Evolution in Art: As Illustrated by the Life-histories of Designs

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Title: Evolution in Art: As Illustrated by the Life-histories of Designs

Author: Alfred C. Haddon

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EVOLUTION IN ART: AS ILLUSTRATED BY THE LIFE-HISTORIES OF DESIGNS ***

_THE CONTEMPORARY SCIENCE SERIES._
EDITED BY HAVELOCK ELLIS.

EVOLUTION IN ART.

EVOLUTION IN ART:
AS ILLUSTRATED BY THE
LIFE-HISTORIES OF DESIGNS.

BY
ALFRED C. HADDON,
_Professor of Zoology, Royal College of Science, Dublin, Corresponding
Member of the Italian Society of Anthropology, etc._

With 8 Plates, and 130 Figures in the Text.

LONDON:
WALTER SCOTT, LTD., PATERNOSTER SQUARE.
CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS,
153-157 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK.
1895.

THE WALTER SCOTT PRESS, NEWCASTLE-ON-TYNE.

PREFACE.

I would like to take the opportunity which a Preface affords to thank
those friends who have helped me in the preparation of this little
book. Most of them will find their names mentioned somewhere in the
text. It is also my pleasant duty to heartily acknowledge the kindness
I have everywhere experienced when collecting the materials on which
these studies are based. On many occasions I have entered a museum in
Britain or abroad, not knowing any one on the staff. On explaining my
object every facility was at once offered, cases were opened, specimens
were handed to me, and various conveniences arranged; often, too, help
was rendered me at the time, not only by curators and assistants, but
also by museum porters and _gendarmes_. It is particularly gratifying
for a stranger to be received as a colleague, and to find that museum
authorities everywhere recognise that the collections put under their
charge serve their end best when they are utilised by students.

A word of apology may be needed for the copious extracts which have
been made from the works of other writers. My object in this has
been to show that there has been quite a considerable number of
investigators who have approached the subject of decorative art from
a similar point of view to that elaborated in the present essay. A
quotation brings one more face to face with the author than does a mere
abstract, and personally I like to feel the comradeship of similar
studies. We all contribute our mites, and the only pity is we cannot
all be personally known to one another.

It would afford me great pleasure if this book leads to new students
entering upon this important and intensely interesting field of
inquiry, and I shall always be pleased to correspond with those who are
or who desire to be fellow-workers.

ALFRED C. HADDON.

CONTENTS.

PAGE
INTRODUCTION 1

THE DECORATIVE ART OF BRITISH NEW GUINEA:
AS AN EXAMPLE OF THE METHOD OF STUDY 11

I. Torres Straits and Daudai 13
II. The Fly River 26
III. The Papuan Gulf 29
IV. The Central District 42
V. The Massim District 47
VI. Relation of the Decorative Art to the Ethnology
of British New Guinea 59
VII. Note on the Scroll Designs of British New
Guinea 67

THE MATERIAL OF WHICH PATTERNS ARE MADE 74

I. The Decorative Transformation and Transference
of Artificial Objects (Skeuomorphs) 75

1. _Transformation of a Solitary Object_ 76
2. _Transference of Fastenings_ 84
3. _Skeuomorphs of Textiles_ 89
4. _Skeuomorphic Pottery_ 97
5. _Stone Skeuomorphs of Wooden Buildings_ 114
6. _Skeuomorphic Inappropriateness_ 116

II. The Decorative Transformation of Natural
Objects 118

1. _Physicomorphs _ 118
2. _Biomorphs; A. Representation of Abstract
Ideas of Life; B. Phyllomorphs: The
Lotus and its Wanderings; C. Zoomorphs;
D. Anthropomorphs; E. Biomorphic
Pottery_ 126
3. _Heteromorphs_ 192

THE REASONS FOR WHICH OBJECTS ARE DECORATED 200

I. Art 200
II. Information 203
III. Wealth 222
IV. Magic and Religion 235

1. _Sympathetic Magic_ 235
2. _Totemism_ 250
3. _Religion_ 267
4. _Religious Symbolism; A. The Meaning
and Distribution of the Fylfot; B. The
Psychology of Symbolism_ 275

THE SCIENTIFIC METHOD OF STUDYING DECORATIVE
ART 306

I. Application of Biological Deductions to Designs 308
II. The Geographical Distribution of Animals and
of Designs 319
III. General Remarks on the Method of Study 331

INDEX 357

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

FIGS.

1. Bamboo tobacco-pipes; one-tenth natural size. Torres
Straits. Drawn by the author from specimens in the British
Museum.

2. Rubbing of the handle of a wooden comb; one-half natural
size. Torres Straits. In the author’s possession.
(Original.)

3. Drawings of animals by the natives of Torres Straits; about
one-quarter natural size. (Original.)

A. Jelly-fish; B. Star-fish; C. Hammer headed shark
(_Zygæna_); D. Group of two sharks (_Charcarodon_) and
a turtle; E. Eagle-ray (_Aëtobatis_); F. Sucker-fish
(_Echineis naucrates_); G. Tree-frog (_Hyla cœrulea_); H.
Two snakes on a tobacco-pipe, between them is the hole
in which the bowl is inserted; I. Crocodile (_Crocodilus
porosus_), with footprints; K. Cassowary (_Casuarius_)
pecking at a seed, and footprints, cf. Fig. 4; L. Dolphin
(_Delphinus_); M. Dugong (_Halicore australis_) spouting,
and indications of waves; N. Native dog (_Canis dingo_); O.
Man with a large mackerel-like fish.

A, B, G, H, L, occur on bamboo tobacco-pipes; C, E, I, K, M,
N, O, on drums; D, F, on pearl shells.

A, B, H, I, L, N, O, British Museum; C, E, K, Cambridge; G.
Oxford; D, F, Berlin.

4. Drum from Daudai; 37½ inches long. Sketched by the author
from a specimen in the Cambridge Museum. (Original.)

5. Rubbing of part of the decoration of a bamboo tobacco-pipe,
probably from the mouth of the Fly River; one-third natural
size, in the Liverpool Museum. In the original the lines
show dark on a light ground.

6. Series of arrows from Torres Straits, collected and
sketched by the author, and presented by him to the
Cambridge Museum; one-third natural size. (Original.)

7. Snake arrow from Torres Straits (cf. Fig. 6). (Original.)

8. Rubbing of one side of the decoration of a drum from the
Fly River, in the museum at Rome; one-fourth natural size.
(Original.)

9. Rubbing of part of the carved border along a canoe from
near Cape Blackwood. Taken by R. Bruce, 1894. One-sixth
natural size.

10-19. Rubbings of carved wooden belts from the Papuan Gulf;
one-fourth natural size—10. Cambridge Museum; 11. Glasgow
Museum; 12. Kerrama, Berlin Museum; 13. British Museum;
14. British Museum; 15. Toaripi (Author’s Collection); 16.
Berlin Museum; 17. Maiva, Berlin Museum; 18. Edinburgh
Museum; 19. Museum of the London Missionary Society.

20. A. Drawing of Tabuta, a Motu girl, by Rev. W. Y. Turner,
M.D. (from _Journ. Anth. Inst._, vii., 1878, Fig. 4,
p. 480). B. Back view of the same. (The hair of this girl
is incorrectly drawn, it should be frizzly and not wavy.)

21. A. Design on a lime gourd from Kerepunu; B. Part of the
decoration of a pipe from Maiva; C. Detail on a pipe from
Kupele, in the Berlin Museum; D-I. Designs on pipes—G. from
Kupele (Berlin); H, I. from Koiari (Berlin). All the Figs.
are to different scales. (Original.)

22. Part of the decoration of a pipe in the Cambridge Museum;
one-sixth natural size. (Original.)

23. Clay pot, with an incised pattern from Wari (Teste Island),
after a sketch by Dr. H. O. Forbes.

24. Rubbing of the half of one side of the handle of a spatula
in the author’s collection; one-third natural size.

25. Rubbings of both sides of a float for a fishing-net;
one-half natural size.

26. Rubbing of upper two-thirds of the decoration of a club in
the Glasgow Museum; one-third natural size.

27-30. Rubbings of part of the decoration of clubs; one-third
natural size. 27, 28, D’Entrecasteaux, Edinburgh Museum;
29, 30, Cambridge Museum.

31. Rubbing of the pattern round the upper margin of a
betel-pestle in the Cambridge Museum; one-third natural
size.

32. Rubbing of part of the carved rim of a wooden bowl from the
D’Entrecasteaux Islands; one-third natural size.

33. Rubbing of the handle of a turtle-shell spatula from the
Louisiades, in the British Museum; one-half natural size.

34. Rubbing of the decoration of one side of a club; one-third
natural size. The block is turned round to show the pattern
more clearly, the zigzag bands in reality run across the
club.

35. Rubbing of the handle of a spatula in the British Museum;
one-third natural size.

36. Rubbings of the three sides of the handle of a spatula from
the d’Entrecasteaux, in the Dublin Museum; one-half natural
size.

37. A. B. Sketches of two stages of the “bird bracket” of two
spatulas, probably from the Woodlarks, in the author’s
collection; C, D, analogous details from canoe carvings—C.
from a photograph; D. from a specimen in the Edinburgh
Museum. (Original.)

38. Rubbing of the decoration of a club in the Dublin Museum;
one-third natural size.

39. Rubbing of the decoration of a club in the Dublin Museum;
one-third natural size.

40. Rubbing of the central longitudinal band of a club from the
d’Entrecasteaux in the Edinburgh Museum; one-third natural
size.

41. Rubbing of part of the decoration of a club from the
d’Entrecasteaux in the Edinburgh Museum; one-third natural
size.

42. Bird and crocodile designs, Massim Archipelago. A. Canoe
carving from Wari (Teste Island), about two-ninths natural
size; B. Handle of a paddle in the Cambridge Museum,
one-half natural size; C. Handle of a spatula in the Leiden
Museum, three-sevenths natural size; D. Handle of a spatula
from Tubutubu (Engineer Group) in the Cambridge Museum,
three-sevenths natural size; E. Handle of a paddle in the
Cambridge Museum, three-sevenths natural size. (Original.)

43. Rubbing of the decoration of a Maori flute in the Natural
History Museum, Belfast; one-half natural size. (Original.)

44. Turtle-shell ornaments worn in Torres Straits. The ratio of
size of the illustrations to the originals is as 4 : 15;
A. Ordinary fish-hook, made of turtle-shell; B-L. Series
of ornaments, probably derived from fish-hooks, made of
turtle-shell. All in the British Museum, from a photograph
by Mr. H. Oldland, of the British Museum.

45. Sketches of two axes from the South-east Peninsula of New
Guinea, in the possession of the author; about one-tenth
natural size. (Original.)

46. Mangaian symbolic adze in the Copenhagen Museum; from Dr.
C. March.

47. An erect drum, _Kaara_, surmounted by the head of a god
from Java, in the Copenhagen Museum; from Dr. C. March.

48. Rubbing of part of the decoration of a Tongan club in the
Norwich Museum; one-third natural size. (Original.)

49. Rubbing of part of the decoration of a Tongan club in the
Norwich Museum; one-half natural size. (Original.)

50. Rubbing of part of the decoration of a Tongan club in the
Norwich Museum; one-half natural size. (Original.)

51. Sketches of tapa belts from Kerepunu, British New Guinea;
about three-quarters natural size. (Original.)

52. Designs derived from _uluri_ (women’s covering); A, B, C,
Bakaïri tribe, Central Brazil; D, Auetö tribe, Central
Brazil. After Von den Steinen; greatly reduced.

53. Iroquois bark vessel; after Cushing.

54. Rectangular or Iroquois type of earthen vessel; after
Cushing.

55. Clay nucleus in base mould, with beginning of spiral
building; a stage in the formation of a Zuñi vessel; after
Cushing.

56, 57. Variations in a motive through the influence of form.
Pueblo pottery; after Holmes.

58. A. Freehand form; B. Form imposed by fabric. Forms of the
same motive expressed in different arts; after Holmes.

59. Design of Fig. 60; after Holmes, from Mason.

60. Ancient Pueblo vase, Province of Tusayan. The height and
width of the vase are fourteen inches; after Holmes, from
Mason.

61. “Unit of the Design” of Fig. 60; after Holmes, from Mason.

62. Modern Moki rain symbol; after Holmes.

63. Decorative detail from an ancient Pueblo medicine-jar;
after Holmes.

64. Rain-cloud tile of the South House in a Tusayan ceremony;
after Fewkes.

65. Zuñi prayer-meal-bowl; after Cushing.

66. Tracing of a landscape etched on a bamboo tobacco-pipe in
Berlin; three-eighths natural size. (Original.)

67. Sketch of Mer (Murray Island) by the author, from the
south-west-by-west, showing the hill Gelam.

68. Pueblo water-jar; after Cushing.

69. Design based on a palmito leaf, Bakaïri tribe, Central
Brazil; after Von den Steinen.

70. Rough sketch of the Egyptian lotus (_Nymphæa lotus_); after
original drawings by Professor Goodyear.

71. Sketch of the Indian lotus (_Nelumbium speciosum_); after
_Description de l’Egypt: Histoire Naturelle_, from Goodyear.

72. Lotus flowers and bud painted on the coffin of a mummy from
the Necropolis of Thebes, Twentieth Dynasty; after Prisse
d’Avennes.

73. Lotus flower with two leaves, on a vase, from the
Necropolis of Memphis, Fourth to Fifth Dynasties; after
Prisse d’Avennes.

74. Lotus border; from Goodyear, after Prisse d’Avennes.

75. Lotus scroll detail on a Melian vase; from Goodyear, after
Conze.

76. Pattern from the ceiling of a tomb, Necropolis of Thebes.
Eighteenth Dynasty; from Coffey, after Prisse d’Avennes.

77. Pattern from the ceiling of a tomb, Necropolis of Thebes,
Eighteenth to Nineteenth Dynasties; from Coffey, after
Prisse d’Avennes.

78. Pattern from the ceiling of tomb No. 33, Abd-el-Kourneh,
Thebes; Seventeenth to Twentieth Dynasties; from Coffey,
after Prisse d’Avennes and Goodyear.

79. Pattern from the ceiling of a tomb from Thebes, Seventeenth
to Twentieth Dynasties; from Coffey, after Prisse d’Avennes.

80. Anthemion and astragal moulding from the Lât at Allahabad;
from Birdwood, after Fergusson.

81. Saracenic Algerian detail; from Goodyear, after Ravoisié.

82. Ionic capital of the eastern portico of the Erechtheium.

83. Early form of Ionic capital from Neandreia; after Clarke.

84. Lotus design from a “geometric” vase from Cyprus; after
Goodyear.

85. Lotus derivative on a vase of the seventh century B.C.,
from Melos; from Goodyear, after Conze.

86. Compound flower based on the lotus, Thebes, Eighteenth to
Twentieth Dynasties; from Goodyear, after Prisse d’Avennes.

87. Lotus pendant from an Egyptian necklace of the Nineteenth
Dynasty; from Goodyear.

88. Anthemion from the Parthenon.

89. Hypothetical derivation of the “egg-and-dart” moulding,
from a lotus pattern according to Goodyear. A. Lotus
anthemion on a vessel from Rhodes, after Salzmann; B, C.
Lotus anthemia on pottery from Naukratis, after Flinders
Petrie; D. Egg-and-dart moulding from the Erechtheium; E.
Degraded egg-and-dart pattern painted on a Grecian vase.

90. Horses etched on an antler from La Madelaine; from Taylor.

91. Conventional alligator from the “lost colour” ware of
Chiriqui; after Holmes.

92. Simplified figure of an alligator from the “alligator” ware
of Chiriqui; after Holmes.

93. Alligator design, Chiriqui; after Holmes.

94. Alligator delineation, greatly modified, Chiriqui; after
Holmes.

95. Highly conventionalised alligator derivative, Chiriqui;
after Holmes.

96. Series of derivatives of the alligator, showing stages of
simplification, Chiriqui; after Holmes.

97. Series of alligator derivatives showing modification
through use in narrow zones, Chiriqui; after Holmes.

98. Scroll derived from the body-line of the alligator,
Chiriqui; after Holmes.

99. Fret derived from the body-line of the alligator, Chiriqui;
after Holmes.

100. Series of alligator derivatives showing modification
through use within a circular area, Chiriqui; after Holmes.

101. Pattern composed of alligator derivatives from a clay drum
painted in the style of the “lost colour group,” Chiriqui;
after Holmes.

102. Patterns of the Karaya, Central Brazil; after Ehrenreich,
A. Lizards; B. Flying bats; C. A rattlesnake; D. A snake,
A. Incised on a grave-post; B, C, D. Plaited on the handles
of combs.

103. Patterns from Central Brazil; after Von den Steinen.
A. Bakaïri paddle; B-E. _Mereschu_ (fish) patterns of
the Auetö; F. Locust design, Bakaïri; G. Fish-shaped
bull-roarer, Nahuquá; H. _Sukuri_ (snake) and ray patterns;
I. _Jiboya_ (snake); K. _Agau_ (snake); H-I. Bakaïri tribe.

104. Patterns derived from bats; after Von den Steinen, A.
Bakaïri; B, C. Auetö.

105. Bird design, Bakaïri, Central Brazil; after Von den Steinen.

106. Rubbing of part of the carved rim of a wooden bowl in
the author’s collection. Probably from the Woodlarks or
Trobriands, British New Guinea. One-third natural size.

107. Gourd; after Holmes.

108. Clay vessel made in imitation of a gourd, from a mound in
South-eastern Missouri; after Holmes.

109. Clay vessels imitated from shells, from the mounds and
graves of the Mississippi Valley; after Holmes.

110, 111. Modified human figures on the shaft of a cross at
Ilam, near Ashbourne; after Browne.

112. Pictograph of a lasso, Dakota Winter Count, 1812-13; after
Mallery.

113. Alaskan notice of a hunt; from Mallery, after Hoffman.

114. Pictograph of starving hunters, Alaska; after Mallery.

115. Lean-Wolf’s Map, Hidatsa; after Mallery.

116. Ivory carving with records, Alaska; after Mallery.

117. Blossom of an Ixora; from Stevens.

118, 119. Magic combs of the Orang Sĕmang; from Stevens.

120. Diagram of the uppermost pattern of Fig. 119, with
rectification of that pattern; from Stevens.

121. Magical pictograph of the Orang-hûtan against the slings of
scorpions and centipedes; size of original, 9¾ inches;
from Stevens.

122. Magical device of the Orang Bĕlendas against a skin
disease; size of original, 19 inches; from Stevens.

123. Rain-charm of the Orang Bĕlendas; size of the original, 10½
inches; from Stevens.

124. Stretching-cleat of a drum from Mangaia, in the Berlin
Museum; from March, after Stolpe: two-thirds natural size.

125. Rubbings from the handles of symbolic adzes from the Hervey
Islands. A. Free Library Museum, Belfast; B, C. Belfast
Natural History Museum; one-third natural size. (Original.)

126. Rubbing of part of the decoration of a Mangaian symbolic
paddle, Norwich Museum; natural size. (Original.)

127. Rubbing of part of the carving of the handle of a symbolic
paddle from the Hervey Islands in the Natural History
Museum, Belfast; one-half natural size. (Original.)

128. Rubbing of “part of the terminal of a paddle-shaped
implement in the Vienna Museum”; from March, after Stolpe;
two-thirds natural size.

129. Hut-shaped ossuary; from I. Taylor, _Origin of the Aryans_.

130. Various forms of Fylfot or Svastika. A. Whorl from
Hissarlik (1987), 7 m., third city, The Burnt City or
Ilios; B. Do. (1861), 3½ m., fifth city; C. Do. (1990),
4 m., fifth city; D. Do. (1873); E. Detail from whorl (1993),
5 m., fourth city; F. Lotus derivative on a large amphora,
with “geometric” decoration, Cyprus; G. Solar goose and
lotus design on a Rhodian vase, from Salzmann, _Nécropole
de Camire_; H. Coin from Selge, Pamphylia; I. Symbols on
Lycian coins; K. Triskelion on a Celtiberian coin; L. On a
silver bowl, Etruria; also on Chinese ware; M. Coin from
Cnossus, Crete; N. Ancient Indian coin; O. On coin from
Ujjan, Central India; P. Foot-print of Buddha (so-called),
Amarávati Tope, India; R. Thibetian symbol; S. Roman altar
at High Rochester, dedicated to Minerva, by Lucius Cæcilius
Optatus; T. Roman altar at High Rochester, dedicated to the
standards of the faithful of the Varduli by Titus Licinius
Valerianus; U. Celto-Roman altar at Birdoswald, dedicated
to Jupiter Optimus Maximus (IOM), apparently by Dacians
garrisoned in Ambloganna; the four-rayed wheels were solar
symbols among the Gauls; W. Ogham stone, Aglish, County
Kerry; X. Ancient Scandinavian symbols; Y. Legend on church
bell, Hathersage, Derbyshire, 1617. A-E, P. H. Schliemann,
_Ilios_; F, G. Goodyear, _Grammar of the Lotus_; H, L, O,
X. R. P. Greg; _Archæologia_, xlviii., 1885; I, K, M, N,
R. Count Goblet d’Alviella, _The Migrations and Symbols_;
S, T, U, W, Y. H. Colley March, _Trans. Lanc. and Cheshire
Ant. Soc._, 1886. For further details the reader is
referred to these authors.

