Chapter VII: Introduction (6)

It is impossible for me to do more than just touch on the subject of the relation of animals to decorative and pictorial art; the few examples I can offer will, however, demonstrate its importance.

Wherever it occurs the crocodile or the alligator, as the case may be, almost invariably finds its way into the decorative art of the district. From north to south the crocodile asserts itself in the decorative art of New Guinea; for further information the reader is referred to Dr. Uhle,[96] who has made an elaborate study of the crocodile in Malayo-Papuan art, has noted the strange metamorphoses to which it is subjected in north-west New Guinea; he also draws attention to the cult of the reptile in these parts. The belief of a relationship between the crocodile and man occurs among the Malays of Sumatra, Batta, Java, Makassar and the Bugis, Tagals, in Banka, Timor, Bouru, Aru, and the south-western islands. The Javanese have no fear of the crocodile when bathing, they believe that their “grandfathers” and “fathers” could do them no harm. The crocodile is reverenced in Borneo and killed only when the blood-revenge demands it; their teeth are used as talismans all over the island. The inhabitants of Kupang and Timor have an unconquerable fear of the killing of crocodiles and pray by dead ones. Even the Malays (Hovas) of Madagascar are afraid to kill crocodiles, since they would revenge themselves.

[96] M. Uhle, “Holz- und Bambus-Geräthe aus N.W. Neu Guinea,”
_K. Eth. Mus., Dresden_, vi., 1886, p. 6.

From Melanesia we will pass to Central America and take advantage of Mr. W. H. Holmes’s masterly study of the ancient art of the province of Chiriqui in the Isthmus of Panama.[97]

[97] W. H. Holmes, “Ancient Art of the Province of Chiriqui,
Colombia,” _Sixth Annual Report of the Bureau of Ethnology_,
1884-85. Washington, 1888.

Wherever it occurs, the crocodile or the alligator, as the case may be, almost invariably finds its way into the decorative art of the district. From north to south the crocodile asserts itself in the decorative art of New Guinea; and, although associated with other animals, the alligator predominates among the zoomorphs of the Chiriqui.

In Fig. 91, we have a highly conventionalised representation of an alligator. The scutes (or scales) are represented by spotted triangles and run along the entire length of the back; a row of dashes in the mouth indicates the teeth.

In another class of ware the treatment is quite different, more clumsy, but prominence is given to a number of corresponding features; the strong curve of the back, the triangles, dots, the muzzle, and mouth. In Fig. 92 all the leading features are recognisable, but are very much simplified, and the body is without indication of scales, the head is without eyes, the jaws are without teeth, and the upward curve of the tip of the upper jaw in the last figure is greatly exaggerated, but this is a common feature in these representations.

The spaces to be decorated also largely determine the lines of modification. In Fig. 93 we have an example crowding an elongated figure into a short rectangular space. The head is turned back over the body, the sunken curve of the back is enormously exaggerated, and the tail is thrown down along the side of the panel.

It often happens that the animal form, literally rendered, does not fill the panels satisfactorily. The head and tail do not correspond, and there is a lack of balance. In such cases, as Mr. Holmes points out, two heads have been preferred. The body is given a uniform double curve and the heads are turned down, as in Fig. 94. This figure “is extremely interesting on account of its complexity and the novel treatment of the various features. The two feet are placed close together near the middle of the curved body, and on either side of these are the under jaws turned back and armed with dental projections for teeth. The characteristic scale symbols occur at intervals along the back; and very curiously at one place, where there is scant room, simple dots are employed, showing the identity of these two characters. Some curious auxiliary devices, the origin of which is obscure, are used to fill in marginal spaces.” Judging from some of the figures in Fig. 100 we may regard the upper supplementary device as another alligator derivative.

Fig. 95 is an extreme form of conventionalised alligator which has become metamorphosed into an apparently meaningless design which is intended to be symmetrical.

In Fig. 96 we have a series showing the degeneration of the alligator into a curved line and a spot. The series shown in Fig. 97 illustrate the tendency of linear bands not only to cramp the original in a vertical direction, but to force it into a serial pattern. Fig. 97, A, is a simplification of such a two-headed form as Fig. 94. One might be tempted to regard it as a doubly tailed form, but such do not appear to have been recognised by Mr. Holmes. The transition from this undoubted alligator derivative to the broad chevron of Fig. 97, E, is quite obvious, the conventional scutes, dotted triangles, together with the zigzag body alone forming the pattern, and in Fig. 97, F, the latter has disappeared. Mr. Holmes states “there is little doubt that the series continues further, ending with simple curved lines and even with straight lines unaccompanied by auxiliary devices.”

Mr. Holmes also points out that the Chiriqui have arrived at the scroll and fret by way of the alligator. I can here illustrate only two of these (Figs. 98, 99); in these the body of the reptile is the element of the design. In other cases Mr. Holmes finds that parts of the creature, such as head, feet, eye, or scales, assume the role of radicles, and pass through a series of modification ending in purely geometrical devices.

The designs in Fig. 100 are painted upon low rounded prominences on vases, and hence are enclosed in circles. In Fig. 100, A, the alligator is coiled up, but still preserves some of the well-known characters of that reptile. In B, we have the double hook modification of the alligator’s body, but the triangles are placed separately against the encircling line. In the next figure the body-line is omitted, and three dotted scutes alone represent the animal. The four scutes of the next designs assume a symmetrical position, and the central crossed line may represent the alligator’s body. In the last figure of this series the cross has become the predominating feature, and the spots have migrated into it, so that the triangles have become mere interspaces.

