_EMBLEMS FROM FACTS IN NATURE, AND FROM THE PROPERTIES OF ANIMALS._
EMBLEM writers make the _Natural_, one of the divisions of their
subject, and understand by it, in Whitney’s words, the expressing of the
natures of creatures, for example, “the loue of the yonge Storkes to the
oulde, or of such like.” We shall extend a little the application of the
term, taking in some facts of nature, as well as the natural properties
and qualities of animals, but reserving in a great degree the Poetry,
with which certain natural things are invested, for the next general
heading, “Emblems for Poetic Ideas.”
There is no need to reproduce the Device of Prometheus bound, but simply
to refer to it, and to note the allusions which Shakespeare makes to the
mountain where the dire penalty was inflicted, “the frosty Caucasus.”
From the _Titus Andronicus_ we have already (p. 268) spoken of Tamora’s
infatuated love,—
“faster bound to Aaron’s charming eyes
Than is Prometheus ty’d on Caucasus.”
John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, endeavours, in _Richard II._ (act i.
sc. 3, lines 275, 294, vol. iv. pp. 130, 131), to reconcile his son
Henry Bolingbroke to the banishment which was decreed against him, and
urges,—
“All places that the eye of heaven visits
Are to a wise man ports and happy havens.
Teach thy necessity to reason thus;
There is no virtue like necessity.
Think not the king did banish thee,
But thou the king.”
Bolingbroke,however, replies,—
“O, who can hold a fire in his hand
By thinking on the frosty Caucasus?”
The indestructibility of adamant by force or fire had for ages been a
received truth.
QVEM NVLLA PERICVLA, TERRENT.
[Illustration: _Le Bey de Batilly, 1596._]
“Whom no dangers terrify,” is a fitting motto for the Emblem that
pertains to such as fear nor force nor fire.
Speaking of the precious gem that figures forth their character, it is
the remark of Lebeus-Batillius (Emb. 29), “Duritia ineharrabilis est,
simulque ignium victrix naturâ & nunquam incalescens,”—for which we
obtain a good English expression from Holland’s _Pliny_ (bk. xxxvii. c.
4): “Wonderfull and inenarrable is the _hardnesse_ of a _diamant_;
besides it hath a nature to conquer the fury of fire, nay, you shall
never make it hote.”
The Latin stanzas in illustration close with the lines,—
“_Qualis, non Adamas ullo contunditur ictu,
Vique sua ferri duritium superat._”
[Sidenote: _i.e._]
“As by no blow the Adamant is crushed,
And by its own force overcomes the hardness of iron.”
When the great Talbot was released from imprisonment (_1 Henry VI._, act
i. sc. 4, l. 49, vol. v. p. 20), his companions-in-arms on welcoming him
back, inquired, “How wert thou entertained?” (l. 39)—
“With scoffs and scorns and contumelious taunts.
. . . . . . . .
In iron walls they deem’d me not secure;
So great fear of my name ’mongst them was spread
That they supposed I could rend bars of steel
And spurn in pieces posts of adamant.”
The strong natural affection of the bear for its young obtained record
nearly three thousand years ago (_2 Samuel_ xvii. 8),—“mighty men,
chafed in their minds” are spoken of “as a bear robbed of her whelps in
the field.”[153] Emblems delineated by Boissard and engraved by Theodore
De Bry in 1596, at Emb. 43 present the bear licking her whelp, in sign
that the inborn force of nature is to be brought into form and
comeliness by instruction and good learning. At a little later period,
the “TRONVS CVPIDINIS,” or “EMBLEMATA AMATORIA” (fol. 2), so beautifully
adorned by Crispin de Passe, adopts the sentiment, _Perpolit incultum
paulatim tempus amorem_,—that “by degrees time puts the finish, or
perfectness to uncultivated love.” The device by which this is shown
introduces a Cupid as well as the bear and her young one,—
[Illustration: _De Passe, 1596._]
and is accompanied by Latin and French stanzas,—
_“Vrsa novum fertur lambendo fingere fœtum
Paulatim & formam, quæ decet, ore dare;
Sic dominam, vt valde sic cruda sit aspera Amator
Blanditiis sensim mollet & obsequio._”
_Peu à peu._
“Ceste masse de chair, que toute ourse faonne
En la leschant se forme à son commencement.
Par seruir: par flatter, par complaire en aymant,
L’amour rude à l’abord, à la fin se façonne.”
The sentiment of these lines finds a parallel in the _Midsummer Night’s
Dream_ (act i. sc. 1. l. 232, vol. ii. p. 206),—
“Things base and vile, holding no quantity,
Love can transpose to form and dignity:
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind;
And therefore is wing’d Cupid painted blind.”
Perchance, too, it receives illustration from the praise accorded to the
young Dumain by Katharine, in _Love’s Labour’s Lost_ (act ii. sc. 1, l.
56, vol. ii. p. 114),—
“A well accomplish’d youth,
Of all that virtue love for virtue loved:
Most power to do most harm, least knowing ill;
For he hath wit to make an ill shape good,
And shape to win grace, though he had no wit.”
