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of the piece and to model for students a critical reading process that they
can adapt to other essays in the book. The introduction encourages
students to mark what they think are the most interesting and important
ideas in an essay and highlight or underline all sentences that they might
want to quote in an essay of their own.
“Writing about Ideas: An Introduction to Rhetoric.” In the tenth
edition, this section, which now immediately follows “Evaluating Ideas:
An Introduction to Critical Reading,” has been much expanded, with an
emphasis on developing thesis statements, using rhetorical methods of
development, and thinking critically to construct a strong argument. Many
new examples based on current selections in the tenth edition help students
find fruitful approaches to the material. This section explains how a reader
can make annotations while reading critically and then use those
annotations to write effectively in response to the ideas presented in any
selection in the book. “Writing about Ideas” draws on the annotations of
the Machiavelli selection illustrated in “Evaluating Ideas: An Introduction
to Critical Reading.” A sample student essay on Machiavelli, using the
techniques taught in the context of reading and writing, gives students a
model for moving from a critical response to a selection to writing their
own material. In addition, this section helps students understand how they
can apply some of the basic rhetorical principles discussed throughout the
book.

SELECTION HEADNOTES. Each selection is preceded by a detailed

headnote on the author’s life and work and by comments about the primary
ideas presented in the reading. The rhetorical techniques of the author are
described in some detail with a careful emphasis on the kinds of
techniques that students themselves can use. The discussion of the author’s
rhetoric is usually keyed to the rhetorical skills introduced in Writing
about Ideas. One emphasis is on examining how an author’s rhetorical
techniques can achieve specific effects.

PREREADING QUESTIONS. To emphasize critical thinking, reading,

and writing, prereading questions precede every selection. The content of
the selections is challenging, and these prereading questions can help
students in first-year writing courses overcome minor difficulties in
understanding the author’s meaning. These brief questions are designed to
help students focus on central issues during their first reading of each
selection.

EXTENSIVE APPARATUS. At the end of each selection is a group of

8
discussion questions designed for use inside or outside the classroom.
Questions for Critical Reading focus on key issues and ideas and can be
used to stimulate general class discussion and critical thinking.
Suggestions for Critical Writing help students practice some of the
rhetorical strategies employed by the author of a given selection. These
suggestions ask for personal responses, as well as complete essays that
involve research. A number of these assignments, labeled “Connections,”
promote critical reading by requiring students to connect particular
passages in a selection with a selection by another writer, either in the
same part of the book or in another part. The variety of connections is
intriguing — Lao-tzu with Machiavelli, Aristotle with Andrew Carnegie,
Adam Smith with Thomas Jefferson, F. A. Hayek with John Maynard
Keynes, Francis Bacon with Howard Gardner, Kwame Anthony Appiah
with Iris Murdoch and Michael Gazzaniga, Judith Butler with Margaret
Mead, Gilbert Ryle with Eric Kandel, Hsün Tzu with Aristotle, and many
more.
In this edition, I ask a number of questions in each of the six sections
of the book before the student reads any of the essays. This helps give
them a baseline for their own thoughts about government, culture, wealth,
mind, science, and ethics before they begin examining those ideas. Then, I
provide a number of follow-up questions at the end of each section to help
students see how much they have absorbed from the authors they have
studied.

INSTRUCTOR’S RESOURCE MANUAL. I have prepared an

extensive manual, Resources for Teaching A WORLD OF IDEAS, that
contains further background on the selections, examples from my own
classroom responses to the selections, and more suggestions for classroom
discussion and student writing assignments. Sentence outlines for the
selections — which have been carefully prepared by Michael Hennessy,
Carol Verberg, Ellen Troutman, Ellen Darion, and Jon Marc Smith — can
be photocopied or downloaded from the Instructor Resources tab on the
book’s catalog page at macmillanlearning.com and given to students. The
idea for these sentence outlines came from the phrase outlines that Darwin
created to precede each chapter of On the Origin of Species. These outlines
may be used to discuss the more difficult selections and to provide
additional guidance for students. At the end of the manual, brief
bibliographies are provided for all forty-eight authors. These
bibliographies may be photocopied or downloaded and distributed to
students who wish to explore the primary selections in greater depth.

9
New in the Tenth Edition
The tenth edition offers a number of new features to help students engage
and interact with the texts as they learn to analyze ideas and develop their
own thoughts in writing.

NEW ESSENTIAL READINGS. The selections in A World of Ideas

explore the key ideas that have defined the human experience and shaped
civilization. Of the forty-nine selections, twenty-two are new to this
edition, including works by Aristotle, Milton and Rose Friedman, Hsün
Tzu, Ralph Waldo Emerson, F. A. Hayek, Jacob Riis, John Maynard
Keynes, Francis Fukuyama, Friedrich Nietzsche, Karen Horney, John
Rawls, Gilbert Ryle, Robert Nozick, Erik Kandel, Howard Gardner,
Richard Feynman, Edward O. Wilson, Michio Kaku, Philip Kitcher, Lisa
Randall, Hsün Tzu, and Carol Gilligan.

REORGANIZED FOUNDATIONAL IDEAS. The selections in the

six sections — Government, Culture, Wealth, Mind, Science, and Ethics
— cover considerable historical periods and attitudes toward their subjects.
All six sections contain ideas that affect every one of us in a number of
important ways.
Government, with an emphasis on democracy, for example, is, as Aristotle
and Plato both knew, in many respects one of the most important ideas of
modern times (which is why the book starts with it).
Culture includes a number of social issues: gender studies, issues of justice,
prejudice, and a range of historical perspectives that affect all of us.
Wealth centers on the history of economics and how people have interpreted
the effects of money on society. In a society facing massive inequalities, it
helps to understand how important thinkers square the stress that great wealth
has put upon democratic governments.
Mind introduces several important issues: the question of the unconscious and
its effect on our lives; the mind-body problem, which has an effect on faith; and
the question of how a physical body can produce consciousness. I also
introduce basic ideas in classical psychology.
Science focuses more on the scientific way of thinking than on specific details.
Darwin’s ideas about evolution and Newtonian and Einsteinian theories of
gravity stand next to a major modern concern: how our understanding of
genetics will ultimately change the genes of human beings.
Finally, Ethics appropriately follows the first five sections because the behavior
of government, cultural forces, economists, brain and mind studies, and
scientific upheavals all must be governed by the best understanding of ethical
principles that will avoid injustice and oppression.

10
 It is important to see how these six great themes intersect in everyone’s
life. The new “Considerations” and “Reflections” questions I have
provided at the beginning and end of each of these sections are designed to
provide a way of reflecting on the great ideas that are explored in detail,
but they also are designed to help students understand how much they have
learned from the ideas in each section.

MORE “CONNECTIONS” QUESTIONS. Throughout the book,

students are asked to make connections and comparisons between writers
addressing the same great idea within the same great idea topic and
between writers addressing different ideas, helping to stimulate
comparative critical thinking and writing.

NEW “CONSIDERATIONS” AND “REFLECTIONS”

QUESTIONS. This edition features new chapter-wide questions at the
end of each part introduction and after the last reading in each section.
“Considerations” questions at the end of each chapter introduction ask
students to examine their own assumptions about the theme before they
begin reading. “Reflections” questions after the last reading in each
chapter ask students to reflect on what they have learned about the theme
and prompt them to find connections to the readings within their own
lives.

Acknowledgments
I am grateful to a number of people who made important suggestions for
earlier editions, among them Shoshana Milgram Knapp of Virginia
Polytechnic and State University and Michael Hennessy of Texas State
University–San Marcos. I want to thank Michelle McSweeney for her
work on the sentence outlines for this edition’s instructor’s manual, and I
again thank Jon Marc Smith of Texas State University–San Marcos and
Chiara Sulprizio of the Loyola Marymount University for assisting with
the manuals for previous editions. I also remain grateful to Michael Bybee,
formerly of St. John’s College in Santa Fe, for suggesting many
fascinating pieces by Eastern thinkers, all of which he has taught to his
own students. Thanks to him, this edition includes Lao-tzu.
Like its predecessors, the tenth edition is indebted to a great many
creative people at Bedford/St. Martin’s, whose support is invaluable. I

11
want to thank Charles Christensen, former president, whose concern for
the excellence of this book and whose close attention to detail were truly
admirable. I continue to appreciate the advice of Joan E. Feinberg, former
copresident of Macmillan Higher Education, and Denise Wydra, former
president of Bedford/St. Martin’s, whose suggestions over the years were
always timely and excellent. Edwin Hill, vice president of editorial for the
humanities; Karen Henry, editorial director for English; and Steve
Scipione, senior executive editor, offered many useful ideas and
suggestions as well, especially in the early stages of development, and kept
their sharp eyes on the project throughout. My editor for the eighth edition,
Maura Shea, is the professional’s professional. My editor for the ninth and
tenth editions, Alicia Young, has been a steady guiding hand, discussing
material with me and helping me make wise choices. She has been an
inspiration in dealing with sometimes intractable problems and responding
with encouragement and the kind of help only the very best editors can
provide.
Assisting her were a number of hardworking individuals, including
Jennifer Prince. Pamela Lawson, production editor, also helped with
innumerable important details and suggestions. Caroline Define, copy
editor, improved the prose and watched out for inconsistencies. Thanks
also to several staff members and researchers: Jenn Kennett cleared text
permissions, William Boardman found the cover artwork and designed the
marvelous cover, and Susan Barlow secured permission for all the new
images. In earlier editions, I had help from Diane Kraut, Maura Shea,
Sarah Cornog, Rosemary Winfield, Michelle Clark, Professor Mary W.
Cornog, Ellen Kuhl, Mark Reimold, Andrea Goldman, Beth Castrodale,
Jonathan Burns, Mary Beth McNulty, Beth Chapman, Mika De Roo, and
Greg Johnson. I feel I had a personal relationship with each of them. I also
want to thank the students — quite a few of them — who wrote me
directly about their experiences reading the first nine editions. I have
attended carefully to what they told me, and I am warmed by their high
regard for the material in this book.
Earlier editions named hundreds of users of this book who sent their
comments and encouragement. I would like to take this opportunity to
thank them again. In addition, the following professors were generous with
criticism, praise, and detailed recommendations for the tenth edition:
Caroline Alphin, Radford University; Deborah Barrett, Rice University;
Jon Brammer, Three Rivers Community College; David Calonne, Eastern
Michigan University; Jason Casem, Long Beach City College; Jane
Cleland, Lehman College; Laurie Lopez Coleman, San Antonio College;
Jeanie Crain, Missouri Western State University; Brian Curtis, Nashville

12
State Community College; Kathryn Denton, Ohio State University; Ajit
Dhillon, University of South Carolina; Heide Estes, Monmouth University;
Allison Fraiberg, University of Redlands; John Gist, Western New Mexico
University; Bruce Glenn, Arizona State University; Auston Habershaw,
MCPHS University; Deana Holifield, Pearl River Community College;
Pam Mathis, North Arkansas College; Lois McDonald, Pearl River
Community College; John Metoyer, City Colleges of Chicago–Wright &
Washington; Margaret Morlier, Reinhardt University; Garry Partridge, San
Antonio College; Ayaz Pirani, Hartnell College; Donna Pittman, Nashville
State Community College; Phil Poulos, California State University Los
Angeles; Lillian Ruiz, Greenfield Community College; Provvidenza
Scaduto, MiraCosta College; Suocai Su, Harold Washington College;
Lantz Simpson, Santa Monica College; Greg Underwood, Pearl River
Community College; and Stephen Wells, Community College of
Allegheny County.
I want to mention particularly the past experiences I had visiting
Professor Elizabeth Deis and the faculty and students of Hampden-Sydney
College in connection with their writing and humanities programs.
Professors James Kenkel and Charlie Sweet were gracious in welcoming
me to Eastern Kentucky University for workshops and classes using A
World of Ideas. These were delightful and fruitful experiences that helped
me shape the book. I am grateful to all who took part in these workshops.
—LEE JACOBUS

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or visit the Web site at macmillanlearning.com.

