Chapter I (3)

"Here I was received by two eunuchs, one of whom was attired in
a light drab uniform. ... I was then ushered through another
door, the portals of which were guarded by a group of eunuchs,
similarly attired, but whose uniforms were most costly
embroidered. Their features were hideous and ferocious, their
figures corpulent, and carriage haughty,

"They also salaamed me in the most oriental style. Thence,
passing along a marble passage, I entered a large stone hall,
which was supported by huge granite pillars which led me to the
grand staircase, where I was received by the chief eunuch, who
is called _kislar agaci_, 'the captain of the girls.'

"This giant spectre of a man ... advanced toward me, made his
salaam, and ushered me, the _hated_, despised Giaour, into
the noble marble hall of the harem, which was then for the
first time polluted by the footsteps of the unbeliever. The
scene around me was so singular and strange that I paused to
contemplate it. The hall was of vast dimensions, supported by
beautiful porphyry pillars, and the marble floor was covered
with fine matting. I was now handed over to the lady
superintendent of the slaves, a very wealthy woman, about
twenty-four years of age, with fine dark-blue eyes, aquiline
nose, large mouth, and of middle stature.

"She was attired in a colored muslin dress and trousers, over
which she wore a quilted lavender-colored satin paletot. Her
head was covered with a small blue gauze handkerchief tied
round it, and in the centre of the forehead, tucked up under
it, a lovely natural dark-red rose. She wore a beautiful large
spray of diamonds arranged in the form of the flower
'forget-me-not,' which hung down like three tendrils below her
ear on the left side. Large diamond drops were suspended from
her ears, and her fingers were covered with numerous rings, the
most brilliant of which were a large rose-pink diamond and a
beautiful sapphire.
{410}
Her feet were encased in white cotton stockings, and
patent-leather Parisian shoes. Her name was Anina: she had been
formerly an Ikbal 'favorite.' ... The lady superintendent now
took me by the hand, led me up two flights of stairs covered
with thick, rich Brussels carpet of a most costly description,
and as soft and brilliant in colors as the dewy moss of
Virginia Water. The walls were plain. Then we passed through a
suite of several rooms, elegantly carpeted, in all of which
stood long divans; some of which were covered, with white, and
others with yellow and crimson satin. Over the doorways hung
white satin damask curtains, looped up with silk cords and
tassels to correspond, with richly gilded cornices over each.
... Against the walls were fixed numerous silver chandeliers,
each containing six wax candles, with frosted colored glass
shades made in the form of tulips over them. On each side of
the room large mirrors were fixed in the wall, each of which
rested on a marble-topped console table supported by gilded
legs. The only other articles of furniture that were scattered
about the apartments were a dozen common English cane-bottom
_Kursi_-chairs."

She is next conducted further on to some dormitories, where bedsteads are wanting, being an article of furniture unused by the Gypsies. Against the walls were piled up beds in heaps, covered over with a red silk coverlet. On the divan was placed a silver tray--both toilet-tables and wash-hand-stands being unheard-of comforts--containing the princesses' toilet requisites. In her general inspection the governess is led to the apartments of the Princess Epouse, the mother of the little boy for whom Mrs. Lott is engaged. This princess is dressed--but let dame Emeline describe the scene, as only a lady can do it:

"The Princess Epouse, attired in a dirty, crumpled,
light-colored muslin dress and trousers, sat _à la
Turque_, doubled up like a clasp-knife, without shoes or
stockings, smoking a cigarette. ... Her feet were encased in
_babouches_, 'slippers without heels.' ... In front of the
divan, behind and on each side of me, stood a bevy of the
ladies of the harem, assuredly not the types of Tom Moore's
'Peris of the East,' as described in such glowing colors in his
far-famed _Lalla Rookh_, for I failed to discover the
slightest trace of loveliness in any of them. On the contrary,
most of their countenances were pale as ashes, exceedingly
disagreeable, flat and globular in figure; in short, so rotund,
that they gave me the idea of large full moons; nearly all were
_passé_. Their photographs were as hideous and hag-like as
the witches in the opening scene in Macbeth, which is not to be
wondered at, as some of them had been the favorites of Ibrahim
Pasha. ... Some wore white linen dresses and trousers. Their
hair and finger-nails were dyed with _henna_. ... They had
handsome gold watches ... suspended from their necks by thick,
massive gold chains. Their fingers were covered with a
profusion of diamond, emerald, and ruby rings; in their ears
were ear-rings of various precious stones, all set in the old
antique style of silver. ... Behind stood half-a-dozen of white
slaves, chiefly Circassians."

The mother leaves a favorable impression on the mind of the governess, who, being finally dismissed from the interview, pursues her explorations and makes a great discovery neither complimentary to the princess nor cleanly, where water is abundant, but where ablutions seem to be abnormal; for it is written in her journal that

"Thence we passed along a stone passage which leads to her
highness's bath-room. ... The marble bath is both long and
wide, with taps for hot and cold water. The water actually
boils into which their highnesses enter. This only occurs when
they have visited the viceroy, and not daily, or even at any
other time. The bath of the poets is a myth."

