METALS AND METALLURGY

METALS AND METALLURGY . Archaic, nonliterate peoples, as well as prehistoric populations, worked meteoric iron long before they learned to use the ferrous ores occurring on the earth's surface. They treated certain ores like stones, that is, they regarded them as raw material for the manufacture of lithic tools. A similar technique was applied until recently by certain peoples having no knowledge of metallurgy: they worked meteorites with silex (flint) hammers and fashioned objects whose shapes resembled their stone models in all respects. This was how the Greenland Inuit (Eskimo) made their knives out of meteoric iron (Andrée, 1984, pp. 121ff.). When Cortés asked the Aztec chieftains where they had gotten their knives, they pointed to the sky. Like the Maya of Yucatan and the Inca of Peru, the Aztec used only meteoric iron, which they valued more highly than gold. In fact, excavations have revealed no trace of terrestrial iron in the prehistoric deposits of the New World (Forbes, 1950, pp. 401ff.).

Paleo-Oriental peoples presumably held similar ideas. The Sumerian word an-bar, the earliest vocable designating iron, is written with the signs for "sky" and "fire." Campbell Thompson renders it "celestial lightning (or meteorite)," but it is usually translated "celestial metal" or "star-metal" (Eliade, 1978, p. 22; Bjorkman, 1973, pp. 114ff.). For a long period the Egyptians too knew only meteoric iron, and the same is true of the Hittites: a text of the fourteenth century bce states that the Hittite kings used "the black iron of the sky" (Rickard, 1932, vol. 1, p. 149). Iron, therefore, was scarce, and its use was principally ritual.

The Discovery of Smelting

It required the discovery of the smelting of ores to inaugurate a new stage in the history of mankind. Unlike the production of copper or bronze, the metallurgy of iron very soon became industrial. Once the secret of smelting magnetite and hematite was discovered, there was no longer any difficulty in obtaining large quantities of iron, for deposits were very rich and easy to exploit. But the handling of telluric ores differed from that of meteoric iron, as it did also from the smelting of copper and bronze. It was not until after the discovery of furnaces, and particularly after perfecting the technique for "hardening" metal brought to the point of white heat, that iron achieved its preeminent position. It was the metallurgy of terrestrial iron that made this metal fit for everyday use. The beginnings of iron metallurgy on an industrial scale can be fixed at a period between 1200 and 1000 bce, in the mountains of Armenia. From there the secret of smelting spread across the Near East, the Mediterranean, and central Europe, although, as I have noted, iron, whether of meteoric origin or from superficial deposits, was known in the third millennium in Mesopotamia, in Asia Minor, and probably also in Egypt (Forbes, 1950, p. 417; Eliade, 1978, pp. 23ff., 201ff.).

Mines: The Womb of Mother Earth

The discovery of furnaces had important religious consequences. Besides the celestial sacredness of the sky, immanent in meteorites, there was now the telluric sacredness of the earth, in which mines and ore share. Metals "grow" in the bosom of the earth. Caves and mines are assimilated to the womb of Mother Earth. The ores extracted from mines are in some sense "embryos." They grow slowly, as if obeying a temporal rhythm different from that of vegetable and animal organisms; nevertheless, they do grow, they "ripen" in the telluric darkness. Hence, their extraction from Mother Earth is an operation performed prematurely. If they had been given the time to develop (that is, if they were to come to term in geological time), ores would become ripe, "perfect" metals. Belief in the natural growth, and thus in the metamorphosis, of metals is of very ancient origin in China and is also found in Vietnamese Annam, in India, and in the Malay archipelago. The peasants of Vietnamese Tonkin, for example, have a saying: "Black bronze is the mother of gold." They believe that gold is engendered naturally by bronze, but only if the bronze has lain a sufficiently long period in the bosom of the earth. "Thus the Annamites are convinced that the gold found in the mines is formed slowly in situ over the centuries and that if one had probed the earth originally, one would have discovered bronze in the places where gold is found today" (Przyluski, 1914, p. 3). Similar beliefs survived even into eighteenth-century Europe (Eliade, 1978, pp. 46ff.).

The Egyptians, who, according to Plutarch and Diodorus, hated iron—which they called "the bones of Seth"—considered that the flesh of gods was made of gold; in other words, that the gods were immortal. That is why, after the model of the gods, Pharaoh was also assigned flesh of gold. Indeed, as repeatedly proclaimed in the Hindu Brahmanas, "Gold is immortality." Consequently, in many cultures, to obtain the elixir that transmutes metals into alchemical gold is tantamount to obtaining immortality.

In Eastern as in Western alchemy, the transmutation of metals into gold is equated with a miraculously rapid maturation. The elixir (or the philosopher's stone) completes and consummates the work of nature. One of the characters in Ben Jonson's play The Alchemist (1610) asserts that "lead and other metals … would be gold if they had time," and another character adds, "And that our Art doth further." That is to say, the alchemist prolongs the dream and the ideology of miners and metalworkers: to perfect nature by accelerating the temporal rhythm, with the difference that the aurum alchemicum —the elixir—confers health, perennial youth, and even immortality. As is well known, by the end of the eighteenth century alchemy was supplanted by the new science of chemistry. But the alchemist's ideals survived, camouflaged and radically secularized, in nineteenth-century ideology.

