CHAPTER XIIIHISTORICAL ART
It is exceedingly difficult to decide at what precise stage in the evolution of mankind we can first distinguish signs of a true commemorative art. It seems pretty evident that the lowest of the known tribes—such as the Veddas, the Bubis, the Kubus—live exclusively in and for the present, without any memories or traditions as to their past. When we turn our attention, however, to tribes in the somewhat higher condition of culture we find that the statements of travellers are not at one with regard to this. The Fuegians are said by M. Hyades to lack any kind of history and tradition.[210]But, on the other hand, one of their pantomimical dances (or rather dramas) has been explained by M. Martial, another member of the Cape Horn expedition, as commemorating the revolt of the men against the women, “who formerly had the authority and possessed the secrets of sorcery.”[211]The inconsistency between these two assertions can, however, be explained by the fact that Hyades evidently had in view only the oral tradition. The interpretation of M. Martial again seems to be merely hypothetical. Mr. Bridges, who is more competent thanany one else to speak about this tribe, does not allude to any commemorative element in the “Kina,” although even he thinks that these plays, in which the parts were formerly acted by women, are old and traditional in their form.[212]
A similar inconsistency in the use of terms has no doubt been the cause of the conflicting reports on the traditional poetry of the Greenlanders. In his account of their “Wissenschaften” Cranz says that they have no heroic songs describing the doings of their ancestors. But the very wording of this negation—“They know nothing about them except that they were brave hunters, and slew the old Norsemen”—shows that it can by no means be adduced to prove complete default of oral tradition.[213]And in another passage Cranz expressly says that the Eskimos, at their sunfeasts, praise the feats of their ancestors.[214]
It is more difficult to bring into accord the various statements concerning the Melanesians. Mr. Codrington sees a distinguishing feature of this ethnological group in the fact that they, in contrast to the Polynesians, are conspicuously devoid of native history and oral tradition.[215]But this rule is evidently subject to at least one important exception, as the Fijians are known to celebrate subjects from their legendary history in their choral dance-songs.[216]One is led to believe, therefore, that in some other island, also of the Melanesian group, traditional poetry and traditional dramas may haveexisted, but escaped the attention of the ethnologists. Negative statements are never to be unreservedly relied upon, least of all perhaps in accounts of uncivilised men. The case of the Navajo affords an instructive and warning example, which falls exactly within the limits of the present investigation. In spite of the statement by Dr. Letherman, who is acknowledged to have been a “man of unusual ability,” that the Navajos had “no knowledge of their origin or of the history of their tribe,”[217]Dr. Washington Matthews has been able to gather his imposing collection of historical songs and traditional commemorative customs.[218]
An incident of this kind is apt to make us sceptical with regard to the assertion of Captain Cook, which has, however, been unreservedly quoted by Lubbock and Spencer, that the Maoris, a race noted for old legends and ancient lore, in 1770 had no recollection of Tasman’s visit to their island.[219]And one is inclined to doubt the trustworthiness of Schoolcraft’s informant when he says that the Appalachian Indians had lost all recollection of De Soto’s expedition.[220]Compared with the statements concerning the Lenape and the Mohicans, who still remember Hudson, and the Iroquois and the Algonquins, who preserve traditions of the first white immigrants,[221]this assertion will, in any case, lose its force as a judgment upon the whole North American race, in which sense it has, however, been used by Lubbock.[222]On a closer investigation the Chinooks will perhaps be alsodischarged from the unfavourable verdict passed upon them by Kane, who could never hear any traditions as to their former origin.[223]
It is safest, therefore, merely to state generally and approximately that among the lower savages the commemorative element is lost sight of amid the prevailingimpromptuproductions. With higher culture the commemorative inclination appears to become intensified. But its growth cannot be considered as closely accompanying the general mental evolution. Whatever great treasures of epical poetry and literature may some day be found amongst the Melanesians, their relative inferiority in this respect can never be contested. When a group like this, notwithstanding its unsurpassed ability in formative art,—which, however, seems to suggest a commemorative purpose,[224]—can be outdone in matters of oral history and tradition, not only by the Polynesians but even, it would seem, by the Australians,[225]there is of course no possibility of applying the general scheme of evolution to fix the definite beginnings of commemorative art.A prioriassertions do not count in a question in which the reality defeats the assumptions of probability in such a surprising manner. Before the ethnological knowledge becomes more complete no statement as to traditional art can be accepted as definite.
