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PALGRAVE STUDIES IN RELATIONAL SOCIOLOGY
The Invisible
Order
A Relational Approach
to Social Institutions
Olli Herranen
Palgrave Studies in Relational Sociology
Series Editors
Nick Crossley
Department of Sociology
University of Manchester
Manchester, UK
Peeter Selg
School of Governance, Law and Society
Tallinn University
Tallinn, Estonia
In various disciplines such as archeology, psychology, psychoanalysis,
international relations, and philosophy, we have seen the emergence of
relational approaches or theories. This series, founded by François
Dépelteau, seeks to further develop relational sociology through the pub-
lication of diverse theoretical and empirical research—including that which
is critical of the relational approach. In this respect, the goal of the series
is to explore the advantages and limits of relational sociology. The series
welcomes contributions related to various thinkers, theories, and methods
clearly associated with relational sociology (such as Bourdieu, critical real-
ism, Deleuze, Dewey, Elias, Latour, Luhmann, Mead, network analysis,
symbolic interactionism, Tarde, and Tilly). Multidisciplinary studies which
are relevant to relational sociology are also welcome, as well as research on
various empirical topics (such as education, family, music, health, social
inequalities, international relations, feminism, ethnicity, environmental
issues, politics, culture, violence, social movements, and terrorism).
Relational sociology—and more specifically, this series—will contribute to
change and support contemporary sociology by discussing fundamental
principles and issues within a relational framework.
Olli Herranen
The Invisible Order
A Relational Approach to Social Institutions
Olli Herranen
University of Helsinki
Helsinki, Finland
Palgrave Studies in Relational Sociology
ISBN 978-3-031-16480-4 ISBN 978-3-031-16481-1 (eBook)
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-16481-1
© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer
Nature Switzerland AG 2022
This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the
Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of
translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on
microfilms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information storage and retrieval,
electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now
known or hereafter developed.
The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this
publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are
exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use.
The publisher, the authors, and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information
in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the
publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, expressed or implied, with respect to
the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been made. The
publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and
institutional affiliations.
This Palgrave Macmillan imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature
Switzerland AG.
The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland
Acknowledgements
I take this opportunity to thank all who have contributed to the improve-
ment of this book—you know who you are. Special gratitude goes to Antti
Halmetoja, Risto Heiskala, Matti Kortesoja, and Matti Ylönen for their
time dedicated to giving valuable feedback on the introduction to the
book. Despite all the support received, however, I remain the sole party
responsible for the shortcomings of the presentation in your hands.
The editors of the Relational Sociology series, Peeter Selg and Nick
Crossley, deserve great thanks for encouraging the publishing of this work.
Another deep bow of gratitude is to Patrik Aspers and Mark Blyth, for
their kind endorsements. Even further outpourings of gratitude go to my
excellent proof-reader and editor Anna Shefl for improving my English yet
again, graphic artist Jani Saajanaho for his image-processing in the illustra-
tion of the camera obscura, and the Palgrave/Springer staff (especially
Elizabeth Graber and Chandralekha Mahamel Raja, who helped me with
the practicalities and kept my work approach under control). Also deserv-
ing a huge ‘Thanks!’ is Kone Foundation, whose generous support made
my endeavours possible once again—your trust and confidence are much
appreciated!
The last expression of thanks but certainly not the least goes to Veera,
who once more endured my babbling in the course of the writing process.
This has not gone unnoticed.
v
Contents
1 Introduction:
In Search of Invisible Order 1
The Problem of Order 6
The Structure of the Book 15
References 18
2 The
Relational Structure of Social Institutions 21
Everything Is Related… So What? 24
Placing the Structural-Relational Question: Social Facts as
Institutions 30
Conclusion: Institutions as Associations 37
References 40
3 I nstitutions in Neo-institutionalism 43
From Old to New: The Origin of Neo-institutionalism and the
Reconciliation Agenda 49
The Main Forms of Neo-institutionalism 55
Conclusion: No Reconciliation in Sight 59
References 61
vii
viii Contents
4 H
istorical Institutions 65
Historical Causation 69
Institutions from the Perspective of Historical Institutionalism 72
Conclusion: Historical Institutions Reconstructed 80
References 83
5 I nstitutions as Ideas 85
The Ideas Themselves 89
Ideas with Causal Force 94
Discursive Institutionalism 102
Conclusion: Ideas as Lifeworlds of Agents 108
References 112
6 The
Social as a System115
Preconditions for the Social System 119
The Social System 123
The Cultural and the Personality System 131
The Integration Compromise and Institutional Change 136
Conclusion: Theory of Peaceful Reproduction of Society 139
References 144
7 A
Lifeworld as an Institution147
Crusoe and Friday ‘in Nucleo’ in the Institutionalisation Process 150
Trouble in an Island Paradise 155
The End of the Causal Rope 159
Beyond the Worldly Dough? 162
Conclusion: The Social Construction of Reality and Beyond 166
References 168
8 C
apitalist Social Order171
The Historical Condition of Capitalism 174
Defining Capitalism 179
The System Dimension of Capitalist Conditions: Competitive
Relations 185
The Lifeworld Dimension of Capitalist Conditions: Commodity
Fetishism 189
Conclusion: The Social Condition of Capitalist Production 193
References 196
Contents ix
9 Ideology
in Capitalist Societies199
Critical Ideology Theory 201
The Ideological as an Alienated Socialisation from Above 210
The Spontaneous Subject 217
Contradiction, Resistance, and Change 222
Conclusion: Ideological Institutions of a Capitalist Society 225
References 231
10 Conclusion:
The Invisible Order235
References 256
Index259
About the Author
Olli Herranen, PhD (Sociology), is a researcher at Finland’s University
of Helsinki. His work has focused on social theory, climate-change denial-
ism, and the political economy and public administration of both Finland
and the European Union.
xi
Abbreviations
DI Discursive institutionalism
HI Historical institutionalism
IS Ideational scholarship
PIT Projekt ideologietheorie
RCI Rational choice institutionalism
SI Sociological institutionalism
xiii
List of Figures
Fig. 3.1 A timeline of the appearance of the forms of new institutionalism
and the structure of analysis here 47
Fig. 5.1 ‘Perennial dualisms’ in ideational theory 88
Fig. 9.1 The camera obscura (Athanasius Kircher, seventeenth century.
Creative Commons licence CC BY 4.0) 206
xv
List of Tables
Table 3.1 The main branches of neo-institutionalism 56
Table 9.1 The theoretical field of ideology 205
Table 10.1 A typology of the complementary dimensions of social
relations within the framework of order presented in this book 253
xvii
CHAPTER 1
Introduction: In Search of Invisible Order
The first Kentucky Fried Chicken (KFC) restaurant in Finland opened in
November 2021. The opening immediately made headlines in the largest-
circulation Finnish newspaper, Helsingin Sanomat (HS). The 11 November
HS article reported on a tent outside the restaurant three days before the
opening whose occupant had remained hidden until the big opening.
Media enquiries could not convince the voice from the tent to reveal its
identity. Also, HS covered social-media speculation in which people won-
dered that the resident was there for the opening reward: the first cus-
tomer would receive a year of free chicken, with the next 25 customers
getting a free 10-litre chicken bucket.
When the official opening event began, Benjamin, a member of the
activist group Viral Vegans, emerged from the tent and started to make a
statement about intensive farming of animals. Shortly, he was joined by
two fellow activists, from the queue of people waiting to visit the just-
opened KFC. In one immediate result, a security guard carried Benjamin
from the shopping centre bodily. His two associates were escorted out.
They were removed from the public premises even though the activists
were not inside the restaurant but in the corridor housing the restaurant.