SOURCES OF THE ILLUSTRATIONS

FIGS. 9-19, 24-30, 33-36, 38-41, 67 were generously placed at my
disposal by the Council of the Royal Irish Academy.

All the Figures from 1 to 41 (except Figs. 3, 21, 37), and
Figs. 42, 44, 51, 66, 67, 106, are either the originals or
copies of illustrations which have appeared in the author’s
“The Decorative Art of British New Guinea,” _Cunningham
Memoir_, x., _Royal Irish Academy_, 1894.

20, 46, 47, 124, 128 were kindly lent by the Council of the
Anthropological Institute. (Fig. 20 is from the _Journ.
Anth. Inst._, vii., 1878, p. 480, and the others from _loc.
cit._ xxii., 1893, Plate XXIII.)

52, 69, 103-105 are copied by the kind permission of the
author and publisher from _Unter den Naturvölkern
Zentral-Brasiliens_, by Professor Dr. Karl von den Steinen.
Berlin, 1894, Dietrich Reimer.

53-63, 65, 68, 107-109, 112-116 are copied by permission from the
_Fourth Annual Report of the Bureau of Ethnology_, 1882-83,
Washington, 1886, and Figs. 91-101 from the _Sixth Annual
Report_, 1884-85 (1888).

59-61 are from Otis T. Mason, _The Origins of Inventions_, 1895;
after Holmes.

64 is from the _Journal of American Ethnol. and Arch._, ii.,
1892, p. 112.

70, 71, 74, 75, 81, 85-87 are copied from Professor Goodyear’s
_The Grammar of the Lotus_. Special permission was kindly
granted by Messrs. Gilbert and Rivington to copy Figs. 87,
130 F, which are original illustrations in the _Grammar_.

72, 73 are traced from Prisse d’Avennes, _Histoire de l’Art
Egyptien d’après les Monuments_, Paris, 1878.

76-79 are from tracings kindly lent by Mr. G. Coffey (_Journ.
Roy. Soc. Ant., Ireland_, Dec. 1894; after Prisse
d’Avennes).

80 is from Sir G. Birdwood’s _Industrial Arts of India_, ii.,
Fig. 20, p. 167.

82 is from Ryley’s _Antiquities of Athens_, 1837; after Stuart.

84 is from _The Architectural Record_, iii., 1894. “The
Lotiform Origin of the Greek Anthemion,” p. 274.

90, 129 are from Canon Isaac Taylor’s _Origin of the Aryans_.

102 is copied by permission from Dr. P. Ehrenreich.

110, 111 are from some plates specially prepared to illustrate
the Disney Lectures of Professor C. R. Browne, Lent Term,
Cambridge, 1889.

117, 120-123 are from the original drawings which illustrated
Professor Grünwedel’s account of H. Vaughan Steven’s
investigations. _Zeitschr. für Ethnol._, xxv., 1893, xxvi.,
1894. These were courteously lent to me by Professor
Grünwedel and the Redactions Commission. Figs. 118, 119 are
from Plate II., vol. xxv.

Count Goblet d’Alviella was good enough to permit me to copy the
table on p. 299, from the English edition of _The Migration
of Symbols_, 1894, A. Constable & Co., Westminster.

All the figures not mentioned above are original.

Plates I.-VIII. were very generously placed at my service by my
friend Dr. H. Colley March; they previously illustrated
“The Meaning of Ornament, or its Archæology and its
Psychology,” _Trans. Lancashire and Cheshire Ant. Soc._,
1889.

EVOLUTION IN ART.

INTRODUCTION.

Notwithstanding the immense number of books, dissertations, and papers
which have been written on pictorial and decorative art, I venture to
add one more to their number. I profess to be neither an artist nor an
art critic, but simply a biologist who has had his attention turned
to the subject of decorative art. One of my objects is to show that
delineations have an individuality and a life-history which can be
studied quite irrespectively of their artistic merit.

We are not now concerned with the æsthetic aspect of the arts of
design, nor with those theories of art which artists and art critics
like to discuss, and concerning which John Collier, in his masterly
little _Primer of Art_, has expressed himself in no uncertain terms.
According to this author, art may, speaking broadly, be defined as “a
creative operation of the intelligence, the making of something either
with a view to utility or pleasure.” As a matter of fact the term “art”
now has a tendency to be confined to designate the Fine Arts as opposed
to the Useful Arts; not only so, but instead of including personal
decoration, ornamentation, painting, sculpture, dancing, poetry,
music, and the drama, the term is very often limited to ornamentation,
painting, and sculpture. It is with these three that we are now more
immediately concerned, and more particularly with the first of them,
or decorative art. “In this narrower sense art may be defined as the
making of something to please the eye.... As to what is pleasing, that
each person must decide for himself.”

Art has also a physical and a physiological aspect, such as “the
questions of harmony of line and colour, which lie at the root of all
art.” With Dr. Collier, we may leave these “untouched, not because they
are unimportant, but because, not enough is known about them to make
their discussion in the least profitable.”

The scope, then, of the following pages is to deal with the arts of
design from a biological or natural history point of view.

When difficult problems have to be investigated the most satisfactory
method of procedure is to reduce them to their simplest elements, and
to deal with the latter before studying their more complex aspects.
The physiology of the highest animals is being elucidated largely by
investigations upon the physiology of lower forms, and that of the
latter in their turn by a knowledge of the activities of the lowest
organisms. It is among these that the phenomena of life are displayed
in their least complex manifestations; and they, so to speak, give the
key to a right apprehension of the others.

So, too, in studying the arts of design. The artistic expression of a
highly civilised community is a very complex matter, and its complete
unravelment would be an exceedingly difficult and perhaps impossible
task. In order to gain some insight into the principles which underlie
the evolution of decorative art, it is necessary to confine one’s
attention to less specialised conditions; the less the complication,
the greater the facility for a comprehensive survey. In order,
therefore, to understand civilised art we must study barbaric art, and
to elucidate this savage art must be investigated. Of course it must be
understood that no hard and fast line can be drawn between any two of
these stages of culture; I employ them merely as convenient general
terms. These are the reasons why I shall confine myself very largely to
the decorative art of savage peoples.

There are two methods of studying the art of savages; the one is to
take a comparative view of the art of diverse backward peoples; the
other is to limit the attention to a particular district or people.
The former is extremely suggestive; but one is very liable at times to
be led astray by resemblances, as I shall have frequent occasion to
point out in the following pages. The latter is in some respects much
more certain in its conclusions, and is the only way by which certain
problems can be solved. In the first part of this book I shall adopt
the latter plan in order to indicate its particular value, and to
afford data for subsequent discussion. In the remaining parts of the
book I shall draw my illustrations from the most convenient sources,
irrespective of race or locality.

In my first section the decorative art of a particular region has
been studied much in the same way as a zoologist would study a group
of its fauna, say the birds or butterflies. Naturally, the methods of
the purely systematic zoologist neither can nor should be entirely
followed, for the aim in life of the analytical zoologist is to record
the fauna of a district and to classify the specimens in an orderly
manner. To the more synthetically-minded zoologist the problems of
the geographical distribution of animals have a peculiar fascination,
and he takes pleasure in mapping out the geographical variations of a
particular species and in endeavouring to account for the diversity of
form and colour which obtains, as well as to ascertain the place of
its evolution and the migrations which have subsequently taken place.
The philosophical student also studies the development of animals and
so learns something of the way in which they have come to be what
they are, and at the same time light is shed upon genealogies and
relationships.

The beautifying of any object is due to impulses which are common to
all men, and have existed as far back as the period when men inhabited
caves and hunted the reindeer and mammoth in Western Europe. The
craving for decorative art having been common to mankind for many
thousand years, it would be a very difficult task to determine its
actual origin. All we can do is to study the art of the most backward
peoples, in the hope of gaining sufficient light to cast a glimmer down
the gloomy perspective of the past.

There are certain needs of man which appear to have constrained him to
artistic effort; these may be conveniently grouped under the four terms
of Art, Information, Wealth, and Religion.

_Art._—Æsthetics is the study or practice of art for art’s sake, for
the sensuous pleasure of form, line, and colour.

_Information._—It is not easy to find a term which will express
all that should be dealt with in this section. In order to convey
information from one man to another, when oral or gesture language is
impossible, recourse must be had to pictorial signs of one form or
another. It is the history of some of these that will be dealt with
under this term.

_Wealth._—It is difficult to distinguish among savages between the love
of wealth or power. In more organised societies, power, irrespective
of wealth, may dominate men’s minds; and it is probable that, whereas
money is at first sought after in order to feel the power which wealth
can command, later it often degenerates into the miser’s greed for gain.

The desire for personal property, and later for enhancing its value,
has led to the production of personal ornaments apart from the purely
æsthetic tendency in the same direction. There are also emblems of
wealth, and besides these, others of power or authority. The practice
of barter has led to the fixation of a unit of value, and this in time
became represented by symbols—_i.e._, money.

_Religion._—The need of man to put himself into sympathetic relation
with unseen powers has always expressed itself in visual form, and it
has gathered unto it the foregoing secular triad.

Representation and symbolism convey information or suggest ideas.

Æsthetics brings her trained eye and skilled hand.

Fear, custom, or devotion have caused individual or secular wealth to
be directed into other channels, and have thereby entirely altered its
character. The spiritual and temporal power and authority of religion
has also had immense and direct influence on art.

In a very large number of cases what I have termed the four needs of
man act and react upon one another, so that it is often difficult or
impossible to distinguish between them, nor do I profess to do so in
every case. It is sufficient for our present purpose to acknowledge
their existence and to see how they may affect the form, decoration, or
representation of objects.

Having stated the objects for which these representations are made, we
must pass to a few other general considerations.

It is probable that _suggestion_ in some cases first turned the human
mind towards representation. A chance form or contour suggested a
resemblance to something else. From what we know of the working of the
mind of savages, a mere resemblance is sufficient to indicate an actual
affinity. These chance resemblances have occupied a very important
place in what has been termed sympathetic magic, and natural objects
which suggest other objects are frequently slightly carved, engraved,
or painted in order to increase the fancied resemblance. A large number
of examples of this can be culled from the writings of missionaries and
others, or seen in large ethnographical collections. Mr. H. Balfour[1]
has also given one or two interesting illustrations of this process.
For example, a stone which suggests a human face is noted by a native
and the features are slightly emphasised, and ultimately the object
may become a fetich or a charm. The mandrake (_Mandragora_) is very
important in sympathetic magic,[2] and its human attributes have been
suggested by the two roots which diverge from a common underground
portion, and which recall the body and legs of a man; a slight amount
of carving will considerably assist nature and a vegetable man results.

[1] H. Balfour, _The Evolution of Decorative Art_, 1893.

[2] P. J. Veth, “De Mandragora,” _Internat. Arch. für
Ethnogr._, vol. vii., 1894, p. 199 (with references to the
literature).

Suggestion does not operate only at the inception of a representation
or design, but it acts continuously, and may at various times cause
strange modifications to occur.

_Expectancy_, as Dr. Colley March has pointed out; has been a very
important factor in the history of art. This is intimately connected
with the association of ideas. If a particular form or marking was
natural to a manufactured object, the same form and analogous marking
would be given to a similar object made in a different manner, and
which was not conditioned by the limitations of the former. For
beautiful and convincing illustrations of the operation of this mental
attitude of expectancy the reader is referred to the section on
skeuomorphic pottery (p. 97).

We may regard suggestion and expectancy as the dynamic and static
forces operating on the arts of design; the former initiates and
modifies, the latter tends to conserve what already exists.

It is the play between these two operations which gives rise to
what may be termed a distinctive “_life-history_” of artistic
representations.

A life-history consists of three periods: birth, growth, death. The
middle period is one which is usually marked by modifications which may
conveniently be grouped under the term of evolution, as they imply a
gradual change or metamorphosis, or even a series of metamorphoses.

For our present purpose we may recognise three stages of artistic
development—origin, evolution, and decay.

The vast bulk of artistic expression owes its birth to realism; the
representations were meant to be life-like, or to suggest real objects;
that they may not have been so was owing to the apathy or incapacity of
the artist or to the unsuitability of his materials.

Once born, the design was acted upon by constraining and restraining
forces which gave it, so to speak, an individuality of its own. In
the great majority of representations the life-history ran its course
through various stages until it settled down to uneventful senility; in
some cases the representation ceased to be—in fact it died.

In the following pages I shall endeavour to trace the life-history of
a few artistic ideas as moulded by suggestion and expectancy along
the lines of the four needs, and I have attempted in the accompanying
diagram to visualise this method of studying art.

It will be found that the decorative art of primitive folk is directly
conditioned by the environment of the artists; and in order to
understand the designs of a district, the physical conditions, climate,
flora, fauna, and anthropology, all have to be taken into account; thus
furnishing another example of the fact that it is impossible to study
any one subject comprehensively without touching many other branches of
knowledge.

All human handiwork is subject to the same operation of external
forces, but the material on which these forces act is also infinitely
varied. The diverse races and people of mankind have different ideas
and ideals, unequal skill, varied material to work upon, and dissimilar
tools to work with. Everywhere the environment is different. So we
get that bewildering confusion of ideas which crowd upon us when
inspecting a large ethnographical collection or a museum of the
decorative arts.

The conclusion that forced itself upon me is that the decorative
art of a people does, to a certain extent, reflect their character.
A poor, miserable people have poor and miserable art. Even among
savages leisure from the cares of life is essential for the culture
of art. It is too often supposed that all savages are lazy, and have
an abundance of spare time, but this is by no means always the case.
Savages do all that is necessary for life; anything extra is for
excitement, æsthetics, or religion; and even if there is abundance of
time for these latter, it does not follow that there is an equivalent
superfluity of energy. The white man, who has trained faculties and
overflows with energy, is apt to brand as lazy those who are not so
endowed. In the case of British New Guinea it appears pretty evident
that art flourishes where food is abundant. One is perhaps justified
in making the general statement that the finer the man the better the
art, and that the artistic skill of a people is dependent upon the
favourableness of their environment.

The relation of art to ethnology is an important problem. So far as
our information goes, it appears that the same processes operate on
the art of decoration whatever the subject, wherever the country,
whenever the age—another illustration of the essential solidarity of
mankind. But there are, at the same time, numerous and often striking
idiosyncrasies which have to be explained. Many will be found to be due
to what may be termed the accidents of locality. Natural forms can only
be intelligently represented where they occur, and the materials at the
disposal of the artist condition his art.

The ethnological aspect of decorative art is too complex a problem to
be solved at present, as sufficient data have not yet been collected.
So far as I am aware, Dr. H. Stolpe of Stockholm was the first to
seriously attack this subject. It was not until I had definitely
entered on the same line of research that I found I was following in
the footsteps of the Swedish savant; fortunately, our work did not
really overlap.

I have elsewhere[3] thrown out the following suggestion:—“It will often
be found that the more pure or the more homogeneous a people are, the
more uniformity will be found in their art work, and that florescence
of decorative art is a frequent result of race mixture.” For although
prolific art work may be dependent, to some extent, upon leisure due
to an abundance of food, this will not account for artistic aptitude,
though in process of time the latter may be a result of the employment
of the leisure; still less will it account for the artistic motives or
for the technique.

[3] _Illustrated Archæologist_, vol. i, 1893, p. 108.

The art of a people must also be judged by what they need not do and
yet accomplish. The resources at their command, and the limitations
of their materials, are very important factors; but we must not, at
the same time, ignore what they would do if they could, nor should
we project our own sentiment too much into their work. In this, as
in all other branches of ethnographical inquiry, we should endeavour
to learn all we can about them from their own point of view before
it is too late. At the present stage knowledge will not be advanced
much by looking at laggard peoples through the spectacles of old-world
civilisation.

DECORATIVE ART OF BRITISH NEW GUINEA.

As stated in the Introductory section, we will commence our studies
of the art of existing savages by a brief account of the decorative
art of a limited area rather than wander over the earth’s surface in
order to cull random examples of ornamentation. It is not sufficient to
collect patterns or designs in illustration of a theory; in pursuing
such a course one is, so to speak, as likely to gather tares as wheat,
and they may become inextricably mixed. In my studies I have preferred
to limit myself for a time to one particular district, and to gather
together all the available material from that locality. The region
selected was British New Guinea. By putting together all the objects in
our possession known to come from any one locality, I found that the
technique of the decoration and the style of the ornamentation were
characteristic. It soon became apparent that British New Guinea could
be divided into several artistic regions; and so it became possible to
allocate to a definite district objects in museums whose exact locality
was unrecorded. But this is not sufficient; it is one thing to allocate
a particular pattern or group of patterns and designs to their place
of origin, but quite a different matter to trace out the history or
significance of the ornamentation.

In some cases the origin of a design is obvious on the face of it; in
most it is easy to suggest an origin; in others even the most fertile
imagination is at fault. In studies such as these the investigator
should restrain from theorising as far as possible; it is a dangerous
game, for more than one can play at it, and the explanation is as
likely to be wrong as right. The most satisfactory plan is to gather
together as much material as possible, and it will generally be found
that the objects tell their own tale, and all that has to be done is
to record it. When the meaning is not plain, the fault lies in the
imperfection of the series, unless very great conventionalisation has
already occurred, and it is wiser to wait for authoritative information
than to theorise.

One great advantage in the method of confining attention to a limited
area is that similar designs very probably have a genetic connection,
whereas this is by no means the case if objects from different regions
are compared together.

I have recently[4] published a somewhat detailed study of the
decorative art of British New Guinea, to which I may refer the reader
who desires to enter into more minute details. In the following account
I shall first sketch the main characteristics of the art of each
æsthetic region, and finally I shall discuss the influences which act
on the decorative art of these and other districts of New Guinea.

[4] _The Decorative Art of British New Guinea: A Study in
Papuan Ethnography_, Cunningham Memoir, No. x., Royal Irish
Academy, 1894.

I.—TORRES STRAITS AND DAUDAI.

The natives who inhabit the islands of Torres Straits are a black,
frizzly-haired, excitable people, and therefore belong to the Papuan,
as opposed to the Australian stock.

Daudai is the native name for the contiguous coast of New Guinea, and
it forms with the islands one ethnographical province. Between their
respective inhabitants was a regular trade, chiefly in canoes, bows and
arrows from the mainland, and in turtle-shell, pearl shell, and other
marine shells from the islands.

[Illustration: FIG. 1.—Bamboo tobacco-pipes; one-tenth natural size.
Torres Straits. Drawn by the author from specimens in the British
Museum.]

Unless otherwise stated, the following description applies to objects
from the Torres Straits islands, the natives of which appear to be
rather more artistic than those of Daudai.

There are two methods of decorating smooth surfaces—(1) by carving the
pattern, the intaglio portion of which is often filled up with powdered
lime (Fig. 2); or (2) the design is engraved on the surface of the
object by means of fine punctate or minutely zigzag lines (Fig. 5).
The former method is alone applied to wooden objects, and also mainly
to those made of turtle-shell (“tortoise-shell”); the latter is that
employed on bamboo pipes and on many turtle-shell objects. Unbroken
lines are very rarely engraved.

It is characteristic of this district that the patterns are inscribed
within parallel lines, whether it be a comb (Fig. 2) or a bamboo pipe
(Fig. 1) which is to be decorated. The parallel lines are first drawn,
and then the pattern is delineated. A noticeable peculiarity is the
preponderance of straight or angled lines to the exclusion of curved
lines. Simple semicircular curves and circles are common, it is true,
but they are not combined into curved patterns; reversed or looped
coils and complex curved lines, such as scrolls, are completely absent.

[Illustration: FIG. 2.—Rubbing of the handle of a wooden comb; one-half
natural size. Torres Straits. In the author’s possession.]

The most common pattern is the ubiquitous zigzag, and this is
pre-eminently characteristic of this region. The zigzag may appear as
an angular wavy line, or each alternate triangle may be left in relief
or emphasised by parallel lines, thus forming a series of alternate
light and dark triangles, or what is sometimes termed a tooth pattern.
It is obvious that when several rows of this pattern are drawn, a
triangle of one row will so coincide with that of the contiguous row as
to form a diamond or lozenge. Strange as it may seem, it appears that
this is the actual way in which even such a simple form as the lozenge
was discovered in this district. Even now, after generations upon
generations of designers carving the same simple patterns, the lozenge
is very frequently made by drawing a median horizontal line parallel to
the boundary lines and then cutting a more or less symmetrical triangle
on each side of it (Fig. 2, third and fifth bands). A herring-bone
pattern (Fig. 2, fourth band) and a few simple combinations of
straight or angled lines complete the decorative attempts of these
people.

