Araneidæ—True Spiders.

A little head and body small,

With slender feet and very tall,

Belly great, and from thence come all

The webs it spins.—

“Domitian sometime,” says Hollingshed incidentally in his Chronicles of England, “and an other prince yet living, delited so much to see the iollie combats betwixt a stout Flie and an old Spider.… Some parasites also in the time of the aforesaid emperour (when they were disposed to laugh at his follie, and yet would seem in appearance to gratifie his fantasticall head with some shew of dutiful demenour) could devise to set their lorde on worke, by letting a fresh flie privilie into his chamber, which he foorthwith would egerlie have hunted (all other businesse set apart) and never ceased till he had caught him in his fingers: whereupon arose the proverbe ‘ne musca quidem,’ altered first by Vitius Priscus, who being asked whether anie bodie was with Domitian, answered ‘ne musca quidem,’ whereby he noted his follie. There are some cockes combs here and there in England, learning it abroad as men transregionate, which make account also of this pastime, as of a notable matter, telling what a fight is seene betweene them, if either of them be lustie and couragious in his kind. One also hath mad a booke of the Spider and the Flie, wherein he dealeth so profoundlie, and beyond all measure of skill, that neither he himself that made it, neither anie one that readeth it can reach unto the meaning thereof.”[1126]

Chapelain, the author of Pucelle, was called by the academicians the Knight of the Order of the Spider, because he was so avaricious, that though he had an income of 13,000 livres, and more than 240,000 in ready money, he wore an old coat so patched, pieced, and threadbare, that the stitches exhibited no bad resemblance to the fibers produced by that insect. Being one day present at a large party given by the great Condé, a Spider of uncommon size fell from the ceiling upon the floor. The company thought it could not

have come from the roof, and all the ladies at once agreed that it must have proceeded from Chapelain’s wig;—the wig so celebrated by the well-known parody.[1127]

The often-told anecdote of the Scottish monarch, Robert Bruce, and the cottage Spider, is thus related in Chambers’ Miscellany: While wandering on the wild hills of Carrick, in order to escape the emissaries of Edward, Robert the Bruce on one occasion passed the night under the shelter of a poor deserted cottage. Throwing himself down on a heap of straw, he lay upon his back, with his hands placed under his head, unable to sleep, but gazing vacantly upward at the rafters of the hut, disfigured with cobwebs. From thoughts long and dreary about the hopelessness of the enterprise in which he was engaged, and the misfortunes he had already encountered, he was roused to take interest in the efforts of a poor industrious Spider, which had begun to ply its vocation with the first gray light of morning. The object of the animal was to swing itself, by its thread, from one rafter to another; but in the attempt it repeatedly failed, each time vibrating back to the point whence it had made the effort. Twelve times did the little creature try to reach the desired spot, and as many times was it unsuccessful. Not disheartened with its failure, it made the attempt once more, and, lo! the rafter was gained. “The thirteenth time,” said Bruce, springing to his feet; “I accept it as a lesson not to despond under difficulties, and shall once more venture my life in the struggle for the independence of my beloved country.” The result is well known.[1128]

It is related in the life of Mohammed, that when he and Abubeker were fleeing for their lives before the Coreishites, they hid themselves for three days in a cave, over the mouth of which a Spider spread its web, and a pigeon laid two eggs there, the sight of which made the pursuers not go in to search for them.[1129]

A similar story is told in the Lives of the Saints, of St. Felix of Nola: “But the Saint,” says Butler, “in the mean time had slept a little out of the way, and crept through a

hole in a ruinous old wall, which was instantly closed up by Spiders’ webs. His enemies, never imagining anything could have lately passed where they saw so close a Spider’s web, after a fruitless search elsewhere, returned in the evening without their prey. Felix finding among the ruins, between two houses, an old well half dry, hid himself in it for six months; and received during that time wherewithal to subsist by means of a devout Christian woman.”[1130]

It is said of Heliogabalus, that, for the purpose of estimating the magnitude of the City of Rome, he commanded a collection of Spiders to be made.[1131]

Illustrative of the singularly pleasurable effect of music upon Spiders, in the Historie de la Musique, et de ses Effets, we find the following relation:

“Monsieur de ——, captain of the Regiment of Navarre, was confined six months in prison for having spoken too freely of M. de Louvois, when he begged leave of the governor to grant him permission to send for his lute to soften his confinement. He was greatly astonished after four days to see at the time of his playing the mice come out of their holes, and the Spiders descend from their webs, who came and formed in a circle round him to hear him with attention. This at first so much surprised him, that he stood still without motion, when having ceased to play, all those Spiders retired quietly into their lodgings; such an assembly made the officer fall into reflections upon what the ancients had told of Orpheus, Arion, and Amphion. He assured me he remained six days without again playing, having with difficulty recovered from his astonishment, not to mention a natural aversion he had for this sort of insects, nevertheless he began afresh to give a concert to these animals, who seemed to come every day in greater numbers, as if they had invited others, so that in process of time he found a hundred of them about him. In order to rid himself of them he desired one of the jailors to give him a cat, which he sometimes shut up in a cage when he wished to have this company and let her loose when he had a mind to dismiss them, making it thus a kind of comedy that alleviated his imprisonment. I long doubted the truth of this story, but it was confirmed to me six months ago by M. P——, intendant

of the duchy of V——, a man of merit and probity, who played upon several instruments to the utmost excellence. He told me that being at ——, he went into his chamber to refresh himself after a walk, and took up a violin to amuse himself till supper time, setting a light upon the table before him; he had not played a quarter of an hour before he saw several spiders descend from the ceiling, who came and ranged themselves round about the table to hear him play, at which he was greatly surprised, but this did not interrupt him, being willing to see the end of so singular an occurrence. They remained on the table very attentively till somebody came to tell him that supper was ready, when having ceased to play, he told me these insects remounted to their webs, to which he would suffer no injury to be done. It was a diversion with which he often entertained himself out of curiosity.”[1132]

The Abbé Olivet has described an amusement of Pelisson during his confinement in the Bastile for refusing to betray to the government certain secrets intrusted to him by a friend who was a leading politician at the court of Louis XIV., which consisted in feeding a Spider, which he discovered forming its web across the only air-hole of his cell. For some time he placed his flies at the edge of the window, while a stupid Basque, his sole companion, played on a bagpipe. Little by little the Spider used itself to distinguish the sound of the instrument, and issued from its hole to run and catch its prey. Thus calling it always by the same sound, and placing the flies at a still greater distance, he succeeded, after several months, to drill the Spider by regular exercise, so that at length it never failed appearing at the first sound to seize on the fly provided for it, at the extremity of the cell, and even on the knees of the prisoner.[1133]