Finally, Fig. 101 is a zone pattern, painted on an earthen drum, the central zigzag line represents the body of the alligator, and the notched hooks its extremities; these are here arranged with perfect regularity, but sometimes only the latter occur in patterns, and then they are often somewhat irregularly disposed.

From his prolonged study of ancient American art, Mr. Holmes formulates the following generalisation:—“The agencies of modification inherent in the art in its practice are such that any particular animal form extensively employed in decoration is capable of changing into or giving rise to any or to all of the highly conventional decorative devices upon which our leading ornaments, such as the meander, the scroll, the fret, the chevron, and the guilloche, are based” (p. 187). The importance of the following conclusion is obvious:—“We are absolutely certain that no race, no art, no motive or element in nature or in art can claim the exclusive origination of any one of the well-known or standard conventional devices, and that any race, art, or individual motive is capable of giving rise to any and to all such devices. Nothing can be more absurd than to suppose that the signification or symbolism attaching to a given form is uniform the world over, as the ideas associated with each must vary with the channels through which they were developed” (p. 183).

The investigations of Dr. P. Ehrenreich and Professor Karl von den Steinen on the decorative art of various tribes in Central Brazil have led to results which may, without exaggeration, be termed startling. The patterns employed by these people typically belong to the class which is popularly described as geometrical. On page 176 I have selected examples of these patterns which will give a fair idea of the style of design.

Dr. Ehrenreich[98] informs us that in the Bakaïri chiefs’ huts a frieze of blackened bark tablets run along the wall which are painted in white clay with very characteristic figures and patterns of fish. All the geometric figures are in reality diagrammatic representations of concrete objects, mostly animals. “Thus a wavy line with alternating spots denotes a large, dark-spotted colossal snake, the Anaconda (_Eunectes murinus_); a rhomboidal mark signifies a lagoon-fish, whereas a triangle does not by any means indicate that simple geometrical figure, but the small, three-cornered article of women’s clothing” (p. 98).

[98] “Mittheilungen über die zweite Xingu-Expedition in
Brasilien,” _Zeitschrift für Ethnologie_, xxii., 1890, p. 89.

The following quotation is also translated from Dr. Ehrenreich[99]:—“The ornaments of the Karaya consist of patterns of zigzag lines, crosses, dots, lozenges, and peculiar interrupted meanders, whereas the quadrate and triangle occur only incidentally (that is, owing to the filling up of other figures), and circles are entirely absent. As in the ornamentation of the Xingus tribes, so also here occur those apparently entirely arbitrary geometrical combinations fundamentally of wholly defined concrete presentments, of which the most characteristic traits are therein reproduced. Unfortunately it is not always possible to correctly ascertain the respective natural objects. The frequently occurring cross (Fig. 102, A), which in America has so often given occasion for amusing hypotheses, is here nothing but a kind of lizard.... Also peculiarly characteristic are the extensive wings of a bat (Fig. 102, B), as well as the frequently occurring snake pattern, such as Fig. 102, C, which represents the rattlesnake, while another snake is represented in Fig. 102, D. Accurate representations of men and animals, as we know them to be done so excellently by the Bushmen and Eskimo, do not appear to be forthcoming among the Karaya.”

[99] “Beiträge zur Völkerkunde Brasiliens,” _Veröffentlichungen
aus dem königlichen Museum für Völkerkunde_, Berlin, ii., 1891,
pp. 24, 25.

Professor von den Steinen[100] describes the above-mentioned frieze more fully. The pieces of bark, which were from 15 cm. to 40 cm. (6 to 16 inches) broad, were blackened with soot, and the white or yellowish lime applied with the fingers. The frieze itself was over 56 m. (over 184 feet) in length.

[100] _Unter den Naturvölkern Zentral-Brasiliens:
Reiseschilderung und Ergebnisse der Zweiten
Schingú-Expedition_, 1887-88. Berlin, 1894.

I would ask the reader to refer back to Fig. 52, p. 97, although this motive is not a zoomorph, in order to show that triangular designs, or resulting zigzags, may have various origins.

Only one tablet represented a plant. (Fig. 69.) It indicates the leaves of a small “cabbage”-bearing wild palm.

The bulk of the motives for the decorative art of these people, the Schingú tribes (the Xingu tribes of Ehrenreich), are drawn from the animal world; Fig. 103 A, H, I, K, are Bakaïri patterns, and Figs. 103 B-F those of the Auetö.

The pattern to the right in Fig. 103, H, indicates a kind of ray, the characteristic rings and dots which ornament the skin of this fish are here represented.

Common to all the tribes of the Schingú stock is the employment of conventionalised representations of the _mereschu_. This is a small compressed lagoon-fish, about 19 cm. (7½ inches) long, and 9.5 cm. (3¾ inches) deep; its colour is silver-grey with brown spots. The _mereschu_ belongs to the genus Serrasalmo or Myletes; the figure on p. 260, given by Von den Steinen, looks as if it were drawn from a badly-preserved spirit specimen, and one fails to see how Fig. 103, C, for example, could by any stretch of the imagination be considered to suggest that fish. On p. 613 of Dr. Günther’s _Introduction to the Study of Fishes_ (Edinburgh, 1880) is an outline figure of _Serrasalmo scapularis_; the contour of this fish is approximately rhomboidal, the head, the dorsal fin, and the tail fin occupy three of its angles, and the anal fin practically runs up to the fourth angle. Von den Steinen points out that in most cases representations of these animal-forms are incisions, not paintings, and the diagrammatic rendering of curved lines by angles is due to this fact. The patterns which I am about to describe are common to numerous allied tribes, and everywhere these patterns bear the name by which this kind of fish is locally known.