In many parts of the world miners practice rites involving a state of purity, fasting, meditation, prayers, and cultic acts. The rites are governed by the nature of the intended operation, for the performance of them is meant to introduce the worker into a sacred zone, supposedly inviolable: he enters into contact with a sacrality that does not participate in the familiar religious universe, for it is a deeper and also a more dangerous sacrality. The miner feels that he risks entering a domain that does not rightfully belong to man: the underground world with its mysteries concerning the slow mineralogical gestation taking place in the womb of Mother Earth. All the mythologies of mines and mountains, their countless fairies, genii, elves, phantoms, and spirits, are the multiple epiphanies of the sacred presence that the individual confronts when he penetrates the geological levels of life (Eliade, 1978, pp. 53ff.).

Thus, the Melanesians opened a new mine only after long rituals and ceremonials. The Malay pawang (medicine man) derived a very fair revenue from propitiating and scaring those spirits who had to do with mines and mining (W. W. Skeat, quoted in Eliade, 1938, p. 92). Among many African peoples, the chief, surrounded by a shaman and the workers, recites a special prayer to his ancestral spirits, who preside over the mine, and only then does he determine where the digging shall be done (Cline, 1937, p. 119). In Europe, until the end of the Middle Ages, miners opened a mine only after the celebration of a religious ceremony (Sébillot, 1894, p. 421).

Furnaces and the "Growth" of the Ore

Laden with this dark sacrality, the ores are taken from the mine to the furnaces. Then begins the most difficult and riskiest operation. The artisan takes the place of Mother Earth in order to hasten and perfect the "growth" of the ores. The furnaces are in some sense a new, artificial womb in which the ore completes its gestation. Hence the countless precautions, taboos, and rituals that accompany smelting.

In Africa, camps are set up in the vicinity of the mines, and there the workers live, in a state of purity, throughout the mining season, which sometimes lasts for several months (Cline, 1937, p. 119). The Kitara believe that if the bellows-maker has had sexual relations during the course of his work, the bellows will constantly fill up with water and refuse to function (ibid., p. 121). The belief that the sexual act can in some way compromise the success of the work is general throughout sub-Saharan Africa. This prohibition is even stated in the ritual songs sung during the work. Indeed, smelting represents a sacred marriage—the mixture of "male" and "female" ores—and consequently all the sexual energies of the workmen must be kept in reserve, to ensure the magical success of the union that is taking place in the furnaces. The nuptial symbolism is present in many metallurgical ceremonies. The Kitara smith treats the anvil like a bride. When men bring it into the house they sing as though for a nuptial procession. In accepting it, the smith sprinkles it with water so that it "may bear many children" and tells his wife that he has brought a second wife home to help her (ibid., p. 118).

The Magico-Religious Powers of the Smith

The metallurgist, like the blacksmith and before him the potter, is a "master of fire." It is by means of fire that he brings about the passage of a material from one state to another. Smelting proves to be not only the means of "acting faster" but also of acting to make a different thing from what already existed in nature. This is why, in archaic societies, smelters and smiths are held to be masters of fire, along with shamans, medicine men, and magicians. But the ambivalent character of metal—laden with powers at once sacred and demonic—is transferred to metallurgists and smiths: they are highly esteemed but are also feared, segregated, or even scorned. Thus, in West Africa, smiths play important roles in secret societies, enjoy the prestige normally accorded magicians, and form separate clans. In the Kongo and surrounding regions, they have a close association with priests and chiefs (and sometimes are one and the same); elsewhere (e.g., among the Chagga, Hamitic Bantu-speaking agricultural workers) the smith is both feared and respected. By contrast, in pastoral Hamitic cultures and among steppe hunters, smiths are despised and form a caste set apart (Eliade, 1978, pp. 90ff.; see also Dieterlen, 1965, pp. 10ff.). In Indonesia and elsewhere in South Asia, the smith and the smelter are much respected for their secret powers (O'Connor, 1975, pp. 177ff.).

The tools of the African smith share this sacred quality. The hammer, the bellows, and the anvil are considered animate and miraculous; they are regarded as capable of operating by their own magico-religious force, unassisted by the smith. The art of creating tools is essentially superhuman—either divine or demonic (for the smith also forges murderous weapons). Remnants of ancient mythologies belonging to the Stone Age have probably been added to, or woven into, the mythology of metals. The stone tool and the hand ax were charged with a mysterious power; they struck, inflicted injury, caused explosions, and produced sparks, as did the thunderbolt. The ambivalent magic of stone weapons, both lethal and beneficial, like the thunderbolt itself, was transmitted and magnified in the new instruments forged of metal. The hammer, successor to the ax of the Stone Age, becomes the emblem of the powerful storm gods. Indeed, storm gods and the gods of agricultural fecundity are sometimes conceived as smith-gods (for examples, see Eliade, 1978, pp. 92ff.; Dieterlen, 1965, passim).

