No part of the study of Biology is more fascinating than that which
deals with the geographical distribution of organisms, especially when
treated by such a master as Alfred Russel Wallace. The geographical
distribution of art is as yet uninvestigated, but with careful and
capable handling we may expect it to yield results not less interesting
than those of the distribution of animals. It is needless to point out
that the subject is peculiarly difficult, but as John Ray said two
hundred years ago concerning the study of Natural History, “much might
be done did we but endeavour, and nothing is insuperable to pains and
patience.”
It will not be superfluous to here indicate the general lines upon
which such an inquiry may be profitably made, taking the experience of
zoologists as our guide in this matter.
It is a matter of general experience that animals are not uniformly
scattered over the globe. The absence of all land mammals and of snakes
from New Zealand; the occurrence of the monotremes only in Australia
and New Guinea; that the American opossums are the only marsupials
found out of Australia and a few adjacent islands; the absence of bears
in Africa and of lemurs in America, are a few of the myriad cases in
point.
By tabulating the denizens of different countries, the latter can
be grouped according to their animals, and in this way zoologists
have formed zoological regions, which may be further subdivided into
sub-regions or provinces. All such divisions are characterised (1) by
their characteristic animals, (2) by their peculiar animals, and (3)
by the absence of certain groups of animals. The negative character in
this case being perhaps the most valuable one.
Organisms may in a rough manner be distributed into zones corresponding
with climate, which may be horizontal and largely dependent upon
latitude, or vertical and directly dependent upon altitude, which
varies, however, according to latitude. Such a kind of distribution is
much more manifest in plants than in animals.
Further, there is a phenomenon known as “discontinuous distribution,”
which is one of great importance. For example, the tapirs are only
found in Central America and in the Malay Archipelago, the camel group
in South America and the deserts of Asia, the ostrich group in South
America, Africa, Australia, New Guinea, and New Zealand. It is needless
to multiply examples. The explanation is simple enough. The tapirs
are representatives of old generalised ungulates of early tertiary
times that formerly lived in the northern hemisphere, but which have
since become exterminated in the region of their origin and abundance,
and have survived at only two extreme points of their old habitat.
Ancestral camels are common in the tertiary beds of North America; the
one group wandered southwards, and finding competition less keen on
the plateaux of South America, were enabled to develop into llamas,
alpacas, and so forth. The other group was modified so as to exist in
the deserts of Asia, the less specialised forms in the intermediate
countries having died out. The same general argument applies to the
ostrich group, and in the rhea of South America, the ostrich of Africa,
the cassowary of New Guinea, the emu of Australia, the diminutive
apteryx and the gigantic extinct moas of New Zealand we have outliers,
so to speak, of an extremely ancient group of birds, the other members
of which have become exterminated in the intermediate districts.
Then again, there may be what are termed “local types and species,”
forms which differ but slightly from the characteristic or “central”
type of the species, and which are restricted to special regions. For
example, in an island off a mainland there are often what are termed
“insular varieties,” and in an archipelago it is of frequent occurrence
that each island is characterised by possessing its peculiar varieties
and even peculiar species. Isolated geographical features, such as
commanding and separated mountains, may have what may equally be termed
“insular faunas,” or again, the various valleys of a mountain chain may
have appreciable faunistic differences.
The reason for this is not far to seek. These varieties differ
from others merely by being intensified by local conditions and by
isolation. Variation is more widespread than is generally supposed,
but granting freedom of intercourse over a wide area and a stability
of environment, the extreme variations are less liable to occur, and,
furthermore, it is the average organism which is the most stable. Thus
a fairly constant mean level is maintained. The isolation of portion
of such a uniform population introduces new factors, and the isolated
individuals tend to arrive at a condition of stable equilibrium which
must of necessity be different from that of the parent stem.
Colonies are probably of rare occurrence in the zoological world. By
such I mean the sudden peopling of a district by an animal new to that
part of the country. An example of how this may occur is illustrated
by the sporadic excursion into Europe of Pallas’ sand-grouse. It will
be remembered that a few years ago large numbers of this Siberian bird
made their appearance in Europe. Similar inroads are on record for past
years.
Supposing the conditions were favourable, the sand-grouse might very
well have established itself in one or more localities, and then
formed colonies in the true sense of the term. Artificial colonies are
being continually formed by man: witness the rabbits in Australia and
the pheasant in England.
The dispersion of animals is caused by the favouring conditions of
physical features, or by the carrying power of winds and currents.
The isolation of animals is also similarly caused; winds and currents
may be in such a direction as to prevent migration, and the physical
features may be otherwise unfavourable to dispersion.
