The Ornithology of Shakespeare
by James Edmund Harting · English · Gutenberg #41860 · 471,927 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: The Ornithology of Shakespeare
Author: James Edmund Harting
Release date: January 17, 2013 [eBook #41860]
Language: English
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THE
ORNITHOLOGY
OF
SHAKESPEARE.
[Illustration: WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
From the Chandos Portrait]
THE
ORNITHOLOGY
OF
SHAKESPEARE.
CRITICALLY EXAMINED, EXPLAINED, AND ILLUSTRATED.
BY
JAMES EDMUND HARTING, F.L.S., F.Z.S.,
MEMBER OF THE BRITISH ORNITHOLOGISTS’ UNION,
AUTHOR OF “THE BIRDS OF MIDDLESEX,”
ETC., ETC.
[Illustration: Publisher's Logo]
LONDON:
JOHN VAN VOORST, PATERNOSTER ROW.
MDCCCLXXI.
LONDON:
PRINTED BY WOODFALL AND KINDER,
MILFORD LANE, STRAND, W.C.
PREFACE.
Of no other author, perhaps, has more been written than of Shakespeare.
Yet whatever other knowledge his commentators professed, few of them
appear to have been naturalists, and none, so far as I am aware, have
examined his knowledge of Ornithology.
An inquiry upon this subject, undertaken in the first instance for my
own amusement, has resulted in the bringing together of so much that is
curious and entertaining, that to the long list of books already
published about Shakespeare, I have been bold enough to add yet another.
In so doing, I venture to hope that the reader may so far appreciate the
result of my labour as not to consider it superfluous.
As regards the treatment of the subject, a word or two of explanation
seems necessary. In 1866, from the notes I had then collected, I
contributed a series of articles on the birds of Shakespeare to _The
Zoologist_. In these articles, I referred only to such birds as have a
claim to be considered British, and omitted all notice of domesticated
species. I had not then considered any special arrangement or grouping,
but noticed each species _seriatim_ in the order adopted by Mr. Yarrell
in his excellent “History of British Birds.” Since that date, I have
collected so much additional information on the subject, that, instead
of eighty pages (the extent of my first publication), three hundred have
now passed through the printers’ hands. With this large accession of
material, it was found absolutely necessary to re-arrange and re-write
the whole. The birds therefore have been now divided into certain
natural groups, including the foreign and domesticated species, to each
of which groups a chapter has been devoted; and I have thought it
desirable to give, by way of introduction, a sketch of Shakespeare’s
general knowledge of natural history and acquaintance with field-sports,
as bearing more or less directly on his special knowledge of
Ornithology, which I propose chiefly to consider.
After I had published the last of the series of articles referred to, I
received an intimation for the first time, that, twenty years
previously, a notice of the birds of Shakespeare had appeared in the
pages of _The Zoologist_. I lost no time in procuring the particular
number which contained the article, and found that, in December, 1846,
Mr. T. W. Barlow, of Holmes Chapel, Cheshire, had, to a certain extent,
directed attention to Shakespeare’s knowledge as an Ornithologist. His
communication, however, did not exceed half a dozen pages, in which
space he has mentioned barely one-fourth of the species to which
Shakespeare has referred. From the cursory nature of his remarks,
moreover, I failed to discover a reference to any point which I had not
already investigated. It would be unnecessary for me, therefore, to
allude to this article, except for the purpose of acknowledging that Mr.
Barlow was the first to enter upon what, as regards Shakespeare, may be
termed this new field of research.
The labour of collecting and arranging Shakespeare’s numerous allusions
to birds, has been much greater than many would suppose, for not only
have I derived little or no benefit from the various editions of his
works which I have consulted, but reference to a glossarial index, or
concordance, has, in nine cases out of ten, resulted in disappointment.
It is due to Mr. Staunton, however, to state that I have found some of
the foot-notes to his library edition of the Plays very useful.
Although oft-times difficult, it has been my endeavour, as far as
practicable, to connect one with another the various passages quoted or
referred to, so as to render the whole as readable and as entertaining
as possible. With this view, many allusions have been passed over as
being too trivial to deserve separate notice, but a reference to them
will be found in the Appendix at the end of the volume,[1] where all the
words quoted are arranged, for convenience, in the order in which they
occur in the plays and poems.
In spelling Shakespeare’s name, I have adopted the orthography of his
friends Ben Jonson and the editors of the first folio.[2]
As regards the illustrations, it seems desirable also to say a few
words.
In selecting for my frontispiece a portrait of Shakespeare as a falconer
(a character which I am confident could not have been foreign to him), I
have experienced considerable difficulty in making choice of a likeness.
Those who have made special inquiries into the authenticity of the
various portraits of Shakespeare, are not agreed in the results at which
they have arrived. This is to be attributed to the fact that, with the
exception of the Droeshout etching, to which I shall presently state my
objection, no likeness really exists of which a reliable history can be
given without one or more missing links in the chain of evidence.
There are four portraits which have all more or less claim to be
considered authentic. These are “the Jansen portrait,” 1610; “the
Stratford bust,” prior to 1623; “the Droeshout etching,” 1623; and “the
Chandos portrait,” of which the precise date is uncertain, but which
must have been painted some years prior to 1616, the year of
Shakespeare’s death.
It would be impossible, within the compass of this preface, to review
all that has been said for and against these four portraits. Neither
will space permit me to give the history of each in detail. I can only
briefly allude to the chief facts in connection with each, and state the
reasons which have influenced me in selecting the Chandos portrait.
Mr. Boaden, who was the first to examine into the authenticity of
reputed Shakespeare portraits,[3] has evinced a preference for the
so-called “Jansen portrait,” in the collection of the Duke of Somerset,
considering it to have been painted by Cornelius Jansen, in 1610, for
Lord Southampton, the great patron, at that date, of art and the drama.
The picture, indeed, bears upon the face of it an inscription--
Æ^te 46
1610
--which gives much weight to the views expressed by Mr. Boaden.
It is certain that, in the year mentioned, Jansen was in England, and
that he painted several pictures for Lord Southampton; it is equally
true, that at that date Shakespeare was in his forty-sixth year. But Mr.
Boaden fails to prove that this particular picture was painted by
Jansen, and that it was ever in the possession of Lord Southampton, or
painted by his order.
As a fine head, and a work of art, it is the one of all others that I
should like to think resembled Shakespeare, could its history be more
satisfactorily detailed.
Many regard as a genuine portrait, the Bust at Stratford-on-Avon, which
is stated to have been executed by Gerard Johnson, and “probably” under
the superintendence of Dr. John Hall. The precise date of its erection
is not known, but we gather that it was previous to 1623, from the fact
that Leonard Digges has referred to it in his Lines to the Memory of
Shakespeare, prefixed to the first folio edition of the Plays published
in that year. Mr. Wivell relies very strongly on the circumstance of its
having been originally coloured to nature.[4] Hence tradition informs us
that the eyes were hazel, the hair and beard auburn. It must be
admitted, however, that a portrait after death can never be so faithful
as a picture from the life, while no sculptor who examines this bust can
maintain that it was executed from a cast.[5]
Those who approve of the Droeshout etching, published in 1623, as a
frontispiece to the first folio, find a strong argument in favour of its
being a likeness in the commendatory lines by Ben Jonson, which
accompany it. Jonson knew Shakespeare well, and he says of this
picture:--
“This figure that thou here seest put,
It was for gentle Shakespeare cut;
Wherein the graver had a strife
With Nature to outdoo the life.
O, could he but have drawne his wit
As well in brasse as he hath hit
His face, the print would then surpasse
All that was ever writ in brasse;
But since he cannot, reader, looke
Not on his picture, but his booke.”
As a work of art it is by no means skilful, and is confessedly inferior
not only to other engravings of that day, but also to other portraits by
Martin Droeshout.
That it bore some likeness to Shakespeare _as an actor_, I do not doubt,
but that it resembled him as a private individual when off the stage, I
cannot bring myself to believe. The straight hair and shaven chin which
are not found in other portraits having good claims to be considered
authentic, and the unnaturally high forehead, which would be caused by
the actor’s wearing the wig of an old man partially bald, suggest at
once that when the original portrait was taken, from which Droeshout
engraved, Shakespeare was dressed as if about to sustain a part in which
he was thought to excel as an actor.
Boaden has conjectured that this portrait represents Shakespeare in the
character of old Knowell, in Ben Jonson’s _Every Man in his Humour_, a
part which he is known to have played in 1598, and this would easily
account for Ben Jonson’s commendation.[6] This conjecture is so
extremely probable, that I have no hesitation in endorsing it.
We come, then, now to “the Chandos portrait.” With the longest pedigree
of any, it possesses at least as much collateral evidence of
probability, and is, moreover, important as belonging to the nation.[7]
It has been traced back to the possession of Shakespeare’s godson,
William, afterwards Sir William, Davenant, and all that seems to be
wanting materially, is the artist’s name. The general opinion is, that
it was painted either by Burbage or Taylor, both of whom were
fellow-players of Shakespeare. It is styled the Chandos portrait from
having come to the trustees of the National Portrait Gallery from the
collection of the Duke of Chandos and Buckingham, through the Earl of
Ellesmere, by whom it was purchased and presented. The history of the
picture, so far as it can be ascertained, is as follows:--
It was originally the property of Taylor, the player (our poet’s
Hamlet), by whom, or by Richard Burbage, it was painted.[8]
Taylor dying about the year 1653, at the advanced age of seventy,[9]
left this picture by will to Davenant.[10] At the death of Davenant, who
died intestate in 1663, it was bought, probably at a sale of his
effects, by Betterton, the actor.
While in Betterton’s possession, it was engraved by Van der Gucht, for
Rowe’s edition of Shakespeare, in 1709. Betterton dying without a will
and in needy circumstances, his pictures were sold. Some were bought by
Bullfinch, the printseller, who sold them again to a Mr. Sykes. The
portrait of Shakespeare was purchased by Mrs. Barry, the actress, who
afterwards sold it for forty guineas to Mr. Robert Keck, of the Inner
Temple.
While in his possession, an engraving was made from it, in 1719, by
Vertue, and it then passed to Mr. Nicholls, of Southgate, Middlesex, who
acquired it on marrying the heiress of the Keck family.
The Marquis of Caernarvon, afterwards Duke of Chandos, marrying the
daughter of Mr. Nicholls, it then became his Grace’s property. When his
pictures were sold at Stowe, in September, 1848, this portrait was
purchased for three hundred and fifty-five guineas by the Earl of
Ellesmere, who, in March, 1856, presented it to the Trustees of the
National Portrait Gallery, in whose hands it still remains.
Notwithstanding this pedigree, the picture has been objected to on the
ground that the dark hair and foreign complexion could never have
belonged to our essentially English Shakespeare. Those who make this
objection, seem to forget entirely the age of the portrait, and the fact
that it is painted in oil and on canvas, a circumstance which of itself
is quite sufficient, after the lapse of two centuries and a half, to
account for the dark tone which now pervades it, to say nothing of the
numerous touches and retouches to which it has been subjected at the
hands of its various owners.
Notwithstanding the missing links of evidence, it seems to me that,
having traced the picture back to the possession of Shakespeare’s
godson, we have gone far enough to justify us in accepting it as an
authentic portrait in preference to many others. For we cannot suppose
that Sir William Davenant would retain in his possession until his death
a picture of one with whom he was personally acquainted, unless he
considered that it was sufficiently faithful as a likeness to remind him
of the original.
On the score of pedigree, then, and because I believe that the only
well-authenticated portrait (_i.e._, the Droeshout) represents
Shakespeare as an actor, and not as a private individual, I have
selected the Chandos portrait for my frontispiece.
By obtaining a reduced photograph of this _upon wood_, from the best
engraving, and “vignetting” it, I have been enabled to place upon the
left hand a hooded falcon, drawn by the unrivalled pencil of Mr. Wolf,
and thus to entrust to the engraver, Mr. Pearson, a faithful likeness of
man and bird.
As regards the other illustrations, my acknowledgments are due to Mr. J.
G. Keulemans for the artistic manner in which he has executed my
designs, and to Mr. Pearson for the careful way in which he has engraved
them.
With these observations, I conclude an undertaking which has occupied my
leisure hours for six years, but which indeed has been, in every sense
of the word, “a labour of love.”
Should the reader, on closing this volume, consider its design but
imperfectly executed, it is hoped that he will still have gleaned from
it enough curious information to compensate him for the
disappointment.
CONTENTS.
INTRODUCTION. PAGE
SHAKESPEARE’S GENERAL KNOWLEDGE OF NATURAL HISTORY.
His Love of Sport.--Hawking.--Fishing.--Hunting.--Fowling.--
Deer-Shooting.--Deer-Stealing.--“The Subtle Fox” and “Timorous
Hare.”--Coursing.--Coney-Catching.--Wild Animals mentioned by
Shakespeare.--His Knowledge of their Habits.--Insects referred to
in the Plays.--Shakespeare’s Powers of Observation.--Practical
Knowledge of Falconry.--Love of Birds. 1
CHAPTER I.
THE EAGLE AND LARGER BIRDS OF PREY.
An “Eagle Eye.”--Power of Flight.--A good Omen.--“The Bird of
Jove.”--The Roman Eagle.--The “Ensign” of the Eagle.--Habits and
Attitudes.--Eagles’ Eggs.--Longevity of the Eagle: its Age
computed.--The Eagle trained for Hawking.--The Vulture: its
Repulsive Habits.--The Osprey: its Power over Fish.--The Kite.--
The Kite’s Nest.--The Buzzard. 23
CHAPTER II.
HAWKS AND HAWKING.
Explanation of Hawking Terms.--The Falcon and Tiercel.--The
Qualities of a good Falconer.--The “Lure” and its Use.--The
“Quarry”--The Hawk’s “Trappings.”--Jesses, Bells, and Hood.--An
Unmann’d Hawk.--The Cadge--The Hawks Mew.--The Royal Mews.--Origin
of the word “Mews.”--Imping.--How to “Seel” a Hawk.--A Hawk for
the Bush.--Going “a-birding.”--The “Stanniel” or Kestrel.--Origin
of the Two Names.--The “Musket” or Sparrow-Hawk.--Hawk and
Hernshaw.--Prices of Hawks.--Hawk’s Furniture.--Hawk’s
Meat.--Falconer’s Wages.--Sundries. 49
CHAPTER III.
THE OWL AND ITS ASSOCIATIONS.
“The Bird of Juno.”--“The Favourite of Minerva.”--“The Bird of
Wisdom.”--Sacred to Proserpine.--Use in Medicine.--The Bird of
Ill-Omen.--Its Appearance by Day.--Its Habits misunderstood.--Its
Utility to the Farmer.--A Curious Tradition.--Its Note or Cry.--An
Owl Robbing Nests.--Evidence not conclusive.--Its Retiring
Habits.--Its “Five Wits.”--Its Fame in Song.--The Owl’s Good Night. 83
CHAPTER IV.
THE CROWS AND THEIR RELATIONS.
The Raven: a Bird of Ill Omen.--Its Supposed Prophetic Power.--Its
Deep and Solemn Voice.--The Raven’s Croak foreboding Death.--The
“Night-Raven” and “Night-Crow.”--The Raven’s Presence on
Battlefields.--Its alleged Desertion of its Young.--The Rook and
Crow.--The Crow-Keeper, and “Scare-Crow.”--The Chough.--Russet-pated
Choughs.--The Daw, Magpie, and Jay. 99
CHAPTER V.
THE BIRDS OF SONG.
The Nightingale.--“Lamenting Philomel.”--Singing against a
Thorn.--Erroneously supposed to Sing only by Night.--
“Recording.”--The Lark.--“The Herald of the Morn.”--Singing at
Heaven’s Gate.--Song of the Lark.--Soaring and Singing.--Changing
Eyes with Toad.--Lark-Catching.--The Common Bunting.--“The Throstle,
with his Note so True.”--Imitation of his Song.--The Ouzel-Cock.
--The Robin-Redbreast, or Ruddock.--Covering the Dead with Leaves.
--“Redbreast Teacher.”--“The Wren with Little Quill.”--Its Loud
Song.--The Sparrow.--“Philip Sparrow.”--Providence in the Fall of
a Sparrow.--The Hedge-Sparrow and Cuckoo.--“The Cuckoo’s Bird.”
--“Ungentle Gull.”--“The Plain Song Cuckoo Gray.”--The Song of
the Cuckoo.--Cuckoo Songs.--The Wagtail, or Dishwasher.--
Bird-catching.--Springes.--Gins.--Bat-fowling.--Its Two
Significations.--Bird-Lime, Bird-Bolts, and Birding-Pieces. 123
CHAPTER VI.
THE BIRDS UNDER DOMESTICATION.
Cock.--“Cock-Crow.”--“Cock-shut-time.”--“Cock-a-Hoop.”--“Cock and
Pye.”--Cock-Fighting.--Ancestry of the Domestic Cock.--The
Peacock.--Its Introduction into Europe, and Ancient Value.--In
Request for the Table.--The Turkey.--Date of Introduction into
England.--Shakespeare’s Anachronism.--Pigeons.--First used as
Letter-Carriers.--A Present of Pigeons.--Meaning of
“Pigeon-Liver’d.”--Pigeon-Post.--Mode of Feeding the Young.--The
Barbary Pigeon.--The Rock-Dove.--Doves and Dovecotes.--The “Doves
of Venus.”--“The Dove of Paphos.”--“As True as Turtle to her Mate:”
“as Plantage to the Moon.”--Mahomet’s Dove.--A Dish of Doves.--The
Goose.--“Green-Geese,” and “Stubble-Geese.”--“Cackling home to
Camelot.”--“The Wild-Goose Chase.”--The Swan.--“The Bird of
Apollo.”--Song of the Swan.--Habits of the Swan.--The Swan’s
Nest.--As Soft as Swan’s-down.--“Juno’s Swans.”--Cygnets. 167
CHAPTER VII.
THE GAME-BIRDS AND “QUARRY” FLOWN AT BY FALCONERS.
Sporting in Shakespeare’s Day.--The Pheasant.--Date of its
Introduction into Britain.--Ancient Value of Game.
--Game-Preserving.--Game-Laws.--Partridge-Hawking.--Anecdote
of Charles I.--Quails.--Quail-Fighting.--The Lapwing.--Feigning to
be Wounded.--Running as soon as Hatched.--The Heron, or
Hernshaw.--Heron-Hawking.--Hawk and Hernshaw--Heron at Table.--The
Woodcock.--Springes for Woodcocks.--How to Make a Springe.--A
Gin.--“The Woodcock’s Head.”--The Snipe. 209
CHAPTER VIII.
WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL.
“A Flight of Fowl.”--Habit of Wounded
Birds.--“Duck-Hunting.”--Swimming “like a Duck.”--Wild-fowling in
Shakespeare’s Day.--“The Stalking-Horse.”--“The Caliver.”--“The
Stale.”--Wild-Geese.--Sign of Hard Weather.--The Barnacle
Goose.--Barnacles.--Wild Fowl.--Divers and Grebes.--The
“Loon.”--The “Di-dapper.”--The Cormorant.--Its Voracity.--Fishing
with Cormorants.--The King’s Cormorants.--Their “Keep” at
Westminster.--Fishing at Thetford.--The Master of the
Cormorants.--Entries in State Papers.--The Home of the
Cormorant.--The Sea-side.--Shakespeare’s Sea-cliffs and
“Sea-mells.”--Gulls and Gull-Catchers. 235
CHAPTER IX.
BIRDS NOT INCLUDED IN THE FOREGOING CHAPTERS.
The Parrot “clamorous against Rain.”--Talking like a Parrot.--A
rare “Parrot-Teacher.”--The Popinjay.--The Starling.--Its Talking
Powers.--The Kingfisher.--Halcyon Days.--Flight of the
Kingfisher.--Estimated Speed.--The Swallow and “Martlet.”--The
Swallow’s Herb and Swallow’s Stone.--The “Ostridge.”--“Eating
Iron”--Bating with the Wind.--The Pelican.--Feeding its Young with
its Blood.--Explanation of the Fable.--Former Existence of a
Pelican in the English Fens.--Conclusion. 271
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
[THE HEAD AND TAIL PIECES FROM DESIGNS BY THE AUTHOR.]
PAGE
William Shakespeare, adapted from the Chandos Portrait
by J. Wolf, engraved by G. Pearson _Frontis._
Deer-Shooting, drawn by J. G. Keulemans, engraved by G. Pearson 1
Rabbit and Beagle „ „ 22
Goshawk and Hare „ „ 23
White-tailed Eagle in Trap „ „ 48
Falcon and Wild Duck „ „ 49
The Jesses „ „ 58
The Bells „ „ 60
The Hood „ „ 61
The Cadge „ „ 63
Imping „ „ 68
The Keeper’s Tree „ „ 82
Owl Mobbed by Small Birds „ „ 83
Long-eared Owl „ „ 98
Rooks and Magpies „ „ 99
Jay Stealing Eggs „ „ 122
Blackbird, Thrush, } „ „ 123
Nightingale, and Wren }
Bird-Trap „ „ 162
Birding-Piece of Prince Charles „ „ 165
Sparrow and Trap „ „ 166
Turkey, Peacock, and Pigeon „ „ 167
Dog and Wounded Duck „ „ 208
Pheasant and Partridges „ „ 209
A Springe for Woodcocks „ „ 229
Quails Fighting „ „ 234
Wild-Fowl Alighting „ „ 235
Caliver of the Sixteenth Century „ „ 242
The Barnacle Goose „ „ 247
The Barnacle Goose Tree. } „ „ 248
_From Aldrovandus_ }
The Barnacle Goose Tree. } „ „ 250
_From Gerard_ }
Barnacles. _From Nature._ „ „ 253
Black-headed Gull „ „ 270
Kingfisher and Swallows „ „ 271
Pelican and Young „ „ 298
[Illustration]
INTRODUCTION.
Before proceeding to examine the ornithology of Shakespeare, it may be
well to take a glance at his knowledge of natural history in general.
Pope has expressed the opinion that whatever object of nature or branch
of science Shakespeare either speaks of or describes, it is always with
competent if not with exclusive knowledge. His descriptions are always
exact, his metaphors appropriate, and remarkably drawn from the true
nature and inherent qualities of each subject. There can indeed be
little doubt that Shakespeare must have derived the greater portion of
his knowledge of nature from his own observation, and no one can fail to
be delighted with the variety and richness of the images which he has by
this means produced.
Whether we accompany him to the woods and fields, midst “daisies pied
and violets blue,” or sit with him “under the shade of melancholy
boughs,” whether we follow him to “the brook that brawls along the
wood,” or to that sea “whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege of
watery Neptune,” we are alike instructed by his observations, and
charmed with his apt descriptions. How often do the latter strike us as
echoes of our own experience, sent forth in fitter tones than we could
find.
