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diff --git a/43341-0.txt b/43341-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..97569ce --- /dev/null +++ b/43341-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8294 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 43341 *** + +Transcriber's note: + +Some presumed printer's errors were corrected. The following is a list +of changes made from the original. The first line shows the original +text; the second line is the corrected text as it appears in this +e-book. + + A. E (p. viii) + A. E. + + and. thou (p. 105) + and, thou + + resemblance (p. 126) + resemblance. + + + Page 14 (p. 315) + Page 74 + + Don Jean (Footnote 29) + Don Juan + +Italics are surrounded with _ _ and Greek words are transliterated and +marked with # #. The oe ligature has been replaced in this version by +the letters oe. + + + [Illustration: THE BIRD.] + + + + +THE BIRD + +BY + +JULES MICHELET. + +WITH 210 ILLUSTRATIONS BY GIACOMELLI. + + [Illustration] + +LONDON: + +T. NELSON AND SONS, PATERNOSTER ROW; +EDINBURGH; AND NEW YORK. + +1868. + + + + + [Illustration] + + + + +To Madame Michelet. + +_I dedicate to thee what is really thine own: three books of the +fireside, sprung from our sweet evening talk_,-- + +THE BIRD--THE INSECT--THE SEA. + +_Thou alone didst inspire them. Without thee I should have pursued, +ever in my own track, the rude path of human history._ + +_Thou alone didst prepare them. I received from thy hands the rich +harvest of Nature._ + +_And thou alone didst crown them, placing on the accomplished work the +sacred flower which blesses them._ + + _J. MICHELET._ + + [Illustration] + + + + + [Illustration] + + + + +Translator's Preface. + + +"L'Oiseau," or "The Bird," was first published in 1856. It has since +been followed by "L'Insecte" and "La Mer;" the three works forming a +trilogy which few writers have surpassed in grace of style, beauty of +description, and suggestiveness of sentiment. "L'Oiseau" may be briefly +described as an eloquent defence of the Bird in its relation to man, +and a poetical exposition of the attractiveness of Natural History. It +is animated by a fine and tender spirit, and written with an inimitable +charm of language. + +In submitting the following translation to the English public, I +am conscious of an urgent need that I should apologize for its +shortcomings. It is no easy matter to do justice to Michelet in +English; yet, if I have failed to convey a just idea of his beauties +of expression, if I have suffered most of the undefinable _aroma_ of +his style to escape, I believe I have rendered his meaning faithfully, +without exaggeration or diminution. I have endeavoured to preserve, +as far as possible, his more characteristic peculiarities, and even +mannerisms, carrying the _literalness_ of my version to an extent which +some critics, perhaps, will be disposed to censure. But in copying the +masterpiece of a great artist, what we ask of the copyist is, that +he will reproduce every effect of light and shade with the severest +accuracy; and, in the translation of a noble work from one language to +another, the public have a right to demand the same exact adherence to +the original. They want to see as much of the author as they can, and +as little as may be of the translator. + +The present version is from the eighth edition of "L'Oiseau," and is +adorned with all the original Illustrations. + + A. E. + + [Illustration] + + + + + [Illustration] + + + + + Contents. + + + INTRODUCTION. + Page + HOW THE AUTHOR WAS LED TO THE STUDY OF NATURE, 13 + + + PART FIRST. + + THE EGG, 63 + + THE POLE--AQUATIC BIRDS, 71 + + THE WING, 81 + + THE FIRST FLUTTERINGS OF THE WING, 91 + + TRIUMPH OF THE WING--THE FRIGATE BIRD, 101 + + THE SHORES--DECAY OF CERTAIN SPECIES, 111 + + THE HERONRIES OF AMERICA--WILSON, THE ORNITHOLOGIST, 121 + + THE COMBAT--THE TROPICAL REGIONS, 131 + + PURIFICATION, 143 + + DEATH--BIRDS OF PREY (THE RAPTORES), 153 + + + PART SECOND. + + THE LIGHT--THE NIGHT, 171 + + STORM AND WINTER--MIGRATIONS, 181 + + MIGRATIONS, _Continued_--THE SWALLOW, 193 + + HARMONIES OF THE TEMPERATE ZONE, 205 + + THE BIRD AS THE LABOURER OF MAN, 213 + + LABOUR--THE WOODPECKER, 223 + + THE SONG, 235 + + THE NEST--ARCHITECTURE OF BIRDS, 247 + + THE COMMUNITIES OF BIRDS--ESSAYS AT A REPUBLIC, 257 + + EDUCATION, 265 + + THE NIGHTINGALE--ART AND THE INFINITE, 277 + + THE NIGHTINGALE, _Continued_, 287 + + CONCLUSION, 297 + + ILLUSTRATIVE NOTES, 311 + + [Illustration] + + + + + [Illustration: HOW THE AUTHOR WAS LED + TO + THE STUDY OF NATURE.] + + + + + [Illustration] + + + + +THE BIRD. + + + + +How the Author was led to the Study of Nature. + + +To my faithful friend, the Public, who has listened to me for so +long a period without disfavour, I owe a confession of the peculiar +circumstances which, while not leading me altogether astray from +history, have induced me to devote myself to the natural sciences. + +The book which I now publish may be described as the offspring of the +domestic circle and the home fireside. It is from our hours of rest, +our afternoon conversations, our winter readings, our summer gossips, +that this book, if it be a book, has been gradually evolved. + +Two studious persons, naturally reunited after a day's toil, put +together their gleanings, and refreshed their hearts by this closing +evening feast. + +Am I saying that we have had no other assistance? To make such a +statement would be unjust, ungrateful. The domesticated swallows which +lodged under our roof mingled in our conversation. The homely robin, +fluttering around me, interjected his tender notes, and sometimes the +nightingale suspended it by her solemn music. + + [Illustration] + +The burden of the time, life, labour, the violent fluctuations of our +era, the dispersion of a world of intelligence in which we lived, and +to which nothing has succeeded, weighed heavily upon me. The arduous +toils of history found occasional relaxation in friendly instruction. +These pauses, however, are only periods of silence. Where shall we seek +repose or moral invigoration, if not of nature? + +The mighty eighteenth century, which included a thousand years of +struggle, rested at its setting on the amiable and consoling, though +scientifically feeble book of Bernardin de St. Pierre.[1] It ended with +that pathetic speech of Ramond's: "So many irreparable losses lamented +in the bosom of nature!" + +We, whatever we had lost, asked of solitude something more than tears, +something more than the dittany[2] which softens wounded hearts. +We sought in it a panacea for continual progress, a draught from +inexhaustible fountains, a new strength, and--wings. + +This work, whatever its character, possesses at least the distinction +of having entered upon life under the usual conditions of existence. It +results from the intimate communion of two souls; and is in all things +itself uniform and harmonious because the offspring of two different +principles. + + [Illustration] + +Of the two souls to which it owes its existence, one was the more +powerfully attracted to natural studies by the fact that, in a +certain sense, it had been born among them, and had ever preserved +their fragrance and sweet savour. The other was so much the more +strongly impelled towards them because it had always been separated by +circumstances, and detained in the rugged ways of human history. + +History never releases its slave. He who has once drunk of its sharp +strong wine will drink thereof till his death. I could not wrench +myself from it even in days of suffering. When the sorrows of the +past blended with those of the present, and when on the ruins of our +fortunes I inscribed "ninety-three," my health might fail, but not +my soul, my will. All day I applied myself to this last duty, and +pressed forward among the thorns. In the evening I listened--at first +not without effort--to the peaceful narrative of some naturalist or +traveller. I listened and I admired, unable as yet to console myself, +or to escape from my thoughts, but, at all events, keeping them under +control, and preventing any anxieties and any mental storms from +disturbing this innocent tranquillity. + +Not that I was insensible to the sublime legends of those heroic men +whose labours and enterprise have so largely benefited humanity. The +great national patriots whose history I was relating were the nearest +of kindred to these cosmopolitan patriots, these citizens of the world. + + [Illustration] + +For myself, I had long hailed, with all my heart, the great French +Revolution which had occurred in the Natural Sciences--the era of +Lamarck and of Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire,[3] so fertile in method, the +mighty restorers of all science. With what happiness I traced their +features in their legitimate sons--those ingenious children who have +inherited their intellect! + + [Illustration] + +At their head let me name the amiable and original author of the "Monde +des Oiseaux,"[4] whom the world has long recognized as one of the most +solid, if not also the most amusing, of naturalists. I shall refer to +him more than once; but I hasten, on the threshold of my book, to pay +this preliminary homage to a truly great observer, who, in all that +concerns his own observations, is as weighty, as _special_, as Wilson +or Audubon. + +He has wronged himself by saying that, in his noble work, "he has only +sought a pretext for a discourse on man." On the contrary, numerous +pages demonstrate that, apart from all analogy, he has loved and +studied the Bird for its own sake. And it is for this reason that he +has surrounded it with so many legends, with such vivid and profound +personifications. Each bird which Toussenel treats of is now, and will +for ever remain, a person. + + [Illustration] + +Nevertheless, the book now before the reader starts from a point of +view which differs in all things from that of our illustrious master. + +A point of view by no means contrary, yet symmetrically opposed, to his. + +For I, as much as possible, seeking only the bird _in_ the bird, avoid +the human analogy. With the exception of two chapters, I have written +as if only the bird existed, as if man had never been. + +Man! we have already met with him sufficiently often in other places. +Here, on the contrary, we have sought an _alibi_ from the human world, +from the profound solitude and desolation of ancient days. + +Man could not have lived without the bird, which alone could save him +from the insect and the reptile; but the bird had lived without man. + +Man or no man, the eagle had reigned on his Alpine throne. The swallow +would not the less have performed her yearly migration. The frigate +bird,[5] unseen by human eyes, had still hovered over the lonely +ocean-waters. Without waiting for human listeners, and with all the +greater security, the nightingale had still chanted in the forest his +sublime hymn. And for whom? For her whom he loves, for his offspring, +for the woodlands, and, finally, for himself, his most fastidious +auditor. + + [Illustration] + +Another difference between this book and that of Toussenel's is, that, +harmonious as he is, and a disciple of the gentle Fourier, he is not +the less a _sportsman_. In every page the military calling of the +Lorraine is clearly visible. + +My book, on the contrary, is a book of peace, written specifically in +hatred of sport. + +Hunt the eagle and the lion, if you will; but do not hunt the weak. + +The devout faith which we cherish at heart, and which we teach in +these pages, is, that man will peaceably subdue the whole earth, when +he shall gradually perceive that every adopted animal, accustomed +to a domesticated life, or at least to that degree of friendship or +neighbourliness of which its nature is capable, will be a hundred times +more useful to him than if he had simply cut its throat. + +Man will not be truly man--we return to this topic at the close of our +volume--until he shall labour seriously to accomplish the mission which +the earth expects of him: + +The pacification and harmonious communion of all living nature. + +"A woman's dreams!" you exclaim. What matters that? + +Since a woman's heart breathes in this book, I see no reason to reject +the reproach. We accept it as an eulogy. Patience and gentleness, +tenderness and pity, and maternal warmth--these are the things which +beget, preserve, develop a living creation. + +May this, in due time, become not a book, but a reality! Then, haply, +it shall prove suggestive, and others derive from it their inspiration. + +The reader, _au reste_, will better understand the character of the +work, if he will take the trouble to read the few pages which follow, +and which I transcribe word for word. [The succeeding section, as the +reader will perceive, is written by Madame Michelet.] + + [Illustration] + + [Illustration] + +"I was born in the country, where I have passed two-thirds of my +life-time. I feel myself constantly recalled to it, both by the charm +of early habits, by natural sensibilities, and also, undoubtedly, by +the dear memories of my father, who bred me among its shades, and was +the object of my life's worship. + +"Owing to my mother's illness, I was nursed for a considerable period +by some honest peasants, who loved me as their own child. I was, in +truth, their daughter; and my brothers, struck by my rustic ways, +called me _the Shepherdess_. + +"My father resided at no great distance from the town, in a very +pleasant mansion, which he had purchased, built, and surrounded by +plantations, in the hope that the charms of the spot might console his +young wife for the sublime American nature she had recently quitted. +The house, well exposed on the east and south, saw the morning sun rise +on a vine-clad slope, and turn, before its meridian heats, towards the +remote summits of the Pyrenees, which were visible in clear weather. +The young elm-trees of our own France, mingled with American acacias, +rose-laurels, and young cypresses, interrupted its full flood of light, +and transmitted to us a softened radiance. + +"On our right, a thicket of oaks, inclosed with a dense hedge, +sheltered us from the north, and from the keen wind of the Cantal. Far +away, on the left, swept the green meadows and the corn-fields. Through +the broom, and in the shade of some tall trees, flowed a brooklet--a +thin thread of limpid water, defined against the evening horizon by a +small belt of haze which ran along its border. + +"The climate is intermediate. In the valley, which is that of the +Tarn, and which shares the mildness of the Garonne and the severity of +Auvergne, we find none of those southern products common everywhere +around Bordeaux. But the mulberry, and the melting perfumed peach, the +juicy grape, the sugared fig, and the melon, growing in the open air, +testify that we are in the south. Fruits superabounded with us; one +portion of the estate was an immense vineyard. + +"Memory vividly recalls to me all the charms of this locality, and its +varied character. It was never otherwise than grave and melancholy in +itself, and it impressed these feelings on all about it. My father, +though lively and agreeable, was a man already aged, and of uncertain +health. My mother, young, beautiful, austere, had the queenly bearing +of the North American, with a prudence and an active economy very +rare in Creoles. The estate which we occupied formerly belonged to a +Protestant family, and after passing through many hands before it fell +into ours, still retained the graves of its ancient owners--simple +hillocks of turf, where the proscribed had enshrined their dead under +a thick grove of oaks. I need hardly say, that these trees and these +tombs, consecrated by their very oblivion, were religiously respected +by my father. Each grave was marked out by rose-bushes, which his own +hands had planted. These sweet odours, these bright blossoms, concealed +the gloom of death, while suffering, nevertheless, something of its +melancholy to remain. Thither, then, we were drawn, and as it were in +spite of ourselves, at evening time. Overcome by emotion, we often +mourned over the departed; and, at each falling star, exclaimed, 'It is +a soul which passes!'[6] + +"In this living country-side, among alternate joys and pains, I lived +for ten years--from four to fourteen. I had no comrades. My sister, +five years older than myself, was the companion of my mother when I was +still but a little girl. My brothers, numerous enough to play among +themselves without my help, often left me all alone in the hours of +recreation. If they ran off to the fields, I could only follow them +with my eyes. I passed, then, many solitary hours in wandering near the +house, and in the long garden alleys. There I acquired, in spite of a +natural vivacity, habits of contemplation. At the bottom of my dreams +I began to feel the Infinite: I had glimpses of God, of the paternal +divinity of nature, which regards with equal tenderness the blade of +grass and the star. In this I found the chief source of consolation; +nay, more, let me say, of happiness. + +"Our abode would have offered to an observant mind a very agreeable +field of study. All creatures under its benevolent protection seemed +to find an asylum. We had a fine fish-pond near the house, but no +dove-cot; for my parents could not endure the idea of dooming creatures +to slavery whose life is all movement and freedom. Dogs, cats, rabbits, +guinea-pigs, lived together in concord. The tame chickens, the pigeons, +followed my mother everywhere, and fed from her hand. The sparrows +built their nests among us; the swallows even brooded under our barns; +they flew into our very chambers, and returned with each succeeding +spring to the shelter of our roof. + +"How often, too, have I found, in the goldfinches' nests torn from our +cypress-trees by rude autumnal winds, fragments of my summer-robes +buried in the sand! Beloved birds, which I then sheltered all +unwittingly in a fold of my vestment, ye have to-day a surer shelter in +my heart, but ye know it not! + +"Our nightingales, less domesticated, wove their nests in the lonely +hedge-rows; but, confident of a generous welcome, they came to our +threshold a hundred times a-day, and besought from my mother, for +themselves and their family, the silk-worms which had perished. + +"In the depths of the wood the woodpecker laboured obstinately at the +venerable trunks; one might hear him at his task when all other sounds +had ceased. We listened in trembling silence to the mysterious blows of +that indefatigable workman mingling with the owl's slow and lamentable +voice. + +"It was my highest ambition to have a bird all to myself--a +turtle-dove. Those of my mother's--so familiar, so plaintive, so +tenderly resigned at breeding-time--attracted me strongly towards them. +If a young girl feels like a mother for the doll which she dresses, how +much more so for a living creature which responds to her caresses! I +would have given everything for this treasure. But it was not to be so; +and the dove was not my first love. + +"The first was a flower, whose name I do not know. + +"I had a small garden, situated under an enormous fig-tree, whose humid +shades rendered useless all my cultivation. Feeling very sad and sorely +discouraged, I descried one morning, on a pale-green stem, a beautiful +little golden blossom. Very little, trembling at the lightest breath, +its feeble stalk issued from a small basin excavated by the rains. +Seeing it there, and always trembling, I supposed it was cold, and +provided it with a canopy of leaves. How shall I express the transports +which this discovery awakened? I alone knew of its existence; I alone +possessed it. All day we could do nothing but gaze at each other. In +the evening I glided to its side, my heart full of emotion. We spoke +little, for fear of betraying ourselves. But ah! what tender kisses +before the last adieu! These joys endured but three days. One afternoon +my flower folded itself up slowly, never again to re-open. There was an +end to its love. + +"I kept to myself my keen regret, as I had kept my happiness. No other +flower could have consoled me; a life more full of life was needed to +restore the freedom of my soul. + +"Every year my good nurse came to see me, invariably bringing some +little present. On one occasion, with a mysterious air, she said to me, +'Put thy hand in my basket.' I did so, expecting to find some fruit, +but felt a silken fur, and something trembling. Ah! it is a rabbit! +Seizing it, I ran in all directions to announce the news. I hugged the +poor animal with a convulsive joy, which nearly proved fatal to it. +My head was troubled with giddiness. I could not eat. My sleep was +disturbed by painful dreams. I saw my rabbit dying; I was unable to +move a single step to succour it. Oh! how beautiful it was, my rabbit, +with its pink nose, and its fur as polished as a mirror! Its large +pearled ears, which were constantly in motion, its fantastic gambols, +had, I confess, a share of my admiration. As soon as the morning +dawned, I escaped from my mother's bed to visit my favourite, and carry +it a green leaf or two. There it sat, and gravely ate the leaves, +casting upon me protracted glances, which I thought full of affection; +then, erecting itself on its hind paws, it turned to the sun its +little snow-white belly, and sleeked its fine whiskers with marvellous +dexterity. + +"Nevertheless, slander was busy in its detraction; its face was too +small, said its enemies, and it was very gluttonous. To-day, I might +subscribe to these assertions; but at seven years of age I fought +for the honour of my rabbit! Alas! there was no need to make it the +subject of dispute, it lived so short a time. One Sunday, my mother +having set out for the town with my sister and eldest brother, we were +wandering--we, the little ones--in the enclosure, when a sudden report +broke over our heads. A strange cry, like an infant's first moan, +followed it close at hand. My rabbit had been wounded by a flash of +fire. The unfortunate beast had transgressed beyond the vineyard-hedge, +and a neighbour, having nothing better to do, had amused himself with +shooting at it. + +"I was in time to see it rise up, bleeding. So great was my grief that +I almost choked, utterly unable to sob out a single word. But for my +father, who received me in his arms, and by gentle words gave my full +heart relief, I should have fainted. My limbs yielded under me. Pardon +the tears which this recollection still calls forth. + +"For the first time, and in early youth, I had a revelation of death, +abandonment, desolation. The house, the garden, appeared to me empty +and bare. Do not laugh: my grief was bitter, and all the deeper because +concentrated in myself. + +"Thenceforth, having learned the meaning of death, I began to watch my +father with wistful eyes. I saw, not without terror, that his face was +very pale and his hair white. He would quit us; he would go 'whither +the village-bell summoned him,' to use his oft-repeated phrase. I had +not the strength to conceal my thoughts. Sometimes I flung my arms +around his neck, exclaiming: 'Papa, do not die! oh, never die!' He +embraced me, without replying; but his fine large black eyes were +troubled as they gazed on me. + +"I was attached to him by a thousand ties, by a thousand intimate +relations. I was the daughter of his mature age, of his shattered +health, of his affections. I had not that happy equilibrium which his +other children derived from my mother. My father was transmitted in +me (_passé en moi_). He said so himself: 'How I feel that thou art my +daughter!' + +"Years and life's trials had deprived him of nothing; to his last hour +he retained the vivacity, the aspirations, and even the charm of youth. +Every one felt it without being able to account for it, and all flocked +around him of their own accord--women, children, men. I still see him +in his little study, seated before his small black table, relating his +Odyssey, his long journeys in America, his life in the colonies; one +never grew weary of his stories. A maiden of twenty years, in the last +stage of a pulmonary disease, heard him shortly before her end: she +would fain have listened to him always; implored him to visit her, for +while he was discoursing she forgot her sufferings and her decay, even +the approach of death. + +"This charm I speak of was not that of a clever talker only; it was due +to the great goodness so plainly visible in him. The trials, the life +of adventure and misfortune, which harden so many hearts, had, on the +contrary, but softened his. No man in this generation--a generation +so much agitated, tossed to and fro by so many waves--had undergone +such painful experiences. His father, an Auvergnat, the principal of a +college, then _juge consulaire_ in our most southern city, and finally +summoned to the Assembly of Notables in '88, had all the hard austerity +of his country and his functions, of the school and the tribunals. The +education of that era was cruel, a perpetual chastisement; the more +wit, the more character, the more strength, the more did this education +tend to shatter them, to break them down. My father, of a delicate +and tender nature, could never have survived it, and only escaped by +flying to America, where one of his brothers had previously established +himself. A change of linen was his only fortune, except his youth, +his confidence, his golden dreams of freedom. Thenceforth he always +cherished a peculiar tenderness for that land of liberty; he often +revisited it, and earnestly wished to die there. + +"Called by the needs of business to St. Domingo, he was present in that +island at the great crisis of the reign of Toussaint L'Ouverture. This +truly extraordinary man, who up to his fiftieth year had been a slave, +who comprehended and foresaw everything, did not know how to write, or +to give expression to his ideas. His genius succeeded better in great +actions than in fine speeches. He lacked a hand, a pen, and more--the +young bold heart which shall teach the hero the heroic language, the +words in harmony with the moment and the situation. Toussaint, at his +age, could only utter this noble appeal: 'The First of the Blacks to +the First of the Whites!'[7] Permit me to doubt if it were his. At +least, if he conceived it, it was my father who gave expression to the +idea. + +"He loved my father warmly; he perceived his frankness, and he trusted +him--he, so profoundly mistrustful, dumb with his long slavery, and +secret as the tomb! But who can die without having one day unlocked his +heart? It was my father's misfortune that at certain moments Toussaint +broke his silence, and made him the confidant of dangerous mysteries. +Thenceforth, all was over; he became afraid of the young man, and felt +himself dependent upon him--a new servitude, which could only end with +my father's death. Toussaint threw him into prison, and then, with +a fresh access of fear, would have sacrificed him. Fortunately, the +prisoner was guarded by gratitude; he had been bountiful to many of the +blacks; a negress whom he had protected, warned him of his peril, and +assisted him to escape from it. All his life long he sought that woman, +to show his gratitude towards her; he did not discover her until some +fourteen years afterwards, on his last voyage; she was then living in +the United States. + +"To return: though out of prison, he was not saved. Wandering astray +in the forest, at night, without a guide, he had cause to dread the +Maroons, those implacable enemies of the whites, who would have +killed him, in ignorance that they were murdering the best friend of +their race. Fortune is the boon of youth; he escaped every danger. +Having discovered a good horse, whenever the blacks issued from +their hiding-places, one touch of the spear, a wave of the hat, a +cry: 'Advanced guard of General Toussaint!' and this was enough. At +that formidable name all took to flight, and disappeared as if by +enchantment. + +"Such was the tenderness of my father's soul, that he did not withdraw +his regard from the great man who had misunderstood him. When, at +a later period, he saw him in France, abandoned by everybody, a +wretched prisoner in a fort of the Jura, where he perished of cold and +misery,[8] he alone was faithful to him. Despite his errors, despite +the deeds of violence inseparable from the grand and terrible part +which that man had played, he revered in him the daring pioneer of a +race, the creator of a world. He corresponded with him until his death, +and afterwards with his family. + +"A singular chance ordained that my father should be engaged in the +isle of Elba when the First of the Whites, dethroned in his turn, +arrived to take possession of his miniature kingdom. Heart and +imagination, my father fell captive to this wonderful romance. An +American, and imbued with Republican ideas, he became on this occasion, +and for the second time, the courtier of misfortune. He was the most +intimate of the servants of the Emperor, of his children, of that +accomplished and adored lady who was the charm and happiness of his +exile. He undertook to convey her back to France in the perilous return +of March 1815. This attraction, had there been no obstacle, would +have led him even to St. Helena. As it was, he could not endure the +restoration of the Bourbons, and returned to his beloved America. + +"The New World was not ungrateful, and made the happiness of his +life. He had resigned every official capacity in order to abandon +himself wholly to the more independent career of tuition. He taught +in Louisiana. That colonial France, isolated, sundered by the events +of her mother-land's history, and mingling so many diverse elements +of population, breathes ever the breath of France. Among my father's +pupils was an orphan, of English and German extraction. She came to +him when very young, to learn the first elements of knowledge; she +grew under his hands, and loved him more and more; she found a second +family, a second father; she sympathized with the paternal heart, with +a charm of youthful vivacity which our French of the south preserve in +their mature age. She had but three faults: wealth, beauty, extreme +youth--for she was at least thirty years younger than my father; but +neither of them perceived it, and they never reminded themselves of it. +My mother has been inconsolable for my father's death, and has ever +since worn mourning. + +"My mother longed to see France, and my father, in his pride of her, +was delighted to show to the Old World the brilliant flower he had +gathered in the New. But anxious as he was to maintain this young +Creole lady in the position and with the fortune which she had always +enjoyed, he would not embark until he had accomplished, with her +consent, a religious and holy act. This was the manumission of his +slaves--of those, at least, above the age of twenty-one; the young, +whom he was prevented by the American law from setting free, received +from him their future liberty, and, on attaining their majority, were +to rejoin their parents. He never lost sight of them. They were always +before his eyes; he knew their names, their ages, and their appointed +hour of liberty. In his French home, he took note of these epochs, and +would say, with a glow of happiness, 'To-day, such an one becomes free!' + +"See my father now in his native country, happy in a residence near +his birth-place--building, planting, bringing up his family, the +centre of a young world in which everything sprung from him: the +house, the garden, were his creation; even his wife, whom he had +reared and trained, and whom everybody thought to be his daughter. My +mother was so young that her eldest daughter seemed to be her sister. +Five other children followed, almost in as many successive years, +promptly enwreathing my father with a living garland, which was his +special pride. Few families exhibited a greater variety of tastes and +temperaments; the two worlds were distinctly represented in ours: the +French of the south with the sparkling vivacity of Languedoc--the grave +colonists of Louisiana marked from their birth with the phlegmatic +idiosyncrasies of the American character. + +"It was ordered, however, that, with the exception of the eldest, who +was already my mother's companion and shared with her the management +of the household, the five youngest should receive their education +in common from one master--my father. Notwithstanding his age, he +undertook the duties of preceptor and schoolmaster. He gave up to us +his whole day, from six in the morning until six in the evening. He +reserved for his correspondence, his favourite studies, only the first +hours of morning, or, more truly speaking, the last hours of night. +Retiring to rest very early, he rose every day at three o'clock, +without taking any heed of his pulmonary weakness. First of all, he +threw wide his door, and there, before the stars or the dawn, according +to the season, he blessed God; and God also blessed that venerable +head, silvered by the experiences of life, not by the passions of +humanity. In summer time, after his devotions, he took a short walk in +the garden, and watched the insects and the plants awake. His knowledge +of them was wonderful; and very often, after breakfast, taking me by +the hand, he would describe the nature of each flower, would point out +where each little animal that he had surprised at dawn took refuge. One +of these was a snake, which the sight of my father did not in the least +disconcert; each time that he seated himself near its domicile, it +never failed to put forth its head and peer at him curiously. He alone +knew that it was there, and he told none but me of its retirement; it +remained a secret between us. + +"In those morning-hours everything he met with became a fertile text +for his religious effusions. Without formal phrases, and inspired by +true feeling, he spoke to me of the goodness of God, for whom there is +neither great nor small, but all are brothers in His eyes, and all are +equals. + +"Associated with my brothers in their labours, I also took a part in +those of my mother and my sister. When I put aside my grammar and +arithmetic, it was to take up the needle. + +"Happily for me, our life, naturally blending with that of the fields, +was, whether we willed it or not, frequently varied by charming +incidents which broke the chains of habit. Study has commenced; we +apply ourselves with eagerness to our books; but what now? See, a +storm is coming! the hay will be spoiled. Quick, we must gather it in! +Everybody sets to work; the very children hasten thither; study is +adjourned; we toil courageously, and the day goes by. It is a pity, for +the rain does not fall; the storm has lingered on the Bordeaux side; it +will come to-morrow. + +"At harvest-time we frequently diverted ourselves with gleaning. In +those grand moments of fruition, at once a labour and a festival, all +sedentary application is impossible; one's thoughts are in the fields. +We were constantly escaping out-of-doors, with the lark's swiftness; +we disappeared among the furrows--we little ones concealed by the tall +corn, hidden among the forest of ripe ears. + +"It was well understood that during the vintage there was no time to +think of study: much needed labourers, we lived among the vines; it +was our right. But before the grape ripened, we had numerous other +vintages, those of the fruit-trees--cherries, apricots, peaches. +Even at a later period, the apples and the pears imposed upon us new +and severe labours, in which it was a matter of conscience that our +hands should be employed. And thus, even in winter, these necessities +returned--to act, to laugh, and to do nothing. The last tasks, +occurring in mid-November, were perhaps the most delightful; a light +mist then enfolded everything; I have seen nothing like it elsewhere; +it was a dream, an enchantment. All objects were transfigured under the +wavy folds of the vast pearl-gray canopy which, at the breath of the +warm autumn, lovingly alighted hither and thither, like a farewell kiss. + +"The dignified hospitality of my mother, my father's charm of manner +and piquant conversation, drew upon us also the unforeseen distractions +of visitors from the town, constraining suspensions of our studies, +at which we did not weep. But the great and unceasing visit was from +the poor, who well knew the house and the hand inexhaustibly opened +by charity. All participated in its benefits, even the very animals; +and it was a curious and diverting thing to see the dogs of the +neighbourhood, patiently, silently seated on their hind legs, waiting +until my father should raise his eyes from his book: they felt assured +that he would not resist the mute eloquence of their prayer. My mother, +more reasonable, was inclined to drive away these indiscreet guests who +came at their own invitation. My father felt that he was wrong, and yet +he never failed to throw them stealthily some fragments, which sent +them away satisfied. + +"This they knew perfectly well. One day, a new guest, lean, bristling, +unprepossessing, something between a dog and a wolf, arrived; he was, +in fact, a half-breed of the two species, born in the forests of the +Gresigne. He was very ferocious, very irascible, and bore much too +close a resemblance to his wolfish mother. But, besides this, he was +intelligent, and gifted with a very keen instinct. From the first he +gave himself wholly up to my father, and neither words nor rough usage +could induce him to quit his side. For us he had but little love; and +we repaid him in kind, seizing every opportunity of playing him a +hundred tricks. He ground and gnashed his teeth, though, out of regard +for my father, he abstained from devouring us. To the poor he was +furious, implacable, very dangerous; which decided us on suffering him +to be lost. But there was no such chance. He always came back again. +His new masters would chain him to a post; chains and post, he carried +them all off, and brought them into our house. It was too much for my +father; he would never forsake him. + +"But the cats enjoyed even more of his good graces than the dogs. +This was due to his early education, to the cruel years spent at +college; his brother and himself, beaten and repulsed, between the +harshness of their home and the severities of their school, had found a +consolation in a couple of cats. This predilection was transmitted to +his family--each of us, in childhood, possessed our cat. The gathering +at the fireside was a beautiful spectacle; all the grimalkins, in +furred dignity, sitting majestically under the chairs of their young +masters. One alone was missing from the circle--a poor wretch, too +ugly to figure among the others; he knew his unworthiness, and held +himself aloof, in a wild timidity which nothing was able to conquer. +As in every assembly (such is the piteous malignity of our nature!) +there must be a butt, a scapegoat, who receives all the blows, he, in +ours, filled this unthankful rôle. If there were no blows, at least +there were abundant mockeries: we named him Moquo. Weak, and scantily +provided with fur, he stood in more need than the others of the genial +hearth; but we children filled him with fear: even his comrades, better +clothed in their warm ermine, appeared to esteem him but lightly, +and to look at him askant. Of course, therefore, my father turned to +him, and fondled him; the grateful animal lay down under that beloved +hand, and gained confidence. Wrapped up in his coat, and revived by +its warmth, he would frequently be brought, unseen, to the fireside. +We quickly caught sight of him; and if he showed a hair, or the tip of +an ear, our laughter and our glances threatened him, in spite of my +father. I can still see that shadow gathering itself up--_melting_, +so to speak--in its protector's bosom, closing its eyes, annihilating +itself, well content to see nothing. + +"All that I have read of the Hindus, and their tenderness for nature, +reminds me of my father. He was a Brahmin. More even than the Brahmins +did he love every living thing. He had lived in a time of blood and +war--he had been an eye-witness of the most terrible slaughters of men +that had ever disgraced history; and it seemed as if that frightful +lavishness of the irrecoverable good, which is life, had given him a +respect for _all_ life, an insurmountable aversion to all destruction. + +"This had in time arrived at such an extreme, that he would have +willingly lived upon vegetable food alone. He would have no viands of +blood; they excited his horror. A morsel of chicken, or, more often, an +egg or two, served for his dinner. And frequently he dined standing. + +"Such a regimen, however, could not strengthen him. Nor did he +economize his strength, expending it largely in lessons, in +conversations, and in the habitual overflow of a too benevolent heart, +which lived in all things, interested itself in all. Age came, and +with it anxieties: family anxieties? no, but from jealous neighbours +or unfaithful debtors. The crisis of the American banks dealt a severe +blow to his fortune. He came to the extreme resolution, in spite of his +ill health and his years, of once more visiting America, in the belief +that his personal activity and his industry might re-establish affairs, +and secure the fortune of his wife and children. + +"This departure was terrible. It was preceded for me by another +blow. I had quitted the mansion and the country; I had entered a +boarding-school in the town. Cruel servitude, which deprived me of +all that made my life--of air and respiration! Everywhere, walls! I +should have died, but for the frequent visits of my mother, and the +rarer visits of my father, to which I looked forward with a delirious +impatience that perhaps love has never known. But now that my father +himself was leaving us--heaven, earth, everything seemed undone. With +whatever hope of reunion he might endeavour to cheer me, an internal +voice, distinct and terrible, such as one hears in great trials, told +me that he would return no more. + +"The house was sold, and the plantations laid out by our hands, the +trees which belonged to the family, were abandoned. Our animals were +plainly inconsolable at my father's departure. The dog--I forget for +how many successive days--seated himself on the road which he had +taken at his departure, howled, and returned. The most disinherited of +all, the cat Moquo, no longer confided in any person, though he still +came to regard with furtive glances the empty place. Then he took his +resolution, and fled to the woods, from which we could never call him +back; he resumed his early life, miserable and savage. + +"And I, too, I quitted the paternal roof, the hearth of my young years, +with a heart for ever wounded. My mother, my sister, my brothers, the +sweet friendships of infancy, disappeared behind me. I entered upon +a life of trial and isolation. At Bayonne, however, where I first +resided, the sea of Biarritz spoke to me of my father; the waves which +break on its shore, from America to Europe, repeated the story of his +death; the snow-white ocean birds seemed to say, 'We have seen him.' + +"What remained to me? My climate, my birth-land, my language. But +even these I lost. I was compelled to go to the North, to an unknown +tongue and a hostile sky, where the earth for half a year wears +mourning weeds. During these long seasons of frost, my failing health +extinguishing imagination, I could scarcely re-create for myself my +ideal South. A dog might have somewhat consoled me: in default, I made +two little friends, who resembled, I fancied, my mother's turtle-doves. +They knew me, loved me, sported by my fireside; I gave to them the +summer which my heart had not. + +"Seriously affected, I fell very ill, and thought I should soon touch +the other shore. However studious and tender towards me might be the +hospitality of the stranger, it was needful I should return to France. +It was long before carefulness of affection, and a marriage in which I +found again a father's heart and arms, could restore my health. I had +seen death from so near a view-point--let us rather say, I had entered +so far upon it--that nature herself, living nature, that first love and +rapture of my young years, had for a long time little hold upon me, and +she alone had any. Nothing had supplied her place. History, and the +recital of the pathetic stirring human drama, moved me but lightly; +nothing seized firmly on my mind but the unchangeable, God and Nature. + +"Nature is immovable and yet mobile; that is her eternal charm. Her +unwearied activity, her ever-shifting phantasmagoria, do not weary, do +not disturb; this harmonious motion bears in itself a profound repose. + +"I was recalled to her by the flowers--by the cares which they demand, +and the species of maternity which they solicit. My imperceptible +garden of twelve trees and three beds did not fail to remind me of the +great fertile vineyard where I was born; and I found, too, some degree +of happiness, by the side of an ardent intellect, which toiled athirst +in the dreary ways and wastes of human history, in cherishing for him +these living waters and the charm of a few flowers." + + [Illustration] + +I resume. + +See me now torn from the city by this loving inquietude, by my fears +for an invalid whom it was essential to restore to the conditions of +her early life and the free air of the country. I quitted Paris, my +city, which I had never left before; that city which comprises the +three worlds; that cradle of Art and Thought. + +I returned there daily for my duties and occupations; but I hastened +to get quit of it. Its noise, its distant hum, the ebb and flow of +abortive revolutions, impelled me to wander afar. It was with much +pleasure that, in the spring of 1852, I broke through all the ties of +old habits; I closed my library with a bitter joy, I put under lock and +key my books, the companions of my life, which had assuredly thought to +hold me bound for ever. I travelled so long as earth supported me, and +only halted at Nantes, close to the sea, on a hill which overlooks the +yellow streams of Brittany as they flow onward to mingle, in the Loire, +with the gray waters of La Vendée. + +We established ourselves in a large country mansion, completely +isolated, in the midst of the constant rains with which our western +fields are inundated at this season. At such a distance from the ocean, +one does not feel its briny influence; the rains are tempests of fresh +water. The house, in the Louis Quinze style, had been uninhabited for +a considerable period, and at first sight seemed a little gloomy. +Situated on elevated ground, it was rendered not the less sombre by +thick hedges on the one side, on the other by tall trees and by an +untold number of unpruned cherry-trees. The whole, on a greensward, +which the undrained waters preserved, even in summer, in a beautifully +fresh condition. + +I adore neglected gardens, and this one reminded me of the great +abandoned vineyards of the Italian villas; but it possessed, what these +villas lack, a charming medley of vegetables and plants of a thousand +different species--all the herbs of the St. John, and each herb tall +and vigorous. The forest of cherry-trees, bending under their burden of +scarlet fruit, gave also the idea of inexhaustible abundance. + +It was not the sweet austerity (_soave austero_) of Italy; it was a +soft and overflowing profusion, under a warm, mild, and moist sky. + + [Illustration] + +Nothing appeared in sight, though a large town was close at hand, +and a little river, the Erdre, wound under the hill, and from thence +dragged itself towards the Loire. But this vegetable prodigality, +this virgin forest of fruit trees, completely shut in the view. For a +prospect, one must mount into a species of turret, whence the landscape +began to reveal itself in a certain grandeur, with its woods and its +meadows, its distant monuments, its towers. Even from this observatory +the view was still limited, the city only appearing imperfectly, and +not allowing you to catch sight of its mighty river, its island, its +stir of commerce and navigation. A few paces from its great harbour, +of whose existence there was no sign, one might believe oneself in a +desert, in the _landes_ of Brittany, or the clearings of La Vendée. + +Two things were of a lofty character, and detached themselves +from this sombre orchard. Penetrating the ancient hedges and +chestnut-alleys, you found yourself in a nook of barren argillaceous +soil, where, among thyme-laurels and other strong, rude trees, rose an +enormous cedar, a veritable leafy cathedral, of such stature that a +cypress already grown very tall was choked by it, and lost. This cedar, +bare and stripped below, was living and vigorous where it received +the light; its immense arms, at thirty feet from the ground, clothed +themselves with strange and pointed leaves; then the canopy thickened; +the trunk attained an elevation of eighty feet. You saw, about three +leagues distant, the fields opposite the banks of the Sèvre and the +woods of La Vendée. Our home, low and sheltered on the side of this +giant, was not less distinguished by it throughout an immense circuit, +and perhaps owed to it its name, the High Forest. + + [Illustration] + +At the other end of the enclosure, from a deep sheet of water, rose +a small ascent, crowned with a garland of pines. These fine trees, +incessantly beaten by the sea-breezes, and shaken by the adverse winds +which follow the currents of the great river and its two tributaries, +groaned in the struggle, and day and night filled the profound silence +of the place with a melancholy harmony. At times, you might have +thought yourself by the sea; they so imitated the noise of the waves, +of the ebbing and flowing tide. + +By degrees, as the season became a little drier, this sojourn exhibited +itself to me in its real character; serious, indeed, but more varied +than one would have supposed at the first glance, and beautiful with +a touching beauty which went home to the soul. Austere, as became the +gate of Brittany, it had all the luxuriant verdure of the Vendean coast. + +I could have thought, when I saw the pomegranates blooming in the +open air, robust and loaded with flowers, that I was in the south. +The magnolia, no dwarf, as we see it elsewhere, but splendid and +magnificent, and full-grown, like a great tree, perfumed all my garden +with its huge white blossoms, which contain in their thick chalices an +abundance of I know not what kind of oil, an oil sweet and penetrating, +whose odour follows you everywhere; you are enveloped in it. + +We found ourselves this time in possession of a true garden, a large +establishment, a thousand domestic occupations with which we had +previously dispensed. A wild Breton girl rendered help only in the +coarser tasks. Save one weekly journey to the town, we were very +lonely, but in an extremely busy solitude; rising very early in the +morning, at the first awakening of the birds, and even before the day. +It is true that we retired to rest at a good hour, and almost at the +same time as the birds. + +This profusion of fruits, vegetables, and plants of every kind, enabled +us to keep numerous domestic animals: only the difficulty was, that +nourishing them, knowing each of them, and well-known by them, we +could not make up our minds to eat them. We planted, and here we met +with quite a distinct kind of inconvenience--our plantations were +nearly always devoured beforehand. + +This earth, fertile in vegetables, was equally or more prolific of +destructive animals; enormous capacious snails, devouring insects. +In the morning we collected a great tubful of snails. The next day +you would never have thought so. There still seemed to be the full +complement. + + [Illustration] + +Our hens did their best. But how much more effective would have been +the skilful and prudent stork, the admirable scavenger of Holland and +all marshy districts, which some Western lands ought at all costs to +adopt. Everybody knows the affectionate respect in which this excellent +bird is held by the Dutch. In their markets you may see him standing +peacefully on one foot, dreaming in the midst of the