THE LANGUEDOCIAN SCORPION: THE PAIRING
June sets in. For fear of a disturbance caused by too brilliant an
illumination, I have hitherto kept the lantern hung outside, at some
distance from the pane. The insufficient light does not allow me to
observe certain details of the manner in which the couple are linked
when strolling. Do they both play an active part in the scheme of the
clasped hands? Are their fingers mutually interlinked? Or is only one
of the pair active; and, if so, which? Let us ascertain exactly; the
thing is not without importance.
I place the lantern inside, in the centre of the cage. There is good
light everywhere. Far from being scared, the Scorpions are gayer than
ever. They come hurrying round the beacon; some even try to climb up,
so as to be nearer the flame. They succeed in doing so by means of the
framework containing the glass panes. They hang on to the edges of the
tin strips and stubbornly, heedless of slipping, end by reaching the
top. There, motionless, lying partly on the glass, partly on the
support of the metal casing, they gaze the whole evening long,
fascinated by the burning wick. They remind me of the Great Peacock
Moths that used to hang in ecstasy under the reflector of my lamp. [43]
At the foot of the beacon, in the full light, a couple lose no time in
standing on their heads. The two fence prettily with their tails and
then go a strolling. The male alone acts. With the two fingers of each
claw, he has seized the two fingers of the corresponding claw of the
Scorpioness bundled together. He alone exerts himself and squeezes; he
alone is at liberty to break the team when he likes: he has but to open
his pincers. The female cannot do this; she is a prisoner, handcuffed
by her ravisher.
In rather infrequent cases, one may see even more remarkable things. I
have caught the Scorpion dragging his sweetheart along by the two
fore-arms; I have seen him pull her by one leg and the tail. She had
resisted the advances of the outstretched hand; and the bully,
forgetful of all reserve, had thrown her on her side and clawed hold of
her at random. The thing is quite clear: we have to do with a regular
rape, abduction with violence. Even so did Romulus’ youths rape the
Sabine women.
The brutal ravisher is singularly persistent in his feats of prowess,
when we remember that things end tragically sooner or later. The ritual
demands that he shall be eaten after the wedding. What a strange world,
in which the victim drags the sacrificer by main force to the altar!
From one evening to the next, I become aware that the more corpulent
females in my menagerie hardly ever take part in the sport of the
linked team; it is nearly always the young, slim-waisted ones to whom
the ardent strollers pay their addresses. They must have sprightly
flappers. True, there are moments when they have interviews with the
others, accompanied by strokes of the tail and attempts at harnessing;
but these are brief displays, devoid of any great fervour. No sooner is
she seized by the fingers than the portly temptress, with a blow of her
tail, rebukes the untimely familiarity. The rejected suitor retires
from the contest without insisting further. They go their several ways.
The big-bellied ones are therefore elderly matrons, indifferent
nowadays to the effusive manners of the pairing-season. This time last
year and perhaps even before, they had their own good spell; and that
is enough for them henceforth. The female Scorpion’s period of
gestation is consequently extraordinarily long, longer than will be
often found even among animals of a higher order. It takes her a year
or more to mature her germs.
Let us return to the couple whom we have just seen forming up beneath
the lantern. I inspect them at six o’clock the next morning. They are
under the tile linked precisely as though for a stroll, that is to say,
face to face and with clasped fingers. While I watch them, a second
pair forms and begins to wander to and fro. The early hour of the
expedition surprises me: I had never seen such an incident in broad
daylight and was seldom to see it again. As a rule it is at nightfall
that the Scorpions go strolling in couples. Whence this hurry to-day?
I seem to catch a glimpse of the reason. It is stormy weather; in the
afternoon, there is incessant, very mild thunder. St. Mèdard, whose
feast fell yesterday, is opening his flood-gates wide; it pours all
night. The great electric tension and the smell of ozone have stirred
up the sleepy hermits, who, nervously irritated, for the most part come
to the threshold of their cells, stretching their questioning claws
outside and enquiring into the condition of things. Two, more violently
excited than the others, have come out, influenced by the intoxication
of the pairing which is enhanced by the intoxication of the storm; they
suited each other; and here they are solemnly marching to the sound of
the thunder-claps.
