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vi | Contents
Philosophy in Classical Greece  VA L UE S

Protagoras  Roman Ideals as Seen Through the Prism of The Aeneid 
Socrates 
Plato  CO M PA R E + CON TR A S T
Aristotle  Stadium Designs: Thumbs-Up or Thumbs-Down? 
Music in Classical Greece  Glossary 

Theater in Classical Greece  T H E B I G PIC T U R E 
The Drama Festivals of Dionysus 
The Athenian Tragic Dramatists 
Aristophanes and Greek Comedy 
The Late Classical Period 

Late Classical Sculpture 

The Hellenistic Period 
Early Civilizations of South Asia,
C ULT U R E A N D SOC I ET Y
Athens in the Age of Pericles  China, and Japan 
C ULT U R E A N D SOC I ET Y South Asia 
The Women Weavers of Ancient Greece  The Indus Valley Civilization 
The Aryans 
C ULT U R E A N D SOC I ET Y
Epic Poetry 
Civic Pride 
The Birth of Two Religions 
C ULT U R E A N D SOC I ET Y Hinduism 
Theater of War  Buddhism 
Glossary  Hindu and Buddhist Art 
The Gupta Empire and Its Aftermath 
T H E B I G P ICT U R E 
Southeast Asia 
Java 

Cambodia 
China 
The Zhou Dynasty 
Rome  Confucianism and Daoism 
The Etruscans (ca.  – )  The Qin Dynasty 
Etruscan Art and Architecture  The Han Dynasty 
The Tang Dynasty 
Republican Rome ( – ) 
The Song Dynasty 
Republican Literature 
Classical Chinese Literature 
Roman Philosophy 
Roman Law  Visual Arts 
Roman Religion  Japan 
Republican Art and Architecture 
Buddhist Japan 
Roman Music 
The Period of Feudal Rule 
Imperial Rome ( – ) 
R E L IG I O N
Imperial Literature 
The Art of Imperial Rome  The Four Noble Truths of Buddhism 
Imperial Architecture  CO M PA R E + CON TR A S T
The End of the Roman Empire  Ganesh, the Hindu Deity: Don’t Leave Home Without Him 
Late Roman Art and Architecture 
Glossary 
R E L IGI O N
Etruscan, Greek, and Roman Counterparts of Gods and Heroes  T H E B I G PIC T U R E 
Contents | vii
The Legacy of Byzantine Culture 
 Russia 
Italy 
Byzantine Art 
The Rise of the Biblical Tradition  The Literary, Philosophical, and Theological Aspects of Byzantine
Culture 
Abraham 
C U LT U R E A N D S O CI ET Y
Judaism and Early Christianity 
Autocracy and Divine Right 
Biblical History 
The Hebrew Bible and Its Message  Glossary 
Dura-Europos 
T H E B I G PIC T U R E  
The Beginnings of Christianity 
The Spread of Christianity 
Early Christian Art 

Frescoes 
Sculpture 

Early Christian Architecture  The Islamic World 
Early Christian Music  “The Lamps Are Different, but the Light Is the
Same” 
R E L IGI O N
Books of the Hebrew and Christian Bibles  Muhammad and the Birth of Islam 
Sunni, Shia, Sufi 
R E L IGI O N
Revelation  The Growth of Islam 
The Umayyad Caliphate 
Glossary 
Architecture 
T H E B I G P IC T U R E  The Golden Age of Islam 
Islamic Literature 

The Qur’an 
The Thousand and One Nights 
Omar Khayyam 
Early Christianity: Ravenna Sufi Writings 
and Byzantium  Islamic Arts 

Calligraphy 
The Transformation of Rome  Mosaics 
The Council of Nicaea  Ceramics 
Literature, Philosophy, and Religion  Fiber Arts 
Ambrose  Islamic Music 
Augustine of Hippo 
Boethius  The Culture of Islam and the West 
The House of Wisdom 
Ravenna  English Words from the Islamic World 
Mosaics 
Sant’Apollinare Nuovo  R E L IG I O N
The Five Pillars of Islam 
Byzantium 
Constantinople  CO M PA R E + CON TR A S T
The Hagia Sophia: Monument and Symbol  Journeys of Faith 
Other Churches in Constantinople 
Glossary 
San Vitale 
Saint Catherine’s Monastery at Mount Sinai, Egypt  T H E B I G PIC T U R E 
viii | Contents
 
The Rise of Medieval Culture  The High Middle Ages 
The Middle Ages  The Gothic Age 

Migrations  The Gothic Style 
Saint-Denis 
Charlemagne  Characteristics of the Gothic Style 
Charlemagne and Islam  The Mysticism of Light 
Charlemagne and Economics  Sculpture 
Tolerance of Jews  The Many Meanings of the Gothic Cathedral 
Learning in the Time of Charlemagne  Music of the School of Notre-Dame 
Carolingian Culture 
Scholasticism 
Monasticism  The Rise of the Universities 
The Rule of Saint Benedict  Literature 
Women and Monastic Life  Troubadours and Trobairitz 
Carmina Burana 
Music 
The Romance of the Rose 
Gregorian Chant 
The Liturgical Trope  Religion, Philosophy, and Writing 
Moses Maimonides 
Literature  Francis of Assisi 
Venerable Bede  Thomas Aquinas 
Beowulf  CULT U R E A N D SOCI ET Y
Hildegard of Bingen  Dialectics 
The Nonliturgical Drama of Roswitha 
CULT U R E A N D SOCI ET Y
The Morality Play: Everyman 
A Student’s Day at the University of Paris 
The Song of Roland 
Visual Arts  The Medieval Parent and Student 
The Utrecht Psalter 
Calligraphy  Chivalry and Courtly Love 
Ivory Carving 
Glossary 
Carolingian Architecture 
The Carolingian Monastery  T H E B I G PIC T U R E 
Ottonian Art 
Romanesque Art 
The Legend of Charlemagne 


C ULT U R E A N D SO C I ET Y
Feudalism  The Fourteenth Century:
C O M PA R E + CON T R A S T A Time of Transition 
Four Paintings of Saint Matthew  The Fourteenth Century 
Glossary  The Black Death 
The Avignon Papacy and the Great Schism 
T H E B I G P ICT U R E  Peasant Revolts and the Hundred Years’ War 
Contents | ix
Literature in the Fourteenth Century  Music 

Dante Alighieri  Music in Medici Florence 
Giovanni Boccaccio 
Francesco Petrarch  CULT U R E A N D SOCI ET Y
Geoffrey Chaucer  A Technological Revolution: T
The Export of Humanist Learning 
Christine de Pizan 
CULT U R E A N D SOCI ET Y
Art in Italy  Intellectual Synthesis 
Italo-Byzantine Style 
Painting in Florence: A Break with the Past  CO M PA R E + CON TR A S T
Painting in Siena  The Davids of Donatello, Verrocchio, Michelangelo,
and Bernini 
Late Medieval Architecture 
Secular Architecture  Glossary 
Cathedral Architecture 
T H E B I G PIC T U R E  
A New Musical Style—Ars Nova 
Guillaume de Machaut 
Francesco Landini 
R E L IGI O N
Hell, Purgatory, and Heaven in Dante’s The Divine Comedy 

CULT U R E A N D SO C IE T Y
Giovanni Boccaccio, Witness to the Black Death 
The High Renaissance and
CO M PA R E + CON T R A S T Mannerism in Italy 
Scenes from the Passion of Christ by Giotto and Duccio  The Sixteenth Century in Italy: Politics, Popes,
Glossary  and Patronage 
T H E B I G P IC T U R E  The Visual Arts 
The New Saint Peter’s 
The High Renaissance in Venice 

Painting in Venice 
Mannerism 
Music 
The Fifteenth Century  Music at the Papal Court 
Toward the Renaissance  Venetian Music 
Late Medieval and Early Renaissance Art in Northern Europe 
Literature 
Florence and the Renaissance 
The Medici Era  CO M PA R E + CON TR A S T
Lorenzo de’ Medici (“The Magnificent”)  Courtesans, East and West 
Girolamo Savonarola 
Glossary 
Renaissance Humanism 
Giovanni Pico della Mirandola  T H E B I G PIC T U R E  
Women and the Renaissance in the th Century 
Humanism in Italy and the North: Two Sides of a Single Coin 
G L OS S A RY 453
Renaissance Art in Italy 
Florence  PHOTO CREDITS 461
Sculpture 
L I T E R A RY CR E D I T S 465
Painting 
Architecture  I N DEX 469
x | Reading and Playlist Selections
Reading and Playlist Selections

MindTap for Culture & Values, Ninth Edition, provides direct links to the unabridged versions of these literary excerpts in the Questia online library.
 Reading . Homer Reading . Galen