crowd, and feeling +as safe as in the heart of the deepest deserts. It is a fantastic but +well-assured fact, that the Dutch peasant who has had the misfortune to +wound his stork and to break his leg, provides him with one of wood. + +To return: our residence near Nantes would have possessed an infinite +charm for a less absorbed mind. This beautiful spot, this great +liberty of work, this solitude, so sweet in such society, formed a +rare harmony, such as one but seldom meets with in life. Its sweetness +contrasted strongly with the thoughts of the present, with the gloomy +past which then occupied my pen. I was writing of '93. Its heroic +primeval history enveloped, possessed, shall I say consumed, me. All +the elements of happiness which surrounded me, which I sacrificed to +work, adjourning them for a time that, according to all appearances, +might never be mine, I regretted daily, and incessantly cast back upon +them a look of sorrow. It was a daily battle of affection and nature, +against the sombre thoughts of the human world. + + [Illustration] + +That battle for me will be always a powerful _souvenir_. The scene has +remained sacred in my thought. Elsewhere it no longer exists. The house +is destroyed--another built on its site. And it is for this reason +that I have dallied here a little. My cedar, however, has survived; a +notable thing, for architects now-a-days hate trees. + +When, however, I drew near the end of my task, some glimpses of light +enlivened the wild darkness. My sorrows were less keen, when I felt +sure that I should thenceforth enjoy this memorial of a cruel but +fertile experience. Once more I began to hear the voices of solitude, +and more plainly I believe than at any other age, but slowly and with +unaccustomed ear, like one who shall have been some time dead, and have +returned from the other world. + +In my youth, before I was taken captive by this implacable History, I +had sympathized with nature, but with a blind warmth, with a heart less +tender than ardent. At a later period, when residing in the suburb of +Paris, I had again felt that emotion of love. I watched with interest +my sickly flowers in that arid soil, so sensible every evening of the +joy of refreshing waterings, so plainly grateful. How much more at +Nantes, surrounded by a nature ever powerful and prolific, seeing the +herbage shoot upward hour after hour, and all animal life multiplying +around me, ought I not, I too, to expand and revive with this new +sentiment! + +If there were aught that could have re-inspired my mind and broken +the sombre spell that lay upon it, it would have been a book which we +frequently read in the evening, the "Birds of France," by Toussenel, a +charming and felicitous transition from the thought of country to that +of nature. + + [Illustration] + +So long as France exists, his Lark and his Redbreast, his Bullfinch, +his Swallow, will be incessantly read, re-read, re-told. And if there +were no longer a France, in its ingenious pages we should re-discover +all which it owned of good, the true breath of that country, the Gallic +sense, the French _esprit_, the very soul of our fatherland. + +The formulæ of a system which it bears, however, very lightly, its +forced comparisons (which sometimes make us think of those too +_spirituel_ animals of Granville), do not prevent the French genius, +gay, good, serene, and courageous, young as an April sun, from +illuminating the entire book. It possesses numerous passages enlivened +with the joyousness, the elasticity, the gushing song of the lark in +the first day of spring. + +Add a thing of great beauty, which does not spring from youth. The +author, a child of the Meuse and of a land of hunters, himself in +his early years an ardent and impassioned sportsman, appears altered +in character by his book. He wavers visibly between the first habits +of slaughterous youth, and his new sentiment, his tenderness for +those pathetic lives which he unveils--for these souls, these beings +recognized by his soul. I dare to say that thenceforth he will no more +hunt without remorse. Father and second creator of this world of love +and innocence, he will find interposed between them and him a barrier +of compassion. And what barrier? His own work, the book in which he +gives them life. + +I had scarcely begun my book, when it became necessary for me to +leave Nantes. I, too, was ill. The dampness of the climate, the hard +continuous labour, and still more keenly, without doubt, the conflict +of my thoughts, seemed to have struck home to that vital nerve of which +nothing had ever before taken hold. The road which our swallows tracked +for us, we followed; we proceeded southward. We fixed our transitory +nest in a fold of the Apennines, two leagues from Genoa. + +An admirable situation, a secure and well-defended shelter, which, in +the variable climate of that coast, enjoys the astonishing boon of an +equable temperature. Although one could not entirely dispense with +fires, the winter sun, warm in January, encouraged the lizard and the +invalid to think it was spring. Shall I confess it, however? These +oranges, these citrons, harmonizing in their changeless foliage with +the changeless blue of heaven were not without monotony. Animated life +was very rare. There were few or no small birds; no sea birds. The +fish, limited in numbers, did not fill with life those translucent +waters. My glance pierced them to a great depth, and saw nothing but +solitude, and the white and black rocks which form the bed of that gulf +of marble. + +The littoral, exceedingly narrow, is nothing but a small cornice, an +extremely confined border, a mere eyebrow (_sourcil_) of the mountains, +as the Latins would have said. To ascend the ladder and overlook the +gulf is, even for the most robust, a violent gymnastic effort. My sole +promenade was a little quay, or rather a rugged circular road, which +wound, with a breadth of about three feet, between ancient garden +walls, rocks, and precipices. + + [Illustration] + +Deep was the silence, sparkling the sea, but all lonesome and +monotonous, except for the passage of a few distant barks. Work was +prohibited to me; for the first time for thirty years, I was separated +from my pen, and had escaped from that paper and ink existence in +which I had previously lived. This pause, which I thought so barren, +in reality proved to me very fertile. I watched, I observed. Unknown +voices awoke within me. + +At some distance from Genoa, and the excellent friends whom we knew +there, our only society was the small people of the lizards, which run +over the rocks, played, and slumbered in the sun. Charming, innocent +animals, which every noon, when we dined, and the quay was absolutely +deserted, amused me with their vivacious and graceful evolutions. At +the outset my presence had appeared to disquiet them; but a week had +not passed before all, even the youngest, knew me, and knew they had +nothing to fear from the peaceful dreamer. + +Such the animal, and such the man. The abstemious life of my lizards, +for which a fly was an ample banquet, differed in nothing from that of +the _povera gente_ of the coast. Many lived wholly on herbs. But herbs +were not abundant in the barren and gaunt mountain. The destitution of +the country exceeded all belief. I was not grieved at daring it, at +finding myself sympathizing with the woes of Italy, my glorious nurse, +who has nourished France, and me more than any Frenchman. + +A nurse? That was she ever, so far as was possible in her poverty of +resources, in the poverty of nature to which my health reduced me. +Incapable of food, I still received from her the only nourishment +which I could support, the vivifying air and the light--the sun, which +frequently permitted us, in one of the severest winters of the century, +to keep the windows open in January. + +In the lazy, lizard-like life which I lived upon that shore, I wholly +occupied myself with the surrounding country, with the apparent +antiquity of the Apennines and the mountains which girdle the +Mediterranean. Is there then no remedy? Or rather, in their leafless +declivities shall we not discover the fountains which may renew their +life? Such was the idea which absorbed me. I no longer thought of +my illness; I troubled myself no more about recovering. I had made +what is truly great progress for an invalid: I had forgotten myself. +My business henceforward was to resuscitate that mighty patient, +the Apennines. And as by degrees I became aware that the case was +not hopeless--that the waters were hidden, not lost--that by their +discovery we might restore vegetable life, and eventually animal +life,--I felt myself much stronger, refreshed, renewed. For each spring +that revealed itself, I grew less athirst; I felt its waters rise +within my soul. + +Ever fertile is Italy. She proved so to me through her very barrenness +and poverty. The ruggedness of the bald Apennines, the lean Ligurian +coast, did but the more awaken, by contrast, the recollection of that +genial nature which cherishes the luxuriant richness of our western +France. I missed the animal life; I felt its absence. From the mute +foliage of sombre orange-gardens I demanded the woodland birds. For +the first time I perceived the seriousness of human existence when it +is no longer surrounded by the grand society of innocent beings whose +movements, voices, and sports are, so to speak, the smile of creation. + +A revolution took place in me which I shall, perhaps, some day relate. +I returned, with all the strength of my ailing existence, to the +thoughts which I had uttered, in 1846, in my book of "The People," to +that City of God where the humble and simple, peasants and artisans, +the ignorant and unlettered, barbarians and savages, children, and +those other children, too, which we call animals, are all citizens +under different titles, have all their privileges and their laws, their +places at the great civic banquet. "I protest, for my part, that if +any one remains in the rear whom the City still rejects and does not +shelter with her rights, I myself will not enter in, but will halt upon +her threshold." + +Thus, all natural history I had begun to regard as a branch of the +political. Every living species came, each in its humble right, +striking at the gate and demanding admittance to the bosom of +Democracy. Why should their elder brothers repulse them beyond the pale +of those laws which the universal Father harmonizes with the law of the +world? + +Such, then, was my renovation, this tardy new life (_vita nuova_), +which led me, step by step, to the natural sciences. Italy, whose +influence over my destiny has always been great, was its scene, its +occasion, just as, thirty years before, it had lit for me, through +Vico, the first spark of the historic fire. + +Beloved and beneficent nurse! Because I had for one moment shared her +sorrows, suffered, dreamed with her, she bestowed on me a priceless +gift, worth more than all the diamonds of Golconda. What gift? A +profound sympathy of spirit, a fruitful interchange of the most +intimate ideas, a perfect home-harmony in the thought of Nature. + +We arrived at this goal by two paths: I, by my love of the City, by the +effort of completing it through an association of self with all other +beings; my wife, by religious feeling and by her filial reverence for +the fatherhood of God. + +Henceforth we were able, every evening, to enjoy a mutual feast. + +I have already explained how this work, unknown to ourselves, grew +rich, was rendered fruitful, was impelled forward, by our modest +auxiliaries. They have almost always dictated it. + +Our Parisian flowers prepared what our birds of Nantes accomplished. A +certain nightingale of which I speak at the close of the book crowned +the work. + +These divers impressions blended and melted together, on our return +to France, and especially here, in the presence of the ocean. At the +promontory of La Hève, under the venerable elms which overshadow it, +this revelation completed itself. The gulls, gannets, and guillemots of +the coast, the small birds of the groves, could say nothing which was +not understood. All things found an echo in our hearts, like so many +internal voices. + +The Pharos, the huge cliff, from three to four hundred feet in +height,[9] which from so lofty an elevation overlooks the vast +embouchure of the Seine, the Calvados, and the ocean, was the customary +goal of our promenades, and our resting-point. We usually climbed +to it by a deep covered road, full of freshness and shadow, which +suddenly opened upon this immense lighthouse. Sometimes we ascended +the colossal staircase which, without surprises, in the full sunlight, +and always facing the mighty sea, leads by three flights to the summit, +each flight covering upwards of a hundred feet. You cannot accomplish +this ascent at one breath; at the second stage, you breathe, you seat +yourself for a few moments by the monument which the widow of one of +France's greatest soldiers has raised to his memory, in the hope that +its pyramid might prove a beacon to the mariner, and guard him from +shipwreck. + + [Illustration] + +This cliff, of a very sandy soil, loses a little every winter.[10] It +is not, however, the sea which gnaws at it; the heavy rains wash it +away, carrying off the débris, which, at first bare and shapeless, bear +eloquent witness to their downfall. But tender and gracious Nature does +not long suffer this. She speedily attires them, bestows upon them +greensward, herbs, shrubs, briers, which in due time become miniature +oases on the declivity, Liliput landscapes suspended on the vast cliff, +consoling its gloomy barrenness with their sweet youth. + +Thus the Beautiful and the Sublime here embrace, a thing of rarity. +The storm-beaten mountain relates to you the _epopea_ of earth, its +rude dramatic history, and shows its bones in evidence of its truth. +But these young children of chance, who spring up on its arid flank, +prove that she is still fertile, that her débris contain the elements +of a new organization, that all death is a life begun. + +So these ruins have never caused us any sadness. We have conversed +among them freely of destiny, providence, death, the life to come. +I, whom age and toil have given a right to die--she, whose brow is +already bent by the trials of infancy and a wisdom beyond her years, +we have not lived the less for a grand inspiration of soul, for the +rejuvenescent breath of that much-loved mother, Nature.[11] + +Sprung from her at so great a distance from one another, so united in +her to-day, we would fain have rendered eternal this rare moment of +existence, "have cast anchor on the island of time." And how could we +better realize our idea than by this work of tenderness, of universal +brotherhood, of adoption of all life! + +My wife incessantly recalled me to it, enlarging my sentiments of +individual tenderness by her facile, bright, emotional interpretation +of the spirit of the country and the voices of solitude. + +It was then, among other things, that I learned to understand birds +which, like the swallows, sing little, but talk much--prattling of +the fine weather, of the chase, of scanty or abundant food, of their +approaching departure; in fact, of all their affairs. I had listened +to them at Nantes in October, at Turin in June. Their September +_causeries_ were more intelligible at La Hève. We translated them +easily in all their fond vivacity, all their joyousness of youth and +good-humour, free from ostentation or satire, in accord with the +happy moderation of a bird so free and so wise, which appears not +ungratefully to recognize that he has received from God a lot of such +signal felicity. + +Alas! even the swallow is not spared in that senseless warfare which +we wage against nature. We destroy the very birds that protect our +crops--our guardians, our honest labourers--which, following close upon +the plough, seize the future pest, which the heedless peasant disturbs +only to replace in the earth. + + [Illustration] + +Whole races, valuable and interesting, perish. Those lords of ocean, +those wild and sagacious creatures which Nature has endowed with blood +and milk--I speak of the cetacea--to what number are they reduced! +Many great quadrupeds have vanished from the globe. Many animals of +every kind, without utterly disappearing, have recoiled before man; +brutalized (_ensauvagés_) they fly, they lose their natural arts, and +relapse into barbarism. The heron, whose prudence and address were +remarked by Aristotle, is now, at least in Europe, a misanthropical, +narrow-minded, half-foolish animal. The beaver, which, in America, in +its peaceful solitudes, had become a great architect and engineer, has +grown discouraged;[12] to-day it has scarcely the heart to excavate a +burrow in the earth. The hare, so gentle, so handsome, distinguished by +its fur, its swiftness, its wonderful delicacy of ear, will soon have +disappeared; the few of its kind which remain are positively embruted. +And yet the poor animal is still docile and teachable: in careful +hands it might be taught the things most antagonistic to its nature, +even those which need a display of courage.[13] + +These thoughts, which others have expressed in far better language, +we cherished at heart. They had been our aliment, our habitual dream, +over which we had brooded for two years, in Brittany, in Italy; it is +here that they have developed into--what shall I say--a book? a living +fruit? At La Hève it appeared to us in its genial idea, that of the +primitive alliance which God has ordained for all his creatures, of the +love-bond which the universal mother has sealed between her children. + +The winged order--the loftiest, the tenderest, the most sympathetic +with man--is that which man now-a-days pursues most cruelly. + +What is required for its protection? To reveal the bird as soul, to +show that it is a person. + +_The_ bird, then, _a single bird_--that is all my book; but the bird +in all the variations of its destiny, as it accommodates itself to the +thousand conditions of earth, to the thousand vocations of the winged +life. Without any knowledge of the more or less ingenious systems of +transformations, the heart gives oneness to its object; it neither +allows itself to be arrested by the external differences of species, +nor by that death which seems to sever the thread. Death, rude and +cruel, intervenes in this book, in the full current of life, but as a +passing accident only; life does not the less continue. + +The agents of death, the murdering species, so glorified by man, +who recognizes in them his image, are here replaced very low in +the hierarchy, remitted to the rank which is rightly theirs. They +are the most deficient in the two special qualifications of the +bird--nest-making and song. Sad instruments of the fatal passage, they +appear in the midst of this book as the blind ministers of nature's +hardest necessity. + +But the lofty light of life--art in its earliest dawn--shines only +in the smallest. With the small birds, unostentatious as they are, +modestly and seriously clad, art begins, and, on certain points, rises +higher than the sphere of man. Far from equalling the nightingale, we +have been unable to express or to render an account of his sublime song. + +The eagle, then, is in these pages dethroned; the nightingale reigns +in his stead. In that moral _crescendo_, where the bird continuously +advances in self-culture, the apex and the supreme point are naturally +discovered, not in brutal strength, so easily overpassed by man, but +in a puissance of art, of soul, and of aspiration which man has not +attained, and which, beyond this world, transports him in a moment to +the further spheres. + +High justice and true, because it is clear-visioned and tender! Feeble +on too many points, I doubt not, this book is strong in tenderness and +faith. It is one, constant and faithful. Nothing makes it divaricate. +Above death and its false divorce, through life and the masks which +disguise its unity, it flies, it loves to hover, from nest to nest, +from egg to egg, from love to the love of God. + + LA HÈVE, NEAR HAVRE, _September 21, 1855_. + + [Illustration] + + + + + [Illustration] + +Part First. + + + + + [Illustration: THE EGG.] + + + + + [Illustration] + + + + +THE EGG. + + +The wise ignorance, the clear-seeing instinct of our forefathers gave +utterance to this oracle: "Everything springs from the egg; it is the +world's cradle." + +Even our original, but especially the diversity of our destiny, is due +to the mother. She acts and she foresees, she loves with a stronger or +a weaker love, she is more or less the mother. The more she is so, the +higher mounts her offspring; each degree in existence depends on the +degree of her love. + +What can the mother effect in the mobile existence of the fish? +Nothing, but trust her birth to the ocean. What in the insect world, +where she generally dies as soon as she has produced the egg? To obtain +for it before dying a secure asylum, where it may come to light, and +live. + +In the case of the superior animal, the quadruped, where the warm +blood should surely stir up love, where the mother's womb is so long +the rest and home of her young, the cares of maternity are also of +minor import. The offspring is born fully formed, clothed in all things +like its mother; and its food awaits it. And in many species its +education is accomplished without any further care on the part of the +mother than she bestowed when it grew in her bosom. + +Far otherwise is the destiny of the bird. It would die if it were not +loved. + +Loved! Every mother loves, from the ocean to the stars. I should rather +say anxiously tended, surrounded by infinite love, enfolded in the +warmth of the maternal magnetism. + +Even in the egg, where you see it protected by a calcareous shell, it +feels so keenly the access of air, that every chilled point in the +egg is a member the less for the future bird. Hence the prolonged and +disquieted labour of incubation, the self-inflicted captivity, the +motionlessness of the most mobile of beings. And all this so very +pitiful! A stone pressed so long to the heart, to the flesh--often the +live flesh! + +It is born, but born naked. While the baby-quadruped, even from his +first day of life, is clothed, and crawls, and already walks, the +young bird (especially in the higher species) lies motionless upon its +back, without the protection of any feathers. It is not only while +hatching it, but in anxiously rubbing it, that the mother maintains +and stimulates warmth. The colt can readily suckle and nourish itself; +the young bird must wait while the mother seeks, selects, and prepares +its food. She cannot leave it; the father must here supply her place; +behold the real, veritable family, faithfulness in love, and the first +moral enlightenment. + +I will say nothing here of a protracted, very peculiar, and very +hazardous education--that of flight. And nothing here of that of song, +so refined among the feathered artists. The quadruped soon knows all +that he will ever know: he gallops when born; and if he experiences an +occasional fall, is it the same thing, tell me, to slide without danger +among the herbage, as to drop headlong from the skies? + + [Illustration] + +Let us take the egg in our hands. This elliptical form, at once the +most easy of comprehension, the most beautiful, and presenting the +fewest salient points to external attack, gives one the idea of a +complete miniature world, of a perfect harmony, from which nothing +can be taken away, and to which nothing can be added. No inorganic +matter adopts this perfect form. I conceive that, under its apparent +inertness, it holds a high mystery of life and some accomplished work +of God. + +What is it, and what should issue from it? I know not. But _she_ knows +well--yonder trembling creature who, with outstretched wings, embraces +it and matures it with her warmth; she who, until now the free queen +of the air, lived at her own wild will, but, suddenly fettered, sits +motionless on that mute object which one would call a stone, and which +as yet gives no revelation. + +Do not speak of blind instinct. Facts demonstrate how that +clear-sighted instinct modifies itself according to surrounding +conditions; in other words, how that rudimentary reason differs in its +nature from the lofty human reason. + +Yes; that mother knows and sees distinctly by means of the penetration +and clairvoyance of love. Through the thick calcareous shell, where +your rude hand perceives nothing, she feels by a delicate tact the +mysterious being which she nourishes and forms. It is this feeling +which sustains her during the arduous labour of incubation, during her +protracted captivity. She sees it delicate and charming in its soft +down of infancy, and she predicts with the vision of hope that it will +be vigorous and bold, when, with outspread wings, it shall eye the sun +and breast the storm. + +Let us profit by these days. Let us hasten nothing. Let us contemplate +at our leisure this delightful image of the maternal reverie--of that +second childbirth by which she completes the invisible object of her +love--the unknown offspring of desire. + +A delightful spectacle, but even more sublime than delightful. Let +us be modest here. With us the mother loves that which stirs in her +bosom--that which she touches, clasps, enfolds in assured possession; +she loves the reality, certain, agitated and moving, which responds to +her own movements. But this one loves the future and unknown; her heart +beats alone, and nothing as yet responds to it. Yet is not her love the +less intense; she devotes herself and suffers; she will suffer unto +death for her dream and her faith. + + [Illustration] + +A faith powerful and efficacious! It produces a world, and one of the +most wonderful of worlds. Speak not to me of suns, of the elementary +chemistry of globes. The marvel of a humming-bird's egg transcends the +Milky Way. + +Understand that this little point which to you seems imperceptible, +is an entire ocean--the sea of milk where floats in embryo the +well-beloved of heaven. It floats; fears no shipwreck; it is held +suspended by the most delicate ligaments; it is saved from jar and +shock. It swims all gently in the warm element, as it will swim +hereafter in the atmosphere. A profound serenity, a perfect state in +the bosom of a nourishing habitation! And how superior to all suckling +(_allaitement_)! + +But see how, in this divine sleep, it has perceived its mother and her +magnetic warmth. And it, too, begins to dream. Its dream is of motion; +it imitates, it conforms to its mother; its first act, the act of an +obscure love, is to resemble her. + + "Knowest thou not that love transforms + Into itself whate'er it loves?" + +And as soon as it resembles her, it will seek to join her. It inclines, +it presses more closely against the shell, which thenceforth is the +sole barrier between it and its mother. Then, then she listens! +Sometimes she is blessed by hearing already its first tender piping. +It will remain a prisoner no longer. Grown daring, it will take its +own part. It has a beak, and makes use of it. It strikes, it cracks, +it cleaves its prison wall. It has feet, and brings them to its +assistance. See now the work begun! Its reward is deliverance; it +enters into liberty. + +To tell the rapture, the agitation, the prodigious inquietude, the +mother's many cares, is beyond our province here; of the difficulties +of its education we have already spoken. + +It is only through time and tenderness that the bird receives its +initiation. Superior by its powers of flight, it is so much the more so +through this, that it has had a home and has gained life through its +mother; fed by her, and by its father emancipated, the freest of beings +is the favourite of love. + +If one wishes to admire the fertility of nature, the vigour of +invention, the charming, and in a certain sense, the terrifying +richness, which from one identical creation draws a million of opposite +miracles, one should regard this egg, so exactly like another, and yet +the source whence shall issue the innumerable tribes born to a life of +wings on earth. + +From the obscure unity it pours out, it expands, in countless and +prodigiously divergent rays, those winged flames which you name birds, +glowing with ardour and life, with colour and song. From the burning +hand of God escapes continuously that vast fan of astounding diversity, +where everything shines, where everything sings, where everything +floods me with harmony and light. Dazzled, I lower my eyes. + + [Illustration] + +Melodious sparks of celestial fire, whither do ye not attain? For ye +exists nor height nor distance; the heaven, the abyss, it is all one. +What cloud, what watery deep is inaccessible to ye? Earth, in all its +vast circuit, great as it is with its mountains, its seas, and its +valleys, is wholly yours. I hear ye under the Equator, ardent as the +arrows of the sun. I hear ye at the Pole, in the eternal lifeless +silence, where the last tuft of moss has faded; the very bear sees +ye afar, and slinks away growling. Ye, ye still remain; ye live, ye +love, ye bear witness to God, ye reanimate death. In those terrestrial +deserts your touching loves invest with an atmosphere of innocence what +man has designated the barbarism of nature. + + + + + [Illustration: THE POLE--AQUATIC BIRDS.] + + + + + [Illustration] + + + + +THE POLE. + +AQUATIC BIRDS. + + +That powerful fairy which endows man with most of his blessings and +misfortunes, Imagination, sets herself to work to travestie nature for +him in a hundred ways. In all which exceeds his energies or wounds his +sensations, in all the necessities which overrule the harmony of the +world, he is tempted to see and to curse a maleficent will. One writer +has made a book against the Alps; a poet has foolishly placed the +throne of evil among those beneficent glaciers which are the reservoir +of the waters of Europe, which pour forth its rivers and make its +fertility. Others, still more absurdly, have vented their wrath upon +the ices of the Pole, misunderstanding the magnificent economy of the +globe, the majestic balance of those alternative currents which are the +life of Ocean. They have seen war and hate, and the malice of nature, +in those regular and profoundly pacific movements of the universal +Mother. + +Such are the dreams of man. Animals, however, do not share in these +antipathies, these terrors; a twofold attraction, on the contrary, +impels them yearly towards the Poles in innumerable legions. + +Every year birds, fishes, gigantic cetaceans, hasten to people the +seas and islands which surround the southern Pole. Wonderful seas, +fertile, full to overflowing of rudimentary life (in the stage of the +zoophytes), of living fermentation, of viscous waters, of spawn, of +superabundant embryos. + +Both the Poles are for these innocent myriads, everywhere pursued by +foes, the great, the happy rendezvous of love and peace. The whale, +that unfortunate fish, which has, however, like ourselves, sweet milk +and hot blood, that poor proscribed unfortunate which will soon have +disappeared--it is there that it again finds a refuge, a halt for +the sacred moments of maternity. No races are of purer or gentler +disposition, none more fraternal towards their kin, more tender towards +their offspring. Cruel ignorance of man! How can he have slain without +horror the walrus and the seal, which in so many points are like +himself? + +The giant man of the old ocean, the whale--a being as gentle as man the +dwarf is brutal--enjoys this advantage over him: sure of species whose +fecundity is alarming, it can accomplish the mission of destruction +which nature has ordained, without inflicting upon them any pain. It +has neither teeth nor saw; none of those means of punishment with +which the destroyers of the world are so abundantly provided. Suddenly +absorbed in the depths of this moving crucible, they lose themselves, +they swoon away, they undergo instantaneously the transformations of +its grand chemistry. Most of the living matter on which the inhabitants +of the Polar Seas support themselves--cetaceans, fishes, birds--have +neither organism nor the means of suffering. Hence these tribes +possess a character of innocence which moves us infinitely, fills us +with sympathy, and also, we must confess, with envy. Thrice blessed, +thrice fortunate that world where life renews and repairs itself +without the cost of death--that world which is generally free from +pain, which ever finds in its nourishing waters the sea of milk, has no +need of cruelty, and still clings to Nature's kindly breast! + +Before man's appearance, profound was the peace of these solitudes and +their amphibious races. From the bear and the blue fox, the two tyrants +of that region, they found an easy shelter in the ever-open bosom of +the sea, their bountiful nurse. + + [Illustration] + +When our mariners first landed there, their only difficulty was to +pierce through the mass of curious and kindly-natured phocæ which came +to gaze upon them. The penguins of Australian lands, the auks and +razor-bills of the Arctic shores, peaceable and more active, made no +movement. The wild geese, whose fine down, of incomparable softness, +furnishes the much-prized eider, readily permitted the spoilers to +approach and seize them with their hands. + +The attitude of these novel creatures was the cause of pleasant +mistakes on the part of our navigators. Those who from afar first saw +the islands thronged with penguins, standing upright, in their costume +of white and black, imagined them to be bands of children in white +aprons! The stiffness of their small arms--one can scarcely call them +wings in these rudimentary birds--their awkwardness on land, their +difficulty of movement, prove that they belong to the ocean, where they +swim with wonderful ease, and which is their natural and legitimate +element. One might speak of them as its emancipated eldest sons, +as ambitious fishes, candidates for the characters of birds, which +had already progressed so far as to transform their fins into scaly +pinions. The metamorphosis was not attended with complete success; as +birds powerless and clumsy, they remain skilful fishes. + + [Illustration] + +Or again, with their large feet attached so near to the body, with +their neck short or poised on a great cylindrical trunk, with their +flattened head, one might judge them to be near relations of their +neighbours the seals, whose kindly nature they possess, but not their +intelligence. + +These eldest sons of nature, eye-witnesses of the ancient ages of +transformation, appeared like so many strange hieroglyphics to those +who first beheld them. With eyes mild, but sad and pale as the face of +ocean, they seemed to regard man, the last-born of the planet, from the +depths of their antiquity. + +Levaillant, not far from the Cape of Good Hope, found them in great +numbers on a desert isle where rose the tomb of a poor Danish mariner, +a child of the Arctic Pole, whom Fate had led thither to die among the +Austral wastes, and between whom and his fatherland the density of +the globe intervened. Seals and penguins supplied him with a numerous +society; the former prostrate and lying down; the latter standing +erect, and mounting guard with dignity around the lonely grave: all +melancholy, and responding to the moans of Ocean, which one might have +imagined to be the wail of the dead. + +Their winter station is the Cape. In that warm African exile they +invest themselves with a good and solid coat of fat, which will be very +useful defences for them against cold and hunger. When spring returns, +a secret voice admonishes them that the tempestuous thaw has broken +and rent the sharp crystalline ice; that the blissful Polar Seas, +their country and their cradle, their sweet love-Eden, are open and +calling upon them. Impatiently they set forth; with rapid wings they +oar their way across five or six hundred leagues of sea, without other +resting-place than occasional pieces of floating ice may, for a few +moments, offer them. They arrive, and all is ready. A summer of thirty +days' duration makes them happy. + + [Illustration] + +With a grave happiness. The happiness of discovering a profound +tranquillity separates them from the sea where their sole element lies. +The season of love and incubation is, therefore, a time of fasting and +inquietude. The blue fox, their enemy, chases them into the desert. But +union is strength. The mothers all incubate at one and the same time, +and the legion of fathers watches around them, prepared to sacrifice +themselves in their behalf. Let but the little one be hatched, and the +serried ranks conduct it to the sea; it leaps into the waters, and is +saved! + +Stern, sad climates! Yet who would not love them, when he sees there +the vast tenderness of nature, which impartially orders the home of man +and the bird, the central source of love and devotion? From nature the +Northern home receives a moral grace which that of the South rarely +possesses; a sun shines there which is not the sun of the Equator, but +far more gentle--that of the soul. There every creature is exalted, +either by the very austerity of the climate or the urgency of peril. + +The supreme effort in this world of the North, which is nowhere that +of beauty, is to have discovered the Beautiful. This miracle springs +from the mother's soul. Lapland has but one art, one solitary object of +art--the cradle. "It is a charming object," says a lady who has visited +those regions; "elegant and graceful, like a pretty little shoe lined +with the soft fur of the white hare, more delicate than the feathers +of the swan. Around the hood, where the infant's head is completely +protected, warmly and softly sheltered, are hung festoons of coloured +pearls, and tiny chains of copper or silver which clink incessantly, +and whose jingling makes the young Laplander laugh." + +O wonder of maternity! Through its influence the rudest woman becomes +artistic, tenderly heedful. But the female is always heroic. It is one +of the most affecting spectacles to see the bird of the eider--the +eider-duck--plucking its down from its breast for a couch and a +covering for its young. And if man steals the nest, the mother still +continues upon herself the cruel operation. When she has stripped off +every feather, when there is nothing more to despoil but the flesh +and the blood, the father takes his turn; so that the little one is +clothed of themselves and their substance, by their devotion and their +suffering. Montaigne, speaking of a cloak which had served his father, +and which he loved to wear in remembrance of him, makes use of a tender +phrase, which this poor nest recalls to my mind--"I wrapped myself up +in my father." + + [Illustration] + + + + + [Illustration: THE WING.] + + + + + [Illustration] + + + + +THE WING. + + "Wings! wings! to sweep + O'er mountain high and valley deep. + Wings! that my heart may rest + In the radiant morning's breast. + + "Wings! to hover free + O'er the dawn-empurpled sea. + Wings! 'bove life to soar, + And beyond death for evermore." + + RUCKERT. + + +It is the cry of the whole earth, of the world, of all life; it is that +which every species of animals or plants utters in a hundred diverse +tongues--the voice which issues from the very rock and the inorganic +creation: "Wings! we seek for wings, and the power of flight and +motion!" + +Yea; the most inert bodies rush greedily into the chemical +transformations which will make them part and parcel of the current of +the universal life, and bestow upon them the organs of movement and +fermentation. + +Yea; the vegetables, fettered by their immovable roots, expand their +secret loves towards a winged existence, and commend themselves to the +winds, the waters, the insects, in quest of a life beyond their narrow +limits--of that gift of flight which nature has refused to them. + +We contemplate pityingly those rudimentary animals, the unau and the +aï, sad and suffering images of man, which cannot advance a step +without a groan--sloths or _tardigrades_. The names by which we +identify them we might justly reserve for ourselves. If slowness be +relative to the desire of movement, to the constantly futile effort +to progress, to advance, to act, the true _tardigrade_ is man. His +faculty of dragging himself from one point of the earth to another, the +ingenious instruments which he has recently invented in aid of that +faculty--all this does not lessen his adhesion to the earth; he is not +the less firmly chained to it by the tyranny of gravitation. + + [Illustration] + +I see upon earth but one order of created beings which enjoy the power +of ignoring or beguiling, by their freedom and swiftness of motion, +this universal sadness of impotent aspiration; I mean those beings +which belong to earth, so to speak, only by the tips of their wings; +which the air itself cradles and supports, most frequently without +being otherwise connected with them than by guiding them at their need +and their caprice. + +A life of ease, yet sublime! With what a glance of scorn may the +weakest bird regard the strongest, the swiftest of quadrupeds--a tiger, +a lion! How it may smile to see them in their utter powerlessness +bound, fastened to the earth, which they terrify with vain and useless +roaring--with the nocturnal wailings that bear witness to the bondage +of the so-called king of animals, fettered, as we are all, in that +inferior existence which hunger and gravitation equally prepare for us! + +Oh, the fatality of the appetites! the fatality of motion which compels +us to drag our unwilling limbs along the earth! Implacable heaviness +which binds each of our feet to the dull, rude element wherein death +will hereafter resolve us, and says, "Son of the earth, to the earth +thou belongest! A moment released from its bosom, thou shalt lie there +henceforth for ages." + +Do not let us inveigh against nature; it is assuredly the sign that +we inhabit a world still in its first youth, still in a state of +barbarism--a world of essay and apprenticeship, in the grand series +of stars, one of the elementary stages of the sublime initiation. +This planet is the world of a child. And thou, a child thou art. From +this lower school thou shalt be emancipated also; thy wings shall be +majestic and powerful. Thou shalt win and deserve, while here, by the +sweat of thy brow, a step forward in liberty. + +Let us make an experiment. Ask of the bird while still in the egg what +he would wish to be; give him the option. Wilt thou be a man, and share +in that royalty of the globe which men have won by art and toil? + +No, he will immediately reply. Without calculating the immense +exertion, the labour, the sweat, the care, the life of slavery by which +we purchase sovereignty, he will have but one word to say: "A king +myself, by birth, of space and light, why should I abdicate when man, +in his loftiest ambition, in his highest aspirations after happiness +and freedom, dreams of becoming a bird, and taking unto himself wings?" + +It is in his sunniest time, his first and richest existence, in his +day-dreams of youth, that man has sometimes the good fortune to forget +that he is a man, a slave to hard fate, and chained to earth. Behold, +yonder, him who flies abroad, who hovers, who dominates over the world, +who swims in the sunbeam; he enjoys the ineffable felicity of embracing +at a glance an infinity of things which yesterday he could only see one +by one. Obscure enigma of detail, suddenly made luminous to him who +perceives its unity! To see the world beneath one's self, to embrace, +to love it! How divine, how lofty a dream! Do not wake me, I pray +you, never wake me! But what is this? Here again are day, uproar, and +labour; the harsh iron hammer, the ear-piercing bell with its voice of +steel, dethrone and dash me headlong; my wings are rent. Dull earth, I +fall to earth; bruised and bent, I return to the plough. + +When, at the close of the last century, man formed the daring idea of +giving himself up to the winds, of mounting in the air without rudder, +or oar, or means of guidance, he proclaimed aloud that at length he +had secured his pinions, had eluded nature, and conquered gravitation. +Cruel and tragical catastrophes gave the lie to this ambition. He +studied the economy of the bird's wing, he undertook to imitate it; +rudely enough he counterfeited its inimitable mechanism. We saw with +terror, from a column of a hundred feet high, a poor human bird, armed +with huge wings, dart into air, wrestle with it, and dash headlong into +atoms. + +The gloomy and fatal machine, in its laborious complexity, was a sorry +imitation of that admirable arm (far superior to the human arm), that +system of muscles, which co-operate among themselves in so vigorous +and lively a movement. Disjointed and relaxed, the human wing lacked +especially that all-powerful muscle which connects the shoulder to the +chest (the _humerus_ to the _sternum_), and communicates its impetus to +the thunderous flight of the falcon. The instrument acts so directly +on the mover, the oar on the rower, and unites with him so perfectly +that the martinet, the frigate-bird, sweeps along at the rate of eighty +leagues an hour, five or six times swifter than our most rapid railway +trains, outstripping the hurricane, and with no rival but the lightning. + + [Illustration] + +But even if our poor imitators had exactly imitated the wing, nothing +would have been accomplished. They, then, had copied the form, but +not the internal structure. They thought that the bird's power of +ascension lay in its flight alone, forgetting the secret auxiliary +which nature conceals in the plumage and the bones. The mystery, the +true marvel lies in the faculty with which she endows the bird, of +rendering itself light or heavy at its will, of admitting more or less +of air into its expressly constructed reservoirs. Would it grow light, +it inflates its dimension, while diminishing its relative weight; by +this means it spontaneously ascends in a medium heavier than itself. +To descend or drop, it contracts itself, grows thin and small; cutting +through the air which supported and raised it in its former heavy +condition. Here lay the error, the cause of man's fatal ignorance. He +assumed that the bird was a ship, not a balloon. He imitated the wing +only; but the wing, however skilfully imitated, if not conjoined with +this internal force, is but a certain means of destruction. + + [Illustration] + +But this faculty, this rapid inhalation or expulsion of air, of +swimming with a ballast variable at pleasure, whence does it proceed? +From an unique, unheard-of power of respiration. The man who should +inhale a similar quantity of air at once would be suffocated. The +bird's lung, elastic and powerful, quaffs it, grows full of it, grows +intoxicated with vigour and delight, pours it abundantly into its +bones, into its aerial cells. Each aspiration is renewed second after +second with tremendous rapidity. The blood, ceaselessly vivified with +fresh air, supplies each muscle with that inexhaustible energy which +no other being possesses, and which belongs only to the elements. + +The clumsy image of Antæus regaining strength each time he touched +the earth, his mother, does but rudely and weakly render an idea of +this reality. The bird does not need to seek the air that he may be +reinvigorated by touching it; the air seeks and flows into him--it +incessantly kindles within him the burning fires of life. + +It is this, and not the wing, which is so marvellous. Take the pinions +of the condor, and follow in its track, when, from the summit of the +Andes and their Siberian glaciers, it swoops down upon the glowing +shore of Peru, traversing in a minute all the temperatures and all +the climates of the globe, breathing at one breath the frightful mass +of air--scorched, frozen, it matters not. You would reach the earth +stricken as by thunder. + +The smallest bird in this matter shames the strongest quadruped. Place +me, says Toussenel, a chained lion in a balloon, and his harsh roaring +will be lost in space. Far more powerful in voice and respiration, the +little lark mounts upward, trilling its song, and makes itself heard +when it can be seen no longer. Its light and joyous strain, uttered +without fatigue, and costing nothing, seems the bliss of an invisible +spirit which would fain console the earth. + +Strength makes joy. The happiest of beings is the bird, because it +feels itself strong beyond the limits of its action; because, cradled, +sustained by the breath of heaven, it floats, it rises without effort, +like a dream. The boundless strength, the exalted faculty, obscure +among inferior beings, in the bird clear and vital, of deriving at will +its vigour from the maternal source, of drinking in life at full flood, +is a divine intoxication. + +The tendency of every human being--a tendency wholly rational, not +arrogant, not impious--is to liken itself to Nature, the great Mother, +to fashion itself after her image, to crave a share of the unwearied +wings with which Eternal Love broods over the world. + +Human tradition is fixed in this direction. Man does not wish to be +a man, but an angel, a winged deity. The winged genii of Persia +suggest the cherubim of Judea. Greece endows her Psyche with wings, +and discovers the true name of the soul, #asthma#, _aspiration_. The +soul has preserved her pinions; has passed at one flight through the +shadowy Middle Age, and constantly increases in heavenly longings. More +spotless and more glowing, she gives utterance to a prayer, breathed +in the very depths of her nature and her prophetic ardour: "Oh, that I +were a bird!" saith man. + +Woman never doubts but that her offspring will become an angel. She has +seen it so in her dreams. + +Dreams or realities? Winged visions, raptures of the night, which we +shall weep so bitterly in the morning! If ye really _were_! If, indeed, +ye lived! If we had lost some of the causes of our regret! If, from +stars to stars, re-united, and launched on an eternal flight, we all +performed in companionship a happy pilgrimage through the illimitable +goodness! + +At times one is apt to believe it. Something whispers us that these +dreams are not all dreams, but glimpses of a world of truth, momentary +flashes revealed through these lower clouds, certain promises to be +hereafter fulfilled, while the pretended reality it is that should be +stigmatized as a foul delusion. + + [Illustration] + + + + + [Illustration: THE FIRST FLUTTERINGS OF THE WING.] + + + + + [Illustration] + + + + +THE FIRST FLUTTERINGS OF THE WING. + + +There is never a man, unlettered, ignorant, exhausted, insensible, +who can deny himself a sentiment of reverence, I might almost say of +terror, on entering the halls of our Museum of Natural History. + +No foreign collection, as far as my knowledge extends, produces this +impression. + +Others, undoubtedly, as the superb museum of Leyden, are richer in +particular branches; but none are more complete, none more harmonious. +This sublime harmony is felt instinctively; it imposes and seizes +on the mind. The inattentive traveller, the chance visitor, is +unwillingly affected; he pauses, and he dreams. In the presence of +this vast enigma, of this immense hieroglyph which for the first time +is displayed before him, he may consider himself fortunate if he can +read a character or spell a letter. How often have different classes +of persons, surprised and tormented by such fantastic forms, inquired +of us their meaning! A word has set them in the right path, a simple +indication charmed them; they have gone away contented, and promising +themselves to return. On the other hand, they who traversed this ocean +of unknown objects without comprehending them, have departed fatigued +and melancholy. + +Let us express our wish that an administration so enlightened, so high +in the ranks of science, may return to the original constitution of the +museum, which appointed _gardiens démonstrateurs_--attendants who were +also cicerones--and will only admit as guardians of this treasure men +who can understand it, and, on occasion, become its interpreters. + +Another wish we dare to form is, that by the side of our renowned +naturalists they will place those courageous navigators, those +persevering travellers who, by their labours, their fruits, by a +hundred times hazarding their lives, have procured for us these costly +spoils. Whatever their intrinsic value, it is, perhaps, increased by +the heroism and grandeur of heart of these adventurers. This charming +colibris,[14] madam, a winged sapphire in which you could see only a +useless object of personal decoration, do you know that an Azara[15] or +a Lesson[16] has brought it from murderous forests where one breathes +nothing but death? This magnificent tiger, whose skin you admire, are +you aware that before it could be planted here, there was a necessity +that it should be sought after in the jungles, encountered face to +face, fired at, struck in the forehead by the intrepid Levaillant?