We now have to apply these general remarks to the province of art, and
to see how far similar conclusions may be drawn.
The conclusions of the synthetical zoologist who studies the problems
of zoogeography, as it is sometimes called, are entirely dependent upon
the tedious labours of the analytical or systematic zoologist. General
conclusions are worth nothing if the data upon which they are erected
are untrustworthy; hence an accurate identification of the fauna of a
country is an absolutely necessary precursor to any theorising upon its
affinity.
This self-evident proposition equally applies to the geographical
distribution of art-forms. It is first of all necessary to determine
the exact nature of any given pattern or design. I have often called
attention to the danger which there is in assuming that similarity
is identity, the most instructive example of this being exhibited
in the fret-pattern group and the allied scroll-patterns. Instances
could be multiplied were it necessary. One of the main objects of the
present volume is to emphasise this fact, and to demonstrate that the
signification of a design, that is, what it really is, can only be
ascertained by an exhaustive study of that particular region where
it occurs or from whence it has been derived. Analysis must precede
synthesis. This has not yet been attempted on a large enough scale, and
so it is at present impossible to deduce wide generalisations.
Art is subject to two prime factors—(1) the solidarity of the human
race, and (2) ethnic idiosyncrasy. It is the extreme difficulty
in distinguishing between these two factors which complicates the
comparative study of customs and beliefs.
To the second of these we owe, for example, the evolution of the
various forms of fret and scroll pattern, and to the first of them
their world-wide retention as patterns.
It is difficult to avoid the expectation that whatever artistic
provinces may be defined in the future, they will ultimately prove to
be related to racial divisions.
Possibly certain stages of artistic evolution may be determined through
which the artistic development of all the more cultivated people have
passed. These stages, should they be established, are illustrations
of the solidarity of mankind, but the precise level to which the art
of particular country or district has attained, or the direction it
has taken (irrespective of the stage of development), these are ethnic
idiosyncrasies.
Before the geographical distribution of art can be mapped out it will
be necessary to accurately define the various artistic expressions, and
to discriminate between designs, which though apparently similar are
fundamentally distinct. Not till then will it be possible to determine
whether particular designs are world-wide in distribution on account of
the essential identity of human thought, or whether they are not really
different patterns which admit of being grouped into definite regions
having a more or less ethnic value.
It is not sufficient to attempt a rapid solution of this problem by
assuming that artistic and ethnic boundaries are coterminous. My study
of Papuan art indicates that the artistic expression of a people is
more delicate than the characters usually utilised by ethnologists,
and that, whereas the physical anthropologist can at present barely
distinguish between the natives of contiguous districts, their art at
once suggests distinctions, and then a fresh appeal has to be made to
the physical anthropologist for a more searching investigation.
On the other hand, there is no doubt that in some countries art is more
uniform, certainly so in countries which have long been civilised.
In Australia the art appears to be very uniform, this may be chiefly
due to the fact that the Australians, though subdivided into numerous
tribes, are nevertheless a very homogeneous people.[204] It is true
that some anthropologists have sought to distinguish primitive
divisions among these people; but these endeavours have not yet been
thoroughly established, and no investigations have as yet been made
as to whether the arts and crafts of the Australians support these
conclusions. Another factor in the uniformity of Australian art arises
from the fact that all the Australians are virtually on the same level
of evolution. The uniformity of condition of life and environment
induces uniformity in art.
[204] I by no means wish to imply that a homogeneous people
implies a pure race; a people composed of several elements, if
well mixed up and isolated for a long time, may become fairly
homogeneous.
This latter fact may account for the general resemblance in artistic
treatment which yet more distinct peoples may exhibit who live under
very similar conditions; their ethnic idiosyncrasy may be levelled by
the monotony of their environment.
Lastly, uniformity may be arrived at, as in most civilised countries
of to-day, by continual and rapid intercourse between peoples. It is
just this condition, together with a certain amount of stability in the
environment, which makes for the uniformity and fixation of species in
the animal world.
I am inclined to believe in an ethnical feeling for art, but much more
work will have to be done to establish this as a fact. In our detailed
study of the decorative art of British New Guinea we find a sudden and
very characteristic change in Papuan art when we come to the Massim
district. The characteristic Papuan ornamentation by means of straight
lines and angles suddenly gives way to a variety of scrolls and loops,
straight lines, except as bounding a pattern, rarely occur, and angles
are more rare than bowed lines are in other parts of New Guinea. The
_facies_ of the style of decoration is exactly reversed. This surely
has a deeper significance than tribal distinction, and it was noticing
this fact which first led me to study New Guinea art. The explanation
which suggested itself to me was one which subsequent investigation
has confirmed—namely, that it is one expression of the influence of a
foreign race on the Papuans of the region in question. Professor E.