CHOOSE FROM ALTERNATIVE FORMATS OF A WORLD OF

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SELECT VALUE PACKAGES. Add value to your text by packaging

one of the following resources with A World of Ideas. To learn more about
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Writer’s Help 2.0. This powerful online writing resource helps
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Students who rent a book or buy a used book can purchase access and
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LaunchPad Solo for Readers and Writers. This resource allows
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 Pre-built units that support a learning arc
Each easy-to-assign unit is comprised of a pretest check, multimedia instruction
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Introductions offer an overview of the unit’s topic, and many include a brief,
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INSTRUCTOR RESOURCES. You have a lot to do in your course.

Bedford/St. Martin’s wants to make it easy for you to find the support you
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Resources for Teaching A World of Ideas is available as a PDF that can
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15
To the Student

When the first edition of A World of Ideas was published, the notion that
students in first-year composition courses should be able to read and write
about challenging works by great thinkers was a radical one. In fact, no
other composition reader at the time included selections from such
important thinkers as Hannah Arendt, Aristotle, Friedrich Nietzsche, Karl
Marx, Plato, Charles Darwin, or Mary Wollstonecraft. I had expected a
moderate response from a small number of people. Instead, teachers and
students alike sent me a swarm of mail commending the book for the
challenge it provided and the insights they gained.
One of the first letters I received was from a young woman who had
read the book after she graduated from college. She said she had heard of
the thinkers included in A World of Ideas but in her college career had
never read any of their works. Reading them now, she said, was long
overdue. Another student wrote me an elaborate letter in which he
demonstrated that every one of the selections in the book had been used as
the basis of a Star Trek episode. He sagely connected every selection to a
specific episode and convinced me that whoever was writing Star Trek had
read some of the world’s most important thinkers. Other students have
written to tell me that they found themselves using the material in this
book in other courses, such as psychology, philosophy, literature, and
history, among others. In many cases, these students were the only ones
among their peers who had read the key authors in their discipline.
Sometimes, you will have to read the selections in A World of Ideas
more than once. Works by influential thinkers, such as Jean-Jacques
Rousseau, John Rawls, Judith Butler, Adam Smith, Sigmund Freud,
Francis Bacon, Iris Murdoch, and Howard Gardner, can be very
challenging. But do not let the challenge discourage you. In “Evaluating
Ideas: An Introduction to Critical Reading,” I suggest methods for
annotating and questioning texts that are designed to help you keep track
of what you read and to help you master the material. In addition, each
selection is accompanied by a headnote on the author’s life and work,
comments about the primary ideas presented in the selection, and a host of
questions to help you overcome minor difficulties in understanding the

16
author’s meaning. Some students have written to tell me that their first
reading of the book was off-putting, but most of them have written later to
tell me how they eventually overcame their initial fear that the selections
would be too difficult for them. Ultimately, these students agreed with me
that this material is important enough to merit their absolute attention.
The purpose of A World of Ideas is to help you learn to write better by
giving you something really significant to think and write about. The
selections not only are avenues into some of the most serious thought on
their subjects but also are stimulating enough to sustain close analysis and
to produce many good ideas for writing. For example, when you think
about democracy, it helps to know what Aristotle said about it while
Athens enjoyed it, just as it is important to understand the ideals Thomas
Jefferson was championing when he penned the Declaration of
Independence. Mary Wollstonecraft was also a radical political thinker of
her time, advocating for greater respect and better opportunities for women
in a society that did not value their gifts and talents. Indeed, social justice
is integral to thinking about culture; John Rawls, the most important
modern philosopher of justice, measures justice always by its effect on the
neediest and least powerful segment of any society. Frederick Douglass
speaks from the perspective of a former slave when he cries out against the
injustice of an institution that existed in the Americas for hundreds of
years. And a hundred years after Douglass, the Reverend Martin Luther
King Jr. sent his “Letter from Birmingham Jail,” still demanding justice
for African Americans and freedom seekers everywhere. The questions of
ethics that still haunt us are treated by Iris Murdoch in relation to religion
and by Kwame Anthony Appiah in relation to situational and virtue ethics,
each of which concentrates on the relation of ones’ character to one’s
ethical behavior. All these writers place their views in the larger context of
a universal dialogue on the subject of justice. When you write, you add
your own voice to the conversation. By commenting on the selections,
expressing and arguing a position, and pointing out contradictions or
contrasts among texts, you are participating in the world of ideas.
Keep in mind that I prepared A World of Ideas for my own students,
most of whom work their way through college and do not take the idea of
earning an education lightly. For that reason, I felt I owed them the
opportunity to encounter the very best minds I could put them in touch
with. Anything less seemed to me a missed opportunity. I hope you, like so
many other writing students, find this book both educational and inspiring.

17
Contents

Preface for Instructors iii

Note to Students xiii

EVALUATING IDEAS: An Introduction to Critical Reading 1

WRITING ABOUT IDEAS: An Introduction to Rhetoric 11

PART ONE

GOVERNMENT 49
Some Considerations about the Nature of Government 54

LAO-TZU Thoughts from the Tao-te Ching 55

In recommending that a ruler practice judicious inactivity rather than
wasteful busyness, the ancient Chinese philosopher minimizes the
power of the state over the individual.

ARISTOTLE Democracy and Oligarchy 70

Having lived in Athens during the period of its democracy, Aristotle
had considerable insight into the political structures that existed in
ancient Greece. His analysis of the choice between democracy —
rule by the people — and oligarchy — rule by a wealthy few —
remains relevant to this day.

NICCOLÒ MACHIAVELLI The Qualities of the Prince 84

In this excerpt from the most notorious political treatise of all time,
Machiavelli, a veteran of intrigue in Florence’s Medici court,
recommends unscrupulous tactics for the ruler who wishes to secure
power for himself and stability in his domain.

JEAN-JACQUES ROUSSEAU The Origin of Civil Society 99

The eighteenth-century French philosopher Rousseau speculates
that members of a society forfeit individual freedoms for the greater

18
 good of all and stresses a revolutionary view — equality before the
law.

THOMAS JEFFERSON The Declaration of Independence 116

In this primary document of modern democratic government,
Jefferson justifies the right of the American colonies to dissolve their
bonds with a tyrannical monarchy and to construct a free nation of
independent souls in its stead.

RALPH WALDO EMERSON Politics 124

The most popular public intellectual of his time in America, Emerson
respected democracy, but warned against too much government and
too many laws. He praised the individual and individual rights and
the protection of property.

ALEXIS DE TOCQUEVILLE Government by Democracy in America139

Tocqueville, a French aristocrat, traveled extensively in the United
States in the 1830s and was struck by the sense of equality
expressed by nearly every American he encountered. His
Democracy in America remains one of the most profound and astute
commentaries on American democracy.

HANNAH ARENDT Total Domination 159

Arendt, a historian and political theorist, argues that terror is
necessary for the state to achieve total domination over the
individual and that the concentration camp represents the most
intense form of terror a state can exert in modern society.

BENAZIR BHUTTO Islam and Democracy 171

The former prime minister of Pakistan, Bhutto explains why there is
no impediment preventing Islamic nations from adopting a
democratic form of government while also recognizing the difficulties
that extremists have posed for representative governments in the
Islamic world.

Reflections on the Nature of Government 187

PART TWO

CULTURE 189
Some Considerations about the Nature of Culture 194

19
MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT Of the Pernicious Effects Which Arise
from the Unnatural Distinctions Established in Society 195
In this excerpt from one of the first great works of feminism,
Wollstonecraft argues that the laws, property rights, and class
distinctions of her day are mechanisms of control that deny women
their liberty and demean their lives.

JACOB A. RIIS The Color Line in New York 209

One of the first influential muckraking journalists of the twentieth
century, Riis centered his attention on the impoverished members of
several ethnic groups living in crowded and unsanitary tenements in
New York City. His work led to important changes in the lives of the
poor.

VIRGINIA WOOLF Shakespeare’s Sister 220

In this excerpt from A Room of One’s Own, her book-length essay on
the role of women in history and society, Woolf imaginatively
reconstructs the environment of Shakespeare’s hypothetical sister
and demonstrates how little opportunity she would have had in the
sixteenth century.

MARGARET MEAD Sex and Temperament 236

The anthropologist Margaret Mead attacks the idea that there is a
biological basis for what we may think of as a masculine or a
feminine temperament. She illustrates her argument with examples
from a number of societies whose views about masculinity and
femininity are quite at odds with any that we might recognize in our
own experience.

MARTIN LUTHER KING JR. Letter from Birmingham Jail 252

King, a minister and civil rights leader, advocates nonviolent action
as a means of changing the unconscionable practices of racial
segregation and of achieving justice for all.

JOHN RAWLS A Theory of Justice 271

The most distinguished contemporary thinker on the subject of
justice, Rawls argues that the essence of justice is fairness and that
decisions of governments or institutions should be guided by their
effect on the least powerful members of the society or group
concerned.

NEIL POSTMAN The Word Weavers/The World Makers 282

20
 Postman demonstrates how language shapes our understanding of
our culture. He demonstrates how metaphor controls meaning and
convinces the reader, explaining how our use of language essentially
controls our understanding of our world.

JUDITH BUTLER From Undoing Gender 298

Judith Butler calls the entire question of gender identification and
gender essentialism into question, relating the story of a young boy’s
mutilation in infancy that resulted in his being raised as a girl.

Reflections on the Nature of Culture 318

PART THREE

WEALTH 319
Some Considerations about the Nature of Wealth 324

ADAM SMITH Of the Natural Progress of Opulence 325

This excerpt from the classic work on modern capitalism The Wealth
of Nations explores the economic relationship between rural areas
and cities in an attempt to understand the “natural” steps to wealth.