To the denial of natural affection towards himself Gloucester (_3 Henry
VI_., act iii. sc. 2, l. 153, vol. v. p. 284) deemed it almost a thing
impossible for him to “make his heaven in a lady’s lap,”—
“Why, love forswore me in my mother’s womb:
And, for I should not deal in her soft laws,
She did corrupt frail nature with some bribe,
To shrink mine arm up like a wither’d shrub;
To make an envious mountain on my back,
Where sits deformity to mock my body;
To shape my legs of an unequal size;
To disproportion me in every part.
Like to a chaos, or an unlick’d bear-whelp
That carries no impression like the dam.”
Curious it is to note how slowly the continent which Columbus discovered
became fully recognised as an integral portion of what had been
denominated, ἡ οἰκουμένη,—“the inhabited world.” The rotundity of the
earth and of the water was acknowledged, but Brucioli’s “TRATTATO DELLA
SPHERA,” published at Venice, D.M.XLIII., maintains that the earth is
immovable and the centre of the universe; and in dividing the globe into
climates, it does not take a single instance except from what is named
the old world; in fact, the new world of America is never mentioned.
Somewhat later, in 1564, when Sambucus published his _Emblems_, and
presented _Symbols of the parts of the Inhabited Earth_, he gave only
three; thus (p. 113),—
[Illustration: Partium τῆς οικουμένης ſymbola.]
_Sambucus_, 1564.
EST _regio quæuis climate certo
Aëre diſtincta, & commoditate.
Quælibet haud quidius terra feretq́ue.
Africa monſtroſa eſt ſemper habendo
Antea quod nemo viderat vſquam.
Fert Aſia immanes frigidiore
Nempe ſolo apros, & nimbigera vrſos:
Sed reliquas vincit viribus omnes
Belua, quam Europæ temperat aër.
Taurus vt eſt fortis, bufalus vnà.
Ergo ſit Europæ taurus alumnus,
Africæ at inſigne ſitq́ue Chimæra.
Sint Aſiæ immites vrſus, aperq́ue._
The Bull is thus set forth as the _alumnus_, or nursling of Europe; of
Africa the Chimæra is the ensign; and to Asia belong the untamed Bear
and Boar; America and the broad Pacific, from Peru to China, have
neither token nor locality assigned.
Shakespeare’s geography, however, though at times very defective,
extended further than its “symbols” by Sambucus. In the humorous mapping
out, by Dromio of Syracuse, of the features of the kitchen-wench, who
was determined to be his wife (_Comedy of Errors_, act iii. sc. 2, l.
131, vol. i. p. 429), the question is asked,—
“_Ant. S._ Where America, the Indies?
_Dro. S._ Oh, sir, upon her nose, all o’er embellished with rubies,
carbuncles, sapphires, declining their rich aspect to the hot breath of
Spain.
In _Twelfth Night_ (act iii. sc. 2, l. 73, vol. iii. p. 271) Maria thus
describes the love-demented steward,—
“He does smile his face into more lines than is in the new map with
the augmentation of the Indies; you have not seen such a thing as ’tis.”
And in the _Merry Wives of Windsor_ (act i. sc. 3, l. 64, vol. i. p.
177), Sir John Falstaff avers respecting Mistress Page and Mistress
Ford,—
“I will be cheaters to them both, and they shall be exchequers to
me; they shall be my East and West Indies, and I will trade to them
both.”
Yet in agreement with the map of Sambucus, with the three capes
prominent upon it, of Gibraltar Rock, the Cape of Good Hope, and that of
Malacca, Shakespeare on other occasions ignores America and all its
western neighbours. At the consultation by Octavius, Antony, and
Lepidus, about the division of the Roman Empire (_Julius Cæsar_, act iv.
sc. 1, l. 12, vol. vii. p. 384), Antony, on the exit of Lepidus,
remarks,—
“This is a slight unmeritable man,
Meet to be sent on errands: is it fit,
The three-fold world divided, he should stand
One of the three to share it?”
And when the camp of Octavius is near Alexandria (_Antony and
Cleopatra_, act iv. sc. 6, l. 5, vol. ix. p. 109), and orders are issued
to take Antony alive, Cæsar declares,—
“The time of universal peace is near:
Prove this a prosperous day, the three-nook’d world
Shall bear the olive freely.”
_Plate 13_
[Illustration: _The Zodiac from a Title page - Brucioli 1543_]
TRATTATO DELLA SPHERA,
nel quale si dimoſtrano, & inſegnano i
principii della aſtrologia raccolto da
Giouanni di Sacrobuſto, & altri
Aſtronomi, & tradotto in
lingua Italiana.
PER ANTONIO BRVCIOLI.
ET CON NVOVE ANNOTA=
rioni in piu luoghi dichiarato.
In Ventia nel. D. M. XLIII.
The Signs of the Zodiac, or, rather, the figures of the animals of which
the zodiac is composed, were well known in Shakespeare’s time from
various sources; and though they are Emblems, and have given name to at
least one book of Emblems that was published in 1618,[154]—almost within
the limits to which our inquiries are confined,—some may doubt whether
they strictly belong to Emblem writers. Frequently, however, are they
referred to in the dramas of which we are speaking; and, therefore, it
is not out of place to exhibit a representation of them. This we do from
the frontispiece or title page of an old Italian astronomical work by
Antonio Brucioli (see Plate XIII.), who was banished from Florence for
his opposition to the Medici, and whose brothers, in 1532, were printers
in Venice. It is not pretended that Shakespeare was acquainted with this
title page, but it supplies an appropriate illustration of several
astronomical phenomena to which he alludes.
