ANIMAL ESTHETICS.
SCENTS AND SOUNDS.
ONE of the oddest tales in the "Bestiaries," or stories of Bible animals written by the monks, is the legend of the panther. " The panther," so the homily runs, "is the .most beautiful of all beasts. More than this, when it goes abroad it diffuses a marvellous sweet perfume. This odour is .so sweet that all the other beasts and birds follow the panther wherever it goes. Wherefore the panther is a type of Virtue." Perhaps the old monks who borrowed and embellished this .story had heard of and misunderstood the strong love of .sweet scents which the panther and its relations, the lions and leopards, often show. The old theory of animal liking for scents denied them any share in such pleasures unless they suggested the presence of their food or prey. But such a :reason can hardly be alleged for a lion's liking for lavender-
w6ter ! The writer, wishing to test for himself the reported fondness of many animals for perfumes, paid a series of visits to the Zoological Gardens provided with bottles of scent and a packet of cotton-wool, and there tried some harmless experi- ments which apparently gave great satisfaction to many of the inhabitants. Lavender-water was the favourite scent, and most of the lions and leopards showed unqualified pleasure when the scent was poured on the wool and put into their cages. The first leopard to which it was offered, stood over the ball of cotton, shut its eyes, opened its mouth, and screwed up its nose, rather like the picture of the gentleman inhaling " Alkaram " in the advertisement. It then lay down and held it between its paws, rubbed its face over it, and finished by lying down upon it. Another leopard smelt it and sneezed ; then caught the wool in its claws, played with it, then lay on its back and rubbed its head and neck over the scent. It then fetched another leopard which was asleep in the cage, and the two sniffed it for some time together ; and the last-comer ended by taking the ball in its teeth, curling its lips well back, and inhaling the delightful perfume with half-shut eyes. The lion and lioness, when their turn came, tried to roll upon it at the same time. The lion then gave the lioness a cuff with his paw, which sent her off to the back of the cage, and having secured it for himself, laid his broad head on the morsel of scented cotton, and purred. These were all old inhabitants of the gardens, civilised. But at the end of the building was the lovely young Sokoto lion, with the spots of " oubhood " still showing like a pattern in damask on his skin. If he too liked the scent, it could hardly be an acquired taste. His reception of the new impression was different from that of the others. He lay down inhaling the scent with a dreamy look in his eyes. Then he made faces and yawned, turned his back on the scent, and thought. He then inhaled the perfume again for some time, walked slowly off to his bed, and lay clown to sleep.
The smaller cats were in many cases as pleased with the scent as the leopards, the ocelot in particular on one occasion, after inhaling the perfume, ate the small piece of paper on which it was poured. But the liking for lavender-water is by no means confined to the felidx. The Cape Ratels were delighted with the scent, and the racoon, when the bottle was presented to it corked, with great good sense pulled out the stopper; but this may have been due to curiosity, as it was at once thrown away. Other creatures, on the contrary, either cared nothing for the scent or found it disagreeable. An otter, in particular, gave a snort of disgust, dived into the water, and then ran to its mate, to whom it seemed to convey some of its impressions, for both otters carefully avoided the perfumed wool. No doubt there lies somewhere in our riverr, "under the glassy, cool translucent wave," or on their flower- bordered banks, some odorous herb or water-weed which the otters also love. That the pleasure felt by so many animals in the odour of "sweet lavender" is due to pure and simple enjoyment of a perfume, made intensely more delightful to them than to ourselves by the wonderful development of their sense of smell, seems clear, not only from the fact that so many species share this amiable fondness for the scent, but also because their liking for perfumes is by no means limited to that of lavender. A flask of rose-water will make as many friends among the leopards and their kin as will the former scent, and they also enjoy the sweet odour of pinks and lilac- blossom. The heavy scent of lilies and narcissi fails to please, perhaps on account of their strong narcotic qualities. It is not unlikely that the scent of these plants with which the Furies were said to stupify their victims, an odour which is often insupportable to men themselves, should be distasteful to their far more sensitive nostrils.
It could hardly be expected that in the matter of sweet sound, animals, any more than men, should think alike. The scent of the rose gives pleasure from the Himalayas to the Hebrides ; but the music that soothes the Highlander is to the Japanese as the howling of cats. Still, as to some men certain sounds are always musical, so to some animals these same sounds give pleasure. The taste finds perhaps its highest expression in those birds which actually learn to whistle the airs which they have heard from men, and its lowest in the snakes and reptiles which seem to be fascinated by the Indian pipe. The writer has heard more than one parrot whistle part of a tune, and then strike the octave of the last note ; and the piping crow at the Zoological Gardens, and a Persian bulbul
which was once an inmate of the same aviary, can whistle a tune perfectly. It is to be expected that birds which take such pleasure in each other's song should be most sensitive to sweet sounds new to them.
But the taste is not confined to birds. The old horses in the regimental riding-schools learn the meaning of the different bugle-calls ; and though it is not possible to say whether they distinguish between different airs, it is well known that they trot or gallop better to some tunes than to others. This may be compared with a curious story told by Playford, in his " Introduction to Music." "When travelling some years since," he writes, "I met on the road near Royston a herd of about twenty bucks following a bagpipe and a violin; while the music played they went forward ; when it ceased they all stood still : and in this manner they were brought out of Yorkshire to Hampton Court." Seals have long been known for their love of sweet sounds. Laing, in his account of a voyage to Spitzbergen, says that when a violin was played on board the vessel, a numerous audience of seals would often assemble and follow the vessel for miles. Sir Walter Scott mentions this taste in the lines,— " Rude Ffeiskars seals, through surges dark,
Would oft pursue the minstrel's bark ;"
and it is said that when the boll of the church on the island of Hoy rang, the seals within hearing swam to the shore and remained looking about them as long as it was tolled. In a less prosaic, age, the story of the seals of Hoy might have become an established myth of a successful "deep-sea mission" to the mermaids of the North. It would be interesting to make some musical experiments at the Zoological Gardens : but the only occasion on which the writer attempted this, led to such strong suspicions of his insanity among the visitors, that in the face of a caution addressed by an elderly nurse to her charges, "Don't go near 'im : he ain't right in his 'ead," he load not the courage to continue his researches.
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