We often find that a feeling for symmetry prompts the artist to more or
less design his patterns with regard to the middle-line, although the
latter may not be indicated as such. The same comb offers examples of
this.

It must not be imagined that these people do not employ curved lines
in their patterns because they cannot draw them. On the contrary,
when they wish to represent animals, they can do so with spirit and
truthfulness. The accompanying illustration (Fig. 3) demonstrates
a fair amount of skill and a faculty for seizing upon the salient
features of the animal to be drawn. The diversity of animals is
also noteworthy. Nearly every great group of animals is represented
in native art, and often so faithfully that it is possible for the
naturalist to give the animals their scientific names.

Fig. 3 illustrates some of the animals delineated by the natives of
Torres Straits. On looking over the rubbings and tracings of animal
drawings from this district which I have collected, I find that
over twenty different kinds of animals are represented. Like the
ancient Peruvians, they have not disdained to copy jelly-fish (A)
and star-fishes (B); the former appears to be a medusoid belonging
to the Leptomedusæ. The remarkable hammer-headed shark (C) is often
represented by these people; the group of two sharks and a turtle (D)
occurs on one of a series of pearl shells which are fastened to a band;
(E) is probably an eagle-ray; the strange sucker-fish, which is used
in fishing, is shown in (F), the mouth, however, is on the opposite
side of the body to the dorsal-sucker; (G) is a green tree-frog, the
sucker-bearing toes are indicated in a generalised manner; this is
one of two frogs which are placed in the same position on a bamboo
tobacco-pipe, as are the two snakes (H) on another pipe (cf. Fig. 1);
the black disc between them indicates the hole in which the bowl is
inserted. A crocodile is seen walking along the ground at (I), and a
cassowary (K) is pecking at a seed; its three-rayed tracks are also
shown (cf. Fig. 4); (L) is a cleverly drawn dolphin, and (M) is a
dugong spouting, and below it the waves are indicated. The native dog,
or dingo, is shown at (N), and (O) is a man who has caught a large
mackerel-like fish; his belt, arm- and leg-bands are indicated.

[Illustration: FIG. 3.—Drawings of animals by the natives of Torres
Straits; one-quarter natural size.

A. Jelly-fish; B. Star-fish; C. Hammer-headed shark (_Zygæna_);
D. Group of two sharks (_Charcarodon_) and a turtle; E. Eagle-ray
(_Aëtobatis_); F. Sucker-fish (_Echineis naucrates_); G. Tree-frog
(_Hyla cœrulea_); H. Two snakes on a tobacco-pipe, between them is
the hole in which the bowl is inserted; I. Crocodile (_Crocodilus
porosus_), with foot-prints; K. Cassowary (_Casuarius_) pecking at
a seed [the latter is unfortunately omitted in the figure], and
footprints, cf. Fig. 4; L. Dolphin (_Delphinus_); M. Dugong (_Halicore
australis_) spouting, and indications of waves; N. Native dog (_Canis
dingo_); O. Man with a large mackerel-like fish.

A, B, G, H, L, occur on bamboo tobacco-pipes; C, E, I, K, M, N, O, on
drums; D, F, on pearl shells.

A, B, H, I, L, N, O, British Museum; C, E, K, Cambridge; G, Oxford; D,
F, Berlin.]

As is to be expected among an insular people who are continually on the
sea, there is a preponderance of marine forms.

[Illustration: FIG. 4.—Drum from Daudai; 37½ inches long. Sketched
by author from a specimen in the Cambridge Museum.]

It is somewhat remarkable that no case is known of the delineation
of animals in a linear series, or grouped in any way. They are all
scattered about on the objects decorated with them. The only exceptions
to this rule are in the cases of the drums, pipes, or in a few other
objects; in these two precisely similar animals are symmetrically
disposed with regard to the middle line. For example, in the lower pipe
of Fig. 1 a snake will be seen near the left-hand end, immediately
below the orifice, for the insertion of the bowl of the pipe, and there
is a corresponding snake on the opposite side. I have also noticed a
similar paired arrangement on the backs of four old women. Two women
had scarified upon them a pair of dugong, one a pair of snakes, and
the fourth a pair of objects, which I believe indicated the sting-ray;
now these are three of their totem animals, and the scars upon the
women’s backs indicated the clans to which they severally belonged. As
the paired animals on the drums (Fig. 4) and pipes (Fig. 1, B), etc.
(Fig. 3), are known to be totem animals, it appears probable that the
symmetrical disposition of two animals among these people indicate that
they are totem animals, and marks the object, or rather its owner,
as belonging to a particular clan. This paired arrangement strangely
recalls the “supporters” of our armorial bearings, and there is reason
to believe that these perpetuate in some instances the totem animals of
our savage forefathers.

Another point is worth mentioning. Many of the drums have engraved
on each of their sides the representation of a cassowary (Fig. 4). I
understood that in Mer (Murray Island) only certain people could beat
the drum; thus it would appear that throughout this district the men of
the cassowary clan, at all events, were the musicians.

Like many other savages, these people are more expert in depicting
animals than men, and the human form is rarely copied. Human faces are,
however, very frequently represented in the wooden and turtle-shell
masks for which the Torres Straits natives are famous, and small wooden
human figures were carved on arrows from the mainland, or as wooden or
stone images to act as charms. For analogous purposes models of dugong
and turtle were carved in wood, and many of these are really skilfully
executed works of art, while others are merely conventional renderings,
with a minimum amount of labour expended upon them.

The great dance-masks, to which mention has just been made, are
sometimes very elaborate objects, and the animal forms, which are
often used in combination with the human face, are doubtless symbolic,
but of their meaning we are ignorant. Various sharks, such as the
hammer-headed shark and the saw-fish, the crocodile and a sea-bird, are
very commonly represented.

The association of a human being and crocodile is shown in Fig. 5,
which is taken from a rubbing of a bamboo tobacco-pipe (the white spot
in the centre indicates the hole for the insertion of the bowl). Only
the face and arms of the man are represented. This design is repeated
four times on the same object. The figure also illustrates a concentric
treatment of designs which appears to be characteristic of the mainland
near the mouth of the Fly River.

[Illustration: FIG. 5.—Rubbing of part of the decoration of a bamboo
tobacco-pipe, probably from the mouth of the Fly River; one-third
natural size, in the Liverpool Museum. In the original the lines show
dark on a light ground.]

From about the same district where the last object came from are made
the carved wooden arrows, which are traded by the natives to the
islanders of Torres Straits, and which may be found in many of our
ethnographical museums. All the arrows formerly used in Torres Straits
were imported from the mainland of New Guinea. Of these there were many
kinds: some were quite plain, others had simple wooden barbs, while
others again had bone barbs; it is only with these latter that I am now
dealing.

No two of these arrows are precisely alike, but they fall into four
main groups—(1) undecorated, or with an occasional simple band pattern
below the barbs; (2) those with the figure of a man carved upon them;
(3) those with a representation of a crocodile; and finally (4) those
with simple patterns, which usually have a longitudinal direction.

I will confine myself to the third group, and will illustrate only
a few of the numerous variations which occur; these will suffice to
indicate what sort of modifications take place, and will enable any one
to interpret the carving on the majority of arrows belonging to this
class which may be met with in a museum.

_The Crocodile Arrow and its Derivatives._—This class of arrows forms
a very interesting series, as it becomes greatly modified. At one end
of the series we have an easily recognisable crocodile; at the other
we have a lizard, or a well-marked snake; and possibly even this may
degenerate into the simplest patterns.

(_a._) _The Crocodile and its Degenerate Forms._—In front of the main
design there are usually a few barbs, much as in the “man-arrow,”
but these barbs may be considerably increased in number in the more
degenerate type, or they may be altogether absent.

It is desirable to first describe a typical crocodile-arrow; and it
will be necessary to call attention to certain well-marked divisions of
the total representation: these are the snout, the head and neck (from
the eyes, inclusive, to the fore-limbs), the fore-limbs, the trunk, the
hind-limbs, and the tail.

(1.) The snout is plain; above, at the anterior extremity, are two
elevations, which are meant for the prominent valvular nostrils of the
crocodile. Occasionally one is placed behind the other (Fig. 6, A),
instead of their being side by side, or even but one may be present.
Laterally the jaws and teeth are usually characteristically rendered.
In one arrow (Fig. 6, B), the teeth of the upper jaw on one side
have, by an easy transition, been transformed into a zigzag line. The
underside of the snout and head is ornamented with lines and dots which
may have a longitudinal or transverse arrangement, or both may occur,
as in Fig. 6, B.

(2.) The head and neck, like the snout, are plain above, except for an
occasional representation of scales on the neck (Fig. 6, C), and the
ventral ornamentation is a continuation of that of the underside of
the snout. The eye is triangular, with the apex behind, rarely oval,
as in Fig. 6, C; a band-pattern, usually a zigzag, which is always
distinguishable from the ventral ornamentation, extends from the eye to
the fore-limb.

(3.) The region of the fore-limb has generally the greatest thickness
of the whole arrow. The limbs often arise from an ornamental band (Fig.
6, A), which represents the prominent scutes in this region of the real
animal. The fore-limbs first project backwardly, and then run forwards
towards the middle ventral line. The toes are usually indicated by
transverse lines.

(4.) The trunk has usually a row of chevrons or diamonds running along
the dorsal and ventral median lines; the lateral ornamentation usually
consists of transverse lines, separated by rows of spots; sometimes
these run longitudinally.

(5.) The hind-limbs may be separated dorsally by a triangular area
(Fig. 6, A), or by a row of tubercles (Fig. 6, E). The limbs invariably
bend forwards, and then backwards. The enclosed angle contains a row of
spots or rarely a plain ridge.

(6.) Typically the tail is ornamented with three, occasionally two,
dorsal rows of tubercles. The median row is a continuation of the
median series, or the triangular area above noted; sometimes the median
row is directly continuous with the central series on the back of the
trunk. The lateral rows start from the insertions of the hind-limbs
(Fig. 6, A, E, D). Beneath there is a large quadrangular plate,
ornamented with concentric lines, the sides of which often extend up to
the dorso-lateral angle of the tail.

[Illustration: FIG. 6.—Series of arrows from Torres Straits, collected
and sketched by the author, and presented by him to the Cambridge
Museum; one-third natural size.]

On comparing a number of crocodile-arrows with the animal itself, one
is struck with the numerous realistic details which have survived
the decorative treatment of the design. It must be remembered that
one is dealing with a work of decorative art, and not an attempt at
realistic carving. In one arrow several anatomical characteristics of
the crocodile will be suggestively rendered; in a second other details
will be more accurately carved; but in the great majority of arrows
belonging to this series, variation has occurred to such an extent that
the crocodile becomes almost unrecognisable as such.

A very typical crocodile arrow is to be seen in Fig. 6, A; the chief
variation in this is the placing of one nostril behind the other.

In Fig. 6, B, the nostrils are side by side, and the teeth of the upper
jaw are represented by a zigzag line. The hind-limbs and the tail are
entirely absent.

Fig. 6, C, is important in several respects. The nostril is single, the
mouth is partially closed; but the teeth have not, as yet, entirely
disappeared from the hinder closed moiety. The eye is oval, a rare
feature, and the dorsal scales of the neck are represented; this is
also rare. The fore-limbs have been converted into a raised zigzag
band, which encircles the arrow. The hind-limbs do the same, except
that the pattern is interrupted in the median dorsal line by a double
row of tubercles, which represent the prominent dorsal scutes of this
region in the living animal. The thigh is carved with a curved upper
border and a straight lower border.

There is rather a gap in the series between Fig. 6, C and D; but it is
easy to see that the hinder part of the mouth is closed, and the teeth
of both jaws are represented by different patterns; the front part of
the mouth is widely open, but edentulous. The nostril is single. The
eye has become enormously enlarged, and constitutes what I propose to
term an eye-panel; it extends backwardly to the fore-limb. The plain
upper surface of the head and neck has become much reduced, owing to
the encroachment of a double row of spots on each side. The artist
mistook the upper for the lower surface when he carved the fore-limbs,
for it will be seen that the toes are above and the dorsal scutes are
placed below. Another point of interest is the replacing of the central
row of caudal scutes by a plain ridge; so far as I am aware this is
unique.

Fig. 6, E, is a type of a large number of arrows. The front open part
of the mouth is quite small, and the surfaces of the jaws are scored by
oblique lines. The median dorsal plain band of the snout is no wider
than the lateral bands which indicate the closed hinder part of the
mouth. In the gape of the mouth an elongated triangle is very generally
present; this is doubtless intended to represent a tongue. Sometimes
it is notched. The eye-panels are elongated and narrow, and the dorsal
median band of the head and neck extremely reduced. The rest of the
body in this arrow calls for no special mention. Sometimes eyes are
carved on the dorsal surface of the gaping end of the upper jaw.

In the last arrow (Fig. 6, F) of the series which I figure, the front
part of the mouth has disappeared; but the hinder part of the head is
much the same as in the last arrow. The fore-limbs and body are absent.
The hind-limbs are narrow, but retain their characteristic forward
bend; the dorsal caudal scutes are replaced by numerous parallel
transverse lines.

[Illustration: FIG. 7. Snake-arrow from Torres Straits (cf. Fig. 6).]

Two features of the innumerable modifications of this design are
worthy of special allusion, the one is the remarkable retention of the
projecting nostril, which may often be found as a slight prominence in
very degraded arrows; and the other is the still greater persistence of
the tail and hindquarters of the crocodile. I suspect that the striking
decorative effect of the concentrically marked cloacal plate has
led not only to the retention of that part, but also to that of the
neighbouring organs.

(_b._) _The Snake Variety._—We now pass on to a small group in which
the open front part of the mouth of such an arrow as Fig. 6, E, has
suggested a complete head, and so eyes are added (Fig. 7); the rest
of the snout, the head and fore-limbs are omitted; the body is much
elongated, but the hind legs and tail are usually quite normal, or
subject to merely minor variations; the patterns may run transversely
as in the figure, or longitudinally. Such a carving irresistibly calls
to mind a snake; the natives themselves told me it was a snake.

The tail and hindquarters, however, proclaim the crocodilian original.
In this group of arrows we have a very interesting example of the
transition from one kind of animal into another; but hitherto I have
not seen a snake-arrow which has lost all trace of its saurian ancestry.

(_c._) _The Lizard Variety._—A few arrows are known to me which pretty
closely resemble Fig. 6, E, except that the hind-limbs are elongated
and slender, and the tail is not crocodilian. The body is depressed and
lozenge-shaped in section. In other words, the body, hind legs, and
tail are lacertilian in character. In these arrows, the crocodile has
been confounded with a lizard.

Other illustrations of the decorative art of these people will be found
in Figs. 44, 66; but as these examples illustrate other aspects of the
subject, I have described them in the relating sections of this book
and refrain from repeating them here.

II.—THE FLY RIVER.

The Fly River is the largest river in New Guinea. It rises from about
the area where the Dutch, German, and British territories abut, and
flows into the western side of the Gulf of Papua. For a great part of
its course it flows through low-lying and often swampy country, which
is but sparsely inhabited, except in the delta region. For our present
purpose we need only consider the delta and the middle region of the
river. Owing to the carelessness of collectors, it is very difficult to
determine from what exact district many objects labelled “Fly River”
actually come.

The largest island in the delta of the Fly River is Kiwai, and this
contains several villages. Almost the only objects which can be safely
referred to Kiwai are the tubular drums with “jaws” at one end. There
can be but little doubt that the carving represents the head of the
crocodile, just as in the large Torres Straits and Daudai drum the
“jaws” probably are derived from the same reptile. The carving on the
Kiwai drums is boldly executed, and usually filled in with red and
white pigment.

So far as I can discover, the etching on the bamboo tobacco-pipes is
similar in many respects to that on those from the previous district,
but the zigzag lines are usually much coarser, and the punctate line is
either rare or absent.

In some of the islands in the delta of the Fly River, at Daumori for
example, carved wooden slabs, more or less ovoid in contour, are
suspended on the front of a house for good luck; some of these are also
employed as figure-heads for canoes to ensure successful voyages. They
have carved upon them conventional human faces, and occasionally whole
figures, accompanied by simple patterns.[5]

[5] I hope to publish shortly a paper in the _Internationales
Archiv für Ethnographie_, on the designs which are incised on
the skin of these natives.

[Illustration: FIG. 8.—Rubbing of one side of the decoration of a drum
from the Fly River, in the Museum at Rome; one-fourth natural size.]

_Middle District of the Fly River._—The most extensive collection of
objects at present in Europe from the interior of New Guinea along the
Fly River is that in the museum in Rome. These were “collected” by
Signor d’Albertis, mainly at what he named “Villaggio dei cocchi,”
which is probably the same place reached by Sir William MacGregor on
January 7th, 1890; it is situated about 380 miles from the mouth of the
river.

The drums from this district differ in shape from those from other
parts of the Possession, and a somewhat elaborate ornamentation is
carved on them in low relief. The means do not at present exist for
elucidating the significance of these designs (Fig. 8), which are
compounded of crescentic lines, leaf-like and triradiate elements and
spirals. Some of the figures certainly look as if they were intended to
represent leaves; if this is the case, it may be due to some influence
from the north, for we find that leaf-designs are employed in the north
of Netherlands New Guinea. Dr. M. Uhle[6] states that “the influence of
the plant ornamentation of the East Indian Archipelago is also found
in West New Guinea. Although it is essentially characteristic of the
western portion of the East Indian Archipelago, isolated examples are
not wanting in the ornamentation of the eastern.” He thinks he can
trace the plant motive in South-West New Guinea as far as Wamuka River.

[6] “Holz- und Bambus-Geräthe aus Nord West Neu Guinea,”
_Publicationen aus dem Königlichen Ethnographiscen Museum zu
Dresden_, vi., 1886.

The bamboo pipes are also decorated in a characteristic manner, the
pattern being caused by a local removal of the skin of the bamboo,
so that it shows darker against a light background. There is usually
considerably more regularity in the decoration than occurs on the
drums.

III.—THE PAPUAN GULF.

We have no information concerning the decorative art of the greater
portion of the littoral of the Papuan Gulf, but from two rubbings sent
to me by my friend, Mr. Robert Bruce, in 1894, it appears that the
human face is largely represented. In Fig. 9 we see that simplified
faces constitute a pattern which adorns a canoe.

[Illustration: FIG. 9.—Rubbing of part of a carved pattern, along a
canoe from near Cape Blackwood. Taken by R. Bruce, 1894. One-sixth
natural size.]

At the eastern side of the bight of the Gulf of Papua there is a
very energetic, boisterous people of dark complexion, who inhabit
the vicinity of Freshwater Bay. Their best known village is Toaripi
(Motu Motu); the term Elema includes this and other tribes in the
neighbourhood.

The district is fertile, wooded, and well-watered. Sago is abundant,
and fleets of trading canoes sail annually to and from the Motu tribe
of Port Moresby to exchange pottery for sago.

The decorative art of this district is so characteristic that it is
impossible to mistake it. Objects of wood are cut in flat relief, and
those made of bamboo are similarly treated, the design being emphasised
by the colouring of the intaglio. The vast majority of the designs
are derived from the human figure, and most particularly the face.
There are very few designs which cannot be traced to this origin;
occasionally a crocodile or a lizard may be introduced.

The employment of masks during sacred ceremonies, which was such a
notable feature of Torres Straits, recurs here also to an equal degree,
but instead of the masks being made in wood or turtle-shell, they are
constructed of a light framework on which is stitched the inner bark of
a tree. The device is outlined by cloissons of the midrib of a leaf,
and the figures are picked out in red and black, and the background is
usually painted white. This _cloissonée_ technique is peculiar to this
district, and it appears to have affected also the method of carving
patterns in wood.

The form and decoration of these masks is so varied that it would
be tedious to describe them. In the majority of them a human face
is readily recognisable, but in some of the larger examples it has
practically become lost. In nearly all, instead of a human mouth, the
mask is provided with a long snout, the jaws of which are usually
numerously toothed. There can be little doubt that this represents
a crocodile’s snout. Almost wherever it occurs, the crocodile or
alligator, as the case may be, enters into the religion of people,
doubtless, primarily, on account of its size and predatory habits. It
is very frequently a totem, as, for example, in Torres Straits, and it
is very probable that here also its presence in conjunction with the
human form is symbolic of a totemistic relation between the man and the
reptile. We know extremely little about the use, and nothing of the
significance, of the masks of this region, but it appears that their
use is in connection with the initiation of the lads into manhood, and
a common feature of initiation is the association of the totem with
the individual. Some masks represent what appears to be intended for a
pig’s head; a bird and other forms may also be introduced. Occasionally
a human head may be given to a grotesque animal form.

The shields are oblong or ovoid in shape, and have a central slit
cut out at the top. Most of the former are decorated with an easily
recognisable human face; sometimes the face is doubled, but in these
cases it is only the nose and mouth that are repeated, a single pair
of eyes having to do duty for the two faces. The faces are subject to
considerable modification, the two eyes, or even only a single eye may
alone be recognisable.