[17] +These illustrious travellers, ardent lovers of nature, often without +means, often without assistance, have followed it into the deserts, +watched and surprised it in its mysterious retreats, voluntarily +enduring thirst and hunger and incredible fatigues; never complaining, +thinking themselves too well recompensed, full of devotion, of +gratitude at each fresh discovery; regretting nothing in such an event, +not even the death of La Perouse[18] or Mungo Park,[19] death by +shipwreck, or death among the savages. + + [Illustration] + +Bid them live again here in our midst! If their lonely life flowed +free from Europe for Europe's benefit, let their images be placed in +the centre of the grateful crowd, with a brief exposition of their +fortunate discoveries, their sufferings, and their sublime courage. +More than one young man shall be moved by the sight of these heroes, +and depart to dream enthusiastically of following in their footsteps. + +Herein lies the twofold grandeur of the place. Its treasures were sent +by heroic men, and they were collected, classified, and harmonized by +illustrious physicists, to whom all things flowed as to a legitimate +centre, and whom their position, no less than their intellect, induced +to accomplish here the centralization of nature. + +In the last century, the great movement of the sciences revolved around +a man of genius, influential by his rank, his social relations, his +fortune--M. the Count de Buffon. All the donations of men of science, +travellers, and kings, came to him, and by him were classified in this +museum. In our own days a grander spectacle has fixed upon this spot +the eager eyes of all the nations of the world, when two mighty men (or +rather two systems), Cuvier and Geoffroy, made this their battle-field. +All the world enrolled itself on the one side or the other; all took +part in the strife, and despatched to the Museum, either in support of +or opposition to the experiments, books, animals, or facts previously +unknown. Hence these collections, which one might suppose to be dead, +are really living; they still throb with the recollections of the fray, +are still animated by the lofty minds which invoked all these beings to +be the witnesses of their prolific struggle. + +It is no fortuitous gathering yonder. It consists of closely connected +series, formed and systematically arranged by profound thinkers. Those +species which form the most curious transitions between the genera are +richly represented. There you may see, far more fully than elsewhere, +what Linné and Lamarck have said, that just as our museums gradually +grew richer, became more complete, exhibited fewer _lacunæ_, we should +be constrained to acknowledge that nature does nothing abruptly, in +all things proceeds by gentle and insensible transitions. Wherever we +seem to see in her works a bound, a chasm, a sudden and inharmonious +interval, let us ascribe the fault to ourselves; that blank is our own +ignorance. + + [Illustration] + +Let us pause for a few moments at the solemn passages where life +uncertain seems still to oscillate, where Nature appears to question +herself, to examine her own volition. "Shall I be fish or mammal?" +says the creature. It falters, and remains a fish, but warm-blooded; +belongs to the mild race of lamentins and seals. "Shall I be bird or +quadruped?" A great question; a perplexed hesitancy--a prolonged and +changeful combat. All its various phases are discussed; the diverse +solutions of the problems naïvely suggested and realized by fantastic +beings like the ornithorhynchus, which has nothing of the bird but +the beak; like the poor bat, a tender and innocent animal in its +family-circle, but whose undefined form makes it grim-looking and +unfortunate. You perceive that nature has sought in it _the wing_, and +found only a hideous membranous skin, which nevertheless performs a +wing's function: + + "I am a bird; see you my wings?" + +Yes; but even the wing does not make the bird. + + [Illustration] + +Place yourself towards the centre of the museum, and close to the +clock. There you perceive, on your left, the first rudiment of the wing +in the penguin of the southern pole, and its brother, the Arctic auk, +one degree more developed; scaly winglets, whose glittering feathers +rather recall the fish than the bird. On land the creature is feeble; +but while earth is difficult for it, air is impossible. Do not complain +too warmly. Its prescient mother destines it for the Polar Seas, where +it will only need to paddle. She clothes it carefully in a fine coat +of fat and an impenetrable covering. She will have it warm among the +icebergs. Which is the better means? It seems as if she had hesitated, +had wavered. By the side of the booby we see with surprise an essay +at quite another genus, yet one not less remarkable as a maternal +precaution. I refer to a very rare gorfou--which I have seen in no +other museum--attired in the rough skin of a quadruped, resembling a +goat's fleece, but more shining, perhaps, in the living animal, and +certainly impermeable to water. + +To link together the birds which do not fly, we must find the +connecting point in the navigator of the desert--the bird-camel, the +ostrich, resembling the camel itself in its internal structure. At +least, if its imperfect wings cannot raise it above the earth, they +assist it powerfully in walking, and endow it with extraordinary +swiftness: it is the sail with which it skims its arid African ocean. + +Let us return to the penguin, the true starting-point of the series--to +the penguin, whose rudimentary pinion cannot be employed as a sail, +does not aid it in walking, is only an indication, like a memorial of +nature. + + [Illustration] + +She loosens her bonds, she rises with difficulty in a first attempt +at flight by means of two strange figures, which appear to us both +grotesque and pretentious. The penguin is not of these; a simple, silly +creature, you see that it never had the ambition to fly. But here are +they who emancipate themselves, who seem in quest of the adornment or +the grace of motion. The gorfou may be taken for a penguin which has +decided to quit its condition. It assumes a coquettish tuft of plumes, +that throws into high relief its ugliness. The shapeless puffin, which +seems the very caricature of a caricature, the paroquet, resembles +it in its great beak, rudely chipped, but without edge or strength. +Tail-less and ill-balanced, it may always be upset by the weight of its +large head. It ventures, nevertheless, to flutter about, at the hazard +of toppling over. It swoops nobly close to the surface of earth, and +is, perhaps, the envy of the penguins and the seals. Sometimes it even +risks itself at sea--ill-fated ship, which the lightest breeze will +wreck! + +It is, however, impossible to deny that the first flight is taken. +Birds of various kinds carry on the enterprise more successfully. The +rich genus of _divers_ (Brachypteræ), in its species widely different, +connects the sailor-birds with the natatores, or swimmers: those, with +wings perfected, with a bold and secure flight, accomplish the longest +voyages; these, still clothed with the glittering feathers of the +penguin, frisk and sport at the bottom of the seas. They want but fins +and respiratory organs to become actual fishes. They are alternately +masters of both elements, air and water. + + [Illustration] + + + + + [Illustration: TRIUMPH OF THE WING.] + + + + + [Illustration] + + + + +TRIUMPH OF THE WING. + +THE FRIGATE BIRD. + + +Let us not attempt to particularize all the intermediate gradations. +Let us proceed to yonder snow-white bird, which I perceive floating +on high among the clouds; the bird which one sees everywhere--on the +water, on land, on rocks alternately concealed and exposed by the +waves; the bird which one loves to watch, familiar as it is, and +greedy, and which might well be named "the little vulture of the seas." +I speak of those myriads of petrels, or gulls, with whose hoarse cries +every waste resounds. Find me, if you can, creatures endowed with +fuller liberty. Day and night, south or north, sea or shore, dead prey +or living, all is one to them. Using everything, at home everywhere, +they indifferently display their white sails from the waves to the +heaven; the fresh breeze, ever shifting and changing, is the bounteous +wind which always blows in the direction they most desire. + +What are they but air, sea, the elements, which have taken wing and +fly? I know nothing of it. To see their gray eye, stern and cold (never +successfully imitated in our museums), is to see the gray, indifferent +sea of the north in all its icy impassiveness. What do I say? That sea +exhibits more emotion. At times phosphorescent and electrical, it will +rise into strong animation. Old Father Ocean, saturnine and passionate, +often revolves, under his pale countenance, a host of thoughts. His +sons, the goëlands, have less of animal life than he has. They fly, +with their dead eyes seeking some dead prey; and in congregated flocks +they expedite the destruction of the great carcasses which float upon +the sea for their behoof. Not ferocious in aspect, amusing the voyager +by their sports, by frequent glimpses of their snowy pinions, they +speak to him of remote lands, of the shores which he leaves behind or +is about to visit, of absent or hoped-for friends. And they are useful +to him, also, by announcing and predicting the coming storm. Ofttimes +their sail expanded warns him to furl his own. + + [Illustration] + +For do not suppose that when the tempest breaks they deign to fold +their wings. Far from this: it is then that they set forth. The storm +is their harvest time; the more terrible the sea, so much the less +easily can the fish escape from these daring fishers. In the Bay of +Biscay, where the ocean-swell, driven from the north-west, after +traversing the Atlantic, arrives in mighty billows, swollen to enormous +heights, with a terrific clash and shock, the tranquil petrels labour +imperturbably. "I saw them," says M. de Quatrefages, "describe in the +air a thousand curves, plunge between two waves, reappear with a fish. +Swiftest when they followed the wind, slowest when they confronted it, +they nevertheless poised always with the same ease, and never appeared +to give a stroke of the wing the more than in the calmest weather. And +yet the billows mounted up the slopes, like cataracts reversed, as high +as the platform of Nôtre Dame, and their spray higher than Montmartre. +They did not appear more moved by it." + + [Illustration] + +Man has not their philosophy. The seaman is powerfully affected when, +at the decline of day, a sudden night darkening over the sea, he +descries, hovering about his barque, an ominous little pigeon, a bird +of funereal black. _Black_ is not the fitting word; black would be +less gloomy: the true tint is that of a smoky-brown, which cannot be +defined. It is a shadow of hell, an evil vision, which strides along +the waters, breasts the billows, crushes under its feet the tempest. +The stormy petrel (or "St. Peter") is the horror of the seaman, who +sees in it, according to his belief, a living curse. Whence does it +come? How is it able to rise at such enormous distances from all land? +What wills it? What does it come in quest of, if not of a wreck? It +sweeps to and fro impatiently, and already selects the corpses which +its accomplice, the atrocious and iniquitous sea, will soon deliver up +to its mercies. + +Such are the fables of fear. Less panic-stricken minds would see in +the poor bird another ship in distress, an imprudent navigator, which +has also been surprised far from shore and without an asylum. Our +vessel is for him an island, where he would fain repose. The track of +the barque, which rides through both wind and wave, is in itself a +refuge, a succour against fatigue. Incessantly, with nimble flight, +he places the rampart of the vessel between himself and the tempest. +Timid and short-sighted, you see it only when it brings the night. +Like ourselves, it dreads the storm--it trembles with fear--it would +fain escape--and like you, O seaman, it sighs, "What will become of my +little ones?" + +But the black hour passes, day reappears, and I see a small blue point +in the heaven. Happy and serene region, which has rested in peace far +above the hurricane! In that blue point, and at an elevation of ten +thousand feet, royally floats a little bird with enormous pens. A gull? +No; its wings are black. An eagle? No; the bird is too small. + +It is the little ocean-eagle, first and chief of the winged race, the +daring navigator who never furls his sails, the lord of the tempest, +the scorner of all peril--the man-of-war or frigate-bird. + +We have reached the culminating point of the series commenced by the +wingless bird. Here we have a bird which is virtually nothing more +than wings: scarcely any body--barely as large as that of the domestic +cock--while his prodigious pinions are fifteen feet in span. The great +problem of flight is solved and overpassed, for the power of flight +seems useless. Such a bird, naturally sustained by such supports, +need but allow himself to be borne along. The storm bursts; he mounts +to lofty heights, where he finds tranquillity. The poetic metaphor, +untrue when applied to any other bird, is no exaggeration when applied +to him: literally, he sleeps upon the storm. + +When he chooses to oar his way seriously, all distance vanishes: he +breakfasts at the Senegal; he dines in America. + +Or, if he thinks fit to take more time, and amuse himself _en +route_, he can do so. He may continue his progress through the night +indefinitely, certain of reposing himself. Upon what? On his huge +motionless wing, which takes upon itself all the weariness of the +voyage; or on the wind, his slave, which eagerly hastens to cradle him. + +Observe, moreover, that this strange being is gifted with the proud +prerogative of fearing nothing in this world. Little, but strong and +intrepid, he braves all the tyrants of the air. He can despise, if need +be, the pygargue and the condor: those huge unwieldy creatures will +with great difficulty have put themselves in motion when he shall have +already achieved a distance of ten leagues. + +Oh, it is then that envy seizes us, when, amid the glowing azure of +the Tropics, at incredible altitudes, almost imperceptible in the dim +remoteness, we see him triumphantly sweeping past us--this black, +solitary bird, alone in the waste of heaven: or, at the most, at a +lower elevation, the snow-white sea-swallow crosses his flights in easy +grace! + +Why dost not thou take me upon thy pens, O king of the air, thou +fearless and unwearied master of space, whose wondrously swift +flight annihilates time? Who more than thou is raised above the mean +fatalities of existence? + +One thing, however, has astonished me: that, when contemplated from +near at hand, the first of the winged kingdom should have nothing of +that serenity which a free life promises. His eye is cruelly hard, +severe, mobile, unquiet. His vexed attitude is that of some unhappy +sentinel doomed, under pain of death, to keep watch over the infinity +of ocean. He visibly exerts himself to see afar. And if his vision does +not avail him, the doom is on his dark countenance; nature condemns +him, he dies. + +On looking at him closely, you perceive that he has no feet. Or at all +events, feet which being palmate and exceedingly short, can neither +walk nor perch. With a formidable beak, he has not the talons of a +true eagle of the sea. A pseudo-eagle, and superior to the true in his +daring as in his powers of flight, he has not, however, his strength, +his invincible grasp. He strikes and slays: can he seize? + +Thence arises his life of uncertainty and hazard--the life of a corsair +and a pirate rather than of a mariner--and the fixed inquiry ever +legible on his countenance: "Shall I feed? Shall I have wherewithal to +nourish my little ones this evening?" + + [Illustration] + +The immense and superb apparatus of his wings becomes on land a danger +and an embarrassment. To raise himself he needs a strong wind and a +lofty station, a promontory, a rock. Surprised on a sandy level, on +the banks, the low reefs where he sometimes halts, the frigate-bird is +defenceless; in vain he threatens, he strikes, for a blow from a stick +will overcome him. + +At sea, those vast wings, of such admirable utility in ascent, are +ill-fitted for skimming the surface of the water. When wetted, they may +over-weight and sink him. And thereupon, woe to the bird! He belongs to +the fishes, he nourishes the mean tribes on which he had relied for his +own behoof; the game eats the hunter, the ensnarer is ensnared. + +And yet, what shall he do? His food lies in the waters. He is ever +compelled to draw near them, to return to them, to skim incessantly the +hateful and prolific sea which threatens to engulf him. + +Thus, then, this being so well-armed, winged, superior to all others +in power of flight and vision as in daring, leads but a trembling and +precarious life. He would die of hunger had he not the industry to +create for himself a purveyor, whom he cheats of his food. His ignoble +resource, alas, is to attack a dull and timorous bird, the noddy, +famous as a fisher. The frigate-bird, which is of no larger dimensions, +pursues him, strikes him on the neck with his beak, and constrains him +to yield up his prey. All these incidents transpire in the air; before +the fish can fall, he catches it on its passage. + +If this resource fail, he does not shrink from attacking man. "On +landing at Ascension Island," says a traveller, "we were assailed by +some frigate-birds. One tried to snatch a fish out of my very hand. +Others alighted on the copper where the meat was being cooked to carry +it off, without taking any notice of the sailors who were around it." + +Dampier saw some of these birds, sick, aged, or crippled, perched upon +the rocks which seemed their sanatorium, levying contributions upon the +young noddies, their vassals, and nourishing themselves on the results +of their fishing. But in the vigour of their prime they do not rest +on earth; living like the clouds, constantly floating on their vast +wings from one world to the other, patiently awaiting their fortune, +and piercing the infinite heaven--the infinite waters--with implacable +glance. + +The lord of the winged race is he who does not rest. The chief of +navigators is he who never reaches his _bourne_. Earth and sea are +almost equally prohibited to him. He is for ever banished. + + [Illustration] + +Let us envy nothing. No existence is really free here below, no career +is sufficiently extensive, no power of flight sufficiently great, no +wing can satisfy. The most powerful is but a temporary substitute. The +soul waits, demands, and hopes for others:-- + + "Wings to soar above life: + Wings to soar beyond death!" + + [NOTE.--_The Frigate-Bird._ This interesting bird (_Tachypetes_) + is allied to the cormorants, but differs from them in the + possession of a forked tail, short feet, a curved beak, and + extraordinary spread of wing. Its plumage is coloured of a rich + purple black, but the beak is varied with vermilion red, and + the throat with patches of white. It is an inhabitant of the + Tropics, where it lives a predatory life, forcing the gannet and + the gull to disgorge their prey, and retiring to breed in lonely + uninhabited islands. + + Of its voracity, Dr. Chamberlaine gives a curious illustration. + When the fishermen are pursuing their vocation on the sand-banks + in Kingston Harbour, Jamaica, the gulls, pelicans, and other + sea-birds gather round in swarms, and as the loaded net is hauled + ashore, pounce upon their struggling prey. But no sooner does this + take place, than the frigate-birds attack them with such furious + violence that they are glad to surrender their hard-earned booty + to antagonists so formidable. + + The lightness of his body, his short tarsi, his enormous spread + of wing, together with his long, slender, and forked tail, + all combine to give this bird a superiority over his tribe, + not only in length and swiftness of flight, but also in the + capability of maintaining himself on extended pinions in his + aerial realm, where, at times, he will soar so high that his + figure can scarce be discerned by the spectator in this nether + world.--_Translator._] + + + + + [Illustration: THE SHORES.] + + + + + [Illustration] + + + + +THE SHORES. + +DECAY OF CERTAIN SPECIES. + + +I have frequently observed, in my days of sadness, a being sadder +still, which Melancholy might have chosen for its symbol: I mean, the +Dreamer of the Marshes, the meditative bird that, in all seasons, +standing solitarily before the dull waters, seems, along with his +image, to plunge in their mirror his monotonous thought. + +His noble ebon-black crest, his pearl-gray mantle--this semi-royal +mourning contrasts with his puny body and transparent leanness. When +flying, the poor heron displays but a couple of wings; low as is the +elevation to which he rises, there is no longer any question of his +body--he becomes invisible. An animal truly aerial, to bear so light +a frame, the heron has enough, nay, he has a foot too many; he folds +under his wing the other; and nearly always his lame figure is thus +defined against the sky in a fantastical hieroglyph. + + [Illustration] + +Whoever has lived in history, in the study of fallen races and empires, +is tempted to see herein an image of decay. Yonder bird is a great +ruined lord, a dethroned king, or I am much mistaken. No creature +issues from Nature's hands in so miserable a condition. Therefore +I ventured to interrogate this dreamer, and I said to him from a +distance the following words, which his most delicate hearing caught +exactly:--"My fisher-friend, wouldst thou oblige me by explaining +(without abandoning thy present position), why, always so melancholy, +thou seemest doubly melancholy to-day? Hath thy prey failed thee? Have +the too subtle fish deceived thine eyes? Does the mocking frog defy +thee from the bottom of the waters?" + +"No; neither fish nor frogs have made sport of the heron. But the heron +laughs at himself, despises himself, when he remembers the glory of his +noble race, and the bird of the olden times. + +"Thou wouldst know wherefore I dream? Ask the Indian chief of the +Cherokees, or the Iowas, why for long days he leans his head upon his +hand, marking on the tree before him an object which was never there? + +"The earth was our empire, the realm of the aquatic birds in the +Transitional age when, young and fresh, she emerged from the waters. +An era of strife, of battle, but of abundant subsistence. Not a heron +then but earned his life. There was need neither to attack nor pursue; +the prey hunted the hunter; it whistled, or it croaked on every +side. Millions of creatures of undefined natures, bird-frogs, winged +fish, infested the uncertain limits of the two elements. What would +ye have done, ye feeble mortals, the latest-born of the world? The +Bird prepared earth for ye. Colossal encounters were waged against +the enormous monster-births of the ooze; the son of air, the bird, +attaining the dimensions of an Anak, shrunk not from battle with the +giant. If your ungrateful histories have not traced these events, +God's grand record narrates them in the depths of the earth, where she +deposits the conquered and the conquerors, the monsters exterminated by +us, and we who have exterminated them. + +"Your lying myths make us contemporaries of a human Hercules. What had +his club availed against the plesiosaurus? Who would have met, face to +face, the horrible leviathan? The capacity of flight was absolutely +needed, the strong intrepid wing which from the loftiest height bore +downwards the Herculean bird, the epiornis, an eagle twenty feet in +stature, and fifty feet from wing-tip to wing-tip, the implacable +hunter, who, lord of three elements, in the air, in the water, and in +the deep slime, pursued the dragon with ceaseless hostility. + +"Man had perished a hundred times. Through our agency man became +possible on a pacified earth. But who will be astonished that these +awful wars, which lasted for myriads of years, spent the conquerors, +wearied the winged Hercules, transformed him into a feeble Perseus, a +pale and lustreless memory of our heroic times? + +"Lowered in strength and stature, but not in heart, famished by our +very victory, by the disappearance of evil races, by the division of +the elements which held our prey concealed at the bottom of the waters, +we in our turn were hunted upon the earth, in the forests and the +marsh, by those new-comers who, without our help, had never been. The +malice and dexterity of the woodman were fatal to our nests. Like a +coward, in the thick of the branches which impede flight and shackle +combat, he laid his hand on our young ones. A new war, and a less +fortunate one, this, which Homer calls the War of the Pigmies and the +Cranes. The lofty intelligence of the cranes, their truly military +tactics, have not prevented man their enemy from gaining the advantage +by a thousand execrable arts. Time was on his side, and earth, and +nature: she moves forward, drying up the earth, exhausting the marshes, +narrowing the undefined region where we reigned. It will be with us, +in the end, as with the beaver. Many species perish: another century, +perhaps, and the heron _will have_ lived." + +The story is too true. Except those species which have taken their +side, have abandoned earth, have given themselves up frankly and +unreservedly to the liquid element; except the divers, the cormorant, +the wise pelican, and a few others, the aquatic tribes seem in a state +of decay. Restlessness and sobriety maintain them still. It is this +persistent anxiety which has gifted the pelican with a peculiar organ, +hollowing for her under her distended beak a movable reservoir, a +living sign of economy and of attentive foresight. + +Others, skilful voyagers, like the swan, live by constantly changing +their abode. But the swan herself, which, though uneatable, is trained +by man on account of her beauty and her grace--the swan, formerly so +common in Italy, and to which Virgil so constantly refers, is now very +rare there. In vain the traveller would seek for those snow-white +flotillas which covered with their sails the waters of the Mincio, the +marshes of Mantua; which mourned for Phaëton in despite of his sisters, +or in their sublime flight, pursuing the stars with harmonious song, +repeated to them the name of Varus.[20] + +That song, of which all antiquity speaks, is it a fable? These organs +of singing, which are so largely developed in the swan, were they +always useless? Did they never disport themselves in happy freedom when +enjoying a more genial atmosphere, and spending the greater portion of +the year in the mild climates of Greece and Italy? One might be tempted +to believe it. The swan, driven back to the north, where his amours +secure mystery and repose, has sacrificed his song, has gained the +accent of barbarism, or become voiceless. The muse is dead; the bird +has survived. + + [Illustration] + +Gregarious, disciplined, full of tactic and resources, the crane, the +superior type of intelligence among these species, might contrive, one +would fancy, to prosper, and to maintain herself everywhere in her +ancient royalty. She has lost two kingdoms, however: France, where +she now only appears as a bird of passage; England, where she rarely +ventures to deposit her eggs. + +The heron, in the days of Aristotle, was full of industry and +sagacity. The ancients consulted him in reference to fine weather +or tempest, as one of the gravest of augurs. Fallen in the mediæval +days, but preserving his beauty, his heavenward flight, he was still +a prince, a feudal bird; kings esteemed it kingly sport to hunt him, +and considered him a meet quarry for the noble falcon. And so keenly +was he hunted, that already, in the reign of Francis I., he had grown +rare: that monarch lodged him near his own palace at Fontainebleau, +and established there some heronries. Two or three centuries pass, +and Buffon can still believe that there are no provinces in France +where heronries could not be found. In our own days, Toussenel knows +of but one in all the country--at least in its northern districts, in +Champagne: a wood between Rheims and Epernay conceals the last asylum +where the poor lonely bird still dares to hide his loves. + + [Illustration] + +Lonely! In that lies his condemnation. Less gregarious than the crane, +less domesticated than the stork, he seems to have grown harsh towards +his progeny, towards the mate whom he loves. His brief rare fits of +desire scarcely beguile him for a day from his melancholy. He cares +little for life. In captivity he often refuses nourishment, and pines +away without complaint and without regret. + +The aquatic birds, creatures of great experience, for the most part +reflective and learned in two elements, were, at their palmiest epoch, +more advanced than many others. They well deserved the care of man. All +of them possessed merits of diverse originality. The social instinct of +the cranes, and their various imitative talent, rendered them amusing +and agreeable. The joviality of the pelican, and his joyous humour; +the tenderness of the goose, and his strong faculty of attachment; +and, finally, the good disposition of the storks, their piety towards +their aged parents, confirmed by so many witnesses, formed between this +world and our own firm ties of sympathy, which human levity ought not +barbarously to have rent asunder. + + [Illustration] + + [NOTE.--_Heronries in England._ The heron, though rare in England, + is certainly not so scarce as he seems to be in France, perhaps + because it is against the laws of sport to hunt him. In some + districts the man who shot a heron would be regarded with as much + scorn as if he had killed a fox. He is a very rapacious bird, and + it is asserted that, on an average, he will destroy daily half a + hundred small roach and dace. + + There is a fine heronry at Cobham, near Gravesend, in Kent, the + seat of the Earl of Darnley. Another, in Great Sowdens Wood, on + the Rye road, one mile from Udimere, in Sussex, contains fully + four hundred nests. That at Parham, the Hon. R. Curzon's beautiful + seat has quite a history. + + The original birds were brought from Wales to Penshurst, by the + Earl of Leicester's steward, in the reign of James I. Thence, some + two centuries later, they migrated to Michel Grove, at Angmering. + It may be about twenty years since that the Duke of Norfolk + caused two or three trees to be felled near their retreat, and + the offended birds immediately commenced their migrations, and, + in the course of three seasons, all assembled in Parham Woods. + Here, in the thick shelter of pine and spruce-fir, are now about + fifty-seven nests. (See Knox's "Ornithological Rambles in Kent and + Sussex.")--_Translator._] + + [Illustration] + + + + + [Illustration: THE HERONRIES OF AMERICA.] + + + + + [Illustration] + + + + +THE HERONRIES OF AMERICA. + +WILSON, THE ORNITHOLOGIST. + + +The decay of the heron is less perceptible in America. He is not so +frequently hunted. The solitudes are of vaster dimensions. He can +still find, among his beloved marshes, gloomy and almost impenetrable +forests. In these shadowy recesses he is more gregarious: ten or +fifteen "domestic exiles" establish themselves in the same locality, or +at but a short distance from each other. The complete obscurity which +the huge cedars throw over the livid waters re-assures and rejoices +them. Towards the summit of these trees they build with sticks a wide +platform, which they cover with small branches: this is the residence +of the family, and the shelter of their loves; there, the eggs are +laid and hatched in quiet, the young are taught to fly, and all those +paternal lessons are given which will perfect the young fisher. They +have little cause to fear the intrusion of man into their peaceful +retreats: these they find near the sea-shore, especially in North and +South Carolina, in low swampy levels, the haunt of yellow fever. Such +morasses--an ancient arm of the sea or a river, an old swamp left +behind in the gradual recession of the waters--extend sometimes over +a length of five or six miles, and a breadth of one mile. The entry +is not very inviting: a barrier of trees confronts you, their trunks +perfectly upright and stripped of branches, fifty or sixty feet high, +and bare to the very summit, where they mingle and bring together +their leafy arches of sombre green, so as to shed upon the waters an +ominous twilight. What waters! A seething mass of leaves and débris, +where the old stems rise pell-mell one upon another; the whole of a +muddy yellow colour, coated on the surface with a green frothy moss. +Advance, and the seemingly firm expanse is a quicksand, into which you +plunge. A laurel-tree at each step intercepts you; you cannot pass +without a painful struggle with their branches, with wrecks of trees, +with laurels constantly springing up afresh. Rare gleams of light +shoot athwart the darkness, and the silence of death prevails in these +terrible regions. Except the melancholy notes of two or three small +birds, which you catch at intervals, or the hoarse cry of the heron, +all is dumb and desolate; but when the wind rises, from the summit +of the trees comes the heron's moans and sighs. If the storm bursts, +these great naked cedars, these tall "ammiral's masts," waver and clash +together; the forest roars, cries, groans, and imitates with singular +exactness the voices of wolves, and bears, and all the beasts of prey. + +It was not then without astonishment that, about 1805, the heron, thus +securely settled, saw a rare face, a man's, roaming under their cedars, +and in the open swamp. One man alone was capable of visiting them in +their haunts, a patient indefatigable traveller, no less courageous +than peaceable--the friend and the admirer of birds, Alexander Wilson. + +If these people had been acquainted with their visitor's character, far +from feeling terrified at his appearance, they would undoubtedly have +gone forth to meet him, and, with clapping of wings and loud cries, +have given him an amicable salute, a fraternal ovation. + + [Illustration] + +In those terrible years when man waged against man the most destructive +war that had ever been known, there lived in Scotland a man of peace. +A poor Paisley weaver,[21] in his damp dull lodging, he dreamed of +nature, of the infinite liberty of the woods, and, above all, of the +winged life. A cripple, and condemned to inactivity, his very bondage +inspired him with an ecstatic love of light and flight. If he did not +take to himself wings, it was because that sublime gift is, upon earth, +only the dream and hope of another world. + +At first he attempted to gratify his love of birds by the purchase +of those illustrated works which pretend to represent them. Clumsy +caricatures, which convey but a ridiculous idea of their form, and none +at all of their movement; and what _is_ the bird deprived of grace +and motion? These did not suffice. He took a decisive resolution: to +abandon everything, his trade, his country. A new Robinson Crusoe, +he was willing, by a voluntary shipwreck, to exile himself to the +solitudes of America; where he might see with his own eyes, observe, +describe, and paint. He then remembered one little fact: that he +neither knew how to draw, to paint, or to write. But this strong and +patient man, whom no difficulties could discourage, soon learned to +write, and to write an excellent style. A good writer, a minutely +accurate artist, with a delicate and certain hand, he seemed, under +the guidance of Nature, his mother and mistress, less to learn than to +remember. + +Provided with these weapons, he plunges into the desert, the forest, +and the pestiferous savannahs; becomes the friends of buffaloes and the +guest of bears; lives upon wild fruits, under the splendid ceiling of +heaven. Wherever he chances to observe a rare bird, he halts, encamps, +and is "at home." What, indeed, is to there hurry him onward? He has no +house to recall him, and neither wife nor child awaits him. He has a +family, it is true: that great family which he observes and describes. +And friends, he has _them_, too: those which have not yet learned to +mistrust man, and which perch upon his tree, and chatter with him. + +And, O birds, you are right; you have there a truly loyal friend, who +will secure you many others, who will teach men to understand you, +being himself as a bird in thought and heart. One day, perhaps, the +traveller, penetrating into your solitudes, and seeing some of you +fluttering and sparkling in the sun, will be tempted with the hope of +spoil, but will bethink himself of Wilson. Why kill the friends of +Wilson? And when this name flashes on his memory, he will lower his +gun. + +I do not see, let me add, why we should extend to infinity our massacre +of birds, or, at least, of these species which are represented in our +museums, or in the museums painted by Wilson, and his disciple Audubon, +whose truly royal book, exhibiting both race, and the egg, the nest, +the forest, the very landscape, is a rivalry with nature. + + [Illustration] + +These great observers have one speciality which separates them from all +others. Their feeling is so delicate, so precise, that no generalities +could satisfy it; they must always examine the individual. God, I +think, knows nothing of our classifications: he created such and such a +creature, and gives but little heed to the imaginary lines with which +we isolate the species. In the same manner, Wilson knew nothing of +birds in the mass; but such an individual, of such an age, with such +plumage, in such circumstances. He knows it, has seen it, has seen it +again, and again, and he will tell you what it does, what it eats, +how it comports itself, and will relate certain adventures, certain +anecdotes of its life. "I knew a woodpecker. I have frequently seen +a Baltimore." When he uses these expressions, you may wholly trust +yourself to him; they mean that he has held close relations with them +in a species of friendly and family intimacy. Would that we knew the +men with whom we transact business as well as Wilson knew the bird +_qua_, or the heron of the Carolinas! + +It is easily understood, and not difficult to imagine, that when this +_bird-man_ returned among men, he met with none that could comprehend +him. His peculiarly novel originality, his marvellous exactness, his +unique faculty of _individualization_ (the only means of re-making of +re-creating the living being), were the chief obstacles to his success. +Neither publishers nor public cared for more than noble, lofty, and +vague generalities, in faithful observance of Buffon's precept: To +generalize is to ennoble; therefore, adopt the word "general." + +It required time, and, more than all, it required that this fertile +genius should after his death inspire a similar genius, the accurate +and patient Audubon, whose colossal work has astonished and subjugated +the public, by demonstrating that the true and living in representation +of individuality is nobler and more majestic than the forced products +of the generalizing art. + +Wilson's sweetness of disposition, so unworthily misunderstood, shines +forth in his beautiful preface. To some it may appear infantine, but no +innocent heart can be otherwise than moved by it. + +"On a visit to a friend, I found that his young son, about eight or +nine years of age, who had been brought up in the town, but was then +living in the country, had just collected, while wandering in the +fields, a fine nosegay of wild-flowers of every hue. He presented it to +his mother, with the greatest animation, saying: 'Dear mamma, see what +beautiful flowers I have gathered! Oh, I could pluck a host of others +which grow in our woods, and are still more lovely! Shall I not bring +you some more, mamma?' She took the nosegay with a smile of tenderness, +silently admired the simple and touching beauty of nature, and said to +him, 'Yes, my son.' The child started off on the wings of happiness. + +"I saw myself in that child, and was struck with the resemblance. If +my native country receive with gracious indulgence the specimens which +I now humbly offer it, if it express a desire that _I should bring it +some more_, my highest ambition will be satisfied. For, as my little +friend said, our woods are full of them; I can gather numerous others +which are still more beautiful."--(Philadelphia, 1808.) + + [Illustration] + + + + + [Illustration: THE COMBAT.] + + + + + [Illustration] + + + + +THE COMBAT. + +THE TROPICAL REGIONS. + + +A lady of our family, who resided in Louisiana, was nursing her young +child. Every night her sleep was troubled by the strange sensation of +a cold gliding object which sought to draw the milk from her breast. +On one occasion she felt the same impression, and it aroused her. She +sprang up, summoned her attendants; a light was brought; they search +every corner, turn over the bed, and at last discover the frightful +nursling--a serpent of great size and of a dangerous species. The +horror which she felt instantly dried up her milk. + +Levaillant relates that at the Cape of Good Hope, in a circle of +friends, and during a quiet conversation, the lady of the house turned +pale, and uttered a terrible cry. A serpent had crept up her legs, +one of those whose sting is death in a couple of minutes. With great +difficulty it was killed. + +In India, a French soldier, resuming his knapsack which he had placed +on the ground, discovered behind it the dangerous black serpent, +the most venomous of his tribe. He was about to cut it in two when +a merciful Hindu interposed, obtained its pardon, and took up the +serpent. Stung by it, he died immediately. + +Such are the terrors of nature in those formidable climates. But +reptiles, now-a-days rare, are not the greatest curse. In all places +and at all times it is now the insect. Insects everywhere, and in +everything; they possess an infinity of means for attacking you; they +walk, swim, glide, fly; they are in the air, and you breathe them. +Invisible, they make known their presence by the most painful wounds. +Recently, in one of our sea-ports, an official of the customs opened +a parcel of papers brought from the colonies a long time previously. +A fly furiously darted out of it; it pursued, it stung him; two days +afterwards he was a corpse. + +The hardiest of men, the buccaneers and filibusters, declared that of +all dangers and of all pains they dreaded most the wounds of insects. + +Frequently intangible, invisible, irresistible, they are destruction +itself under an unavoidable form. How shall you oppose them when they +make war upon you in legions? Once, at Barbadoes, the inhabitants +observed an immense army of great ants, which, impelled by unknown +causes, advanced in a serried column and in the same direction against +the houses. To kill them was only trouble lost. There were no means +of arresting their progress. At last an ingenious mind fortunately +suggested that trains of gunpowder should be laid across their route, +and set on fire. These volcanoes terrified them, and the torrent of +invasion gradually turned aside. + +No mediæval armoury, with all the strange weapons then made use of; +no chirurgical implement factory, with the thousands of dreadful +instruments invented by modern art, can be compared with the monstrous +armour of Tropical insects--their pincers, their nippers, their teeth, +their saws, their horns, their augers, all their tools of combat, of +death, and of dissection, with which they come armed to the battle, +with which they labour, pierce, cut, rend, and finely partition, with +skill and dexterity equal to their furious blood-thirstiness. + +Our grandest works may not defy the energetic force of these terrible +legions. Give them a ship of the line--what do I say? a town--to +devour, and they charge at it with eager joy. In course of time +they have excavated under Valentia, near Caraccas, vast abysses and +catacombs; the city is now literally suspended. A few individuals of +this voracious tribe, unfortunately transported to Rochelle, have set +to work to eat up the place, and already more than one edifice trembles +upon timbers which are only externally sound, and at the core are +rotten. + +What would be the fate of a man given up to the insects? One dares +not think of it. An unfortunate wretch, while intoxicated, fell down +near a carcass. The insects which were devouring the dead could +not distinguish from it the living; they took possession of his +body, entered at every avenue, filled all the natural cavities. It +was impossible to save him. He expired in the midst of frightful +convulsions. + +In those lands of fire, where the rapidity of decomposition renders +every corpse dangerous, where all death threatens life, these terrible +accelerators of the disappearance of animal bodies multiply _ad +infinitum_. A corpse scarcely touches the earth before it is seized, +attacked, disorganized, dissected. Only the bones are left. Nature, +endangered by her own fecundity, invites, stimulates, encourages +them by the heat, by the irritation of a world of spices and acrid +substances. She makes them furious hunters, insatiable gluttons. +The tiger and the lion, compared with the vulture, are mild, sober, +moderate creatures; but what is the vulture in the presence of an +insect which, in four-and-twenty hours, consumes thrice its own weight? + +Greece personified nature under the calm and noble image of Cybele +chariot-drawn by lions. India dreams of her god Siva, the divinity of +life and death, who incessantly winks his eye, never gazing fixedly, +because his single glance would reduce all the worlds to dust. How weak +these fancies of men in the presence of the reality! What avail their +fictions before the burning centre where, by atoms or by seconds, life +dies, is born, blazes, scintillates? Who could sustain the thunderous +flash without reeling and without terror? + + [Illustration] + +Just, indeed, and legitimate, is the traveller's hesitancy at the +entrance of these fearful forests where Tropical Nature, under forms +oftentimes of great beauty, wages her keenest strife. It is the place +to pause when one knows that the most formidable defence of the Spanish +fortresses is found in a simple grove of cactus, which, planted around +them, speedily swarms with serpents. You frequently detect there a +strong odour of musk, a nauseous, a sinister odour. It tells you that +you are treading on the very dust of the dead: the wreck of animals +which possessed that peculiar savour, tiger-cats, and crocodiles, +vultures, vipers, and rattle-snakes. + +The peril is greatest, perhaps, in those virgin-forests where +everything is eloquent of life, where nature's seething crucible +eternally boils and bubbles. + +Here and there their living shadows thicken with a threefold +canopy--the colossal trees, the entwining and interlacing lianas, and +herbs of thirty feet high with magnificent leaves. At intervals, these +herbs sink into the ancient primeval slime; while, at the height of a +hundred feet, the lofty and puissant flowers break through the deep +night to display themselves in the burning sun. + +In the clearances--the narrow alleys where his rays penetrate--there +is a scintillation, an eternal murmuring, of beetles, butterflies, +humming-birds, and fly-catchers--gems animated and mobile, which +incessantly flutter to and fro. At night--a far more astonishing +scene!--begins the fairylike illumination of shining fire-flies, which, +by thousands of millions, weave the most fantastic arabesques, dazzling +fantasias of light, magical scrolls of fire. + +With all this splendour there lurks in the lower levels an obscure +race, a hideous and foul world of caymans, of water-serpents. To the +trunks of enormous trees the fanciful orchids, the well-loved daughters +of fever, the children of a miasmatic atmosphere, quaint vegetable +butterflies, suspend themselves in seeming flight. In these murderous +solitudes they take their delight, and bathe in the putrid swamps, +drink of the death which inspires them with vitality, and, by the +caprice of their unheard-of colours, make sport of the intoxication of +nature. + +Do not yield--defend yourself--let not the fatal charm bow down your +sinking head. Awake! arouse! under a hundred forms the danger surrounds +you. Yellow fever lurks beneath these flowers, and the black _vomito_; +reptiles trail at your feet. If you gave way to fatigue, a noiseless +army of implacable anatomists would take possession of you, and with +a million lancets convert all your tissues into an admirable bit of +lacework, a gauze veil, a breath, nothingness. + +To this all-absorbing abyss of devouring death, of famished life, what +does God oppose to re-assure us? Another abyss, not less famished, +thirsty of life, but less implacable to man. I see the Bird, and I +breathe! + +What! is it in you, ye living flowers, ye winged topazes and sapphires, +that I shall find my safety? Your saving vehemence it is, excited to +the purification of this superabundant and furious fecundity, that +alone renders practicable the entrance to this dangerous realm of +faëry. Were you absent, jealous Nature would perform her mysterious +labour of solitary fermentation, and not even the most daring savant +would venture upon observing her. Who am I here? And how shall I defend +myself? What power would be sufficient? The elephant, the ancient +mammoth, would perish defenceless against a million of deadly darts. +Who will brave them? The eagle or the condor? No; a people far more +mighty--the intrepid and the innumerable legion of fly-catchers. + + [Illustration] + +Humming-birds, colibris, and their brothers of every hue, live with +impunity in these gleaming solitudes where danger lurks on every +side, among the most venomous insects, and upon those mournful plants +whose very shade kills. One of them (crested, green and blue), in the +Antilles, suspends his nest to the most terrible and fatal of trees, to +the spectre whose fatal glance seems to freeze your blood for ever, to +the deadly manchineal. + +Wonder of wonders! It is this parroquet which boldly crops the fruits +of the fearful tree, feeds upon them, assumes their livery, and +appears, from its sinister green, to draw the metallic lustre of its +triumphant wings. + +Life in these winged flames, the humming-bird and the colibri, is so +glowing, so intense, that it dares every poison. They beat their wings +with such swiftness that the eye cannot count the pulsations; yet, +meanwhile, the bird seems motionless completely inert and inactive. He +maintains a continual cry of _hour! hour!