The scantiness of reliable information does not, however, constitute the greatest difficulty. The facts themselves, even if their authenticity is granted, are often liable to the most inconsistent interpretations. For anexact appreciation of the influence which the commemorative impulse has exercised on the history of art it is insufficient to enumerate examples, however many might be found, of traditionally preserved works of art. The really important thing is to distinguish works which can be considered as genuine specimens of historical art,i.e.as the outcome of a commemorative intention, from the mere survivals which resemble these in so confusing a manner. In almost every artistic manifestation we can read a story of the past. The tenacity with which the old forms and the old technical procedures are retained lends a documentary value to every ornament, picture, or poem. By authors with a predilection for historic interpretations this record element is apt to be considered as intentionally aimed at. The euhemeristic view will in this way be applied to the history of art, with results that are often as extravagant as the mythological theories themselves. For every detail in a dance or dramatic performance a reason has been looked for in some event of real occurrence. This method has its strong and sensible side—and a very sensible one indeed—in that it does away with the idea of a rich and creative imagination in primitive man. It can also be applied to with great advantage for the explanation of artistic manifestation, which would otherwise be quite incomprehensible.[226]But its use is not, any more than that of any other general theory, to be recommended as a master-key to all the mysteries of ceremonialism and ritual art. The shortcomings of the method are strongly emphasised by the fact that it has failed in cases which have been chosen expressly for its illustration.
Foremost amongst the advocates of euhemerism in the study of ceremonial stands Captain Bourke, who has taken up and extended to the rites and dramas of the living savages the theory of Higgins, that all ceremonies of antiquity were created with a view of preserving to the memory ancient learning and ancient traditions.[227]It would be extremely unfair to accuse this indefatigable hunter after analogies of a limited understanding. In questions of ritualistic detail, such, for instance, as those of the flour-sprinkling customs, his comparative studies are not only unsurpassed as proofs of learning, but are also full of valuable and instructive suggestions.[228]The stately array of facts which he has collected from all stages of culture does not, however, convince any impartial reader of the correctness of the main assertions in his books. A student of comparative psychology, for instance, will always remember the psycho-pathological influences which everywhere and always tend to provoke the same sort of horrid, scatological orgies, in which Captain Bourke has seen a commemoration of some old, exceptional conditions of life.[229]As to the snake-dance at Walpi, which forms the subject of his earliest great work, it cannot be denied that some details in the rite and some of the ceremonial paraphernalia are illustrative of a way of life which presumably predominated amongst the prehistoric Pueblo-Indians.[230]From the dance one might therefore reconstruct an epitomised history of the tribe, which would supplement the tales that are told by the constructional details of the “kiva” architecture and thedecorative adornments of the Pueblo pottery.[231]But it seems unjustifiable to adduce, as Mr. Spencer has done, this rite as a typical specimen of commemorative ancestor-worship.[232]In attempting to explain the origin and the purpose of the rite, the later investigators have also on good grounds neglected to appeal to the commemorative intention. As has been conclusively shown by the consummate researches of Mr. Fewkes, the snake-ceremonials are mainly and chiefly to be considered as dramatic expressions of the water-cult, which permeates every department in the life of the Pueblo-Indians.[233]Through such an interpretation the drama is brought into close connection with the religious system as well as with the practical necessities of the Pueblo-Indians. Its significance as the most important of all the national ceremonies is easily understood, when the rite in its entirety is regarded as only an active form of the same prayer for rain, which is pictorially conveyed in the sand-mosaics and in the painted ornaments of the tribe.[234]Its various details, on the other hand, will find their most unsought-for explanation when considered as contributing to the great propitiatory purpose. Whatever value and interest an euhemeristic interpretation might have for a student of the prehistoric Pueblo-life, the psycho-sociological conditions of the rite, so to speak, can be fully comprehended only when they are investigated in connection with the ideas of ritual magic and religious propitiation. The same view holds good, we believe, with regard to almost allthe religious ceremonies of uncivilised man, although it may be impossible to prove it in every individual case, as the facts themselves generally are entangled in a most exasperating manner. They must be detached not only from the theoretical constructions of the anthropologists, but also from the euhemeristic interpretations of the natives themselves. The native dogmatism will often be even more misleading than that of the scientists.