A sportsman is oft-times more or less a naturalist. His rambles in
search of game bring him in contact with creatures of such curious
structure and habits, with insects and plants of such rare beauty, that
the purpose of his walk is for the time forgotten, and he turns aside
from sport, to admire and learn from nature.
That Shakespeare was both a sportsman and a naturalist, there is much
evidence to show. During the age in which he lived “hawking” was much in
vogue. Throughout the Plays, we find frequent allusions to this sport,
and the accurate employment of terms used exclusively in falconry, as
well as the beautiful metaphors derived therefrom, prove that our poet
had much practical knowledge on the subject. We shall have occasion
later to discuss his knowledge of falconry at greater length. It will
suffice for the present to observe that there are many passages in the
Plays which to one unacquainted with the habits of animals and birds, or
ignorant of hawking phraseology, would be wholly unintelligible, but
which are otherwise found to contain the most beautiful and forcible
metaphors. As instances of this may be cited that passage in _Othello_
(Act iii. Sc. 3), where the Moor compares his suspected wife to a
“haggard falcon,” and the hawking scene in Act ii. of the Second Part of
_King Henry VI._[11]
Shakespeare, although a contemplative man, appears to have found but
little “recreation” in fishing, and the most enthusiastic disciple of
Izaak Walton would find it difficult to illustrate a work on angling
with quotations from Shakespeare. He might refer us to _Twelfth Night_
(Act ii. Sc. 5), where Maria, on the appearance of Malvolio, exclaims,
“Here comes the _trout_ that must be caught with tickling;” and to the
song of Caliban in _The Tempest_ (Act ii. Sc. 2), “No more dams I’ll
make for fish.” Possibly, by straining a point or two, he might ask with
Benedick, in _Much Ado about Nothing_ (Act i. Sc. 1), “Do you play the
flouting Jack?”
But our poet seems to have considered--
“The pleasant’st angling is to see the fish
Cut with her golden oars the silver stream,
And greedily devour the treacherous bait.”
_Much Ado_, Act iii. Sc. 1.[12]
His forte lay more in hunting and fowling than in fishing,[13] and in
all that relates to deer-stalking (as practised in his day, when the
deer was killed with cross-bow or bow and arrow), to deer-hunting with
hounds, and to coursing, we find him fully informed.
In the less noble art of bird-catching[14] he was probably no mean
adept, while the knowledge which he displays of the habits of our wild
animals, as the fox, the badger, the weasel, and the wild cat, could
only have been acquired by one accustomed to much observation by flood
and field.
On each of these subjects a chapter might be written, but it will
suffice for our present purpose to draw attention only to some of the
more remarkable passages in support of the assertions above made.
Deer-shooting was a favourite sport of both sexes in Shakespeare’s day,
and to enable the ladies to enjoy it in safety, “stands,” or
“standings,” were erected in many parks, and concealed with boughs. From
these the ladies with bow and arrow, or cross-bow, shot at the deer as
they were driven past them by the keepers.
Queen Elizabeth was extremely fond of this sport, and the nobility who
entertained her in her different progresses, made large hunting parties,
which she usually joined when the weather was favourable. She frequently
amused herself in following the hounds. “Her Majesty,” says a courtier,
writing to Sir Robert Sidney, “is well and excellently disposed to
hunting, for every second day she is on horseback, and continues the
sport long.”[15] At this time Her Majesty had just entered the
seventy-seventh year of her age, and was then at her palace at Oatlands.
Often, when she was not disposed to hunt herself, she was entertained
with a sight of the sport. At Cowdray Park, Sussex, then the seat of
Lord Montagu (1591), Her Majesty one day after dinner saw “sixteen
bucks, all having fayre lawe, pulled downe with greyhounds in a laund or
lawn.”[16]
No wonder, then, that the ladies of England, with the royal example
before their eyes, found such delight in the chase during the age of
which we speak, and not content with being mere spectators, vied with
each other in the skilful use of the bow.
To this pastime Shakespeare has made frequent allusion.
In _Love’s Labour’s Lost_, the first scene of the fourth act is laid in
a park, where the Princess asks,--
“Then, forester,[17] my friend, where is the bush
That we must stand and play the murtherer in?”
To which the forester replies,--
“Hereby, upon the edge of yonder coppice;
A ‘stand’ where you may make the fairest shoot.”
And in _Henry VI._ Part III. Act iii. Sc. 1,--
“Under this thick-grown brake we’ll shroud ourselves;
For through this laund anon the deer will come;
And in this covert will we make our ‘stand,’
Culling the principal of all the deer.”
Again, in _Cymbeline_ (Act iii. Sc. 4), “When thou hast ta’en thy
‘stand,’ the elected deer before thee.” Other passages might be
mentioned, but it will be sufficient to refer only to _The Merry Wives
of Windsor_ (Act v. Sc. 5), and to the song in _As You Like It_ (Act iv.
Sc. 2), commencing “What shall he have that kill’d the deer?”
Deer-stealing in Shakespeare’s day was regarded only as a youthful
frolic. Antony Wood (“Athen. Oxon.” i. 371), speaking of Dr. John
Thornborough, who was admitted a member of Magdalen College, Oxford, in
1570, at the age of eighteen, and who was successively Bishop of
Limerick and Bishop of Bristol and Worcester, informs us, that he and
his kinsman, Robert Pinkney, “seldom studied or gave themselves to their
books, but spent their time in the fencing schools, and dancing schools,
in stealing deer and conies, in hunting the hare and wooing girls.”
Shakespeare himself has been accused of this indiscretion. The story is
first told in print by Rowe, in his “Life of Shakespeare”:--“He had, by
a misfortune common enough to young fellows, fallen into ill company,
and amongst them some that made a frequent practice of deer-stealing
engaged him more than once in robbing a park that belonged to Sir Thomas
Lucy of Charlecote, near Stratford. For this he was prosecuted by that
gentleman, as he thought somewhat too severely; and in order to revenge
that ill-usage, he made a ballad upon him. And though this, probably the
first essay of his poetry, be lost, yet it is said to have been so very
bitter, that it redoubled the prosecution against him to that degree,
that he was obliged to leave his business and family in Warwickshire,
for some time, and shelter himself in London.”
Mr. Staunton, in his library edition of Shakespeare’s Plays, says: “What
degree of authenticity the story possesses will never probably be known.
Rowe derived his version of it no doubt through Betterton; but Davies
makes no allusion to the source from which he drew his information, and
we are left to grope our way, so far as this important incident is
concerned, mainly by the light of collateral circumstances. These, it
must be admitted, serve in some respects to confirm the tradition.
Shakespeare certainly quitted Stratford-upon-Avon when a young man, and
it could have been no ordinary impulse which drove him to leave wife,
children, friends, and occupation, to take up his abode among strangers
in a distant place.
“Then there is the pasquinade, and the unmistakable identification of
Sir Thomas Lucy as Justice Shallow, in the Second Part of _Henry IV._,
and in the opening scene of _The Merry Wives of Windsor_. The
genuineness of the former may be doubted; but the ridicule in the Plays
betokens a latent hostility to the Lucy family, which is unaccountable,
except upon the supposition that the deerstealing foray is founded on
facts.”
The more legitimate sport in killing deer was by means of blood-hounds,
and in _The Midsummer Night’s Dream_ we are furnished with an accurate
description of the dogs in most repute:--
“My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind,
So flew’d, so sanded; and their heads are hung
With ears that sweep away the morning dew;
Crook-knee’d, and dew-lapp’d like Thessalian bulls;
Slow in pursuit, but match’d in mouth like bells,
Each under each. A cry more tuneable
Was never holla’d to, nor cheer’d with horn.”
Act iv. Sc. 1.
In the _Comedy of Errors_ (Act iv. Sc. 2), Dromio of Syracuse alludes to
“a hound that runs counter, and yet draws dry foot well,” and in the
_Taming of the Shrew_ we have the following animated dialogue:--
“_Lord_. Saw’st thou not, boy, how Silver made it good
At the hedge-corner, in the coldest fault?
I would not lose the dog for twenty pound.
_Huntsman_. Why, Belman is as good as he, my lord;
He cried upon it at the merest loss,
And twice to-day pick’d out the dullest scent:
Trust me, I take him for the better dog.”
Many more such instances might be adduced, but the reader might perhaps
be tempted to exclaim, with Timon of Athens:--
“Get thee away, and take thy beagles with thee.”
Act iv. Sc. 3.
We will therefore only glance at that amusing scene in the _Merry Wives
of Windsor_ (Act v. Sc. 5), where Falstaff appears in Windsor Forest,
disguised with a buck’s head on. “Divide me,” says he, “like a
brib’d-buck, each a haunch: I will keep my sides to myself, my shoulders
for the fellow of this walk, and my horns I bequeath your husbands.”
We have here an allusion to the ancient method of “breaking up” a
deer.[18] “The fellow of this walk” is the forester, to whom it was
customary on such occasions to present a shoulder. Dame Juliana Berners,
in her “Boke of St. Albans,” 1496, says,--
“And the right shoulder, wheresoever he be,
Bere it to the _foster_, for that is fee.”
And in Turbervile’s “Book of Hunting,” 1575, the distribution of the
various parts of a deer is minutely described.
The touching description of a wounded stag, in _As You Like It_, can
scarcely escape notice. Alluding to “the melancholy Jaques,” one of the
lords says,--
“To-day my lord of Amiens and myself
Did steal behind him, as he lay along
Under an oak, whose antique root peeps out
Upon the brook that brawls along this wood;
To the which place a poor sequestred stag,
That from the hunters’ aim had ta’en a hurt,
Did come to languish; and, indeed, my lord,
The wretched animal heav’d forth such groans,
That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat
Almost to bursting; and the big round tears
Cours’d one another down his innocent nose
In piteous chase; and thus the hairy fool,
Much marked of the melancholy Jaques,
Stood on th’ extremest verge of the swift brook,
Augmenting it with tears.”
Act ii. Sc. 1.
Although the deer, as the nobler animal, has received more attention
from our poet than the fox and the hare, yet the two last-named are by
no means forgotten:--
“The fox [who] barks not when he would steal the lamb”
(_Henry VI._ Part II. Act iii. Sc. 1);
who, when he “hath once got in his nose,” will “soon find means to make
the body follow” (_Henry VI._ Part III. Act iv. Sc. 7); and--
“Who ne’er so tame, so cherish’d and lock’d up,
Will have a wild trick of his ancestors”
(_Cymbeline_, Act v. Sc. 2);
receives his share of notice, although it is not always in his praise,
and “subtle as the fox” has become a proverb (_Cymbeline_, Act iii. Sc.
3).
From the “subtle fox” to the “timorous hare,” the transition is easy.
What “more a coward than a hare”? (_Twelfth Night_, Act iii. Sc. 5.)
In Roxburgh and Aberdeen, as we learn from Jamieson’s “Scottish
Dictionary,” a hare is termed “a bawd,” and the knowledge of this fact
enables us to understand the dialogue in _Romeo and Juliet_, which would
otherwise be unintelligible:--
“_Mercutio._ A bawd, a bawd, a bawd! So ho!
_Romeo._ What hast thou found?
_Mercutio._ No hare, sir.”
Act ii. Sc. 4.
That coursing was in vogue in Shakespeare’s day, and practised in the
same way as at present, we may infer from such expressions as “a good
hare-finder” (_Much Ado_, Act i. Sc. 1), “Holla me like a hare”
(_Coriolanus_, Act i. Sc. 8), and “I see you stand like greyhounds in
the slips, straining upon the start” (_Henry V._ Act iii. Sc. 1).
Rabbits were taken, and no doubt poached, in the same way then as now;
for we read of the coney[19] “that you see dwell where she is kindled”
(_As You Like It_, Act iii. Sc. 2) struggling “in the net.” (_Henry VI._
Part III. Act i. Sc. 4.)
The Brock[20] or Badger (_Twelfth Night_, Act ii. Sc. 5); the Wild Cat
who “sleeps by day” (_Merch. of Venice_, Act ii. Sc. 5, and _Pericles_,
Act iii. Intro.); “the quarrelous Weasel” (_Cymbeline_, Act iii. Sc. 4,
and _Henry IV._ Part I. Act ii. Sc. 3); “the Dormouse of little valour”
(_Twelfth Night_, Act iii. Sc. 1); “the joiner Squirrel” (_Romeo and
Juliet_, Act i. Sc. 4), whose habit of hoarding appears to have been
well known to Shakespeare (_Midsummer Night’s Dream_, Act iv. Sc. 2);
and “the blind Mole,” who “casts copp’d hills towards heaven”
(_Pericles_, Act i. Sc. 1);[21]--all these are mentioned in their turn,
while the Bat “with leathern wing,”[22] “the venom Toad,” “the thorny
Hedgehog,”[23] “the Adder blue,” and the “spotted Snake with double
tongue,” are all called in most aptly by way of simile or metaphor.
We cannot forget Titania’s directions to her fairies in regard to
Bats:--
“Some war with _rear mice_[24] for their leathern wings,
To make my small elves coats”
(_Midsummer Night’s Dream_, Act ii. Sc. 2);
nor the comfortable seat which Ariel appears to have found “on the bat’s
back” (_Tempest_, Act v. Sc. 1).
The following striking passage must also be familiar to readers of
Shakespeare:--
“Ere the bat hath flown
His cloister’d flight; ere, to black Hecate’s summons,
The shard-borne beetle, with his drowsy hums,
Hath rung night’s yawning peal,
There shall be done a deed of dreadful note.”
_Macbeth_, Act iii. Sc. 2.
In a printed broadside of the time of Queen Anne, in the collection of
the Society of Antiquaries of London, is the following curious fable
relating to the Bat:--
“615. THE BIRDS AND BEASTS. A Fable.
“Once the Birds and Beasts strove for the prerogative: the neuter
Batt, seeing the Beasts prevail, goes to them and shows them her
large forehead, long ears, and teeth: afterwards, when the Birds
prevail’d, the Batt flies with the Birds, and sings chit, chit,
chat, and shows them her wings.
“Hence Beakless Bird, hence Winged Beast, they cry’d;
Hence plumeless wings; thus scorn her either side.
“LONDON. PRINTED FOR EDW. LEWIS,
FLOWER-DE-LUCE COURT, FLEET STREET. 1710.”
In alluding to the “venom toad” as “mark’d by the destinies to be
avoided,” Shakespeare probably only treated it as other writers had done
before him, and, without any personal investigation of the matter,
ranked it with the viper and other poisonous reptiles, when in fact it
is perfectly harmless.
The habit which the snake has, in common with other reptiles, of
periodically casting its skin or slough, is frequently alluded to in the
Plays, where that covering is sometimes called “the enamell’d skin”
(_Midsummer Night’s Dream_, Act ii. Sc. 1); at other times the “casted
slough” (_Henry V._ Act iv. Sc. 1, and _Twelfth Night_, Act iii. Sc. 4);
and the “shining checker’d slough” (_Henry VI._ Part II. Act iii. Sc.
1).
It is difficult to say why the Adder is supposed to be deaf, unless
because it has no visible ears--but then the term would apply to other
reptiles. Shakespeare has several times alluded to this. In the Second
Part of _King Henry VI._ Act iii. Sc. 2, Queen Margaret asks the King,--
“What, art thou, like the adder, waxen deaf?”
And in _Troilus and Cressida_, Act ii. Sc. 2, Hector says to Paris and
Troilus,--
“Pleasure and revenge
Have ears more deaf than adders to the voice
Of any true decision.”
Again, in Sonnet CXII., “the adder’s sense” is referred to in such a way
as to leave no doubt of the poet’s impression that adders do not hear.
“_Caliban._ Sometime am I
All wound with adders, who, with cloven tongues
Do hiss me into madness.”
_Tempest_, Act ii. Sc. 2.
The “eyeless venom’d worm” referred to in _Timon of Athens_, Act iv. Sc.
3, is of course the Slow-worm (_Anguis fragilis_).
The observant naturalist must doubtless have remarked the partiality
evinced by snakes and other reptiles for basking in the sun. Shakespeare
has noticed that--
“The snake lies rolled in the cheerful sun.”
_Titus Andronicus_, Act ii. Sc. 3.
And--
“It is the bright day that brings forth the adder;
And that craves wary walking.”
_Julius Cæsar_, Act ii. Sc. 1.
In _Macbeth_, Act iii. Sc. 2, allusion is made to the wonderful vitality
which snakes possess, and to the popular notion that they are enabled,
when cut in two, to reunite the dissevered portions and recover:--
“We have scotch’d the snake, not kill’d it;
She’ll close and be herself.”
Passing to the insect world, we may well be astonished at the number of
species to which Shakespeare has alluded. Although the same attention
has not been given to the insects as to the birds, the following have,
nevertheless, been noted. Many others, doubtless, have been overlooked.
The Beetle (_Macbeth_, Act iii. Sc. 2; _King Lear_, Act iv. Sc. 6;
_Measure for Measure_, Act iii. Sc. 1). The Grasshopper (_Romeo and
Juliet_, Act i. Sc. 4). The Cricket, (_Pericles_, Act iii. Introduction;
_Winter’s Tale_, Act ii. Sc. 1; _Romeo and Juliet_, Act i. Sc. 4;
_Cymbeline_, Act ii. Sc. 2). The Glowworm (_Hamlet_, Act i. Sc. 5); and
the Caterpillar (_Richard II._ Act ii. Sc. 4; _Henry VI._ Part II. Act
iii. Sc. 1; _Twelfth Night_, Act ii. Sc. 1; _Romeo and Juliet_, Act i.
Sc. 1). The Butterfly (_Troilus and Cressida_, Act iii. Sc. 3;
_Midsummer Night’s Dream_, Act iii. Sc. 1); and Moth (_Merchant of
Venice_, Act ii. Sc. 9; _King John_, Act iv. Sc. 1). The House-fly
(_Titus Andronicus_, Act iii. Sc. 2). The small Gilded-fly (_King Lear_,
Act iv. Sc. 6). The Blow-fly (_Love’s Labour’s Lost_, Act v. Sc. 2;
_Tempest_, Act iii. Sc. 1); and the Gad-fly, or Brize (_Troilus and
Cressida_, Act i. Sc. 3). The Grey-coated Gnat (_Romeo and Juliet_, Act
i. Sc. 4; _Comedy of Errors_, Act ii. Sc. 2); the Wasp (_Taming of the
Shrew_, Act ii. Sc. 1; _Two Gentlemen of Verona_, Act i. Sc. 2; _Henry
VIII._ Act iii. Sc. 2); the Drone (_Henry V._ Act i. Sc. 2); and the
Honey-bee (numerous passages).
To three only of these shall we direct further attention: firstly,
because a more extended notice of all would be beyond the limits of the
present work; and, secondly, because the Entomology of Shakespeare has
been already dealt with elsewhere.[25]
These three are the Bee, the Drone, and the Fly, and we select
quotations in reference to these in order to illustrate Shakespeare’s
knowledge of the subject on which he wrote; the lessons to be learnt
from his allusions; and the sympathy which he has manifested for all
living creatures.
What better picture of the interior of a hive can be found than the
following? How well are the duties of the inmates described!
“For so work the honey bees,
Creatures that, by a rule in nature, teach
The act of order to a peopled kingdom.
They have a king, and officers of sorts:
Where some, like magistrates, correct at home;
Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad;
Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings,
Make boot upon the summer’s velvet buds;
Which pillage they with merry march bring home
To the tent-royal of their emperor;
Who, busied in his majesty, surveys
The singing masons building roofs of gold,
The civil citizens kneading-up the honey;
The poor mechanic porters crowding in
Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate;
The sad-ey’d justice, with his surly hum,
Delivering o’er to executors pale
The lazy yawning drone. I this infer,--
That many things, having full reference
To one consent, may work contrariously;
As many arrows, loosed several ways,
Come to one mark; as many ways meet in one town;
As many fresh streams meet in one salt sea;
As many lines close in the dial’s centre;
So may a thousand actions, once afoot,
End in one purpose, and be all well borne
Without defeat.”
_Henry V._ Act i. Sc. 2.
“The lazy yawning drone” is frequently alluded to as the type of
idleness and inactivity (_Pericles_, Act ii. Sc. 1; _Henry VI._ Part II.
Act iii. Sc. 2).
And we are counselled--
“Not to eat honey, like a drone,
From others’ labours.”
_Pericles_, Act i. Sc. 4.
Who does not remember the scene in which Titus Andronicus reproves his
brother Marcus for killing a fly at dinner?--
“_Marcus._ Alas, my lord, I have but kill’d a fly.
_Titus._ But how if that fly had a father and mother?
How would he hang his slender gilded wings,
And buzz lamenting doings in the air!
Poor harmless fly!
That, with his pretty buzzing melody,
Came here to make us merry! and thou hast kill’d him.”
_Titus Andronicus_, Act iii. Sc. 2.
This is but one of the many lessons taught us by Shakespeare in his
allusions to the animal world, and the kindly spirit which characterizes
all his dealings with animals is frequently exemplified throughout the
Plays; perhaps nowhere so clearly as in _Measure for Measure_, Act iii.
Sc. 1, where we are told--
“The sense of death is most in apprehension;
And the poor beetle that we tread upon,
In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great
As when a giant dies.”
Probably enough has been said to show the reader that Shakespeare’s
knowledge of natural history was by no means slight, and if it be
thought to have been only general, it was, at all events, accurate. The
use which he has made of this knowledge, throughout his works, in
depicting virtue and vice in their true colours, in pointing out lessons
of industry, patience, and mercy, and in showing the profit to be
derived from a study of natural objects, is everywhere apparent.
The words of the banished Duke, in _As You Like It_ (Act ii. Sc. 1),
seem to no one so applicable as to Shakespeare himself. He--
“Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in everything.”
But to come to the Ornithology. The accurate observations on this
subject, the apt allusions, and the beautiful metaphors to be met with
throughout the Plays, may be said to owe their origin mainly to three
causes. Firstly, Shakespeare had a good practical knowledge of Falconry,
a pastime which, being much in vogue in his day, brought under his
notice, almost of necessity, many wild birds, exclusive of the various
species which were hawked at and killed. Secondly, he was a great
reader, and, possessing a good memory, was enabled subsequently to
express in verse ideas which had been suggested by older authors.
Thirdly, and most important of all, he was a genuine naturalist, and
gathered a large amount of information from his own practical
observations. In all his walks, he evidently did not fail to note even
the most trivial facts in natural history, and these were treasured up
in his memory, to be called forth as occasion required, to be aptly and
eloquently introduced into his works.
