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Some Kind
of Mirror
Creating Marilyn Monroe

Amanda Konkle
Some Kind of Mirror
Q
Some Kind of Mirror
Q
Creating Marilyn Monroe

A m a n da Kon k l e

rutgers u niversity press

new bru nswick, camden, and newark,
new jersey, and london
Library of Congress Cataloging-­in-­Publication Data
Names: Konkle, Amanda, 1982–­author.
Title: Some kind of mirror : creating Marilyn Monroe / Amanda Konkle.
Description: New Brunswick : Rutgers University Press, 2018. | Includes
bibliographical references and index. | Includes filmography.
Identifiers: LCCN 2018008405 | ISBN 9781978802629 (cloth : alk. paper) |
ISBN 9781978802612 (pbk. : alk. paper)
Subjects: LCSH: Monroe, Marilyn, 1926–1962—­Criticism and interpretation.
Classification: LCC PN2287.M69 K66 2018 | DDC 791.4302/8092—­dc23
LC rec­ord available at https://­lccn​.­loc​.g­ ov​/­2018008405
A British Cataloging-­in-­Publication rec­ord for this book is available from the
British Library.
Copyright © 2019 by Amanda Konkle
All rights reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means,
electronic or mechanical, or by any information storage and retrieval system,
without written permission from the publisher. Please contact Rutgers University
Press, 106 Somerset Street, New Brunswick, NJ 08901. The only exception to this
prohibition is “fair use” as defined by U.S. copyright law.
The paper used in this publication meets the requirements of the American
National Standard for Information Sciences—­Permanence of Paper for Printed
Library Materials, ANSI Z39.48-1992.
www​.r­ utgersuniversitypress​.­org
Manufactured in the United States of Amer­i­ca
For Wes, Avalee, and my parents
“­People had a habit of looking at me as if I w
­ ere some kind of mirror
instead of as a person. They d
­ idn’t see me, they saw their own lewd
thoughts.”
—­Marilyn Monroe, My Story
 CON TEN TS

1 Introduction: Playing
“Marilyn Monroe” ​ ​ ​1
2 Becoming a Star: The Publicity Buildup
and Early Per­for­mances ​ ​ ​23
3 Mrs. Amer­i­ca: Marilyn Monroe
and Marriage Anxiety ​ ​ ​55
4 “It’s Kinda Personal and Embarrassing, Too”:
Monroe, the Kinsey Reports, and the
Double Standard ​ ​ ​99
5 The Actress and Her Method:
Resisting Playing “Marilyn Monroe” ​ ​ ​141
6 Conclusion: A “Marilyn Monroe” Type ​ ​ ​189

Acknowl­edgments ​ ​ ​199
Filmography ​ ​ ​201
Notes ​ ​ ​205
Works Cited ​ ​ ​231
Index ​ ​ ​263

ix
Some Kind of Mirror
Q
 chapter 1

Introduction
playing “marilyn monroe”

A story about Marilyn Monroe’s 1954 per­for­mances for the troops in ­Korea
concludes her autobiography, My Story.1 Monroe, as the narrator, says the
officer in charge of her Korean tour asked her to change the way she sang
the George Gersh­win song, “Do It Again,” b
­ ecause her per­for­mance was
“too suggestive.” Although Monroe insists that she “­hadn’t sung the song
with any suggestive meaning,” she agrees to change “do it” to “kiss me,”
­because she sees no point in arguing. She explains, “­People had a habit of
looking at me as if I w
­ ere some kind of mirror instead of as a person. They
­didn’t see me, they saw their own lewd thoughts” (183). With Monroe, this
story suggests, sex appeal was wholly con­spic­u­ous, even if she intended
her per­for­mance to be subdued or even classical. Eventually, when the
individual formerly known as Norma Jeane Mortenson looked in the mir-
ror, she would see not “herself,” but Marilyn Monroe looking back at
her. That she was “some kind of mirror” aptly describes Monroe’s role in
postwar culture, for, as I argue throughout this book, Monroe’s star
persona united many of the contradictory discourses of the postwar
period. Her per­for­mances, onscreen and off, despite having been crafted
to showcase her status as a sexpot, w
­ ere more complex in that, at the same
time as they acknowledged and resisted the conventions of the sexpot,
they also mirrored, or reflected, the concerns and anx­i­eties of many