At a ladies’ school at Kensington, England, an immense species of Spider is said to be uncomfortably common; and that when the young ladies sing their accustomed hymn or psalm before morning and evening prayers, these Spiders make their appearance on the floor, or suspended overhead from their webs in the ceiling, obviously attracted by the “concord of sweet sounds.”[1134]

The following lines “to a Spider which inhabited a cell,” are from the Anthologia Borealis et Australis:

In this wild, groping, dark, and drearie cove,

Of wife, of children, and of health bereft,

I hailed thee, friendly Spider, who hadst wove

Thy mazy net on yonder mouldering raft:

Would that the cleanlie housemaid’s foot had left

Thee tarrying here, nor took thy life away;

For thou, from out this seare old ceiling’s cleft,

Came down each morn to hede my plaintive lay;

Joying like me to heare sweete musick play,

Wherewith I’d fein beguile the dull, dark, lingering day.[1135]

“When the great and brilliant Lauzun was held in captivity, his only joy and comfort was a friendly Spider: she came at his call; she took her food from his finger, and well understood his word of command. In vain did jailors and soldiers try to deceive his tiny companion; she would not obey their voices, and refused the tempting bait from their hand. Here, then, was not only an ear, but a keen power of distinction. The despised little animal listened with sweet affection, and knew how to discriminate between not unsimilar tones.”[1136]

Quatremer Disjonval, a Frenchman by birth, was an adjutant-general in Holland, and took an active part on the side of the Dutch patriots when they revolted against the Stadtholder. On the arrival of the Prussian army under the Duke of Brunswick, he was immediately taken, tried, and, having been condemned to twenty-five years’ imprisonment, was incarcerated in a dungeon at Utrecht, where he remained eight years. During this long confinement, by many curious observations upon his sole companions, Spiders, he discovered that they were in the highest degree

sensitive of approaching changes in the atmosphere, and that their retirement and reappearance, their weaving and general habits, were intimately connected with the changes of the weather. In the reading of these living barometers he became wonderfully accurate, so much so, that he could prognosticate the approach of severe weather from ten to fourteen days before it set in, which is proven by the following remarkable fact, which led to his release: “When the troops of the French republic overran Holland in the winter of 1794, and kept pushing forward over the ice, a sudden and unexpected thaw, in the early part of December, threatened the destruction of the whole army unless it was instantly withdrawn. The French generals were thinking seriously of accepting a sum offered by the Dutch, and withdrawing their troops, when Disjonval, who hoped that the success of the republican army might lead to his release, used every exertion, and at length succeeded in getting a letter conveyed to the French general in 1795, in which he pledged himself, from the peculiar actions of the Spiders, of whose movements he was enabled to judge with perfect accuracy, that within fourteen days there would commence a most severe frost, which would make the French masters of all the rivers, and afford them sufficient time to complete and make sure of the conquest they had commenced, before it should be followed by a thaw. The commander of the French forces believed his prognostication, and persevered. The cold weather, which Disjonval had predicted, made its appearance in twelve days, and with such intensity, that the ice over the rivers and canals became capable of bearing the heaviest artillery. On the 28th of January, 1795, the French army entered Utrecht in triumph; and Quatremer Disjonval, who had watched the habits of his Spiders with so much intelligence and success, was, as a reward for his ingenuity, released from prison.”[1137]

In Bartholomæus, De Proprietatibus Rerum (printed by Th. Berthelet, 27th Henry VIII.), lib. xviii. fol. 314, speaking of Pliny, we read: “Also he saythe, spynners (Spiders) ben tokens of divynation and of knowing what wether shal fal, for oft by weders that shal fal, some spin and weve

higher or lower. Also he saythe, that multytude of spynners is token of moche reyne.”[1138]

Willsford, in his Nature’s Secrets, p. 131, tells us: “Spiders creep out of their holes and narrow receptacles against wind or rain; Minerva having made them sensible of an approaching storm.”[1139]

Hone, in his Every Day Book, also mentions that from Spiders prognostications as to the weather may be drawn; and gives the following instructions to read this animal-barometer: “If the weather is likely to become rainy, windy, or in other respects disagreeable, they fix the terminating filaments, on which the whole web is suspended, unusually short; and in this state they await the influence of a temperature which is remarkably variable. On the contrary, if the terminating filaments are uncommonly long, we may, in proportion to their length, conclude that the weather will be serene, and continue so at least for ten or twelve days. But if the Spiders be totally indolent, rain generally succeeds; though, on the other hand, their activity during rain is the most certain proof that it will be only of short duration, and followed with fair and constant weather. According to further observations, the Spiders regularly make some alterations in their webs or nets every twenty-four hours; if these changes take place between the hours of six and seven in the evening, they indicate a clear and pleasant night.”[1140]

Pausanias tells us that after the slaughter at Chæronea, the Thebans were obliged to place a guard within the walls of their city; but which, however, after the death of Philip, and during the reign of Alexander, they drove out. For this action, this historian continues, it was that Divinity gave them tokens in the webs of Spiders of the destruction that awaited them. For, during the battle at Leuctra, the Spiders in the temple of Ceres Thesmophoros wove white

webs about the doors; but when Alexander and the Macedonians attacked their dominions, their webs were found to be black.[1141]

It was thought by the Classical Ancients and the old English unlucky to kill Spiders; and prognostications were made from their manner of weaving their webs.[1142] It is still thought unlucky to injure these animals.

Park has the following note in his copy of Bourne and Brande’s Popular Antiquities, p. 93: “Small Spiders, termed money-spinners, are held by many to prognosticate good luck, if they are not destroyed or injured, or removed from the person on whom they are first observed.”

In Teviotdale, Scotland, “when Spiders creep on one’s clothes, it is viewed as betokening good luck; and to destroy them is equivalent to throwing stones at one’s own head.”[1143]

In Maryland, this superstition is thus expressed: If you kill a Spider upon your clothing, you destroy the presents they are then weaving for you.

In the Secret Memoirs of Mr. Duncan Campbell, p. 60, in the chapter of omens, we read that “others have thought themselves secure of receiving money, if by chance a little Spider fell upon their clothes.”[1144]

“When a Spider is found upon your clothes, or about your person,” says a writer in the Notes and Queries,[1145] “it signifies that you will shortly receive some money. Old Fuller, who was a native of Northamptonshire, thus quaintly moralizes this superstition: ‘When a Spider is found upon your clothes, we used to say some money is coming toward us. The moral is this: such who imitate the industry of that contemptible creature may, by God’s blessing, weave themselves into wealth and procure a plentiful estate.’”[1146]

A South Northamptonshire superstition of the present day is, that, in order to propitiate money-spinners, they must be thrown over the left shoulder.[1147]

It is most probable that Euclio, in Plautus’ Aulularia,

would not suffer the Spiders to be molested because they were considered to bring good luck.