They pass before open huts and try to go in. The owner objects. He
appears in the doorway, shaking his fists, and his action seems to say:
“Go somewhere else; this place is taken.”
They go away. They meet with the same refusal at other doors, the same
threats from the occupant. At last, for want of anything better, they
make their way under the tile where the first couple have been lodging
since the day before.
The cohabitation entails no quarrelling; the first settlers and the
newcomers, side by side, keep very quiet, each couple absorbed in
meditation, completely motionless, with fingers still clasped. And this
goes on all day. At five o’clock in the evening, the couples separate.
Anxious apparently to take part in the usual twilight rejoicings, the
males leave the shelter; the females, on the other hand, remain under
the tile. Nothing, so far as I know, has happened during the long
interview, nothing despite the stimulating effects of the thunderstorm.
This fourfold occupation of one dwelling is not an isolated instance:
groups, regardless of sex, are not infrequent under the potsherds in
the glass cage. I have already said that, in their original homes, I
have never found two Scorpions under one stone. We must not infer from
this that unsociable habits prohibit all intercourse among neighbours;
we should be making a mistake: the glazed enclosure tells us so. There
are cabins in more than sufficient numbers; each Scorpion would be able
to choose himself a dwelling and thenceforth to occupy it as the
jealous owner. Nothing of the kind takes place. Once the nocturnal
excitement sets in, there is no such thing as a home respected by
others. Everything is common property. Whoever wishes to slip under the
first tile that offers does so without protest from the occupant. The
Scorpions go abroad, walk about and enter any house they may chance
upon. In this way, when the twilight diversions are over, groups of
three, four, or sometimes more are formed without distinction of sex
and, packed pretty closely in the narrow home, spend the rest of the
night and the whole of the following day together. For that matter,
theirs is only a temporary shanty, which is exchanged next evening for
another, according to the strollers’ fancy. And these roving gipsies
live quite peaceably. There is never any serious strife between them,
even when they are five or six in the same messroom.
Now this tolerance prevails only in the adults, due, no doubt, to some
degree, to the fear of reprisals. There is another and more imperative
reason for peaceful relations: concord is a necessity in assemblies at
which the future is being prepared. The Scorpions’ characters therefore
become assuaged, but not entirely: there are always perverse appetites
among the females who are about to enter upon the period of gestation.
I have always present in my mind the memory of the following odious
spectacles. A heedless male, who has attained hardly a third or a
fourth of his final size, is passing, unthinking, of evil, before the
door of a dwelling. The fat matron comes out, accosts the poor wretch,
picks him up in her claws, kills him with her sting and then quietly
eats him.
Scorpion lads and lasses, the one sooner, the other later, perish in
the same manner in the glass cage. I scruple to replace the deceased:
it would be providing fresh food for the slaughter. There were a dozen
of them; and in a few days I have not one left. Without the excuse of
hunger, for the regular victuals are plentiful, the females have
devoured them all. Youth is certainly a beautiful thing, but it has
terrible drawbacks in the society of these ogresses.
I would gladly ascribe these massacres to the peculiar cravings often
provoked by pregnancy. The future mother is suspicious and intolerant;
to her everything is an enemy, to be got rid of by eating it, when
strength permits. And indeed, when the quickly emancipated family is
born, in the middle of August, a profound peace reigns in the
menagerie. My vigilance is unable to surprise a single case of these
outbreaks of cannibalism which used to occur so often.
On the other hand, the males, indifferent to the safety of the family,
know nothing of these tragic frenzies. They are peaceful creatures,
blunt in their manners, but in any event incapable of ripping up their
fellows. We never see two rivals disputing in mortal combat, for the
possession of the coveted bride. Things happen, if not mildly, at least
without blows of the dagger.
Two suitors come upon the same Scorpioness. Which of the two will
propose to her and take her for a walk? The point will be decided by
strength of wrist.
