and religious, and confined itself to
purely utilitarian goals. The general carelessness of execution in the late period indicates that
even the wish to synthesize matter and spirit, purpose and form, had disappeared. Pottery is
now nothing but a craft; the vessels are merchandise, satisfying an abstract need- i. e., a need
no longer directly connected with primary production. Pottery making and storing of agri-
cultural products have become separated.
Pottery making originatea in a living unity of settled life, agriculture, and provident
economy; it was the artistic expression of that unity.But now this unity, along with its internal
contrasts, has disintegrated. In its place we have pottery as a mass product turned out by
specialized craftsmen; it is ordered and bought by masters who store only wealth, not goods.
The potters no longer make utensils for themselves; they produce commodities for others
and are sedentary only in the sense that they are.attached to a locale, without having a direct
relation to the soil. In so far as the vessels reflect this new world, it cannot be said that they
are expressionless. They express a time, however, in which economic activity has split into
a laboring element and an accumulating .element: the former is subordinated to the latter and
therefore subjected to political domination in such a way that it deliberately renounces the
creation of an artistic form that would reflect its own acti_vities and aspirations. Clay is no
longer a medium of artistic expression, because it is no longer adequate for expressing the
vital interests of the new society. .
The successive stages o( pottery making thus show that a definite socio-economic con-
dition committed the artist to a material adequate for expressing its spirit. Gradually this
spirit became more conscious in him as the material and its form became autonomous by
reason of it, and later this spirit began to free itself from the tie to matter as religious spirit.
Gradually material production as a whole was separated from creative art, so that the clay
was handled without any will to form.
However great the differences between the Amratian and Gerzean pottery may seem
at first sight, an analysis of the burial customs shows that there was no fundamental break
1 29
with the past. The graves are oval or rectangular as of old; slowly a wall recess is introduced,
and only a few graves of late date have clay-lined walls. The size differences among the graves
show that there were social differentiations on the basis of wealth. Most important is the
persistence of the practice of giving the bodies a south-north orientation, with the eyes facing
westward; as in earlier times, they lie on the left side, with the hands covering the eyes. The
reverse orientation-with the head to the north and the eyes facing eastward- which was the
usual one in dynastic times, is found only in isolated instances, showing that the local customs
of some groups persisted even in the period that became the formative stage of an imperial
civilization; Furthermore, the only double graves found contain in each instance a woman
and child; since the child's body is not always that of a newborn infant, the question arises
whether children were considered the property of their mothers and in certain circumstances
had to follow them to the grave. Love for children and child mortality continued to be very
great. As in earlier times, some corpses were mutilated for ceremonial purposes.
Conservatism in convention and practice seems td be considerably on the increase, be-
cause exceptions in any of the arrangements above described are rare, especially as regards the
position of the corpses. Nevertheless, changes appear in the appurtenances of the dead:
combs, skins, and woven reeds are absent, and the slate palette appears in· a degenerated
version, while the number of amulets and beads is markedly greater than in earlier periods.
Regarding the di~appearance of combs, Petrie has expressed the opinion that the style of
coiffure may have changed and that standards in relation to care of the body may have
lowered. This assumption, in view of the improvements in technique and the increase in the
number of stone vases, which were expensive and difficult to produce, could hold only with
reference to a part of the population, whose standard of living may have declined precisely
because that of the other part rose. But since all objects given to the deceased had a double
purpose-i. e., they reproduced the environment of his life on earth and served as instruments
of magic in his afterlife- it may be surmised that combs came into disuse in the Gerzean
period because of their earlier magic meaning. The amulets, found in numbers, are instru-
ments of defensive magic apparently superseding the instruments of active magic. It would
seem that there were beginning to appear within the cult of the dead, which was retained
in a spirit of narrow-minded and stubborn conservatism, new forms of faith that had a social
cause, namely, the fact that one section of the population was reduced in status to permit of
the rise of another section.
This general background of conservative evolution is relevant in a detailed analysis of
the pottery of the period [X, XI]. Two main groups of vessels can be distinguished. The
first comprises the two chief old types of ware, the black-topped red pots and the polished
red vessels; the second comprises, in addition to the rough ware, the new forms of red-
decorated ware.
In the black-topped group, calotte-shaped low c,,11ps, with either contracted or expanded
rims, are still in use, as well as low cups with flat bottoms and almost straight walls, in which
there is merely a slight reduction of scale. Among the beakers [X, l-4], so typical for the
Amratian period, the moderately high forms persist in greater number than the tall shapes,
and among the latter there is a greater number of broad than of slender forms. In other
words, a marked differentiation between base and rim, with a considerable broadening of
the latter, is favored, and this is in line with the general taste of t,he period. V ases, which arc
taller than beakers, and .have convex lateral surfaces, are found in larger numbers than the
latter. Here again the preferred forms are those with narrow base and maximum curvature
near the top. The more a form approximates the type in which the bulge is only somewhat
above the midpoint of the height and in which the base and rim lines are equal, the earlier
does it disappear. The ·selection favors a single main .type that is found in the decorated as
well as in the rough ware.
Bottles of the black-topped ware, even in the Amratian versions, suffer from a contra-
diction in form. The concave curve of the neck, which extends the convex curve of the
bulge to suggest the outflowing movement of the content, is at the same time pre-empted
by the black rim, which has a closing-off effect. T he means used in the Second Culture to
overcome this contradiction was to place the bulge as low as possible, to make the concavity
proportionate to the convexity, and to make the black rim slanting instead of horizontal. In
the Third CU:lture, an opposite means is used. T he bulge is placed fairly high a~d its curve
is now turned in; the neck is made as low as possible and its concavity is maximally contracted;
finally, the black rim is set horizontally above the bulge, so that the opening of the neck and
the shutting-off effect of the black rim present an extreme contrast. Thus the two functions
of the bottle-the containing of a liquid, and the pouring of it-are sharply contrasted; the
mediate idea of flow is eliminated, as well as the relative harmony of the component parts
and the trend to autonomy in the form as a whole.
In addition, two new features are introduced in the black-topped ware. First, the
base is contracted, eventually to a point. The Amratian vessel of this ware always had a
base that it could stand on, probably because it served chiefly for storing liquids and for
drinking; the new pointed base makes the vessel completely unsuitable for these purposes,
but it is in line with the new taste, as will be seen later. The second innovation is a rolled
rim. Since the function of the black rim was to terminate the form of the vessel, this innova-
tion shows that the aesthetic meaning of this treatment of the rim was no longer understood, or
was no longer felt to be sufficient to suggest the function of the vessel as a container. T his
is particularly apparent wherever the inturning curve of the wall is joined to the rim by a
markedly low concavity.
In the polished red group the low vessels-both the calotte-shaped type and those with
flat base and almost straight wall- suffer approximately the same fate as the corresponding
forms in the black-topped ware; only a few types-and these . of the broader variety- are
retained, particularly those in which there is a contrast of narrow base and broad opening, i. e.,
in which a large expanse surmounts a small area, which accords with the general taste of
the period [X, 5 et seq.] . The forms of nearly quadratic and tall-rectangular section dis-
appear. Bottles are retained partly in their old form, probably because of its usefulness. New
forms show the changes described above. The type that is most completely discarded is the
slender vase with convex-concave outline that was the representative form of the Amratian
culture, especially in the white-ornamented pottery (syncretistic style). In this instance the
social and ideological basis of the change is clear: a ruling class with a definite ideology is
being pushed out or eliminated. The extent of this movement is disclosed by analysis of the
incised drawings (p. 146).
One slender type survives [X, l l ] , but its wall outline now consists of a shallow con-
13 1
vexity followed by a very low and relatively deep concavity. The principle of developing
one curve from another and of balancing them in relation to a vertical axis is completely
abandoned in favor of a sharply accented disproportion and an artificial juncture. Spontane-
ous development of oppositions into autonomous form is replaced by arbitrary and paradox-
ical contrast. · are about equal [XI, _12-14]. The bulge is usually placed high, though it is sometimes at
Vessels with inturning wall curves are found only in the polished red ware. In some,
base and rim lines are almost equal; in others there .fs a marked inequality of these dimensions.
In the former group, the bulge is either introduced only a little above the middle, so that
the contrasts are largely blurred, or it is placed very high, i. e., the contrasts are strongly
stressed, as always where the base is decidedly differentiated from the rim. The difference is
then exaggerated till the base becomes simply a point, just as in the black-topped ware. The
vessel can no longer stand of itself; and this is only another expression of the heteronomy
that has come to characterize the general ideology of the Gerzean period.
An entirely new type is that of the broad-bellied vessel [X, 12- 14] in which the section
is sometimes an all but circular form (an ellipse based on its side); sometimes it is a tall ellipse,
either very broad or tapered completely to a point at the lower end. This is formless move-
ment rather than dynamic form. Contrasts and relation to an axis have disappeared. It is as
though a secondary type associated with the rough ware had invaded the red polished cate-
gory, which was once the best among all the groups. In the larger sizes it has an intrinsic
formlessness, like an inflated balloon. This is the triumph of heteronomy in form.
Our analysis of the black-topped and the red polished ware thus shows that while color
effect was preserved, form was subjected to principles of selection and change that do not
derive from the nature of the ware and are often contradictory to it. But the determining
ideological trend is most clearly Tevealed in the forms of the decorated vessels [XI, 12-20].
Apart from the low vessels with rounded base, which in form and also to some degree
in decoration tend most to imitate the stone vases- this is another instance of heteronomous
trend in the domain of pottery form- we find two major types, namely, vases with broadly
curved sides-and vases with slightly .curved sides. In the first type the forms correspond to
two sectional schemes: that of the quasi-square and that of the tall rectangle ( 2: 3). In
both cases, the base is straight and the width of the bulge is at least equal to the width of the
base plus the width of the rim; usually it exceeds this sum. The variations relate first to the
base-rim ratio; when the base is perceptibly smaller than the rim, the ratio of the base to the
width of the bulge shifts ( 1: 2 Yz, 1: 3 Yz). Second, the bulge is placed somewhat above the
middle or very high; near the opening. There are two possible extreme variants. In one the
height-width proportion is that of a square [XI, 18], base and -rim are approximately equal,
and the bulge is more or less at midheight; the result is a restful form lacking any internal
contrast-its section is a square contra.cted at top and bottom by about one half. The other ex-
treme variant [XI, 16], of tall-rectangular proportyms, has strongly differentiated base and
rim lines, and bulge placed very high, notably overhanging the narrow base.
Both these types are found in the Fayum at least in germ; the second variant in par-
ticular represents the fulfillment of an idea only intimated in the F ayum- that of placing a
broad, heavy mass over a narrow, light portion, i. e., the notion of playing with the law of
gravity. Since this form bespeaks the selection that determined the type survivals in the
polished red and the black-topped ware, this fact that its origin is traceable to the Fayum is of
special significance.
The slightly bulging type (based on the 2: 3 or 3: 4 proportion) has a straight base
line; the width of the bulge measures less than the sum of the rim and base dimensions, which
midheight; then the pot seems barrel-like, particularly when the difference between height
and width is slight. The artistic expression inhering in these vessels is very vague and difficult
to grasp. There is an impression of a slight lift out of despair, a movement that is checked or
frustrated-of a state of dark and anxious uncertainty tempered by a modicum of hope im-
plied not in the form of the vessel but in its decoration.
The common feature of all these variants is that they show an inturning, markedly
contracted curve at the top. The rolled rim only enhances the suggestion of an inclosing
c;ir being in closed. The vessel produces a feeling that something is confined and uncertainly
suspended within it- at about the height of the-main portion of the decoration.
In the rough ware [XI, 1-8] we find the same two Fayum types and all their variants, a
proof that pottery was no longer the expressive medium of a ruling group still possessed of
artistic capacity- their artistry was now wholly centered on the stone vases-but was
relegated to a middle and a lower population group, differentiated on the basis of property,
who could display their wealth only through better execution and more elaborate decoration.
There is also a low vessel with flat base, concave sides, and strongly out.flung rim [X, 15].
Its origins were in northern Egypt, in Merimda; in the Gerzean culture its rim has a rolled
edge. The low vessel with convex wall and high, slightly contracted bulge originated in the
Amratian period at the latest. But the most frequent form is that with pointed bottom,
described above as among the new forms of polished red and black-topped ware [XI, 3-5].
Another variant of the suppositional archetype reflects a similar evolution from breadth
to slenderness. This variant can be conceived as derived from the convex type just mentioned
by elimination of the base and prolongation of the sides downward to convergence in a point
or slight boss. The shape of the broadest of these vessels approximates that of the heart
[XI, 3]; the narrowest -are funnel- or sword-shaped [XI, 5]. If the long, narrow neck is
reduced and the curve symmetrized, there arises a pure oval [XI, 4]. Significantly, this type
was never or only by way of exception decorated during the Gerzean period; this allows of
the inference that a flat base was indispensable in the red-decorated ware, i. e., that the vessel
was not used exclusively in graves. On the other hand, the pointing must have been con-
trived first in the new Gerzean and not in the old Amratian ware, probably for the sake of
economizing on material. Possibly the populace was growing poorer, or the burial customs
were beginning to spread to parts of the population that previously could not afford burial
rites. The latter conjecture seems confirmed by the finding of bottle forms taken over from
earlier ti~es, with the flat base now eliminated [XI, 6]. If this holds, the forms that served
the religious needs of the poorest classes influenced those of the formerly most powerful, now
powerless classes- an important counterpart to the opposite development, i. e., the pottery
imitations of the stone vases of the ruling class.
The Gerzean civilization is characterized less by a strong will to form than by concen-
tration on detail, as seen in its particular elaboration of rim and foot. In the cheap, rough
