  TO the general reader these terms may appear synonymous, but to the sportsman and naturalist they have a very different signification. Under the head of “wild-fowl” may be placed the various species of wild geese, swans, and ducks, which, though often found at sea, evince a partiality for fresh water, rear their young in the neighbourhood of fresh water, and, as an article of food, are especially sought after by the amateur for sport, and by the professional gunner for profit; while the group of “sea-fowl” may be said to include the gulls, terns, guillemots, auks, cormorants, and various other birds, which, making the sea their home, rear their young upon its shelving beach or frowning cliffs, and, except on an emergency, are seldom cooked and eaten. A FLIGHT OF FOWL. Shakespeare has given us a peep at both. At one time we see— “Strange fowl light upon neighbouring ponds.” Cymbeline, Act i. Sc. 4; at another— “A flight of fowl Scatter’d by winds and high tempestuous gusts.” Titus Andronicus, Act v. Sc. 3. Anon the scene changes, and leaving the green fields of which Falstaff “babbled,” and the “great pool” with its “swan’s nest” (Cymbeline, Act iii. Sc. 4), we are led to— “That pale, that whitefaced shore, Whose foot spurns back the ocean’s roaring tides.” King John, Act ii. Sc. 1; there to contemplate “the sea-mells” on the rock (Tempest, Act ii. Sc. 2), or watch the movements of the “insatiate cormorant” (Richard II. Act ii. Sc. 1). Nor are we left entirely to our own reflections in these situations. Some trait or other is noticed in the habits of the bird alluded to, some curious instinct pointed out. We pause insensibly to admire the appropriate haunts in which the poet has discovered the fowl, and carry out with him, in thought, the crafty device of the fowler to which a passing allusion is made. Naturalists have frequently observed that when any of the diving-ducks are winged or injured, they generally make for the open water, and endeavour to escape by diving or swimming away, while those which do not excel in diving, usually make for the shore when wounded, and, as Shakespeare tells us, “creep into sedges.” DUCK-HUNTING. “Alas! poor hurt fowl, now will he creep into sedges.” Much Ado about Nothing, Act ii. Sc. 1. “Duck-hunting,” i.e., hunting a tame duck in the water with spaniels, was a favourite amusement in Shakespeare’s day. “Besides the clear streams that ran into the Thames, old London boasted of innumerable wells, now lost, sullied, or bricked up. There was Holy-well, Clement’s-well, Clerken-well, Skinners-well, Fay-well, Fede-well, Leden-well, and Shad-well. West Smithfield had its horse-pond, its pool of Dame Annis le Cleare, and the Perilous Pond. The duck-hunting in these pools, and at Islington, was a favourite amusement with the citizens.”132 “And ‘hold-fast’ is the only dog, my duck.” Henry V. Act ii. Sc. 3. The sense of smell and hearing is possessed by most wild-fowl in an extraordinary degree, and, except under favourable circumstances—favourable that is to the shooter—they display what Falstaff would call “a want of valour,” and, as soon as they become aware of the approach of the enemy, ignominiously take to flight:—
But, if the better part of valour be discretion, Poins, like the wild duck, displays the better part:— “Claps on his sea wing, and like a doting mallard, Leaving the fight in height, flies after it.” Antony and Cleopatra, Act iii. Sc. 10. To swim like a duck is proverbial—
THE STALKING-HORSE. An ancient device for getting within shot of wild-fowl was “the stalking-horse.” Hence the allusion— “Stalk on, stalk on, the fowl sits.” Much Ado about Nothing, Act ii. Sc. 3. And again—
Gervase Markham tells us133 that “sometime it so happeneth that the fowl are so shie there is no getting a shoot at them without ‘a stalking-horse,’ which must be some old jade trained up for that purpose, who will gently, and as you will have him, walk up and down in the water which way you please, plodding and eating on the grass that grows therein. You must shelter yourself and gun behind his fore-shoulder, bending your body down low by his side, and keeping his body still full Sometimes the stalking-horse was made in shape of an ox; sometimes in the form of a stag; and sometimes to represent a tree, shrub, or bush. In every case it had a spike at the bottom, to stick into the ground while the fowler took his aim. In the “Privy Purse Expenses of King Henry VIII.” are various entries referring to stalking-horses, all of