Characteristic of typical New Guinea villages are large houses which
men alone may enter. Here the lads who are being initiated into manhood
are lodged, here the masks and other sacred objects are kept; they
combine the offices of clubs, guest-houses, and religious edifices.
In this district, as well as in the Fly River delta, they are usually
decorated with human and animal carvings, and in them are suspended
wooden slabs of an elongated oval shape, which are carved in a similar
manner to the shields. These tablets appear to be employed as charms
for good-luck, but we do not know whether they are also used in the
initiation ceremonies; they are decorated with extremely conventional
representations of the human form, or may be only a face; sometimes
monstrous combinations of a man and animal may be carved.

When men have passed through all the stages of initiation, they are
entitled, so Mr. Chalmers informs us, to wear broad, carved wooden
belts. These belts encircle the body thrice, and like many other
symbols of distinction must be extremely inconvenient to wear. I have
made rubbings of quite a considerable number of these belts, and have
come across only a few in which human faces could not be distinguished.

The design is so engraved that the pattern is in flat relief; this is
kept dark in colour, and shows up against the whitened background.
Certain details of the design are often picked out in red, the exposed
uncarved portion of the belt and most usually the narrow plain border
above and below the pattern are painted red. The design commences at
one end of the belt, and terminates when one circumference is nearly
attained.

There is a wonderful diversity of pattern in these belts, yet, at
the same time, there is a fundamental similarity in the style of
the designs which clearly indicates a community of origin. A very
considerable proportion of the belts known to me exhibit a true
decorative taste on the part of artists, and in some cases pleasing
and ingenious patterns have been evolved. It may not be superfluous
to point out that, whereas “eye-spots” are usually intended for eyes,
they are sometimes employed as an appropriate decorative device;
similarly toothed lines may represent human teeth, rarely hair, and not
infrequently they are purely ornamental.

I have made a selection of ten of these belts which sufficiently
illustrate their character and the sort of modification which occurs.
Figs. 11 to 19 are photographed from rubbings of part of the decoration
of wooden belts from the Papuan Gulf. Fig. 10 represents the whole of
the ornamentation. All are one-fourth natural size.

CLASSIFICATION OF CARVED PATTERNS ON WOODEN BELTS FROM THE GULF OF
PAPUA.

_Human Face Derivatives._

SERIES I.—UNISERIAL, VERTICAL.
1. Faces looking the same way.
2. Faces alternately looking up and down.

SERIES II.—UNISERIAL, HORIZONTAL.
1. Faces looking the same way.
2. Faces alternately looking towards and away from one another.
(_a_) All faces separate.
(_b_) Faces looking towards one another grouped together.
(_c_) Faces looking away from one another grouped together.

SERIES III.—BISERIAL, VERTICAL.
1. Faces only looking towards one another.
2. Faces only looking away from one another.
3. Faces alternately looking towards and away from one another.
(A) All faces of equal size.
(B) Faces looking towards one another most prominent.
(C) Faces looking away from one another most prominent.

SERIES IV.—BISERIAL, HORIZONTAL.

SERIES V.—TRISERIAL (II. + III.).
I. _Vertical faces looking towards one another._
1. Horizontal faces looking the same way.
2. Horizontal faces alternately looking towards or away
from one another.
(A) All faces of equal size.
(B) Vertical faces monopolising pattern.
(_a_) Horizontal faces separate.
(_b_) Horizontal faces looking towards one another
grouped together.
(_c_) Horizontal faces looking away from one another
grouped together.
(C) Horizontal faces monopolising pattern.
(_a_) Horizontal faces separate.
(_b_) Horizontal faces looking towards one another
grouped together.
(_c_) Horizontal faces looking away from one another
grouped together.
II. _Vertical faces looking away from one another._

I. _Single row of faces disposed vertically, the faces alternately
looking up and down._

Fig. 10 is a reduced rubbing of the whole of the ornamentation of a
belt; to the left will be seen a face with two eyes, a nose, and a
large red mouth beset with teeth. The next face has only one eye, while
the other two faces are eyeless, and there is nothing distinctive about
their noses.

[Illustration: FIG. 10.—Cambridge Museum.]

[Illustration: FIG. 11.—Glasgow Museum.]

II. _Single row of faces disposed horizontally._

(1.) _The faces looking the same way._—The belt of Fig. 11 has four
faces, which are as degenerate as those in the last example; three of
these look one way, and the fourth, which is at one end of the pattern,
looks in the opposite direction. It is not unusual for a face to be
carved at each end of the decorated portion of a belt, and as these
faces almost always look towards the pattern, the anomaly of one face
in this belt looking a different way from the remainder is apparent
rather than real. But the most interesting feature in this belt is the
meander or fret pattern. The extremely degenerate face appears to be,
as in. Fig. 10, a red mouth containing an eye-spot; the central chevron
also occurs in Fig. 19, where it represents the nose.

[Illustration: FIG. 12.—Kerrama, Berlin Museum.]

(2.) _The faces alternately looking towards and away from one
another._—I will omit examples in which (_a_) _all the faces are
separate_, and (_b_) _the faces looking towards one another are grouped
together_, and pass on to (_c_) _the faces looking away from one
another are grouped together_. An elegant example of this is seen in
Fig. 12. The two pairs of eyes of the two faces which are turned away
from each other are represented by a single eye from which a horizontal
line extends on either side to the two mouths; each line represents
a nose, the nostrils of which are placed quite close to the eye. The
eyes are surrounded by simple red areas. The spaces between the mouths,
above and below the eye (speaking in terms of the belt, and not of
the faces), are occupied by additional mouths, which are evidently
inserted from a sense of symmetry; that they are supplemented, and not
essential, is proved by the absence of any nasal line connecting them
with the eye. The spirals below each mouth occur on several shields.

[Illustration: FIG. 13.—British Museum.]

An interesting belt (Fig. 13) exhibits quite a different modification
of the same motive. The pattern consists of a series of eight-rayed
figures with bent arms, and a central eye-spot. A comparison of these
figures with the eyes on masks, and other objects from this district,
proves that the six rays are but a symmetrical coalescence of two
pairs of eye-areas.[7] The angled double lines are clearly those
prolongations of the eye-area which in many cases tend to enclose the
mouth, and which probably represent the cheek-folds; and thus they
demonstrate the interpretation that each star is derived from two
horizontal faces which are looking away from each other, and of which
nothing remains but a confluent eye-area, enclosing a single eye. The
terminal faces are sufficiently normal; but if two such faces were
placed back to back, and the eye-areas were confluent, and the four
eyes fused into one, and finally the nose and mouth were eliminated,
we should have star-like figures resembling those which do occur. If a
reflector is placed across the eyes in the terminal face in Fig. 13 (at
right angles to the plane of the paper, and across the long axis of the
belt) a star-like figure can be seen, which is very similar to those in
the rest of the belt. This is one of the few belts that have no border
pattern.

[7] I have adopted the term “eye-area” to denote the eye
device, which includes the eye, the eye-lashes, and often the
cheek-fold of that side.

III. _Double row of faces disposed vertically._

(1.) _The faces only looking towards one another._—In the belt
represented in Fig. 14 there is a double row of faces which are placed
_vis-à-vis_. The figure illustrates varying degrees of degeneracy in
the faces; each space between a pair of faces is occupied by a large
red star with a central eye-spot. The representation of a lizard on
this belt is noteworthy.

[Illustration: FIG. 14.—British Museum.]

(2.) _The faces only looking away from one another._—In Fig. 15 it is
evident that we have a double series of faces which are placed back to
back; the two pairs of eyes are represented by a central eye. The noses
and mouths of the different faces are joined together and constitute a
fairly regular pattern.

(3.) _The faces alternately looking towards and away from one
another._—In this series the faces may all be equally developed, or
those facing one another may be most prominent, or, on the other hand,
those looking away from one another may monopolise the design.

[Illustration: FIG. 15.—Toaripi (Author’s Collection).]

[Illustration: FIG. 16.—Berlin Museum.]

A simple modification of the subdivision in which the faces are all
equal is to be found in Fig. 16. In this case the two eyes of each
face have amalgamated, and a short line represents the nose; but their
disposition is still typical. The oblique lines uniting the noses
are evidently the remains of the mouths of their respective faces; a
tooth-pattern may be present or absent. The chevrons merely fill up the
vacant angles. The terminal face is represented by a red three-rayed
area, containing an eye-spot.

IV. _Double row of faces disposed horizontally._

No example of this arrangement is known to me.

V. _Treble row of faces._

This is a composite series which is composed of Series II. and III. It
resolves itself into two main groups, the second of which, so far as I
am aware, is represented by only a single specimen.

(I.) _Vertical faces looking towards one another._—Owing to the variety
of their component elements the patterns in this series of belts are
liable to considerable variation, but there is no need to enter into an
analysis of the possible modifications.

In Fig. 17 we have an example of the preponderance of the horizontal
faces, while some of the vertical faces are extremely degraded.

[Illustration: FIG. 17.—Maiva, Berlin Museum.]

Fig. 18 represents a condition in which the vertical faces are
monocular; the line beneath the eye is evidently the suggestion of a
nose, and the angled dentate line indicates the mouth with its teeth.
All these faces are equally developed. The horizontal series of faces
belong to Series II., 2, _b_, as the faces looking towards one another
are grouped together. In the centre of each space between a pair of
vertical faces is a mouth which has to do duty for two horizontal
faces; on each side of this is a horizontal line which is a vestigial
nose, the arrow-head figure on which indicates the nostrils. The eye
between the mouths of the vertical faces represents two pairs of eyes
of the horizontal series.

(II.) _Vertical faces looking away from one another._—The only belt
with which I am acquainted which probably belongs to this subdivision
of the series is that reproduced in Fig. 19. The design is more regular
and sustained than is usually the case on these belts. The vertical
series of faces is represented by a median series of fused mouths
and eyes; the chevron band indicates the nose, on which nostrils may
be located close to the mouth or close to the eye. The eyes of the
vertical series of faces are enclosed within confluent eye-areas; the
median nose-line runs to the border pattern of the belt, but there is
no trace of a mouth. The border pattern is, I believe, unique on belts.

[Illustration: FIG. 18.—Edinburgh Museum.]

The bamboo tobacco-pipes are ornamented by scraping away some of the
rind of the bamboo and colouring the intaglio portions with brown
pigment; in these also the designs are based on human faces and their
derivatives; sometimes the human form is employed, and occasionally
zoomorphs are depicted.

It would be tedious to describe all the objects which are decorated by
these artistic people; enough examples have been given to illustrate
the style of their art. We cannot at present say why anthropomorphs
should predominate in so marked a degree. I suspect it has something
to do with the importance of initiation ceremonies combined with
the ancestor cult, which is a marked feature of the true Papuans. I
would also hazard the conjecture that animal totemism is not of such
prominence amongst these people as it was recently in Torres Straits,
and still is on the neighbouring coast of New Guinea and in Australia.

[Illustration: FIG. 19.—Museum of the London Missionary Society.]

IV.—THE CENTRAL DISTRICT.

In Yule Island, and in the vicinity of Hall Sound, and right away down
the coast of New Guinea as far as Cloudy Bay, we come across a fairly
uniform and rather uninteresting type of decorative art.

The designs are burnt into bamboo tobacco-pipes or gourds, “with a
glowing slice of the sheathing leaf of the coco-nut kept almost at a
white heat by the native artist blowing upon it. The end of the glowing
ember forms a fine point, which on being slowly moved along the desired
lines leaves indelible tracks.” (Lindt, _Picturesque New Guinea_, 1888,
p. 34.) In Cloudy Bay the natives scratch the design on the rind of the
bamboo before charring it; this tends to limit the burning, and to give
a hard edge to the lines. Here also the designs run along the length
of the pipes in distinct bands; in other parts of the Central District
longitudinal bands are broken by encircling bands, and are often
replaced by panels.

The employment of isolated, rectangular panels is very characteristic
of this district. On such objects as tobacco-pipes the panels must
from necessity follow one another more or less serially, but they need
not be co-ordinated into a definite pattern. When larger surfaces are
ornamented, as, for example, the bodies of women (Fig. 20, A, B),
the panels may also be somewhat irregularly disposed; but there is a
tendency, at all events in some places (as in the figure), for the
designs to have an orderly and symmetrical arrangement, but in no case
is there absolute symmetry.

[Illustration: FIG. 20, A.—Drawing of Tabuta, a Motu girl, by Rev. W.
Y. Turner, M.D. (from _Journ. Anth. Inst._, vii., 1878, Fig. 4, p. 480).

B.—Back view of the same. (The hair of this girl is incorrectly drawn,
it should be frizzly and not wavy.)]

A common form of panel is the Maltese cross (Fig. 21, H, I); perhaps
it would be more accurate to describe it as a light St. Andrew’s cross
on a dark rectangular panel. A combination of light St. George’s and
St. Andrew’s crosses on dark fields is very frequent; the arms of the
latter cross often become leaf-like, and may monopolise the field.
(Fig. 21, E, F.) Some travellers have suggested that these designs are
derived from the Union Jack, but this is not the case. Another kind of
panel is that shown in Fig. 21, G. Fig. 21, D, illustrates one form of
a common type of band pattern.

[Illustration: FIG. 21.—A. Design on a lime-gourd from Kerepunu; B.
Part of the decoration of a pipe from Maiva; C. Detail on a pipe from
Kupele, in the Berlin Museum; D-I. Designs on pipes—G from Kupele
(Berlin), H, I, from Koiari (Berlin). All the Figs. are to different
scales.]

One of the most widespread of the isolated designs is that shown in
Fig. 21, A, B, and Fig. 22, but it is subject to many variations.
Similar designs are tattooed on people below the armpit or on the
shoulder. Now that attention has been called to this and other designs,
we shall probably learn what significance is attached to them.
Occasionally we find what appear to be undoubted plant motives on
pipes and other objects from this district, as, for example, on a pipe
from Kupele in the Berlin Museum (Fig. 21, C), and it is probable that
the designs just alluded to are also plant derivatives.

[Illustration: FIG. 22. Part of the decoration of a pipe in the
Cambridge Museum; one-sixth natural size.]

Throughout this district, especially along the coast, the women are
tattooed, and in some localities they are entirely covered with tattoo
marks. The men are much less tattooed than the women.[8] The designs
employed are for the most part the same as those used to decorate pipes
and gourds. The angled design tattooed on the chests of women (Fig. 20,
A, B) is found on a pipe in the Cambridge Museum. (Fig. 22.)

[8] According to Mr. A. C. English, Government Agent for the
Rigo District, among the Sinaugolo tribe, the design Fig. 21,
D, is called _mulavapuli_, and is tattooed on both sexes as
a distinction for taking life; Fig. 21, H, I, _biubiu_, have
a similar value; the angled chest-marks (Fig. 20, A, B) are
called _boaroko_. (_Ann. Rep. British New Guinea_, 1893-94, pp.
68, 69.)

Noticeable features in the decorative art of this district are the
preponderance of straight lines over curved lines; as well as the
occurrence of dotted lines and of very short lines, which form a kind
of fringe to many of the lines. (Figs. 21, 22, 51.)

Very remarkable also is the absence of the delineation of the human or
of animal forms. Bounded on the north-west by a luxuriant art based on
human faces and forms, and limited to the south-east by bird-scrolls
and bird and crocodile derivatives, not to mention human effigies and
representations of various animals, these central folk are unaffected
by these two very distinct forms of artistic activity. The only
exceptions, so far as my evidence goes, is in the transitional country
north of Hall Sound, and a few carvings of crocodiles in certain tabu
houses or _dubus_.

The rigid conservatism of the native mind is the sheet-anchor of the
ethnographer; no better example of this mental rigidity is needed
than is supplied by the Motu people who live in the vicinity of Port
Moresby. The women make large quantities of pottery, which the men
trade for sago up the Papuan Gulf even to a distance of two hundred
miles. Three or more canoes lashed together and fitted with crates
constitute a trading canoe or _lakatoi_. A fleet of twenty _lakatoi_
carrying about six hundred men, each of whom would take about fifty
pots, has been known to sail from Port Moresby. The 20,000 or 30,000
exported pots will bring in exchange a cargo of 150 tons, or more, of
sago. Notwithstanding this great annual trading, the decorative art of
the Motu is absolutely untouched by that of the Gulf natives, or _vice
versâ_; the artistic motives, scheme of decoration, and technique are
entirely different.

It seems probable that many of the decorated objects that are labelled
in European museums as coming from this district are the work of the
hill tribes, or of that coast population which does not belong solely
to the Motu and allied tribes.

V.—THE MASSIM DISTRICT.

The country at the extreme south-east end of New Guinea round Milne
Gulf, together with the neighbouring groups of islands, constitutes a
natural province to which I have proposed to extend the name Massim.
For the history of this term the reader is referred to Professor
Hamy’s paper, “Étude sur les Papouas de la Mer d’Entrecasteaux” (_Rev.
d’Ethnogr._, vii., 1888, p. 503). The various archipelagoes which
collectively constitute this district are—(1) The Moresby Group,
including all the islands between Milne Gulf and Wari (Teste Island);
(2) the Louisiade Group, including Misima, Tagula (Sudest), and all
neighbouring islands; (3) the D’Entrecasteaux Group, including Duau
(Normanby Island), Goodenough, and the other islands; (4) the Trobriand
Group, the largest island in which is Kiriwina; and (5) the Woodlark
Group (Murua, etc.), and including Nada (the Laughlan Islands). There
is a considerable amount of indigenous trade between these islands.
For example, the Nada folk make annual trading voyages to Murua to
exchange coco-nuts for taro. Dr. Finsch says (_Samoafahrten_, 1888,
pp. 207-209), “A great many objects (such as the beautiful lime
calabashes) are bartered from the Woodlark Islands, the inhabitants of
which with their large sea-going canoes undertake extensive trading
voyages.... At all events Trobriand is visited from Normanby, Welle
[a small island close by the latter] and Woodlark Islands, for the
Trobrianders themselves probably do not undertake trading voyages.”
In describing the manufacture of earthen pots at Wari (Teste Island),
Finsch says (_Samoafahrten_, p. 281) the upper border of these pots
“exhibits various simple band patterns which are scratched with
fork-like bamboo instruments, and which serve not for ornament but as
trade marks. Thus here also each woman has her own mark with which
she signs her fabrication. The pottery has an extended sale as far as
the D’Entrecasteaux and to Chads Bay, South Cape, Woodlark Island,
and perhaps also to the Louisiades.” In my _Memoir_ (p. 223) I have
included a MS. description of the manufacture of pottery in the same
island, which was kindly placed at my disposal by Dr. H. O. Forbes, and
I also copied Dr. Forbes’ sketches. (Fig. 23.) The Wari people have
to import wood for their houses, and also, like the natives of the
Engineer Group, who are great traders, they procure canoes from Pannaet
(Deboyne Island). Owing to the trading which occurs amongst these
islands and with the mainland, it is very difficult to determine from
specimens of native work in European collections what style of work is
characteristic of each of these groups, especially as comparatively few
specimens are properly labelled. I have, however, but little doubt that
each group has characteristic designs and forms, and possibly in some
cases these may be peculiar to them.

[Illustration: FIG. 23.—Clay pot with an incised pattern, from Wari
(Teste Island), after a sketch by Dr. H. O. Forbes.]

Throughout the whole of this district one finds lime-spatulas,[9]
wooden clubs, canoe carvings, and other objects ornamented with
scrolls. Nowhere else in British New Guinea do we find the continuous
loop coil pattern, the guilloche, or loop coils. The spiral is absent
from the Torres Straits and Daudai, but present up the Fly River and
in the Papuan Gulf. It is absent again in the Central District, but
reappears in the Massim Archipelagoes. It is only in the last district
that we meet with a wealth of curved lines. What is the meaning of this?

[9] Southward of the Papuan Gulf, and in all the islands of
the south-eastern extremity of New Guinea, the natives chew
the betel-nut, and when chewing transfer quick-lime from
gourds (“lime-gourds”) to their mouths by means of flat carved
sticks (“lime-spatulas”). These vary greatly in form and in
the character of their carving. The intaglio is filled in with
lime, so that the design appears white on the polished ebony
handles. These objects are often called “chunam spoons,” but
they are never spoon-shaped, and there is no need to introduce
an Anglo-Tamil word for lime.

[Illustration: FIG. 24.—Rubbing of the half of one side of the handle
of a spatula in the author’s collection; one-third natural size.]

[Illustration: FIG. 25.—Rubbings of both sides of a float for a
fishing-net; one-half natural size.]

All over this district we find decorative art permeated with the
influence of the frigate bird. This beautiful bird is the sacred bird
of the West Pacific. I shall allude to it again in a later section.
The bird, or its head only, is often carved more or less in the
round, especially for the decoration of canoes. It must, however, be
remembered that such representations are conventional and not strictly
realistic.

