It has been frequently remarked that plant forms are rarely represented
by savages. A possible explanation may be found in the fact that
plant life is so passive, it does nothing actively or aggressively as
compared with the irrepressible vitality of animals. Thus it does not
impress itself on the imagination of backward peoples.
Another explanation has been suggested to me by Dr. Colley March. The
need of ornament is based on expectancy. The eye is so accustomed to
something in a certain association, that when this is not seen there is
experienced a sense of loss. Among savage peoples the eye is accustomed
to dwell on vegetal forms which are always present. It is only when
they cease to be present, as in the exceptional circumstances of desert
places, or walled towns, that the sense of loss can arise.
[Illustration: FIG. 69.—Design based on a palmito leaf, Bakaïri tribe,
Central Brazil; after Von den Steinen.]
It is very probable that the reputed paucity of ornamentation derived
from the vegetable world amongst primitive folk may be partly due to
our not recognising it as such. Their conventions are not the same as
ours, and they are often satisfied with what appears to us to be a very
imperfect realism. Who, for example, would recognise in Fig. 69 the
leaves of a small “cabbage”-bearing wild palm? Yet the pattern on this
painted bark-tablet of the Bakaïri tribe of Central Brazil has this
significance, according to Professor von den Steinen (cf. p. 175).
Backward people have to be taught to see beauty in nature, and it is
very doubtful if the elegance of the form of flower or leaf appeals
to them. Bright colours we know please all, and it is the colour or
scent of flowers and leaves which causes them to be worn or used in
decoration.
One of the very few instances known to me in which vegetable forms are
employed in ornamentation by the natives of British New Guinea occurs
along the Fly River (Figs. 4, 8). These natives are fond of decorating
their drums with leaves, hence it may happen that, on the principle of
expectancy, leaves become mentally associated with drum decoration, and
in consequence often carved upon drums, and thence, by the constraint
of the feeling of expectancy transferred to pipes and other objects;
the casual decoration becomes an engraved ornament. On the other hand,
the Fly River appears to have been a culture route (pp. 28, 70), and
the employment of plant motives (if the majority of these devices are
really such) may be partly due to influence from Malaysia. Dr. M.
Uhle[63] points out that “The influences of the plant ornamentation
of the East Indian Archipelago are also found in Western New Guinea.
Although essentially peculiar to the western portion of the East Indian
Archipelago it is not wanting in isolated cases in the eastern. Plant
ornamentations in perforated carving are known from Halmahera which
form a precise parallel with the carvings from Geelvink Bay. Further,
the plant ornamentation occurs in Geelvink Bay also in isolated
four-petalled flowers, as in Celebes, Halmahera, Timor, and Borneo.
[Plant garlands are found on objects from the neighbourhood of Geelvink
and Humboldt Bays.] A complete tendril with four-rayed leaves [or
flowers] occurs as a pattern on a pottery-beater from Humboldt Bay.[64]
Trustworthy examples from further east in North New Guinea are either
absent or are as yet unrecorded. The influence of the western plant
ornament is also felt in South-west New Guinea in the district between
Kamrao and Etna Bays. The formation of a cruciform pattern through the
arrangement of four Nassa shells, which occurs not only in Geelvink Bay
but also in South-west New Guinea at Wamuka River, appears to be due to
the influence of a plant pattern, the frequent four-petalled flower.”
[63] “Holz- und Bambus-Geräthe aus Nord West Neu Guinea,”
_Dresden Ethnograph. Mus._, 1886.
[64] P. Mantegazza, “Studii antrop. ed etnogr. sulla Nuova
Guinea,” _Arch. per l’Antrop. e la Etnol._, vii., 1877, Pl. X.,
No. 914.
In the central district of British New Guinea plant forms appear to be
again met with (Fig. 21). I say “appear,” as unless there is direct
information from natives it is always risky to hazard a guess as to
the meaning of a particular design. The reason for these designs is at
present quite obscure, but there can be no doubt that there is a reason
for them, and a good one too.
Where plants are represented by savage peoples we shall probably find
that as a rule their employment is primarily due to other causes than
the selection of beautiful forms and graceful curves for their own
sakes. A very good example of this is found among the magic patterns
on the combs of the Negritos of Malacca, and I would refer the reader
to the section on Sympathetic Magic (p. 235), where this is dealt with
at considerable length. It may be that this four-rayed flower which is
credited with magical properties is the same which, as Dr. Uhle has
pointed out, is so widely spread in the decorative art of the Malay
Archipelago and Northern New Guinea.
Few plants have penetrated into the psychical life of man to the same
extent as the lotus. The food-plants, which afford sustenance to his
body, rarely, as such, enter the portals of art. Even those used in
fermentation do not necessarily fare much better. The chief exception
is the vine, which from its graceful habit of growth and its decorative
leaves and clusters of grapes readily lends itself to artistic
treatment, but in this case it was probably on account of the “wine
that maketh glad the heart of man,” rather than the beauty of the vine,
that this creeper became a favourite motive in decorative art. Having
once effected an entrance by appealing to the lower senses, the vine
retained its position by gratifying the higher. This chapter in the
history of art has, however, yet to be written.
Neither mere utility nor intrinsic beauty appear to be a necessary
qualification for the establishing of plant-life in decorative art. It
is only, so to speak, when plants are provided with a soul, when an
inner meaning is read into them, that they become immortalised.
The best example of this is found in the history of the lotus in
decorative art. Religion introduced it, symbolism established it, and
habit or expectancy retained it.
_The Lotus and its Wanderings._
As many mistakes have arisen from the confusion of the Egyptian lotus
with the rose water-lily it is necessary to clearly distinguish between
them.
The White lotus (_Nymphæa lotus_) and the Blue lotus (_N. cœrulea_),
which is only a colour variety of the former, have a disc-like leaf,
cleft nearly to its centre, which floats on the surface of the water.
The calyx has only four coarse sepals which are dark green in colour,
and which entirely encase the bud until it begins to open. As it
expands the delicate white or sapphire blue petals offer a marked
contrast to the sepals. From four points of view of the open flower a
central and two lateral sepals will be evident, often when the flower
begins to fade the sepals bend downwards, but the petals do not expand
to a greater extent than is shown in the accompanying figure (Fig. 70),
in which will also be seen the characteristic seed-capsule with its
rosette-like apex.
[Illustration: FIG. 70.—Rough sketch of the Egyptian lotus (_Nymphæa
lotus_); after original drawings by Professor Goodyear.]
The rose water-lily, or water-bean (_Nelumbium speciosum_), according
to Professor Goodyear,[65] is not represented in Egyptian pattern
ornament. Its leaves (Fig. 71), standing erect out of the water,
are bell-shaped and not slit. The calyx has numerous, over-lapping,
scale-like sepals. The flower opens widely and the broad petals
disappear from view by the expansion of the blossom. The seed-pod
resembles the spout of a watering-pot. Sir J. G. Wilkinson says,[66]
“The Nelumbium, common in India, grows no longer in Egypt, and the care
taken in planting it formerly seems to show it was not indigenous in
Egypt.”