The Iliad, Book , lines –  De placitis Hippocratis et Platonis,  
Reading Selections
Reading . Homer Reading . Plato
Reading . The Epic of Gilgamesh The Iliad, Book , lines –  From the Apology 
Gilgamesh 
Reading . Homer Reading . Plato
Reading . The Epic of Gilgamesh The Odyssey, Book I, lines –  Republic, Book , “The Allegory of the
The Harlot  Reading . Homer Cave” 
Reading . The Epic of Gilgamesh The Odyssey, Book , lines –  Reading . Aristotle
A Dream of the Dead  Reading . Homer Nicomachean Ethics, Book , “The Nature
The Odyssey, Book , lines –  of Happiness” 
Reading . The Epic of Gilgamesh
The Tavern-Keeper by the Sea  Reading . Homer Reading . Aristotle
The Odyssey, Book , lines –  Politics, Book , Part  
Reading . The Epic of Gilgamesh
The Story of the Flood  Reading . Homer Reading . Plato
The Odyssey, Book , lines –  Protagoras, a 
Reading . The Law Code of
Hammurabi Reading . Homer Reading . Aeschylus
Selected provisions, including “an eye for The Iliad, Book , lines –  Agamemnon, lines – 
an eye and a tooth for a tooth” 
Reading . Hesiod Reading . Aeschylus
Reading . Akhenaton Theogony, lines –  Agamemnon, lines – 
From “Hymn to the Sun” 
Reading . Hesiod Reading . Aeschylus
Reading . The Leiden Hymns Theogony, lines – and –  The Eumenides, lines – 
From “God is a master craftsman” 
Reading . Sappho Reading . Aeschylus
Reading . Love Song “Like the very gods in my sight is he”  The Eumenides, lines – 
“Love, how I’d love to slip down to the
Reading . Sappho Reading . Sophocles
pond” 
“Age and Light”  Antigone, lines – 
Reading . Love Song
Reading . Parmenides Reading . Sophocles
From “My love is one and only, without From “The Way of Truth” 
peer”  Antigone, lines – and
Reading . Herodotus – 
Reading . Love Song Histories, Book  
“I think I’ll go home and lie very still”  Reading . Sophocles
Oedipus the King
King, lines – 

 Reading . Sophocles
Reading Selections Oedipus the King
King, lines – 
Reading Selections
Reading . Thucydides Reading . Sophocles
Reading . Homer From History of the Peloponnesian War  Oedipus the King
King, lines – 
The Odyssey, Book , lines –, –,
and –  Reading . Thucydides Reading . Aristotle
From History of the Peloponnesian War, From Poetics,  
Reading . Homer chapter , “Congress of the Peloponnesian
The Iliad, Book , lines –  Confederacy at Lacedaemon”  Reading . Euripides
The Suppliant Women, lines – 
Reading . Homer Reading . Thucydides
The Iliad, Book , lines – and History of the Peloponnesian War, Pericles’s Reading . Euripides
–  funeral oration, Book   The Suppliant Women, lines – 
Reading and Playlist Selections | xi
Reading . Euripides Reading . Sulpicia Reading . The Hebrew Bible
The Suppliant Women, lines –  “Love has come at last”  From Job  and  
Reading . Euripides Reading . Horace Reading . The Christian Bible,
The Suppliant Women, lines – “Carpe Diem” (Seize the Day)  New Testament
  Matthew :– 
Reading . Juvenal
Reading . Aristophanes From Satire , lines –  Reading . The Christian Bible,
Lysistrata, lines –, –, –, New Testament
Reading . Ovid
and –  Matthew :– 
“The Tale of Pyramus and Thisbe,”
Reading . Pliny Metamorphoses, Book   Reading . The Christian Bible,
On Lysippus  New Testament 
 Reading . Tacitus
 From Annals  
Reading Selections
Reading Selections Reading . Krishna Dvaipayana Vyasa 
Reading . Julius Caesar The Mahabharata, Book , passage  
Commentaries on the Civil Wars (De bello Reading Selections
Reading . The Bhagavad Gita
civili), Book , passage  ( )  From the First Teaching  Reading . Saint Augustine
Reading . Cicero From the Second Teaching Lord From Confessions, Book ,
On Duties, Book , passages  and   Krishna (speaks)  chapter  
Reading . Catullus Reading . The Rig-Veda Reading . Saint Augustine
Lyrics to his lover Lesbia  “In the beginning”  The City of God, Book , chapter  
Reading . Lucretius Reading . The Rig-Veda Reading . Saint Augustine
On the Nature of Things ( ), From “The Sacrifice of the Primal The City of God, Book , chapter  
from Book V  Man” 
Reading . Saint Augustine
Reading . Seneca Reading . Dreams From The Literal Meaning of Genesis,
On the Tranquility of Mind  The Brihad-Aranyaka Upanishad (th–th chapter  
century ), the Supreme Teaching 
Reading . Epictetus Reading . Boethius
Enchiridion  Reading . Li Bai From Consolation of Philosophy, Book ,
From “Bring the Wine”  chapter  
Reading . Marcus Aurelius
Reading . Li Bai
Meditations 
“Autumn Cove”  
Reading . Pliny the Younger
Letter to Tacitus on the eruption Reading . Li Qingzhao Reading Selections
of Vesuvius  “Like a Dream” (Re
Re meng ling
ling) 
Reading . The Qur’an
Reading . Virgil Reading . Murasaki Shikibu Sura , The Opening, revealed at
From The Tale of Genji, chapter   Mecca 
The Aeneid, Book , lines – 
Reading . The Qur’an
Reading . Virgil  Sura , The Table Spread, revealed at
The Aeneid, Book , lines – 
al-Madı-nah [Medina] 
Reading . Virgil
Reading Selections
Reading . The Thousand and One
The Aeneid, Book , lines –  Reading . The Hebrew Bible
Nights
Genesis :– 
Reading . Virgil From “The Tale of the Porter and the Young
The Aeneid, Book , lines –  Reading . The Hebrew Bible Girls” 
Genesis :– and :– 
Reading . Virgil Reading . The Thousand and One
The Aeneid, Book , lines – and Reading . The Hebrew Bible Nights
–  Exodus :– (the Decalogue)  From “Conclusion” 
xii | Reading and Playlist Selections
Reading . Omar Khayyam  Reading . Petrarch

From The Rubáiyát of Omar Canzoniere, Sonnet XVIII 
Khayyám  Reading Selections
Reading . Chaucer
Reading . Omar Khayyam Reading . Guillem de Peiteus The Canterbury Tales, General Prologue,
“Into this Universe, and Why not “A New Song for New Days,” lines – lines –, in Middle and Modern
knowing”  and –  English 
Reading . Rabi’ah al-Adawiyah Reading . Bernart de Ventadorn Reading . Chaucer
al-Qaysiyya  “When I See the Skylark Moving,” The Canterbury Tales, Prologue of the Wife
lines –  of Bath’s Tale, lines – 
Reading . Jalal ad-Din Muhammad
Reading . Bertran de Born Reading . Christine de Pizan
Rumi
“I Love the Glad Time of Easter,” lines – From The Book of the City of Ladies,
Three Blind Men and the Elephant 
and –  chapters  and  
Reading . Jalal ad-Din Muhammad
Rumi Reading . Guillaume de Lorris and Playlist Selections
“Only Breath”  Jean de Meun Guillaume de Machaut: Messe de Notre
“La Vieille” (The Old Woman), from the Dame, Credo
Romance of the Rose, lines ff and
 ff.  
Reading Selections Reading . Moses Maimonides Reading Selections
Reading . Venerable Bede A letter to Shmuel ibn Tibbon 
Reading . Lorenzo de’ Medici
The Ecclesiastical History of the English Reading . Saint Francis of Assisi “The Song of Bacchus” 
Nation, Book , chapter   “The Canticle of Brother Sun” 
Reading . Giovanni Pico della
Reading . Beowulf
Beowulf, lines –  Reading . Thomas Aquinas Mirandola
Reading . Beowulf
Beowulf, lines –, From Summa Theologica, Part I, question , From Oration on the Dignity of Man,
–  article   introduction 
Reading . Beowulf

Beowulf, lines –, Playlist Selections Reading . Laura Cereta
From Letter to Bibulus Sempronius:
–  Léonin: “Viderunt omnes fines terre”
A Defense of the Liberal Education
Reading . Hildegard of Bingen of Women 
Scivias, Vision One: God Enthroned Shows 
Reading . Laura Cereta
Himself to Hildegard 
Reading Selections From Letter to Lucilia Vernacula:
Reading . Hildegard of Bingen Against Women Who Disparage
Reading . Dante
Causae et Curae, Women’s Physiology, Learned Women 
The Divine Comedy, Inferno, canto ,
On Intercourse  Reading . Laura Cereta
The Vestibule of Hell, lines – 
Reading . Roswitha On the death of her husband 
Reading . Dante
From The Conversion of the Harlot Thaïs, Reading . Niccolò Machiavelli
The Divine Comedy, Inferno, canto ,
scene   From The Prince, chapter , “Concerning
Circle Two, lines – 
the Way in Which Princes Should Keep
Reading . Everyman, lines –
Reading . Dante Faith” 
[GOD SPEAKETH]  The Divine Comedy, Inferno, canto ,
Circle Two, lines –  Reading . Niccolò Machiavelli
Reading . Thee Song of Roland
Roland,
Concerning Cruelty and Clemency, and
lines – and – Reading . Dante Whether It Is Better To Be Loved Than
The Death of Roland  The Divine Comedy, Paradiso, canto , Feared 
The Empyrean, lines – 
Playlist Selections Reading . Desiderius Erasmus
Anonymous: “Victimae paschali Reading . Petrarch From The Praise of Folly (on
Laudes” Canzoniere, Sonnet XIV  theologians) 
Reading and Playlist Selections | xiii
 Reading . Baldassare Castiglione Reading . Veronica Franco