1
2 Som e K i n d of Mir ror

postwar Americans. Monroe played the sexpot role, but she also chal-
lenged that role with humor, sensitivity, and cultural relevance.
In fact, the sexpot role Monroe played—­a per­for­mance of being con-
sistently and conspicuously desirable and available—­made Monroe’s
engagement with debates about postwar gender roles, female sexual desire,
and the l­abor undertaken by actresses more palatable to audiences and
critics—­and thereby also obscured the range of cultural work undertaken
by Monroe’s star persona in the postwar period (as well as ­today). The very
sexiness that is part of her persona has made it difficult for many writers
to take her seriously as an actress, and yet, playing “Marilyn Monroe”
meant not only being sexy, but also incorporating nuances of vulnerabil-
ity and humor into her roles. Playing “Marilyn Monroe” meant not only
being sexy, but also reflecting and advancing debates about ­women’s roles
in marriage and ­women’s sexuality. Playing “Marilyn Monroe” meant not
only being sexy, but also taking herself seriously as an actress, even when
few o
­ thers did. Playing “Marilyn Monroe” meant exposing and resisting
many of the contradictions of the postwar era. How she did that is the sub-
ject of this book.
In spite of, or perhaps b
­ ecause of, Monroe’s early, tragic, mysterious
death, Monroe reflects what o
­ thers want to see to this day; she figuratively,
and sometimes literally, remains “some kind of mirror.” For example,
according to staff and guests at Hollywood’s Roo­se­velt ­Hotel, where Mon-
roe was photographed for her early modeling gigs, Monroe’s reflection
still occasionally appears in the full-­length mirror that had once been in
her ­hotel room. The h
­ otel has since moved the mirror to the gift shop,
where it can attract revenue. Monroe’s films are still screened, both on
tele­v i­sion and in movie h
­ ouses, and thus her screen image also persists.2
Her offscreen image is nearly unavoidable: despite being dead, Monroe
appeared in a Snickers Super Bowl ad (2016), a Coke campaign (2015), cam-
paigns for Chanel No. 5 (1994, 2013) and J’Adore Dior (2011), campaigns
for Levi’s (1968, 1998), Gap (1993), and Max F
­ actor cosmetics (1999, 2015),
Another random document with
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 This jewel, so highly valued for its chaste beauty, is but a
secretion of animal matter, resulting from the efforts of some uneasy
mollusk, annoyed by a foreign substance, which has found its way
into his habitation, to make the best of an unavoidable evil by
enclosing it in a soft smooth covering. Let us imitate the Oyster, and
when annoyed or afflicted, by meekness and patience, and christian
charity, strive to turn our vexations and troubles into “pearls of great
price,” and “goodly pearls,” like those mentioned in scripture.
It is on the north-west coast of the Island of Ceylon, in the Indian
Ocean, that the Pearl Oyster most abounds, and there it is that the
Pearl fishery is conducted in the most extensive, systematic, and
successful manner; this fishing commences at the beginning of
March, and upwards of two hundred boats are usually employed in
it; in each of these boats are ten divers, who go down to the Oyster-
beds, five at a time, and so relieve each other; there are besides
thirteen other men who manage the boat, and attend to the divers.
Altogether it is computed that from fifty to sixty thousand persons,
in some way engaged in the fishery, or preparation, or sale of the
pearls, assemble at and near the scene of operations, which must be
indeed a busy one. The number of Oysters taken during the period
of the fishing, which is about a month, must be prodigious. One boat
has been known to bring on shore, in the day, as many as thirty-
three thousand; they are placed in heaps, and allowed to remain
until they become putrid, when they undergo a very elaborate
process of washing and separating from the shells, which are
carefully examined and deprived of their pearly treasures. The
stench arising from the decomposed animal matter is described as
horrible, and the whole process filthy and loathsome in the extreme;
yet out of the slime and mud and disgusting effluvia, come every
year gems of inestimable value, calculated to adorn the brow of
beauty, and form ornaments the most pure and delicate that can be
imagined. For the exclusive right of fishing on the banks of Ceylon,
for a single season, as much as £120,000 have been paid to the
English government by one person, who sublets boats to others.
Pearls vary greatly in value according to their colour and size; those
which are perfectly white are the most valuable; next to these are
those which have a yellowish tinge; the smallest kind, used for
various ornamental purposes, are called seed pearls, the refuse is
made into a kind of confection called chimum, highly relished by
Chinese epicures. A single Oyster will sometimes contain several
pearls, which are generally embedded in the body of the animal, but
are sometimes fixed to the shell; it is recorded of one rich mollusk,
that there were found in his possession no less than one hundred
and fifty precious jewels; he must have been a miser, or perhaps he
had taken them in pledge from his less provident neighbours.
From the earliest time, pearls have been considered as valuable
ornaments; they are mentioned in the book of Job, (see chap. xxviii,
verse 18th.,) and are often alluded to by Greek and Roman writers.
Various attempts have been made to imitate them, and one mode of
producing them, practised, it is said, more than a thousand years
ago, is still carried on in China. In the shells of Pearl Oysters, holes
are bored, into which pieces of iron are introduced; these wounding
and irritating the animal, cause it to deposit coat upon coat of pearly
matter over the wounded part, and so the pearl is formed. Artificial
pearls are made of hollow glass globules or little globes, covered on
the inside with a liquid called pearl-essence, and filled up with white
wax. Historians speak of an ancient traffic in native pearls carried on
by this country; and in modern times, British pearls of considerable
value have been discovered, one not many years since, by a
gentleman who was eating oysters at Winchester, was valued at two
hundred guineas. Generally, however, the pearls of this country are
inferior in the two requisites of colour and size.
Interesting accounts of Pearls and Pearl-fishing, will be found in
“the Penny,” and “Saturday Magazines,” and many other works easy
of access. There our young readers may learn of the perils and
dangers to which the poor divers are exposed from the voracious
sharks, which hover about the fishing grounds, and make a dash at
their victim, heedless of the written charms, with which the priest or
shark-charmer has provided him previous to his descent, and of
much more than we can find space here to tell. All we can now do is
to give the portrait, as drawn by Thomas Hood, of a lady who takes
up her abode in all the pearl-producing bivalves, and who is
therefore, perhaps on this account, called

THE MUSSEL AND THE COCKLE.

