Chapter 5 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.

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:-

[MIDI]

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

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.

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.

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

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

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 vo?te du ciel, puis son vol vers ce lieu

Vire, et désire dire adieu Dieu, adieu Dieu."

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 Ph?bus '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.

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 Ph?bus, 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).

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.

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.

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."

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.

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.

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."

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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, Act v. Sc. 2.

Again, in the following lines, there is an evident allusion to Psalm cxlvii. 9 ("He feedeth the young ravens that call upon him"):-

"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.

THE HEDGE-SPARROW.

In Macbeth (Act i. Sc. 2), and Midsummer Night's Dream (Act iii. Sc. 1), the sparrow is mentioned; and the following passage in Henry IV. will doubtless be remembered by all readers of Shakespeare's Plays:-

"Falstaff. ... "That sprightly Scot of Scots, Douglas, that runs o' horseback up a hill perpendicular.

P. Henry. He that rides at high speed, and with his pistol kills a sparrow flying.

Falstaff. You have hit it.

P. Henry. So did he never the sparrow."-Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4.

The Fool in King Lear reminds us that it is in the hedge-sparrow's nest that the Cuckoo (Cuculus canorus) frequently deposits her egg:-

"For you know, nuncle, the hedge-sparrow fed the cuckoo so long, that it had its head bit off by its young."-King Lear, Act i. Sc. 4.

Mr. Guest, in adopting the reading of the first folio, observes (Phil. Pro., i. 280) that "in the dialects of the North-western counties, formerly it was sometimes used for its. So in the passage just quoted we have 'For you know,' &c., 'that its had it head bit off by it young;' that is, that it has had its head, not that it had its head, as the modern editors give the passage, after the second folio."

"So likewise, long before its was generally received, we have it self commonly printed in two words, evidently under the impression that it was a possessive of the same syntactical force with the pronouns in my self, your self, her self."78

So in Timon of Athens (Act v. Sc. 1), we have-

"The public body····

····feeling in itself

A lack of Timon's aid, hath sense withal

Of it own fall."

Again, in Winter's Tale (Act ii. Sc. 3):-

... "to it own protection."

And-

"The innocent milk in it most innocent mouth."

Winters Tale, Act iii. Sc. 2.

THE HEDGE-SPARROW AND CUCKOO.

The popular notion referred to by the poet in King Lear, is again mentioned by Worcester in Henry IV.-

"And, being fed by us, you us'd us so

As that ungentle gull, the cuckoo's bird,79

Useth the sparrow; did oppress our nest,

Grew by our feeding to so great a bulk,

That even our love durst not come near your sight,

For fear of swallowing."

Henry IV. Part I. Act v. Sc. 1.

The ingratitude of the young cuckoo, which is said to turn out the young of its foster parent as soon as it is sufficiently strong, has given rise in France to the proverb "Ingrat comme un coucou."

The word "gull" above mentioned is usually applied to the person "gulled," i.e. beguiled. Here it must either mean the "guller," or it must have a special application to the voracity of the cuckoo, as the sea-gull is supposed to be so called from gulo-ōnis.

We gather from Decker's "English Villanies" that formerly the sharpers termed their gang a warren, and their simple victims rabbit-suckers, or conies. At other times their confederates were called bird-catchers, and their prey gulls; and hence it was common to say of any person who had been swindled or hoaxed, that he was coney-catched or gulled.

"Why, 'tis a gull, a fool!"-Henry V. Act iii. Sc. 6.

In a subsequent chapter we shall have occasion to refer to various other passages in which the word gull is thus employed. But to return to the cuckoo, and its foster parent the hedge-sparrow:-

"Why should the worm intrude the maiden bud,

Or hateful cuckoos hatch in sparrows' nests?"-Lucrece.

The solution of this question is the more puzzling from the fact that this parasitical habit is not common to all species of the genus cuckoo. An American species builds a nest for itself, and hatches its own eggs.

THE CUCKOO.

The habits of our English bird must always be as much a marvel to us as its remarkable voice.

"He knows me, as the blind man knows the cuckoo,

By the bad voice."

Merchant of Venice, Act v. Sc. 1.