From The Book of the Courtier, Book , From letter , “A Warning to a Mother
Reading Selections “The Perfect Lady”  Considering Turning Her Daughter into
a Courtesan” 
Reading . Leonardo da Vinci Reading . Baldassare Castiglione
Letter of Application to Ludovico Sforza From The Book of the Courtier, Book , Reading . Benvenuto Cellini
(ca. )  “The Perfect Lady,” continued  From The Autobiography, Casting
Perseus 
Reading . Michelangelo  Reading . Veronica Franco
Reading . Vittoria Colonna From Poems in Terza Rima, chapter , Playlist Selections
Sonnet IX  lines – and –  Palestrina: Missa Papae Marcelli, Credo
xiv | Preface to the Ninth Edition
Preface to the Ninth Edition
The ninth edition of Culture & Values continues its mission to THE NEW CONNECTIONS FEATURE draws parallels
inform students of the history of humankind through the lens between works of art and literature, relays contemporary
of the humanities—language and literature, art and architec- responses to ancient events, and offers engaging new perspec-
ture, music, philosophy, and religion. Through the study of the tives on cultural figures and monuments. Examples include:
humanities, we aim not only to know but to understand—to con-
sider what humans across time and lands have thought about; • The use of computerized tomography (CT scanning) by
and how they have felt or acted; how they have sought to come Italian archaeologists excavating in Pompeii to better
to terms with their relationship to the known and the unknown; understand the daily lives and habits of the citizens of
and how culture has influenced them to develop and express their Pompeii prior to the eruption of Mount Vesuvius in  .
ideas, ideals, and their inner selves. Culture & Values encourages • The literary musings of th-century American writer
students to place their own backgrounds and beliefs in context Washington Irving—renowned for The Legend of Sleepy
and to consider how understanding both their own and other Hollow—that were inspired by his stay in the legendary
heritages contributes to becoming a citizen of the world in the Moorish palace, the Alhambra, in Granada, Spain.
st century.
THE NEW RELIGION FEATURE presents essential aspects
and tenets of belief systems past and present, including:
’    • The Four Noble Truths of Buddhism
  • The Five Pillars of Islam
Professors who have taught with earlier editions of the book will
find that the ninth edition is familiar, yet, in many respects, quite ’    
new. Readers of the ninth edition will discover a new chapter
on the Americas, three new types of features, and new works
— 
throughout, including numerous new maps. 
 Beginnings
New Features • New illustrations and new works of art, including
Neanderthal jewelry dating back , years and
The ninth edition has three new features designed to engage stu-
handprint stencils dating from ,  from the
dents and to demonstrate the relevance of the humanities to their El Castillo Cave in Spain
contemporary world:
• Culture and Society feature: “Mesopotamia: Tycoons
THE NEW CULTURE AND SOCIETY FEATURE high- of Trade”
lights relationships between cultural and social developments, • Connections feature: The Rosetta Stone
both ancient and modern. A sampling of topics includes:
 The Rise of Greece
• The “Theater of War,” a project in which contemporary • Excerpts from Robert Fitzgerald’s translation of The Odyssey
screen and stage actors participate in readings of ancient
Greek tragedies to heighten awareness of posttraumatic • Connections feature: The Death of Sarpedon in Homer’s The
stress disorder (PTSD) among veterans of the Iraq and Iliad and Attic vase painting
Afghanistan wars.  Classical Greece and the Hellenistic Period
• “A Technological Revolution: The Export of Humanist
• New illustrations, including dramatic views of the Acropolis
Learning,” discusses how the invention of moveable type
in Athens
and the innovation of papermaking combined to make
possible the widespread dissemination of knowledge in the • Culture and Society feature: “The Women Weavers of
West. Ancient Greece”
Preface to the Ninth Edition | xv
• Culture and Society feature: “Theater of War,” a program in • Connections feature: The Sarah Bernhardt/Theodora
which contemporary actors, including Jake Gyllenhaal and nexus—the th-century actress’s identification with the
Paul Giamatti, do readings of the Greek play Ajax to help Byzantine empress
Iraq and Afghanistan veterans cope with PTSD
 The Islamic World
• Connections feature: The Pergamon Altar through the lens
• Discussion and illustration of the poetic inscriptions and
of contemporary German photographer Thomas Struth
miradors of the Alhambra palace
 Rome
• Discussion and illustration of the intersection of the
• Excerpts from Rolphe Humphries’s translation of Virgil’s Cathedral and the Mosque of Córdoba
The Aeneid
• Connections feature: The shrine of John the Baptist in the
• New illustrations of the Ara Pacis, the Pantheon, the Column Umayyad Great Mosque in Damascus
of Trajan, and more
• Connections feature: American writer Washington Irving’s
• Connections feature: A comparison of Ibsen’s Cataline and Tales of the Alhambra
Cicero’s speeches against his accused conspirator
• Connections feature: The Islamic art of tessellation in
• Connections feature: A comparison of the character of Julius Seville’s Alcázar palace
Caesar in Shakespeare’s tragedy and stoic philosophers in
ancient Rome  The Rise of Medieval Culture
• Connections feature: Anthropologists’ use of CT scanning to • Excerpts from Seamus Heaney’s translation of Beowulf
investigate the daily lives and habits of Pompeiians prior to • New illustrations, including images of Saint Sernin in
the eruption of Mount Vesuvius in  
Toulouse and the Palatine Chapel at Aachen
• Connections feature: A comparison of Mussolini’s “Square
• Connections feature: The role of Irish monks in preserving
Colosseum” and the ancient Roman Colosseum
the works of antiquity during years of European instability
 Early Civilizations of South Asia, China, and Japan
 The High Middle Ages
• New coverage of Southeast Asia (including Java and
• New illustrations of French cathedral architecture, sculpture,
Cambodia) and Japan
and stained glass
• New illustrations, including photos, of the citadel of
• New chapter preview: The monastery at Skellig Michael,
Mohenjo-daro and the Longmen grottoes of Luoyang, China
setting for the final scene of Star Wars: The Force Awakens
• Connections feature: The use of holographic projection
to “bring back to life” Afghanistan’s Bamiyan Buddhas, • Connections feature: Abelard and Héloïse, love and death
destroyed by the Taliban in   The Fourteenth Century: A Time of Transition
 The Rise of the Biblical Tradition • New discussion and illustration of Gloucester Cathedral
• New illustrations, including images of Syria’s Synagogue • Connections feature: Judy Chicago celebrates 14th-century
at Dura-Europos and the Church of the Holy Sepulcher in feminist Christine de Pizan in The Dinner Party
Jerusalem
• Connections feature: Critical responses to Brunelleschi’s
• Connections feature: William Blake’s watercolor drawings duomo for Santa Maria del Fiore (the Cathedral of Florence)
and engraved illustrations for the Book of Job
 The Fifteenth Century
• Connections feature: The looting of Dura-Europos and the
bombing of Palmyra by the Islamic State • Culture and Society feature: “A Technological Revolution:
The Export of Humanist Learning”
 Early Christianity: Ravenna and Byzantium
• Connections feature: Cosimo de’ Medici and Donatello
• New illustrations
• Connections feature: Botticelli’s Venus and the Aphrodite
• Discussion of the Blues versus the Greens and the Nika riots
of Knidos
in Byzantium
 The High Renaissance and Mannerism in Italy
• Connections feature: A comparison between St. Augustine’s
views as expressed in The Literal Meaning of Genesis and the • New illustrations, including new views of the Sistine Chapel,
Church’s sentencing of Galileo for heresy the Tempietto, and the Villa Rotunda
xvi | Preface to the Ninth Edition
• Connections feature: Papermaking and Leonardo’s 

