Part 24

“Now this state of consciousness, which serves for the interpretation of the symbol, would have been necessary if the symbol of the cross had ministered to the needs of existence, to commerce or politics, for example; but as it was a religious symbol whose use did not vary according to the truth and the exactness of its interpretation, it is evident that this state of consciousness would become useless in the long run, and the brain would relieve itself of it in a short time. The _croix gammée_ (fylfot) was, like genuflexions and the other mimic symbols of ceremonial, a symbol employed in relation with the divinity; accordingly, the same cause which rendered useless in the ceremonial the state of consciousness, which we have called γ,[197] has rendered useless the state of consciousness which could interpret the solar signification of the cross. It was, in short, a religious symbol employed in relation to God; rightly or wrongly interpreted as it may be, prayer and other propitiations tended to the same result; the state of consciousness which served for its interpretation was then not necessary, and the brain little by little relieved itself from it. This state of consciousness being eliminated, it was forgotten that the sign of the cross represented the sun, because this was a metaphorical symbol too vague to directly recall the idea of solar movement.

[197] See note on next page.

“When the state of consciousness which served for the interpretation of the design was gradually eliminated, all the religious sentiments which had the sun and its cult for their object were addressed to the cross; that is why it has become the object of so profound a veneration, without any one knowing its signification or origin; the cross reaps for its profit the inheritance of the solar cult of which it has ceased to be a symbol, in order to become almost a divinity by itself. The cross thus became a mystic symbol of which the applications became very numerous, and even very confused.

“All this, I repeat, is only a supposition, but it may enable us to affirm that, whatever may be the origin of the cross, its evolution, very probably, can only be explained from the point of view of the theory of the ideo-emotional arrest.”

A. _Note on Mental Inertia._

Signor G. Ferrero has studied what he terms “mental inertia” and “the law of least effort,” as applied to the mind, and he finds that the mental operation may stop short at certain points; thus he distinguishes (1) _mental arrest_, (2) _emotional arrest, and_ (3) _ideo-emotional arrest_.

(1.) The first is due to a deficiency in logic; as, for example, when machinery was first introduced, the workmen smashed the machines, regarding them as the cause of the fall in wages, and being ignorant of the fact that the altered conditions were caused by complicated economic conditions, and not by the machines.

(2.) An analogous phenomenon occurs in the domain of the emotions. An emotion is not isolated, it is always one link of a chain. The emotions are always associated with a more or less great number of images or ideas which define them. But the image or the idea of the thing which should define the emotion sometimes dwindles or entirely disappears; it then follows that the emotion, instead of being associated with the image or with the idea of this thing, is associated with the symbol which represents this thing; it stops short at the symbol instead of projecting itself beyond the symbol towards the thing represented.

This is the _emotional arrest_. It is notorious that in religion the adoration which should be paid to God in heaven is often arrested at the images which represent the divinity, as when the elders of Israel said, “Let us fetch the ark of the covenant of the Lord out of Shiloh unto us, that, when it cometh among us, it may save us out of the hand of our enemies ... and the Philistines were afraid, for they said, God is come into the camp.”[198]

[198] 1 Samuel iv. 3, 7.

(3.) There is yet a third psychological process by which the confusion between the symbol and the thing symbolised is possible; it is the _ideo-emotional arrest_. In an analysis of the mental state of a man who performs acts of social ceremonial, this author finds (p. 133) that “to each completed act there corresponds, in the spirit of man, three states of consciousness, quite distinct and associated:—

“1. The desire to cause the man to be favourable to him in whose presence the ceremonial act is accomplished (α); “2. The idea that the ceremonial act can serve this purpose (β); “3. The idea that the act can serve this purpose because the suppliant understands that he who has put himself in the position where he is unable to do harm cannot have any dangerous intention (γ).

“The mental state of those who entreat the gods was, in this primitive period, composed of the same three states of consciousness, quite distinct but inter-related:—

“1. The desire to make the divinity favourable to oneself (α); “2. The idea that certain acts or practices (prayers, visits, etc., etc.) conduce to this result (β); “3. The idea of the reason for which these acts have this power—that is to say, the conviction that they are adapted to the character attributed to the divinity (γ).

“It is evident that if we compare the mental state of men who are in harmony with ceremonial observances in this primitive period of ceremonial with the mental state of civilised men who still observe ceremonial, social, and religious rules, we find that in the mental state of civilised men the third state of consciousness—that is to say γ, has been eliminated. In fact, we have remarked that, among civilised man, the performance of a ceremonial act is determined by the desire to render himself favourable to, or at least not to offend another person or a God (α), and from the idea that these acts can produce this effect (β); without knowing why (that is to say that γ has been eliminated).

“We have seen that by the law of mental inertia, a state of consciousness—image, idea, emotion—cannot last for ever, after the exciting cause has ceased to act, for a state of consciousness is a transformation of energy, and it finishes when it has exhausted its initial quantity of force.

“Only the states of consciousness which, being necessary for the needs of existence, are preserved by permanent excitation,—be this excitation simple and direct or complex and indirect—can have an apparently eternal persistence; the duration of useless states of consciousness is limited.

“This is true for individuals or bodies of men. To each institution, to each custom, etc., there correspond in the mind of man a certain number of associated ideas, which have determined alike its birth and transformation; but, according to this law, only the ideas which are necessary should be preserved in this association of ideas; the others should be gradually eliminated.

“This interesting psychological phenomenon of _ideo-emotional arrest_ concludes by profoundly modifying ideas and feelings. It modifies ideas, for it induces what I have termed a _mental arrest_; the ideation, in fact, by the loss of the state of consciousness γ, is arrested at β; and the mind is contented to know that a certain act will produce a certain effect, or will express a certain sentiment, without troubling itself with the cause, without seeking for an explanation. It modifies, and, so to speak, displaces the feelings, for it produces that what I call an _emotional arrest_: in fact, when the idea of the true character of the ceremonial act is lost, the act is no longer a sign of certain inclinations of sentiment, but itself becomes an object of veneration. We see men who pay attention only to ceremonial and who neglect the feelings on which it should be based ... they believe they have fulfilled their religious duties, even if love and devotion are wanting, if they have not neglected the ceremonies. It is the same with the social ceremonial; for the majority of men, social duty does not consist in loyalty, in mutual affection, in a spirit of justice towards others, but in ceremonial observances; and when the ceremonial code is not violated they are persuaded that they have nothing for which to reproach themselves. It is a true _emotional arrest_, for the sentiments of social and religious duty are, so to speak, arrested midway in purely external acts.”[199]

[199] _Loc. cit._, p. 139.

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.”

[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.

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 study[201] 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.”

[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.

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.