which appear to refer to the live animal; and there is one entry relating to a stalking-ox. THE CALIVER. The gun used on these occasions was either the “birding-piece” already described,134 or the “caliver.” Shakespeare has appropriately mentioned the latter in connection with wild ducks, in the first part of his The derivation of the word “caliver” is not quite clear, unless it be the same weapon as the “culverin,” in which case it may be derived from the French couleuvrin, adder-like. In Cotgrave’s French and English Dictionary, 1660, the word is spelled “caloever,” and translated “harquebuse.” In Bailey’s “Dictionarium Britannicum,” 1736, the caliver is described as “a small gun used at sea.” In Worcester’s “Dictionary of the English Language,” 1859, “caliver” is said to be corrupted from caliber, and described as—1. a hand-gun or large pistol, an arquebuse; 2. a kind of light matchlock. In Scheler’s “Dictionnaire d’Etymologie FranÇaise,” 1862, we find—“couleuvre du L. colubra; It. colubro; Prov. colobre; du L. masc. coluber, bri; D. couleuvreau, couleuvrine, ou coulevrine, piÈce d’artillerie; cp. les termes serpentin, et All. feldschlange.” From these various explanations, as well as from that given by Archdeacon Nares in his “Glossary,” it would seem to have been a military rather than a sporting weapon. The best description which we have met with is that given by Sir S.D. Scott.135 He says:— “The Caliver was a kind of short musket or harquebus, fired by a matchlock, and from its lightness did not require a rest.” “‘Put me a caliver in Wart’s hands,’ says Falstaff, reviewing his recruits, meaning thereby that Wart, who was a weak, undersized fellow, was not capable of managing a heavier weapon. It was sometimes called arquebuse de calibre, and was in fact an arquebus of specified bore, having derived its name from the corruption of calibre into caliver. ‘I remember,’ writes Edmund York, an officer who had served in the Netherlands, and was appointed by the Privy Council to report on the best mode of organizing the militia of London, in expectation of the Spanish invasion, ‘when I was first brought up in Piemount, in the Countie of Brisack’s Regiment of the old Bandes, we had our particular calibre of Harquebuze to our Regiment, both that for one bullett should serve all the harquebuses of our Regiment, as for that our Collonell would not be deceaved of his armes; of which worde Calibre, came first that unapt term we used to call a harquebuze a calliver, which is the height of the bullett, and not of the piece. Before the battell of Mountgunter (Moncontour, A.D. 1569) the Prynces of the Religion caused seven thousand harquebuzes to be made, all of one calibre, which were called Harquebuze du calibre de Monsieur le Prince. So as, I think, some man not understanding French brought hither the name of the height of the bullet of the piece; which worde calibre is yet contynued with our good cannoniers.’”136 A contemporary military writer, Sir John Smythe, gives his opinion that the term was derived from “the height of the bullet”—i.e. the bore. He says, “The caliver is only a harquebuse; savinge, that it is of greater circuite, or bullet, than the other is of; wherefore the Frenchman doth call it a piece de calibre, which is as much as to saie, a piece of bigger circuite.137 I would that all harquebuses throughout the field should be of one caliver and height, to the intent that every soldier on the lack of bullets might use his fellows’ bullets.” There are two specimens in the Tower Collection, of a caliver and a musket of the sixteenth century, from Penshurst Place, Kent. The length of the former (here figured) is 4 ft. 10 in., the latter 5 ft. 5¼ in.138 Caliver of the Sixteenth Century Notwithstanding the “bigger circuite,” the musket was considered twice as efficient in its effects, and Sir Roger Williams corroborates the fact, admitting the advantage possessed by the caliver of being more rapidly discharged. “The calivers may say they will discharge two shot for one, but cannot denie that one musket-shot doth more hurt than two calivers’ shot.”139 In the Lancashire Lieutenancy is preserved the price of the caliver and its appendages, and the equipment of the bearer, in 1574:—“Everie caliu his peece, flaxe & touche-box xiiijs; his morion vijs viijd, sworde & dagger vijs, his hose viijs, his showes ijs, his shirtt iiijs, his dublett iiijs, his coate xijs iiijd, money in his purse xxvjs viijd.” For some unexplained reason, the price of a caliver, which, with flask and touch-box, was charged only 14s. in 1574, in 1576 cost 24s.:—
