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Praise for Tasha Suri and the Books of Ambha
Empire ofSand “Withwonderfully lyrical prose, Surideftly balances fantastic worldbuilding witha nuancedexploration offamily ties andthe lengths one willgo for love.”
—S. A. Chakraborty “Tasha Suri’s beautiful prose, with its undercurrent of warm tenderness, hides a web of escalating tension and existential dread. By the time the spider appears, Empireof Sandwill have you in its grip and you won’t be able to put it down.”
—PublishersWeekly(starred review) “A darkly intricate, devastating, and utterly original story about the ways we are bound by those we love.”
—R. F. Kuang “A brilliant debut that shows us a rich, magical world.… its core is a heroine defined by her choices, and her journey is absorbing, heart wrenching, and triumphant. Highly recommended.”
—Kevin Hearne “Astounding. The desert setting captured my imagination, the magic bound me up, and the epic story set my heart free.”
—Fran Wilde “Genuine, painful, and beautiful. A very strong start for a new voice.”
Kirkus(starred review) Realm of Ash “A poignant story of finding one’s place in a world warped by prejudice, court intrigue, violence, and sorcery.… Those with a penchant for lyrical prose, intricate world building, beautifully imagined characters, compelling immersive
folklore, and a fascinating look into a setting reminiscent of the Mughal Empire need look no further.”
Booklist(starred review) “Suri’s companion to EmpireofSand continues to expand on the stark beauty and power of this magical realm. With striking characters and court intrigue, this story is dark, melodious, and memorable.”
LibraryJournal(starred review) “Sharp worldbuilding, authentic characters, and thoughtful explorations of prejudice and misogyny bode well for future volumes.”
Kirkus(starred review) “Sumptuous.”
—PublishersWeekly“[A] feast of desert magic, palace intrigue, forbidden romance and veiled princesses making all their own hard choices.… For all the imaginative scope and fresh worldbuilding, the heart of Suri’s series beats in the chests of its indomitable heroines. Their every struggle and sacrifice, triumph and fear, resonate more deeply than the fates of whole worlds in less personal fantasies.”
ShelfAwareness“Suri takes us back to Ambha with RealmofAsh, an equally lush and tender narrative…RealmofAshis about anger as allowed—and how anger gets things done. Which makes both books, I think, stories that we deeply, deeply need right now.”
—StrangeHorizons
By Tasha Suri
THE BURNING KINGDOMS
TheJasmineThrone
THE BOOKS OF AMBHA
EmpireofSand
RealmofAsh
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
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First Edition: June 2021
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Suri, Tasha, author.
Title: The jasmine throne / Tasha Suri.
Description: First edition. | [New York, NY] : Orbit, [2021] | Series: The burning kingdoms ; book 1
Identifiers: LCCN 2020040047 | ISBN 9780316538510 (trade paperback) | ISBN 9780759554160 | ISBN 9780316538503
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020040047
ISBNs: 978-0-316-53851-0 (trade paperback), 978-0-7595-5416-0 (hardcover, library edition), 978-0-316-53852-7 (ebook) Printed in the United States of America LSC-C 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
E3
Contents
Cover
Disclaimer
Praise for TashaSuriandtheBooksofAmbha
By Tasha Suri
Title Page
Copyright Dedication
Prologue Chandra
Chapter 1 Priya
Chapter 2 Malini
Chapter 3 Priya
Chapter 4 Malini
Chapter 5 Ashok
Chapter 6 Priya
Chapter 7 Priya
Chapter 8 Ashok
Chapter 9 Vikram
Chapter 10 Rao
Chapter 11 Priya
Chapter 12 Priya
Chapter 13 Malini
Chapter 14 Priya
Chapter 15 Bhumika
Chapter 16 Priya
Chapter 17 Priya
Chapter 18 Malini
Chapter 19 Rao
Chapter 20 Jitesh
Chapter 21 Priya
Chapter 22 Priya
Chapter 23 Ashok
Chapter 24 Priya
Chapter 25 Malini
Chapter 26 Bhumika
Chapter 27 Priya
Chapter 28 Rao
Chapter 29 Priya
Chapter 30 Malini
Chapter 31 Priya
Chapter 32 Rao
Chapter 33 Priya
Chapter 34 Priya
Chapter 35 Ashok
Chapter 36 Bhumika
Chapter 37 Priya
Chapter 38 Malini
Chapter 39 Bhumika
Chapter 40 Mithunan
Chapter 41 Malini
Chapter 42 Ashok
Chapter 43 Priya
Chapter 44 Rao
Chapter 45 Bhumika
Chapter 46 Priya
Chapter 47 Vikram
Chapter 48 Rao
Chapter 49 CHANDNI
Chapter 50 Priya
Chapter 51 Rao
Chapter 52 Malini
Chapter 53 Priya
Chapter 54 Priya
Chapter 55 Ashok
Chapter 56 Malini
Chapter 57 Priya
Chapter 58 Malini
Chapter 59 Priya
Chapter 60 Malini
Chapter 61 Rao
Chapter 62 Malini
Chapter 63 Priya
Chapter 64 Bhumika
Chapter 65 Rao
Chapter 66 Priya
Chapter 67 Malini
Chapter 68 Bhumika
Chapter 69 Malini
Chapter 70 Priya
Epilogue Chandra
Acknowledgments
Cast of Characters
Extras
Meet the Author
A Preview of FortheWolf
A Preview of TheUnbroken
ForCarly. Youmaketheworldgood.