The zodiac enters into the description of the advancing day in _Titus
Andronicus_ (act ii. sc. 1, l. 5, vol. vi. p. 450),—
“As when the golden sun salutes the morn,
And, having gilt the ocean with his beams,
Gallops the zodiac in his glistering coach,
And overlooks the highest-peering hills;
So Tamora.
Upon her wit doth earthly honour wait,
And virtue stoops and trembles at her frown.”
It also occupies a place in a homely comparison in _Measure for Measure_
(act i. sc. 2, l. 158, vol. i. p. 303), to point out the duration of
nineteen years, or the moon’s cycle,—
“This new governor
Awakes me all the enrolled penalties
Which have, like unscour’d armour, hung by the wall
So long, that nineteen zodiacs have gone round.
And none of them been worn; and for a name
Now puts the drowsy and neglected act
Freshly on me: ’tis surely for a name.”
The archery scene in _Titus Andronicus_ (act iv. sc. 3, l. 52, vol. vi.
p. 501) mentions several of the constellations and the figures by which
they were known. The dialogue is between Titus and Marcus,—
“_Tit._ You are a good archer, Marcus;
[_He gives them the arrows._
‘Ad Jovem,’ that’s for you: here, ‘Ad Apollinem:’
‘Ad Martem,’ that’s for myself:
Here, boy, to Pallas: here, to Mercury:
To Saturn, Caius, not to Saturnine;
You were as good to shoot against the wind.
To it, boy! Marcus, loose when I bid.
Of my word, I have written to effect;
There’s not a god left unsolicited.
_Marc._ Kinsmen, shoot all your shafts into the court:
We will afflict the emperor in his pride.
_Tit._ Now, masters, draw, [_They shoot._] O, well said, Lucius!
Good boy, in Virgo’s lap; give it Pallas.
_Marc._ My Lord, I aim a mile beyond the moon;
Your letter is with Jupiter by this.
_Tit._ Ha, ha!
Publius, Publius, what hast thou done?
See, see, thou hast shot off one of Taurus’ horns.
_Marc._ This was the sport, my lord: when Publius shot,
The Bull, being gall’d, gave Aries such a knock
That down fell both the Ram’s horns in the court.”
In allusion to the old medico-astrological idea that the different
members of the human body were under the influence of their proper or
peculiar constellations, the following dialogue occurs in the _Twelfth
Night_ (act i. sc. 3, l. 127, vol. iii. p. 231),—
“_Sir And._ Shall we not set about some revels?
_Sir Toby._ What shall we do else? were we not born under Taurus?
_Sir And._ Taurus! That’s sides and heart.
”_Toby._ No sir; it is legs and thighs. Let me see thee caper: ha!
higher: ha, ha! excellent!”
Falstaff, in the _Merry Wives of Windsor_ (act ii. sc. 2, l. 5, vol. i.
p. 190), vaunts of the good services which he had rendered to his
companions: “I have grated upon my good friends for three reprieves for
you and your coach-fellow Nym: or else you had looked through the grate,
like a geminy of baboons.”
In telling of the folly of waiting on Achilles (_Troilus and Cressida_,
act ii. sc. 3, l. 189, vol. vi. p. 175), Ulysses declares,—
“That were to enlard his fat-already pride,
And add more coals to Cancer when he burns
With entertaining great Hyperion.”
The figure of the ninth of the zodiacal constellations, Sagittarius, is
named in _Troilus and Cressida_ (act v. sc. 5, l. 11, vol. vi. p. 253),—
“Polixenes is slain,
Amphimachus and Thaos deadly hurt;
Patroclus ta’en or slain; and Palamedes
Sore hurt and bruised: the dreadful sagittary
Appals our number.”
If it be demanded why we do not give a fuller account of these
constellations, we may almost remark as the fool does in _King Lear_
(act i. sc. 5, l. 33, vol. viii. p. 295)—“The reason why the seven stars
are no more than seven, is a pretty reason.
_Lear._ Because they are not eight?
_Fool._ Yes, indeed: thou wouldst make a good fool.”
How soon the American bird, which we name a Turkey, was known in
England, is in some degree a subject of conjecture. It has been supposed
that its introduction into this country is to be ascribed to Sebastian
Cabot, who died in 1557, and that the year 1528 is the exact time; but
if so, it is strange that the bird in question should not have been
called by some other name than that which indicates a European or an
Asiatic origin. Coq d’Inde, or Poule d’Inde, Gallo d’India, or Gallina
d’India, the French and Italian names, point out the direct American
origin, as far as France and Italy are concerned; for we must remember
that the term India, at the early period of Spanish discovery, was
applied to the western world. But most probably the Turkey fleet brought
the bird into England, by way of Cadiz and Lisbon, and hence the name;
and hence also the reasonableness of supposing that its permanent
introduction into this country was not so early as the time of Cabot. A
general knowledge of the bird was at any rate spread abroad in Europe
soon after the middle of the sixteenth century, for we find it figured
in the Emblem-books; one of which, Freitag’s _Mythologia Ethica_, in
1579, p. 237, furnishes a most lively and exact representation to
illustrate “the violated right of hospitality.”[155]
Ius hoſpitalitatis violatum.
