HISTORICAL ART
It is exceedingly difficult to decide at what precise stage in
the evolution of mankind we can first distinguish signs of a true
commemorative art. It seems pretty evident that the lowest of the known
tribes—such as the Veddas, the Bubis, the Kubus—live exclusively in
and for the present, without any memories or traditions as to their
past. When we turn our attention, however, to tribes in the somewhat
higher condition of culture we find that the statements of travellers
are not at one with regard to this. The Fuegians are said by M. Hyades
to lack any kind of history and tradition.[210] But, on the other
hand, one of their pantomimical dances (or rather dramas) has been
explained by M. Martial, another member of the Cape Horn expedition, as
commemorating the revolt of the men against the women, “who formerly
had the authority and possessed the secrets of sorcery.”[211] The
inconsistency between these two assertions can, however, be explained
by the fact that Hyades evidently had in view only the oral tradition.
The interpretation of M. Martial again seems to be merely hypothetical.
Mr. Bridges, who is more competent than any one else to speak about
this tribe, does not allude to any commemorative element in the “Kina,”
although even he thinks that these plays, in which the parts were
formerly acted by women, are old and traditional in their form.[212]
A similar inconsistency in the use of terms has no doubt been the
cause of the conflicting reports on the traditional poetry of the
Greenlanders. In his account of their “Wissenschaften” Cranz says that
they have no heroic songs describing the doings of their ancestors.
But the very wording of this negation—“They know nothing about them
except that they were brave hunters, and slew the old Norsemen”—shows
that it can by no means be adduced to prove complete default of oral
tradition.[213] And in another passage Cranz expressly says that the
Eskimos, at their sunfeasts, praise the feats of their ancestors.[214]
It is more difficult to bring into accord the various statements
concerning the Melanesians. Mr. Codrington sees a distinguishing
feature of this ethnological group in the fact that they, in contrast
to the Polynesians, are conspicuously devoid of native history and oral
tradition.[215] But this rule is evidently subject to at least one
important exception, as the Fijians are known to celebrate subjects
from their legendary history in their choral dance-songs.[216] One
is led to believe, therefore, that in some other island, also of the
Melanesian group, traditional poetry and traditional dramas may have
existed, but escaped the attention of the ethnologists. Negative
statements are never to be unreservedly relied upon, least of all
perhaps in accounts of uncivilised men. The case of the Navajo affords
an instructive and warning example, which falls exactly within the
limits of the present investigation. In spite of the statement by Dr.
Letherman, who is acknowledged to have been a “man of unusual ability,”
that the Navajos had “no knowledge of their origin or of the history of
their tribe,”[217] Dr. Washington Matthews has been able to gather his
imposing collection of historical songs and traditional commemorative
customs.[218]
An incident of this kind is apt to make us sceptical with regard to the
assertion of Captain Cook, which has, however, been unreservedly quoted
by Lubbock and Spencer, that the Maoris, a race noted for old legends
and ancient lore, in 1770 had no recollection of Tasman’s visit to
their island.[219] And one is inclined to doubt the trustworthiness of
Schoolcraft’s informant when he says that the Appalachian Indians had
lost all recollection of De Soto’s expedition.[220] Compared with the
statements concerning the Lenape and the Mohicans, who still remember
Hudson, and the Iroquois and the Algonquins, who preserve traditions
of the first white immigrants,[221] this assertion will, in any case,
lose its force as a judgment upon the whole North American race, in
which sense it has, however, been used by Lubbock.[222] On a closer
investigation the Chinooks will perhaps be also discharged from the
unfavourable verdict passed upon them by Kane, who could never hear any
traditions as to their former origin.[223]
It is safest, therefore, merely to state generally and approximately
that among the lower savages the commemorative element is lost sight
of amid the prevailing _impromptu_ productions. With higher culture
the commemorative inclination appears to become intensified. But its
growth cannot be considered as closely accompanying the general mental
evolution. Whatever great treasures of epical poetry and literature may
some day be found amongst the Melanesians, their relative inferiority
in this respect can never be contested. When a group like this,
notwithstanding its unsurpassed ability in formative art,—which,
however, seems to suggest a commemorative purpose,[224]—can be outdone
in matters of oral history and tradition, not only by the Polynesians
but even, it would seem, by the Australians,[225] there is of course
no possibility of applying the general scheme of evolution to fix the
definite beginnings of commemorative art. _A priori_ assertions do
not count in a question in which the reality defeats the assumptions
of probability in such a surprising manner. Before the ethnological
knowledge becomes more complete no statement as to traditional art can
be accepted as definite.
