The Life of the Spider

The Spider has a bad name: to most of us, she represents an odious, noxious animal, which every one hastens to crush under foot. Against this summary verdict theobserver sets the beast's industry, its talent as a weaver, its wiliness in the chase, itstragic nuptials and other characteristics of great interest. Yes, the Spider is well worthstudying, apart from any scientific reasons; but she is said to be poisonous and that isher crime and the primary cause of the repugnance wherewith she inspiresus. Poisonous, I agree, if by that we understand that the animal is armed with two fangswhich cause the immediate death of the little victims which it catches; but there is awide difference between killing a Midge and harming a man. However immediate in itseffects upon the insect entangled in the fatal web, the Spider's poison is not serious forus and causes less inconvenience than a Gnat-bite. That, at least, is what we cansafely say as regards the great majority of the Spiders of our regions. Nevertheless, a few are to be feared; and foremost among these is the Malmignatte, theterror of the Corsican peasantry. I have seen her settle in the furrows, lay out her weband rush boldly at insects larger than herself; I have admired her garb of black velvetspeckled with carmine-red; above all, I have heard most disquieting stories told abouther. Around Ajaccio and Bonifacio, her bite is reputed very dangerous, sometimesmortal. The countryman declares this for a fact and the doctor does not always daredeny it. In the neighbourhood of Pujaud, not far from Avignon, the harvesters speakwith dread of Theridion lugubre, first observed by Léon Dufour in the Catalonianmountains; according to them, her bite would lead to serious accidents. The Italianshave bestowed a bad reputation on the Tarantula, who produces convulsions andfrenzied dances in the person stung by her. To cope with 'tarantism, ' the name given tothe disease that follows on the bite of the Italian Spider, you must have recourse tomusic, the only efficacious remedy, so they tell us. Special tunes have been noted, those quickest to afford relief. There is medical choreography, medical music. Andhave we not the tarentella, a lively and nimble dance, bequeathed to us perhaps by thehealing art of the Calabrian peasant?Must we take these queer things seriously or laugh at them? From the little that I haveseen, I hesitate to pronounce an opinion. Nothing tells us that the bite of the Tarantulamay not provoke, in weak and very impressionable people, a nervous disorder whichmusic will relieve; nothing tells us that a profuse perspiration, resulting from a veryenergetic dance, is not likely to diminish the discomfort by diminishing the cause of theailment. So far from laughing, I reflect and enquire, when the Calabrian peasant talks tome of his Tarantula, the Pujaud reaper of his Theridion lugubre, the Corsicanhusbandman of his Malmignatte. Those Spiders might easily deserve, at least partly, their terrible reputation.