[Illustration: _Freitag, 1579._]
_Si habitauerit aduena in terra veſtra, & moratus fuerit inter vos, non
exprobretis ei._
_Lev. 19. 33._
[Sidenote: _i.e._]
“And if a stranger sojourn with thee in your land, ye shall not vex
him.”
Shakespeare, no doubt, was familiarly acquainted with the figure and
habits of the Turkey, and yet may have seized for description some of
the expressive delineations and engravings which occur in the Emblem
writers. Freitag’s turkey he characterises with much exactness, though
the sentiment advanced is more consistent with the lines from
Camerarius. In the _Twelfth Night_ (act ii. sc. 5, lines 15, 27, vol.
iii. p. 257), Malvolio, as his arch-tormenter Maria narrates the
circumstance, “has been yonder i’ the sun practising behaviour to his
own shadow this half hour;” he enters on the scene, and Sir Toby says to
Fabian, “Here’s an overweening rogue!” to which the reply is made, “O
peace! Contemplation makes a rare turkey-cock of him; how he jets under
his advancing plumes!”
The same action is well hit off in showing the bearing of the “pragging
knave, Pistol,” as Fluellen terms him (_Henry V._, act v. sc. 1, l. 13,
vol. iv. p. 591),—
“_Gow._ Why here he comes, swelling like a turkey-cock.
_Flu._ ’Tis no matter for his swellings, nor his turkey-cocks. God
pless you, Aunchient Pistol! you scurvy, lousy knave, God pless you!”
Referring again to the “Prometheus ty’d on Caucasus,” the Vulture may be
accepted as the Emblem of cruel retribution. So when Falstaff expresses
his satisfaction at the death of Henry IV. (2nd part, act v. sc. 3, l.
134, vol. iv. p. 474), “Blessed are they that have been my friends; and
woe to my lord chief-justice;” Pistol adds,—
“Let vultures vile seize on his lungs also!”
And Lear, telling of the ingratitude of one of his daughters (_King
Lear_, act ii. sc. 4, l. 129. vol. viii. p. 320). says,—
“Beloved Regan,
Thy sister’s naught: O Regan, she hath tied
Sharp-tooth’d unkindness, like a vulture, here.”
[Illustration: _Horapollo, 1551._]
A remarkable instance of similarity between Whitney and Shakespeare
occurs in the descriptions which they both give of the Commonwealth of
Bees. Whitney, it may be, borrowed his device (p. 200) from the
“HIEROGLYPHICA” of Horus Apollo (edition 1551, p. 87), where the
question is asked, Πῶς λαὸν πειθήνιον βασιλεῖ;—
“How to represent a people obedient to their king? They depict a
BEE, for of all animals bees alone have a king, whom the crowd of bees
follow, and to whom as to a king they yield obedience. It is intimated
also, as well from the remarkable usefulness of honey as from the force
which the animal has in its sting, that a king is both useful and
powerful for carrying on their affairs.”
It is worthy of remark that several, if not all, of the Greek and Roman
authors name the head of a hive not a queen but a king. Plato, in his
_Politics_ (Francfort edition, 1602, p. 557A). writes,—
“Νὺν δὲ γε ὃτε οὐκ ἔστι γιγνόμενος, ὡς δὴ φαμὲν, ἔν ταῖς πόλεσι
βασιλεὺς, οἱ~υς ἐν σμήνεσιν, εμφυέται, τό,τε σῶμα εὐθὺς καὶ τὴν ψυχὴν
διαφέρων,” κ. τ. λ.
“There is not born, as we say, in cities a king such as is naturally
produced in hives, decidedly differing both in body and soul.”
Xenophon’s _Cyropædia_ (bk. v. c. 1, § 23) declares of his hero,—
“Βασιλεὺς μὲν γὰρ ἔμοιγε δοκεῖς σὺ φυσεί πεφυκέναι, οὐδὲν ἤττον η ἐν
τῳ σμῆνει φυόμενος τῶν μελιττῶν ἡγεμών.”
“Thou seemest to me to have been formed a king by nature, no less than
he who in the hive is formed general of the bees.”
In his _Georgics_ Virgil always considers the chief bee to be a king, as
iv. 75,—
“Et circa regem atque ipsa ad prætoria densæ
Miscentur, magnisque vocant clamoribus hostem.”[156]
“And thick around the king, and before the royal tent
They crowd, and with mighty din call forth the foe.”
Alciat’s 148th Emblem (edition 1581, p. 528, or edition 1551, p. 161)
sets forth the clemency of a prince; but the description relates to
wasps, not bees,—
Principis clementia.
[Illustration: _Alciat, 1551._]
_Veſparũ quòd nulla vnquam Rex ſpicula figet:
Quodque aliis duplo corpore maior erit.
Arguet imperium clemens, moderataque, regna,
Sanctaque indicibus credita iura bonis_.
“That the king of the wasps will never his sting infix;
And that by double the size of body he is larger than others,
This argues a merciful empire and well-ordered rule,
And sacred laws to good judges entrusted.”
Whitney’s stanzas (p. 200), dedicated to “Richard Cotton, Esquier,” of
Combermere, Cheshire, are original writing, not a translation.
