fection of their nature; when no longer confined to the earth, they can traverse the fields of air, their food is the nectar of flowers, and love begins his blissful reign; who that witnesses this interesting scene can help seeing in it a lively representation of man in his threefold state of existence, and more especially of that happy day, when, at the call of the great Sun of Righteousness, all that are in the graves shall come forth, the sea shall give up her dead, and death being swallowed up of life, the nations of the blessed shall live and love to the ages of eternity?" But although the analogy between the different state of insects and those of the body of man is only general, yet it is much more complete with respect to his soul. He first appears in his frail body—a child of the earth, a crawling worm, his soul being in a course of training and preparation for a more perfect and glorious existence. Its course being finished, it casts off the earthly body, and goes into a hidden state of being in Hades, where it rests from its works, and is prepared for its final consummation. The time for this being arrived, it comes forth clothed with a glorious body, not like its former, though germinating from it, for, though "it is sown an animal body, it shall be raised a spiritual body," endowed with augmented powers, faculties, and privileges commensurate to its new and happy state. And here the parallel holds perfectly between the insect and the man. The butterfly, the representative of the soul, is prepared in the larva for its future state of glory; and if it be not destroyed by the ichneumons and other enemies to which it is exposed, symbolical of the vices that destroy the spiritual life of the soul, it will come to its state of repose in the pupa, which is its Hades; and at length, when it assumes the imago, break forth with new powers and beauty to its final glory and the reign of love. So that in this view of the subject well might the Italian poet exclaim: Non v' accorgete voi, che noi siam' vermi, The Egyptian fable, as it is supposed to be, of Cupid and Psyche, seems built upon this foundation. "Psyche," says an ingenious and learned writer," means in Greek the human soul; and it means also a butterfly 2, of which apparently strange double sense the undoubted reason is, that a butterfly was a very ancient symbol of the soul: from the prevalence of this symbol, and the consequent coincidence of the names, it happened that the Greek sculptors frequently represented Psyche as subject to Cupid in the shape of a butterfly; and that even when she appears in their works under the human form, we find her decorated with the light and filmy wings of that gay insect." 3 The following beautiful little poem falls in so exactly with the subject I have been discussing, that I cannot resist the temptation I feel to copy it 1 Do you not perceive that we are caterpillars, born to form the angelic butterfly? 2 It is worthy of remark, that in the north and west of England the moths that fly into candles are called saules (souls), perhaps from the old notion that the souls of the dead fly about at night in search of light. For the same reason, probably the common people in Germany call them ghosts (Geistchen). 3 Nares's Essays, i. 101, 102. for you, especially as I am not aware that it has appeared anywhere but in a newspaper : THE BUTTERFLY'S BIRTH-DAY. BY THE AUTHOR OF "THE BUTTERFLY'S BALL." The shades of night were scarcely fled; From fleecy clouds of pearly hue Had dropt a short but balmy shower, And from the blackbird's mellow throat From mountain side and shadowy dell. No infant wretchedness she knew; At once to full perfection grew. Her slender form, ethereal light, Her velvet-textured wings infold; And wondered at her plumage gay! And balanced oft her broidered wings, Go, child of pleasure, range the fields, Go, sip the rose's fragrant dew, The lily's honeyed cup explore, And let me trace thy vagrant flight, -They cease-but still a voice I hear, "Prepare thee, mortal!-thou must die! "Yet start not!-on thy closing eyes "A happier age of joys untold. "Shall the poor worm that shocks thy sight, "And shalt thou, number'd with the dead, "Go, mortal! in thy reptile state, "Frail child of earth! high heir of heaven!" A question here naturally presents itself Why are insects subject to these changes? For what end is it that, instead of preserving, like other animals1, the same general form from infancy to old age, they appear at one period under a shape so different from that which they finally assume; and why should they pass through an intermediate state of torpidity so extraordinary? I can only answer that such is the will of the Creator, who doubtless had the wisest ends in view, although we are incompetent satisfactorily to discover them. Yet one reason for this conformation may be hazarded. A very important part assigned to insects in the economy of nature, as I shall hereafter show, is that of speedily removing superabundant and de 1 A few vertebrate animals, viz. frogs, toads, and newts, undergo metamorphoses in some respects analogous to those of insects; their first form as tadpoles being very different from that which they afterwards assume. These reptiles, too, as well as snakes, cast their skin by an operation somewhat similar to that in larva. There is nothing, however, in their metamorphoses at all resembling the pupa state in insects. (See, however, Von Baer's article on the Analogies of the Transformations of Insects and the Higher Animals in