The scantiness of reliable information does not, however, constitute
the greatest difficulty. The facts themselves, even if their
authenticity is granted, are often liable to the most inconsistent
interpretations. For an exact appreciation of the influence which
the commemorative impulse has exercised on the history of art it is
insufficient to enumerate examples, however many might be found, of
traditionally preserved works of art. The really important thing is
to distinguish works which can be considered as genuine specimens of
historical art, _i.e._ as the outcome of a commemorative intention,
from the mere survivals which resemble these in so confusing a manner.
In almost every artistic manifestation we can read a story of the past.
The tenacity with which the old forms and the old technical procedures
are retained lends a documentary value to every ornament, picture, or
poem. By authors with a predilection for historic interpretations this
record element is apt to be considered as intentionally aimed at. The
euhemeristic view will in this way be applied to the history of art,
with results that are often as extravagant as the mythological theories
themselves. For every detail in a dance or dramatic performance a
reason has been looked for in some event of real occurrence. This
method has its strong and sensible side—and a very sensible one
indeed—in that it does away with the idea of a rich and creative
imagination in primitive man. It can also be applied to with great
advantage for the explanation of artistic manifestation, which would
otherwise be quite incomprehensible.[226] But its use is not, any
more than that of any other general theory, to be recommended as a
master-key to all the mysteries of ceremonialism and ritual art.
The shortcomings of the method are strongly emphasised by the fact
that it has failed in cases which have been chosen expressly for its
illustration.
Foremost amongst the advocates of euhemerism in the study of ceremonial
stands Captain Bourke, who has taken up and extended to the rites and
dramas of the living savages the theory of Higgins, that all ceremonies
of antiquity were created with a view of preserving to the memory
ancient learning and ancient traditions.[227] It would be extremely
unfair to accuse this indefatigable hunter after analogies of a limited
understanding. In questions of ritualistic detail, such, for instance,
as those of the flour-sprinkling customs, his comparative studies
are not only unsurpassed as proofs of learning, but are also full of
valuable and instructive suggestions.[228] The stately array of facts
which he has collected from all stages of culture does not, however,
convince any impartial reader of the correctness of the main assertions
in his books. A student of comparative psychology, for instance, will
always remember the psycho-pathological influences which everywhere and
always tend to provoke the same sort of horrid, scatological orgies, in
which Captain Bourke has seen a commemoration of some old, exceptional
conditions of life.[229] As to the snake-dance at Walpi, which forms
the subject of his earliest great work, it cannot be denied that some
details in the rite and some of the ceremonial paraphernalia are
illustrative of a way of life which presumably predominated amongst the
prehistoric Pueblo-Indians.[230] From the dance one might therefore
reconstruct an epitomised history of the tribe, which would supplement
the tales that are told by the constructional details of the “kiva”
architecture and the decorative adornments of the Pueblo pottery.[231]
But it seems unjustifiable to adduce, as Mr. Spencer has done, this
rite as a typical specimen of commemorative ancestor-worship.[232]
In attempting to explain the origin and the purpose of the rite, the
later investigators have also on good grounds neglected to appeal
to the commemorative intention. As has been conclusively shown by
the consummate researches of Mr. Fewkes, the snake-ceremonials are
mainly and chiefly to be considered as dramatic expressions of the
water-cult, which permeates every department in the life of the
Pueblo-Indians.[233] Through such an interpretation the drama is
brought into close connection with the religious system as well as with
the practical necessities of the Pueblo-Indians. Its significance as
the most important of all the national ceremonies is easily understood,
when the rite in its entirety is regarded as only an active form of the
same prayer for rain, which is pictorially conveyed in the sand-mosaics
and in the painted ornaments of the tribe.[234] Its various details,
on the other hand, will find their most unsought-for explanation
when considered as contributing to the great propitiatory purpose.
Whatever value and interest an euhemeristic interpretation might have
for a student of the prehistoric Pueblo-life, the psycho-sociological
conditions of the rite, so to speak, can be fully comprehended only
when they are investigated in connection with the ideas of ritual magic
and religious propitiation. The same view holds good, we believe, with
regard to almost all the religious ceremonies of uncivilised man,
although it may be impossible to prove it in every individual case, as
the facts themselves generally are entangled in a most exasperating
manner. They must be detached not only from the theoretical
constructions of the anthropologists, but also from the euhemeristic
interpretations of the natives themselves. The native dogmatism will
often be even more misleading than that of the scientists.
