The Gold-Bug
âAll in the Wrong
Many years ago, I contracted an intimacy with a Mr. William Legrand. He was of an ancient Huguenot family, and had once been wealthy; but a series of misfortunes had reduced him to want. To avoid the mortification consequent upon his disasters, he left New Orleans, the city of his forefathers, and took up his residence at Sullivanâs Island, near Charleston, South Carolina.
This island is a very singular one. It consists of little else than the sea sand, and is about three miles long. Its breadth at no point exceeds a quarter of a mile. It is separated from the main land by a scarcely perceptible creek, oozing its way through a wilderness of reeds and slime, a favorite resort of the marsh hen. The vegetation, as might be supposed, is scant, or at least dwarfish. No trees of any magnitude are to be seen. Near the western extremity, where Fort Moultrie stands, and where are some miserable frame buildings, tenanted, during summer, by the fugitives from Charleston dust and fever, may be found, indeed, the bristly palmetto; but the whole island, with the exception of this western point, and a line of hard, white beach on the seacoast, is covered with a dense undergrowth of the sweet myrtle, so much prized by the horticulturists of England. The shrub here often attains the height of fifteen or twenty feet, and forms an almost impenetrable coppice, burthening the air with its fragrance.
In the inmost recesses of this coppice, not far from the eastern or more remote end of the island, Legrand had built himself a small hut, which he occupied when I first, by mere accident, made his acquaintance. This soon ripened into friendshipâfor there was much in the recluse to excite interest and esteem. I found him well educated, with unusual powers of mind, but infected with misanthropy, and subject to perverse moods of alternate enthusiasm and melancholy. He had with him many books, but rarely employed them. His chief amusements were gunning and fishing, or sauntering along the beach and through the myrtles, in quest of shells or entomological specimens;âhis collection of the latter might have been envied by a Swammerdamm. In these excursions he was usually accompanied by an old negro, called Jupiter, who had been manumitted before the reverses of the family, but who could be induced, neither by threats nor by promises, to abandon what he considered his right of attendance upon the footsteps of his young âMassa Will.â It is not improbable that the relatives of Legrand, conceiving him to be somewhat unsettled in intellect, had contrived to instil this obstinacy into Jupiter, with a view to the supervision and guardianship of the wanderer.
The winters in the latitude of Sullivanâs Island are seldom very severe, and in the fall of the year it is a rare event indeed when a fire is considered necessary. About the middle of October, 18â, there occurred, however, a day of remarkable chilliness. Just before sunset I scrambled my way through the evergreens to the hut of my friend, whom I had not visited for several weeksâmy residence being, at that time, in Charleston, a distance of nine miles from the Island, while the facilities of passage and re-passage were very far behind those of the present day. Upon reaching the hut I rapped, as was my custom, and getting no reply, sought for the key where I knew it was secreted, unlocked the door and went in. A fine fire was blazing upon the hearth. It was a novelty, and by no means an ungrateful one. I threw off an overcoat, took an armchair by the crackling logs, and awaited patiently the arrival of my hosts.
Soon after dark they arrived, and gave me a most cordial welcome. Jupiter, grinning from ear to ear, bustled about to prepare some marsh-hens for supper. Legrand was in one of his fitsâhow else shall I term them?âof enthusiasm. He had found an unknown bivalve, forming a new genus, and, more than this, he had hunted down and secured, with Jupiterâs assistance, a scarabĂŚus which he believed to be totally new, but in respect to which he wished to have my opinion on the morrow.
âAnd why not tonight?â I asked, rubbing my hands over the blaze, and wishing the whole tribe of scarabĂŚi at the devil.
âAh, if I had only known you were here!â said Legrand, âbut itâs so long since I saw you; and how could I foresee that you would pay me a visit this very night of all others? As I was coming home I met Lieutenant Gâ, from the fort, and, very foolishly, I lent him the bug; so it will be impossible for you to see it until the morning. Stay here tonight, and I will send Jup down for it at sunrise. It is the loveliest thing in creation!â
âWhat?âsunrise?â
âNonsense! no!âthe bug. It is of a brilliant gold colorâabout the size of a large hickory-nutâwith two jet black spots near one extremity of the back, and another, somewhat longer, at the other. The antennĂŚ areââ
âDey aint no tin in him, Massa Will, I keep a tellin on you,â here interrupted Jupiter; âde bug is a goole bug, solid, ebery bit of him, inside and all, sep him wingâneber feel half so hebby a bug in my life.â
âWell, suppose it is, Jup,â replied Legrand, somewhat more earnestly, it seemed to me, than the case demanded, âis that any reason for your letting the birds burn? The colorââhere he turned to meââis really almost enough to warrant Jupiterâs idea. You never saw a more brilliant metallic lustre than the scales emitâbut of this you cannot judge till tomorrow. In the mean time I can give you some idea of the shape.â Saying this, he seated himself at a small table, on which were a pen and ink, but no paper. He looked for some in a drawer, but found none.
âNever mind,â said he at length, âthis will answer,â and he drew from his waistcoat pocket a scrap of what I took to be very dirty foolscap, and made upon it a rough drawing with the pen. While he did this, I retained my seat by the fire, for I was still chilly. When the design was complete, he handed it to me without rising. As I received it, a loud growl was heard, succeeded by a scratching at the door. Jupiter opened it, and a large Newfoundland, belonging to Legrand, rushed in, leaped upon my shoulders, and loaded me with caresses; for I had shown him much attention during previous visits. When his gambols were over, I looked at the paper, and, to speak the truth, found myself not a little puzzled at what my friend had depicted.
âWell!â I said, after contemplating it for some minutes, âthis is a strange scarabĂŚus, I must confess: new to me: never saw anything like it beforeâunless it was a skull, or a deathâs-headâwhich it more nearly resembles than anything else that has come under my observation.â
âA deathâs-head!â echoed LegrandââOhâyesâwell, it has something of that appearance upon paper, no doubt. The two upper black spots look like eyes, eh? and the longer one at the bottom like a mouthâand then the shape of the whole is oval.â
âPerhaps so,â said I; âbut, Legrand, I fear you are no artist. I must wait until I see the beetle itself, if I am to form any idea of its personal appearance.â
âWell, I donât know,â said he, a little nettled, âI draw tolerablyâshould do it at leastâhave had good masters, and flatter myself that I am not quite a blockhead.â
âBut, my dear fellow, you are joking then,â said I, âthis is a very passable skullâindeed, I may say that it is a very excellent skull, according to the vulgar notions about such specimens of physiologyâand your scarabĂŚus must be the queerest scarabĂŚus in the world if it resembles it. Why, we may get up a very thrilling bit of superstition upon this hint. I presume you will call the bug scarabĂŚus caput hominis, or something of that kindâthere are many similar titles in the Natural Histories. But where are the antennĂŚ you spoke of?â
âThe antennĂŚ!â said Legrand, who seemed to be getting unaccountably warm upon the subject; âI am sure you must see the antennĂŚ. I made them as distinct as they are in the original inse...