experimental sketches and drawings
We first acknowledge the reviewers—our colleagues who, as
• Connections feature: The mutilation and restoration of
instructors in the humanities survey, collectively have shaped
Michelangelo’s Pietà
student encounters with art, music, religion, philosophy, and lit-
erature over generations. The extent to which Culture & Values,
Ninth Edition, meets their pedagogical needs and inspires their
Familiar Features in the students—and yours—is a direct result of their willingness to
share—and our commitment to learn from—their expertise and
Ninth Edition experiences. They have had the enduring patience to read the
text meticulously to inform us of any shortcomings, and they
A DYNAMIC, ELEGANT, AND ACCESSIBLE DESIGN have inspired us with their unique pedagogical visions. Sincere
that features brilliant, accurate color reproductions of works of gratitude and thanks to the reviewers for the ninth edition:
art along with large-format reproductions of original pages of lit- Yubraj Aryal, Purdue University; Terri Birch, Harper College;
erary works. Students will be able to fully appreciate the visual Steven Cartwright, Western Michigan University; Erin Devin,
impact of these works and may be inspired to seek out art in Northern Virginia Community College; Taurie Gittings, Miami
museums and to visit historic sites. Dade College; Charles Hill, Gadsden State Community College;
Sean Hill, Irvine Valley College; Garry Ross, Texas A&M Univer-
CHAPTER PREVIEWS draw students into the material of sity—Central Texas; Arnold Schmidt, California State University,
each chapter by connecting intriguing works of art and other Stanislaus; Teresa Tande, Lake Region State College; and Scott
images with the ideas and ideals that permeate the eras under Temple, Cleveland Community College.
The authors acknowledge that an edition with revisions
discussion, encouraging students to face each new period with
of this magnitude could not be undertaken, much less accom-
curiosity and anticipation. At the same time, the previews rein-
plished, without the vision, skill, and persistent dedication of the
force connections to the knowledge students have accumulated
superb team of publishing professionals at Cengage Learning.
from previous chapters. First and foremost is Sharon Adams Poore, our Product Man-
ager, who, as always, guides a project with steady and collegial
COMPARE + CONTRAST features present two or more hands, seamlessly meshing author and publisher, needs and
works of art or literature side by side and encourage students desires, idea and reality. She is our touchstone, our champion,
to focus on stylistic, technical, and cultural similarities and dif
dif- our trusted friend; Rachel Harbour, our Content Developer,
ferences. The features promote critical thinking by encourag- worked intensely day by day, bringing her grasp of cultural mat-
ing students to consider the larger context in which works were ters and her global insights to the evaluation and enhancement
created, honing their interpretive skills and challenging them of nearly every word and phrase in the manuscript—all for the
to probe for meaning beyond first impressions. Compare + better; Danielle Ewanouski, Product Assistant; Lianne Ames,
Contrast features parallel the time-honored pedagogy of analyz- our veteran Senior Content Project Manager, the enviable mas-
ing works of art, texts, and ideas by describing their similarities ter of all she surveys, who guarantees that all of the pieces fit
and differences. and that everything keeps moving along consistently and coher-
ently, and who always finds a way to marry pedagogy, aesthet-
TIMELINES in each chapter give students a broad framework ics, and quality of production in spite of crushing deadlines;
for the periods under discussion by highlighting seminal dates Cate Barr, our Senior Art Director, whose splendid taste, acu-
men, and flexibility resulted in the exceptional print or digital
and events.
text you find before you—without Cate as our design “rudder,”
we would never bring the ship of our dreams to port; Christina
ENDOFCHAPTER GLOSSARIES provide students with
Ciaramella, Intellectual Property Analyst; Kathryn Kucharek,
an efficient way to access and review key terms and their meanings.
Intellectual Property Project Manager; and, last but not least,
Jillian Borden, our Senior Marketing Manager—without Jillian’s
THE BIG PICTURE feature at the end of each chapter strategic and boundlessly creative mind, her enthusiasm and
summarizes the cultural events and achievements that shape energy, and belief in the authors and products in her keeping,
the character of each period and place. Organized into catego- our efforts to support the teaching of humanities might never
ries (Language and Literature; Art, Architecture, and Music; come to fruition.
Philosophy and Religion), the Big Picture reinforces for stu- We can only list the others involved in the production of this
dents the simultaneity of developments in history and the edition, although they should know that we are grateful for their
humanities. part in making Culture & Values a book we are proud to present:
Preface to the Ninth Edition | xvii
Chrissy Kurpeski, interior and cover designer; Angela Urquhart, Connect with your Learning Consultant for more details via
editorial project manager at Thistle Hill Publishing; and Corey www.cengage.com/repfinder.
Smith and Kristine Janssens, photo and literary permissions
researchers at Lumina Datamatics. FULL READINGS IN QUESTIA This edition’s MindTap
Lois Fichner-Rathus would also like to thank Spencer includes free access to Questia, an online research library with
Rathus, her husband, silent partner, and true-to-life “Renaissance tens of thousands of digital books and millions of academic
man” for the many roles he played in the concept and execution journal articles. Links to the full versions of many of the literary
of this edition. works excerpted in the ninth edition appear within the MindTap
version of the text. Look for the Questia icon next to individual
readings on pages x–xiii of the print book to see which readings
   are available and linked within MindTap.
Lawrence Cunningham is the John A. O’Brien Professor of

Theology at the University of Notre Dame. He holds degrees in For Students
philosophy, theology, literature, and humanities. John Reich, of
Syracuse University in Florence, Italy, is a trained classicist, musi- MINDTAP FOR STUDENTS MindTap for Culture & Values
cian, and field archaeologist. Both Cunningham and Reich have helps you engage with your course content and achieve greater
lived and lectured for extended periods in Europe. comprehension. Highly personalized and fully online, the Mind-
Lois Fichner-Rathus is Professor of Art and Art History Tap learning platform presents authoritative Cengage Learning
at The College of New Jersey. She holds degrees from the Wil- content, assignments, and services, offering you a tailored pre-
liams College Graduate Program in the History of Art and in the sentation of course curriculum created by your instructor.
MindTap guides you through the course curriculum via an
History, Theory, and Criticism of Art from the Massachusetts
innovative Learning Path Navigator where you will complete
Institute of Technology. In addition to being co-author of Cul-
reading assignments, annotate your readings, complete home-
ture & Values, she is the author of the Cengage Learning text-
work, and engage with quizzes and assignments. This edition’s
books Understanding Art and Foundations of Art and Design. She
MindTap features a two-pane e-reader, designed to make your
teaches study-abroad programs in Paris, Rome, Spain, and Cuba
online reading experience easier. Images discussed in the text
and resides in New York.
appear in the left pane, while the accompanying discussion scrolls
on the right. Highly accessible and interactive, this new e-reader
 pairs videos, Google Map links, and -degree panoramas with
the matching figure in the text.
For Faculty WRITING AND RESEARCH TOOLS IN QUESTIA

The MindTap for this edition of the text includes free access to
MINDTAP® FOR INSTRUCTORS Leverage the tools Questia, a digital research library replete with tips and instruc-
in MindTap for Culture & Values, Ninth Edition, to enhance tion on how to complete research- and writing-based activities
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videos, web links, projects, and more to your course Learn- on the steps of completing a research paper, ranging from topic
ing Path. Set project due dates, specify whether assignments selection to research tips, proper citation formats, and advice on
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Culture
& Values
Beginnings 

The Valley of the Kings, Luxor, Egypt; January , : Nearly ◀ 1.1 King Tutankhamen’s
 years after his death, Tutankhamen’s leathery mummy was delicately removed from its face reconstructed. This
tomb and guided into a portable CT scanner. It was not the first time—or the last—that modern silicone bust is believed to be an
accurate forensic reconstruction
technology would be tapped to feed the curiosity of scientists, archaeologists, and museum
of the face of the Egyptian
officials about the mysteries surrounding the reign and death of the legendary boy-king Tut who pharaoh, also called King Tut,
was crowned at the age of eight and died only  years later. Earlier X-rays revealed a hole at who died some 3300 years ago
the base of Tut’s cranium, leading to the suspicion that he was murdered. This time around, the at the age of about 18 or 19.
focus—and the conclusions—changed. Scientists found a puncture in Tut’s skin over a severe break It is based on CT scans of the
in his left thigh. As it is known that this accident took place just days before his death, some experts mummy.
on the scanning team conjectured that this break, and the puncture caused by it, may have led to
a serious infection and Tut’s consequent death. (Otherwise, the young pharaoh was the picture of
health—no signs of malnutrition or disease, with strong bones and teeth, and probably five and a
half feet tall.)
Scientists, including experts in anatomy, pathology, and radiology, spent two months analyzing
more than  high-resolution three-dimensional images taken during the CT scan. Then artists
and scholars took a turn. Three independent teams, one each from Egypt, France, and the United
States, came up with their own versions of what Tut might have looked like in life: a bit of an
elongated skull (normal, they say), full lips, a receding chin, and a pronounced overbite that seems
to have run in the family. It was the first time—but certainly not the last—that CT scans would be
used to reconstruct the faces of the Egyptian celebrity dead (Fig. 1.1).
We stare at Tut’s image, and his gaze transfixes us. We set aside the bubble-bursting fact
that it is a computer-generated rendering, not unlike any we might see in video games, and allow
ourselves to put a face to the name. The unknown becomes tangible; the myth, a reality. What
does this fixation reveal about us, about our needs, about human nature? Perhaps that we have
a desire to connect with the humanness of our ancestors, to know them as we know anyone else.
We study history to discover how events have sculpted the course of human existence and to fill in
our chronological blanks. But it is in the study of what people thought about themselves and cared
enough about leaving behind—philosophy and religion, literature, the arts and architecture—that
we find our connection to humanity.
4 | C H A P T E R 1 Beginnings
threatens their survival. We may not envision them as intelli-