the Annales des Sciences Nat.) According to Mr. J. V. Thompson, both the common barnacles and many crustacea undergo metamorphoses, but to what extent these changes take place in the latter does not seem clearly ascertained. caying animal and vegetable matter. For such agents an insatiable voracity is an indispensable qualification, and not less so unusual powers of multiplication. But these faculties are in a great degree incompatible. An insect occupied in the work of reproduction could not continue its voracious feeding. Its life, therefore, after leaving the egg, is divided into three stages. In the first, as larva, it is in a state of sterility; its sole object is the satisfying its insatiable hunger; and, for digesting the masses of food which it consumes, its intestines are almost all stomach. This is usually by much the longest period of its existence. Having now laid up a store of materials for the development of the future perfect insect, it becomes a pupa; and during this inactive period the important process slowly proceeds, uninterrupted by the calls of appetite. At length the perfect insect is disclosed. It now often requires no food at all; and scarcely ever more than a very small quantity; for the reception of which its stomach has been contracted, in some instances, to a tenth of its former bulk. Its almost sole object is now the multiplication of its kind, from which it is diverted by no other propensity; and this important duty being performed, the end of its existence has been answered, and it expires. It must be confessed that some objections might be thrown out against this hypothesis, yet I think none that would not admit of a plausible answer. To these it is foreign to my purpose now to attend, and I shall conclude this letter by pointing out to you the variety of new relations which this arrangement introduces into nature. One individual unites in itself, in fact, three species, whose modes of existence are often as different as those of the most distantly related animals of other tribes. The same insect often lives successively in three or four worlds. It is an inhabitant of the water during one period; of the earth during another; and of the air during a third; and fitted for its various abodes by new organs and instruments, and a new form in each. Think (to use an illustration of Bonnet) but of the cocoon of the silk-worm! How many hands, how many machines does not this little ball put into motion! Of what riches should we not have been deprived, if the moth of the silk-worm had been born a moth, without having been previously a caterpillar! The domestic economy of a large portion of mankind would have been formed on a plan altogether different from that which now prevails. I am, &c. 42 LETTER IV. INJURIES CAUSED BY INSECTS. DIRECT INJURIES. In the letter which I devoted to the defence of Entomology, I gave you reason to expect, more effectually to obviate the objection drawn from the supposed insignificance of insects, that I should enter largely into the question of their importance to us both as instruments of good and evil. This I shall now attempt; and, as I wish to leave upon your mind a pleasant impression with respect to my favourites, I shall begin with the last of these subjects-the injury which they do to us. The Almighty ordains various instruments for the punishment of offending nations; sometimes he breaks them to pieces with the iron rod of war; at others the elements are let loose against them; earthquakes and floods of fire, at his word, bring sudden destruction upon them; seasons unfriendly to vegetation threaten them with famine; the blight and mildew realise these threats; and often, the more to manifest and glorify his power, he employs means, at first sight, apparently the most insignificant and inadequate to effect their ruin; the numerous tribes of insects are his armies1, marshalled by him, and by his irresistible command impelled to the work of destruction: where he directs them they lay waste the earth, and famine and the pestilence often follow in their train. The generality of mankind overlook or disregard these powerful, because minute, dispensers of punishment; seldom considering in how many ways their welfare is affected by them; but the fact is certain, that should it please God to give them a general commission against us, and should he excite them to attack, at the same time, our bodies, our clothing, our houses, our cattle, and the produce of our fields and gardens, we should soon be reduced, in every possible respect, to a state of extreme wretchedness; the prey of the most filthy and disgusting diseases, divested of a covering, unsheltered, except by caves and dungeons, from the inclemency of the seasons, exposed to all the extremities of want and famine; and in the end, as Sir Joseph Banks, speaking on this subject, has well observed2, driven with all the larger animals from the face of the earth. You may smile, perhaps, and think this a high-coloured picture, but you will recollect, I am not stating the mischiefs that insects commonly do, but what they would do, according to all probability, if certain counter-checks restraining them within due limits had not been put in action; and which they actually do, as you will see, in particular cases, when those counterchecks are diminished or removed. Insects may be said, without hyperbole, to have established a kind of universal empire over the earth and its inhabitants. This is principally 1 Joel, ii. 25. 2 On the Blight in Corn, p. 9. |