The same head is repeated on the handle of a spatula (Fig. 24), the
curved tip of the beak of one bird forming the head of the bird
immediately in front of it. From this simple origin the varied and
beautiful scroll patterns have been developed. One important factor
in the evolution of this pattern has been the confining of the design
within narrow bands. When a band happens to be exceptionally broad, one
often finds that the pattern becomes erratic. Queer contorted designs
also result from the attempt to cover a relatively broad area, as in
Fig. 25. Here there is nothing to guide or restrain the artist, except
the boundary of the float; but on canoe carvings and some other objects
there are usually structural or vestigial features, round which the
design may be said to crystallise, and in these cases the pattern is
approximately or entirely symmetrical.

[Illustration: FIG. 26.—Rubbing of upper two-thirds of the decoration
of a club, in the Glasgow Museum; one-third natural size.]

[Illustration: FIG. 27. FIG. 28. FIG. 29. FIG. 30.

Rubbings of part of the decoration of clubs; one-third natural size.
Figs. 27 and 28, D’Entrecasteaux, Edinburgh Museum; Figs. 29 and 30,
Cambridge Museum.]

The triangular spaces left above and below the beaks in the bird-scroll
pattern are usually more or less filled up with crescentic lines, as
in Fig. 26. Sometimes they are blank, and in this case the triangles
may be coloured red instead of the white lime which is rubbed into
the carving. The eyes of the birds are, as often as not, omitted
altogether. (Figs. 27-30.) Their presence seems to have a conservative
effect on the design, for where absent the elements of the design may
slip upon or run into one another.

In Fig. 27 we have a good example of what I mean by the slipping of the
elements of the design, with the result that a guilloche is arrived at.
It will be noticed in this figure that the ends of the curved lines
are mostly joined by an oblique bar. These oblique bars have become
emphasised in Fig. 28, and a degeneration of the curved lines results
in a simple pattern.

An example of the elements of the design running into one another
is shown in Fig. 29, which, like the last two figures, is a reduced
rubbing of part of the decoration of a sword-shaped wooden club. The
band, shown in Fig. 30, is on the handle of the same club; the central
pattern is clearly a simplification of that on the blade of the club,
and it passes naturally into the zigzag carved below it.

[Illustration: FIG. 31.—Rubbing of the pattern round the upper margin
of a betel-pestle in the Cambridge Museum; one-third natural size.]

In a carved border round the top of a betel-pestle (Fig. 31) the
bird’s-head scroll has become simplified, and at the same time
developed into a more convolute scroll. A very degraded example is seen
in the upper band of Fig. 32.

It would be easy to multiply examples of simple and complex derivatives
of the bird’s-head motive, but these few will serve to demonstrate the
kind of modifications which occur.

[Illustration: FIG. 32.—Rubbing of part of the carved rim of a wooden
bowl from the D’Entrecasteaux Islands; one-third natural size.]

[Illustration: FIG. 33.—Rubbing of the handle of a turtle-shell
spatula, from the Louisiades, in the British Museum; one-half natural
size.]

Instead of only the head with its beak, the neck of the bird may be
introduced. Fig. 33 is from a rubbing of a beautiful spatula in the
British Museum, carved in turtle-shell (tortoise-shell); in it will
be seen the interlocking of birds’ beaks and of birds’ necks. If the
interlocking beaks were isolated we should get the band pattern which
runs along the concavity of the crescentic handle.

[Illustration: FIG. 34.—Rubbing of the decoration of one side of a
club; one-third natural size. The block is turned round to show the
pattern more clearly, the zigzag bands in reality run across the blade
of the flat club.]

The birds’ heads and necks are usually confined to bands, and the
design becomes subject to a new set of influences. A careful
inspection of Fig. 34 will give the key to many details that
may be found in carved objects from this district. In the band
immediately below the central band are seen the heads and necks of
three birds which have already undergone a slight transformation.
In the corresponding band above the central band a bird is readily
recognisable, but those on each side of it have degenerated into looped
coils. The other designs can easily be recognised as bird derivatives.

The birds’ heads and necks may be so arranged in a linear series that
interlocking takes place. In some cases one can distinguish between the
beaks and the necks; in others, as, for example, in the outer bands of
Fig. 35, this is impossible. The interlocking of the beaks or necks,
as the case may be, and the isolation of the involved parts, has given
rise to the central pattern on this spatula. Simple or complex coils
like the last are of frequent occurrence in decorated objects from
these islands. Both kinds of coil are found in Fig. 34, and by far the
greater number of them can be proved to be bird derivatives.

[Illustration: FIG. 35.—Rubbing of the handle of a spatula in the
British Museum; one-third natural size.]

The eyes of the heads in such a pattern as the two outer bands of
Fig. 35 may disappear, and here also the elements of the design may
fuse with each other. These two phases of decadence have overtaken the
pattern shown in Fig. 36, A, which is the decoration of a spatula with
a three-sided handle; on another side (B) the degeneration has advanced
a stage, and on the third side (C) it has run its course, and again the
bird-motive has degenerated into a zigzag.

[Illustration: FIG. 36.—Rubbings of the three sides of the handle of
a spatula from the D’Entrecasteaux, in the Dublin Museum; one-half
natural size.]

[Illustration: FIG. 37.—A, B. Sketches of two stages of the “bird
bracket” of two spatulas, probably from the Woodlarks, in the author’s
collection, C, D. Analogous details from canoe carvings—C. From a
photograph; D. From a specimen in the Edinburgh Museum. Not drawn to
the same scale.]

Some spatulas have small lateral adjuncts or “brackets,” as I have
elsewhere termed them. In spatulas which come, I believe, from the
Trobriands and Woodlarks, these brackets are often carved to represent
two birds’ heads, whose necks are united together over their heads
(Fig. 37, A). I have examples of these showing a degeneration into a
simple scroll (Fig. 37, B). The same is taking place on a club (Fig.
38), where several phases of modification are illustrated, one result
of which is that the beaks break away from their respective heads; the
design in the left-hand lower corner is clearly an extreme stage, where
each beak is represented by two small marks. This can be compared with
the design in the right-hand lower corner of Fig. 39, where further
simplification has occurred. The mark in the centre of the design is
the relic of the four which occur in the last figure, and these are the
disrupted remains of the beaks of the two birds. The other spirals in
this figure are serial repetitions of the involved bird’s eye of the
lower design; the limitation of these within narrow bands causes their
elongation, and from these we are led to the concentric ovals. All the
concentric ovals met with in this district may not have been arrived at
in this manner, but those in Fig. 39 appear to have had this origin.

[Illustration: FIGS. 38 and 39.—Rubbings of the decorations of clubs in
the Dublin Museum; one-third natural size.]

To return again to Fig. 37, in A and B we have two phases of the
bird-bracket on spatulas; C and D are analogous designs in which the
birds’ beaks are also united; these are details from canoe carvings.

[Illustration: FIG. 40.—Rubbing of the central longitudinal band of
a club from the D’Entrecasteaux, in the Edinburgh Museum; one-third
natural size.]

[Illustration: FIG. 41.—Rubbing of part of the decoration of a club
from the D’Entrecasteaux, in the Edinburgh Museum; one-third natural
size.]

A simplified type of bird’s head and neck is seen in Fig. 40. Probably,
owing to the narrow space at his disposal, the artist omitted the
typical curvature of the beak. In the centre of the band a looped
arrangement is to be seen. It is very tempting to imagine that the
central band of Fig. 41 has had a similar origin. It is possible,
however, that it may be an aberrant modification of the serial bird’s
head design. I have no doubt that it is a bird derivative.

In this district, but principally, I believe, on the mainland and in
the neighbouring islands, we find carvings which represent a bird and
a crocodile; often this design forms the handles of paddles, spatulas,
and axes (Fig. 45, A). I have not at present direct proof that the
animal is a crocodile, but I have sufficient evidence to warrant the
assumption.

With but very few exceptions the bird has a hooked beak; often it is
provided with a crest. Normally it has a body and wings, but never any
legs. Only the head with the eye, jaws, and tongue of the crocodile are
carved. The bird is undoubtedly based on the frigate-bird, but the
crest is a gratuitous addition; in a few instances it seems as if the
artist had a hornbill in his mind.

[Illustration: Fig. 42.—Bird and Crocodile designs, Massim Archipelago.

A. Canoe carving from Wari (Teste Island); about two-ninths natural
size.

B. Handle of a paddle in the Cambridge Museum; one-half natural size.

C. Handle of a spatula in the Leiden Museum; three-sevenths natural
size.

D. Handle of a spatula from Tubutubu (Engineer Group), in the Cambridge
Museum; three-sevenths natural size.

E. Handle of a paddle in the Cambridge Museum; three-sevenths natural
size.]

The body and wings of the bird are frequently omitted, then the neck
disappears; in some examples only the eye and hooked beak persist (Fig.
42, B, D), and in one or two examples known to me the eye alone remains
of the vanished bird.

The eye of the crocodile may develop into a grooved sigmoid curve,
or degenerate into a simple loop. One or both jaws may terminate in
a loop; the teeth are more often absent than present; in one spatula
they occur on the tongue only (Fig. 42, C). The tongue usually reaches
the bird, but it may be quite short; though generally straight, it may
be carved and may terminate in a small bird’s head; indeed, either
jaw may occasionally have a similar termination. For a selection of
characteristic modifications of this motive I would refer the reader
to Plate XII. of my _Memoir_, from which I have borrowed the examples
seen in Fig. 42. Of these A is a conventional but readily recognisable
representation of both the bird and the crocodile; B, C, D are
varieties which present no difficulty of interpretation, and E is a
slightly carved handle of a paddle in which the design is very greatly
simplified.

The decorative art of the outlying Trobriands (Kiriwina) and Woodlark
(Murua) Groups appears to differ in many respects from that which is
characteristic of the other groups of this district; this is especially
noticeable in the lime-gourds, and on the oval-painted shields.

The north-east coast of British New Guinea is now being opened up by
the Administrator, Sir William MacGregor, but as yet no specimens of
its decorative art have found their way to British museums.

VI.—RELATION OF THE DECORATIVE ART TO THE ETHNOLOGY OF BRITISH NEW
GUINEA.

A general survey of the decorative art of British New Guinea clearly
reveals the fact that there are distinct æsthetic schools, if the
term may be permitted, in each of which there is a characteristic set
of motives and also of forms and technique. The boundaries of these
districts are not sharply defined, but, although our knowledge is still
imperfect, they can in most cases be traced with sufficient exactitude.
I expect that the Papuan Gulf district will be found to extend from
the Fly River to Cape Possession (long. 146° 25´ E.), and that the Fly
River district proper must be confined to what I have termed its Middle
Region, and perhaps the upper reaches of that river as well.

We may then take these five districts for granted. The question now
presents itself: What is the meaning of their distinctness? I do not
think we have at present sufficient evidence to enable us to do more
than make suggestions as to possible causes, and naturally ethnology is
first appealed to. Are these differences due to ethnic diversity?

Many of those who have written on the natives of British New Guinea
have not sufficiently distinguished between the numerous tribes in our
Possession, and they speak in vague terms of the Papuans as if they
were all alike. Now this is by no means the case, and before we can
gain an adequate comprehension of Papuan ethnography and ethnology we
must clearly distinguish between the characteristics of the various
tribes, their customs, languages, and handicrafts.

There is still much discussion concerning the limitation of the term
Papuan as applied to people, and even whether it should not be dropped
altogether, as Professor Sergi suggests. The Italian anthropologist
extends the term Melanesian not only to comprise the natives of all
the Western Oceanic islands, including New Guinea and the adjacent
islands, but also Australia. At present I adhere to what Mr. Ray and
myself[10] have considered to be the most convenient course, and to
employ the term Papuan for what appear to be the autocthones of New
Guinea. By Melanesians we understand the present inhabitants of the
great chain of islands off the east of New Guinea, and extending down
to New Caledonia. These terms are used to designate peoples, not races;
neither are pure races, and at present we are unable to gauge the
amount of race mixture in either, or even to state precisely what are
their components.

[10] S. H. Ray and A. C. Haddon, “A Study of the Languages of
Torres Straits,” _Proc. Roy. Irish Acad._, 1893, p. 509.

From the boundary of Netherlands New Guinea to Cape Possession on
the eastern coast of the Papuan Gulf, and inland from these coasts,
the natives are dark, frizzly-haired Papuans; typically they are a
dolichocephalic people, and rather short in stature.

The Papuans also occupy the greater part of the south-east peninsula of
New Guinea; but along the southern coast-line, almost uninterruptedly
from Cape Possession to the farthest island of the Louisiades, is an
immigrant Melanesian population, about whom I shall have more to say
presently.

I will now enumerate a few facts which will clearly bring out the
essential distinction between these two peoples.

We have not at present a sufficient amount of data on the physical
characters of the two peoples by skilled observers to enable us to
formulate what differences there may be between them. There is no doubt
that the Papuans are more uniformly dark than are the Melanesians (I
am now referring solely to the Melanesians in British New Guinea),
and their hair is as constantly frizzly. Among the Melanesians
light-coloured people are constantly met with, as are also individuals
with curly and occasionally straight hair. Their skulls exhibit many
variations, and are occasionally brachycephalic. Judging from my
experience of the Western Papuans, the Papuan men usually sit with
their legs crossed under them like a tailor, whereas the Melanesians
squat, like a Malay, usually with their haunches just off the ground.
I do not know whether this rule holds good for the Papuans of the
south-east peninsula.

The Western Papuans may or may not scarify their skin, as in Torres
Straits, but they do not tattoo; the Melanesians tattoo themselves,
especially the women. Tattooing has, however, spread to a certain
extent among the Papuan hill tribes of the peninsula; the Koitapu
women appear to have thoroughly followed the fashion of their Motu
neighbours; amongst the Koiari and other hill tribes it occurs only
occasionally. The =V=-shaped chest mark _gado_ (Fig. 20) occurs among
the Motu and Loyalupu, but not east of Keppel Bay. Among the two former
the tattooing lacks symmetry, but in Aroma curved lines become more
frequent and asymmetrical figures have a bilateral symmetry with regard
to the body.

The houses of the Gulf and Western Papuans are often of great size
and contain numerous families, and there appears to be more club-life
among the men. The houses of the Melanesians are smaller, each family
possessing one; those in the Trobriand Group are not built on piles.
Very characteristic of the Papuans are the houses which are confined to
the use of the men. These houses are the focus of the social life of
the men, and as religion among savages is largely social usage, it is
also in connection with these structures that most of their religious
observances are held.

The initiation of lads into manhood is accompanied with sacred
ceremonies in some of the Papuan tribes, but, so far as is known,
by none of the Melanesians in New Guinea. Masks are usually, perhaps
invariably, worn at these ceremonies, and the bull-roarer is swung
and shown to the lads. There is no record of a bull-roarer among the
Melanesian folk.

Masks are employed by many peoples during certain ceremonies; their
distribution in New Guinea is interesting, as it will be found that
in the British Possession they characterise the Papuan as opposed to
the Melanesian elements. They were common in Torres Straits, have been
obtained in Daudai, and are very abundant in the Papuan Gulf from
Maclatchie Point to Cape Possession.

Dancing may be a secular amusement or a ceremonial exercise; in both
aspects it is largely practised by the Papuans proper. We have very few
accounts of dances among the Melanesians, and these do not appear to be
of a specially interesting character.

Of their weapons the stone-club is alone common to all the tribes. The
use of the bow and arrow is confined to the Papuans, and is universally
employed to the west and in the Papuan Gulf. Heavy, sword-like, wooden
clubs and wooden spears are common among the Melanesians, and the sling
is employed in the D’Entrecasteaux Islands.

Only the Melanesians make pottery.

The Papuans earlier adopted tobacco, and grew their own tobacco before
the white man came, but they do not chew the betel to any great extent;
quite the reverse is the case with the Melanesians.

I have now enumerated a sufficient body of evidence to demonstrate that
two groups of people inhabit British New Guinea. We have now to see
whether a further analysis is possible.

Our knowledge of the Western Papuans is too imperfect for any definite
generalisations to be made at present, but I venture to present the
following tentative suggestions:—

The most typical Papuans in the British Protectorate are probably
the bush tribes from the Dutch boundary to the back of the Gulf of
Papua. They are gradually being pushed inwards by the coast people.
Macfarlane contrasts the high and broad skull of the latter with the
“long, narrow skull, with its low forehead and prominent zygomatic
bones,” of the former, whom he also states are “greatly inferior, both
mentally and physically.” The observations of d’Albertis of a racial
mixture in this region are supported by de Quatrefages and Hamy. The
Torres Straits islanders are also a mixed people. I do not think we
have sufficient evidence before us to decide what are the component
races of these Western Papuans. I suspect that the Fly River is to
a slight extent what may be termed a “culture route,” and that the
natives of the higher reaches have indirect communication with those of
the north coast of New Guinea; for example, the rattan armour collected
by d’Albertis high up the river is similar to that obtained by Finsch
from Angriffs Haven, near Humboldt Bay, and recalls the coir armour of
Micronesia; it is probable that this was the route by which tobacco
found its way to Torres Straits and the Gulf district, and thence to
the south-east.

The Papuans also extend down the south-east peninsula and into the
adjacent island groups. On the mainland they have been conquered in
certain places by Melanesian immigrants, and a mixture of these two
peoples has taken place to a variable extent. In the islands the
amalgamation has been more complete.

The immigrant people are by the majority of writers spoken of as
Polynesians. This identification is apparently based solely on the
lighter colour of some of the former than that of the Papuans proper,
and on numerous words common to them and the Polynesians.

The light colour of the skin and the occasional presence of curly or
even straight hair among some of the people of British New Guinea
certainly proves a racial mixture, although Comrie and Finsch do not
lay much stress on these points. The latter (_Samoafahrten_,
p. 234) writes:—“The natives of Bentley Bay, as at East Cape, are of
a tolerably light skin colour and belong to what the ignorant would
explain as a Malay mixture. But wrongly, for they are true Papuans,
amongst whom the individual occurrence of curly, even of smooth
hair, is of no consequence.” The craniology of the natives of the
south-eastern peninsula and neighbouring islands has been studied by
Comrie, Flower, Mikloucho-Maclay, de Quatrefages, Hamy, and Sergi, most
of whom admit with Flower “a considerable mixture of races among the
inhabitants of this region of the world.” As at present anthropography
cannot speak with precision concerning the racial elements in this
immigrant people, we must turn to other branches of anthropology, and
we will see what light ethnography and linguistics can throw on this
ethnological problem.

A comparison of Papuan and Melanesian customs and handicrafts will
prove that there is little of real importance in common, say, between
the Motu or the South Cape natives and the Samoans. I need only allude
to the almost total absence of a system of cosmogony or of a pantheon
with a definite mythology; associated with this lack of a theology is
the absence of an organised priestcraft. The democratic Papuans and
Melanesians have no hereditary chieftainship, and the power of tabu is
much more limited than in Polynesia. Strangely enough, these so-called
“Polynesians” in South-East New Guinea make pottery and do not drink
kava. There is also a well-marked distinction between the weapons,
implements, etc., and the decorative art of the New Guinea people and
those of the Polynesians.

For the linguistic evidence I have consulted my friend and colleague,
Mr. S. H. Ray, who is our great authority on the languages of Western
Oceania. In an essay in my _Memoir_[11] he discusses this question,
and as most is known about the Motu language of the neighbourhood
of Port Moresby, he takes this as a basis for comparison; what is
proved for this applies, in all probability, to the other Melanesian
languages of British New Guinea. “Much could be written to show that it
is with the Melanesian tongues that the Motu of New Guinea should be
included and not with the Polynesian. The same method applied to the
Kerepunu, the Aroma, Suau, and other dialects akin to the Motu, points
to the same relationship. The Motu grammar is entirely Melanesian
and non-Polynesian. Such words as are common to it and the Eastern
Polynesian are equally common to the whole of Melanesia. Melanesian
words which are non-Polynesian are also found in Motu and the allied
languages of New Guinea.”

[11] _The Decorative Art of British New Guinea_, p. 263.

I had long been puzzled by certain differences between the Motu and
allied tribes on the coast of British New Guinea and the natives round
Milne Gulf and of the neighbouring groups of islands, all of whom I
speak of collectively as the Massim.

There is a difference in their physiognomy. The Motu and allied tribes
are remarkably destitute of a religion, and are (or were) at the mercy
of the sorcerers of the indigenous hill tribes, and, what is more
remarkable, there is no trace of the cult of the sacred frigate-bird
or of that of any other animal. They make their pottery by beating a
lump of clay into a pot, whereas, according to the only descriptions we
have, the Massim women build up their pots with bands of clay laid in
spirals. A study of my _Memoir_ on the decorative art of British New
Guinea will clearly bring out the enormous difference between the Motu
and the Massim in artistic feeling and execution.

