Aristotle; the legendary from the Fathers, Ambrose, Austin, Basil, and
Gregory,--the Gloss,--and from Pliny. Some of these legends seem to be
pointed at in the Hebrew Scriptures. Thus Ps. ciii. 5, "Thy youth is
renewed like the eagle's," either gave rise to, or refers to, the
tradition quoted in our account of the eagle: and likewise Job
xxxviii. 41, and Ps. cxlvii. 9, seem to be responsible for the
tradition in the account of the raven. It would be interesting to
learn whether any independent traditions of this nature exist.
It is worth pointing out that our author has contributed to the "Gesta
Romanorum" several stories. The "wild tale," as Warton calls it, of
the elephant and the maidens, as well as the story of "the storke
wreker of avouterie" mentioned by Chaucer in the "Assemblie of
Foules," and derived from Neckham, and the similar tale of the
lioness, obtained their wide circulation through the popularity of
Bartholomew's book. It would be an interesting task to trace these
tales to their origin, but this is neither the place nor the time to
do so; and the editor similarly leaves to lovers of Shakespeare the
pleasure of proving to themselves his intimate acquaintance with the
book.
In the part of the chapter quoted from the thirteenth book, the editor
has tried to get together some of those stories which impressed
people's minds most. Such a one is the tale of the remora. We remember
Jonson's use of it in the "Poetaster":
"Death, I am seized here
By a land remora; I cannot stir
Nor move, but as he pleases."
Other tales remind us of Olaus Magnus, and some of them are plainly
Eastern.
Now it pertaineth to speak of birds and fowls, and in particular and
first of the eagle, which hath principality among fowls. Among all
manner kinds of divers fowls, the eagle is the more liberal and free
of heart. For the prey that she taketh, but it be for great hunger,
she eateth not alone, but putteth it forth in common to fowls that
follow her. But first she taketh her own portion and part. And
therefore oft other fowls follow the eagle for hope and trust to have
some part of her prey. But when the prey that is taken is not
sufficient to herself, then as a king that taketh heed to a community,
she taketh the bird that is next to her, and giveth it among the
others, and serveth them therewith.
Austin saith, and Plinius also, that in age the eagle hath darkness
and dimness in eyen, and heaviness in wings. And against this
disadvantage she is taught by kind to seek a well of springing water,
and then she flieth up into the air as far as she may, till she be
full hot by heat of the air, and by travail of flight, and so then by
heat the pores are opened and the feathers chafed, and she falleth
suddenly in to the well, and there the feathers are changed, and the
dimness of her eyes is wiped away and purged, and she taketh again her
might and strength.
The eagle's feathers done and set among feathers of wings of other
birds corrupteth and fretteth them. As strings made of wolf-gut done
and put into a lute or in an harp among strings made of sheep-gut do
destroy, and fret, and corrupt the strings made of sheep-gut, if it so
be that they be set among them, as in a lute or in an harp, as Pliny
saith.
Among all fowls, in the eagle the virtue of sight is most mighty and
strong. For in the eagle the spirit of sight is most temperate and
most sharp in act and deed of seeing and beholding the sun in the
roundness of its circle without blemishing of eyen. And the sharpness
of her sight is not rebounded again with clearness of light of the
sun, nother disperpled. There is one manner eagle that is full sharp
of sight, and she taketh her own birds in her claws, and maketh them
to look even on the sun, and that ere their wings be full grown, and
except they look stiffly and steadfastly against the sun, she beateth
them, and setteth them even tofore the sun. And if any eye of any of
her birds watereth in looking on the sun she slayeth him, as though he
went out of kind, or else driveth him out of the nest and despiseth
him, and setteth not by him.
The goshawk is a royal fowl, and is armed more with boldness than with
claws, and as much as kind taketh from her in quantity of body, it
rewardeth her with boldness of heart. And two kinds there be of such
fowls, for some are tame and some are wild. And she that is tame
taketh wild fowls and taketh them to her own lord, and she that is
wild taketh tame fowls. And this hawk is of a disdainful kind. For if
she fail by any hap of the prey that she reseth to, that day unneth
she cometh unto her lord's hand. And she must have ordinate diet,
nother too scarce, ne too full. For by too much meat she waxeth
ramaious or slow, and disdaineth to come to reclaim. And if the meat
be too scarce then she faileth, and is feeble and unmighty to take her
prey. Also the eyen of such birds should oft be seled and closed, or
hid, that she bate not too oft from his hand that beareth her, when
she seeth a bird that she desireth to take; and also her legs must be
fastened with gesses, that she shall not fly freely to every bird. And
they be borne on the left hand, that they may somewhat take of the
right hand, and be fed therewith.
