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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dddf2fc --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #66762 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/66762) diff --git a/old/66762-0.txt b/old/66762-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 18b3f13..0000000 --- a/old/66762-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7782 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Life of the Caterpillar, by Jean-Henri -Fabre - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The Life of the Caterpillar - -Author: Jean-Henri Fabre - -Translator: Alexander Teixeira de Mattos - -Release Date: November 17, 2021 [eBook #66762] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed Proofreading - Team at https://www.pgdp.net/ for Project Gutenberg (This file - was produced from images generously made available by The - Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIFE OF THE CATERPILLAR *** - - - - THE LIFE OF THE - CATERPILLAR - - - BY - J. HENRI FABRE - - TRANSLATED BY - - Alexander Teixeira de Mattos - FELLOW OF THE ZOOLOGICAL SOCIETY OF LONDON - - - NEW YORK - DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY - 1916 - - - - - - - - -CONTENTS - - - PAGE - TRANSLATOR’S NOTE 5 - - CHAPTER - I THE PINE PROCESSIONARY: LAYING THE EGGS 9 - II THE PINE PROCESSIONARY: THE NEST; THE COMMUNITY 27 - III THE PINE PROCESSIONARY: THE PROCESSION 56 - IV THE PINE PROCESSIONARY: METEOROLOGY 90 - V THE PINE PROCESSIONARY: THE MOTH 111 - VI THE PINE PROCESSIONARY: THE STINGING POWER 128 - VII THE ARBUTUS CATERPILLAR 150 - VIII AN INSECT VIRUS 161 - IX THE PSYCHES: THE LAYING 186 - X THE PSYCHES: THE CASES 217 - XI THE GREAT PEACOCK 246 - XII THE BANDED MONK 279 - XIII THE SENSE OF SMELL 300 - XIV THE CABBAGE-CATERPILLAR 331 - - - - - - - - -TRANSLATOR’S NOTE - - -This, the sixth volume of the Collected Edition of Fabre’s -Entomological Works in English, is the first that I am preparing for -publication since the author’s death, on the 11th of October, 1915, at -an exceedingly advanced age. It contains all the essays, fourteen in -number, which he wrote on Butterflies and Moths, or their caterpillars. - -Three of these, the chapters entitled The Great Peacock, The Banded -Monk and The Sense of Smell, are included under the titles of The Great -Peacock, The Oak Eggar and A Truffle-hunter: the Bolboceras Gallicus in -a volume of miscellaneous extracts from the Souvenirs entomologiques -translated by Mr. Bernard Miall and published by the Century Company. -The volume in question is named Social Life in the Insect World; and I -strongly recommend it to the reader, if only because of the excellent -photographs from nature with which it is illustrated. - -Chapter III. of the present volume, The Pine Processionary: the -Procession, has appeared in the Fortnightly Review; and Chapter XIV., -The Cabbage Caterpillar, the last essay but one from the author’s pen, -written, I believe, within two or three years of his death, was first -printed in the Century Magazine, some time before its publication in -the original. It does not form part of the Souvenirs entomologiques. -The remaining essays are new in their English guise. - -Once more I wish to record my gratitude to Miss Frances Rodwell for the -faithful assistance which she has lent me in the preparation of this -volume, as in that of all the earlier volumes of the series. - - -Alexander Teixeira de Mattos. - -Chelsea, 1916. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER I - -THE PINE PROCESSIONARY: THE EGGS AND THE HATCHING - - -This caterpillar has already had his story told by Réaumur, [1] but it -was a story marked by gaps. These were inevitable in the conditions -under which the great man worked, for he had to receive all his -materials by barge from the distant Bordeaux Landes. The transplanted -insect could not be expected to furnish its biographer with other than -fragmentary evidence, very weak in those biological details which form -the principal charm of entomology. To study the habits of insects one -must observe them long and closely on their native heath, so to speak, -in the place where their instincts have full and natural play. - -With caterpillars foreign to the Paris climate and brought from the -other end of France, Réaumur therefore ran the risk of missing many -most interesting facts. This is what actually happened, just as it did -on a later occasion in the case of another alien, the Cicada. [2] -Nevertheless, the information which he was able to extract from a few -nests sent to him from the Landes is of the highest value. - -Better served than he by circumstances, I will take up afresh the story -of the Processionary Caterpillar of the Pine. If the subject does not -come up to my hopes, it will certainly not be for lack of materials. In -my harmas [3] laboratory, now stocked with a few trees in addition to -its bushes, stand some vigorous fir-trees, the Aleppo pine and the -black Austrian pine, a substitute for that of the Landes. Every year -the caterpillar takes possession of them and spins his great purses in -their branches. In the interest of the leaves, which are horribly -ravaged, as though there had been a fire, I am obliged each winter to -make a strict survey and to extirpate the nests with a long forked -batten. - -You voracious little creatures, if I let you have your way, I should -soon be robbed of the murmur of my once so leafy pines! Today I will -seek compensation for all the trouble I have taken. Let us make a -compact. You have a story to tell. Tell it me; and for a year, for two -years or longer, until I know more or less all about it, I shall leave -you undisturbed, even at the cost of lamentable suffering to the pines. - -Having concluded the treaty and left the caterpillars in peace, I soon -have abundant material for my observations. In return for my indulgence -I get some thirty nests within a few steps of my door. If the -collection were not large enough, the pine-trees in the neighbourhood -would supply me with any necessary additions. But I have a preference -and a decided preference for the population of my own enclosure, whose -nocturnal habits are much easier to observe by lantern-light. With such -treasures daily before my eyes, at any time that I wish and under -natural conditions, I cannot fail to see the Processionary’s story -unfolded at full length. Let us try. - -And first of all the egg, which Réaumur did not see. In the first -fortnight of August, let us inspect the lower branches of the pines, on -a level with our eyes. If we pay the least attention, we soon discover, -here and there, on the foliage, certain little whitish cylinders -spotting the dark green. These are the Bombyx’ eggs: each cylinder is -the cluster laid by one mother. - -The pine-needles are grouped in twos. Each pair is wrapped at its base -in a cylindrical muff which measures about an inch long by a fifth or -sixth of an inch wide. This muff, which has a silky appearance and is -white slightly tinted with russet, is covered with scales that overlap -after the manner of the tiles on a roof; and yet their arrangement, -though fairly regular, is by no means geometrical. The general aspect -is more or less that of an immature walnut-catkin. - -The scales are almost oval in form, semitransparent and white, with a -touch of brown at the base and of russet at the tip. They are free at -the lower end, which tapers slightly, but firmly fixed at the upper -end, which is wider and blunter. You cannot detach them either by -blowing on them or by rubbing them repeatedly with a hair-pencil. They -stand up, like a fleece stroked the wrong way, if the sheath is rubbed -gently upwards, and retain this bristling position indefinitely; they -resume their original arrangement when the friction is in the opposite -direction. At the same time, they are as soft as velvet to the touch. -Carefully laid one upon the other, they form a roof that protects the -eggs. It is impossible for a drop of rain or dew to penetrate under -this shelter of soft tiles. - -The origin of this defensive covering is self-evident: the mother has -stripped a part of her body to protect her eggs. Like the Eider-duck, -she has made a warm overcoat for them out of her own down. Réaumur had -already suspected as much from a very curious peculiarity of the Moth. -Let me quote the passage: - - - “The females,” he says, “have a shiny patch on the upper part of - their body, near the hind-quarters. The shape and gloss of this - disk attracted my attention the first time that I saw it. I was - holding a pin, with which I touched it, to examine its structure. - The contact of the pin produced a little spectacle that surprised - me: I saw a cloud of tiny spangles at once detach themselves. These - spangles scattered in every direction: some seemed to be shot into - the air, others to the sides; but the greater part of the cloud - fell softly to the ground. - - “Each of those bodies which I am calling spangles is an extremely - slender lamina, bearing some resemblance to the atoms of dust on - the Moths’ wings, but of course much bigger.... The disk that is so - noticeable on the hind-quarters of these Moths is therefore a - heap—and an enormous heap—of these scales.... The females seem to - use them to wrap their eggs in; but the Moths of the Pine - Caterpillar refused to lay while in my charge and consequently did - not enlighten me as to whether they use the scales to cover their - eggs or as to what they are doing with all those scales gathered - round their hinder part, which were not given them and placed in - that position to serve no purpose.” - - -You were right, my learned master: that dense and regular crop of -spangles did not grow on the Moth’s tail for nothing. Is there anything -that has no object? You did not think so; I do not think so either. -Everything has its reason for existing. Yes, you were well-inspired -when you foresaw that the cloud of scales which flew out under the -point of your pin must serve to protect the eggs. - -I remove the scaly fleece with my pincers and, as I expected, the eggs -appear, looking like little white-enamel beads. Clustering closely -together, they make nine longitudinal rows. In one of these rows I -count thirty-five eggs. As the nine rows are very nearly alike, the -contents of the cylinder amount in all to about three hundred eggs, a -respectable family for one mother! - -The eggs of one row or file alternate exactly with those in the two -adjoining files, so as to leave no empty spaces. They suggest a piece -of bead-work produced with exquisite dexterity by patient fingers. It -would be more correct still to compare them with a cob of Indian corn, -with its neat rows of seeds, but a greatly reduced cob, the tininess of -whose dimensions makes its mathematical precision all the more -remarkable. The grains of the Moth’s spike have a slight tendency to be -hexagonal, because of their mutual pressure; they are stuck close -together, so much so that they cannot be separated. If force is used, -the layer comes off the leaf in fragments, in small cakes always -consisting of several eggs apiece. The beads laid are therefore -fastened together by a glutinous varnish; and it is on this varnish -that the broad base of the defensive scales is fixed. - -It would be interesting, if a favourable opportunity occurred, to see -how the mother achieves that beautifully regular arrangement of the -eggs and also how, as soon as she has laid one, all sticky with -varnish, she makes a roof for it with a few scales removed one by one -from her hind-quarters. For the moment, the very structure of the -finished work tells us the course of the procedure. It is evident that -the eggs are not laid in longitudinal files, but in circular rows, in -rings, which lie one above the other, alternating their grains. The -laying begins at the bottom, near the lower end of the double -pine-leaf; it finishes at the top. The first eggs in order of date are -those of the bottom ring; the last are those of the top ring. The -arrangement of the scales, all in a longitudinal direction and attached -by the end facing the top of the leaf, makes any other method of -progression inadmissible. - -Let us consider in the light of reflection the elegant edifice now -before our eyes. Young or old, cultured or ignorant, we shall all, on -seeing the Bombyx’ pretty little spike, exclaim: - -“How handsome!” - -And what will strike us most will be not the beautiful enamel pearls, -but the way in which they are put together with such geometrical -regularity. Whence we can draw a great moral, to wit, that an exquisite -order governs the work of a creature without consciousness, one of the -humblest of the humble. A paltry Moth follows the harmonious laws of -order. - -If Micromégas [4] took it into his head to leave Sirius once more and -visit our planet, would he find anything to admire among us? Voltaire -shows him to us using one of the diamonds of his necklace as a -magnifying-glass in order to obtain some sort of view of the -three-master which has run aground on his thumb-nail. He enters into -conversation with the crew. A nail-paring, curved like a horn, -encompasses the ship and serves as a speaking-trumpet; a tooth-pick, -which touches the vessel with its tapering end and the lips of the -giant, some thousand fathoms above, with the other, serves as a -telephone. The outcome of the famous dialogue is that, if we would form -a sound judgment of things and see them under fresh aspects, there is -nothing like changing one’s planet. - -The probability then is that the Sirian would have had a rather poor -notion of our artistic beauties. To him our masterpieces of statuary, -even though sprung from the chisel of a Phidias, would be mere dolls of -marble or bronze, hardly more worthy of interest than the children’s -rubber dolls are to us; our landscape-paintings would be regarded as -dishes of spinach smelling unpleasantly of oil; our opera-scores would -be described as very expensive noises. - -These things, belonging to the domain of the senses, possess a relative -æsthetic value, subordinated to the organism that judges them. -Certainly the Venus of Melos and the Apollo Belvedere are superb works; -but even so it takes a special eye to appreciate them. Micromégas, if -he saw them, would be full of pity for the leanness of human forms. To -him the beautiful calls for something other than our sorry, frog-like -anatomy. - -Show him, on the other hand, that sort of abortive windmill by means of -which Pythagoras, echoing the wise men of Egypt, teaches us the -fundamental properties of the right-angled triangle. Should the good -giant, contrary to our expectation, happen not to know about it, -explain to him what the windmill means. Once the light has entered his -mind, he will find, just as we do, that there is beauty there, real -beauty, not certainly in that horrible hieroglyphic, the figure, but in -the unchangeable relation between the lengths of the three sides; he -will admire as much as we do geometry the eternal balancer of space. - -There is, therefore, a severe beauty, belonging to the domain of -reason, the same in every world, the same under every sun, whether the -suns be single or many, white or red, blue or yellow. This universal -beauty is order. Everything is done by weight and measure, a great -statement whose truth breaks upon us all the more vividly as we probe -more deeply into the mystery of things. - -Is this order, upon which the equilibrium of the universe is based, the -predestined result of a blind mechanism? Does it enter into the plans -of an Eternal Geometer, as Plato had it? Is it the ideal of a supreme -lover of beauty, which would explain everything? - -Why all this regularity in the curve of the petals of a flower, why all -this elegance in the chasings on a Beetle’s wing-cases? Is that -infinite grace, even in the tiniest details, compatible with the -brutality of uncontrolled forces? One might as well attribute the -artist’s exquisite medallion to the steam-hammer which makes the slag -sweat in the melting. - -These are very lofty thoughts concerning a miserable cylinder which -will bear a crop of caterpillars. It cannot be helped. The moment one -tries to dig out the least detail of things, up starts a why which -scientific investigation is unable to answer. The riddle of the world -has certainly its explanation otherwhere than in the little truths of -our laboratories. But let us leave Micromégas to philosophize and -return to the commonplaces of observation. - -The Pine Bombyx has rivals in the art of gracefully grouping her -egg-beads. Among their number is the Neustrian Bombyx, whose -caterpillar is known by the name of “Livery,” because of his costume. -Her eggs are assembled in bracelets around little branches varying -greatly in nature, apple- and pear-branches chiefly. Any one seeing -this elegant work for the first time would be ready to attribute it to -the fingers of a skilled stringer of beads. My small son Paul opens -eyes wide with surprise and utters an astonished “Oh!” each time that -he comes upon the dear little bracelet. The beauty of order forces -itself upon his dawning attention. - -Though not so long and marked above all by the absence of any wrapper, -the ring of the Neustrian Bombyx reminds one of the other’s cylinder, -stripped of its scaly covering. It would be easy to multiply these -instances of elegant grouping, contrived now in one way, now in -another, but always with consummate art. It would take up too much -time, however. Let us keep to the Pine Bombyx. - -The hatching takes place in September, a little earlier in one case, a -little later in another. So that I may easily watch the new-born -caterpillars in their first labours, I have placed a few egg-laden -branches in the window of my study. They are standing in a glass of -water which will keep them properly fresh for some time. - -The little caterpillars leave the egg in the morning, at about eight -o’clock. If I just lift the scales of the cylinder in process of -hatching, I see black heads appear, which nibble and burst and push -back the torn ceilings. The tiny creatures emerge slowly, some here and -some there, all over the surface. - -After the hatching, the scaly cylinder is as regular and as fresh in -appearance as if it were still inhabited. We do not perceive that it is -deserted until we raise the spangles. The eggs, still arranged in -regular rows, are now so many yawning goblets of a slightly translucent -white; they lack the cap-shaped lid, which has been rent and destroyed -by the new-born grubs. - -The puny creatures measure a millimetre [5] at most in length. Devoid -as yet of the bright red that will soon be their adornment, they are -pale-yellow, bristling with hairs, some shortish and black, others -rather longer and white. The head, of a glossy black, is big in -proportion. Its diameter is twice that of the body. This exaggerated -size of the head implies a corresponding strength of jaw, capable of -attacking tough food from the start. A huge head, stoutly clad in horn, -is the predominant feature of the budding caterpillar. - -These macrocephalous ones are, as we see, well-armed against the -hardness of the pine-needles, so well-armed in fact that the meal -begins almost immediately. After roaming for a few moments at random -among the scales of the common cradle, most of the young caterpillars -make for the double leaf that served as an axis for the native cylinder -and spread themselves over it at length. Others go to the adjacent -leaves. Here as well as there they fall to; and the gnawed leaf is -hollowed into faint and very narrow grooves, bounded by the veins, -which are left intact. - -From time to time, three or four who have eaten their fill fall into -line and walk in step, but soon separate, each going his own way. This -is practice for the coming processions. If I disturb them ever so -little, they sway the front half of their bodies and wag their heads -with a jerky movement similar to the action of an intermittent spring. - -But the sun reaches the corner of the window where the careful rearing -is in progress. Then, sufficiently refreshed, the little family -retreats to its native soil, the base of the double leaf, gathers into -an irregular group and begins to spin. Its work is a gauze globule of -extreme delicacy, supported on some of the neighbouring leaves. Under -this tent, a very wide-meshed net, a siesta is taken during the hottest -and brightest part of the day. In the afternoon, when the sun has gone -from the window, the flock leaves its shelter, disperses around, -sometimes forming a little procession within a radius of an inch, and -starts browsing again. - -Thus the very moment of hatching proclaims talents which age will -develop without adding to their number. In less than an hour from the -bursting of the egg, the caterpillar is both a processionary and a -spinner. He also flees the light when taking refreshment. We shall soon -find him visiting his grazing-grounds only at night. - -The spinner is very feeble, but so active that in twenty-four hours the -silken globe attains the bulk of a hazel-nut and in a couple of weeks -that of an apple. Nevertheless, it is not the nucleus of the great -establishment in which the winter is to be spent. It is a provisional -shelter, very light and inexpensive in materials. The mildness of the -season makes anything else unnecessary. The young caterpillars freely -gnaw the logs, the poles between which the threads are stretched, that -is to say, the leaves contained within the silken tent. Their house -supplies them at the same time with board and lodging. This excellent -arrangement saves them from having to go out, a dangerous proceeding at -their age. For these puny ones, the hammock is also the larder. - -Nibbled down to their veins, the supporting leaves wither and easily -come unfastened from the branches; and the silken globe becomes a hovel -that crumbles with the first gust of wind. The family then moves on and -goes elsewhere to erect a new tent, lasting no longer than the first. -Even so does the Arab move on, as the pastures around his camel-hide -dwelling become exhausted. These temporary establishments are renewed -several times over, always at greater heights than the last, so much so -that the tribe, which was hatched on the lower branches trailing on the -ground, gradually reaches the higher boughs and sometimes the very -summit of the pine-tree. - -In a few weeks’ time, a first moult replaces the humble fleece of the -start, which is pale-coloured, shaggy and ugly, by another which lacks -neither richness nor elegance. On the dorsal surface, the various -segments, excepting the first three, are adorned with a mosaic of six -little bare patches, of a bright red, which stand out a little above -the dark background of the skin. Two, the largest, are in front, two -behind and one, almost dot-shaped, on either side of the quadrilateral. -The whole is surrounded by a palisade of scarlet bristles, divergent -and lying almost flat. The other hairs, those of the belly and sides, -are longer and whitish. - -In the centre of this crimson marquetry stand two clusters of very -short bristles, gathered into flattened tufts which gleam in the sun -like specks of gold. The length of the caterpillar is now about two -centimetres [6] and his width three or four millimetres. [7] Such is -the costume of middle age, which, like the earlier one, was unknown to -Réaumur. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER II - -THE PINE PROCESSIONARY: THE NEST; THE COMMUNITY - - -November arrives, however, bringing cold weather; the time has come to -build the stout winter tabernacle. High up in the pine the tip of a -bough is chosen, with suitably close-packed and convergent leaves. The -spinners surround it with a spreading network, which bends the adjacent -leaves a little nearer and ends by incorporating them into the fabric. -In this way they obtain an enclosure half silk, half leaves, capable of -withstanding the inclemencies of the weather. - -Early in December the work has increased to the size of a man’s two -fists or more. In its ultimate perfection, it attains a volume of -nearly half a gallon by the end of winter. - -It is roughly egg-shaped, tapering to a certain length below and -extended into a sheath which envelops the supporting branch. The origin -of this silky extension is as follows: every evening between seven and -nine o’clock, weather permitting, the caterpillars leave the nest and -go down the bare part of the bough which forms the pole of the tent. -The road is broad, for this axis is sometimes as wide as the neck of a -claret-bottle. The descent is accomplished without any attempt at order -and always slowly, so much so that the first caterpillars to come out -have not yet dispersed before they are caught up by the others. The -branch is thus covered by a continuous bark of caterpillars, made up of -the whole community, which gradually divides into squads and disperses -to this side and that on the nearest branches to crop their leaves. Now -not one of the caterpillars moves a step without working his spinneret. -Therefore the broad downward path, which on the way back will be the -ascending path, is covered, as the result of constant traffic, with a -multitude of threads forming an unbroken sheath. - -It is obvious that this sheath, in which each caterpillar, passing -backwards and forwards on his nocturnal rambles, leaves a double -thread, is not an indicator laid down with the sole object of -simplifying the journey back to the nest: a mere ribbon would be enough -for that. Its use might well be to strengthen the edifice, to give it -deeper foundations and to join it by a multitude of cables to the -steady branch. - -The whole thing thus consists, above, of the home distended into an -ovoid and, below, of the stalk, the sheath surrounding the support and -adding its resistance to that of the numerous other fastenings. - -Each nest that has not yet had its shape altered by the prolonged -residence of the caterpillars shows in the centre a bulky, milk-white -shell, with around it a wrapper of diaphanous gauze. The central mass, -formed of thickly-woven threads, has for a wall a thick quilt into -which are absorbed, as supports, numbers of leaves, green and intact. -The thickness of this wall may be anything up to three-quarters of an -inch. - -At the top of the dome are round openings, varying greatly in number -and distribution, as wide across as an ordinary lead-pencil. These are -the doors of the house, through which the caterpillars go in and out. -All around the shell are projecting leaves, which the insects’ teeth -have respected. From the tip of each leaf there radiate, in graceful, -undulating curves, threads which, loosely interlaced, form a light -tent, a spacious verandah of careful workmanship, especially in the -upper part. Here we find a broad terrace on which, in the daytime, the -caterpillars come and doze in the sun, heaped one upon the other, with -rounded backs. The network stretching overhead does duty as an awning: -it moderates the heat of the sun’s rays; it also saves the sleepers -from a fall when the bough rocks in the wind. - -Let us take our scissors and rip open the nest from end to end -longitudinally. A wide window opens and allows us to see the -arrangement of the inside. The first thing to strike us is that the -leaves contained in the enclosure are intact and quite sound. The young -caterpillars in their temporary establishments gnaw the leaves within -the silken wrapper to death; they thus have their larder stocked for a -few days without having to quit their shelter in bad weather, a -condition made necessary by their weakness. When they grow stronger and -start working on their winter home, they are very careful not to touch -the leaves. Why these new scruples? - -The reason is evident. If bruised, those leaves, the framework of the -house, would very soon wither and then be blown off with the first -breath of wind. The silken purse, torn from its base, would collapse. -On the other hand, if the leaves are respected, they remain vigorous -and furnish a stout support against the assaults of winter. A solid -fastening is superfluous for the summer tent, which lasts but a day; it -is indispensable to the permanent shelter which will have to bear the -burden of heavy snows and the buffeting of icy winds. Fully alive to -these perils, the spinner of the pine-tree considers himself bound, -however importunate his hunger, not to saw through the rafters of his -house. - -Inside the nest, therefore, opened by my scissors I see a thick arcade -of green leaves, more or less closely wrapped in a silky sheath whence -dangle shreds of cast skin and strings of dried droppings. In short, -this interior is an extremely unpleasant place, a rag-shop and a -sewage-farm in one, and corresponds in no way with the imposing -exterior. All around is a solid wall of quilting and of closely-woven -leaves. There are no chambers, no compartments marked off by -partition-walls. It is a single room, turned into a labyrinth by the -colonnade of green leaves placed in rows one above the other throughout -the oval hall. Here the caterpillars stay when resting, gathered on the -columns, heaped in confused masses. - -When we remove the hopeless tangle at the top, we see the light -filtering in at certain points of the roof. These luminous points -correspond with the openings that communicate with the outer air. The -network that forms a wrapper to the nest has no special exits. To pass -through it in either direction, the caterpillars have only to push the -sparse threads aside slightly. The inner wall, a compact rampart, has -its doors; the flimsy outer veil has none. - -It is in the morning, at about ten o’clock, that the caterpillars leave -their night-apartment and come to take the sun on their terrace, under -the awning which the points of the leaves hold up at a distance. They -spend the whole day there dozing. Motionless, heaped together, they -steep themselves deliciously in warmth and from time to time betray -their bliss by nodding and wagging their heads. At six or seven -o’clock, when it grows dark, the sleepers awake, bestir themselves, -separate and go their several ways over the surface of the nest. - -We now behold an indeed delightful spectacle. Bright-red stripes -meander in every direction over the white sheet of silk. One goes up, -another comes down, a third moves aslant; others form a short -procession. And, as they solemnly walk about in a splendid disorder, -each glues to the ground which it covers the thread that constantly -hangs from its lip. - -Thus is the thickness of the shelter increased by a fine layer added -immediately above the previous structure; thus is the dwelling -strengthened by fresh supports. The adjoining green leaves are taken -into the network and absorbed in the building. If the tiniest bit of -them remains free, curves radiate from that point, increasing the size -of the veil and fastening it at a greater distance. Every evening, -therefore, for an hour or two, great animation reigns on the surface of -the nest, if the weather permits; and the work of consolidating and -thickening the structure is carried on with indefatigable zeal. - -Do they foresee the future, these wary ones who take such precautions -against the rigours of winter? Obviously not. Their few months’ -experience—if indeed experience can be mentioned in connection with a -caterpillar—tells them of savoury bellyfuls of green stuff, of gentle -slumbers in the sun on the terrace of the nest; but nothing hitherto -has made them acquainted with cold, steady rain, with frost, snow and -furious blasts of wind. And these creatures, knowing naught of winter’s -woes, take the same precautions as if they were thoroughly aware of all -that the inclement season holds in store for them. They work away at -their house with an ardour that seems to say: - -“Oh, how nice and warm we shall be in our beds here, nestling one -against the other, when the pine-tree swings aloft its frosted -candelabra! Let us work with a will! Laboremus!” - -Yes, caterpillars, my friends, let us work with a will, great and -small, men and grubs alike, so that we may fall asleep peacefully; you -with the torpor that makes way for your transformation into Moths, we -with that last sleep which breaks off life only to renew it. Laboremus! - -Anxious to watch my caterpillars’ habits in detail, without having to -sally forth by lantern-light, often in bad weather, to see what happens -in the pine-trees at the end of the enclosure, I have installed -half-a-dozen nests in a greenhouse, a modest, glazed shelter which, -though hardly any warmer than the air outside, at least affords -protection from the wind and rain. Fixed in the sand, at a height of -about eighteen inches, by the base of the bough that serves as both an -axis and a framework, each nest receives for rations a bundle of little -pine-branches, which are renewed as soon as they are consumed. I take -my lantern every evening and pay my boarders a visit. This is the way -in which most of my facts are obtained. - -After the day’s work comes the evening meal. The caterpillars descend -from the nest, adding a few more threads to the silvery sheath of the -support, and reach the posy of fresh green stuff which is lying quite -near. It is a magnificent sight to see the red-coated band lined up in -twos and threes on each needle and in ranks so closely formed that the -green sprigs of the bunch bend under the load. - -The diners, all motionless, all poking their heads forward, nibble in -silence, placidly. Their broad black foreheads gleam in the rays of the -lantern. A shower of granules drops on the sand below. These are the -residues of easy-going stomachs, only too ready to digest their food. -By to-morrow morning the soil will have disappeared under a greenish -layer of this intestinal hail. Yes, indeed, it is a sight to see, one -far more stimulating than that of the Silk-worms’ mess-room. Young and -old, we are all so much interested in it that our evenings almost -invariably end in a visit to the greenhouse caterpillars. - -The meal is prolonged far into the night. Satisfied at last, some -sooner, some later, they go back to the nest, where for a little -longer, feeling their silk-glands filled, they continue spinning on the -surface. These hard workers would scruple to cross the white carpet -without contributing a few threads. It is getting on for one or even -two o’clock in the morning when the last of the band goes indoors. - -My duty as a foster-father is daily to renew the bunch of sprigs, which -are shorn to the last leaf; on the other hand, my duty as an historian -is to enquire to what extent the diet can be varied. The district -supplies me with Processionaries on the Scotch pine, the maritime pine -and the Aleppo pine indifferently, but never on the other Coniferæ. Yet -one would think that any resin-scented leaf ought to suit. So says -chemical analysis. - -We must mistrust the chemist’s retort when it pokes its nose into the -kitchen. It may succeed in making butter out of tallow-candles and -brandy out of potatoes; but, when it tells us that the products are -identical, we shall do well to refuse these abominations. Science, -astonishingly rich as it is in poison, will never provide us with -anything fit to eat, because, though the raw substance falls to a large -extent within its domain, that same substance escapes its methods the -moment that it is wanted organized, divided and subdivided indefinitely -by the process of life, as needed by the stomach, whose requirements -are not to be met by measured doses of our reagents. The raw material -of cell and fibre may perhaps be artificially obtained, some day; cell -and fibre themselves, never. There’s the rub with your chemical -feeding. - -The caterpillars loudly proclaim the insurmountable difficulty of the -problem. Relying on my chemical data, I offer them the different -substitutes for the pine growing in my enclosure: the spruce, the yew, -the thuja, the juniper, the cypress. What! Am I asking them, Pine -Caterpillars, to bite into that? They will take good care not to, -despite the tempting resinous smell! They would die of hunger rather -than touch it! One conifer and one only is excepted: the cedar. My -charges browse upon its leaves with no appreciable repugnance. Why the -cedar and not the others? I do not know. The caterpillar’s stomach, -fastidious as our own, has its secrets. - -Let us pass to other tests. I have just slit open longitudinally a nest -whose internal structure I want to explore. Owing to the natural -shrinkage of the split swan’s-down, the cleft reaches two fingers’ -breadth in the centre and tapers at the top and bottom. What will the -spinners do in the presence of such a disaster? The operation is -performed by day, while the caterpillars are slumbering in heaps upon -the dome. As the living-room is deserted at this time, I can cut boldly -with the scissors without risk of damaging any part of the population. - -My ravages do not wake the sleepers: all day long not one appears upon -the breach. This indifference looks as though it were due to the fact -that the danger is not yet known. Things will be different to-night, -when the busy work begins again. However dull they may be, the -caterpillars will certainly notice that huge window which freely admits -the deadly draughts of winter; and, possessing any amount of padding, -they will crowd round the dangerous gap and stop it up in a trice. Thus -do we argue, forgetting the animal’s intellectual darkness. - -What really happens is that, when night falls, the indifference of the -caterpillars remains as great as ever. The breach in the tent provokes -not a sign of excitement. They move to and fro on the surface of the -nest; they work, they spin as usual. There is no change, absolutely -none, in their behaviour. When the road covered chances to bring some -of them to the brink of the ravine, we see no alacrity on their part, -no sign of anxiety, no attempt to close up the two edges of the slit. -They simply strive to accomplish the difficult crossing and to continue -their stroll as though they were walking on a perfect web. And they -manage it somehow or other, by fixing the thread as far as the length -of their body permits. - -Having once crossed the gulf, they pursue their way imperturbably, -without stopping any more at the breach. Others come upon the scene -and, using the threads already laid as foot-bridges, pass over the rent -and walk on, leaving their own thread as they go. Thus the first -night’s work results in the laying over the cleft of a filmy gauze, -hardly perceptible, but just sufficient for the traffic of the colony. -The same thing is repeated on the nights that follow; and the crevice -ends by being closed with a scanty sort of Spider’s web. And that is -all. - -There is no improvement by the end of the winter. The window made by my -scissors is still wide open, though thinly veiled; its black spindle -shape shows from the top of the nest to the bottom. There is no darn in -the split texture, no piece of swan’s-down let in between the two edges -to restore the roof to its original state. If the accident had happened -in the open air and not under glass, the foolish spinners would -probably have died of cold in their cracked house. - -Twice renewed with the same results, this test proves that the Pine -Caterpillars are not alive to the danger of their split dwelling. -Expert spinners though they be, they seem as unconscious of the ruin of -their work as the spools in a factory are of a broken thread. They -could easily make good the damage by stopping up the breach with the -silk that is lavished elsewhere without urgent need; they could weave -upon it a material as thick and solid as the rest of the walls. But no, -they placidly continue their habitual task; they spin as they spun -yesterday and as they will spin to-morrow, strengthening the parts that -are already strong, thickening what is already thick enough; and not -one thinks of stopping the disastrous gap. To let a piece into that -hole would mean weaving the tent all over again from the beginning; and -no insect, however industrious, goes back to what it has already done. - -I have often called attention to this feature in animal psychology; -notably I have described the ineptitude of the caterpillar of the Great -Peacock Moth. [8] When the experimenter lops the top off the -complicated eel-trap which forms the pointed end of the cocoon, this -caterpillar spends the silk remaining to him in work of secondary -importance, instead of making good the series of cones, each fitting -into the other, which are so essential to the hermit’s protection. He -continues his normal task imperturbably, as though nothing out of the -way had taken place. Even so does the spinner in the pine-tree act with -his burst tent. - -Your foster-parent must perpetrate yet another piece of mischief, O my -Processionary; but this time it shall be to your advantage! It does not -take me long to perceive that the nests intended to last through the -winter often contain a population much greater than that of the -temporary shelters woven by the very young caterpillars. I also notice -that, when they have attained their ultimate dimensions, these nests -differ very considerably in size. The largest of them are equal to five -or six of the smallest. What is the cause of these variations? - -Certainly, if all the eggs turned out well, the scaly cylinder -containing the laying of a single mother would be enough to fill a -splendid purse: there are three hundred enamelled beads here for -hatching. But in families which swarm unduly an enormous waste always -takes places and restores the balance of things; if the called are -legion, the chosen are a well thinned-out troop, as is proved by the -Cicada, the Praying Mantis [9] and the Cricket. - -The Pine Processionary, another crucible of organic matter of which -various devourers take advantage, is also reduced in numbers -immediately after the hatching. The delicate mouthful has shrunk to a -few dozens of survivors around the light globular network in which the -family passes the sunny autumn days. Soon they will have to be thinking -of the stoutly-built winter tent. At such a time, it would be a boon if -they could be many, for from union springs strength. - -I suspect an easy method of fusion among a few families. To serve them -as a guide in their peregrinations about the tree, the caterpillars -have their silk ribbon, which they follow on their return, after -describing a bend. They may also miss it and strike another, one -differing in no respect from their own. This new ribbon marks the way -to some nest situated in the neighbourhood. The strayed caterpillars, -failing to distinguish it from their own ribbon, follow it -conscientiously and in this manner end by reaching a strange dwelling. -Suppose them to be peacefully received: what will happen? - -Once fused, the several groups assembled by the accident of the path -will form a powerful city, fitted to produce great works; the concerted -weaklings will give rise to a strong, united body. This would explain -the thickly-populated, bulky nests situated so near to others that have -remained puny. The former would be the work of a syndicate -incorporating the interests of spinners collected from different parts; -the latter would belong to families left in isolation by the luck of -the road. - -It remains to be seen whether the chance-comers, guided by a strange -ribbon, meet with a good reception in the new abode. The experiment is -easily made upon the nests in the greenhouse. In the evening, at the -hours devoted to grazing, I remove with a pruning-shears the different -little branches covered with the population of one nest and lay them on -the provisions of the neighbouring nest, which provisions are also -overrun with caterpillars. Or I can make shorter work of it by taking -the whole bunch, well covered with the troop, of the first pouch and -planting it right beside the bunch of the second, so that the leaves of -the two mingle a little at the edges. - -There is not the least quarrelling between the real proprietors and the -new arrivals. Both go on peacefully browsing, as though nothing had -happened. And all without hesitation, when bed-time comes, make for the -nest, like brothers who have always lived together; all do some -spinning before retiring to rest, thicken the blanket a little and are -then swallowed up in the dormitory. By repeating the same operation -next day and, if necessary, the day after, in order to collect the -laggards, I succeed without the slightest difficulty in wholly -depopulating the first nest and transferring all its caterpillars to -the second. - -I venture to do something better still. The same method of -transportation allows me to quadruple the output of a spinning-mill by -adding to it the workers of three similar establishments. And, if I -limit myself to this increase, the reason is not that any confusion -manifests itself in this shifting of quarters, but that I see no bounds -to my experiment, so cheerfully do the caterpillars accept any addition -to their number. The more spinners, the more spinning: a very judicious -rule of conduct. - -Let us add that the caterpillars which have been transported cherish no -regrets for their old house. They are quite at home with the others and -make no attempt to regain the nest whence they were banished by my -artifices. It is not the distance that discourages them, for the empty -dwelling is only half a yard away at most. If, for the purpose of my -studies, I wish to restock the deserted nest, I am obliged once more to -resort to transportation, which invariably proves successful. - -Later, in February, when an occasional fine day allows of long -processions on the walls and the sand-covered shelf of the greenhouse, -I am able to watch the fusing of two groups without personally -intervening. All that I have to do is patiently to follow the -evolutions of a file on the march. I see it sometimes, after leaving -one nest, enter a different one, guided by some fortuitous change of -route. Thenceforward the strangers form part of the community on the -same footing as the others. In a like fashion, when the caterpillars -walk abroad upon the tree at night, the scanty groups of the outset -must increase and gather the number of spinners which an extensive -building requires. - -Everything for everybody. So says the Pine Processionary, nibbling his -leaves without quarrelling in the least over his neighbours’ mouthfuls, -or else entering—and being always peacefully received—another’s home -precisely as he would his own. Whether a member of the tribe or a -stranger, he finds room in the refectory and room in the dormitory. The -others’ nest is his nest. The others’ grazing-ground is his -grazing-ground, in which he is entitled to his fair share, one neither -greater nor smaller than the share of his habitual or casual -companions. - -Each for all and all for each. So says the Processionary, who every -evening spends his little capital of silk on enlarging a shelter that -is often new to him. What would he do with his puny skein, if alone? -Hardly anything. But there are hundreds and hundreds of them in the -spinning-mill; and the result of their infinitesimal contributions, -woven into a common stuff, is a thick blanket capable of resisting the -winter. In working for himself, each works for the others; and these on -their side work as zealously for each. O lucky animals that know -nothing of property, the mother of strife! O enviable cenobites, who -practise the strictest communism! - -These habits of the caterpillars invite a few reflections. Generous -minds, richer in illusions than in logic, set communism before us as -the sovran cure for human ills. Is it practicable among mankind? At all -times there have been, there still are and there always will be, -fortunately, associations in which it is possible to forget in common -some small part of the hardships of life; but is it possible to -generalize? - -The caterpillars of the pine can give us much valuable information in -this respect. Let us have no false shame: our material needs are shared -by the animals; they struggle as we do to take part in the general -banquet of the living; and the manner in which they solve the problem -of existence is not to be despised. Let us then ask ourselves what are -the reasons that cause cenobitism to flourish among the -Processionaries. - -One answer suggests itself inevitably, to begin with: the food problem, -that terrible disturber of the world’s tranquillity, is here -non-existent. Peace reigns as soon as the stomach is certain of being -filled without a struggle. A pine-needle or even less suffices for the -caterpillar’s meal; and that needle is always there, waiting to be -eaten, is there in inexhaustible numbers, almost on the threshold of -the home. When dinner-time arrives, we caterpillars go out, we take the -air, we walk a little in procession; then, without laborious seeking, -without jealous rivalries, we seat ourselves at the banquet. The table -is plentifully spread and will never be bare, so large and generous is -the pine; all that we need do is, from one evening to the next, to move -our dining-room a little farther on. Consequently, there are no present -and no future cares on the subject of provisions: the caterpillar finds -food to eat almost as easily as he finds air to breathe. - -The atmosphere feeds all creatures on air with a bounty which it is not -necessary to crave. All unknown to itself, without the agency of any -effort or labour, the animal receives its share of the most vital of -elements. The niggardly earth, on the contrary, surrenders its gifts -only when laboriously forced. Not fruitful enough to satisfy every -need, it leaves the division of the food to the fierce eagerness of -competition. - -The mouthful to be procured engenders war between consumers. Look at -two Ground-beetles coming at the same time upon a bit of Earth-worm. -Which of the two shall have the morsel? The matter shall be decided by -battle, desperate, ferocious battle. With these famished ones, who eat -at long intervals and do not always eat their fill, communal life is -out of the question. - -The Pine Caterpillar is free from these woes. He finds the earth as -generous as the atmosphere; he finds eating as easy as breathing. Other -instances of perfect communism might be named. All occur among species -living on a vegetable diet, provided however that victuals are -plentiful and obtainable without a hard search. An animal diet, on the -contrary, a prey, always more or less difficult to secure, banishes -cenobitism. Where the portion is too small for one, what excuse would -there be for guests? - -The Pine Processionary knows nothing of privation. He knows as little -of family ties, another source of unrelenting competition. To make -ourselves a place in the sun is but a half of the struggle imposed upon -us by life: we must also, as far as possible, prepare a place for our -successors; and, as the preservation of the species is of greater -importance than that of the individual, the struggle for the future is -even fiercer than the struggle for the present. Every mother regards -the welfare of her offspring as her primary law. Perish all else, -provided that the brood flourish! Every one for himself is her maxim, -imposed by the rigours of the general conflict; every one for himself -is her rule, the safeguard of the future. - -With maternity and its imperious duties, communism ceases to be -practicable. At first sight, certain Hymenoptera [10] seem to declare -the contrary. We find, for instance, the Mason-bees of the Sheds [11] -nesting in myriads on the same tiles and building a monumental edifice -at which all the mothers work. Is this really a community? Not at all. -It is a city in which the inhabitants have neighbours, not -collaborators. Each mother kneads her pots of honey; each amasses a -dowry for her offspring and nothing but a dowry for her offspring; each -wears herself out for her family and only for her family. Oh, it would -be a serious business if some one merely came and alighted on the brim -of a cell that did not belong to her; the mistress of the house would -give her to understand, by means of a sound drubbing, that manners such -as those are not to be endured! She would have to skedaddle very -quickly, unless she wanted a fight. The rights of property are sacred -here. - -Even the much more social Hive-bee is no exception to the rule of -maternal egoism. To each hive one mother. If there be two, civil war -breaks out and one of them perishes by the other’s dagger or else quits -the country, followed by a part of the swarm. Although virtually fit to -lay eggs, the other Bees, to the number of some twenty thousand, -renounce maternity and vow themselves to celibacy in order to bring up -the prodigious family of the one and only mother. Here, communism -reigns, under certain aspects; but, for the immense majority, -motherhood is forthwith abolished. - -Even so with the Wasps, the Ants, the Termites [12] and the various -social insects. Life in common costs them dear. Thousands and thousands -remain incomplete and become the humble auxiliaries of a few who are -sexually endowed. But, whenever maternity is the general portion, -individualism reappears, as among the Mason-bees, notwithstanding their -show of communism. - -The Pine Caterpillars are exempt from the duty of preserving the race. -They have no sex, or rather are obscurely preparing one, as undecided -and rudimentary as all that is not yet but must one day be. With the -blossoming of maternity, that flower of adult age, individual property -will not fail to appear, attended by its rivalries. The insect now so -peaceable will, like the others, have its displays of selfish -intolerance. The mothers will isolate themselves, jealous of the double -pine-needle in which the cylinder of eggs is to be fixed; the males, -fluttering their wings, will challenge one another for the possession -of the coveted bride. It is not a serious struggle among these -easy-going ones, but still it presents a faint picture of those mortal -affrays which the mating so often produces. Love rules the world by -battle; it too is a hotbed of competition. - -The caterpillar, being almost sexless, is indifferent to amorous -instincts. This is the first condition for living pacifically in -common. But it is not enough. The perfect concord of the community -demands among all its members an equal division of strength and talent, -of taste and capacity for work. This condition, which perhaps is the -most important of all, is fulfilled preeminently. If there were -hundreds, if there were thousands of them in the same nest, there would -be no difference between any of them. - -They are all the same size and equally strong; all wear the same dress; -all possess the same gift for spinning; and all with equal zeal expend -the contents of their silk-glands for the general welfare. No one -idles, no one lounges along when there is work to be done. With no -other stimulus than the satisfaction of doing their duty, every -evening, when the weather is favourable, they all spin with equal -industry and drain to the last drop their reservoirs of silk, which -have become distended during the day. In their tribe there is no -question of skilled or unskilled, of strong or weak, of abstemious or -gluttonous; there are neither hard-workers nor idlers, neither savers -nor spendthrifts. What one does the others do, with a like zeal, no -more and no less well. It is a splendid world of equality truly, but, -alas, a world of caterpillars! - -If it suited us to go to school to the Pine Processionary, we should -soon see the inanity of our levelling and communistic theories. -Equality is a magnificent political catchword, but little more. Where -is it, this equality of ours? In our social groups, could we find as -many as two persons exactly equal in strength, health, intelligence, -capacity for work, foresight and all the other gifts which are the -great factors of prosperity? Where should we find anything analogous to -the exact parity prevailing among caterpillars? Nowhere. Inequality is -our law. And a good thing, too. - -A sound which is invariably the same, however often multiplied, does -not constitute a harmony. We need dissimilarities, sounds loud and -soft, deep and shrill; we need even discords which, by their harshness, -throw into relief the sweetness of the chords. In the same way, human -societies are harmonious only with the aid of contraries. If the dreams -of our levellers could be realized, we should sink to the monotony of -the caterpillar societies; art, science, progress and the lofty flights -of the imagination would slumber indefinitely in the dead calm of -mediocrity. - -Besides, if this general levelling were effected, we should still be -very far from communism. To achieve that, we should have to do away -with the family, as the caterpillars and Plato teach us; we should need -abundance of food obtained without any effort. So long as a mouthful of -bread is difficult to acquire, demanding an industry and labour of -which we are not all equally capable, so long as the family remains the -sacred reason for our foresight, so long will the generous theory of -all for each and each for all be absolutely impracticable. - -And then should we gain by abolishing the struggle for the daily bread -of ourselves and those dependent on us? It is very doubtful. We should -be getting rid of this world’s two great joys, work and the family, the -only joys that give any value to life; we should be stifling exactly -that which makes our greatness. And the result of this bestial -sacrilege would be a community of human caterpillars. Thus does the -Pine Processionary teach us by his example. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER III - -THE PINE PROCESSIONARY: THE PROCESSION - - -Drover Dingdong’s Sheep followed the Ram which Panurge had maliciously -thrown overboard and leapt nimbly into the sea, one after the other, -“for you know,” says Rabelais, “it is the nature of the sheep always to -follow the first, wheresoever it goes; which makes Aristotle mark them -for the most silly and foolish animals in the world.” [13] - -The Pine Caterpillar is even more sheep-like, not from foolishness, but -from necessity: where the first goes all the others go, in a regular -string, with not an empty space between them. - -They proceed in single file, in a continuous row, each touching with -its head the rear of the one in front of it. The complex twists and -turns described in his vagaries by the caterpillar leading the van are -scrupulously described by all the others. No Greek theoria winding its -way to the Eleusinian festivals was ever more orderly. Hence the name -of Processionary given to the gnawer of the pine. - -His character is complete when we add that he is a rope-dancer all his -life long: he walks only on the tight-rope, a silken rail placed in -position as he advances. The caterpillar who chances to be at the head -of the procession dribbles his thread without ceasing and fixes it on -the path which his fickle preferences cause him to take. The thread is -so tiny that the eye, though armed with a magnifying-glass, suspects it -rather than sees it. - -But a second caterpillar steps on the slender footboard and doubles it -with his thread; a third trebles it; and all the others, however many -there be, add the sticky spray from their spinnerets, so much so that, -when the procession has marched by, there remains, as a record of its -passing, a narrow white ribbon whose dazzling whiteness shimmers in the -sun. Very much more sumptuous than ours, their system of road-making -consists in upholstering with silk instead of macadamizing. We sprinkle -our roads with broken stones and level them by the pressure of a heavy -steam-roller; they lay over their paths a soft satin rail, a work of -general interest to which each contributes his thread. - -What is the use of all this luxury? Could they not, like other -caterpillars, walk about without these costly preparations? I see two -reasons for their mode of progression. It is night when the -Processionaries sally forth to browse upon the pine-leaves. They leave -their nest, situated at the top of a bough, in profound darkness; they -go down the denuded pole till they come to the nearest branch that has -not yet been gnawed, a branch which becomes lower and lower by degrees -as the consumers finish stripping the upper storeys; they climb up this -untouched branch and spread over the green needles. - -When they have had their suppers and begin to feel the keen night air, -the next thing is to return to the shelter of the house. Measured in a -straight line, the distance is not great, hardly an arm’s length; but -it cannot be covered in this way on foot. The caterpillars have to -climb down from one crossing to the next, from the needle to the twig, -from the twig to the branch, from the branch to the bough and from the -bough, by a no less angular path, to go back home. It is useless to -rely upon sight as a guide on this long and erratic journey. The -Processionary, it is true, has five ocular specks on either side of his -head, but they are so infinitesimal, so difficult to make out through -the magnifying-glass, that we cannot attribute to them any great power -of vision. Besides, what good would those short-sighted lenses be in -the absence of light, in black darkness? - -It is equally useless to think of the sense of smell. Has the -Processional any olfactory powers or has he not? I do not know. Without -giving a positive answer to the question, I can at least declare that -his sense of smell is exceedingly dull and in no way suited to help him -find his way. This is proved, in my experiments, by a number of hungry -caterpillars that, after a long fast, pass close beside a pine-branch -without betraying any eagerness or showing a sign of stopping. It is -the sense of touch that tells them where they are. So long as their -lips do not chance to light upon the pasture-land, not one of them -settles there, though he be ravenous. They do not hasten to food which -they have scented from afar; they stop at a branch which they encounter -on their way. - -Apart from sight and smell, what remains to guide them in returning to -the nest? The ribbon spun on the road. In the Cretan labyrinth, Theseus -would have been lost but for the clue of thread with which Ariadne -supplied him. The spreading maze of the pine-needles is, especially at -night, as inextricable a labyrinth as that constructed for Minos. The -Processionary finds his way through it, without the possibility of a -mistake, by the aid of his bit of silk. At the time for going home, -each easily recovers either his own thread or one or other of the -neighbouring threads, spread fanwise by the diverging herd; one by one -the scattered tribe line up on the common ribbon, which started from -the nest; and the sated caravan finds its way back to the manor with -absolute certainty. - -Longer expeditions are made in the daytime, even in winter, if the -weather be fine. Our caterpillars then come down from the tree, venture -on the ground, march in procession for a distance of thirty yards or -so. The object of these sallies is not to look for food, for the native -pine-tree is far from being exhausted: the shorn branches hardly count -amid the vast leafage. Moreover, the caterpillars observe complete -abstinence till nightfall. The trippers have no other object than a -constitutional, a pilgrimage to the outskirts to see what these are -like, possibly an inspection of the locality where, later on, they mean -to bury themselves in the sand for their metamorphosis. - -It goes without saying that, in these greater evolutions, the guiding -cord is not neglected. It is now more necessary than ever. All -contribute to it from the produce of their spinnerets, as is the -invariable rule whenever there is a progression. Not one takes a step -forward without fixing to the path the thread hanging from his lip. - -If the series forming the procession be at all long, the ribbon is -dilated sufficiently to make it easy to find; nevertheless, on the -homeward journey, it is not picked up without some hesitation. For -observe that the caterpillars when on the march never turn completely; -to wheel round on their tight-rope is a method utterly unknown to them. -In order therefore to regain the road already covered, they have to -describe a zig-zag whose windings and extent are determined by the -leader’s fancy. Hence come gropings and roamings which are sometimes -prolonged to the point of causing the herd to spend the night out of -doors. It is not a serious matter. They collect into a motionless -cluster. To-morrow the search will start afresh and will sooner or -later be successful. Oftener still the winding curve meets the -guide-thread at the first attempt. As soon as the first caterpillar has -the rail between his legs, all hesitation ceases; and the band makes -for the nest with hurried steps. - -The use of this silk-tapestried roadway is evident from a second point -of view. To protect himself against the severity of the winter which he -has to face when working, the Pine Caterpillar weaves himself a shelter -in which he spends his bad hours, his days of enforced idleness. Alone, -with none but the meagre resources of his silk-glands, he would find -difficulty in protecting himself on the top of a branch buffeted by the -winds. A substantial dwelling, proof against snow, gales and icy fogs, -requires the cooperation of a large number. Out of the individual’s -piled-up atoms, the community obtains a spacious and durable -establishment. - -The enterprise takes a long time to complete. Every evening, when the -weather permits, the building has to be strengthened and enlarged. It -is indispensable, therefore, that the corporation of workers should not -be dissolved while the stormy season continues and the insects are -still in the caterpillar stage. But, without special arrangements, each -nocturnal expedition at grazing-time would be a cause of separation. At -that moment of appetite for food there is a return to individualism. -The caterpillars become more or less scattered, settling singly on the -branches around; each browses his pine-needle separately. How are they -to find one another afterwards and become a community again? - -The several threads left on the road make this easy. With that guide, -every caterpillar, however far he may be, comes back to his companions -without ever missing the way. They come hurrying from a host of twigs, -from here, from there, from above, from below; and soon the scattered -legion reforms into a group. The silk thread is something more than a -road-making expedient: it is the social bond, the system that keeps the -members of the community indissolubly united. - -At the head of every procession, long or short, goes a first -caterpillar whom I will call the leader of the march or file, though -the word leader, which I use for want of a better, is a little out of -place here. Nothing, in fact, distinguishes this caterpillar from the -others: it just depends upon the order in which they happen to line up; -and mere chance brings him to the front. Among the Processionaries, -every captain is an officer of fortune. The actual leader leads; -presently he will be a subaltern, if the file should break up in -consequence of some accident and be formed anew in a different order. - -His temporary functions give him an attitude of his own. While the -others follow passively in a close file, he, the captain, tosses -himself about and with an abrupt movement flings the front of his body -hither and thither. As he marches ahead he seems to be seeking his way. -Does he in point of fact explore the country? Does he choose the most -practicable places? Or are his hesitations merely the result of the -absence of a guiding thread on ground that has not yet been covered? -His subordinates follow very placidly, reassured by the cord which they -hold between their legs; he, deprived of that support, is uneasy. - -Why cannot I read what passes under his black, shiny skull, so like a -drop of tar? To judge by actions, there is here a small dose of -discernment which is able, after experimenting, to recognize excessive -roughnesses, over-slippery surfaces, dusty places that offer no -resistance and, above all, the threads left by other excursionists. -This is all or nearly all that my long acquaintance with the -Processionaries has taught me as to their mentality. Poor brains, -indeed; poor creatures, whose commonwealth has its safety hanging upon -a thread! - -The processions vary greatly in length. The finest that I have seen -manœuvring on the ground measured twelve or thirteen yards and numbered -about three hundred caterpillars, drawn up with absolute precision in a -wavy line. But, if there were only two in a row, the order would still -be perfect: the second touches and follows the first. - -By February I have processions of all lengths in the greenhouse. What -tricks can I play upon them? I see only two: to do away with the -leader; and to cut the thread. - -The suppression of the leader of the file produces nothing striking. If -the thing is done without creating a disturbance, the procession does -not alter its ways at all. The second caterpillar, promoted to captain, -knows the duties of his rank off-hand: he selects and leads, or rather -he hesitates and gropes. - -The breaking of the silk ribbon is not very important either. I remove -a caterpillar from the middle of the file. With my scissors, so as not -to cause a commotion in the ranks, I cut the piece of ribbon on which -he stood and clear away every thread of it. As a result of this breach, -the procession acquires two marching leaders, each independent of the -other. It may be that the one in the rear joins the file ahead of him, -from which he is separated by but a slender interval; in that case, -things return to their original condition. More frequently, the two -parts do not become reunited. In that case, we have two distinct -processions, each of which wanders where it pleases and diverges from -the other. Nevertheless, both will be able to return to the nest by -discovering sooner or later, in the course of their peregrinations, the -ribbon on the other side of the break. - -These two experiments are only moderately interesting. I have thought -out another, one more fertile in possibilities. I propose to make the -caterpillars describe a close circuit, after the ribbons running from -it and liable to bring about a change of direction have been destroyed. -The locomotive engine pursues its invariable course so long as it is -not shunted on to a branch-line. If the Processionaries find the silken -rail always clear in front of them, with no switches anywhere, will -they continue on the same track, will they persist in following a road -that never comes to an end? What we have to do is to produce this -circuit, which is unknown under ordinary conditions, by artificial -means. - -The first idea that suggests itself is to seize with the forceps the -silk ribbon at the back of the train, to bend it without shaking it and -to bring the end of it ahead of the file. If the caterpillar marching -in the van steps upon it, the thing is done: the others will follow him -faithfully. The operation is very simple in theory but very difficult -in practice and produces no useful results. The ribbon, which is -extremely slight, breaks under the weight of the grains of sand that -stick to it and are lifted with it. If it does not break, the -caterpillars at the back, however delicately we may go to work, feel a -disturbance which makes them curl up or even let go. - -There is a yet greater difficulty: the leader refuses the ribbon laid -before him; the cut end makes him distrustful. Failing to see the -regular, uninterrupted road, he slants off to the right or left, he -escapes at a tangent. If I try to interfere and to bring him back to -the path of my choosing, he persists in his refusal, shrivels up, does -not budge; and soon the whole procession is in confusion. We will not -insist: the method is a poor one, very wasteful of effort for at best a -problematical success. - -We ought to interfere as little as possible and obtain a natural closed -circuit. Can it be done? Yes. It lies in our power, without the least -meddling, to see a procession march along a perfect circular track. I -owe this result, which is eminently deserving of our attention, to pure -chance. - -On the shelf with the layer of sand in which the nests are planted -stand some big palm-vases measuring nearly a yard and a half in -circumference at the top. The caterpillars often scale the sides and -climb up to the moulding which forms a cornice around the opening. This -place suits them for their processions, perhaps because of the absolute -firmness of the surface, where there is no fear of landslides, as on -the loose, sandy soil below; and also, perhaps, because of the -horizontal position, which is favorable to repose after the fatigue of -the ascent. It provides me with a circular track all ready-made. I have -nothing to do but wait for an occasion propitious to my plans. This -occasion is not long in coming. - -On the 30th of January, 1896, a little before twelve o’clock in the -day, I discover a numerous troop making their way up and gradually -reaching the popular cornice. Slowly, in single file, the caterpillars -climb the great vase, mount the ledge and advance in regular -procession, while others are constantly arriving and continuing the -series. I wait for the string to close up, that is to say, for the -leader, who keeps following the circular moulding, to return to the -point from which he started. My object is achieved in a quarter of an -hour. The closed circuit is realized magnificently, in something very -nearly approaching a circle. - -The next thing is to get rid of the rest of the ascending column, which -would disturb the fine order of the procession by an excess of -newcomers; it is also important that we should do away with all the -silken paths, both new and old, that can put the cornice into -communication with the ground. With a thick hair-pencil I sweep away -the surplus climbers; with a big brush, one that leaves no smell behind -it—for this might afterwards prove confusing—I carefully rub down the -vase and get rid of every thread which the caterpillars have laid on -the march. When these preparations are finished, a curious sight awaits -us. - -In the uninterrupted circular procession there is no longer a leader. -Each caterpillar is preceded by another on whose heels he follows, -guided by the silk track, the work of the whole party; he again has a -companion close behind him, following him in the same orderly way. And -this is repeated without variation throughout the length of the chain. -None commands, or rather none modifies the trail according to his -fancy; all obey, trusting in the guide who ought normally to lead the -march and who in reality has been abolished by my trickery. - -From the first circuit of the edge of the tub the rail of silk has been -laid in position and is soon turned into a narrow ribbon by the -procession, which never ceases dribbling its thread as it goes. The -rail is simply doubled and has no branches anywhere, for my brush has -destroyed them all. What will the caterpillars do on this deceptive, -closed path? Will they walk endlessly round and round until their -strength gives out entirely? - -The old schoolmen were fond of quoting Buridan’s [14] Ass, that famous -Donkey who, when placed between two bundles of hay, starved to death -because he was unable to decide in favour of either by breaking the -equilibrium between two equal but opposite attractions. They slandered -the worthy animal. The Ass, who is no more foolish than any one else, -would reply to the logical snare by feasting off both bundles. Will my -caterpillars show a little of his mother wit? Will they, after many -attempts, be able to break the equilibrium of their closed circuit, -which keeps them on a road without a turning? Will they make up their -minds to swerve to this side or that, which is the only method of -reaching their bundle of hay, the green branch yonder, quite near, not -two feet off? - -I thought that they would and I was wrong. I said to myself: - -“The procession will go on turning for some time, for an hour, two -hours perhaps; then the caterpillars will perceive their mistake. They -will abandon the deceptive road and make their descent somewhere or -other.” - -That they should remain up there, hard pressed by hunger and the lack -of cover, when nothing prevented them from going away, seemed to me -inconceivable imbecility. Facts, however, forced me to accept the -incredible. Let us describe them in detail. - -The circular procession begins, as I have said, on the 30th of January, -about midday, in splendid weather. The caterpillars march at an even -pace, each touching the stern of the one in front of him. The unbroken -chain eliminates the leader with his changes of direction; and all -follow mechanically, as faithful to their circle as are the hands of a -watch. The headless file has no liberty left, no will; it has become -mere clock-work. And this continues for hours and hours. My success -goes far beyond my wildest suspicions. I stand amazed at it, or rather -I am stupefied. - -Meanwhile, the multiplied circuits change the original rail into a -superb ribbon a twelfth of an inch broad. I can easily see it -glittering on the red ground of the pot. The day is drawing to a close -and no alteration has yet taken place in the position of the trail. A -striking proof confirms this. - -The trajectory is not a plane curve, but one which, at a certain point, -deviates and goes down a little way to the lower surface of the -cornice, returning to the top some eight inches farther. I marked these -two points of deviation in pencil on the vase at the outset. Well, all -that afternoon and, more conclusive still, on the following days, right -to the end of this mad dance, I see the string of caterpillars dip -under the ledge at the first point and come to the top again at the -second. Once the first thread is laid, the road to be pursued is -permanently established. - -If the road does not vary, the speed does. I measure nine centimetres -[15] a minute as the average distance covered. But there are more or -less lengthy halts; the pace slackens at times, especially when the -temperature falls. At ten o’clock in the evening the walk is little -more than a lazy swaying of the body. I foresee an early halt, in -consequence of the cold, of fatigue and doubtless also of hunger. - -Grazing-time has arrived. The caterpillars have come crowding from all -the nests in the greenhouse to browse upon the pine-branches planted by -myself beside the silken purses. Those in the garden do the same, for -the temperature is mild. The others, lined up along the earthenware -cornice, would gladly take part in the feast; they are bound to have an -appetite after a ten hours’ walk. The branch stands green and tempting -not a hand’s breadth away. To reach it they need but go down; and the -poor wretches, foolish slaves of their ribbon that they are, cannot -make up their minds to do so. I leave the famished ones at half-past -ten, persuaded that they will take counsel with their pillow and that -on the morrow things will have resumed their ordinary course. - -I was wrong. I was expecting too much of them when I accorded them that -faint gleam of intelligence which the tribulations of a distressful -stomach ought, one would think, to have aroused. I visit them at dawn. -They are lined up as on the day before, but motionless. When the air -grows a little warmer, they shake off their torpor, revive and start -walking again. The circular procession begins anew, like that which I -have already seen. There is nothing more and nothing less to be noted -in their machine-like obstinacy. - -This time it is a bitter night. A cold snap has supervened, was indeed -foretold in the evening by the garden caterpillars, who refused to come -out despite appearances which to my duller senses seemed to promise a -continuation of the fine weather. At daybreak the rosemary-walks are -all asparkle with rime and for the second time this year there is a -sharp frost. The large pond in the garden is frozen over. What can the -caterpillars in the conservatory be doing? Let us go and see. - -All are ensconced in their nests, except the stubborn processionists on -the edge of the vase, who, deprived of shelter as they are, seem to -have spent a very bad night. I find them clustered in two heaps, -without any attempt at order. They have suffered less from the cold, -thus huddled together. - -’Tis an ill wind that blows nobody any good. The severity of the night -has caused the ring to break into two segments which will, perhaps, -afford a chance of safety. Each group, as it revives and resumes its -walk, will presently be headed by a leader who, not being obliged to -follow a caterpillar in front of him, will possess some liberty of -movement and perhaps be able to make the procession swerve to one side. -Remember that, in the ordinary processions, the caterpillar walking -ahead acts as a scout. While the others, if nothing occurs to create -excitement, keep to their ranks, he attends to his duties as a leader -and is continually turning his head to this side and that, -investigating, seeking, groping, making his choice. And things happen -as he decides: the band follows him faithfully. Remember also that, -even on a road which has already been travelled and beribboned, the -guiding caterpillar continues to explore. - -There is reason to believe that the Processionaries who have lost their -way on the ledge will find a chance of safety here. Let us watch them. -On recovering from their torpor, the two groups line up by degrees into -two distinct files. There are therefore two leaders, free to go where -they please, independent of each other. Will they succeed in leaving -the enchanted circle? At the sight of their large black heads swaying -anxiously from side to side, I am inclined to think so for a moment. -But I am soon undeceived. As the ranks fill out, the two sections of -the chain meet and the circle is reconstituted. The momentary leaders -once more become simple subordinates; and again the caterpillars march -round and round all day. - -For the second time in succession, the night, which is very calm and -magnificently starry, brings a hard frost. In the morning the -Processionaries on the tub, the only ones who have camped out -unsheltered, are gathered into a heap which largely overflows both -sides of the fatal ribbon. I am present at the awakening of the numbed -ones. The first to take the road is, as luck will have it, outside the -track. Hesitatingly he ventures into unknown ground. He reaches the top -of the rim and descends upon the other side on the earth in the vase. -He is followed by six others, no more. Perhaps the rest of the troop, -who have not fully recovered from their nocturnal torpor, are to lazy -to bestir themselves. - -The result of this brief delay is a return to the old track. The -caterpillars embark on the silken trail and the circular march is -resumed, this time in the form of a ring with a gap in it. There is no -attempt, however, to strike a new course on the part of the guide whom -this gap has placed at the head. A chance of stepping outside the magic -circle has presented itself at last; and he does not know how to avail -himself of it. - -As for the caterpillars who have made their way to the inside of the -vase, their lot is hardly improved. They climb to the top of the palm, -starving and seeking for food. Finding nothing to eat that suits them, -they retrace their steps by following the thread which they have left -on the way, climb the ledge of the pot, strike the procession again -and, without further anxiety, slip back into the ranks. Once more the -ring is complete, once more the circle turns and turns. - -Then when will the deliverance come? There is a legend that tells of -poor souls dragged along in an endless round until the hellish charm is -broken by a drop of holy water. What drop will good fortune sprinkle on -my Processionaries to dissolve their circle and bring them back to the -nest? I see only two means of conjuring the spell and obtaining a -release from the circuit. These two means are two painful ordeals. A -strange linking of cause and effect: from sorrow and wretchedness good -is to come. - -And, first, shrivelling as the result of cold. The caterpillars gather -together without any order, heap themselves some on the path, some, -more numerous these, outside it. Among the latter there may be, sooner -or later, some revolutionary who, scorning the beaten track, will trace -out a new road and lead the troop back home. We have just seen an -instance of it. Seven penetrated to the interior of the vase and -climbed the palm. True, it was an attempt with no result, but still an -attempt. For complete success, all that need be done would have been to -take the opposite slope. An even chance is a great thing. Another time -we shall be more successful. - -In the second place, the exhaustion due to fatigue and hunger. A lame -one stops, unable to go farther. In front of the defaulter the -procession still continues to wend its way for a short time. The ranks -close up and an empty space appears. On coming to himself and resuming -the march, the caterpillar who has caused the breach becomes a leader, -having nothing before him. The least desire for emancipation is all -that he wants to make him launch the band into a new path which perhaps -will be the saving path. - -In short, when the Processionaries’ train is in difficulties, what it -needs, unlike ours, is to run off the rails. The side-tracking is left -to the caprice of a leader who alone is capable of turning to the right -or left; and this leader is absolutely non-existent so long as the ring -remains unbroken. Lastly, the breaking of the circle, the one stroke of -luck, is the result of a chaotic halt, caused principally by excess of -fatigue or cold. - -The liberating accident, especially that of fatigue, occurs fairly -often. In the course of the same day, the moving circumference is cut -up several times into two or three sections; but continuity soon -returns and no change takes place. Things go on just the same. The bold -innovator who is to save the situation has not yet had his inspiration. - -There is nothing new on the fourth day, after an icy night like the -previous one; nothing to tell except the following detail. Yesterday I -did not remove the trace left by the few caterpillars who made their -way to the inside of the vase. This trace, together with a junction -connecting it with the circular road, is discovered in the course of -the morning. Half the troop takes advantage of it to visit the earth in -the pot and climb the palm; the other half remains on the ledge and -continues to walk along the old rail. In the afternoon the band of -emigrants rejoins the others, the circuit is completed and things -return to their original condition. - -We come to the fifth day. The night frost becomes more intense, without -however as yet reaching the greenhouse. It is followed by bright -sunshine in a calm and limpid sky. As soon as the sun’s rays have -warmed the panes a little, the caterpillars, lying in heaps, wake up -and resume their evolutions on the ledge of the vase. This time the -fine order of the beginning is disturbed and a certain disorder becomes -manifest, apparently an omen of deliverance near at hand. The -scouting-path inside the vase, which was upholstered in silk yesterday -and the day before, is to-day followed to its origin on the rim by a -part of the band and is then abandoned after a short loop. The other -caterpillars follow the usual ribbon. The result of this bifurcation is -two almost equal files, walking along the ledge in the same direction, -at a short distance from each other, sometimes meeting, separating -farther on, in every case with some lack of order. - -Weariness increases the confusion. The crippled, who refuse to go on, -are many. Breaches increase; files are split up into sections each of -which has its leader, who pokes the front of his body this way and that -to explore the ground. Everything seems to point to the disintegration -which will bring safety. My hopes are once more disappointed. Before -the night the single file is reconstituted and the invincible gyration -resumed. - -Heat comes, just as suddenly as the cold did. To-day, the 4th of -February, is a beautiful, mild day. The greenhouse is full of life. -Numerous festoons of caterpillars, issuing from the nests, meander -along the sand on the shelf. Above them, at every moment, the ring on -the ledge of the vase breaks up and comes together again. For the first -time I see daring leaders who, drunk with heat, standing only on their -hinder prolegs at the extreme edge of the earthenware rim, fling -themselves forward into space, twisting about, sounding the depths. The -endeavour is frequently repeated, while the whole troop stops. The -caterpillars’ heads give sudden jerks; their bodies wriggle. - -One of the pioneers decides to take the plunge. He slips under the -ledge. Four follow him. The others, still confiding in the perfidious -silken path, dare not copy him and continue to go along the old road. - -The short string detached from the general chain gropes about a great -deal, hesitates long on the side of the vase; it goes half-way down, -then climbs up again slantwise, rejoins and takes its place in the -procession. This time the attempt has failed, though at the foot of the -vase, not nine inches away, there lay a bunch of pine-needles which I -had placed there with the object of enticing the hungry ones. Smell and -sight told them nothing. Near as they were to the goal, they went up -again. - -No matter, the endeavour has its uses. Threads were laid on the way and -will serve as a lure to further enterprise. The road of deliverance has -its first landmarks. And two days later, on the eighth day of the -experiment, the caterpillars—now singly, anon in small groups, then -again in strings of some length—come down from the ledge by following -the staked-out path. At sunset the last of the laggards is back in the -nest. - -Now for a little arithmetic. For seven times twenty-four hours the -caterpillars have remained on the ledge of the vase. To make an ample -allowance for stops due to the weariness of this one or that and above -all for the rest taken during the colder hours of the night, we will -deduct one-half of the time. This leaves eighty-four hours’ walking. -The average pace is nine centimetres [16] a minute. The aggregate -distance covered, therefore, is 453 metres, a good deal more than a -quarter of a mile, which is a great walk for these little crawlers. The -circumference of the vase, the perimeter of the track, is exactly 1 m. -35. [17] Therefore the circle covered, always in the same direction and -always without result, was described three hundred and thirty-five -times. - -These figures surprise me, though I am already familiar with the -abysmal stupidity of insects as a class whenever the least accident -occurs. I feel inclined to ask myself whether the Processionaries were -not kept up there so long by the difficulties and dangers of the -descent rather than by the lack of any gleam of intelligence in their -benighted minds. The facts, however, reply that the descent is as easy -as the ascent. - -The caterpillar has a very supple back, well adapted for twisting round -projections or slipping underneath. He can walk with the same ease -vertically or horizontally, with his back down or up. Besides, he never -moves forward until he has fixed his thread to the ground. With this -support to his feet, he has no falls to fear, no matter what his -position. - -I had a proof of this before my eyes during a whole week. As I have -already said, the track, instead of keeping on one level, bends twice, -dips at a certain point under the ledge of the vase and reappears at -the top a little farther on. At one part of the circuit, therefore, the -procession walks on the lower surface of the rim; and this inverted -position implies so little discomfort or danger that it is renewed at -each turn for all the caterpillars from first to last. - -It is out of the question then to suggest the dread of a false step on -the edge of the rim which is so nimbly turned at each point of -inflexion. The caterpillars in distress, starved, shelterless, chilled -with cold at night, cling obstinately to the silk ribbon covered -hundreds of times, because they lack the rudimentary glimmers of reason -which would advice them to abandon it. - -Experience and reflection are not in their province. The ordeal of a -five hundred yards’ march and three to four hundred turns teach them -nothing; and it takes casual circumstances to bring them back to the -nest. They would perish on their insidious ribbon if the disorder of -the nocturnal encampments and the halts due to fatigue did not cast a -few threads outside the circular path. Some three or four move along -these trails, laid without an object, stray a little way and, thanks to -their wanderings, prepare the descent, which is at last accomplished in -short strings favoured by chance. - -The school most highly honoured to-day is very anxious to find the -origin of reason in the dregs of the animal kingdom. Let me call its -attention to the Pine Processionary. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -THE PINE PROCESSIONARY: METEOROLOGY - - -In January a second moult occurs, leaving the caterpillar less fair to -the eye, while at the same time endowing him with some very peculiar -organs. When the moment has come to shed their skins, the -Processionaries cluster higgledy-piggledy on the dome of the nest and -there, if the weather be mild, remain motionless day and night. It -would seem as though the fact of their contact, of their mutual -discomfort, while thus heaped together, furnishes a resistance, a -fulcrum, which favours the process of excoriation. - -After this second moult, the hairs on the middle of the back are of a -dull reddish colour, which is made paler still by the interposition of -numerous long white hairs. But this faded costume is accompanied by the -singular organs which attracted the attention of Réaumur, who was -greatly perplexed as to their function. In the place originally -occupied by the scarlet mosaic, eight segments of the caterpillar are -now cleft by a broad transversal gash, a sort of thick-lipped mouth, -which opens and gapes wide at the caterpillar’s will, or closes without -leaving a visible trace. - -From each of these expanding mouths rises a tumour with a fine, -colourless skin, as though the creature were exposing its tender inside -and inflating it, for the appearance is almost that which would be -presented by the viscera protruding through skin incised by the -scalpel. Two large dark-brown dots occupy the front face of the -protuberance. At the back are two short, flat tufts of russet bristles, -which in the sunlight shine with a rich brilliancy. All around is a -radiating border of long white hairs, spread almost flat. - -This protuberance is extremely sensitive. At the slightest irritation -it goes in again and disappears under the dark integument. In its place -opens an oval crater, a sort of huge stoma, which swiftly brings its -lips together, closes and entirely disappears. The long white hairs -that form a moustache and imperial around this mouth follow the -movements of the contracting lips. After first radiating from a centre -and lying flat, these hairs rise like levelled wheat which the wind has -caught from beneath and meet to form a transversal crest, perpendicular -to the creature’s back. - -This hairy erection produces a sudden modification in the caterpillar’s -aspect. The red shiny bristles have disappeared, buried under the dark -skin; the white hairs, now standing on end, form a hirsute mane; an -ashy tinge has crept into the general colour of the costume. - -When calm is restored, as soon happens, the slits open and yawn afresh; -the sensitive protuberances emerge, quick to disappear once more should -any cause for alarm occur. These alternate expansions and contractions -are rapidly repeated. I provoke them at will in various ways. A slight -puff of tobacco-smoke immediately causes the stomata to yawn and the -protuberances to emerge. One would think that the insect was putting -itself on its guard and displaying some special apparatus of -information. Before long the protuberances go in again. A second puff -of smoke brings them out once more. But, if the smoke is too abundant, -too acrid, the caterpillar wriggles and writhes without opening his -apparatus. - -Or else I touch one or other of these uncovered protuberances, very -delicately, with a bit of straw. The pimple affected immediately -contracts, draws into itself, like the horns of the Snail, and is -replaced by a gaping mouth, which in its turn closes. Usually, but not -always, the segment excited by the contact of my straw is imitated by -the others, both front and back, which close their apparatus one by -one. - -When undisturbed and in repose, the caterpillar generally has his -dorsal slits expanded; in moving, he sometimes opens and sometimes -closes them. In either case expansion and contraction are frequently -repeated. Constantly coming together and retreating under the skin, the -lips of the mouth-like opening therefore end by losing their brittle -moustaches of russet hairs, which break off. In this way a sort of dust -collects at the bottom of the crater, a dust formed of broken hairs, -which, thanks to their barbs, soon collect into little tufts. When the -slit expands rather suddenly, the central projection shoots out on the -insect’s sides its load of hairy remnants, which the least breath blows -into a cloud of golden atoms highly disagreeable to the observer. I -shall have something to say presently of the itch to which he is at -such times exposed. - -Are these peculiar stomata designed merely to collect the adjoining -bristles and to grind them to powder? Are these fine-skinned papillæ, -which inflate and ascend from the depths of their hiding-place, -intended to get rid of the accumulation of broken hairs? Or is it the -sole function of this peculiar apparatus to prepare, at the expense of -the caterpillar’s fleece, an irritant dust which shall act as a means -of defence? Nothing tells us so. - -Certainly the caterpillar is not armed against the enquirer who from -time to time takes it into his head to come and examine him through a -magnifying-glass. It is even very doubtful whether he troubles at all -about those passionate caterpillar-lovers, Calosoma sycophanta [18] -among insects and the Cuckoo among birds. Those who consume such fare -have a stomach expressly fashioned for the purpose, a stomach that -laughs at blistering hairs and possibly finds an appetizing stimulant -in their sting. No, I do not see the motives that prompted the -Processionary to cleave his back with so many slits, if he merely -strips himself of his hair to throw an irritating dust in our eyes. -There must certainly be something else in question. - -Réaumur mentions these openings, of which he made a brief study. He -calls them stigmata and is inclined to take them for exceptional -breathing-holes. That they are not, O my master; no insect contrives -air-holes on its back! Moreover, the magnifying-glass reveals no -channel of communication with the interior. Respiration plays no part -here; the solution of the enigma must lie elsewhere. - -The protuberances that rise from those expanded cavities are formed of -a soft, pale, hairless membrane, which gives the impression of a -visceral hernia, as though the caterpillar were wounded and exposing -its delicate entrails to the air. The sensitiveness just here is great. -The lightest touch with the point of a hair-pencil causes the immediate -indrawing of the protuberances and the closing of the containing lips. - -The touch of a solid object even is not essential. I pick up a tiny -drop of water on the point of a pin and, without shaking it off, -present this drop to the sensitive projection. At the moment when -contact occurs the apparatus contracts and closes up. The recoil of the -Snail’s horns, withdrawing the visual and olfactory organs into their -sheaths, is no prompter. - -Everything seems to prove that these optional tumours, appearing and -disappearing at the caterpillar’s will, are instruments of sensorial -perception. The caterpillar exposes them to obtain information; he -shelters them under his skin to preserve their delicate functions. Now -what is it that they perceive? This is a difficult question, in which -the habits of the Processionary alone can afford us a little guidance. - -During the whole winter, the Pine Caterpillars are active only at -night. In the daytime, when the weather is fine, they readily repair to -the dome of the nest and there remain motionless, gathered into heaps. -It is the hour of the open-air siesta, under the pale December and -January sun. As yet none leaves the home. It is quite late in the -evening, towards nine o’clock, when they set out, marching in an -irregular procession, to browse on the leaves of the branches hard by. -Their grazing is a protracted affair. The flock returns late, some time -after midnight, when the temperature falls too low. - -Secondly, it is in the heart of winter, during the roughest months, -that the Processionary displays his full activity. Indefatigably at -this time of year he spins, adding each night a new web to his silken -tent; at this time, whenever the weather permits, he ventures abroad on -the neighbouring boughs to feed, to grow and to renew his skein of -silk. - -By a very remarkable exception, the harsh season marked by inactivity -and lethargic repose in other insects is for him the season of bustle -and labour, on condition, of course, that the inclemencies of the -weather do not exceed certain limits. If the north wind blow too -violently, so that it is like to sweep the flock away; if the cold be -too piercing, so that there is a risk of freezing to death; if it snow, -or rain, or if the mist thicken into an icy drizzle, the caterpillars -prudently stay at home, sheltering under their weatherproof tent. - -It would be convenient to some extent to foresee these inclemencies. -The caterpillar dreads them. A drop of rain sets him in a flutter; a -snowflake exasperates him. To start for the grazing-grounds at dark of -night, in uncertain weather, would be dangerous, for the procession -goes some distance and travels slowly. The flock would fare ill before -regaining shelter did any sudden atmospheric trouble supervene, an -event of some frequency in the bad season of the year. So that he may -be informed in this particular during his nocturnal winter rambles, can -the Pine Caterpillar be endowed with some sort of meteorological -aptitudes? Let us describe how the suspicion occurred to me. - -Divulged I know not how, my rearing of caterpillars under glass -acquired a certain renown. It was talked about in the village. The -forest-ranger, a sworn enemy to destructive insects, wanted to see the -grazing of the famous caterpillars, of whom he had retained a too -poignant memory ever since the day when he gathered and destroyed their -nests in a pine-wood under his charge. It was arranged that he should -call the same evening. - -He arrives at the appointed hour, accompanied by a friend. For a moment -we sit and chat in front of the fire; then, when the clock strikes -nine, the lantern is lit and we all three enter the greenhouse. The -visitors are eager for the spectacle of which they have heard such -wonderful things, while I am certain of satisfying their curiosity. - -But, but ... what is this? Not a caterpillar on the nests, not one on -the fresh ration of branches! Last night and on the previous nights -they came out in countless numbers; to-night not one reveals himself. -Can it be that they are merely late in going to dinner? Can their -habitual punctuality be at fault because appetite has not yet arrived? -We must be patient.... Ten o’clock. Nothing. Eleven. Still nothing. -Midnight was at hand when we abandoned our watch, convinced that it -would be vain to prolong the sitting. You can imagine what an abject -fool I looked at having thus to send my guests away. - -Next day I thought that I dimly perceived the explanation of this -disappointment. It rained in the night and again in the morning. Snow, -not the earliest of the year, but so far the most abundant, whitened -the brow of the Ventoux. [19] Had the caterpillars, more sensitive than -any of us to atmospheric changes, refused to venture forth because they -anticipated what was about to happen? Had they foreseen the rain and -the snow, which nothing seemed to announce, at all events to us? After -all, why not? Let us continue to observe them and we shall see whether -the coincidence is fortuitous or not. - -On this memorable day, therefore, the 13th of December, 1895, I -institute the caterpillars’ meteorological observatory. I have at my -disposal absolutely none of the apparatus dear to science, not even a -modest thermometer, for my unlucky star continues in the ascendant, -proving as unkind to-day as when I learnt chemistry with pipe-bowls for -crucibles and bottles that once contained sweets for retorts. I confine -myself to visiting nightly the Processionaries in the greenhouse and -those in the garden. It is a hard task, especially as I have to go to -the far end of the enclosure, often in weather when one would not turn -a Dog out of doors. I set down the acts of the caterpillars, whether -they come out or stay at home; I note the state of the sky during the -day and at the moment of my evening examination. - -To this list I add the meteorological chart of Europe which the Temps -publishes daily. If I want more precise data, I request the Normal -School at Avignon to send me, on occasions of violent disturbances, the -barometrical records of its observatory. These are the only documents -at my disposal. - -Before we come to the results obtained, let me once more repeat that my -caterpillars’ meteorological institute has two stations: one in the -greenhouse and one in the open air, on the pines in the enclosure. The -first, protected against the wind and rain, is that which I prefer: it -provides more regular and more continuous information. In fact, the -open-air caterpillars often enough refuse to come out, even though the -general conditions be favourable. It is enough to keep them at home if -there be too strong a wind shaking the boughs, or even a little -moisture dripping on the web of the nests. Saved from these two perils, -the greenhouse caterpillars have only to consider atmospheric incidents -of a higher order. The small variations escape them; the great alone -make an impression on them: a most useful point for the observer and -going a long way towards solving the problem for him. The colonies -under glass, therefore, provide most of the material for my notes; the -colonies in the open air add their testimony, which is not always quite -clear. - -Now what did they tell me, those greenhouse caterpillars who, on the -13th of December, refused to show themselves to my guest, the -forest-ranger? The rain that was to fall that night could hardly have -alarmed them: they were so well sheltered. The snow about to whiten -Mont Ventoux was nothing to them: it was so far away. Moreover, it was -neither snowing yet nor raining. Some extraordinary atmospheric event, -profound and of vast extent, must have been occurring. The charts in -the Temps and the bulletin of the Normal School told me as much. - -A cyclonic disturbance, coming from the British Isles, was passing over -our district; an atmospheric depression the like of which the season -had not as yet known, had spread in our direction, reaching us on the -13th and persisting, in a more or less accentuated form, until the -22nd. At Avignon the barometer suddenly fell half an inch, to 29.1 in., -on the 13th and lower still, to 29 in., on the 19th. - -During this period of ten days, the garden caterpillars made no sortie -on the pine-trees. True, the weather was changeable. There were a few -showers of fine rain and some violent gusts of the mistral; but more -frequently there were days and nights when the sky was superb and the -temperature moderate. The prudent anchorites would not allow themselves -to be caught. The low pressure persisted, menacing them; and so they -stopped at home. - -In the greenhouse things happen rather differently. Sorties take place, -but the staying-in days are still more numerous. It looks as though the -caterpillars, alarmed at first by the unexpected things happening -overhead, had reassured themselves and resumed work, feeling nothing, -in their shelter, of what they would have suffered out of doors—rain, -snow and furious mistral blasts—and had then suspended their work again -when the threats of bad weather increased. - -There is, indeed, a fairly accurate agreement between the oscillations -of the barometer and the decisions of the herd. When the column of -mercury rises a little, they come out; when it falls they remain at -home. Thus on the 19th, the night of the lowest pressure, 29 in., not a -caterpillar ventures outside. - -As the wind and rain can have no effect on my colonies under glass, one -is led to suppose that atmospheric pressure, with its physiological -results, so difficult to define, is here the principal factor. As for -the temperature, within moderate limits there is no need to discuss it. -The Processionaries have a robust constitution, as behoves spinners who -work in the open air in midwinter. However piercing the cold, so long -as it does not freeze, when the hour comes for working or feeding they -spin on the surface of the nest or browse on the neighbouring branches. - -Another example. According to the meteorological chart in the Temps, a -depression whose centre is near the Iles Sanguinaires, at the entrance -of the Gulf of Ajaccio, reaches my neighbourhood, with a minimum of -29.2 in., on the 9th of January. A tempestuous wind gets up. For the -first time this year there is a respectable frost. The ice on the large -pond in the garden is two or three inches thick. This wild weather -lasts for five days. Of course, the garden caterpillars do not sally -forth on the pine-trees while these are battered by such a gale. - -The remarkable part of the business is that the greenhouse caterpillars -do not venture out of their nests either. And yet for them there are no -boughs dangerously shaken, no cold piercing beyond endurance, for it is -not freezing under the glass. What keeps them in can be only the -passage of that wave of depression. On the 15th the storm ceases; and -the barometer remains between 29.6 and 30 in. for the rest of the month -and a good part of February. During this long period there are -magnificent sorties every evening, especially in the greenhouse. - -On the 23rd and 24th of February, suddenly the Processionaries stop at -home again, for no apparent reason. Of the six nests under cover, only -two have a few rare caterpillars out on the pine-branches, while -previously, in the case of all six, I used every night to see the -leaves bending under the weight of an innumerable multitude. Warned by -this forecast, I enter in my notes: - -“Some deep depression is about to reach us.” - -And I have guessed right. Two days later, sure enough, the -meteorological record of the Temps gives me the following information: -a minimum of 29.2 in., coming from the Bay of Biscay on the 22nd, -reaches Algeria on the 23rd and spreads over the Provence coast on the -24th. There is a heavy snowfall at Marseilles on the 25th. - - - “The ships,” I read in my paper, “present a curious spectacle, with - their yards and rigging white. That is how the people of - Marseilles, little used to such sights, picture Spitzbergen and the - North Pole.” - - -Here certainly is the gale which my caterpillars foresaw when they -refused to go out last night and the night before; here is the centre -of disturbance which revealed itself at Sérignan by a violent and icy -north wind on the 25th and the following days. Again I perceive that -the greenhouse caterpillars are alarmed only at the approach of the -wave of atmospheric disturbance. Once the first uneasiness caused by -the depression had abated, they came out again, on the 25th and the -following days, in the midst of the gale, as though nothing -extraordinary were happening. - -From the sum of my observations it appears that the Pine Processionary -is eminently sensitive to atmospheric vicissitudes, an excellent -quality, having regard to his way of life in the sharp winter nights. -He foresees the storm which would imperil his excursions. - -His capacity for scenting bad weather very soon won the confidence of -the household. When we had to go into Orange to renew our provisions, -it became the rule to consult him the night before; and, according to -his verdict, we went or stayed at home. His oracle never deceived us. -In the same way, simple folk that we were, we used in the old days to -interrogate the Dor-beetle, [20] another doughty nocturnal worker. But, -a little demoralized by imprisonment in a cage and apparently devoid of -any special sensitive apparatus, performing his evolutions, moreover, -in the mild autumn evenings, the celebrated Dung-beetle could never -rival the Pine Caterpillar, who is active during the roughest season of -the year and endowed, as everything would seem to affirm, with organs -quick to perceive the great atmospheric fluctuations. - -Rural lore abounds in meteorological forecasts derived from animals. -The Cat, sitting in front of the fire and washing behind her ears with -a saliva-smeared paw, foretells another cold snap; the Cock, crowing at -unusual hours, announces the return of fine weather; the Guinea-fowl, -with her screeching, as of a scythe on the grindstone, points to rain; -the Hen, standing on one leg, her plumage ruffled, her head sunk on her -neck, feels a hard frost coming; the pretty green Tree-frog inflates -his throat like a bladder at the approach of a storm and, according to -the Provençal peasant, says: - -“Ploùra, ploùra; it will rain, it will rain!” - -This rustic meteorology, the heritage of the centuries, does not show -up so badly beside our scientific meteorology. - -Are not we ourselves living barometers? Every veteran complains of his -glorious scars when the weather is about to break. One man, though -unwounded, suffers from insomnia or from bad dreams; another, though a -brain-worker, cannot drag an idea out of his impotent head. Each of us, -in his own way, is tried by the passage of those huge funnels which -form in the atmosphere and hatch the storm. - -Could the insect, with its exceptionally delicate organization, escape -this kind of impression? It is unbelievable. The insect, more than any -other creature, should be an animated meteorological instrument, as -truthful in its forecasts, if we knew how to read them, as the lifeless -instruments of our observatories, with their mercury and their catgut. -All, in different degrees, possess a general impressionability -analogous to our own and exercised without the aid of specific organs. -Some, better-gifted because of their mode of life, might well be -furnished with special meteorological apparatus. - -The Pine Processionary seems to belong to this number. In his second -costume, when the segments bear on their dorsal faces an elegant red -mosaic, he differs apparently from other caterpillars only by a more -delicate general impressionability, unless this mosaic be endowed with -aptitudes unknown elsewhere. If the nocturnal spinner is still none too -generously equipped, it must be remembered that the season which he -passes in this condition is nearly always clement. The really -formidable nights hardly set in before January. But then, as a -safeguard in his peregrinations, the Pine Processionary cleaves his -back with a series of mouths which yawn open to sample the air from -time to time and to give a warning of the sudden storm. - -Until further evidence is forthcoming, therefore, the dorsal slits are, -to my mind, meteorological instruments, barometers influenced by the -main fluctuations of the atmosphere. To go beyond suspicions, though -these are well based, is for me impossible. I lack the equipment -necessary to delve more deeply into the subject. But I have given a -hint. It is for those who are better favoured in the matter of -resources to find the final solution of this interesting problem. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER V - -THE PINE PROCESSIONARY: THE MOTH - - -When March comes, the caterpillars reared in domesticity never cease -processioning. Many leave the greenhouse, which remains open; they go -in search of a suitable spot for the approaching metamorphosis. This is -the final exodus, the definite abandonment of the nest and the -pine-tree. The pilgrims are much faded, whitish, with a few russet -hairs on their backs. - -On the 20th of March I spend a whole morning watching the evolutions of -a file some three yards in length, containing about a hundred -emigrants. The procession toils grimly along, undulating over the dusty -ground, where it leaves a furrow. Then it breaks into a small number of -groups, which crowd together and remain quiescent save for sudden -oscillations of the hind-quarters. After a halt of varying duration, -these groups resume their march, henceforward forming independent -processions. - -They take no settled direction. This one goes forward, that one goes -back; one turns to the left and another to the right. There is no rule -about their marching, no positive goal. One procession, after -describing a loop, retraces its steps. Yet there is a general tendency -towards that wall of the greenhouse which faces the south and reflects -the sun’s rays with added fervour. The sole guide, it would seem, is -the amount of sun which a place obtains; the directions whence the -greatest heat comes are preferred. - -After a couple of hours of marching and countermarching, the -fragmentary processions, comprising each a score of caterpillars, reach -the foot of the wall. Here the soil is powdery, very dry, easy to -burrow in, although made somewhat firmer by tufts of grass. The -caterpillar at the head of the row explores with his mandibles, digs a -little, investigates the nature of the ground. The others, trusting -their leader, follow him with docility, making no attempts of their -own. Whatever the foremost decides will be adopted by all. Here, in the -choice of a matter so important as the spot whereat the transformation -shall take place, there is no individual initiative. There is only one -will, the leader’s. There is only one head, so to speak; the procession -may be compared with the chain of segments of an enormous worm. - -Finally some spot is recognized as propitious. The leading caterpillar -halts, pushes with his head, digs with his mandibles. The others, still -in a continuous line, arrive one by one and likewise come to a halt. -Then the file breaks up into a swarming heap, in which each of the -caterpillars resumes his liberty. All their backs are joggling -pell-mell; all their heads are plunged into the dust; all their feet -are raking, all their mandibles excavating the soil. The worm has -chopped itself into a gang of independent workers. - -An excavation is formed in which, little by little, the caterpillars -bury themselves. For some time to come, the undermined soil cracks and -rises and covers itself with little mole-hills; then all is still. The -caterpillars have descended to a depth of three inches. This is as far -as the roughness of the soil permits them to go. In looser soil, the -excavation would attain a much greater depth. The greenhouse shelf, -supplied with fine sand, has provided me with cocoons placed at a depth -of from eight to twelve inches. I would not assert that the interment -might not be made still lower down. For the most part, the burial is -effected in common, by more or less numerous clusters and at depths -which vary greatly, according to the nature of the soil. - -A fortnight later, let us dig at the point where the descent -underground was made. Here we shall find the cocoons assembled in -bunches, cocoons of sorry appearance, soiled as they are with earthy -particles held by silken threads. When stripped of their rough -exterior, they are not without a certain elegance. They are narrow -ellipsoids, pointed at both ends, measuring twenty-five millimetres in -length and nine millimetres [21] in thickness. The silk of which they -are composed is very fine and of a dull white. The fragility of the -walls is remarkable when we have seen the enormous quantity of silk -expended on the construction of the nest. - -A prodigious spinner where his winter habitation is concerned, the -caterpillar finds his glands exhausted and is reduced to the strictly -necessary amount when the time comes for making the cocoon. Too poor in -silk, he strengthens his flimsy cell with a facing of earth. With him -it is not the industry of the Bembex [22], who inserts grains of sand -in her silky web and makes a solid casket of the whole; it is a summary -sort of art, devoid of delicacy, which just casually sticks together -the surrounding earthy refuse. - -Moreover, if circumstances demand it, the Pine Caterpillar can do -without earth. In the very midst of the nest I have sometimes—very -rarely, it is true—discovered cocoons which were perfectly clean. Not a -scrap of alien matter defiled their fine white silk. I have obtained -similar specimens by placing caterpillars under a bell-glass in a pan -provided only with a few pine-twigs. Better still: an entire -procession, a good-sized one too, gathered at the opportune moment and -enclosed in a large box containing no sand nor any material whatever, -spun its cocoons with no other support than the bare walls. These -exceptions, provoked by circumstances in which the caterpillar is not -free to act according to his wont, does not in any way invalidate the -rule. To prepare for the transformation, the Processionary buries -himself, to the depth of nine inches and more, if the soil permit. - -Here a curious problem forces itself upon the observer’s mind. How does -the Moth contrive to ascend from the catacombs into which the -caterpillar has descended? Not in the finery of her perfect state—the -big wings with their delicate scales, the sweeping antenna-plumes—dare -she brave the asperities of the soil, or she would issue thence all -tattered, rumpled and unrecognizable. And this is not the case: far -from it. Moreover, what means can she employ, she so feeble, to break -the crust of earth into which the original dust will have turned after -the slightest of showers? - -The Moth appears at the end of July or in August. The burial took place -in March. Rain must have fallen during this lapse of time, rain which -beats down the soil, cements it and leaves it to harden once -evaporation has set in. Never could a Moth, unless attired and equipped -with tools for the purpose, break her way through such an obstacle. She -would perforce require a boring-tool and a costume of extreme -simplicity. Guided by these considerations, I institute a few -experiments which will give me the key to the riddle. - -In April I make a copious collection of cocoons. Of these I place ten -or twelve at the bottom of test-tubes of different diameters and, last -of all, I fill the apparatus with sandy soil, sifted and very slightly -moistened. The contents are pressed down, but in moderation, for fear -of injuring the cocoons below. When the month of August comes, the -column of earth, damp at the outset, has set so firmly, thanks to -evaporation, that, when I reverse the test-tube, nothing trickles out. -On the other hand, some cocoons have been kept naked under a metallic -cover. These will teach me what the buried cocoons would not be able to -show. They furnish me, in fact, with records of the greatest interest. -On issuing from the cocoon, the Pine Bombyx has her finery bundled up -and presents the appearance of a cylinder with rounded ends. The wings, -the principal obstacle to underground labour, are pressed against the -breast like narrow scarves; the antennæ, another serious embarrassment, -have not yet unfolded their plumes and are turned back along the Moth’s -sides. The hair, which later forms a dense fleece, is laid flat, -pointing backwards. The legs alone are free, fairly active and endowed -with a certain vigour. Thanks to this arrangement, which does away with -all awkward projections, the ascent through the soil is made possible. - -True, every Moth, at the moment of quitting her shell, is this sort of -swathed mummy; but the Pine Bombyx has in addition an exceptional -aptitude rendered necessary by the fact that she hatches under the -ground. While the others, once out of the cocoon, hasten to spread -their wings and are powerless to defer their development, she, by -virtue of an indispensable privilege, remains in her compact and -wrapped-up condition as long as circumstances demand it. Under my -bell-glasses I see some who, though born upon the surface, for -twenty-four hours drag themselves over the sand or cling to the -pine-branches, before untying their sashes and unfurling them as wings. - -This delay is evidently essential. To ascend from beneath the earth and -reach the open air, the Moth has to bore a long tunnel, which requires -time. She will take good care not to spread her finery before emerging, -for it would hamper her and would itself be rumpled and badly creased. -Therefore the cylindrical mummy persists until the deliverance is -effected; and, if liberty happen to be acquired before the appointed -moment, the final evolution does not take place until after a lapse of -time in conformity with usage. - -We are acquainted with the equipment for emergence, the tight-fitting -jerkin indispensable in a narrow gallery. Now, where is the -boring-tool? The legs, though free, would here be insufficient: they -would scrape the earth laterally, enlarging the diameter of the shaft, -but could not prolong the exit vertically, above the insect’s head. -This tool must be in front. - -Pass the tip of your finger over the Moth’s head. You will feel a few -very rough wrinkles. The magnifying-glass shows us more. We find, -between the eyes and higher up, four or five transversal scales, so set -as to overlap one another; they are hard and black and are trimmed -crescent-wise at the ends. The longest and strongest is the uppermost, -which is in the middle of the forehead. There you have the centre-bit -of your boring-tool. - -To make our tunnels in granitic rocks we tip our drills with diamond -points. For a similar task the Bombyx, a living drill, wears implanted -on her forehead a row of crescents, hard and durable as steel, a -regular twist-bit. Without suspecting its use, Réaumur was perfectly -aware of this marvellous implement, which he called scaly stairs: - -“What does it profit this Moth,” he asks, “that she should thus have -the front of her head formed like scaly stairs? That is just what I do -not know.” - -My test-tubes, learned master, will tell us. By good fortune, of the -numerous Moths ascending from the bottom of my apparatus through a -column of sand solidified by the evaporation of the original moisture, -some are making their way upwards against the side of the tube, -enabling me to follow their manœuvres. I see them raising their -cylindrical bodies, butting with their heads, jerking now in one -direction, now in another. The nature of their task is obvious. The -centre-bits, with an alternating movement, are boring into the -agglutinated sand. The powdery wreckage trickles down from overhead and -is at once thrust backward by the legs. A little space forms at the top -of the vault; and the Moth moves so much nearer to the surface. By the -following day, the whole column, ten inches in height, will be -perforated with a straight, perpendicular shaft. - -Shall we now form an idea of the total work performed? Let us turn the -test-tube upside down. The contents, as I have said, will not fall out, -for they have set into a block; but from the tunnels bored by the Moth -trickles all the sand crumbled by the crescents of the drill. The -result is a cylindrical gallery, of the width of a lead-pencil, very -cleanly cut and reaching to the bottom of the solid mass. - -Are you satisfied, my master? Do you now perceive the great utility of -the scaly stairs? Would you not say that we have here a magnificent -example of an instrument superlatively fitted for a definite task? I -share this opinion, for I think, with you, that a sovereign Reason has -in all things coordinated the means and the end. - -But let me tell you: we are called old-fashioned, you and I; with our -conception of a world ruled by an Intelligence, we are quite out of the -swim. Order, balance, harmony: that is all silly nonsense. The universe -is a fortuitous arrangement in the chaos of the possible. What is white -might as easily be black, what is round might be angular, what is -regular might be shapeless and harmony might just as well be discord. -Chance has decided all things. - -Yes, we are a pair of prejudiced old fogeys when we linger with a -certain fondness over the marvels of perfection. Who troubles about -these futilities nowadays? So-called serious science, the science which -spells honour, profit and renown, consists in slicing your animal with -very costly instruments into tiny circular sections. My housekeeper -does as much with a bunch of carrots, with no higher pretension than to -concoct a modest dish, which is not an invariable success. In the -problem of life are we more successful when we have split a fibre into -four and cut a cell into shavings? It hardly seems so. The riddle is as -dark as ever. Ah, how much better is your method, my dear master; above -all, how much loftier your philosophy, how much more wholesome and -invigorating! - -Here at last is the Moth at the surface. With the deliberate slowness -demanded by so delicate an operation, she spreads her bunched wings, -extends her antennæ and puffs out her fleece. Her costume is a modest -one: upper wings grey, striped with a few crinkly brown streaks; -under-wings white; thorax covered with thick grey fur; abdomen clad in -bright-russet velvet. The last segment has a pale-gold sheen. At first -sight it appears bare. It is not, however; but, in place of hairs like -those of the other segments, it has, on its dorsal surface, scales so -well assembled and so close together that the whole seems to form a -continuous block, like a nugget. - -Let us touch this trinket with the point of a needle. However gently we -rub, a multitude of scales come off and flutter at the least breath, -shining like mica spangles. Their concave form, their shape, an -elongated oval, their colouring, white in the lower half but reddish -gold in the upper, give them, if we allow for the difference in size, a -certain resemblance to the scales surrounding the heads of some of the -centaury tribe. Such is the golden fleece of which the mother will -despoil herself in order to cover the cylinder of her eggs. The nugget -of her hind-quarters, exfoliated spangle by spangle, will form a roof -for the germs arranged like the grain in a corn-cob. - -I was anxious to watch the actual placing of these pretty tiles, which -are fixed at the pale end with a speck of cement, leaving the coloured -end free. Circumstances did not favour me. Inactive all day, motionless -on some needle of the lower branches, the Moth, whose life is very -short, moves only in the darkness of the night. Both her mating and -egg-laying are nocturnal. On the morrow, all is finished: the Bombyx -has lived. Under these conditions, it was impossible, by the doubtful -beams of a lantern, to follow satisfactorily the labour of the mother -on the pine-trees in the garden. - -I was no more fortunate with the captives in my bell-glasses. A few did -lay their eggs, but always at a very advanced hour of the night, an -hour which found my vigilance at fault. The light of a candle and eyes -heavy with sleep were of little avail when it came to analysing the -subtle operations of the mother as she puts her scales in place. We -will say nothing of the little that was imperfectly seen. - -Let us close with a few words of sylvicultural practice. The Pine -Processionary is a voracious caterpillar who, while respecting the -terminal bud, protected by its scales and its resinous varnish, -completely denudes the bough and imperils the tree by leaving it bald. -The green pine-needles, that mane in which the vegetable vigour of the -tree resides, are shorn to the roots. How are we to remedy this? - -When consulted on the subject, the forest-ranger of my parish told me -that the custom is to go from tree to tree with pruning-shears fitted -on a long pole and to cut down the nests, afterwards burning them. The -method is a troublesome one, for the silken purses are often at -considerable heights. Moreover, it is not without danger. Attacked by -the hairy dust, the destroyers soon experience intolerable discomfort, -a torture of irritation which makes them refuse to continue the work. -To my thinking it would be better to operate before the appearance of -the nests. - -The Pine Bombyx is a very bad flyer. Incapable of soaring, almost like -the Silk-moth, she flutters about and blunders to earth again; and her -best efforts barely succeed in bringing her to the lower branches, -which almost drag along the ground. Here are deposited the cylinders of -eggs, at a height of six feet at most. It is the young caterpillars -who, from one provisional encampment to another, gradually ascend, -attaining, stage by stage, the summits upon which they weave their -final dwellings. Once we grasp this peculiarity, the rest is plain -sailing. - -In August we inspect the lower foliage of the tree: an easy -examination, for it is carried on no higher than our heads. Towards the -far end of the twigs it is easy to espy the Bombyx’ eggs, packed into -cylinders that resemble scaly catkins. Their size and their whitish -colour make them show up amid the sombre green. Gathered with the -double pine-needle that bears them, these cylinders are crushed under -foot, a summary fashion of stamping out an evil before it spreads. - -This I have done in the case of the few pine-trees in my enclosure. And -the same might be done in the wider forest expanses and more especially -in parks and gardens, where symmetrical foliation is one of the great -beauties of the tree. I will add that it is wise to prune every bough -that droops to earth and to keep the foot of the conifer bare to a -height of six feet or so. In the absence of these lower stairs, the -only ones that the Bombyx with her clumsy flight can reach, she will -not be able to populate the tree. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -THE PINE PROCESSIONARY: THE STINGING POWER - - -The Pine Processionary has three costumes: that of infancy, a scanty, -ragged fleece, a mixture of black and white; that of middle age, the -richest of the three, when the segments deck themselves on their dorsal -surface with golden tufts and a mosaic of bare patches, scarlet in -colour; and that of maturity, when the rings are cleft by slits which -one by one open and close their thick lips, champing and grinding their -bristling russet beards and chewing them into little pellets, which are -thrown out on the creature’s sides when the bottom of the pocket swells -up like a tumour. - -When wearing this last costume, the caterpillar is very disagreeable to -handle, or even to observe at close quarters. I happened, quite -unexpectedly, to learn this more thoroughly than I wished. - -After unsuspectingly passing a whole morning with my insects, stooping -over them, magnifying-glass in hand, to examine the working of their -slits, I found my forehead and eyelids suffering with redness for -twenty-four hours and afflicted with an itching even more painful and -persistent than that produced by the sting of a nettle. On seeing me -come down to dinner in this sad plight, with my eyes reddened and -swollen and my face unrecognizable, the family anxiously enquired what -had happened to me and were not reassured until I told them of my -mishap. - -I unhesitatingly attribute my painful experience to the red hairs -ground to powder and collected into flakes. My breath sought them out -in the open pockets and carried them to my face, which was very near. -The unthinking intervention of my hands, which now and again sought to -ease the discomfort, merely aggravated the ill by spreading the -irritating dust. - -No, the search for truth on the back of the Processionary is not all -sunshine. It was only after a night’s rest that I found myself pretty -well recovered, the incident having no further ill effects. Let us -continue, however. It is well to substitute premeditated experiments -for chance facts. - -The little pockets of which the dorsal slits form the entrance are -encumbered, as I have said, with hairy refuse, either scattered or -gathered into flakes. With the point of a paint-brush I collect, when -they gape open, a little of their contents and rub it on my wrist or on -the inside of my fore-arm. - -I have not long to wait for the result. Soon the skin turns red and is -covered with pale lenticular swellings, similar to those produced by a -nettle-sting. Without being very sharp, the pain was extremely -unpleasant. By the following day, itching, redness and lenticular -swellings had all disappeared. This is the usual sequence of events; -but let me not omit to say that the experiment does not always succeed. -The efficacy of the fluffy dust appears subject to great variations. - -There have been occasions when I have rubbed myself with the whole -caterpillar, or with his cast skin, or with the broken hairs gathered -on a paint-brush, without producing any unpleasant results. The -irritant dust seems to vary in quality according to certain -circumstances which I have not been able to discover. - -From my various tests it is evident that the discomfort is caused by -the delicate hairs which the lips of the dorsal mouths, gaping and -closing again, never cease grinding, to the detriment of their beards -and moustaches. The edges of these slits, as their bristles rub off, -furnish the stinging dust. - -Having established this fact, let us proceed to more serious -experiments. In the middle of March, when the Processionaries for the -most part have migrated underground, I decide to open a few nests, as I -wish to collect their last inhabitants for the purpose of my -investigations. Without taking any precautions, my fingers tug at the -silken dwelling, which is made of solid stuff; they tear it into -shreds, search it through and through, turn it inside out and back -again. - -Once more and this time in a more serious fashion, I am the victim of -my unthinking enthusiasm. Hardly is the operation completed, when the -tips of my fingers begin to hurt in good earnest, especially in the -more delicate part protected by the edge of the nail. The feeling is -like the sharp pain of a sore that is beginning to fester. All the rest -of the day and all through the night, the pain persists, troublesome -enough to rob me of my sleep. It does not quiet down until the -following day, after twenty-four hours of petty torment. - -How did this new misadventure befall me? I had not handled the -caterpillars: indeed, there were very few of them in the nest at the -time. I had come upon no shed skins, for the moults do not take place -inside the silken purse. When the moment has come to doff the second -costume, that of the red mosaic, the caterpillars cluster outside, on -the dome of their dwelling, and there leave in a single heap their old -clothes entangled with bits of silk. What is left to explain the -unpleasant consequences to which the handling of the nest exposes us? - -The broken red bristles are left, the fallen hairs forming a dust that -is invisible without a very careful examination. For a long time the -Processionaries crawl and swarm about the nest; they pass to and fro, -penetrating the thickness of the wall when they go to the pastures and -when they return to their dormitory. Whether motionless or on the move, -they are constantly opening and closing their apparatus of information, -the dorsal mouths. At the moment of closing, the lips of these slits, -rolling on each other like the cylinders of a flattening-mill, catch -hold of the fluff near them, tear it out and break it into fragments -which the bottom of the pocket, presently reascending, shoots outside. - -Thus myriads of irritant particles are disseminated and subtly -introduced into every part of the nest. The shirt of Nessus burnt the -veins of whoso wore it; the silk of the Processionary, another poisoned -fabric, sets on fire the fingers that handle it. - -The loathsome hairs long retain their virulence. I was once sorting out -some handfuls of cocoons, many of which were diseased. As the hardness -of the contents was usually an indication that something was wrong, I -tore open the doubtful cocoons with my fingers, in order to save the -non-contaminated chrysalids. My sorting was rewarded with the same kind -of pain, especially under the edges of the nails, as I had already -suffered when tearing the nests. - -The cause of the irritation on this occasion was sometimes the dry skin -discarded by the Processionary on becoming a chrysalis and sometimes -the shrivelled caterpillar turned into a sort of chalky cylinder -through the invasion of the malignant fungus. Six months later, these -wretched cocoons were still capable of producing redness and -irritation. - -Examined under the microscope, the russet hairs, the cause of the -itching, are stiff rods, very sharp at either end and armed with barbs -along the upper half. Their structure has absolutely nothing in common -with nettle-hairs, those tapering phials whose hard point snaps off, -pouring an irritant fluid into the tiny wound. - -The plant from whose Latin name, Urtica, we derive the word urtication -borrowed the design of its weapon from the fangs of the venomous -serpents; it obtains its effect, not by the wound, but by the poison -introduced into the wound. The Processionary employs a different -method. The hairs, which have naught resembling the ampullary reservoir -of the nettle-hairs, must be poisoned on the surface, like the assegais -of the Kafirs and Zulus. - -Do they really penetrate the epidermis? Are they like the savage’s -javelin, which cannot be extracted once it has gone in? With their -barbs, do they enter all the more deeply because of the quivering of -the outraged flesh? There is no ground for believing anything of the -kind. In vain do I scrutinize the injured spot through the -magnifying-glass; I can see no sign of the implanted dart. Neither -could Réaumur, when an encounter with the Oak Processionary set him -scratching himself. He had his suspicions, but could state nothing -definitely. - -No; despite their sharp points and their barbs, which make them, under -the microscope, such formidable spears, the Processionary’s russet -hairs are not darts designed to imbed themselves in the skin and to -provoke irritation by pricking. - -Many caterpillars, all most inoffensive, have a coat of bristles which, -under the microscope, resolve themselves into barbed javelins, quite -harmless in spite of their threatening aspect. Let me mention a couple -of these peaceable halberdiers. - -Early in spring, we see, crossing the paths, a briskly-moving -caterpillar who inspires repugnance by his ferocious hairiness, which -ripples like ripe corn. The ancient naturalists, with their artless and -picturesque nomenclature, called him the Hedgehog. The term is worthy -of the creature, which, in the moment of danger, rolls itself up like a -Hedgehog, presenting its spiny armour on all sides to the enemy. On its -back is a dense mixture of black hairs and hairs of ashen-gray; while -on the sides and fore-part of the body is a stiff mane of bright -russet. Black, grey or russet, all this fierce-looking coat is heavily -barbed. - -One hesitates to touch this horror with the finger-tips. Still, -encouraged by my example, seven-year-old Paul, with his tender child’s -skin, gathers handfuls of the repulsive insect with no more -apprehension than if he were picking a bunch of violets. He fills his -boxes with it; he rears it on elm-leaves and handles it daily, for he -knows that from this frightful creature he will one day obtain a superb -Moth (Chelonia caja, Linn.), clad in scarlet velvet, with the lower -wings red and the upper white, sprinkled with brown spots. - -What resulted from the child’s familiarity with the shaggy creature? -Not even a trace of itching on his delicate skin. I do not speak of -mine, which is tanned by the years. - -In the osier-beds of our local stream, the rushing Aygues, a thorny -shrub abounds which, at the advent of autumn, is covered with an -infinity of very sour red berries. Its crabbed boughs, which bear but -little verdure, are hidden under their clusters of vermilion balls. It -is the sallow thorn or sea buckthorn (Hippophaë rhamnoides). - -In April, a very hairy but rather pretty caterpillar lives at the -expense of this shrub’s budding leaves. He has on his back five dense -tufts of hair, set side by side and arranged like the bristles of a -brush, tufts deep-black in the centre and white at the edges. He waves -two divergent plumes in front of him and sports a third on his crupper, -like a feathery tail. These three are black hair-pencils of extreme -delicacy. - -His greyish Moth, flattened motionless on the bark, stretches his long -fore-legs, one against the other, in front of him. You would take them, -at a first glance, for antennae of exaggerated proportions. This pose -of the extended limbs has won the insect the scientific label of -Orgyia, arm’s length; and also the vulgar and more expressive -denomination of Patte étendue, or outstretched paw. - -Little Paul has not failed, with my aid, to rear the pretty bearer of -the tufts and brushes. How many times, with his sensitive finger, has -he not stroked the creature’s furry costume? He found it softer than -velvet. And yet, enlarged under the microscope, the caterpillar’s hairs -are horrible barbed spears, no less menacing than those of the -Processionary. The resemblance goes no farther: handled without -precautions, the tufted caterpillar does not provoke even a simple -rash. Nothing could be more harmless than his coat. - -It is evident, then, that the cause of the irritation lies elsewhere -than in the barbs. If the barbed bristles were enough to poison the -fingers, most hairy caterpillars would be dangerous, for nearly all -have spiny bristles. We find, on the contrary, that virulence is -bestowed upon a very small number, which are not distinguished from the -rest by any special structure of the hair. - -That the barbs have a part to play, that of fixing the irritant atom -upon the epidermis, of keeping it anchored in its place, is, after all, -possible; but the shooting pains cannot by any means be caused by the -mere prick of so delicate a harpoon. - -Much less slender, the hairs clustered into pads on the prickly pears -are ferociously barbed. Woe to the fingers that handle this kind of -velvet too confidently! At the least touch they are pierced with -harpoons whose extraction involves a severe tax upon our patience. -Other inconvenience there is little or none, for the action of the barb -is in this case purely mechanical. Supposing—a very doubtful thing—that -the Processionary’s hairs could penetrate our skin, they would act -likewise, only with less effect, if they had merely their sharp points -and their barbs. What then do they possess in addition? - -They must have, not inside them, like the hairs of the nettle, but -outside, on the surface, an irritant agent; they must be coated with a -poisonous mixture, which makes them act by simple contact. - -Let us remove this virus, by means of a solvent; and the -Processionary’s darts, reduced to their insignificant mechanical -action, will be harmless. The solvent, on the other hand, rid of all -hairs by filtration, will be charged with the irritant element, which -we shall be able to test without the agency of the hairs. Isolated and -concentrated, the stinging element, far from losing by this treatment, -ought to gain in virulence. So reflection tells us. - -The solvents tried are confined to three: water, spirits of wine and -sulphuric ether. I employ the latter by preference, although the other -two, spirits of wine especially, have yielded satisfactory results. To -simplify the experiment, instead of submitting to the action of the -solvent the entire caterpillar, who would complicate the extract with -his fats and his nutritive juices, I prefer to employ the cast skin -alone. - -I therefore collect, on the one hand, the heap of dry skins which the -moult of the second phase has left on the dome of the silken dwelling -and, on the other hand, the skins which the caterpillars have rejected -in their cocoons before becoming chrysalids; and I leave the two lots -to infuse, separately, in sulphuric ether for twenty-four hours. The -infusion is colourless. The liquid, carefully filtered, is exposed to -spontaneous evaporation; and the skins are rinsed with ether in the -filter, several times over. - -There are now two tests to be made: one with the skins and one with the -product of maceration. The first is as conclusive as can be. Hairy as -in the normal state and perfectly dried, the skins of both lots, -drained by the ether, produce not the slightest effect, although I rub -myself with them, without the least caution, at the juncture of the -fingers, a spot very sensitive to stinging. - -The hairs are the same as before the action of the solvent: they have -lost none of their barbs, of their javelin-points; and yet they are -ineffectual. They produce no pain or inconvenience whatever. Deprived -of their toxic smearing, these thousands of darts become so much -harmless velvet. The Hedgehog Caterpillar and the Brush Caterpillar are -not more inoffensive. - -The second test is more positive and so conclusive in its painful -effects that one hardly likes to try it a second time. When the -ethereal infusion is reduced by spontaneous evaporation to a few drops, -I soak in it a slip of blotting-paper folded in four, so as to form a -square measuring something over an inch. Too unsuspecting of my -product, I do things on a lavish scale, both as regards the superficial -area of my poor epidermis and the quantity of the virus. To any one who -might wish to renew the investigation I should recommend a less -generous dose. Lastly, the square of paper, that novel sort of -mustard-plaster, is applied to the under surface of the fore-arm. A -thin waterproof sheeting covers it, to prevent it from drying too -rapidly; and a bandage holds it in place. - -For the space of ten hours, I feel nothing; then I experience an -increasing itch and a burning sensation acute enough to keep me awake -for the greater part of the night. Next day, after twenty-four hours of -contact, the poultice is removed. A red mark, slightly swollen and very -clearly outlined, occupies the square which the poisoned paper covered. - -The skin feels sore, as though it had been cauterized, and looks as -rough as shagreen. From each of its tiny pustules trickles a drop of -serous fluid, which hardens into a substance similar in colour to -gum-arabic. This oozing continues for a couple of days and more. Then -the inflammation abates; the pain, hitherto very trying, quiets down; -the skin dries and comes off in little flakes. All is over, except the -red mark, which remains for a long time, so tenacious in its effects is -this extract of Processionary. Three weeks after the experiment, the -little square on the fore-arm subjected to the poison is still -discoloured. - -For thus branding one’s self, does one at least obtain some small -reward? Yes. A little truth is the balm spread upon the wound; and -indeed truth is a sovran balm. It will come presently to solace us for -much greater sufferings. - -For the moment, this painful experiment shows us that the irritation -has not as its primary cause the hairiness of the Processionary. Here -is no hair, no barb, no dart. All of that has been retained by the -filter. We have nothing now but a poisonous agent extracted by the -solvent, the ether. This irritant element recalls, to a certain extent, -that of cantharides, which acts by simple contact. My square of -poisoned blotting-paper was a sort of plaster, which, instead of -raising the epidermis in great blisters, makes it bristle with tiny -pustules. - -The part played by the barbed hairs, those atoms which the least -movement of the air disseminates in all directions, is confined to -conveying to our face and hands the irritant substance in which they -are impregnated. Their barbs hold them in place and thus permit the -virus to act. It is even probable that, by means of slight scratches -which would otherwise pass unnoticed, they assist the action of the -stinging fluid. - -Shortly after handling the Processionaries, a delicate epidermis -becomes tumefied, red and painful. Without being immediate, the action -of the caterpillar is prompt. The extract made with ether, on the other -hand, causes pain and rubefaction only after a longish interval. What -does it need to produce more rapid ulceration? To all appearances, the -action of the hairs. - -The direct stinging caused by the caterpillar is nothing like so -serious as that produced by the ethereal extract concentrated in a few -drops. Never before, in my most painful misadventures, whether with the -silken purses or their inhabitants, have I seen my skin covered with -serous pustules and peeling off in flakes. This time it is a veritable -sore, anything but pleasing to the eye. - -The aggravation is easily explained. I soaked in the ether some fifty -discarded skins. The few drops which remained after the evaporation and -which were absorbed by the square of blotting-paper represented, -therefore, the virulence of a single insect fifty times increased. My -little blistering-plaster was equivalent to the contact of fifty -caterpillars at the same spot. There is no doubt that, if we left them -to steep in considerable numbers, we should obtain extracts of really -formidable strength. It is quite possible that medical science will one -day make good use of this powerful counter-irritant, which is utterly -different from cantharides. - -Whether voluntary victims of our curiosity, which, while affording no -other satisfaction than that of knowledge, exposes us to an intolerable -itch, or sufferers through an accident, what can we do to give a little -relief to the irritation caused by the Processionary? It is good to -know the origin of the evil, but it would be better to apply a remedy. - -One day, with both hands sore from the prolonged examination of a nest, -I try without success lotions of alcohol, glycerine, oil and soapsuds. -Nothing does any good. I then remember a palliative employed by Réaumur -against the sting of the Oak Processionary. Without telling us how he -came to know of the strange specific, the master rubbed himself with -parsley and felt a good deal the better for it. He adds that any other -leaf would probably assuage the irritation in the same way. - -This is a fitting occasion for reopening the subject. Here, in a corner -of the garden, is parsley, green and abundant as one could wish. What -other plant can we compare with it? I choose the purslain, the -spontaneous guest of my vegetable-beds. Mucilaginous and fleshy as it -is, it readily crushes, yielding an emollient liniment. I rub one hand -with parsley and the other with purslain, pressing hard enough to -reduce the leaves to a paste. The result deserves attention. - -With the parsley, the burning is a little less acute, it is true, but, -though relieved, it persists for a long time yet and continues -troublesome. With the purslain, the petty torture ceases almost at once -and so completely that I no longer notice it. My nostrum possesses -incontestable virtues. I recommend it quietly, without blatant -advertisement, to any one who may be persecuted by the Processionary. -Foresters, in their war upon caterpillars’ nests, should find great -relief from it. - -I have also obtained good results with the leaves of the tomato and the -lettuce; and, without pursuing this botanical survey further, I remain -convinced, with Réaumur, that any tender juicy foliage would possess a -certain efficacy. - -As for the mode of action of this specific, I admit that I do not -understand it, any more than I can perceive the mode of action of the -caterpillar’s virus. Molière’s medical student explained the soporific -properties of opium by saying: - -“Quia est in eo virtus dormitava cujus est proprietas sensus -assoupire.” - -Let us say likewise: the crushed herb calms the burning itch because it -possesses a calming virtue whose property is to assuage itching. - -The quip is a good deal more philosophical than it looks. What do we -know of our remedies or of anything? We perceive effects, but we cannot -get back to their causes. - -In my village and for some distance around it, there is a popular -belief that to relieve the pain of a Wasp’s or Bee’s sting all that we -need do is to rub the part stung with three sorts of herbs. Take, they -say, three kinds of herbs, the first that come to hand, make them into -a bunch and rub hard. The prescription, by all accounts, is infallible. - -I thought at first that this was one of those therapeutic absurdities -which have their birth in rustic imaginations. After making a trial, I -admit that what sounds like a nonsensical remedy sometimes has -something genuine about it. Friction with three kinds of herbs does -actually deaden the sting of the Wasp or Bee. - -I hasten to add that the same success is achieved with a single herb; -and so the result agrees with what the parsley and purslain have taught -us in respect of the irritation caused by the Processionary. - -Why three herbs when one is enough? Three is the preeminently lucky -number; it smacks of witchcraft, which is far from detracting from the -virtues of the unguent. All rustic medicine has a touch of magic about -it; and there is merit in doing things by threes. - -Perhaps the specific of the three herbs may even date back to the -materia medica of antiquity. Dioscorides recommends τρίφυλλον: it is, -he states, good for the bite of venomous serpents. To determine this -celebrated three-leaved plant exactly would not be easy. Is it a common -clover? The psoralea, with its pitchy odour? The menyanthes, or -uck-bean, that inmate of the chilly peat-bogs? The oxalis, the -wood-sorrel of the country-side? We cannot tell for certain. The botany -of those days was innocent of the descriptive conscientiousness of -ours. The plant which acted as a poison-antidote grouped its leaves by -threes. That is its essential characteristic. - -Again the cabalistic number, essential to medical virtues as conceived -by the first healers. The peasant, a tenacious conservative, has -preserved the ancient remedy, but, by a happy inspiration, has changed -the three original leaves into three different herbs; he has elaborated -the τρίφυλλον into the threefold foliage which he crushes on the Bee’s -sting. I seem to perceive a certain relation between these artless ways -and the crushing of parsley as described by Réaumur. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -THE ARBUTUS CATERPILLAR - - -I have not found many species of urticating caterpillars in the small -corner of my investigations. I know of two only: the Pine Caterpillar -and the Arbutus Caterpillar. The latter belongs to the genus Liparis. -His Moth, who is a glorious snowy white, with the last rings of the -abdomen bright russet, is very like Liparis auriflua, Fab., from whom -she differs not only in size—she is smaller—but, above all, in the -field of operations selected by her caterpillar. Is the species -classified in our lists? I do not know; and really it is hardly worth -while to enquire. What does a Latin name matter, when one cannot -mistake the insect? I shall be sparing of detail concerning the Arbutus -Caterpillar, for he is far less interesting in his habits than the Pine -Processionary. Only his ravages and his poison deserve serious -attention. - -On the Sérignan hills, sunny heights upon which the Mediterranean -vegetation comes to an end, the arbutus, or strawberry-tree, abounds: a -magnificent shrub, with lustrous evergreen foliage, vermilion fruit, -round and fleshy as strawberries, and hanging clusters of little white -bells resembling those of the lily of the valley. When the frosts come -at the approach of December, nothing could be more charming than the -arbutus, decking its gay verdure with both fruits and flowers, with -coral balls and plump little bells. Alone of our flora, it combines the -flowering of to-day with the ripening of yesterday. - -Then the bright-red raspberries—the darbouses, as we call them -here—beloved by the Blackbird, grow soft and sweet to the palate. The -housewives pluck them and make them into preserves that are not without -merit. As for the shrub itself, when the season for cutting has come, -it is not, despite its beauty, respected by the woodman. It serves, -like any trivial brushwood, in the making of faggots for heating ovens. -Frequently, too, the showy arbutus is ravaged by a caterpillar yet more -to be dreaded than the woodcutter. After this glutton has been at it, -it could not look more desolate had it been scorched and blackened by -fire. - -The Moth, a pretty little, snow-white Bombyx, with superb antennary -plumes and a cotton-wool tippet on her thorax, lays her eggs on a leaf -of the arbutus and, in so doing, starts the evil. - -You see a little cushion with pointed ends, rather less than an inch in -length; a white eiderdown, tinged with russet, thick, very soft and -formed of hairs fixed with a little gum by the end that points towards -the upper extremity of the leaf. The eggs are sunk in the thickness of -this soft shelter. They possess a metallic sheen and look like so many -nickel granules. - -Hatching takes place in September. The first meals are made at the -expense of the native leaf; the later ones at the expense of the leaves -all around. One surface only is nibbled, usually the upper; the other -remains intact, trellised by the network of veins, which are too horny -for the new-born grubs. - -The consumption of leaves is effected with scrupulous economy. Instead -of grazing at hazard and using up the pasturage at the dictates of -individual caprice, the flock progresses gradually from the base to the -tip of the leaf, with all heads ranged in a frontal attack, almost in a -straight line. Not a bite is taken beyond this line, until all that -lies on this side of it is eaten up. - -As it advances, the flock throws a few threads across the denuded -portion, where nothing remains but the veins and the epidermis of the -opposite surface. Thus is woven a gossamer veil serving as a shelter -from the fierce rays of the sun and as the parachute which is essential -to these weaklings, whom a puff of wind would carry away. - -As the result of a more rapid desiccation on the ravaged surface, the -leaf soon begins to curl of its own accord, curving into a gondola -which is covered by a continuous awning stretched from end to end. The -herbage is then exhausted. The flock abandons it and begins again -elsewhere in the near neighbourhood. - -After various temporary pastures of this kind, in November, when the -cold weather is at hand, the caterpillars settle permanently at the end -of a bough. Nibbled one by one on their upper surfaces, the leaves of -the terminal bunch draw close to their neighbours, which, excoriated in -their turn, do the same, until the whole forms a bundle, which looks as -if it had been scorched, lashed together with magnificent white silk. -This is the winter habitation, whence the family, still very feeble, -will not issue until the fine weather returns. - -The assembling of this leafy framework is not due to any special -industry on the caterpillars’ part; they do not stretch their threads -from leaf to leaf and then, by pulling at these ropes, bring the -various pieces of the structure into contact. It is merely the result -of desiccation on the nibbled surfaces. Fixed cables, it is true, -solidly bind together the leaves brought close to one another by the -contraction due to their aridity; but they do not in any way play the -part of a motive mechanism in the work of the assemblage. - -No hauling-ropes are here, no capstans to move the timbers. The feeble -creatures would be incapable of such effort. The thing happens of -itself. Sometimes a floating thread, the plaything of the air, enlaces -some adjacent leaf. This chance footbridge tempts the explorers, who -hasten to strip the accidental prize; and, without other labour, yet -one more leaf bends of its own accord and is added to the enclosure. -For the most part, the house is built by eating; a lodging is procured -by dint of banqueting. - -A comfortable house, tightly closed and well-caulked, proof against -rain and snow. We, to guard ourselves against draughts, put sand-bags -against the cracks of our doors and windows; the extravagant little -Arbutus Caterpillar applies pipings of silk-velvet to his shutters. -Things should be cosy inside, however damp the fog. In bad weather, the -rain drips into my house. The leaf-dwelling knows nothing of such -troubles, so true is it that animals often enjoy advantages which -relegate human industry to the second rank. - -In this shelter of silk and foliage, the worst three or four months of -the year are passed in a state of complete abstinence. No outings; not -a bite of food. In March, this torpor ceases; and the recluses, those -starving bellies, shift their quarters. - -The community now splits up into squads, which spread themselves anyhow -over the adjacent verdure. This is the period of serious devastation. -The caterpillars no longer confine themselves to nibbling one surface -of the leaf; their keen appetites demand the whole of it, down to the -stalk. And now, stage by stage, halt by halt, the arbutus is shorn -bare. - -The vagabonds do not return to their winter dwelling, which has become -too closely cramped. They reassemble in groups and weave, here, there -and everywhere, shapeless tents, temporary huts, abandoned for others -as the pasturage round about becomes exhausted. The denuded boughs, to -all seeming ravaged by fire, take on the look of squalid drying-grounds -hung with rags. - -In June, having acquired their full growth, the caterpillars leave the -arbutus-tree, descend to earth and spin themselves, amid the dead -leaves, a niggardly cocoon, in which the insect’s hairs to some extent -supplement its silk. A month later, the Bombyx appears. - -In his final dimensions, the caterpillar measures nearly an inch and a -quarter in length. His costume does not lack richness or originality: a -black skin with a double row of orange specks on the back; long grey -hairs arranged in bunches; short, snow-white tufts on the sides; and a -couple of brown-velvet protuberances on the first two rings of the -abdomen and also on the last ring but one. - -The most remarkable feature, however, consists of two tiny craters, -always open wide; two cunningly fashioned goblets which might have been -wrought from a drop of red sealing-wax. The sixth and seventh segments -of the abdomen are the only ones that bear these vermilion goblets, -placed in the middle of the back. I do not know the function of these -little cups. Perhaps they should be regarded as organs of information, -similar to the Pine Processionary’s dorsal mouths. - -The Arbutus Caterpillar is much dreaded in the village. Woodcutters, -faggot-binders, brushwood-gatherers, all are unanimous in reviling him. -They have such a painfully vivid memory of the irritation that, when I -listen to them, I can hardly repress a movement of the shoulders to -relieve the imaginary itching in the middle of my back. I seem to feel -the arbutus-faggot, laden with its glowing rags, rubbing my bare skin. - -It is, it appears, a disagreeable job to cut down the shrub alive with -caterpillars during the hottest part of the day and to shake, under the -blows of the axe, that sort of upas-tree, shedding poison in its shade. -As for me, I have no complaint to make of my relations with the ravager -of the arbutus. I have very often handled him; I have applied his fur -to the tips of my fingers, my neck and even my face, for hours at a -time; I have ripped up the nests to extract their populations for the -purpose of my researches; but I have never been inconvenienced. Save in -exceptional circumstances, the approach of the moult perhaps, this -would need a skin less tough than mine. - -The thin skin of a child does not enjoy the same immunity, as witness -little Paul, who, having helped me to empty some nests and to collect -the inhabitants with my forceps, was for hours scratching his neck, -which was dotted with red wheals. My ingenuous assistant was proud of -his sufferings in the cause of science, which resulted from -heedlessness and also perhaps from bravado. In twenty-four hours, the -trouble disappeared, without leaving any serious consequences. - -All this hardly tallies with the painful experiences of which the -woodcutters talk. Do they exaggerate? That is hardly credible; they are -so unanimous. Then something must have been lacking in my experiments: -the propitious moment apparently, the proper degree of maturity in the -caterpillar, the high temperature which aggravates the poison. - -To show itself in its full severity, the urtication demands the -cooperation of certain undefined circumstances; and this cooperation -was wanting. Chance perhaps will one day teach me more than I want to -know; I shall be attacked in the manner familiar to the woodcutters and -shall pass a night in torment, tossing and turning as though on a bed -of live coals. - -What the direct contact of the caterpillar did not teach me the -artifices of chemistry will demonstrate with a violence which I was far -from expecting. I treat the caterpillar with ether, just as I treated -the slough of the Pine Processionary. The number of the creatures taken -for the infusion—they are pretty small as yet, are scarcely half the -size which they will attain when mature—is about a hundred. After a -couple of days’ maceration, I filter the liquid and leave it to -evaporate freely. With the few drops that remain I soak a square of -blotting-paper folded in four and apply it to the inner surface of my -fore-arm, with a thin rubber sheet and a bandage. It is an exact -repetition of what I did with the Pine Processionary. - -Applied in the morning, the blister hardly takes effect until the -following night. Then by degrees the irritation becomes unendurable; -and the burning sensation is so acute that I am tormented every moment -with the desire to tear off the bandage. However, I hold out, but at -the cost of a sleepless, feverish night. - -How well I now understand what the woodcutters tell me! I had less than -a square inch of skin subjected to the torture. What would it be if I -had my back, shoulders, neck, face and arms tormented in this fashion? -I pity you with all my heart, you labourers who are troubled by the -hateful creature. - -On the morrow, the infernal paper is removed. The skin is red and -swollen, covered with tiny pimples whence ooze drops of serous fluid. -For five days the itching persists, with a sharp, burning pain, and the -running from the pimples continues. Then the dead skin dries and comes -off in scabs. All is over, save the redness, which is still perceptible -a month later. - -The demonstration is accomplished; the Arbutus Caterpillar, capable as -he is of producing, under certain conditions, the same effects which I -obtain by artificial means, fully deserves his odious reputation. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -AN INSECT VIRUS - - -One step forward has been taken, but only a very little one as yet, in -the problem of the stinging caterpillars. The drenching with ether -teaches us that hairiness plays a very secondary part in the matter. -With its dust of broken bristles, which the least breath wafts in all -directions, it bothers us by depositing and fixing its irritant coating -upon us; but this virus does not originate in the creature’s fleece; it -comes from elsewhere. What is the source of it? - -I will enter into a few details. Perhaps, in so doing, I shall be of -service to the novice. The subject, which is very simple and sharply -defined, will show us how one question gives rise to another; how -experimental tests confirm or upset hypotheses, which are, as it were, -a temporary scaffolding; and, lastly, how logic, that severe examiner, -leads us by degrees to generalities which are far more important than -anything that we were led to anticipate at the outset. - -And, first of all, does the Pine Processionary possess a special -glandular structure which elaborates the virus, as do, for instance, -the poison-glands of the Wasps and Bees? By no means. Anatomy shows -that the internal structure of the stinging caterpillar is similar to -that of the harmless one. There is nothing more and nothing less. - -The poisonous product, of unlocalized origin, results, therefore, from -a general process in which the entire organism is brought into play. It -should, in consequence, be found in the blood, after the manner of urea -in higher animals. This is a suggestion of grave import, but after all -quite valueless without the conclusive verdict of actual experiment. - -Five or six Processionaries, pricked with the point of a needle, -furnish me with a few drops of blood. I allow these to soak into a -small square of blotting-paper, which I then apply to my fore-arm with -a waterproof bandage. It is not without a certain anxiety that I await -the outcome of the experiment. The result will show whether the -conclusions already forming in my mind will receive a solid basis or -vanish into thin air. - -At a late hour of the night, the pain wakes me, a pain which this time -is an intellectual joy. My anticipations were correct. The blood does -indeed contain the venomous substance. It causes itching, swelling, a -burning sensation, an exudation of serum and, lastly, a shedding of the -skin. I learn more than I had hoped to learn. The test is more valuable -than that of mere contact with the caterpillar could have been. Instead -of treating myself with the small quantity of poison with which the -hairs are smeared, I have gone to the source of the irritant substance -and I thereby gain an increase of discomfort. - -Very happy in my suffering, which sets me on a safe path, I continue my -enquiry by arguing thus: the virus in the blood cannot be a living -substance, one that takes part in the working of the organism; it is -rather, like urea, a form of decay, an offthrow of the vital process, a -waste product which is expelled as and when it forms. If this be the -case, I ought to find it in the caterpillar’s droppings, which are made -up of both the digestive and the urinary residues. - -Let us describe the new experiment, which is no less positive than the -last. I leave a few pinches of very dry droppings, such as are found in -abundance In the old nests, to soak for two days In sulphuric ether. -The liquid, coloured as it is with the chlorophyll of the caterpillar’s -food, turns a dirty green. Then I repeat precisely the process which I -mentioned when I wanted to prove the innocuousness of the hairs -deprived of their poisonous varnish. I refer to it a second time in -order thoroughly to explain the method pursued and to save repetition -in the various experiments undertaken. - -The infusion is filtered, spontaneously evaporated and reduced to a few -drops, with which I soak my stinger. This consists of a small piece of -blotting-paper, folded in four to increase the thickness of the pad and -to give it a greater power of absorption. An area of a square inch or -less suffices; in some cases it is even too much. A novice in this kind -of research-work, I was too lavish with the liniment; and in return for -my generosity I had such a bad time that I make a point of warning any -reader desirous of repeating the experiment upon his own person. - -Fully soaked, the square of paper is applied to the fore-arm, on the -inner surface, where the skin is more tender. A sheet of rubber covers -it and, being waterproof, guards against the loss of the poison. -Finally, a linen bandage keeps the whole in place. - -On the afternoon of the 4th of June 1897, a memorable date for me, I -test, as I have just said, the etheric extract of the Processionary’s -droppings. All night long, I feel a violent itching, a burning -sensation and shooting pains. On the following day, after twenty hours -of contact, I remove the dressing. - -The venomous liquid, too lavishly employed in my fear of failure, has -considerably overflowed the limits of the square of paper. The parts -which it has touched and still more the portion covered by the pad are -swollen and very red; moreover, in the latter case, the skin is ridged, -wrinkled and mortified. It smarts a little and itches; and that is all. - -On the following day, the swelling becomes more pronounced and goes -deep into the muscles, which, when touched with the finger, throb like -an inflamed cheek. The colour is a bright carmine and extends all round -the spot which the paper covered. This is due to the escape of some of -the liquid. There is a plentiful discharge of serum, oozing from the -sore in tiny drops. The smarting and itching increase and become so -intense, especially during the night, that, to get a little sleep, I am -driven to employ a palliative, vaseline with borax and a lint dressing. - -In five days’ time, it has developed into a hideous ulcer, which looks -more painful than it really is. The red, swollen flesh, quivering and -denuded of its epidermis, provokes commiseration. The person who night -and morning renews my dressing of lint and vaseline is almost sick at -the sight. - -“One would think,” she says, “that the dogs had been gnawing your arm. -I do hope you won’t try any more of those horrible decoctions.” - -I allow my sympathetic nurse to talk away and am already meditating -further experiments, some of which will be equally painful. O sacred -truth, what can rival thy power over us mortals! Thou turnest my petty -torment into contentment; thou makest me rejoice in my flayed arm! What -shall I gain by it all? I shall know why a wretched caterpillar sets us -scratching ourselves. Nothing more; and that is enough for me. - -Three weeks later, new skin is forming, but is covered all over with -painful little pimples. The swelling diminishes; the redness persists -and is still very marked. The effect of the infernal paper lasts a long -time. At the end of a month, I still feel an itching, a burning -irritation, which is intensified by the warmth of the bed-clothes. At -last, a fortnight later, all has disappeared but the redness, of which -I shall retain the marks for a long time yet, though it grows gradually -fainter and fainter. It will take three months or more to vanish -altogether. - -We now have some light on the problem: the Processionary’s virus is -certainly an offthrow of the organic factory, a waste product of the -living edifice. The caterpillar discards it with his excrement. But the -material of the droppings has a twofold origin: the greater part -represents the digestive residuum; the rest, in a much smaller -proportion, is composed of the urinary products. To which of the two -does the virus belong? Before going farther, let us permit ourselves a -digression which will assist us in our subsequent enquiries. Let us ask -what advantages the Processionary derives from his urticating product. - -I already hear the answer: - -“It is a means of protection, of defence. With his poisoned mane, he -repels the enemy.” - -I do not clearly perceive the bearing of this explanation. I think of -the creature’s recognized enemies: of the larva of Calosoma sycophanta, -which lives in the nests of the Processionary of the Oak and gobbles up -the inhabitants with never a thought of their burning fleece; of the -Cuckoo, another mighty consumer, so we are told, of the same -caterpillars, who gorges on them to the point of implanting in his -gizzard a bristling coat of their hairs. - -I am not aware if the Processionary of the Pine pays a like tribute. I -do know of at least one of his exploiters. This is a Dermestes, [23] -who establishes himself in the silken city and feeds upon the remains -of the defunct caterpillars. This ghoul assures us of the existence of -other consumers, all furnished with stomachs expressly fashioned for -such highly-seasoned fare. For every harvest of living creatures there -is always a harvester. - -No, the theory of a special virus, expressly prepared to defend the -Processionary and his emulators in urtication, is not the last word on -the subject. I should find it difficult to believe in such a -prerogative. Why have these caterpillars, more than others, need of -protection? What reasons would make of them a caste apart, endowed with -an exceptional defensive venom? The part which they play in the -entomological world does not differ from that of other caterpillars, -hairy or smooth. It is the naked caterpillars who, in default of a mane -capable of striking awe into the assailant, ought, one would think, to -arm themselves against danger and impregnate themselves with -corrosives, instead of remaining a meek and easy prey. Is it likely -that the shaggy, bristling caterpillar should anoint his fleece with a -formidable cosmetic and his smooth-coated kinsman be unfamiliar with -the chemical properties of the poison beneath his satin skin! These -contradictions do not inspire confidence. - -Have we not here, rather, a property common to all caterpillars, -smooth-skinned or hairy? Among the latter, there might be some, just a -few, who, under certain special conditions which will need to be -defined, would be quick to reveal by urtication the venomous nature of -their organic refuse; the others, the vast majority, living outside -these conditions, even though endowed with the necessary product, would -be inexpert at the stinging business and would not produce irritation -by contact. In all, the same virus is to be found, resulting from an -identical vital process. Sometimes it is brought into prominence by the -itching which it produces; sometimes, indeed most often, it remains -latent, unrecognized, if our artifices do not intervene. - -What shall these artifices be? Something very simple. I address myself -to the Silkworm. If there be an inoffensive caterpillar in the world, -it is certainly he. Women and children take him up by the handful in -our Silkworm-nurseries; and their delicate fingers are none the worse -for it. The satin-skinned caterpillar is perfectly innocuous to a skin -almost as tender as his own. - -But this lack of caustic venom is only apparent. I treat with ether the -excretions of the Silkworm; and the infusion, concentrated into a few -drops, is tested according to the usual method. The result is -wonderfully definite. A smarting sore on the arm, similar in its mode -of appearance and in its effects to that produced by the droppings of -the Processionary, assures me that logic was right. - -Yes, the virus which makes one scratch so much, which blisters and eats -away the skin, is not a defensive product vested in only a few -caterpillars. I recognize it, with its invariable properties, even in a -caterpillar which at first sight appears as though it could not possess -anything of the kind. - -The Silkworm’s virus, besides, is not unknown in my village. The casual -observation of the peasant-woman has outstripped the precise -observation of the man of science. The women and girls entrusted with -the rearing of the Silkworm—the magnanarelles as they are -called—complain of certain tribulations caused, they say, by lou verin -di magnan, the Silkworms’ poison. This trouble consists of a violent -itching of the eyelids, which become red and swollen. In the case of -the more susceptible, there is a rash and the skin peels off the -fore-arm, which the turned-up sleeves fail to protect during work. - -I now know the cause of this little trouble, my plucky magnanarelles. -It is not contact with the worm that afflicts you; you need have no -fear of handling him. It is only the litter that you need distrust. -There, jumbled up with the remains of the mulberry-leaves, is a copious -mass of droppings, impregnated with the substance which has just so -painfully eaten into my skin; there and there only is lou verin, as you -call it. - -It is a relief merely to know the cause of one’s trouble; but I will -provide you with another consolation. When you remove the litter and -renew the leaves, you should raise the irritant dust as little as -possible; you should avoid lifting your hands to your face, above all -to your eyes; and it is just as well to turn down your sleeves in order -to protect your arms. If you take these precautions, you will suffer no -unpleasantness. - -The successful result obtained with the Silkworm caused me to foresee a -similar success with any caterpillar that I might come across. The -facts fully confirmed my expectations. I tested the stercoral pellets -of various caterpillars, not selected, but just as the hazard of -collecting provided them: the Great Tortoiseshell, the Heath -Fritillary, the Large Cabbage Butterfly, the Spurge Hawk-moth, the -Great Peacock Moth, the Death’s-head Moth, the Puss-moth, the -Tiger-moth and the Arbutus Liparis. All my tests, with not a single -exception, brought about stinging, of various degrees of violence, it -is true. I attribute these differences in the result to the greater or -lesser quantities of the virus employed, for it is impossible to -measure the dose. - -So the urticating excretion is common to all the caterpillars. By a -very unexpected reversion of the usual order of things, the popular -repugnance is well-founded; prejudice becomes truth: all caterpillars -are venomous. We must draw a distinction, however: with the same -venomous properties, some are inoffensive and others, far less -numerous, are to be feared. Whence comes this difference? - -I note that the caterpillars marked out as stinging live in communities -and weave themselves dwellings of silk, in which they stay for long -periods. Moreover, they are furry. Of this number are the Pine -Processionary, the Oak Processionary and the caterpillars of various -Lipares. - -Let us consider the first-named in particular. His nest, a voluminous -bag spun at the tip of a branch, is magnificent in its silky whiteness, -on the outside; inside, it is a disgusting cesspit. The colony remains -in it all day and for the greater part of the night. It sallies forth -in procession only in the late hours of twilight, to browse upon the -adjacent foliage. This long internment leads to a considerable -accumulation of droppings in the heart of the dwelling. - -From all the threads of this labyrinth hang chaplets of these -droppings; the walls are upholstered with them in all the corridors; -the little narrow chambers are encumbered with them. From a nest the -size of a man’s head I have obtained, with a sieve, over three-quarters -of a pint of stercoral pellets. - -Now it is in the midst of this ordure that the caterpillars live and -have their being; in the midst of it they move, swarm and sleep. The -results of this utter contempt for the rules of cleanliness are -obvious. Certainly, the Processionary does not soil his coat by contact -with those dry pellets; he leaves his home with his costume neat and -glossy, suggesting not a suspicion of uncleanliness. No matter: by -constantly rubbing against the droppings, his bristles are inevitably -smeared with virus and their barbs poisoned. The caterpillar becomes -irritant, because his manner of life subjects him to prolonged contact -with his own ordure. - -Now consider the Hedgehog Caterpillar. Why is he harmless, despite his -fierce and hirsute aspect? Because he lives in isolation and is always -on the move. His mane, apt though it be to collect and retain irritant -particles, will never give us the itch, for the simple reason that the -caterpillar does not lie on his excretions. Distributed all over the -fields and far from numerous, owing to the caterpillar’s solitary -habits, the droppings, though poisonous, cannot transfer their -properties to a fleece which does not come into contact with them. If -the Hedgehog lived in a community, in a nest serving as a cesspit, he -would be the foremost of our stinging caterpillars. - -At first sight, the barrack-rooms of the Silkworm-nurseries seem to -fulfil the conditions necessary to the surface venom of the worms. Each -change of litter results in the removal of basketfuls of droppings from -the trays. Over this heaped-up ordure the Silkworms swarm. How is it -that they do not acquire the poisonous properties of their own -excrement? - -I see two reasons. In the first place, they are hairless; and a -brushlike coat may well be indispensable to the collection of the -virus. In the second place, far from lying in the filth, they live -above the soiled stratum, being largely separated from it by the bed of -leaves, which is renewed several times a day. Despite crowding, the -population of a tray has nothing that can be compared with the ordinary -habits of the Processionary; and so it remains harmless, in spite of -its stercoral toxin. - -These first enquiries lead us to conclusions which themselves are very -remarkable. All caterpillars excrete an urticating matter, which is -identical throughout the series. But, if the poison is to manifest -itself and to cause us that characteristic itching, it is indispensable -that the caterpillar shall dwell in a community, spending long periods -in the nest, a silken bag laden with droppings. These furnish the -virus; the caterpillar’s hairs collect it and transfer it to us. - -The time has come to tackle the problem from another point of view. Is -this formidable matter which always accompanies the excretions a -digestive residuum? Is it not rather one of those waste substances -which the organism engenders while at work, waste substances designated -by the general appellation of urinary products? - -To isolate these products, to collect them separately, would scarcely -be practicable, if we did not have recourse to what follows on the -metamorphosis. Every Moth, on emerging from her chrysalis, rejects a -copious mixture of uric acid and various humours of which very little -is as yet known. It may be compared with the broken plaster of a -building rebuilt on a new plan and represents the by-products of the -mighty labours accomplished in the transfigured insect. These remains -are essentially urinary products, with no admixture of digested -foodstuffs. - -To what insect shall I apply for this residuum? Chance does many -things. I collect, from the old elm-tree in the garden, about a hundred -curious caterpillars. They have seven rows of prickles of an amber -yellow, a sort of bush with four or five branches. I shall learn from -the Butterfly that they belong to the Great Tortoiseshell (Vanessa -polychloros, Lin.). - -Reared on elm-leaves under a wire-gauze cover, my caterpillars undergo -their transformation towards the end of May. Their chrysalids are -specked with brown on a whitish ground and display on the under surface -six radiant silvery spots, a sort of decorative tinsel, like so many -mirrors. Fixed by the tail with a silken pad, they hang from the top of -the dome, swinging at the least movement and emitting vivid flashes of -light from their reflectors. My children are amazed at this living -chandelier. It is a treat for them when I allow them to come and admire -it in my animal studio. - -Another surprise awaits them, this time a tragic one, however. A -fortnight later, the Butterflies emerge. I have placed under the cover -a large sheet of white paper, which will receive the desired products. -I call the children. What do they see on the paper? - -Large spots of blood. Under their very eyes, from up there, at the top -of the dome, a butterfly lets fall a great red drop: plop! No joy for -the children to-day; anxiety rather, almost fear. - -I send them away, saying to them: - -“Be sure and remember, kiddies, what you have just seen; and, if ever -any one talks to you about showers of blood, don’t be silly and -frightened. A pretty Butterfly is the cause of those blood-red stains, -which have been known to terrify country-folk. The moment she is born, -she casts out, in the form of a red liquid, the remains of her old -caterpillar body, a body remodelled and reborn in a beautiful shape. -That is the whole secret.” - -When my artless visitors have departed, I resume my examination of the -rain of blood falling under the cover. Still clinging to the shell of -its chrysalis, each Tortoiseshell ejects and sheds upon the paper a -great red drop, which, if left standing, deposits a powdery pink -sediment, composed of urates. The liquid is now a deep crimson. - -When the whole thing is perfectly dry, I cut out of the spotted paper -some of the richer stains and steep the bits in ether. The spots on the -paper remain as red as at the outset; and the liquid assumes a light -lemon tint. When reduced by evaporation to a few drops, this liquid -provides me with what I require to soak my square of blotting-paper. - -What shall I say to avoid repeating myself? The effects of the new -caustic are precisely the same as those which I experienced when I used -the droppings of the Processionary. The same itching, the same burning, -the same swelling with the flesh throbbing and inflamed, the same -serous exudation, the same peeling of the skin, the same persistent -redness, which lingers for three or four months, long after the -ulceration itself has disappeared. - -Without being very painful, the sore is so irksome and above all looks -so ugly that I swear never to let myself in for it again. Henceforth, -without waiting for the thing to eat into my flesh, I shall remove the -caterpillar plaster as soon as I feel a conclusive itching. - -In the course of these painful experiences, friends upbraid me with not -having recourse to the assistance of some animal, such as the -Guinea-pig, that stock victim of the physiologists. I take no note of -their reproaches. The animal is a stoic. It says nothing of its -sufferings. If, the torture being a little too intense, it complains, I -am in no position to interpret its cries exactly or to attribute them -to a definite impression. - -The Guinea-pig will not say: - -“It smarts, it itches, it burns.” - -He will simply say: - -“That hurts.” - -As I want to know the details of the sensations experienced, the best -thing is to resort to my own skin, the only witness on whose evidence I -can rely implicitly. - -At the risk of provoking a smile, I will venture on another confession. -As I begin to see into the matter more clearly, I hesitate to torture -or destroy a single creature in God’s great community. The life of the -least of these is a thing to be respected. We can take it away, but we -cannot give it. Peace to those innocents, so little interested in our -investigations! What does our restless curiosity matter to their calm -and sacred ignorance? If we wish to know, let us pay the price -ourselves as far as possible. The acquisition of an idea is well worth -the sacrifice of a bit of skin. - -The Elm Tortoiseshell, with her rain of blood, may leave us to a -certain extent in doubt. Might not this strange red substance, with its -unusual appearance, contain a poison which is likewise exceptional? I -address myself therefore to the Mulberry Bombyx, to the Pine Bombyx and -to the Great Peacock. I collect the uric excretions ejected by the -newly hatched Moths. - -This time, the liquid is whitish, sullied here and there with uncertain -tints. There is no blood-red colouration; but the result is the same. -The virulent energy manifests itself in the most definite manner. -Therefore the Processionary’s virus exists equally in all caterpillars, -in all Butterflies and Moths emerging from the chrysalis; and this -virus is a by-product of the organism, a urinary product. - -The curiosity of our minds is insatiable. The moment a reply is -obtained, a fresh question arises. Why should the Lepidoptera alone be -endowed in this manner? The organic labours accomplished within them -cannot differ greatly, as to the nature of the materials, from those -presiding over the maintenance of life in other insects. Therefore -these others also elaborate a by-product which has stinging powers. -This can be verified—and that forthwith—with the elements at my -disposal. - -The first reply is furnished by Cetonia floricola, of which Beetle I -collect half a dozen chrysalids from a heap of leaves half-converted -into mould. A box receives my find, laid on a sheet of white paper, on -which the urinary fluid of the perfect insect will fall as soon as the -caskets are broken. - -The weather is favourable and I have not long to wait. The thing is -done: the matter rejected is white, the usual colour of these residua, -in the great majority of insects, at the moment of the metamorphosis. -Though by no means abundant, it nevertheless provokes on my fore-arm a -violent itching, together with mortification of the skin, which comes -off in flakes. The reason why it does not display a more distinct sore -is that I judged it prudent to end the experiment. The burning and -itching tell me enough as to the results of a contact unduly prolonged. - -Now to the Hymenoptera. I have not in my possession, I regret to say, -any of those with whom my rearing-chambers used formerly to provide me, -whether Honey-bee or Hunting Wasps. I have only a Green Saw-fly, whose -larva lives in numerous families on the leaves of the alder. Reared -under cover, this larva provides me with enough tiny black droppings to -fill a thimble. That is sufficient: the urtication is quite definite. - -I take next the insects with incomplete transformations. My recent -rearings have given me quite a collection of excretions emanating from -the Orthoptera. I consult those of the Vine Ephippiger [24] and the -Great Grey Locust. Both sting to a degree which once more makes me -regret my lavish hand. - -We will be satisfied with this; indeed my arms demand as much, for, -tattooed with red squares, they refuse to make room for fresh -brandings. The examples are sufficiently varied to impose the following -conclusion: the Processionary’s virus is found in a host of other -insects, apparently even in the entire series. It is a urinary product -inherent in the entomological organism. - -The dejections of insects, especially those evacuated at the end of the -metamorphosis, contain or are even almost entirely composed of urates. -Can the stinging material be the inevitable associate of uric acid? It -should then form part of the excrement of the bird and the reptile, -which in both cases is very rich in urates. Here again is a suspicion -worthy of verification by experiment. - -For the moment it is impossible for me to question the reptile; it is -easy, on the other hand, to interrogate the bird, whose reply will -suffice. I accept what is offered by chance: an insectivorous bird, the -Swallow, and a graminivorous bird, the Goldfinch. Well, their urinary -dejections, when carefully separated from the digestive residua, have -not the slightest stinging effect. The virus that causes itching is -independent therefore of uric acid. It accompanies it in the insect -class, without being its invariable concomitant every elsewhere. - -A last step remains for us to take, namely, to isolate the stinging -element and to obtain it in quantities permitting of precise enquiries -into its nature and properties. It seems to me that medical science -might turn to account a material whose energy rivals that of -cantharides, if it does not exceed it. The question appeals to me. I -would gladly return to my beloved chemistry; but I should want -reagents, apparatus, a laboratory, a whole costly arsenal of which I -must not dream, afflicted as I am with a terrible ailment: -impecuniosity, the searcher’s habitual lot. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -THE PSYCHES: THE LAYING - - -In the springtime, old walls and dusty roads harbour a surprise for -whoso has eyes to see. Tiny faggots, for no apparent reason, set -themselves in motion and make their way along by sudden jerks. The -inanimate comes to life, the immovable stirs. How does this come about? -Look closer and the motive power will stand revealed. - -Enclosed within the moving bundle is a fairly well-developed -caterpillar, prettily striped in black and white. Seeking for food or -perhaps for a spot where the transformation can be effected, he hurries -along timidly, attired in a queer rig-out of twigs from which nothing -emerges except the head and the front part of the body, which is -furnished with six short legs. At the least alarm he goes right in and -does not budge again. This is the whole secret of the little roaming -bundle of sticks. - -The faggot caterpillar belongs to the Psyche group, whose name conveys -an allusion to the classic Psyche, symbolical of the soul. We must not -allow this phrase to carry our thoughts to loftier heights than is -fitting. The nomenclator, with his rather circumscribed view of the -world, did not trouble about the soul when inventing his descriptive -label. He simply wanted a pretty name; and certainly he could have hit -on nothing better. - -To protect himself from the weather, our chilly, bare-skinned Psyche -builds himself a portable shelter, a travelling cottage which the owner -never leaves until he becomes a Moth. It is something better than a hut -on wheels with a thatched roof to it: it is a hermit’s frock, made of -an unusual sort of frieze. In the valley of the Danube the peasant -wears a goatskin cloak fastened with a belt of rushes. The Psyche dons -an even more rustic apparel. He makes himself a suit of clothes out of -hop-poles. It is true that, beneath this rude conglomeration, which -would be a regular hair-shirt to a skin as delicate as his, he puts a -thick lining of silk. The Clythra Beetle garbs himself in pottery; this -one dresses himself in a faggot. - -In April, on the walls of my chief observatory, that famous pebbly acre -with its wealth of insect life, I find the Psyche who is to furnish me -with my most circumstantial and detailed records. [25] He is at this -period in the torpor of the approaching metamorphosis. As we can ask -him nothing else for the moment, let us look into the construction and -composition of his faggot. - -It is a not irregular structure, spindle-shaped and about an inch and a -half long. The pieces that compose it are fixed in front and free at -the back, are arranged anyhow and would form a rather ineffective -shelter against the sun and rain if the recluse had no other protection -than his thatched roof. - -The word thatch is suggested to my mind by a summary inspection of what -I see, but it is not an exact expression in this case. On the contrary, -graminaceous straws are rare, to the great advantage of the future -family, which, as we shall learn presently, would find nothing to suit -them in jointed planks. What predominates is remnants of very small -stalks, light, soft and rich in pith, such as are possessed by various -Chicoriaceæ. I recognize in particular the floral stems of the -mouse-ear hawkweed and the Nimes pterotheca. Next come bits of -grass-leaves, scaly twigs provided by the cypress-tree and all sorts of -little sticks, coarse materials adopted for the lack of anything -better. Lastly, if the favourite cylindrical pieces fall short, the -mantle is sometimes finished off with an ample flounced tippet, that is -to say, with fragments of dry leaves of any kind. - -Incomplete as it is, this list shows us that the caterpillar apart from -his preference for pithy morsels, has no very exclusive tastes. He -employs indifferently anything that he comes upon, provided that it be -light, very dry, softened by long exposure to the air and of suitable -dimensions. All his finds, if they come anywhere near his estimates, -are used just as they are, without any alterations or sawing to reduce -them to the proper length. The Psyche does not trim the laths that go -to form his roof; he gathers them as he finds them. His work is limited -to imbricating them one after the other by fixing them at the fore-end. - -In order to lend itself to the movements of the journeying caterpillar -and in particular to facilitate the action of the head and legs when a -new piece is to be placed in position, the front part of the sheath -requires a special structure. Here a casing of beams is no longer -allowable, for their length and stiffness would hamper the artisan and -even make his work impossible; what is essential here is a flexible -neck, able to bend in all directions. The assemblage of stakes does, in -fact, end suddenly at some distance from the fore-part and is there -replaced by a collar in which the silken woof is merely hardened with -very tiny ligneous particles, tending to strengthen the material -without impairing its flexibility. This collar, which gives free -movement, is so important that all the Psyches make equal use of it, -however much the rest of the work may differ. All carry, in front of -the faggot of sticks, a yielding neck, soft to the touch, formed inside -of a web of pure silk and velveted outside with a fine sawdust which -the caterpillar obtains by crushing with his mandibles any sort of dry -straw. - -A similar velvet, but lustreless and faded, apparently through age, -finishes the sheath at the back, in the form of a rather long, bare -appendix, open at the end. - -Let us now remove the outside of the straw envelope, shredding it -piecemeal. The demolition gives us a varying number of joists: I have -counted as many as eighty and more. The ruin that remains is a -cylindrical sheath wherein we discover, from one end to the other, the -structure which we perceived at the front and rear, the two parts which -are naturally bare. The tissue everywhere is of very stout silk, which -resists without breaking when pulled by the fingers, a smooth tissue, -beautifully white inside, drab and wrinkled outside, where it bristles -with encrusted woody particles. - -There will be an opportunity later to discover by what means the -caterpillar makes himself so complicated a garment, in which are laid -one upon the other, in a definite order, first, the extremely fine -satin which is in direct contact with the skin; next, the mixed stuff, -a sort of frieze dusted with ligneous matter, which saves the silk and -gives consistency to the work; lastly, the surtout of overlapping -laths. - -While retaining this general threefold arrangement, the scabbard offers -notable variations of structural detail in the different species. Here, -for instance, is a second Psyche, [26] the most belated of the three -which I have chanced to come upon. I meet him towards the end of June, -hurrying across some dusty path near the houses. His cases surpass -those of the previous species both in size and in regularity of -arrangement. They form a thick coverlet, of many pieces, in which I -recognize here fragments of hollow stalks, there bits of fine straw, -with perhaps straps formed of blades of grass. In front there is never -any mantilla of dead leaves, a troublesome piece of finery which, -without being in regular use, is pretty frequent in the costume of the -first-named species. At the back, no long, denuded vestibule. Save for -the indispensable collar at the aperture, all the rest is cased in -logs. There is not much variety about the thing, but, when all is said, -there is a certain elegance in its stern faultlessness. - -The smallest in size and simplest in dress is the third, [27] who is -very common at the end of winter on the walls, as well as in the -furrows of the barks of gnarled old trees, be they olive-trees, -holm-oaks, elms or almost any other. His case, a modest little bundle, -is hardly more than two-fifths of an inch in length. A dozen rotten -straws, gleaned at random and fixed close to one another in a parallel -direction, represent, with the silk sheath, his whole outlay on dress. -It would be difficult to clothe one’s self more economically. - -This pigmy, apparently so uninteresting, shall supply us with our first -records of the curious life-story of the Psyches. I gather him in -profusion in April and instal him in a wire bell-jar. What he eats I -know not. My ignorance would be grievous under other conditions; but at -present I need not trouble about provisions. Taken from their walls and -trees, where they had suspended themselves for their transformation, -most of my little Psyches are in the chrysalis state. A few of them are -still active. They hasten to clamber to the top of the trellis-work; -they fix themselves there perpendicularly by means of a little silk -cushion; then everything is still. - -June comes to an end; and the male Moths are hatched, leaving the -chrysalid wrapper half caught in the case, which remains fixed where it -is and will remain there indefinitely until dismantled by the weather. -The emergence is effected through the hinder end of the bundle of -sticks, the only way by which it can be effected. Having permanently -closed the top opening, the real door of the house, by fastening it to -the support which he has chosen, the caterpillar therefore has turned -the other way round and undergone his transformation in a reversed -position, which enables the adult insect to emerge through the outlet -made at the back, the only one now free. - -For that matter, this is the method followed by all the Psyches. The -case has two apertures. The front one, which is more regular and more -carefully constructed, is at the caterpillar’s service so long as -larval activity lasts. It is closed and firmly fastened to its support -at the time of the nymphosis. The hinder one, which is faulty and even -hidden by the sagging of the sides, is at the Moth’s service. It does -not really open until right at the end, when pushed by the chrysalis or -the adult insect. - -In their modest pearl-grey dress, with their insignificant -wing-equipment, hardly exceeding that of a Common Fly, our little Moths -are still not without elegance. They have handsome feathery plumes for -antennæ; their wings are edged with delicate fringes. They whirl very -fussily inside the bell-jar; they skim the ground, fluttering their -wings; they crowd eagerly around certain sheaths which nothing on the -outside distinguishes from the others. They alight upon them and sound -them with their plumes. - -This feverish agitation marks them as lovers in search of their brides. -This one here, that one there, each of them finds his mate. But the coy -one does not leave her home. Things happen very discreetly through the -wicket left open at the free end of the case. The male stands on the -threshold of this back-door for a little while; and then it is over: -the wedding is finished. There is no need for us to linger over these -nuptials in which the parties concerned do not know, do not see each -other. - -I hasten to place in a glass tube the few cases in which the mysterious -events have happened. Some days later, the recluse comes out of the -sheath and shows herself in all her wretchedness. Call that little -fright a Moth! One cannot easily get used to the idea of such poverty. -The caterpillar of the start was no humbler-looking. There are no -wings, none at all; no silky fur either. At the tip of the abdomen, a -round, tufty pad, a crown of dirty-white velvet; on each segment, in -the middle of the back, a large rectangular dark patch: these are the -sole attempts at ornament. The mother Psyche renounces all the beauty -which her name of Moth promised. - -From the centre of the hairy coronet a long ovipositor stands out, -consisting of two parts, one stiff, forming the base of the implement, -the other soft and flexible, sheathed in the first just as a telescope -fits in its tube. The laying mother bends herself into a hook, grips -the lower end of her case with her six feet and drives her probe into -the back-window, a window which serves manifold purposes, allowing of -the consummation of the clandestine marriage, the emergence of the -fertilized bride, the installation of the eggs and, lastly, the exodus -of the young family. - -There, at the free end of her case, the mother remains for a long time, -bowed and motionless. What can she be doing in this contemplative -attitude? She is lodging her eggs in the house which she has just left; -she is bequeathing the maternal cottage to her heirs. Some thirty hours -pass and the ovipositor is at last withdrawn. The laying is finished. - -A little wadding, supplied by the coronet on the hind-quarters, closes -the door and allays the dangers of invasion. The fond mother makes a -barricade for her brood of the sole ornament which, in her extreme -indigence, she possesses. Better still, she makes a rampart of her -body. Bracing herself convulsively on the threshold of her home, she -dies there, dries up there, devoted to her family even after death. It -needs an accident, a breath of air, to make her fall from her post. - -Let us now open the case. It contains the chrysalid wrapper, intact -except for the front breach through which the Psyche emerged. The male, -because of his wings and his plumes, very cumbersome articles when he -is about to make his way through the narrow pass, takes advantage of -his chrysalis state to make a start for the door and come out half-way. -Then, bursting his amber tunic, the delicate Moth finds an open space, -where flight is possible, right in front of him. The mother, unprovided -with wings and plumes, is not compelled to observe any such -precautions. Her cylindrical form, bare and differing but little from -that of the caterpillar, allows her to crawl, to slip into the narrow -passage and to come forth without obstacle. Her cast chrysalid skin is, -therefore, left right at the back of the case, well covered by the -thatched roof. - -And this is an act of prudence marked by exquisite tenderness. The -eggs, in fact, are packed in the barrel, in the parchmentlike wallet -formed by the slough. The mother has thrust her telescopic ovipositor -to the bottom of that receptacle and has methodically gone on laying -until it is full. Not satisfied with bequeathing her home and her -velvet coronet to her offspring, as a last sacrifice she leaves them -her skin. - -With a view to observing at my ease the events which are soon to -happen, I extract one of these chrysalid bags, stuffed with eggs, from -its faggot and place it by itself, beside its case, in a glass tube. I -have not long to wait. In the first week of July, I find myself all of -a sudden in possession of a large family. The quickness of the hatching -balked my watchfulness. The new-born caterpillars, about forty in -number, have already had time to garb themselves. - -They wear a Persian head-dress, a mage’s tiara in dazzling white plush. -Or, to abandon high-flown language, let us say a cotton night-cap -without a tassel; only the cap does not stand up from the head: it -covers the hind-quarters. Great animation reigns in the tube, which is -a spacious residence for such vermin. They roam about gaily, with their -caps sticking up almost perpendicular to the floor. With a tiara like -that and things to eat, life must be sweet indeed. - -But what do they eat? I try a little of everything that grows on the -bare stone and the gnarled old trees. Nothing is welcomed. More eager -to dress than to feed themselves, the Psyches scorn what I set before -them. My ignorance as an insect-breeder will not matter, provided that -I succeed in seeing with what materials and in what manner the first -outlines of the cap are woven. - -I may fairly hope to achieve this ambition, as the chrysalid bag is far -from having exhausted its contents. I find in it, teeming amid the -rumpled wrapper of the eggs, an additional family as numerous as the -swarm that is already out. The total laying must therefore amount to -five or six dozen. I transfer to another receptacle the precocious band -which is already dressed and keep only the naked laggards in the tube. -They have bright red heads, with the rest of their bodies dirty white; -and they measure hardly a twenty-fifth of an inch in length. - -My patience is not long put to the test. Next day, little by little, -singly or in groups, the belated grubs quit the chrysalid bag. They -come out without breaking the frail wallet, through the front breach -made by the liberation of the mother. Not one of them utilizes it as a -dress-material, though it has the delicacy and amber colouring of an -onion-skin; nor do any of them make use of a fine quilting which lines -the inside of the bag and forms an exquisitely soft bed for the eggs. -This down, whose origin we shall have to investigate presently, ought, -one would say, to make an excellent blanket for these chilly ones, -impatient to cover themselves up. Not a single one uses it; there would -not be enough to go round. - -All go straight to the coarse faggot, which I left in contact with the -wallet that was the chrysalis. Time presses. Before making your -entrance into the world and going agrazing, you must first be clad. All -therefore, with equal fury, attack the old sheath and hastily dress -themselves in the mother’s cast clothes. Some turn their attention to -bits that happen to be open lengthwise and scrape the soft, white inner -layer; others, greatly daring, penetrate into the tunnel of a hollow -stalk and go and collect their cotton goods in the dark. At such times -the materials are first-class; and the garment woven is of a dazzling -white. Others bite deep into the piece which they select and make -themselves a motley garment, in which dark-coloured particles mar the -snowy whiteness of the rest. - -The tool which they use for their gleaning consists of the mandibles, -shaped like wide shears with five strong teeth apiece. The two planes -fit into each other and form an implement capable of seizing and -slicing any fibre, however small. Seen under the microscope, it is a -wonderful specimen of mechanical precision and power. Were the Sheep -similarly equipped in proportion to her size, she would browse upon the -bottom of the trees instead of cropping the grass. - -A very instructive workshop is that of the Psyche-vermin toiling to -make themselves a cotton night-cap. There are numbers of things to -remark in both the finish of the work and the ingenuity of the methods -employed. To avoid repeating ourselves, we will say nothing about these -yet, but wait for a little and return to the subject when setting forth -the talents of a second Psyche, of larger stature and easier to -observe. The two weavers observe exactly the same procedure. - -Nevertheless let us take a glance at the bottom of the egg-cup, a -general workyard in which I instal my dwarfs as the cases turn them -out. There are some hundreds of them, with the sheaths from which they -came and an assortment of clipped stalks, chosen from among the driest -and richest in pith. What a whirl! What bewildering animation! - -In order to see man, Micromégas cut himself a lens out of a diamond of -his necklace; he held his breath lest the storm from his nostrils -should blow the mite away. I in my turn will be the good giant, newly -arriving from Sirius; I screw a magnifying-glass into my eye and am -careful not to breathe for fear of overturning and sweeping out of -existence my cotton-workers. If I need one of them, to focus him under -a stronger glass, I lime him as it were, seizing him with the fine -point of a needle which I have passed over my lips. Taken away from his -work, the tiny caterpillar struggles at the end of the needle, shrivels -up, makes himself, small as he is, still smaller; he strives to -withdraw as far as possible into his clothing, which as yet is -incomplete, the merest flannel vest or even a narrow scarf, covering -nothing but the top of his shoulders. Let us leave him to complete his -coat. I give a puff; and the creature is swallowed up in the crater of -the egg-cup. - -And this speck is alive. It is industrious; it is versed in the art of -blanket-making. An orphan, born that moment, it knows how to cut itself -out of its dead mother’s old clothes the wherewithal to clothe itself -in its turn. Soon it will become a carpenter, an assembler of timber, -to make a defensive covering for its delicate fabric. What must -instinct be, to be capable of awakening such industries in an atom! - -It is at the end of June also that I obtain, in his adult shape, the -Psyche whose scabbard is continued underneath by a long, naked -vestibule. Most of the cases are fastened by a silk pad to the -trelliswork of the cage and hang vertically, like stalactites. Some few -of them have never left the ground. Half immersed in the sand, they -stand erect, with their rear in the air and their fore-part buried and -firmly anchored to the side of the pan by means of a silky paste. - -This inverted position excludes any idea of weight as a guide in the -caterpillar’s preparations. An adept at turning round in his cabin, he -is careful, before he sinks into the immobility of pupadom, to turn his -head now upwards, now downwards, towards the opening, so that the adult -insect, which is much less free than the larva in its movements, may -reach the outside without obstacle. - -Moreover, it is the pupa itself, the unbending chrysalis, incapable of -turning and obliged to move all in one piece, which, stubbornly -crawling, carries the male to the threshold of the case. It emerges -half way at the end of the uncovered silky vestibule and there breaks, -obstructing the opening with its slough as it does so. For a time the -Moth stands still on the roof of the cottage, allowing his humours to -evaporate, his wings to spread and gather strength; then at last the -gallant takes flight, in search of her for whose sake he has made -himself so spruce. - -He wears a costume of deepest black, all except the edges of the wings, -which, having no scales, remain diaphanous. His antennæ, likewise -black, are wide and graceful plumes. Were they on a larger scale, they -would throw the feathered beauty of the Marabou and Ostrich into the -shade. The bravely beplumed one visits case after case in his tortuous -flight, prying into the secrets of those alcoves. If things go as he -wishes, he settles, with a quick flutter of his wings, on the extremity -of the denuded vestibule. Comes the wedding, as discreet as that of the -smaller Psyche. Here is yet another who does not see or at most catches -a fleeting glimpse of her for whose sake he has donned Marabou-feathers -and a black-velvet cloak. - -The recluse on her side is equally impatient. The lovers are -short-lived; they die in my cages within three or four days, so that, -for long intervals, until the hatching of some late-comer, the female -population is short of suitors. So, when the morning sun, already hot, -strikes the cage, a very singular spectacle is repeated many times -before my eyes. The entrance to the vestibule swells imperceptibly, -opens and emits a mass of infinitely delicate down. A Spider’s web, -carded and made into wadding, would give nothing of such gossamer -fineness. It is a vaporous cloud. Then, from out of this incomparable -eiderdown, appear the head and fore-part of a very different sort of -caterpillar from the original collector of straws. - -It is the mistress of the house, the marriageable Moth, who, feeling -her hour about to come and failing to receive the expected visit, -herself makes the advances and goes, as far as she can, to meet her -plumed swain. He does not come hastening up and for good reason: there -is not a male left in the establishment. For two or three hours the -poor forsaken one leans, without moving, from her window. Then, tired -of waiting, very gently she goes indoors again, backwards, and returns -to her cell. - -Next day, the day after and later still, as long as her strength -permits, she reappears on her balcony, always in the morning, in the -soft rays of a warm sun and always on a sofa of that incomparable down, -which disperses and turns to vapour if I merely fan it with my hand. -Again no one comes. For the last time the disappointed Moth goes back -to her boudoir, never to leave it again. She dies in it, dries up, a -useless thing. I hold my bell-jars responsible for this crime against -motherhood. In the open fields, without a doubt, sooner or later wooers -would have appeared, coming from the four winds. - -The said bell-jars have an even more pitiful catastrophe on their -conscience. Sometimes, leaning too far from her window, miscalculating -the balance between the front of the body, which is at liberty, and the -back, which remains sheathed in its case, the Moth allows herself to -drop to the ground. It is all up now with the fallen one and her -lineage. Still, there is one good thing about it. Accidents such as -this lay bare the mother Psyche, without our having to break into her -house. - -What a miserable creature she is, a great deal uglier than the original -caterpillar! Here transfiguration spells disfigurement, progress means -retrogression. What we have before our eyes is a wrinkled satchel, an -earthy-yellow sausage; and this horror, worse than a maggot, is a Moth -in the full bloom of life, a genuine adult Moth. She is the betrothed -of the elegant black Bombyx, all plumed with Marabou-feathers, and -represents to him the last word in beauty. As the proverb says, beauty -lies in lovers’ eyes: a profound truth which the Psyche confirms in -striking fashion. - -Let us describe the ugly little sausage. A very small head, a paltry -globule, disappearing almost entirely in the folds of the first -segment. What need is there of cranium and brains for a germ-bag! And -so the tiny creature almost does without them, reduces them to the -simplest expression. Nevertheless, there are two black ocular specks. -Do these vestigial eyes see their way about? Not very clearly, we may -be sure. The pleasures of light must be very small for this -stay-at-home, who appears at her window only on rare occasions, when -the male Moth is late in arriving. - -The legs are well-shaped, but so short and weak that they are of no use -at all for locomotion. The whole body is a pale yellow, semitransparent -in front, opaque and stuffed with eggs behind. Underneath the first -segments is a sort of neck-band, that is to say, a dark stain, the -vestige of a crop showing through the skin. A pad of short down ends -the oviferous part at the back. It is all that remains of a fleece, of -a thin velvet which the insect rubs off as it moves backwards and -forwards in its narrow lodging. This forms the flaky mass which whitens -the trysting-window at the wedding-time and also lines the inside of -the sheath with down. In short, the creature is little more than a bag -swollen with eggs for the best part of its length. I know nothing lower -in the scale of wretchedness. - -The germ-bag moves, but not, of course, with those vestiges of legs -which form too short and feeble supports; it gets about in a way that -allows it to progress on its back, belly or side indifferently. A -groove is hollowed out at the hinder end of the bag, a deep, dividing -groove which cuts the insect into two. It runs to the front part, -spreading like a wave, and gently and slowly reaches the head. This -undulation constitutes a step. When it is done, the animal has advanced -about a twenty-fifth part of an inch. - -To go from one end to the other of a box two inches long and filled -with fine sand, the living sausage takes nearly an hour. It is by -crawling like this that it moves about in its case, when it comes to -the threshold to meet its visitor and goes in again. - -For three or four days, exposed to the roughness of the soil, the -oviferous bag leads a wretched life, creeping about at random, or, more -often, standing still. No Moth pays attention to the poor thing, who -possesses no attractions outside her home; the lovers pass by with an -indifferent air. This coolness is logical enough. Why should she become -a mother, if her family is to be abandoned to the inclemencies of the -public way? And so, after falling by accident from her case, which -would have been the cradle of the youngsters, the wanderer withers in a -few days and dies childless. - -The fertilized ones—and these are the more numerous—the prudent ones -who have saved themselves from a fall by being less lavish with their -appearances at the window, reenter the sheath and do not show -themselves again once the Moth’s visit to the threshold is over. Let us -wait a fortnight and then open the case lengthwise with our scissors. -At the end, in the widest part, opposite the vestibule, is the slough -of the chrysalis, a long, fragile, amber-coloured sack, open at the end -that contains the head, the end facing the exit-passage. In this sack, -which she fills like a mould, lies the mother, the egg-bladder, now -giving no sign of life. - -From this amber sheath, which presents all the usual characteristics of -a chrysalis, the adult Psyche emerged, in the guise of a shapeless -Moth, looking like a big maggot; at the present time, she has slipped -back into her old jacket, moulding herself into it in such a way that -it becomes difficult to separate the container from the contents. One -would take the whole thing for a single body. - -It seems very likely that this cast skin, which occupies the best place -in the home, formed the Psyche’s refuge when, weary of waiting on the -threshold of her hall, she retired to the back room. She has therefore -gone in and out repeatedly. This constant going and coming, this -continual rubbing against the sides of a narrow corridor, just wide -enough for her to pass through, ended by stripping her of her down. She -had a fleece to start with, a very light and scanty fleece, it is true, -but still a vestige of the costume which Moths are wont to wear. This -fluff she has lost. What has she done with it? - -The Eider robs herself of her down to make a luxurious bed for her -brood; the new-born Rabbits lie on a mattress which their mother cards -for them with the softest part of her fur, shorn from the belly and -neck, wherever the shears of her front teeth can reach it. This fond -tenderness is shared by the Psyche, as you will see. - -In front of the chrysalid bag is an abundant mass of extra-fine -wadding, similar to that of which a few flocks used to fall outside on -the occasions when the recluse went to her window. Is it silk? Is it -spun muslin? No; but it is something of incomparable delicacy. The -microscope recognizes it as the scaly dust, the impalpable down in -which every Moth is clad. To give a snug shelter to the little -caterpillars who will soon be swarming in the case, to provide them -with a refuge in which they can play about and gather strength before -entering the wide world, the Psyche has stripped herself of her fur -like the mother Rabbit. - -This denudation may be a mere mechanical result, an unintentional -effect of repeated rubbing against the low-roofed walls; but there is -nothing to tell us so. Maternity has its foresight, even among the -humblest. I therefore picture the hairy Moth twisting about, going to -and fro in the narrow passage in order to get rid of the fleece and -prepare bedding for her offspring. It is even possible that she manages -to use her lips, that vestige of a mouth, in order to pull out the down -that refuses to come away of itself. - -No matter what the method of shearing may be, a mound of scales and -hairs fills up the case in front of the chrysalid bag. For the moment, -it is a barricade preventing access to the house, which is open at the -hinder end; soon, it will be a downy couch on which the little -caterpillars will rest for a while after leaving the egg. Here, warmly -ensconced in a rug of extreme softness, they call a halt as a -preparation for the emergence and the work that follows it. - -Not that silk is lacking: on the contrary, it abounds. The caterpillar -lavished it during his time as a spinner and a picker-up of straws. The -whole interior of the case is padded with thick white satin. But how -greatly preferable to this too-compact and luxurious upholstery is the -delightful eiderdown bedding of the new-born youngsters! - -We know the preparations made for the coming family. Now, where are the -eggs? At what spot are they laid? The smallest of my three Psyches, who -is less misshapen than the others and freer in her movements, leaves -her case altogether. She possesses a long ovipositor and inserts it, -through the exit-hole, right into the chrysalid slough, which is left -where it was in the form of a bag. This slough receives the laying. -When the operation is finished and the bag of eggs is full, the mother -dies outside, hanging on to the case. - -The two other Psyches, who do not carry telescopic ovipositors and -whose only method of changing their position is a dubious sort of -crawling, have more singular customs to show us. One might quote with -regard to them what used to be said of the Roman matrons, those model -mothers: - -“Domi mansit, lanam fecit.” - -Yes, lanam fecit. The Psyche does not really work the wool on the -distaff; but at least she bequeathes to her sons her own fleece -converted into a heap of wadding. Yes, domi mansit. She never leaves -her house, not even for her wedding, not even for the purpose of laying -her eggs. - -We have seen how, after receiving the visit of the male, the shapeless -Moth, that uncouth sausage, retreats to the back of her case and -withdraws into her chrysalid slough, which she fills exactly, just as -though she had never left it. The eggs are in their place then and -there; they occupy the regulation sack favoured by the various Psyches. -Of what use would a laying be now? Strictly speaking, there is none, in -fact; that is to say, the eggs do not leave the mother’s womb. The -living pouch which has engendered them keeps them within itself. - -Soon this bag loses its moisture by evaporation; it dries up and at the -same time remains sticking to the chrysalid wrapper, that firm support. -Let us open the thing. What does the magnifying-glass show us? A few -trachean threads, lean bundles of muscles, nervous ramifications, in -short, the relics of a form of vitality reduced to its simplest -expression. Taken all around, very nearly nothing. The rest of the -contents is a mass of eggs, an agglomeration of germs numbering close -upon three hundred. In a word, the insect is one enormous ovary, -assisted by just so much as enables it to perform its functions. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER X - -THE PSYCHES: THE CASES - - -The hatching of the eggs takes place in the first fortnight of July. -The little grubs measure about one twenty-fifth of an inch. Their head -and the upper part of the first thoracic segment are a glossy black, -the next two segments brownish and the rest of the body a pale amber. -Sharp, lively little creatures, who run about with short, quick steps, -they swarm all over the spongy, hairy tissue resulting from the -cast-off clothing of the eggs. - -The books tell me that the little Psyches begin by eating up their -mother: a loathsome banquet for which the said books must accept -responsibility. I see nothing of the sort; and I do not even understand -how the idea arose. The mother bequeaths to her sons her case, whose -straws are searched for wadding, the material of the first coat; out of -her chrysalid slough and her skin she makes them a two-fold shelter for -the hatching-time; with her down she prepares a defensive barricade for -them and a place wherein to wait before emerging. Thus all is given, -all spent with a view to the future. Save for some thin, dry strips -which my lens can only with difficulty distinguish, there is nothing -left that could provide a cannibal feast for so numerous a family. - -No, my little Psyches, you do not eat your mother. In vain do I watch -you: never, either to clothe or to feed himself, does any one of you -lay a tooth upon the remains of the deceased. The maternal skin is left -untouched, as are those other insignificant relics, the layer of -muscular tissue and the network of air-ducts. The sack left behind by -the chrysalis also remains intact. - -The time comes to quit the natal wallet. An outlet has been contrived -long beforehand, saving the youngsters from committing any act of -violence against what was once their mother. There is no sacrilegious -cutting to be done with the shears; the door opens of itself. - -When she was a wriggling speck of sausage, the mother’s front segments -were remarkably translucent, forming a contrast with the rest of the -body. This was very probably a sign of a less dense and less tough -texture than elsewhere. The sign is not misleading. The dry gourd to -which the mother is now reduced has for a neck those diaphanous rings, -which, as they withered, became extremely fragile. Does this neck, this -operculum fall of its own accord, or is it pushed off by the pigmies -impatient to get away? I do not know for certain. This, however, I can -say, that blowing on it is enough to make it drop off. - -In anticipation therefore of the emergence, an exceedingly easy and -perhaps even spontaneous method of decapitation is prepared in the -mother’s lifetime. To manufacture a delicate neck for yourself so that -you may be easily beheaded at the proper time and thus leave the way -free to the youngsters is an act of devotion in which the most -unconscious maternal affection stands sublimely revealed. That -miserable maggot, that sausage Moth, scarce able to crawl and yet so -clear-sighted where the future is concerned, staggers the mind of any -one who knows how to think. - -The brood emerge from the natal wallet through the window just opened -by the fall of the head. The chrysalid sack, the second wrapper, -presents no obstacle; it has remained open since the adult Psyche left -it. Next comes the mass of eiderdown, the heap of fluff of which the -mother stripped herself. Here the little caterpillars stop. Much more -spaciously and comfortably lodged than in the bag whence they have -come, some take a rest, others bustle about, exercise themselves in -walking. All pick up strength in preparation for their exodus into the -daylight. - -They do not stay long amid this luxury. Gradually, as they gain vigour, -they come out and spread over the surface of the case. Work begins at -once, a very urgent work, that of the wardrobe. The first mouthfuls -will come afterwards, when we are dressed. - -Montaigne, when putting on the cloak which his father had worn before -him, used a touching expression. He said: - -“I dress myself in my father.” - -The young Psyches in the same way dress themselves in their mother: -they cover themselves with the clothes left behind by the deceased, -they scrape from it the wherewithal to make themselves a cotton frock. -The material employed is the pith of the little stalks, especially of -the pieces which, split lengthwise, are more easily stripped of their -contents. The grub first finds a spot to suit it. Having done so, it -gleans, it planes with its mandibles. Thus a superbly white wadding is -extracted from old logs. - -The manner of beginning the garment is worth noting. The tiny creature -employs as judicious a method as any which our own industry could hope -to discover. The wadding is collected in infinitesimal pellets. How are -these little particles to be fixed as and when they are detached by the -shears of the mandibles? The manufacturer needs a support, a base; and -this support cannot be obtained on the caterpillar’s own body, for any -adherence would be seriously embarrassing and would hamper freedom of -movement. The difficulty is overcome very cleverly. Scraps of plush are -gathered and by degrees fastened to one another with threads of silk. -This forms a sort of rectilinear garland in which the particles -collected swing from a common rope. When these preparations are deemed -sufficient, the little creature passes the garland round its waist, at -about the third segment of the thorax, so as to leave its six legs -free; then it ties the two ends with a bit of silk. The result is a -girdle, generally incomplete, but soon completed with other scraps -fastened to the silk ribbon that carries everything. - -This girdle is the base of the work, the support. Henceforth, to -lengthen the piece, to enlarge it into the perfect garment, the grub -has only to fix, always at the fore-edge, with the aid of its -spinnerets, now at the top, now at the bottom or side, the scraps of -pith which the mandibles never cease extracting. Nothing could be -better thought out than this initial garland laid out flat and then -buckled like a belt around the loins. - -Once this base is laid, the weaving-loom is in full swing. The piece -woven is first a tiny string around the waist; next, by the addition of -fresh pellets, always at the fore-edge, it grows into a scarf, a -waistcoat, a short jacket and lastly a sack, which gradually makes its -way backwards, not of itself, but through the action of the weaver, who -slips forward in the part of the case already made. In a few hours, the -garment is completed. It is by that time a conical hood, a cloak of -magnificent whiteness and finish. - -We now know all about it. On leaving the maternal hut, without -searching, without distant expeditions which would be so dangerous at -that age, the little Psyche finds in the tender beams of the roof the -wherewithal to clothe himself. He is spared the perils of roaming in a -state of nudity. When he leaves the house, he will be quite warm, -thanks to the mother, who takes care to instal her family in the old -case and gives it choice materials to work with. - -If the grub-worm were to drop out of the hovel, if some gust of wind -swept him to a distance, most often the poor mite would be lost. -Ligneous straws, rich in pith, dry and retted to a turn, are not to be -found everywhere. It would mean the impossibility of any clothing and, -in that dire poverty, an early death. But, if suitable materials are -encountered, equal in quality to those bequeathed by the mother, how is -it that the exile is unable to make use of them? Let us look into this. - -I segregate a few new-born grubs in a glass tube and give them for -their materials some split pieces of straw, picked from among the old -stalks of a sort of dandelion, Pterotheca nemausensis. Though robbed of -the inheritance of the maternal manor, the grubs seem very well -satisfied with my bits. Without the least hesitation, they scrape out -of them a superb white pith and make it into a delicious cloak, much -handsomer than that which they would have obtained with the ruins of -the native house, this latter cloak being always more or less flawed -with darker materials, whose colour has been impaired by long exposure -to the air. On the other hand, the Nîmes dandelion, a relic of last -spring, has its central part, which I myself lay bare, a spotless -white; and the cotton nightcap achieves the very perfection of -whiteness. - -I obtain an even better result with rounds of sorghum-pith taken from -the kitchen-broom. This time, the work has glittering crystalline -points and looks like a thing built of grains of sugar. It is my -manufacturers’ masterpiece. - -These two successes authorize me to vary the raw material still -further. In the absence of new-born caterpillars, who are not always at -my disposal, I employ grubs which I have undressed, that is to say, -which I have taken out of their caps. To these divested ones I give, as -the only thing to work upon, a strip of paper free from paste and easy -to pick to pieces, in short, a piece of blotting-paper. - -Here again there is no hesitation. The grubs lustily scrape this -surface, new to them though it be, and make themselves a paper coat of -it. Cadet Roussel, [28] of famous memory, had a coat of similar stuff, -but much less fine and silky. My paper-clad charges are so well-pleased -with their materials that they scorn their native case, when it is -afterwards placed at their disposal, and continue to scrape lint from -the industrial product. - -Others are given nothing in their tube, but are able to get at the cork -that closes the glass dwelling-house. This is enough. The undraped ones -hasten to scrape the cork, to break it into atoms and out of these to -make themselves a granulated frock, as faultlessly elegant as though -their race had always made use of this material. The novelty of the -stuff, employed perhaps for the first time, has made no change in the -cut of the coat. - -To sum up, they accept any vegetable matter that is dry, light and not -too resistant. Would they behave likewise towards animal materials and -especially mineral materials, on condition that these are of a suitable -thinness? I take a Great Peacock’s wing, left over from my experiments -in the nuptial telegraphy of this Moth, [29] and cut from it a strip on -which I place, at the bottom of a tube, two little caterpillars -stripped of their clothing. The two prisoners have nothing else at -their disposal. Any drapery that they want must be got out of this -scaly expanse. - -They hesitate for a long time in the presence of that strange carpet. -In twenty-four hours’ time, one of the caterpillars has started no work -and seems resolved to let himself die, naked as he is. The other, -stouter-hearted, or perhaps less injured by the brutal -stripping-process, explores the slip for a little while and at last -resolves to make use of it. Before the day is over, he has clothed -himself in grey velvet out of the Great Peacock’s scales. Considering -the delicacy of the materials, the work is exquisitely correct. - -Let us go a step farther in our explorations. For the soft, yielding -wadding collected from a plant, or the down gleaned from the wing of a -Moth, we will substitute rough stone. In their final state, I know, the -Psyches’ cases are often laden with grains of sand and earthy -particles; but these are accidental bricks, which have been -inadvertently touched by the spinneret and incorporated unintentionally -in the thatch. The delicate creatures know too well the drawbacks of a -pebbly pillow to seek the support of stone. Mineral matter is -distasteful to them; and it is mineral matter that now has to be worked -like wool. - -True, I select such stones in my collection as are least out of keeping -with the feeble powers of my grubs. I possess a specimen of flaky -hematite. At the merest touch of a hair-pencil it breaks into atoms -almost as minute as the dust which a Butterfly’s wing leaves on our -fingers. On a bed of this material, which glitters like a steel filing, -I establish four young caterpillars extracted from their clothing. I -foresee a check in this experiment and consequently increase the number -of my subjects. - -It is as I thought. The day passes and the four caterpillars remain -bare. Next day, however, one, one alone, decides to clothe himself. His -work is a tiara with metallic facets, in which the light plays with -flashes of every colour of the rainbow. It is very rich, very -sumptuous, but mightily heavy and cumbrous. Walking becomes laborious -under that load of metal. Even so must a Byzantine emperor have -progressed at ceremonies of state, after donning his gold-worked -dalmatic. - -Poor little creature! More sensible than man, you did not select that -ridiculous magnificence of your own free will; it was I who forced it -on you. Here, to make amends, is a disk of sorghum-pith. Fling off your -proud tiara, thrust it from you quickly and place in its stead a cotton -night-cap, which is much healthier. This is done on the second day. - -The Psyche has his favourite materials when starting as a manufacturer: -a vegetable lint collected from any ligneous scrap well softened by the -air, a lint usually supplied by the old roof of the maternal hut. In -the absence of the regulation fabric, he is able to make use of animal -velvet, in particular of the scaly fluff of a Moth. In case of -necessity, he does not shrink from acts of sheer madness: he weaves -mineral matter, so urgent is his need to clothe himself. - -This need outweighs that of nourishment. I take a young caterpillar -from his grazing-ground, a leaf of very hairy hawkweed which, after -many attempts, I have found to suit him as food because of its green -blade and as wool because of its white fleece. I take him, I say, from -his refectory and leave him to fast for a couple of days. Then I strip -him and put him back on his leaf. And I see him, unmindful of eating, -in spite of his long fast, first labouring to make himself a new coat -by collecting the hairs of the hawkweed. His appetite will be satisfied -afterwards. - -Is he then so susceptible to cold? We are in the midst of the dog-days. -The sun shoots down a fiery torrent that brings the wild concert of the -Cicadæ up to fever-pitch. In the baking heat of the study where I am -questioning my animals, I have flung off hat and necktie and am working -in my shirt-sleeves; and, in this oven, what the Psyche clamours for -is, above all things, a warm covering. Well, little shiverer, I will -satisfy you! - -I expose him to the direct rays of the sun, on the window-ledge. This -time, it is too much of a good thing; I have gone beyond all bounds. -The sun-scorched one wriggles about, flourishes his abdomen, always a -sign of discomfort. But the making of the hawkweed cassock is not -suspended on this account; on the contrary, it is pursued more -hurriedly than ever. Could this be because of the excessive light? Is -not the cotton-wool bag a retreat wherein the caterpillar isolates -himself, sheltering from the importunities of broad daylight, and -gently digests and sleeps? Let us get rid of the light, while retaining -a warm temperature. - -After a preliminary stripping, the little caterpillars are now lodged -in a cardboard box, which I place in the sunniest corner of my window. -The temperature here is well over 100° F. No matter: the swan’s-down -sack is remade at a sitting of a few hours. Tropical heat and the quiet -that goes with darkness have made no difference in the insect’s habits. - -Neither the degree of heat nor the degree of light explains the -pressing need of raiment. Where are we to seek the reason for that -hurry to get clad? I can see none save a presentiment of the future. -The Psyche caterpillar has the winter before him. He knows nothing of a -common shelter in a silken purse, of cabins among close-touching -leaves, of underground cells, of retreats under old cracked bark, of -hairy roofs, of cocoons, in short of the different methods employed by -other caterpillars to protect themselves against the severity of the -weather. He has to spend the winter exposed to the inclemencies of the -air. This peril causes his particular talent. - -He builds himself a roof whose imbricated and diverging stalks will -allow cold dews and drops of melted snow to trickle away at a distance, -when the case is fixed and hanging vertically. Under this covering, he -weaves a thick silk lining, which will make a soft mattress and a -rampart against the effects of the cold. Once these precautions are -taken, the winter may come and the north wind rage: the Psyche is -sleeping peacefully in his hut. - -But all this is not improvised as the stormy season approaches. It is a -delicate work which takes time to carry out. All his life-long the -caterpillar labours at it, improving it, adding to it, strengthening it -incessantly. And, in order to acquire greater skill, he begins his -apprenticeship at the moment when he leaves the egg. As preliminary -practice for the thick overcoat of full-grown age, he tries his hand on -cotton capes. Even so does the Pine Processionary, as soon as hatched, -weave first delicate tents, then gauzy cupolas, as harbingers of the -mighty wallet in which the community will make its home. Both alike are -harassed from the day of their birth by the presentiment of the future; -they start life by binding themselves apprentices to the trade that is -to safeguard them one day. - -No, the Psyche is not more sensitive to cold than any other -smooth-skinned caterpillar; he is a creature of foresight. Deprived in -winter of the shelters granted to the others, he prepares himself, from -his birth, for the building of a home that will be his salvation and -practises for it by making fripperies of wadding suited to his -strength. He foresees the rigours of winter during the blazing -dog-days. - -They are now all clad, my young caterpillars, numbering nearly a -thousand. They wander restlessly in large glass receptacles, closed -with a sheet of glass. What do you seek, little ones, swinging your -pretty, snow-white cloaks as you go? Food, of course. After all that -fatigue, you need refreshment. Despite your numbers, you will not be -too heavy a burden on my resources: you can manage with so little! But -what do you ask for? You certainly do not count on me for your -supplies. In the open fields you would have found victuals to your -liking much more easily than I can hope to find them for you. Since my -wish to know all about you places you in my charge, I have a duty which -I must observe: that of feeding you. What do you want? - -The part of Providence is a very difficult one to play. The purveyor of -foodstuffs, thinking of the morrow, taking his precautions so that the -home may be always more or less supplied, performs the most deserving -but also the most laborious of functions. The little ones wait -trustingly, persuaded that things happen of themselves, while he -anxiously resorts to every kind of ingenuity and trouble, wondering -whether the right thing will come. Ah, how well long practice has -taught me to know the trade, with all its worries and all its joys! - -Behold me to-day the Providence of a thousand nurselings thrust upon me -by my studies. I try a little of everything. The tender leaves of the -elm appear to suit. If I serve them up one day, I find them next -morning nibbled on the surface, in small patches. Tiny grains of -impalpable black dust, scattered here and there, tell me that the -intestines have been at work. This gives me a moment of satisfaction -which will be readily understood by any breeder of a herd whose diet is -unknown. The hope of success gains strength: I know how to feed my -vermin. Have I discovered the best method at the first attempt? I dare -not think so. - -I continue therefore to vary the fare, but the results hardly come up -to my wishes. The flock refuses my assorted green stuff and even ends -by taking a dislike to the elm-leaves. I am beginning to believe that I -have failed utterly, when a happy inspiration occurs to me. I have -recognized among the bits that go to form the case a few fragments of -the mouse-ear hawkweed (Hieracium pilosella). So the Psyche frequents -that plant. Why should he not browse it? Let us try. - -The mouse-ear displays its little round flowers in profusion in a stony -field just beside my house, at the foot of the wall where I have so -often found Psyche-cases hanging. I gather a handful and distribute it -among my different folds. This time the food-problem is solved. The -Psyches forthwith settle in solid masses on the hairy leaves and nibble -at them greedily in small patches, in which the epidermis of the other -surface remains untouched. - -We will leave them to their grazing, with which they seem quite -satisfied, and ask ourselves a certain question relating to -cleanliness. How does the little Psyche get rid of his digestive -refuse? Remember that he is enclosed in a sack. One dare not entertain -the thought of ordure ejected and accumulating at the far end of the -dazzling white plush cap. Filth cannot dwell under so elegant a -covering. How is the sordid evacuation managed? - -Despite the fact that it ends in a conical point, in which the lens -reveals no break of continuity, the sack is not closed at the hinder -end. Its method of manufacture, by means of a waistband whose fore-edge -increases in dimensions in proportion as the rear-edge is pushed -farther back, proves this sufficiently. The hinder end becomes pointed -simply owing to the shrinking of the material, which contracts of -itself at the part where the caterpillar’s decreasing diameter no -longer distends it. There is thus at the point a permanent hole whose -lips remain closed. The caterpillar has only to go a little way back -and the stuff expands, the hole widens, the road is open and the -excretions fall to the ground. On the other hand, so soon as the -caterpillar takes a step forward into his case, the rubbish-shoot -closes of itself. It is a very simple and very ingenious mechanism, as -good as anything contrived by our seamstresses to cope with the -shortcomings of a boy’s first pair of breeches. - -Meanwhile the grub grows and its tunic continues to fit it, is neither -too large nor too small, but just the right size. How is this done? If -the text-books were to be credited, I might expect to see the -caterpillar split his sheath lengthwise when it became too tight and -afterwards enlarge it by means of a piece woven between the edges of -the rent. That is what our tailors do; but it is not the Psyches’ -method at all. They know something much better. They keep on working at -their coat, which is old at the back, new in front and always a perfect -fit for the growing body. - -Nothing is easier than to watch the daily progress in size. A few -caterpillars have just made themselves a hood of sorghum-pith. The work -is perfectly beautiful; it might have been woven out of snow-flakes. I -isolate these smartly-dressed ones and give them as weaving-materials -some brown scales chosen from the softest parts that I can find in old -bark. Between morning and evening, the hood assumes a new appearance: -the tip of the cone is still a spotless white, but all the front part -is coarse drapery, very different in colouring from the original plush. -Next day, the sorghum felt has wholly disappeared and is replaced, from -one end of the cone to the other, by a frieze of bark. - -I then take away the brown materials and put sorghum-pith in their -stead. This time the coarse, dark stuff retreats gradually towards the -top of the hood, while the soft, white stuff gains in width, starting -from the mouth. Before the day is over, the original elegant mitre will -be reconstructed entirely. - -This alternation can be repeated as often as we please. Indeed, by -shortening each period of work, we can easily obtain, with the two -sorts of material, composite products, showing alternate light and dark -belts. - -The Psyche, as you see, in no way follows the methods of our tailors, -with their piece taken out and another piece let in. In order to have a -coat always to his size, he never ceases working at it. The particles -collected are constantly being fixed just at the edge of the sack, so -that the new drapery increases progressively in dimensions, keeping -pace with the caterpillar’s growth. At the same time the old stuff -recedes, is driven back towards the tip of the cone. Here, through its -own springiness, it contracts and closes the muff. Any surplus matter -disintegrates, falls into shreds and gradually disappears as the insect -roams about and knocks against the things which it meets. The case, new -at the front and old at the back, is never too tight because it is -always being renewed. - -After the very hot period of the year, there comes a moment when light -wraps are no longer seasonable. Autumnal rains threaten, followed by -winter frosts. It is time to make ourselves a thick great-coat with a -cape of thatch arranged in a series of waterproof tippets. It begins -with a great lack of accuracy. Straws of uneven length and bits of dry -leaves are fastened, with no attempt at order, behind the neck of the -sack, which must still retain its flexibility so as to allow the -caterpillar to bend freely in every direction. - -Few as yet, rather short and placed anyhow, sometimes lengthways and -sometimes across, these untidy first logs of the roof will not -interfere with the final regularity of the building: they are destined -to disappear and will be pushed back and be driven out at last as the -sack grows in front. - -Later on, when the pieces are longer and better-chosen, they are all -carefully laid longitudinally. The placing of a straw is done with -surprising quickness and dexterity. If the log which he has found suits -him, the caterpillar takes it between his legs and turns it round and -round. Gripping it with his mandibles by one end, as a rule he removes -a few morsels from this part and immediately fixes them to the neck of -the sack. His object in laying bare the raw and rough surfaces, to -which the silk will stick better, may be to obtain a firmer hold. Even -so the plumber gives a touch of the file at the point that is to be -soldered. - -Then, by sheer strength of jaw, the caterpillar lifts his beam, -brandishes it in the air and, with a quick movement of his rump, lays -it on his back. The spinneret at once sets to work on the end caught. -And the thing is done: without any groping about or correcting, the log -is added to the others, in the direction required. - -The fine days of autumn are spent in toil of this kind, performed -leisurely and intermittently, when the stomach is full. By the time -that the cold weather arrives, the house is ready. When the air is once -more warm, the Psyche resumes his walks abroad: he roams along the -paths, strolls over the friendly greensward, takes a few mouthfuls and -then, when the hour has come, prepares for his transformation by -hanging from the wall. - -These springtime wanderings, long after the case is completely -finished, made me want to know if the caterpillar would be capable of -repeating his sack-weaving and roof-building operations. I take him out -of his case and place him, stark naked, on a bed of fine, dry sand. I -give him as materials to work with some old stalks of Nîmes dandelion, -cut up into sticks of the same length as the pieces that make the case. - -The evicted insect disappears under the heap of ligneous straws and -hurriedly starts spinning, taking as pegs for its cords anything that -its lips encounter: the bed of sand underfoot, the canopy of twigs -overhead. So doing, it binds together, in extricable confusion, all the -pieces touched by the spinneret, long and short, light and heavy, at -random. In the centre of this tangled scaffolding, a work is pursued of -a quite different nature from that of hut-building. The caterpillar -weaves and does nothing else, not even attempting to assemble into a -proper roofing the materials of which he is able to dispose. - -The Psyche owning a perfect case, when he resumes his activity with the -fine weather, scorns his old trade as an assembler of logs, a trade -practised so zealously during the previous summer. Now that his stomach -is satisfied and his silk-glands distended, he devotes his spare time -solely to improving the quilting of his case. The silky felt of the -interior is never thick or soft enough to please him. The thicker and -softer it is, the better for his own comfort during the process of -transformation and for the safety of his family afterwards. - -Well, my knavish tricks have now robbed him of everything. Does he -perceive the disaster? Though the silk and timber at his disposal -permit, does he dream of rebuilding the shelter, so essential first to -his chilly back and secondly to his family, who will cut it up to make -their first home? Not a bit of it. He slips under the mass of twigs -where I let it fall and there begins to work exactly as he would have -done under normal conditions. - -This shapeless roof and this sand on which the jumble of rafters are -lying now represent to the Psyche the walls of the regulation home; -and, without in any way modifying his labours to meet the exigencies of -the moment, the caterpillar upholsters the surfaces within his reach -with the same zest that he would have displayed in adding new layers to -the quilted lining which has disappeared. Instead of being pasted on -the proper wall, the present hangings come in contact with the rough -surface of the sand and the hopeless tangle of the straws; and the -spinner takes no notice. - -The house is worse than ruined: it no longer exists. No matter: the -caterpillar continues his actual work; he loses sight of the real and -upholsters the imaginary. [30] And yet everything ought to apprise him -of the absence of any roofing. The sack with which he has managed to -cover himself, very skilfully for that matter, is lamentably flabby. It -sags and rumples at every movement of the insect’s body. Moreover, it -is made heavy with sand and bristles with spikes in every direction, -which catch in the dust of the road and make all progress impossible. -Thus anchored to the ground, the caterpillar wastes his strength in -efforts to shift his position. It takes him hours to make a start and -to move his cumbrous dwelling a fraction of an inch. - -With his normal case, in which all the beams are imbricated from front -to back with scientific precision, he gets along very nimbly. His -collection of logs, all fixed in front and all free at the back, forms -a boat-shaped sledge which slips and glides through obstacles without -difficulty. But, though progress be easy, retreat is impracticable, for -each piece of the framework causes the thing to stop, owing to its free -end. - -Well, the sack of my victim is covered with laths pointing this way and -that, just in the position in which they happened to be caught by the -spinneret, as it fastened its threads here and there, indiscriminately. -The bits in front are so many spurs which dig into the sand and -neutralize all efforts to advance; the bits at the side are rakes whose -resistance cannot be overcome. In such conditions, the insect is bound -to be stranded and to perish on the spot. - -If I were advising the caterpillar, I should say: - -“Go back to the art in which you excel; arrange your bundle neatly; -point the cumbrous pieces lengthwise, in an orderly fashion; do -something to your sack, which hangs too loosely; give it the necessary -stiffness with a few props to act as a busk; do now, in your distress, -what you knew so well how to do before; summon up your old -carpentering-talents and you will be saved.” - -Useless advice! The time for carpentry is over. The hour has come for -upholstering; and he upholsters obstinately, padding a house which no -longer exists. He will perish miserably, cut up by the Ants, as the -result of his too-rigid instinct. - -Many other instances have already told us as much. Like running water -which does not climb slopes and which does not flow back to its source, -the insect never retraces its actions. What is done is done and cannot -be recommenced. The Psyche, but now a clever carpenter, will die for -want of knowing how to fix a beam. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -THE GREAT PEACOCK - - -It was a memorable evening. I shall call it the Great Peacock evening. -Who does not know the magnificent Moth, the largest in Europe, clad in -maroon velvet with a necktie of white fur? The wings, with their -sprinkling of grey and brown, crossed by a faint zig-zag and edged with -smoky white, have in the centre a round patch, a great eye with a black -pupil and a variegated iris containing successive black, white, -chestnut and purple arcs. - -No less remarkable is the caterpillar, in colour an undecided yellow. -On the top of thinly-scattered tubercles, crowned with a palisade of -black hairs, are set beads of turquoise blue. His stout brown cocoon, -so curious with its exit-shaft shaped like an eel-trap, is usually -fastened to the bark at the base of old almond-trees. The caterpillar -feeds on the leaves of the same tree. - -Well, on the morning of the 6th of May, a female emerges from her -cocoon in my presence, on the table of my insect-laboratory. I -forthwith cloister her, still damp with the humours of the hatching, -under a wire-gauze bell-jar. For the rest, I cherish no particular -plans. I incarcerate her from mere habit, the habit of the observer -always on the look-out for what may happen. - -It was a lucky thought. At nine o’clock in the evening, just as the -household is going to bed, there is a great stir in the room next to -mine. Little Paul, half-undressed, is rushing about, jumping and -stamping, knocking the chairs over like a mad thing. I hear him call -me: - -“Come quick!” he screams. “Come and see these Moths, big as birds! The -room is full of them!” - -I hurry in. There is enough to justify the child’s enthusiastic and -hyperbolical exclamations, an invasion as yet unprecedented in our -house, a raid of giant Moths. Four are already caught and lodged in a -bird-cage. Others, more numerous, are fluttering on the ceiling. - -At this sight, the prisoner of the morning is recalled to my mind. - -“Put on your things, laddie,” I say to my son. “Leave your cage and -come with me. We shall see something interesting.” - -We run downstairs to go to my study, which occupies the right wing of -the house. In the kitchen I find the servant, who is also bewildered by -what is happening and stands flicking her apron at great Moths whom she -took at first for Bats. - -The Great Peacock, it would seem, has taken possession of pretty well -every part of the house. What will it be around my prisoner, the cause -of this incursion? Luckily, one of the two windows of the study had -been left open. The approach is not blocked. - -We enter the room, candle in hand. What we see is unforgetable. With a -soft flick-flack the great Moths fly around the bell-jar, alight, set -off again, come back, fly up to the ceiling and down. They rush at the -candle, putting it out with a stroke of their wings; they descend on -our shoulders, clinging to our clothes, grazing our faces. The scene -suggests a wizard’s cave, with its whirl of Bats. Little Paul holds my -hand tighter than usual, to keep up his courage. - -How many of them are there? About a score. Add to these the number that -have strayed into the kitchen, the nursery and the other rooms of the -house; and the total of those who have arrived from the outside cannot -fall far short of forty. As I said, it was a memorable evening, this -Great Peacock evening. Coming from every direction and apprised I know -not how, here are forty lovers eager to pay their respects to the -marriageable bride born that morning amid the mysteries of my study. - -For the moment let us disturb the swarm of wooers no further. The flame -of the candle is a danger to the visitors, who fling themselves into it -madly and singe their wings. We will resume the observation tomorrow -with an experimental interrogatory thought out beforehand. - -But first let us clear the ground and speak of what happens every night -during the week that my observation lasts. Each time it is pitch dark, -between eight and ten o’clock, when the Moths arrive one by one. It is -stormy weather, the sky is very much overcast and the darkness is so -profound that even in the open air, in the garden, far from the shadow -of the trees, it is hardly possible to see one’s hand before one’s -face. - -In addition to this darkness there is the difficulty of access. The -house is hidden by tall plane-trees; it is approached by a walk thickly -bordered with lilac- and rose-trees, forming a sort of outer vestibule; -it is protected against the mistral by clumps of pines and screens of -cypresses. Clusters of bushy shrubs make a rampart a few steps away -from the door. It is through this tangle of branches, in complete -darkness, that the Great Peacock has to tack about to reach the object -of his pilgrimage. - -Under such conditions, the Brown Owl would not dare leave the hole in -his olive-tree. The Moth, better-endowed with his faceted optical -organs than the night-bird with its great eyes, goes forward without -hesitating and passes through without knocking against things. He -directs his tortuous flight so skilfully that, despite the obstacles -overcome, he arrives in a state of perfect freshness, with his big -wings intact, with not a scratch upon him. The darkness is light enough -for him. - -Even if we grant that it perceives certain rays unknown to common -retinæ, this extraordinary power of sight cannot be what warns the Moth -from afar and brings him hurrying to the spot. The distance and the -screens interposed make this quite impossible. - -Besides, apart from deceptive refractions, of which there is no -question in this case, the indications provided by light are so precise -that we go straight to the thing seen. Now the Moth sometimes blunders, -not as to the general direction which he is to take, but as to the -exact spot where the interesting events are happening. I have said that -the children’s nursery, which is at the side of the house opposite my -study, the real goal of my visitors at the present moment, was occupied -by the Moths before I went there with a light in my hand. These -certainly were ill-informed. There was the same throng of hesitating -visitors in the kitchen; but here the light of a lamp, that -irresistible lure to nocturnal insects, may have beguiled the eager -ones. - -Let us consider only the places that were in the dark. In these there -are several stray Moths. I find them more or less everywhere around the -actual spot aimed at. For instance, when the captive is in my study, -the visitors do not all enter by the open window, the safe and direct -road, only two or three yards away from the caged prisoner. Several of -them come in downstairs, wander about the hall and at most reach the -staircase, a blind alley barred at the top by a closed door. - -These data tell us that the guests at this nuptial feast do not make -straight for their object, as they would if they derived their -information from some kind of luminous radiation, whether known or -unknown to our physical science. It is something else that apprises -them from afar, leads them to the proximity of the exact spot and then -leaves the final discovery to the airy uncertainty of random searching. -It is very much like the way in which we ourselves are informed by -hearing and smell, guides which are far from accurate when we want to -decide the precise point of origin of the sound or the smell. - -What are the organs of information that direct the rutting Moth on his -nightly pilgrimage? One suspects the antennæ, which, in the males, do -in fact seem to be questioning space with their spreading tufts of -feathers. Are those glorious plumes mere ornaments, or do they at the -same time play a part in the perception of the effluvia that guide the -enamoured swain? A conclusive experiment seems to present no -difficulty. Let us try it. - -On the day after the invasion, I find in the study eight of my visitors -of the day before. They are perched motionless on the transoms of the -second window, which is kept closed. The others, when their dance was -over, about ten o’clock in the evening, went out as they came in, that -is to say, through the first window, which is left open day and night. -Those eight persevering ones are just what I want for my schemes. - -With a sharp pair of scissors, without otherwise touching the Moths, I -cut off their antennæ, near the base. The patients take hardly any -notice of the operation. Not one moves; there is scarcely a flutter of -the wings. These are excellent conditions: the wound does not seem at -all serious. Undistraught by pain, the Moths bereft of their horns will -adapt themselves all the better to my plans. The rest of the day is -spent in placid immobility on the cross-bars of the window. - -There are still a few arrangements to be made. It is important in -particular to shift the scene of operations and not to leave the female -before the eyes of the maimed ones at the moment when they resume their -nocturnal flight, else the merit of their quest would disappear. I -therefore move the bell-jar with its captives and place it under a -porch at the other end of the house, some fifty yards from my study. - -When night comes, I go to make a last inspection of my eight victims. -Six have flown out through the open window; two remain behind, but -these have dropped to the floor and no longer have the strength to turn -over if I lay them on their backs. They are exhausted, dying. Pray do -not blame my surgical work. This quick decreptitude occurs invariably, -even without the intervention of my scissors. - -Six, in better condition, have gone off. Will they return to the bait -that attracted them yesterday? Though deprived of their antennæ, will -they be able to find the cage, now put in another place, at a -considerable distance from its original position? - -The cage is standing in the dark, almost in the open air. From time to -time, I go out with a lantern and a Butterfly-net. Each visitor is -captured, examined, catalogued and forthwith let loose in an adjoining -room, of which I close the door. This gradual elimination will enable -me to tell the exact number, with no risk of counting the same Moth -more than once. Moreover, the temporary gaol, which is spacious and -bare, will in no way endanger the prisoners, who will find a quiet -retreat there and plenty of room. I shall take similar precautions -during my subsequent investigations. - -At half past ten no more arrive. The sitting is over. In all, -twenty-five males have been caught, of whom only one was without -antennæ. Therefore, of the six on whom I operated yesterday and who -were hale enough to leave my study and go back to the fields, one alone -has returned to the bell-jar. It is a poor result, on which I dare not -rely when it comes to asserting or denying that the antennæ play a -guiding part. We must begin all over again, on a larger scale. - -Next morning I pay a visit to the prisoners of the day before. What I -see is not encouraging. Many are spread out on the floor, almost -lifeless. Several of them give hardly a sign of life when I take them -in my fingers. What can I hope from these cripples? Still, let us try. -Perhaps they will recover their vigour when the time comes to dance the -lovers’ round. - -The twenty-four new ones undergo amputation of the antennæ. The old, -hornless one is left out of count, as dying or close to it. Lastly, the -prison-door is left open for the remainder of the day. He who will may -leave the room, he who can shall join in the evening festival. In order -to put such as go out to the test of searching for the bride, the cage, -which they would be sure to notice on the threshold, is once more -removed. I shift it to a room in the opposite wing, on the -ground-floor. The access to this room is of course left free. - -Of the twenty-four deprived of their antennæ, only sixteen go outside. -Eight remain, powerless to move. They will soon die where they are. Out -of the sixteen who have left, how many are there that return to the -cage in the evening? Not one! I sit up to capture just seven, all -newcomers, all sporting feathers. This result would seem to show that -the amputation of the antennæ is a rather serious matter. Let us not -draw conclusions yet: a doubt remains and an important one. - -“A nice state I’m in!” said Mouflard, the Bull-pup, when his pitiless -breeder had docked his ears. “How dare I show my face before the other -Dogs?” - -Can it be that my Moths entertain Master Mouflard’s apprehensions? Once -deprived of their fine plumes, dare they no longer appear amidst their -rivals and a-wooing go? Is it bashfulness on their part or lack of -guidance? Or might it not rather be exhaustion after a wait that -exceeds the duration of an ephemeral flame? Experiment shall tell us. - -On the fourth evening, I take fourteen Moths, all new ones, and -imprison them, as they arrive, in a room where I intend them to pass -the night. Next morning, taking advantage of their daytime immobility, -I remove a little of the fur from the centre of their corselet. The -silky fleece comes off so easily that this slight tonsure does not -inconvenience the insects at all; it deprives them of no organ which -may be necessary to them later, when the time comes to find the cage. -It means nothing to the shorn ones; to me it means the unmistakable -sign that the callers have repeated their visit. - -This time there are no weaklings incapable of flight. At night, the -fourteen shaven Moths escape into the open. Of course the place of the -cage is once more changed. In two hours, I capture twenty Moths, -including two tonsured ones, no more. Of those who lost their antennæ -two days ago, not one puts in an appearance. Their nuptial time is over -for good and all. - -Only two return out of the fourteen marked with a bald patch. Why do -the twelve others hang back, although supplied with what we have -assumed to be their guides, their antennary plumes? Why again that -formidable list of defaulters, which we find nearly always after a -night of sequestration? I perceive but one reply: the Great Peacock is -quickly worn out by the ardours of pairing-time. - -With a view to his wedding, the one and only object of his life, the -Moth is gifted with a wonderful prerogative. He is able to discover the -object of his desire in spite of distance, obstacles and darkness. For -two or three evenings, he is allowed a few hours wherein to indulge his -search and his amorous exploits. If he cannot avail himself of them, -all is over: the most exact of compasses fails, the brightest of lamps -expires. What is the use of living after that? Stoically we withdraw -into a corner and sleep our last sleep, which is the end of our -illusions and of our woes alike. - -The Great Peacock becomes a Moth only in order to perpetuate his -species. He knows nothing of eating. While so many others, jolly -companions one and all, flit from flower to flower, unrolling the -spiral of their proboscis and dipping it into the honeyed cups, he, the -incomparable faster, wholly freed from the bondage of the belly, has no -thought of refreshment. His mouth-parts are mere rudiments, vain -simulacra, not real organs capable of performing their functions. Not a -sup enters his stomach: a glorious privilege, save that it involves a -brief existence. The lamp needs its drop of oil, if it is not to be -extinguished. The Great Peacock renounces that drop, but at the same -time he renounces long life. Two or three evenings, just time enough to -allow the couple to meet, and that is all: the big Moth has lived. - -Then what is the meaning of the staying away of those who have lost -their antennæ? Does it show that the absence of these organs has made -them incapable of finding the wire bell in which the prisoner awaits -them? Not at all. Like the shorn ones, whose operation has left them -uninjured, they prove only that their time is up. Whether maimed or -intact, they are unfit for duty because of their age; and their -non-return is valueless as evidence. For lack of the time necessary for -experimenting, the part played by the antennæ escapes us. Doubtful it -was and doubtful it remains. - -My caged prisoner lives for eight days. Every evening she draws for my -benefit a swarm of visitors, in varying numbers, now to one part of the -house, now to another, as I please. I catch them, as they come, with -the net and transfer them, the moment they are captured, to a closed -room, in which they spend the night. Next morning, I mark them with a -tonsure on the thorax. - -The aggregate of the visitors during those eight evenings amounts to a -hundred and fifty, an astounding number when I consider how hard I had -to seek during the following two years to collect the materials -necessary for continuing these observations. Though not impossible to -find in my near neighbourhood, the cocoons of the Great Peacock are at -least very rare, for old almond-trees, on which the caterpillars live, -are scarce in these parts. For two winters I visited every one of those -decayed trees at the lower part of the trunk, under the tangle of hard -grasses in which they are clad, and time after time I returned -empty-handed. Therefore my hundred and fifty Moths came from afar, from -very far, within a radius of perhaps a mile and a half or more. How did -they know of what was happening in my study? - -The perceptive faculties can receive information from a distance by -means of three agents: light, sound and smell. Is it permissible to -speak of vision in this instance? I will readily admit that sight -guides the visitors once they have passed through the open window. But -before that, in the mystery out of doors! It would not be enough to -grant them the fabulous eye of the Lynx, which was supposed to see -through walls; we should have to admit a keenness of sight which could -be exercised miles away. It is useless to discuss anything so -outrageous; let us pass on. - -Sound is likewise out of the question. The great fat Moth, capable of -sending a summons to such a distance, is mute even to the most acute -hearing. It is just possible that she possesses delicate vibrations, -passionate quivers, which might perhaps be perceptible with the aid of -an extremely sensitive microphone; but remember that the visitors have -to be informed at considerable distances, thousands of yards away. -Under these conditions, we cannot waste time thinking of acoustics. -That would be to set silence the task of waking the surrounding air. - -There remains the sense of smell. In the domain of our senses, scent, -better than anything else, would more or less explain the onrush of the -Moths, even though they do not find the bait that allures them until -after a certain amount of hesitation. Are there, in point of fact, -effluvia similar to what we call odour, effluvia of extreme subtlety, -absolutely imperceptible to ourselves and yet capable of impressing a -sense of smell better-endowed than ours? There is a very simple -experiment to be made. It is a question of masking those effluvia, of -stifling them under a powerful and persistent odour, which masters the -olfactory sense entirely. The too-strong scent will neutralize the very -faint one. - -I begin by sprinkling naphthaline in the room where the males will be -received this evening. Also, in the bell-jar, beside the female, I lay -a big capsule full of the same stuff. When the visiting-hour comes, I -have only to stand in the doorway of the room to get a distinct smell -of gas-works. My artifice fails. The Moths arrive as usual, they enter -the room, pass through its tarry atmosphere and make for the cage with -as much certainty of direction as though in unscented surroundings. - -My confidence in the olfactory explanation is shaken. Besides, I am now -unable to go on. Worn out by her sterile wait, my prisoner dies on the -ninth day, after laying her unfertilized eggs on the wirework of the -cage. In the absence of a subject of experiment, there is no more to be -done until next year. - -This time I shall take my precautions, I shall lay in a stock so as to -be able to repeat as often as I wish the experiments which I have -already tried and those which I am contemplating. To work, then; and -that without delay. - -In the summer, I proclaim myself a buyer of caterpillars at a sou -apiece. The offer appeals to some urchins in the neighbourhood, my -usual purveyors. On Thursdays, emancipated from the horrors of parsing, -[31] they scour the fields, find the fat caterpillar from time to time -and bring him to me clinging to the end of a stick. They dare not touch -him, poor mites; they are staggered at my audacity when I take him in -my fingers as they might take the familiar Silk-worm. - -Reared on almond-tree branches, my menagerie in a few days supplies me -with magnificent cocoons. In the winter, assiduous searches at the foot -of the fostering tree complete my collection. Friends interested in my -enquiries come to my assistance. In short, by dint of trouble, much -running about, commercial bargains and not a few scratches from -brambles, I am the possessor of an assortment of cocoons, of which -twelve, bulkier and heavier than the others, tell me that they belong -to females. - -A disappointment awaits me, for May arrives, a fickle month which -brings to naught my preparations, the cause of so much anxiety. We have -winter back again. The mistral howls, tears the budding leaves from the -plane-trees and strews the ground with them. It is as cold as in -December. We have to light the fires again at night and resume the -thick clothes which we were beginning to leave off. - -My Moths are sorely tried. They hatch late and are torpid. Around my -wire cages, in which the females wait, one to-day, another to-morrow, -according to the order of their birth, few males or none come from the -outside. And yet there are some close at hand, for the plumed gallants -resulting from my harvest were placed out in the garden as soon as they -were hatched and recognized. Whether near neighbours or strangers from -afar, very few arrive; and these are only half-hearted. They enter for -a moment, then disappear and do not return. The lovers have grown cold. - -It is also possible that the low temperature is unfavourable to the -tell-tale effluvia, which might well be enhanced by the warmth and -decreased by the cold, as happens with scents. My year is lost. Oh, -what laborious work is this experimenting at the mercy of the sudden -changes and deceptions of a short season! - -I begin all over again, for the third time. I rear caterpillars, I -scour the country in search of cocoons. When May returns, I am suitably -provided. The weather is fine and responds to my hopes. I once more see -the incursions which had struck me so powerfully at the beginning, at -the time of the historic invasion which first led to my researches. - -Nightly the visitors turn up, in squads of twelve, twenty or more. The -female, a lusty, big-bellied matron, clings firmly to the trellis-work -of the cage. She makes no movement, gives not so much as a flutter of -the wings, seems indifferent to what is going on. Nor is there any -odour, so far as the most sensitive nostrils in the household can -judge, nor any rustle perceptible to the most delicate hearing among my -family, all of whom are called in to bear evidence. In motionless -contemplation she waits. - -The others, in twos or threes or more, flop down upon the dome of the -cage, run about it briskly in every direction, lash it with the tips of -their wings in continual movement. There are no affrays between rivals. -With not a sign of jealousy in regard to the other suitors, each does -his utmost to enter the enclosure. Tiring of their vain attempts, they -fly away and join the whirling throng of dancers. Some, giving up all -hope, escape through the open window; fresh arrivals take their places; -and, on the top of the cage, until ten o’clock in the evening, attempts -to approach are incessantly renewed, soon to be abandoned and as soon -resumed. - -Every evening the cage is moved to a different place. I put it on the -north side and the south, on the ground-floor and the first floor, in -the right wing and fifty yards away in the left, in the open air or -hidden in a distant room. All these sudden displacements, contrived if -possible to put the seekers off the scent, do not trouble the Moths in -the least. I waste my time and ingenuity in trying to deceive them. - -Recollection of places plays no part here. Yesterday, for instance, the -female was installed in a certain room. The feathered males came -fluttering thither for a couple of hours; several even spent the night -there. Next day, at sunset, when I move the cage, all are out of doors. -Ephemeral though they be, the newest comers are ready to repeat their -nocturnal expeditions a second time and a third. Where will they go -first, these veterans of a day? - -They know all about the meeting-place of yesterday. One is inclined to -think that they will go back to it, guided by memory, and that, finding -nothing left, they will proceed elsewhither to continue their -investigations. But no: contrary to my expectations, they do nothing of -the sort. Not one reappears in the place which was so thickly crowded -last night; not one pays even a short visit. The room is recognized as -deserted, without the preliminary enquiry which recollection would seem -to demand. A more positive guide than memory summons them elsewhere. - -Until now the female has been left exposed, under the meshes of a wire -gauze. The visitors, whose eyes are used to piercing the blackest -gloom, can see her by the vague light of what to us is darkness. What -will happen if I imprison her under an opaque cover? According to its -nature, will not this cover either set free or arrest the tell-tale -effluvia? - -Physical science is to-day preparing to give us wireless telegraphy, by -means of the Hertzian waves. Can the Great Peacock have anticipated our -efforts in this direction? In order to set the surrounding air in -motion and to inform pretenders miles away, can the newly-hatched bride -have at her disposal electric or magnetic waves, which one sort of -screen would arrest and another let through? In a word, does she, in -her own manner, employ a kind of wireless telegraphy? I see nothing -impossible in this: insects are accustomed to invent things quite as -wonderful. - -I therefore lodge the female in boxes of various characters. Some are -made of tin, some of cardboard, some of wood. All are hermetically -closed, are even sealed with stout putty. I also use a glass bell-jar -standing on the insulating support of a pane of glass. - -Well, under these conditions of strict closing, never a male arrives, -not one, however favourable the mildness and quiet of the evening. No -matter its nature, whether of metal or glass, of wood or cardboard, the -closed receptacle forms an insuperable obstacle to the effluvia that -betray the captive’s whereabouts. - -A layer of cotton two fingers thick gives the same result. I place the -female in a large jar, tying a sheet of wadding over the mouth by way -of a lid. This is enough to keep the neighbourhood in ignorance of the -secrets of my laboratory. No male puts in an appearance. - -On the other hand, make use of ill-closed, cracked boxes, or even hide -them in a drawer, in a cupboard; and, notwithstanding this added -mystery, the Moths will arrive in numbers as great as when they come -thronging to the trellised cage standing in full view on a table. I -have retained a vivid recollection of an evening when the recluse was -waiting in a hat-box at the bottom of a closed wall-cupboard. The Moths -arrived, went to the door, struck it with their wings, knocked at it to -express their wish to enter. Passing wayfarers, coming no one knows -whence across the fields, they well knew what was inside there, behind -those boards. - -We must therefore reject the idea of any means of information similar -to that of wireless telegraphy, for the first screen set up, whether a -good conductor or a bad, stops the female’s signals completely. To give -these a free passage and carry them to a distance, one condition is -indispensable: the receptacle in which the female is contained must be -imperfectly closed, so as to establish a communication between the -inner and the outer air. This brings us back to the probability of an -odour, though that was contradicted by my experiment with naphthaline. - -My stock of cocoons is exhausted and the problem is still obscure. -Shall I try again another year, the fourth? I abandon the thought for -the fallowing reasons: Moths that mate at night are difficult to -observe if I want to watch their intimate actions. The gallant -certainly needs no illuminant to attain his ends; but my feeble human -powers of vision cannot dispense with one at night. I must have at -least a candle, which is often extinguished by the whirling swarm. A -lantern saves us from these sudden eclipses; but its dim light, -streaked with broad shadows, does not suit a conscientious observer -like myself, who wants to see and to see clearly. - -Nor is this all. The light of a lamp diverts the Moths from their -object, distracts them from their business and, if persistent, gravely -compromises the success of the evening. The visitors no sooner enter -the room than they make a wild rush for the flame, singe their fluff in -it and thenceforth, frightened by the scorching received, cease to be -trustworthy witnesses. When they are not burnt, when they are kept at a -distance by a glass chimney, they perch as close as they can to the -light and there stay, hypnotized. - -One evening, the female was in the dining-room, on a table facing the -open window. A lighted paraffin-lamp, with a large white-enamel shade, -was hanging from the ceiling. Two of the arrivals alighted on the dome -of the cage and fussed around the prisoner; seven others, after -greeting her as they passed, made for the lamp, circled about it a -little and then, fascinated by the radiant glory of the opal cone, -perched on it, motionless, under the shade. Already the children’s -hands were raised to seize them. - -“Don’t,” I said. “Leave them alone. Let us be hospitable and not -disturb these pilgrims to the tabernacle of light.” - -All that evening, not one of the seven budged. Next morning, they were -still there. The intoxication of light had made them forget the -intoxication of love. - -With creatures so madly enamoured of the radiant flame, precise and -prolonged experiment becomes unfeasible the moment the observer -requires an artificial illuminant. I give up the Great Peacock and his -nocturnal nuptials. I want a Moth with different habits, equally -skilled in keeping conjugal appointments, but performing in the -day-time. - -Before continuing with a subject that fulfils these conditions, let us -drop chronological order for a moment and say a few words about a -late-comer who arrived after I had completed my enquiries, I mean the -Lesser Peacock (Attacus pavonia minor, Lin.). Somebody brought me, I -don’t know where from, a magnificent cocoon loosely wrapped in an ample -white-silk envelope. Out of this covering, with its thick, irregular -folds, it was easy to extract a case similar in shape to the Great -Peacock’s, but a good deal smaller. The fore-end, worked into the -fashion of an eel-trap by means of free and converging fibres, which -prevent access to the dwelling while permitting egress without a breach -of the walls, indicated a kinswoman of the big nocturnal Moth; the silk -bore the spinner’s mark. - -And, in point of fact, towards the end of March, on the morning of Palm -Sunday, the cocoon with the eel-trap formation provides me with a -female of the Lesser Peacock, whom I at once seclude under a wire-gauze -bell in my study. I open the window to allow the event to be made known -all over the district; I want the visitors, if any come, to find free -entrance. The captive grips the wires and does not move for a week. - -A gorgeous creature is my prisoner, in her brown velvet streaked with -wavy lines. She has white fur around her neck; a speck of carmine at -the tip of the upper wings; and four large, eye-shaped spots, in which -black, white, red and yellow-ochre are grouped in concentric crescents. -The dress is very like that of the Great Peacock, but less dark in -colouring. I have seen this Moth, so remarkable for size and costume, -three or four times in my life. It was only the other day that I first -saw the cocoon. The male I have never seen. I only know that, according -to the books, he is half the size of the female and of a brighter and -more florid colour, with orange-yellow on the lower wings. - -Will he come, the unknown spark, the plume-wearer on whom I have never -set eyes, so rare does he appear to be in my part of the country? In -his distant hedges will he receive news of the bride that awaits him on -my study table? I venture to feel sure of it; and I am right. Here he -comes, even sooner than I expected. - -On the stroke of noon, as we were sitting down to table, little Paul -who is late owing to his eager interest in what is likely to happen, -suddenly runs up to us, his cheeks aglow. In his fingers flutters a -pretty Moth, a Moth caught that moment hovering in front of my study. -Paul shows me his prize; his eyes ask an unspoken question. - -“Hullo!” I say. “This is the very pilgrim we were expecting. Let’s fold -up our napkins and go and see what’s happening. We can dine later.” - -Dinner is forgotten in the presence of the wonders that are taking -place. With inconceivable punctuality, the plume-wearers hasten to -answer the captive’s magic call. They arrive one by one, with a -tortuous flight. All of them come from the north. This detail has its -significance. As a matter of fact, during the past week we have -experienced a fierce return of winter. The north wind has been blowing -a gale, killing the imprudent almond-blossoms. It was one of those -ferocious storms which, as a rule, usher in the spring in our part of -the world. To-day the temperature has suddenly grown milder, but the -wind is still blowing from the north. - -Now at this first visit all the Moths hurrying to the prisoner enter -the enclosure from the north; they follow the movement of the air; not -one beats against it. If their compass were a sense of smell similar to -our own, if they were guided by odoriferous particles dissolved in the -air, they ought to arrive from the opposite direction. If they came -from the south, we might believe them to be informed by effluvia -carried by the wind; coming as they do from the north, through the -mistral, that mighty sweeper of the atmosphere, how can we suppose them -to have perceived, at a great distance, what we call a smell? This -reflux of scented atoms in a direction contrary to the aerial current -seems to me inadmissible. - -For a couple of hours, in radiant sunshine, the visitors come and go -outside the front of the study. Most of them search for a long while, -exploring the wall, flitting along the ground. To see their hesitation, -one would think that they were at a loss to discover the exact place of -the bait that attracts them. Though they have come from very far -without mistake, they seem uncertain of their bearings once they are on -the spot. Nevertheless, sooner or later they enter the room and pay -their respects to the captive, without much importunity. At two o’clock -all is over. Ten Moths have been here. - -All through the week, each time at noon-day, when the light is at its -brightest, Moths arrive, but in decreasing numbers. The total is nearly -forty. I see no reason to repeat experiments which could add nothing to -what I already know; and I confine myself to stating two facts. In the -first place, the Lesser Peacock is a day insect, that is to say, he -celebrates his wedding in the brilliant light of the middle of the day. -He needs radiant sunshine. The Great Peacock, on the contrary, whom he -so closely resembles in his adult form and in the work which he does as -a caterpillar, requires the dusk of the early hours of the night. Let -him who can explain this strange contrast of habits. - -In the second place, a powerful air-current, sweeping the other way any -particles capable of instructing the sense of smell, does not prevent -the Moths’ arriving from a direction opposite to that of the -odoriferous flux, as our physics imagine it. - -If I am to go on with my observations, I want a day Moth; not the -Lesser Peacock, who made his appearance too late, at a time when I had -nothing to ask him, but another, no matter whom, provided that he be -quick at discovering nuptial feasts. Shall I find this Moth? - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -THE BANDED MONK - - -Yes, I shall find him; indeed I have him already. A little chap of -seven, with a wideawake face that doesn’t get washed every day, bare -feet and a pair of tattered breeches held up by a bit of string, a boy -who comes regularly to supply the house with turnips and tomatoes, -arrives one morning carrying his basket of vegetables. After the few -sous due to his mother for the greens have been counted one by one into -his hand, he produces from his pocket something which he found the day -before, beside a hedge, while picking grass for the Rabbits: - -“And what about this?” he asks, holding the thing out to me. “What -about this? Will you have it?” - -“Yes, certainly I’ll have it. Try and find me some more, as many as you -can, and I’ll promise you plenty of rides on the roundabout on Sunday. -Meanwhile, my lad, here’s a penny for you. Don’t make a mistake when -you give in your accounts; put it somewhere where you won’t mix it up -with the turnip-money.” - -Dazzled with delight at the sight of so much wealth, my little -ragamuffin promises to search with a will, already seeing visions of a -fortune to be his. - -When he has gone, I examine the thing. It is worth while. It is a -handsome cocoon, blunt-shaped, not at all unlike the product of our -Silk-worm nurseries, of a firm consistency and a tawny colour. The -cursory information which I have picked up from books of reference -makes me almost certain that it is the Bombyx of the Oak, the Oak -Eggar. If this is so, what luck! I shall be able to continue my -observations and perhaps complete what the Great Peacock began to show -me. - -The Oak Eggar is, in fact, a classic; there is not an entomological -treatise but speaks of his exploits in the wedding-season. They tell us -how a mother hatches in captivity, inside a room and even hidden in a -box. She is far away from the country, amid the tumult of a big town. -The event is nevertheless divulged to those whom it concerns in the -woods and the meadows. Guided by some inconceivable compass, the males -arrive, hastening from the distant fields; they go to the box, tap at -it, fly round and round it. - -I had read of these marvels; but seeing, seeing with one’s own eyes, -and at the same time experimenting a little is quite another matter. -What does my penny purchase hold in store for me? Will the famous -Bombyx emerge from it? - -Let us call her by her other name: the Banded Monk. This unusual name -of Monk is suggested by the male’s dress: a monk’s frock of a modest -rusty brown. But in this case the stuff is a delicious velvet, with a -pale transversal band and a little white, eye-shaped dot on the front -wings. - -The Banded Monk is not, in my region, a common Moth whom we are likely -to catch if the fancy takes us to go out with a net at the proper -season. I have never seen it about the village, especially not in my -lonely enclosure, during all the twenty years that I have spent here. I -am not a fervent hunter, I admit; the collector’s dead insect interests -me very little; I want it alive, in the full exercise of its faculties. -But I make up for the absence of the collector’s zeal by an attentive -eye for all that enlivens the fields. A Moth so remarkable in size and -costume would certainly not have escaped me had I met him. - -The little seeker whom I had caught so nicely with a promise of the -roundabout never made a second find. For three years I requisitioned -friends and neighbours, especially the youngsters, those sharp-eyed -scrapers of the brushwood; I myself scraped a great deal under masses -of dead leaves, inspected stone-heaps, examined hollow tree-trunks. My -trouble was in vain: the precious cocoon was nowhere to be found. -Suffice it to say that the Banded Monk is very scarce in my -neighbourhood. The importance of this detail will be seen when the time -comes. - -As I suspected, my solitary cocoon did belong to the famous Moth. On -the 20th of August there emerges a female, corpulent and big-bellied, -attired like the male, but in a lighter frock, more in the nankeen -style. I establish her in a wire-gauze bell-jar in the middle of my -study, on the big laboratory-table, littered with books, pots, trays, -boxes, test-tubes and other engines of science. I have described the -setting before: it is the same as in the case of the Great Peacock. The -room is lighted by two windows looking out on the garden. One is -closed, the other is kept open day and night. The Moth is placed -between the two, in the shadow, some four or five yards away. - -The rest of the day and the following day pass without anything worth -mentioning. Hanging by her claws to the front of the trellis-work, on -the side nearest the light, the prisoner is motionless, inert. There is -no waving of the wings, no quivering of the antennæ. Even so did the -female Great Peacock behave. - -The mother Bombyx matures; her tender flesh hardens. By some process of -which our science has not the remotest idea, she elaborates an -irresistible bait which will bring callers flocking to her from the -four corners of the heavens. What takes place in that fat body, what -transformations are performed that shall presently revolutionize -everything around? Were they known to us, the Moth’s nostrums would add -a cubit to our stature. - -On the third day the bride is ready. The festivities burst into full -swing. I was in the garden, already despairing of success, so long were -things delayed, when, at about three o’clock in the afternoon, in very -hot weather and brilliant sunshine, I saw a host of Moths gyrating in -the embrasure of the open window. - -It is the lovers coming to call upon their sweetheart. Some are just -leaving the room, others going in, others again are perched upon the -wall, resting as though jaded after a long journey. I see some -approaching in the distance, over the walls, over the curtain of -cypress-trees. They are hurrying up from all directions, but becoming -more and more rare. I missed the beginning of the reception; and the -guests are nearly all here. - -Let us go upstairs. This time, in broad daylight, without losing a -single detail, I once more witness the bewildering spectacle into which -the great night Moth initiated me. My study is filled with a swarm of -males, whom I estimate at a glance to number about sixty, as far as it -is possible to make a count in this seething mass. After circling a few -times round the cage, several go to the open window, but return again -forthwith and resume their evolutions. The most eager perch on the -cage, hustle and trample on one another, fighting for the good places. -Inside the barrier, the captive waits impassively, with her great -paunch hanging against the wires. She gives not a sign of emotion in -the presence of the turbulent throng. - -Going in or going out, fussing round the cage or flitting through the -room, for more than three hours they keep up their frenzied saraband. -But the sun is sinking, the temperature becomes a little cooler. -Chilled likewise is the ardour of the Moths. Many go out and do not -come in again. Others take up their positions in readiness for the -morrow; they settle on the transoms of the closed window, as the Great -Peacocks did. The celebration is over for to-day. It will certainly be -renewed to-morrow, for it is still without result, because of the -wires. - -But alas, to my great dismay, it is not renewed; and this through my -own fault! Late in the day, some one brings me a Praying Mantis, worthy -of attention because of her exceptionally small size. Preoccupied with -the events of the afternoon, without thinking what I am doing, I -hastily place the carnivorous insect in the cage that holds my Bombyx. -Not for a moment do I dream that this co-habitation can turn out ill. -The Mantis is such a little, slender thing; the other is so obese! And -thus I entertained no apprehensions. - -Ah, little did I know the bloodthirsty fury of which the grapnelled -insect is capable! Next morning, to my bitter astonishment, I find the -tiny Mantis devouring the huge Moth. The head and the front part of the -breast have already disappeared. Horrible creature! What a -disappointment I owe to you! Farewell to my researches, which I had -cherished in my imagination all night long; not for three years shall I -be able to resume them, for lack of a subject. - -Bad luck must not, however, make us forget the little that we have -learnt. At one sitting, some sixty males came. Considering the rarity -of the Monk and remembering the years of fruitless searches conducted -by my assistants and myself, we stand astounded at this number. With a -female for a bait, the undiscoverable has suddenly become a multitude. - -Now where did they come from? From every quarter and from very far, -beyond a doubt. During my years of exploration of my neighbourhood, I -have got to know every bush in it and every heap of stones; and I am in -a position to declare that there are no Oak Eggars there. To make the -swarm that filled my study, the whole of the surrounding district must -have contributed, from this side and from that, within a radius which I -dare not determine. - -Three years pass; and fortune persistently entreated at last grants me -two Monk-cocoons. Towards the middle of August, both of them, within a -few days of each other, give me a female. This is a piece of luck which -will allow me to vary and renew my tests. - -I quickly repeat the experiments which have already procured me a most -positive reply from the Great Peacock. The pilgrim of the day is no -less clever than the pilgrim of the night. He baffles all my tricks. He -hastens infallibly to the prisoner, in her wire-gauze cage, in whatever -part of the house the apparatus be installed; he is able to discover -her hidden in a cupboard; he guesses her secret presence in a box of -any kind, provided that it be not tightly closed. He ceases to come, -for lack of information, when the casket is hermetically sealed. Thus -far we see merely a repetition of the feats of the Great Peacock. - -A well-closed box, the air contained in which does not communicate with -the outer atmosphere, leaves the Monk in complete ignorance of the -prisoner’s whereabouts. Not one arrives, even when the box is exposed -for every eye to see in the window. This brings back, more urgently -than ever, the idea of odoriferous effluvia, intransmissible through a -wall of metal, cardboard, wood or glass, no matter which. - -When put to the test, the great night Moth was not baffled by the -naphthaline, whose powerful smell ought, to my thinking, to mask -ultrasubtle emanations, imperceptible to any human nostrils. I repeat -the experiment with the Monk. This time I lavish all the resources in -the way of scents and stenches that my store of drugs permits. - -I place the saucers, partly inside the wire-gauze cage, the female’s -prison, and partly all round it, in a continuous circle. Some contain -naphthaline, others oil of lavender, others paraffin, others, lastly, -alkaline sulphurs smelling of rotten eggs. Short of asphyxiating the -prisoner, I can do no more. These arrangements are made in the morning, -so that the room may be thoroughly saturated when the trysting-hour -arrives. - -In the afternoon, the study has become an odious laboratory in which -the penetrating aroma of lavender-oil and the foul stench of -sulphuretted hydrogen predominate. Remember that I smoke in this room -and plentifully at that. Will the concentrated odours of a gas-works, a -smoker’s divan, a scent-shop, an oil-well and a chemical factory -succeed in putting off the Monk? - -Not at all. A little before three, the Moths arrive, as numerous as -ever. They go to the cage, which I have taken pains to cover with a -thick kitchen-cloth, so as to increase the difficulty. Though they see -nothing after they have entered, though they are steeped in a foreign -atmosphere in which any subtle fragrance should have been annihilated, -they fly towards the prisoner and try to get at her by slipping under -the folds of the cloth. My artifices are fruitless. - -After this reverse, so definite in its results, which repeats what my -naphthaline experiment with the Great Peacock taught me, I ought, -logically speaking, to give up the theory that odorous effluvia serve -as a guide to the Moths invited to the nuptial feast. That I did not do -so was due to a casual observation. The unexpected, the fortuitous, -often provides us with one of those surprises which show us the road to -the truth, hitherto sought in vain. - -One afternoon, trying to discover whether sight plays any part in the -search, once that the Moths have entered the room, I place the female -in a glass bell-jar and give her a little oak-branch, with withered -leaves, as a perch. The apparatus is put on a table, opposite the open -window. On entering, the Moths cannot fail to see the prisoner, -standing as she does where they are bound to pass. The pan with its -layer of sand, in which the female spent the previous night and the -morning under a wire-gauze cover, is in my way. I put it, without -premeditation, on the floor at the other end of the room, in a corner -which is only dimly lighted. It is seven yards from the window. - -The result of these preparations upsets all my ideas. Of the Moths -arriving, none stops at the glass bell, where the female is plainly -visible, in the full light. They pass by with utter indifference. Not a -glance in her direction, not an enquiry. They all fly right to the far -end of the room, to the dusky corner where I placed the tray and the -cage. They alight on the trellised top and explore it at length, -flapping their wings and hustling one another a little. All the -afternoon, until sunset, they dance around the deserted dome the same -saraband to which the actual presence of the female would give rise. At -last they fly away, but not all of them. There are persistent ones who -refuse to go, rooted to the spot by some magic attraction. - -A strange result indeed: my Moths hasten to where there is nothing, -take their stand there and will not be dissuaded by the repeated -warnings of their eyes; they pass without stopping for a moment by the -bell-glass in which the female cannot fail to be perceived by one or -other of those coming and going. Befooled by a lure, they pay no -attention to the real thing. - -What is it that deceives them? The whole of the night before and all -this morning, the female has sojourned under the wire-gauze cover, -either hanging to the trellis-work, or resting on the sand in the pan. -Whatever she touched, above all with her fat belly apparently, has -become impregnated, as the result of long contact, with certain -emanations. There you have her bait, her love-philtre; there you have -what revolutionizes the world of Monks. The sand retains it for a time -and spreads its effluvia around. - -It is smell therefore that guides the Moths, that gives them -information at a distance. Dominated by the sense of smell, they take -no notice of what their eyes tell them; they pass by the glass prison -in which their lady-love is now interned; they go to the wires, to the -sand, on which the magic cruets have shed their contents; they race to -the wilderness where naught remains of the witch but the scented -evidence of her sojourn. - -The irresistible philtre takes a certain time to elaborate. I picture -it as an exhalation which is gradually given off and saturates -everything that touches the fat, motionless creature. When the glass -bell stands directly on the table or, better still, on a square of -glass, the communication between the interior and the outer air is -insufficient; and the males, perceiving nothing by the sense of smell, -keep away, however long the experiment be continued. At the actual -moment, I cannot substantiate this non-transmission through a screen, -for, even if I establish ample communication, if I separate the bell -from its support by means of three wedges, the Moths do not come at -first, however many there may be in the room. But wait for half an -hour, more or less: the alembic of feminine flavours begins its -distilling and the rush of visitors takes place as usual. - -Now that I possess these data, this unexpected light on the subject, I -am at liberty to vary my experiments, all of which lead to the same -conclusion. In the morning, I establish the female under a wire-gauze -cover. Her perch is a little oak-twig similar to the last. Here, -motionless, as though dead, she remains for long hours, buried in the -tuft of leaves that is to be impregnated with her emanations. When -visiting-time approaches, I withdraw the twig, perfectly saturated, and -lay it on a chair, near the open window. On the other hand, I leave the -female under her cover, well in view on the table, in the middle of the -room. - -The Moths arrive, first one, then two and three, soon five and six. -They come in, go out, come in again, fly up and down, go to and fro, -keeping all the time to the neighbourhood of the chair with its -oak-branch. Not one makes for the big table, a few paces farther into -the room, where the female is waiting for them under the trellised -dome. They are hesitating, that is clear; they are seeking. - -At last they find. And what do they find? The very twig which in the -morning had served the pot-bellied matron as a bed. With wings swiftly -fluttering, they alight upon the branch; they explore it above and -below, probe it, lift it and move it, until at last the little bit of -foliage drops on the floor. The probing between the leaves continues -none the less. Under the buffeting of the wings and the clawing of the -feet, the stick is now running along the ground, like a scrap of paper -pawed by a kitten. - -While the twig is moving away with its band of explorers, two new -arrivals come upon the scene. On their way, they have to pass the -chair, which for a brief spell bore the leafy stick. They stop at it -and eagerly investigate the very spot which but now was covered by the -branch. And yet, in their case as in that of the others, the real -object of their desires is close by them, under a wire gauze which I -have omitted to veil. No one notices it. On the floor, the Monks -continue to hustle the mattress on which the female lay in the morning; -on the chair, they still fumble at the spot where this bedding was -first placed. The sun goes down; the time comes to depart. Besides, the -effluvia of passion are growing fainter, are dispersing. The visitors -go away without more ado. Good-bye till to-morrow. - -The following tests tell me that any material, no matter what, can take -the place of the leafy branch, that chance inspiration of mine. Some -time in advance, I place the female on a couch of cloth or flannel, of -wadding or paper. I even subject her to the hardship of a camp-bed of -wood, glass, marble or metal. All these objects, after a contact of -sufficient length, have the same powerful attraction for the males as -the mother Monk herself. They retain this property to a varying extent, -according to their nature. The best are wadding, flannel, dust, sand, -in short, porous objects. Metals, marble and glass, on the contrary, -soon lose their efficacy. Lastly, anything on which the female has -rested communicates its virtue to other places by simple contact, as -witness the Moths crowding to the seat of the cane-bottomed chair after -the oak-branch had fallen from it. - -Let us use one of the best beds, flannel, for instance, and we shall -see a curious thing. I place at the bottom of a long test-tube or of a -narrow-necked bottle, just wide enough to allow of the Moth’s passage, -a piece of flannel on which the mother has been lying all the morning. -The callers go into the vessels, flounder about, do not know how to get -out again. I have invented a mouse-trap for them by means of which I -could do terrific execution. Let us release the poor things, remove the -piece of stuff and put it away in an hermetically closed box. The -infatuated Moths go back to the test-tube, headlong reenter the trap. -They are attracted by the effluvia which the saturated flannel has -imparted to the glass. - -I am fully convinced. To summon the Moths of the district to the -wedding, to apprise them at a distance of her presence and to guide -them, the bride emits an extremely subtle scent, imperceptible to our -own organs of smell. With the mother Monk held to their nostrils, those -around me perceive not the least odour, not even the youngest, whose -senses are not yet vitiated. - -This quintessence easily impregnates every object on which the female -rests for any length of time; and thenceforth the actual object becomes -as potent a centre of attraction as the mother herself, until the -emanations are dispelled. - -Nothing visible betrays the bait. On a piece of paper, a recent -resting-place around which the visitors crowd, there is not an -appreciable trace, no moisture of any kind; the surface is just as -clean as before the impregnation. - -The product is slowly elaborated and has to accumulate a little while -before manifesting its full strength. When taken from her couch and -placed elsewhere, the female loses her attractions for the time and -becomes an object of indifference; it is the resting-place, saturated -by long contact, that draws the newcomers. But the batteries are -recharged and the deserted one recovers her power. - -The appearance of the warning effluvium is delayed for a longer or -shorter period according to the species. The newly-hatched Moth has to -mature for a time and to put her distillery in order. A female Great -Peacock, born in the morning, sometimes has visitors that same evening, -but oftener on the second day, after preparations lasting some forty -hours. The female Banded Monk adjourns her summons longer than that: -her banns of marriage are not published until after two or three days’ -waiting. - -Let us return for a moment to the problematical functions of the -antennæ. The male Monk sports a sumptuous pair, similar to those of the -Great Peacock, who vies with him in his matrimonial expeditions. Are we -to look upon these hairy feelers as a guiding compass? I repeat, -without laying much stress on the matter, my former amputations. None -of the patients comes back. We must be chary of drawing inferences, -however. The Great Peacock has shown us that the failure to return is -due to more serious reasons than amputation of the horns. - -Moreover, a second Monk, the Clover Bombyx, nearly akin to the first -and, like him, superbly plumed, sets us an exceedingly perplexing -problem. He is fairly plentiful around my place; even in the enclosure -I find his cocoon, which might easily be confused with that of the Oak -Bombyx. I am deceived at first by the resemblance. Out of six cocoons, -from which I expected to obtain Banded Monks, six females of the other -species hatch at the end of August. Well, around those six females, -born in my house, never a male appears, though there is no doubt that -the tufted ones are present in the neighbourhood. - -If spreading feathered antennæ are really organs for receiving -information at a distance, why are not my richly-horned neighbours -informed of what is happening in my study? Why do their fine plumes -leave them indifferent to events that would bring the Banded Monk -hastening up in crowds? Once more, the organ does not determine the -aptitude. This one is gifted and that one is not, despite organic -similarity. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -THE SENSE OF SMELL - - -In physics we hear of nothing nowadays but the Röntgen rays, which -penetrate dense bodies and photograph the invisible for us. A fine -discovery, but how insignificant in face of the surprises which the -future reserves for us when, better-informed of the why and wherefore -of things, we supplement with art the feebleness of our senses and -succeed in rivalling, be it ever so little, the keenness of perception -revealed by the brute creation. - -How enviable, in many cases, is this animal superiority! It teaches us -the poverty of our attainments; it declares the mediocrity of our -sensory apparatus; it gives us evidence of impressions foreign to our -nature; it proclaims realities so far in excess of our attributes that -they astound us. - -A wretched caterpillar, the Pine Processionary, splits his back into -meteorological air-holes which snuff the coming weather and foretell -the squall; the bird of prey, with its incomparably long sight, sees -from high in the clouds the Field-mouse squatting on the ground; the -blinded Bats guide their flight without injury to themselves amid -Spallanzani’s [32] inextricable maze of threads; the Carrier-pigeon, -though moved a hundred leagues from home, infallibly regains his cote -across immensities which he has never traversed unaided; within the -limits of her humbler flight, a Bee, the Chalicodoma, [33] also spans -the unknown, accomplishes a long journey and returns to her mass of -cells. - -The man who has never seen a Dog hunting for truffles does not know one -of the finest achievements of the sense of smell. Absorbed in its -functions, the animal trots along, with its nose to the wind, at a -moderate pace. It stops, questions the ground with its nostrils, -scratches for a few seconds, without undue excitement, and looks up at -its master: - -“Here we are,” it seems to say, “here we are! On my word of honour as a -Dog, there’s a truffle here.” - -And it speaks the truth. The master digs at the point indicated. If the -trowel goes astray, the Dog shows the man how to put it right by -sniffing at the bottom of the hole. Do not be afraid of the stones and -roots in between: despite the depth and intervening obstacles, the -tuber will come. A Dog’s nose cannot lie. - -“Subtlety of smell,” you say. - -I have no objection, if by that you mean that the animal’s nasal -passages are the organ of perception; but is the thing perceived always -a mere smell, in the ordinary acceptation of the word, an effluvium -such as our own senses understand it? I have some reason to doubt this. -Let us set the matter forth. - -I have had the good fortune on several occasions to accompany a Dog who -was a great expert at his trade. Certainly he was nothing to look at, -this artist whom I was so anxious to see at work: just a Dog, placid -and deliberate in his ways, ugly, unkempt; the sort of Dog that you -would never admit to your fireside. Talent and poverty often go hand in -hand. - -His master, a celebrated rabassier [34] in the village, convinced that -I had no intention of stealing his secrets and one day setting up in -competition, allowed me to join him in his expeditions, a favour which -he did not often grant. The worthy man was quite willing to fall in -with my views, once he saw that I was not an apprentice but merely an -enquirer who made drawings [35] and wrote down lists of underground -vegetable things, instead of marketing my bagful of treasure-trove, the -glory of the Christmas Turkey. - -It was agreed between us that the Dog should act as he pleased and -receive a bit of bread as his reward after each discovery, -indiscriminately. Every spot scratched up by his paws was to be dug and -the object indicated extracted without our troubling about its -commercial value. In no case was the master’s experience to intervene -and divert the dog from a spot where practice told him that nothing -saleable was to be found, for, in drawing up my botanical lists, I -preferred wretched and unmarketable products to the choicest morsels, -though these of course were welcomed when they appeared. - -Thus conducted, the underground botanizing was very fruitful. With his -perspicacious nose, the Dog made me gather indifferently the large and -the small, the fresh and the putrid, the scented and the unscented, the -fragrant and the stinking. I was amazed at my collection, which -comprised the greater part of the hypogean fungi in my neighbourhood. - -What a variety of structure and above all of odour, the primary quality -in this question of scent! There are some that have nothing more -noticeable than a vague fungous mustiness, which is more or less -evident in all. Some smell of turnips, of rotten cabbage; some are -fetid enough to fill the collector’s house with their stench. The real -truffle alone possesses the aroma dear to the epicure. - -If smell, as we understand it, is the Dog’s only guide, how does he -manage to find his way through all these incongruous odours? Is he -apprised of the contents of the soil by a general emanation, the -fungous effluvium common to the different species? In that case an -extremely embarrassing question arises. - -I paid some attention to the ordinary mushrooms, many of which, as yet -invisible, announced their coming as imminent by cracking the surface -of the ground. Now I never saw the Dog stop at any of those points -where my eyes divined the cryptogam pushing back the earth with the -thrust of its cap, points where the ordinary fungous smell was -certainly most pronounced. He passed them by scornfully, with not a -sniff, with not a stroke of his paw. And yet the thing was underground; -and its reek was similar to others which he sometimes pointed out to -us. - -I came back from the Dog’s school with the conviction that the -truffle-detecting nose has a better guide than smell, in the sense in -which our olfactory powers realize it. It must perceive, in addition, -effluvia of a different order, full of mystery to us, who are not -equipped accordingly. Light has its dark rays, which are without effect -upon our retinæ, but not apparently upon all. Why should not the domain -of smell have its secret emanations, unknown to our senses but -perceptible to a differently constructed organ of smell? - -If the scent of the Dog leaves us perplexed to this extent, that it is -impossible for us to say exactly or even to suspect what it perceives, -it at least tells us plainly that we should be greatly mistaken to -compare everything by human standards. The world of sensations is far -larger than the limits of our sensibility admit. What a number of facts -in the working of the forces of nature escape us for want of organs -delicate enough to perceive them! - -The unknown, that inexhaustible field which the future will cultivate, -holds harvests in store for us beside which our present knowledge is -but a pitiful gleaning. Under the sickle of science sheaves will one -day fall whose grain to-day would seem a senseless paradox. Scientific -illusions? Not so, if you please, but undeniable and positive -realities, affirmed by the animal world, which in certain respects has -a great advantage over the world of man. - -In spite of his long professional practice, in spite of the aroma of -the tuber which he is seeking, the rabassier cannot guess the presence -of the truffle, which ripens in winter underground, at a depth of -eighteen inches or so; he needs the aid of the Dog or the Pig, whose -scent pries into the secrets of the soil. Well, these secrets are known -to different insects even better than to our two helpers. In order to -discover the tuber on which their family of grubs is to be fed, they -possess a scent of exceptional perfection. - -Long ago, from truffles dug up spoilt and teeming with vermin and -placed in this condition in a glass jar with a layer of fresh sand, I -obtained first a small red Beetle (Anisotoma cinnamomea, Panz.) and -then various Diptera, including a Sapromyzon, who, with her sluggish -flight and feeble frame, reminds me of a Fly, clad in yellow velvet, -known as Scatophaga scybalaria, that placid frequenter of human -excrement in autumn. - -The latter finds her truffle on the surface of the ground, at the foot -of a wall or hedge, man’s usual hasty refuge in the country; but how -does the other know at what point underground lies hers, or rather her -grubs’ truffle? To go down and hunt about in the depths is beyond her -power. Her frail limbs, which the moving of a grain of sand would warp; -her wings, which, if extended, would block her way through a gorge; her -dress of stiff silk, militating against a smooth passage: these are all -against her. The Sapromyzon is obliged to lay her eggs on the surface -of the soil, but she must do so at the very spot beneath which the -truffle lies, for the tiny grubs would die if they had to roam at -random until they came upon their provender, which is always sparsely -distributed. - -The truffle-hunting Fly is therefore informed by her sense of smell of -the spots favourable to her maternal plans; she possesses the scent of -the rabassier Dog, indeed probably a better one, for she knows things -by nature, having never been taught, whereas her rival has only -received an artificial education. - -It would be interesting to follow the Sapromyzon’s manœuvres, but the -idea strikes me as impracticable. The insect is rare, flies away -quickly and is soon out of sight. To observe it closely, to watch it at -work would involve a great loss of time and a degree of assiduity of -which I do not feel capable. Another discoverer of underground fungi -shall reveal what the Fly could hardly be expected to show us. - -This is a pretty little black Beetle, with a pale and velvety belly, -round as a cherry-stone and much the same size. The insect’s official -title is Bolboceras gallicus, Muls. By rubbing the tip of its abdomen -against the edge of its wing-cases it emits a soft chirrup similar to -that of the little birds when their mother comes home with their food. -The male wears a graceful horn on his head, copied on a smaller scale -from that of the Spanish Copris. [36] - -Deceived by this armour, I at first took the insect for a member of the -Dung-beetles’ corporation and brought it up as such in captivity. I -served it with these stercoral dainties which are most appreciated by -its presumed colleagues. But never, no, never did it consent to touch -them. Fie, for shame! Dung to a Bolboceras! Well! What on earth did I -take him for? The epicure expects something very different. He wants -not exactly the truffle of our banquets, but its equivalent. - -This characteristic was not displayed to me without patient -investigation on my part. At the southern foot of the Sérignan hills, -not far from the village, stands a thicket of maritime pines, -alternating with rows of cypress-trees. Here, at the season of All -Saints, after the autumnal rains, the mushrooms abound that frequent -the Coniferæ, in particular the delicious milk-mushroom, which turns -green at any part that is bruised and sheds tears of blood when you -break it. [37] In the mild days of autumn this is the favourite walk of -my household, being far enough to exercise young legs and near enough -not to tire them. - -They find everything there: old Magpies’ nests, formed of bundles of -twigs; Jays squabbling with one another, after filling their crops with -acorns on the oaks hard by; Rabbits suddenly starting out of a -rosemary-bush, showing their little white upturned scuts; Geotrupes -[38] hoarding away food for the winter and heaping up their rubbish on -the threshold of the burrow. And then lovely sand, soft to the touch, -easy to dig into tunnels, easy to build into rows of huts which we -thatch with moss and surmount with a bit of reed by way of a chimney; -and the delicious lunch off an apple to the sound of the Æolian harps -softly sighing through the pine-needles! - -Yes, for the children it is a real paradise, where one goes as a reward -for well-learnt lessons. The grown-ups also have their share of -enjoyment. As far as I am concerned, I have for many years been -watching two insects here, without succeeding in discovering their -family secrets. One of them is Minotaurus typhœus, [39] whose male -carries on his corselet three spikes pointing in front of him. The old -writers used to call him the Phalangist, because of his armour, which -may be compared with the three lines of spears of the Macedonian -phalanx. - -He is a robust fellow, who cares nothing for the winter. All through -the cold season, whenever the weather turns a trifle milder, he leaves -his house discreetly, at nightfall, and gathers, in the immediate -neighbourhood of his burrow, a few Sheep-droppings, ancient, -olive-shaped remains dried by the summer sun. He heaps them in a stack -at the bottom of his larder, shuts the door and eats. When the -provisions are all crumbed and drained of their niggardly juices, he -climbs back to the surface and renews his stores. Thus does he spend -the winter, never resting from his work, except when the weather is too -severe. - -The second object of my observations in the pine-wood is the -Bolboceras. His burrows, distributed here and there, among those of the -Minotaur, are easily distinguished. The Phalangist’s are surmounted by -a bulky mound the materials of which are heaped into a cylinder as long -as one’s finger. Each of these rolls is a load of rubbish pushed -outside by the digger, thrusting with his back from below. The orifice -moreover is closed whenever the Beetle is at home, either enlarging the -shaft or peacefully enjoying his possessions. - -The Bolboceras’ lodging is open and surrounded merely by a padding of -sand. Its depth is slight, nine inches, hardly more. It goes straight -down in very loose soil. It is easily inspected, therefore, if we take -care first to dig a trench in front of it, which will enable us later -to cut away the perpendicular wall, slice by slice, with the blade of a -knife. The burrow then appears at full length, from top to bottom, in a -semicylindrical shape. - -Often the violated dwelling-house is empty. The insect has left during -the night, having finished its business there and gone to settle -elsewhere. The Bolboceras is a nomad, a night-walker, who leaves his -home without regret and easily acquires a new one. Sometimes also the -insect is found at the bottom of the pit: at one time a male, at -another a female, but never the two at a time. The sexes, both equally -zealous in digging burrows, work separately, not together. This is not, -in fact, a family residence, containing the nursery of the young; it is -a temporary abode, dug by each occupant for his own comfort. - -Sometimes we find nothing there but the well-sinker, surprised during -his work of excavation; sometimes, lastly—and the case is not -uncommon—the hermit of the crypt embraces with his legs a small -hypogean fungus, either intact or partly consumed. He clutches it -convulsively, refuses to be parted from it. It is his booty, his -fortune, his worldly goods. Scattered crumbs tell us that we have -caught him feasting. - -Let us take his prize away from him. We shall see a sort of irregular, -rugged purse, closed on every side and varying in size between a pea -and a cherry. Outside it is reddish, rough with little warts; inside it -is smooth and white. The spores, which are ovoid and diaphanous, are -contained, in rows of eight, in long satchels. By these characteristics -we recognize an underground cryptogamous product, nearly related to the -truffles and known to botanists as Hydnocystis arenaria, Tul. - -This throws a light upon the habits of the Bolboceras and upon the -reason why his burrows are so frequently renewed. In the calm of the -twilight, the little gadabout takes to the fields, chirruping softly as -he goes, cheering himself with song. He explores the soil, questions it -as to its contents, just as the Dog does when hunting for truffles. His -sense of smell warns him when the coveted morsel is underneath, covered -by a few inches of sand. Certain of the exact spot where the thing -lies, he digs straight down and never fails to reach it. As long as the -provisions last, he does not go out again. Blissfully he feeds at the -bottom of the well, heedless of the door left open or hardly barred. - -When no more food remains, he moves, looking for another loaf, which -will become the excuse for a fresh burrow, to be abandoned in its turn. -Each fungus consumed represents a new house, which is a mere refectory, -a traveller’s refreshment-room. Thus are the autumn and spring, the -seasons of the hydnocystis, spent in the pleasures of the table, from -one home to the next. - -To study the rabassier insect more closely, in my own house, I should -need a little store of its favourite fare. It would be waste of time to -seek for it myself, by digging at random: the little cryptogam is not -so plentiful that I can hope to strike it with my trowel without a -guide. The truffle-hunter needs his Dog; my informer shall be the -Bolboceras himself. Behold me turned into a rabassier of a new kind. I -reveal my secret, which can only raise a smile from my original -instructor in underground botany, if he should ever hear of my singular -form of competition. - -The subterranean fungi occur only at certain points, often in groups. -Now the Beetle has been this way; with his delicate scent he has -recognized the site as good, for the burrows are numerous hereabouts. -We will therefore dig near the holes. The clue is accurate. In a few -hours, thanks to the tracks left by the Bolboceras, I possess a handful -of hydnocystes. It is the first time that I have gathered this -particular fungus. Let us now catch the insect. That presents no -difficulties: we have only to dig up the burrows. - -I make my experiments the same evening, filling a large earthen pan -with fresh, sifted sand. With a stick as thick as my finger, I make six -vertical tunnels in the sand, two decimetres [40] deep and placed at a -suitable distance apart. A hydnocystis is lowered to the bottom of -each; and I insert a fine straw, to show me the exact position later. -Lastly, I fill up the six cavities with caked sand. When this surface -has been carefully smoothed, so that the level is everywhere the same, -except for the six straws, landmarks that mean nothing to the -Bolboceras, I let loose my captives, covering them with a wire-gauze -cage. There are eight of them. - -At first there is nothing to see save the inevitable uneasiness due to -the incidents of their exhumation, transport and confinement in an -unknown place. My exiles from home try to escape, climb up the wire, -burrow right at the edge of the enclosure. Night falls and things grow -calmer. Two hours later, I come to take a last look at them. Three are -still buried under a thin layer of sand. The five others have each dug -a perpendicular shaft at the very foot of the straws which tell me -where the fungi lie. Next morning, the sixth straw has its well like -the others. - -This is the moment to see what is happening underground. I remove the -sand methodically in vertical slices. At the bottom of each burrow is a -Bolboceras eating his truffle, the hydnocystis. - -Let us repeat the experiment with the partly-consumed victuals. The -result is the same. At one brief, nocturnal spell of work, the dainty -is discovered underground and reached by means of a gallery which runs -plumb to the spot where the morsel lies. There is no hesitation, no -trial excavation guided by guesswork. This is proved by the surface of -the soil, which everywhere is just as I left it when I smoothed it -down. The insect could not have made straighter for the coveted object -had it been guided by sight; it always digs at the foot of the straws, -my sign-posts. The Dog, nosing the ground for truffles, hardly achieves -this degree of precision. - -Has the hydnocystis then a very pungent smell, able to give such -positive information to its consumer’s scent? Not at all. To our -nostrils it is a neutral object, devoid of any appreciable olfactory -character. A tiny pebble taken out of the ground would impress us just -as much with its faint aroma of fresh earth. As a revealer of -underground fungous products, the Bolboceras here rivals the Dog. He -would even rise superior to the Dog, were he able to generalize. But he -is a rigorous specialist: he knows only the hydnocystis. Nothing else, -so far as I am aware, tempts him to dig. [41] - -Both of them search the subsoil very closely, at the level of the -ground; and the object which they seek is not far down. Were they -farther away, neither the Dog nor the insect would notice effluvia so -subtle, not even the smell of a truffle. To make an impression at a -great distance, powerful odours are needed, capable of perception by -our olfactory sense. Then the exploiters of the odorous thing come -hastening up on all sides from afar. - -When, for the purpose of my studies, I require insects that dissect -corpses, I expose a dead Mole in the sun, in a distant corner of the -enclosure. As soon as the animal swells, distended by the gases of -putrefaction, and the skin begins to turn green and the fur to fall -from it, up come numbers of Silphæ [42] and Dermestes, [43] Necrophori -[44] and other Burying-beetles, of whom one would find not a single -specimen in the garden, or even in the neighbourhood, without this -bait. - -They have been informed by their sense of smell, at a great distance -all around, whereas I myself can avoid the stench by taking a few steps -back. Compared with their scent, mine is contemptible; but still, in -their case as well as mine, there is really here what our language -calls a smell. - -I can do better still with the flower of the dragon arum (Arum -dracunculus), so remarkable for its shape and for its unequalled -stench. Imagine a wide, lanceolate blade, of a clarety purple, half a -yard long and rolled below into an ovoid pouch the size of a hen’s egg. -Through the opening of this wallet rises a central column springing -from the bottom, a long, bright-green club, encircled at its base by -two bracelets, one of ovaries, the other of stamens. Such, briefly -described, is the flower, or rather the inflorescence, of the dragon -arum. - -For two days it exhales a frightful stench of carrion, worse than the -proximity of a dead Dog would yield. During the hottest part of the -day, with a wind blowing, it is loathsome, unbearable. Let us brave the -infected atmosphere and go up to it; we shall behold a curious sight. - -Informed by the foul odour, which spreads far and wide, various insects -come flying along, such insects as make sausage-meat of small -corpses—Toads, Adders, Lizards, Hedgehogs, Moles, Field-mice—which the -husbandman hits with his spade and flings away disembowelled on the -foot-path. They swoop down upon the great leaf, which, with its livid -purple, looks like a strip of meat gone bad; they caper about, -intoxicated by the smell of corpse which they love; they roll down the -slope and are swallowed up in the purse. After a few hours of bright -sunshine, the receptacle is full. - -Let us look inside, through the narrow opening. No elsewhere could you -see such a crowd. It is a mad whirl of backs and bellies, of wing-cases -and legs, swarming, rolling over and over, amid the snap of interlocked -joints, rising and falling, floating and sinking, seething and bubbling -without end. It is a drunken revel, an epidemic of delirium tremens. - -Some, few as yet, emerging from the mass, climb to the opening by means -of the central pole or the walls of the enclosure. Will they take wing -and make their escape? Not they! Standing on the brink of the chasm, -almost free, they drop back into the whirlpool, in a fresh bout of -intoxication. The bait is irresistible. Not one of them will quit the -assembly until the evening, or perhaps next morning, when the heady -fumes have evaporated. Then the mass becomes disentangled; and the -insects extricate themselves from one another’s embraces and slowly, as -it were regretfully, leave the place and fly away. At the bottom of -this devil’s purse remains a heap of dead and dying, of severed limbs -and disjointed wing-cases, the inevitable result of the frenzied orgy. -Soon, Wood-lice, Earwigs and Ants will arrive and devour the deceased. - -What were they doing there? Were they the prisoners of the flower? Had -it converted itself into a trap which allowed them to enter, but -prevented them from escaping, by means of a fence of converging hairs? -No, they were not prisoners; they had full liberty to go away, as is -shown by the final exodus, which is effected without impediment. -Deceived by a false odour, were they doing their best to instal their -eggs, as they would have done under a corpse? Not that either. There is -no trace of an attempt at egg-laying in the dragon’s purse. They came, -enticed by the smell of a dead body, their supreme delight; they were -drunk with corpse; and they spun round frantically in an undertakers’ -carnival. - -When the bacchanal dance is at its height, I try to count the number of -the arrivals. I rip up the floral pouch and pour its contents into a -flask. Absolutely tipsy though they be, many would escape during the -census, which I wish to take accurately. A few drops of carbon -bisulphide deprive the crowd of motion. The counting then shows that -there were over four hundred. Such was the living billow which I saw -surging just now in the dragon’s purse. - -The throng consists entirely of two families, Dermestes and Saprini, -[45] both of whom are very busy in spring turning derelict corpses to -account. Here is a complete list of the visitors to a single flower, -with the number of representatives of each species: Dermestes Frischii, -Kugel., 120; D. undulatus, Brahm, 90; D. pardalis, Schoenh., 1; -Saprinus subnitidus, De Mars., 160; S. maculatus, Ross., 4; S. -detersus, Illig., 15; S. semipunctatus, De Mars., 12; S. œneus, Fabr., -2; S. speculifer, Latr., 2. Total: 406. - -Another detail deserves attention just as much as this enormous figure; -and that is the complete absence of a number of other genera which are -as passionately fond of small corpses as are the Dermestes and Saprini. -My charnel-houses of Moles never fail to be visited by the Silphæ and -Necrophori: Silpha sinuata, Fabr.; S. rugosa, Lin.; S. obscura, Lin.; -Necrophorus vestigator, Hersch. The reek of the dragon arum leaves them -all indifferent. None of them is represented in the ten flowers which I -examine. - -Nor are any Diptera, those other devotees of corruption. Several Flies, -some grey or bluey, others a metallic green, come up, it is true, -settle on the edge of the flower and even find their way into the fetid -wallet; but they are almost immediately undeceived and fly away. Only -the Dermestes and Saprini stay behind. Why? - -My friend Bull, as decent a Dog as ever lived, had this among many -other eccentricities: if he found in the dust of the road the dried up -corpse of a Mole flattened under the heels of the passers-by, mummified -by the heat of the sun, he would revel in rolling himself over it from -the tip of his nose to the end of his tail; he would rub himself in it -over and over again, shaken with nervous spasms, turning first on one -side, then on the other. It was his sachet of musk, his flask of -eau-de-Cologne. When scented to his liking, he would get up, shake -himself and trot off, pleased as Punch with his pomade. Let us not -abuse him and, above all, let us not discuss the matter. There are -tastes of all kinds in this world. - -Why should not some of the insects that dote on the smell of the dead -have similar habits? Dermestes and Saprini come to the dragon arum; all -day long they swarm in throngs, although free to go away; many of them -die in the riot of the orgy. It is no rich provender that keeps them, -for the flower gives them nothing to eat; it is not a question of -laying eggs, for they take good care not to settle their grubs in that -famine-stricken spot. What are they doing here, the frenzied ones? -Apparently intoxicating themselves with fetidness, just as Bull did on -the carcass of a Mole. - -And this intoxication of smell attracts them from every part around, -from very far perhaps, one cannot tell. Even so the Necrophori, in -quest of an establishment for their young, hasten from the fields to my -putrefying Moles. Both are informed by a potent smell, which offends -our nostrils sixty yards away, but which travels ahead and delights -them at distances where our own power of scent ceases. - -The hydnocystis, the Bolboceras’ treat, has none of these violent -emanations, capable of being diffused through space; it is devoid of -smell, at least to us. The insect that hunts for it does not come from -a distance; it inhabits the very places where the cryptogam lies. -However faint the effluvia of the underground morsel, the prying -epicure, equipped for the purpose, has every facility for perceiving -them: he operates close by, on the surface of the soil. The Dog’s case -is the same: he goes along searching, with his nose to the ground. -Then, too, the real truffle, the essential object of his quest, -possesses a most pronounced odour. - -But what are we to say of the Great Peacock and the Banded Monk, making -their way to the female born in captivity? They hasten from the ends of -the horizon. What do they perceive at that distance? Is it really an -odour, as our physiology understands the word? I cannot bring myself to -believe it. - -The Dog smells the truffle by sniffing the earth, quite close to the -tuber; he finds his master at great distances by consulting the scent -of his footprints. But is he able to discover the truffle hundreds of -yards away, miles away? Can he join his master in the complete absence -of a trail? Certainly not. For all his fineness of scent, the Dog is -incapable of such a feat, which is performed, however by the Moth, who -is put off neither by distance nor by the lack of any traces out of -doors of the female hatched on my table. - -It is a recognized fact that smell, ordinary smell, the smell that -affects our nostrils, consists of molecules emanating from the scented -body. The odorous matter dissolves and is diffused throughout the air -by communicating to the air its aroma, even as sugar dissolves and is -diffused in water by communicating to the water its sweetness. Smell -and taste touch each other at some points; in both cases there is a -contact between the material particles that give the impression and the -sensitive papillæ that receive it. - -Nothing can be simpler or clearer than that the dragon arum elaborates -an intensely strong essence with which the air is impregnated and -infected all around. Thus the Dermestes and Saprini, those passionate -lovers of carrion smells, are informed by molecular diffusion. In the -same way, the putrid Toad gives out and disseminates the stinking atoms -that are the Necrophorus’ delight. - -But what is materially emitted by the female Bombyx or Great Peacock? -Nothing, according to our sense of smell. And this nothing is supposed, -when the males congregate, to saturate an immense circle, several miles -in radius, with its molecules! What the horrible stench of the dragon -arum is unable to do the absence of odour is believed to accomplish! -However divisible matter may be, the mind refuses to accept such -conclusions. It would be tantamount to reddening a lake with an atom of -carmine, to filling immensity with nothing. - -Another argument. When my study is saturated beforehand with pungent -odours which ought to overcome and destroy the most delicate effluvia, -the male Moths arrive without the least sign of embarrassment. - -A loud noise kills the faint note and prevents it from being heard; a -bright light eclipses a feeble gleam. These are waves of the same -nature. But the roar of thunder cannot cause the least jet of light to -pale; nor can the dazzling glory of the sun stifle the least sound. -Being of different natures, light and sound do not influence each -other. - -The experiment with the lavender-oil, naphthaline and the rest would -therefore seem to prove that odour proceeds from two sources. For -emission substitute undulation; and the problem of the Great Peacock is -explained. Without losing any of its substance, a luminous point shakes -the ether with its vibrations and fills a circle of indefinite width -with light. This must almost express the working of the mother Bombyx’ -tell-tale discharge. It does not emit molecules: it vibrates; it sets -in motion waves capable of spreading to distances incompatible with a -real diffusion of matter. - -In its entirety, smell would thus seem to have two domains: that of the -particles dissolved in the air and that of the ethereal waves. The -first alone is known to us. It belongs also to the insect. It is this -which informs the Saprinus of the dragon arum’s fetidity and the Silpha -and Necrophorus of the stench of the Mole. - -The second, which is far superior in its range through space, escapes -us altogether, because we lack the necessary sensory equipment. The -Great Peacock and the Banded Monk know it at the time of the nuptial -rejoicings. And many others must share it in various degrees, according -to the exigencies of their mode of life. - -Like light, odour has its X-rays. Should science one day, instructed by -the insect, endow us with a radiograph of smells, this artificial nose -will open out to us a world of marvels. - - - - - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -THE CABBAGE-CATERPILLAR - - -The cabbage of our modern kitchen-gardens is a semi-artificial plant, -the produce of our agricultural ingenuity quite as much as of the -niggardly gifts of nature. Spontaneous vegetation supplied us with the -long-stalked, scanty-leaved, ill-smelling wilding, as found, according -to the botanists, on the ocean cliffs. He had need of a rare -inspiration who first showed faith in this rustic clown and proposed to -improve it in his garden-patch. - -Progressing by infinitesimal degrees, culture wrought miracles. It -began by persuading the wild cabbage to discard its wretched leaves, -beaten by the sea-winds, and to replace them by others, ample and -fleshy and close-fitting. The gentle cabbage submitted without protest. -It deprived itself of the joys of light by arranging its leaves in a -large, compact head, white and tender. In our day, among the successors -of those first tiny hearts, are some that, by virtue of their massive -bulk, have earned the glorious name of chou quintal, as who should say, -a hundredweight of cabbage. They are real monuments of green stuff. - -Later, man thought of obtaining a generous dish with the thousand -little sprays of the inflorescence. The cabbage consented. Under the -cover of the central leaves, it gorged with food its sheaves of -blossom, its flower-stalks, its branches and worked the lot into a -fleshy conglomeration. This is the cauliflower, the broccoli. - -Differently entreated, the plant, economizing in the centre of its -shoot, set a whole family of close-wrapped cabbages ladder-wise on a -tall stem. A multitude of dwarf leaf-buds took the place of the -colossal head. This is the Brussels sprout. - -Next comes the turn of the stump, an unprofitable, almost wooden thing, -which seemed never to have any other purpose than to act as a support -for the plant. But the tricks of gardeners are capable of everything, -so much so that the stalk yields to the grower’s suggestions and -becomes fleshy and swells into an ellipse similar to the turnip, of -which it possesses all the merits of corpulence, flavour and delicacy; -only the strange product serves as a base for a few sparse leaves, the -last protests of a real stem that refuses to lose its attributes -entirely. This is the colerape. - -If the stem allows itself to be allured, why not the root? It does in -fact, yield to the blandishments of agriculture: it dilates its pivot -into a flat turnip, which half emerges from the ground. This is the -rutabaga, or swede, the turnip-cabbage of our northern districts. - -Incomparably docile under our nursing, the cabbage has given its all -for our nourishment and that of our cattle: its leaves, its flowers, -its buds, its stalk, its root; all that it now wants is to combine the -ornamental with the useful, to smarten itself, to adorn our flowerbeds -and cut a good figure on a drawing-room table. It has done this to -perfection, not with its flowers, which, in their modesty, continue -intractible, but with its curly and variegated leaves, which have the -undulating grace of Ostrich-feathers and the rich colouring of a mixed -bouquet. None who beholds it in this magnificence will recognize the -near relation of the vulgar “greens” that form the basis of our -cabbage-soup. - -The cabbage, first in order of date in our kitchen-gardens, was held in -high esteem by classic antiquity, next after the bean and, later, the -pea; but it goes much farther back, so far indeed that no memories of -its acquisition remain. History pays but little attention to these -details: it celebrates the battle-fields whereon we meet our death, it -scorns to speak of the ploughed fields whereby we thrive; it knows the -names of the kings’ bastards, it cannot tell us the origin of wheat. -That is the way of human folly. - -This silence respecting the precious plants that serve as food is most -regrettable. The cabbage in particular, the venerable cabbage, that -denizen of the most ancient garden-plots, would have had extremely -interesting things to teach us. It is a treasure in itself, but a -treasure twice exploited, first by man and next by the caterpillar of -the Pieris, the common Large White Butterfly whom we all know (Pieris -brassicæ, Lin.). This caterpillar feeds indiscriminately on the leaves -of all varieties of cabbage, however dissimilar in appearance: he -nibbles with the same appetite red cabbage and broccoli, curly greens -and savoy, swedes and turnip-tops, in short, all that our ingenuity, -lavish of time and patience, has been able to obtain from the original -plant since the most distant ages. - -But what did the caterpillar eat before our cabbages supplied him with -copious provender? Obviously the Pieris did not wait for the advent of -man and his horticultural works in order to take part in the joys of -life. She lived without us and would have continued to live without us. -A Butterfly’s existence is not subject to ours, but rightfully -independent of our aid. - -Before the white-heart, the cauliflower, the savoy and the others were -invented, the Pieris’ caterpillar certainly did not lack food: he -browsed the wild cabbage of the cliffs, the parent of all the -latter-day wealth; but, as this plant is not widely distributed and is, -in any case, limited to certain maritime regions, the welfare of the -Butterfly, whether on plain or hill, demanded a more luxuriant and more -common plant for pasturage. This plant was apparently one of the -Cruciferæ, more or less seasoned with sulphuretted essence, like the -cabbages. Let us experiment on these lines. - -I rear the Pieris’ caterpillars from the egg upwards on the wall-rocket -(Diplotaxis tenuifolia, Dec.), which imbibes strong spices along the -edge of the paths and at the foot of the walls. Penned in a large, -wire-gauze bell-cage, they accept this provender without demur; they -nibble it with the same appetite as if it were cabbage; and they end by -producing chrysalids and Butterflies. The change of fare causes not the -least trouble. - -I am equally successful with other crucifers of a less marked flavour: -white mustard (Sinapis incana, Lin.), dyer’s woad (Isatis tinctoria, -Lin.), wild radish (Raphanus raphanistrum, Lin.), whitlow pepperwort -(Lepidium draba, Lin.), hedge-mustard (Sisymbrium officinale, Scop.). -On the other hand, the leaves of the lettuce, the bean, the pea, the -corn-salad are obstinately refused. Let us be content with what we have -seen: the fare has been sufficiently varied to show us that the -Cabbage-caterpillar feeds exclusively on a large number of crucifers, -perhaps even on all. - -As these experiments are made in the enclosure of a bell-cage, one -might imagine that captivity impels the flock to feed, in the absence -of better things, on what it would refuse were it free to hunt for -itself. Having naught else within their reach, the starvelings consume -any and all Cruciferæ, without distinction of species. Can things -sometimes be the same in the open fields, where I play none of my -tricks? Can the family of the White Butterfly be settled on other -crucifers than the cabbage? I start a quest along the paths near the -gardens and end by finding on wild radish and white mustard colonies as -crowded and prosperous as those established on cabbage. - -Now, except when the metamorphosis is at hand, the caterpillar of the -White Butterfly never travels: he does all his growing on the identical -plant whereon he saw the light. The caterpillars observed on the wild -radish, as well as other households, are not, therefore, emigrants who -have come as a matter of fancy from some cabbage-patch in the -neighbourhood: they have hatched on the very leaves where I find them. -Hence I arrive at this conclusion: the White Butterfly, who is fitful -in her flight, chooses cabbage first, to dab her eggs upon, and -different Cruciferæ next, varying greatly in appearance. - -How does the Pieris manage to know her way about her botanical domain? -We have seen the Larini, [46] those explorers of fleshy receptacles -with an artichoke flavour, astonish us with their knowledge of the -flora of the thistle tribe; but their lore might, at a pinch, be -explained by the method followed at the moment of housing the egg. With -their rostrum, they prepare niches and dig out basins in the receptacle -exploited and consequently they taste the thing a little before -entrusting their eggs to it. On the other hand, the Butterfly, a -nectar-drinker, makes not the least enquiry into the savoury qualities -of the leafage; at most, dipping her proboscis into the flowers, she -abstracts a mouthful of syrup. This means of investigation, moreover, -would be of no use to her, for the plant selected for the establishing -of her family is, for the most part, not yet in flower. The mother -flits for a moment around the plant; and that swift examination is -enough: the emission of eggs takes place if the provender be found -suitable. - -The botanist, to recognize a crucifer, requires the indications -provided by the flower. Here the Pieris surpasses us. She does not -consult the seed-vessel, to see if it be long or short, nor yet the -petals, four in number and arranged in a cross, because the plant, as a -rule, is not in flower; and still she recognizes off-hand what suits -her caterpillars, in spite of profound differences that would embarrass -any but a botanical expert. - -Unless the Pieris has an innate power of discrimination to guide her, -it is impossible to understand the great extent of her vegetable realm. -She needs for her family Cruciferæ, nothing but Cruciferæ; and she -knows this group of plants to perfection. I have been an enthusiastic -botanist for half a century and more. Nevertheless, to discover if this -or that plant, new to me, is or is not one of the Cruciferæ, in the -absence of flowers and fruits I should have more faith in the -Butterfly’s statements than in all the learned records of the books. -Where science is apt to make mistakes, instinct is infallible. - -The Pieris has two families a year: one in April and May, the other in -September. The cabbage-patches are renewed in those same months. The -Butterfly’s calendar tallies with the gardener’s: the moment that -provisions are in sight, consumers are forthcoming for the feast. - -The eggs are a bright orange-yellow and do not lack prettiness when -examined under the lens. They are blunted cones, ranged side by side on -their round base and adorned with finely-scored longitudinal ridges. -They are collected in slabs, sometimes on the upper surface, when the -leaf that serves as a support is spread wide, sometimes on the lower -surface when the leaf is pressed to the next ones. Their number varies -considerably. Slabs of a couple of hundred are pretty frequent; -isolated eggs, or eggs collected in small groups, are, on the contrary, -rare. The mother’s output is affected by the degree of quietness at the -moment of laying. - -The outer circumference of the group is irregularly formed, but the -inside presents a certain order. The eggs are here arranged in straight -rows backing against one another in such a way that each egg finds a -double support in the preceding row. This alternation, without being of -an irreproachable precision, gives a fairly stable equilibrium to the -whole. - -To see the mother at her laying is no easy matter: when examined too -closely, the Pieris decamps at once. The structure of the work, -however, reveals the order of the operations pretty clearly. The -ovipositor swings slowly first in this direction, then in that, by -turns; and a new egg is lodged in each space between two adjoining eggs -in the previous row. The extent of the oscillation determines the -length of the row, which is longer or shorter according to the layer’s -fancy. - -The hatching takes place in about a week. It is almost simultaneous for -the whole mass: as soon as one caterpillar comes out of its egg, the -others come out also, as though the natal impulse were communicated -from one to the other. In the same way, in the nest of the Praying -Mantis, a warning seems to be spread abroad, arousing every one of the -population. It is a wave propagated in all directions from the point -first struck. - -The egg does not open by means of a dehiscence similar to that of the -vegetable-pods whose seeds have attained maturity; it is the new-born -grub itself that contrives an exit-way by gnawing a hole in its -enclosure. In this manner, it obtains near the top of the cone a -symmetrical dormer-window, clean-edged, with no joins nor unevenness of -any kind, showing that this part of the wall has been nibbled away and -swallowed. But for this breach, which is just wide enough for the -deliverance, the egg remains intact, standing firmly on its base. It is -now that the lens is best able to take in its elegant structure. What -it sees is a bag made of ultra-fine goldbeater’s-skin, translucent, -stiff and white, retaining the complete form of the original egg. A -score of streaked and knotted lines run from the top to the base. It is -the wizard’s pointed cap, the mitre with the grooves carved into -jewelled chaplets. All said, the Cabbage-caterpillar’s birth-casket is -an exquisite work of art. - -The hatching of the lot is finished in a couple of hours and the -swarming family musters on the layer of swaddling-clothes, still in the -same position. For a long time, before descending to the fostering -leaf, it lingers on this kind of hot-bed, is even very busy there. Busy -with what? It is browsing a strange kind of grass, the handsome mitres -that remain standing on end. Slowly and methodically, from top to base, -the new-born grubs nibble the wallets whence they have just emerged. By -to-morrow, nothing is left of these but a pattern of round dots, the -bases of the vanished sacks. - -As his first mouthfuls, therefore, the Cabbage-caterpillar eats the -membranous wrapper of his egg. This is a regulation diet, for I have -never seen one of the little grubs allow itself to be tempted by the -adjacent green stuff before finishing the ritual repast whereat skin -bottles furnish forth the feast. It is the first time that I have seen -a larva make a meal of the sack in which it was born. Of what use can -this singular fare be to the budding caterpillar? I suspect as follows: -the leaves of the cabbage are waxed and slippery surfaces and nearly -always slant considerably. To graze on them without risking a fall, -which would be fatal in earliest childhood, is hardly possible unless -with moorings that afford a steady support. What is needed is bits of -silk stretched along the road as fast as progress is made, something -for the legs to grip, something to provide a good anchorage even when -the grub is upside down. The silk-tubes, where those moorings are -manufactured, must be very scantily supplied in a tiny, new-born -animal; and it is expedient that they be filled without delay with the -aid of a special form of nourishment. Then what shall the nature of the -first food be? Vegetable matter, slow to elaborate and niggardly in its -yield, does not fulfil the desired conditions at all well, for time -presses and we must trust ourselves safely to the slippery leaf. An -animal diet would be preferable: it is easier to digest and undergoes -chemical changes in a shorter time. The wrapper of the egg is of a -horny nature, as silk itself is. It will not take long to transform the -one into the other. The grub therefore tackles the remains of its egg -and turns it into silk to carry with it on its first journeys. - -If my surmise is well-founded, there is reason to believe that, with a -view to speedily filling the silk-glands to which they look to supply -them with ropes, other caterpillars beginning their existence on smooth -and steeply-slanting leaves also take as their first mouthful the -membranous sack which is all that remains of the egg. - -The whole of the platform of birth-sacks which was the first -camping-ground of the White Butterfly’s family is razed to the ground; -naught remains but the round marks of the individual pieces that -composed it. The structure of piles has disappeared; the prints left by -the piles remain. The little caterpillars are now on the level of the -leaf which shall henceforth feed them. They are a pale orange-yellow, -with a sprinkling of white bristles. The head is a shiny black and -remarkably powerful; it already gives signs of the coming gluttony. The -little animal measures scarcely two millimetres [47] in length. - -The troop begins its steadying-work as soon as it comes into contact -with its pasturage, the green cabbage-leaf. Here, there, in its -immediate neighbourhood, each grub emits from its spinning-glands short -cables so slender that it takes an attentive lens to catch a glimpse of -them. This is enough to ensure the equilibrium of the almost -imponderable atom. - -The vegetarian meal now begins. The grub’s length promptly increases -from two millimetres to four. Soon, a moult takes place which alters -its costume: its skin becomes speckled, on a pale-yellow ground, with a -number of black dots intermingled with white bristles. Three or four -days of rest are necessary after the fatigue of breaking cover. When -this is over, the hunger-fit starts that will make a ruin of the -cabbage within a few weeks. - -What an appetite! What a stomach, working continuously day and night! -It is a devouring laboratory, through which the foodstuffs merely pass, -transformed at once. I serve up to my caged herd a bunch of leaves -picked from among the biggest: two hours later, nothing remains but the -thick midribs; and even these are attacked when there is any delay in -renewing the victuals. At this rate, a “hundredweight-cabbage,” doled -out leaf by leaf, would not last my menagerie a week. - -The gluttonous animal, therefore, when it swarms and multiplies, is a -scourge. How are we to protect our gardens against it? In the days of -Pliny, the great Latin naturalist, a stake was set up in the middle of -the cabbage-bed to be preserved; and on this stake was fixed a Horse’s -skull bleached in the sun: a Mare’s skull was considered even better. -This sort of bogey was supposed to ward off the devouring brood. - -My confidence in this preservative is but an indifferent one; my reason -for mentioning it is that it reminds me of a custom still observed in -our own days, at least in my part of the country. Nothing is so -long-lived as absurdity. Tradition has retained, in a simplified form, -the ancient defensive apparatus of which Pliny speaks. For the Horse’s -skull our people have substituted an eggshell on the top of a switch -stuck among the cabbages. It is easier to arrange; also, it is quite as -useful, that is to say, it has no effect whatever. - -Everything, even the nonsensical, is capable of explanation with a -little credulity. When I question the peasants, our neighbours, they -tell me that the effect of the eggshell is as simple as can be: the -Butterflies, attracted by the whiteness, come and lay their eggs on it. -Broiled by the sun and lacking all nourishment on that thankless -support, the little caterpillars die; and that makes so many fewer. - -I insist; I ask them if they have ever seen slabs of eggs or masses of -young caterpillars on those white shells. - -“Never,” they reply, with one voice. - -“Well, then?” - -“It was done in the old days and so we go on doing it: that’s all we -know; and that’s enough for us.” - -I leave it at that, persuaded that the memory of the Horse’s skull used -once upon a time is ineradicable, like all the rustic absurdities -implanted by the ages. - -We have, when all is said, but one means of protection, which is to -watch and inspect the cabbage-leaves assiduously and crush the slabs of -eggs between our finger and thumb and the caterpillars with our feet. -Nothing is so effective as this method, which makes great demands on -one’s time and vigilance. What pains to obtain an unspoilt cabbage! And -what a debt do we not owe to those humble scrapers of the soil, those -ragged heroes who provide us with the wherewithal to live! - -To eat and digest, to accumulate reserves whence the Butterfly will -issue: that is the caterpillar’s one and only business. The -Cabbage-caterpillar performs it with insatiable gluttony. Incessantly -it browses, incessantly digests: the supreme felicity of an animal -which is little more than an intestine. There is never a distraction, -unless it be certain see-saw movements which are particularly curious -when several caterpillars are grazing side by side, abreast. Then, at -intervals, all the heads in the row are briskly lifted and as briskly -lowered, time after time, with an automatic precision worthy of a -Prussian drill-ground. Can it be their method of intimidating an always -possible aggressor? Can it be a manifestation of gaiety, when the -wanton sun warms their full paunches? Whether sign of fear or sign of -bliss, this is the only exercise that the gluttons allow themselves -until the proper degree of plumpness is attained. - -After a month’s grazing, the voracious appetite of my caged herd is -assuaged. The caterpillars climb the trelliswork in every direction, -walk about anyhow, with their fore-part raised and searching space. -Here and there, as they pass, the swaying herd put forth a thread. They -wander restlessly, anxiously to travel afar. The exodus now prevented -by the trellised enclosure I once saw under excellent conditions. At -the advent of the cold weather, I had placed a few cabbage-stalks, -covered with caterpillars, in a small greenhouse. Those who saw the -common kitchen vegetable sumptuously lodged under glass, in the company -of the pelargonium and the Chinese primrose, were astonished at my -curious fancy. I let them smile. I had my plans: I wanted to find out -how the family of the Large White Butterfly behaves when the cold -weather sets in. Things happened just as I wished. At the end of -November, the caterpillars, having grown to the desired extent, left -the cabbages, one by one, and began to roam about the walls. None of -them fixed himself there or made preparations for the transformation. I -suspected that they wanted the choice of a spot in the open air, -exposed to all the rigours of winter. I therefore left the door of the -hothouse open. Soon, the whole crowd had disappeared. - -I found them dispersed all over the neighbouring walls, some thirty -yards off. The thrust of a ledge, the eaves formed by a projecting bit -of mortar served them as a shelter where the chrysalid moult took place -and where the winter was passed. The Cabbage-caterpillar possesses a -robust constitution, unsusceptible to torrid heat or icy cold. All that -he needs for his metamorphosis is an airy lodging, free from permanent -damp. - -The inmates of my fold, therefore, move about for a few days on the -trelliswork, anxious to travel afar in search of a wall. Finding none -and realizing that time presses, they resign themselves. Each one, -supporting himself on the trellis, first weaves around himself a thin -carpet of white silk, which will form the sustaining layer at the time -of the laborious and delicate work of the nymphosis. He fixes his -rear-end to this base by a silk pad and his fore-part by a strap that -passes under his shoulders and is fixed on either side to the carpet. -Thus slung from his three fastenings, he strips himself of his larval -apparel and turns into a chrysalis in the open air, with no protection -save that of the wall, which the caterpillar would certainly have found -had I not interfered. - -Of a surety, he would be short-sighted indeed that pictured a world of -good things prepared exclusively for our advantage. The earth, the -great foster-mother, has a generous breast. At the very moment when -nourishing matter is created, even though it be with our own zealous -aid, she summons to the feast host upon host of consumers, who are all -the more numerous and enterprising in proportion as the table is more -amply spread. The cherry of our orchards is excellent eating: a maggot -contends with us for its possession. In vain do we weigh suns and -planets: our supremacy, which fathoms the universe, cannot prevent a -wretched worm from levying its toll on the delicious fruit. We make -ourselves at home in a cabbage-bed: the sons of the Pieris make -themselves at home there too. Preferring broccoli to wild radish, they -profit where we have profited; and we have no remedy against their -competition save caterpillar-raids and egg-crushing, a thankless, -tedious and none too efficacious work. - -Every creature has its claims on life. The Cabbage-caterpillar eagerly -puts forth his own, so much so that the cultivation of the precious -plant would be endangered if others concerned did not take part in its -defence. These others are the auxiliaries, [48] our helpers from -necessity and not from sympathy. The words friend and foe, auxiliaries -and ravagers are here the mere conventions of a language not always -adapted to render the exact truth. He is our foe who eats or attacks -our crops; our friend is he who feeds upon our foes. Everything is -reduced to a frenzied contest of appetites. - -In the name of the might that is mine, of trickery, of highway robbery, -clear out of that, you, and make room for me: give me your seat at the -banquet! That is the inexorable law in the world of animals and more or -less, alas, in our own world as well! - -Now, among our entomological auxiliaries, the smallest in size are the -best at their work. One of them is charged with watching over the -cabbages. She is so small, she works so discreetly that the gardener -does not know her, has not even heard of her. Were he to see her by -accident, flitting around the plant which she protects, he would take -no notice of her, would not suspect the service rendered. I propose to -set forth the tiny midget’s deserts. - -Scientists call her Microgaster glomeratus. What exactly was in the -mind of the author of the name Microgaster, which means little belly? -Did he intend to allude to the insignificance of the abdomen? Not so. -However slight the belly may be, the insect nevertheless possesses one, -correctly proportioned to the rest of the body, so that the classic -denomination, far from giving us any information, might mislead us, -were we to trust it wholly. Nomenclature, which changes from day to day -and becomes more and more cacophonous, is an unsafe guide. Instead of -asking the animal what its name is, let us begin by asking: - -“What can you do? What is your business?” - -Well, the Microgaster’s business is to exploit the Cabbage-caterpillar, -a clearly-defined business, admitting of no possible confusion. Would -we behold her works? In the spring, let us inspect the neighbourhood of -the kitchen-garden. Be our eye never so unobservant, we shall notice -against the walls or on the withered grasses at the foot of the hedges -some very small yellow cocoons, heaped into masses the size of a -hazel-nut. Beside each group lies a Cabbage-caterpillar, sometimes -dying, sometimes dead and always presenting a most tattered appearance. -These cocoons are the work of the Microgaster’s family, hatched or on -the point of hatching into the perfect stage; the caterpillar is the -dish whereon that family has fed during its larval state. The epithet -glomeratus, which accompanies the name of Microgaster, suggests this -conglomeration of cocoons. Let us collect the clusters as they are, -without seeking to separate them, an operation which would demand both -patience and dexterity, for the cocoons are closely united by the -inextricable tangle of their surface-threads. In May, a swarm of -pigmies will sally forth, ready to get to business in the cabbages. - -Colloquial language uses the terms Midge and Gnat to describe the tiny -insects which we often see dancing in a ray of sunlight. There is -something of everything in those aerial ballets. It is possible that -the persecutrix of the Cabbage-caterpillar is there, along with many -another; but the name of Midge cannot properly be applied to her. He -who says Midge says Fly, Dipteron, two-winged insect; and our friend -has four wings, one and all adapted for flying. By virtue of this -characteristic and others no less important, she belongs to the order -of Hymenoptera. [49] No matter: as our language possesses no more -precise term outside the scientific vocabulary, let us use the -expression Midge, which pretty well conveys the general idea. Our -Midge, the Microgaster, is the size of an average Gnat. She measures 3 -or 4 millimetres. [50] The two sexes are equally numerous and wear the -same costume, a black uniform, all but the legs, which are pale red. In -spite of this likeness, they are easily distinguished. The male has an -abdomen which is slightly flattened and moreover curved at the tip; the -female, before the laying, has hers full and perceptibly distended by -its ovular contents. This rapid sketch of the insect should be enough -for our purpose. - -If we wish to know the grub and especially to inform ourselves of its -manner of living, it is advisable to rear in a cage a numerous herd of -Cabbage-caterpillars. Whereas a direct search on the cabbages in our -garden would give us but a difficult and uncertain harvest, by this -means we shall daily have as many as we wish before our eyes. - -In the course of June, which is the time when the caterpillars quit -their pastures and go far afield to settle on some wall or other, those -in my fold, finding nothing better, climb to the dome of the cage to -make their preparations and to spin a supporting network for the -chrysalid’s needs. Among these spinners we see some weaklings working -listlessly at their carpet. Their appearance makes us deem them in the -grip of a mortal disease. I take a few of them and open their bellies, -using a needle by way of a scalpel. What comes out is a bunch of green -entrails, soaked in a bright yellow fluid, which is really the -creature’s blood. These tangled intestines swarm with little, lazy -grubs, varying greatly in number, from ten or twenty at least to -sometimes half-a-hundred. They are the offspring of the Microgaster. - -What do they feed on? The lens makes conscientious enquiries; nowhere -does it manage to show me the vermin attacking solid nourishment, fatty -tissues, muscles or other parts; nowhere do I see them bite, gnaw or -dissect. The following experiment will tell us more fully: I pour into -a watch-glass the crowds extracted from the hospitable paunches. I -flood them with caterpillar’s blood obtained by simple pricks; I place -the preparation under a glass bell-jar, in a moist atmosphere, to -prevent evaporation; I repeat the nourishing bath by means of fresh -bleedings and give them the stimulant which they would have gained from -the living caterpillar. Thanks to these precautions, my charges have -all the appearance of excellent health; they drink and thrive. But this -state of things cannot last long. Soon ripe for the transformation, my -grubs leave the dining-room of the watch-glass as they would have left -the caterpillar’s belly; they come to the ground to try and weave their -tiny cocoons. They fail in the attempt and perish. They have missed a -suitable support, that is to say, the silky carpet provided by the -dying caterpillar. No matter: I have seen enough to convince me. The -larvae of the Microgaster do not eat in the strict sense of the word: -they live on soup; and that soup is the caterpillar’s blood. - -Examine the parasites closely and you shall see that their diet is -bound to be a liquid one. They are little white grubs, neatly -segmented, with a pointed fore-part splashed with tiny black marks, as -though the atom had been slaking its thirst in a drop of ink. It moves -its hind-quarters slowly, without shifting its position. I place it -under the microscope. The mouth is a pore, devoid of any apparatus for -disintegration-work: it has no fangs, no horny nippers, no mandibles; -its attack is just a kiss. It does not chew, it sucks, it takes -discreet sips at the moisture all around it. - -The fact that it refrains entirely from biting is confirmed by my -autopsy of the stricken caterpillars. In the patient’s belly, -notwithstanding the number of nurselings who hardly leave room for the -nurse’s entrails, everything is in perfect order; nowhere do we see a -trace of mutilation. Nor does aught on the outside betray any havoc -within. The exploited caterpillars graze and move about peacefully, -giving no sign of pain. It is impossible for me to distinguish them -from the unscathed ones in respect of appetite and untroubled -digestion. - -When the time approaches to weave the carpet for the support of the -chrysalis, an appearance of emaciation at last points to the evil that -is at their vitals. They spin nevertheless. They are stoics who do not -forget their duty in the hour of death. At last, they expire, quite -softly, not of any wounds, but of anæmia, even as a lamp goes out when -the oil comes to an end. And it has to be. The living caterpillar, -capable of feeding itself and forming blood, is a necessity for the -welfare of the grubs; it has to last about a month, until the -Microgaster’s offspring have achieved their full growth. The two -calendars synchronize in a remarkable way. When the caterpillar leaves -off eating and makes its preparations for the metamorphosis, the -parasites are ripe for the exodus. The bottle dries up when the -drinkers cease to need it; but until that moment it must remain more or -less well-filled, although becoming limper daily. It is important, -therefore, that the caterpillar’s existence be not endangered by wounds -which, even though very tiny, would stop the working of the -blood-fountains. With this intent, the drainers of the bottle are, in a -manner of speaking, muzzled; they have by way of a mouth a pore that -sucks without bruising. - -The dying caterpillar continues to lay the silk of his carpet with a -slow oscillation of the head. The moment now comes for the parasites to -emerge. This happens in June and generally at nightfall. A breach is -made on the ventral surface or else in the sides, never on the back: -one breach only, contrived at a point of minor resistance, at the -junction of two segments; for it is bound to be a toilsome business, in -the absence of a set of filing-tools. Perhaps the worms take one -another’s places at the point attacked and come by turns to work at it -with a kiss. - -In one short spell, the whole tribe issues through this single opening -and is soon wriggling about, perched on the surface of the caterpillar. -The lens cannot perceive the hole, which closes on the instant. There -is not even a hæmorrhage: the bottle has been drained too thoroughly. -You must press it between your fingers to squeeze out a few drops of -moisture and thus discover the spot of exit. - -Around the caterpillar, who is not always quite dead and who sometimes -even goes on weaving his carpet a moment longer, the vermin at once -begin to work at their cocoons. The straw-coloured thread, drawn from -the silk-glands by a backward jerk of the head, is first fixed to the -white network of the caterpillar and then produces adjacent warp-beams, -so that, by mutual entanglements, the individual works are welded -together and form an agglomeration in which each of the worms has its -own cabin. For the moment, what is woven is not the real cocoon, but a -general scaffolding which will facilitate the construction of the -separate shells. All these frames rest upon those adjoining and, mixing -up their threads, become a common edifice wherein each grub contrives a -shelter for itself. Here at last the real cocoon is spun, a pretty -little piece of closely-woven work. - -In my rearing-jars, I obtain as many groups of those tiny shells as my -future experiments can wish for. Three-fourths of the caterpillars have -supplied me with them, so ruthless has been the toll of the spring -births. I lodge these groups, one by one, in separate glass tubes, thus -forming a collection on which I can draw at will, while, in view of my -experiments, I keep under observation the whole swarm produced by one -caterpillar. - -The adult Microgaster appears a fortnight later, in the middle of June. -There are fifty in the first tube examined. The riotous multitude is in -the full enjoyment of the pairing-season, for the two sexes always -figure among the guests of any one caterpillar. What animation! What an -orgy of love! The carnival of those pigmies bewilders the observer and -makes his head swim. - -Most of the females, wishful of liberty, plunge down to the waist -between the glass of the tube and the plug of cotton-wool that closes -the end turned to the light; but the lower halves remain free and form -a circular gallery in front of which the males hustle one another, take -one another’s places and hastily operate. Each bides his turn, each -attends to his little matters for a few moments and then makes way for -his rivals and goes off to start again elsewhere. The turbulent wedding -lasts all the morning and begins afresh next day, a mighty throng of -couples embracing, separating and embracing once more. - -There is every reason to believe that, in gardens, the mated ones, -finding themselves in isolated couples, would keep quieter. Here, in -the tube, things degenerate into a riot because the assembly is too -numerous for the narrow space. - -What is lacking to complete its happiness? Apparently, a little food, a -few sugary mouthfuls extracted from the flowers. I serve up some -provisions in the tubes: not drops of honey, in which the puny -creatures would get stuck, but little strips of paper spread with that -dainty. They come to them, take their stand on them and refresh -themselves. The fare appears to agree with them. With this diet, -renewed as the strips dry up, I can keep them in very good condition -until the end of my inquisition. - -There is another arrangement to be made. The colonists in my spare -tubes are restless and quick of flight; they will have to be -transferred presently to sundry vessels without my risking the loss of -a good number, or even the whole lot, a loss which my hands, my forceps -and other means of coercion would be unable to prevent by checking the -nimble movements of the tiny prisoners. The irresistible attraction of -the sunlight comes to my aid. If I lay one of my tubes horizontally on -the table, turning one end towards the full light of a sunny window, -the captives at once make for this brighter end and play about there -for a long while, without seeking to retreat. If I turn the tube in the -opposite direction, the crowd immediately shifts its quarters and -collects at the other end. The brilliant sunlight is its great joy. -With this bait, I can send it whithersoever I please. - -We will therefore place the new receptacle, jar or test-tube, on the -table, pointing the closed end towards the window. At its mouth, we -open one of the full tubes. No other precaution is needed: even though -the mouth leaves a large interval free, the swarm hastens into the -lighted chamber. All that remains to be done is to close the apparatus -before moving it. The observer is now in control of the multitude, -without appreciable losses, and is able to question it at will. - -We will begin by asking: - -“How do you manage to lodge your germs inside the caterpillar?” - -This question and others of the same category, which ought to take -precedence of everything else, are generally neglected by the impaler -of insects, who cares more for the niceties of nomenclature than for -glorious realities. He classifies his subjects, dividing them into -regiments with barbarous labels, a work which seems to him the highest -expression of entomological science. Names, nothing but names: the rest -hardly counts. The persecutor of the Pieris used to be called -Microgaster, that is to say, little belly: to-day she is called -Apantales, that is to say, the incomplete. What a fine step forward! We -now know all about it! - -Can our friend at least tell us how “the little belly” or “the -incomplete” gets into the caterpillar? Not a bit of it! A book which, -judging by its recent date, should be the faithful echo of our actual -knowledge, informs us that the Microgaster inserts her eggs direct into -the caterpillar’s body. It goes on to say that the parasitic vermin -inhabit the chrysalis, whence they make their way out by perforating -the stout horny wrapper. Hundreds of times have I witnessed the exodus -of the grubs ripe for weaving their cocoons; and the exit has always -been made through the skin of the caterpillar and never through the -armour of the chrysalis. The fact that its mouth is a mere clinging -pore, deprived of any offensive weapon, would even lead me to believe -that the grub is incapable of perforating the chrysalid’s covering. - -This proved error makes me doubt the other proposition, though logical, -after all, and agreeing with the methods followed by a host of -parasites. No matter: my faith in what I read in print is of the -slightest; I prefer to go straight to facts. Before making a statement -of any kind, I want to see, what I call seeing. It is a slower and more -laborious process; but it is certainly much safer. - -I will not undertake to lie in wait for what takes place on the -cabbages in the garden: that method is too uncertain and besides does -not lend itself to precise observation. As I have in hand the necessary -materials, to wit, my collection of tubes swarming with the parasites -newly hatched into the adult form, I will operate on the little table -in my animals’ laboratory. A jar with a capacity of about a litre [51] -is placed on the table, with the bottom turned towards the window in -the sun. I put into it a cabbage-leaf covered with caterpillars, -sometimes fully developed, sometimes half-way, sometimes just out of -the egg. A strip of honeyed paper will serve the Microgaster as a -dining-room, if the experiment is destined to take some time. Lastly, -by the method of transfer which I described above, I send the inmates -of one of my tubes into the apparatus. Once the jar is closed, there is -nothing left to do but to let things take their course and to keep an -assiduous watch, for days and weeks, if need be. Nothing worth -remarking can escape me. - -The caterpillars graze placidly, heedless of their terrible attendants. -If some giddy-pates in the turbulent swarm pass over the caterpillars’ -spines, these draw up their fore-part with a jerk and as suddenly lower -it again; and that is all: the intruders forthwith decamp. Nor do the -latter seem to contemplate any harm: they refresh themselves on the -honey-smeared strip, they come and go tumultuously. Their short flights -may land them, now in one place, now in another, on the browsing herd, -but they pay no attention to it. What we see is casual meetings, not -deliberate encounters. - -In vain I change the flock of caterpillars and vary their age; in vain -I change the squad of parasites: in vain I follow events in the jar for -long hours, morning and evening, both in a dim light and in the full -glare of the sun: I succeed in seeing nothing, absolutely nothing, on -the parasite’s side, that resembles an attack. No matter what the -ill-informed authors say—ill-informed because they had not the patience -to see for themselves—the conclusion at which I arrive is positive: to -inject the germs, the Microgaster never attacks the caterpillars. - -The invasion, therefore, is necessarily effected through the -Butterfly’s eggs themselves, as experiment will prove. My broad jar -would tell against the inspection of the troop, kept at too great a -distance by the glass enclosure; and I therefore select a tube an inch -wide. I place in this a shred of cabbage-leaf, bearing a slab of eggs, -as laid by the Butterfly. I next introduce the inmates of one of my -spare vessels. A strip of paper smeared with honey accompanies the new -arrivals. - -This happens early in July. Soon, the females are there, fussing about, -sometimes to the extent of blackening the whole slab of yellow eggs. -They inspect the treasure, flutter their wings and brush their -hind-legs against each other, a sign of keen satisfaction. They sound -the heap, probe the interstices with their antennae and tap the -individual eggs with their palpi; then, this one here, that one there, -they quickly apply the tip of their abdomen to the egg selected. Each -time, we see a slender, horny prickle darting from the ventral surface, -close to the end. This is the instrument that deposits the germ under -the film of the egg; it is the inoculation-needle. The operation is -performed calmly and methodically, even when several mothers are -working at one and the same time. Where one has been, a second goes, -followed by a third, a fourth and others yet, nor am I able definitely -to see the end of the visits paid to the same egg. Each time, the -needle enters and inserts a germ. - -It is impossible, in such a crowd, for the eye to follow the successive -mothers who hasten to lay in each; but there is one quite practicable -method by which we can estimate the number of germs introduced into a -single egg, which is, later, to open the ravaged caterpillars and count -the worms which they contain. A less repugnant means is to number the -little cocoons heaped up around each dead caterpillar. The total will -tell us how many germs were injected, some by the same mother returning -several times to the egg already treated, others by different mothers. -Well, the number of these cocoons varies greatly. Generally, it -fluctuates in the neighbourhood of twenty, but I have come across as -many as sixty-five; and nothing tells me that this is the extreme -limit. What hideous industry for the extermination of a Butterfly’s -progeny! - -I am fortunate at this moment in having a highly-cultured visitor, -versed in the profundities of philosophic thought. I make way for him -before the apparatus wherein the Microgaster is at work. For an hour -and more, standing lens in hand, he, in his turn, looks and sees what I -have just seen; he watches the layers who go from one egg to the other, -make their choice, draw their slender lancet and prick what the stream -of passers-by, one after the other, have already pricked. Thoughtful -and a little uneasy, he puts down his lens at last. Never had he been -vouchsafed so clear a glimpse as here, in my finger-wide tube, of the -masterly brigandage that runs through all life down to that of the very -smallest. - - - - - - - - -NOTES - - -[1] René Antoine Ferchault de Réaumur (1683–1757), inventor of the -Réaumur thermometer and author of Mémoires pour servir à l’histoire -naturelle des insectes.—Translator’s Note. - -[2] For the Cicada or Cigale, an insect remotely akin to the -Grasshopper and found more particularly in the south of France, cf. -Social Life in the Insect World, by J. H. Fabre, translated by Bernard -Miall: chaps. i to iv.—Translator’s Note. - -[3] The harmas was the enclosed piece of waste ground in which the -author used to study his insects in their natural state.—Translator’s -Note. - -[4] The eponymous hero of Voltaire’s story of “the little great man,” -published in 1752 in imitation of Gulliver’s Travels.—Translator’s -Note. - -[5] .039 inch.—Translator’s Note. - -[6] About three-quarters of an inch.—Translator’s Note. - -[7] .117 to .156 inch.—Translator’s Note. - -[8] In the course of an essay on aberration of instinct in a certain -Mason-wasp which is not yet translated into English.—Translator’s Note. - -[9] A predatory insect, akin to the Locusts and Crickets, which, when -at rest, adopts an attitude resembling that of prayer. Cf. Social Life -in the Insect World: chaps. v to vii.—Translator’s Note. - -[10] The order of insects embracing the Bees, Wasps, Ants, Saw-flies, -Ichneumon-flies, etc.—Translator’s Note. - -[11] Cf. The Mason-bees, by J. Henri Fabre, translated by Alexander -Teixeira de Mattos, passim.—Translator’s Note. - -[12] White Ants.—Translator’s Note. - -[13] Book IV., chap. viii.—Translator’s Note. - -[14] Jean Buridan (circa 1300–circa 1360), a famous scholastic doctor, -who was several times rector of the university of Paris and -subsequently founded the university of Vienna. He forms the subject of -many legends, including that of the argument known by his name, of -which no trace is to be found in any of his works.—Translator’s Note. - -[15] 3½ inches.—Translator’s Note. - -[16] 3½ inches.—Translator’s Note. - -[17] 4 feet 5 inches.—Translator’s Note. - -[18] A large carnivorous Beetle.—Translator’s Note. - -[19] The highest mountain in the neighbourhood of Sérignan. Cf. The -Hunting Wasps, by J. Henri Fabre, translated by Alexander Teixeira de -Mattos: chap. xi.—Translator’s Note. - -[20] Geotrupes stercorarius, a large Dung-beetle. Cf. The Life and Love -of the Insect, by J. Henri Fabre, translated by Alexander Teixeira de -Mattos: chap. ix.—Translator’s Note. - -[21] .975 by .351 inch.—Translator’s Note. - -[22] Cf. The Hunting Wasps: chaps. xiv to xvii.—Translator’s Note. - -[23] A Bacon-beetle.—Translator’s Note. - -[24] A species of Grasshopper.—Translator’s Note. - -[25] Psyche unicolor, Hufn.; P. graminella, Schiffermüller.—Author’s -Note. - -[26] As far as can be judged from the case only, Psyche febretta, Boyer -de Fonscolombe.—Author’s Note. - -[27] Fumea comitella and F. intermediella, Bruand.—Author’s Note. - -[28] A fictitious character, a sort of dolt, created by some wit in a -French regiment quartered in Brabant about the year 1792. Cadet -Roussel’s entertaining exploits were perpetuated in a contemporary -ballad.—Translator’s Note. - -[29] Cf. Chapter XI. of the present volume.—Translator’s Note. - -[30] For other instances of what Fabre calls “the insect’s mental -incapacity in the presence of the accidental” I would refer the reader -to one essay inter alia, entitled, Some Reflections upon Insect -Psychology, which forms chap. vii. of The Mason-bees.—Translator’s -Note. - -[31] Thursday is the weekly holiday in French schools.—Translator’s -Note. - -[32] The Abbé Lazaro Spallanzani (1729–99), an early experimenter in -natural history and author of a number of important works on the -circulation of the blood, on digestion, on generation and on -microscopic animals. Cf. The Hunting Wasps: chap. xix.—Translator’s -Note. - -[33] Cf. The Mason-Bees, passim.—Translator’s Note. - -[34] Rabasso is the Provençal for truffle. Hence the word rabassier to -denote a truffle-hunter.—Author’s Note. - -[35] For some account of Fabre’s drawings of the fungi of his district, -cf. The Life of the Fly, by J. Henri Fabre, translated by Alexander -Teixeira de Mattos: chap. xvii.—Translator’s Note. - -[36] One of the Dung-beetles. Cf. The Life and Love of the Insect: -chap. v.—Translator’s Note. - -[37] Cf. The Life of the Fly: chap. xviii.—Translator’s Note. - -[38] Cf. The Life and Love of the Insect: chap. ix.—Translator’s Note. - -[39] A Dung-beetle. Cf. The Life and Love of the Insect: chap. -x.—Translator’s Note. - -[40] 7.8 inches.—Translator’s Note. - -[41] Since writing the above lines, I have found him eating one of the -true Tuberaceæ, Tuber Requienii, Tul., the size of a cherry.—Author’s -Note. - -[42] Carrion-beetles proper.—Translator’s Note. - -[43] Bacon-beetles—Translator’s Note. - -[44] Burying-beetles proper.—Translator’s Note. - -[45] A species of small carnivorous Beetles.—Translator’s Note. - -[46] A species of Weevils found on thistle-heads.—Translator’s Note. - -[47] .078 inch.—Translator’s Note. - -[48] The author employs this word to denote the insects that are -helpful, while describing as “ravagers” the insects that are hurtful to -the farmer’s crops.—Translator’s Note. - -[49] This order includes the Ichneumon-flies, of whom the Microgaster -is one.—Translator’s Note. - -[50] .117 to .156 inch.—Translator’s Note. - -[51] About 1¾ pints, or .22 gallon.—Translator’s Note. - - - - - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIFE OF THE CATERPILLAR *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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-} -.rightnote, .pageNum, .lineNum, .pageNum a { -color: #AAAAAA; -} -a.hidden:hover, a.noteRef:hover, a.pseudoNoteRef:hover { -color: red; -} -h1, h2, h3, h4, h5, h6 { -font-weight: normal; -} -table { -margin-left: auto; -margin-right: auto; -} -.tablecaption { -text-align: center; -} -.arab { font-family: Scheherazade, serif; } -.aran { font-family: 'Awami Nastaliq', serif; } -.grek { font-family: 'Charis SIL', serif; } -.hebr { font-family: Shlomo, 'Ezra SIL', serif; } -.syrc { font-family: 'Serto Jerusalem', serif; } -/* CSS rules generated from @rend attributes in TEI file */ -.cover-imagewidth { -width:496px; -} -.xd31e98 { -text-align:center; font-size:large; -} -.xd31e104 { -text-align:center; padding-left:0; -} -.titlepage-imagewidth { -width:472px; -} -.xd31e155 { -text-align:center; -} -@media handheld { -} -/* ]]> */ </style> -</head> -<body> - -<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Life of the Caterpillar, by Jean-Henri Fabre</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Life of the Caterpillar</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Jean-Henri Fabre</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Translator: Alexander Teixeira de Mattos</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: November 17, 2021 [eBook #66762]</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net/ for Project Gutenberg (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)</div> - -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIFE OF THE CATERPILLAR ***</div> -<div class="front"> -<div class="div1 cover"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divBody"> -<p class="first"></p> -<div class="figure cover-imagewidth"><img src="images/frontcover.jpg" alt="Original Front Cover." width="496" height="720"></div><p> -<span class="pageNum" id="pb1">[<a href="#pb1">1</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div1 frenchtitle"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divBody"> -<p class="first xd31e98">THE LIFE OF THE CATERPILLAR -<span class="pageNum" id="pb2">[<a href="#pb2">2</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div1 advertisement"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="main">BOOKS BY J. HENRI FABRE</h2> -<ul class="xd31e104"> -<li><a class="pglink xd31e45" title="Link to Project Gutenberg ebook" href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1887">THE LIFE OF THE SPIDER</a> </li> -<li>THE LIFE OF THE FLY </li> -<li><a class="pglink xd31e45" title="Link to Project Gutenberg ebook" href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/2884">THE MASON-BEES</a> </li> -<li><a class="pglink xd31e45" title="Link to Project Gutenberg ebook" href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/3421">BRAMBLE-BEES AND OTHERS</a> </li> -<li>THE HUNTING WASPS </li> -<li>THE LIFE OF THE CATERPILLAR </li> -</ul> -<p><span class="pageNum" id="pb3">[<a href="#pb3">3</a>]</span></p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div1 titlepage"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divBody"> -<p class="first"></p> -<div class="figure titlepage-imagewidth"><img src="images/titlepage.png" alt="Original Title Page." width="472" height="720"></div><p> -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="titlePage"> -<div class="docTitle"> -<div class="mainTitle">THE LIFE OF THE <br>CATERPILLAR</div> -</div> -<div class="byline">BY <br><span class="docAuthor">J. HENRI FABRE</span> -<br>TRANSLATED BY -<br><span class="docAuthor"><span class="sc">Alexander Teixeira de Mattos</span></span> <br>FELLOW OF THE ZOOLOGICAL SOCIETY OF LONDON </div> -<div class="docImprint">NEW YORK <br>DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY <br><span class="docDate">1916</span> </div> -</div> -<p><span class="pageNum" id="pb4">[<a href="#pb4">4</a>]</span></p> -<div class="div1 copyright"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divBody"> -<p class="first xd31e155">COPYRIGHT, 1916 <br>BY DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY, INC. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb5">[<a href="#pb5">5</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -</div> -<div id="toc" class="div1 contents"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="main">CONTENTS</h2> -<table class="tocList"> -<tr> -<td class="tocDivNum"></td> -<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> -</td> -<td class="tocPageNum">PAGE</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tocDivNum"></td> -<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"><a href="#translator" id="xd31e170">TRANSLATOR’S NOTE</a> -</td> -<td class="tocPageNum">5</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tocDivNum">CHAPTER</td> -<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> -</td> -<td class="tocPageNum"></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tocDivNum">I</td> -<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <a href="#ch1" id="xd31e184">THE PINE PROCESSIONARY: LAYING THE EGGS</a> </td> -<td class="tocPageNum">9</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tocDivNum">II</td> -<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <a href="#ch2" id="xd31e194">THE PINE PROCESSIONARY: THE NEST; THE COMMUNITY</a> </td> -<td class="tocPageNum">27</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tocDivNum">III</td> -<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <a href="#ch3" id="xd31e204">THE PINE PROCESSIONARY: THE PROCESSION</a> </td> -<td class="tocPageNum">56</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tocDivNum">IV</td> -<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <a href="#ch4" id="xd31e214">THE PINE PROCESSIONARY: METEOROLOGY</a> </td> -<td class="tocPageNum">90</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tocDivNum">V</td> -<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <a href="#ch5" id="xd31e224">THE PINE PROCESSIONARY: THE MOTH</a> </td> -<td class="tocPageNum">111</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tocDivNum">VI</td> -<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <a href="#ch6" id="xd31e234">THE PINE PROCESSIONARY: THE STINGING POWER</a> </td> -<td class="tocPageNum">128</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tocDivNum">VII</td> -<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <a href="#ch7" id="xd31e244">THE ARBUTUS CATERPILLAR</a> </td> -<td class="tocPageNum">150</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tocDivNum">VIII</td> -<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <a href="#ch8" id="xd31e254">AN INSECT VIRUS</a> </td> -<td class="tocPageNum">161</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tocDivNum">IX</td> -<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <a href="#ch9" id="xd31e265">THE PSYCHES: THE LAYING</a> </td> -<td class="tocPageNum">186</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tocDivNum">X</td> -<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <a href="#ch10" id="xd31e275">THE PSYCHES: THE CASES</a> </td> -<td class="tocPageNum">217</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tocDivNum">XI</td> -<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <a href="#ch11" id="xd31e285">THE GREAT PEACOCK</a> <span class="pageNum" id="pb6">[<a href="#pb6">6</a>]</span> </td> -<td class="tocPageNum">246</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tocDivNum">XII</td> -<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <a href="#ch12" id="xd31e297">THE BANDED MONK</a> </td> -<td class="tocPageNum">279</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tocDivNum">XIII</td> -<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <a href="#ch13" id="xd31e307">THE SENSE OF SMELL</a> </td> -<td class="tocPageNum">300</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tocDivNum">XIV</td> -<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"> <a href="#ch14" id="xd31e317">THE CABBAGE-CATERPILLAR</a> -</td> -<td class="tocPageNum">331</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tocDivNum"></td> -<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="7"><a href="#ix" id="xd31e324">INDEX</a> </td> -<td class="tocPageNum">373</td> -</tr> -</table> -<p><span class="pageNum" id="pb7">[<a href="#pb7">7</a>]</span></p> -</div> -</div> -<div id="translator" class="div1 preface"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e170">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="main">TRANSLATOR’S NOTE</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">This, the sixth volume of the Collected Edition of Fabre’s Entomological Works in -English, is the first that I am preparing for publication since the author’s death, -on the 11th of October, 1915, at an exceedingly advanced age. It contains all the -essays, fourteen in number, which he wrote on Butterflies and Moths, or their caterpillars. -</p> -<p>Three of these, the chapters entitled <i>The Great Peacock</i>, <i>The Banded Monk</i> and <i>The Sense of Smell</i>, are included under the titles of <i>The Great Peacock</i>, <i>The Oak Eggar</i> and <i>A Truffle-hunter: the <span lang="la">Bolboceras Gallicus</span></i> in a volume of miscellaneous extracts from the <i lang="fr">Souvenirs entomologiques</i> translated by Mr. Bernard Miall and published by the Century Company. The volume -in question is named <i>Social Life in the Insect World</i>; and I strongly recommend it to the reader, if only because of the excellent photographs -from nature with which it is illustrated. -</p> -<p>Chapter III. of the present volume, <i>The Pine Processionary: the Procession</i>, has appeared <span class="pageNum" id="pb8">[<a href="#pb8">8</a>]</span>in the <i>Fortnightly Review</i>; and Chapter XIV., <i>The Cabbage Caterpillar</i>, the last essay but one from the author’s pen, written, I believe, within two or -three years of his death, was first printed in the <i>Century Magazine</i>, some time before its publication in the original. It does not form part of the <i lang="fr">Souvenirs entomologiques</i>. The remaining essays are new in their English guise. -</p> -<p>Once more I wish to record my gratitude to Miss Frances Rodwell for the faithful assistance -which she has lent me in the preparation of this volume, as in that of all the earlier -volumes of the series. -</p> -<p class="signed"><span class="sc">Alexander Teixeira de Mattos.</span> -</p> -<p class="dateline"><span class="sc">Chelsea, 1916.</span> -<span class="pageNum" id="pb9">[<a href="#pb9">9</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="body"> -<div id="ch1" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e184">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label">CHAPTER I</h2> -<h2 class="main">THE PINE PROCESSIONARY: THE EGGS AND THE HATCHING</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">This caterpillar has already had his story told by Réaumur,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e391src" href="#xd31e391">1</a> but it was a story marked by gaps. These were inevitable in the conditions under -which the great man worked, for he had to receive all his materials by barge from -the distant Bordeaux Landes. The transplanted insect could not be expected to furnish -its biographer with other than fragmentary evidence, very weak in those biological -details which form the principal charm of entomology. To study the habits of insects -one must observe them long and closely on their native heath, so to speak, in the -place where their instincts have full and natural play. -</p> -<p>With caterpillars foreign to the Paris climate and brought from the other end of France, -Réaumur therefore ran the risk of <span class="pageNum" id="pb10">[<a href="#pb10">10</a>]</span>missing many most interesting facts. This is what actually happened, just as it did -on a later occasion in the case of another alien, the Cicada.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e402src" href="#xd31e402">2</a> Nevertheless, the information which he was able to extract from a few nests sent -to him from the Landes is of the highest value. -</p> -<p>Better served than he by circumstances, I will take up afresh the story of the Processionary -Caterpillar of the Pine. If the subject does not come up to my hopes, it will certainly -not be for lack of materials. In my <i>harmas</i><a class="noteRef" id="xd31e413src" href="#xd31e413">3</a> laboratory, now stocked with a few trees in addition to its bushes, stand some vigorous -fir-trees, the Aleppo pine and the black Austrian pine, a substitute for that of the -Landes. Every year the caterpillar takes possession of them and spins his great purses -in their branches. In the interest of the leaves, which are horribly ravaged, as though -there had been a fire, I am obliged each winter to make <span class="pageNum" id="pb11">[<a href="#pb11">11</a>]</span>a strict survey and to extirpate the nests with a long forked batten. -</p> -<p>You voracious little creatures, if I let you have your way, I should soon be robbed -of the murmur of my once so leafy pines! Today I will seek compensation for all the -trouble I have taken. Let us make a compact. You have a story to tell. Tell it me; -and for a year, for two years or longer, until I know more or less all about it, I -shall leave you undisturbed, even at the cost of lamentable suffering to the pines. -</p> -<p>Having concluded the treaty and left the caterpillars in peace, I soon have abundant -material for my observations. In return for my indulgence I get some thirty nests -within a few steps of my door. If the collection were not large enough, the pine-trees -in the neighbourhood would supply me with any necessary additions. But I have a preference -and a decided preference for the population of my own enclosure, whose nocturnal habits -are much easier to observe by lantern-light. With such treasures daily before my eyes, -at any time that I wish and under natural conditions, I cannot fail to see the Processionary’s -story unfolded at full length. Let us try. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb12">[<a href="#pb12">12</a>]</span></p> -<p>And first of all the egg, which Réaumur did not see. In the first fortnight of August, -let us inspect the lower branches of the pines, on a level with our eyes. If we pay -the least attention, we soon discover, here and there, on the foliage, certain little -whitish cylinders spotting the dark green. These are the Bombyx’ eggs: each cylinder -is the cluster laid by one mother. -</p> -<p>The pine-needles are grouped in twos. Each pair is wrapped at its base in a cylindrical -muff which measures about an inch long by a fifth or sixth of an inch wide. This muff, -which has a silky appearance and is white slightly tinted with russet, is covered -with scales that overlap after the manner of the tiles on a roof; and yet their arrangement, -though fairly regular, is by no means geometrical. The general aspect is more or less -that of an immature walnut-catkin. -</p> -<p>The scales are almost oval in form, semitransparent and white, with a touch of brown -at the base and of russet at the tip. They are free at the lower end, which tapers -slightly, but firmly fixed at the upper end, which is wider and blunter. You cannot -detach them either by blowing on them or by <span class="pageNum" id="pb13">[<a href="#pb13">13</a>]</span>rubbing them repeatedly with a hair-pencil. They stand up, like a fleece stroked the -wrong way, if the sheath is rubbed gently upwards, and retain this bristling position -indefinitely; they resume their original arrangement when the friction is in the opposite -direction. At the same time, they are as soft as velvet to the touch. Carefully laid -one upon the other, they form a roof that protects the eggs. It is impossible for -a drop of rain or dew to penetrate under this shelter of soft tiles. -</p> -<p>The origin of this defensive covering is self-evident: the mother has stripped a part -of her body to protect her eggs. Like the Eider-duck, she has made a warm overcoat -for them out of her own down. Réaumur had already suspected as much from a very curious -peculiarity of the Moth. Let me quote the passage: -</p> -<blockquote> -<p class="first">“The females,” he says, “have a shiny patch on the upper part of their body, near -the hind-quarters. The shape and gloss of this disk attracted my attention the first -time that I saw it. I was holding a pin, with which I touched it, to examine its structure. -The <span class="pageNum" id="pb14">[<a href="#pb14">14</a>]</span>contact of the pin produced a little spectacle that surprised me: I saw a cloud of -tiny spangles at once detach themselves. These spangles scattered in every direction: -some seemed to be shot into the air, others to the sides; but the greater part of -the cloud fell softly to the ground. -</p> -<p>“Each of those bodies which I am calling spangles is an extremely slender lamina, -bearing some resemblance to the atoms of dust on the Moths’ wings, but of course much -bigger.… The disk that is so noticeable on the hind-quarters of these Moths is therefore -a heap—and an enormous heap—of these scales.… The females seem to use them to wrap -their eggs in; but the Moths of the Pine Caterpillar refused to lay while in my charge -and consequently did not enlighten me as to whether they use the scales to cover their -eggs or as to what they are doing with all those scales gathered round their hinder -part, which were not given them and placed in that position to serve no purpose.”</p> -</blockquote><p> -</p> -<p>You were right, my learned master: that dense and regular crop of spangles did not -grow on the Moth’s tail for nothing. Is <span class="pageNum" id="pb15">[<a href="#pb15">15</a>]</span>there anything that has no object? You did not think so; I do not think so either. -Everything has its reason for existing. Yes, you were well-inspired when you foresaw -that the cloud of scales which flew out under the point of your pin must serve to -protect the eggs. -</p> -<p>I remove the scaly fleece with my pincers and, as I expected, the eggs appear, looking -like little white-enamel beads. Clustering closely together, they make nine longitudinal -rows. In one of these rows I count thirty-five eggs. As the nine rows are very nearly -alike, the contents of the cylinder amount in all to about three hundred eggs, a respectable -family for one mother! -</p> -<p>The eggs of one row or file alternate exactly with those in the two adjoining files, -so as to leave no empty spaces. They suggest a piece of bead-work produced with exquisite -dexterity by patient fingers. It would be more correct still to compare them with -a cob of Indian corn, with its neat rows of seeds, but a greatly reduced cob, the -tininess of whose dimensions makes its mathematical precision all the more remarkable. -The grains of the Moth’s spike have a slight tendency to be hexagonal, because of -their mutual <span class="pageNum" id="pb16">[<a href="#pb16">16</a>]</span>pressure; they are stuck close together, so much so that they cannot be separated. -If force is used, the layer comes off the leaf in fragments, in small cakes always -consisting of several eggs apiece. The beads laid are therefore fastened together -by a glutinous varnish; and it is on this varnish that the broad base of the defensive -scales is fixed. -</p> -<p>It would be interesting, if a favourable opportunity occurred, to see how the mother -achieves that beautifully regular arrangement of the eggs and also how, as soon as -she has laid one, all sticky with varnish, she makes a roof for it with a few scales -removed one by one from her hind-quarters. For the moment, the very structure of the -finished work tells us the course of the procedure. It is evident that the eggs are -not laid in longitudinal files, but in circular rows, in rings, which lie one above -the other, alternating their grains. The laying begins at the bottom, near the lower -end of the double pine-leaf; it finishes at the top. The first eggs in order of date -are those of the bottom ring; the last are those of the top ring. The arrangement -of the scales, all in a longitudinal direction and attached by the end facing the -<span class="pageNum" id="pb17">[<a href="#pb17">17</a>]</span>top of the leaf, makes any other method of progression inadmissible. -</p> -<p>Let us consider in the light of reflection the elegant edifice now before our eyes. -Young or old, cultured or ignorant, we shall all, on seeing the Bombyx’ pretty little -spike, exclaim: -</p> -<p>“How handsome!” -</p> -<p>And what will strike us most will be not the beautiful enamel pearls, but the way -in which they are put together with such geometrical regularity. Whence we can draw -a great moral, to wit, that an exquisite order governs the work of a creature without -consciousness, one of the humblest of the humble. A paltry Moth follows the harmonious -laws of order. -</p> -<p>If Micromégas<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e459src" href="#xd31e459">4</a> took it into his head to leave Sirius once more and visit our planet, would he find -anything to admire among us? Voltaire shows him to us using one of the diamonds of -his necklace as a magnifying-glass in order to obtain some sort of view of the three-master -which has run aground on his thumb-nail. He enters into conversation <span class="pageNum" id="pb18">[<a href="#pb18">18</a>]</span>with the crew. A nail-paring, curved like a horn, encompasses the ship and serves -as a speaking-trumpet; a tooth-pick, which touches the vessel with its tapering end -and the lips of the giant, some thousand fathoms above, with the other, serves as -a telephone. The outcome of the famous dialogue is that, if we would form a sound -judgment of things and see them under fresh aspects, there is nothing like changing -one’s planet. -</p> -<p>The probability then is that the Sirian would have had a rather poor notion of our -artistic beauties. To him our masterpieces of statuary, even though sprung from the -chisel of a Phidias, would be mere dolls of marble or bronze, hardly more worthy of -interest than the children’s rubber dolls are to us; our landscape-paintings would -be regarded as dishes of spinach smelling unpleasantly of oil; our opera-scores would -be described as very expensive noises. -</p> -<p>These things, belonging to the domain of the senses, possess a relative æsthetic value, -subordinated to the organism that judges them. Certainly the Venus of Melos and the -Apollo Belvedere are superb works; but even so it takes a special eye to appreciate -them. <span class="pageNum" id="pb19">[<a href="#pb19">19</a>]</span>Micromégas, if he saw them, would be full of pity for the leanness of human forms. -To him the beautiful calls for something other than our sorry, frog-like anatomy. -</p> -<p>Show him, on the other hand, that sort of abortive windmill by means of which Pythagoras, -echoing the wise men of Egypt, teaches us the fundamental properties of the right-angled -triangle. Should the good giant, contrary to our expectation, happen not to know about -it, explain to him what the windmill means. Once the light has entered his mind, he -will find, just as we do, that there is beauty there, real beauty, not certainly in -that horrible hieroglyphic, the figure, but in the unchangeable relation between the -lengths of the three sides; he will admire as much as we do geometry the eternal balancer -of space. -</p> -<p>There is, therefore, a severe beauty, belonging to the domain of reason, the same -in every world, the same under every sun, whether the suns be single or many, white -or red, blue or yellow. This universal beauty is order. Everything is done by weight -and measure, a great statement whose truth breaks upon us all the more vividly as -we probe more deeply into the mystery of things. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb20">[<a href="#pb20">20</a>]</span></p> -<p>Is this order, upon which the equilibrium of the universe is based, the predestined -result of a blind mechanism? Does it enter into the plans of an Eternal Geometer, -as Plato had it? Is it the ideal of a supreme lover of beauty, which would explain -everything? -</p> -<p>Why all this regularity in the curve of the petals of a flower, why all this elegance -in the chasings on a Beetle’s wing-cases? Is that infinite grace, even in the tiniest -details, compatible with the brutality of uncontrolled forces? One might as well attribute -the artist’s exquisite medallion to the steam-hammer which makes the slag sweat in -the melting. -</p> -<p>These are very lofty thoughts concerning a miserable cylinder which will bear a crop -of caterpillars. It cannot be helped. The moment one tries to dig out the least detail -of things, up starts a why which scientific investigation is unable to answer. The -riddle of the world has certainly its explanation otherwhere than in the little truths -of our laboratories. But let us leave Micromégas to philosophize and return to the -commonplaces of observation. -</p> -<p>The Pine Bombyx has rivals in the art of <span class="pageNum" id="pb21">[<a href="#pb21">21</a>]</span>gracefully grouping her egg-beads. Among their number is the Neustrian Bombyx, whose -caterpillar is known by the name of “Livery,” because of his costume. Her eggs are -assembled in bracelets around little branches varying greatly in nature, apple- and -pear-branches chiefly. Any one seeing this elegant work for the first time would be -ready to attribute it to the fingers of a skilled stringer of beads. My small son -Paul opens eyes wide with surprise and utters an astonished “Oh!” each time that he -comes upon the dear little bracelet. The beauty of order forces itself upon his dawning -attention. -</p> -<p>Though not so long and marked above all by the absence of any wrapper, the ring of -the Neustrian Bombyx reminds one of the other’s cylinder, stripped of its scaly covering. -It would be easy to multiply these instances of elegant grouping, contrived now in -one way, now in another, but always with consummate art. It would take up too much -time, however. Let us keep to the Pine Bombyx. -</p> -<p>The hatching takes place in September, a little earlier in one case, a little later -in another. So that I may easily watch the new-born caterpillars in their first labours, -I have <span class="pageNum" id="pb22">[<a href="#pb22">22</a>]</span>placed a few egg-laden branches in the window of my study. They are standing in a -glass of water which will keep them properly fresh for some time. -</p> -<p>The little caterpillars leave the egg in the morning, at about eight o’clock. If I -just lift the scales of the cylinder in process of hatching, I see black heads appear, -which nibble and burst and push back the torn ceilings. The tiny creatures emerge -slowly, some here and some there, all over the surface. -</p> -<p>After the hatching, the scaly cylinder is as regular and as fresh in appearance as -if it were still inhabited. We do not perceive that it is deserted until we raise -the spangles. The eggs, still arranged in regular rows, are now so many yawning goblets -of a slightly translucent white; they lack the cap-shaped lid, which has been rent -and destroyed by the new-born grubs. -</p> -<p>The puny creatures measure a millimetre<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e493src" href="#xd31e493">5</a> at most in length. Devoid as yet of the bright red that will soon be their adornment, -they are pale-yellow, bristling with hairs, some shortish and black, others rather -longer and white. The head, of a glossy black, is big <span class="pageNum" id="pb23">[<a href="#pb23">23</a>]</span>in proportion. Its diameter is twice that of the body. This exaggerated size of the -head implies a corresponding strength of jaw, capable of attacking tough food from -the start. A huge head, stoutly clad in horn, is the predominant feature of the budding -caterpillar. -</p> -<p>These macrocephalous ones are, as we see, well-armed against the hardness of the pine-needles, -so well-armed in fact that the meal begins almost immediately. After roaming for a -few moments at random among the scales of the common cradle, most of the young caterpillars -make for the double leaf that served as an axis for the native cylinder and spread -themselves over it at length. Others go to the adjacent leaves. Here as well as there -they fall to; and the gnawed leaf is hollowed into faint and very narrow grooves, -bounded by the veins, which are left intact. -</p> -<p>From time to time, three or four who have eaten their fill fall into line and walk -in step, but soon separate, each going his own way. This is practice for the coming -processions. If I disturb them ever so little, they sway the front half of their bodies -and wag their <span class="pageNum" id="pb24">[<a href="#pb24">24</a>]</span>heads with a jerky movement similar to the action of an intermittent spring. -</p> -<p>But the sun reaches the corner of the window where the careful rearing is in progress. -Then, sufficiently refreshed, the little family retreats to its native soil, the base -of the double leaf, gathers into an irregular group and begins to spin. Its work is -a gauze globule of extreme delicacy, supported on some of the neighbouring leaves. -Under this tent, a very wide-meshed net, a siesta is taken during the hottest and -brightest part of the day. In the afternoon, when the sun has gone from the window, -the flock leaves its shelter, disperses around, sometimes forming a little procession -within a radius of an inch, and starts browsing again. -</p> -<p>Thus the very moment of hatching proclaims talents which age will develop without -adding to their number. In less than an hour from the bursting of the egg, the caterpillar -is both a processionary and a spinner. He also flees the light when taking refreshment. -We shall soon find him visiting his grazing-grounds only at night. -</p> -<p>The spinner is very feeble, but so active that in twenty-four hours the silken globe -attains <span class="pageNum" id="pb25">[<a href="#pb25">25</a>]</span>the bulk of a hazel-nut and in a couple of weeks that of an apple. Nevertheless, it -is not the nucleus of the great establishment in which the winter is to be spent. -It is a provisional shelter, very light and inexpensive in materials. The mildness -of the season makes anything else unnecessary. The young caterpillars freely gnaw -the logs, the poles between which the threads are stretched, that is to say, the leaves -contained within the silken tent. Their house supplies them at the same time with -board and lodging. This excellent arrangement saves them from having to go out, a -dangerous proceeding at their age. For these puny ones, the hammock is also the larder. -</p> -<p>Nibbled down to their veins, the supporting leaves wither and easily come unfastened -from the branches; and the silken globe becomes a hovel that crumbles with the first -gust of wind. The family then moves on and goes elsewhere to erect a new tent, lasting -no longer than the first. Even so does the Arab move on, as the pastures around his -camel-hide dwelling become exhausted. These temporary establishments are renewed several -times over, always at greater heights than the last, so much so that the tribe, which -was hatched on <span class="pageNum" id="pb26">[<a href="#pb26">26</a>]</span>the lower branches trailing on the ground, gradually reaches the higher boughs and -sometimes the very summit of the pine-tree. -</p> -<p>In a few weeks’ time, a first moult replaces the humble fleece of the start, which -is pale-coloured, shaggy and ugly, by another which lacks neither richness nor elegance. -On the dorsal surface, the various segments, excepting the first three, are adorned -with a mosaic of six little bare patches, of a bright red, which stand out a little -above the dark background of the skin. Two, the largest, are in front, two behind -and one, almost dot-shaped, on either side of the quadrilateral. The whole is surrounded -by a palisade of scarlet bristles, divergent and lying almost flat. The other hairs, -those of the belly and sides, are longer and whitish. -</p> -<p>In the centre of this crimson marquetry stand two clusters of very short bristles, -gathered into flattened tufts which gleam in the sun like specks of gold. The length -of the caterpillar is now about two centimetres<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e518src" href="#xd31e518">6</a> and his width three or four millimetres.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e522src" href="#xd31e522">7</a> Such is the costume of middle age, which, like the earlier one, was unknown to Réaumur. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb27">[<a href="#pb27">27</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e391"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e391src">1</a></span> René Antoine Ferchault de Réaumur (1683–1757), inventor of the Réaumur thermometer -and author of <i lang="fr">Mémoires pour servir à l’histoire naturelle des insectes</i>.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e391src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e402"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e402src">2</a></span> For the Cicada or <i>Cigale</i>, an insect remotely akin to the Grasshopper and found more particularly in the south -of France, cf. <i>Social Life in the Insect World</i>, by J. H. Fabre, translated by Bernard Miall: chaps. i to iv.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e402src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e413"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e413src">3</a></span> The <i>harmas</i> was the enclosed piece of waste ground in which the author used to study his insects -in their natural state.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e413src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e459"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e459src">4</a></span> The eponymous hero of Voltaire’s story of “the little great man,” published in 1752 -in imitation of <i>Gulliver’s Travels</i>.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e459src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e493"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e493src">5</a></span> .039 inch.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e493src" title="Return to note 5 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e518"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e518src">6</a></span> About three-quarters of an inch.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e518src" title="Return to note 6 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e522"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e522src">7</a></span> .117 to .156 inch.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e522src" title="Return to note 7 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch2" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e194">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label">CHAPTER II</h2> -<h2 class="main">THE PINE PROCESSIONARY: THE NEST; THE COMMUNITY</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">November arrives, however, bringing cold weather; the time has come to build the stout -winter tabernacle. High up in the pine the tip of a bough is chosen, with suitably -close-packed and convergent leaves. The spinners surround it with a spreading network, -which bends the adjacent leaves a little nearer and ends by incorporating them into -the fabric. In this way they obtain an enclosure half silk, half leaves, capable of -withstanding the inclemencies of the weather. -</p> -<p>Early in December the work has increased to the size of a man’s two fists or more. -In its ultimate perfection, it attains a volume of nearly half a gallon by the end -of winter. -</p> -<p>It is roughly egg-shaped, tapering to a certain length below and extended into a sheath -which envelops the supporting branch. The origin of this silky extension is as follows: -every evening between seven and nine o’clock, <span class="pageNum" id="pb28">[<a href="#pb28">28</a>]</span>weather permitting, the caterpillars leave the nest and go down the bare part of the -bough which forms the pole of the tent. The road is broad, for this axis is sometimes -as wide as the neck of a claret-bottle. The descent is accomplished without any attempt -at order and always slowly, so much so that the first caterpillars to come out have -not yet dispersed before they are caught up by the others. The branch is thus covered -by a continuous bark of caterpillars, made up of the whole community, which gradually -divides into squads and disperses to this side and that on the nearest branches to -crop their leaves. Now not one of the caterpillars moves a step without working his -spinneret. Therefore the broad downward path, which on the way back will be the ascending -path, is covered, as the result of constant traffic, with a multitude of threads forming -an unbroken sheath. -</p> -<p>It is obvious that this sheath, in which each caterpillar, passing backwards and forwards -on his nocturnal rambles, leaves a double thread, is not an indicator laid down with -the sole object of simplifying the journey back to the nest: a mere ribbon would be -enough for that. Its use might well be to strengthen the <span class="pageNum" id="pb29">[<a href="#pb29">29</a>]</span>edifice, to give it deeper foundations and to join it by a multitude of cables to -the steady branch. -</p> -<p>The whole thing thus consists, above, of the home distended into an ovoid and, below, -of the stalk, the sheath surrounding the support and adding its resistance to that -of the numerous other fastenings. -</p> -<p>Each nest that has not yet had its shape altered by the prolonged residence of the -caterpillars shows in the centre a bulky, milk-white shell, with around it a wrapper -of diaphanous gauze. The central mass, formed of thickly-woven threads, has for a -wall a thick quilt into which are absorbed, as supports, numbers of leaves, green -and intact. The thickness of this wall may be anything up to three-quarters of an -inch. -</p> -<p>At the top of the dome are round openings, varying greatly in number and distribution, -as wide across as an ordinary lead-pencil. These are the doors of the house, through -which the caterpillars go in and out. All around the shell are projecting leaves, -which the insects’ teeth have respected. From the tip of each leaf there radiate, -in graceful, undulating curves, threads which, loosely interlaced, form <span class="pageNum" id="pb30">[<a href="#pb30">30</a>]</span>a light tent, a spacious verandah of careful workmanship, especially in the upper -part. Here we find a broad terrace on which, in the daytime, the caterpillars come -and doze in the sun, heaped one upon the other, with rounded backs. The network stretching -overhead does duty as an awning: it moderates the heat of the sun’s rays; it also -saves the sleepers from a fall when the bough rocks in the wind. -</p> -<p>Let us take our scissors and rip open the nest from end to end longitudinally. A wide -window opens and allows us to see the arrangement of the inside. The first thing to -strike us is that the leaves contained in the enclosure are intact and quite sound. -The young caterpillars in their temporary establishments gnaw the leaves within the -silken wrapper to death; they thus have their larder stocked for a few days without -having to quit their shelter in bad weather, a condition made necessary by their weakness. -When they grow stronger and start working on their winter home, they are very careful -not to touch the leaves. Why these new scruples? -</p> -<p>The reason is evident. If bruised, those leaves, the framework of the house, would -<span class="pageNum" id="pb31">[<a href="#pb31">31</a>]</span>very soon wither and then be blown off with the first breath of wind. The silken purse, -torn from its base, would collapse. On the other hand, if the leaves are respected, -they remain vigorous and furnish a stout support against the assaults of winter. A -solid fastening is superfluous for the summer tent, which lasts but a day; it is indispensable -to the permanent shelter which will have to bear the burden of heavy snows and the -buffeting of icy winds. Fully alive to these perils, the spinner of the pine-tree -considers himself bound, however importunate his hunger, not to saw through the rafters -of his house. -</p> -<p>Inside the nest, therefore, opened by my scissors I see a thick arcade of green leaves, -more or less closely wrapped in a silky sheath whence dangle shreds of cast skin and -strings of dried droppings. In short, this interior is an extremely unpleasant place, -a rag-shop and a sewage-farm in one, and corresponds in no way with the imposing exterior. -All around is a solid wall of quilting and of closely-woven leaves. There are no chambers, -no compartments marked off by partition-walls. It is a single room, turned into a -<span class="pageNum" id="pb32">[<a href="#pb32">32</a>]</span>labyrinth by the colonnade of green leaves placed in rows one above the other throughout -the oval hall. Here the caterpillars stay when resting, gathered on the columns, heaped -in confused masses. -</p> -<p>When we remove the hopeless tangle at the top, we see the light filtering in at certain -points of the roof. These luminous points correspond with the openings that communicate -with the outer air. The network that forms a wrapper to the nest has no special exits. -To pass through it in either direction, the caterpillars have only to push the sparse -threads aside slightly. The inner wall, a compact rampart, has its doors; the flimsy -outer veil has none. -</p> -<p>It is in the morning, at about ten o’clock, that the caterpillars leave their night-apartment -and come to take the sun on their terrace, under the awning which the points of the -leaves hold up at a distance. They spend the whole day there dozing. Motionless, heaped -together, they steep themselves deliciously in warmth and from time to time betray -their bliss by nodding and wagging their heads. At six or seven o’clock, when it grows -dark, the sleepers awake, bestir themselves, <span class="pageNum" id="pb33">[<a href="#pb33">33</a>]</span>separate and go their several ways over the surface of the nest. -</p> -<p>We now behold an indeed delightful spectacle. Bright-red stripes meander in every -direction over the white sheet of silk. One goes up, another comes down, a third moves -aslant; others form a short procession. And, as they solemnly walk about in a splendid -disorder, each glues to the ground which it covers the thread that constantly hangs -from its lip. -</p> -<p>Thus is the thickness of the shelter increased by a fine layer added immediately above -the previous structure; thus is the dwelling strengthened by fresh supports. The adjoining -green leaves are taken into the network and absorbed in the building. If the tiniest -bit of them remains free, curves radiate from that point, increasing the size of the -veil and fastening it at a greater distance. Every evening, therefore, for an hour -or two, great animation reigns on the surface of the nest, if the weather permits; -and the work of consolidating and thickening the structure is carried on with indefatigable -zeal. -</p> -<p>Do they foresee the future, these wary ones who take such precautions against the -rigours of winter? Obviously not. Their few <span class="pageNum" id="pb34">[<a href="#pb34">34</a>]</span>months’ experience—if indeed experience can be mentioned in connection with a caterpillar—tells -them of savoury bellyfuls of green stuff, of gentle slumbers in the sun on the terrace -of the nest; but nothing hitherto has made them acquainted with cold, steady rain, -with frost, snow and furious blasts of wind. And these creatures, knowing naught of -winter’s woes, take the same precautions as if they were thoroughly aware of all that -the inclement season holds in store for them. They work away at their house with an -ardour that seems to say: -</p> -<p>“Oh, how nice and warm we shall be in our beds here, nestling one against the other, -when the pine-tree swings aloft its frosted candelabra! Let us work with a will! <i lang="la">Laboremus!