gent and reflective, as having needs beyond food, shelter, and
the survival of the species. But they did have beliefs and ritu-
als; they did make art and music. They were self-aware. They
wanted to preserve and communicate something of who they
were, what they had done, and how they mattered, even if they
had, as yet, no ability to write.
What we know about the origins of the human family is
constantly changing. As this book was being revised for its
ninth edition, for example, researchers announced the discov-
ery of a new hominid species—Homo naledi—whose bones
were found deep in a South African cave by that name. The
discovery seems to suggest that the bodies were purposefully
placed in the remote chamber and are an indication of some
sort of ritualized burial practice.
Prehistoric art and culture—created before recorded
▲ 1.2 Mammoth Bone Hut, Teeth Tusks, and Tar Pits, ca. history—are divided into three phases that correspond to the
15,000 BCE. Exhibit, The Field Museum of Natural History, Chicago, periods of the Stone Age: Paleolithic (ca. ,,–ca. ,
Illinois. This house was built of hundreds of mammoth bones by hunters ; the Old Stone Age), Mesolithic (ca. ,–ca.  ;
on windswept, treeless plains in Ukraine. Working as a team, hut builders the Middle Stone Age), and Neolithic (ca. –ca.  ;
needed only a few days to haul together hundreds of massive bones and the New Stone Age). Archaeological finds from the Stone Age
stack them into a snug abode. include cave paintings; relief carvings; figurines of stone, ivory,
and bone; jewelry; and musical instruments. The first works of
art feature “stenciled handprints,” geometric symbols, animals,
  and abstracted human figures. The earliest humans found
shelter in nature’s protective cocoons—the mouth of a yawn-
Archaeologists have unearthed bits and pieces of culture that ing cave, the underside of a rocky ledge, the dense canopy of a
predate the age of Tutankhamen by thousands, if not tens wide-spreading tree. Beyond these ready-made opportunities,
of thousands, of years. Scientists have determined that our they sought ways to create shelter. But before humans devised
species—Homo sapiens—walked the Earth at least  millen- ways of transporting materials over vast distances, they had to
nia before the famous pharaoh was born. And incredible as it rely on local possibilities. Fifteen thousand years ago, humans
may seem, a thousand centuries before Tut adorned his eyes dragged the skeletal remains of woolly mammoths to a protec-
with black pigment, someone in a prehistoric workshop was tive spot and piled them into dome-like structures complete
mixing paint. with a grand entrance framed by colossal tusks. The author
The words Stone Age can conjure an image of our human Howard Bloom quipped, “First came the mammoth, then came
ancestors dressed in skins, huddling before a fire in a cave, architecture” (Fig. 1.2). In all, very few Stone Age structures
while the world around them—the elements and the animals— have survived.
Before History
2.5 Million BCE 10,000 BCE 8000 BCE 1600 BCE
P P (O S A) N P (L S A)
First ritual burying of the dead Humans settle communities

Neanderthals make jewelry Agriculture begins; farmers make and
Homo sapiens (and perhaps Neanderthals) create use pottery
paintings on cave walls Humans create large-scale sculptures and
Humans carve small figurines architecture
Hunting provides the main food source Humans continue to carve small figurines
Implements and weapons are made of stone Tools and weaponry are made of bronze
Before History | 5
Paleolithic Developments
Archaeological evidence points to the existence of
Neanderthals (our cousins, but not our direct ances-
tors) going back , to , years; paleon-
tologists who discovered the first fossilized remains
of the species in Germany’s Neanderthal Valley coined
the term Neanderthal. These “cousins” of ours popu-
lated parts of Europe, Asia, and Africa—the continent to
which we can trace our own, true genetic ancestry—that
of Homo sapiens—back about , years. We, too, spread
northward into what is now Europe some , to ,
years ago and coexisted with Neanderthals for, perhaps, ,
to , years. By sometime around , , however, the
Neanderthal species was extinct. How and why this happened ▲ 1.4 Abalone shell, ochre filled, ca. 100,000 BCE, Blombos Cave,
is not definitively known, although Homo sapiens may have Still Bay, South Africa. Residue of liquefied ochre-rich mixture ca.
brought it about. That does not mean, however, that Nean- ¼" (5 mm) deep. It is believed that humans mixed the first known paint
derthal DNA ceased to exist; intermingling and interbreeding in this abalone shell.
between Neanderthals and Homo sapiens has ensured that a
least a bit of their genetic legacy survives in us.
You may have heard the word Neanderthal slung as an
insult toward someone seen as brutish, uncultured, intellectually backward, or basic-skill-deprived, and the genesis of our claim
to superiority certainly has its roots in the perception that
Neanderthals were a primitive group superseded by our own,
“superior” ancestors. It is a narrow picture at the very least.
Recent discoveries of rock art in a Gibraltar cave have contrib-
uted to debunking previously held notions that Neanderthals
had neither the brainpower nor the technical means for artistic
expression. Excavations in what is modern-day Croatia have
yielded, among other things, necklaces and bracelets fashioned
from eagle talons (Fig. 1.3), indicating that Neanderthals were
interested in body adornment, whether as objects of ritual or
luxury.
First and foremost, though, the Paleolithic period is
marked by the making of tools. Homo sapiens used blades of
flint rock to create hammerstones, chisels, axes, and weapons
that were useful in cutting and gathering edible plants and also
in hunting game. Flint was also the material that led to the real
technological and, hence, developmental game changer for
Stone Age humans: the discovery of fire. Learning to maintain
it and harnessing its potential became the wellspring of mate-
rial culture.
The importance of such tools—such technology—to human
survival is clear. But a discovery in a South African cave has given
us insight into Stone Age “chemistry”: , years ago, Homo
sapiens created paints for their cave murals and, perhaps, body
decoration from earth pigments that they pounded and ground
and liquefied to a consistency that could be scooped out of a large
abalone shell with a spatula made of bone (Fig. 1.4).
It is also possible that Neanderthals created some of the
earliest cave paintings we find in present-day Spain. The ones in
▲ 1.3 A Neanderthal Necklace or Bracelet Made of Eagle Talons, . C. S. Henshilwood et al. A ,-year-old ochre-processing workshop
ca. 130,000 BCE. at Blombos Cave, South Africa. Science , no.  (): –.
Many of the great cave paintings of the Old Stone Age were
discovered by accident in northern Spain and southwestern
France. At Lascaux, four teenagers found a hole in the ground
and went exploring and discovered vibrant paintings of bison,
horses, and cattle that are estimated to be more than ,
years old. At first, because of their realism and fresh appear-
ance, the paintings were thought to be forgeries, but geological
methods proved their authenticity.
One of the most splendid examples of Old Stone Age paint-
ing, the so-called Hall of the Bulls (Fig. 1.6), was found in a cave
at Lascaux in southern France. Here, lively animals—bulls, rein-
deer, horses—were drawn on the walls, some superimposed
upon one another, stampeding in all directions. The artists
captured the simple contours of the beasts with bold, confident
black lines and then filled in details with shades of ground ochre
and red pigments. A variety of materials and techniques were
used to create an element of naturalism. Chunks of raw pigment
were dragged along the rocky wall surface, and color was applied
with fingers and sticks. Some areas of the murals reveal a “spray-
painting” technique in which dried, ground pigments were
blown through a hollowed-out bone or reed. Although the tools
were simple, the results were sophisticated. Foreshortening (a
▲ 1.5 Hand Stencils at the El Castillo Cave in Spain, ca. perspective technique) and modeling (using light and gradations
35,000 BCE. Archaeologists have wondered whether the earliest of shade to create an illusion of roundness), although rough and
European cave paintings were made by Neanderthals. basic, are combined to give the animals a convincing likeness.
Why did early humans create these paintings? We cannot
know for certain, though it is unlikely that they were merely
question include handprints, reddish disks, club-like symbols, decorative. The paintings were found in the deepest, almost
and other geometric designs (Fig. 1.5). Depictions of animals unreachable, recesses of the caves, far from the areas that were
came later and were more likely to have been created by our inhabited. New figures were painted over earlier ones with
direct ancestors. no regard for a unified composition; researchers believe that
◀ 1.6 Hall of the