It is in the Dimyaria division of the Conchifera that we must look
for these familiar bivalves, the Mussel, or, as it is sometimes spelled,
Muscle, and the Cockle; the former called in scientific language
Mytilus, which in Latin means simply a shell-fish, and the latter
Cardium, which may have reference to the hinge of this bivalve, or
the heart-shape assumed by several of the species; cardo, in Latin,
signifying the hinge of a gate, and cardesco, a stone in the shape of
a heart.
 It is to the Mytilidæ family that we shall first direct our attention,
and here we find the Common or Edible Mussel, (M. edule,) and
many other species, in all of which the shell is more or less
elongated, or lengthened out, and pointed at one end. The members
of this family are abundant on most rocky coasts, where facilities are
afforded for the mollusks to moor themselves to rocks, stones, and
other substances covered at high-water, but left dry by the
retreating tide. They are not, however, confined to shores of this
description, but are sometimes found in vast numbers on low sandy
or pebbly flats, which run far out into the sea; these are called beds
of Mussels, and are, like the Oyster grounds, specially cared for and
protected. As a ship by its cable, so commonly the Mussel, by its
bissus or beard, is made fast to its anchorage-ground, be it pebbly
or sandy beach, or jutting rock. Sometimes, however, the mollusk
travels, and this is how it manages to do so; it has a stout fleshy
foot, in shape something like that of a chubby child, and this it can
advance about two inches beyond the edge of the shell, then fixing
the point of it to a piece of rock or any other body, and contracting
it, the shell is drawn onward, and sure, though slow, progress is
made in any desired direction. The Pinna, as the marine Mussel is
called, has a foot which is cylindrical in shape, and has at the bottom
a round tendon, almost as long as itself, the use of which appears to
be to gather in and retain the numerous threads with which, when
inhabiting the shores of tempestuous seas, it lashes itself fast to the
fixed objects around; these threads are fastened at various points,
and then drawn tight by the animal, whose instinct teaches it that its
brittle shell would soon be broken in pieces, if suffered to roll hither
and thither at the mercy of the waves.
The Mussel has a very curious method of preparing its cable for
this service; it is not woven, nor spun, nor drawn out of the body,
like the web of the spider, but produced in a liquid form, and cast in
a mould which is formed by a groove in the foot, extending from the
root of the tendon to the upper extremity; the sides of this groove
are formed so as to fold over it and form a canal, into which the
glutinous or sticky secretion is poured; there it remains until it has
dried into a solid thread, when the end of it is carried out by the
foot, and applied to the object to which it is to be attached; the
canal is then opened through its whole length to free the thread,
and closing again is ready for another casting; as if conscious how
much depends upon the security of his lines, the animal tries every
one after he has fixed it by swinging itself round so as to put the
threads fully on the stretch; when once they are all firmly fixed, it
seems to have no power of disengaging itself from them; the liquid
matter out of which they are formed, is so very glutinous, or glue-
like, as to attach itself firmly to the smoothest bodies. The process
of producing it is a slow one, as it does not appear that the Pinna
can form more than four or five in the course of twenty-four hours.
When the animal is disturbed in its operations, it sometimes forms
these threads too hastily; they are then more slender than those
produced at leisure, and, of a consequence, weaker. On some parts
of the Mediterranean coast, as in Sicily, gloves and other articles
have been manufactured from the threads of this mollusk; they
resemble very fine silk in appearance.
The foot of the Cockle, of which we
here give a figure, is commonly
employed in scooping out the mud or
sand, beneath which it conceals itself;
this useful limb assumes the form of a
shovel, hook, or any other instrument
necessary for the purpose; it appears
to be a mass of muscular fibres, and
to possess great power. As a boatman
in shallow water sends his vessel along by pushing against the
bottom with his boat-hook, precisely so does Mr. Cardium travel; he
doubles up his foot into a club, and by an energetic use of it as a
propeller, makes considerable headway along the surface of the soft
sand beneath the waters. In this way, too, some members of the
genus solen force their way through the sand; while those called
Tellina spring to a considerable distance, by first folding the foot into
a small compass, and then suddenly expanding it, closing the shell
at the same time with a loud snap; so that you see these sober-
looking mollusks are sometimes frolicksome fellows; this is an
enforcement of the lesson, judge not by appearances.
Some of the species, both of the Mussel and Cockle families, have
very beautiful shells. We give a representation of one of each, on
Plate VIII. Fig. 2 is the Magellanic Mytilus, (M. Magellanicus,) found
chiefly in the Straits of Magellan; it is generally four or five inches
long, the shells when polished are very brilliant, the deep purple
colour changing into rich violet, as they are held in different lights.
In most cabinets the large fan-like delicate shells of the genus Pinna
may be observed; the largest species is that called Pinna flabellum,
taken in the Mediterranean; it sometimes exceeds two feet in length.
The first of these names is a Latin word signifying, besides a shell-
fish, the fin of a fish, or the wing feathers of a bird—hence the term
pinion; it refers to the fin-like or wing-like shape of this shell.
Flabellum means a fan, referring probably to the bissus of the
mollusk, which is fine and glossy, like silk, and very abundant.
Many pretty specimens for figuring might be selected from the
Naidæ, a family of Fresh-water Mussels, so called from the Naiades,
fabulous divinities of the streams and rivers. The shells of many of
these, which are of considerable thickness, are lined with the most
brilliant nacre, and in these, as might be expected, pearls are
sometimes found. One species, abundant in some English rivers,
called the Mya Margaritifera, or, as some say, Uno elongates, has
long been celebrated for this valuable production. It was most likely
with pearls from this mollusk that Julius Cæsar adorned a breast-
plate, which he dedicated to Venus, and hung up in her temple. The
rivers Esk and Conway were formerly celebrated as British pearl-
fishing grounds; a Conway pearl was presented by her chamberlain,
Sir Richard Wynn, of Gwyder, to Catharine, Queen of Charles the
Second; and in the royal crown of Britain this jewel is said still to
occupy a place. Sir John Hawkins, the circumnavigator of the globe,
held a patent for the pearl-fishery of the River Irt, in Cumberland.
The rivers of Tyrone and Donegal, in Ireland, have, or had, their
pearl-bearing Mussels; we read of one which weighed thirty-six
carats, (a carat is nearly four grains,) but not being of perfect shape
and colour, it was only valued at forty pounds. We also read of
another purchased by Lady Glenlealy, for £10, and found to be so
perfect and admirable, that £80 was afterwards offered for it, and
refused.
These Naidæ have not a bissus like the Marine Mussels, they are
therefore never attached to one object; they use their foot as a
propeller in traversing the muddy floor of the pond or river, and they
have a very funny way of getting along indeed; first, they open the
valves of the shell, put out the foot, and after some little hard work,
manage to set themselves up on edge; they then proceed by a
series of jerks, leaving a deepish furrow in the mud behind them.
We will now go to Fig. 3, the Spined Cytherea, the Cytherea or
Venus Dione of naturalists; the meaning of the term is the mother of
Venus, who was, as you will remember, the goddess of beauty, given
to this shell perhaps because it is entitled to occupy a place at the
head of the Cytherea, a genus of the Cardiidæ, or Cockle family, of
which genus there are about seventy-eight living species; this, as it
is the most rare, is also, perhaps, the most beautiful; it is found in
the seas of America, and is remarkable for the row of spines on the
hinder border of each valve; these vary much in size and number,
being in some individuals long and far apart, in others, short, thick,
and closely set. The colour of the shell also varies considerably,
being sometimes of a delicate rose colour; at others, more of a
claret; at others again, bordering on purple. It was for one of the
first discovered specimens of this shell, that £1000 is said to have
been given. Truly a Venus of value this; it ought to be called the
Queen of Cockles!
Our next example, (see Fig. 4,) is the Spotted Tridacna, (T.
maculatus,) the latter term signifying spotted. In the Chamidæ or
Clam family, is placed the Tridacna genus, the discovered species of
which are not numerous; they are chiefly found in the Indian seas.
The one above mentioned claims pre-eminence for beauty. We
cannot quite see the applicability of the generic name; Tridacnus, in
Latin, signifies to be eaten at three bites, but he must be a man of
large capacity indeed who could so devour the head of this family,
the Giant Tradacna, (T. gigas,) a single specimen of which has been
known to weigh as much as five hundred and seventy pounds; from
three to four hundred is by no means an uncommon size. The shell
of this giant mollusk is of a very picturesque shape, something like
its spotted congener, as we call anything of the same kind or genus,
only it is somewhat plainer, and more deeply ribbed and indented.
The inside is of a glossy whiteness, and it is frequently used as a
basin for garden fountains, or the reception of rills or little jets of
water, which sparkle in its stainless hollow. In the church of St.
Salpice, at Paris, is a shell of this immense Clam, the valves of which
are used as receptacles for holy water; it was presented to Francis
the First, by the republic of Venice. Fancy the clapping to of such a
pair of valves, when the animal closes its shell in alarm, and the
strength of the cable required to moor it to the rocks or coral reef.
The spotted species here figured has a solid and heavy shell, very
elegantly shaped, and beautifully marked, as will be seen; the
greatly reduced size of the figure prevents anything like justice being
done to the original.
 The above is a figure of the Heart Isocardea, (I. cor,) which is also
a member of the Clam family, and one of the most elegantly-shaped
shells in the whole range of Conchology. It is a native of the
Mediterranean and other seas of Europe, and has been taken in
deep water on the West coast of Ireland. We complete this group
with a representation of the curious Arcadæ family, or Ark shells, as
they are commonly called, because one of the species was thought
to resemble the ark built by Noah. Mr. Swainson tells us that the
animals of these shells affix themselves to other bodies by a
particular muscle, which is protruded through the gaping part of the
valves; they also adhere, when young, by means of the bissiform
epidermis, or bissus-like outer skin: this species is a native of the
Atlantic Ocean and the seas of Europe. The Antique Ark, (A.
antiqua,) is very like the Common Cockle, being of a white colour,
and heart-shaped. We give below a representation of this shell, and
also of the shell of the pretty little Pearly Trigonia, (T. margaritacea,)
included in the Arcadæ family; this is a rare species, found only in
the seas of New Holland.
 SCALLOP SHELLS.
Several species of Scallop Shells are found scattered about on our
shores; they belong, as before stated, to the family Pectinidæ, the
meaning of which term has been already explained. These shells
were called by Cuvier “the Butterflies of the Ocean,” on account of
the various and beautiful colours which they exhibit. Some of them
are exceedingly thin, and brittle as glass; one species found in the
Arctic regions, is as transparent as that substance, and is therefore
called P. vitreus, from the Latin for glass, which is vitreum. One of
the commonest of our native Scallops is the St. James’ Cockle, (P.
Jacobœus;) this shell is found in great plenty along our southern
coasts; it is often referred to by old writers, on account of having
been commonly worn in the hats of pilgrims to Palestine, or the Holy
Land, as the scene of our Saviour’s life and death was called. Sir
Walter Raleigh, in his poem called “The Pilgrimage,” thus
enumerates the different articles considered necessary for a Palmer,
as these pilgrims were termed:—

