The Scientific Method of Studying Decorative Art
There are two ways in which art may be studied—the æsthetic and the scientific.
The former deals with all manifestations of art from a purely subjective point of view, and classifies objects according to certain so-called “canons of art.” These may be the generally recognised rules of the country or race to which the critic belongs, and may even have the sanction of antiquity, or they may be due to the idiosyncrasy of the would-be mentor.
In criticising the art of another country it must be remembered that racial tendencies may give such a bias as to render it very difficult to treat foreign art sympathetically. Western Europe and Japan are cases in point. Dogmatism in æsthetics is absurd, for, after all, the æsthetic sense is largely based upon personal likes and dislikes, and it is difficult to see what sure ground there can be which would be common to the majority of people.
The æsthetic study of art may very well be left to professional art critics.
We will now turn to a more promising field of inquiry, and see what can be gained from a scientific treatment of art. This naturally falls into two categories, the physical and the biological.
I am not aware that much has been done towards establishing a physical basis for art. The pleasurable sensations which line, form, and colour may give rise to are doubtless analogous to those caused by musical sounds, but with this difference, that the latter are caused by the orderly sequence of particular vibrations, whereas the vibrations of the former are synchronous. It is possible that not only must the character of these vibrations be taken into account, but that the structure of the human eye and personal equation must be allowed for in an analysis of the pleasurable sensations caused by any work of art. These remarks necessarily refer only to the forms of things; their meaning and the sensations thereby evoked belong to the domain of psychology.
I. Application of Biological Deductions to Designs
At present, however, we are only concerned with the biological treatment of art. Nor need surprise be felt if an attempt is made to deal with art as a branch of biology. For is not art necessarily associated with intelligence? Is not intelligence a function of the brain? And is not the brain composed of some form of protoplasm? Art is thus one only of the myriad results of the activity of protoplasm. If this be true, art must be subject to the same general laws which act on all living beings.
The fundamental law in biology is that expressed in the well-known aphorism, Omne vivum e vivo (“All life from life”). The belief in abiogenesis or spontaneous generation, as now taking place, has completely disappeared from biological teaching.
In studying savage art we are irresistibly forced to an analogous conclusion. By carefully studying a number of designs we find, providing the series is sufficiently extensive, that a complex, or even an apparently simple pattern, is the result of a long series of variations from a quite dissimilar original. The latter may in very many cases be proved to be a direct copy or representation of a natural or artificial object. From this it is clear that a large number of patterns can be shown to be natural developments from a realistic representation of an actual object, and not to be a mental creation on the part of the artist.
There are certain styles of ornamentation which, at all events in particular cases, may very well be original, taking that word in its ordinary sense, such, for example, as zigzag lines, cross-hatching, and so forth. The mere toying with any implement which could make a mark on any surface might suggest the simplest ornamentation to the most savage mind. This may or may not have been the case, and it is entirely beyond proof either way, and therefore we must not press our analogy too far. It is, however, surprising, and it is certainly very significant, that the origin of so many designs can now be determined, although they are of unknown age.
It is therefore not too much to say that savages do not deliberately invent patterns or designs; in other words, artistic expression is the result of a pre-existing visual impression.
Great difficulty presents itself when we apply this statement to communities of a higher culture; but there is no reason for believing that the case is different for barbaric races from what it is among the more savage.
It is when we come to highly civilised people that the problem becomes well-nigh insoluble. People often designedly “invent” patterns, and imagine that such designs are truly original. It is impossible to prove whether or no the artist has ever seen either a similar pattern, or at all events the elements of which his design is composed. It is very difficult to conceive that the latter is not the case. All that we can do is to fall back on the simple conditions, and we have already seen what obtains there.
This argument is strengthened by the fact that those who wish to “invent” new designs so often have recourse to objective assistance. The students in our schools of art are instructed to study natural forms, especially plants. Not only have they to manipulate the plant as a whole, but the flower has to be dissected, and even such details as the cross-section of the seed capsule are taken into account. Intelligent selection and rejection and judicious grouping may give rise to an infinitude of designs and patterns.
More mechanical aids are often pressed into service, and the compasses and other drawing instruments are employed, perhaps as often on the chance of a pleasing combination resulting or being suggested, as to elaborate some definite idea. The well-known Japanese pattern books afford a good foreign example of this method.
Instructors have not overlooked such optical aids as the kaleidoscope or analogous apparatus for pattern-making.
Once a design is started, be it the simplest of geometrical forms or a representation of a definite object, its subsequent fate is subject to vicissitudes very similar to those which beset the existence of any organism.
Organisms have offspring which at the same time resemble and differ from their parents.
This is the commonest experience one meets with in studies in ornament; certain simple patterns, on account of their simplicity, may be indefinitely repeated, and that without appreciable variation. Like simple chemical compounds, they are stable because there are few combining elements, and these are well linked together.
On the other hand, the more complex the original idea the greater opportunity there is for variation, in fact variation is inevitable. Just as in the highly unstable molecules which build up protoplasm, there is practically no alternative except for metabolism to take place.
In no case have we a series of designs which are known to be, so to speak, genetically related. We cannot say that this was a copy of that, and that of some other known form, and so on. Neither have we in Palæontology. A student of the latter science brings together as many specimens as he can from different geological horizons, and finding that the forms of a more recent deposit resemble with but slight differences those from an earlier formation, he not unreasonably concludes that the former were descended from the latter, and that the differences in the species are to be accounted for by the fixing and isolating of variations such as are commonly to be met with in members of one family.
The biologist, recognising the great importance of the theory of evolution, now rears generation after generation of animals to see how far actual experience will bear out theoretical deductions, and by this means definite facts are being accumulated. The credit of first applying this principle to art is due to General Pitt-Rivers. He gave a certain drawing to some one (A) to copy; his rendering was sent on to another person (B) to copy, this copy was handed on to a third individual (C), and so on, each copyist having only the preceding person’s performance before him. In each case fresh variations occur according to the greater or less imitative skill of the artist. The General has collected some very curious examples of series of this kind.
Mr. H. Balfour,200 following this suggestion, describes how he started a similar experiment. He says, “An original drawing of my own, representing a snail crawling over a twig, was given out to different people to be copied as I have described. In a series of twelve to fifteen copies thus obtained, the snail’s shell gradually leaves the snail and becomes a kind of boss upon the twig, and finally the design is turned upside down; the artists at this stage being convinced that the sketch is intended to represent a bird, the ‘horns’ of the snail having become the forked tail of the bird. It is seen that the extremes of the series are absolutely unlike each other, but in no case are any two adjacent sketches very dissimilar.”
Unfortunately, in the examples given in the earlier pages of this book, as in those presented by other writers, we are not in a position to definitely affirm that one particular design is genetically related to another one. We have the same difficulty in palæontology; but the impossibility of absolute proof does not weaken the strong presumptive evidence in its favour.
We are also brought face to face with another interesting zoological parallel, and that is the co-existence of primitive, intermediate, and late types. It is not always easy to suggest explanations in zoology why some forms should persist and others disappear, but these difficulties are no argument against evolution having occurred. Amongst savage peoples we often find a surprising number of intermediate stages, but one explanation is ready to hand. The original is usually always before them, and all stages in the evolution of a design are decorative; they are all “fit” enough to survive, and the majority of them may persist for an indefinite time. In the animal world small changes in the environment may produce far-reaching effects on organisms, and the persistence, not the change of type, is the greatest marvel.
In zoology it appears that the more complex animals, or perhaps rather the more complex members of a group, vary more than the simpler. It would be interesting to work out whether the same occurs in patterns. I am inclined to think that this will be found to be very generally the case. Increased variation occurs because there is more material to vary. The next step is to determine what directions the variations take.
Development may take place (1) with a general tendency towards complexity, or (2) towards simplification, or (3) these two may be coincident. That is, there may be (1) an upward or specialising evolution, or (2) degeneration, or (3) selection, which implies partial elimination and a specialisation of the selected details.
(1) Not many examples present themselves of the evolution of a particular motive as a whole; as usually one portion of it diminishes and another increases. What may be termed symmetrical evolution must necessarily be of rare occurrence. An example will be found in the progressive development of a fish-hook into an ornament in Torres Straits (p. 76, Fig. 44).
Occasionally one meets with examples of a considerable amount of partial complexity without a degradation of the remainder.
(2) The simplification of original types is of extremely common occurrence in decorative art. This has often impressed itself on those who have interested themselves in handicrafts of savages. In addition to the numerous examples I have brought together in this book I need only refer to the pioneer observations of Sir John Evans in 1849 in his well-known study201 of the degeneration which occurred in the Gaulish and British copying of the gold stater of Philip II. of Macedon. Later,202 he says, “those varieties appear to have become more or less persistent, which, in the ‘struggle for existence,’ have presented advantages over the present form in their relation to external conditions. But in the succession of types of these British coins, the requirements which new types had to fulfil in order to become to a certain extent persistent, were, firstly, to present facility of imitation, and secondly, symmetry of form. The natural instincts of uncivilised man seem to lead to the adoption of simple yet symmetrical forms of ornament, while in all stages of culture the saving of trouble is an object of universal desire.203 The reduction of a complicated and artistic design into a symmetrical figure of easy execution was the object of each successive engraver of the dies of these coins, though probably they were themselves unaware of any undue saving of trouble on their part, or the results which ensued from it.”
While degeneration is of so frequent occurrence in the history of decorative art, one must not assume that this must invariably be the case; every series must be judged independently. One commonly finds that the earlier representations of glyptic art were crude and highly conventional, but they became more life-like as the artists gained more command over their material, and perhaps at the same time the fabricators or the purchasers were gradually educated to prefer greater truth to nature.
