John Turnbull/Wikimedia Commons |
- Shakespeare’s Barnacles.
- Giraldus Cambrensison the Myth of the Barnacle (c. 1188).
- Dietary Rules for Barnacles: Innocent III to Gordon Ramsey.
In Act IV, Sc. I, of Shakespeare’s The Tempest, Caliban urges the shipwrecked serving men Trinculo and Stephano to go together with him to murder the wizard Prospero. They are more interested in teasing him with reasons for delay. At last, Caliban cries out:
I will haue none on't: we shall loose
our time,
And all be turn'd to Barnacles, or to
Apes
With foreheads villanous low.
Prospero will wake, he fears, before they can murder him,
and will cast a spell on them.
Like most serving men in Shakespeare, Caliban is intended to
be the source of comic moments in this play.
His thoughts are colorful with fractured imaginings. As is his name: an anagram of the word
“Cannibal” (itself originally a demotic pronunciation of the South Sea native
Caribs’ name for themselves).
Here he has shown some grasp of early modern phrenology vis-à-vis the almost-human ape so fascinating then to the English public. Low foreheads, he teaches us, in passing, were already considered a sign of villainy — low behavior. Villains, in his opinion, were little more than apes. There’s a joke in this. Even Caliban, on his way to murder his master, feels superior to villains and apes for their sloping foreheads.
But why
“barnacles”? Why crustaceans that cling
all their adult lives to the hulls of ships?
Well, for another century or so, still, barnacles would only
tangentially refer to those crustaceans.
Certain types of what we now call “Barnacles” were actually
thought to be strange eggs. They were
opened by the curious to discover what appeared to be the fetuses of birds of
some sort. The body of those barnacles, with its long lacy cirri, look much like a feathered hatchling.
Some variations even included long black almost goose-like necks. The ends of the necks were shaped like a
beak.
At least as early as the 12th century (from which we have the account of Giraldus Cambrensis [link]), the Scots
and Irish connected these observations to yet another mystery. Each winter small geese[1]
appeared in the land. No one had ever
seen these geese mate or lay eggs.[2] Curious minds wondered where were the eggs
from which surely all geese emerge?
At the same time, the many trees that toppled over from age
and water-saturation along the sea shore, during the warmer months during which
the geese were absent, were discovered to be populated with shells that
displayed living flesh quite similar to the morphology of an egg fetus within
them when pried open. There seemed
clearly to be (1) eggs the birds from which were never seen and (2) geese the
eggs of which were never seen. Voilà! The mysterious geese
generations had called “barnacles”[3]
were now explained. They hatched from
the shells that appeared on the fallen trees and logs along the sea shore. The shells were barnacle eggs.
This marvel was so striking that it remained an exotic
source of astonishment to mankind until the end of the 17th century
even though the myth was soundly debunked by both Albertus
Magnus and Roger Bacon. Many Latin pages
of the profoundest medieval learning were spent discussing the stunning “fact”
of nature and its implications. Not only
that, but the original downed trees and logs were transformed in time through
the magic of learned scholarship into living, standing trees, called “Barnacle
Trees” or “Goose Trees”.
How mysterious the ways of God! Barnacles were born from heavily shelled eggs
that grew on trees.
Even the early exponent of direct scientific observation,
the august botanist John Gerarde, ended his famous 1597 Herball[4],
centuries later, with his eye witness account of the Barnacle:
many of these shels I brought with me to London, which after
I had opened, I founde in them liuing things without forme or shape; in others
which were neerer come to ripenes, I found liuing things that were very naked,
in shape like a Birde; in others, the Birds covered with soft downe, the shell
halfe open, and the Birde readie to fall out, which no doubt were the foules
called Barnakles.
…we conclude and ende our present volume, with this woonder
of England. For which Gods name be euer honored and praised.
While he had not seen the hatchlings move, he
had seen the actual fledged chicks nestled in the egg. In his
eyes it was definite confirmation of the tales of the Barnacle Geese hatching
from seawater shells.
[1]
Dresser, H. E.
A Manual Of Palaearctic Birds. (1902). 596. Bernacle Goose. Branta Leucopsis. “Hind-crown, lores, nape, hind-neck, breast,
and upper back deep black; rest of the head and upper throat white;… wing
15.8”.