We will take the chief part of them; the motto being, “To every one his
native land is dear.”
_Patria cuique chara._
_To_ RICHARDE COTTON _Eſquier_.
[Illustration: _Whitney, 1586._]
“The bees at lengthe retourne into their hiue,
When they haue suck’d the sweete of FLORAS bloomes;
And with one minde their worke they doe contriue,
And laden come with honie to their roomes:
A worke of arte; and yet no arte of man,
Can worke, this worke; these little creatures can.
The maister bee, within the midst dothe liue,
In fairest roome, and most of stature is;
And euerie one to him dothe reuerence giue,
And in the hiue with him doe liue in blisse:
Hee hath no stinge, yet none can doe him harme,
For with their strengthe, the rest about him swarme.
Lo, natures force within these creatures small,
Some, all the daye the honie home doe beare.
And some, farre off on flowers freshe doe fall,
Yet all at nighte vnto their home repaire:
And euerie one, her proper hiue doth knowe
Althoughe there stande a thousande on a rowe.
A Common-wealthe, by this, is right expreste:
Bothe him, that rules, and those, that doe obaye:
Or suche, as are the heads aboue the rest,
Whome here, the Lorde in highe estate dothe staye:
By whose supporte, the meaner sorte doe liue,
And vnto them all reuerence dulie giue.
Which when I waied: I call’d vnto my minde
Your CVMBERMAIRE, that fame so farre commendes:
A stately seate, whose like is harde to finde,
Where mightie IOVE the horne of plentie lendes:
With fishe, and foule, and cattaile sondrie flockes,
Where christall springes doe gushe out of the rockes.
There, fertile fieldes; there, meadowes large extende:
There, store of grayne: with water, and with wood.
And, in this place, your goulden time you spende,
Vnto your praise, and to your countries good:
This is the hiue; your tennaunts, are the bees:
And in the same, haue places by degrees.”
By the side of these stanzas let us place for comparison what
Shakespeare wrote on the same subject,—the Commonwealth of Bees,—and I
am persuaded we shall perceive much similarity of thought, if not of
expression. In _Henry V._ (act i. sc. 2, l. 178, vol. iv. p. 502), the
Duke of Exeter and the Archbishop of Canterbury enter upon an argument
respecting a well-governed state,—
“_Exe._ While that the armed hand doth fight abroad,
The advised head defends itself at home;
For government, though high and low and lower,
Put into parts, doth keep in one consent,
Congreeing in a full and natural close,
Like music.
_Cant._ Therefore doth heaven divide
The state of man in divers functions,
Setting endeavour in continual motion:
To which is fixed, as an aim or butt,
Obedience: for so work the honey-bees,
Creatures that by a rule in nature teach
The act of order to a peopled kingdom.
They have a king[157] and officers of sorts;
Where some, like magistrates, correct at home,
Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad,
Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings,
Make boot upon the summer’s velvet buds,
Which pillage they with merry march bring home
To the tent-royal of their emperor;
Who, busied in his majesty, surveys
The singing masons building roofs of gold,
The civil citizens kneading up the honey,
The poor mechanic porters crowding in
Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate,
The sad-eyed justice, with his surly hum.
Delivering o’er to executors pale
The lazy yawning drone.”
Again, in the _Troilus and Cressida_ (act i. sc. 3, l. 75, vol. vi. p.
144), Ulysses draws from the unsuitableness of a general, as he terms
the ruling bee, over a hive, an explanation of the mischiefs from an
incompetent commander,—
“Troy, yet upon his basis, had been down,
And the great Hector’s sword had lack’d a master,
But for these instances.
The specialty of rule hath been neglected:
And, look, how many Grecian tents do stand
Hollow upon this plain, so many hollow factions.
When that the general is not like the hive
To whom the foragers shall all repair.
What honey is expected?”
The Dramatist’s knowledge of bee-life appears also in the metaphor used
by Warwick (_2 Henry VI._, act iii. sc. 2, l. 125, vol. v. p. 168),—
“The commons, like an angry hive of bees,
That want their leader, scatter up and down,
And care not who they sting in his revenge.”
In an earlier play, _2 Henry IV._ (act iv. sc. 5, l. 75, vol. iv. p.
454), the comparison is taken from the bee-hive,—
“When, like the bee, culling from every flower
The virtuous sweets,
Our thighs pack’d with wax, our mouths with honey,
We bring it to the hive; and like the bees,
Are murdered for our pains.”
In the foregoing extracts on the bee-king, the plea is inadmissible that
Shakespeare and Whitney went to the same fountain; for neither of them
follows Alciatus. The two accounts of the economy and policy of these
“creatures small” are almost equally excellent, and present several
points of resemblance, not to name them imitations by the more recent
writer. Whitney speaks of the “Master bee,” Shakespeare of the king, or
“emperor,”—both regarding the head of the hive not as a queen, but a
“born king,” and holding forth the polity of the busy community as an
admirable example of a well-ordered kingdom or government.
The conclusion of Whitney’s reflections on those “that suck the sweete
of FLORA’S bloomes,” conducts to another parallelism; and to show it we
have only to follow out his idea of returning home after “absence manie
a yeare,” “when happe some goulden honie bringes.” Here is the whole
passage (p. 201),—
“And as the bees, that farre and neare doe straye,
And yet come home, when honie they haue founde:
So, thoughe some men doe linger longe awaye,
Yet loue they best their natiue countries grounde.