“Give me my scallop shell of quiet,

My staff of faith to lean upon,
My scrip of joy, (immortal diet,)
My bottle of salvation,
My gown of glory, hope’s true gage,
And thus I’ll make my pilgrimage.”

This Mollusk, it may be noticed, like many other bivalves, has a

flat, and a concave or hollow shell: in early times when plates and
drinking vessels were not so plentiful as they are now, one of these
served the former purpose, and the other the latter; thus, in
speaking of a feast, a Gaelic or Scottish bard has said—

“The joy of the shell went round.”

Sometimes the species termed Pecten opercularis, was used as the

pilgrim’s badge; the specific name comes most likely from the Latin
operculum, whose meaning has been explained.
 This too, is a common British shell, as is also the little speckled
Scallop, (P. varia,) which may be found on almost any part of the
coast where the water-line is margined with a sandy ridge. The
shells are generally about two inches long, of various colours,
clouded, speckled, and marked with about twelve ribs. There is a
foreign species called the Flounder Scallop, P. pleuronectes, which is
remarkable for having the two valves of the shell of different colours,
the upper one being of a rich reddish brown, and the lower one
white: the specific name has reference to this, being compounded of
the Latin pleura—something double, and necto—to join. The fish
called the Flounder, is brown above and white beneath, hence the
English name of this shell. The preceding engraving of the Common
Scallop, viewed from the front, shows the flat and concave form of
the two valves of this shell, and also the depth of the indentations or
ridges.