And so such tame hawks be kept in mews, that they may be discharged of
old feathers and hard, and be so renewed in fairness of youth. Also
men give them meat of some manner of flesh, which is some-deal
venomous, that they may the sooner change their feathers. And smoke
grieveth such hawks and doth them harm. And therefore their mews must
be far from smoky places, that their bodies be not grieved with
bitterness of smoke, nor their feathers infect with blackness of
smoke. They should be fed with fresh flesh and bloody, and men should
use to give them to eat the hearts of fowls that they take. All the
while they are alive and are strong and mighty to take their prey,
they are beloved of their lords, and borne on hands, and set on
perches, and stroked on the breast and on the tail, and made plain and
smooth, and are nourished with great business and diligence. But when
they are dead, all men hold them unprofitable and nothing worth, and
be not eaten, but rather thrown out on dunghills.
The properties of bees are wonderful noble and worthy. For bees have
one common kind as children, and dwell in one habitation, and are
closed within one gate: one travail is common to them all, one meat is
common to them all, one common working, one common use, one fruit and
flight is common to them all, and one generation is common to them
all.
Also maidenhood of body without wem is common to them all, and so is
birth also. For they are not medlied with service of Venus, nother
resolved with lechery, nother bruised with sorrow of birth of
children. And yet they bring forth most swarms of children.
Bees make among them a king, and ordain among them common people. And
though they be put and set under a king, yet they are free and love
their king that they make, by kind love, and defend him with full
great defence, and hold [it] honour and worship to perish and be spilt
for their king, and do their king so great worship that none of them
dare go out of their house, nor to get meat, but if the king pass out
and take the principality of flight. And bees chose to their king him
that is most worthy and noble in highness and fairness, and most clear
in mildness, for that is chief virtue in a king. For though their king
have a sting yet he useth it not in wreck. And also bees that are
unobedient to the king, they deem themselves by their own doom for to
die by the wound of their own sting. And of a swarm of bees is none
idle. Some fight, as it were in battle, in the field against other
bees, some are busy about meat, and some watch the coming of showers.
And some behold concourse and meting of dues, and some make wax of
flowers, and some make cells now round, now square with wonder binding
and joining, and evenness. And yet nevertheless, among so diverse
works none of them doth espy nor wait to take out of other's travail,
neither taketh wrongfully, neither stealeth meat, but each seeketh and
gathereth by his own flight and travail among herbs and flowers that
are good and convenable.
Bees sit not on fruit but on flowers, not withered but fresh and new,
and gather matter of the which they make both honey and wax. And when
the flowers that are nigh unto them be spent, then they send spies for
to espy meat in further places. And if the night falleth upon them in
their journey, then they lie upright to defend their wings from rain,
and from dew, that they may in the morrow tide fly the more swifter to
their work with their wings dry and able to fly. And they ordain
watches after the manner of castles, and rest all night until it be
day, till one bee wake them all with twice buzzing or thrice, or with
some manner trumping; then they fly all, if the day be fair on the
morrow. And the bees that bring and bear what is needful, dread blasts
of wind, and fly therefore low by the ground when they be charged,
lest they be letted with some manner of blasts, and charge themselves
sometimes with gravel or with small stones, that they may be the more
stedfast against blasts of wind by heaviness of the stones.
The obedience of bees is wonderful about the king, for when he passeth
forth, all the swarm in one cluster passeth with him. And he is
beclipped about with the swarm, as it were with an host of knights.
And is then unneth seen that time for the multitude that followeth and
serveth him, and when the people of bees are in travail, he is within,
and as it were governor, and goeth about to comfort others for to
work. And only he is not bound to travail. And all about him are
certain bees with stings, as it were champions, and continual wardens
of the king's body. And he passeth selde out, but when all the swarm
shall go out. His outgoing is known certain days tofore by voice of
the host, as it were arraying itself to pass out with the king.