As Benjamin was borne from the property physically, he continued to read
his statement. The incident generated nearly a hundred reader comments
on the article and numerous reactions on social-media platforms—where,
not so surprisingly, people were divided on the activist act and the inten-
sive animal-farming itself. Comments and reactions ran the gamut of
© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature 1
Switzerland AG 2022
O. Herranen, The Invisible Order, Palgrave Studies in Relational
Sociology, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-16481-1_1
2 O. HERRANEN
anger, libel, mocking, questioning, encouragement, joy, reflection, and
appreciation, though disapproval of such activism was strongly
represented.
The event can be taken as a lens for reflection on a wide spectrum of
issues addressed in sociology and social theory, particularly related to
social order. One central feature of social order is that it becomes apparent
when upset, while otherwise we usually operate in society as fish in water.
Indeed, social order usually becomes visible only when we collide with its
limits—limits that are beyond our control as individuals and even as
groups. Our social roles as well-behaving customers are most acceptable in
the eyes of society, but Benjamin’s role as an activist who rips open the
curtain between customer experience and intensive animal-farming is
frowned upon and even forbidden, as his removal from the shopping cen-
tre illustrates. Had he remained quietly in the consumer role, everything
would have been fine, but when he stepped out of line, he gained first-
hand experience of something Émile Durkheim (1982 [1895]: 51) said
about social facts, or institutions upholding the prevailing order: if we
conform to the prevailing ways of thinking and behaving, we do not come
across their coercive nature, but as soon as we try to resist, ‘they impose
themselves upon [us]’.
What Durkheim meant by this is that social facts and institutions are
invisible to the naked eye but become highly visible when we challenge the
prevailing rules, norms, and customs—in other words, appropriate con-
duct in a modern consumer society in this case. The associated coercion is
what Benjamin concretely experienced in these striking moments.
However, what appears—or does not appear—can be deceiving, since
what we constantly see and experience is order, even if we do not pay
attention to it. The security guards were not the only actors playing role
in the KFC story.
The social-media videos shot at the event present a queue of people
waiting their turn to visit the just-opened KFC outlet. In Finland, queues
outside store-openings are a common news topic. The news items illus-
trate how eager Finnish people are to queue for ‘free stuff’ at openings
and other events. These stories are, of course, reported to make light of
Finnish enjoyment of getting something for nothing, no matter how
worthless it might be in monetary terms. However, in this case, the queue
were also an audience for a play in which an activist tried to make the ori-
gins of their food visible—unalienate them, if you will—and where the
so-called third party restored the prevailing order. The threat to the order
arose from the risk that Benjamin would ruin the customer experience
Another Random Scribd Document
with Unrelated Content
whither it resorts for the purpose of passing the helpless period of
pupa-hood.
If it is captured on such an occasion, there will be little trouble in
feeding, as it will generally refuse food altogether, and, betaking
itself to a quiet corner, prepare for its next stage of existence.
If taken at an earlier period of its life, it feeds greedily on the
nettle above-mentioned, and the amount of nutriment which one
caterpillar will consume is perfectly astounding. I once had nearly
four hundred of them all alive at the same time, and they used to be
furnished with nettles by the armful. Of course so large a number is
not necessary for ordinary purposes; but this regiment was required
for the purpose of watching the development and anatomy of the
creature through its entire life.
As the skins of caterpillars are not capable of growth, and the
creature itself grows with singular rapidity, it is evident that the skins
themselves must be changed, as is the case with many other
animals of a higher class, such as the snakes, newts, &c.
For this purpose the skin of the caterpillar splits along the back of
the neck, and by degrees the creature emerges, soft, moist, and
helpless. A very short time suffices for the hardening of the new
envelope; and as the caterpillar has been obliged to fast for a day or
two, previously to changing the skin, it sets to work to make up for
lost time, and does make up effectually.
In the case of the Woolly Bear, and several others, the cast skin
retains nearly the same shape and appearance as when it formed
the living envelope of the caterpillar; and, consequently, if any
number of these insects are kept, the interior of their habitation
soon becomes peopled with these imitation caterpillars. Each
individual changes its skin some ten or eleven times, each time
leaving behind it a model of its former self, so that caterpillars seem
to multiply almost miraculously.
Although even the exterior appearance of an insect is very
wonderful, yet its interior anatomy is, if possible, even more
wonderful, and, if possible, should be examined. The mode of doing
so is simple and easy. If the Woolly Bear, for example, is to be
dissected, the easiest mode of doing so is as follows:—
Get a shallow vessel, glass if possible, about an inch or so in
depth; load a flat piece of cork with lead, put it at the bottom of the
vessel, and fill it nearly to the top with water. Now take the
caterpillar, which may be killed by a momentary immersion in boiling
water, or by being placed in spirits of wine, and with a few minikin
pins fasten it on its back on the cork. The pins of course must only
just run through the skin, and two will be sufficient at first, one at
each end.
Now take a pair of fine scissors, and carefully slit up the skin the
entire length of the creature, draw the skin aside right and left, and
pin it down to the cork.
The creature will now exhibit portions of organs of different
shapes and characters, the remainder being concealed under the
mass of fat that is collected in the interior. This fat must be carefully
removed in order to show the vital organs; and this object is best
attained by using a fine needle stuck into a handle. I generally use a
common crochet-needle handle, so that needles of various sizes can
be used at pleasure.
Now will appear a number of organs closely packed together, and
mostly stretching along the entire length of the creature. In order to
assist the inquirer, I here present a plan or chart of the interior of
the caterpillar when thus opened. It must be understood that the
drawing is not meant to represent the particular anatomy of any one
species, but to give a general view, by means of which the
anatomical details of any caterpillar may be recognised. And in order
to give greater distinctness, only one of each organ is seen, though
with the exception of the intestinal canal, there is a double set of
each organ, one on each side.
Running in a straight line from head to tail is seen the digestive
apparatus, consisting of throat, stomach, and intestines, with their
modifications; and this apparatus is marked a a in the cut.
On the surface of the digestive
apparatus, and straight along its centre, lies
the nervous system, represented by tiny
white threads dotted at regular distances by
rather larger spots of the same substance.
If the nerve is examined closely, it will be
seen to be composed of two very slender
threads, lying closely against each other,
but easily separable: in which state they are
shown. And the little knobs are called
“ganglia,” each forming a nervous centre,
from which smaller nerves radiate to the
different portions of the body.
As for brains, the caterpillar dispenses
with them almost entirely; and instead of
wearing one large brain in the head, is
furnished with a row of lesser brains, or
ganglia, extending through its whole length.
This is the reason why caterpillars are so
tenacious of life. If a man loses his head,
he dies immediately; but an insect is not
nearly so fastidious, and continues to live
INTERIOR OF
for a long time without any head at all.
CATERPILLAR.
Indeed, there are some insects, which, if
beheaded, die, not so much on account of
the head, but of the stomach: for, having then no mouth, they
cannot eat, and so die of hunger. And some insects there are which
positively live longer if decapitated than if left in possession of their
head.
On the right hand may be seen a curiously twisted organ, marked
c, swelling to a considerable size in the middle, and diminishing to a
mere thread at each end. This is one of the vessels that contain the
silk, or rather the substance which becomes silk when it is spun.
If this organ be cut open in the middle, it will be seen filled with a
gummy substance of curious texture, partly brittle and partly tough.
From this substance silk is spun, by passing up the tube, through the
thread-like portion, and so at last into a tiny tube, called the
spinneret, which opens from the mouth, and wherefrom it issues in a
fine thread.
There are two of these silk-making organs, and both unite in the
spinneret. Consequently, if silk is examined in the microscope, the
double thread can clearly be made out, both threads adhering to
each other, but still distinguishable. If the threads lie parallel to each
other, the silk is good; if not so, it is of an inferior quality, and liable
to snap.