(3) The third alternative is by far the most frequent. Typical examples are to be met with in the rich field of the decorative art of the Papuan Gulf. Fig. 13, p. 36, will serve as an example: here each star-like figure is the remains of two human faces; the eye-spot is the amalgamation of the two pairs of eyes, the lateral angled lines represent the cheek-folds, and the curved lines next to these are the lower eye-lashes of each face, and nothing more of the faces persists.
It would be absurd to endeavour to make the evolution of decorative art run on all fours with that of animals, as there are certain art forms which have no parallel in zoology. In patterns, for example, the two essential elements are symmetry and repetition; the latter implicates not only the whole design but portions of it as well. Thus, if in an early stage of a realistic design there is a blank area, the vacancy will usually be filled up by repetitions of that detail of the whole design which is nearest to it. For example, the scroll pattern of the Massim district of British New Guinea originates, as we have seen, from serial repetitions of a bird’s head. In the simplest forms of this pattern there are blank triangular areas, but these are usually filled up by a series of crescentic lines (Fig. 26), which are repetitions of the curve bounding the base of each triangle. In the Elema district the designs have an increasing tendency towards angularity, so, similarly, areas unoccupied by the main design are very frequently filled up with chevrons, as in Fig. 16.
The objection to this method of treating art may be urged that the decorated objects, whatever their nature may be, are inanimate, that they are merely pieces of wood or stone, and that they are therefore not to be compared with living beings. It is perfectly obvious that ethnological objects cannot change themselves or develop themselves into anything else. On the other hand, though animals are alive they also have no voluntary power to alter themselves, nor can they develop themselves in any direction. They are almost as passive as fabricated objects.
The small amount of change which may occur in the adult existence of an animal (I purposely exclude all changes which take place during development and growth) are due to forces acting upon the animal, and to which the animal more or less responds; they are not self-induced. The zoological and ethnological specimens, in this respect, are in precisely the same case.
The direction which evolution takes, whether it makes for a more highly sensitive being or for degeneration, has reference to offspring alone and not to their parents, immediate or remote. There is no conscious and protracted effort on the part of a particular group of animals to evolve in a determinate direction, this latter is circumscribed by the environment. Thus it comes about that consciousness has no part in evolution whether of an animal or of a pattern. The offspring of an animal vary more or less from the parent just as copies of designs vary, and both are alike subject to an external selection. If this selection proceeds sufficiently long in one general direction, a distinct and non-relapsing variation is established, and so on indefinitely.
One distinction between the evolution of animals and that of patterns must not be lost sight of: in the former the survival of the fittest appears to be mainly due to an elimination of the un-fittest, whereas in the latter there is a certain amount of conscious selection.
A further argument against this view may be urged from the standpoint that however unconscious the evolution of the lower animals may be, the case is very different with man. He is conscious and self-conscious, and he can direct his own evolution. In the first place, “Can he do so?” and in the second, “Has he done so?” First let us see what has happened.
I suppose it is one of the best established teachings of history that the evolution of a nation has not been consciously directed by the individuals which compose it. A few men may have sought to guide the course of politics or to adjust its foreign policy; but their efforts are futile unless supported by the people themselves, and the luxuriousness of living of the majority, the laxity of their morals, or some other irresponsible factor, may entirely wreck individual effort. Nations as a whole have blindly worked out their own salvation or ruin in just the same way as a group of animals living in geological times may have survived to the present day or may have become extinct.
The essential conservatism of the human mind is a fact of prime importance. Savages, children, and the less intelligent of the civilised races are similar in this respect. This has long been recognised, and that “there is no new thing under the sun” is an oft-repeated, widely-recognised truism. In proportion as change is rare, so progress is slow. It is only the happy coincidence of certain combinations which acts as a stimulant to variation, but this appears to have an increasing tendency to occur. The more savage the race the more conservative it is as a rule.
Just as the tendency to variability is of necessity a steadily increasing factor in the evolution of animals, so it is in man, and proportionately more so as he is raised above the level of the brute. Increase of complexity leads to that instability which is the mother of variability.
The above-mentioned statements are merely expressions of facts known to all. It will probably be admitted that among less civilised peoples their evolution may have been undirected by themselves; but with increased complexity comes augmented mental power, and it may be urged that this may, so to speak, take the helm; but I would venture to ask, Is there much evidence in support of this view? The mind of man is subject, like his body, to the ordinary operations of the universe, his individuality is apparent rather than real, and just as one may move to and fro on the face of the earth yet at the same time the traveller and the bed-ridden person are revolving round the axis of the earth at the same rate, and are equally trundling with the globe through space, so, too, mind cannot escape from the forces which act on the body.
It is believed by some that there were periods in the history of organisms when evolution took place more rapidly than at other times; perhaps this was due to variability occurring more extensively, which again may have been partly due to changes in the environment. There is no reason to believe that variation (which is the material that makes evolution possible) occurs uniformly. There is no need to touch further upon these yet unsolved problems of Biology; at all events we find that in decorative art evolution has been spasmodic or discontinuous, that there are periods of quiescence and of activity. I have already suggested that the isolation of a people and uniformity in their existence will tend to stagnation in art, and that intercourse with other peoples, whether by trade, war or migration, serves as a stimulus to artistic expression.
To return to our more immediate subject, consciousness of purpose has extremely little to do with human evolution, nor has it much more to say to the evolution of patterns among primitive peoples.
The selection of one design instead of another, or of a particular part of a design, is a conscious act, but probably in the great majority of cases an unreasoning one. And the selection is limited to that individual object. It is inconceivable that a savage should copy or adapt a certain design because it promises to develop into a more pleasing pattern. While there is a certain amount of conscious selection, the variation as a whole of any design is an entirely unguided operation so far as the intelligence of the human units is concerned.
II. The Geographical Distribution of Animals and of Designs
No part of the study of Biology is more fascinating than that which deals with the geographical distribution of organisms, especially when treated by such a master as Alfred Russel Wallace. The geographical distribution of art is as yet uninvestigated, but with careful and capable handling we may expect it to yield results not less interesting than those of the distribution of animals. It is needless to point out that the subject is peculiarly difficult, but as John Ray said two hundred years ago concerning the study of Natural History, “much might be done did we but endeavour, and nothing is insuperable to pains and patience.”
It will not be superfluous to here indicate the general lines upon which such an inquiry may be profitably made, taking the experience of zoologists as our guide in this matter.
It is a matter of general experience that animals are not uniformly scattered over the globe. The absence of all land mammals and of snakes from New Zealand; the occurrence of the monotremes only in Australia and New Guinea; that the American opossums are the only marsupials found out of Australia and a few adjacent islands; the absence of bears in Africa and of lemurs in America, are a few of the myriad cases in point.
By tabulating the denizens of different countries, the latter can be grouped according to their animals, and in this way zoologists have formed zoological regions, which may be further subdivided into sub-regions or provinces. All such divisions are characterised (1) by their characteristic animals, (2) by their peculiar animals, and (3) by the absence of certain groups of animals. The negative character in this case being perhaps the most valuable one.
Organisms may in a rough manner be distributed into zones corresponding with climate, which may be horizontal and largely dependent upon latitude, or vertical and directly dependent upon altitude, which varies, however, according to latitude. Such a kind of distribution is much more manifest in plants than in animals.
Further, there is a phenomenon known as “discontinuous distribution,” which is one of great importance. For example, the tapirs are only found in Central America and in the Malay Archipelago, the camel group in South America and the deserts of Asia, the ostrich group in South America, Africa, Australia, New Guinea, and New Zealand. It is needless to multiply examples. The explanation is simple enough. The tapirs are representatives of old generalised ungulates of early tertiary times that formerly lived in the northern hemisphere, but which have since become exterminated in the region of their origin and abundance, and have survived at only two extreme points of their old habitat. Ancestral camels are common in the tertiary beds of North America; the one group wandered southwards, and finding competition less keen on the plateaux of South America, were enabled to develop into llamas, alpacas, and so forth. The other group was modified so as to exist in the deserts of Asia, the less specialised forms in the intermediate countries having died out. The same general argument applies to the ostrich group, and in the rhea of South America, the ostrich of Africa, the cassowary of New Guinea, the emu of Australia, the diminutive apteryx and the gigantic extinct moas of New Zealand we have outliers, so to speak, of an extremely ancient group of birds, the other members of which have become exterminated in the intermediate districts.
Then again, there may be what are termed “local types and species,” forms which differ but slightly from the characteristic or “central” type of the species, and which are restricted to special regions. For example, in an island off a mainland there are often what are termed “insular varieties,” and in an archipelago it is of frequent occurrence that each island is characterised by possessing its peculiar varieties and even peculiar species. Isolated geographical features, such as commanding and separated mountains, may have what may equally be termed “insular faunas,” or again, the various valleys of a mountain chain may have appreciable faunistic differences.
The reason for this is not far to seek. These varieties differ from others merely by being intensified by local conditions and by isolation. Variation is more widespread than is generally supposed, but granting freedom of intercourse over a wide area and a stability of environment, the extreme variations are less liable to occur, and, furthermore, it is the average organism which is the most stable. Thus a fairly constant mean level is maintained. The isolation of portion of such a uniform population introduces new factors, and the isolated individuals tend to arrive at a condition of stable equilibrium which must of necessity be different from that of the parent stem.
Colonies are probably of rare occurrence in the zoological world. By such I mean the sudden peopling of a district by an animal new to that part of the country. An example of how this may occur is illustrated by the sporadic excursion into Europe of Pallas’ sand-grouse. It will be remembered that a few years ago large numbers of this Siberian bird made their appearance in Europe. Similar inroads are on record for past years.
Supposing the conditions were favourable, the sand-grouse might very well have established itself in one or more localities, and then formed colonies in the true sense of the term. Artificial colonies are being continually formed by man: witness the rabbits in Australia and the pheasant in England.