_ until, with head bent, he +plunges the dagger of his beak to the bottom of the flowers, exhausting +their sweets and the tiny insects among them; all, too, with a motion +so rapid that nothing can be compared to it--a sharp, choleric, +extremely impatient motion, sometimes transported by fury--against +what? against a great bird, which he pursues and hunts to the death; +against an already rifled blossom, which he cannot forgive for not +having waited for him. He rends it, devastates it, and scatters abroad +its petals. + +Leaves, as we know, absorb the poisons in the atmosphere; flowers +exhale them. These birds live upon flowers, upon these pungent flowers, +on their sharp and burning juices, in a word, on poisons. From their +acids they seem to derive their sharp cry and the everlasting agitation +of their angry movements. These contribute, and perhaps much more +directly than light, to enrich them with those strange reflects which +set one thinking of steel, gold, precious stones, rather than of +plumage or blossoms. + +The contrast between them and man is violent. The latter, throughout +these regions, perishes or decays. Europeans who, on the borders of +these forests, attempt the cultivation of the cacao and other colonial +products, quickly succumb. The natives languish, enfeebled and +attenuated. That part of earth where man sinks nearest the level of the +beast is the scene of triumph of the bird, where his extraordinary pomp +of attire, luxurious and superabundant, has justly won for him the name +of bird of paradise. + +It matters not! Whatever their plumage, their hues, their forms, this +great winged populace, the conqueror and devourer of insects, and, in +its stronger species, the eager hunter of reptiles, sweeps over all the +land as man's pioneer, purifying and making ready his abode. They swim +intrepidly on this vast sea of death--this hissing, croaking, crawling +sea--on the terrible, miasmatic vapours, inhaling and defying them. + +It is thus that the great sanitary work, the time-old combat of the +bird against the inferior tribes which might long render the world +uninhabitable by man, is continued throughout the earth. Quadrupeds, +and even man, take in it but a feeble part. It is ever the war of the +winged Hercules. + + [Illustration] + +To him, indeed, inhabited regions owe all their security. In the +furthest Africa, at the Cape, the good serpent-eater defends man +against the reptiles. Peaceable in disposition and gentle in aspect, +he seems to engage without passion in his dangerous encounters. The +gigantic _jabiru_ does not labour less in the deserts of Guiana, where +man as yet ventures not to live. Their perilous savannahs, alternately +inundated and parched, a dubious ocean teeming in the sunshine with +a horrible population of monsters as yet unknown, possess, as their +superior inhabitant, their intrepid scavenger, a noble bird of battle, +retaining some relics of the ancient weapons with which the primeval +birds were very probably provided in their struggle against the dragon. +These are a horn on the head, and a spur on each of the wings. With +the first it stirs up, excites, and rouses out of the mud its enemy. +The others serve as a guard and defence: the reptile which hugs and +folds it in its embrace, at the same time plunges into its own body +these keen darts, and by its constriction, its own actual exertions, is +poniarded. + + [Illustration] + +This brave and beautiful bird, last-born of the ancient worlds and a +surviving witness to forgotten encounters, which is born, lives, and +dies in the slime, in the primitive cloaca, has no stain nevertheless +of his unclean cradle. I know not what moral instinct raises and +supports him above it. His grand and formidable voice, which sways the +desert, announces from afar the gravity and dignified heroism of the +noble and haughty purifier. The kamichi (_Palamedéa cornuta_), as he is +called, is rare; he forms a genus of himself, a species which is not +divided. + +Despising the ignoble promiscuousness of the low world in which he +lives, he lives alone, with but one mate. Undoubtedly, in his career +of war, his mate is also a companion-in-arms. They love, they fight +together; they follow the same destiny. Theirs is that soldierly +marriage of which Tacitus speaks: "_Sic vivendum, sic pereundum_,"--"To +life, to death." When this tender companionship, this consoling +succour, fails the kamichi, he disdains to protract his existence; he +rejoins the loved one which he cannot survive. + + [Illustration] + + + + + [Illustration: PURIFICATION.] + + + + + [Illustration] + + + + +PURIFICATION. + + +In the morning--not at the first blush of dawn, but when the sun +already mounts the horizon--and at the very moment when the cocoa-nut +tree unfolds its leaves, the _urubus_ (or little vultures), perched in +knots of forty or fifty upon its branches, open their brilliant ruby +eyes. The toils of the day demand them. In indolent Africa a hundred +villages invoke them; in drowsy America, south of Panama or Caraccas, +they, swiftest of cleansers, must sweep out and purify the town before +the Spaniard rises, before the potent sun has stirred the carcass and +the mass of rottenness into fermentation. If they failed a single day, +the country would become a desert. + +When it is evening-time in America--when the urubu, his day's work +ended, replaces himself on the cocoa-nut tree--the minarets of Asia +sparkle in the morning's rays. Not less punctual than their American +brothers, vultures, crows, storks, ibises, set out from their balconies +on their various missions: some to the fields, to destroy the insect +and the serpent; others, alighting in the streets of Alexandria or +Cairo, hasten to accomplish their task of municipal scavengering. Did +they but take the briefest holiday the plague would soon be the only +inhabitant of the country. + +Thus, in the two hemispheres, the great work of public health is +performed with solemn and wonderful regularity. If the sun is punctual +in fertilizing life, these scavengers--sworn in and licensed by +nature--are no less punctual in withdrawing from his rays the shocking +spectacle of death. + + [Illustration] + +Seemingly they are not ignorant of the importance of their functions. +Approach them, and they will not retreat. When they have received the +signal from their comrades the crows, which often precede them and +point out their prey, you will see the vultures descend in a cloud +from one knows not whence, as if from heaven! Naturally solitary, and +without communication--mostly silent--they flock to the banquet by the +hundred, and nothing disturbs them. They quarrel not among themselves, +they take no heed of the passer-by. They imperturbably accomplish their +functions in a stern kind of gravity; with decency and propriety; the +corpse disappears, the skin remains. In a moment a frightful mass +of putrid fermentation, which man had never dared to draw near, has +vanished--has re-entered the pure and wholesome current of universal +life. + +It is strange that the more useful they are to us, the more odious +we find them. We are unwilling to accept them for what they are, +to regard them in their true _rôle_, as the beneficent cressets of +living fire through which nature passes everything that might corrupt +the higher life. For this purpose she has provided them with an +admirable apparatus, which receives, destroys, transforms, without +ever rejecting, wearying, or even satisfying itself. Let them devour a +hippopotamus, and they are still famished. To the gulls (those vultures +of the sea) a whale seems but a reasonable morsel! They will dissect +it and clear it away better than the most skilful whalers. As long as +aught of it remains they remain; fire at them, and they intrepidly +return to it in the mouth of your guns. Nothing dislodges the vulture +on the carcass of a hippopotamus. Levaillant killed one of these birds, +which, though mortally wounded, still plucked away scraps of flesh. Was +he starving? Not he; food was found in his stomach weighing six pounds! + +This is automatic gluttony, rather than ferocity. If their aspect is +sad and sombre, nature has favoured them for the most part with a +delicate and feminine ornament, the soft white down about their neck. + +Standing before them, you feel yourself in the presence of the +ministers of death; but of death tranquil and natural, and not of +murder. Like the elements, they are serious, grave, inaccusable, at +bottom innocent--rather, let us say, deserving. Though gifted with +a vital force which resumes, subdues, absorbs everything, they are +subject, more than any other beings, to general influences; are +swayed by the conditions of atmosphere and temperature; essentially +hygrometrical, they are living barometers. The morning's humidity +burdens their heavy wings; the weakest prey at that hour might pass +with impunity before them. So great is their subjection to external +nature, that the American species, perched in uniform ranks on the +cocoa-nut branches, follow, as we have said, the exact hour when the +leaves fold up, retire to rest long before evening, and only awake when +the sun, already high above the horizon, re-opens the leaves of the +tree and their white, heavy eyelids. + +These admirable agents of that beneficent chemistry which preserves and +balances life here below, labour for us in a thousand places where we +ourselves may never penetrate. We clearly discern their presence and +their services in our towns; but no one can measure the full extent +of their benefits in those deserts where every breath of the winds is +death. In the fathomless forest, in the deep morasses, under the impure +shadow of mangoes and mangroves, where ferment the corpses of two +worlds, dashed to and fro by the sea, the great purifying army seconds +and shortens the action both of the waves and the insects. Woe to the +inhabited world, if their mysterious and unknown toil ceased but for an +instant! + +In America these public benefactors are protected by the law. + +Egypt does more for them; she reveres, she loves them. If the +ancient worship no longer exists, they receive from men as kindly an +hospitality as in the time of Pharaoh. Ask an Egyptian fellah why +he allows himself to be infested and deafened by birds? why he so +patiently endures the insolence of the crow posted on his buffalo's +horn or his camel's hump, or gathering on the date-palms in flocks and +beating down the fruit?--he will answer nothing. To the bird everything +is lawful. Older than the Pyramids, he is the ancient inhabitant of the +country. Man is there only through his instrumentality; he could not +exist without the persistent toil of the ibis, the stork, the crow, and +the vulture. + +Hence arises an universal sympathy for the animal, an instinctive +tenderness for all life, which, more than anything else, makes the +charm of the East. The West has its peculiar splendours--in sun and +climate America is not less dazzling; but the moral attraction of +Asia lies in the sentiment of unity which you feel in a world where +man is not divorced from nature; where the primitive alliance remains +unbroken; where the animals are ignorant that they have cause to dread +the human species. Laugh at it if you will; but there is a gentle +pleasure in observing this confidence--in seeing the birds come at the +Brahmin's call to eat from his very hand--in watching the apes on the +pagoda-roofs sleeping in domestic peace, playing with or suckling their +little ones in as much security as in the bosom of their native forests. + + [Illustration] + +"At Cairo," remarks a traveller, "the turtle-doves know so well they +are under the protection of the public, that they live in the midst +of the very clamour of the city. Every day I see them cooing on my +window-shutters, in a very narrow street, at the entrance of a noisy +bazaar, and at the busiest moment of the year, a little before the +Ramadan, when the ceremonies of marriage fill the city day and night +with uproar and tumult. The level roofs of the houses, the usual +promenade of the prisoners of the harem and their slaves, are in like +manner haunted by a crowd of birds. The eagles sleep in confidence on +the balconies of the minarets." + +Conquerors have never failed to turn into derision this gentleness, +this tenderness for animated nature. The Persians, the Romans in Egypt, +our Europeans in India, the French in Algeria, have often outraged and +stricken these innocent brothers of man, the object of his ancient +reverence. A Cambyses slew the sacred cow; a Roman the ibis or cat +which destroyed unclean reptiles. But what means the cow? The fecundity +of the country. And the ibis? Its salubrity. Destroy these animals, +and the country is no longer habitable. That which has saved India and +Egypt through so many misfortunes, and preserved their fertility, is +neither the Nile nor the Ganges; it is respect for animal life, the +mildness and the gentle heart of man. + +Profound in meaning was the speech of the priest of Saïs to the Greek +Herodotus: "You shall be children ever." + +We shall always be so--we, men of the West--subtle and graceful +reasoners, so long as we shall not have comprehended, with a simple and +more exhaustive view, the reason of things. To be a child is to seize +life only by partial glimpses. To be a man is to be fully conscious of +all its harmonious unity. The child disports himself, shatters, and +spurns; he finds his happiness in undoing. And science in its childhood +does the same; it cannot study unless it kills; the sole use which it +makes of a living miracle is, in the first place, to dissect it. None +of us carry into our scientific pursuits that tender reverence for life +which nature rewards by unveiling to us her mysteries. + +Enter the catacombs, where, to employ our haughty language, the rude +monuments sleep of a barbarous superstition; visit the treasure-stores +of India and Egypt; at each step you meet with naïve but not the less +profound intuitions of the essential mystery of life and death. Do +not let the form deceive you; do not look upon this as an artificial +work, fabricated by a priestly hand. Under the strange complexity +and burdensome tyranny of the sacerdotal form, I see two sentiments +everywhere revealing themselves in a human and pathetic manner:-- + +_The effort to save the loved soul_ from the shipwreck of death; + +_The tender brotherhood of man and nature_, the religious sympathy for +the dumb animal as the divine instrument in the protection of human +life. + +The instinct of antiquity perceived what observation and science +declare: that the Bird is the agent of the grand universal transition, +and of purification--the wholesome accelerator of the interchange of +substances. Especially in burning countries, where every delay is a +peril, he is, as Egypt said, the barque of safety which receives the +dead spoil, and causes it to re-enter the domain of life and the world +of purity. + +The fond and grateful Egyptian soul has recognized these benefits, +and wishes for no happiness which it cannot share with the animals, +its benefactors. It does not desire to be saved alone. It endeavours +to associate them in its immortality. It wills that the sacred bird +accompany it to the sombre realm, as if to bear it on its wings. + + [Illustration] + + + + + [Illustration: DEATH.] + + + + + [Illustration] + + + + +DEATH. + +BIRDS OF PREY.--(THE RAPTORES). + + +It was one of my saddest hours when, seeking in nature a refuge from +the thoughts of the age, I for the first time encountered the head of +the viper. This occurred in a valuable museum of anatomical imitations. +The head, marvellously imitated and enormously enlarged, so as to +remind one of the tiger's and the jaguar's, exposed in its horrible +form a something still more horrible. You seized at once the delicate, +infinite, fearfully prescient precautions by which the deadly machine +is so potently armed. Not only is it provided with numerous keen-edged +teeth; not only are these teeth supplied with an ingenious reservoir +of poison which slays immediately; but their extreme fineness, which +renders them liable to fracture, is compensated by an advantage that +perhaps no other animal possesses; namely, a magazine of supernumerary +teeth, to supply at need the place of any accidentally broken. Oh, +what provision for killing! What precautions that the victim shall +not escape! What love for this horrible creature! I stood by it +_scandalized_, if I may so speak, and with a sick soul. Nature, the +great mother, by whose side I had taken refuge, shocked me with a +maternity so cruelly impartial. + +Gloomily I walked away, bearing on my heart a darker shadow than rested +on the day itself, one of the sternest in winter. I had come forth +like a child; I returned home like an orphan, feeling the notion of a +Providence dying away within me. + + [Illustration] + +Our impressions are not less painful when we see in our galleries +the endless series of birds of prey, prowlers by day and night, +frightful masks of birds, phantoms which terrify the day itself. One is +powerfully affected by observing their cruel weapons; I do not refer to +those terrible beaks which kill with a blow, but those talons, those +sharpened saws, those instruments of torture which fix the shuddering +prey, protract the last keen pangs and the agony of suffering. + +Ah! our globe is a barbarous world, though still in its youth; a world +of attempts and rude beginnings, given over to cruel slaveries--to +night, hunger, death, fear! Death? We can accept it; there is in the +soul enough of hope and faith to look upon it as a passage, a stage of +initiation, a gate to better worlds. But, alas, was pain so useful as +to render it necessary to prodigalize it? I feel it, I see it, I hear +it everywhere. Not to hear it, to preserve the thread of my thoughts, +I am forced to stop up my ears. All the activity of my soul would be +suspended, my nerves shattered by it; I should effect nothing more, I +should no longer move forward; my life and powers of production would +remain barren, annihilated by pity! + +"And yet is not pain the warning which teaches us to foresee and +to anticipate, and by every means in our power to ward off our +dissolution? This cruel school is the stimulant and spur of prudence +for all living things--a powerful drawing back of the soul upon itself, +which otherwise would be enfeebled by happiness, by soft and weakening +impressions. + +"May it not be said that happiness has a centrifugal attraction which +diffuses us wholly without, detains us, dissipates us, would evaporate +and restore us to the elements, if we wholly abandoned ourselves to it? +Pain, on the contrary, if experienced at one point, brings back all to +the centre, knits closer, prolongs, ensures and fortifies existence. + +"Pain is in some wise the artist of the world which creates us, +fashions us, sculptures us with the fine edge of a pitiless chisel. It +limits the overflowing life. And that which remains, stronger and more +exquisite, enriched by its very loss, draws thence the gift of a higher +being." + +These thoughts of resignation were awakened by one who was herself a +sufferer, and whose clear eye discerned, even before I myself did, my +troubles and my doubts. + +As the individual, said she again, so is the world. Earth itself has +been benefited by Pain. Nature begot her through the violent action +of these ministers of death. Their species, rapidly growing rarer and +rarer, are the memorials, the evidences of an anterior stage of the +globe in which the inferior life swarmed, while nature laboured to +purge the excessive fecundity. + +We can retrace in thought the scale of the successive necessities of +destruction which the earth was thus constrained to undergo. + +Against the irrespirable air which at first enveloped it, vegetables +were its saviours. Against the suffocating and terrific density of +these lower vegetable forms, the rough coating which encrusted it, +the nibbling, gnawing insect, which we have since execrated, was the +sanitary agent. Against the insect, the frog, and the reptile mass, +the venomous reptile proved an useful expurgator. Finally, when the +higher life, the winged life, took its flight, earth found a barrier +against the too rapid transports of her young fecundity in the powerful +voracious birds, eagles, falcons, or vultures. + + [Illustration] + +But these useful destroyers have diminished in numbers as they have +become less necessary. The swarms of small creeping animals on which +the viper principally whetted his teeth having wonderfully thinned, +the viper also grows rare. The world of winged game being cleared in +its turn, either by man's depredations or by the disappearance of +certain insects on which the small birds lived, you see that the odious +tyrants of the air are also decreasing; the eagle is seldom met with, +even among the Alps, and the exaggerated and enormous prices which +the falcon fetches, seems to prove that the former, the noblest of the +raptores, has now-a-days nearly disappeared. + +Thus nature gravitates towards a less violent order. Does this mean +that death will ever diminish? Death! no; but pain surely. + +The world little by little falls under the power of the Being who alone +understands the useful equilibrium of life and death, who can regulate +it in such wise as to maintain the scale even between the living +species, to encourage them according to their merit or innocence--to +simplify, to soften, and (if I may hazard the word) to moralize death, +by rending it swift, and freeing it from anguish. + +Death was never our serious objection. Is it more than a simple mask +of life's transformations? But pain is an objection, grave, cruel, +terrible. Therefore, little by little, it will disappear from the +earth. Its agents, the fierce executioners of the life which they +plucked out by torture, are already very rare. + +Assuredly, when I survey, in the Museum, the sinister assemblage +of nocturnal and diurnal birds of prey, I do not much regret the +destruction of these species. Whatever pleasure our personal instincts +of violence, our admiration of strength, may cause us to take in +these winged robbers, it is impossible to misread in their deathlike +masks the baseness of their nature. Their pitifully flattened skulls +are sufficient evidence that, though greatly favoured with wing, and +crooked beak, and talons, they have not the least need to make use of +their intelligence. Their constitution, which has made them swiftest +of the swift, strongest of the strong, has enabled them to dispense +with address, stratagem, and tactic. As for the courage with which one +is tempted to endow them, what occasion have they to display it, since +they encounter none but inferior enemies? Enemies? no; victims! When +the rigour of the season, or hunger, drives their young to emigrate, it +leads to the beak of these dull tyrants countless numbers of innocents, +very superior in every sense to their murderers; it prodigalizes the +birds which are artists, and singers, and architects, as a prey to +these vulgar assassins; and for the eagle and the buzzard provides a +banquet of nightingales. + + [Illustration] + +The flattened skull is the degrading sign of these murderers. I trace +it in the most extolled, in those whom man has the most flattered, and +even in the noble falcon; noble, it is true, and I the less dispute the +justice of the title, because, unlike the eagle and other executioners, +it knows how to kill its prey at a blow, and scorns to torture it. + +These birds of prey, with their small brains, offer a striking contrast +to the numerous amiable and plainly intelligent species which we find +among the smaller birds. The head of the former is only a beak; that +of the latter has a face. What comparison can be made between these +brute giants and the intelligent, all-human bird, the robin redbreast, +which at this very moment hovers about me, perches on my shoulder or my +paper, examines my writing, warms himself at the fire, or curiously +peers through the window to see if the spring-time will not soon return. + +If there be any choice among the raptores, I should certainly +prefer--dare I say it?--the vulture to the eagle. Among the bird-world +I have seen nothing so grand, so imposing, as our five Algerian +vultures (in the Jardin des Plantes), posted together like so many +Turkish pachas, adorned with superb cravats of the most delicate white +down, and draped in noble mantles of gray. A solemn divan of exiles, +who seem to discuss among themselves the vicissitudes of things and the +political events which have driven them from their native country. + + [Illustration] + +What real difference exists between the eagle and the vulture? The +eagle passionately loves blood, and prefers living flesh, very rarely +eating the dead. The vulture seldom kills, and directly benefits +life by restoring to its service and to the grand current of vital +circulation the disorganized objects which would associate with others +to their disorganization. The eagle lives upon murder only, and may +justly be entitled the minister of Death. On the contrary, the vulture +is the servant of Life. + +Owing to his strength and beauty, the eagle has been adopted as an +emblem by more than one warrior race which lived, like himself, by +rapine. The Persians and the Romans chose him. We now associate him +with the lofty ideas which these great empires originate. Grave +people--even an Aristotle--have accredited the absurd fable that he +daringly eyed the sun, and put his offspring to the test, by making +them also gaze upon it. Once started on this glorious road, the +philosophers halted no more. Buffon went the furthest. He eulogizes +the eagle for his _temperance_. He does not eat at all, says he. The +truth is, that when his prey is large, he feasts himself on the spot, +and carries but a small portion to his family. The king of the air, +says he again, _disdains small animals_. But observation points to a +directly opposite conclusion. The ordinary eagle attacks with eagerness +the most timid of beings, the hare; the spotted eagle assails the duck. +The booted eagle has a preference for field mice and house mice, and +eats them so greedily that he swallows them without killing them. The +bald-headed eagle, or pygargo, will frequently slay his own young, and +often drives them from the nest before they can support themselves. + + [Illustration] + +Near Havre I have observed one instance of truly royal nobility, and, +above all, of sobriety, in an eagle. A bird, captured at sea, but which +has fallen into far too kindly hands in a butcher's house, is so gorged +with an abundance of food obtained without fighting, that he appears +to regret nothing. A Falstaff of an eagle, he grows fat, and cares no +longer for the chase, or the plains of heaven. If he no longer fixedly +eyes the sun, he watches the kitchen, and for a titbit allows the +children to drag him by the tail. + +If rank is to be decided by strength, the first place must not be +given to the eagle, but to the bird which figures in the "Thousand and +One Nights" under the name of _Roc_, the condor, the giant of gigantic +mountains, the Cordilleras. It is the largest of the vultures--is, +fortunately, the rarest--and the most destructive, as it feeds only on +live prey. When it meets with a large animal, it so gorges itself with +meat that it is unable to stir, and may then be killed with a few blows +of a stick. + +To judge these species truly we must examine the eyrie of the eagle, +the rude, ill-constructed platform which serves for its nest; +compare this rough and clumsy work--I do not say with the delicate +_chef-d'oeuvre_ of a chaffinch's nest--but with the constructions of +insects, the excavations of ants, where the industrious workman varies +his art to infinity, and displays a genius so singular in its foresight +and resources. + +The traditional esteem which man cherishes for the courage of the great +Raptores is much diminished when we read, in Wilson, that a tiny bird, +a fly-catcher, such as the purple martin, will hunt the great black +eagle, pursue it, harass it, banish it from its district, give it not +a moment's repose. It is a truly extraordinary spectacle to see this +little hero, adding all his weight to his strength, that he may make +the greater impression, rise and let himself drop from the clouds on +the back of the large robber, mount without letting go, and prick him +forward with his beak in lieu of a spur. + +Without going so far as America, you may see, in the Jardin des +Plantes, the ascendancy of the little over the great, of mind over +matter, in the singular tête-à-tête of the gypaetus and the crow. The +latter, a very feeble animal, and the feeblest of birds of prey, which +in his black garb has the air of a pedagogue, labours hard to civilize +his brutal fellow-prisoner, the gypaetus. It is amusing to observe +how he teaches him to play--humanizes him, so to speak--by a hundred +tricks of his own invention, and refines his rude nature. This comedy +is performed with special distinction when the crow has a reasonable +number of spectators. It has appeared to me that he disdains to exhibit +his _savoir-faire_ before a single eye-witness. He calculates upon +their assistance, earns their respect in case of need. I have seen +him dart back with his beak the little pebbles which a child had +flung at him. The most remarkable pastime which he teaches to his big +friend is, to make him hold by one end a stick which he himself draws +by the other. This show of a struggle between strength and weakness, +this simulated equality, is well adapted to soften the barbarian, and +though at first he gives but little heed to it, he afterwards yields to +continued urgency, and ends by throwing himself into the sport with a +savage good temper. + + [Illustration] + +In the presence of this repulsively ferocious figure, armed with +invincible talons and a beak tipped with iron, which would kill at +the first blow, the crow has not the least fear. With the security of +a superior mind, before this heavy mass he goes, he comes, he wheels +about, he snatches its prey before its eyes; the other growls, but too +late; his tutor, far more nimble, with his black eye, metallic and +lustrous as steel, has seen the forward movement; he leaps away; if +need be, he climbs a branch or two higher; he growls in his turn--he +admonishes his companion. + +This facetious personage has in his pleasantry the advantage due to the +seriousness, gravity, and sadness of his demeanour. I saw one daily, +in the streets of Nantes, on the threshold of an alley, which, in his +demi-captivity, could only console himself for his clipped wings by +playing tricks with the dogs. He suffered the curs to pass unmolested; +but when his malicious eye espied a dog of handsome figure, worthy +indeed of his courage, he hopped behind him, and, by a skilful and +unperceived manoeuvre, leapt upon his back, gave him, hot and dry, +two stabs with his strong black beak: the dog fled, howling. Satisfied, +tranquil, and serious, the crow returned to his post, and one could +never have supposed that so grim-looking a fellow had just indulged in +such an escapade. + + [Illustration] + +It is said that in a state of freedom, strong in their spirit of +association, and in their numbers, they hazard the most audacious +games, even to watching the absence of the eagle, stealing into his +redoubtable nest, and robbing it of the eggs. And, what is more +difficult to believe, naturalists pretend to have seen great troops +of them, which, when the eagle is at home, and defending his family, +deafen him with their cries, defy him, entice him forth, and contrive, +though not without a battle, to carry off an eaglet. + +Such exertions and such danger for this miserable prey! If the thing be +true, we must suppose that the prudent republic, frequently troubled or +harassed by the tyrant of the country, decrees the extinction of his +race, and believes itself bound by a great act of devotion, cost what +it may, to execute the decree. + + [Illustration] + +Their sagacity is shown in a thousand ways, especially in the judicious +and well-weighed choice of their abode. Those which I observed at +Nantes, on one of the hills of the Erdre, passed over my head every +morning, and returned every evening. Evidently they had their town and +country houses. By day they perched on the cathedral towers to make +their observations, ferreting out (_éventant_) what good things the +city might have to offer. At close of day, they regained the woods, and +the well-sheltered rocks where they love to pass the night. These are +domiciliated people, and no mere birds of passage. Attached to their +family, especially to their mates, to whom they are scrupulously loyal, +their peculiar dwelling-place should be the nest. But the dread of the +great birds of night decides them to sleep together in twenties or +thirties--a sufficient number for a combat, if such should arise. Their +special object of hate and horror is the owl; when day breaks, they +take their revenge for his nocturnal misdeeds: they hoot him; they +give him chase; profiting by his embarrassment, they persecute him to +death. + +There is no form of association by which they do not know how to +profit. That which is sweetest--the family--does not induce them to +forget, as you may see, the confederacy for defence or the league +for attack. On the contrary, they associate themselves even with +their superior rivals, the vultures, and call, precede, or follow +them, to feed at their expense. They unite--and this is a stronger +illustration--with their enemy the eagle; at least, they surround him +to profit by his combats, by the fray in which he triumphs over some +great animal. These shrewd spectators wait at a little distance until +the eagle has feasted to his satisfaction, and gorged himself with +blood; when this takes place, he flies away, and the remainder falls to +the crows. + +Their evident superiority over so great a number of birds is due to +their longevity and to the experience which their excellent memory +enables them to acquire and profit by. Very different to the majority +of animals, whose duration of life is proportionable to the duration of +their infancy, they reach maturity at the end of a year, and live, it +is said, a century. + +The great variety of their food, which includes every kind of animal +or vegetable nutriment, every dead or living prey, gives them a wide +acquaintance with things and seasons, harvests and hunts. They interest +themselves in everything, and observe everything. The ancients, who +lived far more completely than ourselves in and with nature, found it +no small profit to follow, in a hundred obscure things where human +experience as yet affords no light, the directions of so prudent and +sage a bird. + +With due submission to the noble Raptores, the crow, which frequently +guides them, despite his "inky suit" and uncouth visage, despite the +coarseness of appetite imputed to him, is not the less the superior +genius of the great species of which he is, in size, already a +diminution. + +But the crow, after all, represents only utilitarian prudence, the +wisdom of self-interest. To arrive at the higher orders, the heroes of +the winged race, the sublime and impassioned artists, we must reduce +the bird in size, and lower the material to exalt the mental and moral +development. Nature, like so many mothers, has shown a weakness for her +smallest offspring. + + [Illustration] + + + + + [Illustration] + +Part Second. + + + + + [Illustration: THE LIGHT--THE NIGHT.] + + + + + [Illustration] + + + + +THE LIGHT. + +THE NIGHT. + + +"Light! more light!" Such were the last words of Goethe. This utterance +of expiring genius is the general cry of Nature, and re-echoes from +world to world. What was said by that man of power--one of the eldest +sons of God--is said by His humblest children, the least advanced in +the scale of animal life, the molluscs in the depths of ocean; they +will not dwell where the light never penetrates. The flower seeks the +light, turns towards it; without it, sickens. Our fellow-workers, the +animals, rejoice like us, or mourn like us, according as it comes or +goes. My grandson, but two months old, bursts into tears when the day +declines. + +"This summer, when walking in my garden, I heard and I saw on a branch +a bird singing to the setting sun; he inclined himself towards the +light, and was plainly enchanted by it. I was equally charmed to see +him; our pitiful caged birds had never inspired me with the idea of +that intelligent and powerful creature, so little, so full of passion. +I trembled at his song. He bent his head behind him, his swollen bosom; +never singer or poet enjoyed so simple an ecstasy. It was not love, +however (the season was past), it was clearly the glory of the day +which raptured him--the charm of the gentle sun! + +"Barbarous is the science, the hard pride, which disparages to such an +extent animated nature, and raises so impassable a barrier between man +and his inferior brothers! + +"With tears I said to him: 'Poor child of light, which thou reflectest +in thy song, truly thou hast good cause to hymn it! Night, replete +with snares and dangers for thee, too closely resembles death. Would +that thou mightst see the light of the morrow!' Then, passing in +spirit from _his_ destiny to that of all living beings which, since +the dim profundities of creation, have so slowly risen to the day, I +said, like Goethe and the little bird: 'Light, light, O Lord, more +light!'"--(MICHELET, _The People_, p. 62, edit. 1846.) + + [Illustration] + +The world of fishes is the world of silence. Men say, "Dumb as a fish." + +The world of insects is the world of night. They are all +light-shunners. Even those, which, like the bee, labour during the +day-time, prefer the shades of obscurity. + +The world of birds is the world of light--of song. + +All of them live in the sun, fill themselves with it, or are inspired +by it. Those of the South carry its reflected radiance on their wings; +those of our colder climates in their songs; many of them follow it +from land to land. + +"See," says St. John, "how at morning time they hail the rising +sun, and at evening faithfully congregate to watch it setting on our +Scottish shores. Towards evening, the heath-cock, that he may see it +longer, stands on tiptoe and balances himself on the branch of the +tallest willow." + + [Illustration] + +Light, love, and song, have for them but one meaning. If you would +have the captive nightingale sing when it is not the season of his +loves, cover up his cage, then suddenly let in the light upon him, +and he recovers his voice. The unfortunate chaffinch, blinded by +barbarous hands, sings with a despairing and sickly animation, creating +for himself the light of harmony with his voice, becoming a sun unto +himself in his internal fire. + +I would willingly believe that this is the chief inspiration of the +bird's song in our gloomy climates, where the sun appears only in vivid +flashes. In comparison with those brilliant zones where he never quits +the horizon, our countries, veiled in mist and cloud, but glowing at +intervals, have exactly the effect of the cage, first covered, and then +exposed, of the imprisoned nightingale. They provoke the strain, and, +like light, awaken bursts of harmony. + +Even the bird's flight is influenced by it. Flight depends on the +eye quite as much as on the wing. Among species gifted with a keen +and delicate vision, like the falcon, which from the loftiest heights +of heaven can espy the worm in a thicket--like the swallow, which +from a distance of one thousand feet can perceive a gnat--flight is +sure, daring, and charming to look at in its infallible certainty. Far +otherwise is it with the myopes, the short-sighted, as you may see +by their gait; they fly with caution, grope about, and are afraid of +falling. + +The eye and the wing--sight and flight--that exalted degree of +puissance which enables you incessantly to embrace in a glance, and +to overleap, immense landscapes, vast countries, kingdoms--which +permits you to see in complete detail, and not to contract, as in a +geographical chart, so grand a variety of objects--to possess and to +discern, almost as if you were the equal of God;--oh, what a source of +boundless enjoyment! what a strange and mysterious happiness, scarcely +conceivable by man! + +Observe, too, these perceptions are so strong and so vivid that they +grave themselves on the memory, and to such a degree that even an +inferior animal like a pigeon retraces and recognizes every little +_accident_ in a road which he has only traversed once. How, then, will +it be with the sage stork, the shrewd crow, the intelligent swallow? + +Let us confess this superiority. Let us regard without envy those +blisses of vision which may, perhaps, one day be ours in a happier +existence. This felicity of seeing so much--of seeing so far--of seeing +so clearly--of piercing the infinite with the eye and the wing, almost +at the same moment,--to what does it belong? To that life which is our +distant ideal. _A life in the fulness of light, and without shadow!_ + +Already the bird's existence is, as it were, a foretaste of it. It +would here prove to him a divine source of knowledge, if, in its +sublime freedom, it were not burdened by the two fatalities which +chain our globe to a condition of barbarism, and render futile all our +aspirations. + + [Illustration] + +First, the fatal need of the stomach, which shackles all of us, but +which especially persecutes that living flame, that devouring fire, the +bird, which is forced incessantly to renew itself, to seek, to wander, +to forget, condemned, without hope of relief, to the barren mobility of +its too changeful impressions. + +The other fatal necessity is that of night, of slumber, hours of shadow +and ambush, when his wing is broken or captured, or, while defenceless, +he loses the power of flight, strength, and light. + +When we speak of light, we mean safety for all creatures. + +It is the guarantee of life for man and the animal; it is, as it were, +the serene, calm, and reassuring smile, the privilege of Nature. It +puts an end to the sombre terrors which pursue us in the shadows, to +the not unfounded fears, and to the torment also of cruel dreams--to +the troublous thoughts which agitate and overthrow the soul. + +In the security of civil association which has existed for so long a +period, man can scarcely comprehend the agonies of savage life during +these hours that Nature leaves it defenceless, when her terrible +impartiality opens the way to death no less legitimate than life. In +vain you reproach her. She tells the bird that the owl also has a right +to live. She replies to man: "I must feed my lions." + +Read in books of travels the panic of unfortunate castaways lost in the +solitudes of Africa, of the miserable fugitive slave who only escapes +the barbarity of man to fall into the hands of a barbarous nature. What +tortures, as soon as at sunset the lion's ill-omened scouts, the wolves +and jackals, begin to prowl, accompanying him at a distance, preceding +him to scent his prey, or following him like ghouls! They whine in your +ears: "To-morrow we shall seek thy bones!" But, O horror! see here, at +but two paces distant! He sees you, watches you, sends a deep roar +from the cavernous recesses of his throat of brass, sums up his living +prey, exacts and lays claim to it! The horse cannot be held still; +he trembles, a cold sweat pours over him, he plunges to and fro. His +rider, crouching between the watch-fires, if he succeeds in kindling +any, with difficulty preserves sufficient strength to feed the rampart +of light which is his only safeguard. + +Night is equally terrible for the birds, even in our climates, where it +would seem less dangerous. What monsters it conceals, what frightful +chances for the bird lurk in its obscurity! Its nocturnal foes have +this characteristic in common--their approach is noiseless. The +screech-owl flies with a silent wing, as if wrapped in tow (_comme +étoupée de ouate_). The weasel insinuates its long body into the nest +without disturbing a leaf. The eager polecat, athirst for the warm +life-blood, is so rapid, that in a moment it bleeds both parents and +progeny, and slaughters a whole family. + +It seems that the bird, when it has little ones, enjoys a second sight +for these dangers. It has to protect a family far more feeble and more +helpless than that of the quadruped, whose young can walk as soon +as born. But how protect them? It can do nothing but remain at its +post and die; it cannot fly away, for its love has broken its wings. +All night the narrow entry of the nest is guarded by the father, who +sinks with fatigue, and opposes danger with feeble beak and shaking +head. What will this avail if the enormous jaw of the serpent suddenly +appears, or the horrible eye of the bird of death, immeasurably +enlarged by fear? + +Anxious for its young, it has little care for itself. In its season of +solitude Nature spares it the tortures of prevision. Sad and dejected +rather than alarmed, it is silent, it sinks down and hides its little +head under its wings, and even its neck disappears among the plumes. +This position of complete self-abandonment, of confidence, which it had +held in the egg--in the happy maternal prison, where its security was +so perfect--it resumes every evening in the midst of perils and without +protection. + + [Illustration] + +Heavy for all creatures is the gloom of evening, and even for the +protected. The Dutch painters have seized and expressed this truth very +forcibly in reference to the beasts grazing at liberty in the meadows. +The horse of his own accord draws near his companion, and rests his +head upon him. The cow, followed by her calf, returns to the fence, and +would fain find her way to the byre. For these animals have a stable, +a lodging, a shelter against nocturnal snares. The bird has but a leaf +for its roof! + +How great, then, its happiness in the morning, when terrors vanish, +when the shadows fade away, when the smallest coppice brightens and +grows clear! What chattering on the edge of every nest, what lively +conversations! It is, as it were, a mutual felicitation at seeing one +another again, at being still alive! Then the songs commence. From the +furrow the lark mounts aloft, with a loud hymn, and bears to heaven's +gate the joy of earth. + +As with the bird, so with man. Every line in the ancient Vedas of India +is a hymn to the light, the guardian of life--to the sun which every +day, by unveiling the world, creates it anew and preserves it. We +revive, we breathe again, we traverse our dwelling-places, we regain +our families, we count over our herds. Nothing has perished, and life +is complete. No tiger has surprised us. No horde of beasts of prey have +invaded us. The black serpent has not profited by our slumbers. Blessed +be thou, O sun, who givest us yet another day! + +All animals, says the Hindu, and especially the wisest, the elephant, +_the Brahmin of creation_, salute the sun, and praise it gratefully at +dawn; they sing to it from their own hearts a hymn of thankfulness. + +But a single creature utters it, pronounces it for all of us, sings +it. Who? One of the weak--which fears most keenly the night, and hails +with eagerest joy the morning--which lives in and by the light--whose +tender, infinitely sensitive, extended, penetrating vision, discerns +all its accidents--and which is most intimately associated with the +decline, the eclipses, and the resurrection of light. + +The bird for all nature chants the morning hymn and the benediction of +the day. He is her priest and her augur, her divine and innocent voice. + + [Illustration] + + + + + [Illustration: STORM AND WINTER--MIGRATIONS.] + + + + + [Illustration] + + + + +STORM AND WINTER. + +MIGRATIONS. + + +One of Nature's confidants, a sacred soul, as simple as profound, the +poet Virgil, saw in the bird, as the ancient Italian wisdom had seen in +it, an augur and a prophet of the changes of the skies:-- + + "Nul, sans être averti, n'éprouva les orages-- + La grue, avec effroi, s'élançant des vallées, + Fuit ces noires vapeurs de la terre exhalées-- + L'hirondelle en volant effleure le rivage; + Tremblante pour ses oeufs, la fourmi déménage. + Des lugubres corbeaux les noires légions + Fendent l'air, qui frémit sous leurs longs bataillons-- + Vois les oiseaux de mer, et ceux que les prairies + Nourrissent près des eaux sur des rives fleuries. + De leur séjour humide on les voit s'approcher, + Offrir leur tête aux flots qui battent le rocher, + Promener sur les eaux leur troupe vagabonde, + Se plonger dans leur sein, reparaître sur l'onde, + S'y replonger encore, et, par cent jeux divers, + Annoncer les torrents suspendus dans les airs. + Seule, errante à pas lents sur l'aride rivage, + La corneille enrouée appelle aussi l'orage. + Le soir, la jeune fille, en tournant son fuseau, + Tire encore de sa lampe un présage nouveau, + Lorsque la mèche en feu, dont la clarté s'émousse, + Se couvre en petillant de noirs flocons de mousse. + + * * * * * + + Mais la sécurité reparaît à son tour-- + L'alcyon ne vient plus sur l'humide rivage, + Aux tiédeurs du soleil étaler son plumage-- + L'air s'éclaircit enfin; du sommet des montagnes, + Le brouillard affaissé descend dans les campagnes, + Et le triste hibou, le soir, au haut des toits, + En longs gémissements ne traîne plus sa voix. + Les corbeaux même, instruits de la fin de l'orage, + Folâtrent à l'envi parmi l'épais feuillage, + Et, d'un gosier moins rauque, annonçant les beaux jours, + Vont revoir dans leurs nids le fruit de leurs amours." + + _"The Georgics," translated by Delille._[22] + +A being eminently electrical, the bird is more _en rapport_ than any +other with numerous meteorological phenomena of heat and magnetism, +whose secrets neither our senses nor our appreciation can arrive at. He +perceives them in their birth, in their early beginnings, even before +they manifest themselves. He possesses, as it were, a kind of physical +prescience. What more natural than that man, whose perception is much +slower, and who does not recognize them until after the event, should +interrogate this instructive precursor which announces them? This is +the principle of auguries. And there is no truer wisdom than this +pretended "folly of antiquity." + +Meteorology, especially, may derive from hence a great advantage. It +will possess the surest means. And already it has found a guide in the +foresight of the birds. Would to Heaven that Napoleon, in September +1811, had taken note of the premature migration of the birds of the +North! From the storks and the cranes he might have secured the most +trustworthy information. In their precocious departure, he might have +divined the imminency of a severe and terrible winter. They hastened +towards the South, and he--he remained at Moscow! + +In the midst of the ocean, the weary bird which reposes for a night +on the vessel's mast, beguiled afar from his route by this moving +asylum, recovers it, nevertheless, without difficulty. So complete is +his sympathy with the globe, so exactly does he know the true realm of +light, that, on the following morning, he commits himself to the breeze +without hesitation; the briefest consultation with himself suffices. +He chooses, on the immense abyss, uniform and without other path than +the vessel's track, the exact course which will lead him whither he +wishes to go. There, not as upon land, exists no local observation, +no landmark, no guide; the currents of the atmosphere alone, in +sympathy with those of water--perhaps, also, some invisible magnetic +currents--pilot this hardy voyager. + +How strange a science! Not only does the swallow in Europe know +that the insect which fails him there awaits him elsewhere, and +goes in quest of it, travelling upon the meridian; but in the same +latitude, and under the same climates, the loriot of the United States +understands that the cherry is ripe in France, and departs without +hesitation to gather his harvest of our fruits. + + [Illustration] + +It would be wrong to believe that these migrations occur in their +season, without any definite choice of days, and at indeterminate +epochs. We ourselves have been able to observe, on the contrary, the +exact and lucid decision which regulates them; not an hour too soon or +too late. + +When living at Nantes, in October 1851, the season being still +exceptionally fine, the insects numerous, and the feeding-ground of +the swallows plentifully provided, it was our happy chance to catch +sight of the sage republic, convoked in one immense and noisy assembly, +deliberating