Most caterpillars possess this silk-factory, but some have it much
more largely developed than others—the silk-worm, for instance. It
is of considerable size in the larva which we are examining, because
the Woolly Bear has to spin for itself a silken hammock in which to
swing while it is in the sleep of its pupal state. Just before it begins
to spin, the organ is of very large size, and distended with the liquid
silk; but after the hammock is completed, the organ diminishes to a
mere thread, and is soon altogether absorbed.
At the left hand of the drawing may be seen a curious structure,
marked b b. This is the chief portion of the respiratory system, and
may be at once recognised by the ringed structure of the tube.
Indeed it is quite analogous to that of the windpipe in animals.
The mode in which insects breathe differs much from that of the
higher animals. In them the breathing apparatus is gathered into
one mass, called lungs or gills, as the case may be; but with insects,
the respiratory system runs entirely over, round, and through the
body, even to the tips of the claws, and the end of the feelers or
antennæ.
Every internal organ is also surrounded and enveloped by the
breathing tubes; and this often to such an extent, that the dissector
is sadly perplexed how to remove the tracheal tubes, as they are
called, without injuring the organs to which they so tightly cling.
Sometimes they are so strongly bound together, that they may be
removed like a net, but mostly each must be taken away separately.
The mode in which these tracheal tubes supply the digestive
apparatus may be seen at b b; and as there is a double set of them,
it may be seen how closely they envelop the organ to which they
direct their course.
The ringed structure runs throughout the entire course of the air
tubes, and is caused by a thread running spirally between the two
membranes of which the tube is composed. The object of this
curious thread is to keep the tube always distended, and ready for
the passage of air. Otherwise, whenever the insect bends its flexible
body, it would cut off the supply of air in every tube which partook
of the flexure of the body.
The structure is precisely similar to that of a spiral wire bell-
spring; and so strong is the thread, that I have succeeded in
unwinding nearly two inches of it from the trachea of a humble bee.
The air obtains entrance into these tubes, not through the mouth
or nostrils, but through a set of oval apertures arranged along the
sides of the insect, which apertures are called “spiracles”; and two of
them are indicated at b* b*.
In order to prevent dust, water, or anything but air, from entering,
the spiracles are defended by an elaborate chevaux de frise of hair,
or rather quill, so disposed as to keep out every particle that could
injure. So powerful are these defences, that, even under the air-
pump, I was unable to force a single particle of mercury through
them, though a stick will be entirely permeated by the metal, so that
if cut it starts from every pore. I kept the creature in a vacuum for
three days, then plunged it under mercury, and let in the air. Even
then no effect was produced, except that the whole of the stomach
and intestinal canal were charged with mercury.
But, though the spiracles are such excellent defences against
obnoxious substances, they are not capable of throwing off any
substance that may choke them. Consequently, nothing is easier
than to kill an insect humanely, if one only knows how; and few
things more difficult, if one does not know.
For example, if ladies catch a wasp they proceed to immolate it by
snipping it in two with their scissors; a dreadfully cruel process, for
the poor creature has still some four or five brains left intact, and
lives for many hours. But if a feather is dipped in oil and swept
across the body of the creature, it collapses, turns on its back, and
dies straightway. For the oil has stopped up the spiracles, and so the
supply of air is cut off from every portion of the body at once. The
same rule holds good with all insects.
There is yet one more organ to which I must draw attention, and
that is the curious bag-shaped object marked e.
Just as the silk is contained in the vessel c, so the saliva is
contained in e, and is developed according to the character and
habits of the insect. Some insects require a large supply of that
liquid, which is used for various purposes, and others require
comparatively little. The caterpillar in which these receptacles may
be found best developed is the larva of the Goat-moth, which may
be easily found within the substance of decaying trees. Of the Goat-
moth we may speak in a future page.
If the reader will again refer to the engraving on p. 100, he will
see that between the tracheal tube and the digestive apparatus is a
curiously waved line, forming two loops in its upper portion, and
running into a confused entanglement below. This entanglement,
however, is only apparent, for in nature there is no entangling; all is
perfect in order.
This wavy line represents one of the numerous thread-like vessels
that surround this portion of the digestive apparatus, and are called
the biliary vessels, being, in fact, the insect’s liver. There is a large
mass of these biliary vessels, and they are found so closely entwined
among each other, and so encircled with the air tubes, that to
separate them is no easy matter. Their microscopic structure is
curious, and will repay a careful examination.
In examining the creature for the first time, the dissector will be
tolerably sure to damage the organs and unfit it for preservation,
and therefore it is best to take such a course for granted, and to
make the best of it.
Removing all these vital organs, he should then examine the
wonderful and most complicated muscular structure, by which the
caterpillar is enabled to lengthen, shorten, twist, and bend its body
in almost any direction, and that with such power that many
caterpillars are enabled to stretch themselves horizontally into the
air, and there to keep themselves motionless for hours together.
Few people have any idea of the wonders that they will find inside
even so lowly a creature as a caterpillar—wonders, too, that only
increase in number and beauty the more closely they are examined.
When the outer form has been carefully made out, there yet remains
the microscopical view, and after that the chemical, in either of
which lie hidden innumerable treasures.
A very forcible and unsophisticated opinion was once expressed to
me, after I had dissected and explained the anatomy of a silk-worm
to an elderly friend. He remained silent for some time, and then
uttered disconnected exclamations of astonishment.
I asked him what had so much astonished him.
“Why,” said he, “it’s that caterpillar. It is a new world to me. I
always thought that caterpillars were nothing but skin and squash.”
Having now seen something of the exterior and interior of the
caterpillar, we will watch it as it prepares for its next state of
existence.
Hitherto it has been tolerably active, and if alarmed while feeding,
it curls itself round like a hedgehog and falls to the ground, hoping
to lie concealed among the foliage, and guarded from the effects of
the fall by its hairy armour, which stands out on all sides, and
secures it from harm. But a time approaches wherein it will have no
defence and no means of escape, so it must find a means of lying
quiet and concealed. This object it achieves in the following manner.
It leaves its food, and sets off on its travels to find a retired spot
where it may sling its hammock and sleep in peace. Having found a
convenient spot, it sets busily to work, and in a very short time spins
for itself a kind of silken net, much like a sailor’s hammock in shape,
and used in the same manner. It is not a very solid piece of work, for
the creature can be seen through the meshes; but it is more than
sufficiently strong to bear the weight of the inclosed insect, and to
guard it from small foes.
On plate B, and fig. 5 b, the silken hammock is represented, the
form of the pupa inside being visible. It casts off its skin for the last
time, and instead of being a hirsute and active caterpillar, becomes a
smooth and quiescent chrysalis. In this state it abides for a time that
varies according to the time of year and the degree of temperature,
and at last bursts its earthly holdings, coming to the light of the sun
a perfect insect.
When first the creature becomes a chrysalis, its colour is white,
and its surface is bathed in an oily kind of liquid, which soon hardens
in the air, and darkens in the light.
On one occasion, I watched a Woolly Bear changing its skin, and,
seizing it immediately that the task was accomplished, put it into
spirits of wine, intending to keep it for observation.
Next day, the spirit was found to have dissolved away the oily
coating, and all the limbs and wings of the future moth were
standing boldly out.
Before closing this chapter, I must just remark that the absence of
scientific terms throughout the work will be intentional, from a wish
to make the subject intelligible, instead of imposing. It would have
been easy enough to speak of the Woolly Bear as the larva of Arctia
Caja; to describe it as a chilognathiform larva, with a subcylindrical
body, and no thoracic shield: passing through an obtected
metamorphosis, and becoming a pomeridian lepidopterous imago;
and to have proceeded in the same style throughout. But as nearly
every one who has taken a country walk has seen Woolly Bears, and
hardly any one knows what is meant by “chilognathiform,” the
subject is treated of for the benefit of the many, even at the risk of
incurring the contempt of the few.
