It is a matter of common observation that our children very early
take delight in pictures of animals and in making delineations of
them. It is further noticeable that the quality of the drawing makes
no difference to children, and they are as pleased with the crudest
representation of an animal as their elders are with a life-like
portrait. In all this the child closely resembles the folk, whether
they be the backward classes among ourselves or the less advanced
peoples. All these agree in being satisfied with diagrammatic realism.
Savages, however, vary greatly in their power of representing animal
forms. In Fig. 3 we have a number of outlines of animals which were
etched on bamboo pipes or carved on wooden drums by the Papuan natives
of the islands of Torres Straits or of the adjacent coast of New
Guinea. The figures are all reduced to the same scale by photography
from tracings of the original delineations, and are therefore faithful
copies of the originals. A glance at the figure will show that the
animals are drawn with a very fair degree of accuracy, so that in
most cases it is perfectly easy to identify the genus of the animal
intended. There are numerous little touches which appeal to the eye
of the naturalist as indicating keen observation on the part of the
artists; for example, the sharks (C, D) are always drawn with unequally
lobed tails, the tail of the dugong (M) is accurately rendered; several
characteristic details are, as a rule, well brought out in the drawings
of the cassowaries (K). On the other hand, there are several anatomical
mistakes, as for instance, giving shark-like gill-slits to a bony-fish,
or even to a crocodile. The mouth is represented in a sucker-fish
(F) as being on the upper side of the head, whereas it should be
underneath, and the view of that fish’s tail would be impossible from
that particular point of view; but these and numerous other similar
examples which I could name are merely due to a desire to express
several salient features, without regard to the possibility of their
being all seen at once. The artists’ aim was to give a recognisable
representation of animals, and in this they have as a rule succeeded
perfectly; it is captious to expect more from them.
On other parts of the mainland of New Guinea one rarely meets with
representations so life-like as these,[94] and nowhere else on that
largest of islands are so many kinds of animals drawn. Animals are
often depicted by the Australians, but usually these are very poor as
works of art; they are also employed in pictography.
[94] O. Schellong, “Notizen über das Zeichnen der Melanesier,”
_Internat. Arch. für Ethnogr._, viii., 1895, p. 57. (Plates
VIII., IX.) A. C. Haddon, _The Decorative Art of British New
Guinea_.
Although animals are so frequently drawn by the Torres Straits
Islanders, they never arrange them in groups or in series. They are
pictures of individuals, drawn for decorative effect, but they have no
story to tell. The only exception to this rule occurs in the case of
certain animals, two of which are sometimes placed symmetrically on
the decorated object.
Representations of animals are not uncommon in Melanesia, but they
are distinctly of rare occurrence in Polynesia. They occur in
great profusion in America from north to south, but here they are
predominantly religious or pictographic in significance. Animal forms
are not characteristic of African art, except among the Bushmen, and
there we find pictures of animals which are comparable with those of
the Eskimo or the natives of Torres Straits.
As far back as the time when men hunted the reindeer and wild horse in
Western Europe do we find drawings of animals. This was at the time
period when the glacial cold was abating and when men lived in caves,
used chipped, unpolished stone implements, and were unacquainted with
pottery. In archæological nomenclature this is known as the Epoque
Magdalénienne of the Cave Period in the Palæolithic Age. The figures
of the mammoth, reindeer, horse (Fig. 90), etc., are usually cleverly
etched on bone or ivory, and sometimes they are wonderfully life-like
and accurate; the representation of human beings are as a rule very
weak indeed.
[Illustration: FIG. 90.—Horses etched on an antler from La Madelaine;
from Taylor.]
“The wild horse roamed in immense herds over Europe, and formed the
chief food of the palæolithic hunters. In some of the caverns in
France the remains of the horse are more abundant than those of any
other animal, more even than those of the wild ox. Thus at Solutré,
near Macon, the bones of horses, which had formed the food of the
inhabitants of this station, form a deposit nearly 10 feet in depth
and more than 300 feet in length, the number of skeletons represented
being estimated at from 20,000 to 40,000. This primitive horse was
a diminutive animal, not much larger than an ass, standing about 13
hands high, the largest specimens not exceeding 14 hands. But the
head was of disproportionate size, and the teeth were very powerful.
He resembles the tarpan or wild horse of the Caspian steppes. A
spirited representation of two of these wild horses is engraved on an
antler found at the station of La Madelaine in the Department of the
Dordogne.”[95]
[95] Isaac Taylor, _The Origin of the Aryans_, p. 158.