PROLOGUE CHANDRA
In the court of the imperial mahal, the pyre was being built.
The fragrance of the gardens drifted in through the high windows —sweet roses, and even sweeter imperial needle-flower, pale and fragile, growing in such thick profusion that it poured in through the lattice, its white petals unfurled against the sandstone walls. The priests flung petals on the pyre, murmuring prayers as the servants carried in wood and arranged it carefully, applying camphor and ghee, scattering drops of perfumed oil.
On his throne, Emperor Chandra murmured along with his priests. In his hands, he held a string of prayer stones, each an acorn seeded with the name of a mother of flame: Divyanshi, Ahamara, Nanvishi, Suhana, Meenakshi. As he recited, his courtiers—the kings of Parijatdvipa’s city-states, their princely sons, their bravest warriors— recited along with him. Only the king of Alor and his brood of nameless sons were notably, pointedly, silent.
Emperor Chandra’s sister was brought into the court.
Her ladies-in-waiting stood on either side of her. To her left, a nameless princess of Alor, commonly referred to only as Alori; to her right, a high-blooded lady, Narina, daughter of a notable mathematician from Srugna and a highborn Parijati mother. The ladies-in-waiting wore red, bloody and bridal. In their hair, they wore crowns of kindling, bound with thread to mimic stars. As they
entered the room, the watching men bowed, pressing their faces to the floor, their palms flat on the marble. The women had been dressed with reverence, marked with blessed water, prayed over for a day and a night until dawn had touched the sky. They were as holy as women could be.
Chandra did not bow his head. He watched his sister.
She wore no crown. Her hair was loose—tangled, trailing across her shoulders. He had sent maids to prepare her, but she had denied them all, gnashing her teeth and weeping. He had sent her a sari of crimson, embroidered in the finest Dwarali gold, scented with needle-flower and perfume. She had refused it, choosing instead to wear palest mourning white. He had ordered the cooks to lace her food with opium, but she had refused to eat. She had not been blessed. She stood in the court, her head unadorned and her hair wild, like a living curse.
His sister was a fool and a petulant child. They would not be here, he reminded himself, if she had not proven herself thoroughly unwomanly. If she had not tried to ruin it all.
The head priest kissed the nameless princess upon the forehead. He did the same to Lady Narina. When he reached for Chandra’s sister, she flinched, turning her cheek.
The priest stepped back. His gaze—and his voice—were tranquil.
“You may rise,” he said. “Rise, and become mothers of flame.”
His sister took her ladies’ hands. She clasped them tight. They stood, the three of them, for a long moment, simply holding one another. Then his sister released them.
The ladies walked to the pyre and rose to its zenith. They kneeled.
His sister remained where she was. She stood with her head raised. A breeze blew needle-flower into her hair white upon deepest black.
“Princess Malini,” said the head priest. “You may rise.”
She shook her head wordlessly.
Rise, Chandra thought. I have been more merciful than you deserve,andwebothknowit.
Rise,sister .
“It is your choice,” the priest said. “We will not compel you. Will you forsake immortality, or will you rise?”
The offer was a straightforward one. But she did not move. She shook her head once more. She was weeping, silently, her face otherwise devoid of feeling.
The priest nodded.
“Then we begin,” he said.
Chandra stood. The prayer stones clinked as he released them. Of course it had come to this.
He stepped down from his throne. He crossed the court, before a sea of bowing men. He took his sister by the shoulders, ever so gentle.
“Do not be afraid,” he told her. “You are proving your purity. You are saving your name. Your honor. Now. Rise.”
One of the priests had lit a torch. The scent of burning and camphor filled the court. The priests began to sing, a low song that filled the air, swelled within it. They would not wait for his sister.
But there was still time. The pyre had not yet been lit.
As his sister shook her head once more, he grasped her by the skull, raising her face up.
He did not hold her tight. He did not harm her. He was not a monster.
“Remember,” he said, voice low, drowned out by the sonorous song, “that you have brought this upon yourself. Remember that you have betrayed your family and denied your name. If you do not rise… sister, remember that you have chosen to ruin yourself, and I have done all in my power to help you. Remember that.”
The priest touched his torch to the pyre. The wood, slowly, began to burn.
Firelight reflected in her eyes. She looked at him with a face like a mirror: blank of feeling, reflecting nothing back at him but their shared dark eyes and serious brows. Their shared blood and shared bone.
“My brother,” she said. “I will not forget.”
PRIYA
Someone important must have been killed in the night.
Priya was sure of it the minute she heard the thud of hooves on the road behind her. She stepped to the roadside as a group of guards clad in Parijati white and gold raced past her on their horses, their sabers clinking against their embossed belts. She drew her pallu over her face—partly because they would expect such a gesture of respect from a common woman, and partly to avoid the risk that one of them would recognize her and watched them through the gap between her fingers and the cloth.
When they were out of sight, she didn’t run. But she did start walking very, very fast. The sky was already transforming from milky gray to the pearly blue of dawn, and she still had a long way to go.