[65] W. H. Goodyear, _The Grammar of the Lotus_, 1891.
[66] J. G. Wilkinson, _The Manners and Customs of the Ancient
Egyptians_, ii. (3rd edition), p. 407.
[Illustration: FIG. 71.—Sketch of the Indian lotus (_Nelumbium
speciosum_); after _Description de l’Egypt: Histoire Naturelle_, from
Goodyear.]
In every book dealing with Ancient Egypt numerous figures of the lotus
will be noticed either in scenes illustrating the cult of some divinity
and as sacred symbols, or in later times employed merely for decorative
effect. The same remark applies, though to a less extent, to the art
of Chaldea, Assyria, Persia, India, Phœnicia, and several of the
Mediterranean countries.
Why should this motive be so widely spread? The most obvious answer
has already been suggested. Religion introduced the lotus to art. We
have already noticed the earthly original, now allusion must be briefly
made to its symbolism; then its original home must be sought; and
finally, some of its wanderings traced, and a few of its variations and
transformations noted.
It appears that in Ancient Egypt the lotus was symbolic of the sun; a
text at Denderah says, “The Sun, which was from the beginning, rises
like a hawk from the midst of its lotus bud. When the doors of its
leaves open in sapphire-coloured brilliancy, it has divided the night
from the day.”[67] At Denderah a king makes an offering of the lotus
to the Sun-god, Horus, with the words, “I offer thee the flower which
was in the beginning, the glorious lily of the Great Water.”[68]
[67] Brugsch, _Religion und Mythologie der Alten Ægypter_, i.
p. 103; cf. Goodyear, p. 6.
[68] Brugsch, _Religion_, etc., i. p. 121; _loc. cit._, p. 6.
[Illustration: FIG. 72.—Lotus flowers and bud, painted on the coffin of
a mummy from the Necropolis of Thebes, Twentieth Dynasty; after Prisse
d’Avennes.]
Fig. 72 is a detail taken from a plate in the second volume of the
magnificent atlas by Prisse d’Avennes;[69] it is part of the offerings
on an altar before Osiris, who is crowned with the solar disc. Osiris
is the sun in the Lower World—_i.e._, during the night, and the father
of Horus. Horus is sometimes depicted seated on a lotus.
[69] _Histoire de l’Art Egyptien d’après les Monuments_, 1878.
The various animals which were symbolic of the sun or associated with
sun-divinities are also placed in direct connection with the lotus, as
if to emphasise its solar significance; for example—
The solar-bull is well recognised in Egyptian mythology, the Bull-god
Apis being an incarnation of Osiris, and an offspring of the Sun-god,
Ptah of Memphis. Similarly also for Assyria, Merodach, “the Bull of
Light,” was originally a Sun-god; his Syrian equivalent was Baal. The
Phœnician Moon-goddess, Astarte, had the bull as her symbol, and the
bull of Europa was its counterpart. The Taurus of the Chaldean Zodiac
commenced the year.
The lion was another sun-animal both in Egypt and in Chaldea and
Assyria.
Among birds the hawk and the eagle were sun symbols, especially
the former, and it is sometimes depicted standing on a lotus. The
solar-goose is also important in its association with the lotus. (Fig.
129, G.)
In early Cyprian pottery we find lotus derivatives grouped with the
solar cross and other symbols of the sun. (Fig. 129, F.)
The association of the lotus with the sun probably led to its other
symbolic relations, and these latter have rather drawn attention away
from what is here regarded as the more primitive symbol.
The lotus was a well recognised symbol of life, resurrection, and
immortality. It was largely employed in funeral rites in Egypt,
and is constantly associated with mummies, and also symbolised the
resurrection, but this latter idea was associated in the Egyptian mind
with reproductive power, and hence the relation of this also to the
lotus. Professor Maspero says:[70] “The assimilation and occasional
complete identity of the Supreme God with the sun being once admitted,
the assimilation and complete identity of the secondary divine beings
with Ra (the sun) were a matter of course. Amon, Osiris, Horus, Ptah,
were regarded sometimes as the living soul of Ra, sometimes as Ra
himself.” From this would result a mingling and extension of symbolism;
but upon these troubled waters the lotus calmly rides supreme. Its
association with the sun, its connection with reproductive energy, its
descent into the grave, and its symbolism of a resurrection have given
to the lotus that immortality which it symbolised.
[70] Maspero, _Histoire ancienne des Peuples de l’Orient_,
p. 31, cf. Goodyear, p. 11.
Although lotus designs are profusely scattered up and down in Egyptian
art there is no reason for believing that the Egyptians regarded it
as a national emblem, but it was a universally recognised symbol. At
the beginning of the year it sprouted from its slimy bed and floated
beautiful and pure on the surface of the waters. At sunrise the buds
opened and studded the water with white or cerulean asters, which
closed when night fell. Every autumn it died its annual death only as
prelude to the vernal resurrection.
The intensely religious mind of the Ancient Egyptians was permeated
with the problems of death and elevated by the prospect of immortality.
Resurrection and future bliss were articles of firm faith, not merely
a pious hope. What wonder then, with this religious saturation of
immortality, that the flower which symbolised the resurrection should
be depicted in such profusion in their tombs and elsewhere!
If the reader will take the trouble to compare lotus representations in
books on Egyptology it will be beyond dispute that it is the white or
blue lotus (Nymphæa), and not the rose water-lily (Nelumbium), which is
so ubiquitously delineated.
[Illustration: FIG. 73.—Lotus flower with two leaves, on a vase from
the Necropolis of Memphis, Fourth to Fifth Dynasties; after Prisse
d’Avennes.]
A slightly conventionalised lotus with two of its leaves (Fig. 73) is
drawn on a vase contemporaneous with the pyramids, from the Necropolis
of Memphis (Fourth and Fifth Dynasties, 3998-3503 B.C.).
The same lotus flower (Fig. 72) appears some two thousand years later
in a representation of an offering to Osiris from the Necropolis of
Thebes belonging to the Twentieth Dynasty. Indeed, it was painted and
carved so frequently for thousands of years that it would be impossible
to describe its variations and applications. I must, however, permit
myself to allude to one or two examples which are interesting from
other points of view. In Plate VIII., Fig. 12, we see single lotus
flowers employed in an isolated manner in a border pattern, and
alternating with these is another device. The separation of the
elements of a border pattern is by no means universal in Egyptian
decorative art; for example, the scroll pattern (Fig. 74) from the
Necropolis of Thebes is a good example of a pattern which gives an idea
of flow, but even here there is a lack of continuity in the spiral band
which creates a feeling of dissatisfaction when one attempts to trace
out the construction of the design. It is evident that in such patterns
the spiral is quite a secondary motive, and it thus has not been worked
out logically; the lotus flowers and the rosettes are the essential
elements of the pattern.
[Illustration: FIG. 74.—Lotus border; from Goodyear, after Prisse
d’Avennes.]