LIMPITS.
 Among the rocks of the British coast, there are no shells more
frequently met with than those of the Common Limpit, Patella
vulgata; they lie scattered about like so many little empty cups, each
having, on the death of the mollusk, fallen from the rocky cavity in
which it was embedded, and which was just large enough to contain
it. Here the animal attaches itself so firmly by its fibrous foot, which
is hollow in the centre, and acts like a sucker, that it is almost
impossible to loosen its hold otherwise than by inserting something
thin, like the blade of a knife between it and the stone. By this
power of adhesion, the Limpit is protected from the violence of the
waves, and also from its numerous enemies, aquatic birds and
animals, which have a relish for its flesh. Still vast numbers are used
as food, both by man and the inferior creatures, so that the means
of defence furnished to the Limpits of the rock, are not always sure.
“The peasantry of the western isles of Scotland,” we are told by Miss
Pratt, “look to the Periwinkles and Limpits, which abound on the
rocks, for their daily meal, often for long seasons, subsisting almost
entirely upon this humble food. In the Isle of Skye, the inhabitants
are often, at one time of the year, without any other source of
provision.” Then comes the Sea-gull, and the Duck, and the Pied
Oyster-catcher, to feed on the poor little mollusk, the bill of the latter
bird being admirably adapted for loosening its hold on the rock.
Patella in Latin signifies a salad-dish, a knee-pan, and several
other domestic utensils, of a broad shallow make, and hence we find
the plural form of the word applied to the Limpit family, whose shells
are of such a shape. Members of this family are found on all rocky
coasts, except those of the Arctic seas; on Tropical rocks they grow
to a large size, and form a valuable article of food. A very curious
piece of mechanism is the tongue of the Common Limpit, it is from
two to three inches long, and has a spoon-like extremity, so that it
looks, when extended from the mouth, like a small snake; if
examined through a microscope, it is seen to be armed throughout
its whole extent with rows, four deep, of sharp hooked teeth, and
between each row are placed two others, which have three points,
and are set in a slanting position; the use of this arrangement we
cannot at present determine, but no doubt it has a perfect
adaptation to the wants of the animal.
There are shell-fish called Key-hole Limpits, which belong to the
genus Fissurellidæ, from fissura—a cleft or slip, from whence comes
also fissure. All the members of this genus are distinguished by the
aperture at the top of the shell, shaped like a key-hole, which is
situated exactly over the breathing organs, and serves as a channel
for the water necessary for respiration.
Frequently upon the fronds of the large olive sea-weeds may be
found a tiny shell shaped something like that of the Common Limpit;
it is of an olive green colour, with blue streaks, and is called, from its
clearness, the Pellucid Limpit, P. pellucida. There is also another
much like it in appearance, which naturalists call P. lœvis. To the
labours of these little mollusks, according to Dr. Harvey, may be
partly attributed the destruction of the gigantic Algæ, (sea-weed.)
Eating into the lower part of the stems, and destroying the branches
of the roots, they so far weaken the base, that it becomes unable to
support the weight of the frond; and thus the plant is detached and
driven on shore by the waves.

“And so the forest tall that groweth,

Underneath the waters clear,
Does the little woodman mollusk,
Level every year;
From small causes, great results—
Teaching you to persevere.”

ROCK-BORERS.
The family Pholadæ comprises a group of mollusks, the boring
habits of which have long been known; they penetrate wood, hard
clay, chalk, and rocks, and devastate the labours of man; they attack
the hulls of ships, the piles which form the foundations of piers and
break-waters, and they force themselves upon our attention by the
loss of property, as well as of life, which results from their hidden
depredations. Of this family, those belonging to the genus Pholus
may be more especially likened to the Edomites of Scripture,
because they take up their abode in the rock, and hollow out for
themselves dwellings therein. With a shell as thin as paper, and
brittle as glass, the wonder is how these Rock-borers work their way
into and through hard stones. Some naturalists assert that they
effect this by means of an acid which decomposes the substance of
the rock, and renders it soft; others, that the animal keeps turning
round and round like an instrument called an auger, and so gradually
rasps away the surface of the stone with the angles of its shell, but
we question whether the shell would not be worn out first in such a
process. The generic name of these “stone-piercers,” comes from
the Greek word Pholeo—to hide, and the rocky chambers which they
hollow out for themselves, are as snug hiding-places as can well be
imagined; yet, however deep they may go into these gloomy
caverns, as we should be apt to suppose them, they need not be in
darkness, for it appears that these Pholades emit a most remarkable
light, whether phosphorescent or not does not appear to be
determined; so strong is it, that it is said to illuminate the mouth of
the person who eats the mollusk; and it is remarked by Dr. Priestly,
that “contrary to the nature of most fish, which give light when they
tend to putrescence, this is more luminous the fresher it is, and
when dried its light will revive on being moistened with water.” So
that in more respects than one these rock-borers are mysteries. The
most common of them, perhaps, is the Prickly Pidduck, or
Peckstone, (P. dactylus,) which is much used by the fishermen of our
coasts as bait; the specific name is the Latin for a fruit shaped like a
finger, which is something like the shape of this mollusk, as will be
seen by the annexed engraving.
 The genus Pholus is very widely distributed, and all the species
have the same boring habits as those of our own coast, which we
need not enumerate. Like them too in this respect are the marine
worms called Teredo, which make their way into the bottoms of
ships, and all submerged timber, but these will be more fully spoken
of in another volume. The above figure exhibits the Pholas dactylus
as it appears in a section of rock, split open for the purpose of
seeing the shelly miner at his work.
 MULTIVALVES.
We have insensibly passed from the Bivalve shells to those
composed of several pieces, and therefore called Multivalves;
properly, perhaps, the Rock-borers, last described, come into this
division, for although their covering consists mainly of two principal
portions or valves, yet there are often additional parts; in some a
calcarious tube envelopes the whole mollusk, leaving only an
opening behind; this is more especially the case with those which
most resemble worms, such as the genera Teredina and Teredo,
included by Lamarck in the family which he calls Tubulidæ.
The first group of multivalves we shall have to notice, are

THE CHITONS,
forming the family Chitonidæ. The term has a Greek derivation, and
means a coat of mail. These mollusks are covered by a shell formed
of eight distinct portions, arranged along the back in a single row,
and attached to a mantle which resembles leather, being very tough
and wrinkled; the edges of this mantle extend beyond the borders of
the plates, which overlap each other, so as to constitute a kind of
armour, very different from the conical shell of the Limpit, or the
turbinated, that is twisted, case of some of the Borers. The
coverings of the Chitons are variously marked, so that each distinct
species is known by its peculiar pattern, as a knight of old by the
quarterings of his shield. All the mantles, however, have scaly, hairy,
or spiny margins. In this coat of mail, the animal can roll itself up
like an armadillo, and so be tolerably secure from its enemies; it has
an oval foot, the sides of which are covered with small leaflets, and
by means of this it can attach itself to rocks, like the Limpit, or travel
about in search of adventures. It has no distinct head, therefore it is
acephalous; nor any perceptible eyes. The mouth is furnished with a
long tongue, curled up spirally, like a watch-spring, and armed with
horny teeth.
The members of the Chiton family are numerous, being found on
most rocky shores; they attain the largest size in the hottest
climates, having never been found very far north. The British species
are small, and not more than two or three in number; they may be
found adhering to stones near low-water mark. We give a figure of
one of these called the Tufted Chiton, (C. fascicularis;) this word is
from the Latin fasciculus—a little bundle of leaves or flowers, and it
refers to the hairy tufts that edge the mantle of this marine slug.