It is impossible for me to do more than just touch on the subject
of the relation of animals to decorative and pictorial art; the few
examples I can offer will, however, demonstrate its importance.
Wherever it occurs the crocodile or the alligator, as the case may
be, almost invariably finds its way into the decorative art of the
district. From north to south the crocodile asserts itself in the
decorative art of New Guinea; for further information the reader is
referred to Dr. Uhle,[96] who has made an elaborate study of the
crocodile in Malayo-Papuan art, has noted the strange metamorphoses to
which it is subjected in north-west New Guinea; he also draws attention
to the cult of the reptile in these parts. The belief of a relationship
between the crocodile and man occurs among the Malays of Sumatra,
Batta, Java, Makassar and the Bugis, Tagals, in Banka, Timor, Bouru,
Aru, and the south-western islands. The Javanese have no fear of the
crocodile when bathing, they believe that their “grandfathers” and
“fathers” could do them no harm. The crocodile is reverenced in Borneo
and killed only when the blood-revenge demands it; their teeth are
used as talismans all over the island. The inhabitants of Kupang and
Timor have an unconquerable fear of the killing of crocodiles and pray
by dead ones. Even the Malays (Hovas) of Madagascar are afraid to kill
crocodiles, since they would revenge themselves.
[96] M. Uhle, “Holz- und Bambus-Geräthe aus N.W. Neu Guinea,”
_K. Eth. Mus., Dresden_, vi., 1886, p. 6.
From Melanesia we will pass to Central America and take advantage of
Mr. W. H. Holmes’s masterly study of the ancient art of the province of
Chiriqui in the Isthmus of Panama.[97]
[97] W. H. Holmes, “Ancient Art of the Province of Chiriqui,
Colombia,” _Sixth Annual Report of the Bureau of Ethnology_,
1884-85. Washington, 1888.
Wherever it occurs, the crocodile or the alligator, as the case may
be, almost invariably finds its way into the decorative art of the
district. From north to south the crocodile asserts itself in the
decorative art of New Guinea; and, although associated with other
animals, the alligator predominates among the zoomorphs of the Chiriqui.
[Illustration: FIG. 91.—Conventional alligator from the “lost colour”
ware of Chiriqui; after Holmes.]
In Fig. 91, we have a highly conventionalised representation of an
alligator. The scutes (or scales) are represented by spotted triangles
and run along the entire length of the back; a row of dashes in the
mouth indicates the teeth.
In another class of ware the treatment is quite different, more clumsy,
but prominence is given to a number of corresponding features; the
strong curve of the back, the triangles, dots, the muzzle, and mouth.
In Fig. 92 all the leading features are recognisable, but are very much
simplified, and the body is without indication of scales, the head is
without eyes, the jaws are without teeth, and the upward curve of the
tip of the upper jaw in the last figure is greatly exaggerated, but
this is a common feature in these representations.
[Illustration: FIG. 92.—Simplified figure of an alligator from the
“alligator” ware of Chiriqui; after Holmes.]
The spaces to be decorated also largely determine the lines of
modification. In Fig. 93 we have an example crowding an elongated
figure into a short rectangular space. The head is turned back over the
body, the sunken curve of the back is enormously exaggerated, and the
tail is thrown down along the side of the panel.
[Illustration: FIG. 93.—Alligator design, Chiriqui; after Holmes.]
It often happens that the animal form, literally rendered, does not
fill the panels satisfactorily. The head and tail do not correspond,
and there is a lack of balance. In such cases, as Mr. Holmes points
out, two heads have been preferred. The body is given a uniform
double curve and the heads are turned down, as in Fig. 94. This figure
“is extremely interesting on account of its complexity and the novel
treatment of the various features. The two feet are placed close
together near the middle of the curved body, and on either side of
these are the under jaws turned back and armed with dental projections
for teeth. The characteristic scale symbols occur at intervals along
the back; and very curiously at one place, where there is scant room,
simple dots are employed, showing the identity of these two characters.
Some curious auxiliary devices, the origin of which is obscure, are
used to fill in marginal spaces.” Judging from some of the figures
in Fig. 100 we may regard the upper supplementary device as another
alligator derivative.
[Illustration: FIG. 94.—Alligator delineation, greatly modified,
Chiriqui; after Holmes.]
Fig. 95 is an extreme form of conventionalised alligator which has
become metamorphosed into an apparently meaningless design which is
intended to be symmetrical.
[Illustration: FIG. 95.—Highly conventionalised alligator derivative,
Chiriqui; after Holmes.]