With the last figure we may compare the scroll detail (Fig. 75) from a
Melian vase, the lotus flower being represented by four black marks,
and the scroll has acquired that development which is so characteristic
of Ægean art.
[Illustration: FIG. 75.—Lotus scroll detail on a Melian vase; from
Goodyear, after Conze.]
Various causes may lead to the evolution of a recognised scheme of
decoration of certain objects, but when a new class of objects is to
be decorated the artist has a chance to exhibit his originality; even
so this is about the last thing which decorative artists do manifest.
The constraint of custom appears to exert an influence too potent to
be readily snapped, and so the Egyptian decorator, being further tied
by religious sentiment, ornamented even extensive areas, such as the
ceilings of tombs, with lotus designs, the main elements of which had
been elaborated elsewhere.
[Illustration: FIG. 76.—Pattern from the ceiling of a tomb, Necropolis
of Thebes, Eighteenth Dynasty; from Coffey, after Prisse d’Avennes.]
In Fig. 76 we have a ceiling design in which the lotus is very apparent
both in flower and bud; the rosettes, like spiders’ webs, may possibly
represent the leaves of the lotus (Fig. 70), and we have the same
interlocking but discontinuous spirals that occur in Fig. 74.
A different treatment of the same motive is seen in Fig. 77, but here
only the lotus flowers and the interlocking scrolls are employed. Below
each flower is a fan-like portion apparently tied on to the former;
this may have some significance or it may be merely a convenient method
of finishing off the flower.
[Illustration: FIG. 77.—Pattern from the ceiling of a tomb, Necropolis
of Thebes, Eighteenth to Nineteenth Dynasties; from Coffey, after
Prisse d’Avennes.]
In these old Egyptian designs the rosette is often associated with the
lotus and lotus derivatives, as in Fig. 74; and it may happen, as in
Fig. 78, that the former is the most prominent motive. The lotus is
here represented solely by the black triangles which occupy the angles
of the quadrangular spaces which contain the rosettes; at all events
there is good evidence to support this view.
The angularisation of the last pattern gives us Fig. 79, which many
people would imagine to be Greek, although, as a matter of fact, it is
ancient Egyptian. The rosettes and the angled scrolls alone persist.
We cannot speak with certainty as to the reason for the modification
of the scrolls, but it is probable that it resulted from an attempt
to copy such a painted design as Fig. 78 in textiles, and the pattern
metamorphosed by the new conditions was painted on the tomb ceilings
along with its more flowing progenitor. For further examples of
analogous transference of designs from one technique to another, and
their consequent transformation, the reader is referred to p. 112.
[Illustration: FIG. 78.—Pattern from the ceiling of tomb No. 33,
Abd-el-Kourneh, Thebes, Seventeenth to Twentieth Dynasties; from
Coffey, after Prisse d’Avennes and Goodyear.]
[Illustration: FIG. 79.—Pattern from the ceiling of a tomb from
Thebes, Seventeenth to Twentieth Dynasties; from Coffey, after Prisse
d’Avennes.]
Professor Flinders Petrie has stated that the scroll or spiral was
one of the greatest factors in the early development of ornament,
and only second to the lotus in the part it played in the decorative
ideas of the ancient world. What it symbolised, if symbolise anything
it did, we know not. Some affect to see in it a representation of the
wanderings of the soul, but why, as Professor Petrie suggests, some
souls should come to the end of their wanderings in a spiral and others
in an oval is not explained. Its oldest use was on the scarabs, where
it was clearly used first as “filling-in” ornament. We can first trace
it about 3,500 B.C. At first in loose unconnected “C” and “S” links,
and afterwards in every variety of combination, continuous as well as
unconnected, the scroll line winds its way for ages through the records
of Egyptian decoration. Yet there is a clear margin of 1000 years at
least between any Egyptian date of its use and its appearance in the
art of other ancient countries. From the fact that it is generally
coloured yellow in Egyptian designs, Professor Petrie infers that
gold was used in these forms to enclose gems, cloisonné and coloured
stones; indeed Schliemann found such work in his explorations at Mycenæ.
Mr. Arthur Evans remarks:[71]—“On the twelfth dynasty [about between
2778 and 2565 B.C.] scarabs the returning spiral motive, as is well
known to Egyptologists, was developed to an extraordinary degree.
These purely spiral types, like the twelfth dynasty motives, were also
copied by the native Cretan engravers. From Crete, where we find these
Aegean forms in actual juxtaposition with their Egyptian prototypes,
we can trace them to the early cemeteries of Amorgos, and here and in
other Aegean islands like Melos can see them taking before our eyes
more elaborate developments. Reinforced a thousand years later by
renewed intimacy of contact between the Aegean peoples and the Egypt
of Amenophis III., the same system was to regain a fresh vitality as
the principal motive of the Mycenæan goldsmith’s work. But though this
later influence reacted on Mycenæan art [about 1500 B.C.], as can be
seen by the Orchomenos ceiling, the root of its spiral decoration is to
be found in the earlier ‘Aegean’ system engrafted long before, in the
days of the twelfth dynasty.
[71] A. J. Evans, “Primitive Pictographs and a Prae-Phœnician
Script, from Crete and the Peloponnese,” _Journ. Hellenic
Studies_, xiv., 1894, p. 328.
“In the wake of early commerce the same spiraliform motives were to
spread still further afield to the Danubian basin, and thence in turn
by the valley of the Elbe to the Amber Coast of the North Sea, there
to supply the Scandinavian Bronze Age population with their leading
decorative designs. Adopted by the Celtic tribes in the Central
European area, they took at a somewhat later date a westerly turn,
reached Britain with the invading Belgae, and finally survived in Irish
Art.”[72]
[72] Cf. also G. Coffey, “The Origins of Prehistoric Ornament
in Ireland,” _Journ. Roy. Soc. Ant. Ireland_, 1894, 1895.
Among the most frequent of the decorative designs employed by the
Assyrians are the knop (or bud) and flower pattern and the rosette, and
usually these are found in combination. For the former design I shall
employ the Greek term “Anthemion.”
“That flower,” write MM. Perrot and Chipiez,[73] “has been recognised
as the Egyptian lotus, but Layard believes its type to have been
furnished, perhaps, by a scarlet tulip which is very common towards
the beginning of spring in Mesopotamia.[74] We ourselves believe
rather in the imitation of a motive from the stuffs, the jewels, the
furniture, and the pottery that Mesopotamia drew from Egypt at a very
early date through the intermediary of the Phœnicians. The Phœnicians
themselves appropriated the same motive and introduced it with their
own manufactures, not only into Mesopotamia but into every country
washed by the Mediterranean. Our conjecture is to some extent confirmed
by an observation of Sir H. Layard’s. This lotus flower is only to be
found, he says, in the most recent of Assyrian monuments, in those,
namely, that date from the eighth and seventh centuries B.C., centuries
during which the Assyrian kings more than once invaded Phœnicia and
occupied Egypt.[75] In the more ancient bas-reliefs, flowers with a
very different aspect—copied in all probability direct from nature—are
alone to be found.