BARNACLES,
Or, as they are sometimes called, Bernicles, belong to what
naturalists term the class Cirrhopoda, sometimes spelled cirripeda,
which appears to be derived from the Latin cirrus—a tuft or lock of
hair curled, and pede—a foot; hence the term may be translated
hairy-footed. Such of our readers as have seen the Common or Duck
Barnacle, (Pentalasmis anatifera,) will at once understand the
applicability of this term. Many a piece of drift wood comes to land
literally covered with long fleshy stalks, generally of a purplish red
colour, twisting and curling in all directions, and terminating in
delicate porcelain-like shells, clear and brittle, of a white colour, just
tinged with blue, from between which project the many-jointed
cirrhi, or hair-like tentacles, which serve the purpose of a casting
net, to seize and drag to the mouth of the animal, its prey, which
consists of small mollusks and crustacea.
 This is the Barnacle about which such strange stories are told by
old writers, who affirmed that the Barnacle or Brent Goose, that in
winter visits our shores, is produced from these fleshy foot-stalks
and hairy shells by a natural process of growth, or, as some
philosophers of our day would say, of development. Gerard, who, in
1597, wrote a “Historie of Plants,” describes the process by which
the fish is transformed into the bird; telling his readers that as “the
shells gape, the legs hang out, that the bird growing bigger and
bigger the shells open more and more, till at length it is attached
only by the bill, soon after which it drops into the sea; there it
acquires feathers, and grows to a fowle.” There is an amusing
illustration given in Gerard’s book, where the young Geese are
represented hanging on the branches of trees, just ready to drop
into the water, where a number of those that have previously fallen,
like ripe fruit, and attained their full plumage, are sailing about very
contentedly. It was part of this theory that the Barnacles were of
vegetable origin, they grew upon trees, or sprung out of the ground
like mushrooms; so we find in the works of an old poet named Du
Bartas, these lines:—

“So slow Bootes underneath him sees

In the icy islands goslings hatched of trees,
Whose fruitful leaves, falling into the water,
Are turned, as known, to living fowls soon after;
So rotten planks of broken ships do change
To Barnacles. O transformation strange!
’Twas first a green tree, then a broken hull,
Lately a mushroom, now a flying Gull.”

The investigations of modern science have quite exploded this

foolish notion; we now know exactly what transformations the
Barnacle undergoes; strange enough some of them are, but it does
not change into a Goose, although its specific name has reference to
that bird, being derived from anas, the Latin for Goose.
 The shell of the Barnacle is composed of five pieces joined
together by membranes; four pieces are lateral, that is to say, they
form the sides, the word comes from the Latin latus—a side; the
other is a single narrow slip, which fills what would otherwise be an
open space down the back between the valves; these parts of the
shell appear to be somewhat loosely connected, so as to allow free
action to the animal lodged within, which is enclosed in a fine skin or
mantle. The mouth is placed at the lower part, near the opening,
whence the cirrhi issue forth; this mouth is a curious piece of
mechanism, being furnished with a horny lip covered with minute
palpi, or feelers; there are three pairs of mandibles, that is jaws, the
two outer ones being horny and serrated, that is jagged or toothed
like a saw; the inner one is soft and membranous, that is, composed
of little fibres, like strings, crossing each other, as we see what are
called the veins in a leaf.
Much more might be said about the internal structure of the
Cirrhopods, or Balani, as the Barnacle group is sometimes called,
from the Latin Balanus—a kind of acorn. By some naturalists, the
term is not applied to the stalked Cirrhipoda, like that we have been
describing, but only to the sessile kinds, that is, those which set
close or grow low; from the same Latin root comes the English word
session—a settling. The coverings of these Dwarf Barnacles are
sometimes called acorn shells; they are commonly white, of an
irregular cone shape, composed of several ribbed pieces, closely
fitted together with an opening at the top, closed by an operculum,
or stopper.
These shells cover in patches the surface of exposed rocks, drift
wood, and any other substance. Some of the mollusks affix
themselves to the bodies of Whales, others form a lodgment in the
hollows of corals and sponges. Once fixed they remain so during life,
taking their chance of such suitable food as may come within their
limited sphere of action. At an earlier stage of their existence, both
their shape and habits are very different, being lively little creatures,
swimming about hither and thither like water-fleas. They are about
the tenth of an inch long, and of most grotesque appearance, having
six jointed legs set with hairs, the whole being so arranged that they
act in concert, and striking or flapping the water, send the little body
along in a series of bounds; then the creature has two long arms,
each furnished with hooks and a sucker, and a tail tipped with
bristles, which is usually folded up under the body; its pair of large
staring eyes are pedunculated, that is, set upon foot-stalks; it has a
house on its back, like a bivalve shell, into which it can collect its
scattered members when occasion requires. When of sufficient age
to settle itself in life, and become a staid member of submarine
society, it fixes itself to some convenient object, throws away its
eyes as no longer useful, gets rid of its preposterous limbs, enlarges
its house, and sits down to fishing in a small way for an honest and
respectable livelihood.
A piece of timber covered with Stalked Barnacles, wriggling and
twisting about like so many helmeted snakes, and waving their
plume-like cirrhi, is a very curious sight. They sometimes attach
themselves to ship’s bottoms in such numbers as to retard their
progress through the water; they do not, however, bore into and
destroy the timber, like the Teredines, or ship worms, to which we
have alluded in our brief notice of the Pholadæ. The growth of
Barnacles must be very rapid, as a ship perfectly free from them, will
often return after a short voyage, with her bottom below the water
line completely covered.
We give a representation of a group of these stalked mollusks, as
they appear affixed to a piece of timber. This is the Common, or
Duck Barnacle.
 CUTTLE FISH.
Strange and monstrous as are the forms of many of the creatures
that inhabit the deep, there are perhaps none more so than those
belonging to that division of the class Cephalopoda, called Sepia or
Cuttle-fish. But before we go any further let us enquire what is
meant by a Cephalopod. Our readers have already learned that
Gasteropod means stomach and foot, and that acephalous means
headless; now here we have a word which takes a portion of each of
the others, cephal—head, and peda, or poda—a foot, consequently
ceph-a-lo-po-da, is a class of molluscous animals which have their
feet, or organs of motion, arranged around the head, something,
you may suppose, like that celebrated hero of nursery rhymes,

“Tom Toddy, all head and no body.”