133
ware we have a rolled, slightly projecting rim; in the polished red and in the black-topped
ware, the wall is drawn out into a short convex-concave neck. The need.of a rolled rim is so·
strong that such a rim is used even where it is out of keeping with the form as a whole. This
must not be ascribed to mechanical imitation of the stone vases, for there is analogously in
weapons, utensils, and articles of adornment an increasing tendency to mark _the beginning
of the shank by a ridge on the body portion, and thus to suggest a firm and permanent con-
nection. This might be taken to evidence a more intensive kind of workmanship. The rim of
the vessel now plastically expresses the idea of termination that earlier was expressed only
by black coloring. Besides this differentiation, which is artistically questionable, there is a
further underlining of the idea of the end, of death, by a stressing of the terminal contraction.
Some forms show a relation to weapons. Thus, a lance shown by Petrie1 is quite similar in
shape to the vessel with pointed base; there are also analogies to a dagger pictured by the same
writer. 2 The fact that the artist's fantasy is preoccupied with weapons and not with tools is
significant. As an independent, specialized craftsman, he is positioned between the priests,
who prescribe the ornamentation, and the princes, whose arms constitute his only safeguard
against the domination of the priests.
The so-called wavy handle [XI, · 9-11] seems to me an evolution of the Merimda
handles illustrated by Junker. This would set aside all speculations referring it to a Syrian
origin, which are untenable from the standpoint of chronology. Further, the development
that Petrie regards as a continuity comprises in part an adjustment of the form and position
of the handle to the form of the vessel, and in part a later decorative utilization of older
handle types from cylindrical jars not found in the Gerzean civilization. Likewise, the ears
for attaching straps can be conceived as a development from the bore holes that served
this purpose in Merimda. That there is a fundamental even though remote connection be-
tween the Gerzean culture and the First Culture of Lower Egypt seems indisputable. ~ tendency toward a funnel shape. Clearly, collectiye storage of crops belonging to the com-
All the pottery of neolithic Egypt from the era of T asa to the end of the Amratian
culture constitutes a unitary group tending toward artistic independence and pcrfection.
In the Gerzean pottery, however, the elimination of the representational means, and the
reduction or discarding of all autonomous forms, began a process tending in the opposite
direction, which in the end did away with the principle that would have established separate
forms in the various categories of surviving ware. Likewise, the method of deriving variant
forms from an existing dominant form, according to defined principles, was abandoned.
Apart from the shapes that appear in bottles and in the imitations of stone vases, there seems
to be a never realized archetype from which the real forms are derived. There is a fluidity
of transition. reflecting all the possibilities; the creative fantasy aims not at firm and distinct
shape but at a form that either accentuates or blurs inherent contrasts. T he vessel loses all
autonomy, its physical definitiveness fades, and the functional expression dominates. The
earlier implication that each type exists for its own sake, and that each form is unique,
vanishes here; on the contrary, the shape represerlts only a mood, a means of expressing
metaphysical and religious values, and often does no more than to offer a surface to be
decorated. The value of the plastic form is relativized, as always happens when art becomes
the handmaiden of a transcendental religion.
Pottery supplies us with no more than an incomplete and one-sided picture of the period
following that of the G erzean civilization and preceding that of the dynasties, because, as
I 34
has been shown in relation to the treatment of the material, the end for which the material
served was no longer an essential part of the civilization as a whole, but had become a con-
tingent factor within a chain, a factor only incidentally related to clay, to vessels, and to
food storage. This is obvious from the circumstance that for the post-Gerzean period rough
ware is .found exclusively, and that within this classification industrial vessels predominate
over household pots. Furthermore, no new types are evolved; we find merely new dimensions
and proportions.
As our typological starting point in regard to protodynastic pottery, we take the two
variants that reflect the suppositional archetype of the Gerzean culture- the vessel with fiat
base and the type with rounded bottom. The absolute dimensions a.re greatly enlarged, while
width decreases in relation to height ( 1: 5). Because of this marked slenderness, the pot,
despite its height, can contain only a fraction of what the Fayum pots of the same height could
hold. But in the Fayum the harvest was stored in the ground, and the squared shape was the
easiest to achieve and the most durable. N ow storage is above ground, and while space in the
air is free, space on the surface of the ground is apparently so precious that it is cheaper to be
lavish with clay. Considering how carefully pots were repaired in earlier times, we can see in
what measure man is losing his essential relation to pottery. The fact that possession of a great
number of vessels represents greater -wealth than ownership of one pot, even of the most
capacious type, is indicative of the same trend: quantity has replaced quality as a standard.
It could easily be shown that the convex curve grows increasingly weaker and is re-
placed by a straight side, by a contrastless transition from convexity to concavity, or by an
elliptical outline, neither regular nor irregular, whose bulge is very slight in relation to its
height. The significant feature, ho~ever, is found not in the form differences in detail- for
these are secondary to the purely functional character of the vessel-but in the general
munity of producers (Fay:um) is superseded by expropriation of the community by a ruler,
whose lust for possession is limitless because he has no personal relation to production or
storage. The slender form no longer suggests, as it did in Badari, the possibility of visual en-
compassment of the form; it proclaims merely man's unrelatedness to the vessel, which is
seen from above. There is a relation only to the longitudinal dimension of the vessel, con-
ceived as the route along which the grain is conveyed, as though to flow forth again from
the lower end.
The artistic ideal of this last prehistoric period may be· defined as that of the formless
form or of the purely abstract. T his ideal is realized in a body whose surface is everywhere
equidistant from its axis- i. e., the cylinder. The oldest stone vases have this form; therefore it
probably was not imported, although the gray-green color of the clay is non-Egyptian. The
form is now imitated or introduced for the reason that the artistic expression of the period in-
creasingly tends to uniformity, to a ·calligraphy of the useful. If the other forms have a nega-
tive character, because they represent the disintegration of the past in the course of adjust-
ment, the cylindrical vessel, although its tradition goes far back over a long period of time in
Egypt, has something of t he spirit of the future. It is not surprising that the material almost
loses its reality and comes to have an effe_c t of the spectral.
The Third Culture of prehistoric Egypt evidences a familiarity with two very different
135
,
kinds of pottery decoration. One consists of incised designs applied for the most part to pots
of the two surviving Amratian types, before or after firing. The other is produced by dark-
red painting on the usually pale or faded surface of vessels of the two new types discussed
above. We have here a differentiation analogous to that in the vessel forms, which led 1,lS to
infer a coexistence of two peoples, an Upper Egyptian and a Lower Egyptian.
What do these methods of ornamentation teach us about the mode of physical existence,
the social and political organization, the religious ideology, and, finally, the conflicts of these
groups? First, we have not the slightest proof that the red ornamentation was imported into
Upper Egypt as a ready-made technique, since the incised designs, although found in limited
degree in the Amratian period, increase gradually in the Gerzean period. The most plausible
working hypothesis is that the new culture formed as a result of the clash and subsequent
coexistence of two populations. We know nothing definite about their earlier relationship.
But if it is correct to assume that the Fayum was settled in early neolithic times by a people
fleeing from Middle Egypt before the invading beaker folk, it may be that we are now con-
fronted with a return of some of their descendants; the settlements discovered by Caton-
Thompson near Quarum in the Fayum may be those of another part of this population. This
would explain why the forms of the decorated pots derive from the Fayum types, and why
we find again a loose proximity of two peoples, as in the Fayum.
If this theory applies, the historical events are analogous to those represented in the
temple of Edfu in late historical dmes: a tribe that earlier fled from conquerors of superior
strength returns to recover its old homeland. As a speculation, we might interpret an observa-
tion of Petrie's 3 as showing that these reimmigrants crossed the Nile at Gerzeh. There, it was
found, the corpses were buried with their heads to the north and their eyes facing eas-tward;
the orientation of heads and eyes would indicate the direction from which the wanderers
came, and this would be the origin of the position of the dead in dynastic times. Perhaps we
have here also vestiges of the burial customs of the Fayum people, which so far have remai~ed
unknown. But whatever the value of this hypothesis, the immigrants coming from the north
found devices on the pottery of the ruling class that they probably did not understand, and
an ideology that was probably alien to them; they had to invent motifs based on their own
ideology partly in order to distinguish themselves from the defeated, and partly in order to
symbolize their superiority.
The red ornamentation of the Gerzean period [XXVII-XXXII] can be divided into
two groups. One employs lines and surfaces that do not represent objects (this does not
imply that they do not have meanings), and the other uses object forms, single or grouped,
occasionally with signs in the forin of the letter N or S and groups of undulating lines or tri-
angles. The objects pictured include two-cabin ships with standards, animals (antelopes and
flamingoes), a potted plant that Schweinfurth has identified as an aloe, an object that has
been interpreted as a shield or sail but seems to be a skin, a leaflike or fanlike object that
Petrie takes to be another plant, and a number of diftierent human figures in various attitudes.
The as~ociation of so many different objects was of course feasible only if each of them had
a specific meaning, a definite function in the cult of the dead. What were these meanings?
There is no doubt that the ship provided with oars but not with oarsmen is the ferry
that takes the dead to the place of their second life. But can it be also, even as early as this, the
ship in which the sun travels across the sky, or the sun god, or does it convey the dead
136
accompanying the sun god? We have seen that the ship in Amratian ornamentation stood
for an assemblage ofsdrs and constellations, probably in signification of political alliances
between totemistic clans or the princes succe~ding the clans. An older version than the
painted ships are the ships modeled in clay; the oldest known example was found in Merimda
-not in a grave but in a settlement. According to Junker's description, 4 it has low sides and is
pointed at both extremities; the excavators could have taken it for a toy as well as for an object
referring to the journey to the kingdom of the dead. No ship models were found in Tasa,
but there are clay and wooden models of ships dating from Badarian and Amratian times.
In view of this, it seems incorrect to ascribe a' "spiritual meaning" only to these models
and to assume that the painted Gerzean ships "refer to common earthly ships, and not to the
future world." 5 It is more likely that the former are prototypes of the latter. The cultual
use of ships grew out of the circumstances of daily life on the Nile and the seacoast, and it
may be conjectured that there was at some time earlier a custom of burial in water, and that
this practice was revived under changed conditions in completely new forms, as we can see
from the ships painted on the Gerzean pots and from the enumeration of ·twenty-two ship
parts in Chapter 99 of the Book of the Dead. The ancient origin of the water-burial custom
may be inferred from the fact that even in dynastic times, when fresh-water fish was a
common food, sea food was regarded with aversion. Priests ate no fish at all, and the types
of fish associated with the god Set were trampled upon and burned.
Certain texts.of the Middle Empire describe the voyage of the dead in the celestial ferry;
' this has been interpreted as an allegory of the procession to the earthly grave. 6 Actually, the
development rests on an opposite sequence of association: the real journey to the grave was
made in a ship (this did not necessarily mean crossing the Nile) and later the implication of
this voyage was transferred to the celestial realm and endowed with religious-symbolic sig-
nificance. Petrie's skepticism seems justified in so far as there is no objective basis for identify-
ing the cult of the dead that made use of clay or painted ships with the historical cult of the
sun or Re. It is much more likely that the later cu_lt of the sun and sun god took over the
more ancient cult of ships in order to unify the two religions.
Although the ideational connections of the painted Gerzean ships with the past and the
future remain a matter for conjecture, the difference between the attitudes they represent and
the Amratian ideology is striking. In the Second Culture there was a leap from the grave to
heaven that was effected by various magic means. In the Third Culture both the starting
and the terminal point have disappeared, and what remains is only the course between them,
the voyage. If, as has been shown, magic and belief in magic declined at the end of the
Amratian culture, it would -follow that what had been most secure was now insecure and
a matter for fear. This breach in the old faith became the dominant reality. in the new faith.
The ship provided with i:nany oars guaranteed the possibility of leaving the grave and
traveling to the scene of the afterlife; further, the guarantee was the stronger, the greater
the number of oars-a survival of the idea of the magic potency of cumulation. But the ship
was not a guarantee of arrival; it assured only the voyage. Hence the overwhelming, almost
irreligious pessimism reflected in this device, arguing against identification of it with the
later cult of Re; for this god was invented for the very purpose of eliminating an uncertainty
that had become acute and of guaranteeing definitive salvation.
- J This factor of anxiety also accounts for the variety of the objects used in the ornamenta-
137
 tion: all of them are guarantees pertaining to the afterlife. The aloe, brought from abroad, was
a desert plant that could survive drouth; it could stand either for a magic aid in overcoming
the dangers of the voyage to the second life or for a token of safe passage. The antelope, a
mountain animal, probably also not indigenous, was later considered impure, because it was
said to wail, sneeze, and relieve itself at the rising of the moon (or of the sun o·r Sirius). It
was associated with Set, the enemy of the god of light, and the priests ate its flesh to annoy
Set. 7 This would suggest that there was a desire to suppress an earlier significance, and that
the Gerzean ships were probably not sun ships and certainly not ships of the sun god. The
earlier significance can only be conjectured: antelopes could survive the feeding hazards of
all seasons, because they could forage on mountains when there was no grass on the plains.
Thus the sign of the antelope was a charm against want of food in the afterlife. The flamingo
was regarded as the bird of the soul and represented spiritual survival after death.
As for the two remaining forms, I consider one of them [XXVIII, 2 1] a representation
,of the. painted skin mounted on a stick that was used in religious ceremonies; a similar object
appears in the Hierakonpolis tomb painting (p. 14). No skins were found in the graves of the
Gerzean period; possibly the association of skins with some religious function prevented use
of them as a ~rapping for the dead. Later certain priests donned panther or leopard skins for
ritual acts, and there is a statue of a god dressed in the skin of a ram. ObviouslY. the use of skins,
which superseded the paleolithic use of human figures masked as animals, has a long history