The culvour is messager of peace, ensample of simpleness, clean of
kind, plenteous in children, follower of meekness, friend of company,
forgetter of wrongs. The culvour is forgetful. And therefore when the
birds are borne away, she forgetteth her harm and damage, and leaveth
not therefore to build and breed in the same place. Also she is nicely
curious. For sitting on a tree, she beholdeth and looketh all about
toward what part she will fly, and bendeth her neck all about as it
were taking avisement. But oft while she taketh avisement of flight,
ere she taketh her flight, an arrow flieth through her body, and
therefore she faileth of her purpose, as Gregory saith.
Also as Ambrose saith, in Egypt and in Syria a culvour is taught to
bear letters, and to be messager out of one province into another. For
it loveth kindly the place and the dwelling where it was first fed and
nourished. And be it never so far borne into far countries, always it
will return home again, if it be restored to freedom. And oft to such
a culvour a letter is craftily bound under the one wing, and then it
is let go. Then it flieth up into the air, and ceaseth never till it
come to the first place in which it was bred. And sometimes in the way
enemies know thereof, and let it with an arrow, and so for the letters
that it beareth, it is wounded and slain, and so it beareth no letter
without peril. For oft the letter that is so borne is cause and
occasion of the death of it.
The crow is a bird of long life, and diviners tell that she taketh
heed of spyings and awaitings, and teacheth and sheweth ways, and
warneth what shall fall. But it is full unlawful to believe, that God
sheweth His privy counsel to crows. It is said that crows rule and
lead storks, and come about them as it were in routs, and fly about
the storks and defend them, and fight against other birds and fowls
that hate storks. And take upon them the battle of other birds, upon
their own peril. And an open proof thereof is: for in that time, that
the storks pass out of the country, crows are not seen in places there
they were wont to be. And also for they come again with sore wounds,
and with voice of blood, that is well known, and with other signs and
tokens and show that they have been in strong fighting. Also there it
is said, that the mildness of the bird is wonderful. For when father
and mother in age are both naked and bare of covering of feathers,
then the young crows hide and cover them with their feathers, and
gather meat and feed them.
The raven beholdeth the mouths of her birds when they yawn. But she
giveth them no meat ere she know and see the likeness of her own
blackness, and of her own colour and feathers. And when they begin to
wax black, then afterward she feedeth them with all her might and
strength. It is said that ravens' birds are fed with dew of heaven all
the time that they have no black feathers by benefit of age. Among
fowls, only the raven hath four and sixty changings of voice.
The swan feigneth sweetness of sweet songs with accord of voice, and
he singeth sweetly for he hath a long neck diversely bent to make
divers notes. And it is said that, in the countries that are called
Hyperborean, the harpers harping before, the swans' birds fly out of
their nests and sing full merrily. Shipmen trow that it tokeneth good
if they meet swans in peril of shipwreck. Always the swan is the most
merriest bird in divinations. Shipmen desire this bird for he dippeth
not down in the waves. When the swan is in love he seeketh the female,
and pleaseth her with beclipping of the neck, and draweth her to him-
ward; and he joineth his neck to the female's neck, as it were binding
the necks together.
Phoenix is a bird, and there is but one of that kind in all the wide
world. Therefore lewd men wonder thereof, and among the Arabs, there
this bird is bred, he is called singular--alone. The philosopher
speaketh of this bird and saith that phoenix is a bird without make,
and liveth three hundred or five hundred years: when the which years
are past, and he feeleth his own default and feebleness, he maketh a
nest of right sweet-smelling sticks, that are full dry, and in summer
when the western wind blows, the sticks and the nest are set on fire
with burning heat of the sun, and burn strongly. Then this bird
phoenix cometh willfully into the burning nest, and is there burnt to
ashes among these burning sticks, and within three days a little worm
is gendered of the ashes, and waxeth little and little, and taketh
feathers and is shapen and turned to a bird. Ambrose saith the same in
the Hexameron: Of the humours or ashes of phoenix ariseth a new bird
and waxeth, and in space of time he is clothed with feathers and wings
and restored into the kind of a bird, and is the most fairest bird
that is, most like to the peacock in feathers, and loveth the
wilderness, and gathereth his meat of clean grains and fruits. Alan
speaketh of this bird and saith, that when the highest bishop Onyas
builded a temple in the city of Heliopolis in Egypt, to the likeness
of the temple in Jerusalem, on the first day of Easter, when he had
gathered much sweet-smelling wood, and set it on fire upon the altar
to offer sacrifice, to all men's sight such a bird came suddenly, and
fell into the middle of the fire, and was burnt anon to ashes in the
fire of the sacrifice, and the ashes abode there, and were busily kept
and saved by the commandments of the priests, and within three days,
of these ashes was bred a little worm, that took the shape of a bird
at the last, and flew into the wilderness.
