Books: Mediaeval Lore from Bartholomew Anglicus
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Robert Steele >> Mediaeval Lore from Bartholomew Anglicus
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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.
The editor has been obliged to reduce some of these extracts to make
room for others. Among these the reader will find many examples of
those legends, which made up the popular Natural History of early
days, originally imported from the East through Spain and Italy. The
memory of these survives even now in our popular locutions. "Licked
into shape" refers to the tale we give in our account of the bear. The
royal nature of the lion is a commonplace: Jonson and Spenser speak of
the sweet breath of the panther. Drayton, in his "Heroical Epistles,"
quotes the siren and the hyena as examples:
"To call for aid, and then to lie in wait,
So the hyena murthers by deceit,
By sweet enticement sudden death to bring,
So from the rocks th' alluring mermaids sing."
Trevisa has invented an adjective for us that expresses the midnight
caterwaul--"ghastful." Bartholomew probably suffered from those two
minor curses of humanity--the amorous cat and the wandering cur. But
he has preserved for us a noble eulogy of the dog, and has a reference
to the tale of the dog of Montargis, the standing example of canine
fidelity among a chivalrous folk.
It is said, that in India is a beast wonderly shapen, and is like to
the bear in body and in hair, and to a man in face. And hath a right
red head, and a full great mouth, and an horrible, and in either jaw
three rows of teeth distinguished atween. The outer limbs thereof be
as it were the outer limbs of a lion, and his tail is like to a wild
scorpion, with a sting, and smiteth with hard bristle pricks as a wild
swine, and hath an horrible voice, as the voice of a trumpet, and he
runneth full swiftly, and eateth men. And among all beasts of the
earth is none found more cruel, nor more wonderly shape, as Avicenna
saith. And this beast is called Baricos in Greek.
The boar is so fierce a beast, and also so cruel, that for his
fierceness and his cruelness, he despiseth and setteth nought by
death, and he reseth full piteously against the point of a spear of
the hunter. And though it be so that he be smitten or sticked with a
spear through the body, yet for the greater ire and cruelness in heart
that he hath, he reseth on his enemy, and taketh comfort and heart and
strength for to wreak himself on his adversary with his tusks, and
putteth himself in peril of death with a wonder fierceness against the
weapon of his enemy, and hath in his mouth two crooked tusks right
strong and sharp, and breaketh and rendeth cruelly with them those
which he withstandeth. And useth the tusks instead of a sword. And
hath a hard shield, broad and thick in the right side, and putteth
that always against his weapon that pursueth him, and useth that brawn
instead of a shield to defend himself. And when he spieth peril that
should befall, he whetteth his tusks and frotteth them, and assayeth
in that while fretting against trees, if the points of his tusks be
all blunt. And if he feel that they be blunt, he seeketh a herb which
is called Origanum, and gnaweth it and cheweth it, and cleanseth and
comforteth the roots of his teeth therewith by vertue thereof.
The ass is fair of shape and of disposition while he is young and
tender, or he pass into age. For the elder the ass is, the fouler he
waxeth from day to day, and hairy and rough, and is a melancholy
beast, that is cold and dry, and is therefore kindly heavy and slow,
and unlusty, dull and witless and forgetful. Nathless he beareth
burdens, and may away with travail and thraldom, and useth vile meat
and little, and gathereth his meat among briars and thorns and
thistles.... And the ass hath another wretched condition known to nigh
all men. For he is put to travail over-night, and is beaten with
staves, and sticked and pricked with pricks, and his mouth is wrung
with a bernacle, and is led hither and thither, and withdrawn from
leas and pasture that is in his way oft by the refraining of the
bernacle, and dieth at last after vain travails, and hath no reward
after his death for the service and travail that he had living, not so
much that his own skin is left with him, but it is taken away, and the
carrion is thrown out without sepulture or burials; but it be so much
of the carrion that by eating and devouring is sometimes buried in the
wombs of hounds and wolves.