It is a well-known phenomenon, which often repeats itself, that when
a higher stage of culture is reached the original significance of a
rite or a custom falls into oblivion. The custom itself, will, however,
with the tenacious conservatism that characterises man, be rigorously
maintained long after its origin has been forgotten. Amongst the lower
savages no other justification of these ceremonies—incomprehensible
to the participants themselves—is necessary than the oft-quoted “our
fathers did so before us.” But with increased intellectual development
there must arise a craving for some reasonable explanation. The
semi-civilised man never cares to admit to how great an extent his
actions are automatical. Hence the rationalisation of rites and
customs,—familiar to every student of Christian theology,—which has its
beginnings even in the higher stages of savagery. The rationalisation
most readily adopted by tribes without developed philosophical or
ethical notions is the historical one. The simple and honest argument
“because our fathers did so” is replaced by the fictitious motive of
keeping up the memory of the doings of the fathers. When once this
reasoning obtains full power it will soon cover the whole field of
ritual life. Every incomprehensible feature in ceremonies or customs
will be explained through reference to the past. And when knowledge
of events falls short of affording such an explanation, popular
imagination will always be prone to substitute itself for the missing
reality.[235] In this way a commemorative excuse can easily be found
for every apparently illogical action in life.
In fact, the creation of “etiological” or justificatory history and
mythology is by no means limited to the department of religious
ritualism. Even more trivial actions, such as games and pastimes, will,
amongst tribes with developed historical tendencies, be connected
with imaginary occurrences, which latter will be found to account for
every detail in such games and pastimes. With the Cherokee Indians,
for example, we find a most intricate animal story, in which the
action of the bat, the eagle, and other creatures closely correspond
to the movements of the different participators in the national
ball-play.[236] Although much may be said in favour of the ingenious
hypothesis of Professor Groos, who suggests that military games, such
as chess and draughts, may have been developed from dramatic narratives
of real battles, supplemented perhaps with maps drawn in the sand and
simple symbols—stones, pebbles, etc.—representing the various armies
and soldiers;[237] and although it may reasonably be assumed that the
beasts in the animal story of the Cherokees represents the _totems_
of some old Indian chiefs,—a story like this must be considered as
secondary, in its details at least, to the play. More artificial
still it sounds when the Moondahs in Bengal affirm that their popular
Easter-game of pushing eggs the one against the other in reality serves
as a means of commemorating the feats of Sing Bonga, who, with a
single hen’s egg, crushed the iron globes of his rivals.[238]
Unfortunately, it is but seldom that the commemorative motive shows its
fictitious nature with so much evidence as in this game. In most cases
there will always be a doubt as to whether the religious drama, poem,
or design was originally intended as a means of conveying knowledge of
some real or legendary event, or whether the idea of these events was
derived from a simple game, a propitiative poem, or a magical design.
We have quoted some instances in which the historical interpretation
is secondary only. But there could easily be adduced other instances
in which the opposite is the case. Ancient poems, whose historical
and legendary character is quite incontestable, may often be used as
charms in magical ceremonies.[239] It seems quite impossible therefore
to pronounce any definite judgment as to priority between myth and
ceremony without special investigation of every single case. In the
department of pictorial art it is scarcely less difficult to separate
the genuinely commemorative elements from the close interweaving of
different motives, which call into existence a work of art.
Foremost in rank amongst all the works of design and sculpture that
have influenced artistic evolution stand the likenesses of a deceased
person which are placed by the relatives on his grave or in his home.
To civilised man it is most natural to look upon these effigies as
tokens of loving remembrance by which the survivors endeavour to
keep fresh the memory of the departed. It is also easy for us to
understand that the pious feelings extended towards such effigies
may acquire an almost religious character. There is something to be
said therefore on behalf of the view that commemorative monuments
have been the predecessors of idols proper. Lubbock, who interprets
Erman’s description of the Ostyak religion[240] in this way, quotes
in further corroboration _The Wisdom of Solomon_, in which work there
is to be found a detailed account of the evolution of idolatry from
memorial images.[241] The probability, however, is that in pictorial
as well as in dramatic art the purely commemorative intention belongs
to the latter stages of culture. It seems in most cases to be beyond
doubt that among the lowest tribes the images serve as paraphernalia
in the animistic rites. They are either taken to be embodiments of
the ancestors’ soul, or receptacles in which this soul, if properly
invoked, might take up its abode for the occasion. And similar
superstitious notions are entertained, not only with regard to the
monuments proper erected on the graves of powerful ancestors, but
also with regard to such minor works as, _e.g._, the dolls which are
often prepared by West African mothers when they have lost a favourite
child.[242] The vague and indistinct character of these images shows
us also that no intellectual record of the individual has been aimed
at. No more than the poetic effusions of regret with which the pious
survivors endeavour to propitiate the names of the deceased, do
these formative works of “pietas” give us any information as to the
personality of him whom they pretend to represent.