KARL MARX The Communist Manifesto 335

Marx, the most thorough critic of laissez-faire capitalism, traces the
dehumanizing progress of the nineteenth-century bourgeois
economic structure and heralds its downfall at the hands of a united
international proletariat.

ANDREW CARNEGIE The Gospel of Wealth 360

The great American industrialist and steel magnate argues that it is
not only desirable but natural that some people in a free society
should be enormously wealthy and that most should not. He also
insists that great personal wealth is held in trust for the public and
must be given away during one’s own lifetime to support worthy
causes.

JOHN MAYNARD KEYNES The End of Laissez-Faire 376

In the aftermath of the First World War, Keynes, an architect of
contemporary economic policies, predicts the raw moneymaking
energies of capitalism will have to be harnessed through regulation

21
 to satisfy nationalist interests and our social conscience.

F. A. HAYEK Economic Control and Totalitarianism 386

A major twentieth-century conservative economist, Hayek praised
laissez-faire business practices and warned against the forces of
socialism in modern capitalist nations. He saw socialism as the first
stage in government’s asserting total power over the individual.

MILTON AND ROSE FRIEDMAN Created Equal 400

The Friedmans, noted conservative economists, consider the
Declaration of Independence’s insistence that “all men are created
equal.” Their view is that equality of opportunity is essential in a
democracy but that equality of outcome is a denial of personal
freedom.

ROBERT B. REICH Why the Rich Are Getting Richer and the Poor,
Poorer 422
The former secretary of labor talks about the different categories of
workers in the United States and the inevitable changes occurring as
the U.S. economy is altered by economic inequality at home and
globalization abroad.

FRANCIS FUKUYAMA The Middle Class and Democracy’s Future439

Fukuyama focuses on the function of the middle class in a modern
democracy. He sees a strong middle class as a modern
development since the time of Karl Marx, and declares that the
middle class will always support a liberal democracy as an antidote
to oligarchy.

Reflections on the Nature of Wealth 451

PART FOUR

MIND 453
Some Considerations about the Nature of Mind 458

FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE Apollonianism and Dionysianism 459

The nineteenth-century philosopher Nietzsche examines two
opposing psychological capacities that exist in all of us — divine
forces that we must balance in order to live well and fully.

22
SIGMUND FREUD The Oedipus Complex 477
After Freud posited the existence and functioning of the unconscious
mind, one of his most important — and controversial — theories was
the assertion that infants went through a stage in which they
unconsciously wished to possess their opposite-sex parent all for
themselves.

CARL JUNG The Personal and the Collective Unconscious 487

Jung proposes that as a cultural group we have a collective
unconscious — an unconscious awareness and wishes that
transcend the individual and represent the needs of the group to
which we belong.

KAREN HORNEY The Distrust between the Sexes 500

Horney, the first major female psychoanalyst, looks at Freud’s
theories and other cultures to establish her own theory of
development that accounts for the tangled relations between the
sexes.

GILBERT RYLE The Ghost in the Machine 514

Ryle takes issue with the eighteenth-century idea that mind and body
are separate entities. He sees the operation of the mind as a natural
function of the brain and not as something distinct that continues
after death.

ROBERT NOZICK Emotions 528

Nozick is a philosopher who treats emotions as an aspect of value in
the sense that our emotions inform us of the importance of specific
experiences. He raises the question of whether there are good
emotions and bad emotions.

ERIC KANDEL The Problem of Consciousness 539

Kandel discusses the mind-body problem from the point of view of
consciousness and its mystery. He links the unconscious to the
conscious mind and examines some of the current discoveries in
brain physiology and what we know about how the brain works.

HOWARD GARDNER A Rounded Version: The Theory of Multiple

Intelligences 556
Gardner, a contemporary psychologist, has a novel view of the mind
that proposes seven distinct forms of human intelligence: linguistic,
logical-mathematical, spatial, musical, bodily-kinesthetic,

23
 interpersonal, and intrapersonal.

Reflections on the Nature of Mind 574

PART FIVE

SCIENCE 575
Some Considerations about the Nature of Science 579

PLATO The Allegory of the Cave 580

Plato, the founder of Western philosophy, talks about the nature of
perception and the limits of the human mind, emphasizing the
difficulties everyone encounters in discovering the truth about
appearances.

FRANCIS BACON The Four Idols 591

A prominent figure in philosophy and politics during the reign of
England’s Elizabeth I, Bacon describes the obstacles that hinder
human beings’ efforts to understand the world around them and the
mysteries of nature.

CHARLES DARWIN Natural Selection 606

The scrupulous habits of observation that culminated in the landmark
theory of evolution are everywhere evident in Darwin’s analysis of
the ways species adapt to their natural environments.

RICHARD P. FEYNMAN The Value of Science 621

Feynman, a brilliant and popular physicist, reminds us that scientists
are not politicians or arbiters of social movements. They create and
make discoveries but do not decide how their creations and
discoveries are used; however, they express concern regarding the
moral implications of science’s role in our world.

EDWARD O. WILSON What Is Science? 631

Wilson composes a letter to a young scientist explaining what a
scientific hypothesis is, when a theory becomes a fact, and how
science relates to religion.

MICHIO KAKU The Theory of the Universe? 641

Kaku, a physicist concerned with the forces evident in the universe,

24
 discusses the superstring theory of particle physics as well as the
complexities of ten-dimensional hyperspace. He discusses quantum
theory as well as Einstein’s Special Theory of Relativity.

PHILIP KITCHER Inescapable Eugenics 656

Research into the manipulation of genes has led us to the question
of how we are to apply this knowledge to the human population.
Early practices in eugenics have had unhappy and often dangerous
results. The ability to produce children with “designer genes” may be
a concern in our time.

LISA RANDALL Newtonian Gravity and Special Relativity 670

One of the most imaginative of modern particle theorists, Randall
introduces us to mind-bending concepts of multidimensional
universes. She explains Newtonian and Einsteinian theories of
gravity and its forces. She ultimately reexamines our ordinary
concept of space and time.

Reflections on the Nature of Science 682

PART SIX

ETHICS 683
Some Considerations about the Nature of Ethics 687

ARISTOTLE The Aim of Man 688

Aristotle describes the search for the highest good, which he defines
as happiness. In the process of defining the good, he relates it to the
idea of virtuous behavior, living an ethical and moral life. For him, the
concept of morality is communal, not just individual.

HSÜN TZU Man’s Nature Is Evil 707

One of the revered ancient Chinese philosophers, Hsün Tzu
believed that humans were naturally evil and needed to be taught to
be good. He insists that people defer to the wisdom of the ancients
and learn to overcome their natural instincts in order to behave
ethically.

HENRY DAVID THOREAU Civil Disobedience 720

A man who lived by his ideals of justice, Thoreau explains how and

25
 why it is not only reasonable but also sometimes essential to disobey
unjust laws imposed by the state.

FREDERICK DOUGLASS From Narrative of the Life of Frederick

Douglass, an American Slave 743
One of the most eloquent orators of the nineteenth century,
Frederick Douglass reveals how an indomitable spirit reacted to a
system of law that sanctioned slavery, treated people as chattel, and
denied justice for them and their offspring into perpetuity.

IRIS MURDOCH Morality and Religion 757

Murdoch, one of the twentieth century’s most distinguished authors,
questions whether there can be morality without religion and
whether, if evil is conquered, the concept of morality would remain.

CAROL GILLIGAN Concepts of Self and Morality 770

Gilligan begins by asking how we can understand moral issues if
most of the research is limited to the views of men. She sees
women’s sense of morality as being somewhat different from that of
men. Her female students defend morality in specific ways and focus
on the concept of hurt.

MICHAEL GAZZANIGA Toward a Universal Ethics 784

Gazzaniga, a famous neuroscientist who has examined brain
physiology and the genetics of brain development, considers the
possibility that some people are genetically disposed toward
unethical behavior.

KWAME ANTHONY APPIAH The Case against Character 801

Appiah examines the question of whether “virtue” resides in
character or actions and considers the development of situational
ethics — the examination of people’s behavior in situations in which
ethical choices are decidedly unclear.

Reflections on the Nature of Ethics 817

Acknowledgments 818
Index of Rhetorical Terms 821

26
 Evaluating Ideas
AN INTRODUCTION TO CRITICAL READING

T HE SELECTIONS IN THIS BOOK demand a careful and attentive

reading. The authors, whose works have changed the way we view
our world, our institutions, and ourselves, make every effort to
communicate their views with clarity and style. But their views are
complex and subtle, and we must train ourselves to read them sensitively,
responsively, and critically. Critical reading is basic for approaching the
essays in this book. Indeed, it is fundamental for approaching any reading
material that deserves serious attention.
Reading critically means reading actively: questioning the premises of
the argument, speculating on the ways in which evidence is used,
comparing the statements of one writer with those of another, and holding
an inner dialogue with the author. These skills differ from the passive
reception we employ when we watch television or read lightweight
materials. Being an active, participating reader makes it possible for us to
derive the most from good books.
Critical reading involves most of the following processes:
Prereading Developing a sense of what the piece is about and what
its general purposes seem to be.
Annotating Using a pencil or a pen to mark those passages that seem
important enough to return to later. Annotations establish a dialogue
between you and the author.
Questioning Raising issues that you feel need to be taken into
consideration. These may be issues that you believe the author has
treated either well or badly and that you feel are important.
Questioning can be part of the annotation process.
Reviewing Rereading your annotations and underlinings in order to
grasp the entire “picture” of what you’ve just read. Sometimes
writing a summary of the piece as you review makes the meaning
even clearer.

27
 Forming your own ideas Reviewing what you have read, evaluating
the way that the writer presents the issues, and developing your own
views on the issues. This is the final step.