CHAPTER VI.
THE PUSS-MOTH—CURIOUS CATERPILLAR—A
STRONG FORTRESS—THE BURNET-MOTH—OAK
EGGER—HOW TO KILL INSECTS—TWOFOLD LIFE
—VICTIMS OF LOVE—ACUTE SENSES—THE
STORY OF INSECT LIFE—DRINKER MOTH—
CATERPILLAR BOX—EMPEROR MOTH—TYPE OF
THE MOUSE-TRAP.
Just at the right hand of the Tiger-moth, on plate B, may be seen
a caterpillar of a very strange and eccentric form, and marked by the
number 4 a. This is the larva or caterpillar of the Puss-moth, and is
no less beautiful in colouring than fantastic in form. Its attitude, too,
when it is at rest, is quite as curious as its general appearance.
While eating, it sits on the leaves and twigs much as any other
caterpillar; but when it ceases to feed, and reposes itself, it grasps
the twig firmly with the claspers with which the hinder portion of its
body is furnished, and raises the fore-part of its body half upright. In
this attitude it much resembles that of the Egyptian Sphinx, and
from this circumstance the moth itself is called a Sphinx. An old
gardener was once quite put out of temper by seeing several of
these caterpillars for the first time, because they had so
consequential an air.
The colouring of this creature varies according to the time of year;
but it may be easily recognised by its form alone, which is very
peculiar.
One of the most remarkable points in the creature is the forked
apparatus at the end of the tail, and which frightens people who do
not know the habits of the caterpillar. These forks are black
externally, and rather stiff, but are only sheaths for two curious rose-
coloured tentacles, which are usually kept hidden, but which may be
seen by touching the caterpillar with the point of a needle. When the
creature is thus irritated, it will protrude these tentacles from their
sheath, and will then strike the part that had been touched.
It is supposed that this apparatus is intended as a kind of whip,
wherewith to drive away the ichneumon flies, and other parasites,
that inflict such annoyance on many caterpillars.
When this caterpillar proceeds to its pupal state, it makes itself a
wonderful fortress—not suspended like that of the Tiger-moth, nor
hidden in a dark spot; but it boldly fixes its residence on the exterior
of the tree on which it feeds, trusting to its similitude to the bark for
concealment, and to the strength of its habitation for safety, even if
discovered.
It is furnished with a gummy substance, something after the
manner of the silk of the Tiger-moth; but instead of spinning that
substance into threads, it uses it in the following manner.
Biting little chips of wood from the bark of the tree, the caterpillar
glues them together with this natural cement; and so builds an
arched house for itself, much about the size and shape of half a
walnut-shell. So strongly compacted is this residence, that rain and
wind have no effect on it, and a penknife does not find an easy
entrance.
One or two of these caterpillars which I brought home modified
their dwellings in a curious manner. One of them nibbled to pieces a
portion of a cardboard box, and so made a kind of papier-maché
house; while others, who were placed under a glass tumbler, and
upon a stone surface, simply made their house of the hardened
gum. In this state, it appeared as if it had been made of thin horn,
and was so transparent that the chrysalis could be seen through the
walls.
The caterpillar is common enough, and may be found on the
willow or poplar. And a sharp eye will soon learn to detect the winter
house, which to an unpractised eye looks as if it were merely a
natural excrescence on the bark.
If one of these habitations is found, the best mode of removing it
is to avoid touching the dwelling itself, but to cut away the bark
round it; and then, by inserting the point of a stout knife, gently
raise up the house, together with the bark on which it is placed. This
is one of the modes by which an entomologist may find employment
even during the winter months, and others will be mentioned in the
course of this work.
The moth itself may be seen figured on plate B, fig. 4. It is called
the Puss-moth, on account of the soft furry down with which its
body is covered, and it is fancifully thought to resemble the fur of
the cat.
It is rather a difficult moth to preserve effectually, as it is apt to
become “greasy”—that is, to have its whole beauty destroyed by an
oiliness that exudes from the body, and gradually creeps even over
the wings. The best preservative is to remove the contents of the
abdomen, and stuff it with cotton-wool that has been scented with
spirits of turpentine. But even that plan is rather precarious, and the
delicate, downy plumage is apt to be sadly damaged during the
process of stuffing.
Still keeping to the same plate, and referring to the right-hand
corner at the top, a moth of strange aspect will be seen; and
immediately below it an object that somewhat resembles the
hammock of the Tiger-moth, affixed in a perpendicular instead of an
horizontal direction. This moth is called the Burnet-moth, and the
hammock is the pupa case of the same insect.
The colouring of this moth is very rich and beautiful. The two
upper wings are green, and of a tint so deep that, like green velvet,
they almost appear to be black. On each of these wings are several
red spots, varying in number according to the species; some wearing
six spots, and others only five. The two under wings are of a
carmine red, edged with a border of black, in which is a tinge of
steely blue. The body is velvety black, with the same blue tint.
The moth is rather local; but when one is found in a field,
hundreds will certainly be near.
At the best of times it is not an active insect, and on a cold or a
dull day hundreds of them may be seen clinging to the upright grass
stems, from which they can be removed at pleasure.
The caterpillar of this beautiful moth keeps close to the ground,
and feeds on grasses, the speedwell, dandelion, and other plants.
When it is about to become a pupa, it ascends some slender upright
plant, generally a grass stem, and then spins for itself the residence
which is represented on the plate.
In this state it may be gathered, and placed under a glass shade;
and in the summer months the perfect insect will make its
appearance. There are some places which it specially favours, and
where it may be found in great profusion. At Hastings, for example,
the fields about the cliffs were so populated by these moths, that
hardly a grass stem was without its Burnet-moth’s habitation.
Feeding on the same plant as the Tiger-moth caterpillar, may often
be found another caterpillar of a very different aspect. It is very
much larger, and instead of presenting an array of stiff bristles, is
covered with thick soft hair of a yellowish-brown colour, diversified
with stripes of a deep velvety black, arranged so as to resemble the
slashed vestments that were so fashionable some centuries ago.
This caterpillar is the larva of the Oak Egger-moth, and is not so
remarkable as a caterpillar as for the house which it builds for its
pupal residence.
After changing its skin the requisite number of times, the
caterpillar ceases to feed, and, proceeding to some convenient spot
(generally a faded thorn-branch), spins its temporary habitation. This
cocoon, as it is called, is about an inch in length; and into that
narrow space the creature contrives to push, not only itself, but also
its last and largest skin.
The substance of the cocoon is hard and rather brittle when dry;
and in texture somewhat resembles thin brown cardboard. In its
substance, and on its surface, are woven many of the hairs with
which the caterpillar is furnished. If the cocoon is carefully opened,
the chrysalis will be found within, its head towards the spot where
the moth is to emerge, and the cast caterpillar-skin crumpled down
by its tail.
In course of time, the chrysalis passes through its development,
and the egger-moth itself pushes its way out of the cocoon, with
wings and body wet and wrinkled, but soon to assume their proper
form and strength. The cocoon is shown at plate I, fig. 5 a.
Sometimes the cocoon remains unbroken beyond the proper
season; and if it is examined, one or two little holes will generally be
found in it. These are signs that the egger has met with an untimely
fate, and that it has fallen a victim to those scourges of the insect
world, the ichneumon flies. Of these creatures we shall speak in a
future page, and therefore omit to describe them here. The moth is
shown at fig. 5.
If the moth is intended to be killed, and then placed in a cabinet,
the use of sulphur must be avoided. It kills the moth, certainly; but it
kills the colours also, and quite ruins its appearance. Sulphur is
always a dangerous instrument in insect-killing, and should on no
account be used. There are many ways of destroying insects
humanely, and extinguishing their life as if by a lightning flash; but
these modes vary according to the size, sex, and nature of the
insect. Some of them I will here mention.