In Fig. 96 we have a series showing the degeneration of the alligator
into a curved line and a spot. The series shown in Fig. 97 illustrate
the tendency of linear bands not only to cramp the original in a
vertical direction, but to force it into a serial pattern. Fig. 97, A,
is a simplification of such a two-headed form as Fig. 94. One might be
tempted to regard it as a doubly tailed form, but such do not appear to
have been recognised by Mr. Holmes. The transition from this undoubted
alligator derivative to the broad chevron of Fig. 97, E, is quite
obvious, the conventional scutes, dotted triangles, together with the
zigzag body alone forming the pattern, and in Fig. 97, F, the latter
has disappeared. Mr. Holmes states “there is little doubt that the
series continues further, ending with simple curved lines and even with
straight lines unaccompanied by auxiliary devices.”
[Illustration: FIG. 96.—Series of derivatives of the alligator, showing
stages of simplification, Chiriqui; after Holmes.]
[Illustration: FIG. 97.—Series of alligator derivatives, showing
modification through use in narrow zones, Chiriqui; after Holmes.]
Mr. Holmes also points out that the Chiriqui have arrived at the
scroll and fret by way of the alligator. I can here illustrate only
two of these (Figs. 98, 99); in these the body of the reptile is the
element of the design. In other cases Mr. Holmes finds that parts of
the creature, such as head, feet, eye, or scales, assume the role of
radicles, and pass through a series of modification ending in purely
geometrical devices.
[Illustration: FIG. 98.—Scroll derived from the body-line of the
alligator, Chiriqui; after Holmes.]
[Illustration: FIG. 99.—Fret derived from the body-line of the
alligator, Chiriqui; after Holmes.]
The designs in Fig. 100 are painted upon low rounded prominences on
vases, and hence are enclosed in circles. In Fig. 100, A, the alligator
is coiled up, but still preserves some of the well-known characters
of that reptile. In B, we have the double hook modification of the
alligator’s body, but the triangles are placed separately against the
encircling line. In the next figure the body-line is omitted, and three
dotted scutes alone represent the animal. The four scutes of the next
designs assume a symmetrical position, and the central crossed line may
represent the alligator’s body. In the last figure of this series the
cross has become the predominating feature, and the spots have migrated
into it, so that the triangles have become mere interspaces.
[Illustration: FIG. 100.—Series of alligator derivatives, showing
modification through use within a circular area, Chiriqui; after
Holmes.]
Finally, Fig. 101 is a zone pattern, painted on an earthen drum, the
central zigzag line represents the body of the alligator, and the
notched hooks its extremities; these are here arranged with perfect
regularity, but sometimes only the latter occur in patterns, and then
they are often somewhat irregularly disposed.
[Illustration: FIG. 101.—Pattern composed of alligator derivatives,
from a clay drum painted in the style of the “lost colour group,”
Chiriqui; after Holmes.]
From his prolonged study of ancient American art, Mr. Holmes formulates
the following generalisation:—“The agencies of modification inherent
in the art in its practice are such that any particular animal form
extensively employed in decoration is capable of changing into or
giving rise to any or to all of the highly conventional decorative
devices upon which our leading ornaments, such as the meander, the
scroll, the fret, the chevron, and the guilloche, are based” (p.
187). The importance of the following conclusion is obvious:—“We are
absolutely certain that no race, no art, no motive or element in
nature or in art can claim the exclusive origination of any one of
the well-known or standard conventional devices, and that any race,
art, or individual motive is capable of giving rise to any and to
all such devices. Nothing can be more absurd than to suppose that
the signification or symbolism attaching to a given form is uniform
the world over, as the ideas associated with each must vary with the
channels through which they were developed” (p. 183).
The investigations of Dr. P. Ehrenreich and Professor Karl von den
Steinen on the decorative art of various tribes in Central Brazil have
led to results which may, without exaggeration, be termed startling.
The patterns employed by these people typically belong to the class
which is popularly described as geometrical. On page 176 I have
selected examples of these patterns which will give a fair idea of the
style of design.
Dr. Ehrenreich[98] informs us that in the Bakaïri chiefs’ huts a frieze
of blackened bark tablets run along the wall which are painted in
white clay with very characteristic figures and patterns of fish. All
the geometric figures are in reality diagrammatic representations of
concrete objects, mostly animals. “Thus a wavy line with alternating
spots denotes a large, dark-spotted colossal snake, the Anaconda
(_Eunectes murinus_); a rhomboidal mark signifies a lagoon-fish,
whereas a triangle does not by any means indicate that simple
geometrical figure, but the small, three-cornered article of women’s
clothing” (p. 98).