in Egyptian religion, with frequent changes of meaning and purpose.
In this connection the l~ter tekenu rite may be important. Maspero interpreted it as
signifying the "rebirth of man by the ordeal of the oxhide" (renaissance de l'homme atravers
une peau de boeuf), while according to Kees the ·tekenu is a representation of the consign-
ment of the evil nature of the dead person to the earth (nether world), together with pieces
of the sacrificial animal. In the Hierakonpolis painting [XXXIV, XXXV] we see two !llen
striking a skin mounted on a stick, a man wearing a skin (perhaps a priest), and a third man
standing on his head. The scene is placed beneath a ship, and there are three men playing
musical instruments, which no doubt indicates that the action represents a solemn rite. This
suggests that the skin, the former garb of the deceased, is being flagellated in his stead, to
purge him of his sins ahd prepare him for the afterlife. Most of the designs on the skin fit in
with this interpretation; they comprise the old Amratian signs of life and of death placed
one above the other, i. e., they denote the passage from death to life, or the process of
resurrection.
Occasionally other signs appear between the signs of life and of death, such as the old
cross comp~sed of horizontally oriented angles or the new cumulation of lozenges. Often
smaller forms are painted to the right and left of such skins, usually in closing the same signs.
Thus the skin, used for the ritual purification of the deceased as a prerequisite for the second
life, represents a mixture of old magic and new rites-a cult recalling the symbolic acts of the
mysteries rather than magic spells. It should be not'ed that in this mixed symbolism the skin
representing the flagellation rite is paramount; the magic signs are subordinate to it.
The other remaining form represents a fanlike object [XXVIII, 1 3] with a kind of hook
at its lower end; this may have served for hanging it up or attaching a weight to it.·The inner
design consists of a cumulation of signs of life (giving or receiving life, coming to life), but
they are no longer of equal size, and they are inclosed within a roughly semicircular out-
138
line based on a horizontal diameter. As a result of this duality of outline and inner design, the
former outweighs the latter, which thus seems partly to lose its magic force. It is impossible
to see this form as a bow and thus to connect it with the previously mentioned princely
rejuvenation rite. That it is a life-giving charm is evidenced by the fact that in one instance
there are flowering ~ranches sprouting out of the sign [ XXVIII, 16].
In each case, the objects represented are closely related to the meanings of the N- and
$-shaped signs. \Ve have seen that the sign N can be interpreted as a contraction of the
signs of life and of death (tlY = N ) , i. e., a sign of rebirth associated in meaning with natus and
w:6i;. The stylistic reasons for eliminating the transition and fusing the parts in a single form,
as well as the general ideological background, will now be dearer. It may be worth recalling
that the Greek N is associated not only with v£6i; (young) but also with vaui; (ship) and
va6i; (dwelling of a god), and that the idea of a ship serving as a dwelling for a dead god-king
in the interim before he enters upon his afterlife probably originated in times preceding the
period of Egyptian prehistory known to us through excavations, for the Latin and Greek
alphabets were not brought directly from Egypt.
By analogy, it may be assumed that the $-shaped sign was formed by the combination
of two crotchets. Although it is not possible to establish the meaning of thi:s element as clearly
as that of 'the angle, the vitalism of the style to which it belongs points to the probability of
a meaning related to life. This brings us to the fact that the new ornamentation retains the
three elements of the Amratian style--:the angle of the warrior-herdsmen, the crotchet of the
hunting clans, and the plant of the women cultivators-but only as elements of a new ideology
that determines their objective and stylistic transforf!lation.
The sign of the triangle requires no detailed explanation, since it has been shown
(p. 76) that when it appears singly it means death-dealing power (killing), whe11 used
doubly it means death (mortality, transience), and used triply, the seat of the afterlife, the
"beautiful west." The fact that the sign is repeated in larger cumulations, just as are the
flamingoes, the sign N or the $-shaped sign, and often the antelopes, is merely evidence of a
magic uncertain of its effectiveness and therefore degenerated into a mannerism, or of a
replacement of what were earlier magic signs by symbols. The triangle has nothing -in
common with the so-called mound, Egyptian or non-Egyptian, unless it is with the grave
mound. The latter is the archetype of the pyramid.
The ship standards play a special role among the signs. Petrie's assumption..,-that they
are signs designating ports-does not seem to me convincing; interpretation of them as
insignia of nomes or provinces is not beyond dispute but more plausible. Petrie 8 enumerates
thirty-two different signs and Newberry° twenty-six in eighty-four different combinations,
while later compilations show only seventeen different signs for the forty-two provinces. 10
But whatever the number_of the signs, most of them are Lower Egyptian, and the majority
of them represent harpoons ( ~) and "mounds" (insignia of the sixth and seventh prov-
inces). A ship has only one standard. It is rare, however, to find a vase with only one sign.
It is equally rare for all the ships on one vase to have identical signs. The various signs
occurring on any one vase are eith@r Lower Egyptian or Upper Egyptian or both. Sometimes
the several signs are combined into a new form.
Hence the interpretative possibilities are: (a) Merchants and boatmen of various prov-
inces united for protection of their interests, forming a kind of religious community, at least
I 39
,
for the purpose of meeting the exigency of death. The medieval brotherhoods are an example
of such a combination of secular and religious interests. (b) The princes or palatines of the
conquering people made alliances among themselves as a defense against the great land-
owners of the former ruling class, or to promote the interests of their merchants. Such
alliances Il)ay often have been furthered by marriages, and the burial vases of such couples
bear the signs of the provinces of husband and wife. If so, the standards show that the
Gerzean civilization was spread over a iarge territory, and they appear as one of the few
realistic elements embodied in this style. For it is a style that mirrors as an only reality the
phenomenon of death and therefore assembles so many life and death signs into a system.
This system was probably created by members of a special trade who were interested in
effect-ing the systematization.
What is the role of man in such a world, in which mastering of life has been replaced
by an aspiration to withdraw from social reality and the struggle with the concrete difficulties
of existence, by an inability to get rid of the preoccupation with death? Human figures are
placed either near the sterns of the ships, on the cabins, or above and between the ships
[XXXI, XXXII ] . They are formed in part of downward pointing triangles, a larger triangle
for the lower part of the body and a smaller one for the upper part, which is surmounted
by a disk to indicate the head. In contrast to this type made up entirely of solidly painted
elements, there is another type with spread legs and slender torso slightly broadened at the
shoulders. Often the two types appear side by side on one ship, and they are doubtless meant
to represent a man and a woman. Thus the sexes are distinguished in that the female figure
is formed by means of the old Amratian signs for the genitals, life, and heaven, with the
addition of a circle that may stand for the sun or the moon. Definite proportions are observed:
the hips are drawn as part of the lower part of the body, which is thus made larger than the
upper part, and the head is markedly large. This is intended to emphasize the association oJ
one part of the body with the earth through work and of another part with the celestial sphere
through religious intimations. At the beginning of historical times the upper part of the body
with the breasts was brought into equilibrium with the lower part- the concept of the
feeding mother triumphed over that of the birth-giving and toiling woman-and the head
was made smaller, i. e., the transcendental relation was given a lesser emphasis.
The representation of the male figure is further removed from the signs of the geometric
style, which is reflected here only in the downward opening angle formed by the legs. The
reason for this may be that it was needed to represent striding motion, which was an attribute
of the hunter, the herdsman, and later the merchant. Men had greater independence with
regard to the ~arth; it was natural to represent their legs as conquering space, with emphasis
at the same time on the unity of the upper part of the body as associated with the arms and
thereby with manifestation of physical force. Thus the male body is drawn with the limbs
conveying the impression of motion, as in work, and the torso becomes an extension of the
legs. Women's legs remain undifferentiated, because)in hoeing the function of the legs is
to support the body, and because the spread position of the legs was thought to connote
sexual desire or giving entrance to death.
Figures of women with arms show two different attitudes-they are praying, or touch-
ing a husband or children, i. e., symbolizing the family relation. The clay figure of a woman
with upraised arms that played a part in the cult of the dead as far back as Amratian times
140
cannot be regarded as representing a·dancer, because in a design on a vase in the Brooklyn
Museum (New York) there are two men supporting the upraised arms, holding the woman
directly under the armpits, in order to enhance the effectiveness of the posture and to pro-
long it. The -relief on the palette discussed above (p. 87) reveals the content of the prayer
symbolized in this figure. It may here be pointed out again that the posture gives us a
structure very similar to that of the hieroglyphic for ka, and that the wish integrating the
maternal forces relating to first birth, the forces of the morning star relating to the day, and
the forces of Sirius relating to the year, in an omen for the beginning of the second life, gives
us an important insight into the development of the much-disputed notion of the ka.
The function of the family is most clearly symbolized on a large four-eared vase in the
Metropolitan Museum of Art (if this is a genuine specimen). Here the human figures are
:elated to three ships. We describe these here in the order of what is apparently their relative
importance.
In the first ship, a group of three figures is shown standing on top of one cabin. One,
a man, holds a rod in one hand and extends the other behind the back of a woman. The
woman has her arm raised toward the head of a smaller woman standing beside her, who
holds one arm to her own breast. A fourth figure, a man, stands in the middle of the second
cabin. He holds an object in one hand; with the other he touches the upper part of his body.
By analogy _w ith sculptures dating from historical times, this group may be assumed to
represent a dead family, with a servant bearing an offering.
On the seco.n d ship there are four figures, all female. Three of them form a group by
holding hands, with their arms slightly raised; the two outer figures have their free hands on
their hips. Separated from this group at the extremity of the ship, the fourth figure stands
on top of a cabin with hands raised in prayer. There are also four women under this ship.
The first is the largest; her hair (or wig) falls to both sides in parallel curves recalling aloe
branches. Her hand is placed on the head of the next woman, whose arm in turn is touching
her. Each of the remaining women stands with her forearms raised horizontally on a level
with her breasts-a gesture known from Amratian times and signifying that the dead are
offered an inexhaustible supply of mother's milk. Between the two ships there is a woman
raising her arms high in prayer, with the hands turned inward and dropped toward her head.
In view of the strikingly small number of men in the whole scene, it could be assumed that
these female figures stand in part for harem women and their daughters and in part for
slaves charged with performing religious functions -in behalf of the dead.
In the third ship two figures stand on top of a cabin under a kind of canopy, each with
an arm or hand touching the other's; the woman's free hand holds her breast, the man's holds
the pole of the canopy or baldachin. As regards the relation of this group to the entire
scene, it should be noted that between the last and the first ship there are several rows of
the usual death or immortality symbols, one above the other-i. e., the last couple may stand
in particularly near relation to the first, as children to parents.
If this interpretation of the painting is correct, it would show that the Gerzean civiliza-
tion has developed a new form of marriage. Husband and wife are no longer independent
individuals forced into companionship by their sexual needs; they are members of a family
that includes also children, harem, and servants. The new family as a community of labor or
consumption is a product of sedentation and of social integration following on invasion.
,
 The decorations on the vases indicate that this new type of familial community de-
veloped in Egypt as a polygamous form, and that marriage, the harem, .and slavery were
related. This means, first of all, that man has lost his old fear that woman weakens his
I
powers as a hunter. Man in the settled status, the master in society, is mindful only of his
sexual pleasure and of the wea)th represented by women and children as work animals,
food givers, and religious ministrants. He no longer fears the malign look the dying beast
casts at his sexual organ; he feels himself to be the bull of a herd, begetting his first slaves and
buying others as he needs them. On the other hand, there remain some vestiges from the .
time when woman as cultivator asserted herself against man, and when she during the absence
of the hunters practiced a kind of polyandry. At least married women seem to enjoy a free
and important position, and the religious functions of the women servants make man de-
cidedly dependent upon woman. However, it is possible that woman's religious functions
were accorded her as a kind of illusory compensation for her loss of real power.
Two scenes that depict gesturing deserve special consideration. On a vase illustrated
by Quibell [XXXII, 6, 7] there are four small :figures with outspread legs and arms: thus in
each figure the extremities form two semicircles, connected by the vertical stroke repre-
senting the trunk. Such a posture is known among some modern peasants and has an out-
spokenly sexual significance. The form of the ship and especially that' of the cabins, as well
as the animals- a crocodile, an ostrich (possibly a flamingo), a :fishlike creature, and turtles
-are all exceptional and impossible to interpret, except as a hybrid product of Egyptian and
non-Egyptian customs.
In the second of the two scenes [XXXII, 5], the ship, unlike the usual ships of the
dead, has ends bending deeply inward. Four oarsmen stand on the floor of the ship pushing
long oars propped against their shoulders, while on the deck above them six figures, singly
or in groups of two, stand under canopies. It is the exceptional presence of oarsmen that
shows clearly how much all the other ships owe their unreal, mystical character to the
circumstance that they seem to glide of themselves, like the great bodies of the :firmament.
From a social point of view, such effortless gliding of ships could be invented only when
there was a group of people who did no productive work, i. e., only after the introduction of
slavery. From the historical point of view, it is impossible to assume that the trading or
pleasure ship operated by slaves became the ship of the dead without any transitional ideation.
The question is only whether this transitional link points to a cult of the sun developed by
the cultivators, as might be inferred from the evidence of later times, or to a revival of the
custom of burial in water, which ·seems suggested by the whole G erzean style. The water
over which this ship is propelled and the other emblems of death seem to support this
hypothesis. •
Turning from iconographic to stylistic considerations, we are struck by the skill with
which the artist avoided all the optical distortions that might easily have been produced by
the large, high-positioned bulge of the vase. The ship) with its high ends is placed below the
bulge in such a way that there is enough room between its curves and the curves of the vase
for the objects that go with the ship. All the other objects are placed between or under the
ships. Since the convex surface of the vase is conceived as freely revolving around an axis,