[73] G. Perrot and C. Chipiez, _A History of Art in Chaldæa and
Assyria_, 1884, i. p. 303.
[74] A. H. Layard, _Discoveries in the Ruins of Nineveh and
Babylon_, i. p. 184, note.
[75] _Nineveh and its Remains_, ii. p. 212, note.
“The lotus flower is to be found, moreover, in monuments much older
than those of the Sargonids, but that does not in any way disprove the
hypothesis of a direct plagiarism. The commercial relations between
the valleys of the Nile and the Euphrates date from a much more remote
epoch, and about the commencement of the eighteenth dynasty the
Egyptians seem to have occupied in force the basin of the Khabour,
the principal affluent of the Euphrates. Layard found many traces of
their passage over and sojourn in that district, among them a series
of scarabs, many of which bore the superscription of Thothmes III.
[1481-1449 B.C.]. So that the points of contact were numerous enough,
and the mutual intercourse sufficiently intimate and prolonged, to
account for the assimilation by Mesopotamian artists of a motive taken
from the flora of Egypt, and to be seen on almost every object imported
from the Nile Valley. This imitation appears all the more probable as
in the paintings of Theban tombs, dating from a much more remote period
than the oldest Ninevite remains, the pattern with its alternate bud
and flower is complete (Plate VIII., Fig. 12).
“The Assyrians borrowed their motive from Egypt, but they gave it
more than Egyptian perfection. They gave it the definite shapes that
even Greece did not disdain to copy. In the Egyptian frieze the cones
and flowers are disjointed; their isolation is unsatisfactory both to
the eye and the reason. In the Assyrian pattern they are attached to
a continuous undulating stem, whose sinuous lines add greatly to the
elegance of the composition.”
While admitting that the lotus motive overran Assyrian art, there is
reason to believe that it did so only because there was an antecedent
style upon which it could be engrafted. The pattern shown in Fig. 10,
Plate VIII., is an example of an Assyrian anthemion engraved on an
ivory panel in the British Museum, and of purely Assyrian workmanship.
It is worth while attempting to trace this back as far as possible. In
Fig. 4, Plate VIII., we have a pattern painted in red, blue, white, and
yellow upon plaster, discovered by Sir Henry Layard in Nebuchadnezzar’s
palace in Nineveh. In this there is a serial repetition of a disc, or
sphere, which is pendant; all the pendants are connected by a single
cord, which appears as if it were drawn into loops by their weight.
In Fig. 7, Plate VIII., we have a representation from a stone carving
of an Assyrian pavilion, and in Fig. 2 a “tabernacle” from the famous
bronze gates of Balawat, which were made for Shalmaneser II., and are
now in the British Museum. Yet more simple is the tasselled canopy
(Fig. 6) from an enamelled brick from Nimroud, a king who is standing
under this canopy has a fringe (Fig. 5) to his robe which is composed
of alternate white and yellow tassels. King Sargon (about 722 B.C.)
is also represented on a relief from Khorsabad in the Louvre, with a
similar fringe (Fig. 1) to the hem of his robe.
Any one who has done any plaiting in bands of two colours knows that
if the intersections be truly alternate the fringe along the opposite
borders will all be of the same colour as in A, Plate VIII., but if
the colours run in stripes the fringe all round will be composed of
alternate patches of colour. When bands composed of several threads
are employed, it is necessary to knot the strands together at the edge
to prevent fraying. A more pleasing border is formed by taking half
the strands of one band and tying them to half the strands of the next
band of the same colour, and so on (B, Plate VIII.). By this means we
naturally obtain a structural root-like origin for each tassel in the
fringe, which may be termed the connecting strand. This appears to have
been the common method of finishing off the edge of Assyrian textiles.
There is thus no difficulty in accounting for a fringe of tassels
(Figs. 1, 5, Plate VIII.). Awnings (Fig. 6) as a protection from the
blazing sun were a very common feature in Assyrian life. When the king
went out on warlike or hunting expeditions he took with him a large
royal tent or pavilion made of “slender columns with rich capitals
and a domed roof, made, no doubt, of several skins sewn together,
and kept in place by metal weights.[76] The pavilion (Fig. 7) was a
civil edifice, the temporary resting-place of the sovereign. The same
materials were employed in the same spirit in the erection of religious
tabernacles” (Fig. 2). It is, however, probable that brightly-woven
rugs or mats were employed for the smaller canopies; these would even
more require the employment of weights to prevent the wind from blowing
about the covering. One can hardly interpret the pendants on the royal
pavilion (Fig. 7) in any other manner than as weights to steady the
awning. The pendants would in the case of textiles be fastened on to
the tassels, probably they would sometimes be placed on alternate
tassels. In the pavilion so often referred to the weight pendants are
of two shapes, in this also carrying out that alternate arrangement
which manifests itself structurally in most textiles, and which
consequently gives rise to the feeling of expectancy in other objects.
Another example of this is seen in the representation of the vine in
Assyrian art, for the decorative sentiment has so possessed the artists
as to cause them to depict the branches with a leaf and a bunch of
grapes in regular succession.
[76] Perrot and Chipiez, _Assyria_, i. p. 194.
There is no need to go further than this for the origin of the Assyrian
anthemion. We find a fringe of tassels in alternate colours, we find a
fringe of canopy weights of alternate design, we assume an occasional
alternation of fringe and weight. In all cases these must be serially
united by the “connecting strand.” How can the stone-carver or the
wall-decorator represent these three alternatives? Clearly they would
indicate rather than imitate them. What greater realism could we expect
than that which we have?
There are many ways of making tassels—for example, each one may be
allowed to splay out fan-wise, or it may be tightly tied round the
middle, or bound round so as to form a kind of cone or spindle.
Whether as variously tied, or differently coloured tassels, or
as alternate tassel and weight, a border of alternate members
organically springing from a common base was constantly before the
sight of the artists of this great textile manufacturing people. The
conventionalising tendency of decorative art did the rest, and the
various forms of Assyrian anthemion would easily follow.
A triple alternation (Fig. 9, Plate VIII.) occurs on an enamelled brick
tile from Nimroud in the British Museum. It is characteristically
Assyrian in style, but it does not give that effect of repose and
satisfied expectancy which we demand from a pattern, and in this
respect we cannot regard it as eminently successful.
If this hypothesis of Dr. March’s of the evolution of the Assyrian
anthemion be correct, this pattern is essentially a skeuomorph, but at
the same time certain local plant-forms were probably associated with
it.
Let us now turn to the border pattern (Fig. 8, Plate VIII.) of the
carved stone thresholds, which are occasionally found in a marvellous
state of preservation. Here we have a “knop and flower pattern” which
differs as much from the Assyrian style as it resembles that of Egypt.
A comparison of this figure with Fig. 12, Plate VIII., will convince
most people that borrowing has taken place. It is not always easy to
determine how far the Assyrian anthemion has been influenced by native
foliage or by conventional designs derived from the local flora. In
these threshold borders, however, the Egyptian phyllomorph has grown,
as Dr. March points out, like a floral parasite on a skeuomorphic
basis. As introduced plants frequently overrun a new country and crowd
out native forms, so the lusty lotus invaded the field of Assyrian art,
and largely supplanted pre-existing phyllomorphs.