[98] “Mittheilungen über die zweite Xingu-Expedition in
Brasilien,” _Zeitschrift für Ethnologie_, xxii., 1890, p. 89.
The following quotation is also translated from Dr.
Ehrenreich[99]:—“The ornaments of the Karaya consist of patterns
of zigzag lines, crosses, dots, lozenges, and peculiar interrupted
meanders, whereas the quadrate and triangle occur only incidentally
(that is, owing to the filling up of other figures), and circles are
entirely absent. As in the ornamentation of the Xingus tribes, so also
here occur those apparently entirely arbitrary geometrical combinations
fundamentally of wholly defined concrete presentments, of which the
most characteristic traits are therein reproduced. Unfortunately it
is not always possible to correctly ascertain the respective natural
objects. The frequently occurring cross (Fig. 102, A), which in
America has so often given occasion for amusing hypotheses, is here
nothing but a kind of lizard.... Also peculiarly characteristic are
the extensive wings of a bat (Fig. 102, B), as well as the frequently
occurring snake pattern, such as Fig. 102, C, which represents the
rattlesnake, while another snake is represented in Fig. 102, D.
Accurate representations of men and animals, as we know them to be
done so excellently by the Bushmen and Eskimo, do not appear to be
forthcoming among the Karaya.”
[99] “Beiträge zur Völkerkunde Brasiliens,” _Veröffentlichungen
aus dem königlichen Museum für Völkerkunde_, Berlin, ii., 1891,
pp. 24, 25.
[Illustration: FIG. 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.]
Professor von den Steinen[100] describes the above-mentioned frieze
more fully. The pieces of bark, which were from 15 cm. to 40 cm. (6 to
16 inches) broad, were blackened with soot, and the white or yellowish
lime applied with the fingers. The frieze itself was over 56 m. (over
184 feet) in length.
[100] _Unter den Naturvölkern Zentral-Brasiliens:
Reiseschilderung und Ergebnisse der Zweiten
Schingú-Expedition_, 1887-88. Berlin, 1894.
I would ask the reader to refer back to Fig. 52, p. 97, although this
motive is not a zoomorph, in order to show that triangular designs, or
resulting zigzags, may have various origins.
Only one tablet represented a plant. (Fig. 69.) It indicates the leaves
of a small “cabbage”-bearing wild palm.
The bulk of the motives for the decorative art of these people, the
Schingú tribes (the Xingu tribes of Ehrenreich), are drawn from the
animal world; Fig. 103 A, H, I, K, are Bakaïri patterns, and Figs. 103
B-F those of the Auetö.
The pattern to the right in Fig. 103, H, indicates a kind of ray, the
characteristic rings and dots which ornament the skin of this fish are
here represented.
[Illustration: FIG. 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.]
Common to all the tribes of the Schingú stock is the employment of
conventionalised representations of the _mereschu_. This is a small
compressed lagoon-fish, about 19 cm. (7½ inches) long, and 9.5 cm.
(3¾ inches) deep; its colour is silver-grey with brown spots. The
_mereschu_ belongs to the genus Serrasalmo or Myletes; the figure on
p. 260, given by Von den Steinen, looks as if it were drawn from a
badly-preserved spirit specimen, and one fails to see how Fig. 103,
C, for example, could by any stretch of the imagination be considered
to suggest that fish. On p. 613 of Dr. Günther’s _Introduction to the
Study of Fishes_ (Edinburgh, 1880) is an outline figure of _Serrasalmo
scapularis_; the contour of this fish is approximately rhomboidal, the
head, the dorsal fin, and the tail fin occupy three of its angles, and
the anal fin practically runs up to the fourth angle. Von den Steinen
points out that in most cases representations of these animal-forms
are incisions, not paintings, and the diagrammatic rendering of curved
lines by angles is due to this fact. The patterns which I am about to
describe are common to numerous allied tribes, and everywhere these
patterns bear the name by which this kind of fish is locally known.
Sometimes the _mereschu_ fish is employed singly, but most frequently
a number of them are evenly distributed over the decorated surface,
and between the fishes single, double, or even several lines may be
drawn, as in Fig. 103, B, C, E; these latter represent the net by means
of which these fish are caught. Thus we may have a fish-pattern or a
fishes-in-net pattern. These patterns are delineated on masks, posts,
spinning-whorls, and other objects. Fig. 103, B, is a pattern of the
_mereschu_ fishes-in-net group, but the fishes themselves are entirely
filled up with black, and not their angles only.