Bulls, ca. 16,000–
14,000 BCE. Cave
paintings like these were
probably associated with
prehistoric rituals that
may have included music.
Some researchers believe
that the caves may have
been chosen for their
acoustical properties and
that the paintings had
some sort of magical
significance connected
to game hunts during the
hunter-gatherer phase of
Paleolithic culture.
Before History | 7
successive artists added to the drawings, of the earth itself—abundance in the food supply? In any case,
respecting the sacredness of the figures early humans may have created their images, and perhaps
that were already there. Some have conjec- their religion, as a way of coping with—and controlling—that
tured that the paintings covering the walls which was unknown to them.
and ceilings embellished a kind of inner
sanctuary where religious rituals concern-
ing the capture of prey were performed. In Neolithic Developments
capturing these animals in art, did Stone
Age people believe that they would guaran- During the New Stone Age, life became more stable and pre-
tee success in capturing them in life? dictable. People domesticated plants and animals, and food
Archaeological evidence also suggests production took the place of food gathering. Improved farm-
a relationship between music and art in the ing techniques made it possible for a community to accumu-
Paleolithic period. The remains of several late stores of grain and thereby become less dependent for its
ancient flutes with finger holes, carved from survival on a good harvest each year. In some areas, toward the
bone and ivory at least , years ago, were end of the Neolithic period, crops such as maize, squash, and
found in caves near wall paintings (Fig. 1.7). beans were cultivated. Pottery was invented around  ,
Were these Paleolithic concert halls? Because and not long afterward, metal began to replace stone as the
the art appears in the deeper recesses of the principal material for tools and weapons. The first metal used
caves, one scientist has conjectured that the was copper, but it was soon discovered that an alloy of copper
spots were chosen for their acoustical reso- and tin would produce a far stronger metal: bronze. The use
nance and afterward painted with backdrops of bronze became widespread, giving its name to the Bronze
for ritual ceremonies. The natural acoustics Age, which lasted from around   to the introduction of
of a carved-out cave would have amplified iron around  . In some places, writing appeared. People
musical rhythms and voices. We can picture began to move into towns and cities, and significant architec-
a mysterious-looking interior, illuminated by tural monuments were erected.
torches, with early humans singing and danc- Jericho was built around an oasis on a plateau in the Jordan
ing before the images and chanting to the Valley of the Middle East. As Jericho prospered, the inhabitants
music of flutes and drums, the sounds echoing saw the need to protect themselves—
through the spaces. and their water—from roaming
Prehistoric artists also created small figu- nomads, so they built the first
rines, called Venuses by the first archaeologists known stone defenses. The
who found them. The most famous of these walls surrounding the city
is the so-called Venus of Willendorf (Fig. 1.8), were  feet thick, and remains
named after the site in Austria where it was have been found of at least one
unearthed. The tiny stone sculpture is just circular tower,  feet high
over four inches high and bears characteris- and  feet in diameter,
tics similar to those of other female figures constructed (without
that may represent earth mothers or fertility mortar) of precisely
goddesses: the parts of the body associated laid stones (Fig. 1.9).
with fertility and childbirth are exaggerated in The tower had an inte-
relation to the arms, legs, and head. Does this rior staircase leading
suggest a concern for survival of the species? to the top from which
Or was this figure of a fertile woman created guards could have
and carried around as a talisman for fertility kept watch for invaders
and used the high
ground to defend against
◀ 1.7 Bone flute, ca. 35,000 BCE, Isturitz
(Pyrénées), France. Vulture wing bone, hollow,
them. Jericho was aban-
aban
8 3 ⁄8" (21.2 cm) long. Musée d’Archeologie doned ca.  , but
Nationale, Saint-Germain-en-Laye, France. another level of excavation
revealed that it was occupied
▶ 1.8 Venus of Willendorf,
lendorf, c a. 28,000–25,000
lendorf
BCE, Willendorf, Austria. Limestone, 4 ¼" (10.8
by a second wave of settlers.
cm) high. Naturhistorisches Museum, Vienna,
Austria. This figurine is one of numberless
representations of earth-mother goddesses from the . N. J. Conard, M. M. Malina, & S. C. Münzel. New flutes document the
Paleolithic period. Parts of the body associated with earliest musical tradition in southwestern Germany. Nature  ():
fertility and childbearing have been emphasized. –.
◀ 1.9 Aerial view

of Neolithic Jericho,
ca. 8000–7000
BCE. The defensive
walls of the Neolithic

city of Jericho were
constructed of stone
without mortar.
Human skulls with facial features restored in plaster were found and astronomers posited some time ago that the monument
buried beneath the floors of Jericho’s houses. Painted details that served as a solar calendar and observatory that charted the
individualize the skulls suggest that they served as rudimentary movements of the sun and moon, as well as eclipses. Theories,
portraits, perhaps of ancestors. for the most part, aim to explain the scale and configuration
Arguably the most famous monument that we know of of the stones from the perspective on the ground. But in the
dating from the Neolithic period is Stonehenge (Fig. 1.10), fall of , Julian Spalding—an art critic and former museum
located on Salisbury Plain in southern England. It consists of director—floated another idea: perhaps what we are looking at
two concentric rings of colossal stones surrounding others now is a foundation of stone “stilts” that supported a massive
placed in a U configuration. Some of these megaliths (from circular wooden platform for ceremonies and participants. In
the Greek, meaning “large stones”) weigh several tons and an interview in the British newspaper, The Guardian, Spald-
are evidence of Neolithic engineering capabilities. The pur- ing said, “All the interpretations to date could be mistaken.
pose of Stonehenge remains an ongoing subject of speculation We’ve been looking at Stonehenge the wrong way: from the
ranging from the outrageous to the plausible. Archaeologists earth, which is very much a th-century viewpoint. We
▼ 1.10 Stonehenge, ca. 2550–1600 BCE, Salisbury Plain, Wiltshire, England. Approximately 24' high × 97'
across (732 × 2957 cm). The function of Stonehenge remains a mystery, although it is believed to have been some
sort of astronomical observatory and solar calendar.
Mesopotamia | 9
haven’t been thinking about what they were thinking about.  • a shared system of religious belief, whose o cials or
Whether his theory stands the test of time is yet to be deter- priests often play a signi cant role in community a airs
mined, but Spalding’s point regarding the role that our lim-
ited worldview plays in sti ing new perspectives and inquiry Civilization is no guarantee of what most people would
is well taken. consider civilized behavior. As the th century demonstrated,
The Neolithic period in Europe overlapped with the begin- some of the most civilized societies in history can be respon-
ning of civilization in the Middle East, ca. . Civilization sible for incalculable human su ering.
is so broad a term that it is not easy to de ne simply. Societies The wellsprings of our own civilization reach back to
that qualify for
f the label “civilized generally possess most, if not developments in ancient cultures across the globe, including
all, of the following characteristics: the great river cultures established in the Fertile Crescent of
Mesopotamia’s Tigris and Euphrates Rivers and along the Fertile
• some form of urban life involving the construction of Ribbon of the Nile River in Egypt. Water
W provided sustenance
permanent settlements cities, in short and, as for
f the ancient cultures of the Aegean, opportunities for
f
• a system of government that regulates political relations trade and interaction with other parts of the known world.
• the development of distinct social classes, distinguished
f
from one another by the two related factors of wealth and
occupation 
• tools and specialized skills for the production of goods,
leading to the rise of manufacturing and trade Civilization began in what is today the country of Iraq, on land
• some form of written communication, making it possible made fertile
f by the Tigris and Euphrates Rivers that oin and
to share and preserve information empty into the Persian Gulf. Called the Fertile Crescent, that
area of land is essentially at and, thus, ultimately indefensible.
indef
The story of ancient civilization in this region Mesopotamia
. D. Alberge. (, March ). Circular Thinking: Stonehenge’s Origin Is
is the story of a succession of ruling peoples, each with their
Subject of New Theory. The Guardian. own language, religion, customs, and art.
Mesopotamia
3500 2332 2150 1600 612 559 330 636
BCE BCE BCE BCE BCE BCE BCE CE
S A N- H N- A G

S  B R
 A 
B S
First cities Sargon unifies Akkadian Hittites sack Neo-Babylonian Reign of Cyrus Alexander
emerge, the Mesopotamia empire Babylon but kings control the the Great and integrates
largest at Akkadian collapses then leave former Assyrian expansion of Mesopotamia
Uruk is spoken Mesopotamia is Mesopotamia Empire Persian Empire and Persia
Cuneiform throughout the reunited by the Assyrians Nebuchadnezzar Egypt falls to into the
writing is region kings of Ur control major II rebuilds Achaemenians Graeco-
developed trade routes Babylon Roman
Earliest Sumerian Darius I and
Empire
First preserved becomes the Ruthless kings Hanging Xerxes build vast
ziggurats hollow-cast chief language build fortified Gardens become palace complex Sassanians
and bronze statues and lavishly one of the Seven at Persepolis challenge
Ziggurat at Ur
shrines are decorated Wonders of the Roman rule
is built Achaemenian
constructed palaces Ancient World in Asia
Hammurabi line ends with
First palaces Assyrian Cyrus of Persia defeat by New Persian
gathers 
indicate Empire falls captures Alexander the Empire is
laws into a
royal Babylon Great established
judicial code
authority and founds Sassanians
Reign of Achaemenian are driven
Gilgamesh dynasty out of
Mesopotamia
by Arabs after
 years
COMPARE + CONTRAST
Mystery Ladies of the Ancient World
A ustria, Bulgaria, Syria, Egypt, Ecuador, India, China,

