Hilariously Inaccurate Depictions of Animals From History
By Jack Ripley | April 30, 2024
A Hippopotamus, Jacob van Maerlant, c. 1350
Have you ever wondered what people in the olden days thought animals looked like? Well have we got a surprise for you! Today we're taking a look at the curious and often amusing portrayals of animals found in medieval manuscripts and artworks.
From whimsical creatures to anthropomorphized beings, we're digging into their peculiar appearances in medieval art. Join us as we uncover how limited access to real animals for study, symbolic interpretations rooted in cultural and religious contexts, and a touch of humor and satire have all contributed to the fascinating world of historically inaccurate animal depictions in art.
In Jacob van Maerlant's depiction from around 1350, we encounter a rather peculiar portrayal of a hippopotamus. Rather than the robust and hefty creature we know today, this rendition presents a whimsical interpretation. The hippo appears more akin to a plump pig, with stout legs and a round, protruding belly. Its snout is elongated, resembling that of a horse, and its eyes carry an expression of gentle curiosity. Van Maerlant's artistic license likely stems from limited firsthand encounters with these massive mammals, resulting in a charmingly inaccurate yet endearing representation of the creature.
A Snail, Jacob van Maerlant, c. 1350
Ah, behold the medieval snail according to Jacob van Maerlant, circa 1350. This delightful critter sports an extravagantly armored shell, spiraling into a fashion statement that would be the envy of any mollusk. Sporting a neck more fitting of a greyhound than a gastropod, it's poised as if in mid-war cry, bearing teeth more suited to a wolf. This artistic gem tells us more about the illustrator's flair for dramatics than zoological accuracy. Van Maerlant's snail is less about biological precision and more a creature of fable, perhaps the escargot's answer to the noble steed, ready to charge into battle or perhaps just into a particularly leafy salad.
A Whale, Unknown Artist, 13th Century
Set sail for the high seas of the 13th century, and you might just glimpse this particularly emerald-hued 'whale', as conjured by an artist whose zoological guide was surely a book of myths. More akin to a playful puppy with fins than the mammoth cetaceans we're familiar with, this creature flaunts a scaly verdancy that would make any dragon envious. Its gaping maw seems less threatening and more surprised, as if it’s just heard the latest sea shanty gossip. With a duo of sailors nonchalantly navigating atop its back, this rendering is less an accurate portrayal and more a seafarer's tall tale come to life, a whimsical narrative where the whale plays the role of both beast and vessel.
Elephants, Unknown Artist, Late 13th Century
Late in the 13th century, an unknown artist tried his hand at capturing the grandeur of elephants but ended up with creatures that seem to have sauntered out of a surreal dream. These elephants, with torsos akin to that of boar-hounds and limbs as svelte as antelope's, wear expressions of equine refinement. Their ears, small and pert, are a far cry from the grand sails of today's elephants. This illustration does not so much whisper 'wildlife documentary' as it does 'fantasy novel'. Below, their kin are embroiled in what appears to be a tussle, their bodies adorned with what could either be a case of medieval chain-mail or an extreme case of wrinkles. The artist's imagination runs wild, providing us with a scene where knights could joust atop these noble, if anatomically imaginative, steeds.
A Leopard, Unknown Artist, 12th Century
In the 12th century, an artist embarked on a creative expedition to portray a leopard, but what emerged on parchment was a fantastical feline with a penchant for the dramatic. Cloaked in a dashing pelt of polka dots and sporting the muscular physique of a heavyweight champion, this leopard appears ready for the catwalk rather than the wild. Its tail flaunts a flair more common to a mythical fire-breathing dragon than a terrestrial predator. With a facial expression that suggests it's had one too many surprises, this leopard's artist may have been channeling more of a bewildered housecat than a stealthy hunter. The result is a charmingly eccentric patchwork of features, a testament to the artist's imagination – or perhaps a subtle nod to the belief that all cats possess an inner dragon.
A Crocodile, Unknown Artist, Late 13th Century
Take a gander at the 'crocodile' as visualized by a late 13th-century artist, who apparently subscribed to the 'more is more' school of thought. This creature, with a grin wide enough to swallow the Nile, appears more canine than reptilian, ready to bark at the slightest provocation. Its body, adorned with a coat of scales that would not be out of place on a pinecone, is supported by legs that seem to have been borrowed from a lion. Perched between riverbanks that look surprisingly unthreatened by its presence, this crocodile is less a menace and more a mascot for medieval mythical beasts, leaving the fish below visibly unconcerned by its toothy grin.
A Bear, Unknown Artist, c. 1305-1315
Around the turn of the 14th century, a bear was imagined by an artist who clearly fancied a touch of the theatrical in his wildlife illustrations. What we have here is less 'grizzled denizen of the forest' and more 'gentleman in ursine garb'. This bear, standing with a poise that suggests it’s about to engage in a polite debate rather than a ferocious brawl, features a luxuriously manicured coat and what could only be described as a scholar's manicure. Its face, with a curious mix of feline and canine traits, is topped with a pair of ears that seem to have been on loan from a much smaller cousin. Our noble knight, lance in hand, seems less in a fight for life and death, and more in an argument over who stole the last pot of honey. This depiction is a bear of legend, a creature that might recite poetry by the campfire rather than rummage through the bins.
An Oyster, Jacob van Maerlant, c. 1350
In Jacob van Maerlant's interpretation from around 1350, we have an oyster, though one might argue it's an oyster only by the loosest of definitions. With the demeanor of an aged philosopher and the plumage of a well-coiffed eagle, this bivalve seems to have aspirations far above its station. Van Maerlant has given it a sort of gravitas typically reserved for creatures of the air, not the seabed. Perhaps the most striking feature is its beak, curving with an air of superiority – an appendage one suspects could give eloquent speeches on the virtues of pearls. This artwork suggests less of a desire to accurately portray sea life and more of an attempt to imbue it with a noble character, perhaps the kind that would debate maritime law rather than filter plankton. It’s the kind of oyster that might have a portrait in a grand hallway, underneath which would be inscribed 'Philosopher of the Sea.'
Lions And Bears, Unknown Artist, Early 13th Century
In this early 13th-century whimsy, lions with solar flare manes and prehensile tails prance alongside bears who seem to be grinning mid-conversation, suggesting they're more interested in a civilized debate than a wild skirmish. This assembly resembles a renaissance fair more than a wild tableau, with each bear and lion appearing as though they've stepped out from a medieval tapestry to swap stories of courtly life and woodland escapades. The vibrant hues and expressive faces bestowed upon them by an unknown artist leave us in no doubt that we're witnessing a meeting of creatures from a fantastically reimagined realm.
A Panther Emerging From A Cave, Unknown Artist, 13th Century
In this 13th-century portrayal, a 'panther' emerges not with the sleek stealth of its real-world counterpart but with the pageantry of a creature stepping out for a masquerade ball. Cloaked in a patterned coat that seems to have been stitched from the night sky and daytime clouds, this panther bears a cheerful grin rather than a fearsome snarl. It is surrounded by a menagerie of beasts who look less like prey and more like an audience to the panther’s grand entrance from its cavernous abode. Each animal, from the stag with its labyrinthine antlers to the beastly chorus, bears a look of wonderment as if they're spectators at a nature-themed talent show. The scene is less a depiction of the wild and more a convivial gathering from a medieval fable, where every creature has a role to play in the storytelling.