The Bird

Part 1

Transcriber's note:

Some presumed printer's errors were corrected. The following is a list of changes made from the original. The first line shows the original text; the second line is the corrected text as it appears in this e-book.

A. E (p. viii) A. E.

and. thou (p. 105) and, thou

resemblance (p. 126) resemblance.

Page 14 (p. 315) Page 74

Don Jean (Footnote 29) Don Juan

Italics are surrounded with and Greek words are transliterated and marked with # #. The oe ligature has been replaced in this version by the letters oe.

THE BIRD

JULES MICHELET.

WITH 210 ILLUSTRATIONS BY GIACOMELLI.

LONDON:

T. NELSON AND SONS, PATERNOSTER ROW; EDINBURGH; AND NEW YORK.

1868.

To Madame Michelet.

I dedicate to thee what is really thine own: three books of the fireside, sprung from our sweet evening talk,--

THE BIRD--THE INSECT--THE SEA.

Thou alone didst inspire them. Without thee I should have pursued, ever in my own track, the rude path of human history.

Thou alone didst prepare them. I received from thy hands the rich harvest of Nature.

And thou alone didst crown them, placing on the accomplished work the sacred flower which blesses them.

J. MICHELET.

Translator's Preface.

"L'Oiseau," or "The Bird," was first published in 1856. It has since been followed by "L'Insecte" and "La Mer;" the three works forming a trilogy which few writers have surpassed in grace of style, beauty of description, and suggestiveness of sentiment. "L'Oiseau" may be briefly described as an eloquent defence of the Bird in its relation to man, and a poetical exposition of the attractiveness of Natural History. It is animated by a fine and tender spirit, and written with an inimitable charm of language.

In submitting the following translation to the English public, I am conscious of an urgent need that I should apologize for its shortcomings. It is no easy matter to do justice to Michelet in English; yet, if I have failed to convey a just idea of his beauties of expression, if I have suffered most of the undefinable aroma of his style to escape, I believe I have rendered his meaning faithfully, without exaggeration or diminution. I have endeavoured to preserve, as far as possible, his more characteristic peculiarities, and even mannerisms, carrying the literalness of my version to an extent which some critics, perhaps, will be disposed to censure. But in copying the masterpiece of a great artist, what we ask of the copyist is, that he will reproduce every effect of light and shade with the severest accuracy; and, in the translation of a noble work from one language to another, the public have a right to demand the same exact adherence to the original. They want to see as much of the author as they can, and as little as may be of the translator.

The present version is from the eighth edition of "L'Oiseau," and is adorned with all the original Illustrations.

A. E.

Contents.

INTRODUCTION. Page HOW THE AUTHOR WAS LED TO THE STUDY OF NATURE, 13

Part 2

PART FIRST.

THE EGG, 63

THE POLE--AQUATIC BIRDS, 71

THE WING, 81

THE FIRST FLUTTERINGS OF THE WING, 91

TRIUMPH OF THE WING--THE FRIGATE BIRD, 101

THE SHORES--DECAY OF CERTAIN SPECIES, 111

THE HERONRIES OF AMERICA--WILSON, THE ORNITHOLOGIST, 121

THE COMBAT--THE TROPICAL REGIONS, 131

PURIFICATION, 143

DEATH--BIRDS OF PREY (THE RAPTORES), 153

PART SECOND.

THE LIGHT--THE NIGHT, 171

STORM AND WINTER--MIGRATIONS, 181

MIGRATIONS, Continued--THE SWALLOW, 193

HARMONIES OF THE TEMPERATE ZONE, 205

THE BIRD AS THE LABOURER OF MAN, 213

LABOUR--THE WOODPECKER, 223

THE SONG, 235

THE NEST--ARCHITECTURE OF BIRDS, 247

THE COMMUNITIES OF BIRDS--ESSAYS AT A REPUBLIC, 257

EDUCATION, 265

THE NIGHTINGALE--ART AND THE INFINITE, 277

THE NIGHTINGALE, Continued, 287

CONCLUSION, 297

ILLUSTRATIVE NOTES, 311

THE BIRD.

