[Illustration]
Motacilla Luscinia, LINNÆUS; Le Rossignol, BUFFON; Die
Nachtigall, BECHSTEIN.
This bird, whose plumage is very ordinary, is scarcely five inches long,
two and a half of which belong to the tail. But, in confinement, when it
is well fed, and especially when it has been bred from the nest, it is
commonly larger, reaching sometimes the size of a lark. The straight
beak is seven lines in length, thin, with the two mandibles of nearly
the same size, and dark brown above, light gray below, flesh-coloured at
the base, and yellow within; the iris is brownish grey. The shanks,
three quarters of an inch high, are flesh-coloured; the upper part of
the body is brownish gray, tinted with rust-red, and in very old birds
is reddish ash-coloured.
Among individuals in confinement, some are lighter, others darker. When
placed in the windows of a large well-lighted room, which is not exposed
to smoke, they are in the upper parts dark gray, or light brownish gray,
and the feathers have a reddish edge; below they are white, and grayish
on the sides. But those which are shut up in small ill-lighted rooms,
subject to smoke, soon lose their colours, the upper part of the body
becoming dingy red, the under part grayish white, and the sides brownish
gray.
Those accustomed to birds distinguish the female at a glance. Her shanks
are not so high: she is not so erect; her head is not so long and
pointed, but rounder; her neck is shorter, and more inclined back; her
eye is smaller and less lively; and her throat is not so white.
Notwithstanding these characteristics, no other than an experienced
person could decide the sex unless he had them both before him.
Nightingales so strongly resemble the female redstart, that the latter
is often caught and sold for a nightingale, while the nightingale in its
turn is killed and eaten for a redstart. To avoid mistakes, we must
observe the following particulars:--The female redstart is always
smaller, and her plumage darker: her small feet and beak are blackish;
the red of her tail is lighter, and the two middle feathers are
blackish, or very dark brown; this long slender tail is in continual
motion, while the nightingale moves his only at intervals, for example,
when he has hopped a few steps, and he generally carries it raised
higher than the point of his wings. His step and attitude are prouder,
and his actions seem more deliberate. When he walks, it is by measured
regular hops. After a certain number he stops, looks at himself, shakes
his wings, raises his tail gracefully, spreads it a little, stoops his
head several times, raises his tail again, and proceeds. If any object
attracts his attention, he bends his head towards it, and generally
looks at it with only one eye. It is true that he jumps hastily upon the
insects which constitute his food; but he does not seize them so eagerly
as other birds; on the contrary, he stops short, and seems to deliberate
whether it is prudent to eat them or not. Generally he has a serious
circumspect air, but his foresight is not proportioned to it, for he
falls readily into all the snares which are laid for him. If he once
escapes, however, he is not so easily caught again, and becomes as
cunning as any other bird. The same, indeed, may be said of all birds
pursued by man. Nightingales are called, in my opinion very unjustly,
silly and curious; for a great number of new things may be offered them
without exciting the least attention; but scratch or dig the earth, and
they approach directly, because instinct or experience tells them that
they shall there find insects, which they are very fond of. Many other
species of this group do the same thing; for instance, the blackcap and
the red-breast, without its having been mentioned. These birds do not,
however, deserve so much of our attention as the nightingale.
HABITATION.--When wild, nightingales are found throughout Europe, as
far as the north of England and the middle of Sweden: in all Asia, as
far as the temperate regions of Siberia; and in Africa on the banks
of the Nile. They every where choose for their residence places which
are shady, cool, but not cold, such as woods, thickets, and even mere
hedges in the fields. They do not go beyond the skirts of the forests
on high chains of mountains, and never stop on elevations where the
air is too keen. Groves, thick brambles, tufted bushes near fields
and meadows, are their favourite abodes. They also like gardens
planted with untrimmed elm-hedges, which are consequently thick and
bushy down to the ground. It is not true that they like watery
situations, and if they frequent them it is not for the water, but
because they generally produce thick tufted bushes. It must also be
owned that their favourite food is more constantly abundant in such
places, and if the cold destroys the insects elsewhere, plenty may
always be found in them. It is not however the less certain that the
water is not the attraction, or all would repair to its vicinity,
which experience contradicts. The fact is, that each nightingale
generally establishes himself in the place which gave him birth,
whether near the water or not, whether in an orchard or on a
mountain; and when once he has fixed on a spot, he returns to it
every year, unless the place has lost its charm or advantage. If the
wood for instance has been cut down, or has lost the thick shade,
which was its chief merit, in such circumstances he seeks in the
neighbourhood another spot more to his liking. But if, in a
considerable circuit where no change has taken place, a nightingale
is seen to establish himself in a spot which was unoccupied the
preceding year, it may be concluded that it is a young bird which was
born in the vicinity. Convenient places are so much valued, that if
the possessors die or are caught, new comers seize upon them
immediately; so that the bird which we hear to-day, is very possibly
not the same which sang yesterday in the same place. Many other
causes may also concur in producing this change of inhabitants, which
an ear well versed in the language of these birds will always
discover.