The governess at last reaches her own chamber, where she is destined to sleep and seclude herself in her leisure hours. The prospect at first is not inviting, nor does a second view afford more encouragement; an evident sense of disappointment, if not of dismay, is experienced; and thus she pours forth her vexation:

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"On the right-hand side of the first room was the small
bed-room which was assigned to me as my apartment. It was
carpeted, having a divan covered with green and red striped
worsted damask, which stood underneath the window, which
commanded a fine _coup-d'ceil_ of the gardens attached to
the palace of the viceroy's pavilion. The hangings of the
double doors and windows were of the same material. The
furniture consisted of a plain green painted iron bedstead, the
bars of which had never been fastened, and pieces of wood, like
the handles of brooms, and an iron bar, were placed across to
support the two thin cotton mattresses laid upon it. There were
neither pillows, bolsters, nor bed linen, but as substitutes
were placed three thin flat cushions; not a blanket, but two
old worn-out wadded coverlets lay upon the bed. Not the sign of
a dressing-table or a chair of any description, and a total
absence of all the appendages necessary for a lady's bed-room;
not even--"

Well, well, Mrs. Lott, the "not even" was, in your civilized opinion, certainly very odd to be sure. But don't mind trifles; let it be forgotten; let us ramble elsewhere. You were saying just now something about four broad steps; go on; that's right.

"Four broad steps led down into the garden, close to a plain
white marble-columned gate, on the top of which stood out in
bold relief the statues of two huge life-sized lions. ... Here
and there were scattered rose-trees, the brilliancy of whose
variegated colors and the perfumes of their flowers were
delightfully refreshing; geraniums of almost every hue;
jessamines, whose large white and yellow blossoms were thrice
the size of those of England, and a variety of indigenous and
eastern plants, shrubs, and flowers, which were so thickly
studded about that they rendered the view extremely
picturesque, and perfumed the air, grateful to the senses.
Verbena trees, as large as ordinary fruit-trees; other plants
bearing large yellow flowers, as big as tea-cups, with most
curious leaves; cactuses, and a complete galaxy of botanical
curiosities, whose names the genius of a Paxton would be
perhaps puzzled to disclose, ornamented those Elysian grounds."

This is only one sketch of only one spot in the many gorgeous and luxurious localities. Space forbids copying more; but the book states:

"Leaving these neglected scenes of amusement, we proceed along
a path to the right, through a superb marble-paved hall, the
ceiling of which is in fresco and gold. It is supported by
twenty-eight plain pink-colored marble columns, surmounted by
richly-gilded Indian wheat, the leaves of which hang down most
gracefully, on each side of which, and also above ... are some
very handsome lofty rooms, the ceilings of which are also in
fresco, with superb gilded panels. ...

"The grounds of Frogmore, the Crystal Palace, St. Cloud,
Versailles, the Duke of Devonshire's far-famed Chatsworth, and
our national pride, Kensington Gardens and Windsor Home Park,
exquisite, beautiful, and rural as they are ... all lack the
brilliant display of exotics which thrive here in such
luxuriance. The groves of orange-trees, the myrtle hedges, the
beautiful sheets of water, the spotless marble kiosks, the
artistic statuary, are all so masterly blended together with
such exquisite taste, that these gardens ... completely outvie
them."

The princesses were sometimes as highly adorned as the halls of marbles and frescoes, and as ornamental as the gardens of blooming exotics. On the festival of the Great Bairam, or on state occasions, when lady visitors made formal calls to compare complexions and cashmeres, their highnesses are spoken of with the highest delight:

"They wore the most costly silks, richest satins, and softest
velvets; adorned themselves with the treasures of their jewel
caskets, so that their persons were one blaze of precious
stones. That crescent of females (for they always ranged
themselves in the form of the Turkish symbol) was then a
parterre of diamonds, amethysts, topazes, turquoises,
chrysoberyls, sapphires, jaspers, opals, agates, emeralds,
corals, rich carbuncles, and rubies. In short, the profusion of
diamonds with which the latter adorned their persons from day
to day became so sickening to me that my eyes were weary at the
sight of those magnificent baubles, to which all women are so
passionately attached."

{412}

But weary as were her British eyes, still she gazed in rapture when the darling gems were on exhibition; moreover, in the journal the impressions were faithfully recorded. On another occasion, when some princesses were coming,

"The Princess Epouse, the mother of my prince, was attired in a
rich, blue-figured silk robe, trimmed with white lace and
silver thread, with a long train; full trousers of the same
material, high-heeled embroidered satin shoes to match the
dress. On her head she had a small white crape handkerchief,
elegantly embroidered with blue silk and silver, and round it
placed a tiara of May blossoms in diamonds. She wore a necklace
to correspond, having large sapphire drops hanging down the
neck. Her arms were ornamented with three bracelets, composed
of diamonds and sapphires, and an amulet entirely of sapphires
of almost priceless value. ... At times my eyes, when looking
at the Peris arrayed in all their gems, have become as dim as
if I had been fixing them on the noonday sun."

What young lady of an enterprising turn of mind would not be willing, after reading these glowing descriptions, to pack up her Saratoga trunks, to engage the Adams Express Company, and to charter the Cunard line of steamers, to aid her on to a glorious future near the base of the pyramids? Certainly not one of the ambitious and strong-minded. But they need not ask the English governess to go with them. She has been there; she will respectfully decline going again--not she, as Shakespeare's other old lady in Henry the VIII. exclaims, "not for all the mud in Egypt." For another part of the story remains to be told; another side of the picture to be presented; and dame Emeline tells it truthfully, she paints it lifelike; the rose is beautiful, but beware the serpent under it.