The crane is a bird of great wings and strong flight, and flieth high
into the air to see the countries towards the which he will draw. And
is a bird that loveth birds of his own kind, and they living in
company together have a king among them and fly in order. And the
leader of the company compelleth the company to fly aright, crying as
it were blaming with his voice. And if it hap that he wax hoarse, then
another crane cometh after him, and taketh the same office. And after
they fall to the earth crying, for to rest, and when they sit on the
ground, to keep and save them, they ordain watches that they may rest
the more surely, and the wakers stand upon one foot, and each of them
holdeth a little stone in the other foot, high from the earth, that
they may be waked by falling of the stone, if it hap that they sleep.
A griffin is accounted among flying things (Deut. xiiii.) and there
the Gloss saith, that the griffin is four-footed, and like to the
eagle in head and in wings, and is like to the lion in the other parts
of the body. And dwelleth in those hills that are called Hyperborean,
and are most enemies to horses and men, and grieveth them most, and
layeth in his nest a stone that hight Smaragdus against venomous
beasts of the mountain.
A pelican is a bird of Egypt, and dwelleth in deserts beside the river
Nile. All that the pelican eateth, he plungeth in water with his foot,
and when he hath so plunged it in water, he putteth it into his mouth
with his own foot, as it were with an hand. Only the pelican and the
popinjay among fowls use the foot instead of an hand.
The pelican loveth too much her children. For when the children be
haught, and begin to wax hoar, they smite the father and the mother in
the face, wherefore the mother smiteth them again and slayeth them.
And the third day, the mother smiteth herself in her side, that the
blood runneth out, and sheddeth that hot blood on the bodies of her
children. And by virtue of that blood, the birds that were before dead
quicken again.
Master Jacobus de Vitriaco in his book of the wonders of the Eastern
parts telleth another cause of the death of pelicans' birds. He saith
that the serpent hateth kindly this bird. Wherefore when the mother
passeth out of the nest to get meat, the serpent climbeth on the tree,
and stingeth and infecteth the birds. And when the mother cometh
again, she maketh sorrow three days for her birds, as it is said. Then
(he saith) she smiteth herself in the breast and springeth blood upon
them, and reareth them from death to life, and then for great bleeding
the mother waxeth feeble, and the birds are compelled to pass out of
the nest to get themselves meat. And some of them for kind love feed
the mother that is feeble, and some are unkind and care not for the
mother, and the mother taketh good heed thereto, and when she cometh
to her strength, she nourisheth and loveth those birds that fed her in
her need, and putteth away her other birds, as unworthy and unkind,
and suffereth them not to dwell nor live with her.
The peacock hath an unsteadfast and evil shapen head, as it were the
head of a serpent, and with a crest. And he hath a simple pace, and
small neck and areared, and a blue breast, and a tail full of eyes
distinguished and high with wonder fairness, and he hath foulest feet
and rivelled. And he wondereth of the fairness of his feathers, and
areareth them up as it were a circle about his head, and then he
looketh to his feet, and seeth the foulness of his feet, and like as
he were ashamed he letteth his feathers fall suddenly, and all the
tail downward, as though he took no heed of the fairness of his
feathers. And as one saith, he hath the voice of a fiend, head of a
serpent, pace of a thief. For he hath an horrible voice.
In this bird [the vulture] the wit of smelling is best. And therefore
by smelling he savoureth carrions that be far from him, that is beyond
the sea, and ayenward. Therefore the vulture followeth the host that
he may feed himself with carrions of men and of horses. And therefore
(as a Diviner saith), when many vultures come and fly together, it
tokeneth battle. And they know that such a battle shall be, by some
privy wit of kind. He eateth raw flesh, and therefore he fighteth
against other fowls because of meat, and he hunteth fro midday to
night, and resteth still fro the sunrising to that time. And when he
ageth, his over bill waxeth long and crooked over the nether, and [he]
dieth at the last for hunger.