In 1581, we find the charges for “A Shoot:—Caliu, flaxe, tuche box & scorier xvj;” and in a “Schedule of such rates of money as armor may be provided for at the Cyttie of Chester, for such souldiors as shall repaire thither out of the county of Lancaster,” the caliver furnished with flask, and touch-box, laces and moulds, xiijs vjd.140 In 1620, a caliver, with bandoleers,141 is valued at 14s. 10d.142 According to a passage in BrantÔme,143 it would appear that the Spaniards originated this improvement in fire-arms, “la faÇon et l’usage des belles harquebuzes de calibre;” and that it was introduced by Phillippe Strozzi into the French infantry, under Charles IX., but it was It will readily be understood by all sportsmen, that with such a weapon as the “caliver,” much practice and patience must have been requisite to bring it within range of the fowl, and use it with effect. The successful use of a modern punt-gun necessitates an amount of skill and judgment which those only who have tried it can really appreciate. How much greater must have been the difficulties of the wild-fowler of the sixteenth century, whose rude gun and inferior powder necessitated a much nearer approach to the birds! We can sympathize with Cardinal Beaufort, when he exclaimed— “Believe me, cousin Gloster, Had not your man put up the fowl so suddenly, We had had more sport.” Henry VI. Part II. Act ii. Sc. 1. THE STALE. The wild-fowler who could not succeed in “stalking” and shooting the birds in the way we have described, often employed another method of securing them, namely, by means of “a stale,” as it was termed. This was a stuffed bird of the species the fowler wished to decoy, and which was set up in as natural a position as possible, either before a net or in the midst of several “springes.” By imitating the call of the passing birds, the fowler would draw their attention to the “stale,” and as soon as they Beaumont and Fletcher speak of “stales to catch kites” (Hum. Lieut. iii. 2). Sometimes a live bird was pegged down instead of a stuffed one, and was doubtless much more effective, since “one bird caught, served as a stale to bring in more.”144 Shakespeare has employed the word “stale” in this its primary sense, in his Comedy of Errors (Act ii. Sc. 1), in The Tempest (Act iv. Sc. 1), and in the Taming of the Shrew (Act iii. Sc. 1). But commentators do not seem to be agreed on its meaning. In Act i. Sc. 1, of the last-mentioned play, where it occurs again, it certainly admits of a different interpretation. Instructions for making a “stale” will be found in “The Experienced Fowler” (London, 1704). At page 18 of this curious little volume, the author says:—“You may shoot a lark or some other bird, take out the entrails, stuff him with tow, and dry him in an oven, his wings set in a flying posture; and so you may be furnished at all times.” This device was chiefly resorted to for taking the ruff and reeve, and other fen birds, which fetched good prices for the table. Now-a-days, the bird-catchers who take linnets, goldfinches, and other small songsters, almost invariably peg down live decoy birds with a foot or so of string to the legs, in the centre of a pair of clap-nets. WILD-GEESE. But to return to wild-fowl. Puck compares the frightened
And Marcius, addressing the retreating Romans before Corioli, reproaches them as having no more courage than geese:— “You souls of geese, That bear the shapes of men, how have you run From slaves that apes would beat!” Coriolanus, Act i. Sc. 4. The Fool in King Lear reminds us of the old proverb— “Winter’s not gone yet, if the wild-geese fly that way.” King Lear, Act ii. Sc. 4. It is not surprising that, to so common a bird, numerous allusions should be made in the Plays of Shakespeare, and, in addition to the passages quoted in Chapter VII.,145 many others might here be mentioned, were it not that the repetition might prove tedious. BARNACLES. It was anciently believed that the Bernacle Goose (Anser bernicla) was generated from the Bernacle or Barnacle (Lepas anatifera). Shakespeare has alluded to the metamorphosis in the following line:— “And all be turned to barnacles.” Tempest, Act iv. Sc. 1. It is strange that in matters concerning the marvellous, even men of education will take pains to deceive themselves, and, instead of investigating nature with a “learned spirit,” give a license to ill-directed imagination, and credit