Mrs. Lott is apparently a gentlewoman, refined, accomplished, intellectual, with an appreciation of the difference between civilized society and barbarism. But in the vice-regal harem, education was not to be found; ignorance was universal, superstition reigned supreme. None could read, or write, or sketch, or converse on a rational subject. No one could sing or perform on a musical instrument; none cared for to-morrow or for a hereafter. Their daily routine had all the monotony of the desert with its burning sands, destitute of variety in incident or shade of change; it was equally unproductive and utterly worthless. They had nothing to expect with pleasing anticipation; they had nothing to remember with delight. Physically, morally, mentally they were unclean and debased. Their passions, when aroused, were ungovernable; their greatest joy was revenge upon a rival; and their revenge was deadly, by suffocation or submersion, poison or the bow-string. Their amusements were all sensual; their weary hours of listless idleness were passed in indulgence of some enervating vice alike deleterious to health, comfort, and color.

The servants were steeped in only a lower depth of dirt and depravity. The princesses had the power of life and death over them, and it was a power often exercised; they would put them to the torture for a trivial fault, the breaking of a plate or the falling of a cup; and cheeks and arms seamed with parallel rows of the red-hot iron, attested how often and how unmercifully cruel had been their punishment. The food of the menials was not prepared for them, nor given to them; but they purloined by stealth from the dishes on their way to the princesses' apartments; and after their repast was ended, the refuse of chicken and pigeon bones, of mutton, of soup, of rice, of vegetables, and the rinds of fruit were tossed into a basket in one loathing mess, mixed up, around which the servants flocked like carrion birds, and, squatting on the floor, inserted ravenously their reeking hands to pick out disgusting morsels with their dripping, unwashed fingers.

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The laundry did not require much water; for the volume informs us,

"Those who performed the duties of washerwomen were occupied
daily in their avocation, except on the Sabbath, (Fridays.) But
that was not very laborious work, since neither bed, table, nor
chamber linen are used. Thus they were engaged until twelve,
when their highnesses partook of their breakfast separately. It
was served up on a large green-lackered tray, _minus_
table-cloth, knives and forks, but with a large ivory
tablespoon, having a handsome coral handle, the evident emblem
of their rank as princesses. It was placed upon the
_soofra_, a low kind of stool, covered with a handsome
silk cloth. The repast occupied about twenty minutes. Then
pipes, in which are placed small pills of opium, or more often
cigarettes and coffee, were handed to them, and each princess
retired to her own apartment. Thus they became confirmed
opium-smokers, which produced a kind of intoxication." ...

Their common indulgence in opium, with a profuse supply of European wines and Schiedam gin, produced its natural results, and is thus depicted:

"Oftentimes after the princesses had been indulging too freely
in that habit to which they had became slaves, their
countenances would assume most hideous aspects; their eyes
glared, their eyebrows were knit closely together; no one dared
to approach them. In fact, they had all the appearance of mad
creatures, while at other times they were gay and cheerful.

"They only combed their hair (which was full of vermin) once a
week, on Thursdays, the eve of their Sabbath, (Friday,
_Djouma_;) when it was well combed with a large
small-tooth comb; and pardon me, but 'murder will out,' the
members of the vermin family which were removed from it were
legion. It was afterward well brushed with a hard hair-brush,
well damped with strong perfumed water. Their highnesses never
wore stockings in the morning, nor did they change any of their
attire till afternoon."

When the summer heats set in, the harem was transferred to the coast at Alexandria, to inhale the fresh breezes from the sea. The preparation for flight was attended with some rich scenes and ludicrous exhibitions. But their transit on the railroad, boxed up like pigs or poultry on a cattle-train, is indescribable in a decent print. The prelude to the trip will bear repeating; it is an amusing contrast with the festal robes on the day of the Great Bairam; the cutaneous sensation it excites is the penalty to pay for the knowledge imparted; the company is right regal.

"As soon as orders had been given to the grand eunuch to hasten
the departure of the vice-regal family to Alexandria, ... there
was bustle all day long. One morning when I returned from the
gardens, ... I entered the grand pasha's reception-room; ...
there were their highnesses, the princesses, squatted on the
carpet amidst a whole pile of trunks. They were all attired in
filthy, dirty, crumpled muslins, shoeless and stockingless;
their trousers were tucked up above their knees, the sleeves of
their paletots pinned up above their elbows, their hair hanging
loose above their shoulders, as rough as a badger's back,
totally uncombed, without nets or handkerchiefs, but, pardon
me, literally swarming with vermin! No Russian peasants could
possibly have been more infested with live animals. In short,
their _tout ensemble_ was even more untidy than that of
washerwomen at their tubs; nay, almost akin to Billingsgate
fisherwomen _at home_; for their conversation in their own
vernacular was equally as low. They all swore in Arabic at the
slaves most lustily, banged them about right and left with any
missile, whether light or heavy, which came within their
reach."

At last the governess lost her health. The food was too unsuitable for a Christian woman, and the atmosphere, redolent of the overpowering rich perfumes of the gardens mingled with sickening, stupefying opium smell and smoke, along with other odors, almost intolerable. After visiting Constantinople with the harem, she threw up her engagement and returned to England.