The dispersion of animals is caused by the favouring conditions of physical features, or by the carrying power of winds and currents. The isolation of animals is also similarly caused; winds and currents may be in such a direction as to prevent migration, and the physical features may be otherwise unfavourable to dispersion.
We now have to apply these general remarks to the province of art, and to see how far similar conclusions may be drawn.
The conclusions of the synthetical zoologist who studies the problems of zoogeography, as it is sometimes called, are entirely dependent upon the tedious labours of the analytical or systematic zoologist. General conclusions are worth nothing if the data upon which they are erected are untrustworthy; hence an accurate identification of the fauna of a country is an absolutely necessary precursor to any theorising upon its affinity.
This self-evident proposition equally applies to the geographical distribution of art-forms. It is first of all necessary to determine the exact nature of any given pattern or design. I have often called attention to the danger which there is in assuming that similarity is identity, the most instructive example of this being exhibited in the fret-pattern group and the allied scroll-patterns. Instances could be multiplied were it necessary. One of the main objects of the present volume is to emphasise this fact, and to demonstrate that the signification of a design, that is, what it really is, can only be ascertained by an exhaustive study of that particular region where it occurs or from whence it has been derived. Analysis must precede synthesis. This has not yet been attempted on a large enough scale, and so it is at present impossible to deduce wide generalisations.
Art is subject to two prime factors—(1) the solidarity of the human race, and (2) ethnic idiosyncrasy. It is the extreme difficulty in distinguishing between these two factors which complicates the comparative study of customs and beliefs.
To the second of these we owe, for example, the evolution of the various forms of fret and scroll pattern, and to the first of them their world-wide retention as patterns.
It is difficult to avoid the expectation that whatever artistic provinces may be defined in the future, they will ultimately prove to be related to racial divisions.
Possibly certain stages of artistic evolution may be determined through which the artistic development of all the more cultivated people have passed. These stages, should they be established, are illustrations of the solidarity of mankind, but the precise level to which the art of particular country or district has attained, or the direction it has taken (irrespective of the stage of development), these are ethnic idiosyncrasies.
Before the geographical distribution of art can be mapped out it will be necessary to accurately define the various artistic expressions, and to discriminate between designs, which though apparently similar are fundamentally distinct. Not till then will it be possible to determine whether particular designs are world-wide in distribution on account of the essential identity of human thought, or whether they are not really different patterns which admit of being grouped into definite regions having a more or less ethnic value.
It is not sufficient to attempt a rapid solution of this problem by assuming that artistic and ethnic boundaries are coterminous. My study of Papuan art indicates that the artistic expression of a people is more delicate than the characters usually utilised by ethnologists, and that, whereas the physical anthropologist can at present barely distinguish between the natives of contiguous districts, their art at once suggests distinctions, and then a fresh appeal has to be made to the physical anthropologist for a more searching investigation.
On the other hand, there is no doubt that in some countries art is more uniform, certainly so in countries which have long been civilised.
In Australia the art appears to be very uniform, this may be chiefly due to the fact that the Australians, though subdivided into numerous tribes, are nevertheless a very homogeneous people.204 It is true that some anthropologists have sought to distinguish primitive divisions among these people; but these endeavours have not yet been thoroughly established, and no investigations have as yet been made as to whether the arts and crafts of the Australians support these conclusions. Another factor in the uniformity of Australian art arises from the fact that all the Australians are virtually on the same level of evolution. The uniformity of condition of life and environment induces uniformity in art.
This latter fact may account for the general resemblance in artistic treatment which yet more distinct peoples may exhibit who live under very similar conditions; their ethnic idiosyncrasy may be levelled by the monotony of their environment.
Lastly, uniformity may be arrived at, as in most civilised countries of to-day, by continual and rapid intercourse between peoples. It is just this condition, together with a certain amount of stability in the environment, which makes for the uniformity and fixation of species in the animal world.
I am inclined to believe in an ethnical feeling for art, but much more work will have to be done to establish this as a fact. In our detailed study of the decorative art of British New Guinea we find a sudden and very characteristic change in Papuan art when we come to the Massim district. The characteristic Papuan ornamentation by means of straight lines and angles suddenly gives way to a variety of scrolls and loops, straight lines, except as bounding a pattern, rarely occur, and angles are more rare than bowed lines are in other parts of New Guinea. The facies of the style of decoration is exactly reversed. This surely has a deeper significance than tribal distinction, and it was noticing this fact which first led me to study New Guinea art. The explanation which suggested itself to me was one which subsequent investigation has confirmed—namely, that it is one expression of the influence of a foreign race on the Papuans of the region in question. Professor E. T. Hamy has marshalled numerous facts in support of this view in an able paper (“Étude sur les Papouas de la Mer d’Entrecasteaux,” Revue d’Ethnographie, vii., 1888, pp. 503-519), to which I have already referred.
So far then as present evidence goes, we may assert that the ornamentation of the indigenes of New Guinea is essentially composed of straight lines and angles. The characteristic fretwork and carving of Netherlands New Guinea—notably that of Geelvink Bay—is clearly due to foreign influence. The same also applies, as we have just seen, to the opposite corner of New Guinea. Future research must determine the amount and geographical extension of analogous influences in these portions of New Guinea, and also extend this line of inquiry to other parts of the world.
In seeking to establish artistic provinces we must note (1) the characteristic forms and designs, (2) those that are peculiar to the district, and (3) the deficiencies.
To take examples:—(1) the white lotus (Nymphæa lotus) is as decidedly characteristic of the decorative art of Ancient Egypt as the frigate-bird is of that of the Solomon Islands or of the Massim district of British New Guinea; but these are not peculiar to these districts, as both the lotus and the frigate-bird motives extend beyond the regions named.
(2) The employment of highly conventionalised and degenerate human figures to cover comparatively large areas is, so far as I am aware, peculiar to the Hervey Group,205 as also is the device of nature-printed ferns on tapa in certain Polynesian islands.
(3) The absence of the frigate-bird as a decorative motive throughout the greater part of British New Guinea is as important a fact as its presence in a comparatively small district. The absence of scroll designs, and practically of sigmoid lines, in Torres Straits and Daudai and throughout the greater part of the Central District of British New Guinea, is as significant as their occurrence in the Massim district; or their general absence in Eastern Polynesia with their prevalence in New Zealand.
What is known as a zonal distribution in organisms only occurs in anthropology when a district is inhabited by different peoples that live concentrically to one another. Such, for example, as the Negritto populations which inhabit the centre of the Mollaccan Peninsula or the centre of some of the islands of the Malay Archipelago and are surrounded by Malay peoples; here we have a core, so to speak, of one type of decorative art surrounded by a different type.
Discontinuous distribution occurs in art as well as zoology, and the solution of each problem must be attempted from the scientific standpoint.
A good example of such a problem is to be found in the distribution of the fret and scroll patterns to which I have frequently alluded. Further study is necessary before we can say definitely whether a given fret or meander pattern has been independently evolved, or whether it has spread from elsewhere. In our study the problem is more complicated than in zoology, for a multiple origin of a given design or pattern is always possible and often probable, whereas this is not known to occur for a single species of animal. Discontinuity in distribution in ethnography may mean either that the form has a multiple origin or that it has migrated without establishing itself in the intermediate districts, or that it has disappeared from those districts.
It is evident that every pattern or set of patterns in the first instance has to be separately studied in a limited area, in order to determine whether it is of indigenous or foreign origin. No casual application of general principles will suffice, for it is possible that in certain cases a design may be apparently fairly uniformly distributed over a certain area, and on the face of it one might be tempted to regard this as a case of uniform distribution, whereas on a more minute examination it may be found that the designs are analogues and not homologues, that they have spread from different centres of origin, and thus the apparent uniformity of distribution may be essentially invalid. I suspect this is largely the case in the meander and scroll patterns.
We often find that a particular type of decoration occurs over a certain area, but within the limits of that district there are several distinct varieties. Students at home usually have a great difficulty in studying this problem owing to the very imperfect and unsatisfactory way in which objects are labelled by collectors. In my memoir on The Decorative Art of British New Guinea I have attempted to work out the local varieties both of form and decoration of the lime spatulas of the Massim district. According to the material at my disposal, it does seem that certain types are characteristic of, if not peculiar to, particular groups of islands. The more or less complete isolation of tribes or peoples, owing to geographical conditions or inter-tribal wars, is sufficient to account for local types and insular varieties, even when the people all belong to the one stock. If that stock is a mixed one, variations are much more likely to occur than if it is a pure race or a people that have become homogeneous by prolonged isolation.
Local types may, however, be due to the presence of a colony from another district. There are numerous examples of this in Melanesia, where colonies of Polynesians have arrived from more eastern island groups in Oceania, and as I have pointed out, there are Melanesian colonies in British New Guinea. To use a geological term, these are ethnological outliers.
As decorated objects must be conveyed by man, the means for their dispersal and the barriers which militate against it are the same as those which operate on human migrations; but there is one difference. Where men go we may assume that they carry their artistic efforts and proclivities with them, but decorated objects may be carried further than the actual distance covered by the manufacturer, or even than the recognised middleman or trader.