Staphyla. Here in our house there’s nothing else for thieves to gain, so filled is it with emptiness and cobwebs.

Euclio. You hag of hags, I choose those cobwebs to be watched for me.[1148]

A superstition prevails among us that if a Spider approaches, either by crawling toward or descending from the ceiling to a person, it forebodes good to such person; and, on the contrary, if the Spider runs hurriedly away, it is an omen of bad luck. But if the Spider be a poisonous one, or a Fly-catcher, and it approaches you, some evil is about to befall you, which to avert you must cross your heart thrice.

If you kill a Spider crossing your path, you will have bad luck.

A Spider should not be killed in your house, but out of doors; if in the house, our country people say you are “pulling down your house.”

If a Spider drops down from its web or from a tree directly in front of a person, such person will see before night a dear friend.

A variety of this superstition is, that, if the Spider be white, it foretells the acquaintance of a friend; and if black, an enemy.

In the Netherlands, a Spider seen in the morning forebodes good luck; in the afternoon, bad luck.[1149]

There is a common saying at Winchester, England, that no Spider will hang its web on the roof of Irish oak in the chapel or cloisters;[1150] and the cicerone, who shows the cathedral church at St. David’s, points out to the visitor that the choir is roofed with Irish oak, which does not harbor Spiders, though cobwebs are plentifully seen in other parts of the cathedral.[1151] This superstition (for it certainly is nothing more)[1152] probably originated with the old story of St. Patrick’s having exorcised and banished all kinds of vermin from Ireland.

The same virtue of repelling Spiders is attributed also to

chestnut and cedar wood;[1153] and the old roof at Turner’s Court, in Gloucestershire, four miles from Bath, which is of chestnut, is said to be perfectly free from cobwebs;[1154] hence also are the cloisters of New College, and of Christ’s Church, in England, roofed with chestnut.[1155]

A small Spider of a red color, called a Tainct in England, is accounted, by the country people, a deadly poison to cows and horses; so when any of their cattle die suddenly and swell up, to account for their deaths, they say they have “licked a Tainct.” Browne thinks this is, most probably, but a vulgar error.[1156]

It is a very ancient and curious belief that there exists a remarkable enmity between the Spider and serpents,[1157] and more especially between the Spider and the toad; and many curious stories are told of the combats between these animals. The following, related by Erasmus, which he asserts he had directly from one of the spectators, is probably the most remarkable, and we insert it in the words of Dr. James: “A person (a monk)[1158] lying along upon the floor of his chamber in the summer-time to sleep in a supine posture, when a toad, creeping out of some green rushes, brought just before in to adorn the chimney, gets upon his face and with his feet sits across his lips. To force off the toad, says the historian, would have been accounted death to the sleeper; and to leave her there, very cruel and dangerous; so that upon consultation, it was concluded to find out a Spider, which, together with her web and the window she was fastened to, was brought carefully, and so contrived as to be held perpendicularly to the man’s face; which was no sooner done but the Spider, discovering his enemy, let himself down and struck in his dart, afterward betaking himself up again to his web: the toad swelled, but as yet kept his station.

The second wound is given quickly after by the Spider, upon which he swells yet more, but remained alive still. The Spider, coming down again by his thread, gives the third blow, and the toad, taking off his feet from over the man’s mouth, fell off dead.”[1159]

The following cosmogony is found in the sacred writings of the Pundits of India: A certain immense Spider was the origin, the first cause of all things; which, drawing the matter from its own bowels, wove the web of this universe, and disposed it with wonderful art; she, in the mean time, sitting in the center of her work, feels and directs the motion of every part, till at length, when she has pleased herself sufficiently in ordering and contemplating this web, she draws all the threads she had spun out again into herself; and, having absorbed them, the universal nature of all creatures vanishes into nothing.[1160]

Among the Chululahs of our western coast, Capt. Stuart informs me there is a vague superstition that the Spider is connected with the origin of the world. To what extent this curious notion prevails, or anything more concerning it, I have been unable to learn.

The natives of Guinea, says Bosman, believe that the first men were created by the large black Spider, which is so common in their country, and called in their jargon “Ananse;” nor is there any reasoning, continues this traveler, a great number of them out of it.[1161] Barbot also remarks that, in the belief of the Guinea negroes, the black Ananse created the first man.[1162]

That the Spider should be connected with the origin of the world and man in the several beliefs of the Hindoos, Chululahs, and negroes, races so widely different and separated from one another, is a coincidence most remarkable.

A large and hideous species of Spider, said to be only found in the palace of Hampton Court, England, is known by the name of the “Cardinals.” This name has been given them from a superstitious belief that the spirits of Cardinal

Wolsey and his retinue still haunt the palace in their shape.[1163]

In running across the carpet in an evening, with the shade cast from their large bodies by the light of the lamp or candle, these “Cardinals” have been mistaken for mice, and have occasioned no little alarm to some of the more nervous inhabitants of the palace.[1164]

The story of the gigantic Spider found in the Church of St. Eustace, at Paris, in Chambers’ Miscellany, is related as follows: It is told that the sexton of this church was surprised at very often discovering a certain lamp extinguished in the morning, notwithstanding it had been duly replenished with oil the preceding evening. Curious to learn the cause of this mysterious circumstance, he kept watch several evenings, and was at last gratified by the discovery. During the night he observed a Spider, of enormous dimensions, come down the chain by which the lamp was suspended, drink up the oil, and, when gorged to satiety, slowly retrace its steps to a recess in the fretwork above. A similar Spider is said to have been found, in 1751, in the cathedral church of Milan. It was observed to feed also on oil. When killed, it weighed four pounds! and was afterward sent to the imperial museum at Vienna.[1165]

The following remarkable anecdote is translated from the French: “M. F—— de Saint Omer laid on the chimney-piece of his chamber, one evening on going to bed, a small shirt-pin of gold, the head of which represented a fly. Next day, M. F—— would have taken his pin from the place where he had put it, but the trinket had disappeared. A servant-maid, who had only been in M. F——’s service a few days, was solely suspected of having carried off the pin, and sent away. But, at length, M. F——’s sister, putting up some curtains, was very much surprised to find the lost pin suspended from the ceiling in a Spider’s web! And thus was the disappearance of the bijou explained: A Spider, deceived by the figure of the fly which the pin presented, had drawn it into his web.”[1166]

In the Treasvrie of Avncient and Moderne Times, it is

stated that “Spiders do shun all such wals as run to ruine, or are like to be ouerthrowne.”[1167]

A Spider hanging from a tree is said to have made both Turenne and Gustavus Adolphus shudder![1168]