Each takes the beauty by the hand nearest to him with the fingers of
one claw. One standing on the right, the other on the left, they pull
with all their might in opposite directions. The legs, braced
backwards, exert a powerful leverage; the flanks quiver; the tails sway
to and fro and suddenly dart forward. Now for it! They tug at the
Scorpioness by fits and starts with sudden backward runs; it is as
though they meant to pull her in two and each to carry off a piece. A
declaration of love implies a threat to rend her asunder.
On the other hand, there is no direct exchange of fisticuffs between
them, not even a back-hander with the tail. Only the victim is
ill-treated and roughly at that. To see these lunatics struggling, you
would think that their arms would be torn out. Nevertheless, there are
no dislocations.
Weary of an ineffectual contest, the two competitors at last take each
other by the hands that remain at liberty: they form a chain of three
and resume the process of jerking and tugging more violently than ever.
Each of them bustles to and fro, advances, recoils and pulls his
hardest till he is exhausted. Suddenly, the more fatigued of the two
throws up the sponge and runs away, leaving his adversary in possession
of the object of their passions so vehemently disputed. Then, with his
free claw, the victor completes the team and the stroll begins. As for
the vanquished, we will not trouble about him: he will soon have found
something in the crowd to make amends for his confusion.
I will give you another instance of these meek encounters between
rivals. A couple are walking along. The male is of medium size, but
nevertheless very eager at the game. When his companion refuses to
advance, he pulls at her with jerks which send shudders along his
spine. A second male, larger than the first, appears upon the scene.
The lady takes his fancy; he desires her. Will he abuse his strength,
fling himself on the little chap, beat him, perhaps stab him? By no
means. Among Scorpions these delicate matters are not decided by force
of arms.
The burly fellow leaves the dwarf alone. He goes straight to the
coveted fair and seizes her by the tail. Then the two vie with each
other in pulling, one in front, the other behind. A brief contest
follows, leaving each of them the master of a claw. With frantic
violence, one works on the right, the other on the left, as though they
wished to pull the dame to pieces. At length the smaller realizes that
he is beaten; he lets go and makes off. The big one lays hold of the
abandoned prey; and the team takes the road without further incident.
Thus, evening after evening, for four months, from the end of April to
the beginning of September, the preludes to the pairing are
indefatigably repeated. The scorching dog-days do not calm these unruly
lovers; on the contrary, they inflame them with new ardour. In the
spring, I used to surprise the pilgrims’ tandems singly, at long
intervals; in July I observe them by threes and fours at a time, on the
same evening.
I take the opportunity, with not much success, to enquire what goes on
under the tiles where the strolling couples take refuge; my wish is to
see the details of the tender interview from start to finish. It does
me no good to turn over the potsherd, even during the quiet hours of
the night. I have tried often and in vain. When deprived of their roof,
the linked couples resume their ramble and make for another shelter,
where the impossibility of prolonged observation obtains once more.
Special circumstances, independent of any intervention on our part, are
needed to make the delicate undertaking succeed.
To-day these circumstances are present. At seven o’clock in the
morning, on the 3rd of July, a couple attracts my attention, a couple
whom I saw forming, walking about and selecting a home on the previous
evening. The male is under the tile, quite invisible save for the tips
of his claws. The cabin was too small to shelter the two. He went in;
she, with her mighty paunch, remained outside, clutched by the fingers
by her companion.
The tail, curved into a wide arc, is bent slackly to one side, with the
point of the sting resting on the ground. The eight legs, firmly
planted, are drawn backwards, marking a tendency to escape. The whole
body is completely motionless. I inspect the fat Scorpioness twenty
times in the course of the day, without perceiving the least movement
of the hinder part, the least change in the attitude, the least flexion
in the curve of the tail. The animal could be no more lifeless if
turned to stone.
The male, on his side, is no more active. Though I cannot see him, I at
least observe his fingers, which would tell me of any change of
posture. And this petrified condition, which has lasted for the best
part of the night, persists all day, until eight o’clock in the
evening. What do they feel, facing each other thus? What are they
doing, motionless with clasped fingers? If the expression were
allowable, I should say that they are meditating profoundly. It is the
only term that more or less represents what I see. But no human
language could have words fit to convey the bliss, the ecstasy of the
Scorpions thus coupled by the finger-tips. Let us remain silent upon
that which we cannot possibly understand.
