The origin of the garment of which we have just stripped it would be unmentionable, save in the world of the insect, that manufacturer devoid of shame. This doublet is, in fact, obtained from the creature's excretions. Instead of evacuating downwards, on the superannuated principle, the Crioceris' larva evacuates upwards and receives upon its back the waste products of the intestine, materials which move from back to front as each fresh pat is dabbed upon the others. Réaumur has complacently described how the quilt moves forward from the tail to the head by wriggling along inclined planes, making so many dips in the undulating back. There is no need to return to this stercoral mechanism after the master has done with it.
We now know the reasons that procured the Lily-beetle an ignominious title, confined to the official records: the grub makes itself an overcoat of its excrements.
Once the garment is completed so as to cover the whole of the creature's dorsal surface, the clothing-factory does not cease work on that score. At the back a fresh hem is added from moment to moment; but the overlapping superfluity in front drops off of its own weight at the same time. The coat of dung is under continual repair, being renovated and lengthened at one end as it wears and grows shorter at the other.
Sometimes also the stuff is too thick and the heap capsizes. The denuded grub recks nothing of the lost overcoat; its obliging intestine repairs the disaster without delay.
Whether by reason of the clipping that results from the excessive length of a piece which is always on the loom, or of accidents that cause a part or the whole of the load to fall off, the grub of the Crioceris leaves accumulations of dirt in its track, till the lily, the symbol of purity, becomes a very cess-pool. When the leaves have been browsed, the stem next loses its cuticle, thanks to the nibbling of the grub, and is reduced to a ragged distaff. The flowers even, which have opened by now, are not spared: their beautiful ivory chalices are changed into latrines.
The perpetrator of the misdeed embarks on his career of defilement early. I wanted to see him start, to watch him lay the first course of his excremental masonry. Does he serve an apprenticeship? Does he work badly at first, then a little better and then well? I now know all about it: there is no noviciate, there are no clumsy attempts; the workmanship is perfect from the outset, the product ejected spreads over the hinder part. Let me tell you what I saw.
The eggs are laid in May, on the under surface of the leaves, in short trails averaging from three to six. They are cylindrical, rounded at both ends, of a bright orange-red, glossy and varnished with a glutinous wash which makes them stick to the leaves throughout their length. The hatching takes ten days. The shell of the egg, now a little wrinkled, but still of a bright orange colour, retains its position, so that the group of eggs, apart from its slightly withered appearance, remains just as it was.
The young larva measures a millimetre and a half2 in length. The head and legs are black, the rest of the body a dull amber-red. On the first segment of the thorax is a brown sash, interrupted in the middle; lastly, there is a small black speck on each side, behind the third segment. This is the initial costume. Presently orange-red will take the place of the pale amber. The tiny creature, which is exceedingly fat, sticks to the leaf with its short legs and also with its hind-quarters, which act as a lever and push the round belly forwards. The motion reminds you of a cripple sitting in a bowl.
2 .959 inch.—Translator's Note.
The grubs emerging from any one group of eggs at once begin to browse, each beside the empty skin of its egg. Here, singly, they nibble and dig themselves a little pit in the thickness of the leaf, while sparing the cuticle of the opposite surface. This leaves a translucent floor, a support which enables them to consume the walls of the excavation without risking a fall.