The Old Bazaar was on the outskirts of the city. It was far enough from the regent’s mahal that Priya had a vague hope it wouldn’t have been shut yet. And today, she was lucky. As she arrived, breathless, sweat dampening the back of her blouse, she could see that the streets were still seething with people: parents tugging along small children; traders carrying large sacks of flour or rice on
their heads; gaunt beggars, skirting the edges of the market with their alms bowls in hand; and women like Priya, plain ordinary women in even plainer saris, stubbornly shoving their way through the crowd in search of stalls with fresh vegetables and reasonable prices.
If anything, there seemed to be even more people at the bazaar than usual—and there was a distinct sour note of panic in the air. News of the patrols had clearly passed from household to household with its usual speed.
People were afraid.
Three months ago, an important Parijati merchant had been murdered in his bed, his throat slit, his body dumped in front of the temple of the mothers of flame just before the dawn prayers. For an entire two weeks after that, the regent’s men had patrolled the streets on foot and on horseback, beating or arresting any Ahiranyi suspected of rebellious activity and destroying any market stalls that had tried to remain open in defiance of the regent’s strict orders.
The Parijatdvipan merchants had refused to supply Hiranaprastha with rice and grain in the weeks that followed. Ahiranyi had starved.
Now it looked as though it was happening again. It was natural for people to remember and fear; remember, and scramble to buy what supplies they could before the markets were forcibly closed once more.
Priya wondered who had been murdered this time, listening for any names as she dove into the mass of people, toward the green banner on staves in the distance that marked the apothecary’s stall. She passed tables groaning under stacks of vegetables and sweet fruit, bolts of silky cloth and gracefully carved idols of the yaksa for family shrines, vats of golden oil and clarified butter. Even in the faint early-morning light, the market was vibrant with color and noise.
The press of people grew more painful.
She was nearly to the stall, caught in a sea of heaving, sweating bodies, when a man behind her cursed and pushed her out of the way. He shoved her hard with his full body weight, his palm heavy
on her arm, unbalancing her entirely. Three people around her were knocked back. In the sudden release of pressure, she tumbled down onto the ground, feet skidding in the wet soil.
The bazaar was open to the air, and the dirt had been churned into a froth by feet and carts and the night’s monsoon rainfall. She felt the wetness seep in through her sari, from hem to thigh, soaking through draped cotton to the petticoat underneath. The man who had shoved her stumbled into her; if she hadn’t snatched her calf swiftly back, the pressure of his boot on her leg would have been agonizing. He glanced down at her—blank, dismissive, a faint sneer to his mouth—and looked away again.
Her mind went quiet.
In the silence, a single voice whispered, You could make him regretthat.
There were gaps in Priya’s childhood memories, spaces big enough to stick a fist through. But whenever pain was inflicted on her—the humiliation of a blow, a man’s careless shove, a fellow servant’s cruel laughter—she felt the knowledge of how to cause equal suffering unfurl in her mind. Ghostly whispers, in her brother’s patient voice.
Thisishowyoupincha nerve hardenoughtobreaka handhold. Thisishowyousnap a bone. Thisishowyougouge an eye. Watch carefully,Priya.Justlikethis.
Thisishowyoustabsomeonethroughtheheart.
She carried a knife at her waist. It was a very good knife, practical, with a plain sheath and hilt, and she kept its edge finely honed for kitchen work. With nothing but her little knife and a careful slide of her finger and thumb, she could leave the insides of anything—vegetables, unskinned meat, fruits newly harvested from the regent’s orchard—swiftly bared, the outer rind a smooth, coiled husk in her palm.
She looked back up at the man and carefully let the thought of her knife drift away. She unclenched her trembling fingers.
You’relucky, she thought, thatIamnotwhatIwasraisedtobe. The crowd behind her and in front of her was growing thicker.
Priya couldn’t even see the green banner of the apothecary’s stall any longer. She rocked back on the balls of her feet, then rose swiftly. Without looking at the man again, she angled herself and slipped between two strangers in front of her, putting her small stature to good use and shoving her way to the front of the throng. A judicious application of her elbows and knees and some wriggling finally brought her near enough to the stall to see the apothecary’s face, puckered with sweat and irritation.
The stall was a mess, vials turned on their sides, clay pots upended. The apothecary was packing away his wares as fast as he could. Behind her, around her, she could hear the rumbling noise of the crowd grow more tense.
“Please,” she said loudly. “Uncle, please. If you’ve got any beads of sacred wood to spare, I’ll buy them from you.”
A stranger to her left snorted audibly. “You think he’s got any left? Brother, if you do, I’ll pay double whatever she offers.”
“My grandmother’s sick,” a girl shouted, three people deep behind them. “So if you could help me out, uncle—”
Priya felt the wood of the stall begin to peel beneath the hard pressure of her nails.
“Please,” she said, her voice pitched low to cut across the din.
But the apothecary’s attention was raised toward the back of the crowd. Priya didn’t have to turn her own head to know he’d caught sight of the white and gold uniforms of the regent’s men, finally here to close the bazaar.
“I’m closed up,” he shouted out. “There’s nothing more for any of you. Get lost!” He slammed his hand down, then shoved the last of his wares away with a shake of his head.
The crowd began to disperse slowly. A few people stayed, still pleading for the apothecary’s aid, but Priya didn’t join them. She knew she would get nothing here.
