Part 25

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.

[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.

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.

[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.

(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.