T. Hamy has marshalled numerous facts in support of this view in an
able paper (“Étude sur les Papouas de la Mer d’Entrecasteaux,” _Revue
d’Ethnographie_, vii., 1888, pp. 503-519), to which I have already
referred.
So far then as present evidence goes, we may assert that the
ornamentation of the indigenes of New Guinea is essentially composed
of straight lines and angles. The characteristic fretwork and carving
of Netherlands New Guinea—notably that of Geelvink Bay—is clearly due
to foreign influence. The same also applies, as we have just seen, to
the opposite corner of New Guinea. Future research must determine the
amount and geographical extension of analogous influences in these
portions of New Guinea, and also extend this line of inquiry to other
parts of the world.
In seeking to establish artistic provinces we must note (1) the
characteristic forms and designs, (2) those that are peculiar to the
district, and (3) the deficiencies.
To take examples:—(1) the white lotus (_Nymphæa lotus_) is as
decidedly characteristic of the decorative art of Ancient Egypt as
the frigate-bird is of that of the Solomon Islands or of the Massim
district of British New Guinea; but these are not peculiar to these
districts, as both the lotus and the frigate-bird motives extend beyond
the regions named.
(2) The employment of highly conventionalised and degenerate human
figures to cover comparatively large areas is, so far as I am
aware, peculiar to the Hervey Group,[205] as also is the device of
nature-printed ferns on tapa in certain Polynesian islands.
[205] Dr. W. Hein has just published a well illustrated paper
on anthropomorphic designs among the Dyaks (Borneo), _Ann. k.k.
nat. Hofmuseums_, Vienna, x., 1895, p. 94.
(3) The absence of the frigate-bird as a decorative motive throughout
the greater part of British New Guinea is as important a fact as its
presence in a comparatively small district. The absence of scroll
designs, and practically of sigmoid lines, in Torres Straits and Daudai
and throughout the greater part of the Central District of British New
Guinea, is as significant as their occurrence in the Massim district;
or their general absence in Eastern Polynesia with their prevalence in
New Zealand.
What is known as a zonal distribution in organisms only occurs in
anthropology when a district is inhabited by different peoples that
live concentrically to one another. Such, for example, as the Negritto
populations which inhabit the centre of the Mollaccan Peninsula or
the centre of some of the islands of the Malay Archipelago and are
surrounded by Malay peoples; here we have a core, so to speak, of one
type of decorative art surrounded by a different type.
Discontinuous distribution occurs in art as well as zoology, and
the solution of each problem must be attempted from the scientific
standpoint.
A good example of such a problem is to be found in the distribution
of the fret and scroll patterns to which I have frequently alluded.
Further study is necessary before we can say definitely whether a given
fret or meander pattern has been independently evolved, or whether it
has spread from elsewhere. In our study the problem is more complicated
than in zoology, for a multiple origin of a given design or pattern
is always possible and often probable, whereas this is not known to
occur for a single species of animal. Discontinuity in distribution
in ethnography may mean either that the form has a multiple origin or
that it has migrated without establishing itself in the intermediate
districts, or that it has disappeared from those districts.
It is evident that every pattern or set of patterns in the first
instance has to be separately studied in a limited area, in order to
determine whether it is of indigenous or foreign origin. No casual
application of general principles will suffice, for it is possible
that in certain cases a design may be apparently fairly uniformly
distributed over a certain area, and on the face of it one might be
tempted to regard this as a case of uniform distribution, whereas on a
more minute examination it may be found that the designs are analogues
and not homologues, that they have spread from different centres
of origin, and thus the apparent uniformity of distribution may be
essentially invalid. I suspect this is largely the case in the meander
and scroll patterns.
We often find that a particular type of decoration occurs over a
certain area, but within the limits of that district there are several
distinct varieties. Students at home usually have a great difficulty in
studying this problem owing to the very imperfect and unsatisfactory
way in which objects are labelled by collectors. In my memoir on _The
Decorative Art of British New Guinea_ I have attempted to work out
the local varieties both of form and decoration of the lime spatulas
of the Massim district. According to the material at my disposal, it
does seem that certain types are characteristic of, if not peculiar
to, particular groups of islands. The more or less complete isolation
of tribes or peoples, owing to geographical conditions or inter-tribal
wars, is sufficient to account for local types and insular varieties,
even when the people all belong to the one stock. If that stock is
a mixed one, variations are much more likely to occur than if it is
a pure race or a people that have become homogeneous by prolonged
isolation.