The Auetö pattern drawn in Fig. 103, F, is intended for a mailed- or
armadillo-fish.
On a Bakaïri paddle (Fig. 103, A) are incised four circles, which
are the ring-markings of a ray, _pinukái_, on the other side of
a transverse line follow two _mereschu_ in the meshes of a net,
then a _pakú_, and finally several _kuómi_ fish. Professor von den
Steinen believes that the object of this decoration is simply to
bring fish close to the paddle. “But it is extremely instructive to
see,” he continues,[101] “that concerning these scribblings, though
they certainly do not denote anything in their order of arrangement,
consequently are not picture-writing; however, every single one is
by no means a casual flourish, but the diagram of a well-defined
object, and consequently, in fact, represents _the element of a
picture-writing_.”
[101] _Loc. cit._, p. 269.
Zigzags and waved lines are snakes. Fig. 103, K, represents common
land-snake, the _agau_, or cobra of Brazil; to the left is the tail,
the head is simply rendered, and as the skin of the snake is marked the
artist characterised it by adding spots. Very similar is the _sukuri_
water-snake or anaconda (_Boa scytale_), drawn to the left of Fig. 103,
H. A boa-constrictor is indicated in Fig. 103, I; the row of diamonds
left on the dark background, between the two rows of triangles,
represents the marking of the snake’s skin. The larger terminal diamond
to the left is probably the boa’s head. A snake is also painted on a
Nahuquá bull-roarer (Fig. 103, G).
[Illustration: FIG. 104.—Patterns derived from bats; after Von den
Steinen. A. Bakaïri; B, C. Auetö.]
We have seen that rows of horizontal triangles are _uluris_, women’s
triangles, but when they are margined above by a line, as in Fig. 104,
B, they are bats; but rows of triangles vertically disposed, as in Fig.
104, C, are hanging bats; Fig. 104, A, is also a bat device.
Another triangular ornament (Fig. 105) represents small birds, called
by the Bakaïri natives _yaritamáze_, that is, they are a particular
kind of bird, not birds in general.
Finally, one would naturally consider that the ornament engraved on
the post, Fig. 103, D, is simply the favourite _mereschu_ pattern; but
Von den Steinen assures us that the central design is not composed
of _mereschu_, in which the angles are only slightly filled up, but
that it is a locust, the lines arising from the angles of the lozenge
being the legs. This locust pattern is, however, associated with true
_mereschus_, which may be seen between the legs of the locust.
[Illustration: FIG. 105.—Bird design, Bakaïri, Central Brazil; after
Von den Steinen.]
In Europe and in our own country we can study analogous transformations.
More or less recognisable animals break out, as it were into scrolls
and floral devices, as on Samian vases (Plate VI., Fig. 1), on Gaulish
swords (Fig. 2), on Pompeian walls (Fig. 3), and on the gold ornaments
of Tuscany (Fig. 5). In Fig. 4, Plate VI., we have on an ancient pot
from New Mexico a decorative treatment of birds which recalls that of
the mural paintings of Pompeii.
Often in Greece and Italy symmetrical scrolls are associated with a
head. (Plate VI., Fig. 6.) The scrolls themselves may, in some cases, be an
animal form which has ended in a flourish, as is taking place in Plate
VI., Fig. 5; or in others they may be the remnants of plant motive.
Dr. Colley March calls attention to old bench-ends of English churches,
notably those in Cornwall, which are frequently surmounted by a
crouching quadruped; at a later period this appears to be converted
into a single scroll like that which adorned the old pews in Ormskirk
Church. (Plate VI., Fig. 7.)
An ancient silver plate (Plate VI., Fig. 8), found in a tumulus at
Largo, Fifeshire, is decorated with the distorted fore-half of an
animal. The transformation is advanced to flamboyant curves in the
zoomorph of the Dunnichen Stone (Plate VI., Fig. 9); but the head and
ear and legs can still be distinguished. It is not quite certain what
animal this is intended to represent. Earl Southesk[102] believes it
to be the horse, which was sacred to Frey, and is a special symbol of
the sun. The second figure is very remarkable, but it seems to be an
extreme and foliated form of the same zoomorph.
[102] _Origins of Pictish Symbolism_, 1893.