This abasement of woman is not to be wondered at; for wherever the Christian idea of marriage is lost or subverted, woman becomes the mere object of passion, and degradation is sure to follow.

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Translated From Etudes Religieuses, Etc.,
Par Des Peres De La Compagnie De Jesus.

The Flight Of Spiders.

A Paper Read Before The French Academy Of Science,
March, 1867.

About fifteen years ago, I was sitting in an arbor of my garden, reading, when a little spider fell on my book, whence I could not tell, and commenced to run over the very line I was reading. I blew hard to chase him away, but he would not go. He lifted himself strangely up, and I cannot explain how, but he lodged on a sprig of verdure just above my head. "Well," said I, "for a little animal like that, this is a wonderful feat! How has he accomplished it?" To satisfy myself, I took him up again, balanced him on my book, and, after assuring myself that he had no invisible thread to aid him, I blew again, and again the little fellow did the very same thing. With redoubled curiosity, I tried him once more, and, to see better, I sat down in the bright sunlight. Again I balanced him on the book, looked at him as closely as possible, and, when I felt assured no precaution could have escaped me, I blew once more. ... Resuming the same inclined position, the spider as quick as lightning darted the finest possible thread out of him, raised himself in the air, and disappeared.

I confess I was stupefied. Never had I imagined these little animals could fly without wings; so I consulted several works on zoology, but I was astonished to find there was no mention made of the flight of spiders, nor of the ejaculatory movement of which I had witnessed so curious an example. [Footnote 96]

[Footnote 96: In M. Eugène Simon's _Natural History of
Spiders_, the most recent work of the kind, he says,
speaking of the manner in which _l'épéire diadème_
constructs its web: "Several authors suppose that the spider
darts its thread like an arrow, others imagine it throws it
upward in the air while flying as a fly would; but neither of
these explanations rests on observation, and they are, after
all, simple hypotheses." Then, describing his own observation
as to how a spider acts to make fast its great threads, he
says, "It seems to take a horizontal position, and moves
contrary to the wind." M. Simon's work gives us nothing else
to lead us to suppose he has observed the wonders spoken
of.--Tr.]

So there was a new question presented to me, and my vocation to study the habits of these little animals--which hitherto had given me no concern--decided for me. I immediately lost all repugnance, all distaste, and threw away all the unjust precautions of which the spider is too often the object, and of which I was as culpable as any one else. And from that time I welcomed its appearance; was most happy to meet with it, looked for it, indeed, and studied its habits almost with _furor_. And I can say that, thanks to this hearty preoccupation, which never left me, I found every opportunity to follow my inclination, and knew where to find spiders in all sorts of unheard-of places.

Such are the singular effects of curiosity once excited, and still another proof that, in order to study nature well, we need only a mysterious glimpse of the unknown to redouble all our energies to explain it thoroughly.

And as in this study, trifling as it may appear, I seem to have met with facts not known hitherto, but which deserve to be understood, I here resume the principal ones: those that treat of the flying of spiders; of the habitation of some species in the air; and of the gossamer or air threads--a singular phenomenon, for a long time discussed in vain, but which I believe I have definitively solved. {415} I only ask the naturalists to judge one fairly, not by theory, but by facts. And I am persuaded, if they will take the pains to verify what I advance, they will find me exact; and, if they begin doubtingly, I hope, after they have read my observations, they will conclude as others to whom I have communicated them. Mocking and incredulous at first, they have ended by believing their own eyes, and testifying to the evidence presented to them. May my labor prove useful, and, above all, contribute to the glory of the great God, whose just title is, _Magnus in magnis, maximus in minimis_.

I.

Threads Thrown Out By Spiders.

The first thing that I perceived, and that put me on the track of the rest, was, as I have just said, that the greater part of _aranéides_, especially certain varieties of _thomises lycoses_, etc., besides the thread that they always draw with them, have the power of darting one or more of extraordinary length, and of which they make use to accomplish distances, to fasten their webs from one point to another, and even, as we shall see further on, to raise themselves in the air and there to seek their prey. The spider always points his abdomen to the side where he wishes to go. The thread shoots like an arrow, fastens itself by the end to the place destined, and the spider passes as under a suspended bridge. If this thread is cut, it is immediately replaced by another; and the ejaculation is so prompt, so rapid, the thread so straight, so tenuous, so brilliant, that it might be taken, if I may so express myself, for the jet of an imperceptible ray of light. To perceive this clearly, the spider must be held on a level with the eyes, which should be shaded, and examined with one's back to the sun.

The best time for such an observation is in the morning or evening, when the sun is low in the horizon and the temperature is mild; for without this latter condition the torpid spider is more inclined to creep along the earth than to throw out new threads.

Sometimes, to excite them, they may be held by their ordinary thread and gently shaken or blown upon--just a few puffs of breath--which they detest.

I have thus been able to scan closely, while watching their development, this instantaneous jet of thread, which could not be less than five or six yards long, that is, fifteen hundred or two thousand times the length of the spider. What a tremendous apparatus must be necessary to these little animals for so rapid an ejaculation, and one so disproportioned to their size! And especially if we consider that this thread, inasmuch as it adheres to the animal, has not the appearance of an independent organ, but seems solely to obey its will. Thus I have seen spiders, who seemed to miss the end desired with the first stroke, continue to hold the thread in the same direction, and actually _palpitate_, if I may so say, while striving to make it adhere.