She turned and threaded her way back out of the crowd, stopping only to buy a small bag of kachoris from a tired-eyed vendor. Her sodden petticoat stuck heavily to her legs. She plucked the cloth,
pulling it from her thighs, and strode in the opposite direction of the soldiers.
On the farthest edge of the market, where the last of the stalls and well-trod ground met the main road leading to open farmland and scattered villages beyond, was a dumping ground. The locals had built a brick wall around it, but that did nothing to contain the stench of it. Food sellers threw their stale oil and decayed produce here, and sometimes discarded any cooked food that couldn’t be sold.
When Priya had been much younger she’d known this place well. She’d known exactly the nausea and euphoria that finding something near rotten but edible could send spiraling through a starving body. Even now, her stomach lurched strangely at the sight of the heap, the familiar, thick stench of it rising around her.
Today, there were six figures huddled against its walls in the meager shade. Five young boys and a girl of about fifteen—older than the rest.
Knowledge was shared between the children who lived alone in the city, the ones who drifted from market to market, sleeping on the verandas of kinder households. They whispered to each other the best spots for begging for alms or collecting scraps. They passed word of which stallholders would give them food out of pity, and which would beat them with a stick sooner than offer even an ounce of charity.
They told each other about Priya, too.
Ifyougo totheOldBazaar on thefirstmorningafterrestday, a maidwillcome andgiveyou sacredwood,ifyou needit.Shewon’t askyou for coin or favors. She’lljusthelp. No, she really will. She won’taskforanythingatall.
The girl looked up at Priya. Her left eyelid was speckled with faint motes of green, like algae on still water. She wore a thread around her throat, a single bead of wood strung upon it.
“Soldiers are out,” the girl said by way of greeting. A few of the boys shifted restlessly, looking over her shoulder at the tumult of the
market. Some wore shawls to hide the rot on their necks and arms— the veins of green, the budding of new roots under skin.
“They are. All over the city,” Priya agreed.
“Did a merchant get his head chopped off again?”
Priya shook her head. “I know as much as you do.”
The girl looked from Priya’s face down to Priya’s muddied sari, her hands empty apart from the sack of kachoris. There was a question in her gaze.
“I couldn’t get any beads today,” Priya confirmed. She watched the girl’s expression crumple, though she valiantly tried to control it. Sympathy would do her no good, so Priya offered the pastries out instead. “You should go now. You don’t want to get caught by the guards.”
The children snatched the kachoris up, a few muttering their thanks, and scattered. The girl rubbed the bead at her throat with her knuckles as she went. Priya knew it would be cold under her hand—empty of magic.
If the girl didn’t get hold of more sacred wood soon, then the next time Priya saw her, the left side of her face would likely be as green-dusted as her eyelid.
Youcan’tsavethemall, she reminded herself. You’renoone.This isallyoucando.This,andnomore.
Priya turned back to leave and saw that one boy had hung back, waiting patiently for her to notice him. He was the kind of small that suggested malnourishment; his bones too sharp, his head too large for a body that hadn’t yet grown to match it. He had his shawl over his hair, but she could still see his dark curls, and the deep green leaves growing between them. He’d wrapped his hands up in cloth.
“Do you really have nothing, ma’am?” he asked hesitantly.
“Really,” Priya said. “If I had any sacred wood, I’d have given it to you.”
“I thought maybe you lied,” he said. “I thought, maybe you haven’t got enough for more than one person, and you didn’t want to make anyone feel bad. But there’s only me now. So you can help me.”
“I really am sorry,” Priya said. She could hear yelling and
footsteps echoing from the market, the crash of wood as stalls were closed up.
The boy looked like he was mustering up his courage. And sure enough, after a moment, he squared his shoulders and said, “If you can’t get me any sacred wood, then can you get me a job?”
She blinked at him, surprised.
“I I’m just a maidservant,” she said. “I’m sorry, little brother, but —”
“You must work in a nice house, if you can help strays like us,” he said quickly. “A big house with money to spare. Maybe your masters need a boy who works hard and doesn’t make much trouble? That could be me.”
“Most households won’t take a boy who has the rot, no matter how hardworking he is,” she pointed out gently, trying to lessen the blow of her words.
“I know,” he said. His jaw was set, stubborn. “But I’m still asking.”
Smart boy. She couldn’t blame him for taking the chance. She was clearly soft enough to spend her own coin on sacred wood to help the rot-riven. Why wouldn’t he push her for more?
“I’ll do anything anyone needs me to do,” he insisted. “Ma’am, I can clean latrines. I can cut wood. I can work land. My family is— they were—farmers. I’m not afraid of hard work.”
“You haven’t got anyone?” she asked. “None of the others look out for you?” She gestured in the vague direction the other children had vanished.
“I’m alone,” he said simply. Then: “Please.”
A few people drifted past them, carefully skirting the boy. His wrapped hands, the shawl over his head—both revealed his rot-riven status just as well as anything they hid would have.
“Call me Priya,” she said. “Not ma’am.”
“Priya,” he repeated obediently.
“You say you can work,” she said. She looked at his hands. “How bad are they?”
“Not that bad.”
“Show me,” she said. “Give me your wrist.”
Another random document with no related content on Scribd:
The Project Gutenberg eBook of Anthropology
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.