There are numerous examples of linear series of animals in the early
art of Egypt, Assyria, Greece, and other artistic centres, but these
do not appear to have developed into patterns, possibly because the
units were readily recognisable, on the other hand, serially repeated
conventionalised zoomorphs frequently metamorphose into patterns. These
patterns by repeated copying tend to become simplified till finally not
only is all trace of the original long lost, but the resultant pattern
may so resemble other simple patterns as to be indistinguishable
from them. This may easily lead to confusion and cause the designs
to be classed as one. We thus come to the conclusion that before any
pattern can be termed the same as another, its life-history must be
studied, otherwise analogy may be confused with homology, and false
relationships erected. Things which are similar are not necessarily the
same.
At the extreme south-east end of New Guinea and in the adjacent
archipelago the most frequent designs are beautiful scroll patterns,
which are subject to many variations. I have already[103] described
many of these, and so there is no need to again repeat what I
have said, except to remind the reader that all these patterns
are variations of serially repeated conventionalised heads of the
frigate-bird. I shall again allude to this bird when I deal with the
relation of religion to art.
[103] Pp. 49-56, and at greater length in my Memoir on the
Decorative Art of British New Guinea.
In the same district one occasionally meets with a pattern (Fig.
106) which in some respects resembles the former and appears in some
cases to have been confounded with it. This one clearly arises
from the serial repetition of conventionalised heads of crocodiles.
The illustration is part of the carved rim of a wooden bowl in my
possession, which probably came from the Trobriands or the Woodlarks.
The triangles above the crocodiles’ snouts are coloured black, those
bounded by their jaws are painted red.
There is yet another method of representing animals which consists in
grouping them so as to tell a story, or, in other words, to make a
picture.
[Illustration: FIG. 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.]
Grouped animals rarely occur by themselves in decorative art; men,
houses, implements, and even vegetation are frequently associated
with them. The Arctic peoples, such as the Lapps, Eskimo, etc.,
greatly affect this form of art. The bulk of these pictures are
representations of hunting scenes, and many incidents in the lives of
these hyperboreans are depicted on bone and ivory. There is reason
for regarding these as records of particular events (cf. p. 207); but
they are also very useful to us as illustrations of native life and
industry. Animals are sometimes drawn foreshortened, and confused herds
of reindeer are often figured; but the grouping is mainly linear,
without effects of perspective being attempted.
This kind of art is extremely rare amongst savage peoples, in fact
its presence may be regarded as one of the proofs that the people
practising it have passed from a purely savage condition, and have made
some advance towards civilisation. It has reached its highest point in
the works of the great animal painters of the present day, and thus has
been one of the last forms of graphic art to be perfected.
As a general rule the inferior representations of animals in groups,
and of animal pictures generally, are not due to the process of
decay. They are the bad workmanship of inferior craftsmen. It is the
imperfection of immaturity, not the symptom of decadence.
The last stage of the life-cycle of this class of zoomorphs occurs when
incompetent draughtsmen copy the work of a master; when, for example,
we see on the walls of country inns cheap and badly-drawn copies of
Landseer’s pictures.
Animals also play a large part in mythology, and it is often very
difficult to determine the limits of totemism in this direction.
There are, however, numberless instances of legendary communications
and relationships, of friendliness and enmity between animals and
men, which have no connection with totemism, and these often form the
subject of decorative art. Sometimes the animal alone is represented,
at other times both man and animal are depicted, and according to
their artistic treatment we may have pictures, or should the zoomorph
and anthropomorph be rendered schematically, heteromorphism may
result. At present we have to deal with representations of animals
which illustrate some belief, myth, or folk-tale. The sacred art of
the Hebrews was almost free from zoomorphs, and that of Islam totally
so; with these exceptions there has scarcely been a religion in which
zoomorphs have not played a greater or less part.
I need only remind the reader of the numerous examples in which
animals are depicted in illustration of, or as a kind of mnemonic
of a folk-tale, a legend, or myth, and of some sacred tradition or
belief. There are so many intermediate stages between these different
phases that it is often impossible to draw the line between them. The
religious belief, with its sacred tradition of one age, becomes the
myth or the legend of a later period, subsequently it is perpetuated
as a folk-tale; later it may serve to amuse children, and lastly it
becomes the object of scientific study.
What I have termed the æsthetic life-history may occur to the zoomorph
at any or all of these stages of religious decadence. There is no
correlation between an extreme or medium phase in the æsthetic cycle
and a corresponding stage in the religious series. To take a homely
example, the illustrations of the most recently published fairy-tales
are as a whole of greater artistic merit than has been the average
illustration of sacred narratives during any period of the world’s
history.