Apart from the consideration that a poet may be expected, almost of
necessity, to invoke the birds of song, Shakespeare has gone further,
and displays a greater knowledge of ornithology, and a greater accuracy
in his statements, than is generally the case with poets. How far we
shall succeed in proving this assertion, it will be for the reader of
the following pages to determine.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
CHAPTER I.
THE EAGLE AND THE LARGER BIRDS OF PREY.
At the head of the diurnal birds of prey, most authors have agreed in
placing the Eagles. Their large size, powerful flight, and great
muscular strength, give them a superiority which is universally
admitted. In reviewing, therefore, the birds of which Shakespeare has
made mention, no apology seems to be necessary for commencing with the
genus _Aquila_.
Throughout the works of our great dramatist, frequent allusions may be
found to an eagle, but the word “eagle” is almost always employed in a
generic sense, and in a few instances only can we infer, from the
context, that a particular species is indicated. Indeed, it is not
improbable that in the poet’s opinion only one species of eagle existed.
Be this as it may, the introduction of an eagle and his attributes, by
way of simile or metaphor, has been accomplished by Shakespeare with
much beauty and effect. Considered as the emblem of majesty, the eagle
has been variously styled “the king of birds,” “the royal bird,” “the
princely eagle,” and “Jove’s bird,” while so great is his power of
vision, that an “eagle eye” has become proverbial.
[Sidenote: POWER OF VISION.]
“Behold, his eye,
As bright as is the eagle’s, lightens forth
Controlling majesty.”
_Richard II._ Act iii. Sc. 3.
The clearness of vision in birds is indeed extraordinary, and has been
calculated, by the eminent French naturalist Lacépède, to be nine times
more extensive than that of the farthest-sighted man. The opinion that
the eagle possessed the power of gazing undazzled at the sun, is of
great antiquity. Pliny relates that it exposes its brood to this test as
soon as hatched, to prove if they be genuine or not. Chaucer refers to
the belief in his “Assemblie of Foules”:--
“There mighten men the royal egal find,
That with his sharp look persith the sonne.”
So also Spenser, in his “Hymn of Heavenly Beauty,”--
“And like the native brood of eagle’s kind,
On that bright sun of glory fix their eyes.”
[Sidenote: AN EAGLE EYE.]
It is not surprising, therefore, that Shakespeare has borrowed the
idea:--
“Nay, if thou be that princely eagle’s bird,
Show thy descent by gazing ’gainst the sun.”
_Henry VI._ Part III. Act ii. Sc. 1.
Again--
“What peremptory eagle-sighted eye
Dares look upon the heaven of her brow,
That is not blinded by her majesty?”
_Love’s Labour’s Lost_, Act iv. Sc. 3.
But in the same play and scene we are told--
“A lover’s eyes will gaze an eagle blind.”
And in this respect Paris was said to excel:--
“An _eagle_, madam,
Hath not so green, so quick, so fair an eye,
As Paris hath.”
_Romeo and Juliet_, Act iii. Sc. 5.
The supposition that the eye of the eagle is green must be regarded as a
poetic license. In all the species of this genus with which we are
acquainted, the colour of the iris is either hazel or yellow. But it
would be absurd to look for exactness in trifles such as these.
[Sidenote: POWER OF FLIGHT.]
The power of flight in the eagle is no less surprising than his power of
vision. Birds of this kind have been killed which measured seven or
eight feet from tip to tip of wing, and were strong enough to carry off
hares, lambs, and even young children. This strength of wing is not
unnoticed by Shakespeare:--
“This was but as a fly by an eagle.”
_Antony and Cleopatra_, Act ii. Sc. 2.
And--
“An eagle flight, bold, and forth on,
Leaving no track behind.”
_Timon of Athens_, Act i. Sc. 1.
This last line recalls to mind the following allusion to the flight of
the Jerfalcon:--“Then prone she dashes with so much velocity, that the
impression of her path remains on the eye, in the same manner as that of
the shooting meteor or flashing lightning, and you fancy that there is a
torrent of falcon rushing for fathoms through the air.”[26]
Spenser, in the fifth book of his “Faerie Queene” (iv. 42), has depicted
the grandeur of an eagle on the wing:--
“Like to an eagle in his kingly pride
Soring thro’ his wide empire of the aire
To weather his brode sailes.”
But notwithstanding his great powers of flight, we are reminded that the
eagle is not always secure. Guns, traps, and other engines of
destruction are directed against him, whenever and wheresoever
opportunity occurs:--
“And often, to our comfort, shall we find
The sharded beetle in a safer hold
Than is the full-wing’d eagle.”
_Cymbeline_, Act iii. Sc. 3.
[Sidenote: A GOOD OMEN.]
With the Romans, the eagle was a bird of good omen. Josephus, the Jewish
historian, says the eagle was selected for the Roman legionary standard,
because he is the king of all birds, and the most powerful of them all,
whence he has become the emblem of empire, and the omen of victory.[27]
Accordingly, we read in _Julius Cæsar_, Act v. Sc. 1:--
“Coming from Sardis, on our former ensign
Two mighty eagles fell; and there they perch’d,
Gorging and feeding from our soldiers’ hands.”
This incident is more fully detailed in North’s “Plutarch,” as
follows:--“When they raised their campe, there came two eagles, that
flying with a marvellous force, lighted upon two of the foremost
ensigns, and alwaies followed the souldiers, which gave them meate and
fed them, untill they came neare to the citie of Phillipes; and there
one day onely before the battell, they both flew away.”
The ensign of the eagle was not peculiar, however, to the Romans. The
golden eagle, with extended wings, was borne by the Persian
monarchs,[28] and it is not improbable that from them the Romans
adopted it; while the Persians themselves may have borrowed the symbol
from the ancient Assyrians, on whose banners it waved until Babylon was
conquered by Cyrus.
As a bird of good omen, the eagle is often mentioned by Shakespeare:--
“I chose an eagle, and did avoid a puttock.”
_Cymbeline_, Act i. Sc. 2.
The name “Puttock” has been applied both to the Kite and the Common
Buzzard, and both were considered birds of ill omen.
[Sidenote: THE BIRD OF JOVE.]
In Act iv. Sc. 2, of the same play, we read,--
“I saw Jove’s bird, the Roman eagle, wing’d
From the spungy south to this part of the west,
There vanish’d in the sunbeams.”
This was said to portend success to the Roman host. In Izaak Walton’s
“Compleat Angler,” we are furnished with a reason for styling the eagle
“Jove’s bird.” The falconer, in discoursing on the merits of his
recreation with a brother angler, says,--“In the air my troops of hawks
soar upon high, and when they are lost in the sight of men, then they
attend upon and converse with the gods; therefore I think my eagle is so
justly styled Jove’s servant in ordinary.”
“For the Roman eagle,
From south to west on wing soaring aloft,
Lessen’d herself, and in the beams o’ the sun
So vanish’d: which foreshadow’d our princely eagle,
The imperial Cæsar, should again unite
His favour with the radiant Cymbeline,
Which shines here in the west.”
_Cymbeline_, Act v. Sc. 5.
[Sidenote: THE ROMAN EAGLE.]
In a paper “On the Roman Imperial and Crested Eagles,”[29] Mr. Hogg
says,--“The Roman Eagle, which is generally termed the Imperial Eagle,
is represented with its head _plain_, that is to say, _not crested_. It
is in appearance the same as the attendant bird of the ‘king of gods and
men,’ and is generally represented as standing at the foot of his
throne, or sometimes as the bearer of his thunder and lightning. Indeed
he also often appears perched on the top of his sceptre. He is always
considered as the attribute or emblem of ‘Father Jove.’”
A good copy of this bird of Jupiter, called by Virgil and Ovid “Jovis
armiger,” from an antique group, representing the eagle and Ganymedes,
may be seen in Bell’s “Pantheon,” vol. i. Also “a small bronze eagle,
the ensign of a Roman legion,” is given in Duppa’s “Travels in Sicily”
(2nd ed., 1829, tab. iv.). That traveller states, that the original
bronze figure is preserved in the Museum of the Convent of St. Nicholas
d’Arcun, at Catania. This Convent is now called Convento di S.
Benedetto, according to Mr. G. Dennis, in his “Handbook of Sicily,” (p.
349); and he mentions this ensign as “a Roman legionary eagle in
excellent preservation.”
[Sidenote: THE ENSIGN OF THE EAGLE.]
From the second century before Christ, the eagle is said to have become
the sole military ensign, and it was mostly small in size, because
Florus (lib. 4, cap. 12) relates that an ensign-bearer, in the wars of
Julius Cæsar, in order to prevent the enemy from taking it, pulled off
the eagle from the top of the gilt pole, and hid it by placing it under
cover of his belt.
In later times, the eagle was borne with the legion, which, indeed,
occasionally took its name, “_aquila_.” This eagle, which was also
adopted by the Roman emperors for their imperial symbol, is considered
to be the _Aquila heliaca_ of Savigny (_imperialis_ of Temminck), and
resembles our golden eagle, _Aquila chrysaëtos_, in plumage, though of a
darker brown, and with more or less white on the scapulars. It differs
also in the structure of the foot. It inhabits Southern Europe, North
Africa, Palestine, and India. Living examples of this species may be
seen at the present time in the Gardens of the Zoological Society.
[Sidenote: HABITS AND ATTITUDES.]
Sicilius, in _Cymbeline_ (Act v. Sc. 4), speaking of the apparition and
descent of Jupiter, who was seated upon an eagle, says,--
“The holy eagle
Stoop’d, as to foot us: his ascension is
More sweet than our blest fields: his royal bird
Prunes the immortal wing, and cloys his beak,
As when his god is pleas’d.”
“_Prune_” signifies to clean and adjust the feathers, and is synonymous
with _plume_. A word more generally used, perhaps, than either, is
_preen_.
_Cloys_ is, doubtless, a misprint for _cleys_, that is, _claws_. Those
who have kept hawks must often have observed the habit which they have
of raising one foot, and whetting the beak against it. This is the
action to which Shakespeare refers. The same word occurs in Ben Jonson’s
“Underwoods,” (vii. 29) thus:--
“To save her from the seize
Of vulture death, and those relentless _cleys_.”
The verb “to cloy” has a very different signification, namely, “to
satiate,” “choke,” or “clog up.” Shakespeare makes frequent use of it.
In “Lucrece” it occurs:--
“But poorly rich, so wanteth in his store,
That, _cloy’d_ with much, he pineth still for more.”
And again, in _Richard II._ (Act i. Sc. 3):--
“O, who can hold a fire in his hand,
By thinking on the frosty Caucasus?
Or _cloy_ the hungry edge of appetite,
By bare imagination of a feast?”
See also _Henry V._ Act ii. Sc. 2.
Sometimes the word was written “accloy;” as, for instance, in Spenser’s
“Faerie Queene” (ii. 7)--
“And with uncomely weeds the gentle wave _accloyes_.”
And in the same author’s “Shepheard’s Calendar” (February, 135)--
“The mouldie mosse which thee _accloyeth_.”
It is clear, therefore, that the word occurring in the fourth scene of
the fifth act of _Cymbeline_, should be written _cleys_, and not
_cloys_.
[Sidenote: EAGLE’S EGGS.]
But to return from this digression; there is a passage in the first act
of _Henry V._ Sc. 2, which seems to deserve some notice while on the
subject of eagles, _i.e._:--
“For once the eagle England being in prey,
To her unguarded nest the weasel Scot
Comes sneaking, and so sucks her princely eggs.”
That the weasel sucks eggs, and is partial to such fare, is very
generally admitted. Shakespeare alludes to the fact again in _As You
Like It_ (Act ii. Sc. 5), where Jaques says:--“I can suck melancholy out
of a song, as a weasel sucks eggs.” But whether the weasel has ever been
found in the same situation or at such an altitude as the eagle, is not
so certain. A near relative of the weasel, however, namely, a
marten-cat, was once found in an eagle’s nest. “The forester, having
reason to think that the bird was sitting hard, peeped over the cliff
into the eyrie. To his amazement, a marten was suckling her kittens in
comfortable enjoyment.”[30]
The allusion above made to the “princely eggs,” reminds us of the
princely bird which laid them, and those who have read the works of
Shakespeare--and who has not?--must doubtless remember the beautiful
simile uttered by Warwick when dying on the field of Barnet:--
“Thus yields the cedar to the axe’s edge,
Whose arms gave shelter to the _princely_ eagle.”
_Henry VI._ Part III. Act v. Sc. 2.
The conscious superiority of the eagle is depicted by Tamora, who tells
us:--
“The eagle suffers little birds to sing,
And is not careful what they mean thereby,
Knowing that with the shadow of his wing
He can at pleasure stint their melody.”
_Titus Andronicus_, Act iv. Sc. 4.
[Sidenote: LONGEVITY OF THE EAGLE.]
The great age to which this bird sometimes attains has been remarked by
most writers on Ornithology. The Psalmist has beautifully alluded to it
where he says of the righteous man,--“His youth shall be renewed like
the eagle’s.” A golden eagle, which had been nine years in the
possession of Mr. Owen Holland, of Conway, lived thirty-two years with
the gentleman who made him a present of it, but what its age was when
the latter received it from Ireland is unknown.[31] Another, that died
at Vienna, was stated to have lived in confinement one hundred and four
years.[32] A white-tailed eagle captured in Caithness, died at Duff
House in February, 1862, having been kept in confinement, by the late
Earl of Fife, for thirty-two years. But even the eagle may be outlived.
Apemantus asks of Timon:--
“Will these moss’d trees,
That have outliv’d the eagle, page thy heels,
And skip when thou point’st out?”
_Timon of Athens_, Act iv. Sc. 3.
The old text has “moyst trees.” The emendation, however, which was made
by Hanmer, is strengthened by the line in _As You Like It_ (Act iv.
Sc. 3):--
“Under an oak, whose boughs were _moss’d_ with age.”
In an old French “riddle-book,” entitled “Demands Joyous,” which was
printed in English by Wynkyn de Worde in 1511 (a single copy only of
which is said to be extant), is the following curious “demande” and
“response.” It is here transcribed, as bearing upon the subject of the
age of an eagle:--
“_Dem._ What is the age of a field-mouse?
_Res._ A year. And the life of a hedge-hog is three times that of a
mouse; and the life of a dog is three times that of a hedge-hog; and
the life of a horse is three times that of a dog; and the life of a
man is three times that of a horse; and the life of a goose is three
times that of a man; and the life of a swan is three times that of a
goose; and the life of a swallow is three times that of a swan; _and
the life of an eagle is three times that of a swallow_; and the life
of a serpent is three times that of an eagle; and the life of a
raven is three times that of a serpent; and the life of a hart is
three times that of a raven; and an oak groweth 500 years, and
fadeth 500 years.”
[Sidenote: ITS AGE COMPUTED.]
The Rev. W. B. Daniel alludes[33] to “the received maxim that animals
live seven times the number of years that bring them to perfection,”
upon which computation the average life of an eagle would be twenty-one
years. But this maxim is founded on a misconception. Fleurens, in his
treatise “De la Longévité Humaine,” says that the duration of life in
any animal is equal to five times the number of years requisite to
perfect its growth, and that the growth has ceased when the bones have
finally consolidated with their _epiphyses_, which in the young are
merely cartilages.
Like many other rapacious birds, eagles are very fond of bathing, and it
has been found essential to supply them with baths when in confinement,
in order to keep them in good health. The freshness and vigour which
they thus derive is alluded to in _Henry IV._ (Part I. Act iv. Sc. 1):--
“_Hotspur._ Where is his son,
The nimble-footed mad-cap Prince of Wales,
And his comrades?...
_Vernon._ All furnish’d, all in arms; ...
Like eagles having lately bath’d.”
The larger birds of prey are no less fond of washing, though they care
so little for water to drink, that it has been erroneously asserted that
they never drink. “What I observed,” says the Abbé Spallanzani,[34] “is,
that eagles, when left even for several months without water, did not
seem to suffer the smallest inconvenience from the want of it, but when
they were supplied with water, they not only got into the vessel and
sprinkled their feathers like other birds, but repeatedly dipped the
beak, then raised the head, in the manner of common fowls, and swallowed
what they had taken up. Hence it is evident that they drink.”
[Sidenote: EAGLES TRAINED FOR HAWKING.]
In Persia, Tartary, India, and other parts of the East, the eagle was
formerly, and is still to a certain extent, used for hunting down the
larger birds and beasts. In the thirteenth century, the Khan of Tartary
kept upwards of two hundred hawks and eagles, some of which had been
trained to catch wolves; and such was the boldness and power of these
birds, that none, however large, could escape from their talons.[35]
Burton, in his “Anatomy of Melancholy,”[36] quoting from Sir Antony
Shirley’s “Travels,” says: “The Muscovian Emperours reclaim eagles, to
let fly at hindes, foxes, &c., and such a one was sent for a present to
Queen Elizabeth.”
A traveller to the Putrid Sea, in 1819, wrote: “Wolves are very common
on these steppes; and they are so bold that they sometimes attack
travellers. We passed by a large one, lying on the ground with an eagle,
which had probably attacked him, by his side. Its talons were nearly
buried in his back; in the struggle both had died.”[37]
[Sidenote: TIRING.]
Owing to the great difficulty in training them, as well as to the
difficulty in obtaining them, eagles have rarely been trained to the
chase in England. Some years since, Captain Green, of Buckden, in
Huntingdonshire, had a fine golden eagle, which he had taught to take
hares and rabbits;[38] and this species has been found to be more
tractable than any other.
Whether Shakespeare was aware of the use of trained eagles or not, we
cannot say, but he has in many cases employed hawking terms in
connection with this bird:--
“That hateful duke,
Whose haughty spirit, winged with desire,
Will cost my crown, and, like an empty eagle,
_Tire_ on the flesh of me and of my son!”
_Henry VI._ Part III. Act i. Sc. 1.
The meaning of the word _tire_ is thus explained by falconers. When a
hawk was in training, it was often necessary to prolong her meal as much
as possible, to prevent her from gorging; this was effected by giving
her a tough or bony bit to _tire on_; that is, to tear, or pull at.
“Even as an empty eagle, sharp by fast,
_Tires_ with her beak on feathers, flesh, and bone,
Shaking her wings, devouring all in haste,
Till either gorge be stuff’d, or prey be gone.”
_Venus and Adonis._
So also, in _Timon of Athens_ (Act iii. Sc. 6), one of the lords says:--
“Upon that were my thoughts _tiring_ when we encounter’d.”
[Sidenote: THE EAGLE’S EYRIE.]
In the following passage, two hawking terms are used in connection with
the eagle:--
“Know, the gallant monarch is in arms,
And, like an eagle o’er his aiery, _towers_,
To _souse_ annoyance that comes near his nest.”
_King John_, Act v. Sc. 2.
This passage has been differently rendered, by removing the punctuation
between “aiery” and “towers,” and reading the former “airey” or “airy,”
and making “towers” a substantive. But the meaning of the passage, as it
stands above, seems to us sufficiently clear.
“Aiery” is equivalent to “eyrie,” the nesting-place. The word occurs
again in _Richard III._ (Act i. Sc. 3):--
“Our _aiery_ buildeth in the cedar’s top;”
and,
“Your _aiery_ buildeth in our _aiery’s_ nest.”
The verb “to tower,” in the language of falconry, signifies “to rise
spirally to a height.” Compare the French “_tour_.” As a further
argument, too, for reading “towers” as a verb, and not as a substantive,
compare the following passage from _Macbeth_, which plainly shows that
Shakespeare was not unacquainted with this word as a hawking term:--
“A falcon _towering_ in her pride of place.”
_Macbeth_, Act ii. Sc. 4.
[Sidenote: THE FATAL SWOOP.]
The word “souse,” above quoted, is likewise borrowed from the language
of falconry, and, as a substantive, is equivalent to “swoop.” It would
seem to be derived from the German “sausen,” which signifies to rush
with a whistling sound like the wind; and this is certainly expressive
of the “whish” made by the wings of a falcon when swooping on her prey.
There is a good illustration of this passage in Drayton’s “Polyolbion,”
Song xx., where a description of hawking at wild-fowl is given. After
the falconers have put up the fowl from the sedge, the hawk, in the
words of the author, having previously “towered,” “gives it a souse.”
Beaumont and Fletcher also make use of this word as a hawking term in
_The Chances_, iv. 1; and it occurs in Spenser’s “Faerie Queene,” Book
iv. Canto v. 30.
A notice of the various hawks made use of by falconers, and mentioned by
Shakespeare, might be here properly introduced, but it will be more
convenient to reserve this notice for a separate chapter, and confine
our attention for the present to the larger diurnal birds of prey which,
like the eagles, are seldom, if ever, reclaimed by man.
Of these, excluding the eagle, Shakespeare makes mention of four--the
Vulture, the Osprey, the Kite, and the Buzzard.
[Sidenote: THE VULTURE:]
Those who are acquainted with the repulsive habits of the Vulture, led
as he is by instinct to gorge on carrion, will best understand the
allusions to this bird which are to be met with in the works of
Shakespeare.
What more forcible expression can be found to indicate a guilty
conscience than “the gnawing vulture of the mind”? (_Titus Andronicus_,
Act v. Sc. 2.)
“There cannot be
That vulture in you, to devour so many.”
_Macbeth_, Act iv. Sc. 3.
When King Lear would denounce the unkindness of a daughter, which he
could never forget, laying his hand upon his heart, he exclaims:--
“O Regan, she hath tied
Sharp-tooth’d unkindness, like a vulture, here.”
_King Lear_, Act ii. Sc. 4.
[Sidenote: ITS REPULSIVE HABITS.]
One of the worst wishes to which Falstaff could give vent when in a bad
humour, was:--
“Let vultures gripe thy guts!”
_Merry Wives of Windsor_, Act i. Sc. 3.
And the same idea is expressed in _Henry IV._ (Part II. Act v. Sc. 4):--
“Let vultures vile seize on his lungs also!”
Occasionally we find the word “vulture” employed as an adjective:--
“Her sad behaviour feeds her vulture folly.”
_Lucrece._
And--
“Whose vulture thought doth pitch the price so high.”
_Venus and Adonis._
[Sidenote: THE OSPREY:]
The structure of the Osprey is wonderfully adapted to his habits, and an
examination of the feet of this bird will prove how admirably contrived
they are for grasping and holding a slippery fish. Mr. St. John, who had
excellent opportunities of studying the Osprey in his native haunts,
says:[39]--“I generally saw the osprey fishing about the lower pools of
the rivers near their mouths; and a beautiful sight it is. The
long-winged bird hovers (as a kestrel does over a mouse), at a
considerable distance above the water, sometimes on perfectly motionless
wing, and sometimes, wheeling slowly in circles, turning his head and
looking eagerly down at the water. He sees a trout when at a great
height, and suddenly closing his wings, drops like a shot bird into the
water, often plunging completely under, and at other times appearing
scarcely to touch the water, but seldom failing to rise again with a
good-sized fish in his talons. Sometimes, in the midst of his swoop, the
osprey stops himself suddenly in the most abrupt manner, probably
because the fish, having changed its position, is no longer within
range. He then hovers, again stationary, in the air, anxiously looking
below for the re-appearance of the prey. Having well examined one pool,
he suddenly turns off, and with rapid flight takes himself to an
adjoining part of the stream, where he again begins to hover and circle
in the air. On making a pounce into the water, the osprey dashes up the
spray far and wide, so as to be seen for a considerable distance.”