It may, perhaps, be asked why, in many places which appear so well
adapted to attract nightingales, none are found[73]. I reply that
these spots may be concealed by woods or mountains, and not lie
perceived by the nightingales in their journeys, or they may be quite
out of their route, for they have a regular one which they never
quit, because, their progress being slow, and subject to
interruptions, it is requisite that they should find on their passage
every thing necessary for their subsistence, and too cold an
atmosphere is painful to them. It may also happen that the
nightingales which formerly frequented them, may have been altogether
extirpated; and as it has been said that the young always establish
themselves in the district which gave them birth, it is by no means
surprising that they should not be chosen, at least there are many
chances against it. Rather than wait in vain for this chance, there
is a means of re-peopling such places with these charming birds. It
is only necessary to bring up some broods of young ones, and not let
them loose in the following spring till after the period of return is
elapsed; because being no longer excited by the instinct which
induces them to travel, and the instinct itself being subdued in a
great measure by their imprisoned education, they will not wander,
but will remain and propagate, provided they are not disturbed, and
will return the year following with all their family. I must not omit
to say that the young intended for this re-peopling must not be
confined in a cage, as they would lose the use of their wings, and
run the risk of perishing the first day of their liberation. As soon
as they can feed themselves, they must be allowed an entire room, in
which they may fly freely, and grow strong and bold. A sort of grove
should be formed of branches or small trees, and nature should be
imitated as much as possible also in feeding them, by throwing to
them more insects and ants' eggs than usual, to accustom them to seek
for them.
The period of the nightingale's return throughout the greater part of
Germany, is the middle of April, rarely either earlier or later[74]:
it is always when the white-thorn begins to expand its leaves.
Advancing slowly and gradually, these birds are not so likely to
suffer from bad weather as those which go straight to their
destination by one stage. In the middle of August each family
prepares to depart; this is done quietly, removing gradually, and
passing from grove to grove to the end of their journey; then it is
that these birds are caught with nooses or springes, by using
elderberries or currants for a bait. The middle of September is the
latest period at which they are seen in Germany. All then disappear
imperceptibly, so that the time they employ in the rest of their
journey is altogether unknown. Other birds, whose instinct leads them
to travel in large flights, do not so easily escape observation. If
by accident a nightingale is met with at the end of September, or in
October, it must have been delayed by some peculiar circumstance; for
instance, it may be a young one that has lost its way, or that was
hatched late, or it may be an invalid.
In confinement nightingales may be allowed to fly freely, as I have
often permitted them; but they do not then sing so well as when in a
cage, where they are less subject to interruptions, and where also
they live longer and more healthily, from being fed with more care
and regularity. The nightingale's cage, of whatever form, must not be
less than a foot and a half in length, by about one in width, and one
or more in height. The top should be made of linen or soft stuff,
that when jumping and struggling, especially when first caught, he
may not injure his head. The drinking-cup and feeding-trough are
fastened on the outside, unless it is preferred to introduce the
latter within, in the form of a drawer. The following are the best
form and proportions for a nightingale's cage, that I am acquainted
with:--Length, one foot and a half; breadth, eight inches; height,
fifteen inches in the middle; thirteen at the sides, because the roof
is arched. The sides are made of osiers about a quarter of an inch
thick; the bottom is made of the same material, but it is covered by
a drawer an inch and a quarter in depth. In order to clean it more
easily, I cover it with coarse paper, which I renew every time. The
feeding-trough is introduced on one side, with edges high enough to
prevent the bird's spilling too much of the food. In the middle of
the front of the cage, and extending from top to bottom, is a
cylindrical projection in the form of a belfry, in which is suspended
a large drinking-glass. The upper stick of the cage is confined here,
terminating in a fork, or fixed to a semi-circle, that the projection
may not be prevented from moving. This projection is made of osiers,
like the rest of the cage. The middle and lower sticks are covered
with green cloth, firmly sewed on, that the nightingale may have a
softer perch, and not have his feet so soon injured, which is very
common with imprisoned birds. The arched roof is also covered with
green stuff, which is painted that colour with oil paint, as well as
the whole of the cage. But it must be well dried, and quite free from
smell before the bird is put into it.