This general notion, however, must not be allowed to prevent us from
admitting that among sundry tribes of mankind the images may be
historical. This is asserted with regard to the Bongos by Schweinfurth,
and with regard to the Gold Coast negroes by Cruickshank. The wooden
effigies on the Marquesas Islands are described by Herr Schmeltz as
“constructed in memory of celebrated members of the tribe.”[243] The
Melanesian sculptures also, according to Codrington, are chiefly
commemorative. It must be observed, however, that according to his own
description a sort of religious respect is paid at least to some of
them.[244] More undeniably commemorative examples are to be found in
New Zealand. Although no attempt to reproduce likenesses is made in
these colossal wooden statues, they nevertheless more nearly approach
the idea of monumental commemorative portraiture than any similar
works of primitive art. The patterns of tattooing, that infallible
means of identification amongst the Maoris, render it possible to
preserve the memories of the individual ancestors through pictorial
representation.[245]
Not less problematic than ancestral sculptures are the much-debated
rock-paintings and engravings that can be found in every part of
the world. Herr Andree finds a sort of learned bias in the general
tendency to look for some serious, sacred, or historical meaning
in every petroglyph. He points, very sensibly as it seems, to the
prevailing impulse of the idle hand to scratch some figures, however
meaningless, on every inviting and empty surface. Especially at much
frequented localities—such as meeting-places, common thoroughfares,
and places of rest for travellers—where the drawings of previous
visitors call for imitation, this temptation must be looked upon as a
very strong one.[246] There is no reason for regarding the savage and
the prehistoric man as devoid of an impulse, which, as we all know,
shows its strength among the very lowest and most primitive layers
of civilised society. It is unnecessary, therefore, to find anything
more remarkable in the petroglyphs than is to be found in the familiar
pictures on walls, trees, and rocks which have been wantonly decorated
by the modern vandal. This common-sense explanation is undoubtedly
sufficient to account for the origin of many much-debated works of
glyphic art. But however sound within its proper limits it cannot be
extended so as to give a general solution of the petroglyph problem.
It is not likely, as Mr. Im Thurn observes, that pictures such as the
rock-engravings in Guiana, to produce which must have cost so much time
and trouble, should have their origin in mere caprice and idleness.[247]
But even if the serious aspect of the petroglyphs is granted there
still remains the difficulty of determining their special purpose. The
historical explanation, although it would appear the most natural for
us to adopt, is not to be taken unreservedly with regard to tribes on
a low degree of development. What to us seems a sort of picture-writing
might possibly serve a purpose anything but communicative. The
so-called ideograms of the Nicobarese have, for example, according
to Herr Svoboda, for their object the distraction of the attention
of the malevolent demons from their houses and implements[248]. When
investigating the ritual, especially the funeral ceremonies, one meets
with various specimens of similar ideography, the thought-conveying
purpose of which is deceptive.
By the above examples the ambiguous character of primitive art-works
has been proved almost _ad nauseam_. It appears that every single
conclusion based upon isolated ethnological examples only is liable
to be upset after a closer study of the facts. In order, therefore,
to make any positive assertions as to the commemorative element in
art we need some safer and more reliable grounds of argument than
the inconsistent stories of travellers. We have, in other words,
to investigate the social and psychological conditions which, in
the respective cases, speak for or against the assumption of a
commemorative impulse as a motive for art-production. Owing to our
deficient knowledge of primitive life we are not able to rely upon
these social and psychological data in every individual case. But
we may nevertheless arrive at some broad results which in the main
tally with, and corroborate the evidence afforded by, the majority of
ethnological facts.
