a higher, though still in a low, stage of civilization, such as, for
example, the Fijians, who at the time of their discovery were still in
the stone age, we find, on examining the forms of their implements,
that we are in a higher stratum of culture, the characteristics of
which correspond exactly to what might have been expected to be found
on the principle of gradual evolution. The forms of their tools and
weapons present the same connexions of form between themselves as
amongst those of the Australians, but they are of a more complex
type, and are no longer directly traceable to the natural forms of
the limbs of trees, &c. The links of connexion between weapons of the
same kind are as close as before, but in their varieties they present
forms so singular as scarcely to make it possible to infer that they
were designed for the purposes of use. They appear rather to have
varied through the instrumentality of some law of succession similar
to that by which species of animals have been evolved. In many cases,
indeed, the sequence of ideas has led to the use of forms that are
absolutely unserviceable as weapons and tools, and human selection,
corresponding to natural selection, appears to have retained for use
only such forms as could be employed, whilst the others have been
consigned to state purposes or applied to symbolic uses. In many cases
we find that their clubs have been converted into the forms of animals’
heads, and in all such cases (and there are several in the collection)
we see, by grouping a sufficient number of like forms together, that
those which are in the shape of animals’ heads have not been designed
for the purpose of representing animals’ heads, but their forms have
simply been evolved during the numerous variations which the weapon
has undergone in the process of development, and when the idea of an
animal’s head suggested itself, it has merely been necessary to add an
eye, or a line for the mouth, in order to give them the resemblance in
question. Examples of this may be seen in the collection of specimens
from Africa, New Caledonia, New Zealand, and Solomon Isles.
In ornamentation, the stability of form is very remarkable. Particular
forms of ornamentation fix themselves on a tribe or nation, and are
repeated over and over again with but little variation of detail, as,
for example, in the case of the coil and broken coil ornaments amongst
the New Zealanders and the inhabitants of New Guinea, which were
probably derived from Assam, or the representation of the head of an
albatross amongst the Indians of the north-west coast of North America,
or that of a human head amongst the inhabitants of New Ireland.
In the transformations of this latter ornament, which I took occasion
to bring to the notice of the meeting of the Anthropological Department
of the British Association at Brighton in 1872[5], and which are
represented in Plate IV, we see a remarkable example of degradation of
form, produced by gradual changes, caused by these people in copying
from one another until the original design is lost. The representation
of a human figure is here seen to lose gradually its limbs and body,
then the sides of the face, leaving only the nose and ears, and
ultimately the nose only, which finally expands at the base, and is
converted into the representation of a half moon. In this sequence we
have an exact parallel to the transformations observed upon ancient
British coins by Mr. Evans[6], by which a coin of Philip of Macedon,
representing a chariot and horses, becomes converted by a succession
of similar changes into the representation of a single horse, and
ultimately into fragments of a horse. Other examples of similar
transformations from other countries are also shown.
Amongst other advantages of the arrangement by form, is the facility it
affords for tracing the distribution of like forms and arts, by which
means we can determine the connexion that has existed in former times
between distant countries, either by the spread of race, or culture, or
by means of commerce. Thus I have been able to trace the distribution
of the bow over a large area, with evidence of its having spread from a
common centre. In the Asiatic islands and the Pacific, the line of its
southern boundary is very clearly defined, marking off as non-bow-using
races the whole of the inhabitants of Australia except Cape York,
Tasmania, and formerly New Zealand and New Caledonia. Above this line
the use of the bow spread from the Asiatic isles, and its transmission
to the Papuan and Polynesian isles is due to the Malays, the Malay
word for it--viz. ‘panna’--being used over the whole of the region in
question with but slight variations.
In the southern hemisphere, where suitable materials for the
construction of it are abundant, the bow is of the form of the arcus,
or simple arch; but in the frigid regions to the north, there are large
tracts in Europe, Asia, and America which are either totally destitute
of trees, or covered with coniferous forests, yielding few if any
woods that have sufficient spring for the construction of a bow, and
there is reason to believe, from the traces of forests discovered at
low levels beneath the soil in various places, that this inhospitable
region extended more to the southward in ancient prehistoric times.
In such a region it is unlikely that the invention of the bow should
have originated, and when the knowledge of it was communicated from the
south, it would be necessary to employ some other elastic material to
combine with the stiff pinewood, and give it the necessary elasticity;
hence the composite bow, which is the bow of the northern hemisphere,
and which consists of a combination of wood and sinew, or wood and
bone. In its varieties I have traced this bow over the whole of the
northern hemisphere, including Lapland, Siberia, and the northern
part of North America. It is the bow of the ancient Persians and
Scythians. The northern people carried it into India and into China,
and also eastward into America, where its distribution is traced in two
channels, one extending along the region inhabited by the Esquimaux
into Greenland, and the other along the west coast as far south as
California; and throughout the region mentioned, its varieties show it
to have sprung from a common prototype.
