There is another class also of these insects produced in quite a different manner. These last spring from a grub of larger size, with two horns of very peculiar appearance. The larva then becomes a caterpillar, after which it assumes the state in which it is known as bombylis, then that called necydalus, and after that, in six months, it becomes a silk-worm.[85] These insects weave webs similar to those of the spider, the material of which is used for making the more costly and luxurious garments of females, known as “bombycina.” Pamphile, a woman of Cos,[86] the daughter of Platea, was the first[87] person who discovered the art of unravelling these webs and spinning a tissue therefrom; indeed, she ought not to be deprived of the glory of having discovered the art of making vestments which, while they cover a woman, at the same moment reveal her naked charms.
CHAP. 27. (23.)—THE SILK-WORM OF COS—HOW THE COAN VESTMENTS ARE MADE.
The silk-worm, too, is said to be a native of the isle of Cos, where the vapours of the earth give new life to the flowers of the cypress, the terebinth, the ash, and the oak which have been beaten down by the showers. At first they assume the appearance of small butterflies with naked bodies, but soon after, being unable to endure the cold, they throw out bristly hairs, and assume quite a thick coat against the winter, by rubbing off the down that covers the leaves, by the aid of the roughness of their feet. This they compress into balls by carding it with their claws, and then draw it out and hang it between the branches of the trees, making it fine by combing it out as it were: last of all, they take and roll it round their body, thus forming a nest in which they are enveloped. It is in this state that they are taken; after which they are placed in earthen vessels in a warm place, and fed upon bran. A peculiar sort of down soon shoots forth upon the body, on being clothed with which they are sent to work upon another task. The cocoons[88] which they have begun to form are rendered soft and pliable by the aid of water, and are then drawn out into threads by means of a spindle made of a reed. Nor, in fact, have the men even felt ashamed to make use[89] of garments formed of this material, in consequence of their extreme lightness in summer: for, so greatly have manners degenerated in our day, that, so far from wearing a cuirass, a garment even is found to be too heavy. The produce of the Assyrian silk-worm, however, we have till now left to the women only.
CHAP. 28. (24.)—SPIDERS; THE KINDS THAT MAKE WEBS; THE MATERIALS USED BY THEM IN SO DOING.
It is by no means an absurdity to append to the silk-worm an account of the spider, a creature which is worthy of our especial admiration. There are numerous kinds of spiders, however, which it will not be necessary here to mention, from the fact of their being so well known. Those that bear the name of phalangium are of small size, with bodies spotted and running to a point; their bite is venomous, and they leap as they move from place to place. Another kind, again, is black, and the fore-legs are remarkable for their length. They have all of them three joints in the legs. The smaller kind of wolf-spider[90] does not make a web, but the larger ones make their holes in the earth, and spread their nets at the narrow entrance thereof. A third kind, again, is remarkable for the skill which it displays in its operations. These spin a large web, and the abdomen suffices to supply the material for so extensive a work, whether it is that, at stated periods the excrements are largely secreted in the abdomen, as Democritus thinks, or that the creature has in itself a certain faculty of secreting[91] a peculiar sort of woolly substance. How steadily does it work with its claws, how beautifully rounded and how equal are the threads as it forms its web, while it employs the weight of its body as an equipoise! It begins at the middle to weave its web, and then extends it by adding the threads in rings around, like a warp upon the woof: forming the meshes at equal intervals, but continually enlarging them as the web increases in breadth, it finally unites them all by an indissoluble knot. With what wondrous art does it conceal the snares that lie in wait for its prey in its checkered nettings! How little, too, would it seem that there is any such trap laid in the compactness of its web and the tenacious texture of the woof, which would appear of itself to be finished and arranged by the exercise of the very highest art! How loose, too, is the body of the web as it yields to the blasts, and how readily does it catch all objects which come in its way! You would fancy that it had left, quite exhausted, the thrums of the upper portion of its net unfinished where they are spread across; it is with the greatest difficulty that they are to be perceived, and yet the moment that an object touches them, like the lines of the hunter’s net, they throw it into the body of the web. With what architectural skill, too, is its hole arched over, and how well defended by a nap of extra thickness against the cold! How carefully, too, it retires into a corner, and appears intent upon anything but what it really is, all the while that it is so carefully shut up from view, that it is impossible to perceive whether there is anything within or not! And then too, how extraordinary the strength of the web! When is the wind ever known to break it, or what accumulation of dust is able to weigh it down?
The spider often spreads its web right across between two trees, when plying its art and learning how to spin; and then, as to its length, the thread extends from the very top of the tree to the ground, while the insect springs up again in an instant from the earth, and travels aloft by the very self-same thread, thus mounting at the same moment and spinning its threads. When its prey falls into its net, how on the alert it is, and with what readiness it runs to seize it! Even though it should be adhering to the very edge of its web, the insect always runs instantly to the middle, as it is by these means that it can most effectually shake the web, and so successfully entangle its prey. When the web is torn, the spider immediately sets about repairing it, and that so neatly, that nothing like patching can ever be seen. The spider lies in wait even for the young of the lizard, and after enveloping the head of the animal, bites its lips; a sight by no means unworthy of the amphitheatre itself, when it is one’s good fortune to witness it. Presages also are drawn from the spider; for when a river is about to swell, it will suspend its web higher than usual. In calm weather these insects do not spin, but when it is cloudy they do, and hence it is, that a great number of cobwebs is a sure sign of showery weather. It is generally supposed that it is the female spider that spins, and the male that lies in wait for prey, thus making an equal division of their duties.
CHAP. 29.—THE GENERATION OF SPIDERS.
Spiders couple[92] backwards, and produce maggots like eggs; for I ought not to defer making some mention of this subject, seeing, in fact, that of most insects there is hardly anything else to be said. All these eggs they lay in their webs, but scattered about, as they leap from place to place while laying them. The phalangium is the only spider that lays a considerable number of them, in a hole; and as soon as ever the progeny is hatched it devours its mother, and very often the male parent as well, for that, too, aids in the process of incubation. These last produce as many as three hundred eggs, the others a smaller number. Spiders take three days to hatch their eggs. They come to their full growth in twenty-eight days.
CHAP. 30. (25.)—SCORPIONS.
In a similar manner to the spider, the land scorpion also produces maggots[93] similar to eggs, and dies in a similar manner. This animal is a dangerous scourge, and has a venom like that of the serpent; with the exception that its effects are far more[94] painful, as the person who is stung will linger for three days before death ensues. The sting is invariably fatal to virgins, and nearly always so to matrons. It is so to men also, in the morning, when the animal has issued from its hole in a fasting state, and has not yet happened to discharge its poison by any accidental stroke. The tail is always ready to strike, and ceases not for an instant to menace, so that no opportunity may possibly be missed. The animal strikes too with a sidelong blow, or else by turning the tail upwards. Apollodorus informs us, that the poison which they secrete is of a white colour, and he has divided them into nine classes, distinguished mostly by their colours—to very little purpose, however, for it is impossible to understand which among these it is that he has pronounced to be the least dangerous. He says, also, that some of them have a double sting, and that the males—for he asserts that they are engendered by the union of the sexes—are the most dangerous. These may easily be known, he says, by their slender form and greater length. He states, also, that they all of them have venom in the middle of the day, when they have been warmed by the heat of the sun, as, also, when they are thirsty—their thirst, indeed, can never be quenched. It is an ascertained fact, that those which have seven joints in the tail are the most[95] deadly; the greater part, however, have but six.