M. Zimmerman relates the following instance of antipathy to Spiders: “Being one day in an English company,” says he, “consisting of persons of distinction, the conversation happened to fall on antipathies. The greater part of the company denied the reality of them, and treated them as old women’s tales; but I told them that antipathy was a real disease. Mr. William Matthew, son of the Governor of Barbados, was of my opinion, and, as he added that he himself had an extreme antipathy to Spiders, he was laughed at by the whole company. I showed them, however, that this was a real impression of his mind, resulting from a mechanical effect. Mr. John Murray, afterward Duke of Athol, took it into his head to make, in Mr. Matthew’s presence, a Spider of black wax, to try whether this antipathy would appear merely on the sight of the insect. He went out of the room, therefore, and returned with a bit of black wax in his hand, which he kept shut. Mr. Matthew, who in other respects was a sedate and amiable man, imagining that his friend really held a Spider, immediately drew his sword in a great fury, retired with precipitation to the wall, leaned against it, as if to run him through, and sent forth horrible cries. All the muscles of his face were swelled, his eye-balls rolled in their sockets, and his whole body was as stiff as a post. We immediately ran to him in great alarm, and took his sword from him, assuring him at the same time that Mr. Murray had nothing in his hand but a bit of wax, and that he himself might see it on the table where it was placed. He remained some time in this spasmodic state, and I was really afraid of the consequences. He, however, gradually recovered, and deplored the dreadful passion into which he had been thrown, and from which he still suffered. His pulse was exceedingly quick and full, and his whole body was covered with a cold sweat. After taking a sedative, he was restored to his former tranquillity, and his agitation was attended with no other bad consequences.”[1169]

In Batavia, New York, on the evening of the 13th of September, 1834, Hon. David E. Evans, agent of the Holland Land Company, discovered in his wine-cellar a live striped snake, about nine inches in length, suspended between two shelves, by the tail, by Spiders’ web. From the shelves being two feet apart, and the position of the web, the witnesses were of opinion the snake could not have fallen by accident into it, and thus have become inextricably entangled, but that it had been actually captured, and drawn up so that its head could not reach the shelf below by about an inch, by Spiders, and of a species much smaller than the common fly, three of which at night were seen feeding upon it, while it was yet alive.

Hon. S. Cummings, first Judge of the Court of Common Pleas in his county, and also Postmaster of Batavia, and Mr. D. Lyman Beecher have described this phenomenon, and given the names of quite a number of gentlemen who witnessed it, and will testify to the accuracy of their accounts. Says Mr. Cummings: “Upon a critical examination through a magnifying glass, the following curious facts appeared. The mouth of the snake was fast tied up, by a great number of threads, wound around it so tight that he could not run out his tongue. His tail was tied in a knot, so as to leave a small loop, or ring, through which the cord was fastened; and the end of the tail, above this loop, to the length of something over half an inch, was lashed fast to the cord, to keep it from slipping. As the snake hung, the length of the cord, from his tail to the focus to which it was fastened, was about six inches; and a little above the tail, there was observed a round ball, about the size of a pea. Upon inspection, this appeared to be a green fly, around which the cord had been wound as a windlass, with which the snake had been hauled up; and a great number of threads were fastened to the cord above, and to the rolling side of this ball to keep it from unwinding, and letting the snake down. The cord, therefore, must have been extended from the focus of this web to the shelf below where the snake was lying when first captured; and being made fast to the loop in his tail, the fly was carried and fastened about midway to the side of the cord. And then by rolling this fly over and over, it wound the cord around it, both from above and below, until the snake was raised to the proper height, and then was fastened, as before mentioned.

“In this situation the suffering snake hung, alive, and furnished a continued feast for several large Spiders, until Saturday forenoon, the 16th, when some persons, by playing with him, broke the web above the focus, so as to let part of his body rest upon the shelf below. In this situation he lingered, the Spiders taking no notice of him, until Thursday, eight days after he was discovered, when some large ants were found devouring his body.”[1170]

At a recent meeting of the Academy of Natural Sciences, Philadelphia, Mr. Lesley read the following extract from a letter written by Mr. E. A. Spring, of Eagleswood, N. J.:

“I was over on the South Amboy shore with a friend, walking in a swampy wood, where a dyke was made, some three feet wide, when we discovered in the middle of this ditch a large black Spider making very queer motions for a Spider, and, on examination, it proved that he had caught a fish.

“He was biting the fish, just on the forward side of the dorsal fin, with a deadly gripe, and the poor fish was swimming round and round slowly, or twisting its body as if in pain. The head of its black enemy was sometimes almost pulled under water, but never entirely, for the fish did not seem to have had enough strength, but moved its fins as if exhausted, and often rested. At last it swam under a floating leaf at the shore, and appeared to be trying, by going under that, to scrape off the Spider, but without effect. They then got close to the bank, when suddenly the long black legs of the Spider came up out of the water, where they had possibly been embracing a fish (I have seen Spiders seize flies with all their legs at once), reached out behind, and fastened upon the irregularities of the side of the ditch. The Spider then commenced tugging to get his prize up the bank. My friend stayed to watch them, while I went to the nearest house for a wide-mouthed bottle. During the six or eight minutes that I was away, the Spider had drawn the fish entirely out of the water, when they had both fallen in again, the bank being nearly perpendicular. There had been a great struggle; and now, on my return, the fish was already hoisted head first more than half his length out on the land. The fish was very much exhausted, hardly making any movement,

and the Spider had evidently gained the victory, and was slowly and steadily tugging him up. He had not once quitted his hold during the quarter to half an hour that we had watched them. He held, with his head toward the fish’s tail, and pulled him up at an angle of forty-five degrees by stepping backward.… The Spider was three-fourths of an inch long, and weighed fourteen grains; the fish was three and one-fourth inches long, and weighed sixty-six grains.”[1171]

The following interesting account of the rarely-witnessed phenomenon of a shower of webs of the Gossamer-spider, Aranea obtextrix, is given us by Mr. White: “On the 21st of September, 1741, being intent on field diversions, I rose,” says this gentleman, “before daybreak; when I came into the enclosures, I found the stubbles and clover grounds matted all over with a thick coat of cobweb, in the meshes of which a copious and heavy dew hung so plentifully, that the whole face of the country seemed, as it were, covered with two or three setting-nets, drawn one over another. When the dogs attempted to hunt, their eyes were so blinded and hood-winked that they could not proceed, but were obliged to lie down and scrape the incumbrances from their faces with their fore-feet.… As the morning advanced, the sun became bright and warm, and the day turned out one of the most lovely ones which no season but the autumn produces; cloudless, calm, serene, and worthy of the south of France itself.