Here also I may select, from amongst other illustrations of the same
kind that are to be found, a single example of the manner in which the
implements of modern savages may be made to explain the construction of
those of races of antiquity, described upon their monuments. Quivers
for arrows do not admit of much variety by which to trace improvement,
and for this reason they must have continued unchanged in form much
longer than contrivances which were susceptible of development; but
the combination of quiver and bow case in one, may be traced over the
whole of the region of the composite bow, the sinews of which made
it necessary that it should be kept dry. Mr. Rawlinson, in his _Five
Great Monarchies of the Ancient Eastern World_ (London, 1864, vol.
ii. p. 57), gives an illustration of an Assyrian quiver taken from
ancient sculptures at Khorsabad. ‘It had an ornamental rod attached to
it, which projected beyond the arrows and terminated in a pomegranate
blossom or other similar carving. To this rod were attached the rings
which received the strap by which it was suspended to the shoulders.’
The learned author adds: ‘It is uncertain whether the material of the
quivers was wood or metal.’ The conventional mode of representing
these objects and the imperfect command which the Assyrians had over
the hard stone of the sculptures, give to the majority of the objects
represented, the appearance of having been constructed of some hard
material, as is clearly seen in the case of the hair and drapery; but,
on turning to the quivers now used by the Indians of California, we at
once see that the material of the quiver is explained by the form and
position of the above-mentioned rod, which is fastened on the outside
of it for the purpose of keeping the _limp_ skin bag that contains the
arrows stiff and straight, and thereby enabling the bowman to draw out
his arrows with the necessary rapidity. And this enables us clearly to
understand why, as stated by Mr. Rawlinson, not a single example of
a quiver was found in the Assyrian excavations. In the Californian,
as in the Assyrian quivers, the rod extends beyond the quiver, and is
probably intended to guard the arrows from injury.
It is unnecessary in this place to add to the number of examples. The
object of this paper, as already stated, is to explain the principles
of classification. For the evidence on which these principles are
based I must refer you to the catalogue. Whether these principles of
classification are correct or not is a matter of less consequence than
the arrangement of the facts, by which every person is enabled to form
his own idea of the manner in which progress has been evolved in early
times.
Human ideas, as represented by the various products of human industry,
are capable of classification into genera, species, and varieties, in
the same manner as the products of the vegetable and animal kingdoms,
and in their development from the homogeneous to the heterogeneous they
obey the same laws. If, therefore, we can obtain a sufficient number
of objects to represent the succession of ideas, it will be found that
they are capable of being arranged in museums upon a similar plan.
The resemblance between the arts of modern savages and those of
primaeval man may be compared to that existing between recent and
extinct species of animals. As we find amongst existing animals and
plants, species akin to what geology teaches us were primitive species,
and as among existing species we find the representatives of successive
stages of geological species, so amongst the arts of existing savages
we find forms which, being adapted to a low condition of culture, have
survived from the earliest times, and also the representatives of
many successive stages through which development has taken place in
times past. As amongst existing animals and plants, these survivals
from different ages give us an outline picture of a succession of
gradually improving species, but do not represent the true sequence by
which improvement has been effected, so, amongst the arts of existing
people in all stages of civilization, we are able to trace a succession
of ideas from the simple to the complex, but not the true order of
development by which those more complex arrangements have been brought
about. As amongst existing species of animals, innumerable links are
wanting to complete the continuity of structure, so amongst the arts
of existing peoples there are great gaps which can only be filled
by prehistoric arts. What the palaeontologist does for zoology, the
prehistorian does for anthropology. What the study of zoology does
towards explaining the structures of extinct species, the study of
existing savages does towards enabling us to realize the condition of
primaeval man. To continue the simile further, the propagation of new
ideas may be said to correspond to the propagation of species. New
ideas are produced by the correlation of previously existing ideas in
the same manner as new individuals in a breed are produced by the union
of previously existing individuals. And in the same manner as we find
that the crossing of animals makes it extremely difficult to trace
the channel of hereditary transmission of qualities in a breed, so the
crossing of ideas in this manner makes it extremely difficult to trace
the sequence of ideas, although we may be certain that sequence does
exist as much in one case as in the other.
Continuing still further the simile, we find that, as in the breeding
of animals, when the divergence of races has gone so far as to
constitute what is called distinct species, they cannot interbreed,
so when the development of ideas has run in distinct channels far
enough to create a hiatus, no intercommunication can take place. Two
men of very different culture may travel in the same coach together,
and, though speaking the same language, may find themselves unable
to communicate except upon commonplace topics in which the simple
ideas are common to both. Or two nations in very different stages of
civilization may be brought side by side, as is the case in many of our
colonies, but there can be no amalgamation between them. Nothing but
the vices and imperfections of the superior culture can coalesce with
the inferior culture without break of sequence.