It is a well-known phenomenon, which often repeats itself, that when a higher stage of culture is reached the original significance of a rite or a custom falls into oblivion. The custom itself, will, however, with the tenacious conservatism that characterises man, be rigorously maintained long after its origin has been forgotten. Amongst the lower savages no other justification of these ceremonies—incomprehensible to the participants themselves—is necessary than the oft-quoted “our fathers did so before us.” But with increased intellectual development there must arise a craving for some reasonable explanation. The semi-civilised man never cares to admit to how great an extent his actions are automatical. Hence the rationalisation of rites and customs,—familiar to every student of Christian theology,—which has its beginnings even in the higher stages of savagery. The rationalisation most readily adopted by tribes without developed philosophical or ethical notions is the historical one. The simple and honest argument “because our fathers did so” is replaced by the fictitious motive of keeping up the memory of the doings of the fathers. When once this reasoning obtains full power it will soon cover the whole field of ritual life. Every incomprehensible feature in ceremonies or customs will be explainedthrough reference to the past. And when knowledge of events falls short of affording such an explanation, popular imagination will always be prone to substitute itself for the missing reality.[235]In this way a commemorative excuse can easily be found for every apparently illogical action in life.
In fact, the creation of “etiological” or justificatory history and mythology is by no means limited to the department of religious ritualism. Even more trivial actions, such as games and pastimes, will, amongst tribes with developed historical tendencies, be connected with imaginary occurrences, which latter will be found to account for every detail in such games and pastimes. With the Cherokee Indians, for example, we find a most intricate animal story, in which the action of the bat, the eagle, and other creatures closely correspond to the movements of the different participators in the national ball-play.[236]Although much may be said in favour of the ingenious hypothesis of Professor Groos, who suggests that military games, such as chess and draughts, may have been developed from dramatic narratives of real battles, supplemented perhaps with maps drawn in the sand and simple symbols—stones, pebbles, etc.—representing the various armies and soldiers;[237]and although it may reasonably be assumed that the beasts in the animal story of the Cherokees represents thetotemsof some old Indian chiefs,—a story like this must be considered as secondary, in its details at least, to the play. More artificial still it sounds when the Moondahs in Bengal affirm that their popular Easter-game of pushing eggs the one against the other in reality serves as a meansof commemorating the feats of Sing Bonga, who, with a single hen’s egg, crushed the iron globes of his rivals.[238]
Unfortunately, it is but seldom that the commemorative motive shows its fictitious nature with so much evidence as in this game. In most cases there will always be a doubt as to whether the religious drama, poem, or design was originally intended as a means of conveying knowledge of some real or legendary event, or whether the idea of these events was derived from a simple game, a propitiative poem, or a magical design. We have quoted some instances in which the historical interpretation is secondary only. But there could easily be adduced other instances in which the opposite is the case. Ancient poems, whose historical and legendary character is quite incontestable, may often be used as charms in magical ceremonies.[239]It seems quite impossible therefore to pronounce any definite judgment as to priority between myth and ceremony without special investigation of every single case. In the department of pictorial art it is scarcely less difficult to separate the genuinely commemorative elements from the close interweaving of different motives, which call into existence a work of art.
Foremost in rank amongst all the works of design and sculpture that have influenced artistic evolution stand the likenesses of a deceased person which are placed by the relatives on his grave or in his home. To civilised man it is most natural to look upon these effigies as tokens of loving remembrance by which the survivors endeavour to keep fresh the memory of the departed. It is also easy for us to understand that the pious feelings extended towards such effigies may acquire an almost religious character. There is something to be said therefore on behalf of the view that commemorative monuments have been the predecessors of idols proper. Lubbock, who interprets Erman’s description of the Ostyak religion[240]in this way, quotes in further corroborationThe Wisdom of Solomon, in which work there is to be found a detailed account of the evolution of idolatry from memorial images.[241]The probability, however, is that in pictorial as well as in dramatic art the purely commemorative intention belongs to the latter stages of culture. It seems in most cases to be beyond doubt that among the lowest tribes the images serve as paraphernalia in the animistic rites. They are either taken to be embodiments of the ancestors’ soul, or receptacles in which this soul, if properly invoked, might take up its abode for the occasion. And similar superstitious notions are entertained, not only with regard to the monuments proper erected on the graves of powerful ancestors, but also with regard to such minor works as,e.g., the dolls which are often prepared by West African mothers when they have lost a favourite child.[242]The vague and indistinct character of these images shows us also that no intellectual record of the individual has been aimed at. No more than the poetic effusions of regret with which the pious survivors endeavour to propitiate the names of the deceased, do these formative works of “pietas” give us any information as to the personality of him whom they pretend to represent.