My knowledge of Melanesia was too slight to enable me to proceed
further with this problem, but in a recently published paper Mr.
Ray says[12]:—“With regard to the place of origin of the Melanesian
population of New Guinea it does not seem possible to ascertain the
exact quarter from which it has come. There is at first sight much
dissimilarity between the languages west and east, between the Motu
and Kerepunu on the one side and the Suau of South Cape on the other.
Though this dissimilarity disappears on closer examination, it may be
stated that the language of Suau appears very similar to those of San
Cristoval in the Solomon Islands, which lies almost due east of South
Cape. The Motu and Kerepunu agree more with the languages of the Efate
district in the Central New Hebrides.”

[12] S. H. Ray, “The Languages of British New Guinea,” _Jour.
Anth. Inst._, xxiv., 1894, p. 32.

Further evidence must be collected before Mr. Ray’s suggestion can be
definitely accepted. The decorative employment of the frigate-bird in
the Massims and Solomon Islands supports his first proposition; but, on
the other hand, inlaying with shell and nacre is very characteristic
of the Solomon Islands, and this is absent from the Massims; there are
besides many other points of difference. So far as I am acquainted
with photographs of natives from the New Hebrides I do not see any
resemblance between them and the Motu, but it must be borne in mind
that there can be culture-drift without appreciable actual mixture,
though amongst savage peoples the latter must to a certain extent be
concurrent.

To return to the Papuan peoples of British New Guinea. It is probable
that these are also a mixed people, and not a race in the ethnological
sense of the term. Owing to continual inter-tribal warfare, or at
least mutual distrust, there has not been much intercourse between the
inhabitants of different districts; this may partly account for such
distinct styles of art as occur in Daudai and the Papuan Gulf. I have
already hinted that influences from North-Western New Guinea may have
penetrated down the Fly River, but a discussion of the latter question
opens up complicated problems of Malaysian ethnography into which I
cannot now enter.

VII.—NOTE ON THE SCROLL DESIGNS OF BRITISH NEW GUINEA.

The occurrence of scrolls and spirals in South-East New Guinea, and
their general resemblance to certain Maori patterns, have led several
observers to believe that there may have been intercourse between
New Guinea and New Zealand. As this problem raises some interesting
questions I have thought it desirable to discuss it, but to do so
adequately would take far more room than can here be spared.

Mr. Goodyear makes out a good case for the view that some, at least, of
the spiral scroll motives in Malaysia are due to Mohammedan influence;
but he probably goes too far in ascribing all the scrolls of the
decorative art of the Malay Archipelago to that source. “The ornamental
system of India was in the first instance, as known to us, Buddhist,
under Greek influences; second, Arab-Mohammedan. The spiral scroll
ornament of modern India is a mixture and survival of the two. (The
more formal classic style of old Buddhist ornament has disappeared in
India.) This is the ornamental system of the Malay Archipelago.... The
present ornamental system of Malaysia is mainly the Mohammedan-Arab,
which is derived from Byzantine Greek. The Malay alphabet, the
Malay ornament, the Malay religion, and the Malay culture are all
derived from India.... The spiral scroll is absolutely foreign to the
ornamental systems of Polynesia.

“There only remains the case of New Guinea and New Zealand. Not
only does New Guinea border directly on the Malay Islands, but it
is geographically part of Malaysia. [Mr. Goodyear is wrong in this
statement, as in its geology,[13] fauna, and flora New Guinea is
essentially Australian.] The princes of the Island of Tidore have
actually been the potentates of the Northern Coast of New Guinea. The
New Guinea ornamental system shows degraded and barbaric forms of the
Mohammedan spiral scrolls of Malaysia. From these once more are derived
the spiral scroll ornaments of New Zealand.”[14]

[13] Haddon, Sollas, and Cole, “On the Geology of Torres
Straits,” _Trans. Royal Irish Acad._, vol. xxx., 1894, p. 419.

[14] _Architectural Record_, ii., 1893, p. 412.

The problem is by no means so simple as the reader might infer from
Mr. Goodyear’s remarks. It does not appear that he sufficiently allows
for ethnic influence in decorative art. My contention is that we must
first try to obtain a definite conception of the racial elements in a
given people before we can expect to thoroughly comprehend their art.
According to my experience, the more backward the people, the less
they borrow artistic motives. Why should they? Their ornament has to
them a significance and associations which foreign decoration lacks;
the latter appeals to them no more than does Mexican or Mangaian
ornament to us. From their mental attitude they are far less likely to
copy foreign designs than are we. I have already (p. 65) adduced an
interesting example of this when I compared the art of the Motu folk
with that of the Gulf Papuans.

Malaysia is peopled by various races, of which the Malay stock is
undoubtedly predominant, but the latter is regarded as having been,
comparatively speaking, a late wave of migration, and probably the
advent of the Malay was the disturbing cause which initiated the
wanderings of the Polynesians (or Sawaiori, as Mr. A. H. Keane terms
them).

Even in Oceania the problem is complicated by the now generally
received fact of an earlier population of many of the islands by
Melanesians. Personally, I believe we can find distinct traces of
their artistic skill in the decorative art which we are accustomed
to put down as “Polynesian”; indeed, I suspect that most of the
Oceanic wood-carving is due to Melanesian influence, although it now
illustrates Sawaiori mythology.

I have not yet studied the decorative art of the Malay Archipelago; but
as my friend, Professor Hickson, has, I will quote what he has said on
the subject:—“From collections in museums it might be supposed that
the Malays are very artistic; this is perhaps due to the fact that
collectors frequently will only obtain implements and the like that are
ornamented with curious coloured designs and figures, and leave behind
all the spears, shields, and the like that are not so ornamented; the
result being that an unfair proportion of ornamented things appear in
the cabinets of the museum. I am inclined to believe that the Malays
are not artistic, and that the few ornamented designs of their own are
very poor and primitive.”[15] After alluding to the ruined temples
in Sumatra and Java, and the complicated patterns on the people’s
costumes, he continues, “but this is not Malay art. It is the art that
was brought by Buddhist priests in the third century, according to
Fa-hien, the Chinese pilgrim from Further India.

[15] _The Academy_, 30th May 1891, No. 995, p. 519; also
_Journal of the Cambridge Ant. Soc._, vii., p. 293.

“Nor should we judge of Malay art from the specimens obtained in Timor,
Aru, Timor Laut, and Ceram, for in these islands there is undoubtedly
a very great influence from the mixture of the race with the Papuans.
In Celebes, South Borneo, and the Moluccas, there is very little art;
and this is due, I believe, to the fact that there has been very little
Buddhist influence and very little Papuan influence.

“The chief character of Malay art, if it can be so called, is the
absence of any good curves. Nearly all their designs are angular, and
those that they have copied from other races have a tendency to become
angular.” The implements, weapons, cloths, etc., “of the people are
frequently, if not usually, unornamented, in striking contrast to
similar things among the Papuans. Nothing could be more impressive than
the contrast in this respect between a Malay and a Papuan village.”

There can be no doubt that the decorative art of North-West New Guinea
has been affected by influences from Malaysia; but it is very doubtful
whether this has penetrated very far inland, or even very far down the
coast.

It must be remembered that the Papuans, and Melanesians generally,
are a fierce people, and there is, as a rule, very little intercourse
indeed between various tribes, in fact there is an almost continual
condition of inter-tribal war. In a country containing great mountain
ranges, dense jungles, or extensive swamps, with no roads, and
innumerable tribes speaking different languages, and at enmity with
one another, it is difficult to see how artistic motives could readily
travel. There are only two possible routes, rivers and the coast-line.

I have elsewhere[16] stated that the Fly River “has been to a certain
extent what may be termed a ‘culture route,’ and that the natives of
the higher reaches have indirect communication with those of the north
coast of New Guinea.”

[16] _The Decorative Art of British New Guinea_, 1894, p. 256.

If any one will take the trouble to study the evidence I have
collected, it will, I think, be incontestable that the scroll designs
of the extreme south-east point of New Guinea and of the adjacent
islands could not have come overland. With the possible exception of
the central region of the Fly River, about which we at present know
very little, I can see no traces of “Malayan” culture in the decorative
art of British New Guinea.

The evidence at our disposal certainly points to the conclusion
that the bulk, at all events, of the natives of the Louisiades,
D’Entrecasteaux, and neighbouring islands and mainland are sea-borne
immigrants. And if their scroll designs have not been developed in the
district where they now reside, we must seek for their origin in the
ancestral home of these travellers. I have discussed this question in
my _Memoir_ (pp. 258-269), and have stated it in a more concise form in
_Science Progress_, vol. ii. (1894), pp. 91-95, and have come to the
conclusion, which is shared by Mr. S. H. Ray, on linguistic grounds,
that no Malay influence can be shown, but that the people came from the
great chain of Melanesian islands which stretches from the Admiralty
Islands to New Caledonia, and possibly from the Solomon group. Nowhere
in the Melanesian Archipelago do we find scroll designs comparable
with those of the district of New Guinea now under consideration.
The conclusion, then, seems inevitable, that until further evidence
is adduced we must regard these scroll designs as having originated
in this district, and in the manner I have demonstrated—_i.e._, from
birds’ heads.

To pass on to New Zealand. Although we have innumerable specimens of
the beautiful and very characteristic wood-carving of New Zealand
in our museums and in private collections, yet no one has seriously
studied the art, or has offered a satisfactory explanation of it.

It is generally admitted that there was a Melanesian population on
the group before the Maoris arrived some six hundred years ago. The
latter probably came from some of the islands between Samoa and Tahiti,
probably mainly from Rarotonga.

The scroll designs have no resemblance to the patterns from the
Rarotongan region of Oceania. The only examples of this particular
technique occur in one or two weapons from Fiji; these are of typical
Fijian shapes, but the carving is in the New Zealand manner. One of
these is in Baron von Hügel’s collection in Cambridge, and another is
in the British Museum. I have no explanation to offer for these facts
that is satisfactory to myself. Apart from one or two isolated Fijian
specimens, the wood-carving of New Zealand is unique.

[Illustration: FIG. 43.—Rubbing of the decoration of a Maori flute, in
the Natural History Museum, Belfast; one-half natural size.]

Some of the New Zealand patterns (Fig. 43, and Plate VI., Fig. 12)
certainly have a superficial resemblance to the more typical scroll
patterns from the South-Eastern Archipelago of New Guinea, but there is
no ground for comparing them except for this casual resemblance. The
bird element is entirely lacking, and there is far less interlocking
in the Maori than in the Papuan scrolls; there are also noticeable
technical differences. My impression is that the carved designs have
been derived mainly from tattooing, and possibly also partly from the
dismemberment which so often befalls the conventionalised carvings
of their ancestral figures. (Plate VI., Fig. 11.) When one looks at
tattooed Maori heads or carvings of human figures one finds that
rounded surfaces, such as the wings of the nose, the cheeks, the
shoulders and thighs are usually decorated with spiral designs; this is
in such places an appropriate device, as it accentuates the features
which are ornamented, and personally I am inclined to believe that
artistic fitness is the explanation of this employment of the spiral,
and that it has been transferred to other objects as being a pleasing
design, and that connecting lines have been made to give coherence
to the decoration. It is worth noting that in early European art the
shoulders and haunches of animals are often decorated with spirals.[17]

[17] See, for example, Plate VII., Figs. 2, 5.

THE MATERIAL OF WHICH PATTERNS ARE MADE.

Having sketched the main features of the decorative art of a definite
locality, I now pass on to a different field, and will select examples
from every age and clime, in order to illustrate the life-histories of
a number of designs. In this I have a twofold object. First, I wish to
indicate in this section the material out of which designs and patterns
are formed—the objective originals which become gradually transformed
into æsthetic conceptions; and, secondly, I also wish to illustrate the
fact that this process of transformation is confined to no one people.

We shall see that the originals of decorative art are mainly either
natural or artificial objects, and the latter will first claim our
attention.

I.—THE DECORATIVE TRANSFORMATION AND TRANSFERENCE OF ARTIFICIAL
OBJECTS.

Dr. H. Colley March has introduced the term “Skeuomorph”[18] for
the forms of ornament demonstrably due to structure. Professor G.
Semper[19] “was the first to show that the basket-maker, the weaver,
and the potter originated those combinations of line and colour which
the ornamentist turned to his own use when he had to decorate walls,
cornices, and ceilings.” So write MM. Perrot and Chipiez;[20] but this
statement is too sweeping. A considerable amount of ornamentation is
doubtless due to technique, but in Europe, Western Asia, and North
Africa plant forms have had a great influence in the origin of designs,
some of which have been modified by passing through a textile technique.

[18] From τὰ σκεύε, implements, utensils, tools, baggage,
tackle, dresses.

[19] G. Semper, _Der Stil in den technischen und tektonischen
Künsten oder praktische Aesthetik_. Munich, 1860-63, 2 vols.
(Second Edition, 1878-79.)

[20] G. Perrot and C. Chipiez, _A History of Art in Ancient
Egypt_, ii. p. 356, 1883.

Given any object, two forces, so to speak, attack it—the utilitarian
and the æsthetic. The resultant may be an implement which is solely
useful and has little or no beauty to recommend it; or while retaining
a full measure of utility, it may be beautified in form or in surface
decoration; or, lastly, the object may become so glorified by the
artist as to be translated from earthly use into the realm of æsthetics.

1. _Transformation of a Solitary Object._

There are numerous examples of the annihilation of the useful by the
beautiful. One instance came under my notice at the Murray Islands,
in Torres Straits. Formerly when a girl was engaged to be married,
in addition to numerous petticoats she wore a number of ornaments
suspended from her neck and hanging down her back. The more important
of these were white triangular pieces of shell, _o_, cut out of _Conus
millepunctatus_; turtle-shell (“tortoise-shell”) bodkins (_ter_), used
for shredding the leaves of which their petticoats were made, and for
piercing the septum of the nose of infants; turtle-shell fish-hooks,
and curious turtle-shell ornaments which are called _sabagorar_. These
latter vary considerably in size, form, and amount of decoration;
but by placing a number of them together a sequence can be obtained
which illustrates the evolution of the _sabagorar_ from the fish-hook
(Fig. 44). Some hook-like objects are slightly ornamented with incised
lines, and they might very well serve as fish-hooks; others are
clearly totally unfitted for practical use, and may be quite plain or
decorated. Fish-hooks (Fig. 44, A) are used in pairs, being fastened
at each end of a piece of fine string, which, in its turn, is tied at
its middle to the fishing-line proper. When the piece of twine with its
hooks was thrown round a girl’s neck, the two hooks would often hang
down her back shank to shank. Two _sabagorar_ similarly arranged occur
in the British Museum collections. What more natural than that this
should be noticed, and to save the trouble of making two _sabagorar_
a double one should be cut out of one piece of turtle-shell. The more
remotely from the fish-hook did the _sabagorar_ vary, the larger it
became, and in some instances the double form became of considerable
size, and the hook portion acquired a slight spiral curvature (Fig.
44, K). In one modified specimen the hooks are actually fused with
the shank (Fig. 44, L). It will be also seen that divergent =Λ=-like
processes often occur on the _sabagorar_, but are never found on the
fish-hook.

[Illustration: FIG. 44.—Turtle-shell ornaments worn in Torres Straits.
The ratio of size of the illustrations to the originals is as 4:15. A.
Ordinary fish-hook, made of turtle-shell. B-L. Series of ornaments,
probably derived from fish-hooks, made of turtle shell. All in the
British Museum, from a photograph by Mr. H. Oldland, of the British
Museum.]

The betrothal equipment of a girl thus consisted in the main of
objects of utility which had reference to her future condition. The
turtle-shell objects being easily cut, afforded a convenient field
for ornamentation, and most of the _ter_ implements exhibit a little
decoration. The comparatively slender fish-hooks provided insufficient
surface for ornamentation; the broadening of them for decorative
purposes reduced their efficiency, so that in time the latter was
sacrificed and a mere ornament resulted.

In the chain of islands which stretch away from the south-eastern end
of New Guinea, one finds an interesting metamorphosis of the stone
axe. The stone axe was very precious among these people, to whom the
art of working in metals is still unknown. A large fine axe would have
very considerable value, and the exhibition of it would be a symbol
of wealth, and consequently of power. The desire to be recognised as
wealthy has resulted in the development of a stone axe of which the
stone is very large, often remarkably thin and beautifully polished,
and is hafted to an unwieldy handle which may be carved and decorated
with shell-money and other ornaments. The value of such an object seems
to depend upon the amount of work required to produce it; its inutility
enhances the reputation of the wealth of its possessor; thus we appear
to arrive at certain primitive conceptions. Work done gives ownership
or property. One form of wealth is the possession of unnecessary or
useless property; the exhibition of this gives power to the owner.

[Illustration: FIG. 45.—Sketches of two axes from the South-east
Peninsula of New Guinea in the possession of the author; about
one-tenth natural size.]

I have made sketches (Fig. 45) of two axes in my possession. The first
(A) is decorated with characteristic ornamentation, consisting in the
upper part of birds’ heads and at the handle of the bird and crocodile
design; but it is still a useful implement. The second axe (B) has a
large thin stone, and is an unwieldy and probably quite useless object.

The late Mr. H. H. Romilly[21] tells us that at Utian (Brooker Island),
in the Louisiades, “The stone implements made here are very fine. I
got some axes of enormous size, which I am sure could not be intended
for use. They seemed rather to be a common possession; perhaps two or
three belonged to the village, and were exhibited on state occasions.”
The Rev. Dr. W. Wyatt Gill,[22] at South Cape, saw “two axes solemnly
carried by the chiefs as a preliminary to peace ... a glance at the
slight artistic hafting will convince any one that they are not
intended for cleaving timber.” This is all the information we have
concerning these axes. It appears that they have come to be recognised
as symbols of authority, but it is extremely doubtful whether they are
anywhere held as a common possession.

[21] _The Western Pacific and New Guinea_, 1886, p. 138.

[22] Chalmers and Gill, _Work and Adventure in New Guinea_,
1885, p. 334.

A still more wonderful change has affected certain adzes in the Hervey
Islands. (Fig. 46.) The stone blade is a carefully cut and polished
piece of basalt, and it has every appearance of being perfectly
serviceable; but the elaborately carved handles preclude the idea that
in their present state they could be used for practical purposes. In
form the handles may be quadrangular, gradually diminishing from the
base to the blade, or conical, or polygonal or cylindrical. When short
the handles are thick, even to the extent that they can scarcely be
grasped by the two hands; these forms too are often perforated by
quadrangular holes. One specimen in the Archæological and Ethnological
Museum at Cambridge is six feet three inches in length.

[Illustration: FIG. 46.—Mangaian symbolic adze in the Copenhagen
Museum; from Dr. C. March.]

Later on (p. 83) I shall describe the ornamentation on these adzes; at
present we are merely concerned with the fact that for some reason or
another they have become functionless through increase in the size of
the handle, and by reason of the weakness caused by deep carving. We
have now to trace the meaning of this vagary.

Dr. W. Wyatt Gill, who resided for twenty-two years in the Hervey
Islands, and who has been a very careful observer and recorder of
Polynesian customs and beliefs, informs us that “The adzes of the
Hervey Islanders are frequently hafted with carved ‘pua’ wood. The
carving, which is often admirable, was formerly executed with sharks’
teeth, and was primarily intended for the adorning of their gods.
The fine-pointed pattern is known as ‘the sharks’ teeth pattern’
(‘nio mango’). Other figures are each supposed, by a stretch of the
imagination, to represent a man squatting down (‘tikitiki tangata’).
Some patterns are of recent introduction, and being mere imitations of
European designs, are destitute of the significations which invariably
are attached to ancient Polynesian carving. The large square holes are
known as ‘eel-borings’ (‘ai tuna’); the lateral openings are naturally
enough called ‘clefts’ (‘kavava’). To carve was the employment of
sacred men.” Dr. Hjalmar Stolpe, of Stockholm, who has made a special
study[23] of the ornamental art of these people, found in the museum
in Chambéry an adze of this kind; according to the account on the
label the stone had belonged to a chief, and it was after the owner’s
death shafted in this manner that it might be preserved by his family
as a remembrance. Dr. Stolpe continues, “The internal probability
of the story confirms the truth of the account. Ancestor worship is
a characteristic feature of Polynesian religion. The souls of the
departed become the guardian spirits of the survivors. Their worship
demanded a visible form, under which offerings could be enjoyed by
them, and this was found sometimes in the skull itself of the deceased,
which was preserved in the house, sometimes in some article of his
property. In the latter case scarcely anything could be more suitable
than the stone adze, which was the deceased’s most important implement,
and which it required so much toil to make. On the Hervey Islands the
transition was easier, as there the stone adze itself is considered as
a god. Even the fine plait of coco-nut fibre with which the adze is
fastened to the shaft was a god, and the method of binding it had, in
Mangaia, been taught by the gods. Both during the operation of plaiting
and during the decoration of the adze-shaft songs were sung in a low
voice to the gods, that they might further the work. The ‘pua’ wood
(_Fagræa Berteriana_) of which the carved adze-shafts are made may also
have a religious significance, for Gill speaks of ‘its long branches
being regarded as the road by which the spirits of the dead descended
to Hades.’”