To return for a moment to the Egyptian pattern, the “proto-anthemion,”
as one may term it, is characterised by the absence of a connecting
strand, the buds and flowers springing from a basal line. My
friend, Dr. March, with his usual ingenuity, has suggested to me a
very plausible explanation of this fact. The Egyptian pattern was
phyllomorphic from the beginning, originating in symbolism it was
primitively a realistic representation of an erect water-plant.
Maspero says the decoration of each part of the Egyptian temple was in
consonance with its position. The lower parts of the walls were adorned
with long stems of lotus or papyrus—bouquets of water-plants emerging
from the water.
This then is the solution of the difficulty. The Egyptian
anthemion, derived from plants emerging from the water, has as a
rule no connecting strand. The Assyrian variety, derived from a
tassel-skeuomorph, is never without its looped base line, is primarily
pendant, and consists in the earliest stage of plants that are
non-aquatic.
The rosette (Plate VIII., Figs. 4, 8, 10) is usually stated to be an
essentially Mesopotamian device, but it is scattered up and down in
Egyptian and Mediterranean art. (Figs. 74, 78, 79, 84.) It may be
characteristic of Assyria, but it is by no means peculiar to it.
The rosette in Egypt is probably mainly a lotus-motive; the upper end
of the yellow-rayed seed-vessel may be regarded as the chief original,
but some are undoubtedly fully expanded lotus flowers seen from
above or below, or a group of buds or of flowers arranged radially.
However conventionalised it may become, the rosette is most constantly
associated with the lotus in Egypt, the land of its birth. Their
association elsewhere is only to be expected, as there would naturally
be a tendency for the rosette to accompany the knop and flower in their
migrations.
According to Professor Flinders Petrie,[77] it is even doubtful whether
the rosette was truly of vegetable origin. The use of leather-work
seemed to have greatly modified the rosette. Its primitive form did not
look floral at all, merely a circle with white dotted lines radiating
across. Later, there were concentric rings of colours, with the same
white dotted lines. The stitched leather theory explained a whole host
of peculiar ornaments that could hardly otherwise be understood.
[77] Newspaper Report of a Lecture delivered at the Royal
Institution in May 1894.
Goodyear[78] points out (p. 101) that no dated example of the rosette
is known in Assyria or Chaldea before the twelfth century B.C.—_i.e._,
on the dress of Merodach-idin-akhi, King of Babylon. It occurs with
other lotuses in Egypt on the head-dress of Nefert, a statue of the
Fourth Dynasty, 3998-3721 B.C. As previously stated, the earlier
Egyptian kings of the Eighteenth Dynasty conquered Assyria. The reign
of Thothmes III., who, according to a contemporary expression, “drew
his frontiers where he pleased,” is placed by Professor Flinders
Petrie[79] from 1481-1449 B.C. The Egyptian empire then comprised
Abyssinia, the Soudan, Nubia, Syria, Mesopotamia, part of Arabia,
Khurdistan, and Armenia.[80]
[78] _Grammar of the Lotus._
[79] W. M. Flinders Petrie, _A History of Egypt_, i., 1894,
p. 251.
[80] Perrot and Chipiez, _Egypt_, i. p. 19.
In answer to the question, How is it that the fact has been overlooked
that the rosette is as familiar a feature of Egyptian ornament as the
earliest dated remains of other ornaments? Goodyear (p. 102) says that
the answer apparently is that the rosette is very abundantly known on
carved slabs from Nineveh, while the architectural surface carvings in
Egypt are almost absolutely destitute of rosette ornament, but it is
very frequently represented in tomb paintings.
Those who have argued for the Assyrian origin of the rosette appear
to have only compared the stone carvings of the two countries in
question, but it is well known that no borrowing of architecture took
place. There is evidence that portable objects were traded from Egypt
to Mesopotamia, and there is no doubt that the purely decorative
mural paintings of Egyptian tombs were analogous to the patterns on
Egyptian textiles, and these were traded to the East. The thresholds
from Assyria were undoubtedly carved in imitation of rugs; from the
monuments we may suppose that the walls were often decorated with woven
stuffs, the ornamentation of which was transferred to stone and glazed
bricks. We may then come to the conclusion that the mural decoration
of Assyria was affected by the designs of textiles and other portable
articles of merchandise, the idiosyncrasy of this country making itself
felt in the selection and adaptation of Egyptian originals.
In dealing with rosettes we must be very careful not to fall into the
common error of imagining that things which are similar are necessarily
the same. In the course of this book there are several examples of
the facility with which such a mistake could arise, and sometimes has
arisen. Patterns and designs must primarily be studied _in situ_, and
the wandering “from Dan to Beersheba” is to be deprecated as a method.
It is only when the indigenous material is insufficient, or fails in
its results, that the comparative method should be employed, and then
only when history, tradition, or other lines of evidence warrant its
use.
Rosettes undoubtedly occur in Egyptian decoration as well as in
Assyrian. Goodyear makes a special pleading for the derivation of
the latter from the former. The question really is—Are all Assyrian
rosettes lotus-motives which originally had their source in Egypt? Few
will doubt that Egyptian rosettes may have travelled with other lotus
derivatives to Assyria, but it is improbable that a wholly foreign
ornament should stud itself so profusely and ubiquitously over Assyrian
architecture and manufactures.
I do not profess to be able to suggest what may be the original, or
originals, of the primitive Assyrian rosette; but it does seem as if
its vitality was increased and its employment further perpetuated
by the cross-fertilisation, to speak figuratively, of the immigrant
Egyptian variety.
In studying the influence of the lotus in decorative art we have to
travel far afield, as it has left its trace even in India. The art of
modern India is, so to speak, a medley composed of foreign motives and
influences associated with native designs and religion. Under the term
“native” must be included all the artistic influences which have been
afforded by the mixed races of that vast peninsula. A very brief and
limited survey of some of the historical aspects of the question must
suffice.
In very early days “the Chaldeans, whose cry is in their ships,”
voyaged to India for commercial purposes. Proof of this is found in the
discovery of teak wood among the ruins of Mugheir. It is agreed also
that there are distinct traces of Assyrian influences in Indian art.
Sir George Birdwood[81] (ii. p. 162) says, “The researches of Mr.
Fergusson have shown that stone architecture in India does not begin
before the end of the third century B.C.;” and again (i. p. 99), “There
is no known Hindu temple older than the sixth or fifth century of the
Christian era; and all the earlier stone buildings are Buddhist.”
[81] G. C. M. Birdwood, _The Industrial Arts of India_, 1880.
The same author has come to the conclusion (i. p. 146) “that the
remarkable European character of the Buddhistic sculptures in the
Panjab and Afghanistan is due, not to Byzantine, but to Greek
influence. They are unmistakably Buddhistic sculptures, and may
therefore date from B.C. 250 to about A.D. 700; and any of them
which are later than the fourth century A.D. may have been executed
under Byzantine influence.... Dr. Leitner was the first to insist on
describing (the Buddhistic remains in the neighbourhood of Peshawar in
the Panjab) as Græco-Buddhistic sculptures.... Their resemblance is
probably due to their having been executed by Indian workmen from Greek
designs or models.”