After this description, it is easy to understand the allusion of
Aufidius, who says:--
“I think he’ll be to Rome,
As is the osprey to the fish, who takes it
By sovereignty of nature.”
_Coriolanus_, Act iv. Sc. 7.
[Sidenote: ITS POWER OVER FISH.]
Mr. Staunton thinks that the image is founded on the fabulous power
attributed to the osprey of fascinating the fish on which he preys. In
Peele’s play of _The Battle of Alcazar_, 1594 (Act i. Sc. 1), we read:--
“I will provide thee of a princely osprey,
That, as he flieth over fish in pools,
The fish shall turn their glistering bellies up,
And thou shalt take thy liberal choice of all.”
[Sidenote: THE KITE,]
Another of the birds of prey mentioned by Shakespeare is “the lazar
Kite” (_Henry V._ Act ii. Sc. 1). Although a large bird, and called by
some the royal Kite (_Milvus regalis_), it has not the bold dash of many
of our smaller hawks in seizing live and strong prey, but glides about
ignobly, looking for a sickly or wounded victim, or for offal of any
sort.
“And kites
Fly o’er our heads, and downward look on us,
As we were sickly prey.”
_Julius Cæsar_, Act v. Sc. 1.
“Ere this
I should have fatted all the region kites
With this slave’s offal.”
_Hamlet_, Act ii. Sc. 2.
“A prey for carrion kites.”
_Henry VI._ Part II. Act v. Sc. 2.
From the ignoble habits of the bird, the name “kite” became a term of
reproach:--
“You kite!”
_Antony and Cleopatra_, Act iii. Sc. 13.
And--
“Detested kite!”
_King Lear_, Act i. Sc. 4.
When pressed by hunger, however, the kite becomes more fearless; and
instances have occurred in which a bird of this species has entered the
farmyard and boldly carried off a chicken.
“Wer’t not all one, an empty eagle were set
To guard the chicken from a hungry kite,
As place Duke Humphrey for the king’s protector?”
_Henry VI._ Part II. Act iii. Sc. 1.
The synonym “puttock” is sometimes applied to the kite, sometimes to the
common buzzard. In the following passage, where reference is made to the
supposed murder of Gloster by Suffolk, it evidently has reference to the
former bird:--
“Who finds the partridge in the puttock’s nest,
But may imagine how the bird was dead,
Although the kite soar with unbloodied beak?”
_Henry VI._ Part II. Act iii. Sc. 2.
[Sidenote: A BIRD OF ILL-OMEN.]
With the ancients the kite appears to have been a bird of ill-omen. In
_Cymbeline_ (Act i. Sc. 2), Imogen says:--
“I chose an eagle, and did avoid a puttock.”
And the superiority of the eagle is again adverted to by Hastings, in
_Richard III._ (Act i. Sc. 1):--
“More pity that the eagle should be mew’d,
While kites and buzzards prey at liberty.”
The intractable disposition of the kite is thus noticed:--
“Another way I have to man my haggard,
To make her come, and know her keeper’s call;
That is, to watch her, as we watch these kites,
That bate, and beat, and will not be obedient.”
_Taming of the Shrew_, Act iv. Sc. 1.
A wild hawk was sometimes tamed by watching it night and day, to prevent
its sleeping. In “An approved treatyse of Hawks and Hawking,” by Edmund
Bert, Gent., which was published in London in 1619, the author says:--“I
have heard of some who watched and kept their hawks awake seven nights
and as many days, and then they would be wild, rammish, and disorderly.”
This practice is often alluded to by Shakespeare:--
“You must be _watch’d_ ere you be made tame, must you?”
_Troilus and Cressida_, Act iii. Sc. 2.
“I’ll _watch_ him tame.”
_Othello_, Act iii. Sc. 3.
“But I will _watch_ you from such _watching_ now.”
_Romeo and Juliet_, Act iv. Sc. 4.
[Sidenote: HABITS OF THE KITE.]
The habit which the kite has, in common with other rapacious birds, of
rejecting or disgorging the undigested portions of its food, such as
bones and fur, in the shape of pellets, was apparently well known to
Shakespeare, for he says:--
“If charnel-houses and our graves must send
Those that we bury back, our monuments
Shall be the maws of kites.”
_Macbeth_, Act iii. Sc. 4.
And again,--
“Thou detestable maw ...
Gorg’d with the dearest morsel of the earth.”
_Romeo and Juliet_, Act v. Sc. 3.
[Sidenote: THE KITE’S NEST.]
Another curious fact in the natural history of the kite is adverted to
in the _Winter’s Tale_ (Act iv. Sc. 2). It is there said,--
“When the kite builds, look to lesser linen.”
This line may be perhaps best illustrated by giving a description of a
kite’s nest which we have seen, and which was taken many years ago in
Huntingdonshire. The outside of the nest was composed of strong sticks;
the lining consisted of small pieces of linen, part of a saddle-girth, a
bit of a harvest glove, part of a straw bonnet, pieces of paper, and a
worsted garter. In the midst of this singular collection of materials
were deposited two eggs. The kite is now almost extinct in England, and
a kite’s nest, of course, is a great rarity. The Rev. H. B. Tristram,
speaking of the habits of the Egyptian kite (_Milvus Ægyptius_),
says:[40]--“Its nest, the marine store-shop of the desert, is decorated
with whatever scraps of bournouses and coloured rags can be collected;
and to these are added, on every surrounding branch, the cast-off coats
of serpents, large scraps of thin bark, and perhaps a bustard’s wing.”
[Sidenote: THE BUZZARD.]
We have alluded to the Buzzard (_Buteo vulgaris_) in the passage above
quoted from _Richard III._, and also to the synonym “puttock,” which was
sometimes applied to this bird, as well as to the kite.
Mr. St. John, who was well acquainted with the common buzzard, thought
that in all its habits it more nearly resembled the eagle than any other
kind of hawk.[41]
In the following passage, it seems probable, as suggested by Mr.
Staunton, that a play upon the words is intended, and that “buzzard” in
the second line means a beetle, so called from its buzzing noise:--
“O slow-wing’d turtle! shall a buzzard take thee?
Ay, for a turtle, as he takes a buzzard.”
_Taming of the Shrew_, Act ii. Sc. 1.
Neither the kite nor the buzzard were ever trained for hawking, being
deficient both in speed and pluck.
The former, however, was occasionally “flown at” by falconers, although
oftener for want of a better bird, than because he showed much sport.
Both are now far less common than in Shakespeare’s day. The increased
number of shooters, and the war of extermination which is carried on by
gamekeepers, inevitably seal their doom.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
CHAPTER II.
HAWKS AND HAWKING.
To those who have ever taken part in a hawking excursion, it must be a
matter of some surprise that so delightful a pastime has ceased to be
popular. Yet, at the present day, perhaps not one person in five hundred
has ever seen a trained hawk flown. In Shakespeare’s time things were
very different. Every one who could afford it kept a hawk, and the rank
of the owner was indicated by the species of bird which he carried. To a
king belonged the gerfalcon; to a prince, the falcon gentle; to an earl,
the peregrine; to a lady, the merlin; to a young squire, the hobby;
while a yeoman carried a goshawk; a priest, a sparrowhawk; and a knave,
or servant, a kestrel. But the sport was attended with great expense,
and much time and attention were required of the falconer before his
birds were perfectly trained, and he himself a proficient.
This, combined with the increased enclosure and cultivation of waste
lands, has probably contributed as much as anything to the decline of
falconry in England.
[Sidenote: THE AGE OF HAWKING.]
During the age in which Shakespeare lived, the sport was at its height,
and it is, therefore, not surprising that he has taken much notice of it
in his works, and has displayed a considerable knowledge on the subject.
In the second part of _King Henry VI._ Act 2, we find a scene laid at
St. Alban’s, and the King, Queen, Gloster, Cardinal, and Suffolk
appearing, with falconers halloaing. We quote that portion of the scene
which refers more particularly to the sport:--
“_Queen._ Believe me, lords, for _flying at the brook_,
I saw not better sport these seven years’ day:
Yet, by your leave, the wind was very high;
And, ten to one, old Joan[42] had not gone out.
_King._ But what a _point_, my lord, your falcon made,
And what a _pitch_ she flew above the rest!--
To see how God in all his creatures works!
Yea, man and birds are fain of climbing high.
_Suff._ No marvel, an it like your majesty,
My lord protector’s hawks do _tower_ so well;
They know their master loves to be aloft,
And bears his thoughts above his falcon’s _pitch_.
_Glo._ My lord, ’tis but a base ignoble mind
That mounts no higher than a bird can _soar_.
_Card._ I thought as much; he’d be above the clouds.
* * * * *
Believe me, cousin Gloster,
Had not your man put up the fowl so suddenly,
We had had more sport.”
[Sidenote: HAWKING TERMS.]
“Flying at the brook” is synonymous with “hawking by the river,” and
shows us that the party were in pursuit of water-fowl. Chaucer speaks of
“Ryding on, hawking by the river,
With grey goshawk in hand.”
“_Point._”--The fluttering or hovering over the spot where the “quarry”
has been “put in.”
“_Pitch._”--The height to which a hawk rises before swooping.
“How high a _pitch_ his resolution soars!”
_Richard II._ Act i. Sc. 1.
“_Tower._”--A common expression in falconry, signifying to rise spirally
to a height. Compare the French “_tour_.” The word occurs again in
_Macbeth_, Act ii. Sc. 4, with reference to a fact which we might well
be excused for doubting, did we not know that it was related as an
unusual circumstance:--
“On Tuesday last,
A falcon, _tow’ring_ in her pride of place,
Was by a mousing owl hawk’d at and kill’d.”
[Sidenote: THE FALCON AND TERCEL.]
Many of the incidents connected with Duncan’s death are not to be found
in the narrative of that event, but are taken from the chronicler’s
account of King Duffe’s murder. Among the prodigies there mentioned is
the one referred to by Shakespeare. “Monstrous sightes also, that were
seene without the Scottishe kingdome that year, were these.... There was
a sparhauke also strangled by an owle.” We have known a Tawny Owl to
kill and devour a Kestrel which had been kept in the same aviary with
it.
By “tow’ring in her pride of place,” is here understood to mean circling
at her highest point of elevation. So in Massinger’s play of _The
Guardian_, Act i. Sc. 2:--
“Then for an evening flight
A tiercel gentle which I call, my masters,
As he were sent a messenger to the moon,
In such a _place_, flies, as he seems to say
See me or see me not.”
By the falcon is always understood the female, as distinguished from the
tercel, or male, of the peregrine or goshawk. The latter was probably
called the tercel, or tiercel, from being about _a third_ smaller than
the falcon. Some authorities, however, state that of the three young
birds usually found in the nest of a falcon, two of them are females and
_the third_ a male; hence the name of tercel.[43]
[Sidenote: THE TERCEL-GENTLE.]
By others, again, the term is supposed to have been derived from the
French _gentil_, meaning neat or handsome, because of the beauty of its
form.
There appears to be a great deal of confusion in the nomenclature of the
hawks used in falconry. The same name has been applied to two distinct
species, and the same species, in different states of plumage, has
received two or more names. With regard to the “tercel,” as
distinguished from the “tercel-gentle,” it would appear that the former
name was given to the male goshawk, and the latter to the male
peregrine; for the peregrine being a long-winged hawk, and the more
_noble_ of the two, the word “gentle,” or “gentil,” was applied to it
with that signification.
In this view we are supported to some extent by quaint old Izaak Walton.
In his “Compleat Angler,” there is an animated conversation between an
angler, a hunter, and a falconer, each of whom in turn commends his own
recreation. The falconer gives a list of his hawks, and divides them
into two classes, viz.: the long-winged and short-winged hawks. In
enumerating each species in pairs, he gives first the name of the
female, and then that of the male: among the first class we find--
The gerfalcon and jerkin,
The falcon and tercel-gentle, &c.
In the second class we have--
The eagle and iron,[44]
The goshawk and tercel, &c.
From this we may conclude that the name tercel-gentle was applied to the
male peregrine, a long-winged hawk, to distinguish it from the tercel,
or male goshawk, a short-winged hawk.
[Sidenote: DOCILITY OF THE FALCON.]
The female falcon, from her greater size and strength, was always
considered superior to the male--stronger in flight:--
“As confident as is the falcon’s flight
Against a bird.”
_Richard II._ Act i. Sc. 3.
And possessing more powerful talons:--
“So doves do peck the falcon’s piercing talons.”
_Henry VI._ Part III. Act i. Sc. 4.
She was more easily trained, and capable of being flown at larger game.
Hence Shakespeare asserts--
“The falcon as the tercel, for all the ducks i’ the river.”
_Troilus and Cressida_, Act iii. Sc. 2.
Sometimes we find the word “tercel” written “tassel,” as in _Romeo and
Juliet_ (Act ii. Sc. 2):--
“O, for a falconer’s voice,
To lure this _tassel-gentle_ back again!”
Spenser almost invariably spells the word in this way.[45] To understand
the allusion to the falconer’s voice, it should be observed that after a
hawk had been flown, and had either struck or missed the object of her
pursuit, the “lure” (which we shall presently describe) was thrown up to
entice her back, and at the same time the falconer shouted to attract
her attention.
[Sidenote: QUALITIES OF A GOOD FALCONER.]
Professor Schneider, in a Latin volume published at Leipsic, in
1788,[46] thus enumerates the qualities of a good falconer: “Sit
mediocris staturæ; sit perfecti ingenii; bonæ memoriæ; levis auditu;
acuti visûs; _homo magnæ vocis_; sit agilis et promptus; sciat natare,”
&c. &c.
Each falconer had his own particular call, but it was generally somewhat
like--
“Hillo, ho, ho, boy! come, bird, come!”
_Hamlet_, Act i. Sc. 5.
[Sidenote: THE LURE AND ITS USE.]
The “lure” was of various shapes, and consisted merely of a piece of
iron or wood, generally in the shape of a heart or horseshoe, to which
were attached the wings of some bird, with a piece of raw meat fixed
between them. A strong leathern strap, about three feet long, fastened
to it with a swivel, enabled the falconer to swing it round his head, or
throw it to a distance. With high-flying hawks, however, it was often
found necessary to use a live pigeon, secured to a string by soft
leather jesses, in order to recall them.[47]
The long-winged hawks were always brought to the lure, the short-winged
ones to the hand:--
“As falcon to the lure, away she flies.”
_Venus and Adonis._
The game flown at was called in hawking parlance the “quarry,” and
differed according to the hawk that was used. The gerfalcon and
peregrine were flown at herons, ducks, pigeons, rooks, and magpies; the
goshawk was used for hares and partridges; while the smaller kinds, such
as the merlin and hobby, were trained to take blackbirds, larks, and
snipe. The French falconers, however, do not appear to have been so
particular:--
“We’ll e’en to ’t like French falconers, fly at anything
we see.”--_Hamlet_, Act ii. Sc. 2.
[Sidenote: THE QUARRY.]
The word “quarry” occurs in many of the Plays.
“This ‘quarry’ cries on havoc.”[48]
_Hamlet_, Act v. Sc. 2.
In the language of the forest, “quarry” also meant a heap of slaughtered
game. So, in _Coriolanus_ (Act iii. Sc. 1), Caius Marcius says:--
“And let me use my sword, I’d make a ‘quarry’
With thousands of these quarter’d slaves.”
The beauty of the following passage, from its being clothed in
technicalities, will be likely to escape the notice of those who are not
conversant with hawking phraseology; but an acquaintance with the terms
employed will elicit admiration at the force and beauty of the metaphor.
Othello, mistrusting the constancy of Desdemona towards him, and
comparing her to a hawk, exclaims:--
“If I do prove her _haggard_,
Though that her _jesses_ were my dear heart-strings,
I’d whistle her off, and let her down the wind,
To prey at fortune.”
_Othello_, Act iii. Sc. 3.
By “haggard” is meant a wild-caught and unreclaimed mature hawk, as
distinguished from an “eyess,” or nestling; that
“There is, sir, an aiery of children, little eyases, that cry out.”
_Hamlet_, Act ii. Sc. 2.
By some falconers “haggards” were also called “passage hawks,” from
being always caught when in that state, at the time of their periodical
passage or migration. As will be seen hereafter, the word “haggard”
occurs frequently throughout the Plays.
[Sidenote: HAWK’S TRAPPINGS.]
The “jesses” were two narrow strips of leather, fastened one to each
leg, the other ends being attached to a swivel, from which depended the
“leash.” When the hawk was flown, the swivel and leash were taken off,
the jesses and bells remaining on the bird.
[Illustration]
Some of the old falconers’ directions on these points are very quaint.
Turbervile, in his “Book of Falconrie,” 1575, speaking of the trappings
of a hawk, says:--“Shee must haue jesses of leather, the which must haue
knottes at the ende, and they should be halfe a foote long, or there
about; at the least a shaftmeete betweene the hoose of the jesse, and
the knotte at the ende, whereby you tye the hauke.”
[Sidenote: THE JESSES.]
In the modern “jesse,” however, there are no knots. It is fastened in
this wise. The leg of the hawk is placed against the “jesse,” between
the slits A and B. The end A is then passed through the slit B, and the
end C in turn through the slit A. The swivel, with its dependent leash,
is then attached to slit C; and the same with the other leg.
Othello says:--
“I’d whistle her off, and let her down the wind,
To prey at fortune.”
Falconers always flew their hawk _against_ the wind. If flown _down_ the
wind, she seldom returned. When, therefore, a useless bird was to be
dismissed, her owner flew her “down the wind;” and thenceforth she
shifted for herself, and was said “to prey at fortune.”
The word “haggard,” as before observed, is of frequent occurrence
throughout the Plays of Shakespeare. In the _Taming of the Shrew_ (Act
iv. Sc. 2), Hortensio speaks of Bianca as “this proud disdainful
_haggard_.” In _Much Ado about Nothing_ (Act iii. Sc. 1), Hero, alluding
to Beatrice, says--
“I know, her spirits are as coy and wild
As _haggards_ of the rock.”
In _Twelfth Night_ (Act iii. Sc. 1), Viola says of the Clown:--
“This fellow’s wise enough to play the fool;
And to do that well craves a kind of wit:
He must observe their mood on whom he jests,
The quality of persons, and the time;
And, _like the haggard_, check at every feather
That comes before his eye.”
To “check” is a term used in falconry, signifying to “fly at,” although
it sometimes meant to “change the bird in pursuit.”[49] The word occurs
again in the same play (Act ii. Sc. 4), and in _Hamlet_, Act iv. Sc. 7.
[Illustration]
[Sidenote: THE BELLS.]
Besides the “jesses,” the “bells” formed an indispensable part of a
hawk’s trappings. These were of circular form, from a quarter to a full
inch in diameter, and made of brass or silver, and were attached, one to
each leg of the bird, by means of small slips of leather called
“bewits.” The use of bells was to lead the falconer by their sound to
the hawk when in a wood, or out of sight.
“As the ox hath his bow,[50] sir, the horse his curb, and the _falcon
her bells_, so man hath his desires.”--_As You Like It_, Act iii. Sc. 3.
So in _Henry VI._ Part III. Act i. Sc. 1--
“Nor he that loves him best,
The proudest he that holds up Lancaster,
Dares stir a wing, if Warwick _shake his bells_.”
Again--
“Harmless Lucretia, marking what he tells
With trembling fear, _as fowl hears falcon’s bells_.”
_Lucrece._
[Illustration]
[Sidenote: THE HOOD.]
The “hood,” too, was a necessary appendage to the trained falcon. This
was a cap or cover for the head, which was not removed until the
“quarry” was started, in order to prevent the hawk from flying too soon.
[Sidenote: AN “UNMANN’D” HAWK.]
The Constable of France, speaking of the valour of the Dauphin, says:--
“’Tis a _hooded_ valour, and when it appears it will _bate_.”
_Henry V._ Act iii. Sc. 7.
The allusion is to the ordinary action of a hawk, which, when unhooded,
_bates_, or flutters. But a quibble may be here intended between “bate,”
the hawking technical, and “bate,” to dwindle or abate. The word occurs
again in _Romeo and Juliet_ (Act iii. Sc. 2)--
“_Hood_ my unmann’d blood, _bating_ in my cheeks.”
And to those not conversant with the terms employed in falconry, this
line would be unintelligible. An “unmanned” hawk was one not
sufficiently reclaimed to be familiar with her keeper, and such birds
generally “bated,” that is, fluttered or beat their wings violently in
their efforts to escape.
Petruchio, in _The Taming of the Shrew_, gives us a lesson in reclaiming
a hawk when speaking thus of Catherine:--
“My falcon now is sharp, and passing empty,
And, till she _stoop_, she must not be full-gorg’d,
For then she never looks upon her _lure_.
Another way I have to _man_ my _haggard_,
To make her come, and know her keeper’s call,
That is, to watch her, as we watch these kites
That _bate_, and beat, and will not be obedient.
She eat no meat to-day, nor none shall eat;
Last night she slept not, nor to-night she shall not.”
_Taming of the Shrew_, Act iv. Sc. 1.
The word “stoop,” sometimes written “stoup” (Spenser’s “Faerie Queene,”
Book I. Canto XI. 18), and “swoop” (_Macbeth_, “at one fell swoop”),
signifies a rapid descent on the “quarry.” It occurs again in _Henry V._
Act iv. Sc. 1:--
“And though his affections are higher mounted than ours, yet, when they
_stoop_, they _stoop_ with the like wing.”
[Illustration]
[Sidenote: THE CADGE.]
The hawks, when carried to the field, were borne on “the cadge,” as
shown in the engraving; the person carrying it being called “the
cadger.” The modern word “cad,” now generally used in an opprobrious
sense, is in all probability an abbreviation of “cadger,” and therefore
synonymous with “servant” or common fellow.
Florizel, addressing Perdita, in the _Winter’s Tale_ (Act iv. Sc. 3),
says,--
“I bless the time
When my good falcon made her flight across
Thy father’s ground;”
for this was the occasion of his first meeting her.
[Sidenote: THE HAWK’S “MEW.”]