The Process of Critical Reading

PREREADING
Before you read a particular selection, you may find it useful to turn to the
beginning of the part in which it appears. There you will find an
introduction discussing the broader issues and questions central to all the
selections in the part. This may help you focus your thoughts and
formulate your opinions as you read the essays themselves.
Begin any selection in this book by reading its headnote. Each
headnote supplies historical background on the writer, sets the intellectual
stage for the ideas discussed in the essay, and comments on the writer’s
main points. The second part of each headnote introduces the main
rhetorical or stylistic methods that the writer uses to communicate his or
her thoughts. In the process of reading the headnote, you will develop an
overview that helps prepare you for reading the essay.
This kind of preparation is typical of critical reading. It makes the task
of reading more delightful, more useful, and much easier. A review of the
headnote to Niccolò Machiavelli and part of his essay “The Qualities of
the Prince” (p. 84) will illustrate the usefulness of such preparation. This
essay appears in Part One — “Government” — so the content can already
be expected to be concerned with styles of government. The introduction
to Machiavelli provides the following points, each followed here by the
number of the paragraph in which it appears:
Machiavelli was an Italian aristocrat in Renaissance Italy. (para. 1)
Machiavelli describes the qualities necessary for a prince — that is, any
ruler — to maintain power. (para. 2)
A weak Italy was prey to the much stronger France and Spain at this
time. (para. 2)
Machiavelli recommends securing power by whatever means necessary
and maintaining it. (para. 3)
His concern for moralizing or acting out of high moral principle is not
great. (para. 3)
He supports questionable means of becoming and remaining prince.
(para. 3)

28
 Machiavelli does not fret over the means used to achieve his ends and
sometimes advocates repression, imprisonment, and torture. (para.
3)
Machiavelli has been said to have a cynical view of human nature.
(para. 4)
His rhetorical method is to discuss both sides of an issue: cruelty and
mercy, liberality and stinginess. (para. 8)
He uses aphorisms to persuade the reader that he is saying something
wise and true. (para. 9)

With these observations in mind, the reader knows that the selection
that follows will be concerned with governance in Renaissance Italy. The
question of ends versus means is central to Machiavelli’s discussion, and
he does not idealize people and their general goodness. Yet because of
Machiavelli’s rhetorical methods, particularly his use of aphorism,1 the
reader can expect that Machiavelli’s argument will be exceptionally
persuasive.
Thus, as a critical reader, you will be well advised to keep track of
these basic statements from the headnote. You need not accept all of them,
but you should certainly be alert to the issues that will probably be central
to your experience of the essay. Remember: it is just as reasonable to
question the headnote as it is to question the essay itself.
Before reading the essay in detail, you might develop an overview of
its meaning by scanning it quickly. In the case of “The Qualities of the
Prince,” note the subheadings, such as “On Those Things for Which Men,
and Particularly Princes, Are Praised or Blamed.” Checking each of the
subheadings before you read the entire piece might provide you with a
map or guide to the essay.
Each passage is preceded by two or three prereading questions. These
are designed to help you keep two or three points in mind as you read.
Each of these questions focuses your attention on an important idea or
interpretation in the passage. For your reading of Machiavelli, the
questions are as follows:
1. Why does Machiavelli praise skill in warfare in his opening pages?
How does that skill aid a prince?
2. Is it better for a prince to be loved or to be feared?
In each case, a key element in Machiavelli’s argument is the center of
each question. By watching for the answer to these questions, you will find
yourself focusing on some of the most important aspects of the passage.

29
ANNOTATING AND QUESTIONING
As you read a text, your annotations establish a dialogue between you and
the author. You can underline or highlight important statements that you
feel help clarify the author’s position. They may be statements to which
you will want to refer later. Think of them as serving one overriding
purpose: to make it possible for you to review the piece and understand its
key points without having to reread it entirely.
Your dialogue with the author will be most visible in the margins of
the essay, which is one reason the margins in this book are so generous.
Take issue with key points or note your assent — the more you annotate,
the more you free your imagination to develop your own ideas. My own
methods involve notating both agreement and disagreement. I annotate
thoroughly, so that after a quick second glance I know what the author is
saying as well as what I thought of the essay when I read it closely. My
annotations help me keep the major points fresh in my mind.
Annotation keeps track both of what the author says and of what our
responses are. No one can reduce annotation to a formula — we all do it
differently — but it is not a passive act. Reading with a pencil or a pen in
hand should become second nature. Without annotations, you often have to
reread entire sections of an essay to remember an argument that once was
clear and understandable but after time has become part of the fabric of the
prose and thus “invisible.” Annotation is the conquest of the invisible; it
provides a quick view of the main points.
When you annotate,
Read with a pen or a pencil.
Underline key sentences — for example, definitions and statements of
purpose.
Underline key words that appear often.
Note the topic of paragraphs in the margins.
Ask questions in the margins.
Make notes in the margins to remind yourself to develop ideas later.
Mark passages you might want to quote later.
Keep track of points with which you disagree.
Some sample annotations follow, again from Niccolò Machiavelli’s
“The Qualities of the Prince.” A sixteenth-century text in translation, The
Prince is challenging to work with. My annotations appear in the form of
underlinings and marginal comments and questions. Only the first few
paragraphs appear here, but the entire essay is annotated in my copy of the
book.

30
A Prince’s Duty Concerning Military Matters

The prince’s profession should be war.

A prince, therefore, must not have any other object nor any other
thought, nor must he take anything as his profession but war, its
institutions, and its discipline; because that is the only profession which
befits one who commands; and it is of such importance that not only does
it maintain those who were born princes, but many times it enables men of
private station to rise to that position; and, on the other hand, it is evident
that when princes have given more thought to personal luxuries than to
arms, they have lost their state. And the first way to lose it is to neglect this
art; and the way to acquire it is to be well versed in this art.

Examples

Being disarmed makes you despised. Is this true?

Francesco Sforza became Duke of Milan from being a private citizen

because he was armed; his sons, since they avoided the inconveniences of
arms, became private citizens after having been dukes. For, among the
other bad effects it causes, being disarmed makes you despised; this is one
of those infamies a prince should guard himself against, as will be treated
below: for between an armed and an unarmed man there is no comparison
whatsoever, and it is not reasonable for an armed man to obey an unarmed
man willingly, nor that an unarmed man should be safe among armed
servants; since, when the former is suspicious and the latter are
contemptuous, it is impossible for them to work well together. And
therefore, a prince who does not understand military matters, besides the
other misfortunes already noted, cannot be esteemed by his own soldiers,
nor can he trust them.

Training: action/mind

Knowledge of terrain

Two benefits

He must, therefore, never raise his thought from this exercise of war,
and in peacetime he must train himself more than in time of war; this can

31
be done in two ways: one by action, the other by the mind. And as far as
actions are concerned, besides keeping his soldiers well disciplined and
trained, he must always be out hunting, and must accustom his body to
hardships in this manner; and he must also learn the nature of the terrain,
and know how mountains slope, how valleys open, how plains lie, and
understand the nature of rivers and swamps; and he should devote much
attention to such activities. Such knowledge is useful in two ways: first,
one learns to know one’s own country and can better understand how to
defend it; second, with the knowledge and experience of the terrain, one
can easily comprehend the characteristics of any other terrain that it is
necessary to explore for the first time; for the hills, valleys, plains, rivers,
and swamps of Tuscany, for instance, have certain similarities to those of
other provinces; so that by knowing the lay of the land in one province one
can easily understand it in others. And a prince who lacks this ability lacks
the most important quality in a leader; because this skill teaches you to
find the enemy, choose a campsite, lead troops, organize them for battle,
and besiege towns to your own advantage.
[There follow the examples of Philopoemon, who was always
observing terrain for its military usefulness, and a recommendation that
princes read histories and learn from them. Three paragraphs are omitted.]

On Those Things for Which Men, and Particularly

Princes, Are Praised or Blamed

Those who are good at all times come to ruin among those who are not
good.

Prince must learn how not to be good.

Now there remains to be examined what should be the methods and

procedures of a prince in dealing with his subjects and friends. And
because I know that many have written about this, I am afraid that by
writing about it again I shall be thought of as presumptuous, since in
discussing this material I depart radically from the procedures of others.
But since my intention is to write something useful for anyone who
understands it, it seemed more suitable to me to search after the effectual
truth of the matter rather than its imagined one. And many writers have
imagined for themselves republics and principalities that have never been
seen nor known to exist in reality; for there is such a gap between how one

32
lives and how one ought to live that anyone who abandons what is done
for what ought to be done learns his ruin rather than his preservation: for a
man who wishes to make a vocation of being good at all times will come
to ruin among so many who are not good. Hence it is necessary for a
prince who wishes to maintain his position to learn how not to be good,
and to use this knowledge or not to use it according to necessity.

Note the prince’s reputation.

Prince must avoid reputation for the worst vices.

Some vices may be needed to hold the state. True?

Some virtues may end in destruction.

Leaving aside, therefore, the imagined things concerning a prince, and

taking into account those that are true, I say that all men, when they are
spoken of, and particularly princes, since they are placed on a higher level,
are judged by some of these qualities which bring them either blame or
praise. And this is why one is considered generous, another miserly (to use
a Tuscan word, since “avaricious” in our language is still used to mean one
who wishes to acquire by means of theft; we call “miserly” one who
excessively avoids using what he has); one is considered a giver, the other
rapacious; one cruel, another merciful; one treacherous, another faithful;
one effeminate and cowardly, another bold and courageous; one humane,
another haughty; one lascivious, another chaste; one trustworthy, another
cunning; one harsh, another lenient; one serious, another frivolous; one
religious, another unbelieving; and the like. And I know that everyone will
admit that it would be a very praiseworthy thing to find in a prince, of the
qualities mentioned above, those that are held to be good, but since it is
neither possible to have them nor to observe them all completely, because
human nature does not permit it, a prince must be prudent enough to know
how to escape the bad reputation of those vices that would lose the state
for him, and must protect himself from those that will not lose it for him, if
this is possible; but if he cannot, he need not concern himself unduly if he
ignores these less serious vices. And, moreover, he need not worry about
incurring the bad reputation of those vices without which it would be
difficult to hold his state; since, carefully taking everything into account,
one will discover that something which appears to be a virtue, if pursued,
will end in his destruction; while some other thing which seems to be a
vice, if pursued, will result in his safety and his well-being.

33
REVIEWING
The process of review, which takes place after a careful reading, is much
more useful if you have annotated and underlined the text well. To a large
extent, the review process can be devoted to accounting for the primary
ideas that have been uncovered by your annotations and underlinings. For
example, reviewing the Machiavelli annotations shows that the following
ideas are crucial to Machiavelli’s thinking:
The prince’s profession should be war, so the most successful princes
are probably experienced in the military.
If they do not pay attention to military matters, princes will lose their
power.
Being disarmed makes the prince despised.
The prince should be in constant training.
The prince needs a sound knowledge of terrain.
Machiavelli says he tells us what is true, not what ought to be true.
Those who are always good will come to ruin among those who are
not good.
To remain in power, the prince must learn how not to be good.
The prince should avoid the worst vices in order not to harm his
reputation.
To maintain power, some vices may be necessary.
Some virtues may end in destruction.
Putting Machiavelli’s ideas in this raw form does an injustice to his
skill as a writer, but annotation is designed to result in such summary
statements. We can see that there are some constant themes, such as the
insistence that the prince be a military person. As the headnote tells us, in
Machiavelli’s day Italy was a group of rival city-states, and France, a
larger, united nation, was invading these states one by one. Machiavelli
dreamed that one powerful prince, such as his favorite, Cesare Borgia,
could fight the French and save Italy. He emphasized the importance of the
military because he lived in an age in which war was a constant threat.
Machiavelli anticipates the complaints of pacifists — those who argue
against war — by telling us that those who remain unarmed are despised.
To demonstrate his point, he gives us examples of those who lost their
positions as princes because they avoided being armed. He clearly expects
these examples to be persuasive.
A second important theme pervading Machiavelli’s essay is his view
on moral behavior. For Machiavelli, being in power is much more
important than being virtuous. He is quick to admit that vice is not

34
desirable and that the worst vices will harm the prince’s reputation. But he
also says that the prince need not worry about the “less serious” vices.
Moreover, the prince need not worry about incurring a bad reputation by
practicing vices that are necessary if he wishes to hold his state. In the
same spirit, Machiavelli tells us that there are some virtues that might lead
to the destruction of the prince.