Sometimes the _mereschu_ fish is employed singly, but most frequently a number of them are evenly distributed over the decorated surface, and between the fishes single, double, or even several lines may be drawn, as in Fig. 103, B, C, E; these latter represent the net by means of which these fish are caught. Thus we may have a fish-pattern or a fishes-in-net pattern. These patterns are delineated on masks, posts, spinning-whorls, and other objects. Fig. 103, B, is a pattern of the _mereschu_ fishes-in-net group, but the fishes themselves are entirely filled up with black, and not their angles only.

The Auetö pattern drawn in Fig. 103, F, is intended for a mailed- or armadillo-fish.

On a Bakaïri paddle (Fig. 103, A) are incised four circles, which are the ring-markings of a ray, _pinukái_, on the other side of a transverse line follow two _mereschu_ in the meshes of a net, then a _pakú_, and finally several _kuómi_ fish. Professor von den Steinen believes that the object of this decoration is simply to bring fish close to the paddle. “But it is extremely instructive to see,” he continues,[101] “that concerning these scribblings, though they certainly do not denote anything in their order of arrangement, consequently are not picture-writing; however, every single one is by no means a casual flourish, but the diagram of a well-defined object, and consequently, in fact, represents _the element of a picture-writing_.”

[101] _Loc. cit._, p. 269.

Zigzags and waved lines are snakes. Fig. 103, K, represents common land-snake, the _agau_, or cobra of Brazil; to the left is the tail, the head is simply rendered, and as the skin of the snake is marked the artist characterised it by adding spots. Very similar is the _sukuri_ water-snake or anaconda (_Boa scytale_), drawn to the left of Fig. 103, H. A boa-constrictor is indicated in Fig. 103, I; the row of diamonds left on the dark background, between the two rows of triangles, represents the marking of the snake’s skin. The larger terminal diamond to the left is probably the boa’s head. A snake is also painted on a Nahuquá bull-roarer (Fig. 103, G).

We have seen that rows of horizontal triangles are _uluris_, women’s triangles, but when they are margined above by a line, as in Fig. 104, B, they are bats; but rows of triangles vertically disposed, as in Fig. 104, C, are hanging bats; Fig. 104, A, is also a bat device.

Another triangular ornament (Fig. 105) represents small birds, called by the Bakaïri natives _yaritamáze_, that is, they are a particular kind of bird, not birds in general.

Finally, one would naturally consider that the ornament engraved on the post, Fig. 103, D, is simply the favourite _mereschu_ pattern; but Von den Steinen assures us that the central design is not composed of _mereschu_, in which the angles are only slightly filled up, but that it is a locust, the lines arising from the angles of the lozenge being the legs. This locust pattern is, however, associated with true _mereschus_, which may be seen between the legs of the locust.

In Europe and in our own country we can study analogous transformations.

More or less recognisable animals break out, as it were into scrolls and floral devices, as on Samian vases (Plate VI., Fig. 1), on Gaulish swords (Fig. 2), on Pompeian walls (Fig. 3), and on the gold ornaments of Tuscany (Fig. 5). In Fig. 4, Plate VI., we have on an ancient pot from New Mexico a decorative treatment of birds which recalls that of the mural paintings of Pompeii.

Often in Greece and Italy symmetrical scrolls are associated with a head. (Plate VI., Fig. 6.) The scrolls themselves may, in some cases, be an animal form which has ended in a flourish, as is taking place in Plate VI., Fig. 5; or in others they may be the remnants of plant motive.

Dr. Colley March calls attention to old bench-ends of English churches, notably those in Cornwall, which are frequently surmounted by a crouching quadruped; at a later period this appears to be converted into a single scroll like that which adorned the old pews in Ormskirk Church. (Plate VI., Fig. 7.)

An ancient silver plate (Plate VI., Fig. 8), found in a tumulus at Largo, Fifeshire, is decorated with the distorted fore-half of an animal. The transformation is advanced to flamboyant curves in the zoomorph of the Dunnichen Stone (Plate VI., Fig. 9); but the head and ear and legs can still be distinguished. It is not quite certain what animal this is intended to represent. Earl Southesk[102] believes it to be the horse, which was sacred to Frey, and is a special symbol of the sun. The second figure is very remarkable, but it seems to be an extreme and foliated form of the same zoomorph.

[102] _Origins of Pictish Symbolism_, 1893.

There are numerous examples of linear series of animals in the early art of Egypt, Assyria, Greece, and other artistic centres, but these do not appear to have developed into patterns, possibly because the units were readily recognisable, on the other hand, serially repeated conventionalised zoomorphs frequently metamorphose into patterns. These patterns by repeated copying tend to become simplified till finally not only is all trace of the original long lost, but the resultant pattern may so resemble other simple patterns as to be indistinguishable from them. This may easily lead to confusion and cause the designs to be classed as one. We thus come to the conclusion that before any pattern can be termed the same as another, its life-history must be studied, otherwise analogy may be confused with homology, and false relationships erected. Things which are similar are not necessarily the same.

At the extreme south-east end of New Guinea and in the adjacent archipelago the most frequent designs are beautiful scroll patterns, which are subject to many variations. I have already[103] described many of these, and so there is no need to again repeat what I have said, except to remind the reader that all these patterns are variations of serially repeated conventionalised heads of the frigate-bird. I shall again allude to this bird when I deal with the relation of religion to art.

[103] Pp. 49-56, and at greater length in my Memoir on the
Decorative Art of British New Guinea.