Goodyear remarks, “At a later date Hindu art became saturated with
Mahommedan lotus patterns. These were all originally borrowed in the
countries conquered by the Mohammedan Arabs, during the seventh
century A.D., Syria, Egypt, North Africa, and Persia.” Islam swept
into her net the decorative art of the countries she conquered, and as
realism was denied to her owing to the Prophet’s injunction against
depicting human or animal forms, she had to fall back on patterns, but,
unknown to her, many of these were lotus derivatives. It was these
patterns that the Arabs brought with them to India.[82]
[82] I have a note to the following effect, the origin of
which I cannot now trace:—Art under the Mahommedans in the
first centuries appears to have been much encouraged, as many
drawings and pictures are shown, thus upsetting the general
belief that the Koran forbade the representation of human and
animal figures. The picture of a rider belonging to the period
of Arab civilisation is remarkably spirited, the folds of the
rider’s garments, as well as the figure itself, being admirably
portrayed.
“The history of India,” continues Goodyear, “thus explains why its
apparently favourite water-lily [the Nelumbium] has had so little
influence on its ornamental patterns. Although naturalistic rendering
of the rose water-lily is found in ancient and modern Oriental art, it
must be remembered that this has nothing to do with the dominance of
a pattern, which is a matter of technical tradition. It appears that
the famous Indian water-lily exercised no visible influence on the art
of Egypt, and that Egyptian patterns have invaded its own home by many
paths, at many times, borne by waves of historic influence which are
admitted to have determined the character of Hindu art since the third
century B.C., which is the first century in which this art is known to
us.”
Examples of Indian forms of the anthemion will be found on Sindh
pottery (Plate VIII., Fig. 11), on Delhi and Cashmere shawls, and on
innumerable other objects and temple carvings. If one compares the
anthemion combined with an “astragal” moulding in Fig. 80, which is
from the Lât at Allahabad, with Figs. 7 and 5, Plate V., which are
purely Greek, it will be evident that borrowing has taken place.
One cannot follow Sir George Birdwood[83] when he says this “necking
immediately below the capital represents with considerable purity
the honeysuckle ornament of the Assyrians, which the Greeks borrowed
from them with the Ionic order. Its form is derived originally from
the Date _Hom_, but it really represents, conventionally, a flowery
lotus, as the Bharhut sculptures enable us to determine. The ‘reel and
bead’ pattern running along the lower border of the necking represents
the lotus stalks.” This author does not state which lotus he refers
to, probably it is the Nelumbium or Rose water-lily, but the stalked
flowers added on each side of the central anthemion have no distinctive
character, nor can I see that the figures he gives of the Bharhut
sculptures are any more definite.
[83] G. C. M. Birdwood, _The Industrial Arts of India_, ii.,
1880, p. 167.
[Illustration: FIG. 80.—Anthemion and astragal moulding from the Lât
(stone column) at Allahabad; from Birdwood, after Fergusson.]
The Buddhist missionaries carried this pattern with them to China,
where on some of the pottery unmistakable lotus derivatives occur, and
those too of the anthemion series.
From the Orient we must retrace our steps westward. Persian art may be
left on one side, as it was largely a legacy of Assyrian.
Among the Mediterranean peoples the Phœnicians claim first attention on
account of their early assumed _rôle_ of middle-men. But as Perrot and
Chipiez remark, “In the true sense of the word we can hardly say that
Phœnicia had a national art. She built much and sculptured much, so we
cannot say she had no art at all; but if we attempt to define it, it
eludes us. Like an unstable chemical compound it dissolves into its
elements, and we recognise one as Egyptian, another as Assyrian, and
yet another, in its later years, as purely Greek. The only thing that
the Phœnicians can claim as their own is the recipe, so to speak, for
the mixture.” Herodotus tells us that the Phœnicians had in their ship
“Egyptian and Assyrian goods.”[84]
[84] G. Perrot and C. Chipiez, _Art in Phœnicia and its
Dependencies_, 1885, ii. p. 427.
Not only did the Phœnicians barter in foreign objects, but they
manufactured articles for trade, and were expert craftsmen. At the
funeral games in honour of Patroklos “the son of Peleus set forth other
prizes for fleetness of foot; a mixing-bowl of silver, chased; six
measures it held, and in beauty it was far the best in all the earth,
for artificers of Sidon wrought it cunningly, and men of the Phœnicians
brought it over the misty sea.”[85] As their home-made goods were
intended for foreign markets, they probably copied more or less exactly
from Egyptian and Assyrian sources. They were artificers rather than
original artists, their object was gain.
[85] _Iliad_, xxiii. (Lang, Leaf, & Myers.)
On the whole it appears that the Egyptian influence was more patent
on Phœnician art than that of Assyrian, but on the other hand, the
Phœnician religion was Semitic, and by this they were far more closely
allied to Chaldea and Assyrian than to Egypt.
Through far wanderings and endless trafficking the “Phœnician,
practised in deceit, a greedy knave,” as Homer dubs him, introduced
numberless objects into the Mediterranean littoral which were
ornamented with lotus designs or with patterns of lotus origin.
The great skill of the Chaldeans and Assyrians in weaving and
embroidery enabled them to produce textiles which were highly valued
wherever they found their way. The appropriation of “a goodly
Babylonish garment” from the loot of Jericho by the unfortunate Achan
shows how much these fabrics were prized. We know that the decoration
of these beautiful and precious commodities reacted on the designs of
Phœnician manufacturers, and directly or indirectly had some effect in
guiding the nascent art of Europe.
When the Greeks were a young and growing people they, like most of
their neighbours, were forced to trade with the Phœnicians they so
despised, and were thus acquainted with trade goods from Mesopotamia
and Egypt. The Ionic Greeks were more particularly influenced by
Oriental art. The designs from early Greek tombs and the spoils
recovered by the spade in recent excavations clearly show the
nationality of the foster-mothers of Greek art.
The lessons learnt in childhood are hard to forget, and so, following
the traditions of their fathers, the decorators continued to employ
the same general patterns and designs that they saw around them and
which they had inherited. For centuries we see the anthemion reproduced
in architecture (Fig. 82 and Pl. V., Fig. 7), painting, pottery,
varied it may be in detail, but essentially the same pattern. Rarely
going direct to nature for inspiration, the Greeks were content
with endless repetitions of slight variants of the one eternal and
highly unconventional design. The mental unrest of the Greeks, which
was always seeking something new, was in marked contrast to their
decorative conservatism.
When the trade of Europe was taken up by Greeks they further
disseminated this dominant motive. In less chaste form we find it in
Roman art. The Renaissance gave it, with other matters classical, a new
lease of life.