This brings us to a very important aspect of the subject, and that is the question of trade-routes. Trade-routes are culture-routes, and in order to appreciate the history of culture it is necessary to know the directions in which it flowed. Until we have a more complete knowledge of the ancient trade-routes of Europe we cannot recover the history of pre-historic Europe. The information for this is being rapidly accumulated, and for a summary of our information I would refer the reader to Mr. George Coffey’s “Origins of Pre-Historic Ornament in Ireland.”206 I would support my position with the following quotations from Count Goblet d’Alviella:—
“Whatever the similarity of form, and even of meaning, may be between two symbolic figures of different origin, it is proper, ere we assert their relationship, to show the probability, or at least the possibility, of international relations which would have served as a vehicle for transport. This point once set at rest, it remains to be seen who was the giver and who the receiver.207
“Whether we start from Japan, from Greece, from India, or even from Lybia, from Etruria, or from Gaul, we always arrive, after many halting-places, at two great centres of artistic diffusion, partially irreducible as regards one another, Egypt and Chaldæa—with this difference, that, towards the eighth century before our era, Mesopotamia took lessons from Egypt, whilst Egypt learnt little of any country.208 Not only did symbols follow the same paths as purely ornamental schemes, but they were also transmitted in the same manner, at the same periods, and in nearly the same proportion. Concerning symbols as well as artistic products, we everywhere find, by the side of aboriginal types, the deposit of a powerful current which has its more or less distant origin in the symbolism of the banks of the Euphrates, or the Nile. In a word, the two classes of importations are joined together to such a degree that in writing the history of art we write to a great extent the history of symbols, or, at least, of their migrations.”209
These quotations from Count Goblet d’Alviella enunciate the right method of studying symbols. He points out, as I have again and again insisted for patterns, that mere resemblance must not be mistaken for identity; before two similar symbols in different countries can be regarded as being the same symbol, it must be proved that there has been direct or indirect intercourse between those countries. Hence the primary importance of the study of trade routes, for these are also culture routes, and patterns and symbols are the flotsam and jetsam of the influences that flow along them.
We may then recognise several main influences which may make for the distribution of designs—(1) the swarmings of peoples; (2) the establishment of organised or adventitious colonies; (3) the inroads of armies; (4) a general drift which is so slight as to be scarcely appreciable; and (5) trade, which usually proceeds along definite routes, and it is these that armies also generally follow.
A word of caution is necessary in dealing with trade-routes. Whereas the decorated objects pass along them and are distributed far and wide, it does not always necessarily follow that the ornamentation itself is naturalised. It is probable that in many cases a certain style of decoration is associated with a particular kind of object, and it might not occur to people to transfer that decorative style to other objects, or at all events the process would doubtless be slow.
One very good reason is that the indigenous objects are already decorated, a type of ornamentation is associated with a type of object and the feeling of expectancy demands for its satisfaction that this shall continue to be the case.
Again, we know that the majority of peoples do not appreciate new designs or patterns. They know nothing about them, they have no associations with them, they take no interest in them. In other words, it may take a long time for an exotic to become naturalised.
An example of this occurs in British New Guinea. The great annual trading voyages between the Motu and the Gulf tribes have not, so far as I am aware, had the least influence on the art of the two peoples; neither in technique nor designs have I seen any object which indicated that a borrowing had taken place. I consider this a strong argument in favour of the value of art in ethnological inquiries.
III. General Remarks on the Method of Study
I have endeavoured in the foregoing pages to formulate and illustrate some of the principles underlying the evolution of decorative art. The subject is so vast that it would be impossible to deal with it adequately unless a series of memoirs could be devoted to it. Here, however, I have been more concerned with the method of study; I have not attempted to seriously investigate even a single department, and various branches of the subject have either been merely hinted at or entirely passed over.
In all studies a right method is of fundamental importance, and in an attempt to understand the meaning of decorative art, as in other matters, a slight deviation from the right method of procedure may lead one far from the truth. Nothing is easier than to be led astray by superficial resemblances, and it is impossible to be too much on one’s guard in this matter. Of this I have given some examples, but I have refrained from giving as many as I might have done, as it is not pleasant to show up the mistakes of pioneers, even if it be only for the purpose of warning others. As Professor Max Müller has said,210 “Identity of form does as little prove identity of origin in archæology as identity of sound proves identity of origin in etymology. Comparative studies are very useful, so long as they do not neglect the old rule, Divide et impera—Distinguish, and you will be master of your subject!”
There are practically but two methods of work—(1) Inquiry from the people who employ the designs, or the testimony of written evidence when the people no longer know the significance of the designs; or (2) an investigation of induction and interpretation where oral or written tradition fail.
Beyond all question the most valuable results are obtained from oral information. I need only refer the reader to the investigations of Professors Ehrenreich and Karl von den Steinen (p. 174), and of Mr. H. Vaughan Stevens (p. 236), to demonstrate that by no other method could we ever gain any idea as to what was the meaning of these particular patterns and designs. In fact, the observations of these travellers make one very sceptical of any interpretations by outsiders.
This is undoubtedly the most important and pressing work in this subject. Only those who have visited backward peoples of certain grades of culture who have come into contact with the white man, can realise how rapidly the old lore is passing away. This may or may not be advantageous, but no one will deny that it is a thousand pities that scarcely any one thinks it his duty to inquire about and to put on record all that can be gathered about those peoples which our civilisation is either modifying or destroying. Every one who can will collect “curios,” especially those which are decorated; but out of the hundreds of collectors, how many units have ever thought of asking the natives what was the significance of the ornamentation? I have already drawn attention to this need for Australia, but it is equally pressing in many other parts of the world. Even museum curators have in the past regarded ethnographical specimens more as “trophies” than as materials for the study of a history of mankind.
There are still some “collectors” (that is, purchasers of “curios”) who think that when they know where an object comes from, and, may be, what is its native name, they know pretty well all that is worth knowing about it. Others have realised that there is a history in every form and pattern.
What is wanted is an interpretation of the form, of the meaning of odd little details of contour, of indentation, or of projection. No apparently insignificant superfluity is meaningless, they are silently eloquent witnesses of a past signification like the mute letters in so many of our words. Almost every line or dot of every ornament has a meaning, but we are without understanding, and have eyes and see not.
But again, we must not stop short when we have determined what a form means, or what is the original of a device. We have to discover why it was so. The reasons for a motive, the meaning of its present form, have also to be sought. So we come to higher and finer analysis, and at last find ourselves studying psychology.
With so much to learn, it is evident that we must be sure of our premises, and hence the necessity for going to the original sources. But there is always considerable difficulty in getting at the truth, and a statement made by a native must never be accepted as evidence until it has been independently confirmed from other sources. Nothing is easier than to get unreliable information. This is not the place to enter into the various possible sources of error, but I would like to warn those who have the opportunity of getting information first hand, that it is impossible to take too much care, and all suggestive interrogation or leading questions should be totally avoided.
When we are dealing with written evidence the method is one of historical procedure. The means of information of the writer, his credibility, and other factors have to be taken into account; often, too, there is a sparsity, or even an absence of corroborative evidence, which tends to make the testimony uncertain.
Failing these direct methods of obtaining information, there remains the deductive and comparative method. The best example of this mentioned in the preceding pages is Count Goblet d’Alviella’s investigation of the fylfot; indeed his book is a model for method. In another field Dr. Stolpe’s study of the decorative art of the Hervey Islands is a memorable and instructive piece of work.
With the examples of method which are here brought together the student should be in a position to prosecute researches in the innumerable fields which lay open to him.
I would, however, like to take this opportunity to say a word or two to those who wish to commence a study of decorative art from the biological standpoint.
No amount of trouble must be grudged in collecting the data, whether it be in the form of photographs, sketches, tracings, or rubbings; right conclusions largely depend upon a wealth of suitable material.
Rubbings of carved ornament can be made with great facility on tough, thin Japanese paper by means of heel-ball (Ullathorne’s is the best, and it can be obtained from almost any working shoemaker; the paper is more difficult to obtain). The paper is firmly held on to the object, and then rubbed hard with the heel-ball; it is best to always rub the latter in one direction. Whenever possible it is desirable to make a rubbing of the whole of an object, but if only a portion is decorated the outline of the remaining portions need alone be rubbed. Next to photographs, rubbings are the most satisfactory method of obtaining copies of carved objects, as every detail and vagary is accurately reproduced, and they lend themselves very readily to reproduction in the form of “process-blocks,” but it will be found that details will often have to be supplemented by sketches. There are, of course, many carved objects of which it is impossible to make rubbings. A very little experience will soon teach the beginner as to the best methods of procedure in any special case.
Professor A. Grünwedel211 calls attention to the necessity there is for absolute accuracy when copying the ornamentation of savages. “Still more dangerous [than mistaken interpretation] is the attempted ’correct’ reproduction of aboriginal ornament according to the European, so-called, feeling for beauty, whereby somewhat crooked lines are replaced by straight ones, and unequal halves, which are deemed corresponding, are made alike. This method causes fundamental error, since through its corrections, it renders impossible a critical examination of the visual ability of wild races. The Orang-hûtan draws a curve and sees it as a straight line, he makes too many legs, too few fingers, but has, in spite of these faults, according to our conceptions, the power of seizing abbreviations of parts of the body in a picturesque manner, of skilfully interpreting contours and of preparing intelligent ground-plans. The diagrammatic copying of primitive ornamental forms can therefore have no scientific value.”
Two most important points to note are the locality whence an object comes, and the date of its manufacture and collection.
The former is essential, and it is not sufficient to obtain a vague locality like “New Guinea” or the “Solomon Islands,” but it is necessary to know the district or the particular island, and, if possible, the exact spot. Information must also be obtained whether the object was made there or merely procured there. The native name of every object must be obtained, also the name of the several parts of it as well as of the details of its ornamentation. Of course the meaning should, if possible, be ascertained, but on no account should only one explanation be accepted as correct; it is necessary to check all such information by inquiry from independent sources, as there are numerous ways in which error can creep in, even when there is no question of intentional deceit.
It is rarely possible to ascertain the date of manufacture when dealing with ordinary ethnographical specimens in museums; as most of these are quite recent no sequence in time can be made out. Even when objects are collected in the field it is rarely possible to obtain a succession of objects from a historical point of view. In all inquiries relating to historical or pre-historical objects, the time-element is as important as the place-element, and great care must be taken in order to ascertain dates and the relation of periods.
A great deal of light can often be thrown upon the meaning of ornament by a study of the manners and customs of a people; this is especially the case for their religion, using that term in its widest sense.