In the following passage from _Measure for Measure_, (Act iii. Sc. 1),
there occurs a word in connection with falconry, which requires some
explanation,--
“This outward-sainted deputy,
Whose settled visage and deliberate word
Nips youth i’ th’ head, and follies doth _enmew_
As falcon doth the fowl.”
The verb “to mew,” or “enmew,” signifies to enclose or shut up, owing
its origin to the word “mews,” the place where the hawks were
confined:--
“To-night she’s _mew’d_ up.”
_Romeo and Juliet_, Act iii. Sc. 4.
Gremio, speaking of Bianca to Signor Baptista, says,--
“Why, will you _mew_ her?”
_Taming of the Shrew_, Act i. Sc. 1.
A question presently solved by Tranio, who says:--
“And therefore has he closely _mew’d_ her up,
Because she will not be annoy’d with suitors.”
[Sidenote: ORIGIN OF THE WORD “MEW.”]
The word “mew,” derived from the old French “_mue_,” signifies a change,
or moult, when birds and other animals cast their feathers, hair, or
horns. Hence Latham observes that “the mew is that place, whether it be
abroad or in the house, where you set down your hawk during the time she
raiseth or reproduceth her feathers.”
It was necessary to take great care of a hawk in her mewing time. In
“The Gentleman’s Academie,” edited by Gervase Markham, 1595, there are
several sections on the mewing of hawks, from one of which it may be
learnt that the best time to commence is in the beginning of Lent; and
if well kept, the bird will be mewed, that is, moulted, by the beginning
of August.
“Forthcoming from her darksome _mew_.”
_Faerie Queene_, Book I. Canto v. 20.
[Sidenote: THE ROYAL MEWS.]
The Royal hawks were kept at the mews at Charing Cross during many
reigns (according to Stowe, from the time of Richard II., in 1377), but
they were removed by Henry VIII., who converted the place into stables.
The name, however, confirmed by the usage of so long a period, remained
to the building, although, after the hawks were withdrawn, it became
inapplicable. But, what is more curious still, in later times, when the
people of London began to build ranges of stabling at the back of their
streets and houses, they christened those places “mews,” after the old
stabling at Charing Cross.
[Sidenote: THE FOWL ENMEWED.]
The word “enmew,” quoted above in the passage from _Measure for
Measure_, would seem rather to signify here, “to seize upon,” or “to
disable.” It is sometimes written “enewe.” In Nash’s “Quaternio; or, a
Fourefold Way to a Happie Life,” published in 1633, it occurs in a
spirited description of hawking at water-fowl:--“And to hear an
accipitary relate againe how he went forth in a cleare, calme, and
sunshine evening, about an houre before the sunne did usually maske
himselfe, unto the river, where finding of a mallard, he whistled
off[51] his falcon, and how shee flew from him as if shee would never
have turned head againe, yet presently upon a shoote came in; how then
by degrees, by little and little, by flying about and about, shee
mounted so high, until shee had lessened herselfe to the view of the
beholder to the shape of a pigeon or partridge, and had made the height
of the moon the place[52] of her flight; how presently, upon the landing
of the fowle, shee came downe like a stone and _enewed_ it, and suddenly
got up againe, and suddenly upon a second landing came down againe, and
missing of it, in the downe course recovered it beyond expectation, to
the admiration of the beholder at a long flight.”
Another method of spelling the same word may be instanced by the
following quotation from Turbervile’s “Book of Falconrie,” 1575:--
“And if shee misse, to mark her how shee then gets up amaine,
For best advantage, to _eneaw_ the springing fowle againe.”
[Sidenote: IMPING.]
In the days of falconry[53] a peculiar method of repairing a broken
wing-feather was known to falconers by the term “imping.” The verb “to
imp,” appears to be derived from the Anglo-Saxon “impan,” signifying to
graft, or inoculate; and the mode of operation is thus described in a
scarce pamphlet by Sir John Sebright, entitled “Observations on
Hawking”:--
“When any of the flight or tail-feathers of a hawk are accidentally
broken, the speed of the bird is so injured, that the falconer finds
it necessary to repair them by an expedient called ‘imping.’
“This curious process consists in attaching to the part that remains
an exact substitute for the piece lost. For this purpose the
falconer is always provided with pinions (right and left) and with
tail-feathers of hawks, or with the feathers separated from the
pinion carefully preserved and numbered, so as to prevent mistake in
taking a true match for the injured feather. He then with a sharp
knife gently parts the web of the feather to be repaired at its
thickest part, and cuts the shaft obliquely forward, so as not to
damage the web on the opposite edge. He next cuts the substitute
feather as exactly as possible at the corresponding point and with
the same degree of slope.
“For the purpose of uniting them, he is provided with an iron needle
with broad angular points at both ends, and after wetting the needle
with salt-and-water, he thrusts it into the centre of the pith of
each part, as truly straight and as nearly to the same length in
each as may be.
[Illustration]
“When this operation has been skilfully performed, the junction is
so neat, that an inexperienced eye would hardly discern the point of
union, and as the iron rusts from having been wetted with brine,
there is little or no danger of separation.”
After this explanation, the meaning of the following lines is clear:--
“If then we shall shake off our slavish yoke,
_Imp_ out our drooping country’s _broken wing_.”
_Richard II._ Act ii. Sc. 1.
Passages such as this are likely enough to be overlooked by the majority
of readers, but it is in such chiefly that the ornithologist sees a
proof that Shakespeare, for the age in which he lived, possessed a
surprising knowledge of ornithology.
[Sidenote: SEELING.]
Besides “imping,” there was another practice in use, now happily
obsolete, termed “seeling,” to which we find several allusions in the
Plays. It consisted in sewing a thread through the upper and under
eyelids of a newly-caught hawk, to obscure the sight for a time, and
accustom her to the hood.
[Sidenote: HOW TO SEEL A HAWK.]
Turbervile, in his “Book of Falconrie,” 1575, gives the following quaint
directions “how to seele a hawke”:--“Take a needle threeded with
untwisted thread, and (casting your Hawke) take her by the beake, and
put the needle through her eye-lidde, not right against the sight of the
eye, but somewhat nearer to the beake, because she may see backwards.
And you must take good heede that you hurt not the webbe, which is under
the eye-lidde, or on the inside thereof. Then put your needle also
through that other eye-lidde, drawing the endes of the thread together,
tye them over the beake, not with a straight knotte, but cut off the
threedes endes neare to the knotte, and twist them together in such
sorte, that the eye-liddes may be raysed so upwards, that the Hawke may
not see at all, and when the threed shall ware loose or untyed, then the
Hawke may see somewhat backwardes, which is the cause that the threed is
put nearer to the beake. For a Sparrow-hawke should see somewhat
backwardes, and a Falcon forwardes. The reasõ is that if the
Sparrow-hawke should see forwardes, shee would beate off her feathers,
or break them when she bateth upon the fist, and seeing the companie of
men, or such like, she would bate too much.”
In _Antony and Cleopatra_ (Act iii. Sc. 13) we read--
“The wise gods _seel_ our eyes.”
And in the same play (Act v. Sc. 2) Seleucus says:--
“Madam,
I had rather _seel_ my lips, than, to my peril,
Speak that which is not.”
In his beautiful soliloquy on sleep, Henry IV., addressing the fickle
goddess, exclaims,--
“Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast
_Seel_ up the ship-boy’s eyes, and rock his brains
In cradle of the rude imperious surge?”
_Henry IV._ Part II. Act iii. Sc. 1.
The word occurs again in _Othello_ (Act i. Sc. 3)--
“When light-wing’d toys
Of feather’d Cupid _seel_ with wanton dulness,” &c.
And in the same play (Act iii. Sc. 3)--
“She that, so young, could give out such a seeming,
To _seel_ her father’s eyes up close as oak.”
In the last line it is more probable, considering the use of the
technical term “seel,” above explained, that Shakespeare wrote “close as
hawk’s.”
Sir Emerson Tennant, in his “Sketches of the Natural History of Ceylon,”
speaking of the goshawk (p. 246), says:--“In the district of
Anarajapoora, where it is trained for hawking, it is usual, in lieu of a
hood, to darken its eyes by means of a silken thread passed through
holes in the eyelids.” This practice of “seeling” appears to be of some
antiquity, but has happily given way, to a great extent, to the more
merciful use of the hood.
[Sidenote: QUAINT RECIPES.]
The old treatises on falconry contain numerous quaint recipes for the
various ailments to which hawks are subject. From one of these we learn
that petroleum is nothing new, as some people now-a-days would have us
believe. Turbervile, writing in 1575, says, in his “Booke of
Falconrie”:--“An other approued medecine is to annoint the swelling of
your hawkes foot with _Oleum petrœlium_ (which is the oyle of a rocke)
and with oyle of white Lillies, taking of each of these like quantity,
the blood of a pigeon, and the tallow of a candle, heating all these
together a little at the fire. This unguent wil throughly resolue the
mischief.”--P. 258.
[Sidenote: GOING A-BIRDING.]
Hawking was sometimes called “birding.” In the _Merry Wives of Windsor_
(Act iii. Sc. 3), Master Page says,--
“I do invite you to-morrow morning to my house to breakfast; after,
we’ll _a-birding_ together; I have a fine hawk for the bush.”
This was probably a goshawk, for, being a short-winged hawk and of
slower flight, this species was considered the best for a woody
district, or, as Shakespeare terms it, “the bush.”
In the same play (Act iii. Sc. 5) Dame Quickly, referring to Mistress
Ford, says,--“Her husband goes this morning _a-birding_;” and Mistress
Ford, herself, says (Act iv. Sc. 2),--“He’s _a-birding_, sweet Sir
John.”
But it seems that birding was not always synonymous with hawking, for,
later on in the last-mentioned scene, we read as follows:--
“_Falstaff._ What shall I do? I’ll creep up into the
chimney.
_Mrs. Ford._ There they always use to discharge their
_birding-pieces_.”
The word “hawk,” as in the case of the eagle, is almost invariably
employed by Shakespeare in its generic sense:--
“Dost thou love hawking? thou hast hawks will soar
Above the morning lark.”
_Taming of the Shrew_, Induction, Sc. 2.
In _Henry V._ (Act iii. Sc. 7), the Dauphin, when speaking in praise of
his horse, says,--
“When I bestride him, I soar, I am a hawk.”
And in the first part of _Henry VI._ (Act ii. Sc. 4), the Earl of
Warwick boasts that
“Between two hawks, which flies the higher pitch;
* * * * *
I have perhaps some shallow spirit of judgment.”
Again,--
“Twenty crowns!
I’ll venture so much of my hawk or hound,
But twenty times so much upon my wife.”
_Taming of the Shrew_, Act v. Sc. 2.
[Sidenote: THE KESTREL.]
In two instances only does Shakespeare allude to a particular species of
hawk. These are the Kestrel and Sparrowhawk.
When Malvolio, in _Twelfth Night_ (Act ii. Sc. 5), finds the letter
which Maria has purposely dropt in his path, Sir Toby Belch, looking on
from ambush, exclaims, in sporting terms:--
“And with what wing the _stanniel_ checks at it!”
Here _stanniel_ is a corruption of _standgale_, a name for the kestrel
hawk, and Malvolio is said to “check at” the letter, just as a kestrel
hovers over a mouse or other object which has suddenly attracted its
attention.
It is true that the reading of the folios here is _stallion_; but the
word _wing_, and the falconers’ term _checks_, abundantly prove that a
bird must be meant. Sir Thomas Hanmer, therefore, proposed this
correction, which all subsequent editors have received as justifiable.
The origin of the word “kestrel” is somewhat uncertain. By some it is
derived from “coystril,” a knave or peasant, from being the hawk
formerly used by persons of inferior rank, as we learn from Dame Juliana
Berners, in her “Boke of St. Albans.” This opinion is strengthened by
the reading “coystril,” in _Twelfth Night_ (Act i. Sc. 3), and
“coistrel,” in _Pericles_ (Act iv. Sc. 6). A different spelling again
occurs in “The Gentleman’s Recreation,” by Ric. Blome (folio, London,
1686), where the word is written “castrell.”
[Sidenote: THE SPARROWHAWK.]
The sparrowhawk is only mentioned once by Shakespeare, and the passage
is one which might be very easily overlooked by any one not conversant
with the language of falconry. In the _Merry Wives of Windsor_, Mrs.
Ford addresses Falstaff’s page with--
“How now, my _eyas-musket_?”
“Musket”[54] was the name given by the falconers of old to the male
sparrowhawk; “eyas” or “eyess,” as before explained, signifying a
nestling, or young bird from the eyrie or nest. In the above speech,
Mrs. Ford probably intended to imply no more than we should now-a-days
mean by the expression “a perky little fellow.”
[Sidenote: HAWK AND HERNSHAW.]
The words of Hamlet with reference to a hawk must be familiar to all
readers of Shakespeare, the more so, possibly, because the passage in
question appears to have puzzled many commentators:--
“I am but mad north-north-west: when the wind is
southerly, I know a _hawk_ from a _handsaw_.”
_Hamlet_, Act ii. Sc. 2.
The explanation is simple enough. The last word should be “hernshaw,”
the old name for the heron. It is not every one who knows a hawk from a
heron when he sees it, although it is scarcely possible to conceive two
birds more unlike in appearance. Hamlet’s statement, then, is simply to
the effect that he only feigned madness when it suited his purpose; at
other times he could even outwit the many, and see a distinction where
they, from ignorance, would fail.
The ingenuity which has been exercised in a laudable endeavour to
interpret this passage is really surprising. “An ingenious friend,” says
the _Athenæum_,[55] “suggests the following explanation:--‘Among the
ancient Ægyptians, the hawk signified the Etesian, or northerly wind
(which, in the beginning of summer, drives the vapour towards the south,
and which, covering Ethiopia with dense clouds, there resolves them into
rains, causing the Nile to swell), because that bird follows the
direction of that wind (Job xxxix. 26). The heron, hern, or hernshaw
signified the southerly wind, because it takes its flight from Ethiopia
into Upper Egypt, following the course of the Nile as it retires within
its banks, and living on the small worms hatched in the mud of the
river. Hence the heads of these two birds may be seen surmounting the
_canopi_ used by the ancient Ægyptians to indicate the rising and
falling of the Nile respectively. Now Hamlet, though feigning madness,
yet claims sufficient sanity to distinguish a hawk from a hernshaw when
the wind is southerly; that is, in the time of the migration of the
latter to the north, and when the former is not to be seen. Shakespeare
may have become acquainted with the habits of these migrating birds of
Egypt through a translation of Plutarch, who gives a particular account
of them, published in the middle of the sixteenth century by Thomas
North.’”
[Sidenote: VALUE OF HAWKS.]
The present chapter, embodying, as it does, a treatise on hawking,
illustrated by quotations from Shakespeare, would scarcely be complete
without some reference to the prices paid for hawks, and to the expenses
of keeping them, at the period at which Shakespeare lived. These
particulars may be gleaned from scattered entries in certain “Household
Books” and “Privy Purse Accounts” of noble owners, which the invaluable
labours of antiquaries have placed within reach of the curious.
We have been at some pains to collect and arrange the following entries,
believing that the information which they supply will be far more
interesting to the reader if allowed to remain in the form in which we
have found it:--
PRICES OF HAWKS.
Itm̃ the viij daye paied to Walshe for
so moche money by him layed out
for one goshawke and ij fawcons iij li.
Itm̃ the xv daye paied for v fawcons
and a tarsell viij li.
Itm̃ the iij daye paied in rewarde to
S^r Richard Sandes s’vñt for the
bringing of a saker to the king at
hampton courte v s̃.
Itm̃ the same daye paied for fyve ffawcons vij li. vj s̃. viij d.
Itm̃ the iij daye paied to a stranger
called Jasper, fawconer, for vj sakers
and v sakeretts at viij corons a pece
which amot^s to xx/iiij viij corons xx li. x s̃. viij d.
Itm̃ the viij daye paied to maister
Walshe for so much money by him
paied for goshawks the which the
king’s grace bought upon the cage iij li.
Itm̃ to iij of maister Skevington’s s’vñts
in rewarde for bringing iij hobbyes
to the king’s grace iij li.
Itm̃ the xj daye paied to a s’vñt of
Maister Saint John in rewarde for
bringing a caste of hawks xx s̃.
Itm̃ the viij daye paied to a s’vñt of
the duc of Ferrers in rewarde for
bringing of a caste of fawcons to
the king’s grace at Westm xxiij li. vj s̃. viij d.
Itm̃ the xix daye paid to a s’vñt of
Maister Walshe’s for bringing of a
caste of Laneretts to the king’s
grace in rewarde x s̃.
Itm̃ the xxvij daye paied to the Abbot
of Tewxbury s’vñt in rewarde for
bringing a caste of Launners to the
king’s grace xx s̃.
Itm̃ the xvj daye paied to Augustyne
the fawconer for viij hawks at vj
Angells a pece, whiche amounteth to xviij li.
[Sidenote: KEEP OF HAWKS.]
HAWKS’ FURNITURE.
Itm̃ the iiij daye paied for ij dousin of
hawks’ hoods at iij s̃. iiij d. le dousin vj s̃. viij d.
Itm̃ the same daye paied for iij hawks’
gloves at vj s̃. viij d. le glove xx s̃.
Itm̃ the same day paied for vj dousin
gilte bells at iij corons le dousin xliij s̃.
HAWKS’ MEAT.
Itm̃ the xx daye paied to Philip Clampe
for the mete of ij hawks after the
rate of ij d. by the daye from the
xx daye of Aprill unto the xviij
day of Novembre xxv s̃.
Itm̃ the xxj daye paied to James the
henne taker for hawks’ mete x s̃.
Itm̃ the xj daye paied to Hans the
fawconer for hawks’ mete xiiij s̃. iiij d.
Itm̃ to the same Hugh paied the same
daye for the mete of v hawks by
the same space that is to saye for
one quarter of a yere; eṽy hawke
at one penny by the daye xxxviij s̃. vj d.
Itm̃ the xvj daye to maister Hennage
for the birds’ mete xij d.
Itm̃ the v day to Nicholas Clampe for
the mete of iiij hawks fro the x
daye of Maye unto the xxiij daye
of June after one peny a daye for
a hawke xv s̃.
Itm̃ to the same John Evans for the
mete of iiij hawks by the space of
lxxxxvij dayes for eṽy hawke one
penny by the daye xxxij s̃. iiij d.
FALCONERS’ WAGES.
Itm̃ the vij daye paied to John Evans
for his bourde wages for one quarter
due at our Lady daye laste paste xxx s̃. v d.
Itm̃ the ix daye paied to the same John
Evans for his bourde wages fro
Mydsom tyll Michelmas after iiij d.
by the daye xxx s̃. v d.
Itm̃ the xxvj daye paied to Nicholas
Clampe one of the fawconers for
his wages due for one quarter ended
at Easter laste paste l s̃.
Itm̃ the same daye paied to the same
Clampe for his bourde wages from
the xxv daye of Decembre unto
the laste daye of this monethe the
which amounts to cxxvij dayes, at
iiij d. by the daye xlij s̃. iiij d.
[Sidenote: SUNDRIES.]
SUNDRIES.
Itm̃ the vth daye paied to old Hugh in
rewarde when his hawks went to
the mewe xl s̃.
Itm̃ the xxv daye paied to Walter in
rewarde for a Jerfawcon that dyed xl s̃.
Itm̃ the same daye paied to one that
toke up a Lanner that had been
lacking a hole yere x s̃.
Itm̃ the laste daye paied unto Nicholas
Clampe for keeping of a lanneret
called ‘Cutte’ for one hole yere at
j d. a daye xxx s̃. v d.
Itm̃ the xxvij daye paied to a s’vñt of
my lorde Brayes in rewarde for
taking up of a fawcon of the kings
in Bedfordshire vj s̃. viij d.
Itm̃ the xvij daye paied to one Richard
Mason for taking up of a fawcon of
the kings besides Hartford vj s̃. viij d.
Itm̃ the xiij daye paied to a s’vñt of
my lorde Darcys in rewarde for
taking up of a hawke of the kings
and bringing hir to Yorke place vij s̃. vi d.
Itm̃ the xiij daye paied to Iohn Weste
of the garde to ryde into the
contry for an hawke by the kings
comande^t xx s̃.
Itm̃ the xxviij daye paid to Willm
Tyldesley, grome of the Chambre,
for lying oute to take hawkes by
the kings comande^t x s̃.
Itm̃ the xiiij paied to a s’vñt of maister
Skevingtons in rewarde for bringing
hawkes out of Irlande xl s̃.
Itm̃ the x daye paied to Garard the
fawconer in rewarde for taking of a
fawcon and a tarsell lvj s̃.
Itm̃ the xj daye of Marche paied to
Garrat and Richard the fawconers
in rewarde for finding the Herons x s̃.
The interest which attaches to these curious extracts must excuse us
with the reader for their length.
We cannot peruse them without being carried back, in spirit, to an age
in which, for all that concerns sport, we would fain have lived to bear
a part. Alas! that so delightful a pastime as hawking should have
declined, and that we should live to see our noble falcons gibbeted,
like thieves, upon “the keeper’s tree.”
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
CHAPTER III.
THE OWL AND ITS ASSOCIATIONS.
As Jove assumed the shape of an Eagle, so Juno selected that of an Owl,
for, as Aldrovandus tells us, it was not decorous that the queen of
heaven should take on herself the likeness of any small or vulgar bird,
but rather that she should be embodied in one whose reign by night was
equal with that of the eagle by day. The owl has usually been regarded
as a bird of ill omen, and superstitiously considered a messenger of
woe. The Athenians alone among the ancients seem to have been free from
this popular prejudice, and to have regarded the owl with veneration
rather than abhorrence, considering it as the favourite of Minerva, and
the image of wisdom. The Romans viewed the owl with detestation and
dread. By them it was held sacred to Proserpine: its appearance
foreboded unfortunate events, and, according to Pliny, the city of Rome
underwent a solemn lustration in consequence of an owl having
accidentally strayed into the Capitol.
[Sidenote: ITS USE IN MEDICINE.]
In the ancient pharmacopœia, which savoured not a little of magic, the
owl appears to have been “great medicine.” Ovid tells us that this bird
was used wholesale in the composition of Medea’s gruel:--
“Et strigis infames ipsis cum carnibus alas.”
While, according to Horace, the old witch Canidia made use of the
feathers in her incantations:--
“Plumamque nocturnæ strigis.”
[Sidenote: A BIRD OF ILL OMEN.]