“About nine an appearance very unusual began to demand our attention, a shower of cobwebs falling from very elevated regions, and continuing, without any interruption, till the close of the day. These webs were not single filmy threads, floating in the air in all directions, but perfect flakes of rags; some near an inch broad, and five or six long. On every side, as the observer turned his eyes, might he behold a continual succession of fresh flakes falling into his sight, and twinkling like stars.”[1172]

The Times of October 9th, 1826, records another shower of gossamer as follows: “On Sunday, Oct. 1st, 1826, a phenomenon of rare occurrence in the neighborhood of Liverpool was observed in that vicinage, and for many miles distant,

especially at Wigan. The fields and roads were covered with a light filmy substance, which, by many persons, was mistaken for cotton; although they might have been convinced of their error, as staple cotton does not exceed a few inches in length, while the filaments seen in such incredible quantities extended as many yards. In walking in the fields the shoes were completely covered with it, and its floating fibres came in contact with the face in all directions. Every tree, lamp-post, or other projecting body had arrested a portion of it. It profusely descended at Wigan like a sleet, and in such quantities as to affect the appearance of the atmosphere. On examination it was found to contain small flies, some of which were so diminutive as to require a magnifying glass to render them perceptible. The substance so abundant in quantity, was the gossamer of the garden, or field Spider, often met with in fine weather in the country, and of which, according to Buffon, it would take 663,552 Spiders to produce a single pound.”[1173]

“In the yeare that L. Paulus and C. Marcellus were Consuls,” says Pliny, “it rained wool about the castle Carissa, neare to which a yeare after, T. Annius Milo was slaine.”[1174] This rain of wool was doubtless a shower of gossamer.

It was an old and strange notion that the gossamer webs were composed of dew burned by the sun. Says Spenser:

More subtle web Arachne cannot spin;

Nor the fine nets, which oft we woven see,

Of scorched dew, do not in th’ ayre more lightly flee.[1175]

Thomson also:

How still the breeze! save what the filmy threads

Of dew evaporate brushes from the plain.[1176]

And Quarles:

And now autumnal dews were seen

To cobweb every green.[1177]

Likewise Blackmore:

How part is spun in silken threads, and clings,

Entangled in the grass, in gluey strings.[1178]

Henry More also mentions this old belief; but suspected, however, the true origin and use of the filmy threads:

As light and thin as cobwebs that do fly

In the blue air caused by th’ autumnal sun,

That boils the dew, that on the earth doth lie;

May seem this whitish rag then is the scum;

Unless that wiser men mak’t the field-spider’s loom.[1179]

Jamieson, in his Scottish Dictionary, gives sun-dew webs as a name given in the South of Scotland to the gossamer.

The Swedes call a cobweb dwaergsnaet, from dwaerg, a species of malevolent fairy or demon; very ingenious, and supposed often to assume the appearance of a Spider, and to form these nets. The peasants of that country say, Jorden naetjar sig, “the earth covers itself with a net,” when the whole surface of the ground is covered with gossamer, which, it is commonly believed, indicates the seedtime.[1180]

Voss, in a note on his Luise (iii. 17), says that the popular belief in Germany is, that the gossamers are woven by the Dwarfs. Keightley thinks the word gossamer is a corruption of gorse, or goss samyt, i.e. the samyt, or finely-woven silken web that lies on the gorse or furze.[1181]

A learned man and good natural philosopher, and one of the first Fellows of the Royal Society, Robert Hooke, the author of Micrographia, gravely remarked in his scientific disquisition on the gossamer, that it “was not unlikely, but those great white clouds, that appear all the summer time, may be of the same substance!!”[1182]

The following well-authenticated incident is told by Turner as having occurred when he was a young practitioner: A certain young woman was accustomed, when she went

into the vault after night, to go Spider-hunting, as she called it, setting fire to the webs of Spiders, and burning the insects with the flame of the candle. It happened at length, however, after this whimsey had been indulged a long time, one of the persecuted Spiders sold its life much dearer than those hundreds she had destroyed, and most effectually cured her of her idle cruel practice; for, in the words of Dr. James, “lighting upon the melted tallow of her candle, near the flame, and his legs becoming entangled therein, so that he could not extricate himself, the flame or heat coming on, he was made a sacrifice to his cruel persecutor, who, delighting her eyes with the spectacle, still waiting for the flame to take hold of him, he presently burst with a great crack, and threw his liquor, some into her eyes, but mostly upon her lips; by means of which, flinging away her candle, she cried out for help, as fancying herself killed already with the poison.” In the night the woman’s lips swelled excessively, and one of her eyes was much inflamed. Her gums and tongue were also affected, and a continual vomiting attended. For several days she suffered the greatest pain, but was finally cured by an old woman with a preparation of plantain leaves and cobwebs applied to the eyes, and taken inwardly two or three times a day.

Before this accident happened to her, this woman asserted that the smell of the Spiders burning oftentimes so affected her head, that objects about her seemed to turn round; she grew faint also with cold sweats, and sometimes a light vomiting followed, yet so great was her delight in tormenting these creatures, and driving them from their webs, that she could not forbear, till she met with the above narrated accident.[1183]

A similar story is related by Nic. Nicholas of a man he saw at his hotel in Florence, who, burning a large black Spider in the flame of a candle, and staying for some time in the same room, from the fumes arising, grew feeble, and fell into a fainting fit, suffering all night great palpitation at the heart, and afterward a pulse so very low as to be scarcely felt.[1184]

Several monks, in a monastery in Florence, are said to

have died from the effects of drinking wine from a vessel in which there was afterward found a drowned Spider.[1185]

There are two animals to which the Italians give the name Tarantula: the one is a species of Lizard, whose bite is reputed mortal, found about Fondi, Cajeta, and Capua; the other is a large Spider, found in the fields in several parts of Italy, and especially at Tarentum—hence the name. “Such as are stung by this creature (the Aranea Tarantula),” says Misson, “make a thousand different gestures in a moment; for they weep, dance, tremble, laugh, grow pale, cry, swoon away, and, after a few days of torment, expire, if they be not assisted in time. They find some relief by sweating and antidotes, but music is the great and specific remedy. A learned gentleman of unquestionable credit told me at Rome, that he had been twice a witness both of the disease and of the cure. They are both attended with circumstances that seem very strange; but the matter of fact is well attested, and undeniable.”[1186] Such is the story generally told, believed, and unquestioned, that has found its way into the works of many learned travelers and naturalists, but which is without the slightest shadow of truth.