Only our bag-shaped Mr. Sepia, with his great round staring eyes,
and numerous legs or arms, whichever you please to call them, all
twisting and twining about like so many serpents, is a much more
formidable looking individual. A strange fellow is this altogether; he
has a shell, but he does not use it for a covering, he carries it inside
of him, and it serves the purpose of a sort of back-bone; it is horny
and calcarious, light and porous, as our readers well know, having
most likely often used it to take out unsightly blots, or erase
mistakes in their copy or cyphering books.
When Mr. Sepia walks abroad, he sticks his little round body
upright, so that his eyes, and mouth, which is armed with a parrot-
like beak, are brought close to the surface over which he passes,
while his long twining legs go sprawling about in all directions; on
the insides of these legs are a great number of small circular
suckers, by means of which the animal can fix itself to any object so
tightly that it is almost impossible to detach it without tearing off
part of the limb. Woe be to the poor unfortunate fish that chances to
come in its way; the snaky arms are thrown around it, and made
fast, and away goes the cephalopod for a ride, eating on the road to
lose no time, on the finny steed that carries it. In some species each
of the suckers has a hook in the centre, which of course renders the
hold yet firmer, and no doubt adds to the disagreeable sensation
which their tight compression must cause; it is likely that these
hooks are intended to retain the hold of soft and slippery prey, which
might otherwise be too agile for the “ugly customer,” that would
affectionately embrace it. But Mr. Sepia, though well armed in front,
is rather open to attacks in the rear of his soft naked body; to
provide for such an emergency, he is furnished with a little bag of
inky fluid, which he squirts out in the face of his pursuer, and
escapes under cover of the cloud; this is the substance used by
painters, and called sepia, whence the generic name of the mollusks
which produce it.
In the British seas none of these cephalopods attain so large a
size as to be formidable to man, as they do in warmer climates. It
was asserted by Dens, an old navigator, that in the African seas,
while three of his men were employed during a calm in scraping the
sides of the vessel, they were attacked by a monstrous Cuttle-fish,
which seized them in its arms, and drew two of them under water,
the third man was with difficulty rescued by cutting off one of the
creature’s limbs, which was as thick at the base as the fore-yard of
the ship, and had suckers as large as ladles; the rescued sailor was
so horrified by the monster, that he died delirious a few hours after.
An account is also given of another crew who were similarly attacked
off the coast of Angola; the creature threw its arms across the
vessel, and had nearly succeeded in dragging it down, and was only
prevented doing so by the severing of its limbs with swords and
hatchets. A diligent observer of nature has asserted that in the
Indian seas Cuttle-fish are often seen two fathoms broad across the
centre, with arms nine fathoms long. Only think, what a monster!
with a body twelve feet across, and eight or ten legs like water-
snakes, some six and thirty feet long. Well may it be said, that the
Indians when they go out in boats are in dread of such, and never
sail without an axe for their protection.
There is a story told by a gentleman named Beale, who, while
searching for shells upon the rocks of the Bonin Islands,
encountered a species of Cuttle-fish called by the whalers “the Rock-
squid,” and rashly endeavoured to secure it. This cephalopod, whose
body was not bigger than a large clenched hand, had tentacles at
least four feet across, and having its retreat to the sea cut off by Mr.
Beale, twined its limbs around that gentleman’s arm, which was
bared to the shoulder for the purpose of thrusting into holes of the
rocks after shells, and endeavoured to get its horny beak in a
position for biting. The narrator describes the sickening sensation of
horror which chilled his very blood, as he felt the creature’s cold
slimy grasp, and saw its large staring eyes fixed on him, and the
beak opening and closing. He called loudly for help, and was soon
joined by his companion, who relieved him by destroying the Cuttle-
fish with a knife, and detaching the limbs piece by piece.
There are several species of these cephalopods; the most
generally distributed appears to be the Octopus vulgaris, or Common
Cuttle-fish, which is sometimes found on our own shores, where also
may be obtained the Common Sepiola, S. vulgaris, usually about
three inches long, and the Officinal Cuttle-fish, S. Officinalis, which is
about a foot in length; we give below small figures of each of these
three species, to show the difference in the shape: the two last, it
will be observed, have, in addition to the eight tentacles, which give
the generic name Octopus, signifying eight, two long side arms, the
use of which does not appear to be very clearly determined.

NAUTILUS AND AMMONITE.

 The Nautili are called testaceous cephalopods, our readers know,
or ought to know, the meaning of both these terms. Like the Cuttle-
fish they are sometimes called Polypi, because they have many arms
or tentacles, the word poly, with which a great number of English
words commence, being the Greek for many. An ancient writer
named Aristotle, after describing the naked cephalopods, says,
“There are also two polypi in shells; one is called by some, nautilus,
and by others, nauticus. It is like the polypus, but its shell resembles
a hollow comb or pecten, and is not attached. This polypus ordinarily
feeds near the sea-shore; sometimes it is thrown by the waves on
the dry land, and the shell falling from it, is caught, and there dies.
The other is in a shell like a snail, and this does not go out of its
shell, but remains in it like a snail, and sometimes stretches forth its
cirrhi.” The first of these animals, there can be no doubt, is the
Argonaut, or Paper Nautilus, and the latter that which is called the
True Nautilus, of both of which species let us say a few words, which
we will introduce by quoting some beautiful lines from a poem called
“the Pelican Island,” by James Montgomery.

“Light as a flake of foam upon the wind,

Keel upwards from the deep, emerged a shell,
Shaped like the moon ere half her orb is filled:
Fraught with young life it righted as it rose,
And moved at will along the yielding water.
The native pilot of this little bark
Put out a tier of oars on either side;
Spread to the wafted breeze a two-fold sail,
And mounted up and glided down the billow,
In happy freedom, pleased to feel the air,
And wander in the luxury of light.”