The “owlet’s wing” was an ingredient of the cauldron wherein the witches
prepared their “charm of powerful trouble” (_Macbeth_, Act iv. Sc. 1);
and, with the character assigned to it by the ancients, Shakespeare, no
doubt, felt that the introduction of an owl in a dreadful scene of a
tragedy would help to make the subject come home more forcibly to the
people, who had, from early times, associated its presence with
melancholy, misfortune, and death. Accordingly, we find the unfortunate
owl stigmatized at various times as the “obscure,” “ominous,” “fearful,”
and “fatal” “bird of night.” Its doleful cry pierces the ear of Lady
Macbeth while the murder is being done:--
“Hark!--Peace! It was the owl that shriek’d,
The fatal bellman which gives the stern’st good night.”
_Macbeth_, Act ii. Sc. 1.
And when the murderer rushes in immediately afterwards, exclaiming,--
“I have done the deed. Didst thou not hear a noise?”
She replies,--
“I heard the owl scream.”
And later on--
“The _obscure bird_ clamour’d the live-long night.”
_Macbeth_, Act ii. Sc. 2.
The awe, no doubt, with which this bird is regarded by the
superstitious, may be attributed in some measure to the fact of its
flying by night.
“Deep night, dark night, the silent of the night,
* * * * *
The time when screech-owls cry and ban-dogs howl.”
_Henry VI._ Part II. Act i. Sc. 4.
And yet, strange to say, the appearance of an owl by day is by some
considered equally ominous:--
“The owl by day,
If he arise, is mocked and wondered at.”
_Henry VI._ Part III. Act v. Sc. 4.
“For night-owls shriek, where mounting larks should sing.”
_Richard II._ Act iii. Sc. 3.
[Sidenote: ITS HABITS MISUNDERSTOOD.]
Should an owl appear at a birth it is said to forbode ill-luck to the
infant. King Henry VI., addressing Gloster, says,--
“The owl shriek’d at thy birth, an evil sign.”
_Henry VI._ Part III. Act v. Sc. 6.
While upon any other occasion its presence was supposed to predict a
death, or at least some dire mishap:--
“The screech-owl, screeching loud,
Puts the wretch, that lies in woe,
In remembrance of a shroud.”
_Midsummer Night’s Dream_, Act v. Sc. 2.
When Richard III. is irritated by the ill-news showered thick upon him,
he interrupts the third messenger with--
“Out on ye, owls! nothing but songs of death?”
_Richard III._ Act iv. Sc. 4.
It is curious how wide-spread is the superstition regarding certain
birds, and particularly the owl. Even amongst the Land Dayaks of Borneo,
the owl is considered a bird of ill omen. Mr. Spenser St. John, in his
“Life in the Forests of the Far East,” observes with regard to omens
(vol. i. p. 202):--
“If a man be going on a war expedition, and has a slip during his
first day’s journey, he must return to his village, especially if by
the accident blood be drawn, for then, should he proceed, he has no
prospect but wounds or death. If the accident occur during a long
expedition, he must return to his last night’s resting place. In
some tribes, if a deer cry near a party who are setting out on a
journey, they will return. When going out at night to the jungle, if
the scream of a hawk, or an owl, or of a small kind of frog be
heard, it is a sign that sickness will follow if the design be
pursued; and again, if the screech of the two former be heard in
front of a party on the warpath, it is an evil sign, and they must
return. Omens derived from the cry of birds are always sought
previously to setting out on a journey, and before fixing on a spot
to build new houses, or to prepare their farms.”
[Sidenote: ITS UTILITY TO THE FARMER.]
Far from bringing any ill-luck to our dwellings, owls are really of the
greatest service to us in destroying great numbers of vermin. A Swiss
naturalist, speaking of the quantity of field-voles which are annually
destroyed by owls and buzzards, says:[56]--
“C’est un fait curieux que l’homme s’acharne tout particulièrement à
detruire ses meillures amis, et qu’il poursuive de ses malédictions
les êtres qui le servent le mieux. Je joindrai donc ma faible voix à
celle de bien d’autres naturalistes pour demander que l’on protége
les premières de ces bêtes.
“Les hibous et les chouettes, bien loin de jeter de mauvais sorts
sur nos demeures, prennent au contraire, un grand soin de nos
intérêts. Ces oiseaux exterminent, en effet, bien plus de souris que
n’en pourront prendre jamais les meilleurs taupiers. Les buses n’ont
nullement mérité leur place sur la porte de nos granges, et plutôt
que de les tuer, l’on ferait bien mieux d’établir chez nous, comme
cela s’est fait avec succès dans certaines localités, de hauts
perchoirs dans nos campagnes pour attirer ces oiseaux bienfaisants.”
[Sidenote: A CURIOUS TRADITION.]
Among the many curious legends which exist with reference to this bird,
we may mention one to which Shakespeare has alluded in Hamlet:--
“They say the owl was a baker’s daughter.”
_Hamlet_, Act iv. Sc. 5.
Mr. Staunton, in his edition of Shakespeare’s Plays, says this has
reference to a tradition still current in some parts of England. “Our
Saviour went into a baker’s shop where they were baking, and asked for
some bread to eat. The mistress of the shop immediately put a piece of
dough into the oven to bake for him, but was reprimanded by her
daughter, who, insisting that the piece of dough was too large, reduced
it considerably in size. The dough, however, immediately afterwards
began to swell, and presently became of an enormous size. Whereupon the
baker’s daughter cried out, ‘Wheugh! wheugh! wheugh!’ which owl-like
noise, it is said, probably induced our Saviour, for her wickedness, to
transform her into that bird.”
Mr. Douce represents this story as still current amongst the common
people in Gloucestershire.[57] According to Nuttall, the north country
nurses would have it that the owl was a daughter of Pharaoh, and when
they heard it hoot on a winter’s night, they sang to the wondering
child--
“Oh! ŏ ŏ ŏ, ō ō;
I once was a king’s daughter, and sat on my father’s knee,
But now I’m a poor hoolet, and hide in a hollow tree.”
There is much difference of opinion amongst naturalists as to whether
the power of hooting and shrieking is possessed by the same species. In
the following passage from _Julius Cæsar_ (Act i. Sc. 3), both sounds
are attributed to the same bird:--
“Yesterday the _bird of night_ did sit,
Even at noonday, upon the market-place,
Hooting and shrieking.”
It is generally supposed that the common barn or white owl does not
hoot, but only shrieks, and is, in fact, the bird always alluded to as
the “screech-owl,” while the brown owls (_Strix otus_, _brachyotus_, and
_aluco_) are the hooters--
“The clamorous owl, that nightly hoots.”
_Midsummer Night’s Dream_, Act ii. Sc. 2.
But Mr. Colquhoun, speaking of the white or barn owl, says,[58] “It does
hoot, but very rarely. I heard one six times in succession, and then it
ceased.” Sir William Jardine once shot a white owl in the act of
hooting; and Mr. Boulton, of Beverley, Yorkshire, describes[59] the note
of one of these birds which he had reared from the nest, and kept in
confinement for fifteen months, as follows:--“It does hoot exactly like
the long-eared owl, but not so frequently. I use the term ‘hoot’ in
contradistinction to ‘screech,’ which it often does when irritated.”
[Sidenote: NOTE OF THE OWL.]
In Gardiner’s “Music of Nature” the note of the brown owl is thus
rendered:--
[Music]
Mr. Colquhoun, to whom allusion has just been made, says, that the music
of the white or barn owl is a little different from that of the brown
owls. It is only one prolonged cadence, lower and not so mournful as
that of the tawny fellow.
It would appear that owls do not keep to one note. A friend of Gilbert
White’s remarked that most of his owls hooted in B flat, but that one
went almost half a note below A. The pipe by which he tried their notes
was a common half-crown pitchpipe. A neighbour, also, of the Selborne
naturalist, who was said to have a nice ear, remarked that the owls
about Selborne hooted in three different keys: in G flat (or F sharp),
in B flat, and A flat. He heard two hooting to each other, the one in A
flat, the other in B flat.
It did not appear, however, whether the sounds proceeded from different
species of brown owls, or from different individuals of the same
species.
[Sidenote: AN OWL ROBBING NESTS.]
Another question in the life-history of the owl is raised by the
following passage from _Macbeth_ (Act iv. Sc. 2):--
“For the poor wren,
The most diminutive of birds, will fight,
Her young ones in her nest, against the owl.”
This defence of their young by birds has often been noticed by
Shakespeare:--
“Unreasonable creatures feed their young;
And though man’s face be fearful to their eyes,
Yet, in protection of their tender ones,
Who hath not seen them (even with those wings
Which sometimes they have us’d with fearful flight)
Make war with him that climb’d unto their nest,
Off’ring their own lives in their young’s defence?”
_Henry VI._ Part III. Act ii. Sc. 2.
[Sidenote: EVIDENCE NOT CONCLUSIVE.]
We are not aware, however, that an owl has ever been caught in the act
of robbing a nest, and, indeed, it would not be easy to detect him, from
the fact of his preying by night. Nevertheless, there is presumptive
evidence to support the charge. A writer in _The Field_, of 29th June,
1867, says:--“Standing in my garden in Bedford Park, Croydon, an
evening or two since, I saw a white owl fly to a sparrow’s nest lodged
on a water-spout under the roof of the house, and as though that visit
was not successful, he repeated it, and then went to a nest on the next
house, in the same way. It was too dark for me to see if he succeeded in
his marauding expedition against the poor sparrows. Is it a common
occurrence for an owl to go robbing nests? I never saw it done before,
though I have lived all my life in the country, and of course seen this
favourite bird skimming over the water meadows for its supper.” To this
communication the editor adds the following note:--“This fact is
extremely interesting, and, we think, generally unknown. It would,
however, have added much to the interest, had the robbery actually been
proved; it does not seem quite certain that this was the owl’s object in
visiting the roof.”
[Sidenote: ITS CHARACTER MALIGNED.]
Some years ago, having made the discovery that some stock-doves were
building in the wooden spire of our village church, we commissioned the
parish clerk to secure a pair of young birds as soon as they were ready
to fly. He made several attempts for this purpose, paying occasional
visits to see how the young birds were getting on, when, on going to the
nest, as he supposed for the last time, to carry them off, he found it
empty. This happened three or four times, and he was much puzzled to
account for it. The birds could not have flown--they were not old
enough. No one else could have taken them, for the church could not be
entered without the key, which he always kept. Had rats carried them
off? The clerk said there were none. Had there been any, he must have
heard or seen them on one or other of his many visits to the church, or
at least have found signs of their presence. But this was never the
case. He stated, however, that a pair of barn owls lived in the same
spire, and he thought that they were the culprits, taking the young
ones, as he said, as soon as they were fat enough, to save themselves
the trouble of hunting out of doors. Be this as it may, we feel bound to
say, on behalf of the owls, they were never caught in the fact, and that
the parent stock-doves were not deterred from laying again and again,
and at length rearing a brood. Charles Waterton, whose name will be
familiar to all naturalists, argues strongly against the notion of the
barn owl robbing dove-cotes. He says[60]:--“When farmers complain that
the barn owl destroys the eggs of their pigeons, they lay the saddle on
the wrong horse. They ought to put it on the rat.
“Formerly, I could get very few young pigeons till the rats were
excluded effectually from the dove-cot. Since that took place, it has
produced a great abundance every year, though the barn owls frequent it,
and are encouraged all around it. The barn owl merely resorts to it for
repose and concealment. If it were really an enemy to the dove-cot, we
should see the pigeons in commotion as soon as it begins its evening
flight, but the pigeons heed it not; whereas if the sparrowhawk or hobby
should make its appearance, the whole community would be up at
once--proof sufficient that the barn owl is not looked upon as a bad or
even a suspicious character by the inhabitants of the dove-cot.”
[Sidenote: ITS RETIRING HABITS.]
Its habit of breeding in retired situations is alluded to in _Titus
Andronicus_, Act ii. Sc. 3:--
“Here never shines the sun; here nothing breeds,
Unless the nightly owl.”
And Shakespeare has truly characterized the appearance of this bird on
the wing, when he speaks of
“The night-owl’s lazy flight.”
_Henry VI._ Part III. Act ii. Sc. 1.
[Sidenote: ITS FIVE WITS.]
Why the owl has been called the “bird of wisdom” it is not easy to
determine. Possibly because it can see in the dark, and is the only bird
which looks straightforward. Shakespeare frequently alludes to its “five
wits,” and the readers of Tennyson’s poems will no doubt remember the
lines:--
“Alone, and warming his _five wits_,
The white owl in the belfry sits.”
With our early writers the five senses appear to have been generally
called the “five wits.” Chaucer, in the “Parsone’s Tale,”
says:--“Certes delites been after the appetites of the ‘five wittes;’ as
sight, hereing, smelling, savouring, and touching.” But it is not clear
how this proverbial phrase became connected with the owl, nor what is
the origin of “warming” the wits.
“_Petruchio._ Am I not _wise_?
_Katharine._ Yes, keep you _warm_.”
_Taming of the Shrew_, Act ii. Sc. 1.
“If he have _wit_ enough to keep himself _warm_.”
_Much Ado_, Act i. Sc. 1.
“Bless thy _five wits_.”
_King Lear_, Act iii. Sc. 4, and Act iii. Sc. 6.
[Sidenote: ITS FAME IN SONG.]
The allusion above made to Tennyson’s well-known poem, reminds us of the
quaint and characteristic song in the last scene of _Love’s Labour’s
Lost_:--
III.
“When icicles hang by the wall,
And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,
And Tom bears logs into the hall,
And milk comes frozen home in pail;
When blood is nipp’d, and ways be foul,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
To-who;
Tu-whit, to-who, a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
IV.
When all aloud the wind doth blow,
And coughing drowns the parson’s saw,
And birds sit brooding in the snow,
And Marian’s nose looks red and raw;
When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
To-who;
Tu-whit, to-who, a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.”
Nor do we forget Ariel’s song in _The Tempest_ (Act v. Sc. 1)--
“Where the bee sucks, there lurk I;
In a cowslip’s bell I lie,
There I couch when owls do cry.”
Amongst the fairies, at least, the owl seems to have found friends, and
is generally represented as a companion in their moonlight gambols:--
“This is the fairy land!--O, spite of spites!--
We talk with goblins, owls, and elvish sprites.”
_Comedy of Errors_, Act ii. Sc. 2.
The folio of 1623 omits “elvish,” but the folio of 1632 has “elves,”
which Rowe changed to “elvish.”
[Sidenote: ITS COMRADES.]
The following quotation we have some hesitation in introducing, for
there appears to be a difference of reading, which quite alters the
sense:--
“No, rather, I abjure all roofs, and choose
* * * * *
To be a comrade with the wolf and owl,--
Necessity’s sharp pinch.”
_King Lear_, Act ii. Sc. 4.
Mr. Collier, taking into consideration the last line, reads:--
“To be a comrade with the wolf, and howl
Necessity’s sharp pinch.”
And this seems more likely to be the correct reading. Albeit, in support
of the former version, the following passage in _Lucrece_ has been
adduced:--
“No noise but owls’ and wolves’ death-boding cries.”
It is not to be supposed that Shakespeare was always a firm believer in
the popular notions respecting animals and birds to which he has made
allusion. In many cases he had a particular motive in introducing such
notions, although possibly aware of their erroneous nature, and he
evidently adopted them only to impart an air of reality to the scenes
which he depicted, and to bring them home more forcibly to the
impressionable minds of his auditors, to whom such “folks-lore” would be
familiar. This is notably the case as regards the owl, and no one can
read the first scene in the second act of _Macbeth_, or the fourth scene
in the first act of _Henry VI._ (Part II.), without feeling the
impressive effect produced by the introduction of a bird which is held
in such detestation by the ignorant, but which naturalists have shown to
be not only harmless, but useful.
[Sidenote: THE OWL’S GOOD NIGHT.]
But--
“The owl, night’s herald, shrieks,--’tis very late.”
_Venus and Adonis._
And, therefore, with Boyet, in _Love’s Labour’s Lost_ (Act iv. Sc. 1),
we will say:--
“Good night, my good owl.”
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
CHAPTER IV.
THE CROWS AND THEIR RELATIONS.
To a superficial observer of nature, there may appear to be a much
greater resemblance between the Raven, the Crow, the Rook, and the
Jackdaw, than we find to be actually the case. At the same time, so
different to them in outward appearance are the Jay and Magpie, that it
may appear extraordinary to class them all together. Nevertheless, while
each, of course, has its distinguishing characters, all are included in
the first section of the family of crows.
[Sidenote: THE RAVEN,]
The Raven (_Corvus corax_), from his size and character, naturally takes
the lead. Go where we will over the face of the wide world, the
well-known hoarse croak of the raven is still to be heard. He was seen
perched on the bare rocks, looking over the dreary snows of the highest
points visited in the Arctic Expeditions. Under the burning sun of the
equator he enjoys his feast of carrion. He was discovered in the islands
of the Pacific Ocean by Captain Cook; and in the lowest Southern or
Antarctic regions, other travellers have found him pursuing his cautious
predatory life, just as in England.[61]
From the earliest times the raven, with his deep and solemn voice, has
always commanded attention, and superstitious people have become
impressed with the idea that there is something unearthly in his nature
and ominous in his voice.[62] By the Romans this bird was consecrated to
Apollo, and regarded as a foreteller of good or evil. Through a long
course of centuries this character has clung to him; and even to this
day, there are many who believe that the raven’s croak predicts a death.
[Sidenote: A BIRD OF ILL OMEN.]
No wonder, then, that Shakespeare has taken advantage of this
wide-spread belief, and has introduced the raven into many of the solemn
passages of his Plays, to carry conviction to the minds of the people,
and render his images the more impressive. He frequently alludes to “the
ill-boding raven:”
“It comes o’er my memory,
As doth the raven o’er the infectious house,
Boding to all.”
_Othello_, Act iv. Sc. 1.
Thersites, in _Troilus and Cressida_ (Act v. Sc. 2), says,--
“Would I could meet that rogue Diomed; I would croak like a raven; I
would bode, I would bode.”
In the play of _Henry VI_, Suffolk vainly endeavours to cheer up the
King, who has swooned on hearing of Gloster’s death, saying:--
“Comfort, my sovereign! gracious Henry, comfort!”
But the King, likening his message to the ill-boding note of a raven,
replies:--
“What, doth my lord of Suffolk comfort me?
Came he right now to sing a raven’s note,
Whose dismal tune bereft my vital powers;
And thinks he that the chirping of a wren,
By crying comfort from a hollow breast,
Can chase away the first-conceived sound?”
_Henry VI._ Part II. Act iii. Sc. 2.
After Balthazar has sung his well-known song, “Sigh no more, ladies,”
(_Much Ado_, Act ii. Sc. 3,) Benedick observes to himself, “An he had
been a dog that should have howled thus, they would have hanged him: and
I pray God his bad voice bode no mischief. I had as lief have heard the
night-raven, come what plague could have come after it.”
[Sidenote: THE NIGHT-CROW:]
Willughby thought that the so-called “night-raven” was the bittern.
Speaking of the curious noise produced by the latter bird, he
says:--“This, I suppose, is the bird which the vulgar call the
night-raven, and have a great dread of.”[63]
The bittern was one of the very few birds which Goldsmith, in his
“Animated Nature,” described from personal observation, and he, too,
calls it the “night-raven.” Its hollow boom, he says, caused it to be
held in detestation by the vulgar. “I remember, in the place where I was
a boy, with what terror the bird’s note affected the whole village; they
considered it as the presage of some sad event, and generally found, or
made one to succeed it. If any person in the neighbourhood died, they
supposed it could not be otherwise, for the night-raven had foretold it;
but if nobody happened to die, the death of a cow or a sheep gave
completion to the prophecy.”
Sometimes it was called the _night-crow_--
“The night-crow cried, aboding luckless time.”
_Henry VI._ Part III. Act v. Sc. 6.
[Sidenote: ITS SUPPOSED PROPHETIC POWER.]
Shakespeare has introduced an allusion to the raven with much effect, in
the fifth scene of the first act in _Macbeth_, where an attendant enters
the chamber of Lady Macbeth to announce--
“The king comes here to-night.
_Lady M._ Thou ’rt mad to say it!--
Is not thy master with him? who, were’t so,
Would have informed for preparation.
_Attend._ So please you, it is true:--our thane is coming:
One of my fellows had the speed of him;
Who, almost dead for breath, had scarcely more
Than would make up his message.
_Lady M._ Give him tending;
He brings great news. [_Exit Attendant._
The raven himself is hoarse
That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan
Under my battlements.”
On this passage Johnson remarks: “The messenger, says the servant, had
hardly breath to make up his message; to which the lady answers
mentally, that he may well want breath; such a message would add
hoarseness to the raven. That even the bird whose harsh voice is
accustomed to predict calamities, could not croak the entrance of Duncan
but in a note of unwonted harshness.”
The preference which the raven evinces for “sickly prey,” or carrion, is
not unnoticed by the poet:--
“Now powers from home, and discontents at home,
Meet in one line; and vast confusion waits,
As doth a raven on a sick-fallen beast,
The imminent decay of wrested pomp.”
_King John_, Act iv. Sc. 3.
And again--
“Ravens
Fly o’er our heads, and downward look on us,
As we were sickly prey.”
_Julius Cæsar_, Act v. Sc. 3.
[Sidenote: ITS PRESENCE ON BATTLE-FIELDS.]
In _Henry V._ (Act iv. Sc. 2) we have a graphic picture of a distressed
army followed by ravens on the look-out for corpses:--
“Yond island _carrions_, desperate of their bones,
Ill-favour’dly become the morning field:
Their ragged curtains poorly are let loose,
And our air shakes them passing scornfully.
And their executors, the knavish crows,
Fly o’er them all, impatient for their hour.”
It is most probable that the supposed prophetic power of the raven,
respecting battles and bloodshed, originated in its frequent presence on
these occasions, drawn to the field of slaughter by an attractive
banquet of unburied bodies of the slain. Hence poets have described this
bird as possessing a mysterious knowledge of these things. The
Icelanders, notwithstanding their endeavours to destroy as many as they
can, yet give them credit for the gift of prophecy, and have a high
opinion of them as soothsayers. And the priests of the North American
Indians wear, as a distinguishing mark of their sacred profession, two
or three raven skins, fixed to the girdle behind their back, in such a
manner that the tails stick out horizontally from the body. They have
also a split raven skin on the head, so fastened as to let the beak
project from the forehead.[64]
[Sidenote: ITS FOOD.]
The solitary habits of this bird during the nesting season are thus
alluded to:--
“A barren detested vale, you see, it is;
The trees, though summer, yet forlorn and lean,
O’ercome with moss and baleful misseltoe:
Here never shines the sun; here nothing breeds,
Unless the nightly owl or fatal raven.”
_Titus Andronicus_, Act ii. Sc. 3.
And a curious belief is mentioned with regard to the rearing of its
young:--
“Some say that ravens foster forlorn children,
The whilst their own birds famish in their nests.”