Title: Anthropology
Author: A. L. Kroeber
Release date: October 7, 2023 [eBook #71827]
Language: English
Original publication: New York: Harcourt, Brace, & Co, 1923
Credits: Tim Lindell and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK
ANTHROPOLOGY
By A. L. KROEBER
NEW YORK
HARCOURT, BRACE AND COMPANY
COPYRIGHT, 1923, BY HARCOURT, BRACE AND COMPANY, INC.
PRINTED IN THE U. S. A. BY THE QUINN & BODEN COMPANY RAHWAY, N. J.
PREFACE
In the preparation of Chapters II, III, and VI of this book I have drawn on a University of California syllabus, “Three Essays on the Antiquity and Races of Man”; for Chapter VII, on an article “Heredity, Environment, and Civilization” in the American Museum Journal for 1918; and Chapter V makes use of some passages of “The Languages of the American Indians” from the Popular Science Monthly of 1911. In each case there has been revision and for the most part rewriting.
Whatever quality of lucidity the volume may have is due to several thousand young men and women with whom I have been associated during many years at the University of California. Without their unwitting but real co-authorship the book might never have been written, or would certainly have been written less simply
A. L. K.
Berkeley, California, January 22, 1923.
CHAPTER PAGE
I. S C A 1
1 Anthropology, biology, history 2 Organic and social elements —3 Physical anthropology —4 Cultural anthropology — 5 Evolutionary processes and evolutionistic fancies —6 Age of anthropological science.
II. F M 11
7. The “Missing Link.” 8. Family tree of the Primates. 9. Geological and glacial time 10 Place of man’s origin and development 11 Pithecanthropus 12 Heidelberg man 13 The Piltdown form 14 Neandertal man 15 Rhodesian man 16 The Cro-Magnon race 17 The Brünn race 18 The Grimaldi race: Neolithic races 19 The metric expression of human evolution
III. L R 34
20. Race origins. 21. Race classification. 22. Traits on which classification rests. 23. The grand divisions or primary stocks. 24. Caucasian races. 25. Mongoloid races. 26. Negroid races. 27. Peoples of doubtful position. 28. Continents and oceans. 29. The history of race classifications 30 Emergence of the threefold classification 31 Other classifications 32 Principles and conclusions common to all classifications 33 Race, nationality, and language
IV. P R 58
34. Questions of endowment and their validity. 35. Plan of inquiry. 36. Anatomical evidence on evolutionary rank. 37. Comparative physiological data. 38. Disease. 39. Causes of cancer incidence. 40. Mental achievement and social environment. 41. Psychological tests on the sense faculties. 42. Intelligence tests 43 Status of hybrids 44 Evidence from the cultural record of races 45 Emotional bias 46 Summary
V. L 87
47. Linguistic relationship: the speech family. 48. Criteria of relationship. 49. Sound equivalences and phonetic laws. 50.
The principal speech families. 51. Classification of language by types. 52. Permanence of language and race. 53. The biological and historical nature of language 54 Problems of the relation of language and culture 55 Period of the origin of language 56 Culture, speech, and nationality 57 Relative worth of languages 58 Size of vocabulary 59 Quality of speech sounds 60 Diffusion and parallelism in language and culture 61 Convergent languages —62 Unconscious factors in language and culture — 63 Linguistic and cultural standards —64 Rapidity of linguistic change.
VI. T B H C
65. Fossils of the body and of the mind. 66. Stone and metals.
67. The old and the new stone ages. 68. The Eolithic Age. 69. The Palæolithic Age: duration, climate, animals 70 Subdivisions of the Palæolithic 71 Human racial types in the Palæolithic 72 Palæolithic flint implements 73 Other materials: bone and horn 74 Dress 75 Harpoons and weapons 76 Wooden implements 77 Fire 78 Houses 79 Religion 80 Palæolithic art —81 Summary of advance in the Palæolithic
VII. H , C , C
82. Heredity. 83. Geographical environment. 84. Diet. 85. Agriculture. 86. Cultural factors. 87. Cultural distribution. 88. Historical induction.
137
180
VIII. D 194
89. The couvade.—90. Proverbs.—91. Geographic distribution. 92. The magic flight. 93. Flood legends. 94. The doubleheaded eagle. 95. The Zodiac. 96. Measures. 97. Divination. 98. Tobacco. 99. Migrations.
IX. P
100 General observations 101 Cultural context 102 Universal elements 103 Secondary parallelism in the IndoEuropean languages 104 Textile patterns and processes 105 Primary parallelism: the beginnings of writing —106 Time reckoning —107 Scale and pitch of Pan’s pipes —108 Bronze — 109. Zero.—110. Exogamic institutions.—111. Parallels and psychology. 112. Limitations on the parallelistic principle.