A little before eight o’clock, when the animation outside the house is
already approaching its height, the female suddenly moves; she
struggles and, with an effort, contrives to release herself. She flees,
with one of the pincers bent back towards her and the other stretched
out. To break her seductive bonds, she pulled with such violence that
she put one of her shoulders out of joint. She flees, feeling her way
with the uninjured claw. The male runs off too. All is over for this
evening.
These rambles in pairs, which are customary in the evening all through
the summer, are evidently the preliminaries to more serious affairs.
The strollers inspect each other, display their graces, show off their
qualities before coming to conclusions. But when does the decisive
moment arrive? My patience is exhausted in waiting for it; I vainly
prolong my vigils and turn over potsherd after potsherd, in my anxiety
at last to know the exact part played by the combs; my hopes remain
unfulfilled.
It is at a very late hour in the night that the marriage is
consummated: of that I have no doubt whatever. If I had any chance of
arriving at the right moment, I would struggle against sleep till break
of day: my old eyelids are still capable of doing so when the
acquisition of an idea is at stake. But how hazardous my perseverance
would be!
I am very well aware, having seen it over and over again, that, in the
vast majority of cases, we find the couple next morning, under the
tile, harnessed together just as they were on the evening before. To
succeed, I should have to upset the habits of a lifetime and lie in
wait every night for three or four months on end. The plan is beyond my
strength: and I give it up.
Once only did I obtain an inkling of the solution of the problem. At
the moment when I lift the stone, the male is turning over without
releasing the clasp of his hands; with his belly upturned, he slowly
slides backwards under his mate. [44] Even so does the Cricket behave
when his pleadings at last obtain a hearing. In this posture, the
couple would only have to steady themselves, probably with the teeth of
their combs, to achieve their ends. But, startled by the violation of
their home, the superimposed twain separate then and there. From the
little that I have seen, it seems likely, therefore, that the Scorpions
end their mating in an attitude similar to that of the Crickets. In
addition they have their hands clasped and their combs interlocked.
I am better informed of subsequent events within the cell. Let us mark
the tiles under which the couples take refuge in the evening, after
their stroll. What do we find next morning? As a rule, precisely the
same linked couple as the day before, face to face, with fingers
united.
Sometimes the female is alone. The male, having finished his business,
has found means to release himself and go away. He had grave reasons
for cutting short the transports of the alcove. Especially in May, the
time of the most ardent enjoyment, I often indeed find the female
nibbling and relishing her deceased mate.
Who committed the murder? The Scorpioness, evidently. These are the
atrocious customs of the Praying Mantis: [45] the lover is stabbed and
then eaten, if he does not retire in time. By the exercise of
nimbleness and decision, he can do so sometimes, not always. He is able
to release his hands, for it is his that squeeze; by lifting his
thumbs, he unclasps them. But there remains the diabolical little
mechanism of the combs, an apparatus of sensual pleasure, now a trap.
On both sides the long teeth of this interlocking gear, closely fitting
and perhaps spasmodically contracted, refuse to come apart as promptly
as could be wished. The poor fellow is lost.
He has a poisoned dagger similar to that which threatens him: can he,
does he know how to defend himself? It seems as though he cannot, for
he is always the victim. It is possible that his reversed posture
hinders him in wielding his tail, which he must curve over his back if
he wishes to bring it into play. Perhaps also an insuperable instinct
prevents him from putting the future mother to death. He allows himself
to be pinked by the terrible bride; he perishes without defence.
The widow forthwith begins to eat him. It is a part of the ritual, as
with the Spiders, who, deprived of the Scorpion’s fatal engine, at
least leave the males time to escape if they are prompt enough in
forming a decision.
The funeral repast, though frequent, is not indispensable; whether the
male is devoured depends a little on the condition of the female’s
stomach. I have seen some who, despising the nuptial morsel, frugally
swallowed the head of the deceased and then flung the corpse outside,
without touching it again. I have seen these furies carry their dead
husband at arm’s length, dragging him about the whole morning, in sight
of all, like a trophy, and then, without further ceremony, leaving him
untouched and abandoning him to those eager dissectors, the Ants.