The Ornithology of Shakespeare Part 40

_King Lear_, Act iv. Sc. 6.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER IX.

VARIOUS BIRDS NOT INCLUDED IN THE FOREGOING CHAPTERS.

Notwithstanding the comprehensive t.i.tles of the preceding chapters, there are several birds mentioned by Shakespeare which cannot, with propriety, be included in any of them. We have, therefore, deemed it advisable to notice them separately under the above heading.

Naturalists have frequently remarked upon the propensity which some birds have to become restless and noisy before rain. Familiar examples are, the Peac.o.c.k; the Green Woodp.e.c.k.e.r, which, on this account, in some parts of the country, is called "rain-bird;" the Golden Plover, whose Latin and French name, _Pluvialis_ and _Pluvier_, have reference to the same peculiarity; and the Woodc.o.c.k, which, as Gilbert White says, has been observed "to be remarkably listless against snowy, foul weather."

Shakespeare has noticed this peculiarity in the Parrot:--

"More clamorous than a parrot against rain."--_As You Like It_, Act iv. Sc. 1.

[Sidenote: THE PARROT.]

It is not quite clear when parrots were first introduced as cage birds, but their attractive colours, and apt.i.tude for learning tricks and words, no doubt brought them into notice at an early period. Shakespeare knew that to ensure success in teaching a parrot, the bird must be rewarded:--

"The parrot will not do more for an almond."--_Troilus and Cressida_, Act v. Sc. 2.

To talk "like a parrot," that is, without reason, is proverbial.

Lieutenant Ca.s.sio thus upbraids himself after a drunken squabble:--

"I will rather sue to be despised than to deceive so good a commander with so slight, so drunken, and so discreet an officer.

Drunk? and _speak parrot_? and squabble? swagger? swear and discourse fustian with one's own shadow? Oh, thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee devil!"--_Oth.e.l.lo_, Act ii. Sc. 3.

[Sidenote: A PARROT-TEACHER.]

In a witty scene between Beatrice and Bened.i.c.k, in _Much Ado about Nothing_, the former is likened by the latter to "_a parrot-teacher_,"

from her great talkative powers:--

"_Bened._ But it is certain I am loved of all ladies, only you excepted: and I would I could find in my heart that I had not a hard heart, for truly I love now.

_Beat._ A dear happiness to women; they would else have been troubled with a pernicious suitor. I thank G.o.d, and my cold blood, I am of your humour for that; I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me.

_Bened._ G.o.d keep your ladys.h.i.+p still in that mind! so some gentleman or other shall 'scape a predestinate scratched face.

_Beat._ Scratching could not make it worse, an 'twere such a face as yours were.

_Bened._ Well, you are a rare _parrot-teacher_.[160]

_Beat._ A bird of my tongue is better than a beast of yours.

_Bened._ I would my horse had the speed of your tongue, and so good a continuer: but keep your way, o' G.o.d's name! I have done.

_Beat._ You always end with a jade's trick: I know you of old."

[Whereupon Don Pedro steps in and puts an end to this bantering.]

_Much Ado about Nothing_, Act i. Sc. 1.

The "Popinjay" (_Henry IV._ Part I. Act i. Sc. 3) apparently is only another name for parrot.

In the Glossary to Chaucer's Works we find the word thus explained:--"_Popingay_, a parrot; _Papegaut_, Fr.; _Papegaey_, Belg.; _Papagallo_, Ital."

In the Privy Purse expenses of King Henry VIII. the following entry occurs under date November, 1532:--

"Itm~.--The laste daye paied in rewarde to a woman that wolde have gyven a popingay to the King's grace x s~."

[Sidenote: THE STARLING.]

The practice of turning to advantage the capability which certain birds possess for learning to utter words must be of some antiquity, for Pliny alludes to the starlings which were trained for the amus.e.m.e.nt of the young Caesars, as being capable of uttering both Latin and Greek.

Shakespeare thus refers to the starling's talking powers:--

"_Hotspur._ He said, he would not ransom Mortimer; Forbade my tongue to speak of Mortimer; But I will find him when he lies asleep, And in his ear I'll holloa, '_Mortimer!_'

Nay, I'll have a _starling_ shall be taught to speak Nothing but 'Mortimer,' and give it him, To keep his anger still in motion."

_Henry IV._ Part I. Act i. Sc. 3.

It is stated that when M. Girardin visited his friend M. Thirel in Paris, he was agreeably astonished at hearing a starling articulate a dozen consecutive sentences with the same precision as if they had been spoken by some person in the next room; and when the bell rang for ma.s.s, the same bird called to its mistress, by name, "Mademoiselle, entendez-vous la messe que l'on sonne? Prenez votre livre et revenez vite, donner a manger a votre polisson." If this statement can be depended upon, M. Girardin might well have been astonished.

[Sidenote: THE KINGFISHER.]

It was formerly believed that during the time the Halcyon or Kingfisher was engaged in hatching her eggs, the water, in kindness to her, remained so smooth and calm, that the mariner might venture on the sea with the happy certainty of not being exposed to storms or tempests; this period was therefore called, by Pliny and Aristotle, "the halcyon days."

"Expect Saint Martin's[161] summer, _halcyon_ days."

_Henry VI._ Part I. Act i. Sc. 2.

It was also supposed that the dead bird, carefully balanced and suspended by a single thread, would always turn its beak towards that point of the compa.s.s from which the wind blew.

Kent, in _King Lear_ (Act II. Sc. 2), speaks of rogues who--

"Turn their _halcyon_ beaks With every gale and vary of their masters."

And, after Shakespeare, Marlowe, in his _Jew of Malta_, says,--

"But how now stands the wind?

Into what corner peers my _halcyon's_ bill?"