“I think I could produce,” continues the deluded Misson, “natural and easy reasons to explain this effect of music; but without engaging myself in a dissertation that would carry me too far, I shall content myself with relating some other instances of the same kind: Every one knows the efficacy of David’s harp to restore Saul to the use of his reason. I remember Lewis Guyon, in his Lessons, has a story of a lady of his acquaintance, who lived one hundred and six years without ever using any other remedy than music; for which purpose she allowed a salary to a certain musician, whom she called her physician; and I might add that I was particularly acquainted with a gentleman, very much subject to the gout, who infallibly received ease, and sometimes was wholly freed from his pains by a loud noise. He used to make all his servants come into his chamber, and beat with all their force upon the table and floor; and the noise they made, in conjunction with the sound of the violin, was his sovereign remedy.”[1187]

In the Treasvrie of Avncient and Moderne Times, printed

in London, the year 1619, we find the following: “Alexander Alexandrinus proceedeth farther, affirming that he beheld one wounded by this Spider, to dance and leape about incessantly, and the Musitians (finding themselves wearied) gave over playing: whereupon, the poore offended dancer, hauing vtterly lost all his forces, fell downe on the ground, as if he had bene dead. The Musitians no sooner began to playe againe, but hee returned to himselfe, and mounting vp vpon his feet, danced againe as lustily as formerly hee had done, and so continued dancing still, til hee found the harme asswaged, and himselfe entirely recovered. Heereunto he addeth, that when it hath happened, that a man hath not beene thorowly cured by Musique in this manner; within some short while after, hearing the sound of Instruments, hee hath recouered footing againe, and bene enforced to hold on dancing, and never to ceasse, till his perfect and absolute healing, which (questionlesse) is admirable in nature.”[1188]

Robert Boyle, in his Usefulness of Natural Philosophy, among other stories of the power of music upon those bitten by Tarantulas, mentions the following: “Epiphanius Ferdinandus himself not only tells us of a man of 94 years of age, and weak, that he could not go, unless supported by his staff, who did, upon the hearing of musick after he was bitten, immediately fall a dancing and capering like a kid; and affirms that Tarantulas themselves may be brought to leap and dance at the sound of lutes, small drums, bagpipes, fiddles, etc.; but challenges those, that believe them not, to come and try, promising them an occular conviction: and adds what is very memorable and pleasant, that not only men, in whom much may be ascribed to fancy, but other animals being bitten, may likewise, by musick, be reduced to leap or dance: for he saith, he saw a Wasp, which being bitten by a Tarantula, whilst a lutanist chanced to be by; the musician, playing upon his instrument gave them the sport of seeing both the Wasp and Spider begin to dance: Annexing, that a bitten Cock did the like.”[1189]

In an Italian nobleman’s palace, Skippon saw a fellow who was bitten by a Tarantula; “he danced,” says this traveler, “very antickly, with naked swords, to a tune played

on an instrument.” The Italians say that if the Spider be immediately killed, no such effects will appear; but as long as it lives, the person bitten is subject to these paroxysms, and when it dies he is free. Skippon says that usually they are the poorer sort of people who say they are bitten, and they beg money while they are in these dancing fits.[1190]

Bell was informed at Buzabbatt (in Persia) that the celebrated Kashan Tarantula “neither stings nor bites, but drops its venom upon the skin, which is of such a nature that it immediately penetrates into the body, and causes dreadful symptoms; such as giddiness of the head, a violent pain in the stomach, and a lethargic stupefaction. The remedy is the application of the same animal when braised to the part affected, by which the poison is extracted. They also make the patient,” continues this traveler, “drink abundance of sweet milk, after which he is put in a kind of tray, suspended by ropes fixed in the four corners; it is turned round till the ropes are twisted hard together, and, when let go at once, the untwining causes the basket to run round with a quick motion, which forces the patient to vomit.”[1191]

Skippon was shown by Corvino, in his Museum at Rome, “a Tarantula Apula, which he kept some time alive; and the poison of it, he said, broke two glasses.”[1192]

In the Treasvrie of Avncient and Moderne Times, it is stated of “Harts, that when they are bitten or stung by a venomous kinde of Spiders, called phalanges; they heale themselves by eating Creuisses, though others do hold, that it is by an Hearb growing in the water.”[1193]

Diodorus Siculus tells as that there border upon the country of the Acridophagi a large tract of land, rich in fair pastures, but desert and uninhabited; not that there were never any people there, but that formerly, when it was inhabited, an immoderate rain fell, which bred a vast host of Spiders and Scorpions: that these implacable enemies of the country increased so, that though at first the whole nation attempted to destroy them (for he who was bitten or stung by them, immediately fell dead), so that, not knowing where to remain, or how to get food, they were forced to fly

to some other place for relief.[1194] Strabo has inserted also this miraculous story in his Geography.[1195]

Mr. Nichols mentions Spiders as having been embroidered on the white gowns of ladies in the time of Queen Elizabeth.[1196]

Sloane tells us the housekeepers of Jamaica keep large Spiders in their houses to kill cockroaches.[1197]

Captain Dampier, after minutely describing in his quaint way the “teeth” of a “sort of Spider, some near as big as a Man’s Fist,” which are found in the West Indies, says: “These Teeth we often preserve. Some wear them in their Tobacco-pouches to pick their Pipes. Others preserve them for tooth-pickers, especially such as are troubled with the toothache; for by report they will expell that Pain.”[1198] These teeth, which are of a finely polished substance, extremely hard, and of a bright shining black, are often, in the Bermudas, for these qualities set in silver or gold and used also for tooth-picks.[1199]

Dr. Sparrman says that Spiders form an article of the Bushman’s dainties;[1200] and Labillardiere tells us that the inhabitants of New Caledonia seek for and eat with avidity large quantities of a Spider nearly an inch long (which he calls Aranea edulis) and which they roast over the fire.[1201] Spiders are also eaten by the American Indians and Australians.[1202] Molien says: “The people of Maniana, south of Gambia and Senegal, are cannibals. They eat Spiders, Beetles, and old men.”[1203] In Siam, also, we learn from Turpin, the egg-bags of Spiders are considered a delicate food. The bags of certain poisonous species which make holes in the ground in the woods are preferred.[1204]

And Peter Martyr, in his History of the West Indies, makes the following statement: “The Chiribichenses (Caribbeans)

eate Spiders, Frogges, and whatsoever woormes, and lice also without loathing, although in other thinges they are so queasie stomaked, that if they see anything that doth not like them, they presently cast upp whatsoever is in their stomacke.”[1205]

Reaumur tells us of a young lady who when she walked in her grounds never saw a Spider that she did not take and eat upon the spot.[1206] Another female, the celebrated Anna Maria Schurman, used to crack them between her teeth like nuts, which she affirmed they much resembled in taste, excusing her propensity by saying that she was born under the sign Scorpio.[1207] “When Alexander reigned, it is reported that there was a very beautiful strumpet in Alexandria, that fed alwayes from her childhood on Spiders, and for that reason the king was admonished that he should be very carefull not to embrace her, lest he should be poysoned by venome that might evaporate from her by sweat. Albertus Magnus also makes mention of a certain noble mayd of Collen, that was fed with Spiders from her childhood. And we in England have a great lady yet living, who will not leave off eating of them. And Phaerus, a physician, did often eat them without any hurt at all.”[1208]