on the roof of the church of St. Felix, which dominates +over the Erdre, and looks across the Loire. Why was the meeting held on +this particular day, at this hour more than at any other? We did not +know; soon afterwards we were able to understand it. + +Bright was the morning sky, but the wind blew from La Vendée. My +pines bewailed their fate, and from my afflicted cedar issued a low +deep voice of mourning. The ground was strewn with fruit, which we +all set to work to gather. Gradually the weather grew cloudy, the sky +assumed a dull leaden gray, the wind sank, all was death-like. It was +then, at about four o'clock, that simultaneously arrived, from all +points, from the wood, from the Erdre, from the city, from the Loire, +from the Sèvre, infinite legions, darkening the day, which settled +on the church roof, with a myriad voices, a myriad cries, debates, +discussions. Though ignorant of their language, it was not difficult +for us to perceive that they differed among themselves. It may be +that the youngest, beguiled by the warm breath of autumn, would fain +have lingered longer. But the wiser and more experienced travellers +insisted upon departure. They prevailed; the black masses, moving all +at once like a huge cloud, winged their flight towards the south-east, +probably towards Italy. They had scarcely accomplished three hundred +leagues (four or five hours' flight) before all the cataracts of heaven +were let loose to deluge the earth; for a moment we thought it was a +Flood. Sheltered in our house, which shook with the furious blast, we +admired the wisdom of the winged soothsayers, which had so prudently +anticipated the annual epoch of migration. + +Clearly it was not hunger that had driven them. With a beautiful and +still abundant nature around them, they had perceived and seized upon +the precise hour, without antedating it. The morrow would have been too +late. The insects, beaten down by the tempest of rain, would have been +undiscoverable; all the life on which they subsisted would have taken +refuge in the earth. + +Moreover, it is not famine alone, or the forewarning of famine, that +decides the movements of the migrating species. If those birds which +live on insects are constrained to depart, those which feed on wild +berries might certainly remain. What impels _them_? Is it the cold? +Most of them could readily endure it. To these special reasons we must +add another, of a loftier and more general character--it is the need of +light. + +Even as the plant unalterably follows the day and the sun, even as the +mollusc (to use a previous illustration) rises towards and prefers to +live in the brighter regions--even so the bird, with its sensitive +eye, grows melancholy in the shortened days and gathering mists of +autumn. That decline of light, which is sometimes dear to us for moral +causes, is for the bird a grief, a death. Light! more light! Let us +rather die than see the day no more! This is the true purport of its +last autumnal strain, its last cry on its departure in October. I +comprehended it in their farewells. + + [Illustration] + +Their resolution is truly bold and courageous, when one thinks on the +tremendous journey they must achieve, twice every year, over mountains, +and seas, and deserts, under such diverse climates, by variable winds, +through many perils, and such tragical adventures. For the light and +hardy _voiliers_, for the church-martin, for the keen swallow which +defies the falcon, the enterprise perhaps is trivial. But other tribes +have neither their strength nor their wings; most of them are at this +time heavy with abundant food; they have passed through the glowing +time of love and maternity; the female has finished that grand work of +nature--has given birth to, and brought up her callow brood; her mate, +how he has spent his vigour in song! These two, then, have consummated +life; a virtue has gone out from them; an age already separates them +from the fresh energy of their spring. + +Many would remain, but a goad impels them forward. The slowest are the +most ardent. The French quail will traverse the Mediterranean, will +cross the range of Atlas; sweeping over the Sahara, it will plunge +into the kingdoms of the negro; these, too, it will leave behind; and, +finally, if it pauses at the Cape, it is because there the infinite +Austral ocean commences, which promises it no nearer shelter than the +icy wastes of the Pole, and the very winter which exiled it from Egypt. + +What gives them confidence for such enterprises? Some may trust to +their arms, the weakest to their numbers, and abandon themselves to +fate. The stock-dove says: "Out of ten or a hundred thousand the +assassin cannot slay more than ten, and doubtlessly I shall not be one +of the victims." They seize their opportunity; the flying cloud passes +at night; if the moon rise, against her silver radiance the black +wings stand out clear and distinct; they escape, confused, in her pale +lustre. The valiant lark, the national bird of our ancient Gaul and of +the invincible hope, also trusts to his numbers; he sets out in the +day-time, or rather, he wanders from province to province; decimated, +hunted, he does not the less give utterance to his song. + +But the lonely bird, which has neither the support of numbers nor of +strength, what will become of him? What wilt thou do, poor solitary +nightingale, which, like others of thy race, must confront this great +adventure, but without assistance, without comrades? Thou, what art +thou, friend? A voice! The very power which is in thee will be thy +betrayal. In thy sombre attire, thou might well pass unseen by blending +with the tints of the discoloured woods of autumn. But see now! The +leaf is still purple; it wears not the dull dead brown of the later +months. + +Ah, why dost thou not remain? why not imitate the timorousness of those +birds which in such myriads fly no further than Provence? There, +sheltered behind a rock, thou shalt find, I assure thee, an Asiatic +or African winter. The gorge of Ollioules is worth all the valleys of +Syria. + +"No; I must depart. Others may tarry; for _they_ have only to gain the +East. But me, my cradle summons _me_: I must see again that glowing +heaven, those luminous and sumptuous ruins where my ancestors lived and +sang; I must plant my foot once more on my earliest love, the rose of +Asia; I must bathe myself in the sunshine. _There_ is the mystery of +life, there quickens the flame in which my song shall be renewed; my +voice, my muse is the light." + + [Illustration] + +Thus, then, he takes wing; but I think his heart must throb as he draws +near the Alps, when their snowy peaks announce his approach to the +terror-haunted gate on whose rocks are posted the cruel children of +day and night, the vulture, the eagle--all the hooked and talon-armed +robbers, athirst for the warm blood of life--the accursed species which +inspire the senseless poetry of man--some, _noble_ murderers, which +bleed quickly and drain the flowing tide; others, _ignoble_ murderers, +which choke and destroy;--in a word, all the hideous forms of murder +and death. + +I imagine to myself, then, that the poor little musician whose voice +is silenced--not his _ingegno_, nor his delicate thought--having no +friend to consult, will halt to consider well before entering upon the +long ambush of the pass of Savoy. He pauses at the threshold, on a +friendly roof, well known to myself, or in the hallowed groves of the +Charmettes,[23] deliberates and says: "If I pass during the day, they +will all be there; they know the season; the eagle will pounce upon me; +I die. If I pass by night, the great horn-owl (_duc_), the common owl +(_hibou_), the entire host of horrible phantoms, with eyes enlarged in +the darkness, will seize me, and carry me off to their young. Alas! +what shall I do? I must endeavour to avoid both night and day. At the +gloomy hour of dawn, when the cold, raw air chills in his eyrie the +great fierce beast, which knows not how to build a nest, I may fly +unperceived. And even if he see me, I shall be leagues away before he +can put into motion the cumbrous machinery of his frozen wings." + +The calculation is judicious, but nevertheless a score of accidents may +disturb it. Starting at midnight, he may encounter in the face, during +his long flight across Savoy, the east wind, which engulfs and delays +him, neutralizes his exertions, and fetters his pinions. Heavens! it is +morning now. Those sombre giants, already clothed in October in their +snowy mantles, reveal upon their vast expanse of glittering white a +black spot, which moves with terrible rapidity. How gloomy are they +already, these mountains, and of what evil augury, draped in the long +folds of their winter shrouds! Motionless as are their peaks, they +create beneath them and around them an everlasting agitation of violent +and antagonistic currents, which struggle with one another so furiously +that at times they compel the bird to tarry. "If I fly in the lower +air, the torrents which hurl through the shadows with their clanging +floods, will snare me in their whirling vapours. And if I mount to the +cold and lofty realms, which kindle with a light of their own, I give +myself up to death; the frost will seize and slacken my wings." + +An effort has saved him. With head bent low, he plunges, he falls into +Italy. At Susa or towards Turin he builds a nest, and strengthens his +pinions. He recovers himself in the depth of the gigantic Lombard +_corbeille_, that great nursery of fruits and flowers where Virgil +listened to his song. The land has in nowise changed; now, as then, +the Italian, an exile from his home, the sad cultivator of another's +fields,[24] the _durus arator_, pursues the nightingale. The useful +insect-devourer is proscribed as an eater of grain. Let him cross +then, if he can, the Adriatic, from isle to isle, despite the winged +corsairs, which keep watch on the very rocks; he will arrive perhaps in +the land ever consecrated to birds--in genial, hospitable, bountiful +Egypt--where all are spared, nourished, blessed, and kindly welcomed. + +Still happier land, if in its blind hospitality it did not also shelter +the murderer. The nightingale and dove are gladly entertained, it +is true, but no less so the eagle. On the terraces of sultans, on +the balconies of minarets, ah, poor traveller, I see those flashing +dreadful eyes which dart their gaze this way. And I see that they have +already marked thee! + +Do not remain here long. Thy season will not last. The destructive +wind of the desert will dry up, and destroy, and sweep away thy meagre +nourishment. Not a gnat will be left to sustain thy wing and thy voice. +Bethink thyself of the nest which thou hast left in our woods, remember +thy European loves. The sky was gloomy, but there thou madest for +thyself a sky of thine own. Love was around thee; every soul thrilled +at thy voice; the purest throbbed for thee. There is the real sun, +there the fairest Orient. True light is where one loves. + + [Illustration] + + + + + [Illustration: MIGRATIONS--THE SWALLOW.] + + + + + [Illustration] + + + + +MIGRATIONS: CONTINUED. + +THE SWALLOW. + + +Undoubtedly the swallow has seized upon our dwellings without ceremony; +she lodges under our windows, under our eaves, in our chimneys. She +does not hold us in the slightest fear. + +It might have been said that she trusted to her unrivalled wing, had +she not placed her nest and her children within our reach. The true +reason why she has become the mistress of our house is, that she has +taken possession not only of our house, but of our heart. + +In the rural mansion where my father-in-law educated his children, +he would hold his class during summer in a greenhouse in which the +swallows rested without disturbing themselves about the movements of +the family, quite unconstrained in their behaviour, wholly occupied +with their brood, passing out at the windows and returning through the +roof, chattering very loudly with one another, and still more loudly +when the master would make a pretence of saying, as St. Francis said, +"Sister swallows, can you not be silent?" + +Theirs is the hearth. Where the mother has built her nest, the daughter +and the grand-daughter build. They return there every year; their +generations succeed to it more regularly than do our own. A family +dies out or is dispersed, the mansion passes into other hands; but the +swallow constantly returns to it, and maintains its right of occupation. + +It is thus that our traveller has come to be accepted as a symbol of +the permanency of home. She clings to it with such fidelity, that +though the house may be repaired, or partially demolished, or long +disturbed by masons, it is still retaken possession of, re-occupied by +these faithful birds of persevering memory. + +She is the _bird of return_. And if I bestow this title upon her, +it is not alone on account of her annual return, but on account of +her general conduct, and the direction of her flight, so varied, yet +nevertheless circular, and always returning upon itself. + +She incessantly wheels and _veers_, indefatigably hovers about the same +area and the same locality, describing an infinity of graceful curves, +which, however varied, are never far distant from one another. Is it to +pursue her prey, the gnat which dances and floats in the air? Is it to +exercise her power, her unwearying wing, without going too far from her +nest? It matters not; this revolving flight, this incessantly returning +movement, has always attracted our eyes and heart, throwing us into a +reverie, into a world of thought. + +We see her flight clearly, but never, or scarcely ever, her little +black face. Who, then, art thou, thou who always concealest thyself, +who never showest me aught but thy trenchant wings--scythes rapid as +that of Time? But Time goes forward without pause; thou, thou always +returnest. Thou drawest close to my side; it seems as if thou wouldst +graze me, wouldst touch me?--So nearly dost thou caress me, that I feel +in my face the wind, almost the whirr of thy wings. Is it a bird? Is it +a spirit? Ah, if thou art a soul, tell me so frankly, and reveal to me +the barrier which separates the living from the dead. + + [Illustration] + +But let us not anticipate, nor let loose the waters of bitterness. +Rather let us trace this bird in the people's thoughts, in the good old +popular wisdom, close akin, undoubtedly, to the wisdom of Nature. + +The people have seen in her only the natural dial, the division of +the seasons, of the two great _hours of the year_. At Easter and at +Michaelmas, at the epochs of family gatherings, of fairs and markets, +of leases and rent-paying, the black and white swallow appears, and +tells us the time. She comes to separate and define the past and the +coming seasons. At these epochs families and friends meet together, but +not always to find the circle complete; in the last six months this +friend has disappeared, and that. The swallow returns, but not for all; +many have gone a very long journey, longer than _the tour of France_. +To Germany? No; further, further still. + +Our _companions_, industrious travellers, followed the swallow's +life, except that on their return they frequently could no longer +find their nest. Of this the pendant bird warns them in an old German +saying, wherein the narrow popular wisdom would fain retain them +round the roof-tree of home. On this proverb, the great poet Rückert, +metamorphosing himself into a swallow, reproducing her rhythmical and +circular flight, her constant turns and returns, has founded a lyric at +which many will laugh, but more than one will weep:-- + + [Illustration] + + "De la jeunesse, de la jeunesse, + Un chant me revient toujours-- + Oh! que c'est loin! Oh! que c'est loin + Tout ce qui fut autrefois; + + "Ce que chantait, ce que chantait + Celle qui ramène le printemps, + Rasant le village de l'aile, rasant le village de l'aile. + Est-ce bien ce qu'elle chante encore? + + "'Quand je partis, quand je partis, + Etaient pleins l'armoire et le coffre. + Quand je revins, quand je revins, + Je ne trouvai plus que le vide.' + + "O mon foyer de famille, + Laisse-moi seulement une fois + M'asseoir à la place sacrée + Et m'envoler dans les songes! + + "Elle revient bien l'hirondelle, + Et l'armoire vidée se remplit. + Mais le vide du coeur reste, mais reste le vide du coeur, + Et rien ne le remplira. + + "Elle rase pourtant le village, + Elle chante comme autrefois-- + 'Quand je partis, quand je partis, + Coffre, armoire, tout était plein. + Quand je revins, quand je revins + Je ne trouvai plus que le vide.'" + +_Imitated_:-- + + From childhood gay, from childhood gay, + E'er breathes to me a strain, + How far the day, how far the day + Which ne'er may come again! + + And is her song, and is her song-- + She who brings back the spring, + The hamlet touching with her wing, the hamlet touching with her wing-- + Is it true what she doth sing? + + "When I set forth, when I set forth, + Both barn and chest were brimming o'er; + When I came back, when I came back, + I found a piteous lack of store." + + Oh, my own home, so dearly loved, + Kind Heaven grant that I may kneel + Again upon thy sacred hearth, + While dreams the happy past reveal! + + The swallow surely will return, + Coffer and barn will brim once more; + But blank remains the heart, empty the heart remains, + And none may the lost restore! + + The swallow skims through the hamlet, + She sings as she sang of yore:-- + "When I set out, when I set out, + Both barn and chest were brimming o'er; + When I came back, when I came back, + I found a piteous lack of store." + + [Illustration] + +The swallow, caught in the morning, and closely examined, is seen to +be a strange and ugly bird, we confess; but this fact perfectly well +agrees with what is, _par excellence_, the _bird_--the being among +all beings born for flight. To this object Nature has sacrificed +everything; she has laughed at _form_, thinking only of _movement_; and +has succeeded so well that this bird, ugly in repose, is, when flying, +the most beautiful of all. + +Scythe-like wings; projecting eyes; no neck (in order to treble her +strength); feet, scarcely any, or none: all is wing. These are her +great general features. Add a very large beak, always open, which, in +flight, snaps at its prey without stopping, closes, and again re-opens. +Thus she feeds while flying; she drinks, she bathes while flying; while +flying, she feeds her young. + +If she does not equal in accuracy of line the thunderous swoop of +the falcon, by way of compensation she is freer; she wheels, makes a +hundred circles, a labyrinth of undefined figures, a maze of varied +curves, which she crosses and re-crosses, _ad infinitum_. Her enemy +is dazzled, lost, confused, and knows not what to do. She wearies and +exhausts him; he gives up the chase, but leaves her unfatigued. She +is the true queen of the air; the incomparable agility of her motions +makes all space her own. Who, like her, can change in the very moment +of springing, and turn abruptly? No one. The infinitely varied and +capricious pursuit of a prey which is ever fluttering--of the gnat, the +fly, the beetle, the thousand insects that waver to and fro and never +keep in the same direction--is, undoubtedly, the best training school +for flight, and renders the swallow superior to all other birds. + +Nature, to attain this end, to achieve this unique wing, has adopted +an extreme resolution, that of suppressing the foot. In the large +church-haunting swallow, which we call the martin, the foot is reduced +to a mere nothing. The wing gains in proportion; the martin, it is +said, accomplishes eighty leagues in an hour. This astounding swiftness +equals even that of the frigate-bird. The foot, remarkably short in +the latter, is but a stump in the martin; if he rests, it is on his +belly; so that he never perches. With him it is the reverse of all +other beings; movement alone affords him repose. When he darts from +the church-towers, and commits himself to the air, the air cradles +him amorously, supports, and refreshes him. If he would cling to any +object, he has only his own small and feeble claws. But when he rests, +he is infirm, and, as it were, paralyzed; he feels every roughness; the +hard fatality of gravitation has resumed possession of him; the chief +among birds seems sunk to a reptile. + + [Illustration] + +To take the range of a place is a great difficulty for him: so, if he +fixes his nest aloft, at his departure from it he is constrained to let +himself fall into his natural element. Afloat in the air he is free, he +is sovereign; but until then he is a slave, dependent on everything, at +the disposal of any one who lays hand upon him. + +The true name of the genus, which is a full explanation in itself, is +the Greek _A-pode_, "Without feet." The great race of swallows, with +its sixty species which fill the earth, charms and delights us with its +gracefulness, its flight, and its soft chirping, owes all its agreeable +qualities to the deformity of a very little foot; it is at once the +foremost among the winged tribes by the gift of the perfect art of +flight, and the most sedentary and attached to its nest. + +Among this peculiar genus, the foot not supplying the place of the +wing, the training of the young being confined to the wing alone and +a protracted apprenticeship in flying, the brood keep the nest for +a long time, demanding the cares and developing the foresight and +tenderness of the mother. The most mobile of birds is found fettered by +her affections. Her nest is not a transient nuptial bed, but a home, a +dwelling-place, the interesting theatre of a difficult education and +of mutual sacrifices. It has possessed a loving mother, a faithful +mate,--what do I say?--rather, young sisters, which eagerly hasten +to assist the mother, are themselves little mothers, and the nurses +of a still younger brood. It has developed maternal tenderness, the +anxieties and mutual teaching of the young to the younger. + +The finest thing is, that this sentiment of kinship expands. In danger, +every swallow is a sister; at the cry of one, all rush to her aid; +if one be captured, all lament her, and torture their bosoms in the +attempt to release her. + +That these charming birds extend their sympathy to birds foreign to +their own species one easily conceives. They have less cause than any +others to dread the beasts of prey, from their lightness of wing, and +they are the first to warn the poultry-coops of their appearance. Hen +and pigeon cower and seek an asylum as soon as they hear the swallow's +warning voice. + +No; man does not err in considering the swallow the best of the winged +world. + +And why? She is the happiest, because the freest. + +Free by her admirable flight. + +Free by her facility of nourishment. + +Free by her choice of climate. + +Also, whatever attention I have paid to her language (she speaks +amicably to her sisters, rather than sings), I have never heard her do +aught but bless life and praise God. + +_Libertà! molto e desiato bene!_ I revolved these words in my heart +on the great piazza of Turin, where we never wearied of watching +the flight of innumerous swallows, hearing a thousand little joyous +cries. On their descent from the Alps they found there convenient +habitations all prepared for their reception, in the apertures left +by the scaffold-beams in the very walls of the palaces. At times, +and frequently in the evening, they chattered very loudly and cried +shrilly, to prevent us from understanding them. Often they darted down +headlong, just skimming the ground, but rising again so quickly that +one might have thought them loosened from a spring or shot from a +bow. Unlike man, who is incessantly called back to earth, they seem +to gravitate above. Never have I seen the image of a more sovereign +liberty. Their tricks, their sports, were infinite. + +We travellers regarded with pleased eyes these other travellers, +which bore their pilgrimage so gaily and so lightly. The horizon, +nevertheless, was heavy, and ringed by the Alps, which at that hour +seemed close at hand. The black pine-woods were already darkened +and overshadowed by the evening; the glaciers glittered again with +a ghastly whiteness. The sorrowful barrier of these grand mountains +separated us from France, towards which we were soon about to travel +slowly. + + [Illustration] + + + + + [Illustration: HARMONIES OF THE TEMPERATE ZONE.] + + + + + [Illustration] + + + + +HARMONIES OF THE TEMPERATE ZONE. + + +Why do the swallow and so many other birds place their habitation so +near to that of man? Why do they make themselves our friends, mingling +with our labours, and lightening them by their songs? Why is that +happy spectacle of alliance and harmony, which is the end of nature, +presented only in the climates of our temperate zone? + +For this reason, that here the two parties, man and the bird, are free +from the burdensome fatalities which in the south separate them, and +place them in antagonism to one another. + +That which enervates man, on the contrary, excites the bird, endows him +with ardent activity, inquietude, and the vehemence which finds vents +in harsh cries. Under the Tropics both are in complete divergence, +slaves of a despotic nature, which weighs upon them differently. + +To pass from those climates to ours is to become free. + +_Here_ we dominate over the nature which _there_ subjugated us. I quit +willingly, and without one wistful glance, the overwhelming paradise +where, a feeble child, I have languished in the arms of the great nurse +who, with a too potent draught, has intoxicated while thinking to +suckle me. + +This milder nature was made for me, is my legitimate spouse--I +recognize her. And, above all, she resembles me; like me, she is grave, +she is laborious, she has the instinct of work and patience. + +Her renewed seasons share among themselves her great annual day, +as the workman's day alternates between toil and repose. She gives +no fruit gratuitously; she gives what is worth all the fruits of +earth--industry, activity. + +With what rapture I find there to-day my image, the trace of my will, +the creations of my exertions and my intelligence! Deeply laboured by +me, by me metamorphosed, she relates to me my works, reproduces to me +myself. I see her as she was before she underwent this human creative +work, before she was made man. + +Monotonous at the first glance, and melancholy, she exhibited her +forests and meadows; but both strangely different from those which are +seen elsewhere. + +The meadow, the rich green carpet of England and Ireland, with its +delicate soft sward constantly springing up afresh--not the rough +fleece of the Asiatic steppes, not the spiny and hostile vegetation of +Africa, not the bristling savagery of American savannahs, where the +smallest plant is woody and harshly arborescent--the European meadow, +through its annual and ephemeral vegetation, its lowly little flowers, +with mild and gentle odours, wears a youthful aspect; nay, more, an +aspect of innocence, which harmonizes with our thoughts and refreshes +our hearts. + +On this first layer of humble yielding herbage, which has no +pretensions to mount higher, stands out in bold contrast the strong +individuality of the robust trees, so different from the confused +vegetation of meridional forests. + +Who can single out, beneath such a mass of lianas, orchids, and +parasitical plants, the trees, themselves herbaceous, which are there, +so to speak, engulphed? In our ancient forests of Gaul and Germany +stand, strong and serious, slowly and solidly built, the elm or the +oak--that forest hero, with kindly arms and heart of steel, which has +conquered eight or ten centuries, and which, when felled by man and +associated with his labours, endows them with the eternity of the works +of nature. + + [Illustration] + +As the tree, so the man. May it be given us to resemble it--to +resemble that mighty but pacific oak, whose powerful absorption has +concentrated every element, and made of it the grave, useful, enduring +individual--the solid personality--of which all men confidently demand +a support, a shelter; which stretches forth its helpful arms to the +divers animal tribes, and shelters them with its foliage! With a +thousand voices they gratefully enchant, by day and night, the still +majesty of this aged witness of the years. The birds thank it from +their hearts, and delight its paternal shades with song, love, and +youth. + +Indestructible vigour of the climates of the West? Why doth this oak +live through a thousand years? Because it is ever young. + +It is the oak which chronicles the commencement of spring. For us the +emotion of the new life does not begin when all nature clothes itself +in the uniform verdure of the meaner vegetation. It commences only when +we see the oak, from the woody foliage of the past, which it still +retains, gathering its fresh leaves; when the elm, permitting itself to +be outstripped by inferior trees, tints with a light green the severe +delicacy of its airy branches, clearly defined against the sky. + + [Illustration] + +Then, then, Nature speaks to all--her potent voice troubles even the +soul of sages. And why not? Is she not holy? And this surprising +awakening, which has stirred life everywhere--from the hard dumb heart +of the oaks, even to their lofty crest, where the bird pours out its +gladness--is it not, as it were, a return of God? + +I have lived in climates where the olive and the orange preserve an +eternal bloom. Without ignoring the beauty of these favoured trees, +and their special distinction, I could never accustom myself to the +monotonous permanency of their unchangeable garb, whose verdure +responded to the heaven's unchangeable sapphire. I was ever in a state +of expectancy, waiting for a renewal which never came. The days passed +by, but were always identical. Not a leaf the less on the ground, not a +cloudlet in the sky. Mercy, I exclaimed, O everlasting Nature! To the +changeful heart which thou hast given me, grant a little change. Rain, +mire, storm, I accept them all; so that from sky or earth the idea of +movement may return to me--the idea of renovation; that every year the +spectacle of a new creation may refresh my heart, may restore to me +the hope that my soul shall enjoy a similar resurrection, and, by the +alternations of sleep, of death, or of winter, create for itself a new +spring! + + [Illustration] + +Man, bird, all nature, utter the same desire. We exist through change. + +To these forcible alternations of heat, cold, fog, and sun, melancholy +and joyaunce, we owe the tempered, the powerful personality of our +West. Rain wearies us to-day; fine weather will come with the morrow. +The splendours of the East, the marvels of the Tropics, taken together, +are not worth the first violet of Easter, the first song of April, the +blossom of the hawthorn, the glee of the young girl who resumes her +robes of white. + +In the morning a potent voice, of singular freshness and clearness, of +keen metallic _timbre_, the voice of the mavis, rises aloft, and there +is no heart so sick or so sour as to hear it without a smile. + +One spring, on my way to Lyons, among the intertangled vines which the +peasants laboured to raise up again, I heard a poor, old, miserable, +and blind woman singing, with an accent of extraordinary gaiety, this +ancient village lay: + + "Nous quittons nos grands habits, + Pour en prendre de plus petits." + + [Illustration] + + + + + [Illustration: THE BIRD AS THE LABOURER OF MAN.] + + + + + [Illustration] + + + + +THE BIRD + +AS THE LABOURER OF MAN. + + +The "_miserly_ agriculturist," is the accurate and forcible expression +of Virgil. Miserly, and blind, in truth, for he proscribes the birds +which destroy insects and protect his crops. + +Not a grain will he spare to the bird which, during the winter rains, +hunted up the future insect, sought out the nests of the larvæ, +examined them, turned over every leaf, and daily destroyed myriads of +future caterpillars; but sacks of corn to the adult insects, and whole +fields to the grasshoppers which the bird would have combated! + +With his eyes fixed on the furrow, on the present moment, without +sight or foresight; deaf to the grand harmony which no one ever +interrupts with impunity, he has everywhere solicited or approved the +laws which suppressed the much-needed assistant of his labour, the +insect-destroying bird. And the insects have avenged the bird. It has +become necessary to recall in all haste the banished. In the island +of Bourbon, for example, a price was set on each martin's head; they +disappeared, and then the grasshoppers took possession of the island, +devouring, extinguishing, burning up with harsh acridity all that they +did not devour. The same thing has occurred in North America with the +starling, the protector of the maize. The sparrow even, which attacks +the grain, but also defends it--the thieving, pilfering sparrow, loaded +with so many insults, and stricken with so many maledictions--it has +been seen that without him Hungary would perish; that he alone could +wage the mighty war against the cockchafers and the myriad winged foes +which reign in the low-lying lands: his banishment has been revoked, +and the courageous militia hastily recalled which, if not strictly +disciplined, are not the less the salvation of the country. + +No long time ago, near Rouen, and in the valley of Monville, the +crows had for a considerable period been proscribed. The cockchafers, +accordingly, profited to such an extent--their larvæ, multipled _ad +infinitum_, pushed so far their subterranean works--that an entire +meadow was pointed out to me as completely withered on the surface; +every root of grass or herb was eaten up; and all the turf, easily +detached, could be rolled back on itself just as one raises a carpet. + +All toil, all appeals of man to nature, supposes the intelligence of +the natural order. Such is the order, and such the law: _Life has +around it and within it its enemy--most frequently as its guest--the +parasite which undermines and cankers it_. + +Inert and defenceless life, especially vegetable, deprived of +locomotion, would succumb to it but for the stronger support of the +indefatigable enemy of the parasite, the merciless pursuer, the winged +conqueror of the monsters. + +The war rages _without_ under the Tropics, where they surge up on all +sides. _Within_ in our climates, where everything is hidden, more +profound, and more mysterious. + +In the exuberant fecundity of the Torrid Zone, the insects, those +terrible destroyers of plant-life, carry off the superfluous. They +are there a necessity. They ravage among the prodigious abundance of +spontaneous plants, of lost seeds, of the fruits which Nature scatters +over the wastes. Here, in the narrow field watered by the sweat of +man, they garner in his place, devour his labour and its harvest; they +attack even his life. + + [Illustration] + +Do not say, "Winter is on my side; it will check the foe." Winter +does but slay the enemies which would perish of themselves. It kills +especially the ephemera, whose existence was already measured by that +of the flower, or the leaf with which it was bound up. But, before +dying, the prescient atom assures the safety of its posterity; it finds +for it an asylum, conceals and carefully deposits its future, the germ +of its reproduction. As eggs, as larvæ, or in their own shapes, living, +mature, armed, these invisible creatures sleep in the bosom of the +earth, awaiting their opportunity. Is she immovable, this earth? In +the meadows I see her undulate--the black miner, the mole, continues +her labours. At a higher elevation, in the dry grounds, stretch the +subterranean granaries, where the philosophical rat, on a good pile of +corn, passes the season in patience. + +All this life breaks forth at spring-time. From high, from low, on the +right, on the left, these predatory tribes, _échelonned_ by legions +which succeed one another and relieve one another each in its month, +in its day--the immense, the irresistible conscription of nature--will +march to the conquest of man's works. The division of labour is +perfect. Each has his post marked out, and will make no mistake. Each +will go straight to his tree or his plant. And such will be their +tremendous numbers, that not a leaf but will have its legion. + +What wilt thou do, poor man? How wilt thou multiply thyself? Hast thou +wings to pursue them? Hast thou even eyes to see them? Thou mayest kill +them at thy pleasure; their security is complete: kill, annihilate +millions; they live by thousands of millions! Where thou triumphest by +sword and fire, burning up the plant itself, thou hearest all around +the light whirring of the great army of atoms, which gives no heed to +thy victory, and destroys unseen. + +Listen. I will give thee two counsels. Weigh them, and adopt the wiser. + +The first remedy for this, if you resolve upon fighting your foe, is +to poison everything. Steep your seeds in sulphate of copper; put your +barley under the protection of verdigris. This the foe is unprepared +for; it disconcerts him. If he touches it, he dies or sickens. You, +also, it is true, are scarcely flourishing; your adventurous stratagem +may help the plagues which devastate our era. Happy age! The benevolent +labourer poisons at the outset; this copper-coloured corn, handed over +to the baker, ferments with the sulphate; a simple and agreeable means +of "raising" the light _pâte_, to which, perhaps, people would object. + +No; adopt a better course than this. Take your side. Before so many +enemies it is no shame to fall back. Let things go, and fold your +arms. Rest, and look on. Be like that brave man who, on the eve of +Waterloo, wounded and prostrate, contrived to lift himself up and scan +the horizon; but he saw there Blucher, and the great cloud of the black +army. Then he fell back, exclaiming, "They are too many!" + +And how much more right have you to say so! You are alone against the +universal conspiracy of life. You also may exclaim, "They are too many!" + +You insist. See here these fields so full of inspiring hope; see the +humid pastures where I might please myself with watching the cattle +lost among the thick herbage. Let us lead thither the herds! + +They are expected. Without them what would become of those living +clouds of insects which love nothing but blood? The blood of the ox +is good; the blood of man is better. Enter; seat yourself in their +midst; you will be well received, for you are their banquet. These +darts, these horns, these pincers, will find an exquisite delicacy in +your flesh; a sanguinary orgie will open on your body for the frantic +dance of this famished host, which will not relax at least from want; +you shall see more than one fall away, and die of the intoxicating +fountain which he had opened with his dart. Wounded, bleeding, swollen +with puffed-up sores, hope for no repose. Others will come, and again +others, for ever, and without end. For if the climate is less severe +than in the zones of the South, in revenge, the eternal rain--that +ocean of soft warm water incessantly flooding our meadows--hatches in a +hopeless fecundity those nascent and greedy lives, which are impatient +to rise, to be born, and to finish their career by the destruction of +superior existences. + +I have seen, not in the marshes, but on the western heights, those +pleasant verdurous hills, clothed with woods or meadows--I have seen +the pluvial waters repose for lack of outlet; and then, when evaporated +by the sun's rays, leave the earth covered with a rich and abundant +animal production--slugs, snails, insects of a myriad species, all +people of terrible appetite, born with sharp teeth, with formidable +apparatus, and ingenious machines of destruction. Powerless against +the irruption of an unexpected host which crawled, stirred, ascended, +penetrated, had almost eaten up ourselves, we contended with them +through the agency of some brave and voracious fowls, which never +counted their enemies, and did not criticise, but swallowed them. These +Breton and Vendean fowls, inspired with the genius of their country, +made their campaign so much the more successfully, because each waged +war in its own manner. The _black_, the _gray_, and the _egg-layer_ +(such were their military titles), marched together in close array, +and recoiled not a step; the _dreamer_ or _philosopher_ preferred +skirmishing by himself (_chouanner_), and accomplished much more work. +A superb black cat, the companion of their solitude, studied daily the +track of the field mouse and the lizard, hunted the wasp, devoured the +Spanish fly, always at some distance in advance of the respectful hens. + + [Illustration] + +One word more in reference to them, and one regret. Our business +being finished, we prepared for our departure. But what would become +of _them_? Given to a friend, they would assuredly be eaten. We +deliberated long. Then, coming to a vigorous decision, according to +the ancient creed of savage tribes, who believed that it was sweetest +to die by the hands of those we love, and thought that by eating their +heroes they themselves became heroic, we made of them, not without +lamentation, a funereal banquet. + +It is a truly grand spectacle to see descend--one might almost say from +heaven--against this frightful swarming of the universal monster-birth +which awakens in the spring, hissing, whirring, croaking, buzzing, +in its huge hunger, the universal saviour, in a hundred forms and a +hundred legions, differing in arms and character, but all endowed with +wings, all sharing a seeming privilege of ubiquity. + + [Illustration] + +To the universal presence of the insect, to its ubiquity of numbers, +responds that of the bird, of his swiftness, of his wing. The great +moment is that when the insect, developing itself through the heat, +meets the bird face to face; the bird multiplied in numbers; the bird +which, having no milk, must feed at this very moment a numerous family +with her living prey. Every year the world would be endangered if the +bird could suckle, if its aliment were the work of an individual, of a +stomach. But see, the noisy, restless brood, by ten, twenty, or thirty +little bills, cry out for their prey; and the exigency is so great, +such the maternal ardour to respond to this demand, that the desperate +tomtit, unable to satisfy its score of children with three hundred +caterpillars a day, will even invade the nests of other birds and pick +out the brains of their young. + +From our windows, which opened on the Luxemburg, we observed every +winter the commencement of this useful war of the bird against the +insect. We saw it in December inaugurate the year's labour. The honest +and respectable household of the thrush, which one might call the +leaf-lifter (_tourne-feuilles_), did their work by couples; when the +sunshine followed rain, they visited the pools, and lifted the leaves +one by one, with skill and conscientiousness, allowing nothing to pass +which had not been attentively examined. + +Thus, in the gloomiest months, when the sleep of nature so closely +resembles death, the bird continued for us the spectacle of life. Even +among the snow, the thrush saluted us when we arose. During our grave +winter walks we were always accompanied by the wren, with its golden +crest, its short, quick song, its soft and flute-like recall. The more +familiar sparrows appeared on our balconies; punctual to the hour, they +knew that twice a-day their meal would be ready for them, without any +peril to their freedom. + +For the rest, the honest labourers, on the arrival of spring, scrupled +to ask our aid. As soon as their young were able to fly, they joyously +brought them to our windows, as if to thank and bless us. + + [Illustration] + + + + + [Illustration: LABOUR--THE WOODPECKER.] + + + + + [Illustration] + + + + +LABOUR. + +THE WOODPECKER. + + +Among the calumnies of which birds have been made the victims, none +is more absurd than to say, as it has been said, that the woodpecker, +when burrowing among the trees, selects the robust and healthy trunks, +those that offer the greatest difficulties, and must increase his toil. +Common sense plainly shows that the poor animal, living upon worms and +insects, will seek the infirm, the rotten trees, those offering the +least resistance, and promising, moreover, the most abundant prey. The +persistent hostility which he wages against the destructive tribes +that would corrupt the vigorous trunk, is a signal service rendered to +man. The State owes him, if not the appointment, at least the honorary +title, of Conservator of the Forests. But what is the fact? That for +all his reward, ignorant officials have often set a price upon his +head! + +But the woodpecker would be no true type of the workman if he were +not calumniated and persecuted. His modest guild, spread over the two +worlds, serves, teaches, and edifies man. His garb varies; but the +common sign by which he may be recognized is the scarlet hood with +which the good artisan generally covers his head, his firm and solid +skull. His special tool, which is at once pickaxe and auger, chisel +and plane, is his square-fashioned bill. His nervous limbs, armed with +strong black nails of a sure and firm grasp, seat him securely on +his branch, where he remains for whole days, in an awkward attitude, +striking always from below upwards. Except in the morning, when he +bestirs himself, and stretches his limbs in every direction, like all +superior workmen, who allow a few moments' preparation in order not to +interrupt themselves afterwards, he digs and digs throughout a long +day with singular perseverance. You may hear him still later, for he +prolongs his work into the night, and thus gains some additional hours. + +His constitution is well adapted for so laborious a life. His muscles, +always stretched, render his flesh hard and leathery. The vesicle of +the gall, in him very large, seems to indicate a bilious disposition, +eager and violent in work, but otherwise by no means choleric. + +Necessarily the opinions which men have pronounced on this singular +being are widely different. They have judged this great worker well or +ill, according as they have esteemed or despised work, according as +they themselves have been more or less laborious, and have regarded a +sedentary and industrious life as cursed or blessed by Heaven. + +It has often been questioned whether the woodpecker was gay or +melancholy, and various answers have been given--perhaps all equally +good--according to species and climate. I can easily believe that +Wilson and Audubon, who chiefly refer to the golden-winged woodpecker +of the Carolinas, on the threshold of the Tropics, have found him very +lively and restless; this woodpecker gains his livelihood without toil +in a genial country, rich in insects; his curved elegant beak, less +rugged than the beak of our species, seems to indicate that he works +in less rebellious woods. But the woodpecker of France and Germany, +compelled to pierce the bark of our ancient European oaks, possesses +quite a different instrument--a hard, strong, and heavy bill. It is +probable that he devotes more hours to his toil than his American +congener. He is, as a labourer, bound by hard conditions, working more +and earning less. In dry seasons especially, his lot is wretched; his +prey flies from him, and retires to an extreme distance, in search of +moisture. Therefore he invokes the rain, with constant cry: "_Plieu! +Plieu!