In the same district one occasionally meets with a pattern (Fig. 106) which in some respects resembles the former and appears in some cases to have been confounded with it. This one clearly arises from the serial repetition of conventionalised heads of crocodiles. The illustration is part of the carved rim of a wooden bowl in my possession, which probably came from the Trobriands or the Woodlarks. The triangles above the crocodiles’ snouts are coloured black, those bounded by their jaws are painted red.

There is yet another method of representing animals which consists in grouping them so as to tell a story, or, in other words, to make a picture.

Grouped animals rarely occur by themselves in decorative art; men, houses, implements, and even vegetation are frequently associated with them. The Arctic peoples, such as the Lapps, Eskimo, etc., greatly affect this form of art. The bulk of these pictures are representations of hunting scenes, and many incidents in the lives of these hyperboreans are depicted on bone and ivory. There is reason for regarding these as records of particular events (cf. p. 207); but they are also very useful to us as illustrations of native life and industry. Animals are sometimes drawn foreshortened, and confused herds of reindeer are often figured; but the grouping is mainly linear, without effects of perspective being attempted.

This kind of art is extremely rare amongst savage peoples, in fact its presence may be regarded as one of the proofs that the people practising it have passed from a purely savage condition, and have made some advance towards civilisation. It has reached its highest point in the works of the great animal painters of the present day, and thus has been one of the last forms of graphic art to be perfected.

As a general rule the inferior representations of animals in groups, and of animal pictures generally, are not due to the process of decay. They are the bad workmanship of inferior craftsmen. It is the imperfection of immaturity, not the symptom of decadence.

The last stage of the life-cycle of this class of zoomorphs occurs when incompetent draughtsmen copy the work of a master; when, for example, we see on the walls of country inns cheap and badly-drawn copies of Landseer’s pictures.

Animals also play a large part in mythology, and it is often very difficult to determine the limits of totemism in this direction. There are, however, numberless instances of legendary communications and relationships, of friendliness and enmity between animals and men, which have no connection with totemism, and these often form the subject of decorative art. Sometimes the animal alone is represented, at other times both man and animal are depicted, and according to their artistic treatment we may have pictures, or should the zoomorph and anthropomorph be rendered schematically, heteromorphism may result. At present we have to deal with representations of animals which illustrate some belief, myth, or folk-tale. The sacred art of the Hebrews was almost free from zoomorphs, and that of Islam totally so; with these exceptions there has scarcely been a religion in which zoomorphs have not played a greater or less part.

I need only remind the reader of the numerous examples in which animals are depicted in illustration of, or as a kind of mnemonic of a folk-tale, a legend, or myth, and of some sacred tradition or belief. There are so many intermediate stages between these different phases that it is often impossible to draw the line between them. The religious belief, with its sacred tradition of one age, becomes the myth or the legend of a later period, subsequently it is perpetuated as a folk-tale; later it may serve to amuse children, and lastly it becomes the object of scientific study.

What I have termed the æsthetic life-history may occur to the zoomorph at any or all of these stages of religious decadence. There is no correlation between an extreme or medium phase in the æsthetic cycle and a corresponding stage in the religious series. To take a homely example, the illustrations of the most recently published fairy-tales are as a whole of greater artistic merit than has been the average illustration of sacred narratives during any period of the world’s history.

D. _Anthropomorphs._

As a general rule, savages are less skilful in the delineation of the human form than they are with representations of animals, nor is it usually employed so frequently as might be expected.

It is for religious purposes that the human form is most frequently represented, and I refer the reader to the section in which religion is dealt with for illustrations of this fact. I employ the term “human form” advisedly, as this includes the images of both gods and men. At one stage of its evolution in the human mind, deity, like the Spectre of Brocken, is the shadowy image of man projected on the clouds. So the gods are most naturally represented as men, but often with special attributes. Now, these attributes are worthy of special study as being the milestones which indicate the distance which any given religious conception has traversed.

In the distant vista of time we can dimly perceive the transformation of the totem animal into the god. In the highest period of Greek sculpture the evolution was, for example, perfected in “ox-eyed lady Hera,” consort of Olympian Zeus, and in the Cnidian statue of Demeter, “Mother-Earth,” whose archaic representation was a wooden image of a woman with a mare’s head and mane. For thousands of years the Egyptian pantheon was peopled by gods arrested in the process—gorgonised tadpoles of divinity. Still earlier stages may even now be noted among savage peoples.

I know of no example of the preponderating employment of the human face for decorative purposes to be compared with what I have established for the natives of the Papuan Gulf. Illustrations of this will be found in Figs. 10-19, and in my Memoir on Papuan Art, but only an examination of a large number of objects from this district of British New Guinea will bring home to the student the remarkable ubiquity of the motive. We have no information concerning the reason for copying human faces; my impression is that it is related to the initiation ceremonies, which we know from the accounts of the Rev. James Chalmers to be very prolonged and important. One would expect to find more animal representations among these people than appear on objects in our ethnographical collections. Possibly these people are passing from the totemistic into the anthropomorphic phase of religion, and the latter finds most expression in their art. However, such speculations are futile until we obtain far more detailed and extended information of their religion than we at present possess.

Human beings are comparatively rarely represented merely for decorative purposes. In pictographs they have no predominating position. But when we come to portraiture the matter is very different; here we have an adequate motive for the delineation of the human form and face; it is, however, very noteworthy that portraiture, as such, only occurs amongst civilised communities. Possibly the explanation of this may be found in the widespread savage philosophy of sympathetic magic. According to this system a portrait has a very vital connection with the subject, and any damage done to the counterfeit would be experienced by the original. Portraiture then would be too hazardous to health, or even life, to be lightly undertaken.