My reasons for preferring this cage are, first, because being small,
it occupies less room, without disadvantage to the bird or to the
apartment; second, because the size of the osiers leave small
intervals for the admission of light, and it is consequently darker;
third, because the bird can bathe without wetting his cage or his
perches: and consequently his feet remain cleaner and more healthy.
As to the situation of the cage, the prisoner's taste must be
consulted. Some nightingales dislike being in the window, and prefer
a dark corner of the room; others like the light and the sun. If it
is wished that a nightingale should sing everywhere, it is necessary,
when he is moulting, and before he resumes his song, to accustom him
to a change of place, by carrying him sometimes here, sometimes
there. Some will sing only when they are alone, while others like to
perform alternately with a neighbour; but they never sing so loud and
well when there are several in a room. Perhaps jealousy is the chief
cause of this. On these occasions, the first that begins generally
maintains the superiority; the others sing only when he stops, and
this but seldom, and in an under tone. Some are so sulky that they
will not sing at all. Some of these obstinate pouters are
occasionally, from their silence, mistaken for females, and
consequently dismissed from the room, but when they find themselves
alone they begin to sing at full stretch.
FOOD.--When wild nightingales feed on insects, especially little green
caterpillars, of which they clear the bushes and trees, small
butterflies, flies, and beetles, and the grubs of insects hid among
moss or in the earth, which are discovered by turning it up. At their
departure, towards the end of summer, they also eat elderberries and
currants.
In confinement, meal worms and fresh ants' eggs are the first things
which should be offered to birds which are just caught; in place of
these, when it is not possible to procure them, some persons prepare
a mixture of hard eggs, ox heart, and white bread, some mouthfuls of
which they force the birds to swallow, and then throw some meal worms
on the rest, to induce the nightingale to eat it; but this artificial
food is so unfit for these birds, especially at first, that it kills
the greater number. They may also be injured by forcibly opening
their delicate beak. When ants' eggs cannot be procured, it is better
to set the birds at liberty than thus to sacrifice them. Their best
food in summer is ants' eggs, to which are daily added two or three
meal worms[75]; when none of the former remain fresh they must be
supplied by dried or rather roasted ox heart and raw carrot, both
grated, and then mixed with dried ants' eggs[76]. The carrot, which
may be preserved fresh in sand in the cellar, prevents heat in the
stomach and bowels; a little lean beef or mutton minced small may
also be used sometimes; after different trials, it is in this way I
feed my nightingales. The cheapest food is very ripe elderberries,
dried and mixed with ants' eggs, in the same way as the carrots and
white bread.
Some bird-fanciers, in winter, bake a little loaf made of the flour
of peas and eggs, which they grate, moisten, and then mix with dried
ants' eggs; others, who would still be more economical, pound
poppy-seeds in a mortar to express the oil, and then mix them with
the crumb of white bread; when accustomed to it the birds seem very
fond of it, but a proof that it does not agree with them is that they
soon fall into a decline and die. This plan has lately been
introduced into Thuringia; but knowing, as I do from experience, that
the stomach of the nightingale is not formed to digest such food,
since he is not graminivorous, I take care never to administer it;
and I think I ought to warn others against it. The best will always
be the simplest, and that which is most conformable to nature. Those
who adopt that which I have mentioned will have the satisfaction of
finding their nightingales healthy, cheerful, active, and good
singers.
I have already said that I have tried letting them run about the
room, feeding them upon the common universal paste; but this food is
not sufficiently nutritious for them: on this diet they can hardly
pass six months without falling into a decline, and they would
inevitably perish if they were not speedily restored to one which is
fitter for them. They require fresh water every day, as well for
bathing as drinking; they habitually bathe, when caged, after
singing. They have also been observed to do so the first thing in the
evening, when the candles were lighted.