But a truly interesting sight, and one obtained at a very trifling expense, is that which the _thomises bufo_ offer, described by Walckenaer, in the first volume of his _History of Insects_, page 506. In truth, these araneides do not only throw out one thread, but an entire bundle of them, and are seemingly guided by the smaller threads, just as a peacock unfolds by degrees his splendid plumage.

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And even in one's own room this sight may be enjoyed. It is only necessary to collect these _thomises_ and keep them in separate boxes, and nourish them in winter with one fly or so a month. Then take the boxes out, put them on a table in a very warm room, and sit a little in the shade and watch them. Very soon from each box will appear a multitude of threads, of extreme freshness and fineness, which the spider throws into the air with inexhaustible profusion. At certain seasons of the year we can enjoy this spectacle again, and at even less expense.

II.

Flight Of Spiders.

Another property not less remarkable that these araneides possess (_thomises bufo, lycoces voraces_, etc.) is that of flying; that is to say, of elevating themselves in the air, there sustaining themselves, and travelling about horizontally and vertically, with or without a thread; in a word, acting exactly as if in their own element. This fact I have witnessed a thousand times, and it has been certified to by a great number of people, who, at first incredulous, and alarmed for the laws of gravitation, were compelled to confess the reiterated testimony of their own eyes.

I had some pupils under my charge, and to them this study became a continued source of amusement. During their recreation, they found suitable spiders for me, and, when they brought them to me, I rested them on my fingers and made them mount upward in the air; and invariably, after having watched them for some moments, they were entirely lost to sight. But when I made the discovery--of which I will speak later--of the general migration which some species make yearly toward certain regions of the atmosphere, I had no longer any trouble to enjoy this performance to my heart's content.

The flight of spiders is sometimes very rapid, particularly when they start. They often escape from one's hands while they are carefully watched. This happened to me one day with a _voracious lycose_ that I had for a long time importuned without success. Just as I was going to give him up as entirely stupefied, he suddenly escaped from me by a lateral movement, so rapid that for a moment I lost sight of him; but, when I found him a moment afterward, he was suspended quietly in the air. I also remarked that he set out without throwing any thread, and this was not the only time I made the same observation. I was experimenting one day with some amateurs in the interior court of the college where I live, and, having started a _lycose_, we saw him occupy himself at first with the neighboring galleries, running up and down for about twenty yards, about a tenth of a yard from the arch, against which he knocked himself from time to time, and groped about to look for a passage; not finding one, he threw himself back into the court, raised perpendicularly, and disappeared toward the clouds. His thread, if he had one, could not have been longer than a tenth of a yard. Ordinarily, however, before they ascend, they throw out a thread which they follow for a short time; then, arriving at a certain height, they break it, in order to navigate more easily. If any is left before them, they wind it rapidly with their feet, throw it aside, and form those pretty little crowns of white silk in form of _cracknels_, that we often see flying in the air in time of gossamers. Again, they balance themselves quietly with a thread which rises perpendicularly above them, and gives them the appearance of floating.

{417}

But a peculiarity still more remarkable in the flight of spiders is the attitude that they take in flying. They generally swim _backward_, that is to say, the back turned from the earth, the feet folded on the corselet, and perfectly immovable. How can such a flight be explained, for they are already heavier than the air? Plunged into alcohol, they sink quickly; but in the air they seem to possess an ease, a liberty, a facility of transport, so admirable that I have never been able to see in them the slightest motion, nor even an apparent increase of weight. Does not this fact present an interesting question for the skilful to contemplate?

III.

How Long They Can Remain In The Atmosphere?

At this portion of my history I have to relate facts the most curious and unexpected; and, unfortunately for me, more true than probable. I acknowledge I was loath to publish them, or assume concerning them any responsibility. But I was firmly convinced, and therefore hoped to be believed, especially by this generation of fearless naturalists, who are astonished at nothing in nature, and who, having often been surprised in the relation of almost incredible marvels, must certainly make allowances for a few more in another quarter.

Let us look at, for instance, the wonderful things related of the _argyronete_, or aquatic spider. [Footnote 97]

[Footnote 97: The _argyronete_ is a spider that lives in
the water where she constructs a charming little edifice that
appears surrounded with a silky mortar. The down that covers
her contains a certain quantity of air for respiration. This
gives her in swimming the appearance of a ball of
quicksilver, from which we have her name.]

I could not tell anything more unlikely, so I will only exact for the atmosphere a companion to what the Père de Lignac discovered in the last century for the water. Yes, I pretend there are spiders that live in the air as well as those living in water, and that every year, from the earliest days of spring, there is, unknown to us, a general migration of spiders toward the atmosphere, where they pass their best season, form their nets, chase their prey, and only return to earth in the first fogs of autumn to find their quarters for the winter. I add, also, that this ascent and descent give rise to the curious phenomenon, still so badly explained, of the gossamer. And as it was to the study of this phenomenon that I owe my knowledge of the rest, may I be permitted here, by way of demonstration, to relate briefly the path I have followed and the proofs which have led to the conviction I express?

