I have endeavoured in the foregoing pages to formulate and illustrate
some of the principles underlying the evolution of decorative art.
The subject is so vast that it would be impossible to deal with it
adequately unless a series of memoirs could be devoted to it. Here,
however, I have been more concerned with the method of study; I have
not attempted to seriously investigate even a single department, and
various branches of the subject have either been merely hinted at or
entirely passed over.
In all studies a right method is of fundamental importance, and in
an attempt to understand the meaning of decorative art, as in other
matters, a slight deviation from the right method of procedure may
lead one far from the truth. Nothing is easier than to be led astray
by superficial resemblances, and it is impossible to be too much on
one’s guard in this matter. Of this I have given some examples, but
I have refrained from giving as many as I might have done, as it
is not pleasant to show up the mistakes of pioneers, even if it be
only for the purpose of warning others. As Professor Max Müller has
said,[210] “Identity of form does as little prove identity of origin in
archæology as identity of sound proves identity of origin in etymology.
Comparative studies are very useful, so long as they do not neglect the
old rule, _Divide et impera_—Distinguish, and you will be master of
your subject!”
[210] From an essay in Schliemann’s _Ilios_, p. 348.
There are practically but two methods of work—(1) Inquiry from the
people who employ the designs, or the testimony of written evidence
when the people no longer know the significance of the designs; or (2)
an investigation of induction and interpretation where oral or written
tradition fail.
Beyond all question the most valuable results are obtained from oral
information. I need only refer the reader to the investigations of
Professors Ehrenreich and Karl von den Steinen (p. 174), and of Mr. H.
Vaughan Stevens (p. 236), to demonstrate that by no other method could
we ever gain any idea as to what was the meaning of these particular
patterns and designs. In fact, the observations of these travellers
make one very sceptical of any interpretations by outsiders.
This is undoubtedly the most important and pressing work in this
subject. Only those who have visited backward peoples of certain
grades of culture who have come into contact with the white man, can
realise how rapidly the old lore is passing away. This may or may not
be advantageous, but no one will deny that it is a thousand pities
that scarcely any one thinks it his duty to inquire about and to put
on record all that can be gathered about those peoples which our
civilisation is either modifying or destroying. Every one who can will
collect “curios,” especially those which are decorated; but out of the
hundreds of collectors, how many units have ever thought of asking the
natives what was the significance of the ornamentation? I have already
drawn attention to this need for Australia, but it is equally pressing
in many other parts of the world. Even museum curators have in the past
regarded ethnographical specimens more as “trophies” than as materials
for the study of a history of mankind.
There are still some “collectors” (that is, purchasers of “curios”) who
think that when they know where an object comes from, and, may be, what
is its native name, they know pretty well all that is worth knowing
about it. Others have realised that there is a history in every form
and pattern.
What is wanted is an interpretation of the form, of the meaning of
odd little details of contour, of indentation, or of projection. No
apparently insignificant superfluity is meaningless, they are silently
eloquent witnesses of a past signification like the mute letters in so
many of our words. Almost every line or dot of every ornament has a
meaning, but we are without understanding, and have eyes and see not.
But again, we must not stop short when we have determined what a form
means, or what is the original of a device. We have to discover why it
was so. The reasons for a motive, the meaning of its present form, have
also to be sought. So we come to higher and finer analysis, and at last
find ourselves studying psychology.
With so much to learn, it is evident that we must be sure of our
premises, and hence the necessity for going to the original sources.
But there is always considerable difficulty in getting at the truth,
and a statement made by a native must never be accepted as evidence
until it has been independently confirmed from other sources. Nothing
is easier than to get unreliable information. This is not the place
to enter into the various possible sources of error, but I would like
to warn those who have the opportunity of getting information first
hand, that it is impossible to take too much care, and all suggestive
interrogation or leading questions should be totally avoided.
When we are dealing with written evidence the method is one of
historical procedure. The means of information of the writer, his
credibility, and other factors have to be taken into account; often,
too, there is a sparsity, or even an absence of corroborative evidence,
which tends to make the testimony uncertain.
Failing these direct methods of obtaining information, there remains
the deductive and comparative method. The best example of this
mentioned in the preceding pages is Count Goblet d’Alviella’s
investigation of the fylfot; indeed his book is a model for method. In
another field Dr. Stolpe’s study of the decorative art of the Hervey
Islands is a memorable and instructive piece of work.
With the examples of method which are here brought together the student
should be in a position to prosecute researches in the innumerable
fields which lay open to him.
I would, however, like to take this opportunity to say a word or two
to those who wish to commence a study of decorative art from the
biological standpoint.
No amount of trouble must be grudged in collecting the data, whether it
be in the form of photographs, sketches, tracings, or rubbings; right
conclusions largely depend upon a wealth of suitable material.
Rubbings of carved ornament can be made with great facility on tough,
thin Japanese paper by means of heel-ball (Ullathorne’s is the best,
and it can be obtained from almost any working shoemaker; the paper is
more difficult to obtain). The paper is firmly held on to the object,
and then rubbed hard with the heel-ball; it is best to always rub the
latter in one direction. Whenever possible it is desirable to make a
rubbing of the whole of an object, but if only a portion is decorated
the outline of the remaining portions need alone be rubbed. Next to
photographs, rubbings are the most satisfactory method of obtaining
copies of carved objects, as every detail and vagary is accurately
reproduced, and they lend themselves very readily to reproduction in
the form of “process-blocks,” but it will be found that details will
often have to be supplemented by sketches. There are, of course, many
carved objects of which it is impossible to make rubbings. A very
little experience will soon teach the beginner as to the best methods
of procedure in any special case.