Siberia, Sudan—what do these places have in common?
Their prehistoric sites have all yielded versions of what seem to
be earth mothers or fertility goddesses, suggesting that in very
early cultures, a feminine deity may have occupied the top spot
in the pantheon of gods.
As much ties them together as distinguishes them. Their
heads and faces are relatively small and far less detailed than
other parts of the body, and in almost every example, the limbs
▲ 1.12 Female figurine, 7000–6000 BCE, Syria. Hardstone,

2 ½" (6.4 cm) high. Private collection.
are either shortened and stumpy, spindly, or wholly absent

(Fig. 1.11). The conclusion that these figurines may be
associated with fertility—or, if not, that they most certainly
indicate a fascination with the life-giving mysteries of the
female body—is drawn from the fact that attributes of the
female body associated with fertility and childbearing are
emphasized or exaggerated
Beyond their basic similarities, the statuettes differ
significantly from one another in terms of style and also,
perhaps, function. Most of them are tiny, suggesting that they
may have been portable talismans. Some, like the Cycladic
idols (see Fig. 1.42), the ancient Nubian figure from present-
day Sudan (Fig. 1.12), and the so-called Bird Lady from
predynastic Egypt (Fig. 1.13) are highly simplified or abstract
and have a certain appeal to the modern eye. Others, like the
Lady of Pazardzik from Bulgaria, exhibit fine attention to
decorative detail (Fig. 1.14).
▲ 1.11 Female figurine, 4300–4000 BCE, Turkey. Clay and Archaeologists and art historians have debated the
pigment, 4 1⁄8" high × 1 7⁄8" wide × 1 5⁄8" deep (10.4 × 4.7 × 4.2 cm). meaning of the figures, but no real clue to whom or what
Brooklyn Museum, New York. they represent has survived. Perhaps they served some
Mesopotamia | 11
ritual purpose or perhaps they were simply dolls. But since

they outnumber the men significantly (there are many more
sculptures of female figures than male figures in prehistoric art),
one thing is clear: the female body represented power.
▲ 1.14 Lady of Pazardzik, ca. 4500 BCE, Bulgaria. Ceramic

(burnt clay), 7 ½" (19 cm) high. Naturhistorisches Museum, Wien,
Austria. This enthroned goddess figure is embellished with incised lines
in the pattern of a double spiral, an ancient symbol of regeneration.
▲ 1.13 Female figure, ca. 3500–3400 BCE, Egypt. Painted

terra-cotta, 11 ½" high × 5 ½" wide × 2 ¼" deep (29.2 × 14 ×
5.7 cm). Brooklyn Museum, New York.
RELIGION
The Gods and Goddesses of Mesopotamia
An (Anu) = Antu
heaven god
Enki = (Damkina) Gibil Shilpae Sahara Enlil = Ninlil

(Ea, Nudimmud) (Gerra) (Ninmah, Nintu, (Ellil)
water god Fire god Mammi, Beletili) air god
goddess of earth
rt
rth
Manduk = Sarparit Nanshe Ninurta = Bau Nanna = Ningal Ishkur = Shala

goddess of (Ningirsu, Nimrod) (Sin, Y
Yerah) (Adad, Teshub)
mor ty
morali war god moon god storm god
Nergal = Ereshkigal Inanna = Dumuzi Utu = Aya

(Irrigal, Erra) goddess of (Ishtar, (Tammuz
(T ) (Shamash)
god of underworld underworld Ashtoreth) sun god
goddess of love
0 150 300 miles

The history of Mesopotamia can be divided into two Names and boundaries of
Caspian N
0 150 300 kilometers present-day nations appear
major periods: the Sumerian (ca. – ) and the in brown Sea
TU R KEY
Semitic (ca. – , when Nineveh fell). The Sumerian
and Semitic peoples differed in their racial origins and lan-
guages; the term Semitic is derived from the name of Shem, Dur Sharrukin
Nineveh Kalhu
one of the sons of Noah, and as a name for a group of people, it
ASSYRIA
is generally used to refer to those speaking a Semitic language. SYR IA Assur Jarmo Hamadan
Tig
In the ancient world, these included the Akkadians, Babylo- MEDIA

ris R
Mari
nians, Assyrians, and Phoenicians. The most commonly iden-
.
Euphra M E S O P OTA M I A ZA I R AN
te
tified Semitic group is the Jewish people, whose traditional AKKAD Eshnunna G
R
sR
language, Hebrew, falls into the same group; they also origi- Ctesiphon O
.
I R AQ Sippar ELAM S
M
nated in Mesopotamia (for a discussion of the early history of Babylon Susa O
U
the Jews, see Chapter ). Arabic and some other Mediterra- Umma
Girsu
SUMER PERSIA
N
nean languages—including Maltese—are also Semitic.

TA
Uruk Lagash
IN
Ur
S
SAU DI
AR AB IA Persepolis
Sumer KUWAIT
Persian
Bishapur
SAU DI AR AB IA Gulf
The earliest Sumerian communities were agricultural settle-
ments on the land between the Tigris and Euphrates Rivers
(see Map 1.1). Because the land here is flat, dikes and canals ▲ MAP 1.1 Ancient Mesopotamia and Persia.
Mesopotamia | 13
were needed to irrigate farmland, to control flooding during the

rainy season, and to provide water predictably during the rest of
the year. Since such large-scale construction projects required
a great deal of manpower, small villages often consolidated into
towns.
The focus of life in a Sumerian town was the temple, sacred
to the particular god who watched over it. The Sumerian gods
were primarily deifications of nature: sky and earth, sun and ▲ 1.15A Reconstruction of the White Temple and ziggurat.
moon, lightning and storms. Anu was the god of the sky, Nanna The White Temple and ziggurat is so called because of its whitewashed
the god of the moon, and Abu the god of vegetation. The chief walls.
religious holidays were linked to the seasons and revolved

around rites intended to ensure bountiful crops. The most cel-
ebrated was the New Year festival, held in recognition of the
pivotal moment when the cold and barren winter (connected to earliest and best-preserved shrines in the region. It stands
the death of the fertility god Tammuz at the end of his yearly life on a ziggurat, a platform some  feet high whose corners
cycle) made way for a fertile spring (made possible by his resur- are oriented toward the compass points. As grand as it is, the
rection and sacred marriage to the goddess Inanna). White Temple pales in comparison to the scale of later ziggu-
Governing in cities like Uruk was primarily in the hands rats (the ziggurat known to the Hebrews as the Tower of Babel,
of the priests, who controlled and administered economic as a symbol of mortal pride, was some  feet high). Sumeri-
well as religious affairs. The king served as the representative ans believed that their gods resided above them and that they
on earth of the god of the city but, unlike the Egyptian pharaoh, would descend to meet their priests in the temples built high
was never thought of as divine nor became the center of a cult. above the ground. They called these shrines waiting rooms for
His focus was guarding the spiritual and physical well-being of the gods.
his people—building grander temples to the gods they relied Votive sculptures found beneath the floor of a temple to
on or providing for more sophisticated irrigation systems to Abu in Tell Asmar (Fig. 1.16) reinforce the essential role of reli-
ensure sustenance. The acquisition of personal wealth, endur- gion in Sumerian society. These works functioned as stand-ins,
ing fame, or deified status was not a goal, yet the kings had as it were, for donor worshippers who, in their absence, wished
great power. to continue to offer prayers to a specific deity. They range
The White Temple at Uruk (Fig. 1.15A and Fig. 1.15B), in height from less than  to more than  and are carved
so called because of its whitewashed walls, is among the from gypsum (a soft mineral found in rock) with alert inlaid
▲ 1.15B The White Temple and ziggurat, ca. 3200–3000 BCE, Uruk (modern Warka), Iraq. Ziggurat means
“pinnacle” or “mountaintop” and is the name of the elevated platform on which a temple sits. Mesopotamians
thought their gods would come down from the heavens and reveal themselves there.
eyes of shell and black limestone. The figures are cylindrical,

