water. Each family of swans on the river has its own district, and if the limits of its domain are encroached upon by any of the other swans a pursuit immediately takes place, and the intruders are driven away. And I have seen fierce battles occur if the intruder has shown any determination to contest the point; but, excepting in instances of this sort, they appeared to live in a state of great harmony. The male is most attentive to the female, assists materially in making the nest, which is no slight labour from the immense quantity of sticks that it requires to raise it sufficiently high to prevent the eggs being chilled by the water. Sometimes a rise in the river takes place so rapidly that the whole nest is destroyed and washed away. It is only when we have passed Richmond Bridge that we approach the spot where the “silver Thames” first becomes purely rural. “We get among the swans; pleasurable sensations of escape come freshly over the buoyant spirit, and the mind participates in the calm and sunshine of external nature.” One of our poets, whose works are not as much read as they ought to be, thus speaks of the river and the swans.
See the fair swans, on Thame’s lovely side,
The which do trim their pinions silver bright;
In shining ranks they down the waters glide,
Oft have mine eyes devoured the gallant sight.
But I must return to my swans, and give a few more particulars relating to them and their habits. Their instinct is often shown in a most surprising manner. I am indebted to the kindness of a friend, who knew the subject on which I am writing, for the following remarkable instance of maternal instinct that occurred in a small stream at Bishop Stortford. The swan of whom the story is told was eighteen or nineteen years old; she had brought up many broods, and was well-known in the neighbourhood. She exhibited nine years ago one of the most singular instances of the power of instinct I ever heard recorded. She was sitting on five eggs, and she was observed to be very busy collecting weeds and grass to raise her nest. A farming man received orders from his master to take down half a load of haulm, a sort of straw or grass mixed with sticks. Thus supplied, she most industriously continued her task till the nest and the eggs were raised full two feet and a half. That very night there came on a tremendous fall of rain, which caused a flood in the neighbourhood of the river; the malt warehouses and other premises suffered considerably. Man made no preparation, but the poor swan did: her instinct guided her aright, and her nest and eggs were completely out of danger.
I have sometimes seen the old swan assist the cygnets to get on her back by means of her leg. It occurred to me that this means of transporting the young ones from one spot to another might only be resorted to when the brood inhabited a river with a rapid stream, to spare them the labour of following against the current, but in the course of the summer I saw the same thing occur with an old swan and her brood, on the piece of water in St. James’s Park, where there is no current; so it must be the ordinary mode of proceeding of the parent bird. The dimensions of an old swan are from four feet eight inches to five feet; the weight about thirty pounds. Marked birds have been known to live over fifty years. Nowhere can one see these beautiful birds in greater perfection than on the river Thames. I remember seeing at one time eighteen of these majestic creatures sailing about, while the hen birds were sitting on their respective nests, either on the banks, or else on the small islands on the river. (The males are most attentive to the females while fulfilling their maternal duties; they never go far from the nest, and are always prompt to defend and guard it against any attack whatsoever.) Some had already brought forth their young brood; curious grey-looking birds the cygnets are during the first few weeks of their lives. Some had as many as eight cygnets, but the more ordinary number is from four to six. One part of the business of the swan-herd is to save the bird the great labour of making its nest, by placing faggots where she can find them.
From the river bank near Teddington I can see the spot where Pope’s villa formerly stood. Now alas! nothing remains of it but his grotto, of which he thus speaks in a letter to his friend, Mr. Digby:
In my garden, on the banks of the lovely river, I found a spring of the cleanest water, that echoes through my grotto day and night. From my seat, within this favourite retreat, which is composed entirely of shells, you look down through a sloping arcade of trees, and see the sails on the river, as through a perspective-glass; but no ideas you could form in the winter can make you imagine what Twickenham is in the summer; our river glitters beneath an unclouded sun at the same time that its banks retain their brilliant verdure; the silver swans sail along its placid bosom, or come close to my garden bank to receive their accustomed food.—Letter of Pope to Digby.
At the time of the last swan voyage, the Queen possessed 180 old swans, and 47 cygnets; 227 birds altogether: the Vintners’ Company had 79 old birds, and 21 cygnets; 100 birds in all: and the Dyers’ had 91 old birds, and 14 young ones; 105 birds in all. The total amounted to 537. The number formerly was much greater. At one period the Vintners’ Company possessed 500 birds. In the language of swan-herds the male bird is called “a lob;” the female, “a pen.” These terms refer to the comparative size and grade of the male bird and the female bird. The tubercle at the base of the beak is called “the berry.” An attempt was once made to introduce the black swan from America amongst our English birds, but wholly without success. It was tried by gentlemen having property on the banks of the Trent, and also by proprietors possessing swans on the Thames, and also in the private grounds of the Duke of Devonshire, at Chatsworth; but in all these instances the white swans drove away the strangers with the utmost fury, and the attempt was abandoned; but they were kept by themselves on a large piece of water at Chatsworth for a considerable time. They are much smaller than the tame white swan, and in my opinion very inferior in beauty.