BREEDING.--Each nightingale has his little district; and if in the
pairing season several males are found together, very angry battles
take place, which end in the flight of the weakest. The commonest
quarrels of this kind are between fathers and sons. The latter,
having been born in the place, determine to fix themselves in it; all
feeling of relationship is then extinguished, and they are strangers;
the relations of father and son, those sweet ties, hitherto so close,
are suddenly broken, never more to be felt.
The nest is built in a grove or orchard, among a heap of branches, or
on a thorn bush, or the trunk of a tree surrounded by briars; or even
on the ground when it may be hid by tall grass or thick bushes. Its
form is simple and inartificial, on the outside dry leaves, on the
inside hay, fine roots, with the hair of animals, is all the
apparatus. The female lays from four to six eggs, of a brownish
green, on which she sits a fortnight. The young are fed with small
caterpillars and butterflies. As the low position of the nest exposes
them to become the prey of carnivorous quadrupeds, they soon quit it,
even before they can fly. Their plumage before moulting has no
resemblance to that of the old birds except the red of the tail; the
upper part of the body is of a reddish grey, spotted with yellowish
white on the head and coverts of the wings; the under part is of a
rusty yellow, spotted on the breast with dark brown; but after
moulting the resemblance is so perfect that they can hardly be
distinguished. If, therefore, any of these birds are caught towards
the end of summer, they are carefully examined on the back of the
head, round the eyes, and under the beak and neck, for, provided
there remains in these places a small feather, or mere yellow point,
it is sufficient to ascertain that they are young. As these are the
only means of judging, if no marks appear, it is necessary to wait
for a few days till the bird begins to sing. This, however, is not a
sure sign, as the young females sing as well as the males, till the
month of April, though in a weaker and more unconnected way, and
without so visibly swelling their throats: it is by these nice
observations that connoisseurs succeed in distinguishing them. It may
also be remarked, as a help to those who wish to rear nightingales,
that, when in the nest, those which are marked with white, and
especially those which have a white throat, are males; the reddest
and brownest being always females. The young, when taken, are fed
with ants' eggs mixed with white bread, grated and moistened. The
males begin to warble even before their tails are quite grown: if the
father and mother are taken at the same time as the young ones, they
will, when caged, continue to feed them as before. It is said that
nightingales sometimes build in the bird room; this, however, can
only succeed by giving up to a tame healthy pair a whole room, in
which a sort of grove should be formed of branches.
DISEASES.--In general moulting amounts to a disease among
nightingales: at this critical time they require a more succulent
diet, and sometimes a spider by way of purgative. If their stomach is
disordered they puff up their feathers, half shut their eyes, and
remain for hours with their head under their wing. They are relieved
and cured by ants' eggs, some spiders, and by giving them
occasionally water impregnated with saffron till it is of an orange
colour, to drink.
As to those diseases which they have in common with other birds, they
are treated according to the directions given in the Introduction. It
is especially necessary, every three months, carefully to remove the
large scales from their legs and toes. A nightingale may be kept in
confinement fifteen years; whilst in a wild state they are never
observed to exist so long in the same spot, which seems to prove that
they do not attain so great an age when exposed to all sorts of
accidents, both from birds of prey and bird-catchers. I have an
instance of a nightingale which has lived twenty-five years in
confinement. When they have reached six years they begin to sing less
frequently and long, with less brilliancy and ornament; it is then
better to set them at liberty in the month of May. The open air often
invigorates them so much that they regain their song in all its force
and beauty.
MODE OF TAKING.--Nothing is easier than to catch a nightingale in the
season of pairing. If a little furrow, smooth at the bottom, is dug
in a dark soil, and some meal worms or ants' eggs are thrown into it,
he will immediately fly to these delicacies. By putting also in the
same place limed twigs, or a small net which may be easily dropped,
he will soon be caught; it is even sufficient to fix over the furrow
a bit of wood supported by a stick, which will fall as soon as the
bird perches upon it. He is so unsuspicious that he observes the
snare being laid, and then foolishly falls into it, when the
bird-catcher has moved only a few steps from it; he will even allow
himself to be led to it when at a little distance, if in a gentle
manner. A bird-catcher may thus, in a few hours, depopulate a whole
district of these delightful songsters. If, however, this is feared,
there is a means of baffling his intentions, by anticipating him, and
catching the nightingale we wish to preserve in our neighbourhood,
either by a limed twig or in a net, and letting him go again. This
experiment will prevent his falling so readily into the snare in
future. In the greater part of Germany, indeed, it is forbidden,
under a very heavy penalty, to catch nightingales. Another mode of
taking them is by nooses and springes, and suspending for a bait,
instead of berries, live meal-worms; but there is one disadvantage
attending it, while struggling the bird almost always injures his
feet, especially in springes.