What we have seen happening to plants and animals is also the fate of men in decorative art. A few examples here will suffice.

New Zealand is one of the places where anthropomorphs abound, due in this case to ancestor cult. The short series of three clubs (Plate VI., Figs. 10-12) illustrates the metamorphosis of the limbs into curvilinear forms. In dealing with the religion of Polynesia I give examples (Figs. 124-128) of the degradation of the human form into “geometrical” patterns.

In the various illustrations which have been given representations of the human form may be isolated, as in Melanesia (Fig. 3, O), Mangaia (Fig. 124), and New Zealand (Plate VI., Figs. 10, 12), or they may be double; for example, one frequently finds in Polynesia two god-figures placed back to back, and these may strangely degenerate, as in the examples given by Stolpe[104] and Read.[105] Human forms placed in linear series are frequent in Mangaian wood-carving (Figs. 127 and 125, A). Fig. 126 illustrates the decoration of a broader area.

[104] H. Stolpe, _Evolution in the Ornamental Art of Savage
Peoples_. Figs. 3, 34.

[105] C. H. Read, “On the Origin and Sacred Character of
certain Ornaments of the S.E. Pacific,” _Journ. Anth. Inst._,
xxi., 1891, Plate XII.

We get examples of the selection of one portion of the man in the face patterns of the Papuan Gulf. (Figs. 10-19.)

These are undoubtedly conscious selections from the very commencement, but we find various parts of the body come to be perpetuated, with the elimination of the remainder, owing to differing causes.

The reason for the simplification of the body and the disappearance of the head in the Mangaian art is probably partly due to the fact that savage peoples are usually quite content with suggestions of objects, they do not demand what we term realism. By conventionalising their representations the Mangaians were better able to multiply them, and at the same time to appropriately decorate the object with which they were concerned. It could not be with a view of economising time or labour. “Time,” as Stolpe says, “is for them of no importance, they have plenty of it, and usually they are not able even to reckon it.” Judging by the skill exhibited by these clever carvers in wood, we cannot put down the simplification of the human body to careless copying.

We have seen that the face may be represented to the exclusion of any other part of the body, but there are examples of parts of the face becoming predominant.

Professor Moseley[106] was, I believe, the first to indicate the evolution which occurred in the images of gods in the Hawaian group. In some instances the hollow crescent form, which came to represent a face, seems to have been arrived at by an enormous increase in the size of the mouth; in others, as in the case of some wicker images, by a hollowing out of the face altogether; the mouth in the latter, though large, not being widened so as to encroach upon the whole area of the face. Since, in the worship of the gods, food was placed in the mouths, the mouths may have been gradually enlarged as the development of the religion proceeded, in order to contain larger and larger offerings, and the head in the wicker-work image may have been hollowed out for a similar purpose. Moseley traced the degeneration of the human (or god’s) face down to a hook-shaped ornament cut out of a sperm whale’s tooth.

[106] H. N. Moseley, _Notes by a Naturalist on the
“Challenger_,” 1879, pp. 504-511.

Some of the carvings of the human face from New Zealand bear a general resemblance to those from Hawaii; but a very noticeable feature in the art of the former island is the protruding tongue. The most interesting development of this member occurs in the Maori _hani_, or staff of office. At the upper end is what appears, at first sight, to be a spear-point. “This portion, however, does not serve the purpose of offence, but is simply a conventional representation of the human tongue, which, when thrust forth to its utmost conveys, according to Maori ideas, the most bitter insult and defiance. When the chief wishes to make war against any tribe, he calls his own people together, makes a fiery oration, and repeatedly thrusts his _hani_ in the direction of the enemy, each such thrust being accepted as a putting forth of the tongue in defiance. In order to show that the point of the _hani_ is really intended to represent the human tongue, the remainder of it is carved into a grotesque and far-fetched resemblance of the human face, the chief features of which are two enormous circular eyes made of haliotis shell.”[107]

[107] J. G. Wood, _The Natural History of Man_, ii., 1870,
p. 161.

My friend, S. Tsuboi, has made a special study[108] of the protruding tongue in New Zealand art. He gives illustrations of thirty-one specimens, and with characteristic Japanese ingenuity he has drawn figures of half-a-dozen models which he has constructed which illustrate the various possible variations, and the lines they may have taken. He has also made numerical tables of possible varieties. I allude to, this paper in order to draw the attention of students to graphic methods. I regret that my ignorance of the Japanese language precludes my giving the results of this investigation.

[108] S. Tsuboi, “On the Degeneration of Tongue-thrusting
Figures in New Zealand Carvings,” _Tōyō Gakugei Zasshi_
(_Oriental Scientific Magazine_), No. 112, Jan. 25th, 1891.

In Ancient Egypt the eye was symbolic, and numberless amulets are found which exhibit one, two, or numerous eyes in varying stages of degeneracy, or in strange modifications. These, too, have been studied and described by Tsuboi.[109]

[109] _Oriental Scientific Magazine_, Nov. 25th, 1889.

E. _Biomorphic Pottery._

In the description of the primitive methods of pottery manufacture, allusion was made to the fact that vegetable and animal forms were copied by the early artificers.