Progress is like a game of dominoes--like fits on to like. In neither
case can we tell beforehand what will be the ultimate figure produced
by the adhesions; all we know is that the fundamental rule of the game
is _sequence_.
FOOTNOTES:
[3] A Paper read at a Special Meeting of the Anthropological Institute
of Great Britain and Ireland on July 1, 1874, on the occasion of the
opening of the Anthropological Collection to the public: and published
in the _Journal of the Anthropological Institute_, iv (1875), pp.
293-308.
[4] _The Principles of Psychology_ (London, 1881), i.^3 pp. 424-6.
[5] Address to the Department of Anthropology--Report of the British
Association, 1872 (London, 1873), p. 168.
[6] _The Coins of the Ancient Britons_, by John Evans, F.R.S. (1864),
pp. 24-32.
ON THE EVOLUTION OF CULTURE
(1875)[7]
If we accept the definition of the term science as ‘organized common
sense’, we necessarily reject the idea of it as a ‘great medicine’
applicable only to particular subjects and inapplicable to others;
and we assume that all those things which call forth the exercise
of our common sense are capable of being scientifically dealt with,
according as the knowledge which we pretend to have about them is based
on evidence in the first place, and in the sequel is applied to the
determination of what, for want of a better word, we call general laws.
But in using this term ‘law’, we do not employ it in the sense of a
human law, as a regulating or governing principle of anything, but
merely as deduction from observed phenomena. We use it in the sense of
a result, rather than a cause of what we observe, or at most we employ
it to express the operation of proximate causes; and of the ultimate
causes for the phenomena of nature we know nothing at all.
Further, in this development of the principle of common sense it has
been said that the inductive sciences pass through three phases, which
have been termed the empirical, the classificatory, and the theoretical.
Of these, the first or empirical stage may be defined as representing
that particular phase of unorganized common sense in which our
knowledge is simply a record of the results of ordinary experience,
such as might be acquired by any savage or uneducated person in his
dealings with external nature.
But as this condition of knowledge might perhaps be denied the claim to
be considered scientific, it might be better perhaps to extend the term
so as to embrace all that can be included under a practical knowledge
of the subjects treated, in which these subjects are studied for their
own sakes, or on account of their practical uses to man, and not with
a view to generalizing upon them.
In this way it may be said that agriculture represents the empirical
or practical stage of botany; mining, that of geology; hunting and the
domestication of animals, that of zoology; the trade of the butcher,
that of anatomy; navigation by means of the stars, that of astronomy.
Passing now over the boundary line which separates what are generally
recognized as the physical sciences from the science of culture, in
which the subjects treated are emanations from the human mind, we find
that these also have their corresponding phases of development.
Commencing first with the science of language, which has been the
earliest and perhaps the most important branch of human culture the
study of which has been scientifically treated as yet, we find that
Professor Max Müller, in the series of lectures delivered in this
Institution in 1861-3,[8] has shown that the science of language
has its corresponding empirical or practical stage, in which it is
studied only for its own sake, or for its utility as a means of
intercommunication; not as a means of generalizing upon language as
a whole, but merely for the purpose of understanding the particular
languages which we wish to make use of in our intercourse with others.
In like manner passing from language to the particular department
of culture which, for the reasons to be explained hereafter, I
shall make the subject of this discourse, viz. the material arts, I
shall endeavour to show that there exists also in relation to them
a practical or empirical stage, which is the stage that we are now
in with respect to them, in which we may include the whole of the
constructive arts of mankind, from the simple flint knife to the most
complex machine of modern times, when viewed from the standpoint of
the mechanic or the artificer, not as subjects for generalization, but
merely from an utilitarian point of view.
There are many persons no doubt who regard utility, not as a primary
stage, but as the final and highest result of science. But the highest
achievements of science, even the highest practical achievements, would
never have been reached by the mere utilitarian. There is a force
within us by which we are moved in the direction of acquiring knowledge
for its own sake and for the sake of truth, regardless of any material
advantage to be derived from such knowledge. Sooner or later such
knowledge is sure to bear practical fruits, even though we may not live
to realize them.
It is in this spirit that men of science have advanced to the
second or classificatory stage, in which, with a view to higher
generalization, the subjects studied are grouped together according to
their affinities, and specific points of resemblance are taken as the
representatives of each class.
These classes are at first grouped round independent centres; but such
an arrangement of them, having no existence in reality, is purely
subjective and can only be transitional. The margins of the classes so
formed represent only the margins of our knowledge or our ignorance, as
the case may be.
By degrees, as the classes become extended, sub-classes are formed, and
they are seen to arrange themselves in the form of branches radiating
from a central stem. By still further observation, the stems of the
several classes are seen to tend towards each other, and we are led to
trace them to a point of union.