"The plain song cuckoo gray,

Whose note full many a man doth mark,

And dares not answer, nay-

for, indeed, who would set his wish to so foolish a bird? who would give a bird the lie, though he cry 'cuckoo' never so?"-Midsummer Night's Dream, Act iii. Sc. 1.

This passage always brings to our recollection those beautiful lines which Wordsworth addressed "To the Cuckoo," and which must be so well known to all.

The cuckoo, as long ago remarked by John Heywood,80 begins to sing early in the season with the interval of a minor third; the bird then proceeds to a major third, next to a fourth, then a fifth, after which its voice breaks, without attaining a minor sixth. It may, therefore, be said to have done much for musical science, because from this bird has been derived the minor scale, the origin of which has puzzled so many; the cuckoo's couplet being the minor third sung downwards. Kircher, however,81 gives it thus:-

[MIDI]

In Gardiner's "Music of Nature" it is rendered as follows:-

Cuc-koo, Cuc-koo.

[MIDI]

A friend of Gilbert White's found upon trial that the note of the cuckoo varies in different individuals. About Selborne Wood he found they were mostly in D. He heard two sing together, the one in D, the other in D sharp, which made a very disagreeable duet. He afterwards heard one in D sharp, and about Wolmer Forest some in C.

Gungl, in his "Cuckoo Galop," gives the note of the cuckoo as B natural and G sharp. Dr. Arne, in his music to the cuckoo's song in Love's Labour's Lost, gives it as C natural and G.

And now "will you hear the dialogue that the two learned men have compiled in praise of the owl and the cuckoo? This side is Hiems, Winter; this Ver, the Spring; the one maintained by the owl, the other by the cuckoo.

"Ver, begin:-

I.

"When daisies pied,82 and violets blue,

And lady-smocks83 fall silver white,

And cuckoo-buds84 of yellow hue,

Do paint the meadows with delight;

The cuckoo then, on every tree,

Mocks married men, for thus sings he,

Cuckoo;

Cuckoo, cuckoo, O word of fear,

Unpleasing to a married ear.

II.

When shepherds pipe on oaten straws,

And merry larks are ploughmen's clocks;

When turtles tread, and rooks, and daws;

And maidens bleach their summer smocks;

The cuckoo then, on every tree,

Mocks married men, for thus sings he,

Cuckoo;

Cuckoo, cuckoo, O word of fear,

Unpleasing to a married ear."

In the old copies the four first lines of the first stanza are arranged in couplets thus:-

"When daisies pied, and violets blue,

And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue,

And lady-smocks all silver white,

Do paint the meadows with delight."

But, as in all the other stanzas the rhymes are alternate, this was most probably an error of the compositor. The transposition now generally adopted was first made by Theobald.

The notion which couples the name of the cuckoo with the character of the man whose wife is unfaithful to him, appears to have been derived from the Romans, and is first found in the middle ages in France, and in the countries of which the modern language is derived from the Latin. We are not aware that it existed originally amongst the Teutonic race, and we have doubtless received it from the Normans. The opinion that the cuckoo made no nest of its own, but laid its eggs in that of another bird, which brought up the young cuckoo to the detriment of its own offspring, was well-known to the ancients, and is mentioned by Aristotle and Pliny.

So in Antony and Cleopatra (Act ii. Sc. 6):-

"Thou dost o'ercount me of my father's house;

But since the cuckoo builds not for himself,

Remain in 't as thou may'st."

But the ancients more correctly gave the name of the bird, not to the husband of the faithless wife, but to her paramour, who might justly be supposed to be acting the part of the cuckoo. They gave the name of the bird in whose nest the cuckoo's eggs were usually deposited-"curruca"-to the husband. It is not quite clear how, in the passage from classic to medi?val, the application of the term was transferred to the husband.85 In allusion to this are the following lines of Shakespeare:-

"For I the ballad will repeat,

Which men full true will find;

Your marriage comes by destiny,

Your cuckoo sings by kind."

All's Well that Ends Well, Act i. Sc. 3.