FORMING YOUR OWN IDEAS

One of the most important reasons for critically reading the texts in this
book is to enable you to develop your own positions on issues that these
writers raise. Identifying and clarifying the main ideas is only the first
step; the next step in critical reading is evaluating those ideas.
For example, you might ask whether Machiavelli’s ideas have any
relevance for today. After all, he wrote nearly five hundred years ago and
times have changed. You might feel that Machiavelli was relevant strictly
during the Italian Renaissance or, alternatively, that his principles are
timeless and have something to teach every age. For most people,
Machiavelli is a political philosopher whose views are useful anytime and
anywhere.
If you agree with the majority, then you may want to examine
Machiavelli’s ideas to see whether you can accept them. Consider just two
of those ideas and their implications:
Should rulers always be members of the military? Should they always
be armed? Should the ruler of a nation first demonstrate competence
as a military leader?
Should rulers ignore virtue and practice vice when it is convenient?
In his commentary on government, which is also included in Part One,
Lao-tzu offers different advice from Machiavelli because his assumptions
are that the ruler ought to respect the rights of individuals. For Lao-tzu the
waging of war is an annoying, essentially wasteful activity. Machiavelli,
on the other hand, never questions the usefulness of war: to him, it is basic
to government. As a critical reader, you can take issue with such an
assumption, and in doing so you will deepen your understanding of
Machiavelli.
If we were to follow Machiavelli’s advice, then we would choose
American presidents on the basis of whether or not they had been good
military leaders. Among those we would not have chosen might be
Thomas Jefferson, Abraham Lincoln, and Franklin Delano Roosevelt.
Those who were high-ranking military men include George Washington,

35
Another random document with
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 DANCE ON STILTS AT THE GIRLS’ UNYAGO, NIUCHI

Newala, too, suffers from the distance of its water-supply—at least

the Newala of to-day does; there was once another Newala in a lovely
valley at the foot of the plateau. I visited it and found scarcely a trace
of houses, only a Christian cemetery, with the graves of several
missionaries and their converts, remaining as a monument of its
former glories. But the surroundings are wonderfully beautiful. A
thick grove of splendid mango-trees closes in the weather-worn
crosses and headstones; behind them, combining the useful and the
agreeable, is a whole plantation of lemon-trees covered with ripe
fruit; not the small African kind, but a much larger and also juicier
imported variety, which drops into the hands of the passing traveller,
without calling for any exertion on his part. Old Newala is now under
the jurisdiction of the native pastor, Daudi, at Chingulungulu, who,
as I am on very friendly terms with him, allows me, as a matter of
course, the use of this lemon-grove during my stay at Newala.
 FEET MUTILATED BY THE RAVAGES OF THE “JIGGER”
(Sarcopsylla penetrans)

The water-supply of New Newala is in the bottom of the valley,

some 1,600 feet lower down. The way is not only long and fatiguing,
but the water, when we get it, is thoroughly bad. We are suffering not
only from this, but from the fact that the arrangements at Newala are
nothing short of luxurious. We have a separate kitchen—a hut built
against the boma palisade on the right of the baraza, the interior of
which is not visible from our usual position. Our two cooks were not
long in finding this out, and they consequently do—or rather neglect
to do—what they please. In any case they do not seem to be very
particular about the boiling of our drinking-water—at least I can
attribute to no other cause certain attacks of a dysenteric nature,
from which both Knudsen and I have suffered for some time. If a
man like Omari has to be left unwatched for a moment, he is capable
of anything. Besides this complaint, we are inconvenienced by the
state of our nails, which have become as hard as glass, and crack on
the slightest provocation, and I have the additional infliction of
pimples all over me. As if all this were not enough, we have also, for
the last week been waging war against the jigger, who has found his
Eldorado in the hot sand of the Makonde plateau. Our men are seen
all day long—whenever their chronic colds and the dysentery likewise
raging among them permit—occupied in removing this scourge of
Africa from their feet and trying to prevent the disastrous
consequences of its presence. It is quite common to see natives of
this place with one or two toes missing; many have lost all their toes,
or even the whole front part of the foot, so that a well-formed leg
ends in a shapeless stump. These ravages are caused by the female of
Sarcopsylla penetrans, which bores its way under the skin and there
develops an egg-sac the size of a pea. In all books on the subject, it is
stated that one’s attention is called to the presence of this parasite by
an intolerable itching. This agrees very well with my experience, so
far as the softer parts of the sole, the spaces between and under the
toes, and the side of the foot are concerned, but if the creature
penetrates through the harder parts of the heel or ball of the foot, it
may escape even the most careful search till it has reached maturity.
Then there is no time to be lost, if the horrible ulceration, of which
we see cases by the dozen every day, is to be prevented. It is much
easier, by the way, to discover the insect on the white skin of a
European than on that of a native, on which the dark speck scarcely
shows. The four or five jiggers which, in spite of the fact that I
constantly wore high laced boots, chose my feet to settle in, were
taken out for me by the all-accomplished Knudsen, after which I
thought it advisable to wash out the cavities with corrosive
sublimate. The natives have a different sort of disinfectant—they fill
the hole with scraped roots. In a tiny Makua village on the slope of
the plateau south of Newala, we saw an old woman who had filled all
the spaces under her toe-nails with powdered roots by way of
prophylactic treatment. What will be the result, if any, who can say?
The rest of the many trifling ills which trouble our existence are
really more comic than serious. In the absence of anything else to
smoke, Knudsen and I at last opened a box of cigars procured from
the Indian store-keeper at Lindi, and tried them, with the most
distressing results. Whether they contain opium or some other
narcotic, neither of us can say, but after the tenth puff we were both
“off,” three-quarters stupefied and unspeakably wretched. Slowly we
recovered—and what happened next? Half-an-hour later we were
once more smoking these poisonous concoctions—so insatiable is the
craving for tobacco in the tropics.
Even my present attacks of fever scarcely deserve to be taken
seriously. I have had no less than three here at Newala, all of which
have run their course in an incredibly short time. In the early
afternoon, I am busy with my old natives, asking questions and
making notes. The strong midday coffee has stimulated my spirits to
an extraordinary degree, the brain is active and vigorous, and work
progresses rapidly, while a pleasant warmth pervades the whole
body. Suddenly this gives place to a violent chill, forcing me to put on
my overcoat, though it is only half-past three and the afternoon sun
is at its hottest. Now the brain no longer works with such acuteness
and logical precision; more especially does it fail me in trying to
establish the syntax of the difficult Makua language on which I have
ventured, as if I had not enough to do without it. Under the
circumstances it seems advisable to take my temperature, and I do
so, to save trouble, without leaving my seat, and while going on with
my work. On examination, I find it to be 101·48°. My tutors are
abruptly dismissed and my bed set up in the baraza; a few minutes
later I am in it and treating myself internally with hot water and
lemon-juice.
Three hours later, the thermometer marks nearly 104°, and I make
them carry me back into the tent, bed and all, as I am now perspiring
heavily, and exposure to the cold wind just beginning to blow might
mean a fatal chill. I lie still for a little while, and then find, to my
great relief, that the temperature is not rising, but rather falling. This
is about 7.30 p.m. At 8 p.m. I find, to my unbounded astonishment,
that it has fallen below 98·6°, and I feel perfectly well. I read for an
hour or two, and could very well enjoy a smoke, if I had the
wherewithal—Indian cigars being out of the question.
Having no medical training, I am at a loss to account for this state
of things. It is impossible that these transitory attacks of high fever
should be malarial; it seems more probable that they are due to a
kind of sunstroke. On consulting my note-book, I become more and
more inclined to think this is the case, for these attacks regularly
follow extreme fatigue and long exposure to strong sunshine. They at
least have the advantage of being only short interruptions to my
work, as on the following morning I am always quite fresh and fit.
My treasure of a cook is suffering from an enormous hydrocele which
makes it difficult for him to get up, and Moritz is obliged to keep in
the dark on account of his inflamed eyes. Knudsen’s cook, a raw boy
from somewhere in the bush, knows still less of cooking than Omari;
consequently Nils Knudsen himself has been promoted to the vacant
post. Finding that we had come to the end of our supplies, he began
by sending to Chingulungulu for the four sucking-pigs which we had
bought from Matola and temporarily left in his charge; and when
they came up, neatly packed in a large crate, he callously slaughtered
the biggest of them. The first joint we were thoughtless enough to
entrust for roasting to Knudsen’s mshenzi cook, and it was
consequently uneatable; but we made the rest of the animal into a
jelly which we ate with great relish after weeks of underfeeding,
consuming incredible helpings of it at both midday and evening
meals. The only drawback is a certain want of variety in the tinned
vegetables. Dr. Jäger, to whom the Geographical Commission
entrusted the provisioning of the expeditions—mine as well as his
own—because he had more time on his hands than the rest of us,
seems to have laid in a huge stock of Teltow turnips,[46] an article of
food which is all very well for occasional use, but which quickly palls
when set before one every day; and we seem to have no other tins
left. There is no help for it—we must put up with the turnips; but I
am certain that, once I am home again, I shall not touch them for ten
years to come.
Amid all these minor evils, which, after all, go to make up the
genuine flavour of Africa, there is at least one cheering touch:
Knudsen has, with the dexterity of a skilled mechanic, repaired my 9
× 12 cm. camera, at least so far that I can use it with a little care.
How, in the absence of finger-nails, he was able to accomplish such a
ticklish piece of work, having no tool but a clumsy screw-driver for
taking to pieces and putting together again the complicated
mechanism of the instantaneous shutter, is still a mystery to me; but
he did it successfully. The loss of his finger-nails shows him in a light
contrasting curiously enough with the intelligence evinced by the
above operation; though, after all, it is scarcely surprising after his
ten years’ residence in the bush. One day, at Lindi, he had occasion
to wash a dog, which must have been in need of very thorough
cleansing, for the bottle handed to our friend for the purpose had an
extremely strong smell. Having performed his task in the most
conscientious manner, he perceived with some surprise that the dog
did not appear much the better for it, and was further surprised by
finding his own nails ulcerating away in the course of the next few
days. “How was I to know that carbolic acid has to be diluted?” he
mutters indignantly, from time to time, with a troubled gaze at his
mutilated finger-tips.
 Since we came to Newala we have been making excursions in all
directions through the surrounding country, in accordance with old
habit, and also because the akida Sefu did not get together the tribal
elders from whom I wanted information so speedily as he had
promised. There is, however, no harm done, as, even if seen only
from the outside, the country and people are interesting enough.
The Makonde plateau is like a large rectangular table rounded off
at the corners. Measured from the Indian Ocean to Newala, it is
about seventy-five miles long, and between the Rovuma and the
Lukuledi it averages fifty miles in breadth, so that its superficial area
is about two-thirds of that of the kingdom of Saxony. The surface,
however, is not level, but uniformly inclined from its south-western
edge to the ocean. From the upper edge, on which Newala lies, the
eye ranges for many miles east and north-east, without encountering
any obstacle, over the Makonde bush. It is a green sea, from which
here and there thick clouds of smoke rise, to show that it, too, is
inhabited by men who carry on their tillage like so many other
primitive peoples, by cutting down and burning the bush, and
manuring with the ashes. Even in the radiant light of a tropical day
such a fire is a grand sight.
Much less effective is the impression produced just now by the
great western plain as seen from the edge of the plateau. As often as
time permits, I stroll along this edge, sometimes in one direction,
sometimes in another, in the hope of finding the air clear enough to
let me enjoy the view; but I have always been disappointed.
Wherever one looks, clouds of smoke rise from the burning bush,
and the air is full of smoke and vapour. It is a pity, for under more
favourable circumstances the panorama of the whole country up to
the distant Majeje hills must be truly magnificent. It is of little use
taking photographs now, and an outline sketch gives a very poor idea
of the scenery. In one of these excursions I went out of my way to
make a personal attempt on the Makonde bush. The present edge of
the plateau is the result of a far-reaching process of destruction
through erosion and denudation. The Makonde strata are
everywhere cut into by ravines, which, though short, are hundreds of
yards in depth. In consequence of the loose stratification of these
beds, not only are the walls of these ravines nearly vertical, but their
upper end is closed by an equally steep escarpment, so that the
western edge of the Makonde plateau is hemmed in by a series of
deep, basin-like valleys. In order to get from one side of such a ravine
to the other, I cut my way through the bush with a dozen of my men.
It was a very open part, with more grass than scrub, but even so the
short stretch of less than two hundred yards was very hard work; at
the end of it the men’s calicoes were in rags and they themselves
bleeding from hundreds of scratches, while even our strong khaki
suits had not escaped scatheless.