216
X. T A W 241
113. House building and architecture. 114. The problem of spanning 115 The column and beam 116 The corbelled arch 117 The true arch 118 Babylonian and Etruscan beginnings 119 The Roman arch and dome 120 Mediæval cathedrals
121. The Arabs: India: modern architecture. 122. The week: holy numbers. 123. Babylonian discovery of the planets. 124. Greek and Egyptian contributions: the astrological combination 125 The names of the days and the Sabbath 126 The week in Christianity, Islam, and eastern Asia 127 Summary of the diffusion 128 Month-thirds and market weeks 129 Leap days as parallels
XI. T S A
130. Kinds of writing: pictographic and mixed phonetic. 131. Deficiencies of transitional systems. 132. Abbreviation and conventionalization. 133. Presumptive origins of transitional systems. 134. Phonetic writing: the primitive Semitic alphabet. 135. The Greek alphabet: invention of the vowels. 136. Slowness of the invention 137 The Roman alphabet 138 Letters as numeral signs 139 Reform in institutions 140 The sixth and seventh letters 141 The tail of the alphabet 142 Capitals and minuscules 143 Conservatism and rationalization 144 Gothic 145 Hebrew and Arabic 146 The spread eastward: the writing of India —147 Syllabic tendencies —148 The East Indies: Philippine alphabets.—149. Northern Asia: the conflict of systems in Korea.
XII. T G P R
150. Regional variation of culture. 151. Plains, Southwest, Northwest areas 152 California and its sub-areas 153 The shaping of a problem 154 Girls’ Adolescence Rite 155 The First Period 156 The Second Period: Mourning Anniversary and First-salmon rite 157 Era of regional differentiation 158 Third and Fourth Periods in Central California: Kuksu and Hesi 159 Third and Fourth Periods in Southern California: Jimsonweed and Chungichnish —160 Third and Fourth Periods on the Lower Colorado: Dream Singing.—161. Northwestern California: worldrenewal and wealth display. 162. Summary of religious development. 163. Other phases of culture. 164. Outline of the culture history of California. 165. The question of dating. 166. The evidence of archæology. 167. Age of the shell mounds. 168. General serviceability of the method.
XIII. T H C N A
169 Review of the method of culture examination 170 Limitations on the diffusion principle —171 Cultural ranking —172 Cultural abnormalities —173 Environmental considerations —174 Culture areas.—175. Diagrammatic representation of accumulation and diffusion of culture traits. 176. Representation showing
263
293
326
contemporaneity and narrative representation. 177. Racial origin of the American Indians. 178. The time of the peopling of America 179 Linguistic diversification 180 The primitive culture of the immigrants 181 The route of entry into the western hemisphere 182 The spread over two continents 183 Emergence of middle American culture: maize 184 Tobacco 185 The sequence of social institutions 186 Rise of political institutions: confederacy and empire —187 Developments in weaving —188 Progress in spinning: cotton —189 Textile clothing —190. Cults: Shamanism.—191. Crisis rites and initiations.—192. Secret societies and masks. 193. Priesthood. 194. Temples and sacrifice. 195. Architecture, sculpture, towns. 196. Metallurgy. 197. Calendars and astronomy. 198. Writing. 199. The several provincial developments: Mexico. 200. The Andean area. 201. Colombia. 202. The Tropical Forest. 203. Patagonia. 204. North America: the Southwest. 205. The Southeast. 206. The Northern Woodland. 207. Plains area. 208. The Northwest Coast. 209. Northern marginal areas. 210. Later Asiatic influences.
XIV. T G C : O W P A 393
211. Sources of knowledge. 212. Chronology of the grand divisions of culture history. 213. The Lower and Upper Palæolithic. 214. Race influence and regional differentiation in the Lower Palæolithic. 215. Upper Palæolithic culture growths and races. 216. The Palæolithic aftermath: Azilian. 217. The Neolithic: its early phase. 218. Pottery and the bow. 219. Bone tools 220 The dog 221 The hewn ax 222 The Full Neolithic 223 Origin of domesticated animals and plants 224 Other traits of the Full Neolithic 225 The Bronze Age: Copper and Bronze phases 226 Traits associated with bronze 227 Iron 228 First use and spread of iron 229 The Hallstadt and La Tène Periods —230 Summary of Development: Regional differentiation.—231. The Scandinavian area as an example.—232. The late Palæolithic Ancylus or Maglemose Period. 233. The Early Neolithic Litorina or Kitchenmidden Period. 234. The Full Neolithic and its subdivisions in Scandinavia. 235. The Bronze Age and its periods in Scandinavia. 236. Problems of chronology. 237. Principles of the prehistoric spread of culture.
