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diff --git a/43341-8.txt b/43341-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 3e95788..0000000 --- a/43341-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8683 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Bird, by Jules Michelet - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: The Bird - -Author: Jules Michelet - -Illustrator: Hector Giacomelli - -Release Date: July 28, 2013 [EBook #43341] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BIRD *** - - - - -Produced by Chris Curnow, Sonya Schermann and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - -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 THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BIRD *** - -***** This file should be named 43341-8.txt or 43341-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/3/3/4/43341/ - -Produced by Chris Curnow, Sonya Schermann and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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