one obtains only more or less partial views, and the end of the decoration merges with the
beginning. The effect here is not that of a spontaneous renewal of one entity, making a
finite phenomenon into an infinite process for the beholder; instead, we have an artificial
sequence of heterogeneous elements relativizing one another in order to express one meaning
transcending the separate significances. This monotonous horizontal movement has its
complement in the effect of the height relationships. There is no common base line for the
figures; there is only a focus supplied by the ship, which is occasionally placed beneath two
or four groups of undulating lines that loop down from the rim of the vase. These waters
cannot be anything but the oceans of heaven or of the nether world. T hus the whole design
is conceived as something above the earth, which it does not touch, and under the heavens,
which it does not reach. This is in harmony with the content, which relates to the inter-
mediate domain between the grave and the beyond.
The neolithic Egyptians of the Gerzean period, although settled, did not live on and
with the earth; further, they had lost the certainty that active magic could send them to an
abode of blissful second life. Their existence was neither terrestrial nor celestial, neither in this
world nor in the beyond, but between the two, a searching for a way that would lead them
to the goal. Probabl)7i it is this outlook that is set down in the cosmogonic myth according
to which the heavens, originally resting upon the earth, were detached and raised high, so
that an intervening space was created and the heavens thence on had to be supported. When
heaven rested upon earth, the connection between the two was· obvious, and therefore be-
yond uncertainty; when heaven was detached from earth, the distance between the two was
the measure of the new uncertainty. The coming of an alien people with a different ideology
meant outward assault upon the old magic already inwardly undermined. A gap was created
in man's psychic life. The effect of this hiatus was a nonbeing, a shadow of being; here
nonbeing and being do not issue in a becoming, in the sense either of coming to be or of
ceasing to be, but in a ghostlike suspension-a gliding over a surface whose emptiness is more
significant than all the diverse objects on it, because it cannot be filled or covered. In relation
to this absolute background, all the individual objects are equally flat; they are not dis-
tinguished by particular accentual values but are assembled around the dominating form of
the ship in an order that is more a juxtaposition than a hierarchization.
Just as male figures are distinguished from female by the representational pattern, the
child from the parents by size, the servant from the master by the distance between them,
while none is made inferior to another, so the separate elements of the composition are
ordered without being subordinated to one another: all are equally bound to the same surface
· and dominated by it. In face of the certainty of death and the uncertainty of a second life,
all humans are reduced almost to an equality-and in a society that knows slavery this is
possible only if all men are subjected to the same power, in the face of which each is
dependent upon the other, even the master upon his servant. Such a power would be that of
religion-a religion reflected in this art as passive skepticism and fear, in significant contrast
to the attitude of optimistic, active, intellectual-voluntaristic certainty reflected in the
Amratian white ornamentation. T he aesthetic mood is now that of a restless subjectivity
seeking liberation by shifting from symbol to symbol and sinking ever more deeply into a
dull consciousness of continuing unfreedom. The Amratian ornamentation was the product
of a rationalizing mental activity that dominated existence by will,.the Gerzean is the product
of a declining psychic energy that has lost the power to cope with reality. And since the level
of self-awareness of a given society is closely correlated with the degree of its freedom and
143
,
artistic creativeness, the Gerzean art is inferior to the Amratian art. This fact makes the
problem of the whence and the why of the Gerzean culture all the more crucial.
The system of decorative elements concentrated around the ships does not include all
the motifs that occur in the red painting. The Amratian designs are largely eliminated, i. e.,
the straight line, the circle, the angle, the star-in brief, all the elements of the geometric style,
as well as the crotchet with its rising and ebbing vitality, and the dots, plants, and crosslines of
the feminine style. Dots survive to a greater extent than other elements [XXVII, 1-4],
showing that grain played a paramount role in both cultures. But in the earlier culture we
find artistically ordered masses of dots; in the later we have unordered agglomerations. In the
practice of the former, the order is determined by two factors: first, the position of the dots
is related to the outline, and the proportion between the size of the dot and the width of the
interval is c.onstant; second, the dot is a static form, so that it can be considered as identical
with the negatives produced by close meshes of crossed lines. In both these respects, the dot
motif on the red.:.decorated vessels is formless: the dots spread in all directions, are near to or
far from one another, and their position is not related to the frame. Concentration, i. e.,
relational and defined existence in space, is replaced by dispersion, i. e., unorganized, un-
articulated being in an expanse. Ideologically, this loss of the desire for order means that man
has ceased to dominate his product, either because it has become overwhelming in volume or
because he has surrendered his control of it to a superior power. The formless infinite has
acquired priority and higher value as against the controlled finite.
Stars appear with considerably less frequency; there are only isolated instances of the
five-pointed form representing the morning star [XXVII, 5, 7], and in one case this form
occurs in association with a circular motif, in which leftward movement is indicated by
small interior strokes. Of the same order of Amratian motifs is an isolated positional variant
of the sign X( !><l ) [XXVII, 6],which now can be seen as either an Mor W shape; anot?er
motif presents these two signs as separate forms joined by a vertical stroke CJ) [XXVII, 20].
This clearly reflects a wavering between the two concepts presented in the cosmogonic myth
-the idea of the heavens resting upon the earth, and the idea of the heavens separated from the
earth- and thus also the phase of certainty and the phase of uncertainty in the cult of the dead.
Among new motifs, the first to be noted is the ~hessboard pattern [XXVII, 2 8-3 o],
which may have the same meaning as the Amratian checkered rectangles, i. e., it may signify
cultivated land given to the dead to assure their food supply. The change in the visual content
of the sign would then reflect a new development in Egyptian argicultural life, either the
introduction of alternating crops or a change in class alignments. In addition to the chess-
board pattern, there is also a pattern of rectangular blocks. Here, in place of the contrast
between the"dark red-covered and the light background squares, we have a contrast between
crosslined fields and light, background-colored empty fields. In view of the growing impor-
tance of agriculture, it would be erroneous to see only decorative intentions in these
differentiations. ) the relation between the two implied in the old signs of crossroads and rebirth.
Another new motif is the spiral [XXVIII, 7-9]. It may seem strange that in Egyptian
pottery this motif appears only in ·the Gerzean culture, since it was known in westen:i
Europe in paleolithic times, and since it occurs in the region of the delta (Merimda) on
baskets used for grain storage (perhaps signifying the "blessing of grain"). The late appear-
ance of the motif in Egyptian pottery is certainly not chargeable to absence of a stimulus for
144
it in nature or the crafts; the adoption of it at this stage is due to a changing sense of life.
The spiral is always used in: isolation; it is never connected with another spiral. This isolation is
emphasized when the sign is larger than usual in relation to the height and width of the
vessel, or when it is repeated, so that the pattern becomes a scattering of monads over the
surface. The term monad may well be used to characterize this spiral, for it unrolls from an
inner starting point to· an outer end point apparently from no vital impetus. It is more like
a self-closing circling movement, a· recession inwar~ in the manner of a snail withdrawing
into its shell, a circular motion made for the sake of circling until its inherent force is
exhausted. It is a motion neither produced_ nor maintained of its own strength-it is the
expression of a pessimistic sense of life, a form variant in an ideology according to which
life on earth is meaningless and transitory and the afterlife a frightening uncertainty.
The most common element of design is now a wave with a shallow stroke, completely
tensionless, jaded, monotonous [XXVII, 14-2 7]. It shows neither sensitivity to form nor
will to power, and ·glides on almost like a mechanical script; it bespeaks neither reflection,
effort, nor differentiation. To derive the idea of this stroke from the cord tied around a
vessel for carrying it is as implausible as to derive the idea of the spiral from the calcaire
nummulithique. Any theory that seeks to relate a motif to a model in nature without relating
it to social causes, historical traditions, and ideological purposes, is necessarily fallacious. The
other Gerzean devices force tis to take all these factors into account, even when the decora-
tive intention seems to predominate over the expressive, or when it seems impossible to draw
a sharp line between . the expressive and the decorative. But when such indefiniteness is
actually objective, it implies an assertion concerning the spiritual climate of the period: it
testifies that the relation between the visual entity and the spiritual meaning has lost its earlier
direct arid unambiguous character. Such a change may have come about either because there
had been no crystallization of social structure, owing to absence of political freedom or
power, or because the fantastic complement of this social reality was an ideology that com-
pulsively sought after the formless infinite as an escape from the all too rigidly finite.
The slightly waved line may be a sh9rt stroke appearing with or without accom-
panying longitudinal curves. Or it may be long, running horizontally around the vessel
or longitudinally fro~ top to bottom. Occasionally the lines intersect as diagonals form-
ing the sign X. Often short strokes are arranged in such a way that their combination
suggests a sideward movement, usually to the right. Thus the expression inheres not always
in new content but often only in new means corresponding to a change of mood. I have
earlier interpreted the cumulation of waved lines looped from the neck of a vase as repre-
senting the ocean of heaven, and this idea of water seems to me the most plausible association
for the waved line. On some vases there are several rows of slightly waved lines directly
above the base and below the neck; between them is a sequence of life-death signs <X). This
pattern may be regarded as representing the oceans of heaven and of the nether world and
To the neolithic Egyptians, the multiplicity of meanings, the fusion of many meanings
a
into one, was metaphysical-religious value. Thus the shallow wave may signify not only
flowing water but also drifting sand and dunes, floating clouds, filaments, and snakes. Most
of these meanings would imply an origin in Lower Egypt, in the region of the delta and the
seacoast. Each meaning taken-separately would explain some things and leave others un-
145
explained. For this reason it seems to me that the important consideration is the common
denominator of all these phenomena-the sense of a gliding, flowing, floating, drifting, blow-
ing away. Hence the waved line bespeaks the transitoriness of life, the vanity of earthly
things: it is a symbol of mortality. It may be assumed that this line was chosen because it was
seen so commonly in nature, and because its general meaning allowed of so many diverse dec-
orative applications. The artists working in the geometric style chose a fixed element with a
specific meaning, although this meaning could be expanded by analogy from a terrestrial to
a cosmic association and could be changed into its opposite by change of position. The
Gerzean artists chose a vague an~ formless element of such uncertain emotional content that
it remains the same throughout all positional changes and signifies the same thing in all com-
binations: the feeble vib~ancy of the line on the monotonous background stands for the
monotonous, unchanging movement of v_acuous flow.
Incised markings [XXXIII, XXXVI] represent a special classification of signs in pre-
historic Egyptian ornamentation, a group difficult to interpret. Petrie, 11 who began a system-
atic collection of .them, regards them as property marks and connects them with characters of
later alphabets, thereby vitiating his valid fundamental idea that they are elements of language.
It is hardly probable that elements of language had acquired an alphabetic character at such
an early date. Bayer12 attempted a religious interpretation and thought that he had discovered
representations of the hawk of Horus, a god, the sun, also a winged sun, the ka, and Neit.
Most of these interpretations are untenable because of their content; and, as in Petrie's theory,
transference of later content to an earlier time is fatal here. In analyzing an incised device
showing an animal with two heads facing in opposite directions (such a device appears on
a vase in the Metropolitan Museum of Art), the historian may point out that this motif was
formed in paleolithic times and at that time probably signified "marriage" (more general!y,
"alliance," "pact"); he may also point out that it occurs among the hieroglyphics, with the
meaning of "yesterday and tomorrow." But nothing justifies his identifying the meaning of
the neolithic incised mark with the earlier or later meaning; his task is first to find the mean-
ing of the device for a specific historical period, and only then can he establish connections.
But such a procedure requires that the incised markings be related to the contemporaneous
ornamentation, that they be analyzed in the light of the specific historical and social condi-
tions, and that their special function in the given society be understood. And even if all this
is done, more than one riddle remains.
The incised markings first appear in the Amratian culture, but their number is small and
the forms are limited. In the Gerzean culture they occur extensively, but in either period they
remain attached to the same types of pottery.
They are usually upon the black-topped jars, less commonly on the red-polished and
ash jars, only once on black ~ncised, twice on wa~y-~andled pottery, once on1: rough-
faced pot, and once on a late Jar, but never on wh1te-lme or decorated pottery.
Petrie's statement has a number of enlightening implications:
1. The incised markings are never found on the best ware of a given period, i. e., on the
ware of the powerful and wealthy, nor on the cheapest ware; thus they would seem to be
identified with a well-to-do but not ruling group.
146
2. Since the black-topped· pottery originated in the Badarian culture, i. e., a local
Middle Egyptian culture, it may be conjectured that the incised markings likewise originated
in this region, which is situated near the eastern invasion point ( Coptos), at the junction of
the main trading routes. Up to now, incised markings dating from pre-Amratian times have
not been found, but in later, predynastic Badarian pottery there is a use of local motifs,
such as designs suggesting the "eye of the sun." Assumption of such an origin would best
explain why such diverse elements as Lower Egyptian signs of provinces, angles of the Tasa
immigrants and later developments of these angles, as well as elements of the crotchet style,
are found together. A class that · was well-to-do and was assimilating cultures of various
provinces would most presumably be a merchant class. We have previously mentioned the
special role of merchants in Badari. It would seem that they insisted upon having their native
type of pottery with them wherever they went, despite its fragility, in order to be sure of
having their own kind of burial vessels. ·
3. If this analysis is correct, it follows that the incised markings cannot belong to a
unified system like that formed by the white Amratian ornamentation. In their very nature
they represent a taking over of elements of ·various cultures without attempt to fuse them-
and this points to the outlook of a roving life and to cultural open-mindedness or indifference.
While the incised markings fail to reflect a homogeneous concept of the universe, they reveal,
perhaps more clearly than the rigid ideologies of the settled groups, the vicissitudes of the
historical process.