_" It is thus that the common people interpret his note; in +Burgundy he is called _The Miller's Procurer_; woodpecker and miller, +if the rain should not descend, would stand still and run the risk of +starving. + + [Illustration] + +One eminent ornithologist, Toussenel, an excellent and ingenious +observer, seems to me mistaken in his judgment of the woodpecker's +character, when he pronounces him a lively bird. For on what grounds? +On the amusing curvets in which he indulges to gain the heart of his +love. But who among us, or among more serious beings, in such a case, +does not do the same? He calls him also a tumbler and a clown, because +at his appearance he wheeled round rapidly. For a bird whose powers of +flight are very limited, it was perhaps the wisest course to adopt, +especially in the presence of such an admirable shot. And this proved +his good sense. A vulgar sportsman, the woodpecker, which knows the +coarseness of his flesh, would have suffered to approach him. But in +the presence of such a connoisseur and so keen a friend of birds, +he had great cause for fear, lest he should be impaled to adorn his +collection. + +I beg this illustrious writer to consider also the moral habitudes +and disposition which would be acquired from such continuous toil. +The _papillonne_ counts for nothing here, and the length of such +working-days far exceeds the convenient limit of what Fourier calls +agreeable labour. The woodpecker toils alone and on his own account; +undoubtedly he makes no complaint; he feels that it is for his interest +to work hard and to work long. Firm on his robust legs, though in a +painful attitude, he remains at his post all day, and even far into the +night. Is he happy? I believe so. Gay? I doubt it. Melancholy? By no +means. The passionate toil which renders us so grave, compensates by +driving away sorrow. + +The unintelligent artisan, or the poor over-wrought slave, whose only +idea of happiness lies in immobility, would not fail to see in a +life of such assiduity the malediction of Fate. The artisans of the +German towns assert that he is a baker, who, in the indolent ease of +his counting-house, starved the poor, deceived them, sold them false +weight. And now, as a punishment, he works, they say, and must work +until the day of judgment, living on insects only. + +A poor and unmeaning explanation! I prefer the old Italian fable: +Picus, son of Time or Saturn, was an austere hero, who scorned the +deceitful love and illusions of Circe. To avoid her, he took to himself +wings, and flew into the forest. If he bears no longer a human figure, +he has--what is better--a foreseeing and prophetic genius; he knows +that which is to come, he sees that which is to be. + +A very grave opinion upon the woodpecker is pronounced by the Indians +of North America. These heroes discern very clearly that the woodpecker +himself was a hero. They are partial to wearing the head of one which +they name "the wiry-billed woodpecker," and believe that his ardour and +courage will pass into them. A well-founded belief, as experience has +shown. The puniest heart must feel strengthened which sees ever present +before it this eloquent symbol, saying: "I shall be like it in strength +and constancy." + +Only it should be noted that, if the woodpecker be a hero, he is the +peaceful hero of labour. He asks nothing more. His beak, which might be +very formidable, and his powerful spurs, are nevertheless prepared for +everything else but combat. His toil so completely absorbs him, that no +competition could stimulate him to fight. It engulfs him, requires of +him all the exertion of his faculties. + + [Illustration] + +Varied and complex is his work. At first the skilful forester, full +of tact and experience, tests his tree with his hammer--I mean his +beak. He listens, as the tree resounds, to what it has to say, to what +there is within it. The process of auscultation, but recently adopted +in medicine, has been the woodpecker's leading act for some thousands +of years. He interrogates, sounds, detects by his ear the cavernous +voids which the substance of the tree presents. Such an one, sound +and vigorous in appearance, which, on account of its gigantic size, +has been marked out for the shipwright's axe, the woodpecker, by his +peculiar skill, condemns as worm-eaten, rotten, sure to fail in the +most fatal manner possible, to bend in construction, or to spring a +leak and so produce a wreck. + +The tree thoroughly tested, the woodpecker selects it for himself, and +establishes himself upon it; there he will exercise his art. The trunk +is hollow, therefore rotten, therefore populous; a tribe of insects +inhabits it. You must strike at the gate of the city. The citizens in +wild tumult attempt to escape, either through the walls of the city, +or below, through the drains. Sentinels should be posted; but in their +default the solitary besieger watches, and from moment to moment looks +behind to snap up the passing fugitives, making use, for this purpose, +of an extremely long tongue, which he darts to and fro like a miniature +serpent. The uncertainty of the sport, and the hearty appetite which it +stimulates, fill him with passion; his glance pierces through bark and +wood; he is present amidst the terrors and the counsels of his enemies. +Sometimes he descends very suddenly, in alarm lest a secret issue +should save the besieged. + +A tree externally sound, but rotten and corrupt within, is a terrible +image for the patriot who dreams over the destinies of cities. Rome, +at the epoch when the republic begun to totter, feeling itself like to +such a tree, trembled one day as a woodpecker alighted on the tribunal +in open forum, under the very hand of the prætor. The people were +profoundly moved, and revolved the gloomiest thoughts. But the augurs, +who had been summoned, arrived: if the bird escaped with impunity, +the republic would perish; if he remained, he threatened only him who +held the bird in his hand--the prætor. This magistrate, who was Ælius +Tubero, killed the bird immediately, died soon afterwards, and the +republic endured six centuries longer. + +This is grand, not ridiculous. It endured through this noble appeal to +the citizen's devotion. It endured through this silent response given +to it by a great heart. Such actions are fertile; they make men and +heroes; they prolong the life of states. + +To return to our bird: this workman, this solitary, this sublime +prophet does not escape the universal law. Twice a-year he grows +demented, throws off his austerity, and, shall it be said, becomes +ridiculous. Happy he among men who plays the fool but twice a-year! + +Ridiculous! He is not so because he loves, but because he loves +comically. Gorgeously arrayed, and in his finest plumage, relieving +his somewhat sombre garb by his beautiful scarlet _grecque_, he whirls +round his lady-love; and his rivals do the same. + +But these innocent workers, designed for the most serious +labours--strangers to the arts of the fashionable world, to the graces +of the humming-birds--know not in what way to manifest their duty, and +present their very humble homage but by the most uncouth curvettings. +Uncouth at least in our opinion; they are scarcely so in the eyes of +the object of these attentions. They please her, and this is all that +is needed. The queen's choice declared, no battle can take place. +Admirable are the manners of these good and worthy workmen. The others +retire aggrieved, but with delicacy cherish religiously the right of +liberty. + +Do the fortunate suitor and his fair one, think you, air their idle +loves wandering through the forests? Not at all. They instantly begin +to work. "Show me thy talents," says she, "and let me see that I have +not deceived myself." What an opportunity for an artist! She inspires +his genius. From a carpenter he becomes a joiner, a cabinet-maker; +from a cabinet-maker, a geometer! The regularity of forms, that divine +rhythm, appears to him in love. + +It is exactly the renowned history of the famous blacksmith of Anvers, +Quintin Matsys, who loved a painter's daughter, and who, to win her +love, became the greatest painter of Flanders in the sixteenth century. + + "Of Vulcan swart, love an Apelles made." + + (D'un noir Vulcain, l'amour fit un Appelle). + +Thus, one morning the woodpecker develops into the sculptor. With +severe precision, the perfect roundness which the compass might give, +he hollows out the graceful vault of a superb hemisphere. The whole +receives the polish of marble and ivory. All kinds of hygienic and +strategic precautions are not wanting. A narrow winding entry, whose +slope inclines outwards that the water may not penetrate, favours the +defence; it suffices for one head and one courageous bill to close it. + +What heart could resist all these toils? Who would not accept this +artist, this laborious purveyor for domestic wants, this intrepid +defender? Who would not believe herself able to accomplish in safety, +behind the generous rampart of this devoted champion, the delicate +mystery of maternity? + + [Illustration] + +So she resists no longer, and behold the pair installed! There is +wanting now but a nuptial chant (Hymen! O Hymeneæ!) It is not the +woodpecker's fault if Nature has denied to his genius the muse of +melody. At least, in his harsh voice one cannot mistake the impassioned +accents of the heart. + +May they be happy! May a young and amiable generation spring into life, +and mature under their eyes! Birds of prey shall not easily penetrate +here. Only grant that the serpent, the frightful black serpent, may +never visit this nest! Oh, that the child's rough hand may not cruelly +crush its sweet hope! And, above all, may the ornithologist, the friend +of birds, keep afar from this spot! + +If persevering toil, ardent love of family, heroic defence of liberty, +could impose respect and arrest the cruel hand of man, no sportsman +would touch this noble bird. A young naturalist, who smothered one +in order to impale it, has told me that he sickened of the brutal +struggle, and suffered a keen remorse; it seemed to him as if he had +committed an assassination. + +Wilson appears to have felt an analogous impression. "The first time," +says he, "that I observed this bird, in North Carolina, I wounded him +slightly in the wing, and when I caught him he gave a cry exactly +like an infant's, but so loud and lamentable that my frightened horse +nearly threw me off. I carried him to Wilmington: in passing through +the streets, the bird's prolonged cries drew to the doors and windows +a crowd of people, especially of women, filled with alarm. I continued +my route, and, on entering the court of the hotel, met the master of +the house and a crowd of people, alarmed at what they heard. Judge how +this alarm increased when I asked for what was needed both by my child +and myself. The master remained pale and stupid, and the others were +dumb with astonishment. After having amused myself at their expense for +a minute or two, I revealed my woodpecker, and a burst of universal +laughter echoed around. I ascended with it to my chamber, where I left +it while I paid attention to my horse's wants. I returned at the end of +an hour, and, on opening the door, heard anew the same terrible cry, +which this time appeared to originate in grief at being discovered in +his attempts to escape. He had climbed along the window almost to the +ceiling, immediately above which he had begun to excavate. The bed was +covered with large pieces of plaster, the laths of the ceiling were +exposed for an area of nearly fifteen square inches, and a hole through +which you could pass your thumb was already formed in the skylight; +so that, in the space of another hour, he would certainly have +succeeded in effecting an opening. I fastened round his neck a cord, +which I attached to the table, and left him--I wanted to preserve him +alive--while I went in search of food. On returning, I could hear that +he had resumed his labours, and on my entrance saw that he had nearly +destroyed the table to which he had been fastened, and against which he +had directed all his wrath. When I wished to take a sketch, he cut me +several times with his beak, and displayed so noble and so indomitable +a courage that I was tempted to restore him to his native forests. He +lived with me nearly three days, refusing all food, and I was present +at his death with sincere regret." + + [Illustration] + + + + + [Illustration: THE SONG.] + + + + + [Illustration] + + + + +THE SONG. + + +There is no one who will not have remarked that birds kept in a cage +in a drawing-room never fail, if visitors arrive and the conversation +grows animated, to take a part in it, after their fashion, by +chattering or singing. + +It is their universal instinct, even in a condition of freedom. They +are the echoes both of God and of man. They associate themselves with +all sounds and voices, add their own poesy, their wild and simple +rhythms. By analogy, by contrast, they augment and complete the grand +effects of nature. To the hoarse beating of the waves the sea-bird +opposes his shrill strident notes; with the monotonous murmuring of the +agitated trees the turtle-dove and a hundred birds blend a soft sad +cadence; to the awakening of the fields, the gaiety of the country, +the lark responds with his song, and bears aloft to heaven the joys of +earth. + +Thus, then, everywhere, above the vast instrumental concert of nature, +above her deep sighs, above the sonorous waves which escape from the +divine organ, a vocal music springs and detaches itself--that of the +bird, almost always in vivid notes, which strike sharply on this solemn +base with the ardent strokes of a bow. + +Winged voices, voices of fire, angel voices, emanations of an intense +life superior to ours, of a fugitive and mobile existence, which +inspires the traveller doomed to a well-beaten track with the serenest +thoughts and the dream of liberty. + +Just as vegetable life renews itself in spring by the return of the +leaves, is animal life renewed, rejuvenified by the return of the +birds, by their loves, and by their strains. There is nothing like it +in the southern hemisphere, a youthful world in an inferior condition, +which, still in travail, aspires to find a voice. That supreme flower +of life and the soul, Song, is not yet given to it. + +The beautiful, the sublime phenomenon of this higher aspect of the +world occurs at the moment that Nature commences her voiceless concert +of leaves and blossoms, her melodies of March and April, her symphony +of May, and we all vibrate to the glorious harmony; men and birds take +up the strain. At that moment the smallest become poets, often sublime +songsters. They sing for their companions whose love they wish to gain. +They sing for those who hearken to them, and more than one accomplishes +incredible efforts of emulation. Man also responds to the bird. The +song of the one inspires the other with song. Harmony unknown in tropic +climes! The dazzling colours which there replace this concord of sweet +sounds do not create such a mutual bond. In a robe of sparkling gems, +the bird is not less alone. + +Far different from this favoured, dazzling, glittering being are the +birds of our colder countries, humble in attire, rich in heart, but +almost paupers. Few, very few of them, seek the handsome gardens, the +aristocratic avenues, the shade of great parks. They all live with +the peasant. God has distributed them everywhere. Woods and thickets, +clearings, fields, vineyards, humid meadows, reedy pools, mountain +forests, even the peaks snow-crowned--he has allotted each winged tribe +to its particular region--has deprived no country, no locality, of this +harmony, so that man can wander nowhere, can neither ascend so high, +nor descend so low, but that he will be greeted with a chorus of joy +and consolation. + + [Illustration] + +Day scarcely begins, scarcely does the stable-bell ring out for the +herds, but the wagtail appears to conduct, and frisk and hover around +them. She mingles with the cattle, and familiarly accompanies the hind. +She knows that she is loved both by man and the beasts, which she +defends against insects. She boldly plants herself on the head of the +cow, on the back of the sheep. By day she never quits them; she leads +them homeward faithfully at evening. + +The water-wagtail, equally punctual, is at her post; she flutters round +the washerwomen; she hops on her long legs into the water, and asks for +crumbs; by a strange instinct of mimicry she raises and dips her tail, +as if to imitate the motion of beating the linen, to do her work also +and earn her pay. + +The bird of the fields before all others, the labourer's bird, is the +lark, his constant companion, which he encounters everywhere in his +painful furrow, ready to encourage, to sustain him, to sing to him +of hope. _Espoir_, hope, is the old device of us Gauls; and for this +reason we have adopted as our national bird that humble minstrel, so +poorly clad, but so rich in heart and song. + + [Illustration] + +Nature seems to have treated the lark with harshness. Owing to the +arrangement of her claws, she cannot perch on the trees. She rests on +the ground, close to the poor hare, and with no other shelter than the +furrow. How precarious, how riskful a life, at the time of incubation! +What cares must be hers, what inquietudes! Scarcely a tuft of grass +conceals the mother's fond treasure from the dog, the hawk, or the +falcon. She hatches her eggs in haste; with haste she trains the +trembling brood. Who would not believe that the ill-fated bird must +share the melancholy of her sad neighbour, the hare? + + This animal is sad, and fear consumes her. + + "Cet animal est triste et la crainte le ronge." + +LA FONTAINE. + +But the contrary has taken place by an unexpected marvel of gaiety +and easy forgetfulness, of lightsome indifference and truly French +carelessness; the national bird is scarcely out of peril before she +recovers all her serenity, her song, her indomitable glee. Another +wonder: her perils, her precarious existence, her cruel trials, do +not harden her heart; she remains good as well as gay, sociable and +trustful, presenting a model (rare enough among birds) of paternal +love; the lark, like the swallow, will, in case of need, nourish her +sisters. + +Two things sustain and animate her: love and light. She makes love for +half the year. Twice, nay, thrice, she assumes the dangerous happiness +of maternity, the incessant travail of a hazardous education. And when +love fails, light remains and re-inspires her. The smallest gleam +suffices to restore her song. + +She is the daughter of day. As soon as it dawns, when the horizon +reddens and the sun breaks forth, she springs from her furrow like an +arrow, and bears to heaven's gate her hymn of joy. Hallowed poetry, +fresh as the dawn, pure and gleeful as a childish heart! That powerful +and sonorous voice is the reapers' signal. "We must start," says the +father; "do you not hear the lark?" She follows them, and bids them +have courage; in the hot sunny hours invites them to slumber, and +drives away the insects. Upon the bent head of the young girl half +awakened she pours her floods of harmony. + +"No throat," says Toussenel, "can contend with that of the lark in +richness and variety of song, compass and _velvetiness_ of _timbre_, +duration and range of sound, suppleness and indefatigability of the +vocal chords. The lark sings for a whole hour without half a second's +pause, rising vertically in the air to the height of a thousand yards, +and stretching from side to side in the realm of clouds to gain a yet +loftier elevation, without losing one of its notes in this immense +flight. + +"What nightingale could do as much?" + + [Illustration] + +This hymn of light is a benefit bestowed on the world, and you will +meet with it in every country which the sun illuminates. There are +as many different species of larks as there are different countries: +wood-larks, field-larks, larks of the thickets, of the marshes, the +larks of the Crau de Provence, larks of the chalky soil of Champagne, +larks of the northern lands in both hemispheres; you will find them, +moreover, in the salt steppes, in the plains of Tartary withered +by the north wind. Preserving reclamation of kindly nature; tender +consolations of the love of God! + +But autumn has arrived. While the lark gathers behind the plough the +harvest of insects, the guests of the northern countries come to visit +us: the thrush, punctual to our vintage-time; and, haughty under his +crown, the wren, the imperceptible "King of the North." From Norway, +at the season of fogs, he comes, and, under a gigantic fir-tree, the +little magician sings his mysterious song, until the extreme cold +constrains him to descend, to mingle, and make himself popular among +the little troglodytes which dwell with us, and charm our cottages by +their limpid notes. + +The season grows rough; all the birds draw nearer man. The honest +bullfinches, fond and faithful couples, come, with a short melancholy +chirp, to solicit help. The winter-warbler also quits his bushes; timid +as he is, he grows sufficiently bold towards evening to raise outside +our doors his trembling voice with its monotonous, plaintive accents. + +"When, in the first mists of October, shortly before winter, the poor +proletarian seeks in the forest his pitiful provision of dead wood, a +small bird approaches him, attracted by the noise of his axe; he hovers +around him, and taxes his wits to amuse him by singing in a very low +voice his softest lays. It is the robin redbreast, which a charitable +fairy has despatched to tell the solitary labourer that there is still +some one in nature interested in him. + +"When the woodcutter has collected the brands of the preceding day, +reduced to cinders; when the chips and the dry branches crackle in the +flames, the robin hastens singing to enjoy his share of the warmth, and +to participate in the woodcutter's happiness. + +"When Nature retires to slumber, and folds herself in her mantle of +snow; when one hears no other voices than those of the birds of the +North, which define in the air their rapid triangles, or that of the +north wind, which roars and engulfs itself in the thatched roof of the +cottages, a tiny flute-like song, modulated in softest notes, protests +still, in the name of creative work, against the universal weakness, +lamentation, and lethargy." + +Open your windows, for pity's sake, and give him a few crumbs, a +handful of grain. If he sees friendly faces, he will enter the room; he +is not insensible to warmth; cheered by this brief breath of summer, +the poor little one returns much stronger into the winter. + +Toussenel is justly indignant that no poet has sung of the robin.[25] +But the bird himself is his own bard; and if one could transcribe his +little song, it would express completely the humble poesy of his life. +The one which I have by my side, and which flies about my study, for +lack of listeners of his own species, perches before the glass, and, +without disturbing me, in a whispering voice utters his thoughts to +the ideal robin which he fancies he sees before him. And here is their +meaning, so far as a woman's hand has succeeded in preserving it:-- + + [Illustration] + + "Je suis le compagnon + Du pauvre bûcheron. + + "Je le suis en automne, + Au vent des premiers froids, + Et c'est moi qui lui donne + Le dernier chant des bois. + + "Il est triste, et je chante + Sous mon deuil mêlé d'or. + Dans la brume pesante + Je vois l'azur encor. + + "Que ce chant te relève + Et te garde l'espoir! + Qu'il te berce d'un rêve, + Et te ramène au soir! + + "Mais quand vient la gelée, + Je frappe à ton carreau. + Il n'est plus de feuillée, + Prends pitié de l'oiseau! + + "C'est ton ami d'automne + Qui revient près de toi. + Le ciel, tout m'abandonne-- + Bûcheron, ouvre-moi! + + "Qu'en ce temps de disette, + Le petit voyageur, + Régalé d'une miette, + S'endorme à ta chaleur! + + "Je suis le compagnon + Du pauvre bûcheron." + + [Illustration] + + _Imitated_:-- + + I am the companion + Of the poor woodcutter. + + I follow him in autumn, + When the first chill breezes plain; + And I it is who warble + The woodlands' last sweet strain. + + He is sad, and then I sing + Under my gilded shroud, + And I see the gleam of azure + Glint through the gathering cloud. + + Oh, may the song inspiring + Revive Hope's flame again, + And at even guide thee homeward + By the magic of its strain! + + But when the streams are frozen, + I tap at thy window-pane-- + Oh, on the bird take pity, + Not a leaf, not a herb remain! + + It is thy autumn comrade + Who makes appeal to thee; + By heaven, by all forsaken, + Woodman, oh, pity me! + + Yes, in these days of famine + The little pilgrim keep; + On dainty crumbs regale him, + By the fireside let him sleep! + + For I am the companion + Of the poor woodcutter! + + [Illustration] + + [Illustration] + + + + + [Illustration: THE NEST.] + + + + + [Illustration] + + + + +THE NEST. + +ARCHITECTURE OF BIRDS. + + +I am writing opposite a graceful collection of nests of French birds, +made for me by a friend. I am able thus to appreciate, to verify the +descriptions of authors, to improve them, perhaps, if the very limited +resources of style can give any just idea of a wholly special art, less +analogous to ours than one would be tempted to believe at the first +glance. Nothing in this branch of study can supply the place of actual +sight of the objects. You must see and touch; you will then perceive +that all comparison is false and inaccurate. These things belong to a +world apart. Shall we say _above_, or _below_ the works of man? Neither +the one nor the other; but essentially different, and whose supposed +similarities (or relations) are only external. + +Let us recollect, at the outset, that this charming object, so much +more delicate than words can describe, owes everything to art, to +skill, to calculation. The materials are generally of the rudest, and +not always those which the artist would have preferred. The instruments +are very defective. The bird has neither the squirrel's hand nor the +beaver's tooth. Having only his bill and his foot (which by no means +serves the purpose of a hand), it seems that the nest should be to him +an insoluble problem. The specimens now before my eyes are for the +most part composed of a tissue or covering of mosses, small flexible +branches, or long vegetable filaments; but it is less a _weaving_ +than a _condensation_; a felting of materials, blended, beaten, and +welded together with much exertion and perseverance; an act of great +labour and energetic operation, for which the bill and the claw would +be insufficient. The tool really used is the bird's own body--his +breast--with which he presses and kneads the materials until he has +rendered them completely pliable, has thoroughly mixed them, and +subdued them to the general work. + +And within, too, the implement which determines the circular form of +the nest is no other than the bird's body. It is by constantly turning +himself about, and ramming the wall on every side, that he succeeds in +shaping the circle. + + [Illustration] + +Thus, then, his house is his very person, his form, and his immediate +effort--I would say, his suffering. The result is only obtained by a +constantly repeated pressure of his breast. There is not one of these +blades of grass but which, to take and retain the form of a curve, has +been a thousand and a thousand times pressed against his bosom, his +heart, certainly with much disturbance of the respiration, perhaps with +much palpitation. + +It is quite otherwise with the habitat of the quadruped. He comes +into the world clothed; what need has he of a nest? Thus, then, those +animals which build or burrow labour for themselves rather than for +their young. A skilful miner is the mountain rat, in his oblique +tunnel, which saves him from the winter gale. The squirrel, with hand +adroit, raises the pretty turret which defends him from the rain. The +great engineer of the lakes, the beaver, foreseeing the gathering +of the waters, builds up several stages to which he may ascend at +pleasure; but all this is done for the individual. The bird builds for +her family. Carelessly did she live in her bright leafy bower, exposed +to every enemy; but the moment she was no longer alone, the hoped for +and anticipated maternity made her an artist. The nest is a creation of +love. + + [Illustration] + +Thus, the work is imprinted with a force of extraordinary will, of a +passion singularly persevering. You see in it especially this fact, +that it is not, like our works, prepared from a model, which settles +the plan, conducts and regulates the labour. Here the conception is so +thoroughly _in_ the artist, the idea so clearly defined, that, without +frame or carcase, without preliminary support, the aerial ship is built +up piece by piece, and not a hitch disturbs the ensemble. All adjusts +itself exactly, symmetrically, in perfect harmony; a thing infinitely +difficult in such a deficiency of tools, and in this rude effort of +concentration and kneading by the mere pressure of the breast. The +mother does not trust to the male bird for all this; but she employs +him as her purveyor. He goes in quest of the materials--grasses, +mosses, roots, or branches. But when the ship is built, when the +interior has to be arranged--the couch, the household furniture--the +matter becomes more difficult. Care must be taken that the former be +fit to receive an egg peculiarly sensitive to cold, every chilled point +of which means for the little one a dead limb. That little one will +be born naked. Its stomach, closely folded to the mother's, will not +fear the cold; but the back, still bare, will only be warmed by the +bed; the mother's precaution and anxiety are, therefore, not easily +satisfied. The husband brings her some horse-hair, but it is too hard; +it will only serve as an under-stratum, a sort of elastic mattress. +He brings hemp, but that is too cold; only the silk or silky fibre of +certain plants, wool or cotton, are admissible; or better still, her +own feathers, her own down, which she plucks away, and deposits under +the nursling. It is interesting to watch the male bird's skilful and +furtive search for materials; he is apprehensive lest you should learn, +by watching him with your eyes, the track to his nest. Frequently, +if you look at him, he will take a different road, to deceive you. A +hundred ingenious little thefts respond to the mother's desire. He +will follow the sheep to collect a little wool. From the poultry-yard +he will gather the dropped feathers of the mother hen. If the farmer's +wife quit for a moment her seat in the porch, and leave behind her +distaff or ball of thread, he will spy his opportunity, and go off the +richer for a thread or two. + + [Illustration] + + [Illustration] + +Collections of nests are very recent, not numerous, and, as yet, +not rich. In that of Rouen, however, which is remarkable for its +arrangement; in that of Paris, where many very curious specimens may be +examined; you can distinguish already the different industries which +create this master-piece of the nest. What is the chronology, the +gradual growth of it? Not from one art to another (not from masonry +to weaving, for example); but in each separate art, the birds which +abandon themselves to it are more or less successful, according to the +intelligence of the species, the abundance of material, or the exigency +of climate. + +Among the burrowing birds, the booby, and the penguin, whose young, as +soon as born, spring into the sea, content themselves with hollowing +out a rude hole. But the bee-eater, the sea-swallow, which must educate +their young, excavate under the ground a dwelling which is admirably +proportioned, and not without some geometrical design. They furnish +it, moreover, and strew it with soft yielding substances on which the +fledgling will be less sensitive to the hardness or freshness of the +humid soil. + +Among the building-birds, the flamingo, which raises a pyramid of mud +to isolate her eggs from the inundated earth, and, while standing +erect, hatches them under her long legs, is contented with a rude, +rough work. It is, moreover, a stratagem. The true mason is the +swallow, which suspends her house to ours. + +The marvel of its kind is, perhaps, the wonderful carpentry which the +thrush executes. The nest, very much exposed under the moist shelter of +the vines, is made externally of moss, and amid the surrounding verdure +escapes the eye; but look within: it is an admirable cupola, neat, +polished, shining, and not inferior to glass. You may see yourself in +it as in a mirror. + +The rustic art, appropriate to the forests, of timber-work, joining, +wood-carving, is attempted on the lowest scale by the toucan, whose +bill, though enormous, is weak and thin: he attacks only worm-eaten +trees. The woodpecker, better armed, as we have seen, accomplishes +more: he is a true carpenter; until love inspires him, and he becomes a +sculptor. + +Infinite in varieties and species is the guild of basket-makers and +weavers. To note the starting-point, the advance, and the climax of an +industry so varied, would be a prolonged labour. + +The shore birds plait, to begin with, but very unskilfully. Why should +they do better? So warmly clothed by nature with an unctuous and almost +impermeable coat of plumage, they have little need to allow for the +elements. Their great art is the chase; always lank, and insufficiently +fed, the piscivora are controlled by the wants of a craving stomach. + +The very elementary weaving of the herons and storks is already +outstripped, though to no great extent, by the basket-makers of the +woods, the jay, the mocking-bird, the bullfinch. Their more numerous +brood impose on them more arduous toil. They lay down rude enough +foundations, but thereupon plant a basket of more or less elegant +design, a web of roots and dry twigs strongly woven together. The +cistole delicately interlaces three reeds or canes, whose leaves, +mingled with the web, form a safe and mobile base, undulating as the +bird rocks. The tomtit suspends her purse-like cradle to a bough, and +trusts to the wind to nurse her progeny. + +The canary, the goldfinch, the chaffinch, are skilful _felters_. The +latter, restless and suspicious, attaches to the finished nest, with +much skill and address, a quantity of white lichens, so that the +spotted appearance of the whole completely misleads the seeker, and +induces him to take this charming and cunningly disguised nest for an +accident of vegetation, a fortuitous and natural object. + + [Illustration] + +Glueing and felting play an important part in the work of the +weavers. It would be a mistake to separate these arts too widely. The +humming-bird consolidates its little house with the gum of trees. Most +birds employ saliva. Some--a strange thing, and a subtle invention of +love!--here make use of processes for which their organs are least +adapted. An American starling contrives to sew the leaves with its +bill, and does so very adroitly. + +A few skilful weavers, not satisfied with the bill, bring into play +their feet. The chain prepared, they fix it with their feet, while the +beak inserts the weft. They become genuine weavers. + +In fine, skill never fails them. It is very astonishing, but +implements _are_ wanting. They are strangely ill-adapted for the work. +Most insects, in comparison, are wonderfully furnished with arms and +utensils. But these are true workmen, are born workmen. The bird is so +but for a time, through the inspiration of love. + + [Illustration] + + + + + [Illustration: THE COMMUNITIES OF BIRDS.] + + + + + [Illustration] + + + + +THE COMMUNITIES OF BIRDS. + +ESSAYS AT A REPUBLIC. + + +The more I reflect upon it, the more clearly I perceive that the bird, +unlike the insect, is not an industrial animal. He is the poet of +nature, the most independent of created beings, with a sublime, an +adventurous, but on the whole an ill-protected existence. + +Let us penetrate into the wild American forests, and examine the means +of safety which these isolated beings invent or possess. Let us compare +the bird's resources, the efforts of his genius, with the inventions of +his neighbour, man, who inhabits the same localities. The difference +does honour to the bird; human invention is always acting on the +offensive. While the Indian has fashioned a club and a tomahawk, the +bird has built only a nest. + +For decency, warmth, and elegant gracefulness, the nest is in every +respect superior to the Indian's wigwam or the Negro's hut, which, +frequently, in Africa, is nothing but a baobab hollowed by time. + +The negro has not yet invented the door; his hut remains open. Against +the nocturnal forays of wild beasts, he obstructs the entrance with +thorns. + +Nor does the bird know how to close his nest. What shall be its +defence? A great and terrible question. + +He makes the entry narrow and tortuous. If he selects a natural nest, +as the wryneck does, in the hollow of a tree, he contracts the opening +by skilful masonry. Many, like the pine-pine, build a double nest in +two apartments: the mother sits in the alcove; in the vestibule watches +the father, an attentive sentinel, to repulse invasion. + + [Illustration] + +What enemies has he to fear! Serpents, men or apes, squirrels! And what +do I say? The birds themselves! This people, too, has its robbers. His +neighbours sometimes assist a feeble bird to recover his property, +to expel by force the unjust usurper. Naturalists assure us that the +rooks (a kind of crow) carry further the spirit of justice. They do not +pardon a young couple who, to complete their establishment the sooner, +rob the materials--"the movables"--of another nest. They assemble in a +troop of eight or ten to rend in fragments the nest of the criminals, +and completely destroy that house of theft. And punished thieves are +driven afar, and forced to begin all over again. + +Is there not here an idea of property, and of the sacred lights of +labour? + +Where shall they find securities, and how assure a commencement of +public order? It is curious to know in what way the birds have resolved +the question. + +Two solutions presented themselves. The first was that of +_association_--the organization of a government which should +concentrate force, and by the reunion of the weak form a defensive +power. The second (but miraculous? impossible? imaginative?) would +have been the realization of the _aerial city_ of Aristophanes,--the +construction of a dwelling-place guarded by its lightness from the +unwieldy brigands of the air, and inaccessible to the approaches of the +brigands of the earth--the hunter, the serpent. + +These two things--the one difficult, the other apparently +impossible--the bird has realized. + +At first, association and government. Monarchy is the inferior venture. +Just as the apes have a king to conduct each band, several species of +birds, especially in dangerous emergencies, appear to follow a chief. + +The ant-eaters have a king; so have the birds of paradise. The tyrant, +an intrepid little bird of extraordinary audacity, affords his +protection to some larger species, which follow and confide in him. +It is asserted that the noble hawk, repressing its instincts of prey +for certain species, allows the trembling families which trust in his +generosity to nestle under and around him. + +But the safest fellowship is that between equals. The ostrich, +the penguin, a crowd of species, unite for this purpose. Several +kinds, associating for the purpose of travel, form, at the moment of +emigration, into temporary republics. We know the good understanding, +the republican gravity, the perfect tactic of the storks and cranes. +Others, smaller in size or less completely armed--in climates, +moreover, where nature, cruelly prolific, engenders without pause their +formidable foes--place their abodes close together, but do not mingle +them, and under a common roof, living in separate partitions, form +veritable hives. + +The description given by Paterson appeared fabulous; but it has been +confirmed by Levaillant, who frequently encountered in Africa, studied, +and investigated the strange community. The engraving given in the +"Architecture of Birds" enables the reader more readily to comprehend +his narration. It is the image of an immense umbrella planted on +a tree, and shading under its common roof more than three hundred +habitations. "I caused it to be brought to me," says Levaillant, "by +several men, who set it on a vehicle. I cut it with an axe, and saw +that it was in the main a mass of Booschmannie grass, without any +mixture, but so strongly woven together that it was impossible for the +rain to penetrate. This is only the framework of the edifice; each +bird constructs for himself a separate nest under the common pavilion. +The nests occupy only the reverse of the roof; the upper part remains +empty, without, however, being useless; for, raised more than the +remainder of the pile, it gives to the whole a sufficient inclination, +and thus preserves each little habitation. In two words, let the reader +figure to himself a great oblique and irregular roof, whose edge in the +interior is garnished with nests ranged close to one another, and he +will have an exact idea of these singular edifices. + + [Illustration] + +"Each nest is three or four inches in diameter, which is sufficiently +large for the bird; but as they are in close contact around the roof, +they appear to the eye to form but a single edifice, and are only +separated by a small opening which serves as an entry to the nest; +and one entrance frequently is common to three nests, one of which is +placed at the bottom, and the others on each side. It has 320 cells, +and will hold 640 inhabitants, if each contains a couple, which may +be doubted. Every time, however, that I have aimed at a swarm, I have +killed the same number of males and females." + +A laudable example, and worthy of imitation! I wish I could but +believe that the fraternity of those poor little ones was a sufficient +protection. Their number and their noise may sometimes alarm the enemy, +disturb the monster, make him take another direction. But if he should +persist; if, strong in his scaly skin, the boa, deaf to their cries, +mounts to the attack, invades the city at the time when the fledglings +have as yet no wings for flight, their numbers then can but multiply +the victims. + +There remains the idea of Aristophanes, the _aerial city_--to isolate +it from earth and water, and build in the air. + +This is a stroke of genius. And to carry it out is needed the miracle +of the two foremost powers in the world--love and fear. + +Of the most vivid fear; of that which freezes your blood: if, peering +through a hole in a tree, the black flat head of a cold reptile rises +and hisses in your face, though you are a man, and a brave man, you +tremble. + +How much more must the little, feeble, disarmed creature, surprised in +its nest, and unable to make use of its wings--how much more must it +tremble, and sink panic-stricken! + +The invention of the aerial city took place in the land of serpents. + +Africa, the realm of monsters, in its horrible arid wastes, sees them +cover the earth. Asia, on the burning shore of Bombay, in her forests +where the mud ferments, makes them swarm, and fatten, and swell with +venom. In the Moluccas they are innumerable. + +Thence came the inspiration of the _Loxia pensilis_ (the grosbeak of +the Philippines). Such is the name of the great artist. + +He chooses a bamboo growing close to the water. To the branches of this +tree he delicately suspends some vegetable fibres. He knows beforehand +the weight of the nest, and never errs. To the threads he attaches, one +by one (not supporting himself on anything, but working in the air) +some sufficiently strong grasses. The task is long and fatiguing; it +presupposes an infinite amount of patient courage. + +The vestibule alone is nothing less than a cylinder of twelve to +fifteen feet, which hangs over the water, the opening being below, so +that one enters it ascending. The upper extremity may be compared to a +gourd or an inflated bag, like a chemist's retort. Sometimes five or +six hundred nests of this kind hang to a single tree. + +Such is my city of the air; not a dream and a phantasy, like that of +Aristophanes, but actual, realized, and answering the three conditions: +security both on the side of land and water, and inaccessibility to +the robbers of the air through its narrow openings, where one can only +enter by ascending with great difficulty. + +Now, that which was said to Columbus when he defied his guests to +make an egg stand upright, you perhaps will say to the ingenious bird +in reference to his suspended city. You will observe, "It was very +simple." To which the bird will reply, like Columbus, "Why did you not +discover it?" + + [Illustration] + + + + + [Illustration: EDUCATION.] + + + + + [Illustration] + + + + +EDUCATION. + + +Behold, then, the nest made, and protected by every prudential means +which the mother can devise. She rests upon her perfected work, and +dreams of the new guest which it shall contain to-morrow. + +At this hallowed moment, ought not we, too, to reflect and ask +ourselves what it is this mother's heart contains? + +A soul? Shall we dare to say that this ingenious architect, this tender +mother, has _a soul_? + +Many persons, nevertheless, full of sense and sympathy, will denounce, +will reject this very natural idea as a scandalous hypothesis. + +Their heart would incline them towards it; their mind leads them to +repel it; their mind, or at least their education, the idea which, from +an early age, has been impressed upon them. + +Beasts are only machines, mechanical automata; or if we think we can +detect in them some glimmering rays of sensibility and reason, those +are solely the effect of _instinct_. But what is instinct? A sixth +sense--I know not what--which is undefinable, which has been implanted +in them, not acquired by themselves--a blind force which acts, +constructs, and makes a thousand ingenious things, without their being +conscious of them, without their personal activity counting for aught. + +If it is so, this instinct would be invariable, and its works immovably +regular, which neither time nor circumstances would ever change. + +Indifferent minds--distracted, busy about other matters--which have +no time for observation, accept this statement upon parole. Why not? +At the first glance certain actions and also certain works of animals +appear _almost_ regular. To come to a different conclusion, more +attention, perhaps, is needed, more time and study, than the question +is fairly worth. + +Let us adjourn the dispute, and see the object itself. Let us take the +humblest example, an individual example; let us appeal to our eyes, our +own observation, such as each one of us can make with the most vulgar +of the senses. + +Perhaps the reader will permit me here to introduce, in all honesty +and simpleness, the journal of my canary, Jonquille, as it was written +hour by hour from the birth of her first child; a journal of remarkable +exactness, and, in short, an authentic register of birth. + + * * * * * + +"It must be stated, at the outset, that Jonquille was born in a cage, +and had not seen how nests were made. As soon as I saw her disturbed, +and became aware of her approaching maternity, I frequently opened her +door, and allowed her freedom to collect in the room the materials of +the bed the little one would stand in need of. She gathered them up, +indeed, but without knowing how to employ them. She put them together, +and stored them in a corner of her cage. It was very evident that the +art of construction was not innate in her, that (exactly like man) the +bird does not know until it has learned. + +"I gave her the nest ready made, at least the little basket which forms +the framework and walls of the structure. Then she made the mattress, +and felted the interior coating, but in a very indifferent manner. +Afterwards she sat on her egg for sixteen days with a perseverance, a +fervour, a maternal devotion which were astonishing, scarcely rising +for a few minutes in the day from her fatiguing position, and only when +the male was ready to take her place. + +"At noon on the sixteenth day the shell was broken in two, and we saw, +struggling in the nest, a pair of little wings without feathers, a +couple of tiny feet, a something which struggled to rid itself entirely +of its envelopment. The body was one large stomach, round as a ball. +The mother, with great eyes, outstretched neck, and fluttering wings, +from the edge of the basket looked at her child, and looked at me also, +as if to say: '_Do not come near!_' + +"Except some long down on the wings and head, it was completely naked. + +"On this first day she only gave it some drink. It opened, however, +already a bill of good proportions. + +"From time to time, that it might breathe the more easily, she moved a +little, then replaced it under her wing, and rubbed it gently. + +"The second day it ate but a very light beakful of chickweed, well +prepared, brought in the first place by the father, received by the +mother, and transmitted by her with short, quick chirps. In all +probability this was given rather for medicinal purposes than as food. + +"So long as the nursling has all it requires, the mother permits +the male bird to fly to and fro, to go and come, to attend to his +occupations. But as soon as it asks for more, the mother, with her +sweetest voice, summons the purveyor, who fills his beak, arrives in +all haste, and transmits to her the food. + +"The fifth day the eyes are less prominent; on the sixth, in the +morning, feathers stretch along the wings, and the back grows darker; +on the eighth it opens its eyes when called, and begins to stutter: +the father ventures to nourish it. The mother takes some relaxation, +and frequently absents herself. She often perches on the rim of the +nest, and lovingly contemplates her offspring. But the latter stirs, +feels the need of movement. Poor mother! in a little while it will +escape thee. + + [Illustration] + +"In this first education of the still passive and elementary life, as +in the second (and active, that of flight), of which I have already +spoken, one fact, evident and clearly discernible at every moment, +was, that everything was proportioned with infinite prudence to the +condition least foreseen, a condition essentially variable, the +nursling's individual strength; the quantity, quality, and mode of +preparation of the food, the cares of warmth, friction, cleanliness, +were all ordered with a skill and an attention to detail, modified +according to circumstance, such as the most delicate and provident +woman could hardly have surpassed. + +"When I saw her heart throbbing violently, and her eye kindling as she +gazed on her precious treasure, I exclaimed: 'Could I do otherwise near +the cradle of my son?'" + + * * * * * + +Ah, if she be a machine, what am I myself? and who will then prove +that I am a person? If she has not a soul, who will answer to me for +the human soul? To what thereafter shall we trust? And is not all +this world a dream, a phantasmagoria, if, in the most individual +actions, actions the most plainly reasoned over and calculated upon, I +am to conclude there is nothing but a lack of reason, a mechanism, an +"automatism," a species of pendulum which sports with life and thought? + +Note that our observations were made on a captive, who worked in fatal +and predetermined conditions of dwelling-place, nourishment, &c. +But how, if her action had been more evidently chosen, willed, and +meditated; if all this had transpired in the freedom of the forests, or +she had had cause to disquiet herself about many other circumstances +which captivity enabled her to ignore? I am thinking especially of +the anxiety for security, which, for the bird in savage life, is the +foremost of all cares, and which more than anything else exercises and +develops her free genius. + +This first initiation into life, of which I have just given an example, +is followed by what I shall call the _professional education_; every +bird has a vocation. + + [Illustration] + +This education is more or less arduous, according to the medium and the +circumstances in which each species is placed. That of fishing, for +instance, is simple enough for the penguin, which, in her clumsiness, +finds it difficult to conduct her brood to the sea; its great nurse +attends the little one, and offers it the food all ready; it has but +to open its bill. With the duck, this education or training is more +complex. I observed one summer, on a lake in Normandy, a duck, followed +by her brood, giving them their first lesson. The nurslings, riotous +and greedy, asked but for food. The mother, yielding to their cries, +plunged to the bottom of the water, reappearing with some small worm or +little fish, which she distributed impartially, never giving twice in +succession to the same duckling! + +In this picture the most touching figure was the mother, whose stomach +undoubtedly was also craving, but who retained nothing for herself, and +seemed happy in the sacrifice. Her visible desire was to accustom her +family to do as she did, to dive under the water intrepidly to seize +their prey. With a voice almost gentle, she implored this action of +courageous confidence. I had the happiness of seeing the little ones +plunge in, one after another, to the depth of the black abyss. Their +education was just on the eve of completion. + +This is but a simple training, and for one of the inferior vocations. +There remains to speak of that of the arts: of the art of flight, the +art of song, the art of architecture. Nothing is more complex than the +education of certain singing birds. The perseverance of the father, the +docility of the young, are worthy of all admiration. + +And this education extends beyond the family-circle. The nightingales, +the chaffinches, while still young or unskilful, know how to listen +to, and profit by, the superior bird which has been allotted to them +as their instructor. In those Russian palaces where flourishes the +noble Oriental partiality for the bulbul's song, you see everywhere +these singing-schools. The master nightingale, in his cage suspended +in the centre of a saloon, has his scholars ranged around him in their +respective cages. A certain sum per hour is paid for each bird brought +here to learn his lesson. Before the master sings they chatter and +gossip among themselves, salute and recognize one another. But as soon +as the mighty teacher, with one imperious note, like that of a sonorous +steel bell, has imposed silence, you see them listen with a sensible +deference, then timidly repeat the strain. The master complacently +returns to the principal passages, corrects, and gently sets them +right. A few then grow bolder, and, by some felicitous chords, essay to +supply the harmony to the dominant melody. + +An education so delicate, so varied, so complex, is it that of a +machine, of a brute reduced to instinct? Who can refuse in this to +acknowledge a soul? + +Open your eyes to the evidence. Throw aside your prejudices, your +traditional and derived opinions. Preconceived ideas and dogmatic +theories apart, you cannot offend Heaven by restoring a soul to the +beast.