If the insect is a beetle, it may be plunged into boiling water, or
into spirits of wine, in which a very little corrosive sublimate has
been dissolved. Both modes will destroy the life rapidly, but the
former is the better of the two. When walking in the fields or woods,
a wide-mouthed, strong bottle, about half full of spirits of wine, is a
useful auxiliary, as all kinds of beetles, and even flies and bees, can
be put into it; and if dried in a thorough draught, will look as well as
before. If this precaution be not taken, all the insects that have long
hair, as the humble-bee and others, will lose their good looks, and
their hair will be matted together in unseemly elf-locks.
Butterflies, and most of the Diptera, or two-winged flies, can be
instantaneously killed by a sharp pinch on the under-surface of the
thorax among the legs, as the great mass of nerves is there
collected. Many people seem to fancy that the head is the vital part
in an insect; and having pinched or run a pin through its head, they
think that they have effectually slain the creature, and marvel much
to see it lively some twenty-four hours afterwards.
Especially is this the case with the large-bodied moths, whose
vitality is quite astonishing. You may even stamp upon them, and yet
not crush the life out of that frail casket. If you drive the life out of
one-half of the creature, it only seems to take refuge in the other;
and then retain a more powerful hold, like a garrison driven into a
small redoubt.
It is not at all uncommon to find one of these moths dead and dry
as to its wings and limbs, which snap like withered sticks if touched,
and yet with so much life in it as to writhe its abdomen if irritated,
and to deposit its eggs just as if it were in full activity.
Indeed, so strong is this power that the creature seems to be
gifted with a double life, one for itself and the other for its progeny.
The former is comparatively weak, and but loosely clings to its
home; but the latter intrenches itself in every organ, penetrates
every fibre, and, until its great work is completed, refuses to be
expelled. So, unless the entire mechanism of the insect be killed, the
poor creature may live for days in pain.
Fortunately, there is a mode of so doing; and this is the way of
doing it:—
Make a strong solution of oxalic acid, or get a little bottle of
prussic acid—it is the better of the two, if you have discretion as
beseems a naturalist. Also make a bone or iron instrument,
something like a pen, but without a nib. Dip this instrument into the
poison as you would a pen, and then you have a weapon as deadly
as the cobra’s tooth, and infinitely more rapid in its work. Now hold
your moth delicately as entomologists hold moths, near the root of
the wings. Keep the creature from fluttering; plunge the instrument
smartly into the thorax, between the insertion of the first and second
pair of legs; withdraw it as smartly, and the effect will be
instantaneous. The moth will stretch out all its legs to their full
extent; there will be a slight quiver of the extremities; they will be
gently folded over each other; and you lay your dead moth on the
table.
The reason of this rapid decease is of a twofold nature.
In the first place, the chief nerve mass is cut asunder, and even
thus a large portion of the life is destroyed. But the chief breathing
tubes are also severed, and a drop of poison deposited at their
severed portions. Consequently, at the next inspiration, either the
poison itself or its subtle atmosphere rushes to every part, and to
every joint of the insect, thus carrying death through its whole
substance.
The male insect is very different in appearance to the female, and
in general is hardly more than two-thirds of her size. The colours,
too, are very different; for in the male insect the wings are partially
of a dark chestnut brown, with a light band running round them, as
may be seen in the engraving; while in the female the wings are
almost entirely of a uniform yellowish brown.
The antennæ, too, of the male are deeply cleft, like the teeth of a
comb; while those of the female are narrow, and comparatively
slightly toothed.
As is the case with several other moths, the male oak eggers are
sad victims to the tender passion, and fall in love not only at first
sight, but long before they see the object of their affection at all.
If a female egger is caught immediately after her entrance into
the regions of air, and placed in a perforated box near an open
window, her unseen charms will be so powerfully felt by gentlemen
of her own race that they will flock to the casket that contains their
desired treasure, and fearlessly run about it, fluttering their wings,
and striving to gain admission. So entirely do they abandon
themselves to the captivity of love, that they do not fear the risk of a
bodily captivity, and will suffer themselves to be taken by hand,
without even an endeavour to escape.
Carry the imprisoned moth into the fields, and even there the
eager suitors will arrive from all quarters, and boldly alight on the
box while in the hand of the entomologist.
More wonderful must be the influence that can emanate from so
small a creature, and extend to so great a distance—an influence
which, although entirely inappreciable by any human sense,
exercises so potent a sway on all sides, and to so great a distance.
The conditions, too, of this mysterious influence are singularly
delicate; for after the moth has once found her mate, she may be
placed amid a crowd of gentlemen, and not one will take the least
notice of her.
Like the young beauty of the ball-room, who whilom attracted to
herself crowds of beaux, that fluttered around her, and contended
with each other for a look or a smile of their temporary divinity, but
who finds herself deserted by the fickle crowd when her election is
made; so our Lady Lasiocampa Quercus, after setting all hearts
ablaze for a time, makes happy one favoured individual, is deserted
by the many rejected, and left in quiet to the duties of a wife and a
mother.
Her married life is but short, for her husband rarely survives his
happiness more than a few hours, and she, after making due
preparation for the welfare of her numerous family, whom she is
never to see, feels that she has fulfilled her destiny, and gives up a
life which has now no further object.
There is really something very human in the life even of an insect.
Many a life story have I watched in the insect world, which, if
transferred to the human world, would be full of interest. There is
also one great advantage in the insect life, namely, that as it only
consists of a year or two, the events of several successive
generations come under the observation of a single historian.
First, a number of tiny, purposeless beings come into the world,
spreading about much at random, and seeming to have no other
object except to eat. It is but just to them to say that they don’t cry,
and are always contented with the food that is given them.
They rapidly increase in size, pass through a regular series of
childish complaints, which we mass together under this single term,
“moulting,” but which are probably to their senses as distinct as
measles, and chicken-pox, and hooping-cough.
They outgrow a great many suits of clothes in a wonderfully short
period; they retire for a time to finish their education; and then
come before the world in all the glory of their new attire.
Up to this time they are nearly exactly alike in habits and
manners; but, when freed from the trammels that held them, they
diverge, each in his appointed way, each exulting for a short space
in the buoyancy of youth, and fluttering indeterminately in the new
world, but soon settling down to the business for which they were
made.
So even in insects a human soul can find a companionship, and a
solitary man need never feel entirely alone as long as he can watch
the life of a humble moth, and see in that despised creature some
manifestations of the same feelings which actuate himself.
And it even seems that, through this companionship, the higher
nature communicates itself in some degree to the lower, as is shown
by the many instances of men who have tamed spiders and other
creatures quite as far removed from the human nature. In such a
case it seems very clear that either the higher nature gives to the
lower an intelligence not its own, or that it develops powers which
would have lain dormant had they not been called forth by the
contact of a superior being.
This subject is a very wide one, and well worth following up. But
as it runs through the whole creation, and this book is only to
consist of a few pages, it must suffice merely to put forth the idea.
To pass to another insect.
On plate E, and fig. 1 and 1 a, may be seen an insect which
somewhat resembles the oak egger-moth, and is often mistaken for
it by inexperienced eyes. This is the “Drinker” moth, remarkable for
the thick furry coat which it wears, as a caterpillar and as a moth,
and which it employs in the construction of its cocoon. This moth is
one of my particular friends; and I have had hundreds of them from
the egg to their perfect state. I had quite a large establishment for
the education and development of lepidoptera, and especially
favoured the tiger-moth, the oak egger, and the drinker.
The caterpillar of this moth is entirely covered with dense hair,
even down to the very feet; and by means of this protection it is
enabled to brave the winter frost, needing not to pass the cold
months in a torpid state. It is a pretty caterpillar, and very easily
recognised by the figure. Its chief peculiarities are the two tufts of
hair that it bears at its opposite extremities, and the double line of
black spots along its sides.