XV T G C : O W H
E 440
238. The early focal area.—239. Egypt and Sumer and their
background. 240. Predynastic Egypt. 241. Culture growth in dynastic Egypt. 242. The Sumerian development. 243. The Sumerian hinterland 244 Entry of Semites and Indo-Europeans 245 Iranian peoples and cultures 246 The composite culture of the Near East 247 Phœnicians, Aramæans, Hebrews 248 Other contributing nationalities 249 Ægean civilization 250 Europe 251 China 252 Growth and spread of Chinese civilization —253 The Lolos —254 Korea —255 Japan —256 Central and northern Asia —257 India —258 Indian caste and religion.—259. Relations between India and the outer world.—260. Indo-China. 261. Oceania. 262. The East Indies. 263. Melanesia and Polynesia. 264. Australia. 265. Tasmania. 266. Africa. 267. Egyptian radiations. 268. The influence of other cultures. 269. The Bushmen. 270. The West African culturearea and its meaning. 271. Civilization, race, and the future.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
24. Magdalenian engraving of a browsing reindeer 177
25. Growth of civilization during the Palæolithic: diagram 178
26. Culture distribution and history in the Southwest: diagram 191
27. Map: diffusion of the Magic Flight tale 201
28. Maya symbols for zero 230
29. Map: types of exogamic institutions in Australia 233
30. Map: the spread of alphabetic writing (facing) 284
31. Map: culture-areas of native California 297
32. Map: the growth of rituals in native California 308
33. Distribution of culture elements indicative of their history: diagram 328
34. Map: culture-areas of America 337
35. Occurrence of elements in the culture-areas of America: diagram (facing) 340
36. Development of American civilization in time, according to Spinden: diagram (facing) 342
37. Map: Europe in the early Lower Palæolithic 399
38. Map: Europe in the Aurignacian and Lower Capsian 401
39. Map: Europe in the Solutrean, Magdalenian, and Upper Capsian 403
40. Map: Europe in the Azilian and Terminal Capsian 409
41. Prehistoric corbelled domes in Greece, Portugal, and Ireland 420
42. Growth and spread of prehistoric civilization in Europe, according to Müller: diagram 436
ANTHROPOLOGY
CHAPTER I
SCOPE AND CHARACTER OF ANTHROPOLOGY
1. Anthropology, biology, history. 2. Organic and social elements. 3. Physical anthropology. 4. Cultural anthropology. 5. Evolutionary processes and evolutionistic fancies. 6. Age of anthropological science
1. A , B , H
Anthropology is the science of man. This broad and literal definition takes on more meaning when it is expanded to “the science of man and his works.” Even then it may seem heterogeneous and too inclusive. The products of the human mind are something different from the body. And these products, as well as the human body, are the subjects of firmly established sciences, which would seem to leave little room for anthropology except as a less organized duplication. Ordinary political history, economics, literary criticism, and the history of art all deal with the works and doings of man; biology and medicine study his body. It is evident that these various branches of learning cannot be relegated to the position of mere subdivisions of anthropology and this be exalted to the rank of a sort of holding corporation for them. There must be some definite and workable relation.
One way in which this relation can be pictured follows to some extent the course of anthropology as it grew into self-consciousness and recognition. Biology, medicine, history, economies were all tilling their fields of knowledge in the nineteenth century, some with long occupancy, when anthropology shyly entered the scene and began to cultivate a corner here and a patch there. It examined some of the most special and non-utilitarian aspects of the human body: the shape of the head, the complexion, the texture of the hair, the
differences between one variety of man and another, points of negligible import in medicine and of quite narrow interest as against the broad principles which biology was trying to found and fortify as the science of all life. So too the historical sciences had preëmpted the most convenient and fruitful subjects within reach. Anthropology modestly turned its attention to nations without records, to histories without notable events, to institutions strange in flavor and inventions hanging in their infancy, to languages that had never been written.
Yet obviously the heterogeneous leavings of several sciences will never weld into an organized and useful body of knowledge. The dilettante, the collector of oddities who loves incoherence, may be content to observe to-day the flare of the negro’s nostrils, to-morrow the intricacy of prefixes that bind his words into sentences, the day after, his attempts to destroy a foe by driving nails into a wooden idol. A science becomes such only when it learns to discover relations and a meaning in facts. If anthropology were to remain content with an interest in the Mongolian eye, the dwarfishness of the Negrito, the former home of the Polynesian race, taboos against speaking to one’s mother-in-law, rituals to make rain, and other such exotic and superseded superstitions, it would earn no more dignity than an antiquarian’s attic. As a co-laborer on the edifice of fuller understanding, anthropology must find more of a task than filling with rubble the temporarily vacant spaces in the masonry that the sciences are rearing.
The other manner in which the subject of anthropology can be conceived is that this is neither so vast as to include everything human, nor is it the unappropriated odds and ends of other sciences, but rather some particular aspect of human phenomena. If such an aspect exists, anthropology vindicates its unity and attains to integrity of aim.
2. O S E
To the question why a Louisiana negro is black and thick lipped, the answer is ready. He was born so. As dogs produce pups, and lions cubs, so negro springs from negro and Caucasian from
Caucasian. We call the force at work, heredity The same negro is lazy by repute, easy going at his labor. Is this too an innate quality? Off-hand, most of us would reply: Yes. He sings at his corn-hoeing more frequently than the white man across the fence. Is this also because of his heredity? “Of course: he is made so,” might be a common answer; “Probably: why not?” a more cautious one. But now our negro is singing Suwanee River, which his great-grandfather in Africa assuredly did not sing. As regards the specific song, heredity is obviously no longer the cause. Our negro may have learned it from an uncle, perhaps from his schoolmates; he can have acquired it from human beings not his ancestors, acquired it as part of his customs, like being a member of the Baptist church and wearing overalls, and the thousand other things that come to him from without instead of from within. At these points heredity is displaced by tradition, nature by nurture, to use a familiar jingle. The efficient forces now are quite different from those that made his skin black and his lips thick. They are causes of another order.
The particular song of the negro and his complexion represent the clear-cut extremes of the matter. Between them lie the sloth and the inclination to melody. Obviously these traits may also be the result of human example, of social environment, of contemporary tradition. There are those that so believe, as well as those who see in them only the effects of inborn biological impulse. Perhaps these intermediate dubious traits are the results of a blending of nature and nurture, the strength of each factor varying according to each trait or individual examined. Clearly, at any rate, there is room here for debate and evidence. A genuine problem exists. This problem cannot be solved by the historical sciences alone because they do not concern themselves with heredity. Nor can it be solved by biology which deals with heredity and allied factors but does not go on to operate with the non-biological principle of tradition.