[26] How much grander the Creator's work if he has created +persons, souls, and wills, than if he has constructed machines! + +Dismiss your pride, and acknowledge a kindred in which there is nothing +to make a devout mind ashamed. What are these? They are your brothers. + +What are they? embryo souls, souls especially set apart for certain +functions of existence, candidates for the more general and more widely +harmonic life to which the human soul has attained. + +When will they arrive thither? and how? God has reserved to himself +these mysteries. + + [Illustration] + +All that we know is this: that he summons them--them also--to mount +higher and yet higher. + +They are, without metaphor, the little children of Nature, the +nurslings of Providence, aspiring towards the light in order to act and +think; stumbling now, they by Degrees shall advance much further. + + "O pauvre enfantelet! du fil de tes pensées + L'échevelet n'est encore débrouillé." + + Poor feeble child! not yet of thy thought's thread + Is the entangled skein unravellèd. + +Souls of children, in truth, but far gentler, more resigned, more +patient than those of human children. See with what silent good +humour most of them (like the horse) support blows, and wounds, and +ill-treatment! They all know how to endure disease and suffer death. +They retire apart, surround themselves with silence, and lie down in +concealment; this gentle patience often supplies them with the most +efficacious remedies. If not, they accept their destiny, and pass away +as if they slept. + +Can they love as deeply as we love? How shall we doubt it, when we +see the most timid suddenly become heroic in defence of their young +and their family? The devotedness of the man who braves death for his +children you will see exemplified every day in the martin, which not +only resists the eagle, but pursues him with heroical ardour. + +Would you wish to observe two things wonderfully analogous? Watch on +the one side the woman's delight at the first step of her infant, and +on the other the swallow at the first flight of her little nursling. + +You see in both the same anxiety, the same encouragements, examples, +and counsels, the same pretended security and lurking fear, the +trembling "Take courage, nothing is more easy;"--in truth, the two +mothers are inwardly shivering. + +The lessons are curious. The mother raises herself on her wings; the +fledgling regards her intently, and also raises himself a little; then +you see her hovering--he looks, he stirs his wings. All this goes +well, for it takes place in the nest--the difficulty begins when he +essays to quit it. She calls him, she shows him some little dainty +tit-bit, she promises him a reward, she attempts to draw him forth with +the bait of a fly. + +Still the little one hesitates. And put yourself in his place. You have +but to move a step in the nursery, between your nurse and your mother, +where, if you fell, you would fall upon cushions. This bird of the +church, which gives her first lesson in flying from the summit of the +spire, can scarcely embolden her son, perhaps can scarcely embolden +herself at the decisive moment. Both, I am sure of it, measure more +than once with their glances the abyss beneath, and eye the ground. I, +for one, declare to you, the spectacle is moving and sublime. It is an +urgent need that he should _trust_ his mother, that _she_ should have +confidence in the wing of the little one who is still a novice. From +both does Heaven require an act of faith, of courage. A noble and a +sublime starting-point! But he _has_ trusted, he has made the leap, he +will not fall. Trembling, he floats in air, supported by the paternal +breath of heaven, by the reassuring voice of his mother. All is +finished. Thenceforth he will fly regardless of the wind and the storm, +strong in that first great trial wherein he flew in faith. + + [Illustration] + + [NOTE.--_The Swallow's Flight._ According to Wilson, the swallow's + ordinary flight averages one mile per minute. He is engaged in + flying for ten hours daily. Now, as his life is usually extended + to a space of ten years, he flies, in that period, 2,190,000 + miles, or nearly eighty-eight times the circumference of the + globe. + + The swallow, as Sir Humphrey Davy observes, cheers the sense of + sight as much as the nightingale does the sense of hearing. He + is the glad prophet of the year, the harbinger of its brightest + season, and lives a life of free enjoyment amongst the loveliest + forms of nature. + + There is something peculiarly beautiful in his rapid, steady, + well-balanced flight,-- + + "Which, ere a double pulse can beat, + Is here and there with motion fleet, + As Ariel's wing could scarce exceed; + And, full of vigour as of speed, + Forestalls the dayspring's earliest gleam, + Nor fails with evening's latest beam." + + To all nations he is welcome, and by all the poets has been + celebrated with fond eulogium.--_Translator._] + + [Illustration] + + + + + [Illustration: THE NIGHTINGALE.] + + + + + [Illustration] + + + + +THE NIGHTINGALE. + +ART AND THE INFINITE. + + +The celebrated Pré-aux-Clercs, now known as the Marché Saint Germain, +is, as everybody knows, on Sundays, the Bird Market of Paris. The place +has more than one claim on our curiosity. It is a vast menagerie, +frequently renewed--a shifting, strange museum of French ornithology. + +On the other hand, such an auction of living beings, of captives many +of whom feel their captivity, of slaves whom the auctioneer exposes, +sells, and values more or less adroitly, indirectly reminds one, after +all, of the markets of the East, the auctions of human slaves. The +winged slaves, without understanding our languages, do not the less +vividly express the thought of servitude; some, born in this condition, +are resigned to it; others, sombre and silent, dream ever of freedom. +Not a few appear to address themselves to you, seem desirous of +arresting the passer-by's attention, and ask only for a good master. +How often have we seen an intelligent goldfinch, an amiable robin, +regarding us with a mournful gaze, but a gaze by no means doubtful in +its meaning, for it said: "Buy me!" + +One Sunday in summer we paid a visit to this mart, which we shall never +forget. It was not well stocked, still less harmonious; the season +of moulting and of silence had begun. We were not the less keenly +attracted by and interested in the naïve attitude of a few individuals. +Ordinarily their song and their plumage, the bird's two principal +attributes, preoccupy us, and prevent us from observing their lively +and original pantomime. One bird, the American mocking-bird, has a +comedian's genius, distinguishing all his songs by a mimicry strictly +appropriate to their character, and often very ironical. Our birds +do not possess this singular art; but, without skill, and unknown +to themselves, they express, by significant and frequently pathetic +movements, the thoughts which traverse their brain. + +On this particular day, the queen of the market was a black-capped +warbler, an artist-bird of great value, set apart in the display +from the other birds, like a peerless jewel. She fluttered, _svelte_ +and charming all in her was grace. Accustomed to captivity by a long +training, she seemed to regret nothing, and could only communicate +to the soul happy and gentle impressions. She was plainly a being of +perfect geniality, and of such harmony of song and movement, that in +seeing her move I thought I heard her sing. + +Lower, very much lower, in a narrow cage, a bird somewhat larger in +size, very inhumanly confined, gave me a curious and quite opposite +impression. This was a chaffinch, and the first which I had seen blind. +No spectacle could be more painful. The man who would purchase by such +a deed of cruelty this victim's song, must have a nature alien to all +harmony, a barbarous soul. His attitude of labour and torture rendered +his song very painful to me. The worst of it is that it was human; it +reminded one of the turns of the head and the ungracious motions of the +shoulders which short-sighted persons, or men become blind, indulge +in. Such is never the case with those born blind. With a violent but +continual effort, grown habitual, the head inclined to the right, with +empty eyes he sought the light. The neck was outstretched, to sink +again between the shoulders, and swelled out to gain new strength--the +neck short, the shoulders bent. This unhappy virtuoso, whose song, +like himself, was dissembled and deformed, had been a mean image of +the ugliness of the slave-artist, if not ennobled by that indomitable +effort to pursue the light, seeking it always on high, and ever +centering his song in the invisible sun which he had treasured up in +his soul. + + [Illustration] + +Moderately capable of profiting by instruction, this bird repeats, +with a marvellous metallic _timbre_, the song of his native wood, +and preserves the particular accent of the country in which he was +born; there being as many dialects of chaffinches as there are +different districts. He remains faithful to his own; he sings only his +cradle-song, and that with an uniform rate, but with a wild passion and +an extraordinary emulation. Set opposite a rival, he will repeat it +eight hundred successive times; occasionally he dies of it. I am not +astonished that the Belgians enthusiastically celebrate the combats +of this hero of the national song, the chorister of their forest of +Ardennes, decreeing prizes, crowns, even triumphal arches, to those +acts of supreme devotion in which life is yielded for victory. + +Still lower down than the chaffinch, and in a very small and wretched +cage, peopled pell-mell with half-a-dozen birds of very different +sizes, I was shown a prisoner which I had not distinguished, a young +nightingale caught that very morning. The fowler, by a skilful +Machiavelism, had placed the little captive in a world of very joyous +slaves, quite accustomed to their confinement. These were young +troglodytes, recently born in a cage; he had rightly calculated that +the sight of the sports of innocent infancy sometimes beguiles great +grief. + +Great evidently, nay, overpowering, was his, and more impressive than +any of those sorrows which we express by tears. A dumb agony, pent up +within himself, and longing for the darkness. He had withdrawn into +the shade as far as might be, to the bottom of the cage, half hidden +in a small eating-trough, making himself large and swollen with his +slightly-bristling feathers, closing his eyes, never opening them even +when he was disturbed, shaken by the frolicsome and careless pastimes +of the young turbulents, which frequently drove one another against +him. Plainly he would neither see, nor hear, nor eat, nor console +himself. These self-imposed shadows were, as I clearly saw, an effort, +in his cruel suffering, _not to be_, an intentional suicide. With +his mind he embraced death, and died, so far as he was able, by the +suspension of his senses and of all external activity. + +Observe that, in this attitude, there was no indication of malicious, +bitter, or choleric feeling, nothing to remind one of his neighbour, +the morose chaffinch, with his attitude of violent and torturing +exertion. Even the indiscretion of the young birdlings which, without +care or respect, occasionally threw themselves upon him, could call +forth no mark of impatience. He said, obviously: "What matters it to +one who is no more?" Although his eyes were closed, I did not the less +easily read him. I perceived an artist's soul, all tenderness and all +light, without rancour and without harshness against the barbarity of +the world and the ferocity of fate. And it was through this that he +lived, through this that he could not die, because he found within +himself, in his great sorrow, the all-powerful cordial inherent in his +nature: _internal light, song_. In the language of nightingales, these +two words convey the same meaning. + +I comprehended that he did not die, because even then, despite himself, +despite his keen desire of death, he could not do otherwise than sing. +His heart chanted a voiceless strain, which I heard perfectly well:-- + + "_Lascia che io pianga! + La Libertà._" + + Liberty!-Suffer me to weep! + +I had not expected to find here once more that song which, in the old +time, and by another mouth (a mouth which shall never again be opened), +had already pierced my heart, and left a wound which no time shall +efface. + +I demanded of his custodian if he were for sale. The shrewd fellow +replied that he was too young to be sold, that as yet he did not eat +alone; a statement evidently untrue, for he was not that year's bird; +but the man wished to keep him for disposal in the winter, when, his +voice returning, he would fetch a higher price. + +Such a nightingale, born in freedom, which alone is the true +nightingale, bears a very different value to one born in a cage: +he sings quite differently, having known liberty and nature, and +regretting both. The better part of the great artist's genius is +suffering. + +_Artist!_ I have said the word, and I will not unsay it. This is not +an analogy, a comparison of things having a resemblance: no, it is the +thing itself. + +The nightingale, in my opinion, is not the chief, but the only one, of +the winged people to which this name can be justly given. + +And why? He alone is a creator; he alone varies, enriches, amplifies +his song, and augments it by new strains. He alone is fertile and +diverse in himself; other birds are so by instruction and imitation. +He alone resumes, contains almost all; each of them, of the most +brilliant, suggests a couplet to the nightingale. + +Only one other bird, like him, attains sublime results in the bold and +simple--I mean the lark, the daughter of the sun. And the nightingale +also is inspired by the light; so that, when in captivity, alone, +and deprived of love, it suffices to unloose his song. Confined for +a while in darkness, then suddenly restored to the day, he runs riot +with enthusiasm, he bursts into hymns of joy. This difference, +nevertheless, exists between the two birds: the lark never sings in +the night; hers is not the nocturnal melody, the hidden meaning of the +grand effects of evening, the deep poesy of the shadows, the solemnity +of midnight, the aspirations before dawn--in a word, that infinitely +varied poem which translates and reveals to us, in all its changes, a +great heart brimful of tenderness. The lark's is the lyrical genius; +the nightingale's, the epic, the drama, the inner struggle,--from +thence, a light apart. In deep darkness, it looks into its soul, into +love; soaring at times, it would seem, beyond the individual love into +the ocean of love infinite. + + [Illustration] + +And will you not call him an artist? He has the artist's temperament, +and exalted to a degree which man himself rarely attains. All +which belongs to it--all its merits, all its defects--in him are +superabundant. He is mild and timid, mistrustful, but not at all +cunning. He takes no heed to his safety, and travels alone. He is +burningly jealous, equalling the chaffinch in fiery emulation. "He will +break his heart to sing," says one of his historians.[27] He listens; +he takes up his abode, especially where an echo exists, to listen +and reply. Nervous to an excess, one sees him in captivity sometimes +sleeping long through the day with perturbing dreams; sometimes +struggling, starting up, and wildly battling. He is subject to nervous +attacks and epilepsy. + +He is kindly--he is ferocious. Let me explain myself. His heart is full +of tenderness for the weak and little. Give him orphans to watch over, +he will take charge of them, and clasp them to his heart; a male, and +aged, he nourishes and tends them as carefully as any mother-bird. On +the other hand, he is exceedingly cruel towards his prey, is greedy +and voracious; the flame which burns inly, and keeps him almost always +thin, makes him constantly feel the need of recruitment, and it is also +one of the reasons that he is so easily ensnared. It is enough to set +your bait in the morning; especially in April and May, when he exhausts +himself by singing throughout the night. In the morning, weakened, +frail, avid, he pounces blindly on the snare. Moreover, he is very +curious, and, in order to examine a novel object, will expose himself +to be caught. + +Once captured, if you do not take the precaution to tie his wings, or +rather to cover the interior and pad the upper part of the cage, he +will kill himself by the frantic fury of his movements. + +This violence is on the surface. At bottom, he is gentle and docile: it +is these qualities which raise him so high, and make him in truth an +artist. He is not only the most inspired, but the most tractable, the +most "civilizable," the most laborious of birds. + +It is a charming sight to see the fledglings gathered round their +father, listening to him attentively, and profiting by his lessons to +form the voice, to correct their faults, to soften their novice-like +roughness, to render their young organs supple. + +But how much more curious it is to see him training himself, judging, +perfecting himself, paying especial attention when he ventures on +new themes! This steadfast perseverance, which springs from his +reverence for his art and from a kind of inward religion, is the +morality of the artist, his divine consecration, which seals him +as one apart--distinguishes him from the vain improvisatore, whose +unconscientious babble is a simple echo of nature. + +Thus love and light are undoubtedly his point of departure; but art +itself, the love of the beautiful, confusedly seen in glimpses, and +very keenly felt, are a second aliment, which sustains his soul, and +supplies it with a new inspiration. And this is boundless--a day opened +on the infinite. + + [Illustration] + +The true greatness of the artist consists in overshooting his mark, +in doing more than he willed; and, moreover, in passing far beyond +the goal, in crossing the limits of the possible, and looking +beyond--beyond. + +Hence arise great sorrows, an inexhaustible source of melancholy; +hence the sublime folly of weeping over misfortunes which he has never +experienced. Other birds are astonished, and occasionally inquire of +him what is the cause of his grief, what does he regret. When free and +joyous in his forest-home, he does not the less vouchsafe for his reply +the strain which my captive chanted in his silence: + + "Lascia che io pianga!" + + Suffer me, suffer me to weep! + + + + + [Illustration: THE NIGHTINGALE.] + + + + + [Illustration] + + + + +THE NIGHTINGALE: + +CONTINUED. + + +The hours of silence are not barren for the nightingale. He gathers +his ideas and reflects; he broods over the songs which he has heard or +has himself attempted; he modifies and improves them with perfect tact +and taste. For the false notes of an ignorant master he substitutes +ingenious and harmonious variations. The imperfect strain which he has +learned, but has not repeated, he then reproduces; but made indeed his +own, appropriated by his own genius, and converted into a nightingale's +melody. + +"Do not be discouraged," says a quaint old writer, "if the young bird +be not willing to repeat your lesson, and continue to warble; soon he +will show you that he has not forgotten the lessons received in autumn +and winter--_a fit season for meditation, owing to the length of the +nights_; he will repeat them in the spring-time." + +It is very interesting to follow, during the winter, the nightingale's +thoughts, in his darkened cage, wrapped round with a green cloth, which +partially deceives his gaze, and reminds him of his forest. In December +he begins to dream aloud, to descant, to describe in pathetic notes the +things passing before his mind--the loved and absent objects. Mayhap +he then forgets that migration has been forbidden him, and thinks he +has arrived in Africa or in Syria, in lands lighted by a more generous +sun. It may be that he sees this sun; sees the rose reblossom, and +recommences for her, as say the Persian poets, his hymn of impossible +love,--"_O sun! O sea! O rose!_"--(_Rückert._) + +For myself, I believe simply that this noble and pathetic hymn, with +its lofty accent, is nought else but himself, his life of love and +combat, his nightingale's drama. He beholds the woods, the beloved +object which transfigures them. He sees her tender vivacity, and the +thousand graces of the winged life which we are unable to perceive. He +speaks to her; she answers him. He takes upon himself two characters, +and, to the full, sonorous voice of the male, replies in soft, brief +utterances. What then? I doubt not that already the rapturousness +of his life breaks upon him--the tender intimacy of the nest, the +little lowly dwelling which would have been his Eden. He believes +in it; he shuts his eyes, and completes the illusion. The egg is +hatched; his Yule-tide miracle disclosed; his son issues forth--the +future nightingale, even at its birth sublimely melodious. He listens +ecstatically, in the night of his gloomy cage, to the future song of +his offspring. + +And all this, to be sure, passes before him in a poetical confusion, +where obstacles and strife break up and disturb love's festival. No +happiness here below is pure. A _third_ intervenes. The captive in his +solitude grows irritated and eager; he struggles visibly against his +unseen adversary--_that other_, the unworthy rival which is present to +his mind. + +The scene is developed before him, just as it would have transpired +in spring, when the male birds returning, towards March or April, +and before the re-appearance of the hens, resolve to decide among +themselves their great duel of jealousy. For when the latter arrive, +all must be calm and peaceful; there should prevail nothing but love, +tranquillity, and tenderness. The battle endures some fifteen days; and +if the female birds return sooner, the effort grows deadly. The story +of Roland is literally realized; he sounded his ivory horn, even to +the extinction of strength and life. These, too, sing until their last +breath--until death: they will triumph or die. + +If it be true, as we are assured, that the lovers are two or three +times more numerous than the lady-loves, you may conceive the violence +of this burning emulousness, in which, perhaps, lurks the first spark +and the secret of their genius. + +The fate of the vanquished is terrible--worse than death. He is +constrained to fly; to quit the province, the country; to sink into +the comrade of the lower races of birds; while his song is degraded +into a _patois_. He forgets and disgraces himself; becomes vulgarized +among this vulgar people; little by little growing ignorant of his +own tongue, of theirs, of any tongue. We sometimes discover among +these exiles birds which preserve only the external likeness of the +nightingale. + +Though the rival is expelled, nothing as yet is done. The victor must +please, must subdue her. Oh! bright moment, soft inspiration of the +new song which shall touch that little proud Wild-heart, and compel it +to abandon liberty for love! The test imposed by the hen-bird in other +species is assistance in building or excavating the nest; that the +male may show he is skilful, and will take his offspring to his heart. +The effect is sometimes admirable. The woodpecker, as we have seen, +is elevated from a workman into an artist, and from a carpenter into +a sculptor. But, alas! the nightingale does not possess this talent; +he knows not how to do anything. The least among the small birds is a +hundred times more adroit with his bill, his wing, his claw. He has +only his voice which he can make use of; there his power breaks forth, +there he will be irresistible. Others may display their works, but his +work is himself; he shows, he reveals himself, and he appears sublime +and grand. + +I have never heard him at this solemn moment without thinking that not +only should he touch her heart, but transform, ennoble, and exalt her, +inspire her with a lofty ideal, with the enchanted dream of a glorious +nightingale which shall be hereafter the offspring of their love. + +Let us resume. So far, we have particularized three songs. + +The drama of the battle-song, with its alternations of envy, pride, +bravado, stern and jealous fury. + +The song of solicitation, of soft and tender entreaty, but mingled with +haughty movements of an almost imperious impatience, wherein genius is +visibly astonished that it still remains unrecognized, is irritated at +the delay, and laments it; returning quickly, however, to its tone of +reverent pleading. + +Finally comes the song of triumph: "I am the conqueror, I am loved, the +king, the divinity, and the creator." In this last word lies all the +intensity of life and love; for it is she, above all, that creates, +mirroring and reflecting his genius, and so transforming herself that +henceforth there is not in her a movement, a breath, a flutter of the +wings, which does not owe its melodiousness to him, rendered visible in +this enchanted grace. + +Thence spring the nest, the egg, the infant. All these are an embodied +and living song. And this is the reason that he does not stir from +her for a moment, during the sacred labour of incubation. He does not +remain in the nest, but on a neighbouring branch, slightly elevated +above it. He knows marvellously well that his voice is most potent +at a distance. From this exalted position, the all-powerful magician +continues to fascinate and fertilize the nest; he co-operates in the +great mystery, and still inspires with song, and heart, and breath, and +will, and tenderness. + +This is the time that you should hear him, should hear him in his +native woods, should participate in the emotions of this powerful +fecundity, the most proper perhaps to reveal, to enable us to +comprehend here below the great hidden Deity which eludes us. He +recedes before us at every step, and science does no more than put a +little further back the veil wherein he conceals himself. "Behold," +said Moses, "behold him who passes, I have seen him by the skirts." "Is +it not he," said Linné, "who passes? I have seen him in outline." And +for myself, I close my eyes; I perceive him with an agitated heart, I +feel him stirring within me on a night enchanted by the voice of the +nightingale. + + [Illustration] + +Let us draw near; it is a lover: yet keep you distant, for it is a god. +The melody, now vibrating with a glowing appeal to the senses, anon +grows sublime and amplified by the effects of the wind; it is a strain +of sacred harmony which swells through all the forest. Near at hand, it +is occupied with the nest, their love, the son which will be born; but +afar, another is the beloved, another is the son: it is Nature, mother +and daughter, eternal love, which hymns and glorifies itself; it is the +infinite of love which loves in all things and sings in all; these are +the tendernesses, the canticles, the songs of gratitude, which go up +from earth to heaven. + + * * * * * + +"Child, I have felt this in our southern fields, during the beautiful +starry nights, near my father's house. At a later time, I felt it more +keenly, especially in the vicinity of Nantes, in the lonesome vineyard +of which I have spoken in a preceding page. The nights, less sparkling, +were lightly veiled with a warm haze, through which the stars +discreetly sent their tender glances. A nightingale nestled on the +ground, in a spot but half concealed, under my cedar tree, and among +the periwinkle-flowers. He began towards midnight, and continued until +dawn; happily, manifestly proud, in his solitary vigil, and filling +the majestic silence with his voice. No one interrupted him except, +near morning, the cock, a creature of a different world, a stranger +to the songs of the spirit, but a punctual sentinel, who felt himself +conscientiously compelled to indicate the hour and warn the workman. + +"The other persisted for some time in his strain, seeming to say, like +Juliet to Romeo: 'No, it is not the day.' + +"His stationing himself near us showed that he feared nothing, that he +knew how profound a security he might enjoy by the side of two hermits +of work, very busy, very benevolent, and not less occupied than the +winged solitary in their song and their dream. We could watch him +at our ease, either fluttering about _en famille_, or maintaining a +rivalry in song with a haughty neighbour who sometimes came to brave +him. In course of time we became, I think, rather agreeable to him, as +assiduous auditors, amateurs, perhaps connoisseurs. The nightingale +feels the want of appreciation and applause; he plainly has a great +regard for man's attentive ear, and fully comprehends his admiration. + +"Once more I can see him, at some ten or fifteen paces distant, hopping +forward in accordance with my movements, preserving the same interval +between us, so as to keep always out of reach, but at the same time to +be heard and admired. + +"The attire in which you are clothed is by no means a matter of +indifference to him. I have observed that birds in general do not like +black, and that they are afraid of it. I was dressed quite to his +fancy, in white shaded with lilac, with a straw hat ornamented with a +few blossoms. Every minute I could see him fix upon me his black eye, +of a singular vivacity, wild and gentle, sometimes a little proud, +which said plainly, 'I am free, and I have wings; against me thou canst +do nothing. But I am very willing to sing for thee.' + +"We had a succession of severe storms at breeding-time, and on one +occasion the thunder rolled near us. No scene can be more affecting +than the approach of these moments: the air fails; fish rise to the +surface in order to breathe a little; the flower bends languidly; +everything suffers, and tears flow unbidden. I could see clearly that +his feelings were in unison with the general distress. From his bosom, +oppressed like mine, broke a kind of hoarse sob, like a wild cry. + + [Illustration] + +"But the wind, which had suddenly risen, now plunged into our woods; +the loftiest trees, even the cedar, bent. Torrents of rain dashed +headlong, all was afloat. What became of the poor little nest, exposed +on the ground, with no other shelter than the periwinkle's leaf? It +escaped; for when the sun reappeared, I saw my bird flying in the +purified air, gayer than ever, with his heart full of song. All the +world of wings then hymned the light; but he more loudly than any. +His clarion voice had returned. I saw him beneath my window, his eye +on fire and his breast swollen, intoxicating himself with the same +happiness that made my heart palpitate. + +"Tender alliance of souls! Why does it not everywhere exist, between us +and our winged brothers, between man and the universal living nature?" + + [Illustration] + + + + + [Illustration: CONCLUSION.] + + + + + [Illustration] + + + + +CONCLUSION. + + +At the very moment that I am about to pen the conclusion of this book, +our illustrious master arrives from his great autumnal sport. Toussenel +brings me a nightingale. + +I had requested him to assist me with his advice, to guide me in +choosing a singing nightingale. He does not write, but he comes; he +does not advise, he looks about, finds, gives, realizes my dream. This, +of a truth, is friendship. + +Be welcome, bird, both for the sake of the cherished hand which brings +thee, and for thy own, for thy hallowed muse, the genius which dwells +within thee! + +Wilt thou sing readily for me, and, by thy puissance of love and calm, +shed harmony on a heart troubled by the cruel history of men? + +It was an event in our family, and we established the poor +artist-prisoner in a window-niche, but enveloped with a curtain; in +such wise that, being both in solitude and yet in society, he might +gradually accustom himself to his new hosts, reconnoitre the locality, +and assure himself that he was under a safe, a peaceful, and benevolent +roof. + +No other bird lived in this saloon. Unfortunately, my familiar robin, +which flies freely about my study, penetrated into the apartment. +We had troubled ourselves the less about him, because he saw daily, +without any emotion, canaries, bullfinches, nightingales; but the sight +of the nightingale threw him into an incredible transport of fury. +Passionate and intrepid, without heeding that the object of his hate +was twice his own size, he pounced on the cage with bill and claws; he +would fain have killed its inmate. The nightingale, however, uttered +cries of alarm, and called for help with a hoarse and pitiful voice. +The other, checked by the bars, but clinging with his claws to the +frame of an adjacent picture, raged, hissed, _crackled_ (the popular +word _petillait_ alone expresses his short, sharp cry), piercing him +with his glances. He said, in effect:-- + +"King of song, what dost thou here? Is it not enough that in the woods +thy imperious and absorbing voice should silence all our lays, hush +our strains into whispers, and singly fill the desert? Yet thou comest +hither to deprive me of the new existence which I have found for +myself, of this artificial grove where I perch all the winter, a grove +whose branches are the shelves of a library, whose leaves are books! +Thou comest to share, to usurp the attention of which I was the object, +the reverie of my master, and my mistress's smile! Woe to thee! I _was_ +loved!" + + [Illustration] + +The robin does, in reality, attain to a very high degree of familiarity +with man. The experience of a long winter proves to me that he much +prefers human society to that of his own kind. In our absence he shares +in the small talk of the birds of the aviary; but as soon as we +arrive, he abandons them, and comes curiously to place himself before +us, remains with us, seems to say, "You are here, then! But where have +you been? And why have you absented yourself so long from home?" + +The invasion of the robin, which we soon forgot, was not forgotten, it +appears, by his timorous victim. The unfortunate nightingale fluttered +about ever afterwards with an air of alarm, and nothing could reassure +him. + +Care was taken, however, that no one should approach him. His mistress +had charged herself with the necessary attentions. The peculiar mixture +which alone can nourish this ardent centre of life (blood, hemp, and +poppy), was conscientiously prepared. Blood and flesh, these are the +substance; hemp is the herb of intoxication; but the poppy neutralizes +it. The nightingale is the only creature which it is necessary to feed +incessantly with sleep and dreams. + +But all was in vain. Two or three days passed in a violent agitation, +and in abstinence through despair. I was melancholy, and filled with +remorse. I, a friend of freedom, had nevertheless a prisoner, and a +prisoner who would not be consoled! It was not without some scruples +that I had formed the idea of procuring a nightingale; for the mere +sake of pleasure, I should never have come to such a decision. I knew +well that the very spectacle of such a captive, deeply sensible of its +captivity, was a permanent source of sorrow. But how should I set him +free? Of all questions, that of slavery is the most difficult; the +tyrant is punished by the impossibility of finding a remedy for it. +My captive, before coming into my possession, had been two years in a +cage, and had neither wings nor the impulse of industry to seek his own +food; but had it been otherwise, he could return no more to the free +birds. In their proud commonwealth, whoever has been a slave, whoever +has languished in a cage and not died of grief, is pitilessly condemned +and put to death. + +We should not easily have escaped from this dilemma, if song had not +come to our assistance. A soft, almost monotonous strain, sung at a +distance, especially just before evening, appeared to influence and +win upon him. If we did but look at him, he listened less attentively, +and grew disturbed; but if we turned aside our gaze, he came to the +brink of the cage, stretched out his long, fawn-like neck (of a +charming mouse-like gray), raised every now and then his head, his +body remaining motionless, with a keen inquiring eye. With evident +avidity, he tasted and enjoyed this unexpected pleasure, with grateful +recollection, and delicate and sensitive attention. + +This same avidity he felt a minute afterwards for his food. He was fain +to live, he devoured the poppy, forgetfulness. + +A woman's songs, Toussenel had told me, are those which affect them +most; not the vivacious aria of a wayward damsel, but a soft, sad +melody. Schubert's "Serenade" had a peculiar influence upon our +nightingale. He seemed to feel and recognize himself in that German +soul, as tender as it was profound. + +His voice, however, he did not regain. When transported to my house, he +had begun his December songs. The emotions of the journey, the change +of _locale_ and of persons, the inquietude which he had experienced in +his new condition, and, above all, the ferocious welcome, the robin's +assault, had too deeply moved him. He grew tranquil, asked no more of +us; but the muse, so rudely interrupted, was thenceforth silent, and +did not awake until spring. + +Meanwhile, he certainly knew that the person who sang afar off wished +him no evil; he apparently supposed her to be a nightingale of another +form. She might without difficulty approach, and even put her hand in +his cage. He regarded intently what she did, but did not stir. + +It became a curious question to me, who had not contracted with him +this musical alliance, to know if he would also accept me. I showed no +indiscreet eagerness, knowing that even a look, at certain moments, +vexes him. For many days, therefore, I kept my attention fixed on the +old books or papers of the fourteenth century, without observing him. +But he, he would examine me very curiously when I was alone. Be it +understood, however, that when his mistress was present, he entirely +forgot me, I was annulled! + +Thus he grew accustomed to see me daily without any uneasiness, as an +inoffensive, pacific being, with little of movement or noise about me. +The fire in the grate, and near the fire this peaceable reader, were, +during the absences of the preferred individual, in the still and +almost solitary hours, his objects of contemplation. + +I ventured yesterday, being alone, to approach him, to speak to him +as I do to the robin, and he did not grow agitated, he did not appear +disturbed; he listened quietly, with an eye full of softness. I saw +that peace was concluded, and that I was accepted. + +This morning I have with my own hand placed the poppy seed in the cage, +and he is not the least alarmed. You will say: "Who gives is welcome." +But I assert that our treaty was signed yesterday, before I had given +him anything, and was perfectly disinterested. + +See, then, in less than a month, the most nervous of artists, the +most timid and mistrustful of beings, grows reconciled with the human +species. + +A curious proof of the natural union, of the pre-existent alliance +which prevails between us and these creatures of instinct, which we +call _inferior_. + + [Illustration] + +This alliance, this eternal fact, which our brutality and our ferocious +intelligences have not yet been able to rend asunder, to which these +poor little ones so readily return, to which we shall ourselves +return, when we shall be truly men, is exactly the conclusion this book +has aimed at, and which I was about to write, when the nightingale +entered, and the father with the nightingale. + +The bird himself has been, in that facile amnesty which he has granted +to us, his tyrants, my living conclusion. + + * * * * * + +Those travellers who have been the first to penetrate into lands +hitherto untrodden by man, unanimously report that all animals, +mammals, amphibians, birds, do not shun them, but, on the contrary, +rather approach to regard them with an air of benevolent curiosity, to +which they have responded with musket-shots. + +Even to-day, after man has treated them so cruelly, animals, in their +times of peril, never hesitate to draw near him. + +The bird's ancient and natural foe is the serpent; the enemy of +quadrupeds is the tiger. And their protector is man. + +From the furthest distance that the wild dog smells the scent of the +tiger or the lion, he comes to press close to us. + +And so, too, the bird, in the horror which the serpent inspires, +especially when it threatens his callow brood, finds a language of the +most forcible character to implore man's help, and to thank him if he +kills his enemy. + + [Illustration] + +For this reason the humming-bird loves to nestle near man. And it is +probably from the same motive that the swallows and the storks, in +times fertile in reptiles, have acquired the habit of dwelling among us. + +Here an observation becomes essential. We often construe as a sign of +mistrust the bird's flight and his fear of the human hand. This fear +is only too well founded. But even if it did not exist, the bird is +an infinitely nervous and delicate creature, which suffers if simply +touched. + +My robin, which belongs to a very robust and friendly race of birds, +which continually draws near us, as near as possible, and which +assuredly has no fear of his mistress, trembles to fall into her hand. +The rustling of his plumes, the derangement of his down, all bristling +when he has been handled, he keenly dislikes. The sight, above +all, of the outstretched hand about to seize him, makes him recoil +instinctively. + +When he lingers about in the evening, and does not return into his +cage, he does not refuse to be replaced within it; but sooner than see +himself caught, he turns his back, hides in a crease or fold of the +gown where he well knows he must infallibly be taken. + +All this is not mistrust. + + * * * * * + +The art of domestication will make no progress if it occupies itself +only with the services which tamed animals may render to man. + +It ought to proceed in the main from the consideration of the service +which man may render the animals; + +Of his duty to initiate all the tenants of this world into a gentler, +more peaceable, and superior society. + + * * * * * + +In the barbarism in which we are still plunged, we know of only two +conditions for the animal, absolute liberty or absolute slavery; but +there are many forms of demi-servitude which the animals themselves +would willingly accept. + +The small Chili falcon (_cernicula_), for example, loves to dwell with +his master. He goes alone on his hunting expeditions, and faithfully +returns every evening with what he has captured, to eat it _en +famille_. He feels the want of being praised by the father, flattered +by the dame, and, above all, caressed by the children. + + [Illustration] + +Man, formerly protected by the animals, while he was indifferently +armed, has gradually risen into a position to become their protector, +especially since he has had powder, and enjoyed the possibility of +shooting down from a distance the most formidable creatures. He has +rendered birds the essential service of infinitely diminishing the +number of the robbers of the air. + +He may render them another, and not a less important one--that of +sheltering at night the innocent species. Night! sleep! complete +abandonment to the most frightful chances! Oh! harshness of Nature! But +she is justified, inasmuch as she has planted here below the far-seeing +and industrious being who shall more and more become for all others a +second providence. + +"I know a house on the Indre," says Toussenel, "where the greenhouses, +open at even, receive every honest bird which seeks an asylum against +the dangers of the night, where he who has delayed till late knocks +with his bill in confidence. Content to be immured during the night, +secure in the loyalty of their host, they fly away happy in the +morning, and repay him for his hospitality with the spectacle of their +joy and their unrestricted strains." + + * * * * * + +I shall exercise great caution in speaking of their domestication, +since my friend, M. Isidore Geoffrey Saint Hilaire, reopens in so +praiseworthy a manner this long-forgotten question. + +An allusion will suffice. Antiquity in this special branch has +bequeathed us the admirable patrimony which has supported the human +race: the domestication of the dog, the horse, and the ass; of the +camel, the elephant, the ox, the sheep, the goat, and poultry. + +What progress has been made in the last two thousand years? What new +acquisition? + +Two only, and these unquestionably trivial: the importation of the +turkey and the China pheasant. + + [Illustration] + +No direct effort of man has accomplished so much for the welfare of the +globe as the humble toil of the modest auxiliaries of human life. + +To descend to that which we so foolishly despise, to the poultry-yard, +when one sees the millions of eggs which the ovens of Egypt hatch, or +with which our Normandy loads the ships and fleets that every year +traverse the Channel, one learns to appreciate how the small agencies +of domestic economy produce the greatest results. + +If France did not possess the horse, and some person introduced it, +such a conquest would be of greater benefit to her than the conquest of +the Rhine, of Belgium, of Savoy; the horse alone would be worth three +kingdoms. + +But here now is an animal which represents in itself the horse, the +ass, the cow, the goat; which combines all their useful qualities, and +which yields moreover an incomparable wool; a hardy, robust animal, +enduring cold with wonderful vigour. You understand, of course, that +I refer to the lama, which M. Isidore Geoffrey Saint Hilaire exerts +himself, with so laudable a perseverance, to naturalize in France. +Everything seems leagued in his despite: the fine flock at Versailles +has perished through malice; that of the Jardin des Plantes will perish +through the confined area and dampness of the locality. + +The conquest of the lama is ten times more important than the conquest +of the Crimea. + + * * * * * + +But again, this species of transplantation needs a generosity of means, +a combination of precautions, let us say a tenderness of education, +which are rarely found united. + +One word here--one small fact--whose bearing is not small. + +A great writer, who was not a man of science, Bernardin de Saint +Pierre, had remarked that we should never succeed in transplanting the +animal unless we imported along with him the plant to which he was +especially partial. This observation fell to the ground, like so many +other theories which excite the philosophical smile, and which men of +science name _poetry_. + +But it has not been made in vain, for an enlightened amateur had +formed here, in Paris, a collection of living birds. However constant +his attentions, a very rare she-parrot which he had obtained remained +obstinately barren. He ascertained in what kind of plant she made her +nest, and commissioned a person to procure it for him. It could not +be got alive; he received it leafless and branchless; a simple dead +trunk. It mattered not; the bird, in this hollow trunk discovered her +accustomed place, and did not fail to make therein her nest. She laid +eggs, she hatched them, and now her owner has a colony of young ones. + + * * * * * + +To re-create all the conditions of abode, food, vegetable environment, +the harmonies of every kind which shall deceive the exile into a +forgetfulness of his country, is not only a scientific question, but a +task of ingenious invention. + +To determine the limit of slavery, of freedom, of alliance and +collaboration with ourselves, proper for each individual creature, is +one of the gravest subjects which can occupy us. + +A new art is this; nor shall you succeed in it without a moral gravity, +a refinement, a delicacy of appreciation which as yet are scarcely +understood, and shall only exist perhaps when Woman undertakes those +scientific studies from which she has hitherto been excluded. + +This art supposes a tenderness unlimited in justice and wisdom. + + [Illustration] + + + + + [Illustration: ILLUSTRATIVE NOTES.] + + + + + [Illustration] + + + + +ILLUSTRATIVE NOTES. + + +The chief illustration of a book is incontestably the formula in which +it is summed up. Here it is, then, in few words:-- + +This book has considered the bird _in himself_, and but little in +relation to man. + +The bird, born in a much lower condition than man (oviparous, like the +serpent), possesses three advantages over him, which are his special +mission:-- + +I. _The wing_, _flight_, an unique power, which is the dream of man. +Every other creature is slow. Compared with the falcon or swallow, the +Arab horse is a snail. + +II. Flight itself does not appertain solely to the wing, but to an +incomparable power of _respiration and vision_. The bird is peculiarly +the son of air and light. + +III. An essentially electrical being, the bird sees, knows, and +foresees earth and sky, the weather, the seasons. Whether through an +intimate relation with the globe, whether through a prodigious memory +of localities and routes, he is always facing eastward, and always +knows his path. + +He swoops; he penetrates; he attains what man shall never attain. This +is evident, particularly in his marvellous war against the reptile and +the insect. + +Add the marvellous work of continual purification of everything +dangerous and unclean, which some species accomplish. If this war and +this work ceased but for one day, man would disappear from the earth. + +This daily victory of the beloved son of light over death, over a +murderous and tenebrous life, is the fitting theme of his _song_, of +that hymn of joy with which the bird salutes each Dawn. + +But, besides song, the bird has many other languages. Like man, he +prattles, recites, converses. He and man are the only beings which have +really a language. Man and the bird are the voice of the world. + +The bird, with its gift of augury, is ever drawing near to man, who +is ever inflicting injury upon him. He undoubtedly divines, and has a +presentiment of, what he will one day become when he emerges from the +barbarism in which he is now unhappily plunged. + +He recognizes in him the creature unique, sanctified, and blessed, who +ought to be the arbiter of all, who should accomplish the destiny of +this globe by one supreme act of good--the union of all life and the +reconciliation of all beings. + +This pacific union must after a time be effected by a great art of +education and initiation, which man begins to comprehend. + + [Illustration] + +Page 64. _Training for flight_ (see also p. 84).