NATIVE PATH THROUGH THE MAKONDE BUSH, NEAR

MAHUTA

I see increasing reason to believe that the view formed some time
back as to the origin of the Makonde bush is the correct one. I have
no doubt that it is not a natural product, but the result of human
occupation. Those parts of the high country where man—as a very
slight amount of practice enables the eye to perceive at once—has not
yet penetrated with axe and hoe, are still occupied by a splendid
timber forest quite able to sustain a comparison with our mixed
forests in Germany. But wherever man has once built his hut or tilled
his field, this horrible bush springs up. Every phase of this process
may be seen in the course of a couple of hours’ walk along the main
road. From the bush to right or left, one hears the sound of the axe—
not from one spot only, but from several directions at once. A few
steps further on, we can see what is taking place. The brush has been
cut down and piled up in heaps to the height of a yard or more,
between which the trunks of the large trees stand up like the last
pillars of a magnificent ruined building. These, too, present a
melancholy spectacle: the destructive Makonde have ringed them—
cut a broad strip of bark all round to ensure their dying off—and also
piled up pyramids of brush round them. Father and son, mother and
son-in-law, are chopping away perseveringly in the background—too
busy, almost, to look round at the white stranger, who usually excites
so much interest. If you pass by the same place a week later, the piles
of brushwood have disappeared and a thick layer of ashes has taken
the place of the green forest. The large trees stretch their
smouldering trunks and branches in dumb accusation to heaven—if
they have not already fallen and been more or less reduced to ashes,
perhaps only showing as a white stripe on the dark ground.
This work of destruction is carried out by the Makonde alike on the
virgin forest and on the bush which has sprung up on sites already
cultivated and deserted. In the second case they are saved the trouble
of burning the large trees, these being entirely absent in the
secondary bush.
After burning this piece of forest ground and loosening it with the
hoe, the native sows his corn and plants his vegetables. All over the
country, he goes in for bed-culture, which requires, and, in fact,
receives, the most careful attention. Weeds are nowhere tolerated in
the south of German East Africa. The crops may fail on the plains,
where droughts are frequent, but never on the plateau with its
abundant rains and heavy dews. Its fortunate inhabitants even have
the satisfaction of seeing the proud Wayao and Wamakua working
for them as labourers, driven by hunger to serve where they were
accustomed to rule.
But the light, sandy soil is soon exhausted, and would yield no
harvest the second year if cultivated twice running. This fact has
been familiar to the native for ages; consequently he provides in
time, and, while his crop is growing, prepares the next plot with axe
and firebrand. Next year he plants this with his various crops and
lets the first piece lie fallow. For a short time it remains waste and
desolate; then nature steps in to repair the destruction wrought by
man; a thousand new growths spring out of the exhausted soil, and
even the old stumps put forth fresh shoots. Next year the new growth
is up to one’s knees, and in a few years more it is that terrible,
impenetrable bush, which maintains its position till the black
occupier of the land has made the round of all the available sites and
come back to his starting point.
The Makonde are, body and soul, so to speak, one with this bush.
According to my Yao informants, indeed, their name means nothing
else but “bush people.” Their own tradition says that they have been
settled up here for a very long time, but to my surprise they laid great
stress on an original immigration. Their old homes were in the
south-east, near Mikindani and the mouth of the Rovuma, whence
their peaceful forefathers were driven by the continual raids of the
Sakalavas from Madagascar and the warlike Shirazis[47] of the coast,
to take refuge on the almost inaccessible plateau. I have studied
African ethnology for twenty years, but the fact that changes of
population in this apparently quiet and peaceable corner of the earth
could have been occasioned by outside enterprises taking place on
the high seas, was completely new to me. It is, no doubt, however,
correct.
The charming tribal legend of the Makonde—besides informing us
of other interesting matters—explains why they have to live in the
thickest of the bush and a long way from the edge of the plateau,
instead of making their permanent homes beside the purling brooks
and springs of the low country.
“The place where the tribe originated is Mahuta, on the southern
side of the plateau towards the Rovuma, where of old time there was
nothing but thick bush. Out of this bush came a man who never
washed himself or shaved his head, and who ate and drank but little.
He went out and made a human figure from the wood of a tree
growing in the open country, which he took home to his abode in the
bush and there set it upright. In the night this image came to life and
was a woman. The man and woman went down together to the
Rovuma to wash themselves. Here the woman gave birth to a still-
born child. They left that place and passed over the high land into the
valley of the Mbemkuru, where the woman had another child, which
was also born dead. Then they returned to the high bush country of
Mahuta, where the third child was born, which lived and grew up. In
course of time, the couple had many more children, and called
themselves Wamatanda. These were the ancestral stock of the
Makonde, also called Wamakonde,[48] i.e., aborigines. Their
forefather, the man from the bush, gave his children the command to
bury their dead upright, in memory of the mother of their race who
was cut out of wood and awoke to life when standing upright. He also
warned them against settling in the valleys and near large streams,
for sickness and death dwelt there. They were to make it a rule to
have their huts at least an hour’s walk from the nearest watering-
place; then their children would thrive and escape illness.”
The explanation of the name Makonde given by my informants is
somewhat different from that contained in the above legend, which I
extract from a little book (small, but packed with information), by
Pater Adams, entitled Lindi und sein Hinterland. Otherwise, my
results agree exactly with the statements of the legend. Washing?
Hapana—there is no such thing. Why should they do so? As it is, the
supply of water scarcely suffices for cooking and drinking; other
people do not wash, so why should the Makonde distinguish himself
by such needless eccentricity? As for shaving the head, the short,
woolly crop scarcely needs it,[49] so the second ancestral precept is
likewise easy enough to follow. Beyond this, however, there is
nothing ridiculous in the ancestor’s advice. I have obtained from
various local artists a fairly large number of figures carved in wood,
ranging from fifteen to twenty-three inches in height, and
representing women belonging to the great group of the Mavia,
Makonde, and Matambwe tribes. The carving is remarkably well
done and renders the female type with great accuracy, especially the
keloid ornamentation, to be described later on. As to the object and
meaning of their works the sculptors either could or (more probably)
would tell me nothing, and I was forced to content myself with the
scanty information vouchsafed by one man, who said that the figures
were merely intended to represent the nembo—the artificial
deformations of pelele, ear-discs, and keloids. The legend recorded
by Pater Adams places these figures in a new light. They must surely
be more than mere dolls; and we may even venture to assume that
they are—though the majority of present-day Makonde are probably
unaware of the fact—representations of the tribal ancestress.
 The references in the legend to the descent from Mahuta to the
Rovuma, and to a journey across the highlands into the Mbekuru
valley, undoubtedly indicate the previous history of the tribe, the
travels of the ancestral pair typifying the migrations of their
descendants. The descent to the neighbouring Rovuma valley, with
its extraordinary fertility and great abundance of game, is intelligible
at a glance—but the crossing of the Lukuledi depression, the ascent
to the Rondo Plateau and the descent to the Mbemkuru, also lie
within the bounds of probability, for all these districts have exactly
the same character as the extreme south. Now, however, comes a
point of especial interest for our bacteriological age. The primitive
Makonde did not enjoy their lives in the marshy river-valleys.
Disease raged among them, and many died. It was only after they
had returned to their original home near Mahuta, that the health
conditions of these people improved. We are very apt to think of the
African as a stupid person whose ignorance of nature is only equalled
by his fear of it, and who looks on all mishaps as caused by evil
spirits and malignant natural powers. It is much more correct to
assume in this case that the people very early learnt to distinguish
districts infested with malaria from those where it is absent.
This knowledge is crystallized in the
ancestral warning against settling in the
valleys and near the great waters, the
dwelling-places of disease and death. At the
same time, for security against the hostile
Mavia south of the Rovuma, it was enacted
that every settlement must be not less than a
certain distance from the southern edge of the
plateau. Such in fact is their mode of life at the
present day. It is not such a bad one, and
certainly they are both safer and more
comfortable than the Makua, the recent
intruders from the south, who have made USUAL METHOD OF
good their footing on the western edge of the CLOSING HUT-DOOR
plateau, extending over a fairly wide belt of
country. Neither Makua nor Makonde show in their dwellings
anything of the size and comeliness of the Yao houses in the plain,
especially at Masasi, Chingulungulu and Zuza’s. Jumbe Chauro, a
Makonde hamlet not far from Newala, on the road to Mahuta, is the
most important settlement of the tribe I have yet seen, and has fairly
spacious huts. But how slovenly is their construction compared with
the palatial residences of the elephant-hunters living in the plain.
The roofs are still more untidy than in the general run of huts during
the dry season, the walls show here and there the scanty beginnings
or the lamentable remains of the mud plastering, and the interior is a
veritable dog-kennel; dirt, dust and disorder everywhere. A few huts
only show any attempt at division into rooms, and this consists
merely of very roughly-made bamboo partitions. In one point alone
have I noticed any indication of progress—in the method of fastening
the door. Houses all over the south are secured in a simple but
ingenious manner. The door consists of a set of stout pieces of wood
or bamboo, tied with bark-string to two cross-pieces, and moving in
two grooves round one of the door-posts, so as to open inwards. If
the owner wishes to leave home, he takes two logs as thick as a man’s
upper arm and about a yard long. One of these is placed obliquely
against the middle of the door from the inside, so as to form an angle
of from 60° to 75° with the ground. He then places the second piece
horizontally across the first, pressing it downward with all his might.
It is kept in place by two strong posts planted in the ground a few
inches inside the door. This fastening is absolutely safe, but of course
cannot be applied to both doors at once, otherwise how could the
owner leave or enter his house? I have not yet succeeded in finding
out how the back door is fastened.