+ Since the use of incised markings spreads over a very long period of time-from the
beginning of the Amratian culture through the Gerzean culture into the obscure intermediate
period preceding dynastic times-their original social function may have changed. T he be-
ginning of the Third Cuiture, and the concomitant change of ruling classes, may particularly
have brought a great transformation in its train. The conjecture is suggested by the fact that
·in Middle Egypt we find no representations of animals by means of incised markings, and
only a few such motifs are found in the Amratian period. In contrast to this, we find at the
end of the Gerzean.period the crocodile, the hippopotamus, the scorpion, the elephant, the
giraffe, and a group of animals representing stars and constellations, as well as the ship. From
this it could be inferred that the deposed ruling groups of the Amratian period resorted to
incised markings in order to continue their old use of magic signs in a less ostentatious form.
Such an assumption would explain the connection with the white ornamentation and would
support the hypothesis that the incised markings do not constitute a closed ideological system.
Aesthetically the incised markings are completely different from the white and the red
ornamentation. The common feature of these latter is that they take the whole vessel for
their ground surface, that they spread all over it and make the meaning of the vessel form
specific. The incised markings occupy only small areas; usually they are obscurely placed be-
tween two color elements. They give the impression of being concealed on the vessel instead
of revealing its meaning. What they add to the vessel is not a meaningful decoration but a non-
decorative meaning. This is also more or less true of the structure of the sign. It is not a whole
constituted of formal elements in process of development, but a kind of shorthand symbol.
In the geometric signs, for instance, the principles of cumulation and ~f the negative, and
thereby the implication of development and of a contrast between two worlds, have been
eliminated; what remains is, so to speak, an abbreviation of the original artistic form and
naturally also of the meaning, which is not recognizable or interpretable from the expression
itself and can be understood only by going back to the original visual form. But since
change in form may also mean change in meaning, all such interpretations are necessarily
uncertain.
Because the structures of the visual form give place to a script intended to be read,
the lines used in the markings lack the intensity resulting from the contrast of sensuous self-
sufficiency and spiritual purpose. The marking is merely communicative; it is not without
movement or emotional quality, but it does not achieve the artistic ideal of multiplicity
in unity nor autonomous form. All this suggests that the incised markings were produced
by a people for whom the conflict between practical existence and ideology, between
the dominated and undominated sectors of the universe, did not exist, either because they
did not feel rooted in their culture or because outside forces drove them out of their
participation ill' that culture, so that they no longer felt responsible for maintaining and de-
veloping it. In the motifs of the red-decorated ware, art was the handmaiden of the cult of
the dead; in the incised markings it has lost its specific function of synthesizing possibility
and necessity, will and faith. This also makes any direct interpretation impossible.
Under these circumstances the most purposeful method of classifying the incised mark-
ings is to relate them to the cultures to which they respectively belong. A chronological ·
treatment will serve best for tracing the changes in meaning.
1. THE AMRATIAN PERIOD
[ xxxm, 1, 2 ]
1. The markings represent animals, viz., the elephant, the fish, the hippopotamus, and
the giraffe-in other words, chiefly animals identified with stars and constellations. ~ 5. The signs for storm ( ~) and harpoon ( J ) remind us of the Lower Egyptian stand-
2. Since animals were originally drawn in the crotchet style, the occurrence of isolated
crotchets is important. Petrie's hypothesis that the crotchets stand for lunar crescents is
probably correct and confirms the conjecture that the totemistic clans of Upper Egypt had a
cult of the moon. All these crotchets curve downward; only when found in pairs do they
curve upward (\....A..J). By analogy with the later hieroglyphic c , this mark may signify the
fem ale genitals, and the combination of forms in the sign ~ may denote the sexual act. This
interpretation is hypothetical but seems interesting because, if correct, it would cast light on
the ideology of the period preceding the beaker folk invasion and thus on the great change
that began w~th the Second Culture. If the hypothesis holds, the woman of the early hunts-
man culture was less free, and this would confirm my surmise that the invaders were com-
pelled to grant women greater independence in order to conciliate them and obtain access
to agricultural products.
3. Plant forms occur rarely, representing not bi;anches but bushes or trees.
4. Of the purely geometric angle signs, we now find the cross usually closed at two or
three sides(X, X:
t><J, or [5<:l). We had three parallel meanings for the sign the cosITiic (earth
and heaven), the religious (life-death-resurrection), and the interpersonal or social (sexual
X
intercourse, town). With closing lateral lines added (t><1), the sign is a contraction of the
signs Mand w into one figure, just as the sign N is a contraction of the elements A and v. Now
148
the sign of death ( M) is over the sign of life ( w) ; and if we imagine the two triangles filled,
we obtain again the sign Jot giving life (v) over the sign for bringing death (A). It is plain to
·see how skepticism has penetrated the sign and undermined its unambiguous magic character.
If the same form is turned up OD it is not the signs M and w , but the signs v and A that are
more closely related by the closing lines; a social reas_o n may underlie this. To inflict death was
the function of the prince; to give life, that of the magician. The contractions may indicate
struggles directed to achieving the unification of the powers vested in two different persons;
the fusion is then reflected in the N and S forms. It is noteworthy that in many later names
of kings the M and N or N and S forms appear as the main components. As the office of the
king combined two originally separate functions, the names may have been derived from these
functions. This would explain why identical royal names occur among nearly all the civiliza-
tions of the great river valleys, and such an inference would offset that of Waddell, 14 who
took the dissemination of like names to indicate that the Indian, Sumerian, Egyptian, and
Cretan cultures were simultaneous.
The sign [5<:l may have another social basis, since the sign r--i also occurs in isolation. It
suggests a house, and it resembles the Greek IT, which brings to mind the roots of 7tat~<; and
nat<;. In either case the sign would lead to the idea of family. This is likewise suggested by the
Badarian lozenge, which is doubtless to be interpreted as the sign for a family. Thus the
incised markings incorporate meanings that do not occur in the geometric style-a proof that
the people who used them were not shackled to the prevalent ideology and for that reason
constituted a progressive force. The supplanting of the cosmic and religious meanings by a
social meaning is also revealed by the fact that the third element of the tripartite cosmogonic
sign (~)-the undulating lines denoting primal waters-appears in Badari separately. The
device of a house with an unrecognizable bird on its roof has doubtless also a sociopolitical
significance, since it is strongly reminiscent of the earliest hieroglyphics for names of kings.
ards on the Gerzean ships. A motif that looks like the Lower Egyptian crown evokes the same
associations. But such anticipatory elements are still extremely rare.
6. There are finally the markings that have no connection with the painted signs. Most
of them remain completely uninterpretable. They include the following devices:
fl, possibly an abbreviation for the concept of a man with legs spread, as found
on one Gerzean vessel
.~, possibly a combination of a spiral and a mutilated Y form
J. A, a sign for threshing, found also in somewhat more elaborate form on an
Amratian vessel
-J or ~ , both reminiscent of the hieroglyphic for a winding wall
o , probably connoting a vessel; at any rate, it is like the hieroglyphic for a cup
-1', possibly denoting a bow
7. We find on only one pot a combination of several markings resulting in the sign )/ .
Summing up our analysis of the Amratian incised markings, we find on the one hand a
tendency to archaism, as evinced in the recurren~e of elements of the crotchet style-i. e., a
tendency to restore totemic meanings of the time preceding the beaker folk invasion-and on
the other a tendency to break up the dogmatism of the Amratian ideology. The protagonists
of the first tendency were doubtless U pper Egyptian huntsmen who could not adjust them-
149
selves to the new culture; the agents of the second were presumably a group of people
acquainted with Lower Egypt through their occupation (merchants).
2. THE GERZEAN PERIOD
[ xxxm, 3; XXXVI, 2]
1. Notable among the animal forms is a group found in Naqada. In the upper row of
the design we find, in addition to an undefinable winged animal, a flamingo, a mouflon, and
a gazelle; in the lower row there is a giraffe standing on its head. This position is not acci-
· the meaning of the sign itself becomes double. Another old sign is the Greek cross ( + ), de-
dental: it is found from paleolithic times on, and is the same as that of one of the male partici-
pants in the .skin flagellation ceremony portrayed in the mural painting of Hierakonpolis.
Thus we have the animals favored by the Gerzean culture, in which the wicked giraffe, as
representing the Amratian culture, is consigned to the nether world. But the rest of the incised
markings that designate animals belong to a time at which this triumph was still in the future,
for the animals we find are the elephant, the hippopotamus, the crocodile, the scorpion-in
brief, a large part of the animals identified with celestial bodies, while other animals (lions,
snakes) hardly ever occur, and the geometric star forms have been reduced to the five-
pointed type.
2. This decided predominance of totemistic animals is accompanied by a marked re-
currence of elements of the style in which they were originally represented. The downward
opening curve of Amratian times (n) is now rarely found alone; it is frequently connected
with a Y form, and this confirms the presumption that the reference here is to the heavens
and sometimes to the lunar crescent. Such crescents are occasionally placed side by side, and
the element connecting them is sometimes pointed, sometimes rounded. In the latter case
the meaning suggested is that of water or -immortality, and the crossing of such adjoined
curves with a straight line _(~)_approximates th~ meaning of a similar crossing of angular
elements ( #). Furthermore, we now have the upward opening curve rarely occurring
alone but usually supplemented with a vertical stroke <l);
this stroke often cuts through the
curve Ct) and occasionally is turned up at the bottom so that it is like a reversed crook or
scepter. The same motif occurs in an angular form Ct). The signs of heaven and earth are
separated-the combining motif <X),
so frequent in Amratian times, has disappeared-and
there is now a complete conceptual opposition of them. This perhaps casts some light on the
sign for storm (!): it is an attempt to join ideationally the poles of heaven and earth. Heaven
now opens downward, while the earth (the dead) aspires upward: the orientations have
changed, while the meaning is no longer that of contact but of a mediation between separate
spheres. This new phase of the cosmogonic myth probably originated in Lower Egypt, be-
cause the sign - ~ remained the sign of a Lower Egyptian nome. Some of the markings of
this group are strikingly similar to the Greek 'I' .
3. The seldom occurring plant forms stand for bushes or trees rather than branches.
This consistent absence of female symbols may show that the women submitted to the in-
vaders more completely than the men, or were forced to submit as cultivators, because they
did not have the physical and spiritual strength for avoiding submission. Possibly also the
150
new regulation of sex relations throu&h organization of the family, giving woman a greater
sense of security, was a factor in her acquiescence. ·
4. As regards the geometric signs of the Amratian style, the sign Y now predominates
among the incised markings to the same degree to which the sign X predominated in the
earlier period. Since.the signY signifies the forces and paths leading from earth to heaven,
i. e., the sphere intermediate to earth and heaven, its ascendancy coincides with the new
phase of the cosmogonic myth (and of the sex relationship) that i~ discussed in paragraph 2
above. It also fits in with the ship symbolism that makes the voyage from the grave to heaven
the focal center of the cult of the dead. Here we can see clearly a persistence of the form
of a sign after the general religious content to which it relates has undergone change; hence
rived from the four-pointed star referring to the cardinal points that is particularly frequent
in Badari.
There are several significant new signs. One is the sign/ , used also in the inverted form,
/. These, when combined, produce the sign j' , an emblem of a Lower Egyptian province,
which on the pots occurs most ~requently in horizontal position. For this reason an interpre-
tation of its elements would have special importance, but I have been unable to establish
an association, beyond relating it to the herdsman's whip. Another new sign, or more ac-
curately, a new combination making use of an old sign doubled, is u. This may be in-
terpreted as a joining of two N forms by means of horizontals, or as a joining of the sign of
death (A) with the sign for house (11) and of the sign for house with the sign of life
(11 v), i. e., as signifying "house of death and life."
5. The most important of the incised markings is that representing a figure .(presum-
ably a man) with upraised arms. It corresponds not only with the forms of women with
similarly raised arms in the red-decorated Gerzean pottery but also with those of the relief
on a slate palette found by Petrie in Gerzeh. The sign has the same meaning when only the
trunk appears in place of the whole body: it is the first known representation of the ka,
the earliest found meaning of which is denoted by the various stars on the palette. The new
development is that among the markings we find also an inverse form-the figure of a falling
man with downhanging arms and a feather headdress (this is reminiscent of the head orna-
ment of the slain man on the Amratian vase). All torsos with downhanging or downward
bent arms probably have the same meaning: they supply a counterpart to the concept of the
ka. They were later specified to be shadows. We have seen in the case of many signs that in-
version produces an antithetic meaning, and it would seem that this principle replaces that of
the negative, which has been abandoned. The function derives from the idea of the opposite
positions of earth and heaven and of the two·orientations involved in transcending terrestrial
life. In conformity with the pessimism and despair of the era, the sign of the shadow is more
frequent among the markings than that of the ka; later, with the development of the cult of
the sun, the importance of the shadow decreases, while that of the ka increases. The sign of
the inverted male figure in the mural painting of H ierakonpolis, which is also found once
among the incised markings (Diospolis), has a meaning of the same order: this meaning, like
that of the ceremony of skin flagellation, is connected with the new cult of the dead and the
new cosmogony.
 6. It would take us too far afield to describe singly all of the uninterpreted elements
among the incised markings. I shall mention only one category-that in which the markings
approximate Greek and Roman letters. In all, the forms of nine Roman and thirteen Greek
letters, and the later W, occur in the Amratian and Gerzean painted devices and among the in-
cised markings. These are the Roman A, H, L, M, N, 0, S, T, V, the W, and the Greek
A, ~' 8, A, M, N, 0, II, ~' T, <I>, X, qr (the Roman A, H, L, and T, and the Greek A and
T, are found only among the incised markings). I have succeeded in interpreting six of the
Roman and eleven of the Greek forms; I have not found meanings for the A or T of either
group nor for the Roman H or L. The;e interpretations have established not only a connec-
tion between the Egyptian signs and the later alphabetic forms, but also the identity of the
content of these signs with that of word roots involving the given letters.
I do not wish to imply that these roots and the signs related to them were brought di-
rectly from Egypt to Greece or Italy-even less that an alphabet displaced in Egypt by
