ountry people of
Apulia should confound the much-dreaded ground-spider with the fabulous
star-lizard, and appropriate to the one the name of the other. The
derivation of the word tarantula, from the city of Tarentum, or the river
Thara, in Apulia, on the banks of which this insect is said to have been
most frequently found, or, at least, its bite to have had the most
venomous effect, seems not to be supported by authority. So much for the
name of this famous spider, which, unless we are greatly mistaken, throws
no light whatever upon the nature of the disease in question. Naturalists
who, possessing a knowledge of the past, should not misapply their
talents by employing them in establishing the dry distinction of forms,
would find here much that calls for research, and their efforts would
clear up many a perplexing obscurity.

Perotti states that the tarantula--that is, the spider so called--was not
met with in Italy in former times, but that in his day it had become
common, especially in Apulia, as well as in some other districts. He
deserves, however, no great confidence as a naturalist, notwithstanding
his having delivered lectures in Bologna on medicine and other sciences.
He at least has neglected to prove his assertion, which is not borne out
by any analogous phenomenon observed in modern times with regard to the
history of the spider species. It is by no means to be admitted that the
tarantula did not make its appearance in Italy before the disease
ascribed to its bite became remarkable, even though tempests more violent
than those unexampled storms which arose at the time of the Black Death
in the middle of the fourteenth century had set the insect world in
motion; for the spider is little if at all susceptible of those cosmical
influences which at times multiply locusts and other winged insects to a
wonderful extent, and compel them to migrate.

The symptoms which Perotti enumerates as consequent on the bite of the
tarantula agree very exactly with those described by later writers. Those
who were bitten, generally fell into a state of melancholy, and appeared
to be stupefied, and scarcely in possession of their senses. This
condition was, in many cases, united with so great a sensibility to
music, that at the very first tones of their favourite melodies they
sprang up, shouting for joy, and danced on without intermission, until
they sank to the ground exhausted and almost lifeless. In others, the
disea