La Lande, the celebrated French astronomer, we are told by Disjonval, ate as delicacies Spiders and Caterpillars. He boasted of this as a philosophic trait of character, that he could raise himself above dislikes and prejudices; and, to cure Madame Lepaute of a very annoying fear of, and antipathy to Spiders, it is said he gradually habituated her to look upon them, to touch, and finally to swallow them as readily as he himself.[1209]

A German, immortalized by Rösel, used to eat Spiders by handfuls, and spread them upon his bread like butter, observing that he found them very useful, “um sich auszulaxiren.”[1210]

The satirist, Peter Pindar, records the same of Sir Joshua Banks:

How early Genius shows itself at times,

Thus Pope, the prince of poets, lisped in rhymes,

And our Sir Joshua Banks, most strange to utter,

To whom each cockroach-eater is a fool,

Did, when a very little boy at school,

Eat Spiders, spread upon his bread and butter.

Conradus, bishop of Constance, at the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper, drank off a Spider that had fallen into his cup of wine, while he was busied in the consecration of the elements; “yet did he not receive the least hurt or damage thereby.”[1211]

We learn from Poggio, the Florentine, that Zisca, the great and victorious reformer of Bohemia, was such an epicure, that he only asked for, as his share of the plunder, what he was pleased to call “the cobwebs, which hung from the roofs of the farmers’ houses.” It is said, however, that this was but one of his witty circumlocutions to express the hams, sausages, and pig-cheeks, for which Bohemia has always been celebrated.[1212]

For the bite of all Spiders, according to Pliny, the best remedies are “a cock’s brains, taken in oxycrate with a little pepper; five ants, swallowed in drink; sheep’s dung applied in vinegar; and Spiders of any kind, left to putrify in oil.”[1213] Another proper remedy, says this writer, is, “to present before the eyes of a person stung another Spider of the same description, a purpose for which they are preserved when found dead. Their husks also,” he continues, “found in a dry state, are beaten up and taken in drink for a similar purpose. The young of the weasel, too, are possessed of a similar property.”[1214]

Among the remedies given by Pliny for diseases of eyes, is mentioned “the cobweb of the common fly-Spider, that which lines its hole more particularly. This,” he continues, “applied to the forehead across the temples, in a compress of some kind or other, is said to be marvellously useful for the cure of defluxions of the eyes; the web must be taken, however, and applied by the hands of a boy who has not

arrived at the years of puberty; the boy, too, must not show himself to the patient for three days, and during those three days neither of them must touch the ground with his feet uncovered. The white Spider with very elongated, thin legs, beaten up in old oil, forms an ointment which is used for the cure of albugo. The Spider, too, whose web, of remarkable thickness, is generally found adhering to the rafters of houses, applied in a piece of cloth, is said to be curative of defluxions of the eyes.”[1215]

As a remedy for the ears, Pliny says: “The thick pulp of a Spider’s body, mixed with oil of roses, is used for the ears; or else the pulp applied by itself with saffron or in wool.”[1216]

For fractures of the cranium, Pliny says, cobwebs are applied, with oil and vinegar; the application never coming away till a cure has been effected. Cobwebs are good, too, he continues, for stopping the bleeding of wounds made in shaving.[1217] They are still used for this purpose, as also the fur from articles made of beaver.

In Ben Jonson’s Stable of News, Almanac says of old Penny boy (as a skit upon his penuriousness), that he

Sweeps down no cobwebs here,

But sells ’em for cut fingers; and the Spiders,

As creatures rear’d of dust, and cost him nothing,

To fat old ladies’ monkies.[1218]

And Shakspeare, in his Midsummer-Night’s Dream, makes Bottom say to the fairy Cobweb:

“I shall desire you of more acquaintance, good master Cobweb. If I cut my finger, I shall make bold with you.”[1219]

Pills formed of Spiders’ webs are still considered an infallible cure for the ague.[1220] Dr. Graham, in his Domestic Medicine, prescribes it for ague and intermittent fever. And Spiders themselves, with their legs pinched off, and then

powdered with flour, so as to resemble a pill, are also sometimes given for ague.[1221] Dr. Chapman, of Philadelphia, states that in doses of five grains of Spiders’ web, repeated every fourth or fifth hour, he has cured some obstinate intermittents, suspended the paroxysms of hectic, overcome morbid vigilance from excessive nervous mobility, and quieted irritation of the system from various causes, and not less as connected with protracted coughs and other chronic pectoral affections.[1222]

Mrs. Delany, in a letter dated March 1st, 1743–4, gives two infallible recipes for ague.

1st. Pounded ginger, made into paste with brandy, spread on sheep’s leather, and a plaister of it laid over the navel.

2d. A Spider put into a goose-quill, well sealed and secured, and hung about the child’s neck as low as the pit of its stomach.

Upon this Lady Llanover notes: “Although the prescription of the Spider in the quill will probably create amusement, considered as an old charm, yet there is no doubt of the medicinal virtues of Spiders and their webs, which have been long known to the Celtic inhabitants of Great Britain and Ireland.”[1223]

The above mentioned Dr. Graham states that he has known of a Spider having been sewed up in a rag and worn as a periapt round the neck to charm away the ague.[1224]

In the Netherlands, it is thought good for an ague, to inclose a Spider between the two halves of a nut-shell, and wear it about the neck.[1225]

“In the diary of Elias Ashmole, 11th April, 1681, is preserved the following curious incident: ‘I took early in the morning a good dose of elixir, and hung three Spiders about my neck, and they drove my ague away. Deo gratias!’ Ashmole was a judicial astrologer, and the patron of the renowned Mr. Lilly. Par nobile fratrum.”[1226]

“Among the approved Remedies of Sir Matthew Lister, I find,” says Dr. James, “that the distilled water of black

Spiders is an excellent cure for wounds, and that this was one of the choice secrets of Sir Walter Raleigh.…

“The Spider is said to avert the paroxisms of fevers, if it be applied to the pulse of the wrist, or the temples; but it is peculiarly recommended against a quartan, being enclosed in the shell of a hazlenut.…

“The Spider, which some call the catcher, or wolf, being beaten into a plaister, then sewed up in linen, and applied to the forehead and temples, prevents the return of the tertian.… There is another kind of Spider, which spins a white, fine, and thick web. One of this sort, wrapped in leather, and hung about the arm, will, it is said, avert the fit of a quartan. Boiled in oil of roses, and distilled into the ears, it eases (says Dioscorides, ii. 68) pains in those parts.…