Attracted, as I was, by all that concerns spiders, I could not remain indifferent to a fact so important and interesting as the periodical apparition of those threads which in spring and autumn we see flying about in long white skeins, clinging to trees, to hedges, and to the vestments of the passers-by, carpeting the country in a few hours with more silk, and finer and whiter, than could be spun in a year by all the reels in the world. Admirable netting, glistening in the light of the setting sun, and reflecting the sweetest, softest tints of gold, vermilion, and emerald, and receiving the pretty and poetical name of "_fils de la Vierge_." Was there not between this phenomenon and my preceding observations a secret tie, some mysterious relation? I seemed to foresee it, and, setting to work immediately, rejected from the very beginning the usual explanation of this phenomenon.

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How, indeed, can we admit these floating gossamers as merely the refuge webs of spiders, torn by the violence of the wind from the trees and forests and carried capriciously through the air? Will not the slightest observation convince us that they never appear but in the calmest moments, on days foggy in the morning, but afterward beautiful, and not preceding a storm; never in summer, often in the spring and autumn, and sometimes even in winter? If the winds carry them, why do they not appear in summer? Are violent winds and spider-webs both wanting? And who has ever seen one of these webs carried by a hurricane, especially in quantity sufficient to produce such a phenomenon? For the fall of gossamers sometimes lasts for almost entire days, and in certain countries during the middle of the day the fields are covered with them. Add, too, that violent winds are generally local, while this phenomenon is universal, and so periodical that in the same climates it appears at the same epochs, and, when one knows what produces it, it is easy to predict the time and day of the apparition.

Discontented, then, on this point with books and their explanations, I turn completely to the side of nature, and present all I observed.

From the first appearance of these threads in autumn, I was struck with the immense multitudes of new spiders met with everywhere, and which I had not seen during the summer. Little brown _lycoses_ filled the air, so that it seemed as if it had rained them. If one walked in the fields, the meadows, the gardens, on the borders of the woods, among heaps of dried leaves, scattered all through the forest everywhere, could be seen myriads of these little brown spiders, jumping up and flying before me in every direction, and exactly such as I had already recognized as such excellent swimmers. After having passed the winter in the earth, in the holes of worms that they completed with a little silk, they reappeared after the cold in great numbers, to disappear again entirely in the first bright days of spring, and as if by enchantment. If one is seen again during the summer, we may be sure it is some female retarded by laying her eggs, and dragging laboriously her cocoon after her. Now, what has become of the others?

For several months I could not satisfy myself on this point, when, on the 21 St of October, 1856, in the enclosure of the little seminary of Iseure, near Moulins, I came to a positive decision, I was observing the fall of a large quantity of gossamers, which were falling on that day in large white flakes, when I perceived close to me in the air one of those little black spiders descending gradually, and as if she were jumping. She held by an invisible thread to a large flake, which came down slowly about seven or eight yards above her; but, keeping outside of it, she hung by the end of the long thread, like an aeronaut underneath his balloon. My attention once attracted, I noticed so great a number that I was astonished I had not taken care sooner; for there was scarcely a flake underneath which there were not one or two, and this sometimes even before the flake itself was visible. [Footnote 98]

[Footnote 98: There is an observation which confirms my own.
We read in _Darwin's Journal_, page 159: "Mr. Darwin saw
a large number of gossamers on the ship Beagle, when she was
about 60 miles from the mouth of the Rio de la Plata. It was
the first of November, and these gossamers were carried by a
very light breeze, and on each were found an immense number
of little spiders, similar in appearance, about the twelfth
of an inch in length, and in color a deep brown. The smallest
were a deeper shade than the others. None were found on the
white tufts, but all on threads." _Journal of Researches
into the Natural History and Geology of the Countries visited
during the Voyage of his Majesty's Ship, the Beagle,_
1845.]

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Each one was separated by a slender thread, and followed the motion of its balloon. If they met a tree or a bush, they landed upon it; if not, coming close to the earth, they ran along and were lost in the verdure. If I approached them too quickly or made a noise, they remounted rapidly by their threads and went to disembark somewhere else.

I also examined some of the flakes. They were all shining white mats, appearing as if they had been washed. Several contained wings and feet of flies, fragments of the case of little coleoptera, and other remnants of their aerial festivities.

This encounter was for me a revelation. I knew where the spiders, whom I had seen disappear so brusquely, took refuge, and, however rash my judgment may appear, I felt assured I had solved an interesting problem.

But to establish seriously and give to science an opinion so new and original as that the atmosphere may be peopled with spiders, I soon felt that more proof was necessary in order to sit down calmly under my personal conviction. So I concluded I should not be doing too much if I added to the verification of their descent that of their ascension, and could surprise them in this new migration. I waited, therefore, impatiently for the spring.

But that spring, and for five or six that followed it, great was my disappointment; for, though I perceived several isolated ascensions, yet nothing in the proportion I had imagined or that could justify my hypothesis. I began then to doubt seriously my success, when an incident occurred that relieved my embarrassment, and proved how trifling sometimes are the causes which lift the veil from nature. I was looking straight upward, but sitting close to the earth, and so as to be able as much as possible to exclude the sun from my eyes. And here, by the way, a fact is made palpable, by no means microscopic, but which has escaped so long not merely the observation of the crowd of vulgar observers, but of those even who are wide awake and study carefully; namely, that it is not necessary to carry one's nose always in the air, if I may so express myself, to examine closely, to investigate, or to render a faithful account of phenomena.

