A few years ago, the Wood White,—Leucophasia sinapis,—in June could be found there in abundance. Now the species is rarely seen, but, being a denizen of the interior of the woods, and the woods all about there being strictly tabooed, the collector has not the opportunity to get them he formerly had.
The Green-veined White,—Pieris napi,—the pretty little Orange Tip,—Anthocharis cardamines,—and the Brimstone Butterfly,—Gonepteryx rhamni,—are common in that locality; but for the Clouded Yellows,—genus, Colias,—Brighton must be closer approached in the clover fields, about August. They are of a rich golden colour, banded with black; and there is a variety called Helice, which are considered a prize to any entomologist. The great prize, the Queen of Spain,—Argynnis lathonia,—has been taken in a garden at Kemp Town; but like “Angels’ visits,” they are very “few and far between.” The gorgeous Large Copper,—Polyommatus hippothoe,—whose wings, edged with black, shine like burnished gold, and cast into shade any colour which the device of man can create,—was once plentiful in two counties of England, Cambridgeshire and Huntingdonshire; but it is now considered by our best entomologists extinct in this country.
The Purple Emperor,—Apatura iris,—may be seen in all his glory on a hot Summer’s day, the first week in August, in the above locality, soaring round the high oaks, in all imaginable grandeur. He is rightly termed Emperor, as no other butterfly dares to invade his imperial aerial realms. His magnificent purple wings defy the highest skill of the artist to imitate. These simple, beautiful butterflies whisper in reason’s ear, truths, which, alas! humble the pride of man. There is the Painted Lady,—Vanessa Cardui,—but she will not do for the present fashionable generation, as she does not wear crinoline, and her food is of the most vulgar description,—the common thistle, from which she derives her specific name.
The family of the Argus Butterflies,—the Hair Streaks,—genus Thecla,—are of five distinct species, three of which are obtained near Brighton. Their haunts are likewise amongst the large oak trees, where they play and gambol in the hot sunshine, the live-long day. The last family of the butterflies are the Skippers,—in science, Hesperidæ,—or, to use the generic name for this family—Hesperia. The first is the Grizzle—Syrichthus elveolus, whose specific name means chequered, the spots on the wings of the Imago, being somewhat like a chessboard, the fore wings being black, interspersed with about fifteen or sixteen squarish white spots. The next is the Dingy Skipper—Hesperia paniscus,—and then the Large Skipper—Hesperia Sylvanus,—from “Sylvan,”—being found in the woods. The Pearl Skipper—Hesperia Comma,—takes its name from a mark on the fore wings, and is found in low swampy situations, and in almost every locality for Butterflies. Then, there are the Small Skipper—Hesperia Linia,—and the Lulworth Skipper—Hesperia Acteon. The latter derives its English name from the only place where it has been found, viz., near Lulworth Cove, on the Dorsetshire Coast; and it receives its Latin name, Acteon, from his being a great hunter.
This ends the list of the British Butterflies in the vicinity of Brighton, with the exception of that which was taken by one of the most honest and persevering collectors, in August, 1860, near Kemp Town. No one doubts of its being taken there, as several entomologists of the highest respectability, saw it on the spot alive, immediately after it was taken; but a very small clique of savans will not allow it to be put on the list as a new British Butterfly, because they have a theoretic fancy that it might be blown over from the coast of France, a distance of nearly a hundred miles, across the English Channel. The idea, however, is absurd. A little delicate butterfly, with all the appearance of having just emerged from the chrysalis, to be blown that distance without apparently ruffling a feather, is out of all character. If it had been a new bird that had been obtained on our shores, the ornithologists would have been only too happy to have had the opportunity of adding it to their list, as a new British species.
Mr. Edward Newman, of Bishopsgate Street, the great naturalist, and prince of writers, and publisher of works on Natural History, has stood sponsor to this new British Butterfly, and named it—The Brighton Argos—Lycaena Bœtica.
Bewick has expressed the wish that mankind could be prevailed upon to read a few lessons from the great book of Nature, to see the wonders which the Universe presents, and to reflect on the wisdom, the power, and the goodness of the Great Creator that planned and formed the whole.
How necessary is it, then, that we should direct our attention to the sowing of the seeds of knowledge in the minds of youth. The great work of forming the man cannot be begun too early; and agreeably with this sentiment, how many writers are there who spend their lives in contributing in various ways to turn the streams of instruction through their proper channel into this most improvable soil,—taking children by the hand, and directing their steps like guardian angels, in the outset of life, to prevent their floundering on in ignorance to the end. In these undertakings the instructors of youth are often assisted by the fertile genius of the artists, who supply their works with such embellishments as serve to relieve the lengthened sameness of the way. Among the many approved branches of instruction, the study of Natural History holds a distinguished rank. To enlarge upon the advantages which are desirable from a knowledge of the Creation, is surely not necessary. To become initiated into this knowledge is to become enamoured of its charms; to attain the object in view requires but little previous study or labour; the road which leads to it soon becomes strewed with flowers, and ceases to fatigue; a flow is given to the imagination which banishes early prejudices and expands the ideas, and an endless fund of the most rational entertainment is spread out, that captivates the attention and exalts the mind. For the attainment of this science in any of its various departments, the foundation may be laid, insensibly, in youth, whereon a goodly superstructure of useful knowledge can easily be raised at a more advanced period. In whatever way, indeed, the varied objects of this beautiful world are viewed, they are readily understood by the contemplative mind, for they are found alike to be the visible works of God. The great book of Nature is amply spread out before mankind, and could they but see how clearly the hand of Providence is in every page, they would consider the faculty of reason as the distinguishing gift to the human race, and use it as the guide of their lives. They would find their reward in a cheerful resignation of mind, in peace and happiness, under the conscious persuasion that “a good naturalist cannot be a bad man.”
Chapter XXI.
THE WILD FLOWERS AND MOSSES ABOUT BRIGHTON.
To an unobservant eye the vicinity of Brighton possesses no wild vegetable productions worthy of notice, and, apart from the cultivated fields, all else appears a barren waste, save and except the short sweet verdure whereon our favourite South-Down flocks luxuriate. Upon peering, however, into the hedgerows, and the waysides and the furrows, a volume is opened to the student of Botany, and there is that whereon he may sumptuously feast. Fifty years since, the observation that “Brighton was a place without trees,” was a truism; but since then, irrespective of the success in planting the Squares, Enclosures, Steines, and the ornamental gardens of private residences in the town, where formerly, only hardy tamarisk grew, belts and copses of thriving trees have reared their towering heads, and the elm, fir, sycamore, horse-chesnut, larch, beech, hazel, birch, hawthorn, and the holly and other evergreens, having, by culture, become acclimatised, thrive so well as to induce the belief that they are indigenous to the South East Coast.