MAKONDE LOCK AND KEY AT JUMBE CHAURO

 This is the general way of closing a house. The Makonde at Jumbe
Chauro, however, have a much more complicated, solid and original
one. Here, too, the door is as already described, except that there is
only one post on the inside, standing by itself about six inches from
one side of the doorway. Opposite this post is a hole in the wall just
large enough to admit a man’s arm. The door is closed inside by a
large wooden bolt passing through a hole in this post and pressing
with its free end against the door. The other end has three holes into
which fit three pegs running in vertical grooves inside the post. The
door is opened with a wooden key about a foot long, somewhat
curved and sloped off at the butt; the other end has three pegs
corresponding to the holes, in the bolt, so that, when it is thrust
through the hole in the wall and inserted into the rectangular
opening in the post, the pegs can be lifted and the bolt drawn out.[50]

MODE OF INSERTING THE KEY

With no small pride first one householder and then a second

showed me on the spot the action of this greatest invention of the
Makonde Highlands. To both with an admiring exclamation of
“Vizuri sana!” (“Very fine!”). I expressed the wish to take back these
marvels with me to Ulaya, to show the Wazungu what clever fellows
the Makonde are. Scarcely five minutes after my return to camp at
Newala, the two men came up sweating under the weight of two
heavy logs which they laid down at my feet, handing over at the same
time the keys of the fallen fortress. Arguing, logically enough, that if
the key was wanted, the lock would be wanted with it, they had taken
their axes and chopped down the posts—as it never occurred to them
to dig them out of the ground and so bring them intact. Thus I have
two badly damaged specimens, and the owners, instead of praise,
come in for a blowing-up.
The Makua huts in the environs of Newala are especially
miserable; their more than slovenly construction reminds one of the
temporary erections of the Makua at Hatia’s, though the people here
have not been concerned in a war. It must therefore be due to
congenital idleness, or else to the absence of a powerful chief. Even
the baraza at Mlipa’s, a short hour’s walk south-east of Newala,
shares in this general neglect. While public buildings in this country
are usually looked after more or less carefully, this is in evident
danger of being blown over by the first strong easterly gale. The only
attractive object in this whole district is the grave of the late chief
Mlipa. I visited it in the morning, while the sun was still trying with
partial success to break through the rolling mists, and the circular
grove of tall euphorbias, which, with a broken pot, is all that marks
the old king’s resting-place, impressed one with a touch of pathos.
Even my very materially-minded carriers seemed to feel something
of the sort, for instead of their usual ribald songs, they chanted
solemnly, as we marched on through the dense green of the Makonde
bush:—
 “We shall arrive with the great master; we stand in a row and have
no fear about getting our food and our money from the Serkali (the
Government). We are not afraid; we are going along with the great
master, the lion; we are going down to the coast and back.”
With regard to the characteristic features of the various tribes here
on the western edge of the plateau, I can arrive at no other
conclusion than the one already come to in the plain, viz., that it is
impossible for anyone but a trained anthropologist to assign any
given individual at once to his proper tribe. In fact, I think that even
an anthropological specialist, after the most careful examination,
might find it a difficult task to decide. The whole congeries of peoples
collected in the region bounded on the west by the great Central
African rift, Tanganyika and Nyasa, and on the east by the Indian
Ocean, are closely related to each other—some of their languages are
only distinguished from one another as dialects of the same speech,
and no doubt all the tribes present the same shape of skull and
structure of skeleton. Thus, surely, there can be no very striking
differences in outward appearance.
 Even did such exist, I should have no time
to concern myself with them, for day after day,
I have to see or hear, as the case may be—in
any case to grasp and record—an
extraordinary number of ethnographic
phenomena. I am almost disposed to think it
fortunate that some departments of inquiry, at
least, are barred by external circumstances.
Chief among these is the subject of iron-
working. We are apt to think of Africa as a
country where iron ore is everywhere, so to
speak, to be picked up by the roadside, and
where it would be quite surprising if the
inhabitants had not learnt to smelt the
material ready to their hand. In fact, the
knowledge of this art ranges all over the
continent, from the Kabyles in the north to the
Kafirs in the south. Here between the Rovuma
and the Lukuledi the conditions are not so
favourable. According to the statements of the
Makonde, neither ironstone nor any other
form of iron ore is known to them. They have
not therefore advanced to the art of smelting
the metal, but have hitherto bought all their
THE ANCESTRESS OF
THE MAKONDE
iron implements from neighbouring tribes.
Even in the plain the inhabitants are not much
better off. Only one man now living is said to
understand the art of smelting iron. This old fundi lives close to
Huwe, that isolated, steep-sided block of granite which rises out of
the green solitude between Masasi and Chingulungulu, and whose
jagged and splintered top meets the traveller’s eye everywhere. While
still at Masasi I wished to see this man at work, but was told that,
frightened by the rising, he had retired across the Rovuma, though
he would soon return. All subsequent inquiries as to whether the
fundi had come back met with the genuine African answer, “Bado”
(“Not yet”).
 BRAZIER

Some consolation was afforded me by a brassfounder, whom I

came across in the bush near Akundonde’s. This man is the favourite
of women, and therefore no doubt of the gods; he welds the glittering
brass rods purchased at the coast into those massive, heavy rings
which, on the wrists and ankles of the local fair ones, continually give
me fresh food for admiration. Like every decent master-craftsman he
had all his tools with him, consisting of a pair of bellows, three
crucibles and a hammer—nothing more, apparently. He was quite
willing to show his skill, and in a twinkling had fixed his bellows on
the ground. They are simply two goat-skins, taken off whole, the four
legs being closed by knots, while the upper opening, intended to
admit the air, is kept stretched by two pieces of wood. At the lower
end of the skin a smaller opening is left into which a wooden tube is
stuck. The fundi has quickly borrowed a heap of wood-embers from
the nearest hut; he then fixes the free ends of the two tubes into an
earthen pipe, and clamps them to the ground by means of a bent
piece of wood. Now he fills one of his small clay crucibles, the dross
on which shows that they have been long in use, with the yellow
material, places it in the midst of the embers, which, at present are
only faintly glimmering, and begins his work. In quick alternation
the smith’s two hands move up and down with the open ends of the
bellows; as he raises his hand he holds the slit wide open, so as to let
the air enter the skin bag unhindered. In pressing it down he closes
the bag, and the air puffs through the bamboo tube and clay pipe into
the fire, which quickly burns up. The smith, however, does not keep
on with this work, but beckons to another man, who relieves him at
the bellows, while he takes some more tools out of a large skin pouch
carried on his back. I look on in wonder as, with a smooth round
stick about the thickness of a finger, he bores a few vertical holes into
the clean sand of the soil. This should not be difficult, yet the man
seems to be taking great pains over it. Then he fastens down to the
ground, with a couple of wooden clamps, a neat little trough made by
splitting a joint of bamboo in half, so that the ends are closed by the
two knots. At last the yellow metal has attained the right consistency,
and the fundi lifts the crucible from the fire by means of two sticks
split at the end to serve as tongs. A short swift turn to the left—a
tilting of the crucible—and the molten brass, hissing and giving forth
clouds of smoke, flows first into the bamboo mould and then into the
holes in the ground.
The technique of this backwoods craftsman may not be very far
advanced, but it cannot be denied that he knows how to obtain an
adequate result by the simplest means. The ladies of highest rank in
this country—that is to say, those who can afford it, wear two kinds
of these massive brass rings, one cylindrical, the other semicircular
in section. The latter are cast in the most ingenious way in the
bamboo mould, the former in the circular hole in the sand. It is quite
a simple matter for the fundi to fit these bars to the limbs of his fair
customers; with a few light strokes of his hammer he bends the
pliable brass round arm or ankle without further inconvenience to
the wearer.
SHAPING THE POT