On looking upward--as an ascension only takes place on very beautiful days, succeeding generally to bad weather--spiders cannot be distinguished from the multitude of other insects which fill the air. But if, on a beautiful day, mild, calm, and brilliant in sunlight, succeeding as nearly as possible to a rain warm with the south wind, at about nine or ten o'clock in the morning, a post is chosen on an eminence of a meadow or an avenue, and there, as near the ground as may be, and crouching low, the observer will look horizontally, he will perceive a series of fire-works, formed of innumerable threads launched from every direction and inclined toward the sky. This is the prelude. Soon the spiders detach themselves and mount slowly by their threads. The most conspicuous are the _thomises bufo_, because they are the largest, and because they only ascend with an entire bundle of threads, which gives them the appearance of small comets.

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Thus have I decided

1st. That there is not only one ascension every year, but several, at least partial ones; that they do not always take place in spring, but often in the autumn, and sometimes even in the winter; and in general, from the descent which has taken place in the beginning of autumn until the definitive ascension in the spring, there are but few favorable days of which the spiders do not profit to make an aerial journey, or at least to throw out a large number of threads. Thus, in the Beaujolais, where I have lived for several years, there were partial ascensions on the 1st, the 19th, and the 28th of November, 1864; the 21st, the 23d, and especially the 25th of October, the 9th of November, and the 6th of December, 1865. In 1866, the 18th and the 30th of January, the 3d of February, the 3d, 14th, and 31st of October, and the 17th of December. In 1867, the 10th of February, ... the last, however, less considerable than might have been predicted by the beauty of the day. The day previous was so mild, though cloudy, that many of the spiders may have embarked _incognito_. Many, also, may not have judged it _a propos_ to fly away, for a great number still remained on the ground. I forgot to observe the temperature of all the days I have noted. The director of the Normal School of Villefranche having had the kindness to show me the meteorological register which he had kept with great care, I was able to prove that in calm weather only ten or twelve degrees of heat were necessary to induce them to mount upward. The least exposed begin; then immediately the others, so soon as the heat reaches them; but after three or four o'clock in the afternoon no more ascensions are perceived, unless they are provoked; and this does not always succeed,

2d. Before taking their flight, they generally cling to some elevated object that they meet with easily, such as shrubs, bushes, props of vines, or blades of grass escaped from the scythe. To these they affix their threads and warm themselves well in the sun before commencing their excursion. This is the happy moment for amateurs to make their observations, for there is scarcely a blade of grass that does not contain one or more; and, if the branches of young trees are suddenly struck with a slight blow, a great number are detached, suspended at the end of their threads; and very often rare specimens are thus found not discoverable elsewhere.

IV.

To What Height Do They Raise
Themselves in the Atmosphere?

On this point I have not been able to make any direct observation. Perhaps I have dreamed of offering objections to the concourse of intrepid human navigators who undertake such perilous excursions in the air, and for my interest in the study I have found two excellent reasons. The first, that it would be well for them to know that, if they have not had rivals, they have had precursors, who, for 6000 years, have executed silently and noiselessly what they have claimed for themselves by every effort of puffs and publicity. The second, and a still more serious objection and that I believe will truly interest the future in this young industry, is that if the argyronete and its bell has given to science the instrument with which the divers explore the depths of the sea, why may not the study of aerial spiders furnish for aeronauts--these divers in air--the complete apparatus which they require to raise themselves to any height, direct their movements, and maintain themselves at will? Have not these little animals resolved this problem for centuries? Yet the present state of aerostation does not afford ground sufficient for comparison.

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We are, therefore, reduced to conjecture; and, if I may be permitted to express mine, this is what I think:

I believe that spiders rise to the same height where on the fine days of summer one can see the swallows and martins hover, almost lost to sight, in pursuit of gnats that people these regions of the atmosphere. I found this belief on the webs of spiders seen falling in autumn, that seem to come at least from nearly such heights. They begin to be seen at a hundred or a hundred and fifty yards, and there is no great temerity in affirming that they have already traversed a good part of their course. An observation made in 1864, if conclusive, would tend to make remoter still the habitation of spiders; for the fog that determined the fall that year was a _high_ fog, that is to say, one of those uniform mists that hide the sky for several days together, and seem to extend to a great height. But, I repeat, this is all conjecture. One good observation would have been worth far more.'

V.

Conjectures On The Mode Of Building
Of Spiders In The Air.

Perhaps here I should stop, and, having stated facts, leave to others their explanation. How do spiders sustain themselves in the air? How can they so long brave the winds, the rains, the storms; arrange their webs in emptiness and without apparent means of support? Prudence counsels me to avoid these questions, but my _rôle_ of simple observer permits them. However, in waiting for better things, I decide still to hazard some conjectures, were it only to prove that a fact once admitted, it would not be absolutely impossible for the wisest to explain it.