This general notion, however, must not be allowed to prevent us from admitting that among sundry tribes of mankind the images may be historical. This is asserted with regard to the Bongos by Schweinfurth, and with regard to the Gold Coast negroes by Cruickshank. The wooden effigies on the Marquesas Islands are described by Herr Schmeltz as “constructed in memory of celebrated members of the tribe.”[243]The Melanesian sculptures also, according to Codrington, are chiefly commemorative. It must be observed, however, that according to his own description a sort of religious respect is paid at least to some of them.[244]More undeniably commemorative examples are to be found in New Zealand. Although no attempt to reproduce likenesses is made in these colossal wooden statues, they nevertheless more nearly approach the idea of monumental commemorative portraiture than any similar works of primitive art. The patterns of tattooing, that infallible means of identification amongst the Maoris, render it possible to preserve the memories of the individual ancestors through pictorial representation.[245]
Not less problematic than ancestral sculptures are the much-debated rock-paintings and engravings that can be found in every part of the world. Herr Andree finds a sort of learned bias in the general tendency to look for some serious, sacred, or historical meaning in every petroglyph. He points, very sensibly as itseems, to the prevailing impulse of the idle hand to scratch some figures, however meaningless, on every inviting and empty surface. Especially at much frequented localities—such as meeting-places, common thoroughfares, and places of rest for travellers—where the drawings of previous visitors call for imitation, this temptation must be looked upon as a very strong one.[246]There is no reason for regarding the savage and the prehistoric man as devoid of an impulse, which, as we all know, shows its strength among the very lowest and most primitive layers of civilised society. It is unnecessary, therefore, to find anything more remarkable in the petroglyphs than is to be found in the familiar pictures on walls, trees, and rocks which have been wantonly decorated by the modern vandal. This common-sense explanation is undoubtedly sufficient to account for the origin of many much-debated works of glyphic art. But however sound within its proper limits it cannot be extended so as to give a general solution of the petroglyph problem. It is not likely, as Mr. Im Thurn observes, that pictures such as the rock-engravings in Guiana, to produce which must have cost so much time and trouble, should have their origin in mere caprice and idleness.[247]
But even if the serious aspect of the petroglyphs is granted there still remains the difficulty of determining their special purpose. The historical explanation, although it would appear the most natural for us toadopt, is not to be taken unreservedly with regard to tribes on a low degree of development. What to us seems a sort of picture-writing might possibly serve a purpose anything but communicative. The so-called ideograms of the Nicobarese have, for example, according to Herr Svoboda, for their object the distraction of the attention of the malevolent demons from their houses and implements[248]. When investigating the ritual, especially the funeral ceremonies, one meets with various specimens of similar ideography, the thought-conveying purpose of which is deceptive.
By the above examples the ambiguous character of primitive art-works has been proved almostad nauseam. It appears that every single conclusion based upon isolated ethnological examples only is liable to be upset after a closer study of the facts. In order, therefore, to make any positive assertions as to the commemorative element in art we need some safer and more reliable grounds of argument than the inconsistent stories of travellers. We have, in other words, to investigate the social and psychological conditions which, in the respective cases, speak for or against the assumption of a commemorative impulse as a motive for art-production. Owing to our deficient knowledge of primitive life we are not able to rely upon these social and psychological data in every individual case. But we may nevertheless arrive at some broad results which in the main tally with, and corroborate the evidence afforded by, the majority of ethnological facts.
