Part 26

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:—

[206] _Journ. Roy. Soc. Antiq. of Ireland_, v. (5th ser.), 1895, p. 32; cf. also the quotation from Mr. Arthur Evans, p. 142, _ante_.

“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]

[207] _Loc. cit._, p. 260.

“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]

[208] Cf. pp. 143, 144, 149 _ante_.

[209] _Loc. cit._, p. 263.

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!”

[210] From an essay in Schliemann’s _Ilios_, p. 348.

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. Grünwedel[211] 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.”

[211] _Zeitschr. für Ethnologie_, xxvi., 1894, p. 142.

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. Kemble[212] 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.”

[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.

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.

EXPLANATION OF THE PLATES.

PLATE I.—SKEUOMORPHS OF BINDING.

FIGS. 1. Part of the stone axe of Montezuma II., Ambras Museum, Vienna (J. Evans, _The Ancient Bronze Implements of Great Britain and Ireland_, 1881, Fig. 180, p. 148). 2. Socket of a bronze spear-head, Co. Galway, Ireland (Evans, _loc. cit._, Fig. 393, p. 320). 3. Socket of a bronze spear-head, Ireland (Evans, _loc. cit._, Fig. 402, p. 326). 4. Bronze palstave (socketed celt), Co. Meath, Ireland (Evans, _loc. cit._, Fig. 172, p. 140). 5. Bronze vessel, Lake of Bourget (F. Keller, _The Lake Dwellings of Switzerland_, 2nd ed., 1878, Plate CLIX., Fig. 1). 6. Pattern on an ebony comb, Assyria (G. Perrot and C. Chipiez, _History of Art in Chaldæa and Assyria_, ii., 1884, Fig. 227, p. 350). 7. Pattern on a sculptured stone cornice (Perrot and Chipiez, _History of Ancient Egyptian Art_, ii., 1883, Fig. 288, p. 361, from Prisse d’Avennes). 8. Pattern on a perforated bone needle, Tumulus, Holyhead (W. Owen Stanley, _Arch, Journ._, xxxiii., 1876, pp. 94, 133). 9. Back of a bronze knife, Estavayer (Keller, _loc. cit._, Plate XCVI., Fig. 12). 10. Bronze palstave, near Kingston-on-Thames (Evans, _loc. cit._, Fig. 141, p. 125). 11. Bronze palstave, Fornham, near Bury St. Edmunds (Evans, _loc. cit._, Fig. 133, p. 122). _a._ “Angular Meander,” Wolvesey Castle, Winchester, _temp._ Stephen (_Archæologia_, xvi., 1812, p. 361, Plate LXII., Fig. 3). _b._ Norman capital, “sections of branches” or billet ends, Peterborough Cathedral (_Archæologia_, xii., 1796, Plate XXXI., Fig. 4, p. 168). _c._ Hut-urn, Etruscan, Monte Albano (_Museo Kircheriano, Rome_), _d-f._ Skeuomorphs of the gable (_Household Furniture_).

PLATE II.—SKEUOMORPHS OF WATTLE-WORK.

FIGS. 1. Impression of wattle-work on clay, Ebersberg (Keller, _loc. cit._, Plate CXLIV., Fig. 16). 2. Bast twisted among willow rods, Robenhausen (Keller, _loc. cit._, Plate CXXXIV., Fig. 5). 3. Mat of bast, Robenhausen (Keller, _loc. cit._, Plate CXXXIV., Fig. 2). 4. Fabric of flax, Robenhausen (Keller, _loc. cit._, Plate CXXXVI., Fig. 4). 5. Fabric of bast, Robenhausen (Keller, _loc. cit._, Plate CXXXV., Fig. 3). 6. Corbula, Italy (W. Smith, _Dict. Roman Antiq._, p. 285). 7. Basket on ivory plaque, Boulak (Perrot and Chipiez, _Egypt_, ii., Fig. 321, p. 388). 8. Earthenware food-vessel, Stone Age, Denmark (Worsaae, _Danish Arts_, p. 36). 9. Bottom of a basket, Terramara Beds, Northern Italy (Keller, _loc. cit._, Plate CXVI., Fig. 11). 10. Fragment of Pottery, Terramara Beds, Northern Italy (Keller, _loc. cit._, Plate CXIII., Fig. 13).

PLATE III.—SKEUOMORPHS OF BASKETRY.

FIGS. A. Hypothetical origin of a scroll from basket-work. B. Hypothetical origin of a curvilinear fret from basket-work. 1. Marginal pattern of a bronze buckler from Amathus, Cyprus (G. Perrot and C. Chipiez, _History of Art on Phœnicia and its Dependencies_, ii., 1885, Fig. 363, p. 420). 2. Pattern on a bronze buckler from Dali, Cyprus (Perrot and Chipiez, _loc. cit._, Fig. 360, p. 418). 3. Greek guilloche (Wornum, _Analysis of Ornament_, 7th ed., p. 58). 4. Assyrian guilloche (Glazier, _Notes on Ornament_, p. 8). 5. Pattern on an enamelled Roman vase, Bartlow Hills (_Arch. Journ._, xii., 1855, p. 418). 6. Bowl of Ancient Pueblos, Tusayan (W. H. Holmes, _Fourth Ann. Rep. Bureau Eth._, Fig. 308, p. 331). 7. Handled vase of Ancient Pueblos, Tusayan (_loc. cit._, Fig. 336, p. 346). 8. Terra-cotta vase, Third Sepulchre of Mycenæ (Schliemann, _Mycenæ_, 1878, No. 324, p. 209).

PLATE IV.—SKEUOMORPHS OF THE WITHY-BAND.

1. “The Tarsus Seal” of hæmatite, Hittite (_Nature_, April 26, 1888, p. 610). The right-hand design strongly resembles a course of the twisted fibre of basketry when removed from the upright osier-sticks. 2. Detail on incised stone, Kirk Maughold, Isle of Man (_Runic Remains_, Fig. 24). 3. Detail on incised stone, Church of Mont Majour, Nimes, tenth century (Wright, _Hist. of Caricature_, p. 48). 4. Detail on incised stone, Malew, Isle of Man; “Leather or strap-work” (_Runic Remains_, Fig. 15).

FILIGREE.