ATTRACTIVE QUALITIES.--The first good quality of a nightingale is
undoubtedly its fine voice, and notes which I shall endeavour to
describe. The nightingale expresses his different emotions by
suitable and particular tones. The most unmeaning cry when he is
alone appears to be a simple whistle _fitt_, but if the syllable
_crr_ is added, it is then the call of the male to the female. The
sign of displeasure or fear is _fitt_ repeated rapidly and loudly
before adding the terminating _crr_; whilst that of satisfaction and
pleasure such, for example, as conjugal endearments, or on the
occasion of finding a delicate morsel, is a deep _tack_, which may be
imitated by smacking the tongue.
In anger, jealousy, rivalry, or any extraordinary event, he utters
hoarse disagreeable sounds, somewhat like a jay or a cat. Lastly, in
the season of pairing, when the male and female entice and pursue
each other, from the top of a tree to its base, and thence again to
the top, a gentle subdued warbling is all that is heard.
Nature has granted these tones to both sexes; but the male is
particularly endowed with so very striking a musical talent, that in
this respect he surpasses all birds, and has acquired the name of the
king of songsters. The strength of his vocal organ is indeed
wonderful; and it has been found that the muscles of his larynx are
much more powerful than those of any other bird. But it is less the
strength than the compass, flexibility, prodigious variety, and
harmony of his voice which make it so admired by all lovers of the
beautiful. Sometimes dwelling for minutes on a strain composed of
only two or three melancholy tones, he begins in an under voice, and
swelling it gradually by the most superb crescendo to the highest
point of strength, he ends it by a dying cadence; or it consists of a
rapid succession of more brilliant sounds, terminated, like many
other strains of his song, by some detached ascending notes.
Twenty-four different strains or couplets may be reckoned in the song
of a fine nightingale, without including its delicate little
variations; for among these, as among other musicians, there are some
great performers and many middling ones. This song is so articulate,
so speaking, that it may be very well written. The following is a
trial which I have made on that of a nightingale in my neighbourhood,
which passes for a very capital singer[77]:--
_Tioû, tioû, tioû, tioû.
Spe, tiou, squa.
Tiô, tiô, tiô, tiô, tio, tio, tio, tix.
Coutio, coutio, coutio, coutio.
Squô, squô, squô, squô.
Tzu, tzu, tzu, tzu, tzu, tzu, tzu, tzu, tzu, tzi.
Corror, tiou, squa, pipiqui.
Zozozozozozozozozozozozo, zirrhading!
Tsissisi, tsissisisisisisisis.
Dzorre, dzorre, dzorre, dzorre, hi.
Tzatu, tzatu, tzatu, tzatu, tzatu, tzatu, tzatu, dzi.
Dlo, dlo, dlo, dlo, dlo, dlo, dlo, dlo, dlo.
Quio, tr rrrrrrrr itz.
Lu, lu, lu, lu, ly, ly, ly, ly, liê, liê, liê, liê[78].
Quio, didl li lulylie.
Hagurr, gurr quipio!
Coui, coui, coui, coui, qui, qui, qui, qui, gai, gui, gui, gui[79]
Goll goll goll goll guia hadadoi.
Couigui, horr, ha diadia dill si!
Hezezezezezezezezezezezezezezezeze couar ho dze hoi.
Quia, quia, quia, quia, quia, quia, quia, quia, ti.
Ki, ki, ki, ïo, ïo, ïo, ioioioio ki.
Lu ly li le lai la leu lo, didl ïo quia.
