INTRODUCTION.

“The edifice of the world is only sustained by the impulses of hunger and love.”—Schiller.

In that great drama which we call Nature, each animal plays its especial part, and He who has adjusted and regulated everything in its due order and proportion, watches with as much care over the preservation of the most repulsive insect, as over the young brood of the most brilliant bird. Each, as it comes into the world, thoroughly knows its part, and plays it the better because it is more free to obey the dictates of its instinct. There presides over this great drama of life a law as harmonious as that which regulates the movements of the heavenly bodies; and if death carries off from the scene every hour myriads of living creatures, each hour life causes new legions to rise up in order to replace them. It is a whirlwind of being, a chain without end.

This is now more fully known; whatever the animal may be, whether that which occupies the highest or the lowest place in the scale of creation, it consumes water and carbon, and albumen sustains its vital force.

The study whose aim is to make us acquainted with the kind of food adapted to each animal constitutes an interesting branch of Natural History. The bill of fare of every animal is written beforehand in indelible characters on each specific type; and these characters are less difficult for the naturalist to decipher than are palimpsests for the archæologist.

Under the form of bones or scales, of feathers or shells, they show themselves in the digestive organs. It is by paying, not domiciliary, but stomachic visits, that we must be initiated into the details of this domestic economy. The bill of fare of fossil animals, though written in characters less distinct and complete, can still be very frequently read in the substance of their coprolites. We do not despair even to find some day the fishes and the crustaceans which were chased by the plesiosaurs and the ichthyosaurs, and to discover some parasitic worms which had entered with them into the convolutions of the intestines of the saurians.

We find, on closer examination, more than one analogy between the animal world and human society; and without much careful scrutiny, we may say that there is no social position which has not (if I may dare to use the expression) its counterpart among the lower animals.

The greater part of these live peaceably on the fruit of their labour, and carry on a trade by which they gain their livelihood; but by the side of these honest workers we find also some miserable wretches who cannot do without the assistance of their neighbours, and who establish themselves, some as parasites in their organs, others as uninvited guests, by the side of the booty which they have gained.

To whom do the manufacturers of Verviers or of Lyons, of Ghent or of Manchester, apply for their raw materials? Either to an animal or a plant; and even up to the present time we have had sufficient modesty not to have sought to imitate either wool or cotton. Yet these animal manufacturers carry on their operations every day under our eyes, the doors wide open to everybody, and none of them is as yet marked with the trite expression, “No admittance.”

Were these animal machines to sustain injury, or even to be idle for a certain time, we should be reduced to have nothing wherewith to cover our shoulders: the fine lady would have neither Cashmere shawl, silk, nor velvet in her wardrobe; we should have neither flannel nor cloth to make our clothes; the herdsman even would not have his goat’s skin to protect him from the inclemency of the season. Thanks to the animal which gives us his flesh and his fleece, we are able to leave the southern regions, to brave the rigour of other climes, and establish ourselves side by side with the reindeer and the narwhal, in the midst of eternal snow.

We have our science and our steam-engines, of which we are justly proud; the animals have only their simple instinct to enable them to fabricate their marvellous tissues, and yet they succeed better than ourselves. The so-called blind forces of nature produce thread, the use of which the genius of man seeks in vain to supersede; and we do not even dream of entering into competition with these living machines which we daily crush under our feet.

But side by side with these independent existences, there are a certain number which, without being parasites, cannot live without assistance, and which demand from their neighbours, sometimes only a resting-place in order to fish by their side, sometimes a place at their table, that they may partake with them of their daily food; we find some every day which used to be considered parasites, yet which by no means live at the expense of their hosts.

The services of many of these are rewarded either in protection or in kind, and mutuality can well be exercised at the same time as hospitality.

But when the larva of an ichneumon devours, organ after organ, the caterpillar which serves him as a nurse, and at last eats her entirely, can we call him a parasite? According to Lepelletier de Saint-Fargeau, who has so successfully treated these questions, the parasite is he who lives at the expense of another, eating that which belongs to him, but not devouring his nurse herself. Nor is the ichneumon a carnivorous animal, for the true beast of prey cares nothing at any period of his existence for the life of his victim.