And from the same, the more they absent bee,
With more desire, they wishe the same to see.
Euen so my selfe; throughe absence manie a yeare,
A straunger meere, where I did spend my prime.
Nowe, parentes loue dothe hale mee by the eare,
And sayeth, come home, deferre no longer time:
Wherefore, when happe, some goulden honie bringes?
I will retorne, and rest my wearie winges.
Ouid. 1. Pont. 4.
_Quid melius Roma? Scythico quid frigore peius?
Huc tamen ex illa barbarus vrbe fugit._”
The parallel is from _All’s Well that Ends Well_ (act i. sc. 2, 1. 58,
vol. iii. p. 119), when the King of France speaks the praise of
Bertram’s father,—
“‘Let me not live,’ quoth he,
‘After my flame lacks oil, to be the snuff
Of younger spirits, whose apprehensive senses
All but new things disdain; whose judgments are
Mere fathers of their garments; whose constancies
Expire before their fashions.’ This he wish’d:
I after him do after him wish too,
Since I nor wax nor honey can bring home,
I quickly were dissolved from my hive,
To give some labourers room.”
The noble art and sport of Falconry were long the recreation, and, at
times, the eager pursuit of men of high birth or position. Various
notices, collected by Dr. Nathan Drake, in _Shakespeare and his Times_
(vol. i. pp. 255–272), show that Falconry was—
“During the reigns of Elizabeth and James, the most prevalent and
fashionable of all amusements;... it descended from the nobility to the
gentry and wealthy yeomanry, and no man could then have the smallest
pretension to the character of a gentleman who kept not a cast of
hawks.”
From joining in this amusement, or from frequently witnessing it,
Shakespeare gained his knowledge of the sport and of the technical terms
employed in it. We do not even suppose that our pictorial illustration
supplied him with suggestions, and we offer it merely to show that
Emblem writers, as well as others, found in falconry the source of many
a poetical expression.[158] The Italian we quote from, Giovio’s
“SENTENTIOSE IMPRESE” (Lyons, 1562, p. 41), makes it a mark “of the true
nobility;” but by adding, “So more important things give place,” implies
that it was wrong to let mere amusement occupy the time for serious
affairs.
DELLA VERA.
NOBILTÀ.
SIC MAJORA CEDVNT
[Illustration: _Giovio, 1562._]
_Lo ſparbier ſol tra piu falcon portato.
Franchi gli fa paſſar per ogni loco,
Et par che dica all’ huom triſto & da poco,
Nobil’ è quel, ch’ è di virtù dotato._
Thus we interpret the motto and the stanza,—
“Many falcons the falconer carries so proud
Through every place he makes them pass free;
And says to men sorrowing and of low degree,
Noble is he, who with virtue’s endowed.”
Falconers form part of the retinue of the drama (_2 Henry VI._, act ii.
sc. 1, l. 1, vol. v. p. 132), and the dialogue at St. Albans even
illustrates the expression, “Nobil’ è quel, ch’ è di virtù dotato,”—
“_Q. Marg._ Believe me, lords, for flying at the brook,
I saw not better sport these seven years’ day:
Yet, by your leave, the wind was very high;
And, ten to one, old Joan had not gone out.
_K. Henry._ But what a point, my lord, your falcon made,
And what a pitch she flew above the rest!
To see how God in all his creatures works!
Yea, man and birds are fain of climbing high.
_Suf._ No marvel, an it like your majesty,
My lord protector’s hawks do tower so well;
They know their master likes to be aloft,
And bears his thoughts above his falcon’s pitch.
_Glo._ My lord, ’tis but a base ignoble mind
That mounts no higher than a bird can soar.”
On many other occasions Shakespeare shows his familiarity with the whole
art and mysteries of hawking. Thus Christophero Sly is asked (_Taming of
the Shrew_, Introduction, sc. 2, l. 41, vol. iii. p. 10),—
“Dost thou love hawking? Thou hast hawks will soar
Above the morning lark.”
And Petruchio, after the supper scene, when he had thrown about the meat
and beaten the servants, quietly congratulates himself on having
“politicly began his reign” (act iv. sc. 1, l. 174, vol. iii. p. 67),—
“My falcon now is sharp and passing empty,
And till she stoop she must not be full-gorged;
For then she never looks upon her lure.
Another way I have to man my haggard,
To make her come and know her keeper’s call,
That is, to watch her, as we watch these kites
That bate and beat and will not be obedient.”
Touchstone, too, in _As You Like It_ (act iii. sc. 3, 1. 67, vol. ii. p.
427), hooking several comparisons together, introduces hawking among
them: “As the ox hath his bow, sir, the horse his curb, and the falcon
her bells, so man hath his desires; and as pigeons bill, so wedlock will
be nibbling.”
Also in _Macbeth_ (act ii. sc. 4, l. 10, vol. vii. p. 459), after “hours
dreadful and things strange,” so “that darkness does the face of earth
entomb, when living light should kiss it,” the Old Man declares,—
“’Tis unnatural.