It is easy to understand why historical art holds no high place among
the lower—that is, the hunting and fishing—tribes. Even if, as is the
case in Australia, every unusual occurrence is represented in art with
a view of keeping up its memory,[249] these accidental interruptions
in a monotonous life cannot possibly contribute to the development
of an historical interest—that is to say, a commemorative attention
in the people. When, on the other hand, we meet, in barbaric and
semi-barbaric tribes, with a flourishing traditional art, we can also,
in most cases, point to some peculiar features in their life which
have called for commemoration. In a general survey of traditional
poetry one cannot but be struck by the great prevalence of legends
about migrations.[250] As travels and incidents of travel were found
to provide a favourite subject for the pantomimes and poems described
in the preceding chapter, so these experiences have also exercised
an important influence on the songs that have been preserved by oral
tradition. And as we meet with numerous instances of improvised drama
and poetry called forth by so eminently interesting an occurrence as
the visit of some white people, so we can also trace the same theme in
manifestations of historical art from dim and distorted narrations up
to richly detailed descriptions like those of the Hawajian songs or of
the Mangaian “Drama of Cook.”[251] The influence which these motives
have exercised on the history of art is only in accordance with the
universal laws of psychology. Tribal memory, no less than individual
memory, is dependent for its development on some favourable external
influences that stimulate the attention.
It must not surprise us, therefore, that the varying experiences of
war have everywhere acted as a strong incentive on the commemorative
impulse. In this case, however, we have to count with a factor of still
greater importance in the directly utilitarian advantage which military
nations derive from historical art. Through recounting or representing
the exploits of earlier generations, the descendants acquire that
healthy feeling of pride which is the most important factor of success
in all brutal forms of the struggle for life. So it has come about that
historic art has everywhere reached its highest state of development
amongst nations who have had to hold their own _vi et armis_ against
neighbouring tribes, or in the midst of which antagonistic families
have fought for supremacy. The more the social institutions have been
influenced by the customs of war, the more important is usually the
part which commemoration plays in public life. It is highly prominent
in semi-feudal Polynesia,[252] where domestic warfare was at all times
of regular occurrence; it has developed to some extent in warlike
Fiji,[253] notwithstanding the Melanesian indifference for the past;
and it has obtained the position of a state function in military
despotisms, such as the barbaric kingdoms of Central and South America
and Western Africa.[254] In isolated tribes, on the other hand, whose
whole struggle has been one against nature, historical art is generally
to be found at a very low ebb.
That bygone events have been preserved in history and art chiefly for
the sake of their effect in enhancing the national pride can also be
concluded from the way in which humiliating incidents are treated.
There are, it is true, a few isolated and unhappy tribes which keep up
some dim traditions of their inglorious past.[255] Generally, however,
defeats are totally ignored in the earliest chronicles. If, however, an
unsuccessful battle should have provoked artistic manifestations, these
aim at masking the humiliation.[256] The ancient history of Greece
affords the most curious examples of myths and inventions by means
of which the popular imagination contrived to conceal disagreeable
truths. The fate of Phrynichos, who was fined for having revived the
memory of the defeat at Miletus, shows that Greece, even at a much
later period, preserved the same primitive ideas as to the _raison
d’être_ of historic art. It is needless to point out to how great an
extent similar conceptions still prevail amongst all warlike nations,
civilised and barbarous alike.
We must not overlook the fact, however, that defeats are often
represented in unmasked form for the purpose of stirring up a
revengeful spirit. But this apparent exception only proves the
rule. By appealing to the wounded dignity of the people, poems
and dramas of this kind serve the cravings of collective pride as
effectively—although, no doubt, indirectly—as manifestations of
the opposite order. An increased attention to the past, with a
corresponding richness of traditional art, can also generally be found
in nations where revenge is considered as a sacred duty bequeathed to
descendants by their ancestors.
When historic art is regarded as a means of handing down to posterity a
knowledge of the present, a connection with the same group of emotions
is easily discoverable. The great works of commemoration are all
monuments of boasting. By the grandiloquent hieroglyphs on palaces and
pyramids and by the extolling hymns that he orders to be sung in his
praise, the exultant hero endeavours to win from future admirers a meed
of praise which shall quench his unsatisfied thirst for glorification.
Even in this case, therefore, history, in its psychological sense—that
is, the concentration of attention upon times other than the
present—has been born of pride.
By relying on this emotionalistic interpretation we can explain the
otherwise extraordinary development of commemorative art amongst
tribes on relatively low stages of intellectual development. The same
explanation also accounts for the artistic value of the primitive
records. The intensely emotional element of exultation, pride, and
boasting that pervades so many of the commemorative poems and dramas
makes this kind of history an art in the proper sense of the word.