[2]
Ibid. Even in 1902, the nesting habits
and location of this diminuitive goose were uncertain. “scarcely
anything is known respecting its nidification, but it
probably breeds in Greenland.” It is
also said to breed in Iceland and Northern Sweden. It winters in Scotland, Ireland and Northern
Europe.
[3]
Ibid. “Oie-bemache, French ; Weisswangcngans,
German ; Brandgans, Dutch ; Bramgaas, Dan. ; Hvidkindct Gaas,
Nonv. ; Hvitkindad Gas, Swed.”
Max Muller lists the common medieval names in his wonderful
Lectures On The Science Of Language. (1885). II. n603-4. English: Bernacle, Scoth goose, Tree Geese,
Brant Geese. Scotch: Clakis or claiks, clak-guse, claik-gees, Barnacle.
Orcades: Rodgans. Dutch: Ratgans. German: Baumgans. Danish: Ray-gaas, Radgaas.
Norwegian: Raatne-gans, goul, gagl. Iceland: Helsingen. French: Bernache, Cane a collier. Nonnette, Religieuse;
Macquerolle, (?) Macreuse.
(?)
Latin:
Bernicula, Bernacula, Bernacla, Bernicla, Bernecla, Bernecela (Fred. II. Imp., de
Arte Venandi), Bernaca, Bernicha, Bernecha, Berneca, Bernichia, Branta (ab
atro colore anser scoticus), Bernesta, Barneta (Gervasius Tilb.,) Barnaces
(Brompton, p. 1072), Barliata (Isidorus) Barbata (Albertus Magnus). Barbata
(or Bar-hates) may be misread for Barliata or Bachadae.
Cf.
Ducange, s. v. Menage, s.v. Bernache. Diefenbach, Glossarium
Latino- Germanicum: ‘ Galli has aves Macquerolles et Macreuses appellant,
et tempore Quadragesimali ex Normannia Parisios deferunt. Sed
revera deprehensum est a Batavis, anseres hosce ova
parere,’ &c. (Willoughby).
Another name is given by Scaliger. Julius Caesar Scaliger, ad Arist. de Plantis,
lib. i.:—‘Anates (inquit, melius dixisset Anseres) Oceani, quas Armorici partim
Crabrans, partim Bernachias vocant. Eae creantur ex putredine naufragiorum,
pendentque rostro a matrice, quoad absolutae decidant in subjectas aquas, unde
sibi statim victum quaerunt: visendo interea spectaculo pensiles, motitantesque
tum pedes, tum alas.’
[4]
Gerarde, John. The Herball or General
Historie of Plantes Gathered by John Gerarde of London Master in Chirurgurie
(1597). 1392.
Also at Virtual Grub Street:
- Hedingham Castle 1485-1562 with Virtual Tour Link. January 29, 2019. “Mr. Sheffeld told me that afore the old Erle of Oxford tyme, that cam yn with King Henry the vii., the Castelle of Hengham was yn much ruine,…”
- Why Shakespeare Appears on Title Pages from 1598. November 20, 2018. ‘These he finds unconvincing. The author’s name having appeared in a number of title pages after 1598, he continues, “it would seem foolish for publishers not to attach the Shakespeare brand to his previously unattributed plays—unless they had other reasons not to do so.”’
- The Battle Over Shakespeare's Early and Late Plays. September 24, 2018. “The answers to the post-Oxford dilemma, of course, are three.”
- Edward de Vere Changes the Course of History: Christmas, 1580. September 17, 2018. “First Secretary to the Queen, Sir Francis Walsingham, had been pressing the Queen since at least the St. Bartholomew's Day massacre, in France, in 1573, to recognize that Catholicism was, by its nature, unalterably inimical to her person and her throne.”
- Check out the English Renaissance Article Index for many more articles and reviews about this fascinating time and about the Shakespeare Authorship Question.
2 comments:
Love the barnacle blog. Rationale for barnacle geese being "fish" is faschinating. FYI, it should be "voilà", rather than "viola" (which is, however, a Shakespearean heroine).
I kinda thought it was fascinating, myself. You might enjoy the Cambrensis link, as well, if you haven't already read that additional information. Many thanks for the heads up on the typo. I can be impressively blind to small misfires like that.
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