True parasites are very commonly found in nature, and we should be wrong were we to consider that they all live a sad and monotonous life. Some among them are so active and vigilant that they sustain themselves during the greater part of their life, and only seek for assistance at certain determinate periods. They are not, as has been supposed, exceptional and strange beings, without any other organs than those of self-preservation. There is not, as was formerly supposed, a class of parasites, but all the classes of the animal kingdom include some among their inferior ranks.

We may divide them into different categories.

We find others, the ichneumons for example, which are perfectly at liberty in their old age, but require protection while young. There are many of these, which as soon as they escape from the egg, are literally put out to nurse; but from the day when they cast off their larval robe, they are no longer under restraint, but, armed cap-à-pie, they rush eagerly in quest of adventure, and die like others on the high road. In this category are generally found parasitical hymenopterous and dipterous insects.

That which adds to the interest inspired by these feeble and timid beings is, that at each change of abode, they change also their costume; and that when they have reached the limit of their peregrinations, they assume the virile toga—we had almost said, the wedding robe. The sexes appear only under this later envelope; up to this period they have had no thoughts of the cares of a family. It has always been somewhat difficult to establish the identity of those persons who frequent the public saloons one day, and are found on the next in the most obscure haunts, dressed as mendicants. Most of the worms which have the form of a leaf or a tape give themselves up to these peregrinations, and those which do not arrive at their last stage, die usually without posterity.

In the last category are found those which need assistance all their lives; as soon as they have penetrated into the body of their host, they never remove again, and the lodging which they have chosen serves them both as a cradle and a tomb.

Some years since, no one suspected that a parasite could live in any other animal than that in which it was discovered. All helminthologists, with few exceptions, looked upon worms in the interior of the body as formed without parents in the same organs which they occupy. Worms which are parasites of fish, had been seen a long time before this in the intestines of various birds: experiments had even been made to satisfy observers of the possibility of these creatures passing from one body to another; but all these experiments had only given a negative result, and the idea of inevitable transmigration was so completely unknown that Bremser, the first helminthologist of his age, raised the cry of heresy, when Rudolphi spoke of the ligulæ of fishes which could continue to live in birds.

At a period nearer to our own times, our learned friend, Von Siebold, deservedly called the prince of helminthologists, was entirely of this opinion, and compared the cysticercus of the mouse with the tape-worm of the cat, considering this young worm as a wandering, sick, and dropsical being.

At the present time, experiments respecting these transmigrations are repeated every day in the laboratories of zoology with the same success; and Mons. R. Leuckart, who directs with so much talent the Institute of Leipzig, has discovered, in concert with his pupil Mecznikow, transmigrations of worms accompanied by changes of sex; that is to say, they have seen nematodes, the parasites of the lungs of the frog, always female or hermaphrodite, produce individuals of the two sexes which do not resemble their mother, and whose habitual abode is not in the lungs of the frog but in damp earth. In other words, let us imagine a mother, born a widow, who cannot exist without the assistance of others, producing boys and girls able to provide for themselves. The mother is parasitical and viviparous, her daughters are, during their whole life, free and oviparous.

This observation leads us to another sexual singularity, lately observed, of males and females of different kinds in one and the same species, and which give birth to progeny which do not resemble each other; the same animals, or rather the same species, proceed from two different eggs fecundated by different spermatozoids.

The assistance rendered by animals to each other is as varied as that which is found amongst men. Some receive merely an abode, others nourishment, others again food and shelter; we find a perfect system of board and lodging combined with philozoic institutions arranged in the most perfect manner. But if we see by the side of these paupers, some which render to one another mutual services, it would be but little flattering to them to call all indiscriminately either parasites or messmates (commensaux). We think that we should be more just to them if we designated the latter kinds mutualists, and thus mutuality will take its place by the side of mess-table arrangements (commensalism) and of parasitism.

It would also be necessary to coin another name for those which, like certain crustaceans, or even some birds, are rather guests which smell out a feast from afar (pique-assiettes) than parasites; and for others which repay by an ill turn the assistance which they have received. And what name shall we give to those which, like the plover, render services which may be compared to medical attendance?

We must not forget that the occupation of a gravedigger is equally general in nature, and that it is never without some profit to himself or his progeny that this gloomy workman inters the bodies of the dead. Certain animals have an occupation analogous to that of the shoeblack or the scourer, and they freshen up with care, and even with a kind of coquettish pleasure, the toilet of their neighbours.