[23] H. Stolpe, “Utvecklingsföreteelser i Naturfolkens
Ornamentik” (_Ymer_ 1890), translated by Mrs. H. C. March,
“Evolution in the Ornamental Art of Savage Peoples,” _Trans.
Rochdale Lit. and Sci. Soc._, 1891.

The following conclusions of Dr. Stolpe’s appear to be warranted:—“From
these researches it appears to me to follow that the peculiarly shafted
stone adzes of the Hervey Islands have a religious signification, that
they are especially connected with ancestor worship, and that they were
probably the very symbols under which this worship was performed.”

[Illustration: FIG. 47.—An erect drum (_Kaara_), surmounted by the head
of a god from Java, in the Copenhagen Museum; from Dr. C. March.]

Dr. H. Colley March[24] has gone a step further, and tries to account
for the very remarkable form of the handle of the sacred adze. He says,
“It is remarkable that the typical Mangaian axe [adze] was exclusively
associated with ‘Tane, the royal-visaged.’ This god was widely
venerated over the Pacific; in Mangaia he was especially the drum-god
and the axe-god; he presided over the erotic dance as well as over the
war dance ... it is evident that the drum was not only associated with
a Tane cult in the erotic dance, but was regarded as Tane’s embodiment;
when the drum was beaten, it was Tane that was struck, and from the
fissure in the drum it was Tane’s voice that issued.” Dr. March
quotes a number of extracts from early voyagers, etc., descriptive
of various Polynesian drums, and he comes to the conclusion that the
upright drums, which were hollowed out of a single piece of wood,
were originally derived from bamboo instruments. He figures a drum
(Fig. 47) said to have come from Java, which, with the exception of
the terminal head, corresponds closely with the drum called _naffa_
which Captain Cook describes at Tonga. He concludes that after the drum
“had passed from bamboo to wood, the horizontal instrument assumed
the erect form, more appropriate to the god, and was then surmounted,
as in the so-called Javan example, by Tane’s head, which subsequently
gave place to Tane’s adze. As the cult differentiated, the symbolism
differentiated too.” Without going into further detail, in the short
thick form of the Mangaian adze, such as Fig. 46, the upper portion
of the handle is usually cylindrical. The lower portion is usually
quadrangular, or may be polygonal, and looks as if it might be a
pedestal for the former. According to Dr. March’s interpretation, the
stone implement represents the head of Tane; the upper cylindrical part
of the handle is his neck. The lower part of the handle is an artistic
analogue of the sacred drum; “the useless transverse closings represent
the original bamboo joints, as well as the solid ends of the wooden
drum. In spite of the fact that their presence increased the difficulty
of hollowing out the shaft, they were reproduced in obedience to a
well-recognised law. The square and oblong rectangular openings have an
analogous explanation. They indicate the original aperture, whether the
slit in the bamboo, or the single or double chink in the wooden drum
which was excavated through the drum in order to secure its resonance.
The great increase in the number of apertures, helped by rectangular
designs on horizontal instruments, took place as an evolution of
ornament that largely consists in a multiplication of functionless
details.”

[24] “Polynesian Ornament a Mythography; or a Symbolism of
Origin and Descent,” _Journ. Anth. Inst._, xxii., 1893, p. 307.

It is possible that the adzes from the Hervey Islands, with long,
unperforated carved handles, may have a different history from the form
illustrated in Fig. 46; they may merely be decorated but useless adze
handles. In any case, the above-quoted conclusions of Dr. Stolpe may be
accepted.

In the three examples of the metamorphosis of a practical object into
an unpractical one just recorded, we have an illustration of the
effects of three dominant human forces on these several implements,
art, display or wealth, and religion. The result is practically the
same in all cases, but the motive leading to it is different. Analogous
modifications are everywhere to be met with.

2. _Transference of Fastenings._

One of the earliest handicrafts was to fasten two things together.
To quote from Dr. H. Colley March,[25] “As soon as man began to make
things, to fasten a handle to a stone implement, to construct a wattled
roof, to weave a mat, skeuomorphs became an inseparable part of his
brain, and ultimately occasioned a mental craving or expectancy.”

[25] H. Colley March, “The Meaning of Ornament, or its
Archæology and its Psychology,” _Trans. Lanc. and Cheshire Ant.
Soc._, 1889.

In order to securely fasten two objects together, such as splicing wood
or fastening a handle to a stone implement, a lashing is necessary,
and the nature of the latter varies more or less according to the
conditions under which the artificers live. Where mammals are abundant,
their sinews afford a readily procured and very strong, fine lashing,
but it occurs only in short lengths. The hide of a newly-killed animal
is pliant, strong, and can be so cut as to produce long thongs. Owing
to the rarity of mammals in New Guinea, and their absence from the
Great Ocean, the Papuans, Melanesians, and Polynesians make no use of
skins or thongs; sinews may be employed, but the great bulk of all
fastening is accomplished by the employment of vegetable fibres. The
inner bark of various trees supplies bast and tapa, several vegetables
have long fibres which are utilised, but the most widespread and
important of all lashings in Oceania is the twisted or plaited string
made from the fibres of the husk coco-nut. The latter is known as
sinnet, and there are many degrees of excellence in its manufacture;
for rough work it is coarsely plaited, but nothing can exceed the
delicacy and beauty of the finest sinnet work, such, for example, as
occurs on the symbolic adzes of the Hervey Islands, where it was even
regarded as a god.

Most of the stone implements of primitive man were fastened in various
ways into handles, and an inspection of almost any ethnological
collection will demonstrate the diverse methods of lashing employed by
even the most backward peoples. For example, we have in Plate I., Fig.
1, an illustration of the fastening of the stone axe of Montezuma II.,
now in the Ambras Museum at Vienna,[26] but analogous figures will be
found in numerous books of travel, or in ethnographical journals and
treatises.

[26] Copied from J. Evans, _Bronze Implements_, p. 148.

The even serving of the lashing gives rise to geometrical figures.
One might in some cases describe them as patterns, whose symmetrical
disposition gives a pleasing effect.

In process of time the stone spear points of our ancestors were
replaced by bronze, and during the evolution of the palstave, or
socketed bronze celt (Plate I., Figs. 4, 10, 11), from the flat
bronze celt, the method of fastening also changed. But by this time
the old style of binding had become so associated in men’s mind with
the implement, that it was engraved on the socket of the bronze head
as a pattern. Hence most of the ornamentation of bronze implements.
(Plate I., Figs. 2-4.) On socketed bronze celts one frequently
finds (Plate I., Figs. 10, 11) two, three, or more ridges running
from the base to some distance towards the end; three is the most
common number of these ridges. They may fade away at their ends, or
terminate in slight knobs or annular prominences. The meaning of these
characteristic markings is at present obscure, but they appear to be
skeuomorphs of lashing.

[Illustration: FIG. 48.—Rubbing of part of the decoration of a Tongan
club in the Norwich Museum; one-third natural size.]

What are known as “beads” have frequently the same origin; that is,
they are reminiscences of fastenings. This is especially evident when
the bead is decorated with a twisted design, as occurs in the zonal
decoration of a bronze vessel from a Swiss lake-dwelling. (Plate I.,
Fig. 5.) There is no reason to believe that lashing was actually
employed on older forms of Assyrian combs, or prehistoric bone needles
or bronze knives, nevertheless the patterns shown in Plate I., Figs.
6, 8, and 9, have doubtless been derived from ligatures; more from the
fact that such patterns were familiar, and a feeling for a need of
decoration, than for any special appropriateness.

[Illustration: FIG. 49.—Rubbing of part of the decoration of a Tongan
club in the Norwich Museum; one-half natural size.]

One frequently finds designs in the ornamentation of objects from
Oceania which are evidently based upon sinnet lashings. To take a
few out of many examples now before me, in Fig. 48 we have a reduced
rubbing of a carved cylindrical club, said to come from the Friendly
Islands (Tonga); the same kind of club also occurs in Fiji. The
decoration of this club irresistibly suggests bands of plaited sinnet
irregularly bound round the club.

In these two groups of islands sinnet is often worked into a design
that is also copied on the upper part of a carved wooden club.
(Fig. 49.) The same kind of lashing is seen in Plate I., Fig. 1.
Occasionally, instead of being angular, this pattern is carved in
curved lines, and so gives rise to an imbricate pattern, which might be
mistaken for a scale pattern.

[Illustration: FIG. 50.—Rubbing of part of the decoration of a Tongan
club in the Norwich Museum; one-half natural size.]

Other sinnet patterns perhaps occur in the lower part of the decoration
of a Tongan club. (Fig. 50.) The design on the upper left-hand corner
is evidently copied from matting, and it frequently occurs on these
clubs. This figure also illustrates the Tongan peculiarity of inserting
little figures into designs, in this case a man and probably a
frigate-bird.

I do not wish to suggest that all zigzags included within parallel
lines, as in Fig. 48, or such simple designs as those of Fig. 50, are
everywhere sinnet derivatives, or otherwise skeuomorphic; some, at
least, in the Pacific certainly are. We have seen that birds’ head
designs may degenerate into zigzags (Figs. 30, 36), and we shall see
that frogs’ legs (Fig. 122, B), snakes (Fig. 103, G, H, K), alligators
(Fig. 97, E, F), and even the human form (Fig. 125, A) may pass into
zigzags. There are many other possible origins of the zigzag, but in
many cases it is probably only a purely decorative motive of no further
significance. The simple zigzag can be traced in ancient Egyptian art
as far back as 4000 B.C., and, according to Professor Flinders Petrie,
it continued popular with a few modifications for about 2000 years,
when spots were associated with it, but these were adopted from foreign
art. About the eighteenth dynasty the use of the zigzag was discarded
in favour of the wavy line and various scroll designs. In all cases it
is necessary to study each pattern locally.

3. _Skeuomorphs of Textiles._

In Europe a very early form of fabric was wattle-work, formed by
the interlacing of flexible boughs and wands. The most ancient huts
were doubtless made of wattle-work daubed over with clay. Only very
exceptionally are traces of these structures found, as, for example
at Ebersberg, where Dr. Keller[27] found, among the _débris_ of a
lake-village which had been destroyed by fire, fragments of the clay
daubing, “smooth on one side, and marked on the other, with deep
depressions of the basket-work.” The pattern thus impressed on the
clay is one of repeated straight lines crossed by a contrasted series
of curved ones. (Plate II., Fig. 1.) Thus the fire which consumed the
house baked its clayey coating, and in this way preserved for us a
record of what it destroyed.

[27] F. Keller, _The Lake Dwellings of Switzerland and other
parts of Europe_. Second edition, 1878, p. 565.

I do not know whether the wattle-work has been perpetuated on
any object as a skeuomorph, but it is possible that the shape of
similarly constructed huts has been continued, as Mr. Charles de Kay
suggests,[28] into the round towers of Ireland. He says, “Seeing how
the Irish kept heathen ideas in other things, we can perceive how
the round wicker house of the Kelt, such as we see it carved on the
column of Antoninus at Rome, developed into the wood and wicker outlook
tower and beacon, and in skilful hands became the Irish round tower.
Christian in usage, they are pagan in design.”

[28] “Pagan Ireland,” _The Century Magazine_, xxxvii., 1889,
p. 368.

The predatory expeditions of the Scandinavians created a demand for
watch-towers and places of temporary refuge; the pattern for these
was supplied by the traditional erections of the Gauls, but their
translation into “towers more durable, useful, simple yet stately, than
anything Ireland had seen before or has seen since,” was due to the
skill and experience of “Byzantine craftsmen driven from the East by
the bigotry of the image-breaking emperors.”

Mr. de Kay also calls attention to the encircling stone bands, or
“string-courses,” as in the round tower at Ardmore, “which repeat,
without any useful object in stone, the horizontal bands that
strengthened the tall wicker house of the Gauls. Such apparently
trivial points weigh heavily in favour of the indigenous character of
the round tower of Ireland.”

The interlacing of flexible bands, such as strips of bast, entire
leaves as of grass, or shreds of large leaves, is known to almost every
people, and is employed in making mats. When the elements employed are
all of one size, and when the plaiting is straight, the intersections
form regular equilateral rectangles or squares. (Plate II., Fig. 3, and
compare the transferred design in Fig. 50.) If the material consists of
two colours simple patterns are readily produced, but of necessity the
patterns must consist of straight, slanting, or zigzag lines; curves
are an impossibility. The same holds good for nearly all forms of
matting and basketry which is made of strips of one material, but the
constructional surface marking may be rectangles of various shapes and
sizes instead of simple squares. (Plate II., Fig. 4.) When one series
of the components is twisted, as in Plate II., Fig. 5, there is a kind
of flow effect in the intersections.

The making of baskets by laying down the material in a spiral gives
rise to different effects, especially when coloured strips are
interwoven for decorative purposes—as, for example, in some African
baskets and the baskets made by the natives of South Australia, in the
neighbourhood of Adelaide. Dr. Keller found in the Lake of Robenhausen
a kind of basketry formed by bast, the fibre of the lime-tree,
intertwisted among a series of willow rods, the strips “running
concentrically in such a way that both together form a structure like
that called ‘herring-bone.’”[29] (Plate II., Fig. 2.) It is possible
that the pattern in the middle band of Fig. 49, and some of those in
Fig. 50, may have been suggested by basketry or plaited fans.

[29] F. Keller, _The Lake Dwellings_, etc, p. 565.

An early type of basket is seen in the Roman corbula (Plate II., Fig.
6), in which the osier rods are placed rectangularly; another, in
an ivory plaque from Boulak (Plate II., Fig. 7), in which there is
a chevron arrangement. The latter is the more common skeuomorph on
European prehistoric pottery, but the rectangular type often occurs,
and it may be seen on a Danish food-vessel of the Stone Age. (Plate
II., Fig. 8.)

The bottom of a basket, with a cruciform arrangement of the bands, due
to the method of weaving, was discovered by Dr. Keller in the Terramara
marl-pits of Northern Italy (Plate II., Fig. 9); and a piece of pottery
from the same deposit is ornamented with a corresponding skeuomorph
(Plate II., Fig. 10).

Dr. Colley March has further developed this subject, and, while I
cannot commit myself to several of his conclusions, I do not hesitate
to give an exposition of his ingenious views, as they are very
suggestive, and even if they are not finally accepted, they will lead
to a further examination of the problems:—

“The perpetual concentration of attention, the strain of hand and
eye and brain upon the forms of wattle-work and basketry produced
an important decorative result. The mind acquired an expectancy of
a special mode of curved repetitions. This particular skeuomorph is
composed of a band that winds in and out among a row of rods or discs.”
(Plate III., Fig. A.)

The “discs” are naturally the cross sections of the vertical elements
of the wattle-work—that is the “rods.” “The device underwent a change
in opposite directions. The discs grew, or they vanished. In the latter
case the band left by itself is the meander, and may be called a
curvilinear zigzag. In the former case the discs often became the seat
of phyllomorphic invasion, and were transformed into leaves or flowers.

“Examples may be seen on the margin of a bronze shield from Cyprus
(Plate III., Fig. 2); on a vessel of terra-cotta from the third
sepulchre of Mycenæ (Plate III., Fig. 8); and on an enamelled Roman
vase found on Bartlow Hill (Plate III., Fig. 5); whilst a twin-form,
which presents both contrast and repetition, occurs on another bronze
shield from the Mediterranean (Plate III., Fig. 1) and is the basis
of the Assyrian ornament and its Greek variant called the guilloche.
(Plate III., Figs. 4, 3.)

“A different skeuomorph is derived from a different method of basketry,
in which a single fibre is turned round a row of osier-sticks, so as to
produce a wave repetition (Plate III., Fig. B), as may be seen on the
pottery of the ancient Pueblos (Plate III., Fig. 6). When these discs
disappear, the fibre by itself resembles the Vitruvian scroll, and may
be called a curvilinear fret. (Plate III., Fig. B.)

“Whenever the pattern has a stepped form, as on many of the Pueblo
vases (Plate III., Fig. 7), it indicates that the methods of textile
manufacture had already influenced the eye and mind of the race before
the invention or introduction of pottery.”

The scroll-patterns illustrated by Dr. March may at one time and place
have had the origin supposed by Dr. March, but it does not appear to
me to be probable that they would have arisen in this way both in
South Europe and in Mexico. I have shown (p. 51, Fig. 27) how a simple
guilloche has arisen from interlocking birds’ heads. The Vitruvian
scroll design occurs among the Tugeri head-hunters of New Guinea,
and it is most improbable that it owes its origin to basketry. It is
probable that the Pueblo pottery with curvilinear patterns, such as
Plate III., Fig. 6, is more recent than that with angular designs; but
I shall return to this later on. In fact, I would feel inclined to
state that Dr. March’s view is possible for the origin of the patterns
in question, once and in a restricted locality, but highly improbable
for wide application.

There is a great tendency for spirals to degenerate into concentric
circles; examples could be given from New Guinea, America, Europe,
and elsewhere. In fact, one usually finds the two figures associated
together, and the sequence is one of decadence, never the evolution of
spirals from circles. The intermediate stage has been aptly termed a
“bastard spiral” by Dr. Montelius, “that is to say, concentric circles
to which the recurved junction-lines give, to a casual glance, the
appearance of true spirals.”[30]

[30] O. Montelius, “Sur les Poignées des Epées et des Poignards
en Bronze,” _Congr. prehist. Stockholm_, 1874, ii. p. 891.

“The strangest skeuomorph of all,” writes Dr. March, “was that common
to the early inhabitants of Northern Europe. They were adepts in
basketry, and in wattle-work for walls and ramparts. Moreover, the
pliant bark of the birch was ever ready to the hand for a thousand
purposes of life. The Norwegian still makes hinges for gates and loops
for the oar out of the entwisted fibre. The old Norseman spoke of the
rudder withy, for the earliest rudder was an oar; and leather thongs
were also used to keep the oar against the thole-pin. The skeuomorph
consists of a withy wound upon itself. (Plate VII., Fig. 11.) This
device, wrongly called a rope-pattern, gained such an ascendency over
the northern mind that it was employed sometimes as a symbol (Plate
VII., Fig. 12), like the reefing knot on Roman altars. (Plate VII.,
Fig. 13.) It was used also by the ancient Hittites. (Plate IV., Fig. 1.)

“It is evident that the withy skeuomorph (Plate IV., Figs. 2, 3), the
Scandinavian worm-knot, established itself as a necessity of the mind
before those men who were dominated by it had discarded a covering of
skins for one of cloth; for its type is antagonistic to the regular
intersections and the stepped designs of textile fabrics, and no trace
of these appears on their early pottery.

“When weaving was at last introduced, so as to be practised by these
people, it was probably along with the introduction of metals. But for
a while the use of metal only increased the number of twisted things.
The words, wire, wicker, and withy are all from the root WI, _to
plait_, and the Teutonic WIRA means filigree, an ornament of twisted
filaments of metal; and as the simplest manner of terminating a wire is
to coil its end, the earliest filigree is preponderantly spiral. (Plate
IV., Figs. 5, 6, 7.) Thus was the way prepared,” concludes Dr. March,
“for the advent of the serpent zoomorph, so much affected by Teutons
and Scandinavians.”

In early times wooden bands were interwoven to form flat surfaces,
as, for example, in the floor of a lake-dwelling at Niederwyl,
in Switzerland (Plate IV., Fig. 8), but few traces of the art of
“fascining,” as Dr. March points out, remain to us from antiquity,
since wood-work rapidly perishes by decay, and is easily destroyed by
fire. This art produces a bold decorative effect which appears to have
been perpetuated in various ways. Amongst others may be mentioned the
interior decoration of an earthen vessel from Ueberlingen See (Plate
IV., Fig. 9), a crescent of red sandstone from Ebersberg (Plate IV.,
Fig. 10), and an incised stone from Hadrian’s Wall, in Northumberland.
(Plate IV., Fig. 11.)

So far we have only considered the type of ornamentation which occurs
on plaited or woven objects, and these are seen to be conditioned by
that particular technique. We have now to see what occurs when a new
material is substituted for the old.

There are many varieties of tapa in the Pacific, some of which are
coarse and others of extreme fineness and softness. The process of
making and decorating tapa has often been described; sometimes the
tapa is ribbed, having been beaten with more or less finely corrugated
wooden mallets, occasionally it is marked with squares which give it
an appearance of having been stamped by a simply plaited mat, but many
pieces are quite smooth. There is nothing in the texture or manufacture
of tapa to prevent its being ornamented with intricate and involved
patterns. As a general rule, all over the Pacific we find that tapa
patterns are largely geometrical—that is, they are formed of straight
and angled lines; bowed lines, which are grouped into leaf-like
designs, are not infrequent, but doubly curved lines and scroll-like
designs are extremely rare. The evidence clearly points to a time
anterior to the employment of tapa, and when mats and other textiles
were the only fabrics; the decoration of these was necessarily angular
in style. When tapa became general the older designs were transferred
to the new material, and quite irrespective of its capabilities.
Only gradually has it been found that the smooth surface of tapa
lends itself to a more elaborate decorative treatment. The essential
conservatism of the savage precludes rapid emancipation from long
existent thralls, especially as the æsthetic mind has, so to speak,
become set in angularities.