This would appear to be only a new version of an old proverb, for in "Grange's Garden," 4to, 1577, we have-

"Content yourself as well as I,

Let reason rule your minde,

As cuckoldes come by destinie,

So cuckowes sing by kinde."

CUCKOO SONGS.

If Shakespeare is to be believed, marriage is not the only thing that goes by destiny:-

"The ancient saying is no heresy,

Hanging and wiving goes by destiny."

Merchant of Venice, Act ii. Sc. 9.

King Henry IV., alluding to his predecessor, says:-

"So when he had occasion to be seen,

He was but as the cuckoo is in June,

Heard, not regarded."

Henry IV. Part I. Act iii. Sc. 2.

For in June the cuckoo has been in song for a month, and is therefore less noticed than on its first arrival in April, when listened to as the harbinger of Spring.

Apropos of the cuckoo's song, the following ballad is considered to be the earliest in the English language now extant. Its date is about the latter part of the reign of Henry III., and it affords a curious example of the alterations which our language has undergone since that time; while the descriptions, which breathe of rural sights and sounds, show that nature has suffered no change:-

"Sumer is icumen in,

Lhudè sing cuccu;

Groweth sed and bloweth med,

And springeth the wdè nu;

Sing cuccu.

Awe bleteth after lamb,

Lhouth after calvè cu;

Bulluc sterteth, buckè verteth,

Murie sing cuccu;

Cuccu, cuccu;

Wel singes thu cuccu,

Ne swik thu naver nu."

Summer is come in,

Loud sing cuckoo;

The seed groweth and the mead bloweth,

And the wood shoots now;

Sing cuckoo.

The ewe bleats after the lamb,

The cow lows after the calf;

The bullock starts, the buck verts,

Merrily sing cuckoo;

Cuckoo, cuckoo;

Well singest thou cuckoo,

Mayest thou never cease.

This song is preserved amongst the Harleian MSS., No. 978, and is remarkable for being accompanied with musical notes, and as being the oldest sample of English secular music.

The Wagtail (Motacilla Yarrellii) has no claim to be included amongst the birds of song, but as the latter are chiefly small birds, and as Shakespeare has only alluded to it once, we may be excused for introducing it in the present chapter.

In an opprobrious sense, the word "wagtail" would doubtless denote a pert, flippant fellow. Kent, in King Lear (Act ii. Sc. 2), says,-

"Spare my grey beard, you wagtail!"

In many parts of the country this bird is called "dishwasher," and the name appears to be of some antiquity. Turbervile, in his "Booke of Falconrie," 1575, speaking of the various kinds of animals and birds whose flesh is proper for hawks to feed on, says (p. 137),-"The flesh of these flesh-crowes (i.e. carrion crows), and of the wagtayles (or dishwasher, as we tearme them, in Latin called Motacilla), and the cormorant, is of euil nourishment and digestion."

BIRD-CATCHING.

While on the subject of small birds in general, and song birds in particular, it will be interesting to glance at the methods which were formerly practised for catching them. These methods were many and various in kind. Springes, gins, bat-fowling, bird-lime, bird-bolts, and birding-pieces are all mentioned by Shakespeare.

The "springe" and the "gin" we shall have occasion to notice later in our remarks upon the Woodcock, for which bird these snares were usually employed. The ancient practice of "bat-fowling," or "bat-folding," is noticed in "The Tempest," Act ii. Sc. 1:-

"He would so, and then go a bat-fowling."

BAT-FOWLING.

In Markham's "Hunger's Prevention," 1600, are some curious directions on this subject, which afford a very good idea of the way in which this sport was practised formerly:-

"For the manner of bat-fowling, it may be used either with nettes or without nettes.

"If you vse it without nettes (which indeed is the most common of the two), you shall then proceed in this manner. First, there shall be one to carry the cresset of fire86 (as was showed for the low-bell), then a certaine number, as two, three, or foure (according to the greatness of your company), and these shall have poales bound with dry round wispes of hay, straw, or such like stuffe, or else bound with pieces of linkes or hurdes dipt in pitch, rosen, grease, or any such like matter that will blaze. Then another company shall be armed with long poales, very rough and bushy at the vpper endes, of which the willow, byrche, or long hazell are best, but indeede according as the country will afford, so you must be content to take.