And some men say, by error of old time, that the vulture was sometime
a man, and was cruel to some pilgrims, and therefore he hath such pain
of his bill, and dieth for hunger, but that is not lawful to believe.
Jorath saith, that there is a great fish in the sea, that hight
Bellua, that casteth out water at his jaws with vapour of good smell,
and other fish feel the smell and follow him, and enter and come in at
his jaws following the smell, and he swalloweth them and is so fed
with them. Also he saith that Dolphins know by the smell if a dead
man, that is on the sea, ate ever of Dolphin's kind; and if the dead
man hath eat thereof, he eateth him anon; and if he did not, he
keepeth and defendeth him fro eating and biting of other fish, and
shoveth him, and bringeth him to the cliff with his own working?
Enchirius is a little fish unneth half a foot long: for though he be
full little of body, nathless he is most of virtue. For he cleaveth to
the ship, and holdeth it still stedfastly in the sea, as though the
ship were on ground therein. Though winds blow, and waves arise
strongly, and wood storms, that ship may not move nother pass. And
that fish holdeth not still the ship by no craft, but only cleaving to
the ship. It is said of the same fish that when he knoweth and feeleth
that tempests of wind and weather be great, he cometh and taketh a
great stone, and holdeth him fast thereby, as it were by an anchor,
lest he be smitten away and thrown about by waves of the sea. And
shipmen see this and beware that they be not overset unwarily with
tempest and with storms.
The crab is enemy to the oyster. For he liveth by fish thereof with a
wonderful wit. For because that he may not open the hard shell of the
oyster, he spieth and awaiteth when the oyster openeth, and then the
crab, that lieth in await, taketh a little stone, and putteth it
between the shells, that the oyster may not close himself. And when
the closing is so let, the crab eateth and gnaweth the flesh of the
oyster.
It is said that the whale hath great plenty of sperm, and after that
he gendereth, superfluity thereof fleeteth above the water; and if it
be gathered and dried it turneth to the substance of amber. And in
age, for greatness of body, on his ridge powder and earth is gathered,
and so digged together that herbs and small trees and bushes grow
thereon, so that that great fish seemeth an island. And if shipmen
come unwarily thereby, unneth they scape without peril. For he
throweth as much water out of his mouth upon the ship, that he
overturneth it sometime or drowneth it.
Also he is so fat that when he is smitten with fishers' darts he
feeleth not the wound, but it passeth throughout the fatness. But when
the inner fish is wounded, then is he most easily taken. For he may
not suffer the bitterness of the salt water, and therefore he draweth
to the shoreward. And also he is so huge in quantity, that when he is
taken, all the country is better for the taking. Also he loveth his
whelps with a wonder love, and leadeth them about in the sea long
time. And if it happeth that his whelps be let with heaps of gravel,
and by default of water, he taketh much water in his mouth, and
throweth upon them, and delivereth them in that wise out of peril, and
bringeth them again into the deep sea. And for to defend them he
putteth himself against all things that he meeteth if it be noyful to
them, and setteth them always between himself and the sun on the more
secure side. And when strong tempest ariseth, while his whelps are
tender and young, he swalloweth them up into his own womb. And when
the tempest is gone and fair weather come, then he casteth them up
whole and sound.
Also Jorath saith, that against the whale fighteth a fish of serpent's
kind, and is venomous as a crocodile. And then other fish come to the
whale's tail, and if the whale be overcome the other fish die. And if
the venomous fish may not overcome the whale, then he throweth out of
his jaws the whale throweth out of his mouth a sweet smelling smoke,
and putteth off the stinking smell, and defendeth and saveth himself
and his in that manner wise.
VII
MEDIAEVAL NATURAL HISTORY--ANIMALS
The eighteenth book of the "De Proprietatibus" is devoted to the
properties of animals. It is composed of selections from Pliny and
Aristotle, from the works of the mediaeval physicians and romancers,
from Magister Jacobus de Vitriaco, from the "Historia Alexandri Magni
de Proeliis," from Physiologus and the Bestiarium.