It is needless to point out expressly that literary and formative arts
may be used for conveying thought-contents which cannot, properly
speaking, be called historical. We have restricted our attention to
the unmistakably commemorative forms, because in these alone can the
purpose of information be isolated with any degree of certainty. By
tracing the gradual development of narrative art from those simplest
manifestations in which the work is immediately connected with the
real occurrence that called it into existence, up to the more complex
forms of transmitted art, in which distant events are represented, we
have endeavoured to keep our argument within the limits of positive
research. This safe ground we should be compelled to abandon if we were
to engage in the otherwise so fascinating task of unearthing historical
elements in mythological tradition.
It seems impossible, moreover, to treat of such art-forms as the
nature-myths, the tales, and the animal stories without bringing in
those factors which should especially be kept outside the present
research—the art-impulse, the play-impulse, or the delight in pure
invention for invention’s sake; whereas we are justified in treating
even the highest purely commemorative art as the development of an
activity which was connected with the utilitarian end of information.
It must not be overlooked, however, that primitive art offers some
important and purely didactic manifestations which have no historical
purpose. Thus, among savages and barbarians, dramatic performances,
poetic recitals, and pictorial representations often serve as means of
expounding religious or philosophical doctrines. We need only refer
to the most striking instances, such as the Australian miracle-plays,
in which the old men enact before the boys a representation of death
and resurrection.[257] Although less elaborate in dramatic detail and
stage-management, the fragmentary dramas in which the Indian shaman
novitiates are supposed to be killed and recalled to life present to
us a scarcely less interesting result of the same great thought.[258]
There are indeed, especially in this later example, good reasons for
assuming that the simulated death and resurrection are supposed to
effect, in a magical way, some kind of spiritual regeneration in the
novitiates on whose behalf the drama is performed. But while admitting
this, we may nevertheless take it for granted that an endeavour to
elucidate the doctrines of the shaman priesthood may be combined with
the magical rite in question. And similarly, with regard to analogous
ceremonies in other tribes, we feel justified in assuming the presence
of a didactic purpose. The more the doctrinal system becomes fixed
and elaborated, the greater need will there ensue of affording these
doctrines a clear expression in the objective forms of art.
What has been said about religious and philosophical subjects in
dramatical art refers equally to poems and paintings. We have therefore
to regard the requirements of religious instruction as a factor which
has favoured the development of art in all its departments. But we
have no means of ascertaining at what precise stage in the evolution
this factor, as distinct from other motives, began to exercise
its influence. The settlement of this special point, however, is
not indispensable to a general comprehension of the principles of
art-history.
It is more important, from our point of view, to determine the
influence which the purely intellectual motive of conveying with
the greatest possible clearness a thought-content, be it historical,
religious, or philosophical, has exercised on the artistic
representations of life and nature. Although of itself essentially
non-æsthetic, this purpose has nevertheless called into existence some
most important æsthetic qualities. Especially in narrative painting
we may often observe how the virtues of exactness, explicitness, and
comprehensibility give a character of beauty to representations which
may have originated in a purely practical intention. As has been
clearly pointed out by Mr. Walter Crane, the Egyptian hieroglyphs have
reached their “wonderful pitch of abstract yet exact characterisation”
precisely because they had the character and the purpose of a
“decorative record.” The same necessity, viz. that “every object
had to be clearly defined so as to be recognised at once and easily
deciphered,”[259] is undoubtedly to a great degree responsible for the
element of beauty which is to be found in the pictography of North
American Indians. Practical utility has in this way subserved the
development of an attention to the picturesque side of things. But
one has only to look at the more symbolical systems of ideographic
writing, such as the Assyrian, the Mexican, and the Chinese, in order
to understand that the intellectual requirement by itself never would
have created an _artistic_ representation of nature.[260]
This distinction is especially indispensable for a right conception
of the intellectual elements in poetry. It is undeniable that some of
the most important qualities in literature were developed during the
time when it was used chiefly as a means for conveying information.
The practical considerations therein have undoubtedly influenced
the form of the oral narrative. It is evident, for example, that the
metrical and rhythmical recital must have proved the more serviceable
whenever a thought-content was to be preserved for futurity. But this
fact gives no authorisation to those curious theories according to
which poetry was invented and developed, thanks to its merits as a
mnemonic device. It is, as was long since remarked by Brown,[261]
difficult to understand how rhythm, numbers, and verse could have been
devised as assistance for the memory, supposing nothing of that kind
to have been existing before. And even if we admit that they could
have been invented by accident, it is plain, when we fix our mind on
the _essential_ qualities of poetry, that the use of rhythm and metre
to aid memory could only have supplied a _mechanical_ condition to
facilitate the development of poetic art.