SMOOTHING WITH MAIZE-COB

CUTTING THE EDGE

 FINISHING THE BOTTOM

LAST SMOOTHING BEFORE

BURNING

FIRING THE BRUSH-PILE

 LIGHTING THE FARTHER SIDE OF
THE PILE

TURNING THE RED-HOT VESSEL

NYASA WOMAN MAKING POTS AT MASASI

Pottery is an art which must always and everywhere excite the
interest of the student, just because it is so intimately connected with
the development of human culture, and because its relics are one of
the principal factors in the reconstruction of our own condition in
prehistoric times. I shall always remember with pleasure the two or
three afternoons at Masasi when Salim Matola’s mother, a slightly-
built, graceful, pleasant-looking woman, explained to me with
touching patience, by means of concrete illustrations, the ceramic art
of her people. The only implements for this primitive process were a
lump of clay in her left hand, and in the right a calabash containing
the following valuables: the fragment of a maize-cob stripped of all
its grains, a smooth, oval pebble, about the size of a pigeon’s egg, a
few chips of gourd-shell, a bamboo splinter about the length of one’s
hand, a small shell, and a bunch of some herb resembling spinach.
 Nothing more. The woman scraped with the
shell a round, shallow hole in the soft, fine
sand of the soil, and, when an active young
girl had filled the calabash with water for her,
she began to knead the clay. As if by magic it
gradually assumed the shape of a rough but
already well-shaped vessel, which only wanted
a little touching up with the instruments
before mentioned. I looked out with the
MAKUA WOMAN closest attention for any indication of the use
MAKING A POT. of the potter’s wheel, in however rudimentary
SHOWS THE a form, but no—hapana (there is none). The
BEGINNINGS OF THE embryo pot stood firmly in its little
POTTER’S WHEEL
depression, and the woman walked round it in
a stooping posture, whether she was removing
small stones or similar foreign bodies with the maize-cob, smoothing
the inner or outer surface with the splinter of bamboo, or later, after
letting it dry for a day, pricking in the ornamentation with a pointed
bit of gourd-shell, or working out the bottom, or cutting the edge
with a sharp bamboo knife, or giving the last touches to the finished
vessel. This occupation of the women is infinitely toilsome, but it is
without doubt an accurate reproduction of the process in use among
our ancestors of the Neolithic and Bronze ages.
There is no doubt that the invention of pottery, an item in human
progress whose importance cannot be over-estimated, is due to
women. Rough, coarse and unfeeling, the men of the horde range
over the countryside. When the united cunning of the hunters has
succeeded in killing the game; not one of them thinks of carrying
home the spoil. A bright fire, kindled by a vigorous wielding of the
drill, is crackling beside them; the animal has been cleaned and cut
up secundum artem, and, after a slight singeing, will soon disappear
under their sharp teeth; no one all this time giving a single thought
to wife or child.
To what shifts, on the other hand, the primitive wife, and still more
the primitive mother, was put! Not even prehistoric stomachs could
endure an unvarying diet of raw food. Something or other suggested
the beneficial effect of hot water on the majority of approved but
indigestible dishes. Perhaps a neighbour had tried holding the hard
roots or tubers over the fire in a calabash filled with water—or maybe
an ostrich-egg-shell, or a hastily improvised vessel of bark. They
became much softer and more palatable than they had previously
been; but, unfortunately, the vessel could not stand the fire and got
charred on the outside. That can be remedied, thought our
ancestress, and plastered a layer of wet clay round a similar vessel.
This is an improvement; the cooking utensil remains uninjured, but
the heat of the fire has shrunk it, so that it is loose in its shell. The
next step is to detach it, so, with a firm grip and a jerk, shell and
kernel are separated, and pottery is invented. Perhaps, however, the
discovery which led to an intelligent use of the burnt-clay shell, was
made in a slightly different way. Ostrich-eggs and calabashes are not
to be found in every part of the world, but everywhere mankind has
arrived at the art of making baskets out of pliant materials, such as
bark, bast, strips of palm-leaf, supple twigs, etc. Our inventor has no
water-tight vessel provided by nature. “Never mind, let us line the
basket with clay.” This answers the purpose, but alas! the basket gets
burnt over the blazing fire, the woman watches the process of
cooking with increasing uneasiness, fearing a leak, but no leak
appears. The food, done to a turn, is eaten with peculiar relish; and
the cooking-vessel is examined, half in curiosity, half in satisfaction
at the result. The plastic clay is now hard as stone, and at the same
time looks exceedingly well, for the neat plaiting of the burnt basket
is traced all over it in a pretty pattern. Thus, simultaneously with
pottery, its ornamentation was invented.
Primitive woman has another claim to respect. It was the man,
roving abroad, who invented the art of producing fire at will, but the
woman, unable to imitate him in this, has been a Vestal from the
earliest times. Nothing gives so much trouble as the keeping alight of
the smouldering brand, and, above all, when all the men are absent
from the camp. Heavy rain-clouds gather, already the first large
drops are falling, the first gusts of the storm rage over the plain. The
little flame, a greater anxiety to the woman than her own children,
flickers unsteadily in the blast. What is to be done? A sudden thought
occurs to her, and in an instant she has constructed a primitive hut
out of strips of bark, to protect the flame against rain and wind.
This, or something very like it, was the way in which the principle
of the house was discovered; and even the most hardened misogynist
cannot fairly refuse a woman the credit of it. The protection of the
hearth-fire from the weather is the germ from which the human
dwelling was evolved. Men had little, if any share, in this forward
step, and that only at a late stage. Even at the present day, the
plastering of the housewall with clay and the manufacture of pottery
are exclusively the women’s business. These are two very significant
survivals. Our European kitchen-garden, too, is originally a woman’s
invention, and the hoe, the primitive instrument of agriculture, is,
characteristically enough, still used in this department. But the
noblest achievement which we owe to the other sex is unquestionably
the art of cookery. Roasting alone—the oldest process—is one for
which men took the hint (a very obvious one) from nature. It must
have been suggested by the scorched carcase of some animal
overtaken by the destructive forest-fires. But boiling—the process of
improving organic substances by the help of water heated to boiling-
point—is a much later discovery. It is so recent that it has not even
yet penetrated to all parts of the world. The Polynesians understand
how to steam food, that is, to cook it, neatly wrapped in leaves, in a
hole in the earth between hot stones, the air being excluded, and
(sometimes) a few drops of water sprinkled on the stones; but they
do not understand boiling.
To come back from this digression, we find that the slender Nyasa
woman has, after once more carefully examining the finished pot,
put it aside in the shade to dry. On the following day she sends me
word by her son, Salim Matola, who is always on hand, that she is
going to do the burning, and, on coming out of my house, I find her
already hard at work. She has spread on the ground a layer of very
dry sticks, about as thick as one’s thumb, has laid the pot (now of a
yellowish-grey colour) on them, and is piling brushwood round it.
My faithful Pesa mbili, the mnyampara, who has been standing by,
most obligingly, with a lighted stick, now hands it to her. Both of
them, blowing steadily, light the pile on the lee side, and, when the
flame begins to catch, on the weather side also. Soon the whole is in a
blaze, but the dry fuel is quickly consumed and the fire dies down, so
that we see the red-hot vessel rising from the ashes. The woman
turns it continually with a long stick, sometimes one way and
sometimes another, so that it may be evenly heated all over. In
twenty minutes she rolls it out of the ash-heap, takes up the bundle
of spinach, which has been lying for two days in a jar of water, and
sprinkles the red-hot clay with it. The places where the drops fall are
marked by black spots on the uniform reddish-brown surface. With a
sigh of relief, and with visible satisfaction, the woman rises to an
erect position; she is standing just in a line between me and the fire,
from which a cloud of smoke is just rising: I press the ball of my
camera, the shutter clicks—the apotheosis is achieved! Like a
priestess, representative of her inventive sex, the graceful woman
stands: at her feet the hearth-fire she has given us beside her the
invention she has devised for us, in the background the home she has
built for us.
At Newala, also, I have had the manufacture of pottery carried on
in my presence. Technically the process is better than that already
described, for here we find the beginnings of the potter’s wheel,
which does not seem to exist in the plains; at least I have seen
nothing of the sort. The artist, a frightfully stupid Makua woman, did
not make a depression in the ground to receive the pot she was about
to shape, but used instead a large potsherd. Otherwise, she went to
work in much the same way as Salim’s mother, except that she saved
herself the trouble of walking round and round her work by squatting
at her ease and letting the pot and potsherd rotate round her; this is
surely the first step towards a machine. But it does not follow that
the pot was improved by the process. It is true that it was beautifully
rounded and presented a very creditable appearance when finished,
but the numerous large and small vessels which I have seen, and, in
part, collected, in the “less advanced” districts, are no less so. We
moderns imagine that instruments of precision are necessary to
produce excellent results. Go to the prehistoric collections of our
museums and look at the pots, urns and bowls of our ancestors in the
dim ages of the past, and you will at once perceive your error.
MAKING LONGITUDINAL CUT IN
BARK

DRAWING THE BARK OFF THE LOG

REMOVING THE OUTER BARK

 BEATING THE BARK

WORKING THE BARK-CLOTH AFTER BEATING, TO MAKE IT

SOFT

MANUFACTURE OF BARK-CLOTH AT NEWALA

To-day, nearly the whole population of German East Africa is
clothed in imported calico. This was not always the case; even now in
some parts of the north dressed skins are still the prevailing wear,
and in the north-western districts—east and north of Lake
Tanganyika—lies a zone where bark-cloth has not yet been
superseded. Probably not many generations have passed since such
bark fabrics and kilts of skins were the only clothing even in the
south. Even to-day, large quantities of this bright-red or drab
material are still to be found; but if we wish to see it, we must look in
the granaries and on the drying stages inside the native huts, where
it serves less ambitious uses as wrappings for those seeds and fruits
which require to be packed with special care. The salt produced at
Masasi, too, is packed for transport to a distance in large sheets of
bark-cloth. Wherever I found it in any degree possible, I studied the
process of making this cloth. The native requisitioned for the
purpose arrived, carrying a log between two and three yards long and
as thick as his thigh, and nothing else except a curiously-shaped
mallet and the usual long, sharp and pointed knife which all men and
boys wear in a belt at their backs without a sheath—horribile dictu!
[51]
Silently he squats down before me, and with two rapid cuts has
drawn a couple of circles round the log some two yards apart, and
slits the bark lengthwise between them with the point of his knife.
With evident care, he then scrapes off the outer rind all round the
log, so that in a quarter of an hour the inner red layer of the bark
shows up brightly-coloured between the two untouched ends. With
some trouble and much caution, he now loosens the bark at one end,
and opens the cylinder. He then stands up, takes hold of the free
edge with both hands, and turning it inside out, slowly but steadily
pulls it off in one piece. Now comes the troublesome work of
scraping all superfluous particles of outer bark from the outside of
the long, narrow piece of material, while the inner side is carefully
scrutinised for defective spots. At last it is ready for beating. Having
signalled to a friend, who immediately places a bowl of water beside
him, the artificer damps his sheet of bark all over, seizes his mallet,
lays one end of the stuff on the smoothest spot of the log, and
hammers away slowly but continuously. “Very simple!” I think to
myself. “Why, I could do that, too!”—but I am forced to change my
opinions a little later on; for the beating is quite an art, if the fabric is
not to be beaten to pieces. To prevent the breaking of the fibres, the
stuff is several times folded across, so as to interpose several
thicknesses between the mallet and the block. At last the required
state is reached, and the fundi seizes the sheet, still folded, by both
ends, and wrings it out, or calls an assistant to take one end while he
holds the other. The cloth produced in this way is not nearly so fine
and uniform in texture as the famous Uganda bark-cloth, but it is
quite soft, and, above all, cheap.
Now, too, I examine the mallet. My craftsman has been using the
simpler but better form of this implement, a conical block of some
hard wood, its base—the striking surface—being scored across and
across with more or less deeply-cut grooves, and the handle stuck
into a hole in the middle. The other and earlier form of mallet is
shaped in the same way, but the head is fastened by an ingenious
network of bark strips into the split bamboo serving as a handle. The
observation so often made, that ancient customs persist longest in
connection with religious ceremonies and in the life of children, here
finds confirmation. As we shall soon see, bark-cloth is still worn
during the unyago,[52] having been prepared with special solemn
ceremonies; and many a mother, if she has no other garment handy,
will still put her little one into a kilt of bark-cloth, which, after all,
looks better, besides being more in keeping with its African
surroundings, than the ridiculous bit of print from Ulaya.
MAKUA WOMEN