--Is it wrong for man, +in his reveries, to beguile himself into a belief that he will one day +be more than man, to attribute to himself wings? Dream or presentiment, +it matters not. + +It is certain that a power of flight such as the bird possesses +is truly a _sixth sense_. It would be absurd to see in it only an +auxiliary of touch. (See, among other works, Huber, _Vol des oiseaux +de proie_, 1784). + +The wing is so rapid and so infallible only because it is aided by a +visual faculty which has not its equal in all creation. + +The bird, we must confess, lives wholly in the air, in the light. If +there be a sublime life, a life of fire, it is this. + +Who surveys and descries all earth? Who measures it with his glance and +his wing? Who knows all its paths? And not in any beaten route, but at +the same time in every direction: for where is not the bird's track? + +His relations with heat, electricity, and magnetism, all the +imponderable forces, are scarcely known to us; we see them, however, in +his singular meteorological prescience. + +If we had seriously studied the matter, we should have had the balloon +for some thousands of years; but even with the balloon, and the balloon +capable of being _steered_, we should still be enormously behind the +bird. To imitate its mechanism, and exactly reproduce its details, is +not to possess the agreement, the _ensemble_, the unity of action, +which moves the whole with so much facility and with such terrible +swiftness. + +Let us renounce, for this life at least, these higher gifts, and +confine ourselves to examine the two machines--our own and the +bird's--in those points where they differ least. + +The human machine is superior in what is its smallest peculiarity, its +susceptibility of adaptation to the most diverse purposes, and, above +all, in its omnipuissance of the hand. + +On the other hand, he has far less unity and centralization. Our +inferior limbs, our thighs, and legs, which are very long, perform +eccentric movements far from the central point of action. Circulation +is very slow; a thing perceptible in those last moments, when the body +is dead at the feet before the heart has ceased to throb. + +The bird, almost spherical in form, is certainly the apex, divine and +sublime, of living centralization. We can neither see nor imagine a +higher degree of unity. From his excess of concentration he derives +his great personal force, but it implies his extreme individuality, his +isolation, his social weakness. + +The profound, the marvellous solidarity, which is found in the higher +genera of insects, as in the bees and ants, is not discovered among +birds. Flocks of them are common, but true republics are rare. + +Family ties are very strong in their influence, such as maternity and +love. Brotherhood, the sympathy of species, the mutual assistance +rendered even by different kinds, are not unknown. Nevertheless, +fraternity is strong among them in the inferior line. The whole heart +of the bird is in his love, in his nest. + +There lies his isolation, his feebleness, his dependence; there also +the temptation to seek for himself a defender. + +The most exalted of living beings is not the less one of those which +the most eagerly demand protection. + + [Illustration] + + [Illustration] + +Page 67. _On the life of the bird in the egg._--I draw these details +from the accurate M. Duvernoy. Ovology in our days has become a +science. Yet I know but a few treatises specially devoted to the +bird's egg. The oldest is that of an Abbé Manesse, written in the last +century, very verbose, and not very instructive (the MS. is preserved +in the Museum Library). The same library possesses the German work +of Wirfing and Gunther on nests and eggs; and another, also German, +whose illustrations appear of a superior character, although still +defective. I have seen a part of a new collection of engravings, much +more carefully executed. + +Page 74. _Gelatinous and nourishing seas._--Humboldt, in one of his +early works ("Scenes in the Tropics"), was the first, I think, to +authenticate this fact. He attributes it to the prodigious quantity of +medusæ, and other analogous creatures, in a decomposed state in these +waters. If, however, such a cadaverous dissolution really prevailed +there, would it not render the waters fatal to the fish, instead of +nourishing them? Perhaps this phenomenon should be attributed rather to +nascent life than to life extinct, to that first living fermentation in +which the lowest microscopic organizations develop themselves. + +It is especially in the Polar Seas, whose aspect is so wild and +desolate, that this characteristic is observed. Life there abounds in +such excess that the colour of the waters is completely changed by +it. They are of an intense olive-green, thick with living matter and +nutriment. + + [Illustration] + + [Illustration] + +Page 91. _Our Museum._--In speaking of its collections, I may not +forget its valuable library, which now includes that of Cuvier, and +has been enriched by donations from all the physicists of Europe. +I have had occasion to acknowledge very warmly the courtesy of the +conservator, M. Desnoyers, and of M. le Docteur Lemercier, who has +obligingly supplied me with a number of pamphlets and curious memoirs +from his private collection. + +Page 94. _Buffon._--I think that now-a-days too readily forget that +this great _generalizer_ has not the less received and recorded a +number of very accurate observations furnished him by men of special +vocations, officers of the royal hunt, gamekeepers, marines, and +persons of every profession. + + [Illustration] + +Page 96. _The Penguin._--The brother of the auk, but less degraded; +he carries his wings like a veritable bird, though they are only +membranes floating on an evoided breast. The more rarified air of our +northern pole, where he lives, has already expanded his lungs, and the +breast-bone begins to project. The legs, less closely confined to the +body, better maintain its equilibrium, and the port and attitude gain +in confidence. There is here a notable difference between the analogous +products of the two hemispheres. + + [Illustration] + +Page 103. _The Petrel, the mariner's terror._--The legend of the +petrel gliding upon the waves, around the ship which he appears to +lead to perdition, is of Dutch origin. This is just as it ought to +be. The Dutch, who voyage _en famille_, and carry with them their +wives, their children, even their domestic animals, have been more +susceptible to evil auguries than other navigators. The hardiest of +all, perhaps--true amphibians--they have not the less been anxious and +imaginative, hazarding not only their lives, but their affections, and +exposing to the fantastic chances of the sea the beloved home, a world +of tenderness. That small lumbering bark, which is in truth a floating +house, will nevertheless go, ever rolling across the seas of the North, +the great Arctic Ocean, and the furious Baltic, accomplishing without +pause the most dangerous voyages, as from Amsterdam to Cronstadt. We +laugh at these ugly vessels and their antiquated build, but he who +observes how plenteously they combine the two purposes of store-room +for the cargo and accommodation for the family, can never see them in +the ports of Holland without a lively interest, or without lavishing on +them his good wishes. + + [Illustration] + +Page 113. _Epiornis._--The remains of this gigantic bird and its +enormous egg may be seen in the Museum. It is computed that its size +was fivefold that of the ostrich. How much we must regret that our rich +collection of fossils, or the major part, lies buried in the drawers +of the Museum for want of room. For thirty or forty thousand francs +a wooden gallery might be constructed, in which the whole could find +opportunities of display. + +Meanwhile, we argue as if these vast studies, now in their very +infancy, had already been exhausted. Who knows but that man has only +seen the threshold of the prodigious world of the dead? He has scarcely +scratched the surface of the globe. The deeper explorations to which +he is constrained by the thousand novel needs of art and industry (as +that, for example, of piercing the Alps for a new railway) will open +to science unexpected prospects. Palæontology as yet is built upon +the narrow foundation of a _minimum_ number of facts. If we remember +that the dead--owing to the thousands of years the globe has already +lived--are enormously more numerous than the living, we cannot but +consider this method of reasoning upon a few specimens very audacious. +It is a hundred, nay, a thousand to one, that so many millions of dead, +once disinterred, will convict us of having erred, at least, through +_incomplete enumeration_. + + [Illustration] + +Page 113. _Man had perished a hundred times._--Here we trace one of the +early causes of the limited confederacy originally existing between +man and the animal--a compact forgotten by our ungrateful pride, and +without which, nevertheless, the existence of man had been impossible. + +When the colossal birds whose remains we are constantly exhuming had +prepared for him the globe, had subjugated the crawling, climbing life +which at first predominated--when man came upon the earth to confront +what remained of the reptiles, to confront those new but not less +formidable inhabitants of our planet, the tiger and the lion--he found +on his side the bird, the dog, and the elephant. + +At Alexandria may be seen the last few individuals of those giant dogs +which could strangle a lion. It was not through terror that these +formidable animals allied themselves with man, but through natural +sympathy, and their peculiar antipathy to the feline race, the giant +cat (the tiger or lion). + +Without the alliance of the dog against beasts of prey, and that of the +bird against serpents and crocodiles (which the bird kills in the very +egg), man had assuredly been lost. + +The useful friendship of the horse originated in the same cause. You +may trace it in the indescribable and convulsive horror which every +young horse experiences at the mere odour of the lion. He attaches, he +surrenders himself to man. + +Had he not possessed the horse, the ox, and the camel--had he been +compelled to bear on his back and shoulders the heavy burdens of which +they relieve him--man would have remained the miserable slave of his +feeble organization. Borne down by the habitual disproportion of weight +and strength, either he would have abandoned labour, have lived upon +chance victims, without art or progress; or, rather, he would have +lived earth's everlasting porter--crooked, dragging, and drawing, with +sunken head, never gazing on the sky, never thinking, never raising +himself to the heights of invention. + + [Illustration] + +Page 132. _On the power of insects._--It is not only in the Tropical +world that they are formidable; at the commencement of the last century +half Holland perished because the piles which strengthen its dykes +simultaneously gave way, invisibly undermined by a worm named the +_taret_. + +This redoubtable nibbler, which is often a foot in length, never +betrays itself; it only works within. One morning the beam breaks, the +framework yields, the ship engulfed founders in the waves. + +How shall we reach, how discover it? A bird knows it--the lapwing, the +guardian of Holland. And it is thus a notable imprudence to destroy, as +has been done, his eggs. (Quatrefages, _Souvenirs d'un Naturaliste_.) + +France, for more than a century, has suffered from the importation of a +monster not less terrible--the _termite_, which devours dry wood just +as the taret consumes wet wood. The single female of each swarm has the +horrible fecundity of laying daily eighty thousand eggs. La Rochelle +begins to fear the fate of that American city which is suspended in the +air, the termites having devoured all its foundations, and excavated +immense catacombs beneath. + +In Guiana the dwellings of the termites are enormous hillocks, fifteen +feet in height, which men only venture to attack from a distance, and +by means of gunpowder. You may judge, therefore, the importance of the +ant-eater, which dares to enter this gulf, and seek out the horrible +female whence issues so accursed a torrent. (Smeathmann, _Mémoire sur +les Termites_.) + +Does climate save us? The termites prosper in France. Here, too, the +cockchafer flourishes; and even on the northern slopes of the Alps, +under the very breath of the glaciers, it devours vegetation. In the +presence of such an enemy every insectivorous bird should be respected; +at least, the canton of Vaud has recently placed the swallow under the +protection of the law. (See the work of Tschudi.) + + [Illustration] + +Page 134. _You frequently detect there a strong odour of musk._--The +plain of Cumana, says Humboldt, presents, after heavy rains, an +extraordinary phenomenon. The earth, moistened and reheated by the +sun's rays, gives forth that odour of musk which, under the torrid +zone, is common to animals of very different classes--to the jaguar, +the small species of the tiger-cat, the cabiai, the galinazo vulture, +the crocodile, the viper, the rattlesnake. The gaseous emanations which +are the vehicles of this aroma appear only to disengage themselves +in proportion as the soil enclosing the _débris_ of an innumerable +quantity of reptiles, worms, and insects, becomes impregnated with +water. Everywhere that one stirs up the soil, one is struck by the +mass of organic substances which alternately develop, transform, or +decompose. Nature in these climates appears more active, more prolific, +one might say more lavish of life. + + [Illustration] + +Pages 136, 137. _Humming-birds and colibris._--The eminent naturalists +(Lesson, Azara, Stedmann, &c.) who have supplied so many excellent +descriptions of these birds, are not, unfortunately, as rich in details +of their manners, their food, their character. + +As to the terrible unhealthiness of the places where they live (and +live with so intense a life), the narratives of the old travellers--of +Labat and others--are folly confirmed by the moderns. Messieurs +Durville and Lesson, in their voyage to New Guiana, scarcely dared to +cross the threshold of its profound virgin forests, with their strange +and terrible beauty. + +The most fantastic aspect of these forests--their prodigious fairylike +enchantment of nocturnal illumination by myriads of fire-flies--is +attested and very forcibly described, as far as relates to the +countries adjoining Panama, by a French traveller, M. Caqueray, who has +recently visited them. (See his Journal in the new _Revue Française_, +10th June 1855.) + + [Illustration] + +Page 153. _The valuable museum of anatomical collections_--that of +Doctor Auzoux.--I cannot too warmly thank, on this occasion, our +esteemed and skilful professor, who condescends to instruct us ignorant +people, men of letters, men of the world, and women. He willed that +anatomy should descend to all, should become popular; and it is done. +His admirable imitations, his lucid demonstrations, gradually work out +that great revolution whose full extent can already be perceived. Shall +I dare to tell men of science my inmost thought? They themselves will +have an advantage in possessing always at hand these objects of study +under so convenient a form and in enlarged proportions, which greatly +diminish the fatigue of attention. A thousand objects, which seem to +us different because different in size, recover their analogies, and +reappear in their true relative forms, through the simple process of +enlargement. + +America, I may add, appears more keenly sensible of these advantages +than we are. An American speculator had desired M. Auzoux to supply him +yearly with two thousand copies of his figure of man, being certain of +disposing of them in all the small towns, and even in the villages. +Every American village, says M. Auzoux, endeavours to obtain a museum, +an observatory, &c. + + [Illustration] + +Page 157. _The suppression of pain._--To prevent death is undoubtedly +impossible; but we may prolong life. We may eventually render rarer, +less cruel, and almost _suppress pain_. + +That the hardened old world laughs at this expression is so much the +better. We have seen this spectacle in the days when our Europe, +barbarized by war, centred all medical art in surgery, and only knew +how to cure by the knife by a horrible prodigality of suffering, young +America discovered the miracle of that profound dream in which all pain +is annihilated.[28] + + [Illustration] + +Page 157. _The useful equilibrium of life and death._--Numerous species +of birds no longer make a halt in France. One with difficulty descries +them flying at inaccessible elevations, deploying their wings in haste, +accelerating their passage, saying,--"Pass on, pass on quickly! Let us +avoid the land of death, the land of destruction!" + +Provence, and many other departments in the south, are barren deserts, +peopled by every living tribe, and therefore vegetable nature is sadly +impoverished. You do not interrupt with impunity the natural harmonies. +The bird levies a tax on the plant, but he is its protector. + +It is a matter of notoriety that the bustard has almost disappeared +from Champagne and Provence. The heron has passed away; the stork is +rare. As we gradually encroach upon the soil, these species, partial +to dusty wastes and morasses, depart to seek a livelihood elsewhere. +Our progress in one sense is our poverty. In England the same fact +has been observed. (See the excellent articles on Sport and Natural +History, translated from Messrs. St. John, Knox, Gosse, and others, in +the _Revue Britannique_.) The heath-cock retires before the step of the +cultivator; the quail passes into Ireland. The ranks of the herons grow +daily thinner before the _utilitarian improvements_ of the nineteenth +century. But to these causes we must add the barbarism of man, which +so heedlessly destroys a throng of innocent species. Nowhere, says M. +Pavie, a French traveller, is game more timid than in our fields. + +Woe to the ungrateful people! And by this phrase I mean the sporting +crowd who, unmindful of the numerous benefits we owe to animals, +have exterminated innocent life. A terrible sentence of the Creator +weighs upon the tribes of sportsmen,--_they can create nothing_. +They originate no art, no industry. They have added nothing to the +hereditary patrimony of the human species. What has their heroism +profited the Indians of North America? Having organized nothing, having +accomplished nothing permanent, these races, despite their singular +energy, have disappeared from the earth before inferior men, the last +emigrants of Europe. + +Do not believe the axiom that huntsmen gradually develop into +agriculturists. It is not so--they kill or die; such is their whole +destiny. We see it clearly through experience. He who has killed, will +kill; he who has created, will create. + +In the want of emotion which every man suffers from his birth, the +child who satisfies it habitually by murder, by a miniature ferocious +drama of surprise and treason, of the torture of the weak, will find +no great enjoyment in the gentle and tranquil emotions arising from +the progressive success of toil and study, from the limited industry +which does everything itself. To create, to destroy--these are the two +raptures of infancy: to create is a long, slow process; to destroy is +quick and easy. The least act of creation implies those best gifts of +the Creator and of kindly Nature: gentleness and patience. + +It is a shocking and hideous thing to see a child partial to "sport;" +to see woman enjoying and admiring murder, and encouraging her child. +That delicate and sensitive woman would not give him a knife, but she +gives him a gun: kill at a distance--be it so! for we do not see the +suffering. And this mother will think it admirable that her son, kept +confined to his room, shall drive off _ennui_ by plucking the wings +from flies, by torturing a bird or a little dog. + +Far-seeing mother! She will know when too late the evil of having +formed a hard heart. Aged and weak, rejected of the world, she will +experience in her turn her son's brutality. + + * * * * * + +But rifle practice? They will object to you. Must not the child grow +skilful in killing, that, from murder to murder, he may at last arrive +at the surpassing feat of killing the flying swallow? The only country +in Europe where everybody knows how to handle a musket is that where +the bird is least exposed to slaughter. The land of William Tell knew +how to place before her children a juster and more exalted object when +they liberated their country. + + * * * * * + +France is not cruel. Why, then, this love of murder, this extermination +of the animal world? + +It is the _impatient people_, the _young people_, the _childish +people_, in a rude and restless childhood. If they cannot be doing in +creating, they will be doing by destroying. + +But what they most fatally injure is--themselves! A violent education, +stormily impassioned in love or severity, crushes in the child, +withers, chokes up the first moral flower of natural sensitiveness, all +that was purest of the maternal milk, the germ of universal love which +rarely blooms again. + +Among too many children we are saddened by their almost incredible +sterility. A few recover from it in the long circle of life, when they +have become experienced and enlightened men. But the first freshness of +the heart? It shall return no more.[29] + +How is it that this nation, otherwise born under such felicitous +circumstances, is, with rare and local exceptions, accursed with so +singular an incapacity for harmony? It has its own peculiar songs, +its charming little melodies of vivacity and mirth. But it needs a +prolonged effort, a special education, to attain to harmony. + + [Illustration] + +Page 158. _Flattening of the brain._--The weight of the brain, compared +with that of the body, is, in the + + Ostrich, in the ratio of 1 to 1200 + Goose, 1 to 360 + Duck, 1 to 257 + Eagle, 1 to 160 + Plover, 1 to 122 + Falcon, 1 to 102 + Paroquet, 1 to 45 + Robin, 1 to 32 + Jay, 1 to 28 + Chaffinch, cock, sparrow, goldfinch, 1 to 25 + Hooded tomtit, 1 to 16 + Blue-cap tomtit, 1 to 12 + + (_Estimate of Haller and Leuret._) + + [Illustration] + +Page 158. _The noble falcon._--The _noble_ birds (the falcon, +gerfalcon, saker) are those which _hold_ their prey by the _talon_, and +kill it with the bill: their bill, for this purpose, is toothed. The +_ignoble_ birds (the eagle, the kite, &c.) are for the most part swift +of flight (_voiliers_): these employ their talons to rend and choke +their victims. The _rameurs_ rise with difficulty, which enables the +_voiliers_ to escape them the more easily. The tactics of the former +are to feign, in the first place, to rise to a great height; and then, +by suffering themselves to drop, they disconcert the manoeuvres of +the _voiliers_. (Huber, _Vol des Oiseaux de Proie_, 1784, 4to. He was +the first of that clever lineage, Huber of the birds, Huber of the +bees, Huber of the ants.) + + [Illustration] + +Page 177. _Its happiness in the morning, when terrors +vanish!_--"Before" (says Tschudi) "the vermeil tints of the early dew +have announced the approach of the sun, oftentimes before even the +lightest gleam has heralded dawn in the east, while the stars still +sparkle in the sombre azure of heaven, a low murmur resounds on the +summit of a venerable pine, and is speedily followed by a more or less +distinct prattling; then the notes arise, and an interminable series +of keen sounds strike the air on every side like a clang of swords +continually hurtled one against another. It is the coupling time of +the wood-cock. With his eye a-flame, he dances and springs on the +branch, while below him, in the copse, his hens repose tranquilly, and +reverently contemplate the mad antics of their lord and master. He is +not long left alone to animate the forest. The mavis rises in his turn, +shaking the dew from his glittering feathers. Behold him whetting his +bill upon the branch, and leaping from bough to bough, up to the very +crest of the maple tree where he has slept, astonished to find nearly +all life still slumbering in the forest, though the dawn has taken the +place of night. Twice, thrice, he hurls his _fanfare_ at the echoes of +the mountain and the valley, which a dense mist still envelopes. + +"Thin columns of white smoke escape from the roof of the cottages; +the dogs bark around the farm-yards; and the bells ring suspended to +the neck of the cow. The birds now quit their thickets, flutter their +wings, and dart into the air to salute the sun, which once more comes +to bless them with his bounteous light. More than one poor little +sparrow rejoices that he has escaped the perils of the darkness. +Perched on a little twig, he had trusted to enjoy his slumber without +alarm, his head buried beneath his wing, when, by the ray of a star, +he discerned the noiseless screech-owl gliding through the trees, +intent upon some misdeed. The pole-cat stole from the valley-depth, the +ermine descended from the rock, the pine-marten quitted his nest, the +fox prowled among the bushes. All these enemies the poor little one +watched during this terrible night. On his tree, on the earth, in the +air--destruction menaced him on every side. How long, how long were +the hours when, not daring to move, his only protection was the young +leaves which screened him! And now, how great the pleasure to ply his +unfettered wing, to live in safety, protected, defended by the light! + +"The chaffinch raises with all his energy his clear and sonorous note; +the robin sings from the summit of the larch, the goldfinch amid +the alder-groves, the blackbird and the bullfinch beneath the leafy +arbours. The tomtit, the wren, and the troglodyte mingle their voices. +The stockdove coos, and the woodpecker smites his tree. But far above +these joyous utterances re-echo the melodious strains of the woodlark +and the inimitable song of the thrush." + + [Illustration] + +Page 185. _Migrations._--For the famished Arab, the lank inhabitant +of the desert, the arrival of the migrating birds, weary and heavy at +this season, and, therefore, easy to catch, is a blessing from God, a +celestial manna. The Bible tells us of the raptures of the Israelites, +when, during their wanderings in Arabia Petræa, fasting and enfeebled, +they suddenly saw descending upon them the winged food: not the locusts +of abstemious Elias, not the bread with which the raven nourished his +bowels, but the quail heavy with fat, delicious and yet substantial, +which voluntarily fell into their hands. They ate to repletion; and no +longer regretted the rich flesh-pots of Pharaoh. + +I willingly excuse the gluttony of the famished. But what shall I say +of our people, in the richest countries of Europe, who, after harvest +and vintage-time, with barns and cellars brimming full, pursue with no +less fury these poor travellers? Thin or fat, they are equally good: +they would eat even the swallows; they devour the song-birds, "those +which have only a voice." Their wild frenzy dooms the nightingale to +the spit, plucks and kills the household guest, the poor robin, which +yesterday fed from their hands. + +The migration season is a season of slaughter. The law which impels +southward the tribes of birds is, for millions, a law of death. +Many depart, few return; at each stage of their route they must pay +a tribute of blood. The eagle waits on his crag, man watches in the +valley. He who escapes the tyrant of the air, falls a victim to the +tyrant of the earth. "A fortunate opportunity!" exclaims the child or +the sportsman, the ferocious child with whom murder is a jest. "God has +willed it so!" mutters the pious glutton; "let us be resigned!" These +are the judgments of man upon the carnival of massacre. As yet we know +nothing more, for history has not written the opinions of the massacred. + + * * * * * + + [Illustration] + +Migrations are exchanges for every country (except the poles, at the +epoch of winter). The particular condition of climate or food, which +decides the departure of one species of birds, is precisely that which +determines the arrival of another species. When the swallow quits us +at the autumn rains, we note the arrival of the army of plovers and +peewits in quest of the lobworms driven from their lurking-places by +the floods. In October, and as the cold increases, the greenfinches, +the yellow-hammers, the wrens, replace the song-birds which have +deserted us. The snipes and partridges descend from their mountains at +the moment when the quail and the thrush emigrate towards the south. +It is then, too, that the legions of the aquatic species quit the +extreme north for those temperate climes where the seas, the lakes, and +the pools, do not freeze. The wild geese, the swans, the divers, the +ducks, the teal, cleave the air in battle array, and swoop down upon +the lakes of Scotland and Hungary, and our marshes of the south. The +delicate stork flies southward, when his cousin, the crane, sets out +from the north, where his supplies begin to fail him. Passing over our +lands, he pays us tribute by delivering us from the last reptiles and +batrachians which a warm autumnal breeze has restored to life. + +Page 188. _My muse is the light._--And yet the nightingale loses it +when he returns to us from Asia. But all true artists require that it +should be softly ordered, blended with rays and shadows. Rembrandt in +his paintings has exhausted the effects, at once warm and soft, of the +science of chiaro-oscuro. The nightingale begins his song when the +gloom of evening mingles with the last beams of the sun; and hence it +is that we tremble at his voice. Our soul in the misty and uncertain +hours of the gloaming regains possession of the inner light. + + [Illustration] + +Page 215. _Do not say, "Winter is on my side."_--While M. de +Custine was travelling in Russia, he tells us that, at the fair of +Nijni-Novgorod, he was frightened by the multitude of _blattes_ which +thronged his chamber, with an infectious smell, and which could not +be got rid of. Dr. Tschudi, a careful traveller, who has explored +Switzerland in its smallest details, assures us that at the breath of +the south wind, which melts the snow in twelve hours, innumerable hosts +of cockchafers ravage the country. They are not a less terrible scourge +than the locusts to the south. + +During our Italian tour, my wife and I made an observation which will +not have escaped the notice of naturalists; namely, that the cockchafer +does not die in autumn. From the inhabited portions of our palazzo, +almost entirely shut up in winter, we saw clouds of these insects +emerge in the spring, which had slept peacefully in expectation of +its warmth. Moreover, in that country, even ephemeral insects do not +perish. Gigantic gnats wage war against us every night, demanding our +blood with sharp and strident voice. + +If, by the side of these proofs of the multiplication of insects, +even in temperate or cold countries, we put the fact that the swallow +is not satisfied with less than one thousand flies _per diem_; that +a couple of sparrows carry home to their young four thousand three +hundred caterpillars or beetles weekly; a tomtit three hundred daily; +we see at once the evil and the remedy. We quote these figures from +M. Quatrefages (_Souvenirs_), and from a letter written by Mr. Walter +Trevelyan to the editor of "The Birds of Great Britain," translated in +the _Revue Britannique_, July 7, 1850. + +I offer the reader a very incomplete summary of the services rendered +to us by the birds of our climate. + +Many are the assiduous guardians of our herds. The heron +_garde-boeuf_, making use of his bill as a lancet, cuts the flesh of +the ox to extract from it a parasitical worm which sucks the blood and +life of the animal. The wagtails and the starlings render very similar +services to our cattle. The swallows destroy myriads of winged insects +which never rest, and which we see dancing in the sun's rays; gnats, +midges, flies. The goat-suckers and the martinets, twilight hunters, +effect the disappearance of the cockchafers, the gnats, the moths, and +a swarm of nibbling insects (_rongeurs_), which work only by night. +The magpie hunts after the insects which, concealed beneath the bark +of the tree, live upon its sap. The humming-bird, the fly-catcher, the +_soui-mangas_, in tropical countries, purify the chalice of the flower. +The bee-eater, in all lands, carries on a fierce hostility against the +wasps which ruin our fruit. The goldfinch, partial to uncultivated +soil and the seeds of the thistle, prevents the latter from spreading +over the ground. Our garden birds, the chaffinches, blackcaps, +blackbirds, tits, strip our fruit-bushes and great trees of the grubs, +caterpillars, and beetles, whose ravages would be incalculable. A +large number of these insects remain during winter in the egg or the +larva, waiting for spring to burst into life; but in this state they +are diligently hunted up by the mavis, the wren, the troglodyte. The +former turn over the leaves which strew the earth; the latter climb +to the loftiest branches, or clear out the trunk. In wet meadows, you +may see the crows and storks boring the ground to seize on the white +worm (_ver blanc_) which, for three years before metamorphosing into a +cockchafer, gnaws at the roots of our grasses. + +Here we pause, not to weary our reader, and yet the list of useful +birds is scarcely glanced at. + + [Illustration] + +Page 228. _The woodpecker, as an augur._--Are the methods of +observation adopted by meteorology serious and efficacious? Some men +of science doubt it. It might, perhaps, be worth while examining if we +could not deduce any part of the meteorology of the ancients from their +divination by birds. The principal passages are pointed out in Pauly's +Encyclopædia (Stuttgard), article _Divinatio_. + +"The woodpecker is a favoured bird in the steppes of Poland and Russia. +In these sparsely wooded plains he constantly directs his course +towards the trees; by following him, you discover a hidden ravine, a +little later some springs, and finally descend towards the river. Under +the bird's guidance you may thus explore and reconnoitre the country." +(Mickiewicz, _Les Slaves_, vol. i., p. 200.) + + [Illustration] + +Page 235. _Song._--Do not separate what God has joined together. If +you place a bird in a cage beside you, his song quickly fatigues you +with its sonorous timbre and its monotony. But in the grand concert of +Nature, that bird would supply his note, and complete the harmony. This +powerful voice would subdue itself to the modulations of the air; soft +and tender it would glide, borne upon the breeze. + +And then, in the deep woody depths, the singer incessantly moves from +place to place, now drawing near, and now receding; hence arise those +distant effects which induce a delightful reverie, and that delicate +cadence which thrills the heart. + +Under our roof his song would be ever the same; but on the pinions of +the wind the music is divine, it penetrates and ravishes the soul. + + [Illustration] + +Page 241. _The robin hastens, singing, to enjoy his share of the +warmth._--I find this admirable passage in "The Conquest of England by +the Normans" (by Augustin Thierry). The chief of the barbarous Saxons +assembles his priests and wise men to ascertain if they will become +Christians. One of them speaks as follows:-- + +"Thou mayst remember, O king, a thing which sometimes happens, when +thou art seated at table with thy captains and men-at-arms, in the +winter season, and when a fire is kindled and the hall well warmed, +while there are wind and rain and snow without. There comes a little +bird, which traverses the room on fluttering wing, entering by one +door and flying out at another: the moment of its passage is full of +sweetness for it, it feels neither the rain nor the storm; but this +interval is brief, the bird vanishes in the twinkling of an eye, and +_from winter passes away into winter_. Such seems to me the life of man +upon this earth, and its limited duration, compared with the length of +the time which precedes and follows it." + + [Illustration] + +From winter he passes into winter. "Of wintra in winter eft cymeth." + +Page 247. _Nests and Hatching._--In the vast extent of the islands +linking India to Australia, a species of bird of the family +_Gallinaceæ_ dispenses with the labour of hatching her eggs. Raising an +enormous hillock of grasses whose fermentation will produce a degree +of heat favourable to the process, the parents, as soon as this task +is completed, trust to Nature for the reproduction of their kind. +Mr. Gould, who furnishes these curious details, speaks also of some +curious nests constructed by another species of bird. It consists of +an avenue formed by small branches planted in the ground, and woven +together at their upper extremities in the fashion of a dome. The +structure is consolidated by enlaced and intertwined herbs. This first +stage of their labour accomplished, the artists proceed to the work of +decoration. They seek in every direction, and often at a distance, the +gaudiest feathers, the finest polished shells, and the most brilliant +stones, to strew over the entrance. This avenue would seem, however, +not to be the nest, but the place where the birds hold their first +rendezvous. (See the coloured plates in Mr. Gould's magnificent volume, +"Australian Birds.") + + [Illustration] + +Page 266. _Instinct and Reason._--The ignorant and inattentive think +all things _nearly alike_. And Science perceives that all things +differ. According as we learn to observe, do these differences become +apparent; that imperceptible "shade," and worthless "almost," which +at the outset does not prevent us from confusing all things with +one another, really distinguishes them, and points out a notable +discrepancy, a wide interval betwixt this object and that, a blank, a +_hiatus_, sometimes an enormous abyss, which separates and holds them +apart,--so much so, that occasionally between these things, at first +sight _so nearly alike_, a whole world will intervene, without the +power of bringing them together. + +It has been asserted and repeated that the works of insects presented +an absolute similarity, a mechanical regularity. And yet our Reaumurs +and our Hubers have discovered numerous facts which positively +contradict this pretended symmetry, especially in the case of the ant, +whose life is complicated with so many incidents, so many unforeseen +exigencies, that she would never provide against them but for the rapid +discernment, the promptitude of mind, which is one of the most striking +characteristics of her individuality. + +It has been supposed that the nests of birds are always constructed +on identical principles. Not at all. A close observation reveals the +fact that they differ according to the climate and the weather. At New +York, the baltimore makes a closely fitted nest, to shelter him from +the cold. At New Orleans his nest is left with a free passage for the +air to diminish the heat. The Canadian partridges, which in winter +cover themselves with a kind of small pent-roof at Compiègne, under a +milder sky do away with this protection, because they judge it to be +useless. The same discernment prevails in relation to the seasons. The +American spring, in the opening years of the present century, occurring +very late, the woodpecker (of Wilson) wisely made his nest two weeks +later. I will venture to add that I have seen, in southern France, this +delicate appreciation of climatic changes varying from year to year; by +an inexplicable foresight, when the summer was likely to be cold, the +nests were always more thickly woven. + +The guillemot of the north (_mergula_), which fears above all things +the fox, on account of his partiality for her eggs, builds her nest on +a rock level with the water, so that, no sooner are they hatched than +the brood, however closely dogged by the plunderer, have time to escape +in the waves. On the other hand, here, on our coasts, where her only +enemy is man, she makes her nest on the loftiest and most precipitous +cliffs, where man can with difficulty reach it. + +Ignorant persons, and no less those naturalists who study natural +history in books only, acknowledge the differences existing between +species, but believe that the actions and labours of the individuals +of a species invariably correspond. Such a view is possible when you +have only seen things from above and afar, in a sublime generality. +But when the naturalist takes in hand his pilgrim's staff--when, as +a modest, resolute, indefatigable pilgrim of Nature, he assumes his +shoes of iron--all things change their aspect: he sees, notes, compares +numerous individual works in the labours of each species, seizes +their points of difference, and soon arrives at the conclusion which +logic had already suggested,--that, in truth, _no one thing resembles +another_. In those works which appear identical to inexperienced eyes, +a Wilson and an Audubon have detected the diversities of an art very +variable--according to means and places, according to the characters +and talents of the artists--in a spontaneous infinity. So extensive is +the region of liberty, fancy, and _ingegno_. + +Let us hope that our collections will bring together several specimens +of each species, arranged and classified according to the talent and +progress of the individual, recording as near as may be the age of the +birds which constructed the nests. + +If these boundless diversities do not result from unrestrained activity +and personal spontaneity, if you wish to refer them all to an identical +instinct, you must, to support so miraculous a theory, make us believe +another miracle: that this instinct, although identical, possesses the +singular elasticity of accommodating and proportioning itself to a +variety of circumstances which are incessantly changing, to an infinity +of hazardous chances. + +What, then, will be the case if we find, in the history of animals, +such an act of pretended instinct as supposes a resistance to that very +course our instinctive nature would apparently desire? What will you +say to the wounded elephant spoken of by Fouché d'Obsonville? + +That judicious traveller, so utterly disinclined to romantic +tendencies, saw an elephant in India, which, having been wounded in +battle, went daily to the hospital that his wound might be dressed. +Now, guess what this wound might be. A burn. In this dangerous Indian +climate, where everything grows putrid, they are frequently constrained +to cauterize the sores. He endured this treatment patiently, and went +every day to undergo it. He felt no antipathy towards the surgeon +who inflicted upon him so sharp an agony. He groaned; nothing more. +He evidently understood that it was done for his benefit; that his +torturer was his friend; that this necessary cruelty was designed for +his cure. + +Plainly this elephant acted upon reflection, and upon a blind instinct; +he acted against nature in the strength and enlightenment of his will. + + [Illustration] + +Page 270. _The master-nightingale._--I owe this anecdote to a lady well +entitled to a judgment upon such questions--to Madame Garcia Viardot +(the great singer). The Russian peasants, who possess a fine ear and a +keen sensibility for Nature (compared with her harshness towards them), +said, when they occasionally heard the Spanish _cantatrice_: "The +nightingale does not sing so well." + + [Illustration] + +Page 273. _Still the little one hesitates, &c._--"One day I was walking +with my son in the neighbourhood of Montier. We perceived towards the +north, on the Little Salève, an eagle emerging from the windings of +the rocks. When he was tolerably near the Great Salève he halted, and +two eaglets, which he had carried on his back, attempted to fly, at +first very close to their teacher, and in narrow circles; then, a few +minutes afterwards, feeling fatigued, they returned to rest upon his +back. Gradually their essays were protracted, and at the close of the +lesson the eaglets effected some much more important flights, still +under the eyes of their teacher of gymnastics. After about an hour's +occupation the two scholars resumed their post on the paternal back, +and the eagle returned to the rock from which he had started." (M. +Chenvières, of Geneva.) + + [Illustration] + +Page 304. _The small Chili falcon_ (cernicula).--I extract this +statement from a new, curious, but little known work, written in French +by a Chilian: _Le Chili_, by B. Vicuna Mackenna (ed. 1855, p. 100). +Chili I take to be a most interesting country, which, by the energy +of its citizens, should considerably modify the unfavourable opinion +entertained by the citizens of the United States in reference to South +Americans. America will not exist as a world, so long as a common +feeling shall be wanting between the two opposite poles which ought to +create her majestic harmony. + + [Illustration] + +_Final Note on the Winged Life._--To appreciate beings so alien from +the conditions of our prosaic existence, we must for a moment abandon +earth, and become a sense apart. We get a glimpse of something inferior +and superior, of something on this side and on that, the limbs of the +animal life on the borders of the life of the angels. In proportion as +we assume this sense, we lose the temptation of degrading the winged +life--that strange, delicate, mighty dream of God--to the vulgarities +of earth. + +To-day even, in a place infinitely unpoetic, neglected, squalid, and +obscure, among the black mud of Paris, and in the dank darkness of an +apartment scarcely better than a cavern, I saw, and I heard chirping, +in a subdued voice, a little creature which seemed not to belong to +this low world. It was a warbler, and one of a common species--not the +blackcap, which is prized so highly for his song. This one was not then +singing; she chattered to herself, just a few notes, as monotonous as +her situation. For winter, shadow, captivity, all were around her. The +captive of a rough, rude man, of a speculator in birds, she heard on +every side sounds which silenced her song; powerful voices were above +her head, a mocking-bird among them, which rang out every moment their +brilliant clarions. Generally, she would be condemned to silence. She +was accustomed, one could perceive, to sing in a low tone. But in +this limited flight, this habitual resignation and half lamentation, +might be detected a charming delicacy, a more than feminine softness +(_morbidezza_). Add to this the unique grace of her bosom and her +motions, of her modest red and white attire, which sparkled, however, +with a bright sheeny reflex. + +I recalled to my mind the pictures in which Ingres and Delacroix have +shown us the captives of Algiers or the East, and exactly depicted the +dull resignation, the indifference, the weariness of their monotonous +lives, and also the decline (must we say the extinction?) of the inner +fire. + +But, alas! it was wholly different here. The flame burned in all +its strength. She was more and less than a woman. No comparison was +of any use. Inferior by right of her animal nature, by her pretty +bird-masquerade, she was lifted above by her wings, and by the winged +soul which sang in that little body. An all-powerful _alibi_ held her +enthralled afar off, in her native grove, in the nest whence she had +been stolen in her infancy, or in her future love-nest. She warbled +five or six notes, and they kindled my very soul; I myself, for the +moment armed with wings, accompanied her in her distant dream. + + [Illustration] + +FOOTNOTES: + +[1] The book referred to was the "Études de la +Nature."--_Translator._ + +[2] Dittany was formerly much used as a cordial and +sedative.--_Translator._ + +[3] Jean Baptiste de Monet, Chevalier de Lamarck, was born August +1, 1744; died December 20, 1829. His chief work is his "History of +Invertebrate Animals."--Etienne Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire was born in +1772, and died in 1844. He expounds his theory of natural history in +the "Philosophie Anatomique," 2 vols., 1818-20.--_Translator._ + +[4] Alphonse Toussenel, an illustrious French _littérateur_, born in +1803. The first edition of his "Le Monde des Oiseaux, Ornithologie +Passionelle," was published in 1852.--_Translator._ + +[5] The frigate bird, or man-of-war bird (_Trachypetes +aquila_).--_Translator._ + +[6] Alluding to a popular superstition, which Béranger has made the +subject of a fine lyric:-- + + "What means the fall of yonder star, + Which falls, falls, and fades away?... + My son, whene'er a mortal dies, + Earthward his star drops instantly."--_Translator._ + + +[7] It was with this exordium Toussaint commenced his appeal to +Napoleon Bonaparte. + +[8] Napoleon's treatment of Toussaint L'Ouverture is one of the darkest +spots on his fame. He flung this son of the Tropics into a dungeon +among the icy fastnesses of the Alps, where he died, slain by cold and +undeserved ill-treatment, on the 27th of April 1803.--_Translator._ + +[9] There are two lights, of which the more elevated is 396 feet above +the sea-level.--_Translator._ + +[10] La Hève is the ancient Caletorum Promontorium, and situated about +three miles north-west of Havre.--_Translator._ + +[11] That the reader may feel the full force of this passage, I subjoin +the original: "Nous n'en vivions pas moins d'un grand souffle d'âme, de +la rajeunissante haleine de cette mère aimée, la Nature." + +[12] Compare the interesting descriptions of the huge dams erected by +beavers across the American rivers, in Milton and Cheadle's valuable +narrative of travel, "The North-West Passage by Land."--_Translator._ + +[13] The reader will hardly require to be reminded of the poet Cowper +and his hares.--_Translator._ + +[14] Family _Trochilidæ_. + +[15] Felix de Azara was an eminent Spanish traveller, who died at +Arragon in 1811. He acted as one of the commissioners appointed to +trace the boundary-line between the Spanish and Portuguese possessions +in the New World. His researches in Paraguay made many valuable +contributions to natural history.--_Translator._ + +[16] Lesson was a French traveller of repute; but his works are little +known beyond the limits of his own country.--_Translator._ + +[17] François Levaillant was born at Paramaribo in Dutch Guiana, in +1753. Passionately fond of natural history, and scarcely less fond of +travel, he gratified both passions in 1780 by undertaking a series +of explorations in Southern Africa. His last journey extended a +little beyond the tropic of Capricorn. He returned to Europe in 1784, +published several valuable works of travel and zoology, and died in +1824.--_Translator._ + +[18] The unfortunate navigator, Jean François de Calaup, Comte de La +Perouse, was born in 1741. At an early age he entered the French navy, +rose to a high grade, and distinguished himself by his services against +the English in North America. In 1783 he was appointed to command an +expedition of discovery, and on the 1st of August 1785, sailed from +Brest with two frigates, the _Boussole_ and the _Astrolabe_. He reached +Botany Bay in January 1788, and thenceforward was no more heard of +for years. Several vessels were despatched to ascertain his fate, but +could obtain no clue to it. In 1826, however, Captain Dillon, while +sailing amongst the Queen Charlotte Islands, discovered at Wanicoro +the remains of the shipwrecked vessels. A mausoleum and obelisk to the +memory of their unfortunate commander was erected on the island in +1828.--_Translator._ + +[19] Mungo Park, the illustrious African traveller (born near Selkirk +in 1771), perished on his second expedition to the Niger towards +the close of the year 1805. No exact information of his fate has +been obtained, but from the evidence collected by Clapperton and +Lander, it seems probable that he was drowned in attempting to +navigate a narrow channel of the river in the territory of Houssa. +Another account, however, represents him to have been murdered by the +natives.--_Translator._ + +[20] See Virgil, "Georgics." + +[21] Alexander Wilson, the eminent ornithologist, was born at Paisley +in 1766. He was bred a weaver, but emigrating to the United States in +1794, found means to pursue the studies for which he had a natural +bias, and in which he earned an enduring reputation. The first volume +of his "American Ornithology" was published in 1808. He died of +dysentery, in August 1813.--_Translator._ + +[22] We subjoin Dryden's version of the above passage ("_Georgics_," +Book I.):-- + + "Wet weather seldom hurts the most unwise, + So plain the signs, such prophets are the skies: + The wary crane foresees it first, and sails + Above the storm, and leaves the lowly vales; + The cow looks up, and from afar can find + The change of heaven, and snuffs it in the wind. + The swallow skims the river's watery face, + The frogs renew the croaks of their loquacious race.... + Besides, the several sorts of watery fowls, + That swim the seas, or haunt the standing pools; + The swans that sail along the silver flood, + And dive with stretching necks to search their food, + Then lave their back with sprinkling dews in vain, + And stem the stream to meet the promised rain. + The crow, with clamorous cries, the shower demands, + And single stalks along the desert sands. + The nightly virgin, while her wheel she plies, + Foresees the storm impending in the skies. + When sparkling lamps their sputtering light advance, + And in the sockets oily bubbles dance. + + "Then, after showers, 'tis easy to descry, + Returning suns, and a serener sky; + The stars shine smarter, and the moon adorns, + As with unborrowed beams, her sharpened horns; + The filmy gossamer now flits no more, + Nor halcyons bask on the short sunny shore: + Their litter is not tossed by sows unclean, + But a blue draughty mist descends upon the plain. + And owls, that mark the setting sun, declare + A star-light evening, and a morning fair.... + Then thrice the ravens rend the liquid air, + And croaking notes proclaim the settled fair. + Then, round their airy palaces they fly + To greet the sun: and seized with secret joy, + When storms are over-blown, with food repair + To their forsaken nests, and callow care." + + +[23] The favourite haunt of Jean Jacques Rousseau, on the bank of Lake +Leman. + +[24] This was written before the annexation of Lombardy to the new +Italian kingdom. + +[25] It is unnecessary to remind the reader that this is true only of +_French_ poets.--_Translator._ + +[26] The reader must not identify the translator with these opinions, +which, however, he did not feel at liberty to modify or omit. + +[27] Everybody knows the beautiful story of the "Musician's Duel"--the +rivalry between a nightingale and a flute-player--as told by Ford and +Crashaw.--_Translator._ + +[28] Our author refers to the discovery of the anæsthetic +properties of ether by an American. It was a surgeon of old Europe, +however, that gave the world the far more powerful anæsthetic of +_chloroform_.--_Translator._ + +[29] Compare Byron, in "Don Juan." + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Bird, by Jules Michelet + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 43341 *** |