Professor A. Grünwedel[211] calls attention to the necessity there
is for absolute accuracy when copying the ornamentation of savages.
“Still more dangerous [than mistaken interpretation] is the attempted
‘correct’ reproduction of aboriginal ornament according to the
European, so-called, feeling for beauty, whereby somewhat crooked
lines are replaced by straight ones, and unequal halves, which are
deemed corresponding, are made alike. This method causes fundamental
error, since through its corrections, it renders impossible a critical
examination of the visual ability of wild races. The Orang-hûtan
draws a curve and sees it as a straight line, he makes too many legs,
too few fingers, but has, in spite of these faults, according to
our conceptions, the power of seizing abbreviations of parts of the
body in a picturesque manner, of skilfully interpreting contours and
of preparing intelligent ground-plans. The diagrammatic copying of
primitive ornamental forms can therefore have no scientific value.”
[211] _Zeitschr. für Ethnologie_, xxvi., 1894, p. 142.
Two most important points to note are the locality whence an object
comes, and the date of its manufacture and collection.
The former is essential, and it is not sufficient to obtain a vague
locality like “New Guinea” or the “Solomon Islands,” but it is
necessary to know the district or the particular island, and, if
possible, the exact spot. Information must also be obtained whether
the object was made there or merely procured there. The native name of
every object must be obtained, also the name of the several parts of it
as well as of the details of its ornamentation. Of course the meaning
should, if possible, be ascertained, but on no account should only one
explanation be accepted as correct; it is necessary to check all such
information by inquiry from independent sources, as there are numerous
ways in which error can creep in, even when there is no question of
intentional deceit.
It is rarely possible to ascertain the date of manufacture when dealing
with ordinary ethnographical specimens in museums; as most of these are
quite recent no sequence in time can be made out. Even when objects
are collected in the field it is rarely possible to obtain a succession
of objects from a historical point of view. In all inquiries relating
to historical or pre-historical objects, the time-element is as
important as the place-element, and great care must be taken in order
to ascertain dates and the relation of periods.
A great deal of light can often be thrown upon the meaning of ornament
by a study of the manners and customs of a people; this is especially
the case for their religion, using that term in its widest sense.
As long ago as 1857 Mr. Kemble[212] urged that ornamentation should
be taken “seriously into consideration, because it forms one of the
most important and characteristic criterions by which to judge of the
tendency of a race. There is some reason in every ornament why it
recommended itself to some particular people. We do not know what the
reason was, but the difference itself is of the deepest moment.” He
points out that the spirit or feeling of art may be made the measure
of culture when the workman is at liberty to impose what form and
lines he will upon his material. Quite recently Professor Flinders
Petrie said,[213] “Art is one of the most important records of a
race. Each group of mankind has its own style and favourite manner,
more particularly in the decorative arts. A stray fragment of carving
without date or locality can be surely fixed in its place if there is
any sufficient knowledge of the art from which it springs. This study
of the art of a people is one of the highest branches of anthropology,
and one of the most important, owing to its persistent connection
with each race. No physical characteristics have been more persistent
than the style of decoration. When we see on the Celtic work of the
period of La Téne, or on Irish carvings, the same forms as on mediæval
ironwork, and on the flamboyant architecture of France, we realise
how innate is the love of style, and how similar expressions will
blossom out again from the same people. Even later we see the hideous
=C=-curves, which are neither foliage nor geometry, to be identical
on late Celtic bronze, on Louis XV. carvings, and even descending
by imitation into modern furniture. Such long descent of one style
through great changes of history is not only characteristic of Celtic
art, but is seen equally in Italy. Further east, the long-persistent
styles of Egypt, of Babylonia, of India, of China, which outlived all
changes of government and history, show the same vitality of art. We
must recognise, therefore, a principle of ‘racial taste,’ which belongs
to each people as much as their language, which may be borrowed, like
language, from one race by another, but which survives changes and long
eclipses even more than language. Such a means of research deserves
more systematic study than it has yet received.”
[212] John M. Kemble, _Horæ Ferales, or Studies in the
Archæology of the Northern Nations_, 1863, p. 80.
[213] Address to the Anthropological Section, British
Association, Ipswich Meeting, 1895.
It may be asked why I have so largely confined my attention to the
decorative art of savage peoples. The answer to this not unnatural
question will be found in my introductory remarks.
The decorative art of civilised peoples is very complex, and the
motives which prompt it are obscure; it appeared to me that our best
chance of finding out the underlying principles was to study less
complex conditions. I must confess that I have been mainly concerned
to provide an efficient tool for the use of other workers, and I have
not been anxious to elucidate the multitudinous designs and forms which
beset us on every hand. This task I leave to my readers, and they need
not confine themselves to decorative designs or patterns, for the forms
and the adjuncts of objects are susceptible of the same treatment, and
will yield analogous results.
Almost any manufactured object that may first meet the reader’s
eyes has a history that is bound up with the history of man. The
eyes alike of the head and of the mind require to be opened. Too
often we envy the traveller who has voyaged afar: If we had had his
opportunities, if we had seen what he has seen—we too might have been
able to make discoveries! We pine for the unattainable and neglect our
opportunities. The world is before us, and that too at our very doors.