Kigaigaigaigaigaigaigai guiagaigaigai couior dzio dzio pi._[80]
If we could understand the sense of these words, we should doubtless
discover the expression of the sensations of this delightful
songster. It is true that the nightingales of all countries, the
south as well as the north, appear to sing in the same manner; there
is, however, as has been already observed, so great a difference in
the degree of perfection, that we cannot help acknowledging that one
has a great superiority over another. On points of beauty, however,
where the senses are the judges, each has his peculiar taste. If one
nightingale has the talent of dwelling agreeably on his notes,
another utters his with peculiar brilliancy, a third lengthens out
his strain in a particular manner, and a fourth excels in the
silveriness of his voice. All four may excel in their style, and each
will find his admirer; and, truly, it is very difficult to decide
which merits the palm of victory. There are, however, individuals so
very superior as to unite all the beauties of power and melody; these
are generally birds of the first breed, which, having been hatched
with the necessary powers, in a district well peopled with
nightingales, appropriate what is most striking in the song of each,
whence results this perfect compound, so worthy of our admiration. As
the return of the males in spring always precedes that of the females
by seven or eight days, they are constantly heard to sing before and
after midnight, in order to attract their companions on their journey
during the fine nights. If their wishes are accomplished they then
keep silence during the night, and salute the dawn with their first
accents, which are continued through the day. Some persist in their
first season in singing before and after midnight, whence they have
obtained the name of nocturnal nightingales; but they cannot be
distinguished till after some time, when they are established in
their district, and have the society of their females. After repeated
experiments for many successive years, I think I am authorised in
affirming that the nocturnal and diurnal nightingales form distinct
varieties, which propagate regularly: for if a young bird is taken
from the nest of a night singer, he, in his turn, will sing at the
same hours as his father, not the first year, but certainly in the
following[81]; while, on the other hand, the young of a day
nightingale will never sing in the night, even when it is surrounded
by nocturnal nightingales. I have also remarked that the night
singers prefer mountainous countries, and even mountains themselves,
whilst the others prefer plains, valleys, and the neighbourhood of
water. I will also venture to affirm that all the night singers found
in the plains have strayed from the mountains; thus in my
neighbourhood, inclosed in the first chains of the mountains of
Thuringia, we hear only night singers, and in the plains of Gotha
they know only the day nightingale.
It is a pity that the time for this delightful bird's song should be
so short, that is to say, when wild. It endures hardly three months;
and during this short interval it is not maintained with equal power.
At its first arrival it is the most beautiful, continued, and
impassioned; when the young are hatched, it becomes more rare; the
attentions which they require occupying considerable time. If from
time to time the nightingale's song is heard, it is evident that the
fire which animated it is much weakened. After midsummer all is
ended, nothing is heard but the warbling of the young, which seem to
study their father's song, and try to imitate it. The nightingale
sings much longer in confinement: birds which are caught full grown
sometimes sing from November to Easter; those which are bred from the
nest sing much longer, sometimes as long as seven months; but in
order that they may sing well they must be put under the instruction
of an old nightingale which is a good singer, otherwise they will be
only stammerers, mutilating their natural song, and inserting in a
confused manner tones and passages which they have caught from other
birds. If, however, they have a good instructor, and a good memory,
they imitate perfectly, and often add to their instructor's song some
beauties of their own, as is usual among young birds[82].
I cannot help here mentioning the cruel and disgusting selfishness of
some men, who, in order a little to prolong the song of this
interesting bird, sacrifice to their transient gratification its
eyes, by blinding it, as is done to the lark and the chaffinch.
It is said that a nightingale and a female red-breast running free in
the room will sometimes pair, and produce mules, but I have no
experience on this subject.
I cannot better complete my account of the nightingale's song than by
transcribing the delightful, though somewhat exaggerated picture,
which has been given of it by Buffon. "There is no well organised
man," says he, "to whom the name of the nightingale does not recall
some one of those fine nights in spring, when the sky being clear,
the air calm, all nature silent, and as it were attentive, he has
listened with delight to the song of this chorister of the woods.