hieroglyphics came to Europe via Crete or Phoenicia. We have seen that some of the signs
were brought into Egypt in the. time between the First and the Second Culture by the in-
vading beaker folk, who probably in the same period or later spread them through Europe
as far as the Spanish peninsula and England, as was shown for the first time by W osinsky,
although this inyestigator did not know about the Egyptian branch of these nomads.· This
fact permits us to establish conjecturally to some extent the sounds corresponding to the
Egyptian signs. Moreover, we obtain an insight into the development of language. The roots
with which it begins here cluster around certain ideas, complex but specific. Later the ele-
ments of these complexes are separated, so that their content becomes differentiated. In this
process certain formal principles assert themselves, in addition to the principle of differentia-
tion; the principles of opposites of content and action and the principle of inversion, i. e.,
identity of the positive and negative, are particularly important. The gradual process of dif.: -
f erentiation of content probably compelled differentiation of the signs for roots into signs
for letters. Thus Europe was spared the detour of a picture language after the Sumerian or
Egyptian model.
Another important inference derives from the fact that the signs for roots are rarely
found as hieroglyphics; for this reason the latter are of little help in interpreting the pre-
historic signs. This inference is that the hieroglyphics are of non-Egyptian origin~ However,
the problem of the origins of the dynastic civilization, and that of its relation to the Sumerian-
Babylonian culture, are outside the scope of thi,§ 'book. De Morgan ·realized that the latter
problem also related to prehistory, and I am unable to understand why Waddell15 feels that
it is possible t? determine the origins of Egyptian civilization without taking all the pre-
historic excavations into account. If the question of historical causality is reduced to a whence,
it is pertinent to try to uncover the origin of the beakermen rather than that of the so-called
dynastic race.
In attempting t~ draw a picture of the Gerzean culture as a whole, we must first of all
. recall that the pottery forms and ornamentation constitute only limited evidence, since the
stone vases of the ruling classes are disregarded here. With this reservation, we obtain a
homogeneous picture of an ambivalent epoch, reflecting an internal split. The evidence of
the burial customs has shown us that the earlier attitude was preserved and even extensively
152
sys~ematized, while a number of the utensils formerly placed in the graves were no longer
provided. This raises two questions: Who was interested in the systematization, and by what
was magic replaced?
The pottery types-apart from the pa!nted vases used for purpo~es of display-represent
the old Amratiart forms gradually impenetrated by new forms, and include besides a com-
pletely new ware with forms of its own that recall the older Fayum pots, i.e., a north-
Egyptian tradition. Decoration is found only in this new ware, and with regard to both
content and technique it is different from the Amratian white ornamentation. It shows us
that the belief in the direct leap from the grave to heaven no longer prevailed; for this reason
the destination of the dead on leaving the earth was conceived as an intermediate realm. This
idea corresponds with the cosmogony. The ware of old Amratian type is provided with in-
cised markings that in part go back to Amratian signs and their archetypes-especially to
those of the totemistic clan period-and that in part represent new ideas, particularly that of
the ka and the shadow. Two different cultural groups were living side by side-the former
Amratian ruling ~lass, robbed of their leadership and continuing to practice ·their old cult
clandestinely, and the priests or officials of the new regime, who were compelled to admit
some elements of the old indigenous magic into their own ideology but greatly transformed
them. Possibilities of mutual influence were limited, because the vanquished refused to co-
operate, and thus there arose not a syncretistic unity, as at the end of the Amratian period,
but a hybrid structure that collapsed after the two protagonists were sufficiently weakened.
The geographical origin of the Gerzean culture seems to be sufficiently dear. T he pot-
tery forms and the greater part of the signs on the standards reflect beginnings in northern
Egypt. Caton-Thompson's remark on the technique of making axes in the Fayum and in the
Gerzean culture points in the same direction:
The combination of polishing and chipping so characteristic of Fayum neolithic
axes . : . is in fact an earlier example of the technique retained traditionally in the pre-
dynastic age, and exhibited in its fullest perfection in the great "ripple-flaked" knives of
the Gerzean age, when the blade was ground into shape prior to flaking. 16
This does not mean that the association between Lower and U pper Egypt reflected in
the Gerzean pottery is to be linked wit4 a conquest by Osiris or Horus. Likelihood of a con-
quest by Horus may even be ruled out, because the Horus sign appears only rarely on the
standards and even more rarely among the incised markings. As regards the possibility that
Osiris was the conqueror, his expedition is traditionally supposed to have started from the
eastern end of the delta, while archa'eological evidence points to invasion from the western
end. Moreover, it should not be.imagined that determination of geographical origin affords
sufficient explanation; for if Upper Egyptian culture could assert itself even in the Gerzean
period, one reason for this, and not the least important one, was the probable cultural poverty
of the north-Egyptian conquerors. If Petrie's dates for the separate elements of the red
decoration are correct, the actual decorative system was only gradually developed in the
south, probably in deliberate opposition to the white ornamentation. H owever, if the invaders
could provide only an·impulse for the development of the Gerzean culture, the question of
causation becomes all the more urgent. The answer is necessarily complex.
One of the major determinants of the Gerzean culture was the internal condition of the
153
,
Amratian culture. As we have seen, the absence of copper created the need of foreign trade,
while intercourse with any of the neighboring peoples was difficult. Moreover, this precious
metal was concentrated in the hands of a few, who used it for political purposes; thus the
most productive activity of homo faber-soil cultivation-was deprived of the benefit of
metal plows. Since development of more intensive methods of cultivation through relegation
of the hoe and introduction of the plow was blocked, there remained only the method of
extending cultivation by clearing virgin soil, expropriating the land of others, building irriga-
tion systems, and finding more laborers, i. e., enslaven:ient of the population. The opposition
to this trend was probably led by the magicians who served the cult of the dead, and the
resulting tension between the political and the religious rulers made the task of the invaders
easier.
These invaders brought with them fairly extensive commercial relations and a religious
ideology and organization that could be opposed to the tottering ideology of magic. All ex-
cavators agree that trade expanded in the Gerzean period and particularly emphasize the
relations with Asia Minor and the Sinai Peninsula, whence obsidian, lapis lazuli, and copper
were imported. While art declined, owing to an influx of people of a lower culture, technique
improved, because trade promoted craft activities. But expansion of trade and the crafts was
potentially limited. The copper imported from the Sinai Peninsula did not contain enough tin
to permit of the manufacture of bronze, and Lucas17 is probably right in emphasizing the
consideration that Egyptian hard stone could not be worked with copper implements. Thus
production of exportable goods was restricted. ' same pessimism, for the small scale in which the circumstances of princely existence are
In Lower Egypt, favorably situated near the seacoast, the traders encountered a peasant
population that did not produce articles for export and needed to import very little. There
was a market in Upper Egypt; but from the rock drawings of the eastern desert it may be
inferred that merchandise had to be transported there by a combination of land and sea
routes, just as in medieval times Oriental goods going to England were conveyed by laiid
between Marseille and La Rochelle. !his made commercial communication between the two
most progressive groups on the Nile and the Euphrates difficult, and Egypt suffered most. It
is therefore inadequate to explain the internal limits and the external collapse of the Gerzean
culture on the basis of currency difficulties, as Petrie does18 : "As soon as Egypt obtained a
full supply of copper ... at the close of the predynastic age, the united dominion became
possible." It is true, however, that an agricultural city-state could extend its dominion over a
large territory only when the currency problem was largely eliminated through an economy
based on slavery uniformly prevalent over the_whole realm. But even the conquerors could
contribute to.such an economy only in part. ,
It seems that the organization of the conquered country was placed in the hand~ of a
group who were closely associated with the new form of the old cult of the dead- with the
cult of the ship as replacing the cult of the stars. This may explain why the white ornamen-
tation was so thoroughly relegated that even among ~he incised markings we find practically
no representation of stars. Incidentally it would appear that the invaders from Lo~er, Egypt
directed their attack particularly against the beaker folk and that these as aliens within the
native population were least able to resist.
The trade war was at the same time a religious war and produced social transformations:
in its train came the concept of marriage as a community of work (and polygamy), as well
1 54
as slavery and the unification of secular and religious power. The conquerors were not strong
enough to assert themselns in Upper Egypt against internal resistance, but they were able
a
to give material production and social organization direction that could not be reversed,
because it was basically determined by the lack of adequate instruments of production. Fur-
thermore, they were able to lay bare the hopelessness of the cult of the dead, because the
new version of it was itself so hopeless and fear-ridden that it was doomed by its own defects.
't The introduction of slavery, and the processes that paved the way for the cult of the gods,
of which there is no definite evidence even in the Gerzean graves, had an identical cause-
namely, the fact that transition from the Stone Age to the Bronze Age was not possible, be-
cause of the lack of adequate raw materials. Thus the power of the princes was consolidated
on the basis of slavery, and to perpetuate it they created gods resembling themselves, prob-
ably with external help.
The Gerzean culture is the outcome of the first encounter between the peoples of Upper
and Lower Egypt, who had until then been isolated and whose material and spiritual cultures
had had completely different content and different tempos of development. It is a late culture,
obsessed by a hopeless sense of death, because life had reached an impasse in face of the
problem of a constantly increasing population with no corresponding increase in the means
of production. The fact that all allusion to concrete and contemporary life is banned from the
pottery motifs should be sufficient to confirm this assumption. Finally, the mural painting of
Hierakonpolis [XXXIV, XXXV] shows that even the ruler class was affected by the
represented, an~ the unceremonious transition from the activities or functions of the prince
in life to the rite of purification after death, contrast glaringly with the monumental scale of
the ships.
Because neither of the two lands had sufficient power to solve the real problem-that of
supplying the country with adequate plows and other metal implements-their late-achieved
unification broke down. Only after several vain attempts at restoration, and when the two
lands were internally disintegrating, did foreigners at last unite them by violence.
155
,
 NOTES
CHAPTER I
1. · Cf. M. Raphael: Prehistoric Cave Paint-
ings. Bollingen Series, IV. New York:
Pantheon Books, 1945, pp. 38 ff.
'
~. Cf. F. W. Green, in J. E. Quibell and
F. W. Green, Hierakonpolis (London:
B. Quaritch, 1902 ), pt. II, p. 2 l: "No
definite order seems to have been at-
tempted. It cannot be said that the lower
part represents the river bank, and the
upper part the desert; but the scenes seem
to have been put where there was room
for them, after the larger designs, such as
the boats, had been drawn." This view is
completely untenable. The little qlack
boat supplies the unit of measure for the
rhythmic structure of the painting.
3· G. Caton-Thompsonand E. W . Gardner:
The Desert Fayum. London: Royal An-
thropological Institute, 1934·
H. Junker: Vorliiufiger Bericht iiber die
4·
Graburzg [en] der Akademie auf der neo-
lithischen Siedelung von Merimde-Benisa-
lame (Westdelta) [1929-1934]. Vienna:
Akademie der Wissenschaften, 1929-34.
G. Brunton: Mostagedda and the Tasian
5·
Culture. London: B. Quaritch, 1937·
6. Cf. J. de Morgan: La prehistoire orientale.
Paris: P. Geuthner, 1926, 11, 47.
7· Cf. G. A. Reisner, The Early Dynastic
Cemeteries of Naga-ed-Der (Leipzig: J.
C. Hinrichs, l 1)08-32): "The inhabitants
of Egypt from the earliest predynastic
period down to the end of the protody-
nastic period form one continuous race."
This could be maintained only prior to
the time of the excavations made in Lower
and Middle Egypt.
8. Raphael, op. cit.
9· T . Mainage: Les religions de la preh~s­
toire. Paris: Desclee, DeBrouwer & Cle,
1921, pp. 178 ff.
JO. M. Hardy: La station quaternaire de Ray-
monden a Chancelade (Dordogne) et la
sepulture d'un chasseur de Rennes (Paris,
1891), pp. 45 ff. Cited in Mainage, op.
cit., p. 37.
I I. M. Blanckenhorn: "Die Geschichte des
Nilstromes in der T ertiar- und Quartar-
periode," Zeitschrift der Gesellschaft fiir
Erdkunde zu Berlin, 1903; Die Steinzeit:
Paliistina, Syrien und N ordafrika- Das
Land der Bibel, 192 r.
I 2. K. S. Sandford and W. J. Arkell: First
Report of the · Prehistoric Survey Expe-
dition. Oriental Institute Communica-
tions, .no. 3, Chicago: University of Chi-
cago Press, 1928; Paleolithic Man and the
Nile-Faiyum Divide, Oriental Institute
Publications, vol. X, Chicago: University
of Chicago Press, 1929; Paleolithic Man
and the Nile Valley in Nubia and Upper
Egypt, Oriental Institute Publications,
vol. XVII, Chicago: University of Chi-
cago Press, 1933. Cf. also K. S. Sandford:
Paleolithic Man and the Nile Valley in
Upper and Middle Egypt, Oriental Insti-
tute Publications, vol. XVIII, Chicago:
University of Chicago Press, 1934·
I 3· W. M. F. Petrie: Prehistoric Egypt, Lon-
don: -British School of Archaeology in
Egypt, 1920; Corpus of Prehistoric Pot-
tery and Palettes, London: British School
of Archaeology in Egypt, l 92 l; The
Making of Egypt, London: Sheldon
Press, and New York: Macmillan Co.,
1939·
Petrie at first assumed a date between the
sixth and eleventh dynasties (in W . M. F.
Petrie and J. E. Quibell, Naqada and
Ballas, London: B. Quaritch, 1896) but
later adopted the view of DeMorgan, who
was the first to advocate a prehistoric
date.
Cf. A. Scharff: Grundziige der iigyp-
tischen Vorgeschichte, Leipzig: J. C.
Hinrichs, 1927; H . Junker: "Die Ent-
wicklung der vorgeschichtlichen ~ul~ur
in .Agypten," in Fest;chrift: Publtcat~on
d'hommage offerte a P. W . Schmidt,
Vienna, 1928, pp. 865 ff.
16. W. M. F. Petrie: · Diospolis Parva. Lon-
don: Egypt Exploration Fund, l9or.
D. Randall-Maclver and A. C. Mace:
El Amrah and Abydos, 1899- 1901. Lon-
157
I'
 don and Boston: Egypt Exploration Fund, 8. Raphael: Erkenntnistheorie der konkreten par Emile Chassinat (Paris: E. Leroux, 41. Muller, op. cit.
1902. Dialektik. 1897- 1934), II, 31. 42 . E . A. T. W. Budge: From Fetish to God
9 .P. Bavier-Lapierre: "L'Egypte prehis- 2 I. L. Ideler: Untersuchungen iiber den in Ancient Egypt. London: Oxford Uni-
CHAPTER II Ursprung und die Bedeutztng der Sternna- versity Press, H. Milford, 1934, p. 335·
torique." In Precis de l'histoire de
l'Egypte. Cairo: Imprimerie de l'Institut men. Berlin: J. F. Weiss, 1809, p. 212. 43. E. Mey er: G eschichte des A ltertums.
1. For all factual data, cf. Caton-Thompson
and Gardner, op. cit. fram;:ais d'archeologie orientale du Caire, 22. G. A. Reisner: in A rchaeological Survey Stuttgart and Berlin: ]. G. Cotta, 1925-
1932-35, I, 20. of Nubia, Report for 1907-8-1910-11. 29, vol. I, pt. 2, p. 5 1.
2. Ibid., pl. Lil, figs. 7, 8. Egypt, Survey Dept. Cairo: National
IO. F. W. Bissing: Tongefiisse. Catalogue 44. This difference was not sufficiently taken
3. Ibid., pl XXIX, fig. 1. general des antiquites egyptiennes du Printing Dept., l9I0-27, p. 319. into account by De Morgan (op. cit., I,
4. Ibid., pl. VIII, figs. 1-5. Musee du Caire. Vienna: A. Holzhausen, W . M. F. Petrie, G. A. Wainright, and 2 36 ff.). Art does not provide us with