In many mythologies divine smiths forge the weapons of the gods, thus insuring them victory over dragons or other monstrous beings. In the Canaanite myth, Koshar-wa-Hasis (literally, "adroit-and-clever") forges for Baal two clubs with which he will kill Yamm, lord of the seas and underground waters. In the Egyptian version of the myth, Ptah (the potter god) forges the weapons that enable Horus to conquor Seth. Similarly, in the Vedas, the divine smith Tvaṣṭṛ makes Indra's weapons for his battle with Vṛtra; Hephaistos forges the thunderbolt that will enable Zeus to triumph over Typhon. But the cooperation between the divine smith and the gods is not confined to his help in the final combat for sovereignty of the world.

The smith is also the architect and artisan of the gods, supervises the construction of Baal's palace, and equips the sanctuaries of the other divinities. In addition, this god-smith has connections with music and song, just as in a number of societies the smiths and braziers are also musicians, poets, healers, and magicians. Thus, the mythic African smith is a culture hero. He has been enjoined by God to complete creation, to organize the world, to educate men, that is, to reveal to them the arts and the religious mysteries. For this reason, in many African cultures, smiths play the central role in puberty initiations and in male secret societies. Similarly, in early Greece, certain groups of mythical personages—Telchines, Cabiri, Curetes, Dactyls—were both secret guild associations performing initiations of young boys and corporations of metalworkers (Eliade, 1978, pp. 101ff.). Blacksmiths were equally important in the initiatory rituals of the ancient Germans and in the Japanese male societies. In old Scandinavia there was a close connection between the profession of the smith and the art of the poet and musician. The same associations are to be found among the Turco-Tatars and Mongols, where the smith is linked with horses, singers, and poets. Tzigane nomads are, even today, a combination of smith, tinker, musician, healer, and fortune-teller (ibid., pp. 98ff.). It seems, then, that on many different levels of culture (an indication of great antiquity) there is an intimate connection between the art of the smith, occult techniques (shamanism, magic, healing, etc.), and the arts of song, of the dance, and of poetry.

All these ideas and beliefs articulated around the trades of miners, metallurgists, and smiths have markedly enriched the mythology of homo faber inherited from the Stone Age. But the wish to collaborate in the perfecting of matter also had other important consequences. In assuming the responsibility for changing nature, man took the place of time; what would have required eons to ripen in the subterranean depths, as the artisan believed, he could obtain in a few weeks, for the furnace replaced the telluric womb. Millennia later, the alchemist did not think differently.

See Also

Alchemy, overview article; Blades; Elixir; Gold and Silver.

Bibliography

Aitchison, Leslie. A History of Metals. 2 vols. London, 1960. A classic work.

Andrée, Richard. Die Metalle bei den Naturvölkern mit Berück-sichtigung prähistorischer Verhältnisse. Leipzig, 1884. Outdated but still useful.

Bjorkman, Judith Kingston. Meteors and Meteorites in the Ancient Near East. Center for Meteorite Studies, Publication no. 12. Tempe, Ariz., 1973.

Cline, Walter. Mining and Metallurgy in Negro Africa. Menasha, Wis., 1937. Indispensable; should be completed and corrected by the most recent publications of French Africanists.

Dieterlen, Germaine. "Contribution à l'étude des forgerons en Afrique occidentale." In Annuaire, 1965–1966, École Pratique des Hautes Études, cinquième section, Sciences religieuses, vol. 73, pp. 3–28. Paris, 1966. An important study.

Eliade, Mircea. "Metallurgy, Magic and Alchemy." Zalmoxis: Revue des études religieuses 1 (1938): 197–203.

Eliade, Mircea. The Forge and the Crucible. 2d ed. Chicago, 1978. Originally published under the title Forgerons et alchimistes (Paris, 1956).

Forbes, R. J. Metallurgy in Antiquity. Leiden, 1950. A valuable synthesis with an excellent bibliography.

Lechtman, Heather. "Andean Value Systems and the Development of Prehistoric Metallurgy." Technology and Culture 25 (January 1984): 1–36. Important.

O'Connor, Stanley J. "Iron Working as Spiritual Inquiry in the Indonesian Archipelago." History of Religions 14 (1975): 173–190.

Przyluski, Jean. "L'or, son origine et ses pouvoirs magiques." Bulletin de l'École Française d'Extreme Orient 14 (1914): 1–16.

Rickard, T. A. Man and Metals: A History of Mining in Relation to the Development of Civilizations. 2 vols. New York, 1932.

Sébillot, Paul. Les travaux publics et les mines dans les traditions et les superstitions de tous les pays. Paris, 1894. Old but still useful.

Singer, Charles, Eric J. Holmyard, and A. R. Hall. A History of Technology, vol. 1, From Early Times to the Fall of Ancient Empires. Oxford, 1954. Indispensable.

Mircea Eliade (1987)