</i>” -</p> -<p>Yes, caterpillars, my friends, let us work with a will, great and small, men and grubs -alike, so that we may fall asleep peacefully; you with the torpor that makes way for -your transformation into Moths, we with that last sleep which breaks off life only -to renew it. <i lang="la">Laboremus!</i> -</p> -<p>Anxious to watch my caterpillars’ habits in detail, without having to sally forth -by lantern-light, <span class="pageNum" id="pb35">[<a href="#pb35">35</a>]</span>often in bad weather, to see what happens in the pine-trees at the end of the enclosure, -I have installed half-a-dozen nests in a greenhouse, a modest, glazed shelter which, -though hardly any warmer than the air outside, at least affords protection from the -wind and rain. Fixed in the sand, at a height of about eighteen inches, by the base -of the bough that serves as both an axis and a framework, each nest receives for rations -a bundle of little pine-branches, which are renewed as soon as they are consumed. -I take my lantern every evening and pay my boarders a visit. This is the way in which -most of my facts are obtained. -</p> -<p>After the day’s work comes the evening meal. The caterpillars descend from the nest, -adding a few more threads to the silvery sheath of the support, and reach the posy -of fresh green stuff which is lying quite near. It is a magnificent sight to see the -red-coated band lined up in twos and threes on each needle and in ranks so closely -formed that the green sprigs of the bunch bend under the load. -</p> -<p>The diners, all motionless, all poking their heads forward, nibble in silence, placidly. -Their broad black foreheads gleam in the <span class="pageNum" id="pb36">[<a href="#pb36">36</a>]</span>rays of the lantern. A shower of granules drops on the sand below. These are the residues -of easy-going stomachs, only too ready to digest their food. By to-morrow morning -the soil will have disappeared under a greenish layer of this intestinal hail. Yes, -indeed, it is a sight to see, one far more stimulating than that of the Silk-worms’ -mess-room. Young and old, we are all so much interested in it that our evenings almost -invariably end in a visit to the greenhouse caterpillars. -</p> -<p>The meal is prolonged far into the night. Satisfied at last, some sooner, some later, -they go back to the nest, where for a little longer, feeling their silk-glands filled, -they continue spinning on the surface. These hard workers would scruple to cross the -white carpet without contributing a few threads. It is getting on for one or even -two o’clock in the morning when the last of the band goes indoors. -</p> -<p>My duty as a foster-father is daily to renew the bunch of sprigs, which are shorn -to the last leaf; on the other hand, my duty as an historian is to enquire to what -extent the diet can be varied. The district supplies me with Processionaries on the -Scotch pine, the maritime pine and the Aleppo pine indifferently, <span class="pageNum" id="pb37">[<a href="#pb37">37</a>]</span>but never on the other Coniferæ. Yet one would think that any resin-scented leaf ought -to suit. So says chemical analysis. -</p> -<p>We must mistrust the chemist’s retort when it pokes its nose into the kitchen. It -may succeed in making butter out of tallow-candles and brandy out of potatoes; but, -when it tells us that the products are identical, we shall do well to refuse these -abominations. Science, astonishingly rich as it is in poison, will never provide us -with anything fit to eat, because, though the raw substance falls to a large extent -within its domain, that same substance escapes its methods the moment that it is wanted -organized, divided and subdivided indefinitely by the process of life, as needed by -the stomach, whose requirements are not to be met by measured doses of our reagents. -The raw material of cell and fibre may perhaps be artificially obtained, some day; -cell and fibre themselves, never. There’s the rub with your chemical feeding. -</p> -<p>The caterpillars loudly proclaim the insurmountable difficulty of the problem. Relying -on my chemical data, I offer them the different substitutes for the pine growing in -my enclosure: the spruce, the yew, the thuja, the <span class="pageNum" id="pb38">[<a href="#pb38">38</a>]</span>juniper, the cypress. What! Am I asking them, Pine Caterpillars, to bite into that? -They will take good care not to, despite the tempting resinous smell! They would die -of hunger rather than touch it! One conifer and one only is excepted: the cedar. My -charges browse upon its leaves with no appreciable repugnance. Why the cedar and not -the others? I do not know. The caterpillar’s stomach, fastidious as our own, has its -secrets. -</p> -<p>Let us pass to other tests. I have just slit open longitudinally a nest whose internal -structure I want to explore. Owing to the natural shrinkage of the split swan’s-down, -the cleft reaches two fingers’ breadth in the centre and tapers at the top and bottom. -What will the spinners do in the presence of such a disaster? The operation is performed -by day, while the caterpillars are slumbering in heaps upon the dome. As the living-room -is deserted at this time, I can cut boldly with the scissors without risk of damaging -any part of the population. -</p> -<p>My ravages do not wake the sleepers: all day long not one appears upon the breach. -This indifference looks as though it were due <span class="pageNum" id="pb39">[<a href="#pb39">39</a>]</span>to the fact that the danger is not yet known. Things will be different to-night, when -the busy work begins again. However dull they may be, the caterpillars will certainly -notice that <span class="corr" id="xd31e604" title="Source: hugh">huge</span> window which freely admits the deadly draughts of winter; and, possessing any amount -of padding, they will crowd round the dangerous gap and stop it up in a trice. Thus -do we argue, forgetting the animal’s intellectual darkness. -</p> -<p>What really happens is that, when night falls, the indifference of the caterpillars -remains as great as ever. The breach in the tent provokes not a sign of excitement. -They move to and fro on the surface of the nest; they work, they spin as usual. There -is no change, absolutely none, in their behaviour. When the road covered chances to -bring some of them to the brink of the ravine, we see no alacrity on their part, no -sign of anxiety, no attempt to close up the two edges of the slit. They simply strive -to accomplish the difficult crossing and to continue their stroll as though they were -walking on a perfect web. And they manage it somehow or other, by fixing the thread -as far as the length of their body permits. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb40">[<a href="#pb40">40</a>]</span></p> -<p>Having once crossed the gulf, they pursue their way imperturbably, without stopping -any more at the breach. Others come upon the scene and, using the threads already -laid as foot-bridges, pass over the rent and walk on, leaving their own thread as -they go. Thus the first night’s work results in the laying over the cleft of a filmy -gauze, hardly perceptible, but just sufficient for the traffic of the colony. The -same thing is repeated on the nights that follow; and the crevice ends by being closed -with a scanty sort of Spider’s web. And that is all. -</p> -<p>There is no improvement by the end of the winter. The window made by my scissors is -still wide open, though thinly veiled; its black spindle shape shows from the top -of the nest to the bottom. There is no darn in the split texture, no piece of swan’s-down -let in between the two edges to restore the roof to its original state. If the accident -had happened in the open air and not under glass, the foolish spinners would probably -have died of cold in their cracked house. -</p> -<p>Twice renewed with the same results, this test proves that the Pine Caterpillars are -not alive to the danger of their split dwelling. <span class="pageNum" id="pb41">[<a href="#pb41">41</a>]</span>Expert spinners though they be, they seem as unconscious of the ruin of their work -as the spools in a factory are of a broken thread. They could easily make good the -damage by stopping up the breach with the silk that is lavished elsewhere without -urgent need; they could weave upon it a material as thick and solid as the rest of -the walls. But no, they placidly continue their habitual task; they spin as they spun -yesterday and as they will spin to-morrow, strengthening the parts that are already -strong, thickening what is already thick enough; and not one thinks of stopping the -disastrous gap. To let a piece into that hole would mean weaving the tent all over -again from the beginning; and no insect, however industrious, goes back to what it -has already done. -</p> -<p>I have often called attention to this feature in animal psychology; notably I have -described the ineptitude of the caterpillar of the Great Peacock Moth.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e618src" href="#xd31e618">1</a> When the experimenter lops the top off the complicated eel-trap which forms the pointed -end of the cocoon, this caterpillar spends the silk remaining <span class="pageNum" id="pb42">[<a href="#pb42">42</a>]</span>to him in work of secondary importance, instead of making good the series of cones, -each fitting into the other, which are so essential to the hermit’s protection. He -continues his normal task imperturbably, as though nothing out of the way had taken -place. Even so does the spinner in the pine-tree act with his burst tent. -</p> -<p>Your foster-parent must perpetrate yet another piece of mischief, O my Processionary; -but this time it shall be to your advantage! It does not take me long to perceive -that the nests intended to last through the winter often contain a population much -greater than that of the temporary shelters woven by the very young caterpillars. -I also notice that, when they have attained their ultimate dimensions, these nests -differ very considerably in size. The largest of them are equal to five or six of -the smallest. What is the cause of these variations? -</p> -<p>Certainly, if all the eggs turned out well, the scaly cylinder containing the laying -of a single mother would be enough to fill a splendid purse: there are three hundred -enamelled beads here for hatching. But in families which swarm unduly an enormous -waste always <span class="pageNum" id="pb43">[<a href="#pb43">43</a>]</span>takes places and restores the balance of things; if the called are legion, the chosen -are a well thinned-out troop, as is proved by the Cicada, the Praying Mantis<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e630src" href="#xd31e630">2</a> and the Cricket. -</p> -<p>The Pine Processionary, another crucible of organic matter of which various devourers -take advantage, is also reduced in numbers immediately after the hatching. The delicate -mouthful has shrunk to a few dozens of survivors around the light globular network -in which the family passes the sunny autumn days. Soon they will have to be thinking -of the stoutly-built winter tent. At such a time, it would be a boon if they could -be many, for from union springs strength. -</p> -<p>I suspect an easy method of fusion among a few families. To serve them as a guide -in their peregrinations about the tree, the caterpillars have their silk ribbon, which -they follow on their return, after describing a bend. They may also miss it and strike -another, one differing in no respect from their own. This new ribbon marks the way -to some nest situated in the neighbourhood. The strayed <span class="pageNum" id="pb44">[<a href="#pb44">44</a>]</span>caterpillars, failing to distinguish it from their own ribbon, follow it conscientiously -and in this manner end by reaching a strange dwelling. Suppose them to be peacefully -received: what will happen? -</p> -<p>Once fused, the several groups assembled by the accident of the path will form a powerful -city, fitted to produce great works; the concerted weaklings will give rise to a strong, -united body. This would explain the thickly-populated, bulky nests situated so near -to others that have remained puny. The former would be the work of a syndicate incorporating -the interests of spinners collected from different parts; the latter would belong -to families left in isolation by the luck of the road. -</p> -<p>It remains to be seen whether the chance-comers, guided by a strange ribbon, meet -with a good reception in the new abode. The experiment is easily made upon the nests -in the greenhouse. In the evening, at the hours devoted to grazing, I remove with -a pruning-shears the different little branches covered with the population of one -nest and lay them on the provisions of the neighbouring nest, which provisions are -also overrun with caterpillars. <span class="pageNum" id="pb45">[<a href="#pb45">45</a>]</span>Or I can make shorter work of it by taking the whole bunch, well covered with the -troop, of the first pouch and planting it right beside the bunch of the second, so -that the leaves of the two mingle a little at the edges. -</p> -<p>There is not the least quarrelling between the real proprietors and the new arrivals. -Both go on peacefully browsing, as though nothing had happened. And all without hesitation, -when bed-time comes, make for the nest, like brothers who have always lived together; -all do some spinning before retiring to rest, thicken the blanket a little and are -then swallowed up in the dormitory. By repeating the same operation next day and, -if necessary, the day after, in order to collect the laggards, I succeed without the -slightest difficulty in wholly depopulating the first nest and transferring all its -caterpillars to the second. -</p> -<p>I venture to do something better still. The same method of transportation allows me -to quadruple the output of a spinning-mill by adding to it the workers of three similar -establishments. And, if I limit myself to this increase, the reason is not that any -confusion <span class="pageNum" id="pb46">[<a href="#pb46">46</a>]</span>manifests itself in this shifting of quarters, but that I see no bounds to my experiment, -so cheerfully do the caterpillars accept any addition to their number. The more spinners, -the more spinning: a very judicious rule of conduct. -</p> -<p>Let us add that the caterpillars which have been transported cherish no regrets for -their old house. They are quite at home with the others and make no attempt to regain -the nest whence they were banished by my artifices. It is not the distance that discourages -them, for the empty dwelling is only half a yard away at most. If, for the purpose -of my studies, I wish to restock the deserted nest, I am obliged once more to resort -to transportation, which invariably proves successful. -</p> -<p>Later, in February, when an occasional fine day allows of long processions on the -walls and the sand-covered shelf of the greenhouse, I am able to watch the fusing -of two groups without personally intervening. All that I have to do is patiently to -follow the evolutions of a file on the march. I see it sometimes, after leaving one -nest, enter a different one, guided by some fortuitous <span class="pageNum" id="pb47">[<a href="#pb47">47</a>]</span>change of route. Thenceforward the strangers form part of the community on the same -footing as the others. In a like fashion, when the caterpillars walk abroad upon the -tree at night, the scanty groups of the outset must increase and gather the number -of spinners which an extensive building requires. -</p> -<p>Everything for everybody. So says the Pine Processionary, nibbling his leaves without -quarrelling in the least over his neighbours’ mouthfuls, or else entering—and being -always peacefully received—another’s home precisely as he would his own. Whether a -member of the tribe or a stranger, he finds room in the refectory and room in the -dormitory. The others’ nest is his nest. The others’ grazing-ground is his grazing-ground, -in which he is entitled to his fair share, one neither greater nor smaller than the -share of his habitual or casual companions. -</p> -<p>Each for all and all for each. So says the Processionary, who every evening spends -his little capital of silk on enlarging a shelter that is often new to him. What would -he do with his puny skein, if alone? Hardly anything. But there are hundreds and hundreds -of them in the spinning-mill; and the result <span class="pageNum" id="pb48">[<a href="#pb48">48</a>]</span>of their infinitesimal contributions, woven into a common stuff, is a thick blanket -capable of resisting the winter. In working for himself, each works for the others; -and these on their side work as zealously for each. O lucky animals that know nothing -of property, the mother of strife! O enviable cenobites, who practise the strictest -communism! -</p> -<p>These habits of the caterpillars invite a few reflections. Generous minds, richer -in illusions than in logic, set communism before us as the sovran cure for human ills. -Is it practicable among mankind? At all times there have been, there still are and -there always will be, fortunately, associations in which it is possible to forget -in common some small part of the hardships of life; but is it possible to generalize? -</p> -<p>The caterpillars of the pine can give us much valuable information in this respect. -Let us have no false shame: our material needs are shared by the animals; they struggle -as we do to take part in the general banquet of the living; and the manner in which -they solve the problem of existence is not to be despised. Let us then ask ourselves -what <span class="pageNum" id="pb49">[<a href="#pb49">49</a>]</span>are the reasons that cause cenobitism to flourish among the Processionaries. -</p> -<p>One answer suggests itself inevitably, to begin with: the food problem, that terrible -disturber of the world’s tranquillity, is here non-existent. Peace reigns as soon -as the stomach is certain of being filled without a struggle. A pine-needle or even -less suffices for the caterpillar’s meal; and that needle is always there, waiting -to be eaten, is there in inexhaustible numbers, almost on the threshold of the home. -When dinner-time arrives, we caterpillars go out, we take the air, we walk a little -in procession; then, without laborious seeking, without jealous rivalries, we seat -ourselves at the banquet. The table is plentifully spread and will never be bare, -so large and generous is the pine; all that we need do is, from one evening to the -next, to move our dining-room a little farther on. Consequently, there are no present -and no future cares on the subject of provisions: the caterpillar finds food to eat -almost as easily as he finds air to breathe. -</p> -<p>The atmosphere feeds all creatures on air with a bounty which it is not necessary -to crave. All unknown to itself, without the <span class="pageNum" id="pb50">[<a href="#pb50">50</a>]</span>agency of any effort or labour, the animal receives its share of the most vital of -elements. The niggardly earth, on the contrary, surrenders its gifts only when laboriously -forced. Not fruitful enough to satisfy every need, it leaves the division of the food -to the fierce eagerness of competition. -</p> -<p>The mouthful to be procured engenders war between consumers. Look at two Ground-beetles -coming at the same time upon a bit of Earth-worm. Which of the two shall have the -morsel? The matter shall be decided by battle, desperate, ferocious battle. With these -famished ones, who eat at long intervals and do not always eat their fill, communal -life is out of the question. -</p> -<p>The Pine Caterpillar is free from these woes. He finds the earth as generous as the -atmosphere; he finds eating as easy as breathing. Other instances of perfect communism -might be named. All occur among species living on a vegetable diet, provided however -that victuals are plentiful and obtainable without a hard search. An animal diet, -on the contrary, a prey, always more or less difficult to secure, banishes cenobitism. -Where the <span class="pageNum" id="pb51">[<a href="#pb51">51</a>]</span>portion is too small for one, what excuse would there be for guests? -</p> -<p>The Pine Processionary knows nothing of privation. He knows as little of family ties, -another source of unrelenting competition. To make ourselves a place in the sun is -but a half of the struggle imposed upon us by life: we must also, as far as possible, -prepare a place for our successors; and, as the preservation of the species is of -greater importance than that of the individual, the struggle for the future is even -fiercer than the struggle for the present. Every mother regards the welfare of her -offspring as her primary law. Perish all else, provided that the brood flourish! Every -one for himself is her maxim, imposed by the rigours of the general conflict; every -one for himself is her rule, the safeguard of the future. -</p> -<p>With maternity and its imperious duties, communism ceases to be practicable. At first -sight, certain Hymenoptera<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e680src" href="#xd31e680">3</a> seem to declare the contrary. We find, for instance, the Mason-bees of the Sheds<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e684src" href="#xd31e684">4</a> nesting in myriads <span class="pageNum" id="pb52">[<a href="#pb52">52</a>]</span>on the same tiles and building a monumental edifice at which all the mothers work. -Is this really a community? Not at all. It is a city in which the inhabitants have -neighbours, not collaborators. Each mother kneads her pots of honey; each amasses -a dowry for her offspring and nothing but a dowry for her offspring; each wears herself -out for her family and only for her family. Oh, it would be a serious business if -some one merely came and alighted on the brim of a cell that did not belong to her; -the mistress of the house would give her to understand, by means of a sound drubbing, -that manners such as those are not to be endured! She would have to skedaddle very -quickly, unless she wanted a fight. The rights of property are sacred here. -</p> -<p>Even the much more social Hive-bee is no exception to the rule of maternal egoism. -To each hive one mother. If there be two, civil war breaks out and one of them perishes -by the other’s dagger or else quits the country, followed by a part of the swarm. -Although virtually fit to lay eggs, the other Bees, to the number of some twenty thousand, -renounce maternity and vow themselves to celibacy in order to bring up the prodigious -<span class="pageNum" id="pb53">[<a href="#pb53">53</a>]</span>family of the one and only mother. Here, communism reigns, under certain aspects; -but, for the immense majority, motherhood is forthwith abolished. -</p> -<p>Even so with the Wasps, the Ants, the Termites<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e700src" href="#xd31e700">5</a> and the various social insects. Life in common costs them dear. Thousands and thousands -remain incomplete and become the humble auxiliaries of a few who are sexually endowed. -But, whenever maternity is the general portion, individualism reappears, as among -the Mason-bees, notwithstanding their show of communism. -</p> -<p>The Pine Caterpillars are exempt from the duty of preserving the race. They have no -sex, or rather are obscurely preparing one, as undecided and rudimentary as all that -is not yet but must one day be. With the blossoming of maternity, that flower of adult -age, individual property will not fail to appear, attended by its rivalries. The insect -now so peaceable will, like the others, have its displays of selfish intolerance. -The mothers will isolate themselves, jealous of the double pine-needle in which the -cylinder of eggs is to be fixed; the males, fluttering their wings, <span class="pageNum" id="pb54">[<a href="#pb54">54</a>]</span>will challenge one another for the possession of the coveted bride. It is not a serious -struggle among these easy-going ones, but still it presents a faint picture of those -mortal affrays which the mating so often produces. Love rules the world by battle; -it too is a hotbed of competition. -</p> -<p>The caterpillar, being almost sexless, is indifferent to amorous instincts. This is -the first condition for living pacifically in common. But it is not enough. The perfect -concord of the community demands among all its members an equal division of strength -and talent, of taste and capacity for work. This condition, which perhaps is the most -important of all, is fulfilled preeminently. If there were hundreds, if there were -thousands of them in the same nest, there would be no difference between any of them. -</p> -<p>They are all the same size and equally strong; all wear the same dress; all possess -the same gift for spinning; and all with equal zeal expend the contents of their silk-glands -for the general welfare. No one idles, no one lounges along when there is work to -be done. With no other stimulus than the satisfaction of doing their duty, every evening, -<span class="pageNum" id="pb55">[<a href="#pb55">55</a>]</span>when the weather is favourable, they all spin with equal industry and drain to the -last drop their reservoirs of silk, which have become distended during the day. In -their tribe there is no question of skilled or unskilled, of strong or weak, of abstemious -or gluttonous; there are neither hard-workers nor idlers, neither savers nor spendthrifts. -What one does the others do, with a like zeal, no more and no less well. It is a splendid -world of equality truly, but, alas, a world of caterpillars! -</p> -<p>If it suited us to go to school to the Pine Processionary, we should soon see the -inanity of our levelling and communistic theories. Equality is a magnificent political -catchword, but little more. Where is it, this equality of ours? In our social groups, -could we find as many as two persons exactly equal in strength, health, intelligence, -capacity for work, foresight and all the other gifts which are the great factors of -prosperity? Where should we find anything analogous to the exact parity prevailing -among caterpillars? Nowhere. Inequality is our law. And a good thing, too. -</p> -<p>A sound which is invariably the same, however often multiplied, does not constitute -a <span class="pageNum" id="pb56">[<a href="#pb56">56</a>]</span>harmony. We need dissimilarities, sounds loud and soft, deep and shrill; we need even -discords which, by their harshness, throw into relief the sweetness of the chords. -In the same way, human societies are harmonious only with the aid of contraries. If -the dreams of our levellers could be realized, we should sink to the monotony of the -caterpillar societies; art, science, progress and the lofty flights of the imagination -would slumber indefinitely in the dead calm of mediocrity. -</p> -<p>Besides, if this general levelling were effected, we should still be very far from -communism. To achieve that, we should have to do away with the family, as the caterpillars -and Plato teach us; we should need abundance of food obtained without any effort. -So long as a mouthful of bread is difficult to acquire, demanding an industry and -labour of which we are not all equally capable, so long as the family remains the -sacred reason for our foresight, so long will the generous theory of all for each -and each for all be absolutely impracticable. -</p> -<p>And then should we gain by abolishing the struggle for the daily bread of ourselves -and those dependent on us? It is very doubtful. <span class="pageNum" id="pb57">[<a href="#pb57">57</a>]</span>We should be getting rid of this world’s two great joys, work and the family, the -only joys that give any value to life; we should be stifling exactly that which makes -our greatness. And the result of this bestial sacrilege would be a community of human -caterpillars. Thus does the Pine Processionary teach us by his example. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb58">[<a href="#pb58">58</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e618"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e618src">1</a></span> In the course of an essay on aberration of instinct in a certain Mason-wasp which -is not yet translated into English.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e618src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e630"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e630src">2</a></span> A predatory insect, akin to the Locusts and Crickets, which, when at rest, adopts -an attitude resembling that of prayer. Cf. <i>Social Life in the Insect World</i>: chaps. v to vii.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e630src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e680"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e680src">3</a></span> The order of insects embracing the Bees, Wasps, Ants, Saw-flies, Ichneumon-flies, -etc.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e680src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e684"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e684src">4</a></span> Cf. <i>The Mason-bees</i>, by J. Henri Fabre, translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos, <i>passim</i>.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e684src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e700"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e700src">5</a></span> White Ants.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e700src" title="Return to note 5 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch3" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e204">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label">CHAPTER III</h2> -<h2 class="main">THE PINE PROCESSIONARY: THE PROCESSION</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Drover Dingdong’s Sheep followed the Ram which Panurge had maliciously thrown overboard -and leapt nimbly into the sea, one after the other, “for you know,” says Rabelais, -“it is the nature of the sheep always to follow the first, wheresoever it goes; which -makes Aristotle mark them for the most silly and foolish animals in the world.”<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e732src" href="#xd31e732">1</a> -</p> -<p>The Pine Caterpillar is even more sheep-like, not from foolishness, but from necessity: -where the first goes all the others go, in a regular string, with not an empty space -between them. -</p> -<p>They proceed in single file, in a continuous row, each touching with its head the -rear of the one in front of it. The complex twists and turns described in his vagaries -by the caterpillar leading the van are scrupulously described by all the others. No -Greek <i>theoria</i> winding its way to the Eleusinian festivals was <span class="pageNum" id="pb59">[<a href="#pb59">59</a>]</span>ever more orderly. Hence the name of Processionary given to the gnawer of the pine. -</p> -<p>His character is complete when we add that he is a rope-dancer all his life long: -he walks only on the tight-rope, a silken rail placed in position as he advances. -The caterpillar who chances to be at the head of the procession dribbles his thread -without ceasing and fixes it on the path which his fickle preferences cause him to -take. The thread is so tiny that the eye, though armed with a magnifying-glass, suspects -it rather than sees it. -</p> -<p>But a second caterpillar steps on the slender footboard and doubles it with his thread; -a third trebles it; and all the others, however many there be, add the sticky spray -from their spinnerets, so much so that, when the procession has marched by, there -remains, as a record of its passing, a narrow white ribbon whose dazzling whiteness -shimmers in the sun. Very much more sumptuous than ours, their system of road-making -consists in upholstering with silk instead of macadamizing. We sprinkle our roads -with broken stones and level them by the pressure of a heavy steam-roller; they lay -over their paths a soft satin <span class="pageNum" id="pb60">[<a href="#pb60">60</a>]</span>rail, a work of general interest to which each contributes his thread. -</p> -<p>What is the use of all this luxury? Could they not, like other caterpillars, walk -about without these costly preparations? I see two reasons for their mode of progression. -It is night when the Processionaries sally forth to browse upon the pine-leaves. They -leave their nest, situated at the top of a bough, in profound darkness; they go down -the denuded pole till they come to the nearest branch that has not yet been gnawed, -a branch which becomes lower and lower by degrees as the consumers finish stripping -the upper storeys; they climb up this untouched branch and spread over the green needles. -</p> -<p>When they have had their suppers and begin to feel the keen night air, the next thing -is to return to the shelter of the house. Measured in a straight line, the distance -is not great, hardly an arm’s length; but it cannot be covered in this way on foot. -The caterpillars have to climb down from one crossing to the next, from the needle -to the twig, from the twig to the branch, from the branch to the bough and from the -bough, by a no less angular path, to go back home. It <span class="pageNum" id="pb61">[<a href="#pb61">61</a>]</span>is useless to rely upon sight as a guide on this long and erratic journey. The Processionary, -it is true, has five ocular specks on either side of his head, but they are so infinitesimal, -so difficult to make out through the magnifying-glass, that we cannot attribute to -them any great power of vision. Besides, what good would those short-sighted lenses -be in the absence of light, in black darkness? -</p> -<p>It is equally useless to think of the sense of smell. Has the Processional any olfactory -powers or has he not? I do not know. Without giving a positive answer to the question, -I can at least declare that his sense of smell is exceedingly dull and in no way suited -to help him find his way. This is proved, in my experiments, by a number of hungry -caterpillars that, after a long fast, pass close beside a pine-branch without betraying -any eagerness or showing a sign of stopping. It is the sense of touch that tells them -where they are. So long as their lips do not chance to light upon the pasture-land, -not one of them settles there, though he be ravenous. They do not hasten to food which -they have scented from afar; they stop at a branch which they encounter on their way. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb62">[<a href="#pb62">62</a>]</span></p> -<p>Apart from sight and smell, what remains to guide them in returning to the nest? The -ribbon spun on the road. In the Cretan labyrinth, Theseus would have been lost but -for the clue of thread with which Ariadne supplied him. The spreading maze of the -pine-needles is, especially at night, as inextricable a labyrinth as that constructed -for Minos. The Processionary finds his way through it, without the possibility of -a mistake, by the aid of his bit of silk. At the time for going home, each easily -recovers either his own thread or one or other of the neighbouring threads, spread -fanwise by the diverging herd; one by one the scattered tribe line up on the common -ribbon, which started from the nest; and the sated caravan finds its way back to the -manor with absolute certainty. -</p> -<p>Longer expeditions are made in the daytime, even in winter, if the weather be fine. -Our caterpillars then come down from the tree, venture on the ground, march in procession -for a distance of thirty yards or so. The object of these sallies is not to look for -food, for the native pine-tree is far from being exhausted: the shorn branches hardly -count amid the vast leafage. Moreover, the caterpillars <span class="pageNum" id="pb63">[<a href="#pb63">63</a>]</span>observe complete abstinence till nightfall. The trippers have no other object than -a constitutional, a pilgrimage to the outskirts to see what these are like, possibly -an inspection of the locality where, later on, they mean to bury themselves in the -sand for their metamorphosis. -</p> -<p>It goes without saying that, in these greater evolutions, the guiding cord is not -neglected. It is now more necessary than ever. All contribute to it from the produce -of their spinnerets, as is the invariable rule whenever there is a progression. Not -one takes a step forward without fixing to the path the thread hanging from his lip. -</p> -<p>If the series forming the procession be at all long, the ribbon is dilated sufficiently -to make it easy to find; nevertheless, on the homeward journey, it is not picked up -without some hesitation. For observe that the caterpillars when on the march never -turn completely; to wheel round on their tight-rope is a method utterly unknown to -them. In order therefore to regain the road already covered, they have to describe -a zig-zag whose windings and extent are determined by the leader’s fancy. Hence come -gropings and <span class="pageNum" id="pb64">[<a href="#pb64">64</a>]</span>roamings which are sometimes prolonged to the point of causing the herd to spend the -night out of doors. It is not a serious matter. They collect into a motionless cluster. -To-morrow the search will start afresh and will sooner or later be successful. Oftener -still the winding curve meets the guide-thread at the first attempt. As soon as the -first caterpillar has the rail between his legs, all hesitation ceases; and the band -makes for the nest with hurried steps. -</p> -<p>The use of this silk-tapestried roadway is evident from a second point of view. To -protect himself against the severity of the winter which he has to face when working, -the Pine Caterpillar weaves himself a shelter in which he spends his bad hours, his -days of enforced idleness. Alone, with none but the meagre resources of his silk-glands, -he would find difficulty in protecting himself on the top of a branch buffeted by -the winds. A substantial dwelling, proof against snow, gales and icy fogs, requires -the cooperation of a large number. Out of the individual’s piled-up atoms, the community -obtains a spacious and durable establishment. -</p> -<p>The enterprise takes a long time to complete. <span class="pageNum" id="pb65">[<a href="#pb65">65</a>]</span>Every evening, when the weather permits, the building has to be strengthened and enlarged. -It is indispensable, therefore, that the corporation of workers should not be dissolved -while the stormy season continues and the insects are still in the caterpillar stage. -But, without special arrangements, each nocturnal expedition at grazing-time would -be a cause of separation. At that moment of appetite for food there is a return to -individualism. The caterpillars become more or less scattered, settling singly on -the branches around; each browses his pine-needle separately. How are they to find -one another afterwards and become a community again? -</p> -<p>The several threads left on the road make this easy. With that guide, every caterpillar, -however far he may be, comes back to his companions without ever missing the way. -They come hurrying from a host of twigs, from here, from there, from above, from below; -and soon the scattered legion reforms into a group. The silk thread is something more -than a road-making expedient: it is the social bond, the system that keeps the members -of the community indissolubly united. -</p> -<p>At the head of every procession, long or <span class="pageNum" id="pb66">[<a href="#pb66">66</a>]</span>short, goes a first caterpillar whom I will call the leader of the march or file, -though the word leader, which I use for want of a better, is a little out of place -here. Nothing, in fact, distinguishes this caterpillar from the others: it just depends -upon the order in which they happen to line up; and mere chance brings him to the -front. Among the Processionaries, every captain is an officer of fortune. The actual -leader leads; presently he will be a subaltern, if the file should break up in consequence -of some accident and be formed anew in a different order. -</p> -<p>His temporary functions give him an attitude of his own. While the others follow passively -in a close file, he, the captain, tosses himself about and with an abrupt movement -flings the front of his body hither and thither. As he marches ahead he seems to be -seeking his way. Does he in point of fact explore the country? Does he choose the -most practicable places? Or are his hesitations merely the result of the absence of -a guiding thread on ground that has not yet been covered? His subordinates follow -very placidly, reassured by the cord which they hold between their legs; he, deprived -of that support, is uneasy. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb67">[<a href="#pb67">67</a>]</span></p> -<p>Why cannot I read what passes under his black, shiny skull, so like a drop of tar? -To judge by actions, there is here a small dose of discernment which is able, after -experimenting, to recognize excessive roughnesses, over-slippery surfaces, dusty places -that offer no resistance and, above all, the threads left by other excursionists. -This is all or nearly all that my long acquaintance with the Processionaries has taught -me as to their mentality. Poor brains, indeed; poor creatures, whose commonwealth -has its safety hanging upon a thread! -</p> -<p>The processions vary greatly in length. The finest that I have seen manœuvring on -the ground measured twelve or thirteen yards and numbered about three hundred caterpillars, -drawn up with absolute precision in a wavy line. But, if there were only two in a -row, the order would still be perfect: the second touches and follows the first. -</p> -<p>By February I have processions of all lengths in the greenhouse<span class="corr" id="xd31e784" title="Not in source">.</span> What tricks can I play upon them? I see only two: to do away with the leader; and -to cut the thread. -</p> -<p>The suppression of the leader of the file produces nothing striking. If the thing -is <span class="pageNum" id="pb68">[<a href="#pb68">68</a>]</span>done without creating a disturbance, the procession does not alter its ways at all. -The second caterpillar, promoted to captain, knows the duties of his rank off-hand: -he selects and leads, or rather he hesitates and gropes. -</p> -<p>The breaking of the silk ribbon is not very important either. I remove a caterpillar -from the middle of the file. With my scissors, so as not to cause a commotion in the -ranks, I cut the piece of ribbon on which he stood and clear away every thread of -it. As a result of this breach, the procession acquires two marching leaders, each -independent of the other. It may be that the one in the rear joins the file ahead -of him, from which he is separated by but a slender interval; in that case, things -return to their original condition. More frequently, the two parts do not become reunited. -In that case, we have two distinct processions, each of which wanders where it pleases -and diverges from the other. Nevertheless, both will be able to return to the nest -by discovering sooner or later, in the course of their peregrinations, the ribbon -on the other side of the break. -</p> -<p>These two experiments are only moderately <span class="pageNum" id="pb69">[<a href="#pb69">69</a>]</span>interesting. I have thought out another, one more fertile in possibilities. I propose -to make the caterpillars describe a close circuit, after the ribbons running from -it and liable to bring about a change of direction have been destroyed. The locomotive -engine pursues its invariable course so long as it is not shunted on to a branch-line. -If the Processionaries find the silken rail always clear in front of them, with no -switches anywhere, will they continue on the same track, will they persist in following -a road that never comes to an end? What we have to do is to produce this circuit, -which is unknown under ordinary conditions, by artificial means. -</p> -<p>The first idea that suggests itself is to seize with the forceps the silk ribbon at -the back of the train, to bend it without shaking it and to bring the end of it ahead -of the file. If the caterpillar marching in the van steps upon it, the thing is done: -the others will follow him faithfully. The operation is very simple in theory but -very difficult in practice and produces no useful results. The ribbon, which is extremely -slight, breaks under the weight of the grains of sand that stick to it and are lifted -with it. If it does not break, the caterpillars <span class="pageNum" id="pb70">[<a href="#pb70">70</a>]</span>at the back, however delicately we may go to work, feel a disturbance which makes -them curl up or even let go. -</p> -<p>There is a yet greater difficulty: the leader refuses the ribbon laid before him; -the cut end makes him distrustful. Failing to see the regular, uninterrupted road, -he slants off to the right or left, he escapes at a tangent. If I try to interfere -and to bring him back to the path of my choosing, he persists in his refusal, shrivels -up, does not budge; and soon the whole procession is in confusion. We will not insist: -the method is a poor one, very wasteful of effort for at best a problematical success. -</p> -<p>We ought to interfere as little as possible and obtain a natural closed circuit. Can -it be done? Yes. It lies in our power, without the least meddling, to see a procession -march along a perfect circular track. I owe this result, which is eminently deserving -of our attention, to pure chance. -</p> -<p>On the shelf with the layer of sand in which the nests are planted stand some big -palm-vases measuring nearly a yard and a half in circumference at the top. The caterpillars -often scale the sides and climb up to the <span class="pageNum" id="pb71">[<a href="#pb71">71</a>]</span>moulding which forms a cornice around the opening. This place suits them for their -processions, perhaps because of the absolute firmness of the surface, where there -is no fear of landslides, as on the loose, sandy soil below; and also, perhaps, because -of the horizontal position, which is favorable to repose after the fatigue of the -ascent. It provides me with a circular track all ready-made. I have nothing to do -but wait for an occasion propitious to my plans. This occasion is not long in coming. -</p> -<p>On the 30th of January, 1896, a little before twelve o’clock in the day, I discover -a numerous troop making their way up and gradually reaching the popular cornice. Slowly, -in single file, the caterpillars climb the great vase, mount the ledge and advance -in regular procession, while others are constantly arriving and continuing the series. -I wait for the string to close up, that is to say, for the leader, who keeps following -the circular moulding, to return to the point from which he started. My object is -achieved in a quarter of an hour. The closed circuit is realized magnificently, in -something very nearly approaching a circle. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb72">[<a href="#pb72">72</a>]</span></p> -<p>The next thing is to get rid of the rest of the ascending column, which would disturb -the fine order of the procession by an excess of newcomers; it is also important that -we should do away with all the silken paths, both new and old, that can put the cornice -into communication with the ground. With a thick hair-pencil I sweep away the surplus -climbers; with a big brush, one that leaves no smell behind it—for this might afterwards -prove confusing—I carefully rub down the vase and get rid of every thread which the -caterpillars have laid on the march. When these preparations are finished, a curious -sight awaits us. -</p> -<p>In the uninterrupted circular procession there is no longer a leader. Each caterpillar -is preceded by another on whose heels he follows, guided by the silk track, the work -of the whole party; he again has a companion close behind him, following him in the -same orderly way. And this is repeated without variation throughout the length of -the chain. None commands, or rather none modifies the trail according to his fancy; -all obey, trusting in the guide who ought normally to lead the <span class="pageNum" id="pb73">[<a href="#pb73">73</a>]</span>march and who in reality has been abolished by my trickery. -</p> -<p>From the first circuit of the edge of the tub the rail of silk has been laid in position -and is soon turned into a narrow ribbon by the procession, which never ceases dribbling -its thread as it goes. The rail is simply doubled and has no branches anywhere, for -my brush has destroyed them all. What will the caterpillars do on this deceptive, -closed path? Will they walk endlessly round and round until their strength gives out -entirely? -</p> -<p>The old schoolmen were fond of quoting Buridan’s<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e818src" href="#xd31e818">2</a> Ass, that famous Donkey who, when placed between two bundles of hay, starved to death -because he was unable to decide in favour of either by breaking the equilibrium between -two equal but opposite attractions. They slandered the worthy animal. The Ass, who -is no more foolish than any one else, would reply to the logical snare by feasting -off both bundles. Will my caterpillars <span class="pageNum" id="pb74">[<a href="#pb74">74</a>]</span>show a little of his mother wit? Will they, after many attempts, be able to break -the equilibrium of their closed circuit, which keeps them on a road without a turning? -Will they make up their minds to swerve to this side or that, which is the only method -of reaching their bundle of hay, the green branch yonder, quite near, not two feet -off? -</p> -<p>I thought that they would and I was wrong. I said to myself: -</p> -<p>“The procession will go on turning for some time, for an hour, two hours perhaps; -then the caterpillars will perceive their mistake. They will abandon the deceptive -road and make their descent somewhere or other.” -</p> -<p>That they should remain up there, hard pressed by hunger and the lack of cover, when -nothing prevented them from going away, seemed to me inconceivable imbecility. Facts, -however, forced me to accept the incredible. Let us describe them in detail. -</p> -<p>The circular procession begins, as I have said, on the 30th of January, about midday, -in splendid weather. The caterpillars march at an even pace, each touching the stern -of the one in front of him. The unbroken chain eliminates the leader with his changes -of direction; <span class="pageNum" id="pb75">[<a href="#pb75">75</a>]</span>and all follow mechanically, as faithful to their circle as are the hands of a watch. -The headless file has no liberty left, no will; it has become mere clock-work. And -this continues for hours and hours. My success goes far beyond my wildest suspicions. -I stand amazed at it, or rather I am stupefied. -</p> -<p>Meanwhile, the multiplied circuits change the original rail into a superb ribbon a -twelfth of an inch broad. I can easily see it glittering on the red ground of the -pot. The day is drawing to a close and no alteration has yet taken place in the position -of the trail. A striking proof confirms this. -</p> -<p>The trajectory is not a plane curve, but one which, at a certain point, deviates and -goes down a little way to the lower surface of the cornice, returning to the top some -eight inches farther. I marked these two points of deviation in pencil on the vase -at the outset. Well, all that afternoon and, more conclusive still, on the following -days, right to the end of this mad dance, I see the string of caterpillars dip under -the ledge at the first point and come to the top again at the second. Once the first -thread is laid, the road to be pursued is permanently established. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb76">[<a href="#pb76">76</a>]</span></p> -<p>If the road does not vary, the speed does. I measure nine centimetres<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e839src" href="#xd31e839">3</a> a minute as the average distance covered. But there are more or less lengthy halts; -the pace slackens at times, especially when the temperature falls. At ten o’clock -in the evening the walk is little more than a lazy swaying of the body. I foresee -an early halt, in consequence of the cold, of fatigue and doubtless also of hunger. -</p> -<p>Grazing-time has arrived. The caterpillars have come crowding from all the nests in -the greenhouse to browse upon the pine-branches planted by myself beside the silken -purses. Those in the garden do the same, for the temperature is mild. The others, -lined up along the earthenware cornice, would gladly take part in the feast; they -are bound to have an appetite after a ten hours’ walk. The branch stands green and -tempting not a hand’s breadth away. To reach it they need but go down; and the poor -wretches, foolish slaves of their ribbon that they are, cannot make up their minds -to do so. I leave the famished ones at half-past ten, persuaded that they will take -counsel with their pillow and <span class="pageNum" id="pb77">[<a href="#pb77">77</a>]</span>that on the morrow things will have resumed their ordinary course. -</p> -<p>I was wrong. I was expecting too much of them when I accorded them that faint gleam -of intelligence which the tribulations of a distressful stomach ought, one would think, -to have aroused. I visit them at dawn. They are lined up as on the day before, but -motionless. When the air grows a little warmer, they shake off their torpor, revive -and start walking again. The circular procession begins anew, like that which I have -already seen. There is nothing more and nothing less to be noted in their machine-like -obstinacy. -</p> -<p>This time it is a bitter night. A cold snap has supervened, was indeed foretold in -the evening by the garden caterpillars, who refused to come out despite appearances -which to my duller senses seemed to promise a continuation of the fine weather. At -daybreak the rosemary-walks are all asparkle with rime and for the second time this -year there is a sharp frost. The large pond in the garden is frozen over. What can -the caterpillars in the conservatory be doing? Let us go and see. -</p> -<p>All are ensconced in their nests, except the <span class="pageNum" id="pb78">[<a href="#pb78">78</a>]</span>stubborn processionists on the edge of the vase, who, deprived of shelter as they -are, seem to have spent a very bad night. I find them clustered in two heaps, without -any attempt at order. They have suffered less from the cold, thus huddled together. -</p> -<p>’Tis an ill wind that blows nobody any good. The severity of the night has caused -the ring to break into two segments which will, perhaps, afford a chance of safety. -Each group, as it revives and resumes its walk, will presently be headed by a leader -who, not being obliged to follow a caterpillar in front of him, will possess some -liberty of movement and perhaps be able to make the procession swerve to one side. -Remember that, in the ordinary processions, the caterpillar walking ahead acts as -a scout. While the others, if nothing occurs to create excitement, keep to their ranks, -he attends to his duties as a leader and is continually turning his head to this side -and that, investigating, seeking, groping, making his choice. And things happen as -he decides: the band follows him faithfully. Remember also that, even on a road which -has already been travelled and beribboned, the guiding caterpillar continues to explore. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb79">[<a href="#pb79">79</a>]</span></p> -<p>There is reason to believe that the Processionaries who have lost their way on the -ledge will find a chance of safety here. Let us watch them. On recovering from their -torpor, the two groups line up by degrees into two distinct files. There are therefore -two leaders, free to go where they please, independent of each other. Will they succeed -in leaving the enchanted circle? At the sight of their large black heads swaying anxiously -from side to side, I am inclined to think so for a moment. But I am soon undeceived. -As the ranks fill out, the two sections of the chain meet and the circle is reconstituted. -The momentary leaders once more become simple subordinates; and again the caterpillars -march round and round all day. -</p> -<p>For the second time in succession, the night, which is very calm and magnificently -starry, brings a hard frost. In the morning the Processionaries on the tub, the only -ones who have camped out unsheltered, are gathered into a heap which largely overflows -both sides of the fatal ribbon. I am present at the awakening of the numbed ones. -The first to take the road is, as luck will have it, outside <span class="pageNum" id="pb80">[<a href="#pb80">80</a>]</span>the track. Hesitatingly he ventures into unknown ground. He reaches the top of the -rim and descends upon the other side on the earth in the vase. He is followed by six -others, no more. Perhaps the rest of the troop, who have not fully recovered from -their nocturnal torpor, are to lazy to bestir themselves. -</p> -<p>The result of this brief delay is a return to the old track. The caterpillars embark -on the silken trail and the circular march is resumed, this time in the form of a -ring with a gap in it. There is no attempt, however, to strike a new course on the -part of the guide whom this gap has placed at the head. A chance of stepping outside -the magic circle has presented itself at last; and he does not know how to avail himself -of it. -</p> -<p>As for the caterpillars who have made their way to the inside of the vase, their lot -is hardly improved. They climb to the top of the palm, starving and seeking for food. -Finding nothing to eat that suits them, they retrace their steps by following the -thread which they have left on the way, climb the ledge of the pot, strike the procession -again and, without further anxiety, slip back into the ranks. <span class="pageNum" id="pb81">[<a href="#pb81">81</a>]</span>Once more the ring is complete, once more the circle turns and turns. -</p> -<p>Then when will the deliverance come? There is a legend that tells of poor souls dragged -along in an endless round until the hellish charm is broken by a drop of holy water. -What drop will good fortune sprinkle on my Processionaries to dissolve their circle -and bring them back to the nest? I see only two means of conjuring the spell and obtaining -a release from the circuit. These two means are two painful ordeals. A strange linking -of cause and effect: from sorrow and wretchedness good is to come. -</p> -<p>And, first, shrivelling as the result of cold. The caterpillars gather together without -any order, heap themselves some on the path, some, more numerous these, outside it. -Among the latter there may be, sooner or later, some revolutionary who, scorning the -beaten track, will trace out a new road and lead the troop back home. We have just -seen an instance of it. Seven penetrated to the interior of the vase and climbed the -palm. True, it was an attempt with no result, but still an attempt. For complete success, -all that need be done would have been to take the <span class="pageNum" id="pb82">[<a href="#pb82">82</a>]</span>opposite slope. An even chance is a great thing. Another time we shall be more successful. -</p> -<p>In the second place, the exhaustion due to fatigue and hunger. A lame one stops, unable -to go farther. In front of the defaulter the procession still continues to wend its -way for a short time. The ranks close up and an empty space appears. On coming to -himself and resuming the march, the caterpillar who has caused the breach becomes -a leader, having nothing before him. The least desire for emancipation is all that -he wants to make him launch the band into a new path which perhaps will be the saving -path. -</p> -<p>In short, when the Processionaries’ train is in difficulties, what it needs, unlike -ours, is to run off the rails. The side-tracking is left to the caprice of a leader -who alone is capable of turning to the right or left; and this leader is absolutely -non-existent so long as the ring remains unbroken. Lastly, the breaking of the circle, -the one stroke of luck, is the result of a chaotic halt, caused principally by excess -of fatigue or cold. -</p> -<p>The liberating accident, especially that of fatigue, occurs fairly often. In the course -of <span class="pageNum" id="pb83">[<a href="#pb83">83</a>]</span>the same day, the moving circumference is cut up several times into two or three sections; -but continuity soon returns and no change takes place. Things go on just the same. -The bold innovator who is to save the situation has not yet had his inspiration. -</p> -<p>There is nothing new on the fourth day, after an icy night like the previous one; -nothing to tell except the following detail. Yesterday I did not remove the trace -left by the few caterpillars who made their way to the inside of the vase. This trace, -together with a junction connecting it with the circular road, is discovered in the -course of the morning. Half the troop takes advantage of it to visit the earth in -the pot and climb the palm; the other half remains on the ledge and continues to walk -along the old rail. In the afternoon the band of emigrants rejoins the others, the -circuit is completed and things return to their original condition. -</p> -<p>We come to the fifth day. The night frost becomes more intense, without however as -yet reaching the greenhouse. It is followed by bright sunshine in a calm and limpid -sky. As soon as the sun’s rays have warmed the panes a little, the caterpillars, lying -in <span class="pageNum" id="pb84">[<a href="#pb84">84</a>]</span>heaps, wake up and resume their evolutions on the ledge of the vase. This time the -fine order of the beginning is disturbed and a certain disorder becomes manifest, -apparently an omen of deliverance near at hand. The scouting-path inside the vase, -which was upholstered in silk yesterday and the day before, is to-day followed to -its origin on the rim by a part of the band and is then abandoned after a short loop. -The other caterpillars follow the usual ribbon. The result of this bifurcation is -two almost equal files, walking along the ledge in the same direction, at a short -distance from each other, sometimes meeting, separating farther on, in every case -with some lack of order. -</p> -<p>Weariness increases the confusion. The crippled, who refuse to go on, are many. Breaches -increase; files are split up into sections each of which has its leader, who pokes -the front of his body this way and that to explore the ground. Everything seems to -point to the disintegration which will bring safety. My hopes are once more disappointed. -Before the night the single file is reconstituted and the invincible gyration resumed. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb85">[<a href="#pb85">85</a>]</span></p> -<p>Heat comes, just as suddenly as the cold did. To-day, the 4th of February, is a beautiful, -mild day. The greenhouse is full of life. Numerous festoons of caterpillars, issuing -from the nests, meander along the sand on the shelf. Above them, at every moment, -the ring on the ledge of the vase breaks up and comes together again. For the first -time I see daring leaders who, drunk with heat, standing only on their hinder prolegs -at the extreme edge of the earthenware rim, fling themselves forward into space, twisting -about, sounding the depths. The endeavour is frequently repeated, while the whole -troop stops. The caterpillars’ heads give sudden jerks; their bodies wriggle. -</p> -<p>One of the pioneers decides to take the plunge. He slips under the ledge. Four follow -him. The others, still confiding in the perfidious silken path, dare not copy him -and continue to go along the old road. -</p> -<p>The short string detached from the general chain gropes about a great deal, hesitates -long on the side of the vase; it goes half-way down, then climbs up again slantwise, -rejoins and takes its place in the procession. This time the attempt has failed, though -at the foot of <span class="pageNum" id="pb86">[<a href="#pb86">86</a>]</span>the vase, not nine inches away, there lay a bunch of pine-needles which I had placed -there with the object of enticing the hungry ones. Smell and sight told them nothing. -Near as they were to the goal, they went up again. -</p> -<p>No matter, the endeavour has its uses. Threads were laid on the way and will serve -as a lure to further enterprise. The road of deliverance has its first landmarks. -And two days later, on the eighth day of the experiment, the caterpillars—now singly, -anon in small groups, then again in strings of some length—come down from the ledge -by following the staked-out path. At sunset the last of the laggards is back in the -nest. -</p> -<p>Now for a little arithmetic. For seven times twenty-four hours the caterpillars have -remained on the ledge of the vase. To make an ample allowance for stops due to the -weariness of this one or that and above all for the rest taken during the colder hours -of the night, we will deduct one-half of the time. This leaves eighty-four hours’ -walking. The average pace is nine centimetres<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e896src" href="#xd31e896">4</a> a minute. <span class="pageNum" id="pb87">[<a href="#pb87">87</a>]</span>The aggregate distance covered, therefore, is 453 metres, a good deal more than a -quarter of a mile, which is a great walk for these little crawlers. The circumference -of the vase, the perimeter of the track, is exactly 1 m. 35.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e902src" href="#xd31e902">5</a> Therefore the circle covered, always in the same direction and always without result, -was described three hundred and thirty-five times. -</p> -<p>These figures surprise me, though I am already familiar with the abysmal stupidity -of insects as a class whenever the least accident occurs. I feel inclined to ask myself -whether the Processionaries were not kept up there so long by the difficulties and -dangers of the descent rather than by the lack of any gleam of intelligence in their -benighted minds. The facts, however, reply that the descent is as easy as the ascent. -</p> -<p>The caterpillar has a very supple back, well adapted for twisting round projections -or slipping underneath. He can walk with the same ease vertically or horizontally, -with his back down or up. Besides, he never moves forward until he has fixed his thread -to the ground. With this support to his feet, he <span class="pageNum" id="pb88">[<a href="#pb88">88</a>]</span>has no falls to fear, no matter what his position. -</p> -<p>I had a proof of this before my eyes during a whole week. As I have already said, -the track, instead of keeping on one level, bends twice, dips at a certain point under -the ledge of the vase and reappears at the top a little farther on. At one part of -the circuit, therefore, the procession walks on the lower surface of the rim; and -this inverted position implies so little discomfort or danger that it is renewed at -each turn for all the caterpillars from first to last. -</p> -<p>It is out of the question then to suggest the dread of a false step on the edge of -the rim which is so nimbly turned at each point of inflexion. The caterpillars in -distress, starved, shelterless, chilled with cold at night, cling obstinately to the -silk ribbon covered hundreds of times, because they lack the rudimentary glimmers -of reason which would advice them to abandon it. -</p> -<p>Experience and reflection are not in their province. The ordeal of a five hundred -yards’ march and three to four hundred turns teach them nothing; and it takes casual -circumstances to bring them back to the nest. They <span class="pageNum" id="pb89">[<a href="#pb89">89</a>]</span>would perish on their insidious ribbon if the disorder of the nocturnal encampments -and the halts due to fatigue did not cast a few threads outside the circular path. -Some three or four move along these trails, laid without an object, stray a little -way and, thanks to their wanderings, prepare the descent, which is at last accomplished -in short strings favoured by chance. -</p> -<p>The school most highly honoured to-day is very anxious to find the origin of reason -in the dregs of the animal kingdom. Let me call its attention to the Pine Processionary. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb90">[<a href="#pb90">90</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e732"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e732src">1</a></span> Book IV., chap. viii.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e732src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e818"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e818src">2</a></span> Jean Buridan (<i>circa 1300–circa 1360</i>), a famous scholastic doctor, who was several times rector of the university of Paris -and subsequently founded the university of Vienna. He forms the subject of many legends, -including that of the argument known by his name, of which no trace is to be found -in any of his works.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e818src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e839"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e839src">3</a></span> 3½ inches.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e839src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e896"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e896src">4</a></span> 3½ inches.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e896src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e902"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e902src">5</a></span> 4 feet 5 inches.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e902src" title="Return to note 5 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch4" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e214">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label">CHAPTER IV</h2> -<h2 class="main">THE PINE PROCESSIONARY: METEOROLOGY</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">In January a second moult occurs, leaving the caterpillar less fair to the eye, while -at the same time endowing him with some very peculiar organs. When the moment has -come to shed their skins, the Processionaries cluster higgledy-piggledy on the dome -of the nest and there, if the weather be mild, remain motionless day and night. It -would seem as though the fact of their contact, of their mutual discomfort, while -thus heaped together, furnishes a resistance, a fulcrum, which favours the process -of excoriation. -</p> -<p>After this second moult, the hairs on the middle of the back are of a dull reddish -colour, which is made paler still by the interposition of numerous long white hairs. -But this faded costume is accompanied by the singular organs which attracted the attention -of Réaumur, who was greatly perplexed as to their function. In the place originally -occupied by the scarlet mosaic, eight segments of the caterpillar are now cleft by -a broad <span class="pageNum" id="pb91">[<a href="#pb91">91</a>]</span>transversal gash, a sort of thick-lipped mouth, which opens and gapes wide at the -caterpillar’s will, or closes without leaving a visible trace. -</p> -<p>From each of these expanding mouths rises a tumour with a fine, colourless skin, as -though the creature were exposing its tender inside and inflating it, for the appearance -is almost that which would be presented by the viscera protruding through skin incised -by the scalpel. Two large dark-brown dots occupy the front face of the protuberance. -At the back are two short, flat tufts of russet bristles, which in the sunlight shine -with a rich brilliancy. All around is a radiating border of long white hairs, spread -almost flat. -</p> -<p>This protuberance is extremely sensitive. At the slightest irritation it goes in again -and disappears under the dark integument. In its place opens an oval crater, a sort -of huge stoma, which swiftly brings its lips together, closes and entirely disappears. -The long white hairs that form a moustache and imperial around this mouth follow the -movements of the contracting lips. After first radiating from a centre and lying flat, -these hairs rise like levelled wheat which the wind <span class="pageNum" id="pb92">[<a href="#pb92">92</a>]</span>has caught from beneath and meet to form a transversal crest, perpendicular to the -creature’s back. -</p> -<p>This hairy erection produces a sudden modification in the caterpillar’s aspect. The -red shiny bristles have disappeared, buried under the dark skin; the white hairs, -now standing on end, form a hirsute mane; an ashy tinge has crept into the general -colour of the costume. -</p> -<p>When calm is restored, as soon happens, the slits open and yawn afresh; the sensitive -protuberances emerge, quick to disappear once more should any cause for alarm occur. -These alternate expansions and contractions are rapidly repeated. I provoke them at -will in various ways. A slight puff of tobacco-smoke immediately causes the stomata -to yawn and the protuberances to emerge. One would think that the insect was putting -itself on its guard and displaying some special apparatus of information. Before long -the protuberances go in again. A second puff of smoke brings them out once more. But, -if the smoke is too abundant, too acrid, the caterpillar wriggles and writhes without -opening his apparatus. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb93">[<a href="#pb93">93</a>]</span></p> -<p>Or else I touch one or other of these uncovered protuberances, very delicately, with -a bit of straw. The pimple affected immediately contracts, draws into itself, like -the horns of the Snail, and is replaced by a gaping mouth, which in its turn closes. -Usually, but not always, the segment excited by the contact of my straw is imitated -by the others, both front and back, which close their apparatus one by one. -</p> -<p>When undisturbed and in repose, the caterpillar generally has his dorsal slits expanded; -in moving, he sometimes opens and sometimes closes them. In either case expansion -and contraction are frequently repeated. Constantly coming together and retreating -under the skin, the lips of the mouth-like opening therefore end by losing their brittle -moustaches of russet hairs, which break off. In this way a sort of dust collects at -the bottom of the crater, a dust formed of broken hairs, which, thanks to their barbs, -soon collect into little tufts. When the slit expands rather suddenly, the central -projection shoots out on the insect’s sides its load of hairy remnants, which the -least breath blows into a cloud of golden atoms highly disagreeable to the observer. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb94">[<a href="#pb94">94</a>]</span>I shall have something to say presently of the itch to which he is at such times exposed. -</p> -<p>Are these peculiar stomata designed merely to collect the adjoining bristles and to -grind them to powder? Are these fine-skinned papillæ, which inflate and ascend from -the depths of their hiding-place, intended to get rid of the accumulation of broken -hairs? Or is it the sole function of this peculiar apparatus to prepare, at the expense -of the caterpillar’s fleece, an irritant dust which shall act as a means of defence? -Nothing tells us so. -</p> -<p>Certainly the caterpillar is not armed against the enquirer who from time to time -takes it into his head to come and examine him through a magnifying-glass. It is even -very doubtful whether he troubles at all about those passionate caterpillar-lovers, -<i lang="la">Calosoma sycophanta</i><a class="noteRef" id="xd31e951src" href="#xd31e951">1</a> among insects and the Cuckoo among birds. Those who consume such fare have a stomach -expressly fashioned for the purpose, a stomach that laughs at blistering hairs and -possibly finds an appetizing stimulant in their sting. No, I do not see the motives -that prompted the Processionary to <span class="pageNum" id="pb95">[<a href="#pb95">95</a>]</span>cleave his back with so many slits, if he merely strips himself of his hair to throw -an irritating dust in our eyes. There must certainly be something else in question. -</p> -<p>Réaumur mentions these openings, of which he made a brief study. He calls them stigmata -and is inclined to take them for exceptional breathing-holes. That they are not, O -my master; no insect contrives air-holes on its back! Moreover, the magnifying-glass -reveals no channel of communication with the interior. Respiration plays no part here; -the solution of the enigma must lie elsewhere. -</p> -<p>The protuberances that rise from those expanded cavities are formed of a soft, pale, -hairless membrane, which gives the impression of a visceral hernia, as though the -caterpillar were wounded and exposing its delicate entrails to the air. The sensitiveness -just here is great. The lightest touch with the point of a hair-pencil causes the -immediate indrawing of the protuberances and the closing of the containing lips. -</p> -<p>The touch of a solid object even is not essential. I pick up a tiny drop of water -on the point of a pin and, without shaking it off, present this drop to the sensitive -projection. <span class="pageNum" id="pb96">[<a href="#pb96">96</a>]</span>At the moment when contact occurs the apparatus contracts and closes up. The recoil -of the Snail’s horns, withdrawing the visual and olfactory organs into their sheaths, -is no prompter. -</p> -<p>Everything seems to prove that these optional tumours, appearing and disappearing -at the caterpillar’s will, are instruments of sensorial perception. The caterpillar -exposes them to obtain information; he shelters them under his skin to preserve their -delicate functions. Now what is it that they perceive? This is a difficult question, -in which the habits of the Processionary alone can afford us a little guidance. -</p> -<p>During the whole winter, the Pine Caterpillars are active only at night. In the daytime, -when the weather is fine, they readily repair to the dome of the nest and there remain -motionless, gathered into heaps. It is the hour of the open-air siesta, under the -pale December and January sun. As yet none leaves the home. It is quite late in the -evening, towards nine o’clock, when they set out, marching in an irregular procession, -to browse on the leaves of the branches hard by. Their grazing is a protracted affair. -The flock returns <span class="pageNum" id="pb97">[<a href="#pb97">97</a>]</span>late, some time after midnight, when the temperature falls too low. -</p> -<p>Secondly, it is in the heart of winter, during the roughest months, that the Processionary -displays his full activity. Indefatigably at this time of year he spins, adding each -night a new web to his silken tent; at this time, whenever the weather permits, he -ventures abroad on the neighbouring boughs to feed, to grow and to renew his skein -of silk. -</p> -<p>By a very remarkable exception, the harsh season marked by inactivity and lethargic -repose in other insects is for him the season of bustle and labour, on condition, -of course, that the inclemencies of the weather do not exceed certain limits. If the -north wind blow too violently, so that it is like to sweep the flock away; if the -cold be too piercing, so that there is a risk of freezing to death; if it snow, or -rain, or if the mist thicken into an icy drizzle, the caterpillars prudently stay -at home, sheltering under their weatherproof tent. -</p> -<p>It would be convenient to some extent to foresee these inclemencies. The caterpillar -dreads them. A drop of rain sets him in a flutter; a snowflake exasperates him. To -<span class="pageNum" id="pb98">[<a href="#pb98">98</a>]</span>start for the grazing-grounds at dark of night, in uncertain weather, would be dangerous, -for the procession goes some distance and travels slowly. The flock would fare ill -before regaining shelter did any sudden atmospheric trouble supervene, an event of -some frequency in the bad season of the year. So that he may be informed in this particular -during his nocturnal winter rambles, can the Pine Caterpillar be endowed with some -sort of meteorological aptitudes? Let us describe how the suspicion occurred to me. -</p> -<p>Divulged I know not how, my rearing of caterpillars under glass acquired a certain -renown. It was talked about in the village. The forest-ranger, a sworn enemy to destructive -insects, wanted to see the grazing of the famous caterpillars, of whom he had retained -a too poignant memory ever since the day when he gathered and destroyed their nests -in a pine-wood under his charge. It was arranged that he should call the same evening. -</p> -<p>He arrives at the appointed hour, accompanied by a friend. For a moment we sit and -chat in front of the fire; then, when the clock strikes nine, the lantern is lit and -we <span class="pageNum" id="pb99">[<a href="#pb99">99</a>]</span>all three enter the greenhouse. The visitors are eager for the spectacle of which -they have heard such wonderful things, while I am certain of satisfying their curiosity. -</p> -<p>But, but … what is this? Not a caterpillar on the nests, not one on the fresh ration -of branches! Last night and on the previous nights they came out in countless numbers; -to-night not one reveals himself. Can it be that they are merely late in going to -dinner? Can their habitual punctuality be at fault because appetite has not yet arrived? -We must be patient.… Ten o’clock. Nothing. Eleven. Still nothing. Midnight was at -hand when we abandoned our watch, convinced that it would be vain to prolong the sitting. -You can imagine what an abject fool I looked at having thus to send my guests away. -</p> -<p>Next day I thought that I dimly perceived the explanation of this disappointment. -It rained in the night and again in the morning. Snow, not the earliest of the year, -but so far the most abundant, whitened the brow of the Ventoux.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e983src" href="#xd31e983">2</a> Had the caterpillars, more <span class="pageNum" id="pb100">[<a href="#pb100">100</a>]</span>sensitive than any of us to atmospheric changes, refused to venture forth because -they anticipated what was about to happen? Had they foreseen the rain and the snow, -which nothing seemed to announce, at all events to us? After all, why not? Let us -continue to observe them and we shall see whether the coincidence is fortuitous or -not. -</p> -<p>On this memorable day, therefore, the 13th of December, 1895, I institute the caterpillars’ -meteorological observatory. I have at my disposal absolutely none of the apparatus -dear to science, not even a modest thermometer, for my unlucky star continues in the -ascendant, proving as unkind to-day as when I learnt chemistry with pipe-bowls for -crucibles and bottles that once contained sweets for retorts. I confine myself to -visiting nightly the Processionaries in the greenhouse and those in the garden. It -is a hard task, especially as I have to go to the far end of the enclosure, often -in weather when one would not turn a Dog out of doors. I set down the acts of the -caterpillars, whether they come out or stay at home; I note the state of the sky during -the day and at the moment of my evening examination. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb101">[<a href="#pb101">101</a>]</span></p> -<p>To this list I add the meteorological chart of Europe which the <i lang="fr">Temps</i> publishes daily. If I want more precise data, I request the Normal School at Avignon -to send me, on occasions of violent disturbances, the barometrical records of its -observatory. These are the only documents at my disposal. -</p> -<p>Before we come to the results obtained, let me once more repeat that my caterpillars’ -meteorological institute has two stations: one in the greenhouse and one in the open -air, on the pines in the enclosure. The first, protected against the wind and rain, -is that which I prefer: it provides more regular and more continuous information. -In fact, the open-air caterpillars often enough refuse to come out, even though the -general conditions be favourable. It is enough to keep them at home if there be too -strong a wind shaking the boughs, or even a little moisture dripping on the web of -the nests. Saved from these two perils, the greenhouse caterpillars have only to consider -atmospheric incidents of a higher order. The small variations escape them; the great -alone make an impression on them: a most useful point for the observer and going a -long way towards solving the <span class="pageNum" id="pb102">[<a href="#pb102">102</a>]</span>problem for him. The colonies under glass, therefore, provide most of the material -for my notes; the colonies in the open air add their testimony, which is not always -quite clear. -</p> -<p>Now what did they tell me, those greenhouse caterpillars who, on the 13th of December, -refused to show themselves to my guest, the forest-ranger? The rain that was to fall -that night could hardly have alarmed them: they were so well sheltered. The snow about -to whiten Mont Ventoux was nothing to them: it was so far away. Moreover, it was neither -snowing yet nor raining. Some extraordinary atmospheric event, profound and of vast -extent, must have been occurring. The charts in the <i lang="fr">Temps</i> and the bulletin of the Normal School told me as much. -</p> -<p>A cyclonic disturbance, coming from the British Isles, was passing over our district; -an atmospheric depression the like of which the season had not as yet known, had spread -in our direction, reaching us on the 13th and persisting, in a more or less accentuated -form, until the 22nd. At Avignon the barometer suddenly fell half an inch, to 29.1 -in., on the 13th and lower still, to 29 in., on the 19th. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb103">[<a href="#pb103">103</a>]</span></p> -<p>During this period of ten days, the garden caterpillars made no sortie on the pine-trees. -True, the weather was changeable. There were a few showers of fine rain and some violent -gusts of the mistral; but more frequently there were days and nights when the sky -was superb and the temperature moderate. The prudent anchorites would not allow themselves -to be caught. The low pressure persisted, menacing them; and so they stopped at home. -</p> -<p>In the greenhouse things happen rather differently. Sorties take place, but the staying-in -days are still more numerous. It looks as though the caterpillars, alarmed at first -by the unexpected things happening overhead, had reassured themselves and resumed -work, feeling nothing, in their shelter, of what they would have suffered out of doors—rain, -snow and furious mistral blasts—and had then suspended their work again when the threats -of bad weather increased. -</p> -<p>There is, indeed, a fairly accurate agreement between the oscillations of the barometer -and the decisions of the herd. When the column of mercury rises a little, they come -out; when it falls they remain at home. Thus <span class="pageNum" id="pb104">[<a href="#pb104">104</a>]</span>on the 19th, the night of the lowest pressure, 29 in., not a caterpillar ventures -outside. -</p> -<p>As the wind and rain can have no effect on my colonies under glass, one is led to -suppose that atmospheric pressure, with its physiological results, so difficult to -define, is here the principal factor. As for the temperature, within moderate limits -there is no need to discuss it. The Processionaries have a robust constitution, as -behoves spinners who work in the open air in midwinter. However piercing the cold, -so long as it does not freeze, when the hour comes for working or feeding they spin -on the surface of the nest or browse on the neighbouring branches. -</p> -<p>Another example. According to the meteorological chart in the <i lang="fr">Temps</i>, a depression whose centre is near the Iles Sanguinaires, at the entrance of the -Gulf of Ajaccio, reaches my neighbourhood, with a minimum of 29.2 in., on the 9th -of January. A tempestuous wind gets up. For the first time this year there is a respectable -frost. The ice on the large pond in the garden is two or three inches thick. This -wild weather lasts for five days. Of course, the garden caterpillars do not <span class="pageNum" id="pb105">[<a href="#pb105">105</a>]</span>sally forth on the pine-trees while these are battered by such a gale. -</p> -<p>The remarkable part of the business is that the greenhouse caterpillars do not venture -out of their nests either. And yet for them there are no boughs dangerously shaken, -no cold piercing beyond endurance, for it is not freezing under the glass. What keeps -them in can be only the passage of that wave of depression. On the 15th the storm -ceases; and the barometer remains between 29.6 and 30 in. for the rest of the month -and a good part of February. During this long period there are magnificent sorties -every evening, especially in the greenhouse. -</p> -<p>On the 23rd and 24th of February, suddenly the Processionaries stop at home again, -for no apparent reason. Of the six nests under cover, only two have a few rare caterpillars -out on the pine-branches, while previously, in the case of all six, I used every night -to see the leaves bending under the weight of an innumerable multitude. Warned by -this forecast, I enter in my notes: -</p> -<p>“Some deep depression is about to reach us.” -</p> -<p>And I have guessed right. Two days later, <span class="pageNum" id="pb106">[<a href="#pb106">106</a>]</span>sure enough, the meteorological record of the <i lang="fr">Temps</i> gives me the following information: a minimum of 29.2 in., coming from the Bay of -Biscay on the 22nd, reaches Algeria on the 23rd and spreads over the Provence coast -on the 24th. There is a heavy snowfall at Marseilles on the 25th. -</p> -<blockquote> -<p class="first">“The ships,” I read in my paper, “present a curious spectacle, with their yards and -rigging white. That is how the people of Marseilles, little used to such sights, picture -Spitzbergen and the North Pole.”</p> -</blockquote><p> -</p> -<p>Here certainly is the gale which my caterpillars foresaw when they refused to go out -last night and the night before; here is the centre of disturbance which revealed -itself at Sérignan by a violent and icy north wind on the 25th and the following days. -Again I perceive that the greenhouse caterpillars are alarmed only at the approach -of the wave of atmospheric disturbance. Once the first uneasiness caused by the depression -had abated, they came out again, on the 25th and the following days, in the midst -of the gale, as though nothing extraordinary were happening. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb107">[<a href="#pb107">107</a>]</span></p> -<p>From the sum of my observations it appears that the Pine Processionary is eminently -sensitive to atmospheric vicissitudes, an excellent quality, having regard to his -way of life in the sharp winter nights. He foresees the storm which would imperil -his excursions. -</p> -<p>His capacity for scenting bad weather very soon won the confidence of the household. -When we had to go into Orange to renew our provisions, it became the rule to consult -him the night before; and, according to his verdict, we went or stayed at home. His -oracle never deceived us. In the same way, simple folk that we were, we used in the -old days to interrogate the Dor-beetle,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1045src" href="#xd31e1045">3</a> another doughty nocturnal worker. But, a little demoralized by imprisonment in a -cage and apparently devoid of any special sensitive apparatus, performing his evolutions, -moreover, in the mild autumn evenings, the celebrated Dung-beetle could never rival -the Pine Caterpillar, who is active during the roughest season of the year and endowed, -as everything <span class="pageNum" id="pb108">[<a href="#pb108">108</a>]</span>would seem to affirm, with organs quick to perceive the great atmospheric fluctuations. -</p> -<p>Rural lore abounds in meteorological forecasts derived from animals. The Cat, sitting -in front of the fire and washing behind her ears with a saliva-smeared paw, foretells -another cold snap; the Cock, crowing at unusual hours, announces the return of fine -weather; the Guinea-fowl, with her screeching, as of a scythe on the grindstone, points -to rain; the Hen, standing on one leg, her plumage ruffled, her head sunk on her neck, -feels a hard frost coming; the pretty green Tree-frog inflates his throat like a bladder -at the approach of a storm and, according to the Provençal peasant, says: -</p> -<p>“<i lang="fr">Ploùra, ploùra</i>; it will rain, it will rain!” -</p> -<p>This rustic meteorology, the heritage of the centuries, does not show up so badly -beside our scientific meteorology. -</p> -<p>Are not we ourselves living barometers? Every veteran complains of his glorious scars -when the weather is about to break. One man, though unwounded, suffers from insomnia -or from bad dreams; another, though a brain-worker, cannot drag an idea out of his -impotent head. Each of us, in <span class="pageNum" id="pb109">[<a href="#pb109">109</a>]</span>his own way, is tried by the passage of those huge funnels which form in the atmosphere -and hatch the storm. -</p> -<p>Could the insect, with its exceptionally delicate organization, escape this kind of -impression? It is unbelievable. The insect, more than any other creature, should be -an animated meteorological instrument, as truthful in its forecasts, if we knew how -to read them, as the lifeless instruments of our observatories, with their mercury -and their catgut. All, in different degrees, possess a general impressionability analogous -to our own and exercised without the aid of specific organs. Some, better-gifted because -of their mode of life, might well be furnished with special meteorological apparatus. -</p> -<p>The Pine Processionary seems to belong to this number. In his second costume, when -the segments bear on their dorsal faces an elegant red mosaic, he differs apparently -from other caterpillars only by a more delicate general impressionability, unless -this mosaic be endowed with aptitudes unknown elsewhere. If the nocturnal spinner -is still none too generously equipped, it must be remembered that the season which -he passes in this condition <span class="pageNum" id="pb110">[<a href="#pb110">110</a>]</span>is nearly always clement. The really formidable nights hardly set in before January. -But then, as a safeguard in his peregrinations, the Pine Processionary cleaves his -back with a series of mouths which yawn open to sample the air from time to time and -to give a warning of the sudden storm. -</p> -<p>Until further evidence is forthcoming, therefore, the dorsal slits are, to my mind, -meteorological instruments, barometers influenced by the main fluctuations of the -atmosphere. To go beyond suspicions, though these are well based, is for me impossible. -I lack the equipment necessary to delve more deeply into the subject. But I have given -a hint. It is for those who are better favoured in the matter of resources to find -the final solution of this interesting problem. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb111">[<a href="#pb111">111</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e951"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e951src">1</a></span> A large carnivorous Beetle.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e951src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e983"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e983src">2</a></span> The highest mountain in the neighbourhood of Sérignan. Cf. <i>The Hunting Wasps</i>, by J. Henri Fabre, translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: chap. xi.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e983src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e1045"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1045src">3</a></span> <i lang="la">Geotrupes stercorarius</i>, a large Dung-beetle. Cf. <i>The Life and Love of the Insect</i>, by J. Henri Fabre, translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: chap. ix<span class="corr" id="xd31e1051" title="Not in source">.</span>—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1045src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch5" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e224">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label">CHAPTER V</h2> -<h2 class="main">THE PINE PROCESSIONARY: THE MOTH</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">When March comes, the caterpillars reared in domesticity never cease processioning. -Many leave the greenhouse, which remains open; they go in search of a suitable spot -for the approaching metamorphosis. This is the final exodus, the definite abandonment -of the nest and the pine-tree. The pilgrims are much faded, whitish, with a few russet -hairs on their backs. -</p> -<p>On the 20th of March I spend a whole morning watching the evolutions of a file some -three yards in length, containing about a hundred emigrants. The procession toils -grimly along, undulating over the dusty ground, where it leaves a furrow. Then it -breaks into a small number of groups, which crowd together and remain quiescent save -for sudden oscillations of the hind-quarters. After a halt of varying duration, these -groups resume their march, henceforward forming independent processions. -</p> -<p>They take no settled direction. This one <span class="pageNum" id="pb112">[<a href="#pb112">112</a>]</span>goes forward, that one goes back; one turns to the left and another to the right. -There is no rule about their marching, no positive goal. One procession, after describing -a loop, retraces its steps. Yet there is a general tendency towards that wall of the -greenhouse which faces the south and reflects the sun’s rays with added fervour. The -sole guide, it would seem, is the amount of sun which a place obtains; the directions -whence the greatest heat comes are preferred. -</p> -<p>After a couple of hours of marching and countermarching, the fragmentary processions, -comprising each a score of caterpillars, reach the foot of the wall. Here the soil -is powdery, very dry, easy to burrow in, although made somewhat firmer by tufts of -grass. The caterpillar at the head of the row explores with his mandibles, digs a -little, investigates the nature of the ground. The others, trusting their leader, -follow him with docility, making no attempts of their own. Whatever the foremost decides -will be adopted by all. Here, in the choice of a matter so important as the spot whereat -the transformation shall take place, there is no individual initiative. There is only -one will, <span class="pageNum" id="pb113">[<a href="#pb113">113</a>]</span>the leader’s. There is only one head, so to speak; the procession may be compared -with the chain of segments of an enormous worm. -</p> -<p>Finally some spot is recognized as propitious. The leading caterpillar halts, pushes -with his head, digs with his mandibles. The others, still in a continuous line, arrive -one by one and likewise come to a halt. Then the file breaks up into a swarming heap, -in which each of the caterpillars resumes his liberty. All their backs are joggling -pell-mell; all their heads are plunged into the dust; all their feet are raking, all -their mandibles excavating the soil. The worm has chopped itself into a gang of independent -workers. -</p> -<p>An excavation is formed in which, little by little, the caterpillars bury themselves. -For some time to come, the undermined soil cracks and rises and covers itself with -little mole-hills; then all is still. The caterpillars have descended to a depth of -three inches. This is as far as the roughness of the soil permits them to go. In looser -soil, the excavation would attain a much greater depth. The greenhouse shelf, supplied -with fine sand, has provided me with cocoons placed at a depth of from eight to twelve -inches. I would not <span class="pageNum" id="pb114">[<a href="#pb114">114</a>]</span>assert that the interment might not be made still lower down. For the most part, the -burial is effected in common, by more or less numerous clusters and at depths which -vary greatly, according to the nature of the soil. -</p> -<p>A fortnight later, let us dig at the point where the descent underground was made. -Here we shall find the cocoons assembled in bunches, cocoons of sorry appearance, -soiled as they are with earthy particles held by silken threads. When stripped of -their rough exterior, they are not without a certain elegance. They are narrow ellipsoids, -pointed at both ends, measuring twenty-five millimetres in length and nine millimetres<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1099src" href="#xd31e1099">1</a> in thickness. The silk of which they are composed is very fine and of a dull white. -The fragility of the walls is remarkable when we have seen the enormous quantity of -silk expended on the construction of the nest. -</p> -<p>A prodigious spinner where his winter habitation is concerned, the caterpillar finds -his glands exhausted and is reduced to the strictly necessary amount when the time -comes for making the cocoon. Too poor in silk, he strengthens his flimsy cell with -a facing of <span class="pageNum" id="pb115">[<a href="#pb115">115</a>]</span>earth. With him it is not the industry of the Bembex<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1107src" href="#xd31e1107">2</a>, who inserts grains of sand in her silky web and makes a solid casket of the whole; -it is a summary sort of art, devoid of delicacy, which just casually sticks together -the surrounding earthy refuse. -</p> -<p>Moreover, if circumstances demand it, the Pine Caterpillar can do without earth. In -the very midst of the nest I have sometimes—very rarely, it is true—discovered cocoons -which were perfectly clean. Not a scrap of alien matter defiled their fine white silk. -I have obtained similar specimens by placing caterpillars under a bell-glass in a -pan provided only with a few pine-twigs. Better still: an entire procession, a good-sized -one too, gathered at the opportune moment and enclosed in a large box containing no -sand nor any material whatever, spun its cocoons with no other support than the bare -walls. These exceptions, provoked by circumstances in which the caterpillar is not -free to act according to his wont, does not in any way invalidate the rule. To prepare -for the transformation, the Processionary buries himself, <span class="pageNum" id="pb116">[<a href="#pb116">116</a>]</span>to the depth of nine inches and more, if the soil permit. -</p> -<p>Here a curious problem forces itself upon the observer’s mind. How does the Moth contrive -to ascend from the catacombs into which the caterpillar has descended? Not in the -finery of her perfect state—the big wings with their delicate scales, the sweeping -antenna-plumes—dare she brave the asperities of the soil, or she would issue thence -all tattered, rumpled and unrecognizable. And this is not the case: far from it. Moreover, -what means can she employ, she so feeble, to break the crust of earth into which the -original dust will have turned after the slightest of showers? -</p> -<p>The Moth appears at the end of July or in August. The burial took place in March. -Rain must have fallen during this lapse of time, rain which beats down the soil, cements -it and leaves it to harden once evaporation has set in. Never could a Moth, unless -attired and equipped with tools for the purpose, break her way through such an obstacle. -She would perforce require a boring-tool and a costume of extreme simplicity. Guided -by these considerations, I institute a few experiments <span class="pageNum" id="pb117">[<a href="#pb117">117</a>]</span>which will give me the key to the riddle. -</p> -<p>In April I make a copious collection of cocoons. Of these I place ten or twelve at -the bottom of test-tubes of different diameters and, last of all, I fill the apparatus -with sandy soil, sifted and very slightly moistened. The contents are pressed down, -but in moderation, for fear of injuring the cocoons below. When the month of August -comes, the column of earth, damp at the outset, has set so firmly, thanks to evaporation, -that, when I reverse the test-tube, nothing trickles out. On the other hand, some -cocoons have been kept naked under a metallic cover. These will teach me what the -buried cocoons would not be able to show. They furnish me, in fact, with records of -the greatest interest. On issuing from the cocoon, the Pine Bombyx has her finery -bundled up and presents the appearance of a cylinder with rounded ends. The wings, -the principal obstacle to underground labour, are pressed against the breast like -narrow scarves; the antennæ, another serious embarrassment, have not yet unfolded -their plumes and are turned back along the Moth’s sides. The hair, which later forms -a dense <span class="pageNum" id="pb118">[<a href="#pb118">118</a>]</span>fleece, is laid flat, pointing backwards. The legs alone are free, fairly active and -endowed with a certain vigour. Thanks to this arrangement, which does away with all -awkward projections, the ascent through the soil is made possible. -</p> -<p>True, every Moth, at the moment of quitting her shell, is this sort of swathed mummy; -but the Pine Bombyx has in addition an exceptional aptitude rendered necessary by -the fact that she hatches under the ground. While the others, once out of the cocoon, -hasten to spread their wings and are powerless to defer their development, she, by -virtue of an indispensable privilege, remains in her compact and wrapped-up condition -as long as circumstances demand it. Under my bell-glasses I see some who, though born -upon the surface, for twenty-four hours drag themselves over the sand or cling to -the pine-branches, before untying their sashes and unfurling them as wings. -</p> -<p>This delay is evidently essential. To ascend from beneath the earth and reach the -open air, the Moth has to bore a long tunnel, which requires time. She will take good -care not to spread her finery before emerging, <span class="pageNum" id="pb119">[<a href="#pb119">119</a>]</span>for it would hamper her and would itself be rumpled and badly creased. Therefore the -cylindrical mummy persists until the deliverance is effected; and, if liberty happen -to be acquired before the appointed moment, the final evolution does not take place -until after a lapse of time in conformity with usage. -</p> -<p>We are acquainted with the equipment for emergence, the tight-fitting jerkin indispensable -in a narrow gallery. Now, where is the boring-tool? The legs, though free, would here -be insufficient: they would scrape the earth laterally, enlarging the diameter of -the shaft, but could not prolong the exit vertically, above the insect’s head. This -tool must be in front. -</p> -<p>Pass the tip of your finger over the Moth’s head. You will feel a few very rough wrinkles. -The magnifying-glass shows us more. We find, between the eyes and higher up, four -or five transversal scales, so set as to overlap one another; they are hard and black -and are trimmed crescent-wise at the ends. The longest and strongest is the uppermost, -which is in the middle of the forehead. <span class="pageNum" id="pb120">[<a href="#pb120">120</a>]</span>There you have the centre-bit of your boring-tool. -</p> -<p>To make our tunnels in granitic rocks we tip our drills with diamond points. For a -similar task the Bombyx, a living drill, wears implanted on her forehead a row of -crescents, hard and durable as steel, a regular twist-bit. Without suspecting its -use, Réaumur was perfectly aware of this marvellous implement, which he called scaly -stairs: -</p> -<p>“What does it profit this Moth,” he asks, “that she should thus have the front of -her head formed like scaly stairs? That is just what I do not know.” -</p> -<p>My test-tubes, learned master, will tell us. By good fortune, of the numerous Moths -ascending from the bottom of my apparatus through a column of sand solidified by the -evaporation of the original moisture, some are making their way upwards against the -side of the tube, enabling me to follow their manœuvres. I see them raising their -cylindrical bodies, butting with their heads, jerking now in one direction, now in -another. The nature of their task is obvious. The centre-bits, with an alternating -movement, are boring into the agglutinated sand. The powdery wreckage <span class="pageNum" id="pb121">[<a href="#pb121">121</a>]</span>trickles down from overhead and is at once thrust backward by the legs. A little space -forms at the top of the vault; and the Moth moves so much nearer to the surface. By -the following day, the whole column, ten inches in height, will be perforated with -a straight, perpendicular shaft. -</p> -<p>Shall we now form an idea of the total work performed? Let us turn the test-tube upside -down. The contents, as I have said, will not fall out, for they have set into a block; -but from the tunnels bored by the Moth trickles all the sand crumbled by the crescents -of the drill. The result is a cylindrical gallery, of the width of a lead-pencil, -very cleanly cut and reaching to the bottom of the solid mass. -</p> -<p>Are you satisfied, my master? Do you now perceive the great utility of the scaly stairs? -Would you not say that we have here a magnificent example of an instrument superlatively -fitted for a definite task? I share this opinion, for I think, with you, that a sovereign -Reason has in all things coordinated the means and the end. -</p> -<p>But let me tell you: we are called old-fashioned, you and I; with our conception of -<span class="pageNum" id="pb122">[<a href="#pb122">122</a>]</span>a world ruled by an Intelligence, we are quite out of the swim. Order, balance, harmony: -that is all silly nonsense. The universe is a fortuitous arrangement in the chaos -of the possible. What is white might as easily be black, what is round might be angular, -what is regular might be shapeless and harmony might just as well be discord. Chance -has decided all things. -</p> -<p>Yes, we are a pair of prejudiced old fogeys when we linger with a certain fondness -over the marvels of perfection. Who troubles about these futilities nowadays? So-called -serious science, the science which spells honour, profit and renown, consists in slicing -your animal with very costly instruments into tiny circular sections. My housekeeper -does as much with a bunch of carrots, with no higher <span class="corr" id="xd31e1152" title="Source: pretention">pretension</span> than to concoct a modest dish, which is not an invariable success. In the problem -of life are we more successful when we have split a fibre into four and cut a cell -into shavings? It hardly seems so. The riddle is as dark as ever. Ah, how much better -is your method, my dear master; above all, how much loftier your philosophy, how much -more wholesome and invigorating! -<span class="pageNum" id="pb123">[<a href="#pb123">123</a>]</span></p> -<p>Here at last is the Moth at the surface. With the deliberate slowness demanded by -so delicate an operation, she spreads her bunched wings, extends her antennæ and puffs -out her fleece. Her costume is a modest one: upper wings grey, striped with a few -crinkly brown streaks; under-wings white; thorax covered with thick grey fur; abdomen -clad in bright-russet velvet. The last segment has a pale-gold sheen. At first sight -it appears bare. It is not, however; but, in place of hairs like those of the other -segments, it has, on its dorsal surface, scales so well assembled and so close together -that the whole seems to form a continuous block, like a nugget. -</p> -<p>Let us touch this trinket with the point of a needle. However gently we rub, a multitude -of scales come off and flutter at the least breath, shining like mica spangles. Their -concave form, their shape, an elongated oval, their colouring, white in the lower -half but reddish gold in the upper, give them, if we allow for the difference in size, -a certain resemblance to the scales surrounding the heads of some of the centaury -tribe. Such is the golden fleece of which the mother will despoil herself in order -to cover the cylinder of <span class="pageNum" id="pb124">[<a href="#pb124">124</a>]</span>her eggs. The nugget of her hind-quarters, exfoliated spangle by spangle, will form -a roof for the germs arranged like the grain in a corn-cob. -</p> -<p>I was anxious to watch the actual placing of these pretty tiles, which are fixed at -the pale end with a speck of cement, leaving the coloured end free. Circumstances -did not favour me. Inactive all day, motionless on some needle of the lower branches, -the Moth, whose life is very short, moves only in the darkness of the night. Both -her mating and egg-laying are nocturnal. On the morrow, all is finished: the Bombyx -has lived. Under these conditions, it was impossible, by the doubtful beams of a lantern, -to follow satisfactorily the labour of the mother on the pine-trees in the garden. -</p> -<p>I was no more fortunate with the captives in my bell-glasses. A few did lay their -eggs, but always at a very advanced hour of the night, an hour which found my vigilance -at fault. The light of a candle and eyes heavy with sleep were of little avail when -it came to analysing the subtle operations of the mother as she puts her scales in -place. We <span class="pageNum" id="pb125">[<a href="#pb125">125</a>]</span>will say nothing of the little that was imperfectly seen. -</p> -<p>Let us close with a few words of sylvicultural practice. The Pine Processionary is -a voracious caterpillar who, while respecting the terminal bud, protected by its scales -and its resinous varnish, completely denudes the bough and imperils the tree by leaving -it bald. The green pine-needles, that mane in which the vegetable vigour of the tree -resides, are shorn to the roots. How are we to remedy this? -</p> -<p>When consulted on the subject, the forest-ranger of my parish told me that the custom -is to go from tree to tree with pruning-shears fitted on a long pole and to cut down -the nests, afterwards burning them. The method is a troublesome one, for the silken -purses are often at considerable heights. Moreover, it is not without danger. Attacked -by the hairy dust, the destroyers soon experience intolerable discomfort, a torture -of irritation which makes them refuse to continue the work. To my thinking it would -be better to operate before the appearance of the nests. -</p> -<p>The Pine Bombyx is a very bad flyer. Incapable of soaring, almost like the Silk-moth, -<span class="pageNum" id="pb126">[<a href="#pb126">126</a>]</span>she flutters about and blunders to earth again; and her best efforts barely succeed -in bringing her to the lower branches, which almost drag along the ground. Here are -deposited the cylinders of eggs, at a height of six feet at most. It is the young -caterpillars who, from one provisional encampment to another, gradually ascend, attaining, -stage by stage, the summits upon which they weave their final dwellings. Once we grasp -this peculiarity, the rest is plain sailing. -</p> -<p>In August we inspect the lower foliage of the tree: an easy examination, for it is -carried on no higher than our heads. Towards the far end of the twigs it is easy to -espy the Bombyx’ eggs, packed into cylinders that resemble scaly catkins. Their size -and their whitish colour make them show up amid the sombre green. Gathered with the -double pine-needle that bears them, these cylinders are crushed under foot, a summary -fashion of stamping out an evil before it spreads. -</p> -<p>This I have done in the case of the few pine-trees in my enclosure. And the same might -be done in the wider forest expanses and more especially in parks and gardens, where -symmetrical foliation is one of the <span class="pageNum" id="pb127">[<a href="#pb127">127</a>]</span>great beauties of the tree. I will add that it is wise to prune every bough that droops -to earth and to keep the foot of the conifer bare to a height of six feet or so. In -the absence of these lower stairs, the only ones that the Bombyx with her clumsy flight -can reach, she will not be able to populate the tree. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb128">[<a href="#pb128">128</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e1099"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1099src">1</a></span> .975 by .351 inch.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1099src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e1107"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1107src">2</a></span> Cf. <i>The Hunting Wasps</i>: chaps. xiv to xvii.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1107src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch6" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e234">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label">CHAPTER VI</h2> -<h2 class="main">THE PINE PROCESSIONARY: THE STINGING POWER</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">The Pine Processionary has three costumes: that of infancy, a scanty, ragged fleece, -a mixture of black and white; that of middle age, the richest of the three, when the -segments deck themselves on their dorsal surface with golden tufts and a mosaic of -bare patches, scarlet in colour; and that of maturity, when the rings are cleft by -slits which one by one open and close their thick lips, champing and grinding their -bristling russet beards and chewing them into little pellets, which are thrown out -on the creature’s sides when the bottom of the pocket swells up like a tumour. -</p> -<p>When wearing this last costume, the caterpillar is very disagreeable to handle, or -even to observe at close quarters. I happened, quite unexpectedly, to learn this more -thoroughly than I wished. -</p> -<p>After unsuspectingly passing a whole morning <span class="pageNum" id="pb129">[<a href="#pb129">129</a>]</span>with my insects, stooping over them, magnifying-glass in hand, to examine the working -of their slits, I found my forehead and eyelids suffering with redness for twenty-four -hours and afflicted with an itching even more painful and persistent than that produced -by the sting of a nettle. On seeing me come down to dinner in this sad plight, with -my eyes reddened and swollen and my face unrecognizable, the family anxiously enquired -what had happened to me and were not reassured until I told them of my mishap. -</p> -<p>I unhesitatingly attribute my painful experience to the red hairs ground to powder -and collected into flakes. My breath sought them out in the open pockets and carried -them to my face, which was very near. The unthinking intervention of my hands, which -now and again sought to ease the discomfort, merely aggravated the ill by spreading -the irritating dust. -</p> -<p>No, the search for truth on the back of the Processionary is not all sunshine. It -was only after a night’s rest that I found myself pretty well recovered, the incident -having no further ill effects. Let us continue, however. <span class="pageNum" id="pb130">[<a href="#pb130">130</a>]</span>It is well to substitute premeditated experiments for chance facts. -</p> -<p>The little pockets of which the dorsal slits form the entrance are encumbered, as -I have said, with hairy refuse, either scattered or gathered into flakes. With the -point of a paint-brush I collect, when they gape open, a little of their contents -and rub it on my wrist or on the inside of my fore-arm. -</p> -<p>I have not long to wait for the result. Soon the skin turns red and is covered with -pale lenticular swellings, similar to those produced by a nettle-sting. Without being -very sharp, the pain was extremely unpleasant. By the following day, itching, redness -and lenticular swellings had all disappeared. This is the usual sequence of events; -but let me not omit to say that the experiment does not always succeed. The efficacy -of the fluffy dust appears subject to great variations. -</p> -<p>There have been occasions when I have rubbed myself with the whole caterpillar, or -with his cast skin, or with the broken hairs gathered on a paint-brush, without producing -any unpleasant results. The irritant dust seems to vary in quality according to certain -<span class="pageNum" id="pb131">[<a href="#pb131">131</a>]</span>circumstances which I have not been able to discover. -</p> -<p>From my various tests it is evident that the discomfort is caused by the delicate -hairs which the lips of the dorsal mouths, gaping and closing again, never cease grinding, -to the detriment of their beards and moustaches. The edges of these slits, as their -bristles rub off, furnish the stinging dust. -</p> -<p>Having established this fact, let us proceed to more serious experiments. In the middle -of March, when the Processionaries for the most part have migrated underground, I -decide to open a few nests, as I wish to collect their last inhabitants for the purpose -of my investigations. Without taking any precautions, my fingers tug at the silken -dwelling, which is made of solid stuff; they tear it into shreds, search it through -and through, turn it inside out and back again. -</p> -<p>Once more and this time in a more serious fashion, I am the victim of my unthinking -enthusiasm. Hardly is the operation completed, when the tips of my fingers begin to -hurt in good earnest, especially in the more delicate part protected by the edge of -the nail. The feeling is like the sharp pain of a sore <span class="pageNum" id="pb132">[<a href="#pb132">132</a>]</span>that is beginning to fester. All the rest of the day and all through the night, the -pain persists, troublesome enough to rob me of my sleep. It does not quiet down until -the following day, after twenty-four hours of petty torment. -</p> -<p>How did this new misadventure befall me? I had not handled the caterpillars: indeed, -there were very few of them in the nest at the time. I had come upon no shed skins, -for the moults do not take place inside the silken purse. When the moment has come -to doff the second costume, that of the red mosaic, the caterpillars cluster outside, -on the dome of their dwelling, and there leave in a single heap their old clothes -entangled with bits of silk. What is left to explain the unpleasant consequences to -which the handling of the nest exposes us? -</p> -<p>The broken red bristles are left, the fallen hairs forming a dust that is invisible -without a very careful examination. For a long time the Processionaries crawl and -swarm about the nest; they pass to and fro, penetrating the thickness of the wall -when they go to the pastures and when they return to their dormitory. Whether motionless -or <span class="pageNum" id="pb133">[<a href="#pb133">133</a>]</span>on the move, they are constantly opening and closing their apparatus of information, -the dorsal mouths. At the moment of closing, the lips of these slits, rolling on each -other like the cylinders of a flattening-mill, catch hold of the fluff near them, -tear it out and break it into fragments which the bottom of the pocket, presently -reascending, shoots outside. -</p> -<p>Thus myriads of irritant particles are disseminated and subtly introduced into every -part of the nest. The shirt of Nessus burnt the veins of whoso wore it; the silk of -the Processionary, another poisoned fabric, sets on fire the fingers that handle it. -</p> -<p>The loathsome hairs long retain their virulence. I was once sorting out some handfuls -of cocoons, many of which were diseased. As the hardness of the contents was usually -an indication that something was wrong, I tore open the doubtful cocoons with my fingers, -in order to save the non-contaminated chrysalids. My sorting was rewarded with the -same kind of pain, especially under the edges of the nails, as I had already suffered -when tearing the nests. -</p> -<p>The cause of the irritation on this occasion was sometimes the dry skin discarded -by the <span class="pageNum" id="pb134">[<a href="#pb134">134</a>]</span>Processionary on becoming a chrysalis and sometimes the shrivelled caterpillar turned -into a sort of chalky cylinder through the invasion of the malignant fungus. Six months -later, these wretched cocoons were still capable of producing redness and irritation. -</p> -<p>Examined under the microscope, the russet hairs, the cause of the itching, are stiff -rods, very sharp at either end and armed with barbs along the upper half. Their structure -has absolutely nothing in common with nettle-hairs, those tapering phials whose hard -point snaps off, pouring an irritant fluid into the tiny wound. -</p> -<p>The plant from whose Latin name, <i lang="la">Urtica</i>, we derive the word urtication borrowed the design of its weapon from the fangs of -the venomous serpents; it obtains its effect, not by the wound, but by the poison -introduced into the wound. The Processionary employs a different method. The hairs, -which have naught resembling the ampullary reservoir of the nettle-hairs, must be -poisoned on the surface, like the assegais of the Kafirs and Zulus. -</p> -<p>Do they really penetrate the epidermis? Are they like the savage’s javelin, which -cannot <span class="pageNum" id="pb135">[<a href="#pb135">135</a>]</span>be extracted once it has gone in? With their barbs, do they enter all the more deeply -because of the quivering of the outraged flesh? There is no ground for believing anything -of the kind. In vain do I scrutinize the injured spot through the magnifying-glass; -I can see no sign of the implanted dart. Neither could Réaumur, when an encounter -with the Oak Processionary set him scratching himself. He had his suspicions, but -could state nothing definitely. -</p> -<p>No; despite their sharp points and their barbs, which make them, under the microscope, -such formidable spears, the Processionary’s russet hairs are not darts designed to -imbed themselves in the skin and to provoke irritation by pricking. -</p> -<p>Many caterpillars, all most inoffensive, have a coat of bristles which, under the -microscope, resolve themselves into barbed javelins, quite harmless in spite of their -threatening aspect. Let me mention a couple of these peaceable halberdiers. -</p> -<p>Early in spring, we see, crossing the paths, a briskly-moving caterpillar who inspires -<span class="corr" id="xd31e1234" title="Source: repunance">repugnance</span> by his ferocious hairiness, which ripples like ripe corn. The ancient naturalists, -with <span class="pageNum" id="pb136">[<a href="#pb136">136</a>]</span>their artless and picturesque nomenclature, called him the Hedgehog. The term is worthy -of the creature, which, in the moment of danger, rolls itself up like a Hedgehog, -presenting its spiny armour on all sides to the enemy. On its back is a dense mixture -of black hairs and hairs of ashen-gray; while on the sides and fore-part of the body -is a stiff mane of bright russet. Black, grey or russet, all this fierce-looking coat -is heavily barbed. -</p> -<p>One hesitates to touch this horror with the finger-tips. Still, encouraged by my example, -seven-year-old Paul, with his tender child’s skin, gathers handfuls of the repulsive -insect with no more apprehension than if he were picking a bunch of violets. He fills -his boxes with it; he rears it on elm-leaves and handles it daily, for he knows that -from this frightful creature he will one day obtain a superb Moth (<i lang="la">Chelonia caja</i>, <span class="sc">Linn.</span>), clad in scarlet velvet, with the lower wings red and the upper white, sprinkled -with brown spots. -</p> -<p>What resulted from the child’s familiarity with the shaggy creature? Not even a trace -of itching on his delicate skin. I do not speak of mine, which is tanned by the years. -</p> -<p>In the osier-beds of our local stream, the <span class="pageNum" id="pb137">[<a href="#pb137">137</a>]</span>rushing Aygues, a thorny shrub abounds which, at the advent of autumn, is covered -with an infinity of very sour red berries. Its crabbed boughs, which bear but little -verdure, are hidden under their clusters of vermilion balls. It is the sallow thorn -or sea buckthorn (<i lang="la">Hippophaë rhamnoides</i>). -</p> -<p>In April, a very hairy but rather pretty caterpillar lives at the expense of this -shrub’s budding leaves. He has on his back five dense tufts of hair, set side by side -and arranged like the bristles of a brush, tufts deep-black in the centre and white -at the edges. He waves two divergent plumes in front of him and sports a third on -his crupper, like a feathery tail. These three are black hair-pencils of extreme delicacy. -</p> -<p>His greyish Moth, flattened motionless on the bark, stretches his long fore-legs, -one against the other, in front of him. You would take them, at a first glance, for -antennae of exaggerated proportions. This pose of the extended limbs has won the insect -the scientific label of Orgyia, arm’s length; and also the vulgar and more expressive -denomination of <i lang="fr">Patte étendue</i>, or outstretched paw. -</p> -<p>Little Paul has not failed, with my aid, to <span class="pageNum" id="pb138">[<a href="#pb138">138</a>]</span>rear the pretty bearer of the tufts and brushes. How many times, with his sensitive -finger, has he not stroked the creature’s furry costume? He found it softer than velvet. -And yet, enlarged under the microscope, the caterpillar’s hairs are horrible barbed -spears, no less menacing than those of the Processionary. The resemblance goes no -farther: handled without precautions, the tufted caterpillar does not provoke even -a simple rash. Nothing could be more harmless than his coat. -</p> -<p>It is evident, then, that the cause of the irritation lies elsewhere than in the barbs. -If the barbed bristles were enough to poison the fingers, most hairy caterpillars -would be dangerous, for nearly all have spiny bristles. We find, on the contrary, -that virulence is bestowed upon a very small number, which are not distinguished from -the rest by any special structure of the hair. -</p> -<p>That the barbs have a part to play, that of fixing the irritant atom upon the epidermis, -of keeping it anchored in its place, is, after all, possible; but the shooting pains -cannot by any means be caused by the mere prick of so delicate a harpoon. -</p> -<p>Much less slender, the hairs clustered <span class="pageNum" id="pb139">[<a href="#pb139">139</a>]</span>into pads on the prickly pears are ferociously barbed. Woe to the fingers that handle -this kind of velvet too confidently! At the least touch they are pierced with harpoons -whose extraction involves a severe tax upon our patience. Other inconvenience there -is little or none, for the action of the barb is in this case purely mechanical. Supposing—a -very doubtful thing—that the Processionary’s hairs could penetrate our skin, they -would act likewise, only with less effect, if they had merely their sharp points and -their barbs. What then do they possess in addition? -</p> -<p>They must have, not inside them, like the hairs of the nettle, but outside, on the -surface, an irritant agent; they must be coated with a poisonous mixture, which makes -them act by simple contact. -</p> -<p>Let us remove this virus, by means of a solvent; and the Processionary’s darts, reduced -to their insignificant mechanical action, will be harmless. The solvent, on the other -hand, rid of all hairs by filtration, will be charged with the irritant element, which -we shall be able to test without the agency of the hairs. Isolated and concentrated, -the stinging element, far from losing by this treatment, <span class="pageNum" id="pb140">[<a href="#pb140">140</a>]</span>ought to gain in virulence. So reflection tells us. -</p> -<p>The solvents tried are confined to three: water, spirits of wine and sulphuric ether. -I employ the latter by preference, although the other two, spirits of wine especially, -have yielded satisfactory results. To simplify the experiment, instead of submitting -to the action of the solvent the entire caterpillar, who would complicate the extract -with his fats and his nutritive juices, I prefer to employ the cast skin alone. -</p> -<p>I therefore collect, on the one hand, the heap of dry skins which the moult of the -second phase has left on the dome of the silken dwelling and, on the other hand, the -skins which the caterpillars have rejected in their cocoons before becoming chrysalids; -and I leave the two lots to infuse, separately, in sulphuric ether for twenty-four -hours. The infusion is colourless. The liquid, carefully filtered, is exposed to spontaneous -evaporation; and the skins are rinsed with ether in the filter, several times over. -</p> -<p>There are now two tests to be made: one with the skins and one with the product of -maceration. The first is as conclusive as can <span class="pageNum" id="pb141">[<a href="#pb141">141</a>]</span>be. Hairy as in the normal state and perfectly dried, the skins of both lots, drained -by the ether, produce not the slightest effect, although I rub myself with them, without -the least caution, at the juncture of the fingers, a spot very sensitive to stinging. -</p> -<p>The hairs are the same as before the action of the solvent: they have lost none of -their barbs, of their javelin-points; and yet they are ineffectual. They produce no -pain or inconvenience whatever. Deprived of their toxic smearing, these thousands -of darts become so much harmless velvet. The Hedgehog Caterpillar and the Brush Caterpillar -are not more inoffensive. -</p> -<p>The second test is more positive and so conclusive in its painful effects that one -hardly likes to try it a second time. When the ethereal infusion is reduced by spontaneous -evaporation to a few drops, I soak in it a slip of blotting-paper folded in four, -so as to form a square measuring something over an inch. Too unsuspecting of my product, -I do things on a lavish scale, both as regards the superficial area of my poor epidermis -and the quantity of the virus. To any one who might wish to renew the investigation -I should recommend <span class="pageNum" id="pb142">[<a href="#pb142">142</a>]</span>a less generous dose. Lastly, the square of paper, that novel sort of mustard-plaster, -is applied to the under surface of the fore-arm. A thin waterproof sheeting covers -it, to prevent it from drying too rapidly; and a bandage holds it in place. -</p> -<p>For the space of ten hours, I feel nothing; then I experience an increasing itch and -a burning sensation acute enough to keep me awake for the greater part of the night. -Next day, after twenty-four hours of contact, the poultice is removed. A red mark, -slightly swollen and very clearly outlined, occupies the square which the poisoned -paper covered. -</p> -<p>The skin feels sore, as though it had been cauterized, and looks as rough as shagreen. -From each of its tiny pustules trickles a drop of serous fluid, which hardens into -a substance similar in colour to gum-arabic. This oozing continues for a couple of -days and more. Then the <span class="corr" id="xd31e1291" title="Source: inflamation">inflammation</span> abates; the pain, hitherto very trying, quiets down; the skin dries and comes off -in little flakes. All is over, except the red mark, which remains for a long time, -so tenacious in its effects is this extract of Processionary. Three weeks after the -experiment, <span class="pageNum" id="pb143">[<a href="#pb143">143</a>]</span>the little square on the fore-arm subjected to the poison is still discoloured. -</p> -<p>For thus branding one’s self, does one at least obtain some small reward? Yes. A little -truth is the balm spread upon the wound; and indeed truth is a sovran balm. It will -come presently to solace us for much greater sufferings. -</p> -<p>For the moment, this painful experiment shows us that the irritation has not as its -primary cause the hairiness of the Processionary. Here is no hair, no barb, no dart. -All of that has been retained by the filter. We have nothing now but a poisonous agent -extracted by the solvent, the ether. This irritant element recalls, to a certain extent, -that of cantharides, which acts by simple contact. My square of poisoned blotting-paper -was a sort of plaster, which, instead of raising the epidermis in great blisters, -makes it bristle with tiny pustules. -</p> -<p>The part played by the barbed hairs, those atoms which the least movement of the air -disseminates in all directions, is confined to conveying to our face and hands the -irritant substance in which they are impregnated. Their barbs hold them in place and -thus permit <span class="pageNum" id="pb144">[<a href="#pb144">144</a>]</span>the virus to act. It is even probable that, by means of slight scratches which would -otherwise pass unnoticed, they assist the action of the stinging fluid. -</p> -<p>Shortly after handling the Processionaries, a delicate epidermis becomes tumefied, -red and painful. Without being immediate, the action of the caterpillar is prompt. -The extract made with ether, on the other hand, causes pain and rubefaction only after -a longish interval. What does it need to produce more rapid ulceration? To all appearances, -the action of the hairs. -</p> -<p>The direct stinging caused by the caterpillar is nothing like so serious as that produced -by the ethereal extract concentrated in a few drops. Never before, in my most painful -misadventures, whether with the silken purses or their inhabitants, have I seen my -skin covered with serous pustules and peeling off in flakes. This time it is a veritable -sore, anything but pleasing to the eye. -</p> -<p>The aggravation is easily explained. I soaked in the ether some fifty discarded skins. -The few drops which remained after the evaporation and which were absorbed by the -square of blotting-paper represented, therefore, <span class="pageNum" id="pb145">[<a href="#pb145">145</a>]</span>the virulence of a single insect fifty times increased. My little blistering-plaster -was equivalent to the contact of fifty caterpillars at the same spot. There is no -doubt that, if we left them to steep in considerable numbers, we should obtain extracts -of really formidable strength. It is quite possible that medical science will one -day make good use of this powerful counter-irritant, which is utterly different from -cantharides. -</p> -<p>Whether voluntary victims of our curiosity, which, while affording no other satisfaction -than that of knowledge, exposes us to an intolerable itch, or sufferers through an -accident, what can we do to give a little relief to the irritation caused by the Processionary? -It is good to know the origin of the evil, but it would be better to apply a remedy. -</p> -<p>One day, with both hands sore from the prolonged examination of a nest, I try without -success lotions of alcohol, glycerine, oil and soapsuds. Nothing does any good. I -then remember a palliative employed by Réaumur against the sting of the Oak Processionary. -Without telling us how he came to know of the strange specific, the master rubbed -himself with parsley and felt a good deal the better <span class="pageNum" id="pb146">[<a href="#pb146">146</a>]</span>for it. He adds that any other leaf would probably assuage the irritation in the same -way. -</p> -<p>This is a fitting occasion for reopening the subject. Here, in a corner of the garden, -is parsley, green and abundant as one could wish. What other plant can we compare -with it? I choose the purslain, the spontaneous guest of my vegetable-beds. Mucilaginous -and fleshy as it is, it readily crushes, yielding an emollient liniment. I rub one -hand with parsley and the other with purslain, pressing hard enough to reduce the -leaves to a paste. The result deserves attention. -</p> -<p>With the parsley, the burning is a little less acute, it is true, but, though relieved, -it persists for a long time yet and continues troublesome. With the purslain, the -petty torture ceases almost at once and so completely that I no longer notice it. -My nostrum possesses incontestable virtues. I recommend it quietly, without blatant -advertisement, to any one who may be persecuted by the Processionary. Foresters, in -their war upon caterpillars’ nests, should find great relief from it. -</p> -<p>I have also obtained good results with the leaves of the tomato and the lettuce; and, -<span class="pageNum" id="pb147">[<a href="#pb147">147</a>]</span>without pursuing this botanical survey further, I remain convinced, with Réaumur, -that any tender juicy foliage would possess a certain efficacy. -</p> -<p>As for the mode of action of this specific, I admit that I do not understand it, any -more than I can perceive the mode of action of the caterpillar’s virus. Molière’s -medical student explained the soporific properties of opium by saying: -</p> -<p>“<i lang="la">Quia est in eo virtus dormitava cujus est proprietas sensus assoupire.</i>” -</p> -<p>Let us say likewise: the crushed herb calms the burning itch because it possesses -a calming virtue whose property is to assuage itching. -</p> -<p>The quip is a good deal more philosophical than it looks. What do we know of our remedies -or of anything? We perceive effects, but we cannot get back to their causes. -</p> -<p>In my village and for some distance around it, there is a popular belief that to relieve -the pain of a Wasp’s or Bee’s sting all that we need do is to rub the part stung with -three sorts of herbs. Take, they say, three kinds of herbs, the first that come to -hand, make them <span class="pageNum" id="pb148">[<a href="#pb148">148</a>]</span>into a bunch and rub hard. The prescription, by all accounts, is infallible. -</p> -<p>I thought at first that this was one of those therapeutic absurdities which have their -birth in rustic imaginations. After making a trial, I admit that what sounds like -a nonsensical remedy sometimes has something genuine about it. Friction with three -kinds of herbs does actually deaden the sting of the Wasp or Bee. -</p> -<p>I hasten to add that the same success is achieved with a single herb; and so the result -agrees with what the parsley and purslain have taught us in respect of the irritation -caused by the Processionary. -</p> -<p>Why three herbs when one is enough? Three is the preeminently lucky number; it smacks -of witchcraft, which is far from detracting from the virtues of the unguent. All rustic -medicine has a touch of magic about it; and there is merit in doing things by threes. -</p> -<p>Perhaps the specific of the three herbs may even date back to the <i lang="la">materia medica</i> of antiquity. Dioscorides recommends <span class="trans" title="triphyllon"><span lang="grc" class="grek">τρίφυλλον</span></span>: it is, he states, good for the bite of venomous serpents. To determine this celebrated -three-leaved plant exactly would not be easy. Is it <span class="pageNum" id="pb149">[<a href="#pb149">149</a>]</span>a common clover? The psoralea, with its pitchy odour? The menyanthes, or uck-bean, -that inmate of the chilly peat-bogs? The oxalis, the wood-sorrel of the country-side? -We cannot tell for certain. The botany of those days was innocent of the descriptive -conscientiousness of ours. The plant which acted as a poison-antidote grouped its -leaves by threes. That is its essential characteristic. -</p> -<p>Again the cabalistic number, essential to medical virtues as conceived by the first -healers. The peasant, a tenacious conservative, has preserved the ancient remedy, -but, by a happy inspiration, has changed the three original leaves into three different -herbs; he has elaborated the <span class="trans" title="triphyllon"><span lang="grc" class="grek">τρίφυλλον</span></span> into the threefold foliage which he crushes on the Bee’s sting. I seem to perceive -a certain relation between these artless ways and the crushing of parsley as described -by Réaumur. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb150">[<a href="#pb150">150</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch7" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e244">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label">CHAPTER VII</h2> -<h2 class="main">THE ARBUTUS CATERPILLAR</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">I have not found many species of urticating caterpillars in the small corner of my -investigations. I know of two only: the Pine Caterpillar and the Arbutus Caterpillar. -The latter belongs to the genus Liparis. His Moth, who is a glorious snowy white, -with the last rings of the abdomen bright russet, is very like <i lang="la">Liparis auriflua</i>, <span class="sc">Fab.</span>, from whom she differs not only in size—she is smaller—but, above all, in the field -of operations selected by her caterpillar. Is the species classified in our lists? -I do not know; and really it is hardly worth while to enquire. What does a Latin name -matter, when one cannot mistake the insect? I shall be sparing of detail concerning -the Arbutus Caterpillar, for he is far less interesting in his habits than the Pine -Processionary. Only his ravages and his poison deserve serious attention. -</p> -<p>On the Sérignan hills, sunny heights upon which the Mediterranean vegetation comes -to an end, the arbutus, or strawberry-tree, <span class="pageNum" id="pb151">[<a href="#pb151">151</a>]</span>abounds: a magnificent shrub, with lustrous evergreen foliage, vermilion fruit, round -and fleshy as strawberries, and hanging clusters of little white bells resembling -those of the lily of the valley. When the frosts come at the approach of December, -nothing could be more charming than the arbutus, decking its gay verdure with both -fruits and flowers, with coral balls and plump little bells. Alone of our flora, it -combines the flowering of to-day with the ripening of yesterday. -</p> -<p>Then the bright-red raspberries—the <i lang="fr">darbouses</i>, as we call them here—beloved by the Blackbird, grow soft and sweet to the palate. -The housewives pluck them and make them into preserves that are not without merit. -As for the shrub itself, when the season for cutting has come, it is not, despite -its beauty, respected by the woodman. It serves, like any trivial brushwood, in the -making of faggots for heating ovens. Frequently, too, the showy arbutus is ravaged -by a caterpillar yet more to be dreaded than the woodcutter. After this glutton has -been at it, it could not look more desolate had it been scorched and blackened by -fire. -</p> -<p>The Moth, a pretty little, snow-white Bombyx, <span class="pageNum" id="pb152">[<a href="#pb152">152</a>]</span>with superb antennary plumes and a cotton-wool tippet on her thorax, lays her eggs -on a leaf of the arbutus and, in so doing, starts the evil. -</p> -<p>You see a little cushion with pointed ends, rather less than an inch in length; a -white eiderdown, tinged with russet, thick, very soft and formed of hairs fixed with -a little gum by the end that points towards the upper extremity of the leaf. The eggs -are sunk in the thickness of this soft shelter. They possess a metallic sheen and -look like so many nickel granules. -</p> -<p>Hatching takes place in September. The first meals are made at the expense of the -native leaf; the later ones at the expense of the leaves all around. One surface only -is nibbled, usually the upper; the other remains intact, trellised by the network -of veins, which are too horny for the new-born grubs. -</p> -<p>The consumption of leaves is effected with scrupulous economy. Instead of grazing -at hazard and using up the pasturage at the dictates of individual caprice, the flock -progresses gradually from the base to the tip of the leaf, with all heads ranged in -a frontal attack, almost in a straight line. Not a bite is taken <span class="pageNum" id="pb153">[<a href="#pb153">153</a>]</span>beyond this line, until all that lies on this side of it is eaten up. -</p> -<p>As it advances, the flock throws a few threads across the denuded portion, where nothing -remains but the veins and the epidermis of the opposite surface. Thus is woven a gossamer -veil serving as a shelter from the fierce rays of the sun and as the parachute which -is essential to these weaklings, whom a puff of wind would carry away. -</p> -<p>As the result of a more rapid desiccation on the ravaged surface, the leaf soon begins -to curl of its own accord, curving into a gondola which is covered by a continuous -awning stretched from end to end. The herbage is then exhausted. The flock abandons -it and begins again elsewhere in the near neighbourhood. -</p> -<p>After various temporary pastures of this kind, in November, when the cold weather -is at hand, the caterpillars settle permanently at the end of a bough. Nibbled one -by one on their upper surfaces, the leaves of the terminal bunch draw close to their -neighbours, which, excoriated in their turn, do the same, until the whole forms a -bundle, which looks as if it had been scorched, lashed together with magnificent <span class="pageNum" id="pb154">[<a href="#pb154">154</a>]</span>white silk. This is the winter habitation, whence the family, still very feeble, will -not issue until the fine weather returns. -</p> -<p>The assembling of this leafy framework is not due to any special industry on the caterpillars’ -part; they do not stretch their threads from leaf to leaf and then, by pulling at -these ropes, bring the various pieces of the structure into contact. It is merely -the result of desiccation on the nibbled surfaces. Fixed cables, it is true, solidly -bind together the leaves brought close to one another by the contraction due to their -aridity; but they do not in any way play the part of a motive mechanism in the work -of the assemblage. -</p> -<p>No hauling-ropes are here, no capstans to move the timbers. The feeble creatures would -be incapable of such effort. The thing happens of itself. Sometimes a floating thread, -the plaything of the air, enlaces some adjacent leaf. This chance footbridge tempts -the explorers, who hasten to strip the accidental prize; and, without other labour, -yet one more leaf bends of its own accord and is added to the enclosure. For the most -part, the house is built by eating; a lodging is procured by dint of banqueting. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb155">[<a href="#pb155">155</a>]</span></p> -<p>A comfortable house, tightly closed and well-caulked, proof against rain and snow. -We, to guard ourselves against draughts, put sand-bags against the cracks of our doors -and windows; the extravagant little Arbutus Caterpillar applies pipings of silk-velvet -to his shutters. Things should be cosy inside, however damp the fog. In bad weather, -the rain drips into my house. The leaf-dwelling knows nothing of such troubles, so -true is it that animals often enjoy advantages which relegate human industry to the -second rank. -</p> -<p>In this shelter of silk and foliage, the worst three or four months of the year are -passed in a state of complete abstinence. No outings; not a bite of food. In March, -this torpor ceases; and the recluses, those starving bellies, shift their quarters. -</p> -<p>The community now splits up into squads, which spread themselves anyhow over the adjacent -verdure. This is the period of serious devastation. The caterpillars no longer confine -themselves to nibbling one surface of the leaf; their keen appetites demand the whole -of it, down to the stalk. And now, stage by stage, halt by halt, the arbutus is shorn -bare. -</p> -<p>The vagabonds do not return to their winter <span class="pageNum" id="pb156">[<a href="#pb156">156</a>]</span>dwelling, which has become too closely cramped. They reassemble in groups and weave, -here, there and everywhere, shapeless tents, temporary huts, abandoned for others -as the pasturage round about becomes exhausted. The denuded boughs, to all seeming -ravaged by fire, take on the look of squalid drying-grounds hung with rags. -</p> -<p>In June, having acquired their full growth, the caterpillars leave the arbutus-tree, -descend to earth and spin themselves, amid the dead leaves, a niggardly cocoon, in -which the insect’s hairs to some extent supplement its silk. A month later, the Bombyx -appears. -</p> -<p>In his final dimensions, the caterpillar measures nearly an inch and a quarter in -length. His costume does not lack richness or originality: a black skin with a double -row of orange specks on the back; long grey hairs arranged in bunches; short, snow-white -tufts on the sides; and a couple of brown-velvet protuberances on the first two rings -of the abdomen and also on the last ring but one. -</p> -<p>The most remarkable feature, however, consists of two tiny craters, always open wide; -two cunningly fashioned goblets which might have been wrought from a drop of red sealing-wax. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb157">[<a href="#pb157">157</a>]</span>The sixth and seventh segments of the abdomen are the only ones that bear these vermilion -goblets, placed in the middle of the back. I do not know the function of these little -cups. Perhaps they should be regarded as organs of information, similar to the Pine -Processionary’s dorsal mouths. -</p> -<p>The Arbutus Caterpillar is much dreaded in the village. Woodcutters, faggot-binders, -brushwood-gatherers, all are unanimous in reviling him. They have such a painfully -vivid memory of the irritation that, when I listen to them, I can hardly repress a -movement of the shoulders to relieve the imaginary itching in the middle of my back. -I seem to feel the arbutus-faggot, laden with its glowing rags, rubbing my bare skin. -</p> -<p>It is, it appears, a disagreeable job to cut down the shrub alive with caterpillars -during the hottest part of the day and to shake, under the blows of the axe, that -sort of upas-tree, shedding poison in its shade. As for me, I have no complaint to -make of my relations with the ravager of the arbutus. I have very often handled him; -I have applied his fur to the tips of my fingers, my neck and even my face, for hours -at a time; I have ripped up <span class="pageNum" id="pb158">[<a href="#pb158">158</a>]</span>the nests to extract their populations for the purpose of my researches; but I have -never been inconvenienced. Save in exceptional circumstances, the approach of the -moult perhaps, this would need a skin less tough than mine. -</p> -<p>The thin skin of a child does not enjoy the same immunity, as witness little Paul, -who, having helped me to empty some nests and to collect the inhabitants with my forceps, -was for hours scratching his neck, which was dotted with red wheals. My ingenuous -assistant was proud of his sufferings in the cause of science, which resulted from -heedlessness and also perhaps from bravado. In twenty-four hours, the trouble disappeared, -without leaving any serious consequences. -</p> -<p>All this hardly tallies with the painful experiences of which the woodcutters talk. -Do they exaggerate? That is hardly credible; they are so unanimous. Then something -must have been lacking in my experiments: the propitious moment apparently, the proper -degree of maturity in the caterpillar, the high temperature which aggravates the poison. -</p> -<p>To show itself in its full severity, the urtication demands the cooperation of certain -undefined <span class="pageNum" id="pb159">[<a href="#pb159">159</a>]</span>circumstances; and this cooperation was wanting. Chance perhaps will one day teach -me more than I want to know; I shall be attacked in the manner familiar to the woodcutters -and shall pass a night in torment, tossing and turning as though on a bed of live -coals. -</p> -<p>What the direct contact of the caterpillar did not teach me the artifices of chemistry -will demonstrate with a violence which I was far from expecting. I treat the caterpillar -with ether, just as I treated the slough of the Pine Processionary. The number of -the creatures taken for the infusion—they are pretty small as yet, are scarcely half -the size which they will attain when mature—is about a hundred. After a couple of -days’ maceration, I filter the liquid and leave it to evaporate freely. With the few -drops that remain I soak a square of blotting-paper folded in four and apply it to -the inner surface of my fore-arm, with a thin rubber sheet and a bandage. It is an -exact repetition of what I did with the Pine Processionary. -</p> -<p>Applied in the morning, the blister hardly takes effect until the following night. -Then by degrees the irritation becomes unendurable; <span class="pageNum" id="pb160">[<a href="#pb160">160</a>]</span>and the burning sensation is so acute that I am tormented every moment with the desire -to tear off the bandage. However, I hold out, but at the cost of a sleepless, feverish -night. -</p> -<p>How well I now understand what the woodcutters tell me! I had less than a square inch -of skin subjected to the torture. What would it be if I had my back, shoulders, neck, -face and arms tormented in this fashion? I pity you with all my heart, you labourers -who are troubled by the hateful creature. -</p> -<p>On the morrow, the infernal paper is removed. The skin is red and swollen, covered -with tiny pimples whence ooze drops of serous fluid. For five days the itching persists, -with a sharp, burning pain, and the running from the pimples continues. Then the dead -skin dries and comes off in scabs. All is over, save the redness, which is still perceptible -a month later. -</p> -<p>The demonstration is accomplished; the Arbutus Caterpillar, capable as he is of producing, -under certain conditions, the same effects which I obtain by artificial means, fully -deserves his odious reputation. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb161">[<a href="#pb161">161</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch8" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e254">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label">CHAPTER VIII</h2> -<h2 class="main">AN INSECT VIRUS</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">One step forward has been taken, but only a very little one as yet, in the problem -of the stinging caterpillars. The drenching with ether teaches us that hairiness plays -a very secondary part in the matter. With its dust of broken bristles, which the least -breath wafts in all directions, it bothers us by depositing and fixing its irritant -coating upon us; but this virus does not originate in the creature’s fleece; it comes -from elsewhere. What is the source of it? -</p> -<p>I will enter into a few details. Perhaps, in so doing, I shall be of service to the -novice. The subject, which is very simple and sharply defined, will show us how one -question gives rise to another; how experimental tests confirm or upset hypotheses, -which are, as it were, a temporary scaffolding; and, lastly, how logic, that severe -examiner, leads us by degrees to generalities which are far more important than anything -that we were led to anticipate at the outset. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb162">[<a href="#pb162">162</a>]</span></p> -<p>And, first of all, does the Pine Processionary possess a special glandular structure -which elaborates the virus, as do, for instance, the poison-glands of the Wasps and -Bees? By no means. Anatomy shows that the internal structure of the stinging caterpillar -is similar to that of the harmless one. There is nothing more and nothing less. -</p> -<p>The poisonous product, of unlocalized origin, results, therefore, from a general process -in which the entire organism is brought into play. It should, in consequence, be found -in the blood, after the manner of urea in higher animals. This is a suggestion of -grave import, but after all quite valueless without the conclusive verdict of actual -experiment. -</p> -<p>Five or six Processionaries, pricked with the point of a needle, furnish me with a -few drops of blood. I allow these to soak into a small square of blotting-paper, which -I then apply to my fore-arm with a waterproof bandage. It is not without a certain -anxiety that I await the outcome of the experiment. The result will show whether the -conclusions already forming in my mind will receive a solid basis or vanish into thin -air. -</p> -<p>At a late hour of the night, the pain wakes <span class="pageNum" id="pb163">[<a href="#pb163">163</a>]</span>me, a pain which this time is an intellectual joy. My anticipations were correct. -The blood does indeed contain the venomous substance. It causes itching, swelling, -a burning sensation, an exudation of serum and, lastly, a shedding of the skin. I -learn more than I had hoped to learn. The test is more valuable than that of mere -contact with the caterpillar could have been. Instead of treating myself with the -small quantity of poison with which the hairs are smeared, I have gone to the source -of the irritant substance and I thereby gain an increase of discomfort. -</p> -<p>Very happy in my suffering, which sets me on a safe path, I continue my enquiry by -arguing thus: the virus in the blood cannot be a living substance, one that takes -part in the working of the organism; it is rather, like urea, a form of decay, an -offthrow of the vital process, a waste product which is expelled as and when it forms. -If this be the case, I ought to find it in the caterpillar’s droppings, which are -made up of both the digestive and the urinary residues. -</p> -<p>Let us describe the new experiment, which is no less positive than the last. I leave -a few pinches of very dry droppings, such as are <span class="pageNum" id="pb164">[<a href="#pb164">164</a>]</span>found in abundance In the old nests, to soak for two days In sulphuric ether. The -liquid, coloured as it is with the chlorophyll of the caterpillar’s food, turns a -dirty green. Then I repeat precisely the process which I mentioned when I wanted to -prove the innocuousness of the hairs deprived of their poisonous varnish. I refer -to it a second time in order thoroughly to explain the method pursued and to save -repetition in the various experiments undertaken. -</p> -<p>The infusion is filtered, spontaneously evaporated and reduced to a few drops, with -which I soak my stinger. This consists of a small piece of blotting-paper, folded -in four to increase the thickness of the pad and to give it a greater power of absorption. -An area of a square inch or less suffices; in some cases it is even too much. A novice -in this kind of research-work, I was too lavish with the liniment; and in return for -my generosity I had such a bad time that I make a point of warning any reader desirous -of repeating the experiment upon his own person. -</p> -<p>Fully soaked, the square of paper is applied to the fore-arm, on the inner surface, -where the skin is more tender. A sheet of rubber <span class="pageNum" id="pb165">[<a href="#pb165">165</a>]</span>covers it and, being waterproof, guards against the loss of the poison. Finally, a -linen bandage keeps the whole in place. -</p> -<p>On the afternoon of the 4th of June 1897, a memorable date for me, I test, as I have -just said, the etheric extract of the Processionary’s droppings. All night long, I -feel a violent itching, a burning sensation and shooting pains. On the following day, -after twenty hours of contact, I remove the dressing. -</p> -<p>The venomous liquid, too lavishly employed in my fear of failure, has considerably -overflowed the limits of the square of paper. The parts which it has touched and still -more the portion covered by the pad are swollen and very red; moreover, in the latter -case, the skin is ridged, wrinkled and mortified. It smarts a little and itches; and -that is all. -</p> -<p>On the following day, the swelling becomes more pronounced and goes deep into the -muscles, which, when touched with the finger, throb like an inflamed cheek. The colour -is a bright carmine and extends all round the spot which the paper covered. This is -due to the escape of some of the liquid. There is a plentiful discharge of serum, -oozing from the sore in tiny drops. The smarting and itching <span class="pageNum" id="pb166">[<a href="#pb166">166</a>]</span>increase and become so intense, especially during the night, that, to get a little -sleep, I am driven to employ a palliative, vaseline with borax and a lint dressing. -</p> -<p>In five days’ time, it has developed into a hideous ulcer, which looks more painful -than it really is. The red, swollen flesh, quivering and denuded of its epidermis, -provokes commiseration. The person who night and morning renews my dressing of lint -and vaseline is almost sick at the sight. -</p> -<p>“One would think,” she says, “that the dogs had been gnawing your arm. I do hope you -won’t try any more of those horrible decoctions.” -</p> -<p>I allow my sympathetic nurse to talk away and am already meditating further experiments, -some of which will be equally painful. O sacred truth, what can rival thy power over -us mortals! Thou turnest my petty torment into contentment; thou makest me rejoice -in my flayed arm! What shall I gain by it all? I shall know why a wretched caterpillar -sets us scratching ourselves. Nothing more; and that is enough for me. -</p> -<p>Three weeks later, new skin is forming, but is covered all over with painful little -pimples. <span class="pageNum" id="pb167">[<a href="#pb167">167</a>]</span>The swelling diminishes; the redness persists and is still very marked. The effect -of the infernal paper lasts a long time. At the end of a month, I still feel an itching, -a burning irritation, which is intensified by the warmth of the bed-clothes. At last, -a fortnight later, all has disappeared but the redness, of which I shall retain the -marks for a long time yet, though it grows gradually fainter and fainter. It will -take three months or more to vanish altogether. -</p> -<p>We now have some light on the problem: the Processionary’s virus is certainly an offthrow -of the organic factory, a waste product of the living edifice. The caterpillar discards -it with his excrement. But the material of the droppings has a twofold origin: the -greater part represents the digestive residuum; the rest, in a much smaller proportion, -is composed of the urinary products. To which of the two does the virus belong? Before -going farther, let us permit ourselves a digression which will assist us in our subsequent -enquiries. Let us ask what advantages the Processionary derives from his urticating -product. -</p> -<p>I already hear the answer: -</p> -<p>“It is a means of protection, of defence. <span class="pageNum" id="pb168">[<a href="#pb168">168</a>]</span>With his poisoned mane, he repels the enemy.” -</p> -<p>I do not clearly perceive the bearing of this explanation. I think of the creature’s -recognized enemies: of the larva of <i lang="la">Calosoma sycophanta</i>, which lives in the nests of the Processionary of the Oak and gobbles up the inhabitants -with never a thought of their burning fleece; of the Cuckoo, another mighty consumer, -so we are told, of the same caterpillars, who gorges on them to the point of implanting -in his gizzard a bristling coat of their hairs. -</p> -<p>I am not aware if the Processionary of the Pine pays a like tribute. I do know of -at least one of his exploiters. This is a Dermestes,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1494src" href="#xd31e1494">1</a> who establishes himself in the silken city and feeds upon the remains of the defunct -caterpillars. This ghoul assures us of the existence of other consumers, all furnished -with stomachs expressly fashioned for such highly-seasoned fare. For every harvest -of living creatures there is always a harvester. -</p> -<p>No, the theory of a special virus, expressly prepared to defend the Processionary -and his <span class="pageNum" id="pb169">[<a href="#pb169">169</a>]</span>emulators in urtication, is not the last word on the subject. I should find it difficult -to believe in such a prerogative. Why have these caterpillars, more than others, need -of protection? What reasons would make of them a caste apart, endowed with an exceptional -defensive venom? The part which they play in the entomological world does not differ -from that of other caterpillars, hairy or smooth. It is the naked caterpillars who, -in default of a mane capable of striking awe into the assailant, ought, one would -think, to arm themselves against danger and impregnate themselves with corrosives, -instead of remaining a meek and easy prey. Is it likely that the shaggy, bristling -caterpillar should anoint his fleece with a formidable cosmetic and his smooth-coated -kinsman be unfamiliar with the chemical properties of the poison beneath his satin -skin! These contradictions do not inspire confidence. -</p> -<p>Have we not here, rather, a property common to all caterpillars, smooth-skinned or -hairy? Among the latter, there might be some, just a few, who, under certain special -conditions which will need to be defined, would be quick to reveal by urtication the -<span class="pageNum" id="pb170">[<a href="#pb170">170</a>]</span>venomous nature of their organic refuse; the others, the vast majority, living outside -these conditions, even though endowed with the necessary product, would be inexpert -at the stinging business and would not produce irritation by contact. In all, the -same virus is to be found, resulting from an identical vital process. Sometimes it -is brought into prominence by the itching which it produces; sometimes, indeed most -often, it remains latent, unrecognized, if our artifices do not intervene. -</p> -<p>What shall these artifices be? Something very simple. I address myself to the Silkworm. -If there be an inoffensive caterpillar in the world, it is certainly he. Women and -children take him up by the handful in our Silkworm-nurseries; and their delicate -fingers are none the worse for it. The satin-skinned caterpillar is perfectly innocuous -to a skin almost as tender as his own. -</p> -<p>But this lack of caustic venom is only apparent. I treat with ether the excretions -of the Silkworm; and the infusion, concentrated into a few drops, is tested according -to the usual method. The result is wonderfully definite. A smarting sore on the arm, -similar in its mode of appearance and in its effects to <span class="pageNum" id="pb171">[<a href="#pb171">171</a>]</span>that produced by the droppings of the Processionary, assures me that logic was right. -</p> -<p>Yes, the virus which makes one scratch so much, which blisters and eats away the skin, -is not a defensive product vested in only a few caterpillars. I recognize it, with -its invariable properties, even in a caterpillar which at first sight appears as though -it could not possess anything of the kind. -</p> -<p>The Silkworm’s virus, besides, is not unknown in my village. The casual observation -of the peasant-woman has outstripped the precise observation of the man of science. -The women and girls entrusted with the rearing of the Silkworm—the <i lang="fr">magnanarelles</i> as they are called—complain of certain tribulations caused, they say, by <i lang="fr">lou verin di magnan</i>, the Silkworms’ poison. This trouble consists of a violent itching of the eyelids, -which become red and swollen. In the case of the more susceptible, there is a rash -and the skin peels off the fore-arm, which the turned-up sleeves fail to protect during -work. -</p> -<p>I now know the cause of this little trouble, my plucky <i lang="fr">magnanarelles</i>. It is not contact with the worm that afflicts you; you need have no fear of handling -him. It is only the litter <span class="pageNum" id="pb172">[<a href="#pb172">172</a>]</span>that you need distrust. There, jumbled up with the remains of the mulberry-leaves, -is a copious mass of droppings, impregnated with the substance which has just so painfully -eaten into my skin; there and there only is <i lang="fr">lou verin</i>, as you call it. -</p> -<p>It is a relief merely to know the cause of one’s trouble; but I will provide you with -another consolation. When you remove the litter and renew the leaves, you should raise -the irritant dust as little as possible; you should avoid lifting your hands to your -face, above all to your eyes; and it is just as well to turn down your sleeves in -order to protect your arms. If you take these precautions, you will suffer no unpleasantness. -</p> -<p>The successful result obtained with the Silkworm caused me to foresee a similar success -with any caterpillar that I might come across. The facts fully confirmed my expectations. -I tested the stercoral pellets of various caterpillars, not selected, but just as -the hazard of collecting provided them: the Great Tortoiseshell, the Heath Fritillary, -the Large Cabbage Butterfly, the Spurge Hawk-moth, the Great Peacock Moth, the Death’s-head -Moth, the Puss-moth, the Tiger-moth and the Arbutus <span class="pageNum" id="pb173">[<a href="#pb173">173</a>]</span>Liparis. All my tests, with not a single exception, brought about stinging, of various -degrees of violence, it is true. I attribute these differences in the result to the -greater or lesser quantities of the virus employed, for it is impossible to measure -the dose. -</p> -<p>So the urticating excretion is common to all the caterpillars. By a very unexpected -reversion of the usual order of things, the popular repugnance is well-founded; prejudice -becomes truth: all caterpillars are venomous. We must draw a distinction, however: -with the same venomous properties, some are inoffensive and others, far less numerous, -are to be feared. Whence comes this difference? -</p> -<p>I note that the caterpillars marked out as stinging live in communities and weave -themselves dwellings of silk, in which they stay for long periods. Moreover, they -are furry. Of this number are the Pine Processionary, the Oak Processionary and the -caterpillars of various Lipares. -</p> -<p>Let us consider the first-named in particular. His nest, a voluminous bag spun at -the tip of a branch, is magnificent in its silky whiteness, on the outside; inside, -it is a disgusting cesspit. The colony remains in it all <span class="pageNum" id="pb174">[<a href="#pb174">174</a>]</span>day and for the greater part of the night. It sallies forth in procession only in -the late hours of twilight, to browse upon the adjacent foliage. This long internment -leads to a considerable accumulation of droppings in the heart of the dwelling. -</p> -<p>From all the threads of this labyrinth hang chaplets of these droppings; the walls -are upholstered with them in all the corridors; the little narrow chambers are encumbered -with them. From a nest the size of a man’s head I have obtained, with a sieve, over -three-quarters of a pint of stercoral pellets. -</p> -<p>Now it is in the midst of this ordure that the caterpillars live and have their being; -in the midst of it they move, swarm and sleep. The results of this utter contempt -for the rules of cleanliness are obvious. Certainly, the Processionary does not soil -his coat by contact with those dry pellets; he leaves his home with his costume neat -and glossy, suggesting not a suspicion of uncleanliness. No matter: by constantly -rubbing against the droppings, his bristles are inevitably smeared with virus and -their barbs poisoned. The caterpillar becomes irritant, because his manner <span class="pageNum" id="pb175">[<a href="#pb175">175</a>]</span>of life subjects him to prolonged contact with his own ordure. -</p> -<p>Now consider the Hedgehog Caterpillar. Why is he harmless, despite his fierce and -hirsute aspect? Because he lives in isolation and is always on the move. His mane, -apt though it be to collect and retain irritant particles, will never give us the -itch, for the simple reason that the caterpillar does not lie on his excretions. Distributed -all over the fields and far from numerous, owing to the caterpillar’s solitary habits, -the droppings, though poisonous, cannot transfer their properties to a fleece which -does not come into contact with them. If the Hedgehog lived in a community, in a nest -serving as a cesspit, he would be the foremost of our stinging caterpillars. -</p> -<p>At first sight, the barrack-rooms of the Silkworm-nurseries seem to fulfil the conditions -necessary to the surface venom of the worms. Each change of litter results in the -removal of basketfuls of droppings from the trays. Over this heaped-up ordure the -Silkworms swarm. How is it that they do not acquire the poisonous properties of their -own excrement? -<span class="pageNum" id="pb176">[<a href="#pb176">176</a>]</span></p> -<p>I see two reasons. In the first place, they are hairless; and a brushlike coat may -well be indispensable to the collection of the virus. In the second place, far from -lying in the filth, they live above the soiled stratum, being largely separated from -it by the bed of leaves, which is renewed several times a day. Despite crowding, the -population of a tray has nothing that can be compared with the ordinary habits of -the Processionary; and so it remains harmless, in spite of its stercoral toxin. -</p> -<p>These first enquiries lead us to conclusions which themselves are very remarkable. -All caterpillars excrete an urticating matter, which is identical throughout the series. -But, if the poison is to manifest itself and to cause us that characteristic itching, -it is indispensable that the caterpillar shall dwell in a community, spending long -periods in the nest, a silken bag laden with droppings. These furnish the virus; the -caterpillar’s hairs collect it and transfer it to us. -</p> -<p>The time has come to tackle the problem from another point of view. Is this formidable -matter which always accompanies the excretions a digestive residuum? Is it not rather -one of those waste substances which <span class="pageNum" id="pb177">[<a href="#pb177">177</a>]</span>the organism engenders while at work, waste substances designated by the general appellation -of urinary products? -</p> -<p>To isolate these products, to collect them separately, would scarcely be practicable, -if we did not have recourse to what follows on the metamorphosis. Every Moth, on emerging -from her chrysalis, rejects a copious mixture of uric acid and various humours of -which very little is as yet known. It may be compared with the broken plaster of a -building rebuilt on a new plan and represents the by-products of the mighty labours -accomplished in the transfigured insect. These remains are essentially urinary products, -with no admixture of digested foodstuffs. -</p> -<p>To what insect shall I apply for this residuum? Chance does many things. I collect, -from the old elm-tree in the garden, about a hundred curious caterpillars. They have -seven rows of prickles of an amber yellow, a sort of bush with four or five branches. -I shall learn from the Butterfly that they belong to the Great Tortoiseshell (<i lang="la">Vanessa polychloros</i>, <span class="sc">Lin.</span>). -</p> -<p>Reared on elm-leaves under a wire-gauze cover, my caterpillars undergo their transformation -<span class="pageNum" id="pb178">[<a href="#pb178">178</a>]</span>towards the end of May. Their chrysalids are specked with brown on a whitish ground -and display on the under surface six radiant silvery spots, a sort of decorative tinsel, -like so many mirrors. Fixed by the tail with a silken pad, they hang from the top -of the dome, swinging at the least movement and emitting vivid flashes of light from -their reflectors. My children are amazed at this living chandelier. It is a treat -for them when I allow them to come and admire it in my animal studio. -</p> -<p>Another surprise awaits them, this time a tragic one, however. A fortnight later, -the Butterflies emerge. I have placed under the cover a large sheet of white paper, -which will receive the desired products. I call the children. What do they see on -the paper? -</p> -<p>Large spots of blood. Under their very eyes, from up there, at the top of the dome, -a butterfly lets fall a great red drop: plop! No joy for the children to-day; anxiety -rather, almost fear. -</p> -<p>I send them away, saying to them: -</p> -<p>“Be sure and remember, kiddies, what you have just seen; and, if ever any one talks -to you about showers of blood, don’t be silly and <span class="pageNum" id="pb179">[<a href="#pb179">179</a>]</span>frightened. A pretty Butterfly is the cause of those blood-red stains, which have -been known to terrify country-folk. The moment she is born, she casts out, in the -form of a red liquid, the remains of her old caterpillar body, a body remodelled and -reborn in a beautiful shape. That is the whole secret.” -</p> -<p>When my artless visitors have departed, I resume my examination of the rain of blood -falling under the cover. Still clinging to the shell of its chrysalis, each Tortoiseshell -ejects and sheds upon the paper a great red drop, which, if left standing, deposits -a powdery pink sediment, composed of urates. The liquid is now a deep crimson. -</p> -<p>When the whole thing is perfectly dry, I cut out of the spotted paper some of the -richer stains and steep the bits in ether. The spots on the paper remain as red as -at the outset; and the liquid assumes a light lemon tint. When reduced by evaporation -to a few drops, this liquid provides me with what I require to soak my square of blotting-paper. -</p> -<p>What shall I say to avoid repeating myself? The effects of the new caustic are precisely -the same as those which I experienced when I used the droppings of the Processionary. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb180">[<a href="#pb180">180</a>]</span>The same itching, the same burning, the same swelling with the flesh throbbing and -inflamed, the same serous exudation, the same peeling of the skin, the same persistent -redness, which lingers for three or four months, long after the ulceration itself -has disappeared. -</p> -<p>Without being very painful, the sore is so irksome and above all looks so ugly that -I swear never to let myself in for it again. Henceforth, without waiting for the thing -to eat into my flesh, I shall remove the caterpillar plaster as soon as I feel a conclusive -itching. -</p> -<p>In the course of these painful experiences, friends upbraid me with not having recourse -to the assistance of some animal, such as the Guinea-pig, that stock victim of the -physiologists. I take no note of their reproaches. The animal is a stoic. It says -nothing of its sufferings. If, the torture being a little too intense, it complains, -I am in no position to interpret its cries exactly or to attribute them to a definite -impression. -</p> -<p>The Guinea-pig will not say: -</p> -<p>“It smarts, it itches, it burns.” -</p> -<p>He will simply say: -<span class="pageNum" id="pb181">[<a href="#pb181">181</a>]</span></p> -<p>“That hurts.” -</p> -<p>As I want to know the details of the sensations experienced, the best thing is to -resort to my own skin, the only witness on whose evidence I can rely implicitly. -</p> -<p>At the risk of provoking a smile, I will venture on another confession. As I begin -to see into the matter more clearly, I hesitate to torture or destroy a single creature -in God’s great community. The life of the least of these is a thing to be respected. -We can take it away, but we cannot give it. Peace to those innocents, so little interested -in our investigations! What does our restless curiosity matter to their calm and sacred -ignorance? If we wish to know, let us pay the price ourselves as far as possible. -The acquisition of an idea is well worth the sacrifice of a bit of skin. -</p> -<p>The Elm Tortoiseshell, with her rain of blood, may leave us to a certain extent in -doubt. Might not this strange red substance, with its unusual appearance, contain -a poison which is likewise exceptional? I address myself therefore to the Mulberry -Bombyx, to the Pine Bombyx and to the Great Peacock. <span class="pageNum" id="pb182">[<a href="#pb182">182</a>]</span>I collect the uric excretions ejected by the newly hatched Moths. -</p> -<p>This time, the liquid is whitish, sullied here and there with uncertain tints. There -is no blood-red colouration; but the result is the same. The virulent energy manifests -itself in the most definite manner. Therefore the Processionary’s virus exists equally -in all caterpillars, in all Butterflies and Moths emerging from the chrysalis; and -this virus is a by-product of the organism, a urinary product. -</p> -<p>The curiosity of our minds is insatiable. The moment a reply is obtained, a fresh -question arises. Why should the Lepidoptera alone be endowed in this manner? The organic -labours accomplished within them cannot differ greatly, as to the nature of the materials, -from those presiding over the maintenance of life in other insects. Therefore these -others also elaborate a by-product which has stinging powers. This can be verified—and -that forthwith—with the elements at my disposal. -</p> -<p>The first reply is furnished by <i lang="la">Cetonia floricola</i>, of which Beetle I collect half a dozen chrysalids from a heap of leaves half-converted -into mould. A box receives my <span class="pageNum" id="pb183">[<a href="#pb183">183</a>]</span>find, laid on a sheet of white paper, on which the urinary fluid of the perfect insect -will fall as soon as the caskets are broken. -</p> -<p>The weather is favourable and I have not long to wait. The thing is done: the matter -rejected is white, the usual colour of these residua, in the great majority of insects, -at the moment of the metamorphosis. Though by no means abundant, it nevertheless provokes -on my fore-arm a violent itching, together with mortification of the skin, which comes -off in flakes. The reason why it does not display a more distinct sore is that I judged -it prudent to end the experiment. The burning and itching tell me enough as to the -results of a contact unduly prolonged. -</p> -<p>Now to the Hymenoptera. I have not in my possession, I regret to say, any of those -with whom my rearing-chambers used formerly to provide me, whether Honey-bee or Hunting -Wasps. I have only a Green Saw-fly, whose larva lives in numerous families on the -leaves of the alder. Reared under cover, this larva provides me with enough tiny black -droppings to fill a thimble. That is sufficient: the urtication is quite definite. -</p> -<p>I take next the insects with incomplete <span class="pageNum" id="pb184">[<a href="#pb184">184</a>]</span>transformations. My recent rearings have given me quite a collection of excretions -emanating from the Orthoptera. I consult those of the Vine Ephippiger<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1615src" href="#xd31e1615">2</a> and the Great Grey Locust. Both sting to a degree which once more makes me regret -my lavish hand. -</p> -<p>We will be satisfied with this; indeed my arms demand as much, for, tattooed with -red squares, they refuse to make room for fresh brandings. The examples are sufficiently -varied to impose the following conclusion: the Processionary’s virus is found in a -host of other insects, apparently even in the entire series. It is a urinary product -inherent in the entomological organism. -</p> -<p>The dejections of insects, especially those evacuated at the end of the metamorphosis, -contain or are even almost entirely composed of urates. Can the stinging material -be the inevitable associate of uric acid? It should then form part of the excrement -of the bird and the reptile, which in both cases is very rich in urates. Here again -is a suspicion worthy of verification by experiment. -</p> -<p>For the moment it is impossible for me to question the reptile; it is easy, on the -other <span class="pageNum" id="pb185">[<a href="#pb185">185</a>]</span>hand, to interrogate the bird, whose reply will suffice. I accept what is offered -by chance: an insectivorous bird, the Swallow, and a graminivorous bird, the Goldfinch. -Well, their urinary dejections, when carefully separated from the digestive residua, -have not the slightest stinging effect. The virus that causes itching is independent -therefore of uric acid. It accompanies it in the insect class, without being its invariable -concomitant every elsewhere. -</p> -<p>A last step remains for us to take, namely, to isolate the stinging element and to -obtain it in quantities permitting of precise enquiries into its nature and properties. -It seems to me that medical science might turn to account a material whose energy -rivals that of cantharides, if it does not exceed it. The question appeals to me. -I would gladly return to my beloved chemistry; but I should want reagents, apparatus, -a laboratory, a whole costly arsenal of which I must not dream, afflicted as I am -with a terrible ailment: impecuniosity, the searcher’s habitual lot. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb186">[<a href="#pb186">186</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e1494"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1494src">1</a></span> A Bacon-beetle.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1494src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e1615"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1615src">2</a></span> A species of Grasshopper.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1615src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch9" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e265">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label">CHAPTER IX</h2> -<h2 class="main">THE PSYCHES: THE LAYING</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">In the springtime, old walls and dusty roads harbour a surprise for whoso has eyes -to see. Tiny faggots, for no apparent reason, set themselves in motion and make their -way along by sudden jerks. The inanimate comes to life, the immovable stirs. How does -this come about? Look closer and the motive power will stand revealed. -</p> -<p>Enclosed within the moving bundle is a fairly well-developed caterpillar, prettily -striped in black and white. Seeking for food or perhaps for a spot where the transformation -can be effected, he hurries along timidly, attired in a queer rig-out of twigs from -which nothing emerges except the head and the front part of the body, which is furnished -with six short legs. At the least alarm he goes right in and does not budge again. -This is the whole secret of the little roaming bundle of sticks. -</p> -<p>The faggot caterpillar belongs to the Psyche group, whose name conveys an allusion -<span class="pageNum" id="pb187">[<a href="#pb187">187</a>]</span>to the classic Psyche, symbolical of the soul. We must not allow this phrase to carry -our thoughts to loftier heights than is fitting. The nomenclator, with his rather -circumscribed view of the world, did not trouble about the soul when inventing his -descriptive label. He simply wanted a pretty name; and certainly he could have hit -on nothing better. -</p> -<p>To protect himself from the weather, our chilly, bare-skinned Psyche builds himself -a portable shelter, a travelling cottage which the owner never leaves until he becomes -a Moth. It is something better than a hut on wheels with a thatched roof to it: it -is a hermit’s frock, made of an unusual sort of frieze. In the valley of the Danube -the peasant wears a goatskin cloak fastened with a belt of rushes. The Psyche dons -an even more rustic apparel. He makes himself a suit of clothes out of hop-poles. -It is true that, beneath this rude conglomeration, which would be a regular hair-shirt -to a skin as delicate as his, he puts a thick lining of silk. The Clythra Beetle garbs -himself in pottery; this one dresses himself in a faggot. -</p> -<p>In April, on the walls of my chief observatory, <span class="pageNum" id="pb188">[<a href="#pb188">188</a>]</span>that famous pebbly acre with its wealth of insect life, I find the Psyche who is to -furnish me with my most circumstantial and detailed records.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1644src" href="#xd31e1644">1</a> He is at this period in the torpor of the approaching metamorphosis. As we can ask -him nothing else for the moment, let us look into the construction and composition -of his faggot. -</p> -<p>It is a not irregular structure, spindle-shaped and about an inch and a half long. -The pieces that compose it are fixed in front and free at the back, are arranged anyhow -and would form a rather ineffective shelter against the sun and rain if the recluse -had no other protection than his thatched roof. -</p> -<p>The word thatch is suggested to my mind by a summary inspection of what I see, but -it is not an exact expression in this case. On the contrary, graminaceous straws are -rare, to the great advantage of the future family, which, as we shall learn presently, -would find nothing to suit them in jointed planks. What predominates is remnants of -very small stalks, light, soft and rich in pith, such as are possessed by various -Chicoriaceæ. I recognize in <span class="pageNum" id="pb189">[<a href="#pb189">189</a>]</span>particular the floral stems of the mouse-ear hawkweed and the Nimes pterotheca. Next -come bits of grass-leaves, scaly twigs provided by the cypress-tree and all sorts -of little sticks, coarse materials adopted for the lack of anything better. Lastly, -if the favourite cylindrical pieces fall short, the mantle is sometimes finished off -with an ample flounced tippet, that is to say, with fragments of dry leaves of any -kind. -</p> -<p>Incomplete as it is, this list shows us that the caterpillar apart from his preference -for pithy morsels, has no very exclusive tastes. He employs indifferently anything -that he comes upon, provided that it be light, very dry, softened by long exposure -to the air and of suitable dimensions. All his finds, if they come anywhere near his -estimates, are used just as they are, without any alterations or sawing to reduce -them to the proper length. The Psyche does not trim the laths that go to form his -roof; he gathers them as he finds them. His work is limited to imbricating them one -after the other by fixing them at the fore-end. -</p> -<p>In order to lend itself to the movements of the journeying caterpillar and in particular -to <span class="pageNum" id="pb190">[<a href="#pb190">190</a>]</span>facilitate the action of the head and legs when a new piece is to be placed in position, -the front part of the sheath requires a special structure. Here a casing of beams -is no longer allowable, for their length and stiffness would hamper the artisan and -even make his work impossible; what is essential here is a flexible neck, able to -bend in all directions. The assemblage of stakes does, in fact, end suddenly at some -distance from the fore-part and is there replaced by a collar in which the silken -woof is merely hardened with very tiny ligneous particles, tending to strengthen the -material without impairing its flexibility. This collar, which gives free movement, -is so important that all the Psyches make equal use of it, however much the rest of -the work may differ. All carry, in front of the faggot of sticks, a yielding neck, -soft to the touch, formed inside of a web of pure silk and velveted outside with a -fine sawdust which the caterpillar obtains by crushing with his mandibles any sort -of dry straw. -</p> -<p>A similar velvet, but lustreless and faded, apparently through age, finishes the sheath -at the back, in the form of a rather long, bare appendix, open at the end. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb191">[<a href="#pb191">191</a>]</span></p> -<p>Let us now remove the outside of the straw envelope, shredding it piecemeal. The demolition -gives us a varying number of joists: I have counted as many as eighty and more. The -ruin that remains is a cylindrical sheath wherein we discover, from one end to the -other, the structure which we perceived at the front and rear, the two parts which -are naturally bare. The tissue everywhere is of very stout silk, which resists without -breaking when pulled by the fingers, a smooth tissue, beautifully white inside, drab -and wrinkled outside, where it bristles with encrusted woody particles. -</p> -<p>There will be an opportunity later to discover by what means the caterpillar makes -himself so complicated a garment, in which are laid one upon the other, in a definite -order, first, the extremely fine satin which is in direct contact with the skin; next, -the mixed stuff, a sort of frieze dusted with ligneous matter, which saves the silk -and gives consistency to the work; lastly, the surtout of overlapping laths. -</p> -<p>While retaining this general threefold arrangement, the scabbard offers notable variations -of structural detail in the different <span class="pageNum" id="pb192">[<a href="#pb192">192</a>]</span>species. Here, for instance, is a second Psyche,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1679src" href="#xd31e1679">2</a> the most belated of the three which I have chanced to come upon. I meet him towards -the end of June, hurrying across some dusty path near the houses. His cases surpass -those of the previous species both in size and in regularity of arrangement. They -form a thick coverlet, of many pieces, in which I recognize here fragments of hollow -stalks, there bits of fine straw, with perhaps straps formed of blades of grass. In -front there is never any mantilla of dead leaves, a troublesome piece of finery which, -without being in regular use, is pretty frequent in the costume of the first-named -species. At the back, no long, denuded vestibule. Save for the indispensable collar -at the aperture, all the rest is cased in logs. There is not much variety about the -thing, but, when all is said, there is a certain elegance in its stern faultlessness. -</p> -<p>The smallest in size and simplest in dress is the third,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1691src" href="#xd31e1691">3</a> who is very common at the end of winter on the walls, as well as in the furrows of -the barks of gnarled old trees, be they <span class="pageNum" id="pb193">[<a href="#pb193">193</a>]</span>olive-trees, holm-oaks, elms or almost any other. His case, a modest little bundle, -is hardly more than two-fifths of an inch in length. A dozen rotten straws, gleaned -at random and fixed close to one another in a parallel direction, represent, with -the silk sheath, his whole outlay on dress. It would be difficult to clothe one’s -self more economically. -</p> -<p>This pigmy, apparently so uninteresting, shall supply us with our first records of -the curious life-story of the Psyches. I gather him in profusion in April and instal -him in a wire bell-jar. What he eats I know not. My ignorance would be grievous under -other conditions; but at present I need not trouble about provisions. Taken from their -walls and trees, where they had suspended themselves for their transformation, most -of my little Psyches are in the chrysalis state. A few of them are still active. They -hasten to clamber to the top of the trellis-work; they fix themselves there perpendicularly -by means of a little silk cushion; then everything is still. -</p> -<p>June comes to an end; and the male Moths are hatched, leaving the chrysalid wrapper -half caught in the case, which remains fixed <span class="pageNum" id="pb194">[<a href="#pb194">194</a>]</span>where it is and will remain there indefinitely until dismantled by the weather. The -emergence is effected through the hinder end of the bundle of sticks, the only way -by which it can be effected. Having permanently closed the top opening, the real door -of the house, by fastening it to the support which he has chosen, the caterpillar -therefore has turned the other way round and undergone his transformation in a reversed -position, which enables the adult insect to emerge through the outlet made at the -back, the only one now free. -</p> -<p>For that matter, this is the method followed by all the Psyches. The case has two -apertures. The front one, which is more regular and more carefully constructed, is -at the caterpillar’s service so long as larval activity lasts. It is closed and firmly -fastened to its support at the time of the nymphosis. The hinder one, which is faulty -and even hidden by the sagging of the sides, is at the Moth’s service. It does not -really open until right at the end, when pushed by the chrysalis or the adult insect. -</p> -<p>In their modest pearl-grey dress, with their insignificant wing-equipment, hardly -exceeding <span class="pageNum" id="pb195">[<a href="#pb195">195</a>]</span>that of a Common Fly, our little Moths are still not without elegance. They have handsome -feathery plumes for antennæ; their wings are edged with delicate fringes. They whirl -very fussily inside the bell-jar; they skim the ground, fluttering their wings; they -crowd eagerly around certain sheaths which nothing on the outside distinguishes from -the others. They alight upon them and sound them with their plumes. -</p> -<p>This feverish agitation marks them as lovers in search of their brides. This one here, -that one there, each of them finds his mate. But the coy one does not leave her home. -Things happen very discreetly through the wicket left open at the free end of the -case. The male stands on the threshold of this back-door for a little while; and then -it is over: the wedding is finished. There is no need for us to linger over these -nuptials in which the parties concerned do not know, do not see each other. -</p> -<p>I hasten to place in a glass tube the few cases in which the mysterious events have -happened. Some days later, the recluse comes out of the sheath and shows herself in -all her wretchedness. Call that little fright a Moth! <span class="pageNum" id="pb196">[<a href="#pb196">196</a>]</span>One cannot easily get used to the idea of such poverty. The caterpillar of the start -was no humbler-looking. There are no wings, none at all; no silky fur either. At the -tip of the abdomen, a round, tufty pad, a crown of dirty-white velvet; on each segment, -in the middle of the back, a large rectangular dark patch: these are the sole attempts -at ornament. The mother Psyche renounces all the beauty which her name of Moth promised. -</p> -<p>From the centre of the hairy coronet a long ovipositor stands out, consisting of two -parts, one stiff, forming the base of the implement, the other soft and flexible, -sheathed in the first just as a telescope fits in its tube. The laying mother bends -herself into a hook, grips the lower end of her case with her six feet and drives -her probe into the back-window, a window which serves manifold purposes, allowing -of the consummation of the clandestine marriage, the emergence of the fertilized bride, -the installation of the eggs and, lastly, the exodus of the young family. -</p> -<p>There, at the free end of her case, the mother remains for a long time, bowed and -motionless. What can she be doing in this contemplative attitude? She is lodging her -<span class="pageNum" id="pb197">[<a href="#pb197">197</a>]</span>eggs in the house which she has just left; she is bequeathing the maternal cottage -to her heirs. Some thirty hours pass and the ovipositor is at last withdrawn. The -laying is finished. -</p> -<p>A little wadding, supplied by the coronet on the hind-quarters, closes the door and -allays the dangers of invasion. The fond mother makes a barricade for her brood of -the sole ornament which, in her extreme indigence, she possesses. Better still, she -makes a rampart of her body. Bracing herself convulsively on the threshold of her -home, she dies there, dries up there, devoted to her family even after death. It needs -an accident, a breath of air, to make her fall from her post. -</p> -<p>Let us now open the case. It contains the chrysalid wrapper, intact except for the -front breach through which the Psyche emerged. The male, because of his wings and -his plumes, very cumbersome articles when he is about to make his way through the -narrow pass, takes advantage of his chrysalis state to make a start for the door and -come out half-way. Then, bursting his amber tunic, the delicate Moth finds an open -space, where <span class="pageNum" id="pb198">[<a href="#pb198">198</a>]</span>flight is possible, right in front of him. The mother, unprovided with wings and plumes, -is not compelled to observe any such precautions. Her cylindrical form, bare and differing -but little from that of the caterpillar, allows her to crawl, to slip into the narrow -passage and to come forth without obstacle. Her cast chrysalid skin is, therefore, -left right at the back of the case, well covered by the thatched roof. -</p> -<p>And this is an act of prudence marked by exquisite tenderness. The eggs, in fact, -are packed in the barrel, in the parchmentlike wallet formed by the slough. The mother -has thrust her telescopic ovipositor to the bottom of that receptacle and has methodically -gone on laying until it is full. Not satisfied with bequeathing her home and her velvet -coronet to her offspring, as a last sacrifice she leaves them her skin. -</p> -<p>With a view to observing at my ease the events which are soon to happen, I extract -one of these chrysalid bags, stuffed with eggs, from its faggot and place it by itself, -beside its case, in a glass tube. I have not long to wait. In the first week of July, -I find myself all of a sudden in possession of a large family. <span class="pageNum" id="pb199">[<a href="#pb199">199</a>]</span>The quickness of the hatching balked my watchfulness. The new-born caterpillars, about -forty in number, have already had time to garb themselves. -</p> -<p>They wear a Persian head-dress, a mage’s tiara in dazzling white plush. Or, to abandon -high-flown language, let us say a cotton night-cap without a tassel; only the cap -does not stand up from the head: it covers the hind-quarters. Great animation reigns -in the tube, which is a spacious residence for such vermin. They roam about gaily, -with their caps sticking up almost perpendicular to the floor. With a tiara like that -and things to eat, life must be sweet indeed. -</p> -<p>But what do they eat? I try a little of everything that grows on the bare stone and -the gnarled old trees. Nothing is welcomed. More eager to dress than to feed themselves, -the Psyches scorn what I set before them. My ignorance as an insect-breeder will not -matter, provided that I succeed in seeing with what materials and in what manner the -first outlines of the cap are woven. -</p> -<p>I may fairly hope to achieve this ambition, as the chrysalid bag is far from having -exhausted its contents. I find in it, teeming <span class="pageNum" id="pb200">[<a href="#pb200">200</a>]</span>amid the rumpled wrapper of the eggs, an additional family as numerous as the swarm -that is already out. The total laying must therefore amount to five or six dozen. -I transfer to another receptacle the precocious band which is already dressed and -keep only the naked laggards in the tube. They have bright red heads, with the rest -of their bodies dirty white; and they measure hardly a twenty-fifth of an inch in -length. -</p> -<p>My patience is not long put to the test. Next day, little by little, singly or in -groups, the belated grubs quit the chrysalid bag. They come out without breaking the -frail wallet, through the front breach made by the liberation of the mother. Not one -of them utilizes it as a dress-material, though it has the delicacy and amber colouring -of an onion-skin; nor do any of them make use of a fine quilting which lines the inside -of the bag and forms an exquisitely soft bed for the eggs. This down, whose origin -we shall have to investigate presently, ought, one would say, to make an excellent -blanket for these chilly ones, impatient to cover themselves up. Not a single one -uses it; there would not be enough to go round. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb201">[<a href="#pb201">201</a>]</span></p> -<p>All go straight to the coarse faggot, which I left in contact with the wallet that -was the chrysalis. Time presses. Before making your entrance into the world and going -agrazing, you must first be clad. All therefore, with equal fury, attack the old sheath -and hastily dress themselves in the mother’s cast clothes. Some turn their attention -to bits that happen to be open lengthwise and scrape the soft, white inner layer; -others, greatly daring, penetrate into the tunnel of a hollow stalk and go and collect -their cotton goods in the dark. At such times the materials are first-class; and the -garment woven is of a dazzling white. Others bite deep into the piece which they select -and make themselves a motley garment, in which dark-coloured particles mar the snowy -whiteness of the rest. -</p> -<p>The tool which they use for their gleaning consists of the mandibles, shaped like -wide shears with five strong teeth apiece. The two planes fit into each other and -form an implement capable of seizing and slicing any fibre, however small. Seen under -the microscope, it is a wonderful specimen of mechanical precision and power. Were -the Sheep similarly equipped in proportion to her size, <span class="pageNum" id="pb202">[<a href="#pb202">202</a>]</span>she would browse upon the bottom of the trees instead of cropping the grass. -</p> -<p>A very instructive workshop is that of the Psyche-vermin toiling to make themselves -a cotton night-cap. There are numbers of things to remark in both the finish of the -work and the ingenuity of the methods employed. To avoid repeating ourselves, we will -say nothing about these yet, but wait for a little and return to the subject when -setting forth the talents of a second Psyche, of larger stature and easier to observe. -The two weavers observe exactly the same procedure. -</p> -<p>Nevertheless let us take a glance at the bottom of the egg-cup, a general workyard -in which I instal my dwarfs as the cases turn them out. There are some hundreds of -them, with the sheaths from which they came and an assortment of clipped stalks, chosen -from among the driest and richest in pith. What a whirl! What bewildering animation! -</p> -<p>In order to see man, Micromégas cut himself a lens out of a diamond of his necklace; -he held his breath lest the storm from his nostrils should blow the mite away. I in -my turn will be the good giant, newly arriving from Sirius; I screw a magnifying-glass -<span class="pageNum" id="pb203">[<a href="#pb203">203</a>]</span>into my eye and am careful not to breathe for fear of overturning and sweeping out -of existence my cotton-workers. If I need one of them, to focus him under a stronger -glass, I lime him as it were, seizing him with the fine point of a needle which I -have passed over my lips. Taken away from his work, the tiny caterpillar struggles -at the end of the needle, shrivels up, makes himself, small as he is, still smaller; -he strives to withdraw as far as possible into his clothing, which as yet is incomplete, -the merest flannel vest or even a narrow scarf, covering nothing but the top of his -shoulders. Let us leave him to complete his coat. I give a puff; and the creature -is swallowed up in the crater of the egg-cup. -</p> -<p>And this speck is alive. It is industrious; it is versed in the art of blanket-making. -An orphan, born that moment, it knows how to cut itself out of its dead mother’s old -clothes the wherewithal to clothe itself in its turn. Soon it will become a carpenter, -an assembler of timber, to make a defensive covering for its delicate fabric. What -must instinct be, to be capable of awakening such industries in an atom! -</p> -<p>It is at the end of June also that I obtain, <span class="pageNum" id="pb204">[<a href="#pb204">204</a>]</span>in his adult shape, the Psyche whose scabbard is continued underneath by a long, naked -vestibule. Most of the cases are fastened by a silk pad to the trelliswork of the -cage and hang vertically, like stalactites. Some few of them have never left the ground. -Half immersed in the sand, they stand erect, with their rear in the air and their -fore-part buried and firmly anchored to the side of the pan by means of a silky paste. -</p> -<p>This inverted position excludes any idea of weight as a guide in the caterpillar’s -preparations. An adept at turning round in his cabin, he is careful, before he sinks -into the immobility of pupadom, to turn his head now upwards, now downwards, towards -the opening, so that the adult insect, which is much less free than the larva in its -movements, may reach the outside without obstacle. -</p> -<p>Moreover, it is the pupa itself, the unbending chrysalis, incapable of turning and -obliged to move all in one piece, which, stubbornly crawling, carries the male to -the threshold of the case. It emerges half way at the end of the uncovered silky vestibule -and there breaks, obstructing the opening with its slough as it does so. For a time -the <span class="pageNum" id="pb205">[<a href="#pb205">205</a>]</span>Moth stands still on the roof of the cottage, allowing his humours to evaporate, his -wings to spread and gather strength; then at last the gallant takes flight, in search -of her for whose sake he has made himself so spruce. -</p> -<p>He wears a costume of deepest black, all except the edges of the wings, which, having -no scales, remain diaphanous. His antennæ, likewise black, are wide and graceful plumes. -Were they on a larger scale, they would throw the feathered beauty of the Marabou -and Ostrich into the shade. The bravely beplumed one visits case after case in his -tortuous flight, prying into the secrets of those alcoves. If things go as he wishes, -he settles, with a quick flutter of his wings, on the extremity of the denuded vestibule. -Comes the wedding, as discreet as that of the smaller Psyche. Here is yet another -who does not see or at most catches a fleeting glimpse of her for whose sake he has -donned Marabou-feathers and a black-velvet cloak. -</p> -<p>The recluse on her side is equally impatient. The lovers are short-lived; they die -in my cages within three or four days, so that, for long intervals, until the hatching -of some late-comer, the female population is <span class="pageNum" id="pb206">[<a href="#pb206">206</a>]</span>short of suitors. So, when the morning sun, already hot, strikes the cage, a very -singular spectacle is repeated many times before my eyes. The entrance to the vestibule -swells imperceptibly, opens and emits a mass of infinitely delicate down. A Spider’s -web, carded and made into wadding, would give nothing of such gossamer fineness. It -is a vaporous cloud. Then, from out of this incomparable eiderdown, appear the head -and fore-part of a very different sort of caterpillar from the original collector -of straws. -</p> -<p>It is the mistress of the house, the marriageable Moth, who, feeling her hour about -to come and failing to receive the expected visit, herself makes the advances and -goes, as far as she can, to meet her plumed swain. He does not come hastening up and -for good reason: there is not a male left in the establishment. For two or three hours -the poor forsaken one leans, without moving, from her window. Then, tired of waiting, -very gently she goes indoors again, backwards, and returns to her cell. -</p> -<p>Next day, the day after and later still, as long as her strength permits, she reappears -on her balcony, always in the morning, in the <span class="pageNum" id="pb207">[<a href="#pb207">207</a>]</span>soft rays of a warm sun and always on a sofa of that incomparable down, which disperses -and turns to vapour if I merely fan it with my hand. Again no one comes. For the last -time the disappointed Moth goes back to her boudoir, never to leave it again. She -dies in it, dries up, a useless thing. I hold my bell-jars responsible for this crime -against motherhood. In the open fields, without a doubt, sooner or later wooers would -have appeared, coming from the four winds. -</p> -<p>The said bell-jars have an even more pitiful catastrophe on their conscience. Sometimes, -leaning too far from her window, miscalculating the balance between the front of the -body, which is at liberty, and the back, which remains sheathed in its case, the Moth -allows herself to drop to the ground. It is all up now with the fallen one and her -lineage. Still, there is one good thing about it. Accidents such as this lay bare -the mother Psyche, without our having to break into her house. -</p> -<p>What a miserable creature she is, a great deal uglier than the original caterpillar! -Here transfiguration spells disfigurement, progress means retrogression. What we have -before our eyes is a wrinkled satchel, an <span class="pageNum" id="pb208">[<a href="#pb208">208</a>]</span>earthy-yellow sausage; and this horror, worse than a maggot, is a Moth in the full -bloom of life, a genuine adult Moth. She is the betrothed of the elegant black Bombyx, -all plumed with Marabou-feathers, and represents to him the last word in beauty. As -the proverb says, beauty lies in lovers’ eyes: a profound truth which the Psyche confirms -in striking fashion. -</p> -<p>Let us describe the ugly little sausage. A very small head, a paltry globule, disappearing -almost entirely in the folds of the first segment. What need is there of cranium and -brains for a germ-bag! And so the tiny creature almost does without them, reduces -them to the simplest expression. Nevertheless, there are two black ocular specks. -Do these vestigial eyes see their way about? Not very clearly, we may be sure. The -pleasures of light must be very small for this stay-at-home, who appears at her window -only on rare occasions, when the male Moth is late in arriving. -</p> -<p>The legs are well-shaped, but so short and weak that they are of no use at all for -locomotion. The whole body is a pale yellow, semitransparent in front, opaque and -stuffed <span class="pageNum" id="pb209">[<a href="#pb209">209</a>]</span>with eggs behind. Underneath the first segments is a sort of neck-band, that is to -say, a dark stain, the vestige of a crop showing through the skin. A pad of short -down ends the oviferous part at the back. It is all that remains of a fleece, of a -thin velvet which the insect rubs off as it moves backwards and forwards in its narrow -lodging. This forms the flaky mass which whitens the trysting-window at the wedding-time -and also lines the inside of the sheath with down. In short, the creature is little -more than a bag swollen with eggs for the best part of its length. I know nothing -lower in the scale of wretchedness. -</p> -<p>The germ-bag moves, but not, of course, with those vestiges of legs which form too -short and feeble supports; it gets about in a way that allows it to progress on its -back, belly or side indifferently. A groove is hollowed out at the hinder end of the -bag, a deep, dividing groove which cuts the insect into two. It runs to the front -part, spreading like a wave, and gently and slowly reaches the head. This undulation -constitutes a step. When it is done, the animal has advanced about a twenty-fifth -part of an inch. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb210">[<a href="#pb210">210</a>]</span></p> -<p>To go from one end to the other of a box two inches long and filled with fine sand, -the living sausage takes nearly an hour. It is by crawling like this that it moves -about in its case, when it comes to the threshold to meet its visitor and goes in -again. -</p> -<p>For three or four days, exposed to the roughness of the soil, the oviferous bag leads -a wretched life, creeping about at random, or, more often, standing still. No Moth -pays attention to the poor thing, who possesses no attractions outside her home; the -lovers pass by with an indifferent air. This coolness is logical enough. Why should -she become a mother, if her family is to be abandoned to the inclemencies of the public -way? And so, after falling by accident from her case, which would have been the cradle -of the youngsters, the wanderer withers in a few days and dies childless. -</p> -<p>The fertilized ones—and these are the more numerous—the prudent ones who have saved -themselves from a fall by being less lavish with their appearances at the window, -reenter the sheath and do not show themselves again once the Moth’s visit to the threshold -is over. Let us wait a fortnight <span class="pageNum" id="pb211">[<a href="#pb211">211</a>]</span>and then open the case lengthwise with our scissors. At the end, in the widest part, -opposite the vestibule, is the slough of the chrysalis, a long, fragile, amber-coloured -sack, open at the end that contains the head, the end facing the exit-passage. In -this sack, which she fills like a mould, lies the mother, the egg-bladder, now giving -no sign of life. -</p> -<p>From this amber sheath, which presents all the usual characteristics of a chrysalis, -the adult Psyche emerged, in the guise of a shapeless Moth, looking like a big maggot; -at the present time, she has slipped back into her old jacket, moulding herself into -it in such a way that it becomes difficult to separate the container from the contents. -One would take the whole thing for a single body. -</p> -<p>It seems very likely that this cast skin, which occupies the best place in the home, -formed the Psyche’s refuge when, weary of waiting on the threshold of her hall, she -retired to the back room. She has therefore gone in and out repeatedly. This constant -going and coming, this continual rubbing against the sides of a narrow corridor, just -wide enough for her to pass through, ended <span class="pageNum" id="pb212">[<a href="#pb212">212</a>]</span>by stripping her of her down. She had a fleece to start with, a very light and scanty -fleece, it is true, but still a vestige of the costume which Moths are wont to wear. -This fluff she has lost. What has she done with it? -</p> -<p>The Eider robs herself of her down to make a luxurious bed for her brood; the new-born -Rabbits lie on a mattress which their mother cards for them with the softest part -of her fur, shorn from the belly and neck, wherever the shears of her front teeth -can reach it. This fond tenderness is shared by the Psyche, as you will see. -</p> -<p>In front of the chrysalid bag is an abundant mass of extra-fine wadding, similar to -that of which a few flocks used to fall outside on the occasions when the recluse -went to her window. Is it silk? Is it spun muslin? No; but it is something of incomparable -delicacy. The microscope recognizes it as the scaly dust, the impalpable down in which -every Moth is clad. To give a snug shelter to the little caterpillars who will soon -be swarming in the case, to provide them with a refuge in which they can play about -and gather strength before entering the wide <span class="pageNum" id="pb213">[<a href="#pb213">213</a>]</span>world, the Psyche has stripped herself of her fur like the mother Rabbit. -</p> -<p>This denudation may be a mere mechanical result, an unintentional effect of repeated -rubbing against the low-roofed walls; but there is nothing to tell us so. Maternity -has its foresight, even among the humblest. I therefore picture the hairy Moth twisting -about, going to and fro in the narrow passage in order to get rid of the fleece and -prepare bedding for her offspring. It is even possible that she manages to use her -lips, that vestige of a mouth, in order to pull out the down that refuses to come -away of itself. -</p> -<p>No matter what the method of shearing may be, a mound of scales and hairs fills up -the case in front of the chrysalid bag. For the moment, it is a barricade preventing -access to the house, which is open at the hinder end; soon, it will be a downy couch -on which the little caterpillars will rest for a while after leaving the egg. Here, -warmly ensconced in a rug of extreme softness, they call a halt as a preparation for -the emergence and the work that follows it. -</p> -<p>Not that silk is lacking: on the contrary, it abounds. The caterpillar lavished it -during <span class="pageNum" id="pb214">[<a href="#pb214">214</a>]</span>his time as a spinner and a picker-up of straws. The whole interior of the case is -padded with thick white satin. But how greatly preferable to this too-compact and -luxurious upholstery is the delightful eiderdown bedding of the new-born youngsters! -</p> -<p>We know the preparations made for the coming family. Now, where are the eggs? At what -spot are they laid? The smallest of my three Psyches, who is less misshapen than the -others and freer in her movements, leaves her case altogether. She possesses a long -ovipositor and inserts it, through the exit-hole, right into the chrysalid slough, -which is left where it was in the form of a bag. This slough receives the laying. -When the operation is finished and the bag of eggs is full, the mother dies outside, -hanging on to the case. -</p> -<p>The two other Psyches, who do not carry telescopic ovipositors and whose only method -of changing their position is a dubious sort of crawling, have more singular customs -to show us. One might quote with regard to them what used to be said of the Roman -matrons, those model mothers: -</p> -<p>“<i lang="la">Domi mansit, lanam fecit.