As long ago as 1857 Mr. Kemble212 urged that ornamentation should be taken “seriously into consideration, because it forms one of the most important and characteristic criterions by which to judge of the tendency of a race. There is some reason in every ornament why it recommended itself to some particular people. We do not know what the reason was, but the difference itself is of the deepest moment.” He points out that the spirit or feeling of art may be made the measure of culture when the workman is at liberty to impose what form and lines he will upon his material. Quite recently Professor Flinders Petrie said,213 “Art is one of the most important records of a race. Each group of mankind has its own style and favourite manner, more particularly in the decorative arts. A stray fragment of carving without date or locality can be surely fixed in its place if there is any sufficient knowledge of the art from which it springs. This study of the art of a people is one of the highest branches of anthropology, and one of the most important, owing to its persistent connection with each race. No physical characteristics have been more persistent than the style of decoration. When we see on the Celtic work of the period of La Téne, or on Irish carvings, the same forms as on mediæval ironwork, and on the flamboyant architecture of France, we realise how innate is the love of style, and how similar expressions will blossom out again from the same people. Even later we see the hideous C-curves, which are neither foliage nor geometry, to be identical on late Celtic bronze, on Louis XV. carvings, and even descending by imitation into modern furniture. Such long descent of one style through great changes of history is not only characteristic of Celtic art, but is seen equally in Italy. Further east, the long-persistent styles of Egypt, of Babylonia, of India, of China, which outlived all changes of government and history, show the same vitality of art. We must recognise, therefore, a principle of ‘racial taste,’ which belongs to each people as much as their language, which may be borrowed, like language, from one race by another, but which survives changes and long eclipses even more than language. Such a means of research deserves more systematic study than it has yet received.”
It may be asked why I have so largely confined my attention to the decorative art of savage peoples. The answer to this not unnatural question will be found in my introductory remarks.
The decorative art of civilised peoples is very complex, and the motives which prompt it are obscure; it appeared to me that our best chance of finding out the underlying principles was to study less complex conditions. I must confess that I have been mainly concerned to provide an efficient tool for the use of other workers, and I have not been anxious to elucidate the multitudinous designs and forms which beset us on every hand. This task I leave to my readers, and they need not confine themselves to decorative designs or patterns, for the forms and the adjuncts of objects are susceptible of the same treatment, and will yield analogous results.
Almost any manufactured object that may first meet the reader’s eyes has a history that is bound up with the history of man. The eyes alike of the head and of the mind require to be opened. Too often we envy the traveller who has voyaged afar: If we had had his opportunities, if we had seen what he has seen—we too might have been able to make discoveries! We pine for the unattainable and neglect our opportunities. The world is before us, and that too at our very doors.
Footnotes
1 H. Balfour, The Evolution of Decorative Art, 1893.
2 P. J. Veth, “De Mandragora,” Internat. Arch. für Ethnogr., vol. vii., 1894, p. 199 (with references to the literature).
3 Illustrated Archæologist, vol. i, 1893, p. 108.
4 The Decorative Art of British New Guinea: A Study in Papuan Ethnography, Cunningham Memoir, No. x., Royal Irish Academy, 1894.
5 I hope to publish shortly a paper in the Internationales Archiv für Ethnographie, on the designs which are incised on the skin of these natives.
6 “Holz-und Bambus-Geräthe aus Nord West Neu Guinea,” Publicationen aus dem Königlichen Ethnographiscen Museum zu Dresden, vi., 1886.
7 I have adopted the term “eye-area” to denote the eye device, which includes the eye, the eye-lashes, and often the cheek-fold of that side.
8 According to Mr. A. C. English, Government Agent for the Rigo District, among the Sinaugolo tribe, the design Fig. 21, D, is called mulavapuli, and is tattooed on both sexes as a distinction for taking life; Fig. 21, H, I, biubiu, have a similar value; the angled chest-marks (Fig. 20, A, B) are called boaroko. (Ann. Rep. British New Guinea, 1893-94, pp. 68, 69.)
9 Southward of the Papuan Gulf, and in all the islands of the south-eastern extremity of New Guinea, the natives chew the betel-nut, and when chewing transfer quick-lime from gourds (“lime-gourds”) to their mouths by means of flat carved sticks (“lime-spatulas”). These vary greatly in form and in the character of their carving. The intaglio is filled in with lime, so that the design appears white on the polished ebony handles. These objects are often called “chunam spoons,” but they are never spoon-shaped, and there is no need to introduce an Anglo-Tamil word for lime.
10 S. H. Ray and A. C. Haddon, “A Study of the Languages of Torres Straits,” Proc. Roy. Irish Acad., 1893, p. 509.
11 The Decorative Art of British New Guinea, p. 263.
12 S. H. Ray, “The Languages of British New Guinea,” Jour. Anth. Inst., xxiv., 1894, p. 32.
13 Haddon, Sollas, and Cole, “On the Geology of Torres Straits,” Trans. Royal Irish Acad., vol. xxx., 1894, p. 419.
14 Architectural Record, ii., 1893, p. 412.
15 The Academy, 30th May 1891, No. 995, p. 519; also Journal of the Cambridge Ant. Soc., vii., p. 293.
16 The Decorative Art of British New Guinea, 1894, p. 256.
17 See, for example, Plate VII., Figs. 2, 5.
18 From τὰ σκεύε, implements, utensils, tools, baggage, tackle, dresses.
19 G. Semper, Der Stil in den technischen und tektonischen Künsten oder praktische Aesthetik. Munich, 1860-63, 2 vols. (Second Edition, 1878-79.)
20 G. Perrot and C. Chipiez, A History of Art in Ancient Egypt, ii. p. 356, 1883.
21 The Western Pacific and New Guinea, 1886, p. 138.
22 Chalmers and Gill, Work and Adventure in New Guinea, 1885, p. 334.
23 H. Stolpe, “Utvecklingsföreteelser i Naturfolkens Ornamentik” (Ymer 1890), translated by Mrs. H. C. March, “Evolution in the Ornamental Art of Savage Peoples,” Trans. Rochdale Lit. and Sci. Soc., 1891.
24 “Polynesian Ornament a Mythography; or a Symbolism of Origin and Descent,” Journ. Anth. Inst., xxii., 1893, p. 307.
25 H. Colley March, “The Meaning of Ornament, or its Archæology and its Psychology,” Trans. Lanc. and Cheshire Ant. Soc., 1889.
26 Copied from J. Evans, Bronze Implements, p. 148.
27 F. Keller, The Lake Dwellings of Switzerland and other parts of Europe. Second edition, 1878, p. 565.
28 “Pagan Ireland,” The Century Magazine, xxxvii., 1889, p. 368.
29 F. Keller, The Lake Dwellings, etc, p. 565.
30 O. Montelius, “Sur les Poignées des Epées et des Poignards en Bronze,” Congr. prehist. Stockholm, 1874, ii. p. 891.
31 In Oceania pottery is unknown save in the West, and there only sporadically. It is absent in Polynesia except in the Tonga Islands, where it is doubtless due to Fiji influence. Its distribution in Melanesia is erratic; for example, it occurs in the Fiji Islands, New Caledonia, and the Loyalty Islands. Rude, unglazed dishes are made in Espiritu Santo (R. H. Codrington, The Melanesians, 1891, p. 315), but not Aurora, in Pentecost and Lepers’ Island in the New Hebrides, nor in Banks’ Islands, Torres Islands, Santa Cruz Group, and most of the Solomon Islands. While wanting in the Bismarck Archipelago, it occurs in New Guinea. But even where pottery is made it is very local and confined to certain tribes. For example, in British New Guinea (A. C. Haddon, The Decorative Art of British New Guinea, 1894, pp. 149, 222-224) it is made only in the south-east peninsula and in some of the adjacent islands. In scattered villages, or even in parts of villages, from Yule Island to Maopa in Aroma, pottery is made from clay in the lump; but in the Engineer Group, and especially in Wari (or Teste Island), the clay is laid down in a spiral, and no stone and beater are used, but it is smoothed by a Tellina shell. This method is described and figured by Dr. Finsch (O. Finsch, Samoafahrten, 1888, p. 280; Ethnological Atlas, 1888, Plate IV.). The upper border of these pots, he says, “exhibits various simple band patterns, which are scratched with fork-like bamboo instruments, and which serve not as ornamentation but as trade-marks. Thus here also (as at Bilibili) each woman has her own mark, with which she signs her fabrication.” I have elsewhere (cf. Decorative Art of British New Guinea, p. 223) printed an extract from the unpublished journal of Dr. H. O. Forbes, in which he gives an account of the method of making pottery at Wari. Fig. 23 is a copy of Dr. Forbes’ sketches of these slightly decorated vessels. In German New Guinea (Kaiser Wilhelm’s Land) pottery is made from the lump, as among the Motu of British New Guinea, at Sechstroh River (Humboldt Bay), Goose Bay (Dallmann Harbour), the island of Bilia (Eickstedt Island in Prince Henry Harbour), and more especially at the island of Bilibili in Astrolabe Bay. Dr. Finsch claims that this pottery is of better quality and better decorated than that of the south-east coast. Some of the vessels are ornamented with small bosses. But the insignificant patterns, frequently made with the finger-nail, are probably intended, as in Port Moresby, for trade-marks, and not merely for ornament. From their extremely local and scattered distribution it is evident that the pottery makers of New Guinea are not autocthones, but belong to the waves of Melanesian immigration that have washed the coast and neighbouring islands.