How the Author was led to the Study of Nature.

Part 3

To my faithful friend, the Public, who has listened to me for so long a period without disfavour, I owe a confession of the peculiar circumstances which, while not leading me altogether astray from history, have induced me to devote myself to the natural sciences.

The book which I now publish may be described as the offspring of the domestic circle and the home fireside. It is from our hours of rest, our afternoon conversations, our winter readings, our summer gossips, that this book, if it be a book, has been gradually evolved.

Two studious persons, naturally reunited after a day's toil, put together their gleanings, and refreshed their hearts by this closing evening feast.

Am I saying that we have had no other assistance? To make such a statement would be unjust, ungrateful. The domesticated swallows which lodged under our roof mingled in our conversation. The homely robin, fluttering around me, interjected his tender notes, and sometimes the nightingale suspended it by her solemn music.

The burden of the time, life, labour, the violent fluctuations of our era, the dispersion of a world of intelligence in which we lived, and to which nothing has succeeded, weighed heavily upon me. The arduous toils of history found occasional relaxation in friendly instruction. These pauses, however, are only periods of silence. Where shall we seek repose or moral invigoration, if not of nature?

The mighty eighteenth century, which included a thousand years of struggle, rested at its setting on the amiable and consoling, though scientifically feeble book of Bernardin de St. Pierre. It ended with that pathetic speech of Ramond's: "So many irreparable losses lamented in the bosom of nature!"

We, whatever we had lost, asked of solitude something more than tears, something more than the dittany which softens wounded hearts. We sought in it a panacea for continual progress, a draught from inexhaustible fountains, a new strength, and--wings.

This work, whatever its character, possesses at least the distinction of having entered upon life under the usual conditions of existence. It results from the intimate communion of two souls; and is in all things itself uniform and harmonious because the offspring of two different principles.

Of the two souls to which it owes its existence, one was the more powerfully attracted to natural studies by the fact that, in a certain sense, it had been born among them, and had ever preserved their fragrance and sweet savour. The other was so much the more strongly impelled towards them because it had always been separated by circumstances, and detained in the rugged ways of human history.

History never releases its slave. He who has once drunk of its sharp strong wine will drink thereof till his death. I could not wrench myself from it even in days of suffering. When the sorrows of the past blended with those of the present, and when on the ruins of our fortunes I inscribed "ninety-three," my health might fail, but not my soul, my will. All day I applied myself to this last duty, and pressed forward among the thorns. In the evening I listened--at first not without effort--to the peaceful narrative of some naturalist or traveller. I listened and I admired, unable as yet to console myself, or to escape from my thoughts, but, at all events, keeping them under control, and preventing any anxieties and any mental storms from disturbing this innocent tranquillity.

Not that I was insensible to the sublime legends of those heroic men whose labours and enterprise have so largely benefited humanity. The great national patriots whose history I was relating were the nearest of kindred to these cosmopolitan patriots, these citizens of the world.

For myself, I had long hailed, with all my heart, the great French Revolution which had occurred in the Natural Sciences--the era of Lamarck and of Geoffroy Saint-Hilaire, so fertile in method, the mighty restorers of all science. With what happiness I traced their features in their legitimate sons--those ingenious children who have inherited their intellect!

At their head let me name the amiable and original author of the "Monde des Oiseaux," whom the world has long recognized as one of the most solid, if not also the most amusing, of naturalists. I shall refer to him more than once; but I hasten, on the threshold of my book, to pay this preliminary homage to a truly great observer, who, in all that concerns his own observations, is as weighty, as special, as Wilson or Audubon.

He has wronged himself by saying that, in his noble work, "he has only sought a pretext for a discourse on man." On the contrary, numerous pages demonstrate that, apart from all analogy, he has loved and studied the Bird for its own sake. And it is for this reason that he has surrounded it with so many legends, with such vivid and profound personifications. Each bird which Toussenel treats of is now, and will for ever remain, a person.

Nevertheless, the book now before the reader starts from a point of view which differs in all things from that of our illustrious master.

A point of view by no means contrary, yet symmetrically opposed, to his.

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