Several singing birds may be named whose voices in some respects may
compete with that of the nightingale; the lark, the canary, the
greenfinch, the blackcap, the linnet, the goldfinch, the common
blackbird, the solitary thrush, the American mocking-bird, are all
listened to with pleasure when the nightingale is silent: some have
fine tones, others have their voice as clear as it is soft, others
have as fine flourishes, but there is not one which the nightingale
does not surpass in the complete union of all these different
talents, and in the prodigious variety of his songs; so that the song
of each of the above-named birds is, when taken in its whole extent,
only one couplet of that of the nightingale. The nightingale always
charms, and never copies himself servilely; if he repeats any passage
it is animated with a new accent, embellished by new ornaments. He
succeeds in all styles, he renders all expressions, he seizes all
characters, and he also augments their effect by contrast. If this
Coryphæus of the spring prepares to sing a hymn to nature, he begins
by a timid prelude, by faint uncertain sounds, as if he would try his
instrument and interest his audience; then gaining courage he becomes
gradually animated, warmed, and he soon displays in their plenitude
all the resources of his incomparable organ, brilliant bursts, lively
delicate trills, volleys of notes whose distinctness equals their
volubility; an internal dull murmur, not itself pleasing to the ear,
but very fit to enhance the brilliancy of the agreeable strains,
sudden, brilliant, and rapid runs, articulated with strength, and
even a tasteful ruggedness, plaintive accents, tender cadences;
sounds dwelt on without art, but swelling with sentiment;
enchantingly penetrating notes, the true sighs of voluptuousness and
love, which seem to come from the heart, and make all hearts
palpitate; which produce in all who are not insensible a delightful
emotion, a touching languor. In those impassioned tones are
recognised the language of sentiment which a happy husband addresses
to his beloved partner, and which she alone can inspire; while in
other strains, more surprising perhaps, but less expressive, are
discovered the simple wish of amusing and pleasing her, or of
disputing before her the prize of singing with rivals jealous of his
glory and happiness.
"These different strains are interspersed with pauses which in all
styles of melody concur in producing great effects. We dwell on the
beautiful notes we have just heard, and which still resound in our
ears; we enjoy them the more because the pleasure is more limited,
more exclusive, and undisturbed by new sensations. Soon we expect, we
desire another strain; we hope it may be pleasing; if we are
mistaken, the beauty of what we hear will not leave us room to regret
that which is only delayed, and the interest of hope is maintained
for the strains which will follow. One of the reasons why the song of
the nightingale is so striking, and produces so much effect, is, as
Mr. Barington has well said, because he sings in the night, which is
the most favourable time, and he sings alone, whereby his voice is
heard in all its splendour, and is undisturbed by any other voice. He
eclipses all other birds, adds Mr. Barington, by his soft flute-like
tones, and by the uninterrupted duration of his warble, which lasts
sometimes for twenty seconds. The same observer reckoned in this
warble sixteen different strains, well marked by their first and
last notes, the intermediate notes being tastefully varied by the
bird; and he ascertained that the space filled by the nightingale's
voice is no less than an English mile in diameter, especially when
the air is calm: this equals the compass of the human voice.
"It is surprising that so small a bird, which weighs only half an
ounce, should have such force in the vocal organs. Mr. Hunter has
observed that the muscles of the larynx, or gullet, are stronger in
proportion, in this species, than in any other, and also stronger in
the male which sings, than in the female which does not sing.
"Aristotle, and Pliny after him, say, that the song of the
nightingale lasts in all its strength for fifteen days and fifteen
nights uninterruptedly, at the time that the trees are putting forth
their leaves; this can refer only to wild nightingales, and must not
be taken literally; for these birds are not silent either before or
after the period fixed by Aristotle. It is true they do not continue
to sing with so much ardour and constancy. They generally begin in
the month of April, and do not completely end till the month of June,
about the time of the solstice; but the time when their song
diminishes most, is when the young are hatched, because they are then
occupied in feeding them, and in the order of instincts, that which
tends to the preservation of the species is pre-eminent. Captive
nightingales continue to sing for nine or ten months, and their song
is sustained not only for a longer time, but it is more perfect and
studied. Hence Mr. Barington infers, that in this species, and in
many others, the male does not sing to amuse the female, and enliven
her fatigue when sitting; which appears a very just and probable
inference. Indeed, the female when she sits performs her office from
an instinct, or rather a passion, stronger in her than even the
passion of love; she finds in it an internal satisfaction of which we
can form no idea, but which she appears to feel sensibly, and we
cannot therefore suppose that at such moments she is in any want of
consolation. Since then it is neither from duty nor virtue that the
female sits, neither is it on that account that the male sings:
indeed he does not sing during the second incubation. It is love, and
especially the first season of love, which inspires the song of the
bird; it is in spring that they experience the want both to love and
to sing; it is the males which have most desire, and it is they who
sing the most. They continue to sing during the greater part of the
year if we preserve around them a perpetual spring, which incessantly
renews their ardour, without affording an occasion for extinguishing
it; this happens to caged nightingales, and even, as it has been
already mentioned, to those which have been taken full grown. Some
have been known to begin to sing with all their strength a few hours
after being caught. They must, however, have been insensible of their
loss of liberty at first. They would starve the first seven or eight
days if they were not fed, and would injure their heads against the
top of the cage if their wings were not tied; but at last the passion
for singing prevails, because it is produced by a still deeper
passion.