And how must we designate the birds known by the name of stercorariæ, which take advantage of the cowardice of sea-gulls in order to live in idleness? It is useless for the gulls to trust to the strength of their wings, the stercorariæ in the end compel them to disgorge their food in order that they may partake of the spoils of their fishery. When followed up too closely, these timid birds throw up the contents of their crop, to render themselves lighter, like the smuggler who finds no means of safety except in abandoning his load.

We must not, however, be too hard upon all this class, since very often, as in the case of the gnat, it is only one of the sexes which seeks a victim.

All animals usually live for the passing day; and yet there are some which practise economy, which are not ignorant of the advantages of the savings bank, and, like the raven and the magpie, think of the morrow, to lay up in store the superfluity of the day’s provision.

But whence come those disgusting beings, whose name alone inspires us with horror, and which instal themselves without ceremony, not in our dwellings, but in our organs, and which we find it more difficult to expel than rats or mice? They all derive their existence from their parents.

The time has passed when a vitiated condition of the humours, or the deterioration of the parenchyma was considered a sufficient cause for the formation of parasites, and when their presence was regarded as an extraordinary phenomenon resulting from the morbid dispositions of the organism. We have reason to hope that this language will, during the next generation, have entirely disappeared from works on physiology and pathology. Neither the temperament nor the humours have any influence on parasites, and they are not more abundant in delicate individuals than in those who enjoy the most robust health. On the contrary, all wild animals harbour their parasitical worms, and the greater part of them have not lived long in captivity, before nematode and cestode worms completely disappear. It is only the imprisoned parasites which do not desert them.

All these mutual adaptations are pre-arranged, and as far as we are concerned, we cannot divest ourselves of the idea that the earth has been prepared successively for plants, animals, and man. When God first elaborated matter, He had evidently that being in view who was intended at some future day to raise his thoughts to Him, and do Him homage.

This question has always been discussed, and that science which cannot look beyond its scalpel, will never succeed in resolving it. Each one must seek by his own reason the solution of the great problem.

When we see the newly-born colt eagerly seeking for its mother’s teats, the chick as soon as it is hatched beginning to peck, or the duckling seeking its puddle of water, can we recognize anything but instinct as the cause of these actions, and is not this instinct the libretto written by Him who has forgotten nothing?

The statuary who tempers the clay from which to make his model, has already conceived in his mind the statue which he is about to produce. Thus it is with the Supreme Artist. His plan for all eternity is present to His thought. He will execute the work in one day, or in a thousand ages. Time is nothing to Him; the work is conceived, it is created, and each of its parts is only the realization of the creative thought, and its predetermined development in time and space.

At first we shall treat of animal messmates, secondly of mutualists, and thirdly of parasites.

ANIMAL PARASITES

AND MESSMATES.

CHAPTER I.

ANIMAL MESSMATES.

The messmate is he who is received at the table of his neighbour to partake with him of the produce of his day’s fishing; it would be necessary to coin a name to designate him who only requires from his neighbour a simple place on board his vessel, and does not ask to partake of his provisions.

The messmate does not live at the expense of his host; all that he desires is a home or his friend’s superfluities. The parasite instals himself either temporarily or definitively in the house of his neighbour; either with his consent or by force, he demands from him his living, and very often his lodging.

In the higher animals, this relation between them is generally well known, and justly appreciated, but it is not the same in the inferior ranks; and more than one animal may pass for a messmate or a parasite, for a robber or for a mendicant, according to the circumstances under which he is observed. The sharper passes for an honest man as long as he has not been taken in flagrante delicto. Thus, in order to be just, we must carefully examine the indictment, and not pronounce sentence without strict examination.

The greater part of those animals which have established themselves on each other, and live together on a good understanding and without injury, are wrongly classed as parasites by the generality of naturalists. Now that the mutual relations of many of these are better understood, we know many animals which unite together to render each other mutual assistance; while there are others which live like paupers on the crumbs which fall from the rich man’s table. There are many relations between the different species which can be discovered only after minute examination, but which have recently been appreciated with greater impartiality.

There are some free messmates which never renounce their independence, whatever may be the advantages which their Amphitryon enjoys; they break their alliance with him for the slightest motive of discontent, and go and seek their fortune elsewhere. Their susceptibility or their love of change guides them. They are recognized by their fishing implements or their travelling gear, which they never lay aside. These free messmates are the more numerous. The others, the fixed messmates, instal themselves with a neighbour, and live at their ease, having completely changed their dress, and renounced for ever an independent life. Their fate is thenceforward bound to him who carries them.