</i>” -<span class="pageNum" id="pb215">[<a href="#pb215">215</a>]</span></p> -<p>Yes, <i lang="la">lanam fecit</i>. The Psyche does not really work the wool on the distaff; but at least she bequeathes -to her sons her own fleece converted into a heap of wadding. Yes, <i lang="la">domi mansit</i>. She never leaves her house, not even for her wedding, not even for the purpose of -laying her eggs. -</p> -<p>We have seen how, after receiving the visit of the male, the shapeless Moth, that -uncouth sausage, retreats to the back of her case and withdraws into her chrysalid -slough, which she fills exactly, just as though she had never left it. The eggs are -in their place then and there; they occupy the regulation sack favoured by the various -Psyches. Of what use would a laying be now? Strictly speaking, there is none, in fact; -that is to say, the eggs do not leave the mother’s womb. The living pouch which has -engendered them keeps them within itself. -</p> -<p>Soon this bag loses its moisture by evaporation; it dries up and at the same time -remains sticking to the chrysalid wrapper, that firm support. Let us open the thing. -What does the magnifying-glass show us? A few trachean threads, lean bundles of muscles, -nervous ramifications, in short, the relics of <span class="pageNum" id="pb216">[<a href="#pb216">216</a>]</span>a form of vitality reduced to its simplest expression. Taken all around, very nearly -nothing. The rest of the contents is a mass of eggs, an agglomeration of germs numbering -close upon three hundred. In a word, the insect is one enormous ovary, assisted by -just so much as enables it to perform its functions. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb217">[<a href="#pb217">217</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e1644"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1644src">1</a></span> <i lang="la">Psyche unicolor</i>, <span class="sc">Hufn.</span>; <i lang="la">P. graminella</i>, <span class="sc">Schiffermüller</span>.—<i>Author’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1644src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e1679"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1679src">2</a></span> As far as can be judged from the case only, <i lang="la">Psyche febretta</i>, <span class="sc">Boyer de Fonscolombe</span>.—<i>Author’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1679src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e1691"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1691src">3</a></span> <i lang="la">Fumea comitella</i> and <i lang="la">F. intermediella</i>, <span class="sc">Bruand</span>.—<i>Author’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1691src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch10" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e275">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label">CHAPTER X</h2> -<h2 class="main">THE PSYCHES: THE CASES</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">The hatching of the eggs takes place in the first fortnight of July. The little grubs -measure about one twenty-fifth of an inch. Their head and the upper part of the first -thoracic segment are a glossy black, the next two segments brownish and the rest of -the body a pale amber. Sharp, lively little creatures, who run about with short, quick -steps, they swarm all over the spongy, hairy tissue resulting from the cast-off clothing -of the eggs. -</p> -<p>The books tell me that the little Psyches begin by eating up their mother: a loathsome -banquet for which the said books must accept responsibility. I see nothing of the -sort; and I do not even understand how the idea arose. The mother bequeaths to her -sons her case, whose straws are searched for wadding, the material of the first coat; -out of her chrysalid slough and her skin she makes them a two-fold shelter for the -hatching-time; with <span class="pageNum" id="pb218">[<a href="#pb218">218</a>]</span>her down she prepares a defensive barricade for them and a place wherein to wait before -emerging. Thus all is given, all spent with a view to the future. Save for some thin, -dry strips which my lens can only with difficulty distinguish, there is nothing left -that could provide a cannibal feast for so numerous a family. -</p> -<p>No, my little Psyches, you do not eat your mother. In vain do I watch you: never, -either to clothe or to feed himself, does any one of you lay a tooth upon the remains -of the deceased. The maternal skin is left untouched, as are those other insignificant -relics, the layer of muscular tissue and the network of air-ducts. The sack left behind -by the chrysalis also remains intact. -</p> -<p>The time comes to quit the natal wallet. An outlet has been contrived long beforehand, -saving the youngsters from committing any act of violence against what was once their -mother. There is no sacrilegious cutting to be done with the shears; the door opens -of itself. -</p> -<p>When she was a wriggling speck of sausage, the mother’s front segments were remarkably -translucent, forming a contrast with <span class="pageNum" id="pb219">[<a href="#pb219">219</a>]</span>the rest of the body. This was very probably a sign of a less dense and less tough -texture than elsewhere. The sign is not misleading. The dry gourd to which the mother -is now reduced has for a neck those diaphanous rings, which, as they withered, became -extremely fragile. Does this neck, this operculum fall of its own accord, or is it -pushed off by the pigmies impatient to get away? I do not know for certain. This, -however, I can say, that blowing on it is enough to make it drop off. -</p> -<p>In anticipation therefore of the emergence, an exceedingly easy and perhaps even spontaneous -method of decapitation is prepared in the mother’s lifetime. To manufacture a delicate -neck for yourself so that you may be easily beheaded at the proper time and thus leave -the way free to the youngsters is an act of devotion in which the most unconscious -maternal affection stands sublimely revealed. That miserable maggot, that sausage -Moth, scarce able to crawl and yet so clear-sighted where the future is concerned, -staggers the mind of any one who knows how to think. -</p> -<p>The brood emerge from the natal wallet through the window just opened by the fall -of <span class="pageNum" id="pb220">[<a href="#pb220">220</a>]</span>the head. The chrysalid sack, the second wrapper, presents no obstacle; it has remained -open since the adult Psyche left it. Next comes the mass of eiderdown, the heap of -fluff of which the mother stripped herself. Here the little caterpillars stop. Much -more spaciously and comfortably lodged than in the bag whence they have come, some -take a rest, others bustle about, exercise themselves in walking. All pick up strength -in preparation for their exodus into the daylight. -</p> -<p>They do not stay long amid this luxury. Gradually, as they gain vigour, they come -out and spread over the surface of the case. Work begins at once, a very urgent work, -that of the wardrobe. The first mouthfuls will come afterwards, when we are dressed. -</p> -<p>Montaigne, when putting on the cloak which his father had worn before him, used a -touching expression. He said: -</p> -<p>“I dress myself in my father.” -</p> -<p>The young Psyches in the same way dress themselves in their mother: they cover themselves -with the clothes left behind by the deceased, they scrape from it the wherewithal -to make themselves a cotton frock. The material employed is the pith of the little -stalks, <span class="pageNum" id="pb221">[<a href="#pb221">221</a>]</span>especially of the pieces which, split lengthwise, are more easily stripped of their -contents. The grub first finds a spot to suit it. Having done so, it gleans, it planes -with its mandibles. Thus a superbly white wadding is extracted from old logs. -</p> -<p>The manner of beginning the garment is worth noting. The tiny creature employs as -judicious a method as any which our own industry could hope to discover. The wadding -is collected in infinitesimal pellets. How are these little particles to be fixed -as and when they are detached by the shears of the mandibles? The manufacturer needs -a support, a base; and this support cannot be obtained on the caterpillar’s own body, -for any adherence would be seriously embarrassing and would hamper freedom of movement. -The difficulty is overcome very cleverly. Scraps of plush are gathered and by degrees -fastened to one another with threads of silk. This forms a sort of rectilinear garland -in which the particles collected swing from a common rope. When these preparations -are deemed sufficient, the little creature passes the garland round its waist, at -about the third segment of the thorax, so as to leave its six legs free; <span class="pageNum" id="pb222">[<a href="#pb222">222</a>]</span>then it ties the two ends with a bit of silk. The result is a girdle, generally incomplete, -but soon completed with other scraps fastened to the silk ribbon that carries everything. -</p> -<p>This girdle is the base of the work, the support. Henceforth, to lengthen the piece, -to enlarge it into the perfect garment, the grub has only to fix, always at the fore-edge, -with the aid of its spinnerets, now at the top, now at the bottom or side, the scraps -of pith which the mandibles never cease extracting. Nothing could be better thought -out than this initial garland laid out flat and then buckled like a belt around the -loins. -</p> -<p>Once this base is laid, the weaving-loom is in full swing. The piece woven is first -a tiny string around the waist; next, by the addition of fresh pellets, always at -the fore-edge, it grows into a scarf, a waistcoat, a short jacket and lastly a sack, -which gradually makes its way backwards, not of itself, but through the action of -the weaver, who slips forward in the part of the case already made. In a few hours, -the garment is completed. It is by that time a conical hood, a cloak of magnificent -whiteness and finish. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb223">[<a href="#pb223">223</a>]</span></p> -<p>We now know all about it. On leaving the maternal hut, without searching, without -distant expeditions which would be so dangerous at that age, the little Psyche finds -in the tender beams of the roof the wherewithal to clothe himself. He is spared the -perils of roaming in a state of nudity. When he leaves the house, he will be quite -warm, thanks to the mother, who takes care to instal her family in the old case and -gives it choice materials to work with. -</p> -<p>If the grub-worm were to drop out of the hovel, if some gust of wind swept him to -a distance, most often the poor mite would be lost. Ligneous straws, rich in pith, -dry and retted to a turn, are not to be found everywhere. It would mean the impossibility -of any clothing and, in that dire poverty, an early death. But, if suitable materials -are encountered, equal in quality to those bequeathed by the mother, how is it that -the exile is unable to make use of them? Let us look into this. -</p> -<p>I segregate a few new-born grubs in a glass tube and give them for their materials -some split pieces of straw, picked from among the old stalks of a sort of dandelion, -<i lang="la">Pterotheca <span class="pageNum" id="pb224">[<a href="#pb224">224</a>]</span>nemausensis</i>. Though robbed of the inheritance of the maternal manor, the grubs seem very well -satisfied with my bits. Without the least hesitation, they scrape out of them a superb -white pith and make it into a delicious cloak, much handsomer than that which they -would have obtained with the ruins of the native house, this latter cloak being always -more or less flawed with darker materials, whose colour has been impaired by long -exposure to the air. On the other hand, the Nîmes dandelion, a relic of last spring, -has its central part, which I myself lay bare, a spotless white; and the cotton nightcap -achieves the very perfection of whiteness. -</p> -<p>I obtain an even better result with rounds of sorghum-pith taken from the kitchen-broom. -This time, the work has glittering crystalline points and looks like a thing built -of grains of sugar. It is my manufacturers’ masterpiece. -</p> -<p>These two successes authorize me to vary the raw material still further. In the absence -of new-born caterpillars, who are not always at my disposal, I employ grubs which -I have undressed, that is to say, which I have taken out of their caps. To these divested -ones I <span class="pageNum" id="pb225">[<a href="#pb225">225</a>]</span>give, as the only thing to work upon, a strip of paper free from paste and easy to -pick to pieces, in short, a piece of blotting-paper. -</p> -<p>Here again there is no hesitation. The grubs lustily scrape this surface, new to them -though it be, and make themselves a paper coat of it. Cadet Roussel,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1889src" href="#xd31e1889">1</a> of famous memory, had a coat of similar stuff, but much less fine and silky. My paper-clad -charges are so well-pleased with their materials that they scorn their native case, -when it is afterwards placed at their disposal, and continue to scrape lint from the -industrial product. -</p> -<p>Others are given nothing in their tube, but are able to get at the cork that closes -the glass dwelling-house. This is enough. The undraped ones hasten to scrape the cork, -to break it into atoms and out of these to make themselves a granulated frock, as -faultlessly elegant as though their race had always made use of this material. The -novelty of the stuff, employed perhaps for the first time, has made no change in the -cut of the coat. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb226">[<a href="#pb226">226</a>]</span></p> -<p>To sum up, they accept any vegetable matter that is dry, light and not too resistant. -Would they behave likewise towards animal materials and especially mineral materials, -on condition that these are of a suitable thinness? I take a Great Peacock’s wing, -left over from my experiments in the nuptial telegraphy of this Moth,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1899src" href="#xd31e1899">2</a> and cut from it a strip on which I place, at the bottom of a tube, two little caterpillars -stripped of their clothing. The two prisoners have nothing else at their disposal. -Any drapery that they want must be got out of this scaly expanse. -</p> -<p>They hesitate for a long time in the presence of that strange carpet. In twenty-four -hours’ time, one of the caterpillars has started no work and seems resolved to let -himself die, naked as he is. The other, stouter-hearted, or perhaps less injured by -the brutal stripping-process, explores the slip for a little while and at last resolves -to make use of it. Before the day is over, he has clothed himself in grey velvet out -of the Great Peacock’s scales. Considering the delicacy of the materials, the work -is exquisitely correct. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb227">[<a href="#pb227">227</a>]</span></p> -<p>Let us go a step farther in our explorations. For the soft, yielding wadding collected -from a plant, or the down gleaned from the wing of a Moth, we will substitute rough -stone. In their final state, I know, the Psyches’ cases are often laden with grains -of sand and earthy particles; but these are accidental bricks, which have been inadvertently -touched by the spinneret and incorporated unintentionally in the thatch. The delicate -creatures know too well the drawbacks of a pebbly pillow to seek the support of stone. -Mineral matter is distasteful to them; and it is mineral matter that now has to be -worked like wool. -</p> -<p>True, I select such stones in my collection as are least out of keeping with the feeble -powers of my grubs. I possess a specimen of flaky hematite. At the merest touch of -a hair-pencil it breaks into atoms almost as minute as the dust which a Butterfly’s -wing leaves on our fingers. On a bed of this material, which glitters like a steel -filing, I establish four young caterpillars extracted from their clothing. I foresee -a check in this experiment and consequently increase the number of my subjects. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb228">[<a href="#pb228">228</a>]</span></p> -<p>It is as I thought. The day passes and the four caterpillars remain bare. Next day, -however, one, one alone, decides to clothe himself. His work is a tiara with metallic -facets, in which the light plays with flashes of every colour of the rainbow. It is -very rich, very sumptuous, but mightily heavy and cumbrous. Walking becomes laborious -under that load of metal. Even so must a Byzantine emperor have progressed at ceremonies -of state, after donning his gold-worked dalmatic. -</p> -<p>Poor little creature! More sensible than man, you did not select that ridiculous magnificence -of your own free will; it was I who forced it on you. Here, to make amends, is a disk -of sorghum-pith. Fling off your proud tiara, thrust it from you quickly and place -in its stead a cotton night-cap, which is much healthier. This is done on the second -day. -</p> -<p>The Psyche has his favourite materials when starting as a manufacturer: a vegetable -lint collected from any ligneous scrap well softened by the air, a lint usually supplied -by the old roof of the maternal hut. In the absence of the regulation fabric, he is -able to make use of animal velvet, in particular of the <span class="pageNum" id="pb229">[<a href="#pb229">229</a>]</span>scaly fluff of a Moth. In case of necessity, he does not shrink from acts of sheer -madness: he weaves mineral matter, so urgent is his need to clothe himself. -</p> -<p>This need outweighs that of nourishment. I take a young caterpillar from his grazing-ground, -a leaf of very hairy hawkweed which, after many attempts, I have found to suit him -as food because of its green blade and as wool because of its white fleece. I take -him, I say, from his refectory and leave him to fast for a couple of days. Then I -strip him and put him back on his leaf. And I see him, unmindful of eating, in spite -of his long fast, first labouring to make himself a new coat by collecting the hairs -of the hawkweed. His appetite will be satisfied afterwards. -</p> -<p>Is he then so susceptible to cold? We are in the midst of the dog-days. The sun shoots -down a fiery torrent that brings the wild concert of the Cicadæ up to fever-pitch. -In the baking heat of the study where I am questioning my animals, I have flung off -hat and necktie and am working in my shirt-sleeves; and, in this oven, what the Psyche -clamours for is, above all things, a warm covering. Well, little shiverer, I will -satisfy you! -<span class="pageNum" id="pb230">[<a href="#pb230">230</a>]</span></p> -<p>I expose him to the direct rays of the sun, on the window-ledge. This time, it is -too much of a good thing; I have gone beyond all bounds. The sun-scorched one wriggles -about, flourishes his abdomen, always a sign of discomfort. But the making of the -hawkweed cassock is not suspended on this account; on the contrary, it is pursued -more hurriedly than ever. Could this be because of the excessive light? Is not the -cotton-wool bag a retreat wherein the caterpillar isolates himself, sheltering from -the importunities of broad daylight, and gently digests and sleeps? Let us get rid -of the light, while retaining a warm temperature. -</p> -<p>After a preliminary stripping, the little caterpillars are now lodged in a cardboard -box, which I place in the sunniest corner of my window. The temperature here is well -over 100° F. No matter: the swan’s-down sack is remade at a sitting of a few hours. -Tropical heat and the quiet that goes with darkness have made no difference in the -insect’s habits. -</p> -<p>Neither the degree of heat nor the degree of light explains the pressing need of raiment. -Where are we to seek the reason for <span class="pageNum" id="pb231">[<a href="#pb231">231</a>]</span>that hurry to get clad? I can see none save a presentiment of the future. The Psyche -caterpillar has the winter before him. He knows nothing of a common shelter in a silken -purse, of cabins among close-touching leaves, of underground cells, of retreats under -old cracked bark, of hairy roofs, of cocoons, in short of the different methods employed -by other caterpillars to protect themselves against the severity of the weather. He -has to spend the winter exposed to the inclemencies of the air. This peril causes -his particular talent. -</p> -<p>He builds himself a roof whose imbricated and diverging stalks will allow cold dews -and drops of melted snow to trickle away at a distance, when the case is fixed and -hanging vertically. Under this covering, he weaves a thick silk lining, which will -make a soft mattress and a rampart against the effects of the cold. Once these precautions -are taken, the winter may come and the north wind rage: the Psyche is sleeping peacefully -in his hut. -</p> -<p>But all this is not improvised as the stormy season approaches. It is a delicate work -which takes time to carry out. All his life-long <span class="pageNum" id="pb232">[<a href="#pb232">232</a>]</span>the caterpillar labours at it, improving it, adding to it, strengthening it incessantly. -And, in order to acquire greater skill, he begins his apprenticeship at the moment -when he leaves the egg. As preliminary practice for the thick overcoat of full-grown -age, he tries his hand on cotton capes. Even so does the Pine Processionary, as soon -as hatched, weave first delicate tents, then gauzy cupolas, as harbingers of the mighty -wallet in which the community will make its home. Both alike are harassed from the -day of their birth by the presentiment of the future; they start life by binding themselves -apprentices to the trade that is to safeguard them one day. -</p> -<p>No, the Psyche is not more sensitive to cold than any other smooth-skinned caterpillar; -he is a creature of foresight. Deprived in winter of the shelters granted to the others, -he prepares himself, from his birth, for the building of a home that will be his salvation -and practises for it by making fripperies of wadding suited to his strength. He foresees -the rigours of winter during the blazing dog-days. -</p> -<p>They are now all clad, my young caterpillars, <span class="pageNum" id="pb233">[<a href="#pb233">233</a>]</span>numbering nearly a thousand. They wander restlessly in large glass receptacles, closed -with a sheet of glass. What do you seek, little ones, swinging your pretty, snow-white -cloaks as you go? Food, of course. After all that fatigue, you need refreshment. Despite -your numbers, you will not be too heavy a burden on my resources: you can manage with -so little! But what do you ask for? You certainly do not count on me for your supplies. -In the open fields you would have found victuals to your liking much more easily than -I can hope to find them for you. Since my wish to know all about you places you in -my charge, I have a duty which I must observe: that of feeding you. What do you want? -</p> -<p>The part of Providence is a very difficult one to play. The purveyor of foodstuffs, -thinking of the morrow, taking his precautions so that the home may be always more -or less supplied, performs the most deserving but also the most laborious of functions. -The little ones wait trustingly, persuaded that things happen of themselves, while -he anxiously resorts to every kind of ingenuity and trouble, wondering whether the -right thing <span class="pageNum" id="pb234">[<a href="#pb234">234</a>]</span>will come. Ah, how well long practice has taught me to know the trade, with all its -worries and all its joys! -</p> -<p>Behold me to-day the Providence of a thousand nurselings thrust upon me by my studies. -I try a little of everything. The tender leaves of the elm appear to suit. If I serve -them up one day, I find them next morning nibbled on the surface, in small patches. -Tiny grains of impalpable black dust, scattered here and there, tell me that the intestines -have been at work. This gives me a moment of satisfaction which will be readily understood -by any breeder of a herd whose diet is unknown. The hope of success gains strength: -I know how to feed my vermin. Have I discovered the best method at the first attempt? -I dare not think so. -</p> -<p>I continue therefore to vary the fare, but the results hardly come up to my wishes. -The flock refuses my assorted green stuff and even ends by taking a dislike to the -elm-leaves. I am beginning to believe that I have failed utterly, when a happy inspiration -occurs to me. I have recognized among the bits that go to form the case a few fragments -of the mouse-ear hawkweed (<i lang="la">Hieracium pilosella</i>). So the <span class="pageNum" id="pb235">[<a href="#pb235">235</a>]</span>Psyche frequents that plant. Why should he not browse it? Let us try. -</p> -<p>The mouse-ear displays its little round flowers in profusion in a stony field just -beside my house, at the foot of the wall where I have so often found Psyche-cases -hanging. I gather a handful and distribute it among my different folds. This time -the food-problem is solved. The Psyches forthwith settle in solid masses on the hairy -leaves and nibble at them greedily in small patches, in which the epidermis of the -other surface remains untouched. -</p> -<p>We will leave them to their grazing, with which they seem quite satisfied, and ask -ourselves a certain question relating to cleanliness. How does the little Psyche get -rid of his digestive refuse? Remember that he is enclosed in a sack. One dare not -entertain the thought of ordure ejected and accumulating at the far end of the dazzling -white plush cap. Filth cannot dwell under so elegant a covering. How is the sordid -evacuation managed? -</p> -<p>Despite the fact that it ends in a conical point, in which the lens reveals no break -of continuity, the sack is not closed at the hinder <span class="pageNum" id="pb236">[<a href="#pb236">236</a>]</span>end. Its method of manufacture, by means of a waistband whose fore-edge increases -in dimensions in proportion as the rear-edge is pushed farther back, proves this sufficiently. -The hinder end becomes pointed simply owing to the shrinking of the material, which -contracts of itself at the part where the caterpillar’s decreasing diameter no longer -distends it. There is thus at the point a permanent hole whose lips remain closed. -The caterpillar has only to go a little way back and the stuff expands, the hole widens, -the road is open and the excretions fall to the ground. On the other hand, so soon -as the caterpillar takes a step forward into his case, the rubbish-shoot closes of -itself. It is a very simple and very ingenious mechanism, as good as anything contrived -by our seamstresses to cope with the shortcomings of a boy’s first pair of breeches. -</p> -<p>Meanwhile the grub grows and its tunic continues to fit it, is neither too large nor -too small, but just the right size. How is this done? If the text-books were to be -credited, I might expect to see the caterpillar split his sheath lengthwise when it -became too tight and afterwards enlarge it by means of a piece <span class="pageNum" id="pb237">[<a href="#pb237">237</a>]</span>woven between the edges of the rent. That is what our tailors do; but it is not the -Psyches’ method at all. They know something much better. They keep on working at their -coat, which is old at the back, new in front and always a perfect fit for the growing -body. -</p> -<p>Nothing is easier than to watch the daily progress in size. A few caterpillars have -just made themselves a hood of sorghum-pith. The work is perfectly beautiful; it might -have been woven out of snow-flakes. I isolate these smartly-dressed ones and give -them as weaving-materials some brown scales chosen from the softest parts that I can -find in old bark. Between morning and evening, the hood assumes a new appearance: -the tip of the cone is still a spotless white, but all the front part is coarse drapery, -very different in colouring from the original plush. Next day, the sorghum felt has -wholly disappeared and is replaced, from one end of the cone to the other, by a frieze -of bark. -</p> -<p>I then take away the brown materials and put sorghum-pith in their stead. This time -the coarse, dark stuff retreats gradually towards the top of the hood, while the soft, -white stuff gains in width, starting from the <span class="pageNum" id="pb238">[<a href="#pb238">238</a>]</span>mouth. Before the day is over, the original elegant mitre will be reconstructed entirely. -</p> -<p>This alternation can be repeated as often as we please. Indeed, by shortening each -period of work, we can easily obtain, with the two sorts of material, composite products, -showing alternate light and dark belts. -</p> -<p>The Psyche, as you see, in no way follows the methods of our tailors, with their piece -taken out and another piece let in. In order to have a coat always to his size, he -never ceases working at it. The particles collected are constantly being fixed just -at the edge of the sack, so that the new drapery increases progressively in dimensions, -keeping pace with the caterpillar’s growth. At the same time the old stuff recedes, -is driven back towards the tip of the cone. Here, through its own springiness, it -contracts and closes the muff. Any surplus matter disintegrates, falls into shreds -and gradually disappears as the insect roams about and knocks against the things which -it meets. The case, new at the front and old at the back, is never too tight because -it is always being renewed. -</p> -<p>After the very hot period of the year, there comes a moment when light wraps are no -<span class="pageNum" id="pb239">[<a href="#pb239">239</a>]</span>longer seasonable. Autumnal rains threaten, followed by winter frosts. It is time -to make ourselves a thick great-coat with a cape of thatch arranged in a series of -waterproof tippets. It begins with a great lack of accuracy. Straws of uneven length -and bits of dry leaves are fastened, with no attempt at order, behind the neck of -the sack, which must still retain its flexibility so as to allow the caterpillar to -bend freely in every direction. -</p> -<p>Few as yet, rather short and placed anyhow, sometimes lengthways and sometimes across, -these untidy first logs of the roof will not interfere with the final regularity of -the building: they are destined to disappear and will be pushed back and be driven -out at last as the sack grows in front. -</p> -<p>Later on, when the pieces are longer and better-chosen, they are all carefully laid -longitudinally. The placing of a straw is done with surprising quickness and dexterity. -If the log which he has found suits him, the caterpillar takes it between his legs -and turns it round and round. Gripping it with his mandibles by one end, as a rule -he removes a few morsels from this part and immediately fixes them to the neck of -the sack. His object <span class="pageNum" id="pb240">[<a href="#pb240">240</a>]</span>in laying bare the raw and rough surfaces, to which the silk will stick better, may -be to obtain a firmer hold. Even so the plumber gives a touch of the file at the point -that is to be soldered. -</p> -<p>Then, by sheer strength of jaw, the caterpillar lifts his beam, brandishes it in the -air and, with a quick movement of his rump, lays it on his back. The spinneret at -once sets to work on the end caught. And the thing is done: without any groping about -or correcting, the log is added to the others, in the direction required. -</p> -<p>The fine days of autumn are spent in toil of this kind, performed leisurely and intermittently, -when the stomach is full. By the time that the cold weather arrives, the house is -ready. When the air is once more warm, the Psyche resumes his walks abroad: he roams -along the paths, strolls over the friendly greensward, takes a few mouthfuls and then, -when the hour has come, prepares for his transformation by hanging from the wall. -</p> -<p>These springtime wanderings, long after the case is completely finished, made me want -to know if the caterpillar would be capable of repeating his sack-weaving and roof-building -<span class="pageNum" id="pb241">[<a href="#pb241">241</a>]</span>operations. I take him out of his case and place him, stark naked, on a bed of fine, -dry sand. I give him as materials to work with some old stalks of Nîmes dandelion, -cut up into sticks of the same length as the pieces that make the case. -</p> -<p>The evicted insect disappears under the heap of ligneous straws and hurriedly starts -spinning, taking as pegs for its cords anything that its lips encounter: the bed of -sand underfoot, the canopy of twigs overhead. So doing, it binds together, in extricable -confusion, all the pieces touched by the spinneret, long and short, light and heavy, -at random. In the centre of this tangled scaffolding, a work is pursued of a quite -different nature from that of hut-building. The caterpillar weaves and does nothing -else, not even attempting to assemble into a proper roofing the materials of which -he is able to dispose. -</p> -<p>The Psyche owning a perfect case, when he resumes his activity with the fine weather, -scorns his old trade as an assembler of logs, a trade practised so zealously during -the previous summer. Now that his stomach is satisfied and his silk-glands distended, -he devotes his spare time solely to improving the quilting <span class="pageNum" id="pb242">[<a href="#pb242">242</a>]</span>of his case. The silky felt of the interior is never thick or soft enough to please -him. The thicker and softer it is, the better for his own comfort during the process -of transformation and for the safety of his family afterwards. -</p> -<p>Well, my knavish tricks have now robbed him of everything. Does he perceive the disaster? -Though the silk and timber at his disposal permit, does he dream of rebuilding the -shelter, so essential first to his chilly back and secondly to his family, who will -cut it up to make their first home? Not a bit of it. He slips under the mass of twigs -where I let it fall and there begins to work exactly as he would have done under normal -conditions. -</p> -<p>This shapeless roof and this sand on which the jumble of rafters are lying now represent -to the Psyche the walls of the regulation home; and, without in any way modifying -his labours to meet the exigencies of the moment, the caterpillar upholsters the surfaces -within his reach with the same zest that he would have displayed in adding new layers -to the quilted lining which has disappeared. Instead of being pasted on the proper -wall, the present hangings come in contact with the rough surface of the sand and -the hopeless tangle <span class="pageNum" id="pb243">[<a href="#pb243">243</a>]</span>of the straws; and the spinner takes no notice. -</p> -<p>The house is worse than ruined: it no longer exists. No matter: the caterpillar continues -his actual work; he loses sight of the real and upholsters the imaginary.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e1995src" href="#xd31e1995">3</a> And yet everything ought to apprise him of the absence of any roofing. The sack with -which he has managed to cover himself, very skilfully for that matter, is lamentably -flabby. It sags and rumples at every movement of the insect’s body. <span class="corr" id="xd31e2006" title="Source: Morerover">Moreover</span>, it is made heavy with sand and bristles with spikes in every direction, which catch -in the dust of the road and make all progress impossible. Thus anchored to the ground, -the caterpillar wastes his strength in efforts to shift his position. It takes him -hours to make a start and to move his cumbrous dwelling a fraction of an inch. -</p> -<p>With his normal case, in which all the beams are imbricated from front to back with -scientific precision, he gets along very nimbly. <span class="pageNum" id="pb244">[<a href="#pb244">244</a>]</span>His collection of logs, all fixed in front and all free at the back, forms a boat-shaped -sledge which slips and glides through obstacles without difficulty. But, though progress -be easy, retreat is impracticable, for each piece of the framework causes the thing -to stop, owing to its free end. -</p> -<p>Well, the sack of my victim is covered with laths pointing this way and that, just -in the position in which they happened to be caught by the spinneret, as it fastened -its threads here and there, indiscriminately. The bits in front are so many spurs -which dig into the sand and neutralize all efforts to advance; the bits at the side -are rakes whose resistance cannot be overcome. In such conditions, the insect is bound -to be stranded and to perish on the spot. -</p> -<p>If I were advising the caterpillar, I should say: -</p> -<p>“Go back to the art in which you excel; arrange your bundle neatly; point the cumbrous -pieces lengthwise, in an orderly fashion; do something to your sack, which hangs too -loosely; give it the necessary stiffness with a few props to act as a busk; do now, -in your distress, what you knew so well how to do before; <span class="pageNum" id="pb245">[<a href="#pb245">245</a>]</span>summon up your old carpentering-talents and you will be saved.” -</p> -<p>Useless advice! The time for carpentry is over. The hour has come for upholstering; -and he upholsters obstinately, padding a house which no longer exists. He will perish -miserably, cut up by the Ants, as the result of his too-rigid instinct. -</p> -<p>Many other instances have already told us as much. Like running water which does not -climb slopes and which does not flow back to its source, the insect never retraces -its actions. What is done is done and cannot be recommenced. The Psyche, but now a -clever carpenter, will die for want of knowing how to fix a beam. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb246">[<a href="#pb246">246</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e1889"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1889src">1</a></span> A fictitious character, a sort of dolt, created by some wit in a French regiment quartered -in Brabant about the year 1792. Cadet Roussel’s entertaining exploits were perpetuated -in a contemporary ballad.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1889src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e1899"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1899src">2</a></span> Cf. Chapter XI. of the present volume.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1899src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e1995"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e1995src">3</a></span> For other instances of what Fabre calls “the insect’s mental incapacity in the presence -of the accidental” I would refer the reader to one essay <i lang="la">inter alia</i>, entitled, <i>Some Reflections upon Insect Psychology</i>, which forms chap. vii. of <i>The Mason-bees</i>.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e1995src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch11" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e285">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XI</h2> -<h2 class="main">THE GREAT PEACOCK</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">It was a memorable evening. I shall call it the Great Peacock evening. Who does not -know the magnificent Moth, the largest in Europe, clad in maroon velvet with a necktie -of white fur? The wings, with their sprinkling of grey and brown, crossed by a faint -zig-zag and edged with smoky white, have in the centre a round patch, a great eye -with a black pupil and a variegated iris containing successive black, white, chestnut -and purple arcs. -</p> -<p>No less remarkable is the caterpillar, in colour an undecided yellow. On the top of -thinly-scattered tubercles, crowned with a palisade of black hairs, are set beads -of turquoise blue. His stout brown cocoon, so curious with its exit-shaft shaped like -an eel-trap, is usually fastened to the bark at the base of old almond-trees. The -caterpillar feeds on the leaves of the same tree. -</p> -<p>Well, on the morning of the 6th of May, a female emerges from her cocoon in my <span class="pageNum" id="pb247">[<a href="#pb247">247</a>]</span>presence, on the table of my insect-laboratory. I forthwith cloister her, still damp -with the humours of the hatching, under a wire-gauze bell-jar. For the rest, I cherish -no particular plans. I incarcerate her from mere habit, the habit of the observer -always on the look-out for what may happen. -</p> -<p>It was a lucky thought. At nine o’clock in the evening, just as the household is going -to bed, there is a great stir in the room next to mine. Little Paul, half-undressed, -is rushing about, jumping and stamping, knocking the chairs over like a mad thing. -I hear him call me: -</p> -<p>“Come quick!” he screams. “Come and see these Moths, big as birds! The room is full -of them!” -</p> -<p>I hurry in. There is enough to justify the child’s enthusiastic and hyperbolical exclamations, -an invasion as yet unprecedented in our house, a raid of giant Moths. Four are already -caught and lodged in a bird-cage. Others, more numerous, are fluttering on the ceiling. -</p> -<p>At this sight, the prisoner of the morning is recalled to my mind. -</p> -<p>“Put on your things, laddie,” I say to my <span class="pageNum" id="pb248">[<a href="#pb248">248</a>]</span>son. “Leave your cage and come with me. We shall see something interesting.” -</p> -<p>We run downstairs to go to my study, which occupies the right wing of the house. In -the kitchen I find the servant, who is also bewildered by what is happening and stands -flicking her apron at great Moths whom she took at first for Bats. -</p> -<p>The Great Peacock, it would seem, has taken possession of pretty well every part of -the house. What will it be around my prisoner, the cause of this incursion? Luckily, -one of the two windows of the study had been left open. The approach is not blocked. -</p> -<p>We enter the room, candle in hand. What we see is unforgetable. With a soft flick-flack -the great Moths fly around the bell-jar, alight, set off again, come back, fly up -to the ceiling and down. They rush at the candle, putting it out with a stroke of -their wings; they descend on our shoulders, clinging to our clothes, grazing our faces. -The scene suggests a wizard’s cave, with its whirl of Bats. Little Paul holds my hand -tighter than usual, to keep up his courage. -</p> -<p>How many of them are there? About a score. Add to these the number that have <span class="pageNum" id="pb249">[<a href="#pb249">249</a>]</span>strayed into the kitchen, the nursery and the other rooms of the house; and the total -of those who have arrived from the outside cannot fall far short of forty. As I said, -it was a memorable evening, this Great Peacock evening. Coming from every direction -and apprised I know not how, here are forty lovers eager to pay their respects to -the marriageable bride born that morning amid the mysteries of my study. -</p> -<p>For the moment let us disturb the swarm of wooers no further. The flame of the candle -is a danger to the visitors, who fling themselves into it madly and singe their wings. -We will resume the observation tomorrow with an experimental interrogatory thought -out beforehand. -</p> -<p>But first let us clear the ground and speak of what happens every night during the -week that my observation lasts. Each time it is pitch dark, between eight and ten -o’clock, when the Moths arrive one by one. It is stormy weather, the sky is very much -overcast and the darkness is so profound that even in the open air, in the garden, -far from the shadow of the trees, it is hardly possible to see one’s hand before one’s -face. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb250">[<a href="#pb250">250</a>]</span></p> -<p>In addition to this darkness there is the difficulty of access. The house is hidden -by tall plane-trees; it is approached by a walk thickly bordered with lilac- and rose-trees, -forming a sort of outer vestibule; it is protected against the mistral by clumps of -pines and screens of cypresses. Clusters of bushy shrubs make a rampart a few steps -away from the door. It is through this tangle of branches, in complete darkness, that -the Great Peacock has to tack about to reach the object of his pilgrimage. -</p> -<p>Under such conditions, the Brown Owl would not dare leave the hole in his olive-tree. -The Moth, better-endowed with his faceted optical organs than the night-bird with -its great eyes, goes forward without hesitating and passes through without knocking -against things. He directs his tortuous flight so skilfully that, despite the obstacles -overcome, he arrives in a state of perfect freshness, with his big wings intact, with -not a scratch upon him. The darkness is light enough for him. -</p> -<p>Even if we grant that it perceives certain rays unknown to common retinæ, this extraordinary -power of sight cannot be what <span class="pageNum" id="pb251">[<a href="#pb251">251</a>]</span>warns the Moth from afar and brings him hurrying to the spot. The distance and the -screens interposed make this quite impossible. -</p> -<p>Besides, apart from deceptive refractions, of which there is no question in this case, -the indications provided by light are so precise that we go straight to the thing -seen. Now the Moth sometimes blunders, not as to the general direction which he is -to take, but as to the exact spot where the interesting events are happening. I have -said that the children’s nursery, which is at the side of the house opposite my study, -the real goal of my visitors at the present moment, was occupied by the Moths before -I went there with a light in my hand. These certainly were ill-informed. There was -the same throng of hesitating visitors in the kitchen; but here the light of a lamp, -that irresistible lure to nocturnal insects, may have beguiled the eager ones. -</p> -<p>Let us consider only the places that were in the dark. In these there are several -stray Moths. I find them more or less everywhere around the actual spot aimed at. -For instance, when the captive is in my study, the visitors do not all enter by the -open window, the safe and direct road, only two or three <span class="pageNum" id="pb252">[<a href="#pb252">252</a>]</span>yards away from the caged prisoner. Several of them come in downstairs, wander about -the hall and at most reach the staircase, a blind alley barred at the top by a closed -door. -</p> -<p>These data tell us that the guests at this nuptial feast do not make straight for -their object, as they would if they derived their information from some kind of luminous -radiation, whether known or unknown to our physical science. It is something else -that apprises them from afar, leads them to the proximity of the exact spot and then -leaves the final discovery to the airy uncertainty of random searching. It is very -much like the way in which we ourselves are informed by hearing and smell, guides -which are far from accurate when we want to decide the precise point of origin of -the sound or the smell. -</p> -<p>What are the organs of information that direct the rutting Moth on his nightly pilgrimage? -One suspects the antennæ, which, in the males, do in fact seem to be questioning space -with their spreading tufts of feathers. Are those glorious plumes mere ornaments, -or do they at the same time play a part in the perception of the effluvia that guide -the enamoured swain? A conclusive <span class="pageNum" id="pb253">[<a href="#pb253">253</a>]</span>experiment seems to present no difficulty. Let us try it. -</p> -<p>On the day after the invasion, I find in the study eight of my visitors of the day -before. They are perched motionless on the transoms of the second window, which is -kept closed. The others, when their dance was over, about ten o’clock in the evening, -went out as they came in, that is to say, through the first window, which is left -open day and night. Those eight persevering ones are just what I want for my schemes. -</p> -<p>With a sharp pair of scissors, without otherwise touching the Moths, I cut off their -antennæ, near the base. The patients take hardly any notice of the operation. Not -one moves; there is scarcely a flutter of the wings. These are excellent conditions: -the wound does not seem at all serious. Undistraught by pain, the Moths bereft of -their horns will adapt themselves all the better to my plans. The rest of the day -is spent in placid immobility on the cross-bars of the window. -</p> -<p>There are still a few arrangements to be made. It is important in particular to shift -the scene of operations and not to leave the female before the eyes of the maimed -ones <span class="pageNum" id="pb254">[<a href="#pb254">254</a>]</span>at the moment when they resume their nocturnal flight, else the merit of their quest -would disappear. I therefore move the bell-jar with its captives and place it under -a porch at the other end of the house, some fifty yards from my study. -</p> -<p>When night comes, I go to make a last inspection of my eight victims. Six have flown -out through the open window; two remain behind, but these have dropped to the floor -and no longer have the strength to turn over if I lay them on their backs. They are -exhausted, dying. Pray do not blame my surgical work. This quick decreptitude occurs -invariably, even without the intervention of my scissors. -</p> -<p>Six, in better condition, have gone off. Will they return to the bait that attracted -them yesterday? Though deprived of their antennæ, will they be able to find the cage, -now put in another place, at a considerable distance from its original position? -</p> -<p>The cage is standing in the dark, almost in the open air. From time to time, I go -out with a lantern and a Butterfly-net. Each visitor is captured, examined, catalogued -and forthwith let loose in an adjoining room, of <span class="pageNum" id="pb255">[<a href="#pb255">255</a>]</span>which I close the door. This gradual elimination will enable me to tell the exact -number, with no risk of counting the same Moth more than once. Moreover, the temporary -gaol, which is spacious and bare, will in no way endanger the prisoners, who will -find a quiet retreat there and plenty of room. I shall take similar precautions during -my subsequent investigations. -</p> -<p>At half past ten no more arrive. The sitting is over. In all, twenty-five males have -been caught, of whom only one was without antennæ. Therefore, of the six on whom I -operated yesterday and who were hale enough to leave my study and go back to the fields, -one alone has returned to the bell-jar. It is a poor result, on which I dare not rely -when it comes to asserting or denying that the antennæ play a guiding part. We must -begin all over again, on a larger scale. -</p> -<p>Next morning I pay a visit to the prisoners of the day before. What I see is not encouraging. -Many are spread out on the floor, almost lifeless. Several of them give hardly a sign -of life when I take them in my fingers. What can I hope from these cripples? Still, -let us try. Perhaps they will <span class="pageNum" id="pb256">[<a href="#pb256">256</a>]</span>recover their vigour when the time comes to dance the lovers’ round. -</p> -<p>The twenty-four new ones undergo amputation of the antennæ. The old, hornless one -is left out of count, as dying or close to it. Lastly, the prison-door is left open -for the remainder of the day. He who will may leave the room, he who can shall join -in the evening festival. In order to put such as go out to the test of searching for -the bride, the cage, which they would be sure to notice on the threshold, is once -more removed. I shift it to a room in the opposite wing, on the ground-floor. The -access to this room is of course left free. -</p> -<p>Of the twenty-four deprived of their antennæ, only sixteen go outside. Eight remain, -powerless to move. They will soon die where they are. Out of the sixteen who have -left, how many are there that return to the cage in the evening? Not one! I sit up -to capture just seven, all newcomers, all sporting feathers. This result would seem -to show that the amputation of the antennæ is a rather serious matter. Let us not -draw conclusions yet: a doubt remains and an important one. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb257">[<a href="#pb257">257</a>]</span></p> -<p>“A nice state I’m in!” said Mouflard, the Bull-pup, when his pitiless breeder had -docked his ears. “How dare I show my face before the other Dogs?” -</p> -<p>Can it be that my Moths entertain Master Mouflard’s apprehensions? Once deprived of -their fine plumes, dare they no longer appear amidst their rivals and a-wooing go? -Is it bashfulness on their part or lack of guidance? Or might it not rather be exhaustion -after a wait that exceeds the duration of an ephemeral flame? Experiment shall tell -us. -</p> -<p>On the fourth evening, I take fourteen Moths, all new ones, and imprison them, as -they arrive, in a room where I intend them to pass the night. Next morning, taking -advantage of their daytime immobility, I remove a little of the fur from the centre -of their corselet. The silky fleece comes off so easily that this slight tonsure does -not inconvenience the insects at all; it deprives them of no organ which may be necessary -to them later, when the time comes to find the cage. It means nothing to the shorn -ones; to me it means the unmistakable sign that the callers have repeated their visit. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb258">[<a href="#pb258">258</a>]</span></p> -<p>This time there are no weaklings incapable of flight. At night, the fourteen shaven -Moths escape into the open. Of course the place of the cage is once more changed. -In two hours, I capture twenty Moths, including two tonsured ones, no more. Of those -who lost their antennæ two days ago, not one puts in an appearance. Their nuptial -time is over for good and all. -</p> -<p>Only two return out of the fourteen marked with a bald patch. Why do the twelve others -hang back, although supplied with what we have assumed to be their guides, their antennary -plumes? Why again that formidable list of defaulters, which we find nearly always -after a night of sequestration? I perceive but one reply: the Great Peacock is quickly -worn out by the ardours of pairing-time. -</p> -<p>With a view to his wedding, the one and only object of his life, the Moth is gifted -with a wonderful prerogative. He is able to discover the object of his desire in spite -of distance, obstacles and darkness. For two or three evenings, he is allowed a few -hours wherein to indulge his search and his amorous exploits. If he cannot avail himself -of <span class="pageNum" id="pb259">[<a href="#pb259">259</a>]</span>them, all is over: the most exact of compasses fails, the brightest of lamps expires. -What is the use of living after that? Stoically we withdraw into a corner and sleep -our last sleep, which is the end of our illusions and of our woes alike. -</p> -<p>The Great Peacock becomes a Moth only in order to perpetuate his species. He knows -nothing of eating. While so many others, jolly companions one and all, flit from flower -to flower, unrolling the spiral of their proboscis and dipping it into the honeyed -cups, he, the incomparable faster, wholly freed from the bondage of the belly, has -no thought of refreshment. His mouth-parts are mere rudiments, vain simulacra, not -real organs capable of performing their functions. Not a sup enters his stomach: a -glorious privilege, save that it involves a brief existence. The lamp needs its drop -of oil, if it is not to be extinguished. The Great Peacock renounces that drop, but -at the same time he renounces long life. Two or three evenings, just time enough to -allow the couple to meet, and that is all: the big Moth has lived. -</p> -<p>Then what is the meaning of the staying away of those who have lost their antennæ? -<span class="pageNum" id="pb260">[<a href="#pb260">260</a>]</span>Does it show that the absence of these organs has made them incapable of finding the -wire bell in which the prisoner awaits them? Not at all. Like the shorn ones, whose -operation has left them uninjured, they prove only that their time is up. Whether -maimed or intact, they are unfit for duty because of their age; and their non-return -is valueless as evidence. For lack of the time necessary for experimenting, the part -played by the antennæ escapes us. Doubtful it was and doubtful it remains. -</p> -<p>My caged prisoner lives for eight days. Every evening she draws for my benefit a swarm -of visitors, in varying numbers, now to one part of the house, now to another, as -I please. I catch them, as they come, with the net and transfer them, the moment they -are captured, to a closed room, in which they spend the night. Next morning, I mark -them with a tonsure on the thorax. -</p> -<p>The aggregate of the visitors during those eight evenings amounts to a hundred and -fifty, an astounding number when I consider how hard I had to seek during the following -two years to collect the materials necessary for continuing these observations. Though -<span class="pageNum" id="pb261">[<a href="#pb261">261</a>]</span>not impossible to find in my near neighbourhood, the cocoons of the Great Peacock -are at least very rare, for old almond-trees, on which the caterpillars live, are -scarce in these parts. For two winters I visited every one of those decayed trees -at the lower part of the trunk, under the tangle of hard grasses in which they are -clad, and time after time I returned empty-handed. Therefore my hundred and fifty -Moths came from afar, from very far, within a radius of perhaps a mile and a half -or more. How did they know of what was happening in my study? -</p> -<p>The perceptive faculties can receive information from a distance by means of three -agents: light, sound and smell. Is it permissible to speak of vision in this instance? -I will readily admit that sight guides the visitors once they have passed through -the open window. But before that, in the mystery out of doors! It would not be enough -to grant them the fabulous eye of the Lynx, which was supposed to see through walls; -we should have to admit a keenness of sight which could be exercised miles away. It -is useless to discuss anything so outrageous; let us pass on. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb262">[<a href="#pb262">262</a>]</span></p> -<p>Sound is likewise out of the question. The great fat Moth, capable of sending a summons -to such a distance, is mute even to the most acute hearing. It is just possible that -she possesses delicate vibrations, passionate quivers, which might perhaps be perceptible -with the aid of an extremely sensitive microphone; but remember that the visitors -have to be informed at considerable distances, thousands of yards away. Under these -conditions, we cannot waste time thinking of acoustics. That would be to set silence -the task of waking the surrounding air. -</p> -<p>There remains the sense of smell. In the domain of our senses, scent, better than -anything else, would more or less explain the onrush of the Moths, even though they -do not find the bait that allures them until after a certain amount of hesitation. -Are there, in point of fact, effluvia similar to what we call odour, effluvia of extreme -subtlety, absolutely imperceptible to ourselves and yet capable of impressing a sense -of smell better-endowed than ours? There is a very simple experiment to be made. It -is a question of masking those effluvia, of stifling them under a powerful and persistent -odour, which masters the olfactory <span class="pageNum" id="pb263">[<a href="#pb263">263</a>]</span>sense entirely. The too-strong scent will neutralize the very faint one. -</p> -<p>I begin by sprinkling naphthaline in the room where the males will be received this -evening. Also, in the bell-jar, beside the female, I lay a big capsule full of the -same stuff. When the visiting-hour comes, I have only to stand in the doorway of the -room to get a distinct smell of gas-works. My artifice fails. The Moths arrive as -usual, they enter the room, pass through its tarry atmosphere and make for the cage -with as much certainty of direction as though in unscented surroundings. -</p> -<p>My confidence in the olfactory explanation is shaken. Besides, I am now unable to -go on. Worn out by her sterile wait, my prisoner dies on the ninth day, after laying -her unfertilized eggs on the wirework of the cage. In the absence of a subject of -experiment, there is no more to be done until next year. -</p> -<p>This time I shall take my precautions, I shall lay in a stock so as to be able to -repeat as often as I wish the experiments which I have already tried and those which -I am contemplating. To work, then; and that without delay. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb264">[<a href="#pb264">264</a>]</span></p> -<p>In the summer, I proclaim myself a buyer of caterpillars at a sou apiece. The offer -appeals to some urchins in the neighbourhood, my usual purveyors. On Thursdays, emancipated -from the horrors of parsing,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2131src" href="#xd31e2131">1</a> they scour the fields, find the fat caterpillar from time to time and bring him to -me clinging to the end of a stick. They dare not touch him, poor mites; they are staggered -at my audacity when I take him in my fingers as they might take the familiar Silk-worm. -</p> -<p>Reared on almond-tree branches, my menagerie in a few days supplies me with magnificent -cocoons. In the winter, assiduous searches at the foot of the fostering tree complete -my collection. Friends interested in my enquiries come to my assistance. In short, -by dint of trouble, much running about, commercial bargains and not a few scratches -from brambles, I am the possessor of an assortment of cocoons, of which twelve, bulkier -and heavier than the others, tell me that they belong to females. -</p> -<p>A disappointment awaits me, for May arrives, a fickle month which brings to naught -<span class="pageNum" id="pb265">[<a href="#pb265">265</a>]</span>my preparations, the cause of so much anxiety. We have winter back again. The mistral -howls, tears the budding leaves from the plane-trees and strews the ground with them. -It is as cold as in December. We have to light the fires again at night and resume -the thick clothes which we were beginning to leave off. -</p> -<p>My Moths are sorely tried. They hatch late and are torpid. Around my wire cages, in -which the females wait, one to-day, another to-morrow, according to the order of their -birth, few males or none come from the outside. And yet there are some close at hand, -for the plumed gallants resulting from my harvest were placed out in the garden as -soon as they were hatched and recognized. Whether near neighbours or strangers from -afar, very few arrive; and these are only half-hearted. They enter for a moment, then -disappear and do not return. The lovers have grown cold. -</p> -<p>It is also possible that the low temperature is unfavourable to the tell-tale effluvia, -which might well be enhanced by the warmth and decreased by the cold, as happens with -scents. My year is lost. Oh, what laborious work is <span class="pageNum" id="pb266">[<a href="#pb266">266</a>]</span>this experimenting at the mercy of the sudden changes and deceptions of a short season! -</p> -<p>I begin all over again, for the third time. I rear caterpillars, I scour the country -in search of cocoons. When May returns, I am suitably provided. The weather is fine -and responds to my hopes. I once more see the incursions which had struck me so powerfully -at the beginning, at the time of the historic invasion which first led to my researches. -</p> -<p>Nightly the visitors turn up, in squads of twelve, twenty or more. The female, a lusty, -big-bellied matron, clings firmly to the trellis-work of the cage. She makes no movement, -gives not so much as a flutter of the wings, seems indifferent to what is going on. -Nor is there any odour, so far as the most sensitive nostrils in the household can -judge, nor any rustle perceptible to the most delicate hearing among my family, all -of whom are called in to bear evidence. In motionless contemplation she waits. -</p> -<p>The others, in twos or threes or more, flop down upon the dome of the cage, run about -it briskly in every direction, lash it with the tips of their wings in continual movement. -There are no affrays between rivals. With <span class="pageNum" id="pb267">[<a href="#pb267">267</a>]</span>not a sign of jealousy in regard to the other suitors, each does his utmost to enter -the enclosure. Tiring of their vain attempts, they fly away and join the whirling -throng of dancers. Some, giving up all hope, escape through the open window; fresh -arrivals take their places; and, on the top of the cage, until ten o’clock in the -evening, attempts to approach are incessantly renewed, soon to be abandoned and as -soon resumed. -</p> -<p>Every evening the cage is moved to a different place. I put it on the north side and -the south, on the ground-floor and the first floor, in the right wing and fifty yards -away in the left, in the open air or hidden in a distant room. All these sudden displacements, -contrived if possible to put the seekers off the scent, do not trouble the Moths in -the least. I waste my time and ingenuity in trying to deceive them. -</p> -<p>Recollection of places plays no part here. Yesterday, for instance, the female was -installed in a certain room. The feathered males came fluttering thither for a couple -of hours; several even spent the night there. Next day, at sunset, when I move the -cage, all are out of doors. Ephemeral though they be, <span class="pageNum" id="pb268">[<a href="#pb268">268</a>]</span>the newest comers are ready to repeat their nocturnal expeditions a second time and -a third. Where will they go first, these veterans of a day? -</p> -<p>They know all about the meeting-place of yesterday. One is inclined to think that -they will go back to it, guided by memory, and that, finding nothing left, they will -proceed elsewhither to continue their investigations. But no: contrary to my expectations, -they do nothing of the sort. Not one reappears in the place which was so thickly crowded -last night; not one pays even a short visit. The room is recognized as deserted, without -the preliminary enquiry which recollection would seem to demand. A more positive guide -than memory summons them elsewhere. -</p> -<p>Until now the female has been left exposed, under the meshes of a wire gauze. The -visitors, whose eyes are used to piercing the blackest gloom, can see her by the vague -light of what to us is darkness. What will happen if I imprison her under an opaque -cover? According to its nature, will not this cover either set free or arrest the -tell-tale effluvia? -</p> -<p>Physical science is to-day preparing to give us wireless telegraphy, by means of the -<span class="pageNum" id="pb269">[<a href="#pb269">269</a>]</span>Hertzian waves. Can the Great Peacock have anticipated our efforts in this direction? -In order to set the surrounding air in motion and to inform pretenders miles away, -can the newly-hatched bride have at her disposal electric or magnetic waves, which -one sort of screen would arrest and another let through? In a word, does she, in her -own manner, employ a kind of wireless telegraphy? I see nothing impossible in this: -insects are accustomed to invent things quite as wonderful. -</p> -<p>I therefore lodge the female in boxes of various characters. Some are made of tin, -some of cardboard, some of wood. All are hermetically closed, are even sealed with -stout putty. I also use a glass bell-jar standing on the insulating support of a pane -of glass. -</p> -<p>Well, under these conditions of strict closing, never a male arrives, not one, however -favourable the mildness and quiet of the evening. No matter its nature, whether of -metal or glass, of wood or cardboard, the closed receptacle forms an insuperable obstacle -to the effluvia that betray the captive’s whereabouts. -</p> -<p>A layer of cotton two fingers thick gives the same result. I place the female in a -large jar, tying a sheet of wadding over the mouth by <span class="pageNum" id="pb270">[<a href="#pb270">270</a>]</span>way of a lid. This is enough to keep the neighbourhood in ignorance of the secrets -of my laboratory. No male puts in an appearance. -</p> -<p>On the other hand, make use of ill-closed, cracked boxes, or even hide them in a drawer, -in a cupboard; and, notwithstanding this added mystery, the Moths will arrive in numbers -as great as when they come thronging to the trellised cage standing in full view on -a table. I have retained a vivid recollection of an evening when the recluse was waiting -in a hat-box at the bottom of a closed wall-cupboard. The Moths arrived, went to the -door, struck it with their wings, knocked at it to express their wish to enter. Passing -wayfarers, coming no one knows whence across the fields, they well knew what was inside -there, behind those boards. -</p> -<p>We must therefore reject the idea of any means of information similar to that of wireless -telegraphy, for the first screen set up, whether a good conductor or a bad, stops -the female’s signals completely. To give these a free passage and carry them to a -distance, one condition is indispensable: the receptacle in which the female is contained -must be imperfectly <span class="pageNum" id="pb271">[<a href="#pb271">271</a>]</span>closed, so as to establish a communication between the inner and the outer air. This -brings us back to the probability of an odour, though that was contradicted by my -experiment with naphthaline. -</p> -<p>My stock of cocoons is exhausted and the problem is still obscure. Shall I try again -another year, the fourth? I abandon the thought for the fallowing reasons: Moths that -mate at night are difficult to observe if I want to watch their intimate actions. -The gallant certainly needs no illuminant to attain his ends; but my feeble human -powers of vision cannot dispense with one at night. I must have at least a candle, -which is often extinguished by the whirling swarm. A lantern saves us from these sudden -eclipses; but its dim light, streaked with broad shadows, does not suit a conscientious -observer like myself, who wants to see and to see clearly. -</p> -<p>Nor is this all. The light of a lamp diverts the Moths from their object, distracts -them from their business and, if persistent, gravely compromises the success of the -evening. The visitors no sooner enter the room than they make a wild rush for the -flame, singe their fluff in it and thenceforth, frightened by the <span class="pageNum" id="pb272">[<a href="#pb272">272</a>]</span>scorching received, cease to be trustworthy witnesses. When they are not burnt, when -they are kept at a distance by a glass chimney, they perch as close as they can to -the light and there stay, hypnotized. -</p> -<p>One evening, the female was in the dining-room, on a table facing the open window. -A lighted paraffin-lamp, with a large white-enamel shade, was hanging from the ceiling. -Two of the arrivals alighted on the dome of the cage and fussed around the prisoner; -seven others, after greeting her as they passed, made for the lamp, circled about -it a little and then, fascinated by the radiant glory of the opal cone, perched on -it, motionless, under the shade. Already the children’s hands were raised to seize -them. -</p> -<p>“Don’t,” I said. “Leave them alone. Let us be hospitable and not disturb these pilgrims -to the tabernacle of light.” -</p> -<p>All that evening, not one of the seven budged. Next morning, they were still there. -The intoxication of light had made them forget the intoxication of love. -</p> -<p>With creatures so madly enamoured of the radiant flame, precise and prolonged experiment -becomes unfeasible the moment the observer <span class="pageNum" id="pb273">[<a href="#pb273">273</a>]</span>requires an artificial illuminant. I give up the Great Peacock and his nocturnal nuptials. -I want a Moth with different habits, equally skilled in keeping conjugal appointments, -but performing in the day-time. -</p> -<p>Before continuing with a subject that fulfils these conditions, let us drop chronological -order for a moment and say a few words about a late-comer who arrived after I had -completed my enquiries, I mean the Lesser Peacock (<i lang="la">Attacus pavonia minor</i>, <span class="sc">Lin.</span>). Somebody brought me, I don’t know where from, a magnificent cocoon loosely wrapped -in an ample white-silk envelope. Out of this covering, with its thick, irregular folds, -it was easy to extract a case similar in shape to the Great Peacock’s, but a good -deal smaller. The fore-end, worked into the fashion of an eel-trap by means of free -and converging fibres, which prevent access to the dwelling while permitting egress -without a breach of the walls, indicated a kinswoman of the big nocturnal Moth; the -silk bore the spinner’s mark. -</p> -<p>And, in point of fact, towards the end of March, on the morning of Palm Sunday, the -cocoon with the eel-trap formation provides me with a female of the Lesser Peacock, -<span class="pageNum" id="pb274">[<a href="#pb274">274</a>]</span>whom I at once seclude under a wire-gauze bell in my study. I open the window to allow -the event to be made known all over the district; I want the visitors, if any come, -to find free entrance. The captive grips the wires and does not move for a week. -</p> -<p>A gorgeous creature is my prisoner, in her brown velvet streaked with wavy lines. -She has white fur around her neck; a speck of carmine at the tip of the upper wings; -and four large, eye-shaped spots, in which black, white, red and yellow-ochre are -grouped in concentric crescents. The dress is very like that of the Great Peacock, -but less dark in colouring. I have seen this Moth, so remarkable for size and costume, -three or four times in my life. It was only the other day that I first saw the cocoon. -The male I have never seen. I only know that, according to the books, he is half the -size of the female and of a brighter and more florid colour, with orange-yellow on -the lower wings. -</p> -<p>Will he come, the unknown spark, the plume-wearer on whom I have never set eyes, so -rare does he appear to be in my part of the country? In his distant hedges will he -receive news of the bride that awaits him on my study <span class="pageNum" id="pb275">[<a href="#pb275">275</a>]</span>table? I venture to feel sure of it; and I am right. Here he comes, even sooner than -I expected. -</p> -<p>On the stroke of noon, as we were sitting down to table, little Paul who is late owing -to his eager interest in what is likely to happen, suddenly runs up to us, his cheeks -aglow. In his fingers flutters a pretty Moth, a Moth caught that moment hovering in -front of my study. Paul shows me his prize; his eyes ask an unspoken question. -</p> -<p>“Hullo!” I say. “This is the very pilgrim we were expecting. Let’s fold up our napkins -and go and see what’s happening. We can dine later.” -</p> -<p>Dinner is forgotten in the presence of the wonders that are taking place. With inconceivable -punctuality, the plume-wearers hasten to answer the captive’s magic call. They arrive -one by one, with a tortuous flight. All of them come from the north. This detail has -its significance. As a matter of fact, during the past week we have experienced a -fierce return of winter. The north wind has been blowing a gale, killing the imprudent -almond-blossoms. It was one of those ferocious storms which, as a rule, usher in the -<span class="pageNum" id="pb276">[<a href="#pb276">276</a>]</span>spring in our part of the world. To-day the temperature has suddenly grown milder, -but the wind is still blowing from the north. -</p> -<p>Now at this first visit all the Moths hurrying to the prisoner enter the enclosure -from the north; they follow the movement of the air; not one beats against it. If -their compass were a sense of smell similar to our own, if they were guided by odoriferous -particles dissolved in the air, they ought to arrive from the opposite direction. -If they came from the south, we might believe them to be informed by effluvia carried -by the wind; coming as they do from the north, through the mistral, that mighty sweeper -of the atmosphere, how can we suppose them to have perceived, at a great distance, -what we call a smell? This reflux of scented atoms in a direction contrary to the -aerial current seems to me inadmissible. -</p> -<p>For a couple of hours, in radiant sunshine, the visitors come and go outside the front -of the study. Most of them search for a long while, exploring the wall, flitting along -the ground. To see their hesitation, one would think that they were at a loss to discover -the exact place of the bait that attracts <span class="pageNum" id="pb277">[<a href="#pb277">277</a>]</span>them. Though they have come from very far without mistake, they seem uncertain of -their bearings once they are on the spot. Nevertheless, sooner or later they enter -the room and pay their respects to the captive, without much importunity. At two o’clock -all is over. Ten Moths have been here. -</p> -<p>All through the week, each time at noon-day, when the light is at its brightest, Moths -arrive, but in decreasing numbers. The total is nearly forty. I see no reason to repeat -experiments which could add nothing to what I already know; and I confine myself to -stating two facts. In the first place, the Lesser Peacock is a day insect, that is -to say, he celebrates his wedding in the brilliant light of the middle of the day. -He needs radiant sunshine. The Great Peacock, on the contrary, whom he so closely -resembles in his adult form and in the work which he does as a caterpillar, requires -the dusk of the early hours of the night. Let him who can explain this strange contrast -of habits. -</p> -<p>In the second place, a powerful air-current, sweeping the other way any particles -capable of instructing the sense of smell, does not prevent the Moths’ arriving from -a direction <span class="pageNum" id="pb278">[<a href="#pb278">278</a>]</span>opposite to that of the odoriferous flux, as our physics imagine it. -</p> -<p>If I am to go on with my observations, I want a day Moth; not the Lesser Peacock, -who made his appearance too late, at a time when I had nothing to ask him, but another, -no matter whom, provided that he be quick at discovering nuptial feasts. Shall I find -this Moth? -<span class="pageNum" id="pb279">[<a href="#pb279">279</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2131"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2131src">1</a></span> Thursday is the weekly holiday in French schools.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2131src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch12" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e297">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XII</h2> -<h2 class="main">THE BANDED MONK</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Yes, I shall find him; indeed I have him already. A little chap of seven, with a wideawake -face that doesn’t get washed every day, bare feet and a pair of tattered breeches -held up by a bit of string, a boy who comes regularly to supply the house with turnips -and tomatoes, arrives one morning carrying his basket of vegetables. After the few -sous due to his mother for the greens have been counted one by one into his hand, -he produces from his pocket something which he found the day before, beside a hedge, -while picking grass for the Rabbits: -</p> -<p>“And what about this?” he asks, holding the thing out to me. “What about this? Will -you have it?” -</p> -<p>“Yes, certainly I’ll have it. Try and find me some more, as many as you can, and I’ll -promise you plenty of rides on the roundabout on Sunday. Meanwhile, my lad, here’s -a penny for you. Don’t make a mistake when you give in your accounts; put it somewhere -<span class="pageNum" id="pb280">[<a href="#pb280">280</a>]</span>where you won’t mix it up with the turnip-money.” -</p> -<p>Dazzled with delight at the sight of so much wealth, my little ragamuffin promises -to search with a will, already seeing visions of a fortune to be his. -</p> -<p>When he has gone, I examine the thing. It is worth while. It is a handsome cocoon, -blunt-shaped, not at all unlike the product of our Silk-worm nurseries, of a firm -consistency and a tawny colour. The cursory information which I have picked up from -books of reference makes me almost certain that it is the Bombyx of the Oak, the Oak -Eggar. If this is so, what luck! I shall be able to continue my observations and perhaps -complete what the Great Peacock began to show me. -</p> -<p>The Oak Eggar is, in fact, a classic; there is not an entomological treatise but speaks -of his exploits in the wedding-season. They tell us how a mother hatches in captivity, -inside a room and even hidden in a box. She is far away from the country, amid the -tumult of a big town. The event is nevertheless divulged to those whom it concerns -in the woods and the meadows. Guided by some inconceivable compass, the males arrive, -hastening from the <span class="pageNum" id="pb281">[<a href="#pb281">281</a>]</span>distant fields; they go to the box, tap at it, fly round and round it. -</p> -<p>I had read of these marvels; but seeing, seeing with one’s own eyes, and at the same -time experimenting a little is quite another matter. What does my penny purchase hold -in store for me? Will the famous Bombyx emerge from it? -</p> -<p>Let us call her by her other name: the Banded Monk. This unusual name of Monk is suggested -by the male’s dress: a monk’s frock of a modest rusty brown. But in this case the -stuff is a delicious velvet, with a pale transversal band and a little white, eye-shaped -dot on the front wings. -</p> -<p>The Banded Monk is not, in my region, a common Moth whom we are likely to catch if -the fancy takes us to go out with a net at the proper season. I have never seen it -about the village, especially not in my lonely enclosure, during all the twenty years -that I have spent here. I am not a fervent hunter, I admit; the collector’s dead insect -interests me very little; I want it alive, in the full exercise of its faculties. -But I make up for the absence of the collector’s zeal by an attentive eye for all -that enlivens the fields. A Moth so <span class="pageNum" id="pb282">[<a href="#pb282">282</a>]</span>remarkable in size and costume would certainly not have escaped me had I met him. -</p> -<p>The little seeker whom I had caught so nicely with a promise of the roundabout never -made a second find. For three years I requisitioned friends and neighbours, especially -the youngsters, those sharp-eyed scrapers of the brushwood; I myself scraped a great -deal under masses of dead leaves, inspected stone-heaps, examined hollow tree-trunks. -My trouble was in vain: the precious cocoon was nowhere to be found. Suffice it to -say that the Banded Monk is very scarce in my neighbourhood. The importance of this -detail will be seen when the time comes. -</p> -<p>As I suspected, my solitary cocoon did belong to the famous Moth. On the 20th of August -there emerges a female, corpulent and big-bellied, attired like the male, but in a -lighter frock, more in the nankeen style. I establish her in a wire-gauze bell-jar -in the middle of my study, on the big laboratory-table, littered with books, pots, -trays, boxes, test-tubes and other engines of science. I have described the setting -before: it is the same as in the case of the Great Peacock. The room is lighted by -two windows looking out <span class="pageNum" id="pb283">[<a href="#pb283">283</a>]</span>on the garden. One is closed, the other is kept open day and night. The Moth is placed -between the two, in the shadow, some four or five yards away. -</p> -<p>The rest of the day and the following day pass without anything worth mentioning. -Hanging by her claws to the front of the trellis-work, on the side nearest the light, -the prisoner is motionless, inert. There is no waving of the wings, no quivering of -the antennæ. Even so did the female Great Peacock behave. -</p> -<p>The mother Bombyx matures; her tender flesh hardens. By some process of which our -science has not the remotest idea, she elaborates an irresistible bait which will -bring callers flocking to her from the four corners of the heavens. What takes place -in that fat body, what transformations are performed that shall presently revolutionize -everything around? Were they known to us, the Moth’s nostrums would add a cubit to -our stature. -</p> -<p>On the third day the bride is ready. The festivities burst into full swing. I was -in the garden, already despairing of success, so long were things delayed, when, at -about three o’clock in the afternoon, in very hot weather <span class="pageNum" id="pb284">[<a href="#pb284">284</a>]</span>and brilliant sunshine, I saw a host of Moths gyrating in the embrasure of the open -window. -</p> -<p>It is the lovers coming to call upon their sweetheart. Some are just leaving the room, -others going in, others again are perched upon the wall, resting as though jaded after -a long journey. I see some approaching in the distance, over the walls, over the curtain -of cypress-trees. They are hurrying up from all directions, but becoming more and -more rare. I missed the beginning of the reception; and the guests are nearly all -here. -</p> -<p>Let us go upstairs. This time, in broad daylight, without losing a single detail, -I once more witness the bewildering spectacle into which the great night Moth initiated -me. My study is filled with a swarm of males, whom I estimate at a glance to number -about sixty, as far as it is possible to make a count in this seething mass. After -circling a few times round the cage, several go to the open window, but return again -forthwith and resume their evolutions. The most eager perch on the cage, hustle and -trample on one another, fighting for the good places. Inside the barrier, the captive -waits impassively, with her <span class="pageNum" id="pb285">[<a href="#pb285">285</a>]</span>great paunch hanging against the wires. She gives not a sign of emotion in the presence -of the turbulent throng. -</p> -<p>Going in or going out, fussing round the cage or flitting through the room, for more -than three hours they keep up their frenzied saraband. But the sun is sinking, the -temperature becomes a little cooler. Chilled likewise is the ardour of the Moths. -Many go out and do not come in again. Others take up their positions in readiness -for the morrow; they settle on the transoms of the closed window, as the Great Peacocks -did. The celebration is over for to-day. It will certainly be renewed to-morrow, for -it is still without result, because of the wires. -</p> -<p>But alas, to my great dismay, it is not renewed; and this through my own fault! Late -in the day, some one brings me a Praying Mantis, worthy of attention because of her -exceptionally small size. Preoccupied with the events of the afternoon, without thinking -what I am doing, I hastily place the carnivorous insect in the cage that holds my -Bombyx. Not for a moment do I dream that this co-habitation can turn out ill. The -Mantis is such a little, slender thing; the other is so <span class="pageNum" id="pb286">[<a href="#pb286">286</a>]</span>obese! And thus I entertained no apprehensions. -</p> -<p>Ah, little did I know the bloodthirsty fury of which the grapnelled insect is capable! -Next morning, to my bitter astonishment, I find the tiny Mantis devouring the huge -Moth. The head and the front part of the breast have already disappeared. Horrible -creature! What a disappointment I owe to you! Farewell to my researches, which I had -cherished in my imagination all night long; not for three years shall I be able to -resume them, for lack of a subject. -</p> -<p>Bad luck must not, however, make us forget the little that we have learnt. At one -sitting, some sixty males came. Considering the rarity of the Monk and remembering -the years of fruitless searches conducted by my assistants and myself, we stand astounded -at this number. With a female for a bait, the undiscoverable has suddenly become a -multitude. -</p> -<p>Now where did they come from? From every quarter and from very far, beyond a doubt. -During my years of exploration of my neighbourhood, I have got to know every <span class="pageNum" id="pb287">[<a href="#pb287">287</a>]</span>bush in it and every heap of stones; and I am in a position to declare that there -are no Oak Eggars there. To make the swarm that filled my study, the whole of the -surrounding district must have contributed, from this side and from that, within a -radius which I dare not determine. -</p> -<p>Three years pass; and fortune persistently entreated at last grants me two Monk-cocoons. -Towards the middle of August, both of them, within a few days of each other, give -me a female. This is a piece of luck which will allow me to vary and renew my tests. -</p> -<p>I quickly repeat the experiments which have already procured me a most positive reply -from the Great Peacock. The pilgrim of the day is no less clever than the pilgrim -of the night. He baffles all my tricks. He hastens infallibly to the prisoner, in -her wire-gauze cage, in whatever part of the house the apparatus be installed; he -is able to discover her hidden in a cupboard; he guesses her secret presence in a -box of any kind, provided that it be not tightly closed. He ceases to come, for lack -of information, when the casket is hermetically sealed. Thus far we <span class="pageNum" id="pb288">[<a href="#pb288">288</a>]</span>see merely a repetition of the feats of the Great Peacock. -</p> -<p>A well-closed box, the air contained in which does not communicate with the outer -atmosphere, leaves the Monk in complete ignorance of the prisoner’s whereabouts. Not -one arrives, even when the box is exposed for every eye to see in the window. This -brings back, more urgently than ever, the idea of odoriferous effluvia, intransmissible -through a wall of metal, cardboard, wood or glass, no matter which. -</p> -<p>When put to the test, the great night Moth was not baffled by the naphthaline, whose -powerful smell ought, to my thinking, to mask ultrasubtle emanations, imperceptible -to any human nostrils. I repeat the experiment with the Monk. This time I lavish all -the resources in the way of scents and stenches that my store of drugs permits. -</p> -<p>I place the saucers, partly inside the wire-gauze cage, the female’s prison, and partly -all round it, in a continuous circle. Some contain naphthaline, others oil of lavender, -others paraffin, others, lastly, alkaline sulphurs smelling of rotten eggs. Short -of asphyxiating the prisoner, I can do no more. <span class="pageNum" id="pb289">[<a href="#pb289">289</a>]</span>These arrangements are made in the morning, so that the room may be thoroughly saturated -when the trysting-hour arrives. -</p> -<p>In the afternoon, the study has become an odious laboratory in which the penetrating -aroma of lavender-oil and the foul stench of sulphuretted hydrogen predominate. Remember -that I smoke in this room and plentifully at that. Will the concentrated odours of -a gas-works, a smoker’s divan, a scent-shop, an oil-well and a chemical factory succeed -in putting off the Monk? -</p> -<p>Not at all. A little before three, the Moths arrive, as numerous as ever. They go -to the cage, which I have taken pains to cover with a thick kitchen-cloth, so as to -increase the difficulty. Though they see nothing after they have entered, though they -are steeped in a foreign atmosphere in which any subtle fragrance should have been -annihilated, they fly towards the prisoner and try to get at her by slipping under -the folds of the cloth. My artifices are fruitless. -</p> -<p>After this reverse, so definite in its results, which repeats what my naphthaline -experiment with the Great Peacock taught me, I ought, logically speaking, to give -up the <span class="pageNum" id="pb290">[<a href="#pb290">290</a>]</span>theory that odorous effluvia serve as a guide to the Moths invited to the nuptial -feast. That I did not do so was due to a casual observation. The unexpected, the fortuitous, -often provides us with one of those surprises which show us the road to the truth, -hitherto sought in vain. -</p> -<p>One afternoon, trying to discover whether sight plays any part in the search, once -that the Moths have entered the room, I place the female in a glass bell-jar and give -her a little oak-branch, with withered leaves, as a perch. The apparatus is put on -a table, opposite the open window. On entering, the Moths cannot fail to see the prisoner, -standing as she does where they are bound to pass. The pan with its layer of sand, -in which the female spent the previous night and the morning under a wire-gauze cover, -is in my way. I put it, without premeditation, on the floor at the other end of the -room, in a corner which is only dimly lighted. It is seven yards from the window. -</p> -<p>The result of these preparations upsets all my ideas. Of the Moths arriving, none -stops at the glass bell, where the female is plainly visible, in the full light. They -pass by with <span class="pageNum" id="pb291">[<a href="#pb291">291</a>]</span>utter indifference. Not a glance in her direction, not an enquiry. They all fly right -to the far end of the room, to the dusky corner where I placed the tray and the cage. -They alight on the trellised top and explore it at length, flapping their wings and -hustling one another a little. All the afternoon, until sunset, they dance around -the deserted dome the same saraband to which the actual presence of the female would -give rise. At last they fly away, but not all of them. There are persistent ones who -refuse to go, rooted to the spot by some magic attraction. -</p> -<p>A strange result indeed: my Moths hasten to where there is nothing, take their stand -there and will not be dissuaded by the repeated warnings of their eyes; they pass -without stopping for a moment by the bell-glass in which the female cannot fail to -be perceived by one or other of those coming and going. Befooled by a lure, they pay -no attention to the real thing. -</p> -<p>What is it that deceives them? The whole of the night before and all this morning, -the female has sojourned under the wire-gauze cover, either hanging to the trellis-work, -or resting on the sand in the pan. Whatever <span class="pageNum" id="pb292">[<a href="#pb292">292</a>]</span>she touched, above all with her fat belly apparently, has become impregnated, as the -result of long contact, with certain emanations. There you have her bait, her love-philtre; -there you have what revolutionizes the world of Monks. The sand retains it for a time -and spreads its effluvia around. -</p> -<p>It is smell therefore that guides the Moths, that gives them information at a distance. -Dominated by the sense of smell, they take no notice of what their eyes tell them; -they pass by the glass prison in which their lady-love is now interned; they go to -the wires, to the sand, on which the magic cruets have shed their contents; they race -to the wilderness where naught remains of the witch but the scented evidence of her -sojourn. -</p> -<p>The irresistible philtre takes a certain time to elaborate. I picture it as an exhalation -which is gradually given off and saturates everything that touches the fat, motionless -creature. When the glass bell stands directly on the table or, better still, on a -square of glass, the communication between the interior and the outer air is insufficient; -and the males, perceiving nothing by the sense of smell, keep away, however long the -experiment be continued. <span class="pageNum" id="pb293">[<a href="#pb293">293</a>]</span>At the actual moment, I cannot substantiate this non-transmission through a screen, -for, even if I establish ample communication, if I separate the bell from its support -by means of three wedges, the Moths do not come at first, however many there may be -in the room. But wait for half an hour, more or less: the alembic of feminine flavours -begins its distilling and the rush of visitors takes place as usual. -</p> -<p>Now that I possess these data, this unexpected light on the subject, I am at liberty -to vary my experiments, all of which lead to the same conclusion. In the morning, -I establish the female under a wire-gauze cover. Her perch is a little oak-twig similar -to the last. Here, motionless, as though dead, she remains for long hours, buried -in the tuft of leaves that is to be impregnated with her emanations. When visiting-time -approaches, I withdraw the twig, perfectly saturated, and lay it on a chair, near -the open window. On the other hand, I leave the female under her cover, well in view -on the table, in the middle of the room. -</p> -<p>The Moths arrive, first one, then two and three, soon five and six. They come in, -go <span class="pageNum" id="pb294">[<a href="#pb294">294</a>]</span>out, come in again, fly up and down, go to and fro, keeping all the time to the neighbourhood -of the chair with its oak-branch. Not one makes for the big table, a few paces farther -into the room, where the female is waiting for them under the trellised dome. They -are hesitating, that is clear; they are seeking. -</p> -<p>At last they find. And what do they find? The very twig which in the morning had served -the pot-bellied matron as a bed. With wings swiftly fluttering, they alight upon the -branch; they explore it above and below, probe it, lift it and move it, until at last -the little bit of foliage drops on the floor. The probing between the leaves continues -none the less. Under the buffeting of the wings and the clawing of the feet, the stick -is now running along the ground, like a scrap of paper pawed by a kitten. -</p> -<p>While the twig is moving away with its band of explorers, two new arrivals come upon -the scene. On their way, they have to pass the chair, which for a brief spell bore -the leafy stick. They stop at it and eagerly investigate the very spot which but now -was covered by the branch. And yet, in their case as in that of the others, the real -object of their <span class="pageNum" id="pb295">[<a href="#pb295">295</a>]</span>desires is close by them, under a wire gauze which I have omitted to veil. No one -notices it. On the floor, the Monks continue to hustle the mattress on which the female -lay in the morning; on the chair, they still fumble at the spot where this bedding -was first placed. The sun goes down; the time comes to depart. Besides, the effluvia -of passion are growing fainter, are dispersing. The visitors go away without more -ado. Good-bye till to-morrow. -</p> -<p>The following tests tell me that any material, no matter what, can take the place -of the leafy branch, that chance inspiration of mine. Some time in advance, I place -the female on a couch of cloth or flannel, of wadding or paper. I even subject her -to the hardship of a camp-bed of wood, glass, marble or metal. All these objects, -after a contact of sufficient length, have the same powerful attraction for the males -as the mother Monk herself. They retain this property to a varying extent, according -to their nature. The best are wadding, flannel, dust, sand, in short, porous objects. -Metals, marble and glass, on the contrary, soon lose their efficacy. Lastly, anything -on which the female has <span class="pageNum" id="pb296">[<a href="#pb296">296</a>]</span>rested communicates its virtue to other places by simple contact, as witness the Moths -crowding to the seat of the cane-bottomed chair after the oak-branch had fallen from -it. -</p> -<p>Let us use one of the best beds, flannel, for instance, and we shall see a curious -thing. I place at the bottom of a long test-tube or of a narrow-necked bottle, just -wide enough to allow of the Moth’s passage, a piece of flannel on which the mother -has been lying all the morning. The callers go into the vessels, flounder about, do -not know how to get out again. I have invented a mouse-trap for them by means of which -I could do terrific execution. Let us release the poor things, remove the piece of -stuff and put it away in an hermetically closed box. The infatuated Moths go back -to the test-tube, headlong reenter the trap. They are attracted by the effluvia which -the saturated flannel has imparted to the glass. -</p> -<p>I am fully convinced. To summon the Moths of the district to the wedding, to apprise -them at a distance of her presence and to guide them, the bride emits an extremely -subtle scent, imperceptible to our own organs of smell. With the mother Monk held -to <span class="pageNum" id="pb297">[<a href="#pb297">297</a>]</span>their nostrils, those around me perceive not the least odour, not even the youngest, -whose senses are not yet vitiated. -</p> -<p>This quintessence easily impregnates every object on which the female rests for any -length of time; and thenceforth the actual object becomes as potent a centre of attraction -as the mother herself, until the emanations are dispelled. -</p> -<p>Nothing visible betrays the bait. On a piece of paper, a recent resting-place around -which the visitors crowd, there is not an appreciable trace, no moisture of any kind; -the surface is just as clean as before the impregnation. -</p> -<p>The product is slowly elaborated and has to accumulate a little while before manifesting -its full strength. When taken from her couch and placed elsewhere, the female loses -her attractions for the time and becomes an object of indifference; it is the resting-place, -saturated by long contact, that draws the newcomers. But the batteries are recharged -and the deserted one recovers her power. -</p> -<p>The appearance of the warning effluvium is delayed for a longer or shorter period -according to the species. The newly-hatched <span class="pageNum" id="pb298">[<a href="#pb298">298</a>]</span>Moth has to mature for a time and to put her distillery in order. A female Great Peacock, -born in the morning, sometimes has visitors that same evening, but oftener on the -second day, after preparations lasting some forty hours. The female Banded Monk adjourns -her summons longer than that: her banns of marriage are not published until after -two or three days’ waiting. -</p> -<p>Let us return for a moment to the problematical functions of the antennæ. The male -Monk sports a sumptuous pair, similar to those of the Great Peacock, who vies with -him in his matrimonial expeditions. Are we to look upon these hairy feelers as a guiding -compass? I repeat, without laying much stress on the matter, my former amputations. -None of the patients comes back. We must be chary of drawing inferences, however. -The Great Peacock has shown us that the failure to return is due to more serious reasons -than amputation of the horns. -</p> -<p>Moreover, a second Monk, the Clover Bombyx, nearly akin to the first and, like him, -superbly plumed, sets us an exceedingly perplexing problem. He is fairly plentiful -around my place; even in the enclosure I find <span class="pageNum" id="pb299">[<a href="#pb299">299</a>]</span>his cocoon, which might easily be confused with that of the Oak Bombyx. I am deceived -at first by the resemblance. Out of six cocoons, from which I expected to obtain Banded -Monks, six females of the other species hatch at the end of August. Well, around those -six females, born in my house, never a male appears, though there is no doubt that -the tufted ones are present in the neighbourhood. -</p> -<p>If spreading feathered antennæ are really organs for receiving information at a distance, -why are not my richly-horned neighbours informed of what is happening in my study? -Why do their fine plumes leave them indifferent to events that would bring the Banded -Monk hastening up in crowds? Once more, the organ does not determine the aptitude. -This one is gifted and that one is not, despite organic similarity. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb300">[<a href="#pb300">300</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch13" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e307">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XIII</h2> -<h2 class="main">THE SENSE OF SMELL</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">In physics we hear of nothing nowadays but the Röntgen rays, which penetrate dense -bodies and photograph the invisible for us. A fine discovery, but how insignificant -in face of the surprises which the future reserves for us when, better-informed of -the why and wherefore of things, we supplement with art the feebleness of our senses -and succeed in rivalling, be it ever so little, the keenness of perception revealed -by the brute creation. -</p> -<p>How enviable, in many cases, is this animal superiority! It teaches us the poverty -of our attainments; it declares the mediocrity of our sensory apparatus; it gives -us evidence of impressions foreign to our nature; it proclaims realities so far in -excess of our attributes that they astound us. -</p> -<p>A wretched caterpillar, the Pine Processionary, splits his back into meteorological -air-holes which snuff the coming weather and <span class="pageNum" id="pb301">[<a href="#pb301">301</a>]</span>foretell the squall; the bird of prey, with its incomparably long sight, sees from -high in the clouds the Field-mouse squatting on the ground; the blinded Bats guide -their flight without injury to themselves amid Spallanzani’s<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2356src" href="#xd31e2356">1</a> inextricable maze of threads; the Carrier-pigeon, though moved a hundred leagues -from home, infallibly regains his cote across immensities which he has never traversed -unaided; within the limits of her humbler flight, a Bee, the Chalicodoma,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2362src" href="#xd31e2362">2</a> also spans the unknown, accomplishes a long journey and returns to her mass of cells. -</p> -<p>The man who has never seen a Dog hunting for truffles does not know one of the finest -achievements of the sense of smell. Absorbed in its functions, the animal trots along, -with its nose to the wind, at a moderate pace. It stops, questions the ground with -its nostrils, scratches for a few seconds, without undue excitement, and looks up -at its master: -</p> -<p>“Here we are,” it seems to say, “here we <span class="pageNum" id="pb302">[<a href="#pb302">302</a>]</span>are! On my word of honour as a Dog, there’s a truffle here.” -</p> -<p>And it speaks the truth. The master digs at the point indicated. If the trowel goes -astray, the Dog shows the man how to put it right by sniffing at the bottom of the -hole. Do not be afraid of the stones and roots in between: despite the depth and intervening -obstacles, the tuber will come. A Dog’s nose cannot lie. -</p> -<p>“Subtlety of smell,” you say. -</p> -<p>I have no objection, if by that you mean that the animal’s nasal passages are the -organ of perception; but is the thing perceived always a mere smell, in the ordinary -acceptation of the word, an effluvium such as our own senses understand it? I have -some reason to doubt this. Let us set the matter forth. -</p> -<p>I have had the good fortune on several occasions to accompany a Dog who was a great -expert at his trade. Certainly he was nothing to look at, this artist whom I was so -anxious to see at work: just a Dog, placid and deliberate in his ways, ugly, unkempt; -the sort of Dog that you would never admit to your fireside. Talent and poverty often -go hand in hand. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb303">[<a href="#pb303">303</a>]</span></p> -<p>His master, a celebrated <i lang="fr">rabassier</i><a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2386src" href="#xd31e2386">3</a> in the village, convinced that I had no intention of stealing his secrets and one -day setting up in competition, allowed me to join him in his expeditions, a favour -which he did not often grant. The worthy man was quite willing to fall in with my -views, once he saw that I was not an apprentice but merely an enquirer who made drawings<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2395src" href="#xd31e2395">4</a> and wrote down lists of underground vegetable things, instead of marketing my bagful -of treasure-trove, the glory of the Christmas Turkey. -</p> -<p>It was agreed between us that the Dog should act as he pleased and receive a bit of -bread as his reward after each discovery, indiscriminately. Every spot scratched up -by his paws was to be dug and the object indicated extracted without our troubling -about its commercial value. In no case was the master’s experience to intervene and -divert the dog from a spot where practice told him <span class="pageNum" id="pb304">[<a href="#pb304">304</a>]</span>that nothing saleable was to be found, for, in drawing up my botanical lists, I preferred -wretched and unmarketable products to the choicest morsels, though these of course -were welcomed when they appeared. -</p> -<p>Thus conducted, the underground botanizing was very fruitful. With his perspicacious -nose, the Dog made me gather indifferently the large and the small, the fresh and -the putrid, the scented and the unscented, the fragrant and the stinking. I was amazed -at my collection, which comprised the greater part of the hypogean fungi in my neighbourhood. -</p> -<p>What a variety of structure and above all of odour, the primary quality in this question -of scent! There are some that have nothing more noticeable than a vague fungous mustiness, -which is more or less evident in all. Some smell of turnips, of rotten cabbage; some -are fetid enough to fill the collector’s house with their stench. The real truffle -alone possesses the aroma dear to the epicure. -</p> -<p>If smell, as we understand it, is the Dog’s only guide, how does he manage to find -his way through all these incongruous odours? <span class="pageNum" id="pb305">[<a href="#pb305">305</a>]</span>Is he apprised of the contents of the soil by a general emanation, the fungous effluvium -common to the different species? In that case an extremely embarrassing question arises. -</p> -<p>I paid some attention to the ordinary mushrooms, many of which, as yet invisible, -announced their coming as imminent by cracking the surface of the ground. Now I never -saw the Dog stop at any of those points where my eyes divined the cryptogam pushing -back the earth with the thrust of its cap, points where the ordinary fungous smell -was certainly most pronounced. He passed them by scornfully, with not a sniff, with -not a stroke of his paw. And yet the thing was underground; and its reek was similar -to others which he sometimes pointed out to us. -</p> -<p>I came back from the Dog’s school with the conviction that the truffle-detecting nose -has a better guide than smell, in the sense in which our olfactory powers realize -it. It must perceive, in addition, effluvia of a different order, full of mystery -to us, who are not equipped accordingly. Light has its dark rays, which are without -effect upon our retinæ, but not apparently upon all. Why should not <span class="pageNum" id="pb306">[<a href="#pb306">306</a>]</span>the domain of smell have its secret emanations, unknown to our senses but perceptible -to a differently constructed organ of smell? -</p> -<p>If the scent of the Dog leaves us perplexed to this extent, that it is impossible -for us to say exactly or even to suspect what it perceives, it at least tells us plainly -that we should be greatly mistaken to compare everything by human standards. The world -of sensations is far larger than the limits of our sensibility admit. What a number -of facts in the working of the forces of nature escape us for want of organs delicate -enough to perceive them! -</p> -<p>The unknown, that inexhaustible field which the future will cultivate, holds harvests -in store for us beside which our present knowledge is but a pitiful gleaning. Under -the sickle of science sheaves will one day fall whose grain to-day would seem a senseless -paradox. Scientific illusions? Not so, if you please, but undeniable and positive -realities, affirmed by the animal world, which in certain respects has a great advantage -over the world of man. -</p> -<p>In spite of his long professional practice, in spite of the aroma of the tuber which -he <span class="pageNum" id="pb307">[<a href="#pb307">307</a>]</span>is seeking, the <i lang="fr">rabassier</i> cannot guess the presence of the truffle, which ripens in winter underground, at -a depth of eighteen inches or so; he needs the aid of the Dog or the Pig, whose scent -pries into the secrets of the soil. Well, these secrets are known to different insects -even better than to our two helpers. In order to discover the tuber on which their -family of grubs is to be fed, they possess a scent of exceptional perfection. -</p> -<p>Long ago, from truffles dug up spoilt and teeming with vermin and placed in this condition -in a glass jar with a layer of fresh sand, I obtained first a small red Beetle (<i lang="la">Anisotoma cinnamomea</i>, <span class="sc">Panz.</span>) and then various Diptera, including a Sapromyzon, who, with her sluggish flight -and feeble frame, reminds me of a Fly, clad in yellow velvet, known as <i lang="la">Scatophaga scybalaria</i>, that placid frequenter of human excrement in autumn. -</p> -<p>The latter finds her truffle on the surface of the ground, at the foot of a wall or -hedge, man’s usual hasty refuge in the country; but how does the other know at what -point underground lies hers, or rather her grubs’ truffle? To go down and hunt about -in the depths is beyond her power. Her frail <span class="pageNum" id="pb308">[<a href="#pb308">308</a>]</span>limbs, which the moving of a grain of sand would warp; her wings, which, if extended, -would block her way through a gorge; her dress of stiff silk, militating against a -smooth passage: these are all against her. The Sapromyzon is obliged to lay her eggs -on the surface of the soil, but she must do so at the very spot beneath which the -truffle lies, for the tiny grubs would die if they had to roam at random until they -came upon their provender, which is always sparsely distributed. -</p> -<p>The truffle-hunting Fly is therefore informed by her sense of smell of the spots favourable -to her maternal plans; she possesses the scent of the <i lang="fr">rabassier</i> Dog, indeed probably a better one, for she knows things by nature, having never been -taught, whereas her rival has only received an artificial education. -</p> -<p>It would be interesting to follow the Sapromyzon’s manœuvres, but the idea strikes -me as impracticable. The insect is rare, flies away quickly and is soon out of sight. -To observe it closely, to watch it at work would involve a great loss of time and -a degree of assiduity of which I do not feel capable. Another discoverer of underground -fungi shall <span class="pageNum" id="pb309">[<a href="#pb309">309</a>]</span>reveal what the Fly could hardly be expected to show us. -</p> -<p>This is a pretty little black Beetle, with a pale and velvety belly, round as a cherry-stone -and much the same size. The insect’s official title is <i lang="la">Bolboceras gallicus</i>, <span class="sc">Muls.</span> By rubbing the tip of its abdomen against the edge of its wing-cases it emits a soft -chirrup similar to that of the little birds when their mother comes home with their -food. The male wears a graceful horn on his head, copied on a smaller scale from that -of the Spanish Copris.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2458src" href="#xd31e2458">5</a> -</p> -<p>Deceived by this armour, I at first took the insect for a member of the Dung-beetles’ -corporation and brought it up as such in captivity. I served it with these stercoral -dainties which are most appreciated by its presumed colleagues. But never, no, never -did it consent to touch them. Fie, for shame! Dung to a Bolboceras! Well! What on -earth did I take him for? The epicure expects something very different. He wants not -exactly the truffle of our banquets, but its equivalent. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb310">[<a href="#pb310">310</a>]</span></p> -<p>This characteristic was not displayed to me without patient investigation on my part. -At the southern foot of the Sérignan hills, not far from the village, stands a thicket -of maritime pines, alternating with rows of cypress-trees. Here, at the season of -All Saints, after the autumnal rains, the mushrooms abound that frequent the Coniferæ, -in particular the delicious milk-mushroom, which turns green at any part that is bruised -and sheds tears of blood when you break it.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2469src" href="#xd31e2469">6</a> In the mild days of autumn this is the favourite walk of my household, being far -enough to exercise young legs and near enough not to tire them. -</p> -<p>They find everything there: old Magpies’ nests, formed of bundles of twigs; Jays squabbling -with one another, after filling their crops with acorns on the oaks hard by; Rabbits -suddenly starting out of a rosemary-bush, showing their little white upturned scuts; -Geotrupes<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2477src" href="#xd31e2477">7</a> hoarding away food for the winter and heaping up their rubbish on the <span class="pageNum" id="pb311">[<a href="#pb311">311</a>]</span>threshold of the burrow. And then lovely sand, soft to the touch, easy to dig into -tunnels, easy to build into rows of huts which we thatch with moss and surmount with -a bit of reed by way of a chimney; and the delicious lunch off an apple to the sound -of the Æolian harps softly sighing through the pine-needles! -</p> -<p>Yes, for the children it is a real paradise, where one goes as a reward for well-learnt -lessons. The grown-ups also have their share of enjoyment. As far as I am concerned, -I have for many years been watching two insects here, without succeeding in discovering -their family secrets. One of them is <i lang="la">Minotaurus typhœus</i>,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2490src" href="#xd31e2490">8</a> whose male carries on his corselet three spikes pointing in front of him. The old -writers used to call him the Phalangist, because of his armour, which may be compared -with the three lines of spears of the Macedonian phalanx. -</p> -<p>He is a robust fellow, who cares nothing for the winter. All through the cold season, -whenever the weather turns a trifle milder, he leaves his house discreetly, at nightfall, -and gathers, in the immediate neighbourhood <span class="pageNum" id="pb312">[<a href="#pb312">312</a>]</span>of his burrow, a few Sheep-droppings, ancient, olive-shaped remains dried by the summer -sun. He heaps them in a stack at the bottom of his larder, shuts the door and eats. -When the provisions are all crumbed and drained of their niggardly juices, he climbs -back to the surface and renews his stores. Thus does he spend the winter, never resting -from his work, except when the weather is too severe. -</p> -<p>The second object of my observations in the pine-wood is the Bolboceras. His burrows, -distributed here and there, among those of the Minotaur, are easily distinguished. -The Phalangist’s are surmounted by a bulky mound the materials of which are heaped -into a cylinder as long as one’s finger. Each of these rolls is a load of rubbish -pushed outside by the digger, thrusting with his back from below. The orifice moreover -is closed whenever the Beetle is at home, either enlarging the shaft or peacefully -enjoying his possessions. -</p> -<p>The Bolboceras’ lodging is open and surrounded merely by a padding of sand. Its depth -is slight, nine inches, hardly more. It goes straight down in very loose soil. It -is easily inspected, therefore, if we take care first <span class="pageNum" id="pb313">[<a href="#pb313">313</a>]</span>to dig a trench in front of it, which will enable us later to cut away the perpendicular -wall, slice by slice, with the blade of a knife. The burrow then appears at full length, -from top to bottom, in a semicylindrical shape. -</p> -<p>Often the violated dwelling-house is empty. The insect has left during the night, -having finished its business there and gone to settle elsewhere. The Bolboceras is -a nomad, a night-walker, who leaves his home without regret and easily acquires a -new one. Sometimes also the insect is found at the bottom of the pit: at one time -a male, at another a female, but never the two at a time. The sexes, both equally -zealous in digging burrows, work separately, not together. This is not, in fact, a -family residence, containing the nursery of the young; it is a temporary abode, dug -by each occupant for his own comfort. -</p> -<p>Sometimes we find nothing there but the well-sinker, surprised during his work of -excavation; sometimes, lastly—and the case is not uncommon—the hermit of the crypt -embraces with his legs a small hypogean fungus, either intact or partly consumed. -He clutches it convulsively, refuses to be parted from it. It is his booty, his fortune, -his <span class="pageNum" id="pb314">[<a href="#pb314">314</a>]</span>worldly goods. Scattered crumbs tell us that we have caught him feasting. -</p> -<p>Let us take his prize away from him. We shall see a sort of irregular, rugged purse, -closed on every side and varying in size between a pea and a cherry. Outside it is -reddish, rough with little warts; inside it is smooth and white. The spores, which -are ovoid and diaphanous, are contained, in rows of eight, in long satchels. By these -characteristics we recognize an underground cryptogamous product, nearly related to -the truffles and known to botanists as <i lang="la">Hydnocystis arenaria</i>, <span class="sc">Tul.</span> -</p> -<p>This throws a light upon the habits of the Bolboceras and upon the reason why his -burrows are so frequently renewed. In the calm of the twilight, the little gadabout -takes to the fields, chirruping softly as he goes, cheering himself with song. He -explores the soil, questions it as to its contents, just as the Dog does when hunting -for truffles. His sense of smell warns him when the coveted morsel is underneath, -covered by a few inches of sand. Certain of the exact spot where the thing lies, he -digs straight down and never fails to reach it. As long as the provisions last, he -<span class="pageNum" id="pb315">[<a href="#pb315">315</a>]</span>does not go out again. Blissfully he feeds at the bottom of the well, heedless of -the door left open or hardly barred. -</p> -<p>When no more food remains, he moves, looking for another loaf, which will become the -excuse for a fresh burrow, to be abandoned in its turn. Each fungus consumed represents -a new house, which is a mere refectory, a traveller’s refreshment-room. Thus are the -autumn and spring, the seasons of the hydnocystis, spent in the pleasures of the table, -from one home to the next. -</p> -<p>To study the <i lang="fr">rabassier</i> insect more closely, in my own house, I should need a little store of its favourite -fare. It would be waste of time to seek for it myself, by digging at random: the little -cryptogam is not so plentiful that I can hope to strike it with my trowel without -a guide. The truffle-hunter needs his Dog; my informer shall be the Bolboceras himself. -Behold me turned into a <i lang="fr">rabassier</i> of a new kind. I reveal my secret, which can only raise a smile from my original -instructor in underground botany, if he should ever hear of my singular form of competition. -</p> -<p>The subterranean fungi occur only at certain points, often in groups. Now the Beetle -<span class="pageNum" id="pb316">[<a href="#pb316">316</a>]</span>has been this way; with his delicate scent he has recognized the site as good, for -the burrows are numerous hereabouts. We will therefore dig near the holes. The clue -is accurate. In a few hours, thanks to the tracks left by the Bolboceras, I possess -a handful of hydnocystes. It is the first time that I have gathered this particular -fungus. Let us now catch the insect. That presents no difficulties: we have only to -dig up the burrows. -</p> -<p>I make my experiments the same evening, filling a large earthen pan with fresh, sifted -sand. With a stick as thick as my finger, I make six vertical tunnels in the sand, -two decimetres<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2538src" href="#xd31e2538">9</a> deep and placed at a suitable distance apart. A hydnocystis is lowered to the bottom -of each; and I insert a fine straw, to show me the exact position later. Lastly, I -fill up the six cavities with caked sand. When this surface has been carefully smoothed, -so that the level is everywhere the same, except for the six straws, landmarks that -mean nothing to the Bolboceras, I let loose my captives, covering them with a wire-gauze -cage. There are eight of them. -</p> -<p>At first there is nothing to see save the inevitable <span class="pageNum" id="pb317">[<a href="#pb317">317</a>]</span>uneasiness due to the incidents of their exhumation, transport and confinement in -an unknown place. My exiles from home try to escape, climb up the wire, burrow right -at the edge of the enclosure. Night falls and things grow calmer. Two hours later, -I come to take a last look at them. Three are still buried under a thin layer of sand. -The five others have each dug a perpendicular shaft at the very foot of the straws -which tell me where the fungi lie. Next morning, the sixth straw has its well like -the others. -</p> -<p>This is the moment to see what is happening underground. I remove the sand methodically -in vertical slices. At the bottom of each burrow is a Bolboceras eating his truffle, -the hydnocystis. -</p> -<p>Let us repeat the experiment with the partly-consumed victuals. The result is the -same. At one brief, nocturnal spell of work, the dainty is discovered underground -and reached by means of a gallery which runs plumb to the spot where the morsel lies. -There is no hesitation, no trial excavation guided by guesswork. This is proved by -the surface of the soil, which everywhere is just as I left it when I smoothed it -down. The <span class="pageNum" id="pb318">[<a href="#pb318">318</a>]</span>insect could not have made straighter for the coveted object had it been guided by -sight; it always digs at the foot of the straws, my sign-posts. The Dog, nosing the -ground for truffles, hardly achieves this degree of precision. -</p> -<p>Has the hydnocystis then a very pungent smell, able to give such positive information -to its consumer’s scent? Not at all. To our nostrils it is a neutral object, devoid -of any appreciable olfactory character. A tiny pebble taken out of the ground would -impress us just as much with its faint aroma of fresh earth. As a revealer of underground -fungous products, the Bolboceras here rivals the Dog. He would even rise superior -to the Dog, were he able to generalize. But he is a rigorous specialist: he knows -only the hydnocystis. Nothing else, so far as I am aware, tempts him to dig.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2554src" href="#xd31e2554">10</a> -</p> -<p>Both of them search the subsoil very closely, at the level of the ground; and the -object which they seek is not far down. Were they farther away, neither the Dog nor -the insect <span class="pageNum" id="pb319">[<a href="#pb319">319</a>]</span>would notice effluvia so subtle, not even the smell of a truffle. To make an impression -at a great distance, powerful odours are needed, capable of perception by our olfactory -sense. Then the exploiters of the odorous thing come hastening up on all sides from -afar. -</p> -<p>When, for the purpose of my studies, I require insects that dissect corpses, I expose -a dead Mole in the sun, in a distant corner of the enclosure. As soon as the animal -swells, distended by the gases of putrefaction, and the skin begins to turn green -and the fur to fall from it, up come numbers of Silphæ<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2570src" href="#xd31e2570">11</a> and Dermestes,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2574src" href="#xd31e2574">12</a> Necrophori<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2578src" href="#xd31e2578">13</a> and other Burying-beetles, of whom one would find not a single specimen in the garden, -or even in the neighbourhood, without this bait. -</p> -<p>They have been informed by their sense of smell, at a great distance all around, whereas -I myself can avoid the stench by taking a few steps back. Compared with their scent, -mine is contemptible; but still, in their <span class="pageNum" id="pb320">[<a href="#pb320">320</a>]</span>case as well as mine, there is really here what our language calls a smell. -</p> -<p>I can do better still with the flower of the dragon arum (<i lang="la">Arum dracunculus</i>), so remarkable for its shape and for its unequalled stench. Imagine a wide, lanceolate -blade, of a clarety purple, half a yard long and rolled below into an ovoid pouch -the size of a hen’s egg. Through the opening of this wallet rises a central column -springing from the bottom, a long, bright-green club, encircled at its base by two -bracelets, one of ovaries, the other of stamens. Such, briefly described, is the flower, -or rather the inflorescence, of the dragon arum. -</p> -<p>For two days it exhales a frightful stench of carrion, worse than the proximity of -a dead Dog would yield. During the hottest part of the day, with a wind blowing, it -is loathsome, unbearable. Let us brave the infected atmosphere and go up to it; we -shall behold a curious sight. -</p> -<p>Informed by the foul odour, which spreads far and wide, various insects come flying -along, such insects as make sausage-meat of small corpses—Toads, Adders, Lizards, -Hedgehogs, Moles, Field-mice—which the <span class="pageNum" id="pb321">[<a href="#pb321">321</a>]</span>husbandman hits with his spade and flings away disembowelled on the foot-path. They -swoop down upon the great leaf, which, with its livid purple, looks like a strip of -meat gone bad; they caper about, intoxicated by the smell of corpse which they love; -they roll down the slope and are swallowed up in the purse. After a few hours of bright -sunshine, the receptacle is full. -</p> -<p>Let us look inside, through the narrow opening. No elsewhere could you see such a -crowd. It is a mad whirl of backs and bellies, of wing-cases and legs, swarming, rolling -over and over, amid the snap of interlocked joints, rising and falling, floating and -sinking, seething and bubbling without end. It is a drunken revel, an epidemic of -delirium tremens. -</p> -<p>Some, few as yet, emerging from the mass, climb to the opening by means of the central -pole or the walls of the enclosure. Will they take wing and make their escape? Not -they! Standing on the brink of the chasm, almost free, they drop back into the whirlpool, -in a fresh bout of intoxication. The bait is irresistible. Not one of <span class="pageNum" id="pb322">[<a href="#pb322">322</a>]</span>them will quit the assembly until the evening, or perhaps next morning, when the heady -fumes have evaporated. Then the mass becomes disentangled; and the insects extricate -themselves from one another’s embraces and slowly, as it were regretfully, leave the -place and fly away. At the bottom of this devil’s purse remains a heap of dead and -dying, of severed limbs and disjointed wing-cases, the inevitable result of the frenzied -orgy. Soon, Wood-lice, Earwigs and Ants will arrive and devour the deceased. -</p> -<p>What were they doing there? Were they the prisoners of the flower? Had it converted -itself into a trap which allowed them to enter, but prevented them from escaping, -by means of a fence of converging hairs? No, they were not prisoners; they had full -liberty to go away, as is shown by the final exodus, which is effected without impediment. -Deceived by a false odour, were they doing their best to instal their eggs, as they -would have done under a corpse? Not that either. There is no trace of an attempt at -egg-laying in the dragon’s purse. They came, enticed by the smell of a dead body, -their supreme delight; they were drunk with corpse; <span class="pageNum" id="pb323">[<a href="#pb323">323</a>]</span>and they spun round frantically in an undertakers’ carnival. -</p> -<p>When the bacchanal dance is at its height, I try to count the number of the arrivals. -I rip up the floral pouch and pour its contents into a flask. Absolutely tipsy though -they be, many would escape during the census, which I wish to take accurately. A few -drops of carbon bisulphide deprive the crowd of motion. The counting then shows that -there were over four hundred. Such was the living billow which I saw surging just -now in the dragon’s purse. -</p> -<p>The throng consists entirely of two families, Dermestes and Saprini,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2609src" href="#xd31e2609">14</a> both of whom are very busy in spring turning derelict corpses to account. Here is -a complete list of the visitors to a single flower, with the number of representatives -of each species: <i lang="la">Dermestes Frischii</i>, <span class="sc">Kugel.</span>, 120; <i lang="la">D. undulatus</i>, <span class="sc">Brahm</span>, 90; <i lang="la">D. pardalis</i>, <span class="sc">Schoenh.</span>, 1; <i lang="la">Saprinus subnitidus</i>, <span class="sc">De Mars.</span>, 160; <i lang="la">S. maculatus</i>, <span class="sc">Ross.</span>, 4; <i lang="la">S. detersus</i>, <span class="sc">Illig.</span>, 15; <i lang="la">S. semipunctatus</i>, <span class="sc">De Mars.</span>, 12; <i lang="la">S. œneus</i>, <span class="sc">Fabr.</span>, 2; <i lang="la">S. speculifer</i>, <span class="sc">Latr.</span>, 2. Total: 406. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb324">[<a href="#pb324">324</a>]</span></p> -<p>Another detail deserves attention just as much as this enormous figure; and that is -the complete absence of a number of other genera which are as passionately fond of -small corpses as are the Dermestes and Saprini. My charnel-houses of Moles never fail -to be visited by the Silphæ and Necrophori: <i lang="la">Silpha sinuata</i>, <span class="sc">Fabr.</span>; <i lang="la">S. rugosa</i>, <span class="sc">Lin.</span>; <i lang="la">S. obscura</i>, <span class="sc">Lin.</span>; <i lang="la">Necrophorus vestigator</i>, <span class="sc">Hersch.</span> The reek of the dragon arum leaves them all indifferent. None of them is represented -in the ten flowers which I examine. -</p> -<p>Nor are any Diptera, those other devotees of corruption. Several Flies, some grey -or bluey, others a metallic green, come up, it is true, settle on the edge of the -flower and even find their way into the fetid wallet; but they are almost immediately -undeceived and fly away. Only the Dermestes and Saprini stay behind. Why? -</p> -<p>My friend Bull, as decent a Dog as ever lived, had this among many other eccentricities: -if he found in the dust of the road the dried up corpse of a Mole flattened under -the heels of the passers-by, mummified by the heat of the sun, he would revel in rolling -himself over it from the tip of his nose to the end <span class="pageNum" id="pb325">[<a href="#pb325">325</a>]</span>of his tail; he would rub himself in it over and over again, shaken with nervous spasms, -turning first on one side, then on the other. It was his sachet of musk, his flask -of eau-de-Cologne. When scented to his liking, he would get up, shake himself and -trot off, pleased as Punch with his pomade. Let us not abuse him and, above all, let -us not discuss the matter. There are tastes of all kinds in this world. -</p> -<p>Why should not some of the insects that dote on the smell of the dead have similar -habits? Dermestes and Saprini come to the dragon arum; all day long they swarm in -throngs, although free to go away; many of them die in the riot of the orgy. It is -no rich provender that keeps them, for the flower gives them nothing to eat; it is -not a question of laying eggs, for they take good care not to settle their grubs in -that famine-stricken spot. What are they doing here, the frenzied ones? Apparently -intoxicating themselves with fetidness, just as Bull did on the carcass of a Mole. -</p> -<p>And this intoxication of smell attracts them from every part around, from very far -perhaps, one cannot tell. Even so the Necrophori, <span class="pageNum" id="pb326">[<a href="#pb326">326</a>]</span>in quest of an establishment for their young, hasten from the fields to my putrefying -Moles. Both are informed by a potent smell, which offends our nostrils sixty yards -away, but which travels ahead and delights them at distances where our own power of -scent ceases. -</p> -<p>The hydnocystis, the Bolboceras’ treat, has none of these violent emanations, capable -of being diffused through space; it is devoid of smell, at least to us. The insect -that hunts for it does not come from a distance; it inhabits the very places where -the cryptogam lies. However faint the effluvia of the underground morsel, the prying -epicure, equipped for the purpose, has every facility for perceiving them: he operates -close by, on the surface of the soil. The Dog’s case is the same: he goes along searching, -with his nose to the ground. Then, too, the real truffle, the essential object of -his quest, possesses a most pronounced odour. -</p> -<p>But what are we to say of the Great Peacock and the Banded Monk, making their way -to the female born in captivity? They hasten from the ends of the horizon. What do -they perceive at that distance? Is it really <span class="pageNum" id="pb327">[<a href="#pb327">327</a>]</span>an odour, as our physiology understands the word? I cannot bring myself to believe -it. -</p> -<p>The Dog smells the truffle by sniffing the earth, quite close to the tuber; he finds -his master at great distances by consulting the scent of his footprints. But is he -able to discover the truffle hundreds of yards away, miles away? Can he join his master -in the complete absence of a trail? Certainly not. For all his fineness of scent, -the Dog is incapable of such a feat, which is performed, however by the Moth, who -is put off neither by distance nor by the lack of any traces out of doors of the female -hatched on my table. -</p> -<p>It is a recognized fact that smell, ordinary smell, the smell that affects our nostrils, -consists of molecules emanating from the scented body. The odorous matter dissolves -and is diffused throughout the air by communicating to the air its aroma, even as -sugar dissolves and is diffused in water by communicating to the water its sweetness. -Smell and taste touch each other at some points; in both cases there is a contact -between the material particles that give the impression and the sensitive papillæ -that receive it. -</p> -<p>Nothing can be simpler or clearer than that <span class="pageNum" id="pb328">[<a href="#pb328">328</a>]</span>the dragon arum elaborates an intensely strong essence with which the air is impregnated -and infected all around. Thus the Dermestes and Saprini, those passionate lovers of -carrion smells, are informed by molecular diffusion. In the same way, the putrid Toad -gives out and disseminates the stinking atoms that are the Necrophorus’ delight. -</p> -<p>But what is materially emitted by the female Bombyx or Great Peacock? Nothing, according -to our sense of smell. And this nothing is supposed, when the males congregate, to -saturate an immense circle, several miles in radius, with its molecules! What the -horrible stench of the dragon arum is unable to do the absence of odour is believed -to accomplish! However divisible matter may be, the mind refuses to accept such conclusions. -It would be tantamount to reddening a lake with an atom of carmine, to filling immensity -with nothing. -</p> -<p>Another argument. When my study is saturated beforehand with pungent odours which -ought to overcome and destroy the most delicate effluvia, the male Moths arrive without -the least sign of embarrassment. -</p> -<p>A loud noise kills the faint note and prevents <span class="pageNum" id="pb329">[<a href="#pb329">329</a>]</span>it from being heard; a bright light eclipses a feeble gleam. These are waves of the -same nature. But the roar of thunder cannot cause the least jet of light to pale; -nor can the dazzling glory of the sun stifle the least sound. Being of different natures, -light and sound do not influence each other. -</p> -<p>The experiment with the lavender-oil, naphthaline and the rest would therefore seem -to prove that odour proceeds from two sources. For emission substitute undulation; -and the problem of the Great Peacock is explained. Without losing any of its substance, -a luminous point shakes the ether with its vibrations and fills a circle of indefinite -width with light. This must almost express the working of the mother Bombyx’ tell-tale -discharge. It does not emit molecules: it vibrates; it sets in motion waves capable -of spreading to distances incompatible with a real diffusion of matter. -</p> -<p>In its entirety, smell would thus seem to have two domains: that of the particles -dissolved in the air and that of the ethereal waves. The first alone is known to us. -It belongs also to the insect. It is this which informs the Saprinus of the dragon -arum’s <span class="pageNum" id="pb330">[<a href="#pb330">330</a>]</span>fetidity and the Silpha and Necrophorus of the stench of the Mole. -</p> -<p>The second, which is far superior in its range through space, escapes us altogether, -because we lack the necessary sensory equipment. The Great Peacock and the Banded -Monk know it at the time of the nuptial rejoicings. And many others must share it -in various degrees, according to the exigencies of their mode of life. -</p> -<p>Like light, odour has its X-rays. Should science one day, instructed by the insect, -endow us with a radiograph of smells, this artificial nose will open out to us a world -of marvels. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb331">[<a href="#pb331">331</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2356"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2356src">1</a></span> The Abbé Lazaro Spallanzani (1729–99), an early experimenter in natural history and -author of a number of important works on the circulation of the blood, on digestion, -on generation and on microscopic animals. Cf. <i>The Hunting Wasps</i>: chap. xix.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2356src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2362"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2362src">2</a></span> Cf. <i>The Mason-Bees</i>, <i>passim.</i>—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2362src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2386"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2386src">3</a></span> <i lang="fr">Rabasso</i> is the Provençal for truffle. Hence the word <i lang="fr">rabassier</i> to denote a truffle-hunter.—<i>Author’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2386src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2395"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2395src">4</a></span> For some account of Fabre’s drawings of the fungi of his district, cf. <i>The Life of the Fly</i>, by J. Henri Fabre, translated by Alexander Teixeira de Mattos: chap. xvii.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2395src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2458"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2458src">5</a></span> One of the Dung-beetles. Cf. <i>The Life and Love of the Insect</i>: chap. v.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2458src" title="Return to note 5 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2469"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2469src">6</a></span> Cf. <i>The Life of the Fly</i>: chap. xviii.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2469src" title="Return to note 6 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2477"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2477src">7</a></span> Cf. <i>The Life and Love of the Insect</i>: chap. ix.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2477src" title="Return to note 7 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2490"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2490src">8</a></span> A Dung-beetle. Cf. <i>The Life and Love of the Insect</i>: chap. x.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2490src" title="Return to note 8 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2538"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2538src">9</a></span> 7.8 inches.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2538src" title="Return to note 9 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2554"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2554src">10</a></span> Since writing the above lines, I have found him eating one of the true Tuberaceæ, -<i lang="la">Tuber Requienii</i>, <span class="sc">Tul.</span>, the size of a cherry.—<i>Author’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2554src" title="Return to note 10 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2570"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2570src">11</a></span> Carrion-beetles proper.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2570src" title="Return to note 11 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2574"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2574src">12</a></span> Bacon-beetles—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2574src" title="Return to note 12 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2578"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2578src">13</a></span> Burying-beetles proper.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2578src" title="Return to note 13 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2609"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2609src">14</a></span> A species of small carnivorous Beetles.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2609src" title="Return to note 14 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div id="ch14" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e317">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XIV</h2> -<h2 class="main">THE CABBAGE-CATERPILLAR</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">The cabbage of our modern kitchen-gardens is a semi-artificial plant, the produce -of our agricultural ingenuity quite as much as of the niggardly gifts of nature. Spontaneous -vegetation supplied us with the long-stalked, scanty-leaved, ill-smelling wilding, -as found, according to the botanists, on the ocean cliffs. He had need of a rare inspiration -who first showed faith in this rustic clown and proposed to improve it in his garden-patch. -</p> -<p>Progressing by <span class="corr" id="xd31e2743" title="Source: infinitestimal">infinitesimal</span> degrees, culture wrought miracles. It began by persuading the wild cabbage to discard -its wretched leaves, beaten by the sea-winds, and to replace them by others, ample -and fleshy and close-fitting. The gentle cabbage submitted without protest. It deprived -itself of the joys of light by arranging its leaves in a large, compact head, white -and tender. In our day, among the successors of those first tiny hearts, are some -that, by virtue of their massive bulk, <span class="pageNum" id="pb332">[<a href="#pb332">332</a>]</span>have earned the glorious name of <i lang="fr">chou quintal</i>, as who should say, a hundredweight of cabbage. They are real monuments of green -stuff. -</p> -<p>Later, man thought of obtaining a generous dish with the thousand little sprays of -the inflorescence. The cabbage consented. Under the cover of the central leaves, it -gorged with food its sheaves of blossom, its flower-stalks, its branches and worked -the lot into a fleshy conglomeration. This is the cauliflower, the broccoli. -</p> -<p>Differently entreated, the plant, economizing in the centre of its shoot, set a whole -family of <span class="corr" id="xd31e2754" title="Source: closs-wrapped">close-wrapped</span> cabbages ladder-wise on a tall stem. A multitude of dwarf leaf-buds took the place -of the colossal head. This is the Brussels sprout. -</p> -<p>Next comes the turn of the stump, an unprofitable, almost wooden thing, which seemed -never to have any other purpose than to act as a support for the plant. But the tricks -of gardeners are capable of everything, so much so that the stalk yields to the grower’s -suggestions and becomes fleshy and swells into an ellipse similar to the turnip, of -which it possesses all the merits of corpulence, <span class="pageNum" id="pb333">[<a href="#pb333">333</a>]</span>flavour and delicacy; only the strange product serves as a base for a few sparse leaves, -the last protests of a real stem that refuses to lose its attributes entirely. This -is the colerape. -</p> -<p>If the stem allows itself to be allured, why not the root? It does in fact, yield -to the blandishments of agriculture: it dilates its pivot into a flat turnip, which -half emerges from the ground. This is the rutabaga, or swede, the turnip-cabbage of -our northern districts. -</p> -<p>Incomparably docile under our nursing, the cabbage has given its all for our nourishment -and that of our cattle: its leaves, its flowers, its buds, its stalk, its root; all -that it now wants is to combine the ornamental with the useful, to smarten itself, -to adorn our flowerbeds and cut a good figure on a drawing-room table. It has done -this to perfection, not with its flowers, which, in their modesty, continue intractible, -but with its curly and variegated leaves, which have the undulating grace of Ostrich-feathers -and the rich colouring of a mixed bouquet. None who beholds it in this magnificence -will recognize the near relation <span class="pageNum" id="pb334">[<a href="#pb334">334</a>]</span>of the vulgar “greens” that form the basis of our cabbage-soup. -</p> -<p>The cabbage, first in order of date in our kitchen-gardens, was held in high esteem -by classic antiquity, next after the bean and, later, the pea; but it goes much farther -back, so far indeed that no memories of its acquisition remain. History pays but little -attention to these details: it celebrates the battle-fields whereon we meet our death, -it scorns to speak of the ploughed fields whereby we thrive; it knows the names of -the kings’ bastards, it cannot tell us the origin of wheat. That is the way of human -folly. -</p> -<p>This silence respecting the precious plants that serve as food is most regrettable. -The cabbage in particular, the venerable cabbage, that denizen of the most ancient -garden-plots, would have had extremely interesting things to teach us. It is a treasure -in itself, but a treasure twice exploited, first by man and next by the caterpillar -of the Pieris, the common Large White Butterfly whom we all know (<i lang="la">Pieris brassicæ</i>, <span class="sc">Lin.</span>). This caterpillar feeds indiscriminately on the leaves of all varieties of cabbage, -however dissimilar in appearance: he nibbles with the same appetite <span class="pageNum" id="pb335">[<a href="#pb335">335</a>]</span>red cabbage and broccoli, curly greens and savoy, swedes and turnip-tops, in short, -all that our ingenuity, lavish of time and patience, has been able to obtain from -the original plant since the most distant ages. -</p> -<p>But what did the caterpillar eat before our cabbages supplied him with copious provender? -Obviously the Pieris did not wait for the advent of man and his horticultural works -in order to take part in the joys of life. She lived without us and would have continued -to live without us. A Butterfly’s existence is not subject to ours, but rightfully -independent of our aid. -</p> -<p>Before the white-heart, the cauliflower, the savoy and the others were invented, the -Pieris’ caterpillar certainly did not lack food: he browsed the wild cabbage of the -cliffs, the parent of all the latter-day wealth; but, as this plant is not widely -distributed and is, in any case, limited to certain maritime regions, the welfare -of the Butterfly, whether on plain or hill, demanded a more luxuriant and more common -plant for pasturage. This plant was apparently one of the Cruciferæ, more or less -seasoned with sulphuretted essence, like the cabbages. Let us experiment on these -lines. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb336">[<a href="#pb336">336</a>]</span></p> -<p>I rear the Pieris’ caterpillars from the egg upwards on the wall-rocket (<i lang="la">Diplotaxis tenuifolia</i>, <span class="sc">Dec.</span>), which imbibes strong spices along the edge of the paths and at the foot of the -walls. Penned in a large, wire-gauze bell-cage, they accept this provender without -demur; they nibble it with the same appetite as if it were cabbage; and they end by -producing chrysalids and Butterflies. The change of fare causes not the least trouble. -</p> -<p>I am equally successful with other crucifers of a less marked flavour: white mustard -(<i lang="la">Sinapis incana</i>, <span class="sc">Lin.</span>), dyer’s woad (<i lang="la">Isatis tinctoria</i>, <span class="sc">Lin.</span>), wild radish (<i lang="la">Raphanus raphanistrum</i>, <span class="sc">Lin.</span>), whitlow pepperwort (<i lang="la">Lepidium draba</i>, <span class="sc">Lin.</span>), hedge-mustard (<i lang="la">Sisymbrium officinale</i>, <span class="sc">Scop.</span>). On the other hand, the leaves of the lettuce, the bean, the pea, the corn-salad -are obstinately refused. Let us be content with what we have seen: the fare has been -sufficiently varied to show us that the Cabbage-caterpillar feeds exclusively on a -large number of crucifers, perhaps even on all. -</p> -<p>As these experiments are made in the enclosure of a bell-cage, one might imagine that -captivity impels the flock to feed, in the <span class="pageNum" id="pb337">[<a href="#pb337">337</a>]</span>absence of better things, on what it would refuse were it free to hunt for itself. -Having naught else within their reach, the starvelings consume any and all Cruciferæ, -without distinction of species. Can things sometimes be the same in the open fields, -where I play none of my tricks? Can the family of the White Butterfly be settled on -other crucifers than the cabbage? I start a quest along the paths near the gardens -and end by finding on wild radish and white mustard colonies as crowded and prosperous -as those established on cabbage. -</p> -<p>Now, except when the metamorphosis is at hand, the caterpillar of the White Butterfly -never travels: he does all his growing on the identical plant whereon he saw the light. -The caterpillars observed on the wild radish, as well as other households, are not, -therefore, emigrants who have come as a matter of fancy from some cabbage-patch in -the neighbourhood: they have hatched on the very leaves where I find them. Hence I -arrive at this conclusion: the White Butterfly, who is fitful in her flight, chooses -cabbage first, to dab her eggs upon, and different Cruciferæ next, varying greatly -in appearance. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb338">[<a href="#pb338">338</a>]</span></p> -<p>How does the Pieris manage to know her way about her botanical domain? We have seen -the Larini,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2832src" href="#xd31e2832">1</a> those explorers of fleshy receptacles with an artichoke flavour, astonish us with -their knowledge of the flora of the thistle tribe; but their lore might, at a pinch, -be explained by the method followed at the moment of housing the egg. With their rostrum, -they prepare niches and dig out basins in the receptacle exploited and consequently -they taste the thing a little before entrusting their eggs to it. On the other hand, -the Butterfly, a nectar-drinker, makes not the least enquiry into the savoury qualities -of the leafage; at most, dipping her proboscis into the flowers, she abstracts a mouthful -of syrup. This means of investigation, moreover, would be of no use to her, for the -plant selected for the establishing of her family is, for the most part, not yet in -flower. The mother flits for a moment around the plant; and that swift examination -is enough: the emission of eggs takes place if the provender be found suitable. -</p> -<p>The botanist, to recognize a crucifer, requires <span class="pageNum" id="pb339">[<a href="#pb339">339</a>]</span>the indications provided by the flower. Here the Pieris surpasses us. She does not -consult the seed-vessel, to see if it be long or short, nor yet the petals, four in -number and arranged in a cross, because the plant, as a rule, is not in flower; and -still she recognizes off-hand what suits her caterpillars, in spite of profound differences -that would embarrass any but a botanical expert. -</p> -<p>Unless the Pieris has an innate power of discrimination to guide her, it is impossible -to understand the great extent of her vegetable realm. She needs for her family Cruciferæ, -nothing but Cruciferæ; and she knows this group of plants to perfection. I have been -an enthusiastic botanist for half a century and more. Nevertheless, to discover if -this or that plant, new to me, is or is not one of the Cruciferæ, in the absence of -flowers and fruits I should have more faith in the Butterfly’s statements than in -all the learned records of the books. Where science is apt to make mistakes, instinct -is infallible. -</p> -<p>The Pieris has two families a year: one in April and May, the other in September. -The cabbage-patches are renewed in those same months. The Butterfly’s calendar tallies -with <span class="pageNum" id="pb340">[<a href="#pb340">340</a>]</span>the gardener’s: the moment that provisions are in sight, consumers are forthcoming -for the feast. -</p> -<p>The eggs are a bright orange-yellow and do not lack prettiness when examined under -the lens. They are blunted cones, ranged side by side on their round base and adorned -with finely-scored longitudinal ridges. They are collected in slabs, sometimes on -the upper surface, when the leaf that serves as a support is spread wide, sometimes -on the lower surface when the leaf is pressed to the next ones. Their number varies -considerably. Slabs of a couple of hundred are pretty frequent; isolated eggs, or -eggs collected in small groups, are, on the contrary, rare. The mother’s output is -affected by the degree of quietness at the moment of laying. -</p> -<p>The outer circumference of the group is irregularly formed, but the inside presents -a certain order. The eggs are here arranged in straight rows backing against one another -in such a way that each egg finds a double support in the preceding row. This alternation, -without being of an irreproachable precision, gives a fairly stable equilibrium to -the whole. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb341">[<a href="#pb341">341</a>]</span></p> -<p>To see the mother at her laying is no easy matter: when examined too closely, the -Pieris decamps at once. The structure of the work, however, reveals the order of the -operations pretty clearly. The ovipositor swings slowly first in this direction, then -in that, by turns; and a new egg is lodged in each space between two adjoining eggs -in the previous row. The extent of the oscillation determines the length of the row, -which is longer or shorter according to the layer’s fancy. -</p> -<p>The hatching takes place in about a week. It is almost simultaneous for the whole -mass: as soon as one caterpillar comes out of its egg, the others come out also, as -though the natal impulse were communicated from one to the other. In the same way, -in the nest of the Praying Mantis, a warning seems to be spread abroad, arousing every -one of the population. It is a wave propagated in all directions from the point first -struck. -</p> -<p>The egg does not open by means of a dehiscence similar to that of the vegetable-pods -whose seeds have attained maturity; it is the new-born grub itself that contrives -an exit-way by gnawing a hole in its enclosure. In this manner, it obtains near the -top of the <span class="pageNum" id="pb342">[<a href="#pb342">342</a>]</span>cone a symmetrical dormer-window, clean-edged, with no joins nor unevenness of any -kind, showing that this part of the wall has been nibbled away and swallowed. But -for this breach, which is just wide enough for the deliverance, the egg remains intact, -standing firmly on its base. It is now that the lens is best able to take in its elegant -structure. What it sees is a bag made of ultra-fine goldbeater’s-skin, translucent, -stiff and white, retaining the complete form of the original egg. A score of streaked -and knotted lines run from the top to the base. It is the wizard’s pointed cap, the -mitre with the grooves carved into jewelled chaplets. All said, the Cabbage-caterpillar’s -birth-casket is an exquisite work of art. -</p> -<p>The hatching of the lot is finished in a couple of hours and the swarming family musters -on the layer of swaddling-clothes, still in the same position. For a long time, before -descending to the fostering leaf, it lingers on this kind of hot-bed, is even very -busy there. Busy with what? It is browsing a strange kind of grass, the handsome mitres -that remain standing on end. Slowly and methodically, from top to base, the new-born -<span class="pageNum" id="pb343">[<a href="#pb343">343</a>]</span>grubs nibble the wallets whence they have just emerged. By to-morrow, nothing is left -of these but a pattern of round dots, the bases of the vanished sacks. -</p> -<p>As his first mouthfuls, therefore, the Cabbage-caterpillar eats the membranous wrapper -of his egg. This is a regulation diet, for I have never seen one of the little grubs -allow itself to be tempted by the adjacent green stuff before finishing the ritual -repast whereat skin bottles furnish forth the feast. It is the first time that I have -seen a larva make a meal of the sack in which it was born. Of what use can this singular -fare be to the budding caterpillar? I suspect as follows: the leaves of the cabbage -are waxed and slippery surfaces and nearly always slant considerably. To graze on -them without risking a fall, which would be fatal in earliest childhood, is hardly -possible unless with moorings that afford a steady support. What is needed is bits -of silk stretched along the road as fast as progress is made, something for the legs -to grip, something to provide a good anchorage even when the grub is upside down. -The silk-tubes, where those moorings are manufactured, must be very scantily supplied -in a tiny, new-born <span class="pageNum" id="pb344">[<a href="#pb344">344</a>]</span>animal; and it is expedient that they be filled without delay with the aid of a special -form of nourishment. Then what shall the nature of the first food be? Vegetable matter, -slow to elaborate and niggardly in its yield, does not fulfil the desired conditions -at all well, for time presses and we must trust ourselves safely to the slippery leaf. -An animal diet would be preferable: it is easier to digest and undergoes chemical -changes in a shorter time. The wrapper of the egg is of a horny nature, as silk itself -is. It will not take long to transform the one into the other. The grub therefore -tackles the remains of its egg and turns it into silk to carry with it on its first -journeys. -</p> -<p>If my surmise is well-founded, there is reason to believe that, with a view to speedily -filling the silk-glands to which they look to supply them with ropes, other caterpillars -beginning their existence on smooth and steeply-slanting leaves also take as their -first mouthful the membranous sack which is all that remains of the egg. -</p> -<p>The whole of the platform of birth-sacks which was the first camping-ground of the -White Butterfly’s family is razed to the ground; naught remains but the round marks -<span class="pageNum" id="pb345">[<a href="#pb345">345</a>]</span>of the individual pieces that composed it. The structure of piles has disappeared; -the prints left by the piles remain. The little caterpillars are now on the level -of the leaf which shall henceforth feed them. They are a pale orange-yellow, with -a sprinkling of white bristles. The head is a shiny black and remarkably powerful; -it already gives signs of the coming gluttony. The little animal measures scarcely -two millimetres<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2869src" href="#xd31e2869">2</a> in length. -</p> -<p>The troop begins its steadying-work as soon as it comes into contact with its pasturage, -the green cabbage-leaf. Here, there, in its immediate neighbourhood, each grub emits -from its spinning-glands short cables so slender that it takes an attentive lens to -catch a glimpse of them. This is enough to ensure the equilibrium of the almost imponderable -atom. -</p> -<p>The vegetarian meal now begins. The grub’s length promptly increases from two millimetres -to four. Soon, a moult takes place which alters its costume: its skin becomes speckled, -on a pale-yellow ground, with a number of black dots intermingled with white bristles. -Three or four days of rest are necessary after the fatigue of breaking cover. <span class="pageNum" id="pb346">[<a href="#pb346">346</a>]</span>When this is over, the hunger-fit starts that will make a ruin of the cabbage within -a few weeks. -</p> -<p>What an appetite! What a stomach, working continuously day and night! It is a devouring -laboratory, through which the foodstuffs merely pass, transformed at once. I serve -up to my caged herd a bunch of leaves picked from among the biggest: two hours later, -nothing remains but the thick midribs; and even these are attacked when there is any -delay in renewing the victuals. At this rate, a “hundredweight-cabbage,” doled out -leaf by leaf, would not last my menagerie a week. -</p> -<p>The gluttonous animal, therefore, when it swarms and multiplies, is a scourge. How -are we to protect our gardens against it? In the days of Pliny, the great Latin naturalist, -a stake was set up in the middle of the cabbage-bed to be preserved; and on this stake -was fixed a Horse’s skull bleached in the sun: a Mare’s skull was considered even -better. This sort of bogey was supposed to ward off the devouring brood. -</p> -<p>My confidence in this preservative is but an indifferent one; my reason for mentioning -it <span class="pageNum" id="pb347">[<a href="#pb347">347</a>]</span>is that it reminds me of a custom still observed in our own days, at least in my part -of the country. Nothing is so long-lived as absurdity. Tradition has retained, in -a simplified form, the ancient defensive apparatus of which Pliny speaks. For the -Horse’s skull our people have substituted an eggshell on the top of a switch stuck -among the cabbages. It is easier to arrange; also, it is quite as useful, that is -to say, it has no effect whatever. -</p> -<p>Everything, even the nonsensical, is capable of explanation with a little credulity. -When I question the peasants, our neighbours, they tell me that the effect of the -eggshell is as simple as can be: the Butterflies, attracted by the whiteness, come -and lay their eggs on it. Broiled by the sun and lacking all nourishment on that thankless -support, the little caterpillars die; and that makes so many fewer. -</p> -<p>I insist; I ask them if they have ever seen slabs of eggs or masses of young caterpillars -on those white shells. -</p> -<p>“Never,” they reply, with one voice. -</p> -<p>“Well, then?” -</p> -<p>“It was done in the old days and so we go on doing it: that’s all we know; and that’s -enough for us.” -<span class="pageNum" id="pb348">[<a href="#pb348">348</a>]</span></p> -<p>I leave it at that, persuaded that the memory of the Horse’s skull used once upon -a time is ineradicable, like all the rustic absurdities implanted by the ages. -</p> -<p>We have, when all is said, but one means of protection, which is to watch and inspect -the cabbage-leaves assiduously and crush the slabs of eggs between our finger and -thumb and the caterpillars with our feet. Nothing is so effective as this method, -which makes great demands on one’s time and vigilance. What pains to obtain an unspoilt -cabbage! And what a debt do we not owe to those humble scrapers of the soil, those -ragged heroes who provide us with the wherewithal to live! -</p> -<p>To eat and digest, to accumulate reserves whence the Butterfly will issue: that is -the caterpillar’s one and only business. The Cabbage-caterpillar performs it with -insatiable gluttony. Incessantly it browses, incessantly digests: the supreme felicity -of an animal which is little more than an intestine. There is never a distraction, -unless it be certain see-saw movements which are particularly curious when several -caterpillars are grazing side by side, abreast. Then, at intervals, all the heads -<span class="pageNum" id="pb349">[<a href="#pb349">349</a>]</span>in the row are briskly lifted and as briskly lowered, time after time, with an automatic -precision worthy of a Prussian drill-ground. Can it be their method of intimidating -an always possible aggressor? Can it be a manifestation of gaiety, when the wanton -sun warms their full paunches? Whether sign of fear or sign of bliss, this is the -only exercise that the gluttons allow themselves until the proper degree of plumpness -is attained. -</p> -<p>After a month’s grazing, the voracious appetite of my caged herd is assuaged. The -caterpillars climb the trelliswork in every direction, walk about anyhow, with their -fore-part raised and searching space. Here and there, as they pass, the swaying herd -put forth a thread. They wander restlessly, anxiously to travel afar. The exodus now -prevented by the trellised enclosure I once saw under excellent conditions. At the -advent of the cold weather, I had placed a few cabbage-stalks, covered with caterpillars, -in a small greenhouse. Those who saw the common kitchen vegetable sumptuously lodged -under glass, in the company of the pelargonium and the Chinese primrose, were astonished -at my curious fancy. I let them smile. I had my <span class="pageNum" id="pb350">[<a href="#pb350">350</a>]</span>plans: I wanted to find out how the family of the Large White Butterfly behaves when -the cold weather sets in. Things happened just as I wished. At the end of November, -the caterpillars, having grown to the desired extent, left the cabbages, one by one, -and began to roam about the walls. None of them fixed himself there or made preparations -for the transformation. I suspected that they wanted the choice of a spot in the open -air, exposed to all the rigours of winter. I therefore left the door of the hothouse -open. Soon, the whole crowd had disappeared. -</p> -<p>I found them dispersed all over the neighbouring walls, some thirty yards off. The -thrust of a ledge, the eaves formed by a projecting bit of mortar served them as a -shelter where the chrysalid moult took place and where the winter was passed. The -Cabbage-caterpillar possesses a robust constitution, unsusceptible to torrid heat -or icy cold. All that he needs for his metamorphosis is an airy lodging, free from -permanent damp. -</p> -<p>The inmates of my fold, therefore, move about for a few days on the trelliswork, anxious -to travel afar in search of a wall. Finding none and realizing that time presses, -<span class="pageNum" id="pb351">[<a href="#pb351">351</a>]</span>they resign themselves. Each one, supporting himself on the trellis, first weaves -around himself a thin carpet of white silk, which will form the sustaining layer at -the time of the laborious and delicate work of the nymphosis. He fixes his rear-end -to this base by a silk pad and his fore-part by a strap that passes under his shoulders -and is fixed on either side to the carpet. Thus slung from his three fastenings, he -strips himself of his larval apparel and turns into a chrysalis in the open air, with -no protection save that of the wall, which the caterpillar would certainly have found -had I not interfered. -</p> -<p>Of a surety, he would be short-sighted indeed that pictured a world of good things -prepared exclusively for our advantage. The earth, the great foster-mother, has a -generous breast. At the very moment when nourishing matter is created, even though -it be with our own zealous aid, she summons to the feast host upon host of consumers, -who are all the more numerous and enterprising in proportion as the table is more -amply spread. The cherry of our orchards is excellent eating: a maggot contends with -us for its possession. In vain do we weigh suns and planets: our supremacy, <span class="pageNum" id="pb352">[<a href="#pb352">352</a>]</span>which fathoms the universe, cannot prevent a wretched worm from levying its toll on -the delicious fruit. We make ourselves at home in a cabbage-bed: the sons of the Pieris -make themselves at home there too. Preferring broccoli to wild radish, they profit -where we have profited; and we have no remedy against their competition save caterpillar-raids -and egg-crushing, a thankless, tedious and none too efficacious work. -</p> -<p>Every creature has its claims on life. The Cabbage-caterpillar eagerly puts forth -his own, so much so that the cultivation of the precious plant would be endangered -if others concerned did not take part in its defence. These others are the auxiliaries,<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2914src" href="#xd31e2914">3</a> our helpers from necessity and not from sympathy. The words friend and foe, auxiliaries -and ravagers are here the mere conventions of a language not always adapted to render -the exact truth. He is our foe who eats or attacks our crops; our friend is he who -feeds upon our foes. Everything is reduced to a frenzied contest of appetites. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb353">[<a href="#pb353">353</a>]</span></p> -<p>In the name of the might that is mine, of trickery, of highway robbery, clear out -of that, you, and make room for me: give me your seat at the banquet! That is the -inexorable law in the world of animals and more or less, alas, in our own world as -well! -</p> -<p>Now, among our entomological auxiliaries, the smallest in size are the best at their -work. One of them is charged with watching over the cabbages. She is so small, she -works so discreetly that the gardener does not know her, has not even heard of her. -Were he to see her by accident, flitting around the plant which she protects, he would -take no notice of her, would not suspect the service rendered. I propose to set forth -the tiny midget’s deserts. -</p> -<p>Scientists call her <i lang="la">Microgaster glomeratus</i>. What exactly was in the mind of the author of the name Microgaster, which means -little belly? Did he intend to allude to the insignificance of the abdomen? Not so. -However slight the belly may be, the insect nevertheless possesses one, correctly -proportioned to the rest of the body, so that the classic denomination, far from giving -us any information, might mislead us, were we to trust it <span class="pageNum" id="pb354">[<a href="#pb354">354</a>]</span>wholly. Nomenclature, which changes from day to day and becomes more and more cacophonous, -is an unsafe guide. Instead of asking the animal what its name is, let us begin by -asking: -</p> -<p>“What can you do? What is your business?” -</p> -<p>Well, the Microgaster’s business is to exploit the Cabbage-caterpillar, a clearly-defined -business, admitting of no possible confusion. Would we behold her works? In the spring, -let us inspect the neighbourhood of the kitchen-garden. Be our eye never so unobservant, -we shall notice against the walls or on the withered grasses at the foot of the hedges -some very small yellow cocoons, heaped into masses the size of a hazel-nut. Beside -each group lies a Cabbage-caterpillar, sometimes dying, sometimes dead and always -presenting a most tattered appearance. These cocoons are the work of the Microgaster’s -family, hatched or on the point of hatching into the perfect stage; the caterpillar -is the dish whereon that family has fed during its larval state. The epithet <i lang="la">glomeratus</i>, which accompanies the name of Microgaster, suggests this conglomeration of cocoons. -Let us <span class="pageNum" id="pb355">[<a href="#pb355">355</a>]</span>collect the clusters as they are, without seeking to separate them, an operation which -would demand both patience and dexterity, for the cocoons are closely united by the -inextricable tangle of their surface-threads. In May, a swarm of pigmies will sally -forth, ready to get to business in the cabbages. -</p> -<p>Colloquial language uses the terms Midge and Gnat to describe the tiny insects which -we often see dancing in a ray of sunlight. There is something of everything in those -aerial ballets. It is possible that the persecutrix of the Cabbage-caterpillar is -there, along with many another; but the name of Midge cannot properly be applied to -her. He who says Midge says Fly, Dipteron, two-winged insect; and our friend has four -wings, one and all adapted for flying. By virtue of this characteristic and others -no less important, she belongs to the order of Hymenoptera.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2938src" href="#xd31e2938">4</a> No matter: as our language possesses no more precise term outside the scientific -vocabulary, let us use the expression Midge, which pretty well conveys the general -idea. Our Midge, the Microgaster, is the size of an average <span class="pageNum" id="pb356">[<a href="#pb356">356</a>]</span>Gnat. She measures 3 or 4 millimetres.<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e2944src" href="#xd31e2944">5</a> The two sexes are equally numerous and wear the same costume, a black uniform, all -but the legs, which are pale red. In spite of this likeness, they are easily distinguished. -The male has an abdomen which is slightly flattened and moreover curved at the tip; -the female, before the laying, has hers full and perceptibly distended by its ovular -contents. This rapid sketch of the insect should be enough for our purpose. -</p> -<p>If we wish to know the grub and especially to inform ourselves of its manner of living, -it is advisable to rear in a cage a numerous herd of Cabbage-caterpillars. Whereas -a direct search on the cabbages in our garden would give us but a difficult and uncertain -harvest, by this means we shall daily have as many as we wish before our eyes. -</p> -<p>In the course of June, which is the time when the caterpillars quit their pastures -and go far afield to settle on some wall or other, those in my fold, finding nothing -better, climb to the dome of the cage to make their preparations and to spin a supporting -network for the chrysalid’s needs. Among these spinners <span class="pageNum" id="pb357">[<a href="#pb357">357</a>]</span>we see some weaklings working listlessly at their carpet. Their appearance makes us -deem them in the grip of a mortal disease. I take a few of them and open their bellies, -using a needle by way of a scalpel. What comes out is a bunch of green entrails, soaked -in a bright yellow fluid, which is really the creature’s blood. These tangled intestines -swarm with little, lazy grubs, varying greatly in number, from ten or twenty at least -to sometimes half-a-hundred. They are the offspring of the Microgaster. -</p> -<p>What do they feed on? The lens makes conscientious enquiries; nowhere does it manage -to show me the vermin attacking solid nourishment, fatty tissues, muscles or other -parts; nowhere do I see them bite, gnaw or dissect. The following experiment will -tell us more fully: I pour into a watch-glass the crowds extracted from the hospitable -paunches. I flood them with caterpillar’s blood obtained by simple pricks; I place -the preparation under a glass bell-jar, in a moist atmosphere, to prevent evaporation; -I repeat the nourishing bath by means of fresh bleedings and give them the stimulant -which they would have gained from the living caterpillar. <span class="pageNum" id="pb358">[<a href="#pb358">358</a>]</span>Thanks to these precautions, my charges have all the appearance of excellent health; -they drink and thrive. But this state of things cannot last long. Soon ripe for the -transformation, my grubs leave the dining-room of the watch-glass as they would have -left the caterpillar’s belly; they come to the ground to try and weave their tiny -cocoons. They fail in the attempt and perish. They have missed a suitable support, -that is to say, the silky carpet provided by the dying caterpillar. No matter: I have -seen enough to convince me. The larvae of the Microgaster do not eat in the strict -sense of the word: they live on soup; and that soup is the caterpillar’s blood. -</p> -<p>Examine the parasites closely and you shall see that their diet is bound to be a liquid -one. They are little white grubs, neatly segmented, with a pointed fore-part splashed -with tiny black marks, as though the atom had been slaking its thirst in a drop of -ink. It moves its hind-quarters slowly, without shifting its position. I place it -under the microscope. The mouth is a pore, devoid of any apparatus for disintegration-work: -it has no fangs, no horny nippers, no mandibles; its attack is just <span class="pageNum" id="pb359">[<a href="#pb359">359</a>]</span>a kiss. It does not chew, it sucks, it takes discreet sips at the moisture all around -it. -</p> -<p>The fact that it refrains entirely from biting is confirmed by my autopsy of the stricken -caterpillars. In the patient’s belly, notwithstanding the number of nurselings who -hardly leave room for the nurse’s entrails, everything is in perfect order; nowhere -do we see a trace of mutilation. Nor does aught on the outside betray any havoc within. -The exploited caterpillars graze and move about peacefully, giving no sign of pain. -It is impossible for me to distinguish them from the unscathed ones in respect of -appetite and untroubled digestion. -</p> -<p>When the time approaches to weave the carpet for the support of the chrysalis, an -appearance of emaciation at last points to the evil that is at their vitals. They -spin nevertheless. They are stoics who do not forget their duty in the hour of death. -At last, they expire, quite softly, not of any wounds, but of anæmia, even as a lamp -goes out when the oil comes to an end. And it has to be. The living caterpillar, capable -of feeding itself and forming blood, is a necessity for the welfare of the grubs; -it has to last about a <span class="pageNum" id="pb360">[<a href="#pb360">360</a>]</span>month, until the Microgaster’s offspring have achieved their full growth. The two -calendars synchronize in a remarkable way. When the caterpillar leaves off eating -and makes its preparations for the metamorphosis, the parasites are ripe for the exodus. -The bottle dries up when the drinkers cease to need it; but until that moment it must -remain more or less well-filled, although becoming limper daily. It is important, -therefore, that the caterpillar’s existence be not endangered by wounds which, even -though very tiny, would stop the working of the blood-fountains. With this intent, -the drainers of the bottle are, in a manner of speaking, muzzled; they have by way -of a mouth a pore that sucks without bruising. -</p> -<p>The dying caterpillar continues to lay the silk of his carpet with a slow oscillation -of the head. The moment now comes for the parasites to emerge. This happens in June -and generally at nightfall. A breach is made on the ventral surface or else in the -sides, never on the back: one breach only, contrived at a point of minor resistance, -at the junction of two segments; for it is bound to be a toilsome business, in the -absence of a set of filing-tools. <span class="pageNum" id="pb361">[<a href="#pb361">361</a>]</span>Perhaps the worms take one another’s places at the point attacked and come by turns -to work at it with a kiss. -</p> -<p>In one short spell, the whole tribe issues through this single opening and is soon -wriggling about, perched on the surface of the caterpillar. The lens cannot perceive -the hole, which closes on the instant. There is not even a hæmorrhage: the bottle -has been drained too thoroughly. You must press it between your fingers to squeeze -out a few drops of moisture and thus discover the spot of exit. -</p> -<p>Around the caterpillar, who is not always quite dead and who sometimes even goes on -weaving his carpet a moment longer, the vermin at once begin to work at their cocoons. -The straw-coloured thread, drawn from the silk-glands by a backward jerk of the head, -is first fixed to the white network of the caterpillar and then produces adjacent -warp-beams, so that, by mutual entanglements, the individual works are welded together -and form an agglomeration in which each of the worms has its own cabin. For the moment, -what is woven is not the real cocoon, but a general scaffolding which will facilitate -the construction <span class="pageNum" id="pb362">[<a href="#pb362">362</a>]</span>of the separate shells. All these frames rest upon those adjoining and, mixing up -their threads, become a common edifice wherein each grub contrives a shelter for itself. -Here at last the real cocoon is spun, a pretty little piece of closely-woven work. -</p> -<p>In my rearing-jars, I obtain as many groups of those tiny shells as my future experiments -can wish for. Three-fourths of the caterpillars have supplied me with them, so ruthless -has been the toll of the spring births. I lodge these groups, one by one, in separate -glass tubes, thus forming a collection on which I can draw at will, while, in view -of my experiments, I keep under observation the whole swarm produced by one caterpillar. -</p> -<p>The adult Microgaster appears a fortnight later, in the middle of June. There are -fifty in the first tube examined. The riotous multitude is in the full enjoyment of -the pairing-season, for the two sexes always figure among the guests of any one caterpillar. -What animation! What an orgy of love! The carnival of those pigmies bewilders the -observer and makes his head swim. -</p> -<p>Most of the females, wishful of liberty, plunge down to the waist between the glass -of <span class="pageNum" id="pb363">[<a href="#pb363">363</a>]</span>the tube and the plug of cotton-wool that closes the end turned to the light; but -the lower halves remain free and form a circular gallery in front of which the males -hustle one another, take one another’s places and hastily operate. Each bides his -turn, each attends to his little matters for a few moments and then makes way for -his rivals and goes off to start again elsewhere. The turbulent wedding lasts all -the morning and begins afresh next day, a mighty throng of couples embracing, separating -and embracing once more. -</p> -<p>There is every reason to believe that, in gardens, the mated ones, finding themselves -in isolated couples, would keep quieter. Here, in the tube, things degenerate into -a riot because the assembly is too numerous for the narrow space. -</p> -<p>What is lacking to complete its happiness? Apparently, a little food, a few sugary -mouthfuls extracted from the flowers. I serve up some provisions in the tubes: not -drops of honey, in which the puny creatures would get stuck, but little strips of -paper spread with that dainty. They come to them, take their stand on them and refresh -themselves. The fare appears to agree with them. With this <span class="pageNum" id="pb364">[<a href="#pb364">364</a>]</span>diet, renewed as the strips dry up, I can keep them in very good condition until the -end of my inquisition. -</p> -<p>There is another arrangement to be made. The colonists in my spare tubes are restless -and quick of flight; they will have to be transferred presently to sundry vessels -without my risking the loss of a good number, or even the whole lot, a loss which -my hands, my forceps and other means of coercion would be unable to prevent by checking -the nimble movements of the tiny prisoners. The irresistible attraction of the sunlight -comes to my aid. If I lay one of my tubes horizontally on the table, turning one end -towards the full light of a sunny window, the captives at once make for this brighter -end and play about there for a long while, without seeking to retreat. If I turn the -tube in the opposite direction, the crowd immediately shifts its quarters and collects -at the other end. The brilliant sunlight is its great joy. With this bait, I can send -it whithersoever I please. -</p> -<p>We will therefore place the new receptacle, jar or test-tube, on the table, pointing -the closed end towards the window. At its mouth, we open one of the full tubes. No -other <span class="pageNum" id="pb365">[<a href="#pb365">365</a>]</span>precaution is needed: even though the mouth leaves a large interval free, the swarm -hastens into the lighted chamber. All that remains to be done is to close the apparatus -before moving it. The observer is now in control of the multitude, without appreciable -losses, and is able to question it at will. -</p> -<p>We will begin by asking: -</p> -<p>“How do you manage to lodge your germs inside the caterpillar?” -</p> -<p>This question and others of the same category, which ought to take precedence of everything -else, are generally neglected by the impaler of insects, who cares more for the niceties -of nomenclature than for glorious realities. He classifies his subjects, dividing -them into regiments with barbarous labels, a work which seems to him the highest expression -of entomological science. Names, nothing but names: the rest hardly counts. The persecutor -of the Pieris used to be called Microgaster, that is to say, little belly: to-day -she is called Apantales, that is to say, the incomplete. What a fine step forward! -We now know all about it! -</p> -<p>Can our friend at least tell us how “the little belly” or “the incomplete” gets into -the <span class="pageNum" id="pb366">[<a href="#pb366">366</a>]</span>caterpillar? Not a bit of it! A book which, judging by its recent date, should be -the faithful echo of our actual knowledge, informs us that the Microgaster inserts -her eggs direct into the caterpillar’s body. It goes on to say that the parasitic -vermin inhabit the chrysalis, whence they make their way out by perforating the stout -horny wrapper. Hundreds of times have I witnessed the exodus of the grubs ripe for -weaving their cocoons; and the exit has always been made through the skin of the caterpillar -and never through the armour of the chrysalis. The fact that its mouth is a mere clinging -pore, deprived of any offensive weapon, would even lead me to believe that the grub -is incapable of perforating the chrysalid’s covering. -</p> -<p>This proved error makes me doubt the other proposition, though logical, after all, -and agreeing with the methods followed by a host of parasites. No matter: my faith -in what I read in print is of the slightest; I <span class="corr" id="xd31e3002" title="Source: perfer">prefer</span> to go straight to facts. Before making a statement of any kind, I want to see, what -I call seeing. It is a slower and more laborious process; but it is certainly much -safer. -</p> -<p>I will not undertake to lie in wait for what <span class="pageNum" id="pb367">[<a href="#pb367">367</a>]</span>takes place on the cabbages in the garden: that method is too uncertain and besides -does not lend itself to precise observation. As I have in hand the necessary materials, -to wit, my collection of tubes swarming with the parasites newly hatched into the -adult form, I will operate on the little table in my animals’ laboratory. A jar with -a capacity of about a litre<a class="noteRef" id="xd31e3009src" href="#xd31e3009">6</a> is placed on the table, with the bottom turned towards the window in the sun. I put -into it a cabbage-leaf covered with caterpillars, sometimes fully developed, sometimes -half-way, sometimes just out of the egg. A strip of honeyed paper will serve the Microgaster -as a dining-room, if the experiment is destined to take some time. Lastly, by the -method of transfer which I described above, I send the inmates of one of my tubes -into the apparatus. Once the jar is closed, there is nothing left to do but to let -things take their course and to keep an assiduous watch, for days and weeks, if need -be. Nothing worth remarking can escape me. -</p> -<p>The caterpillars graze placidly, heedless of their terrible attendants. If some giddy-pates -in the turbulent swarm pass over the caterpillars’ <span class="pageNum" id="pb368">[<a href="#pb368">368</a>]</span>spines, these draw up their fore-part with a jerk and as suddenly lower it again; -and that is all: the intruders forthwith decamp. Nor do the latter seem to contemplate -any harm: they refresh themselves on the honey-smeared strip, they come and go tumultuously. -Their short flights may land them, now in one place, now in another, on the browsing -herd, but they pay no attention to it. What we see is casual meetings, not deliberate -encounters. -</p> -<p>In vain I change the flock of caterpillars and vary their age; in vain I change the -squad of parasites: in vain I follow events in the jar for long hours, morning and -evening, both in a dim light and in the full glare of the sun: I succeed in seeing -nothing, absolutely nothing, on the parasite’s side, that resembles an attack. No -matter what the ill-informed authors say—ill-informed because they had not the patience -to see for themselves—the conclusion at which I arrive is positive: to inject the -germs, the Microgaster never attacks the caterpillars. -</p> -<p>The invasion, therefore, is necessarily effected through the Butterfly’s eggs themselves, -as experiment will prove. My broad <span class="pageNum" id="pb369">[<a href="#pb369">369</a>]</span>jar would tell against the inspection of the troop, kept at too great a distance by -the glass enclosure; and I therefore select a tube an inch wide. I place in this a -shred of cabbage-leaf, bearing a slab of eggs, as laid by the Butterfly. I next introduce -the inmates of one of my spare vessels. A strip of paper smeared with honey accompanies -the new arrivals. -</p> -<p>This happens early in July. Soon, the females are there, fussing about, sometimes -to the extent of blackening the whole slab of yellow eggs. They inspect the treasure, -flutter their wings and brush their hind-legs against each other, a sign of keen satisfaction. -They sound the heap, probe the interstices with their antennae and tap the individual -eggs with their palpi; then, this one here, that one there, they quickly apply the -tip of their abdomen to the egg selected. Each time, we see a slender, horny prickle -darting from the ventral surface, close to the end. This is the instrument that deposits -the germ under the film of the egg; it is the inoculation-needle. The operation is -performed calmly and methodically, even when several mothers are working at one and -the same time. Where one has been, a second goes, followed by a <span class="pageNum" id="pb370">[<a href="#pb370">370</a>]</span>third, a fourth and others yet, nor am I able definitely to see the end of the visits -paid to the same egg. Each time, the needle enters and inserts a germ. -</p> -<p>It is impossible, in such a crowd, for the eye to follow the successive mothers who -hasten to lay in each; but there is one quite practicable method by which we can estimate -the number of germs introduced into a single egg, which is, later, to open the ravaged -caterpillars and count the worms which they contain. A less repugnant means is to -number the little cocoons heaped up around each dead caterpillar. The total will tell -us how many germs were injected, some by the same mother returning several times to -the egg already treated, others by different mothers. Well, the number of these cocoons -varies greatly. Generally, it fluctuates in the neighbourhood of twenty, but I have -come across as many as sixty-five; and nothing tells me that this is the extreme limit. -What hideous industry for the extermination of a Butterfly’s progeny! -</p> -<p>I am fortunate at this moment in having a highly-cultured visitor, versed in the profundities -of philosophic thought. I make way <span class="pageNum" id="pb371">[<a href="#pb371">371</a>]</span>for him before the apparatus wherein the Microgaster is at work. For an hour and more, -standing lens in hand, he, in his turn, looks and sees what I have just seen; he watches -the layers who go from one egg to the other, make their choice, draw their slender -lancet and prick what the stream of passers-by, one after the other, have already -pricked. Thoughtful and a little uneasy, he puts down his lens at last. Never had -he been vouchsafed so clear a glimpse as here, in my finger-wide tube, of the masterly -brigandage that runs through all life down to that of the very smallest. -<span class="pageNum" id="pb373">[<a href="#pb373">373</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -<div class="footnotes"> -<hr class="fnsep"> -<div class="footnote-body"> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2832"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2832src">1</a></span> A species of Weevils found on thistle-heads.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2832src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2869"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2869src">2</a></span> .078 inch.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2869src" title="Return to note 2 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2914"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2914src">3</a></span> The author employs this word to denote the insects that are helpful, while describing -as “ravagers” the insects that are hurtful to the farmer’s crops.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2914src" title="Return to note 3 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2938"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2938src">4</a></span> This order includes the Ichneumon-flies, of whom the Microgaster is one.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2938src" title="Return to note 4 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e2944"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e2944src">5</a></span> .117 to .156 inch.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e2944src" title="Return to note 5 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -<div class="fndiv" id="xd31e3009"> -<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd31e3009src">6</a></span> About 1¾ pints, or .22 gallon.—<i>Translator’s Note.</i> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd31e3009src" title="Return to note 6 in text.">↑</a></p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="back"> -<div id="ix" class="div1 index"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#xd31e324">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h2 class="main">INDEX</h2> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">A</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Adder, <a href="#pb120" class="pageref">120</a> -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Anisotoma cinnamomea</i>, <a href="#pb307" class="pageref">307</a> -</p> -<p>Ant, <a href="#pb51" class="pageref">51</a><i>n</i>, <a href="#pb52" class="pageref">52</a>, <a href="#pb322" class="pageref">322</a> -</p> -<p id="ix.arbutus.caterpillar">Arbutus Caterpillar, <a href="#pb150" class="pageref">150</a>–160, <a href="#pb172" class="pageref">172</a>–173 -</p> -<p>Arbutus Liparis (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.arbutus.caterpillar">Arbutus Caterpillar</a>) -</p> -<p>Aristotle, <a href="#pb58" class="pageref">58</a> -</p> -<p id="ix.ass">Ass, <a href="#pb73" class="pageref">73</a>–74 -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Attacus pavonia minor</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.lesser.peacock.moth">Lesser Peacock Moth</a>) -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">B</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Bacon-beetle (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.dermestes">Dermestes</a>) -</p> -<p id="ix.banded.monk">Banded Monk, <a href="#pb278" class="pageref">278</a>–299, <a href="#pb326" class="pageref">326</a>–330 -</p> -<p>Bat, <a href="#pb248" class="pageref">248</a>, <a href="#pb301" class="pageref">301</a> -</p> -<p id="ix.bee">Bee, <a href="#pb51" class="pageref">51</a><i>n</i>, <a href="#pb147" class="pageref">147</a>–148, <a href="#pb162" class="pageref">162</a>, <a href="#pb183" class="pageref">183</a> -</p> -<p>Beetle (<i>see also</i> the varieties), <a href="#pb20" class="pageref">20</a> -</p> -<p>Bembex, <a href="#pb115" class="pageref">115</a> -</p> -<p>Blackbird, <a href="#pb151" class="pageref">151</a> -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Bolboceras gallicus</i>, <a href="#pb309" class="pageref">309</a>, <a href="#pb312" class="pageref">312</a>–319, <a href="#pb326" class="pageref">326</a> -</p> -<p>Bombyx (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.arbutus.caterpillar">Arbutus Caterpillar</a>, Banded Monk, Neustrian Bombyx, Pine Processionary) -</p> -<p id="ix.brown.owl">Brown Owl, <a href="#pb250" class="pageref">250</a> -</p> -<p>Brush Caterpillar (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.orgyia">Orgyia</a>) -</p> -<p>Bull-pup, <a href="#pb257" class="pageref">257</a> -</p> -<p>Buridan, Jean, <a href="#pb73" class="pageref">73</a> -</p> -<p>Burying-beetle (<i>see also</i> <a href="#ix.necrophorus">Necrophorus</a>), <a href="#pb319" class="pageref">319</a> -</p> -<p>Butterfly (<i>see also</i> the varieties), <a href="#pb182" class="pageref">182</a>, <a href="#pb227" class="pageref">227</a> -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">C</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p id="ix.cabbage-caterpillar" class="first">Cabbage-caterpillar, <a href="#pb172" class="pageref">172</a>, <a href="#pb334" class="pageref">334</a>–362, <a href="#pb365" class="pageref">365</a>–371 -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Calosoma sychophanta</i>, <a href="#pb94" class="pageref">94</a>, <a href="#pb168" class="pageref">168</a> -</p> -<p>Carrier-pigeon, <a href="#pb301" class="pageref">301</a> -</p> -<p>Carrion-beetle (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.silpha">Silpha</a>) -</p> -<p>Cat, <a href="#pb108" class="pageref">108</a> -</p> -<p>Century Co., <a href="#pb7" class="pageref">7</a> -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Cetonia floricola</i>, <a href="#pb182" class="pageref">182</a>–183 -</p> -<p id="ix.chalicodoma">Chalicodoma (<i>see also</i> <a href="#ix.mason-bee.of.the.sheds">Mason-bee of the Sheds</a>), <a href="#pb301" class="pageref">301</a> -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Chelonia caja</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.hedgehog.caterpillar">Hedgehog Caterpillar</a>) -</p> -<p>Cicada, <a href="#pb10" class="pageref">10</a>, <a href="#pb43" class="pageref">43</a> -</p> -<p>Cock, <a href="#pb108" class="pageref">108</a> -</p> -<p>Common Fly (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.fly">Fly</a>) -</p> -<p>Cricket, <a href="#pb43" class="pageref">43</a> -</p> -<p>Cuckoo, <a href="#pb94" class="pageref">94</a>, <a href="#pb168" class="pageref">168</a> -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">D</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Death’s-head Moth, <a href="#pb172" class="pageref">172</a> -</p> -<p id="ix.dermestes">Dermestes (<i>see also</i> the varieties below), <a href="#pb319" class="pageref">319</a>–325, <a href="#pb328" class="pageref">328</a> -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Dermestes Frischii</i>, <a href="#pb323" class="pageref">323</a> -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Dermestes pardalis</i>, <a href="#pb323" class="pageref">323</a> -<span class="pageNum" id="pb374">[<a href="#pb374">374</a>]</span></p> -<p><i lang="la">Dermestes undulatus</i>, <a href="#pb323" class="pageref">323</a> -</p> -<p>Dioscorides Pedanius, <a href="#pb148" class="pageref">148</a> -</p> -<p>Dog, <a href="#pb100" class="pageref">100</a>, <a href="#pb301" class="pageref">301</a>, <a href="#pb308" class="pageref">308</a>, <a href="#pb314" class="pageref">314</a>–315, <a href="#pb318" class="pageref">318</a>, <a href="#pb320" class="pageref">320</a>, <a href="#pb324" class="pageref">324</a>–327 -</p> -<p>Donkey (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.ass">Ass</a>) -</p> -<p>Dor-beetle (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.geotrupes">Geotrupes</a>) -</p> -<p>Dung-beetle (<i>see also</i> the varieties), <a href="#pb309" class="pageref">309</a> -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">E</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Earth-worm, <a href="#pb50" class="pageref">50</a> -</p> -<p>Earwig, <a href="#pb322" class="pageref">322</a> -</p> -<p>Eider, <a href="#pb212" class="pageref">212</a> -</p> -<p>Elm Tortoiseshell (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.great.tortoiseshell.butterfly">Great Tortoiseshell Butterfly</a>) -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">F</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Fabre, Paul, the author’s son, <a href="#pb21" class="pageref">21</a>, <a href="#pb136" class="pageref">136</a>–138, <a href="#pb247" class="pageref">247</a>–248, <a href="#pb275" class="pageref">275</a> -</p> -<p>Field-mouse, <a href="#pb301" class="pageref">301</a>, <a href="#pb320" class="pageref">320</a> -</p> -<p id="ix.fly">Fly, <a href="#pb195" class="pageref">195</a>, <a href="#pb324" class="pageref">324</a>, <a href="#pb355" class="pageref">355</a> -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">G</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p id="ix.geotrupes" class="first">Geotrupes, <a href="#pb107" class="pageref">107</a>, <a href="#pb310" class="pageref">310</a> -</p> -<p>Gnat, <a href="#pb355" class="pageref">355</a>–356 -</p> -<p>Goldfinch, <a href="#pb185" class="pageref">185</a> -</p> -<p>Grasshopper (<i>see also</i> <a href="#ix.vine.ephippiger">Vine Ephippiger</a>), <a href="#pb10" class="pageref">10</a><i>n</i> -</p> -<p id="ix.great.grey.locust">Great Grey Locust, <a href="#pb184" class="pageref">184</a> -</p> -<p>Great Peacock Moth, <a href="#pb41" class="pageref">41</a>–42, <a href="#pb172" class="pageref">172</a>, <a href="#pb181" class="pageref">181</a>–182, <a href="#pb226" class="pageref">226</a>, <a href="#pb246" class="pageref">246</a>–274, <a href="#pb277" class="pageref">277</a>, <a href="#pb280" class="pageref">280</a>, <a href="#pb282" class="pageref">282</a>–283, <a href="#pb285" class="pageref">285</a>, <a href="#pb287" class="pageref">287</a>–289, <a href="#pb298" class="pageref">298</a>, <a href="#pb326" class="pageref">326</a>–330 -</p> -<p id="ix.great.tortoiseshell.butterfly">Great Tortoiseshell Butterfly, <a href="#pb172" class="pageref">172</a>, <a href="#pb177" class="pageref">177</a>–181 -</p> -<p id="ix.green.saw-fly">Green Saw-fly, <a href="#pb183" class="pageref">183</a> -</p> -<p>Ground-beetle, <a href="#pb50" class="pageref">50</a> -</p> -<p>Guinea-fowl, <a href="#pb108" class="pageref">108</a> -</p> -<p>Guinea-pig, <a href="#pb180" class="pageref">180</a>–181 -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">H</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Heath Fritillary, <a href="#pb172" class="pageref">172</a> -</p> -<p>Hedgehog, <a href="#pb320" class="pageref">320</a> -</p> -<p id="ix.hedgehog.caterpillar">Hedgehog Caterpillar, <a href="#pb135" class="pageref">135</a>–136, <a href="#pb141" class="pageref">141</a>, <a href="#pb174" class="pageref">174</a> -</p> -<p>Hen, <a href="#pb108" class="pageref">108</a> -</p> -<p>Hive-bee, <a href="#pb52" class="pageref">52</a>–53 -</p> -<p>Honey-bee (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.bee">Bee</a>) -</p> -<p>Horse, <a href="#pb346" class="pageref">346</a>–348 -</p> -<p>Hunting Wasp (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.wasp">Wasp</a>) -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">I</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Ichneumon-fly, <a href="#pb51" class="pageref">51</a><i>n</i> -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">J</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Jay, <a href="#pb310" class="pageref">310</a> -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">L</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Large Cabbage Butterfly, Large White Butterfly (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.cabbage-caterpillar">Cabbage-Caterpillar</a>) -</p> -<p>Larinus, <a href="#pb338" class="pageref">338</a> -</p> -<p id="ix.lesser.peacock.moth">Lesser Peacock Moth, <a href="#pb273" class="pageref">273</a>–278 -</p> -<p>Liparis (<i>see also</i> <a href="#ix.arbutus.caterpillar">Arbutus Caterpillar</a>, <i lang="la">L. auriflua</i>), <a href="#pb173" class="pageref">173</a> -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Liparis auriflua</i>, <a href="#pb150" class="pageref">150</a> -</p> -<p>Livery (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.neustrian.bombyx">Neustrian Bombyx</a>) -</p> -<p>Lizard, <a href="#pb320" class="pageref">320</a> -</p> -<p>Locust (<i>see also</i> <a href="#ix.great.grey.locust">Great Grey Locust</a>), <a href="#pb43" class="pageref">43</a><i>n</i> -<span class="pageNum" id="pb375">[<a href="#pb375">375</a>]</span> </p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">M</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Magpie, <a href="#pb310" class="pageref">310</a> -</p> -<p>Mantis (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.praying.mantis">Praying Mantis</a>) -</p> -<p>Mare, <a href="#pb346" class="pageref">346</a> -</p> -<p id="ix.mason-bee.of.the.sheds">Mason-bee of the Sheds (<i>see also</i> <a href="#ix.chalicodoma">Chalicodoma</a>), <a href="#pb51" class="pageref">51</a>–53 -</p> -<p>Mason-wasp, <a href="#pb41" class="pageref">41</a><i>n</i> -</p> -<p>Miall, Bernard, <a href="#pb7" class="pageref">7</a>, <a href="#pb10" class="pageref">10</a><i>n</i> -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Microgaster glomeratus</i>, <a href="#pb353" class="pageref">353</a>–371 -</p> -<p>Midge, <a href="#pb355" class="pageref">355</a>–356 -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Minotaurus typhœus</i>, <a href="#pb311" class="pageref">311</a>–312 -</p> -<p>Mole, <a href="#pb318" class="pageref">318</a>, <a href="#pb320" class="pageref">320</a>, <a href="#pb324" class="pageref">324</a>–326 -</p> -<p>Molière, Jean Baptiste Poquelin, <a href="#pb147" class="pageref">147</a> -</p> -<p>Monk (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.banded.monk">Banded Monk</a>) -</p> -<p>Montaigne (Michel Eyquem de), <a href="#pb220" class="pageref">220</a> -</p> -<p>Moth (<i>see also</i> the varieties), <a href="#pb177" class="pageref">177</a>, <a href="#pb182" class="pageref">182</a>, <a href="#pb212" class="pageref">212</a> -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">N</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p id="ix.necrophorus" class="first"><i lang="la">Necrophorus</i> (<i>see also</i> <i lang="la"><a href="#ix.necrophorus.vestigator">N. vestigator</a></i>), <a href="#pb319" class="pageref">319</a>, <a href="#pb324" class="pageref">324</a>–326, <a href="#pb328" class="pageref">328</a> -</p> -<p id="ix.necrophorus.vestigator"><i lang="la">Necrophorus vestigator</i>, <a href="#pb324" class="pageref">324</a> -</p> -<p id="ix.neustrian.bombyx">Neustrian Bombyx, <a href="#pb21" class="pageref">21</a> -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">O</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Oak Bombyx, Oak Eggar (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.banded.monk">Banded Monk</a>) -</p> -<p id="ix.oak.processionary">Oak Processionary, <a href="#pb135" class="pageref">135</a>, <a href="#pb168" class="pageref">168</a>, <a href="#pb173" class="pageref">173</a> -</p> -<p id="ix.orgyia">Orgyia, <a href="#pb137" class="pageref">137</a>–139, <a href="#pb141" class="pageref">141</a> -</p> -<p>Owl (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.brown.owl">Brown Owl</a>) -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">P</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first"><i lang="fr">Patte étendue</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.orgyia">Orgyia</a>) -</p> -<p>Phidias, <a href="#pb18" class="pageref">18</a> -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Pieris brassicæ</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.cabbage-caterpillar">Cabbage-caterpillar</a>) -</p> -<p>Pig, <a href="#pb307" class="pageref">307</a> -</p> -<p>Pine Bombyx (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.pine.processionary">Pine Processionary</a>) -</p> -<p id="ix.pine.processionary">Pine Processionary, <a href="#pb1" class="pageref">1</a>–148, <a href="#pb150" class="pageref">150</a>, <a href="#pb157" class="pageref">157</a>, <a href="#pb159" class="pageref">159</a>, <a href="#pb161" class="pageref">161</a>–170, <a href="#pb173" class="pageref">173</a>–176, <a href="#pb179" class="pageref">179</a>, <a href="#pb181" class="pageref">181</a>–182, <a href="#pb184" class="pageref">184</a>, <a href="#pb300" class="pageref">300</a> -</p> -<p>Plato, <a href="#pb20" class="pageref">20</a>, <a href="#pb56" class="pageref">56</a> -</p> -<p>Pliny the Elder, <a href="#pb346" class="pageref">346</a>–347 -</p> -<p id="ix.praying.mantis">Praying Mantis, <a href="#pb43" class="pageref">43</a>, <a href="#pb285" class="pageref">285</a>–286 -</p> -<p>Processionary, Processionary Caterpillar, Processionary Moth (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.oak.processionary">Oak Processionary</a>, Pine Processionary) -</p> -<p>Psyche (<i>see also</i> the varieties below), <a href="#pb186" class="pageref">186</a>–244 -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Psyche comitella</i>, <a href="#pb194" class="pageref">194</a>–202, <a href="#pb214" class="pageref">214</a>–216 -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Psyche febretta</i>, <a href="#pb192" class="pageref">192</a>, <a href="#pb214" class="pageref">214</a> -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Psyche graminella</i> (<i>see</i> <i lang="la">P. unicolor</i>) -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Psyche intermediella</i> (<i>see</i> <i lang="la">P. comitella</i>) -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Psyche unicolor</i>, <a href="#pb186" class="pageref">186</a>–191, <a href="#pb204" class="pageref">204</a>–216 -</p> -<p>Puss-moth, <a href="#pb172" class="pageref">172</a> -</p> -<p>Pythagoras, <a href="#pb19" class="pageref">19</a> -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">R</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Rabbit, <a href="#pb212" class="pageref">212</a>, <a href="#pb279" class="pageref">279</a>, <a href="#pb310" class="pageref">310</a>. -</p> -<p>Rabelais, François, <a href="#pb58" class="pageref">58</a> -<span class="pageNum" id="pb376">[<a href="#pb376">376</a>]</span></p> -<p>Réaumur, René Antoine Ferchault de, <a href="#pb9" class="pageref">9</a>–10, <a href="#pb12" class="pageref">12</a>–15, <a href="#pb26" class="pageref">26</a>, <a href="#pb90" class="pageref">90</a>, <a href="#pb95" class="pageref">95</a>, <a href="#pb120" class="pageref">120</a>–132, <a href="#pb135" class="pageref">135</a> -</p> -<p>Rodwell, Miss Frances, <a href="#pb8" class="pageref">8</a> -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">S</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Saprinus (<i>see also</i> the varieties below), <a href="#pb320" class="pageref">320</a>–325, <a href="#pb328" class="pageref">328</a> -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Saprinus æneus</i>, <a href="#pb323" class="pageref">323</a> -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Saprinus detersus</i>, <a href="#pb323" class="pageref">323</a> -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Saprinus maculatus</i>, <a href="#pb323" class="pageref">323</a> -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Saprinus semipunctatus</i>, <a href="#pb323" class="pageref">323</a> -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Saprinus speculifer</i>, <a href="#pb323" class="pageref">323</a> -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Saprinus subnitidus</i>, <a href="#pb323" class="pageref">323</a> -</p> -<p>Sapromyzon, <a href="#pb307" class="pageref">307</a>–309 -</p> -<p>Saw-fly (<i>see also</i> <a href="#ix.green.saw-fly">Green Saw-fly</a>), <a href="#pb51" class="pageref">51</a><i>n</i> -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Scatophaga scybalaria</i>, <a href="#pb307" class="pageref">307</a> -</p> -<p>Silk-moth (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.silkworm">Silkworm</a>) -</p> -<p id="ix.silkworm">Silkworm, <a href="#pb125" class="pageref">125</a>, <a href="#pb170" class="pageref">170</a>–172, <a href="#pb175" class="pageref">175</a>–176, <a href="#pb181" class="pageref">181</a>–182, <a href="#pb264" class="pageref">264</a> -</p> -<p id="ix.silpha">Silpha (<i>see also</i> the varieties below), <a href="#pb319" class="pageref">319</a>, <a href="#pb324" class="pageref">324</a> -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Silpha obscura</i>, <a href="#pb324" class="pageref">324</a> -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Silpha rugosa</i>, <a href="#pb324" class="pageref">324</a> -</p> -<p><i lang="la">Silpha sinuata</i>, <a href="#pb324" class="pageref">324</a> -</p> -<p>Snail, <a href="#pb96" class="pageref">96</a> -</p> -<p>Spallanzani, Lazaro, <a href="#pb301" class="pageref">301</a> -</p> -<p>Spanish Copris, <a href="#pb309" class="pageref">309</a> -</p> -<p>Spider, <a href="#pb40" class="pageref">40</a> -</p> -<p>Spurge Hawk-moth, <a href="#pb172" class="pageref">172</a> -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">T</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first">Teixeira de Mattos, Alexander, <a href="#pb51" class="pageref">51</a><i>n</i>, <a href="#pb99" class="pageref">99</a><i>n</i>, <a href="#pb107" class="pageref">107</a><i>n</i>, <a href="#pb303" class="pageref">303</a><i>n</i> -</p> -<p id="ix.termite">Termite, <a href="#pb53" class="pageref">53</a> -</p> -<p>Tiger-moth, <a href="#pb172" class="pageref">172</a> -</p> -<p>Toad, <a href="#pb320" class="pageref">320</a> -</p> -<p>Tree-frog, <a href="#pb108" class="pageref">108</a> -</p> -<p>Turkey, <a href="#pb303" class="pageref">303</a> -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">V</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p class="first"><i lang="la">Vanessa polychloris</i> (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.great.tortoiseshell.butterfly">Great Tortoiseshell Butterfly</a>) -</p> -<p id="ix.vine.ephippiger">Vine Ephippiger, <a href="#pb184" class="pageref">184</a> -</p> -<p>Voltaire, François Marie Arouet de, <a href="#pb17" class="pageref">17</a> -</p> -</div> -</div> -<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pageNum">[<a href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> -<h3 class="main">W</h3> -</div> -<div class="divBody"> -<p id="ix.wasp" class="first">Wasp, <a href="#pb51" class="pageref">51</a><i>n</i>, <a href="#pb52" class="pageref">52</a>, <a href="#pb147" class="pageref">147</a>–148, <a href="#pb162" class="pageref">162</a>, <a href="#pb183" class="pageref">183</a> -</p> -<p>White Ant (<i>see</i> <a href="#ix.termite">Termite</a>) -</p> -<p>Wood-louse, <a href="#pb322" class="pageref">322</a> -</p> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -<div class="transcriberNote"> -<h2 class="main">Colophon</h2> -<h3 class="main">Availability</h3> -<p class="first">This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project -Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at <a class="seclink xd31e45" title="External link" href="https://www.gutenberg.org/" rel="home">www.gutenberg.org</a>. -</p> -<p>This eBook is produced by the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at <a class="seclink xd31e45" title="External link" href="https://www.pgdp.net/">www.pgdp.net</a>. -</p> -<h3 class="main">Metadata</h3> -<table class="colophonMetadata" summary="Metadata"> -<tr> -<td><b>Title:</b></td> -<td>The life of the caterpillar</td> -<td></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><b>Author:</b></td> -<td>Jean-Henri-Casimir Fabre (1823–1915)</td> -<td><a href="https://viaf.org/viaf/51689251/" class="seclink">Info</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><b>Translator:</b></td> -<td>Alexander Teixeira de Mattos (1865–1921)</td> -<td><a href="https://viaf.org/viaf/55502069/" class="seclink">Info</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><b>Language:</b></td> -<td>English</td> -<td></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td><b>Original publication date:</b></td> -<td>1916</td> -<td></td> -</tr> </table> -<h3 class="main">Revision History</h3> -<ul> -<li>2021-11-14 Started. </li> -</ul> -<h3 class="main">External References</h3> -<p>This Project Gutenberg eBook contains external references. These links may not work -for you.</p> -<h3 class="main">Corrections</h3> -<p>The following corrections have been applied to the text:</p> -<table class="correctionTable" summary="Overview of corrections applied to the text."> -<tr> -<th>Page</th> -<th>Source</th> -<th>Correction</th> -<th>Edit distance</th> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd31e604">39</a></td> -<td class="width40 bottom">hugh</td> -<td class="width40 bottom">huge</td> -<td class="bottom">1</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd31e784">67</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd31e1051">107</a></td> -<td class="width40 bottom"> -[<i>Not in source</i>] -</td> -<td class="width40 bottom">.</td> -<td class="bottom">1</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd31e1152">122</a></td> -<td class="width40 bottom">pretention</td> -<td class="width40 bottom">pretension</td> -<td class="bottom">1</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd31e1234">135</a></td> -<td class="width40 bottom">repunance</td> -<td class="width40 bottom">repugnance</td> -<td class="bottom">1</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd31e1291">142</a></td> -<td class="width40 bottom">inflamation</td> -<td class="width40 bottom">inflammation</td> -<td class="bottom">1</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd31e2006">243</a></td> -<td class="width40 bottom">Morerover</td> -<td class="width40 bottom">Moreover</td> -<td class="bottom">1</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd31e2743">331</a></td> -<td class="width40 bottom">infinitestimal</td> -<td class="width40 bottom">infinitesimal</td> -<td class="bottom">1</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd31e2754">332</a></td> -<td class="width40 bottom">closs-wrapped</td> -<td class="width40 bottom">close-wrapped</td> -<td class="bottom">1</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd31e3002">366</a></td> -<td class="width40 bottom">perfer</td> -<td class="width40 bottom">prefer</td> -<td class="bottom">2</td> -</tr> -</table> -</div> -</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIFE OF THE CATERPILLAR ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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