Even like the deed that’s done. On Tuesday last
A falcon towering in her pride of place
Was by a mousing owl hawk’d at and kill’d.”
To renew our youth, like the eagle’s, is an old scriptural expression
(_Psalms_, ciii. 5); and various arc the legends and interpretations
belonging to the phrase.[159] We must not wander among these,—but may
mention one which is given by Joachim Camerarius, _Ex Volatilibus_ (Emb.
34), for which he quotes Gesner as authority, how in the solar rays,
hawks or falcons, throwing off their old feathers, are accustomed to set
right their defects, and so to renew their youth.
RENOVATA
IVVENTVS.
[Illustration: _Camerarius, 1596._]
_Exuviis vitii abjectis, decus indue recti,
Ad ſolem ut plumas accipiter renovat._
[Sidenote: _i.e._]
“Sin’s spoils cast off, man righteousness assumes,
As in the sun the hawk renews its plumes.”
The thought of the sun’s influence in renovating what is decayed is
unintentionally advanced by the jealousy of Adriana in the _Comedy of
Errors_ (act ii. sc. 1, l. 97, vol. i. p. 411), when to her sister
Luciana she blames her husband Antipholus of Ephesus,—
“What ruins are in me that can be found
By him not ruin’d? then is he the ground
Of my defeatures. My decayed fair
A sunny look of his would soon repair.”
In the _Cymbeline_ (act i. sc. 1, l. 130, vol. ix. p. 167), Posthumus
Leonatus, the husband of Imogen, is banished with great fierceness by
her father, Cymbeline, King of Britain. A passage between daughter and
father contains the same notion as that in the Emblem of Camerarius,—
“_Imo._ There cannot be a pinch in death
More sharp than this is.
_Cym._ O disloyal thing,
That shouldst repair my youth, thou heap’st
A year’s age on me!”
Nil penna, ſed vſus.
[Illustration: _Paradin, 1562._]
The action of the ostrich in spreading out its feathers and beating the
wind while it runs, furnished a device for Paradin (fol. 23), which,
with the motto, _The feather nothing but the use_, he employs against
hypocrisy.
Whitney (p. 51) adopts motto, device, and meaning,—
“The Hippocrites, that make so great a showe,
Of Sanctitie, and of Religion sounde,
Are shaddowes meere, and with out substance goe,
And beinge tri’de, are but dissemblers founde.
Theise are compar’de, vnto the Ostriche faire,
Whoe spreades her winges, yet sealdome tries the aire.”
A different application is made in _1 Henry IV._ (act iv. sc. 1, l. 97,
vol. iv. p. 317), yet the figure of the bird with outstretching wings
would readily supply the comparison employed by Vernon while speaking to
Hotspur of “the nimbled-footed madcap Prince of Wales, and his
comrades,”—
“All furnish’d, all in arms;
All plumed like estridges that with the wind
Baited like eagles having lately bathed.”
It must, however, be conceded, according to Douce’s clear annotation
(vol. i. p. 435), that “it is by no means certain that this bird (the
ostrich) is meant in the present instance.” A line probably is lost from
the passage, and if supplied would only the more clearly show that the
falcon was intended,—“estrich,” in the old books of falconry, denoting
that bird, or, rather, the goshawk. In this sense the word is used in
_Antony and Cleopatra_ (act iii. sc. 13, l. 195, vol. ix. p. 100),—
“To be furious
Is to be frighted out of fear; and in that mood
The dove will peck the _estridge_.”
Though a fabulous animal, the Unicorn has properties and qualities
attributed to it which endear it to writers on Heraldry and on Emblems.
These are well, it may with truth be said, finely set forth in Reusner’s
_Emblems_ (edition 1581, p. 60), where the creature is made the ensign
for the motto, _Faith undefiled victorious_.
Victrix casta fides.
_EMBLEMA IV._
[Illustration: _Reusner_, 1581.]
_Caſta pudicitiæ defenſtrix bellua: cornu
Vnum quæ media fronte, nigrumque gerit:
Theſauros ornans regum, preciumque rependens:
(Nam cornu præſens hoc leuat omne malum)
Fraude capi nulla, nulla valet arte virorum
Callida: nec gladios, nec fera tela pauet:
Solius in gremio requieſcens ſpontè puellæ:
Fœminea capitur, victa ſopore, manu._
[Sidenote: _i.e._]
“This creature of maiden modesty protectress pure.
In the mid-forehead bears one dark black horn,
Kings’ treasures to ornament, and equalling in worth:
(For where the horn abides, no evil can be born).
Captured nor by guile, nor by crafty art of man,
Trembling nor at swords nor iron arms, firm doth it stand;
Of choice reposing in the lap of a maiden alone,[160]
Should sleep overpower, it is caught by woman’s hand.”
A volume of tales and wonders might be collected respecting the unicorn;
for a sketch of these the article on the subject in the _Penny
Cyclopædia_ (vol. xxvi. p. 2) may be consulted. There are the
particulars given which Reusner mentions, and the medical virtues of the
horn extolled,[161] which, at one time, it is said, made it so estimated
that it was worth ten times its weight in gold. It is remarkable that
Shakespeare, disposed as he was, occasionally at least, to magnify
nature’s marvels, does not dwell on the properties of the unicorn, but
rather discredits its existence; for when the strange shapes which
Prospero conjures up to serve the banquet for Alonso make their
appearance (_Tempest_, act iii. sc. 3, l. 21, vol. i. p. 50), Sebastian
avers,—
“Now I will believe
That there are unicorns; that in Arabia
There is one tree, the phœnix’ throne; one phœnix
At this hour reigning there.”