Thus from the classificatory or comparative we pass gradually into the
third stage, which I have spoken of as the theoretical, but which may
perhaps be more clearly defined as the evolutionary. By the use of this
term ‘evolutionary’ we make it apparent that our third stage is but a
development of the second, evolution being merely the necessary and
inevitable result of the extension of classification, implying greater
unity and broader generalizations.
These three stages then, the empirical or practical, the classificatory
or comparative, and the evolutionary, are applicable to the development
of all the inductive sciences.
But it has been held by some that a broad line of demarcation must
be drawn between the physical sciences properly so called, such as
zoology, botany, and geology, which deal with external nature, and
those sciences which have been termed historic, which deal with the
works of man.
This question has been ably treated by Professor Max Müller in the
series of lectures to which I have referred, a course of lectures
which must be regarded as a starting-point and basis of instruction for
all who follow after him in the same path.
But in claiming for the science of language, and for language only,
a place amongst the physical sciences, he has made admissions to
opponents which, in my humble judgement, ought not to be made, and
which are inconsistent with that more extended view of the subject by
which I contend that, if language, then all that comes under the head
of culture must be included amongst the physical sciences. Thus, for
example, we find him admitting this passage as a sound and reasonable
argument on the part of those who deny the claim of language to be
included amongst the physical sciences: ‘Physical science,’ he says,
‘deals with the work of God, historical science with the works of man.’
Now if in dealing with what are here termed the historical sciences,
we were to take the subjects of such sciences, as for example the arts
or language, implements or words, and were to regard them as entities
to be studied apart from their relation to mind, and were to endeavour
to deduce from them the laws by which they are related to each other,
it is evident that we should be dealing with a matter which could not
be correlated with the physical sciences; but such a course would be
absurd. It would be as absurd to speak of a boomerang as being derived
by inheritance from a waddy, as to speak of a word in Italian being
derived by inheritance from a corresponding word in Latin; these words
and these implements are but the outward signs or symbols of particular
ideas in the mind; and the sequence, if any, which we observe to
connect them together, is but the outward sign of the succession of
ideas in the brain. It is the mind that we study by means of these
symbols.
But of the particular molecular changes or other processes which
accompany the evolution of ideas in the mind, we know no more than
we do of the particular molecular changes and other processes which
accompany the evolution of life in nature, or the changes in chemistry.
If then we are to understand the expression ‘the work of God’ as
implying the direct action of ultimate causes, it is evident that
we are not in a position either to affirm or to deny or to make any
statement whatever respecting such ultimate causes, which may operate
either as directly or as indirectly in the one case as the other. We
know nothing about them, and therefore to invoke ultimate causes as a
reason for distinguishing between the sciences is to take up a position
which cannot be scientifically maintained.
With equal if not greater truth we may combat the assertion that the
science of culture is historical, whilst nature, on the other hand, as
dealt with by the physical sciences, is incapable of progress. However
valid this objection might have appeared during the empirical and
comparative stages of the physical sciences, it cannot be maintained,
since the researches of Darwin and others have fairly landed them in
their evolutionary phase. The principles of variation and natural
selection have established a bond of union between the physical and
culture sciences which can never be broken. History is but another
term for evolution. There are histories and histories, as any one may
determine who has read Green’s _Short History of the English People_,
and compared it with the kind of matter which passed for history in
his school days. But our position with regard to culture has always
been one which has forced on our comprehension the reality of progress,
whilst with respect to the slow progress of external nature, it has
been concealed from us, owing to the brief span of human existence and
our imperfect records of the past. The distinction, therefore, between
the sciences, as historical and non-historical, is but a subjective
delusion, and not an objective reality; and herein, I believe, lies the
secret of most of those errors that we have to contend with.
But the point in which I venture more particularly to differ from the
conclusions of the learned author of the _Science of Language_ is the
line which he has drawn between language and the other branches of
culture by including language amongst the physical sciences whilst he
excludes the rest. ‘If language,’ he says, ‘be the work of man in the
same sense in which a statue, a temple, a poem, or a law, are properly
called works of man, the science of language would have to be classed
as an historic science’; and again he says, ‘It is the object of these
lectures to prove that language is not a work of human art in the same
sense as painting, or building, or writing, or printing.’
In dealing with this question it is material, as regards the relative
claims of language and the arts to be studied as physical sciences,
to distinguish between the general and the particular. If it is said
that language as a whole is not a work of human design, the same may
with equal truth be said of the arts as a whole. A man who constructs
a building, a tool, or a weapon, can no more be said to have devised
a scheme of arts, than the introducer of a new word can be said to
have invented a language; but each particular word bears the impress
of human design as clearly as a weapon or a coin. A word may be said
to be a tool for the communication of thought, just as a weapon is an
implement of war.