The first idea that came to me was that these spider-webs raise themselves in the air as the kites of children, and, made fast to the tops of trees and edifices by long threads, they are sustained by their own lightness. This idea was suggested to me by a sight I was witness to one day at the Seminary of Vals, near Le Puy. From a corner where I was in shadow, I perceived distinctly on each high ridge of the roof, lightened by the rays of the sun, long threads which rose perpendicularly in the air, like large cords, balancing themselves slowly right and left, without ever going out of a certain field of oscillation. But I soon gave up this idea. How admit, in truth, that on two or three threads, and without any other means of support, spiders could weave their true webs? Would not some of these aerial constructions tumble down every day, ruined by their own weight? while it is acknowledged they only fall in autumn, and always together.

I therefore rather incline to believe that the spiders are sustained in the air by the distention of an interior vesicle, analogous to that of fish, and that they ejaculate by their threads, which are numerous, and pierced with an infinity of little tubes, large bundles of threads, by which are taken the insects that serve for their prey; that they resist the winds as fish do the tossing of the sea, and their threads, being glutinous, are not dampened by the rain; and also being excellent conductors of caloric, as is proved by the abundant drops of dew which they pearl near the earth, on the hedges, etc.; and if after a calm night they are touched by an autumn fog, these heavy and moistened threads weaken and fall one over the other, and form the silky flakes that are seen from ten to eleven o'clock in the morning, flying about in cloudy days with the spiders who inhabited them during the summer. {422} This, hoping for better, is the explanation I hazard, and I submit it with the rest to the appreciation of competent men. If only these pages attract attention to a merited subject, and provoke numerous observations, which alone can ever fully elucidate it, the author will be more than repaid for the few researches he has presented in this article.

--------

Translated From The "Revue Du Monde Catholique."

John Tauler.

By Ernest Hello.

History has an astonishing memory. She records the day and hour of battles with exact fidelity. She knows a thousand things. She has recently discovered, if I do not mistake, the name of Julian the Apostate's cook. She remembers everything of little importance. The names of celebrated mistresses who have amused or poisoned renowned personages, are transmitted from age to age. Erudition has been making strides during the last hundred years, as if she had seven-leagued boots. To deserve the admiration and gratitude of mankind, however, she should not have degraded herself, but taken a higher sphere in her progress. Her memory indicates greatness of genius; but she is like calumny, she increases in size as she advances through the centuries. In her labors, researches, and exploits, she has been mostly busied with soldiers, and frequently forgotten God and man. She could not think of everything at once; the hidden history of humanity is yet to be written; the greatest events of the world are secret to this very day; and those who reflect on them are men of a special caste.

If there were question of the battle of Marathon, or of Antony and Cleopatra, our contemporaries would be found well instructed; but do they know John Tauler, the German Tauler, of the Dominican or preaching order?

Master Tauler was a great preacher--powerful and popular. One day he gave a learned discourse, in which he taught the way of perfection, with all his characteristic assurance. To become perfect, he enumerated twenty-four conditions, which he developed before an attentive and brilliant audience. After the sermon, a layman, one of the poorest and most ignorant of his hearers, came to him. History, by one of those distractions so usual for her to have, when there is question of God, has forgotten the name of this individual. This simple layman said to Tauler:

"Master, the letter kills, and the spirit gives life; but you are a Pharisee."

Doctor Tauler: "My son, I am now old, and no one has ever spoken to me in this manner."

The Layman: "You think I speak too bluntly to you; but it is your own fault; and I can prove that what I say to you is true."

Doctor Tauler: "You will do me a favor, for I have never loved the Pharisees."

{423}

Then the layman, probing into the doctor's mental condition, showed him that he was held captive by the mere letter of the evangelical law, and devoid of its spirit.

"You are a Pharisee," proceeded the layman, "but not a hypocritical Pharisee. You are not on the road to hell, but on that which leads to purgatory."

Doctor Tauler embraced the man, and said to him: "I feel at this moment as the Samaritan woman must have felt at the well; you have revealed to me all my faults, my son; you have told all that was most secret in my soul. Who, then, has told you? It is God; I am convinced it must be so. I entreat you, my son, by the death of our Lord, to be my spiritual father, and I, a poor sinner, will become your son."

The Layman: "Dear master, if you speak thus contrary to order and reason, I shall not remain with you any longer, but straightway return to my own house."

Doctor Tauler: "Oh! no. I beg you, in the name of God, to stay with me, and I promise not to speak thus again."

The docility of Tauler is sublime and touching. His great good will, which broke the pride of science, led him into the paths of spiritual contemplation.

"Tell me, I conjure you, in the name of God," said Tauler, "how you have succeeded in arriving at the contemplative state?"

The Layman: "You ask me a very odd question. I confess to you frankly that, if I should recount or write all the wonderful things which God has been doing to me, a poor sinner, for twelve years, there would be no book large enough to contain them."

The layman then recounted how he had been deceived in his spiritual life; how, influenced by Satan, he had practised imprudent austerities, which would have injured both his body and soul; and how, warned by God, he had returned to the paths of wisdom.

Both Tauler and the layman were then lifted up to the regions of contemplation. The unknown monitor then said: "If the God whom we worship could be comprehended by reason, he would not be worthy of our service."

But before his great illumination, Tauler suffered during two years frightful temptations. Abandoned, poor, suffering, that man of iron was shaken like a reed. The layman comes to his assistance, and sustains in his time of misery him whom he had crushed in his period of pride.

"For the first time," said the layman, "God has touched your superior faculties."