At which, like unback’d colts, they prick’d their ears,
Advanced their eyelids, lifted up their noses,
As they smelt music.”
Tempest, Act iv. Sce. 1.
The instances of the attractive influence of music on animals are very curious; but how much more curious is it to find some animals so sensitive to its charms as voluntarily to resort to places where they know they have a chance of gratifying their taste for it. We are told, that “an ass at Chartres used to go to the chateau of Quarville, to hear the music that was performed there. The owner of the chateau was a lady, who had an excellent voice; and whenever she began to sing, the ass never failed to draw nearer to the window, and listen very attentively. Once, when a piece was performed, which no doubt pleased him better than any he had ever heard before, he left his ordinary post, walked without ceremony into the music room, and, in order to add to the concert what he thought was wanting to render it perfect, began to bray with all his might.” A writer in the Athenæum, says, “The ass is no unimportant member of the Spanish population, for he is to be seen everywhere; and he has apparently as much gratification in listening to the street-concerts as any Christian present. From the whisking of his short tail, the steady gaze of his eyes, and, above all, the pricking of his ears, you would say that he was familiar with every tune.” In Heresbatch’s “Foure Bookes of Husbandrie,” translated by Barnaby Googe, (1586,) page 125, it is stated, that asses “are very apt to be taught, (in Egypt and Barbary,) so as at this day in Alcayre you shall have them dance very mannerly, and keep measure with their musician.”
It is noticed by Franzius, that stags “love music exceedingly, and are much delighted in hearing any one sing; and therefore one goeth before a stag and singeth to him, while another cometh behind him and taketh him.” M. Marville observed that while a man was playing on a conch shell, a hind lifted up her large, wide ears, and seemed very attentive. Mrs. Vasey says, “If a person happen to whistle, or call at a distance, the stag stops short, and gazes upon the stranger with a kind of silent admiration; and if he perceives neither fire-arms nor dogs preparing against him, he goes slowly forward with apparent unconcern. He seems delighted with the sound of the shepherd’s pipe; which, on that account, is sometimes used to lure him to destruction.” Playford, in his “Introduction to Music,” says, “Travelling some years since, I met on the road near Royston, a herd of about twenty bucks, following a bagpipe and violin, which, while the music played, went forward; when it ceased, they all stood still; and in this manner they were brought out of Yorkshire to Hampton Court.”
Sir William Jones, in his curious dissertation on Hindoo music, says, “that he has been assured by a creditable eye-witness, that two wild antelopes used often to come from their woods to the place where Sirrajuddaulah entertained himself with concerts, and that they listened to the strains with an appearance of pleasure, till the monster, in whose soul there was no music, shot one of them, to display his skill in archery.”
Sheep have been long noted for their attachment to music. Heresbatch says, “A shepherd must deal lovingly and gently with his flock, comforting and cheering them with singing and whistling; for the Arabians (as Alianus writeth,) doe finde that this kind of cattle take great delight in music, and that it doth them as much good as their pasture.” Franzius speaks to the same effect: “When the sheep,” says he, “hear the shepherd’s voice, they all get together into one place, but especially, when he singeth, for they love music exceedingly, and it maketh them feed the better; they are so delighted with it that some think they would not live long if the shepherd did not sing.” This extraordinary writer also says, “the ox is exceedingly delighted in music;” and the remark is true, for fierce bulls have in several instances been calmed into gentleness by music.
Of this musical feeling in oxen, Dr. Southey, in his “Letters from Spain,” mentions a very singular instance:—“The carts,” he says, “of Corunna make so loud and disagreeable a creaking with their wheels, for want of oil, that the governor once issued an order to have them greased; but it was revoked, on the petition of the carters, who stated that the oxen liked the sound, and would not draw without this music.” Professor Bell, in his “History of Quadrupeds,” assures us, that he has “often, when a boy, tried the effect of the flute on cows and some other animals, and has always observed that it produced great apparent enjoyment.”
There is an old song that contains some lines on the cow’s fondness for music:—