The tiny mariner here alluded to, is the Paper Nautilus, common in
the Mediterranean and some tropical seas; its scientific name is
Argonauta argo. In the mythology, we read that Argo was the name
of a ship that carried a certain Grecian named Jason, and a crew of
argives in search of adventures; some say that the term is derived
from a Greek word signifying swift: this party of mariners, said to be
the first that ever sailed upon the sea, was called Argonauts, or, as it
might be freely translated, seamen of the ship Argo. Nauticus, in
Latin, signifies anything relating to ships or navigation, and here you
have the whole origin of the name of this little Argonaut, about
which we must sing you a song written by Mary Howitt, before we
proceed further:—

“Who was the first sailor; tell me who can;

Old father Neptune?—no, you’re wrong,
There was another ere Neptune began;
Who was he? tell me. Tightly and strong,
Over the waters he went—he went,
Over the waters he went!

Who was the first sailor? tell me who can;

Old father Noah!—no, you’re wrong,
There was another ere Noah began,
Who was he? tell me. Tightly and strong,
Over the waters he went—he went,
Over the waters he went.

Who was the first sailor? tell me who can;

Old father Jason?—no, you’re wrong,
There was another ere Jason began,
Don’t be a blockhead, boy! Tightly and strong,
Over the waters he went—he went,
Over the waters he went.

Ha! ’tis nought but the poor little Nautilus—

Sailing away in his pearly shell;
He has no need of a compass like us,
Foul or fair weather he manages well!
Over the water he goes—he goes,
Over the water he goes.”
 Many more poems of the like nature we might quote, for this little
shelled cephalopod has been a favourite with the poets time out of
mind, and in some instances they and the less imaginative
naturalists have disagreed in their accounts of its form and
operations, for instance, Pope says—

“Learn of the little Nautilus to sail,

Spread the thin oar and catch the driving gale.”

“Catch a fiddle-stick,” say some naturalists, the little Nautilus does

nothing of the sort; and if you go to him to learn navigation, you will
never be much of a sailor; he may teach you how to sink to the
bottom and rise again, and that kind of knowledge might be worth
something to you if you could breathe under water; and he might
teach you how to swim, but not how to sail, for in spite of all poetic
theories, he does the former and not the latter. Most usually he
walks about at the bottom of the sea on his long arms, something
like the Cuttle-fish, feeding on the marine vegetation; the shell is
then uppermost; if we could look inside of it we should see
numerous little chambers or cells, the larger and outermost of which
only are inhabited by the mollusk, the others being filled with air
render the whole light and buoyant. Through the centre of these
chambers, down to the smallest of them, runs a membranous tube
which can be exhausted or filled with fluid at the pleasure of the
animal, and the difference thus effected in the weight of the shell
enables it to sink or swim; in the latter case, up it goes to the
surface, and “keel upwards from the deep,” emerges, as the poet
has said, but once there it soon reverses its position. The shell
becomes like a boat it is true, but its inhabitant neither points a sail
nor plies the oar, but propels itself along stem foremost by a
muscular action, which by alternately compressing and loosening a
kind of siphon, throws out jets or gushes of water, which by the
resistance they meet with from the surrounding fluid, give the
desired onward motion, and away the swimmer goes, his long arms
gathered closely together, and streaming behind like the tail of a
comet, and its round eyes keeping a sharp look-out on either side.
Should it espy danger, the body and limbs are withdrawn into the
shell, and the fluid driven through the central tube, so as to
compress the air in the pearly cells, and down sinks the swimmer
once again to his native depths, where

“The floor is of sand like the mountain drift,

And the pearl shells’ spangle the flinty snow;
And from coral rocks the sea-plants lift
Their boughs where the tides and billows flow,
The water is calm and still below.
For the winds and waves are absent there;
And the sands are bright as the stars that glow
In the motionless fields of upper air.
And life in rare and beautiful forms,
Is sporting amid those bowers of stone,
And is safe, when the wrathful spirit of storms,
Has made the top of the waves his own.”

We give below two figures of the Argonaut, one of which

represents him crawling at the bottom of the sea, and the other
swimming on the surface.

The True, or Pearly Nautilus, (N. Pompilius,) the origin of whose

specific name we have been unable to discover, is much like the
Argonaut in appearance and general construction; the shell is
externally smoother and more iridescent, it is also generally
somewhat thicker than the former kind, and has internally more
chambers or divisions; its pearly lustre renders it a beautiful
ornament, and the large size it frequently attains a very conspicuous
one. Its inhabitant has several peculiarities of organization, which
distinguish it from the Argonauts, but into these we need not enter;
neither can we pause to describe the other species of nautili, the
shells of which, like those of the Cowry and other univalves, are
covered with a membrane which hides their beauty. This membrane
or mantle sometimes extends some distance beyond the edge of the
shell, and, being of a light and filmy appearance, may have been
mistaken for a sail hoisted by the creature to catch the breeze, while
its long arms, thrust up into the air or down into the water, may
have been thought to be masts or oars, so that the poets are not so
much to be blamed, if they say as Wordsworth does.

“Spread, tiny Nautilus, the living sail,

Dive at thy choice, or catch the freshening gale.”

Nearly allied to the Nautili are these beautiful fossil shells called
Ammonites, from their fancied resemblance to the horns of a
heathen deity or god, called Jupiter Ammon. These shells, at once
the wonder and pride of geologists, are found in the chalk
formations, and thousands of years must have passed away since
they were inhabited by living creatures. The Nautili which swam and
sported with them at the depths of the ocean, as is proved by the
shells of many species found in the same chalky deposits, have still
their living representatives, but those winding galleries and pearly
chambers once fragile as paper and brittle as glass, now turned into,
and surrounded by solid stone, are all shells of extinct species, and
we can hardly see and handle them without some degree of awe
and reverence; when we reflect on the great and wonderful changes
that have passed over the earth since they were formed by a hand
divine, instinct with the breath of life, and then to be embedded in
the rock as everlasting characters by which the unborn generations
of men might read in history of those changes, and of the
providential dealings of God with his creatures. Of these Ammonites,
and other fossil shells, much more will have to be said in our
proposed geological volume; the poem which follows will very
appropriately conclude the above remarks, and our present little
work on shells—beautiful, wonderful shells! useful, ornamental,