absurdities. When such men are so credulous, how can we wonder at the superstitions of the illiterate? The first phase of the story in question is, that certain trees, resembling willows, more particularly in one of the Orkneys, Pomona, produced at the ends of their branches small swelled balls, containing the embryo of a goose suspended by the bill, which, when ripe, fell off into the sea and took wing. The Barnacle Goose THE BARNACLE GOOSE. So long ago as the twelfth century, the story was promulgated by Giraldus Cambrensis, in his “Topographia HiberniÆ,” and Munster, Saxo Grammaticus, Scaliger, Fulgosus, Bishop Leslie, and Olaus Magnus, all attested to The Barnacle Goose Tree. THE BARNACLE GOOSE TREE. From Aldrovandus. A second phase or modification of the story is that given by BoËce, the oldest Scottish historian: he denies that the geese (ScotticÈ, Claiks) grow on trees by their bills, as some believe, but that, as his own researches and personal experience prove, they are first produced in the form of worms, in the substance of old trees or timber floating in the sea; for such a tree, cast on shore in 1480, was brought to the laird, who ordered it to be sawn asunder, when there appeared a multitude of worms, “throwing themselves out of sundry holes and bores of In this view he was supported by Turner and others: “When,” says Turner, “at a certain time an old ship, or a plank, or a pine-mast rots in the sea, something like a little fungus at first makes its appearance, which at length puts on the manifest form of birds; afterwards these are clothed with feathers, and at last become living and flying fowl.” (“Avium PrÆcip. Hist.,” Art. “Anser.”) Turner, however, does not give up the goose-tree, but informs Gesner that it is a different bird from the brent or bernicle goose, which takes its origin from it. (Gesner, “De Avibus,” iii. p. 107.) Passing a host of other authorities, with their accumulated proofs, and the depositions of unimpeachable witnesses, we may come to Gerard, who, in 1597, published the following account in his “Herball, or Generall Historie of Plantes”:— The Barnacle Goose Tree. THE BARNACLE GOOSE TREE. From Gerard. “There is a small island in Lancashire, called the Pile of Foulders, wherein are found the broken pieces of old and bruised ships, some whereof have been cast thither by shipwracke, and also the trunks or bodies, with the branches, of old and rotten trees, cast up there likewise; whereon is found a certaine spume, or froth, that in time breedeth unto certaine shels, in shape like those of the muskle, but sharper pointed, and of a whitish colour, wherein is contained a thing in forme like a lace of silke, finely woven as it were together, of a whitish colour; one ende whereof is fastened unto the inside of the shell, even Meyer, who wrote a treatise on this “bird without father or mother,” states that he opened a hundred of the goose-bearing shells, and in all of them found the rudiments of the bird completely formed. Sir Robert Murray, in an account of the barnacle published in the “Philosophical Transactions,” says that “these shells are hung at the tree by a neck, longer than “In every shell that I opened,” he continues, “I found a perfect sea-fowl; the little bill like that of a goose; the eyes marked; the head, neck, breast, wing, tail, and feet formed; the feathers everywhere perfectly shaped, and blackish coloured; and the feet like those of other water-fowl, to my best remembrance.” It is not to be supposed, however, that there were none who doubted this marvellous story, or who took steps to refute it. Belon, so long ago as 1551, and others after him, treated it with ridicule, and a refutation may be found in Willughby’s “Ornithology,” which was edited by Ray in 1678. An excellent account of the Barnacle was published by Mr. Thompson in the “Philosophical Transactions” for 1835, while the latest and most complete treatise on the subject is Mr. Darwin’s “Monograph of the Cirrhipedia,” published by the Ray Society. What, then, is the marine production from which the Barnacle Goose was thought to be engendered? Merely certain shell-covered cirrhipedous creatures, called Barnacles (Lepas anatifera—Linn.), which are to be found adhering in clusters to floating logs of wood, the timbers Barnacles. BARNACLES. From nature. Each individual consists of a body enclosed in a shell, not unlike that of a mussel in figure, and of a fleshy worm-like stem or peduncle, the extremity of which is fixed to the object upon