Although the immediate originals of many kinds of clay vessels were baskets of various kinds, we must not forget that these also were often textile imitations of natural objects. Gourds which are of almost ubiquitous occurrence undoubtedly were early and independently utilised as vessels. For the more convenient porterage of them they would be enclosed in netting or basketry. The better the accessories became, the less need for the original foundations, especially as the latter were brittle. From the fact that the shape of certain baskets in a district resemble those of the gourds of that district, we may assume that this process of evolution has operated spontaneously in diverse places. Clay vessels which were modelled from the suggestion of such baskets would thus remotely be phyllomorphs but having an intermediate skeuomorphic stage.

Instead of this indirect mode of origin a more direct one has often occurred. Messrs. Squier and Davis[110] record: “In some of the southern states (of North America), it is said, the kilns, in which the ancient pottery was baked, are now occasionally to be met with. Some are represented still to contain the ware, partially burned, and retaining the rinds of the gourds, etc., over which they were modelled, and which had not been entirely removed by the fire.” They also state that the Indians along the Gulf moulded their vessels “over gourds and other models and baked them in ovens.”

[110] Squier and Davis, _Ancient Monuments of the Mississippi
Valley_, 1848, p. 195.

It is not necessary to believe that this has everywhere been the original ceramic gourd-derivatives, even among savage peoples. Once the power of working in clay was acquired, intentional copying of gourds (Figs. 107, 108), or other vegetable vessels, may very well have occurred. This is rendered all the more probable from the fact that animal forms are modelled as earthen vessels. I am not here alluding to figures of men or of totem, sacred, or familiar animals which may belong to a somewhat higher stage of culture than that which we are now more particularly considering; but to clay utensils which are copied from receptacles which are the shells or other parts of animals.

Wherever shells of sufficient size are found they are utilised as food and water vessels, and there are numerous instances in various parts of the world of vessels being modelled so as to represent the ancient and familiar utensils.

Clay vessels imitating both marine and fresh-water shells are occasionally obtained from the mounds and graves of the Mississippi Valley. The conch-shell appears to have been a favourite model (Fig. 109, A and B). A clam shell is imitated in C and D. The more conventional forms of these vessels are exceedingly interesting, as they point out the tendencies and possibilities of modification. The bowl (E) has four rosettes, each consisting of a large central boss with four or five smaller ones surrounding it. The central boss, as in a, is derived from the spire of the conch shell, and the encircling knobs from the nodulated rim of the outer whorl of the shell. Mr. Holmes suggests that in this case the conception is that of four conch shells united in one vessel, the spouts being turned inwards and the spires outwards. With all possible respect to Mr. Holmes, I venture to demur to this interpretation. The fusion of elements which are essentially isolated is rare amongst primitive peoples; it is difficult to imagine how they could conceive of the structural union and fusion of four conch shells. This is very different from the amalgamation of the clay imitations of such vessels as gourds or coco-nuts, for these are frequently fastened in pairs or in small groups to a common string handle, and there is already the idea of multiplicity and the apposition of the vessels. Again, Mr. Holmes does not present us with any intermediate stages of this or similar clay vessels; until such evidence is forthcoming it would be safer to regard this as an example of transference. According to my interpretation, the rosette derived from the spire of a conch shell was a pleasing motive, and it was applied to and repeated upon a circular bowl, which may, as Mr. Holmes elsewhere[111] suggests, be derived from the lower half of a gourd. A single conch derivative would be entitled to one rosette only, and the association of ideas would operate in favour of only one being moulded, at all events until a very extreme stage of degeneration had been attained; but in the case of transference there would be no continuity of custom to control the potter, and consequently more scope could be given to his fancy.

[111] W. H. Holmes, “Pottery of the Ancient Pueblos,” _Fourth
Annual Report Bureau of Ethnology_, p. 271.

A highly conventionalised form is shown in F (Fig. 109). The cup is unsymmetrical in outline, and has a few imperfect bosses near one corner, but its resemblance to a shell would hardly be recognised by one unacquainted with more realistic renderings of similar subjects. In G we have an imitation of a shell cup placed within a plain cup.

The skins, bladders, and stomachs of animals are very frequently employed as water-carriers. The characteristic forms of these may often be traced in the pottery of the same districts, odd details of form or of surface marking usually persist to a surprising degree.

In Fiji and elsewhere the image of a turtle has been modelled in clay, doubtless because the carapace is often used as a vessel.

While the use of an animal or the part of an animal as a vessel has often led to the imitation of that animal in clay or other material, owing to an association of ideas, we must be very careful not to run to the extreme and to say that there was a primitively utilitarian origin for all zoomorphic vessels. Sympathetic magic and religion are responsible for many, and we must admit that mere fancy must sometimes come into play, and when this is the case theorising is necessarily at fault.

3. _Heteromorphs._

As previously stated, I propose to adopt the term Heteromorph for a confusion with one another of two or more different skeuomorphs, or with the amalgamation of any two or more biomorphs, or with the combination of any skeuomorph with any biomorph. We may thus have (1) Heteromorphs of skeuomorphs, (2) Heteromorphs of biomorphs, and (3) Heteromorphs of skeuo-biomorphs.

To speak somewhat figuratively, heteromorphism is a sort of disease that may attack the skeuomorph or the biomorph. Whereas the final term of the life-history of the biomorph is, so to speak, senile decay, the result of heteromorphism is a teratological transformation. Accepting this view of the subject, the present section might be entitled “The Pathology of Decorative Art.”

Any stage of the life-history of a biomorph, whether it is the expression of decorative or religious art, is liable to be infected by heteromorphism. The only section of graphic art which must from the nature of the case be free from it is pictorial art. Where heteromorphs are introduced into pictures they form one of the subjects of those pictures, the picture itself is not subject to this modifying influence; for example, the introduction of the representation of a sphinx or a gryphon into a picture does not constitute the latter a heteromorph.