In speaking of New Caledonia Baron L. de Vaux (L. de Vaux, “Les Canaques de la Nouvelle-Calédonie,” Rev. d’Ethnog., ii., 1883, p. 340) says, “formerly the women of Pouébo, Oubatche, and Pam had the monopoly; now the art tends more and more to disappear as the natives find it more practical to buy trade vessels. They succeeded in making pots to the height of two feet, and very often decorated externally with lizards and frogs in relief. The base being ready, they superimpose rings of well-prepared clay the one above the other, holding them and joining them from the interior with the left hand, whilst they smooth their work externally by means of the right hand and of a little beater of smooth, hard wood.”
Mr. Atkinson (J. J. Atkinson, “Notes on Pointed Forms of Pottery among Primitive Peoples,” Journ. Anth. Inst., xxiii., 1893, p. 90) also describes the New Caledonian method of making pottery, and draws attention to the fact that the occasional traces of faint horizontal marks occasioned by the technique “imitate the marks left by pottery made on the system of plastering wickerwork employed by some people,” and therefrom he suggests a necessary warning not to take the latter method as having been of universal occurrence.
32 E. H. Man, “Nicobar Pottery,” Journ. Anth. Inst., xxiii., 1893, p. 21.
33 J. D. Hunter, Manners and Customs of several Indian Tribes located west of the Mississippi. Philadelphia, 1823, p. 296.
34 Squier and Davis, Ancient Monuments of the Mississippi Valley, 1848, p. 187.
35 W. H. Holmes, “Origin and Development of Form and Ornament in Ceramic Art,” Fourth Annual Report of the Bureau of Ethnology, 1882-83. Washington, 1886.
36 F. H. Cushing, “A Study of Pueblo Pottery as illustrative of Zuñi Culture Growth,” Fourth Annual Report of the Bureau of Ethnology, 1882-83. Washington, 1886.
37 W. H. Holmes, “Prehistoric Textile Fabrics of the United States derived from Impressions on Pottery,” Third Ann. Rep. Bureau Ethnol. Washington, 1884.
38 A very interesting collateral line of study has sprung from Mr. Holmes’ investigations of the impressions on pottery. By the simple expedient of taking impressions in clay from ancient pottery, and so throwing into high relief the rather obscure intaglio impressions in the originals, he has been able to restore a considerable number of diverse fabrics which were used for the purposes just stated. “The perfect manner in which the fabric in all its details of plaiting and weaving can be brought out is a matter of astonishment; the cloth itself could hardly make all the particulars of its construction more manifest.” The perishable material so impressed the clay that when it had long since crumbled into dust the latter was enabled to transmit the details of the structure of a fabric the very existence of which would otherwise never have been known.
39 G. Klemm, Allgemeine Cultur-Geschichte der Menschheit, vol. i. p. 188.
40 Pottery is made in Fiji, but not in Tonga.
41 D. Wilson, Prehistoric Annals of Scotland (2nd ed.), 1863, i. p. 430.
42 E. B. Tylor, Researches into the Early History of Mankind (3rd edit.), 1878, p. 273.
43 G. J. French, An Attempt, etc., 1858.
44 Charles Rau, “Indian Pottery,” Smithsonian Report, 1866, p. 346, and 1882, p. 49.
45 W. H. Holmes, “Origin and Development of Form and Ornament in Ceramic Art,” Fourth Ann. Rep. Bureau Ethnol. Washington, 1886.
46 Cf. p. 334, which is an abstract of what that author says.
47 C. Fellows, A Journal written during an Excursion in Asia Minor, 1839.
48 A remarkable example of inappropriate skeuomorphic decoration occurs among some of the tribes of Central Brazil, where the small triangular covering of the women is copied and made into patterns (Fig. 52) on various objects, some being on the bark tablets which run as a frieze round a chief’s house (pp. 97, 175).
49 φυσικός—of or concerning the order of external nature; natural, physical.
50 A Study of Pueblo Pottery, etc., 1886.
51 “A few Summer Ceremonials at the Tusayan Pueblos,” Journal of American Ethnology and Archæology, ii., 1892.
52 Maize or Indian corn.
53 Loc. cit., p. 517.
54 Annual Report Bureau of Ethnology, iv.
55 Cf. map by author in a paper “On the Geology of Torres Straits,” by Professors A. C. Haddon, W. J. Sollas, and G. A. J. Cole. Trans. Roy. Irish Acad., xxx., 1894, pp. 419-470.
56 An interesting example of reversal is found on a bamboo tobacco-pipe which I obtained on the island of Mabuiag in Torres Straits, and which I have given to the National Museum at Washington, U.S.A. On one side of the pipe was cut ᑎAЯIЯ, and on the other MÖRAP; the latter is the name for a bamboo pipe, and the former I understood was the name of the place in Daudai where the owner had cut the bamboo from which he made the pipe; possibly it was his own name. It will be observed that this name, which is really RIRAU, is printed backwards, and the final U is upside down. I suspect that the occasional reversal of words is due to the method of counting on the fingers which these people employ. They always begin with the little finger of the left hand, and pass from the thumb of the left hand to that of the right. If a man was spelling out a word letter by letter as if he were counting he might readily fall into the error of putting down the first letter in a place corresponding to the little finger of the left hand, and so on. If the man who carved the pipe began with RIRAU, that word would utilise all the digits of the left hand, and so MÖRAP would come right end foremost on the right hand.
57 F. H. Cushing, “A Study of Pueblo Pottery as illustrative of Zuñi Culture Growth,” Fourth Ann. Rep. Bureau Ethnol., 1882-83. Washington, 1886.
58 According to a legend collected by the author in Torres Straits.
59 Dr. Codrington, The Melanesians, p. 126.
60 M. Uhle, “Holz-und Bambus-Geräthe aus N.W. Neu Guinea,” K. Eth. Mus., Dresden, vi., 1886, p. 6.
61 M. D’Estrey, “Étude ethnographique sur le Lézard chez les Peuples Malais et Polynésiens,” L’Anthropologie, iii., 1892, p. 711.
62 Dr. Codrington, The Melanesians, p. 126.
63 “Holz-und Bambus-Geräthe aus Nord West Neu Guinea,” Dresden Ethnograph. Mus., 1886.
64 P. Mantegazza, “Studii antrop. ed etnogr. sulla Nuova Guinea,” Arch. per l’Antrop. e la Etnol., vii., 1877, Pl. X., No. 914.
65 W. H. Goodyear, The Grammar of the Lotus, 1891.
66 J. G. Wilkinson, The Manners and Customs of the Ancient Egyptians, ii. (3rd edition), p. 407.
67 Brugsch, Religion und Mythologie der Alten Ægypter, i. p. 103; cf. Goodyear, p. 6.
68 Brugsch, Religion, etc., i. p. 121; loc. cit., p. 6.
69 Histoire de l’Art Egyptien d’après les Monuments, 1878.
70 Maspero, Histoire ancienne des Peuples de l’Orient, p. 31, cf. Goodyear, p. 11.
71 A. J. Evans, “Primitive Pictographs and a Prae-Phœnician Script, from Crete and the Peloponnese,” Journ. Hellenic Studies, xiv., 1894, p. 328.
72 Cf. also G. Coffey, “The Origins of Prehistoric Ornament in Ireland,” Journ. Roy. Soc. Ant. Ireland, 1894, 1895.
73 G. Perrot and C. Chipiez, A History of Art in Chaldæa and Assyria, 1884, i. p. 303.
74 A. H. Layard, Discoveries in the Ruins of Nineveh and Babylon, i. p. 184, note.
75 Nineveh and its Remains, ii. p. 212, note.
76 Perrot and Chipiez, Assyria, i. p. 194.
77 Newspaper Report of a Lecture delivered at the Royal Institution in May 1894.
78 Grammar of the Lotus.
79 W. M. Flinders Petrie, A History of Egypt, i., 1894, p. 251.
80 Perrot and Chipiez, Egypt, i. p. 19.
81 G. C. M. Birdwood, The Industrial Arts of India, 1880.
82 I have a note to the following effect, the origin of which I cannot now trace:—Art under the Mahommedans in the first centuries appears to have been much encouraged, as many drawings and pictures are shown, thus upsetting the general belief that the Koran forbade the representation of human and animal figures. The picture of a rider belonging to the period of Arab civilisation is remarkably spirited, the folds of the rider’s garments, as well as the figure itself, being admirably portrayed.
83 G. C. M. Birdwood, The Industrial Arts of India, ii., 1880, p. 167.
84 G. Perrot and C. Chipiez, Art in Phœnicia and its Dependencies, 1885, ii. p. 427.
85 Iliad, xxiii. (Lang, Leaf, & Myers.)
86 The reader is also referred to Dr. E. Bonavia’s studies (The Flora of the Assyrian Monuments and its Outcomes, 1894) for another theoretical origin of these designs. He lays stress on the practice of fixing horns on trees, and other places, by the Assyrians. We not only see horns and modifications of horns symmetrically used on the stem of their sacred trees, but we meet with them as decorative terminations on the poles of the royal tents (Plate VIII., Figs. 2 and 7). “They were symbols of power against the evil eye and evil spirits” (p. 205). Sooner or later they were sure “to have been taken up by artists, and modified in various ways into decorations for walls of temples, palaces, etc. And so, in truth, we see these horns, at first probably used solely from superstitious reasons, passing afterwards into motives for various decorative purposes” (p. 141).
“What is called the honeysuckle pattern, or anthemion, is nothing but the date-tree head supported by horns.... This so-called honeysuckle pattern is not, I think, the only outcome of the superstition of tying horns on trees, for I believe the fleur-de-lys, so much used in heraldry as a royal emblem, and on many coats-of-arms, seems but a modified imitation of the real horns tied on trees or posts” (p. 142). Dr. Bonavia discusses the history of the latter motive. It appears probable that it was introduced to French heraldry by Louis VII. on his return from the Crusades, and it is also likely that the device was independently associated with the lily and the iris in various countries after its real origin had been forgotten. (This applies equally to Goodyear’s or to Bonavia’s theory.)