which the animal is stationed. This stem is tubular, tolerably firm, and has a fleshy feel; it is composed exteriorly of a fine coriaceous outer membrane, bedewed with a watery fluid, and beneath this, of an inner membrane of considerable density, apparently consisting of muscular fibres, running for the most part in The shell is composed of five pieces, four of which are lateral, two on each side; while between the valves down the back is interposed a single narrow slip uniting them together. Their colour is white, more or less tinged with purplish blue. Along the anterior margin the valves are but partially connected by a membrane, leaving a large fissure, through which emerge the plumose and jointed arms or cirrhi. The food of the Barnacles consists of small crustacea and mollusca. These are entangled by the many-jointed plumose cirrhi, which are perpetually thrown out and folded again, so as to serve the purpose of a casting-net, and drag the prey to the mouth, where it is seized and crushed. With regard to the reproduction of these creatures, the eggs are seen enclosed at certain times within the hollow of the peduncle, where they appear of a blue colour, and render the pedicle opaque; from this they pass through a minute conduit into the cavity of the mantle, where they are arranged like two leaflets, attached to the septum between the body and the peduncle. They are enclosed in a film, out of which they fall when ready to hatch. It is a remarkable fact, as we learn from Mr. Thompson147, that the young barnacles and other cirrhipeda In due time a metamorphosis takes place; the shell is thrown off, the eyes disappear, the limbs become transformed to cirrhi, the regular valves develop themselves, the peduncle shoots forth, and the animal becomes permanently fixed. Believing these little creatures to be the larvÆ of some crustaceous animal, some of them, says Mr. Thompson, were collected in the spring, and in order to see what changes they might undergo, were kept in a glass vessel, covered by such a depth of sea-water, that they could be examined at any time by means of a common magnifying-glass. They were taken May 1st, and on the night of the 8th the author had the satisfaction to find We have been thus led to dilate upon barnacles in connection with Shakespeare’s allusion to them, at somewhat greater length than we should otherwise have done, on account of the interest which attaches to the old story, With this apology, then, to the reader, we return to the birds. WILD-FOWL. The following dialogue between Malvolio and the Clown, in Twelfth Night, concerning wild-fowl, has reference to the theory of Pythagoras on the subject of the transmigration of souls, and is quite as applicable to birds in general as to wild-fowl in particular:—
Amongst the wild-fowl may be classed the various species of divers and grebes which frequent our shores and harbours, especially in winter, and which afford good sport to the gunner, by their wonderful power of diving long distances in their efforts to escape. THE LOON. The provincial name of “loon” (Macbeth, Act v. Sc. 3) is applied both to a diver and to a grebe. On many parts of the coast the red-throated diver (Colymbus septentrionalis) is known as the “loon,” “speckled loon,” and “sprat loon.” In Norfolk, the name is applied to the great-crested grebe (Podiceps cristatus). Shakespeare employs the term “loon” as synonymous with “coward;” and if we call to mind the habits of the two birds to which the same name has been applied, it is certainly not ill bestowed upon one who lacks courage to face an enemy. Another species of grebe is referred to by Shakespeare in his Venus and Adonis:— “Like a dive-dapper peering through a wave, Who, being look’d on, ducks as quickly in.” This is the little grebe, or dabchick (Podiceps minor). In some parts of the country we have heard it called “di’ dapper,” but it was not until we had met with the passage above quoted that the meaning of the word became apparent. On the subject of “loons,” the Rev. H. Jones has some THE CORMORANT. Close to the divers in the natural system of birds come the cormorants, whose powers of swimming are in no way inferior to those of the species we have just named. They swim so low in the water that nothing but the head, neck, and top of the back appear above the surface. The tail, composed of stiff elastic feathers, is submerged and used as a rudder, and the wings as oars. The address with which they dive, and the rapidity of their