5. All factual data are taken, in part ver-
batim, from Junker, Vorliiufiger Bericht
. . . [1929-1934].
6. Junker's assumption that there was ex-
ercise of strict authority by a chieftain
seems to me to be in contradiction to the
spirit of this settlement.
7. 0. Menghin: in Junker, op. cit. (1931),
PP· 74 ff. .
8. T. Veblen: Imperial Germany and the
Industrial Revolution. New York: Mac-
millan Co., 1915.
9. Junker, op. cit., pl. XIX.
IO. Ibid.
1 1. All factual data are taken from Brunton,
op. cit.
1 2. M. Wosinsky: Die inkrustierte Keramik
der Stein- und Bronzezeit. Berlin, 1904.
13. M. Hoernes and 0. Menghin: Urge-
schichte der bildenden Kunst in Europa.
... Third edition. Vienna: A. Schroll &
Co., 1925.
14. Cf. M. Raphael: Erkenntnistheorie der
konkreten Dialektik. Paris: Edition Ex-
celsior, 1934, pp. 135 ff.
CHAPTER III
1. Junker: Die Entwicklung der vorge-
schichtlichen Kultur in Agypten, pp.
865 ff.
2. G. Brunton and G. Caton-Thompson:
The Badarian Civilisation and Predynastic
Remains near Badari. London: British
School of Archaeology in Egypt, 1928.
3. Ibid., p. 41.
4. Ibid.
5. E. A. W. Budge (tr.): Book of the Dead.
London, l 909, p. 2 5.
6. Zeitschrift fiir iigyptische Sprache und
Altertumskunde, vol. IV.
7. Raphael: Prehistoric Cave Paintings.
158
1913, no. 2074.
11. K,. H. Sethe (ed., tr.) : Die Altaegyp-
tischen Pyramidentexte. Leipzig: ]. C.
Hinrichs, 1908-22.
l 2. Randall-Maciver and Mace, op. cit.
13. H. R . H. Hall: Hierogly phic Texts from
Egyptian Stelae in the British Museum.
London: British Museum, Dept. of Egyp-
tian and Assyrian Antiquities, 191 1- 1.92 5,
vol. VI, pl. 5. Cited in H . A. J. Kees:
Totenglauben und J enseitsvorstellungen
der a/ten Agypter, Leipzig: J. C. Hin-
richs, 1926, p. 33.
14. P. Lacau: "Textes religieux." In Recueil
de travaux relatifs a l'archeologie et a la
philologie egyptienne et assyrienne, vol.
XXVI-XXVII, no. 24.
15. For the controversy over the date of in-
troduction of the calendar in Egypt, cf.
H. E. Winlock, "The Origin of the
Ancient Egyptian Calendar," Proceedings
of the American Philosophical Society ,
vol. 8 3 ( l 940), no. 3, and K. H. Sethe,
"Die Zeitrechnung der alten Agypter im
Verhaltnis zu der der andern Volker,"
KoniJr.liche Gesellschaft der Wissen-
schaften zu Gottingen, N achrichten
(Philol.-hist. Kl.), 1919-20.
16. C. G. Seligman: Egypt and Negro Africa:
A Study in Divine Kingship. London:
G. Routledge & Sons, 1934·
17. Cf. V. Loret: "L'Egypte aux temps du
totemisme." In Musee Guimet, Anna/es
(Bibliotheque de vulgarisation), XIX
( l 906), I 5 I -2 2 I.
18. W. M. Muller: "Egyptian Mythology."
In The Mythology of All Races, Boston:
) Marshall Jones Co., vol. XII ( I<}I 8).
19. A . Erman: Die iigyptische Religion. Ber-
lin: G . Reimer, 1905, p. 246, fig. 142.
20. L. Borchardt: /Egyptische Zeitmessung,
1920, p. 54, pl. 17. Citing M. de C. Roche-
monteix: Le temple d'Edfou-Publie in ex-
tenso d' apres !es estampages et !es copies
E. Mackay: The Labyrinth, Gerzeh, and
Mazguneh. London: British School of
Archaeology in Egypt, 1912, pl. IV, fig. 7 .
Kees, op. cit. Cf. also Lacau, op. cit.
Kees, op. cit.
Hoernes and Menghin, op. cit.
Cf. Raphael, op. cit., p. 178.
T. Hopfner: Der Tierkult der a/ten
Agypter. Vienna: A. Holder, 1913.
Horapollon H ieroglyphics, bk. ii, chap
20.
30. 0. H. Myers: "Two Prehistoric Objects."
Journal of Egyptian A rchaeology, XIX,
55·
]. E. Quibell: A rchaic Objects. Catalogue
general des antiquites egyptiennes du
Musee du Caire. Cairo: Institut franc;ais
d'archeologie orientale, 1904-5, vols.
XXIII, XXIV.
32· E. H. Naville (ed.): T extes relatifs au
mythe d'Horus recueillis dans le temple
d' Edfou. Geneva: H. Georg, 1870.
33· Cf. H. K. Brugsch: in Revue archeolo-
gique, 1867. ·
34· Loret, op. cit.
Book of the Dead. Quoted in G. Roeder
35·
(ed., tr.) : Urkunden zur Religion des
a/ten Agypten, Jena: E. Diederichs, 192 3.
E. M. Antoriiadi: L'astronomie egypti-
enne depuis !es temps· !es plus recutes
jusqu'a la fin de l'epoque alexandrine.
Paris: Gauthier-Villars, 1934·
37· Sethe: Die altaegyptischen Pyramiden-
texte, vol. II, nos. I002-3 .
38. Ibid., nos. 1877-78.
39· K. H. Sethe: "Die Ausdrucke for links
und rechts." Konigliche G esellschaft der
Wissenschaften zu Gottingen, N achrich-
ten (Philol.-hist. Kl.), 192 2, pp. 205 ff.
P. Le Page Renouf: The Lifework of Sir
Peter L e Page R enouf. Paris: E. Leroux,
1902-7, I, 289.
sufficient proof to trace the antecedents
of the Amratian culture directly to Asia
Minor. The obvious parallels may have
other reasons, such as common origin and
comparable conditions of life in the two
population groups.
45. 0. Keller: Die antike T ierwelt. Leipzig:
W. Engelmann, 1909- 13, II, 194.
46. I bid., I, I 58.
47. Sethe, Die altaegyptischen Pyramiden-
texte, vol. II, no. 1432.
48. Gundel: "Sirius." In Pauly:; R ealencyclo-
piidie der klassischen Altertum swissen-
schaft, 1929.
-+9· K. G. Lindblom: The Spiked W hee/-
T rap and its Distribution. Stockholm:
Broderna Lagerstrom, 1928.
50. H. A. Winkler: Volker und V .olker-
bewegungen im vorgeschichtlichen O bcr-
iigypten im Lichte neuer Felsbilderfunde.
Stuttgart: W. Kohlhammer, 1937.
51. ]. G. Frazer: The Golden Bough.
Abridged edition. New York: Macmillan
Co., 1922_, pp. 4 26, 443. By permission
The Macmillan Co., publishers.
sz. Cf. Wachter, in W osinsky, op. cit.
CHAPT ER IV
I. Petrie: Prehistoric Egy pt, pl. XXVIII,
fig. 17.
W. M. F. Petrie, Tools and Weapons
2.
Illustrated by the Egy ptian Collection in
University College, London. . . Lon-
don: British School of Archaeology in
Egypt, 191 7, pl. XXXIII, XXXIV .
3· Petrie, Wainwright, and Mackay, op. cit.
Junker: Vorliiufiger Bericht . .. [ 1929-
4·
1934].
W. M. F. Petrie: The Funeral Furniture
5·
of Egy pt. London: British School of
Egyptian Archaeology and B. Q uaritch,
193 7, chap. IV.
6. Kees, op. cit., chap. XII.
159