Here, then, is a specific task and place in the sun for anthropology: the interpretation of those phenomena into which both organic and social causes enter. The untangling and determination and reconciling of these two sets of forces are anthropology’s own. They constitute, whatever else it may undertake, the focus of its attention
and an ultimate goal. No other science has grappled with this set of problems as its primary end. Nor has anthropology as yet much of a solution to offer. It may be said to have cleared the ground of brush, rather than begun the felling of its tree. But, in the terminology of science, it has at least defined its problem.
To deal with this interplay of what is natural and nurtural, organic and social, anthropology must know something of the organic, as such, and of the social, as such. It must be able to recognize them with surety before it endeavors to analyze and resynthesize them. It must therefore effect close contact with the organic and the social sciences respectively, with “biology” and “history,” and derive all possible aid from their contributions to knowledge. Up to the present time, a large part of the work of anthropology has consisted in acquiring the fruits of the activity of these sister sciences and applying them for its own ends; or, where the needed biological and historical data were not available, securing them.
3. P A
The organic sciences underlie the social ones. They are more directly “natural.” Anthropology has therefore found valuable general principles in biology: laws of heredity, the doctrines of cell development and evolution, for instance, based on facts from the whole range of life. Its business has been to ascertain how far these principles apply to man, what forms they take in his particular case. This has meant a concentration of attention, the devising of special methods of inquiry Many biological problems, including most physiological and hereditary ones, can be most profitably attacked in the laboratory, or at least under experimental conditions. This method, however, is but rarely open as regards human beings, who must ordinarily be observed as they are. The phenomena concerning man have to be taken as they come and laboriously sifted and resifted afterward, instead of being artificially simplified in advance, as by the experimental method. Then, too, since anthropology was operating within the narrow limits of one species, it was driven to concern itself with minute traits, such as the zoölogist is rarely
troubled with: the proportions of the length and breadth of the skull— the famous cephalic index—for instance; the number of degrees the arm bones are twisted, and the like. Also, as these data had to be used in the gross, unmodifiable by artificially varied conditions, it has been necessary to secure them from all possible varieties of men, different races, sexes, ages, and their nearest brute analogues. The result is that biological or physical anthropology—“Somatology” it is sometimes called in Anglo-Saxon countries, and simply “anthropology” in continental Europe—has in part constituted a sort of specialization or sharpening of general biology, and has become absorbed to a considerable degree in certain particular phenomena and methods of studying them about which general biologists, physiologists, palæontologists, and students of medicine are usually but vaguely informed.
4. C A
The historical or social sciences overlie the organic ones. Men’s bodies and natural equipment are back of their deeds and accomplishments as transmitted by tradition, primary to their culture or civilization. The relation of anthropology to historical science has therefore been in a sense the opposite of its relation to biological science. Instead of specializing, anthropology has been occupied with trying to generalize the findings of history. Historians cannot experiment. They deal with the concrete, with the unique; for in a degree every historical event has something unparalleled about it. They may paint with a broad sweep, but they do not lay down exact laws.
Moreover, history inevitably begins with an interest in the present and in ourselves. In proportion as it reaches back in time and to wholly foreign peoples, its interest tends to flag and its materials become scant and unreliable. It is commonly considered useful for a man to know that Napoleon was a Corsican and was defeated at Waterloo in 1815, but a rather pedantic piece of knowledge that Shi Hwang-ti was born in northwestern China and unified the rule of China in 221 B.C. From a theoretical or general point of view,
however, one of these facts is presumably as important as the other, for if we wish to know the principles that go into the shaping of human social life or civilization, China counts for as much as France, and the ancient past for as much as the nearby present. In fact, the foreign and the old are likely to be inquired into with even more assiduity by the theoretically minded, since they may furnish wholly new clues to insight, whereas the subjects of conventional history have been so familiarized as to hold out less hope of novel conclusions still to be extricated from them.
Here, then, is the cause of the seeming preoccupation of social or cultural anthropology with ancient and savage and exotic and extinct peoples: the desire to understand better all civilizations, irrespective of time and place, in the abstract or in form of generalized principle if possible. It is not that cave men are more illuminating than Romans, or flint knives more interesting than fine porcelains or the art of printing, that has led anthropology to bear so heavily on the former, but the fact that it wanted to know about cave men and flint knives as well as about Romans and printing presses. It would be irrational to prefer the former to the latter, and anthropology has never accepted the adjudication sometimes tacitly rendered that its proper field is the primitive, as such. As well might zoölogy confine its interest to eggs or protozoans. It is probably true that many researches into early and savage history have sprung from an emotional predilection for the forgotten or neglected, the obscure and strange, the unwonted and mysterious. But such occasional personal æsthetic trends can not delimit the range of a science or determine its aims and methods. Innumerable historians have been inveterate gossips. One does not therefore insist that the only proper subject of history is backstairs intimacies.
This, then, is the reason for the special development of those subdivisions of anthropology known as Archæology, “the science of what is old” in the career of humanity, especially as revealed by excavations of the sites of prehistoric occupation; and Ethnology, “the science of peoples,” irrespective of their degree of advancement.[1]