Timon of Athens (act iv. sc. 3, 1. 331, vol. vii. p. 281) just hints at
the animal’s disposition: “Wert thou the unicorn, pride and wrath would
confound thee, and make thine own self the conquest of thy fury.”
Decius Brutus, in _Julius Cæsar_ (act ii. sc. 1, l. 203, vol. vii. p.
347), vaunts of his power to influence Cæsar, and among other things
names the unicorn as a wonder to bring him to the Capitol. The
conspirators doubt whether Cæsar will come forth;—
“Never fear that: if he be so resolved,
I can o’ersway him; for he loves to hear
That unicorns may be betray’d with trees,
And bears with glasses, elephants with holes,
Lions with toils, and men with flatterers.”
The humorous ballad in the _Percy Reliques_ (vol. iv. p. 198), written
it is supposed close upon Shakespeare’s times, declares,—
“Old stories tell, how Hercules
A dragon slew at Lerna,
With seven heads and fourteen eyes
To see and well discern-a:
But he had a club, this dragon to drub,
Or he had ne’er done it. I warrant ye.”
It is curious that the device in Corrozet’s _Hecatomgraphie_ of the
Dragon of Lerna should figure forth, in the multiplication of processes
or forms, what Hamlet terms “the law’s delay.”
Multiplication de proces.
Tout homm[e/] en proces tant ſoit fin,
Alors qu’il penſe eſtr[e/] à la fin,
Il luy en ſuruient troys ou quatre
Pour leſquelz il ſe fault debatre.
[Illustration: _Corrozet, 1540._]
That is the very subject against which even Hercules,—“qu’ aqerre
honneur par ses nobles conquestes,”—is called into requisition to rid
men of the nuisance. We need not quote in full so familiar a narrative,
and which Corrozet embellishes with twenty-four lines of French
verses,—but content ourselves with a free rendering of his quatrain,—
“All clever though a man may be in various tricks of law,
Though he may think unto the end, his suit contains no flaw,
Yet up there spring forms three or four with which he hardly copes,
And lawyers’ talk and lawyers’ fees dash down his fondest hopes.”
It is not, however, with such speciality that Shakespeare uses this tale
respecting Hercules and the Hydra. On the occasion serving, the
questions may be asked, as in _Hamlet_ (act v. sc. 1, l. 93, vol. viii.
p. 154), “Why may not that be the skull of a lawyer? Where be his
quiddities now, his quillets, his cases, his tenures, and his tricks?
why does he suffer this rude knave now to knock him about the sconce
with a dirty shovel, and will not tell him of his action of battery?”
But simply by way of allusion the Hydra is introduced; as in the account
of the battle of Shrewsbury (_1 Henry IV._ act v. sc. 4, l. 25, vol. iv.
p. 342), Douglas had been fighting with one whom he thought the king,
and comes upon “another king:” “they grow,” he declares, “like Hydra’s
heads.”
In _Othello_ (act ii. sc. 3, l. 290, vol. vii. p. 498), some time after
the general had said to him (l. 238),—
“Cassio, I love thee;
But never more be officer of mine,”—
Cassio says to Iago,—
“I will ask him for my place again; he shall tell me I am a drunkard!
Had I as many mouths as Hydra, such an answer would stop them all.”
So of the change which suddenly came over the Prince of Wales (_Henry
V._, act i. sc. 1, l. 35, vol. iv. p. 493), on his father’s death, it is
said,—
“Never Hydra-headed wilfulness
So soon did lose his seat and all at once
As in this king.”
This section of our subject is sufficiently ample, or we might press
into our service a passage from _Timon of Athens_ (act iv. sc. 3, l.
317, vol. vii. p. 281), in which the question is asked, “What wouldst
thou do with the world, Apemantus, if it lay in thy power?” and the
answer is, “Give it the beasts, to be rid of the men.”
In the wide range of the pre-Shakespearean Emblematists and Fabulists we
might peradventure find a parallel to each animal that is named (l.
324),—
“If thou wert the lion, the fox would beguile thee: if thou wert the
lamb, the fox would eat thee: if thou wert the fox, the lion would
suspect thee when peradventure thou wert accused by the ass: if thou
wert the ass, thy dulness would torment thee, and still thou livedst but
as a breakfast to the wolf: if thou wert the wolf, thy greediness would
afflict thee, and oft thou shouldst hazard thy life for thy dinner[162]
... wert thou a bear, thou wouldst be killed by the horse: wert thou a
horse, thou wouldst be seized by the leopard: wert thou a leopard, thou
wert german to the lion, and the spots of thy kindred were jurors on thy
life: all thy safety were remotion, and thy defence absence.”
And so may we take warning, and make our defence for writing so much,—it
is the absence of far more that might be gathered,—
“Letting ‘I dare not’ wait upon ‘I would,’
Like the poor cat i’ the adage.”
_Macbeth_, act i. sc. 7, l. 44.
[Illustration: _Aneau, 1552._]
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