162 
FALCONRY IN THE OLDEN TIME. 
[Nature and Art, June 1, 1867, 
the close of a long day’s .sport in winter, these 
provident creatures invariably preserve alive the last 
bird which they have taken, in order that it may 
serve to keep their feet warm during the frosty 
night. When morning comes, with a rare sense of 
the justice of the maxim “ one good turn deserves 
another,” they not only set their captive free, but 
mark well the course he takes, so that they may 
not hunt in that quarter again and by accident 
return evil for good. 
Notwithstanding all that has been written about 
the art of falconry, grave doubts still exist on a 
very important point. How does the falcon deal 
the coup de grace to his quarry, when stooping 1 Is 
the blow vertical or oblique 1 dealt with the front 
or hind talon 1 The best-received opinions seem to 
be in favour of the latter mode of despatch ; and 
certainly the formation and calibre of the hinder 
talons favour the idea : the “ pedibus uncis” of 
Yirgil is also highly descriptive. Another point in 
dispute is whether the heron ever impales the 
falcon on his sharp upturned beak, the idea being 
that it has not sufficient tact to practise such 
cunning fence. Old prints, however, such as that 
of “How to flye the Hearon according to Martine,” 
show the heron confronting the hawk with both 
beak and claws, which favours the idea that the 
latter sometimes shares the fate of merry Die 
Vernon’s favourite Cheviot. 
It may be regarded as conclusive that the sport 
of hawking was first introduced by the Saxons 
during the fourth century, and that in process of 
time the birds became of great value. We read 
how, in the tune of Edward III., a hawk was 
held to be of such value that a holy bishop excom- 
municated a sinner for stealing one which he found 
perched at Bermondsey. During the middle ages, 
also, they were considered as a badge of rank, and 
were much loved by the nobility, who were wont 
to take them to church ; not always, however, 
with impunity ; for we find Sebastian Brandt, in 
1485, complaining that “the whole church was 
troubled by their outrage.” In our present age 
of wealth and extravagance, we listen with wonder 
to such prices as £2,500 for a “ yearling but is 
not that quite eclipsed by £1,000 for a cast of 
three hawks, a price by no means uncommon in 
the time of my Lord Orford. That nobleman kept 
up a regular and expensive establishment for his 
birds. He allotted to each hawk an attendant, 
and sent them to travel during the moulting 
season ; and their average cost to him was about 
£100 each per annum. This, however, sinks into 
insignificance when we read of the princely style 
with which the sport of hawking was carried on in 
the Celestial Empire, There, according to old 
Marco Polo, the emperor was wont to go forth 
with 10,000 falconers, 1,000 men to watch, called 
“ toscaors,” and 5,000 gerfalcons ; each bird 
having a tablet of silver on his feet inscribed with 
its owner’s name ; and surrounded by this grand 
array the mighty potentate reclined in his costly 
chamber, covered with cloth of gold, fondling his 
twelve gerfalcons, each one of priceless value, and 
each attended on by a noble of high degree. A 
book more curious even than Tuberville’s is “ The 
Book of St. Albans,” written in 1481 by Dame 
Juliana Berners, the noble prioress of the monas- 
tery of Sopewell. This lady loves”to dwell upon 
the most minute particulars. She shows how the 
young hawks ought to be taken when they become 
“ Branchers ; ” how they should be blindfolded, so 
as not to injure them ; how they should be cast off 
and reclaimed ; and how their true breeding may 
be determined by their mounting mid-air in 
a succession of small ci rcles until the quarry is o’er- 
toppecl, and the fatal stoop may be accomplished. 
Gervasse Malcolm, another of the ancient writers, 
who calls the sport “ a princely and most serious 
delight,” admonishes the readers “to gaze at hawks 
with a loving and a serious eye, so that they 
become familiar.” 
At all periods, and in every country, the hawk 
appears to regard the heron as his common prey. 
In the “ Speculum Mundi,” written at Cambridge 
in 1635, Sir John Shaw says, “The heron is a 
large fowl that liveth about waters, and that hath 
a marvellous hatred to the hawk, which hatred is 
duly returned.” And what sings Somerville? — 
“ Unhappy bird, our fathers’ prime delight, 
Who fenced thine eyrie round with sacred laws ; 
Nor mighty princes did disdain to wear 
Thy waving crest — the mark of high command — 
With gold and jewels, and bright gems adorned.” 
Then, indeed, the heron was a royal bird, held 
sacred ; he is now no better than a proscribed out- 
cast, dear only to the painters, who love to aid, 
with his gaunt form and ashy hue, the dim solem- 
nity of evening lights and silent pools. 
Henry VIII. loved sport right well, and built 
a palace for his falcons. In his rSign the hills of 
Hornsey and valley of Tottenham abounded in 
game of every description, and were the scene of 
many a royal hunting party. How easily may the 
splendour of such a scene be pictured ! The noble 
cavaliers and beauteous dames of England, each 
with a band of retainers clad in the bright Lincoln 
green ; and the anxious falconer encouraging his 
birds and keenly watching for the quarry. Then 
fancy shows us the stately heron resting on the 
marshy low ground, musing, as it were, over his 
bygone greatness ; then, suddenly becoming aware 
of danger, slowly expanding his enormous wings 
and seeking safety in flight. And now the woods 
resound with the ringing, “La la sensa !” “ Leigh 
ho !” “ Leigh cass !” as the iinhooded falcon is. cast 
off in quick pursuit. How they wheel round and 
round each other in successive aerial circles, each 
striving to mount the higher. The heron at 
length, as if wearied, takes his course straight up ; 
while the falcon’s instinct teaches him that the 
circle is the slow though certain path to victory. 
Now for a moment both birds float poised in mid- 
air, as if husbanding their strength for the final 
effort. One instant more, the sunbeams glance 
brightly on the falcon’s azure neck, as arching it 
prepares to strike, and then the fatal stoop ! 
Such was this princely pastime in the olden days. 