Generally, it feeds on various grasses, but it is not dainty, as are
many caterpillars; and I have always found it to eat freely of the
same food as the oak egger larva. This caterpillar is seen at fig. 1 b.
When alarmed, it loosens its hold of the plant on which it is
feeding, rolls itself into a ring, and drops to the ground, hoping to
evade notice among the foliage. This habit used to be rather
perplexing to me, not because the creature could escape by so well-
known a trick, but because it would not go into the box prepared for
its reception.
It is necessary to have a box of a peculiar form for the collection
of caterpillars. If the lid is raised every time that a fresh capture is
made, difficulties increase in proportion to the number of
caterpillars. For, when some thirty larvæ are in the box, they all
begin to crawl out when the lid is opened; and Hercules had hardly a
more bewildering task among the hydra’s heads than the
entomologist among his captives.
No sooner is the light admitted, than a dozen heads are over the
side; and as fast as one is replaced, six or seven more make their
appearance. The only remedy is to sweep them all back with a rapid
movement of the hand, to shake them all to the bottom, and then to
replace the lid as fast as possible. Even with all precaution,
caterpillars are crushed; and, besides, they are delicate in their
constitutions, and require gentle handling.
So the best plan is to have a tin box made with a short tube,
through which the caterpillars can be introduced, and which can be
stopped by a cork when the creatures are fairly inside.
Now, although this is a capital contrivance for caterpillars that hold
themselves straight, it fails entirely when they curl themselves into a
ring and refuse to be straightened. It is as impossible to straighten a
rolled-up hedgehog as a caterpillar in a similar attitude; and if force
is used in either case, the creature will be mortally injured. However,
gentle means succeed when violence fails, with insects as with men.
A Bheel robber will steal the bedding from under a sleeping man
without waking him; and, by an analogous process, the refractory
caterpillar is lodged in his prison before he is fairly awake to his
condition.
The entomologist feels a justifiable pride in executing similar
achievements; for there is quite as much force of intellect needed to
outwit a caterpillar as a quadruped.
When the drinker caterpillar passes into its pupal state, it makes
for itself a very curious cocoon, not unlike a weaver’s shuttle in
shape, being large in the middle, and tapering to a point at each
end. The texture is soft and flexible, as if the cocoon were made of
very thin felt, and the larval hairs are quite distinguishable on its
surface. The moth leaves the cocoon about August. For the cocoon
see fig. 1 c.
I found that few caterpillars are so liable to the
attack of ichneumon flies as those of the drinker moth.
A cocoon now before me is pierced with thirteen holes
from which ichneumon flies have issued, having eaten
up the caterpillar. The eggs are shown in fig. 1 e.
If the reader will now refer to plate C, the central
figure will be found to represent a strikingly handsome
COCOON OF moth, called, from its gorgeous plumage, the “Emperor
THE Moth”.
EMPEROR
MOTH. Its body is covered with a thick downy raiment, and
the wings are clothed with plumage of a peculiarly soft
character, which is well represented in the figure. The
antennæ, too, are elaborately feathered.
Although the beauty of this insect would entitle it to notice in its
perfect state, and the peculiar shape of its larva—(see plate C, fig. 4
a)—would draw attention, yet its chief title to admiration lies in the
cocoon which it constructs for its pupal existence.
Externally, there is nothing remarkable in the cocoon; and, as may
be seen in the same plate, fig. 4 b, it is a very ordinary, rough, flask-
shaped piece of workmanship. But if the outer covering be carefully
removed, or if the cocoon be divided lengthways, a very wonderful
structure is exhibited.
The inventor of lobster-pots is not known, and history has failed to
record the name of the man who first made wire mouse-traps with
conical entrances, into which the mice can squeeze themselves, but
exit from which is impossible.
But, though the principle had not been applied to lobsters or mice,
it was in existence ages upon ages ago. Before human emperors had
been invented, and very probably long before mankind had been
placed on our earth, the caterpillar of the emperor moth wove its
wondrous cell, and thereby became a silent teacher to the cunning
race of mankind how to make mouse-traps and lobster-pots.
For inside the rough outer case, which is composed of silken
threads, woven almost at random, and very delicate, is a lesser case,
corresponding in shape with its covering, but made of stiff threads
laid nearly parallel to each other, their points converging at the small
end of the case. See the cut on p. 125.
It will now be seen that the moth when it leaves its chrysalid case
can easily walk out of the cocoon, but that no other creature could
enter. So within its trapped case the chrysalis lies secure, until time
and warmth bring it to its perfection. It breaks from its pupal shell,
walks forward, the threads separate to permit its egress, and then
converge again so closely that to all appearance the cocoon is
precisely the same as when the moth was within.
Now, any observant member of the human race, who had been
meditating upon traps, and happened in a contemplative mood to
open one of these cocoons, would feel a new light break in upon
him, and, Archimedes-like, he would exclaim “Eureka,” or its
equivalent, “I have found my trap!” Reverse the process, make the
converging threads to lead into instead of out of the trap, and the
thing is done. “I will make it of wire, put it on my shelf, and I catch
mice and rats. I will make it of osier, sink it to the bottom of the sea,
and I catch lobsters and crabs. I will lay it in a rapid, and I catch
roach and dace; I will place it under the river banks, and then I have
cray-fish.”
So might he soliloquise on the future achievements of his newly-
discovered principle. But unless he had the prophetic afflatus strong
within him, never would he imagine that in future times his discovery
would catch a monarch and an Elector to boot.
CHAPTER VII.
ELEPHANT HAWK-MOTH—PRIVET HAWK-MOTH—
DIGGING FOR LARVÆ—BUFF-TIPP MOTH—GOLD-
TAILED MOTH—CASE FOR ITS EGGS—CURIOUS
PROPERTY OF ITS CATERPILLAR-VAPOURER
MOTH—LEAF-ROLLERS—GREEN-OAK MOTH—ITS
CONSTANT ENEMY—LEAF-MINERS—LACKEY
MOTH—EGG BRACELETS.
It will be noticed that the insects mentioned in the preceding
chapter are mostly remarkable for the cocoons which they construct,
and that the peculiarities of the larva and the perfect insect are but
casually mentioned. Those, however, which will be noticed in this
chapter are chosen because there is “something rare and strange” in
the habits and manners of the creatures themselves.
As it will be more convenient to keep to the same plate as much
as possible, we still refer to plate G. On casting the eye over the
objects there depicted, the strangest and most fantastic shape is
evidently that creature which is marked 5 a.
The aspect of the creature is almost appalling, and it seems to
glare at us with two malignant eyes, threatening the poisoned blow
which the horrid tail seems well able to deliver.
Yet this is as harmless a creature as lives, and it can injure nothing
except the leaves of the plant on which it feeds. The eye-like spots
are not eyes at all, but simply markings on the surface of the skin,
and the formidable horn at the tail cannot scratch the most delicate
skin.
The creature is in fact simply the caterpillar of a very beautiful
moth, represented in fig. 5, and called the Elephant Hawk-moth—
elephant, on account of its long proboscis, and hawk on account of
its sharp hawk-like wings and flight. The caterpillar may be found in
many places, and especially on the banks of streams, feeding on
various plants, such as the willow-herbs.
Another kind of hawk-moth is much more common than the
elephant, and is represented on plate A; the moth itself at fig. 5, and
its caterpillar at fig. 5 a.
This is called the Privet Hawk-moth, because the caterpillar feeds
on the leaves of that shrub. The colours of both moth and caterpillar
are very beautiful, and not unlike in character.