Under these two categories we shall cite several examples, and glance at the differences which the various classes of the animal kingdom present in this respect, beginning with the higher ranks.

CHAPTER II.

FREE MESSMATES.

We meet with free messmates in various classes of the animal kingdom. They sometimes mount on the back of a neighbour, sometimes occupy the opening of the mouth, the digestive passages, or the exit for the excreta; at times they place themselves under the shelter of the cloak of their host, from whom they receive both aid and protection.

Among the vertebrates, there are few except fishes which merit a place here; it is only amongst these that we meet with species at the mercy of others, and dependent on acolytes, which are in every respect inferior to themselves.

Dr. Greef, at present Professor at Marbourg, found at Madeira a holothuria of a foot in length, in which a vigorous Fierasfer lived in peace. Quoy and Gaimard, in the account of their voyage round the world, have remarked long since, that the Fierasfer hornei is found in the Stichopus tuberculosus.

The holothuriæ seem to exist under very advantageous conditions in this respect, since we see Fierasfers, which are themselves tolerable gluttons, accompanied by Palæmons and Pinnotheres in the same animal. Professor C. Semper has seen holothuriæ in the Philippine Islands which bore a considerable resemblance, in this respect, to an hotel with its table d’hôte.

These singular fishes have been long noticed, but it was not till recently that their presence in a host so low in the scale as a holothurian could be explained.

The fierasfers are not the only fishes which seek assistance from the holothuriæ; a species lives at Zamboanga, to which the specific name of Scabra has been given, and in the stomach of which, says Mons. Johannes Müller, usually lives a myxinoid fish, called Enchelyophis vermicularis. Unfortunately, we are not told in what part of the stomach it resides; for all is stomach in these animals.

Dr. Collingwood saw a sea anemone in the Chinese Sea, which was not less than two feet in diameter, and in the interior of which lodges a very frisky little fish, the name of which he could not tell.

To hatch the eggs in the mouth is not more extraordinary than to hatch them in any other part of the body. The Sygnathidæ hatch theirs in a pouch behind the anus; and it is a curious circumstance that the females do not undertake this duty. The males alone carry their progeny with them. This recalls to our recollection that curious example of the birds known under the name of Phalaropes, among which the males only hatch the eggs. The female of the cuckoo abandons her eggs, and entrusts them to the female of another bird.

To return to our animal messmates: let us notice the result of the observations of a learned and skilful naturalist who has rendered great services to ichthyology. Dr. Bleeker has described a still more remarkable association in the Indian seas; it is that of a crustacean, the Cymothoa, taking advantage of a fish known under the name of Stromatea; too imperfectly organized to fish for itself at large, but more skilful in snapping up all that comes within its reach, it makes its home in the buccal cavity of the Stromatea.

But of all crustaceans, the most cruel is the isopod named Ichthyoxena, which hollows out for itself and its female a large dwelling-place in the coats of the stomach of a cyprinoid fish. We will return again to these examples.

Without quitting our own sea-coast, we find an association of the same kind between young fishes (Caranx trachurus) and a beautiful medusa (Chrysaora isocela). This sea nettle often encloses several young specimens of Caranx, which we are surprised to see issuing full of life from the transparent bodies of these polyps. Indeed, it is not rare to find other fishes in the medusæ. Dr. Gunther, who has arranged with so much care the rich collection of fishes in the British Museum, has shown us some specimens of the Labrax lupus, and of the Gasterosteus, which had been obtained from the interior of different medusæ; and these associations have been also remarked by various distinguished observers, among whom we may mention Messrs. Sars, Rud. Leuckart, and Peach. The captain of the frigate Jouan, when in the Indian Sea, on October 26th, 1871, in 13° 20′ N. lat., and 60° 30′ E. long., that is to say, about 200 leagues to the west of the Laccadive Islands, saw, in very fine weather, the sea, which was at that time very calm, covered with medusæ, and the greater part of these were escorted by many little fishes of the genus Ostracion, the species of which he was unable to ascertain. It is probable that the school of medusæ set in motion certain animals which are eagerly sought after by the Ostracions.