It is easy to understand why historical art holds no high place among the lower—that is, the hunting and fishing—tribes. Even if, as is the case in Australia,every unusual occurrence is represented in art with a view of keeping up its memory,[249]these accidental interruptions in a monotonous life cannot possibly contribute to the development of an historical interest—that is to say, a commemorative attention in the people. When, on the other hand, we meet, in barbaric and semi-barbaric tribes, with a flourishing traditional art, we can also, in most cases, point to some peculiar features in their life which have called for commemoration. In a general survey of traditional poetry one cannot but be struck by the great prevalence of legends about migrations.[250]As travels and incidents of travel were found to provide a favourite subject for the pantomimes and poems described in the preceding chapter, so these experiences have also exercised an important influence on the songs that have been preserved by oral tradition. And as we meet with numerous instances of improvised drama and poetry called forth by so eminently interesting an occurrence as the visit of some white people, so we can also trace the same theme in manifestations of historical art from dim and distorted narrations up to richly detailed descriptions like those of the Hawajian songs or of the Mangaian “Drama of Cook.”[251]The influence which these motives have exercised on the history of art is only in accordance with the universal laws of psychology. Tribal memory, no less than individual memory, is dependent for its development on some favourable external influences that stimulate the attention.
It must not surprise us, therefore, that the varying experiences of war have everywhere acted as a strongincentive on the commemorative impulse. In this case, however, we have to count with a factor of still greater importance in the directly utilitarian advantage which military nations derive from historical art. Through recounting or representing the exploits of earlier generations, the descendants acquire that healthy feeling of pride which is the most important factor of success in all brutal forms of the struggle for life. So it has come about that historic art has everywhere reached its highest state of development amongst nations who have had to hold their ownvi et armisagainst neighbouring tribes, or in the midst of which antagonistic families have fought for supremacy. The more the social institutions have been influenced by the customs of war, the more important is usually the part which commemoration plays in public life. It is highly prominent in semi-feudal Polynesia,[252]where domestic warfare was at all times of regular occurrence; it has developed to some extent in warlike Fiji,[253]notwithstanding the Melanesian indifference for the past; and it has obtained the position of a state function in military despotisms, such as the barbaric kingdoms of Central and South America and Western Africa.[254]In isolated tribes, on the other hand, whose whole struggle has been one against nature, historical art is generally to be found at a very low ebb.
That bygone events have been preserved in history and art chiefly for the sake of their effect in enhancing the national pride can also be concluded from the way in which humiliating incidents are treated. There are, it is true, a few isolated and unhappy tribes which keep up some dim traditions of their inglorious past.[255]Generally, however, defeats are totally ignored in the earliest chronicles. If, however, an unsuccessful battle should have provoked artistic manifestations, these aim at masking the humiliation.[256]The ancient history of Greece affords the most curious examples of myths and inventions by means of which the popular imagination contrived to conceal disagreeable truths. The fate of Phrynichos, who was fined for having revived the memory of the defeat at Miletus, shows that Greece, even at a much later period, preserved the same primitive ideas as to theraison d’êtreof historic art. It is needless to point out to how great an extent similar conceptions still prevail amongst all warlike nations, civilised and barbarous alike.
We must not overlook the fact, however, that defeats are often represented in unmasked form for the purpose of stirring up a revengeful spirit. But this apparent exception only proves the rule. By appealing to the wounded dignity of the people, poems and dramas of this kind serve the cravings of collective pride as effectively—although, no doubt, indirectly—as manifestations of the opposite order. An increased attention to the past, with a corresponding richness of traditional art, can also generally be found in nationswhere revenge is considered as a sacred duty bequeathed to descendants by their ancestors.
When historic art is regarded as a means of handing down to posterity a knowledge of the present, a connection with the same group of emotions is easily discoverable. The great works of commemoration are all monuments of boasting. By the grandiloquent hieroglyphs on palaces and pyramids and by the extolling hymns that he orders to be sung in his praise, the exultant hero endeavours to win from future admirers a meed of praise which shall quench his unsatisfied thirst for glorification. Even in this case, therefore, history, in its psychological sense—that is, the concentration of attention upon times other than the present—has been born of pride.
By relying on this emotionalistic interpretation we can explain the otherwise extraordinary development of commemorative art amongst tribes on relatively low stages of intellectual development. The same explanation also accounts for the artistic value of the primitive records. The intensely emotional element of exultation, pride, and boasting that pervades so many of the commemorative poems and dramas makes this kind of history an art in the proper sense of the word.