But Europe was not dependent on Greek and Roman influences alone for
the spread of the anthemion. The Crusaders brought away with them many
Oriental goods, and that, too, from the meeting-place of Europe, Asia,
and Africa. Later the Moors invaded Spain, and left as the jetsam of
their retreat a wealth of matchless decorative art, amongst which our
old patterns may also be traced.
[Illustration: FIG. 81.—Saracenic Algerian detail; from Goodyear, after
Ravoisié.]
By this time it is often flamboyant. (Fig. 81.) The isolated elements
of the design may have been the origin of the _fleur de lis_, of which
the Prince of Wales’ Feathers appear to be a variant.[86]
[86] The reader is also referred to Dr. E. Bonavia’s studies
(_The Flora of the Assyrian Monuments and its Outcomes_, 1894)
for another theoretical origin of these designs. He lays stress
on the practice of fixing horns on trees, and other places, by
the Assyrians. We not only see horns and modifications of horns
symmetrically used on the stem of their sacred trees, but we
meet with them as decorative terminations on the poles of the
royal tents (Plate VIII., Figs. 2 and 7). “They were symbols of
power against the evil eye and evil spirits” (p. 205). Sooner
or later they were sure “to have been taken up by artists,
and modified in various ways into decorations for walls of
temples, palaces, etc. And so, in truth, we see these horns, at
first probably used solely from superstitious reasons, passing
afterwards into motives for various decorative purposes” (p.
141).
“What is called the honeysuckle pattern, or anthemion, is
nothing but the date-tree head supported by horns.... This
so-called honeysuckle pattern is not, I think, the only outcome
of the superstition of tying horns on trees, for I believe
the fleur-de-lys, so much used in heraldry as a royal emblem,
and on many coats-of-arms, seems but a modified imitation of
the real horns tied on trees or posts” (p. 142). Dr. Bonavia
discusses the history of the latter motive. It appears probable
that it was introduced to French heraldry by Louis VII. on
his return from the Crusades, and it is also likely that the
device was independently associated with the lily and the iris
in various countries after its real origin had been forgotten.
(This applies equally to Goodyear’s or to Bonavia’s theory.)
“The top of the Assyrian sacred date-tree, with its supporting
horns, was probably taken up by the Greeks and modified into
ornaments for friezes.” In support of this proposition Dr.
Bonavia illustrates an anthemion from the Erechtheium (Fig. 82).
“There are numerous architectural and decorative designs which,
I think, are traceable to the Assyrian date-tree and its horns.
The Prince of Wales’ feathers are perhaps also a descendant
of the same motive. There are in it three elements held
together by means of a crown, which may be a modification of
the ligature” (p. 154). The trident and the caduceus are also
supposed by this author to be “luck-horns” attached to a wand.
It must be remembered that the ligatures are usually very
distinct in Assyrian anthemia (Plate VIII., Figs. 9 and 10),
and they require an explanation as much as any other detail
of the design. Dr. Bonavia regards them as the lashings of
luck-horns which have become modified into volutes. Dr. Colley
March, as we have seen, attributes them to a textile origin. On
the other hand, we find ligatures in Egyptian lotus designs, as
in Fig. 77, where there is no suspicion of Assyrian influence;
future research will doubtless show whether the central
ligatures in Figs. 85 and 89 A are Assyrian, Egyptian, or local
in origin.
Throughout the art of the civilised world of to-day we find repeated,
again and again, the misnamed honeysuckle pattern, or the anthemion, as
it is preferable to call it. Most of our modern examples can be traced
to Ancient Greece, but even there it had a hoary antiquity and probably
a multiple ancestry. It is not improbable that future research will
demonstrate that the history of this pattern is far more complex than
that which I have endeavoured to sketch out. Its amazing longevity may
be due to the fact that it arose from various radicles, and when the
branches met their differences were not too great to counterbalance
their resemblances, and so a fusion or mingling of elements could
easily and naturally result.
[Illustration: FIG. 82.—Ionic capital of the eastern portico of the
Erechtheium.]
[Illustration: FIG. 83.—Early form of Ionic capital from Neandreia;
after Clarke.]
Mr. Goodyear has an elaborate study of the evolution of the Ionic
capital (Fig. 82) from the anthemion. A German architect and critic,
Semper,[87] appears to have been the first to derive the Ionic capital
from the volutes of the Assyrian palmette (Pl. VIII., Figs. 9, 10) by
a process of gradual suppression of the leafy portion and increase of
the scroll. Dr. J. T. Clarke[88] supported and elaborated this theory.
At Neandreia, near Assos, in Asia Minor, he discovered an Ionic capital
(Fig. 83) which is a valuable “missing link.” But, according to Mr.
Goodyear, there is no need to seek an Assyrian origin for this capital
when all the intermediate stages can be found in Egypt and in the Greek
Islands.
[87] G. Semper, _Der Stil in den technischen und tektonischen
Künsten_ (2nd ed.), 1878.
[88] J. T. Clarke, “A Proto-Ionic Capital from the Site of
Neandreia,” _American Jour. of Archæol._, 1886, ii. p. 1.
[Illustration: FIG. 84.--Lotus design from a "geometric" vase from
Cyprus; after Goodyear.]
In Fig. 84 and Fig. 130, F, we have a lotus with curling sepals on
pots from Cyprus; no one can dispute that these are really lotuses.
The curling sepals become more spiral in Rhodian (Fig. 130, G), and
especially in Melian pottery (Fig. 85). The central rosette has now
become more leaf-like, but there are numerous true Egyptian examples
of this, as in a compound flower (Fig. 86) from a tomb ceiling, or
again (Fig. 87), on a blue-glazed lotus pendant from a necklace in
the British Museum, of the Nineteenth Dynasty. In the Owens College
Museum, Manchester, there is a somewhat similar enamel tomb amulet of
the Twelfth Dynasty (2778-2565 B.C.). The transition from these to the
stone or terra-cotta anthemion of the Parthenon (Fig. 88) is very
gradual.
[Illustration: FIG. 85.—Lotus derivative on a vase of the seventh
century B.C., from Melos; from Goodyear, after Conze.]
[Illustration: FIG. 86.—Compound flower, based on the lotus, Thebes,
Eighteenth to Twentieth Dynasties; from Goodyear, after Prisse
d’Avennes.]
Thus, according to this view, the volute of the Ionic capital is
merely a drooping lotus sepal, which became spiral in the Grecian
Archipelago. Many of the Ionic capitals, especially the earlier ones,
exhibit distinct traces of the central palmette, but eventually only
the spirals persisted, and the cleft between the curling sepals was
gradually reduced so that their stems came to appear as a transverse
band ending in volutes.
[Illustration: FIG. 87.—Lotus pendant from an Egyptian necklace of the
Nineteenth Dynasty; after Goodyear.]
[Illustration: FIG. 88.—Anthemion from the Parthenon.]
In following this view of the history of the Ionic capital we have
practically traversed that of the anthemion. The more typical examples
of this pattern not only present us with the element which we have
already briefly studied, but alternating with it is a trefoil. For
this again there are any number of Egyptian originals in which the
trefoil indicates a lotus flower; in this case all the petals have been
eliminated and only the sepals persist.