“The top of the Assyrian sacred date-tree, with its supporting horns, was probably taken up by the Greeks and modified into ornaments for friezes.” In support of this proposition Dr. Bonavia illustrates an anthemion from the Erechtheium (Fig. 82).
“There are numerous architectural and decorative designs which, I think, are traceable to the Assyrian date-tree and its horns. The Prince of Wales’ feathers are perhaps also a descendant of the same motive. There are in it three elements held together by means of a crown, which may be a modification of the ligature” (p. 154). The trident and the caduceus are also supposed by this author to be “luck-horns” attached to a wand.
It must be remembered that the ligatures are usually very distinct in Assyrian anthemia (Plate VIII., Figs. 9 and 10), and they require an explanation as much as any other detail of the design. Dr. Bonavia regards them as the lashings of luck-horns which have become modified into volutes. Dr. Colley March, as we have seen, attributes them to a textile origin. On the other hand, we find ligatures in Egyptian lotus designs, as in Fig. 77, where there is no suspicion of Assyrian influence; future research will doubtless show whether the central ligatures in Figs. 85 and 89 A are Assyrian, Egyptian, or local in origin.
87 G. Semper, Der Stil in den technischen und tektonischen Künsten (2nd ed.), 1878.
88 J. T. Clarke, “A Proto-Ionic Capital from the Site of Neandreia,” American Jour. of Archæol., 1886, ii. p. 1.
89 W. M. Flinders Petrie, Naukratis, i., 1884-85; Egyptian Exploration Fund, 1886, Plate VII., Figs. 1, 6.
90 W. H. Goodyear, “Origin of the Acanthus motive and Egg-and-Dart Moulding,” The Architectural Record, iv., 1894, p. 88.
91 W. H. Goodyear, “Are Conventional Patterns Spontaneously Generated,” The Architectural Record, ii., 1893, p. 291.
92 Prof. Goodyear acknowledges (Grammar of Lotus) that P. E. Newberry had independently arrived at a similar conclusion in 1885, and that Owen Jones in 1856 and Léon de Vesley in 1870 had suggested a lotus original for the egg-and-dart pattern.
93 F. E. Hulme, The Birth and Development of Ornament, 1893, p. 86.
94 O. Schellong, “Notizen über das Zeichnen der Melanesier,” Internat. Arch. für Ethnogr., viii., 1895, p. 57. (Plates VIII., IX.) A. C. Haddon, The Decorative Art of British New Guinea.
95 Isaac Taylor, The Origin of the Aryans, p. 158.
96 M. Uhle, “Holz-und Bambus-Geräthe aus N.W. Neu Guinea,” K. Eth. Mus., Dresden, vi., 1886, p. 6.
97 W. H. Holmes, “Ancient Art of the Province of Chiriqui, Colombia,” Sixth Annual Report of the Bureau of Ethnology, 1884-85. Washington, 1888.
98 “Mittheilungen über die zweite Xingu-Expedition in Brasilien,” Zeitschrift für Ethnologie, xxii., 1890, p. 89.
99 “Beiträge zur Völkerkunde Brasiliens,” Veröffentlichungen aus dem königlichen Museum für Völkerkunde, Berlin, ii., 1891, pp. 24, 25.
100 Unter den Naturvölkern Zentral-Brasiliens: Reiseschilderung und Ergebnisse der Zweiten Schingú-Expedition, 1887-88. Berlin, 1894.
101 Loc. cit., p. 269.
102 Origins of Pictish Symbolism, 1893.
103 Pp. 49-56, and at greater length in my Memoir on the Decorative Art of British New Guinea.
104 H. Stolpe, Evolution in the Ornamental Art of Savage Peoples. Figs. 3, 34.
105 C. H. Read, “On the Origin and Sacred Character of certain Ornaments of the S.E. Pacific,” Journ. Anth. Inst., xxi., 1891, Plate XII.
106 H. N. Moseley, Notes by a Naturalist on the “Challenger,” 1879, pp. 504-511.
107 J. G. Wood, The Natural History of Man, ii., 1870, p. 161.
108 S. Tsuboi, “On the Degeneration of Tongue-thrusting Figures in New Zealand Carvings,” Tōyō Gakugei Zasshi (Oriental Scientific Magazine), No. 112, Jan. 25th, 1891.
109 Oriental Scientific Magazine, Nov. 25th, 1889.
110 Squier and Davis, Ancient Monuments of the Mississippi Valley, 1848, p. 195.
111 W. H. Holmes, “Pottery of the Ancient Pueblos,” Fourth Annual Report Bureau of Ethnology, p. 271.
112 Origins of Pictish Symbolism, 1893.
113 G. Stephens, Studies on Northern Mythology, 1883, p. 167.
114 For a more detailed treatment the reader is referred to Dr. H. Colley March’s essay on “The Pagan-Christian Overlap in the North,” Trans. Lanc. and Cheshire Antiquarian Soc., ix., 1892.
115 Garrick Mallery, “On the Pictographs of the North American Indians,” Fourth Annual Report of the Bureau of Ethnology, 1882-83 (1886). See also Tenth Ann. Rep., 1888-89 (1893).
116 Originally published by Dr. W. J. Hoffman, Trans. Anthrop. Soc., Washington, ii., 1883, p. 134.
117 Garrick Mallery, “Sign Language among North American Indians,” First Annual Report of the Bureau of Ethnology, 1879-80 (1881).
118 Mallery, “Sign Language,” etc., 1881, p. 389.
119 J. Newton, Athenæum, No. 3385, September 10, 1892, p. 353; and for further details cf. Manx Note-Book, January 1886.
120 Sir George Birdwood, Introduction to Count Goblet d’Alviella’s The Migration of Symbols.
121 Isaac Taylor, The Alphabet, an Account of the Origin and Development of Letters, 1883.
122 Newspaper Report.
123 H. Balfour, The Evolution of Decorative Art, 1893, p. 73.
124 E. B. Taylor, Primitive Culture (2nd ed.), 1873, p. 463.
125 Loc. cit., p. 464.
126 A. C. Haddon, “The Ethnography of the Western Tribe of Torres Straits,” Jour. Anth. Inst., xix., 1890.
127 Voyage of the “Rattlesnake,” 1852.
128 Annual Report of British New Guinea, C.A. 1, 1892. p. 66.
129 Further Correspondence respecting New Guinea, 1890, C. 5883, p. 251.
130 W. Ridgeway, The Origin of Metallic Currency and Weight Standards, 1892.
131 Loc. cit., p. 23.
132 Loc. cit., p. 22.
133 Loc. cit., p. 45.
134 Loc. cit., p. 40.
135 J. Silvestre, “Notes pour servir à la recherche et au classement des monnaies et des médailles de Annam et de la Cochin-Chine Française,” Excursions et Reconnaissances, No. 15 (1883), p. 395.
136 W. S. Ament, “The Ancient Coinage of China,” American Journ. Archæol., iv., 1888, p. 284, Pls. XII., XIII.
137 H. C. Millies, Recherches sur les Monnaies des Indigènes de l’Archipel Indien et de la Péninsule Malaie, 1871.
138 W. Ridgeway, The Origin of Metallic Currency and Weight Standards, 1892, p. 27.
139 “Ten double-headed axes he set and ten single,” in the translation by E. Meyers. The Iliad of Homer, xxiii. 850 (Macmillan & Co.), 1883.
140 Prof. D’Arcy W. Thompson, jun., has published a paper (“On Bird and Beast in Ancient Symbolism,” Trans. Roy. Soc. Edinb., xxxviii. pt.i., 1895, p. 179), in which he combats Prof. Ridgeway’s theory, as being foreign to all we know of ancient symbolism. “We must see fallacy in any theory which treats as nascent and primitive the civilisation of a period of exalted poetry, the offspring of ages of antecedent culture; which sees but a small advance on recent barbarism in ways of life simple in some respects, but rich in developed art and stored with refined tradition; that looks only for the ways and habits and thoughts of primitive man in races supported by a background of philosophical and scientific culture of an unfathomed, and may be unfathomable, antiquity. Behind early Hellenic civilisation was all the wisdom of Egypt and the East, and the first Greeks of whom we have knowledge looked upon the old Heaven and the old Earth not with the half-open, wondering eyes of wakening intelligence, but with perceptions trained in an ancient inheritance of accumulated learning. “I print this extract, as I consider that D’Arcy Thompson’s reminder is needed in the present search after origins. With regard to the point at issue, it appears to me that both may be right. Some of the representations on Greek coins may have the significance which Ridgeway ascribes to them, while others may bear the interpretation given by D’Arcy Thompson, whose theory I shall refer to later.
141 J. G. Frazer, The Golden Bough: A Study in Comparative Religion, 1890, p. 9.
142 “Die Zaubermuster der Orang Sĕmang,” Zeitschr. für Ethnologie, xxv., 1893, p. 71; “Die Zaubermuster der Orang hûtan,” loc. cit., xxvi., 1894, p. 141.
143 Probably a mud-tortoise.
144 The Architectural Record, iii., 1893, p. 139.
145 Page 145.
146 H. Colley March, “Magic Knots,” Trans. Rochdale Lit. and Sci. Soc.
147 Cf. for example, Folk-lore, vi., 1895, pp. 154, 160; Proc. Roy. Irish Acad. (3), ii., 1893, p. 818.
148 H. C. March, “The Pagan-Christian Overlap in the North,” Trans. Lanc. and Cheshire Ant. Soc., ix., 1892.
149 J. G. Frazer, Totemism, 1887. (An expansion of the article on “Totemism” in the Encyclopedia Britannica, ninth edition.)
150 A. C. Haddon, “The Ethnography of the Western Tribe of Torres Straits,” Journ. Anth. Inst., xix., 1890, p. 393.
151 “Die Zaubermuster der Orang hutan,” Hrolf Vaughan Stevens, edited by Albert Grünwedel, Zeitschr. f. Ethnol., xxvi., 1894, p. 141.