Local types may, however, be due to the presence of a colony from
another district. There are numerous examples of this in Melanesia,
where colonies of Polynesians have arrived from more eastern island
groups in Oceania, and as I have pointed out, there are Melanesian
colonies in British New Guinea. To use a geological term, these are
ethnological outliers.
As decorated objects must be conveyed by man, the means for their
dispersal and the barriers which militate against it are the same as
those which operate on human migrations; but there is one difference.
Where men go we may assume that they carry their artistic efforts and
proclivities with them, but decorated objects may be carried further
than the actual distance covered by the manufacturer, or even than the
recognised middleman or trader.
This brings us to a very important aspect of the subject, and that
is the question of trade-routes. Trade-routes are culture-routes,
and in order to appreciate the history of culture it is necessary to
know the directions in which it flowed. Until we have a more complete
knowledge of the ancient trade-routes of Europe we cannot recover the
history of pre-historic Europe. The information for this is being
rapidly accumulated, and for a summary of our information I would refer
the reader to Mr. George Coffey’s “Origins of Pre-Historic Ornament
in Ireland.”[206] I would support my position with the following
quotations from Count Goblet d’Alviella:—
[206] _Journ. Roy. Soc. Antiq. of Ireland_, v. (5th ser.),
1895, p. 32; cf. also the quotation from Mr. Arthur Evans,
p. 142, _ante_.
“Whatever the similarity of form, and even of meaning, may be between
two symbolic figures of different origin, it is proper, ere we
assert their relationship, to show the probability, or at least the
possibility, of international relations which would have served as a
vehicle for transport. This point once set at rest, it remains to be
seen who was the giver and who the receiver.[207]
[207] _Loc. cit._, p. 260.
“Whether we start from Japan, from Greece, from India, or even
from Lybia, from Etruria, or from Gaul, we always arrive, after
many halting-places, at two great centres of artistic diffusion,
partially irreducible as regards one another, Egypt and Chaldæa—with
this difference, that, towards the eighth century before our era,
Mesopotamia took lessons from Egypt, whilst Egypt learnt little of any
country.[208] Not only did symbols follow the same paths as purely
ornamental schemes, but they were also transmitted in the same manner,
at the same periods, and in nearly the same proportion. Concerning
symbols as well as artistic products, we everywhere find, by the side
of aboriginal types, the deposit of a powerful current which has its
more or less distant origin in the symbolism of the banks of the
Euphrates, or the Nile. In a word, the two classes of importations are
joined together to such a degree that in writing the history of art we
write to a great extent the history of symbols, or, at least, of their
migrations.”[209]
[208] Cf. pp. 143, 144, 149 _ante_.
[209] _Loc. cit._, p. 263.
These quotations from Count Goblet d’Alviella enunciate the right
method of studying symbols. He points out, as I have again and again
insisted for patterns, that mere resemblance must not be mistaken for
identity; before two similar symbols in different countries can be
regarded as being the same symbol, it must be proved that there has
been direct or indirect intercourse between those countries. Hence the
primary importance of the study of trade routes, for these are also
culture routes, and patterns and symbols are the flotsam and jetsam of
the influences that flow along them.
We may then recognise several main influences which may make for
the distribution of designs—(1) the swarmings of peoples; (2) the
establishment of organised or adventitious colonies; (3) the inroads
of armies; (4) a general drift which is so slight as to be scarcely
appreciable; and (5) trade, which usually proceeds along definite
routes, and it is these that armies also generally follow.
A word of caution is necessary in dealing with trade-routes. Whereas
the decorated objects pass along them and are distributed far and wide,
it does not always necessarily follow that the ornamentation itself
is naturalised. It is probable that in many cases a certain style of
decoration is associated with a particular kind of object, and it might
not occur to people to transfer that decorative style to other objects,
or at all events the process would doubtless be slow.
One very good reason is that the indigenous objects are already
decorated, a type of ornamentation is associated with a type of object
and the feeling of expectancy demands for its satisfaction that this
shall continue to be the case.
Again, we know that the majority of peoples do not appreciate new
designs or patterns. They know nothing about them, they have no
associations with them, they take no interest in them. In other words,
it may take a long time for an exotic to become naturalised.
An example of this occurs in British New Guinea. The great annual
trading voyages between the Motu and the Gulf tribes have not, so far
as I am aware, had the least influence on the art of the two peoples;
neither in technique nor designs have I seen any object which indicated
that a borrowing had taken place. I consider this a strong argument in
favour of the value of art in ethnological inquiries.