The bright leafy green tint of the caterpillar, and the seven rose-
coloured stripes on each side, make it a very conspicuous insect, and
raise wishes that tints so beautiful could be preserved. But as yet it
cannot be done, for even in the most successful specimens the
colours fade sadly in a day or two, and after a while there is a
determination towards a blackish brown tint that cannot be checked.
Any one, however, who wishes to try the experiment may easily
do so, for there are few privet hedges without their inhabitants, who
may keep out of sight, but can be brought tumbling to the ground
by some sharp taps administered to the stems of the bushes.
In the winter the chrysalis may be obtained by digging under
privet bushes. There the caterpillar resorts, and works a kind of cell
in the ground for its reception. It is better not to choose a frosty day
for the disinterment, or the sudden cold may kill the insect, and the
seeker’s labour be lost.
Should it be desirable to capture the larva and to keep it alive the
object can be easily attained; for the creature is hardy enough, and
privet bushes grow everywhere. In default of privet leaves, it will eat
those of the syringa and the ash. When it reaches its full growth, it
should be provided with a vessel containing earth some inches in
depth. Into this earth it will burrow, and remain there until the moth
issues forth.
Care should be taken to keep the earth rather moist, as otherwise
the chrysalis skin becomes so hard that the moth cannot break out
of its prison, and perishes miserably.
On the same plate, fig. 4, may be seen a moth of a curious shape,
very feathery about the thorax, the head being all but concealed by
the dense down, and as difficult to find as the head of a Skye-terrier,
were not its position marked by the antennæ. This is the Buff-tip
Moth, so called on account of the upper wing-tips being marked with
buff-coloured scales.
The caterpillar, which is represented immediately above, and
marked 4 a, is a very singular creature, its habits being indicated by
the marks on its skin. As soon as the young caterpillars are hatched,
they arrange themselves in regular order, much after the fashion of
the dark stripes, and so march over leaf and branch, devastating
their course with the same ease and regularity as an invading army
in an enemy’s land.
When they increase to a tolerably large size, they disband their
forces, and each individual proceeds on its own course of
destruction. Were it not for the colours which they assume, these
creatures would do great damage; but the ground being yellow and
the stripes black, the caterpillars are so conspicuous that sharp-
sighted birds soon find them out, and having discovered a colony,
hold revelry thereon, and exterminate the band.
Comparatively few escape their foes and attain maturity. When
they have reached their full age, they let themselves drop from the
branches, and when they come to soft ground, bury themselves
therein to await their last change. Individuals may often be seen
crossing gravel paths, which they are unable to penetrate, and
getting over the ground with such speed and in so evident a hurry
that they seem to be aware that birds are on the watch and
ichneumons awaiting their opportunity.
There is a very pretty moth covered with a downy white plumage
even to the very toes, and carrying at the extremity of its tail a tuft
of golden silky hair. From this coloured tuft, the creature bears the
name of Gold-tailed Moth. It may often be found sticking tightly to
the bark of tree stems, its glossy white wings folded roof-like over its
back, and the golden tuft just showing itself from the white wings.
This golden tuft is only found fully developed in the female moth,
and comes into use when she deposits her eggs. The moth is shown
on plate E, fig. 4.
As the eggs are laid in the summer time, they need no guard from
cold; but they do require to be sheltered from too high a degree of
temperature, and for this purpose the silken tuft is used.
At the very end of the tail the moth carries a pair of pincers, which
she can twist about in all directions; and this tool is used for the
proper settlement of the eggs. The moth, after fixing on a proper
spot, pinches off a tiny tuft of down, spreads it smoothly, lays an
egg upon it, covers it over, and finally combs the hair so as to lie
evenly. And when she has laid the full complement, she gives the
whole mass some finishing touches, like a mother tucking-in her
little baby in the bed-clothes, and smoothing them neatly over it.
The egg masses are common enough, and are readily discovered
by means of their bright yellow covering.
The caterpillar of this moth is a very brilliant scarlet and black
creature, commonly known by the name of the “palmer-worm,” and
to be found plentifully of all sizes.
People possessed of delicate skins must beware of touching the
palmer-worm, or they may suffer for their temerity. I was a victim to
the creature for some time before I discovered the reason of my
sufferings. And the case was as follows.
Being much struck with the vivid colours of the caterpillar, I was
anxious to preserve some specimens, if possible, in a manner that
would retain the scarlet and black tints. One mode that seemed
feasible was to make a very small snuff-box, as ladies call a
rectangular rent, in the creature’s skin, to remove the entire vital
organs, to fill the space with dry sand, and then, when the skin was
quite dry, to pour out all the sand, leaving the empty skin.
After treating six or seven caterpillars in this fashion, I perceived a
violent irritation about my face, lips, and eyes, which only became
worse when rubbed. In an hour or so my face was swollen into a
very horrid and withal a very absurd mass of hard knobs, as if a
number of young kidney potatoes had been inserted under the skin.
Of course, I was invisible for some days, and after returning to my
work, was attacked in precisely the same manner again. This second
mischance set me thinking; and on consultation with the medical
department, the fault was attributed to the hot sand which I had
been using.
So, when I went again to the work, I discarded sand, and stuffed
the caterpillars with cotton wool cut very short, like chopped straw.
My horror may be conjectured, but not imagined, when I found, for
the third time, that my face was beginning to assume its tubercular
aspect.
Then I did what I ought to have done before, went to my
entomological books, and found that various caterpillars possessed
this “urticating” property, as they learnedly called it, or as I should
say, that they stung worse than nettles. Since that time, I have
never touched a palmer-worm with my fingers.
It was perhaps a proper punishment for neglecting the knowledge
that others had recorded. But I always had rather an aversion to
book entomology, and used to work out an insect as far as possible,
and then see what books said about it. Certainly, although not a very
rapid mode of work, yet it was a very sure one, and fixed the
knowledge in the mind.
On the same plate, fig. 4 a, is shown the caterpillar of this moth, a
creature conspicuous from the tufts of beautifully-coloured hair
which are set on its body like camel-hair brushes.
The caterpillar spins for itself a silken nest wherein to pass its
pupa state, and in general there is nothing remarkable about the
nest. But I have one in my collection of insect habitations that is
very curious.
I had caught, killed, and pinned out a large dragon-fly, and placed
it in a cardboard box for a time. Some days afterwards, a palmer-
worm had been captured, and was imprisoned in the same box. I
was not aware that such a circumstance had happened, and so did
not open the box for a week or two, when I expected to find the
dragon-fly quite dry and ready for the cabinet.
When, however, the box was opened, a curious state of matters
was disclosed. The caterpillar had not only spun its cocoon, but had
shredded up the dragon-fly’s wings, and woven them into the
substance of its cell. The glittering particles of the wing have a
curious effect as they sparkle among the silver fibres.
On plate D, fig. 3 a, is represented a creature whose sole claim to
admiration is its domestic virtue, for elegance or beauty it has none.
It hardly seems possible, but it is the fact, that this clumsy creature
is the female Vapourer Moth, the male being represented
immediately below fig. 3.
Why the two sexes should be so entirely different in aspect, it is
not easy to understand. The female has only the smallest imaginable
apologies for wings, and during her whole lifetime never leaves her
home, seeming to despise earth as she cannot attain air.
This moth is not obliged to form laboriously a warm habitation for
her eggs, for she places them in a silken web which she occupied in
her pupal state, and from which she never travels.
Curiously enough, her eggs are not placed within the hollow of the
cocoon as might be supposed, but are scattered irregularly and
apparently at random over its surface. Even there, though, they are
warm enough, for the cocoon itself is generally placed in a sheltered
spot, so that the eggs are guarded from the undue influence of the
elements, and at the same time protected from too rapid changes of
temperature.
In the hot summer months, the leaves of trees are crowded with
insects of various kinds, which fly out in alarm when the branches
are sharply struck. Oak trees are especially insect-haunted, and
mostly by one species of moth, a figure which is given on plate B,
fig. 1.