"The songs of other birds, the sounds of instruments, the tones of a
sweet sonorous voice, excite them much. They run, they approach,
attracted by the sweet sounds; but duets attract them still more
powerfully, which would seem to prove that they are sensible to the
effects of harmony. They do not continue silent auditors, they join
the performance, and use all their efforts to eclipse their rivals,
to surpass all the other voices, and even all other sounds. It is
said that they have been known to drop down dead at the feet of a
person singing. Another has been seen fluttering, swelling his
throat, and uttering an angry warble every time a canary which was
near him, began to sing; he succeeded by his threats in imposing
silence, so true is it, that superiority is not always free from
jealousy. Can it be in consequence of the passion for pre-eminence,
that these birds are so careful to seize every advantage, and that
they prefer singing in a place favourable to sound, or within reach
of an echo?
"All nightingales do not sing equally well. Some are so very inferior
as not to be worth keeping. It has even been thought that the song of
the nightingale is different in different countries. In England,
those who are curious respecting these birds, prefer, it is said,
those of the county of Surrey, to those of Middlesex; as they prefer
the greenfinch of Essex, and the goldfinch of Kent. This diversity of
song among birds of the same species has very rationally been
compared to the different dialects of the same language. The true
causes can hardly be assigned, as they are for the most part
accidental. A nightingale may perhaps have heard other singing birds,
or emulation may have caused him to perfect his song, which he thus
transmits improved to his descendants, for every father is the
singing master of his family; and it is easy to perceive that in
succeeding generations the song may be still further improved or
modified by similar accidents.
"After the month of June, the nightingale sings no more, and he
retains only a hoarse cry, a sort of croaking, by which the melodious
Philomel cannot be recognised, and it is not surprising that
formerly, in Italy, they gave him a different name under these
circumstances. He is indeed another bird, a bird altogether different
in respect of voice, and even, in a great degree, in respect of the
colour of his plumage.
"Among nightingales, as well as other species, some females are found
participating in the constitution of the male, his habits, and
especially in his musical powers. I have seen, in confinement, one of
these female singers. Her warble resembled that of the male, but was
neither so strong nor so varied. She preserved it till spring; but
then subduing the exercise of her talent to the natural duties of her
sex, she became silent, in order to build her nest, and to lay,
though she was solitary. It appears that, in warm countries, such as
Greece, it is very common to see these female singers, and respecting
this species and many others we may draw the same inference from a
passage of Aristotle. One would hardly imagine that so varied a song
as that of the nightingale is confined within a single octave; this
is, however, the result of the attentive observations of a man of
taste (M. le docteur Remond). He remarked, indeed, some sharp tones
which formed the double octave, and which were emitted like
lightning; but this happens rarely, and when the bird by a powerful
effort of the gullet raises his voice to the octave.
"The same observer discovered shakes on the third, fourth, and
octave, but always from sharp to flat; cadences, generally in the
minor, on almost every note; but no arpeggios, no coherent design."
Independent of these talents, the nightingale possesses a quality
very likely to augment the number of his friends; he is capable,
after some time, of forming attachments. When once he has made
acquaintance with the person who takes care of him, he distinguishes
his step before seeing him; he welcomes him by a cry of joy; and,
during the moulting season, he is seen making vain efforts to sing,
and supplying by the gaiety of his movements, and the expression of
his looks, the demonstrations of joy which his throat refuses to
utter. When he loses his benefactor, he sometimes pines to death; if
he survives it is long before he is accustomed to another[83]. His
attachments are long, because they are not hasty, as is the case with
all wild and timid dispositions.