A. _Heteromorphs of Skeuomorphs._

The combination of two different kinds of skeuomorphs does not appear to be of very frequent occurrence, or, at all events, we have not yet trained ourselves to appreciate them.

In Fig. 50 we have an example, which, however, is not particularly satisfactory. It will be noticed that various kinds of plaiting are indicated on this Tongan club; as a matter of fact, if it had really been covered with plaited work, the latter would have been uniform in its character, although diverse patterns might have been worked into it. If this club had been decorated in a consistent manner the simple in-and-out plaiting of the broad band, as in the middle of the figure to the left, could not occur along with the finer oblique plaiting in other parts of the object.

B. _Heteromorphs of Biomorphs._

Wherever two or more animals or plants are represented in association there is a tendency for them to amalgamate in process of time. I have shown numerous examples of this in the bird and crocodile motive in Papuan art, and it would be easy to multiply illustrations.

Heteromorphism is especially characteristic of that style of decoration which we call arabesque, or grotesque. This is said to have been the invention of a painter named Ludius in the reign of the Emperor Augustus. That sovereign is said by Pliny to have been the first who thought of covering whole walls with pictures and landscapes. The fashion for the grotesque spread rapidly, for all the buildings of about that date which have been found in good preservation afford numerous and beautiful examples of it. Vitruvius was entirely out of conceit with this sort of ornament, and declares that such fanciful paintings as are not founded in truth cannot be beautiful; but the general voice, both in ancient and modern times, has pronounced a very different opinion. It was from the paintings found in the baths of Rome that Raphael derived the idea of those famous frescoes in the gallery of the Vatican. His example was immediately followed by other distinguished artists. This style derived its name grotesque from the subterranean rooms (_grotte_) in which the originals were usually found—rooms not built below the surface of the ground, but buried by the gradual accumulation of soil and ruined buildings.

A typical example of Pompeian treatment is seen in Plate VI., Fig. 3, where a bird’s tail passes into a floral scroll.

The representations of such mythical monsters of antiquity as the Sphinx, Chimæra, the Harpies, and so forth, are familiar to all. Originally these embodied distinct conceptions which were familiar to the initiated, if not to all. They were symbols and their origin in art was religious; their retention was due to their decorative quality.

C. _Complex Heteromorphs._

We have now to consider the complications arising from a combination of skeuomorphs and biomorphs.

Again I have recourse to Dr. Colley March’s suggestive essay. He points out that in the north of Europe animals were strangled by the withy-band, as occurs on an incised stone from Gosforth (Plate VII., Fig. 3). Mr. Hildebrand endeavours to show that the so-called Scandinavian sun-snake was produced by the breaking down into curves of the figure of a lion rampant, copied by a succession of artificers, all ignorant of the appearance of a lion. But in the first place, points out Dr. March, the Norse Wurm is found long ago in prehistoric rock-sculptures. In the next place, the serpent of the north was symbolic of the sea and not of the sun. And then, it was not the unfamiliar lion that alone broke up into serpentine forms; the skeuomorph assailed the stag, as on King Gorm’s stone in Denmark (Plate VII., Fig. 2). Eikthysnir, the stag of the sun, who was an attendant and attribute of Frey, is here seen being strangled by the “laidly worm” of Scandinavia. Dr. March suggests that perhaps we may recognise the walrus in rock-sculptures at Crichie in Scotland (Plate VII., Figs. 6, 7). That the walrus was well known to the Northmen, and highly prized both for its hide, from which ships’ ropes were made (Plate IV., Fig. 4), and for its tusks, which were a source of ivory, is proved by the Orosian story (I. Orosius, i. 14). “He went thither chiefly for walruses, because they have noble bone in their teeth, and their skin is very good for ships’ ropes.” The Earl of Southesk,[112] however, brings forward a considerable body of evidence in favour of the view that this “elephant” symbol, as it has been absurdly termed, is the sun-boar—a symbol of Frey. No animal held a higher place in Scandinavia, and at an early period it was adopted as the national emblem in Denmark, and borne on the standard.

[112] _Origins of Pictish Symbolism_, 1893.

One frequently finds on early Christian sculptured stones that the field on each side of the central cross is occupied by a writhing animal; of these numerous examples occur in the Isle of Man, where they are undoubtedly due to Scandinavian influence. This animal may be recognised in some cases as being a wolf, as on a cross at Michael (Plate VII., Fig. 5).

Two skeuomorphs attack the wolf. The influence of thong-work is seen in Plate VII., Fig. 1; this may be compared with Plate IV., Fig. 4, which is copied from a sculptured stone at Malew, also in the Isle of Man. The latter is one of several Manx skeuomorphs of leather or strap-work.

The withy-band is even more frequently depicted, and on a cross at Gosforth (Plate VII., Fig. 3) the wolf is being strangled by it.

The serpent or dragon also is frequently represented, indeed it seems as if the wolf and the serpent passed insensibly into one another, and nothing is easier than to confound the latter with twisted bands. So the animal fades away, till finally the skeuomorph triumphs, and only the ghost of a zoomorph remains in what, to ordinary eyes, is only an entwisted fibre (Plate VII., Fig. 11).

What then is the significance of this remarkable cycle? The explanation must be sought in the pagan-Christian overlap, at the time when the symbols of Norse mythology were being homologised with those of the Christian faith.