It is probable that the practice of beating tapa with wooden mallets
led to the discovery of printing in colours. The transitions are slight
between finding the natural graining of wood impressing itself on the
soft tapa, of so cutting the mallets as to produce a regularly grooved
surface, and of colouring the blocks, and lastly of making the great
printing blocks on which the pattern stands up in relief, which were
made in Fiji. Sometimes the lines in relief of printing blocks are made
by fastening the mid ribs of palm leaves on to a stout piece of tapa.

[Illustration: FIG. 51.—Sketches of tapa belts from Kerepunu, British
New Guinea; about three-quarters natural size.]

In certain islands it has been discovered that fern fronds covered
with pigment can be used for printing, and thus what is known in this
country as “nature-printing” has been independently arrived at.

What has happened in the Great Ocean apparently also took place in New
Guinea. In the south-eastern peninsula the men wear tapa belts which
are often painted. About the district of Kerepunu, in British New
Guinea, tapa belts are worn by the men which are painted in a peculiar
manner with grey and orange pigments. In Fig. 51 we have two typical
patterns. It is obvious that the interlaced design would be easily
arrived at in a plaited belt, but it is highly improbable that it is,
so to speak, indigenous to the tapa.

In all the other examples of painted tapa known to me from British New
Guinea, angular designs alone occur.

[Illustration: FIG. 52.—Designs derived from _uluri_ (women’s
covering); A, B, C, Bakaïri tribe, Central Brazil; D, Auetö tribe,
Central Brazil. After Von den Steinen; greatly reduced.]

Professor von den Steinen discovered in Central Brazil some patterns,
which most people would designate as “geometrical,” painted on pieces
of bark which formed a frieze round a chief’s house. These patterns
(Fig. 52) are derived from serial repetitions of the minute triangular
garment which constitutes the sole clothing of the women. This is a
good example of the necessity for local information concerning the
significance of designs. I would refer the reader to later pages for
further examples of analogous patterns from the same district.

4. _Skeuomorphic Pottery._

Perhaps no manufacture is of such importance to anthropologists
as pottery. In Europe pottery first appeared in what is termed by
archæologists the Neolithic Age, or that period of human history when
man had learnt to neatly chip and to polish his stone implements, but
had not as yet discovered metal. Amongst living people the Australians
and the Polynesians are the only great groups among whom pottery is
unknown.[31] There can be little doubt that the ceramic art has been
independently discovered in various parts of the world, and Mr. Cushing
believes that this has been the case even in America.

[31] In Oceania pottery is unknown save in the West, and there
only sporadically. It is absent in Polynesia except in the
Tonga Islands, where it is doubtless due to Fiji influence.
Its distribution in Melanesia is erratic; for example, it
occurs in the Fiji Islands, New Caledonia, and the Loyalty
Islands. Rude, unglazed dishes are made in Espiritu Santo
(R. H. Codrington, _The Melanesians_, 1891, p. 315), but not
Aurora, in Pentecost and Lepers’ Island in the New Hebrides,
nor in Banks’ Islands, Torres Islands, Santa Cruz Group, and
most of the Solomon Islands. While wanting in the Bismarck
Archipelago, it occurs in New Guinea. But even where pottery
is made it is very local and confined to certain tribes. For
example, in British New Guinea (A. C. Haddon, _The Decorative
Art of British New Guinea_, 1894, pp. 149, 222-224) it is made
only in the south-east peninsula and in some of the adjacent
islands. In scattered villages, or even in parts of villages,
from Yule Island to Maopa in Aroma, pottery is made from clay
in the lump; but in the Engineer Group, and especially in
Wari (or Teste Island), the clay is laid down in a spiral,
and no stone and beater are used, but it is smoothed by a
Tellina shell. This method is described and figured by Dr.
Finsch (O. Finsch, _Samoafahrten_, 1888, p. 280; _Ethnological
Atlas_, 1888, Plate IV.). The upper border of these pots,
he says, “exhibits various simple band patterns, which are
scratched with fork-like bamboo instruments, and which serve
not as ornamentation but as trade-marks. Thus here also (as at
Bilibili) each woman has her own mark, with which she signs her
fabrication.” I have elsewhere (cf. _Decorative Art of British
New Guinea_, p. 223) printed an extract from the unpublished
journal of Dr. H. O. Forbes, in which he gives an account of
the method of making pottery at Wari. Fig. 23 is a copy of
Dr. Forbes’ sketches of these slightly decorated vessels. In
German New Guinea (Kaiser Wilhelm’s Land) pottery is made
from the lump, as among the Motu of British New Guinea, at
Sechstroh River (Humboldt Bay), Goose Bay (Dallmann Harbour),
the island of Bilia (Eickstedt Island in Prince Henry Harbour),
and more especially at the island of Bilibili in Astrolabe
Bay. Dr. Finsch claims that this pottery is of better quality
and better decorated than that of the south-east coast. Some
of the vessels are ornamented with small bosses. But the
insignificant patterns, frequently made with the finger-nail,
are probably intended, as in Port Moresby, for trade-marks,
and not merely for ornament. From their extremely local and
scattered distribution it is evident that the pottery makers
of New Guinea are not autocthones, but belong to the waves
of Melanesian immigration that have washed the coast and
neighbouring islands.

In speaking of New Caledonia Baron L. de Vaux (L. de Vaux, “Les
Canaques de la Nouvelle-Calédonie,” _Rev. d’Ethnog._, ii.,
1883, p. 340) says, “formerly the women of Pouébo, Oubatche,
and Pam had the monopoly; now the art tends more and more to
disappear as the natives find it more practical to buy trade
vessels. They succeeded in making pots to the height of two
feet, and very often decorated externally with lizards and
frogs in relief. The base being ready, they superimpose rings
of well-prepared clay the one above the other, holding them and
joining them from the interior with the left hand, whilst they
smooth their work externally by means of the right hand and of
a little beater of smooth, hard wood.”

Mr. Atkinson (J. J. Atkinson, “Notes on Pointed Forms of
Pottery among Primitive Peoples,” _Journ. Anth. Inst._, xxiii.,
1893, p. 90) also describes the New Caledonian method of making
pottery, and draws attention to the fact that the occasional
traces of faint horizontal marks occasioned by the technique
“imitate the marks left by pottery made on the system of
plastering wickerwork employed by some people,” and therefrom
he suggests a necessary warning not to take the latter method
as having been of universal occurrence.

Earthen vessels are comparatively easy to make, and though they
are brittle, their fragments, when properly baked, are almost
indestructible. The history of man is unconsciously written largely
on shards, and the elucidation of these unwritten records is as
interesting and important as the deciphering of the cuneiform
inscriptions on the clay tablets of Assyria. The Book of Pots has
yet to be written, but materials for its compilation lie scattered
throughout the great literature of archæology, anthropology, and
ceramics, and in the specimens in a multitude of museums and
collections. The scientific treatment of the subject has been
sketched out mainly by W. H. Holmes and F. H. Cushing, and I have not
hesitated to borrow largely from the publications of these American
anthropologists.

There are three principal methods of making clay vessels—1, by coiling;
2, by modelling; or 3, by casting.

In the first method longer or shorter rope-like pieces of clay are
formed. These are laid down in a spiral, and the vessel is built up by
a continuation of the same process.

In modelling, or moulding, a lump of clay is taken, and this is first
worked with the hands, and then the clay is gradually beaten into the
desired shape and thickness by means of a wooden mallet, which hits
against a stone or other object that is held inside the incipient
vessel.

The third method, by casting, is very rarely employed except by quite
civilised peoples. It was a comparatively late discovery that clay
vessels could be cast within hollow moulds if the paste was made thin
enough.

The coiling and moulding processes are in some places employed side by
side, and a vessel may be commenced in the latter method and finished
by coiling. (Fig. 55.) This is done by the Nicobarese,[32] Pueblo
Indians, and other peoples.

[32] E. H. Man, “Nicobar Pottery,” _Journ. Anth. Inst._,
xxiii., 1893, p. 21.

The subject of the forms and decoration of pottery is so important for
our study that it will be advisable to quote at considerable length
some of the American investigations which bear upon it. Nowhere than
in that continent are conditions more favourable to a scientific study
of the evolution of ceramics, and our American colleagues happily are
fully alive to this fact. Their researches afford valuable sidelights
upon the probable history of European prehistoric ceramics.

Mr. J. D. Hunter,[33] writing of the Mississippi tribes in 1823, says
that they spread the clay “over blocks of wood, which have been formed
into shapes to suit their convenience or fancy. When sufficiently dried
they are removed from the moulds, placed in proper situations, and
burned to a hardness suitable to their intended uses. Another method
practised by them is to coat the inner surface of baskets, made of
rushes or willows, with clay, to any required thickness, and when dry,
to burn them as above described.”

[33] J. D. Hunter, _Manners and Customs of several Indian
Tribes located west of the Mississippi_. Philadelphia, 1823,
p. 296.

Messrs. Squier and Davis,[34] referring to the vessels of the Gulf
Indians, say:—“In the construction of those of large size, it was
customary to model them in baskets of willow or splints, which at the
proper period were burned off, leaving the vessel perfect in form, and
retaining the somewhat ornamental markings of their moulds. Some of
those found on the Ohio seem to have been modelled in bags or nettings
of coarse thread or twisted bark. These practices are still retained by
some of the remote western tribes.”

[34] Squier and Davis, _Ancient Monuments of the Mississippi
Valley_, 1848, p. 187.

Mr. W. H. Holmes[35] points out that “clay has no inherent qualities of
a nature to impose a given form or class of forms upon its products,
as have wood, bark, bone, or stone. It is so mobile as to be quite
free to take form from surroundings.... In early stages of culture the
processes of art are closely akin to those of nature, the human agent
hardly ranking as more than a part of the environment. The primitive
artist does not proceed by methods identical with our own. He does not
deliberately and freely examine all departments of nature or art, and
select for models those things most convenient or most agreeable to
fancy; neither does he experiment with the view of inventing new forms.
What he attempts depends almost absolutely upon what happens to be
suggested by preceding forms.

[35] W. H. Holmes, “Origin and Development of Form and Ornament
in Ceramic Art,” _Fourth Annual Report of the Bureau of
Ethnology_, 1882-83. Washington, 1886.

“The range of models in the ceramic art is at first very limited, and
includes only those utensils devoted to the particular use to which the
clay vessels are to be applied; later, closely associated objects and
utensils are copied. In the first stages of art, when a savage makes
a weapon, he modifies or copies a weapon; when he makes a vessel he
modifies or copies a vessel” (pp. 445, 446).

The discovery of the art of making pottery was probably in all cases
adventitious, the clay being first used for some other purpose.
“The use of clay as a cement in repairing utensils, in protecting
combustible vessels from injury by fire, or in building up the walls
of shallow vessels, may also have led to the formation of discs or
cups, afterwards independently constructed. In any case the objects or
utensils with which the clay was associated in its earliest use would
impress their forms upon it. Thus, if clay were used in deepening
or mending vessels of stone by a given people, it would, when used
independently by that people, tend to assume shapes suggested by stone
vessels. The same may be said of its use in connection with wood and
wicker, or with vessels of other materials. Forms of vessels so derived
may be said to have an adventitious origin, yet they are essentially
copies, although not so by design” (p. 445). In other words, such
pottery is primitively skeuomorphic. Ceramic biomorphs will be dealt
with in a later chapter.

Mr. Holmes further points out that the shapes first assumed by vessels
in clay depend upon the shape of the vessels employed at the time of
the introduction of the art, and these depend, to a great extent, upon
the kind and grade of culture of the people acquiring the art, and upon
the resources of the country in which they live.

A few examples will suffice. Mr. Holmes (_loc. cit._, pp. 383, 448)
figures an oblong wooden vessel with a projecting rim, which is narrow
at the sides but broad at the ends; it is in fact a sort of winged
trough; this is sometimes copied in clay. It is evident that the
elongated terminal shelf-like projections are more suited to a wooden
than to an earthen vessel.

In Fig. 53 we have an Iroquois bark-vessel. Mr. Cushing[36] informs us
that in order to produce this form of utensil from a single piece of
bark, it is necessary to cut pieces out of the margin and fold it.
Each fold, when stitched together in the shaping of the vessel, forms
a corner at the rim. These corners, and the borders which they form,
are decorated with short lines and combinations of lines, composed of
coarse embroideries with dyed porcupine quills. Clay vessels (Fig. 54),
which strikingly resemble the shape and decoration of these birch or
linden bark vessels, are of common occurrence in the lake regions of
the United States. There can be but little doubt that the clay vessels
are directly derived from the bark vessels.

[36] F. H. Cushing, “A Study of Pueblo Pottery as illustrative
of Zuñi Culture Growth,” _Fourth Annual Report of the Bureau of
Ethnology_, 1882-83. Washington, 1886.

[Illustration: FIG. 53.—Iroquois bark vessel; after Cushing.]

[Illustration: FIG. 54.—Rectangular, or Iroquois, type of earthen
vessel; after Cushing.]

Mr. Cushing’s long and intimate knowledge of the Zuñi Indians has
enabled him to speak with authority on matters which might be merely
happy suggestions by other anthropologists. Any one can guess at
origins and meanings, but there are few who know at first-hand, and who
therefore can act as interpreters to the student at home. The following
account of Zuñi pottery is taken from Mr. Cushing’s paper, entitled “A
Study of Pueblo Pottery as illustrative of Zuñi Culture Growth.”

So far as language indicates, the earliest Zuñi water vessels were
tubes of wood or sections of cane. The latter must speedily have given
way to the use of gourds. While the gourd was large and convenient in
form, it was difficult of transportation, owing to its fragility. To
overcome this it was encased in a coarse sort of wicker-work. Of this
there is evidence among the Zuñis, in the shape of a series of rudely
encased gourd vessels into which the sacred water is said to have been
transferred from the tubes.

This crude beginning of the wicker-art in connection with water vessels
points towards the development of the wonderful water-tight baskets of
the south-west, explaining, too, the resemblance of many of its typical
forms to the shapes of gourd vessels. The name for these vessels also
supports this view.

Mr. Cushing suggests that water-tight osiery, once known, however
difficult of manufacture, would displace the general use of gourd
vessels. While the growth of the gourd was restricted to limited areas,
the materials for basketry were anywhere at hand. Basket vessels were
far stronger and more durable than gourds.

“We may conclude, then,” continues Mr. Cushing, “that so long as
the Pueblo ancestry were semi-nomadic, basketry supplied the place
of pottery, as it still does for the less advanced tribes of the
south-west, except in cookery.” Thus the _Ha va su paí_, or Coçoninos
of Cataract Cañon, Arizona, in 1881, “had not yet forgotten how to boil
food in water-tight basketry, by means of hot stones, and continued
to roast seeds, crickets, and bits of meat in wicker-trays, coated
inside with gritty clay. A round basket-tray, either loosely or closely
woven, is evenly coated inside with clay, into which has been kneaded
a very large proportion of sand, to prevent contraction and consequent
cracking from drying. This lining of clay is pressed, while still
soft, into the basket as closely as possible with the hands, and then
allowed to dry. The tray thus made is ready for use. The seeds or
other substances to be parched are placed inside of it, together with
a quantity of glowing wood coals;” these are made to rapidly revolve.
“That this clay lining should grow hard from continual heating, and in
some instances separate from its matrix of osiers, is apparent. The
clay form thus detached would itself be a perfect roasting vessel” (pp.
484, 485). The modern Zuñi name for a parching pan indicates that the
shallow vessel of twigs coated with clay for roasting had given birth
to the parching pan of earthenware.

In the ancient Zuñi country are found vessels of the same form as the
basket-pot or boiling basket, still surviving among the Havasupaí.
These baskets are good examples of the spirally-coiled type of basket.

“Seizing the suggestion afforded by the rude tray-moulded
parching-bowls, particularly after it was discovered that if well
burned they resisted the effects of water as well as of heat, the
ancient potter would naturally attempt in time to reproduce the
boiling-basket in clay. She would find that to accomplish this she
could not use as a mould the inside of the boiling-basket, as she had
the inside of the tray, because its neck was smaller than its body. Nor
could she form the vase by plastering the clay outside of the vessel,
not only for the same reason, but also because the clay in drying
would contract so much that it would crack or scale off. Naturally,
then, she pursued the process she was accustomed to in the manufacture
of the basket-bottle. That is, she formed a thin rope of soft clay,
which, like the wisp of the basket, she coiled around and around a
centre to form the bottom, then spirally upon itself, now widening the
diameter of each coil more and more, then contracting as she progressed
upward until the desired height and form were attained. As the clay
was adhesive, each coil was attached to the one already formed by
pinching or pressing together the connecting edges at short intervals
as the widening went on. This produced corrugations or indentations
marvellously resembling the stitches of basket-work. Hence accidentally
the vessels thus built up appeared so similar to the basket which had
served for its model that evidently it did not seem complete until
this feature had been heightened by art. At any rate, the majority
of specimens belonging to this type of pottery, especially those of
the older periods during which it was predominant, are distinguished
by an indented or incised decoration exactly reproducing the zigzags,
serrations, chevrons, terraces, and other characteristic devices of
water-tight basketry. Evidently, with a like intention, two little
cone-like projections were attached to the neck near the rim of the
vessel, which may hence be regarded as survivals of the loops whereby
the ends of the strap-handle were attached to the boiling-basket.
Although varied in later times to form scrolls, rosettes, and other
ornate figures, they continued ever after quite faithful features of
the spiral type of pot, and may even sometimes be seen on the cooking
vessels of modern Zuñi.” Corroborative evidence of the connection
between the two kinds of receptacles is found in their names, the
translation being “coiled cooking-basket” and “coiled earthenware
cooking-basket” (pp. 489-491).

Other earthenware vessels had a somewhat different evolutionary
history, but they had for their starting-point the food-trencher of
coiled wicker-work. When by a perfectly natural sequence of events
ornamentation by painting came to be applied to the surface of the
bowls a smooth surface was found preferable to a corrugated one, not
only because it took paint more readily, but because it formed a far
handsomer utensil for household use than if simply decorated by the
older methods.

Later the building up of large vessels was no longer accomplished by
the spiral method exclusively. “A lump of clay, hollowed out, was
shaped how rudely so ever on the bottom of the basket or in the hand,
then placed inside of a hemispherical basket-bowl, and stroked until
pressed outward to conform with the shape, and to project a little
above the edges of its temporary mould, whence it was built up spirally
(Fig. 55) until the desired form had been attained, after which it was
smoothed by scraping.”

[Illustration: FIG. 55.—Clay nucleus in base mould, with beginning
of spiral building; a stage in the formation of a Zuñi vessel; after
Cushing.]

With regard to the employment of textile supports by the ancient
peoples of North America for the clay vessels during the process of
manufacture, Mr. Holmes[37] writes:—“Nets or sacks of pliable materials
have been almost exclusively employed. These have been applied to the
surface of the vessel, sometimes covering the exterior entirely, and at
others only the body or a part of the body. The nets or other fabrics
used have generally been removed before the vessel was burned or even
dried.... I have observed in many cases that handles and ornaments
have been added, and that impressed and incised designs have been made
in the soft clay after the removal of the woven fabric. There would
be no need of the support of a net after the vessel had been fully
finished and slightly hardened. Furthermore, I have no doubt that
these _textilia_ were employed as much for the purpose of enhancing
the appearance of the vessel as for supporting it during the process
of construction. In support of the idea that ornament was a leading
consideration in the employment of these coarse fabrics, we have the
well-known fact that simple cord-markings, arranged to form patterns,
have been employed by many peoples for embellishment alone. This was a
common practice of the ancient inhabitants of Great Britain”[38] (p.
398).

[37] W. H. Holmes, “Prehistoric Textile Fabrics of the United
States derived from Impressions on Pottery,” _Third Ann. Rep.
Bureau Ethnol_. Washington, 1884.

[38] A very interesting collateral line of study has sprung
from Mr. Holmes’ investigations of the impressions on pottery.
By the simple expedient of taking impressions in clay from
ancient pottery, and so throwing into high relief the rather
obscure intaglio impressions in the originals, he has been
able to restore a considerable number of diverse fabrics which
were used for the purposes just stated. “The perfect manner in
which the fabric in all its details of plaiting and weaving can
be brought out is a matter of astonishment; the cloth itself
could hardly make all the particulars of its construction
more manifest.” The perishable material so impressed the clay
that when it had long since crumbled into dust the latter was
enabled to transmit the details of the structure of a fabric
the very existence of which would otherwise never have been
known.

The value of the bearing of such observations as the foregoing on the
study of the prehistoric pottery of Europe is obvious. In

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