The Ornithology of Shakespeare Part 21

_t.i.tus 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 _t.i.tus 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 Pa.s.sionate 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 th.o.r.n.y bramble p.r.i.c.ks her tender breast.

In warbling melody she spends the night, And moves at once compa.s.sion 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 th.o.r.n.y copses, and builds her nest amongst brambles on the ground. He inquires "whether it be any more than that she placeth some p.r.i.c.kles on the outside of her nest, or roosteth in th.o.r.n.y, p.r.i.c.kly 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 circ.u.mstance, 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 circ.u.mstance, 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 compa.s.s and brilliancy."[73]

[Sidenote: THE LARK,]

The nightingale has not more happily inspired our poets than the Lark (_Alauda arvensis_). Chaucer, Spenser, Milton, Sh.e.l.ley, 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 ill.u.s.trated in the following lines:--

"La gentille alouette avec son tire-lire, Tire-lire, a lire, et tirelirau, tire Vers la voute du ciel, puis son vol vers ce lieu Vire, et desire 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."