“Three mighty children to my father Lok
Did Angerbode, the giantess, bring forth—
Fenris the wolf, the serpent huge, and me.
Of these the serpent in the sea ye cast,
Who since in your despite hath wax’d amain,
And now with gleaming ring enfolds the world.
Me on this cheerless nether world he threw,
And gave me nine unlighted realms to rule.
While, on his island in the lake, afar,
Made fast to the bored crag, by wile not strength
Subdued, with limber chains lives Fenris bound.”

So, in the words of Matthew Arnold, spoke Hela to Hermod on his quest for the restoration of the slain Balder.

At the crack of doom, the Ragnaroks, Frey, Woden, Thor, and Tyr, are predestined to perish. A wolf shall devour the sun, and another shall swallow the moon, and the stars shall vanish out of heaven. Woden shall go first, and shall encounter Fenriswolf, but the wise, one-eyed god shall die. The hammer of the “friend of man” shall not avail against the sea-dragon, and though Thor fights Midgarthsorm, and shall slay him, he himself shall fall dead from the serpent’s venom. Garm, the hell-hound, shall fasten upon the one-handed Tyr, and each shall kill the other. Frey shall fall before Swart, the giant with the flaming sword. Then shall Vidar spring forward, the mighty son of the Father of Victory, and shall rend the wolf asunder. “Vidar shall inhabit the city of the gods when all is over,” as the giant said to Woden. “Vidar, who outlived the earth-fall, became,” says Professor Stephens,[113] “a fitting emblem for that Almighty Lord who overcame Sin and Death,” and he is represented on some sculptured stones as a divine Hart, trampling on Fenriswolf and Midgarthsorm.

[113] G. Stephens, _Studies on Northern Mythology_, 1883,
p. 167.

These strangled wolves and writhing snakes of Scandinavian art represent the portentous struggle of the powers of darkness with the gods when “the Wolf shall devour the Sire of Men; but Vid shall avenge him, and shall rend the cold jaws of the Beast.” But the new religion possessed a somewhat analogous imagery, and the symbolism of the one readily passed into that of the other. Whether pagan or Christian, the symbolic animal was attacked by the plaited thong or twisted fibres, and the secular handicraft choked the religious idea. Such a hold had this technique on the mind of the people that it predominated all their art, and even led to the extinction of religious symbolism.

There was, however, another means by which the pagan dragon crept into Christian art. I refer to the legend of Sigurd and Fafni, which was introduced into sepulchral and ecclesiastical carving as late as the fourteenth century by followers of the new faith. I cannot now detail the foundation story of the Nibelungen Lied; the point which at present concerns us is the slaying of Fafni in the form of a dragon or serpent by Sigurd with his magic sword.

This and other incidents of the legend are carved on wooden portals or door-pillars of churches, on fonts, and on Christian crosses of stone in many parts of Sweden and Norway, and also in some parts of England, as on the Hatton Cross in Lancaster.

Fafni is often seen passing into a maze of beautiful scroll-work, and in the Hatton Cross he is solely represented by a twisted knot.

Under monkish influence, no doubt, the whole story came by degrees to be looked upon as containing types and proofs of the younger religion. Sigurd became the Christian soldier, forging the sword of the spirit, and his defeat of the serpent could readily be adopted into Christian symbolism.[114]

[114] For a more detailed treatment the reader is referred to
Dr. H. Colley March’s essay on “The Pagan-Christian Overlap in
the North,” _Trans. Lanc. and Cheshire Antiquarian Soc._, ix.,
1892.

“When the Anglo-Saxon had almost forgotten Midgarth’s Orm, and the ancient Egyptian snake-symbol, as old as the Rameside period, had been introduced as a new design (Plate VII., Fig. 8), this itself fell a prey to the dominant skeuomorph, and was doubled and entangled in obedience to the over-mastering expectancy of the day.”

“It must be clear,” continues Dr. Colley March, “that such transformations as these were due to something more than the successive copying of a copy by ignorant and slovenly artificers, as in those degenerate changes wrought by Gaulish imitators of the stater of Philip of Macedon. In that case the original coin was not before them; they had no artistic impulse or intention, their only object was to fabricate passable pieces of money. But the men whose ‘taste’ is disclosed by the work we have just considered were swayed by an influence they could not have understood. The expectancy that controlled them they inherited. The withy-band had wrapped itself round all their conceptions.” But the result was enrichment and not degradation, and the curious designs their art produced show us the only portal through which the animal form can enter into ornament, by resolving itself, namely, into the angles, curves, and scrolls of symmetrical repetition.

“Many pauses took place ere the process was completed. Now one part of the body was surrendered to the skeuomorph and anon another. Conventionalism established a temporary truce, but the war of structure against nature broke out afresh, and the grotesque appeared. We look upon the death-grasp of a writhing quadruped, the knotted convolutions of a serpent, the spectral gleam of a vanishing face. And then, when all was over, when the battle on the ornamental field was lost and won, nothing was left but a zoomorph of contrasted curves and symmetrical scrolls.”

The human form is not exempt from the skeuomorphic inroad. The two men in Fig. 4, Plate VII., which is taken from an illuminated page of the Gospel of Mac Regol, at Oxford, are suffering from but a mild attack, but the men on the Pre-Norman font at Checkley, near Uttoxeter, and similar figures (Figs. 110, 111) on a cross at Ilam, five miles from Ashbourne, have all but succumbed.

THE REASONS FOR WHICH OBJECTS ARE DECORATED.

In the Introduction I referred to what were termed certain needs which constrained man to artistic effort. These were art, information, wealth, and religion, and they will now be treated as briefly as may be, since it is impossible to deal adequately with them.