And such [adders] lie in await for them that sleep: and if they find
the mouth open of them or of other beasts, then they creep in: for
they love heat and humour that they find here. But against such adders
a little beast fighteth that hight Saura, as it were a little ewt, and
some men mean that it is a lizard; for when this beast is aware that
this serpent is present, then he leapeth upon his face that sleepeth,
and scratcheth with his feet to wake him, and to warn him of the
serpent. And when this little beast waxeth old, his eyen wax blind,
and then he goeth into an hole of a wall against the east, and openeth
his eyen afterward when the sun is risen, and then his eyen heat and
take light.
This slaying adder and venomous hath wit to love and affection, and
loveth his mate as it were by love of wedlock, and liveth not well
without company. Therefore if the one is slain, the other pursueth him
that slew that other with so busy wreak and vengeance, that passeth
weening. And knoweth the slayer, and reseth on him, be he in never so
great company of men and of people, and busieth to slay him, and
passeth all difficulties and spaces of ways, and with wreak of the
said death of his mate. And is not let, ne put off, but it be by swift
flight, or by waters or rivers. Marcianus saith that the asp grieveth
not men of Africa or Moors; for they take their children that they
have suspect, and put them to these adders: and if the children be of
their kind, this adder grieveth them not, and if they be of other
kind, anon they die by venom of the adder.
An oxherd hight Bubulcus, and is ordained by office to keep oxen: He
feedeth and nourisheth oxen, and bringeth them to leas and home again:
and bindeth their feet with a langhaldes and spanells and nigheth and
cloggeth them while they be in pasture and leas, and yoketh and maketh
them draw at the plough: and pricketh the slow with a goad, and maketh
them draw even. And pleaseth them with whistling and with song, to
make them bear the yoke with the better will for liking of melody of
the voice. And this herd driveth and ruleth them to draw even, and
teacheth them to make even furrows: and compelleth them not only to
ear, but also to tread and to thresh. And they lead them about upon
corn to break the straw in threshing and treading the flour. And when
the travail is done, then they unyoke them and bring them to the
stall: and tie them to the stall, and feed them thereat.
The cockatrice hight Basiliscus in Greek, and Regulus in Latin; and
hath that name Regulus of a little king, for he is king of serpents,
and they be afraid, and flee when they see him. For he slayeth them
with his smell and with his breath: and slayeth also anything that
hath life with breath and with sight. In his sight no fowl nor bird
passeth harmless, and though he be far from the fowl, yet it is burned
and devoured by his mouth. But he is overcome of the weasel; and men
bring the weasel to the cockatrice's den, where he lurketh and is hid.
For the father and maker of everything left nothing without remedy.
Among the Hisperies and Ethiopians is a well, that many men trow is
the head of Nile, and there beside is a wild beast that hight
Catoblefas, and hath a little body, and nice in all members, and a
great head hanging always toward the earth, and else it were great
noying to mankind. For all that see his eyen, should die anon, and the
same kind hath the cockatrice, and the serpent that is bred in the
province of Sirena; and hath a body in length and in breadth as the
cockatrice, and a tail of twelve inches long, and hath a speck in his
head as a precious stone, and feareth away all serpents with hissing.
And he presseth not his body with much bowing, but his course of way
is forthright, and goeth in mean. He drieth and burneth leaves and
herbs, not only with touch but also by hissing and blast he rotteth
and corrupteth all things about him. And he is of so great venom and
perilous, that he slayeth and wasteth him that nigheth him by the
length of a spear, without tarrying; and yet the weasel taketh and
overcometh him, for the biting of the weasel is death to the
cockatrice. And nevertheless the biting of the cockatrice is death to
the weasel. And that is sooth, but if the weasel eat rue before. And
though the cockatrice be venomous without remedy, while he is alive,
yet he loseth all the malice when he is burnt to ashes. His ashes be
accounted good and profitable in working of Alchemy, and namely in
turning and changing of metals.
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