"Thus being prepared, and comming into the bushy or rough grounde, where the haunts of byrdes are, you shall then first kindle some of your fiers, as halfe or a third part, according as your prouision is, and then with your other bushy and rough poales you shall beat the bushes, trees, and haunts of the birds, to enforce them to rise, which done you shall see the birds which are raysed, to flye and playe about the lights and flames of the fier, for it is their nature through their amazednesse and affright at the strangenes of the light and the extreame darknesse round about it, not to depart from it, but, as it were, almost to scorch their wings in the same: so that those whice haue the rough bushye poales may (at their pleasures) beat them down with the same and so take them. Thus you may spend as much of the night as is darke, for longer is not conuenient, and doubtlesse you shall find much pastime, and take great store of birds, and in this you shall obserue all the obseruations formerly treated of in the Low-bell; especially that of silence, until your lights be kindled, but then you may use your pleasure, for the noyse and the light when they are heard and scene afarre of, they make the byrdes sit the faster and surer.

"The byrdes which are commonly taken by this labour or exercise are, for the most part, the rookes, ring-doues, blackbirdes, throstles, feldyfares, linnets, bulfinches, and all other byrdes whatsouer that pearch or sit vpon small boughes or bushes."

The term "bat-fowling," however, had another signification in Shakespeare's day, and it may have been in this secondary sense that it is used in the last quotation. It was a slang word for a particular mode of cheating, just as other modes, in the same age, were known as "gull-groping," "sheep-shearing," "lime-twigging," "spoon-dropping," "stone-carrying," &c.

"Bat-fowling" was practised about dusk, when the rogue pretended to have dropped a ring or a jewel at the door of some well-furnished shop, and, going in, asked the apprentice of the house to light his candle to look for it. After some peering about, the bat-fowler would drop the candle, as if by accident.

"Now, I pray you, good young man," he would say, "do so much as light the candle again." While the boy was away the rogue plundered the shop, and having stole everything he could find, stole away himself.87

BIRD-LIME.

"Birdlime," which, as most people know, is made from the bark of the holly, has long been in use for taking small birds. Shakespeare makes frequent mention of it:-

"The bird that hath been limed in a bush,

With trembling wings misdoubteth every bush;

And I, the hapless mate to one sweet bird,

Have now the fatal object in my eye

Where my poor young was lim'd, was caught and kill'd."

Henry VI. Part III. Act v. Sc. 6.

A similar idea will be found in Lucrece:-

"Birds never lim'd, no secret bushes fear."

Again-

"They are limed with the twigs that threaten them."

All's Well that ends Well, Act iii. Sc. 5.

And-

"She's limed, I warrant you."

Much Ado, Act iii. Sc. 1.

Suffolk, speaking to Queen Margaret of Duke Humphrey's wife, says:-

"Madam, myself have lim'd a bush for her,

And plac'd a quire of such enticing birds,

That she will light to listen to their lays,

And never mount to trouble you again."

Henry VI. Part II. Act i. Sc. 3.

And the Duchess of Gloucester, addressing her husband, warns him that-

... "York and impious Beaufort, that false priest,

Have all lim'd bushes to betray thy wings,

And, fly thou how thou cans't, they'll tangle thee."

Henry VI. Part II. Act ii. Sc. 4.

Further allusions to the use of birdlime will be found in Othello (Act ii. Sc. 1), and Twelfth Night (Act iii. Sc. 4).

Now-a-days the practice is to set up a stuffed bird of the species required against a tree by means of a wire, and surround it with three or four other wires well smeared with birdlime, placing a live call-bird in a small dark cage at the foot of the tree to attract the attention of the wild birds. These latter, on hearing the notes of the captive, fly towards the spot, and deceived by the appearance of the stuffed specimen, perch close to it upon a limed wire and are caught, the owner of the snare generally coming out of ambush to take them before they have time to free themselves.

BIRD-TRAPS.

A simple and effective bird-trap was made as follows:-

Procure a square frame covered on one side with wire netting, as shown in the woodcut.