movements, are wonderful; no less so than the pertinacity with which they pursue their prey. Voracious in the extreme,— “Insatiate cormorant.” Richard II. Act ii. Sc. 1; they are unwearied and active fishers, following their prey FISHING WITH CORMORANTS. Indeed the voracity of this bird, which, doubtless, suggested the name cormoranus, has become so proverbial, that a man of large appetite is often likened to a cormorant. In this sense Shakespeare has frequently employed the word as an adjective, and we find such expressions as— “The cormorant belly.” Coriolanus, Act i. Sc. 1. “This cormorant war.” Troilus and Cressida, Act ii. Sc. 2. And— “Cormorant devouring time.” Love’s Labour’s Lost, Act i. Sc. 1. THE KING’S CORMORANTS. Ravenous as the cormorant is, it is easily tamed, and becomes very attached and familiar. The use of trained cormorants for fishing is very ancient, and is believed to have originated with the Chinese.149 The practice has been known in England, however, for many centuries. Ogleby, who went on an embassy to China in the time of James I., and who published an account of his travels on his return, describes the way in which the Chinese take We have seen a curious MS. diary150 in the British Museum, written in old French, by Hans Jacob Wurmser v. Vendenheym, who accompanied Lewis Frederick, Duke of Wurtemberg, in his diplomatic mission to England in 1610, from which it appears that the Duke, proceeding by Ware, Royston, Cambridge, and Newmarket, arrived at Thetford on the 7th of May,151 where King James the First was then amusing himself with hunting, hawking, and fishing with cormorants. The entry with reference to the cormorants is as follows:—
The King had a regular establishment for his cormorants on the river at Westminster, and created a new office, “Master of the Royal Cormorants,” which office was first held by John Wood, as appears from various documents in the Record Office. Amongst other entries, for a knowledge of which I am indebted to Mr. F.H. Salvin, the distinguished falconer, are the following:— “No. 1, James I., 1611, April 11.—To John Wood, the sum of £30, in respect he hath been at extraordinary charge in bringing up and training of certain fowls called cormorants, and making of them fit for the use of fishing, to be taken to him of His Majesty’s free gift and reward. By writ, dated the 5th day of April, 1611. “No. 2, May 27th, 1612.—Payment to the said John Wood for getting cormorants from the north. “No. 3, August 31st, 1618.—James I. to Robert Wood. Advance of £66 13s. 4d., in part payment of the sum of £286 due in respect of the cormorant houses, and making nine ponds, &c., at Westminster, the ground called the Vine-garden having been taken upon lease of the Lord Danvers. [“In this document,” says Mr. Salvin, “this Wood is described as keeper of His Majesty’s cormorants, ospreys, and otters. It is therefore clear that the fishing-hawk was “No. 4, February 28th, 1619.—To John Wood, whom His Majesty heretofore appointed to attend the French ambassadors, with the cormorants sent by His Majesty’s good brother, the French King, the sum of £215, for so much by him disbursed and laid out for his charges incident to the performance of the said service, over and above the sum of £50, impressed unto him, for and towards the said charges, appearing by his bill, of the particulars thereof, delivered in upon oath, and allowed by us and the rest of the Commissioners of the Treasury. By writ dated the 18th July, 1609, and by confirmation dated the last of July, 1618. “14th October, 1619.—To Robert Wood, whom His Majesty intendeth to send, with divers cormorants, to his good cousin, the Duke of Lorraine, the sum of £60, by way of an imprest towards defraying the expenses in that journey. By writ, dated 7th October, 1619. “28th August, 1624.—To Robert Wood, the sum of £98 8s. 6d., in full satisfaction of the charge and loss sustained by Luke Wood, in his late travels, with three [“From these two documents,” says Mr. Salvin, “it would appear that cormorant fishing was likely to have become fashionable upon the continent, if poor Wood and his birds had not come to grief. “The civil wars in the next reign extinguished the office of The Master of the Royal Cormorants, and his assistants, and in the Record Office we find this petition from poor old Mr. Wood, who appears to have been rather hard-up and neglected in his old age. “‘A prayer of Richard Wood, of Walton-on-Thames, Surrey, to Charles II., for restoration to his place