“The country people have a tradition, that a small quantity of Spiders’ web, given about an hour before the fit of an ague, and repeated immediately before it, is effectual in curing that troublesome, and sometimes obstinate distemper.… The Indians about North Carolina have great dependence on this remedy for ague, to which they are much subject.”[1227]

“Of the cod or bags of Spiders, M. Bon caused a sort of drops to be made, in imitation of those of Goddard, because they contain a great quantity of volatile salt.”[1228]

Moufet, in Theatrum Insectorum, has the following: “Also that knotty whip of God, and mock of all physicians, the Gowt, which learned men say can be cured by no remedy, findes help and cure by a Spider layed on, if it be taken at that time when neither sun nor moon shine, and the hinder legs pulled off, and put into a deer’s skin and bound to the pained foot, and be left on it for some time. Also for the most part we finde those people to be free from the gowt of hands or feet (which few medicaments can doe), in whose houses the Spiders breed much, and doth beautifie them with her tapestry and hangings.… Our chirurgeons cure warts thus: They wrap a Spider’s ordinary web into the fashion of a ball, and laying it on the wart, they set it on fire, and so let it burn to ashes; by this means the wart is rooted out by the roots, and will never grow again.… I cannot but repeat a history that I formerly heard from

our dear friend worthy to be believed, Bruerus. A lustfull nephew of his, having spent his estate in rioting and brothel-houses, being ready to undertake anything for money, to the hazzard of his life; when he heard of a rich matron of London, that was troubled with a timpany, and was forsaken of all physicians as past cure, he counterfeited himself to be a physician in practice, giving forth that he would cure her and all diseases. But as the custom is, he must have half in hand, and the other half under her hand, to be payed when she was cured. Then he gave her a Spider to drink, as supposing her past cure, promising to make her well in three dayes, and so in a coach with four horses he presently hastes out of town, lest there being a rumor of the death of her (which he supposed to be very neer) he should be apprehended for killing her. But the woman shortly after by the force of the venome was cured, and the ignorant physician, who was the author of so great a work, was not known. After some moneths this good man returns, not knowing what had happened, and secretly enquiring concerning the state of that woman, he heard she was recovered. Then he began to boast openly, and to ask her how she had observed her diet, and he excused his long absence, by reason of the sickenesse of a principal friend, and that he was certain that no harm could proceed from so healthful physick; also he asked confidently for the rest of his reward, and to be given him freely.”[1229]

“A third kind of Spiders,” says Pliny, “also known as the ‘phalangium,’ is a Spider with a hairy body, and a head of enormous size. When opened, there are found in it two small worms, they say: these, attached in a piece of deer’s skin, before sunrise, to a woman’s body, will prevent conception, according to what Cæcilius, in his Commentaries, says. This property lasts, however, for a year only; and, indeed, it is the only one of all the anti-conceptives that I feel myself at liberty to mention, in favour of some women whose fecundity, quite teeming with children (plena liberis), stands in need of some such respite.”[1230]

Mr. John Aubrey, in the chapter of his Miscellanies devoted to Magick, gives the following: “To cure a Beast that is sprung, (that is) poisoned (It mostly lights upon Sheep):

Take the little red Spider, called a tentbob (not so big as a great pin’s-head), the first you light upon in the spring of the year, and rub it in the palm of your hand all to pieces: and having so done, make water on it, and rub it in, and let it dry; then come to the beast and make water in your hand, and throw it in his mouth. It cures in a matter of an hour’s time. This rubbing serves for a whole year, and it is no danger to the hand. The chiefest skill is to know whether the beast be poisoned or no.”[1231] Mr. Aubrey had this receipt from Mr. Pacy.

In the year 1709, M. Bon, of Montpellier, communicated to the Royal Academy of that city a discovery which he had made of a new kind of silk, from the very fine threads with which several species of Spiders (probably the Aranea diadema and others closely allied to it) inclose their eggs; which threads were found to be much stronger than those composing the Spider’s web. They were easily separated, carded, and spun, and then afforded a much finer thread than that of the silk-worm, but, according to Reaumur, inferior to this both in luster and strength. They were also found capable of receiving all the different dyes with equal facility. M. Bon carried his experiments so far as to obtain two or three pairs of stockings and gloves of this silk, which were of an elegant gray color, and were presented, as samples, to the Academy. As the Spiders also were much more prolific, and much more hardy than silk-worms, great expectations were formed of benefit of the discovery. Reaumur accordingly took up and prosecuted the inquiry with zeal. He computed that 663,522 Spiders would scarcely furnish a single pound of silk; and conceived that it would be impossible to provide the necessarily immense numbers with flies, their natural food. This obstacle, however, was soon removed, by his finding that they would subsist very well upon earth-worms chopped, and upon the soft ends or roots of feathers. But a new obstacle arose from their unsocial propensities, which proved insurmountable; for though at first they seemed to feed quietly, and even work together, several of them at the same web, yet they soon began to quarrel, and the strongest devoured the weakest, so that of several hundred, placed together in a box, but three or four remained alive after a few days; and nobody could propose to keep and feed each separately. The silk was found to be

naturally of different colors; particularly white, yellow, gray, sky-blue, and coffee-colored brown.[1232]

A Spider raiser in France, more recently, is said to have tamed eight hundred Spiders, which he kept in a single apartment for their silk.[1233]

De Azara states that in Paraguay a Spider forms a spherical cocoon for its eggs, an inch in diameter, of a yellow silk, which the inhabitants spin on account of the permanency of the color.[1234]

The ladies of Bermuda make use of the silk of the Silk-Spider, Epeira clavipes, for sewing purposes.[1235]

The Spider-web fabric has been carried so nearly to transparency (in Hindostan) that the Emperor Aurengzebe is said to have reproved his daughter for the indelicacy of her costume, while she wore as many as seven thicknesses of it.[1236]

Astronomers employ the strongest thread of Spiders, the one, namely, that supports the web, for the divisions of the micrometer. By its ductility this thread acquires about a fifth of its ordinary length.[1237]

Topsel, in his History of Four-footed Beasts and Serpents, has the following, which he calls an “old and common verse:

Nos aper auditu præcellit, Aranea tactu, Vultur odoratu, lynx visu, simia gustu.

Which may be Englished thus:

To hear, the boar, to touch, the Spider us excells,

The lynx to see, the ape to taste, the vulture for the smells.”[1238]

“It is manifest,” says Moufet, “that Spiders are bred of some aereall seeds putrefied, from filth and corruption, because that the newest houses the first day they are whited will have both Spiders and cobwebs in them.”[1239] This theory of generation from putrefaction was a favorite one among the ancient writers; see the history of the Scorpion.