_Titus Andronicus_, Act ii. Sc. 3.
[Sidenote: ALLEGED DESERTION OF YOUNG.]
It would appear, from some passages in the sacred Scriptures, that the
desertion of their young had not escaped the observation of the inspired
writers. It was certainly a current belief in olden times, that when the
raven saw its young ones newly hatched, and covered with down, it
conceived such an aversion that it forsook them, and did not return to
the nest until a darker plumage had shown itself. And to this belief
commentators suppose the Psalmist alludes when he says:--“_He giveth to
the beast his food, and to the young ravens which cry_.” (Psalm cxlvii.
9.) And again, in Job, “_Who provideth for the raven his food? When his
young ones cry unto God, they wander for lack of meat._” (Job xxxviii.
41.)
In Batman “upon Bartholome his book, ‘De proprietatibus Rerum,’ folio,
1582,” we find the following passage bearing upon the question:--“The
raven is called _Corvus_ of Corax. It is said that ravens birdes
(_i.e._, young ravens) be fed with deaw of heaven all the time that they
have no black feathers by benefite of age.” (Lib. xii. c. 10.)
Izaak Walton, in his “Compleat Angler,” speaking of fish without mouths,
which “are nourished and take breath by the porousness of their gills,
man knows not how,” observes that “this may be believed if we consider
that when the raven hath hatched her eggs, she takes no further care,
but leaves her young ones to the care of the God of nature, who is said
in the Psalms (Psal. cxlvii. 9) ‘to feed the young ravens that call upon
him.’ And they be kept alive, and fed by a dew or worms that breed in
their nests; or some other ways that we mortals know not.”
Shakespeare, no doubt, had the words of the Psalmist in his mind when he
wrote--
“And He that doth the ravens feed,
Yea, providently caters for the sparrow,
Be comfort to my age!”
_As You Like It_, Act ii. Sc. 3.
[Sidenote: RAVENS’ FEATHERS.]
We read in the First Book of Kings, xvii. 4, that when the prophet
Elijah fled from the tyranny of King Ahab, and concealed himself by the
brook Cherith, God commanded the ravens to feed him there. The
remembrance of this passage may have been in our poet’s mind when he
penned the following lines in the _Winter’s Tale_. Antigonus, ordered by
Leontes to expose the infant Perdita to death, says, with a touch of
pity:--
“Come on, poor babe:
Some powerful spirit instruct the kites and ravens
To be thy nurses!”
_Winter’s Tale_, Act ii. Sc. 3.
As in the case of the owl, it appears that ravens’ feathers were
employed by the witches of old in their incantations; for it was
believed that the wings of this bird carried contagion with them
wherever they appeared. Marlowe, in his _Jew of Malta_, speaks of--
... “the sad presaging raven, that tolls
The sick man’s passport in her hollow beak,
And in the shadow of the silent night
Doth shake contagion from her sable wings.”
Hence the curse which Shakespeare puts into the mouth of Caliban:--
“As wicked dew as e’er my mother brush’d
With raven’s feather from unwholesome fen,
Drop on you both!”
_Tempest_, Act i. Sc. 2.
Here “wicked” may be taken to mean pernicious or destructive--the
antonym being “virtuous,” as in the expression “the virtuous properties
of plants.” A bad sore is described, in an old tract on hawking (Harl.
MS. 2,340), as “a wykked felone.”
[Sidenote: A BLACK CHARACTER.]
As the type of blackness, both as regards colour and character, we find
the raven frequently contrasted with the white dove, the emblem of all
that is pure and gentle.
“Who will not change a raven for a dove?”
_Midsummer Nights Dream_, Act ii. Sc. 2.
“I’ll sacrifice the lamb that I do love,
To spite a raven’s heart within a dove.”
_Twelfth Night_, Act v. Sc. 1.
“Beautiful tyrant! fiend angelical!
Dove-feather’d raven!
* * * * *
Just opposite to what thou justly seem’st.”
_Romeo and Juliet_, Act iii. Sc. 2.
The quarto (1599) and folio here read, “ravenous, dove-feather’d raven,”
&c.
As colour is intensified by contrast, so we read--
“Whiter than snow upon a raven’s back.”
So the undated quarto. Other editions have the emendation--
“Whiter than new snow on a raven’s back.”
_Romeo and Juliet_, Act iii. Sc. 2.
[Sidenote: VARIATION IN COLOUR.]
We have seen a variety of the jackdaw of a dirty yellowish-white colour;
it could scarcely be called “amber-colour’d.” No doubt other members of
the genus _Corvus_ have occasionally been observed to vary quite as much
in their plumage. Shakespeare says,--
“An amber-colour’d raven was well noted.”
_Love’s Labour’s Lost_, Act iv. Sc. 3.
No doubt it was; quite as much as a white blackbird. This apparent
contradiction of terms is in reality no myth. We have seen three or four
albino varieties of the blackbird, and could give a tolerably long list
of dark-plumaged birds of which pure white, or almost pure white,
varieties have been found. This may be the result of disease, or of old
age, drying up the animal secretions, and causing the absence of colour
which we call white. According to ancient authors, ravens were formerly
white, but were changed to black for babbling. The great age to which
the raven sometimes attains has been alluded to in the first chapter,
where some reference is made to “ancient” eagles, and tame ravens have
been known to outlive several masters who owned them successively. But
birds, like all things else, succumb to time. Shakespeare tells us,--
“Time’s glory is to calm contending Kings, ...
To fill with worm-holes stately monuments, ...
To pluck the quills from ancient ravens’ wings.”
_Lucrece._
[Sidenote: THE CARRION CROW:]
Next to the raven, the Carrion-Crow (_Corvus corone_) claims our
attention, from his close relationship to his larger congener. So
closely, indeed, does he resemble the raven upon a slightly modified
scale, that we might also fancy him--
“A crow of the same nest.”
_All’s Well that Ends Well_, Act iv. Sc. 3.
Like him, he leads a predatory life, carrying off young game-birds,
chickens, and eggs; and where he cannot obtain a fresh meal, he has no
objection to carrion and offal of all kinds. Should a sheep die in the
field, the crows of the neighbourhood are sure to be attracted to it.
“The fold stands empty in the drowned field,
And crows are fatted with the murrain flock.”
_Midsummer Night’s Dream_, Act ii. Sc. 1.
Gamekeepers, knowing this propensity, and having an eye to the better
preservation of pheasants’ eggs for the future, avail themselves of the
opportunity, when a sheep dies, to place a little strychnine in the
mouth and eyes, and on a second visit they are seldom disappointed in
finding two or three dead crows.
[Sidenote: ITS PREDATORY HABITS.]
Throughout the Plays we meet with frequent allusions to the crow, and
its partiality for carrion. In the fifth act of _Cymbeline_ a scene is
laid in a field between the British and Roman camps, where the following
dialogue takes place:--
“_British Captain._ Stand! who’s there?
_Posthumus._ A Roman,
Who had not now been drooping here, if seconds
Had answer’d him.
_British Captain._ Lay hands on him; a dog!
A leg of Rome shall not return to tell
What crows have peck’d them here.”
_Cymbeline_, Act v. Sc. 3.
Again--
“_Boy._ Mine host Pistol, you must come to my master,--and you,
hostess;--he is very sick, and would to bed....
_Host._ By my troth, he’ll yield the crow a pudding one of these
days.”
_Henry V._ Act ii. Sc. 1.
The Duke of York, on the field of St. Albans, boasting of his victory
over Lord Clifford, says, in reply to the Earl of Warwick:--
“The deadly-handed Clifford slew my steed,
But match to match I have encounter’d him,
And made a prey for carrion kites and crows
Even of the bonny beast he lov’d so well.”
_Henry VI._ Part II. Act v. Sc. 2.
[Sidenote: FOOD FOR CROWS.]
Cassius, on the eve of battle, augured a defeat because, as he said,--
“Crows
Fly o’er our heads, and downward look on us,
As we were sickly prey; their shadows seem
A canopy most fatal, under which
Our army lies, ready to give up the ghost.”
_Julius Cæsar_, Act v. Sc. 1.
In the third act of _Cymbeline_ (Sc. 1), when Caius Lucius, the Roman
Ambassador, comes to demand tribute from the British King, he is met
with a flat refusal, and Cloten, one of the lords in waiting, deriding
his threat of war, says:--
“His Majesty bids you welcome. Make pastime with us a day or two, or
longer: if you seek us afterwards in other terms, you shall find us
in our salt-water girdle: if you beat us out of it, it is yours; if
you fall in the adventure, _our crows shall fare the better for
you_; and there’s an end.”
Alexander Iden, addressing the lifeless body of Jack Cade, whom he had
just slain, exclaims:--
“Hence will I drag thee headlong by the heels
Unto a dunghill, which shall be thy grave,
And there cut off thy most ungracious head;
Which I will bear in triumph to the king,
Leaving thy trunk _for crows to feed upon_.”
_Henry VI._ Part II. Act iv. Sc. 10.
[Sidenote: BLACK AS A CROW.]
Many similar instances might be brought forward. As in the case of the
raven, we find the crow, as the emblem of blackness, contrasted with the
white dove:--
“With the dove of Paphos might the crow
Vie feathers white.”
_Pericles_, Act iv. Introd.
Again--
“Lawn as white as driven snow;
Cyprus black as e’er was crow.”
_Winter’s Tale_, Act iv. Sc. 3.
Here we have not only the crow contrasted with snow, but also cyprus, a
thin transparent black stuff, somewhat like crape, placed in
contradistinction with lawn, which is a white material, like muslin.[65]
“So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows,
As yonder lady o’er her fellows shows.”
_Romeo and Juliet_, Act i. Sc. 5.
“Compare her face with some that I shall show,
And I will make thee think thy swan a crow.”
_Romeo and Juliet_, Act i. Sc. 2.
Beatrice says (_Much Ado about Nothing_, Act i. Sc. 1),--“I had rather
hear my dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me;” but then this
was meant to be personal, for Benedick, whom she addressed, was not a
favoured suitor. She might have added, with Dromio, in the _Comedy of
Errors_, Act iii. Sc. 1:--
“We’ll pluck a crow together.”
This saying appears to be of some antiquity, but the origin of it is not
very clear.
[Sidenote: CROW-KEEPER AND SCARE-CROW.]
The custom of protecting newly sown wheat from the birds by keeping a
lad to shout, or putting up a “scare-crow,” is no doubt an old one.
Shakespeare makes allusion to both methods:--
“That fellow handles his bow like _a crow-keeper_.”
_King Lear_, Act iv. Sc. 6.
That is like a boy employed to keep the crows from the corn. So again--
“Scaring the ladies like a _crow-keeper_.”
_Romeo and Juliet_, Act i. Sc. 4.
The rustic, although entrusted with a bow and arrows, was not expected
to have much skill in archery, and Roger Ascham, in his “Toxophilus,”
when speaking of a clumsy archer, has a similar comparison to that in
the passage just quoted:--“Another coureth downe and layeth out his
buttockes, as though hee should shoote at crowes.”
“We must not make a _scare-crow_ of the law,
Setting it up to fear[66] the birds of prey,
And let it keep one shape, till custom make it
Their perch, and not their terror.”
_Measure for Measure_, Act ii. Sc. 1.
Lord Talbot relates that, when a prisoner in France, he was exhibited
publicly in the market-place:--
“Here, said they, is the terror of the French,
The _scare-crow_ that affrights our children so.”
_Henry VI._ Part I. Act i. Sc. 4.
And Falstaff, alluding to his recruits on the march to Shrewsbury, says
of them:--
“No eye hath seen such _scare-crows_.”
_Henry IV._ Part I. Act iv. Sc. 2.
[Sidenote: THE CHOUGH.]
Associated with the crow by many of the poets is the Red-legged Crow, or
Chough--the Cornish Chough, as it is sometimes called, from its being
considered a bird peculiar to the south-west coast of England. Since
this last name was applied to it, the study of ornithology has become
so universally courted, that it can scarcely be necessary to show that
the geographical distribution of the species is much wider than was
formerly supposed.
[Sidenote: THE CHOUGH AND CROW.]
The old song of “The Chough and Crow” will probably be remembered as
long as the English language lasts.
Shakespeare has introduced both these birds in a fine description of
Dover Cliff. It is not improbable that the chough, which affects
precipices and sea-cliffs, may once have frequented the cliffs at Dover;
but whatever may have been the case formerly, this haunt, if it ever was
one, has long since been deserted. Shakespeare, at all events, has
placed this bird in a situation most natural to it:--
“Come on, sir; here’s the place:--stand still.--How fearful
And dizzy ’t is, to cast one’s eyes so low!
The _crows_ and _choughs_, that wing the midway air,
Show scarce so gross as beetles: half way down
Hangs one that gathers samphire,--dreadful trade!
Methinks he seems no bigger than his head:
The fishermen, that walk upon the beach,
Appear like mice; and yond tall anchoring bark,
Diminish’d to her cock; her cock, a buoy
Almost too small for sight: the murmuring surge,
That on the unnumber’d idle pebbles chafes,
Cannot be heard so high.--I’ll look no more,
Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight
Topple down headlong.”
_King Lear_, Act iv. Sc. 6.
The chough is easily tamed, and a prettier sight than three or four of
these birds, with their bright red legs and bills, strutting about on a
well-mown lawn, can scarcely be conceived.
It is to be regretted that the species is not more plentiful and more
generally domesticated.
[Sidenote: CHOUGH’S LANGUAGE.]
Instances, we believe, are on record of choughs being taught to speak,
but Shakespeare appears to have entertained no great opinion of their
talking powers. He speaks of
“Chough’s language, gabble enough, and good enough.”
_All’s Well that Ends Well_, Act iv. Sc. 1.
And probably there was a good deal more chattering than talking, as we
understand the term.
“There be ...
... lords that can prate
As amply and unnecessarily
As this Gonzalo; I myself could make
A chough of as deep chat.”
_Tempest_, Act ii. Sc. 1.
In _Henry IV._, in the scene where Falstaff, with the Prince and Poins,
meet to rob the travellers at Gadshill, Falstaff calls the victims “fat
chuffs,” probably from their strutting about with much noise.
[Sidenote: VARIOUS CHOUGHS.]
In the _Winter’s Tale_, the rogue Autolycus appears as a pedlar, and
while drawing the attention of those around him to his wares, he takes
the opportunity to pick their pockets. His power of persuasion was so
great that, as he himself said,--
“They throng who should buy first, as if my trinkets had been
hallowed, and brought a benediction to the buyer: by which means I
saw whose purse was best in picture; and what I saw, to my good use
I remembered.”
He proceeds to compare them to choughs whom he had allured by his chaff,
and says:--
“In this time of lethargy, I picked and cut most of their festive
purses; and had not the old man come in with a whoobub against his
daughter and the king’s son, and scared my choughs from the chaff, I
had not left a purse alive in the whole army.”--_Winter’s Tale_,
Act iv. Sc. 3.
[Sidenote: THE JACKDAW.]
The word “chough,” it appears, was not always intended to refer to the
bird with red legs and bill, as we may infer from the following passage
in O’Flaherty’s “West or H’Iar Connaught, 1684,” p. 13:--“I omit other
ordinary fowl and birds, as bernacles, wild geese, swans,
cocks-of-the-wood, woodcocks, _choughs_, rooks, _Cornish choughs, with
red legs and bills_,” &c. Here the first-mentioned choughs were in all
probability jackdaws.
Shakespeare alludes to--
“Russet-pated choughs, many in sort,
Rising and cawing at the gun’s report.”
_Midsummer Night’s Dream_, Act iii. Sc. 2.
Now the jackdaw, though having a grey head, would more appropriately
bear the designation of “russet-pated” than any of his congeners. We may
presume, therefore, that this is the species to which Shakespeare
intended to refer. The head of the chough, like the rest of its body, is
perfectly black.
The Jackdaw (_Corvus monedula_) has not been so frequently noticed by
Shakespeare as many other birds, and in the half-dozen instances in
which it is mentioned, we find it referred to as the “daw.” The word
occurs in _Coriolanus_, Act iv. Sc. 5; _Troilus and Cressida_, Act i.
Sc. 2; _Much Ado about Nothing_, Act ii. Sc. 3; _Twelfth Night_, Act
iii. Sc. 4; and in a song in _Love’s Labour’s Lost_. Warwick, expressing
his ignorance of legal matters, says:--
“But in these nice sharp quillets of the law,
Good faith, I am no wiser than a daw.”
_Henry VI._ Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4.
And the crafty and dissembling Iago remarks that--
“When my outward action doth demonstrate
The native act and figure of my heart
In compliment extern, ’tis not long after
But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve
For daws to peck at.”
_Othello_, Act i. Sc. 1.
[Sidenote: THE MAGPIE.]
With the ancients, much superstition prevailed in regard to various
species of the crow family; and Shakespeare has specially mentioned
three of these as birds of omen:--
“Augurs that understood relations have,
By magot-pies, and choughs, and rooks, brought forth
The secret’st man of blood.”
_Macbeth_, Act iii. Sc. 4.
Even at the present day, there are many who profess to augur good or
evil from the flight of a magpie, or from the number of magpies seen
together at one time. An old rhyme on the subject runs thus:--
“One for sorrow, two for mirth;
Three for a wedding, four for a birth.”
The origin of the word magpie we have not heard explained, but it is
possible, from the manner in which the name is spelled above, that “mag”
may be an abbreviation of “maggot,” pointing to a certain propensity of
the bird, which, however, is not peculiar. Those who have spent much
time in the country, must have observed not only the magpie, but also
the jackdaw and starling, busily engaged in searching for insects on the
back of a sheep.
As in the case of the jackdaw, the magpie is sometimes called by the
latter half of his name:--
“And chattering pies in dismal discords sung.”
_Henry VI._ Part III. Act v. Sc. 6.
[Sidenote: THE ROOK.]
Before taking leave of the crow family, we have yet to notice another
bird mentioned by Shakespeare, which is nearly related to the crow. This
is the Rook (_Corvus frugilegus_). But, notwithstanding the usefulness
of the bird, the poet has not said much in its favour. It is noticed in
the song in _Love’s Labour’s Lost_, and is included amongst the birds of
omen in the quotation lately given from Macbeth.
In the _Merry Wives of Windsor_, Act i. Sc. 3, we find the expression
“bully-rook,” and it would seem that this epithet in Shakespeare’s time
bore much the same signification as “jolly-dog” does now-a-days. But it
came subsequently to have a more offensive meaning, and was applied to a
cheat and a sharper.
[Sidenote: THE JAY.]
We had well-nigh forgotten the Jay (_Corvus glandarius_),--_Winter’s
Tale_ (Act iv. Sc. 3),--and only allude to it now to show that
Shakespeare has not omitted it from his long list of birds. In
_Cymbeline_, the name is applied to a gaudily-dressed person:--
“Some jay of Italy hath betray’d him.”
_Cymbeline_, Act iii. Sc. 4.
No doubt on account of the bright plumage of this bird.
“What, is the jay more precious than the lark,
Because his feathers are more beautiful?”
_Taming of the Shrew_, Act iv. Sc. 3.
Caliban, addressing Trinculo, in _The Tempest_ (Act ii. Sc. 2),
exclaims:--
“I pr’ythee let me bring thee where crabs grow,
And I with my long nails will dig thee pig-nuts;
Show thee a jay’s nest, and instruct thee how
To snare the nimble marmozet; I’ll bring thee
To clust’ring filberds, and sometimes I’ll get thee
Young sea-mells from the rock. Wilt thou go with me?”
This tempting offer is irresistible, and Stephano interrupts him at once
by saying,--
“I pr’ythee now, lead the way, without any more
talking.”
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
CHAPTER V.
THE BIRDS OF SONG.
If there is one class of birds more than another to which poets in all
ages have been indebted for inspiration, and to which they have directed
particular attention, it is that which includes the birds of song.
Shakespeare, as a naturalist, could not have overlooked them. Nor has he
done so. These “light-wing’d Dryads of the trees” have received at his
hands all the praise which they deserve, while oftentimes, for melody
and pathos, he may be said to have borrowed from their songs himself.
[Sidenote: THE NIGHTINGALE.]
Of all the singers in the woodland choir the Nightingale (_Luscinia
philomela_), by common consent, stands first. For quality of voice,
variety of notes, and execution, she is probably unrivalled. Hence, with
poets, she has ever been the chief favourite. Izaak Walton has truly
said, “The nightingale breathes such sweet loud music out of her little
instrumental throat, that it might make mankind to think miracles are
not ceased. He that at midnight, when the very labourer sleeps securely,
should hear, as I have very often, the clear airs, the sweet descants,
the natural rising and falling, the doubling and redoubling, of her
voice, might well be lifted above earth and say, Lord, what music hast
thou provided for the saints in heaven, when thou affordest bad men such
music on earth?” To “sing like a nightingale” has passed into a proverb.
“She sings as sweetly as any nightingale.”
_Taming of the Shrew_, Act ii. Sc. 1.
In Gardiner’s “Music of Nature,” the following passage is given from the
song of the Nightingale:--
[Music]
Although the male bird only is the songster, yet we talk of _her_
singing:--
“It was the nightingale, and not the lark,
That pierc’d the fearful hollow of thine ear;
Nightly _she_ sings on yon pomegranate tree;[67]
Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.”
_Romeo and Juliet_, Act iii. Sc. 5.
The origin of this change of sex is to be found, no doubt, in the old
fable which tells us of the transformation of Philomela, daughter of
Pandion, King of Athens, into a nightingale, when Progne, her sister,
was changed to a swallow.[68]
[Sidenote: LAMENTING PHILOMEL.]
Hence also the name Philomel, which is often applied by the poets to
this bird.
“Philomel, with melody,
Sing your sweet lullaby.”
_Song--Midsummer Night’s Dream_, Act ii. Sc. 2.
“By this, lamenting Philomel had ended
The well-tun’d warble of her nightly sorrow.”
_Lucrece._
“His Philomel must lose her tongue to-day.”
_Titus Andronicus_, Act ii. Sc. 3.
The nightingale is again thus designated by Shakespeare in _Cymbeline_,
Act ii. Sc. 2, and elsewhere; and “the tragic tale of Philomel” is
prettily referred to in _Titus Andronicus_, Act iv. Sc. 1.
[Sidenote: SINGING AGAINST A THORN.]
In one, if not more, of his poems he has noticed the odd belief which
formerly existed to the effect that the mournful notes of the
nightingale are caused by the bird’s leaning against a thorn to sing!
“Every thing did banish moan,
Save the nightingale alone.
She, poor bird, as all forlorn,
_Lean’d her breast up-till a thorn_,
And there sung the dolefull’st ditty,
That to hear it was great pity.