Tie each end of a pliant stick to two corners of the frame, to form a hoop. Cut a straight stick, forked at one end, and a shorter pliant stick.

Lift the front of the trap; place the forked stick in an upright position against the outside of the front, and also outside the hoop. Insert one end of pliant twig between fork and front, and after raising hoop about two inches, insert the other end of the twig, so as to rest against the hoop, and press outwards. This will hold the hoop up. A bird, on approaching the trap, hops on the hoop to get at the grain within it, when the hoop will go down with the weight and let go the twig, which being pliant flies out, and the fork (being only outside the front) of course falls, and so does the trap.

BIRD-BOLTS.

The "bird bolts" mentioned by Shakespeare in Twelfth Night (Act i. Sc. 5), Love's Labour's Lost (Act iv. Sc. 3), and Much Ado about Nothing (Act i. Sc. 1), were the "bolts," or "quarrels" as they were sometimes called, which were shot from the cross-bow, or "stone-bow," Twelfth Night (Act ii. Sc. 5). The latter was simply a cross-bow made for propelling stones or bullets, in contradistinction to a bow that shot arrows. Sir John Bramston, in his Autobiography (p. 108) says:-"Litle more than a yeare after I maried, I and my wife being at Skreenes with my father (the plague being soe in London, and my building not finished), I had exercised myself with a stone-bow, and a spar-hawke at the bush."

There were two denominations of cross-bows-latches and prodds. The former were the military weapons, and were bent with one or both feet, by putting them into a kind of stirrup at the extremity, and then drawing the cord upward with the hands; the latter were chiefly used for sporting purposes. They were bent with the hand, by means of a small steel lever, called the goat's-foot, on account of its being forked or cloven on the side that rested on the cross-bow and the cord. The bow itself was usually made of steel, though sometimes of wood or horn.88

The missiles discharged from them were not only arrows, which were shorter and stouter than those of the long-bow, but also bolts (bolzen, German; quarreaux, or carrieaux, French; quadrelli, Latin, corrupted into "quarrels," from their pyramidal form), and also stones or leaden balls.

Apropos of "bolts," who does not remember Oberon's poetical story of the wild pansy (Viola tricolor) marked by Cupid's "bolt?"

"Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell:

It fell upon a little western flower,-

Before, milk white, now purple with love's wound,-

And maidens call it 'Love-in-idleness.'"

Midsummer Night's Dream, Act ii. Sc. 1.

BIRDING-PIECES.

The "birding-pieces" which Mrs. Ford tells Falstaff are always "discharged" up the chimney, were no doubt the old-fashioned fowling-pieces which were in use in those days.

According to Sir S. D. Scott,89 the "birding-piece" was identical with the "snap-hance," the early form of that process of ignition-the flint and steel lock-which has survived nearly 300 years, and specimens of which, although now becoming rare, may occasionally be met with in use, even at the present day. It was a Dutch invention; and is said to have been brought into use by marauders, whom the Dutch called snap-haans, or poultry stealers. The light from the burning match, which necessarily accompanied the match-lock, exposed them to detection; and the wheel-lock was an article too expensive for them to purchase, as well as being liable to get out of order; so this lock was devised, and was suggested, no doubt, by the wheel-lock. It consisted in the substitution of flint for pyrites, and a furrowed plate of steel in lieu of the wheel. When the trigger was pulled, it brought this jagged piece of steel in collision with the flint, which threw down its shower of sparks into the open pan, and lighted the priming. This improvement apparently took place about the close of the sixteenth century.

There is a very early "snap-hance" in the Tower Collection, numbered 12/79. It is a "birding-piece" of Prince Charles, afterwards King Charles I., date 1614, and furnishes a good illustration of the form of gun in use in Shakespeare's day. It is engraved both on lock and barrel. The butt is remarkably thin; the length of the whole arm is four feet two inches, and was consequently adapted for a youth like the Prince, who, at the date above mentioned, was fourteen years of age.

DANGER.

On looking at the curious specimens which are still treasured up as heirlooms, or in museums, one cannot help thinking that the person who pulled the trigger must have been in far greater danger than the bird at which he aimed.