It is needless to point out expressly that literary and formative arts may be used for conveying thought-contents which cannot, properly speaking, be called historical. We have restricted our attention to the unmistakably commemorative forms, because in these alone can the purpose of information be isolated with any degree of certainty. By tracing the gradual development of narrative art from those simplest manifestations in which the work is immediately connected with the real occurrence that called it into existence, up to the more complex forms of transmitted art, in which distant events are represented, we have endeavoured to keep our argument within the limits of positive research. This safe ground we should be compelled to abandon if we were to engage in the otherwise so fascinating task of unearthing historical elements in mythological tradition.
It seems impossible, moreover, to treat of such art-forms as the nature-myths, the tales, and the animal stories without bringing in those factors which should especially be kept outside the present research—the art-impulse, the play-impulse, or the delight in pure invention for invention’s sake; whereas we are justified in treating even the highest purely commemorative art as the development of an activity which was connected with the utilitarian end of information.
It must not be overlooked, however, that primitive art offers some important and purely didactic manifestations which have no historical purpose. Thus, among savages and barbarians, dramatic performances, poetic recitals, and pictorial representations often serve as means of expounding religious or philosophical doctrines. We need only refer to the most striking instances, such as the Australian miracle-plays, in which the old men enact before the boys a representation of death and resurrection.[257]Although less elaborate in dramaticdetail and stage-management, the fragmentary dramas in which the Indian shaman novitiates are supposed to be killed and recalled to life present to us a scarcely less interesting result of the same great thought.[258]There are indeed, especially in this later example, good reasons for assuming that the simulated death and resurrection are supposed to effect, in a magical way, some kind of spiritual regeneration in the novitiates on whose behalf the drama is performed. But while admitting this, we may nevertheless take it for granted that an endeavour to elucidate the doctrines of the shaman priesthood may be combined with the magical rite in question. And similarly, with regard to analogous ceremonies in other tribes, we feel justified in assuming the presence of a didactic purpose. The more the doctrinal system becomes fixed and elaborated, the greater need will there ensue of affording these doctrines a clear expression in the objective forms of art.
What has been said about religious and philosophical subjects in dramatical art refers equally to poems and paintings. We have therefore to regard the requirements of religious instruction as a factor which has favoured the development of art in all its departments. But we have no means of ascertaining at what precise stage in the evolution this factor, as distinct from other motives, began to exercise its influence. The settlement of this special point, however, is not indispensable to a general comprehension of the principles of art-history.
It is more important, from our point of view, to determine the influence which the purely intellectualmotive of conveying with the greatest possible clearness a thought-content, be it historical, religious, or philosophical, has exercised on the artistic representations of life and nature. Although of itself essentially non-æsthetic, this purpose has nevertheless called into existence some most important æsthetic qualities. Especially in narrative painting we may often observe how the virtues of exactness, explicitness, and comprehensibility give a character of beauty to representations which may have originated in a purely practical intention. As has been clearly pointed out by Mr. Walter Crane, the Egyptian hieroglyphs have reached their “wonderful pitch of abstract yet exact characterisation” precisely because they had the character and the purpose of a “decorative record.” The same necessity, viz. that “every object had to be clearly defined so as to be recognised at once and easily deciphered,”[259]is undoubtedly to a great degree responsible for the element of beauty which is to be found in the pictography of North American Indians. Practical utility has in this way subserved the development of an attention to the picturesque side of things. But one has only to look at the more symbolical systems of ideographic writing, such as the Assyrian, the Mexican, and the Chinese, in order to understand that the intellectual requirement by itself never would have created anartisticrepresentation of nature.[260]
This distinction is especially indispensable for a right conception of the intellectual elements in poetry. It is undeniable that some of the most important qualities in literature were developed during the time when it was used chiefly as a means for conveying information. Thepractical considerations therein have undoubtedly influenced the form of the oral narrative. It is evident, for example, that the metrical and rhythmical recital must have proved the more serviceable whenever a thought-content was to be preserved for futurity. But this fact gives no authorisation to those curious theories according to which poetry was invented and developed, thanks to its merits as a mnemonic device. It is, as was long since remarked by Brown,[261]difficult to understand how rhythm, numbers, and verse could have been devised as assistance for the memory, supposing nothing of that kind to have been existing before. And even if we admit that they could have been invented by accident, it is plain, when we fix our mind on theessentialqualities of poetry, that the use of rhythm and metre to aid memory could only have supplied amechanicalcondition to facilitate the development of poetic art.