‘Fie, fie, fie,’ now would she cry,
‘Tereu, tereu’ by and by;
That, to hear her so complain,
Scarce I could from tears refrain;
For her griefs, so lively shown,
Made me think upon mine own.”[69]
_The Passionate Pilgrim_, xix.
Again, Lucrece, in her distress, invoking Philomel, says:--
“And whiles against a thorn thou bear’st thy part,
To keep thy sharp woes waking.”--_Lucrece._
The same idea, too, has been variously expressed by other poets than
Shakespeare. Fletcher speaks of--
“The bird forlorn
That singeth with her breast against a thorn;”
and Pomfret, writing towards the close of the seventeenth century,
says:--
“The first music of the grove we owe
To mourning Philomel’s harmonious woe;
And while her grief in charming notes express’d,
A thorny bramble pricks her tender breast.
In warbling melody she spends the night,
And moves at once compassion and delight.”
Thus it was evidently believed by the poets, whether the idea was
founded on fact or not, that the nightingale leaned her breast against a
thorn when she gave forth her mournful notes. The origin of such a
belief it is not easy to ascertain, but we suspect Sir Thomas Browne was
not far from the truth when he pointed to the fact that the nightingale
frequents thorny copses, and builds her nest amongst brambles on the
ground. He inquires “whether it be any more than that she placeth some
prickles on the outside of her nest, or roosteth in thorny, prickly
places, where serpents may least approach her?”[70] In an article upon
this subject, published in “The Zoologist,” for 1862, p. 8,029, the Rev
A. C. Smith has narrated “the discovery, on two occasions, of a strong
thorn projecting upwards in the centre of the nightingale’s nest.” It
can hardly be doubted, however, that this was the result of accident
rather than design; and Mr. Hewitson, in his “Eggs of British Birds,”
has adduced two similar instances in the case of the hedge-sparrow. We
may accordingly dismiss the idea that there is any real foundation for
such belief, and regard it as a poetic license.
[Sidenote: SINGING BY DAY AND BY NIGHT.]
There is no doubt that one great charm in the song of the nightingale
is, that it is heard oftenest at eve, when nearly every other bird is
hushed and gone to roost. We are thus enabled to pay more attention to
it, and hear the entire song. This evidently was Milton’s idea when he
wrote, in “Il Penseroso:”--
“Sweet bird that shunn’st the noise of folly,
Most musical, most melancholy!
Thee, chauntress, oft the woods among,
I woo, to hear thy evening song.”
Portia says, in _The Merchant of Venice_, Act v. Sc. 1,--
“I think,
The nightingale, if she should sing by day,
When every goose is cackling, would be thought
No better a musician than the wren.”
But although she is usually supposed to withhold her notes until sunset,
and then to be the only songstress left, she in reality sings in the day
often as sweetly and as powerfully as at night, but, amidst the general
chorus of other birds, her efforts are less noticed.[71] Valentine
declares that--
“Except I be by Sylvia in the night,
There is no music in the nightingale.”
_Two Gentlemen of Verona_, Act iii. Sc. 1.
And later on--
“How use doth breed a habit in a man!
This shadowy desert, unfrequented woods,
I better brook than flourishing peopled towns:
Here can I sit alone, unseen of any,
And to the nightingale’s complaining notes
Tune my distresses and record my woes.”
_Id._ Act v. Sc. 4.
The word “record” here, refers to the singing of birds, and, according
to Douce, is derived from the recorder, a sort of flute, by which they
were taught to sing.[72]
[Sidenote: RECORDING.]
The “recording” of young birds is indeed always very different from
their song, as is also the warble of old birds after moulting, as Herr
Bechstein has justly remarked. “It is,” he says, “a very striking
circumstance, that birds which continue in song nearly the whole year,
such as the redbreast, the siskin, and the goldfinch, are obliged, after
their moulting is over, to record, as if they had forgotten their song.
I am convinced, however, that this exercise is less a study than an
endeavour to bring the organs of voice into proper flexibility, what
they utter being properly only a sort of warble, the notes of which have
scarcely any resemblance to the perfect song; and by a little attention
we may perceive how the throat is gradually brought to emit the notes of
the usual song. This view, then, leads us to ascribe the circumstance,
not to defect of memory, but rather to a roughness in the vocal organs,
arising from disuse. It is in this way that the chaffinch makes
endeavours during several successive weeks before attaining to its
former perfection, and the nightingale tries for a long time to model
the strophes of its superb song, before it can produce the full extent
of compass and brilliancy.”[73]
[Sidenote: THE LARK,]
The nightingale has not more happily inspired our poets than the Lark
(_Alauda arvensis_). Chaucer, Spenser, Milton, Shelley, and Wordsworth
have all sung the praises of this famed songster; while Shakespeare, in
undying verse, has paid many a tribute to “the blythesome bird.” Let us,
then,
“Leave to the nightingale her shady wood,”
and turn our attention to--
“The lark, that tirra-lirra chants.”
_Winter’s Tale_, Act iv. Sc. 2.
This “tirra-lirra” with the other notes of the bird is well illustrated
in the following lines:--
“La gentille alouette avec son tire-lire,
Tire-lire, à lire, et tirelirau, tire
Vers la voûte du ciel, puis son vol vers ce lieu
Vire, et désire dire adieu Dieu, adieu Dieu.”
[Sidenote: THE HERALD OF THE MORN.]
As the nightingale is called the “bird of eve,” so has the lark been
named the “bird of dawn.” Shakespeare has made frequent allusion to the
early rising of the lark:--
“I do hear the morning lark.”
_Midsummer Night’s Dream_, Act iv. Sc. 1.
“It was the lark, the herald of the morn.”
_Romeo and Juliet_, Act iii. Sc. 5.
“The busy day,
_Wak’d by the lark_, hath rous’d the ribald crows.”
_Troilus and Cressida_, Act iv. Sc. 2.
“Lo, here the gentle lark, weary of rest,
From his moist cabinet mounts up on high,
_And wakes the morning_, from whose silver breast
The sun ariseth in his majesty.”
_Venus and Adonis._
Milton’s allusion to the early singing of this bird will be familiar to
all:--
“To hear the lark begin his flight,
And, singing, startle the dull night,
From his watch-tower in the skies,
Till the dappled dawn doth rise.”
_L’Allegro._
While every musician must remember the song in _Cymbeline_, adapted to
music since Shakespeare’s day by an eminent composer:--
“Hark! hark! the lark at heaven’s gate sings,
And Phœbus ’gins arise,
His steeds to water at those springs
On chalic’d flowers that lies;
And winking Mary-buds begin
To ope their golden eyes;
With everything that pretty is,
My lady sweet, arise:
Arise, arise.”
_Cymbeline_, Act ii. Sc. 3.
[Sidenote: SINGING AT HEAVEN’S GATE.]
The notion of singing “at heaven’s gate” has been again introduced by
Shakespeare in one of his Sonnets:--
“Like to the lark, at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns _at heaven’s gate_.”
While the same idea, coupled with the mention of Phœbus, has been
expressed by earlier poets. Chaucer, in his “Knightes Tale,” says:--
“The busy larke, messager of daye,
Salueth in hire song the morwe gray:
And fyry Phebus ryseth up so bright,
That al the orient laugheth of the light.”
So also, Spenser, in his “Epithalamion,” 1595:--
“Hark how the cheerefull birds do chaunt theyr laies,
And carroll of loves praise.
The merry larke hir mattins sings aloft,
The thrush replyes, the mavis descant playes,
The ouzell shrills, the ruddock warbles soft,
So goodly all agree with sweet consent,
To this dayes merriment.”
And Milton, in the “Paradise Lost,” Book v., has--
“Ye birds
That, singing, _up to heaven’s gate_ ascend.”
The “rising of the lark” and the “lodging of the lamb” have become
synonymous with “morn” and “eve,” (_Henry V._ Act iii. Sc. 7); and he
that would rise early is counselled to “stir with the lark” (_Richard
III._ Act v. Sc. 3).
[Sidenote: THE PLOUGHMAN’S CLOCK.]
With the labourer whose avocation takes him across the fields at early
dawn, the lark is always an especial favourite; and Shakespeare would
have it furnish some indication of the time of day:--
“When shepherds pipe on oaten straws,
And merry larks are ploughmen’s clocks.”
_Song--Love’s Labour’s Lost._
Again--
“O happy fair!
Your eyes are lode-stars, and your tongue’s sweet air
More tuneable than lark to shepherd’s ear,
When wheat is green, when hawthorn buds appear.”
_Midsummer Night’s Dream_, Act i. Sc. 1.
[Sidenote: SONG OF THE LARK.]
When Juliet spoke disparagingly of the lark’s song, it was because she
wished the night prolonged, and knew that his voice betokened the
approach of day:--
“It is the lark that sings so out of tune,
Straining harsh discords, and unpleasing sharps.
* * * * *
Some say the lark and loathed toad change eyes;
O, now I would they had changed voices too!
Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray.”
_Romeo and Juliet_, Act iii. Sc. 5.
The lark has ugly eyes, and the toad very fine ones; hence arose the
saying that the lark and toad changed eyes. Juliet wished they had
changed voices too; for then, as Heath has suggested, the croak of the
toad would have been no indication of the day’s approach, and
consequently no signal for Romeo’s departure.
[Sidenote: SOARING AND SINGING.]
To the naturalist who walks abroad at early dawn, there are few sights
more pleasing than the soaring of a lark. As the first ray of sunshine
dispels the glistening dew-drop and gently falls to earth, the lark,
warmed by its soft touch, mounts high in air, and joyfully proclaims to
all the advent of a new day. What glee is expressed in the song of that
small brown bird, which, as it soars towards heaven and sings, teaches
us the first duty of the day--gratitude to our Creator!
“Higher still and higher
From the earth thou springest,
Like a cloud of fire;
The blue deep thou wingest,
And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest.
What thou art we know not;
What is most like thee?
From rainbow clouds there flow not
Drops so bright to see
As from thy presence showers a rain of melody.”[74]
The bird which could inspire such thoughts as these is indeed
noteworthy, and that poets in all ages have singled it out as an
especial favourite, can be no matter of surprise.
Who does not remember those beautiful lines of Wordsworth?--
“Leave to the nightingale her shady wood;
A privacy of glorious light is thine,
Whence thou dost pour upon the world a flood
Of harmony, with instinct more divine;
Type of the wise, who soar but never roam--
True to the kindred points of Heaven and Home!”
But to return to Shakespeare. Perhaps no bird has received more notice
at his hands than the one now under consideration. To enumerate all the
passages in which it is mentioned, would probably only weary the reader.
In addition to those already named, “the shrill-gorg’d lark” is alluded
to in _King Lear_ (Act iv. Sc. 6); while to sing “as sweetly as the
lark” has passed into a proverb (_Merchant of Venice_, Act v. Sc. 1).
Mention is made of this bird in _Titus Andronicus_ (Act ii. Sc. 3, and
Act iii. Sc. 1); in _Cymbeline_ (Act iii. Sc. 6); and in _Richard II._
(Act iii. Sc. 3).
Formerly, a curious method of taking larks was practised by means of
small pieces of looking-glass and red cloth. These were made to move at
a little distance from the fowler by means of a string, and when the
birds, impelled by curiosity, came within range, they were taken in a
net. This practice is referred to by Shakespeare in _Henry VIII._--
“Let his grace go forward,
And dare us with his cap, like larks.”
_Henry VIII._ Act iii. Sc. 2.
The cap in this case was the scarlet hat of the Cardinal, which it was
intended to use as a piece of red cloth. It seems probable, from the
context, that the word “dare” should be “draw.”
[Sidenote: THE COMMON BUNTING.]
A bird which is often taken with larks, and which, indeed, is not unlike
one in appearance, is the Common Bunting (_Emberiza miliaria_). In some
parts of the country it is known as the Bunting-Lark, and, from its size
and general colouring, a casual observer might easily mistake it for one
of the last-named species. No wonder, then, that the old lord Lafeu
says:--
“I took this lark for a bunting.”
_All’s Well that Ends Well_, Act ii. Sc. 5.
[Sidenote: THE THROSTLE.]
It is somewhat singular that the Thrush (_Turdus musicus_), a bird as
much famed for song as either the nightingale or the lark, has been so
little noticed by Shakespeare. We have failed to discover more than
three passages in the entire works of our great poet in which this
well-known bird is mentioned. It is referred to once in _A Winter’s
Tale_ (Act iv. Sc. 2); once in _Midsummer Night’s Dream_, Act iii. Sc.
1, where Bottom the weaver, in a doggrel rhyme, sings of--
“The throstle, with his note so true;”
and once again in _The Merchant of Venice_ (Act i. Sc. 2), where Portia,
speaking of the French Lord Le Bon, and alluding to his national
propensity for a dance on every available opportunity, remarks that--
“If a throstle sing, he falls straight a-capering.”
Many naturalists, who have paid particular attention to the song of the
thrush, have insisted upon its taking equal rank as a songster with the
more favoured nightingale. Certain it is, that the notes of this bird,
although not so varied, nor so liquid, so to say, as those of Philomel,
are yet of a clear, rich tone, and have something indescribably sweet
about them. “Listen,” says Macgillivray, “to the clear, loud notes of
that speckled warbler, that in the softened sunshine pours forth his
wild melodies on the gladdened ear. What does it resemble?
“Dear, dear, dear
Is the rocky glen;
Far away, far away, far away
The haunts of men.
Here shall we dwell in love,
With the lark and the dove,
Cuckoo and corn-rail,
Feast on the banded snail,
Worm and gilded fly:
Drink of the crystal rill
Winding adown the hill,
Never to dry.
With glee, with glee, with glee,
Cheer up, cheer up, cheer up, here
Nothing to harm us, then sing merrily,
Sing to the lov’d ones whose nest is near.
Qui, qui, qui, kweeu, quip,
Tiurru, tiurru, chipiwi.
Too-tee, too-tee, chiu choo,
Chirri, chirri, chooee,
Quiu, qui, qui.”
It must be admitted by all who have paid particular attention to the
song of the thrush, that this is a wonderful imitation, so far as words
can express notes. The first four lines, lines 7, 13, and 14, and the
last five lines in particular, approach remarkably close in sound to the
original; and this is rendered the more apparent if we endeavour to
pronounce the words by whistling.
Intimately associated with the thrush is its congener the Blackbird
(_Turdus merula_). Both visitors to our lawns and shrubberies, they
remind us of their presence, when we do not see them, by their sweet,
clear notes, and when the cold of winter has made them silent, we are
still charmed with their sprightly actions, and the beauty of their
plumage.
[Sidenote: THE OUZEL.]
The attractive appearance of the blackbird was not overlooked by
Shakespeare, who has mentioned him in one of his songs:--
“The ouzel-cock, so black of hue,
With orange-tawny bill.”
_Midsummer Night’s Dream_, Act iii. Sc. 1.
When Justice Shallow inquires of Justice Silence, “And how doth my
cousin?” he is answered--
“Alas, a black ouzel, Cousin Shallow.”
_King Henry IV._ Part II. Act iii. Sc. 2;
an expression which was probably equivalent to the modern phrase, a
“black sheep.”
[Sidenote: THE REDBREAST.]
Amongst the songsters of less note mentioned by Shakespeare, are the
Robin-redbreast (_Erythaca rubecula_) and the Wren (_Troglodytes
vulgaris_). These two birds have for centuries, from some unexplained
cause, been always associated together. The country people, in many
parts of England, still regard them as the male and female of one
species, and support their assertion with an old couplet--
“The robin-redbreast and the wren
Are God Almighty’s cock and hen.”
In these days, when so much more attention is paid to ornithology than
formerly, it will be hardly necessary to observe that the two birds thus
associated together are not only of very distinct species, but belong to
widely different genera.
An old name for the redbreast is “ruddock”[75] the meaning of which is
illustrated in the word “ruddy;” and the bird is still known by this
name in some parts of England.
Shakespeare has thus named it in one of his most beautiful passages:--
“With fairest flowers
Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele,
I’ll sweeten thy sad grave: thou shalt not lack
The flower that’s like thy face, pale primrose, nor
The azur’d hare-bell, like thy veins; no, nor
The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander,
Out-sweeten’d not thy breath: the _ruddock_ would,
With charitable bill,--O, bill, sore-shaming
Those rich-left heirs that let their fathers lie
Without a monument!--bring thee all this;
Yea, and furr’d moss besides, when flowers are none,
To winter-ground thy corse.”[76]
_Cymbeline_, Act iv. Sc. 2.
[Sidenote: COVERING THE DEAD WITH LEAVES.]
Bishop Percy asks, “Is this an allusion to the ‘Babes in the Wood,’ or
was the notion of the redbreast covering dead bodies general before the
writing of that ballad?” Mr. Knight says, “There is no doubt that it was
an old popular belief, and the notion has been found in an earlier book
of natural history.” John Webster, writing in 1638, says:
“Call for the robin-redbreast and the wren,
Since o’er shady groves they hover,
And with leaves and flowers do cover
The friendless bodies of unburied men.”
Izaak Walton, in his “Compleat Angler,” 1653, speaks of “the honest
robin that loves mankind, _both alive and dead_.” Possibly Shakespeare
intended only to refer to the ancient and beautiful custom of strewing
the grave with flowers.
With all birds it is the habit of the male to sing while courting the
female. So, when Valentine asks Speed, “How know you that I am in love?”
he gives, amongst other reasons, that he had learnt “to relish a
love-song like a robin-redbreast.”--_Two Gentlemen of Verona_, Act ii.
Sc. 1.
The meaning of the following dialogue does not seem quite clear:--
“_Hotspur._ Come, sing.
_Lady Percy._ I will not sing.
_Hotspur._ ’Tis the next way to turn tailor
_or be redbreast teacher_.”
_Henry IV._ Part I. Act iii. Sc. 1.
Possibly the allusion may be to the “recorder,” by which instrument
birds were taught to sing.[77] Hotspur pays a high compliment to the
vocal powers of Lady Percy by insinuating that her voice would excel the
recorder; and as the bird most frequently taught to pipe is the
bullfinch, it is not improbable that this was the bird intended under
the title of “redbreast,” and not the robin.
[Sidenote: THE WREN WITH LITTLE QUILL.]
Intimately associated with the robin, as we have before remarked, is--
“The wren, with little quill.”
_Midsummer Night’s Dream--Song._
It must often have struck others, as it has us, that for so small a
throat, the wren has a wonderfully loud song. There is not much variety
or tone in it, but the notes at once attract attention, and would lead
any one unacquainted with them to inquire the author’s name.
[Sidenote: PUGNACITY OF THE WREN.]
Portia evidently had no high opinion of the wren’s song, when she
said,--
“The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark,
When neither is attended; and, I think,
The nightingale, if she should sing by day,
When every goose is cackling, would be thought
No better a musician than the wren.”
_Merchant of Venice_, Act v. Sc. 1.
Lady Macduff was reminded of the wren when bewailing the flight of her
husband.
“_Lady M._ His flight was madness....
_Ross._ You know not
Whether it was his wisdom or his fear.
_Lady M._ Wisdom! to leave his wife, to leave his babes,
His mansion, and his titles, in a place
From whence himself does fly? He loves us not;
He wants the natural touch: for the poor wren,
The most diminutive of birds, will fight,
Her young ones in her nest, against the owl.”
_Macbeth_, Act iv. Sc. 2.
There are three statements here which are likely to be criticised by
the ornithologist. First, that the wren is the smallest of birds, which
is evidently an oversight. Secondly, that the wren has sufficient
courage to fight against a bird of prey in defence of its young, which
is doubtful. Thirdly, that the owl will take young birds from the nest.
As to this last point, see _ante_, pp. 91-94.
Imogen has made mention of the wren, as follows:--
“I tremble still with fear: but if there be
Yet left in heaven as small a drop of pity
As a wren’s eye, fear’d gods, a part of it.”
_Cymbeline_, Act iv. Sc. 2.
And allusions to this little bird will be found in _Twelfth Night_, Act
iii. Sc. 2; _Richard III._ Act i. Sc. 3; _King Lear_, Act iv. Sc. 6;
_Pericles_, Act iv. Sc. 3; and _Henry VI._ Part II. Act iii. Sc. 2.
“The Finch” is only once mentioned, _i.e._ in a song in _Midsummer
Night’s Dream_, Act iii. Sc. 1. In _Troilus and Cressida_, however, when
Thersites and Patroclus are abusing each other (Act v. Sc. 1), the
former calls the latter “finch-egg.” But what species of Finch the poet
had in view, it is not easy to determine. It may have been the
Bullfinch, but it is more likely to have been the Chaffinch, which has
always been a favourite cage-bird with the lower classes.
[Sidenote: THE SPARROW.]
The Hedge-sparrow (_Accentor modularis_), a frequenter of the same
haunts, has been more frequently noticed by Shakespeare than the wren.
In many passages throughout the Plays mention is made of “the sparrow”
without the prefix “hedge” or “house.” Occasionally we are enabled, from
the context, to determine the species; but as this is not always the
case, we propose to consider under one head all that Shakespeare has
said of either species.
[Sidenote: PHILIP SPARROW.]
The sparrow appears to have been early known by the name of “Philip,”
perhaps from its note, to which Catullus alludes:--
“Sed circumsiliens, modo huc, modo illuc,
Ad solam dominum usque _pipilabat_.”
In Lyly’s “Mother Bombie,”
“Cry
_Phip, phip_, the sparrows as they fly.”
And Skelton, the Poet Laureate of Henry VIII.’s reign, wrote a long poem
entitled “Phylyppe Sparrow,” on the death of a pet bird of this species.
Shakespeare thus names it in _King John_ (Act i. Sc. 1):--
“_Gurney._ Good leave, good Philip.
_Bastard._ Philip! sparrow!”
We are told of Cressida, when getting ready to meet her lover, that--
“She fetches her breath so short as a new-ta’en sparrow.”
_Troilus and Cressida_, Act iii. Sc. 2.
Lucio, referring to Angelo, the severe Deputy Duke of Vienna, says:--
“This ungenitured agent will unpeople the province with continency;
sparrows must not build in his house, because they are
lecherous.”--_Measure for Measure_, Act iii. Sc. 2.
Iris tells us that Cupid--
“Swears he will shoot no more, but play with sparrows,
And be a boy right out.”
_Tempest_, Act iv. Sc. 1.
[Sidenote: THE FALL OF A SPARROW.]
In _Troilus and Cressida_, as well as in _Hamlet_, are passages in which
it is evident the poet had in his mind the words of Matthew x. 29:--
“Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? And one of them shall not
fall on the ground without your Father.”
“I will buy nine sparrows for a penny, and his pia mater is not
worth the ninth part of a penny.”--_Troilus and Cressida_, Act ii.
Sc. 1.
“There’s a special providence in the fall of a sparrow.”
_Hamlet_
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