The familiar story that Herodotus tells of the message sent by the Scythians to Darius is significant. It will be recalled that the Scythian messenger brought the body of a bird, a mouse, and a frog, together with a bundle of five arrows. Interrogated as to the meaning of this strange gift, the messenger replied that his instructions were to present the objects and retire. Darius and his officers were much puzzled to interpret the message, Darius himself being disposed to regard it as an admission on the part of the Scythians that they conceded him lord of their territory, the land, water, and air; but one of the officers of the great king gave a different interpretation, which was presently accepted as the correct one. As he read the message it implied that unless the Persians could learn to fly through the air like birds, or to burrow through the earth like a mouse, or to dive through the water like a frog, they should not be able to escape the arrows of the Scythians. Miss Amelia B. Edwards, in her delightful book on Egypt, has hazarded some conjectures as to the exact way in which the bird and mouse and frog and arrows were presented to Darius. She believes that they were fastened to a piece of bark, or perhaps to a fragment of hide, in fixed position, so that they became virtually hieroglyphics. The question is interesting, but of no vital importance, since the exact manner of presentation would not in any way alter the intent, but would only bear upon the readiness of its interpretation. The real point of interest lies in the fact of this transmission of ideas by symbols, which constitutes the essence of the art of writing.
It may be presumed that crude methods of sending messages, not unlike this of the Scythians, were practised more or less independently, and with greater or less degrees of elaboration, by barbaric and half-civilised tribes everywhere. The familiar case of the American Indians, who were wont to send a belt of wampum and an arrow as a declaration of war, is an illustration in point. The gap between such a presentation of tangible objects and the use of crude pictures to replace the objects themselves would not seem, from a civilised standpoint, to be a very wide one. Yet no doubt it was an enormously difficult gap to cross. Granted the idea, any one could string together the frog, the bird, the mouse, and the arrows, but only here and there a man would possess the artistic skill requisite to make fairly recognisable pictures of these objects. It is true that the cave man of a vastly earlier period had developed a capacity to draw the outlines of such animals as the reindeer and the mammoth with astonishing verisimilitude. Professor Sayce has drawn the conclusion from this that the average man dwelling in the caves of France at that remote epoch could draw as well as the average Frenchman of to-day; but a moment’s consideration will make it clear that the facts in hand by no means warrant so sweeping a conclusion. There is nothing to show, nor is there any reason to believe, that the cave-dweller pictures that have come down to us are the work of average men of that period. On the contrary, it is much more likely that they were the work, not of average men, but of the artistic geniuses of their day,—of the Michelangelos, Raphaels, or if you prefer, the Landseers, the Bonheurs, and Corots of their time.
There is no more reason to suppose that the average cave dweller could have drawn the reindeer hunting scene or the famous picture of the mammoth, than that the average Frenchman of to-day could have painted the