,
 7· Hopfner, op. cit. I 3· Petrie and Quibell, N aqada and Ballas,
8. Petrie: Prehistoric Egypt. P· 43 ·
L. A. Waddell: Egyptian Civilization: Its
9· P. E. Newberry: in Annals of Archae- Sumerian Origin and Real Chronology,
ology and Anthropology, vol. V (1913) . and Sumerian Origin of Egyptian Hiero-
IO. Hopfner, op. cit. glyphs. London: Luzac & Co., 1930. .
I 5· Ibid.
I I. Petrie and Quibell: N aqada and Ballas.
Cf. also Petrie, all subsequent publica- 16. Caton-Thompson and Gardner, op. cit.
tions. For the chronology, cf. Petrie, The A. Lucas: Ancient Egyptian Materials ·
Making of Egypt. and Industries. Second edition, revised.
12. W. Bayer: "Die Religion der altesten London: E. Arnold & Co., 1934.
agyptischen lnschriften." A nthropos, I 8. W. M. F. Petrie: Social Life in Ancient
1925, pp. 1096 ff. Egypt. London: Constable & Co., 1923.

PLATES

160 -
 ,., __ .., _,- ...,_- . .. .- ,_

4
2

., .., _..... ~·, __ , __

7
5

8
9

\0 7
---,.o-u"".'.,,;li. Nd

IO
I l

,
Pl. I
 rougli
pinl<y ·bu/I

\ -

7
Pl. II
 ·····-········-..
\ \

\
J
I 3
..... ___,.,.. ../
I

~= I 6
_J ....·

······1··.············-.:.~?
.
----~
:.
. :
........ --------- ------_.,
/

7 8 9
.
..
.
~····
~~~~~~~~L~~~~~~~~~~~~-~ ~~-~-~)
IO I I
12 13

17

Pl. III
 4
3
: 2
,
I '
:

0
6
•
I

-.
I

5 9 ~--

IO

12
I I

':.i_;.••
' '
~ ·.. __ ./ I 8

'-' -~... ... ....... I 9

Pl. IV
 '
I
I
\
''
'
I
..
'
'

BlAC.KENEO

, ,,

THICK BRN . SLIP

BLK INSIDE

..
'
''
' ·-- '.
'. .
'
'' ,
.
I
''
\ ,'
,,
I
' \
\ _____ . . 4
I
I
I
I

I
I
I

,
I

.,
I
I

-- -- -- ----
... -- --
•'
./LIP COMBED
BURNISHED IN a OUT.

c _ ::;» 7

\·---·\/.
i ;
'
'
.
.
.

) Ii
9

~
10

____ .......
RIPPLE

Pl. V
 I
I

..
I

__
I
I

• ,••
I
I

--.........._ - ,'
I
I
I

'In -·-·------------· FAINT 1'.ll'ft.l -·

2
3 4

~----;Q,__ "DES FAINTL'I RIPPLED INS. OUT

--------~
DK. BM llA5l 8
6 &.Uf Sl'I0011i: 8LK. INSIDE
7

....
.. DK.111\H .
fl.IPPL.£0 51'11\ALL'(
SIDES RIPPLED
•••••••••• Gl'.E1 BLK. INSIDE
FROM 'Wt!ORl IN 8'ilSE
ll!l. l....IDE IO 12 SECTION Pfl.OBABL'I' OVAL,
BLK. INSIDE I I
9

PL VI
 ,
,· -·-·-·- ....... , ......
,. , ~-
'·
\
i

'·-·-· - ·-·-·-·-
·-·-· -· -· -·----;
·, ;
\ i
' /
-·- ..,.•" ·'
2 3 4 5

'
'
'
I

I
I

~ ' ",, ~

6
,. ,4 f

7 8
<:::: :.:::::>
9,

................
............., ,,.. ,,
"' ••••••••••••• t

,,,

DK . 8RN. POL. \
''
PALE PINI<. SPOT& '
12
'
I
I
I

A I
I
I

IO I I
~ -----

Pl. VII
 I

r--
\ .
---· -

\
8

·\ J IO

6 7

\-
'

(
n
20
17

Pl. VIII
 \---- 7 \-
. --
"\- ----- . --· -1I .___ .·
\

4
3

I
·/

5 6

7 8

Pl. IX
 ,-----
\

-. . . . -
\
4
\ __ ,,
2
3 ""' 5

"

IO
8 . 9

6 ·7

12

I I

16 17

Pl. X
 5

2 4
3

'
0 7

8
6 I I
IO

15
12

Pl. XI
 I

5
4 7
2
3

IO
0
12
I I

16 17

Pl. XII
 3 4

5 6

7 9 IO

Pl. XIII
 2

6
5

I I
IO
9

I 3 I 5

Pl. XIV
 4 5
3

9
6 7

0 0
0

,, 0
...._ ::\

10

Pl. XV
 5.

••
:::----..1. 11~~~
.-•••••
H
6 8
7

Pl. XVI
 3
2

"
4

PI. XVII
 7 8 IO

Pl. XV III
 ••
9 IO

I 2

20

Pl. XIX
 2
3

0
Inside rim

Pl. XX
 4

pol. '<<-A.
8

IO

Pl. XXI
 ,......
·•·::-:
.... ~.::::::•
.• •:f.
· .111. . . . . . . . ..
A•-···••••••
A~!.!~!!~:~!:::
,}.•••••··:~::::::
h•• ··:==···:::::
''''•!: .. •··;; •.•.;
'····· .....
·~~~~~~ ·····~ . . . .,#

5 7
4
6

' ..... __

8 9 IO I I I 2

Pl. XX=II· ··--·---~-~---~- _ _____:____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

 3

6 7
PL XXIII
 '
I 2
5
3
4

Pl. XXIV
 2

4
5

8
9

I I

......,...
.
· //
:/
':'
:

IO 12 14

Pl. XXV
 •
2

3 4

• 8

IO

I I I 2

PL XXVI
 .. .. ..· .
, ,.
•• •• • • • •
: ;
-·····,··:
.. . ...,-···.....
... " ~ ,
·,·,···
••••
.... ..
~- ... •4:..

....., .,.,,..
·;"';
.
.....
. ··-
<,."' • •
.... • ••.•

2
....
, . , ....
-. ., "

- 1 3
5
4
.......-.
~

J ..
jJ" 1gl"1 TI
"' "' ~
6
7
12

~
8
Ill '

Ill IO I I

,,,
~

15

23
2 I 22
20

I.~~
I a I~
I• • m I
I •• 8
'• • • l
~.I
'I
._.,I~
I

26 28 30

Pl. XXVII
 5 6

3 4
2

8 9
IO

12

I I

16

ml[

17

18
•
'
19

20

21 22 23

PL XXVIII
II ;,._•---"*.._"
............_ I
-~~~~,...._...-
....
•
•rlll 0 fe •--.. .,..... ~ SJ. W 2
.......

5
Pl. XXIX
 2

Pl. XXX
 2 3

~c:=z;edkJ
-· ...
:: Je«;r;=:c
""',,, ....
: a
11111:0:11111

Pl. XXXII
 -

~
~
0" N1r \J

~
,.,

~ ~ ~
J ~~' ! •
0

~i l~
0
f 0

0 Jt{
T ~ 0{\

s~itw~
i7~f +
~lJifB .
3

Pl. XXXIII .
 . . . . . .... . ... ..

,1

Pl. XXXIV
 ..
;"
,, .. _______..-·-·-----·--·------ ........ _
- --·-·..

•\

~------------------~-----------------~/
_ .I_ - ·-~----_]

Pl. XXXV
 w *1017 H
w d .m 1 I
*- J_J ~ ~ [)}
9~v,lr- r\

Pl. XXXV I