IT took 1,000 beetles to make one of the most celebrated dresses of the 1880s. Audiences gasped when Ellen Terry made her entrance as Lady Macbeth, her costume shimmering with the sheeny wings of green jewel beetles. The showstopper caused Oscar Wilde to remark that Shakespeare’s villainess evidently ‘took care to do her shopping in Byzantium’. Society portraitist John Singer Sargent, who loved to paint lustrous fabrics, was also captivated and the actress posed for him, arms uplifted, crown held aloft, in what was to become one of his most arresting works.
‘W. B. Yeats was right to say “eternity is in the glitter on the beetle’s wing”’
The theatrical trick that dazzled them all was iridescence. One of Nature’s special effects, it occurs when a surface appears to change colour, depending on the angle from which it is viewed. Jewel beetles are some of its glossiest exponents, the many reflective layers of their wing casings producing metallic greens and blues. These have been used decoratively