Lack of time prevents me from attempting to follow the fascinating
evolution of various patterns and designs which adorn Grecian temples
and vases; but I must permit myself to indicate a probable origin of an
exceedingly common pattern which has also overrun our own art. I refer
to the so-called egg-and-dart moulding of Greek entablatures (Plate V.,
Fig. 5), and the same motive painted on vases or moulded on the later
Samian ware (Plate V., Fig. 6). In these two figures the pattern is
drawn in its usual position, but, the better to follow the argument,
a typical variety is figured (Fig. 89) reversed. There are many
varieties, from a series of =U=-shaped figures with alternating dots,
as many Greek vases (Fig. 89, E), through the Samian device (Plate V.,
Fig. 6) and Erechtheium variety (Fig. 82 and Plate V., Fig. 5), to
others in which there is greater complexity and more floral forms (Fig.
89, D).
With any given series of designs it is possible to begin at either
end—in the one case there is an ascending evolution, in the other a
degeneration. Students of the biological method of treating decorative
art will recognise that the latter is by far the most general order in
the evolution of patterns, and by adopting it in this case Professor
Goodyear has been able to demonstrate the life-history of this pattern
to the satisfaction of many students.
In Fig. 89, A, we have a typical lotus flower and bud pattern or Greek
pattern from Rhodes; the same design occurs in a simplified form on a
fragment of Greek pottery from Naukratis (Fig. 89, B),[89] in which the
lotus flower is now a lotus trefoil; and in Fig. 89, C, the pattern is
disrupted.
[89] W. M. Flinders Petrie, _Naukratis_, i., 1884-85; _Egyptian
Exploration Fund_, 1886, Plate VII., Figs. 1, 6.
[Illustration: FIG. 89.—Hypothetical derivation of the “egg-and-dart”
moulding from a lotus pattern; according to Goodyear.
A. Lotus anthemion on a vessel from Rhodes; after Salzmann.
B, C. Lotus anthemia on pottery from Naukratis; after Flinders Petrie.
D. Egg-and-dart moulding from the Erechtheium.
E. Degraded egg-and-dart pattern painted on a Grecian vase.]
In Greek vases we usually find that decoration has been made with a
fine feeling for appropriateness; thus the erect anthemion occurs when
the vase is swelling, but where it is contracting an inverted anthemion
is placed, because the decorative lines thus widen to correspond with
the expansion of the vase. Again, in Egyptian tomb ceilings the
bordering lotus pattern is inverted, as the base line of the design
naturally is made to correspond with the peripheral line of the
ceiling—in other words, the lotus anthemion was inverted.
We have then a painted lotus bud and trefoil pattern which was often
inverted and as often a simple design. According to this view, the egg
of the egg-and-dart pattern is simply a semi-oval left between two
lotus trefoils, the dart being the central sepal. When this design
came to be incised in stone, the new technique very slightly modified
the pattern, and the flat oval areas necessarily came to be carved
as rounded or leaf-shaped projections. On these latter occasionally
appear reminiscences of the intervening buds, as on the Erechtheium
leaf-and-dart moulding. Many variants occur in this device, especially
in Roman sculpture.
Professor Goodyear points out that the egg-and-dart moulding as such
is unknown to Egyptian patterns, owing to the almost entire absence
in Egyptian art of carved or incised lotus borders of any kind, a
preference for flat ornament in colour being the rule. Stone carved
patterns of any kind in Egyptian art are quite rare before the
Ptolemaic period. In Greek art the absence of patterns in projected
carving is also a general rule down to the time of the Erechtheium.
In Greek art also colour decoration on flat surfaces was the rule in
architecture for earlier periods; for example, a leaf-and-dart pattern
was painted on a Doric capital in Ægina.[90]
[90] W. H. Goodyear, “Origin of the Acanthus motive and
Egg-and-Dart Moulding,” _The Architectural Record_, iv., 1894,
p. 88.
“The Ionic capital, the ‘honey-suckle,’ the egg-and-dart moulding, the
meander, the various forms of spiral ornament, the guilloche and the
rosette, and some few other motives, belong to one ornamental system,
and have never been used in Europe, apart from historic connections
with their original system, since the Greeks, and have never been used
in Europe since prehistoric ages, without distinct dependance on
the Greeks. As found with the Greeks they can all be traced back to
Egyptian sources; except the guilloche, which is only the later variant
of the spiral scroll. The guilloche pattern has been found in Egypt on
pottery dated to the Twelfth Dynasty (2700 B.C.), which was probably
made by foreigners resident in the country, but it may easily be an
Egyptian pattern which has not yet been specified as such.
“The Egyptian rosette can be dated to the Fourth Dynasty, 3998-3721
B.C. Since that time its history has been continuous. Since its first
transmission to Europe it has never been reinvented in Europe, for
there was never an occasion or a chance to reinvent it there.
“The spiral scroll is dated to the Fifth Dynasty, and the meander (at
present) to the Thirteenth Dynasty, about 2500-2000 B.C. The Egyptian
Ionic capital is dated to the Eighteenth Dynasty, 1587-1327 B.C. The
Egyptian anthemion (‘honey-suckle’ original) is dated to the Twelfth
Dynasty (2778-2565 B.C.). A considerably higher antiquity than the
given date must be assumed in all cases.”[91]
[91] W. H. Goodyear, “Are Conventional Patterns Spontaneously
Generated,” _The Architectural Record_, ii., 1893, p. 291.
This in brief is Professor Goodyear’s theory;[92] it is ingenious,
but time will show how far it will convince students of this subject.
It is quite possible that the egg-and-dart pattern may have had a
multiple origin. Dr. Colley March is still inclined to see in it a
kind of artistic reminiscence of the ends of beams (Plate V., Fig.
1) of earlier wooden buildings; but it is highly improbable that
the conclusion arrived at by Mr. Hulme is the correct one. He says:
“The echinus, or horse-chestnut, is also called the egg-and-tongue
or egg-and-dart moulding, a variety of names that may be taken as
conclusive of the fact that it bears no great resemblance to anything
at all, but is a purely arbitrary form.”[93] The variety of names is
conclusive only of the ignorance of the name-givers as to what the
pattern originated from. In future those who write on decorative art
will have to prove that any pattern or design is a purely arbitrary
form; that assumption is no longer permissible.
[92] Prof. Goodyear acknowledges (_Grammar of Lotus_) that P.
E. Newberry had independently arrived at a similar conclusion
in 1885, and that Owen Jones in 1856 and Léon de Vesley in 1870
had suggested a lotus original for the egg-and-dart pattern.
[93] F. E. Hulme, _The Birth and Development of Ornament_,
1893, p. 86.
We have left the lotus far behind, and though it is hard to believe
that the multitudinous designs of so many ages and of such diverse
countries are all derived from the sacred flower of Ancient Egypt, yet
it may well be that the oldest stock was a lotus derivative, and that
the symbolism of that flower gave to it sufficient vitality to spread
and multiply and replenish the earth.