as cormorant keeper, which he held, he says, from King James’s first coming to England, to the late wars, in which he served as a soldier, but being now ninety-five years old, has been forced to retire to a dwelling at Walton.’”152] “A document in the State Paper Office, sealed with the royal signet, and addressed to the ‘Treasurer of the Chamber’ for the time being, authorizes him to pay unto John Harris, gentleman, His Majesty’s cormorant keeper, for his repairing yearly unto the north parts of England Although Shakespeare has mentioned the cormorant in many of his Plays, he has nowhere alluded to the sport with trained birds; and this is somewhat singular, inasmuch as he has made frequent mention of the then popular pastime of hawking, and he did not die until some years after James I. had made fishing with cormorants a fashionable amusement.154 The sport has long since ceased to amuse royalty, and by English sportsmen is now almost abandoned.155 THE HOME OF THE CORMORANT. To return to the sea, the true home of the cormorant; that sea “Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege Of watery Neptune.” Richard II. Act ii. Sc. 1. “Those who have never observed our boldest coasts,” says Oliver Goldsmith, “have no idea of their tremendous “To walk along the shore when the tide is departed, or to sit in the hollow of a rock when it is come in, attentive to the various sounds that gather on every side, above and below, may raise the mind to its highest and noblest exertions. “The solemn roar of the waves, swelling into and subsiding from the vast caverns beneath, the piercing note of the gull, the frequent chatter of the guillemot, the loud note of the auk, the screams of the heron, and the hoarse, deep periodical croaking of the cormorant, all unite to furnish out the grandeur of the scene, and turn the mind to Him who is the essence of all sublimity.” GULLS. It is amid such scenes as these that we naturally look for and find the next of Shakespeare’s birds, the Gull, or, as he sometimes calls it, the “Sea-mell” (The Tempest, Act ii. Sc. 2). In no passage, however, do we find a reference to any particular species of gull; the word is used in its generic sense only, and is most frequently applied metaphorically to a dupe or a fool:— “Why, ’tis a gull, a fool!” Henry V. Act iii. Sc. 6. The gull is said to have derived its name from its voracious habits, i.e., from “gulo—onis,” a gormandizer. Tooke holds that gull, guile, wile, and guilt, are all from the Anglo-Saxon “wiglian, gewiglian,” that by which any one is deceived. Archdeacon Nares suggests that gull is from the old French guiller. Malvolio asks:— “Why have you suffer’d me to be imprison’d, Kept in a dark house, visited by the priest, And made the most notorious geck156 and gull, That e’er invention play’d on? tell me why.” Twelfth Night, Act v. Sc. 1. GULL-CATCHERS. In the same play we find the word “gull” occurring several times in a similar sense, as in Act ii. Sc. 3, and Act iii. Sc. 2;157 and Fabian, on the entry of Maria (Act ii. Sc. 5), exclaims,— “Here comes my noble gull-catcher!” GULL-GROPERS. When sharpers were considered as bird-catchers, a gull was their proper prey.158 “Gull-catchers,” or “gull-gropers,” therefore, were the names by which, in Shakespeare’s day, these sharpers were known. “The gull-groper was generally an old gambling miser, SEA-MELLS. Not only was the person duped called “a gull,” but the trick itself was also known as “a gull,” just as we now-a-days term it “a sell.”
But it is not always synonymously with “fool” that Shakespeare employs the word “gull.” Caliban, addressing Trinculo, says,— “Sometimes I’ll get thee Young sea-mells from the rock.” Tempest, Act ii. Sc. 2. Here it is evident that the sea-mall, sea-mew, or sea-gull, is intended, the young birds being taken before they could fly. Young sea-gulls were formerly considered great delicacies, and in the old “Household Books” we often find such entries as the following:—
The description of their haunts which the poet gives us in the fourth act of King Lear cannot be easily forgotten. We seem to stand when reading it upon the very edge of the cliff!— “How fearful And dizzy ’tis to cast one’s eyes so low! … the murmuring surge, That on the unnumber’d idle pebbles chafes, Cannot be heard so high.—I’ll look no more, Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight Topple down headlong.” King Lear, Act iv. Sc. 6. Black-headed Gull |
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