and all stand erect with hands clasped at their chests around
now-missing flasks. Distinctions are made between males and
females: The men have long, stylized beards and hair and wear
knee-length skirts decorated with incised lines describing fringe
at the hem. The women wear dresses with one shoulder bared
and the other draped with a shawl. Although these sculptures
are gypsum, the Sumerians worked primarily in clay because
of its abundance. They were expert ceramists and, as we have
seen, were capable of building monumental structures with
brick while their Egyptian contemporaries were using stone. It
is believed that the Sumerians traded crops for metal, wood,
and stone and used these materials to enlarge their repertory
of art objects.
The Sumerian repertory of subjects included fantastic
creatures such as music-making animals, bearded bulls, and
composite man-beasts with bull heads or scorpion bodies.
These were depicted in lavishly decorated objects of ham-
mered gold inlaid with lapis lazuli. Found among the remains
of Sumerian royal tombs, they are believed by some scholars to
have been linked to funerary rituals.
For a long time, the Sumerians were the principal force in
Mesopotamia, but they were not alone. Semitic peoples to the
north became increasingly strong, and eventually they estab-
lished an empire that ruled all of Mesopotamia and assimilated
the Sumerian culture.
By far the most important event of this stage in the develop-
ment of Sumerian culture was the invention of the first system
of writing, known as cuneiform (Fig. 1.17). The earliest form of
writing was developed at Uruk (now Warka, in southern Iraq),
▲ 1.16 Statues from Abu Temple, ca. 2700 BCE (Sumerian, Early
one of the first Mesopotamian settlements, around the middle
Dynasty period), Tel Asmar. Gypsum with shell and black limestone of the fourth millennium . It consisted of a series of sim-
inlay, male figure, 28 1⁄4" (72 cm) high, female figure, 23” (59 cm) plified picture signs (pictographs) that represented the objects
high. National Museum, Baghdad, Iraq. Votive figures were placed in
temples as stand-ins for absent worshippers.
▲ 1.17 Forms of early writing. Left: Tablet, ca. 3200 BCE, Kish, Iraq. Limestone, 1 3⁄4" (4.5 cm) long × 1 3⁄4"
(4.3 cm) wide × 7⁄8" (2.4 cm) deep. Musée du Louvre, Paris, France. Among the earliest examples of writing, the
pictographs on this tablet show a list of slaves’ names with a hand on the upper right representing their owner.
Center: Detail of a limestone bas-relief, ca. 2065–1785 BCE (Middle Kingdom) near the White Chapel of Karnak,
Thebes, Egypt. This hieroglyphic inscription is dedicated to Amon-Min in his role as god of fertility. Note the “life”
sign—the “ankh” —the fourth sign from the right on the top line. Right: Terra-cotta tablet, ca. 2550 BCE, Sumer.
Musée du Louvre, Paris, France. The cuneiform writing in this inscription records a bill of sale for a house and field
paid for in silver. Note that the cuneiform signs have lost their resemblance to picture writing.
Mesopotamia | 15
in the library of the Assyrian king Ashurbanipal in the city

of Nineveh. Believed to have been written originally by
Sumerians in cuneiform, it later was reworked by Akkadians,
Babylonians, and Assyrians. Although the origins of the epic
date back several millennia, our access only dates back to
the decipherment of cuneiform writing in the mid-th
century.
There is no doubt that Gilgamesh is an actual historical
figure, although the superhuman adventures that form the basis
of the epic might lead us to think otherwise. The epic begins, in
▲ 1.18 The Ugarit Tablet, c. 1400 BCE. Clay. National Museum of Tablet I, with his glorious ancestry—he is one-third human and
Damascus, Syria. The oldest known piece of musical notation to date, two-thirds divine—followed by the consequences of his some-
Ugarit Tablet H6 also contains instructions for the singer and harpist as times inglorious deeds:
well as tips on how to tune the harp.
READING 1.1 THE EPIC OF GILGAMESH

they described and, in addition, related ideas. Thus, a leg could
mean either a leg itself or the concept of walking. The signs Gilgamesh
were drawn on soft clay tablets, which were then baked hard.
Supreme over other kings, lordly in appearance,
These pictorial signs evolved into a series of wedge-shaped
He is the hero, born of Uruk, the goring wild bull.
marks that were pressed in clay with a split reed. The cuneiform
He walks out in front, the leader,
system (cuneus is the Latin word for “wedge”) had the advan-
And walks at the rear, trusted by his companions.
tages of being quick and economical, and inscribed clay tablets
Mighty net, protector of his people,
were easy to store. The ability to write made it possible to trade
Raging flood-wave who destroys even walls of stone!
and to keep detailed records, and with the increasing economic
Offspring of Lugalbanda,4 Gilgamesh is strong to perfection,
strength this more highly organized society brought, several
Son of the august cow, Rimat-Ninsun, . . . Gilgamesh is
powerful cities began to develop.
awesome to perfection.
Musical texts in cuneiform writing have been found, sug-
gesting that the Mesopotamians had a rich tradition of music
theory and practice. There is credible evidence that they had
a system of interrelated heptatonic scales—scales with seven Our impression of Gilgamesh is soon tempered, however,
pitches per octave (Fig. 1.18). by our awareness that in spite of his wisdom, might, and hero-
ics (or, perhaps because of them), his people find him arrogant
THE EPIC OF GILGAMESH The most famous of Sumerian and oppressive. One voice tells us that Gilgamesh “struts his
kings, Gilgamesh, ruled the city of Uruk some- power over the people like a wild bull.” The principal deity of
time between ca.  and  . Uruk, Anu, becomes aware of the
Under his reign, the massive city walls discontent of the people and calls
around Uruk were constructed, but upon the mother goddess, Aruru,
his name is more famously associated to create a worthy adversary for
with the mythic tales that evolved into Gilgamesh—Enkidu. Unlike Gil-
the first great masterpiece of poetic gamesh, Enkidu is kind and—living
expression—the Epic of Gilgamesh. It in a forest at one with nature and its
has come down to us on  clay tab- creatures—untainted by the dam-
lets dating to about  — aging consequences of civilization.
including Tablet XI, the so-called Their encounter represents the
flood tablet (Fig. 1.19)—found opposition of the ideals of nature
and culture that is a familiar theme
in the humanities.
▶ 1.19 Tablet XI (the Flood Tablet) Gilgamesh becomes aware of
of the Epic of Gilgamesh, 700–600 the gods’ object lesson and uses a
BCE, Nineveh (Kuyunjik), Iraq. Clay trapper disgruntled by Enkidu’s pro-
tablet fragment, 6" long × 5 1 ⁄4" wide × tection of the animals as a pawn to
1 1 ⁄4" deep (15.24 × 13.33 × 3.17 cm). The strip him of the power he holds in his
British Museum, London, United Kingdom. The
natural realm. The idea is to introduce
stone fragment identified as Tablet XI was one of
12 found in the library of King Ashurbanipal in Nineveh,
Assyria. . A king of Uruk.
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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

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The Legacy of Byzantine Culture 

Early Christian Art 

Islamic Literature 

and Byzantium  Islamic Arts 

The Middle Ages  The Gothic Age 

The Legend of Charlemagne 

Literature in the Fourteenth Century  Music 

Reading and Playlist Selections

 Reading . Homer Reading . Galen

Reading . Omar Khayyam  Reading . Petrarch

Reading . Beowulf

 Reading . Baldassare Castiglione Reading . Veronica Franco

Preface to the Ninth Edition

• Connections feature: Papermaking and Leonardo’s 

Lawrence Cunningham is the John A. O’Brien Professor of

For Faculty WRITING AND RESEARCH TOOLS IN QUESTIA

threatens their survival. We may not envision them as intelli-

First ritual burying of the dead Humans settle communities

◀ 1.6 Hall of the

◀ 1.9 Aerial view

walls of the Neolithic

S A N- H N- A G

Mystery Ladies of the Ancient World

A ustria, Bulgaria, Syria, Egypt, Ecuador, India, China,

▲ 1.12 Female figurine, 7000–6000 BCE, Syria. Hardstone,

are either shortened and stumpy, spindly, or wholly absent

ritual purpose or perhaps they were simply dolls. But since

▲ 1.14 Lady of Pazardzik, ca. 4500 BCE, Bulgaria. Ceramic

▲ 1.13 Female figure, ca. 3500–3400 BCE, Egypt. Painted

Enki = (Damkina) Gibil Shilpae Sahara Enlil = Ninlil

Manduk = Sarparit Nanshe Ninurta = Bau Nanna = Ningal Ishkur = Shala

Nergal = Ereshkigal Inanna = Dumuzi Utu = Aya

0 150 300 miles

In the ancient world, these included the Akkadians, Babylo- MEDIA

nean languages—including Maltese—are also Semitic.

were needed to irrigate farmland, to control flooding during the

religious holidays were linked to the seasons and revolved

eyes of shell and black limestone. The figures are cylindrical,

in the library of the Assyrian king Ashurbanipal in the city

READING 1.1 THE EPIC OF GILGAMESH

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

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

NATIVE PATH THROUGH THE MAKONDE BUSH, NEAR

MAKONDE LOCK AND KEY AT JUMBE CHAURO

MODE OF INSERTING THE KEY

With no small pride first one householder and then a second

Some consolation was afforded me by a brassfounder, whom I

SMOOTHING WITH MAIZE-COB

CUTTING THE EDGE

LAST SMOOTHING BEFORE

FIRING THE BRUSH-PILE

TURNING THE RED-HOT VESSEL

NYASA WOMAN MAKING POTS AT MASASI

DRAWING THE BARK OFF THE LOG

REMOVING THE OUTER BARK

WORKING THE BARK-CLOTH AFTER BEATING, TO MAKE IT

MANUFACTURE OF BARK-CLOTH AT NEWALA

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