This little moth is a pretty object to the eyes, but a terrible
destructive creature when in its caterpillar state, compensating for
its diminutive size by its collective numbers. The caterpillar is one of
those called “Leaf-Rollers,” because they roll up the leaves on which
they feed, and take up their habitation within.
There are many kinds of leaf-rollers, each employing a different
mode of rolling the leaf, but in all cases the leaf is held in position by
the silken threads spun by the caterpillar.
Some use three or four leaves to make one habitation, by binding
them together by their edges. Some take a single leaf, and,
fastening silken cords to its edges, gradually contract them, until the
edges are brought together and there held. Some, not so ambitious
in their tastes, content themselves with a portion of a leaf, snipping
out the parts that they require and rolling it round.
The insect before us, however, requires an entire leaf for its
habitation, and there lies in tolerable security from enemies. There
are plenty of birds about the trees, and they know well enough that
within the circled leaves little caterpillars reside. But they do not find
that they can always make a meal on the caterpillars, and for the
following reason.
The curled leaf is like a tube open on both ends, the caterpillar
lying snugly in the interior. So, when the bird puts its beak into one
end of the tube, the caterpillar tumbles out at the other, and lets
itself drop to the distance of some feet, supporting itself by a silken
thread that it spins.
The bird finds that its prey has escaped, and not having sufficient
inductive reason to trace the silken thread and so find the caterpillar,
goes off to try its fortune elsewhere. The danger being over, the
caterpillar ascends its silken ladder, and quietly regains possession of
its home.
Myriads of these rolled leaves may be found on the oak trees, and
the caterpillars may be driven out in numbers by a sharp jar given to
a branch. It is quite amusing to see the simultaneous descent of
some hundred caterpillars, each swaying in the breeze at the end of
the line, and occasionally dropping another foot or so, as if
dissatisfied with its position.
Each caterpillar consumes about three or four leaves in the whole
of its existence, and literally eats itself out of house and home. But
when it has eaten one house, it only has to walk a few steps to find
the materials of another, and in a very short time it is newly lodged
and boarded.
The perfect insect is called the “Green Oak Moth”. The colour of its
two upper wings is a bright apple green; and as the creature
generally sits with its wings closed over its back, it harmonises so
perfectly with the green oak leaves, that even an accustomed eye
fails to perceive it. So numerous are these little moths, that their
progeny would shortly devastate a forest, were they not subject to
the attacks of another insect. This insect is a little fly of a shape
something resembling that of a large gnat; and which has, as far as
I know, no English name. Its scientific title is Empis. There are
several species of this useful fly, one attaining some size; but the
one that claims our notice just at present is the little empis,
scientifically Empis Tessellata.
I well remember how much I was struck with the discovery that
the empis preyed on the little oak moths, and the manner in which
they did so.
One summer’s day, I was entomologising in a wood, when a
curious kind of insect caught my attention. I could make nothing of
it, for it was partly green, like a butterfly or moth, and partly
glittering like a fly, and had passed out of reach before it could be
approached. On walking to the spot whence it had come, I found
many of the same creatures flying about, and apparently enjoying
themselves very much.
A sweep of the net captured four or five; and then was disclosed
the secret. The compound creature was, in fact, a living empis,
clasping in its arms the body of an oak moth which it had killed, and
into whose body its long beak was driven. I might have caught
hundreds if it had been desirable. The grasp of the fly was
wonderful, and if the creature had been magnified to the human
size, it would have afforded the very type of a remorseless, deadly,
unyielding gripe. Never did miser tighter grasp a golden coin, than
the empis fastens its hold on its green prey. Never did usurer suck
his client more thoroughly than the empis drains the life juices from
the victim moth.
He is a terrible fellow, this empis, quiet and insignificant in aspect,
with a sober brown coat, slim and genteel legs, and just a modest
little tuft on the top of his head. But, woe is me for the gay and very
green insect that flies within reach of this estimable individual.
The great hornet that comes rushing by is not half so dangerous,
for all his sharp teeth and his terrible sting. The stag-beetle may
frighten our green young friend out of his senses by his truculent
aspect and gigantic stature. But better a thousand stag-beetles than
one little empis. For when once the slim and genteel legs have come
on the track of the little moth, it is all over with him. Claw after claw
is hooked on him, gradually and surely the clasp tightens, and when
once he is hopelessly captured, out comes a horrid long bill, and
drains him dry. Poor green little moth!
Still continuing our research among the oak leaves, we shall find
many of them marked in a very peculiar manner. A white wavy line
meanders about the leaf like the course of a river, and, even as the
river, increases in width as it proceeds on its course. This effect is
produced by the caterpillar of one of the leaf-mining insects, tiny
creatures, which live between the layers of the leaf, and eat their
way about it.
Of course, the larger the creature becomes, the more food it eats,
the more space it occupies, and the wider is its road; so that,
although at its commencement the path is no wider than a needle-
scratch, it becomes nearly the fifth of an inch wide at its termination.
It is easy to trace the insect, and to find it at the widest extremity of
its path, either as caterpillar or chrysalis. Often, though, the creature
has escaped, and the empty case is the only relic of its being.
There are many insects which are leaf-miners in their larval state.
Very many of them belong to the minutest known examples of the
moth tribes, the very humming bird of the moths, and, like the
humming birds, resplendent in colours beyond description. These
Micro-Lepidoptera, as they are called, are so numerous, that the
study of them and their habits has become quite a distinct branch of
insect lore.
Some, again, are the larvæ of certain flies, while others are the
larvæ of small beetles. Their tastes, too, are very comprehensive, for
there are few indigenous plants whose leaves show no sign of the
miner’s track, and even in the leaves of many imported plants the
meandering path may be seen.
There are some plants, such as the eglantine, the dewberry, and
others, that are especially the haunts of these insects, and on whose
branches nearly every other leaf is marked with the winding path. I
have now before me a little branch containing seven leaves, and six
of them have been tunnelled, while one leaf has been occupied by
two insects, each keeping to his own side.
The course which these creatures pursue is very curious.
Sometimes, as in the figure on plate A, fig. 1, the caterpillar makes a
decided and bold track, keeping mostly to the central portion of the
leaf.
Sometimes it makes a confused tortuous jumble of paths, so that
it is not easy to discover any definite course.
Sometimes it prefers the edges of the leaves, and skirts them with
strange exactness, adapting its course to every notch, and following
the outline as if it were tracing a plan.
This propensity seems to exhibit itself most strongly in the deeply
cut leaves. And the shape or direction of the path seems to be as
property belonging to this species of the insect which makes it; for
there may be tracks of totally distinct forms, and yet the insects
producing them are found to belong to the same species.
If the twigs of an ordinary thorn bush be examined during the
winter months, many of them will be seen surrounded with curious
little objects, called “fairy bracelets” by the vulgar, and by the
learned “ova of Clisiocampa Neustria”. These are the eggs of the
Lackey Moth, and are fastened round the twigs by the mother
insect, a brown-coloured moth, that may be found in any number at
the right time.
It is wonderful how the shape of the egg is adapted to the
peculiar form into which they have to be moulded, and how perfectly
they all fit together. Each egg is much wider at the top than at the
bottom; and this increase of width is so accurately proportioned,
that when the eggs are fitted together round a branch, the circle
described by their upper surfaces corresponds precisely with that of
the branch.
These eggs are left exposed to every change of the elements, and
are frequently actually enveloped in a coat of ice when a frost
suddenly succeeds a thaw. But they are guarded from actual contact
with ice and snow by a coating of varnish which is laid over them,
and which performs the double office of acting as a waterproof
garment and of gluing the eggs firmly together. So tightly do they
adhere to each other, that if the twig be cut off close to the bracelet
the little egg circlet can be slipped off entire.