152 W. W. Gill, Myths and Songs of the South Pacific, p. 38. Quoted by Frazer, loc. cit., p. 58.
153 Fison and Howitt, Kamilaroi and Kurnai, p. 53; cf. Brough Smyth, The Aborigines of Victoria, i. p. 91, quoted by Frazer, p. 67.
154 E. Grosse, Die Anfänge der Kunst, 1894, p. 112.
155 The Rev. Mr. Bulmer, of Lake Tyers in Gippsland.
156 An Account of the English Colony in New South Wales, 1804, p. 377.
157 A. Lang, Custom and Myth, 1884, p. 276.
158 Cf. A. B. Cook, “Animal Worship in the Mycenæan Age,” Journ. Hellenic Studies, xiv., 1894, p. 81. Mr. Cook says: “On the whole, I gather that the Mycenæan worshippers were not totemists pure and simple, but that the mode of the worship points to its having been developed out of still earlier totemism” (p. 158).
159 In a letter Dr. Codrington writes: “I do not think that the very prognathous human head has anything to do with a bird. If you look at the very excellent coloured frontispiece to Brenchley’s Voyage of the Curaçoa, representing a canoe on a voyage, you will see that all the men are excessively prognathous. The original is in the Maidstone Museum. I have looked at my few Solomon Island things—a common bowl supported by two human figures, which are just the same. A carved bit of soft stone and the head of a betel lime stick, things just cut for amusement, have the same prognathism. In fact I believe that the ordinary representation of the human head is such, the more prognathous the better it is liked.”
160 “It is certain that, according to the Florida people (and their neighbours who use the word), a tindalo was once a man; but there are some whose names they know and of whom they know nothing as men. I am by no means of opinion that there was once a man named Daula. The name of the frigate-bird being kaula in Ulawa is against that (k=t=d). Rather daula is the name of the bird, and the birds are vehicles of tindalos. So as every tindalo who takes up his abode in a shark is Bagea in Florida (a common shark being bagea), so every tindalo in a frigate-bird is Daula.”—Dr. Codrington in a letter to the author.
161 H. Stolpe, Utvecklingsföreteelser i Naturfolkens Ornamentik. Ymer, 1890. Translated into English by Mrs. March, “Evolution in the Ornamental Art of Savage People,” Trans. Rochdale Lit. and Sci. Soc., 1892; and into German, Mittheil. Anth. Gesell. Wien, 1892, xxii. p. 43.
162 C. H. Read, “On the Origin and Sacred Character of certain Ornaments of the S.E. Pacific,” Jour. Anth. Inst., xxi., 1891, p. 139.
163 H. Colley March, “Polynesian Ornament a Mythography; or a Symbolism of Origin and Descent,” Jour. Anth. Inst., xxii., 1893, p. 307.
164 Probably an adze, not an axe.
165 W. Wyatt Gill, Jottings from the Pacific, 1885, p. 224.
166 W. Ellis, Polynesian Researches, 1840, i. p. 343.
167 Cf. pp. 119, 122, 213.
168 The Migration of Symbols, 1894.
169 Loc. cit., p. 1.
170 H. Colley March, “The Fylfot and the Futhorc Tir,” Trans. Lancashire and Cheshire Ant. Soc., 1886.
171 Ezekiel ix. 4-6.
172 Schliemann, Ilios, p. 350.
173 G. Ferrero, Les Lois Psychologiques du Symbolisme, 1895, p. 142.
174 The Earl of Southesk, Origins of Pictish Symbolism, 1893, p. 12.
175 Karl Blind, “Discovery of Odinic Songs in Shetland,” Nineteenth Century, June 1879, pp. 1097, 1098.
176 Karl Blind, “Troy found again,” Antiquary, 1884, p. 200.
177 Max Müller in Schliemann, Ilios, 1880, Eng. edn., p. 349.
178 Loc. cit., p. 264.
179 Karl Blind, “Discovery of Odinic Songs in Shetland,” Nineteenth Century, June 1879, p. 1098.
180 Goblet d’Alviella, loc. cit., p. 40.
181 Loc. cit., p. 42.
182 Ilios, 1880, Eng. edn., p. 353.
183 Goblet d’Alviella, loc. cit., p. 45.
184 Loc. cit., p. 45.
185 R.P. Greg, “The Fylfot and the Swastika,” Archæologia, 1885, p. 293.
186 H. Colley March, “The Fylfot and the Futhorc Tir,” Trans. Lanc. and Ches. Ant. Soc., 1886.
187 Loc. cit., pp. 44 et seq.
188 We read in the fifth book of the Odyssey (v. 270) how Odysseus “sate and cunningly guided the craft with the helm, nor did sleep fall upon his eyelids, as he viewed the Pleiads and Boötes, that setteth late, and the Bear, which they likewise call the Wain, which turneth ever in one place, and keepeth watch upon Orion, and alone hath no part in the baths of Ocean.”
189 The importance of astronomical lore in the cults of ancient civilisations is being more forcibly brought home to us as the remains of antiquity are being more critically and sympathetically investigated. Professor D’Arcy W. Thompson, Junr., has recently published a suggestive paper (“On Bird and Beast in Ancient Symbolism,” Trans. Roy. Soc., Edin., xxxviii., Pt. 1, 1895, p. 179) in which he suggests that many of the Greek representations of animals on monument or coin indicate not the creatures themselves but their stellar namesakes. M. J. Svoronos (“Sur la signification des types monétaires des anciens,” Bull. Correspondance Hellénique, 1894) had simultaneously and independently arrived at a similar conclusion, but D’Arcy Thompson carries the argument a step further, and attempts to show that the associated emblems correspond to the positions relative to one another of the heavenly bodies, in some cases to the configuration of the sky at critical periods of the year, or at the festival seasons of the cities to which the coins belong.
“The stellar symbolism that I here advocate is, I maintain, a different thing from the sun-myths, dawn-myths, and so forth, which are now to a large extent deservedly repudiated. We cannot ascribe to the civilised nations of antiquity the puerile conceptions of nature that are congruent with a stage of awakening intelligence and with the crude results of untrained observation. Rather are we dealing with the elaborated gain of ages of scientific knowledge, with the thoughts of a people whose very temples were oriented to particular stars, or to critical points in the journey of the sun; whose representations of Art, on frieze and pediment, in tragedy and epic, were governed by what would at first appear to be a tyrannical convention, which convention, however, so far from hampering their genius, seems, under the influence of a wholesome restraint, to have moulded their art into more beautiful, more poetic, and more sanctified forms.... The dominant priesthood, whose domain was knowledge, holding the keys of treasured learning opened the lock with chary hand, and veiled plain speech in fantastic allegory. In such allegory Egyptian priests spoke to Greek travellers, who came to them as Dervish-pilgrims or Wandelnde Studenten.... At Olympia, in the beginning of each Leap-year cycle, the noblest youth of Greece raced, round the symbolic pillars, their horses emblematic of the Horses of the Sun; thereby glorifying a God whom they thus ignorantly worshipped. Even so, we read in the Second Book of Kings [xvii. 16; xxi. 3, 5; xxiii. 5] how their Phœnician cousins worshipped with like ceremony the same God. And all the while, in the evening and the morning, priests and πρόσπολοι watched, measured, and compared the rising and setting of sun and stars, in temples that were astronomical observatories, to the glory of a religion whose mystery was astronomic science.”
190 P. Gardner, “Ares as a Sun-god,” Numismatic Chronicle, xx., N.S., 1880, p. 59.
191 The Grammar of the Lotus, p. 352.
192 “On the Pottery of Cyprus,” Appendix to General L. P. di Cesnola’s Cyprus, 1877, p. 410.
193 The Industrial Arts of India, 1880, i. p. 107.
194 Loc. cit., p. 353.
195 G. Maspero, Histoire ancienne des peuples de l’Orient, 1886, p. 241, quoted by Count G. d’Alviella.
196 Guillaume Ferrero, Les Lois Psychologiques du Symbolisme, 1895. (Translated from the Italian.) I am indebted to my friend Havelock Ellis for the reference to and loan of this book.
197 See note on next page.
[198] 1 Samuel iv. 3, 7.
199 Loc. cit., p. 139.
200 H. Balfour, “The Origin of Decorative Art as illustrated by the Art of Modern Savages,” Midland Naturalist, xiii., 1890; The Evolution of Decorative Art, 1893, p. 24; “Evolution in Decorative Art,” Journ. Soc. Arts, xlii., 1894, p. 458.
201 “On the Date of British Coins,” Numismatic Chronicle, xiii., 1850, p. 127.
202 Ancient British Coins, 1864, p. 27.
203 I venture, however, to question whether this is in reality very operative among savages.
204 I by no means wish to imply that a homogeneous people implies a pure race; a people composed of several elements, if well mixed up and isolated for a long time, may become fairly homogeneous.
205 Dr. W. Hein has just published a well illustrated paper on anthropomorphic designs among the Dyaks (Borneo), Ann. k.k. nat. Hofmuseums, Vienna, x., 1895, p. 94.
206 Journ. Roy. Soc. Antiq. of Ireland, v. (5th ser.), 1895, p. 32; cf. also the quotation from Mr. Arthur Evans, p. 142, ante.
207 Loc. cit., p. 260.
208 Cf. pp. 143, 144, 149 ante.
209 Loc. cit., p. 263.
210 From an essay in Schliemann’s Ilios, p. 348.
211 Zeitschr. für Ethnologie, xxvi., 1894, p. 142.
212 John M. Kemble, Horæ Ferales, or Studies in the Archæology of the Northern Nations, 1863, p. 80.
213 Address to the Anthropological Section, British Association, Ipswich Meeting, 1895.